Nyell splashed his face with cold water, entertaining the vain hope that it'd wake him up and chase away the fatigue. Well, it didn't. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep, and exhaustion still stretched his facial features taut. Dark circles were etched under his green eyes, silent witnesses of the all-nighter he had pulled. Even though he did try to take a nap in the afternoon, he didn't manage to sleep a wink, too many thoughts swirling in his head. His body might be dead tired, but his mind had been kept awake by emotions he'd rather not have felt.
"Get a grip, dumbass," he clicked his tongue, squinting at his reflection in the mirror. "Nothing has changed. Stop worrying over stupid stuff and get ready already."
The festivities were about to start, meaning he'd need to drag his weary body down the mountain regardless of his mental state. He might not want to admit it aloud, but he knew deep down that he had been shocked to the core by Allen's identity and everything that it entailed. It had been a lot to take in in one setting, and even now, it still felt surreal. No matter how much he racked his brain over the matter, he couldn't quite grasp the full implications of Allen's divine lineage.
At the end of the day, he was but a mere mortal.
Or perhaps, that wasn't what truly perturbed him. Nyell might have been more troubled by the identity of his own soul than he was by Allen's old age. Wrapping his mind around the principle behind fated mates was easier said than done. A belief he had held for years couldn't be shattered in the snap of a finger, and admitting he was wrong was difficult. Because that would mean he had been cursing the wrong entity all along: Yuel wasn't at fault, although that could still be up for debate, as he did allow them to reincarnate in the same era, ensuring that the thread of fate did its thing.
Again, that could be argued. Allen didn't seem to get any rest between his death and his rebirth, so, at one point, they would have inevitably been born in the same era. It just happened to be in this life, and they just so happened to meet this time.
The absolute goddamn idiot, though, was his previous self. She willingly knotted that red cord on her finger to Allen's, forever tying their souls together. What a dumb thing to do, whether consciously or not. It didn't matter to Nyell.
A long sigh escaped him. What now? Even if he knew the truth, he didn't want to go back on his words. He had accepted the man as his mate, and if he was honest, Allen was everything he could have dreamed of, minus the age disparity between them. His appearance was top-notch, and as for his personality… Well, it had its defaults, but nothing he couldn't handle. He quite liked his way of dealing with things and his tendency to pamper him. Allen didn't see him as his possession like most werewolves did with their mates, but as his partner, someone who had his own free will and whom he should respect.
What Nyell didn't like, however, was the thought that maybe Allen wasn't seeing him as himself, but as a ghost of the past. This possibility, which had viciously popped into his mind shortly after Allen's confession, had been haunting him since then, souring his mood a little more with each passing minute.
The shaman wasn't like him; he remembered his lover from his first life. His soul hadn't been turned into a blank state when it was time to reincarnate. It never did and never would.
Then, what if Allen was comparing his old lover to him since the first time they met? Allen had always been aware of what fated mates truly were, and yet, he still embraced their bond with open arms from the beginning. Of course, there was the spiritual aspect of it, as a fated mate could help regulate their partner's spiritual energy outburst, making Nyell a valuable asset from the get-go. So, his excitement might not necessarily have been due to the identity of his soul.
Even so, Nyell couldn't get that thought out of his mind. A malicious voice kept telling him that Allen only drew close to him because of his soul. He was not seeing him for who he currently was, but for who he had once been. It was an annoying thought that made him want to pull his hair out.
What was he? An insecure wife or something?
"Why is this irritating me so much, anyway?" Nyell slapped his cheeks, trying to chase away the nagging feeling. "It's getting on my nerves. Even if Allen does see his past lover in me, so what? It's normal, and it's alright. Why am I making a drama out of it, seriously?"
Still, Nyell couldn't stop thinking about it. It was bothering him even more than Allen's divine lineage and age, two things he had now thrown in the back of his mind, for these didn't matter to him. What mattered was their relationship, and nothing else.
"…Am I really that infatuated?"
Nyell buried his head in his hands, discouraged. He hadn't thought that accepting his feelings for the man would mess his emotional state so much. Maybe he should have kept pretending not to have noticed and maintained the distance between them instead. The status quo hadn't been that bad.
It was too late to restore it now, however.
***
"If glares could kill," Miell chortled, waving a meat skewer under Nyell's nose, "the whole plaza would have dropped dead by now. Stop glaring daggers and eat something instead. I know you're tired, but you're scaring people away. A kid burst out crying earlier!"
"Oh, shut it," Nyell grumped while snatching the skewer away and taking a bite. It wasn't his fault if his throbbing headache was only getting worse by the seconds, thanks to the noisy crowd and all the shouting from the stalls. His temper was already not the kindest, so, of course, it'd flare when he lacked sleep. He didn't care if others didn't approach him; no, he welcomed a bit of rest with open arms. The beastman was the odd one for being full of energy after the night he had gone through, even after a day of rest. Goodness, the guy was bouncing around the plaza like an overexcited kid! So annoying.
Miell, not at all bothered by Nyell's obvious foul mood, opened his mouth to tease him, "Or, could it be that you're pissed off for having to dress up again?"
