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 Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:30 pm
Allegedly, there was a dog-walker. Eles had never met this dog-walker, nor seen this dog-walker, nor heard much about this dog-walker save for the rumor that his name was Thack and he wasn't around that summer. Could've been a ghost or some group attempt at gaslighting, for all Eles knew. For all he cared, too, because the practical result of all this conjecture was that the three dogs — Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner — were getting neglected. And if Eles was going to be Fourth Best Boy, then the first three had better seem perfectly well taken care of or he'd look worse by proxy.
Eles didn't know much about dogs, but with some asking around (and learning that Thack was actually quite exuberant, an utterly effervescent fellow that would have ended up punched had he and Eles met), he'd ascertained where the Dog Paraphernalia were and what the general timeline for care was. That was good enough.
Until he learned the downsides to quietly taking over schipperke care: the b*****d dogs would bark bloody murder if he so much as approached them with the intent to groom, which had elicited some Very Concerned Looks from staff that he was quite certain delighted the little menaces. After a few days, Eles felt that he was the one being exercised all through the halls as he tried to assemble them for things like Bath Time or Outside Time. Really, they only behaved when Malory was around.
On that afternoon, he had all but dragged Malory outside so he might spot bathe Lunch (or maybe this was Dinner — they were so hard to tell apart when they weren't lined up like good little soldiers). Eles had a firm grip on the harness, but just in case, he murmured close to the dog's ear. "Try to escape one more time and you're going in the oven. Schipperke Spätzle."
With a resigned sigh, Eles started scrubbing the mix of mud and paint off the offending dog's paw. They were always trying to step on his everything, and this one in particular decided to try his hand at paw-painting with ultramarine watercolor. As long as he could get the paint out of those puffs, the real groomer could finish the bath. Unfortunately for Eles, they were willful, wriggly little things, so the bath was an exercise in tedium.
Particularly when the dog tried to jump him and planted a wet, blue paw on his face. Unamused, Eles decided he'd hold off for a moment.
"Was thinking. Say I'm something magical. Say I'm Faustite. What then? What do you do?" His pronunciation improved, but his lack of practice was yet evident.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:31 pm
Watching the dynamic between Eles and the best boys shift and change was turning into the best wind down of a show Malory could ask for when he gets home. Running literal circles around the other, the three dogs seemed to get extra joy from herding, training, and generally bullying Eles. There were lines of course, but all four seemed pretty satisfied with his role as Biggest Little Brother, Best Bed, Best Toy, Best Tosser. And so, his quiet monopolization of Best Dad’s time, attention, and hands was forgiven.
Mostly.
Sometimes Eles needed reminding of who were the Most Cutest, Most Smartest, and Funnest Boys in the house. They were even trying to challenge him in the realm of art, it seemed.
“Oh, what an amazing piece of art, Dreary.” The dog froze in his current assassination attempt. Sitting down, ears perked, he waited patiently for what came next. “You should go for a swim. Go get Bunson!” There was an affirmative little bark and then it was off, leaving a trail of blue prints and a relatively intact Eles in its wake.
When the dog was out of sight and a distant splash heard, Malory moved closer to get a better look at the state of Eles’s face. Truly a wonderful piece of work. “If you’re something magical…” he mused.
“Well, I think you are. But if you’re a member of the White Moon…I suppose I’ll have to corrupt you.” He lifted a hand and drummed his fingers on the other’s chest, soaking wet from his best efforts and Dreary’s least. “I think about you turning into half a total stranger and myself half a total stranger in turn, and having to just always stay that way under threat of erasure and it’s just not very fun, right?”
His fingers tripped up until the edge of his manicured thumbnail rested just so at Eles’s chin, “And you’d let me corrupt you, right?” Malory’s voice stayed soft and mild, as if he was asking some small and very easy question with an obvious answer. I look pretty today, right?
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:31 pm
Unburdened by dog, Eles watched with some semblance of relief while Dreary (apparently) shot off into the pool like he had perfect manners. Like he wasn't giving Eles every reason to consider drowning the little scamp and putting him in a pot on the stove. Eles huffed.
Taking up the soaked towel that was originally supposed to dry the dog's paw, Eles shoved his face into it and started rubbing away some of the paint. He paused, then, looking at the spread of ultramarine that now adorned the towel. But before he could fold it in half and continue scrubbing, the touch to his chest drew his attention back to The Boy,
whom he regarded curiously. It was obvious the White Moon — whatever that was —is less preferred. But where Malory saw 'not very fun', Eles thought he probably wasn't giving it the chance it deserved. If everyone was half a stranger, then surely there'd be many ways to have fun at each other's expense. Fake break-ins, stopping by and rearranging all of Malory's stuff in exactly the way he wouldn't want it, all manner of playful little jabs at each other could be in order. But that was an ignorant boy's view into the world of magic, wasn't it?
