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The rose petals were splashed around octagonal flagstone steps. All colors and varieties of fresh, silken, lovely, strewn aimlessly and standing out like neon against the grays of the deserted city. (He’d made Syrus buy them from Matts shop — or home garden - or some s**t like that. Done it like a silent apology of sorts, as well as a reminder that he was still around in the background watching via others eyes.)

Something like that.

The petals and stone led out the back of the first floor; loose bricks by the side of a cellar section had been shoved outwards, removed, and the space reshaped to be supported with a heavy arched door. After which the pavework of laying a walkway had begun—-

The point of it all wasn’t the petals or stones themselves. It was where the stones met up at the cutting edge of bricks, layered and layered up into a boxed shape — inside of which basalt made up the centerpiece — the basalt layered like a beehive within its spiraled, metal heating basket. There were Himalayan chunks mixed in, large rocks of it sat in the corners, cut into the stone bench for seating— a steel drum basin filled with water sat not far from that. A jutting stone shelf with tinctures and cloths and oils for things…

The door to the structure itself was a dark, fireproofed tarp material, because Waru had debated doors and figured a heavy enough cloth would do just as well once treated, plus no one would burn themselves on it in the process of moving through — opening — closing— etc….

“So, I did some research and as it turns out? A sauna isnt too hard of a thing to build,” least it hadn’t been once he’d gotten got youmas into it—took some work, that. Not that it mattered now, “n supposedly it’s good for healing. Breathing moist air, sweating impurities, all that good s**t— sooooo….” with all the prestige and preening that came of one revealing the workings of a particularly good magic trick, Waru beckoned Faustite on. So what if the petals caught fire and the dirt smoked? It was the one day a year he deserved to bask Eion in all of his love!!

“Happy Valentine’s Day Eion.”

The words said with all affection, white pride, his grin a splay of eager white tic-tacs beckoning applause. He could’ve gotten Eion anything. Forged together something entierly else for the house — a stoneware set — more cast iron. What he really wanted to get the flaming other was a new body, less fire, a set of unburnt lungs. The closest he could manage was this — a tiny ramshackle sauna that he’d cobbled together out back.

So long as it did it’s job?

“You like it, right!? I mean, listen, a saunas absolutely perfect for you! Not just because it’s romantic as ********, but because you’re fire enough that we don’t ever have to worry about running outta coal to light it—“ he was thinking of all the ways it would benefit his boy, his boys loves, the team as a whole. The space of the thing wasn’t grand but it could hold at least three or four decent sized people. If it needed to be bigger they could add to it, make it longer, taller, something other than another small shape blocked out against a desolate background and built up from the fallen remains of masonry in the surrounding area. “— I mean — you do still s**t coal, right?”

Was he teasing? Was that a thing? Had that been a thing?! Waru wasn’t entirely sure, but the thought had existed alongside the one that told him Faustite could at this point put his hand on the rocks while he added the water because his boy ran so hot he could probably make lava outta the entire structure….

"Me and Taenite what?" finding a way him n Ren compared to each other, any at all, would've been a delight, but then he had Faustite in his arms; slight, wan, pyre of a thing. Albite wanted to hold him forever, tuck him into the center of his chest and let him slumber like the lizard Celadonite claimed to be. To have his husband all heat dozing and peaceful, maybe even happily hibernating! Instead of steadily declining towards a statuesque end.....

"No, nevermind--you don't gotta apologize at all. You know how I get restless fa' no reason, this was a good thing to pour my energy into," when he couldn't lounge any longer, when he wasn't worried Faustites next smoky breath would be his last; if he slipped away for a few moments? Gave some commands, got made sure the materials were sourced close enough that he wouldn't have to go far. Turned the feral sorts into eyes and ears and watchers of windows; even if they listened poorly? They liked the treats he offered for quasi-obedience. Could get enough done that he could manage the rest on his own.

