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Stanley would have never thought that saving the pale haired boy by the creek outside the village would mean that he would be strapped both metaphorically and physically to that said boy.
Stanley was about nine or ten, out on his first solo hunting trip, sent away by his mother to check the traps on the rabbit trails. His mother, fingers ever nimble and an eye sight like a hawk, had taught the young blonde boy from practically a baby how to set snares and foot traps. Given the harsh winters that hit during the rolling hills every year, the two trappers were vital to the small cluster of houses. The village sat on the main road to the capitol, the villagers making most of their living by selling and trading with the passing knights, nobles, magicians and non-descript countrymen. Stanley had been eager to prove to his mother that he could collect, reset and capture their harvest, setting out a little earlier than necessary into the dense woodland that loomed just outside of the mud shack they called home.
His mother had insisted he wear his dark wool cloak, shadowing the simplistic hunting outfit he wore, his handmade belt laden with thin trapping rope, a worn knife, and bait. His axe was strapped to his back, the leather holster too big on his small shoulders. He had already harvested a few small rabbits, strung by their hocks as he slung the animals over his shoulder, the light fur contrasting his dark cloak. After resetting the last trap in that area, he had stomped his way through the underbrush to the small creekbed, nearly dry now that winter had arrived. Stanley tapped his deerskin boot on the thin layer of ice on one of the swirling pools, amber eyes watching the small minnows swim sluggishly in the cold. Humming, he looked up the creek, disappearing behind a bend, a large bare birch tree leaning over the dry creekbed, roots open to the air. As he stepped away from the creekbed, a large crackle ran out in the quiet forest, making the young boy jump.
A tree? Stanley thought, climbing the rocky creekbed back in the shelter of the trees. He crouched down, crunching the frosty undergrowth. A large crack sounded in the forest again, this time closer, Stanley watching smoke rise from up the creekbed, colored a bright pink.
Definitely not a tree, Stanley huffed, scooting back further into the treeline. He knew that travelers and magi would walk these forests, though it was usually in the warmer seasons, when herbs and supplies were abundant. Not nearing the winter solstice. He sniffled as he watched a small figure land into the bare birch tree, high on the brittle branches. Stanley watched the small figure, surmising the person was around his age, jumping nimbly down branch to branch, dressed in a bright white outfit, dusted pink from what Stanley surmised was his failed spell or potion. The small figure jumped from a lower hanging branch back down into the creekbed, shiny white boots making a resounding unnatural clap as they hit the ice. The young boy, Stanley assumed, looked behind him, back the way he had come glancing around before briskly walking away. Directly in Stanley’s direction.
Shooting to his feet, Stanley glanced behind him into the trees, before shifting to leave.
“Can you help me?”
Stanley nearly jumped three feet in the air, whipping around to look at the young boy he just saw up the stream. Up close, the boy had silver hair, matching the white outfit he wore, complete with a mink neck wrapping.
“Help you with what?” Stanley asked, stepping back, hitting the tree behind him.
The young boy, black eyes matching the mink tail of his scarf, pointed back up the creekbed, small hands red from the cold air.
“I’m getting stalked,” the young boy offered up.
“By what?” Stanley asked after the boy didn’t explain any further. His mother had always told him to stay quiet when trapping. Not just to not scare prey, but to not be prey.
“A wolf,” the boy shrugged, crossing his arms.
“A wolf!?” Stanley exclaimed, fear dripping down his spine as he peered into the treeline, looking for the distinct movement of a predator. “You think I will be able to help with that?”
“You are a hunter, are you not?” the white haired boy replied, his heeled boots crunching at the frost as he shifted beside Stanley.
“Well yeah, but it's a wolf. It could easily eat both of us,” Stanley scoffed, leaving out the part of it being his first solo trip.
“I’m sure it won’t. It looked sick. I tried to kill it but it attacked me,” the stranger shrugged. “I just need you to kill it. I’m sure you have the tools for it.”
“Why can’t you do it? Are you not a magi apprentice?” Stanley shot back, adjusting the rabbits on his shoulder.
“I work with exploration magic, not offensive magic. I can’t do much,” the white boy said matter of factly, like Stanley should know that already. “I’ll let you keep the fur, if you want.”
Stanley stared at the boy, taking in the simplistic white robe trimmed with mink fur. There was a smattering of pink dust on the front of the robe, staining the glittering rope tying the clothing shut. If he brought back a wolf pelt on his first solo hunting trip…
“I’ll try, but no promises,” Stanley resigned, turning around to tie the rabbits up on a tree branch.
The boy gave a satisfied smile, turning to jump back into the creekbed, Stanley quickly following. The white haired boy said nothing as they trapsed up the creek, Stanley unhooking the axe off his back with a snap, gloved fingers gripping at the worn handle under his dark cloak.
“You seem pretty fast, why don’t you just flee?” Stanley asked after a while, ducking under the hanging roots of the birch tree.
“It’s been stalking me for a fortnight,” the boy sighed, jumping over a small frozen puddle. “It just won’t give up.”
“Go to a village then,” Stanley offered back, tugging his cloak free of a bramble.
“No need to. I have you to kill it,” was all the boy said, gesturing back into the treeline. “It’s up here. It's holing up in my house.”
Stanley didn’t bother asking why such a young boy was living by himself in the middle of the forest, resigning it to just be how magi trained their apprentices. Climbing back out of the creekbed, the white haired boy led Stanley down a narrow path, the blonde boy noting the braided ropes slung down the path, various dried fruits and herbs hanging from the intricately knotted ropes. Stanley glanced around the forest as they continued down the path, trying to identify where he was. They had not traveled that far away from the beaten path he and his mother had created, curious as to how the pair hadn’t spotted a house in the trees. He remembers jumping off the birch tree roots in the summer when the creekbed was full, practicing how to swim under the hot sun.
“This place is hidden, that is why you haven’t been able to see it,” the boy suddenly said, answering Stanley’s internal question. “But I’ve let you in, so now you can.”
The boy didn’t let Stanley say anything else, stopping as they reached a wooden gate. The top was wrapped with brambles, thorns long and curved. Stanley peered over the young boy's head, glancing into the small property encircled by the thorny fence. A small wooden hut sat in the middle, the front door ripped off its hinges, hanging haphazardly across the threshold. The herbal gardens were dug up, the wooden garden beds broken and upturned. The upper half of the hut was caved in, the threshed roof scorched and tinged pink.
