Chapter Text
In the decades of living amongst humans, Flins had grown fond of them and became more accustomed to their way of living. So much that he acquired his own likes and dislikes that were common with humans.
Flins particularly liked Fire-Water and the feeling of how it smoothes down in his throat. For him, this alcoholic drink gave the impression of warming up the very depths of a soul, especially when it was tired or in need of comfort.
He also disliked food, which he believed was also not common in humans. When it comes to non-food things though, there was something he didn’t like that he shared with some people.
Flins hated doing reports.
He would rather fight endless Wild Hunt hordes all day and all night rather than write those damn reports that take up most of his time, especially when it comes to doing his hobbies. He never understood why he (and all the Lightkeepers) had to write detailed reports of every Wild Hunt incident that he encountered, when these could’ve been discussed in meetings instead.
(Though he also wasn’t fond of those meetings that lasted for hours when he could be doing his skeleton jigsaw puzzles or cleaning his gemstones.)
Nevertheless, Flins had no choice but to comply because it was part of his duties as a Lightkeeper. There were just days when he wasn’t in the mood to write these reports.
Today was one of those days.
The Wild Hunt has been more rampant recently compared to a few months ago. It made things difficult for the Lightkeepers since they were already short-staffed and spread thin. Sometimes, Flins would volunteer himself in eradicating the monsters in other places that they couldn’t cover. He did that today and then attended a meeting afterwards, which ran for more than an hour.
Flins was on his way to his home in the Final Night Cemetery. As a fae, he had high stamina and seldom got exhausted. But for some reason, as he stepped on the island, he felt the exhaustion and fatigue wash over him. Flins just wanted to enter the lighthouse and do his skeleton jigsaw puzzles.
Flins, you can do your reports at the lighthouse. Then, submit them tomorrow at the latest noon.
Nikita’s voice echoed in his head. His face scrunched up at the thought of spending the whole night writing reports, especially when covered a lot of areas that day. Flins sighed as he went up to his study and settled down on the table. He took out the papers and pen from the drawer and dropped them on the table.
It was going to be a long, tiring day.
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The Final Night Cemetery was always a place filled with darkness, gloom, and silence. If people from Nasha Town came here, they would feel like their life was being sucked away.
Not for Flins. In a way, he called it his home as this was where he rested, “slept”, and did his hobbies. Despite the deadly silence and gloom, it was a tranquil place for him since he had been used to being alone for centuries.
Today was the same as any other quiet day. The only sound filling the room was the drag of Flins’ pen on paper as he continuously scribbled. It had been three hours since he started. But despite having a thick pile of finished reports on his side, Flins felt he wasn’t even half done with everything. He sighed as he questioned again WHY these reports were necessary when they just had a meeting about everything that happened.
A few minutes had passed and another heavy sigh escaped his lips. Suddenly, he heard hushed tones and a series of murmurs around him. He stopped writing and listened, thinking he might be hearing things when it should’ve just been a normal quiet day.
However, the noises didn’t stop, so Flins focused on them. It took awhile, but he finally realized that the hushed murmurs came from…the ghosts living in the cemetery. Then it dawned on him.
The ghosts were actually talking and having conversations with each other.
Huh. Strange indeed.
The reason dead silence filled the island was due to the ghosts always having worlds of their own. And they never made any noises or conversations that were loud enough even for Flins to hear.
Who would go here at this time?
Never mind that. Who would actually go here?
It’s a miracle that man found this island. Did the lighthouse guide him?
But no one ever comes here. So it’s a surprise that someone is actually coming. Good thing he has a boat.
What is he coming here for anyway?
Flins’ immediately put his pen down and stood up, taking his lantern from the table and summoning his polearm. He ran down the stairs, ready to face the…intruder of his island.
One of the ghosts was right: no one ever came here. The fact that they conversed meant it was true. Just like Flins, they were probably wondering who the outsider was. However, anybody who stepped on his island without any warning or permission from him was considered an intruder. When he stepped out of the lighthouse, he proceeded with caution.
The murmurs disappeared as he approached the shore and Flins felt the ghosts disperse into their own resting places. As the boat slowly got nearer, he could make out a burly silhouette amidst the fog surrounding the island. Just as Flins was about to shine his lantern forward, with his polearm pointing in front of him, he heard a voice.
“Hellooo! Anybody there?!” A bellowing voice echoed throughout the island, which vibrated the ground a bit. The silhouette got closer and Flins stood in defense.
“Who are you?” The Lightkeeper said fiercely as the boat stopped at the island’s shore. “Show yourself! What is your purpose here?”
