Work Text:
Leona is very familiar with the heat of the Summer.
Whether it be within Sunset Savannah or the dorms of Savanaclaw, he’s well acquainted with the scorching tongue of the Sun, enveloping the world within an unbearable heat. The humidity, the stench, the warmth - he’s grown used to it over the years.
What he has not grown used to is the written letters penned skillfully and stamped in gold appearing within the post every week. This week, however, he had been anticipating the damned letter for quite a while. It didn’t stop the mild irritation boiling in his stomach as he tore the seal open with a delicate slice.
It wasn’t that he disliked returning home, especially for this festival - one of the few where he was rarely expected to make a public appearance- but something about being in such a close proximity to Farena set him on edge. A permanent bad mood sealed in the exhaustion the heat brought.
He read it over. Once, then twice, furrowing his brow.
Dearest Leona -
We wish you well as our annual celebrations arise. King Scar watches over the Savannah with pride in his eyes as you govern his dorm at NRC. We request your presence within our homeland for the weekend. The young prince looks forward to your arrival, as do myself and my wife. Things have already been arranged with Headmaster Crowley.
On an additional note, this year your participation in the festivities isn’t necessary. Recently, historians have located several texts in an ancient language Kifaji mentioned you being proficient within that we would like you to translate. From what they’ve gathered, they mentioned it being related to Scar and the hyenas, which the queen suggested you may find interesting. Your friends and companions are quite welcome to join the festivities.
See you soon! Cheka is pestering us all quite deeply about your arrival, so do make haste.
Wishing you well, Farena.
Ancient texts, huh? Leona shifted to a far more comfortable position on his bed, contemplatively staring at the ceiling. If anything, it was more surprising than anything else that Farena and his wife had remembered he even had an interest in ancient languages. Though, he supposed with the way his room held more shelves than a small library with nothing but historical texts upon historical texts, it was no impossible feat to figure out what he liked.
The obvious choices to bring would be Jack and Ruggie. On one hand, Ruggie would certainly go to town and enjoy the free food at the festivities, and Jack would be occupied by all the games. On the other hand, both were massive pains, especially if he needed to translate texts and watch over a freshman and sophomore who got up to more trouble than they were worth.
He huffed, shutting the curtains with a flick of his wrist. The sun was not a welcome guest when it brought only more stifling heat and a glaring light in the corner of his eyes.
The thought came to him quickly and irritatingly in a flash of obsidian and chartreuse.
Malleus would easily assist him in any translations he needed - if anything, they’d be able to work twice as fast, depending on whatever language the texts were in. The lizard, unfortunately, was as well read as Leona, despite his smugness and sharp manner in which he often carried their interactions with.
How would that go down with Farena? He pondered the thought as he rolled over in bed, eyes half shut.
Malleus, black hair tied away from his face, leaning over Leona’s shoulder as they read, pointing things out here and there, his eyes keen and the persisting frost of his body chilling Leona’s breath. The sharp curves of his sleek horns catching the light as it faded, his features being painted starkly on a dark canvas.
How they would sit alongside each other, musing over ancient words neither of them could quite grasp. Perhaps he would lean close to Malleus. Perhaps Malleus would close the distance in response, leaving nothing but them, stretched painfully thin in the sun’s light and yearning for something so much more.
Or, indeed, Malleus would be enthralled by the world beyond Leona’s palace, his childhood home, and they would peruse the streets as if ordinary civilians. The people of Leona’s home would pay Malleus no mind - another horned man in a crowd would not phase them.
How they would laugh and eat the food of his people, hiding away beneath trees in avoidance of the sun’s wrath. Maybe neither would care, and they’d lay in fields of grass, staring into the cloudless sky. Maybe they would celebrate nothing, and simply weave tales of victories and losses until the world became nothing but a blur of sunset and monstrosity.
Leona didn’t care to pursue that train of thought. He wasn’t one to sing praises for anyone, much less Malleus Draconia.