“It is…really a wolf?” Stanley asked after a moment, taking in the scene.
“I think so,” the boy shrugged, pricking his finger on the thorny gate. Stanley watched bright red blood drip on the gate, it soaking in like wool in water. The gate swung open after a moment. “It looks like a wolf, at least.”
“Looking like a wolf and being a wolf are two different things,” Stanley snapped, stepping through the gate into the premises. He couldn’t help his hand from shaking, fingers trembling around the handle of the axe.
“It’ll still die if you cut its head off,” was all the boy replied, turning to stomp up the path leading to the hut.
“Shouldn’t we be a little more careful,” Stanley hissed, quietly padding behind the boy. “The element of surprise is usually the best.”
“I disagree. There are plenty of other elements that are better,” the white haired boy remarked, shaking his head. “Now get ready.”
Stanley slid the axe out from under his cloak, bracing it with both hands as they stopped at the threshold of the building. Before the magi apprentice could say anything further, a low growl reverberated from the dark hut. The young white haired boy snapped his head around, hands forming into fists as he stepped back. Stanley tried to quell the shaking of his hands, stepping in front of the smaller boy, steeling his expression.
“Do you think-” Stanley was cut off by the appearance of large, curved claws grabbing at the broken door, easily sinking into the worn wood.
This was definitely not a wolf.
Stanley swung a hand out, shielding the boy who had stepped behind him. Small hands gripped at his wool cloak, whether they were trembling from fear or the cold, Stanley didn’t know. The low growling had not ceased, making Stanley’s throat hurt from how deep it was. A large, broken figure crawled over the broken doorway, the remaining fur mangy and thin, revealing the blotchy skin beneath. Stanley couldn’t identify if it was a wolf that had tried to transfigure into a man or vice versa, but the thought didn’t really matter as he locked eyes with it. The elongated face was covered in blisters, long mangled teeth covered in thick frothy saliva. Its eyes were cloudy, weeping and ringed red.
Maybe it can’t see very well, Stanley thought, axe shaking in his hand.
“It killed my master,” the boy whispered under the deep growling, voice small. “It ate him.”
The smug persona was gone, Stanley noted, not daring to look behind him at the boy. He just nodded, moving back to grip at the axe with both hands.
“It looks weak,” Stanley breathed, forcing himself to step forward. The creature was at least three times as big as Stanley, looming over the small pair.
“Always be merciful, no matter how you feel,” Stanley’s mother’s words echoed in his head, desperately trying to assess the situation.
The long neck of the creature was extended, nose twitching as it sniffed the air. It was on all fours, elongated arms bracing on the ground as it drooled onto the path. Stanley forced himself to calm down, shifting his feet against the frozen ground.
“Mercy be damned,” Stanley whispered to himself, shooting forward, low to the ground.
The magi apprentice’s grip held fast on his cloak, pulling it off his shoulders as Stanley ducked forward. Biting his tongue, Stanley swung the axe up, using all his force to lodge it in the bony sternum of the animal, thick dark blood pouring over Stanley as it sliced, obscuring his vision.
Fingers slipping in the blood, Stanley yanked at the axe, pulling it out of the creature as it screamed, making his ear drums pop. He swung again, hacking at the animal’s chest, the screaming drowning out the sound of metal on flesh. A long clawed paw grabbed at Stanley, sinking deep into his shoulder, making him lose his grip on the axe, leaving it lodged in the bloody flesh.
He faintly heard the boy behind him yelling, cold hands gripping at him, pulling him out of the animal’s grasp. He felt hot, the blood of the creature and his own body mixing as the white haired boy dragged Stanley back, tripping on the icy path. Blinking the blood out of his eyes, he watched the creature stumble forward, its screaming reducing to gurgles as it hit the ground, blood pooling around it.
Thin arms had wrapped around him as the pair watched the creature drown on its own blood, twitching one last final time before laying still, axe still lodged in its deformed chest.
“Definitely not a wolf,” Stanley mumbled, feeling lightheaded.
He couldn’t hear what the other boy said, eyes sliding shut.
Stanley was brought out of the memory by his name being called, irritation apparent in the yell.
“Stanley, get over here!” a voice yelled, belonging to a white haired mage.
“I’m coming Xeno,” Stanley grumbled, pricking his finger on the gate. “If you aren’t dying I don’t want to hear it.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Xeno yelled from the hut, swinging the door open. “You’re late.”
“I got tied up in the village, you know how it is,” Stanley huffed, throwing the bundled herbs at the white haired man. “I had to pay that seedy merchant quite a few nice furs for that shit.”
Xeno ignored him, his long curved clawed gloves peeling the bundle open to inspect the dried product. Stanley plodded up the path, skirting around the thorny rose bush growing over the brick. With it being the height of summer the both of them were dressed lightly, Xeno donning a pale robe, laced up to the top with the cording Stanley had traded a fox fur for last winter. Stanley was in thin deerskin pants, his white cotton tunic an expensive winter solstice gift from his mother. Despite the setting sun, it was still warm, cicadas whirring loudly in the background of the summer evening.
“It look fine?” Stanley asked, resting a hand on his belt. Xeno hummed in response, delicately pulling a stem out, holding it to the evening sky.
“It’ll be fine,” Xeno remarked, turning back to enter the hut, Stanley following.
Stepping in, Stanley watched the white haired man lay the herbs on the large wooden table centered in the house, pushing aside various papers and pottery to make room. The large water basin bordering the close wall was empty, filled with intricate glass and knives, waiting to be soaked. Hanging flora smacked into Stanley’s head, the blonde grumbling as he pushed the crackly leaves out of his hair. The hearth on the far wall was unlit, the hanging pot set beside it, wooden lid covering the contents inside. The plush sheepskin that laid in front of the hearth was a bright, unnatural white, drawing the eye away from the otherwise dark interior of the hut. Xeno had rolled his bedding against the wall in favor of making room for a short shelf, covered in various bottles filled with different color liquids.
“You need to clean up in here,” Stanley remarked, walking over to watch Xeno separate the stalks of the herb. “It’s a mess.”
“After I finish this request,” Xeno waved a clawed hand in dismissal. “It was ordered by that pink haired heiress to the west.”
“What did they want?” Stanley asked, pulling down a familiar plant.
Xeno slid a glare as he snapped a few leaves off, placing them in his cheek.
