The Whole Nine Yards

The most beautifully blossomed flowers fell down like butterflies, carried by the soft pillow of the spring breeze. Chatter of passing birds was muted by the chorus of music flooding the square, gentle strings paired with the melodies of a humble wind section.

Above the commotion, a wooden balcony withheld the stunning figure, the crown jewel of Hydrangea Palace - the most esteemed building of White Lily City. Flowing down from the clutches of the roof, colourful cotton flags displayed intricately sewn motifs and characters, dyed in summer greens rather than the usual blues.

In and amongst the crowd, Kael stood proud, jittering with a hint of nervousness. Each move vibrated against the broader shoulders of Nico, whose face may have seemed ordinary, but not to the trained eye. Cracks of concern wilted their way through concealing youth, little divots above the brow and the kisses of where the slope of a nose began. Neither dared to look away, to lower their iron gaze from the events unfolding before them.

Today, it was neither of them that would be taking any centre stage. In this wide canvas, neither would feature amongst intricate brush strokes, inked in oils and pricey paints.

The woman that the crowd waited upon was nothing short of beautiful, a real angel amidst a sea of normalcy. It was difficult to recognise her like this, adorned in laces upon sheer fabrics upon silks, layered in jewels and shells alike. Pink wefts of hair were tucked into a delicate braid, almost sewn across her head alongside various flower buds. Her skin glittered when it caught the radiant sunlight, not like the cold freeze of a vampire, but tantamount to the shine of a princess made of stardust.

He’d never witnessed her like this before, her face almost entirely covered in paintings of virtue and grace, inked in pastels and highlighting vibrance. It was as if the merit and proficiency in her studies had been made visible to the world in a way that everyone could finally understand.

For a commoner, pretending to care about the ascension of a diviner to such an esteemed position was simply unrealistic. Dress that same diviner up in some fancy clothes, throw together some music and a big display and suddenly it's a citywide event.

Afterall, beauty, alongside music and violence were the only real universal languages.

For all they knew and certainly hoped, this would be the only ascension day they would bear witness to.

And it would be a monumental one.

The prodigy before them breathed in shallow depths of doubt and exhaled divination, born with a soul that connected in a way nobody else could. No amount of foolish schemes or dirty tricks managed to taint the heart of the growing child. Nothing could stop her from flourishing, from metamorphosing into something beyond the scope of this city.

Their Daphne would be no more, instead replaced by the immovable High Priestess.

In terms of status and camaraderie, it was unlikely they would ever be level again. Kael and Nico would be better off running to catch her coat tails than chasing a dream of becoming three heroes of prominence together. Not anymore - that was a dream left only to two.

But when her face peered over the edge, her bright eyes lit up, smile as sweet as a sugar coated biscuit. Even if they could only watch from afar, just to catch a glimpse of a beloved friend, somehow it seemed completely worthwhile.

Kael could only hope to die before her reign ended, to be encompassed in her prosperity for all of the years he had left to give.

But it was a dream not to be.

                                                                       ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It all began with a hunch.

Harsh scratching against the grain of wooden fortifications pulled Kael from whatever pitiful rest he’d managed to allow himself to fall into. These nights it appeared as if sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford, one that was snatched from his grasp so long as he reached out to catch it.

He lifted his head, just for a beat.

Nothing.

Each corner of the room had plunged into darkness. Unlike the night prior, the candle at his bedside had long since extinguished into pooling wax.

Then it sounded again. Just a light scratching at first, then a click. Brittle and blunt, it was the metallic kind of click from two pieces of steel, likely from different origins, scraping against each other in an all out brawl. Then the creak of a floorboard, low and hollow enough to miss if you weren’t listening out for it.

A shiver ran its way up one arm to the other, prickling at the peach fuzz that clung on to Kael’s skin.

Am I not allowed to sleep? He sighed, pressing back on his palms as he sat up. The plushness of a bottom lip caught between the bite of his teeth, releasing as the white pressure returned to pink. The tips of his ears twitched in interest, hesitating for just a moment, waiting for the hint of a foe or the scratching to return.

But nothing.

In the face of exhaustion, he almost lowered his head back to its pillow cradle, eager to catch the tailend of the interrupted slumber.

