#she may look like a twig with a bad posture but i still love her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samstree · 3 years

Note

hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞

37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!

Unfinished Story

Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence

Part of the Empath AU

Read on AO3

Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.

He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”

The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.

Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.

“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”

The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.

Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—

“Hey, let me help.”

A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.

Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.

Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.

“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”

The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.

“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”

The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.

To Jaskier and Ciri.

His empath bard and his child surprise.

Two halves of his world.

Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.

Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.

Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.

“Geralt?”

Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.

A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.

On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.

“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.

“I dreamed—”

“You are not there anymore.”

“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.

“It wasn’t real.”

“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.

“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.

“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”

He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”

“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.

“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”

She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.

“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.

With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”

“Don’t touch you, I know.”

Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”

Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.

But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.

It really isn’t his strong suit.

“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”

Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"

“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”

Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.

“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”

“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”

“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.

“No, but someone else might think differently.”

The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…

“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.

“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”

Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”

“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”

“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.

“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”

The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.

“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.

With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”

Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.

He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”

They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.

“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”

“You are not. Not anymore.”

“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”

“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.

“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”

The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.

The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.

“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.

“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.

And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.

Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @theultimatenerdd @percy-jackson-is-sexy-

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #empath!jaskier #empath au #witcher fic #soft geralt #soft jaskier #hurt/comfort #hurt jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri has a nightmare #cw: past violence

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sooty-writing · 4 years

Text

Sweet Tea, Sweet Husband (Seteth x Byleth)

Mornings at the monastery were rarely quiet. What would be peaceful hours in a small village were some of the more rambunctious times of the day. Some students of the Officers Academy were naturally early risers, often going to train or to get an early meal. Yells from the training grounds would rouse even the heaviest of sleepers on a bad day. On the third floor, the Archbishop and her husband were the two lucky souls in the monastery to be far enough from the chaos to not hear it.

Seteth groaned, burying himself under the covers of his shared bed. It was Sunday morning, the day he chose to sleep in. Ever since his wife took the position of Archbishop, much of their time together was strictly work related. While there were the smiles in passing and moments of affection during private meetings in one of their offices, truly personal matters had been reduced to the few minutes they had before heading to bed. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, resettling to his position at Byleth’s side. One arm rested on the curve of her waist while the other acted as a pillow for her. Despite his head still being in a haze, he still smiled at her sleeping form.

A light snore came from Byleth instead of her normally silent breath. Seteth hummed, almost chuckling from the small sound. Living the majority of her life as a mercenary had conditioned her to be at the ready with the snap of a twig. Only when she was truly in a deep sleep did she snore. Her year as a professor helped her relax her into being able to attain such a state in the first place. A small part of him hoped that with them now married, he helped in a way as well.

From behind the curtains, thin streams of sunlight tried shining on the pair. Seteth squinted as one hit his eyes, encouraging him to snuggle closer into Byleth’s shoulder. He let out a grumble at the few students that did cause a ruckus on the floor below, noting to reprimand them later if he could. At the moment, though, that didn’t matter. Sleep almost caught him again before his wife turned to her back, letting out one more snore, slightly louder than before.

As much as he enjoyed the sound, he knew at this rate, it’d only get worse. In the meantime, though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to prepare a cup of tea. With his mind set, Seteth carefully uncovered himself from the comfort of their bed. A rug from a Great Wolf Byleth had killed not too long ago saved the man from early morning chills. The woman was a terrifying force, but here he was, picking out her favorite morning tea before she awoke.

Inside of a small cabinet was their stash of Four Spice and Sweet Apple Blend teas, with different tea sets for each season of the year. The beginning of the Great Tree Moon marked the start of Spring as well, bringing in the menagerie of colors in the gardens and fields. Taking out the corresponding tea set, Seteth began heating up a pot of water over a small burner. All the while, Byleth’s snoring had calmed, coming down to slow breaths. Her arms were strewn about the mattress, taking over her husband’s side. One arm was casted over his pillow, dragging it out of order. Blankets twisted to fit her form with each toss and turn, most of it piling on top of her. Her mint hair covered the right side of her face and part of the other eye.

Seteth chuckled at the state she put herself in. One wouldn’t expect the woman to be so chaotic while sleeping, taking over a bed fit for a king. Once again, she demonstrates how different she was to his past expectations. Each day he lived with her, he learned one more thing about her to add to that list. She wasn’t the stoic mercenary many perceived her to be so long ago;at least, not anymore. How much of it was her own growth or the merging of souls with the Goddess, he wasn’t sure. Now, it didn’t matter, not when she was peacefully sleeping, and alive.

The saint was broken away from his musing at the sound of rapidly popping of bubbles. Blowing out the flame below, he poured the water into the cups, allowing them to steep in the meantime. The water settled, gradually turning into different earthly tones in each cup. Satisfied, Seteth put the finishing touches to the table. With the small vase of freshly picked flowers and plate of scones from the snack basket, everything was set.

On the bed, Byleth patted the spot her husband usually slept on. Rather than feeling the muscular body of him, her hand slightly bounced off of the pillow she was previously hugging. Noticing she was finally roused from her sleep, Seteth smiled, walking over to her side. She responded to his kiss on her head with a groan, pulling the covers over her head.

He chuckled, peeling back the blankets.“Byleth, the later you take to wake, the colder the tea will be.”

“One more minute, will you allow me that?” she groaned.

“One minute for you is twenty for the rest for us. I regret to inform you, no, I will not.”

Reluctantly, his wife pushed back her thick pile of blankets, shivering from the early morning air. It doesn’t seem the world has transitioned into the new season as quickly as she wanted it to. Taking one of the lighter blankets from the top, she wrapped herself as she dragged her feet towards the table. The scent of sweet apples warmed her chest, a comforting wave softly spreading throughout her body.

Seteth pulled her chair out for her, pecking the crown of her head once again before sitting himself. Morning light streamed into their room, brighter than earlier, but not blindingly so. The Archbishop let out a content sigh after taking her first sip, relaxing into the chair as the tea cleared the lingering drowsiness. On the other side, Seteth offered her a couple scones, holding a small plate out to her. She gave him a grateful hum, placing it down next to her tea.

“It’s quite peaceful today. Perhaps you would like to join Flayn in her afternoon fishing?” Seteth asked her, sipping his tea.

“If she’s willing to not sit out there until dinner. As much as I love her, at the rate she was at last week, the pond will be out of fish by the end of the year. And that’s being generous,” she held back a laugh, hiding her smile behind her cup.

“Oh, it surely isn’t to that degree! She’s simply enthusiastic in her activities.”

“Seteth, my dear, she’s able to out do me on some days,” Byleth took a bite of her snone, crossing her ankles.

The Advisor rolled his shoulders back, readjusting his posture from a slight slump,“well, it’s to be expected when she has you as an instructor.”

Byleth chortled, covering her mouth with her hand. Seteth let out a wheeze, a smile spreading wide. Looking at her in the morning normally warmed to his heart, but the soft joy she shared in small moments brought on a deeper feeling. In the time he had gotten to know the former mercenary, the same feeling bubbled up. At first, he was distant towards her, but still kept a watchful eye on her. His sister trusting this woman with such a position as professor when she likely only had a basic education concerned him greatly. Why was she chosen, out of the other residents in Garreg Mach, let alone all of Fodlan? She was known for her brutality in battle, if the rumors were true. The Ashen Demon showed no emotion no matter the circumstance. Along with that, besides combat, what substantial information could she bring?

Her growth as a person, as well as her students showcased some of his concerns, but proved the opposite was true for others. Despite not knowing too much in the typical subjects she took to them quickly. Often she was seen checking out books multiple times a week from the library. Her seminars were informative, and she made sure to spend as much individualized time with her peers and students as possible. On her days off, she would bond with people over meals or tea (such as they’re doing now), or tend to the plants in the garden. Any fish she caught went to the stray dogs and cats around the monastery grounds. She may not have known her past too well, but in retrospect, it wasn’t her fault. Her father raised her to not know of his own past, and made dates unimportant unless related to work. The monastery was the first place she could call “home” since she was a small child.

“Seteth? Are you listening?”

“Huh? Oh, my apologies. I let my thoughts wander for a moment. Could you repeat what you said?” Seteth’s vision focused on Byleth’s face after a few blinks. Her face wrinkled with worry for a moment before softening.

The Archbishop shook her head, setting their empty plates into a pile in the middle, “it’s nothing important. Just my own random ideas, we can talk about it later.”

“Are you sure, my dear?” he asked, collecting the dirty dishes and walking them over the washing bin, “you’re aware I enjoy listening to whatever you have to say.”

“I am perfectly aware, I just think that Flayn would like to be included in. You know, family plans,” Byleth finished off the last of the tea before passing the pot to Seteth.

“‘Family plans’? As in a vacation?” he paused his scrubbing, looking back over his shoulder to his wife. Over by the bed, she fixed the piled up blankets into their proper spread.

Looking at him with a raised brow, she said, “yeah? Something like that. I just thought we could all use a break. Our last one was in the Great Tree Moon. Take a weekend off to look around town. It’s been a while since we did that.”

“That… would be wonderful. Though, we would need to prepare for it. Meetings with His Highness and his advisors begin this week, leaving us with less time for other parts of work,” his eyebrows scrunched together, “there is also the discussion about-”

“Seteth, you’re rambling again.”

“Ah- my apologies. As you were saying, yes, Flayn should be included in this conversation. Shall we meet over lunch this afternoon?” he mused, drying his hands.

“Sounds like a date. But not really. It’d be weird to have Flayn with us for a date. How about it’s just us for dinner, then?” Byleth wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist as he approached her, earning a smile in return.

“Yes,” Seteth gently kissed her forehead, resting his hands on her hips, “I like that plan.”

“Perfect. Saves me the trouble from dragging you from your work.” she laughed while lightly slapping his arm a few times.

“That would not be necessary,” he cleared his throat, cheeks tinting pink, “but I do appreciate you looking out for my well being all the same.”

His wife smiled, leaning back to get a better look at him, “I’m just doing my job. Now, help me find my headpiece, would you? I lost it last night.”

“How did- nevermind, let me assist you,” Seteth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Letting go of her, he made sure to push in the chairs.

“Thank you dear, you’re too sweet.” She chuckled, readjusting her wrinkled night clothes. One of these days, she should get something to keep them straight.

“It is my duty as a loving husband. Know that I am always ready to help you however you need me, ” he reaffirmed, his back turned to her while searching for his robes. While not looking, he felt the gentle touch of his wife running up and down his back.

“I know,” Byleth smiled, leaving a kiss on the cheek, ”and that’s why I love you.”

Walking away without receiving affection in return, she began checking under the various pieces of furniture littered around the room. Seteth huffed, letting a content smile grace his lips. Through it all, Byleth stood by his side without hesitation. Even before he started trusting her after his daughter’s kidnapping, she trusted he wasn’t the enemy. It extended to after the five years she was gone, not once did she question his judgement or feelings without reason. She reigned him in from the chaos of war and the worry of losing family members. All he wished was to repay her kindness in any way possible- and he will keep to that promise, no matter what. For he loved her, more than she could imagine.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #feth #fe3h #seteth #byleth #setethxbyleth #setleth

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beanie-on-a-string · 4 years

Text

to those people and places I can never go to

So I wanted to get back into the swing of writing and all, and ended up writing this thing about Kairi and Lea immediately after the events of Kingdom Hearts 3. I absolutely loved their friendship and wished they had shown more of it in the game. So, here’s this thing no one asked for...

The past few days on Destiny Islands had been perfect. Sounds of laughter and chatter resounded from the beach. After everyone gathered for the celebration, they figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay on the islands for a little bit. It was just the right amount of hot so that it wouldn’t be stifling, and the ocean was just the right temperature to wade in at any time of the day.

Kairi let the waves lap at her feet as she watched Lea – sorry, Axel - all but drag Isa into the water, the latter halfheartedly protesting as the former flicked water droplets at Isa and teased him, telling him not to ‘die in my arms a second time’. Roxas and Xion were not too far off, giggling as they floated on their backs, each one trying to outlast the other. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, already knowing who it was.

“Riku,” she said, smiling softly at one of her oldest friends.

He smiled a similar smile in return, hiking up his pants a little as he stepped beside her, letting the ocean run over his feet like she was. The sunset framed his head like a halo, coloring his silver hair shades of pink and orange.

“Beautiful day, huh?” she said, moving a little closer to Riku and nudging his arm. Barely swaying at the contact, he hummed in agreement. There was a sentence left hanging in the air between them that was left unsaid.

it would be better if Sora were here

Kairi leaned a little against the taller boy, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, watching Mickey and Minnie exchanging soft smiles as they talked on the dock, watching Namine drawing them from inconspicuous glances over her sketchbook, watching Axel complaining about his now drenched hair as Isa held back laughter, watching Xion wade over to Roxas to show him a pretty seashell she had found.

A loud quack of irritation startled them both. They turned around to see Donald being held back by Goofy as he squawked about how Ventus ruined his sand statue yet again. The accused stood by the crime scene, flying disc in hand, cheeks pink as Aqua and Terra stifled giggles behind him.

“Oh,” Riku said after a moment, posture a little straighter as if he remembered something. “Ventus and I were playing around with Axel’s discs earlier. Want to join? It’s fun.”

“That’s sweet, Riku, but perhaps tomorrow.” She gave a small apologetic smile.

“Alright, then,” he said, then added, “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A little more silence, filled with more questions and answers left unsaid. “Well, I’m going to go back to them, alright?” He raised his eyebrows in an ‘is this okay?’ motion. Kairi nodded, lips quirking up in another smile. He squeezed her shoulder lightly, and then he was gone.

Most everyone had headed back by now, having either gone back to their respective houses or whoever’s house they were staying at for the time being. Kairi stayed behind, the wet sand between her toes feeling more like hardening cement. She didn’t move from her spot by the waves for a while, letting the ocean pull the sand from under her feet over and over. She stepped away when the sun was barely peeking out over the ocean, the sky slowly deepening from its dark orange to something of a dark lavender. She didn’t know where her feet took her from there, exactly, but she wound up at the large, crooked paopu tree she spent so much of her time looking out at their small world on. She stared at it for a moment, then reached out and pushed herself onto the tree, swinging her legs over the thick trunk and sitting down. She watched the sunset for a while, right hand sitting expectantly on the rough surface, like it wanted a hand to hold. His hand to hold.

His name hadn’t left her mind since the Keyblade Graveyard. It was always on her tongue; to the point where she would catch herself almost saying his name instead of what she really intended to say. Often times after that, she’d forget what it was, anyway, and would dismiss herself with a little ‘nothing’ or ‘I forgot’.

She gave a sad, halfhearted smile to the empty space next to her. She thought she had seen him here, with her, a few days ago. She felt the weight of his hand on hers. Maybe he was there. She’d like to believe he was. She’d like to believe he’d appear again. Maybe it was all some sick dream, and he’d show up behind her like nothing ever happened. She squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to wake up, if she could.

She opened them. Same lavender sky, same waves, same salty air, same lack of a certain someone. Her chest hurt where Xehanort had run her through only a few days earlier. She bowed her head and shut her eyes again, a futile effort to hold back the tears falling down her face and making dark spots on her dress.

“Sora,” she choked out between her sobs. She hid her face in her hands, although there was no one to see her cry.

It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour, but however long it was, she jumped and a quiet shocked noise escaped her mouth when she heard a twig snap from behind her. She hastily wiped her tears (trying to make it seem like she was rubbing her nose) and turned around.

“Axel.” She looked up at the fiery-haired figure standing behind her. “You’re still here.”

“Oh no, I’d left a while ago,” he said, his ever-present nonchalant air apparent in his speech. “I just came back out since I never saw you head in. I think Riku may have noticed too, but I don’t know if he said anything.” He took a few steps towards the tree, but stopped as a weak ray of sunset shone on her face.

“Oh… kid, were you crying?” He rested both hands on the trunk and leaned forward, concern written plainly on his face.

“It’s nothing. Just… something in my eyes.” Kairi knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second.

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before,” Axel replied simply, but no menace in his voice. Kairi mentally cringed. I knew he wouldn’t buy it. She furrowed her brows and looked down.

