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The first time II noticed it - him? - he figured he'd drank too much redbull sap.
Entirely too willing to ignore the warhorse sniffing around his crop in favour of collapsing in his plush bed, the sorcerer flipped his open sign to closed and flopped up the stairs, through his flutteringly affronted curtains until he reached his dresser.
II stripped down to his small clothes quickly, leaving his daytime attire neatly folded in a pile on his dresser, and promptly dived into his mountain of soft blankets.
II only managed to hallucinate the creature in the brief few seconds of glancing by his window.
He had been knelt patiently at his altar awaiting the day's flame to outgrow the candle, watching the orange flicker yellow with shrinking flamboyance until the fire finally met the puddle of wax.
II's altar was placed in the corner of his ground floor, using the stairs as one wall and his work counter as another. Sheer, shimmering curtains blocked off his worktop, but still made it easy for magic to flow through its source and to the customers that appeared throughout the day.
The walls were almost bare — there was no windows behind the curtains as both he and Sleep took joy in the dim atmosphere, but there was a shelf that held a too-small plant pot. It was overgrown with IV's eager body.
II had known IV since they were small, since they were both human — IV wasn't always a plant, you see. As a younger and more curious sorcerer, II had been careless. With a floppy spell, his magic had spun away from the tree II had aimed at and licked around IV until the boy had shrunk to a seed. Now, years later, IV was larger than life and tangled through II's home among his position above Sleep's altar.
II's pretty sure he could change IV back into a human now that he's more experienced with magic, but he's also equally as certain IV enjoys living life this carefree more than he would living as a human.
II treats the shrine a bit like a IV's own bedroom, and he knows IV does through the way his vines grow aggressive if anyone gets too curious. It's usually quite dark, the other windows around the house can only offer such intensity, but three candles are always lit, right at the centre of the table — which is a heavy and wide set of logs stacked unevenly to provide shelves for the gimmicky tat he receives in thanks from customers. An offering is an offering, Sleep.
One candle sits on a wiry stand, towering above the rest. It's Sleep's — the only one that ever changes. II has a small, thin candle to the right of it that hasn't changed since he made the altar, and IV's is almost the same, but thicker and dark green in colour, sat to the left of Sleep.
The room is currently a bit messy with two cauldrons close by, filled with fermenting potions, and puddles of wax from the burning candles melting at such speeds, it is beginning to spill onto the floors and flooding into shells. II lets it happen because he knows Sleep is recently a bit desperate to cause havoc recently and it's between this, or bringing III back home to preform another "ritual".
Incense is burning in a scent II will remember to never buy again, smoke dancing through the curtains towards the backdoor. He tries to ignore it.
With practiced ease, II dipped his fingertips in the scalding grey pool. He started at the thumb and ended at his pinky finger, letting the wax drip onto the cooling wick until wax solidified onto his finger pads as a holy armour. The burn was almost a comfort rather than a shocking pain now.
The sorcerer collected the new day's candle carefully, ensuring nothing but his covered fingers were cradling it. A somewhat lighter grey was dotted in five small smudges of a dull shade from where it was lifted; a glittering taunt to II's eyes.
As soon as he placed the candle onto the melted residue of the last, a flame sparked at the wick and began to warm the room. It's flame danced around until it illuminated the room, mirroring the fireflies outside, and as II finally stood, he glanced out his window absentmindedly to look for them.
There was an odd shadow outside. Sleek, angular and dark, the shape of a true beast.
A few feet from his back door, behind his bed of herbs — as if that would hide it from view. Maybe it would have, if its head didn't tilt in curiosity while it watched II.
Its eyes were almost black, in the low moonlight — barely a curve to the crescent looming behind the figure's daunting antlers — and staring straight into II's. Large and glittering with ongoing tears, they were sunken in its face behind — a mask? It looks like it had once been smooth and solid, but now had eroded away by said tears. Floppy, mousy hair covered its head, clouding anything that would make it identifiable. The creature's antlers didn't quite sit upon its head, but poked through and entwined with the "mask" that covered the top half its face, leaving its lower half unprotected.
The mask had a crack running vertically through it's centre — one thick line through the middle with descended into a black vertical line that connected its lip and nose, both of which were also tipped in a darker shade. II would describe it as cute if he wasn't so shocked. Another fracture ran crooked from one side of its mask to the other, but it was a more shallow mark and penned in a bloody maroon.
His face was the only thing really covered.
