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#deliengea one shots
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Day 7: Cherry Blossom
(not proof read)
The sun was starting to set over the lake. An array of soft oranges, purples and pinks filtering through large, puffy and cream clouds that stretched across the canvas of sky. Reflecting off the mirror like surface of the lake so that there was nothing but painted colour and light for miles on end. A serene, picturesque scene so ethereal that it was too perfect to be real. 
From beneath a cherry blossom, whose branches curved down to hang over the lake, its dainty, bright and sweetly fragrant flowers basking in the warm glow of dawn, Jean watched in silence as he rested against the base of the tree. Enjoying the peace and quiet that came with the end of the day and letting his mind relax for once. Just...being. Existing in that moment without being plagued by thoughts that never slept. 
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Day 5: Spring
(Mobile and not proof read)
Spring, Jean had decided, was his favourite season. It won by a landslide.
Winter was too cold and nights were spent hungry, Summer was too hot and he sweat through every article of clothing, and Autumn meant more work because he had to scrape up as much food and money as he could before the snow hit.
Spring meant he could relax. Food was in abundance, money easier to fork in, and the temperature was just right.
It was also the time in which Zerfis would hang around him more. Keeping him company throughout the day and acting as his cuddle buddy at night. She was more affectionate, especially due to it being around her breeding season, and Jean milked it for all it's worth. Lavishing her with pets and praise and she, in return, would shower him with kisses, hugs and fur.
As much as he loved his alone time, he loved Zerfis' presence just as much. She kept him grounded, gave him the motivation he needed to get up everyday, and loved him with the same intensity as the bond between mother and kin.
Spring meant that he wasn't alone, and he cherished every moment of it.
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Day 4: Grass Green
(Moblie and not proof read)
The rose spirit wasn't too hard to find.
There, sitting on a mossy rock by the pond, it sat in silence. Back turned to them, it watched the water, seemingly mesmerized by the ripples breaking the water's surface. It's long, ghostly hair draped over its shoulders and back, whipping around lazily in non existent wind.
Dominique urged them all to be quiet and to stay back. He was going to go talk to it while the others stayed put. Andre wanted to protest, sending a silent look of frustration at the man but Dominique wasn't having any of it.
'Stay', he held his palm up and pushed outwards, 'Here'. Andre still wasn't satisfied but the stern look in Dominique's eyes made him reconsider his stubbornness.
With a huff, Andre took a step back, crossing his arms across his chest like a child. Wrong move. A stick snapped beneath his foot and Andre tensed up, a look of alarm flashing across his face. The others tensed up too, Dominique sucking in a breath and throwing Andre a dirty look from which Andre shyed away from.
Dominique hoped that it wouldn't be enough noise to alert the spirit of thier presence. But he knew better. Knew that spirits had hearing like no other creature. It definitely heard them.
He turned his attention back to the rose spirit, starlted but not surprised to find that it was no longer faced away from them. Instead, vibrant, grass green eyes bore into them. Its sclera nothing but darkness that absorbed all the light from around it.
Dominique wished he knew what it was thinking, but those blank eyes held nothing for him to decipher. Only stared at them with strange intent, like it was picking them a part in its head and rearranging the pieces to fit a picture that only it could view.
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Day 8: Lake
(not proof read)
The sun was already low in the in the sky. Casting a soft orange glow over the lake and, although it wasn’t his first choice, the lake was the closest thing to a bath he would get. 
Sticky with sweat and dirt from running around town all day, Iiestr wanted nothing more than to clean up. Uncomfortable with the grime on his clothes as they stuck to his skin, grainy and coated with mud and all sorts of other things that Iiestr would rather not think about.
With dusk steadily approaching, temperatures had dropped and the air was crisp. Which meant, Iiestr thought with a pang of regret, that the water would be even colder. But what could he do? He missed his chance earlier to bath when the sun was still up. Wasting his time hiding from idiots who seemed to have made it their sole purpose to annoy the hell out of Iiestr.
Letting out a small huff, he grumpily got up from his quickly thrown together fire and wandered over to a pile of stacked rocks, occasionally scanning the area for any unwanted onlookers. Once he ensured that he wasn’t being watched, he ducked behind the pile of rock and into the shadows. The rocks were big enough that they’d conceal him from view if anyone from town decided to walk his was way, and were close enough to the water that he could bath without being seen.