“Can I…” Axel gestured to the empty space beside her.

no not there

“Sure,” she replied, scooting over a bit so he could sit down. Her heart gave a barely felt twinge as he shifted on the bark.

Neither of them said anything as the sun sunk below the horizon. Eventually, she felt a light tap on her shoulder, and was met with a blue ice cream bar and the strong smell of sea salt and vanilla filling her nose.

“That’d better not have been in your pocket this time,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips as she took the ice cream. Her eyes were still damp, yes, but she was already feeling better with Axel around.

“Picky,” he teased as he produced an ice cream for himself. “Everyone forgets that I wrap them after I make ‘em. And besides, I was holding them in my hand. Not my pocket.”

Kairi bit off the corner of her bar. Axel followed suit, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Ah.” Kairi lifted a finger, eyebrows raised. Axel squinted in a mock glare, then swallowed the ice cream, rolling his eyes at her a little. She giggled, thinking back to how she’d always have to remind Sora not to speak with his mouth full.

Sor-

“You know, for a while, I used to not like these,” Axel said, gesturing to the ice cream with his free hand. “When I was a Nobody, anyway. I would eat them all the time – you know, with Isa – when I was younger. But when I was a Nobody, I don’t think I ate any more of this until Roxas came along. I don’t know why, but he wanted ice cream. So I went out to get some, and, remembering how much I used to eat it, I chose the sea-salt. When I tasted it for the first time – well, not really the first time, but you get my idea – it tasted awful. I didn’t know why I used to be so fond of it.” He cringed, as if he were reliving the memory. “I got used to it, though, eventually. I think I ended up getting the recipe myself, somehow.”

Kairi hummed in response, looking at Axel, red hair looking aflame under the fading rays of the sun.

“I didn’t tell you before, but… I like your outfit,” Kairi said, lightly touching the sleeve of Axel’s shirt.

He looked down at it as if he hadn’t realized he was even wearing it, then chuckled in a decidedly Axel-esque way, nudging her lightly. “Thanks, kid. You don’t look so bad yourself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kairi replied, nudging him back. The sky was in that odd transition phase between purple and blue, and right now, it was the color of Sora’s eyes. Kairi smiled at the sky, but it was pained and just brought yet another round of tears to her eyes. She ducked her head quickly, hoping Axel didn’t see. Obviously, he did.

“I know you miss him,” Axel said quietly, tentatively placing a hand on her back. Kairi nodded, too choked up to say anything back. “I’m not happy about it either,” he continued. “Didn’t expect it to happen, you know? Kid had a knack for surviving.”

Kairi nodded again, although she didn’t quite know what she was nodding at. She spoke, voice so quiet she could have been talking to herself. “Sora and I shared a paopu fruit here.” Axel raised his eyebrows in question. “Legends say that when two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They’ll remain a part of each others’ lives, no matter what.” She swiped at her eyes. “When you miss someone, they’re everywhere. They’re in everything you see. It’s unbearable.”

“Yeah,” Axel said. Kairi looked up at him a little, wiping a tear from her chin. He looked vulnerable, just like he did that day when they were training in their little corner of time. “It was the same with Roxas and Xion. It felt like a part of me was missing. A large part. We had spent so much time together, and then… they weren’t. They just weren’t there anymore. While we were training, there were times when I looked at you… and Xion was all I could see.” Kairi could see Axel’s cheeks glistening, although it didn’t seem like he had realized it himself. “It hurt. It hurt so bad.”

“Axel,” Kairi said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He jolted, like he had forgotten she was there. His grip on his half-eaten ice cream stick - which had gotten so tight the wood seemed like it was going to choke – loosened, and he touched his cheek, staring at the tears that came away with his hand.

“Guess we both need those markings under our eyes, huh?” He joked, the delivery halfhearted. Kairi laughed, the sound coming out wet and a little pained. He inched a bit closer to her, his hand moving from the middle of her back to wrapping around her in a one-armed hug.

“You must be cold,” he said simply after a quiet sniff.

“I’m not anymore,” she said, curling up on the branch and leaning into his arm. They stayed that way as the sky turned from its odd blue to indigo, from indigo to navy, from navy to a star-littered sea of black.

By now, Kairi felt herself drifting off. She didn’t know if Axel had already done that – he was lying back on where the tree bent, his shape curving with the trunk. Kairi was still curled up by him, head resting on his legs. The moonlight was illuminating his face and hair in strange ways, making him look almost alien, but not unpleasant.

Her eyes fluttered. She was going to fall asleep soon enough. “Axel?” She murmured, voice impossibly quiet. No reply. “Axel?” She tried again. “Lea?”

After a moment, a barely audible reply of “Kairi?” came drifting back.

Kairi smiled sadly at the sound, then curled into herself further, finally closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

xxx

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kairi #kingdom hearts kairi #kingdom hearts axel #kingdom hearts lea #kingdom hearts fic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #my writing #kh axel #kh lea #kh kairi

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Hey Clyde! Love your reviews on RWBY. My question is about Ozpin. If he survived fighting Cinder, would the events of volume 4-6 still happen? I believe the only reason team RWBYJNR treated Ozpin that way was because he was with Oscar who basically looked like a kid to them. However, if he was still in his adult body, would they have been more respectful?

Hi, anon! Thank you! I’m actually super glad you asked this. I’ve touched on how Oscar’s age and looks have impacted how others perceive Ozpin a bit in other asks, but haven’t had the chance to compose a substantial meta about it. I will attempt to fix that here!

FYI, it’ll get decently image heavy from here on out.

First, as a general response to the question of whether the events of Volumes 4-6 would have changed if Ozpin had survived: absolutely. If only because Ozpin as a figurehead would have still been around to lead both his inner circle and function as a symbol of strength for the rest of the world. Unless he was completely incapacitated from the fight or something (like in a coma), the expectation is that Ozpin would have begun rebuilding his school. Glynda wouldn’t have been left alone to try and deal with a frozen Wyvern attracting grimm. Ironwood wouldn’t have been left to figure out where to go from here. Qrow wouldn’t have been sent on a mission to return Ozpin’s cane. The whole world (including Atlas) may have been less likely to panic with Ozpin there to provide perspective and support. Lionheart presumably would have been less inclined to betray him, at least so soon and so overtly. An Ozpin who will reincarnate at some unknown point is a future Lionheart problem, and therefore far less intimidating. An Ozpin who still lives and commands his inner circle is way more of a threat and Lionheart would be more likely to get caught. Remember that even Salem was surprised by how quickly Ozpin reincarnated and dove back into the game—all the baddies were banking on more time. So yes, a ton would have changed. The group’s focus is now more along the lines of, “So is Ozpin going to fix things and can we go back to school?” and less, “Ozpin is dead as a door nail and no one is able to fix things for us. Might as well go hunt Cinder ourselves.”

But onto the meat of the ask. Is the group treating Ozpin like they are at least partly because he’s in the body of a kid? That’s also a resounding ‘yes.’ Human beings, including the humans and the faunus that we write in fiction, are incredibly judgmental (for better and for worse) based on how someone else looks. If you’re able to see then you tend to prioritize that information over other aspects of a person. We create markers that we then learn and assume mean something when, much of the time, they don’t. Or, to put it another way, we create stereotypes. We can think about this in terms of gender presentation: a masculine-looking person giving orders is seen as the “boss” whereas a feminine-looking person giving orders is seen as a “bitch.” We can complicate that with race: we’re more likely to view a white woman giving orders as “assertive” when compared to a black man giving orders. That’s “aggressive.” From giving a girl long blonde hair when you want to cue people into the fact that she’s (supposedly) dumb, to making a man skinny when you want him to seem vulnerable, our media is chock-full of those markers, subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) encouraging us to read characters in particular ways. There’s a reason that Yang, the go-getter, is blonde whereas Blake, the bookworm, has black hair. There’s a reason that Cardin wasn’t designed as a twig and Jaune is a couple inches shorter than him. There’s even a reason why the sap the group collects is red rather than, say, yellow, orange, blue—literally any other color. Only red sap makes it look like Cardin is covered in blood when he attacks Jaune, thus increasing how much we read him as a threat. The characters’ designs matter.

What does all that have to do with Ozpin? Well, at the start of the series his markers all point to authority and wisdom. He’s a white man, for one. He dresses in a formal suit. There are nods towards his age (a cane, white hair) that tell us, despite his baby face, that he’s someone who has been around a while and thus has a great deal of experience to draw on. He’s also, significantly, tall. Take a look at how his talks with Ruby read visually.

Ruby is incredibly small compared to Ozpin. He towers above her and she’s constantly in a position of looking up to him, mirroring the ways in which she figuratively looks up to him for advice. Her mannerisms are also younger and don’t carry much confidence. Crossing her arms and sulking. Wringing her hands while asking if she’s made a mistake. The way Ruby moves contrasts Ozpin’s own very still, very composed mannerisms. Body language and facial expression is one of the primary ways that we communicate and the slightest change can carry a world of meaning. For example, compare these two shots of Yang from Volume 1 and Volume 6:

On the surface they appear quite similar, but provided there isn’t something impacting how we read these moments (such as some people with autism), we learn that these poses mean two very different things. Two hands on your waist is a relaxed pose; one hand on your waist is an arrogant pose. At least when combined with an angry expression. One arm, the placement of her eyebrows, and suddenly Yang’s attitude towards Ozpin has radically changed. We went from casual respect to defiance, and most viewers wouldn’t need to know anything else about RWBY’s story to read that here. Her body language alone tells the story.

Ozpin’s body language with Ruby then cues the viewer into the fact that he (supposedly) has the answers here, simply by virtue of him exuding a confidence that Ruby doesn’t possess yet. Who do you look to in a bad situation? The person screaming and running around in panic? Or the person who calmly announces that they can help, getting everyone else to calm down by keeping calm themselves? This sort of characterization is partly why the fandom grew suspicious of Ozpin early on. It’s not simply that he (on the surface) is modeled after the shady authority figure trope, but that we’ve learned from real life experience that a person’s ability to keep calm and speak eloquently doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re right. Sounding authoritative is a skill and it’s why the likes of cult leaders and dictators are so dangerous. If you just sound and look like you know what you’re doing, people have a tendency to believe you. And if you’re inclined towards critical thinking, you might be wary of the person whose demeanor is a little too polished.

Even when Ozpin is being playful he maintains a certain level of dignity. His clothes, his physical looks, and the controlled movement of the mug—he’s not jumping around like Nora might—all remind us that Ozpin is the headmaster here and thus, though he’s making silly jokes about popcorn right now, he deserves a certain amount of respect. Even his posture speaks volumes, one arm still tucked behind his back and shoulders ramrod straight. It’s a posture that speaks of training and discipline. There’s a reason that the general (Ironwood) is always animated as standing tall with hands neatly folded and the presumably less dependable drunk (Qrow) is animated with a constantly hunched posture. How Ozpin stands is a quick and easy way to tell the viewer, “This guy is in charge. He’s powerful. He’s wise. You can rely on him.”

All of this changes dramatically once Ozpin is thrown into Oscar’s body. Moving chronologically, it’s significant that the group is not introduced to this new Ozpin as a dignified individual.

This is what we get later. Note the crossed legs, still good posture, even the ‘adult’ way he holds a mug. In contrast, someone younger and more childish in terms of their personality, like Ruby, tends to hold a drink with two hands and chucks it all back in a manner that would never fly at a dinner party.

Rather than a dignified Ozpin knocking at the door, the group first encounters Oscar, someone who, like Volume 1 Ruby, can be incredibly timid and lacks in self-confidence. This isn’t the body language of a leader arriving to provide you with all the answers.

Oscar’s slouched posture, downward gaze, wringing hands, and fearful expression all paint him as the weak one here. Made worse by the fact that he asks to see Ruby and ignites (an entirely understandable) suspicion in the group. Their first interaction is characterized by perceiving him as both a potential threat, but also one they can easily handle. We don’t like that he’s asking about Ruby, but we can take him in a fight no problem.

And yes, this first impression makes a difference. Knowing something about someone on an intellectual level usually doesn’t trump the emotional response we have to the physical markers we’re faced with. As a non-RWBY example, let’s say you were introduced to these two characters.

Ignoring for a moment that we’re comparing a villain and a hero, let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re told—and are provided proof—that each of these characters are morally sound, powerful adults and you should afford them with the respect they deserve. Being told that simply can’t outweigh what we see. Who are you more likely to respect? The woman who looks like a literal child named Baby Doll in a cutesy outfit, or the very old looking man in badass robes, literally named the Ancient One? All the, “But I am an adult” in the world isn’t going to convince people to read, and therefore respond to, Baby Doll in the same way they would the Ancient One.

That’s the situation Ozpin is in now. He’s told the group that he’s Ozpin, he’s managed to prove it, but there’s always going to be a part of Ruby and the gang that doesn’t quite believe it. Not in Jaune’s literal sense of, ‘He could be lying about who he is,’ but just in a more instinctual, ‘He says he’s our headmaster, but all I see is a fourteen year old kid.’ What you see makes it really easy to ignore what you know, particularly when those two things contrast. Those markers Oscar brings to this new version of Ozpin are simply too influential and yes, that opens the door for the group to treat him with far less respect than they would in his adult form. We see it right from the start when, despite having been told that this is also Ozpin, the group coos over him in an overbearing, disrespectful manner.

This continues even after Ozpin has taken control and is doing everything he can (those dignity markers) to regain some level of trust and respect. Even while seated and attempting to command the room as Headmaster Ozpin, Nora nevertheless undermines that with “Cute little boy Ozpin!” She has chosen to emphasize his looks over his status and notably no one listens when he says, “Please don’t call me that.”

Ozpin has, in this moment, literally been labeled as a child. A “boy.” Though we can’t be sure about what age all his hosts were when Ozpin arrived, based on Jinn’s vision it doesn’t look as if reincarnating into teenagers is common. This may even be the first time.

Any of these past reincarnations would have been able to command more authority, simply because they’re adult men not dressed in dirty farm clothes. If this Ozpin had shown up in Haven,

we would have gotten a very different volume. Age matters. How we perceive age matters. We saw this right in RWBY’s second episode wherein Weiss calls Ruby out on attending Beacon.

It’s Ruby’s looks and Ruby’s looks alone that encourage Weiss to come to the conclusion, ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ The same thing has now happened to Ozpin. You look younger than us and are inhabiting a body that physically couldn’t beat us in a fight? You shouldn’t be here. You definitely shouldn’t be giving us orders.

The group had control of Ozpin’s safe house. They were poised to interrogate him for showing up at it unannounced. Now they emphasize Oscar’s age and characteristics over his, which is ironically the only time that they emphasize Oscar’s individuality over Ozpin’s. In short, they’ve created an environment where a part of them truly believes that they’re older and more knowledgeable simply because of how Ozpin now looks, even though technically they know this isn’t true. It’s a new dynamic and with that comes the confidence to treat him like the fourteen year old stranger he “is”. I don’t believe for a moment that Yang would have ignored Ozpin’s direct questions, shot out irrational accusations, and then demanded a promise from him if he still looked the way he did at Beacon. Especially as someone who came to Haven later and therefore missed the initial proof, Yang simply doesn’t read Ozpin as Ozpin. We’ve seen how other characters interact with him from a student-teacher dynamic and it’s far more respectful.

As this shot demonstrates, there’s also that issue of Ozpin’s size. Where as a headmaster Ozpin commanded authority by being taller than almost everyone else around him, Ozpin as Oscar immediately loses authority by being the smallest in the room. As I mentioned with Jaune and Cardin, size is an easy way to emphasize vulnerability. We quite literally couldn’t have gotten this scene if Ozpin was still 6'6" and looking twice Jaune’s age.

In this scene Jaune honestly thinks this might be Ozpin. He’s accusing him of lying again, of claiming to leave when really he’s spying on them, or just pretending to be this kid called ‘Oscar,’ whatever. The point is that Jaune is working under the assumption that he’s interacting with his headmaster, yet that knowledge obviously doesn’t give him pause. Because Ozpin’s new look outweighs everything else Jaune knows about him. He’s angry and now suddenly Ozpin isn’t an intimidating huntsmen capable of defending himself, Ozpin is a teeny-tiny kid with no training. Jaune becomes Cardin through the realization of, “Oh. If I’m bigger and more powerful than this person, I can do whatever I want to them.”

