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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

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Lepidopterophobia Prt. Two

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: People seemed to like that oneshot so I made a part two! Here is a link to part one if you want a refresher or something (Link). Word Count: ~11,329 (Again, holy shit. I do not know how I wrote so much. I blame the demon encounter that I forced myself to put in this fic and the totally unnecessary OC interaction lol) Hope you enjoy!

Shinobu was getting worried now. It may have been hiding behind sweet smiles and teasing words, but the worry was there nevertheless, churning deep within her like an undercurrent of a seemingly calm ocean cost.

She and (Y/n) had made it a habit to write each other at least once a week since they met about six months ago.

Such letters always made Shinobu feel extremely happy and giddy. Even the estate residents could determine when a letter came simply based on body language alone, although the melodic humming also helped on that front.

Giyuu had even witnessed the change first hand by chance one day and he admitted that it was the freakiest thing he had ever experienced. Especially when she walked past him and actually gave him a compliment before continuing to hum and glide down the hall. Giyuu did not know how to conduct himself in this Shinobu’s presence.

However this week was different, Mochi had not arrived, there was no letter. Shinobu quelled the initial disappointment and anxiety. Surely (Y/n) just had a tiring mission and fell asleep while drafting her message. It wouldn’t have been the first time after all. But when the second week was nearing its end, Shinobu was starting to crack.

She was admittedly a bit unfocused. Her honey sweet tone was still there, but her speech was sharp and clipped. She spent more time in her lab doing research well into the early hours of the morning, becoming more unkempt as another new dawn brought no news.

Aoi made sure Shinobu would eat. She also made it clear that the Hashira needed to be taking better care of herself in general as the young woman sulked her way into the infirmary.

“You’re worrying the younger girls because you look like you’ll collapse at any second and Kanao might not say it, but you’re worrying her too. You’re causing us all distress,” Aoi had told her, not pulling any punches. “(Y/n)-san would not be happy to see you like this.”

“Well, she isn’t here now, is she? She hasn’t been here since her first visit. Why should I care what makes her happy?” Shinobu’s seraphic voice laced with poison replied, an insincere smile painting her lips.

Aoi scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If only I knew, Shinobu-sama. I don’t quite understand you’re attraction to her myself. Maybe you should try writing her again.”

“I’ve already sent two letters. I’m not so desperate for attention to try for a third,” Shinobu responded rigidly. “My crow has always come back empty handed so I know someone is getting my messages. What more is there to do?”

“Didn’t she say in her last letter that demon attacks were becoming more frequent in her sector? Just give her some time. She isn’t that big of an idiot to ignore you on purpose.”

“I’m growing tired of this conversation, Aoi,” Shinobu sighed. “I’ll be going to the lab and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“As you wish, Shinobu-sama. I’ll send someone over with your dinner later though, and you better eat it.” Aoi replied as Shinobu walked out.

Kanao came to stand by Aoi’s side and flipped her coin, heads. “I have not seen Shinobu-neesan seem so visibly upset in a long time.”

“Yes, she must really like (Y/n)-san a lot, huh?” Aoi frowned, making another bed.

Kanao flipped her coin again, but remained silent this time around.

“Well, that idiot better respond soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

***

Shinobu drowned herself in her research well into the night. Balancing equations, messing with beakers and microscopes and reading copious amounts of botany and organic chemistry texts. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the faint tapping at the door that led out onto the engawa from her lab.

The tapping persisted almost frantically as Shinobu inked down some notes until a loud squawking caused her hand to jerk across the parchment and ruin her page. She almost didn’t care though, she leapt from her chair and slid the door open with enough speed for it to clack against the stopper hard enough to echo across the garden.

She beckoned the familiar raven to take perch on her arm, cooing and lightly stroking the feathered breast of the large bird with a sincere smile and hopeful eyes.

“Good evening Mochi,” she cooed softly. “What have you and (Y/n) been up to these past few weeks?”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!” The bird mimicked, enjoying the head scritches Shinobu was supplying him. He held a leg out toward Shinobu and she deftly untied the parchment from his leg.

“Thank you for this, rest here for awhile. I’m sure my crow wouldn’t mind sharing some snacks with you.”

Mochi cawed excitedly, flapping his way into the corner with Shinobu’s crow who seemed a bit miffed by the disturbance, but ultimately did not mind the presence of the larger bird she had come to know over the last few months.

Shinobu sat back in her writing desk and unfurled the parchment with a slight tremor running through her hands. As she began to read through the letter, concern laced through her features. (Y/n)’s tone was there. The words came off like hers, but the handwriting was unfamiliar, completely off. Each character was shaky, and stray ink splattered the parchment throughout the letter. There was no way (Y/n) actually wrote this.

The suspicious letter contained an apology for tardiness that was spun in a way that made it rather humorous and light without downplaying the seriousness of the apology, a skill Shinobu only knew (Y/n) to have mastered so well. The message continued on to talk about the high number of demons still running rampant in the area and addressed points made in Shinobu’s previous letters, but she still couldn’t get over the hand writing, it just didn’t sit right with her.

“Mochi, did (Y/n) write this?” Shinobu asked, knowing she was asking a lot of the bird to actually try to hold a conversation in a human language.

“No write, can’t write,” the bird croaked while happily eating some berries.

“Why can’t she write?” Shinobu asked, her brow wrinkled with concern.

“Forgot, can’t say, not supposed to,” the raven replied nervously.

“Mochi, what happened, is she hurt?”

Mochi shifted uncomfortably. “Healing, will be okay. Resting.”

“Is that why she didn’t reply sooner, she got hurt?” Shinobu was mostly just saying that to herself as she began eyeing one of her medicine cabinets intently. She walked over to it and opened the cabinet doors now going into full-on healer mode. “She hasn’t said anything in two weeks so it must be serious,” she turned back to the raven who jumped at the intensity of Shinobu’s gaze and attempted to hide behind the much smaller crow. “Tell me what happened Mochi. I need to know what I must bring.”

“Bring?”

“Yes, now how bad she Mochi, please focus.”

“Arms broken. Head hurts. Feverish. I worry, but she says fine.”

“Fine she says, I’ll show her fine,” Shinobu muttered as she packed the necessary materials, a vein protruding angrily from her forehead. “I need to grab some other supplies from the infirmary, don’t move a muscle.” she commanded before practically teleporting out of the lab.

Shinobu grabbed additional medicines and medical supplies, rustling about the cabinets like a tornado until Kanao came in with an inquisitive sheen to her eyes.

Still unnoticed by her adoptive sister, Kanao flipped her coin and only when she was sure of the result, she spoke.

“Nee-san, are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, Kanao,” Shinobu spun around, “I’m glad you’re still up. I’m going on a mission for a few days, maybe longer. Take care of things while I’m gone please.”

Kanao stared blankly for a moment before flipping her coin once more. Looking back up at Shinobu she asked, “Is this about (Y/n)-san?”

Shinobu faltered in her movements slightly, almost undetectable, but not to Kanao’s sharp eyes.

“How could you tell?” Shinobu smiled almost sheepishly, a faint dusting of pink coloring her cheeks. A sign she knew she had been caught.

“You never bring that much medical supplies on missions for simple demon slaying,” Kanao stated plainly. “I know you have been worried about (Y/n)-san lately. Aoi said it was only a matter of time before you took matters into your own hands.”

“I can’t get much past my smart and observant girls, can I?” Shinobu gave her usual default smile, though it looked a bit more prideful than usual. She closed up the final cabinet and secured her medicinal bag over her shoulder. When she approached Kanao she squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Look out for each other, make sure Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo keep up with their studies as well. I’ll try to be back in two days tops, but it may take longer if (Y/n) insists on being difficult. Goodbye for now, my little sister,” Shinobu released Kanao and waited patiently as the girl looked at the coin in her hand.

“Bye Nee-san, be safe,” Kanao said after a moment. Shinobu’s smile grew especially warm when Kanao had decided to speak on her own without the aid of the coin. With one last nod, Shinobu left the infirmary with a new energy about her.

***

Shinobu ran through the trees until dawn, following after Mochi as he flew above. As much as she wanted to get there as soon as possible, the many sleepless nights over the past two weeks had taken a toll on Shinobu’s physical state. She admonished herself for being so careless. How could she take care of (Y/n) if she couldn’t even take care of herself? She called for Mochi to stop for a moment and the unusual duo took roost on one of the trees thick and gnarled branches.

“How much further?” Shinobu asked, trying to disguise a yawn hidden behind a small hand.

“Be there by midday if rest short,” the bird replied.

Shinobu nodded, drinking a bit of water and stretching before resigning herself to continue on despite her muscles’ protests.

When the sun was at its highest and hottest was when Shinobu saw the weathered home Mochi was circling over. On closer inspection she recognized the insignia of the Wisteria Houses and she couldn’t help but quietly scoff to herself.

“Oh? Hello young lady, how may I help you?”

Shinobu turned and found herself looking down at a frail old woman who was even smaller than her. Realizing she had been staring, Shinobu began to answer the patient woman.

“Good afternoon, I believe you are currently looking over the demon slayer (Y/n), is that correct?”

“(Y/n)-chan? Ah yes, poor girl. She had a rough mission awhile back, she’s lucky she was with a team that night or I’m not sure she would have made it. She’s resting now I believe, but please do come in,” the old woman replied with the sweet raspiness of someone who has lived a full life and turned back towards the house, her hands trembling as she pushed the door open. She ushered Shinobu into a chair and fixed some tea for the exhausted Hashira who graciously accepted the cup.

“It is a rare honor to have a Hashira in my home, may I ask what brings you here?”

“I’m here for (Y/n),” Shinobu answered, assuming that the old woman had simply forgotten already due to her age.

“Yes, is she training under you, a Tsuguko perhaps?”

“Ah, no. She isn’t training under me,” Shinobu denied.

“I apologize, I suppose I just don’t understand then, why a Pillar of the demon slayers is taking time out of her surely busy schedule to tend to a slayer of a lower level who isn’t even under her instruction.” the old woman questioned.

“I’m afraid that is none of your concern.” Shinobu answered with a tight lipped smile. Perhaps this old woman wasn’t as senile as she had previously believed.

“I’m sorry deary, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I saw you hopping after (Y/n)-chan’s raven and I thought you may have been the recipient of her sweetly composed letter. She asked me to write it for her you see. She had been fretting over what to say for days the poor thing,” the old woman tutted, raising her own teacup to her lips with a shaky grip.

“I see,” Shinobu nodded. “You are correct though, the letter was for me. That is how I knew that I should come.”

“That’s wonderful, Insect Hashira.” the old woman smiled.

“Hisa-san?”

Shinobu turned expectantly in the direction of the voice she hadn’t heard in months, unaware of the knowing smile the old woman was directing at her.

“Well, come with me young lady. The patient is in no shape to leave her bed,” Hisa explained motioning fo Shinobu to follow her down the hallway. Hisa approached another door and gave it a courtesy knock before sliding the door open.

“Hello (Y/n)-chan, how nice of you to join the world of the living again and look who’s here to visit you...”

Hisa made room for Shinobu to enter the room and the Hashira could feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she stepped forward.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n)’s eyes gleamed. She tried to sit up, but Shinobu glided over and pushed her back on the futon.

“Hello (Y/n), we have a lot to talk about,” Shinobu said with a smile, however the dark aura did not go unnoticed by (Y/n) as the heavily bandaged girl shifted her eyes nervously to another corner of the room.

“I’ll give you two some space. Have fun with your girlfriend, (Y/n)-chan,” Hisa waved before shutting the door behind her.

“Sh- We’re not- She’s not my girlfriend!” (Y/n) called back, clearly flustered.

“Oh my (Y/n), have you been embellishing the nature of our relationship?” Shinobu gasped, hiding a teasing smile behind her hand, feigning shock.

“No, of course not!” (Y/n) shook her head, trying to look anywhere that wasn’t Shinobu. She shook her head a bit too furiously, causing her to wince and groan.

Shinobu’s face turned serious as she inspected the bandages wrapped around (Y/n)’s head. Her arms were also tightly bound, slings kept the arms crossed firmly over (Y/n)’s stomach. Shinobu pushed (Y/n)’s hair away from her forehead to get a better look at the blood stained bandage. “When was the last time, Hisa-san was it? When was the last time she changed these bandages?”

“Um, maybe yesterday I think? I’ve been kind of out of it so I’m not totally sure.”

“Someone needs to hold these wisteria locations to higher standards if we really expect anyone to survive in their care,” Shinobu tisked, noting how the loose bandages easily came undone in her fingers.

“Hisa-san does her best, she’s really good honestly, we’ve just been dealing with a lot of demons lately so supplies are thin and more demon slayers have been coming and going than usual,” (Y/n) defended, taking a sharp intake of air when Shinobu’s fingers examined her head wound.

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it... This may sting a bit,”

(Y/n) hissed as Shinobu dabbed the head wound with a cold, wet cloth. Washing off the dried blood that was caked there so she could better see the wound. It was more like a large scrape, not a gaping wound as Shinobu had initially feared. “So, care to tell me how this all happened since you neglected to mention it in your letter?”

“Um,” (Y/n) paused to clear her throat, “I’ll try but it’s all kind of fuzzy in my mind.”

“Take your time,” Shinobu encouraged, replacing the bandage on (Y/n)’s head.

“Well, I was with an improvised squad, which isn’t uncommon, but this one guy was not having it,” (Y/n) sighed. “He was acting high and mighty all night. Talking about how the rest of us were slowing him down and just being an arrogant jerk.” (Y/n) recalled, an annoyed look upon her face.

“And how exactly is this leading up to how this all happened?” Shinobu smiled, moving to (Y/n)’s arms to get a proper look at the damage there.

“Oh trust me, he’s a major player in this mess,” (Y/n) huffed. “So anyway, we were tracking this demon, right? We followed its tracks to a cave in the side of the mountain range near a village and turns out there was a whole bunch of them in there—AGH!” (Y/n) jolted, a sharp pain caused by Shinobu yanking her left arm hard and fast, making it crack loudly. “Why the fuck did you do that!?” (Y/n) wheezed.

“Your arm wasn’t properly set. It may push your healing back a bit, but at least when your arm heals it will be in the proper position,” Shinobu explained, now moving her attention to the other arm. “Please continue your story.”

“Alright then,” (Y/n) grumbled, still feeling the bone throb under her skin, “So there was a bunch of them in the cave that came out to attack us and we were outnumbered, but they were relatively low level so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Then that arrogant jerk began using breathing techniques without any regard for the rest of us. He was using stone breathing I’m pretty sure, just one technique after the other and he caused a rockslide!” (Y/n) turned away from Shinobu and had a brief coughing fit from getting so worked up.

“Here, drink this,” Shinobu paused her re-wrapping of (Y/n)’s arms to hold a waterskin of medicated water to (Y/n)’s lips and the slayer graciously accepted, downing almost half the bag.

“Thanks,” (Y/n) sighed.

“You’re welcome,” came Shinobu’s sweet reply.

“So we were having to dodge boulders and fight the demons at the same time. One girl got her ankle slashed, ripped right through her tendon and she couldn’t get out of the way of the rockslide so I was trying to carry her away from the battle zone, but then that idiot got thrown in my direction and had the audacity to use the back of my head as a goddamn springboard to fling himself back into battle and I lost balance and fell forward face first into the dirt. The girl flew out of my arms and rolled a few yards and my arms were out in front of me. Before I could move, a boulder came in and crushed my arms,” (Y/n) explained, looking down at her newly wrapped arms.

“I think I would like to have a word or two with this slayer, is he still in this sector?” Shinobu asked calmly, a dark aura contrasting her tone.

“He is, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear what you have to say, he was killed in the battle,” (Y/n) explained. “I didn’t see it, but that’s what Watanabe-san and I were told once we were brought back to safety,”

“Watanabe-san?”

“Oh, she was the slayer with the slashed tendon. We’ve been teamed up a few times in the past. She came here for medical attention but she had family nearby so she’s resting there.”

“She must have be grateful for your help that night, even if you ended up hurt as well, I’m sure she appreciated the effort,” Shinobu smiled as she finished whipping up a tonic for (Y/n)’s aching bones.

“She did, she offered for me to come with her to her uncle’s house but I told her I’d be fine here. I didn’t want to over burden her family.”

“You should have accepted, this place is kind of a dump,” Shinobu whispered with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Shinobu, that’s so rude!” (Y/n) whisper-yelled back at the mischievously smiling Pillar.

“Drink this, you’ll need to build up your strength before we can leave,” Shinobu commanded, pressing the lip of the cup to (Y/n)’s own.

(Y/n) nearly choked on the bitter medicine as Shinobu poured the contents down her throat. She shivered and made a disgusted noise when she finished chugging the mixture.

“That was terrible,” she wheezed, resting her head back down on the pillow.

“Don’t say that (Y/n), you’re hurting my feelings,” Shinobu mocked distress, “I worked so hard to make that for you after all.”

“I’m sorry, did I say terrible? I meant... tolerable, terrific! Thank you for helping me!” (Y/n) fretted, falling for Shinobu’s false grief.

“I’ll forgive you if you come quietly when it’s safe to move you,” she smiled, resting her palms on her knees.

“You keep saying we’re going somewhere. Where are we going? I’m not exactly in fighting shape at the moment,” (Y/n) lifted her slung and bandaged arms off of her stomach for emphasis.

“You’ll continue your recovery back at my estate of course. Did you really think I was going to leave you in this squalor?”

“I really wish you would stop insulting this place, Hisa-san works super hard and she is crazy fast and quiet so she could be anywhere!” (Y/n) shifted her eyes around the room before returning her gaze to Shinobu who seemed unbothered by the information. “I’m fine here, really. You don’t need to worry about me when you probably have more important things to do.”

“Are you questioning my discretion as a Hashira?” Shinobu’s smile grew, but failed to reach her eyes as she peered down at the slayer as if challenging her to speak against her plan again.

“No! Not at all, I just-“

“Great, we’ll leave tomorrow depending on your condition!” Shinobu clapped.

“But, the... the butterflies,” (Y/n) whispered, almost as if just speaking of them would be taken as an invitation to appear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to protect you in your vulnerable state,” Shinobu smiled more kindly, “Who knows, perhaps we could add exposure therapy to your rehabilitation training.”

“Please don’t,” (Y/n) pleaded.

“I still don’t understand why you dislike butterflies so much. Surely when given the option to fight alone against a demon moon or be in the same room as a butterfly you would pick the latter,” Shinobu cocked her head at (Y/n) who seemed to genuinely be mulling it over and the sight exasperated Shinobu. “Really, (Y/n)? Do you really need to think about it?”

“They just freak me out, okay!” (Y/n) shrugged the best she could, “They flutter around and I can never tell where they’re going! They have those long, skinny legs and creepy eyes and weird curly tongue things it’s just— ugh!” She shuddered.

Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh, making (Y/n) pout and narrow her eyes at her. Even as the tinkling laughter died down Shinobu’s soft expression remained and she allowed herself to smooth over (Y/n)’s hair before gently running a cold knuckle over the bruised skin of the girl’s cheek.

“I’ve missed your antics.” Shinobu sighed, her seraphic voice betraying how tired she was as the small statement slurred together ever so slightly.

“You seem tired, have you been sleeping well?” (Y/n) asked while basking in the attentions of the cool, calloused touch.

“You know how our work goes. I’m fine.”

A knock on the door brought the two girls out of the moment and Shinobu turned her head just as Hisa came in with two bowls of rice and vegetables. Shinobu was briefly impressed by the old woman, of whom she had not sensed an approach.

“Lunch for you two, please enjoy,” Hisa crooned as she set the tray on the low lying table nearby. “And here is bedding and a change of clothes for you should you wish for them Insect Hashira.”

Again Shinobu was a bit perplexed over the old woman’s ghostly ability. How had she not noticed the bundle of fabrics Hisa only now seemed to have carried? Perhaps she was too tired Shinobu mused, watching the old woman set up the futon for her.

“I’ll be there in just a moment to help you eat, (Y/n)-chan.” Hisa smiled as she patted the covers smooth.

“No need to trouble yourself, Hisa-san. I can take everything over from here,” Shinobu politely waved her off. “Please leave the rest of (Y/n)’s care to me.”

“If that is what you wish. Call if you require anything.” Hisa finished setting up Shinobu’s sleeping arrangements before slipping out of the room and sliding the door shut behind her.

Shinobu hummed quietly and got up to collect the food from the table, opting instead to set the tray at (Y/n)’s bedside. She lifted one of the bowls and pinched a sprout with the chopsticks and held it before (Y/n)’s face. “Say ahhhh,” She taunted playfully, waving the food before (Y/n)’s lips.

“You don’t need to feed me I can do it myself.” (Y/n) could feel her cheeks heat up as Shinobu persisted with her actions.

“What a bold faced lie, (Y/n). Or perhaps you hit your head harder than I thought? You do see how tightly I bound your arms, correct? Now open up, we don’t want to make a mess now do we?”

(Y/n) looked down at her covered arms slung snuggly over her stomach and made a soft sound of embarrassment. She turned shyly to Shinobu and received the bite, looking away bashfully as she chewed and swallowed.

“See that wasn’t so bad. Have some more, your body needs fuel to help it heal.” Shinobu spoke cheekily and raised the chopsticks again.

Shinobu continued feeding (Y/n) bite after bite until the bowl was empty. Then she replaced the used bowl with the full one waiting nearby and began eating her own lunch. She still sat by (Y/n)’s side and shared in conversation as she ate. Despite the plainness of the small meal, Shinobu felt like it was the best thing she’d eaten in a long time. Though she suspects it was as Mitsuri often told her, it’s the company with which one shares the meal that makes it taste so much better.

Shinobu’s lips curl into a small, sweet smile as she watches (Y/n)’s eyelids droop. When (Y/n) attempts to hide a yawn with her shoulder, Shinobu helps her lay back down from her reclined position. She only teasingly stroked (Y/n)’s hair three or four times before the slayer passed out. The smile grew a bit more proud as she realized (Y/n)’s total concentration breathing persisted even in her sleep. Shinobu studied the exhausted yet, peaceful expression. Drinking in the face she hadn’t seen in months, she wondered how a girl she had only met in person for a short period of time could already have such a prominent place in her mind.

Shinobu stretched her arms over her head and popped her spine, releasing a relaxed sigh as the tension escaped her back. The many nights of minimal, restless sleep had really taken a toll. She shuffled over to her own bed roll, only taking a moment to remove her blade, hairpin, and haori before slipping into the covers and succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

It was well in to the next morning when Shinobu finally stirred. She fought with herself to sit up, a soft groan of displeasure left her mouth as she left the heat of her blanketed cocoon. She lazily scanned the room, her eyebrows knit together once her gaze landed on the empty futon a few meters away from her own. Her ear picked up the faint sounds of a struggle coming from the next room and her senses went into high alert.

Shinobu got up and grabbed her saya, a practiced hand poised over the hilt of her nichirin blade, she edged the door open with her foot and—

“Ahh!” (Y/n) squeaked and turned away from Shinobu to cover herself with her rumpled uniform top.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Shinobu laughed, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get dressed, obviously. Can you leave please?” (Y/n) asked, trying to shoo the Hashira away.

“How long have you been trying to fit your fitted sleeves over those thick bandages?” Shinobu asked instead, smirking and leaning against the door frame.

“...I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/n) mumbled, her shoulders slouched.

Shinobu giggled and made to approach, picking up the discarded kimono that (Y/n) had worn the previous day. “Your uniform would probably make traveling more comfortable, but I really rather not have to unwrap your arms. I recommend you keep wearing this, at least until we get home.”

“But it’s not practical, what if we encounter a demon?” (Y/n) worried.

“No offense (Y/n), but no matter what you wear, you won’t be much help with a fight in your condition,” Shinobu gave a sympathetic smile as she held out the kimono and discretely eyed (Y/n)’s scar, the previous injury that had brought them together. “Of course, if you’d rather go topless who am I to judge?” She teased.

“Oh my gods, give me that!” (Y/n) took the kimono from an all too pleased Shinobu and nudged her toward the door. “It took me twenty minutes just to put on pants, sorry that I would rather not let that struggle go to waste.” (Y/n) grumped, frown deepening at Shinobu’s tinkling laughter.

“If you need any help, just ask. I’d like to leave while it’s still light out.” Shinobu called through the door.

Shinobu took her time fixing her hair and packing up her supplies, but once that was done she was pretty much ready to go. She pulled on her haori and accepted a late breakfast from Hisa and she casually taunted (Y/n) through the door as she ate.

Finally, the berated girl emerged from the separate room wearing the kimono and her haori draped over her shoulders, looking almost as exhausted as yesterday. (Y/n) loosely held onto her uniform which Shinobu took from her to pack tightly into her bag.

“Oh dear,” Shinobu tutted, “You already tired yourself out haven’t you?”

“I can still walk, despite everything else my legs somehow are fine.”

“In that case,” Shinobu reached out and pinched (Y/n)’s thigh causing the other girl to let out a surprised, slightly pained yelp.

“What was that for?” (Y/n) hissed, gingerly rubbing the sore spot through her kimono.

“For removing your slings. You could have upset the alignment of your arms.” Shinobu scolded gently as she moved to fit the slings back around (Y/n)‘s arms and neck. Once she was satisfied, she helped (Y/n) eat breakfast, which was technically lunch at this point.

Shinobu gathered the rest of (Y/n)’s meager belongings, most noticeably her nichirin blade, and hefted her bag over her shoulder. (Y/n) offered to carry it, but Shinobu refused. Once they were ready to leave, Hisa created sparks for them and wished them good fortune during their journey. Shinobu and (Y/n) thanked Hisa, bid her goodbye and headed out.

Mochi cawed joyously and flew circles around the girls as they walked through the nearby village. He was causing a scene, but (Y/n) let him have his fun. He was just excited to be out and about with his slayer again.

“(L/n)-san!”

(Y/n) stopped and turned her head, prompting Shinobu to do the same. “Oh, Watanabe-san, hi!”(Y/n) greeted the girl hunched over a crutch with a couple small children circling her. They had also stopped to stare up at the boisterous raven.

“You aren’t heading out on a mission right now are you?” Watanabe asked, worry evident as she hobbled closer. She hadn’t even acknowledged Shinobu’s presence, instead focusing her wide eyes solely on (Y/n).

“Oh no,” (Y/n) shook her head, “Just transferring health care facilities. Kochou-sama’s orders.” (Y/n) half joked, turning to the Pillar next her and finally tearing Watanabe’s eyes away from her to look over at Shinobu.

“Kochou-sama!” Watanabe gasped and bowed clumsily at the waist. “I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner-“

“It’s fine, your off duty. Relax.” Shinobu gave the girl a small smile. Watanabe released a relieved sigh and a polite ‘thank you’ before eagerly turning her attention back to (Y/n).

“Well, this was good timing seeing as you’re leaving already,” Watanabe chuckled nervously. “I was just coming by to thank you again for saving me that night.”

“No need to thank me,” (Y/n) replied bashfully. “We both ended up in bad shape by the end of the night. If it wasn’t for the others we wouldn’t have made it back anyway.”

“It still means a lot to me. We’ve been on quite a few missions together now and it feels good to know that I can trust you to have my back.” Watanabe explained, a small dusting of blush appearing over her cheeks caused Shinobu’s smile to subtly twitch. “And I love to have yours too of course!” She said. Then she paused a moment before trying to amend her statement, “I mean like, you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours when we’re killing demons and stuff!”

“Yeah, I got it.” (Y/n) laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Kawa-nee,” one of the young children spoke up, tugging at Watanabe’s clothes, “Is she that girl you talk about all the time? The one you think is really pre—“

“Is really pre, pre- professional and good at her job? Yes, that’s our (L/n)-san haha!” Watanabe squished the little boy’s cheeks until his lips were pouty and protruding harshly. “Little cousins, such a handful!” Despite looking horrified, she tittered and blushed, her hands still smushing the poor boy’s face.

“Can I pet your birb?” Another child asked from behind Watanabe, pointing to Mochi still screaming in the sky.

“Uh-“

“I’m afraid we need to keep moving along,” Shinobu interjected before (Y/n) could speak. “(Y/n) is already quite tired in her weakened state and I’d hate to have her traipsing around in the dark longer than necessary. Surely you understand.”