He shrugged his pack off of his back and set it to the side. Stripping down, a grimace on his face as dirty cloth peeled off of his arms and legs. Iiestr immediately felt the chill of the late autumn air nipping at his skin. Goosebumps already forming with every piece of clothing he shed until he was shivering from head to toe. I’m going to regret this so much.
He dropped the clothes in the shallows to let the water rinse off some of the dirt, letting them soak until he was ready to wash them properly. And, placing his boots, bow and quiver, and sword on top of the rocks so that they were safe from any water damage, Iiestr breathed a sigh an braced himself.
With a sound of resignation, he hesitantly stepped in to the freezing water- shit its fucking cold. He took a sharp intake of breath from the shock, taking a moment to adjust before pushing past the tremors that racked his body and wading out a little further. Trembling like a leaf, the water reaching his mid section, he splashed water on his face. The icy blast pulling a surprised gasp from his lips, sending a violent jolt through his system as more gooseflesh spread down his spine and back. Fuck, he was going to get sick, wasn’t he?
 He paid no mind to his chattering teeth as he continued to wiped off the dirt and sweat that had accumulated through out the day. Cupping the water in his hands and wetting his upper body as the handfuls ran rivers down his arms and chest. It wasn’t much, nor was the situation preferable, but it would have to do in the mean time.
He should’ve gone to an inn. They would have hot water and actual soap he could use to clean himself and his clothes. Wishful thinking, however, considering he had no money to spare.
By the time the sun had set behind the trees, Iiestr had grown used to the cold and was no longer shaking as much. Just a few occasional tremors racking his body; numb to the chilling breeze that prickled his face and cracked his lips.
 Iiestr was sure his lips were blue by now. If they weren’t he’d be surprised since it literally felt like the cold had seeped into his bone and made itself home there.
Untying the ribbon that kept his hair back, Iiestr held his breath and ducked his head under the water. Submerging himself completely for a few seconds to scrub at his scalp with broken nails and comb through his hair until satisfied. All in all though, despite the fact that he was thumb and could no longer feel his fingers, he had to admit that it was very peaceful. 
No noise, no people, no nothing to disturb him as he held his head under the water. It was a stretch to say that the whole thing was entirely pleasant but Iiestr wasn’t complaining (not anymore, at least).
He dragged his head up, water dripping and falling into his face as he brushed his hair out of the way. All was fine, the quiet of night like a lulling lullaby. Until everything wasn't fine.
A whistle knocked him out of his head, eyes shooting open as he whirled around. Of course. He just had to open his mouth, didn’t he? Anger, and a tad bit of shame, welled up in his chest from being imposed on. The tips of his ears burned red but he was ready to chew out the rude bastard that had intruded on his space.
His eyes locked on all too familiar vermillion and Iiestr felt his heart stop. Fuck. “Uh, Can I help you?” he spat. Voice strained and hoping that the dark would hide the blush rapidly spreading across his face
“No, its fine. Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view.” It was the elf from yesterday. The cheeky fuck was grinning down at him as they languidly sat spread out on the rocks above, shameless as they openly eyed Iiestr with an emotion that Iiestr couldn’t quite place.
Damn. I didn’t even hear him coming. How the fuck did they find me? Iiestr, although his heart raced in his chest, was not impressed with his sudden audience. Not one bit. Luckily, the water was dark and hid most of his body but Iiestr couldn't help but feel exposed under the elf’s piercing gaze.
“Do you mind maybe, fucking off? And leaving me alone?”
Something shifted in the elf’s eyes but their grin remained, laughing loudly as if Iiestr had just told a funny joke. Fucking hilarious. “Nah, I’m good here.”
“It wasn’t a question. Fuck off before I break your arm.” Iiestr warned, not particularly meaning it but he definitely wasn’t opposed to using any kind of force if it meant that the elf would leave.
“Now now, no need to be so violent.” The elf teased and Iiestr felt his annoyance levels rise. “I’m just here to...offer something of interest, shall I say.”
“Not fucking interested. Now piss off before you make me mad.” Iiestr snarled, his little crush can wait. The bastard was really getting on his nerves. 
“Such a vulgar mouth. Do you kiss your mother with that tongue?” 
What?
Like a knife, a pang of hurt, fear, and anger sliced through his heart and suddenly it was hard to breathe.