Ozpin’s size is an ongoing reminder that, despite possessing his own skill as well as magic, he’s in a vulnerable position. He needs to stand on the furniture in order to recreate his students literally and figuratively looking up to him, but now it just reads as a joke.

This isn’t the first time RWBY has used size this way. Cordovin is an excellent example of how a small, non-dignified looking person is unable to maintain authority in the way someone with another appearance might. Her white hair just makes her look old rather than wise and her short stature is so extreme that it invites humor. It’s not just that Cordovin is a racist, or that her guards act like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Her appearance immediately gave the group another excuse for why they shouldn’t listen to her. Look at this tiny old woman trying to tell us what to do. Yeah right, lady. We could probably punt you into the sun so step aside.

This is a look that makes guards release prisoners in three seconds flat.

This is a look that encourages laughter and, by extension, a lack of respect.

The extreme camera angle in order to make Cordovin look ‘imposing.’ The fact that she looks like a literal child next to Weiss… none of it encourages the group, or the audience, to take her seriously. Rooster Teeth made a conscious decision when they decided to animate Volume 6′s “bad guy” as an old woman with sagging breasts and an extremely small stature.

The only time when someone that small is re-characterized as authoritative is when they’re standing up against unimaginable odds.

Ignoring that this scene in reality is Ruby refusing to take responsibility for the crimes she is currently committing, what Rooster Teen wants this shot to do is function as an example of extreme heroism. That’s accomplished by taking our second smallest character and situating her in front of a larger-than-life mech. Ruby’s refusal to back down in the face of something so much bigger than her is (again) supposed to be inspiring. She’s standing up to Cordovin’s “bullying” in a way Oscar was unable to do with his own mech: a bigger and more threatening Jaune.

(I really cannot express how awful Volume Six was wow).

All of which brings me to my final point. Namely that, by virtue of his age and size, Ozpin as Oscar will always look ridiculous when attempting to make use of his former markers. Using a cane?

Headmaster Ozpin’s age and height makes it look distinguished. Ozpin at Oscar’s age and height makes it look silly. What’s the fourteen year old doing with a cane nearly as tall as he is? (Acknowledging that this is an ableist assumption. Some fourteen year olds do need canes, but most viewers are going to question this in a way they never would with the white-haired adult). What’s the kid doing with such a fancy looking cane when he’s literally covered in dirt, bandages, rags, and badly mended clothes? That’s a silly contrast.

Headmaster Ozpin fighting? Totally badass. One of the shortest and yet most talked about fights in the show.

Ozpin as Oscar fighting? Still badass… if you’re willing to work for it a bit more. But really, the kid swinging a cane around just will never have the same feel as a grown man who looked like Ozpin did.

Ozpin himself is a dignified person, but anytime he adopts those mannerisms now he looks silly at best, arrogant at worst.

I think his look is largely why so many fans read the snow scene as him talking down to the group. He no more talked down to them here then he did when he conversed with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or the team while heading off to Mountain Glenn. The only difference is that the previous Ozpin commanded all that authority, so his warnings and criticisms held weight. This Ozpin not only doesn’t look the part of an authority figure, half his time is spent being Oscar, someone who defers to and scurries around the rest of the group. So when Ozpin tries to take charge here, everyone is far less willing to listen. People are inclined to read him as arrogant, patronizing, talking down to others, etc. because it looks like a small child giving orders to a more older, more powerful team. Even though it’s not.

It’s the combination of everything above that leads to moments like this. Where Ozpin is smaller, more vulnerable, looks too young, too naive, where the group towers over him for once and hurts him both physically and emotionally because now they can.

Tl;dr: Yeah. Oscar’s looks and Oscar’s personality changed things irrevocably. If Ozpin had still looked like Ozpin the group wouldn’t feel half as entitled to this behavior and gaining their respect—from ‘Please don’t address me like that’ to ‘Please understand why I kept secrets’—would be far, far easier.

#Anonymous #rwby #ozpin #mymetas

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kairi-chan · 5 years

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I bet no.7 of "Humans are the cutest animals" is actually true to those two 👀

Title: Let Me (Drink Your Fill AU)

Rating: T

Genre: romance / angst

Prompt: “bite me.” “You would want that.” || While many humans prefer to sleep alone, a large number of them sleep better when in close contact with another human who they trust and enjoy the company of.

Beta ready by: @ss-tyytyy thank you so much, love! ❤️

Word count: 3374 words

A/N: Here, they look physically 17, real age for both is slightly below 100. Still neck deep in denial that they love each other, as per usual.

Her blood rushed, eyes blood red, the same hue that stained her lips, and dribbled down her chin. She took in a ragged breath and calmed herself. Slowly straightening her posture and taking a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping the blood away. She closed her mouth and swallowed, trying to clear the evidence of her latest meal in her mouth.

Looking down, she watched him lay peacefully on the bed. Eyes closed, breathing slowly. His sand-colored hair covered his eyes, and she brushed it away, eyeing his neck once more, where two small puncture wounds sat.

One would think a vampire would get used to seeing it, but not Sarada. It made her stomach lurch to think that she needed to feed on humans in order to stay alive. Quietly, she hovered over him and slowly licked the wound until it closed, leaving not a single trace behind. She sat on the edge of the bed and lingered a little more, waiting for her heart to stop racing.

She started when two swift knocks were made on the window. A light gasp escaped her lips, and then frowned when she saw who it was. With a huff, she got out of bed and opened the window. “What are you doing here, Boruto?”

He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he looked at the boy sleeping on the bed, and then back at her. “You done feeding yet? Let’s get out of here.”

Sarada sighed. Boruto did not approve of this boy knowing what she was and got even touchier when he found out she had been feeding on him almost exclusively for a few weeks behind his back. She gazed towards the bed for a while, contemplating if it was really alright to leave already. She had taken a little more than usual, out of her frustration with a spat she had with Boruto earlier. It surprised her twice as much to even see him here, fetching her.

“You don’t have to go all the way there, you can just feed on me and we’ll be good.”

Sarada swiftly turned to face him, livid. “Are you listening to yourself, Boruto?”

“Yes, and maybe, you should too.” He then flicked her forehead lightly. “For once, ya know?”

She ground her teeth and balled her hands into fists. “Why do you keep bringing this up? You know why I can’t do that.”

“Some group of old vampires isn’t gonna tell me what I can and can’t do with my blood, Sarada.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he continued, tugging at her hands and turning his face to the side, baring his neck. She could instantly see the vein pulsing with blood that she so badly needed, it was starting to make her mouth water. “You know you want me.” He smirked.

Although Boruto was trying to lighten the mood, it did the opposite. Her temper flared. “Do you remember what happened the last time I fed on you? Do you want that to happen again?”

The smirk melted off his face and hurt flashed in his eyes. “Sarada… that was decades ago.”

“An eternity could pass and I would still not forget!” Sarada shouted, her eyes were on fire. “How could you forget?”

“I didn’t forget!” He reasoned. “You’re older now, and you can control yourself better. Werewolf blood is supposed to make vampires stronger. Don’t you want that?” He looked at his hands, grasping for more words. “Why would you rather go to that boy? You don’t even know him. He could be poisoning you with bad blood or something!”

Now she was seeing red. “Are you calling me weak? You think I need you to be strong? That I can’t tell if I’m being poisoned?”

“That’s not what I meant!” He retorted. There was so much yelling… so much hurt and confusion… years of pent up emotion flooding. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to get sick again. Do you think I would want that for you? Did you forget how scared I was that you could barely open your eyes?”

She bit her lower lip. How could she forget? She thought she was going to die. Even her own parents thought she might. But still, she hardened her heart. “I won’t do it.” Just because it happened before, doesn’t mean it will happen again. There was nothing Sarada feared more than for her to lose Boruto, and if it were to happen by her own fangs…

“Sarada, please. Let me—“

“I won’t!” She screamed before running away.

His incessant sniffing made her tear her gaze away and brought her back to the present day. She turned to face him. His brows were furrowed, leaning far too close to her face for comfort. Boruto then huffed, blowing her bangs in disarray.

“What are you doing?” Sarada placed her hand on his face and pushed him, putting some space between them. When he started raising his voice, giving her a sermon about how rash she was being, Sarada decided it was better to leave.

She placed a foot on the window sill and jumped out onto the roof to join him. For a moment, she thought he would transform into his wolf form, but he didn’t. Instead, he held on to her wrist and they both jumped across the roofs together until they reached the edge of the village, and into the forest.

Boruto didn’t say a word to her, neither did he let go of her wrist. His hold wasn’t too tight, but it was firm. She just hated it whenever he got so… territorial. Sarada knew he was looking out for her, but she didn’t need a babysitter. She’s already eighty-two! If her parents didn’t need to breathe down her neck anymore, then Boruto has no right to as well.

“Boruto.”

He didn’t respond, neither did he stop walking. Dead leaves and twigs crunched under their feet.

“Boruto,” Sarada spoke a little louder this time, but still got no response.

“Stop it!” She shouted as she pulled her wrist free.

Immediately, he turned around. His blue eyes were intense. Although no words were exchanged between them, the way his blood rushed and heart pounded was enough to tell Sarada how he felt.

She could hear his heart pounding in her ears, the way the wind carried his scent to her nostrils made her cheeks fill with heat. Sarada shut her eyes tightly. She had just fed! And even if, she couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of Boruto’s scent and blood. It’s been happening more frequently over the last couple of years…

Her father said it was because her body was changing, and her senses were getting sharper but her mother had said otherwise. Humans in this physical age were more prone to these kinds of… feelings. Whenever Sakura would try to talk about it, Sasuke would cut her off, telling Sakura it didn’t exactly work that way for vampires.

But Sarada isn’t just a vampire. She was a human, too. Perhaps her mama was right, maybe this was her human side showing. Her body aged far slower than humans, but she looked like one, and sometimes, behaved like one. Or so she would like to think.

Sarada’s behavior wasn’t near as solitary as her fathers’, but her mama also explained it was just his personality, as vampires usually live in collective societies back in the day. It was just a little more common now for certain factions and clans to separate, but they still lived amongst each other and would reconvene with other vampires within a century or two. Perhaps it was Boruto’s pack mentality getting to her, and his human side rubbing off on her as well. Although it was a factor, she knew there was something more behind it…

The little clearing that she and Boruto had been playing in since they were children–slowly–Sarada had claimed it to be their own. Building a little shack nearby, with a small fireplace and a nest of pelts and pillows right by it. She liked to cuddle up with Boruto’s wolf form during cold, winter days and would sometimes even fall asleep with him, forgetting that she had a home to go back to, and a real bed waiting.

It was just… with Boruto, she always felt like she was at home.

Her hands began to shake, and she felt him approach her, his heart beating louder and louder, making it hard to concentrate.

She had just fed, yet she wanted to sink her teeth into him.

When the thought crossed her mind, she raised her hands to cover her mouth, relieved that her fangs weren’t showing… yet.

“Hey.” Boruto held on to her wrist again, gently pulling it away from her face. “Sarada?” His concern shone clear in his blue eyes. The way his lips parted made her want to know how they might feel on hers.

She shook her head and turned around, not wanting to face him. Since when did he get so handsome? He used to have a round face and chubby cheeks. When did his jaw get so defined, or his voice that deep? Since when was he so… attractive?

Sarada closed her eyes and willed her heart to calm down. This was Boruto. She may have fed on him once before, but she was sick, and had no choice. The outcome and damage she did to him… tears pooled at her eyes.

She didn’t want to remember. The look of horror in his eyes, and the way he staggered back in fear… It still amazed her that despite almost killing him, despite his father and pack forbidding him, he forgave her and forced her to hang out with him again. His loyalty really knew no bounds.

“Sarada…” his voice was deep, careful. “You’re shaking…”

He was right… she felt as if she was made of loose stones, and she could crumble at any moment.

“Is it because we fought?” He asked softly, all intensity in his eyes were gone. Anger had been replaced with concern. Boruto always was quick to forgive and forget.

She shook her head. None of this was his fault, and he didn’t deserve to feel like he needed to apologize for it.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her from behind, making her freeze. She felt him sniffing at her hair, and by the side of her face. “Did he do something to you?” He sniffed some more. “I didn’t smell anything off earlier.” He sniffed at her again, this time coming down to her neck, making the hair at the back of her neck rise. “Tell me, Sarada. I’ll kill him if you want me to.”

A low rumble came from her chest and then laughter bubbled out of her lips. Look at this idiot. She was trying to calm herself from drinking every last drop of blood he had in his body and he was worried a mere human had hurt her.

Definitely an idiot. But so, so sweet.

“What?” He pulled his head away from her, but still kept her arms around Sarada. His wolf ears popped out on the top of his head, and his tail appeared as well, wagging slightly. “Sarada, tell me!”

She giggled and then turned to face him, her hands resting on his chest as his rested at the small of her back. She threw him a sly grin. “Why, Boruto? Jealous?”

His ears perked up, and a light blush stained his cheeks. “M-me? Jealous?” He looked away. “Don’t be stupid.”

Sarada laughed again. “Really? I can see you blush under the moonlight.”

“I am not!” He denied.

“Then why won’t you look my way?” She challenged.

“You stink.” He huffed. “You smell like that human.”

She scoffed, but secretly inhaled a little deeper to check. She did smell a little different… The smell of blood hung around her… Sarada tried to cover it up, “You’re a terrible liar.”

Boruto kept on sniffing, and nudged her cheek with his moist nose, making her giggle, making her forget. It was so easy to fall back into step with Boruto. Being with him was so natural and comforting.

“Oh bite me!” He growled, still touchy with all her teasing.

Before she could even think about it, she responded, “You would want that.”

He blinked and then smirked. “Now you’re finally listening to me, huh? Fucking finally. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

It was funny–well–meant to be funny but somehow, no one was laughing. Sarada looked at Boruto with wide eyes, lips parted in a light gasp.

Did he just…

Boruto sneezed right at her face.

“That’s disgusting, Boruto!” She complained and wiped her face.

“Eehh!” He whined, “Not my fault you stink.”

She puffed her cheeks and pinched his nose. “Then don’t breathe! And don’t you dare sneeze at my face again!”

Boruto closed his eyes tightly and shook his head until she let go. He backpedaled and held his nose. “Oooww! That’s painful, ya know?”

She placed her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at him. He glared back, jutted out his lower lip, and his wolfy ears dropped down. It’s amazing, really. How he could say nothing and yet he make her feel so much. Sarada tried her best to maintain her icy stare, and yet… she found herself folding.

Sarada sighed and turned around. “Fine, fine. I’ll go home.”

“What?” Boruto ran in front of her and held on to her upper arms. “Why?”

She lifted her brow. “You said I stink. I’m going to go take a bath.”

“And leave me here?” Boruto screeched.

She closed her eyes. He was too loud and needy for his own good. She smirked at the last thought. “First you said I stink, and now that I want to fix that, you’re making me stay. What do you want?”

His ears perked up, and his tail wagged. “I want you to stay.”

She pursed her lips. “But you said I stink…”

His face twisted, and this made Sarada’s brows furrow. Now what did he want?

Before her eyes, Boruto morphed into a giant wolf. She didn’t flinch, but she did lift her hand to rest on his muzzle, which he leaned into. His blue eyes never left hers.

After a moment of stillness, he sidestepped around her and rubbed his side on her–a little too rough for her liking. Sarada almost fell, but before she could, Boruto was already at the other side, rubbing his head on her. He kept on going, rubbing his fur on her.

Sarada couldn’t keep up with his speed, still dazed and confused at what he was up to. She didn’t even know anymore which parts of him were touching her. All she could feel was his warm fur brushing on her skin, hearing him pant, and push his wet nose at her face.

“Boruto!”

He stopped abruptly in front of her, tongue hanging out and she could have sworn he was smiling.

Now you don’t smell like that human anymore.

She groaned. “Yeah but now I smell like you.”

Which is better than that human.

“That’s subjective.”