"Sounds naughty," Eles answered with a pleased smile. Corruption. Like a word meant for the bedroom or someone's tabletop game. Or a name for Malory's next dog. "Sure you haven't done that already?"
Eles looked into Malory's inviting eyes, thoughts distant and dewy. Like he'd just woken, though it had been hours since he got out of bed. "Guess so," he decided, breaking the pensive silence. "Survived this long. What's one more thing?
"And if I'm not a White Moon?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:31 pm
“That’s right,” Malory beamed at him, and leaned over to press a tiny, chaste kiss on the boy’s cheek. It was still flushed and damp from the scrubbing. And it still held a pale trace of blue. Then leaning back, further, further and fully until he was resting on his elbows, he went on, “Start as you mean to go on, after all.”
And if Eles wasn’t the White Moon? “Well, you aren’t part of the Court. We’re small. I’d know. So that would leave the Negaverse and we’re allies of a sort, so you could still know me as Malory and I could still know you as mine.”
He hummed a bit, “But maybe not. An alliance isn’t the same as friendship. When you visited the Mirrorscape…something bad likely happened there at one point. Bad enough to merit a panic attack. Maybe you hate it, or your boss hates it. So what would you do?”
Gazing up at the sky, Malory wondered, “What if you woke up one day to remember you hate me? That you find me utterly loathsome and despicable?” And he found a certain frison of anticipation rather than something as simple as sadness. It wasn’t ideal, and maybe even a little scary, but it would be interesting even so.
In the distance, Dreary emerged from the watery depths of the pool carrying a colorful squeaky toy shaped like a chemistry beaker.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:32 pm
That a smile wanted to spring to his lips for such a small gesture maddened him, so he chewed the inside of his lip in hopes he could tamp it down. Malory should have to do more to earn such expressions.
Unaware of the blue tint he now wore, Eles forsook the towel for the moment. Crossed his legs, his borrowed shorts inching far enough up his thighs to hint at the red runnels underneath. Marks that were still bright, still novel.
Considering the answers, the results sounded fairly cut and dried to that point. If the Dark Mirror Court was out of the question and the White Moon was not very good, then if he had to be anything, he supposed part of the Negaverse was the better option. Perhaps that meant he could make friends with youma, or order them around, or tell that sack of flies to ******** off back to whence it came. Wouldn't that be nice? It sounded nice at the outset, if somewhat spoilt by Malory's caveat. Allies weren't necessarily friends. But weren't they friends? Wasn't this friendship? Pet nonsense aside, he quite liked Malory.
The question Malory posed merited consideration, but Eles couldn't let it stand unchallenged. "Did you read something like that in one of your penny dreadfuls?" Amnesiac man miraculously recovers. Kills wife in fit of loathing. Sentence: hanged by the neck until dead.
It was a difficult ask, however — one that not only weighed his current experiences, but also the potential memories he'd receive. How much could someone change when a separate set of memories is crammed into their heads? Which ones take precedence? How would it influence their thinking? Did that sort of thing break habits? Invalidate friendships?
Eles thought it best to phrase his response in ASL. I'll answer the easiest parts first. Don't give a s**t if my boss hates the Mirrorscape. Just like how he didn't give a s**t if Malory disliked the skin on grapes. Didn't stop Eles from eating them. But if something did happen there, to me, then I don't have to go back. If he wasn't from the Court, then he didn't belong there. But those were easy answers.
I guess… It depends on how much weight I give to those memories. What's happened before doesn't invalidate or supplant everything I experienced to this point. If I woke up despising you, I think that'd be a shock. The reasoning behind it would have to outweigh everything you've done for me. Honestly, doubt you'd have managed that. You don't do anything to piss people off in a way they'd want you dead.
So if I hated you… Drawing a breath, Eles's eyes wandered while he speculated on the ramifications. Suppose I'd pick an argument about it. Yell at you. Break your mirrors. Throw you in a pool. Then leave for a while, cool my head. Come crawling back cuz there's nowhere else to stay and try my damndest to avoid apologizing for any of it.
The squeak-squeak coming from the Wet Dog was such a whirlwind of a tone change that he almost laughed for its absurdity. Beckoning for the toy, he wanted to throw it into the far end of the yard.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:32 pm
Where Eles signed weight and everything you’ve done for me, Malory read love. Because that was generally what things came down to, wasn’t it? Loving something is easy, but it was the question of how much that made one’s choices. But it was true, he had always been careful not to be too horribly offensive when it came to being powered. As a civilian, as Malory Medraut, that wasn’t always the case.
But Malory swam in much safer, shallower waters than Hybris, surrounded by sharks and monsters.
