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kehideni · 3 years

Text

Little fanfic because i can now.

Things to know: the commander here is Beasteye Denalien, an Ash Legion ranger. Working with canon backgrounds, with a sparckle of artistic freedom.

You can have shippy glasses on and also not, you decide. I personally have them on and if you ask i can explain why, eventhough i personally would prefer the commander to be asexual. (Which he still can be, but let's not go into that.)

Onto the fic:

"It was tough to find you Commander, Aurene is worried about you, you know."

The Commander was sitting on a rock that would pass as a chair for him. He was larger than the average charr, but still smaller than a well-grown adult norn. His back was to Caithe, one of the first born sylvari that promised herself to Aurene's cause, however the bonds they shared was clearly deeper than just aligning interests.

"Did you come in her name then? To check on me?" The Commander had decided to hide in Sun's Refuge, not answering the communicator if it was not an emergency. Once Kralkatorrik was gone and Aurene branded over her grandfather's very own, the underground safe-place was no longer needed. Those who could return to their lives did, those that lost everything have started over or they too joined Aurene, as part of the Crystal Bloom.

"Yes and no. Through our link with Aurene i sensed your trouble as well. I also wanted to make sure you are ok." As she told him her reasons she walked to the charr to sit next to him on the rock. That's when she noticed that her dear friend was holding an arrow. It was different looking that the rest he kept on his back in his quiver.

From the corner of his eyes he saw the questioning look on Caithe.

"It's the last arrow Eir crafted." He slowly and carefully spun it in his clawed fingers. "When we defeated Zhaitan and had that celebration in Fort Trinity she pulled me away."

-------------

"What is it?" Back then even his voice seemed less deep. The challenges of Tyria not yet taking their toll on the Ash Legion centurion. Hehh, he scoffed on the memory; back then that title still meant something to him.

Eir smiled, her wolf Garm wagged his tail excitedly next to her, as if he knew what his master was going to do.

"We just killed the Elder Dragon Zhaitan and you already think there must be something wrong if someone wants to talk to you?" She jabbed.

That caught the dark charr off guard, if the charr weren't covered in fur one would be able to see if they were blushing. Well, now a charr was blushing.

"No, nothing is wrong. I just noticed that your arrows are unique. I was wondering if you made them?" The smile never left her face, she looked like she just have been liberated from prison. Denalien didn't care to think why, but was happy for his friend all the same.

"OOOOHhhhh! Yeah, i make them. Specifically to pierce the enemy and to also hit hard."

"That's impressive! Look, let me show you MY arrows. I craft them myself too." She proudly reached back to her own quiver to pull out one.

"I prefer if my arrows are fast. So i make them flat." She presented the arrow, Denalien's eyes were sparking, the awe showing obviously on his feline face.

He reached carefully, intending to hold it in his hands, but at the last second Eir gasped and pulled her arms back a little.

"Are you interested in a trade? From one ranger to another, to one friend to another. I was thinking we trade one of our arrows to the other, and only use it for a special purpose." She playfully spun the arrow between her fingers.

The Commander didn't even take a second to think about the offer. "I'm interested!" He wagged his tail almost akin to Garm.

-------------------

The beat of silence after the short story was deafening to the sylvari. She was just about to ask something when Denalien's pet- Raphael, a red drake that never left his side - shook his whole body. It broke the silence, but the atmosphere didn't change much.

"I've decided i will keep it as a memento, if i can help it, it will be the last arrow i ever let lose."

Hearing that from someone Caithe considered so strong made her stomach churn. She didn't miss the fatalistic tone in his voice.

"Why are you here?" She honestly couldn't think of anything else to say. The time when Eir died was a low point in the friendship between her and the commander. She was eternally grateful that she managed to make up with him.

"..." The Commander has always been quiet like her 'So that's what it feels like...' Caithe tried to jest herself in her mind.

"Long before i met you, even Rytlock, i had a warband." That's strange, the Commander never spoke of his own past, atleast not to Caithe. Maybe she should talk with him more, she took note of this.

"The leader of my warband was called Howl the Brazen. He was almost the exact opposite of me. He was as charr as a charr can be, loved fighting, but even more loved us. He made us give each other mementos of ourselves saying it's a way for us to always be there for the others, even if we get separated." He turned to his loyal drake, pet it's head.

"Since most of them died i was named leader, and decided to took up this little habbit of collecting mementos."

Caithe just now noticed all the items that was piled in front of him. There were several minis-most of them charr, presumably of his warband, a bag in the shape of a white, spotted charr- she distantly remembers a charr akin to the bag hanging out with her leader. A sticker in the shape of a bomb, and most noticably the repaired greatsword of her people- Caladbolg.

She understood how heavily these losses weighed on him, but she still felt like there's something else. She didn't have to wonder a lot.

"I have nothing from Braham..." ohh... in hindsight she should have known, she heard what happened from Rytlock.

"He also has nothing from me." In all honesty Caithe hoped she could help him, as large was the charr next to her, he now looked so small. To her regret she didn't know what would help him, not even how to cheer him up, so in silence they sat. Raphael taking notice of Caithe, tried his hardest to snuggle up to her lap, almost reminded her of one of the cats that one day mysteriously appeared in her home in the Groove. Of course she never had the heart to push those cute and cuddly animals away, same as now, she let the red drake up her lap.

"I don't even know if Eir had a chance to use my arrow i gave her. I hope it helped her so that atleast i could save her in that one moment."

The crystallized sylvari seemed to be deep in thought. Suddenly her eyes grew bright, shining like diamonds. She reached for her chest, covered her big crystal flower with her palm, but the Commander didn't seem to address her motion.

"I want to trade with you!" She exclaimed. For now that successfully shocked Denalien out of his sorrowful mood. She revealed her right hand, she held a crystal-petal from her chestflower. The Commander wide-eyed didn't even know what to say.

"In exchange i waaaaaantt...." she didn't know what to ask for yet, but as she remarked his pile of mementos she finally had an idea. ".... a carving of yourself!" Raphael almost asleep suddenly yelped at her. "..And obviously of Raphael as well!" She smiled as the drake laid his head down on her lap once again, proof to her that she guessed correctly what he wanted.