“Of course Kochou-sama, forgive us,” Watanabe ran a hand through her hair, her face beet red with a sheepish expression. “I guess this is goodbye for now, (L/n)-san. I wish you a full and speedy recovery. I hope to be fighting by your side again soon!” The girl spoke sincerely, “And you know, maybe hang out sometime...” she added quietly under her breath. It was something that clearly wasn’t meant to be heard but it didn’t escape Shinobu’s acute hearing as the Pillar fought to not roll her eyes.

“Thanks, Watanabe-san. I wish you an excellent recovery too, rest well,” (Y/n) beamed, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on her poor fellow slayer.

“Yes, goodbye now. Lovely meeting you,” Shinobu waved with one hand and placed the other at the small of (Y/n)’s back to usher her along. Even as (Y/n) got into a steady gait, Shinobu persisted with her touch and gave Watanabe a plastic smile over her shoulder before redirecting her attention to (Y/n), her fingers pressing a hint further into the fabric at (Y/n)’s back as she gently pushed her out of the small, bustling village.

***

They had traveled a few decent kilometers and the sun had passed its highest point. Mochi had finally grown tired of his circling and took a precarious perch on the slant of (Y/n)’s shoulder as she and Shinobu continued to walk through the twisted woods.

“Do tell me when you need to rest, (Y/n). I don’t wish for you to pass out on me, I’ve got enough things to carry as is.” Shinobu spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded them for awhile now.

“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) spoke with an ill timed cough.

“Perhaps a quick break is in order after all.” Shinobu frowned, placing the back of her hand on (Y/n)’s scalding forehead she winced internally. “You’re burning up. We’re pushing too hard, rest.”

“I can keep going Shinobu, really. I don’t want to slow you down any more than I already have.”

“(Y/n), I’m out here because I want to be. There is nothing more important to me in this moment than your well-being. Now sit under this shady tree, drink some of this medicated water, and rest.” Shinobu commanded, helping (Y/n) lower herself to the ground and offering a waterskin for the girl to drink from.

“Mmm ‘kay.” (Y/n) mumbled, too tired to argue further.

Shinobu simpered at the injured slayer then stood and turned to take in her surroundings. She looked to the trees above and counted veiny offshoots of the sun illuminated greenery above, killing time until (Y/n) could travel more ground.

I’m going to need to be especially vigilant tonight.

“ShinobuShinobuShinobuShinobu!”

Shinobu whipped her head around back to (Y/n) heart racing she was by her side in an instant and cupped the quivering girl’s cheeks in her hands. Her eyes switching between (Y/n) and the surrounding environment rapidly to try to understand what could possibly have upset her so- oh.

“Shinobu!”

“I see, I see. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Shinobu released the tension she had been holding and moved to shoo away the small black butterfly that was happily perched on one of the roots of the tree. She watched as it fluttered a few meters away to the trunk of another tree before Mochi spooked it even further away. She wanted to be mad at (Y/n), to scold her for scaring so badly over something that couldn’t possibly hurt her, but instead she smiled tenderly and crouched down to sit next to the quaking girl and pulled her into a caring embrace, having (Y/n)’s head rest in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t worry. I’m watching it, just focusing on your breathing. I’m here.” Shinobu cooed as (Y/n) hid her face in Shinobu’s chest.

True to her word, Shinobu watched the insect flutter around as Mochi attempted to chase it away. She found it odd that the butterfly would continue to stick around after being repeatedly dive bombed by the bird, but she didn’t think too much of it. Shinobu shifted her position ever so carefully to get a bit more comfortable since she could tell (Y/n) had fallen asleep. Whether out of stress or just plain physical exhaustion she wasn’t quite sure, but she’d wager that both played a part.

She allowed the girl to sleep a while longer, enjoying the simplicity of this rare peaceful moment and committing it to memory. They only had a few hours of daylight left now, so Shinobu begrudgingly patted (Y/n)’s back.

“(Y/n), it’s time to start moving again.” Shinobu’s seraphic voice called out.

(Y/n) groaned and shook her sleep addled head from her position on Shinobu’s shoulder, her nose grazed the side of Shinobu’s neck as she did so.

“(Y/n), night will soon befall us. We must go. However, once we get back to the Estate, you may sleep on me all you want if that’s what you desire.”

(Y/n)’s head shot up and she fell back against the roots away from Shinobu’s flirtatiously teasing smile, feeling the heat radiating off her face increase ten fold.

“Sorry!” (Y/n) stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“No need to apologize, you looked very cute. So cuddly too,” Shinobu teased as she helped the poor girl to her feet. Before (Y/n) could reply, Shinobu pushed (Y/n) forward, her hand taking a now familiar perch over (Y/n)’s obi. “Let’s be on our way! Mochi, you can stop tormenting that butterfly now,” she spoke over her shoulder to the raven and watched him dive at the insect one last time before soaring above their heads.

“Why do you keep guiding me by the waist? I know how to get to where we’re going,” (Y/n) asked while staring warily over her shoulder at the black butterfly dodging a beam of light to continue lurking in the shaded grove.

“The forest floor is covered in gnarled roots and jagged rocks. I’d hate for you to trip and not be able to break your fall.” Shinobu explained. “Like that,” she giggled her whole arm now curled around (Y/n)’s waist as she pulled the girl back up before (Y/n)’s tripping could completely fell her. “You should really watch where you’re stepping.”

“But I need to watch the butterfly!” (Y/n) insisted, still looking back despite Shinobu’s advice.

“I’m standing right beside you.”

“What are you- oh, I see what you did there, Insect Pillar.” (Y/n) chuckled.

Shinobu continued to distract (Y/n) from her fear as they walked on. Telling (Y/n) about the last visit Tanjirou and his squad paid to the Butterfly Estate as well as an embarrassing story about Tomioka Giyuu that had both girls snickering at the poor man’s misfortune.

As dusk fell over the forest, Shinobu estimated they would make it home in a couple more hours. To travel by darkness wasn’t safe for numerous reasons, but at least they had a lovely full moon to light the way.

The conversation between the two girls naturally died off as the pinks and oranges of the sunset disappeared and night fell. It was necessary for them to stay alert of their surroundings, to be able to hear even the slightest shift in the wind beneath the near deafening songs of cicadas and crickets. Even Mochi flew high above the trees, silently searching for anything amiss.

(Y/n) shivered as a cool breeze shook the leaves of the trees and wished she could pull her haori more tightly over herself. She casually glanced to her left but soon did a double take, swiveling her whole head to the side and pausing in her footsteps. This alerted Shinobu as her hand stayed at (Y/n)’s back.

(Y/n) thought she had saw something. Something small and dark crossed the edge of her vision but whatever it was, if it was anything at all, was gone now. She turned to shake her head at Shinobu to communicate the momentary pause before they continued on the path with near silent footfalls.

They weren’t much further along when another dark shape crossed (Y/n)’s peripheral. Another chill overtook (Y/n)’s body and she could feel the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle to attention. She pursed her lips and side stepped out of Shinobu’s touch and stopped walking.

(Y/n) flickered her eyes between Shinobu’s and her blade twice. The Hashira interpreted the expression easily and poised her now free hand over the hilt of her blade as she scanned the thick woods around them. This part of the forest let in precious little light from the moon, only a few sporadic beams managed to kiss the cold earth below.

The cicadas and crickets had gone quiet.

Another particularly strong gust of howling wind rattled the leaves and pushed at the young slayers’ clothes and hair, yet still nothing emerged from the darkness. Shinobu and (Y/n) knew better than to lower their guard now however.

A few tense, painfully quiet minutes passed before (Y/n) heard it. A faint ‘fwtfwtfwt’ steadily growing in intensity. (Y/n) looked over to Shinobu who nodded in her direction. The Hashira had lowered her bag and (Y/n)’s sheathed blade to the ground in the nook between two roots of a nearby tree before withdrawing her own poison laced blade from its saya and holding it at the ready.

The noise grew louder, sounding like paper flapping rapidly in a windstorm and (Y/n) couldn’t stop the scream that shot out from her throat and escaped through Shinobu’s hastily placed finger tips that had been slapped over her lips.

Butterflies, at least a hundred if they had to guess, emerged from the darkness with the same inky black color of the one they encountered in the earlier that day.

(Y/n)’s lips quivered against Shinobu’s hand and the rest of her shook just as violently, yet her feet remained as firmly placed as a statue. Too consumed by fear to even think about bolting away.

There was nowhere to run anyway, the butterflies flew around them from all angles, more waiting just beyond the trees.

“You found my dinner have you, my lovelies?” A gravelly voice called from the darkness, followed by a sound that was like a dusty cackle mixed with a cough. “She moves rather quickly for being in such a weak state.”

A looming figure finally caught a beam of moonlight and (Y/n) wished desperately to have missed the state of such a miserable looking creature. It was a decrepit looking thing, a grotesque demon with two obscenely large, vacant compound eyes that protruded far from its face. The demon’s faded blue kimono was torn and frayed at the hem, revealing bare feet caked in dried blood and dirt. It was an old, ragged relic that paid homage to humanity long since lost.

“Ahh, there’s the damaged goods,” The demon smiled sinisterly at (Y/n), its bulbous eyes unmoving, “Just the scent of your fear alone is oh so delectable. I can’t wait to taste the rest!” the demon’s voice crackled, its neck craned to scrutinize (Y/n)’s form, a long, wire thin tongue escaped chapped lips for a moment in a poor attempt to wet them.

“Ara, what an abomination you are,” Shinobu taunted, stepping in front of (Y/n) to obscure her from the demon’s view, “You’ve really made a mess of things you know? I was going to help (Y/n) get used to butterflies but showing your repulsive form has surely driven her further into fear. I’ll have to dispose of you quickly for causing such a setback.” Shinobu spoke, her lips quirked upward in a kind of smile that somehow radiated pure anger and disgust.

“Be gone, slayer. Your blood is no good. My babies have whispered of you. They assessed you in the daylight, the girl is slowing you, leave her to me. You cannot protect her while fighting my kaleidoscope, leave her now and you’ll live to see another sun.” The demon spoke as if it was being most generous, even chivalrous, with its proposal.

“My, what ludicrous words you speak. I have half a mind to cut out your tongue over such a suggestion. My blade may not be suited for chopping heads, but for this purpose it should work just fine!” Shinobu leapt up into the trees, the sudden movement was followed by a swarm of black butterflies.

(Y/n) was breathing heavily, trying to regain total concentration with no success. She had no idea what to do. She had no way of helping Shinobu in her condition. There was nowhere to go-

“Mochi!” (Y/n) yelled out into the sky. The raven was busy avoiding a smaller swarm of demon insects, performing various swoops and dives to stay out of their way. “Lose those butterflies and go to the Estate! Get help!” The raven released a distressed caw, reluctant to leave his slayer behind, but with a few well made aerial maneuvers he spun away from the insects’ traps and flew off into the night. But not before squawking an ominous warning.

“Careful, draw much blood so sharp!”

“Blood, sharp? What-“

“Troublesome girl, by the time anyone gets here the only thing left to help with will be cleaning your entrails from the moss and roots!” The demon lurched forward, the motion encouraged (Y/n) to finally find her legs, bolting just before the demon could reach her with its gnarled claws. She could feel the displaced air from the missed swipe at her neck.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” (Y/n) must have yelled the expletive a thousand times as she stumbled away from the hungry beast, between the length of her kimono and the binding of her arms her efforts alone would surely not be enough to escape.

“Run all you like, my babies show me all. Even now I see the other human hopping amongst the branches above looking for an opening she won’t find. It’s all hopeless.”

As the demon slowed its pursuit, butterflies flanked (Y/n)’s sides as she continued to run. She made a particularly hard turn and fell forward, having just enough forethought to twist so her back hit the ground rather than her slung arms.

As she tried to bring herself back to her feet, something caught her eyes that made them blow wide open. The butterflies that had been hot on her trail had been embedded deep into the bark of the tree she had ducked behind. As she processed the information the demon drew closer in the moonlight until its shadow loomed over (Y/n) who was still struggling to get up.

“You’re mine!” The demon snarled, unfurling its whiplike tongue.

“Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter!” Shinobu had re-emerged from the shadows of the trees at lightning speed, her blade poised to strike deep within the demon’s back.

The demon grinned wickedly, (Y/n) could see herself reflected in its gargantuan eyes, as well as another wave of butterflies flying around her in a beeline towards Shinobu.

“Sharp!” (Y/n) finally understood, but everything was happening much too fast. “Shinobu, stop!” (Y/n) screamed.

Shinobu’s breath hitched and she changed her trajectory at the very last moment to take a forward tumble and land a few meters away from the demon’s side. She quickly burst forward once her feet made contact with the earth and less than gracefully scooped (Y/n) from the ground, half carrying her as she continued to hop away.

“I hope you had good reason for that little outburst,” Shinobu’s voice strained as she tried to maintain her grip, her arms already aching. A familiar self loathing at her lack of physical strength bubbling to the surface.

“Shinobu, the butterflies’ wings are sharp enough to slice into trees. You would have been cut into ribbons if you flew into them!” (Y/n) hastily informed. “The demon said it could see through the butterflies, so even if its not looking directly at you, if there is a butterfly tailing you it knows where you are!”

“What an annoying creature,” Shinobu huffed, as she struggled to lean (Y/n) against a large boulder to help her regain her footing. “Long range battles are less than favorable.”

“It’s only a matter of time before it catches up again, what can we do? Mochi probably hasn’t even made it to the Estate yet,” (Y/n) murmured worriedly, mind whirring as fast as possible to come up with a solution.

“You needn’t worry, (Y/n),” Shinobu brushed her fingers over (Y/n)’s jaw and tilted her head so their eyes would meet, “I merely stated that long range unfavorable, in order to kill this demon, I’ll simply have to move so fast that it won’t matter if it can see me coming and remove those pesky eyes.” She smiled.

“But Shinobu-!”

“(Y/n), I certainly hope you aren’t doubting my abilities. Perhaps in your very lax use of titles and honorifics you’ve forgotten that I hold rank over you, yes? The highest rank a demon slayer can achieve?”

“I’m very sorry, Kochou-sama! That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) bowed awkwardly, a nervous sweat rolling off her brow.

“I didn’t say you had to stop being informal with me, just trust that I know what I’m doing, silly girl,” Shinobu smiled affectionately at her chagrined companion before spinning gracefully on her toes to face the dark abyss that was steadily growing louder, her nichirin sword at the ready, “Now, listen carefully and do as I say...”

***

A few moments later, they were under attack once again, the butterflies descended upon them in a flurry, but they were ready.

(Y/n) and Shinobu split off, a majority of the demon bugs swarmed after Shinobu as (Y/n) clambered back to where Shinobu had discarded her bag. It was still quite a ways off and (Y/n) could only hope the demon was as slow as Shinobu believed it to be. Sure, it seemed to take pause during a few points in its chase, but it could just as easily be toying with them.

(Y/n) nearly tripped due to a shallow hole in the dirt, but was lucky enough to regain her balance and keep going despite the disruption of her forward momentum. She must have cursed her useless arms over a million times in the last ten minutes alone.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing Shinobu!” (Y/n) hissed to herself as one butterfly got to close and managed to swipe her cheek, a streak of blood mingled with stinging sweat.

Finally she saw the discarded bag and her sword which she wished desperately to be able to use. She had no time to stop and figure out how to pick the bag up so she made a little prayer that her uniform would cushion the valuable vials Shinobu said were inside and kicked the bag high into the air, managing to catch the strap in her teeth, and kept running.

(Y/n) made a large arc around another thick grouping of trees and began making her way back into Shinobu’s general area. (Y/n)’s head and heart were pounding and her vision was blurring dangerously. And that was the least of her problems. Adrenaline or no, (Y/n) was sure she was at her limit and was going to crash very soon.

“I have grown tired of this game!”

(Y/n) cried out as the demon lunged from the shadows and tackled her to the ground, it’s mouth frothing and dripping foamy saliva onto (Y/n)’s kimono. (Y/n) managed to kick the demon off and she scooted frantically backwards, watching the angry monster crawl after her with its tongue lashing at her retreating ankles.

“This wasn’t part of the plan! This wasn’t part of the plan!” (Y/n) chanted to herself as she ripped one of her arms free from its sling, wincing through the pain as she straightened it and dug through the bag while still scrambling backward.

“Uhehehe! You’re little friend is busy with a special addendum of this demon blood technique of mine. I left her with enough of my babies to make a clone of myself. There are no obvious differences to be found, she will die believing she was truly facing off with me,” the demon cackled, fully clutching onto (Y/n)’s ankle and dragging her back, “little did she know I was really here, devouring her friend!”

“Devour this, bitch!” (Y/n)’s arm withdrew from the bag with a surgical syringe in her bandaged fist and stabbed it deep into the nearest eye of the miserable creature, draining the purple liquid into the gelatinous mass.

The demon roughly pushed the girl back and released a most horrendously shrill scream into the night. It reeled back on its haunches and clutched at its face.

“What have you done to me! My eyes! My eyes!” It bellowed, its eyes had begun to deteriorate at a rapid pace, a purplish red puss leaked from its tear ducts as it blindly grasped at (Y/n)’s legs. “I’ll make you wish you were never born!”

(Y/n)’s eyes clenched shut, she had no strength left to continue fighting, everything hurt so much she couldn’t even move to defend herself any longer. She could feel the hot breath against her neck, but then the sensation was quickly replaced with that of the cool night breeze and her eyes shot open to see a pure white haori flutter against her cheek.

“Kanao-san!” (Y/n) cheered, her expression one of euphoric disbelief.

“Where did you go you slippery little worm!” The demon shrieked, ripping madly at the ground with its claws.

Kanao stopped a safe distance away from the ranting beast and laid (Y/n) onto the grass and began assessing the beyond beat up slayer before her.

“Wait, Kanao-san, the demon needs to be dealt with and we need to find Kochou-sama.” (Y/n)’s speech was hurried and a bit slurred, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay present in the moment and (Y/n) was trying very hard to stay lucid to update Kanao on the situation.

Kanao stared down at (Y/n) then up at the writhing demon, then back down at (Y/n). She gingerly adjusted (Y/n’s neck and head so that she was looking back at her tormentor of the night and could see what was about to take place. (Y/n)’s heart filled with relief as a familiar blur, that was truly very blurry at this point, ambushed the demon from the trees. “She’s okay...”

“Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!” Shinobu speedily stabbed the demon multiple times, injecting it full of her poison. She was absolutely furious. Not only had the demon wasted her time with that cheap parlor trick clone, it had left (Y/n) in worse shape than Shinobu had found her in the care of the Wisteria House.

She dug her heel harshly into the demon’s ribs once she got a good look at (Y/n) as Kanao tended to her. Shinobu’s jaw set tightly and she glared darkly at the demon writhing and gasping under her foot.

“You,” Shinobu spoke lowly. “I wish I could kill you a hundred more times, but this will have to do. I’ve used my most agonizing blend of poison after all.” She waited for the demon to release one final wheeze before stepping away, crushing a wilting remnant of a demonic butterfly into ash beneath her foot as she made her way over to Kanao and an unconscious (Y/n) with a visibly pained expression.

“Thank you for your impeccable timing and diligence. When I heard that scream I thought... You got to her just in time,” Shinobu knelt down opposite Kanao, beside (Y/n), checking over the girl’s body for any injury that could not wait to be dealt with.

“Mochi was invaluable. I wouldn’t have even known to come to the forest without him. He’s guiding a couple Kakushi here as we speak,” Kanao reported as she would upon completing a mission.

“I’m glad,” Shinobu twined her idle fingers with those on (Y/n)’s left hand and closed her eyes wearily. “I’ve done nothing but put her in danger tonight. She needs to be kept in hands stronger than mine.”

Kanao hesitantly reached out and covered (Y/n) and Shinobu’s joined hands with her own, meeting her sister’s curious gaze a bit nervously. “I... I don’t think (Y/n)-san could be in more capable hands than your own, Neesan.”

“She’s right.”

Kanao and Shinobu blinked at each other before tilting their heads downward to find half open (e/c) eyes staring back up at them.

“It was a strange and clever demon, it targeted me specifically because it observed my injuries and knew I’d be easy pray. If I had been at the top of my game, or if you didn’t have to worry about me, you would have been able to take out that demon much faster. It took advantage of us, so don’t belittle yourself, please.” (Y/n) smiled warmly and weakly squeezed Shinobu’s fingers.

“You’re too kind,” Shinobu gave a small smile in return, “Don’t strain yourself now, rest.” She spoke softly, but (Y/n) continued to babble in her feverish, exhausted haze.

“I just don’t want you to be sad, you know? You work so hard and you’re so cool and smart and beautiful so, yeah, gods I’m so tired. Imma take a nap righ’ here. Night.”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!”

“Ah!”

Mochi had swooped in from high above the trees and landed on (Y/n)’s chest with wings outstretched and proceeded to hop around her torso and cry with relief.

Shinobu gently admonished the bird, offering her arm as a more acceptable perch as (Y/n) groaned and turned in on herself.

“Kochou-sama, Tsuyuri-sama!” two Kakushi called as they emerged from the trees, one cradled (Y/n)’s sword in their arms as they made their hasty approach.

“Oh gods, you again?” One of the Kakushi griped once he caught sight of (Y/n) on the ground. “You aren’t going to fight me when I pick you up again, are you?”

(Y/n) pouted and shook her head slightly, fighting to keep consciousness despite claiming that she was going to sleep.

“Shinobu promised to keep the butterflies away, it’s fine.” She mumbled, forgoing usual formalities that she would normally use in the presence of others.

“What do butterflies have to do with anything?” the other Kakushi wondered aloud, scratching their head with the hilt of (Y/n)’s blade.

“Just ignore her, it’s been a long night and I’d like to get home,” Shinobu waved them off, trying to distract from (Y/n)’s slip of her self proclaimed, ‘most embarrassing secret’.

The gruff Kakushi picked (Y/n) up and with a little help from Kanao, got her slung over his back.

“Ugh, everything hurts. Don’t bounce so much,” (Y/n) whined, her voice muffled by the Kakushi’s back.

“Quit complaining I-“

“Do be gentle with her please,” Shinobu interjected, she gripped the Kakushi’s shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile that shook him to his very core.

“Y-yes ma’am!”

***

(Y/n) awoke several hours later. She was disoriented, but clean and warm in the comfort of the Butterfly Estate’s infirmary.

“(Y/n)-san woke up!” Kiyo exclaimed from (Y/n)’s side, startling the girl from her haze between sleep and wakefulness.

“Hey, Kiyo, how long was I out?” (Y/n) asked the small girl at her bedside who was quickly joined by Naho and Sumi scurrying over from the opposite side of the room.

“You’ve been asleep for over three days since you got back. Shinobu-sama slept a lot too. Not as much as you, but once she had you taken care of she slept almost all day!” Kiyo informed. “It’s been awhile since Shinobu-sama has slept so soundly.”

“I’m glad she’s been resting. That fight was, kind of intense to say the least,” (Y/n) shuddered just thinking about that battle. She was sure she’d be seeing long, whipping tongues, bulbous eyes and razor sharp butterflies in her nightmares from now on. She needed to become even stronger. “Has Kochou-sama said anything about when my recovery training will begin to you girls?”

“Hmmm no,” Sumi shook her head.

“She just asked to make sure you don’t leave your cot and to call for her if your condition worsened.” Naho supplied.

“You are in no shape to even think about recovery training right now.”

Everyone jumped and turned to the door, observing Shinobu as she crossed the threshold into the infirmary. The younger girls parted for Shinobu, the Hashira took ahold of (Y/n)’s chin and jaw in one hand and gently turned it this way and that to check the cuts and bruises that marred the slayer’s face. She released a quiet, satisfactory hum seeing that nothing appeared infected. As she continued her evaluation, she continued to speak, “Your body has been through a considerable amount of stress to say the least. The way I see it, you’ll be out of commission for a couple months at the very least.”

“A couple months? But—!”

“Shhh,” Shinobu adjusted her hand to cover (Y/n)’s lips and stifle her protests. “I will hear no ‘buts’ about it. This is not up for debate. Now you will not leave this bed until I have personally cleared you to do so. Have I made myself clear?” Shinobu’s eyes stare relentlessly into (Y/n)’s, almost threateningly so, as she slides her hand to rest on the bedridden slayer’s shoulder, awaiting an answer.

“Crystal clear,” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to sink further into the bed. Shinobu squeezed their shoulder gingerly before withdrawing her hand completely with a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad you understand,” Shinobu hummed approvingly. “Now, you must be hungry. Girls,” she turned to Sumi, Kiyo and Naho, “see if Aoi needs help with dinner, please.”

“Yes, Shinobu-sama!” the girls nodded vigorously, waving goodbye before disappearing out of the room and down the hall with the soft thuds of tiny feet on wood.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Shinobu asked, directing her attention back to (Y/n).

“Hmm? Oh, I’m okay. Just, tired. Sore.” (Y/n) startled a bit, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious that she had been staring at Shinobu while the youngest girls of the estate took their leave.

“I see,” Shinobu hummed, setting herself to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” (Y/n) flexed her ankle, hitting her foot against Shinobu’s side, “I wish you would believe me when I say that.”

“It’s hard to argue the contrary. I did take you away from the Wisteria House after all. As shoddy as the building is, at least the wisteria would have kept you safe.”

(Y/n) moved to kick at Shinobu again, but the Hashira blocked the foot, leveling a warning glance at the bedridden slayer.

“You know, I was really surprised when you came.” (Y/n) admitted, turning to look out the window. She flinched when she noticed the butterfly on the other side, but kept her eyes on it, watching. “It made me really happy, actually.”

Shinobu blinked, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t need to however as (Y/n) kept talking.

“I had been looking for an excuse to come by, to visit. I didn’t know what you’d think. I thought that you were just fine with being pen pals and me showing up would be weird, and then I thought about the butterflies and I just lost my nerve every time I thought about it. And then I got hurt again and I thought the letter I had Hisa-san write would be good enough for you, but you came to see me for yourself,” (Y/n) paused and gulped nervously, still watching the butterfly as it was joined by another.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot that you would take time to come look after me when your so busy. Even when it got dangerous, I can’t say that I regretted it because I was just happy to be with you— Eep!”

Shinobu moved from her perch at the end of the bed to lay over (Y/n)’s body, her face hidden in (Y/n)’s neck.

“Shinobu!”

(Y/n) felt rumblings over her neck and chest growing in intensity and although it hurt, she smiled brightly as Shinobu’s laughter racked her body.

“Thank you.” Shinobu chuckled once she had reined in her laughter. “That was very sweet of you to say. Aren’t you embarrassed to speak so candidly?”

“Should I be?” (Y/n) asked, nervously. “Oh gods, I didn’t read this wrong, did I?”

Shinobu rose herself to rest on her elbow, her other hand raised to silence the girl below her before her second guessing got too out of hand and tapped her nose playfully. The action drawing (Y/n)’s up to Shinobu’s filled with mirth and warmth.

“You have nothing to worry about. Relax, don’t over exert yourself.”

“So, you...?”

“Mhmmm,” Shinobu smiled, curing a lock of (Y/n)’s hair between her fingers, “so don’t stress. After all, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other while you heal over the next few months. And then, once you heal and are able to take on missions again, maybe you won’t have to think twice about coming over for a visit, hm?”

“I- I suppose not.” (Y/n) smiled bashfully at the butterfly goddess above her.

“Shinobu-sama, you’re going to crush her!”

Shinobu and (Y/n) whipped their heads to the door where Aoi, Kanao, and three mildly concerned young girls stood with food trays in hand.

“My, I’m not that heavy am I? Choose your answer wisely,” Shinobu cocked her head playfully in (Y/n)’s direction, watching her shake her head and laugh.

“Not at all my lady. No more heavy than a blanket really.”

“Ugh, is this what I’m going to have to put up with now?” Aoi groaned and rolled her eyes, placing a tray on the nightstand beside (Y/n)’s bed while fighting the smile that threatened to tug at her lips.

Aoi watched as the younger girls cheered and giggled, crawling on to the bed to chatter on about anything that came to mind as they ate their own dinners. Even Kanao had pulled up a chair, a relaxed smile on her face. Aoi begrudgingly pulled up her own chair, basking in the warmth of the moment despite the strange seating accommodations that certainly weren’t befitting of a proper dinner.

