Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite the many, many years of research into the subject, no one quite understands the "how" or the "why" of daemons.

All we know is that at the moment we take our first breath, something is born alongside us. Something that we are bonded to for life - it causes physical pain to be further than a few dozen metres away from them. Our daemon is (in most cultures) named at the same time as us. For the first years of life, our daemons take the form of any animal we can imagine - mammal, bird, reptile, or amphibian, extinct or still living, the possibilities are theoretically endless. Then around age twelve (give or take a few years depending on the person), our daemons settle - that is, choose just one animal form for life. They also gain the ability to take on 'mark form' - disappearing into a tattoo-like mark on our body, though daemon marks are distinctly more shimmery and ethereal than ink tattoos.

It's impossible to tell exactly what form a daemon will settle as: but there are patterns. Most daemons are the opposite sex as their owners; roughly 1 in 80 aren't, but it's far more common among the queer community, for an unknown reason. The most common species of daemon is Canis lupus lupus, commonly known as a dog. Dog daemons are also more common among those with people-pleasing personalities. There's even a pattern based on profession: many singers and artists have bird daemons, the performers of the animal world. And of course, the vast majority of people have a daemon that is found in the location where they or their parents were born and/or raised.

Daemons are of top importance, across cultures and across time. As we have moved into the modern world, however, a percentage of this importance has faded somewhat - most office jobs require daemons to remain in mark form from 9-5. The impact of daemons in many industries has gotten smaller and smaller, in everything from arts to zoology.

And particularly in the performing arts, daemons have been disappearing from the stage for quite a while. The Eurovision Song Contest required daemons to be in mark form whilst on stage for many years, following a performance where a songbird daemon sang whilst their human stood silently in the background, that caused international backlash. This rule became a problem when the Junior Eurovision Song Contest was established - many children aged 9 to 14 have not yet had their daemons settle and consequently be able to take on mark form. So the ban was lifted for both contests in the early 21st century, to the joy of those who already disliked it. Nowadays, most of the performance is still done by humans, but when daemons are sighted on the ESC stage it usually produces a loud round of applause.

It's still true that there's no scientific explanation for how or why daemons exist. But most people don't care about the how, and everyone has their own explanation for what their daemon brings into their life. Emotional support. Physical help. True companionship.

The bond between every person and their daemon is unique. And yet alike.

Chapter Text

Longing: Konstrakta

Konstrakta (or Ana, as she is known in everyday life)'s daemon is a red fox. Aleksandr is, as the fairy tales say, quite intelligent and imaginative, though more lazy than tricksy. Their favourite thing to do together is read - he sits across her shoulders while she turns the pages. So, in between rehearsals and preparties and chaos, she finds herself at a public library.

"Aco?" she murmurs, and he manifests from mark form, stretching.

"What have you got for us today?" he asks, jumping up into the armchair and making himself comfortable. "Not another tabloid, I hope."

"Inspiration can be found anywhere, Aco. The tabloids reveal humanity's darkest desires."

"Hmm, but they're so sleazy. I feel bad for reading them, like I'm feeding the troll, I suppose."

"Well, you'll be glad to know that it's not a magazine today." She pulls out the book so Aleksandr can see the cover.

"A picture book?"

"It's about a dog that gets lost and has to find his way home. I thought it looked cute."

She opens the book, and they read in silence. Ana knows that Aleksandr reads at the same pace that she does, but she lingers on the pages all the same, running her fingertips over the illustrations. They finish the book quickly, but she keeps staring at the last page.

"Ana?" he says gently, nosing at her cheek. She looks over at him, and her piercing blue eyes are brimming with tears.

"You know, when I was a little girl, I went away on a school camp," she replies, in a shaky voice. "Do you remember? I hardly recall anything about it, but I vividly remember my mother crying when she picked me up from the bus. I was very confused - I had only been gone for a week." She laughs joylessly. "Now look at me. I've only been away for a little while, and I miss my kids so much that I'm crying because I'm reading a book that they would love."