No. The taunt was just meant to be in jest, Iiestr knew that. Rationalizing that statement, he knew it wasn’t meant to hurt. The bastard wouldn’t have made that comment knowing about his mother.  But still. Fucking still.  A comment like that thrown around so carelessly? He’d make the other pay. But now, he needed to get away. 
He couldn't think straight. Suffocating as an invisible weight crushed his chest. Eyes burning, he could no longer look at the elf. Overwhelmed with emotion, Iiestr turned his back to the elf and swam away. Not caring what the elf thought of his sudden change in behavior. Not caring that he didn't say anything. He didn’t trust himself to say another word. 
Not when the Elf called out from him to come back. Not when he could no longer feel his legs. Not when exhaustion crashed over him and everything went black. He didn't look back.
(Weird ending but whatever, I don't know where I was going with this.)
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Day 6: Flutter
(not proof read)
Jean hated crowds. People were so touchy and just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. He hated them even more when people crowed around performers, creating an impenetrable wall that wouldn’t budge for anyone. Entranced in their fascination that they become selfish and unreasonable, blocking roads and doors for others, shouting and clapping and being so god damn loud when anything happened. 
He stood off to the side, leaning against the wall with crossed arms watching from afar at the top of the stairs leading down into the square where a bunch of elves were putting on a performance. He had to admit, they were pretty good. Bending water into long, thin tendrils that teased the crowd with playful touches; small globes of water that reflected the light and jiggled in their open palms; juggling smaller orbs with such precision and skill that even the most stubborn of people couldn’t help but watch in awe at the display of technique and perfection.
There was one elf in particular that caught Jean’s eye. They weren’t as good as the other three, and made more mistakes, but the way they played with and entertained the chiildren made Jean watch them a little more closely. Their wide, cheerful cheeky grin as they let the children mess with globes of solid water, even starting games of catch and tag among the happy, giggling children. It made Jean’s heart soften a little, seeing the kids having fun and enjoying the water bending.
Jean looked up from the kids and he locked eyes with bright vermillion. Startled at the sudden eye contact from getting caught staring, Jean jumped and automatically curled his lips down in displeasure. The elf didn’t even seem phased, instead, directed one of those blinding smiles Jean, amused. Jean felt his heart flutter and, in a moment of horror, he realised that his interest in the elf was more than just because they were playing with children.
With a humph, Jean glared at the elf before spinning on his heel and left the square. He just hoped that he was quick enough to avoid the elf from seeing the pink on his face, but judging by the way that smile grew a fraction wider, Jean doubted he was safe.
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Day 3: Petals
(Moblie and not proof read)
Jean never saw the appeal behind flowers. They did absolutely nothing other than sit there and look pretty. Hell, some of them didn't even look that nice.
He has come across nightmarish monstrosities to plain looking stems (or something). Flowers that had the softest, most delicate petals to those that had literal spikes that they dubbed as thier most attractive feature.
In Jean's eyes, they served no purpose. However, all that changed once he was introduced to flower tea.
Flower tea uses the finest and freshest petals of the (redacted) plant. Letting them soak in boiling water overnight and allowing thier fragrant nectar, stored in thier bulbous bodies, to bleed out and turn the water a luscious shade of blue.
It was the only tea Jean seemed to tolerate. And it tasted best after a long day of hunting and dealing with unreasonable clients. Curling up on his bed roll, relaxing his tired muscles under the orange glow of the oil lantern, and sipping on the freshly brewed cup made the cold nights of winter even better.
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Day 1: Flowers
              Jean didn’t often lie in open clearings. Especially those that were blanketed in Goldenrod flowers that stretched to the far corners of the area. It felt too exposed, too vulnerable and it put him on edge. He hated waiting. But what could he do? Other than rest on his elbows, watching birds hopping from tree branch to tree branch, and occasionally breathe in the sickly-sweet perfume of the Goldenrods.
              It wasn’t too bad, he supposed. The warm sun bathing his shoulders felt good and the fresh air was more than welcome. But goddammit, why here? Of all places? He had a few choice words for Murtair once the dumbass eventually decided to show up.
             With a sigh, he let his head tilt back. Allowing his eyes to fall closed just for a moment as he tried to ignore the anxiety bubbling up in his chest. He could always ditch him, go back to where he had set up his makeshift tent and sleep the rest of the day away. But he wouldn’t do that, not to Murtair. Murtair was too important to him to pass up such an opportunity.