“So annoying.”

#kny oneshots #kny x reader #demon slayer oneshots #demon slayer x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 4

As Maya staggered away, the other members of the company sat down where they were, as if their strings had been cut. The large man who had praised Maya previously now pounded his fists on the floor in anguish.

“Goddammit…… not again.”

“…… ‘Again’?”

As Bond gave him a puzzled look, the man tried to explain in detail.

“Actually, this kind of thing has been going on for a while. Like he said, we’re quite famous in Whitechapel, so nobles who’ve heard of our reputation come asking us to perform on a whim. But they always cancel at the last minute, giving some reason about us being poor.”

“That’s horrible……”

“I haven’t been with this company long, but it’s already happened two or three times while I’ve been here. So for Maya, who’s been here since it was established, she’s probably seen these promises broken countless more times. But every time this happens, she always clutches on to some glimmer of hope and tries to encourage everyone. For her, I think, she’s probably been pushing herself way too hard.”

Bond thought back to how she’d looked when they first met at this theatre. Her brave figure as she’d clung on to the few chances they were given surfaced in his mind, and his heart was lanced with pain.

A sense of helplessness seized hold of him.

“Sorry, but could you go see if she’s alright? She probably wants to be alone right now, but it seems she trusts you quite a bit too.”

Bond nodded, and headed for the dressing room.

It was a narrow space. Seated on a chair, sunk into despondency, was Maya.

“Miss Maya. Are you alright?”

He knew there was no way she was alright, even as he’d asked that, but Maya returned him a slight smile nevertheless. Even now, it seemed as though she was on the verge of collapse.

“I’m, alright. But I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your time with us, Mr Bond.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s you and your company who’s hurting right now, isn’t it?” he asked with concern.

She shook her head.

“It’s okay. Somehow, I had a feeling, about this.”

Her smile turned into a lonely self-mockery.

“We’ve been here so many times, I think I’ve finally learned something. This time, too, I thought I could just give it my all, but somewhere deep down it’s grown cold. There’s no point in hoping anymore. Nobles would never give people like us a chance anyway. I knew that already, yet I still drew you into this…… Honestly, I’ve just come to hate myself.”

Perhaps it was because she was revealing her true emotions, for she sounded just like when she’d stood on stage: her words betraying no hesitation, and piercing straight through his chest. Those vacant eyes finally led him to understand why she’d chosen those three fairytales to perform.

“The Red Shoes”, “The Little Mermaid”, and “The Little Match Girl” — the protagonists of all three stories had one thing in common: they each met a harsh fate from which they could not be saved.

Maya herself loved children’s literature, and possessed a kindness in wanting to make her stories understandable by everyone. But on the other hand, perhaps unconsciously, she held sympathy for stories of tragedy.

“Even that nobleman said so himself, at the end. That at least, it was a nice dream. ……I think so too. For people like us, we just have to be satisfied with dreams. Even if we play kings and queens on stage, once the show is over, we actors will just go back to being helpless commoners. The thought of us succeeding in this world, will forever be a pipe dream.”

“That’s—”

“—absolutely right. Because reality is cruel like that. We should take these fairytales, these tragedies, and use them as lessons. ‘The poor should live their lives as befits their station.’ ‘Just perform the role you have been given.’ These rules have never once changed for a very long time.”

“…………”

You just have to perform the role you’ve been given.

Not too long ago, similar words had passed his own lips. [1]

In response to that, Moran had taught him to think and act for himself. And by immediately putting that lesson into practice, he’d finally been accepted by Moran as a colleague.

However, that lesson did not apply here: even if they wanted to do so, Maya and her company were not even afforded the opportunity to show it.

Their dreams had been trampled upon by an absurd reality. Yet despite his anguish, he was also at his wit’s end.

“——Bond.”

Just as he’d grit his teeth at his own inadequacy, he heard a voice from behind him.

Turning around, he saw Moran standing in the doorway of the dressing room.

“Wanna go outside for some fresh air?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“What a bind, huh. Even though he’d cancelled on them unreasonably, since he manages the entire venue, they can’t do anything about it.”

Moran summarised their plight as he and Bond stood outside the theatre. The sky above Whitechapel was blanketed in smog brought in by the prevailing westerly winds, blocking the sunlight that should have been shining onto the streets.

“What will you do now?” Moran asked, as he lighted a cigarette.

“I don’t know. I want the world to recognise their talent and sheer effort, though it’s not like there isn’t a way to do that……”

Moran caught on to the ‘way’ Bond had been considering.

“With the help of Albert and the others, we might just be able to set up one licensed theatre for them.”

“But it would be meaningless if we did so.”

Using unlawful methods, or simply brandishing authority to solve their problems would be nothing more than plain arrogance. That, would be no different from how the nobleman had conducted himself.

“In the end, they must prove their ability using their own strength. We could help them as individuals, but recklessly employing any higher power than that would not be in their interest.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

Maya and her company had to fight on with their innate power.

Moran blew out a thin trail of smoke.

“Well then, other than their acting chops, I wonder what else they can use to show what they can do,” he said in a low voice.

Bond put a hand to his chin as he pondered.

“What else…… Well, they do have the trust of the East End residents——”

Just as he said those words, he was struck by a flash of inspiration. He turned to Moran, half in surprise, and the corner of Moran’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Thought of a good plan?”

Bond dropped his gaze to the floor as he mulled over his idea once more.

“If anything, it’s a strange one. But I have a plan. ……Moran-kun, did you know that I’d come to this conclusion beforehand?”

Moran flashed him a wry smile.

“’Course not. I just thought, if it’s you, you’d be able to come up with something no one else can think of.”

“…………”

It had not been calculation, but trust. Trust that he would be able to break them out of their quandary.

Bond chuckled in astonishment. That’s right — what had he been fretting about all this while? It was in his very nature to abhor doing things conventionally. In that case, he should break out of the rigid box he’d been pacing within, and seek out a solution within a larger scheme.

He gazed at the heavens. The sun was still on the other side of the grey, but he could feel a single ray of light shining through.

“Thank you, Moran-kun.”

With a wink, Bond thanked him from the bottom of his heart.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one who thought of this. But from the looks of it, it seems you’re gonna do something interesting.”

“You could say that. But I may need you and the rest to do me a favour.”

“Got it. We’ve come this far — use me as you wish.”

With their conversation at an end, Bond entered the theatre once more. Now, he had neither doubt nor hesitation: the fog within his heart had lifted.

He headed to the stage with sure steps. There, the company, with Maya included, was in the midst of packing up.

“Mr Bond, has something happened?”

He looked much more determined than he did just minutes ago. For a moment, Maya’s doubts overshadowed her despair.

Bond faced them all, speaking clearly and with conviction.

“If you’re willing—— I have a plan.”

Footnotes:

[1] See Chapter 24 of the manga (“The Adventure of the Four Servants”).

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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coke-and-candy · 4 years

Text

A Little Competition Never Hurt Anyone: Part 2

Here is the long awaited part 2! Now available on FF.net and AO3! Links below. Tags @echpr, @realsquidinc, @teresarosiadeviluke2112, @geminikessa, @astridflies, @driftingmoonlitpetals, @bee-wrecker, @iglowinggemma28, @drarryismylife101, @mikantsume, @diamondheart31, @iggy-of-fans, @runadaemon, @northernbluetongue, @kristycocopop, @czgamz, @mysticsoulgirl, @silvergold-swirl, @queenmj10, @asstheticmangos, @thesunstormsolo, @writingishfanonsideblog, @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie, @seraphichana, @bnha-fanfic-recs, @katieykat513, @whatarubberchicken, @princess-of-fangirls, @marichat00, @mmwolf1605, @urbanpineapplefarmer, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @adalouise1987, @winterfury-10, @celestialtitania, @vixen-uchiha, @certainmuffinbagelcalzone, @satans-favorite-homo, @jardimazul, @chronois, @marinette-is-a-badass, @the-no-one-in-the-corner, @jessigurl-design, @kittycatwowmeow, @himevampirechan, @livelifeauthorstyle, @hufflejournals, @melhuney, @xxvanilla-thundaxx, @thewondersoflebanon, @enduskgragon, @rumbelle18, @natasha-barton

FF.net (link)

Part 1 (link)

Edit: Now on AO3 (link)!

Part 2

The Stakes

Today was the day!

Today was possibly the most important day of her whole LIFE!

Her chance to get that much closer to achieving her dream of being hard-hitting investigative reporter.

The first round of preliminary presentations and interviews—her one shot of making an impression on the judges—and Alya Césaire was determined to nail it.

She had worked up until the deadline in order to get her entry as perfect as possible. It hadn’t been easy to get the necessary information from Lila without tipping anyone off about the competition—but! in the end, she did. It was one of the reasons why Alya was already such a good reporter at such a young age. She knew how and when to ask the right questions. Even if it meant telling a few teeny tiny little fibs to keep everyone in the dark. A little poke and prod here and there, a little white lie about wanting to do little exposés on the Ladyblog about everyday Ladybugs and Chat Noirs… and boom! Lila had been more than happy to send her all the links to news articles and organization pages that mentioned her… Which were a lot—Lila really was amazing! And the deeper Alya got invested in her contest entry the more it that just solidified in Alya’s mind that she was doing the right thing.

Sure, she still felt a little guilty having to sometimes skip out of hanging out with Marinette in order to hangout with Lila to conduct her secret interviews. But it was ok! The ends would more than justify the means.

Besides… a few little lies never hurt anyone anyways…

Countless hours had gone into writing, researching, re-writing, editing, more editing, and practicing her presentation and interview answers (ok she was not quite sure what the judges would be asking but it never hurt to have some responses ready to go on the fly). All leading up to this moment!

Standing in front of the Le Monde Parisian headquarters, dressed in her best power outfit, presentation in hand, and her parents right there beside her to cheer her on.

Her mother and father both had taken time off in order to be there for her and Nora had even volunteered to watch the twins so that their parents wouldn’t have to worry and all of their attention could be on Alya today.

They walked into the bright, sleek, and modern lobby of the new building and towards the receptionist desk. The lobby was busy that morning, there were other couples there as well, most likely the parents of the other contestants that had gotten that fateful phone call and scheduled to present today.

They made their way over to the receptionist’s desk.

“Excuse me,” Alya said, doing her best to sound professional. “I’m here for my presentation for La CompétitionOlmpe de Gouges.”

“Name?” The receptionist asked.

“Alya Césaire.”

The receptionist typed away at her computer. “Ah! Here we are.” She looked up and directed the family towards the grand staircase on the other side of the lobby. “Go up the stairs to the second floor and then down the first hallway on your right, there you will see a set of black doors, room 202.” Alya nodded, simple enough instructions. “From there only the contestants are allowed in. Parents and all other family members will have to wait here in the lobby.”

“Thank-you,” Alya smiled politely, her parents also giving a polite nod of appreciation to the woman before following behind their second eldest daughter.

As Alya made her way to her destination, her journalistic eye could not help but take in her surroundings and the various other adults that filtered through the lobby, all in many different types of dress as well, ranging from khakis to exquisitely tailored suits to exotic styles from all over the world. Marinette had often spoken about how fashion gave an insight into different professional environments and the type of people who worked there. Alya was starting to understand what her friend had meant.

But thinking about the different clothing she was seeing reminded her of Marinette—which also reminded her about the last time they had spoken…

It would be an understatement to say that they had not parted on the best of terms.

They had gotten into an argument over the fact that the baker’s daughter was stubbornly refusing to hangout anywhere near Lila and how the only way they could all hangout together was if they straight up lied to her.

Which was what Alya had resorted to in order to have all the girls hanging together as a big group for once. Instead of always having to choose between hanging out with Marinette or hanging out with Lila.

The Ladyblogger wasn’t proud of her methods—but what else was she supposed to do?! She was desperate! All she wanted was for all of her friends to get along and have a great day together; hanging out, enjoying all that Paris had to offer for those lucky enough to live within her borders, and making happy memories together to be cherished…

Why couldn’t Marinette understand that?! Why did the pig-tailed girl have to be so, so... pig-headed!

The resulting argument between the two lycée students had gotten pretty heated and some pretty hurtful things probably would have been said had it not been for an Akuma attacking near where they had agreed to meet up.

But the damage had still been done.

That had been well over a week ago and Marinette was not speaking to ANY of them. She wouldn’t pick up her phone, refused to answer their texts, and even went so far as to asking her parents not to let any of them see her at home. Not even Adrien could get through to her! Every time he had tried approaching her, the designer would ignore him or actively avoid him anyway she could… even if it meant climbing out of a second story window. It was clearly having an effect on the whole class. It felt as if there was a dark cloud in the classroom, as if all the good things in the world have suddenly been cut off. Poor Lila was taking it the hardest and all the girls were doing their best to reassure her that it was not her fault and to cheer her up as best as they could.

It was clear to everyone that Marinette’s attitude was the one in the wrong, but the girl STILL would not see reason and Alya could not understand why!

Why was Marinette acting thing way?!

Why couldn’t she stop being so petty and jealous about Lila and give her a chance?!

Why was she being so stubborn and unreasonable?!

That’s why this day was so important on a more personable level. It would finally be the cold hard, evidence backed, and internationally backed panel of journalistic judges proof that would finally, FINALLY! Get through Marinette’s jealousy and delusions and at last show her that she had been wrong about Lila all along.

Maybe then, things could finally go back to normal and there would not be such a chill in the air during class…

Before Alya could sink further into the negative memories of the past week, her parents pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the present.

They had followed the receptionist’s instructions and were now standing in front of a pair of sleek black double-doors with simple polished steel handles, with the number 202 engraved on a spotless steel plaque next to them.

This was it.

“Good luck ti panther mwen an!” Her father enveloped her in a warm hug. His face beaming with pride as he handed his second oldest off to his wife so that she could have a turn in hugging their daughter.

“We are so proud of you!” Marlena Césaire gave her daughter a once over to make sure she was presentable for the umpteenth time, her smile beaming with pride. “Now you go in there and knock ‘em dead.”

“I will manman.”

“And remember to look them straight in the eye. Show no fear!”

“Of course papa.”

“We’ll be waiting in the lobby ok.”

With one final bone-crushing hug, Alya walked through the doors and as they closed behind her she took a moment to get a quick scan and layout of the room. It was a smaller waiting area with a few comfy looking black leather couches and there were already three other students, who looked to be about her age, sitting on them. Even though they were her competition, Alya still wanted to introduce herself. Who knows? Maybe one of them could be a valuable future colleague.

She immediately recognized one of them and instantly gravitated towards them with a wide smile.

“Mireille! Hey!”

The other girl looked up from the folder her hands, looking a bit surprised to hear her name and then broke out into a friendly grin as well when she saw who had called out her name. “Hi Alya! I didn’t know you were entering this competition as well.”

Alya nodded as she took a seat next to the junior weathergirl. “Yeah, I kind of wanted this to be a surprise since I’m doing my presentation on someone I’m really close to.”

“Really? Who is it?”

“Someone who fit the prompt for the competition to a T.” Alya couldn’t keep the pride in her tone for her friend seeping through as she began to list off her reasoning. “They’re naturally kind and giving person that has already achieved so much, despite being our age. Someone who knows what it means to carry on despite obstacles and never stops thinking about others. Someone who is sure to be one of the Greats of the future without a doubt.”

Hearing the conviction in Alya’s small speech Mireille couldn’t help but be impressed at the other girl’s confidence. But then again, Mireille thought she had a pretty good idea about just whom the auburn haired girl was talking about, but decided to go along.

“Wow, and does this someone know that you entered a presentation about them…?”

“Nope!” Alya popped the p at the end for emphasis. She gave the other girl a mischievous grin and leaned in to stage whisper for added dramatics. “It’s all going to be a surprise.”

Mireille let out a little giggle at her schoolmate’s theatrics. Alya always did have a lot of spunk to her.

“Anyways, how long have you been waiting? What time is your appointment suppose to be at?” Alya wondered, adjusting herself a little sit a little bit more professionally.

“Oh! I already gave my presentation; I’m just waiting for a text from my dad letting me know he’s here to pick me up.” Mireille replied, holding up her phone.

“Really?!” Alya immediately fell into her default Ladyblogger mode. “How’d you think you did, what were the judges like, what did—“

Before Alya had a chance to finish her rapid-fire questions, or for the now slightly frazzled Mireille to get a chance to respond, a young, well dressed man in his twenties came into the room with a tablet and interrupted her.

“Alya Césaire?”

“Yes!” Alya replied.

He held the door at the opposite side of the room open for her. “Please come on in and begin setting up what ever you will need. The judges will be with you shortly.”

Alya quickly stood and clutched her notes and the USB drive her work was on tightly to her chest, her heart pounding with excitement and nervous energy. “Well this is it. I’ll see you later at school ‘kay. Wish me luck!” She smiled at Mireille as she left the couch to follow the man to the judging area.

“Good luck, Alya!” Mireille waved cheerfully which Alya returned before the door was closed behind her.

Shortly after, the short-haired lycée student got a notification letter her know her father was now waiting for her at the front. As, Mireille made her way down the stairs to the main lobby; she couldn’t help but think how great it was that Alya was choosing to do this report about her friend. But honestly, it did seem like a very good choice.

There really was only one person that Mireille could think of that fell into the category that the other reporter hopeful had described. It was sure to really impress the judges that Alya actually knew and was close to someone like that, and her presentation on them would no doubt be amazing.

After all…

Marinette Dupain-Cheng really was a miraculous person.

_______________________________________________________________________

And there it is!

If I didn’t tag you, I’m sorry about that, send me a message and I will be sure to tag you for the next update.

I realized when I started brainstorming the next segment of this story that the connection from the first part to the climax was… lacking… and it was driving me CRAZY! I could not for the life of me figure out why the climax was not coming to me at all, I know what was going to happen and how but none of it felt right. That’s when I realized that the crescendo to that moment of truth that everyone is waiting for was not there. Therefore this story went from a two-shot story to a 3-4 part story.

So now we have the proper set up. Alya has submitted her work and is about to face the judges. Gee! I wonder what will happen...?

Let me know what you all think. Also this story is now on FF.net, so if you guys want go ahead and check out this story there so you can leave your reviews and comments. Till next time!

496 notes · View notes

coza-main · 3 years

Text

The Turning Point

Words: 2,578

Warnings: Slight angst, other than that none

Summary: The princess and Link get lost in a white-out blizzard, only to find shelter in a cave. Can Link use this time to prove that he is not her enemy, or will he only push her further away?

---

Link should’ve spoken up when he had the chance. He had known their party wouldn’t make it back to Rito Village before the storm hit, even with the shortcut. They had been out in the wilderness conducting research for days and everyone was eager to get back to the village, so they chose to ignore the warning signs. He wanted to speak up, tell the others that they should make camp and wait until the snow stopped falling, but he hadn’t been able to find his voice at the time. And now they were all paying for his weakness.

He was alone with the princess, silently working on starting a fire while she sat close by. Link didn’t need to look at her to know how bleak their situation was. She was practically folded in on herself, shivering from the cold. They had been lost in the white-out blizzard for at least an hour before finding the cave they were in now. His hands couldn’t seem to strike the flint correctly to start the spark. If he couldn't start a fire soon, they would definitely be dead by morning. Hypothermia would set in and they would both freeze to death before anyone could come find th-

“Could I try?”. The princess’s hoarse voice startled Link out of his thoughts. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had gotten inside the cave, though that wasn’t unusual. She only spoke directly to him when she absolutely had to, and never in a very friendly manner. He silently handed over the flint, which she took with a bleak smile. After 3 strikes, there were soft embers glowing in at the bottom of their small wood pile.

Link quickly got close to fan the embers, and soon the flames sprung up, casting shadows along the icy cave walls. Both of them moved closer to the fire, relishing in the heat they hadn’t had for so long. The silence between them was deafening, only broken up by the soft crackles of the wood being burned away.

---

By the time he was warm enough to move, the princess had fallen asleep. Link pulled out a small pot and began to walk towards the entrance of the cave. The princess may have dozed off, but they were going to need food soon. He collected snow and set the pot over the fire, continuing to add more snow as it continued to melt over the flames until the pot was full.

Once he finished, Link grabbed his sword and ventured outside once again. The visibility was still nonexistent, but he needed to find more wood or they wouldn't outlive the blizzard. He ran his gloved hand along the outside wall of the cave and stuck his sword arm out in the other direction. Walking blindly, he relied solely on his other senses, counting each step he took away from the cave entrance. If he was lucky, there would be a tree close to the cave and he wouldn’t have to venture far.

Link only had to walk a few meters before he felt something hit his sword. Hylia seemed to be smiling upon him, even after all she had put him through today. It was almost as if the goddess herself was calling his name in the wind gusts, giving him the strength he thought had been depleted. He wasn’t entirely sure how well a sword would hold up in place of an ax, but he managed to get a decent amount of firewood before heading back into the safety of the cave.

---

As Link regained his sight back in the cave, he noticed two things: the princess was awake, and she seemed to be crying. He instinctively dropped the wood he collected to rush to her side, startling her in the process. As she caught sight of him, grief quickly changed into relief, and then to anger, which managed to stop him dead in his tracks. Her emotions were always so easy to read, it was one of his favorite things about her. Hylia, he wished that he could wear his emotions as clearly as she wore hers.

“Where have you been?!?” She shouted, wiping angrily at her tear-filled eyes. Her voice rang through the icy cave. “I woke up and you were gone! What kind of knight leaves the person they’re supposed to be guarding without any sort of notice? What was so important that you couldn’t wait until I woke up?”

Dumbfounded by her outburst, Link simply looked down at the firewood he had collected. He wanted to apologize for scaring her, for leaving her alone, but apparently she wasn’t done.

“Firewood? You left me alone for firewood?” She had risen from her spot and was now marching towards him. “What if there had been a bear or something in here? I was vulnerable sleeping! You could have at least woken me up and told me where you were going!” Now that she was closer, Link saw that the princesses’ face wasn’t contorted in anger. She was scared. Her voice was quieter the next time she spoke. “I was calling for you. I thought you left me.”

Link’s heart ached. He knew the trials and adversity the princess had overcome. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her. But he didn’t know how to. The words wouldn’t come to him. The princess stared at him for a few seconds, and then bent down to gather up the rest of the firewood.

---

They didn’t have much. The carrots, Hyrule herbs, a few chillshrooms, and some bits of dried meat from Link’s pack were all thrown into the pot to boil into a soup. Link silently poured out the soup into two bowls, and handed one to Zelda. It wasn’t much, but it was edible, and left them both feeling rather warm inside. The cold air seemed to be a little less frigid once they were finished.

“I would never leave you.” Link said softly as he packed up the equipment. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, but he was feeling extra courageous. They had survived the day. She needed to know he was someone she could count on. But still, his cheeks were burning, and the princesses’ silence wasn’t helping. Once everything was packed up, he finally had summoned the courage to look at her again.

Wide, green eyes were focused on him, her mouth slightly agape. Was she in shock? Had he really said something so out of place that it warranted that reaction? What more did she want, an apology? It was better to be safe than sorry. “Your Highness, I’m-”

“That’s the first time you’ve spoken to me.” She blurted out over him. Link could feel his cheeks warming again, and was thankful for the cold to blame. “That’s the first time ever.”

Link shook his head. There was no way that she was right in that statement. He didn’t speak often, but he still had a voice that he used when it was warranted. “I’ve definitely spoken around you before, princess.”

Zelda laughed dryly. “You’ve spoken around me before-rarely, I might add-but you’ve never spoken to me. Not directly, at least.”

Link found himself dumbfounded once again. He had always assumed the princess didn’t want to talk to him, so he never made an effort. She was intimidating, and was one of the few people he didn’t want to be on the bad side of. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Was he supposed to apologize? Ask for forgiveness? Was it even a big deal that he had never spoken to her before? Knights don't speak to princesses unless they were explicitly told to. The fact that he was the chosen hero and her personal guard didn’t change his status as a knight, did it?

“Do you have a torch? I want to look around.” She was scanning the walls covered in ice. The cavern looked like it had been untouched for centuries, there was no trace of animals or Hylians inside. He could tell she was anticipating him to shoot her down. “We won’t go far, I just want to see a little further back.”

Link located the torch he had in his pack and lit it from the flames, before doing it again with another torch and handing it off. They walked in silence, with Link listening for any sign of life, the princess looking for anything interesting.

---

Link was the first to break the silence, more out of curiosity than awkwardness. “Your Highness, what exactly are you looking for?”

“It’s a long shot, but I read some research a few months ago about these rumored skeletons. They’re supposed to be as big as houses, Link! The research itself was from years ago, but I was hoping to find the skeletons. One is supposed to be in the Hebra mountains, far from civilization. They called it a leviathan in their research, but I wonder what the actual name was?” The princess continued to ramble on about the possibilities and ramifications of a creature of that caliber existing. Link listened to her endearingly, smiling to himself. She always got off on some kind of tangent whenever scientific theories were involved. Her voice bounced off the walls, creating its own symphony with her as the star. Link was so distracted by the music it took him a few seconds to realize the princess had stopped talking.

His eyes found her quickly. “You probably think I’m a disgrace. I have yet to awaken my sealing power and I’m in the Hebra Mountains looking for a skeleton for fun. I-”

“I don’t think you’re a disgrace,” Link interrupted. The princess whipped around and stared at him as he quickly continued. “You’ve tried your hardest up until this point, and there’s not much more we can do until you turn 17 and we can go to the Spring of Wisdom. It’s not that the sealing power isn’t manifesting because you aren’t trying hard enough. Also, you’re allowed to enjoy things in life, princess, even if it is searching for a skeleton that might not exist.”

The princess looked like she wanted to say something, but Link rushed on. “Besides, I know you’ve been praying to Hylia every morning and night that we’ve been on this expedition. Even when you’re supposed to be taking a break, you don’t. I admire your determination and willpower more than you know.”

Now that he was done talking, Link felt as if he had overstepped his boundaries. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting all of that out. All of his feelings and emotions were bubbling to the surface now that they were alone and being vulnerable with each other. He needed her to know that her effort wasn’t going unnoticed or unappreciated. He needed her to know that she was important to somebody.

The princess was unusually quiet for a while after that. Link wanted to say more, but he also wanted to give her space. He had overstepped once, it wasn’t wise to do it a second time in such a short time span. He followed behind her silently, searching the cavern for anything interesting that might catch the attention of the princess while listening for any movement beyond the two of them.

“Link-” the princess gasped, and Link drew his sword as he turned back towards her. She was frozen, holding her torch up as far as she could. He could see a faint outline of bone illuminated by the torch light. “It’s here. It’s actually here!”

Seeing that she was in no danger, Link sheathed his sword and walked towards the skeleton himself. Without a word, he stood near her to allow her visibility range to widen as much as possible. With both of their torches, they could just see the top of the skeleton. She hadn’t been lying, the leviathan was easily twice as big as his family home in Hateno.

“I can’t believe we found it. We found it, Link!” The princesses’ eyes shone and her smile widened. It has been a long time since that smile, her genuine smile, came to light. Link had forgotten how contagious it was, and found a smile dancing across his lips as he watched her.

It was like watching a child on the playground. She ran from bone to bone, using her arms to measure the width of each one. For the ones she couldn’t wrap her arms around completely, she had Link assist her. She measured each one, accompanied with pictures of every angle with the Sheikah Slate. She finally got to the back of the beast, and stared up at it. It was clear she wanted to try to climb to the top, but had no way of knowing where to start.

“Do you want to try to climb it, princess?” Link asked, Believing he already knew the answer. He started scaling the bones before the princess even answered his question.

“Link!” She cried desperately. “Be careful! They might break.”

He hadn’t thought of that. He quickly climbed back down. “Sorry, Your Highness,” he mumbled, fully embarrassed. “I didn’t think about that.”

The laugh that escaped her lips was light and teasing. “You never think,” she said in between breaths. She was wiping at her eyes again, tears of joy instead of sorrow. “That’s why we’re down here exploring this creepy cave and not sitting by the fire. That’s why we found the leviathan.”

The princess waited a while before speaking again.

“We probably should go back now,” she admitted.

“Probably.”

---

Back at the fire, their adrenaline wearing off, the princess and her knight seemed to realize how tired they both had become.

“You need sleep, princess.” It wasn’t a request. Link wanted her to rest after the long day they had.