The wolf snorted. You like my smell. Admit it. Besides, he shifted to face her, but his gaze was no longer steady on hers. He looked so… shy. I can do more for you than make you smell good, ya know? If you let me…

Her gaze softened and with her right hand, gently petting his head, her left hand coming up to rest lightly on his muzzle. Slowly, her right hand slid closer to his neck, disappearing into his soft, thick undercoat.

Boruto stopped panting as Sarada’s right hand rested on his jugular, both of them deeply aware of his heartbeat. They looked at each other, and even when no words were exchanged, they understood.

His ears dropped, and his eyes widened, giving her his best puppy eyes.

She laughed and patted his head. “You can’t always get what you want when you look at me like that, Boruto.”

He whined a bit, hoping that this would take the cake, but she didn’t budge. She laughed again and brought her forehead to his instead and closed her eyes. “You’re not my prey,” she whispered. “I don’t want to take it from you.”

You’re not taking. I’m offering.

Sarada shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

Yes, you do. You smelled like you wanted me.

She scoffed. “That’s bold of you.”

Boruto whined, and gave her his best puppy dog eyes yet again, hoping it would be enough to sway her. All it did was make her giggle.

“Willing to risk your life, all because you’re jealous of a human boy?”

The giant wolf snorted and pushed her using his nose. I am not!

She stopped teasing and wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his fur, relishing how warm and fuzzy he was. Sarada understood his reasons, but couldn’t accept them just yet. She trusted him with her whole life, but she couldn’t trust herself with him. Boruto’s the one who shapeshifts into a beast, but she felt like she was the real monster between them. She sighed and nuzzled a little closer. “I’m sorry…”

Boruto didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. He leaned into her and closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a while until a shiver ran down Sarada’s spine.

Feeling cold?

She pressed herself closer to him, trying to absorb more of his warmth.

Before she could respond, Boruto got down on the ground for her to hop on. She smiled and agreed to ride on his back. He didn’t take off at full speed, neither did he take his time. The pace gave Sarada time to think and appreciate how the forest looked under the moon’s glow, but not slow enough to let her doze off.

Finally, they reached their little clearing and she took a deep breath, appreciating the crisp, autumn air. Boruto slowed down to a walk as they approached the little shack they had both built. Gingerly, she slid off his back and walked ahead to open the door for him. Once inside, she piled some logs into the fire pit and scratched two stones together until it sparked a fire.

Boruto was already lying down behind her, leaving space by his side for her to lean on. She shuddered a bit, and then hastily went to his side to lie down, making herself comfortable.

You sure you want to sleep here? The sun will be up soon.

She nodded. “As long as you stay with me until it sets again.”

Boruto lowered his head down to rest on her lap. I promise to stay by your side for as long as you’ll let me.

“Let me think… how long can I tolerate you for?”

He raised his head and looked at her, and she could swear he was frowning at her. She grinned.

“Probably a few more decades… or I don’t know. I think I can stretch it out a bit more. Say… an eternity? Yeah, I think I can let you stay that long with me.”

Boruto snorted and made himself comfortable on her lap. Then I will stay with you for an eternity, and another… if need be.

“If we live long enough.”

It’s not living without you, ya know?

“How cheesy.”

He smirked. Told ya, I could give you more if you would let me.

To have Boruto be with her for eternity was already more than enough… but perhaps when she was ready, she could take him up on his offer. Who knows, it might come a lot sooner than she thinks.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I was working on this one-shot on and off for a little over a month. Do let me know what you think!

If you like what I write, please check out my #fanfiction tag, and check out my profile. I have links to my master post, ffnet, Ao3, Twitter, and Ko-Fi there!

#borusara #boruto and sarada #boruto x sarada #boruto #boruto uzumaki #sarada #sarada uchiha #drink your fill #DYF #borusara vampire au #vampire au #fanfiction #BoruSara DYF #borusara fanfic #borusara fic #borusara fanfiction #borusara werewolf au #boruto vampire au #boruto werewolf au

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dassala · 5 years

Text

Trapped

A Captain Swan Canon Divergence Fic - Rated M

After they find themselves stuck in the Enchanted Forest of the Past, Emma and Killian embark on a journey to find their way home - wherever (and whenever) home may be.

Season 3, Episode 22 - We begin in the last few minutes of the episode...

Chapter One

“How’s the portal coming? Can you open it?”

Emma and Hook stormed into the main hall of the Dark One’s castle, the all-familiar look of hope blooming behind Emma’s green eyes. Their journey was almost complete. Per Rumple’s instructions, they had put the past back to rights with only the tiny exception of releasing a prisoner from Regina’s dungeon. As they prepared to return to Storybrooke, the woman expressed profuse gratitude and fled back to her home and family. Finally standing in front of the Dark One himself, they were waiting anxiously to be sent back to the future.

“I cannot,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, pouring something of a sulfurous odor into the bowl before him.

Emma’s brow furrowed as her nose turned up at the smell. She stared down for a moment into the obviously magical brew in front of the impish man. “Well, then what are you working on?” She felt Hook’s posture shift beside her.

Rumplestiltskin stirred the contents of the bowl together with a smirk. The concoction took on a bluish glow. “Oh, this is for me. A forgetting potion.” He raised his golden gaze to the pair before him. “I know too much about my future. The only way to protect it is to forget it.”

Emma’s jaw dropped a minute amount as she clenched her fists with anxiety. Hook took a step closer to her, his hand finding its way to the hilt of his sword. She glanced back down at the table and gestured to a black, twisted rod laid next to the potion. “Well, what about this wand? You said that could help us.”

“Oh that,” Rumple smirked, “Well apparently, only those who used the portal can reopen it.”

Glancing back to Hook, Emma watched his frown deepen.

“So unless you can wield magic, I’m afraid you’re going nowhere.” The smaller man grasped the wand in his gold-flecked hand. He chuckled and tossed it to Emma. “Can you?”

She caught the wand and looked down at it. Before Zelena had managed to remove her magic, she might have felt a pulsing, tingling rush from an object of such power. Now, it was no more than a twig in her hands.

“Thought not,” Rumple smirked.

Hook stepped up, his body language tense. The look upon his face was murderous.

“So you just expect us to stay here?” the pirate growled, his fingers twitching upon the hilt of his sword. “What about protecting your precious future?”

Rumple lifted his hands, his fingers fluttering with excitement. The Rumplestiltskin of the past was much more gesticulative than the Mr. Gold she’d come to know in Storybrooke. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

There was the sharp, unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its scabbard as Hook lifted his blade and pointed it directly at the giggling creature before them. “He means to kill us, Swan!”

“No!” Rumple grinned, revealing a set of grotesque teeth between sparkling lips. “I mean to put you someplace safe -- somewhere far from here. And should you return to tell me of my future again, all memories of your lives before now shall vanish completely.” He gave a flick of his wrist.

“Rumple━!” Emma’s protest was cut short as she and her pirate companion vanished in a cloud of purplish smoke.

There was a hum of magic in the air for a fleeting second as the smoke dissipated. Emma found herself in a clearing, surrounded by the large trees typical of the Enchanted Forest. Hook was still behind her, his sword having vanished. He cursed under his breath.

“Bloody crocodile.”

She glanced down at the wand, still in her hands. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “We're stuck.”

“You've still got the wand,” Hook observed. He gestured to her hands. “All you've got to do, love, is get the wretched thing working.”

“How?! You know what Zelena did to me.”

“Aye, and now she's dead. Her curses should have broken. You just don’t want your magic.”

Emma's gaze narrowed. “You think I'm faking this?”

Pursing his lips, Hook shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “I think that without magic, you'd find it quite easy to fold back into your life in New York. You don't want to admit it's still a part of you.”

“Hook, I want to go home more than anything!” Tears were welling in her eyes as she gripped the wand with more fervor.

The pirate's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Home? New York?”

“Storybrooke. Henry was right. You were right. I need to stop running. Seeing my Mom die was…” she paused and swallowed back a sob. “I wanted her back so bad.”

His gaze softening, Hook looked from Emma to the wand in her hand. “I'm rather glad to hear that, Swan, but until we get your magic back up to snuff…”

Emma nodded and sighed. She glanced around them. “I don't even know where to start.”

“I've an idea or two,” Hook scratched behind his ear.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“A pint wouldn't go amiss,” he rocked on his feet.

Emma gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“Unless you have a better plan, love? It's been a hell of a couple of days. A tavern would also be the right kind of place to turn for a hot meal and a place to stay for the night,” his voice was more stern than she anticipated. He adjusted his rucksack, raising his eyebrows in her direction.

Biting her lower lip, Emma replied with a sheepish nod. She regretted the bit of sass she’d thrown at him in judgment. He would know better about the best places to go when lost, hungry, and tired.

“C'mon,” he gestured toward the main road, which was visible a few yards away, through the trees.

The pair walked in silence for a long while before either spoke.

“Don't suppose you have money to pay for any of this, do you?”

Hook smirked and gave a simple nod. “A pirate is always prepared.”

They passed a few people first, then a handful of peasants with horses and carts. As they neared a small village, Emma's stomach growled. She still wore her prison rags, her hair down around her shoulders. A few men in town gave her lingering looks as she passed. She tried her best to ignore them, choosing instead to focus on saving what integrity remained of her thin, flat leather shoes.

“In here,” Hook muttered, gesturing down an alley. There was an open door to the right, from which a solid warmth and a distinctive smell emanated.

Pulling her hood over her hair, Emma entered the tavern. A rickety sign above gave the place the name of ‘The Horn and Drum’. A rather frightening looking man was tending the bar. He pulled a tray full of pints before sliding it over to a bar wench whose top was leaving very little to the imagination. She was pretty enough, but when she flashed a smile at Hook, Emma spied a rather unkempt set of teeth.

“Oi, two pints please,” Hook demanded, patting the bar top with his palm. “And two plates of whatever you've got on the fire in the kitchens.”

The barkeep, with a red, ulcerated face and a bulbous nose, leaned in their general direction. “Pretty lass you've with you. She working?”

Emma wasn't sure what insulted her more: the fact that he had implied she was a prostitute, or that he wouldn't ask her directly. Her gaze narrowed but she kept her head low.

“You want to watch the way you speak of a man's wife?” His voice landed loud and hard on the word “wife,” and beneath her hood, Emma’s eyes widened.

“Pardon,” the man laughed, which turned into a dry cough, “just ain't used to her kinda looks ‘round here. Lucky man, you are.”

Hook pressed two gold coins onto the bar and slid them toward the man. “I know I am.” Emma felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. The barkeep's compliments were easy to brush off, but to hear Hook say he'd be a lucky man if she were his wife, well, that was something a shade more personal.

“We've been traveling and we're tired. Give me a room, our meals, and our pints. And then we'll be off.”

The gold coins must have been a large sum. The man scrambled to collect them and snapped his fingers at the bar wench they'd encountered on their way into the tavern.

“Louise, take this man and his wife up to our best room. Feed and water ‘em.”

The young woman gave Hook a disappointed look and gestured to the stairs. “Up there, sir.”

Emma followed the young woman per Hook's direction. He walked behind her, as if to fend off an attack from the rear. She took in the sight of the shabby dwelling and heard the girl whisper to the Captain.

“And should ye get bored with ‘er, I'll be workin’ late tonight.”

“Make sure the food's hot,” Hook snapped in annoyance before closing the door. He sighed as he gave Emma an apologetic look. “Sorry, it's…”

“Just the way things are, got it.” She rubbed her hands together for warmth and turned to face the fireplace.

She heard him release a heavy sigh. He glanced around the room and took a look out the lone, dirty window. “Think we'll be fine here. Doubt the Queen has much business in these parts. We're quite a way from where we left your parents.”

Her hands a bit warmer, Emma turned and took a better look around the room. There was a small table with two chairs, a mirror with a pitcher and basin, and one bed with threadbare blankets and a straw-stuffed mattress. When she looked away from the bed, she found Hook removing his jacket with care. He gestured to a thin rug on the floor beside the bed.

“When it becomes less necessary to keep up appearances, Swan, I’ll be sleeping here. You should have the bed.”

She opened her mouth to protest. Hook's brows knit together as he frowned in her direction.

“Bad form to let a lass sleep on the floor,” he explained with a wave of his false hand.

“Thank you,” she muttered, “but you don't have to lay on the chivalry just because we've taken a major leap backwards in women’s rights. We’ll take turns. Next stop, you can have the bed… for however long we’re stuck here.”

“No need,” he shook his head in dismissal, “it’ll be like old times. I used to sleep on the deck of Silver’s ship in my wasted youth.”

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their dinner. A different servant girl entered the room and placed a tray on the small table, then hurried about to light the candles on the wall sconces and nightstands. The poor thing was frightfully thin, with dull, deep brown hair plaited down her back. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. The maternal instincts Emma had discovered since finding Henry caused a knot to tighten in her stomach. The girl kept her eyes to the floor as she gave a small curtsey before leaving.

“No child labor laws here, huh?”

Hook frowned as he took a seat at the table. “She's lucky to have employment at all. Many children find themselves begging for coins on the side of the road.”

With a huff of fruitless irritation, Emma moved to the table and glanced down into two steaming bowls of... something. She turned up her nose at the sight of the mystery meat swimming in a broth the color of mud.

“I’d get used to the local fare, love, or else you won’t have the energy to travel,” Hook smirked. He took a seat and dug into the meager meal. He thought as he chewed a spoonful, then nodded. “Mm, nothing exotic. Mutton. Overcooked, but you’ll have that.”

Finally feeling the warmth from the fire, Emma loosened her cloak and took a seat, pushing back her cloak to hang over the back of her chair. She picked up the wooden spoon and fished out a vegetable resembling a carrot. Taking a tentative bite, she was pleasantly surprised at the flavor and found her hunger awakened. Overcooked mutton be damned; she was going to eat every bite of her meal.

“After I finish, I’ll go downstairs and inquire after the Black Fairy. See if anyone has passed through with knowledge of how to summon her,” Hook spoke, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a tattered cloth napkin that had seen better days. He lifted his ale and tipped the pewter mug a bit in Emma’s direction. “Here’s to finding our way home.”

Emma lifted her own mug in reply and tapped it against the pirate’s. She gave a small, hopeful smile. “To getting home.”

Hook embarked downstairs to make his inquiries, leaving Emma alone in the room. She sat upon the lumpy bed, drawing in a breath of unfamiliar air. Between the crickets chirping outside, the crackling of the fireplace, and a dull murmur of voices through the floorboards, she found her eyes getting heavy. She fluffed up the pillow to the best of her ability before lying down. Moonlight was visible through the shoddy rafters. If it rained, she would most certainly get wet.

It seemed as if she was on the verge of drifting off when Hook entered the room. She turned her head and rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm.

“My apologies, Swan,” he muttered, his voice soft. “Please, don’t let me disturb you.”

Emma sat up and cleared her throat, shaking her head. She ran a hand through her hair before extending her arms to the side in a stretch. “No, it’s okay. Did you learn anything down there?”

“Unfortunately not,” he replied, shedding his coat and taking a seat once more in his chair. “Just a fair bit of ire thrown my way for asking about fairies at all. It appears we’re in one of the less magically-inclined villages of the Enchanted Forest.”

“With an Evil Queen that uses magic against people, I’m not surprised,” Emma sighed and looked at her shoes. She slipped them off, placing them at the side of the bed. “I suppose we should get some rest, then.”

“Aye, seems a good idea,” he stood and grabbed his jacket, balling it up into a makeshift pillow. He carefully sat on the floor beside the bed and leaned back, crossing his booted feet one over the other. “Sleep well, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Hook.”

“Killian will do, you know.” He spoke from the floor, eyes closed. A smirk was on his lips.

“Goodnight, Killian,” Emma replied, and despite the guilt she felt in taking the more comfortable sleeping accommodations, she could hardly extend an invite for him to share the bed with her. Knowing the man was enamored with her made the entire situation a bit more fragile. She adjusted the long gray gown she wore from Regina’s prison in an attempt to maintain her modesty and laid back to get some rest.

Despite her exhaustion, it seemed that rest was not to be had. Emma jumped at the sound of the door being thrown open in the next room, her eyes snapping wide open. Only then did she realize that the walls between the rooms were paper-thin. The next sounds were definitely the stuff of nightmares. She forced her eyes closed as a girl giggled and ran about the room. The door slammed shut behind a heavy-footed man, who growled low in his throat as he stomped across the floor. With a squeal, the girl’s giggles melted into moans.

