This fic was born from Starbucks´ magical writing atmosphere and an "ololololol" mood. I think you can notice that XD I still kinda like it. Ololol.

For the fe_contest on lj. I haven't participated in it for far too long.

Rumbling, chilling, piercing, a hint of old kindness and warmth, high and low at once, uncomfortably familiar, shrill and soft...

Bathing in sweat, Ephraim shoots upright, chest heaving. He clutches at his thick blanket – his eyes frantically dart around in the dark room. Cold moonlight falls through the windows – there! a curtain moves on its own. Ephraim pulls close his legs, his lungs still desperately grasping for air, and squeezes his eyes shut. His heart beats loudly against his eardrums.

He shivers – rumbling, chilling, piercing – he shakes his head and swallows. His throat is bone-dry and his tongue seems to stick to the roof of his mouth. With shaking legs, he climbs out of his bed and blindly walks towards the small table next to the door, which always carries a pitcher of water. He doesn't bother to search for a glass and takes a deep gulp from the jug.

He sighs relieved when he puts the water down. The shaking has stopped and his heart is calm again. He dips one hand into the water and cools his face.

He feels refreshed when he goes back to bed – though when he pulls up the blanket, one lonely shiver runs up his spine. Stubbornly, he ignores it and forces himself to sleep again.

A hint of old kindness and warmth, high and low at once, uncomfortably familiar...


Soft, bumbling, sometimes high-pitched, pure, carefree, happy, comforting, unsure at times...

Ephraim turns, a bit dazed – as if someone has shaken him awake from a dream. The sound comes from behind him. He steps towards the window and looks for the source. There are two children in the garden, playing roughly. Their high-pitched giggling carries up high. Involuntarily, Ephraim presses his mouth close tight and memories flash in front of his eyes.

"My king?" Slowly he turns, keeping his face blank. Seth throws him a questioning glance.

"It's nothing." His gaze shifts away, his mind fleeing – to a time long gone past. On first glance it has seemed that one of the children has light purple hair – soft, bumbling, sometimes high-pitched... Or maybe that was only Ephraim´s imagination. It sounds so much like–

"Sir, if you want a break, we– "

"That is not necessary," Ephraim interrupts him and throws him an admonishing glance. Seth lowers his head and his greying hair falls over his eyes.

"As you wish."

Ephraim sighs under his breath, rolls his shoulders and finally turns completely away from the window. He can no longer hear the children in the courtyard – pure, carefree, happy, comforting...


Shy, insecure, restrained, warm, close, blood-boiling, goosebumps causing, almost like a shy touch...

Ephraim hears it as he lies in bed, trying to sleep.

Ephraim hears it as he tries to get lost in lust.

Ephraim hears it as he daydreams in his study, always alone.

Eventually, he hears it every time his mind is free. Then, he feels happy.