“You need sleep too, sir knight.” Her tone mocked him, and he wondered if he had done something to offend her. “You can call me Zelda, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Zelda.” Her name felt good on his lips. It sounded sweet to her ears.

“We should both sleep,” Zelda said. “Nothing is going to bother us in this cave. I’m sure Hylia will protect her chosen ones if there is.” She sounded sarcastic and bitter, but Link wasn’t sure if he was misinterpreting her tone.

They both laid down next to the fire, their heads near one another. Link stared at the flames, entrancing him dangerously close to sleep.

“You know, if you can find a mythical leviathan that isn’t supposed to exist, I think you’ll be able to conquer your sealing power as well.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She didn’t need to say anything further, they both knew what she was thinking.

“You deserve to have someone on your side, Zelda.” And he was on her side, wholeheartedly. With that, they both fell asleep quickly, unsure of what the next day would bring.

By the next day, the winds had shifted. The sun was out, and they could continue their journey to Rito Village. As they walked out of the mouth of the cave, Zelda turned back to it. “Goodbye, cave.” Link noticed that she almost sounded disappointed to leave it behind. With a sigh, she turned back to him and they set out to Rito Village once again.

One hundred years later, the cave felt so much colder without her next to him.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #zelda #link #zelink #i guess?? not really theyre just bonding #matchamago original

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, brief hint of prostitution.

wc; 10.2k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It turns out that you’ve worked yourself to the bone all these years. Day after day, you woke at seven, left at eight, and stayed in the betting room until late evening into the early morning. You didn’t realize just how taxing it was until now. For the first time in a long time, you’ve gotten more than just a couple of hours of sleep. You slept into noon.

This must be how Finnick felt for those years. He could, more or less, go to bed when he wants and wake well into the afternoon. And although the whole day isn’t up to your interpretation, you’ve had your fair share of evenings with friends. To think that he used to live like this every day, while you were busy worrying over tributes, or pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion is unfair.

And for a moment, you can allow yourself to be upset at him and yourself for letting it go on for so long. Finnick’s time in the Capitol is far from fun and perfect, but you still hate how he wasn’t required to do all the same things you are. That he didn’t put in as much effort as you have. Even if you two weren’t talking…

You count to three and let it go.

You think you can stop being mad about this now. To you, it looks like things have changed. Of course, you can keep your guard, but you can stop talking about it. You already know all the shitty things that he’s done, he knows it too. With that acknowledgement, you can save the thoughts for a rainy day.

You get out of bed at noon, dragging your feet around the room. It’s funny how you’ve kept that wake, eat, watch, sleep schedule for this long, and it was so easily broken. You thought that you’d have to fight with yourself to sleep in past seven, considering that some habits are hard to break. Yet here you are, sluggish. You suppose that more sleep doesn’t automatically mean being more energetic.

Not trying to be too slow, you only take a ten minute shower instead of your normal thirty. Finnick’s been in the betting room since midnight last night, it’s going to be a full thirteen hours by the time you go to switch with him. He’s running on fumes, he hasn’t slept in a day, if you remember correctly. The sooner you get down there, the better.

Not to mention, like nights, the mornings are extremely boring. As you’ve observed for the last couple of days--and years--the tributes are up to nothing. In the morning, they’re either still sleeping or getting ready to spend their day doing mundane shit. At nights, the careers might go hunting for obvious tributes, or they’re all going to bed.

On one hand, you think that this is good for Finnick. Like you’ve said before, he’s not as practiced during chaotic situations inside of the betting room anyway. The last time he saw anything remotely close to that was maybe yesterday, when you were going around talking to Capitol people. But that wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

You’re talking about the times where you’ve been in full-blown mentor mode. Quick on your feet, even faster problem solving, a silver tongue that easily has mentors falling on your feet. The only times you’re like that is when there’s an unpredictable fight that includes your tributes. You’re here for damage control, so anything that your tributes do inside of the arena, you’re going to be there to try and clean up what they can’t. Whether that be injuries, them losing all of their stuff, sponsoring weapons in the midst of a fight, whatever.

But on the other hand, he’s just out of practice. If he took afternoons instead of you--fat fucking chance--he would be able to go right back to how he was before. It’s like flexing a muscle, all your instincts are still there, you just have to relearn a few moves to make the whole job easier.

And you’re all about easy.

You go for black skinny jeans and a yellow-orange shirt with a breast pocket, and then slip on a pair of tennis shoes. As always, you’re the only one in the dining room, so you’re free to watch the television as you eat lunch. The avox serves plum and lamb soup, with a side of jasmine rice to make it more filling. You thank him quietly, already distracted by what’s going on the screen.

Without any context, you slowly put the pieces together by yourself. Starting with your tributes, Annie and Marsh are already off near the snares. They’re currently having lunch too, eating the sponsored food that you gave them yesterday. The gamemakers are allowing you to hear their conversation for the first time in days.

The gist is that Annie wants to go up to the dam. Like, follow the stream of water to the top and inspect the dam for herself. The condition of the cement will hopefully determine when they should leave the shack and head towards the village. But they’re working through one step at a time. Getting to the village is a whole new problem, as far as she’s concerned. Marsh agrees.

The Seven tributes are at the stream getting water, with the boy cupping his hands and bringing water to his lips that way. They’ve still got no supplies from the cornucopia, looking pretty dirty from sleeping in leaves and dirt for the past couple of days. They still look healthy though, so that’s a good sign. They’re getting all the nutrients that they need, to a certain extent.

Five boy is still on the edge of the woods off to the left, far away from the rest of the tributes. He’s not as close to the treeline as he was yesterday. If he keeps there for a while, you’re sure that he’ll surely be overlooked and hard to find like Nine girl. Who, speaking of which, is actually on the move today, instead of just sticking around in the grass and bushes.

She’s got her hair tied out of her face, any loose strands are tucked behind her ears if it can reach. She’s walking through the grass, heading towards the cornucopia. You think it’s a stupid idea, that surely she’s going to get herself killed for being so calm about walking straight into a wild pack of careers.

Until you look to see where the careers are this morning, and find that they’re inside of the woods. The cornucopia is completely vacant, all their supplies are there for a tribute’s taking. Nine girl saw this and decided to take a chance and grab what she can. Which means that she’s been camping out in the grassy hills the entire time, or she was in the trees after all. Either way, she’s kept a pretty low profile since the beginning. This is going to give her a new spotlight to work with.

She heads right inside without hesitation, not even waiting to hear if there’s any voices. Yeah, she’s definitely been keeping track of the tributes in the sky, and even going as far as to watch the cornucopia in her freetime. Especially if she’s so forward and confident. Considering she’s spent the last couple of days cloud gazing, this is fairly impressive.

She grabs a backpack, vaguely going through boxes and only stopping long enough to grab handfuls of items. She moves on quickly, eyes sometimes flickering to the mouth of the cornucopia. At least she’s not stupid enough to entirely rely on what she saw a couple of minutes ago. She knows that going inside is completely risky.

By judging what you can see with the careers, she has nothing to worry about in the end. The careers are far into the woods, and they’re only getting farther. In fact, the only tributes you think that have to worry about what they’re doing is the Seven tributes. In your opinion, they could be moving a little quicker.

If the careers do run across District Seven, this’ll be the first real conflict since the bloodbath. Of course, Sanguin killing Three boy yesterday was an event, but he didn’t really stand a chance against her in the first place. That was banking on false hope. With the Seven tributes, they might not have weapons, but they’re also two people. Just like Annie and Marsh. They have a chance, you always have a chance with bigger numbers. Where one person fails, another will prevail.

Nine girl grabs a knife on her way out of the cornucopia, officially heading towards the woods. She should’ve just went straight towards the village, that way she wouldn’t have the chance of running across the other nine people that are currently in the forest. This is all dependent on her goals, you suppose, but no one willingly tries to pick a fight unless they’re a career. It’s just the truth.

The last tribute that you haven’t mentioned is Bauhinia, Cecelia’s girl. Bauhinia already has a backpack of her own, courtesy of the raid she had conducted on the cornucopia by herself on the second day of the games. She’s got a bottle full of water, so that means she’s found her own source by now.

Actually, she’s been up against the dam for the past couple of days. Which means that the dam is leaking from some area, otherwise she wouldn’t have the water up that high. Not without a second stream, and from all the time you’ve spent watching the tributes, she hasn’t been to the original water stream.

Well, the dam is certainly more dangerous than you originally anticipated. It’s only the fifth day of the games and it’s already leaking water. You give it a couple more days until the entire thing blows. You keep saying a week and a half, you’re not sure it’ll even last the half part. The gamemakers are impatient this year. Or maybe they have no control of it. Either way, everyone is going to be going home sooner than usual.

With the hopeful exception of District Four, of course.

At any rate, Bauhinia is moving through the trees too. She has a knife in hand, which means that she’s looking for something or someone in particular. You’d say she’s just hunting, but there’s an edge to her steps. You bet that Cecelia is on the edge of her seat right now. Her only tribute is up to no good.

You finish up lunch, go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and leave the apartment. On your way down to the betting room, you hope that whatever Bauhinia is planning, she’s not going to act on it just yet. She needs to wait a little longer. If something does happen, Cecelia’s going to need a shoulder to lean on.

When you enter, you see that Finnick sits on the couch, elbow on the arm, leaning against his fist. Gloss and Enobaria are with him, with Gloss leaned forward onto his knees and Enobaria with her arms crossed. The only person that seems to be standing in your bizarre group, is Cecelia. Who’s swaying from side to side, hand on her mouth.

Looks like they’re all just as captivated as you were when you were watching. You check up on the Morning Line Odds, which might as well be known as the Afternoon Line Odds, with the times you’ll be showing up from now on. Annie and Marsh still hold their odds at 6-1, they haven’t moved since the first day, that's just fine with you. As long as they don’t drop lower, they’ve still got the interest of the Capitol.

As for the only group that actually poses a meaningful threat, Sanguine has moved up. From a 4-1 to a 3-1, she’s now tied with the boy from Two. You’re not surprised, it was only a matter of time before she went up—before any of them moved, actually. It’s worrying, though. No matter how many times you’ve seen it before.

You stop next to Finnick, staring up at the screen. In the time it took you to brush your teeth and get down here, things have changed. The gamemakers have focused on Bauhinia and the careers, so it explains why everyone—with the exception of Finnick, who sounds like he’s sleeping—is on edge. Doesn’t mean you have any clue what's going on.

You take a moment to analyze what you see. Bauhinia still has her knife in hand, moving through the trees. It looks like she’s trying to be quiet, carefully placing her feet in spots that shouldn’t be possible. All to just narrowly avoid a stick that might give her away. Give her away…

The careers are also going through the woods, but their camera is angled weird. Instead of watching them from the front, so that you can see their faces. Or from the back, allowing you to see where they’re going exactly. It’s at a diagonal, barely catching One girl, who’s leading the pack through the woods. The main is One boy, who’s in the middle, but even he’s a little blurred.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh!” You let out, causing your friends to jump at the sudden voice. They’ve been quiet for so long, you just snuck up on them, “Is Bauhinia stalking?”

Stalking, a term mentors use when one tribute is following another. Normally because the stalker has ill intentions, or they’re observing for future reference. It’s like when the Seven tributes followed the careers all the way to the stream of water and didn’t attack. Observing.

But Bauhinia isn’t observing. She’s got a knife in her hands, she’s making an extra effort to be closer, to hear their conversations. She’s moving right along with them, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Bauhinia isn’t stupid enough to attack all three of them, she’s waiting for an opportunity to pick one off.

You wonder what got her to think like this, to suddenly get up and decide that she wanted to risk her life. She isn’t specially trained in any way regarding fighting, Cecelia said it herself. And if you remember correctly, she only scored a six. The Morning Line Odds say that she has a 14-1 chance. She’s going to get herself killed.

“Yeah, she has been for a while now. She only just got closer.” Gloss says, looking over you, and then his eyes land on Finnick, “He’s been out cold since nine.”

Well, you more or less called it, even before you got down here. She looked slightly more relaxed the last time you saw her, but now she has to be more careful with how she’s putting herself in danger like this. One bad move can be the cost of her life, unlike before when she had a little bit of breathing room. She must’ve been loosely following.

As for Finnick, you’re not at all surprised. You gently place your hand on his back, rubbing slightly to wake him up. It takes a moment, reminding you of the last time you woke him up like this. He doesn’t stretch this time around, mostly makes a noise and raises his head.

“What time is it?” He yawns, and sinks into the couch, “Is she here yet?”

“A little after one.” You answer.

Finnick looks up at you, and lets out a sigh of relief. He must be exhausted, probably won’t even last a minute on his bed before he’s knocked out. You give him a smile, pat his shoulder, and take a seat between him and Gloss. There’s not much room, but you can imagine that Finnick won’t be staying here much longer.

“Annie and Marsh are doing fine.” Finnick yawns again, crossing his arms and staring at the tv, “The last time I checked, anyway. Which was…”

Enobaria lets out a laugh. Gloss snorts and finishes his sentence; “Five hours ago.”

Finnick vaguely motions to Gloss. “What’s happening now?”

“Flower girl is looking for trouble.” Enobaria says, “She’s like, ten feet from them at max.”

Finnick squints, humming slightly, “I’d head up but I have a feeling I should stay down here.”

“Probably.” You agree, “You can use my shoulder as a pillow if you want.”

Without missing a beat, he takes you up on your offer. He places his head on your shoulder, and only lifts it once to readjust. You smile a little to yourself, but it quickly fades when the betting room is suddenly filled with unfamiliar voices coming from the speakers.

Two girl--Vanilee--has a kama in her hand, which is surely a unique choice of a weapon. It’s not chosen often, mostly because of its range. Think of a scythe, with the curved blade and all, just with a shorter handle. It’s much better for hand-to-hand combat, you think. It’s not going to be much use for long distances, unless you were to throw it. Then again, you’re no expert. You don’t even remember seeing that in your cornucopia.

The sixty-fifth Hunger Games had all the classic weapons. Spears, tridents, bows, axes, swords, scythes and knives. You chose a knife and a sword, obviously. As most careers do, since they’re the easiest things to figure out. The only problem is trying to find a sword that isn’t too heavy, a knife with a blade that isn’t too short, bullshit like that.

Anyway, Vanilee is stopped, eyes searching the woods around her. Bauhinia is perfectly hidden behind bushes, not only crouched but also blending in. It’s understandable why the careers haven’t seen her by now, even with their experienced eyes. At least they caught on that the air was weird or whatever, but you can’t give them that much credit in the end, especially if Bauhinia has been following them for a while now.

Yeah, for a bunch of people that have been practically trained to think a certain way and catch onto situations, they’re not very in-tune with their sixth senses. Literally, even a hint of a gut feeling and you’re going to be searching around. Hell, you even did that yourself! The pond on the first day is the perfect example of this.

“What is it?” Sanguin asks, impatient.

“I swear that there’s someone following us.” Vanilee says, moving her hair behind her neck.

“Like who?” her district mate, Geare, asks.

Vanilee shrugs, not giving it up. She ventures out a little bit, squinting and searching. She won’t find anything, you’re sure of it. With the way that Bauhinia has placed herself, she’s in the best position she can be in. Except for the part where one career has caught on to her stalking. That’s the only bad news. Where one will go, the others will eventually follow.

“She’s just paranoid.” Sanguin says, stabbing her sword into the ground and leaning on it like a cane, “I think I would know if we were being followed.”

Vanilee’s eyes land on Sanguin, “Okay, genius. Don’t you think that it’s weird we haven’t run into any tributes yet?” she raises her eyebrows, shakes her head like she’s waiting for an answer, neither Geare or Sanguin says anything, “That’s what I thought. Maybe my paranoia will do something for us.”

Sanguin sighs, eyes rolling into the back of her head like a teenage girl. She runs a hand through her hair, and then slaps her thigh when she lets it fall, “Fine, let’s take a break. Whoever it is will have to move at some point. We’ll hear or see them, problem solved.”

Hypothetically, yes. But you watch as Bauhinia slowly sinks herself to the ground, crossing her legs. She’s lucky that her backpack doesn’t make any noise, otherwise she definitely would’ve been found by now. For a while, the careers all sit there, drinking water and eating a small portion of food to keep them going. So far, their hunt for other tributes has been a bust. What a surprise.

However, Vanilee signs her own death certificate when she says that she’s going off to pee. She’s told to stay nearby in the case that someone is around them. Sanguin even offers to go with her, it just leaves Geare by himself, though. It still leaves a problem, two of them can go one way, the other can stay back, or Vanilee can just go by herself. In the end, one person will get picked off.

The moment that Vanilee heads off, Bauhinia slowly and carefully begins to follow her. Cecelia has finally taken a seat on the edge of an armchair, fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips. Enobaria is shaking her head, upset that Vanilee can’t just pee in front of her alliance. It’s a stupid situation. And it’s almost rightful what Vanilee gets for it.

The good news is that Vanilee isn’t stupid enough to get out of earshot. If she were to scream, the others would hear. It would take them a moment to get to her, but at least they’re close enough if the situation were to arise. The bad news is that it doesn’t matter, not with the way that Bauhinia springs on Vanilee.

Really, Bauhinia doesn’t fuck around. She wraps her arm around Vanilee’s neck in an armlock, and then uses her other hand to tighten the hold. She has the same face of determination that everyone else gets when they’re trying to kill and survive in the Hunger Games.

Vanilee digs her nails into Bauhinia’s tan skin, hard enough to draw blood. This is the reason why Bauhinia lets go, clutching the spot. She lands a kick to Vanilee’s back, making her trip and go sprawling in the dirt and grass. Vanilee opens her mouth, drawing in a long breath of air, clearly going to scream.

Bauhinia’s on top of her, disregarding the blood running down her forearm. A squeak leaves Vanilee’s lips, just before Bauhinia’s fingers are tight around her neck, squeezing hard. Vanilee’s eyes widen, face quickly turning a shade of red as she struggles to breathe. First her fingers try to wriggle their way beneath Bauhinia’s hands, but then they settle for scratching down her neck and face, trying to inflict enough pain to get Bauhinia to get off.

It’s hard to watch, you can feel the pressure on your own stomach and hips, hands growing harder and tighter around your neck as you give up. As you slowly stop coming up with solutions to get out of the hold, as you forget the one way the training expert told you to leave a situation like this.

You reach for your throat, rubbing the spot where Lennox was sure he’d be able to cut off your air supply. You swallow thickly, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

You get a confused glance from Gloss, and Finnick hums quietly.

It’s the sensation of being trapped, not being able to escape. This happens all the time, especially with people hovering over you, even if it’s a joke. If you can’t have an easy escape, then it’s a cause for trouble. Even watching people not be able to leave, especially in a situation like this--

You take a deep breath through your nose, and hold.

Vanilee is turning blue, still fighting to escape. Bauhinia’s got red scratch marks all over her, some even bleeding slightly, blood running down her skin. She’s patient, and doesn’t at all seem to be concerned about the other careers. Not even worried that they might come looking for her if she doesn’t make it back soon.

You let out your air slowly, feeling nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Finnick asks.

“Still not over it.” is all you say, Finnick lifts his head up. You glance over to see that his eyes are open now, staring at the screen.

“Yeah, I can see why. Look away, I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

“Thanks.” you breathe, placing your head on the couch, staring at the sky. Well, the sky through the glass ceiling. There’s no way that the architects would ever let a place like this fall victim to something so heinous like rain.

“You went through something like this?” Gloss asks.

“Something similar.” Finnick says, he lets out a sigh, “And then got stabbed right after. To be fair, she was beat to hell in that fight. It was hardly fair.”

“But she got revenge, if I remember right.” Enobaria says, “(Y/n) single handedly killed three out of four of the career tributes.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t even count one of them, that was mostly mutts.” you say.

“It counts. I remember it counting.” Enobaria says.

It’s quiet for a moment, “Okay, it should be done.”

Right on time for you to look at the screen, a cannon blasts. Bauhinia releases Vanilee, stretching her fingers outwards, staring at her hands for a moment, like she can’t believe she’s done it. The moment that Vanilee’s name is yelled, Bauhinia is up and off of her, sprinting up towards the dam. It’s not very smart of her, she should be going downhill, or at least running the way she came for a while to put distance between her and the others, and then move downward diagonally.

Finnick goes back to putting his head on your shoulder. Enobaria has her jaw set, shaking her head. You can’t blame her, Vanilee was a trained volunteer. She got a nine on her training score, while Bauhinia landed herself a six, if you remember correctly. Even Vanilee had the feeling that there was something wrong, and she still went out by herself.

Two careers left in the game, though. It’s satisfying to see a second name greyed out on the Morning Line Odds. One less career for Annie and Marsh to worry about. If they were to go out and try and attack them now, you’re sure that it would be more than a fair fight. The only threat left is One girl. Sanguin.

Speaking of which, she’s running up towards where Vanilee lies in the dirt, red-purple hand marks bright around her neck. Geare is right behind her, weapon already displayed. At the pace that Bauhinia is going at the moment, you don’t think that he’ll have the chance to use it. But then again, the careers always bounce back in some unpredictable way.

Sanguin is quick, leaving Geare completely behind her, “Vanilee?” she yells.

She’s more or less making the same mistake that got Vanilee killed by leaving Geare behind her. Although, you all know that she can take care of herself in a fight. In fact, unlike Vanilee, Sanguin probably would’ve found a way to get out from underneath Bauhinia. Whether it be from the same way you did it, through momentum. Or some other unique tactic.

You’re not saying that Vanilee didn’t try, she definitely did. The marks up and down Bauhinia’s face and arms says so. The problem was that it wasn’t enough. But to be fair, there’s not much you can do in a situation like that in the first place. She was underprepared, caught off-guard without the opportunity to catch her breath and evaluate the situation before Bauhinia was back on her.

However, Bauhinia’s quick movement saved her. Just before Vanilee went to scream, Bauhinia cut off her vocals to make it impossible. And it’s not like she could’ve done much to stop the scratching, she needed both hands and all of her weight to put pressure on Vanilee’s neck.

Anyway, you think you’ll stop now. You’re beginning to struggle again.

All that matters is that it’s one less career in the arena, one more rung up the ladder. Gloss and Enobaria both have one tribute left before they’re sent home, which is actually pretty good news. It’s only been five years, but that’s ten tributes dead from District Four. Annie and Marsh can turn the tide, create a new era for Four in this decade.

Gloss is sat back now too, his hands resting on his thighs. Cecelia is digging her thumb nail into her other palm, clearly worried over Bauhinia. The clock is ticking down for Bauhinia, she got a headstart away from the remaining two careers, but now she’s started a real hunt for herself. The careers will either give up, or work themselves to the bone for revenge. And they never let anyone off easy.

Sanguin slows down when she sees a body, she doesn’t stop until she’s standing over Vanilee. Her sword was originally raised, now it’s tip-down into the grass. She sighs heavily, “Motherfucker.”

Geare appears behind her a couple of seconds later, paling immensely when he sees what used to be his district mate. He freezes in place, Sanguin shakes her head, points the tip of the sword at Vanilee’s throat, “She was strangled.” and then looks up to the woods around her, “Whoever did it has to be nearby.”

“Not if they ran.” Geare manages.

“Then we fucking chase them.”

Gloss breaks the silence between you guys, “Sanguin is an excellent tracker. All she has to do is find Bauhinia’s trail.”

Spells for even more trouble, more than just for Bauhinia. Annie and Marsh have been walking the same path everyday for five days. By now, they’ve stomped their schedule into the grass and dirt. If the careers were to just barely run across their shack, all they’d have to do is follow your tributes’ path to their snares. After that, their field of snares is gone for.

You let out a breath, running a hand through your hair before sinking a bit.

“The careers won’t wander upstream.” Finnick murmurs.

“They will if Bauhinia leads them up.” you whisper back, “You think that they’ll head back down?”

“If they’re smart they’ll leave the woods after they find her.”

“Fat chance, the careers are hound dogs. They caught the scent of one tribute, they’re going to be bloodthirsty for more.” you close your eyes, “I think it’s time for another sponsor gift.”

“The gamemakers will get suspicious. You’ve said so yourself a long ass time ago.”

He’s right. Annie and Marsh aren’t hurt or starving, sending another gift out of the blue would turn heads. Either you start hoping that one of them gets injured badly enough to need something other than healing cream, or you just have to let fate have her way with the arena. Which is hard to do, considering all the other times she’s screwed you over.

“This is their games.” Finnick reminds you, “Not ours. We’re in no control here.”

“I just want to help.” you say.

“I know. We just have to wait.”

Even though Gloss didn’t directly predict it, Sanguin goes around looking for a path to follow and finds the way that Bauhinia had run, “Grab her kama, let’s go.” she says, and then starts walking down the path.

Geare lets out a shaky breath at first, uttering out an apology. He takes the weapon and heads off after his only ally. It’s only slightly funny how Vanilee was the one acting a buffer between them, and now they’re having to work together. They start off walking, but end up jogging the longer they go on.

“I will not lose them.” Sanguin snarls.

Bauhinia isn’t running anymore, there’s sweat running down her face, she wipes her forehead to get the sweat from going into her eyes, and ends up smearing blood. She’s near the top of the hill, you can see the dam through the trees. She’s going to corner herself, there’s no doubt about it.

If she’s not careful, you think she could actually end up running the careers straight into the Seven tributes. It’s unlikely, you think. But if she runs along the dam, maybe a little downwards, it’ll bring her to their huts. They’re not at them right now, you don’t think. They do have to come back eventually, though.

Bauhinia huffs, sucks in air through her nose heavily. She winces when she stretches the skin in her neck and face, gently pressing her hand to the marks as if it’ll magically relieve the pain. She closes her eyes, takes another deep breath, and then takes off running again, not heading uphill, off to the right side.

Oh, that’s not good.

“She’s going to lead them to Annie and Marsh.”

“You don’t know that.” Finnick says, but he’s lifted his head.

“She leads them to the stream, all they’d have to do is head half a mile down and they’re at the shack. They take up home there, and District Four is fucked.”

“She’s bringing them into uncharted territory. The careers are going to be more apprehensive--”

And all at once, you, Gloss and Enobaria answer the same way; “No, they’re not.”

On any other day, the unison would be funny. But Enobaria just lost a tribute, Gloss is worried about Sanguin heading in recklessly without thinking first, and Cecelia might lose her second tribute. The stakes have definitely risen today.

The chase continues for hours. You watch as people come and go out of the betting room, all wary about leaving when something so important is happening. None of you move from the couch area, except to stretch your legs if they fall asleep. Finnick dozes on and off, waking on his own every now and then.

Bauhinia is running them in circles at this point, zig-zagging. She ran towards the stream for a little while before heading straight down the hill, then decided that was an easy way to catch her, so she took a sharp right to head back to where she killed Vanilee. The body has been collected already, it was collected as soon as they had all cleared out of the space.

Annie and Marsh have just now started their way back, thankfully. It’ll be sundown in two to three hours, which will then give Bauhinia better cover. Gloss said that it’s going to be shitty to try and track in the dark. It’ll definitely slow Sanguin and Geare down, and by then Bauhinia will be long gone.

“It won’t last that long, though.” Gloss said, “Bauhinia’s getting tired. Sanguin and Geare have been forced to work hard like this for hours. It’s only a matter of time.”

He was only saying what all of you were thinking.

Finnick goes from his head resting on the back of the couch, to placing it on your shoulder. You reach up and behind to rub his hair slightly, “You’re going to have a kink in your neck if you keep this up.”

“I’m literally exhausted.”

“Then go up to your room, you’re going to be miserable tonight.” you say, he hums.

“You think Annie and Marsh will be fine?”

“I can take care of them, if not.”

He sighs, “Okay.” Finnick gets up from the couch, yawning loudly and stretching his arms above his head. He gives one last look to the screen before looking at the others, “Good luck.”

“See you later, Finnick.” Gloss nods. Enobaria waves, Cecelia thanks him for his company.

Just before he goes, he leans on the arm of the couch, staring down at you, “I might sleep through dinner.”

“I’ll go and get you, don’t worry about it.” you smile, “Go sleep.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves, and as soon as he’s through the door, Enobaria snorts slightly. You and Gloss look at her, “There’s totally a thing between you two.”

“Okay, fuck off.” you wave your hand, “You have other things to be worrying about.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Enobaria’s amused.

