Chapter Text
There are many things Truthless Recluse has come to regret. Failing his people in their time of need; losing the friendships he once cherished deeply; and losing his faith when his truth was put to the test. In his long existence, kept alive only by the will of his Souljam, Recluse has come to regret many things.
Currently, he strongly regrets allowing the Sage of Truth free passage into the Peak of Truth, as the blankets he was curled under were ripped away from him with a gleeful laugh.
"I have graciously allowed you to sleep the entire day, dear, and now it is time to rise! Up, up! There is still so much I have to prepare, oh, what to do-?"
What in the Witch's name was that fool going on about? Cracking his eyes open, Recluse glared at the offending image of Sage in front of him, glistening as ever and standing in stark contrast to the rest of the dreary room that was his bedroom. Even his grin was too bright to look at, mischievous and brimming with excitement.
Recluse ducked his head back into his pillow. "Sage, it's midnight," he mumbled in a drowsy tone.
"Precisely! The perfect time for a quiet outing, wouldn't you agree?"
The hermit groaned in response. He heard Sage giggle above him before his hand settled on the back of his neck.
"Come now, it will be lovely. No one will see us or bother us, and what better a night when the Moon will grace us fully with her presence?" Sage said, his voice dropping low as he whispered into his ear. "Just the two of us, we can watch the Sun make its ascent over the Eastern horizon without the worry of our responsibilities, even if only for a moment. Is that not a beautiful image?"
The hermit said nothing. The hand shifted, nails skimming over his scalp and carefully undoing any knots in their way. A content sigh escaped Recluse, and he felt Sage's lips brush against the shell of his ear that will leave behind the faintest trace of blue-lipstick.
"Ten minutes, dear. If you are not ready in ten minutes, I will pull you out of bed, pajamas and all, and lock you out of the bedroom for the rest of the day. That should be enough time to get everything ready," he all but cooed, pressing his nails firmly against the base of his neck.
Recluse was well aware of how easily those nails could cut his dough. They had when Sage pulled his hand away too quickly from his own during an argument, or when Sage forgets his own strength and punctures his dough thoughtlessly. Only to himself he would admit that he liked it- when Sage's carefully crafted persona of the righteous scholar faltered for a moment, when the more unsavory aspects of his character leaked through his mask. A mark that showed that Sage was his, even if the scholar apologized profusely for the injuries.
If only he knew Recluse enjoyed it so much. But, right now, they were more threatening than enjoyable, and he knew Sage would make good on his threat.
After a moment, Recluse mumbles a muffled response. "Fine," he says, voice still laced with tiredness even though he has slept for hours.
A kiss is pressed into his temple, and he hears Sage step away from the bed. "Splendid!" He cheered, heels clicking as he makes his exit. "Do not worry, dear! I will make sure to bring your favorites."
The door shuts behind him, cutting off the quiet hum Sage does whenever he gets his way, and Recluse finally lifts his head up from the pillow. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark room and find his staff propped up against the nightstand. He could have sworn he left it by the desk last night, too tired to set it by the bed before collapsing onto the soft sheets, but here it was. The eyes in the center were shut, and petals a glossy dark blue with droplets of water clinging to the surface.
Ah. Sage. Of course.
Removing himself from the comforts of his bed and taking hold of the staff, Recluse forces himself to get ready. Ten minutes wasn't long at all, but knowing Sage it might be too long in his opinion. Every action he took was calculated down to the second- it was a wonder that Sage didn't constantly hound him to move faster, stop wasting time, just get up-
It was... hmm. Comforting isn't the right word. Kind felt too reductive, but sweet wasn't right, either. He does little things like this whenever it fancies him, either to pester him about maintenance or to show that he can. But, in a strange way, the act of caring at all made his heart flutter even with his attempts to stifle such feelings.
His robes sit heavy on his shoulders, and he adjust his hat to hide the horns on top his head. They were recently trimmed, barely reaching his floppy ears with the tips rounded to prevent any scrapes in his sleep. Recluse runs a hand through his hair quickly as he makes for the exit as the ten minute mark nears. He didn't need another cursed lock to dispel when the last one ended so horribly.