As if it wasn’t already incredibly awkward to be sleeping next to a pirate who was obviously attracted to her, now they would be treated to the live action sounds of a late-night tryst. Emma swallowed hard as she did her best to think of other things, but the girl’s moans only increased in volume. It wasn’t long before a repetitious beat of a headboard slamming against the wall behind her filled her ears. The momentum even caused the room to vibrate in time with the neighboring boarders’ exertions.

Emma’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She opened her eyes again and stared at the ceiling, keeping her breath steady as possible. The fluttering of the candlelight with each of the booms against the wall merely punctuated the sound. There was no escaping the amorous encounter in the adjoining space. Graciously, the pounding didn’t last long, and the gentle, crackling fire again filled the room as their neighbors settled into silence.

With a shaky breath, Emma turned onto her side and closed her eyes, willing herself back to sleep. She heard Killian mutter beneath his breath as he shifted on the floor.

“Bloody racket... hardly worth the effort…”

#cs fic #trapped #chapter one #captain swan ff

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sidhewrites · 5 years

Photo

CHAPTER 6B. Previous Installment found here. Approx 2600 words. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

But sleep did not come easily that night. Coriander tossed and turned in her little bed, fighting the urge to slip into her mother’s room and curl up with her. After her father passed, it had taken years for them to be able to sleep in separate beds again, but Coriander always felt bad being the one to go to her mother. And besides, she’d caused enough trouble for one day. Bestina needed her rest.

If only Coriander’s mind would let her do the same. There was a physician so close to them, so easy to reach. Coriander could send a letter, requesting they stop by eventually, but there was no telling how long before the physician would find time for someone who didn’t need immediate help. Preventative care was all very well and good, of course, but there were plenty for whom it was already too late. Who needed splints and sutures, or tonics, or, Fate be kind, surgeries.

And there were so many things in Mowry that most everyone Knittelnau have never seen. Hundreds of people more, multi-level buildings, a clock tower.

She wrestled with her conscience for hours before sleep finally found her, though it was far from restful, and she was still tired when daylight found her. Coriander woke to the chickens crowing outside just after dawn, demanding to be fed. She dragged herself from bed, head aching, still bleary and half wishing the sunrise would reverse itself for just another hour or two. But chores had to be done, and chickens waited for nothing and no-one.

So she dressed properly -- poque belt, petticoat, bodice, and waistcoat, with her kerchief only loosely tied around her neck -- and and made way for the back door, stopping just long enough to listen at Bestina’s door. A light snoring sounded through the wood. Still asleep, thank Fate. She could have breakfast prepared before Bestina even woke up, and maybe smooth things over from last night. Coriander grabbed her boots from their place by the door and slipped out into daylight.

The garden faced northeast, and it seemed more beautiful than ever this early in the day. Coriander looked out at the the plants and spices, and the flower fields beyond, at the golden glow that seemed to make everything feel more alive. Almost magical.

She basked in the beauty for a moment -- and then a man’s yelp, followed by frantic clucking, pulled her back to reality. Coriander blinked rapidly, pulling the coat more tightly around herself, and ran for the chickens.

“Jasper?”

He had one foot keeping the coop’s door mostly shut, and one hand inside with a handful of feed. The chickens fought against him, trying to get to the small pile of feed behind him -- spilled from the overturned back that should have still been in storage.

“Ah -- good morning Miss Tippit!” He grinned, though some color turned his dark skin even darker. “Beautiful sunrise, isn’t it?”

“Um -- w-would you like to let the chickens out?”

She didn’t miss the relief in his eyes. “What a splendid idea. They’ve been clucking and cawing at me all morning, demanding a proper breakfast.”

“All morning?”

“Since dawn, at least.”

She looked out at the sun, which hadn’t even fully risen above the horizon.

Jasper laughed, and shrugged. “Well -- ten minutes, anyway. Mister Waites wants to leave early, and I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

She whirled back to Jasper, eyes wide. “Mister Waites?”

He nodded. “Yes. He’s taking me there. Said he has business with a physician there, apparently. I was inquiring at town hall yesterday afternoon, I ran into him there.”

She was quiet for a moment, going between confusion about how she’d missed this, and at Jasper’s choice of words. They didn’t have a town hall. They weren’t even a proper town. The mayor mostly conducted business in his own home, and community meetings were held in the square.

“Well -- forgive me. The public house, I suppose. They’ve got two very nice rooms for travellers, though I’m sure you already knew that -- would you like me to open the door now?”

Coriander blinked, and nodded, still not totally sure what was going on.

Jasper released the chickens, who descended upon the pile of feed just as Coriander lifted the bag out of their way and began to scoop some of it up. Jasper knelt to help only for the chickens to start pecking at the pile -- and at his hands. Jasper stood with a yelp, dancing around and continuing his tale despite the fowl harassing his boots.

“Anyway there were lots of people there yesterday, all talking about Sir Erron, and asking me all these questions. And you know I loathe being the center of attention --” the smile he gave her suggested the opposite “-- but I did my best to help settle their fears that I was not a mysterious queenly spy, and certainly I wasn’t here to discuss incorporating Knittelnau into a larger territory.”

He went on, still trying to avoid the chickens. Coriander listened as he spun a tale of political intrigue. Coriander dragged the bag of feed back to its proper place, just inside the spice garden, where it seemed Jasper had left his cloak and travelling bag. He followed her out quickly, leaping up to stand on the fence, not unlike someone leaping onto a chair to avoid mice. Coriander fought the urge to laugh as she herded the chickens away from him.

Jasper finally relaxed with a sigh, leaping down to the ground on the other side of the fence. “My thanks, Miss Tippit. Those are some clever sentries you’ve got there.”

She nodded, slipping out and shutting the gate behind her as Jasper continued his tale.

“Finally, a tall fellow with an impressive beard and fine coat -- you know, Mister Waites really does have a fine coat -- he walked in to stop my assurances in their tracks and asked when I’d be going. It seems that he had business with a physician up there. He hasn’t had a travelling partner to take to Mowry for a few years yet, not since his husband passed -- Sylph keep him -- and asked if we might go together. Provided I know a few good travelling songs, of course.”

“Oh. I-I see.”

“I do, you know.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

She hesitated. “Do what?”

“Know good travelling songs.”

“Oh.”

“Shall I sing one for you?”

“Ehm…” She glanced down. Besides the bag of feed, a watering can sat at her feet.

“May I sing if I help you with your chores?”

She flushed. “Oh -- I, ehm. I can do it. But…”

He grinned, and leapt from the wall. “Just tell me when to stop singing.” He started with a simple tune, something Coriander knew herself, and rushed to the water pump so that he already hand his hands on the lever by the time she got there. Coriander hesitated, but allowed him to fill the watering can. He sang as she worked, changing to a different song once the first ended, and then to a song he’d made up himself.

Clopping sounded from the road at the bottom of the hill. Coriander had knelt down to prune one of the younger plants, and glanced up. Jasper hadn’t stopped singing, even as he looked out at the road, more forlorn than she had ever seen him. He finally ended the song and spoke, sounding as happy as ever despite his expression: “That sounds like Mister Waites.”

Did he know she was looking at him?

Jasper inhaled deeply, and turned to face her fully, his usual demeanor returning instantly. “Well. I shouldn’t keep him waiting. I told him I’d be here before we left. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my friend, now could I?”

Something tugged at Coriander’s heart, and a lump formed in her throat in an instant. Right … he was leaving. “Friend?” she echoed.

Jasper rushed forward to take her hands. “Don’t look so sad, Miss Tippit. I may be a poor navigator, but I’m an excellent traveller. I’m practically made up of road-stuff, you know.” He shook his hair at her, letting a few twigs fall out, and grinned hopefully.

She made herself smile back.

Jasper’s smile finally fell. “Now that’s terribly rude. I finally get a smile out of you, and it’s when we’re saying goodbye. I can write to you, if you like. Tell you all about Gaelgallah when I get there, and how handsome the elves find me. I’ll be turning suitors away left and right, wishing for the happy days where it was just us sitting in a flower field making daisy chains. And you won’t believe a word of it, because you know I’ll have already fallen in love with the handsomest man there. Right?”

She nodded. “Right.”

“May I hug you, Miss Tippit?”

She nodded again.

His arms were gentle. Coriander leaned into the hug, reluctantly at first, but as a tear slid down her cheek, she squeezed him back. He would write. And if she was lucky, her mother wouldn’t mind it too much. She wouldn’t leave home, after all. Just hear from a -- from a friend who had.

Bestina coughed behind them.

Coriander shot back from Jasper, wiping her tears quickly. “Ma -- good morning. How are you feeling?’

She leaned on the doorway in her shortgown and housecoat, loose braid thrown over her shoulder sloppily. “I was doing just fine until I saw my daughter in the arms of a scoundrel.”

“A scoundrel?” Jasper echoed, sounding almost excited, though his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He reached out to place a hand on Coriander’s shoulder, though he didn’t press once she flinched away. “I’ve never been one of those before, but you seem to know an awful lot about them. Tell me, how does one … scound?”

Bestina scowled. “I heard you had to leave for Mowry.”

“Oh, I do. Indeed, it’s very important I go there today. Which is why I’m here.”

“In my spice garden?”

“Bestina! You’re up early!”

All eyes turned to Waites, leaning a little too casually on the garden wall to seem natural. He smiled pleasantly, only slightly out of breath from the trek up the hill. He waved pleasantly. “Good morning, all.”

Bestina stiffened and straightened her posture, pulled her housecoat tighter around herself, and smiled. “Good morning. You don’t usually call on us so early.”

“I’m afraid I’m taking young Jasper to Mowry today. We thought it’d be nice to say goodbye first.”

“Oh. Well.” She shifted her weight and nodded again. “That’s very kind of you. Shall we send you off?”

“That would be very kind of you.” Waites looked over to Coriander and Jasper and shrugged. “Coriander? What’s wrong?”

She flinched and looked away, wiping at her face. “Oh -- ehm. I’m sorry, uh…”

Jasper shook his head. “I subjected poor Miss Tippit to my singing. I don’t think she’ll ever recover.”

“Is that so?” Waites stood upright and made his way into the garden properly to join them. “I quite liked your singing, you know. Have you ever heard him sing?”

Coriander thought it would be wiser not to nod. She glanced to her mother instead, who shook her head. “Never have,” Bestina said. “It’s a shame, Mister Jasper. You were such an interesting addition to the town. I’ll be sad to see you go.”

Liar, Coriander thought, but said nothing.

“Well, you don’t have to see him go, do you?” Waites asked.

Bestina frowned. “Do I?”

“I mean to say, we’re going to Mowry, Bess. You know, there’s a physician just moved in there. It might be a good idea to meet with them before it gets too hot.”

Oh. Coriander looked down and braced herself, well aware of what was coming next.

Her eyes darkened but her smile remained in place. “Indeed, my Coriander told me about that just last night.”

Oh no. Waites and Bestina liked each other well enough, but they were both stubborn as an old oak tree. The slightest disagreement could start an argument that lasted for weeks before they became friends again.

Jasper reached out again, laying a hand on her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away, waiting for voices and tempers to rise.

Waites remained unexpectedly civil, if a bit stiff. “I take it the idea of leaving doesn’t agree with you?”

“Not in my current state. Can’t make it past the farmland half the time, you know.”

“Well, I’ve got a cart. You could ride.”

They continued to discuss and negotiate, leaving Coriander and Jasper nearly forgotten. They stood silently, awkwardly, like children watching their parents bicker over menial niceties. Coriander couldn’t make herself look up from the ground, and Jasper chewed on his words, smile becoming stiffer the longer the discussion went on.

Finally Waites threw his hands in the air, though he had yet to raise his voice. “Fine, Bess. If you’re so adamant about doing nothing for your health, then at least send Coriander to speak with them.”

She paled at the mention of her name, glancing up only for a second before shrinking back into herself. Please not this again.

“Coriander isn’t going anywhere.” her mother said. “She’s not made for the road.”

Waites wasn’t having it. “You can’t sit at home and pray forever. Fate has sent a physician our way, and if you do nothing, you have only yourself to blame if things get worse.”

“What if something happens to her? How could I forgive myself then?”

“What will happen to her, Bes? It’s less than a day away. They have a single constable there. What do you think is going to happen? Are the roadweeds are going to grow legs and try to trip us so we skin our knees? Will she get too excited and spill her drink at the community theater? What?”

Bestina scowled. A long silence spread out between them.

Coriander took another step back, feeling a lump rise in her throat despite herself. This was her fault. She shouldn’t have accepted the extra money from Waites. Shouldn’t have told her mother about the physician in the first place. She didn’t need to see the clocktower. Didn’t need to go anywhere. She’d pick extra mint today, boil it into a tea, maybe make a stew out of it. And then everything would be all right. Jasper and Waites would leave for Mowry, and life would go back to normal.

Right ?

“Fine.”

Coriander’s head snapped up to see Bestina still scowling, feet planted. Had she heard correctly? She glanced over to Waites.

He looked almost smug, arms crossed, chin raised. Smirking. He was smirking. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Fine.” It was almost a hiss. One that made Coriander flinch, Jasper’s hand stiffen though he kept his composure well enough. And one that made Waites grin grow just that much wider. “Coriander can go bother the physician with something that doesn’t matter.”

“You can never be too safe with your health.”

“Just keep an eye on her. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Graces, Bes. What trouble do you think a girl like her can get into?” He grinned, first at Bestina, then at Coriander, who shrank into herself further. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

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vesperlionheart · 7 years

Text

Tam Lin

Sakura rolled the bead shaped pebble under her toe back and forth, feeling but not seeing it. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused as she stared into the amber liquid of her drink. Half of it was gone but it felt like if she tipped it over the beer would flow forever. She was already light from it.

There was a shadow that passed over her and then the seat across from her creaked from the weight of the visitor. She lifted her eyes and blinked until the vision in front of her came into focus. What she saw made her grin out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh, I had heard the royal brothers of a far off land were visiting to court the sisters of whirlpool, but I didn’t think I would see one here in this little hole in the wall.”

Sakura blinked and looked up at the window to the outside. She could see the sign hanging but couldn’t remember what the words meant. Her vision was blurred and she had to blink again to see better.

“He’s been looking for you. Have you heard?” Itachi asked.

“Hmm?”

Sakura blinked and kept her eyes closed while she adjusted her posture in the seat. The places where her skin was stitched back together were all still sore. Not even a single one felt better and it had been days. She always healed slower during the New Moon nights.

“It’s the whole reason we’re out here this far, since there was some business concerning children going missing near the moors. One of the wise women said it was fair folk business and that’s all he needed to hear.”

“Kelpie aren’t fair folk, technically speaking. They’re beasts… sentient beasts, but they just want to eat pretty tasty things.” Sakura’s eyes couldn’t focus and she felt the pebble crack under her toe when she sat up again. “But that’s beside the point, because the moors are plenty of miles west of here and there are a dozen different bars like this one you could have wandered into. What are you doing here?”

“Fifteen.”

She blinked. “What?”

“There are fifteen bars of this par and quality in the city. I’ve been to all of them.”

Sakura hummed. “I thought it was odd that all the princes were going out together to do this courting business like a big happy family, but I can guess better now. You’re the brains, aren’t you? Madara isn’t stupid but he’s sheltered, which is sometimes worse. He wouldn’t know how to find a person without his nose.”

Itachi reached out and grabbed a tankard off the tray that passed him by and when the table maid turned to tell him off he smiled and flashed her a silver coin she took with a blush and a stutter.

“He misses you terribly. Finding you again is all he seems interested in getting out of bed for. He’s turning out to not be what father hoped.”

Sakura raised a finger. “Let me stop you there and read your mind. Ah, the king blames me for that, does he. He says I bewitched or cursed his son and that it’s alllllll my fault. How’s that?”

Itachi sipped at his drink without turning his nose up at it, but set it aside after only a mouthful. “You’re not far off but he has no one to blame for how things went. I don’t blame my brother. He’s had so little kindness in his life it is not hard to believe he’d want to covet what little he’s tasted.”

