Chapter Text
“Well, well, well… It’s Master Illuga.”
“What an ominous greeting.” Illuga set a heavy box down on Flins’ table with a grunt. He had brought supplies and reports to the lighthouse, just as he always did.
Seated on the metal bench, Flins watched Illuga unpack his bounty. His eyes crinkled with amusement—at what, Illuga couldn’t even begin to guess. He never could, really.
The spring sun lay halfway between the ocean’s horizon and the top of the world, just exactly low enough to sneak past the dilapidated awning overhead. Illuga could not turn his head lest he be blinded by the sun. He glanced at Flins, only to belatedly notice that the sunshine reflected in his eyes and turned them into pools of gold. Not only that; the buckles and clasps of his coat shone subtly, and his dark hair was somewhat mellowed by the lighting. It was beautiful, but quite foreign. Ah, this was the worst. And not just because Flins’ mouth twitched into a coy smile when he noticed the eyes upon him.
“I found an extra deck of cards tucked in a supply shed, so I brought it for you,” Illuga said immediately. He tossed the deck upon the surface of the table. “There any card games rattling around in your head that you can teach me?”
Flins chuckled. “Why, certainly. In due time, of course. It’s been a while, so my memories will need a moment to resurface.”
“Of card games…?” Illuga rummaged through his supplies box. “Alright. Oh, here.”
He lifted out a heavy, overstuffed album and walked around the table to offer it to his companion. An Illuga-shaped shadow cast itself over Flins’ seated frame. The deep lustre of his hair was restored and the world felt balanced once more.
“What’s this, young master?”
“A photo album. Check this out.” Illuga cracked open the crinkling pages and circled a photograph with his gloved finger. “It’s you and the old man. How old is this, even? He looks about seventy years younger.”
Flins laughed—louder, this time—and peered at the photo with interest. Illuga found most of the odd curiosities hidden in Piramida while cleaning and organizing supply closets, and he found himself bringing them out to the cemetery to show Flins more often than not. This album was one such example; a dusty book, falling apart at the spine and entirely faded with age, shoved to the back of a bookshelf in an old office at some point years ago. Illuga had only started flipping through it with an idle curiosity, but he quickly found pictures of Nikita sprinkled through the pages. And a thorough examination revealed one photo of Nikita and Flins, standing together stoically with their weapons presented quite proudly to the kamera. It was honestly hilarious. Illuga couldn’t tell which of them had suggested the pose. And, of course, though it had likely been taken before Nikita had even become Starshyna, Flins looked not a day younger than he appeared now. But such things remained unsaid between the pair under the lighthouse’s awning.
“I might feel inclined to tell you the story if you sit beside me, Illuga,” Flins finally declared once he finished dissecting the photograph’s contents. His eyes sparkled with some sort of joy.
“I’m not finished unpacking your box.”
“So… I take it you aren’t interested, then.”
“I didn’t quite go that far,” Illuga sighed. Flins took the heavy album from him and he sat on the bench. Immediately, his eyes were accosted by the sunlight.
Flins gallantly lifted a hand and held it before Illuga’s face.
“Hm?” Illuga turned to look at him, surprised, but his expression was beguiling as ever.
“Don’t move, Master Illuga,” Flins purred. “The sun is bright today. You might wake up.”
“Beg your pardon?”
—
Illuga had failed to properly close his east-facing curtain before he fell asleep, late the night before. He groaned as he awoke, wincing as a vertical strip of sunlight pierced his groggy vision.
Feeling grumpy, he rolled over and stared at the wall, slowly blinking. He hadn’t dreamt a normal dream in what felt like years… To be fair, it had been even longer since he had slept through an entire night.
Could that be called a normal dream, though? Illuga pressed his hands over his eyes and sighed. Of all the people to visit his subconscious.
It was true that Illuga had uncovered a forgotten old photo album yesterday. True, too, that he planned to show it to Flins the next time he visited the cemetery. And if he had a deck of cards tucked in the pocket of his coat that he was saving for the very same excursion, then so what?