The Commander suddenly stood up "But... that's... didn't it hurt to take off?!"

Ever a worry, she thought with a gentle smile. "No. Now take it, once you have the carving ready i expect you to find me!" To this her friend finally smiled what seemed to be the first in a long long time.

"How do you expect me to find you? You are always the one to find me! Need i remind you i never noticed you were following me for who knows how long before you revealed yourself to me, righ here?"

Oh, Caithe remembers, she remembers finding him in Jahai Bluffs, she remembers how she saw him with a woman she later learned was called Zafira, she followed him all the way here when she learned he'd enter the Mists with a little asuran golem. She remembers how worried she was for him and how relieved, when she saw him alive, and immediatelly after his face when they learned what happened to Blish- the companion who was there for him in his need. The reason she didn't reveal herself till that moment was that she was ashamed, ashamed for not being there for her friend.

"Don't worry, i will allow you to find me." She chuckled, trying to keep the lighter mood up as long as she could.

"Give it to me." Denalien asked her gently. "I accept this trade."

Caithe felt awkward a bit, like she just have stayed her welcome. Gently she pushed Raphael off her lap, who whined a bit.

"I probably should go... don't keep us waiting for long. We all need you, come back to us when you're ready."

The charr finally stood tall, that's what he is supposed to look like to her. Tall and strong, unshakable.

"...Could you stay? I no longer wish to be alone, but i can't face everyone yet."

That was a pleasant surprise for Caithe.

"Of course!"

-----------

The airship was going down, big vines tore the fleet apart right in front of her, as if it was made out of paper. She was running out of arrows, and several sylvari just turned on them, as if they are not in enough danger as it is.

They were about to flank both Logan and Zojja, they lined up perfectly but she had only one arrow left!

It was exactly what she needed to save her friends in the chaos.

"Thank you, Commander!" She panted and let loose her last arrow, successfully saving both Logan and Zojja from an untimely death.

#charr #guild wars 2 #gw2 #Caithe #Beasteye Denalien #Eir #if it fits your commander feel free to imagine them instead of Denalien

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 5 years

Text

Broken Edges- Part 4

This is my version of fluff so enjoy it while it lasts! I wish I could apologize for the cliffhanger but it was so much fun to write...Who do you think is with our dear Y/N?

Catch up HERE

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: language, kidnap, flangst (if you squint)

***********************************************

“What the hell are you doin on the floor, pal?” Bucky’s voice sounded foggy as the message transmitted to Steve’s sensitive ears. He couldn’t hear anything above the high-pitched ring vibrating through his canals and taste the blood from biting the inside of his cheek. He was frozen, not in fear, but shame, humiliation, and unexplainable uncertainty.

Steven Grant Rogers was officially the world’s biggest fuck up. Usually he could talk his way out of any troubling situation merely with his persuasive smile and easy-going personality, but Y/N destroyed him with her ingenuously quick tipped words. Steve kept thinking about the despondent look in her eyes before she abruptly slammed the door in his face. It was guaranteed to torment him not only during his waking hours but without question in the lingering night terrors yet to come.

Out of the blue, a large hand lingered upon his shoulder before the intruder cautiously shook him alerting him of the stranger’s very close proximity; “Steve, everything alright man?” It was Bucky. The only other person in this god forsaken building that probably didn’t want him flayed alive…at least not yet.

“Can I uh, ask why you are on the ground?”

Still stunned from his previous interaction with Y/N; he had no other choice but to man up to what he’d done. The words were like molting lava ready to escape a treacherous terrain but he reverted to simplistic quacking getting to the meat of the breakup. All confidence disappearing, Steve murmured;

“She dumped me.”

Steve felt Bucky’s grasp tighten against his right shoulder, giving him a hard pat for good measure before proceeding onward; “Well, she was pretty upset when I saw her this morning. That girl talks in code majority of the time so I didn’t really get the full story. I guess it didn’t end well based off the dumbfounded expression etched onto your face right now, hmm?”

Rapidly turning his head to meet another set of familiar baby blues, Steve no longer had control of what spewed from his lips at that very moment; “You don’t know shit, Bucky. I thought you were on my side.”

Exasperated, Bucky refuted back quicker than lightning; “Hey man, don’t take your frustrations out on me. I’ll always be on your side but I also have no freaking idea what really is going. So, please enlighten me to what the hell is exactly happening.”

Grunting, Steve no longer saw any point to hiding his demons. Sooner or later, the entire team would know how much of a dick he truly was. Might as well get ahead of the game.

“I slept with Nat. I made a colossal lapse in judgment and carelessly shattered Y/N. That’s what happened.”

Bucky backed away from his friend, unaware of how to process the information he was given. Thinking back to his earlier conversation with Y/N, Bucky finally started to connect the dots and align the context clues. The wheels in his mind rotated on full speed wondering just how Captain America found himself in such a predicament. He tapped his knee in hopes of getting the super soldier up and out of the hallway so they could continue this discussion in private. He definitely needed the gaps filled in for him even if he had to twist his best friend’s arm. Bucky was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Y/N’s POV:

The cooling sensation of the door felt wonderful against Y/N’s tense back muscles. Her head clonked against the surface reminding her that she indeed had just kicked Steve Rogers out of her sight, and it felt fucking superb. She sauntered towards her bed faceplanting into an array of cush pillows aligning her headboard. Y/N wasn’t much for history but at that exact moment she felt like an amazon warrior; powerful and assertive. Throughout history, falling in love never got an easy reputation. Lives destroyed, homes ruined, families broken due to people’s selfish belief in the power of love. No one dared speak of its real consequences caged in the darkest corners of humanity. Awaiting the broken hearted like thorny vines on a rose bush; enticing from afar luring in its prey before singe-handedly attacking in the name of devoted adoration. That was certainly one way to lure the gullible and weak minded.

She was neither, at least not anymore. Y/N rolled over gazing at her ceiling. For once the pressure in her chest dissipated, oxygen flowing into her airways. She was able to breath for the first time in months. She should’ve done this sooner. Y/N was now beginning to understand who her knight in shining armor truly was…the woman she had always been. Thinking back on Steve’s trepidation, Y/N spotted that her problem was she allowed herself to be wanted so badly, she couldn’t tell it wasn’t love at all. Initially noticing the beautiful wrapping paper that entailed her gift before understanding who really was layered within Steve Rogers.

