Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 215: Exchange of Words

Thank you to my beta reader, GlassThreads!

Seris Vritra

I rarely slept. As a white core mage with the blood of the Vritra strong in my veins, the needs of the common person were well beyond me. I could forgo the draw of slumber for days on end without negative repercussions, only requiring a mental reset after significant stressors.

But beyond the physiological reasons why I avoided sleep, there was one that superseded them all. When one slept, they were at their weakest. Their most truly vulnerable; where any attempt on their person would be met with nothing but success. I'd slain more than a few of my enemies as they slumbered in their beds, thinking themselves safe from all retribution in their dreams. But a simple drip of poison in their veins as they dreamt would herald the end of all dreams.

And so as I gradually awoke, I found myself momentarily confused and disoriented. I had been... sleeping? My thoughts flowed exceptionally slowly for some reason, which garnered quiet ire in my gut. As far as I could recall, tonight was not supposed to be a night where I slept–I kept to a strict alternating schedule of sleep that would look random and chaotic from the outside, and as far as I was aware, my next date should have been in three days.

The second thing I noticed was the sensation of someone's arm around my body, clutching me and holding me tight. In any other circumstance, my reaction would be violent. I'd tear the offender's arm from their socket for daring to touch a Scythe as she slept, for violating the sanctity of her rest.

But for some reason... for some reason, I didn't do such. My slowly moving thoughts struggled to formulate a reason why I was so.... content.

I finally opened my eyes.

Toren Daen lay beside me in his own stupor of slumber, his head leaning against the back of the chaise lounge in my private rooms. His golden-red hair had escaped its tail, leaving it to splay across the back of the couch like a stream of honey. His breathing was remarkably steady as he slept, both of his arms wrapping me in a protective embrace.

And I remembered.

The events of last night flowed back into my mind as if a dam had broken. Knowledge of the Legacy, of Toren's secret bond. Of another world and all that it contained. I remembered his story of what a world without asura could look like. I remembered what it could bring to humanity.

And I remembered pressing my lips to his, claiming him twice over. The impossibly sweet taste of his flesh and rush of his heart as his pulse raced beneath my hands. How the moment had stretched into infinity as if touched by a dragon's aevum arts.

I needed to move. To get on with the myriad tasks that were part of my duties as Scythe. I needed to appraise the situation with Wolfrum. I had a meeting with the Triunion Council alongside Olfred Warend, and then I needed to shift my plans to account for Toren's revelations. The reality of these anchor points weighed heavily on my mind.

But no matter how much I told myself these things, I could not find the will to move. The room was still dim, and Toren's steady breathing and strong arms made part of me unravel in quiet bliss. I imagined this was what a razor grimalkin felt as they nestled around a fire, their claws retracted. If I weren't careful, I would fall right back to sleep.

You have ruined me, my Spellsong, I thought, not unhappily. Soon, I will forgo all my duties just to feel the warmth of your touch. Nearly a century of precedent was overturned in less than a year.

I sighed, the sound deep and resigned. Then I pushed against Toren's arms, gently extracting myself from him. My movements were careful, recognizing the man's need for slumber. I ran my fingers along the scars on the backs of his hands as I crossed them over his lap.