Aleksandr doesn't say anything, and just carefully steps down from the chair's armrest to rest himself in her lap. She strokes her fingers through his russet fur. He speaks up once she seems calmer.

"I miss them too, Ana. I really do. Maybe we could order a copy of this book, or see if there's a library back home that has it, and show it to them when we get home?"

"I'd like that."

~
A/N: Aco is a Serbian nickname for Aleksandr, in case it isn't obvious. (Well, according to Behind The Name it is. Sorry if any of my sources are inaccurate!)
~

Running: Cornelia Jakobs

Cornelia Jakobs' daemon is a Eurasian lynx. He's elegant when he wants to be - the plumed ears and handsomely mottled fur certainly help - but, like Cornelia, he has a crazy streak a mile long. They've spent many a day running through the closest park together, Hugo's massive paws padding next to Cornelia's old running shoes. He can run much faster than she can, but she can run for longer. So they do their best to pace themselves.

Still, it gets difficult sometimes. She feels like everything in her life is 0 or 100. She has a billion responsibilities or nothing to do. Her label wants a whole album or they won't let her release anything at all. Running at top speed or standing still. Honestly, the worst part is that it's hard to get people to understand - most don't seem to get that people other than hyperactive young boys can have ADHD, let alone understand the intricacies of how it impacts her life. But she'll always have Hugo to understand her. Padding at her side or wrapping around her torso in mark form. Friends, lovers, family come and go, but Hugo is constant. Always together. Always.

Before she performs, she does her best to picture a happy place. Most would imagine something calm, like a tranquil beach or a quiet snowy scene. But for Cornelia, happiness will always be running with her daemon, as fast as she can go, under the pale Swedish sunlight.

~
A/N: As a person with ADHD who is not a hyperactive young boy, the struggle is real lol.
~

Insecurity: Chanel

Chanel Terrero's daemon is a Cuban tree boa. Maja de Santa Maria, as the locals say. She was a little unsure of him when he first settled - she had never been particularly scared of snakes, but some of her friends were. She was worried about what other people would think of her, too. People make quite a lot of judgements about others based on the species of their daemon, and snakes? In the common stereotypes, they were untrustworthy, sneaky, dangerous.

But Emilio was nothing like that. He, as a boa, wasn't venomous anyway, and his personality was sweet and innocent. So she got over it pretty quickly. Nowadays, he makes for a glamorous companion - wound around her shoulders, they can even dance together! Even in mark form he's gorgeous - an intricate pattern of scales along her spine.

She just wishes that everyone else felt the same way about him, she thinks, scrolling through social media. She stops at a tweet that mentions him, then winces as she reads the contents of it.

"That snake of hers is nothing but even more proof that Chanel should not be representing Spain," he reads aloud over her shoulder. She looks at him, briefly startled, but he continues reading. "Is it so hard for people to understand that commie Cuba is not Spain?" he finishes.

"I know, I know, I shouldn't be looking at toxic stuff like this."

"See, if you knew then you wouldn't be looking."

"It's hard not to. I was just looking for more news about the pre-parties, but I ended up finding things like this, and..." She trails off, sighing. He slithers down the chair that she's sitting in, using her arm as a bridge. His cool scales against her warm skin feels comforting, somehow.

"I know it's tempting to try and find out what other people think of you. But you must remember, seeing their opinions on social media tells you nothing about who they are in real life. Actually, scratch that, it tells you everything. Remember, you're the one that won against tough competition by performing in front of millions, and this guy is the one sitting in his armchair angrily tweeting cause he's decided that being hateful is the best use of his time. Right?"

"Right."

"You're gonna do so well. Love ya."

"Love you too, Emilio."

