Some artwork for @zenthisoror lovely fic ‘Moonlight caught in mutton fat’ on ao3!!! This story was BEAUTIFUL and I loved the first chapter so much where they turn to jade, you have no idea.
Goodness, thank you so much for this! It’s beautiful art and when you first showed it to me it made me smile so much - like you said, they were distraught inside, so you got to the emotions I was hoping to get through with the scene. Xichen’s seclusion robes are on point!
Again, thank you, and, aaarrgh, I’m never going to get over the excitement of fanart! It truly is the coolest thing to see how what’s been in my imagination beamed to someone else and get a glimpse at how it’s been processed!
Christine shrieked in fear. She shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have invaded his privacy like that and removed the stone cold mask that obscured most of his face. Erik was seething, black, misty power emanating from every pore of his body, tendrils curling around his feet as they ghosted the floor. His golden eyes were hard like flint and full of rage as he stared at her in fury, the deformity that had scarred his face for a millennia now standing out starkly. It was a humiliation to him, a brand from another Lord of the Night in a duel that had gone horribly wrong and now, Christine had unwittingly exposed herself to it’s ugliness. He was furious at himself for letting down his guard, for letting her soft hands trail up his body and warming his broken soul after so many years of solitude. Erik had hissed in anger like a feral cat when he felt the mask be removed from his face, the beast that lurked within him itching to get out and it took all his resolve to keep it maintained. Instead, he paced forward to where she was, curled up in a ball shaking from fear and stared down at her.
“Give it back.” He seethed, the mask clutched between her breast and now crossed arms as she curled further into itself. “I said, give it back.” But Christine, whether she was too overwrought with fear merely ignored him, making him curse under his breath. “Why, why,did you do it, Christine? After I specifically warned you notto remove my mask, why did you then go and remove it?” She peeked up at this, her azure coloured eyes misty with tears and wide as she stared at the hideous deformity that marred his face. Her lovers face. Not that he knew that, of course. He had only ever dreamed that such a thing would ever happen to him.
“I… I don’t know… I-” She breathed, cowering when the darkness edged it’s way over to where she lay. It was the only thing she was aware of, his pure rage, and knew now just how powerful he really was. Noticing how truly terrified she was, he reigned his power in but did not hide the fact that he was still utterly furious. “I was… Curious.” Erik let out a sharp bark of laughter, squatting down so he could be at her level.
“Well you know what they say, Christine, curiosity killed the cat.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharply, but it had and Christine inched further away from him, sliding his mask along the marbled floor. Despite the love that thrummed for him in her chest, she could not help but feel doubt in her bones as to whether this love was justified. He was terrifying, cold with rage and incredibly dangerous.It wouldn’t take him much energy at all to snuff out her life like a candle in the wind. But, he didn’t, and instead he picked up the emotionless mask, caressing it with his fingertips before slipping it back on.
“I’m sorry Erik,” she found herself bleating as his cold gaze settled on her again. The trust and adoration that had been in eyes earlier on was now replaced by anger and wariness and he merely shrugged at her apologies. It would take a lot for him to be able to trust her that easily again.
“See to it that you never do it again.” He said coldly, before stalking off somewhere in his palace of night, with turrets of alabaster white stone and roofs of black slate. A palace of mazes and tunnels, of rooms empty and full. Of skylights that allowed the inky night sky to bleed through, for the shafts of creamy moonlight that brushed across the dark ebony floors. No doubt he had stalked off to his music room, in a different wing of the building and covered with talismans so powerful that nobody but him could get in unless he gave permission. It was his one place of sanctuary and Christine had only been allowed in once. She realised, as she sagged on the floor of one of the countless parlour rooms of this never-ending palace of night, that it would probably take her a long time to get that permission again. All because of that wretched mask. She collapsed again the floor, taking in ragged breaths, swearing to herself that never would she evoke such rage from Erik again. She wanted to live, after all.
