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scorple · 2 years

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More Than Just a Goblin

part two of my ongoing series that is also cross posted to ao3 here

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It’s in front of the grand archway of the hedge maze that Wuuvy finds him. Hob is strategizing with his salt goblins when he hears a quiet throat clearing behind him. The salt goblins take his momentary distraction as a chance to run from their very important strategy meeting, whispering under their breath about getting a glance at Lady Featherfowl. News of her acceptance of the gift from the Lord and Lady of the Goblin court had spread faster than a good goblin arson. They were smitten.

When he turned to face her, Wuuvy had reverted from her third form–the one she had been in most of the party, daring anyone to say anything –to the form most knew her in. Her big, doe eyes were shining in the mid-afternoon sun but he was not fooled by their innocent look. It had taken quite a bit of healing to repair the damage she had done to his skin–and a bit of sewing to mend his favorite officer’s jacket. She was a formidable foe, a Champion of the Hoof and Claw court, and not to be underestimated on looks alone.

Hob mused for a moment on how similar they really were.

“Lady Wuuvy,” he began, taking on his ‘court’ voice and bowing low to the ground, his tall hat tucked in one hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? We were just–well, I was formulating a plan with the salt goblins on how to best solve the Bloom Master’s maze.” He watched her carefully as he mentioned Rue but the satyr gave nothing away, her face impassive and still.

In fact, she seemed to be considering him very closely, sharp eyes flitting from his stance to his face, taking it all in. Hob felt distinctly like a puzzle that she was trying to work out. He worried for a moment what he might be giving away, cognizant to keep his hands by his side and his face as impassive as possible, mirroring the expression she wore.

But then Rue walked by, arm in arm with Lady Featherfowl, laughing at something the other had said, followed closely behind by a lovesick troupe of salt goblins. Hob couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering toward them. It was almost like a compulsion ever since that night in the woods. Everywhere Rue was, Hob was sure to be looking.

As quickly as he flicked his eyes to the passing group, he returned back to looking at Wuuvy. In the brief moment he had looked away, her entire demeanor had shifted. Her posture relaxed, no long ramrod straight, no longer staring at Hob with consideration. Her eyes softened and she smiled lightly at him. “I come in peace, I assure you,” she said, bowing her head to him. “I wanted to–”

“You wanted to see my reaction to the venerable Mistrex Rue,” Hob replies. He’s not positive that was what she was about to say, but the flattening of her ears give her away. Dangerous things, ears. Never completely under control, always giving something away (as he’s learned the hard way through many years serving the Goblin court). It is refreshing to have another fey in the same boat as him, however.

“Yes,” she says plainly, and Hob prides himself on his guess only to have the ground feel as though it is falling beneath him at what she says next. “Furthermore, I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? There is nothing to apologize for, my good Lady. If anything, it is I who should still be asking for your forgiveness,” he rushes out. “It was I who harmed Mistrex Rue.”

Wuuvy tilts her head at him, more curiosity than judgment. “But you said you did not know why I demanded satisfaction.”

Hob clears his throat, unable to meet Wuuvy’s eyes. “I–I confess that I do not know the details of how I caused harm but for a warrior such as yourself to demand satisfaction from me and with your…countenance so changed,” he sucks in a breath and looks back up at his companion. “I know that I can be ignorant of some aspects and customs of the fey courts as I am more suited for battle and war but–”

Wuuvy laughs softly, reaching out a hand to rest on Hob’s forearm. “My dear Captain, take a breath.”

He sucks in a breath and then huffs out a laugh of his own. “Forgive me. Lady Boil has often reminded me that I can be quite verbacious when speaking, often talking around the point so to speak.”

Wuuvy takes that in with an odd look. “What do you think the cause of Rue’s distress was?”

Hob blinks at her, taken aback for a moment. It was hard enough to speak of it to Lady Boil. He remembers tripping over his words as he spoke his truest fear aloud. Hob isn’t sure if he can do that again. He sighs and looks away. “My Lady, I—“ he hesitates. “From what I can parse together–and rest assured I do not intend to speak for or make assumptions of what the Mistrex may or may not think or feel– and without any other sensible explanation I have deduced that the very act of expressing my feelings as a member of the Goblin court to a member of the Court of Wonder moved the honorable Rue to tears.” He takes a deep breath and then pushes on. “They ran from me quite soon after, which is of course their right to do just as it is your right to defend their honor.”

When his gaze returns to Wuuvy, there is a new kind of softness to her features that is foreign to Hob. She replaces her hand on his arm and give him a gentle squeeze. She offers him another smile but her ears twitch in a way that broadcasts sadness. No, not sadness. Pity.

Not again , Hob thinks. Offending another of the fey high court.

“Do you really think so little of yourself?” she asks.

The question startles him from his spiraling thoughts. “My Lady?”

Wuuvy’s eyes are kind as she repeats her question. “Do you think that little of yourself, Captain?”

“I—it’s—I’m not sure I understand?” he stutters. “I am aware of the…reputations of the Goblin Court as well as I am aware of my own…limitations within my court and the Bloom at large.” Hob feels the shame and embarrassment burn through his body at having to explain this to someone of higher standing–again.

“Do you think Rue is shallow?” Wuuvy asks. “Do you think they care where you are from and what your standing is?”

“Well–”

“A straight answer, Captain,” she warns. “Yes or no. Do you think Rue would scorn you simply for being a goblin? Even before today, when you thought they were the beautiful elven fey, do you think they would be so cruel?”

Hob swallows thickly, casting his eyes once again to the ground. Wuuvy is a source of constant surprise it seems. To corner him in such a way and see past his bumbling words. “No,” he says quietly. “No, I do not think Rue to be like that.”

One of Wuuvy’s soft hands finds his chin, directing his face to look at her. “Exactly,” she says with a nod, her soft eyes somehow piercing the hardened shell of his exterior. She gives him one last smile. “And from what I understand, you are more than just a goblin anyway.” With a final squeeze of his forearm she sweeps away, leaving Hob alone in front of the archway of the maze.

#captain k.p. hob #delloso de la rue #battlemaster of ceremonies #acofaf #a court of fey and flowers #fanfic

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shintorikhazumi · 2 years

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Two Less-Lonely People In The World

Two less-lonely people in the world

A/N: Ey, Genshin fandom debut. Crap.

SaraEula friendship fic. I love Eula. She’s the first character who I fell in love with. Story, design, playstyle (tho I don’t have her. *sobs in pain of just having gotten a decent enough device to run GI*). Then Sara came in and swooped down and into my heart. I love the birb so much too T-T. These 2 always make me so sad when I think about their backgrounds.

I am down bad for Characters with the best angst potential. Thus, I would like to form the Teyvat Sad Girls’ Club- (I already have the Liyue member ready in my mind)

Tell me Eula and Sara won’t become besties when they can possibly relate so much to each other T-T.

Assigned as personal guards/protection/attendants to Jean and Ei for a meeting between nations stuff. Yas.

EuJean and AyaSara being (somewhat) on the rarepair side gives me pain. I NEED FOOD. So, uh… I cooked some- (tho it’s not cooked well, I’m sorry)

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

It is quiet. Incredibly, unnervingly so. So much so that Eula swears she can hear the continuous ticking of the tiny pocket watch resting by her hip.

She’s certain that if she checks it, the time would reflect some ungodly hour of the night- maybe even tell her that it is already a new day refreshing.

Eula has stood in the same spot for hours she could no longer be bothered to count, definitely bored out of her wits, though her upbringing would allow no such tell in her manners.

Still… there must be something worth doing. Something to keep her entertained until the leaders of Teyvat realize that the greatest ‘peace’ they can hope to achieve at present during these treaty talks is the peace that comes with slumber; realize that sleep is a necessity to continue living. Maybe a luxury to people like them, but despite her reconnaissance duties-demanding as they are at times- Eula likes to think she still holds a healthy sleeping schedule compared to most knights. (She tries not to think about a certain grand master and knight-maid in contrast.)

Eula would very much love to get some peace of mind before she loses said mind and gives those workaholics a piece of her mind.

Her eyes have gotten tired of the plain wooden panels in front of her, and she shifts them about, catching sight of her companion who has been in the same predicament as herself. Huh.

Eula secretly gives the tall figure a once-over, noting the tireless rigid stance it maintains. Eula sighs. She can already guess that they both aren’t ones to strike up idle chatter, if the hours they’d already spent in silence were any more obvious of an indication.

But.

She remains bored.

And Eula Lawrence isn’t too keen on staying bored. She’s already quite exhausted from going straight to guarding this meeting just as they’d stepped foot on the island without a moment’s rest. Getting bored on top of that- Eula would hate to drift off in any way. (Not that her discipline would permit such a thing.) So perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Perhaps.

Shuffling her feet, she quietly clears her throat. Just loud enough to be heard or not, hoping it doesn’t sound like a rude interruption and casual enough to be dismissed.

Her fellow watch guard bats nary an eyelash.

Eula sighs.

Guess she’ll have to be more direct in her approach if she wants any sort of reaction.

“So?” She begins, as nonchalant as she can. “Why, pray-tell, is the esteemed general and supposed right hand of Inazuma’s Archon out here in a freezing hall, guarding a sturdy enough door with a- not to be boastful, but- perfectly capable knight ensuring safety, as it is my assigned duty?”

Said general blinks, having been previously lost in thought and unable to catch much of what her companion had just asked.

“Pardon?”

Sara looks caught off guard, clearly not expecting this sudden conversation- brows knit together as she turns her focus to Eula.

Eula swallows her amusement, tries to remain professional-looking. Sara had cocked her head to the side, looking very much like a curious bird. Eula will never admit to it looking cute, not in front of the general, at least. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear before resting her gaze upon the impeccable posture of the foreign general.

“Why aren’t you inside with the rest of the representatives in the meeting? From what Gun- Mondstadt’s acting grand master has told me, alongside your ruler, representatives from each country’s administrative hand have been invited to join. That includes all notable and distinguished members of any noble family.” Eula clarifies as she straightens up from her position leaning against the doorpost, feeling somewhat conscious now that she has the ever-serious general’s attention.

Sara’s mouth stays in that same single line, unmoving.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Trying to make small talk with someone possibly more stoic than even Rosaria or Diluc- wait. No.

Eula shakes her head. That would be an insult to the poor general.

She’s not one to abandon any mission she’s set out to do, but maybe Eula should give up on… whatever this is she’s started.

… except Eula Lawrence does not give up on anything.

She soldiers on, keeping any sort of creeping embarrassment shoved to the back of her mind.

“Ah, if you worry about not being able to speak much about these ‘forming connections’ affairs they claim to want to have, I’m sure I heard that this first night is supposedly only an informal dinner so that the representatives may acquaint themselves with one another.” She tries not to bitterly add that they sure are taking their sweet time in ‘getting acquainted’.

“Ah.” Sara blinks slowly, Eula’s words finally registering. She lets out a small cough, features relaxing somewhat. “My apologies, mila-“

“None of that now, General. Captain or Eula should suffice.” Eula cuts Sara off, making it perfectly clear that she wants no ‘madame’s or ‘milady’s reaching her ears. Not tonight. Not in this foreign land that feels much too alike to Mondstadt with Eula in it’s walls. Nothing oppressive, but somewhat alienating.

Actually, she’d like to hear it… not ever. The addresses feel too heavy a reminder of her upbringing and the reality they have wrought her.

“Reconnaissance Captain Lawrence.”

It was almost a lovely sound. Eula regards her title with a nod, pleased by the general’s compliance. Now that is a name she does not mind hearing forever. A testament to her own will and hard work-

Except that she’d have loved it more if her surname had been dropped, her roots forgone and buried in the dust. Still, Sara’s clear respect in how she regarded Eula forgave that thought.

“Yes, General?” Eula cannot help but smile as she feels the previously stiff atmosphere shift into something more cordial in a way that was comfortable instead of stifling as her usual noble-centric encounters have been.

Though without her own smile, the general looks like she shares the sentiment.

“As I was saying. You must be mistaken.” Sara’s eyes flicker toward the decorated carving of the wooden door before facing front once more. “I am not a representative.” She clears her throat. “Or at least, not when it comes to these matters. My eldest brother and I take care of military affairs while my other brother handles such sociopolitical issues.” Would it be fair for Eula to think that the general might be embarrassed?

“Hmmm.”

“I do admit I’ve had my fair share of negotiations with other parties, but…” Sara’s thoughts strive to not linger on her past meetings with one priestess of the resistance. “I believe it is best to leave this to the one more experienced.” She concludes, with another nod that Eula knows is Sara trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“Like I said, this is only dinner.” Eula repeats pointedly.

Sara’s brows furrow some, a small frown of confusion on her lips as she regards Eula with a rebuttal of her own. “Then why are you out here, Captain Lawrence?”

“Whatever do you mean, General?” Eula replies, tone almost flippant.

“If my memory serves me right from my days of studying Teyvat history, is your presence not also required inside the dining hall?”

Eula’s laugh is boisterous, yet painful-sounding. Sara hides her wince, wondering why it is so.

“General Kujou, your memory may not be wrong, but it seems to have missed a few parts.”

Sara raises a brow, a silent ‘continue’ going unspoken.

Eula huffs, a mirthless smile replacing her equally joyless laughter. Why is she even entertaining the thought of sharing her history with Sara?

Well, whatever. It is a quiet night. Dull, even by her standards. The ‘meeting’ in the room has probably gone on some five to six hours. She might as well entertain herself with the general’s decent company and average listening abilities- or so she assumes.

“I’m simply here to guard the Acting Grand Master, the Heiress of the ‘Great and Noble Gunnhildr Clan’ as an attendant. A bodyguard, if you will. While Master Diluc Ragnvindr may also protect her, he is not of the knights and holds no responsibility nor duty to shield her from harm’s way. He himself is also a representative. And while I know so truly that the Dandelion Knight, Jean Gunnhildr can certainly hold her own…”

“I’ve heard stories, yes.” Sara hums in agreement.

“Yes, let’s just say it’s for formalities’ and image’s sake. That’s all there is to it.” Eula curses herself internally from chickening out, but she would like to think talking about your tragic past is not the best first impression out there.

“I… see.”

“Besides, no one would want a fallen clan’s blood, much less their now-bastard heir to represent their anything.” Eula shrugs, trying to sound as unbothered as she wanted them both to believe she was.

“Fallen... clan.” Sara echoes as the walls of the empty space do.

Silence reigns between them once more and Eula can’t help but think of how she’d love some wine right about now. She should have not stopped Rosaria from smuggling those few bottles into her pack.

“It may seem as though we hold similar reasoning, Captain Lawrence.” Sara regards her once more, breaking the quiet. Eula secretly loathes the flash of sympathy in her eyes.

Or is it empathy?

Only Sara can tell her. “I… my shame does not permit me to remain in the same gracious space as her excellency, nor can I face my loyal peers. Not… not with how my clan has done.” Tell her she does. “In a sense, it might be selfish of me to throw my own brother into the flames of scrutiny, however-“

Eula laughs, unintentionally interrupting Sara who again gives her that bewildered expression.

“You as well, huh?” Eula’s laughter dies down. She leans back against the wall as she heaves a weighted sigh, closing her eyes momentarily. She could almost fall asleep from how light she currently felt. The lightness that came with the knowledge that someone might finally understand you.

“Captain Lawrence-?”

“’Your clan and your past does not define you’“. It is said almost like a whisper, a prayer that Eula’s heart knows is too difficult to answer, for it to actually be true. “–The Acting Grand Master told me that.” She adds.

Sara nods slowly, simply listening, allowing Eula her time for what they both can feel is a much-needed release− a freedom from all the emotions she’s bottled up thus far.

“Yes, I agree. I agree with her words.” Eula speaks wistfully. Bitterly. “They certainly do not. Should not, but… the people around you try to.”

“People will always try to place their own definition on things they have yet to understand objectively.” Sara tells her. “I know I do. I think it is simply one way of getting to know and learn of the world.” She muses, though not without having to ignore the regret that digs into her heart as she tries not to remain in her memories.

“What a way to learn, huh?” Eula spits out.

A beat passes in silence.

Maybe this was the end to Eula’s little social excursion.

Whatever. She’s too tired to keep it up anyway-

“Pardon me if this may sound too personal, but…”

Eula wonders what Sara could possibly want to talk about. Did she want to dig deeper into Eula’s scars? Did she want a more specific description? Did she want something for future use against Eula? If so, she’d have to prepare some suitable venge-

“Are you and Mondstadt’s Grand Master possibly…” General Kujou Sara is surprisingly capable of blushing, Eula notes. “…ehem, uh… How shall I phrase this? Again, forgive me for being so brazen and assuming, but… are you… i-involved? By any chance?”

Oh.

Eula adds Sara to her long list of targets for vengeance.

Sara is still waiting for the response. Eula sighs, Eula smiles bittersweet, no words, but sara knows the answer.

What was the use denying it if even someone rumored as socially clueless as Kujou Sara could pick it up.

“I’ve heard you are similarly linked to the ever lovely Lady Kamisato.”

The esteemed General Kujou Sara of the Almighty Raiden Shogun coughs up a storm, choking red as she struggles to catch the pieces of her composure falling apart.

“I-I–!”

Eula almost laughs. Almost, if not for Sara’s sudden change in demeanor, eyes downcast as she seems to have organized her thoughts and returned to the reason for her initial inquiry.

Eula hadn’t thought it would be anything so heavy, so serious.

Maybe she should have known better when faced with the very embodiment of serious.

She doesn’t know how to respond to the next words that escapes Sara’s mouth in a rush.

“H-How does it feel to be together with one who is loved by all while you are… not so much liked, if not despised by those same masses?” Sara asks, keeping their conversation going, not knowing why she wants it so. Not knowing why she asks such questions. Her eyes widen a fraction when she realizes that maybe she should have not asked it at all.

Eula finds herself briefly flustered, her mouth possibly dropping had she no better self-control.

Sara asks such sensitive questions, and Eula hates that she has an answer to a situation she lives daily in truth anyway.

She adds another sigh to the count as she stirs her gaze away to one the Shogun’s random potted plants. “Wouldn’t you know the answer to that yourself?” She deflects, instead. “I take it we may have similar experiences, even in this regard.”

Sara pauses, thoughtful. “Perhaps.” Sara weighs. “Perhaps not. I, for one, can confidently say I do not particularly seek the affections of the Inazuman people…”

Eula could almost be jealous of that self-confidence.

“Just…”

“Just?”

Sara clears her throat, turning her eyes away momentarily as she cannot seem to admit to this truth facing the Lawrence girl’s gaze head on.

“I do confess to feeling… lonely… sometimes.”

Eula chuckles, a hollow sound, turning away from her possibly less-than-kindred spirit as she’d initially thought. “Is ‘sometimes’ an understatement like I believe it to be? Or do we differ in this regard as well–“

“Yes.”

Eula chances a glance back at Sara, surveying her form before training her eyes back to the front, staring at the empty hall they had been assigned to guard and wait at. “Hmm.” –Is all she responds to that.

Or it’s supposed to. But curse her tired mind, and desperation to be understood, heard, listened to- for her loose lips.

“I would say I sometimes feel jealous.” Eula softly admits. “How does it feel… for your efforts to be regarded, rewarded? How does it feel to get a pat on the back? How does it feel to be praised and accepted? Validated and seen…”

Her memories and emotions flow like a torrent of waves that threaten to wash away what little restraint she has on herself left.