You raise your eyebrows tauntingly, “My tributes are going to kick Geare’s ass.”

“Ha!” Enobaria laughs, “He scored a ten!”

“And Sanguin scored a nine, yet your little boy in there’s a sheep.”

“Oh, that’s got to burn.” Gloss smiles, Enobaria socks his upper arm, barely earning a look of pain out of him.

Half an hour later, Bauhinia’s running on fumes. She’s inhaled all of her water by now and sweated it out. Every step she takes, she grimaces as if she’s got scabs on the back of her feet. It’s probably her calves burning from all the exertion. She’s completely out of breath, her face an underlying red color.

Bauhinia slowly comes to a stop, walking a little off to the side by a giant tree. She leans against it for a moment, you can imagine how awful she’s feeling at the moment. She lets go of the tree for only a moment, sways, and collapses in the grass, struggling to breathe. In a little less than two minutes, she’s hyperventilating, and it’s not exactly quiet.

Game over.

Sanguin and Geare are close behind her, both experiencing their own unique versions of exhaustion. Geare complains at least once every twenty minutes, while Sanguin just continuously hydrates, pauses, and keeps going. She might have scored a nine, but she’s got the determination of an eleven. Sanguin’s a fucking trooper.

There’s no way that Bauhinia is getting up from her spot in the grass. She has half the mind to clutch onto her knife though, knuckles a pale color from her hard she’s gripping it. It’s only ten minutes later when Sanguin and Geare are almost on top of her. Bauhinia falls silent, eyes slowly moving to where she had stopped running.

“Fucking hell.” Geare says, his voice is quiet, getting louder as they come to the spot, “Can’t fucking believe this.”

“It’s impressive.” Sanguin admits, “But they’re stupid. They could’ve at least tried to hide themselves. It’s like they didn’t even care.”

Bauhinia moves the knife around in her hand, Sanguin uses the sword to poke around at their surroundings, “I’m not seeing a path.”

“Which means?” Geare asks.

“Either they scrambled up a tree, or they’re right here.” Sanguin turns, looking at her ally, “Don’t kill them.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on it. Not after all of this.” Geare says, they split, going two ways.

Bauhinia slips out of her backpack straps, which is smart. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach starting to arise, though. You know exactly what she’s planning, and she’s not going to get very far. She’s not the only one that can ditch a backpack and go running.

Bauhinia tucks her knife in the leather belt, turns over onto her knees, watching through the bushes for the perfect moment to run. Geare has backtracked slightly, wanting to be thorough, just in case Bauhinia didn’t drop off there, and created a second, more invisible path. Sanguin turns her back.

You’ll give Bauhinia some credit, because not only is she arrogantly stupid, she’s also resiliant. One second, she’s standing over her black backpack, the next she’s twenty feet away from the careers already. All she had to do was quietly sneak away, but with the way she’s whipped through the bush leaves, she’s caught their attention.

“It’s a girl!” Sanguin shouts, shedding her backpack, “Give me the kama!”

Geare’s ripped it off of the backpack, completely destroying the strap that was holding it in place. Sanguin must run track in high school, because she moves through the trees like she’s running on solid ground. She doesn’t look where she’s stepping, just keeps her eyes on Bauhinia, tracking her every movement. Bauhinia moves upwards, Sanguin pushes for a diagonal path. There’s no getting out of this one.

At least Bauhinia’s running on adrenaline, otherwise you’re sure she would be some form of a corpse by now. You can’t imagine that all of this running is good on her heart. Especially when she’s probably not used to running for long periods of time.

Sanguin gets right up on her, but she knows that she won’t catch her exactly. It was smart of her to ditch her sword, since that’s heavier that shit. But it raises the question of the kama, because there’s no way she’ll know how to wield it… right?

Wrong.

Sanguin comes to a full halt, nearly throwing herself forward from how hard she stops. She draws her arm back quick enough to be a blur, and then whips it forward, the kama disappearing from her fingers. Sanguin is strong, because that fucking weapon flies through the air at twenty-five miles an hour at least. The curved blade goes right through Bauhinia’s back, sending her sprawling into the trees.

Sanguin is breathing heavily, continuing up the hill to her prey. It’s the same predatory look in her eyes that you saw in Lennox’s. The desire for sweet revenge, or the sadistic mindset of murder for enjoyment. No one who volunteers for the Hunger Games is in their right minds. You’re surprised that the districts don’t require them to go to therapy after shit like this.

Bauhinia is sobbing into the dirt, hands balled into fists. Blood has seeped through her shirt where the kama has stabbed her. Only a couple seconds later, Geare is coming up behind them both. Sanguin isn’t concerned, doesn’t even look to check. Instead, she leans down and grabs the handle of the kama, and without a single hint of remorse, yanks the weapon out of her back.

You cringe, a gag rising in your throat at how much blood comes gushing out. Bauhinia’s scream of agony is nightmare-inducing, making goosebumps raise on your arms and a chill go down your back. Forget watching her strangle Vanilee to death. This is worse. Much, much worse.

Sanguin’s covered in rich colored blood, little specks across her face like freckles. The kama is quite literally dripping in Bauhinia’s blood, landing in droplets in the dirt, grass and weeds. Bauhinia’s scream-sobbing, her back is a giant open wound, you think you can even see her spine. How the fuck is she still alive?

“Oh my god.” you breathe, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You feel hot, and your mouth is watering more than usual.

The Capitol finds entertainment in moments like these, and even worse, tributes like Sanguin long for murders that keep everyone on their toes. Cecelia lets out a shaky breath, sniffs, and then stands, “I can’t do it.”

“Cecelia, I’m sorry.” Gloss says.

“I’ll see you next year.” is all she says, and then she’s gone too.

A giant puddle is forming beneath Bauhinia, the stench of metal and dirt has to be strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. You remember when you cracked a head open, and immediately puked after. It’s the same thing, only yours being slightly worse.

“You’ve trained a fucking psychopath.” you get up from the couch to have something to do to take your mind off of the rising vomit in your throat.

“Yeah…” Gloss’ voice is distant.

It’s hard to watch the rest of what happens to Bauhinia. Like promised, Sanguin doesn’t let her get off easy. Bauhinia should be dead already, and yet the hits just keep coming. Sanguin’s so ruthless that Geare doesn’t even feel the need to step in, leaning against the tree with a dead-straight face, arms crossed.

Sometimes Bauhinia is able to grasp a few words, always a plea for Sanguin to stop. Otherwise, she’s gurgling blood when Sanguin hits harder. Just this morning, Sanguin’s odds had already boosted from a 4-1 to 3-1, but now they’re 1-1, Geare is 2-1. And your tributes are fucked if they ever run across these two.

By the time Bauhinia does finally die, it’s almost an hour later, Sanguin and Geare weren’t even done with what they wanted to do. They pick up their shit, and on the way out, Geare lands a particularly hard kick to the side of Bauhinia’s head. They don’t look back when they walk away.

The show is over. They grab Bauhinia’s backpack at where she’d collapsed and set up camp right there. Sanguin grumbles about how Bauhinia probably stole the backpack from the cornucopia a while ago. They raid it, toss the remaining stuff into the bushes, and start a fire. They have enough water to drink and take their time to catch their breath. But they’re not planning on doing anything else today. They’re at least a mile away from the stream, as far as you can tell.

Annie and Marsh are almost back at the shack. They’ve already eaten their dinner on the way, from what you remember. And if they’re hungry later tonight, they agreed to just eat it cold. They don’t want to take any chances when it comes to being caught at their homebase. You appreciate the both of them.

Five boy, who was on the left side of the arena, has now migrated almost all the way to the right side of the arena. The gamemakers were all so caught up in showing the chase for hours that they weren’t able to show what the others were up to. The boy moving from one end to another is actually pretty impressive, but you’re starting to worry. The right side is becoming crowded.

Your two tributes, the two careers, and now Five boy. District Seven is three miles away at most, the only person who’s on the other side is Nine girl. There’s eight people left in the arena, and more than half are too close to your tributes for comfort.

The evening goes too quickly for your liking, you just spent hours feeling nauseous for Cecelia, and now that it’s over it’s almost forgotten completely. Annie takes watch in the shack tonight, Marsh falls asleep next to the wall, one arm bent above his head, the other resting on his stomach.

Five boy travels for a little while longer before making his home. He picks leaves off of bushes and chews them while making a bed of grass comfortable enough to sleep on. Nine girl looks like she’s found herself a hiding spot under a rock that’s behind a fallen log. The log is a home to bugs, so you’re not entirely sure if it’s a good spot to stay for the night or not. And District Seven is comfortable in their huts near the middle-top of the arena.

With the sun setting already, and the betting room mostly cleared out, you feel comfortable enough to get up and try to eat dinner. You’re not exactly hungry, especially not after all that you’ve just watched, but you know that you don’t want to be ordering food in your room in the middle of the night. Or gorging yourself in the morning.

“I probably won’t come back down here. I don’t think another fight’s going to break out tonight.” you briefly twirl a strand of hair around your finger before letting it go.

Gloss gives you a hug, bidding you a good night. Enobaria says the same, you wish her good luck when it comes to breaking the news to Wade. She rolls her eyes, “He’s going to be dramatic about it, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be awful. The real fun here is going to be telling Cashmere what Sanguin did.”

You both look to Gloss, “Yeah, she’s not going to be thrilled. You think the gamemakers will kill her?”

“If she starts licking blood off of her fingers, definitely.” you say, which earns a laugh out of your friends.

The second you step out of the betting room, you start feeling better. It’s fresh air from what you’ve been breathing for the past hour. While the hallway smells like stale concrete, it’s also more moist than it is inside, but not moldy. The inside of the betting room is dry, mostly because of the fact that it’s underneath the glass ceiling. If you were to describe it; dirt, sunlight, and dust. And if it’s particularly hot: sweat.

You don’t head straight up, opting for a few minutes to yourself before you ultimately have to explain what happened in the arena to Finnick. You’re sure that you won’t have to get into the gorey details, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know the severity of it. Every couple of years, tributes like Sanguin come around, and it’s always a bloody ending. They always get stuck with some title like ‘Ruthless’ and take pride when other mentors steer clear.

Sometimes, you hear people debating whether or not you fall under that topic. And honestly, sometimes it’s hard for you to know, yourself.

You take the elevator up to the Four floor, holding onto the railing. You’ve seen more than your fair share of gorey moments inside and outside of the arena by now. At this point, you’re sure that you’re being tested to see how far you can be pushed before you snap. The truth is that you have an immeasurable amount of patience. It’s going to take a while.

The moment you get upstairs, you go ahead and turn the tv on and wait. Finnick had only come up here a little while ago, it wouldn‘t hurt to give him some more time before he’s subjected to a boring night. He can always just sleep down there, of course. But it’s more comfortable to sleep in your own bed, even if it’s just for a little while.

You take a seat on the couch, untie your shoes, and watch Annie. She’s talking to Marsh at the moment, mostly speculation on who died. Two tributes is a lot, considering all that’s happened. It isn’t until the anthem comes on, do they realize that they can just look into the sky and see who it was for themselves.

They both slip out just in time to see that Vanilee is one of the dead tributes from today. Annie grins slightly, elbowing Marsh. He elbows her right back, looking just as happy. And with Bauhinia showing up next, they head inside right after.

“Two careers.” Marsh whispers, “We ought to take them on ourselves.”

“Us and what army?” Annie asks.

They’re both quiet for a couple of minutes, until Marsh speaks again, “I think we could do it.”

“It’s a risk.”

“The entire Hunger Games is a risk. We knew that and volunteered anyway. What’s the harm in a little more?”

Annie doesn’t answer him, he drifts off to sleep. The truth is that if you’re not ready to go at it with a whole heart, you shouldn’t go into it at all. Annie is conflicted, you hope she doesn’t buckle just because Marsh is applying pressure. All it takes is one moment of hesitance with the careers now, and your tributes are screwed.

Still, you sit and watch for an hour or so longer, as the tributes settle into their spots. The moment that Sanguin says that she doesn’t want to take watch tonight, you’re at ease. You pick up your shoes by the back, and head up towards your room, right after telling the avoxes that you’ll be out to eat in a moment.

You drop your shoes off in your room. On your way over to wake up Finnick, you can hear the door close. It’s Elysia, dressed in sunshine yellow and pink. She gives you a slight wave before sitting down at the table. You continue on your adventure to Finnick’s room, gently knocking on the door before you open it.

Finnick is passed out on the bed, anyway. You stand there for a moment, hesitating on whether or not you should actually wake him up. You think that you’re just fine to keep going in the betting room for a while longer. If you take it easy after dinner, you should have loads of more hours in you. And you’ll actually get to see Cashmere and Wade for the first time in a couple of days.

However, it doesn’t work out like that. You go to turn and leave, but Finnick inhales sharply and sits upright on his bed, “Fucking Christ, you scared me.” He lets out a small laugh, and rubs his face, “That’s one way to wake me up.”

“Through your sixth sense?” You joke, Finnick snorts.

“Something like that.” He looks at you, “Anything wrong?”

“Just dinner time. And I should probably catch you up on what happened after you left. Get dressed, Elysia’s out here.” You flick on his lightswitch, since the room has grown dark without any natural light, and then you leave.

Elysia is at the table, food displayed all across it. She helps herself, giving herself small portions. Knowing her, she’s planning on trying everything at least once to try and not seem rude. You take your regular spot, and start out pretty light, not wanting to push yourself. You don’t know how much you’re going to be able to tolerate.

Finnick comes out a couple of moments later, wearing jeans and a black shirt. He sits beside you, but stares at the tv for a while, probably trying to figure out what happened exactly.

“Today was… eventful.” Elysia says, there’s a hint of distaste in her voice. You’re so glad that you got stuck with an escort that’s some form of sane. If you had one of those Capitol people that act like your former prep team when something bad happens, you would’ve murdered her by now. It makes for hard conversation when you’re at opposing sides.

“Finnick missed it.” You tell her, “Do you think there’ll be a recap of it?”

“Do you want to watch the recap?” She asks, face twisting, “Does he?”

You both barely glance at Finnick, who’s not very entertained by all the vagueness. It doesn’t even cross your mind that Elysia might be right and he wouldn’t want to watch someone literally get their back ripped out. You’ve seen the shit that Finnick has done, or watched when he was bored.

“Finnick’s got an iron stomach. Your back is to the tele anyway, you should be fine as long as you don’t turn around.” And you should be fine if you don’t watch the particularly bad parts. In the end, Elysia helps you rewind to when Bauhinia collapses in the bushes.

“This happened thirty minutes after you left.” You say, deciding that you should eat while you can.

Finnick doesn’t seem bothered at first, watching as the careers come around and start looking for her. It’s only their natural instinct, and it’s the same thing for when Bauhinia pushes herself to her feet. Finnick does react when he realizes that she’s going to run.

“Wow.” He says, pulling apart a honey roll, eating it in bits.

“It gets worse.” You say.

Elysia barely glances over her shoulder, apprehensive, “Much, much worse.”

Bauhinia runs, Finnick exhales. Sanguin shouts, collects the kama, and leaves Geare in the dust. He’s moving behind her, but not as quickly.

“She’s fast.” Finnick sounds impressed, “And so is Bauhinia.”

“Not fast enough.” You find your fingers twisting the ring, anxious.

Sanguin catches up, and the moment she comes to that quick stop, you hold your breath. The kama flies through the air, lodging into Bauhinia. Finnick tilts his head. The room falls silent, Elysia finishes her meal just in time for Sanguin to reach Bauhinia.

You turn your head away, but you’re still stuck with the sound of squelching and blood-curdling screaming. Finnick’s face twists, eyebrows pushing in, “How did Cecelia take it?”

“Left before this happened. Gloss tried to apologize, but she said she’d see us next year.”

“Probably not.” Finnick shakes his head, “And this went on for how long?l

Elysia turns the tv off, “Practically an hour.”

You two go back to eating, Elysia’s space is cleared. “Anything else happen?”

“Nine girl got a backpack this afternoon, just before I went down to see you. Her pick of the litter since the careers were absent from the cornucopia. Five boy is almost on the right side.”

Finnick chokes, “Already? When did he start heading that way?”

“Sometime during the great chase, the gamemakers showed all the tributes after the fact. Also, Marsh has proposed the idea of him and Annie going after the careers since they’re down a tribute. Annie doesn’t think it’s a great idea.”

“That’s because Annie has some common sense.”

“Yeah.” You agree.

Elysia stays out with you guys just long enough to pass on a few messages from Laurel and Pleurisy. It’s not anything important, just meaningless facts about their progress, they want to know your opinions on if your tributes still have a chance. Your answer is yes.

She goes to her room, Finnick finishes eating. You tell him that he can probably sleep for a while longer without having to go downstairs. You got confirmation from the careers that they weren’t going to try and go night hunting after what they’ve been through today.

“What're you going to do in your free time?” Finnick asks, you shrug and jab your thumb down the hall.

“Go outside and try not to puke.”

“Did it know you were so squeamish.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face.

You give him a look, and then disappear down the dark hallway. Your fingers find the doorknob, twisting it. The summer air is surprisingly cold, but surely refreshing. You take in a deep breath, and feel like an idiot almost immediately after. It’s air.

Finnick comes out right behind you, shutting the door. The city is calm, no one is in the streets celebrating an exciting day. You lean against the railing and take in deep breaths of air. It wasn’t a good idea to rewatch the recap, you’ve decided this now. Even if you weren't watching it directly, you still heard it all.

“Annie and Marsh are going to be okay.” Finnick says.”

“I think so too, as long as they don’t go running towards the careers. That’s a fight I don’t want to watch them lose. If you thought Sanguin on Bauhinia was bad, imagine what she’ll do to Annie.” You look at Finnick.

He hadn’t considered that, you can tell by the look on his face. He sighs, which turns into a yawn, “Well, Annie Can take care of herself.”

“Hopefully.”

“There’s no hoping, she can take care of herself.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Imagine having Annie or Marsh in Victor’s Village. One of them could be our new neighbor.”

You snort, smiling, “Talk about a nightmare. My house already hosts practically everyone during the dinners, adding Annie’s family on top of that means we’ll have to get a bigger table. Or worse, build one ourselves.”

“Reed is handy!” Finnick laughs.

“He’s not handy, and neither is Mox.” You shake your head, the ide app either of them attempting to build a table is stupid. You’ll just have to find some sort of carpenter and hope that the dining room is big enough.

“How many people do you normally have over?” Finnick asks.

“Think you have a table?” You joke.

“Maybe.” He grins, “I’m just curious, honestly. Last time I went to one of your dinners, I was sixteen.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my entire family, which is four. And Caspian’s family, which is seven.” Finnick laughs, you chuckle slightly, “Sometimes Mayor Burrula and his family, which is four. Definitely Anchor…” you trail off, counting, “Sixteen people, give or take.”

“You’ll invite Anchor but not Mags?”

“Oh! I forgot Mags. She comes to our dinners every night, though. Guess I should count her as family at this point.”

“Anchor isn’t?”

You look at Finnick again to see that his eyebrows are raised, “Still curiosity?”

He shrugs, “Are you still dating?”

“No, not anymore.” you follow a car until it turns a corner, “We were only together for a couple of months… last christmas through August.”

“Huh, felt like longer.”

You give him a look, “How’d you even know?”

“I pay attention. Why’d you break up?”

You hum, “Well, for starters, he’s like five or six years older than me. He’s worked through all of his problems, and I’m not even done yet.” you pick at your nails, “He didn’t like seeing me stressed out all the time, either. He was there for me when I needed him but he thought that I was dragging him around like a weight.” you look back at Finnick, “Partially your fault, mostly mine because I don’t know how to chill out apparently.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Finnick says.

You make a face, and then punch his arm as hard as you can. Finnick’s still rubbing the spot when you go back to where you were standing before, “Anyway, asshole. Him and I still hang out when we can. I take care of Mags, he takes care of Luther.” you snort, “You and Scotch have something in common, can you guess what it is?”

“Fuck you.” Finnick’s laughing, “I’ve done my part this year!”

“After I nearly killed you three times.” you run a hand through your hair, getting it out of your face, “But yeah, Anchor and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Seeing someone else?”

You look at him, “Are you?”

Finnick shakes his head, “No, not yet.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair redamancy #redamancy #redamancy chapter six

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roseworth · 3 years

Note

pls tell us more about fitzmom! i want to know her like you do 💛

i am SO glad u asked 🥰 strap in i wrote so much more than i thought i would

(disclaimer these are obviously all headcanons bc fitzmom has no canon personality so every hc i have for her comes from the love in my heart)

so first of all i like the name Celeste for her, i’ve heard a lot of different names for her but i use celeste (mostly because of the word “celestial” bc,,, moon lol)

some quick little things about her before i get into A Lot:

-she’s very sarcastic/snarky (like eugene 😌) but not because she’s a mean person, just bc she thinks it’s funny. she’s very confident and determined (stubborn) because if she knows what she wants, she’s not going to let anyone get in her way. this can often become a fault because she unintentionally steps on others or ignores their wishes if she thinks she’s right.

-she also wants to get along with everybody, and she’s a little rapunzel-ish in the way that if she doesnt get along with someone she’s Stresses Out and needs to make them like her

-also she’s bi. no reason other than that there’s no way i can look at her and think “straight woman”

i’m gonna put the rest of this under a cut bc it got,,, a lot longer than i expected sorry 😳 i just care very deeply about her

she wasn’t born into royalty. she grew up in the Dark Kingdom and lived there for years, but she was just a normal person for most of her life. her dad left when she was young so she was raised by her mom. when she was in her early 20s, her mom died and that was what pushed her to leave the dark kingdom for a bit. for the next few years she journeyed around the world and visited other kingdoms just to see what it was like, but the dark kingdom was always her home. she was in her late 20s when she came back to the dk

when she came back home, she expected to just settle back into a normal life, but she ended up meeting a dude that just happened to be the king. she didn’t even realize that he was the king at first bc she didnt bother paying much attention to what the royalty was up to. but one day someone says “so i saw you’ve been spending a lot of time with the king ;)” and she just says “haha what? that’s not the king that’s just ed.” and they have to tell her that he’s actually the king. when she asks why he never told her, he just said that he assumed she knew and didn’t care (and he was right, she didn’t care, but she at least would’ve liked to know 😔)

the two of them get closer. she thinks that he’s the weirdest person she’s ever met (in a good way) and he gets all flustered around her whenever she smiles. nerd.

she also cares a lot about the kingdom. it’s her home and she grew up with lots of the people in it, so she wants to protect all the citizens even before she becomes queen. she also is used to the Moonstone causing problems and wants to find a way to stop it just as much as anyone. she reads a lot about the history of the Moonstone and the different research that’s been conducted on it to see if there’s a connection she can find or a way to stop it. she doesn’t find anything, but she doesn’t like giving up.

edmund proposes to her, ofc she says yes bc she loves that nerd and wants to spend her life with him. technically there are rules against royalty marrying commoners but a) he’s the king so he does what he wants, b) she knows what she wants and won’t take no for an answer, and c) she knows almost the entire kingdom and everyone loves her so no one cares that they’re breaking one dumb rule

she tries to bond with the brotherhood and she soon finds out that they’re all just as weird as edmund and she LOVES it. she bonds with quirin and hector pretty much instantly. when she finds out quirin knows a little bit about farming (he farms as a hobby on the side. what a loser) she asks him to teach her everything bc she loves nature and likes to learn how to grow things. since she’s traveled a lot, she can connect with hector since he has random animals that he’s just kind of collected from places he’s been. he has a rhino that he just… brought home one day. she thinks that’s the coolest thing ever

but she has a bit of trouble making friends with adira since adiras really closed off and likes to keep herself distant. that doesn’t stop celeste from trying. she offers to help with adiras training. even though adira is stronger than her, she assumes she could hold her own for long enough in a sparring match. it doesn’t go well, so she tries a different tactic.

they end up comparing research on the Moonstone, and adira tells her about her Sundrop theory. they go on a little quest to see if they can find anything about the Sundrop. they don’t find anything, but after adventuring together for days, they finally feel Connected to each other. adiras never had a girl friend since most of the people she spends time with are the brotherhood. so she thinks it’s nice that she has someone that is willing to spar with her and go searching for long lost magical artifacts #justgirlythings

celeste always wanted a big family. she has so much love to give to everyone and she just always imagined having children. when she first got pregnant she was ECSTATIC. she found a way to mention it in every conversation she had, no matter who it was with

but as it got closer to her delivery date, she was starting to get scared. she didn’t want to screw it up, and she wanted her kid to feel happy and loved all the time. she felt like it was so much pressure to have this kid that she had to raise to be happy and okay and make sure that the child was ready for the world. then she started stressing out over every little choice she made as if getting the wrong crib meant the world was going to explode

edmund talked to her about it and assured her that they were in this TOGETHER and no matter what happened, they would love their child. sometimes things were out of their hands, but they would make sure that that child had all the love in the world :’) that reassured her a bit, and she tried to work on letting go of control.

but then the Moonstone started getting worse than usual. now she not only wanted to protect her kingdom, but make the best life for her kid. it started up about a month before she gave birth, and she was getting nervous about what was going to happen.

after she gave birth to a lovely little boy, she kept an eye on the Moonstone. it was only getting worse, and she didn’t want her son to have to deal with it. she tried to stay away from it but she couldn’t ignore it.

when her son is about a month old, she tries to destroy the Moonstone. it doesn’t work. it shoots up a rock and kills her.

edmund is with her in her last moments. she knows she’s about to die and she feels like she failed. she couldn’t save her kingdom or her son. she tries to apologize to her husband because she was dying and she didn’t even get to destroy the moonstone. she just wanted to keep everyone safe and she failed. edmund promises her that he will make sure everyone is safe. that makes her feel better

she tells him that she loves him. she asks him to keep their son protected and happy. then she dies in his arms.

her death impacted everyone in and out of the kingdom. people everywhere were mourning the loss of the queen of the dark kingdom.

everyone in the brotherhood became more closed off after that. after her death, quirin swore to not get any more loved ones involved in the Moonstone if he could avoid it. he knows how dangerous it is and won’t lose anyone else he cares about to it. hector acts like he doesnt care as much as he does and tries to cover up the issue with anger. he knows that she was looking for the Sundrop with adira, and he wonders if that research is what made the Moonstone angry. he decides that if moonstone=bad and sundrop=moonstone, then sundrop=bad. adira is also extremely hurt, because she barely takes her walls down to form connections with people. so then one of the only times she allows herself to get close to someone, she ends up getting hurt. so she puts her walls back up and refuses to make more close relationships out of fear that it will hurt more when she loses them.

so basically no one is dealing with their loss in a healthy way

edmund is definitely not dealing with it well. he loved her with all his heart and doesn’t know how to go on without her. he realized that his son was in danger the longer he stayed in the dark kingdom, and so were the rest of the citizens. so he literally pushes everyone away and makes them leave. he doesn’t want his son to be constantly weighed down by the threat of the Moonstone, and he wanted to keep everyone safe the way he should’ve done for her. so he sends everyone away and pretty much spends the next 25 years wallowing in guilt. he never got the chance to process the grief because everyone was sent away so abruptly. in the empty castle, at first he to her every day and over time he just naturally starts voicing all of his thoughts to fill the silence

anyways years and years later, after the series, eugene wants to learn more about his mom but no one likes talking about her (bc no one ever bothered processing their grief so they just ignore it now) so he goes through old dk files and records by himself and tries to find anything about her. he finds the pages and pages of research she did about the moonstone but can’t really find much about who she was as a person

eventually he asks adira about the research they did together to try to learn more about her. adira tells him about their time researching together, and eventually tells him about her. adira says that ever since the forest of no return, she had her suspicions that eugene was Horace just because he reminded her SO MUCH of celeste that she wondered if they were related.

eugene is happy to know that he’s so much like his mom, since he spent his entire life imagining what she was like without knowing who she was. eventually he gets his dad to talk about her, and edmund realized he felt better about it when he could tell stories about the happy parts of their life together instead of replaying her death over and over in his head

okay i think that’s all i have for now i’m sorry i wrote so much i just Love this character whose personality i completely made up

#everyone please tell me your fitzmom headcanons #i love hearing about my girl and i want to know what everyone else thinks of her #i wrote most of this at 4 am #i was planning on just writing a little bit then it got away from me #i just have a lot of feelings about her #im almost glad she didn’t get any canon development bc i’m afraid chris would ruin her 😔#WAIT AMDHFKSKA MORE THINGS I DIDNT INCLUDE:#first of all when eugene heard his dad talking about his mom it made him think of himself and rapunzel #just because of how much edmund loved and cared about his wife #eugenes like :0 omg I ALSO love and care about my wife!!!!#but i didn’t include it bc that’s more new dream centric and i wanted this to at least mostly stay centered around fitzmom #and another thing i didn’t include #i once heard a hc that quirin and fitzmom are siblings and i love that so much #i didn’t include it bc it doesn’t fit with my Vision™️#and also i don’t remember who originally said it and i don’t want to say it w/o credit 😔#tangled #fitzmom #eugene

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Note

Fic request for touristy Maximoff family? (bc Vision's 'drunk' awkwardness in Wandavision ep 2 where he apologised to a handrail, is something that I as a Brit intensely and deeply relate to, and it reminded me of them hiding out in the UK in IW which also made me v emotional- they deserved better!)

