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There's some things in life you simply never expect to see. Not because its a physical impossibility, no -- its more like… it should be one. The topic isn't unfamiliar -- its the root of "unfairness" in every tragedy, as though there's some set of circumstances that would have made the agony all more palatable. An illness, a failing, a wound that would have been better held in the hands of another… anyone, anyone else.
Magic has long since closed the wounds of the flesh, but the mind still bleeds with fresh pain -- every time you close your eyes, the image of the strongest tabaxi you know falling to the floor flashes with a brightness that borders on painful, and Gods, it makes you sick to your stomach. You try to black out the memory -- the furrow in his brow, his ragged breaths, the sickening thud as his body met the wood below… but its so much. Its too much.
None of you came out of this battle unwounded, but its the fear of what -- of who-- you almost lost is more terrifying than any physical mark wrought upon your own body.
The room is tense, and despite the Brownie girl's attempts at raising the spirit of the room, you can't seem to tamp down the panic, the sorrow, that rises within you with each passing second. You don't blame Frost for taking a room to himself for the night -- after what he went through, its his right. And you've been trying to respect that, have been trying to give him the space to process the experience of such a close brush with…
You swallow thickly, tapping out a rhythm against your collarbone in an attempt to calm your nerves. Even thinking the word feels like a bad omen, and so, you push the word from your mind and try to focus on anything, anything else.
Your companions chatter on as the night winds down, the adrenaline slowly dwindling from their veins as they all start to find some semblance of peace despite the tension in the air. Twig is of the first to fall asleep, although its not long before the others begin to drift off too… although pointedly, you choose not to look at Torbek tonight. Its clear that he wasn't himself tonight, but… it hurts to look at him right now. Kremy rolls his dice again and again -- you know he's trying to stay awake, to keep an eye on Torbek… and you appreciate it, you do, but every thud of those dice against the table brings forth that one memory, and…
Its not long before you're pushing yourself to your feet, and quietly making your way up the stairs and towards the room Frost has picked out for himself. You shift your weight on the wooden panels, careful not to let them creak beneath you, as you ascend through the floors. You can't say what drives you forward, what urges you to maintain the stillness of the inn -- all you know is that right now, you need to be with Frost.
When you arrive at the threshold, you're surprised to find that he's left the door open. Still donned in his robes, he sits crosslegged on the floors in meditative thought, his face fully neutral. But as though he's sensed the presence of your mind, he breaks himself from the state when you approach the room, just as always. You knock quietly on the doorframe when he turns to look at you, even if only as a formality.
"…Hey," you offer a small, sardonic sort of smile. Its not disingenuous -- even seeing Frost puts your mind a little more at ease -- but its still hard to lift the corners of your lips, burdened with the weight of the day. "…Can I come in?"
"Of course, always." He pushes himself up off the floor to take up residence on the side of the bed, and he pats the space next to him invitingly.
Needless to say, you all but rush to his side.
You take up the space just inches away from him, and while seeing him felt right, being closer feels better. Its quiet for a few beats as your eyes roam the room -- its a cozy one, befitting of such a dear little woodland inn. There's a particular charm to the handmade doilies that drape over the nightstands, and the embroidered mushrooms and pigs that decorate the walls. A few candles flicker on the nightstand, but the flames don't move quite right -- too still to be natural, you chalk it up to another quirk of the Feywild.
The silence when you were ascending the staircase felt suffocating, but now, there's a sense of… not peace, but it feels organic. Feels like Frost. Still, you can feel his concerned gaze upon you as you sit together.
You sigh. "I'm sorry, I just… it feels like we're a bit beyond asking if you're alright, huh? I just… I don't really know what else to say."
He huffs out a laugh. "Yes, I suppose this isn't a scenario one trains you for." He reaches out, and envelops your hand with his own. "How are you fairing?"
You interlace your digits with his own, and accept the unspoken invitation to lean against him. This is… new. But so was everything else today. His fur bows beneath you, so soft and alive… you've never been so close to him, but in the countless times you've brushed against him in passing, this gentle comfort is one you've taken for granted up until now.
"I'm fine, I just… I'm just worried about you."
"The magic that Twig administered has worked well, if that is your concern."
"No, it's not that, its…" you pause, looking up at him. He meets your gaze then, but even as your eyes meet, its hard to read him. The low candlelight reflects a familiar thoughtfulness in his eyes, but there's something more there… fear? Vulnerability? The feeling, though unidentifiable, is so intense that you can't help but tear your eyes from his own, squeezing his hand one more time before looking down and pressing your cheek into his bicep. You've only known this sensation for a handful of moments, but to think, you might have never known it at all. You don't want this to be the last time you feel him so close.