Just as he truly began to consider it, something soft curled around his foot.

Warm and agile. Something akin to the sly curve of a cat.

Kael’s heart had already shattered through the floorboards, tumbling down like a tonne of metal and bulk. Only the frozen husk remained, still and silent in its position upon the bed.

Look under the bed, he begged himself.

But his body refused to listen. It was as if even adrenaline refused him, taking an extended vacation after prolonged overtime. The muffled whistle of a maple tree cut through the tension with its slender tendrils, yearning out for its beloved in the night.

A flash of tinted auburn. A flicker of gold.

“Boo!”

Kael fell back, stumbling over himself and the edge of the bed.

A sly woman snuck out from where she’d hid, a bundle of fur flowing back and forth behind her. Each tail rotated in tandem with another, and Kael lost track at around number five.

If he didn’t know any better, he could be led to believe this was another illusion, or the beginning to a particularly strange dream.

But he did know better. It was easy enough to guess what she was, even through the sluggishness of a poor night's rest and persistence of his unhealed injuries.

Nine tailed fox.

Golden hair wrapped around her frame like a cape, entirely dwarfed by the tall, pointed ears crowning her head. They were poised as if to be entirely uninterested, busy locating the entrance to a den of cowering mice, or perhaps the rooms adjacent. To the fox, human and mouse were about as significant as one another.

“This couldn’t have waited till morning?” Kael coughed in an attempt to feign confidence, masking the quiver that began in his calf.

At the very least, she was amused.

The corners of her lips curved into a smile, scary wide yet absent of any soul. The charcoal pupils under the hoods of her eyes sucked in like a black hole, so wide that the demon ring of crimson was barely visible.

Whatever merry candour she displayed wasn’t authentic: a smile that would never reach those vacant eyes.

“Of course not, you stole from me. I’m here to steal it back,” She almost purred, a stray tail flicking in interest.

“Stole from you?” Kael blinked, long and slow. It was as if the cogs turning away in his head had churned to a halt, driven by a firm wedge lodged between the metal.

If it were the young Alistair hovering in his room, fiery and sweat dripping from his brow, he might understand the claimant. But that would count on the ability of a figment to earn real life and break through the cavern’s crucible.

Unlikely, to say the least.

There was no way he’d ‘stolen’ from this woman, certainly not in this fledgling life. With the confidence of a lion dashing across a tight rope, he was sure that he’d never seen the likes of a nine tailed fox before. He couldn’t even name a person in his lifetime that ever had.

To earn nine tails was no facile task.

Fingers crawled inch by inch closer to the wall, itching to where his sheathed sword rested against the wall. If he could just get a hand on it…

“Yes. You stole. How are you going to repay me?”

Kael spun to distance himself from the stalking fox, using his back to obscure his true intentions behind him.

“I haven’t stolen anything from you,” The sorcerer insisted, resisting the urge to let out a little cheer when his fingers hit the metal casing of his blade.

His window would be short, dangerous enough that if he screwed it up, a second chance may never come again.

With an iron will and one fell swoop, Bloodseek Blade shot up like an arrow, sharp blade edge slicing through the air like a scythe. Crystalline metal shone in the dim moonlight as it flew, closing in on the woman’s torso - enough to stabilise, not enough to kill.

Until a long tail arrived to bat it away.

Blood splattered over wooden boards and silverware alike. Kael’s gaze lowered to his sword, eagerly drinking up the sustenance that crept up its spine.

He waited to feel the impact, to taste the bitterness of the blow - but as his eyes rose, he was pleasantly surprised to discover it wasn’t his own blood that he was confronted with.

Crimson dripped from the cut down the woman’s forearm, bleeding in a slow trickle.

“Huh, Alistair’s old sword. And you cut me with it?”

Nine tails hit the floor in a thud.

“That’s not fair,” Her face drooped into a frown, her mouth folding into a thin line that hid away the sharp jut of her canines. The dark pupils concealed in her eyes never wavered, bellowing down at him as if he’d converted from something comedic to a creature worthy of extermination.

In one long, exaggerated movement, she drew her wounded forearm to her face, eyes flicking to where she bled. Her chest drew together in an inhale, exuding vigor as her tongue slipped from within animalistic jaws.

And licked it up.