“Some sort of desire elixir,” Xeno replied, delicately placing a stalk of the herb in his mortar and pestle. “She wasn’t very specific in her letter.”
“Desire elixir? Like a love potion?”
“Those don’t exist and you know it,” Xeno quipped back, the dull sound of the mortar grinding punctuating the statement. Stanley just shrugged. “The letter is over there if you would like to read it.”
Stanley followed the nod of his head to the stack of parchment haphazardly resting on a purple painted side table, complete with a half melted candle. The wooden chair next to it was half covered with a cowskin, the mottled pattern contrasting the dark wood grain. Sauntering over, Stanley quickly noticed the scrawling lettering of the timid heiress, complete with her looping signature. Picking it up, he noted the silver lettering at the bottom, the reward for completing the request written in a silver ink, clearly there to entice the mage to complete the order. He scanned the document before setting it back down.
“‘An elixir that makes the user unable to restrain themselves,’ huh,” Stanley mused, sucking on the tobacco leaves in his cheek.
“Like I said, not very specific,” Xeno sighed, pouring the ground up herb into a green pottery marked with an unfamiliar rune. “Can you run to the attic and grab me a dog baculum? I’ll need it for this.”
“Will do,” Stanley replied, ducking around a rope of garlic as he made his way over to the narrow, rickety stairs. Xeno must’ve dropped his candelabra, the steps marked with hardened wax.
The white haired mage didn’t reply as Stanley stomped his way up, pricking his finger on the thorny handrail and pressing the bloody pad against the attic door. Swinging open, Stanley stepped into the dark, warm attic, the only light filtering in from the wrought iron windows on the front of the hut. The hanging cages banged as Stanley bumped into them, too tall for the attic built for a short statured man. It was the hunter’s fault in the end, as he was the one who rebuilt the place for the mage back in their teenage years, Xeno scorching a hole through the thatched roof after failing to contain a spell. A scraggly hand reached through the bars, searching to latch onto his tunic in a feverish attempt to get out. Stanley smacked the arm, ignoring the resounding hiss that echoed in the attic. He quickly made his way to the far side of the dark room, searching the hanging baskets full of various bones sorted by species.
“How many do you want?” Stanley yelled, grabbing the requested bone out of a basket marked canid.
“Just one,” a voice replied.
Turning on his heel, Stanley weaved his way out of the attic, ignoring the hissing from the cages as he stepped through the threshold of the attic, the door swinging shut with a loud thud. He stumbled over Xeno’s bedroll shoved against the wall as he hit the landing.
“You definitely need to clean up in here,” Stanley huffed, throwing the baculum at the mage, who flicked his wrist, the bone clattering to the table with a sharp motion.
“Don’t throw stuff in here you’ll break something.”
“I’m gonna break something by tripping over it in the middle of the room,” Stanley snapped back, leaning to spit the tobacco out the open window at the foot of the stairs. Xeno ignored him, grabbing the bone and slowly lowering it into the green pottery.
The blonde hunter made his way over, boot kicking the mage’s bedroll for good measure, noting the man’s thick eyebrow twitching. The baculum, once white and pristine, was slowly turning black, the viscous liquid in the pottery climbing up the smooth surface like vines. The elixir itself was a cherry red, reacting with the baculum and leaving black etching behind in intricate swirls. There was a light steam coming off the liquid despite the lack of heat, Stanley whistling as he watched Xeno’s curved claws start to smoke where it held onto the bone. A crackle resounded in the small hut, Stanley leaning in to watch the baculum hiss and crack as it was fully covered with black trails.
“Stan back up or you are-” Xeno was cut off as the bone shattered, splattering into the potion, cherry red liquid splashing out of the delicate pottery. “Shit.”
Stanley jerked away as the elixir splattered across his chest and neck, searing through the expensive tunic and leaving red marks on his tan skin. It burned, less like hot water and more like spicy chili, not exactly painful but not pleasant either, the hunter swiping his neck to relieve some of the burn on the thin skin.
“What the hell,” Stanley huffed, looking at the red staining on his hands from the potion. “Was that supposed to happen?”
“No, you got too close to it,” Xeno huffed, somehow free of any backsplash. The white haired man skirted around the table to inspect the damage to Stanley’s clothing.
“What does me getting close to it have to do with anything? I’ve been close when you do other spells,” Stanley replied, unbuttoning the damaged tunic. Maybe Xeno knew a repair spell, otherwise he didn’t know what he was going to tell his mother.
“Desire elixirs are…fickle,” Xeno replied, black eyes skating over the red staining on his chest.
“Fickle?”
“Remember when I was practicing my location spell and I got too close to the garden?” Xeno asked, turning away from the hunter to walk to the hearth. His expression was hidden as he snapped his fingers against the charcoal, the fuel alighting a pale yellow.
“Yeah, you puked everywhere,” Stanley replied, eyeing the potion swirling in the green pottery. It was deepening in color, resembling blood as it shimmered. Despite his still burning skin, Stanley had the weird desire to taste it, idly bringing his stained hand up to his lips.
“When a recipient becomes too close to its targeted spell, it can basically go haywire,” Xeno said, tone clearly telling Stanley he should know something he doesn’t.
“But I’m not the recipient,” Stanley said, red stained fingers resting on his lips as he spoke.
“Like I said, desire elixirs are fickle,” Xeno still wasn’t facing him, messing with the black pot next to the hearth. “They typically are highly reactive, they will trigger when anyone other than the caster is nearby.”
“How inconvenient,” Stanley remarked, tongue jutting out to lick at his fingertips. It tasted like honey, coating his tongue and almost choking him with the sickly sweet taste. He couldn’t help but lap at them, reminding of the time that he harvested mulberries as a child, the sweet juice staining his skin irresistible.
“What are you doing?” Xeno suddenly said, hurriedly jumping over the mess on the hut floor to pull Stanley’s fingers out of his mouth. “How much did you consume?”
He hadn’t realized he had put his fingers into his mouth, licking at his lips. He looked down at his hands in Xeno’s thin grasp, saliva flickering in the hearth light. The sun had sunk below the horizon, the hut and garden cast in a deep shadow. He dragged his eyes across the stern look on Xeno’s face, lips pressed in a flat line, black eyes glinting in the yellow light.
“I was just curious,” Stanley finally said, licking his lips as he glanced at the elixir on the table. It almost glowed, enticing him as it swirled in its container.
