called a problem child
cause i got too wild
Snow glare stings even through my hood, and I’m pretty sure my bones have learned to speak fluent icicle. I’ve spent days mapping the Citadel by instinct and stubbornness—either getting lost on purpose, stealing hours with Damien, or “coincidentally” ending up wherever my mother has APPARENTLY decided to follow me. I pretend to hate the hovering…but after years of it being just us, I can’t deny the comfort of that thread tugging warm between us. I miss it.cause i got too wild
From the outside, the Monster Hunters’ guildhall could pass for a nice, rustic inn—so normal I almost keep walking. Then I shoulder open the big doors and winter slams shut; heat rushes my face, and lanternlight settles everything into a soft, honey glow. The hearth roars like a living thing. Definitely not an inn.
No one’s in the main hall. My boots hush over wood worn deep by a thousand hunts. The place smells like smoke, oiled leather, and old steel—like stories stacked to the ceiling. Long tables wait like patient giants for the next briefing or feast. The walls are crowded with trophies: a hooked beak as long as my forearm, polished plates of chitin, a pelt with a bite mark the size of my palm.
I drift to the fire, tugging my oversized jacket tighter around me. The sleeves swallow my hands to the knuckles; melted snow freckles the shoulders and drips from the heavy hem. I hold my bundled fists to the heat until pins and needles spark back into my fingers.
Warm again, I wander, eyes drinking in everything like I’ve been starved. Maybe this could be a second home. I back up, craning to take in the vaulted beams shouldering the north—and—
I back into a wall.
A very solid, very warm, very breathing wall.
I yelp, hop forward on instinct, and spin, half-raising my hands like I might apologize to a load-bearing post. Not a post. Deimos. Of course it’s Deimos—quiet gravity and muscle, the kind of presence that makes a room feel smaller and safer at once.
I’m a little breathless, heat rushing my face for a different reason now. Fucking humiliating. ”Oh—Deimos! Sorry. The ceiling and I were having a moment and I lost the fight with basic spatial awareness.” I push my sleeves back enough to show actual hands. ”No injuries—unless we’re counting my pride.”
but now that's how i'm getting paid
Theea
