folkmeme | texts from folkmore; tffm

Mayerling keeps his hold on Sharon, a position that alone would make him happy, much less that she helped him extinguish the fires and save the spirits of Exile, spirits who have been through enough. She's beautiful inside and out.

Something Mayerling wishes to see or experience? Something new? Something Sharon can help with? He does not respond immediately, the way such kindness and grace immediately banishes any ideas from his thoughts. How many times has he thought he's seen all he will and what remains will be iterations of what has come before? At least for him, personally, much as he watches human society grow from a distance. That's where change and growth is back home. In Folkmore, however, it is as Thirteen says: they all have potential. For themselves, for new experiences.

"It may sound impossible," Mayerling says, "or it may be as simple as asking Thirteen for it. I would like to walk in the sun, to touch the beautiful plants as they live, not only once they've died, without the shelter of my wings. As much as Folkmore has given me, I admit I want more, unreasonably greedily more, yet I ache for it."

The sun! Her smile curls. For a while now, she's considered a way to give him the ability to walk freely in the sun without harm, but the solution has always evaded her. Maybe it's time to seek advice from the vampires she knows in the realm who can endure the sun's rays, to see if they have any ideas.

"So greedy," she drawls, rolling her eyes playfully as she shakes her head, her tone dripping with sarcasm. To her, he is the furthest thing from greedy (and, no, she doesn't care that she is very obviously biased). "I don't want to leave you aching for anything, so I will help you find a way to walk in the sun and touch every rose you see without it wilting away."

She leans in to brush her lips against his, and as she pulls away, she whispers lovingly against them, "Because you deserve it." In her heart, she knows he deserves the whole goddamn world.

As simple a desire as it may sound, given it is something any human can do without a second thought, without consideration to how special and incredible it may be, Mayerling knows that it is greedy in its way. Vampires have so many advantages over humans, such dominion over the night, that were they to broadly gather such an ability, humanity might never have gained and might even lose their independence. Yet he does not wish to use it to dominate, to rule with fear, to amass any power. It is beauty and the simple but forbidden things he wishes.

"You give me so much, Sharon da Silva," Mayerling says, "It is because of you I know the taste of food, the rich interplay of flavors and textures and more. A year ago, Thirteen may have given us the experience of a human life together, but you seek to enrich my life as who I am and who I have always been. You are incredible, and life with you is what I want most of all for you are more beautiful and incredible than any rose could be."

Oh no, heartfelt words directed at her about her! A part of her wants to shy away even as her heart swells with emotion. No matter how often he compliments her, it still manages to leave her pleasantly flustered, her cheeks flushed. For all that she might doubt herself, she never doubts him. She smiles brightly, eyes gleaming.

"I love you," she says, the words serving as much of a statement of fact as they do an explanation and an expression of gratitude. She's never been as skilled with words as Mayerling. She can hold her own in an argument, and her ability to bitch just has to be Top 5 in Folkmore, but she's never been smooth or poetic. "You make me happy, Johan Mayerling, and for that, I would give you the world."

This world or any other, it doesn't matter. She loves him. He deserves everything that could grant him even a moment of joy.

Her words make Johan as happy as any he could say; their poetry lies not in the selection of each word or the melody of their flow but the earnestness and honesty with which they are said. It matters more than anything else. His centuries of embracing his love of drama and the romantic (for good and ill) expectations of others lead to the nature of the words he chooses. He enjoys them immensely, and Sharon's acceptance and beyond that pleasure in them is all he could want from her.

"That brings me joy. Your happiness is a world unto itself, and I am blessed immensely to have both that and a place I can live in peace without looking over my shoulder to be blamed for any ill deed within my vicinity."

It is more than he could ever ask for. Than he ever would, and with Sharon's encouragement, he has expressed a wish for more, one he tenuously believes might happen because Sharon accomplishes miracles.

Sharon adjusts the collar of his cape affectionately, taking a second to admire him and them in this moment. She can still smell the remnants of the fires and, beneath that, Exile itself, a wet and earthy rot. Together, it's not unpleasant, especially beneath his wings where the world smells more of him than anything else.

"Blessed," she breathes the word out, a chuckle beneath it. "Isn't that a little holy for a vampire?"

