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The room of the Lord of Ash was as dull and dark as he was. Perhaps if he still resembled a candle it wouldn't be so comparable to a chilly cave, but in his current state, he had no energy to spare to heat even the small room - any energy that his draconic staff happened to generate was to be saved for later use in rituals, after all. The fuzzy carpet and heavy curtains did little to settle the ghostly aura of the room, harboring forbidden memories and unspoken regrets that seemed to follow the Lord wherever he went. The dark, wooden sections of the walls soaked in what little light scraped its way into the forlorn chamber, allowing for a lonely, restful slumber.
The Lord of Ash wearily opened his eyes, long lashes fluttering in subdued light. He swept his ashy hair out of his face, glancing to his bedroom door. The hall light wasn't on, but he heard footsteps. He thought about it; they were soft, careful, near weightless. There was only one of the Corrupted with such airy steps; he doubted the others could hear with their small, insensitive ears.
Ash slipped his legs beneath the covers and onto the floor, gritting his teeth as he braced himself against the nightstand. His fingers fumbled in the dark to unlatch his staff from its place hanging on the wall and yelped when it fell onto his head, then his arms. Clutching it close, he entered the hallway. The quiet shuffling of a large pair of feathered wings ahead of him guided him down the dimly lit hallway and down a flight of twisting stairs of a vanilla-cone colored wood.
He followed the sly shape to the back door, one usually used to gain access to the gardens behind the Enchantress's castle. When the Lord first arrived, there had still been white lilies left - they had all long been replaced by blood-red roses and other flowers. Some old statues were reculpted as well and now took the frightening forms of dragons; he did his best to avoid looking at them and their judging gazes. A chilly breeze caressed Ash's bare side and he shivered, sniffling as he wondered if it was simply nature or if Night Raven knew that he was following. Nevertheless, he continued on, using his staff to counteract his stuttering steps.
The delicate balance of the fallen Guardian was steady and showed no signs of distraction, and Ash was having a difficult time keeping his eyes open as tiredness clung to his weary bones. Half out of habit, he called softly, "R-Raven, sl-slow down." His weight collapsed against the shaft of his staff and was raised up only when Raven hoisted him back to his feet by his forearms.
"Why did you follow me?" Raven asked, voice hushed and worried.
Ash leaned into the other, mumbling, "I heard you. Why are you out-?" His words were cut off by a sneeze - the cold air wasn't doing his brittle face any favors. He found himself suddenly being swept up into the warm arms of the dark archer, so much so that his feet no longer touched the ground. Ash felt his eyes begin to water and buried his face in the other's scarf. "It's cold out here… don't you want a blanket?"
Raven sighed, gently holding the equivalent of an icepack to his chest. He rested his head against Ash's and murmured, "Don't need one."
"Oh…" the Lord hummed, looking back at the ground while pulling Raven closer to himself. He said nothing more as the archer settled himself at the base of a nearby tree, cradling Ash in his lap. Ash noted that the slight breeze had calmed further; the air near grew still and circulated lazily so flowers danced to its slow rythmn. He sneezed again.
With a soft whoosh , Raven's wings unfolded and spread and wrapped around the two like curtains drawn to close. Ash turned to smile at the archer, who slipped a sly one back to match; the spirit giggled quietly, reaching over to gently brush his hand against the side of the other's face, to which said other leaned into.
"You're very cold," Raven muttered, dull eyes sparkling ever so slightly. He drew the other closer as if trying to take away the consistent chill that hung over the spirit.
"Mm… I know." Ash curled up in a comfy little ball, nuzzling his face against Raven.
Raven's lips pursed as he sighed, "You should go inside." Ash's expression fell, echoing a kind of sickness that his guardian did not understand.
"I want to be here… with you ."
"... I can't let you freeze."
Ash carefully ran a hand across the wall of feathers that encompassed them, gently tweaking their position with his long nails as if he were preening them. "I can handle it."
"Mhm." Raven paused, then relented. "Fine. But when you get too uncomfortable, I told you so and you should tell me so I can bring you back inside."
"I will, promise," the Lord grinned tiredly and dropped his hand, preferring to simply snuggle with the archer. Raven relaxed, content and comforted. The two stayed silent for a time, listening to the distant cawing of crows and the rustling of flower petals running in the wind. When the sun was minutes from waking, Ash finally admitted that he should go back to bed; Raven simply lifted them both up and carried them there, where they slept the morning away.