"Specially since I get to enjoy this being a real surprise," adorable, his boy call'n him sweet when he thought Faustite was the sweetest thing down there. Like mayan chocolate; sweet with a kick, sweet with some spice! "the kind that we can enjoy together, so, really? You can consider this a gift to us both! Now, last I checked -- n I could be wrong -- but, we heat the rocks somehow: wood, coal, fire, a half youma burning up like a furnace? Tiny little space gets all low humidity n' dry heat, then we splash some water on -- viola, steam! Best part is? With an indefinite source of ******** husband the thing'll never be too cool. Even besterest part? Is that you can relax once it's warmed up." the joy for that, he could have Faustite curled up with him on the little indent of a bench, let him nap while they both enjoy something a bit closer to a temp he'd actually like He hoped it'd do something for the coughing. Everything he'd read about purifying elements, how people had made saunas back in the days before modern technology. Just rocks from lavatubes and sticks and fire..

"What'ya say? Wanna try it out."

"********' Taenite. M'surprised he didn't ask if you s**t diamonds, the stress you were under even before alluv this started up. Maybe he wanted to harvest 'em from you?" Oh, and he was smirking for that. Pressed a laugh that shook him into Faustites hair, it was more than worth it to have him close, teasing. To know that Faustite did in fact *not* s**t coal, as amusing as that would've been! The idea that Taenite so boldly asked made it even moreso. "Mnnh, the leftover bits might be helpful though? Ash and coal -- coal bits -- they've all got uses in the world. N'ything your body makes could be magic at this point...iunno..infused with youmaness..." a shrug of movement to free his boy, watching with a frown for all the coughing and his inability to sooth that away anymore than he had up until this point. He was useless, distracting with trinkets and projects that wasted their time--

It was all born of hope that something, anything at all, might make it just a little bit better. Today. Tomorrow. Something other than the only option that lay barefaced and bold before them. That thing held a full moons worth of teeth, eyes, it was an option that took even as it gave. Albite hated it.

He loved Faustites body though, talking about it and the strangeness of it that was now familiar, the way even the familiar could become new and strange again with just a little bit of insight given from his boy. He'd happily laid there for hours, counting every rung of what had replaced a rib, staring through intricate grate into the fire's reflection on Faustites spine; awestruck for the great and jarring shadows it's flickering cast forth. The way even those tiny motions changed depending on his boys mood, or food intake, or.... There were little sleepy fires of the just woken, tiny emebered sparks in the early morning, great yawning ones that hunted flesh. The raging sorts that consumed his beloveds entire body until he just was---

How many people would he ever meet like this? How would he find Faustite again in the next life if he died *now*. Maybe he could follow him into the Rift when he got tired enough of living, or could convince his husband to stay the way pinkie-pie did up in their ceiling. Give him home and hearth and the kind of energy that would've lured him into wanting to be around even after his mind was gone. Though some of the youma did keep their minds! At least pieces of it. Just not their feelings. That deeper, inexplicable sort of vibrant experience only living gave a person, the thing that made humanity what it was. There was a dissonance of understanding on his end....

He didn't want to lose his lover either of those ways. Hollowed and Hungry and Monstrous. Hollowed and Whole and Human. Albite suddenly wanted an excuse to sweat in order to hide the brim of tears that sat too close to the surface recently. Salty bastards, ever in reach, overrunning his shallow damn. He wasn't going to cry on valentines day godamn it! He could cry when Eion was asleep, water the broiling rocks with all the little stings of feeling that worked him up so easily now.

"Of course," Faustite would never have to ask twice for his companionship, to sidle close enough to shore his beloved up without touching the basket proper. He could still throw his arm over Faustites shoulder and tuck him into the crux of his body, give him a plush bicep to lean his weary head against. "So! I was, what, five -- maybe six? So Maven would've been four -- she's the oldest of my little sisters. Shes, s**t, twenty one now? We're only the two years apart, yeh? N'me, I loved being the older brother, the oldest of just the two of us then," oh, and he could smile for this, for the thought of warm sun, high grass, his mother humming while she swept, "we used to go play down at the docs, round the waterfalls, climb the rocks n jump in. Play in the runoff of -- ******** -- probably all kinds of things we shouldn'tve been playing in, cause we didn't know better? We just wanted to be pirates half the time, but the sort that were like robin hood, not captain sparrow," the good pirates, the ones who eyed the tourists like a lion did a particularly fat ox.

