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cinnella · 3 years

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Name: Syro Beeks (chosen name); Nehal Desai (birth name)

Age: 24 years old

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac sign: Leo

Birthday: August 4th

Patron Arcana: Strength (Major); King of Wands (Minor)

Occupation: Combat specialist/magician

Height: 6'5" (1.95 m)

Weight: 227 lbs (102 kg)

Relatives:

Neith Desai - older sister

Aditi Desai - mother (deceased)

Dipankar Desai - father (deceased)

Banhi Desai - grandma (deceased)

Origin: Born on the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: Indian

Powers: Red (combat) magic and pyrokinesis

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, he's a solid 6.7

Backstory:

He'd been born on a very rainy day, his mother unexpectedly delivering him 1 month prematurely. His parents hadn't decided a name for him yet, so they let Neith do that instead. And looking outside the window at the pouring rain, she named him Nehal, which means exactly that.

About a year later, his parents who were mountain climbers, decided to go on a trip to the Clouded Mountains. They left their kids with their grandma, Banhi, as she wished them good luck in the mountains.

A week had passed when Banhi received news from someone who'd been on the ship with their parents. Unfortunately, while they were climbing the mountains, a storm came and threw them off balance together with a multitude of other people. Only a few of them survived.

With no one else to take care of them, Banhi made it her goal to raise her grandchildren as her own.

One day, while she went out to the market with them, to buy groceries, little Nehal was sleeping soundly in a basket, until Banhi put it down and woke him up. Both her and Neith had their attention on the vendor, so he crawled out of it and away. By the time they noticed, he was out of sight.

They searched and searched and called out to him, but to no avail. He was in someone else's arms, heading towards a new home.

Not much later, he was brought to an orphanage far away from home, in Vesuvia. There, he grew up alongside many other children and the caretakers, though he didn't really have friends. Most of the kids were mean and oftentimes bullied him for his shortness. But then a new kid came in, and stepped up to defend him from them. At first, he thought of it to be foolish.

She was even shorter than him. Small frail body, porcelain skin and black hair, and what stood out the most was her differently colored eyes. There must've been something scary about her, because the kids stopped their bullying.

That day, they became each other's first friend, and he learned that her name was Saiya, but warned him not to call her that. She hated her name. Soon, they advanced to best friends. Everything they did, they did together. Mostly mischief.

The caretakers soon realized that most of the kids had no names, and even when they named them, there was a lot of confusion and many unhappy children. So they decided to teach them to read and write when they were old enough, and on their 7th birthday, they'd let them choose a name themselves.

When he was only 5, a third kid entered their little circle. She'd declared that her name was Eris. She had sun-kissed skin, silver white hair and ice blue eyes, and as young as Nehal was, he couldn't help but get a little crush on her. The three of them became very close, almost inseparable.

Once Saiya's birthday rolled around, she changed her name to Morana, and soon enough, his own birthday came too.

And so, Nehal Desai became Syro Beeks.

Around that week, two new kids joined their troublemaking group. Both were a little under two years younger than him, one with ash blond hair and silver eyes, the other with dark skin and jade green eyes.

Syro couldn't have asked for a better family. Years and years passed by in a blur, every day a new day to do more mischief. And as he approached his teen years and 6'3 in height, heartbreaking news came with them.

The adults made it clear that when they'd turn 17, they'd need to search for a home of their own. Him and the others talked about it, each of them wanted to try and find their homeland, their relatives.

And Eris was the first to leave. They were all saddened to see her go, but they knew she had to find her family.

A year later, Morana was next, but he was not about to let her go on her own. They always did everything together, after all. As heartbreaking as it was to leave the other two, Calyx and Libelle, they had to leave.

Their first stop was the Southern Spines, but much to their disappointment, they discovered nothing of her family. Then, they traveled across the land once more and took a ship towards the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, where one of the adults had found him.

Although he didn't know the place in the slightest, it was like his heart was calling to him, leading him. A couple of hours later, Syro came face to face with a woman.

Pink hair, indigo eyes and the same skin complexion he had. The same strong nose, plump lips and powerful jaw. Undeniably, they must have been related. But what clicked to him was her height. It's not everyday you meet someone who is almost as tall as you are.

She burst into tears and whispered his name... Probably his birth name, as she hugged him. As awkward as it was for him, the hug felt right.

The woman asked for them to follow her to her home and explain everything. There, Syro found out her name was Neith and that she was his older sister. He didn't quite believe it, until she pulled out a painted picture Banhi had done of them so many years ago, a 9 years old Neith holding her baby brother, who had jet black hair and magenta eyes just like him.

Many more hours passed, and both Morana and Syro decided to spend a few days with Neith. When they left, he promised to visit her when he had the time.

Once again in Vesuvia, he focused on learning to fight. It was something he'd wanted to do ever since he was little, but never found the time for that. Later on, he learnt to incorporate magic into it, becoming a skilled fighter and magician all the same.

When the Red Plague washed over them, he fleed together with Morana, Calyx and Libelle, but the latter two took to their own path, splitting in pairs. Eris refused to leave, for whatever reason.

They were heartbroken to learn that she'd died, and until then, they hadn't realized she was their anchor, their bridge. He remained with Morana, and the other two stayed with each other.

3 years later, he came back to Vesuvia after Libelle contacted him about Eris possibly living. He of course, didn't believe it in the slightest until he saw her alive and well, walking the streets of Vesuvia. But she didn't recognize him.

He met Asra that day too, who explained to him what happened and warned him about the consequences of trying to bring back her memories.

When she was assigned on late Count Lucio's case to catch his murderer, he volunteered to help her with the on-ground investigation, as it could be very dangerous.

That's how he met Julian.

And soon fell in love with him.

Personality: stubborn, flirty, adventurous, reckless, respectful, polite, self-less, aggressive, competitive, destructive, playful, sarcastic, loyal, sincere, open-minded, pessimistic, a little childish and a tease

Interesting facts:

Although he's very fond of any sun-themed objects, he hates heat. He prefers cold weather.

The scars on his arm are from a bear attack that happened while in the Southern Spines, and he also has one in his left palm.

Unlike the others who are mainly right-handed, he's left-handed. It's why he crosses his arms that way.

Never flinches at bitter or sour tastes, nor at strong alcoholic beverages, he actually likes them.

In total, he has 15 piercings. 5 in each ear, 1 on the right side of his nose, 1 in his right eyebrow, 2 in his lower lip and one in his tongue.

His first kiss was Eris. (And vice versa)

He got the sun-moon tattoo on his cheekbone when he was 15.

He has a second tattoo on his chest, of two entwined snakes.

Loves jewelry with a passion, he cannot go a day without at least wearing a ring.

Appearance: Umber skin tone, shoulder-length wavy jet black-blue hair, magenta eyes, inverted triangle body shape with a strong build

Familiar: Cynthia, a kind and sweet rainbow boa

Voice claim: Chace Crawford

Full sprite:

HERE HE IS, EVERYONE'S FAVORITE BUFFY SWEETHEART!!!

I didn't realize just how much more complicated his design would be compared to Eris' until I got down to actually design it.

But boy am I proud!! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

SHOW MY BOY SOME LOVE, PLEASE!!

Edit: I forgot to add his scars.. T-T

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #syro beeks

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phoenixkadeu · 3 years

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petrol blues.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Love. Love is the warmest colour. Petrol blues.

the faintest of sounds assaulted the fire elementalist’s ears, a distant sound that was begging him to grasp onto reality. calloused hands tapped his bruised skin, released him of the shackles they had forced upon him but he had yet to realize that.

blue orbs moved beneath the skin of his eyelids, lost in a state between dreamless sleep and the harsh reality. it was a blessing, a short lived one as he finally opened his eyes, he looked at the woman above him, barely had time to analyze her features before deciding to close his eyes again.

nothing on his body ached despite having just endured one of the worst fights he had ever been involved in, his mind was still too confused to remember anything. he had no idea who that woman was and for a second he had even forgot who he was, all the memories of what had just happened were gone from his mind.

“asra, I’m gonna slap you hard if you don’t open your eyes again, I’m not joking” the voice was harsh, gifted him a headache and some clarity. tanya had counted ten dead bodies after she had arrived, but she was sure there were more, she knew what this meant, it worried her, but there were other matters to take care of, more important ones.

“I swear you brat - ” and before the palm of her hand could collide with his face, he opened his eyes again, wide. “What happened? Did they take her?” the older questioned and the memories lost on asra’s mind came flooding back.

a lit cigarette rests between his lips, hands deep in his pockets as his feet carry him through the familiar narrow streets of his neighbourhood. it does not bother him anymore the lack of children playing outside or the lack of sound that came from vivid bits of conversation shared between neighbours, most had taken refuge in the inside of their own homes only coming outside if necessary.

what asra did not know is that the calm he had been feeling was close to an end. he takes a turn, someone grabs onto his jacket from behind, his cigarette falls to the ground as he turns around quickly, one hand reaching out to grasp onto one of the other’s arm as his other hand immediately goes for the throat.

“ah fuck, you scared me, man. sorry” asra retreats his hands from the old man, apologizing even though he feels like his reaction was well placed. this man had been around since asra was born, always greeting him and his family everytime they passed in front of his house, asra had no idea how old he was but considering everyone knew him it was not hard to guess.

“you have to go home, kid, they came knocking on our doors minutes ago, took our food, punched some of us who wanted to fight or refused to do as they wanted” the words were hurried and quiet, asra had to crouch down a bit in order to understand the old man and as he did, wrinkled hands gripped him by the lapels of his jacket, pulled him until they were almost touching foreheads and then all of asra’s world crumbled down. “they are looking for water elementalists, someone told them your mother’s name, they know she’s been helping. they are going to take your mother, boy, hurry up!” asra was pushed, almost fell down in a stupor, the man ran back to his house away from any prying eyes and away from asra’s sight.

and then asra ran, did not look back even once, the only sound that echoed in the neighbourhood were his footsteps and his steady breathing. he did not have any time to think about whether those words were true or not, he could do that later, he was only focused on getting to his house.

once he was close enough he saw a group of men outside, the front door to his house had been kicked down and before he could react he saw two men coming from the inside, presenting a calm demeanor as they spoke with the rest of the group. asra did not stay for the rest, he knew his parents were not home and there was only one place left for them to be.

his father’s tavern.

asra opened the door in a rush, snow coming in through the open door. his mother was behind the bar, towel in hand as she cleaned some glasses, his father sitting in one of the bar stools calmly talking about something until asra’s sudden appearance made them stop what they were doing.

“you have to get out of here, now” he pointed at his mother, offered no explanation as he approached them. palms met the clean surface of the bar countertop, he pushed himself up until he was able to swing his body above it, landing beside his mother. his hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her backwards, but his mother was having none of it, her hands reached out to grip his face in a warm embrace.