~
A/N: The Spanish Eurovision fandom is really toxic, it's crazy. I wasn't aware of just how toxic until I read a writeup that some guy did on r/HobbyDrama. Give it a read if you want the tea, lol.
~

Understanding: Sam Ryder

Sam Ryder's daemon is a European badger. "Quite storybook," he often quips. And Tara does look straight out of Narnia at times - with her soft accent that's identical to Sam's, and her playful nature. But she's tough, too: in a literal sense with her thick pelt, and personality-wise with her resilient nature. Badgers are the epitome of "do no harm but take no shit", he thinks.

He has to do vocal warmups now, which are boring, so he lets Tara out from mark form on his back. She wanders around the dressing room while he sets the metronome.

He starts with something simple: "One, one two one, one two three two one..." He concentrates on the task at hand, whilst idly watching her movements to keep himself from distraction. They make a good team, he thinks. Then his phone rings.

Sighing, he pauses the metronome and answers his phone.

"Who was that?" asks Tara, after he finishes talking and puts the phone back down.

"The lady making my costume. She wants to know if I can come in for a fitting right after this."

"You should tell her that you can't," she says firmly, and he sighs again. "I'm serious. You need to save your energy."

"I'm not a very confrontational person, Tara."

"You don't have to confront her. Just message her and get her to reschedule."

"I don't know, Ta..."

"Do it for me?" He looks into her beady black eyes, at the white stripes on her face and her large twitching nose.

"...well now I guess I have to, seeing as I can't resist your cute face." She sits back smugly as he messages the tailor. "Now, back to warmups..."

~
A/N: Did you know that badgers can be tamed? The last few photos on the wikipedia page for them are so cute...
~

Strength: Oleh Psiuk (Kalush Orchestra)

Oleh's daemon is a golden eagle. Proud, strong, queen of the skies. She settled early, when Oleh was not quite twelve, and his mother got him a pair of child-size falconer's gloves and sewed a small patch of an eagle onto the left one, his daemon's name embroidered on the right. Dariya. He has long since outgrown them - Dariya prefers to perch on his hat, shoulders or sleeves anyway - but the gloves take pride of place in his room as a treasured keepsake.

Eagles are one of the several species of animals that have returned to the Red Forest inside of Chernobyl's exclusion zone. They're strong. Too regal to care about the folly of humanity. Survivors.

"You always were too tough to let anything bother us," he remarks to her with a forlorn tone, reading the latest headlines over and over again like they're going to get better.

She nips his hair playfully, and jumps over to the table, knocking his phone out of his hand.

"We are too tough," she crows, fluffing up her wings. "We are persevering. We will get through this, and so will Ukraine."

Oleh looks into her steely eyes, and hopes like hell that she's right.

~

Flight: Tymofii Muzychuk (Kalush Orchestra)

Like Oleh, Tymofii's daemon is a bird. But instead of a golden eagle, his is a nightingale. The national bird of Ukraine. "Very patriotic of me," he often jokes, and Larysa laughs along with him, in her songbird's call. She sings along with him too, sometimes, his telenka mimicking her song perfectly, together in harmony.

The members of Kalush often keep their daemons out during performances. Oleh has been known to let his daemon soar above the band, when he wants a little more applause at the end of his rap verses. Tymofii tends to keep his daemon perched on his shoulder, hiding in the crook of his neck. She's shyer than her owner. But when they're alone, she flies up as far as their bond will allow her, and they both sing to the cloudless blue Ukrainian sky. Tymofii loves those moments more than anything.

He hopes that he'll get more of them soon.

~
A/N: the situation in Ukraine never gets any less depressing, does it?

Chapter Text

Mystery: Subwoolfer

Much like the people they are bonded to, no one knows exactly what Subwoolfer's daemons are. They wear yellow costumes when out of mark form, similar to the costumes worn by Subwoolfer's backing dancers, complete with tiny sunglasses. Norwegian Forest Cats or Norwegian Lundehunds are what most people's best guesses are, but they seem to be just slightly too big for a dog and too small for a cat. Nevertheless, the "handler" of Subwoolfer has an insistent answer to the question of their daemon's species.