Unfortunately, he would make translating the texts go by significantly faster. This work could take weeks, and Leona had neither the time nor energy for such a task. He’d seen Malleus talk in that most irritating manner of his before about the propriety of invitations and so on. Leona had also noticed his lack thereof of said invitations.
It wouldn’t be a problem to get Malleus to accept. It would just be a problem to deal with Malleus for any length of time without driving himself insane.
(If only it was that simple)
The sun is still in the sky, the glowing heat pressing against his back, as he yawns and shuts his eyes. He has a plan.
But first, it’s much easier to lay himself to rest.
He wakes up to the curtains rudely opened, the moon conveniently vacant in the sky and nothing but the stars (which is to say, nothing) lighting the room. Ordinarily he would have grumbled and simply gone back to sleep, but…
Something nags at him beneath the skin. A lingering restlessness that keeps him just barely from falling back into that blissful slumber, where he may relax away until whatever troubles he has may disappear. Leona doesn’t dream, but rest is rest.
With a growl, he hops out of bed, and leaves the dorm with silence befitting only a lion.
Though it is most certainly past midnight, there’s little cold. The heat has dimmed into something pleasant, a slight warmth meddling with the breeze gently falling across the lands as he exits the mirror. Each step he takes in this room echoes, one stride after the other.
Grass curls around his feet as he walks further and further, dim green lights from the hallway torches illuminating his back in shades of lime. As he inhales the scent of the forest just outside the school, his mind drifts back to the same man who’s been haunting it for weeks.
The sky’s warmth envelops him in something comfortable as he continues forwards, veering sideways towards Ramshackle. It’s rare that he leaves the dorm after sunset. It’s rare, even, that he wakes up at night in the first place. He values his rest, and he gets it easily.
If it weren’t for that damned letter, Leona suspected he would be quite peacefully asleep by now.
The stars seem to line up near perfectly, if he tilts his head at the right angle. Slightly askew, they stand, a glowing line hanging directly over a moonless and cloudless sky. They hang, attached on makeshift strings. Leona briefly thinks of Cheka’s room, of the spinning lions and hyenas glued haphazardly on string.
He remembered watching as Cheka showed him each and every one of them, giving them names as Leona watched from his comfortable vantage point on the floor. One was named after Leona. Another after Farena, and another after his mother. Leona smiled, just the smallest curl of his lips over his fangs.
In the corner of his eye, a brief glimpse of fireflies caught his eye. Small, flashing, as if imitating the stars held above them. Fallen creatures, left to bask in the might of what lay above.
Fireflies?
“Kingscholar?”
Had Leona been anyone else, he likely would have jumped at least a foot in the air. At minimum. However, Leona was Leona Kingscholar, and when he faced the origin of that voice - low and dark and quiet - he did it with a gently lashing tail and rejuvenated scowl. He hoped Malleus would take the hint and leave. He doubted he would.
“Draconia.” Leona crossed his arms. Malleus surveyed him briefly. He stood far enough away to be considered at a distance, though, really, it could easily be closed with a single stride from either of them.
Malleus tilted his head to the side. “I wasn’t aware you frequented this area. I haven’t seen you on any of my nightly walks.”
Leona responds. “Because I don’t go on walks.” He’s the first to close the distance, sending the fireflies scattering to the winds. This close to Malleus, a chilling frost has seeped into the air, a sharp bite against the warm cradle of Summer.
Shrouded by darkness, Malleus looks surprisingly unintimidating. His eyes glow, bolts of lightning against a stark sky, but the rest of himself fades into the night with a quiet ease. His edges bleed into softness, into the very maw of darkness itself. He is the darkness and the darkness is he, but it does not scare Leona.
“Then why start now?” Now Malleus steps forward. Only the tiniest bit, enough to allow any distance between them to be fully closed. They stand at near standstill, circling each other as if in a grand fight. It is nothing close to one, while they stand with teeth hidden in sharp mouths and words oddly soft for an exchange between the two.
It occurs to Leona that now may be a very good time to both escape this situation and set up a very promising one only a few days into the future.
