Something Grows Amongst the Trees (Closed for Mr_Positive)

[Poprockz]

On the morning of the forth day, Illuvian opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The last three days had been a blur for her and she found herself having trouble recalling much that had happened. Even when she had been in moments of reprieve, her mind was somewhere else entirely. In essence, what she had done was consume dark magic. It had been a creature of rage. Not the sort of rage that caused rampages or destruction, but the cold, dark sort of rage that looked on impassively as it brought unspeakable acts of cruelty into the world.

It affected her mind as well as her body, and while her body shivered and shook, it wasn't just the temperature that had her trembling. Horrible images had been forced into her mind... Images of flayed animals, thunderstorms, a rampaging fire, and more. All the things that brought her anguish tried to unravel her in an effort to make her succumb to its desire to be released. It was like she had swallowed a rat who was trying to scratch and bite its way out of her belly before she could digest it.

Though digest it she had. Her own magic and will had proven stronger, and now the thing had been absorbed. The raw magic it had was now hers, while the corruption had been purged.

During the time of her feverish fight with the dark sickness, she had been vaguely aware of a comforting presence. Every time she had reached out for comfort, she could remember feeling something taking her hand along with a soothing male voice. It had sounded familiar, though at the time she couldn't place it.

It felt like a tree had fallen on her with how her body ached. That being said, she could feel that she was out of the woods, so to speak. Of course she wasn't healthy enough to do much of anything at the moment, but she was at least coherent and feeling a lot better in comparison. She would only become stronger as she recovered from the ordeal, more quickly if she rested enough.

The nymph scooted herself back against the pillows so she could sit upright and lean against them. Such an action made her groan from the soreness of her muscles. It helped that she was lying in the softest place she had ever laid in. A grassy meadow or patch of moss didn't hold a candle to the mattress she found herself atop of.

Where was she? Was she inside Ethan's cabin? That would make sense, seeing as she collapsed outside.

"Ethan?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from coughing.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan sat slumped in the armchair near the bed, his head resting on one hand, while the other dangled limply at his side. He looked exhausted, his face pale and shadowed with stubble from days of neglect. A cup of untouched coffee sat on the small table beside him, its surface long gone cold. When he heard her voice, weak and croaking, he jolted upright, blinking like a man startled awake from a nightmare.

“Illuvian?” His voice was tentative, almost disbelieving, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d really heard her. He stood quickly, crossing the room in a few strides, and knelt by the bedside to meet her gaze.

Her eyes, though tired, were open and focused. Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders slumping in relief. “You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “Thank God.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, taking in the change. Her skin, though pale, no longer had that unsettling, feverish sheen. The black goo, the shivering, the frantic delirium—it was all over. She looked alive again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone low but steady. “You’ve... you’ve been through hell. I wasn’t sure—” His voice broke slightly, and he looked down, composing himself. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

She shifted slightly, leaning back against the pillows with a groan, and Ethan immediately reached out. “Hey, take it slow. You’ve been out of it for three days. Your body’s still recovering.”

He stood and grabbed the cup of water he’d been keeping at the bedside. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “Drink this. You need it.” When she struggled to lift her hand, he quickly adjusted, bringing the cup to her lips and tilting it gently.

“Small sips,” he instructed, watching carefully as she drank. “You’ve been pretty out of it. I—I tried my best to keep you hydrated, but you weren’t exactly cooperative.” He offered her the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

Once she’d had enough, he set the cup down and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh... I wasn’t sure what to do,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I thought about taking you to a hospital, but...” He gestured vaguely around the room, as though the strangeness of the situation spoke for itself. “What would I even tell them? ‘Hey, this woman just absorbed some sort of shadow monster, and now she’s coughing up black goo’? Yeah, I don’t think that’d go over well.”

His gaze softened as he looked at her again. “So I just... stayed. Did what I could. Kept you warm when you were freezing, cooled you down when you were burning up. Tried to feed you, too. Took me a while to figure out the thing with the metal utensils.” He shook his head, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “You probably hate broth by now. Sorry about that.”

Ethan hesitated, his hand hovering near the edge of the bed before he finally placed it there, gripping the blanket lightly. “You scared the hell out of me, Illuvian. I didn’t know if I was helping or just making things worse. But... you’re here. You’re awake. That’s all that matters.”

He glanced at her again, his brows furrowed. “You should rest. I’ll get you something to eat, something better than broth this time. Just... don’t try to do too much, okay? Let me take care of things for now.”