He finds Sage putting a tablecloth inside a wooden picnic basket with food containers floating alongside him. A tea pot hovered in front of him with tea leaking out from the top, smelling of black vanilla tea. Recluse taps the tea pot with his staff and sends it back to Sage.
"Your insistence in exaggerating every outing we partake in is exhausting," Recluse sighed.
Sage's head spun around to face him while he continued packing the basket. The first time he pulled that trick Recluse hit him overhead with his staff till it spun back around.
"Hmm, I would disagree. Never once have you refused at least three cups of tea with a bit of sugar, or the cream puff pastries with blueberry jam on top. I'm afraid if I did not pack enough, you would be disappointed because of our limited selection!"
"Then at least fix your mess," Recluse huffed as he dodged a pecan-pie floating near him. "You lecture me on making messes when you are the one responsible for the burnt oven."
"Details, details," Sage hums, head snapping back into place as he closes the lid of the basket.
He holds out his palm for Recluse, those sharp, painted nails curving into fine points. Recluse slips his hand into his, weaving their fingers together and squeezing his hand tight. Basket settled on his elbow, Sage opens a dark portal in front of them and guides him through.
On the other side, they land in a forest with ancient trees that grow over ruins and thorn bushes heavy with ripe berries. Looking through his staff and ignoring the distortion around his vision, Recluse spots a clearing a few feet away with a table and chairs already set for them. Sage pulls him along, hovering over the ground as he always does while guiding him around large roots. Closer up, he can see that the table and chairs were made of silver that held hues of green and purple.
"Are we in Faeriewood?" Recluse asked, raising his brow curiously.
"Close by," Sage dutifully responded as he set the basket on the table and began unpacking. "Not too close to alert the faeries of our presence or to be attacked by yeast-spores, but not too far away that we cannot enjoy the scenery."
"And this table? I hardly believe you just happened to find it while out exploring in these woods."
Sage laughed at that, setting a teacup in front of him and passing over the plate of cream puffs. "You would be correct- I had to ask Shining Salt if I may borrow them for the evening. He was curious; after all, what need do I have for a fae's table? But he was gracious enough to let me have it in the meantime."
Clapping his hands together, a tall candle appeared at the center of the table. It lit on its own accord, and Sage leaned onto the table with his head cradled in his hands.
"Watch the woods, dear, or you'll miss it," he whispered, turning his gaze onto the surrounding forest.
The eyes of his orchid staff close, and Recluse turns his attention towards the forest. He couldn't see much- his vision too blurry to differentiate between the trees and bushes- and even with the Moon's light it did little to illuminate the forest in front of him. The forest was dead quiet. There was no wind to rattle the branches above; no crickets chirping their songs; no hoot of an owl. There was only silence.
He thought for a moment that Sage had tricked him- played another game to make him appear like a fool- when he saw a twinkle. An ember, almost, that flickered within the shadows. Slowly, more came into view, flittering about in the clearing and circling around their table. He held out a finger, and watched as a tiny firefly landed on his fingertips.
"These... aren't the ones back in the village," Recluse notes, holding the bug close to his face as he examined the shimmering of their wings.
"A new species. They documented only a few months ago, and they are fascinating creatures. They only come out during the Full Moon, and they..."
Whenever Sage began on a topic, it was difficult to get him to stop. He always had something to talk about, no matter the subject- insects, plants, history, architecture, anything- Sage always had something to say. Looking up from the firefly, Recluse's attention is easily drawn to the scholar. He didn't want him to stop.
Sage had been right in the end.
As the Moon finally began to set hours after they arrived, and the first rays of sunlight peaked over the Eastern horizon, it was beautiful. Sipping on his cooling tea, plate empty with only crumbs remaining, Recluse glanced back towards Sage. He had fallen asleep sometime ago, eyes fluttering shut and yawning into his sleeve as he struggled to remain awake. But sleep sunk its hooks into him, and now he slept with his arms cushioning his head.
"Fool," Recluse muttered to himself as he set the teacup aside.
Yet, Recluse made no move to disturb his rest. Instead, he turned his focus back onto the rising Sun, and let it bathe him in warmth. Yes, it wasn't so bad at all.