(Malleus’s gaze sending a shiver down Leona’s spine - curious and not quite borne of fear - certainly isn’t helping)
“I had something to attend to.” The words fall slowly. He’s relaxed. Of course he’s relaxed. He’s Leona.
Regarding him with slight amusement, Malleus’s tail curiously flicks back and forth, not so different from Leona’s own. “At this hour? What kind of fool would do that?”
“Would that make you a fool?” Leona says dryly.
Malleus smiles, fangs poking out from the corners of his dark lips. They’re starkly dark, near pitch black, against his brown skin. “Perhaps.”
Though there is no more distance left to close, Leona finds a way to push them even closer, stealing the breath from Malleus’s mouth as he exhales. They’re close enough to simply lean in and meet face to face. From here, he realizes how plainly tall Malleus is, the bastard. He stands at least a head taller than Leona, leaving him to glare upwards to stare directly into the eyes of the other.
He’s got sharp eyes, Leona thinks, in some dull recess of his mind.
“Sunset Savannah’s got a festival next week.” Malleus’s eyes flash with mild curiosity, but he says nothing as Leona continues. “I’ve got some texts in one of those languages you speak that Farena wants translated.” He doesn’t add in what he’s desperately trying to imply.
Malleus, just to be irritating, does not pick it up, and hums beneath his breath. “And how does this constitute a midnight walk?”
Making a noise somewhere between a huff and a laugh, Leona shakes his head. “You know the ancient language I need to use.”
“That is correct.”
“So, you should come and translate those texts with me.” Before he gets a word in, Leona continues. “Makes less work for me, after all.” Wouldn’t want Malleus to think Leona had any ulterior reason for inviting him. Most definitely not.
It’s almost hilarious how Leona can see the gears in Malleus’s mind turn. He’s not slow, by any means, but the mile-long stare he receives from those luminescent eyes is almost enough to make him break out into raucous laughter right then and there. He invites Malleus to his homeland, and Malleus has the audacity to stare as if Leona started to speak fae? Ridiculous.
He can’t help but feel endeared somehow.
“Of course. I’d be honoured to accept your invitation, Kingscholar. I will inform Lilia immediately.” As he speaks, Leona can just barely catch Malleus’s tail moving side to side, if only slightly. He smiles wryly. Perhaps he should have taken to calling Malleus a dog rather than a lizard. “Farewell, then, Kingscholar.”
Leona takes a step backwards, out of the radiating frost Malleus carries, but just as he’s about to turn on his heel and not look back, Malleus takes his hand. “What, Draconia?”
Without speaking, Malleus grins, a full grin, teeth showing, and gently presses a kiss to Leona’s hand. Before he even rises, he’s already disintegrated into another lightshow of fallen stars.
There’s not much more Leona can do other than gaze at his hand, roll his eyes, and fall asleep with significant ease the second he hits his bed.
In the end, Leona organizes quite the perfect scheme.
Ruggie, as assumed, was happy enough to come, cheerfully catching the card Leona threw at him with ease. Easy enough to pay off, and Ruggie would do it all with a smile. If anything, he was reliable, Leona would give him that.
Jack, though pensive at first, jumped on the opportunity quickly. Him and Epel made quite the duo together, shepherded by Ruggie as they traversed through the mirror chamber, excitedly conversing within their little trio. Leona regarded them with an odd fondness, one that struck him deep within his chest.
Finally, Malleus. He’d stood near Leona the whole time, greeting the freshman and Ruggie with pleasantries the moment they’d arrived.
“Good morning, Kingscholar, Bucci, Howl, Felmier.” He’d said with a slight dip of his head. “I trust you are all in high spirits?”
They’d responded in kind, a simple conversation where only Malleus’s words had particularly stuck out to Leona. Really, it should have irritated him how much the lizard seemed to linger on Leona’s mind (ordinarily, Leona would have suspected a curse without second thought) but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to particularly mind.
The moment they step through the mirror, Leona is greeted by the scalding heat he calls home.