“Captain…”

“When people’s eyes light up at the sight of you, children run up to you, wanting to hold your hand, offering you flowers and smiles, and-and warmth.”

Eula only ever knew the cold: a cold greater than that of the Dragonspine she’s been a constant in.

“How does it feel to be loved?” Eula grimaces at the crack in her voice, the weakness she’s allowed to slip through. But she has no strength to deny the dull aching of her heart, the painful thuds it subjects her to.

Sara remains quiet, and Eula does not dare look up to see whatever expression the general wears.

She suddenly squeaks as she feels an awkward weight- a hand- patting her on the back clumsily.

It’s unfamiliar, but Eula wants to welcome it fully.

General Kujou Sara is such an oddity.

“I’d like to know the answer to that as well.” She whispers, continuing her awkward display of comfort until Eula’s breathing has slowed, and she clears her throat, standing upright once more.

Sara retracts her hand and returns to her post as Eula fixes her appearance, swipes at the infuriating tears at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you.” Eula mutters, a hint of shyness coloring her tone.

The general grunts in response, picking at her clothes, fixing the non-existent disorder they have.

“…It was the least I could do.” Sara speaks after a time. “I… when I… catch myself dwelling on such things, I’ve found that any sort of comfort is what I seek. Now, I know you may think of it as weak for a general with such a posi-“

“I do not.” Eula cuts in.

Sara blinks. “… thank you, then.” Sara fiddles with the sword strapped to her side for a bit, before speaking once more. “Ayaka-san, she– … ever since we became… l-lov… romantically… we”

“You can just say lovers.” Eula teases, noticing the tell-tale reddening of the Tengu General’s ears.

“Y-yes, that. Since we became l-lovers, or maybe even before that, Ayaka-san… she’s taught me much. About love, comfort, being accepted, being allowed to make a choice and live. Live, not as the shogun’s general, not as the Kujou-clan’s glorified weapon, but as me: Sara.”

Eula can’t help the smile on her face, happiness for her new comrade blossoming in place of her earlier sorrows.

“Amidst the stormy seas of Inazuma, she has become my dependable anchor. She has kept me grounded, sane. She has kept me hopeful, and… well, I’d like to say she’s kept me alive. Willing to be alive.” Sara has such a far-off look in her eye. One of adoration, love, gratefulness, respect… longing.

It's an expression Eula sees on herself, reflected on glass windows when she is out on ‘night patrols’ with Jean, when they know no one else in the world watches them- sees them.

And Sara and Eula both know that just behind their shallow envy is an understanding of the city. For who are they to not know of how much more difficult it is not to fall in love with the women who effortlessly catch all hearts by merely existing.

They’d be a hypocrite to say they could not grasp the notion.

They know it all too well.

Moreso than the rest of the world even.

The world should be envious of them instead. The ones who are loved by the loved.

“I also believe,” Sara continues, and Eula listens. “That though we may long for the same affections of those around us, we are also aware of the pressures they are subjected to? I, at least, see how exhausted Ayaka-san is after a long day of dealing with countless people, all who see hope in you and think you are their only chance of gaining help.”

“Mm.” Eula winces at a memory of a Jean ran ragged, a constant image that has been imprinted in her mind from the many times she’s encountered the disposition. “That is definitely one thing I would never be jealous of.”

“They work so hard, they strive and serve, and put their all in… how could I bring myself to deny Ayaka… how could I not want to assist her and aid her in her burdens?” Sara speaks in a relatable manner, Eula nodding along because it was the truth.

It was only fair that they earned and deserved all the adoration.

And How could Eula actually loathe Jean?

How could Sara not want to be in such the illuminating presence that is Kamisato Ayaka?

They were both as moths to flames so warm, so bright in their cold, dark worlds. Those flames would engulf them, embrace them, and lay to ash their sorrows and pains, even if it was for merely a night.

“I’ve always hated my upbringing. I’ve hated how life just decided that I was the antagonist to everyone’s story. I abhor fate and its law of turning me into an outcast when I had… When I have no part in its past.” Eula murmurs.

“If we were given the chance to start over our lives, in places far from this, in settings vastly differing… do you think we’d take it?” Sara muses. “To start anew? To maybe receive love from the start? To have grown in different circumstances?”

Eula ponders it for no longer than a second.

“As tempting as it sounds, I’d rather not take my chances.” She shares a grin with the general. “What if it means you don’t get to be with your lovely lady, after all?”

Sara smiles amidst her scoff. “I believe in fate. Soulmates.” Eula resisted the urge to tease her for that. “And even if they weren’t true, I know that I would still seek Ayaka. I would still love her as fervently and as loyally as I do now.” Sara’s words are a confession, a proposal so sincere, Eula can almost see the ring. “I would still dedicate all my affections, love, and adoration to her.”

“Consider me in awe, General.” Eula shakes her head in amazement. “Though I concur, wholeheartedly. I do not enjoy the history that torments me, but…” She leaves it to her companion to finish the rest.

“I guess, you could say… at the end of it all that…” Sara smiles a small thing, heartwarming as she wraps her fingers round the charm nestled safely in her pocket.

“That?”

“In my life where everything goes wrong, something finally went right.”

“Now there’s two less lonely people in the world?” Eula chuckles a second time that night, only that the sound is fuller, clearer… happier. “I never imagined you to be one who listened to such worldly tunes, General.”

“And I you, Captain.” Sara laughs quietly, eyes rising to the ceiling. “Some things just come unexpectedly, as I imagine you know.”

And then the door finally opens, and Eula sees two tired faces switch to beaming at the sight of her and the general. It sends a burst of melting joy in her icy heart as her arms fall around a waist that felt just like home, embracing her in her fulness.

She’s glad she took the chance to speak with the taciturn (adorably so) general. Maybe they could do this again next time.

And as Eula lays in bed with a bundle of dandelion-scented sun nestled into her bosom, she finds herself agreeing with Sara one last time for the night.

“I do know.”

A/N: DOONNEEE, OMG. I’ve had this idea living in my head for so long and just- I am nervous, honestly because it’s been so many MONTHS (idk If I’ve hit a year) of no writing. And needless to say, I have no confidence in this whatsoever. BUT. I need food. I need LPVE FOR EULA AND SARA LIKE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I FEEL FOR THESE TWO. THEY MAKE ME CRY. Hope you all liked it ;-; and tune in to the next installment of this series. Whenever that is.

Teyvat Sad Girls’ Club Out.

Ciao~

~Shintori Khazumi

#genshin impact #fanfic #eula lawrence #kujou sara #ayasara #eujean #I WILL MAKE EULA AND SARA FRIENDS AND THIS IS MY NEW AGENDA #MY GRAND MASTER PLAN #JOIN ME #Teyvat Sad Girls' Club

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.

#short prompts #nie huaisang #lan wangji #wei wuixan #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #nmj is proud of his bb bro for standing up for what he believes in lol

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noemibalbii · 3 years

Text

Six of Crows duology quotes

“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won’t matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.”

“Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck’.”

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

“When someone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

“She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.”

“He needed to tell her… what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.”

“I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.”

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”

“What do you want then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome, You, Inej, you.

“Greed is your god, Kaz.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.”

“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”

“Better terrible truths than kind lies.”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you some day, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”

“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.”

“Stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.” She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she’d been through. “What would be the point?” He took a breath. “I want you to stay, I want you to… I want you.” “You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?” He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set, It was the face he wore when he was fighting. “How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?” He released her hand, his shoulders bunching, his gaze angry and ashamed as he turned his face to the sea. Maybe it was because his back was to her that she could finally speak the words. “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”

“Some people see a magic trick and say, “Impossible!” They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good night’s sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.”

“He’d broken his leg dropping down from the rooftop. The bone didn’t set right, and he’d limped ever after. So he’d found himself a Fabrikator and had his cane made. It became a declaration. There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.”

“Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?”

“Facts are for the unimaginative.”

“When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm.” “I’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.” “Why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That’s what the big players do.”

“How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?” “You might say I’m a lockpick.” “You must be a very gifted one.” “I am indeed.” Kaz leaned back slightly. “You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute’s way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It’s a delicate thing.” “Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?” Kaz smiled. “It’s not a metaphor.” He was out of his chair before his chains hit the ground.”

“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”

“You couldn’t train a falcon, then expect it not to hunt.”

“The life you live, the hate you feel - it’s poison. I can drink it no longer.”

Jesper: “If Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Kaz: “I’ll just hire Matthias’s ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” Matthias: “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost.”

“But all he could think of was Inej. She had to live. She had to have made it out of the Ice Court. And if she hadn’t, then he had to live to rescue her.”

“He was going to break my legs,” she said, her chin held high, the barest quaver in her voice. “Would you have come for me then, Kaz? When i couldn’t scale a wall or walk a tightrope? When I wasn’t the Wraith anymore?” Dirtyhands would not. The boy who could get them through this, get their money, keep them alive, would do her the courtesy of putting her out of her out of her misery, then cut his losses and move on. “I would have come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together - knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”

“Maybe there were people who lived those lives. Maybe this girl was one of them. But what about the rest of us? What about the nobodies and the nothings, the invisible girls? We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to write magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.”

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.”

“Has anyone noticed this whole city is looking for us, mad at us, or want to kill us?” “So?” said Kaz. “Well, usually it’s just half the city.”

“She smiled then, her cheeks red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.”

“No mourners. No funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”

“Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?” “Guns?” asked Jesper. “Ships?” queried Inej. “Bombs?” suggested Wylan. “Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.

“We meet fear. We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.”

“You don’t look like a monster.” “I’ll tell you a secret, Hannah. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”

Until this moment, Wylan hadn’t quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves. a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn’t keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.”

“They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.”

“At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”

“I’ve been nothing but kind to you. I’m not some sort of a monster.” “No, you’re the man who sits idly by, congratulating yourself on your decency, while the monster eats his fill. At least a monster has teeth and a spine.”

“But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one.”

“You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are. […] It’s shame that lines my pockets, shame that keeps the Barrel teeming with fools ready to put on a mask just so they can have what they want with none the wiser about it. We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.”

“She could feel the press of Kaz’s fingers against her skin, feel the bird’s wing brush of his mouth against her neck, see his dilated eyes. Two of the deadliest people the Barrel had to offer and they could barely touch each other without both of them keeling over. But they’d tried. He’d tried. Maybe they could try again. A foolish wish, the sentimental hope of a girl who hadn’t had the firsts of her life stolen, who hadn’t ever felt Tante Heleen’s lash, who wasn’t covered in wounds and wanted by the law. Kaz would have laughed at her optimism.”

“No matter the height of the mountain, the climbing is the same.”

“But when someone does wrong, when we make mistakes, we don’t say we’re sorry. We promise to make amends.” “I will.” “Mati en sheva yelu. This action will have no echo. It means we won’t repeat the same mistakes, that we won’t continue to do harm.”

“Van Eck promised us thirty million kruge,” said Kaz. “That’s exactly what we’re going to take. With another one million for interest, expenses, and just because we can.” Wylan broke a cracker in two. “My father doesn’t have thirty million kruge lying around. Even if you took all his assets together.” “You should leave, then,” said Jesper. “We only associate with the disgraced heirs of the very finest fortunes.”

“You’re better than waffles, Matthias Helvar.” A small smile curled the Fjerdan’s lips. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean, my love.”

“A proper thief is like a proper poison, merchling. He leaves no trace.”

“She took a shaky breath. The words came like a string of gunshots, rapid-fire, as if she resented the very act of speaking them. “I didn’t know if you would come.” Kaz couldn’t blame Van Eck for that. Kaz had built that doubt in her with every cold word and small cruelty. “We’re your crew, Inej. We don’t leave our own at the mercy of merch scum.” It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“I just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life hiding the things I can’t do. Why run from the amazing things you can do?”

“She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. For a long while, they stood there, hands clasped, looking out at the gray expanse of the sea.”

“Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark - he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light.”

“She wouldn’t wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn’t be rid of.”

“Brick by brick. Brick by brick. I will destroy you.” It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.”

“Kaz narrowed his eyes. “I’m not some character out of a children’s story who plays harmless pranks and steals from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. “The trick is not getting knocked down,” he’d told her with a laugh. “No, Kaz,” she’d said, “the trick is in getting back up.”

“It was because she was listening so closely the she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.”

“Our hopes rest with you, Mister Brekker. If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”

“This isn’t… it isn’t a trick, is it?” Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz’s face. “If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies. “All right,” she said. “How do we begin?” “Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he said as he led her out of the salon, “don’t ever sneak up on me again.”

“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”

“You still may die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

“Shame holds more value than coin ever can.”

“None of us move on without a backward look. We move on always carrying with us those we have lost.”

“You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”

“Why do you wear gloves, Mister Brekker?” Kaz raised a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” “Each more grotesque than the last.” Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker’s hands were stained with blood. Brekker’s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker’s touch burned like brimstone - a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die. “Pick one,” Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he’d need to help him get it. “They’re all true enough.”

“You have no finesse,” a gambler at the Silver Garter once said to him. “No technique.” “Sure I do,” Kaz had responded. “I practice the art of ‘pull his shirt over his head and punch till you see blood’.”

“A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.” [...] “What bound them together? Greed? Desperation? Was it just the knowledge that if one or all of them disappeared tonight, no one would come looking?”

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avengershumanresources · 3 years

Text

blood 5 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 4 - part 6

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

5 - a gift for the princess

Stephen wove through the rowdy crowds of the pub, just jumping out of the in time to avoid being covered in vomit. Men sang, women laughed, and the ale was flowing.

He had to give Natalia some credit for choosing such a clever cover for their meeting in the back of the pub.

Spying the owner, John nodded his head toward a discreet door behind the bar.

Stephen slipped past the crowds, ducking under the tray of a hurrying barmaid, and slipping into the room.

Natalia was sitting in a chair, rising when he walked into the room. She started talking but Stephen’s attention was fixed on the dark haired prince across the space.

“What is he doing here?” he demanded sharply, throwing a finger toward the prince. “You’re supposed to be in Asgard.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain you sack of stupid man,” she shoved him toward an empty chair. “There was a complication.”

Stephen immediately noted that James wasn’t in the room. Neither was the man he’d sent them after.

“I’m- so sorry,” he started but Loki burst out laughing.

“Honestly, you’re the Sorcerer Supreme?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “James isn’t dead.”

“Will you both shut up,” Nat snapped at the pair. “James is with the quarry in a rented room across town. Loki?”

He sighed and grabbed hers and Stephen’s hand, a cloud of green smoke enveloping them.

When the air cleared, they were in the room of an inn Stephen had visited frequently over the years, the space relatively unchanged for the two figures who glanced up at their entrance.

James was leaned back in a chair, picking out pieces of an apple, while Master Mordo sat on the edge of the bed with a book.

“Mordo?” Stephen asked, astonished at seeing the man before him. “I thought you were dead.”

“As far as Brock is concerned, I am,” he replied, standing to take the other sorcerers hand in greeting.

“I don’t understand,” he looked between the group before Loki broke the silence.

“He’s the one who poisoned the princess,” Loki gestured to Mordo, a smirking tugging on his lips.

Stephen’s hands lit up with shields in a heartbeat, a glowing dagger at Mordo’s throat.

“Explain,” he hissed.

“Stephen, calm yourself, it’s a misunderstanding,” he replied. “I’m trying to help.”

Stephen lowered his weapon slightly, signaling for the man to continue.

“The spell was supposed to put her to sleep,” he explained. “Brock is planning something wicked with Obadiah and the princess is key. I needed a means of moving her without stirring attention.”

Stephen’s hands fell to his sides, spells disappearing as they fell. That explained the black smoke when he’d cleared the spell from your system- an unusual occurrence for a simple poisoning.

“Obadiah plans to wed the princess to Brock in order to secure his army,” Mordo relaxed a little with the active threat to his life now gone, continuing his explanation. “Obadiah is the one who ordered King Anthony dead. He means to secure the throne and kill the prince, but Brock intends to double cross him and secure everything for himself after the prince is dead.”

“Our men wouldn’t let that happen,” Stephen shook his head.

“That’s not the concern,” Mordo murmured, exchanging an uneasy look with Loki over Stephen’s shoulder. “Securing a lineage in the princess’ bloodline makes his claims all the more legitimate.

The trickster snapped his fingers and Natalia and James froze into place. Time had been temporarily stopped for all but the three magic users.

“Stephen, there’s something you need to know,” Loki explained, looking to Mordo who nodded solemnly. “What do you know of the princess’ lineage?”

“Her father was the late king, Peter is her brother-,” he started but Loki stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Her maternal lineage?” he asked. “Her mother, Queen Alexandra, was born of a powerful family of seidr magic users, she was one of the last of the fallen kingdom of Vanaheim.”

“Seidr is extinct,” Stephen shook his head in disbelief but the older sorcerers sighed. “It’s been extinct for centuries.”

“It was said to have died with the queen,” Mordo picked up. “And we let that rumor circulate to take any interested parties interest off of the royal family, in particular a newborn baby girl.”

“I was a child at the time, but my family was consulted by King Anthony for a remedy for his child. He’d lost his wife to greed and desire for her power. He wanted to prevent losing the baby in the same way,” Loki explained. “My mother’s most promising student, Amora, volunteered to the task. She sealed away the princess’ intrinsic power, effectively removing her from the attention of other magic users.”

“Loki had been the princess’ intended for this reason,” Mordo added quietly. “It was a means to protect both the princess and the kingdom from the untapped power going astray as she got older.”

“I was raised to ensure this secret went to the grave with those few who knew,” he explained, sending Stephen a knowing smirk. “Since there hadn’t been much concern as she grew, and the princess had obvious affections elsewhere, it was decided the marriage could wait.”

Elsewhere, being himself, Stephen realized sheepishly. To what extent did their unspoken affection further endanger the kingdom’s stability? Had he declared his intentions sooner, could he have prevented Brock’s move in the first place?

“When Amora was exiled of Asgard, she built a ruthless reputation that caught the attention of my former King,” Mordo frowned between the men. “Brock was, needless to say, very interested in a particular piece of information Amora provided about the princess. He banished me and ordered Amora to have me killed, but I managed to escape.”

“Brock intends to marry the princess and have Amora force the princess into his control,” Loki’s voice lowered sharply. “Her seidr would serve as an unlimited pool of power for both Brock and Amora, and the princess would be helpless to do anything about it.”

“Can’t he just have her marry him under the spell as well?” Stephen frowned, knowing a number of appropriate spells off the top of his head. It wouldn’t have been the first time he heard of someone using unethical means to sefure a union.

“That’s where this gets interesting,” Loki snickered, looking to Mordo in amusement. “I haven’t had an opportunity to strengthen my cloaking spell around her. I’d managed to renew it when I said goodbye the day of the funeral, but it’s weakened significantly in the meantime.”

“Amora’s magic is too weak to penetrate pure seidr, so the princess would have to be bound in marriage before she could twist her will,” Mordo explained. “The marriage ceremony she intends to perform to Brock’s customs will involve blood magic, and no matter the princess’ true feelings, she’ll be stuck trapped unless he is killed or the marriage is annulled in some other manner.”

“But that’s where this gets fun,” Loki purred in excitement. “The princess is in love with you. If her seidr continues in that direction, she should be able to continue to fight Amora’s influence. Possibly even after a union, if somehow this all falls through.”

The thought sent a little tickle off hope through his chest. At least if he stayed true in his desire, Stephen could protect you a little longer. Still, the marriage needed to be stopped before that even became a concern.