“How much did you consume, Stan?” Xeno repeated, turning his palms up, looking at the skin. The hunter couldn’t pull his gaze away from the green pottery as Xeno examined his hands, then his chest, pushing the damaged tunic aside to gaze at the red skin. “Stanley!”
“Just a little bit,” Stanley idly replied, trying to pull his hand out of the mage’s grip. “Let go.”
“I still don’t even know the full effects of this elixir. I haven't run any tests,” Xeno huffed, ignoring his request. He tried twisting his hand out of the surprisingly strong grip, gritting his teeth. “Desire elixirs are hard to perfect, we don’t know what it will do.”
The blonde didn’t reply, free hand coming up to grip at Xeno’s wrist, digging into the bony joint. The mage let out a low noise, but held on, boot coming to stomp on Stanley’s foot. Grinding his teeth, Stanley yanked out of his grip, Xeno cursing as he lost his balance, stumbling into the short shelf full of various ingredients and bottles. Stanley felt like he was in a trance, making the short way over to the table and leaning over the blood red potion, sucking in a deep breath. Thin arms wrapped around his torso in an attempt to haul him backwards, the hunter not budging as he leaned down, taking in the enticing aroma.
It smelled familiar, like herbs, like the soaps that Xeno made, like the cherry wood that the mage burned during the summer solstice.
It smelled like Xeno.
Stanley felt like a dog, sticking his tongue out to lap at the liquid. It was addicting, the yelling from the white haired man fading into the background as drank it eagerly. It was splattering his face with each lap, stinging his skin. Thin arms retreated as the hunter continued to drink in the potion, dipping his face into the fluid like it was a bath. The hunter was finally knocked away from the addicting substance with a hard smack to his head, hanging onto the edge of the table as he stumbled off his feet, snapping back to his senses as pain bloomed across his temple.
“What the fuck,” Stanley groaned, fingers slipping on the smooth wood as he collapsed to the floor. The pack dirt flooring was unforgiving to his body.
“I should be asking you that,” Xeno huffed, setting the heavy iron candelabra on the table. That must’ve been what he hit him with. “What the hell was that?”
“I…I am not sure,” Stanley replied, resting on his hands. The floor was cool against his burning palms. “I think the elixir works though, I felt like I couldn’t help myself.”
“Good to know I guess,” Xeno sighed, shaking his head. He extended a hand out, claws glinting in the firelight. “It would probably be best that you flush your body with water.”
“Why?” Stanley asked, taking his hand as he rose to his feet.
“You consumed a lot more than the recommended dose,” Xeno replied, releasing his hand. “Which is zero, because I hadn’t tested it yet.”
“I feel okay now,” Stanley said, glancing at the now half empty pottery. He glanced down at his red splattered tunic before meeting Xeno’s gaze. He clearly didn’t believe the blonde.
“Let’s just go to the well out back and wash it off your person at least,” Xeno turned around, making his way around the table and pulling the front door open. Stanley followed behind, head still aching from where Xeno had hit him.
He shook the dizziness from his head, the warm night air prickling his bare chest as he followed Xeno around the back of the hut to the covered well. There was no moon out, the only light coming from the luminescent lilies that bordered the garden fence, a silvery green. He shrugged the tunic off as he approached, the mage cranking the bucket up, cool water splashing out as he swung it off the hook. He felt the man’s black eyes on him as he splashed his face, wiping the now sticky liquid off his skin. Xeno was close, flooding his senses as he smelled the nutty scent of the mage’s soap, Stanley’s eyes fluttering shut as he dipped his tunic in the bucket of water.
“Stan?” Xeno questioned, Stanley realizing he was standing there with his eyes closed, breathing heavily in the early night air. He swayed on his feet, curved claws preventing him from falling in the deep well. His wet hands grasped back at the mage’s arms, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to reel in his senses. Somehow he could feel the man’s body heat, the warmth bleeding through the layers of clothing and blooming across his calloused palms.
“I need to go sit down,” Stanley breathed, letting the man guide him blindly away from the well, tunic forgotten in the bucket.
He felt both hungry and nauseous at the same time as they reentered the hut, stumbling to lay face down on the sheepskin rug in front of the hearth. Xeno was moving around the hut, mumbling to himself as the hunter tried to regain his bearings, head swimming. A warm presence caught his attention as the mage kneeled beside him, claws gone as he patted Stanley’s head to catch his attention. The rug was soft against his bare chest, a hand fumbling to blindly grasp at the mage’s thin one, bringing it to his lips. Xeno smelled absolutely delectable.
“Stanley?” a voice asked, muffled like he was under water.
The hunter sucked in a deep breath as his lips parted, tongue pressing against the pads of Xeno’s fingers, ignoring the tensing of the man beside him. He expected his skin to taste like soap, or maybe herbs, but to Stanley it tasted salty-sweet, like honey coated acorns. He hummed, eyes still closed as lapped the taste off the mage’s fingers. His golden hair was pulled harshly as he pressed his teeth against the calloused skin, sighing.
“Stanley,” a familiar voice called, stern but questioning. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t reply, not bearing to part with the taste of his skin on his tongue, curling around the digits. His skin on his back was warm from the fire, making him sweat as he grazed his teeth against the groove of his fingerprints. Scalp stinging, his face was yanked away, neck craning as his head was held up off the floor. Groaning, he cracked his eyes open, watching the white haired man wipe his spit soaked fingers on his cloak, black eyes reflecting the yellow fire. He was kneeling beside Stanley, expression tight with concern as Stanley managed to gather his arms underneath him on the rug, fingers digging into the soft wool.
“What are you doing?” Xeno repeated, releasing his hair as Stanley rested on his hands, clasping his thin hands together on his lap. He licked the residual spit off his lips before replying.
“I am not sure,” Stanley answered honestly, eyeing the column of pale skin disappearing beneath the light, braided cloak. “I feel hungry.”
“Hungry?” the mage questioned, scanning his face. “And that translated to you licking my fingers?”
“You’re the one who made the elixir,” Stanley shot back, flushing hot with embarrassment.
Xeno just rolled his eyes, shifting on the worn floor next to him. A slender hand toyed with the braiding of his cloak, loosening. Bad idea, Stanley thought, pulling his legs under him to fully face the mage. Maybe the potion heightened his senses, Stanley sucking in the warm scent of Xeno as the cloak was pulled away, revealing the buttoned tunic and deerskin capris. His mouth flooded with saliva, leaning forward as the mage twisted to put the cloak on a nearby wooden chair. Xeno met nose to nose with him as he turned back around, surprise apparent on his face as Stanley bracketed him in, encroaching on his personal space. Thin hands gripped at his shoulders, subtly blocking his advance. There was an aching pain in Stanley’s gut, like he hadn’t eaten in days, or maybe vomited so much his abdominal muscles were sore from the strain.