In all the books II has ever read, centaurs have always been magical fiends, strong armed men atop equally brutish horses. This creature was nothing like that. Its arms were thin and wobbly, held awkwardly in a gesture similar to a halfhearted wave. The man — deer? Deerman? — had the potential to be thick and strong armed, with broad shoulders and its overall largeness, but the concavity of its stomach proved enough reason on why it wasn't. The lower half faded as skin lightened in a furry gradient into the same oak brown as its hair — from what II could tell — but he was too far to discover any true details. Not that he wanted to be closer to the deerman. Not at all.
It shared II's charcoal skin, igniting the intriguing idea that it too was one of Sleep's, but II overruled it at the sight of it's swooshing tail and the overall horse-y-ness. II would not dwell on it at all, thank you.
II had blinked, gaped at it for a few seconds too long, before pinching himself with his unwaxed hand and scurrying to bed.
His dreams that night confused him, all dark spirals and curving shapes gave way to lighter colours. His own face stared at him, maybe even through him. Usually dull eyes were much more vibrant and his were pupils larger than when III made him 'soup'. II tried hard to turn and find what his lookalike could see, but he found himself rooted in place, unable to distract himself from the brightness the other possessed. Suddenly, the lookalike's hand reached forwards, fingers embracing his face with searing pain, causing II's eyes to roll back until his head spun and white spots began to cover through his mind's eye.
He was groggy upon waking up, disgruntled at the sudden conscious. Only a faint glow of light dribbled through his window, but II jolted at the sight of it none the less.
The window itself wasn't anything shocking, as usual was it was embedded into the thick brick wall, allowing II a place to sit, warmed by the sun's rise and the moon's rein. It was large and mostly square, but rounding into something spherical at the top, and guarded with a thick, dark strip of wood that allowed it to swing open. However, there was marks on the glass — finger prints.
The sorcerer knew he wasn't be the cause due to his caution at leaving dirt and bad energy around the house, especially his bedroom, but if not that, the sheer size of the stains let him know he couldn't be.
The "hallucination" from the previous night slammed into the forefront of him mind with the weight of a stone, sending him scuttling across the cold floor and pressing his hand to the window where the mark lay. The smudges sat perfectly above each of his digits like a crown with daunting size.
II's room was up a creaky set of stairs, which should make his room basically inaccessible from the outside, but the sorcerer had thoughtfully placed his tool shed beneath his window with the intention of hiding from arrogant customers, and also III.
Yanking on his trousers and changing his vest to another identical black one, II barely managed to remember his robe as he fled downstairs, crashing into his garden.
II briefly thought about making an offering to Sleep for protection, but he knew Sleep would ward off the creature if it had truly bad intentions — if not for II, for his frankly beautiful altar.
At first glance, nothing was amiss. The trampled grass and bare berry bushes could be attributed to the fat bunnies that liked to freeload off his garden, but the spiral created with pebbles and smooth glass spheres could not be shaken off so easily. The glass was frosty and in varying pale colours, similar to the rare sea glass II seen pirates bring back for trade.
Wandering closer, II noticed a handprint and a few odd scuff marks accompanying the spiral that caused II to picture the massive warhorse tripping and falling face-first into the ground as it tried to create the design. He didn't laugh. He didn't.
Pointedly ignoring the swirling clouds that darker the further he ducked his head, II sighed, and wandered back to the house. The skies lighted as the sigil remained where it was created.
II was paranoid and distracted the entire day. Every creak in the floor had his head swivelling around to greet it, and yet when costumers were visiting, his mind was elsewhere. He was half expecting the stone spiral to summon a fiend or catch aflame and burn all his scriptures. The sorcerer's worries faded as the sun fell from the sky and painted it progressively darker — announcing dusk.
II usually kept his door sign flipped open until the last possible minute — he's got his routine down sharp, thank you — but his impatience got the better of him and as colours dulled the pinks to deep blues, he raced to lock the door. The quicker he closed up, the more time he would have with his altar, with Sleep.
Kneeling at the shrine, II watched as the candle melted away in swirling patterns, the centre burning through first, revealing the paler colour inside. Sleep silent voice poked at him, urging him outside. He grunted, but obediently sat up straighter to hurry Sleep up. As soon as the night ritual finished, II's knees were cracking under the pressure of standing up so quickly. He knew what Sleep wanted now.
Deerman was clearly one of Sleep's creations, the sorcerer realised. II wondered why She needed to summon a creature to tell him something, rather than just sending a dream.