"Sometimes the rain would come in from the sea, and just, it'd wreck the port. We'd play in it during, after, watch everything wash back out cleaner than it came in...Our mother..Sheabell? She used to yell so loud, we'd tease her for sounding like a gull. I was a terrible influence," he could feel the heat rising, the change in the air, the way the moisture of the place wicked away by degrees. He wanted the thing hot enough suddenly that they could set it aside and he could put Faustite in his lap where he belonged, could ladle water over it all easily without moving an inch. "Then one day Maven got sick. M'pretty sure now it was Dysentery? It's more common in Douala, that's the fourth district. Inner city. Kibri's farther out from that -- but that didn't matter, what mattered was that Mave was sick. Worse? I was jealous of her," there she'd been, getting all the attention, all the love. Treats, and special things, and his mother practically to herself because he couldn't be around when the doctors came in. He was messy, wild, loud --

"I was an absolute brat about it, didn't think anything was fair to me. Then one night I caught Shea crying, she never did it in front of us, yanno? She was emotional, yeh, but crying?" he tsk'd softly, knew it was dark enough that till this day she'd deny having been so worried for her child as to have cried. Her children were strong, and so was their mother, and they didn't need her tears when they had her heart. "To say we talked? An understatement, n maybe I started being a better big brother after that, n less selfish for things I shouldn'tve wanted to wish on anyone, not even myself. Especially not for a little extra attention!"

He coudln'tve ever begun to understand a parents love then, a mothers love, death and dying were foreign concepts that equaled nothing more than falling asleep for a very long time. He'd learned better since, was still learning now...

"Actually, I think I know how she felt now? You n me don't even have kids, but I'm tryna imagine if ever we did? It'd be the same as it is with you -- only tenfold -- maybe tenthousandfold. That kind of love for a person, the kind that makes it easy to cry when their hurting even if you do it in the dark."

They had the team, and thank god most of that team was -- adults -- adultlike? The youngest of them was probably Haymitch and once he'd learned that? Oh, he was thankful as ******** for how safe Zuzu was with her vicoius violence to protect her. How he was more thankful, still, that Hayby made sure to avoid danger outright. Smartest little kippn there was; because Albite woudl've rent the world in two and wept a planets worth of rivers if ever anything happened to his sweet bonded, baby boy.

He didn't know anymore what would happen if Faustite left him. He'd thought he could imagine it, could make a scenario up in his head about the worst possible things and then ease himself out of a spiral based on that. He lied to himself and called it 'coping', when it was anything but, because his beloved had already died once, hadn't he? Could it be much worse the second time? A third? A fourth?

Sitting with him now, watching the rocks bake as he talked about the people he missed even though they were a phone call away. He knew it could be..that he'd be inconsolable. That he had to do everything in his power to keep it from happening. Whatever the cost.

"Yeah, lets!" eager agreement because he was more than ready to try and see if his idea would bear fruit. The ladle of water with a long metal handle was close enough in reach, the air around them rippling like a heat wave; he gestured briefly for Faustite to set the thing down before trying to manage two tasks at once -- pull his boy up sideways into his lap, and delicately drip an amount of water over scalding hot stones. It seemed to do the trick, awkward as everything was before he could get himself resettled, to tuck Faustite over his thighs and let him have his chest like he so seemed to enjoy lately. Was it his heartbeat he wanted to listen to? Was it that the meat beneath the softness of a corset was plush and pillowy?

Waru didn't care to question it. Hid away a cough-filled smile for the gush of white, cloudy steam, and the way it battled the acrid, brackish smoke seeping from his boys lungs for territory in the pint-sized room.

"M'not sorry either, if everything up till now's let me be here to love you like this? To be here for our friends, our team," and really there was nothing to be sorry for, Maven had been fine in the end. Medicine existed and it was an easy enough fix, it'd been the distance from proper civilization, the fever that wouldn't go down, some sort of cost? He'd missed those parts as a child, understood them better as an adult how worry could become all consuming even if the problem at hand had readily available answers. Years later he simply took it as a nice little lesson to learn. The importance of family, patience, that waning love (waning attentions) in a moment of strife did not mean an absence of that thing in eternity. Besides, he wouldn'tve changed anything that made him what he was today, that made him who he was right now. "Though, for the record? I think you'd be great with kids. I'd go gray in the first year, maybe even bald pullin' my own dreads out with worry, but you? You might not entirely catch fire n burn the house down every time something went a little bit sideways..."