The cold climates Epel, Jack and Malleus call their homelands are a violent contrast to the warmth Sunset Savannah brings. It is not hot. It is the sun itself, brought down from its pedestal high in the sky, brought closer to their world, enough to cast a burning glow over it in warmth and flame.
It smells like home, from the moment he steps through the mirror.
“Alright, go and enjoy the festivities. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t embarrass me, or yourselves. Whatever you chose to do isn’t my problem, and-” Leona begins, sharply turning to Ruggie. “Behave yourself. If you get too hot, Ruggie should know what to do.”
Ruggie nods cheekily. “Yes, sir! I’ll be sure to show these freshies a good time!”
From the looks of it, Epel and Jack are taking the weather with mild surprise already, but Ruggie, true to Leona’s word, would handle it whenever it became an issue. He suspected that to those unused to the heat, it would never really be something one could ever truly adapt to.
Right. That left only Malleus.
He’d remained silent as the trio left, observing the landscape. From the mirror, they’d arrived just within the main city, a grand affair. Rolling hills populated with green grass and houses upon houses decorated the lands, the trees scattered across the savannah blooming beneath the cherished sun.
The sky itself seemed to glow from within, on days like this, where the clouds parted for the blue to shine in colours bright and without care. Where the shade left shadows light and airy and the sun burnt light into the ground as if it were a painting.
The pale arches of the building tower high, birds chirping from outside. “The architecture is quite beautiful.”
Leona flicks an ear, beginning to walk, Malleus’s near-silent footsteps the only confirmation that the other man was following him.
City bustle never got any less wild, but from this building, the uphill climb to the palace had no interference - not when two princes walked unhindered into royal domains, home to the very king.
Leona wrinkled his nose. Farena would likely be prepared to greet them before he disappeared into the crowds to begin the chaos of the festivities.
Farena would likely meet Malleus.
The thought struck an interesting chord of emotions within Leona. Fear, perhaps? No, not that. Something else, closer to a delicate mix of anxieties and loosely concealed frustration and longing, yearning, the arch of his horns rather than that of buildings and
the curve between his shoulder and neck-
Enough.
Birds chirp, servants bow, and the word is truly and wholly alive as they climb upwards, small creatures skittering across the stairs as they do. The savannah is, and always has been a home to worlds of life, bursting with it from the seams.
“Leona!”
Farena.
Unfortunately, he still isn’t able to escape the bone-crushing embrace Farena pulls him into, pushing Farena away the moment he gets his hands free. He may be older by quite a few years, but Farena’s strength (very tragically for Leona) is easily unmatched.
Malleus bows politely, neither smiling or frowning. Perhaps it is from the cold diplomacy briar valley always extends that leaves them at such a large distance from the humans. “Thank you for having me, King Farena.”
The Draconias have never been anything other than polite and cordial towards the Savannah, from what Leona’s gathered, but they have never been quite as friendly or hostile as any other kingdom. They distance themselves from the outer world past their towering mountains, and wherever they go, they track frost with them. The fae colonies in Sunset Savannah have long since immigrated to Briar Valley, too, Leona remembers, and the remaining few live on the outskirts of the territory. The reason why, he suspects, will not be one that pleases Malleus, nor his kingdom.
Baul, one of the head guards of Briar Valley, he recalls, is from the Savannah. That would make Sebek descended from them too. Leona can only imagine Sebek living in his homeland. Sounds like a headache and then some.
Farena smiles widely, shaking his head with cheer. “Please, the pleasure is all mine! I take it you’re here to assist in translating the texts? Are you and Leona friends? How are things in Briar Valley?”
Leona almost groaned. There Farena was, asking questions as if he was performing an interrogation and delivering it all with the over-enthusiastic cheer only he and his son could muster.
“Yes, Leona invited me. All is well in Briar Valley. My grandmother sends her regards,” Malleus says diplomatically. His hair hasn’t strayed from its normal appearance, but he lacks the usual jacket he wears. The only real differences in uniform between Leona and Malleus now are just the colour of their vests.