As he sped out the door, II scanned the garden. He felt like he was being watched, but couldn't tell where the sensation came from. He had padded out barefoot, shivering at the cooling grass tickling at his toes. He didn't have to walk far, just to the edge of his garden, towards the looming fruit trees.
Shucking off his robe, II began to fold it. Once pristine and smoothed out, he lowered it to the ground beneath his favourite tree. Looking around, he noticed a rogue patch of white, fluffy dandelions. Frowning, he yanked them out of the ground and tittered about pesky weeds. He left them in a bundle for the deer to eat, rather than his precious potted flowers. With one last peek around him, II scampered back inside and into the comfort of his bedroom.
Ivy had pointedly followed him upstairs and began to curl around his walls, covering nearly his entire window in thick layers, leaving only the handprint visible. II fired two fingers up from where he was buried in bed.
When II woke up next, his garden was empty. His robe was nowhere to be found and all the weeds had disappeared from the grass. II smiled and continued his day.
Days bled into weeks and the waxing crescent reached it's first quarter without any signs of mysterious creatures being close by. If it wasn't for II's new robe, there would be no evidence to support the creature's existence. Well, that and the unusual lack of dandelions in his garden despite the season.
II rarely worked in his garden, in all honesty. He had a few beds planted with herbs he often needed, and some fruit trees sprinkled along his stone wall so he could refuse trading food for medicine — he knows it's rude, but II thought this was the nicest way to deny the offer. Sleep forbid he wanted some recognisable money.
Despite all this, II was lying down on the grass soaking up the sun. He had spent the day sweating, digging into dirt and then forcing driftwood into the pits to form another planting plot, so relaxing while he had the chance was greatly appreciated. The sun had been unusually aggressive today, and II knew there would be very few bold enough to make the trek up the corkscrew hill to reach his shop, so he took the opportunity to keep his sign flipped closed and allow himself to commit to tedious chores he had been ignoring in favour of working.
Now, with all his tasks completed, the sorcerer felt unusually at peace. His wildflowers were blooming beautifully in front of the pots of roses and lilies, whispering their gratitude towards him, and the long grass had even joined in with their own dance. At some point earlier in the morning, Ivy had slinked out the backdoor to take in the direct sunlight. The devious plant had enjoyed his day pestering II, the sorcerer was sure, but had evidently tired himself out. He had climbed the walls before the sun had started to set, and now clothed his roof in thick vines.
II had spent half the day in a paranoid state convinced III would join them outside to whistle suggestively at II's shirtless state, but even the heat was too much for such a demon.
Birds flocked the shaded areas by and on the stone walls and sang with the rest of his greenery, and when II felt happy enough, he fled down to the water-well and dragged pots of cool water into his yard for the sweltering animals.
The deer he was looking for never appeared, so he stole a dandelion from the ground and angrily blew the seeds away. As he watched the white fluff swirl into the breeze, he wondered if he had scared the creature away just as ferociously.
As the summer months peaked, II saw less and less of the white fluff and more of its yellow counterpart. He let them grow and ignored the voice in his head that screamed in excitement every time he awoke and found them missing. Deerman was nowhere to be found.
Sleep pulled back from him as his mood worsened and II found himself gazing at the full moon again. He had taken a walk down to a small area of flatland further down the hill in a spontaneous decision, and now was paying for his stupidity. His dark arms transformed into a deep navy as the cool, night air bit into his bare skin.
The sky was a shade more colourful than his own skin, and rather than runes, the stars decorated it. Bright and unblemished by clouds, II found each planet and constellation he could name. Over time, through II's exhausted vision, the stars moved and formed their own galaxy. They curved closer together until they made one large spiral that moved and turned until the world felt dizzy.
Hours deep into this daze, II was too distracted by his own chattering teeth to notice it.
A sudden cough made II startle, snapping his head towards the sound. There, in all its glory — or maybe in a sleep-deprived hallucination — was II's deer. Surrounded by loitering fireflies and draped in II's robe, staring back at II for the second time.
The unexpectedly deep voice almost distracted the sorcerer from the oddity's words. Almost. "I am a Vessel of Sleep."
II snorted a laugh, and stopped himself from ogling the centaur, "Tell me something I don't know."
Deerman — Vessel — shifted from hoof to hoof and blinked owlishly at II.