Not only was your wellbeing at stake, but Brock could not be left in control of the region with Amora at his side.

“Then what can we do?” Stephen asked and Loki waved his wave, breaking the time freezing spell and picking up without missing a beat.

“I’ll protest the union, as her original intended,” he replied. “Because the princess trusts you, you play the most important part in this all.”

Stephen listened while the group detailed their plan. It was an ambitious scheme, but Stephen had to admit, if they all played their parts to perfection- it could work.

But would it come at the cost of losing your good faith forever?

(—)

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Stephen cupped his forehead, the headache forming when he saw Peter hunched over with a cloak over his head, speaking discreetly to a group of cloaked figures.

They’d just finished their plan when he spied the poorly disguised prince and his friends.

“...cannot stand,” he was saying before his gaze wandered to Stephen’s approaching form and he cringed.

“What’s going on here?” Stephen asked, crossing his arms. The other figures turned around. Lord Ned and Lady Michelle. “Don’t tell me... are you planning a coup?”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he gestured for Stephen to sit, grabbing the sorcerer by the sleeve of his robes and pulling him down.

“Don’t speak so casually,” he snapped, ushering the sorcerer into an empty seat. “Surely you’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard a great many things, probably more than you, your highness,” he answered sarcastically. “Do be more specific.”

“About the wedding?” he raised a brow, watching for a reaction.

“Of your sister? I’ve just learned,” he murmured, leaning in and ignoring the pointed looks his companions by the door gave him.

“Brock intends to propose tomorrow,” he explained. “But Obadiah isn’t telling my sister until the morning. He’s taken my mother and Morgan under house arrest.”

That was a bigger development than Stephen had expected from the boy.

“He intends to kill the youngest princess and queen mother if the princess does not marry Brock,” Michelle added, looking forlornly at the table.

“Where’s the princess now?” Were the next words out of Stephen’s mouth.

When he’d left you hours before, you’d been sound asleep in your chamber. With the wards and protections he’d thrown around you, there wasn’t any reason you shouldn’t still be there.

“Safe in bed,” Peter assured him. “We need a plan. Brock’s army is twice the size of our without our allies.”

“Allies?” Loki had dropped into the bench, shoving Stephen to the side. “Do continue, your majesty.”

“Can you can open the border and prepare your troops?” Peter asked the prince hopefully, but Loki frowned.

“No, but I might be able to stall the marriage,” he replied coolly, a subtle wink toward Stephen. “You know how your sister and I have danced around one another. It’s time I make my claim.”

Peter scoffed, nodding toward Stephen.

“Is he okay with that?” he asked boldly, earning a laugh from the other prince.

“Strange knows his place,” Loki answered cockily. “He swore his little oaths and we both know the current king isn’t going to let him out as easily as your father would have. What other option does the princess have?”

Peter’s gaze feel on Stephen having been not entirely convinced, but against Stephen’s better instinct, he nodded mechanically.

It was your best chance of survival. He had his own role to play down the line, so he let Loki convince the group of his undying love and affection for you.

By the end, Peter seemed convinced that the Asgardian prince could get the marriage thrown away.

While the men gathered and discussed their plans, no one noticed the young Lady and the redhaired assassin conversing quietly in the shadows.

Nor did they notice when they slipped out the back to meet with an old friend.

(—)

Wanda found Stephen scribbling down notes on a piece of floating parchment the next morning. Books were floating through the air, and he meticulously thumbed through pages as they moved around him.

It was clear her friend had been up all night, the bags under his eyes exposing the unspoken truth.

On the table was an array of ingredients, a small flame burning under a concoction of bubbling green.

“What are you up to, Strange?” she asked suspiciously when she saw the chapter of the last book he had consulted. “An elixir?”

“A gift-,” he let out a tired sigh, eyes looking miserably to the paperwork strewn in front of him.

“For whom?” Wanda’s eyes widen and her brows shot to her hairline when she read through the incantation. She knew it well, an old, but reliable mixture.

“For the princess.”

(--) 6 - a promise

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maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

Why Licking?(15/?)

AN:Hello again :) I was so thrilled by your comments that ai was able to write another chapter. Thrilled to know what the dwarfs were planing?

Wordcount: around 2400

Warnings: the usual

Why Licking-Masterlist

Masterlist

Part 14

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The door vibrated under the heavy knocks.

This took longer than I thought it would. Almost three hours.

“A moment please.”, you called out to take a last look around your little home. Heaving a last sigh you finally opened the door to face – one single dwarf. Again.

He was tall for a dwarf, and burly. His head bald with tattoos and beard short but impressive. On his back, two heavy looking battle-axes rested on is back and metal plates covered his knuckles.

“Dwalin, at yer service. King Thorin sends me. He is waiting for you in Erebor.”, Dwalin´s words held authority and no room for arguments.

“I thought that much. But I have to inform you, that my eyesight is not as good as it once were. Especially with the changing lights now that it is late.”, you nodded, taking your coat and pulling it around your neck.

“There is a carriage waiting.”, he stated, flexing his shoulders. Though it looked like a habit of his and not a tactic of intimidation.

“I will follow you then. Please lead the way Master Dwarf.”

“Good.”

You did as you had promised, and when you turned a corner in the road a goat drawn carriage was waiting for your companion and yourself.

Half an hour later, you believed you saw the gates of the great mountain appear in the dark.

Arriving at the gate, warriors saluted the two of you.

“The king is waiting in the throne room.”, a white haired dwarf stated.

“Thank you brother.”

“Miss, my name is Balin. I am the kings advisor and will be escorting you to him. Please follow me and my brother. And if you need anything, please let me know.”

“Will do.”, you frowned.

Why are they this polite? They know who I am. What is going on?

The two dwarfs lead you through the huge halls that had been carved into the mountain by skilled masons.

Entering the throne-room, you at once noticed the young dwarf you had met that fateful day. The prince and your reason for being here.

“Is that her?”, a deep timber voice asked and the blond dwarf nodded.

“Yes, Uncle. That is her.”, the prince answered, “Tabrok?”

“Yes, King Thorin. That is the one they call Mabrotnosh.”, now you saw the ex-slave standing next to the King.

“Dwalin?”, he asked an unspoken question.

“She did not resist, and followed every order.”, he sounded almost surprised.

Every single pair of eyes was concentrated on you.

“Why am I here?”, you finally asked, “If you wanted me dead you would not have treated my as good as you did.”

“Why do you think we want to see you dead?”, this time it was the blond prince asking and you answered.

“Of all these dwarfs present, you and Tabrok(?), should know best why I think that.”

“And that is exactly the reason why you are here.”, it was the king. “You saved my nephew and were nearly killed in the process. I want you to thank you for this. But you are right, this is not he only reason why you are here. It was the reason how found you though. Bring him in!”.

The last part was a direct order and not long after the sound of many armored boots echoed through the hall.

Turning around towards the sounds, you noticed thirty dwarfs that surrounded a much larger figure walking towards you.

An Orc.

Dressed in leather armor and wearing a warg- skin on its head.

“Drago.”, you breathed in confusion and wonder, “What-”

“He surrendered earlier this morning close to the boarder of our territory. He was bearing a message.”

“A message?”

“Yes, a message regarding your person.”

“I don´t understand.”

“You see, we were awaiting the arrival of a large caravan of our people migrating to our new home. They were intercepted in a small canyon by a band of orcs. Five hundred lives. Woman, children and men are in the hands of those orcs. The orc you see over there was bearing a message. If we want so see our folk again we have to return their own. Their Queen for the lives of our people. A queen no one knew about. A queen no one had even heard about. You must understand the dilemma we faced. They want us to return something we did not even know we have.“, the advisor continued for the king.

In the meantime Drago and his guards had stopped close enough for you to see his red eyes. Your guard growled, his throat and chest visibly vibrating, in anger or threat you did not know.

“Mabrotnosh. I am sorry that I could not protect you from harm as I had sworn.”, he bowed his head, “But I will make it up to you. I came to bring you home.”

“They said you have taken hostages. Is that true?”, you asked.

“Yes. My orcs are in charge under Ska´al´s command. They are ordered to not harm anyone until your save return.”

“Who gave the order?”, you breathed, needing to know if Azog was still alive, or who now was ruling over your fate, “Was it Azog, or maybe Bolg?”

“You are our Queen.”, was the only answer he gave.

“What if I do not want to go back? Not after what happened to me?”, you demanded to know, the question meant for both dwarf and orc.

The prince was the first to answer. “Then we will have to fight to free our people. Many will die. Many will suffer. My brother and I might lose our mother.”

“Nothing will happen to you, ze Mabrotnosh. We can arrange for you to stay in different quarters. You chose who gets close to you”

You were able to hear the hidden plea in his voice and thought about thinking to return to the mountain.

If you don´t, then hundreds of lives were in danger. Their blood would be on your hands.

Without saying a word, or thinking, you turned around and walked the same way back from once you had come. Well, you tried as well as it worked with your blinded eye. Footsteps followed you, multiple dozens, and you heard someone shout after you.

But you ignored it, only coming to a stop a hundred meters away from the main gate and whistled. One loud high-pitched whistle.

It did not take long for a shadow to close in on you. A shadow on four legs. A shadow with ice blue eyes and sharp teeth.

“Unless you want me to walk all the way to the exchange, I do not recommend shooting or hurting him in any way or form.”, you declared, staring the closest dwarf down that had drawn his weapon.

“Hello Akul. I knew you had stayed close.”, you hummed into the black fur of your warg, “And you have become so big in just five months.”

“Is that your decision?”, King Thorin asked one last time.

“What is one life in exchange for hundreds? Mine was over the day my village was raided.” It was more than a statement than an answer.

“So be it. Dwalin, you know what to do. Bring back our people.”, he ordered and within twenty minutes one hundred dwarfs were mounted on war- goats and ready to ride alongside Drago and you.

-..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..

Close after midday of the second day, the camp that held the hostages came in sight at the horizon.

“We will return to our people, than yours can return to you.”, Drago declared and with no way of arguing or demanding another way, the dwarfs accepted.

That was how you rode alongside your guard into the camp, where every single eye was on you.

“Drago, give the order to let them go unharmed. And then let us leave.”, you ordered and he nodded.

“Get ready to depart! Leave the Dwarfs unharmed. We ride to Moria.”

The two of you stopped in the center of the area, when a dwarrowdam caught your attention. She was clutching her side and looked scared.

“What happened to her?”, you asked no one in particular.

“An orc happened, what do you think?”, another dwarrowdam laughed dryly. She looked an awful lot like the king.

“Which orc did it?”

“Blue skin and white markings.”, she answered with a bit of wonder in her eyes.

“Find him and bring him here.” you ordered and five orcs scurried into every direction. It did not take long for them to find three Orcs fitting the description the dwarrow had given you.

“Who of you hurt the female?”, you demanded to know, “Answer me. It was ordered to not hurt them and yet someone did. That order was given in my absence but in my name. So who of you did go against it?”

The orc in the center and the one on the right looked buffed, it was obvious to you that it wasn´t them. The third one behaved like a little child or dog, he looked everywhere but at you.

“You two,”, you motioned at the two innocent ones, “can return to whatever you were doing. You”, pointing at the third orc,” will answer my question now. Tell me the truth and no harm will come by you from any orc or dwarf. And if I don´t like the answer, you will be banished from the orcs of Moria.”

Dammit, when they want me to be their queen, I can behave like one and use my powers to save others, and maybe change the way the orcs behave.

“Now tell me: did you attack the female, and why did you do it?”

“I wanted to have her, but she refused.”, he sneered and the fierce looking dwarrow clutched her fists.

“Understood. As you can belief, I do not like that answer. Because you behaved unprovoked. If she had tried to kill you and you were merely protecting yourself. I would have understood. But like this. Leave this camp at once. Do not look back. If any Orc sees you from now on, he will be allowed to kill you and will not be punished for it.”

The orc snarled at you, showing his sharp teeth and almost white eyes. He tried to intimidate you into rethinking you judgment, but an even deeper growl from both Drago and Akul had him whimper in submission.

“Mabrotnosh.”, he nodded before standing up and turning towards the trees.

“You let him leave without any harsh punishment? How dare you to speak like this for us dwarfs?”, the king´s twin fumed, “letting him go with the promise that no harm will come at him. He will continue his dark thoughts. He will be looking for his next target.”

“You did not listen. I exclaimed that no DWARF or ORC will be causing him harm. I said nothing about the wargs. Sometimes, predators should know how pray feels like. Don´t you think? Drago, I believe your Wargs have not been hunting for weeks now, am I right? Give him another half an hour, then send them out with one of your riders . Make sure to bring me back his head.”

“My Mabrotnosh.”, he smirked, giving the order to one orc you knew to be Nasck.

“There is a little army send by your King waiting a few leagues down that way. You are free to go and join them. Once the Wargs have returned we will be leaving for Moria. It is your choice when to leave to your blood.”

“Who are you?”, the dark haired dwarrow finally asked the question that was plaguing her mind since the first second she had seen you.

“I am (y/n). I was taken from my village by the pale Orc Azog. Everyone else was killed. He took me with him and made me his Mate, his wife it seems. And apparently that also made me the Queen of the orcs of Moria. Most of these orcs you see here, at least the bigger ones of them, have become my personal guard. Apparently they made it their task, to get me back from the life I was given after the battle of the five armies, and took you as hostages to force King Thorin to release me. This is a hostage exchange.”

She looked baffled. “But in the end, you are nothing more than a hostage yourself. One with a lot of power, but still a prisoner or hostage. If you ever need advice or just an ear that listens, send a raven. My name is Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thor, and sister to the foolish king under the Mountain and mother to two sometimes idiotic princes. Should you ever feel the need to relocate your home. You will always be welcomed by me. You gave up your freedom to return ours. Farewell Queen (y/n). May you live long and prosper.”

“Farewell Lady Dis. May I ask you a favor before you go though? Tell your sons to not walk into an enemy fortress alone. Next time, there might me no one to save them like it happened during the battle.”

“THEY DID WHAT? I will tan their hides so long they can´t sit for months. They told me they were taken from the edge of the battlefield. And my doofus of brother …. Thank you for this information.”, now grumbling and muttering, Lady Dis walked over to the injured woman.

“WE WILL BE LEAVING NOW! PACK YOUR THINGS!”, she ordered and within fifteen minutes no Dwarf was in sight anymore.

“I changed my mind. Send out your wargs. And then we will return to Moria.”, you spoke, knowing Drago was standing behind you.

“Nasck will leave at once.”

Growling and snarling went through the camp when the Wargs gathered to hunt, Nasck mounted his warg and the hunt began.

.--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--.

“Nasck has returned.”

“Send the head to the dwarf as a sign that I kept my word.”

“I will Mabrotnosh. What then?”,Ska´al asked.

“Then we will return to Moria.”

“Yes Mabrotnosh. Let´s return home.”

Home. My new home. What ever there will be waiting for me.

Part 16

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Hi all! I love hearing all of your theories and thoughts, thank you so much! I'm having a brilliant time writing and am so excited, as things are about to start happening! :D Enjoy! <3

Chapter 4: The Board Is Set

London, Late 19th Century

Back in the TARDIS, as they set off, Yaz felt a little more in her element. She joined the Doctor at the console while Vastra and Jenny equipped themselves with Samurai swords and Strax checked through his grenade packs. The Doctor was quiet and deep in thought.

“So… you’re married.“ Yaz said after a while of watching her fiddle with the controls without doing much. The course was set and the TARDIS knew the way.

“Hm.“ The Doctor wasn’t quite paying attention to her.

“It’s just that… you never mentioned and you’re not wearing a wedding ring.“ Yaz observed, her voice soft. She sensed it was difficult for her friend to talk about but she wanted to understand. Why had she never mentioned River before?

The Doctor didn’t answer and Yaz felt her heart sink. Maybe she was not quite ready to confide in her yet. Defeated, she was just about to turn and head back to the others, but the Doctor finally spoke up:

“I lost it…“

“Oh…“ Yaz didn’t know what to say, that wasn’t the response she had expected.

“When I regenerated, it was too big and it just slipped off… and then, the TARDIS turned on its side and exploded and I fell… and…“ The Doctor broke off. “I didn’t even look for it…“ She admitted meeting Yaz’s eyes at last. “It was easier… not the have the constant reminder… when I knew we wouldn’t see each other again.“

“Why wouldn’t you?“ Yaz asked with a frown. From what she had gathered about their relationship so far, there was no way of knowing when and if they would see each other again.

“Our time is up.“ The Doctor gave a sad smile. She tried her best to be patient, to explain, but she didn’t expect Yaz to understand.

“You can’t know that. Even you can’t know what your future holds.“ Yaz crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing her ground, but the Doctor just gave a bitter laugh and a shake of her head, returning her attention to the console. “Doctor you have a child!“ Yaz exclaimed, she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. She was growing more frustrated by the minute. She understood the pain and heartbreak the Doctor surely felt for the loss of her wife. She sympathised with the confusion and fear about these new revelations. Nevertheless, surely, amongst it all, her friend must have realised that she had gained something incredible as well. She had a child! Maybe not here and yes, terrible scary things were happening, but she had a child. Something incredibly precious her late wife had left behind and surely that was cause for joy, even during the darkest moments.

“Yaz, stop it, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.“ The Doctor interrupted her firmly. “You don’t know what my relationship with River has been like. What we’ve been through. And the pain for knowing how we would end up. I’m not going to walk out of this with a family!“ The Doctor’s voice cracked ever so slightly. “If we somehow, miraculously manage to find this child…“

“Your child, your son.“ Yaz interjected firmly.

“Even if we find him and if he’s okay, it doesn’t bring her back. River will still be gone. Our son will never see his mother again. We will never be a family.“ There was a bitter sadness to her voice.

“Does he have a name? Did the Professor say what he was called?“ Yaz looked to Vastra who pretended like they hadn’t been listening in.

“No. She said that was a decision she wanted to make with the Doctor.“ Vastra answered promptly.

“Perhaps that’s something you can decided when you talk to your wife again and tell her he’s safe. You can decide that as a family.“ Yaz turned back to the Doctor who chose not to answer, she returned her attention to the console.

Yaz squared her jaw, frustrated. While she didn’t have the sprawling knowledge of the Doctor’s past the others seemed to have, she felt like she had heard enough to understand what was going on. She tried to be sympathetic towards the Doctor’s struggle but she couldn’t grasp why she was shutting herself off so completely. There had to be more to it. The Doctor was not the same since prison, since whatever happened on Gallifrey. All the Doctor had told her was that the Master had died and the planet was a wasteland. She refused to speak of anything beyond that, no matter how much she pushed.

Yaz was about to protest, demand a reaction, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked around to Vastra who gave her an understanding smile, as well as a firm indication to leave it for the time being.

“Where are we going?“ The lizard woman turned to the Doctor, changing the subject.

“Old acquaintance, you’ll remember him well.“ The Doctor answered in an off-hand sort of way as she straightened herself up and checked the contents of her pockets like a soldier readying their weapons. The comparison hadn’t occurred to Yaz before now but it suddenly felt most appropriate. “The TARDIS has a fix on him, though he’s not where I expected he would be…“

“How about filling those in that haven’t been travelling with you since the dawn of time?“ Yaz pipped up, frustrated for feeling out of the loop again. “Where are we going?“

“There is no business like information and there is someone that has done very well for himself out of it.“ The Doctor worked the controls and the TARDIS wheezed as it landed.

