Work Text:
Shadow Mor'deth stood at one end of a mostly barren room, looking over a table covered in an assortment of maps and inventories. Candles illuminated the table and its immediate area, allowing the drow man to read his reports comfortably. Other torches had been lit periodically around the room, casting dancing shadows throughout the room. He forced himself to keep his back to them, suppressing instincts that screamed for him to turn around. An empty room of shadows was a threat. He had promised to help Jet with some stealth training though and he was far more experienced with moving through darkness than the younger man. He had been born and raised in the Underdark, not on the surface like his young lover.
Jet had just reached the entrance of the room, his amber eyes searching the shadows for the best path through the room. He forced himself to keep silent and move slowly, trying to maintain an outward calm when inside he felt like a bowstring that had been strung too taut. Shadow expected him to traverse the room without being seen, at the very least, and reach his side. If he disappointed the older drow, he knew that he would be heartbroken. Shadow wouldn't punish him physically but his disappointment, the fact that Jet had failed him in a task he had set him, to would hurt the smitten young man enough.
Quietly creeping into the dancing shadows, Jet started his trek across the room, hugging the outer wall. Shadow had allowed him to inspect the room a few days prior to the exercise, so he thought he had a pretty good idea of where he should stick to. He shot a glance towards his target, his lips curving a little as he watched the broader elven man shift his weight from one foot to the other. His hair hung halfway down his back in a single, tight plait, much like Jet's. Which was appropriate, since he had done it.
Jet was admiring his handiwork, alright and his target, when his foot was jerked out from under him. He barely managed to stifle a startled yelp, clapping a hand over his mouth as he instinctively curled his shoulders inward and ducking his head to avoid cracking it on the floor. He found himself dangling upside down by his right foot. Panting behind his hand, the young drow looked to the ceiling and saw a slender black rope dangling from a rafter, his foot neatly snared in it. Where had that come from?! Jet closed his eyes to calm himself and tried to slow his breathing, relaxing his body to hang limply from one leg. He waited for a moment, listening for some sign that Shadow was deeming this a disqualification.
There was silence, save a few rustled papers and shuffled steps from the front of the room. Shadow was letting him try to work his way out of this. Jet felt a rush of relief, sighing softly as he finally removed his hand from his mouth. Opening his eyes, the youth looked up his body and tensed, starting to reach up to grab to the back of his knees. He paused when he saw something enter the room from the corner of his eye.
Another shadow slid away from the darkness of the hallway beyond the room, moving with smooth graceful movements. Jet twisted in his snare, trying to get a better look. Was this another test, like the snare itself? The form glided closer, taking his wall route around the room and the young drow gaped. It was him. The false Jet crept to where the youth was suspended, staring in shocked silence, and paused to touch two fingers to Jet’s lips lightly with a sly smirk. Pressing their fingers to their own lips, as if with a kiss, the figure continued on and Jet shook himself, twisting to try to reach his leg and the rope holding him. When he managed to catch the rope, he groped for his boot dagger, desperate to get down.
Shooting a look after the copy of himself, Jet tried to call out to Shadow and felt panic well in his chest when nothing happened. Not even a strangled croak past his lips. Snatching the dagger from his boot, he sawed frantically at the rope at his foot and tried to grip it to keep from falling to the ground when it gave. His attention was torn between the task of cutting himself free and the watching his double’s progress.
The false Jet neared the end of the room, hastening his pace eagerly. Jet froze as the double glided up behind Shadow and slid an arm around his waist, offering a hopeful whisper. "Did I do good, Shadow?" the double asked in Jet’s voice. Jet saw the older drow man start to look over his shoulder, then stiffen with a jerk. The false Jet smiled and jerked the arm that was wound around Shadow higher, supporting the broader man when he sagged into his arms with a choked sound.
Jet screamed soundlessly, slashing wildly at the rope. His double glanced back to regard him with a bemused smirk, holding Shadow, then dropped him to the floor unceremoniously. Turning away from the bleeding drow, the double strolled back to the doorway of the room, pausing only to blow a kiss towards the suspended youth as he finally crashed to the ground. Jet landed awkwardly on his shoulder and rolled to sit up, climbing to his feet so that he could run to Shadow. The older drow lay curled up on his side, his hands gripping the hilt of a dagger still protruding from his chest.
Jet managed to reach him before stumbling to his knees, his hands hovering just above the older man hesitantly. He gently rolled Shadow onto his back and cradled his head in his lap, staring down at his lover in shock. The double had thrust the dagger into Shadow's chest and then jerked it up and outward, leaving a messy gaping wound. Jet tried to put his hands over the wound, pressing the cloth of Shadow’s shirt to it in an attempt to staunch the flow but the older man pushed his hands away with a pained wheeze. Pinkish froth bubbled at his lips as he struggled to breath, causing a faint hissing sound. For the first time since he had fallen, Jet found himself capable of making a sound, and he wailed.
A shattered, heartbroken cry rang through the room and was abruptly silenced as Jet woke and rolled to bury his face in one of the pillows on his bed. For several minutes, he lay rigid and silent in the plush covers, listening for any sign that anyone else had heard him over his own pulse thundering in his ears. When he was certain that he heard no soft footfalls outside or the sleepy murmurs of those roused from sleep, he forced the tenses muscles of his body to relax and lifted his face from his already tear soaked pillow.
Satisfied that he was alone, the young drow hugged the pillow closer and gave in to sobs that wracked his slender frame. He missed Shadow, needed him. The older drow had been more than a simple lover for him. He had been his friend, his lover, his protector. He was love and safety. Jet could take any problem to Shadow and he could make it better. Shadow was dead though, along with his sister, and it was Jet’s fault. If Shadow hadn't been helping him, if he had been better, Shadow might be with him now.
He had been helping him though. And Jet had been snared in a trap that he should have seen and avoided. He had hung, useless and helpless, while someone killed the man he loved and casually strolled out to find his sister Nightshade as well. Even when he got free, all he could do was cry for his lover. Velvet had found him there and tried to pull him away. He couldn't even obey her. She had finally knocked him out and carried him out, before someone could find him with Shadow's corpse.
Finally, no more tears would come and Jet was left simply laying there somehow feeling both sore and numb. His nose and throat were raw from crying and he knew his eyes would be red and sore as well, but a sense of numbness had settled into a lump in his throat as well. There was nothing that he could do that would ever bring Shadow back, and he couldn’t go to him either. First off, Shadow would never forgive him for killing himself, even to be with him. And he couldn’t do that to Velvet, either. All that he could do was try to remember Shadow and what time they had together.
Unwinding himself from the pillow that he had been holding, Jet sat up and slid out of the bed to pad silently to a chest in the corner of the room. Lighting a small candle, he set it nearby and flipped open the chest to burrow to the bottom, where a leather bound journal rested amid a few other things that had been safely tucked there. Jet pulled the journal out and grabbed the candle before retreating back to the bed. He set the candle on the table beside the bed, lit it and plucked up a graphite rod before retreating to the middle of the bed with the journal. Flipping through pages of drawings Jet found a clean page and began sketching lightly, graphite rasping softly over the parchment.