It was far more fun to think over, to idealize, some distant non-existent future where Faustite had a bunch of scraggly fire'n'soot children like something of a Miyazaki anime: squalling, flaming, youths with dark skin and a demons eyes. With teeth that would never dull, his boys wit, and maybe his own stature? It was the strangest sort of pipe dreams, but nothing Albite didn't already have all the time! Like imagining the soot spiders in the corner coming to life and growing ten times their usual size, or the rat-youma running about the castle, only in massive rat-king balls; angrily tethered together by their own tails.

He dreamt the weirdest ******** s**t ever. At some point though? He'd stopped dreaming of dying. Had stopped dreaming of Faustite dying too. Maybe because it existed as the subject of too many waking hours and daytime happenings. Maybe because his mind didn't want to tear it apart and piece it back together until the thoughts were digestible.

"N'I know you're not dying, Firebrand. Not letting anything take you away from us. Even death itself'll find the task to be hellish, gloomy b*****d thinking it can spook us with this 'like-dying' n 'half-alive' bullshit. <******** the doctors, too...." Waru hummed about it, decisively, found places on Faustite to kiss, to touch, lines yet unbroken by cracked skin and bandaged blisters. Places Eions bangs lay around his temples he could press the growled surety of words into.

"Not literally though, Bloodstone is surprisingly not my type? If anyone can believe that! I--I don't actually know what his type is? Cadavers? Anatomy books? A clean set of scalpels..." though Waru had never seen the man out of uniform so he couldn't say, but he got the distinct impression Bloodstone only tolerated him from spears-distance and insofar as he figured the man knew he couldn't kill him without consequences.

Maybe if he left Bloodstone some wine it'd soften him up? The ******** actually knew.

The first breath of steam caused him to cough, to sigh and breathe all the more deeply for it; vent out old air and shudder in new beneath the broiling comfort of Faustites warmth. He thought of all the things Cela did, how jealous he was initially of the fact that he'd done it. How hurt that he hadn't been personally told! His own gifted subordinate having been allowed to become a youma, been gifted such a tolerance of heat -- been gifted a bit more than that in a few other departments that Waru found fascinating as ******** didn't envy him anymore now. Not after knowing the reason and approving it whole heartedly, and especially not now that he could keep Faustite curled close enough to sweat under; beneath swaths of obscuring steam and thoughts of what hellish nightmares whatever brood they'd share would be. Stunning, powerful, beloved beyond measure by all. It was amusing as ******** to consider.

Maybe in another lifetime? Maybe ten, fifteen, twenty years from now--- right now he was young, wanted his moments, wanted the freedom to ******** up and ******** around. Even as he made a chiding noise for how poor a parent Faustite thought could've been. He totally wanted all of his children to be -- ******** -- as wonderful as Mizuki was. Let'em mention how badass n on fire their parentage was. That they heralded from the highest of stars and most molten parts of the Earth; n then all the other little ******** who would've dared could'ave pissed themselves, nthe ones who didn't would've clearly made good friends!!

They'd have youma playdates, Mau story times, and ---

"Maybe someday, Ei. Right now though? All I really want is you," oh and there were addons to the 'youness', weren't there? "Heh, you n the twenty or so other people either of us drag to bed -- or marry -- orrrr..." his grin was impossible, drunk on joy and too giddy over imagining the unfathomable to hide. Not that he'd ever have to bother with Faustite, who'd love him if he grew three heads or tossed out the most insane of ideas.

Faustite always seemed to get him..

"Hmmn? Mnnh, parts of people maybe?" talking about bloodstone was a riot, he didn't know what a Lucida Blackletter was, or who, or -- maybe they ******** letter openers n loved canned meat? Who the hell was he to say. "Slides of people under magnifyingscopes---" laughing easily before he was struck by the awe of Faustites fiddling. The subtle little twists of his boy in his lap and the production Albite had eyed half-sleepily, sort of awake, with just the one eye cracked open.

He'd nearly forgotten about the pen holder from Christmas!! It was prettier now, his eyes widened for marveling it; shifting subtly to admire the complex looking pen of a thing.

"Nothings weird when it comes to you, Firebrand. S'just another little miracle. Your bodies all clever tricks n good s**t--" Albite felt the chuckle, purred back and squeezes Faustite just a bit tighter in his arms, ogling lover and sparkly bauble both. "I love it."

