Apéritif

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

Finn is at a feast.

This isn't strictly true, of course - Finn is asleep in bed with Tobi, having taken a concoction of medicine to ensure he gets a few hours of solid rest - but here in the valley of his dreams, that doesn't count.

Here the table is laden with meat, pink and glistening and bejewelled by blood and pomegranate seeds, with honey soaked vegetables and sticky buns and crackling that would melt on one's tongue in only a moment. Piles of fruit sit polished and waxy, finished by sprigs of mint and soaked by ice to keep them cool.

And at the head of the table in this warm and rustic hall, Finn sits against a chair lined by deep red velvet, his plate empty, a glass of champagne in his hand. There's an eyeball floating in his drink, but he hasn't seemed to notice just yet.

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

Remi is on his way to a feast.

This isn't strictly true, of course—Remi is asleep in bed with Ronin, having happily passed out after a day of wandering beneath the sun with his (much) better half—and though his waking mind slipped off contentedly, his subconscious remains restless.

In a world of cast shadows and dusky jewel tones, Remi walks a path beneath cherry blossom trees that stretch their limbs towards the moon like men and women trying to relieve stiff muscles. They are all of them hollowed out, their bowels replaced with breathtaking smears of colour from a wide assortment of deadly plants. Their roots have been carefully soaked, however, that they might grow despite having so much of their vitality carved out.

An odd number of eyes watch as the alchemist passes, looking up at him from between stones and down from where they cluster on the leaves, like so many drops of dew.

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

Tapping his heel against one of his chair legs, Finn tilts his head back to empty the contents of his champagne glass into his mouth, enjoying the sparkle of the liquid on his tongue. Distantly he thinks he can hear the sound of drums or footsteps; Remi's approach threatens to crack the sky overhead into dark shards, sending them raining down upon the feast.

At the bottom of the flute sits the eyeball, faded denim iris staring back up at the Spyglass. "Hello," he says to it, before his head tips back a second time to drink (eat?) that up as well.

Finn doesn't know what possesses him to do such a thing - perhaps it will taste wonderful, since the rest of the feast seems so tempting. But no matter the reason that his dream spins up, he does bite down on the eyeball with a crunch that feels as though it echoes just as loudly as the footsteps.

It tastes like clear spring water, though the texture is as if he's biting into an onion. Finn swallows and sets down his glass. "No more Eye."

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

The pupils that watch the Lullaby as he walks along their path suddenly all widen, turning in unison towards Finn as his teeth pop the Eye's eye like a grape. Without skin, or eyelashes or eyebrows it's impossible to tell if the fluid that glistens across their surfaces are tears of sadness or laughter.

The trees part like a boil lanced open, masking the scent of honey-broiled sweetness with the smell of raw meat and blood. Remi's mouth waters, and though he pauses as soon as he sees Finn, he can feel the predators that lurk within his veins forcing themselves forward like disobedient ghosts.

As always the sight of Finn stirs up complex emotions such that the various blossoms on the trees abruptly wither, die, and then bloom again with petals made of teeth and eyelashes instead of pollen. "Are..you here?" Remi wonders. At his back the trees twist and straighten, their bodies feigning confidence where none exists.

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

In so many iterations of themselves, Finn has been afraid of Remi in these situations. He's stretched himself thin across the swell of his own sanity; he's played hero and villain and everywhere in between; he's brandished knives and submerged himself in ink, letting it stain his tongue and creep beneath his eyelids. But as the Lullaby appears now, stepping through parted trees like stitches that have popped open, Finn feels nothing like fear.

It's a complicated mix of emotions to be sure. But it isn't fear any more.

For all the macabre nature of this dream, it is still a dream by the Spyglass's standards. They are not in nightmare territory yet, but perhaps Remi's presence will give it the delightful shove it needs. "I don't know," he confesses, reaching for a bottle of red wine this time, refilling his glass.

"I suppose I might be dreaming about you. It wouldn't be the first time." Narrowing his eyes, he tilts his head at Remi. "...But I don't think that is the case, this time."

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

Remi's eyes move with predatory precision towards the wine, not for the first time imagining what Finn's vintage would taste like. He wants to be the sort of man for whom such a thought would turn his stomach, but of course he isn't. Not in the waking world and certainly not in a dream. Closing his eyes the alchemist is suddenly at Finn's side, seated on his right, staring at an empty plate.