Y/N didn’t let herself off the hook that easily. It takes two to tango when dancing with the devil and she eagerly obliged him. She settled for his pretentious impression of friendship permitting it to linger towards sex because she wanted him. Revenge was far too personal but vengeance, vengeance was cunning, detrimental, and brought a sickening grin to Y/N’s rosy lips.

So long to the girl who was sweet and simple. Y/N refused to be what people tell her to be. That Y/N was long dead. But, before she could concoct her masterplan her brain swam mindlessly begging for sleep, her lids weighed heavily as Y/N found her eyes closing and her surroundings go black.

When Y/N awoke, her bones ached in a lethargic manner and she was in desperate demand of vodka; the perfect numbing agent. Her limbs riddled from stress; she stretched, a loud yawn escaping its way out. It was then Y/N realized she wasn’t alone in her room. Impossible. After giving Steve the boot, she had made sure Jarvis had secured all locks and rejected all wandering guests.

A calm red glow caught her attention in the corner of her room. Wanda. Though intrusive, Wanda’s company was pacifically soothing and exactly what Y/N yearned for.

Wanda watched intuitively staring in Y/N’s direction unwillingly to break the peaceful calm.

“Wanda, I’m not blind. I can clearly see you creeping in the corner.”

Wanda sassed back at rapid fire; “Oh my god, she speaks! Wow, for a second I thought you were dead.”

A giggle passed Y/N’s lips, it felt refreshing to laugh; “I thought you read minds. Didn’t you get the memo I’m in mourning?”

Clearly amused, Wanda accepted Y/N’s bait; “Hmm, who died?”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip thinking twice before speaking; “The old Y/N. She’s dead and gone.”

“Interesting. And who is gracing my presence as we speak?”

“A badass bitch who no longer has a filter to deal with Captain America’s bullshit. That’s who.”

Instinctively, Wanda blushed unable to stop her powers from intruding upon Y/N’s thoughts.

“I’m sooo sorry, Y/N. I freaking slipped and please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to…”

Wanda neared her bed sitting at the corners edge, not to close but just enough. Knowing her darkest fruition finally felt quite liberating even if she hated to admit it. Of course, Y/N was irritated that Wanda unintentionally read her most secretive thoughts, she couldn’t fathom being mad at her friend for trying to help.

“I can’t believe him! Out of all people and Nat knew how you felt about him? I’m all about keeping the peace…but this is unacceptable.”

A breath whooshed through Y/N’s chest as she gathered herself; “You’re telling me…Steve almost said he loved me before I stopped him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. But honestly, I hated knowing he’d been inside of her…given her such an intimate part of himself. Please tell me I’m not crazy?”

Y/N hated bringing Wanda, the idealistic middle (wo)man into this brass situation, but the white elephant in the room needed to be addressed at some point or another.

“Я понимаю мою любовь.” (I understand my love)

“я чувствую себя таким разбитым” (I feel so broken)

“You don’t have to explain. I literally…. get it. I just want to punch him in that rightful nose of his. Jesus! That man is infuriating.”

“He wasn’t always that way. Trust me.”

“But you love hi—”

“No….: Shaking her head in vast disagreement. “No. No. No. Please don’t say that, please.”

“…if you insist Y/N. I’m on your side regardless but I’m also bipartisan if Stark asks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny the inevitable; “Thank you…. Thank you for being a friend, Wanda.”

------

Y/N’s resounding feelings were more than Wanda could handle without alcohol’s boost of influence. So, she stupidly made her way towards Tony’s lounge promising Wanda they’d catch up later. Nothing better than a little peace and quiet Y/N prayed, banking on its abandoned state.

Upon entrance, Y/N’s mouth watered, her throat parched as she appreciated the overly stocked bar Stark was so keen on maintaining. Vodka soda with extra lime was her main pick of poison. She reveled in the slow burn down into her lungs, she moaned with pleasure.

This was exactly what the doctor ordered. Y/N started to worry about being left alone with her thoughts for too long would be a bad thing, or a more challenging way of figuring her shit out.

Of course, Tony chose the finest of leather couches who’s price she probably didn’t dare guess. Y/N fell right into its cushiony heaven trying to not spill her drink in the process. She brought the chilled glass to her lips before gulping the remainder of the iced beverage no longer in existence. With her heels kicked up and feelings at bay for the meantime, Y/N briefly closed her eyes welcoming the darkness.

An enigmatic voice came out of the corner like a ghost lingering in the shadows, startling Y/N.

“Y/N. So very nice to see you again.”

A voice morphed from her very own nightmares.

“Hail Hydra моя милая богиня” (my sweet girl).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover @marvelfansworld @sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch @bake-motherfucka-bake @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky @xstevenat

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #fanfic #my writing #broken edges #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader angst #avengers imagine #avengers #mcu

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sequoiaofeorzea · 4 years

Text

A start to a fic that I decided to take in writing my characters adventure into Shadowbringers.

*This is going to be long so it's still in progress*

An Eorzean Tail; The Parting Glass: A Three Part Prologue

Set at the begining of A Reqium for Heroes with fan made additions to the msq leading into Shadowbringers.

~Sé mo laoch mo ghille mear

’Sé mo Shaesar, ghille mear,

Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan,

Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghille mear.

Sé mo laoch mo ghille mear

’Sé mo Shaesar, ghille mear,

Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan,

Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghille mear.

You will be my gallant star

Oh heys to me mo ghile mear~

It had been four weeks since Thancred, Y'shtola, and Urianger had fallen unconscious due to the mysterious voice anomaly.

"Ahead looms a calamity....twin dooms must be fore stalled".

The words kept repeating again, and again in Sequoia's mind day in and day out. What's worse, she couldn't sleep after all of what happend. She felt even worse for young Alisaie due to the fact they hadn't heard from Alphinaud since he left for Garlemuld with Maxima. As much as she trusts Alphinaud, she can't help but pray to the Twelve that he be safe. The twins maybe prodigies, but they were still children.