Idly, his fingers toyed with the hem of Eles’s shorts, a gesture tantamount to outright fidgeting as he watched the other boy sign. Those fingers slowed and fell away as his well deserved punishments were listed out, until he was also laughing. Especially once dreary politely dropped the toy in his lap and trotted to the other side of Eles to enthusiastically shake off.
“You want to do all those things, regardless,” Malory chided, voice losing that careful mildness. He didn’t bring up the fact that, if he retrieved those memories, he likely had a wholly other home to stay. Nobody ever said there could be only one.
“If you turn out to be magical. Order or the Negaverse,” Malory finally and truly answered, “...or Faustite. I’ll still love you just as much as I love you. And I’ll protect myself as much as I have to.”
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:32 pm
What the ********> Eles signed, though he couldn't help his reactionary smile. Don't laugh. I'll send you into the pool with your dog. Besides —
But the thought was lost as soon as a flapping of dog ears and a spray of water hosed him down yet again. Eles winced away from it, though he didn't make much of an effort to protect his face. Or any part of him, really. Then he was dripping once again, and all he had to show for it was a well-chewed and well-loved beaker that made Malory's dogs look like mad scientists.
I'm not on fire, so we can mark Faustite off the list. Eles raised the toy overhead, shaking it to get Dreary's attention. He feinted a throw once, then paused, waited to arrest the dog's excitement once again, then a second feint, then threw it as far as he could. Certainly far enough to make his shoulder pop. And if I'm a talking cat, it'd explain why they keep harassing me. Clever bastards, all three.
Pausing, he wrung out the towel of all the collected DogJuice and wet paint, then began scrubbing at his face and exposed arms again. It left all manner of dog hair behind, all quite obvious on pale skin, but he'd rather be damp and furry than dripping.
Tossing the towel, he continued. Humor me. How much do you love me? And how much would you protect yourself? Think you could put me down if you had to? An undertone of mischief brightened his smile.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:33 pm
Eles was truly the Best Tosser, as Best Dad was Worst at it. He mostly just faked, and faked, and faked and then barely threw it all. Sometimes he’d put the toy on a high shelf instead. Best Dad was a little mean, actually.
“People keep saying that…” Malory mused over the concept of Faustite being inherently on fire. And it was very obvious and very convincing. Except that Faustite wasn’t actually made of fire, was he? At least not real fire. The General King was made of magic, and maybe he hadn’t always been.
But what would Malory do to protect himself? What could he do? Not ******** much.
“I love you sooo much,” he answered in a greasy babygirl voice. “Sooo so much.” Malory sat up only to immediately flop down on Eles, which caused the dog shaped torpedo that was honing in on the Best Tosser to slow down and wait his turn. “And if you scared me and bullied me past my delicate little limits? I wouldn’t do anything because I’m not very strong or brave or anything very good except my face, right?” Face to face with Eles he nodded with wide-eyed enthusiasm. “So I’d have to make someone else who was big and strong and scary fall for me, so they could go and beat you up for making me cry. Maybe take an ear or a finger, probably a finger because I’d still love them soo so much. Or…” and the manic, lovey-dovey energy left as suddenly as it had been summoned.
“I hide. Malory is gone, forever, and someone you’ll never know will be busy being horribly beautiful somewhere else in the city.” Peering at Eles through his lashes, Malory was still smiling, “I love you enough to want you as part of this life. But this life only, so don’t ******** it up.” Or maybe, to a certain extent, it’d been ruined by the other boy already, and Malory simply found himself growing more and more comfortable in the resulting mess.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2025 4:33 pm
Falling back with a small oof, Eles was pinned and captive to Malory's spastic little self-impressed monologue. Looking so pleased with himself, and it was a look that infuriatingly suited him, for as much as Eles wanted to utterly ruin that expression. Following along with sarcastic flashes of expression from wonder to fear, Eles wedged the palms of his hands against Malory's ribs. He waited, of course — let The Boy have his time in the spotlight — but he wouldn't wait forever.
He waited just long enough for the cold prickle to descend the back of his skull, the ice-down-the-spine thought of what if he did disappear? but Eles knew better.
Because he wasn't riding backseat on a roller coaster. He wasn't captive in his own body while someone else was at the controls. Eles owned his actions. And he'd made it this far without a ******** memory in his head, hadn't he? So if they did come back, what could a profusion of memories possibly do to him?
It was just the possibility, spoken into being. Like a word of power. Like magic was real. Eles didn't want to worry about it.
Eles didn't want to worry about anything at all. Never again. Craning his head up, he pressed a fleeting whisper of words against the boy's lips, words he liked leaving unspoken. Then he hefted the boy upwards until he could put a dentition-stricken shoulder into Malory's stomach and wrench him into a fireman carry. Standing up roused all the sore in his legs, left him a little unsteady for how top-heavy he was, but he could make it to the edge of the pool.
"Fetch," he told Dreary with authority as he tossed his load of Boy into the deep end.
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