thread: dayton and hemlock Who: Hemlock and Dayton What: REUNIONS Where: Food tent When: Night, Thursday, March 7 Warnings? No Status: Complete
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With each day that passed, these grounds became a little more like a home. There were no hedge mazes for the children to play in, or animal shaped topiaries to gaze upon. No greenhouse to lounge in or tend to. No lavish great hall or winding staircases, corridors lined with oil paintings of old ancestors that led to a myriad of rooms. No. It was simpler out here. Once upon a time he would’ve perhaps considered many of the lot here to be commoners. Unworthy of his presence. But now he walked among them as if he had belonged since the beginning of the age.
Astrid had been kind enough to assist him in his attire. Once threadbare and filled with holes, Dayton now bore layers with patches sewn by a delicate yet crafted prowess. There weren’t enough flowers in the world he could offer to her to show the mountain of appreciation. Not much could’ve been done for the travesty that was his shoes, but fortunately Astrid had returned the laces to one of them so it could now function properly.
Dayton had just left his ride for a break when something in the air began to change. He couldn’t outright place it but being in tune with the earth he could sense her shifts. Gaia served as a good guide and Dayton was open to her spoken words as they were brought to him in symbols, relics, creatures. Her gospel was his truth.
It took a few steps to put distance between the carousel he’d grown so fond of and himself, but each footfall felt lighter. A hand would course through that wildly disheveled hair and he took a moment to pause near the Hall of Mirrors to check his appearance. A bright and charming smile amidst the stubble and growth, “Yes, yes you’re still very fine,” he assured himself. And then Dayton pressed on with the intent of grabbing something from the food tent before resuming his perch. The shift for the evening was coming to a close and while he had no immediate plans for entertainment, he was bound to run into something.
The cirque was loud and bright and everything Hemlock liked best. Standing very still as a job would be an absolute delight for someone like him. So many fun things to look at and smells to smell and people to listen to! Except that would come the next night. For now he was still getting settled, still sussing and fussing and avoiding the deep internal pull towards one specific man that had started as soon as he’d stepped on the grounds.
It was deliberate, of course. Isaac had told Hemlock that his witch was with the cirque as well, and Hemlock hadn’t run to him then either. He was holding off because he could, and because he was still a little confused and incensed to have been separated from him in the first place. He knew that once he decided to reestablish their connection it would take another cruel act to sever it again—and if Dayton did that he might lash out and do something wild like…well, he’d figure it out then, but likely an event involving kneecaps.
The night was almost over before Hemlock couldn’t stand it anymore. He stomped out of his new little dwelling and in the straightest line he could for his witch. He had to see him! Maybe shake him! And know once and for all!
By the time he passed the carousel he moved along at a quick trot, increasing in speed the closer he felt himself come to Dayton. Once he zeroed in on that familiar back of head disappearing into the food tent he turned on the turbo, moving as fast as his wooden legs would carry him towards his witch. Once he was close enough, he launched himself.
Hemlock was mid-air when he realised that he hadn’t really thought about what to say to Dayton or how to reveal himself properly. All that came out as he sailed towards his witch was a strangled, “You!”
Dayton sensed something. There was a soft buzzing feeling in his blood, his bones vibrated. For a second he had a false hope that … no. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be so lucky to have a piece of home here that wasn’t upset and brooding. But before he could turn around to see what was coming at him, Dayton found himself being jarred by an impact. A stumble, and amidst the gawks of those once dining in the tent, his feet planted themselves and a bit of a pinwheel had him upright.
“What the devil?” But he recognized that scent anywhere. Age. Earth. Time. The literal seasons. “Hem!?”
Arms would tug the fae into a strong squeeze. Laughter spilled from his lips and he bounced up and down in those blown out shoes with Hemlock tucked in against himself. Oh, what a day this was indeed! “My precious friend! I never thought I would see you again!”
Two years had taken its toll. He was sure that there would be a landslide of questions that may not be appropriate for the food tent. But he was in no hurry at all to draw away. A piece of himself clicked back into place and the earth itself would have to rise up and challenge him if it thought anything would come between them again.
Precious friend.
Hemlock’s visions of being a cold presence that demanded answers before anything else evaporated the moment he was gathered up to Dayton. He threw his arms around the witch’s neck, laughing as they bounced and losing himself to the glee of the moment. It reminded him of times past, where Dayton’s presence meant fun and safety instead of the question mark it was now.
Except Dayton had obviously changed. He no longer smelled like the expensive soaps and colognes Hemlock previously associated with him. The shirt his rough fingertips scrabbled against felt flimsy. Hemlock leaned back and stared up into Dayton’s face, eyes searching for answers. Questions and observations and demands all crashed into each other, leaving him doing a vague impression of a goldfish as his mouth opened and closed a few times.
“I thought I’d see you again. Until I didn’t. And now I am,” he managed eventually, marveling internally at how Dayton had revealed himself at the precise moment Hemlock decided he was done looking.