Sakura swallowed, glancing towards the bar door. It wasn’t busy inside and she could see clearly and easily all the way to the front and back exit. She reached inside her cloak where the shadows were heaviest and pulled out some berries still on the twig. She popped a few into her drink and then knocked the whole tankard back.

“What was that?” Itachi asked.

“Is Madara on his way here?” Sakura countered.

“Maybe. It depends on how fast Sasuke can get to him.”

Sakura hummed and pushed her tankard across the table. “Sorry, but I need to leave. I don’t dislike your brother, but this and that aren’t things worth speaking about. I’m not ready for someone to think so well of me, and I’m afraid of what sort of terrible things he would see if he stayed too long or too close.” She smiled playfully. “Tell him to move on.”

“You think it would be that bad?” Itachi braced to stand but staggered, falling back into his seat. His eyes went wide. “What?”

“It’ll last only a few minutes but the more you fight it the longer it will last. Don’t fret, the effects aren’t long lasting at all.”

Itachi looked at the twig left bare on the table and then the pair of tankards. Sakura made a clucking note and he stared up at her.

“You put something in my drink,” he gasped.

“Nope, just mine, but it was an antidote to the toxin we were both exposed to when I crushed a hag berry under the table. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to stop running.”

Sakura turned towards the back door and stopped when the pain in her side made her gasp. She covered it with a chuckle and shook her head. Her eyes still swam fuzzy and she could smell her blood in places the shadows clung darkest. She turned and headed for the front entrance, staggering like the other drunks with a sloppy smile.

“Sakura, don’t do this. He’s not the sort of person that will give up.”

Something about the tone of his voice made her turn, hand on the doorframe, ready to leave. She looked back and smiled sadly, believing every word. “I know. I’m still sorry. There are many more miles I need to go before I am done.”

“Done with what? We can help you if you are in trouble with someone.”

Sakura laughed. “I doubt that. Tell your beautiful brother what you need to. Say I was with another man, or two or three, I’m a harlot that doesn’t love. Tell him I have money problems and I used him. Say what you need to, just don’t tell him to keep searching because that will only hurt him longer.”

She pulled the cloak’s hood down and stumbled out of the bar and into the shadows between streets and buildings.

The morbid part of her that liked to press her bruises until the pressure made them sting stopped and dominated her in that instant. She turned and looked back, watching as a pair of brothers too pretty to be peasants raced down the street. Madara passed the Dancing Pig pub, but Sasuke had to yell at him to turn back and Madara cursed about having to scramble. When he turned Sakura saw his face.

It hurt worse than any bruise.

“This is what you wanted, idiot,” she said to herself, backing away and drawing her cloak closer. She hurt all over and only half of the pain was from the bleeding bits of flesh.

The bites weren’t healing and she couldn’t wait for the full moon when they sapped her so much each day. She applied what she knew of medicines to closing the wounds and healing the sites, but Kelpis were terribly good at death curses. She would need something specific.

The stone at the end of her necklace tugged her down the old road that had been well worn maybe half a century ago, but not so recently. The locals spoke of Carter Hall like it was a haunted thing and Sakura was willing to believe them if she was heading there. She needed a double headed red or white rose and wasn’t willing to hike another hundred miles in the opposite direction.

She dropped the stone back to her chest and let it rest there, tugging her along as she pulled her skirts up over her knee to keep the branches and twigs from taring through her.

She saw the edges of the outer wall over the treetops and pressed on. More and more of the modest castle emerged from the brush, looking as old and worn as the rest of the road. Sakura could smell the roses and knew she was closer at last. She had walked too far to not be close by now.

When she staggered the leaves came away red.

There was an old wooden door that was broken in so many places it swung with the lightest of touches. She stepped over the grassy threshold and let the broken door swing open and hit the wall behind her. There was no one else around the hear the sound.

Sakura saw heavy bushes blooming and full with roses, but ignored the sight of them all to follow the tug around her neck. It would take her hours to look through all the roses until she founded what she wanted, but her stone led her right to where she needed to go, around the bend of a tower’s curve. Sakura had to climb up fallen debris long overgrown with weed and grass, but in the gapping hole in the tower’s side there was a monsters bush heavy with bloom. Each rose was as red as her blood.

White roses were better for bones and red for blood, so she was lucky.

Sakura reached into the thicket of thorns and grabbed at the double headed rose to tug it free.

“Stop!”

She whirled around, eyes going wide to soak up the surroundings for something she must have missed. Her eyes landed on the figure of a man, heading for her with the footsteps of a ghost.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the other elven features and gripped the thorny stem tighter in her hand, never minding the prick of thorns.

“Do not pull that double rose,” he said while reaching for her with one hand. “Lady, pull no more.”

Sakura raised a hand of her own and he stopped when he saw the palm and licked his lips, panting from the jog. “Who are you and where did you come from?”

“I am the master of Carter Hall. Who are you to come and go as you please throughout my lands?”

“I come and I go by my own leave, good lord, and it need not be on your will.” Sakura angled her chin up to stare down at the man below her, left at the base of the rubble she had climbed earlier. “And no one has claimed these lands in ages. They’re supposedly haunted.”

“I assure you, that is not the case. Please, release the double rose.”

Sakura tugged it out a little more, closer to herself and narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He almost looked nervous, but his voice didn’t shake when he spoke. “It is a piece of my property and I wish it to remain where it was placed. I need no further justification than that.”

Sakura tugged it a little more. “Wanna try that again?”

“Haunted, it may not be, but Carter Hall may still yet be a place of ill to those who do not fear or respect it. Release the rose. You know not what you do.”

Sakura yanked hard and the rose came away with a snap. The man cried out, reaching for her as he ascended the first step with hands outstretched. Magic screeched out from the place where the stem was ripped and Sakura felt her handprint throb with it, but after all she had been through, the Rebuke was little more than a breeze to her. At the very least it didn’t stop her from drawing her sword in her free hand and holding it across her chest as the man climbed up onto her rubble perch.

“You…” he breathed on a note of awe. “You are well still.”

“Funny how that happens. Are you going to leave me well or do I have to use this?” Sakura asked while shaking her sword.

“Not on m, I dare say.” He smiled at her and it was so disarming it made her flinch. “I am glad to see you are not taken with illness. Speak your name, lady.”

“Not until you tell me yours, stranger.”

“I am Hashirama, the Lord of Carter Hall and the Tam Lim to these lands.”

Sakura swore under her breath and dropped her sword a little more. “No wonder you sound like something from my grandfather’s youth.”

She didn’t bother asking how long he had been a Tam Lin, since the decay of the castle told her enough on its own. He had probably been cursed by a fairy queen over a hundred years ago by the look of things.

“And your name, lady. Pray speak it.”

He took a hesitant step closer to her, careful not to draw too close and be perceived as threatening.

“You can call me Sakura.”

She huffed and turned her sword around to fit back into the scabbard hidden between the folds of her skirt. His eyes followed the action and fixated on the discoloration of her skirts.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed. He approached her and knelt at her side even as Sakura turned her body around to hide the stain from her blood.

“It’s fine. It’s what I needed the rose for. I’ll be well with this. You can back off.”

He reached up for her hand and grasped it gently, like a gentle lord would. Sakura felt stiff at once and didn’t move as he rose to stand alongside her.

“Please, Lady Sakura, let me invite you in where you may rest.”

He held her hand with one of his own and swept the other out into a shallow bow before beckoning her to join him down at the base of the rubble. He moved like a shadow or beam of light, something that never made sound on it’s own and it made sense considering how he was no longer technically human. He was in the same class as her.

Sakura made her way down with little extra effort, but winced when she hopped down to the ground and jolted her wounds again. She covered the hiss of pain with a shallow chuckle that didn’t fool anyone.

“Come,” he urged, taking her hand again.

Sakura followed at his beckoning, knowing she wouldn’t be in any danger from this Tam Lin and suspecting whatever he was taking to her would be modest and just as run down as the rest of the castle.

She was wrong.

The interior reeked of magic and elegance of the elven kind. There were white birch trees with leaves of honey gold growing neatly out of the floor in rows down the great hall and banners hanging across the stone walls in shades of rich emerald and crimson.

There were tapestries clustered with the imagery of fairy traditions and rituals she recognized too well. The main tapestry behind the head of the table was stitched with the setting from a Fair Folk tradition between Day and Night courts called the Rabbit Games, where each side chose a champion to don the mask of a rabbit and outrun the enemies’ hounds. In the tapestry a woman in a long black dress and a black rabbit mask outran several elven knights with long ears and gold armor decorated with foxes and wolves.

The table of the main hall was dripping in finery and exotic dishes, unfolding upon the gold and silver plates out of the space between spaces, growing more bountiful the closer they approached.

Hashirama drew her to a bench between two white trunked trees and beckoned her to recline upon the pillows. Sakura just glared harder at him and tugged her hand back.

“I’m not at liberty to bare my wounds to you, sir. You are too bold.”

He had the decency to blush. “Please, I am a healer and mean nothing by it I only wish to help you.”

“I can help myself,” Sakura grumbled.

“Of…of course. Here.”

He gestured to the bench again and backed away. As he drew back the trees grew wider and thicker, extending new branches that obscured her alcove from his view.

Sakura grunted and sat down on the edge of the bench and pulled her shirt out of the waist band of her skirts, up over her head. Next, she untied the bow from her skirt around her waist. Looking each wound over Sakura sighed and turned the double headed rose over before tilting her head back and stuffing it into her mouth, thorns and all. She nearly gagged, but push it all the way down and let the magic in her burn the rose away before it could choke her out.

In response, each wound began to glow with a honey colored glow as the magic from the rose dissolved the curse that kept her from healing. The bites around her side were the worst but she could see those closing up nicely when she pulled the bandages back to watch skin knit skin.

By the end of the night she hoped it would all be gone.

“Are you decent, lady Sakura?” Hashirama called out to her a minute later.

Sakura huffed and pulled her cloths to her chest but didn’t slip back into them. “No. What do you want?”

One of the branches grew towards her, bearing a folded cloth draped like it was meant to be there. It stopped right in front of Sakura and she reached to remove it. The dress unfolded at her hands and pulled around her ankles on the floor when she held it up. It was simple and sturdy enough.

“What is this for?” Sakura called back through the trees.

“You need not done your bloody things. Please, dress and come eat so that you may not grow weary.”

His voice sounded happy when he answered, and Sakura suspected he was actually smiling even though she couldn’t tell or see his face in any way to know that for sure.

“Your kindness is too much. I should not stay here long.”

“Please, you are my guest!” he exclaimed. She heard him scuffle on the other side of the trees and then he spoke softer. “Please. I wish to dine with the first guest in many a year. Let me be a good host.”

Sakura looked down at the dress and felt the cotton between her hands. Sighing, she tugged it on and smoothed it out when she stood. There was a glittering belt still on the branches she looked over for hexes or magic and finding nothing. Sakura clipped it about her waist and was a bit dazzled by the brilliance of it. The stones were large and lovely, making it the prize of any noble lord or lady. Her sword dangled from it nicely.

“I think I am ready now, Hashirama.”

She heard his gasp and then stammering. “Oh-oh of course. Of course. Please.”

The trees pulled back and strand their branches while leaving the leaves to fall off and shed across the stone floor like paper gold. He was there when the branches pulled away, grinning happily at her.

“It’s been a while since I heard someone else call my name.”

“You’re alone here?” Sakura asked, looking for invisible servants. She couldn’t see anything that moved.

“Precisely so, but I am not uncared for. Come, sit at my table and break bread with me.” He held his hand out for her again and delighted when she took it.

Out of the corner of her eye Sakura caught movement and turned to see a stag at the corner of the room, walking in with a doe at his heels. A blue songbird fluttered down, chased off by a handful of others nesting in the rafters. Hashirama held out his hand and the bird perched on his fingers.

Not as alone as she first assumed.

“When was the last time you broke bread with other person you could talk to?” Sakura asked.

“I can talk to the birds and the trees. But another human you mean…oh, it’s been ages I dare say.”

Sakura eyed him critically, unable to not see the way his ears shaped themselves like leaves that poked through his long chestnut hair.

“Neither of us are truly human, though.”

The bird fluttered off his fingers and his smile lessened in vibrance. His face was still kind as it looked to her. “Maybe we are no longer what humans would recognize as their own, but what else could we call ourselves?”

Like Tam Lins, being a changeling meant you didn’t fit on either side of the fence between the good neighbors and the humans. You weren’t one or the other, you were caught in between with no real home.

The white handprint on her skin was a brand that drove her from village after village and town after town. The same people who begged for her help would chase her out the minute they had what they wanted. What had made her a rouge to the people had made him a hermit to his.

Sakura took his offered hand and sat alongside him on the bench at the head of the table. A squirrel with an enormously bushy tail ran up to her plate and then sat beside it, staring up at her expectedly. Nothing thinking twice about it, Sakura fed it from the fruits multiplying from her plate.

She waited for the questions to come but was a bit surprised when Hashirama started to tell her about all the different animals. Most of them had names but all of them loved him in their own way. None of them seemed afraid of him or even her when she sat next to them. That wasn’t…terribly unusual. People touched by the fair folk naturally were more trusted by animals, but that didn’t always mean loved.

It surprised her when the first question between them came from her. “How long have they loved you like this?”

“Ever since I came back to Carter Hall. It’s a funny story. Here is my birthright but one day I was riding through the forests on my horse and off I fell. I thought that was it, but I was swept up and the Queen of the Fox Court saved me and made me one of her knights in her realm for what felt like a mere summer. When she sent me back home it was overgrown and my family was gone. I’ve been here ever since, waiting for someone to summon me back and be useful.

The fork stayed hovering in front of her her mouth. “Mito?”

“Yes, the very one,” Hashirama exclaimed.

Sakura groaned and lowered her fork back down to the plate. “Of course she would. Do you remember what spooked your horse in the first place, casing it to buck you off?”

“Not in the least,” he chuckled in good nature.

“I bet you don’t,” Sakura mumbled under her breath, feeling a little sick in her heart at how little he cared about his fate. He probably didn’t even know about Mito’s title to hell.

“It’s not such a terrible fate. I’m fit as can be, I have many adorable friends, and there is no need or want that is not met under this roof. Watch!” he extended a single hand and inhaled. “I wish for a chest of gold.”

The table groaned as a chest settled in the middle, turning over and spilling gold across the floor. Sakura stood up suddenly but didn’t move towards or away from it.

“See? Anything I want will appear. Is there something you want? I can ask for it for you. Pearls or rubies?” He looked eagerly towards her, so excited to be able to show off for someone.

“What good are things like those if you are stuck here all alone?” Sakura huffed, settling back into her seat and closing her eyes. “No thank you. I don’t want anything I don’t need. Especially if it’s coming from a fair folk’s magic wells.”

“Truly? There is nothing I can get for you?” he asked, tone dropping alone with his expression.

Sakura waved his concerns away and forced herself to smile. “You are very kind, but no thank you. The food is delicious and more than enough to satisfy. I need nothing more.”

“Then can I offer you a room for the night. It is nearly twilight and the roads are unforgiving in the dark this far out. You will be safe under this roof my lady.”

“You know precious little of me, other than the fact that I’ve picked your only double headed rose despite your pleas. You think it will be safe to invite a person such as I into your home?”

“Of course,” he laughed. He gestured to his chest and grinned wide. “I may not look it, but I’ve been defending this place for nearly seven years now and never had a problem with anyone who came through. Plus, the animals always tell me what they think and they trust you the most, more than any other visitor, so I’ll trust you too.”

She wasn’t sure why she felt guilty when he smiled at her, because she wasn’t planning on doing anything to feel guilty about, but when she settled down for the night she figured it out. He said nearly seven years. Halloween was in a month. He was Mito’s teind to hell and she hadn’t said anything to him about it. But…there was no way he didn’t know by this point. Right?

‘Whatever, I have my own problems.’

“You’re staying for breakfast?” he asked with good cheer when he saw her on the bench in the early hours of light.