“Armed and ready, Sir!“ Strax announced removing the safety of his blaster rifle. He looked ecstatic for being back in Sontaran armour and Yaz had to admit he looked a more normal sight now than he had in his butler’s uniform.

“Perhaps going in all guns blazing might not be required?“ Jenny suggested pushing Strax’s gun down. She did, however, keep her hand firmly on the hilt of her sword. There was no way of knowing what they would encounter once they left the relative safety of the TARDIS.

“It is exactly what’s required, carry on Strax, I’m not here to mess around.“ The Doctor interrupted as she headed for the door.

“We might make a Sontaran soldier of you yet, Sir!“ Strax grinned with excitement.

“Doctor…“ Vastra, always the voice of reason, tried to intervene but the Doctor cut her off:

“I don’t want to hear it.“ She opened the door and stepped outside.

“She’s not right…“ Yaz whispered to Vastra as they followed.

“No she’s not. But that’s what we’re here for.“ The Silurian replied and they stepped out of the TARDIS as well.

“Wow…“ Yaz was at a loss for words at first. She felt like they had just walked into the iconic Mos Eisly Cantina from Star Wars. The lighting was dim, there was music playing and aliens upon aliens of all shapes and sizes occupied tables and bar stools. The chatter of dozens of foreign languages added to the other-worldliness of the place. It took a moment for the TARDIS’s translation matrix to set in with as many languages as this. “That’s a lot of aliens in one place.“ Was the best observation Yaz could manage.

“That’s probably what they thought of us as we piled out of the TARDIS.“ Vastra commented in amusement as they closed the door behind them.

“This way.“ The Doctor didn’t give them time to linger and look around, she pushed ahead through the crowd. Yaz could feel everyone’s eyes on them, their obvious display of weapons probably didn’t help. Judging by the variety of dangerous creatures around them, however, she was glad they would be able to defend themselves if it came to it.

“What is this place?“ Yaz asked, falling into step with Jenny. She didn’t want to keep bothering Madame Vastra with her questions, her scaly expression had turned very serious indeed; her human wife seemed more approachable.

“This is the Maldovarium.“ Jenny answered with a pleasant smile. “A popular trading hub, black market basically. Everything you could possibly need you can find here.“ She explained as she looked around the bar.

“Like information?“ Yaz concluded.

“Dorium Maldovar’s speciality.“ Vastra added turning her head towards the two humans as they came to a halt. “He is an acquaintance of the Doctor’s and their wife…“

“Welcome!“ As if on cue, a boastful voice greeted them. It belonged to a very large man of distinctive blue skin. He was dressed in exquisite robes of silky materials and spread his arms out in greeting. Even amongst the other colourful aliens, he stood out.

“But I do remember him to be a little less of a man, last we saw him…“ Vastra carried on under her breath as they stepped closer.

“Did he grow a new body?“ Jenny whispered back.

“It would take years to cultivate a body that size.“ Strax added in his usual loud voice.

“Don’t be rude, Strax.“ Vastra chastised him and the Sontaran rolled his eyes. Yaz couldn’t quite follow their line of conversation but she hoped it would make sense to her later.

“We need to talk, Dorium.“ The Doctor walked right up to the blue man who looked at her surprised.

“And who, pray tell, are…“ He didn’t seem to recognise her at first, not until the Doctor’s companions stepped into the light as well. “Madame Vastra. Miss Flint. Commander Strax…“ Dorium seemed to be going a paler shade of blue all of a sudden.

“We might want to handle this in private.“ Vastra advised, scanning the room for possible eavesdroppers, but the Doctor was too impatient:

“Have you spoken to my wife recently?“ She asked, stepping into his personal space.

“Doctor, is it really…“ He looked her up and down and it was difficult to tell whether he was actually taken aback by her change of body or if he was playing for time.

“Don’t give me that, as if you haven’t got pictures of all my faces by now, very little passes through this universe without you knowing. Have you spoken to River?“ The Doctor bit back sharply. She didn't have time for games.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ Dorium feigned innocence but there was a measure of nervousness to his voice.

“Don’t make me come back there.“ The Doctor lowered her voice threateningly.

“Doctor, I speak to so many people every day. Professor Song, being a long standing customer and dare I say, friend, of course I talk…“ Dorium started rambling but the Doctor interrupted him.

“What exactly did you tell her.“ She pressed on.

“I haven’t seen the Professor in a very long time, as I understand it, condolences are in order, Doctor…“ Dorium started again but the Doctor grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. Around them, several patrons started to take notice and Yaz watched, getting slightly unnerved, as Vastra and Jenny pulled their swords out halfway, in warning.

“Do not mess with me, Dorium, I am having a very bad day.“ The Doctor growled. “Strax, see that pillar behind the bar?“ She carried on without looking around.

“Yes?“ Strax said slowly, surprised to be called upon. He spotted the pillar in question.

“It’s a generator.“ The Doctor revealed something she had noticed straight away upon entering the bar. “Use it for target practice.“

“No!“ Dorium exclaimed but Strax was quicker.

“Yes!“ He grinned in excitement and fired at the structure. All the lights went out and Dorium vanished in a flash. There was shouts of confusion at the sudden darkness and several weapons discharged as their owners feared attack. Chaos ensured until finally the back up generators kicked in and emergency lighting came on.

“Alright, alright, someone show them back here.“ A voice called from somewhere in the back of house and a waiter gestured for the Doctor to follow.

“Solidograms, nice trick.“ The Doctor stated as they walked into the back area. The projection, though solid and life like, had not been able to fool her. Amongst ornate decorations and piles of art, wealth and treasure, they found the real Dorium Maldovar. Yaz nearly fell over her own feet, startled to see Dorium’s balled head but little else. It sat in a wooden box atop a desk.

——

Sheffield, 2021

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what is it we’re dealing with?“ Graham set down a fresh cup of tea in front of Kate.

“UNIT didn’t just cease operations for no reason and of its own accord.“ Kate revealed as she leaned forward and picked up the cup, some conversations were better had over a cup of tea. “Someone wanted us out of the way.“

“How do you know that?“ Graham asked sitting down again as well.

“When the defence budget was being discussed in a closed session, the director of UNIT and two supporting MPs were due to give statements. It was only a formality, the budget was due to be granted as it always has been.“ Kate started explaining.

“What happened?“ Ryan asked confused as to what could possibly have gone wrong if it had never been an issue before?

“The day of the session, all three advocates simply didn’t show up for their testimony.“ Kate gave a shrug.

“What? All three of them?“ Ryan frowned and Graham agreed:

“That’s one hell of a coincidence.“

“As a result, the budget was cut and UNIT had to cease operations.“ Kate carried on and took a sip of her tea. “Obviously, myself and many colleagues were shocked and went looking for answers as to why they didn’t show up.“

“And you found they’d been… what? Killed?“ Graham jumped to the most obvious, grim solution. If someone wanted UNIT out of the way they probably were planning something big. If this wasn’t about the Daleks, then who was behind it?

“Worse.“ Kate retorted.

“Don’t like the sound of that.“ Ryan shook his head, exchanging a concerned glance with his grandfather. This sounded exactly like the sort of thing they had been planning on protecting Earth from while the Doctor was away.

“They appeared to never have excited.“ Kate stated, looking into stunned faces. “The budget committee had no record of them being due to speak, in fact, Parliament had no recollection of the two MPs ever being elected.“

“What? They just disappeared?“ Graham asked, confused.

“Not just them, any record of them, any memory…“ Kate carried on, though she seemed to be having trouble phrasing her own thoughts. “The only reason I can tell you about this is because I read the file again on the way here. And even the files… they just… fade after a while. As does my memory. We have to keep reminding ourselves… and some details are lost already, like their names, what they looked like… it’s like they’re being erased.“ She broke off as she struggled to think of anything else to say.

“But that’s not possible.“ Graham crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You can’t just erase people.“

“I’m afraid it is, this is why we need your help.“ Kate gave them an apologetic smile. She realised they had probably been hoping for a break from the adventure, returning to their lives, as they had made the choice to stay on Earth but it couldn’t be helped.

“How can we help? We literally have a physic paper to our name, that’s about it.“ Ryan admitted. This felt like a tall order to tackle without the Doctor.

“There is one thing we have noticed. The memory loss seems to effect some people more than others. Like I said, the members of Parliament didn’t recall their colleagues whom they served with a mere day after the hearing. Even after reminding them, they can’t recall. Some of us at UNIT, however, seem to be able to retain the memories for a while, so long as we keep refreshing it.“ Kate explained.

“Why do you think that is?“ Ryan and Graham exchanged concerned glances again.

“The only correlation we have been able to find is the Doctor. The more time each of us has spent with them, the more… resilient out memory appears to be to change.“ Kate revealed, though she couldn’t quite make sense of it herself yet. They had a long way to go but this was a start. “That’s why I’m here, asking for your help, you are uniquely qualified.“

——

The Maldovarium, 52nd Century

“Well, I can’t very well be greeting customers in my current state.“ Dorium huffed as they came to stand around the desk where he could see them.

“Talking of current state, last I saw you, you were in the Seventh Transept.“ The Doctor observed looking around. Dorium had done well for himself, he was back in business. “It’s not like you walked out of there by yourself, is it.“ She returned her attention to the head on the box.

“I may have had some assistance, yes. You do realise I’m very well connected.“ Dorium pointed out and the Doctor huffed:

“You were sitting in the Transept for decades after Demon’s Run, you don’t expect me to believe that suddenly, miraculously, one of your cronies turns up to save you long last.“ She shook her head.

“Why are you here, Doctor?“ Dorium asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I told you, I need to know exactly what you told my wife.“ She answered. “And I would like to know how you know about it.“

“Well, it’s nothing really, just gossip, she likes me to keep her informed whenever new information about you arises.“ Dorium explained reluctantly. “I daresay, she would be delighted if I send her word of your change of complexion…“

“And what new information was that?“ The Doctor demanded to know, frustrated with his evasive answers. “I swear Dorium, if you don’t tell me right now, I will put your head on a spike outside your bar!“ She leaned onto the desk threateningly.

“Inspired choice of decor, Sir, if I might say.“ Strax threw in.

“Strax.“ Jenny sighed but no-one paid attention to his comment.

“Well, it was the first I’d heard of it anyway and I haven’t since.“ Dorium sighed, realising it was in his best interest to just come out with it. “The Timeless Child… I wouldn’t have connected it to you, had they not specifically said it related to you in some way.“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise. It sounded as though someone had told Dorium on purpose. Someone had betrayed the secret of the Time Lords.

“That’s not something you just let slip.“ The Doctor shook her head firmly. After ages of burying the secret deep, there was no way anyone would just unearth and chat about it to just anyone. She also couldn’t imagine anyone would want to save Dorium without an ulterior motive? “Did they tell you to pass it on to River?“

“No, but I thought it would be just the thing she would want to know about. So as soon as I got home, I sent word to Darillium.“ Dorium answered. “You’re acting like I did something wrong.“

“Who was it that told you about this?“ The Doctor ignored his offended tone.

“The person that retrieved you from the Transept?“ Vastra suggested, sensing that it was all somehow connected. Her detective work had taught her never to ignore coincidence. Dorium’s silence was confirmation enough.

“That’s how it started, they must have done it on purpose. They knew you would pass the message along and that River would feel the need to investigate it.“ The Doctor mused, turning back to the others. She tried her hardest to keep her emotions under wrap but she felt the anger searing her insides. “It’s all part of a plan, part of a… game.“

“But why?“ Yaz asked, confused.

“Perhaps to make her leave Darillium? And your protection? And with her, your child?“ Jenny suggested.

“If they had been as calculating as that, they could have grabbed River the moment she left and kept hold of her until she gave birth.“ The Doctor shook her head, it didn't seem to make sense.

“They might not have if they realised how complicated her timeline was. She is a complex space time event like yourself. Her death was already a fixed point, intercepting her could have…“ Vastra pointed out.

“You’d need understanding of the time streams for that, you’d have to be…“ The Doctor mused.

“A Time Lord?“ Vastra prompted and the Doctor turned back towards Dorium.

“Who saved you from the Transept?“ The Doctor asked as the others exchanged concerned glances. “Who’s game is this?“

“Come to think of it, they didn’t actually give a name…“ Dorium mused before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“How convenient.“ Jenny huffed.

“I thought it was you at first. Not very many people are in possession of a TARDIS these days but judging by your expression, it probably wasn’t.“ Dorium explained, giving a defeated sigh.

“A TARDIS?“ Yaz exclaimed surprised and unsettled while the Doctor kept her expression stoic.

“What did they look like.“ She asked.

“Well, he was male… dark hair, beard… not very tall… but then, it’s hard to judge height when you’re sitting in a box…“ Dorium answered reluctantly.

“Doctor, do you think it could be…“ Yaz felt her stomach turn as the description sounded terribly familiar.

“He’s dead. The Master is dead.“ The Doctor snapped, refusing to entertain the thought.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong about that.“ Vastra pointed out more calmly.

The Doctor’s mind was racing. The Master was the only person who knew about the Timeless Child but she firmly believed that he had perished on Gallifrey at the release of the death particle. Surely no-one, not even the Master could survive that, could they?

Suddenly the atmosphere around them changed. The temperature jumped twenty degrees and screams sounded from the adjourning bar.

“What is going on?“ Yaz asked dizzy from the sudden change. Jenny drew her sword, as if awaiting an attacker to emerge. She looked to Vastra with great concern, she knew her cold-blooded wife would struggle with the sudden heat. Vastra was quick to throw her coat off, looking around as well, trying to keep her breathing steady. Strax backed up to the door, looking back into the bar.

“The cowards have run away.“ He announced when he realised the bar was empty.

The Doctor stood petrified for a moment, her senses overwhelmed.

“Something is happening to time.“ She breathed, feeling it in her very bones. The time line of the planet was in flux and it left her disoriented.

“What’s happening?“ Vastra breathed heavily and loosened the collar of her shirt.

“Doctor?“ Dorium called from his box. “Are you responsible for this?“

“Should I shoot something again? Perhaps the heating?“ Strax suggested.

Finally, the Doctor managed to shake off the confusion and she rushed to a window. Her eyes took a moment to adjust as she looked out. Gone was the dreary cold landscape and perpetual twilight of the unnamed planetoid Dorium had set up shop on. A blazing sun had appeared in the sky, practically cooking the surface below.

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #10: Green Like Flowers

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: mild angst

The train whistled as it left the station. A piercing scream, cutting through the dewy darkness of early morning. Birds, startled awake from their nightly slumber, took to the sky. Fleeing like their wings were on fire, up and away from branches that were all but safe a few moments before. Their small black bodies quickly lost to a sky that had not yet been kissed by an unforgiving sun.

The engine chugged, rhythmically turning large, cold steel wheels. Pulling both itself and its posy of railcars along with it. Quickly picking up speed, outside one of the windows; a dog ran alongside the tracks. His tongue hanging outside his large muzzle, flopping with each bounding leap. He ran on a well-worn path, a frequent activity. The further the train went, the more he fell behind until Elsa could no longer see him. So too did the path fade. Giving way to leaf-covered ground and sparse trees. The click-clack of the train melted into nothing, like the ocean waves when one lives by the sea.

Elsa Settled into her seat but dared not to rest. Her mind racing fasting then the landscape outside the window. The train was still mostly empty, many seats were vacant. She glanced around, taking everything in without fear of looking creepy. The floor was carpet tiles, frayed on every edge but free of at least large debris. The seats, two on each side of the aisle, were a worn blue fabric. Each headrest was adorned with stark white doctor’s table paper. Fluorescent lightbulbs of varying shades of white and yellow had been illuminating the narrow walkways, now dimmed. Allowing the high-backed seats to cast long shadows.

A few rows back an older man sat slouched in his seat, his fedora, which had seen better days, was pulled down to cover his eyes. The ghost of a beard was painted across a jaw held tight by clenched teeth. Next to him, an older woman sat, knitting with the speed of a youth long past. She was counting to herself or perhaps singing. Her thin lips moving in unison with dancing needles. So the yarn was tugged and so too the corners of her mouth.

In another row a small child was fast asleep, curled into his’s mother’s side. The woman’s head tilted back, mouth agape. She wore what looked to be a brand new hoodie, a large sports logo plastered across the chest. It wasn’t a team Elsa recognized, the child shifted slightly, and they too wore a matching hoodie.

Elsa turned back so she was facing forward once more. She glanced out the smudged windows to see the faintest hint of light, peeking over the horizon. And she took a moment to marvel at the fact she had to travel North, then West, then South, then West again just to reach the opposite coast. All the years of human advancements and there still wasn’t a train that simply went East to West. Instead, it zig-zagged across rivers, over the plains, and through mountains.

A movement to her left caused her to turn. A man about her age sat restlessly in his seat. Large headphones completely engulfed his ears. One hand clutching a phone, the other gesturing wildly through the air - pointer finger and thumb fully extended with the remaining fingers ever so slightly curved inward. His voice was barely above a whisper, Elsa had to strain to hear the words which were choppy, loose, but forever moving forward like a rushing stream over stones.

Just then the door between cars slid open, spilling the outside in. Chains rattled, wind blew, the click-clack of the track demanded attention. And standing there, a young ember, sparking as intense eyes surveyed the nearly empty train car before settling on Elsa and finally flicking to the seat next to her. The door closed as if in agreement and the woman floated over. Two copper veins of braids framed a speckled face. She smiled and sat down without asking.

“I’m Anna,” she said, it wasn’t a comment or an introduction, it was a commanding statement. She was Anna and whoever she was, Elsa had no choice but to deal with the sudden intrusion.

“Elsa.” She replied, trying to match the other’s tone.

This earned a nod from Anna, her head tipping back, chin raised for a brief moment before landing in neutral again. Silence settled like a heavy fog. Elsa was never good at small talk. Through the defining silence, she heard the ticking of knitting needles and soft rap lyrics start again. Nothing from the mother or child, this new woman’s entrance had not been enough to wake them from slumber.

“Where are you headed?” Anna asked, keeping her voice low.

“San Francisco,” Elsa replied, trying to ignore how much the woman’s eyes stabbed right through her.

“Oh what?!?” she paused to take a breath and bring her volume back down. “I’m going there too, maybe we can be train buddies!”

And suddenly the flames that protected the young woman from the outside world parted and Elsa saw, not a commanding bitch of a woman, but an innocence - a kindness that she hadn’t seen in a person in a long time.

“Buddies,” Elsa repeated slowly as if tasting the word for the first time.

This earned another smile from Anna, who had either not noticed Elsa’s lack of enthusiasm or chose to ignore it.

“Well it’s what like, 15 days to get from here,” she pointed beyond Elsa to the series of trees whipping past the window. “Aaaall the way over to there. So I think, it would be nice to have someone to talk to, have meals with, maybe exchange playlists…”

“I mean I don’t know,” she pulled her arms in like pulling a trenchcoat closed. She dared not to let the demons out nor let any new evil in. She hated meeting new people, hated that period of time when stupid questions are asked. Hated, even more, when the friendship was temporary, formed for convenience rather than growth. Why spend all that time putting cereal in a bowl piece by price only to find out theres no milk.

Elsa was not yet old in the traditional sense, but she had lived many lifetimes. Broken enough hearts and had enough hearts be broken, both from love and friendship, to waste even more hourglass sand on the freckled book in the seat next to hers.

“No offense but I don’t really know you.”