             A gentle breeze started to pick up, teasing the Goldenrods and tickling their petals until they gave up their last bit of their honey-like pollen. Yellow particles lifted into the wind and Jean opened his eyes just in time to see them dance in the wind. Twirling and twisting, looping around and back again like little ballerinas, sticking to each other and creating clumps that struggled to stay afloat. It was beautiful. Maybe he doesn’t mind this all that much- splat!
             A glob of sticky pollen smacked him square in the face. That was the exact moment Jean decided he didn’t like this at all. Not one fucking bit. He was going to set the whole area on fire, fuck Murtair. He wants revenge. Jean wipes the offending substance off his cheek, disgruntled as his lips curled upwards. Disgusting.
             Deep laughter caught his attention and he looked up, parted his feet, only to see Murtair approaching. Jean sent a glare at Murtair, making a show of dragging his hand through the grass to try and rid it of the pollen. Murtair just laughed harder, as if he wasn’t in trouble, and bent over to tower over Jean (as if the motherfucking already wasn’t doing that normally).
             “Wait long?” Murtair asked, voice rumbling in his chest as he tried to stifle his laughter.
             The audacity. Jean didn’t say anything, choosing to give Murtair a cold glare that Jean hoped got his message across. Whether or not it did, Murtair cheekily grinned down at him, a glint of something in his eyes that Jean couldn’t place. Jean didn’t even have a second to prepare before he was squished by Murtair’s hulking body, air rushing out of his lungs with a wheeze as he tried valiantly to slap the giant who decided that- out of all the open space in the clearing -Jean was a bed he could just fall on without consequence. “You bastard! You’re crushing- “
             Jean wasn’t even allowed to finish his sentence before Murtair decided to smother him his hand, covering his mouth and a good part of his cheeks to shut him up. Jean wasn’t impressed and tried to make it known, thrashing around to try and shove Murtair off him. But Murtair was way heavier, and stronger, than he was so he eventually gave up trying to wrestle the elf off of him. 
            Murtair seemed to take that as a victory because his face literally split into two with how much the idiot was grinning. But Jean wasn’t done yet, Not by a long shot. Instead of trying to displace the heavy man child, he opted for, after a few moments of locking eyes with Murtair’s, biting down hard the rough hand covering his mouth. The bastard.
             That seemed to do the trick. Murtair lurched back and toppled off of Jean. Falling into the flowers and rolling through sticky pollen while clutching his hand to his chest with pathetic whines of agony. It was Jean’s turn to laugh once Murtair realised that his hair, which reached his midback and was thicker than any animal Jean’s ever seen, had been tangled with yellow goop after Murtair rolled around like the dramatic bitch he was.
              He stopped, slowly sat up, and Jean could only laugh even harder as fear, disgust, and mortification all crossed Murtair’s face. Maybe waiting wasn’t so bad after all.
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Day 2: Butterflies
(Written on mobile and not proof read)
Flap flap mother fucker
God, he was going to be sick.
Jean grimaced as his stomach turned in knots, like a cloth rag being rung to its extremities until its fibres frayed. Coiling around his heart and weaving through his ribs, the cloth was strung. And with each twist of the hand, the cloth bound his chest tight; forcing the air out of his lungs and suffocating him. Squeezing bone until it popped under the pressure and Jean groaned at the pain.
He hated this. All of this.
His body buzzed with adrenaline. The pendent curled away safely in his hand was starting to dig points into his palm. The heavy weight a reminder. A promise. Of a bond that it would never let him forget.
Fuck....
His hands, clammy and sweating as hell, were trembling ever so slightly as insides felt like they were being torn to shreds. A flurry of claws and wings scratching, gauging, tearing at flesh in an attempt to escape.
Everything hurt but no sound would come from his mouth. Throat tied with wired that cut skin with every movement of his Adam's apple. Ah shit. Fuck. Fuuuk. This is a fucking nightmare.
Jean could feel his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage. Every thump more painful than the last as his heart strained to keep up.
Whoever said being in love felt like all butterflies and rainbows and giddy excitement should go fuck themselves. The feelings inside him were far from pleasant and he wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.
Jean couldn't stop vibrating even if he tried, muscles too restless, too jumpy to sit still. Figiting with his clothes, picking at skin around his knuckles, digging his nails into his arms. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
All he could do was sit there in a ball on his bed roll. Huddled into his blankets as a wet patch grew near his face. Silently suffering as he waited the long hours for morning to come.
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