Thanks for the ask! They really did deserve better and hopefully might get some happiness at some point. I hope you enjoy their family day trip!

***

“Where are the witches?”

Vision folds the map into a square and slides it back into his fanny pack, nonchalance embedded in the action “Oh, there are no witches.”

This isn’t what Billy wants to hear, “You said this is Witch House.”

“I did, yes.”

The conversation circles back around, “Then where are the witches?”

“Well technically there were never any true witches here in the first place.” Billy stares at Vision, betrayal drooping his mouth down into a deep and unforgiving frown. A history lesson isn’t going to save the moment, and yet her husband tries, determined to share the two weeks worth of research he’s conducted since they decided on the trip. “It is called Witch House because it was owned by Judge Jonathon Corwin who presided over some of the witch trials. Now, though some like to say witchcraft was rampant at the time, it in fact was -”

“But I wanted witches.” This is true, it was Billy’s only request—spooky witches to be precise. “You said there’d be witches.”

Tommy isn’t fully invested in the trip, having voted to go to an amusement park for their fall get-away, but he never passes up an opportunity to pile onto a complaint. “Yeah, where are the witches, dad?”

“Salem has far greater historical value than just the witch trials.” Not a smart tactic, which Vision realizes as soon as he says it, face scrunching up at the misstep while the gears in his eyes rotate furiously to the left signifying he’s attempting to figure out how to regain their confidence. “Um, from my understanding there may be some modern day witches in the village who provide tours and demonstrations. We can stop by once we have seen everything.”

This earns some consideration from their ten year olds. “Real witches or like herbal tea witches?”

Tommy piggybacks on his brother’s question, “Will they turn Billy into a frog?”

“No one is being transformed into an amphibian,” Vision reassures them.

“Lame.” Only a half hour in and the L word is out in the open, a new record for the Maximoffs.

Wanda rolls her eyes at the rebuttal and studies the building in front of them, a foreboding tiered facade with black wood trim that would fit right into a horror movie. Briefly she wonders if it was always black or if that was added to enhance the supernatural identity the town developed once they realized the tourism potential of their sordid past. If ominousness is what sells here, she knows how to reclaim their trip. “Vizh,” her husband meets her gaze,the exasperation of parenthood making him seem particularly desperate for her thoughts, “There was at least one witch you can tell them about.” Confusion crinkles his brow, “Agatha.”

Realization dawns, as if he had blocked out all memories of dear old Agatha. “Ah yes Agatha Harkness.” The name falters on his lips, uncertainty making residence in his body with the wringing of his hands. “I am not sure they are old enough to hear about-“

“You owe us a witch, dad.” Tommy is very dedicated now, a grave frown on his face and an arm wrapped tenderly around his twin’s shoulders. “Billy deserves a witch.”

Vision folds, shoulders inching down in submission of their desires. “Agatha Harkness,” it is not that they have had bad experiences, per se, with Agatha, but she always intersects with their lives at moments of both wonderful highs and crippling lows, which is why Vision seems to weigh her name so heavily. “You will not see the name Agatha Harkness in any of the books about Salem.” Wanda can feel Vision mentally shut the books of information he’d acquired for the day. “She was a witch, a real one and very powerful as well as very old.”

“How old?” Billy’s eyes are shining at the change in tone for the trip. “Like ancient?”

“Positively ancient.” An enormous grin erupts on Billy’s face, while Tommy stands unusually rapt. “There are accounts of her presence all the way back to 10,500 BC, there are even rumors she was involved in the lost city of Atl-”

A cloyingly sweet and chipper “Excuse me,” breaks the story and the atmosphere. The voice belongs to a short, blonde haired woman in a puffy vest and flannel shirt, “I couldn’t help but overhear your tour and was hoping we could join.” The we is a man a few years older than the woman, his gray mustache thick enough to hide whatever his feelings are about the request.

Vision’s lips part and then close a few times, hand half raised as he processes the intrusion. “Oh um, this is a uh private tour,” a nervous, placating smile tries to shoo away the couple. It doesn’t work, neither does his, “Terribly sorry for the confusion.”

Typically on their trips people come up to them because they are Avengers, but Wanda doesn’t detect the same motivation from the couple, neither seeming to actually recognize them. The husband appears a bit concerned about Vision’s appearance while the wife assumes it is for show, “Oh well, you just seem dressed the part, you little devil,” Wanda tries not to laugh, something Tommy fails at, chuckling at the way the comment wilts his father further. Whoever this woman is ignores the reaction, soldiering on ahead as if it is her job to get what she wants. “And you are giving this beautiful family such a lovely tour. We’d love to join in.”

Vision weighs his response, eyes first surveying the very clearly matching sweatshirts they are wearing, this year’s travel theme the Maximoff Bunch. Each of them has a navy sweatshirt with Cambria font declaring their role-- Vision’s sweatshirt (that is real clothing, not molecularly manipulated so that he has a keepsake from their trip) is emblazoned with Papa-ya, their less than thrilled 10 year olds are sporting ones labeled Bil(ly)berry and Tommy-rillo, and Wanda’s deviates a bit with Mom-osa, Vision crushed to not find a fruit close enough to mom to complete the bunch. This should be enough to convince this woman that they are all a family and not a tour group...and yet she just keeps smiling sweetly at Vision until he gives in. “We’re happy to pay.”

Now Vision turns towards Wanda, searching for a response or a rescue. She doesn’t get a chance to help, Tommy speaking up first, “Fifty a person fair?”

“Thomas I do not-”

“Completely fair.”

The glare from Vision assures their son that they are going to talk about this on the ride home, Tommy’s impulsivity almost always at odds with Vision’s desire for control and planning.

Vision turns towards the couple, hands clasped tightly in a sign that another apology is on it’s way but it is stopped by Billy recentering their attention to what is most important. “How can Agatha be so old?”

Faced with numerous smiling and eager faces, Vision seems to accept his newfound role with a deep, soundless sigh, “Well, she is a very powerful witch, one who even survived the Salem Witch Trials.”

“No way!”

“Very much so. Let us return to 10,500 BC first.” Now that he is free to regale them with history, albeit seasoned with a heaping amount of occult, Vision finds his element. They learn about how Agatha came to be in Salem, about the Witch House and the judge who dwelled there, of the frenzy that occurred in people pointing fingers at anyone who was suspicious or merely disliked. The boys are enraptured listening to the tales of injustice and prejudice and, as they move from the Witch House to the hill on which many witches were burned at the stake, their little tour group increases in size, a trail of eight people joining on.

Surprisingly her husband takes it all in stride, welcoming each new person and asking their name. What really seems to excite Vision is when their crew asks questions. One of the newbies stops him during his soliloquy on what behaviors were deemed witchy. “Is it true that witches danced naked?”

Vision’s charm is on full display, lips cocked to the side as he shakes his head at the idiocy of the past, “Merely a salacious rumor because titillation is more convincing than honesty.”

A voice from the back of the group declares, “That’s because history is written by lonely men.”

Without missing a beat, her husband nods appreciatively at the running commentary from this particular guest, “A very astute observation, Taiyah, yet again. Now let’s turn our attention back to the Court of Oyer and Terminer.”

As the tour keeps moving through the harrowed landmarks, Billy is at the front, always just to the side of Vision, soaking in every word of information. Tommy, on the other hand, oscillates between the front and the back, eventually deciding to stick with Wanda. “This is starting to get a bit lame.”

“Your father and brother are having fun.”

His annoyed sigh seeks companionship, which she won’t give because she’s enjoying herself as well. “It’s just so much talking.” It is more than Tommy is ever willing to listen to, his mind and body always seconds, if not hours, ahead of them all. “Where’s the excitement?”

Sweeping the environment is a key aspect of missions and right now Wanda has assessed that the majority of the group are crowded around a tree, listening to the story of how Agatha supported parts of the trials out of a need to cull the weaker witches and remove her competition, it is a dark aspect of the tour, barely a sound existing to interfere with Vision’s explanation of the witch’s intentions. “Watch this.” Tommy stares at Wanda as she lifts her hand, scarlet undulating around her fingers, and then she flicks a finger, the tree trembling mightily despite no breeze to speak of. Several people gasp, one woman screams, and instantly Vision locks eyes with her, not one to ever be deceived by her influence. She expects irritation at disrupting his story, but instead there’s a little spark of mischief in his swirling irises, an almost imperceptible uptick to the left corner of his mouth that takes all her energy not to go and enjoy.

“Don’t you all tell us not to do that?” Tommy’s voice is bated, eager to figure out if their limits on use of powers in public is about to be lessened.

“No one goes on a witch tour without hoping for a little bit of magic.” The shit eating grin on his face is almost a perfect replica of Pietro’s and one she can’t help but mirror. “Just watch and learn.”

***

By the time they reach the Witch Village, the agreed upon conclusion of their tour, Vision can’t get a word in edgewise, the entire group riled up, swapping observations of the branches that moved without wind, the sense of dread that engulfed their minds at the guilty verdict of Agatha, or the heat they felt when the pyre was verbally lit. It’s this sense of awe that makes not a single person listen to Vision’s insistent, “Sorry, please, I do not want your money. Please, keep it for yourselves.” Instead of listening to him, everyone shoves their payment into the cup that Tommy so helpfully procured from the concession stand nearby.

Once all the people are gone, it is just the Maximoffs once again. “Was that sufficient in witches?”

Billy’s enthusiastic nods sends his hair bobbing with glee. “So awesome.”

“I have a question,” this comes from Tommy, who has already bought an ice cream cone with their earnings, the swirl of chocolate and vanilla towering up from his fist, “would we have been considered witches back then?”

“Well,” Vision’s arm snakes around her waist, pulling her until their hips are touching, the pride in his voice wrapping her even more snugly with his affection, “your mother already is a stunning one.”

“Gross.”

“And I no doubt would be viewed as inherently supernatural and thus evil,” something that is said with levity instead of the usual depths of despair that accompanies Vision’s grapple with humanity. “The two of you would also be suspect, simply from your parentage but also, well-”

“So the answer is yes?” Vision concedes with a nod. “Great, wanna go take a picture in the arm thingies over there?” They follow the ice cream cone as it points them towards a small square where people are taking turns putting their heads and hands through the holes.

“That would be a pillory,” Vision helpfully defines, but neither of their sons are listening, having already taken off to join the line for the photo op.

Wanda takes their brief solitude to encircle his waist with her arm, squeezing him tight and kissing his shoulder. “You have fun?”

His arm moves to rest along her shoulders, “Surprisingly yes, it was a bit exhilarating to have a truly captive audience.”

Wanda hugs him tighter, “Good.” Billy and Tommy wave them over, only ten people now ahead of them in line. They look so carefree, jostling each other with whatever it is they are bickering about now, their happiness with the day unashamedly stitched into every movement. Given who they are, Wanda is glad they are alive now and not during a time of greater hatred. Which brings her mind back to the woman who made the tripa success. “Vizh?”

“Hmm?”

“When do you think we should let them meet Agatha?”

They stop, Vision sometimes unable to think and walk at the same time, and the toil in his mind is palpable even without her powers. “I believe,” he too takes in their sons, a fluttering smile on his lips the longer he stares, “it might be best she remains a story for a little bit longer.”

#vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet vision #wandavision #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #the maximoffs #ask anon #replies #mine

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Drink Me

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 6,601

Summary: Aqua drinks a truth potion... Now they're going to have to talk about things.

Read on AO3

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! This is part of an art/fic trade that I'm doing with Moe (@terraswill on Twitter)!! I was so excited to work on this but it was also just... so hard?? We agreed on the trade back in June I think, and it took me this long. xD The timing was perfect though, and when they post their art, I'll edit this to include a link! Moe asked for was something domestic and fluffy (and I'm totally the wrong person to ask but I never back from a challenge dkfjkfjgf), and maybe give Aqua a reason to play a prank. We support a Let Aqua Have Fun 2021 agenda in this house. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. To my angst readers, I hope you find something here you like anyway lmao

~*~*~*~*~

She says she’s annoyed with me because I won’t let her dust the tapestry. Or rather, I won’t let her have her

way

and take on this ugly monstrosity (which I think is supposed to depict an ancient Keyblade Master who died four-hundred years ago; at this point, the threads are too faded to give him a defined face).

The truth has more layers than that, something I don’t like to talk about. But it’s a clear day, the sun beaming through our windows and igniting the castle in golden hues. I won’t find the time to mope when Aqua is beckoning me to give her the feather duster.

Aqua is a lot shorter than me. I pretend to give it to her, only to swerve it around her face and hang it up high above her head. I’ve got a smirk to last me hours, and there’s a sly one pulling on her lips.

“Maybe if you jump,” I say, wiggling it.

She doesn’t move. “Terra.”

I pull it up higher. “Come get it.”

“Or you could stop trying to overcompensate and let me help you.”

“Who says that’s what I’m doing?” That’s exactly what I’m doing. Any chance I get, I’ll do it all to make up for lost years. If she says she’ll tidy the garden tomorrow, I’ll rip the weeds by dawn. If she wants to prepare a feast, I’ll organize the ingredients, the recipes, the appliances. I call it helping out. She calls it ridiculous.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. Yep.

“It’s not like you could reach the top anyway,” I say, knowing this is precisely what would set her off.

Aqua likes to present herself as proper: head tall, ankles together. But when I push her buttons, that’s the first mask to melt off. She lunges at me, chest to chest, aiming for the duster that’s balancing on the tips of my fingers, my elbow locked and shoulder riding as high as it can, as if I’m trying to clean the ceiling. We’re giggling, we’re tight, we’re children all over again.

“Give it,” she says, her eyebrows and lips twisted in feverish concentration. She’d never let anyone else see her behave this way.

“What are you doing?” She steps onto my shoes to gain height and I have to wrap my free arm around her waist to keep our balance (not that I’d complain if she ends up landing on top of me). My heart is pounding stupid rhythms at the smell of her shampoo. I don’t like sweet, but I like it on her.

“Master’s orders. Give it to me.”

“Try harder.”

She inhales sharply, giving me that Aqua look. Fine. She turns her head towards the tapestry and puckers her lips together, blowing air as if blowing out a candle. The layer of dust that sits at the very top bursts, sprinkling the console table beneath it.

In my shock, she snatches the feather duster, the quietest Hmm of satisfaction coming out loud enough to demand my audience. She taps the tapestry with a flat laundry bat, all while waving her hand over the surface of the table, the dust collecting itself as if swirled by a magnetic tornado.

No use for the duster at all.

“You think you’re clever,” I say, getting close behind her.

“I think you agree.”

I think she’s pretending. Her smile looks the same but it’s manufactured, tied to a puppeteer’s strings. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t agree at all. I’m prepared to tell her that she’s assured and confident, but she already knows. This happens: I’ll catch a sudden recognition dawning on her face, like she’s reminding herself of something, and I’m left to guess what it could be.

We’re interrupted by a loud sneeze that drifts from the other side of the hall, followed by a hack and a cough, finishing with a sniffle.

She’s panicked. It sounds like a case of the common cold, and nothing to be worried about, but that’s Aqua. I follow her lead, which takes us to no one else but Ven, who is wiping his face. A faint trace of dust rides on the strands of his hair. Actually, there’s dust everywhere except on the tapestry he’s responsible for.

“Ven!” Aqua gapes. “What happened here?”

He takes a look around the chaos and gives a mere shrug, rubbing the back of his hand on his pants. “I was dusting.”

“You were using magic,” she says like she’s scolding him, despite doing the same minutes ago.

“What did you expect me to do?” He gestures towards the tapestry—the Master’s favorite, of a round cat lounging on a throne and announcing a toast with his goblet—like it’s a mountain to climb. “Get a ladder?”

“What a mess,” Aqua mutters with a flitter of her fingers, shepherding the dust together so it’s easier to collect.

“I’m not finished.”

“Master’s orders,” I say and Aqua doesn’t spare me a glare. Yes, I find that funny.

Ven ushers her aside. “Come on, let me help.”

“I got it,” she says, fixated on the job. Always the one to do and still can’t learn to accept a helping hand.

“Aqua.”

“Ven?”

I know better than to get in the middle of this.

Ven generates gusts of air with a wave of both of his arms—a terrible idea when Aqua’s conducting from the other side—and the dust grows darker into a thick cloud of smoke. He stares at his handiwork with a dropped jaw. I’m shocked too. Where did all of that come from?

Aqua grunts as she tries to calm the storm, Ven mimicking her movements.

“Let it go,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“It will all fall to the floor.”

“There’s too much pressure building up from the bottom.”

“It’s under control.”

“It’s going to explode.”

She pouts (stars, it’s cute) but of course, only half-listens to me. Moving her palms parallel to the floor, she makes a gesture as if to compress. With Ven slacking, it billows low to the floor and then sweeps up.

The tapestry flaps upward, revealing a door.

Ven’s the first to cough. “What’s that?”

Aqua and I stare at each other. We’ve hidden behind every single one of these tapestries when we played as kids. There shouldn’t be a door.

“Do you think it’s magic leftover from—” I start to ask.

She shakes her head. “It can’t be. I returned everything to its rightful place.”

“Then what is this supposed to mean?”

Discouraged by our hushed tones, Ven stops himself from turning the knob, waiting for our approval.

“It could have been hidden by a spell,” Aqua suggests.

“Oh.”

We’re quiet. Spells last for as long as the spellcaster is alive.

“The Master would have called it an inheritance,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

One by one, we peek into the secret room. Ven is eager to open the door but only pushes it a sliver. It creaks with determination to wake everyone inside. Aqua is second, looking over him. I’m last, searching the corners for signs of movement.

It’s empty except for a rack of white robes, stacks of books on a desk, a chess board, and a forest-colored couch. On the opposite wall sits a huge wardrobe next to a reading stand, displaying an open tome on what may have been the last page the Master read. An old-fashioned wall clock with visible parts and spinning characters counts the time, looking peculiarly like the Land of Departure. The sun shines through a window—though this would be an extra. All the windows on both sides of the castle are accounted for. You wouldn’t be able to see this room from the outside.

“Terra,” Aqua gasps, “look at these books.”

Most of them are titled in an ancient language. “They’re from Scala.”

“We could probably find Sora with these,” she says, flipping through one.

Some of the robes are sewn with patches of snake skin, others stained with faded off-yellow, each a varying size for a growing teenager. I take the largest—it smells like dust—and slip it on. Almost a perfect fit, though I would’ve preferred it longer.

“It looks good on you,” Aqua says, coming to my side.

I smile at the floor, imagining what the Master would have said, how large his smile would have been under that bushy mustache, like the day he gave me his belt buckle and told me it would be a nice touch. Aqua inspects a fraying seam on the shoulder.

“I can fix that,” she whispers. I let her pull it off me, and she dotingly folds it over the book she decides to take with her.

“Whoa.”

We drop our thoughts and turn to Ven, who’s helped himself to the wardrobe, stupefied at shelves of potions in glass flasks. Ugly colors, weirdly shaped, totally bizarre.

“These aren’t any potions I recognize,” Aqua says, placing her stack on the couch and investigating the shelf with her arms crossed.

None of them are labeled. “Maybe they’re lost knowledge,” I say, still thinking about her compliment. How often does she think I look good? “Can you imagine what kind of magic they’re packed with?”

Ven glances at the open book on the reading stand. “Let’s see.”

I join him, watching him flip through crudely drawn illustrations of odd shapes. We both snigger.

“Look through walls,” he reads before turning to the next page. “Neverending sweat. Turn a face blue. Glue lips together… This one says you can unglue them by washing your mouth with soap.”

“Lost knowledge.” Aqua scoffs.

“But who made them?” I ask. “The Master?”

Aqua rolls her eyes. “Please.”

“This is his secret room.”

“It looks like his handwriting,” Ven says, trying to keep his smile tiny. Trying. “Kind of.”

The O’s and the T’s certainly have their curls, just the way Eraqus would have done them. The Y’s are similar too, if a bit exaggerated and large. As Ven turns more pages, all of which are yellowed and chipped at the edges, I realize the drawings match the shapes of different vials, equipped with descriptions of colors.

“I think Ven’s right.”

Aqua throws a look (Forget it) and rolls her eyes again. It’s her favorite thing to do. “We’re talking about the Master here. He wouldn’t waste his time on something like this.”

“I got an idea!” Ven beams, nudging me on the elbow. “Why don’t we try some? Guess what they are before we look in the book?”

The only person who stiffens is Aqua.

“Look at her face.” Ven points. “She thinks we’re savages.”

Aqua doesn’t say anything, but it’s possible.

I cock my head. “If the Master were here, he would have gotten a kick out of this.”

“Terra—”

“Regardless of who made them.”

She drums her fingers on her forearm. “If it makes you happy,” she mumbles. It was subtle, but it was there.

“I’ll go first!” Ven leaps over the reading stand. There’s a rainbow of the most unsavory colors. The neon, the dull, the too realistic. “This one looks perfect.” He grabs a thin vial of liquid that I could mistake for vomit: a faded, rotten lime green, and drinks it all in one swish.

Following the last gulp, he withers to the floor, flailing and begging for it to stop.

I’m searching through the book for an answer.

Aqua throws herself to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

Ven giggles, cradling his stomach then scratching his back. “Don’t touch me.” He gasps in between painful howls of laughter. “It makes it worse.”

She carries his head to her lap anyway. She wouldn’t be Aqua if she isn’t indulging in some deep-seated instinct to assume we’re not healthy before assuring herself that we are.

I tap my finger onto a page. “Tickling potion. ‘Give this to your favorite person,’ it says.”

“I’m going”—Ven inhales—“to bring the Master”—inhales again—“back to life just to… kill him again.” He deteriorates into another round of wheezing, hugging himself tight and turning over into a fetal position.

“It’s too juvenile for the Master,” Aqua reminds me.

This page is written with the same suspicious calligraphy but I hold my tongue. To ease the look of worry on Aqua’s face, I step forward. “My turn.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aqua says.

“Relax. There’s no such thing as death by tickling.”

Aqua jerks to say something but stops herself. I’m guessing, Let me have at it and you’d think otherwise. Nothing that she’d say with Ven in the room.

Ven rubs his eyes and sighs—it’s shaky and long, but it’s an improvement. “Can I try another one?”

The first potion to catch my attention is this wide, stubby one filled with what looks like dark mud.

“Terra.”

Her warning makes me think of the slight possibility of developing diarrhea from this. I stare into her eyes as I swallow a gulp of it anyway, much to her horror and much to my enjoyment. Her expressions are a never-ending list of entertainment.

The potion is too smooth to be mud. It tastes spicy, a kick without any flavor. At first, I don’t feel anything, until a zap of electricity rides up my spine. Gooseflesh covers the backs of my calves up to my neck.

By the time I realize that I’m shivering, Aqua has my face in her hands. Her fingertips are warm when she brushes my hair.

“I’m fine.” A white cloud puffs out of my lips.

Ven is cackling. Not from the tickling, that may have stopped as soon as he got distracted, but he’s pointing his finger at me.

“As fine as a monkey walking naked into the snow,” she quips, wrapping the robe around my shoulders and rubbing my biceps.

“You can’t say, I told you so,” I say, my voice reverberating. “You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“I know you don’t regret it.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

She scoffs, smirking. Her eyes drop to some faraway conversation with herself.

“What are you thinking?” My teeth clatter.

She raises her eyebrows, playing coy.

“Whoever made this freezing potion,” Ven interrupts, having dragged himself to the book and is now leaning on it with both hands to stay stable, “wanted to test it. See if it could preserve vital organs.” He slowly nods (as if anything in this book makes sense).

“I guess we’ll find out if it worked when I die.” The tremors hurt, rupturing in blows down my torso. Aqua mutters a spell and a fiery glow halos her hands, hovering near my skin. My own personal hearth. I can’t help but imagine doing the same for her one day.

“Anyone else want to take a crack at it or should I drink another one?” Ven says.

Aqua glances over her shoulder and is actually considering it .

“No way,” I say.

She ignores me, reading each bottle as though they’d spill their secrets.

I lean towards her ear, though she’s already swatting me away. “Do you need help choosing one?”

She grabs a curvy vial that looks like it has hips and is filled to the brim with pure white. Defiantly turning to stick her nose up at me, she proudly drinks (a sip), grimacing through the taste. But she keeps tall. As long as the nose stays up.

“Oh shit,” Ven mutters.

“Language,” I say.

We wait for the effect. Nothing happens.

“What do you feel?” I ask.

“Nothing. I feel normal.”

“You’re a liar,” Ven says, throwing pages and scanning pictures, then rustling back to see if he skipped any.

“I am not. Maybe it’s expired.” As soon as she says it, her eyes go wide.

“That doesn’t make any sense. We had immediate effects. Maybe you should drink some more?”

“Don’t be silly.” Aqua shuts the bottle with its topper and gently places it back in its spot. “This was a foolish game, anyway.”

I have to scoff—that’s harsh, even coming from Aqua. “Then why go for it?”

“Because I admire you so much, Terra, when you’re brave enough to go after something I wouldn’t come near. Because I have to match you, maybe outmatch you sometimes, if you get on my nerves. Because sometimes I get scared that I’ve missed out on so much, and I can’t help but wonder if our childhood may be missing something. After everything we’ve lost, I don’t want to be scared of being silly anymore. But… What if I’m a boring slog? I don’t want to be a bore. I want to be daring and fun like you and Ven,” she says in rapid tossed word salad, her hands getting animated the more she talks, pressed to answer questions we didn’t ask.

Ven and I have nothing to say.

“I…” Aqua fusses with her sleeves. “I don’t know why I unloaded all of that.”

“Dramatic, much?” Ven says.

She fists her hips. “Dramatic is when you whine about your dreams so you can avoid chores thinking I wouldn’t call your bluff.”

Ven gapes. “Aqua, you’re mean.”

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She hides her face behind her hands, taking them to her heart and bowing. “Ven, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Something weird is going on.” I take the helm at searching the book, shuffling pages in chunks until I find one with stark white paint, in the shape of curves and waves. “Ven,” I whisper when I read the description. When he looks at me, his impish smile stretches with lists of ideas. I’m right there with him.

A stuffy silence fills the room when we recite it: Truth potion. The person who drinks it cannot help but to answer questions honestly.

Aqua steps back.

She bolts out of the room, knocking some of the books over.

“Get her!” Ven yells.

My muscles protest when I take off, stiff and sluggish as though I’ve experienced a whole winter outside. Aqua dashes through an open doorway and thrusts her arm out. The doors slam together, refusing to let me through. Ven’s going to have to find another way around. This won’t stop me and she knows it. I slip through a growing portal of darkness—the swirls that lick me would have been cold, but I’m numb—and I come out the other side. There’s certain tricks that come from being the poster boy for Darkness; it’s helpful in fights.

This part of the castle leads to the common areas. I know where she’ll be.

Aqua is splitting her attention between mixing batter in a large wooden bowl and running a soapy dishwash in the kitchen sink. When I approach her, she makes a point to put her finger on her lips.

Stars, it’s so hard not to laugh. “You’re not going to—”

She grunts, shaking her head furiously at me. No questions.

With my elbows propped on the countertop, I watch her scrub a dish. More than she normally does, actually, a little therapy session to take her mind off the fact that I’m relishing this moment. It’s satisfying how she suddenly remembers that she’s heating the oven, throwing herself across the kitchen to check the temperature.