Archon, Sequoia's husband began to stir from the other side of the bed. "Good morning, dandelion" he yawned out, "How are you feeling?" He gently reached his arm over to place a hand on her face. He knew what happend.

At the time, Archon was at the Rising Stones helping Tataru with some errands. At first he didnt want to do it until Urianger decided to guilt trip him by using his very olde speech to get the miqote annoyed enough to accept. It was after Sequoia and the others return that he witnessed seeing Urianger and Y'shtola collapse. He was frightened and rushed over to his wife, trying to prevent her from doing the same. He was scared and he began to curse himself and also Cedar, Sequoia's brother, for not accompanying them to Ala Mhigo. In fact, where was Cedar during all of this?

Sequoia let out an audible sigh "I'm still processing it all. Its....I'll be okay". It was a small lie. She knew that he's always worried for her. She knew that he knew that being chosen as a Warrior of Light was taxing. She had slain primals of many, ended a 1000 year war between dragon and man, and liberated not only one nation but two under the oppressive Empire, Garlemuld in which was still a major threat. More over she has dealt with the sinister Ascians, those of which have tried to kill her and her friends many times. At the sametime she tries to balance all of her duties with her marriage. She and Archon had decided to take their marriage a step further to start a family, but the dream had to be put off due to the immediate threats impossible to ignore.

It saddens her. She wished that the world would stay saved just once for her to start a new chapter in her life.

Archon brushed the back of his hand over her cheek to comfort her to the best of his ability.

-----

During his absence on current events, Cedar had gone to the Shroud to take a trip down memories both nostalgic and tragic. He had felt the need to visit the place where his sister and his journey began; the old cabin, their childhood home.

Bullseye, the araiman voidsent along with Kupo Cop accompanied him to the place aswell. Although he didnt mind his Bullseye, he couldnt quite understand why Kupo Cop wanted to come along when it was a personal matter. Cedar decided to let it slide for the best.

Immediately upon their arrival, Cedar was overcome with sorrow from the site of what was left of his childhood home. The cabin was barely keeping itself togather from being abandoned for almost 16 years. Nature had already reclaimed every part of the foundation, vines and other vegetation covering every ilm of the house from broken furniture, to the sink that can be seen in through the kitchen window.

Cedar got off his chocobo and approached the building. Opening the the door he instantly smelled the memory of his mothers stew boiling in the kitchen, the sound of the kettle that would almost always be forgotten before it made its presence know with its screeching. He can hear the pattering of feet and giggling of children on the top floor, with his mothers voice calling them all down for supper. He even imagined hearing his fathers voice calling down in reply, laughing while carrying and limping down the stairs with children not wanting to let go. He even imagined seeing them all singing songs with instruments and his parents telling his bothers and sisters about their time as adventures.

He was brought back to the present from the sound of broken glass. Looking down at his right foot, his eyes grew wide as he looked upon the faces under the broken shards.

It was a picture of his family. He brought the frame up carefully to examine it. The photo features his parents and his siblings all posing neutral standing up save for his mother holding a bundle in her arms; that bundle being Sequoia. And right next to where his mother was cradling his sister in her arms, a boy slightly glancing at the babe stands protectively, his little hand reaching over to let his baby sister hold his pinky. It brought a smile to the miqote face but a stray tear rolled down his cheek and he instinctively whipped it away with the back of his hand.

In the backyard a small cemetary was made where his parents and other siblings now lay at rest. He took that moments to attend to each grave stone, praying and talking to them as if they were actually their before placing a white lily at the foot of the stones.

"Wasn't expecting you to come here" a voice suddenly came out of the blue startling poor Cedar to where he jumped back and fell on his rump. He turned to his left to find an older miqote man in his early sixties. As Cedar winced in pain from his fall the other man leaned over and gave his hand out to the younger. "Seven hells, old man!" Cedar hissed out. The older miqote chuckled before replying apologetically while helping Cedar up. "I have come to visit the same as you, to visit my daughter". Both men looked over to where Cedars mother's headstone was. Cedar knew that his grandfather suffered just as much as he and his sister did, losing his only child in the massacre. Since Bealsarswall, the Garleans have been scouting around the east shourd with the family cabin being located just a few miles from the perimeter. Even thinking about it made Cedar wished there was a way to change the past.

"I...also came with a message, from the Scions." Cedar turned his head back to face his grandfather. "Is it urgent? Is Sequoia alright?! Wh-" his grandfather interrupted "HOLD YOUR BALLS BOY!"

"Language, kupo!" Kupo Cop came over with Bullseye in tow.

"Well, what is it! What's the mes-AAH!"

Suddenly, Cedar threw up his right hand to his head as his body rocked, everything strobing violently around him as he tried to collect his bearings.

"GRANDSON WHAT WRONG!"

"OOOH KUUUUPPOOO WHATS HAPPENING TO HIM?"

Bullseye was flapping his wings frantically comeing over to try and help his master.

"What is this anomaly I'm sensing?" Says the inner apparition of Fray within Cedars soul.

Suddenly everything went black.

-----

At the very sametime both Sequoia and Alisaie were experiencing the same thing.

"Throw wide the gates.......throw wide the gates!"

And just like before, the voice and anonomly ceased. Lyes ran over to the two stopping just short when the experiance stopped. "Was it The Call again?" Lyse asked worried.

"It was, but we can't do anything about it now." Alisaie responded. "We have to find out if my brother is alright." Sequoia agreed. And with that they left to accompany Lord Hien, Yuguri, and Maxima to Shiriyus Wall.

#ffxiv #ffxivshb #ffxivsb2 #Prologue #ffxiv shadowbringers #ffxiv stormblood #ffxivsb #ffxivsb 4.5 #fan fiction #ffxiv fan fiction #sequoia redwood #sequoiaredwood

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 4 years

Text

Pokémon Black: The Novel (Chapter 2 - Nicknames)

Find the prologue and more info about this series here

Find chapter 1 here

Find this series on AO3 and FFN for a better reading experience

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“Are you sure you’re okay with us leaving it like that, Mrs. Whitacre?” Cheren asked in concern. He had his hands pressed together and he looked up at Hil’s mother with soft, deep blue eyes. “Really, Bianca and I don’t mind staying to help Hil clean.”