“please, talk to me, what is happening?” this time her sweet tone was not enough to make him calm down, his chest felt heavy as he looked into her blue eyes, hands leaving her shoulders to grasp her hands, pulling them away from his face. asra had painted that frown on her face but he had no time to apologize.

“you have to leave, those fuckers snitched on you after you had nearly killed yourself just to help them and now someone is coming for you, I’m not sure who but you have to leave” he did not shout, did not even appear angry, but that all changed once his mother decided to reply.

“oh. is that all, dear? that’s fine” her lips stretched into a soft smile, kind eyes staring back at him. “it’s no surprise, so you have to let me go, I don’t want any of you getting hurt, alright?”

asra looked back at his father, gave him a pleading look. he knew his mother could not fight in the condition she was now, still weak, still recovering from exhaustion and that was one of the reasons why he could not sit still and let them take her, who knew what they would do with her? he would not sacrifice his own mother just so she could be a part of their little games.

his father gave him a nod, looked at his wife and said “we’re sorry” asra saw the way her face twisted, desperation evident on her face as her own son pushed her into the pantry, locking her from outside.

suddenly there were two loud banging noises, one coming from his mother who was calling out their names, begging from them to let her out and let her go and one coming from the front door. his father reached for behind the counter and pulled a ridiculous long knife.

asra waited behind his father. the sounds coming from outside got louder, drowned out the hoarse screams coming from his mother and after a few minutes the door feel to the ground in a loud thud, a group of men came in uninvited. asra looked at them and shouted, “hey there, you guys want a drink?”

everything was going well. sure he had basically burned the entirety of his father’s tavern, but he did not care, there was something bad inside of him and it had just came out to play. he could not see anything beyond those men, their faces, their weapons and how willing they were to die just to get to his mother.

his father had taken down three man, before one finally got to him. he did not call out for his son, simply accepted his own fate because he knew that asra would take care of it, he would give his life if it meant that his child and his wife were safe.

asra had killed more people than he could count, too lost on his task to notice the almost fatal blows his father had suffered. he was sure someone had called for more men because the amount of them seemed infinite, every time asra turned around there were more.

but then the only person who could make him stop appeared, the one asra was protecting and simultaneously the one kol’s men had been looking for.

“asra stop!” her fingers were bloody, her face drowning in her tears as she crouched down beside her husband, clutched onto his clothes desperately. it threw asra off, gave them the opportunity to grab him, shackles surrounded his ankles before pulling them, making him fall to the ground, his head hitting the side of a table in the process.

this is what she wanted to prevent, the savagery that clubs were known for. she wished she had the time to explain herself better before they got attacked, she wished she had the time to come up with a plan that did not end up with her losing her family. she was not afraid of fighting back, she was not afraid of what would happen to her if she ended up being taken, she was afraid of this.

“look at your father!” and asra looked, blamed himself for not paying attention to the one that was fighting beside him. he struggled against the chains around his ankles and wrists as he watched them pull his mother away from his father.

“don’t touch her!” he shouted, tears burning his eyes as he trashed around until someone pulled him by the hair so he could stand on his knees. everything ceased once he felt something covering his mouth, angry eyes widening once he understood what it was.

“these fuckers can spit fire too did you know?” the one behind asra spoke, he heard some other laugh and in that moment asra swore once he got out of here he would kill every single one of them.

“yeah, we should warn kol about these traitors” kol. the ace of clubs. the responsible for all of this. “you just chose the wrong side, don’t make us come back to finish you”

Unfortunately these men were the one’s who had chosen the wrong person to mess with and as they hit asra across the head, his last thought was that he was gonna throw this whole territory upside down until he found his mother.

#ok part 2 here we go #forgot to say where the other quote was from so I'll try to add the source to the other post bc it's a great poem #this one is basically the one that gave me the idea for the title lol #bc love is the warmest color and Asra is gonna make them feel the heat!!!!#it's from the song Nara by alt-j #another relative makes an appearance in this one I really need to finish that family tree task #this is Asra's aunt Tanya #his dad's sister #also a water elementalist but she did not go to the academy #she's basically a feminine version of asra lol #also this is just super long I'm so sorry so don't feel the need to read this I'm gonna do a part 3 because this is just a lotttt #but yeah this is how everything went down #what asra is going to do after this will be on part three which I'll try to post today too and try to keep it very short #and yes they muzzled asra #he can't even spit fire yetttt #he did not like that at all #angryteddyarc #excuse any mistakes on this #petrol blues pt2

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saeyoungchoismaid · 4 years

Text

Requests!

Last Updated: Tue. Sept. 15, 2020

check out this link

I am not including requests for events! If you want to see those, go to the masterlists and look at the top for the event for that fandom!

These are in order for when I received them! Please note!!!! Just because yours is above someone else’s, it DOES NOT mean yours will be written before anyone else’s. Also note!!!! Just because yours is on here, it DOES NOT mean I can change my mind and decide not to write it!! ❤️

if you see one you really like or whatever, comment or send an ask, so I’ll know that it’s one that’s requested by more than one person!! ✧ means that the request has a vote, meaning it will probably get done faster since more than one person wants it

the requests that are all italicized are the ones that have some priority over others

if you see yours and I got something wrong, please do tell me!!

some of these are 18+. You’ve been warned

Table of Contexts:

Mystic Messenger - 8 requests

The Arcana - 11 requests

Obey Me! - 76 requests

Total: 97, not including event requests :)

multi fandom:

the three Luci’s in a house with an mc that refuses to call any of them by their full names. Or just keeps calling them Luci habitually. Confusion ensues

Obey Me characters meet the Mystic Messenger characters

Mystic Messenger:

dom!Saeyoung - ✧

mirror sex w/ Saeyoung

hcs w/ all of the rfa members + V where mc is a cat mom

hcs w/ the boys w/ a mc who is a hacker (or a runaway agent) in hiding

hcs w/ Zen dating a mc who is a professional athlete

fluff or smut hcs/scenario w/ Saeyoung

sub! Saeyoung w/ dom!reader

hcs w/ RFA + V with a s/o who’s asexual but always likes to confuse them with sounding dirty but they actually mean doing a fun activity

The Arcana:

hcs w/ the boys w/ a chubby female s/o

nsfw content w/ Lucio

fluffy or angsty hcs for Julian or Lucio w/ a kid mc

three different requests to just write ANYTHING for Asra lmao. One request suggests swimming together though, so ima do that

the boys’ reactions to their s/o on their period

reader telling the boys she’s pregnant

scenario w/ Julian and Lucio are huge theater nerds

hcs/reactions of the boys w/ a gn!s/o who’s scary good at hiding

soulmate au w/ Asra where you see colors when you first meet them and see black and white again when your soulmate dies

sub!Muriel

the boys’ reactions to mc being an exotic dancer

Obey Me!:

hcs w/ Beel, Lucifer and Mammon w/ a small, shy s/o that has never really kissed anyone or been in a relationship so they're extremely shy and scared that they'll mess up the relationship or they won't be good enough

hcs or scenario w/ Asmo and/or Mammon where mc is sad and hurt about that and won't talk to them after but instead make quips about the succubi and how humans must simply suck while eating tubes of ice cream w Beel to combat the sadness

extra fluffy, spoiler free smut w/ Lucifer

smut w/ Beel after a workout

hcs/reactions of the demon boys w/ their s/o who is taller and a body builder

nsfw content w/ Satan whose f!mc has a praise kink

fluff w/ Belphie who has an s/o that loves to cuddle

brothers’ reactions to f!crush going to a lingerie party with other female demons

nsfw imagine where Lucifer thinks Asmo and mc are fooling around when, in reality, they’re not. Jealously ensues and ends with fluff

hcs where the demon brothers react to an mc who is scared of storms. The brothers have to comfort them when there's a bad one that puts the power out

reactions of all the boys to mc wearing an occult symbol that protects one from demons

hcs/scenario where mc is being scolded by Lucifer and is struggling to keep a straight face because the other brothers keep trying to distract her from behind Lucifer in different ways

smut scenario where mc is a sadistic, dominant top and Mammon is a masochistic, submissive bottom

hcs w/ the brothers where mc asks if they can sleep with them after having a nightmare - ✧

hcs where the brothers comfort mc about their past experience (trigger warning)

hcs/scenario w/ a gn!mc that ensues a nerf gun war and destroys them all

hcs w/ the boys with a f!reader who, on the outside, seems like a tomboy, but secretly likes painting their nails black, doing aesthetic makeup, and dressing up in secret. Then, one day, the boys find them

sfw or nsfw scenario of Mammon and mc baking together

hcs w/ the brothers where the search for mc in the human world and finds out they are in an abusive relationship

hcs w/ the brothers and diavolo with a short but extremely angry s/o

soulmate au scenario w/ Lucifer where he has a dream that he dances at a ball in Diavolo's castle with a girl and the dreams becomes a reality

hcs or scenario w/ Diavolo where his s/o is small and underweight who struggles to to gain weight

hcs w/ Lucifer and/or Diavolo comforting an insecure reader

the brothers’ reactions to a mc that has trouble sleeping and gets hallucinations - ✧

nsfw scenario w/ Mammon where he confesses to mc and they have their first time together - ✧

mc flirting with Solomon

Mammon getting caught w/ his s/o in a hot makeout sesh

brothers’ reaction to mc singing “no don't touch me there, that is my no-no square.”

scenario where Mammon and f!reader are secretly dating and one day the brothers discover so after reader accidentally calls Mammon a pet name in front of them

the boys’ reactions to mc calling them daddy? By accident or just unexpected nsfw

reader telling the boys she’s pregnant - ✧

mc giving the demonimals (demon animals) ear scratches (during the Paws Event)

the boys’ reactions to mc turning into a bunny (during the Paws Event)

nsfw scenario where mc dresses up as little red riding hood for big, bad, wolf Lucifer (Paws Event)

hcs where mc, who is usually very against touching and contact, gets all touchy feely when the boys grow animal characteristics (during the Paws Event)

anything for cat!Satan (during the Paws Event)

nsfw dom!Belphie scenario w/ fox!Belphie and f!mc that cuddle - ✧

nsfw hcs w/ Beel or Satan (during the Paws Event)

scenario where mc takes a nap with fox!Belphie (during the Paws Event)

fluffy scenario where mc gives cat!Satan catnip (during the Paws Event)

sfw or nsfw hcs where Asmo finds fallen angel!mc covered in blood - ✧

nsfw hcs w/ jealous!Simeon over a f! or gn!reader

Satan smut because I have no choice

hcs w/ a sociopath/assassin!mc that starts to care and have feelings for the boys

scenario w/ Asmo where f!reader has trouble expressing herself both with femininity and her emotions. Asmo decides to pamper her and help her

