palpalbuddypal:

“Stop moving!”

It was pouring. The sky was dark. It was a setting Author had placed many of his characters into, dark and dreary nights with pouring rain that battered down even the sharpest of wits and mightiest wills. Rain seemed to drain all hope; that’s why he had always used it. To show his characters there was nothing to hope for.

But those days were over. Long gone, just like his eyesight. Hell, the only way he knew that it was raining was because of the sound that he heard even inside his recording booth, making him stop in the middle of his newest story and comment to his listeners about the rain. He had stopped, listening to light pattering become the noise of fat droplets striking down upon the roof. Then, the story continued.

He knew it was dark because the man across to him only came at night. His schedule was too busy for anything else.

He knew from the sounds that Dark sat in a chair across from him, his aura a muted creaking groan that accompanied the rain. The usual ringing was thankfully absent. From his narrations, Host could see Dark was paler than usual, his aura a wave of red, blue and black. The aura cracked and whipped out in spikes like lightening bolts, but did nothing to harm the shelves of books around him. It was distracting. Host could almost see the silhouettes of two- three people?- tied, mushed together in the conglomerate that was flaring around Dark in violent screams, whipping around him-

“Stop moving,” Host finally said, breaking the comfortable almost-silence they had nearly perfected.

Dark tilted his head to the side. Host heard his neck crack. It sounded like lightning splitting wood.

“I’m not moving-“

“Your aura.” Host grimaced. He touched his bandages, which were thankfully still dry.

Dark must’ve done something, since soon his aura was much more… contained. Without another word, the man stood, and Host narrated every step as Dark flicked his wrist, a teapot materializing in his hand. Host smiled. It was always nice to have Dark around, to be able to freely use magic without having to worry about any consequences. The perks of having Dark as a friend.

Host pulled a teacup into existence, and narrated as Dark poured him a glass of sweet smelling tea before taking a seat. Then, back to silence. Host sipped the tea, bitter at first but too much sugar gave it a saccharine aftertaste. It was Darks preference, so he never bothered to ask him to change it.

Besides, the tea was like Dark. Bitter, gritty, overly sweet, but familiar. Warm. Like coming home.

At first, the visits were always to ask Host for something. Glimpses into the future, changes to reality, things that tested Host’s newfound powers. Every time, he would ask Dark to make his aura move less, and Dark would listen.

Then, he came to borrow books, then, for tea and magic late at night after long days. Familiarity, warmth. Two things that Host would never had associated Dark with, until he got to know him.

More silence as Dark moved his chair closer to Hosts, so now their knees bumped together. Host felt the coldness of Darks aura wrap around him as the entity leaned forward, wrapping Host up in a hug. Host didn’t ask, didn’t break the precious silence like the raindrops or the thunder, but instead pulled Dark close.

Neither of them moved. Host felt the tea in his cup grow cold, but stayed still, feeling cold all over from Darks touch. Their chests rose and fell with synchronized breaths. Host was the first to move, forcing the teacup out of existence and moving his hand to comb through the strands of Darks hair.

Thunder from outside shook them, but together they were steady. Familiar, warm. Home.