"They're humans," he says matter-of-factly, and Subwoolfer nod along. "Keith and Jim are wolves, so their daemons are human."

"I... I see. Why do they have four legs, then?" asks the bemused interviewer.

Keith and Jim make a crazed gesture, arms flailing about to indicate their legs, and the handler smiles.

"Because Subwoolfer have two legs," he replies.

"...alright then. What are their names?"

For the first time in the interview, the handler looks slightly panicked, and he briefly looks back at Keith and Jim.

"Their names are... Jeith and Kim. Kim is Jim's daemon and Jeith is Keith's. Say hello to them!"

Keith gives a thumbs up. Jim picks up Kim, who nods. The crowd watching the interview go absolutely wild.
~
A/N: This is one of the ones that I could totally see happening, lol.
~

Quiet: MARO

MARO (or Mariana, as most people call her)'s daemon is a Granada hare. Isaque is lively and playful, with a cheeky side that contrasts with Mariana's introversion. When she was a child they would invent all manner of games: chasing each other around the park outside her childhood home, or playing hide and seek in her bedroom, or just sitting and watching the clouds go by. It helped her a lot, back then. She was always a very shy child, and though she wanted to go and play with the other kids, she never seemed to be able to approach them. But she was always able to play with Isaque.

Now Mariana's in her late twenties, and she's long since shaken off her shyness. Most of it, anyway - nowadays she's grateful for her posse of backing vocalists, as she finds it easier to socialise when she's with a group of people that she's already comfortable with. She's also grateful for quieter moments like these - 10pm in her hotel room, flipping through whatever's on Italian television, Isaque relaxed at her side.

"Wait, go back to that one," he says, stretching his front paws out.

She fiddles with the remote, and lands on what looks like Italian MasterChef.

"I can't understand a word they're saying, Isaque," she replies.

"Which is why I want us to watch this instead of anything else. It's MasterChef, it's gotta be the same concept. You don't need to understand it exactly when you know that they're saying, 'Alright everyone, ten seconds left, smear some sauce on your plate to make it look fancy!'"

She laughs. "Clever. Honestly, I probably should be going to bed right now, not staying up watching random stuff on TV. Big day tomorrow."

He considers this, ears twitching. "I think you need to relax, but that doesn't always mean going to sleep, if you get what I mean."

"So you think sometimes it means watching Italian MasterChef at 10pm?"

"Exactly. Glad we're on the same page."

Mariana smiles, and Isaque twitches his nose, wild eyes glinting.

~

Reassurance: Amanda Tenfjord

Amanda Georgiadis Tenfjord's daemon is a Eurasian crane. It's rare for any animal to be equal parts Greek and Norwegian the way she is, so some kind of migratory bird was inevitable, she supposes. In Greek mythology, the elegant dance of cranes was said to represent joy, and he does bring her a lot of happiness. Many a bad day has been made better by running her fingertips through his soft feathers, from the red stripe on the top of his head to the ends of his wingtips.

"Elias," she calls, and he materialises out of the mark form on her back and shoulder, with a ruffle of feathers. Ocean blue eyes meet beady black ones.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to ask you - do you think I'll do well, in the contest? And my exams?"

He dips his elegant beak. "I know you'll do well. And I know you better than anyone."

She smiles.

~
Her new songs are really good! Stream Plans and All In!
~

Shout: Zdob si Zdub & Advahov Brothers

Roman Igaupov's daemon is a wild boar. Warrior queen of the forest, she matches his crazy leadership style. It's what makes Zdob si Zdub so successful, he thinks - no matter who's playing, whether they've been in the band for years or are just temporarily collaborating, he does his best to make them feel like old friends.

"Alright everyone!" he yells, just before rehearsal. "Before we begin, I want us to do an exercise. Let your daemons out."

There's a brief moment of silent confusion, and then a flutter of feathers and ruffle of fur as everyone in the room lets their daemons free.