He just never thought himself much of a dreamer. Even as a child, Illuga was never one to get caught up in his imagination. He favoured the real world with its day-to-day occurrences, and, besides—he didn’t often have the luxury to simply sit back and think awhile.
Despite this, Illuga’s mind was unusually active as he went about his day. He knew he’d like to visit Flins the day after next, so there was much to be done for Piramida and the surrounding areas in preparation for a day’s absence.
“Captain Illuga!” a Ratnik called out. Startled, Illuga dropped a tall pile of reports on the floor.
“Oh! Oh, goodness, are you alright?! You were just standing in the middle of the hallway, so I thought…”
Illuga knelt, frowning. “I’m so sorry. I’m okay, really, I…”
Later, Nikita managed to sneak up on him in the mead hall and administer a clap on his shoulder so resounding that Illuga nearly choked. He glared up at the old man, tears in his eyes.
“Not paying attention, my boy?!” Nikita guffawed. Several neighbouring Ratniki laughed.
“Yeah, no… Apparently not…” Illuga muttered darkly into his mug, staring forward. No matter how he tried, he could not rein in his thoughts. He had been thinking of evil, dangerous things the entire day. He had been envisioning a certain Lightkeeper, the very one who showed up in his dream the night prior. He had been recalling their conversations, the way that man laughed and smiled at him, and the warmth that emanated from his body whenever they sat side by side. He had been hoping, very much in vain, that the day after next might arrive sooner.
—
“Alright, then. Tell me the story. I’m here.”
“And what a delight that is.” Flins took up Illuga’s hand and delicately kissed his knuckles.
“What do you think you’re doing, sir?” Illuga pulled his hand away, eyebrows raised incredulously.
Flins shrugged. “Merely expressing myself.”
—
Illuga awoke with a gasp, soon realizing that his right hand was clenched tightly in his left.
For the entire day that followed, the top of his hand tingled, as if lips really had grazed the skin.
—
“I’ll stand over here,” Illuga said firmly. “And you can explain that photograph. Finally.”
“All the way over there?” Flins’ voice held that infuriating trace of amusement that Illuga secretly loved. “I can hardly see you.”
Flins remained seated on his metal bench, posture perfect and noblemanly as always. He craned his neck to keep his catlike gaze on Illuga, who crouched behind a crumbling headstone several metres away.
“You couldn’t stay focused, so you had this coming.” Illuga pointed to the album that now lay on the table. “I mean, if you’ve forgotten, then that’s fine. Clearly, you’re an old man, just like my pops. Can’t avoid a lapse in memory here and there, hm?”
He was only joking, attempting to goad his companion into spilling the story behind the photograph—which honestly didn’t even seem to matter anymore, but that was besides the point—Flins, however, was on his feet in an instant. He towered over Illuga, regal hair spilling off his shoulders, and crossed his arms.
“That’s a dangerous game, young master,” he said softly. Illuga swallowed. “I think you’d find it most unfortunate to learn just how old I am. To understand how many years separate us.”
“Trying to scare me?” Illuga tugged on the silver strap that hung from Flins’ waist, staring up at him solemnly. “I’m not so young myself. You treat me like I’m naive, but I think you’d find—”
“I treat you in no such way.”
“Liar.”
“I do not lie.” Flins’ grave voice echoed in Illuga’s head like the call of a gull.
…
What?
—
A particularly obnoxious gull perched outside Illuga’s window and shrieked. With an uncomfortable jolt, Illuga woke up.
Today was his day off, which meant that he could take the journey to visit Flins at his lighthouse. Maybe seeing the man in person would put an end to the ridiculous recurring dream he was having.
While packing the supplies he intended to bring for Flins, Illuga nearly decided against including the photo album, but ultimately tossed it in. His dreams may have been a little perverted lately, but the Flins of reality had never acted that strangely towards him. They would be able to have a normal conversation today.
The journey to the cemetery passed smoothly. As soon as Illuga’s boots landed in the shore’s sand, he watched Flins emerge from behind the ruins of a building and pick his way down to the boat.
“Was your journey safe, Master Illuga?” Flins asked as he hauled the boat onto dry land and hefted Illuga’s box into his arms.