Ethan stood and lingered for a moment, his hand resting on the bedpost. “I owe you my life,” he said quietly. “I’m just glad I didn’t mess up when it was my turn to help you.”​

 

[Poprockz]

Wow. He looked... terrible. She wondered if the stress of such an ordeal had been particularly hard on him. A night of caring for someone could be difficult- wait. Three days?! She had been out for three days?! To her, it had felt like one long night, so it was shocking to hear that she had been fighting it for that long. Had he been caring for her all this time? That would make sense based on his appearance and obvious exhaustion, but it still surprised her as well.

Her eyes scanned the room and she soon noticed the pile of damp cloths, several bowls and glasses piled on each other, towels that were stained black from her coughing fits and tears... He truly had been doing his best to help her during the sickness. It became clear to her that he was the hand she had held and the voice that had grounded her.

He could have done any number of things to her, weak as she was. He could have killed her, restrained her, imprisoned her, sold her... but instead, he had fed and watered her with the utmost attention. A bloom of gratitude blossomed in her chest; perhaps Ethan was different than other humans.

Since her throat hurt, she simply let him speak as she normally did, only waiting until there was a lull in his questions and comments before making her own response.

"I am still weak, but I am certain that the worst of it is behind me," the Nymph gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, Ethan. You helped me more than you know, and I am grateful for it. I apologize also..." Illuvian's eyes met his and she tipped her head in a slight bow. "When you called for me, I assumed that you had accidentally said my name in your sleep so I didn't think to bring any of my artifacts. This sickness could have been avoided if I had something with which to trap that entity."

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded across his chest, his gaze steady on Illuvian as she spoke. Her voice was weak but steady, and the fact that she was speaking at all felt like a relief after the chaos of the last few days. He nodded at her words, his brow furrowing slightly as she explained her assumption about why she had come.

When she apologized, he shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Don’t,” he said, his voice firm but quiet. “You don’t have to apologize. You were trying to help me. And—” He paused, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

He glanced briefly at the damp towels and stained cloths strewn about, remnants of the ordeal. The sight made his stomach twist, a reminder of just how close things had come to going horribly wrong. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me,” he said. “You saved my life, Illuvian. And I didn’t exactly make it easy for you.”

Ethan pushed off the table and began clearing away some of the mess, stacking the bowls and glasses carefully. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he were conserving energy, but he kept glancing back at her as if to reassure himself she was still there, still breathing.

“I didn’t know what to do half the time,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You were burning up one minute, freezing the next. That... thing you took in—it really did a number on you. I kept thinking I was screwing it all up, that I’d make it worse somehow.”

He paused, gripping the edge of the sink as he stared down into it, his jaw tightening. “But you pulled through. You’re tough, I’ll give you that.”

Turning back to her, Ethan let out a long breath, his expression softening. “You said the worst is behind you, and I’ll take your word for it. But you’re still not ready to be up and about. You need to rest, let your body recover. Whatever you need—food, water, anything—just say the word.”

He hesitated for a moment, then added, almost as an afterthought, “And, uh... thanks for trusting me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice, but... I’m glad I could help.”​

 

[Poprockz]

She shook her head, "you have already gone above and beyond for me regardless of whether you knew what you were doing or not. Ultimately, it was a war between my body and the shadow, and it was something that would be decided by who was stronger. Your help or lack thereof would not have doomed me... though, I will admit that had you not been my caretaker, I would probably be in much worse shape than I am right now. I hear tales of some fae losing their minds to such a disease, but you were very effective at grounding me. I found your voice to be soothing..."

That statement was followed by her clearing her throat awkwardly and continuing on quickly as though to brush past it. Why saying such things made her feel a bit shy, she would never know. It was only fact, and yet she felt that speaking such things aloud might make him think differently of her.

"If it has truly been three days and nights, I must go back to my cave. You look as though you have not slept and I don't want to cause you further exhaustion." Illy had spied her nightgown, pulling it up and over herself before trying to get out of the bed. For a brief moment, her youthful breasts were visible before being hidden by the green fabric. It didn't go well for her, for as soon as she tried to actually stand, her legs gave out and she ended up grabbing the nearby chair to slowly sink to her knees. Once there, she tried to will her legs to work, but they seemed to be on vacation at the moment. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she muttered something under her breath in another language. Clearly she had used some very bad language though from the sound of it.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan froze when Illuvian began pulling the nightgown over her head, and for a brief moment, her figure was fully exposed to him. Her skin, smooth and luminous, was unmarred, and the curve of her youthful breasts caught his gaze before he could stop himself. A sharp pang of guilt hit him almost immediately, but the image lingered, stubborn and vivid, in the back of his mind. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it.