Hil was leaning against the front door with his arms crossed. He didn’t care that it made it rather obvious he was ready to leave. Snivy was still curled around his neck and again, it was staring at his mother intently.

“It’s fine, Cheren, really,” his mother answered briskly. “Please, y’all just go thank Aurea—I mean, Professor Juniper. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Okay… Well, thanks for having us over,” Cheren told her in a soft tone. Hil felt Snivy nuzzle against his chin and he pressed back a little bit in acknowledgment. Cheren turned to look at Bianca standing behind him in the living room, and then cast a look at Hil. “Ready?”

“Of course! I’m excited to get to talk to Professor Juniper again!” Bianca exclaimed. She danced over to Hil and narrowly scooted past him as he opened the door for her. “I’ve been able to visit her a few times before, but this time—I just still can’t believe she actually gave us some pokémon!”

Cheren muttered something after her and Hil thought he heard his mother call his name above their ruckus, but he ducked out the door and swiftly pulled it shut behind him. A perfect display of having not heard her at all.

Nuvema Town was a quaint, respectable place; a small neighborhood, yellow-green with soft, short grass, its pride hinged on the modest research lab at the far end of the main road. Most of the surrounding area of the town was thick forestry, though a path of dense grass marked the continuation of the road beyond Nuvema. Hil knew that if one were to follow it, they’d come to Accumula Town, and beyond even that, Striaton City. That was as far as he’d ever traveled, anyway. Cheren and Bianca had already started down the road, headed toward the research lab at the end of the row of homes. Hil fell into place behind them as they talked. This was their usual dynamic. Cheren and Bianca always had something to talk or bicker about while Hil interjected with the occasional comment from the peanut gallery. Not that it bothered him at all. He liked the snickers and jokes that came from his unexpected remarks.

“You know, once Oshawott learns Water Gun, your Tepig will be nothing for me, Cheren!” Bianca beamed.

“Until I get a Grass-type of my own,” Cheren taunted in response, adjusting his glasses. “Catch a few Vine Whips with that Oshawott and tell me how that goes.”

“Kinky,” Hil chimed in with a knowing grin, like it was his cue.

“Gross!” Bianca laughed as she regarded him with bright eyes.

“What, I just didn’t know Cheren was into that,” Hil shrugged facetiously.

It was Cheren’s turn to shoot him a look now. “I am not!”

“Hey, hey, no judgments here, man,” Hil snickered. Cheren was so easy. Snivy huffed from Hil’s shoulders and he would have bet money it was its way of laughing. “Noodle doesn’t mind either.”

Cheren groaned and his shoulders sagged. Satisfactorily broken, he trudged on and decided discretion was the better part of valor when dealing with Hil. He didn’t get any peace from Bianca, however, who had nervously decided to try her hand at some risqué jokes in the same vein as Hil’s. He tuned her out. Her lack of experience showed painfully in her awkward taunts.

Cheren cut her off once they finally reached the deep green, concrete porch of the Pokémon Lab by loudly banging his fist on the door. “Professor Juniper?” he called.

Bianca fell in place next to Hil. She still had that Oshawott in her arms, clutched against her chest in a smothering hug. Oshawott still just looked happy to be there, a broad, unknowing smile scrawled across its round face. It was only Cheren that had put his new friend back in the Poké Ball for the walk, citing that he didn’t trust it not to run off just yet. Hil had to agree that Tepig had seemed rather… temperamental. When the doorknob clicked, Hil felt Snivy give a start on his shoulder. He reached a hand up and rubbed its head gently to relax it.

The door swung open and there stood a younger lady dressed in a pale green, open labcoat. A white tank top and green skirt covered her underneath that. She pressed her left hand against her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun and she squinted at them. “Oh, Cheren, Hilbert, Bianca!” she exclaimed and jumped back, spreading her arms wide in a cheerful welcome. She stepped to the side and gestured for them to come inside. “Please, please! We’ve been waiting for you three!”

Cheren glanced at Hil as he listened to Professor Juniper and entered the building. He had a dastardly smirk plastered on his face. Hil knew it was because his shoulders had noticeably arched at being called by his full name and his right eye maybe twitched a little. He hated that name. Hil liked to think he generally didn’t anger easily but being referred to as ‘Hilbert’ a few times in the same day was a surefire way to rev him up. His father had always asked him why he hated it so much and every time the response was the same. “It’s the name of an old man,” he would whine. “Like, Hilda in school says her great, great uncle is named Hilbert. Then they all jokingly call me ‘Bert.’ It’s awful!” Then his father would laugh and tell him not to mind what other people thought. Ironic, Hil thought bitterly, but he took a deep breath and banished those thoughts, relaxed his shoulders. No need to get angry at her, she probably doesn’t know. Seems Mom didn’t tell her, Hil talked himself down.

“We’re always happy to expand the number of trainers out in Unova!” Professor Juniper was bubbling as she led them through the lab. Hil noted the sterile white walls and pale blue tiling that made up the floor. Translucent glass walls divided up the laboratory and computers lined the walls. Various people in buttoned-up labcoats brushed past and wandered about the lab floor. A few stopped to notice the young trainers and waved encouragingly at them but couldn’t stop to talk due to their work. “I was ecstatic when your mothers said you were all ready to head out,” the professor continued.

“I’ve been ready!” Bianca proudly boasted, puffing out her chest a little despite the Oshawott still clinging to her. “No matter what they say!”

“I’d been asking for years,” Cheren added. “Though, the extra years of school didn’t hurt.”

Hil had also eagerly asked for years, ever since he was ten, to head out on a journey around Unova. At the time, he had just been excited like any other kid to see the big world outside the three towns he had been to thus far. His parents had both adamantly refused. His father insisted he needed the extra schooling to better understand the world. His mother fretted about the idea of letting her son wander the region alone at such a young age, especially with news coverage of a group known as ‘Team Plasma’ picking up over the years. Hil hadn’t paid much mind to her panicking over them. All he knew was that they had gone around to most of the major cities in Unova and pled for people to consider their ideology of ‘liberating’ pokémon. Whatever lunacy drew them to the conclusion pokémon needed liberating… he had no idea.