Anna laughed, a full-bellied laugh that had her eye squeezed shut and her head tipped back against the paper covering the headrest. Elsa felt her face start to numb and fought the urge to bounce her leg. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she turned her head to study the trees.

“We can be train buddies while we get to know each other. Like, we might as well anyway, seeing as we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other anyways.”

Elsa didn’t turn her head, “It is a long train.”

“Yes and no, the length? Sure. But there’s the cargo cars, the sleeper cars, the dining cars, the private cars, and THEN there’s the passenger cars like this one. Sooo I think I’m gucci when I say; we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Gucci?” Elsa turned, pulled by the odd choice of word. She was met with yet another smile from her unwanted companion and she regretted turning at all.

“Yeah you know, ‘it’s gucci’ or ‘it’s all good’ same thing.” Anna shrugged but otherwise didn’t move, oblivious to Elsa’s inner turmoil and discomfort, instead, she used this as an opening. Like a racer who finally found a way to pass the leader.

“So, let’s just get all the weird basic stuff out of the way. I’m Anna like I said. I’m from Tennessee, born there, lived there, and went to school there. My favorite color is green. I don’t have any pets or siblings. My parents are divorced but they kinda get along. And I fly drones and do photos for realtors. In my spare time, I like watching movies and pretending to read.”

Behind them, the child resting against his mother stirred, his muffed words, likely exaggerated, were somehow loud enough to be heard over everything else. When his mother didn’t respond, he yawned louder till she awoke will a start. Immediately the child leapt up and took off running towards the door Anna came through. Elsa feared he would open it but he waited, bouncing on his heels till his mother, groggy with sleep and not yet aware of the world, shuffled over. Together they disappeared through the door.

“Aaaand you?” Anna asked. Elsa sighed, the reprieve caused by the commotion had ended and she found herself backed into a corner. She had to at least give some answer or she feared the girl would never leave.

“I’m Elsa, I am from the East Coast. I have a master’s degree. I enjoy the color blue.”

A few beats passed, the train clicking along the tracks. The sun was higher now, its warm beams reaching out at greedy fingers, casting golden whispers within the other girl’s braids.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“I told you so much more. Are you one of the people who can’t open up and I have to ask a bunch of questions to get them to talk?”

Elsa flinched, she was one of those people. But she didn’t like being called out so directly like that.

Anna smirked, catching the flinch. “I’ll make it less of an interrogation and more of an exchange, so it’s not so scary, alright?”

Elsa nodded, it was actually a good solution to this trap she was in, as much as it pained her to admit that.

“I’m moving to San Francisco or the outskirts at least. What about you?”

“More or less, the same.”

“I have a job lined up with a big real estate firm downtown, I start at the end of the month. And you?”

“At the end of the month, I will be starting my job as well.”

Anna sighed and shifted in her seat, readying a new approach like a hunter with a spear. “So why the train?”

Elsa felt her face redden and she mumbled a quick “I just felt like it.”

And in the spear went, embedded deep within. Its jagged backwards teeth holding it in place. It wasn’t a good answer. It was a very bad answer, one that said too much without saying much at all.

“Oh come on, that’s not an answer!” Anna waited a beat for Elsa to answer before pressing further. “So I’ll ask again, why the train? And this time, no mumbling, I need you to say it… out loud.”

Elsa exhaled through her nose. And opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. She was at the crossroads of telling a stranger a lie or speaking the truth into existence for the first time. Giving a name to the shadow of guilt that hung over her, maybe it would let go and take with it this spear. Maybe still the light that so gently clung, in a smooth loving caress to Anna’s skin would, if only for a moment, grant her one kiss of its warmth. And so she chose the path, and took a deep breath, and pushed forward.

“I left my husband at the altar. I packed as much as I could into a few pieces of luggage, and hopped on the first train headed west.”

For once, since their meeting, Anna was quiet and Elsa suddenly felt the need to fill the silence.

“I left him my car and anything I didn’t pack, like the dog and my piano. I quit my pointless job as an actuarial analyst via email right before I boarded the train.”

Anna exhaled loudly and blinked purposely a few times before speaking, “You.. wow. Just left everything behind huh?”

“I wanted to get out of town quickly. I couldn’t breathe.” Elsa tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“So you chose probably the slowest mode of transportation to go across the entire country, just because you ‘felt like it’?”

“I figured it would be a fun adventure and give me time to think.”

Anna laughed, “You mean to brood?”

“I didn’t say that”

“Come on Elsa, you weren’t seriously going to mope and look dramatically out the window for 2 weeks were you?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess not.”

“Meaning, yes Anna I was but you called me out on it and now I don’t know what to say. Right?”

Elsa made a face, she had known this woman for less than an hour and she was already so far in her head that Elsa might as well charge her rent. But saying her, what she now saw as reckless and impulsive plan, out loud was freeing.

She felt warmth on the back of her neck and turned back to the window to see the sunlight set fire to a field of corn. Brown wispy tops of long green stocks danced in waves, long endless rows bent and swayed. A lone tree in the middle of the field broke the pattern, the stalks that had come to worship at its feet paid the price for being in the shade. They were shorter and more sparse, yet the further from the tree, the more they grew. The further away from the city, the train went, the more Elsa felt like those corn stalks away from the tree.

+++

The dining car was busier, packed full of life and people. All of whom were in various states of dress. Some sporting loose-fitting sweats, wiping sleep from their eyes. Others in formal business attire, already on their third cup of coffee and 7th morning briefing. The clicking of their keyboards and monotone voices of video calls faded into the conglomerate of sounds contained in the frankly small space.

“Can I get you ladies anything this morning?” a younger woman in uniform asked, she placed two small, single-page menus in front of Elsa and Anna, who each sat on opposite sides of a small booth.

“A coffee and some toast, please.” Elsa handed the menu back, she hadn’t bothered looking, it was a simple basic order that she never struggled to find anywhere she went.

“Umm,” Anna on the other hand was scanning the menu up and down, trying to decide. “Orange juice and a coffee and a bagel with butter instead of cream cheese. Please!” the woman smiled and took her menu, continuing down the row.

It wasn’t long before the food and drinks arrived. Elsa put one sugar in her coffee and sipped it slowly. Outside the large, clean, windows of the dining car, there were vast sprawling fields. It had been only a few days since Anna became her companion and nearly that entire time, the train had seemed to be continually chugging through the same boring field. So much for seeing the country.

Anna dumped several packets of sugar and a few creams into her coffee before taking a large swig and chasing the hot liquid with orange juice. She made a face and busied herself with her bagel.

This is how their mornings went, and it was a comfortable enough routine.

+++

“So listen,” Anna said. They were back in their seats in the passenger car. “The next stop is going to be a long one, apparently there’s a delay further up the tracks and they’re holding us at this next station for a few hours.”

“Yes, I know this. I heard the announcement too.” Elsa mused

“Yeah ok but listen, they said 4 plus hours right? So I googled things around there and I found this!” she handed Elsa her phone, on it was a photo of a waterfall with text below that mentioned a hiking trail.

“I don’t hike, plus I don’t think we have time anyway.” “We wouldn’t BUT! This,” she jabbed the phone screen. “Is a 10-minute walk from the station. See it’s part of a hiking trail but the station itself is a rest stop for the trail. So we’re going.”

There was that commanding presence coming out again. If the waterfall was so close to the station itself, Anna did have a point. So Elsa agreed.

An hour or so later they were stepping off the train onto a dusty brick platform. To call this a station was being generous. There was a small building, which contained two single restrooms, and one vending machine that looked like it hadn’t been serviced in years.

A soft hand grabbed Elsa’s forearm and she found herself being pulled away from the building and towards the beaten path to the waterfall.

+++

“You know, when I left home. No one checked on me. No one text or calls. Not even from my would-be husband.”

“Not text or even a Facebook message?”

“Nope.” Elsa left out a sigh. “I’m not surprised honestly. People say I’m difficult to get to know. At the wedding, the bride’s side was nearly empty. The few people over there just sat there because the groom’s side was full and they wanted a better view.”

Anna picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the stream, it made a soft plop sound before sinking below the surface. “Why did you guys want to get married then?”

“Well,” Elsa chewed on her lower lip for a moment before answering. “When you’re in business people expect things from you. It’s incredibly outdated and sexist too. But you’re expected to have a wife or a husband, expected to have children, expected to own a home, or at least rent somewhere nice. Have a good, clean car, new tech, nice clothes. All those things.”

She paused to copy Anna’s move with the pebble but missed the water completely, the small stone disappearing somewhere in the woods.

“We met at a company gathering and didn’t hate each other. Our drinks were the same, we watched the same evening news, had the same mild interest in the local sports team. It was enough to bolster a conversation. We started dating a few weeks later.”

“What about the wedding?”

Elsa laughed or at least made a sound that was like a laugh. “We had been dating for 2 years. And when I saying dating, I mean we were each other’s plus one to events, and we had dinner together at the nice restaurants. He was up for a promotion, asked if I wanted to get married and I agreed.”

“Wait what, he didn’t romantically propose?”

“No, we were never really intimate. A kiss here and there, maybe a night over to relieve stress. But if I’m honest, we spent most of our time apart and doing our own thing.”

Anna picked up a stick and picked at the bark, her brows pulled together and the ghost of a frown on her face.

“Did you love him?” she asked quietly

Elsa didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to turn her attention to the waterfall. Finally, after a few long minutes of silence, she answered. “No. No, I didn’t love him. And I would bet everything I own that he didn’t love me either.”

This time Anna sighed and scooted closer to Elsa. “You deserve to be loved, Elsa.”

“I’m not sure I even know what love is.”

Anna stood and walked in front of her field of view. Hands on her hips. “Sure you do!”

Elsa responded by standing and making a face.

“Elsa love isn’t a contract, it’s not a business proposal. It’s work and it’s hard but it also good and warm. Love is telling someone about your day and them listening and offering advice. Love is watching a movie together and laughing at the stupid parts. Love is holding someone while they’re sick and telling them dumb jokes to make them feel better. Love is a lot of things, but what love isn’t is convenient.”

“He was very convenient…”

“But was he love?”

“No.”

Anna reached out and took Elsa’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s okay, you know? You’re going to be okay. Fresh coast, fresh start.”

“Fresh coast, fresh start?” Elsa repeated, confused.

“Yeah, you’re moving to the West Coast, fresh coast, to start anew, fresh start.”

“Fresh coast, fresh start.” Elsa said again, “You know what, I like that.”

Anna beamed and that warm feeling prickled on the back of Elsa’s neck again.

+++

“So we have the colors all picked out, purple and green. And my dress is white but it’s ever so slightly green like it will catch the light, it’s so pretty.” Anna said. They were back in the dining car, having just finished dinner. About a week had passed since the waterfall adventure and train was rolling again. This time outside the window the fields were broken by large rocks and streams. Anna had her phone out, swiping through photos of her wedding prep.

“You sound excited,” Elsa commented, taking a sip of wine.

“Oh, I am! It’s going to be a lot of fun…” Anna looked up suddenly and stared right at Elsa. “You should come!”

“You don’t have to invite me.”

“Oh please, we’re like practically sisters at this point. Like I know what brand of tampon you used and I know that you snore when you sleep.”

“That’s… that’s a weird thing to know.”

“Elsa, everyone snores, pay attention, I’m forwarding you the rsvp so you can fill out what type of food you want.”

Elsa had to smile as she pulled out her phone to answer the email. “What a strange trip this has been. One day I’m running from my own wedding, and now I’m getting invited to a stranger’s.”

“Not a stranger, a friend,” Anna added, smiling warmly.

“A friend,” Elsa repeated, genuinely returning Annan’s smile.

“You know I was just sitting in the dining car, having a coffee and playing a pointless game on my phone. When I suddenly just felt this pull to leave. And I followed it blindly till I saw you. Then it’s like everything clicked. I think we were meant to find each other.”

Elsa was quiet for some time, considering this. Anna had swooped into her field of vision and hadn’t left since. And for once she didn’t mind the company. That warm feeling was back and with it, Elsa found herself agreeing. “I think we were meant to find each other too.”

+++

In the morning they would be arriving in San Francisco and would be going their separate ways. It was likely they wouldn’t see each other again. Sure, they had exchanged numbers - but in a city of 3 million people, it was easy to lose a single soul.

She didn’t want to lose Anna though. This blaze of a woman who dared to knock down Elsa’s walls with a bulldozer. She had never really had a close friend, and as Anna, asleep on her shoulder, stirred in response to a dream - Elsa couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it felt like to be loved.

Anna shifted, reaching out her hand, searching for something. Fingers moved with a purpose, slowly curling and uncurling until their ship reached the harbor. And she wrapped them around Elsa’s hand, holding firmly, as if she was once again reading Elsa’s mind and was too, afraid to let her go.

Elsa decided then and there, that this time would be different. This time she wouldn’t close the door on someone. She gave Anna’s hand a slight squeeze, causing Anna to nestle into the old woman’s neck.

Elsa turned to watch the lights from the city fade into the darkness of the desert. Her neck was warm and this time it traveled down and warmed her whole body. She ran a thumb over Anna’s hand and smiled.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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yeoldontknow · 4 years

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Kissing Vermilion: Teaser

aslkdjal i am so much more late with this than i intended to be. getting the pace right on this is proving to be a challenge BUT! heres a small sample of what im trying to have completed by next weekend. this was meant to be up yesterday for joons BD but i was busy and couldnt write as much as i wanted to :((( you can all thank @jamaisjoons for the utter filth that this will become. happy birthday namjoon im sorry im late and will continue to be late *tosses confetti* (sorry theres no graphic im saving it for the full thing eep)

↠ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ↠ Full Story Summary: It was never your intention to sleep with your brother’s best friend, but it happened. It was never your intention to fall in love with him, but it happened. It was never his intention to fall in love with you, either, but it’s happening. Against his better judgement, Namjoon just can’t seem to stay away from you. ↠ Genre: fwb!au; smut; angst; the full story is going to be the most filth ive ever written im so sorry ↠ Rating (teaser): R ↠ Warnings (teaser): nothing terribly smutty but she thinks about it...a lot...theres a lot of mature concepts here ↠ Tentative post date: 9/19

March, 2013

You really must remember to thank your roommate.

As the condensation rolls down the chilled glass of your vodka lemonade, the eyes of the man beside you do their best to stay focused on the lush crimson of your lipstick. Every now and then, at the end of a sentence or at the end of a joke that does not necessarily land, his brows narrow, ensuring his gaze does not fall, lower and lower still, to the provocative shape of the red dress that hugs your body. For the moment, he is nameless, an unintroduced stranger whose eye you caught just by standing next him and ordering a drink. You have not let him go, even as your mind wanders. Or, rather, it's the red that refuses to let him go, red and the way the shade kisses you with reverence.

All your life red has been your dearest companion, your first of many experiences and your best of even more. Red was your first lipstick, a scarlet transgression against your mother at twelve years old. It was sacred only because it was forbidden, the cream from the bullet now a fleeting memory of cracked concrete behind your middle school and the wide eyes of boys passing by, likely wondering if they should tell your brother. Red was your first Solo cup, and the first you’d crushed beneath your spine as you lost your virginity sophomore year.

Red was not your first hickey, and also not your first scarf to cover the evidence, but it was your best one, your most favourite one. It was small, and it burned against your skin for days, the same way your nails ripped scarlet down your boyfriend’s back, the scratches stinging beneath all his shirts. He’d said he loved you, and you believed him, giving him red as a promise of your loyalty. Red was the wine you poured in his bed and the flush against your chest when you found him with another woman, her legs too slow in the effort of unwinding from his hips. Red was his lies, your slap against his cheek, and the paint of Yoongi's car, which you'd borrowed to not lose your campus parking spot.

Red has always been yours, oftentimes the only thing you trust, the only thing that has never let you down. Now, it sits on your skin like you belong to it. You chose the dress for the shade, your roommate made you buy it because of the shape. You don't usually toy with such a deep cut against your back, a low swoop as alluring as the moon and turning the line of your spine into a promise of treasure or victory. But this red turns you into something special, something dangerous.

And now, with his eyes on you, you really must remember to thank her.

The man beside you flashes you a smile he thinks he is dazzling, rolling the base of his whiskey neat in slow circles against the bar top. He waits for you to flush, anticipating a rush of blood to your cheeks or your lips, but you merely offer him a thin lipped smile, remembering to be polite. His eyes dart from your face to the seductive contour of your hips, and back again, and he tries to be respectful, tries to play it off like he's positively twitterpatted, but you can tell. You can always tell.

As his eyes flick away once more, admiring the supple skin of your shoulder, you wonder if you would be interested. Your mind starts to wander for a moment, and you envision yourself leaning close and letting him have his fill. It would be so terribly easy, and you'd let him feel like he'd won even if you had no intention of it going any further than this. If it was just you and just him, you'd be good. At the end of all his jokes, you would laugh and peer at him through the thick curtain of your lashes. At all the right places, you'd rest your hand on his arm and make him believe he mattered. For one night, you would be so good.

But his eyes are on you, the searing heat of Namjoon's intense and focused stare kisses at the small of your back from across the room. He sits at a table with your large group of friends, expression entirely neutral except for the power that lurks ominously in his jaw and dark irises. His gaze has walked from the small of your back to settle at the warm highlight of your cheekbone, and, now, you are aching. Feeling him all over you is just the same as feeling his hands at your throat, your heartbeat rattling in your chest as though lingering on a knife's edge. There's something different about it tonight, about him. There's something different about the way you feel under his unwavering attention, and somewhere amidst the laughing and the talking and the indiscernible number of drinks you have convinced this stranger to buy you, you have started to learn you want Namjoon to stay.

Tonight, you are learning that his attention makes a kingdom bloom beneath your skin, amongst your blood, and you are asking, silently willing, him to claim it.

You should not want him here. You should not want him nestling into crevices long untouched, and long unnoticed. Namjoon unfurls in the spaces between your bones and your joints, curling into the gaps between your ribs, and you wonder if he can feel it. Have you done the same to him, just by standing, and talking, and quietly wanting? If you're being honest, you've always wanted him, at least a little. If you're honest, you can distantly remember the time your brother brought him over their final year of high school and he had grown into the baby fat of his cheeks, his white shirt somehow battling the muscles of his chest for dominance, and his smile, and the dimples he so often kept a secret, felt sweeter to you than honey.

If you're honest, it was your family, the proximity of your relationship to him that decided he was not for you. There’s something forbidden about craving a person you’ve known all your life, someone your brother has spent his whole life calling his best friend. It was your family, and it was Yoongi, who made you turn away from your infatuation. You were eighteen when you finally swallowed your crush on Namjoon whole, convinced you had rid yourself of it while taking the appropriate lesson you were meant to learn: you no longer wanted a boy, you deserved a man, your hunger to be touched deserving of confident, unyielding hands.

So you set your attention on other guys learning how to grow into their adulthood - even if they had never mastered the strength or dominance of it, even if they never tasted quite right against your tongue. It’s been a long time since you have wanted him to look at you like this, even longer since someone has done so without demanding you witness them, without expecting you to bend for them.

Namjoon looks at you like you matter, like you're something worth keeping. He watches you intently, refusing to look away until you are certain he could devour the very flesh of you, and still find away to take more, still find ways to keep all your lonely parts begging for him. He looks at you like he needs you, simultaneously uncovering the terrifying truth that you have always needed him, and as the man beside you slides his phone number over to you on a napkin, a number you know you will lose or forget as soon as it is out of your line of sight, you are certain you are toeing a line that, once crossed, offers no point of return.

