Weirdly, I think my number 1 blorbo woman is Amy Sosa from Superstore. She's just got it all for me. I love her so, so much. I don't have a ton of desire to write fic for her (except sometimes porn), but rest assured I think about her regularly. No one's doing it like her.

Ok, so.. The not yet finished summary of Immortal Lost. I'll probably add details or change things here and there. Summaries exist because I will most certainly forget things. Anyway.

Feel free to drop ideas to fill the gaps ~ fill free to grab them away from all the angst I'm going to dump on them. (or maybe no. Let them suffer together). Feel free to drop ideas to make it more angsty and make this mouse happy~~

Will I find a sense in this idea by the end of the week?

Beginning - past - set one or two generations after yin metal

- young nie mingjue, with his family, one younger brother, two older sisters. His father have the ancestral tomb made for the sabers after they had to fight the angry spirits. He dies against one of the spirits and his saber is the first to be laid officially in the tomb. Out of everyone he develops a closer bond with his saber when, during a battle, he hides in a cave in the mountain, wounded, and there he meets what he first believe was a goddess. (but in truth it was just baxia, chilling away from the demon's realm because it was too noisy.)

- immortality is gained through cultivation. He learned to control the saber spirit, who becomes baxia in the end, qi deviations still occurs, but when they happen he hides in the cave, Baxia guides him through control, that's the only place where she can take a physical form, though not for long.

- the cave was one of the places where the divide between dimension is thinner, hiding in the cave, both the first time and after, he absorbed the energy of the place, both from the demon's realm and from the heavens. It's in a mountain close to the unclean realm, something that will later pass on the legend as a celestial mountain.

- after many years, after his brother and sisters died, he leaves Qinghe in the hands of a nephew and travels the world until his name becomes somehow a legend (he uses an alias, different names and such, he's tired.), the one nie who achieved immortality. The one who ascended to godhood. People around Qinghe starts to pray to him for protection, especially in battle for protection. After travelling long and far he always returns to the cave only to find that someone not only managed to find it but built a small shrine even. He sets a spell on it, so that it's way harder to find the actual place but still allows people to reach the shrine and pray, he won't take it from his people, but won't let them disrupt his peace either.

- from time to time, over the next years, he finds ways and strategies to return to the unclean realm when the Nie sect is most in need, looking younger or sometimes even different (as a God he can change his look, though he's quite fond of his original one.) to help them or even lead them again for a while, if needed. (only the elders are aware of who he really is, at least during the first times, later he will keep it secret and roll with nie zhenxiang's idea, in present years.) he's not sure he qualifies as a good God for them, there are others far more benevolent than someone wielding a saber with a demon spirit inside, but it's Qinghe that decided for him.

Past, in between.

- it's during one of these times, while acting as sect leader because the actual one is a 5yo child, that he meets the future chief cultivator wen ruohan. He looks young at the time, passing as an older cousin for the actual leader and taking control because of his young age, participating in a competition where he defeats wen ruohan eldest brother and is later introduced as sect leader. (poor baby ruohan was so enchanted that he managed to trip right against him and feel embarrassed for years for that being their official first meeting.)

- [I don't know exactly how things happens in between halp] wen ruohan, being the youngest is less pressured at fighting or ruling position and he's more of a scholar, asking sect leader Nie (of who he doesn't know the actual name) to teach him everything he knows, spacing from history, military strategies, fighting styles. Everything. Sometimes sect leader Nie disappear for weeks and months, for battles, but never allows wen ruohan to follow.

- a battle happens, years after the first meeting, wen ruohan is supposed to fight with his older brother and ask if sect leader Nie would help them. But Qinghe too needs protection. So they part ways until young ruohan realizes that theory fighting is different from actual one, a real battle is gruesome and hard and dangerous, in ways he wouldn't imagine.

- he wakes up after being wounded away from the battlefield, in a shrine in the mountains, covered in silver furs to protect him from the cold. There's a man in the shrine, with frost on his hair and robes and still not shivering one bit. And oh no! It's sect leader Nie! Right when he was starting to believe his crush couldn't get any worse!

- quick think, ruohan. Quick think. Make him think you're dead! Okay, no, I said quick, not stupid. Unconscious. Still unconscious. Oh fuck. Was he always so... SO? Ruohan no! Okay, maybe a little peaking --- oh, fuck me! Well, he probably wouldn't --- ugh! Ruohan shut up!

- anyway, that is the moment Wen Ruohan realizes (his crush definitely won't disappear) nie mingjue is in fact not human and decides to keep the secret for himself if he trains him more. Of course nie mingjue was already training h, and doesn't take his request as a threat, knowing that wen ruohan won't simply go and tell the world, and anyway, who would really believe him?

- so wen ruohan learns and grow, following nie mingjue (who still hasn't told him the name a d that's getting quite annoying, right?) as a shadow, growing closer and closer to him, falling more and more in love until he can't be rejected anymore because he throws himself on mingjue. Things don't exactly change after, much to ruohan's disappointment, but he starts to notice the little gestures from mingjue that somehow escaped his attention.