He kind of wished that was still the reason he wanted to go out. It had been a painful conversation to have with his mother when she had insisted he go traveling Unova when just a few months earlier, when he first turned fourteen, she had still been against it. The complete turnaround on her position was yet another strange attempt at hers of trying to ‘reach him.’ Maybe his contempt for her attempts was a little undeserved and she was just genuinely trying, but he just wished she’d stop. Her efforts made it feel like they’d never get past it. “I’m really excited to get out there, too,” he said a little louder than he intended to, in a bid to shut the thoughts up. He knew better than to linger on those thoughts, he chided himself silently.

“Well, I’m glad! My only condition of course is that you take a pokédex and let it scan as many pokémon as possible!” Professor Juniper continued to explain. She paused in front of a desk stuffed in the far corner of the lab that had a laptop with enough cords running out of its rear to make it a fire hazard, Hil was pretty sure. He raised a brow at it as she flipped open the lid and the laptop’s fans gave a beleaguered hiss as they whirred to life. She typed something rapidly as she spoke to them again. “All you have to do is hold it up at a pokémon, whether they’re wild or not, and it’ll take in as much as it can. Of course, if you catch them, it can scan the Poké Ball and tell you—and us—way more! But even just scanning and meeting pokémon is fine.” She smiled up at them warmly.

“I want to meet as many pokémon as I can, fill out as much as I can!” Bianca nodded vigorously.

“I have to admit, I’ll probably only catch pokémon I think I will actually train,” Cheren said slowly, “I just… don’t like the idea of having a bunch in Poké Balls all the time, and I’d rather focus on just a few at a time.”

Hil just shrugged. He had no idea what he was going to do yet.

“Of course!” she said. She then abruptly stood upright and clapped her hands together. “Dear me, I almost forgot, how could I! How are you all getting along with your new partners, anyway?” she asked sweetly. Her eyes locked onto Hil’s Snivy and she chuckled. “I’m going to guess well.”

Hil rubbed Snivy’s head and it trilled in agreement. “The noodle’s cute,” Hil answered dryly. And I already consider it a best friend, Hil almost added.

“Oh! Did you nickname it already?” Professor Juniper asked excitedly. “That’s great! Nicknames really bring people closer to their pokémon, you know!”

“Oh, I…” Hil blinked. He hadn’t quite deliberately decided on a nickname, he had just been jokingly calling Snivy ‘noodle’ because of its serpentine body. He decided explaining that wasn’t worth it due to how excited Professor Juniper seemed to be. He just swallowed and then nodded. “Yeah, Noodle. I think it’s funny.”

“That’s adorable!” Professor Juniper beamed. “He sure seems to enjoy it!”

Hil noted that his Snivy was male. He had thought it was but hadn’t had any desire to check and make sure. He decided he’d just take the professor’s word for it. He tilted his head some to look at Noodle, who was looking up at Professor Juniper lazily. “You cool with that, Noodle?” Hil asked teasingly. Noodle yawned and he snorted. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Cheren’s sigh caught Professor Juniper’s attention and she looked at him quizzically. “I assume you have Tepig, if they have Snivy and Oshawott. Is everything okay with it?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice. Cheren blinked at her and then nervously shook his head.

“Oh, no, Tepig’s great,” he nodded, “he’s just… very… hard-headed. I didn’t trust him not to wander off if I kept him out the Poké Ball.”

“Oh, whew! I was worried you got saddled with one you weren’t a fan of,” she breathed. She looked to Bianca then. “Oshawott seems to have really taken a shine to you! So cute! Have you thought of a nickname at all?”

Bianca stuttered like she had been put on the spot. “O-oh! No, not… really… I was thinking to wait until I got to know him better before I gave him a name,” she explained. Professor Juniper nodded approvingly.

“Okay, well, that’s enough of me rambling at you, I’m sure you’re raring to get out there!”

Hil honestly would have just loved to take a nap. Going to Striaton City and back really had drained him and he balked at the idea of traveling some more that day. Though, he supposed he could always stay at the Pokémon Center hostel in Accumula Town. It wasn’t like he had to go all the way back to Striaton City. Just far enough to not have to stay at home.

Professor Juniper whisked open a drawer from that desk and grabbed three red and black, rectangular devices. She handed one to them each and proudly crossed her arms after. Hil inspected his pokédex by flipping it around some, and then tapped on the screen. It lit up and a sleek menu appeared. He tapped on a button that read ‘Pokémon’ and it took him to a blank map of Unova. Alright, fair enough, he thought with a flicker of amusement. Haven’t exactly scanned anything yet.

“Thank you very much, Professor,” Cheren said as he slipped the pokédex away into a pocket of his bag. He then dipped his head at her respectfully.

“Me too! I mean, thank you too!” Bianca puffed in a harried voice.

Hil stuffed the pokédex into his jacket pocket. The idea of scrutinizing every one of Unova’s wildlife was a daunting thought but he supposed he could at least scan pokémon he happened to come across. “Yeah, that seems like it’ll be really helpful,” Hil tried to sound as genuine as he could.

She looked at them thoughtfully for a moment and then waved her hands at them. “Okay, okay, enough of me yammering at you. I’m sure you want to go. Thanks for stopping by! Be sure to go talk to your parents again real quick if you’re heading out right away, let them know!”

Cheren, Hil, and Bianca all nodded at her. “Of course,” they said in poor unison. Cheren thanked Professor Juniper again and then took the lead, strutting back toward the entrance of the lab. Bianca’s feet skidded from under her as she tried to catch some purchase on the smooth tiles and catch up to him. Hil rolled his eyes at her spastic display and followed, shooting Professor Juniper behind them one last glance. She waved at him and Hil awkwardly waved back. As he exited the lab with his friends, it finally dawned on him.

He was actually going to be leaving home, and he would be gone for a long time. No longer would he come home to the suffocating silence, prying questions, and depressing tales of his mother and father back on their own journey through Unova. Sure, he still had his Xtransceiver and his mother had his number, but… he could surely spin up some excuses to not answer… As the thoughts ran through his mind, he heard Cheren say they should go tell their parents some final goodbyes before heading off for Accumula.

