The Flames in the Horizon

8

When Azriel wakes it's to an uncomfortable kink in his neck and a stiff back. His groggy eyes blink repeatedly to clear any remnants of sleep and a few shadows caress his cheek as if wishing him a good morning. The fire, remarkably, is still burning just as brightly as it had been before he fell asleep. Eris is sitting on the other side of the fire. A skewered-skinned rabbit cooks over the flames. Eris lifts his gaze, sparing Azriel but a glance before his eyes return to the rabbit.

"Good morning," Eris says in an annoyingly chipper mood.

Azriel means to return the greeting but any words he tries to speak turn out to be disgruntled sounds. Eris catches his eye again and the male raises a brow to regard Azriel with a quick distasteful look.

Azriel ignores the judgment in favor of observing Eris in this unusual circumstance. Far from duty or title, they are simply two males sharing a fire. They are two males sharing stories of their shitty lives and pretending there is nothing needed of them.

Azriel cannot seem to stray his eyes, they fall back to the Autumn male every time. He drinks in the way the firelight dances across Eris's face casting shadows that emphasize his angular cheekbones and pale complexion. His hair, unburdened from styling, is refreshingly messy. The ends of his hair at the nape of his neck and the fringe on his forehead is curled gently. Azriel thinks this is the only time he's ever been thankful for a fire, and he is, to be able to glimpse at something beyond the hard exterior of the Son of Autumn and simply see Eris Vanserra.

Clearing his throat, Azriel finally finds his voice. "Morning," he mutters, his voice still husky with sleep.

Eris chuckles softly and his voice carries a melodic quality that captivates Azriel's attention as he speaks. "You talk in your sleep, you know."

Azriel scowls. "I do not."

"You do. You wouldn't shut up about how devastatingly handsome I am." Eris remarks, a teasing lilt to his voice as a smirk tugs at his pink lips.

"You're a horrid liar, it's a wonder you've made it this far in life." Azriel snaps, praying to the Mother that Eris is lying because there is a very good chance Azriel had been saying all that and more. He had dreamt an incredibly interesting ideal last night. Eris did not need to know of it, his knowledge of the dream is the last thing Azriel wants right now.

Eris, seemingly unfazed by Azriel's insultful retort, grins. "Oh, come now, Azriel, it's just a bit of teasing. No need to be so defensive."

Azriel's scowl deepens. "I was most certainly not speaking of you whilst sleeping. You're mistaken, or perhaps you're so pig-headed you simply think everyone is obsessed with you."

Eris raises a brow, something unexplained flaring to life in his eyes. "Oh? I vividly recall you saying something about 'piercing amber eyes that could melt your heart' and 'lips made of sin.'"

A flush creeps up Azriel's neck and face, his eyes widening in embarrassment even as his shadows put him out of his misery and tell him Eris is full of shit. He averts his gaze, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I was speaking of your mother."

Eris chuckles softly as he reaches for the skewered rabbit over the fire. Holding it up, the succulent aroma wafts towards Azriel, making his stomach growl in response. With a playful glint in his eyes Eris gets to his feet and comes around the fire to stand in front of Azriel who remains seated. Eris tears a piece of meat from the rabbit and holds it out to Azriel. The shadowsinger freezes in response. Eris is not offering, but feeding. The male holds it in front of Azriel's mouth and waits expectantly.

"Well, go on. Try it." Eris pushes, a smile on his face that challenges Azriel, and that competitive streak between them sparks to life. Azriel has never been one to back down. This common ground between them, this relation built of power and scathing words, is familiar. He can almost pretend it's just another scheme.