I love you.

"Now what's it supposed to do again? Looks badass!"

It was an easy place to be, cloistered in a small dark space of their own, surrounded by warm air and warmer flesh. It was a safe lie of a cocoon, time away from it all, and Albite treasured every second of it. Felt Faustites breathing even into something that didn’t tear at the very fabric of his thready soul. He shifted just enough, a roll of a shoulder that let him dribble more water until it plumed up in a flash of white, steamy air.

“Course you can Firebrand, you know I’d let you,” cooed soft and jovial as though the threat were the cutest utterance he’d ever heard. It would’ve been a lie to say he didn’t like Faustites violence, that it didn’t thrill him to this day to hear it spoken - in jest or otherwise - his loyal, loving, flaming halberd of a husband. Hardly the energy to hold a pen this man, but still energy enough to spit acid-tipped death threats up at the stars….

Albite would very carefully not think about how weak Faustite sometimes was. About the lethargy that clung beyond the surface, he didn’t panic when it took longer and longer to rouse his love up. He’d always wanted this, hadn’t he? Enough time in the world to just cuddle all still and cozy like.

The world was giving him plenty of his wants—-

“Though I don’t think I’ll ever be bringing her into our bed.” There was a laugh for that, an easy breath, as the clawed hand that trailed up along the bone of his cheek got kissed sloppily; the knuckle of an index, a thumb, a palm. Flutters of lips pressing love to blackened and peeling skin. He couldn’t help but find it humorous, the idea of Nectaris in their home as she was now. As they were now. No. He’d not be dragging her into any bed that wasn’t meant for sleepovers — and even then? It was likely he’d not be taking Nectaris into any bed at all — the feel of falling out was some terribly fresh thing. A crumpled pink heart laden with smeared glitter and sharp ink, all stuffed into some subspace pocket. Waiting for him. Like a knife with the sharp end turned up, pointing to the sky m. He’d reach for it again someday and cut himself on it, he knew, slice himself open wide all those fresh feelings.

It was all such a mess— he shook the thought of it off and breathed it away. Enjoyed the quiet the steam seemed to let settle atop his worried mind. Rolled his eyes for the talk of all things medical—

“M’nn all your doctors are ******** is what, like maybe their the actual worst people—err—maybe just clinical? Yeah, that…” it might’ve been that Albite simply didn’t deal well with the clinical, cold, callus side of things he liked bedside manners. Needed them, really. Except in the few rare cases where blunt honesty was best — didn’t mean he handled it well no matter how good the delivery of it all was.

“You should sign promotions with it— Hell, see if that fancy bit’ll let you return Nectarines sucker-punch sticky notes. S’not fair knights get such cool s**t…or-or-oooh, I’ve been meaning to work on a new tat design! It’d sure as ******** mean more to see it etched out by you. To get it etched on me, even.” On paper, on flesh, in more of Faustites preciously bound journals, and it was a whole idea Albite could get behind! He liked the imagery, he was greedy to have his way and let in all things *his*, to be beneath the skin of them. To share himself so deeply he was conjoined with it all sharing blood, breath, preciously scarce heartbeats.

He had so many thoughts—-

“M’glad the air’s helping some,” and he did move to brace Faustite better than he was, to support his beloveds need to fidget with the pen cored with coal of his own making. It was the least he could do— it was everything he wanted, back then, right now. The chance to be useful; a table, a chair, a pen holder, a husband — loved, and loved and loved. Whatever let him stay close a little while more, to cling without seeming overbearing.

It’d taken him too many weeks after getting the fire-opal collar to realize that Faustite, starved for touch as Waru was a glutton for it, was the starfish who loved most to cling and be clung to. It’d been so jarring at first, to go from begging for touches he knew would burn, that he didn’t care about being burnt by, to receiving them with such casualness.

It meant he would bring Faustite back here often as he asked. Carry him over the flagstone threshold and tell him how much he deserved to be pampered for the day — even more so because he loved pampering him.