“Huh? ‘Show yourself?’” The other man was quiet for a moment before Flins heard a groan. Then he spoke again. “OH! You can’t see me yet! Damn this fog!” The lightkeeper saw the silhouette get off the boat. “Man, how can you see through this fog, it’s so thick.” Suddenly, the voice changed from the bellowing tone earlier to something akin to gentle yet lively. “Anyway, I’ll be there in a sec. I’ll introduce myself properly once we both can see each other clearly.”
Despite the gentle voice, Flins didn’t let his guard down. He still pointed his polearm and lantern to the silhouette of the burly man slowly walking towards him in big steps. Eventually, he caught a glimpse of blond hair.
Finally, after a few seconds, he emerged from the fog and the lightkeeper couldn’t help but stare.
He was faced with an extremely tall and muscular man. It was still a bit dark. But thanks to his lantern, Flins saw him wearing a black shirt, gray pants, and black knee-high boots. As the man got closer, he finally saw the messy blond hair that reached until the top of his shoulders. In addition, Flins saw scars, namely a big one on his neck and a smaller scar on the right side of his face.
Upon closer inspection, Flins noticed that he was drenched wet from head to toe and he guessed it was due to the water splashing onto him when he rowed the boat towards the island. Sometimes, the waves around the cemetery would get nasty.
As his yellow eyes roamed all over the man, Flins noticed that his wet black shirt and gray pants stuck to his skin. And since the shirt was fitted, the lightkeeper couldn’t help but trace the outline of his muscular chest, abs, and big thighs with his eyes. Flins glanced at the man’s arms, which glistened into the brightness of his lantern and saw some water droplets sliding on a scar and skin.
Hmmm…this is a man full of strength and endurance. He thought as he unconsciously swallowed a lump in his throat.
But what made Flins stare longer at the man were his striking blue eyes. It deeply reminded him of his most precious gem: the Tear of the North, a brilliant ice-blue gemstone that looked transparent, but stood out amongst the numerous gems in his collection.
Just like the man in front of him, who stood out in the foggy, gloomy, and dark atmosphere of the Final Night Cemetery with his bright aura.
Flins could say that he was mesmerized.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there! No need to point that at me. I come in peace.”
The lightkeeper was broken from his reverie with the voice. As he blinked a few times, he realized what the man meant and looked down at this polearm, which was still pointing towards him together with his lantern. He also suddenly noticed that its flames were burning brighter than usual, filling their surroundings and the lightkeeper with a vivid blue aura.
“W-wow…” The man in front of him said softly and breathlessly. That was Flins’ cue to clear his throat. He lowered his polearm and clipped the lantern on his hip.
“My apologies. I was merely proceeding with caution.” Flins said as he gave the man a small smile. “The island rarely gets visitors. And when your arrival made the ghosts chatter continuously to no end, I had to see what the commotion was all about.”
“G-Ghosts…?” The man stuttered.
“Why, yes. You are aware that you are in the Final Night Cemetery. I assumed you knew this before coming here.”
“Uhm…” He scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin. “To be honest, I didn’t. I just saw the lighthouse and immediately followed it.”
Flins frowned. Huh. Why would he follow it in the first place? Unless he is in need of something urgent. He decided to ask his earlier question again.
“Who are you? And what is your purpose here?”
“OH! Yes, I’m sorry. I said I’ll introduce myself properly.” The man said. He held out his hand and gave Flins a bright, toothy smile. “I’m Varka, pleased to meet you.”
Flins couldn’t help but let his guard down a bit the moment he saw that…wholesome smile. “Hello Mr. Varka. Pleased to meet you too.” He shook Varka’s hand, which felt…wet. “My name is Flins.” The blond man’s smile grew bigger as he shook back Flins’ hand.
So bright. Flins thought as he became dazzled with Varka’s even brighter smile.
“Hi, Mr. Flins! I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion on your island. I…was just wandering nearby when monsters suddenly appeared. My luggage was knocked over in a battle with them and my boat was filled with water. So, I’d like to ask if I can borrow some supplies?”
“Oh. Is that all?”
“Yeah. I really didn’t mean to intrude. And I won’t take long.”
Flins studied Varka, who placed his hand at the back of his neck in apology. He was still a bit wary of the outsider because he had a strong feeling Varka was not telling the whole truth. There was something more than he let on, especially on the part of wandering nearby and battling monsters.
At the same time though, Flins felt the sincerity in Varka’s apology, as well as the distress in his voice when he talked about losing his luggage. A part of him wanted to trust Varka and let him borrow the rations in the lighthouse. After all, Flins didn’t use them much and he was afraid they might just go to waste.
