KOTLC Stuff

Unlawful (Bronte x Fintan)

Bronte would never forget the first time he saw Fintan Pyren. No matter how old he got, that was one memory he would always retain.

Their first meeting was decades and centuries back. Bronte was now an Ancient and Fintan quite a bit older than him.

They'd met in Atlantis. Bronte had always been short and large crowds meant he got pushed around a lot and got lost easily. He'd been trying to cross a crowded square and was being jostled and shoved about. He was used to it, people shoving him away if he stumbled into them so when he ran into someone quite tall, with a nice chest (not that he noticed) the last thing he expected was for two arms to reach out and steady him, holding him at arms length.

Letting his eyes wander upward from the broad chest and shoulders, to a defined Adam's apple, all the was to a pair of sky-blue eyes that made his breath hitch just the tiniest bit. Those eyes expressed genuine concern, staring intently to see if he was okay. Small whisps of bold hair fell into the stranger's face, drawing Bronte's attention to his hair. Long and blond, it was tied into a messy ponytail that fell over his shoulder as he looked down at Bronte.

"Are you okay?"

Dear Something, his voice was smooth with a rough edge that had Bronte fighting to keep his composure. In the most dignified tone he could muster he replied with:

"I'm alright. Thank you."

The stranger smiled and the things it did with Bronte's heart were alarming.

"I'm Fintan."

The stranger, Fintan, let go of Bronte's shoulders.

"Bronte."

He responded, fully aware he was staring and eternally thankful that Fintan didn't seem to notice or care. Just then someone jostled him again making him fall slightly into Fintan who gave an amused smile.

"Maybe we should get away from this crowd."

He grabbed Bronte's hand and pulled him along, completely unaware of Bronte's internal crisis. They reached a quieter area of Atlantis and Fintan turned back to Bronte.

"So, Bronte, now that we've run away together, won't you tell me more about yourself?"

Bronte attempted to ignore the implications of Fintan's wording and agreed. They talked about trivial things. Bronte learned that Fintan was considerably older than him, his favorite color was grey, and that he had a strong sweet tooth. In return he told Fintan his age, that his favorite color was yellow, and that, unlike most elves, he wasn't really a fan of sweet things.

Eventually, as all conversations among elves do, they came to abilities.

"I'm a pyrokinetic." Fintan told him. "You?"

Bronte hesitated, he didn't talk about his ability much and it was more or less a secret.

"I'm an Inflictor." He explained, "I can make people feel pain with my mind."

Fintan didn't say anything, making Bronte think he'd scared him off. He moved to get up and leave only to be stopped.

"That sounds hard to handle."

Bronte looked at Fintan who stared back without a hint of disgust, only pure sincerity.

"It is." Bronte admitted. For some reason, the moment felt soft and safe.

They continued to meet after that. It wasn't secret but they didn't advertise their friendship either. Bronte's initial butterflies when meeting Fintan only grew in size until he was pretty sure he was falling for Fintan.