He busied himself by stepping to the side, pretending to straighten the bedding while she struggled with her legs. It gave him a moment to recover, though his heart was still beating faster than it had any right to. When she muttered in that other language, her frustration evident, Ethan turned his attention back to her, careful to keep his gaze fixed on her face.

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” he said, stepping forward. He crouched beside her, offering a steadying hand. “You’ve been through hell, Illuvian. You’re not just going to walk out of here like nothing happened. Your legs are probably still recovering from... well, everything.”

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his tone soft but firm. “You’re not going anywhere until you can stand on your own without crumpling like that. If you try again and hurt yourself, you’re just going to make it harder to heal. So, like it or not, you’re stuck here a little longer.”

Ethan reached for the chair she was gripping and pulled it closer to her, easing her into a seated position. He kept his movements careful and deliberate, avoiding anything that might seem intrusive. Still, his mind betrayed him, replaying that brief, accidental glimpse from moments ago. Focus, Ethan. She's vulnerable, and you're better than this.​

 

[Poprockz]

Illuvian huffed and nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. While it was frustrating, he was right: there was no way she could leave with how weak she was right now. The cabin would have to be her temporary home for the next several days.

“Alright." she responded, her voice resigned. "I suppose it would be wise for me to stay where I am. However, I demand that you take a nap before doing anything else at the very least!" Her tone was insistent, and her fiery gaze reflected how committed she was to having him rest. However, a moment later, it occurred to her that it would be quite tiring to simply sit in this chair until he was done recouping his own strength.

“And… if you could move me back to the bed, it would be appreciated.” The nymph avoided his eyes as her arms came up like a child asking to be picked up. Her cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of having to ask for his assistance. It was humiliating, having to be moved around and waited on, but she didn't have much choice. All she could hope for was that he wouldn't belittle or talk down to her.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan gave a tired, half-hearted chuckle at Illuvian's insistence. Despite the weight of exhaustion pulling at him, he could see how much she wanted him to take care of himself, even in her weakened state. Her concern for him, even while struggling with her own recovery, tugged at him more than he cared to admit.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He gave her a reassuring nod. “I’ll sleep. Just... give me a few minutes to get you back to bed, and I’ll rest afterward. No arguments.”

As she held her arms up, a small part of Ethan felt a strange knot tighten in his chest. There was something vulnerable and almost childlike in the gesture, but the flush on her cheeks told him how much it embarrassed her to ask for help. The thought that she was feeling this way, after all the pain she had just gone through, softened his demeanor even further. He bent down carefully, supporting her with the utmost gentleness as he helped her back into the bed, making sure she was comfortable.

Once she was settled, he stood back and took in the scene. The room was quiet now, the distant sounds of the forest just a faint murmur in the background. Despite the chaotic few days, the cabin had a strange sense of peace to it, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Ethan felt the pull of sleep. He could hear the exhaustion in his own breath, see the fatigue in his reflection when he glanced at the window, and finally, the weight of the day seemed to hit him.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake the grogginess that was creeping over him. "Alright," he said, his voice thick with fatigue. "I’m going to sleep. But I’m not going far... I’ll just be on the floor, in case you need anything." He grabbed a spare blanket from the nearby shelf and laid it out on the floor. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he could still be close, ready to help if needed.​

 

[Poprockz]

“Why are you sleeping on the floor? There is plenty of room on the bed.” She scooted herself over so that she was at the side of it, leaving space for him to lie down. While she herself could have slept on the floor without issue, she seemed to recall that humans required either beds or sleeping bags in order for them to be able to sleep well. From how tired he seemed to be, she imagined he could sleep just about anywhere. Still, she was a guest in his home and she didn’t want to deprive him of his own comforts; that was a poor way to thank him for his care.

Illy patted the spot next to herself insistently. “If you sleep on the floor, then I will also sleep on the floor.” It was a stubborn thing to say, she knew, but she didn’t want him to argue with her.

At this point she hadn’t yet become conscious of him in a romantic sense, so it didn’t occur to her that it might be awkward for them to be sleeping together.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan looked up from his makeshift bed, his head resting heavily on the folded blanket he had used as a pillow. His eyes were already half-closed, weighed down by exhaustion, but her voice cut through the haze of his drowsiness. He blinked at her in disbelief, her words slowly sinking in.

"You’re serious, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice low and rough with fatigue. He let out a faint, weary laugh and rubbed his face. "Illy, you can barely sit up, let alone move to the floor. The last thing you need is to make yourself worse trying to prove a point."

Her insistence was met with a long pause as Ethan weighed his options. She was right about the bed—there was plenty of room. But the thought of sharing the space with her, even in a completely innocent context, stirred an awkwardness he wasn’t prepared to confront. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze as he processed the situation.