Simeon giving head

“Simeon x mc stuff”

The brothers’ reaction to an mc who has a really big nose and is very insecure about it

the demon brothers’ reaction to an mc with short hair

hcs for how the demon brothers would treat their mc the day after their wedding - ✧

hcs of the demon boys receiving a booty call from mc

hcs where Barbatos and gn!mc cuddle

I don’t really know if this one is a request but I’m doing it anyway because I love pain. scenario where mc comforts Mammon about his brothers always picking on him and he says he's used to it even if deep down it hurts

hcs w/ the brothers + Diavolo where mc has cancer and is very fragile and weak

hcs of Mammon helping mc w/ math

hcs or scenario w/ Diavolo x f!reader x Simeon

innocent back hug hcs w/ da demon bois

how the demon boys eat their f!s/o out

nsfw scenario w/ Levi where a spicy makeout sesh leads to more

the demon bros’ reactions to a really clumsy mc

brothers’ reactions to mc catching them jerking off while saying mc’s name - ✧

nsfw/sfw hcs for an mc being a nun/priest for Halloween and having the demon bois react to them

hcs or scenario where the bros and mc react to seeing a genderbent version of themselves and vice versa

hcs where the brothers are w/ a dominant f!mc

nsfw imagine where Beel is eating out gn!mc and Belphie can taste it because of their twin telepathy and praises mc to orgasm

hcs/reactions of the brothers w/ a mc that has imposter syndrome

hcs/reactions where the brothers find out that mc writes fanfiction about them

brothers’ reactions to a mc who got brokenhearted

brothers’ reactions to mc being an exotic dancer

the demon brothers’ reactions to an mc who was a victim of their respective sin

angsty/fluffy scenario where f!mc is scared of dying and Satan comforts her

smut scenario w/ Lucifer where f!mc starts teasing him before he flips it around onto her. Punishment and degrading follow

the boys’ reactions to mc calling them “my love”

soft dom bdsm hcs with a pinch of praise kink w/ Satan

brothers’ and undates’ (minus Luke) reactions to their s/o grabbing their hand and putting it against their throat

the brothers’ reactions to a f!mc being a bratty sub

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MASTERLISTS

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angorith-arts · 5 years

Text

A Hopeful Reverse Ending

So I’m changing up the ending

Julian Devorak x fan apprentice (Elris)

(Rewritten Reverse Ending)

————

The door stood solitary in the crumbling Arcane realm. The aura of the Devil’s magic was especially potent here; it seemed to leak out from under the door and seep through the cracks in the wooden frame. Elris brushed off the dampness clinging to the rickety wooden sign hanging beside the mundane looking barrier. ‘The Hanged Raven,’ it read.

Malak and Parita shuffled nervously on Elris’s shoulders, the raven and magpie both eyeing their surroundings with distrust.

Elris gently lifted her avian familiar off of her shoulder and placed black and white bird on the signpost. “Stay here, you two,” she instructed as Malak hopped up to perch alongside his corvid counterpart, “I don’t know what to expect in there.”

“Be safe...” Parita croaked in Elris’s mind. The magician scratched her familiar’s jaw, just where she liked it, and smiled as her feathers fluffed up.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She adjusted her well-worn traveling cloak as the pair of birds dismounted her shoulders, pulling the dark fabric to lay more comfortably across her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Elris turned back towards the door and grasped the rickety handle. The cracked wood and chipped paint on the door reminded her of the Rowdy Raven, a bar that had become much more popular once word got out that the man who sacrificed himself to save the world had been a frequent visitor. But something about it was... forbidding. Like something inside didn’t want Elris to enter. She hesitated on the doorstep, suddenly unsure.

Elris heard Scout sniffle impatiently behind her. She glanced at the minor Arcana, who motioned with her fluffy hands to open the door. Her heart racing, the shaky mage pushed the heavy door aside.

The light within the disembodied pub was red hued and dim, but it offered enough clarity for Elris to instantly spot the lone patron in the corner booth. They were shrouded in their own puddle of shadows, hunched over in the corner where the light could barely reach. A long, dark cloak cascaded from their caved-in shoulders and dragged the floor below. A mountain of tankards and heavy glass mugs lay scattered across the table and floor around them. The swinging door hit the wall with a resounding thud, and the figure jolted as if startled, whipping their head upwards to face the door.

The frantic beating of Elris’s heart slammed to a stop as the organ leapt into her throat.

Her voice came in a breathy whisper.

“...Julian?”

The figure in the corner booth bristled. Literally. Black feathers that ran along his shoulders and arms and head ruffled upwards, making him look twice as big as he really was. A surprised expression slid onto his face. Within seconds, however, his expression had soured and he looked resolutely down at the tabletop. His eyes were shadowed by heavy brows, obscuring his expression from Elris’s view.

But it was him. It was him.

“Oh my god, Julian!” Elris’s voice rang with joy. The mage moved forwards on instinct, trembling as she reached a tentative hand towards her lost love. Those eyes, that face, she would recognize him anywhere.

But that wasn’t to say Julian hadn’t changed. His time trapped in the devil’s realm had changed him in much the same way that Lucio’s servitude to the Arcana had. He wasn’t exactly human anymore.

As her eyes adjusted more fully to the dim light, Elris could see in stark clarity the extent of the changes Julian had undergone. His pale complexion and shockingly red hair had been replaced by grey colored skin and dark plumage, which started at his brow and cheekbones and traveled downwards, trailing across his shoulders and down his arms and back. They lay flat down his chest and stomach, fluffing ouwards just below his collarbone and bare hips. His legs were folded under his chair, but instead of feet, long, black-scaled talons gripped the floorboards, drawing long gashes in the wood where they rested. His hands were similarly clawed and scaled, the long, sharp nails scraping against his pewter mug as his feathered hands tensed around it.

Tension. Why was there tension? In fact, this wasn’t the reaction Elris was expecting at all. Instead of joy, instead of excitement and celebration, Julian conveyed sheer and utter hopelessness and aggression. He stared hard at the table, refusing to look at Elris. His shoulders were hunched, but the mage could see bunched muscles trembling beneath his cloak of black feathers. His sharp face was twisted in a grimace, his lips pulled upwards in a jarring sneer. Elris hadn’t seen an expression like that on his face since the front he had put on while pleading guilty for killing Lucio. His altered state only made the gesture more discomforting.

“Julian?” Elris asked tentatively, heart sinking, “are you okay?”

His claws dug grooves into the pewter mug as he slammed it down on the table with a momentous rattle. Several of the tankards clattered to the floor, and the glass ones shattered around Julian’s avian feet. His feathers rose, his eyes burned. Elris, for the first time, found Julian truly frightening.

“You’ve made your point, Devil.” Julian sneered.

Elris felt her heart stop completely. She spoke around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “...what?”

“Dissipate, fall apart, do whatever you always do when I see through the illusion.” He seemed to recoil and shrink into himself then, although his cobalt eyes retained their intensity. “There’s nothing more you can take from me.”

The defeated tone of his voice made Elris’s throat completely close as tears pricked at her eyes. She choked out Julian’s name desperately, coming to the realization that this may all be hopeless. After all this time, after all they had done together, after Elris wandered the arcane realms for the stars know how long to find him, Julian didn’t even believe she was real.

“Julian, please,” pleaded the desperate magician, “I’m real, I’m here.”

“Ah yes, the begging.” Julian retorted scornfully. “You’ve done it all before.” He straightened and waved his hand dismissively. “Try something new this time, Devil.” Julian hunched back over and took another long swig of his drink.

The retort made Elris’s eyes well up. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. After we stopped the Devil I left immediately,” Elris watched as Julian’s face contorted in confusion.

“Stopped the Devil? Impossible.” He spat, but he looked unsettled. Some of the angry tension returned to his feathered shoulders. Elris continued unfazed.

“Asra said it was a fools errand. That I would never find you. He left after we found his parents here. But I knew you had to be out there, somewhere in the arcane realms. So I found Scout. Traded her my tarot deck for her help. I brought Malak and Parita-“

“Stop.” Julian hissed dangerously, rising slightly from his chair. The black feathered cloak on his back rustled outward suddenly, and Elris realized that it wasn’t a cloak at all. Julian had wings.

“Julian,” Elris tried to diffuse the tension, “I was starting to think I would never find you. I was so afraid of what the Devil did to you. But you’re here, and I can break your bonds, dispel whatever is left of the Devil’s chains.”

“Stop it now.”Julian stood, rising to his full height. He was immensely tall now, taller even than Muriel, perhaps. His clawed hands clenched at his side, his talons dug into the floorboards. His wings moved upwards and started to spread dangerously.

Desperately and thoroughly frightened, Elris tried again. “I’ve missed you,” she couldn’t keep the pleading tone out of her voice. All she had wanted was to find Julian, ever since the moment the Devil dragged her love away into the storm. “Please, Ilya. Let’s go home.”

“THATS ENOUGH!” Julian roared, his face twisting in agony and rage. He hurled his tankard at Elris, who had only enough time to drop down below the metal cup before it hit her. Instead, it clattered against the door frame, flipped itself over, and doused Elris with the alcohol inside.

The tankard fell to the floor with a heavy thunk. She shuddered to think what would have happened if it had hit her. Elris looked up at Julian, who had his back to her. His sides heaved and he trembled all over. His wings sagged. Elris could hear his ragged breathing from across the room. She moved to comfort him, but stopped suddenly short when a repugnant smell hit her nose.

Her eyes watered as though she had just been punched, her nose stinging from the strong alcohol scent. She wiped a splatter of liquid off her face. She recognized the smell.

“Ugh.” Elris made a disgusted noise deep in her throat, scowling down at her dripping clothes. There was no way that tankard could have held this much liquid; it must have been enchanted. “Did you seriously just douse me in Salty Bitters?”

Elris looked up to see that Julian had whirled around and was staring at her hard, eyes wide, wings extended, and mouth agape.

His voice was a husky rasp, full of desperation and tainted with the remnants of disbelief. “You didn’t disappear,” he stated numbly.

“Why would I do that?” The magician snapped.

“Elris?”

“In the flesh,” the magician picked herself up off the floor, holding her arms out at her sides. A drop of Salty Bitters slid off of a soaking strand of hair on her cheek. “And covered in liquor, now, thank you.” Elris added with irritation.

Julian didn’t reply. He took a shaky step forward, all of the strength he had drawn from his fury seemed to have left him. “It’s you,” he whispered as though he was afraid to say it out loud.

Elris softened. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, dingus.”

He took another step, but his knees gave out beneath him. Julian sank to the floor like all of the life had been taken out of him.