'You should come see it.’ Abruptly, your thoughts are broken by the gruff voice of your conversation partner. Raising his voice slightly, he regards you knowingly, silently insisting your attention return to him. 'I think you'd like it.'

Ever since he started speaking to you the conversation has been mundane, likely because every topic of discussion has somehow revolved around or worked its way back to him. There’s an edge of pride in his voice, the sort that expects respect alongside awe for his, ultimately banal, accomplishments. Offering him a small, lopsided smile, you tilt your head to the side and feign interest, exposing more of your smooth skin.

'Oh?' you hum, amused that even something as simple and unaffected as this noise of inquiry will provide him a sense of self-security.

'Yeah, I can show you around.’ He takes a long, slow sip of his whiskey, as if his statement is a promise of something meaningful. ‘You can bring some friends, too, if you want. I admit, the frat is a mess but it's still a good time.'

You’ve forgotten which university he goes to, where he’s from, his name. Idly, you wonder if he’s a member of Namjoon’s friend group, though you doubt it. Over time, your college friends have merged together, Sunhee’s interest in Jackson bringing them together since she met him at the gym. You’re meant to be celebrating her birthday at the table, beside your friends and beside Namjoon. Removing yourself from his orbit has proven to be a test, but, at this angle, Namjoon sees all of you, keeps you rooted to this position at the bar just so he can have his fill, and this, you think, is hardly a sacrifice.

Having nothing to say, you simply nod, offering yet another generic question that will keep him talking and keep Namjoon watching you. 'All frat houses are a mess,' you shrug amiably. 'Do you like the campus?'

Immediately, he begins nodding, lips flattening into a sly grin. 'Yeah, it's a nice place. A little cloistered at times. If you stay too long you feel like you're in a bubble, you know? But I chose it because the law program...'

Tuning his voice out, your focus returns to the raised hair and gooseflesh that dimples along your arms. It’s been months of this, of your friend groups coming together to play matchmaker in the effort of being supportive, and through all of this you have become acquainted with who Namjoon really is when he’s liberated from the influence of childhood. Without your hometown, Yoongi’s deep laugh, or the distant chatter of your parents in the other room, Namoon’s identity has stretched and morphed into something almost unrecognizable in its alluring temptation.

Yoongi makes him warm, soft, a voice of wisdom and reason that has, more often not, left you feeling comforted and protected. At home, he is clumsy, sheepishly so, endearing in the way he trips over his own feet or drops things even if he’s being careful. Namjoon laughs first, even if his laugh is not always the easiest. He is the most curious and, simultaneously, the most distant, miles away in his thoughts even as he considers every word you say. And even tonight, he still is this way, the rich texture of his voice ringing out above the din when he laughs, genuine and encouraging, doing his best to make sure everyone feels comfortable.

But the more you’ve seen him with friends he’s made by choice and by interest, university friends who both challenge and offer a mode of relating to his own adulthood, the more you have watched him separate from the things that made him Joonie. He has become someone who carries eroticism in their bones, his smile no longer just a comfort, but one that is altogether too full of temptation even in its patient inertia.

The confidence in him has your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth every time he's with you, your walls clenching around nothing every time he looks at one of your friends with more than a little interest. Joonie has abandoned the childhood endearment in favor of his whole name, Namjoon a word that gets pressed against his neck and shoulders like a brand. He’s become fluent in more than one language and also in the destructive language of ruin, a single look from him and you feel naked all the way down to your nerves.

Reclining in his seat, his hand moves languidly up and down the glass of his cold beer while he remains poised in his consideration of you, your round ass, and the way you lick your lips to keep them moist when you presume no one is watching. His broad shoulders are rolled back and even when you aren’t looking at him, even when he is not directly in your line of sight, you still toy with the idea of getting on your knees and begging him. For what, you are not certain, but you think it is likely the simple request to stay with him, wherever your feet, your finger, or your bones rest.

You’d like him to invade you like that. You’re certain he’d excel at such a carnal delight.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMJOON #its coming i swear #not tagging a whole shebang because?#its just a teaser lmao #enjoy

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singledarkshade · 3 years

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New Old Friend

Part Six

(Part One, Part Two, Part Three , Part Four and Part Five can be found here)

“So, let me get this straight,” Jack said as he sat at his desk, they’d moved back to the Sheriff’s station after dinner to talk in private, “If you don’t touch this shard, you stay in this universe.”

Rip nodded.

“However,” Henry noted, “From the readings I took back in NASA, the shard remaining here for too long would not be good. The energy from the shard doesn’t match the energy for this universe, and we’ve seen before that this is not something that will end well.”

“How long is too long?” Jack demanded concerned.

“Well, I was in one place for about a week with no ill-effects that I noticed,” Rip noted.

“That’s good to know,” Jack mused, “So, we need to infiltrate Section 5 so Rip can touch the shard to send him on his way. Is that right?”

Rip and Henry nodded in unison.

Jack shook his head, “Is there a plan for how we do this?”

“That is easy, Sheriff,” Gideon spoke up from inside the cell she’d been wandering around studying, “I can access the systems within Global Dynamics. I can therefore get access to the restricted section easily.”

Rip smiled at her, before turning back to Jack.

“I’m meant to be the law in Eureka,” he reminded them, “I’m not supposed to break into places. Or allow it to happen.”

“Technically the shard belongs to Rip,” Henry noted, “So it isn’t so much a break in, more a retrieval.”

“That is quite a technicality,” Jack laughed, before he sighed, “The problem is that’s not a technicality the law will agree with if we’re caught.”

“We don’t expect you to take the risk, Jack,” Henry told him.

“And I don’t want you to either, Henry,” Rip interrupted, “With Gideon and if you let me borrow your car then I can access Global Dynamics myself. I already have a few possible ways in from our original visit.”

Jack glanced at Henry, “Is he kidding?”

“Captain Hunter is a master of getting in and out of places he shouldn’t be,” Gideon spoke up.

Jack groaned, “Fine. I have no knowledge of this.”

“No knowledge of what?”

The voice coming from the door made them all spin to where Jo stood looking at them suspiciously.

Rip watched the woman in the same uniform Jack wore, marking her as another part of the law enforcement in Eureka.

“Not important, Jo,” Jack told her.

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you finished a few hours ago?” she demanded as she headed to the second desk, spotting Gideon in the cell she asked, “Have you done the paperwork or were you waiting for me?”

“I am not under arrest, Deputy Lupo,” Gideon stated as she walked through the bars and out the cell making the other woman jump.

“Gideon,” Rip chided softly, “The door was open.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “Should I ask?”

“Jo Lupo,” Jack grinned, “This is Dr Rip Hunter and his AI companion, Gideon.”

“Okay,” Jo nodded understanding, she’d clearly been a part of this town for some time, “Nice to meet you, Dr Hunter, Gideon.”

Gideon smiled, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Deputy. Your record is very impressive.”

“Gideon,” Rip sighed, “Please stop looking into things you’re not supposed to. We’re guests here.”

Rolling her eyes, Gideon replied, “If I don’t look then I would not get to know about the interesting people who live here.”

Before Rip could retort the phone began to ring.

“I’ll get it,” Jo said, “Considering I’m the one who’s working.”

Gideon moved to Rip’s side and murmured softly, “People tracing you is no longer the problem, Captain.”

“It’s Alison,” Jo turned to them, “Looking for Henry.”

Surprise covered Henry’s face, “Me?” Taking the phone, he listened for a second before nodding, “We’re on our way, Alison.” Hanging up the phone, he sighed, “They tried to test the shard’s power. It’s not going well.”

Jack bounced up and grabbed his keys, “I’ll drive.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Jo called as they left, adding before they were out of door, “Or if I need to evacuate the town.”

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

“I thought you said you were just testing,” Alison yelled over the blaring alarms as she ran into the lab.

“I was,” Nathan replied, “It activated itself somehow.” He grimaced as he continued to try to shut down the energy source they’d found, “The energy is looping and feeding itself. I can’t stop it.”

Alison grimaced, “I’ve called Henry.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to help,” Nathan told her, staring as a small point of light began to form at the other side of the lab.

“What is that, Nathan?” Alison demanded fearfully.

“That,” came the clipped voice of Dr Hunter, “Is a time portal beginning to form.”

Alison and Nathan turned to see him enter with Henry and Jack along with Hunter’s AI Gideon.

“It’s a what?” Nathan demanded incredulously.

“A time portal,” Rip stated again, before adding, “Unfortunately as it’s not been controlled there is no way to tell where in time it will open to.”

Nathan frowned, “You’re talking about time travel.”

Rip nodded, “Precisely.”

“That’s impossible,” Nathan scoffed, “Time travel is science fiction. And what would an Artificial Intelligence specialist know about the physics of time travel?”

“A great deal more than you do,” Rip replied absently.

Nathan glared at the other man, “I doubt that. My specialist fields are astrophysics and quantum mechanics which I am one of the world’s leading authorities on.”

Rip turned to him and noted, “Yet this is still out of the realms of your knowledge.”

“The energy levels are growing,” Henry called from the controls stopping Nathan from retorting, “Would it stop if you touched it?”

“Gideon?” Rip asked.

Alison frowned confused as the AI shook her head, “Unfortunately that would not work, Captain. The portal has already begun to form, removing the shard would not stop this. We need to drain the energy.”

Rip sighed as he looked around thoughtfully.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jack demanded suddenly, “Since that’s what usually happens.”

Shrugging Rip replied, “The portal opens to before or after the earth exists and the entire world gets sucked into the vacuum of space.”

“You just know the way our luck runs there’s no point asking what the best scenario is,” Jack noted to Henry who nodded.

“Gideon,” Rip called as he checked the readings, “The electrical systems Dr Fargo upgraded. Would they be able to accept the charge?”

She tilted her head for a moment before replying, “It would but they would need to be modified properly in order to dissipate the energy safely.”

Rip nodded, “Henry?”

“We’re on our way,” Henry nodded,

Jack pulled out his keys, “I’m driving.”

“Nathan, come with us,” Henry ordered as he started out grabbing Jack’s arm, “Gideon, send me the details of how to do this to my PDA.”

“Yes, Dr Deacon,” Gideon replied as the two men ran out.

Rip swore under his breath as the small portal continued to grow.

“What can I do to help?” Alison asked.

“Keep an eye on the power output,” Rip told her, motioning her to the back console.

She nodded and turned her attention to the readouts.

“Gideon,” Rip turned frowning at the annoyed expression on her face, “What’s wrong?”

“The energy being released is beginning interfere with our connection, Captain,” Gideon told him, “I am losing the signal to you.”

Rip sighed, knowing to keep their connection she was diverting energy from other systems on the Waverider to their link, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Her hand came up to touch the air by his cheek, “Take care, Rip. I will be back as soon as I can.”

As she disappeared, Rip took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Rip,” Henry’s voice came suddenly, “We’re here.”

“It’s a good thing Jack is the law considering how fast he must have been going,” Rip noted, before asking, “Do you have the information you need?”

“We’re already working on it,” Henry told him, “We should be ready to start the transfer in three minutes.”

“Dr Hunter,” Alison called, “The energy is increasing exponentially.”

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, before calling, “Henry, we’re running out of time. The portal is going to be viable in the next fifty seconds if we don’t start the energy transfer.”

“We’re almost there,” Henry replied.

Frowning Rip caught Alison’s arm, “You need to leave this room now.”

“What?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Rip told her, “I need to be here to activate the transfer but there’s no reason for you to be in here as well.”

Concern flitted across her face before she nodded, “I’ll be listening in.”

“Lock the door,” Rip said, “It’ll give a little bit more protection for evacuating the building if this doesn’t work.”

She nodded again before leaving him alone. Rip knew he could touch the shard and leave here but Henry was his friend and Jack was becoming one as well. He wasn’t going to leave them to deal with this.

“Henry?” he called, “Tell me you’re ready.”

“Rip,” Jack replied instead, “We’re ready. Start the transfer.”

Hitting the button, Rip watched the energy levels and hoped this worked. He trusted that Henry knew what he was doing, considering the interface he’d created.

“Is it working?” Henry called.

Rip continued to watch the levels and finally, to his relief, it began to go down, “It’s working.”

Turning he watched the portal slowly get smaller before it disappeared into nothing. Checking the information Rip sighed in relief to see that it had closed completely. Opening the lab door, he found Alison standing there.

“It’s gone,” he told her.

Alison nodded, “That’s wonderful news. Now you can explain how you knew exactly what to do.”

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

Henry was relieved to find Rip sitting in Alison’s office with no security surrounding him.

“We disconnected all the equipment and locked the lab down,” Henry reported to Alison as they filed in, “Is everything okay here?”

Alison nodded with a blithe smile, “Dr Hunter and I were just discussing that.”

He winced slightly but seeing Rip was looking relaxed knew that it wasn’t too bad.

“What about the energy source?” Nathan demanded.

Alison glanced at Rip before she replied, “I have locked the lab down for the moment and Dr Hunter has confirmed that it is safe now but best to keep it secure.”

Nathan frowned but nodded in agreement, “I have some other projects that need to be checked on.”

With that said he left, and Henry sighed in relief.

“So,” Alison spoke up once Nathan was gone, “Time travel and alternate dimensions. You have some interesting friends, Henry.”

Not sure what to say, Henry shrugged.

“Rip,” she smiled at him, “I will give you access to the lab at noon tomorrow. That should give you time to make your goodbyes.”

Rip shook her hand, “Thank you, Dr Blake.” He glanced at the picture on her desk and added, “After today I suggest you go home yourself and be with your son,” sadness covered his face for a moment as he breathed, “It’s the best thing in the world to spend time with your child and should never miss any chance you have.”

Henry caught Jack’s eye, but the moment passed quickly, and Rip turned to him once more.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” he said, “But after that I need a drink.”

Henry said, “Sounds like an idea. Café Diem doubles as a good evening spot.”

Nodding Rip told them, “Well let’s go before Gideon returns and yells at me.”

#fic #ripfic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #eureka #henry deacon #jack carter #alison blake #nathan stark

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treescape · 3 years

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WIP Challenge

WIP Challenge 😁❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍❤😁🤩🤩 Rules: tell us the titles of all the WIPs you are currently working on right now and a little about them. Then tag five other writers.

Thank you so much to @outpastthemoat for the tag! <3 <3 <3

I wasn't kidding the other day when I said I have 36 files in my In Progress folder 😅 So I'm not going to post all of them. I'm leaving out quite a few shorter prompt fills I'm working on, a few I haven’t actually gotten past the daydreaming stage for yet, as well as a few that I really don't know how I'll move forward on.

Details below the cut, since it's long. Please note that some fics are E rated. Fics are divided by pairing (obikin, dinluke, quiobi, and other/gen)

Feel free to ask me about any of these by the way--I love talking about fic!

obikin/vaderwan

eastwest

Anakin was raised a Sith, Obi-Wan a Jedi. Vader is cursed to never be able to show his face until a Jedi comes to love him. After Vader kills his Master the Emperor, he puts out a demand: one of the Jedi must come to him or he will destroy the few who remain.

Obi-Wan, naturally, sacrifices himself.

This is basically a mix of East of the Sun and West of the Moon, Beauty and the Beast, Cupid and Psyche, and Hades and Persephone. I've posted a small snippet on tumblr here.

This will be a longer, chaptered work, which I won't start posting until I've finished game plan.

exhaustion habits

For a prompt for the lines “Come on, now, Master, I couldn’t possibly carry you with more dignity” and “Obi-Wan had known exhaustion with a brutal intimacy for years” from my phone notes prompts. Order 66 doesn’t happen, and the Republic wins the war. Now that the war is over, however, Obi-Wan is so used to running on nothing but fumes that he finds it difficult to sleep if he's anything less than flat out exhausted. Since he still has to run himself ragged before he can rest, he thus keeps falling asleep in the most random places. Anakin is determined to do something about it.

game plan (chapter 2)

The second chapter of my fic in which Anakin was raised a Sith, Obi-Wan a Jedi, and they keep meeting during the Clone Wars. This was meant to be a more lighthearted Vaderwan fic than I usually write and I'm really loving it so far. There will be five chapters total, and I have them all pretty well planned out--I just need to work my way through my writing anxiety and finish them! In this second chapter, Vader has captured Obi-Wan (again) and is taking him back to his ship--but their shuttle has a bit of a malfunction and they're stranded. I've posted two brief snippets on tumblr, here and here.

light of day

The companion piece to dreamfield; Vader finds Obi-Wan on Tatooine, as suggested by my friend Scruffy! I've posted a snippet of this on tumblr here.

in darkness and light

My soulmates AU in which Anakin is raised a Sith and Obi-Wan a Jedi (are you…seeing a pattern here??? 😂) I’ve posted two brief snippet of this on tumblr, here and here! This will be chaptered, and I won’t be starting to post it until after game plan is done.

to have and to hold (part 5)

This is the fifth part of to have and to hold, for a prompt in which Obi-Wan and Anakin first sleep together. My lips are sealed as to the rest.

to have and to hold (part 6)

For a prompt in which Obi-Wan makes a misstep—and Anakin unknowingly comforts him.

to have and to hold (part 7)

For a prompt wanting to know a bit more about Bail and the twins. Obi-Wan learns some information he wishes he didn’t know—because if he doesn’t know it, he can never accidentally share it.

untitled omega!Obi-Wan

This for a prompt that asked for more in the unexceptional timing world! It will be a prequel (or can also be completely standalone). Obi-Wan, after all, has to get pregnant somehow 👀 I've posted a small snippet on tumblr here.

untitled prompt

For a prompt for the line "I'm sorry but.. Who are you?" Obi-Wan and Anakin are undercover. Shenanigans ensue! 👀

dinluke

nightmares (working title)

Din and Luke have just recently gotten together, but Luke never wants to spend the full night with Din. Luke finally confesses to Din that he has nightmares that he’s afraid of disturbing Din with. This is a big of an angstier piece than I normally do for dinluke, delving a bit into the PTSD that both Din and Luke experience.

stars shine down (on us and our love) (chapter 3)

The third chapter of my dinluke romcom, in which Leia hires Luke a bounty hunter to help out at his Jedi academy. In chapter 3, we move back to Luke's point of view the morning after Din first arrives on Yavin IV. I’m quite late getting this one done--I’m sorry! 😣

teach me (to know you) (chapter 2)

I am still planning to write this 😅 It picks up pretty much immediately after chapter 1 and is, uhh, very spicy.

untitled political au

Luke and Din are both senators. Luke was raised in politics, Din didn't even run for office and was elected because so many people put his name as a write in because they love him so much. Din and Luke fall in love around long and grueling committee meetings.

quiobi

all roads lead

Qui-Gon’s gone missing and the Council believes him to be dead. Obi-Wan refuses to believe it—and is determined to find him. I’ve been working on this for almost a year now and am hoping to finish it in the next couple of months!

beyond the greystone walls

The second part of my QuiObi Witcher AU. In this ‘verse, Qui-Gon is a Witcher who refuses to actually kill monsters, and Obi-Wan is a Sorcerer. In this specific part, Qui-Gon learns that Obi-Wan is being held captive and goes to rescue him—only to learn he’s ruined Obi-Wan’s undercover mission. Whoops.

legends and stars (chapter 2)

The second chapter of my imperial au, which is a secret santa gift for chibiobiwan. Palpatine came to power about twenty years before he does in canon; Obi-Wan becomes an Imperial officer instead of a Jedi, but keeps hearing rumours about the rebel leader Qui-Gon Jinn. This will be 5 chapters and an epilogue, and my goal is to get it all wrapped up in the next couple of months. The second chapter picks up right where the last one left off, with Obi-Wan having just landed on Tython.