"Alright, fine," he relented finally, his voice soft but resigned. "But only because I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now." He pushed himself up with a groan, his body stiff from days of overexertion. As he stood, he cast her a sidelong glance. "You don’t have to guilt me into using my own damn bed, you know," he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone—just a dry humor that masked his discomfort.

Crossing to the bed, he hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the far edge, leaving a respectful gap between them. He leaned back slowly, the mattress beneath him a welcome relief after the hard floor.

"Happy now?" he asked quietly, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement despite his exhaustion. He shifted onto his side, keeping his back to her to give her as much privacy as he could manage. Though sleep was already tugging at him, Ethan couldn’t quite shake the strangeness of the situation.

Still, exhaustion won out in the end. Within moments, his breathing evened, and the tension in his body melted away as sleep finally claimed him.​

 

[Poprockz]

His comment about her not being able to make good on her threat was unfounded. Sure, she was still weak, but she could at least slide out of the bed and onto the floor. Gravity would assist in that endeavor and she was certain she could do so without hurting herself if she was careful.

“Happy now?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

Illy watched as he quickly drifted off to sleep. There wasn’t a whole lot to watch, seeing as his back was pointed at her, but it was clear by how quickly his breathing slowed that he was as exhausted as she had assumed. He needed a full night’s rest rather than a simple nap.

She watched him for some time, and eventually he turned over to rest on his back. Her eyes found his face once more and she leaned over him slightly.

"Such a curious human..." she murmured to herself as his body tried to recover from his three-day watch. He hadn't had to go to such lengths for her, but he had done so willingly, even enthusiastically one might have said. Ethan was willing to give up his bed for her, feed her, tend to her ailing body... a lot of people would have given up or simply left her alone in the bed to heal for herself.

Perhaps it was gratitude for having saved him thrice now, though she got the feeling that this wasn't his only reason. It seemed that the man had a kind heart. While she couldn't recall anything specific he had said when she was sick, she distinctly remembered feeling the comfort from the kindness of his tone.

The nymph wasn't cognizant of her own tiredness, but eventually she too fell asleep. During her slumber, she ended up wrapping her arms around his arm like it was a body pillow, the thing wedged in-between her breasts separated only by a thin layer of fabric.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan stirred as the soft, pale light of dawn filtered through the cabin's windows. His mind surfaced slowly, like breaking through a fog, and he became aware of a warmth pressed against him. Something soft and delicate rested against his back, and an arm draped loosely around his waist. For a moment, he thought it might have been a dream, the remnants of exhaustion still clouding his senses. But as he blinked himself fully awake, reality settled in with an almost audible thud.

His muscles tensed, and his breath hitched. What the hell...? It wasn’t just an arm—it was Illuvian. She was pressed against him, her body molded to his back in a way that made heat creep up the back of his neck. Her arm had slid across his waist in her sleep, her grip relaxed but undeniably present.

Ethan swallowed hard, trying to will his pulse to slow down. His mind raced, searching for some logical explanation for the situation. He’d fallen asleep on his side, sure, but he didn’t remember moving... Did she...?

Gritting his teeth, he carefully shifted to assess the situation, only to realize something that made the moment even worse—her face was buried against his shoulder blade, and her breath tickled his skin through his shirt. A faint, floral scent he hadn’t noticed before lingered in the air, likely coming from her. It was... distracting, to say the least.

"Okay, Ethan," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. "Don’t panic. Just... don’t make it weird."

He stared at the ceiling, his mind oscillating between the practical—how to extricate himself without waking her—and the entirely inappropriate. Her body was so close, her warmth seeping through the thin layers of fabric between them, and the fact that her arm rested so casually across him wasn’t helping. He cursed himself for noticing how slender her fingers felt against his side, or how the curve of her body fit so naturally against his.

Stop it. Now’s not the time for... that.

Ethan exhaled slowly, his resolve hardening. He needed to move. Gently, carefully, he began to shift, trying not to wake her. The last thing he wanted was for her to open her eyes and catch him mid-squirm. But as he shifted, her grip tightened slightly, and he froze.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath, a dry, self-deprecating laugh escaping him. He let his head fall back against the pillow, resigning himself to his predicament for the time being. "This is gonna be an awkward morning."​

 

[Poprockz]

None in the forest typically roused her from her sleep unless it was an absolute emergency, so she often slept very deeply. This was true for her that night as well. The Nymph was blissfully unaware that she had cuddled up to him and bound him in her embrace; all she knew was that she was warm, comforted, and felt very safe. As she started to drift upwards from the depths of her slumber, she let out a soft little, "mm..." sound and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder blade much like a cat would.

