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Description

Featuring Dearg & Naykhornn

Silverthorne, Year 757 of the New Age

The first time they meet, it's a dark and cold day - the exact kind no fawnling wants to be caught in, least of all the ones with fire in their blood.

They're out near the mountains, where the temperatures are frigid and far less hospitable than the warmer inlands of Silverthorne. To Dearg, the other stag is a vaguely familiar face - one he has seen around the herd on occasion, and even sparred against during trainings once or twice. However they never spoke, and it isn't till now - when Dearg catches sight of the blurred shape of the other soldier's distinctive rack in the distance - that it occurs to him that he doesn't even know the darker fawnling's name.

As the other stag draws closer, Dearg turns to face him fully, letting out a bellow to help the other stag find him in the steadily heavier snow storm. As the stag approaches slowly, sluggishly, Dearg pulls up a cheerful grin and pricks his ears.

"Lovely weather we're having!"

The look the other stag shoots him is dry and baleful, however a small smile does twitch up the corner of his mouth once he draws close enough. "Quite. Are we the only ones left on patrol out here?" He asks with a frown, looking displeased at the thought.

Dearg grimaces and shrugs slightly, glancing off to the side at the now almost solid curtain of snow falling. "Dunno. And there's no way in heck we're separating to go look." He says, finality in his tone. At this point, if the each try to set off on their own - whether to find the others, or to get back to the mainland, it'd be a fool's errand and one bound to end in injury if not death.

The darker stag sighs and droops slightly before nodding slightly in acquiescence. "Then I suggest we find shelter and wait out the storm. The weather has been erratic, but it should blow over by morning."

Letting out a grunt of agreement, Dearg inclines his head and the two set off slowly, their bodies drifting closer in the subconscious search for warmth as they press on.

+

Later, the storm has let up substantially, however the chill in the air is still one the stags are unaccustomed to. As such, they have ended up in an awkward arrangement of bodies and limbs - one most stags would never usually abide by willingly.

Dearg huffs out a soft breath from where he is lying, his side pressed up against the other stag. It is a supremely strange feeling, a mixture of the familiar comfort of the warm press of a body, mixed with the most assuredly unusual large size of the said body.

The red stag stares out into the snow, a tension at his jaw as he studiously ignores his companion while simultaneously shifting closer whenever a cool breeze whips past. It is when he feels a heavy weight settle down upon his back that he flinches and tenses further, glancing down at the other stag who he still doesn't know the name of.

"I think it's kind of sad that is is probably the closest I've ever been to anyone - does included." He says dryly in an attempt to lighten the situation and take their minds off matters. He can feel the weight of the other soldier's gaze on him, but when the other stag says nothing in response, he sighs even heavier and shifts uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid you're not my first. I have a son." The lazy, tiredly amused reply startles a laugh out of Dearg, and he turns to look at his companion with a raised eyebrow. "That so? Didn't have you pegged as the daddy sort." He said, smirking, however the grin is wiped off his face as the other stag stares at him cooly and replies with a,

"Didn't have you pegged as the cuddling up to strange stags in the snow sort either."

Dearg flushes, mortified, and rolls his eyes and they both fall silent, neither really willing to break the relative silence of the moment.

"Naykhornn."

Dearg startles and glances back at the stag with the cool eyes, frowning slightly. "What was that?"

"Naykhornn. My name."

Dearg frowns slightly, considering it, before nodding slowly. "Dearg."

The two fall silent once more, and Naykhornn once again curls in closer to the larger stag. This time, Dearg allows himself to relax into the warmth of the other stag, though he still keeps his face turned pointedly away. After a moment, he finally speaks up, voice resigned and amused and gruff.

"You know, Nayk. You seem like a cool guy, honest. But this is way out of my comfort zone, and I can barely bring myself to look you in the eye. So don't take this the wrong way, but we can never ever talk after this. Ever."

The spidery stag raises an eyebrow of his own, finally letting out a huff. "We are caught in a snowstorm, and the thing you are worried about is your image. Stag, you have issues."

Dearg smirked and rolled his eyes over to look wryly at Naykhornn for the first time since they had laid down all those hours ago.