“Oh,” Vessel says, more sound than word. II smiled and decided to take pity on the awkward creature. He stuck his hand out, "I am also a vessel of Sleep, but II sounds better."
The full moon swelled and brightened as Vessel offered a handful of yellow dandelions out instead of a handshake.
II had never felt happier.
They had talked for what seemed like both a few minutes and also II's entire life before the sun had began to peak at them. II flushed at his own lack of manners and promptly dragged Vessel up the hill. It took a bit off labour for II to open the double doors (for the first time in their existence, II guesses) and then leading Vessel into the house, but soon enough they were both sat with a steaming bowl of vegetable soup by the fireplace. The fire cracked and popped as it ate away at the wood along with the two, and II found himself grateful for the noise it provided. Silence didn't feel awkward with it, only warm and comforting.
Ivy slithers into the room once he hears II laugh, curious. II watches him intertwine with the stair banisters and settle. Vessel glances over, confused, as II gazes behind him.
"Another vessel?" He wonders.
II blinks at him, "How can you can tell?"
"Not many plants grow so rapidly." And II hums in understanding.
"This is IV, he is a human-turned-plant," he explains, "Essentially, I messed up a spell and ruined his life." Ivy moves fast, then. Curling around his ankle and squeezing until II squeaks out apologies.
"I turned him accidentally," He grunts, trying to push him away and keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice, "It totally wasn't my fault, at all."
IV rises menacingly and waves a thin vine his way, causing II to raise his own hands up faux fearfully.
"Anyway, Ivy meet Vessel, Vessel meet Ivy," He presses them towards each other. Ivy took him in thoughtfully, then promptly swam through Vessel's robe to reach the hood. He curled around his antlers and settled happily, looking awfully regal. Vessel blinked dumbly all while it happened, and II tried his best not to laugh.
"He likes you," He translated and Vessel's cheeks changed to a lovely rose.
"I like him, also." He decided. II beamed happily at the both of them.
The three stayed like that until the sun began to knock against his windows in full force, forcing II to begin his day. He apologised as he made way to flip the door sign, but Vessel shook his head and disappeared through the door and into the scenery without a word. II's aches in an unfamiliar way, and he thinks about his dark eyes and II's own goddamn robe hanging off his thin frame for the rest of the day. It doesn't mean he has a crush on him.
An elderly woman petted his arm as he escorted her out with a basketful of restorative potions and proudly declared, "You're in love." before beginning her trek downwards, effectively stopping II's refusals before they could start. II thinks he wouldn't have any real arguments to give anyway. IV's leaves shake in laughter at the sight of him.
II is pretty sure he has a crush on Vessel.
The moon is waning again on the night II returns from the village after a long day of tending to a sick family and making the most of the long journey by entertaining trades. It's a long and tedious walk from his home to the town centre, so II doesn't often commit to the journey. The days he does, he makes it in the early morning and doesn't arrive back until dark.
II hasn't locked his doors since the first day Vessel entered, so it's easy enough to nudge the handle open and enter, even with full hands. He noisily drops a bundle of coins on his counter and begins to tidy his new belongings into their respective places.
With a handful of jewellery in tow, he pulls back the curtains just to find Vessel in his shrine. Allowing him to have some private time with Sleep, II settles into his kitchen to make them both food. One fresh fruit has been cut, he collects it all into a bowl and sets it down by the broth he has made, then carefully waddles past the curtain.
He promptly shrieks in horror.
Vessel is stood in the middle of the room, head tilted down to the altar until II's scream, holding a burning candle. An impossible amount of wax is pooled in his hands, dripping from his reddening fingers and onto the floors. It's Vessel's own candle, he realises distantly, but is too preoccupied worrying about the intense burns the creature has surely just given himself.
II moves Vessel until his hands are above the altar and then tells him to sit the goddamn candle down, so help me Sleep.
Wax loudly explodes onto the table in a deep red splat as Vessel unclasps his hands to place the candle down. He sets it just in front of Sleep's, and II can't stop the smile that splits onto his face at the sight. He still doesn't allow himself to linger on the thought, not just yet.
He chips off the drying wax, staring disdainfully at the swirling paths it leaves on his fingertips and further up onto his wrists. II holds Vessel's scorched hands with his slightly cooler ones. He presses a soft kiss to the palm and then forces him to follow him out to the main room to eat.
II makes sure he’s sitting comfortably then he begins his search for healing potions and burn creams, like this is any other day and nerves aren’t setting his teeth on edge. He glances at Merlin from time to time to check he hasn’t run off to do nothing stupid.