"I did not mean to come." Remi says in a voice just above a whisper; however softly said, the blossoms of the trees turn maliciously toward the sound of his voice, blooming with betrayal. Their teeth are not for show.

The napkin held within a golden ring next to the plate is bloodied, and had it not been for that, Remi might have just pushed his chair back and excused him. Blinking at it slowly, the alchemist flinches minutely as he reaches out with his broken hand to touch the dark stains. "I am sorry, Finn...for everything I have ever been to you."

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

"Are we lying to each other in this one?" Finn wonders, raising stormy eyes to gaze at Remi as he pops up beside him, and he reaches out to pour the other man some wine as well. "I don't believe either of us ever meet by accident. And I do not believe either of us are ever really sorry. Not for long, anyway." Finn lifts his glass to his lips, leaving them red stained. "This is normally the part where you become hostile towards me."

He gazes up at the snapping teeth and fluttering eyelashes overhead, then back down at the mirror-shine of their empty plates. "The things that October said to you... I will not apologise for her," he says. They stand together on that much, do he and the doctor. "But I know that it does not stop the things you want." How could it, to a man with no physical superior? With no consequences, save for the ones people put on him?

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

'We will always have to lie about some things." Remi replies with the sort of sadness that comes from being realistic. Considering Finn's words as the fingers of his good hand softly pinch the stem of his wine glass, the Lullaby bites the inside of his cheek to catch the words that want to race by his tongue so that he can replace them with others. "Then maybe it is time to stop being sorry, and start being different." So it is that Remi pulls his hand back into his lap without tasting the wine.

Remi's eyelashes shiver as if having heard something very loud; such instincts even a man as strong as the alchemist is helpless to deny. "I would not ask you to." A grinding sound of teeth grates with a low hum, strong enough to cause some of the silverware to vibrate. Looking up into the trees, deadly but not as beautiful as Remi might once have thought them to be, the alchemist stares for just a moment before his eyes close. The bark of the trees gnarls and twists, glistening like sweat-soaked skin before turning to ash. Formless the trees fall as the sigh of sediment dulls the shine of canines and incisors that would otherwise glisten up at them. The petals are the last to fall, descending in a pristmatic array before being reduced to the nothing colour of old rainwater.

"You should hang the dreamcatcher."

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

"Outside of dreams, perhaps," Finn agrees, running his tongue along his lower lip and sinking back in his seat to watch the trees wither and turn to ash, even as the sound of grinding teeth reverberates through his bones and makes his fingernails itch. "To start being different," he repeats, and the frown on his face is thoughtful. "I have become different, since we first met. Have you?"

The fact that they are sitting here now and having this conversation is evidence enough, of that, though as the ashes sink and colour as they land on the ground, cliffs begin to yawn and rise in their place. "What dreamcatcher?" he asks - for he never received the charming gift Remi made for him. It was lost in another dream, when he was flying so high that reality was nothing more than a speck.

"Oh," Finn says suddenly, starting to deftly unbutton his shirt. "How rude. We are late for dinner." With his shirt open, he plucks up his knife - and gently, with sure and steady fingers, begins to slice into his sternum. Flaying the skin and muscle back and ignoring the deep crimson that soaks his front, he deposits a juicy strip of flesh onto Remi's plate.

"No need to wait for me. It will take some time to get to the core of myself."

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

Remi has no idea how to answer Finn's question, and so he smiles at the sheen on his empty plate. "I do not remember meeting you, so I cannot say." He replies at last, wondering if the ash would turn to quicksand beneath his feet if he tried to turn and leave. Raising his eyes now, bewildered and incredulous, Remi's eyebrows pinch together as he stares into his twin's face, trying to see through the deception. "The one I promised you. I brought it to you. In the room with the wooden floors and the fireplace." He explains. "The dreamcatcher that keeps me from your dreams."

What happens next has Remi vibrating with restraint and anticipation in his seat. Much as he tries to forbid himself from moving, he can't quite help the minuscule twitches of his lips, the tensing of the skin around his eyes, or the way his muscles flex and shiver with adrenaline. The smell of meat dilates his pupils and wets his tongue while the sight of blood has heat flushing between his legs. Obediently, perhaps, Remi fixes his gaze on his plate only to find the sterile whiteness rudely but perfectly disturbed.