When she awoke a short time later, she noticed that she was practically glued to him. Her eyes snapped open and she was stunned for a few moments. How did things end up like this?! When had she moved across the bed and grabbed him? Oh Gods, she certainly hoped that he was still asleep, or this would be a very awkward morning. He would think she was some sort of indecent being who accosted people in their sleep!

The first indication that he would have regarding her being awake was her body tensing as though she was just now realizing what sort of position they were in. She then very carefully withdrew her arms from around him as though trying to keep him from waking up. The warmth of her body would leave his back as she scooted slowly away from him, then rolled over so that she was lying on her side facing away from him. Though her face couldn't be seen, the tips of her pointed ears were red from embarrassment.

Illy stayed in that position, hoping that he would be none-the-wiser to her unintentional cuddling. The fae couldn't lie, so if he asked her directly about it she would have to refuse to answer or redirect the conversation elsewhere.

As she tried to recover from her embarrassment, she couldn't help but think to herself that he had smelled... vaguely of the coffee drink he liked so much. She was starting to become fond of that smell.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan had been awake for some time now, unwilling to move and risk alerting Illuvian to his awareness of the situation. He’d felt her shift against him, her cheek pressing momentarily against his back, and then the unmistakable tension in her body as she stirred. The soft "mm..." sound she made had nearly undone him; it was innocent, almost childlike, but far too intimate given the circumstances.

When her warmth disappeared from his back, and he felt the faintest tug of the bed as she scooted away, he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Her movements were careful—painstakingly so—and it was clear she was trying not to wake him. That, at least, gave him a small measure of relief.

Ethan kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, as he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to say when he inevitably had to address the morning. He could sense her lying there, stiff and quiet, probably praying he wouldn’t bring it up. Gods, this is such a mess, he thought.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pretending, Ethan decided to break the silence. He cracked open an eye and stretched with an exaggerated yawn, as if just waking up. Rolling onto his back, he glanced over his shoulder toward her. She had her back to him, her figure rigid, ears visible even through her hair—and unmistakably red at the tips.

"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep. He kept his tone casual, neutral, as though he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes pretending not to notice her curled up against him. "You sleep okay?"

It was a simple question, but he hoped it would ease the tension. If she was as flustered as he suspected, there was no need to push her further. Whatever had happened during the night, it hadn’t been malicious. Hell, it probably wasn’t even intentional. And the last thing he wanted was to make her feel worse about it.

Still, as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair, Ethan couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the feeling of her arm around him, or the faint floral scent that still lingered in the air. It was going to take more than a casual question to shake those thoughts loose.​

 

[Poprockz]

She felt immense relief when he finally stirred and yawned, likely having just woken up. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed that she had unintentionally spooned him. Illuvian also made a show of "stirring" and turning over, faking her own little yawn in the hopes to further sell the idea that she too had been resting peacefully.

Though she didn't fully sit up, she did prop her head up on her hand while remaining on her side. Her hair was a bit unkempt as it usually was, though at this time there were no errant leaves resting on any of her curls. Though she no longer feared that he knew, the blush that had reached her ears hadn't yet left her cheeks.

"I slept very well, thank you. Your bed is the most comfortable place I think I have ever slept on. It is also very warm and soft." She answered, her eyes studying him. His tousled hair was a rather good look on him, she thought to herself.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the cool floor, pretending to focus on shaking off the remnants of sleep. Her voice, soft and smooth, cut through the quiet morning, and his thoughts snagged on her words. Warm and soft, she’d said, with an earnestness that seemed to echo in his chest. He shouldn’t have felt anything about that—shouldn’t have even noticed it—but he did.

He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze flicking to her face. Her hair was a little wild, strands of it curling in disarray, but somehow it suited her. She had propped herself up on one arm, the loose neckline of her gown slipping just enough to make him drag his eyes back to the floor. He clenched his jaw. She was radiant even when disheveled, and it was a problem—a very big problem—because Ethan couldn’t stop himself from imagining things he shouldn’t.

Like how her skin might feel against his fingers if he brushed that unruly hair out of her face. Or how she might react if he traced the curve of her cheek, her collarbone... Stop it. Stop. His mind was taking him places he had no right to go. Illuvian was his guest, his patient, and she was vulnerable, recovering. He had no excuse—none—to be looking at her like this or thinking these kinds of thoughts.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to sound normal. “Glad to hear it,” he said, standing abruptly and tugging at his shirt as though that would settle the heat in his chest. He busied himself with tidying the bed where he’d slept on the floor, avoiding looking at her for too long. “I don’t usually get compliments on my bed, but I guess it’s doing its job.”