It was funny the way those things worked. How fate aligned in just the right moment without you knowing it. They’d come into each others paths long ago when Dayton needed something added into his life and now, again, under the same but different pretenses here was Hemlock - that small savior of the forest to remind him of all of the things he was meant to be and those same things he’d left behind.
“And I am so glad that you are here, my friend. I’ve been so lost for the past two years, and just when I needed you the most here you are!”
Gently he set Hem down. “Are you hungry? I was planning to get something for myself. My shift at the carousel is nearly over but I think the person they have standing in for me is fine to continue on.” He wanted to catch up, to rekindle.
If anyone deserved to know what happened it was Hem.
Hemlock nodded despite not being very hungry. Now that he had Dayton in his sights it seemed prudent to keep him there, locked on with laser sharp focus in case the witch decided to fade into the wind again. Two years was long enough for Dayton’s presence to feel strange as they went about collecting food. He’d known Dayton in some respect for the witch’s entire life. To suddenly have a gap in his knowledge made his shoulders stiffer than normal when they sat to eat.
He didn’t touch his food right away. He started asking questions instead, having held them in until they could be sitting across from each other by some unknowable act of God. “Where did you go? Why do you look poor? Why did you run away to the circus without me?”
Things appeared on his tray with little regard to what they exactly were. That was how he had ended up with (albeit strange looks) half of a hotdog slathered in chili, cheese fries and pickles. “Oh my.” The tray clattered against the small table and he settled heavily on the plastic bench. His too white fork pronged absently at the plate of things. Suddenly he wasn’t as hungry anymore. He reflected back on the times he and Isaac overtook the kitchen, learned to prepare small meals before being shooed out by the staff.
“Eugenia.” Dayton heaved a sigh. It was the answer he had to all of those quick questions. “I have been robbed of a lot of things, Hem. My clothes. My life. My heritage. I even ran off the into brother that I’ve ever had and her poison is still deeply embedded in my veins. I had nowhere to go. No way to reach you.” He would have if he could. He would’ve taken Hemlock with him wherever it was his feet were carrying him.
“What journey have you been on?” While Hemlock might not have been surprised to hear the name of Dayton’s wife, he did not react. There was no I told you so because Hemlock had never meddled in their relationship. Dayton was his witch, but not his, and the man had clearly been smitten with the woman in ways Hemlock didn’t understand. It wasn’t his place to interfere even if he was unhappy with the way Dayton had become—or so he’d thought.
He reached across the table to turn one of Dayton’s wrists skyward and eyed the flesh there with a critical eye.
Then he shrugged. “I don’t see any poison.” Whatever had happened had left Dayton depleted in spirit (and bank account), but there wasn’t anything tangible gnawing on him now.
Statement made, Hemlock folded his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. “I woke up in a thrift store. They wanted to sell me for 3.99.” He still wasn’t sure if that was a good price or not for his second, even smaller form, but he carried on without comment. “You were gone. Everything was withered. I found a witch. He carried me places. Gave me to other witches who carried me places. I never felt you.”
Hemlock’s own fries (picked because Dayton had, of course) were poked at now, one of them finally disappearing into his maw. “Until here.” Here at the cirque, where they’d all seemingly gathered. Well, maybe not all. His brow furrowed suddenly.
“Is she here?”
“Mental poison,” Dayton murmured. His hand rolled over at Hemlock’s beckoning. “She is a tainted woman who was only after my fortune.” It hurt to utter it aloud. That ‘you look poor’ had also stung him but he didn’t hold that honesty against Hemlock. There hadn’t been times in his existence when he hadn’t considered Hemlock for a partner but Eugenia dominated all parts and aspects of his life and nothing had ever come of it.
Each step taken from the closed gates of the Ashcroft estate was a freedom he didn’t think he would’ve known otherwise. The transgressions that happened weren’t to be spoken of here. But he could now be more himself outside of her hold.
That was the same question that Isaac had asked, but with less venom. And, Dayton would give the same answer. “Do you feel her?”
He chuckled, “you are worth far more than $3.99, Hemlock. There is no price anyone could ever put on you. And I am so sorry you had to journey so far. I wish I had been stronger.”
“No,” Hemlock answered quietly, “I don’t.”
Eugenia wasn’t near. And even if she had been, Hemlock wasn’t sure what he would’ve done.
Staring across the table at Dayton, Hemlock thought about what he wanted. Perhaps in the past he’d imagined shouting. Going on a tirade. Demanding apologies and groveling. But now he was here, and Dayton was a shadow of the man he’d been before. Apologies and accolades had already been given freely.
Maybe he should’ve been less passive Back Then. It might have saved both of them years of trouble. Hemlock hummed lowly to himself. There was nothing saying he couldn’t start now.
“You’re not going to leave me again,” he announced, emphasizing this by stabbing the air with another fry. “You’re going to take better care of me…and I’ll take better care of you.”
Mental poison, Dayton had said. They’d have to work on that.
