Surface-deep

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A/N: Amazing artist monochromacolor on Instagram has made laptop stickers of two pairings—Slayne and Jiro, Falrir and Sylvain! They are nothing short of cute and undeniably sweet. If you're familiar with her art, you'll know what I mean. Her interpretation of my characters are so creative, honestly. She's more of a creator than I am. If you're interested in buying the stickers (which are also ridiculously cheap lol), please follow her on Instagram at monochromacolor. That, or you can find the link to her profile in my Instagram (hisangelchip) post of her sticker!

I'm probably going to stick all these over my laptop. Ah, the pain of being reminded that Slayne is dead :') BOOTIFUL.

Also, I kinda update really slowly so I'm not sure if you guys reread chapters but I believe that people do forget what happened in the previous one, since I updated nearly three weeks ago. If so, yes, I encourage you to reread the previous chapter : )



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Somewhere along the way, Iolani Tori had fallen asleep in the soft afternoon light filtering through the stairs that led up to the mysterious room he wasn't sure if he'd before entered. The softness of an afternoon nap wrapped him up in a blanket that soon slipped upon the cloak of the night which covered him instead, leaving the darkest part of the library in a darker, whispering abyss. And it was the whispering that startled the creature within and pulled him out of the world of dreams.

He stirred and in turn, startled the fragile little thing he hadn't noticed was perched on his shoulder. The blue morpho butterfly fluttered aside, giving Io the space he needed to stretch his arms before hovering closer, circling a distance before his eyes as though in greeting. Io stared at it in awe, hurriedly looking around for Lyra before she mistook it for dinner.

"Sylvain? It's you isn't it," he said to the butterfly. "I've been waiting for you!"

The delicate creature seemed to stop in its path of flight, hovering in mid-air as though waiting for a curious moment to pass. Then, what appeared to Io as a trick of the light was the sudden growth in the span of its wings, blossoming like a flower in spring—petals of a blue rose, oddly enchanting in the shape of wings so translucent it was ethereal.

He turned; blonde hair falling past his shoulders in a movement so fluid, Io had thought he'd seen for the first time, liquid silver. Everything about the butterfly seemed to tell a story of fleeting nature. Fragile. Fine.

Nearly inhuman.

Even his voice possessed the quality of silk, soft but undeniably smooth. "You have been waiting...for me?"

"Yeap!" Io nodded, straightening up at once before dusting himself off. "I'm looking for a story."

"A book?" There was a hint of surprise in the eyes that held the gems of the sea. "Why...what an interesting story you must be looking for, for it to be in such an abysmal corner of the library. Did you fall asleep while looking for it?"

Io laughed, then covered his mouth for the sound had echoed up the stairs and across the shelves. "Um. Not really," he whispered. "The story I'm looking for—it might be in a book. But it might be elsewhere too."

"Well then, where else might it be?" Sylvain inquired further, eyes wandering across the shelves. "I might be able to find it for you."

Io looked around the stairs, unsure of where he should stand.

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