The mage rushed forwards to help him, bracing his shoulders while his hands grasped her forearms like a lifeline. “Woah, woah. Hey, take it easy.”

Julian sagged against Elris, her name falling from his lips over and over. His hands shook where they gripped her forearms, his claws digging uncomfortably into her skin. Elris saw tears drip down his beakish nose. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m here,” the mage assured him, running her hands over his shoulders and arms. His feathers were rough beneath her palms, like Parita’s felt when she hadn’t preened properly. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, darling.” Julian huffed out a shaky laugh in response.

They sat for a while and embraced. Elris couldn’t know how much time had passed; minutes, hours, one could never be sure. Time worked differently in the arcane realms, especially in ones that were actively falling apart.

“You, you can’t be here. It’s not safe.” Julian stammered eventually. His voice was raw and choked, Elris had to strain to hear him. He didn’t look her in the eye.

“I know. That’s why I had to come here. You need to come home, Ilya.”

His head snapped up. “Home? What home is there? What’s left? The Devil won. The realms collided, everything is over.” The transformed doctor shrunk into himself.

“What? No, they didn’t.” Elris replied, recoiling in surprise. “Asra and Nadia sabotaged the ceremony; they poisoned the courtiers who were lending the Devil their strength, and replaced Lucio’s blood in the pitchers with mine.”

A dry scoff. “Your blood? Really?” Julian pulled away slightly. Elris could tell his suspicions were returning.

She rushed ahead in her explanation. “I came back to life after dying, broke the laws of nature, so my blood is... different. It granted everyone immunity from the Devil’s compulsion. When the ritual failed, the Devil exerted so much of his power trying to force the realms together on his own, he became weak enough for us to bind.” Elris shuddered at the memory. The Devil’s display of power had been truly scarring, both physically and emotionally. But it had all been for nothing. With the help of Asra and the other party guests who held connections to the Arcana, Elris has been able to bind the Devil with his own chains and drag him back to his own realm.

Julian pulled away, shaking his head. “No. That’s... that’s not right.”

Elris reached forward and cupped Julian’s cheek, moving his face so he had to look her in the eye. He leaned into the contact, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he focused back on Elris’s face.

“Ilya.” She spoke firmly, but not unkindly. “We won. It’s over now.”

“That can’t be!” Julian dragged his face away from Elris’s touch. “Right now we’re- we’re in...” He trailed off. The room flickered momentarily, disappearing from sight to reveal a red-drenched wasteland of cracking stone and smoking rubble. The room flickered back into existence. He looked around in disbelief. “...are we?”

“No.” Elris asserted. “This is an illusion. We’re not in the Rowdy Raven, we’re in what’s left of the Devil’s realm. It’s crumbling and weak, but it’s the only place he still has any power.”

“No, I’ve tried to leave, the world is a wreck outside that door.” Julian pointed a clawed index finger at the open doorway.

“It’s an illusion, Love.” Elris insisted. She reached forwards and brushed her fingers over Julian’s chest, feeling the rough chains of the Devil’s bonds against his skin. They manifested at her touch. Julian shuddered. “The Devil is using the last of his power to keep you here. To get back at us for defeating him. He’s using your memories against you, trapping you in an illusion of your own subconscious making.”

Julian sagged, looking hopeless. Elris touched her forehead to his comfortingly. “I can break the chains, yours are brittle and I know how to do it.” Elris reached out to touch the chains again, but Julian reared back, wings flapping as he launched himself away.

“No! These are the only things keeping you safe from the Devil! If you break these...” he gripped the chains where they looped invisibly over his chest, “...I won’t be able to protect you.”

Elris moved forward and grasped Julian’s scaly hands with one of hers, cupping the side of his face with her free hand. “I don’t need you to stay trapped here just to protect me. The Devil is gone, we’ll be safe as soon as we leave this place. It’ll be okay.” Julian still didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m... look at me. I can’t go home. If I go back to Vesuvia I’ll be run out, and if they see you with me, you’ll be exiled too. I can’t do that to you.” He protested weakly. Elris could tell his heart wasn’t really in the attempt.

“They’ll welcome you,” she assured him, “everyone in Vesuvia and Prakra and beyond knows you as a hero. The way you look won’t change that. And the people who matter —Asra, Nadia, Portia and Mazelinka— they won’t care either. They’ll love you all the same. Just like I do.”

Julian’s eyes flicked up to meet Elris’s earnest gaze. He looked like he wanted to accept, like he wanted to be hopeful but wasn’t allowing himself to feel it.

“Please,” Elris whispered, bringing her face close to Julian’s, “let me do this for you.”

His response was minute, minuscule. Just a tiny tip of his head, a familiar look of longing in his eyes, and the barest trace of a smile on his lips. He brought his hands up to Elris’s face, touched her cheeks carefully, taking special care to keep his claws from touching her skin.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, my love?” Julian whispered breathlessly, closing the distance between them until he was tantalizingly close.

Elris answered with her lips on his.

The contact was soft and tentative, tainted with unfamiliarity from their time apart.

The kiss was brief, briefer than Elris would have liked. But when they pulled away from one another, both she and Julian were smiling. “You taste like Salty Bitters, dear.” Julian purred as he nestled into the crook of Elris’s neck. The feathers on his jaw tickled her cheek.

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” The magician retorted, stifling a laugh.

“Sorry, the illusions usually disappear after I douse them with alcohol.”

Elris chuckled. Her arms wrapped around Julian, clasping around his shoulders just above the wing joints. They sat for a while, relishing in one another’s presence and absorbing the fact that they were together again. Really and truly reunited.

Eventually, Julian repositioned and drew Elris in for another kiss. This one was longer, just as warm and savory and priceless as the first. Elris drew her hands up Julian’s chest, placing her hands over the brittle links of the chains around him. Between kisses, she whispered, “I’m going to break these.”

“Please,” Julian breathed in response before capturing her lips again.

Magic surged between them, crackling and glowing intensely. The chains burned red for a moment. Julian gasped, and they clanked to the floor, dissolving into ash as they fell.

He pulled away, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings experimentally.

“Better?” Elris asked.

“Immensely.” Julian replied, a hint of his former rakish smile flitting across his features. He kissed her once more before pushing himself to his feet, offering a hand to Elris once he was upright. She took it gratefully. They stood together, hands interlocked, and faced the doorway, which no longer looked as heavy or forbidding as it once did. The illusory pub started to dissolve around them.

“We should go.”

“Agreed.”

“Grab a drink for the road?”

“I think I’ve had enough Salty Bitters to last a hundred lifetimes.” Julian retorted.

“In that case-“The room gave a shudder, “exit stage left?” Elris asked. Julian nodded,and the pair of them dashed out of the doorway just before it melted into the ground, cut off from Julian’s deal as its power source. Only the signpost remained, the pair of corvids on it looking distinctly ruffled from the tremors. Parita jumped to Elris’s shoulder, the familiar brushing against her partner’s cheek as relief surged through their bond. Malak, still on the signpost, tilted his head and cawed at Julian, shifting on his feet.

“Hey there, old friend.” The transformed doctor smiled ruefully. Malak croaked again and hopped immediately onto Julian’s shoulder, settling himself in his usual place on Julian’s right and picking at some of the feathers there.

Scout stood up from where she was resting beneath a large, red tinted boulder in the wasteland of the Devil’s realm. She shook herself and motioned cheerfully for Julian and Elris to follow her, heading back the way they had come.

“Looks like it’s time to go.” Julian allowed a slight smile to grace his changed features.

“Already?” Elris remarked dryly.

Julian chuckled and leaned down to kiss her again, but was interrupted by a sharp bark and a stern look from Scout. Feathers ruffled, and Julian stood back up hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“We really should go,” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Elris agreed, twining her hand into his once more, “we should.”

And they walked, hand in hand, towards Elris’s gateway just outside the realm. Towards freedom, towards home, where they would never have to break apart again.

#julian devorak #reversed ending #silver lining #fan apprentice #bird julian #its still angsty but now its a little bit less bleak #*sobs*#please read this it took me like a week

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collective-laugh · 5 years

Text

Detective AU - Muriel x MC Chapter 4

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Taglist: @a-zoidberg-aesthetic @lesbiancountess @fartkittyonline @yaysam @y-all-dnt-ve @countgoatman-and-drleechboy @julians-chest-hair @vesuviass @caterpiller-tea @zaemoultrie75901 @saltywerewolfrebel @obsessedwiththearcana @thatsaltyseaman @xburningwitch @i-dont-speak-wolf @missrabbitart @softarcana

This chapter was highly inspired by ‘Private Investigations’ by the Dire Straits. @dr-devorak-will-seeyounow introduced me, and it fit the vibe, and I fell in love! I recommend listening while reading!

Also, please let me know if you would like me to put together some sort of playlist/mood music! I’ve done this before on AO3, and it really seems to help!

Thank you to everyone who has made this series such a success, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have! Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Chapter Four: Private Investigations

“You’re looking more miserable than usual, Muriel.” Ludovico leans against the handrail to the back entrance of the Raven, “Which is a feat, considering you always look miserable.”

Muriel lets the cigarette dangle from his lips, still worried about her, hoping that Julian got her back home safely, that he didn’t try anything…

If he found out he so much as laid a hand on her, he’d fucking kill him.

He didn’t really know why he cared so much, and he knew the doctor well enough to know he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything...sober.

“‘m tired.” Muriel claims, and though it’s a half truth, he wished he wasn’t so transparent, “Don’t worry about it.”

Ludovico smirks at him, tossing his cigarette butt out in the rain, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the little broad you walked in with, huh?”

“No.” He answers a little too quickly, a little too sharply.

He raises his eyebrows, unused to Muriel being anything other than quietly benign, and asks, “Who was she anyway?”

Muriel knew it was none of his business, but he didn’t mind Ludovico, and it didn’t hurt to talk to someone, he guessed. That was always Asra’s advice - “feelings” and “talking” and all that bullshit.

“You wanna, ah,” He waggles his eyebrows, “make whoopee with her?”

Never mind.

Muriel rolls his eyes, smashing his cigarette on the hand rail. Trying to talk to people was shit, and definitely something he didn’t want to make a habit.

“She’s a friend.” He claims, which...isn’t a lie. He’s known her for years now, and knows more about her than he probably ought to, considering just how little they talked. Asra liked to talk about her to no end, sparing no detail about just how much he missed her.

He hopes she’s gotten home safely, that she’s managed to fall asleep so she doesn’t muck up her interview with the Countess later.

The Countess...he could hardly believe that the Countess of Vesuvia herself had resorted to a backwater private detective, no offense to her or Asra. She held no real title outside of being insanely rich and being the former wife of the most prominent crime boss in the city.