She points to the spice cupboard next to me, and gets more enthusiastic when I open it. Apparently, she wants the cinnamon.

“I think vinegar would help better with what you’re doing.” I nod my head to the sink.

With the flick of her hand, water pouring out of the faucet changes direction and splashes me in the face.

“Am I annoying?” I snigger. I had to.

A tick in her shoulders—her body has no choice but to react. “That’s a stupid question.” Every word is pulled out of her teeth. Normally, she’d say, No, how could you even imagine that!

I dip my finger into the suds and plant one large print on her forehead in between the eyes, where she’s glaring so hard, they are crossed.

“How about now?”

“The worst,” she groans, slamming her hands into the bath. She takes a washcloth to dry them and wipes her forehead. Afterwards, she hands it to me.

“Think of it as an opportunity to get to know the real you.” I dry my face.

“You know me already.”

“Do I know everything, though?”

“No.” This potion doesn’t miss a beat.

Ven is panting by the time he enters, climbing a stool behind the counter and peering over the edge like a small child. He’s doing that on purpose, goading her into playing along. He asks me, “Can we?”

She groans.

I’m back on my elbows so I can look up at her and give her the same puppy dog eyes. Between glancing at the two of us, she can’t stand it. She wants to make us happy, she’s always been like that. Then again, she probably also wants to bash our heads together and leave us with headaches. One of the two would amuse her better.

“How about we ask her three questions only? We shouldn’t drive her crazy.”

She chuckles, that little smile of hers growing and reassuring and there. That’s my girl. Turning off the sink, she folds the washcloth and brings her hands together as though we’re in class. “Three questions each. Is that okay?”

Wow. “More than I asked for.”

“I already have one,” Ven says, sitting on his knees. “Do you hate Lea?”

“A little. But I’m working on it.”

Ven snorts and drops his face onto the counter. How many times have we asked her that and got the, Don’t be ridiculous. Like I said, he’s formidable. “I knew it.”

“He does his missions with the least amount of effort possible. Takes the easiest route to build his technique. Efficiency, he calls it,” she says, letting out the hot pressure she’s been keeping to herself with relief. “He also calls me, Teach. Who does that?”

Of all the times I’ve expected Aqua to snap at someone, she holds herself back when it comes to Lea, giving him tight smiles to zip it all up. “Ouch,” I say. “He’s been working so hard on a gift to thank you for working with Isa.”

She grimaces. “At least he has good taste in men? Isa does have a respectable work ethic.”

I pat her hand. Aqua’s usually the one to blow the kettle first, but there’s ways to connect people who may not see eye to eye the first time. Maybe I can be a buffer. “Next time you meet, I could go with you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she whispers.

“Lea would find it hilarious, honestly.” Ven waves his hand as if it’s no big deal. “I bet he’d give you a note with your gift. It would say, Thanks for everything. I hate you, too, Teach .”

“Okay, my turn,” I say, resting my chin on my palm. She studies me, too, though I’d like to believe I could keep a poker face. “Do you sometimes steal my cologne?”

“Yes.”

Her bluntness throws me back. “To wear ?”

“Yes,” she says as though it’s obvious and crosses her arms. Duh.

“Hey, that’s two questions,” Ven says.

“Sorry.” I take one more glance to see if I could gleam any more clues from her facial expressions, but she keeps her nose high. As long as the nose stays up.

“I have to think of a really good one.” Ven holds his chin, looking more serious than he’s been since the Keyblade War. “Ever farted then blamed Terra for it?”

“Ugh.” Aqua quivers, her knuckles bleaching. She throws her face over her shoulder and stares scars into the wall. “Yes of course, didn’t we all?”

“Come on, I could’ve answered that,” I say (though after all these years, it’s validating to know it’s not a blame game anymore). I nudge her with my shoulder. “Justice does feel pretty good.”

“Ask me something better,” she says after smacking my bicep. Her face is as ripe as sunburn.

Questions that give her more control. I could do that. “Is there anything you’ve been needing to say but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

The tension in her face drops. It leaves something pale and disappointed in its place, a faraway look. I shouldn’t have asked; whatever this fear is, it’s meant for me. “Yes,” she whispers.

I stand pin-straight, the air in the room thinning, as though the Darkness has opened a hole and is sucking all the sun away. Ven does the same. The other Keybearers will stare at their cuticles, or fumble and cut themselves out of the group when they’re upset or hurt or sorry. Eraqus forged a protocol out of us. When we witness or cause harm, we recite what we’ve done and its effects. We bow when we apologize.

So far, we’ve been home for one hundred and seventy five days. Never expected it to take this long. I open my mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” she says softly. “I know what you’re going to ask.”

I would have pleaded with her to let me apologize, and I would have met her dismissal anyway: No, Terra, it’s not necessary. We’ve been through it all. We should enjoy what we have. She means well; the relaxation and the mundane tasks are good for all of us. Even when we were younger, Aqua was generous at her expense, sparing nuts from her brownie to bake them into a tarte, knowing I hate brownies. She’d look at the brighter side of things (More fudge for me!), and stick her tongue out. She’s been my smile, but she gives too much, and we still need this conversation.

“So what is the answer?”

She lowers her eyes to the counter, then wills them back up at me. “I blame myself.”

Aqua.

Ven sighs. “I should give you guys some space.” He treads away, keeping his footsteps minimal, meticulously turning the handle so it’d make the least noise possible. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I see him press his ear against the door before it shuts. If he’s going to listen in, that’s fine with me. Whatever she and I have to say to each other would affect all three of us.

“You blame—”

“I would be… lying.” She simpers, shaking her head. “If I said I never blamed you. There were moments I did. How and why. But I had enough endless nights where those reasons circled back to me. What I could have done to make it better. To save you,” she croaks, wiping her eyes. “To be a best friend. You needed that. Ven needed one, too. And I wasn’t.”

Aqua scrubs the already-clean counter with that dry washcloth, creating a rhythm that fills the silence. The oven is now heated, and I take the cinnamon and pour two spoonfuls of it into a beaker, our backs to each other. Add cups of sugar for her, some cocoa, a pinch of vanilla while she drills the grouts in between the tiles.

“I wasn’t much of a best friend myself, either.”

“You were hurt and defeated.”

“I was stupid.”

“You are not.”

I scoff, reaching over and pausing her. My smile is meant to be gentle, but it feels so plastic. “Aqua, do you think I’m stupid?”

“I don’t.”

I’ve expected her to half-smirk, where she tells me, Sometimes. “Really?”

“You overthink,” she simply puts. “But you assume the best. You know, that makes you a better person than me.”

Ha. No. “No. I’m not better than you. Not by a long shot.”

She hums. “I’m just correct more often.”

“But I left you.”

“And I kicked your trust in me in the shins. Are we going to keep count of all the unfriendly things we’ve done? How different would it have been if I didn’t accuse you of things that weren’t true?”

“How different would it be if I had just stayed with you?” I realize I shouldn’t have asked the moment I finish.

In a trance, Aqua inspects the beaker with the spices and sugars I’ve concocted, deciding what I’d done is good enough and dumping them into her unmixed dough, stirring, giving her hands something to do, while I wait for the onslaught. “Probably avoided the last twelve years.” I wince. “Or it could have made no difference. We could have ended up the same, or worse, or better.”

I say, “You don’t believe that,” before stopping myself.

“I was taught to respect Xehanort, too.”

“We were taught to recognize the Darkness.”

“Which I also failed at.”

“Clearly.”

“I did. I looked for it inside you where I should have placed my faith instead. I regret every moment I did.” She puts the bowl down, a slap of wood against marble. “We don’t help ourselves by obsessing about it a million times.”

“But you’d help me if you let me apologize. To you especially.”

She whips around with nothing to retort, fresh tears short of falling. “To me especially?”

“Ven deserves something of his own. Please.”

She drops her hands together. Swallows. Nods.

I bow, watching droplets land near my shoes. “I should have been there for you. I should have been stronger. I should have realized what was happening sooner, and I thought I did. I thought I did what I could, and I was there with you in the Graveyard, but it wasn’t enough, and for all the years I didn’t know, I should have found a way to learn and pay you back for what you’ve sacrificed for me. I should have eased your pain, I should have brought you back to the Light. I was focused on myself when I should have lifted you up, and I disappeared when you needed me most. I should have done more, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Silence passes the time and I look up to see what she thinks. She’s wetting the washcloth, dabbing my eyes. “Do you feel better?” she asks.

“Kind of.” I’m beat up after taking all those shots, but I’m lighter, free to breathe without the nagging suspicion that I don’t deserve to.

“One of the things I wished for when I was in the Realm of Darkness was to smell sugar again. I wanted to hear you give me a list of reasons why it’s bad for my body, and I wanted to tell you why it’s good for the heart.” I let her dab my cheeks, the dampness frigid against my skin. “Now that I’m back home, I don’t need any other wish granted.” She sniffs, about to pour the batter into its mold, but then flicks the oven off exasperatedly. “I forgot. I have to wait for the dough to rise.” For some reason that finally breaks her. It tears me apart as well, and I have to hold her shoulder so we don’t rip down the middle.

“Please don’t cry,” I say, offering the washcloth. “I care too much about you to sit here and watch you cry.”

She stops. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” I let go and stare at her blended mix, smooth as cream.

“That’s not fair,” she says, throwing the washcloth onto the counter. “I have no choice with what I say. You could at least answer me honestly.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you cry anymore.” Nor do I want to tell her the truth. Instead I hide it on the back of my neck, where I rub into it so it doesn’t spill over. And yet, that makes me feel more guilty now than I have in weeks.

“I should make you swallow a truth potion.”

“I wanted us to be equals.” She saves her usual response and waits for me to continue. I close my eyes. “Go through all the same experiences with you. We were supposed to stick together, do everything together. Failing the Mark of Mastery took all of that away from me. Or at least it felt that way at the time. And I wanted more. I wanted…” My hand finds nothing as it waves in the air searching for the words to spell it out. “I don’t know what to say. Everything I’ve done and didn’t do pale in comparison to you.”

“We’re not doing this. We’re not comparing ourselves.”

“No, I mean…” What the stars am I supposed to say? “You’re more important to me than you understand.”

“And you’re just as important to me.”

“No… it’s different with me.” And I’ve said too much, Aqua holding her elbows and expecting me to continue. There’s no other trail to go down than the one I’ve started. “I meant what I said at the preliminary feast.”

“Excuse me?”

The feast where the Master celebrated our achievements, announcing that we’re at last ready for the final test. Where Ven and I squeezed ourselves into suits and he complained the entire night about being itchy. Where I spent it staring at her dress. When I said she looked pretty and then avoided her for the rest of the party.

I don’t say anything about that night and she hears something anyway.

“That’s why…” She glosses over me with wide eyes as the realization makes me look like a stranger. “You should have said something to me.”

“You can’t be serious.” I wave her away.

“But all these years, I didn’t know.”

Good, if we’re talking about the same thing. “I couldn’t have told you anything.”

“Then how was I supposed to figure that out?”

What are we talking about now? “What exactly did you expect me to do?”

“You should have kissed me.” She covers her mouth, wincing at what slipped out. She keeps her chin high anyway, casually crossing her arms and pretending that her face hasn’t reddened the deep shade staining her cheeks. As long as it stays up.

We pass an unspoken conversation between each other, frozen and unwilling to move.

Did you just—?

I did.

I manage to exhale. “You’re right.”

There’s a moment of shock on her face before I hold her and lean forward. It happens so quick that I don’t register what she tastes like before I realize that I’m clamping my hands on her biceps, two bent rods leaning on each other.

“That was awful,” I say.

“No, it’s—” she laughs.

“Bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I always thought it’d go different.”

“Always?”

Well, I’ve run out of words. “I guess.” When I let her go, she reaches for my chest and lifts onto her toes, kissing me back but with care and intention this time, filling my lips with hers. They taste like Aqua, smell like her shampoo. They’re softer than her hands and face, sweet enough for me to want more. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my hands until I settle them in the sway of her back. I let her take the lead, take another kiss, tug at my neck. She trembles from the frozen touch of my skin and from the hold of my hands on her body. My muscles are getting warm, too warm but I like it and I think she knows. Earlier this morning, I held her this close, but this is closer. It’s easy and difficult at the same time.

Then I remember and pull away. “Ven is listening to us.”

There’s a bump on the door as it’s pushed when he kicks himself off, heavy footsteps running down the hall.

Aqua looks like she’s touched feces. “Ven!”

I follow her, wondering if she’s going to summon her Keyblade but that’s because of how fast she’s walking, like she has a mission, no Heartless left standing. We turn a corner, down a hall of antique vases and ancient cupboards carved from our first masters. Wood creaks nearby.

She holds her palm up like she’s holding a chalice, and flames lick the cupboard closest to us until it rattles and spits Ven out. He scrambles onto his feet and brandishes his finger, testing our distance as if he’d poke us in a duel.

“I still have my last question and it’s in your best interest not to threaten me.”

“Oh really? Tell me again how you’re going to protect yourself when you sleep,” she says.

He grounds himself before giving his performance of, “Do you want to see Terra naked?”

Aqua trembles from her head to her knees, her cheeks blotting a strong shot of red. She throttles forward and cups both of her hands onto her mouth like she’s going to sneeze. What sounds like a loud goose honk blows out as the answer.

“That was awesome.” Ven slaps his thigh, turning on his heel and leaving a trail of giggles.

I’m scared to say anything, in case she honks at me. So I wait. There’s just no way to make myself seem small, or leave without disturbing her. Maybe if I hold my breath, she’d feel like she has privacy. She’s panting, giving me side glances but never looking directly at me, that nose of hers wilting towards the floor.

I open my mouth to say something—

She growls and I clutch my lips together. Aqua pulls her Gummiphone out of her pocket, jabbing a message.

Mine rings.

Aqua

Let’s find a potion that dyes his hair pink

She clears her throat, before flipping it over and typing again.

Aqua

Don’t tell him it was my idea

“Okay,” I say, testing the word. Even though I soften it, it still bangs like a gong. I don’t know what else to do except smile at her. She grimaces back, no doubt the last several words spoken still ringing in her ears, just as they do in mine. I even hesitate when I hold her elbow—would it ever be the same, or will every touch mean something different? I don’t voice those questions.

She moves by reflex: first to flinch, then to hold me by my elbow, mirroring me, which isn’t the most comfortable position. She follows my forearm to my hand, knitting our fingers together, and we stand there, adjusting how they fit. Mine are long and thick, dwarfing and burying hers, an oversized pouch for a gem. They fit perfectly, I think.

“We can find something better,” I say, looking for anything to distract her. “There’s also those books to read, and the robe to fix. The brownies you’re making—”

“It’s supposed to be cinnamon bread,” she mumbles.

Yech. “Nothing I’d eat anyway.”

Her chuckle is partial, contorted and pressed.

“I can make some beef jerky for everyone. Spice it up,” I say. She hides an amused whimper behind her hand and massages her cheek. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

She nods, offering me a relieved but crooked smile.

I don’t know if we should walk the castle hand in hand, so I splay it between her shoulder blades and lead the way. We walk in silence, and I’m okay with that if it helps her. No questions, her head up high like everything is back to normal. We steal glances and do a terrible job at hiding our giggles behind small talk, which is botched and jittery anyway, but there’s not much to say without asking, So… how old were you when you realized?

One of these nights, I’ll tell her I’d like to see her naked, too, when the time is right and the truth comes easier.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfic #kh fanfic #oooooooh #here is my attempt at domestic fluff #what is everyone going to think of me #my fic

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

portland

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2731

music: silently by axel flovent, tear in my heart by twenty one pilots

You got tired of driving at around two in the morning. Somehow Kennewick did not satisfy neither of you in terms of sleeping. Perhaps it was the road, nervousness of traveling, and Kai’s indifference about the current situation you got stuck in, but as soon as he snuggled against you at eleven o’clock, you felt all the sleep has escaped you like a butterfly that leaps away. He was already deep in sleep, when you decided you wanted to drive at night, and Parker was sorely unhappy about getting out of bed. While you still had moral high ground as leverage on him, while it worked, you elected to use it. Then, a couple of hours later, the tiredness returned in full swing, and you stopped in the middle of the highway (the liberating truth was that you could now stop at any point while driving, without even thinking) and made him switch seats with you.

The portable loudspeaker he had manufactured out of a big boombox was incredibly loud and workable, and you prepped it just below the windshield. As you drifted into sleep you were thinking about how practically useful this boy can actually be, and how underrated his skills were back in the real world. Even without magic he was extremely handy. He was an amazing cook, he was insanely masterful with electronics, he was more savvy about the internet than you, the child of the web world...

You woke up because he whispered right into your ear, the most gentle order you’ve ever received in your life,

“Wake up now”.

Your neck ached, crooked unnaturally, but, as you opened your eyes, you saw what he woke you up for. Kai seemed relatively unaffected, probably having seen this a million of times; perhaps there was already an alarm clock in his head going off when it was the time for sunset. It was a first for you, though. You were already in Portland, and the car was lazily crawling along the street as the sleepy houses passed you by. Bright pink and raspberry was blooming in the sky indicating the new day, again. The light was so intense that, when you caught the reflection of yourself in the rearview mirror, you saw the shade of red on your own face. Your eyes looked sleepy and foggy.

“Are we there yet?”

“Yeah. Are you hungry? It’s almost time for breakfast”.

You looked at the electronic wristwatch you nicked from an Epson store. It was a real nineties neat cute wrist watch, and it had lighting button which drove you insane.

“It’s not even five yet. You’re always hungry”.

“I’ve been driving for nearly three hours. It’s draining. You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time, but that’s okay, I’ll just avoid the holes, so you sleep fine”, he declared. You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He gestured towards the speaker.

“That was a good song”.

“It’s my car”, you argued benevolently, feeling very kind after three hours’ sleep. Due to the fact that Kai has been decent enough to just drive the car without waking you up. And the fact he even turned down the music a little.

“I stole it”.

“You didn’t steal it. It had no owner”, Kai replied.

He stopped the car in a romantic gesture, and you two drowned in the morning silence, ever quieter than it even was before. The wind lay still, and no bugs buzzed in the grass. You left the car just to be in the moment, to step on the ground and feel its matter, and raised your face to the sky. This was all for you and you only, and that was the first time you asked yourself,

why do they even consider this torture?

The Parker house turned out to be more like a palace. Your head swung back and forth comparing Kai with the wedding cake looking family dwelling, trying to picture him on the porch. There was a traditional old oak that yearned swings, and the big lawn, greener than that of the Salvatore’s possession. There was whiteness of the façade and the depth of the invisible basement.

Soon Kai crawled up the stairs, and sighed, in the yellowish glow of the waking skies.

“Welcome back home”, he murmured. You tried reading his face to see if it’s hard for him, but then reminded yourself he’s been here already, probably many times.

He’s been suspiciously tolerable these first days, you thought to yourself quietly as you wandered wordless through the living room. The first red flag fluttered in your mind when you threw a look at the banisters of the stairs leading up, and saw two ropes tied to them; they hung down, empty, with loops, like dead cat tails.

“Kai, why is it here?” you asked. The boy was already head first into the fridge in the kitchen.

He walked back to you, and sighed knowingly.

“Oh, yes. They kept the house as I left it at night. As a reminder. Go up the stairs, there’s still blood on the walls, and everything. Let’s go”.

He suddenly grabbed your hand with determination, and you sensed, on the run, like he needed to hold it. Not to guide you. You ran up the stairs, and you threw a quick look at the living room, amazed at the normality of it. One would think Malachai Parker’s house would look horrific, but his tragedy was very American. Pretty cover, bloody insides. The living room had two big couches (big family, it used to be), a very curious L shaped coffee table, and a fireplace. On the shelf above, there was a neat row of photographs of the family: everyone but Malachai, of course. They wished to forget he existed, for one reason or another. Kai’s hand led you on and you went into the long, spacious wooden hall of the second floor out of three: the blood on the walls was fresh, it glistened in the first cloud light. The patterns were thick and wide, like Kai’s been deliberately pouring it around; on the floor, there was a faint trace of his bloodied steps and something else, like he was dragging... a baseball bat? with him.

You tried not to step on the blood. The little window at the end of the hall was covered with a curtain, so it was bleak.

“Here”, he said enthusiastically. It was obvious Kai has been psyched that someone would share the whole thing with him. No matter what part of prison it was: whether the beautiful sunrises of Washington, or the evidence of the massacre he conducted in his own house.

“Wow, whose room was it?”

“The twins. Luke and Liv”, he pushed the door to let you in. The bed was turned on the side, and there was a puddle of blood under it. The wardrobe was thrashed.

“This is where I stabbed Jo. She hid them from me with the cloaking spell. I made her talk...” Kai muttered. His eyes were opaque, and he was focused on the memory. His sight shifted under the window.

“The-ere it is”, the witch stepped to the dark spot and picked up the bat, wrapping his fingers around the handle. There was blood on the tip of it. He swung the bat in the air in a motion that made you understand he could be a baseball star. Could have been.

“And the banisters? Who was there?”

“I hung Ashley and Sam”, he said, putting the bat back against the wall. You observed the room. His siblings, they all had names. Ashley, Sam... those who made it to the future, the twins and his own personal enemy, Josette, felt more real because you have met them. You were there when Kai merged with Luke, you witnessed his death. But to think that some of the Parkers were left in the ninety-four, hung down from the stairs, and they were children who had names... Ashley and Sam. You didn’t even know whether Sam was a boy or a girl. You asked him.

“They were best friends, Sam and Ash. Samantha was two years older than Ashley, and she was so uptight I think somebody would have killed her one way or another. She was unbearable. So bitter she didn’t have a twin, she told everybody Ashley was her age, and that they were twins, although everyone in the coven knew they weren’t”.

“She was just a child, Kai. She wanted to be a part of this important thing, too”, you shrugged.

“Yeah, so did I. You wanna see my parents’ bedroom?”

He probably saw it in your eyes that you were slowly growing anxious about the whole murder night replay.

“What did you do to your mom?”

“I stabbed her in the throat. She had to go first, she was a very powerful witch”, Kai said quietly, watching you closely. He was cruel in a way, leading you deeper into the bleak reality of his, trying you, curious as to how much you can take.

“I made a mistake with dad. Should’ve stabbed him, too, but I thought I’d be untrivial, and I poisoned him. Which obviously backfired right into my face”.

Kai put his hand through his dark hair, and you realized his eyes are glowing nervously.

“What made you snap?”

“When our birthdays were coming up, I realized they’d never let us merge. Even Jo herself didn’t want it. Just so you understand, merging and even dying, as a Gemini twin, is the biggest event of your life. Even if you lose, you’re not gone. You live through your twin. You give them your power”.

You weren’t saying anything. He went on,

“You think I’m inherently evil?” there wasn’t a trace of indignation in his voice; just sheer curiosity. He never had a chance to ask that anybody. He never had this conversation. He just didn’t know at all. “They always told me I was”.

“There’s no such thing as evil, Kai. It’s a tale created for kids, to make them afraid of giving in to their instincts. There’s only pain and its consequences”.

You looked away not to seem too invested. You wondered how one can let a fellow human go on for nearly fifty years with such a grave misconception about themselves; how one can allow such violence upon their own child. Violence and negligence so intense it makes them act out so aggressively, so loudly. Every single blood stain, every broken wooden thing, every swing of a bat in the hands of now twenty-two year old Malachai, was a cry, not a roar of evil deed. He was so disfigured. He was so wounded he had to inflict pain on others to be heard. And yet they didn’t hear anything except their own screams.

You wanted to ask him the same question, am I bad for liking you so much? But you knew he had no answer. Kai was very knowledgeable about many things; he understood many things you didn’t, but he knew nothing about the philosophy of morale. He had no deep feelings, he had no deep core in him. It was burnt clean long time ago.

Am I evil for not feeling sorry for the kids you hung from the banisters?

Am I bad for rooting for you when you were merging with Luke?

Am I bad for siding with you against my oldest friends?

Am I bad for being the only one who gave you the benefit of the doubt, just for the sake of being the only one?

After all, it takes just one person to keep someone from breaking. But when Malachai finally killed his family, when he reached the breaking point to never be innocent again, you were still a month away from being born.

“Take the books outside”, you asked him.

Kai looked up from the table. He was reading diligently, not skipping pages, and watching him got tedious after three hours. While he was on it, you trod through the front and back yard; made sandwiches; studied the pictures of the kids; sneaked into the basement and got horrified at the sight of Kai’s ‘room’ there.

(Yeah, it became my room for a while, he yapped from the kitchen. He laughed at your eyes, widened in horror, yeah, it was real pain. They kept me there when they had people over... pretended I don’t exist)

His real room used to be upstairs, underneath the roof, but it became Jo’s space eventually, and there was no trace of Malachai there. It was sad how there were so very few signs of the oldest child in the house. No posters, no shoes at the door, no jackets, no used tissues, no sports awards. No clothes, no mess, no boy things, no magazines, no CDs, no skateboard. There was a TV in the basement, and a bed, a nightstand, and a couple of comic books in the drawers of it, and you felt there was a huge chunk of Kai missing, as if they had got rid of all the things reminding of him, as if it was him who died.

“Take the books outside”.

“Why?”

“I’m tired. I want to sleep. Let’s go into the city, find a hotel or a big house, and you can read there”.

Kai looked around as if saying, isn’t it the house enough?

You didn’t know how to explain to him that staying in this place was terrible. Kai clearly missed this place although you didn’t know what he was holding on to. The family he missed was clearly an illusion. He craved the real bond, the concept of loving community, not the actual Parker people.

“I want to burn down this house”.

He tilted his head and his mouth twitched.

“Have you ever done it?”

“Why would I burn my own house?”

“You’ve spent eighteen years here, and...”

“Look”, he put up his palms defensively, “obviously, you are a very creative individual with a different way of thinking, and I haven’t done half of the things you come up with, while I was here, but if you’re gonna ask me this question every time you have an idea...”

“You know fire is cleansing, right? You should know, you’re able to control it. Isn’t fire an important element of witchery?”

“Mhm”.

He wasn’t offended by the idea. He was just a little susprised.

As Kai stepped outside, bringing the last books into the trunk of the (ugly) Buick parked in the driveway, you watched him there on the lawn. Maybe he really was the cancer his family made him to be. He looked like a hyena looking around for a dying animal to chew on. He despised this place, and its lightness, and the fact his surviving relatives thought of the exquisite way of reminding him about what he’s done. And he went around busily, like a bee mama, at the same time.

The house still reeked of blood, and frankly, you didn’t know how he could even think about sleeping here.

You threw a match on the couch, and another one down into the basement. You knew the house would restore as soon as midnight comes, but by that time you’ll be far away from here. Wherever the books send you to.

You’ve never seen a house on fire so close. The heat was burning your face, and you knew it burns Kai, too, so you pulled on his hand to make him step away.

“What sucks the most is that I had every right to merge with her”, Kai said suddenly. You had to step closer to hear him over the immense screech and cracking of the house.

There was deep, pure hatred in his voice as he spoke about his sister. You realized that his bitterness about her betrayal is still fresh, and the merge did nothing to heal it. It was personal. She was his to kill.

“I would’ve shown her if she only had given me a chance. You know? Nobody believed I could win, because I’m a siphoner. But if they only gave me a chance, I would’ve tried my best and I would’ve been a good coven leader”.

“You are already”, you said. Kai squeezed your fingers with his stiff palm.

“Once we get out”, he said, dead eyes staring into you, “there’ll be no coven. I will end every single one of them”.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine #vampire diaries

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clarabadger · 4 years

Text

Meddling Siblings

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader Warning: Fluff, a pair of mischievous twins (huh, deja vu) Summary: Oliver’s older twin siblings are determined to get the two of you together. Chaos ensues. Word Count: 2478 words Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long! It was my exam week when I got this request and I’ve spent like three days on it. I hope it meets to your expectations!

The spring sunlight filtred through the mahogany coloured curtains, it was the first day of Easter holidays and you were looking forward to spending a week with the Wood family. Oliver had asked you to come over and help him come up with some new strategies for the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match in May. After exchaning some letters with your parents, they had agreed to your plans. The train whistled as it arrived at King's Cross Station. "Y/N look," Oliver called you to look out the window, he had spotted his parents amongst the thick crowd of families. "Thomas and Eleanor have come too." Thomas and Eleanor were Oliver's older twin siblings, and both had jobs working at the Ministry. "Do Ministry workers have Easter holidays?" "Dunno, maybe they just wanted to visit," Oliver shrugged, and swung his bag over his shoulder.