It isn't until all the fruit has been eaten and broth drank that II allows himself to relax. He had made Vessel drink three healing draughts due to the horse aspect of the man, and also smothered both his hands in a cool white cream. They were settled on II's favourite blanket, facing the fireplace that remained unlit.
They haven't actually spoken yet, allowing the atmosphere to tense around them. II figures they should rather sooner than later.
"So," He begins, and tries to ignore the way Vessel harshly sucks in a breath, "What was that about?"
"You did it, before."
"I most certainly have never done something like that," II guffaws, "Tell me the truth."
"I am!" He defends himself, but II squints dubiously.
"Is it an emotional thing? Are you feeling," he paused, thinking carefully, "Lonely?"
“I’m not lonely,” Vessel grumbles under his breath as he begins to settle properly down under his blanket, barely audible. “Not with you here.”
"The first time you seen me," He starts, and II bites his lip to stop the long list of question that creates from spilling. "You burnt your fingers for Sleep. A respect thing, I believed. I thought this would please Sleep." The tone Vessel takes on is almost whiny, "And you, maybe."
II turns with him so he's fixed against Vessel's warm body, and only lets his face fall once he’s safely facing away from the taller and his expression is guarded by darkness. “Goodnight, Vessel.”
“Goodnight."
A few days later, Vessel appears just as the sun sets with a handful of small, smooth crystals. II places them around Vessel's candle and watches as the wax circles and spirals around them for a few moments. He returns to Vessel's side soon enough.
“It’s healing really well.” II tells him with a smile, before his lips quirk down into a frown. “Though it’ll still scar pretty bad.”
Vessel shrugs. “It’s okay. No one but you will see it."
II doesn't know if he should be honoured or sad about that, so he chooses to ignore it all together in favour of reapplying more cream to his hands. As Vessel visits more and they becomes a regular thing between the two, the sorcerer selfishly begins introducing Vessel to the concept of teasing:
"I don't know if my stairs are built for centaurs," II begins, "You might have to go the outside way — you're familiar enough, anyway." He laughs, enjoying the way Vessel's whole body flames.
The centaur does climb into II's room using his shed, but he doesn't loose the red flush until a few hours later.
Reaching it's third quarter, the moon shushes II halfway to sleep, body slipping under the distant, weighty fuzz that comes just before slipping under, when he hears it: the warm noise of Vessel shifting outside his window, the creak of the wooden frame, a thump of heavy weight hitting his floor.
He doesn’t move. Moving would mean acknowledging the centaur in his bedroom, which would mean either choosing to stop this (something he should have done a while ago, all things considered), or choosing to let it keep happening, and both options felt equally impossible. Instead, he stays eerily still and lets Vessel make the decision.
II feels somewhat responsible for every emotion Vessel feels, and knowing he feels sad at any point leaves the sorcerer quite irrationally devastated. Especially since II hasn't done anything to combat it since the night of the confession.
Vessel’s body slinks closer to him, his hooves loud against the wood. He ghosts over the layers of furs on II’s bed, hand resting thoughtfully for a moment on the boniest part of his shoulder.
II jolts upright as Vessel suddenly yanks him backwards, he's scrambling midair in a panic.
"Don't lie," the creature tuts.
"I didn't even say anything!" He shrieks, chest heaving even as Vessel steadies him against his torso. Vessel snorts and ignores his words in favour of biting roughly between shoulder and throat. II will deny the frankly embarrassing noise he made if Vessel questions it later on.
"Move." He demands, and II does. Detaching himself from Vessel, he shuffles over to the wall and pulls his admittedly excessive pile of blankets, allowing Vessel to settle on the mattress. It took a few tries for the positioning to become easy and comfortable, but now Vessel rested against a few soft feather pillows and held II close.
As he spends more nights like this, II's candle brightens transforms from colourless to a lovely deep purple. The sorcerer hadn't ever seen a shade so rich. He was almost proud of himself.
II had dreaded this day. He knew Vessel was too kind and pure to ever have to deal with III, but here they were.
II and III have been 'friends' for many years. They might not be each other's favourite people, but as Sleep's only human vessels, they're close enough. Nobody was actually entirely sure what III was, and II would have argued it was prejudiced to call him a demon had he not embodied one so well. Standing well over two meters with charcoal skin that dipped into a blood red, III was no heartwarming sight. He had golden teeth that pointed dangerously into his lips and a consistently threatening tone, but beneath it all, II knew him to be somewhat caring. The man had met IV and they immediately fell into an odd relationship of love for one another.