Lucio sickened Muriel. The thought of him made him sneer again, and the mere idea that someone could pull the right strings and make the right deals with the right people, and all his problems, all the sick shit he did, could just disappear.

“A friend, huh? Well, the last friend I had like that ended up in my bed, compadre.” Ludovico raises his brow, his sleazy intentions obvious, “You could always give her my number if she doesn’t have someone waitin’ for her at home.”

He was about to say she did, that there was Asra or maybe even Julian waiting for her back at the office, that she wasn’t going to be in that dank little hole all on her own.

Maybe it was selfish. It was definitely selfish to want to be the one waiting for her.

He curses himself, wondering when the hell he started considering her as anything more than an acquaintance he kept at arms’ length. He’s itching for another cigarette, especially as he’s facing the stupid grin on Ludovico’s face. Instead of lighting another, he’s looking at the watch on his wrist. It was a quarter past five, which meant he was free to go.

“Maybe.” He says, trying not to sound so cryptic, but, like Asra said, it was a second nature to him.

He debates stopping back by the office. He’d sent Jules home with her around midnight, and he did want to make sure she was alright. But, something she said to him earlier stuck out like a sore thumb, something about how she could walk herself home.

She was still a grown woman, even if she couldn’t really remember who she was, and he wasn’t certain she’d be all too thrilled about his breathing down her neck.

He does light a cigarette, with Ludovico yelling something crude about her after him, and he shuts his eyes for just a moment, trying to steady himself. It had been a long night, and he was so tired, but he needed to check on her, to make sure she got home alright…

The nagging voice in his head telling him to leave her be wins, despite his instincts screaming at him to do otherwise. He walks the opposite direction, straight back home.

His place is small, modest, and...decidedly not comfortable. The landlord insisted on no pets, but as soon as she saw Muriel, she made an exception, considering she claimed, “ruffians’ll go running soon as they see you, boy!” He couldn’t live anywhere without Inanna, he knows, and was thankful to the lady - Nonna Linka, as she insisted on being called - for letting him stay.

She wasn’t up yet, like anyone with sense, so he’s alone on his trek up the single flight of stairs. He isn’t surprised to find his door unlocked, considering the damn thing had been broken for months now, and all but collapses in bed alongside Inanna.

He dreams of her, of happier times, and wishes things were simpler than he made them out to be.

She’s scrambling to get dressed.

It’s embarrassing; the first time in months she’s had a case, and actual, honest to God interview with a client, and she’s running around like a headless chicken trying to gather everything she needed. Asra would have been no better, she knew, waiting until the last minute for everything, but she refuses to think of him now, today, at least until she’s gotten this interview over with.

It was a murder case. Not only a murder case, but a case surrounding the Lucio Morgason. It was more than she ever could have asked for, and she was squandering it because she could quite reach the button on her dress.

Once she’s certain she’s gathered everything - and certain that she’s forgotten at least one thing - she’s out the door, only half remembering to lock it and turn the tacky neon signs off. She only barely catches the train to the Heart District, and knows she must look a mess.

A gorgeous socialite looks at her, all legs and brown hair tied up in some elaborate braid, lips painted a red far too improper for the time of day, and arches a perfectly sculpted brow, as if the very sight of her was amusing.

It was enough to send her blood boiling, and remind her exactly what she was here for.

Nadia’s house - estate, mansion, whatever - is only a seven minute walk and a four minute run from the train station, and she makes it with five minutes to spare before she was considered tardy. It takes two minutes to have her looking presentable again, another three to even reach the door and be led inside by a butler - butler! - one to have her coat taken, and another seven before she even sees Nadia.

She’s the picture of perfection, and puts that socialite from the train to shame, effortlessly beautiful with her long, black hair, and long, golden dress. She greets her gracefully, as she does all things, and ensures that they’re alone, beginning the interview in Lucio’s private library, sitting across from one another.

“Can you tell me about the last time you saw your husband?” She asks, subtly looking over to the tape recorder to ensure that it was getting all of this. Her hand stood ready, just in case Nadia said anything important, and she settles into detective mode, trying to calm herself.

“I…” Nadia wrings her hands, eyeing the white gloves she set aside moments before, as if she was debating whether or not she really wanted to hold them. “I don’t remember my husband. The accident…” She shrugs, looking everywhere but at the detective, “I didn’t know where else to turn, detective. The law is thankful he’s dead, and his ‘friends’ are starting to call for my removal.”

“Removal?” She asks, “Removal from what?”

“I’ve been acting as an interim...boss, I suppose.” She finally meets her eyes, “You must understand, detective. This city isn’t kind to us.”

Truer words had never been spoken, but she only purses her lips before asking, “Is there anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband? Anyone he had any bad blood with?”

“He was not known for his...subtlety.” Nadia hesitates, as if the gravity of the situation was just catching up to her, “Detective, you must know that I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your services. And that the law is not to know of this.” She says it with such vindication, with such authority, that the detective feels like she has to listen.

“Don’t worry about that.” She replies, thankful her voice didn’t betray her nerves, “This conversation will only ever be heard by you, me, and my associate.”

“Asra?” Nadia inquires, like she was quizzing herself to see if she could remember his name.

The detective nods, but moves on, “Did your husband have any enemies?”

Nadia purses her lips, eyes flicking over to the tape recorder before pulling a small notepad from between the chair and its cushion, sliding it across the table toward Nadia, “I, um...I compiled a short list of people it could possibly be, or people who might have wanted him dead.”

The detective flicks through the pages, though the only writing found inside is on the first and second slips of paper. “Consul Valerius…Vulgora...these are his associates, right?”

Nadia opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and shakes her head, “They are...suspicious at the very least.”

The detective purses her lips.

This was going to be a long interview.

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dinoswrites · 5 years

Text

Clothed in Light || Chapter 4: Masquerade

Arranged Marriage AU. Asra/Apprentice/Muriel. Ongoing.

| Previous | Masterpost | Next |

It’s two weeks to Kai and Asra’s first anniversary, and it seems like the whole city has gone mad preparing. Asra’s uncle announced months ago that the entire city of Vesuvia would be welcomed into the palace for the celebrations, promising an entire week of feasting, displays of magic or art, and dancing.

It’s going to be a masquerade. Muriel’s been carving masks since he found out, whimsical animal shapes, and Asra’s been painting them, imbuing them with magic to make them shine a little brighter, and hide their wearer’s identity a little better. They’ve already sold quite a few, at Asra’s makeshift Tarot stand, but Muriel has refused to take all of the money so they’ve been putting it aside. “For a rainy day,” Asra says.

Kai is doubly busy, helping not only with preparations at the palace but also with the orders flooding her aunt’s magic shop.

“Perfumes, mostly,” Kai had explained, dark circles under her eyes as she, Asra and Muriel polish their hundredth glass bottle each. “And, um. Contraceptives. Lots of those. Aunt Jay has a lace making spell, but I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet, so I’m filling all of these orders for her.”

Asra had immediately scrutinized the closest bottle. “Is it all magic perfume, or what?”

“Pretty much all of it has enchantments to make the scent last longer when you wear it. The more expensive ones have other properties—this one will make the wearer’s eyes glow when they say the word please.”

“That’s… weirdly specific.”

“She ordered it special for her wife. And her wife ordered her that one you’re holding, Asra. It will create an illusion of horns on the wearer’s head.”

Asra’s cheeks had flushed, and he had immediately put down the bottle.

“But most of them are simpler. Oh! I almost forgot!”

She had run off, then, over to a corner of the room, and come back a moment later carrying two ceramic jars.

“I made these for you when I was practicing! You should wear them, and let me know what you think!”

Muriel had taken the heavy, earth-toned jar home with him that night. And he had opened it and smelled it—and then immediately closed it again, because it was strong, and Inanna had coughed and hacked and refused to come into the house for a solid minute, she was so surprised by it. So he shook his head and put it on a shelf, because the jar was nice enough, and forgot about it for a while.

Until today, two weeks to the masquerade, with Kai spending the night with him instead of Asra.

“I just need a break,” she had confessed in the shop that afternoon. “There’s so many people at the palace, and I’m supposed to know who they all are, and Cinis gets so upset because they always want to pet him…”

Muriel had glanced up at the cat in question. He was crouching in the rafters at the time, eyeing Asra and Muriel with his usual air of resigned tolerance. He’s grown a little over the past year, though he’s still an unusually small cat by far, and still so skinny that in spite of his fur he looks like someone put a bunch of charred sticks together and called it a cat. Not to mention that his since eyes are permanently narrowed, and glowing like hot coals, he remains the most unfriendly looking animal Muriel has ever seen.

In his opinion, anyone who tries to pet that cat deserves what’s coming to them.

“Cinis always feels better away from the city. Why don’t you have dinner at Muriel’s? Maybe stay the night?” Asra had suggested, with a sly glance at Muriel.

Muriel had glowered at Asra, who pretended not to notice.

“I still have dancing lessons…”

“I could cover for you. Say you’re not feeling well. You need a break, Kai, you’re running yourself ragged, and it’s only going to be busier once the masquerade starts.”

“You could come too,” Kai had prompted.

But Asra had only waved his hand. “I have one more dress fitting, remember? I’ll meet you both for pumpkin bread in the morning. Alright?”

Dinner is simple—they cook it together over an open fire, and as usual they don’t talk too much. It seems like Asra and Kai can talk all day about magical theory or which courtier was wearing what, but whenever Kai and Muriel are alone she draws quieter. But it feels comfortable—she’ll ask him about a plant, or a tree, as they walk, and he’ll tell her where he found the sticks for this talisman or that charm, but their time spent with one another is largely in quiet, in the softness of their steps on the soil, in the song of distant birds or the contented clucking of his chickens.

Today, Kai radiates nervousness. She picks at her food, and sighs a lot, and is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Cinis trying to steal some of Inanna’s deer leg.

The wolf puts one paw flat on his back and pins him there, ignoring his indignant howling while she continues eating.

Kai starts when Cinis cries out, and lets out an annoyed sigh when she sees him.

“I don’t know how you thought that one would end,” she scolds, when Inanna finally releases Cinis and he scampers back over to Kai. “Have some of mine if you’re still hungry.”

But even when her cat is sated, and happily curled up in her lap, she still doesn’t relax. She fidgets with her spoon, and the dinner she has barely touched, and generally radiates unhappiness until Muriel sighs, puts his bowl aside, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

She blinks up at him, owl-eyed. And then she bites her lip and looks down at her food again. “My father is arriving tomorrow.”

Muriel knows. Asra had told him, weeks ago, that Kai’s father had announced his intention to attend the masquerade. Asra’s mother has been threatening to enchant the dock planks to flip him into the ocean the moment he steps foot in Vesuvia.

“And?”

