A Garden of Flowers and Bones [Lloyd Garmadon x Reader]

Chapter 11: As he creeps along, he sinks his roots

into the cracks, and pulls 'em back
until the structure's coming loose

the stalking saga continues but yknow lloyd is a fae who doesn't really understand human social conventions so following people around is totally acceptable for him

-----------------------

That night, she'd dreamt of sandy blonde hair glistening an array of colours under the light. The warmth of hands cupping her face, the flutter of lashes on her cheeks and skin against skin. She dreamt of fingers intertwining, of breathing under her hands and unravelling until it was unclear where he began and she ended. His velvety ears were brushed by her fingertips, and feathery strands of hair pressed into her palms. She was close enough to count every single one of his freckles, like mapping constellations in the sky.

It was contact she'd never experienced before, so vivid her nerves tingled with the phantom drifting of fingers over her chest and her lips tickled with the sensitive feeling of them having been caressed in some manner. It was so warm that she was sure she'd melt and fall right through into reality, but by some miracle she held onto those threads of sleep uninterrupted.

When she woke up, the contentment and euphoria vanished in an instant. She was greeted by the morning cold and chattering teeth, with her heart vibrating in her chest as if trying to retain warmth. All at once, reality set in and something hollowed its way through her. A place that was one filled became empty and she was greeted with the guilt and doubt and remorse.

She kneeled on the hardwood floor and prayed. It did nothing but remind her of how much rebuking she deserved. How her thoughts had wandered to such depravity in her dreams, while she was helpless to stop it, was beyond her. She'd never had a dream like that before, and she would've wished to keep it that way.

But her kind was repeatedly bombarded with images already fading that she wanted to keep close to the chest, yet also throw away violently and set them on fire. It wasn't right. They weren't married, and that 'man' was FAER.

As she finished getting dressed she allowed herself a moment of reprimand, smacking the sides of her head with the heels of her wrists until she'd received enough of a concussion to hopefully cause minor memory loss. She limped into the hallway, stifling a yawn with her hand.

Something wet hit the top of her head. She froze in place.

And listened.

The house was eerily silent in the early morning. The light from her bedroom seeped in through the open door, cast through the open shutters of the window. There was a chill in the house. But they should've been safe, right? The barrier was up, she'd made sure she put it up.

And yet...

What was above her?

Slowly, she lifted her head. Each second felt like it dragged on for minutes, and each minute dragged into hours. Like dominos crashing into one another, falling uselessly to the way side. The darkness of the hallway threatened to swallow her.

Above her there was... nothing. A black and empty space- a pit that may have extended for miles. There was no movement. But as she squinted, the light caught another drop of liquid before it smacked against her forehead. When her eyes finally adjusted the the vast expanse gaping above her, she found... the ceiling. Wooden planks separating them from the attic. And there, directly before her was a damp spot in the wood.

"Ah."

A leak had been sprung.

She was going to have to fix that. Great.

"... Bugger."

.

.