“Stanley,” Xeno breathed, barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “You need to get a handle on yourself.”
“I’m trying,” Stanley whispered back, sucking the drool off his teeth.
There was a faint flicker of fear that crossed the mage’s face as Stanley easily pushed past his hold, Xeno clambering backwards, spine hitting the solid wooden chair. His senses were overwhelmed, the proximity making his head spin as a hand slid to grip at Xeno’s thin waist, fingers pressing against the taut muscle shrouded by the tunic. The mage seemed irresistible to him at the moment, his spell addled mind simply telling him to sink his teeth in - metaphorically or literally Stanley had no clue. Xeno’s face was drawn together in concern, apprehension trembling in his black eyes, pupils slits from fear. The blonde wasn’t sure what he looked like, surely absolutely mad, as he twisted the tunic in his fingers, face dipping to breathe in the mild scent emanating from pale skin.
Xeno tensed as Stanley pressed his nose against the side of his neck, fingers trembling as they gripped at his bare shoulders, trim nails scratching the tan skin.
“Stan,” Xeno gritted out as he lapped at the salty-sweet skin. “You need to control yourself.”
He didn’t reply, his gut growing hot as his jaw unhooked to press an open mouthed kiss to the skin, trying to swallow the taste. It was so close but so far, like the taste of fruit in badly made wine. An aftertaste. The hand that was balancing him dragged to grip at the mage’s hips, holding him in place. The blonde’s thumb grazed the hot fabric of the white haired man’s crotch, emboldened. The deerskin was tight, straining against the leather cord holding up Xeno’s pants as Stanley laved the expanse of his neck with a groan.
The angle was slowly irritating him, Xeno able to jerk away from him using the leverage of the wooden chair. Teething his pale skin, Stanley ignored the yelp as he swung the pair around, Xeno hitting the sheepskin rug with a groan as he kept his mouth latched to his neck. He clambered over the mage, knees squeezing in around his lithe frame as he turned Xeno’s head to the side. The white haired man was panting as Stanley dragged his teeth down his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders as Stanley met the edge of his clavicle, tunic pushed to the side.
The taste was so close, his head spinning as he felt the pulse of his blood against his tongue, his own hips jerking in tandem with Xeno’s rising heartbeat. He felt ravenous, sinking his teeth into the thin skin of the man’s clavicle, moaning loudly as blood bubbled into his mouth, not being able to help his eyes rolling back in his head at the taste on his tongue. Xeno screeched as he bit down, legs kicking as Stanley settled his weight onto his hips, trapping him in place. Despite the flailing, Xeno was hot against his ass, heat bleeding through his pants as the blonde rolled against him. He drank the hot fluid eagerly, the sweet taste coating his throat like syrup. Stanley couldn’t get enough, tongue lapping at the wound as if to draw more blood to the surface.
“Stan,” Xeno pleaded after a moment, tunic stained a deep red. “Please.”
He didn’t bear part with his skin, his muddled mind dancing with glee at the taste of Xeno on his tongue. Fingers left his shoulders to grip at his face, pushing into his mouth and forcibly pulling him off, skin lodging between his teeth as Stanley was yanked away. Xeno’s fingers pulled at his mouth, causing tears at the corners of his lips from the force. He pushed back against the offending hands, eyes locked on the bleeding bite mark. Pushing back against the resistance, Stanley dug his hands into the rug beneath them, trying to gain leverage. For a moment he thought he had won, one of the thin hands retreating. That moment didn’t last long when it struck him, bony fingers fisted, his nose cracking as it made contact with his face.
Blood poured from his nose as he stumbled back, collapsing back on Xeno’s trapped legs with a groan. He tasted his own blood on his tongue as he tried to breathe around the fluid in his sinuses, panting heavily as Xeno rose to his elbows. His eyes were wide as he tried not to drown on the blood in his throat, the firelight dancing on the herbs hung from the ceiling. Catching his breath, he snorted the blood into his throat as he caught the man’s black gaze, his usual neat white hair in disarray as he recovered from the encounter. His tunic was stained red with both his own and Stanley’s blood, rumpled and unorderly.
“What the fuck,” Xeno panted, wincing as he adjusted on his elbows.
“I’m hungry,” Stanley breathed, coughing around the blood in his mouth. It sprayed Xeno’s face, dramatically tinting the man’s pale complexion. The ache in his gut was growing, the blonde not able to ignore the pain ricocheting across his sternum.
“You’re under a very powerful elixir,” Xeno snapped back, trying to push Stanley off with a jerk of his legs beneath him. “Now control yourself.”
“I can’t,” Stanley said, ignoring Xeno’s pushing. He sat on his haunches, hands sliding to undo the bone buttons of Xeno’s tunic. The mage tried to stop him, a shaky hand reaching to try and yank his fingers away. It didn’t work.
“Control yourself,” Xeno repeated as Stanley exposed his chest to the warm air of the hut. The hearth cast a dramatic shadow on his pale skin, the blonde licking his lips like a dog as the tunic fell off thin shoulders.
The taste of Xeno was overshadowed by the taste of his own blood, Stanley’s mind miffed with the realization, hands pulling the tunic aside to grip at the mage’s lithe sides, nails digging in. His spine ached from the angle, ignoring Xeno’s pulling at his hair as his teeth met his chest. He rolled his hips as he skated his canines across the peaks of his pectoral, Xeno’s breath catching in his chest as Stanley’s warm tongue lapped at his nipple.
“Stop-” Xeno began, cut off with a groan as Stanley sucked at his chest, grinding against the bulge in the mage’s pants, not able to help himself.
The man collapsed against the sheepskin rug as Stanley moaned against his chest, sinking his teeth around his nipple as he grinding against the man pinned beneath him. The sweet taste flooded his mouth again, pushing the aching of his nose away with a wave of ecstasy. Xeno was trembling beneath as he released his chest, lapping wetly at the blood beading up from his teeth marks. He was embarrassingly hard, his pants uncomfortably tight as he humped against the man, a low whine reverberating in his chest as the layers of clothing barred the sensation. Fumbling, a hand dragged down to unbuckle his belt, clumsily throwing it to the side with a clatter. It yanked at Xeno’s leather cord next, not bothering to try and unknot it, simply snapping the braided leather and slinging it into the hearth. Xeno was panting heavily, fingers weaved into his golden hair, holding on. Shuffling back, Stanley let his legs do the work to awkwardly pull the man’s pants down, lips dragging down his sternum to leave a bloody treasure trail to his pubis.