Kai shrinks in on herself. She picks at her food some more, sighs again, and finally admits, “He’s been… sending me letters.”

Muriel’s brow furrows. That, he didn’t know.

“I haven’t told anyone,” she continues. “They’re not… they’re not good letters. I stopped responding to them after the second one. I only read them just to make sure he’s not going to show up and take me away again.”

“We wouldn’t let him,” Muriel assures her.

She smiles, and a thread of fondness works its way through her anxiety. “I know that, now. I didn’t at first, but… I’m pretty sure Aunt Jay would turn him into a fish if he tried.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. “She should, anyway.”

Kai almost laughs. But then her expression falls again, and she puts her bowl aside, and tucks her knees close to her chest.

“He’s… he’s angry that Asra and I haven’t had children. And he says that I’m ungrateful, for everything he’s done for me, and that I’m not taking any of my duties seriously… And I guess he’s right, because I’m hiding out here instead of practicing my dancing…”

“So? Practice here.”

She looks at him like he’s speaking another language. “Here.”

He shrugs, and then gestures to the clearing. “It’s flat.”

She smiles. “I need a partner, Muriel.”

“For what?”

She shakes her head at him, radiating amusement. “Have you ever seen people dance before?”

“… Yes.”

“Okay, then.” She shoos Cinis off her lap, stands, and dusts herself off, before walking around the fire, and holding her hand out to Muriel. “Show me.”

He stares at her hand. “What?”

“You said I should practice here. So, dance with me.”

Part of him wants to say no. Part of him wants to roll his eyes and make a fuss over it, and then get up and go feed his chickens.

But… she’s smiling at him. And her nervousness has vanished, and she’s looking at him, not thinking of her father, or the upcoming masquerade…

“You’re close,” he tells her, moments later, as she guides his hand to her hip.

“That’s the idea,” she replies, a little embarrassed. “I uh—maybe I should lead. Asra says I can lead when we dance if I want to, he likes following better.”

“Is it easier?”

“Uh. I won’t be able to like. Spin you or anything. I’m too short.”

He gets the distinct impression that Kai was not at all expecting him to actually take her up on this. “I’ll lead,” he says. “If you… tell me how.”

She swallows. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. Um. So. You go—your right foot, first.”

“Go where?”

“Towards me.”

“Won’t I step on you?”

“No, I’ll step back when you do. You kind of like… guide me. Push me? A little? Whenever you’re ready.”

He looks down at his feet, just to be sure. It brings him closer to her, and he can smell a subtle, floral scent in her hair. A sweet flower, and something like the ocean… But not like dead fish. Nice ocean smells; salt and clear air.

She looks up at him, her eyes wide. She’s suddenly nervous again—but it feels different, this time. A little closer to excitement.

He takes a slow, halting step forward.

She does not notice, and he bumps into her.

“Oh! Sorry! I wasn’t—um. Looking.”

“This is stupid,” he says, and immediately drops her hand and takes four steps back.

“No it’s not! I’m sorry. Can we try again?”

He almost says no. But she sounds so eager, and…

They try again.

“Maybe we just… sway a bit. Pretend there’s music.”

“Sway?”

“Yeah. Get a feel for the rhythm. That… isn’t there.”

She’s very close to him. She has to crane her head back to look up at him, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

He takes a deep breath—and smells her perfume—before starting to sway.

It’s not like there’s no music at all. The sun is starting to go down, and there are birds singing elsewhere in the forest. There’s the wind in the trees around them, and the sound of the brook he gets his water from.

The sound of her breathing. The beating of his heart. There’s that, too.

Eventually, Kai takes a step, a gentle pressure from her fingertips pulling him along with her. She steps backwards and he follows, startled, but she goes slow, and steady. She smiles up at him after the first step, and then she does it again, and her smile spreads, and with each halting step they take together, he can feel her nervousness slowly fade away, replaced in strides by the warmth of affection, and the familiar, steady contentedness that he has come to associate with their time alone together.

They dance like that, or sort of dance, to music that they cannot really hear, until it begins to rain.

He can hear it before he feels it—the rush of wind in the trees as it shifts, and then the patter of water droplets on the leaves above their heads. And he knows he should hurry and get her inside, before she gets soaked, but… there’s a part of him that doesn’t want this to end. This closeness. With her.

She doesn’t even seem to notice the rain until a drop rolls from his forehead to her nose. And she blinks, startled, before laughing.

Muriel shields her with his cloak and hurries her inside—in spite of her protests—before going back out to put out the fire, and collect what’s left of their dinner.

When he finally ducks inside his hut, Inanna is curled up on his bed, and Kai has started a weak fire inside. She’s sitting on the furs before it while Cinis howls indignantly and stomps around her, tail up in the air.

“Oh you didn’t even get wet,” she scolds the cat. “Not even a drop. Oh—alright, fine, you were traumatized, you silly creature.”

Muriel closes the door behind him. The cat levels him with a withering look, before immediately climbing into Kai’s lap, standing on his hind legs, and pressing his face into her neck. He purrs as loudly as possible, while Kai sighs and strokes his back.

“You’re completely dry, you know,” she informs the cat, who only purrs louder in response.

Muriel shakes off his cloak, drops it onto his chair, and then joins Kai by the fire. She smiles up at him as he sits, and then regards the growing fire a while longer.

Muriel shoves a few more pieces of kindling in, and the logs start to take, finally.

She exhales. “Sorry. No good at fire magic.”

“S’fine. Don’t need magic for this.”

She nods, and he tries to ignore the hint of relief that she’s feeling.

He wonders how long she’s been afraid of fire. What happened, to make her that way. Maybe he’ll ask her, one day—but not today. Not in the woods, where it could break the comfortable calm that always settles between them out here.

“Muriel, can I ask you something?” she ventures, the second time Muriel uses a poker to move the logs around.

“Sure.”

“Are you an empath?”

He stills. And then he fusses with the log some more, even though it doesn’t need it. “Why?”

“Well. Aunt Jay’s been teaching me about crystals, and what they’re used for, and I noticed she always wears Malachite around you, and she has it enchanted to hide what she’s feeling…”

He doesn’t say anything. He knows he should, but he doesn’t really know what. And the longer he’s silent, the more Kai’s nervousness begins to build, and the louder her cat’s purring gets, and the more she keeps talking…

“And you just always seem to know when something’s wrong, even when Asra doesn’t, and you’re so good at just being close when I need you to even though I’m not sure you really like it…”

He clears his throat. He leans back, sitting next to her once again. He doesn’t look at her, but she stops talking anyway, her uncertainty filling the air with a sensation of grinding teeth.

“Yes,” he answers, finally.

She exhales, and relief spills out of her in a bubbling laugh. “Oh, good. That would have been embarrassing if I’d made that all up in my head.”

He can’t help but laugh, a little. A low, rumbling chuckle that just sounds so rough, next to hers.

But she only beams up at him, when he finally dares to look over at her. “That’s a very rare talent, Muriel.”

He shrugs, cheeks burning. “I guess.”

“I mean it! Is it very overwhelming? I guess I see why you’d want to live out here, away from everyone.”

He watches her as she pauses to consider the fire again. And she tries to disguise it, but the idea of living out here worries her. Or maybe, that he would rather live out here than the city.

It worries Asra, too. So Muriel’s used to that.

“What’s happiness feel like?”

He frowns, confused. “Being happy.”

“Muriel. Someone else’s happiness, I meant.”

He sighs. “Pot boiling over.”

Kai giggles, and shifts a little closer. “I guess. How about… surprise?”

“… They go blank. And quiet.”

“Blank?”

“… When everything’s too loud, so you close the door, and you can’t hear anything anymore, but the silence is loud. Like that.”

“Huh. How about… How about love?”

“Love?” Muriel pretends he has to think about it a moment. “It’s. It’s not one feeling. It’s… a lot of them.”

“Tell me about them,” Kai prompts.

He can see the reflection of the fire in front of them in her eyes.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks warm, but not looking away.

“Just try. For me?”

He… does. He thinks about people he’s passed on the street, before—and he thinks of Asra’s parents. The adoration Salim feels when Aisha combs her fingers through Asra’s hair, or the fierce protectiveness that rises so frequently from Aisha. And then he thinks of the butterflies he gets in his stomach when there’s moonlight in Asra’s hair, or when he smiles so broadly his cheeks dimple…

Or when he danced with Kai, just now, to birdsong and the sound of oncoming rain. How safe he feels, next to her, firelight in her eyes, and a subtle, sweet perfume in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Kai blurts. “That was too—personal and—I’m too close, aren’t I? I know you don’t like it, you like your space, I’m sorry…”

She gets up, and Cinis complains loudly even though she holds him close to her chest. She starts to walk towards the door, radiating anxiousness and embarrassment.

“I don’t mind,” Muriel says.

She stops. She looks, tentatively, over her shoulder. “Mind what?”

He clears his throat. “Being close to you.”

She takes a moment, as if she doesn’t quite believe him. But he does not look away from her, even though he can feel his cheeks burning like he’s shoved his face into the fire.

Eventually, she smiles. And she comes back to the fire, and sits next to Muriel.

They don’t talk again for a while—but she does rest her head on his shoulder, her embarrassment easing into comfort, and calm, and the warmth of belonging that comes with them.

The Masquerade is loud, and there are so many people, but Kalani does not step on Asra’s toes once when they dance.

She leads, after all—and Asra bends down to whisper jokes in her ear whenever she feels herself begin to falter, or when she starts to hold him too tight so it turns out alright in the end. He’s wearing the perfume she made him, and every time he moves closer, she catches the smell of patchouli and black pepper, and feels herself relax a little.

Asra does his best to keep her away from her father. At dinner she can’t even see him, and she wants so badly to find out who made the seating plan and give them the biggest, fiercest hug she can manage.

Only part of her feels guilty, avoiding him the first night.

Because she thinks of Aisha and Salim, and even Asra’s uncle, and she thinks… maybe that’s what family should be. So, maybe if she gave her father a chance, and showed him…

Wishful thinking, Aunt Jay had told her.

And Aunt Jay is… usually right. Usually.

Cinis shadows her, sometimes directly under her feet, sometimes lying across her shoulders like an overprotective scarf. He glowers at anyone who gets too close, which doesn’t always stop people from bothering her and Asra, but at least his growling gives her an excuse to leave conversations she doesn’t want to be a part of.

It drains on Asra, being around this many people.

Kalani feels like she’d be alright with it, if she wasn’t terrified her father was going to walk up and start talking to her at any minute.

As the night drags on, however, she gets separated from Asra, briefly. She lets her guard down, maybe—she sees the baker, and for a moment forgets that she’s not Kai, and he doesn’t know her. And she’s left Asra’s side before she even thinks about it, and then she loses track of him entirely.

