Into the Depths

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 7: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓢𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver glow upon the waters of Fontaine's lakes. The air was cool and crisp, a soft breeze rustling the trees along the shore. Wriothesley stood by the edge of the water, his mind still tangled with the events of the night. He could feel the pull of something deep inside him—an ache, a longing for a connection that neither he nor Neuvillette could quite put into words.

Neuvillette had been quiet since their moment in the closet. There was a heaviness in the air between them, something unspoken that seemed to weigh on Neuvillette's heart. Wriothesley knew that the Archon needed space to process—he always did, always so composed, so contained—but tonight, there was a different energy. Something restless, something wild.

Wriothesley's gaze shifted toward the water, where Neuvillette stood just beyond the shore, looking out over the expanse of the lake. His profile was silhouetted against the moonlight, but it wasn't just his body that caught Wriothesley's attention. It was something else—the way Neuvillette's posture seemed to change, something almost ethereal, as though he was gathering something deep within himself.

"Neuvillette?" Wriothesley called, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Neuvillette didn't answer, his eyes closed for a moment. Then, with a fluid movement, he stepped into the water.

Wriothesley's breath caught as he watched Neuvillette's body shift. The subtle ripple in the water seemed to carry with it a change—an impossibly graceful transformation that Wriothesley had only heard rumors about. Slowly, Neuvillette's form began to alter, his human shape dissolving into something far grander, more otherworldly. The ripples of the water deepened, shimmering with a light of their own as Neuvillette's body expanded, his limbs becoming powerful and sleek.

In place of the calm, controlled Archon, there was now a creature of legend—Neuvillette in his dragon form.

The transformation was mesmerizing, fluid like a siren rising from the depths of the sea, and yet it was filled with a haunting, almost tragic beauty. His long, scaled body shimmered in the moonlight, his wings unfurling like a great sail, catching the wind as they glided across the water's surface. Neuvillette's eyes glowed faintly beneath the moon, a bright, piercing blue that reflected both the water and the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

Wriothesley stood frozen, his heart racing, captivated by the sight before him. He had always known Neuvillette was more than he appeared—a creature of both immense power and vulnerability. But seeing him like this, so untamed, so undeniably magnificent, was something Wriothesley had never fully imagined.

Neuvillette turned his head to meet Wriothesley's gaze, his eyes soft but filled with an unspoken plea. His voice, though deep and rumbling, carried a note of quiet anguish. "Wriothesley, please," he said, his tone almost a whisper in the wind. "Look away."

The request pierced Wriothesley's heart, as though Neuvillette was pleading for something Wriothesley could neither understand nor control. Neuvillette's dragon form—beautiful, regal, and magnificent—felt like an invitation and a barrier all at once.

But the feeling it stirred within Wriothesley wasn't what he expected. Instead of fear or hesitation, a raw wave of longing flooded through him. He wanted to reach out, to touch Neuvillette, to make him understand that this—this vulnerability, this primal beauty—was a part of him, too.

"I can't look away, Neuvillette," Wriothesley breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "You're... incredible."

Neuvillette's body tensed at the words, his expression faltering. He stepped further into the water, his form slipping beneath the surface, as if the pull of the lake's depths called to him. "No, Wriothesley. You don't understand." There was something fractured in his voice now, something fragile. "This... this is not for you. Not yet."

Before Wriothesley could respond, Neuvillette's wings snapped open, and with a powerful sweep of his tail, he launched himself into the water, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of blue and silver scales.

Wriothesley's heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming at him to follow—to chase after him, to bring him back. He took a step forward, but then, something stopped him. The water was vast, the night was dark, and Neuvillette was gone. His body felt heavy, caught between the ache of wanting to reach him and the uncertainty of whether he even could.

Neuvillette was fleeing. Not in fear, but in a way that was almost instinctual—a creature running back to his domain, his own world, where he could be free of the vulnerability Wriothesley had just witnessed.

Wriothesley stood there, staring at the ripples in the water, his heart twisting as he watched Neuvillette's form disappear into the depths. There was a beauty in his flight, in the way he melted into the water like a creature born of the lake itself. But more than that—Wriothesley felt it: the overwhelming beauty of Neuvillette. His entire being was beautiful. His human form, his dragon form, the way he moved through the world—it was all connected, all him, and Wriothesley could no longer deny it.

"I don't understand, Neuvillette," Wriothesley whispered into the empty night. "But I will. I'll learn. I'll wait for you."

The ripples from Neuvillette's departure were the only sign that he had ever been there, and as Wriothesley stood alone by the shore, the moonlight reflecting off the water, he made a silent vow: No matter how far Neuvillette ran, no matter how deep he hid, Wriothesley would follow. He would fight for the answers, for the truth of what was between them.