The smell of arousal hit the blonde’s senses as he exposed the other man to the air of the room, jaw slack as he drank in the scent, lashes crowding his vision as Xeno’s length came into view.
He had seen the man nude before, many times actually, whether it be bathing or swimming or changing. When he had ‘started to become a man’ as his mother had said, he had fantasized multiple times about Xeno, his hunting trips lasting a little bit longer while he was an adolescent.
But now, with that god forsaken elixir making him positively ravenous, Stanley couldn’t help himself from dragging a hand down to wrap around the length, skin hot against his palm. Fingers tightened in his hair as he slid his hand up, precum pooling on his fingertips as he slid his thumb under the head, entranced.
He hadn’t been with a man before, but he had been with various women, when he would travel to the capitol to sell furs, or collect some ingredient the mage wanted. He had abruptly stopped darkening the doorways of capitol brothels when he had accidentally called out for Xeno when a young woman brought him to his climax, mind overwhelmed with fantasy. He paid the woman handsomely for her time and vowed to never return.
The mage’s whole body jerked underneath him as his hand sped up, a wet sound echoing over the blood rushing in Stanley’s ears, jaw slack as blood dribbled from his lips onto his hand, staining the man’s dick a pinkish hue. He couldn’t breathe out of his nose very well, the blood clotting and blocking his airway as he shuffled back, breathing through his mouth as he leaned to lap at the man’s pubic hair, groaning at the salty taste of his precum. His gaze flicked up, squinting through thick lashes to watch the expression on the man’s face as he extended his tongue obscenely, dragging it up the length of his dick.
It was almost a religious sight.
White hair was mussed and ratty, framing his dark features. Short black lashes were clumped together underneath thick eyebrows drawn together in pleasure. Blood had dried black on his skin, flaky and messy as Xeno’s panted hotly into the room, the hearth fire flickering across his face. The bite mark on his collarbone had reopened, fresh blood trailing down his marked chest. Black eyes were unfocused, fingers twisting in his sweaty hair as Stanley pressed his lips to the tip of his dick, moaning at the taste coating his tongue. His sinuses ached as he opened his mouth, enveloping the head of the man’s dick, eyes scrunching shut from the sharp pain striking his skull. Ignoring the ache, Stanley sunk down, lungs growing tight from lack of air. He was wholly inexperienced, but Xeno didn’t seem to care, hips jumping and hitting his soft palette. Stanley gagged, trying to pull back before thin hands stopped him, ripping out strands of golden hair. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, chest tight as he was held in place, fingers gripping at thin hips. The hunger in his stomach quelled as he swallowed around the man, his inebriated mind egging him on. Xeno’s hands pushed him down, trembling with surprising strength, or maybe Stanley was especially weak, grinding his hips as his head started to swim, drool escaping his lips as he was held down.
Like a too tight rope, the pressure on Stanley’s head snapped away, the blonde pulling off him to suck in a deep breath, coughing as he tried not to collapse to the floor. His forehead rested on Xeno’s jutting hipbone, a mix of precum, saliva and blood escaping his mouth as the black spots in his vision faded.
“Stanley,” a voice said, prompting Stanley to shakily raise his head, meeting the man’s hazy gaze. “Get off of me.”
He swallowed the clots from his sinuses before speaking.
“I’m still hungry,” he gurgled, his stomach growling almost on command. It had gotten a taste and wanted more. More of what, Stanley wasn’t sure.
Xeno was still hard, pressing against his cheek as he buried his face in the man’s dark pubic hair, ignoring the stinging pain in his nose as he took in a sharp breath. He was practically laying down against the man’s legs, the rumpled trousers obstructing the pale swath of his legs. Clumsily, Stanley pulled at the pants, yanking them down to his calves, shuffling to pull them completely off. They got caught on the boots the mage wore, the thick expensive leather catching on the deerskin capris. Twisting around from where he sat on the man’s legs, Stanley pulled at the lacing, easily unhooking the cord from its brass hooks and yanking the offending boots off. The metal clattered against the short shelf to the side, the blonde not caring if it knocked any of the fragile materials off. The soft skin of Xeno’s thighs was bliss against the callouses on his palms, adjusting to squeeze between the man’s legs. His sensitive abdomen jerked against the floor of the hut as he laid down, his pants restricting him from the unfettered friction. He could barely hear the crackle of the fire over his own heavy panting, not caring how he looked as he eyed the mage beneath him like a piece of meat.
In Stanley’s hungry brain, he was.
He slung a bare leg onto his shoulder before wrapping his mouth around the head of the man’s dick, blood leaking from his nose as he curled his tongue. His own hips were dragging against the floor, humping like an animal as he slowly sunk down, throat tight. Xeno was gripping at the sheepskin rug, socked heel digging in between Stanley’s shoulderblades as his lips met the hand wrapped around the base of his dick.
The salty taste of precum coated his throat, spurring him to bob his head, eliciting a moan from the man beneath him. He groaned in response, the blood pouring from his nose lubricating the slide even more as Xeno curled forward, hands finding purchase in his hair again. Stanley pulled his hand away, bracing on the man’s hip as his head was pushed down again, blood and snot bubbling in his nose as Xeno’s hips stuttered up, fucking into his throat. His bloody lips were numb with friction, a mixture of bodily fluids easing the slide of his mouth. A whine was reverberating in his chest, hips grinding hotly into the floor as Xeno held him down, hips jerking erratically. Hot, viscous fluid flooded his throat, his eyes rolling back at the taste, the man’s moans bringing Stanley to his own climax, warmth blooming across the front of his pants, soaking into the floor. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, his skin buzzing as he breathed around the man in his mouth, hips trembling as he tried to regain control of his runaway heartbeat.
“Stanley, Stan,” Xeno panted, pulling the man off his dick by his hair. He collapsed back against the rug, Stanley licking his lips as he trembled, arms weak as they braced against the floor.