"You see, in life, we pick up all these negative energies. And we don't want to take these energies into rehearsal today, oh no! We want to be at our best. So I have an exercise for us today." He looks over at his daemon, and she bares her teeth in a wild grin. "What I want you to do is, take a deep breath, and on the count of three - just shout. Make a noise! And make it loud - let's confuse the neighbours. Your daemons should make a noise too, which is why I asked you to get them out. Ready? One, two, three!"

And then the room is filled with a cacophony of boar grunts, bird calls, a saiga's growl, and of course human shouting. Roman smiles among the chaos.

When the noise finally dies down, he says only one word.

"Better?"

The answer is a resounding 'yes'.

~
A/N: This is based on a real exercise that my old theatre teacher did just before our first show. Except it didn't go as well as it did in this fic, since he gave us the whole spiel about 'negative energies' and 'letting them out' and whatnot, but the problem was, he never mentioned the word 'shout' or 'scream'. So he did the "three, two, one" thing, and there was only a couple confused shouts, and then he spent the next five minutes telling us off for "being afraid to scream in front of everyone else", when in reality we just had no idea what to do. Yeah. There's a reason why I didn't join Production this year.

But at least it makes for a great plot point, cause I was kinda stuck about what the hell I'd do with Zdob si Zdub. Especially because - please don't kill me for this, lol - I didn't even particularly like Trenuletul. Lmao.
~

Powerful: Mahmood

Mahmood (or Alessandro, as most people call him, or Ale, to his close friends)'s daemon is an Aesculapian snake. His name is Mercurio - his mother favoured the old trend of giving your children's daemon a rare name. And - bless her - she never cared that his daemon was also male. Unlike all the interviewers and journalists and everyone who wants to know everything about his life, his relationships, his sexuality... He's managed to shake most of them off now. Still, the odd invasive question does come his way, on occasion. Mercurio's name suits him, though - his delicate pattern of scales and soft voice give him an elegant look. But his bright red eyes also project an air of power - I am not hostile, but if you hurt me or Alessandro, you should watch out.

His biological father's daemon was also a snake - an Egyptian cobra. He loved that his daemon also settled as a snake when he was younger, but as he grew older he also grew to resent that fact. Mercurio's species was just another thing that reminded him of how much of a deadbeat his father was. But he's even older than that now, and he's shed his anger like snakeskin, and grown into his own life. Risen above. Become stronger.

And in a more literal manner of speaking, that was what he was doing now. Pull-ups on the frame in his room, with Mercurio wrapped around the bar. Because if he kept having to do shirtless photoshoots for magazines, he'd better get fit.

"How many has it been?" Alessandro grunts.

"Four sets of three, by my count," his daemon replies, in his sibilant voice. "So, twelve, and three more to go."

Alessandro nods his thanks - his core is burning too much to speak - and slowly pulls himself into three more, concentrating on his breathing. Exhale as you pull up - hold - inhale as you lower yourself down. He finishes the last one and lands on the floor with a thud.

"Good job," Mercurio encourages, slithering down the side of the gym frame.

"Yeah," he exhales, stretching out his arms. Mercurio takes the opportunity to slide onto his sweat-covered shoulders. "You want to go back into mark form?" he asks, holding his right arm out expectantly.

"Sure," he says, fixing him with his red-eyed gaze. "But - promise me you won't work yourself too hard, right?"

"I won't," Alessandro promises, and with a flash of light Mercurio disappears into a scale-patterned mark on his forearm.

~

Howl: Blanco

Blanco (or Blanchito, or Riccardo, or simply Ric)'s daemon is a European jackal. Clever, social, and a little bit crazy, they make a good match. Leila took quite a while to settle - until he was almost 14, and given his young age, that was only a couple years ago. Maybe it was indecisiveness, maybe it was that jackals are very rare where he was born, or maybe they simply had too much fun being young and free together. But everyone has to grow up eventually, and as Leila became a jackal, a beautiful creature with a tawny gold pelt, so Riccardo became Blanco, a handsome teen idol with just the right mix of punk attitude and angelic voice.