"So I've been told."

+

When the snow finally lets up later, the two uncurl themselves out of the tight ball they had somehow wound themselves into over the course of the night, and wordlessly make their way down the mountain paths to head back towards the main capital. The journey is a long one, but silent - Dearg unwilling to acknowledge the other, and Naykhornn not really caring much either way. When they finally reach the Silver Vale, the two part ways with no more than a glance, and that is the last Naykhornn ever expects to see of Dearg.

+

Indeed, for the next few months, the red stag is absent from all of Naykhornn's patrols and trainings. At first he assumes that Dearg is far better at hiding than he had thought possible, but then he hears rumours of how the other stag apparently was discharged honourably from the soldier ranks in order to become a firebringer.

Naykhornn frowns slightly, consideringly, but then puts it out of his mind. After all, he hadn't expected to interact with the other stag again, and so there is no reason to be put out that the other stag is, after all, gone.

+

Two seasons later, it is summer, and Naykhornn is standing guard by the mountain pass - though nowhere near as high up this time, he's learnt his lesson. The patrol is a long and boring one, the nearest other soldier stationed a good 10 minutes or so away. The spider stag looks around with half lidded eyes, trying to find something to amuse himself with.

And he finds himself locking gazes with another stag, one that is strangely familiar. It takes a moment to place the stag's face, however once he does he is surprised. Dearg.

The red stag blinks at the sight of his ex-colleague and pricks his ears slightly. After a moment's hesitation, he quirks a smile and tosses his head in a playful challenge.

Naykhornn stares, wondering what had happened to the "never ever ever" of a year ago. However when the other stag doesn't break the stare or move away, Naykhornn inclines his head slowly, inviting the larger stag closer.

With a cheeky grin, Dearg goes.

---------------------

tl;dr
Dearg and Naykhornn cuddle.
Dearg suffers an attack of slighted masculinity. Naykhornn is bemused.
Dearg gets over his insecurities, and a friendship is born.

+2 stamina - collab art

+1 stamina - lit - 400-999 words (is a split POV)

Description

Featuring Dearg & Naykhornn

Silverthorne, Year 757 of the New Age

The first time they meet, it's a dark and cold day - the exact kind no fawnling wants to be caught in, least of all the ones with fire in their blood.

They're out near the mountains, where the temperatures are frigid and far less hospitable than the warmer inlands of Silverthorne. To Dearg, the other stag is a vaguely familiar face - one he has seen around the herd on occasion, and even sparred against during trainings once or twice. However they never spoke, and it isn't till now - when Dearg catches sight of the blurred shape of the other soldier's distinctive rack in the distance - that it occurs to him that he doesn't even know the darker fawnling's name.

As the other stag draws closer, Dearg turns to face him fully, letting out a bellow to help the other stag find him in the steadily heavier snow storm. As the stag approaches slowly, sluggishly, Dearg pulls up a cheerful grin and pricks his ears.

"Lovely weather we're having!"

The look the other stag shoots him is dry and baleful, however a small smile does twitch up the corner of his mouth once he draws close enough. "Quite. Are we the only ones left on patrol out here?" He asks with a frown, looking displeased at the thought.

Dearg grimaces and shrugs slightly, glancing off to the side at the now almost solid curtain of snow falling. "Dunno. And there's no way in heck we're separating to go look." He says, finality in his tone. At this point, if the each try to set off on their own - whether to find the others, or to get back to the mainland, it'd be a fool's errand and one bound to end in injury if not death.

The darker stag sighs and droops slightly before nodding slightly in acquiescence. "Then I suggest we find shelter and wait out the storm. The weather has been erratic, but it should blow over by morning."

Letting out a grunt of agreement, Dearg inclines his head and the two set off slowly, their bodies drifting closer in the subconscious search for warmth as they press on.

+

Later, the storm has let up substantially, however the chill in the air is still one the stags are unaccustomed to. As such, they have ended up in an awkward arrangement of bodies and limbs - one most stags would never usually abide by willingly.