Xeno’s legs were shaking, his hand coming to grip at the unmarked pale skin as they caught their breath. His hips were digging against the unforgiving floor as he sat on his elbow,leaning against Xeno’s cocked leg. Blood and cum streaked across the soft skin as Stanley pressed kisses to his thigh, black eyes watching him drag from his crotch to his inner thigh, thin hands pushing white hair away from his flushed face. The hunger pangs in Stanley’s stomach were ramping back up, the taste of Xeno’s cum fading as he swallowed the blood from his sinuses, the fluid slowly clotting in his nostrils.
“Xeno,” Stanley sighed against his skin, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. He caught the man’s gaze, canines scraping threateningly against the man’s leg.
“Stanley,” the mage replied, a thin hand skating to wrap around his length, black eyes shadowed as the blonde stretched his jaw, taking the meat of his thigh into his mouth, lips sealing around the area.
Stanley’s free hand dipped beneath his own pants, hips jumping as he palmed his still sensitive length. His arm hurt from being pinned, but he didn’t care, the bones of his wrist sparking with pain as the weight of his body rested against them. He loosely encircled his dick as he slowly sunk his canines into the soft meat of his thigh, watching Xeno’s expression scrunch together as hot blood dribbled down Stanley’s chin. His hand sped up as he watched Stanley sink his teeth in, teeth clacking as they met together. Stanley didn’t have enough wherewithal to move his own hand, his fingers just squeezing around the base of his dick as he pulled away from Xeno’s thigh.
The hunger finally, finally dissipated in his stomach as Stanley chewed at the flesh, warm and tender against his tongue. It was almost sweet, like rabbit meat, melting on his tongue like caramel. White fluid splattered Xeno’s trembling abdomen as Stanley swallowed, vision blurring as the meat settled in his stomach, contented. The white haired man had scrunched his eyes shut as Stanley licked the taste off his lips, dark features pulled together as the man came down from his climax. The grip on his dick loosened as he pulled his legs underneath him, hand sliding out from beneath his trousers, fingers coming up to drag any remnants of body fluid into his mouth, lapping at the residue. His knees slid on the sheepskin rug, a soft cushion compared to the packed dirt flooring. Lithe hands grappled at him, Stanley letting himself be pulled forward, wrapping the man’s bloody legs around his hips as he bracketed the man in.
Xeno’s hot breath was against his open lips, Stanley’s nose aching as it brushed against his. His lips were stinging, from the stretch, from the tears at the corner of his mouth from Xeno’s earlier pulling. His veins felt on fire as he pressed his mouth against Xeno’s, messy and uncoordinated. Blood eased the slide, fluttering his eyes shut as the man pressed his mouth hotly against his own, groaning as his hot tongue traced Stanley’s teeth. Turning his head, Stanley slid his tongue against Xeno’s, the man rolling up against Stanley as arms wrapped around his neck, trapping the blonde.
“Fuck,” Xeno breathed against his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to Stanley’s lips. “I’ve, waited,” Xeno said, Stanley not letting him get too many words in between kisses, hips grinding possessively against the man’s bare crotch.
Stanley adjusted the man beneath him, lifting his hips up so he could drag his clothed dick against the man’s ass, deerskin damp and hot. Xeno moaned into his mouth, arms tightening around his neck as he rolled against the blonde. Stanley couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him against his mouth, lips plush, mouth velvet against his tongue.
“Take off,” Xeno panted against his mouth, fingers yanking at his hair. “Take your pants off.”
Stanley panted into the air, neck craned back in the man’s hold as his hands fumbled, yanking the dirty deerskin pants to his knees, Xeno locking his ankles behind the small of his back before dragging him back down into a kiss. They slid against each other, precum and blood from the bite wound on Xeno’s leg easing the friction. Stanley’s hips stuttered at the contact, skin alight and buzzing as he dragged against the man, muscles aching from the repetitive movement. The mage was hot against him, the sensation of them rutting against each other making his skin buzz, the knot in his gut winding tight.
It was degenerate, how desperate he felt, the wet sound of their hips meeting making his mind spin. Xeno was moaning into his mouth, his own chest letting out high pitched ah-ah-ah’s as he grew closer to his climax, the flesh in his stomach warming his gut, the slide of Xeno’s mouth against his own making him lightheaded, the friction of their hips together making him rut against the man like an animal. Xeno held his face to his own as he climaxed, hot fluid splattered between them, hot and sticky. The man was swallowing every noise that bubbled from Stanley’s chest, tongue lapping it out of his throat.
His hips jerked erratically as he breathed heavily against the man’s mouth, eyes fluttering open as Xeno’s grip loosened, pushing the man’s face away. Twisting his fingers in the rug, Stanley shifted back, hissing as they slid against each other with the movement. The mage’s face was smudged with blood, staining his flushed skin as he held his mouth open, trying to catch his breath. Stanley took in the scene beneath him, blood staining pale skin, bite marks crusty as they dried, cum glinting in the firelight, chest heaving as the man tried to compose himself. His mind was still drunk with arousal as he leaned down, sticking his tongue out to lap at the drying fluid.
Thin hands pulled at the knots in Stanley’s hair as he methodically dragged his tongue across Xeno’s chest, humming as the salty taste coated his tongue. His heart was finally slowing down, warmth snaking through his veins as he licked pale skin clean.
“I’ve waited,” Xeno hummed, breath catching as Stanley lapped at his nipple before returning to clean the fluid from his skin. “Quite a long time for this.”
Stanley hummed, laving the final remnants of cums off his abdomen before retreating, crawling back up to place a kiss to the bite mark on his clavicle.
“For me to take a chunk out of your leg?” Stanley grinned, Xeno hissing as his tongue lapped the damaged skin.
“That would be a side effect of the elixir,” Xeno huffed, smacking Stanley’s shoulder as he licked at the bite, dipping his tongue into the bloody divots made by his teeth. “Apparently the only way to stop the effect is human flesh.”
“How unfortunate,” Stanley breathed, snapping the pink tinged saliva stringing between his lips and Xeno’s collarbone with a swipe of his tongue.
“Quite,” Xeno sighed, turning his head to let Stanley press open mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. “I won’t be able to send it out for payment any time soon.”
“Always thinking about business, huh?” Stanley grinned, teeth clacking as Xeno laughed into the kiss he pressed to his bruised lips.
They kiss lazily for a minute, the hearth fire beginning to die out as Stanley collapsed against the man, suddenly exhausted. Xeno rolled them to their sides, the blonde’s back hot from the residual heat of the fire. The rug was crunchy and sticky, most likely going to be burned when they finally parted from the floor.