Illuga reached for the box, but was denied. “Safe as always. It’s unusual for you to meet me at the shore, don’t you think, sir?”
“Well, I missed your presence,” Flins confessed with wide, innocent eyes. They began the short trek to the lighthouse. The day was overcast but not unpleasant, and the breeze carried just the faintest hint of spring’s warmth. It was a lovely day to relax.
“Oh.” Illuga stared straight ahead, ears red, and nearly tripped over a headstone. To save face, he added, “Then, you’ll be ecstatic to see what I’ve brought for you.”
“Oh, my. I can’t wait.”
As Illuga cracked open the box, Flins hovered at his side like a shadow. He reacted with delight at each item that emerged, showing special gratitude for the deck of cards and insisting that they play as soon as possible.
“And the last thing is this,” Illuga said, lifting out the wretched photo album. It looked just as it did in his dreams. He carefully thumbed through the stuffed pages and landed on the photo of Flins and Nikita within seconds. “Remember anything about this?”
Flins laughed upon seeing the photograph. “How nostalgic.”
“Yeah? How long ago was this taken?”
“Surely you aren’t interrogating me.” Flins tilted his head.
“Mm… No…”
He laughed again. “Long enough ago that I had entirely forgotten. Our weapons match, there, see? We purchased them in Nasha Town from a travelling duo—a blacksmith and a saleswoman—and embarked on a heroic warpath all the way back to Piramida. Oh, we must have dealt a good, resounding blow to the Wild Hunt that day.”
A surprisingly heartwarming story. “What happened to the weapons?”
“Hmm…” Flins slowly closed the album and held it to his chest, closing his eyes in thought. “I believe I stored mine somewhere in the lighthouse. I’m afraid I couldn’t say where, Master Illuga, but I would be happy to rummage around if you wish as much.”
“No, no, that’s alright. I was just curious.”
After that, they sat in their regular places on the bench, and Illuga sipped from a metal cup of water that Flins belatedly poured for him. He would have to leave sometime in the next few hours if he wished to arrive at Piramida before sunset, and he had not the faintest inkling of when he might next be able to visit the cemetery, but those logistics ebbed away into the corners of his mind as he gazed out across the quiet island. For now, he only wanted to spend time with Flins.
“How are you sleeping, Illuga?” Flins asked suddenly. The startling break from silence sent a shudder through Illuga’s hands.
“Me? Sleep?” he asked weakly.
Flins tapped Illuga’s forehead gently with the knuckle of his forefinger. “Last time we spoke, you mentioned nightmares. I would assume such afflictions don’t disappear in the span of a few days, but perhaps you might surprise me with good news.”
Illuga had forgotten about that little slip. Last time they spoke, he had imbibed—it had been a gathering for the Ratniki—and in a bout of bad judgement confessed to Flins that he experienced nightmares regularly. Strangely enough, he had not been plagued by the usual terrors since that rather foolish conversation. Instead, it was all dreams of this exact day. Better—much better—but still strange.
“My nightmares… are subsiding somewhat,” Illuga said, shifting uncomfortably under his companion’s sincere gaze. “Did you have a hand in that? Are you a benevolent dream spirit, Flins?”
“Ah, if only,” Flins said. He lightly dragged his knuckle down to Illuga’s lips and lingered for a beat before letting his hand drop. “I would have entered your dreams long, long ago were that the case. And I would have cured your nightmares for good.”
“You would’ve entered my dreams? What, to toy with me?” Illuga shook his head, displeased at the thought. There were times when he really did feel like the mouse to Flins’ cat. He’d prefer if they were both cats… Or maybe, both mice, as long as he could simply stand on equal footing with Flins…
Flins looked at him quietly for a few seconds, eyes so piercing that Illuga turned his head away.
“I don’t mean to toy with you,” Flins murmured, finally, “I never do. I only wish for your happiness.”
Illuga had no good response for that, too focused on hiding his warm cheeks with his hands. He only felt warmer as Flins slowly leaned closer, hesitantly, venturing at last to touch their shoulders together. Illuga allowed it. Of course he did.