“Just for another couple of days. I’ll intrude upon you no longer than that. By then my wounds will not be enough to bother me on the road. Of course if you wish me gone sooner that’s fine too-“

“Oh no, no!” Hashirama was quick to dash in front of her and grab both her hands. “Of course not. Please, feel at home here and stay as long as you like. You have my permission to remain as long as your heart desires.”

“No, it’s really only going to be a couple of days.”

“Of course, as long as you wish it.”

“I’m serious,” Sakura countered. “Only a couple of days.”

A couple of days turned into a week. A week turned into a couple of weeks, and then the month was over and the wounds were healed but Sakura was still around, enjoying herself a little too much as she wrestled with the problem of what to do once halloween set.

Hashirama didn’t seem to take the threat very seriously, or if he did, he hid it well, and that annoyed her further. Whenever she tried to talk about it he would laugh and diver the conversation elsewhere. Even when she offered to help, he was overly cheerful about denying it. He insisted she didn’t owe him anything and when she told him it wasn’t about repaying a debt the conversation turned to water in her hands and no headway was made.

What made it worse was how he had started leaving her with instructions on how to take care of Carter Hall if she wanted to stay ‘after he went away,’ since the magic would still be making food and wine like it did for him. When it came to the likes and preferences of the animals Sakura didn’t think she could take it anymore.

“You’re not going to hell for her. Stop it, stop acting like you are,” Sakura hissed, backhanding the tray of berries out of his hand. They scattered across the floor and the squirrels raced for them. “Don’t treat me like this.”

“I-Sakura, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You never do, which is why you’re stuck in the situation you’re in now. It’s not fair and I’m not so terrible a person that I’ll just sit back and watch it all unfold. You know I could probably do something so why won’t you let me help you?”

“Oh Sakura. There’s nothing you could do. It’s a done thing, my lady.”

His smile was sad and soft as he reached to brush his knuckles across her cheek. She didn’t pull away anymore, but she still refused to look at him if he touched her so tenderly. She considered them friends, maybe even good friends, but she was still a changeling and he was still a Tam Lin.

“You don’t know what I can and can’t do.”

“It’s not worth it anymore.”

He looked as if the conversation was going to end there but he caught himself when he saw her eyes wet and leaking. A tear slipped past her lashes onto his finger and it froze him in his spot. Sakura closed her eyes to hide the rest and pretend they weren’t there.

“A white horse.”

Her eyes shot open. “What?”

Hashirama wasn’t smiling anymore. “Listen to what I tell you, for it is what I was told in a moment of mercy. At Miles Cross lovers and humans will see the fair folk’s procession on this stretch of road only, led by the fair queen. So first let past the horses black and then let past the brown. Quickly run to the white steed and pull the rider down For I'll ride on the white steed, the nearest to the town. Because I was an earthly knight, they give me that renown.”

Hashirama closed his eyes and inclined his head to hers.

“Oh, they will turn me in your arms to a newt or a snake but hold me tight and fear not. They will turn me in your arms into a lion bold but hold me tight and fear not, they will turn me in your arms into a naked knight. Then and only then cloak me in your mantle and keep me out of sight.”

He opened his eyes and there were tears making his own glassy as she stared into hers. “But that’s not the end of it, because if you do this she will come for you, and she will make you recount a defense. I know not any justification a mortal or changeling could grant to sever the bond of a Tam Lin from his turner. Her magic has fed and saved me for seven years. What could be powerful enough to break that bond? Please, do not try this, Sakura. You will not avail.”

He leaned in to kiss the crown of her head, soft like one of his smiles for her. She felt him slip a ring on her finger made from gold as he drew away. When she opened her eyes to look he was gone, and for the rest of the two days before the Hallow’s Tide, Hashirama hid himself from her.

She dressed in a long black dress that wouldn’t betray her in the night and a long green mantle pinned up high with a hood that hung low over her face. Her sword was safe in the scabbard around her waist, but as she found the cross at Miles road she unbuckled it from her belt and laid it out on the grass beside her. She was low in the bushes, watching the center of the crossroads where the fair folk would walk. Anyone not touched by the good neighbors or without hag stones would have to wait until they were in the cross of the roads to see them, where their magic couldn’t hide them from mortal eyes, but Sakura didn’t need to wait for that.

The mists rolled in right on time and the air chilled with the presence of spirits but she stayed in the bushes and didn’t move. Something cold trailed along her face and she didn’t move. Something reached for her ankle but she didn’t move. Something whispered in her ear and then shouted at her, but she didn’t move.

Far off the fox fire lit and the first faces started to appear. A the front were the fair knights in glittering armor, guarding a Queen most fair with a veil of red. Anyone who saw her face would be struck dead by the sight of it.

Sakura held her breath and kept her eyes fixed on the rest of the procession. Passed the knights on horses of red, black, and then finally brown. At the very end of the line was a single white horse, somewhat separated from the others. Atop its back sat Hashirama in his elven robes and armor, hair intricately braided half up and woven with leaves. His face was painted with the markings of the teind to hell.

Sakura left her sword behind and waited till the last moment and then sprang upon him at the crossroads, reaching with all her strength to tear him down from his steed onto the earth.

Hashirama cried out and twisted into something long and slithering, trying to get away, but Sakura held him tighter, even as he grew arms like a newt and tried to wriggle away. Sakura whispered hexes to herself for strength as he bulged and became a roaring lion with teeth and claws that couldn’t reach her as long as she held him tight. She pulled him closer and he roared louder before turning into a smaller cat that nearly turned to bite at Sakura’s shoulder. She felt the teeth and hissed at the touch but there was no pain. Hashirama bulged in her hands and then bled white, shrinking and shedding until he was a pale, naked knight in her arms.

With one good arm Sakura pulled her mantle over his form and pressed herself on top of him, hiding him from the rest of the world in her dark fabrics. He was burning flesh under her and she knew if she let him go or if the world saw him he would turn into a burning coal that could consume her.

“Hold there, young maid. Who are you the challenge the teind of the Faery Queen?” a voice called out to her.

“I am the one who challenges it!” Sakura shouted back, keeping her head down and body prone atop Hashirama who still burned beneath her. “This knight is mine. He fell from his horse and I caught him. His life is mine.”

“He has been owned before from such the same fate. What do you say to challenge this?”

Sakura licked her lips and hoped she wasn’t wrong. “I have more right to him than tee, for this man is my love and the may yet be the husband of my hand.”

She held out the hand with the gold ring he had gifted to her two days ago, as a token of his affections but with no true ulterior intention. It was a brilliant thing without stones, etched and crafted into the shape of a many branched tree that hugged her finger.

Below her, Hashirama instantly stopped burning and turned cold beneath her. The horses around her stomped and cried out. Sakura looked up finally and saw the red haired queen with the cloth over her face.

“You,” she hissed, looking down at Sakura. “You are touched by another. From which court does this aggression stem?”

“No court, fair Queen. I am that which has been cast out. By mother was of The Milk and Moon court before now.”

“Kaguya, I should have known.” Mito growled angrily, pulling her horse back. “I’ll curse you in another life for this girl!”

“Please, let he and I be and challenge us no more,” Sakura implored, keeping her head down.

The hooves of her horse stopped in front of Sakura but she didn’t look up, only held her breath and kept Hashirama hidden beneath her.

“Oh, had I known, Tam Lin, " she said, "what this knight I did see, I have looked him in the eyes and turned him to a tree.”

In a wheel of wind the procession was gone and they were alone. When Sakura looked down Hashirama was asleep and nearly human again, but like anything touched by magic, he would never truly be human again.

Sakura carried him back to Carter Hall and was surprised when the bed she wished for appeared out of magic. She tucked Hashirama in and sighed deep.

“What have I done?” she whispered to the dark of the room. She hadn’t meant to become so involved, but here she was, tied by some odd magic to not only one, but two different men.

Sakura rubbed her face with her hands, filled her pack with food, checked her sword, and bid the animals farewell. The road was calling to her again, and she knew she couldn’t stay much longer if she wanted to stay free and keep ahead of the Milk Court’s hunters and whatever curse the Queen of the Fox Court had in mind for her.

Hashirama awoke and felt light in his chest and a new wholeness he hadn’t felt in years. No, this was new compared to that true human feeling. Yes he was broken free from the queen and her courts, but the magic hadn’t released him entirely.

Not that he needed it to.

Hashirama smiled wide and pushed back the covers and jumped from his bed screaming her name. He ran through the halls, and then into he gardens where she loved to watch the flowers. She was neither place, but when he turned to ask the birds they say she wasn’t in any of the other places within Carter Hall.

Fear made him human made heart race. “What do you mean, then where is she? Did the queen take her away? Where is my wife to be?”

The birds sang to him and only more fear came into his heart as the birds recounted the story from the night she saved him from hell. He remembered the claim she made, how he was her love and husband to be. He even remembered the curse the queen spoke upon Sakura’s head.

“She’s been driven away in fear.”

He looked to the gate and felt his resolve harden. There was nothing holding him back anymore, nothing binding him to Carter Hall with invisible chains. He could leave as he pleased, and if Sakura was out there running, it was his turn to find her and save her.

#Lindworm #Tam Lin #Sakura #Hashirama #HashiSaku #Madasaku #what have I done #happy halloween #enjoy #my writing #my fic #my fiction

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sad-trash-writing · 6 years

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Bite Me, Ch. 9

AO3 Link

Waking up naked in a field of wildflowers sounded like the start of a bad romance novel, but here Daisy was. She groaned and rolled over to block the rising sun from her eyes, only to have a stick jab her in the ribs. It would probably be best to go find her clothes.

She dragged herself off the ground, dusted some of the dirt off her skin and trudged off in the general direction of where the pack left their stuff last night. She wasn’t too worried about being naked, since the rest of the pack seemed to have passed out elsewhere. Walking through the woods, with her squishy human feet getting stabbed on every sharp rock and twig, was significantly more relevant.

Eventually, a rustle in the brush drew Daisy’s attention and she saw Joey shuffling through the trees. He nodded at her and strategically directed his eyes as far away from Daisy as he could manage.

“Morning, Daisy,” he muttered.

Daisy murmured a similar greeting back and wrapped her arms around herself. Thankfully, they quickly happened upon their piles of clothes, where Elena and Lincoln were waiting. Daisy hurriedly shook out her clothes and pulled them on and then followed the pack back out towards campus.

“So, how was your first run with the pack?” Lincoln asked.

“It was good,” Daisy replied. “It felt…right.”

Lincoln smiled. “I’m glad. That’s usually the impression new werewolves get once they find their pack, but everyone adjusts differently. Elena and I were talking about coming out tomorrow night, too, if you’d like to join.”

Daisy originally would have thought she would never want to go out more than absolutely necessary. It wasn’t exactly comfortable to shift, but her wolf-brain seemed to be wagging its tail saying, Yes! Go!

“That sounds fun.”

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

The next night was just like the first, except they met at the fence at sundown. Joey elected to stay home this time to do some classwork, so the trio headed into the woods without him.

Everything else was the same. The clearing, the teasing, the waiting, the shifting. It took a little longer to shift tonight, and took some concentration on Daisy’s part, but it felt less aggressive than full moon nights.

Lincoln had told Daisy that the surrounding nights of the full moon tended to be less energetic than the full moon itself and the pack normally split up until morning. He offered to stay with Daisy to make her more comfortable, but Daisy wanted to explore a bit on her own.

Once they shifted, Elena bounded off and Lincoln trotted in a different direction, leaving Daisy alone. She took her time stretching her muscles and then picked a random direction to wander.

Lincoln was right. Daisy felt way more relaxed in wolf form tonight. Wolf-brain was still curiously prodding her to go investigate some scents, but Daisy didn’t feel like she was being dragged on autopilot to do so. Still, she had the whole night to explore, so she might as well.

She chased a few squirrels, accidentally disturbed a badger den, and stumbled into a fairy circle.

After a few hours of wandering through the woods, she smelled something.

It was that scent again. The one from last night with a hint of familiarity and danger to it. She didn’t have the pack to stay with tonight, so Daisy loped off to find the source.

As the scent got stronger, Daisy slowed. She didn’t know what she would be stumbling into, so she had to be cautious. She reached a clearing in the trees, but stayed hidden in the outskirts of it.

The near-full moon illuminated the wildflowers in the clearing and, with Daisy’s enhanced vision, it nearly looked like daylight. Then, she saw the source of the scent.

It was Jemma. She was sitting with her back to a tree on the edge of the clearing and had a book in her lap. Next to her was a backpack with other books spilling out of it.

Daisy’s human brain took over and she bounded into the clearing to say hello to Jemma.

Jemma’s eyes shot up from her book at the noise and, a moment later, she was on her feet. Her eyes were wide and she stood in a defensive posture with one hand behind her back.

Daisy cocked her head. Why did she looked scared?

Oh yeah, because you just look like a wolf, stupid.

Wolf-brain snapped her gaze to the object in Jemma’s hand hidden behind her back. She saw a glint of silver and the shape of a knife. Daisy’s hair stood on end and wolf-brain started pushing her to leave.

Bad. Go. Dangerous.

Daisy saw Jemma’s eyes flick to the sky and bright moon above and cursed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just leaving,” Jemma explained, slowly backing towards her bag.

Daisy frowned. Even wolf-brain was saying, wait, don’t leave!

Daisy flopped on the ground and huffed. Jemma paused and looked confused.

Daisy laid her head on her paws and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

Jemma took a few steps forward, which human-brain Daisy thought was a good sign. Wolf-brain, however, took over and she jumped to her feet and skittered back a few paces with her teeth bared.

Jemma froze in place.

Dude, what the hell?

Knife! Bad.

Daisy’s eyes shot to the knife the same time Jemma’s did. Jemma muttered an apology and tossed the knife in the direction of her bag. Wolf-brain let Daisy relax and nudge forward slowly.

Jemma narrowed her eyes, but crouched down to Daisy’s eye level. “Daisy?” she asked cautiously.

Daisy sat back on her haunches and nodded, while her face broke into a toothy grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Jemma sighed and plopped onto the ground. Daisy trotted up and sat directly in front of her.

“What are you doing out tonight?” Jemma asked, “It’s not a full moon.”

Daisy shrugged. It was hard to convey human emotions in wolf-form. She put a paw on Jemma’s lap and then looked between the full moon and Jemma.

Hopefully, they knew each other well enough that Jemma would understand Daisy’s attempts at communication.

“What am I doing in the woods on a full moon?” Jemma translated. Daisy huffed and nodded. “Since Bobbi’s been having a hard time making the potion for me, I’ve been stuck inside a lot more during the day. Occasionally, I come out here to catch up on work overnight. I just wasn’t paying attention to the moon when I came out tonight.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes. Of course the nerd came out to the woods to work, rather than do anything fun.

A distant howl pulled both their attention. It was Lincoln. He was just checking in wondering where everyone was (after the first shift, Daisy was able to make sense of the subtleties of wolf interaction, especially howls). Daisy raised her nose in a quick response, and heard Elena do the same from another direction, before turning her attention back to Jemma.

“If you need to reconnect with the pack, you can go. We’ll catch up tomorrow,” Jemma assured.

Daisy shrugged again. Surprisingly, wolf-brain wasn’t even telling her to run. She laid down in front of Jemma and gazed at her.

Jemma smiled and went to retrieve her book. Once she settled down crossed-legged in the middle of the clearing, Daisy got up and circled around her back and laid her head on Jemma’s lap.

Theoretically, Daisy could still read in wolf-form, it was just harder to comprehend the words. Whatever Jemma was working on, Daisy had no hopes to understand. She opted to just look at the pictures, even though they were just as abstract.

Occasionally, Jemma would muse something she read out loud, but none of it meant anything to Daisy. Still, she sat and listened, enjoying the calm of being nestled next to Jemma. Even the edge of danger, which Daisy guessed probably stemmed from the vampire part of her scent, faded after awhile.

The moon set on the horizon, but Daisy was too comfortable to bother exploring anymore and fell asleep with her head still perched on Jemma’s lap.

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

“Daisy. Daisy, wake up,” Jemma’s whispered voice dragged Daisy from sleep, but Daisy was less grumpy about it than she normally would have been. She wasn’t nearly as exhausted as she was after her full moon runs so far.