Since then, he's been on a constant trajectory to stardom. Sanremo was the final step on his path to legend status - he's almost not worried about what happens at Eurovision, as to him the hard part is over. Still, there's a part of him that wonders - what if he messes it up? It's lonely at the top - he knows that all too well. So if he says or does something wrong... At least he has Alessandro, to coach him through the media circus.

He's distracted by the sound of church bells echoing in the distance. Must be midday, he thinks, though it's hard to tell because he sleeps late. And as the bells sound a second time, he feels a slight itch along his side - where Leila's mark form lies. So he releases her, and with a shake of her mane, she lifts her head and begins to howl along with the bells.

And he sings along with her, not caring what the hell the people in the hotel hear through the thin walls. Who gives a fuck about what they think? Howling with Leila is a unique joy that only he knows. And for that he is forever grateful.

Chapter Text

Preen: Andromache

Andromache's daemon is a Eurasian golden oriole. Serafeim's striking gold-and-black feathers and melodic, flute-like song make him as glamourous as Andromache herself. Indeed, they share a lot of traits: confident yet a little shy, pretty but also clever.

And of course, after a long day, there's nothing that they love more than a good, warm bath.

Andromache swishes her hand in the tub, and smiles as she feels the warm water heat her fingers. With a happy sigh she enters the bath, sinking until only her face is out of the water, before sitting back up again.

If she closes her eyes, she can feel that Serafeim's also feeling content, over in the hotel bathroom's sink where she set him up a little birdbath. Daemon bonds are funny like that, the way each can just about feel the sensations of the other. She opens her eyes again to watch him bathe, fluttering his wings in the water. It's fascinating, watching him carefully preen the dirt from his feathers.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks, and he hops up onto the tap to look over at her.

"Oh, definitely. You?"

"Yeah. I think we really needed this, after how crazy things have been recently."

"True. It's good to relax." He flits back down into the makeshift birdbath, and continues preening.

She should probably get to washing herself, too. She starts with her hair, slowly working the conditioner through her long locks. Carefully separating the tangles out with her fingers, she notices Serafeim watching her, from where he's perched up on the side of the sink.

"A bit of preening is good for the soul, don't you think?" he comments.

"Absolutely."

And so, they stay in their respective tubs until the water goes cold.

~
A/N: While researching this I was like "Okay, well she seems like a songbird kind of person, so I'll just look through a list of Greek birds and pick one, simple as that." Turns out there's actually a lot of birds in Greece, and I mean a LOT. Eventually settled on an oriole, cause they're pretty and have a nice song. Except for the whole screechy jay call thing, lol.

Also - I know I kinda promised Citi Zeni, but I was really stuck for ideas, and Ela and If You Were Alone have been coming up on my mixes a lot recently.
~

Style: Monika Liu

Monika Liu's daemon is a cat. Frankly, what else could it be? Not just any cat, too - a European wildcat, with sleek grey fur and pale, knowing eyes. Monika and Markas. They make quite the pair! Usually, he's slung around her neck, or lounging in her arms, but in mark form he slinks along her back, paw prints either side of her spine. It's perfectly framed in the backless dress she wore at the National Final that she won. Which may have influenced her decision to wear it at the Grand Final.

Which may in turn help her chances. As it turns out, Markas is quite popular with the fans of Eurovision. He's content to sit silently in Monika's arms most of the time, but the occasional sarcastic comment in his characteristic drawling purr has earnt him a fanbase almost as big as that of Monika herself.

"It's because of your good looks," she tells him, and he yawns. "It's just like I always say - a bit of style goes a long way."

"Did you mean for that to rhyme?"

"Not particularly. Guess I'm just talented."

"And you accuse me of having a big head."

Markus blinks slowly, in the cat equivalent of a lazy grin. Monika grins too.