There was the smoke that decorated Eion's veins, the constellation circling his loves knee in swirls of burnished-molten-gold and uncounted specks of consumed souls -- Waru meant to count them all sometime, but always fell asleep before he reached the end of them. Not too hard a feat, counting was an exhaustion in and of itself, especially the soul-rending kind, and Eion seemed too ticklish for him to want to spend too much time tracing the little connecting lines theirin properly; whether his boy was draped in human flesh, clothed as a youma, he was still sensitive to some things. So Waru hardly wanted to spend the time doing it now, just in case it'd wake him.

Faustite needed as much sleep as he could get. He was dying deserved some peace. The sort that ran on undisturbed, how he believed Eion coughed less while unconscious, at least till he coughed himself awake. There were moments in between that made him hope it'd last though.

"You mean it? I've always liked the way you write, n I've seen that you can draw," the smile for that, small, petal soft thing. He looked back at Eion with all the adoration he could muster, the sparkle of glee for being given approval for so silly a want when compared to the severity of all else going on around them. Then he thought of Ren's bands easily, those few thick, simple, clean lines. Bold identifiers considering how concerned the man was about keeping himself to himself, being all wound up in his web of webs. Waru had always liked that style though, heard it called Haida, heard it called tribal. In the west the Adinkra'd had something like it -- course it was all paired down to textiles n tourists now, but?

"It's gonna be a bigger piece," hummed as he turned his palm over beneath Faustites claws, wiggled his finger's playful like, the size difference gave him endless joy. To be able to hold all of Faustite in his palm -- to let Ei' scratch out coal lines over it till he could put an idea of a hazy image into words. What did he want, exactly? Answered that one ask with another, because what lived in the mouth of a monster? Those most precious to it, like it's young. Animals were base: teeth, claws, wild eyes. Waru wanted that, hadn't settled on insectoid, shark-like, or anything in between. Thought of Galavorn in the Forge, all the ghosts that haunted it. Thought even more of the scaled ever-changing chameleon of a beast in the Scar. He liked Radon, insane as that seemed to like such a beast. He envied the creatures nature, able to adapt to all things at all times. So ******** scary that even the other denizens of the Rift knew better n to ******** with it -- what better protection existed than that? Mandibles, pincers, chitin, wings --- of course a mind to go behind it -- though Waru'd never figured out if the thing spoke, but hey! It'd outsmarted alluv them left, right, n center so it had to be intelligent!

Knew he had softened some of his lines over time though, those that danced his arms and up over his shoulders were far less sharp around the edges than when he'd begun the journey of seeing them put there. A whole half of one side covered, fingertip to hip, and mostly the same on the other because something about the way he thought asymmetrical patterns looked on a body. His back would have to be different though, all one piece, a face of protection but older than that.

"I've been meaning to get my back done. The whole of it. Not blocked out completely, cause I like thick lines, but I also like negative space in things -- chaos in space -- looks like a lot packed together, busy, but then when you stretch it out?" and he knew he had swaths of thick black lines, entire sections inked, spilled meaningful nonsense around them, little zags, triangular peaks, chained circles. "There is this symbol though, hye won hye -- dunno how to say if it looks like those wrought-iron fence toppers, or a pair of big cursive E's squished together?"

Was it like a butterfly? Yes, but also not in the slightest.

"Want it tucked away inside of that -- the face of it maybe? Think it'd make interesting eyes at least," mostly he liked the meaning behind it; 'that which does not burn'. Thought it appropriate to paint on his back when he considered the people who came after him with fire -- people he'd loved --the hurts he'd allowed to happen. The fire he'd married himself to, the one person who could do him no harm. Waru liked it the same way he liked the how mate masie meant 'what I hear, I keep'; inked chains of ears meant for hearing into a row on a bicep, because he spoke so damn much that surely if he bade himself to listen more often he'd retain something! If he had it etched onto the back of his own hand he'd remember to do these things!

To talk less and listen more, but never stop sharing. Sometimes a visual reminder was what it took...

"I'd take just the eyes to start, since the rest is a mess in my head. That though? The symbols solid. Could have it put other places too..." an easy breath, flinch of muscle beneath the skin hinting at the want of a shrug, he wanted to keep Eion right where he was even more though, undisturbed as could be. Met Eions gaze and asked the mans opinion with looks alone, he always wanted what was on his boys mind. Missed the easy way he spoke before, unbroken by smoke scratched ********, but he wanted him better......