Pleased with the answers, Farena bows his head as well. “Good to hear! You must visit more often, we hear such little news from your nation. I hope you all enjoy the festivities!” With that, Farena disappears almost instantly, back into the towering palace. He leaves no room for further conversation.
Malleus looks mildly amused at Farena’s thinly veiled probing, at the very least. “Your brother is very energetic.”
Leona breathes out, heavily, bringing a hand to his temple. “Tell me about it.”
The laugh that earns from Malleus brings a blooming warmth deep within Leona’s chest, as if the sun itself has turned its attention from the sky above to the center of Leona’s beating heart. It does not dissipate, not for a single second, even as they continue through the palace, into rooms lit by flickering candles, smelling deeply of old paper.
The historian who greets them must be well into her 50s, short, curly hair beginning to gray. A fellow beastman, and a horned one at that. She has a cheerful way about her as she begins describing the papers before them, gesturing within the confined space they have. With all the energy of a young child and the wisdom of a woman well above her age, she speaks.
“Thank you for your assistance, majesties. It’s not often that we have others engage with our works, much less those of your standing.” She punctuates the sentence with a light laugh. “Forgive me for presuming, but are either of you fluent in the language?”
Malleus glances over her shoulder, peering over the texts briefly, before giving a brief nod of confirmation. “Yes. It was one of the more common dialects spoken before Sunset Savannah even existed. Majority of old languages are descended from this root, if I’m not mistaken.”
The historian nods. “Great, so you’re already acquainted with the language. Your Majesty, you’re well versed in this as well, correct?”
Now, the question is directed at Leona. He responds, nodding, “I’ll be fine. Just leave us to it and we’ll get whatever you need done.”
It’s good as a dismissal, so, with mirth in her eyes, she bows and exits the room with little more conversation, the old door softly clicking shut behind her. The windows in the room pour in more than enough light, but the candles have already been lit, wax dripping down the sides next to the pages.
Without much decorum, they begin to work in near silence. They turn the pages with great caution, hands barely glancing over the rough sheets. Magic is far too risky here, and for once, Leona hears Malleus without the constant hum of primal power surrounding him like a veil. He’s quiet. Far more than Leona noticed before.
The words in this language are written in symbols, not like the common language they speak at Sage Island. The language itself is not a young one, but this text certainly is. Told in a time well after Sunset Savannah and the tales of the beasts, it’s another simple retelling of their great seven story, but-
“Are you fluent in the language, or still learning?”
Leona looks up with a frown, briefly interrupted from the story the passages are tying together before him. He has the first half of the story, and Malleus the second, a mismatched tale they will convene together with and meld together words upon paragraphs, into a tale of myth or history or legend.
Malleus looks at him almost expectantly, hands neatly folded on his lap. “Started learning in my freshman year. Why do you care?”
“Certain words in this text, at least, reference fae terminology quite heavily. I was wondering if you would know these words, or what they meant,” Malleus said, eyes curiously following Leona’s expression. His hair had since been tied up when Leona was not looking, silky strands falling from a low ponytail.
Exhaling heavily, Leona stands, walking to lean over Malleus’s shoulder. Though they’re touching, body against body, he can’t find it within himself to care. The heat is tiring, and formalities have slowly begun to die as they sat nearer and nearer.
The words on Malleus’s page match Leona’s quite neatly, though he knew every word, Malleus would be correct in assuming Leona hadn’t guessed they were referencing fae. He supposed it would go the same way with Malleus - he wouldn’t have the knowledge of the beastmen being referenced.
“This area is referencing beastmen.” Leona says, gesturing towards a corner of the page. He finds himself watching as Malleus’s eyes scan over the text, the hum leaving his lips as he nods in agreement. “If you’re saying the other symbols reference fae, then that’s the other half of the story.”
“I wouldn’t have noticed that had you not pointed it out. So, it appears to be a tale of the beastmen and fae settlements of old, correct?”