III had narrowly missed meeting IV when he was a human, something II is eternally grateful for, and yet, for all the shit they give each other, II would probably kill for the taller man if it came down to it. He's certain it's a shared sentiment.
II's always been some sort of a tactile person, especially with III (and even previously IV). Shoves and punches and scuffles, the usual. Horseplay. II snorts aloud at that and ignores the look he receives for it. So he doesn't think twice against slumping into III's side an hour deep into the conversation, letting III welcome him by slinging an eager arm over his shoulders.
Sat against the house walls, letting IV crawl over his lap to reach and smother III, II introduces Vessel to III.
II watches III's eyes flit uncertainly at the beast in front of him, but after he watches IV snake around his hooves, he warms up to Vessel.
II's grateful he had bothered to be patient with Vessel and teach him the wonders of playful banter — he's sure this night would have been much more awkward and stilted if III had to explain every stupid comment he made. It was almost fun to hear them interact.
II had tuned III out as soon as he started hearing his usual make-believe stories of the demon's adventures from different times throughout his life. The sorcerer had likely heard every lie before, anyway.
III had arrived close to dusk with a handful of something green, only to drop it in shock as he walked through the door and come face to face with a centaur. He loudly mourned it later.
The sky had no colour left in it, now. Stars changed into fireflies as they got closer to the ground, and II's eyes drooped to the sound of Vessel's grumbling voice and III's warm hands petting his arms.
A few days had past since II had last seen Vessel, but he kept himself busy with pesky customers and their peskier common colds. Currently, II was sat by the fire rereading a basic health potion book.
A faint rustle outside made II glance up, and upon noticing Vessel looming outside, he nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes widening and jaw dropping with surprise. Vessel looked at him expectantly, his hands reaching out to thump against the window. He looked terrible. Dishevelled hair, haunted eyes, reddish velvet hanging from his antlers. It might have looked intimidating had the tear streaks on his mask not have been noticeably larger than usual. His robe was wrinkled and ripped, limply hanging around his waist. The sleeves were bunched up exposing his bony wrists. II frowned at the sight.
Abandoning the incredibly boring book, II bounced up and out the door in seconds. He flung himself at his deer as soon as he was in reach and left a kiss to his nose.
"What in the seven hells happened to you?"
II thumbed the ache of his antlers and grimaced sympathetically when it came back smudged and red. He cradled Vessel's face and brought that dirtied finger to draw on a swirl on his right cheek, connecting it up the the red fractures. He finished the stroke with a kiss. Repeating this on the other side in a symmetrical motion, Vessel inched closer and left a kiss on palm of his hand.
They don’t kiss again. But II lets his eyes fall shut. Leans forward and presses his forehead to Vessel's warm and bare chest, the heat of him heavy and solid and here. Vessel's robe crumples and flutters against II, ruining his hair. The sorcerer can't find himself to care. They rest in silence, letting the fireflies relax around them. The smaller man can't stop himself from fretting about the other. Deer shed their antlers all the time, II knows that much, but he doesn't know how painful it is or why it happens.
II's voice was soft and cushiony with worry, "Does it hurt?" Vessel shook his head, but his expression was pinched.
"I'll get some medicine," He offered, "It'll help you get better."
Suddenly and unsteadily Vessel stood up, forcing II into movement alongside him.
"I will be back." He promised, head tilted down but avoiding II's questioning eyes. He faded into the darkness before the sorcerer could think to question him. II grunted and sent a scathing glare into the darkness. Knowing Vessel, he could be gone for an hour or a few weeks, so II knew there was no use waiting outside for him to come back.
Shuffling inside, II prepared pain-dulling drinks and similar pastes before angrily committing to his night ritual. There was a low chance that Vessel would come back soon enough to drink them, the sorcerer knew he wouldn't rest until they were made. Spitefully, II locked his front door and pretended to not notice how his window and backdoor remained unlocked.
The moon is new, and with it comes Vessel. They're both changed, but the centaur is far more shocking. His familiar antlers are gone, replaced by stubby new horns. His face is entirely different, and would be blocked off completely, if not for the gap at his mouth. II mourns the loss of his cute nose.
In his wiry arms, he clutches his old mask and another handful of dandelions . An offering, II thinks. To Sleep or him, he's not too sure.
