Jealousy - Dimitri

Dimitri has always been careful to keep his emotions under wraps. He cannot afford anything else. His anger is a slippery thing, quick to slip it’s leash should he give it the opportunity.

So he doesn’t. Well, at the very least he tries his best not to. It’s moments like these, however, that test the grace he has carved into his very bones.

You’d been visiting Ari, saying hello to the children; the usual whenever you visited Myrine. Now some man hovers near you outside the temple, and he feels warm all over in embarrassment. It’s not that you couldn’t have friends, no, it’s just that…well, this man’s hand is on your arm and his smile only speaks of wanting one thing as he looks down at you.

Dimitri cannot see your face, and he doesn’t want to. In some small part of his heart, maybe he had hoped you visited Myrine to see him. Maybe he had hoped there would be more than just sparks between you. Maybe he thought you wanted him, too.

That’s not for him to decide, though.

Then you step away, and the man follows. Dimitri pauses on turning away, his eyes narrowing as he tracks the way your body tenses as the man puts a hand on your elbow this time. He’s trying to draw you closer, and you’re fiercely attempting not to resort to physical violence.

Dimitri has no such reservations. His anger boils at the sight, heat pooling beneath his skin with his damned curse.

The blacksmith grips the pot he’d fixed for Ari like a war hammer. He’d just hammered the dents from it and here he is ready to add another. He’d probably have to make her a new one entirely if he got blood on it…

Oh, well. Something to pass the time at the forge.

“Excuse me?” He calls out, so unlike his usual mild temperament and tone.

The man tenses, his eyes darting over to Dimitri’s quick approach. The line of your shoulders ease when you see him coming. It soothes him, somewhat, that you find comfort in his arrival.

“Blacksmith, what’s your business here?” The man asks, and Dimitri recognizes him.

Not his name, no. Just his type. A rich lord’s son, under the impression that he was owed something simply because his mother popped him out. A notion Dimitri was eager to disprove.

“You should leave.”

The nobleman sneers, “And what gives you the right to tell me what I should do?”

Dimitri looks past the man, his eyes trained on you, “Why is he not currently a stain on the ground?”

“You just swept the steps this morning,” You give him a sheepish smile, “I didn’t want to make more work for you or Ari.”

“Are you ignoring me?” The buffoon asks, insulted.

Dimitri raises the pan like a weapon capable of horrible crimes, his eyes cold, “Leave. Like I suggested earlier.”

The man rushes off without another word. A rat scurrying off with his tail tucked between his legs.

“If it comes to squashing a bug like that,” Dimitri says as you come closer, “I will happily clean the blood from our doorway to spare you Ari’s sighing.”

“I need not when my fierce warrior is armed with such deadly tools,” You smirk slightly, glancing down at the pan.

He feels the heat again, this time pleasant and rising into his cheeks.

“I was fixing it for Ari,” He explains, “I…are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” You confirm quietly, offering your elbow to escort him in, “You can give that back to Ari and then we can go get supper.”

“Right.” He wraps his arm in yours, heart pounding so loud he’s convinced you surely must be able to hear it.

You say nothing if you can. Just like that, the anger cools, the heat receding. He fears his emotions, he fears the curse that had been thrust upon him, but you soothe his worries at just a touch.

All his life he’d been told he was an unlucky thing, an unfortunate soul to have been saved. You make him think life might just be worth living without the fear, however. If he has you, after all, what has he to fear?