He still had his guard up though. But Flins would trust his instincts and take Varka’s word for it.
“Alright, I wouldn’t mind. I just stocked more supplies, so I have a lot of extra.”
“Really?!” Varka exclaimed. “Wow, thank you! I promise that when I get supplies at Nasha Town, I will return your stock.”
Flins shook his head. “There is no need for that, Mr. Varka. I still have a lot of supplies that will last me for more weeks.”
“What?! Nonsense! I will definitely return them as soon as possible.”
Flins wanted to insist that Varka didn’t really have to return the borrowed supplies. But something told him that no matter what he said, the blond man would also insist that he’d return his stock. Somehow, Flins found it endearing. He chuckled softly.
“Alright then, if you insist, Mr. Varka.”
“Well then, Mr. Flins. Lead the way.”
++++++++
The walk towards the lighthouse was a quiet one, which was unexpected for Flins. In their brief conversation by the shore, Flins’ saw Varka as someone who talked a lot. However, at that moment, he was very quiet. The lightkeeper glanced behind him and saw that Varka’s blue eyes roamed around, as if studying and observing his surroundings. It reminded Flins of himself and his fellow lightkeepers when they were on patrol.
Hmmmm…curious.
“Say, Mr. Varka, if you don’t mind me asking. What brings you to the area outside of Final Night Cemetery? You said you were wandering around before the monsters came.”
Varka immediately faced Flins with a smile on his face. “Oh, I was with my kn—friends and we were exploring the scenery.” Then he fell quiet. Flins waited for Varka to say more, but nothing came.
As they reached the steps, Flins asked. “Exploring? Oh, so you and your friends are tourists of Nod-Krai?”
“Oh. Yeah, you could say we’re tourists, Mr. Flins.” Varka said.
Just one-line answers, huh? What are you hiding, Varka?
At that point, Flins wanted to confront Varka and learn the truth. After all, he was bringing a stranger into the lighthouse. Despite its gloomy atmosphere and run-down look, it was still his abode. And a stranger shouldn't even get a glimpse of his personal space.
However, when he faced Varka, a hand was behind his neck and he looked apologetic again. Then he spoke up.
“Mr. Flins, I’m really sorry for taking up your time. I know you’re a busy man. I also understand that the lighthouse is your home and you don’t want a stranger to invade your personal space.” Varka said as he awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.” He gave Flins a small smile. “But if you ever allow me to borrow your supplies, I won’t take long. I’ll get what I need and then I’ll be on my way. And I’ll return what I borrowed. That is an oath. No, a promise.” Then, Varka did a hand salute over his chest.
Flins’ eyes widened at the words “oath” and “promise”, as he studied Varka’s face and stance.
As a lightkeeper, an oath and a promise were things that Flins held dear to his heart. This was due to his role as a keeper of memories for the fallen Lightkeepers of the Oath Lanterns, which served as markers of the Lightkeepers' vows. Flins would honor the solemn promises and oaths made by those who defended the land against the Wild Hunt by leaving flowers and tokens in their graves. For Flins, making an oath and a promise on his island was something that should not be taken lightly.
After hearing it from Varka, Flins knew he was serious. At that moment, the lightkeeper confirmed one thing: Varka was not a tourist or an ordinary man. He knew there was something more to him, but Flins wouldn’t force it out of him. He would just let things flow.
Indeed, he has piqued my interest.
“Oh? That’s a bold move, Mr. Varka.” Flins said with a small smile. “You should not take an oath or a promise too lightly. Especially here in the Final Night Cemetery.”
“I take my oaths and promises seriously, Mr. Flins.” Varka smirked. “You’ll see.”
“Mmmm.” Flins turned around as he walked to the lighthouse entrance. “This way, Mr. Varka. I will let you borrow the supplies that you need in a bit.”
++++++++
Once inside the lighthouse, Flins provided Varka a towel to dry himself off. Then he led him to the storage room. There, Flins allowed Varka to get whatever he needed without interrupting him. As the other man placed various supplies in an empty sack, Flins stared intently at his body movements.
He noticed Varka didn’t have a problem transferring big supplies, which meant that he was used to heavy lifting. The blond man also whistled a tune, giving Flins the impression that he might be a carefree and lighthearted person.
As Varka continued his task, Flins’ observations became a bit more detailed. Since the storage room was near the furnace, Varka started to perspire…A LOT. Flins noticed that his arms glistened due to sweat, which emphasized his muscles and scars.