Ethan moved to the kitchen area, desperate for something—anything—to do with his hands. “You hungry?” he asked, opening the small pantry and inspecting its contents. “I could make an omelette. Got some fresh fruit too, if that sounds good.”

He started gathering what he needed without waiting for her response. Cooking gave him something to focus on that wasn’t her or the awkward tension still lingering in the air. But even as he cracked eggs and chopped vegetables, his thoughts betrayed him. He imagined the sound of her laughter again—how it might fill the cabin—or the way she had smiled faintly at him last night before they’d fallen asleep. It was maddening, how easily she’d wormed her way into his head.

He shook his head as if the motion might physically dislodge those thoughts. She’s just a guest, he told himself, but it sounded hollow even in his own mind. And you need to get your shit together.

“Breakfast will be ready in a few,” he called over his shoulder, keeping his tone casual. He couldn’t let her see how rattled he was—not when he didn’t even fully understand it himself.​

 

[Poprockz]

She was indeed hungry- immensely so, in fact. Over the last three days, she had consumed naught but broth and perhaps other liquids he had deigned to try to feed her. As such, her body was craving a more substantial meal. What would he make for her, she wondered, looking over curiously. Her body had turned over in the bed, but she had decided that it was too chilly for her to sit up just yet. As such, she simply laid there, wrapped in the covers with only her head poking out of her plush cocoon.

"I would be grateful for some food, yes."

The eggs she recognized, though she hadn't eaten those types of eggs in a while. The veggies and fruit all looked familiar as well, though a lot of them weren't plants that one could find in this forest. As such, the only time she would have had the opportunity to try them was at one of the solstice festivals where there was an abundance of food, wine, and music.

Illy was used to eating raw eggs. Cooking her food wasn't something she did as she either ate it in animal form, or ate things her human form could stomach on its own. The solstice festivals were rare occasions where she would try cooked foods, but she had never seen an "omelet" being served as a dish. Usually it was some sort of cooked animal. There were salads and fruits as well, but nothing quite so intricate as a lot of the things humans seemed to like to cook. Maybe some of the high fae had fancier foods at their feasts, but she had only attended ones for nymphs, brownies, kelpies, and changelings.

Ethan seemed rather... plagued by sleep, perhaps? His body looked a bit stiff and every now and then he would stare at nothing and shake his head. Could it be that he was having trouble waking up? It would make sense from how sleep-deprived he had been lately.

"Ethan..." she called out to him. "What is an omelet? And do you happen to have the honey you promised me? I think it would do me some good to have something sweet." Her green eyes looked very hopeful at the suggestion.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan glanced back at her from the stove, his hands deftly whisking the eggs in a bowl. Her voice, soft and curious, tugged at him again, breaking through the haze of thoughts that clung to him like cobwebs. He gave a faint smile, doing his best to shake off the tension in his shoulders and act normal.

"An omelette," he said, as he poured the mixture into the heated pan, "is basically eggs cooked with whatever fillings you want. Vegetables, cheese... sometimes meat." He reached for the chopped onions and peppers, sprinkling them evenly across the sizzling eggs. The sound of the light hiss and pop of the pan filled the small cabin, a comforting backdrop to the quiet morning.

Her mention of honey made him pause. Of course, she'd remember that, he thought, a hint of guilt creeping in for having nearly forgotten his offhand promise. He opened the small cabinet near the window and retrieved the jar of amber honey, holding it up so she could see. "Got it right here," he said. "You'll have it with your fruit in just a minute."

As he returned to cooking, Ethan’s eyes flicked to her cocooned form on the bed. She was a picture of ease, her head poking out from the covers, hair still slightly wild but framing her delicate features in a way that made her seem... ethereal. He couldn't help it; his gaze lingered, caught by the contrast of her vibrant green eyes against her soft, pale skin. There was something about her lying there, wrapped up and trusting, that stirred an ache deep in his chest—a longing he had no business entertaining.

He turned back to the stove quickly, forcing himself to focus on flipping the omelette. The last thing he needed was for her to catch him staring like some love-struck fool. But the thoughts came anyway, unbidden and unrelenting. He imagined what it would be like to pull her closer, to touch the smooth skin of her arm as she lay there... to lean in and—

Stop it. What the hell is wrong with you? He exhaled sharply, scolding himself as he folded the omelet neatly in half. These thoughts were reckless, dangerous. He needed to remember that she was still recovering, that she trusted him to care for her—not to think of her in ways that were anything but honorable.