The beastman's probing was grating on his nerves, and Nyell responded with a roll of his eyes. He might not be fond of dolling up, but today's outfit wasn't too overboard. He wouldn't die for this much. Probably.
His silky, black hair was tied into a high ponytail, and only one delicate silver chain adorned the crown of his head. He wore the usual black turtleneck tank, loose pants, and boots, which he had grown to like quite a bit. This time, only one delicate layer of robes was fastened atop by a tissue belt around his waist. The clothes were embroidered with golden threads, depicting mythic sea creatures he couldn't quite recognize, and a tassel of pearls hung at the hem of the belt. Nothing too fancy, but traditional and proper enough for the festivities.
Since there was a high chance that Allen's foes would act during the festival, Nyell had demanded clothing that wouldn't get in the way in case he needed to fight and intervene, and that had been non-negotiable.
"I see that getting a mate hasn't softened that foul temper of yours one bit," Yohan, who was sticking to Miell like his shadow, snorted. Now that he was no longer under that man's control, he had thrown the revealing outfit in the trash and covered himself up to the neck with a few layers of robes. He also wore a wide straw hat with decorative markings and a veil clipped on the back, keeping his face hidden in the shadow. It didn't mean Nyell couldn't imagine what kind of expression the young man wore underneath, though. His delicate jaw was still visible, and so was the smirk on his lips.
"My temper isn't that bad," Nyell groaned.
"Yeah, right," Yohan shrugged before pausing, seemingly pondering Nyell's assessment of his temper. It didn't take long before he snorted, "Well, I guess it isn't as fiery as it once was. I mean, all I can see now is a coward running away from his mate. But my eyesight is quite bad, so I might be wrong. Who knows."
"I'm not running away," Nyell grunted, gesturing to a stall vendor to wrap him some pastries. The trio had been strolling the plaza, exploring the various stalls that were clustered in rows. Products from all around the world were exhibited for all to see, and tasty food was offered every two or three booths. "I'm just taking a breather. It's not because he's my mate that I've got to stick to him every goddamn hour of the day. We came together and opened the festival hand in hand. That should be enough interaction for tonight."
"Nyell," Miell's mouth twitched. "You know, it sounds like you're making excuses to me."
"I know, and I don't care."
"…"
The message was clear, and Nyell closed off the subject. Yes, he was avoiding Allen once again, and no, he wouldn't tell them why. He wouldn't scream his mate's secret on the rooftop for the heck of it, and he still didn't want to admit how insecure he felt deep down. Right now, all he wanted was to distract his mind and think of nothing at all.
Although walking around the plaza also served as a way to patrol the area, Nyell had the right to enjoy himself a little. Dangu was overseeing the harbor, whereas the ghost children were posted at strategic vantage points to observe the festivities from high above. Some hunters, the same who had been requisitioned for the auction raid, had been tasked with security and maintaining order. A few had been left behind to take care of the bastard and some foreign nobles and merchants who had participated in the auction. They had yet to determine who the ringleader was. Or, Nyell thought, it'd be more accurate to say that they hadn't gathered enough evidence yet; he had a hunch his fated mate knew perfectly well who was pulling the strings behind the scene.
In any case, with all the precautions Allen had prepared, if something were to become amiss, Allen and Nyell would be warned immediately. In the meantime, he might as well enjoy what the festivities had to offer.
"Is there something in particular you want to do?" Miell asked Nyell and Yohan. "This evening, it's only the opening, and except for stalls, play booths, and a few street shows, there isn't much to do. The great events are scheduled for tomorrow, so…"
"Not much to do?" Nyell and Yohan chorused.
"Well, yeah…?"
"It's at times like these that I realize just how different our worlds are and how backward we are in the jungle," Nyell shook his head. "The only festivities I ever got to experience were related to seasonal ceremonies to appease the Gods, some feasts, and dancing around bonfires. We're too busy trying to survive to hold any festivities of this scale."
"Ah?"
"Why are you so surprised? Some tribes, like mine, only hold feasts for warriors, and the rest can rot in a corner and die of starvation," Yohan snorted, his eyes scanning the surroundings with discreet curiosity. "We've never seen anything like this before."
"No, but I thought, I mean," Miell stuttered, a little red in the face. Between the three of them, he appeared to be the most excited, so he felt like they weren't that much impressed or interested. He hadn't thought of the possibility that they were simply both too stoic.
"Anyway," Nyell smiled, cutting short the awkwardness. "We'll count on you to guide us around, if you don't mind."
"Being your guide brings bad luck, so I'm not sure I want to take up the offer this time."
To this, Nyell could only respond with a half-hearted laugh. Because deep down, he already knew the festival would get interrupted one way or another, be it today or tomorrow. Miell, too, must have been aware. Still, he had come running to enjoy the festivities, regardless of the danger lying ahead. Who in their right mind would miss festivities organized by the tribal chief himself, for his mate to boot? Only fools would! Who cared about a bit of danger? Life was too short to worry anyway. Or at least, that was Miell's motto.
"Alright, then! Let's start with the game booths!"