No. Thankfully no. Eugenia was long gone, sitting on her throne of money and lies searching for her next victim. There was peace here for a moment and a lot of work to be done to rebuild the things he’d burnt down unknowingly.
Like with Isaac, Dayton had expected more out of Hem regarding the things that transpired two years ago but he was glad to not have to defend himself. A fry would find its way into his mouth and he chewed thoughtfully as Hemlock began to speak.
“They’ll have to pry you from my corpse,” Dayton mused. “I won’t let anyone come between us again.” Not even Eugenia. “Where are you staying? Would you care to live with me?” He had a bed of his own that Hem could share or there was a pull out on the small couch in the tiny living area. “Whatever you need you know that I will give if I can.” Now that Hemlock was back, the priority was keeping the fae satisfied and happy, which in turn would help Dayton flourish. They needed to be sympatico.
“I have a house!” Hemlock chirped excitedly, if not a little smugly. The dilapidated, mushroom-shaped hut had everything a man like him could want in a private space. Soft surfaces. Sturdy cabinets. Good windowsills.
But he could not deny that the idea of being close to Dayton was appealing. They could talk like they used to, laugh like they used to. His gaze slid towards the entrance of the food tent, wondering how Isaac would factor into all of this. That could wait until later, though. Hemlock was content to focus on the man in front of him and explore this new possibility of being bossy when it came to his witch.
“I’ll stay with you tonight anyway,” he nodded, firm. “And you can tell me where you’ve been. What you’ve done.” Satisfied with himself, he nodded again. “You should eat more, too. You look…different. Less.”
While Dayton didn’t care much for Hemlock having his own place considering the length of time they’d been apart, the fae looked far too pleased with the notion for Dayton to smush the idea down. He supposed that having a private space was a good thing - Hem likely would want a spot to retreat to now and then and how could Dayton say no to that infectious positivity? “I’d love to see it some time!”
But that assurance they’d at least be together that night helped ease the discomfort. “I’ll make sure that you get the best spot.” There was an alcove loft above the kitchen area with an array of comfortable blankets and sheets to nestle into.
‘You look different. Less.’ He sighed heavily and stuffed a few fries into his mouth. “I’ve tried to keep up my routine,” he murmured, “but it’s challenging to keep yourself fit when you’re on the road.” Finding places to work out posed more of a challenge than trying to find a place to sleep.
He had considered seeking out a space to get back into shape but he hadn’t yet acted on it. Likewise, somewhere to get a trim and to rid himself of that awful stubble.
“It’s alright.” Hemlock’s brows furrowed at the sigh and excuses that came after it. “I’m here now.” And Isaac, but again…that was trouble for another day. “I’ve decided to be bossy,” he said, as casually as one commented on the weather. “Now that we’re together again.”
It was incredibly easy to be so, he’d already decided. He’d drag Dayton to see his mushroom hut before they retired to his witch’s. Where Dayton had mentioned getting Hemlock the best spot in the house, but Hemlock knew he’d likely end up near Dayton anyway. Probably rotating between his two favourite sleeping positions: curled into a small ball, or taking up as much of the mattress as he could. It would be no one but Dayton’s fault for inviting him in.
Hemlock felt highly optimistic about their prospects going forward. It would take some time to get completely back in step with each other. And for Dayton to feel and look less…less. Hemlock saw no reason why none of it couldn’t be overcome.
He sat and watched Dayton eat for a moment, eyes moving between food and witch as if to make sure it found its intended destination. “Things will be alright now. Don’t you think so?”
“Have you now?” Dayton chuckled softly as Hemlock made the declaration that he would be taking the reins. It wasn’t a bad idea and not like Hem hadn’t stepped up before in a few past situations.
Slumbering in the same space with Hem wasn’t exactly new; he hadn’t done it in a while and so he was remembering the ebb and flow of the motions of sleep when put together. Extra blankets, sleep fully clothed. There was a blanket thief on the loose but he wasn’t going do much protesting. Not when things had begun to look up.
Hungrier than he’d thought, Dayton soon rendered the contents of the plastic tray gone. He wiped his mouth, made sure nothing went astray in his facial hair, and then he nodded. “I do. Now that you’re here I feel like the sun is finally shining down upon me again.” That things would start to settle back into place. He had no intent on losing Hem, and once he found his own bearings things with his brother also required mending. He wasn’t yet sure, though, how much forgiveness he could lend out but that remained to be seen.
“I think I have consumed enough for one evening. Shall we retire to some place more private?” They had a lot of catching up to do.
Hemlock was on his feet no sooner than the question was out of Dayton's mouth. “Yes!”
They had a lot to do. They had to visit his hut, and then settle in at Dayton’s. Hemlock had plans that involved holding the witch down and attacking the disheveled mop atop his head with a comb at the very least. Perhaps once Dayton was a little more put together he'd feel that way, too.
When their trays were sorted Hemlock reached out a hand for Dayton to take. He looked up at the taller man, expression one of open joy. Yes, things would be alright now. “I have so many questions.”