Monster Stories (Melancholic Euphoria's Tumblr Stories)

The Seeker (High Elf Boyfriend) 2

Relationship: Male Monster x GN Reader

Words: 2,211

The Man In The High Tower Part 2

He had disappeared for a week—or that's what you believed. Alone and forgotten, like the many books old and worn.

It was as if his entire existence lapsed into nothingness: a blank slate anyone new could use to replace the old. The only thing that felt so odd about it all was the presence of him he left behind.

He was gone, and with it, your guide lending you a hand along the way.

Your trail back from his secluded garden was looped and drawn out with remembering the route back inside, finding the twisted truth that awaited you once back indoors. The library of books had shuddered and creaked as if all simultaneously being opened, the low groan of the heavy doors slammed behind you, its deafening cry continued for awkwardly through the empty tall walls.

Yet, all you did was sit in your usual chair, waiting for him like a lap dog.

Your dinner appeared before he did whilst you were heavy in thought, yet the promise of his return had disappointed you, leaving your eyes to wander; drawn to the higher shelves you needed access to.

When you returned to bed that same night, there was a dreadful feeling settling in your gut, twisting and growing obvious the more you panicked.

The Seeker was good at hiding, you learnt. And you weren't very good at finding him.

Your days were filled in with lonely training, imagining shadows that eclipsed shelves in dark corners, empty cold spots whenever you would sort through books on their shelves, whispers of your name, clear and drawn, followed by an unexpected breeze, tickling the back of your neck. You thought you would truly go mad if any days would continue, following the same routine day in and night without a glimpse of the man you surprisingly missed.

By the seventh day of his withdrawal, you had found your way to archives, hidden between lonely stacks of large books too big to fit, a pedestal ancient and crumbling, pages upon pages of paper fluttered to the floor in precise disorder.

Someone had been here last. You noted, stepping in closer, too curious for your good.

The book that sat open had no title on the front, its thousands of pages were written in old and no language you could understand. But the one thing you could see were thousands of names, each with a date that took up four columns on each page, reaching to the end and filling impressively.

The last page that was left when you flicked to it was still in need of filling up, dates so foreign to you, they didn't seem of a time you could remember. And the names—all unique and different to the previous, none common you could pronounce if given a chance to speak aloud.

On the last line, the date and name of the final person, eloquently written:

346 AG, Taeral Elsinahl

There was a following flicker of light that encased the back wall of the small corner, taken over by the rumble of books, some falling to the ground as you were running the other way out before you had the chance to see what else would happen.

You rounded the corner to come back out of the maze of books, bumping into something hard, a small oof wheezing out from you, caught in the arms of the strangers. Strange, they seemed familiar. It was only when you blinked out of confusion, taking in their appearance.

"Why is it you're always bumping into things?" The copper-haired man softly drawled.

You spluttered for the right words, stepping out from his arms quickly, "What—where the hell have you been? Where did you go?"