Leona pulled his chair and notes towards himself, sitting next to Malleus. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they began to unravel the tale with surprising ease, considering who they are.
It’s easy to get along with Malleus once he puts aside the rest of the world.
He’s charming, in a way that he simply….isn’t. He’s too blunt to be smooth, but he has a delicate way around words when he’s not barbing them with the usual jabs of their banter.
In Briar Valley, sewing and spinning wheels were a large part of their culture. To weave creations in magic, and outside of it. In the same manner, Malleus and Leona had taken threads of a fragmented story and made it whole once again, spinning threads across and over and under until they created, finally, not a tale, nor a myth or legend, but a story of times long forgotten.
“Shall we summarize? It appears that before beastmen were the main inhabitants of Sunset Savannah, they shared the land equally with fae and humans.”
“Then,” Leona continued, picking up where Malleus ended, “the humans had issues with that. Of course they did.” He added it almost as an afterthought, muttered under his breath, but Malleus still laughed.
It sends butterflies spiraling from his chest. He should have a problem with this. He doesn’t, and that bothers him even more.
“Thus, the humans drove our both groups, until they were forced to fight back, and the humans then painted them as barbaric forces.” Malleus sighs, crossing his arms. “Quite the familiar tale, wouldn’t you agree?”
Leona nodded in agreement, tail swishing from left to right. Now, he reads directly from the text. “Eventually, the humans subsided, and left the groups to live in peace, but it did not change the fear they planted within themselves of how the fae and beastmen alike were monsters.”
“Though not so different from humans themselves, beastmen and fae were shunned and treated like monsters. The humans did not care to look past their appearances: all that mattered to them was the superior strength and power they held, and forever, would beastmen and fae be known as nothing more than monsters.” When Malleus speaks, it’s with a certain quiet bitterness Leona can pick out well. He knows it, because it’s the kind his life has been imbued in from the beginning.
Is that what they are, then? Monsters? Left to be condemned by humans? Would that be such a bad thing?
Leona and Malleus share one thing in common. They have too much power, and yet none at all. They are the cursed sons of forgotten lands and dying kingdoms. They are monsters, and it is not a secret.
People fear them. In the same vein that no one dares approach Malleus, other students tuck their tails in and run from Leona when he glances over them. When either of them displays their magic, they are received not with wonder or awe but with fear.
“Sentiments haven’t changed at all since then. Ridiculous.” Leona scoffs, breaking the mildly tense silence between them. Malleus looks over curiously.
“Do humans and beastmen not live in relative alliance with each other? Sunset Savanna is quite united between the two, is it not?”
Leona pushes the papers out of the way, leaning against the desk. “Yeah, sure, but the real issue is that humans still think beastmen are violent and about to attack at any moment. There’s no real equality going on.”
Malleus hums in acknowledgement. The sun hasn’t begun to set, not yet, but still, the room is incredibly dark, the candles slowly reaching their end, fizzling into smoke and nothing. The wax drips in rivulets, smooth and pale.
“At home, it seemed the humans and creatures outside Briar Valley seemed to live in relative peace alongside one another.” Malleus sighed, if only slightly, leaning backwards in his chair. “How disappointing to find out it’s really not that different.”
Now that piqued Leona’s interest. Such little was known about Briar Valley, even within the valley itself. Farena’s probing proved as much - the vast history of the valley barely had a candle held towards it in terms of the history known to those both in and out of it.
Several wars had taken place - quite recently, actually. He recalled a complete peace treaty only being formally declared 17 years prior, when tensions between fae and humans had slowly begun to calm.
“Something similar happened in Briar Valley a while back, didn’t it?”
Pursing his lips, Malleus gazed conspicuously off to the side, staring into space for a moment. Something the valley wanted to keep hidden, or simply something Malleus hadn’t the words to convey?
Staring not at Leona, but at a flickering candle, he nodded. “Yes, very recently the last human-fae war ended. Briar Valley, until then, had been dealing with serious issues of human settlements who sook to harm fae. Naturally, this leads to fae retaliating, and it’s not hard to see where this all leads to.”