II stares silently as he steps outside. It's hard to see anything clearly with hardly any moonlight. The clouds cover any stars that would dare help II.
“I’m fine, really,” Vessel muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Don’t you dare say that!” II snapped, his patience wearing thin. He stepped closer, his breath obvious in the cold air, "Your face-"
"I'm getting better, like you asked." His tone was biting, causing the smaller man to squint.
"Gaining two extra pairs of eyes is not what I meant!"
Vessel shrugged, "You should have specified, then." And stomps to II's apple tree, making a show of chewing loudly. II gapes at him and his audacity, following after him quickly.
"What the ever loving fuck, Vess?" He demanded, "You've been gone for days and the last I seen of you, your antlers were bleeding. Now, you come back, a week later, practically unrecognisable—"
Vessel grunts angrily, practically spitting out the words: "I was giving you some time with III." It's a wonder he didn't choke around the mouthful of fruit.
The words make so little sense, II can only screw his face up in bewilderment and continue to glare at Vessel until he explains.
"He said you and him are all each other have in life."
“Sleep above, Vessel, you're my life. Don't you know that?”
“Don't lie, II—” Vessel breaks off partway into an angry exclamation, some sort of realization breaking over his expression as he looks at II and takes in the earnest downright confusion on his face.
"III is a shithead, I assumed you would have noticed that after spending some time with him," II groans, "He is also mankind's biggest liar and fraud."
Vessel's smile is small, but it’s there.
"I see III maybe once per moon, and I'm not sure if it's escaped your notice, but you were there when he was here last. Sleep, Vessel. Why would I need time for III? Especially without you?" II couldn't believe he was so daft. "You're all I've cared about since I first seen you, Vess. III's been around my entire life, sure, but Sleep knows there is a reason I keep him so far away. He only ever really comes around for Ivy, or to smoke. You're all I think about, even when I'm with III. Ask him, even, he complains that you're all I talk about," He knows his face is unusually flushed, "You matter. It's only you I love."
It wasn't really the way II had been planning to tell him, but it's too late to take the words back now. In all honesty, if he didn't do it then, II isn't sure he ever would have.
“You’re not the first person I’ve had to take care of. Sleep knows IV would die without me. Just let me help you," He added, "Please."
"Help each other?" He offered, a tad guiltily.
II's eyes glittered and his neck hurt at the speed he nodded. Vessel steadied his head with two large hands, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"I'm sorry." Vessel promised, but II pressed a finger against his lip before he could continue.
"Let's talk over food, if we must."
Ivy had perked up as they entered their house, eagerly wrapping himself around Vessel's arms and taking his mask from him and taking it into the shrine. II snorted at the sight, "He likes you more than me, you know." Vessel smiled smugly and petted the vines, twirling the dandelions into his leaves like a flower crown.
II makes what he knows Vessel likes best: vegetable soup. He takes the offered dandelions from Vessel and leaves the flower to float around, then returns the stem to him to snack on. He cooks in silence, letting himself relax to the sound of Vessel's obnoxious chewing.
The scene becomes familiar as they settle on the ground, but II faces Vessel instead of settling against him. He allows himself to take in his new mask. It's certainly different, but it looks similar enough.
A completely different shape, more blockier than his last, but made from the same bone. There's new markings, changed from Vessel's unique ones to what II knows lies on his own face. It feels like a proposal. II can't allow himself to linger on that when he reaches the three sets of eyes, again.
"What's with the eyes? So you can keep a pair on III at all times?"
Vessel grinned, "How did you know?" He laughed. II had missed the sound so dearly, he couldn't stop the dopey smile forming on his face.
"In all honesty, I'm not sure why Sleep gave me them."
That made II pause, gobsmacked. He abandoned his soup beside him and suddenly, in the fire lit darkness, lunges, reaching forwards to inspect his face closer up. True enough, behind each slit held another pupil. He gasps in horror.
"Can you read minds now?" He asks, a bit dumbly.
"Only yours," Vessel decides.
"Then why did you think me and III needed time alone?"
Vessel flushes and breaks their eye contact. II laughs at him, not unkindly.
"I am sorry" He repeats, reviving the previous conversation.
"For being an idiot?"
He receives a scathing glare (or maybe three scathing glares?) and is, quite rudely, ignored.
"I didn't intend to avoid you for so long, but I was in a bad mood, and after that I became distracted with the making of my mask."