Just as she reaches for the enchanted lepidolite pendant she’s wearing, a spell to locate Asra on the tip of her tongue, suddenly her father stands before her. Arms behind his straight, straight back, and his eyes narrowed as he looks down his nose at her.

“If I may take a moment of your time, daughter,” he says, his tone perfectly polite and civil. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

She flounders a moment. Cinis, standing at her side, lets out a low warning growl.

No, Cinis warns her. He doesn’t talk much, and it can be a little jarring to hear such a deep, threatening voice come from such a small cat.

Don’t you dare, she thinks back at the cat, as hard and loud as possible. This is a party!

“I should get back to—to my spouse.”

Her father only steps closer, ignoring Cinis entirely. “Really? You expect me to believe you have any relationship with him other than a kept pet? I instructed you to seduce him, girl, and you have yet to cement your position with children. Have I taught you nothing?”

She smells, very suddenly, the scent of myrrh.

“Lady Kalani,” a familiar voice rumbles just behind her, though she has never heard him call her that. “The count… requires your presence. Immediately.”

She turns, and Muriel is standing just behind her. He hardly looks like him at all—he’s dressed head to toe in a formal guard’s uniform, white and gold, a wooden bear mask resting on his face. His hair has been slicked back, he actually looks like he’s shaved properly for a change, and he’s standing up straight for… possibly the first time that she’s seen, anyway.

He’s… very tall. She forgets that, sometimes.

“I believe whatever the Count of Vesuvia has to say to my daughter, he can say to me,” her father retorts, moving to grab Kalani’s arm.

Muriel physically places himself between Kalani and her father.

“State business.”

And then before anyone can say anything else, Kalani feels Muriel’s hand on the small of her back, and he begins to lead her away.

She hears Cinis hiss behind them, and her father sputter indignantly, then the scamper of claws on tile as the cat chases after them. He leaps directly onto her shoulder, curling protectively around her neck. She’s so nervous and jittery that she swears he feels bigger than normal, for a moment.

Muriel’s hand on her back is warm, and trembling.

“Muriel,” she hisses.

“Keep walking,” he whispers, his voice shaking.

He leads her into another hall, and then another, and another, and his hand starts shaking so bad that Kalani realises he’s lost. She slips her arm around his, thinking calming thoughts and hoping Muriel feels them too.

At first, he tenses. But she hums, a little song Asra sometimes sings to himself, and she leads him gently away from the ever-growing crowds.

She leads him into a room that smells of forests, and ripe apples. There aren’t many people in it at all—and they all seem to be lingering near the door, as the room doesn’t seem to hold much appeal for them. But Kalani sees rows and rows of trees, probably magical constructs because they don’t breathe like real trees, but not illusions because she can see them. There is a fog winding through the trees that obscures the size of the room, and it feels like Asra’s magic on her skin—moonlight soft, nighttime still.

She tugs Muriel through the trees, deeper and deeper, until the voices drifting through the doorway vanish somewhere behind them, and there is only the sound of leaves crunching under their feet, and Muriel’s laboured, panicked breathing, and until no matter how many times she turns around, all she can see is Muriel, and trees.

Muriel lets out a relieved sigh, and then finally, finally, turns and faces her properly. He puts his hands on her shoulders, his touch so light she wonders if he’s worried she’ll break under the slightest pressure.

“You okay?” he asks. “He didn’t… he didn’t hurt you. Did he?”

“Am I okay? What about you? Muriel, what are you doing here?”

“He was scaring you. What did he say?”

Kalani exhales. She reaches up, and takes off her gemstone-heavy jaguar mask, looking down at it as she turns it over and over in her hands. “Nothing I shouldn’t have expected, I guess.”

Muriel hesitates. She can feel him waver three times before he lifts one hand from her shoulder, and tentatively touches two fingers to her chin, guiding her gaze back to his.

“Nothing you deserved,” he tells her, his green eyes soft and warm under his mask.

She feels… very warm, all of a sudden.

They are interrupted by the sound of leaves crunching nearby—and Muriel whirls, reaching for Kalani as if to run off with her. But it’s only Asra, holding up his skirts in both hands, looking frantic and worried until he sees them both—and then he just looks equal parts relieved and confused.

“Kai,” he says, rushing forward, “are you okay? Did he find you? I turned around and you were gone, and you kept moving every time I tried to find you…”

“I’m alright,” she assures him. “Muriel was amazing! He just walked up to my father and interrupted him, and whisked me away like it was official palace business.”

Muriel looks like he might faint. “Don’t remind me.”

“You did what?” Asra turns, and looks as though he wants to check Muriel over. “You—Muriel, that’s amazing!”

He looks like he’s starting to sweat under his mask. “Please stop talking about it.”

“Where did you even get this uniform? I don’t think there’s a guard that’s your size…”

Muriel clears his throat. “… I asked Jay.”

“Did she just have that lying around?”

Muriel just looks even more embarrassed and shrugs but honestly, Kalani wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

But it seems Asra isn’t really expecting an answer—he fusses over Muriel’s uniform instead, plucking at the seams. “I mean, it’s good, but it obviously doesn’t hold up to any sort of scrutiny… The number of buttons is wrong, I’m. I’m kind of sure.”

Kalani tugs uneasily at her hair, and shakes her head to clear it. She still feels all warm, and almost fuzzy, from what Muriel said a few moments ago. But that warmth is mostly embarrassment now—because Muriel was just being a good friend, is all. Poor Muriel looks torn between letting Asra fuss and running off into the distance, never to be seen again—and Asra, of course, has no clue.

She wishes Muriel would just let her tell him. They’re perfect for each other.

Cinis chirps, and Kalani bends over to pick him up. She scratches his ears while he purrs in her arms, and she steps up next to Asra, mock scrutinizing the uniform. “Nope, that’s the right number.”

“Well—these seams are too nice, you know? And I see where she could have put in—a dozen protection spells. I could right now, actually, it would be easy.”

“… Please don’t make me turn blue again.”

“That was one time! Wait, you smell different. What did Jay put on this? Myrrh?”

Kalani can see Muriel’s flush spreading out from under his mask, down his neck. “… Perfume. Kai made it.”

“Oh. Oh. Well, in that case, you smell great.”

Poor Muriel looks like he wants to turn invisible.

“Asra,” she says, “We’re both fine. I’m happy Muriel’s here, and I’m sure my aunt was happy to help.”

Asra crosses his arms over his chest. “Well. You could have just said you wanted to help, Muriel. I would have snuck you in. I just—what were you planning in the first place?”

Muriel glances back at Kalani, and then stares down at the ground.

“… He doesn’t feel nice things,” Muriel mumbles, just loud enough for them to hear. “I don’t like him.”

Asra’s expression softens, his lips curling up into a smile. “You didn’t have a plan at all, did you?”

Muriel keeps staring at the ground, and does not reply. So Kalani reaches, low where he can see, and slowly takes his hand. Hesitating just the moment before, so he can pull away if he wants.

He doesn’t. She slowly twines her fingers in his, and then stands on her toes and kisses the cheek of his mask.

“Thank you,” she says, softly.

He swallows.

When Kalani steps back, Asra is looking behind them. She thinks she can make out a flush past his fox mask, but it might be the rosy, false-autumn sunset around them. “Well I think we’ve made enough of a public appearance for tonight, don’t you, Kai?”

“Well…” she glances over at Muriel, who looks like he’s had enough for the night. “Maybe. But the bubble room sounds like so much fun…”

Asra winks. “I agree. Let’s go freshen up first, though.”

He refuses to elaborate the whole way up to their rooms—through all the secret portals and back ways that they know—but when they arrive at Kalani and Asra’s rooms, there are two expertly carved wooden masks, and two matching outfits, laid out on the bed.

“Asra!” Kalani picks up the dress meant for her—the colour of the sky at noon, with glimmering amber accents—and holds it up to herself. “Where did you get these?”

“Just used my share of the mask money. I was worried they wouldn’t be finished in time—oh, that reminds me.” Asra disappears into the closet, and then comes out again with an armful of green and black fabric. “I had a feeling you might change your mind,” he says, beaming at Muriel.

Muriel is still standing in the doorway, looking uneasily around their bedroom. “… Only one bed?”

“We used to take turns sleeping on the floor,” Kalani explains, bending to pick up her new mask. “But… it just seemed silly after a while. We share, now.”

“It’s big enough for like, six people,” Asra says, louder and quicker than he needs to.

She glances up at Asra. His mask is off, and she can see him blushing as he hands the bundled outfit to Muriel. “You can change in the bathroom, if you like. I’ll use the closet, and Kai can just… let us know when she’s done. And we can all go back to the party and have fun and no one will know it’s us.”

Asra hurries Muriel into the bathroom, and then comes back for his own gown—and Kalani stops him before he takes it, with a hand on his arm.

“How long were you planning this?” she asks him.

His returning smile is coy. “Well. You just got so excited when we were planning all the different rooms, but I knew it would be hard for us to just… enjoy them. So I thought, maybe our secret identities could come to the party, too.”

She laughs. “Secret identities.”

“What?”

“You don’t even use a fake name, Asra.”

“I told you, there’s like a hundred Asras my age.”

“Do any of them have white hair?” she teases, standing on her toes to ruffle the hair in question.

“Hey, that look like an hour—”

“And purple eyes?”

“Uh, lavender, thank you.”

“And cheek dimples when they smile?”

He’s well and truly blushing, now. “Well. I’m sure they have some of those things. Maybe. Dimples? Do my cheeks really—”

He turns, as if to go to the closest mirror, but she touches his arm again.

He stops, as suddenly as if she’d grabbed him.

“Thank you,” she says, feeling her own face begin to warm.

He clears his throat. “It’s no big deal.”

“No, I mean… Not just this. For everything.” She rocks back onto her heels, and tugs at her hair. “A year ago, I was so scared.”

He turns back to her, slowly.

“I could barely remember not being at school, and all of a sudden I was expelled, and this person who—he’s my father, he’s supposed to—to look out for me. And I was six years old, the last time I’d seen him, but he was so…”

Cinis starts rubbing his face against her ankles and purring, as loud as he can.

“And then we’re up here, alone together, and I was so scared. Because he had told me what—what I had to do, to make you like me. But instead—instead you took me to see a forest, and I’d always wanted to see one, Asra, so badly. I met Muriel and his chickens and Inanna, and then you helped my find my Aunt, and your parents let her teach me magic even though I know you mother doesn’t like her. And tonight—everyone trying their best to keep my father away from me, even Muriel, and this…”

There are tears in her eyes, now. She rubs furiously at them with the back of her palm—only for Asra to step forward, and catch her wrist. He takes her hand and holds it between his, a moment, before reaching up himself, cupping her cheek in his palm and wiping the tears from her eyes with his thumb.