The Trials and Tribulations of Master Kenobi, Gentleman (chapter 2)

The second chapter of my QuiObi Regency AU! Which I am still working on! I swear! This fic will be four chapters, of which only one is posted. In the first chapter, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan met in the library of their gentleman’s club. Now, it’s time for Obi-Wan to go home to his family estate of Stewjon for the summer. When he arrives, it’s to learn that his family is in a tizzy about their new neighbour, Master Skywalker—whose best friend and advisor is currently staying with him. I wonder who that is.

untitled

This is for a university AU prompt! I adore university AUs! In this one, we have Professor Kenobi--and Qui-Gon, who has gone back to school many years after his first degree to complete a second. Professor Kenobi just wants to finish the conference paper he has to give in a few days. Why are all the books he needs signed out of the library, when he hasn’t even assigned these poets on his syllabus? Who is reading his damn poets? And can he, like...marry them?

other/gen

a beautiful day in the senate

A Clone Wars, Qui-Gon lives AU! This one is Qui-Gon & Ahsoka gen. Qui-Gon has business at the Senate--and why not take his great-grand padawan along with him so they can spend the day together? Alas, their quiet day out turns into a bit of a catastrophe when there’s disaster in the Senate. I’ve posted a brief snippet of this here.

snowblooms

My top secret Codywan fic 👀 It involves books. And slowly falling in love.

untitled

A post-Wild Space Bail & Obi-Wan gen fic which I am super excited about. It’s a 5 times fic—based on a line in the book where Bail thinks of Obi-Wan: “And best of all, I don’t have a single thing he wants. How often do I meet someone who wants nothing from me?” So it’s five times Obi-Wan actually did want something of Bail—but the thinks are things like, he wants Bail to have survived order 66 etc. I just love their friendship so much.

Tagging (with absolutely no pressure to do this!) @tessiete , @acatbyanothername93 , @antheiasilva , @darkisrising , @xeniaraven !!!

#wip challenge #obikin #quiobi #dinluke #my fic #trees writes

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luminashdawnwing · 3 years

Text

The Wages of Sin: Part II

“Fancy running into you here, magister,” Grigori said as Luminash approached the Venthyr’s hiding place among the shadowed crypts of the Ceremony Ward, “I suppose Nelyne told you where to find me?” He was idly twirling his sinvyr blade about, amber eyes gazing up at the Halls of Atonement itself, the grand cathedral and its shining ruby windows utterly dominating the landscape. It was, the magister supposed, a reminder for not only the prideful souls broken here but also the inquisitors themselves what their reason for being here was.

Luminash stepped up to the Venthyr, eyeing him levelly despite the other’s greater height, and nodded in confirmation, “She did. And I bring some measure of good news from Sinfall: resources - I cannot say flood, for they do not - but they have begun to trickle in. Souls, liberated from the Maw, anima scavenged from the four realms.” He was filled with, at once, a great sadness and a great relief, the image of Ardien’s soul crumbling away seared into his mind.

Grigori bared his teeth in a predatory smile, the jagged points lining his lips reminding Luminash of, perhaps, a crocolisk, “Oh, how lovely! And we are making progress here, or some at the least.” The Venthyr slipped his blade back through the loop on his belt, “The Halls of Atonement are lost to the true Venthyr, but there are ways to remedy that. Come, my mortal friend, walk with me.” Grigori beckoned with the crook of a claw-tipped finger.

The magister followed, and as they walked, the magister could not help but look up at the Halls themselves, as Grigori himself had been doing, though he had doubtless seen it all before. The edifice cast a long shadow over the ward, bathing the grounds below in a diffuse ruby tone, those windows being the source of much of the light there. Around them were only silent sinstones and hollow, broken crypts, Venthyr lurking about wrapped in their ritual garb. Looking up, beyond the Cathedral, all Luminash could see was the open bloody red sky.

Stopping short, Grigori ducked into the shadow of a crypt, dragging Luminash along with him by the arm, the glare on his face making his demand for silence clear. A small group of Venthyr were walking by, closer than the others who minded their own business among the sinstones. These were hauling one of the bound souls Grigori had mentioned in their wake. Though featureless - Ardien in his final moments sprung into Luminash’s mind - what was once its head and shoulders hung low, arms dragging, the weight of its sinstone clearly crushing what hope it possibly could have.

Once the inquisitors had passed by, Grigori spoke, voice a hissing whisper, “A demonstration, mortal, of the inquisitors’ new depravity. The Avowed have continued to diligently tend to their charges ever since the Master installed Lord Chamberlain as a false Harvester of Pride. Most of the inquisitors have not. That soul? One of many.” A grimace contorted his face, the words spat from his lips, “Maw take the Master! It is an abomination!”

“What do they hope to gain from it?” Luminash asked.

Grigori spat, “Anima. Power, the same as the Lord Chamberlain, the same as the Master. If any of them think they stay true to Revendreth’s purpose, they are sorely mistaken. I expected better of the inquisitors.”

The magister continued to speak in a whisper even as the pair ducked back out of the shadows and continued, Grigori in the lead, “Anima, you say? Desperate times may have driven them to it, but if they are yet unaware that the drought is their Master’s doing, they could simply be allies in waiting.”

Grigori’s silent, venomous glare spoke volumes more than any words he could have uttered. Luminash withered, and offered a half-apologetic nod in reply. Something was truly eating at the Venthyr, Luminash thought, more than just the Master’s betrayal, more than he was letting on.

“Nelyne may have filled you in on my presence here seeking Avowed support, but I will give you a full report on our situation here.

“The Avowed subvert the Master’s will, oh yes, but they do so subtly. If they rose up openly, how much for the better it would be! A few souls repenting here, an inquisitor or two picked off here and there.” Grigori scoffed, a clawed hand balling into a fist, “The inquisitors have betrayed everything, and yet they live! We must gain the allegiance of the Avowed and purge these Halls.

“Now, though, why we are here right here, right now,” the Venthyr continued, shepherding Luminash up a flight of stone steps that had clearly, like much of Revendreth in the drought, seen better days, “The crypts behind us were used to contain souls in need of, ah…” He trailed off, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, the remembrance of better days, “Reflection. Now? They are prisons for dissenters, or the souls within simply lie forgotten, of no use to the Master for their anima, and with little hope of redemption under our care.”

“And we are here to free them?” Luminash asked, glancing back over his shoulder as the pair ascended.

Grigori shook his head, a dangerous cast creeping into his words, “Oh no. Nothing so unglamorous. We are here to hunt, mortal. One of the grand inquisitors is himself responsible for many of our allies’ imprisonments. We are here to make an example.”

Luminash pursed his lips and followed as his companion strode with long, purposeful steps upon reaching the top of the steps, “Is this what the Prince would want, or the other Avowed? They seem to me to be more interested-”

“They do not always know what is best. I know this inquisitor. He has allowed himself to slip back into the pride that brought him to Revendreth at the first, and I will rectify it myself if others will not.”

“Are you certain that this inquisitor is an enemy? Could he not be one of those opposing Denathrius, and his actions simply mistaken? Lord Bloodwatch did not discriminate in his blackmail, after all.”

“I have been watching him. I had hoped, sincerely, that you were right, and yet… The proof is in his actions.”

The magister remained silent with a furrowed brow, yet watchful, while Grigori spoke. He was an outsider here. Perhaps it was not his place at all to interfere in the affairs of these beings ageless beyond his knowledge. On the other hand…

The terrace onto which Luminash and his companion had stepped was graced with more Venthyr, most huddled in small groups and speaking in hushed tones not audible to the magister from so far away. Many, too, were hooded, as if trying to hide in plain sight. Others, on the very edge, wove crimson strands of anima around their charges, sinstones weighing down their shoulders as they had the poor soul Luminash had seen earlier. Elsewhere in the courtyard, another handful stood around a reliquary, souls bound to it wrung of their sins, which manifested as inky, eerie, amorphous beasts that, with the blow of a ritual dagger, dispersed. Two sides of the Halls, two factions, both seemingly doing their best to pretend the other did not exist.

“Look at them,” Grigori sneered, eyeing the inquisitors overlooking the Endmire, “Betrayers of their own kind, of all we stand for. They will need to be dealt with in due time. In fact…” A dry chuckle, reminding Luminash much of his own, “That is enough of a reason for your presence.” He quickly added, “Not now, though. When we meet our target, I will ask that you cover our retreat.”

Luminash furrowed his brows, but finally nodded, “Very well. I have seen such things in the Maw, and have no wish to see it take root here, either. I will help you.”

The sky of Revendreth opened up before them, no longer blotted out by the Halls as they passed the courtyards - and its near-palpable tensions - and set to climb down a flight of steps on its other side. Beyond, overlooking the bleak marshes below, was a lone Venthyr, surrounded in a wreath of anima, swirling and pulsing as if alive, his back to the steps. In that distance, webbed devourers fluttered about the blackened trees.

“It has always been his custom,” Grigori breathed, his voice low - and with, Luminash thought for a moment, a hint of reverence, “For a long, long time, he has come here after rituals of atonement to reflect. Now, he comes after examining his handiwork at the crypts.”

Luminash lowered his voice to a mere whisper as well, “You have been watching him this whole time, haven’t you? Nelyne said you were here to secure the aid of the Avowed, but what have you done to gain their trust other than indulge-”

“This obsession, I know.” Grigori sighed, a hint of resignation in his words, “You tread on very thin ice, my mortal friend, yet you are not incorrect. The Venthyr you see is Grand Inquisitor Ovanis, and he is the example to be made. There are few grand inquisitors, and the loss of one would be...galvanizing for our mutual friends.”

“I am not sure this is the wisest course of action, Grigori. Just who is this Ovanis to you?” Luminash’s stomach was beginning to sink as realization set in. The intensity of focus, the rapid concealment of a certain sinstone. A personal connection.

“It is…none of your concern. And I do not mean this rudely, but simply that there are some things mortals need not try to understand.”

The magister felt eyes on him, staring up from the bottom of the steps. The grand inquisitor had turned, amber eyes boring into his would-be assassins, smug in his lack of shock at what was to come.

“You may be surprised, Grigori. The inquistor, his name - his old name, from before…”

The Venthyr’s jaw tensed, fingers growing rigid as his body tightened, “Do not utter it before it is time. I was afraid of this. It is not something mortals ought to know.” With this statement - spoken less as an admonition and more as a fact, something he knew by heart, simply the way things were - Grigori swept down the steps, his cloak billowing behind him, “When they come - and they will - do not let them pass!”

“Grigori!” Luminash hissed, “Wait!” The magister cursed, watching helplessly as his companion darted away.

As the Venthyr’s boots struck stone, the clack of his soles echoing off the masonry, he pulled a shard of stone from within the folds of his cloak, much of the text lost but for what he began to read at a shout. His words were clear all the same, and echoed further than his footfalls, his indignation giving the words wings.

Luminash felt a cold terror in his stomach as his suspicions were confirmed. He had known the moment his companion had revealed the stone.

“Lanestrian Dawnwing!”

Even from his distant vantage point, the magister saw the grand inquisitor’s eyes go wide and shake his head ever so slightly. The anima field surrounding him convulsed at the utterance of his true name.

“He advanced knowledge; power was his true reward!”

The surging stream of sanguine power wreathing Ovanis looked as if he rapidly was losing control, a torrent undirected.

“He wore an honorable face, yet buried innumerable daggers in uncountable backs!”

The inquisitor tore his cloak free, throwing it aside as he scrambled for the dagger on his hip, a look of desperation, like a cornered animal, plastered on his features.

“Dedicated to his family, he brought it to utter ruin!” Grigori shouted, spitting these words with particular vitriol, “And so he does again!”

Leaping down the last few steps, Grigori tore his sword from the loop on his belt and threw himself at Ovanis, the inquisitor’s anima field dispersing in a burst of energy. Dagger met sword in the same moment that their two gazes met, one filled with righteous fury, the other with barely-contained shock.

“You betrayed us all, and you will pay the price!”

At last, the grand inquisitor spoke, his voice deep and haughty, so very much like Grigori’s, Luminash noticed as he began to rush down the steps himself.

“I have betrayed no one, least of all you and your ilk, skittering about in Sinfall’s depths! I serve Revendreth’s great purpose!” He broke his dagger free of the notches on Grigori’s sword and pivoted away, a burst of scarlet anima surging from his other hand, washing over his assailant.

Forced back by the counterattack, Grigori snarled, a feral sound so unlike the veneer of elegance he normally wore, “You only serve the Master’s whims! He has fed all of our hard-won anima to the Maw, to the Banished One!”

A feral cry from Ovanis this time as he lunged back into the fray, “The Master is Revendreth!”

Caught off guard once more while still recovering, Grigori danced to the side, jagged blade swiping across his opponent’s side, a thin trail of anima following in its wake. A rapid pivot from the inquisitor, a stunned look on his face, and he tossed his dagger to the ground with a clatter of metal on stone. Black-red anima swirled from his wound, and around his hands.

“You will regret your insolence, child. Before we are through, you will beg for the peace of the crypt!”

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

Luminash, now, heard the sound of more boots on cobblestone. Grigori had been right, he thought grimly as he whirled to face those approaching. Of course a Grand Inquisitor would hardly have been taken easily. Coming from the terrace, down the steps, were those inquisitors from before, dragging hopelessly bound souls behind by chains.

The first in line hurled a bolt of crimson anima at the magister. He noticed it was accompanied by a stifled cry from the imprisoned soul as its power became its captor’s. A hand held before him, and the attack crashed into an arcane barrier. Luminash shouted as he used his free hand to weave his own magic, grasping the second of the three inquisitors in an arcane binding. The third sidestepped and continued her advance, even as her companion dropped the chain binding his captive soul.

Freed of the inquisitor’s grip, the soul struggled with its sinstone for a moment, thrashing wildly like a wolf in a trap until its form began to shred, torn apart by its own torment, a burst and flash of anima all that remained. Luminash allowed himself a stab of pity even as he threw his hand to the side, hurling the bound Venthyr over the edge of the steps and hurtling into the Endmire far, far below.

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

While Luminash held off reinforcements, Ovanis unleashed such a wave of anima that it knocked his one-time assailant off his feet, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.

Groaning, and attempting to push himself to his feet again, he was struck again, the swirling red of unleashed anima blocking out his vision. He had felt the anger behind Ovanis’ first assault, but this was pure rage; he screamed, a sound enough to curdle the ichor in a Maldraxxi’s veins.

“After all I have done for you - all we have done for Revendreth - you spit upon me, spit upon the Master’s good graces, the very redemption of our charges!”

“You have stopped redeeming them, Lanestrian; you only bleed them dry!” Grigori choked out through teeth gritted in pain.

“We do them a service! Without us, they would amount to nothing. At least now, their anima can serve a purpose!”

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

The Venthyr’s shouting below scarcely registered as Luminash fought off his attackers. The remaining two were both upon him now, sinvyr daggers surging with anima, the souls in their dubious care little more than husks as they were drained to power the inquisitor’s attacks. The magister found himself stepping backwards down the stairs under their blows, each glancing off his barrier. It was beginning, however, to take a toll on him. He could not hold forever.

When next his attackers lunged, their blades found no purchase. Luminash had vanished, only to reappear behind them, the energies of his barrier redirected into a focused blast of pure magic. It struck one of the two, sending her crashing down the steps and landing with a sickening crunch, crumpled on the cobblestone.

The remaining Venthyr whirled about, snarling as he gripped his soul’s chains and surged with anima, his charge shrieking as it was wrung dry, the chains and sinstone falling empty to the steps.

“Maw take you, mortal!” he shouted, the anima crashing from his hands and surging like a lake unleashed from a broken dam up the steps to wash away all in its path.

Another blink, and another assault finding its target missing. “Not today, I am afraid,” Luminash replied, now behind his assailant once again. He unleashed his own explosion of arcane power, the force of which slammed the Venthyr face forward into the steps. He did not rise again.

Finally able to take a breath, Luminash released the power surging through him, eyes like twin stars dimming. The way was still clear. If more came, though, he did not know if he could keep it that way.

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

With the crumpling thud of the inquisitor falling to the stone at the foot of the steps, Ovanis turned, his attention shaken, the force with which he bore down upon Grigori giving way for the merest moment. That shred of time was all Grigori needed to regain his breath. Scrabbling on the cobblestone, he hauled himself to his feet and gripping his blade, drove it at the inquisitor’s back. Neither did his blow reach its mark, nor did the inquisitor feel its sting.

As the blade was about to strike home, sheathed in the flesh of its enemy, Ovanis was swallowed up in a cloud of red mist, only to appear further across the terrace. The anima wreath, the barrier, that had been disrupted before began to reappear.

“Your attempt has failed, Senaril.”

Grigori stumbled as he had been turning to face the inquisitor again, and his sword fell from his grip.

“How arrogant you have become, how ungrateful, to come here like this, to call me by the name I cast aside.” The grand inquisitor’s feet rose off the ground as he spoke, “And to have brought a mortal too? You will not have the satisfaction, not this day!”

With that, the anima winding around the Venthyr shuddered, obscuring him from sight. Grigori stood alone, joined in short order by Luminash, the magister breathless.

Choking out the words, Grigori rasped, “Do not let him… Do not let him escape, go… After him! With your bauble, go!”

Ignoring his companion’s pleas, Luminash grabbed the taller man underneath his arms and helped to haul him up, “Absolutely not. Not in this state, mine and yours.” Once he was standing - wobbly yet, but standing - the magister continued, “I must ask, though. He used your true name too. You snapped at me when I lingered on his sinstone. There is much more to this than you let on, Grigori.”

Grigori pulled away, walked unsteadily to the steps, a grimace on his face as he skirted around the broken inquisitor, and let himself sink to the ground, “Very well,” he added wearily, “I have been, I admit, poor at keeping my secret, haven’t I? He was my sire.”

Luminash raised a brow, taking a seat next to Grigori, “Your sire? I have heard the Master spoken of with that title, but what does it mean for others?”

“He created me. Presided over my redemption, from my crimes when I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head and grimacing, as if tasting something particularly vile, “When I was Senaril. How I hate to hear that name. He named me Grigori, he made me Venthyr. For him to name me now… It only shows that he has not left Lanestrian behind as he claims. Lies upon lies.”

Pursing his lips, the magister nodded, “I see. I can understand your drive to see him overthrown, then. Knowing that your father has let himself become something monstrous, I suppose, that is a worthy pursuit.”

Grigori sighed heavily, exhaustion weighing his shoulders down, “I am glad of that, for what it is worth. But now you, my friend, indulge me with the truth.”

Luminash felt a lump forming in his throat. He only nodded, afraid to speak.

“You lingered on his sinstone. Why?” The question was simple, matter-of-fact, yet felt entirely pointed at the magister’s heart.

“You know me as ‘magister,’ my title. Or simply ‘mortal,’ like so many others call my kind here. For good reason I might add, curiosity that we must be.” He took a deep breath, “My name is Luminash Dawnwing. Lanestrian - your sire, the Grand Inquisitor himself - was my kin.”

Grigori’s eyes bulged. He looked as if he might choke, then he cursed, harsh words spat out under his breath, “Dawnwing.”

“I understand if you are...reluctant to trust me after this, but it is the truth. I will not offer a defense of myself, or my line - I can only account for my own life, after all.”