“You guys go ahead, I already told Mom bye when we were there,” Hil said quickly. He gave an almost crazed grin at Cheren and Bianca. Noodle shifted from his position around Hil’s neck and reclaimed its throne atop his head. Hil, distracted momentarily, looked up at him and laughed. “I’m trying to be serious here,” Hil told him.

“You? Serious?” Cheren snorted and crossed his arms. “If you ever start acting serious, I’ll believe aliens exist, since they’ll have had to have abducted you and swapped your brain to make that happen.”

“Very elaborate insult and very weird flex, but okay,” Hil teased and stuck out his tongue.

Cheren just waved him away. “Okay, okay, go on ahead. Bianca and I will just say our goodbyes then.”

Hil winked after him. “You got it, Daddy, thanks.”

Cheren threw his head back. “Why, Hil?” Cheren groaned. “Just why?”

Bianca just laughed raucously as they started back down the road through Nuvema. “He called you ‘daddy!’” she practically squealed between gasps for breath. “He’s right, you do act like a dad!”

“I really don’t think that’s the joke he was making, Bianca,” Cheren muttered defeatedly.

#pokemon #pokemon black and white #pokemon black #pokemon white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #pokemon black 2 #pokemon white 2 #pokemon bw #bw #black and white #natural harmonia gropius #n #hilbert #cheren #bianca #professor juniper #juniper #nuvema town #snivy

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blackrose-ffxiv · 5 years

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Ecclectic Aesthetics 11/26

Lebeaux Desrosiers generally didn’t bother knocking unless doors were locked. He tried the handle first, found it open and invited himself into the establishment. He hadn’t bothered sending a card along either, if the gallery was still a work in progress it was unlikely they were taking appointments. Far better to simply arrive. He swung the door open and stepped inside, with a likely very intentional swirl of his cloak, taking a moment to smooth the lay of his sleeves. “Good evening.” He called out loudly.

The gallery might've once been a grand venue. Now it was a memorial to some battle lost to weeds, rust, and overenthusiastic aetheric accidents, if the scorch marks on the floor and the vines trailing around every little thing was any indication. There was a strange pressure upon entering the room, a sensation of being watched from the statues placed sentinel over the center of the room. And scarier still, a creature too short to be Vivain, standing on the desk, guilty of crimes including wearing a man's shirt with the poor fit disguised by the addition of garish layers, a hat that didn't match anything, no shoes, and paying more attention to the arrangement of flora in front of her than the man of the hour who swept himself through the front door. The creature threw a look over their shoulder at the stained glass windows, studying the arrangement of kaleidoscopic colors it set into - and when none of them turned violently violet it called out in a cheerful voice, "Come in~! You're a little early for the school tour, the place isn't really in full effect until sundown--" Taji Tumet paused. She swiveled on her heel, tilted her head up, studying the stranger underneath the rakish set of her hat. "...Are you lost?"

Lebeaux was dressed in the height of Ishgardian fashion… despite being out in the midst of the desert. Poor fashion decisions had been made all around in both of their cases, but at least his matched. Though it was hard not to coordinate somber shades of black and white. “A school tour. That sounds rather optimistic. Considering the state of the place it seems a risk to expose children, or even adults, to this place... Anyone really, I suppose.” He mused as he brushed some imagined dirt from a lapel, or perhaps trying to brush off the sensation of being watched. “No, despite all of that I am here intentionally.” He tilted into a theatrical approximation of a bow before he straightened up again. “Lebeaux Desrosiers, patron of the arts, when time allows.”

Taji flashed him a sliver of a grin - aware that she was supposed to be prickled by his lack of deference to Art and History, but more amused so far by anyone who could sweep in and attempt to make themselves right at home. "It's a risk to expose anyone to history, really, without the proper context and the narrative already established, right?" She guessed wildly, raising an arm to direct his attention to - what, exactly. The empty frames? The statues? The thing looming on the other side of the latticework bearing an 'UNDER CONSTRUCTION' plaque? "They could form their own opinion about what's worth carrying over to the present day and what's meant to be censored from the annals of history. As children often do! And adults. --I'm talking out my ass here, by the way, the risks and dangers are completely overstated and irrelevant." Taji swept her own upraised arm into an imitation of his bow, exaggerating the angle at which she swept herself down and mirroring the movements of his hands despite not having wide sleeves or a cape to flutter herself, though her tail did an impressively wiggly approximation of the movement of fabric. The hat miraculously stayed balanced on her head. "Taji Tribal," she introduced herself in turn. "To what risk and danger of yours do I owe your patronage, mister Dezrozeeay?"

Lebeaux took her rambling explanation as an invitation to come in and have a look around. He wore a serene sort of smile on full lips that never managed to make it all the way to his eyes. His gaze sharp and cold as ice chips as it drifted along the works in progress. An impressive array of blank frames overgrown with unusual fauna. He made his way along towards the statues as she waxed poetic and ran rhetoric in circles. A gloved hand extended, intending to give the hideous statue a light pat when the girl finally got around to giving a name. He paused and retracted his hand, turning to flash that saintly smile in her direction once again. “Ahh, I see. Unusual art is something that runs in your family, is it not. I seem to recall a similar collection taking residence for a time in the Holy See. I can see the resemblance now, though the previous incarnation was a bit… better kept.” Lebeaux waved a hand vaguely. Whether it was at the proprietress herself or the trailing vines was difficult to discern.

Taji was watching the movements of his hands, pressing her knuckles over what looked like a smirk from behind her fingers - but when her guest turned to beam his practiced, unfeeling gestures in her direction, she let her hands fall away to reveal another genuinely delighted smile. "You've seen our previous collections? It probably looked a lot like this, yeah -- none of the actual paintings on display, or the statues. Just the frames, and maybe the ironwork fences. 'Containment'." Taji didn't seem entirely offended by his admittedly accurate assessment of her none-too-faithful recreation. She swept her arms out in an open shrug. "I'm rebuilding," she explained in so many words, "The distribution of the art used to be managed by another family member, but he is - somewhat retired. And you know how the economy is. Between the end of the Dragonsong War and the liberation efforts on multiple fronts in the Far East, there's not a lot of money to be made in art, at the moment." Taji paused, studying him again with open curiosity. "My brother had been in charge of that collection too. Your interest was caught?" She failed to specify 'what', exactly - the art. Her brother. The promise of people who maybe knew about illicit magic. Lebeaux was carefully unreadable, even to someone with lots of practice in guessing at the expressions of other people who insisted on resembling statues.