"Breakfast is almost ready," he said, his voice steadier than he expected as he plated the omelette and began slicing fresh fruit. He put the jar of honey on the table, knowing it would brighten her mood. He brought the plate to the table and gestured for her to join him. "I think you'll like it."​

 

[Poprockz]

Okay… she could do this. Illy scooted up to a sitting position and pulled the covers off of herself. She then swung her legs over the side of the bed with a determined expression. Upon attempting to stand though, she found herself only marginally successful. The fae was able to stand for a moment, but couldn’t summon the strength to take additional steps. When she attempted to do so, once again she slowly sunk to her knees, her palms going to the floor.

However, she found that at the very least she could crawl, and crawl she did.

Illy crawled over to the table, the thin material of her gown clinging to her shapely ass as she went. When she reached it, she felt a bit proud of her progress, a satisfied smile on her face as she sat down on the floor and reached up to see if she could manage to get her plate off the table so she could eat.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan was midway through plating the omelette when the sound of movement caught his attention. He turned, just in time to see her slowly rising to her feet before sinking back down to her knees. His gut twisted with the instinct to step in and help, but he stayed rooted, watching as she began to crawl. Her determination was almost endearing, but Ethan couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting downward. The thin fabric of her gown did little to conceal the curve of her hips, the subtle sway as she moved forward on her hands and knees. His breath hitched before he could stop himself, his mind betraying him with thoughts he knew were inappropriate. Goddamn it, Ethan. Stop it.

He snapped his eyes back to the table, gripping the edge of the plate he’d prepared as if to steady himself. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Hold on. Let me help you.”

Setting the plate aside, he crossed the room quickly, forcing himself to keep his gaze level. He reached down, offering her an arm as she reached the chair. “Here,” he said, his tone gentler now, betraying a trace of guilt for not stepping in sooner. “Let’s get you off the floor, yeah? You’ve done enough crawling for one morning.”

Once she was seated, he turned back to the stove, exhaling heavily through his nose to clear the lingering heat in his chest. Ethan finished plating her breakfast with deliberate focus, arranging the omelette alongside a handful of sliced fruit and a drizzle of honey on the side. “Here,” he said, setting it in front of her. “Vegetarian omelette. Fresh fruit. And honey, as requested.”

He stepped back, giving her space, though his pulse was still unsteady. “Eat up. You’ll feel better with something in your stomach.” He kept his tone casual, but his thoughts churned. The morning was off to a complicated start, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.​

 

[Poprockz]

It was certainly nice of him to help her up to the table, especially when it was her own fault that she couldn't reach it; she would have been content sitting on the floor where she was. Nothing wrong with sitting on the ground while you ate, she figured. Still, once she had been situated in the chair, she had to admit that the chair itself was rather comfy. Not comfy enough to sleep in, but surely comfy enough for a meal.

Illy brushed the floor dust off her hands before reaching for a piece of fruit on her plate, picking it up with her fingers, and popping it into her mouth. It was a ripe strawberry that was bursting with flavor, the honey drizzled upon it only making it that much more delectable.

She licked off the tips of her pointer finger and thumb before looking at him with an impressed gaze, "wow, the strawberry was very ripe, and the honey was amazing. I have never tasted honey quite like that. Thank you for the meal, Ethan." The fae reached out and took the omelet in her hand like it was some sort of hand-pie, finding that it was floppier than expected which meant that she had to hold it with both hands. It was also hot though, so she struggled for a moment before letting it flop back onto the plate. Her silverware was ignored though, and she decided that the best course of action was to rip off a corner of the omelet before putting it into her mouth and chewing.

Cooked eggs... they were so light and fluffy. It was such a flavorful mouthful that she wondered if Ethan cooked for other humans to earn his wages. She noticed something though: he wasn't eating with her.

"Where is your omelet and fruit?" She asked, letting her hands rest on the table. It felt wrong to eat if he was going to be hungry while she did so.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan stood at the stove, cracking another pair of eggs into a bowl with a practiced hand. He’d taken his time assembling her plate earlier, carefully balancing flavors and textures, but now he worked more quickly, his movements almost mechanical. The sizzling of butter hitting the hot pan was a welcome distraction from the way his chest felt tight.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly when she complimented the strawberries and honey, her voice carrying an almost childlike wonder. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "Glad you like it," he said simply, turning back to whisk the eggs.

Her next question caught him off guard. He paused mid-whisk, his brow furrowing slightly. “In a minute,” he replied without looking at her. It wasn’t a lie, exactly—he would eat, eventually—but he didn’t want to sit down right now. Not when her presence made his head feel muddled. Not when she kept looking at him with those wide, curious eyes like he was something remarkable.