The sorcerer could admit this was a reasonable defence, but-
"Why not make the mask here? Couldn't you take a break? Come visit?" II knew he was being difficult, but his week had been difficult. "I mean, Gods, weeds started growing again. I thought you had left, or maybe something had happened." The thought alone was enough for II to tear up.
Vessel pulls him closer, arms linking around II's stomach and manoeuvring them both until II's back was nestled against his chest. A tear rolls down his cheek and Vessel forces him to take his soup back and resume eating. The silence continues until their food is gone, they're both too deep in thought to maintain a conversation.
Vessel's bowl clinks once it hits the floor and he finally hugs II properly. Tight arms and warm skin, breathing against the smaller man's scalp.
"I'd never leave," He vows, voice quiet, but tone serious, "Never again."
II can't help but believe him, despite it all. His throat is scratchy from crying, but he croaks out: "You better not."
Suddenly II’s crying messily, because he just can’t seem to stop the tears and he’s more happy than he’s ever been in his life. There's a knot in his throat and he's warbling against words he wants to say, and Vessel, lovely Vessel, is pulling him until they're chest to chest and all II can do is let his cries drench Vessel's shoulder.
As his emotions dull down, he becomes tired. His eyelids wilt and exhaustion takes over.
When he awakes, it's to IV's insistent tickling. After a moment of disorientated confusion, II realised they're by the altar. It's a new day, which he can only tell by the changed candle. II pets IV apprecitivetly at the detail. Behind him, Vessel snored softly.
A vine waves at him menacingly and II blinks back confused. It pokes him on the nose and then directs his attention upwards.
II notices it, belatedly. On the previously bare wall, IV is splayed out wildly. In the center of his mess, he holds Vessel's old mask. By either side, vines protrude in an impressive imitation of Vessel's antlers. II's certain they're an identical replica of them.
"Ivy," He can't help but gasp, "You're so perfect, Ives, thank you." He can't quite articulate the emotion that swells, and he cried himself out last night, so he pets IV a bit more firmly and hopes IV knows what he means. He does. IV always knows. His flame flicks towards him, large and as gold as ever.
The shrine hasn't ever looked better. This past moon has been filled but nothing with luck that II dares to attribute to the new red candle. II's own is a shocking purple, brighter than ever before, and he knows that is due to Vessel, at the least. Decorations have taken on a new kind. New kinds of stones whisp around each object, all coming to meet beneath Sleep's stand. Another spiral. Small flowers sat in bunches around the edges of each log, and a beautifully crafted pot of sugar sits atop one of the lower wooden shelves, and gold chains drip from each individual layer. The sorcerer can't help but grin proudly at the miles the altar has come. The walls have taken on new life, thanks to IV, and the shrine glows with glee along with it. In the early morning sun, the glittery curtains allows stars to dance against the mask, and its smooth surface becomes something regal. Each individual vine writhes under all the attention and II guiltily vows to invite III around more often, feeling rather remorseful of the neglect IV had received from II throughout these years.
There is a river of dry wax flowing down the wood and II is oddly grateful to still be able to see the darkness that flowed previously beneath new, thinner layers of brighter wax. At the base of the table, plain black is cemented to the floor. II is all too familiar with the years that the shade burned for.
II knows he will have to gift Vessel something in thanks, and he thinks back to a shop in the village that held gorgeously leatherbound notebooks.
The day melts away lethargically, and the only thing that changes is the scenery as the three of them make their way outside. The weather is warm again, not even a faint breeze could be felt on their and II finds himself sprawled across Vessel's fluffy back as clouds move the sunbeams across his bare back. They're sat on Vessel's old ruined robe and IV watches them from his position on the roof and shakes a few leaves off to tease them. Vessel tail slicks them away, but there is no feelings other than content surrounding them.
Vessel's so warm, so beautifully big and warm, and II lets out an involuntary little sound of content, burrowing a little further bit into his arms, smothering himself into his fur. Only once, throughout the entire evening, do any of them get up. It's Vessel, lazily shuffling towards the fruit trees to retrieve more than an armful of crisp apples and juicy plums. They gorge themselves on the garden's treasure and then, for the first time, share sweet kisses. The birds coo at them while bugs cover their eyes. II's colourful wildflowers wave over butterflies and bees, and instantly, II's world expands into brightness. The shadows the tree's cast are nothing but another shade of green, and no colour is as magnificent as Vessel's red.
The sun calls down to them and, today, they stay intertwined for her.