Despite having dried off, Varka’s wet black shirt and gray pants were still stuck to his skin. Flins could make out broad shoulders, a chiseled chest, and defined abs that made him exhale. He glanced down to see thick, large thighs that tensed up whenever he bent down. While Flins studied Varka’s body movements, he could feel the air getting hotter by the second.
Then he glanced at Varka’s face, where beads of sweat formed on his forehead. A few of them slid down to his chin and neck. Lost in thought while staring, Flins unconsciously ran a tongue over his lips.
“Well, that’s about it.” Varka suddenly spoke up, breaking Flins’ trance. He blinked a few times before nodding at the blond man. “And don’t worry, I didn’t take a lot. You still have some extra that I’m sure will last you for weeks.”
The lightkeeper glanced at the sack Varka was holding. He noticed that it wasn’t full to the brim. “Are you sure these are enough for you, Mr. Varka? You can still get more. I assure you that I will survive.”
Varka chuckled. “Thanks for the offer, Mr. Flins. I appreciate it. But I’m all good. These are more than enough for me and…my friends.” He tied the sack with a rope and Flins watched as Varka did a few knots. Then, without warning, he lifted the sack and placed it on his shoulder. Before he could stop himself, Flins’ golden eyes darted on Varka’s sweaty, glistening arm and saw how the muscles flexed when he carried the sack.
As a fae, Flins didn’t have the need to breathe or feel any temperatures. But why did he feel hot and stuffed all of a sudden? And why did he let out a heavy exhale?
“Alright, that’s it for me, Mr. Flins. I won’t take much of your time.” Varka said as he turned around to exit the storage room. “I’ll be on my way.”
“Let me escort you until you reach your boat.”
“There’s no need for you to do that. I can manage on my own.”
“The fog is still thick out there. It is possible for you to get lost and not find your boat.” Flins said as he followed Varka out of the room. And I need some air. It’s all stuffy and hot here. “I insist, Mr. Varka.”
“Well, even if I say no, I feel you will still escort me.” Varka said as he shrugged. “Okay then. Thanks.”
As they walked to the shore, Flins heard Varka whistle the same tune earlier. He could feel at ease just by listening to it and he wondered if it’s connected to Varka’s hometown (because it was obvious he wasn’t from Nod-Krai). When they finally reached the shore, Flins faced the other man.
“This is where we depart, Mr. Varka.”
“Indeed. Thanks again, Mr. Flins. I truly appreciate the help.” Varka held out his hand and Flins immediately shook it. At that moment, he noticed that his hand became warm. It gave him comfort.
“You’re very welcome.”
“You have my word. I will return the borrowed supplies.” He gave Flins a big smile.
So bright again.
“I’ll hold on to that, Mr. Varka.” Flins said.
“Varka.”
“Hmmm?”
“There’s no need to be formal with me. You can just call me Varka.”
“Oh…I see.” Flins placed a hand on his chin as he debated whether to let Varka drop the formalities on his name or not. It didn’t take long for him to decide. “Well then. There is no need to be formal with me as well, Mr, I mean…Varka. Just call me Flins.”
Suddenly, Varka let out a boisterous laugh that could make the ghosts in the cemetery jump in surprise.
(Most probably, they did.)
“Hahahaha, look at us. Just in the first meeting and we’re already dropping the formalities.” Varka grinned. “I like that. I feel that we’re going to have a wonderful friendship, Flins.
Ahhh too bright.
“Indeed, Varka. I look forward to that friendship.”
With that, Varka said goodbye with a wave and walked into the fog towards his boat. Flins watched his silhouette slowly become smaller and smaller as he drifted farther from the island.
Then, he heaved a heavy sigh that he never thought he held within him.
Flins looked out at the horizon even though Varka wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t explain the things he felt earlier when he watched the other man pack the borrowed supplies. However, he didn’t want to delve into them at that moment and buried it deep within his mind. Despite doing that, even though only a few minutes had passed, Flins already longed for Varka’s next return to the island.
As the lightkeeper went back to the lighthouse, he remembered all the different smiles that Varka gave him earlier. Flins felt his lips curve upward and couldn’t help but be happy that he was the sole recipient of those smiles.
Despite still being surrounded by the fog, suddenly, the Final Night Cemetery looked brighter and livelier than before.
When he entered his room, Flins saw the unfinished reports on his table and sighed. But then, Varka’s face appeared in his mind and he smiled to himself again. Flins felt stupid doing it, but he didn’t care.
Maybe, just maybe, he could actually finish all his reports tonight.