Thomas and Eleanor Wood had, in fact, not just wanted to visit. After catching wind of their younger brother's best friend coming to spend a week at their house, they had immediately filed for a week long holiday to conduct their master plan. They had met you when you were in your third year, and they in their sixth, after seeing you interact with their younger brother they knew that the two of you would be absolutely adorable together. Unfortunately the twins hadn't been able to bring the two of you together while they were attending Hogwarts, to many exams to prepare for and N.E.W.T's to study for.

This was the perfect chance to bring the two of you together, and to make you both confess your feelings for each other.

You were swallowed in Mrs Wood's hug the moment you stepped down onto the platform. "Y/N, it's wonderful to see you again dear," she affectionately pat your cheek, before giving her youngest son the same treatment. "Hello Y/N, haven't seen you since you were in your fourth year," Henry walked up to you innocently, taking your trunk in one hand and hugging you with his free arm. "You haven't changed much though," Eleanor teased as she ruffled your hair with her hand. "My baby brother still giving you headaches with his Quidditch obsession?" "It's not an obsession! It's dedication!" "Not really, I like coming up with strategies," you smiled, it was true, you'd do anything to help Gryffindor win the House Cup. It would show those emerald-robed Slytherin's that Gryffindor was actually the best house. Eleanor looped her arm in yours as she led you to the car, followed closely by Oliver and his parents, who were amicably speaking to their son about his school year. "Either way, I'm happy you've come to spend the holidays with us," Eleanor grinned, though there was something behind her smile that hinted to something other than joy, "it'll give us some time to catch up, though knowing Ollie, he'll keep you busy with his nonsense." "It's not nonsense! It's dedication!", came Oliver's indignant cry which was quickly shushed by his mother, who promptly began asking about his upcoming N.E.W.T's next year. "You work at the Ministry don't you?" you asked Eleanor, "Which department are you a part of again?" "I was thinking that if we have Angelina over here, it'll let her intercept the Quaffle from Alicia," you sipped on the strawberry milkshake Mrs. Wood had made earlier that evening. "When Cho finds the snitch and goes for it, have one of the Weasley twins send a bludger her way, make her lose sight of it and then Harry can go get it, 'course he needs to be careful too." Oliver was thankful that you were writing all of this down, he hadn't really been paying much attention. In fact, he was more preocupied with you, and the way your nose twitched as you took a sip of the milkshake, or the way you moved the pencil swiftly over your notebook to draw the strategy you had meant. While you were focused on the strategies that came to your mind, and Oliver found himself noticing every detail about you. The Wood twins were in the dining room, forging their plan to get their younger brother or his best friend to confess their feelings. It seemed that morning could not come any sooner.

Mrs. Wood whistled as she mixed the pancake batter with a wave of her wand. Mr. Wood was reading the Daily Prophet, as Eleanor mixed a spoonful of sugar in her tea and Thomas was rehearsing his lines in his head. You and Oliver sat down at the table as Mrs. Wood placed a plate of pancakes on the table. Oliver yawned as he ran his hand to smoothen out his bed hair, and Mr. Wood eagerly snatched up one of the thin, flat cakes. "So, Y/N," Mr. Wood swallowed the mouthful of pancake, "do you and Olver have anything planned for today?" "I don't think we do, we might finish the strategies," you sipped your tea, "maybe test them out if we have time." Eleanor gave Thomas a look. "Maybe later I can come and help you," Thomas grinned, "I'd hate for my darling younger brother to knock you off your broom and bruise such a pretty face." You felt your face go a bit warmer. "You won't have to worry about that," Oliver clenched his jaw, "and didn't you say you had a meeting with the Minister of Magic today?" Thomas coughed into his fist, slightly frightened by the steely look his younger brother gave him. "Yes, I do," he glanced over at the clock, "look at the time, I have to get ready." Eleanor pressed her palm gently against her face in frustration.

"What was that?" Eleanor confronted her twin, "that was the worst flirting I've ever seen." "It was your idea, maybe you should've done it," Thomas huffed, "and did you see the look Olly gave me? I've never seen him look so scary." Thomas shivered as he recalled the dark glare. "Well, at least I have plan B." Eleanor opened up her trunk and pulled a black potion vial out of it. "What is that?" Thomas asked, and noted the pearly sheen of the potion when Eleanor opened it so he could take a look. "Amortentia? Don't you think that a bit much, won't Y/N fall in love with you if you make them drink it?" "I'm not going to use it on them, just going to make them smell it." "And then what?" "See if they slip up when I ask them about what they're smelling," Eleanor smiled, "once Y/N says that the Amortentia smells like Olly, it'll get him to confess." "What if it doesn't work?" Eleanor frowned, "it will."

Eleanor spotted you and Oliver sitting on the couch, holding onto one of the strategy books you had brought with you. "Y/N, I need your help," Eleanor fakes a whiny tone to her voice. "With what?" "I brewed this potion for the department, but I don't know if I've done it right," she pouted. "How can you not? You're perfect at potion making!" Oliver said in disbelief, "Hush, little brother, I didn't ask you." "Well what potion is it?" Eleanor handed you the vial, "just smell it." You gave her an odd look, before popping open the top and taking a whiff. "What do you smell?" "Firewood, petrichor and..." you stopped, cheeks flushing red, "this is Amortentia isn't it?" "No! Well, yes, but what else do you smell?" "You've brewed it just fine El, don't know why you needed me to test it," you quickly passed the potion back to her, and buried your face into the book you had been reading. Eleanor muttered a curse under her breath.

Thomas hung up his coat as he returned from the meeting. He laughed as he found his sister muttering to herself on the sofa, "Didn't work did it?" "It almost did," she denied. "Well now what do we do?" "Now we put your divination skills to good use."

The following day, Thomas found you sitting on the porch holding a cup of tea between your palms and turning it right and left, following the movements of your head. "What are you doing?" "Divination homework," you sighed, marking off something in your notebook, "Trewlaney wants us to read our tea leaves for a week and analyse them." "Ah, Tessomancy, I was rather good when I was still at Hogwarts," Thomas sat next to you on the porch, "let me see." You handed him the tea cup, and he began looking at it intently. "Well, that's fun," he grinned, "What is?" "If I remember correctly, which I do," he leaned in playfully, "says here, that the person who has been on your mind recently returns your affections." He mentally did a victory dance as your face turned red. "Yeah, that is funny," you cleared your throat, "thank you Thomas, I'll make sure to write that down." "No problem, but maybe you should tell this special person how you feel?" "..."

"Didn't work, I don't think they're gonna tell Olly anything." "Bollocks." "They did say that they were going to start testing out their strategies tomorrow." Eleanor beamed, "I know just what to do."

"This isn't a good idea," Thomas whispered, "what if they get hurt?" "They won't, Olly will catch them," Eleanor pulled her wand out her pocket, "now shut up, before they hear you." The twins had taken refuge behind some bushes on the side of their house. You and Oliver were already in the air, testing out your chaser strategy. As you dived down for the Quaffle, Eleanor muttered a jinx to knock you off your broom. With a surprised yelp, your hand let go of the handle and you felt yourself pummelling towards the ground. "Y/N!" Oliver followed you on his broom and reached out his hand to grab the front of your shirt, slipping off his own broom and landing straight on top. "Sorry! You alright?" Oliver pushed himself up on his shoulder, and took in the sight of you below him. Hair messy from the fall and a flushed face at the position you two caught yourselves in. Oliver felt his heartbeat thrum in his ears, eyes following down to your slightly parted lips. Slowly, he leaned down. His hidden siblings held their breath from their hiding spots. And then... "Lunch is ready!" Mrs Wood popped out of the house, startling Oliver off of you. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" "No mum, Y/N just fell of their broom," Oliver brushed the dirt of his trousers and held out a hand to help you up. You walked back into the house with red cheeks and hearts threatening to burst of your ribs. The twins groaned and got up from behind the bushes. "What were the two of you doing there?" there mother spoke, a baffled look on her face. "Matchmaking!" "Oh, I see.”

"What about Fred and George?" "What about them?" Oliver gave you a confused look. "I mean, what if we get them to send a bludger Roger's way, block his usual path." "That could work." Suddenly the two of you were pushed to the side, and into the closet in the hallway. "Bloody hell!" Oliver helped as his back made contact with the wall. The closet doors swung shut, and he heard his brother muttering the locking charm. "Thomas! Let us out!" Oliver banged a fist on the locked door as you stared at it in shock. "No! Not until one of you says what needs to be said!" Pure silence filled the small closet and the hallways outside. "I don't hear anything!" Eleanor mocked in a sing-song voice. "El? You're there too?" you asked. Not receiving a reply. None of you spoke a word for the next minute. On the other side of the closet, the twins had their ears pressed up against the door, in case the two decided to start whispering. "What are you two doing?" Mrs Wood turned the corner. "We are getting either Olly or Y/N to confess," Thomas hushed to his mother, not wanting to his brother and their best friend to hear. Mrs Wood nodded and joined her children, pressing up her own ear against the door. The only sound that filled the closet were your and Oliver's slightly nervous breathing. Neither of you knew what to do. "Come on, just let us out please!" you had resorted to begging. "Please just let us out Tom," Oliver ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Oh for the love of Christ!" Thomas groaned, "Just bloody tell them Oliver!" "Tell me what?" you asked, quietly. Oliver cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his feet staring at them, and not uttering a single word. Oliver's family held their breaths on the other side of the door. Internally screaming at their youngest's inability to express his amorous affections for his best friend. Your eyes lit up in recognition, perhaps they wanted you to acknowledge how good your strategies were, Oliver had barely mentioned them in front of his siblings. "I don’t expect you to feel the same way-" you began. "Oh thank god." You froze. Your best friend froze, before his eyes widened. "Not as in oh thank god I hate that you love me! I mean thank god-" "Who said anything about love," you bristled. "I mean I love you!" You both froze all over again. Oliver pressed his hands against his face, groaning quietly. Before speaking: "You're the most brilliant person I've ever met," he said, "your Quidditch strategies are incredible, and you come up with the best ideas", he frowned as he heard his older siblings groan and what sounded suspiciously like his mother muttering under their breath. He took in a deep breath, "My mind used to be all about Quidditch and the team and winning the house cup. But then I met you, and now it's not all about Quidditch, it's about your face, and your voice and you in general, and when you're around I can barely think about anything else." Oliver looks at your face, eyes silently seeking yours in the dim closet. "Please say something," he begs. "I thought were going to talk about our Quidditch skills." you muttered dumbly. "Well," he gulped, "we didn't. Do you like me back?" You stepped forward, and leaned in, softly touching your lips against his before leaning back. "Does that answer your question?" Oliver grins, and kisses you again. "Did they do it? Did they confess?" "I have no idea what's going on in there." "Did you two charm the door locked?" You pressed your face against Oliver's neck as you heard the conversation outside the closet door. "We did!" Oliver calls out, "Snogged and everything, can you let us out now?" The sound of cheering was your only answer.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 4 years

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Next Chapter | Project Masterlist

Word Count || 3.5k Author’s Note || These first two excerpts I’ll be posting aren’t exactly chapters, but they’re not quite a prologue either--primarily because of their length. But it’s an introduction to the story and the world and the characters nonetheless. After these first two parts the excerpts will be much shorter; I can’t be giving you all the information about the project ;)

Anyway, enjoy!

Kerri Stevens gripped the edges of the lectern and braced herself for a fight.

“We are on record for review of disciplinary case D08-493214. Please present yourself for the panel,” said a man in a charcoal gray suit, his voice echoing through the spacious, mostly-empty chamber.

From their perch at the elevated, curved table, the four members of Kerri’s disciplinary panel had her well and truly surrounded. The looks on their faces suggested they, too, were here for a battle. Calling upon every ounce of confidence she had, Kerri straightened and faced down the panel of suits.

While it certainly was not her favorite place to be, if she was here, it meant her prison sentence was about to come to an end at last.

The high-ceilinged council chamber was all but a new environment to Kerri. At first glance, it appeared warm with expensive wood paneling tastefully integrated with the modern interior and well-lit atmosphere. She knew, though, that looks did not match the grim nature of several meetings held here. Her job had called her to Austin, Texas frequently as a representative of her region for new inductions, retirements, and the occasional, dreaded, dishonorable discharge. Today, the chamber was empty, save for Kerri, the panel, and a lone guard standing near the only entrance into the room. Whatever was said today would be for her ears, and her ears only.

Drawing a deep breath, she willed her racing heart to slow, and answered, reciting the words she’d been rehearsing over and over again to herself since that morning. “Kerri Lynn Stevens. Call number: 493087. Codename: Foxtrot. May it please the panel, I move to present a defense.”

“If we were interested in hearing a defense, Agent Foxtrot,” another voice, this one from the center of the panel, chimed in, “we would have called for a hearing less than thirty-six hours after the initial infraction.” Kerri’s handler, Director Lawrence Ward, closed one of the buttons on his immaculately tailored midnight blue suit. “Not wait three months.”

Kerri gestured towards the first speaker of the meeting. “As Director of the Southern Reach, it was Director Shaw’s decision to authorize such a severe consequence without providing me with an opportunity—”

“The motion was decided outside of your presence, Agent,” Director Shaw dismissed with a wave of his hand. “We will not be hearing a defense.”

Kerri said, “I followed every directive from the panel without requesting an audience for three months when probationary periods, historically, have been half that or less. Does that not merit an explanation? Or a chance to present my side of the story?”

Director Ward lifted a hand before Shaw could respond. “Why do you push so hard for this motion, Agent?”

Kerri leaned into the podium, the quick flex it required of her muscles stimulating the blood flow necessary to cool the burn that seeped into her muscles from inactivity. “It’s never been denied in the past.”

Bracing his forearms on the long table, Director Ward leaned forward and regarded Kerri through narrowed eyes. “So you would assume that we should continue to follow protocol down to the letter, even when you, yourself, seem to think you are above such things?”

Kerri swiftly backpedaled, “I never meant to assume—”

Director Shaw bade her to be quiet. “The panel determined that your continuing disregard for expected conduct in the field was grounds for increased severity of disciplinary action. We will cover the specifics at the designated time. Concerning your defense: your obedience to directives as a result of your ongoing behavior warrants you no such privilege.”

Kerri’s mouth opened and closed several times over, searching desperately for a response but finding none. None that would be to her benefit, at least. The cavernous room remained unvoiced for another moment, the fluttering of turning papers from the panel filling the void before they turned back to her. She sought out Director Ward for solace, but found none in the hard lines of his face.

She said directly to her handler, “Director—”

“This is a review of your disciplinary case, and nothing more,” said the woman to the right of Director Shaw. Her nameplate identified her as Adeline Kim, Director of Active Agent Relations. “We are not here to listen to your agenda.”

Kerri bristled. “If helping others sounds like an agenda to you—”

“You broke protocol to fulfill needs that were not pertinent to your direct orders, Agent, did you not?”

Kerri, desperate to get a word in edgewise, huffed, “I’d say they had some relevance.”

“Now is not the time to play Devil’s Advocate, Agent. Did you, or did you not, break protocol?”

Everyone already knew the answer to that question, which made it redundant and, most infuriatingly, unproductive. Time and time again, the panel seemed to think that making Kerri confront and acknowledge her disobedience in the field would prevent her from putting herself in this position again. And yet they always seemed to find themselves here, each side waiting for the other to relent only for nothing to change. They were better than this. She was better than this.

She had taken accountability for her actions. Just not the way they might have wanted her to.

Kerri clamped down on her tongue before she could say any of that out loud. Doing so would only put herself at greater risk for more punishment. She strangled her features into neutrality, straightening her back as she faced down the panel of directors.

It was futile to hope that she could hide her true intentions here. Everyone here knew her secrets without her having to open her mouth.

Which meant lying would be pointless.

“I did.” Kerri squared her shoulders and stood with as much authority as she could muster before the imposing panel.

Kerri had been in this position enough times to know that controlling the room was a hopeless endeavor. So she clung desperately to what she knew she could control.

Director Ward pressed, “How, precisely, did you breach protocol?”

Kerri masked her groan with a sigh. “I deviated from the mission plan.” She stuck to the facts. “It was not a misinformed decision. I did it of my own free will.”

As she said it, Kerri looked towards the remaining member of the panel. Director Rachelle Frost had supervised her training during her earliest days in Legion. If there was anyone who could vouch for her, it would be Frost. The look she gave Kerri was unreadable before she made a note on her legal pad. Kerri felt her confidence wane at the gesture.

Ward’s voice called her back to the present. “And this, deviation, was to interfere with bystanders, correct?”

“I specialize in defense,” Kerri replied. “Shouldn’t my priority be the wellbeing of the people we’ve sworn to protect?”

“We aren’t looking for your mission statement, Agent. Answer the question.”

That was it.

Kerri snapped, “If by interfere you mean assist with the evacuation of a collapsing building, then yes, the deviation involved dealing with bystanders.”

“Do you understand the risks associated with your actions, Agent?” Director Kim sounded as exasperated as Kerri felt.

Averting eye contact, Kerri drummed her fingers against the underside of the lectern. “Yes, Director,” she said through a wired jaw.

“Elaborate for us, please.”

It was as if they wanted to humiliate her.

“Because my actions have again put Legion at risk of exposure.” She resented how robotic her voice sounded as she delivered the answer.

“Again.”

Director Ward’s voice was a low force. Kerri’s stomach tightened, the sensation drowning out the otherwise distracting thought of whether she’d have been able to hear him if she’d elected to not wear her hearing aids that morning. What was worse was the way he said it as if he was embarrassed on her behalf. Embarrassment which then transferred to Kerri. Clenching everything from her jaw to her knees, Kerri began keeping count of her deep, even breaths.

Director Kim said, “This is your fifth offense of this caliber in the past five years you’ve served in this capacity. Legion cannot continue under this pattern, nor can we afford to keep erasing any documentation of you every time you wander in front of a camera.”

“This manner of conduct can be forgiven once, maybe twice,” added Director Shaw. “The only reason you are still standing here is because Alpha has determined that you are more of an asset than a liability when you do follow directives. She is concerned that the scales may be tipping out of your favor. This kind of behavior is unacceptable from someone in your position.”

“All due respect,” Kerri said, “but are those who share my rank not expected to make challenging decisions when faced with a crisis?”

“Those who share you rank, Agent Foxtrot,” Ward countered, “are expected to make those challenging decisions in order to see their missions accomplished. Not go out of their way to get caught on camera.”

“So you would stand by and watch innocent people die over something they can’t control?”

“Agent!”

The moment she said it, Kerri knew she’d crossed a line. But the blatant disregard for human life was something she refused to stand for.

Director Kim said, “People die in the name of the greater good frequently, Agent—”

“Not if they don’t know what they’re dying for!”

“And you must understand that there is nothing we can do to change that!”

Kerri went silent, absolutely stunned at the ignorance of the panel. Was there anything she could say to remind them that what she had done was good? Perhaps against instructions, perhaps dangerous. But those whom she’d saved from an untimely death or lifelong physical ailments might have told a different story.

Though three months had passed, she still remembered clearly how it’d felt to be inside that building—wood crackling and popping all around her, her eyes streaming from the onslaught of smoke, sparks and tongues of flame licking against her hands when she reached for a trapped child. Heat filling her lungs until she thought she might burn from the inside out. But most importantly, the frightened screams and cries from others. Frantic coughing and hacking from those without proper protection. The terror etched into their faces… and then relief. Relief that, because of her, not all was lost.

Yes, she understood that she could not keep everyone she came into contact with from dying. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. It was her duty, the duty her employer, to try.

That was the Legion she’d signed up for. The tales of daring heroism, the best of the best fighting for peace, woven for her by her father on the balmy Texas nights. Not… this political mess.

Ward’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Do you understand, Agent Foxtrot?”

Despite her efforts, she could not wrest back the memory that took her back to fire and rot and decay and the crushing guild that she could not save them all.

No. She did not understand why she faced punishment after punishment for doing the right thing.

Letting out a long breath, Kerri forced herself to nod. “I understand, Director. I will improve my conduct where it is necessary.”

“Make sure those improvements align with your code of conduct, not your personal morals,” Ward sniped.

In a perfect world, those two might have overlapped. But they hadn’t hired Kerri for her morals, apparently, just her ability to shoot straight and win in a fight. She stared straight ahead and strangled the urge to scowl at her handler.

“Commitments to improve are well and good,” said Director Shaw, “however, this panel is not in a position to turn you loose and trust you to not cause any more problems.”

“What can I do about this?”

“Ward.”

Director Ward pushed a slim, manila colored folder to the edge of the table. The motion drew her attention to where he sat. Her gaze flickered back and forth between the file and her handler’s face, which was still heavily shrouded with an emotion she could not entirely place.

She felt her heartbeat thrum over her body. Another assignment? So soon after being cleared?

His hand remained flat over the cover of the folder. “You swore an oath to support and defend our corporation. To bear allegiance to us and no others. Do you still swear it?”

Anxiety—equally powerful and equally terrible—filled Kerri’s chest. “I do.” She forced her voice to remain steady.

“You swore to serve as a living example of this organization’s philosophies and beliefs and to uphold these values at all times. You took this obligation freely and of your own accord. Do you still swear it?”

Freely. Of her own accord. “I do.”

“Do you swear to give yourself wholly to this assignment and swear to complete the request of its commissioner?”

“I do.”

Ward removed his hand from the file and said, “You may approach the table, Agent Foxtrot.”

Slowly, Kerri stepped around the podium and approached the panel with slow, stiff steps. What normally might have filled her with a sense of honor and duty was now tainted with doubt and uncertainty. She felt acutely aware of every pair of eyes on her, burning hotter and hotter with each step that took her closer to the table. Ward gave a small nod as she took the file. She quickened her pace as she walked back to the podium and settled the file against it, eager to be as far away as possible from the ones who held her fate in their hands.

Flipping open the folder, Kerri was immediately faced with the image of a smiling woman. Her skin was pale, smooth, which brought out the green of her eyes and the mane of bright red curls framing her attractive face.

She turned the page over, and found in the following pages little information outside of basic information and demographics about the stranger. The panel waited, scrutinizing every action as Kerri skimmed the folder.

“What’s the assignment?” asked Kerri after finding nothing indicating why, precisely, she was looking at this woman.

“This,” said Director Ward, “Is your newest target.”

Kerri’s stomach flipped. She knew precisely what that meant.

Almost four years had passed since her last commission for an assassination in her five year career. Overall, she’s only ever completed two. One as a part of her initiation trials to earn her Name, and a second one year later. Both had left a bad enough taste in Kerri’s mouth that she’d requested to only be assigned to them if it was a last resort. Shockingly, Legion had obliged her. It seemed it was time to break that streak.

But she imagined they’d start her out with something small, quiet. Literally anything but an assassination.

She had to tread carefully, moving forward. Everyone was on edge. “All due respect,” she said slowly, “but perhaps this is a job better suited for someone not just cleared to re-enter the field.”

“We don’t have the time to call in another Named Agent to an area already occupied by one.” A beat passed during which Ward rubbed his chin. “I expected more enthusiasm from you about being put on a job.”

“I am honored by the panel’s show of trust in giving me an assignment with such a high degree of urgency.” Kerri looked down at the photograph inside the cover of the folder. Her target’s smile was so broad, so unlike the headshots from her previous assassinations which contained scowls and frowns. She looked, shockingly, friendly. “But what has Charlotte Moore done to earn a hit from us?”

Indeed, there was nothing in the file indicating that Charlotte had done anything so abhorrent that it warranted Legion’s attention. Her criminal record included little more than a few cases of petty theft and arson. Since when did they concern themselves with such relatively minuscule matters?

“Everything you need to complete your mission is in that file,” said Director Ward. “Can you show us that you can do your job?”

Although rare, it was not unheard of for agents to turn down assassinations. Kerri was a living, breathing example of that. Her jobs, which tended to focus on protecting life rather than ending it made her more likely than the average operative to do so. It was an interesting thing to be said of someone who worked for a company willing to kill others in the name of world peace.

And she might have said no, were it not for her audience. There simply was not enough information in the file for Kerri to accept a job with such heavy ramifications in good conscience. She was already on such thin ice as it was, she wasn’t willing to take the risk of saying no when tensions already ran so high.

Kerri’s eyes snapped up to Ward’s as she bit back, “Of course I can.”

As if sensing her discomfort, Director Shaw said, “Understand that all we are asking, Agent Foxtrot, is that you complete the assignment as it has been given, and there will not be an issue.”

Kerri’s fingers clenched around the lectern so hard her knuckles hurt. “An issue with what?”

“Given your acts of impotence in the field over the past half decade, Alpha has decided that it is in Legion’s best interest to move up your re-evaluation concerning your standing as a Named Agent.”

Terror wrapped its icy claws around Kerri’s chest and clenched, driving the air from her lungs. Every five years, Named Agents were put through a series of evaluations and assessments as a means of checking their skills and overall functioning. The results were used to make a recommendation concerning whether that agent was in good enough standing to continue serving in such a demanding, high profile capacity. Really, it was just a fancy way of saying “are they fit enough and sane enough”. Kerri’s evaluation, which had been scheduled for the end of this year, had hardly crossed her mind, until now.

At her silence, Shaw added, “Consider this a test run.” His tone was not warm. “Complete your mission with no infractions, and we will consider moving forward with considering you for a renewal of your credentials. If you fail, you will be immediately discharged.”

The world stopped spinning beneath Kerri’s feet. Gripping the lectern for support, she looked at each member of the panel. Nothing in their faces, their posture, indicated that they were being facetious. She actively struggled to maintain straight, untangled breathing—her mouth and through suddenly bone-dry.

After all she had done. All she had given to these people, this organization, this was what it came to?

A new voice, this one female, spoke up, calling Kerri’s spirit back into her body, “Perhaps this is a consequence we should reconsider, Director Shaw.”

“You have something you would like to add, Director Frost?”

Director Rachelle Frost straightened, pursing her plump lips into a line. She glared at Director Shaw with eyes so dark they seemed black. “I had the privilege of overseeing Agent Foxtrot’s training in my facility. She was one of my youngest and fastest graduates. She has done more than enough to earn her title.”

“It’s no question whether she earned her title,” said Kim. “That is separate from being worthy of keeping it.”

“Losing her would be a detriment Legion. I would recommend that the panel considers a customary demotion.”

Shaw said, “The order came directly from Alpha; she did not ask for the panel’s input on the matter. Agent Foxtrot has become too much of a liability to consider keeping her around, even in a smaller capacity. Our job as a panel is simply to pass the motion.”

Kerri pushed her hands into the podium, exerting as much pent up energy as she could without physically leaning into it. Doing so would only call more attention to her. Her lungs suddenly felt too small for her chest, and her breath came out in short, patchy puffs. Charlotte Moore’s face stared back up at her, her green eyes seeming to pierce into her as if she stood there in the flesh. Kerri swallowed when she felt her breakfast crawl back up her throat.

“All in favor, say aye.”

A chorus of ayes filled the empty space, punctuated by a single nay. As the echo faded from the chamber, Kerri felt she was truly in danger of emptying her stomach onto the floor.

“The motion passes,” said Director Shaw, flat. “Do you understand your task, Agent Foxtrot?”

With trembling hands, Kerri flipped the folder shut. Though it covered Moore’s face, she still felt her eyes burning into her through the thick cardstock. She hoped the podium covered her movements well enough to conceal that small detail. Her voice felt oddly detached from her body when she said, “I understand.”

“Best work on getting the color back into your face, Agent,” said Ward without a shred of sympathy. “If you’re serious about keeping your job, you’re going to have to watch her die.”

Despite her best efforts, she could not muster the strength to look away from her handler’s face. She locked her knees, pleading with her body to stop shaking.

“We want a confirmed kill in seventy-two hours. Get it done.”

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#atlastracking #writeblr #writing community #my writing #original stuff #excerpt #legion #gonna tag this #nanowrimo #because this is my nano project and i'll be picking up where i've left off thus far #nanowrimo 2020 #i was gonna post this later this afternoon but i'm impatient and require immediate validation

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lakelewisia · 3 years

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A Lewisian Year

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