Dearg huffs out a soft breath from where he is lying, his side pressed up against the other stag. It is a supremely strange feeling, a mixture of the familiar comfort of the warm press of a body, mixed with the most assuredly unusual large size of the said body.

The red stag stares out into the snow, a tension at his jaw as he studiously ignores his companion while simultaneously shifting closer whenever a cool breeze whips past. It is when he feels a heavy weight settle down upon his back that he flinches and tenses further, glancing down at the other stag who he still doesn't know the name of.

"I think it's kind of sad that is is probably the closest I've ever been to anyone - does included." He says dryly in an attempt to lighten the situation and take their minds off matters. He can feel the weight of the other soldier's gaze on him, but when the other stag says nothing in response, he sighs even heavier and shifts uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid you're not my first. I have a son." The lazy, tiredly amused reply startles a laugh out of Dearg, and he turns to look at his companion with a raised eyebrow. "That so? Didn't have you pegged as the daddy sort." He said, smirking, however the grin is wiped off his face as the other stag stares at him cooly and replies with a,

"Didn't have you pegged as the cuddling up to strange stags in the snow sort either."

Dearg flushes, mortified, and rolls his eyes and they both fall silent, neither really willing to break the relative silence of the moment.

"Naykhornn."

Dearg startles and glances back at the stag with the cool eyes, frowning slightly. "What was that?"

"Naykhornn. My name."

Dearg frowns slightly, considering it, before nodding slowly. "Dearg."

The two fall silent once more, and Naykhornn once again curls in closer to the larger stag. This time, Dearg allows himself to relax into the warmth of the other stag, though he still keeps his face turned pointedly away. After a moment, he finally speaks up, voice resigned and amused and gruff.

"You know, Nayk. You seem like a cool guy, honest. But this is way out of my comfort zone, and I can barely bring myself to look you in the eye. So don't take this the wrong way, but we can never ever talk after this. Ever."

The spidery stag raises an eyebrow of his own, finally letting out a huff. "We are caught in a snowstorm, and the thing you are worried about is your image. Stag, you have issues."

Dearg smirked and rolled his eyes over to look wryly at Naykhornn for the first time since they had laid down all those hours ago.

"So I've been told."

+

When the snow finally lets up later, the two uncurl themselves out of the tight ball they had somehow wound themselves into over the course of the night, and wordlessly make their way down the mountain paths to head back towards the main capital. The journey is a long one, but silent - Dearg unwilling to acknowledge the other, and Naykhornn not really caring much either way. When they finally reach the Silver Vale, the two part ways with no more than a glance, and that is the last Naykhornn ever expects to see of Dearg.

+

Indeed, for the next few months, the red stag is absent from all of Naykhornn's patrols and trainings. At first he assumes that Dearg is far better at hiding than he had thought possible, but then he hears rumours of how the other stag apparently was discharged honourably from the soldier ranks in order to become a firebringer.

Naykhornn frowns slightly, consideringly, but then puts it out of his mind. After all, he hadn't expected to interact with the other stag again, and so there is no reason to be put out that the other stag is, after all, gone.

+

Two seasons later, it is summer, and Naykhornn is standing guard by the mountain pass - though nowhere near as high up this time, he's learnt his lesson. The patrol is a long and boring one, the nearest other soldier stationed a good 10 minutes or so away. The spider stag looks around with half lidded eyes, trying to find something to amuse himself with.

And he finds himself locking gazes with another stag, one that is strangely familiar. It takes a moment to place the stag's face, however once he does he is surprised. Dearg.

The red stag blinks at the sight of his ex-colleague and pricks his ears slightly. After a moment's hesitation, he quirks a smile and tosses his head in a playful challenge.

Naykhornn stares, wondering what had happened to the "never ever ever" of a year ago. However when the other stag doesn't break the stare or move away, Naykhornn inclines his head slowly, inviting the larger stag closer.

With a cheeky grin, Dearg goes.

---------------------

tl;dr
Dearg and Naykhornn cuddle.
Dearg suffers an attack of slighted masculinity. Naykhornn is bemused.
Dearg gets over his insecurities, and a friendship is born.

+2 stamina - collab art

+1 stamina - lit - 400-999 words (is a split POV)