Blessed. Yeah, maybe that's the right word for such happiness, even as other, more complicated emotions surrounding Folkmore buzz at her gently beneath that joy, feelings easily stowed away; feelings that shrink and falter when faced with what Mayerling manages to stir up within her.

It's a good thing. A great thing. Perfect in the way only something handmade and imperfect can be. Blessed

Mayerling smiles back at Sharon, amused at her joke. "The cross became a sacred symbol for humanity in the Frontier partly because of its effect on vampires, but humanity does not have a monopoly on blessings. For indeed there is no other way to describe my good fortune at having you in my life."

He twirls them around, enjoying the presence of so much life around them and knowing that it is safe.

"Where would you like to go? I would gladly take you anywhere and do anything together, now you've helped me."

Sharon makes a show of consideration, locking her lower lip between her teeth—an action that doesn't dim her expression. She'd be happy doing anything anywhere together but for now...

"What if we just stayed here?" With the wildfire gone, she is wholly content. "We can enjoy what your confessions saved." Exile is her favorite area of the realm after all.

A contentment spreads across Mayerling's chest. He'd come to Exile first and foremost because it felt like the right place to be in that moment. Admittedly, he'd been brooding, the reason for which he could remember if he tried but in Sharon's presence felt meaningless, yet the fact remains that's what he'd wanted in the moment. Only, instead of a quiet place that felt of solitude without entirely being alone, that held dangerous and intelligent beings like from the Frontier while understanding his melancholy, Mayerling found the fires and was forced to adjust accordingly.

So it is foolish, perhaps, how much it pleases him that Sharon wants to stay, but it feels yet again like he gets everything he wants. It is so much happiness it is almost too much to bear. So much happiness it reminds him of how temporary it all is. Not the moment for that. Not when this moment is so wonderful of one. "It would be my pleasure," Mayerling says, "Sometimes I come here simply to sit and to exist. To be. In all of Folkmore, it is one of the areas that most reminds me of home."

To sit. To be. There is nothing more Johan Mayerling than that. "We come here for very different reasons," she admits with a soft chuckle as she sways gently in his arms, "but it kind of reminds me of home, too." But her lips twitch at the word, and she corrects herself. "Well, my Otherworld. A lot brighter but there's a... a "

No, because when she thinks of home, she thinks of people. Of Rose waking her in the morning with chocolate milk in a coffee mug. Of Chris coming home late at night to find her still working away at homework. Now, Mayerling is home, too. The realization makes her heart feel topsy-turvy and warm.

It would make Mayerling so happy to know that Sharon thinks of home as people, that she's had people enough of her life that they still define the feeling. Sharon is Mayerling's anchor, and wherever she is is where he wants to be, so long as she lives. Given the Sleeper blood in her system, that may outlast that of a typical human lifespan, something that would also make him happy. Yet he's been alone so long that home, that sense of belonging, no longer conjures the family he still loves no matter how long they've past, no longer brings to mind the handful of people he's loved, no, instead it conjures the large emptiness of a castle and the closed confines of his carriage, it brings to mind the land itself dangerous and free. So like Exile.

"A similar quality," Mayerling suggests as an end to Sharon's sentence. He's experienced her Otherworld, been hunted by her, and faced the personal demons it conjured. It too feels familiar, the experience of ages sped up to a near constant barrage. He doesn't compare her Otherworld to home, not aloud. "It is a part of you, and I love all of you, including Otherworld. It's incredible what you can do."

"That's very sweet of you given that I tortured you with it," she says playfully. Some days the memory can dig at her but she's learned to give herself some grace—at least where the Pthumerians (+ Thirteen) are concerned. He doesn't hold it against her so neither can she. But the fact he can love even that, it's a next level sort of acceptance, one that nearly makes her heart feel like it could burst. It's no wonder he's home.

"Some days, I'm proud of it. Like sure, it's all kinds of awful, but it's my awful. Other days... I'm not so sure." Because her abilities don't make any sense to her. Why does she have them? Is it because she's the vessel? A glorified incubator? "What if it's not even my awful?"

"Nothing I haven't tortured myself with for far longer," Mayerling reminds her. The physical manifestation was different, but he's also experienced physical dangers when in emotional turmoil before. It was challenging. He respects Otherworld for what it is, and he's glad Sharon has means to protect herself. Even should someone get out of Otherworld, it recommends not tangling with Sharon again. There's no guarantee a second time would go as well.