“Oh no, no, no, no…” Grigori did not seem to have heard him, “Luminash. You misunderstand. He was my sire in this life...and in my last.” The Venthyr stood, raking a clawed hand back through his hair, and began to pace, energy returning, “All will be made known in due time, but know this: my name, loath as I am to speak of it, was Senaril Dawnwing, and you and I? We too are kin.”

#wow #shadowlands #story #wages of sin

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colderthancoldest · 4 years

Photo

((Thanks anon! I picked 13 and Dhawan!Master of course lol))

The Master's Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn't so much as spare it a glance.

The Master's steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their least nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O's number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn't sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn't lessen his own.

Seven minutes, which quickly turned into six by the time he made his way to the bar. Why the Doctor would ever be here- let alone with her 'companions'- was beyond him. He could only assume that her and her little fake family of humans were investigating yet another 'alien disturbance' before everything went wrong.

He glanced inside the window. He could see the Doctor grinning away, telling some kind of story to a curious crowd. Judging from her smiling face, there was still time yet to fix things.

Graham was there with the Doctor, but there was no sign of Yaz or Ryan inside.

The Master found a frustrated growl caught in his throat.

Five minutes now.

"We just want to ask you some questions-" the Master spun his head around to pinpoint the location of Yaz's voice. She was behind the building, out of his line of sight, but close by, "you clearly know something you're not telling us."

"Yeah," a voice added whom the Master could only assume was Ryan, "an' we can't help until you tell us what you're scared of."

The Master raced over the overgrown lot and skidded across the loose gravel as his eyes finally landed on the pair of humans. They were questioning what looked like a young lady- but the Master wasn't so naive. In under five minutes both humans would be dead if the Master didn't do something.

The Master reached out his arm and aimed the device at the lady. Her lips curled into an evil smile, but the Master's ray hit her before she could transform into whatever disgusting monster was undoubtedly underneath.

Yaz and Ryan's mouths fell open in shock as the lady suddenly shrank into a figurine and subsequently tumbled down the ravine. They scrambled back from the ledge and turned their heads to find the Master responsible.

The Master glanced over Yaz and Ryan for a moment, looked down at the tiny item tumbling away- half-transformed into a disgusting monster of black goo- and then glared at the Doctor's companions once more.

The Master shouted with such intensity that the back windows of the nearby buildings shook in their frames.

"You two. Come with me. Now." he demanded.

"Wait! Why did you-"

"Now! Or you'll die right on schedule."

The Master's forceful voice twisted his words into a threat, even though his actions suggested nothing of the sort. He was saving them, but he didn't have the time nor patience to explain why. He wasn't even sure he could explain why even if he wanted to.

The Master returned his device to his pocket, his hands shaking terribly as he fought himself for control.

"Come on," he said flatly. Then he turned, and led the pair into the pathetic excuse of a building.

The Master easily kicked through the lock of the emergency exit and let himself in, via the staff room. He heard the humans asking him questions as they followed, but blatantly ignored them.

The Master made his way through the small room, through the kitchen, and zapped some random soul playing darts as he entered the main room before the drunken fool accidentally hit someone.

Some garbage song from the 1980′s drifted through the dimly lit room as the Master approached the Doctor and grabbed her hand.

"Lovely to meet you all," the Master gave the various humans around the table a false smile, "Dearest, I think we'll be leaving," he hissed into the Doctor's ear.

He tightened his grip on her hand, making her sharply aware that this was not optional.

He only had four minutes after all. Four minutes to fix everything.

The Doctor looked up at him, her eyes not fully realizing it was him for a moment.

"You!" He heard Graham gasp.

The Master shook his head sharply, his anger swelling up into every tense muscle in his body. He hated these humans. He didn't understand why the Doctor would care so much for such fragile play things.

And yet here he was. The LEAST they could do was cooperate.

"Theta," the Master hissed through his teeth so quietly no one else could make out the word, "time to run."

The Doctor looked him over, her expression cold for a long moment, before she seemed to recognize the Master's desperation for her to comply. Finally, finally, she stood up. Her fingers clamped down on the Master's hand equally as tight, as if it was some sort of competition.

"Right, let's go fam," the Doctor happily said with a false sense of security.

Immediately, the Master led her out of the rundown bar, hand in hand. He broke into a run once they were out the doors and didn't stop. Just over three minutes. Three minutes to keep everyone alive. That was the deal.

Save them, just this once.

He didn't slow down for a single moment. Not even to see if the others were catching up. He just ran, down the street, around corners, through the park, and he didn't stop until the seconds ticked down and his full seven minutes were up.

When he finally stopped, he found himself- and the others of course- on a bridge overlooking a stream.

Only then, did he let go of the Doctor's hand.

The Master leaned over the edge, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

There was just one last thing to do.

"Give me your phone!" He demanded, pulling out his own phone from his pocket.

"What? Why?" The Doctor protested, "And why are we-"

"Phone... or the paradox breaks," the Master demanded.

The Doctor glared at him, but she did give up her phone.

The Master impatiently snatched it from her hand.

He opened it up and dialed his own number.

"Everyone cover your ears!" He huffed.

He checked the time. Just seconds to go.

There was some groaning from the humans, but the Doctor told them something about the dangers of paradoxes and so they complied.

The Master held his thumb over the dial icon, looking back to the Doctor once more.

"You too, dear," he said softer than he had ever said anything to this version of the Doctor.

Reluctantly, the Doctor put her hands over her ears.

The Master dialed his own number in one hand, and pulled up the recording of the Doctor's message on his own phone in the other.

He hit play on the Doctor's message, the message that had brought him here, and held the phones up to each other.

It was still a paradox, but at least this would lessen the damage. The Master winced to hear the message, the pain of it refusing to dull even after a second listen.

"Master- Koschei-" the Doctor's voice broke over the recording, "I- I messed up. My fam... my-" she sniffed, audibly crying, "Master, I messed up. They're... they're dead. They only stepped out for a minute I didn't-I didn't even realize-"

The Master grimaced as she paused to catch her breath, the sobs clearly evident from her quivering words and the way her words occasionally caught in her throat.

"I can't- I can't fix it. The timelines- the- I really messed up. Just... please." Another pause.

"Master, please. I need you to help me. They can't die like this, not them. I can't- I can't do this without them. I can't lose them like this- just- please, just this once- I-I can't cross my timeline-" the Doctor in the recording sniffled, "I can't cross my timeline, you understand why... but you can. You're not part of the events so... please. I know you said you would never save them but I- I can't let them die like this. I can't let it be my fault so please, please save them. Just this once."

Another pause. The Master pictured the Doctor, probably all curled up on the Tardis floor as she finally said, "What am I even doing. You're probably dead."

More sobbing. It hurt the Master like knives being dug into his chest. And to think. The Doctor crying over him.

Two more words,

"I'm alone."

And then the message ends.

The Master took a deep breath and hung up both phones.

He stared out over the water, composed himself, and then turned back to the gang.

The Master relinquished the Doctor's phone to her and gave a nod, a sign that he was done and it was all over.

She seemed to have complied with his demand for once, because the Doctor's eyes betrayed no sign she had heard the message that she would no longer have to send him.

Still, her eyes looked over the Master's heavy hearts with something distant as she lowered her hands, took the phone, and shoved it into her coat pocket once more.

"So what was that about?" she asked somberly.

The Master turned to face her and sat himself up on the ledge of the small bridge. He still wasn't a big fan of the running, but at least it was over now. He hoped he would never have to intervene like this again.

"You don't want to know, but it was for your own good," the Master snapped.

"He did sorta save us I think," Ryan interjected.

The humans had all lowered their hands when the Doctor had done so.

"You're sure?" The Doctor looked to him, slightly confused because the Master saving anyone didn't sound right at all to her ears.

"I hate to admit it, but yeah," Yaz vouched.

"No. You would never," the Doctor stepped closer to the Master, eyeing him skeptically, "Would you? No, not unless it helped you in some way. What are you planning?"

The Master sighed, exhausted by all this.

Helped him in some way? Plans? The only thing doing this /helped/ was making sure the Doctor didn't fling herself into the sun after thinking everyone she cared out was dead because of her.

Was keeping his best enemy in tip top condition for their next showdown not a selfish reason enough?

"You prefer them alive, don't you? Let's just leave it at that," he refused to elaborate.

"And yeah, I'm still alive too," he then added through his teeth, "I can't believe there was ever any doubt."

The Doctor shortened the distance between them until her face was close enough for their breaths to mingle in the cool, evening air.

"In that case, I'm not sure if I want to kiss you, or shove you off this bridge."

The Master's full lips pulled into an overwhelming smile.

"Can I pick?" he hummed warmly.

The Doctor considered this for a moment, her face so close they were practically touching.

"No," the Doctor smiled.

Her lips pressed against his, soft but firm against the Master's full lips. The scruff of his beard tickled her face just enough to make her smile.

More than anything, the Master was relieved. He much preferred the Doctor's grin to her mournful begging.

Then all at once, he lost his balance and fell back over the edge.

He hit the water with a loud splash and fell through the deep pocket of water until his back finally settled against the river bed. He wondered if the Doctor would jump in after him if he waited there long enough. He should have pulled her in along with him, but the Master hadn't realized he was going to be kissed and shoved in. Not that he was surprised.

He watched the blurry patches of color through the water as the Doctor and her gang make their way to the shore, clearly put off by the fact that the Master hadn't resurfaced yet.

He waited until the Doctor leaned over the edge to look for him before leaping up. In one swift motion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the water as well.

The Master chuckled as he dragged himself up onto shore, the weight of his soaked clothes pulling him down but his sweet revenge well worth the price.

The Doctor soon resurfaced as well with a surprised gasp and climbed up onto the land, now thoroughly soaked as well.

The Doctor began to laugh at having fallen prey to such a childish prank. A full, cheerful laugh, the likes of which had yet to grace this Master's ears.

It made the Master smile just a little.

"Is that it?" The Doctor finally asked, ringing the water out of the edge of her coat.

The Master nodded. His work here was done and he hoped he would never have to play 'damage control' again.

"It'd better be. Keep a better eye on your pets," the Master grumbled as he made his way back to the path.

It was time for him to go.

"We're not-" Graham began to defend the group against the Master's use of the word 'pets'.

The Master simply glared over each of them.

"You're welcome," he said gravely.

He could hear the humans question the Doctor about all this, but the Master couldn't care less.

He hated everything about this. He hated being weak like this.

And yet, he was thankful that he could return to his scheming knowing the Doctor would be alive and well for their next inevitable confrontation. That simple fact was worth everything to him.

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Bad Game of Chicken - Xehanort x Fem!Reader Pt 3

Ah, so much to write, so little time. I finally finished this series and I’m gonna bury myself headfirst into my zine projects because deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. Other than that, I had some fun being melodramatic with this series so tadaaaaaa!

~~~~~

Part 3: Hawk-Dove

An evolutionary theory concerning the distribution of resources. Hawks display aggression and will escalate to fighting. Doves display aggression, will run if there is escalation, but will share if there is not.

~~~~~

It’s been two weeks since we started this terrible game and no one is showing any signs of backing down—in fact, it’s gotten worse. We share, we help each other, we give compliments, and—ever since that bastard cheated in our sparring match—we place frequent kisses against cheeks and fingers and foreheads. There’s been threats of the real deal but, even if this is a bad game of chicken, neither of us have built up the gall for that.

Our friends—gods our friends are smart and dumb at the same time. Their initial awkwardness at our sudden flip has dulled and they’ve just come to accept this nonsense. It kind of makes me want to slap them. Master Odin, though, has so far let the subject slide but I notice his close supervision of our work together. This is becoming far too normal far too quickly and I just need to break this boy.

Chatter between myself and the girls floats along as we amble down the hall. We discuss tonight’s study session as, I may be studiously capable, but I don’t understand the content nearly as well as Urd. Turns out, I’m going to get a surprise instead of help with my homework.

Rounding a corner, I come to a halt. A finger beneath the chin lifts my gaze as he tries to get me to flinch away from his mouth. “Hey you.”

“Hey,” I reply calmly.

“Get a room,” Urd teases.

Shaking my head, I pull back. A finger pokes his chest. “What do you want?”

“You busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for that test on Monday,” I say.

Those silver eyes—that I hate to admit I find enthralling—shine. “You can do that tomorrow.”

“Um, no. I already made plans with Vor and Urd.” I gesture to my companions.

“Oh come on. You’ll like it.” The closeness forced on me by an arm pulling me in is despised; however, my body doesn’t flinch away—I must be getting good at this game. “What do you say, ladies: can I steal her from you tonight?”

Vor can be an unintentional little monster sometimes. “Sure. We were thinkin’ about studying tomorrow instead anyway.” She does not acknowledge my scowl.

“Perfect.” Fingers pinch at my cheek. “We are gonna have fun tonight.”

Forcing a smile, I tug away. “Oh yeah? Where we goin’?”

Oh, I could slap him when he taps a finger to his smug lips. “You’ll see.”

So my plans change without my consent and I’m left waiting in my room for an annoyance who is an hour later than he said he’d be. Jokes on him though; I’ve been using the time to perfect my look for tonight. I’m going to get him to break—or so the plan goes.

The knock pulls me from the mirror. Pulling the door open, I ensure eyelashes bat at the boy on the other side. “I was beginning to wonder if you just wanted to ruin my grades.”

“Oh don’t be mad, doll,” he purrs. “Preparations took a little longer than I expected but it’s worth the wait. Nice dress by the way.”

My eyes flicker over his outfit: the normal athletic shirt we all wear is replaced with a sleeveless button-up and he had a vest rather than his haori. It’s slightly more dressy than usual but still very much Xehanort. “I’ll give you a C for effort.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “If we’re grading on effort, you’d probably get an A plus. Is someone excited for our date?”

Heat rushes into my ears in annoyance. “It wasn’t really effort; more like my date is an hour late so I had to entertain myself.”

“So if I leave and come back later you might do something about that attitude?”

“If you leave, don’t come back,” I reply flatly.

“That’s a no then. Well come on; you and your attitude will have fun.”

The door closes behind me. “You sound so sure for not knowing much about me.”

“Okay, maybe this won’t live up to your princess standards but most people would enjoy it.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me what it is?”

“You’ll see.”

“That’s a no then.”

His big plans turn out to be dinner on the water. A cozy little rowboat takes us out for a relaxing meal in candlelight, but at the end, when the lights go out, there’s a gorgeous scene waiting in the darkness. Stars twinkle above on a canvas of violet and indigo, mirrored by the calm water. It’s a moment more peaceful and awe inspiring than I ever would’ve expected in the presence of Xehanort. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that scene of floating on an endless sea of stars.

It’s dark now; we’ve taken care of clean up, returned the boat, and are now on our way back to the citadel. There aren’t many people wandering the dark but those we do happen across mind their own business as much as we do—with one exception.

Passing by an ally, someone bumps into me. His stumbling is a bit difficult to steady. “Woah. Are you okay?”

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he growls, tearing his arm away from me.

Xehanort immediately snaps back, “You ran into her, asshole.”

My signal for him to keep calm goes ignored.

“What did you—” The moment I see that arm reaching across me for my date, I lash out in deflection.

“Okay, hold on,” I say, stepping between the two as this stranger attempts to intimidate me. I’ve got plenty of practice ignoring instigations such as this, but I have the prime suspect for those instigations to worry about this time—and this guy looks like he won’t let us go so easily. “Let’s just—”

My arm is taken in his grasp. “No. You—what are you gonna do about it?”

Cautiously, I push Xe farther behind me. “You need to let go and walk away,” I warn calmly.

“Or what?!” he snarls, not thrilled with my request. All kinds of red flags wave and I’m already starting to come to terms with the fact he’s just going to keep escalating.

“This is your last warning: let go of me.” When there’s no response, I try to pull away. Given his larger size, there’s not a single budge on his end. “I said LET GO!”

Smashing the heel of my palm into his wrist effectively removes his grasp; however, it comes with an automatic response that I should’ve expected. Pain slams into my face, throwing me down. I’ve definitely taken harder hits before, but a sucker punch still hurts.

There’s a sudden yell followed by a scuffle. I’m sure Xehanort is destroying him but I’m just trying to get the throbbing to dull.

“YOU BETTER RUN!” my boyfriend roars savagely. A moment later, he’s kneeling beside me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’ve hit me harder.”

“You should’ve destroyed that guy.”

“Guess that’s what I get for trying to avoid confrontation with a civilian.”

He tugs at my hand. “Let me see.”

“Stop,” I complain, recoiling.

“Will you just let me see,” he snaps, this time managing to pull my hand away.

It’s already swollen shut. From my other eye, I notice the fury manifesting in his body; muscles tense, a snarl begins to pull at his lips, and the focus in his eyes ebbs somewhat. Worried he’ll take off after the thug, I take his hand in hopes of keeping him with me.

“I could really use an ice pack,” I murmur. The ground is gone and my arms instinctively clasp around his neck. “Hey! I can walk! He gave me a black eye, not a broken leg!”

“Shut up.”

The words are so sharp and dark that they certainly do their job: keeping me quiet while he carries me back to the citadel.

For a few years we’ve been at each other’s throat; I’ve seen this guy annoyed, angry, and outraged, but this is a whole new level of wrath I’ve never encountered. I’m partially thankful it’s not directed at me but, then again, I am the cause.

When the door to the student dorms is forcefully kicked, I flinch. It’s just my luck that our friends are lounging around in the commons area.

“Well aren’t you two…” Bragi interrupts himself. “What happened?”

“Someone go get an ice pack,” Xehanort demands. Quite a bit of care is used in setting me on the sofa. Our friends glance at each other but none immediately move. This is a mistake as Xehanort then barks, “Now!”

Hermod and Vor hurry away.

“What happened?” Eraqus asks, repeating Bragi’s question.

“We ran in to some guy who thought he was hot stuff,” I grumble. “I didn’t want to fight but he decided my face was a great punching bag when I resisted.” My boyfriend is not taking it all that well.

Fluffcoat’s words don’t help. “Damn. He got you good.”

Xehanort butts in. “Alright, hold still.” A gentle finger pushes my eyelid up and I resist jerking back. “There’s no bleeding. Does it hurt? Can you see?”

I pull away, dabbing at the reactive tears. “It’s blurry, but just the outside hurts.”

His expression has my stomach doing flips—Xehanort’s still wearing that anger, but there’s what looks like concern, something never directed at me before. “Anything else? Do your ears ring? Can you breathe alright?”

“There’s a little bit of a headache but just the eye.”

Finally dropping his intensity, he lets out a heavy breath. The seat beside me is taken by the boy and our friends finally return.

“Is everything okay?” Hermod asks, handing over the ice pack.

Turning over the compress, Xehanort mutters, “Just a black eye.” The pack is passed to me next. “Twenty minutes.”

Normally, I would’ve snapped at the boy—I took the same first aid course from our master—but I have no desire to and I don’t know if it’s the headache or his unusual reaction causing that. A nice chill soothes the surface ache and it’s my turn to let out a sigh.

All the tension comes right back when an arm around my waist pulls me up against the young man. I should’ve pulled away, that would’ve been in character, but I’m tired and I hurt and this is just so comfortable. So, while Xehanort leans against the arm of the sofa with a grumpy face propped against his fist, I lean against his side, slowly drifting away, remembering the stary dream he showed me today.

#ymx #xehanort x reader #young xehanort x reader #xehanort #young xehanort #young master xehanort #fem!reader

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