Breathing in shallow pants through his nose, one of Remi's hands reaches tentatively towards his fork, before settling on the napkin instead. "It would be rude to start without you." With his other hand, suddenly incorporeal, Remi reaches inside of himself and begins to search. It takes a moment before he finds what he's looking for, and with the sound of tearing fabric, the Lullaby presents his counterpart with his liver. "To process the poison."

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

Finn considers that - because Remi has definitely met him, he remembers seeing him for the first time outside the Governor's House in Torchline - but when he really thinks about it... "I suppose not. Not many people have met me," he agrees. "Would you like to start now?" Were it not for the steps he's taken, the man he's become, this of course would never be possible.

"Cian's office?" That is the only room with wooden floors and a fireplace that comes to mind. "He is dead. I never met you there, though, I don't think. You and I have never been there together." The conversation continues as Finn begins to carve stubbornly into his breastbone, having to make a few further lacerations in order to get his fingers beneath it.

"Mm...?" He huffs out the sound, which is punctuated by a loud and echoing crack as he splits the bone. "How kind of you." Leaving his chest so his ribs stand like a pair of open cupboard doors, Finn slices delicately into the liver on his plate, raising the morsel in a toast. "To being different," he says, lifting it to his lips and chewing appreciatively.

"If you give me a moment, I will have my heart out."

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

Would he? Glancing down at the ground where not a single flower remains, Remi exhales softly. Had he not been so rash to destroy his overtures of violence he might have used one of the blooms to make this decision; he loves me, he loves me not. "Either...I will know you and regard you just as I do now with all of its implications...or I will find you uninteresting, and hate you for it." Remi says eventually.

Raising an eyebrow, Remi can only shrug. 'Then it is here, somewhere. Still in the dream.' Watching appreciatively as Finn negotiates his bones, Remi swallows thickly. "Let me know if you would like some help." He says, of bifurcating Finn's ribs.

The subsequent crack renders his offer useless, leaving Remi with nothing to do save for considering the flesh before him. Despite the protests of his stomach and the growing pressure in the front of his pants, the alchemist's fingers were still thoughtful upon his fork despite how they screams to clench and stab and taste. "Can you really do that?" Remi wonders suddenly. "Is it even your heart to give?"

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

the spyglass

I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun

"What you choose to think of me is none of my business," Finn points out as he carves up another chunk of Remi's liver, letting it melt on his tongue. Processing poison is never something the Spyglass will turn down, though he does raise his eyebrows as he realised his own strip of flesh remains untouched. "I thought we agreed we would not be rude," he remarks. Overhead the cliffs continue to climb, and the feast, plump and tempting, remains before them both.

"The offer is there," he says, leaving it up to Remi to pursue or leave things as they lay. And if he is aware of the painful mix of violence and arousal in his compatriot, he navigates it as casually as anything else in the dream. "Of course I can," Finn says of his heart, smiling as if they are sharing a joke. "And of course it is mine to give. All of me belongs to all of me. It is mine to do with as I wish. Besides, I am only offering you a taste."

So saying, the knife comes up again and Finn reaches within himself, carefully extracting a small but not insignificant amount of his right ventricle. "I feel as though people think I am soft-hearted, but I suppose this will be the real test. Perhaps I will be tender."

now all my stories have been told; except for one

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

& doesn't the white page seem unfinished
without the dark stain of alphabets?

Remi hisses in a breath as if bracing for a slap. 'Maybe not. But I have been warned to keep away from you, Finn. And what you choose to show me might make that very difficult." Indeed, waking up with images of Finn's open ribcage sparkling like the cavernous inside of a pomegranate was going to follow him like a melody during his waking hours.

"When do we ever agree?" Remi wonders rhetorically, and it's with a sad resignation that his fingers do tighten around his fork. Beads of sweat the colour of dusk drip down from one temple as the Lullaby's lips part quite without his permission at the sight of Finn's heart. A moan slips from his lips before Remi has the sense to clench his teeth together. "October and Everest...they have no claim to your heart, then? Whatever you give to me, you take from them." Gods, but he can't resist; reaching out with his fingers, Remi plucks the sloping purple muscle. "Is there really so much of you to go around?"

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)