"What do you think of it, when you wonder if it's not your awful?" Mayerling asks. He invites her to say more. His thoughts and feelings are not as important as hers. Through their bond, he offers grounding and comfort, no matter what she thinks or feels, he's there for her. He loves her.

The reminder gets a soft sigh of acknowledgment and a gentle, "I know." That didn't make the fact it happened any easier, the last thing she wants to do is torture him, after all, but it's done and over with. At most, it's a tiny sore spot on her heart and even then it's a part of their story, which makes it something to cherish.

Sharon adjusts her hold on him and slips her arms around his middle to better tuck herself up against him, embracing the feelings that echo from the bond; allowing them to settle the rampant buzz of anxiety the question stirs up. "It fucking terrifies me," she admits, her hold on him tightening. "If it's not mine, it belongs to something else inside of me." And that fills her with such a great unease she almost feels ill.

"Do you think they could have been right? Do you think it could be god? Because I'm afraid I do."

Mayerling holds Sharon close, familiar with the terrible reality of being able to do little about something inside someone that terrifies them, that they must live with so long as they live. It is his turn to comfort Sharon and to be there for her, to love her no matter the reality.

"It is not god," Mayerling says with complete certainty, "That is the desperate idea they clung to in order to feel powerful. Whether it is yours or something else inside you, you have mastered this power, this place, and made it yours, yours and yours alone. Fear is healthy, but nothing in Otherworld is stronger or more terrifying than you, you incredible wonderful person."

His sincerity fills his words and the bond between them. Whatever might be inside Sharon, Sharon is stronger and more powerful; Mayerling knows that fact deep in his heart and trusts it, trusts her. The fear may always be there. A place like Otherworld deserves respect at all times, much like the Frontier. It is hers but also a wild place, much as she is a wild person.

Sharon inhales deeply as he speaks, letting the emotions from their bond surge through her, dampening the doubt and fear. His unwavering certainty and sincerity become an anchor, grounding her in a moment where she could easily spiral into overthinking. Her grip on him tightens as she exhales slowly, her racing heartbeat beginning to steady.

"Incredible, wonderful, huh?" she murmurs, her voice soft as she tilts her head back to look up at him, blue eyes damp. He cradles her heart so gently and, for a moment, she's in awe of him, grateful and full. She nestles back against him, finding comfort in his presence. "I want you to be right because... maybe if it's just mine, if it’s mine alone, it won't always have to be a nightmare."

It's not something she's ever dared to believe, but now, with him, maybe... just maybe.

Mayerling strokes Sharon's back, one hand more than enough to hold her in place in the air, and she grips him in return. It's wonderful to be together, no matter where, and Mayerling will support her always. When she needs a pillar of strength, he is there, same as she is an unwavering source of strength for him. They have each other through everything. No matter how wonderful a place Folkmore is, they are weighed down by their pasts, their guilt, their fears, and they must face them. Fortunately, they can face them together.

"I believe that is a possibility," Mayerling says, "It reflects the inner turmoil of anyone you send there, but it also reflects your own troubles and traumas. The more you face them and the less power they hold over you, the weaker they could become in Otherworld, until such a point, it is not a nightmare but a dream. A wonderful refuge that no one can take from you but to which you can bring anyone in need of such respite and strength."

It's a wonderful dream, one Mayerling doubts can be accomplished overnight. That is no reason to give up on it, however. Every step Sharon takes on herself will reflect in her Otherworld, he's certain.

It sounds almost too much like a dream, a hope that feels distant and unattainable. But that doesn’t mean she won’t try to make it real. She’s done the impossible before. Still, the thought of confronting her traumas, even with Mayerling by her side, sends a chill down her spine. The prospect is daunting, terrifying even, but if she has to face those demons, she’d rather do it with him than without.

"Would you help me?" she asks, her voice soft as she pulls back slightly to meet his gaze, needing to see the answer in his eyes. He has always been there for her, every step of the way, just as she has been there for him. But the Otherworld, her Otherworld, is a waking nightmare—an endless, twisted landscape where fear and regret take on monstrous forms. Mayerling has already endured more than his fair share of nightmares, faced down the ghosts of his past more times than she can count. Asking him to confront them again, for her sake, feels like an enormous request, but she needs to know if he’s willing to walk through that darkness with her.

"It's all right if you can't." Or won't. She'd never hold it against him.