"We almost lost you," you whisper, "I don't know what we -- what I -- would have done if you didn't get back up, Frost."
"Yes, I…" he swallows thickly, "I am not… I am not unhappy with the life that I have lived."
"Frost--"
"--But before things went dark, there was an element of… regret. Regret that perhaps some things were left unsaid."
There's an ache that burns in your heart at his words, and there's a desire to look up and offer him the comfort you know he needs, but before he can you're being wrapped in his arms, and gently pulled closer. Your face meets his chest, and his muzzle comes to rest atop your head. And for as unreadable as his expression may have been, his body can't help but to betray him as his heart thunders out of his chest, his pulse climbing higher and higher as the seconds pass. Arms immediately come to wrap around his larger form as you do your damndest to bring him some element of relief, and he holds you just a fraction tighter at that motion.
"This is… difficult for me to say," he says, "Please, allow me this."
You nod, and he continues.
"I take comfort in certainty. But matters of the heart, they are-- I have been mulling my words over for a long time, longer than tonight, and nothing has ever felt good enough to express the depth…"
He pauses, taking a deep breath. His pulse thunders beneath you, only slowing a fraction at his attempts to recenter himself. Its so unlike him to hear him stumble over his words like this, but you stay silent, and give him the patience he so desperately needs. A few moments later, he begins again.
"Your companionship has been invaluable to me. The time we have spent together has been some of the fondest memories of my life, and I am beyond thankful that I've been able to know you in the way that I have. So thankful that it feels almost… selfish, to ask for more. Which is perhaps part of why I've stayed silent on the matter, until now."
Is he saying what you think he's saying?
Your name rolls off his tongue in his next breath, and while it sounds just as it always does, this time you're able to spot a certain reverence that comes with it… it isn't new, but perhaps this is just the first time you've heard it for what it really is.
"I understand if you don't feel the same, but this experience tonight has taught me that for as much as our friendship means to me, I need to take this risk. Along the way, I developed feelings for you, of the romantic type. Our time in the Feywild has been short, and it is already proving to be more dangerous than I believe any of us expected…. and I cannot bear the thought of one of us passing without having made my feelings for you known. I care for you, deeply. Perhaps more than a friend should. Again, I understand if--"
"--Frost," you interject, "Neither of us are going to die out here -- I'm not going to let that happen."
You clutch his robes beneath your hands, and he says your name once more, but this time you're the one who pushes forward. You hold him tighter, waves of adoration and grief rolling through you like a tsunami all at once. Tears threaten to spill over at the intensity of it all, but you manage to hold them back as you speak again:
"We can't die, okay? Because there's still so, so much I want to do with you. I want to spend my life with you Frost, my whole life."
The tabaxi stills at your words, as though he wasn't expecting to hear such a declaration. But how could you feel any different? You don't blame him -- how long had you suppressed the depth of your own longing, for fear of rejection? Even still, your affection for him has burned bright for what feels like a lifetime, so bright that you're surprised he'd ever thought otherwise. His arms slowly loosen, hands coming to gently encase your biceps. He coaxes you backwards, releasing his tight hold on you so that you can finally see his face -- his brows are knitted in intense focus, but his eyes swim with unbridled love and vulnerability.
"You feel the same?" He asks.
You smile, and unlike the smile from before, this one is pure joy: "Of course I do."
He smiles back, and Gods, its the happiest you've ever seen him. His whiskers twitch towards you, and his tail finds its way around your ankle -- his hands stay glued to your arms, but its like a dam has broken within him, allowing all the subtle little movements of longing to finally spill forwards after ages of repression.
"Then… may I kiss you?"
"Please."
Lips meet in the middle, and oh, to think you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing this sensation. You fall into each other as sweet and slow as the dripping of honey, savoring each shared breath, each graceful movement. You never want to forget a second of this -- the feeling of his whiskers brushing against you, the gentle pressure of his fangs as you pull apart and reunite, the softness of his paws as his hands come to cradle your face… and if you have it your way, you'll never have to go through the trouble of remembering, because you'll have this for the rest of your life.
Truth be told, you don't know what tomorrow brings -- The Feywild is indeed a dangerous place, and you know in the back of your mind that you've all landed in a world of trouble that is much, much greater than yourselves. But what you do know is that no matter what, you'll fight tooth and nail to share another sunrise, another kiss, with Frost.
…But for now, you're content to share the rest of the night, just like this.