The Wildness Within

Encompass 1

Two mornings later, Augus entered his front door, dripping wet and carrying two baskets full of impossibly silver flowers that glowed purple in their centres. Gwyn had never seen anything like them before – like a silversmith had attached them to green stalks. Nor had he ever seen Augus smile so widely. When Augus caught his eye, his smile broadened.

'We're rich,' Augus said, shaking the dripping baskets.

'Wh-' Gwyn stared at the flowers, they were mesmerising. 'I... The charm?'

'Yes, your charm,' Augus said, laughing breathlessly and dropping the baskets on the table. Gwyn hurriedly scrambled to move his parchments away. Why Augus lived in a home surrounded by water, dripped water, and didn't have water-fast ink – Gwyn would never know. 'Very strong. I'm giving it a break for now. It will ruin the harmony in my lake.'

Augus withdrew the stone from his pocket and Gwyn heard the song of it as it was placed on the table before him.

'I can make it...different,' Gwyn said, looking at it, then looking over at the silvery flowers. Oh, how he wanted to touch them. Would the petals feel like metal, sheened like that? He lifted a finger towards them and then froze when Augus slid his hand quickly beneath Gwyn's wrist and squeezed the cuff.

'Ah,' Augus said in warning. 'Not these.'

'Why not?'

Augus' lips quirked and he shook his head and picked up the baskets, taking them into the pantry. Gwyn turned in his chair and frowned.

'Why not?' Gwyn called.

'You don't need to make the charm weaker,' Augus called back, which was a response of sorts, but not the one Gwyn wanted.

Gwyn drummed his fingers on the table. Whenever Augus entered a room, Gwyn wanted to kiss him, or touch him, or talk to him, or not talk at all and be close to him. A confusing array of emotions would tumble and grow inside of him – too fast, too wild, and he would be left feeling vaguely ill and thinking that was perhaps what other people thought of as excitement.

Whenever Ash entered the room, Gwyn would feel a slow-burn heat inside of him, like wax being dripped down through him, until it reached his cock. But that would depend on the expression on Ash's face, or the feel of his glamour. Sometimes, Gwyn would feel young and new and as simple as he'd ever been in the forest. He would see a gentleness on Ash's face that would renew something that he hesitated to term innocence, for when had he ever been that?

Augus reappeared, carefully closing the pantry door behind him.

'They're silver flowers,' Gwyn said. 'They're very...they're comely.'

Augus' smile faded, his eyes turned troubled. He walked over swiftly and Gwyn tensed with a reaction he couldn't quite stop because when people approached him at speed, when they walked towards him fast, when they-

Fingertips that stroked his shoulder first, and Augus was shaking his head at him and frowning properly now. He looked up and away for a moment, and then looked down again, his brow furrowed. Gwyn wondered how he'd ruined the mood by saying the flowers were pretty, wanted to know how he could fix it, even as he found himself leaning towards that touch and hoping Augus could smooth it all away.

'They call to you, don't they?' Augus said, sighing. 'They don't to me. Nor Ash. They're silver sorrow – a pretty name, not quite accurate. They can be made into a drug of sorts. They soothe grief, loss – particularly that which is most acute. In this world, there are many that will pay so dearly for even a few drops of the stuff. A few moments of peace. A lightening of the soul.'