The answer is in Mayerling's eyes, the glow of them calm and certain and true, and the answer is in his face and his body language, in all of him before he speaks a word. It requires no thought, no contemplation, for he has long considered it before she asked, before she dared to raise the possibility. As quiet as her voice is, Mayerling suspects Sharon knows, at least deep down, what his answer will be already, for he's always spoken positively of the time she hunted him and trapped him in Otherworld. He has no regrets for falling for her trick of injuring herself. Whatever he needed to go through to ensure she received aid for the illness she suffered was worth it, and Mayerling gave her a gift at the end of that hunt, when she came to her senses, to help her remember it by, as a watch for any other effects on her mind and a reminder of how deeply she's loved.

"Yes, my love, I will help you," Mayerling says, "I would gladly go to your Otherworld however many times it takes to help you face your fears. There is nothing Otherworld can do to tear me away from you, to lessen how much I love you, to change how I look at you, or in any way diminish our relationship. I love you, Sharon da Silva. I love all of you, and I will be there for you however I can all of our days."

Sharon knew. How could she not? Mayerling has always embraced everything she is, everything she can do, and all the things that haunt her. He’s never flinched, not even when she dragged him into the Otherworld. She knew he wouldn’t start now. But hearing him say it, hearing him confirm it with such quiet certainty, soothes most of her worries—never all, but enough—and fills her with an overwhelming rush of love. It surges through her, leaving her with only one possible response: she rises up and kisses him, deeply, passionately, pouring everything she feels into that connection.

When she finally pulls away, she’s breathless, and tears shimmer along her lower lashes, catching the light.

"Thank you," she murmurs against his lips, her words barely a whisper before she seals them with another, softer kiss. He knows the horrors that lurk there, the nightmares that will claw at him, and still, he’s willing to face it all with her. "I’d say you have no idea how much that means to me, but..."

But he does. He knows. It means the whole damn world.

Mayerling kisses Sharon back equally passionately, holding her tight against him, and should he not care about common decency, he very well may have carried on further so long as Sharon continued to kiss him, such is the intensity of the emotions between them and the way they flood his system from the compounding effects of elevated vampire emotions, increased Legend emotions, and shared Familiar bond feedback. So he breathes hard when Sharon pulls away, closes his eyes, and focuses on Sharon's heartbeat and her words to ground himself.

He strokes her spine for a few moments, nothing mattering but the two of them. Exile, for all its dangers, seems to appreciate what they've done for it. They have space, a pause, a respite.

"How much it means to you is why I will do it, however much it takes, however long it takes, for your well being is worth any trial or tribulation. The fact that I can help in such a meaningful way fills me with joy."

“This is what I love about us,” Sharon murmurs, her voice soft and reverent as her eyes trace every curve and angle of his face, committing each feature to a memory she knows will never be perfect but feels urgent to hold onto. Love is such a strange, wild thing, tangled in everything they are and have become. It’s as delicious as it is confusing, an emotion that wraps itself around the soul and pulls tight. And not always gently.

“All the things we’re willing to do for each other,” she continues, the words slipping out with a quiet conviction. To Sharon, that’s the essence of it. Love isn’t just about the sweetness and warmth; it’s the sacrifice, the small and sometimes painful ways they stretch themselves for the other’s happiness. She’s felt love that wasn’t willing to take that leap, love that hesitated at the edge of discomfort. But she’ll never accept anything less again.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeats, her voice taking on a rhythmic cadence, like a chant, like a truth she needs him to feel as much as hear. Each repetition carries a weight, the intensity of everything she’s ever felt for him, and her heart aches with the fullness of it, with the strange, funny beauty of loving him.

There's only been one request that has given Mayerling pause with his human lovers: the request that he bite them. It is so anathema to his whole being, and it asks him to sacrifice them as much as it does something of himself. To purposely risk their well being for an idea of further closeness. Everything else he has needed to do, everything else he's chosen to do for someone he loves, they are simple decisions.

Mayerling spins them in a gentle circle above Exile, welcome and comfortable in the magical setting, the one that comforts those who've been exiled and no others. They are both welcome here. They are welcome with each other. Full and completely, where others rejected parts of them, they can be fully themselves. Just as Exile accepts them. It feels the right setting in the moment. "I love you, and I will always love you, Sharon da Silva."

texts from folkmore; tffm

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