~
stan the president of lithuania monika liugend
~

Serenity: S10

Stien Den Hollander's daemon is a stag. A beautiful red deer, with a sonorous voice and a gleaming coat of auburn fur. He, like many daemons, is too large to follow her around in everyday life, so for much of the time she keeps him in mark form. And so, often the mark of a pair of antlers adorn Stien's chest, reaching up from her sternum to just below her collarbones, complementing the tattoos scattered across her arms and neck. Still, she tries to let him take physical form as much as is practical. She can feel his pain when she hasn't let him out of mark form for some time - a sort of nervous shiver up her spine, an agitated urge to move, see, exist.

About half an hour away by train from Stien's new apartment is a national park, that she visits often. And sometimes, on lucky days with just the perfect mix of cloud and sun, she sees the wild red deer that roam there freely. And, with a soft whisper of "Adriaan," her daemon springs forth from just above her heart, to walk at her side like a vision of a forest goddess and her ever-present wild other half.

The wild deer do not stir or turn to run when she gets closer - merely stare with a wise, watchful gaze.

~
A/N: This was actually the first one I wrote for this. Because I love S10 lol, she's so pretty and her song is amazing and she's so sweet in interviews too. I just... girls <3 <3 <3

(also Laat Me Los and Adem Je In are amazing songs, listen to them!)
~

Colours: Sheldon Riley

Sheldon Riley's daemon is a paradise parrot. His daemon is unusual for two reasons - one, that paradise parrots went extinct almost a hundred years ago, and two, that his daemon is also male. Daemons that are the same gender as their owners are rare, but more common among the queer community. So Josiah was just one of the many things that the kids in his high school would bully him for. For a time, Sheldon almost resented his daemon - Josiah's beautiful colouring only marked him as different in every sense of the word. Alone. Broken, even.

But he's stronger now. He's risen far above his old bullies, above his wildest dreams - jumping from song contest to song contest before finally arriving at the biggest one in the world. And the interviewers don't call his daemon 'faggy' like the bullies did - instead they say 'stunning', 'extraordinary', 'one of a kind'. How far he's come.

Sheldon ponders all this, whilst staring out at the sunrise from his hotel room balcony. Instinctively he raises his left arm, and Josiah flies out into the open.

"You know, we should really be getting some sleep," he says, landing on the balcony railing.

"Yeah. I'm super jet lagged."

For a moment, they stood there in silence.

"Maybe some exercise would help?" Josiah suggests. Sheldon rubs his eyes.

"I'm pretty tired from walking around all the airports. You got to hitch a ride on my arm, you lazy bird!" he teases. "But - go on then. I can tell you really want to go flying."

Josiah dips his head as if to say 'thank you', and launches himself off the railing. Sheldon happily watches him fly in arcs above his head, silhouetted against the beautiful sunrise.

~
A/N: I feel like everyone says Not The Same is overrated, so much that it's actually become underrated. Weird. It's definitely one of my favourites, but as an Australian I'm biased lol.
~

Creativity: ALVAN

Alvan (or Alexis, as he is in real life)'s daemon is a Eurasian wolf. Enora's tawny fur and deep howl set her apart as an animal like no other. And although wolves died out in Brittany a long time ago, they live on in the culture.

Culture. Now that's something he's been thinking about a lot recently. He's been trying to listen in on the Breton conversations of Marine and the Sterenns often, partially to get his knowledge of the language up, partially out of pure curiosity. He knows the language fairly well - enough to write a song in it, after all - but he just can't seem to manage the casual, relaxed way the girls speak it. Like they think and feel and dream in Breton.

Still, he tries his best to make up for it. He's found an interesting sample of a bombard - a traditional Breton reed instrument - that he's just dying to interpolate into a full song. He gets out his laptop and boots up his music production software, stretching as it slowly loads in. His right arm tingles a little, so he lets Elora out for company.

He works on the beat for a little, adding layers to what he already has, but he's barely done any work before he realises he can't seem to do any more.

"Stuck?" questions Elora, yawning. Alexis nods.