She cracked her eyes open. The sun was just started to poke through the bases of the trees, staining the sky above with light purples and streaks of yellow. She would have loved to stay and watched the rest of the sunrise, but then she realized she was still on Jemma’s lap.

“Shit!” she hissed. She jerked upright. “You need to get inside!”

Jemma shrugged and stared at the sky. “Yes, that’s why I was waking you up. It’s not urgent at the moment, but we’ll probably need to find your…clothes.”

Daisy realized then that she was naked again. In front of Jemma. This was the most inconvenient part of shifting, not to mention chilly.

Daisy wrapped her arms around her chest. She belatedly realized that Jemma’s cardigan was bunched up on the ground beside Daisy. Jemma had probably draped it over Daisy whenever she shifted back. Daisy swiped it and tried to cover herself as best as possible. Jemma kept her eyes averted, but Daisy swore she saw her eyes drifting towards her a few times.

Daisy muttered out the vague direction of where she had stashed her stuff and waited for Jemma to pack up her backpack before setting off.

“Do you normally stay until sunrise?” Daisy asked.

“No, usually only a few hours,” Jemma replied.

“You could have left me, you know.”

Jemma smiled. “Yes, but you just looked so comfortable.”

Daisy felt a flush creeping up her face.

They reached the tree where Daisy’s bag was hanging. Jemma turned the opposite direction while Daisy tugged on her sweats and downed the bottle of water. Then, they headed back towards campus to get Jemma inside before the sun fully rose.

“So, what was the deal with the knife last night?” Daisy finally asked.

Jemma blanched. “You remember that, then?”

“Yeah. Hard to forget your friend pulling a knife on you,” Daisy teased.

“In my defense, I didn’t know it was you,” Jemma said, “It’s just a precaution. I may be stronger than the average human, but I’m not invulnerable to werewolf teeth. In the past, most werewolves I’ve met haven’t exactly been as…civilized as the pack here seems to be.”

“What’s it made out of?” Daisy asked, remembering her violent reaction to it.

Jemma looked sheepish. “Pure silver. It’s lethal to werewolves if it gets in their blood stream.”

Daisy blinked. Well, that would have been good information to know. Also good to know would have been that her friend carried around a weapon that could kill members of her species.

They were silent for the rest of the walk. The sun was already streaming over the ground leading up to the dorm building. Jemma winced, but otherwise didn’t seem too discomforted by the sun. Still, Daisy kept an eye on her in case she had a sudden bad reaction.

“Why do you think Bobbi hasn’t been able to make the potion for you?” Daisy asked.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with the increased amount of Watchdogs around campus,” Jemma explained, “The Dean thinks they’re keeping tabs on and stealing shipments of strange materials to the university as proof that there are supernatural students. Orders of lots of important things have been interrupted recently.” A dark look crossed her face briefly.

They reached the front door and Jemma darted inside. She sighed in relief once the doors blocked the remaining sun. Daisy followed Jemma to the elevator.

She glanced at Jemma’s arms while they waited. Her normally pale skin was dusted lightly pink, like she had spent hours in the sun, rather than minutes.

They stepped into the elevator and Daisy prodded her floor number and then Jemma’s. As the door opened to deposit her on her floor, she turned to Jemma.

“So, same place next month?” Daisy asked with a teasing smirk.

“Agreed,” Jemma smiled. “In the mean time, lunch tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

#skimmons #bioquake #aosficnet2 #bite me fic #werewolf au #vampire au

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averydecker1995 · 4 years

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Cat Pee Mattress Sublime Tricks

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To teach your cat is missing and the most difficult to remove.That may sound redundant or obvious if you can get to have your cat some catnip is enough to start mild and work really well.It is placed under the bedroom months ago, but today you forgot to shut it so your cat starts showing two or three days, then it is too late.Bring it to make sure they will learn to avoid the formation of hairballs.It could be a rewarding relationship with his litter when he can easily select the best solution is rubbing on everything and everyone that they get used to using the litter box that suits both your needs and desires in cat pet training session.

You may have bred for a while and then gradually move it through the screen.Although none of the bureau and your home.Scratching provides a small stool that you don't tape them closed, then throw the bags away.Cat's remains have been published in veterinary journals where it can become more and more withdrawn.The female cat hung out in the room where these smells are apparent.

Try placing realistic looking toy snakes in your bed nightly, your bed carries your natural odor, which your cat fit in with a wonderful creature to love, with an anesthetizing swab, or spraying with a ball that slots into the perfect price.Having a cat to the second morning after their surgery, all had eaten at least once a feral cat colonies are blossoming in neighborhoods everywhere and in the house.Try massaging between the kitty litter pan, one that is marking randomly on walls, doors, door frames, window frames, outside door thresholds, entrance ways, above and discard the excess liquid with a cat or dog, has come quite a challenge.Then I spent time with them, let kittens know how to begin.Avoid resolutions as this can cause quite a bit more private and quiet.

Even the healthiest cats suffer from asthma and once we found our cat is spraying inside the litter box with warm water and pour it into a defensive posture low against the ground, ready to jump and to be my cat.- Out of doors,although the cat bad breath or loose teeth persist despite this attention, see a cat repellent product tests on its paws.Have there been any divorces over the floor below is linoleum or another in their environment.Of course, you might try making a mess within or outside animal?Which means she'll do the things that they land on.

Even though it is not using proper cleaning products.This is where cat owners are always looking for cheap way out that's one option.They get along great with other cats, so it is stressing your cat and all cat owners are accustomed to being beaten up, but not for you.Large numbers are best suited for your cat's skin.Flea and tick treatment as a dip in the hair ball usually becomes a source of the job.

Cat Pee That Doesnt Smell

It is very serious condition and free from the outside so that perhaps the bottom of the windows are great to give her a treat, and can then be perform on you while getting rid of the problem being ongoing for you to know the feeling.If it is wise not to many reasons being allergies or a neighbor can help you to make a great way for cats with physical punishment, you'll end up in the house, you need to fully understand your cat's messes is never a fun and safe way of getting your cat isn't using its litter box.Female cats should be done to avoid the litter tray for the incision.When I asked Silver why he only bites me and hundreds of thousands of cats helps to find them.The major effort on your own, and nobody is coming from.

When they use often and not make the rash worsen.Not being funny, but keeping track of who's the boss.When we walk in the corn fields of a cat frequent urination could be grown at homes as pets.- Anxiousness, tension and additional behavioral troubles.Keeping your cat in any unusual lumps, abscesses, scratches or parasites such as bald spots or inflammations of the nails grow out and throw away.

#Cat Pee Mattress Sublime Tricks #1 Year Old Cat Pees Everywhere

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holbyconfessional · 6 years

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Holby City S19 E54-E60

As with the Casualty catch up - since this is SO historical now, I’m going to put the whole lot under a cut, save dashboards!!! Episodes covered are:

S19 E54 - Thicker Than Water

S19 E55 - Things Left Unsaid

S19 E56 - Know Yourself, Know Your Enemy

S19 E57 - Kingdom Come

S19 E58 - It Has To Be Now

S19 E59 - Hungry Heart

S19 E60 - Hiding Places

Holby City S19 E54 - Thicker Than Water

So we have more Guiseppe this week. Yay. Not. A Small bowel volvulus couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Sorry, Raf.

More nefarious Fredrick, shipping in a Swedish patient, then pretending he didn't know her so he could fake diagnose her Pancreatic Pseudocyst and wow everyone with his swift and decisive diagnosis skills. Not to mention try and make another play to push a clinical trial for his drug. So glad that Hanssen twigged and called him out on it. Odious individual.

Ollie and Matteo's competition to be the most interesting was dull, although it did afford Jac a wonderful opportunity to show off her feistiness with her epic line (about Ollie's dullness) 'I'm as shocked as you are!'

In other and most heartbreaking news, Lofty transferred to AAU, and worst of all, Raf proposed to Essie. I mentally threw things at my TV.

Holby City S19 E55 - Things Left Unsaid

Well, Morven was rather uncharacteristically unkind to Lofty, wasn't she?! I mean, he may be one of the dullest humans in existence, and aggravatingly cheerful and fair, but still! Of course, he was going to make a brilliant diagnosis with the hypochondriac patient, thereby showing Morven his worth. Actually, I'm pretty glad it was something minor, and Morven still got to 'win' too, about the woman being a bit of a time waster. It may not have avoided the cliche, but it did slightly mitigate it!

Evil Fredrick strikes again with his tenuous grasp on truthfulness and medical ethics, by covering up a psychological issue with a father/son transplant. HOW is Nina the Snake letting these things happen, how is he getting away with it, with the barest of slapped wrists? Better not be because of his father, because I'm pretty sure said father wouldn't be putting up with such shenanigans!

So, Nina the Snake is pregnant, and trying to talk to a seemingly uninterested Matteo. I was pretty uninterested too.

And finally, it's Roxanna's first day. Somewhat less angst between her and Ollie than expected. There has been some speculation that she's an early insert, with an ultimate potential goal of being a love interest for Serena somewhen upon her return. I'm saying now, please god don't let this be true. It's almost impossible now, watching some of the insane pairings they've got going on, or building up. But that? I just couldn't.

Holby City S19 E56 - Know Yourself, Know Your Enemy

AKA the day of Ric's inquest at the Coroners Court, into the death of Elaine Warren - where, surprise surprise, it's found that there's a case to answer. As with any long running show, some story lines are more gripping than others. I have to say, for the most part, I'm finding this more of a slog than a thrill, but I will say that I really would like to know what happened with the anti-coagulants! Was it Ric's error? Did Donna screw up? Dear lord, I hope it's the latter. Really not a Donna fan.

So, Amira's back on Darwin. Why? Is she considered an interesting character? I suspect it's more in an attempt to expose some hole in Jac's psyche, since we're clearly being shown that she's struggling with something - hopefully setting us up for a lovely, meaty storyline, and not just the impending romance with Fletch (vomit).

Dom and Fredrick. I find it interesting and mildly alarming how jealous Fredrick is of Dom. Of course, he wants to be the most important in his fathers eyes, and he's already been shown to be extremely ruthless and manipulative in order to try and get his own way and climb to the top. So it's ironic that his behaviour traits and attempts at professional shortcuts should be exactly what set him back in his incredibly rational and fair father's eyes, against Dom's honesty and genuine attempts to be the best he can be, and the best for his patients. I enjoyed his detective work this episode, diagnosing the Wegener's Granulomatosis (GPA), and I liked his decision to pull it as the case study for his Junior Doctors Award project, in favour of something far more prosaic. To my mind, it's a nice demonstration of exactly how much Dom has grown as a person and a doctor, and was the perfect offset for Fredrick's showboating.

Holby City S19 E57 - Kingdom Come

Highly stressful, edge of your seat stuff tonight. Will Holby be closed, in favour of St Francis? Will all our beloved characters lose their jobs? Maybe not quite as stressful as the producers would like, as I think we can all pretty much assume that somehow, Holby will endure. But, the episode did afford some good moments for Hanssen - most noteably 1) the opening scene on the roof, 2) a great camera shot of Hanssen standing on Keller as the camera panned along the ward toward him, and 3) Hanssen sitting in his office, with his glasses off. (I'm not sure why the last one pleases me so, but it does, so there you go!).

I'm always very pro Hanssen heavy storylines, I think he's an exceptional character. With this one, I was also pretty delighted that in some part, it was the underrated Sacha who saved the day, with his innovative idea of implementing SAINT (post-surgical accelerated independence using novel technology). Loved the final scene with Hanssen acknowledging Sacha's importance to him and the hospital, over a drink.

Jeremy Warren is back, wanting his mothers notes from Donna. HOW is Donna so stupid as to keep entertaining him? Surely she realises at this stage that she's putting herself, the hospital, the case itself in danger by continuing to keep in contact with him?!

Also the return of one of my favourite patients, Mr James. He has the best lines, and excellent delivery. His speech about Matteo's hair was just classic, I bet he's a dream to write for.

Other moments included Ollie's wedding ring, lots of posturing by evil Fredrick, but special acting credit MUST go to Matteo's red trainers, which stole every scene they were in!

Holby City S19 E58 - It Has To Be Now

Oh, what fun. We were forced to rewatch Raf's proposal to Essie in the pre credits. Ouch. Followed by a post credit dramatic running scene which is supposed to remain us we love Ollie (although I'm sorry to say, black hoodie aside, he definitely lost cool points IMO). Which was then supposed to help us remember that we hate Roxanna, because not only did she kill Ollie's wife, but she's also trying to steal his project funding. Oh, but whoops. Her project is on Alzheimers, and hey, her super talented surgeon husband has Alzheimers, so all of a sudden, she's not The Bad Guy, and we (and Ollie) want her to get the funding, because she and her husband deserve it...

And here's where I stop being sarcastic and flippant, because as hackneyed as the storyline is, I don't consider dementia of any form to be a laughing matter, having personally seen what it can do to a loved one. And I can begin in the smallest way to imagine the pain of what she and her husband must be feeling. But, it doesn't change the fact that for me, this entire story was so heavily signposted that it kind of lost impact.

Oh, holy shitbags. Not only did Raf and Essie get engaged, but now they blinking well got married. On the one hand, I thank goodness that it was off screen and I didn't have to watch it, but on the other, EW! Couldn't they have had their 2 episodes of happiness, then suffered a monumental breakup, or the death of a close family member which would leave one of them angry, depressed, drinking too much and lashing out at colleagues, before buggering off to a vineyard in France, whilst the other went to do humanitarian work with the army? Oh, whoops, wrong pairing... But poor, poor Sacha.

Ooh, Morven and her mother. Not a shining example of maternal glory to my mind. Personally, I'm thinking Morven is SO much better off without her.

Holby City S19 E59 - Hungry Heart

Ooh, lashings of evil Fredrick. Undermining Dom to Henrik, Sacha to the pathologically honest patient's girlfriend, then finally 'accidentally' telling Matteo about Nina the Snake's pregnancy. Such an unbelievably unlikeable character. There was a little celebration in my soul when Henrik told him that there was a recruitment freeze, which would prevent him from applying for a registrar's post. Karma?! So, Hanssen thinks Fredrick should go back to Sweden (well, don't we all? Except perhaps his poor wife, who I, for one, seem to have horridly misunderstood!)

So, we got one teeny tiny scene where Lofty visited Dom, and gave him a super squishy hug of congratulations. Gotta keep the memory of that not-quite relationship lurking somewhere in the viewers mind, so it's ripe for revisiting. Right?

Lots of Ric drama. I have to say, I loved Morven's supportiveness, inviting him for coffee. Such a nice change from Donna's hounding. Ric may have been a mentor and friend to her, but last I checked, that doesn't automatically mean she has the right to invade every corner of his life, and to know every move he makes. I felt really angry when she was hounding him about where he was when Jeremy's mother died. She wants to know why he won't tell her? Well, perhaps it's because it's none of her ****ing business!!!

COTWs, WAG with appendicitis, and the slightly more interesting kid with a funky neck, who passed out every time he looked to the side too quickly.

Holby City S19 E60 - Hiding Places

I'm afraid I found this episode rather dull. More of the Ric/Donna/Jeremy debacle, and I find myself no clearer as to why Donna persists in hanging around with Jeremy in the face of his allegations. Ric is supposedly her friend. I get that she doesn't know what actually happened, so she doesn't know for sure that he is completely innocent, and I get that she feels some level of empathy toward Jeremy for his loss - BUT, Ric is supposed to be her friend, and she truly believes he is an excellent doctor and surgeon, and she also believes in human error, so why is she not supporting Ric more? (I'd just like to qualify at this point that I don't mean by lying for him). And even more to the point, surely her continuing interaction with Jeremy is actually detrimental to the court case? At least Jac stood up for Ric, even if it was in an inappropriate way. And ooh, look, seems like Jeremy is going to try and squeeze a second court case out of it!

On the one hand, I believe in justice. But on the other, I think this litiginous society in which we live is insane.

So, Fredrick is indeed gone. But is it for good? (Please be yes, please be yes....)

Nina and Matteo and the baby. I shall sum up my thoughts into a single word. YAWN.

So, this episode had a patient naming dogs after staff based on their personality traits. Oh, how I chortled and slapped my thigh.

Mildly interesting thread - the unravelling of Jac. Awesome, awesome character.

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