He poured the beaten eggs into the pan, watching them spread and sizzle. As the edges began to set, he added the diced vegetables, letting the familiar routine steady him. Cooking was straightforward—measure, mix, heat. It didn’t leave room for stray thoughts, or at least, it shouldn’t have.

But even as he folded the omelette with care, his mind wandered. The way she had crawled across the floor earlier, determined despite her obvious weakness, kept replaying in his head. He clenched his jaw, shaking the thought away. Focus, Ethan.

Once his omelette was plated, he wiped his hands on a towel and turned back to the table. “Here,” he said, setting his plate down across from her before pulling out the chair. “Now I’ve got mine.” He took a seat, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the room. Picking up his fork, he forced himself to take a bite, hoping the act of eating would keep his thoughts in check.​

 

[Poprockz]

The nymph waited patiently for him to join her before picking up her omelet again. It was cooler now, so she was able to eat it somewhat like someone would eat a slice of melon. Things like having dirt on her hands didn't phase her- she had dirt on herself practically 95 percent of the time anyway. The only times she didn't was when she was swimming in the river or soaking in the hot springs.

When he sat down and started eating, she curiously watched as he maneuvered the fork. All the while, her mouth was either chewing or taking another bite of her fluffy omelet. She didn't use utensils, but she had seen humans use them sometimes.

Every bite was delicious, and soon she found that all that remained of the omelet was the greasy butter on her fingers and the corners of her mouth.

The fruit came next, each piece bursting with flavor. Strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries. They were all fruits she had eaten before, but that made them no less delectable. The honey was her favorite part of the breakfast though, not having thought she would ever get to try a different kind of honey. In the forest, the flowers that were available were wildflowers, so the honey tasted as such.

She picked up the little jar of honey and read the label. "Clover..." she murmured to herself. Interesting. It was then set down and she scooped up a bit of remaining honey off her plate and licked it off her finger. "That was a very good meal, and I enjoyed every bite of it. Where did you learn to cook like that? Do you do that for others to earn your coin?"

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan focused on his plate, trying to make himself seem more absorbed in his food than he actually was. Each bite of his omelet was an excuse not to meet her gaze. He didn’t have to see her to know she was watching him, curiosity practically radiating off her. It was a strange thing, having someone so intently focused on him. Most people either ignored him or gave him the bare minimum of attention—a courtesy he preferred.

When she finally spoke, her question caught him mid-chew. He swallowed quickly, setting his fork down as he considered how to answer. “No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t cook for a living. Just picked it up over time. When you’re on your own, you learn or you starve.”

It was a clipped response, but true enough. Cooking had been a necessity for him—something practical to keep himself fed, not an art or a passion. And yet, this morning, he’d found himself oddly invested in making sure her meal was just right. He didn’t want to think too hard about why.

He glanced up briefly and saw her licking honey off her fingers, the motion so casual it seemed second nature to her. His eyes darted back to his plate almost immediately. “Glad you liked it,” he added quietly, hoping to steer his thoughts back to neutral territory.

He stabbed at a piece of fruit with his fork, forcing himself to focus on the simple act of eating. The table was quiet except for the occasional sound of silverware or her murmured observations, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... something else entirely. Something he didn’t want to define.​

 

[Poprockz]

Social recluse as she was, she got the feeling that he didn’t want to talk to her right now. That was fine- she figured he was just very hungry and wanted to focus on eating his own meal. Soon she was done with her down and sighed in satisfaction. It was definitely a new and welcome experience, those eggs, and she hoped she could talk him into making her another one before she returned to her place in the forest.

The other humans were missing out by not employing him as a cook.

Now that she was done, she used a napkin to wipe off her face and hands. While she didn’t care about messiness while she was eating, she didn’t like the slick feeling of grease on her skin.

He was still working on his meal, so she glanced at the bed. Should she change into something that might have more luck getting into the bed? Maybe something without legs? If she failed, she didn’t want him to feel like he had to step away from his meal and help her.

Ultimately, she decided to go for it. The next moment there was a slight glow before she turned into a bull snake. She was able to slither down the chair and toward the bed, her scaly body weaving on the floor as she went. When she reached the bed, her head lifted as though assessing how she might climb it, her tongue flicking out briefly in contemplation.

She started to climb one of the bed posts, moving slowly and carefully. Her body twisted around it and she found that she was able to make slow progress as long as she didn’t push herself too much. It would take a while, but it was a good exercise to try.