Tortoise and Fox [BL]

3.12

"Why do you act as if your worry is nothing more than a burden to me?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Eli caught his journal sprawled out beneath a workbench. Eli, all while remaining on the floor, scooted over beneath the table. He dug through a random pile of scrap, managing to pull out an abandoned pen that had rolled onto the floor.

He spilled out his thoughts onto paper—about his aching arm and neck—his wavering belief in humans—the Church's meddling—about Aisultan.

Without realizing it, the page had turned, and Aisultan's name could be caught interspersed between every written phrase. Eli shut the journal with a relieved sigh; the tumultuous waves in his heart lessened to ebbs and flows.

He stood up with a stretch, the tight ball of emotions winding itself into his arms and legs. Eli knocked on the counters as he paced about, glancing around restlessly. His hands itched to do something—to occupy his mind before it chose to run rampant once more. The glitter of bronze and silver caught his attention like a fly to honey; he grabbed the handful of metals he had set adrift earlier.

An idea sparked within him, igniting his whole body into excitement. He began to start the furnace, tying his hair back messily with one hand as he ran around; preparing the necessary tools and molds.

The fuzzy white ears that Eli couldn't help but imagine the softness of—they seemed to flick around. Amber eyes, sparkling in oranges of the setting sun.

His heart pounded, seizing his body in piercing hesitation. What right did Eli have...to continue asking for Aisultan's friendship? He wasn't sure—he expressed such emotions greatly in his journal. But, he understood that...Aisultan had yet to run away and disappear as the moon shrouded behind darkening clouds.

So until he figured out...if he was allowed to stay by Aisultan's side, he would allow himself to indulge—just for now.

The next few hours passed with Eli distracting himself in every way possible. He failed to continue the project that initially brought him a little solace, instead deigning to bathe, prep his attire for the ball, and reset his overthinking mind.

In his quarters, Eli picked the first set that caught his eye. He twisted the outfit with careful movements, to view the suit from different angles as he pressed it against his body in the mirror.

He knew that Elijah wouldn't mind—it was his act of permittance, a privilege exclusively held by Eli. Since...Eli wouldn't be able to attend a ball that began past midnight. In a forlorn reverie, Eli slipped on the button-up. Frills laced up the long sleeves, to his shoulder. Straight-cut dress pants, black vest, and square, snugly fit jacket with a two-winged tailcoat.

Eli, after adjusting his outfit with a slow, attentive moment, pulled a drawer open. Within, he flipped open a cushioned box that fits into the palm of his hand. Within were silver cuffs in the shape of six petal blossoms. Eli clipped his sleeves with the cuffs, before fiddling with his hair. He tucked it back into a low-styled bun, tying it with a ribbon that matched the ruby of his eyes.

He took a step back, lowering his gloved hands slowly as he gazed at himself in the mirror. Dressed for a special occasion. Dressed under shining lights under hundreds of crimson gaze. The enchanting melody wind instruments. The ebb of the ballroom. Gowns and suits flowed endlessly in a dance that went on until the sun rose.

Eli opened the eyes he unknowingly closed, before reaching a hand out to the steaming sunlight from the crack of the curtain. He only stopped right before touching it, closing it into a fist, and walking down to the first floor of the manor with a turn of his heel.