Lebeaux, unlike other statue-faced men, had taken to observing others’ expressions and mimicking them. He was rather good at it, save he could never get the eyes quite right. He took a few small steps closer to the desk, clasping hands behind his back as he shifted the beatific smile up towards the twisted stone visage that seemed to glare down at him. “I suspect it was your brother. Vivain Tribal.” He agreed. “It was a difficult time for… your sorts. Even with connections within the city walls.” He cast his best version of ‘sympathetic’ over at the xaela then looked back up at the statue. “Then add on top of it a collection with not a single piece by the Ishgardian Masters and being secular besides. It’s no wonder he moved on for greener pastures.” He mused thoughtfully. “And now you have taken on the mantle of curator. Are you taking care of acquisitions and ‘distribution’ as well. Has Vivain retired entirely.” While they were all certainly questions he still managed to make them sound imperative with the even, cultured rhythm of his voice.

"Family business, like you said. I'm in a much better position than Vi is to continue it," She said, casting a hand backwards and curling fingers around the top part of the only chair in the room. She easily flipped it up with one arm, balancing the edge of it in her cupped palm. She took a few careful steps across the desk and flipped the proffered chair back down again, angled towards her guest -- accepting that would be there for at least a little bit. Taji found it easier to shift the subject away from her missing older brother and back to general strategy -- from the painful known and unacceptable to the much more comfortable abyss of the unknown. "We probably won't be pursuing distribution in Ishgard again for another decade or so. Even if rumors suggest that 'my sorts' could purchase property there outright within the next year." She, too, was in the habit of mimicing people - or at least using their words and twisting them around to suit her own needs. She continued, without any apparent offense at his tone, "Trade regulations are too strict there to sell, much less your approval guidelines for content for merely displaying anything. Your art..." Taji raised a hand, flicking fingers like she was casting about in physical space for the words. "Exults," she said, finally. "To be divine is to consume your entire world, in Ishgard. That's why your statues are larger than any natural man. Your windows yawn up to an unreachable ceiling. At scale, your paintings stretch beyond the limits of a single glance, so that there is no room to look at anything else." Taji turned to indicate what was on display on the wall behind him, simply to point out the contrast: the clean, straight lines of the frames broken by the explosive greenery. There would be no salvation from savagery, no matter how crisp and white the canvas was.

"And yet -- you're not here for that," Taji issued a curious hum, a wavery note that easily filled the small space. "For secular pieces chosen by Ishgardian Masters. But perhaps to be terrified just the same, by something you can hardly claim to be divine. So! Tell me about yourself. You are a patron, I could use patronage. You, uh, knew Vi. Are you of high enough standing to get this sort of thing displayed in its proper context in Ishgard?"

Lebeaux turned his head to watch with amusement as the xaela performed an amusing feat of strength and balance with the large chair. He then tilted in a small gesture of appreciation, for both the show and the seat before he settled gracefully into it, taking a moment to smooth his cloak’s tails to properly array his plumage. “With the separation of church and state you may yet find fertile soil for your… bold installments. Exaltation has fallen out of favor. Instead they erect monuments to make one sympathize with those we once fought, rather than to stand in awe of Her glory.” He explained politely. That is assuming there wasn’t a sudden coup or mysterious plague or some such to nip this growing problem in the bud. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy. He placed a hand on his chest as Taji essentially made the first move to ‘cut the bullshit’. “Alas, my name won’t hold much sway if you were to bandy it about in Ishgard, though your brother never wanted for influential contacts.” He began, folding his hands primly in his lap. “I recall him being rather resourceful with unusual acquisitions. I admit a curiosity if you should have access to the same network he had built.”

"Progress at last, though it doesn't sound like it's to your taste," the Xaela noted, making herself comfortable on the desk now that their respective heights were no longer an issue. Taji could at least appreciate the metaphor of fertile soil, even if Ishgard never struck her as such before now. A city who prided itself in isolation should have felt familiar to her, and wasn't salt and snow interchangeable but for the temperature? "So you long for the days when people covered their heads before the gaze of the Fury?" She nodded to his hat. "The more traditional depictions." This so far didn't quite explain Lebeaux' appearance in the Loreate, and she was starting to wonder if her brother wasn't actually entirely spotlighting the art on display so much as he was busy /being/ art. "In part," she said truthfully. "My father has contacts that still answer when I call. My brother's way of networking is -- a bit lost on me. He was more focused on finding people with money. I am more focused on finding mages." She tilted her head once more towards the stained glass, studying their obscured reflections. "What would I hear if I were to bandy your name in Ishgard? That you were a good student at the Scholasticate?"

“Nothing.” Lebeaux answered as he held up his empty hands with that same saintly smile. “You would hear absolutely nothing. As you seem to have noted I don’t care for the new and improved flavor of Ishgard. Sweet as the ideals are going down it’s only feeding the rot that eats away at the very core of the city. As such I’ve left my name behind and taken a new one. Mentioning ‘Lebeaux Desrosiers’ would likely only get you that pitying sort of look reserved for outsiders who attempt to pronounce our names yet can’t quite get their clunky tongues to make the graceful motions. At least you tried.” He settled his hands back in his lap. “Yet outside of the Holy See I’ve been doing quite well for myself as a chirurgeon. Enough to return my interests towards the arts once again. You seek mages, I seek artifacts that will soon become difficult indeed to find. Perhaps we could assist each other.”

Taji was appropriately chagrined that he didn't just immediately tell her his real name, though the greater part of her was immensely satisfied with the idea of someone who knew the value of withholding it. "I'm sure my 'clunky tongue' sounds just fine when it summons fire into the world, and hopefully you try more often than I do your name?"

@exmhachina

#lebeaux #taji #there is no way any of this could end poorly #ever #he's been a great patron so far #patronizes the eff out of taji

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