He turned to face Leona. “When you analyze these texts, and then look at what has only ended very recently, it can only make one wonder whether or not humans can come about change easily.”
Leona tilts his head. “Go on.”
Malleus makes no large hand gestures, but they still move, confined in the limited space they have. “In a single fae lifetime, we will live to see several generations of humans. Our views change, slowly, yes, but humans will change at the same rate, only spread over several lives. The views of humans today and humans of generations long past may be different, but in the end, it is the same, continued story that even we, as fae, are going through. What a human experiences in multiple lifetimes, we find in a single one.”
“Ah.” Now Leona knows exactly what Malleus is getting at. “What about your little guards? Aren’t they human?”
The immediate softening of Malleus’s expression is all Leona really needs to know, but it still strikes him as cute all the same. He holds a deep fondness for his people, and Leona holds one of equal ferocity for his. It is the job of a ruler to care for and to protect their people at all costs.
These are their people. From past to future, they are all the stories they weave in the infinite timeline they tell. Whether they paint Leona and Malleus as villains or heroes, as monsters or men, it will not matter. They exist to love, to guide, to watch with pride and hope and fear.
Monsters do not exist in one form. They are millions of things, and if they truly are the beasts humanity claims them to be, then it surely must not be such a bad thing.
“Silver was raised by fae, alongside us.” He says, softly, smiling gently. “Though he may be human, he is one of our own.”
“Human and fae living in peace, hmm?” Leona responds, smirking back equally. The heat isn’t quite as unbearable, but a delicate warmth has begun to fuel him, nostalgic and familiar.
“You, too, have human companions, if I recall correctly.” Malleus teases, standing from his chair. “Felmier and quite a few others take kindly to you.”
He waves a hand in Malleus’s general direction as a response, chuckling. Following suit, he stands, glancing across the texts. They stand in order, neat and clean. Leona smiles. Good. Now, the real fun begins.
Each candle has reached it’s end point, leaving only them in incredibly dim lighting. It’s not a bother for either; they are children of the night and day equally. Their eyes glow in the dark, and here, they thrive.
But the sun must be falling in the sky outside, and it must be a sight to see, as always, a blaze of colours before the night comes with teeth and silent cold, stars glimmering in a perfectly clear sky.
He clears the distance of the room, walking towards the door. Extending a hand towards Malleus, Leona smiles, all teeth. “Let me show you a real city.”
What he says is, let me show you the beating heart of my people. Let me show you our pride, our sun, our moon. Let me show you how this city kills and brings to life. Let me show you how we are painted as monsters and saints and gods and mortals, how we have been portrayed on these walls, how we exist beyond time and behind space.
How I have died and been reborn within these walls, given shape to something new, something flaming and hungry and monstrous.
How he wishes he could see what made Malleus this kind of monster too.
Malleus’s fingers are ice-cold when he takes Leona’s hand in kind, and the city awaits them with an open mouth as they leave.<
Within this sea of bright lights and crowds and the cheerful joy of celebration, they are nothing but people, left to weave through the fray. They are nothing but simple and ordinary, living beneath a mother of a sun.
The heat is dying down now, but for Leona, it has turned into a blazing depth of warmth, the candles now gone reigniting in the back of his mind. Malleus stares off into the setting sun, each colour decorating him like a painting.
Leona doesn’t think. He kisses Malleus.
Malleus doesn’t think either. He kisses Leona.
They burn, just like that, with no explanation, with no meaning, with no thought. This is a language that needs no translation.
When they pull apart, no heat has escaped the distance between them. They are left within the sphere of their own fire, their own sun, their own world. This is not heat. This is warmth.
Leona isn’t quite as familiar with the warmth of companionship as he is with the heat of the Savannah, nor is Malleus as familiar with the shock of contact as he is with the blistering cold of the Valley.
Leona doesn’t mind making it familiar, and he’s sure, from the way Malleus is looking at him, that it’s a mutual agreement.