"I think so. I can't seem to get this kick drum to work with the sample. I've tried about five different ones, but none of them seem to work."

"Hmm. Play the whole thing for me so I can listen."

He scrolls it back to the beginning and hits play, and watches as Elora pricks her ears up, listening carefully. Birds may be the singers of the animal world, but few can hear as well as a wolf.

"Maybe pitch the drum down a few semitones? Possibly even the rest of the percussion, too," she suggests, twitching her ears. Alexis does as she says, and suddenly the whole beat seems to fall into place.

"Yeah, that works! Thank you," he says gratefully, fiddling with the reverb a little. "What would I even do without you?" He playfully ruffles the fur on top of her head.

"Make bad music, apparently," she replies, with a cheeky, wolfish grin.

~
A/N: For those of you who don't know, his new album Magma has been out for a while. In particular, I really liked Primal!
~

Lucky: Ahez

The daemons of Ahez are all mustelids. Marine Lavigne has a wolverine named Corentin, Sterenn Le Guillou has a stoat named Erwan, and Sterenn Diridollou has an otter named Mikael.

A lucky coincidence. Upon reflection, there have been a lot of lucky coincidences in their lives. That Sterenn Le Guillou's friend was sick the day that Sterenn Diridollou and Marine Lavigne first came to class at Diwan school. That there were no other seats free at lunch, so they all had to sit next to each other. That they all had an interest in learning kan ha diskan, and so they were able to form a vocal group together. For that matter, that two of them have the exact same name!

And of course, the most important lucky coincidence of all right now - a chance meeting with a electronic musician named Alexis in a bar in Rennes. That coincidence sent them all the way to where they are now - Turin, ready to perform as a guest act at the semi-final, and then at the Grand Final itself.

But tonight, Sterenn Diridollou can't sleep. It could be jet lag, or nervousness, or maybe she's just a little restless. She lets Mikael out anyway, in case he's feeling restless too. Walking into the small kitchen of her hotel room, she pours herself a glass of water, taking a long sip.

"Having trouble sleeping?" asks Marine, appearing from the doorway, and Sterenn jumps slightly, momentarily startled.

"Yeah. You too?"

"Pretty much. I can actually fall asleep, but I seem to keep waking up."

"It's weird," says Corentin, her daemon.

"Is it like that for you?" asks Marine.

Sterenn sighs. "Not really. I guess I was just... Thinking too much to fall asleep. It's nothing, really."

Marine frowns, in that way she does when she knows that one of her friends is hiding something. Like she did back when they were fresh out of secondary school, and Sterenn Le Guillou broke up with her boyfriend and was so sad she didn't tell anyone for a week.

"You sure it's nothing?"

"Well, not exactly. It's more..." Sterenn looks over at to Mikael for support, and he nods. "I guess I was just thinking - all of the other contestants are so good. There's so many that are legends in their home countries, or have multiple albums, or massive hit songs. And, you know, mostly we just play festivals... I know it's not true, but part of me feels like we're just here because we're lucky."

Marine nods, taking all of this in. Corentin speaks up.

"You know we've worked hard to get where we are."

"Of course. I just keep thinking things like this, even though I know it's not rational," says Sterenn.

"I get it. Maybe you just need to try and think about something else," suggests Marine.

"True. But what?"

"That I don't know. Maybe something that makes you happy instead of anxious, I guess."

At that moment, they're interrupted by a sleep Erwan wandering into the room.

"Can you two turn the light out and go back to your rooms? Sterenn can't sleep with the light on," he says, waving a furry paw.

"So she sent you?" asks Mikael, twitching his nose in amusement.

"Yeah."

"Never could get her out of bed for anything that she didn't absolutely have to do," comments Marine, with a laugh. "Well, goodnight then, Sterenn and Mikael."

"Goodnight, Marine, Corentin."

When Sterenn Diridollou goes back to bed, she thinks of paws running along the forest floor, and swimming through a river, and a woman's hearty laugh. And this time, she falls asleep in no time at all.

~