He looks, for a moment, as if he’s about to say something. But then the moment passes, and he smiles instead. “You never had to make anyone like you, Kai.”

She lets out a breathy laugh. “I had some teachers who would seriously disagree with that.”

He laughs, low and soft. As he starts to withdraw, she curls her fingers tighter around his.

“I’m—I’m trying to say that this year has been the best year of my life,” she tells him. “So… thank you. For your part in it.”

Finally, she drops his hand. He ducks his head.

“I should… go change.”

“Yeah! Yeah, me too.”

He doesn’t turn from her immediately. He lingers, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. And then he closes his mouth, and she’s close enough to hear the clack of his teeth as he does, shakes his head, and picks up his gown and mask, and heads into the closet to change.

She lets out the breath she’d been holding, and tries to calm the racing of her heart.

By the time Kai finally agrees to go to bed, she’s nearly falling asleep on her feet, she’s so exhausted.

Muriel carries her all the way up to her and Asra’s rooms, and Asra pretends not to notice his furious blushing the whole while.

“You should stay tonight, too,” Kai mumbles into Muriel’s shoulder while Asra unlocks the door. “It’s late.”

And Muriel must be exhausted, too, because he doesn’t even argue with her.

Muriel and Kai fall asleep right away—Kai on her side, as usual, Cinis curled up into a ball at the small of her back, and Muriel flat on his back in the middle of the bed, snoring ever so slightly. Faust is already curled up on her own pillow, on the corner of Asra’s side of the bed, her tongue flicking lazily as she dreams.

Asra takes a few minutes to cast a laundering spell on their clothes, before folding and tucking them away in the chest in the closet. The chest has grown to bursting over the last year—Asra keeps all of Kai’s street clothing in there, as well as his own, and a few books he prefers to keep to himself.

One of them has the flowers Kai wore on their wedding night, pressed between the pages. Another has a few of the forget-me-nots that grow near Muriel’s hut.

When he returns to the bed, he doesn’t slip under the covers right away. He watches them both sleep a while, in the slivers of moonlight that slip past the curtains. He watches Muriel’s chest rise and fall, admires his peaceful, relaxed expression. He sees Kai’s hand, resting on the bed so, so close to Muriel’s shoulder. As if she were reaching out, in her sleep.

Sometimes, he forgets it’s been a year.

Sometimes, he marvels that it’s only been a year.

It seems at the same time that Kai was thrown into his life yesterday, and that she’s always been there. He thinks back to his childhood memories of running through the streets with Muriel, and it’s jarring that he cannot place Kai there in turn.

More often than not, when he is alone with Kai, he turns, and is surprised that Muriel isn’t there, too.

It’s strange, because of how not strange it is at all, to see Muriel in this bed, too.

They’ll make a great couple, someday, he thinks, as he slips into bed beside Muriel.

It’s not a sad thought. It’s not.

He drifts off to the slow, steady rhythm of Muriel’s breaths—and half-wakes later, as Muriel slings an arm over his side, and tucks himself against Asra’s back. Like they used to, when they were kids—only, Muriel’s a lot bigger now.

Just as Asra is about to fall asleep again, he hears the blankets shift, and a low mrr of complaint from Cinis. And then Kai’s arm slings over Muriel’s side, her fingertips just resting on Asra’s hip.

Asra lies there, his heart in his throat, listening to Kai and Muriel breathing, feeling the rise and fall of Muriel’s chest at his back like a burning fire, Kai’s fingertips like lightning sparks, and he thinks: they will make a great couple. Just the two of them.

If his breath catches, and his eyes water—then no one else is awake to see it.

#the arcana fanfic #asra/apprentice #asra/muriel #asriel #muriel/apprentice #asra/apprentice/muriel #Muriel #every chapter that i think will be the big timeskip chapter never seems to be it #there was a little one this time i guess

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serenitylost · 6 years

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Apprentice Week, Day 3: Love (@thearcanaweek)

Technically, Kori is romancing Julian, but their relationship is...complicated. So here’s a bit of pre-memory-loss Kori x Asra. I was planning to write fluff for today, but instead I wrote this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Not the First In which Kori really needs a hug, and Asra has a revelation.

(Read it here or on AO3)

Asra pressed his hand to the door of the shop, feeling her magic shift and part under his fingertips. He pushed the door open and entered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d knocked - at some point he’d just...stopped, and she didn’t really seem to mind.

Bright daylight chased him into the entryway, casting stark shadows across the floor. He caught a glimpse of her in the back room, a sliver framed by soft curtains, her wild hair gleaming where the sun lay its golden touch. He stilled in the doorway, watching the light play upon her, feeling the warmth of it at his back. A soft smile took over his lips.

Eventually he turned and closed the door, casting the room into relative darkness. The curtains were all pulled shut; the only light came from a handful of small lanterns scattered throughout the space. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust as he blinked slowly in the dim light.

Once he could see again, he moved into the back room, pulling out his cards as he went. He rounded the table to face her and set the cards down with a smack.

“Alright, Kori. This time I’ve got it, I swear. Prepare to be blown away.”

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t even blink.

“...Kori?”

No response.

Asra bent so they were face-to-face. Kori looked past him, eyes unfocused. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, his brow knotting in worry.

“Kori.”

She blinked. Slowly, her eyes came to focus on his face, but they didn’t quite meet his gaze before she looked away.

“Hm? Oh, that’s great, Asra.”

Concern wound its way over his features. He knelt before her and gently placed a hand on either side of her face.

“Kori. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” She finally met his gaze, staring blankly for a moment before she erupted into a short, shaky laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Great. Perfect, in fact. Couldn’t be better.” But the smile she gave him faltered, failing to reach her eyes.

He’d...never seen her like this before. He stroked his thumbs over the sides of her face and drew in close, not knowing what was broken, not knowing how to make it better.

It was then, mere inches from her, his eyes finally growing used to the low light, that he noticed it. A stain, deep and dark, painted in broad strokes down the front of her clothing.

Red.

“You’re hurt,” he gasped in alarm. He clutched at her shirt, pulling the fabric into the light, where the still-drying stain shone a dark, murky crimson.

She shook her head, pushing his hands away. “No,” she said blankly. “It’s not mine.”

“It’s…” He looked at her face again.

“Oh.”

He sat back on his heels, closed his eyes, and let a heavy sigh escape him.

“Oh.”

Kori said nothing, her eyes cast down, staring hard at the empty air.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was gentle, his gaze searching.

Kori began to shake her head again, back and forth, back and forth, her hair falling past her shoulders to trail in front of her face. Her hands gripped the edge of her stool, her knuckles turning white.

“It doesn’t matter.” She spit the words out, a harsh whisper in the quiet room. “It doesn’t matter. They-” Another wobbly laugh. “It’s not like they were the first.”

She looked up then, meeting Asra’s eyes. There was something wild in her expression, in the set of her jaw, in the intensity of her gaze. She wanted him to ask, he could feel it. So he did.

“Not the first what?”

“The first person I’ve killed.”

Her gaze bored into him, that wild look unfailing. He nodded slowly, his expression soft, holding those dappled eyes with his own. It was the answer he’d expected.

She didn’t talk much about killing. She did talk about fighting, about danger and violence, about brawls in the streets and narrow escapes and deadly, thrilling pursuit. He’d found her, more than once, with gashes in her flesh - battle wounds that had healed to leave long, pale scars across her skin.

But she didn’t talk about killing. Not really. Not with this look in her eye.

Asra reached out, placing his hands over hers and prying them gently off of the stool. He drew them together before her, cupping them in his own, steadying the tremble in her fingers, his thumbs tracing soft circles into her skin.

What could he say? He didn’t know what she was feeling; all he could do was guess. Maybe the words existed, the ones that could soothe her, that could heal this wound - but he didn’t have them.

Instead, he lifted her hands to his face and placed two gentle kisses, one in each palm. He let his lips linger, soft and warm against her skin.

He felt more than saw her shuddering sigh, the way the tension rattled out of her. He looked up at her face to see that her eyes were closed.

“Asra…”

She sighed again, a deep breath blown out in a gust, like steam escaping a kettle. Her hands turned, her fingers curling around his own. She opened her eyes, looking down at their joined hands.

“It shouldn’t matter,” she said softly. “It’s not- I mean, I’ve-” Her voice broke, and she paused for another deliberate breath.

“It’s just...it- it was different, this time.” The words seemed to grow smaller and smaller as they left her throat. She lifted her gaze to lock eyes with him again, but the wild look was gone. Instead, her eyes glistened, her expression almost pleading.

Her lips opened and closed a few times, forming soundless, unfinished words. When she finally spoke, her voice was as small as he’d ever heard it.

“I’m not a good person, Asra.”

He blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open as he took in her words, her face, the tears that refused to fall, how exposed she seemed before him.

Then, in the space of an instant, he shot up on his knees and wrapped his arms around her. One hand pushed into her hair, the other wound around her shoulders, and he pulled himself close, so close, until their foreheads brushed together.

He meant to say “you’re wrong.” He meant to say “you’re better than you know.” But the words that fell from his lips came of their own accord.

“I don’t care.”

He felt her shudder against him. She squeezed her eyes shut, finally allowing those tears to streak long tracks down her face. Then, eyes still closed, she pushed forward, tilting her head to bring her lips to his.

His arms tightened around her as he met the kiss. She pressed her face against him, hard, insistent. Her lips barely moved, but the force of her nearly toppled him, and he barely kept his balance as she slipped from the stool to drop into his lap.

He did his best to hold his ground, leaning into the kiss, holding her tight, tighter, as close as he could. He could feel her sharp, irregular breaths, warm against his skin where her nose dug into his face. Her wet lashes fluttered against his cheek, and her hands burrowed into the folds of his clothing. The pressure of her lips against his was intense, overwhelming, as if she were trying to fuse their two faces into one.

But as suddenly as she had kissed him, she pulled away. Asra gasped as their lips parted - he found himself breathless, heart hammering and head spinning even as he swayed toward her, drawn like a puppet on a string.

Kori dropped her head to his shoulder. He could feel the remnants of tension that still gripped her, the way her body trembled in his arms. He turned to press his face to her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of cinnamon, and sweat. And blood.

It was true, he realized, heart still pounding in his ears. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter what she’d done; it didn’t matter who she’d killed.

It didn’t matter, because he loved her.

He held her close, rubbing gently at her back, soothing as best he could. He listened to the sound of her breathing, erratic at first, but slowly, gradually, growing softer and steady. And slowly, gradually, his breath slowed to join her, their bodies syncing in a gentle rhythm as the tension eased away.

He loved her, he realized. He loved her.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #apprentice week #apprentice week 2018 #asra #fan apprentice #kori #my writing

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