“How long have you been waiting?” Stanley said as they broke apart, grunting as he kicked his boots off, easily sliding off his sweaty feet. His pants quickly followed, crumpling at the edge of the pair.
“When did we meet again?” Xeno asked, thumb stroking the long lashes of Stanley’s eyes. He just shook his head in exasperation.
“What, you were plotting ever since I killed that wolf for you?”
“We all know that wasn’t a wolf,” Xeno replied, white hair blending into the rug.
“I know very well it wasn’t,” Stanley sighed, hand coming up to fiddle with his ratty white locks. The rug was tickling his cheek as he carded his fingers through his hair.
“But it was a little after that,” Xeno said after a moment, scooting closer. “It was the summer you turned sixteen.”
“Sixteen?”
“Mmhmm,” Xeno hummed in agreement, rising on one elbow to kiss across his face, lips hot against the cartilage of his ear. “You were fixing the hole in the roof,” he breathed, goosebumps rising on Stanley’s skin despite the heat of the hearth.
“You took your tunic off, and I was in the garden,” Xeno whispered, despite no one there to eavesdrop. “I thought about that day for months, years even.”
Stanley shivered as Xeno brushed his blonde hair away from his face, finger trailing around the shell of his ear.
“I would sit in this hut, on that bedroll you kicked earlier,” Xeno smiled, tongue licking his lips. “And I would think about you.”
He let the mage roll him to his back, meeting with his chest to chest as the white haired man breathed hotly in his ear. He loosely grabbed at Xeno’s thin sides, grounding himself.
“I would call out for you,” Xeno breathed, pressing a kiss beneath his ear. “While I touched myself, wishing it was you.”
A thin hand traced down, fingers dancing across Stanley’s dick, making his hips jump. Xeno dragged his lips back to the blonde’s, pressing a messy kiss to his lips before breaking away to continue.
“I imagined quite a bit,” Xeno sighed against his mouth, hand dragging away from Stanley’s pubis, fingers walking up to trace his collarbone. “Quite shameful, in hindsight.”
The blonde couldn’t muster up anything in response, hands rubbing at Xeno’s sides, tracing his thin ribs. He let the man explore his mouth, jaw lolling open as Xeno licked the dried blood that had poured from his nose.
“But now,” Xeno said, satisfied with his work as he dug his elbow into Stanley’s sternum. “I don’t have to do that anymore.”
He hummed in response, Xeno’s long white hair framing his face and pulling Stanley’s eyes in. His skin was still flushed, a smile cracking his face as he watched the blonde try to respond.
“Next time,” Stanley croaked, hands digging into pale skin. “I am not going to take that elixir.”
“You’re telling me,” Xeno laughed, wincing as he clambered on top of him, lithe hands balancing on his chest. Xeno’s socked feet crackled against the rug, settling down on Stanley’s defined abdomen. “I was the one who got a chunk taken out of their leg.”
“Call it payback for making me kill that creature for you when we met,” Stanley rasped, licking at the tears at the corner of his lips.
Xeno smiled, white teeth glowing in the low light of the smoldering hearth. He leaned down, fingers gripping at his jaw to tilt Stanley’s head up, placing a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“I plan to make it up to you,” Xeno breathed against his lips, hot breath tickling his face.
Stanley’s fuzzy mind resigned to letting the mage do whatever he wanted to him, hands skating to ground themselves on Xeno’s bare hips.
=
“Are you sure you won’t be able to fulfill the request?” the timid voice said, eyeing the pair standing in the courtyard.
“I apologize Miss Luna,” Xeno bowed, white cloak fluttering in the wind. The manor always seemed windy, the swans flapping their wings from where they sat next to the bright blue pond. “But I am not able to produce the desired results.”
The sun was high in the sky, warm and bright as the young heiress sighed, shoulders slouching and rippling the striped dress she wore. Stanley couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the sudden lack of manners.
“What a pain,” Luna groaned, hands crumpling the ruffled skirt. “But if it can’t be done, it can’t be done.”
“Apologies once again,” Xeno said as he stood up straight, taking the reins of his horse from Stanley’s gloved hand. “But it is nearly autumn and it still has not proven possible.”
“I understand,” the heiress said, standing back straight and clapping her long white gloved hands together in tandem. Two servants appeared almost instantly, leather soles crunching the stone path as they stood in front of the pink haired girl. “Show them out of the manor, pay them for their time.”
“Thank you Miss,” Stanley said, his chestnut mare snuffling the collar of his wool cloak. He tried not to wince at the pressure, the wound from their last testing still healing. Xeno had refused to use a healing spell, much to Stanley's chagrin.
“Thank you for coming,” Luna called as the two mounted their horses, the servants guiding them down the path to exit the garden.
Xeno gave a nod of his head, the hunter waving over his shoulder as they plodded to the large wrought iron gates. A curly haired servant handed Stanley a small sack of coins, bowing before motioning them out. With a quiet thanks, the pair exited, the gate closing with a resounding clang.
They rode in silence for a while, the rhythmic clapping of their horse’s hooves a backdrop to the early autumn bird song. The journey back was not too far, maybe a day’s journey, so they were in no hurry to rush back.
“I would still like to perfect that elixir though,” Xeno suddenly said, pulling a persimmon off a branch hanging over the path.
“Let me recover first,” Stanley barked back, wrapping his reins around the horn of his saddle and leaning back against their bedrolls as he crossed his arms.
“It’ll be a minute before either of us will consume it again,” Xeno huffed, his long clawed gloves adeptly peeling the thin skin of the persimmon off. “Don’t be so sensitive.”
“Says the guy who only uses the healing spells on himself.”
“You’ll live,” Xeno said, persimmon juice dribbling on his chin as he took a bite.
Stanley just rolled his eyes, squeezing his heel to move the mare over, tack clanking against Xeno’s, grabbing the fruit from his clawed gloves. He took a bite before handing it back, gloves stained orange from the juice. Xeno said nothing, just elbowing the man away as they continued down the road, the cool autumn breeze making them shiver. Xeno’s hair was blowing in the wind, spitting the persimmon pits to the side as Stanley twisted his fingers in his mare’s mane, clumsily braiding the coarse hair as the mage scanned the golden countryside, searching for nothing in particular.
Stanley would definitely live, especially if he could live like this everyday. Bites and all.