- [something in between probably, I don't know... More angst? Do we want more angst? A bit of Immortal angst?] until a bigger battle, something that unites the main Sects again against a common enemy. In the end it seems like wen ruohan is killed, dying while nie mingjue is trying to get him out of the battlefield and somewhere safe. He tells him his name then, his real name, probably regretting not doing it sooner. And then, then control snaps. He let baxia's howls reach the surface and doesn't try to hold her back, merging witb the saber spirit.

- the enemy is defeated, it stood little chance against a very angry immortal with a demon spirit howling in his mind. But he can't subdue her again, he doesn't want to. For years and years he had been good, righteous and kind, he deserves to let anger out, but when it does it explodes. So the sects unites again to stop him, they kill him, or so they think, and leave. Many soldiers and generals are lost against his power, included the wen sect leader.

- since wen ruohan wasn't actually dead, once he recovers he takes the role of leader, role he never wanted, he refuses to believe mingjue really did that, his mingjue. He gets angry at whoever calls him a demon, he let slip that a God such as him cannot be a demon. And he tries to reach for the shrine, only to find it empty, the statue that once was there gone, with only dust and ashes, the altar broken on half. He makes a new one, and light an incense stick and prays, but no one appears and after a while he stops going there too. (he doesn't see people beginning to return to the shrine though, with offerings and prayers.)

Present times

- meeting nie zhenxiang had been an accident, or perhaps fate decided it was time for him to return to the mortal realm. Nie zhenxiang is a capable man and leader, smart to know who he really is, a direct descendant from MingJue's original family, and a curious one. He claims to have had a thing with yue huangshui, and it's true, they use that thing to make people believe mingjue is his son and justify his absence until then. He doesn't use his real name but goes as Nia xiá (or something combined. Still o want to keep the character for afterglow), it was both part of the name his brother had and the name he used with wen ruohan, a call back to the sun symbol of the wen sect. (his regrets at not being able to protect him are what caused him to stay away from the mortal realm and the shrine at first.)

- he fits in the new family really fast and well, huaisang never question if he's really his brother or not, he looks at him once and declare he's his dage. Soon disciples of Qinghe and the other sects stop questioning where he comes from and all and just accept nie xiá as the new heir.

- in between something else happened. Wen ruohan, keeping his role as sect leader and, to popular knowledge, immortal (not yet, he once would say, quite shily, but that's his goal.) and chief cultivator, well respected by everyone, got his hands on yin metal. At first it wasn't for power. He never believe mingjue to be dead and even if he stopped going to the shrine he still searched for him. The yin metal promised, in a seductive voice, to help him find the one he desperately searched for, and he believed him. He didn't change right away, but the yin metal is malicious and twisted promises into what it wants. To be whole again, to rule over them. And wen ruohan slowly gets twisted into the one they all want to fight. (he has two sons, his wife dying giving birth to wen chao, he loved her, and still had these doubts because what if he found the one he loved before? She's a replacement, but still he loves her.)

- meanwhile nie mingjue grows in the Nie sect and finds new friends in the lan heir, xichen. He doesn't want to love someone, burned by what happened once. Still he gets close and shares a bond stronger than he felt in years. Somehow they don't work out, lan xichen is great but there are so many secrets mingjue keeps from him that they decides that being friends, instead of engaged, is better, for both of them. Huaisang is upset by that, he wanted them to be together because they looked perfect, but no. Dage had to go and declare being friends was better.

- until at a conference he meets officially the other sect leaders. And especially sect leader wen. A man, young and undeniably pretty, with two sons, with the same name, and characters, of the one he lost. But wen ruohan, his ruohan, died many years before, he died in his arms, and nie mingjue remembered that moment very clearly. This leader seems just as taken back as he is, staring at him with wide eyes, frozen mid-bow and then mumbling that he reminded him of someone he knew as an apology.

- this wen ruohan, mingjue finds out, is very different from the one he knew, convincing him even more that it's just a weird chance. He's strong, he likes fights and he's hunger for power is something that would've never crossed his ruohan's mind. But mingjue changed too, he had left baxia spirit in charge for long, he didn't want to deal with mortals anymore and she was a good replacement, but baxia is a demon, and while not being as bloodthirsty as the others she's still a demon.

- [more things in between. Mistakes, accidents incomprehensions. nie zhenxiang is actually killed, indirectly, by wen ruohan. I just need to define things better]

🥀 || hands up, feel okay. who’s heart should i break today?

Asya could just barely count the number of years he’s known Neirin within the span of his two hands. In retrospect, with all those years, Asya wanted to feel confident in admitting that when asked, he could say he knew Neirin pretty well.

“I didn’t know that you two were acquainted with each other,” Neirin had pressed the rim of his tea cup to his lips in thought — an action Asya was well aware of knowing that it was one Neirin would do when the wheels in his head were turning, when satisfied with a thought he wanted to speak out, Neirin would then press the tip of his fingers onto the frame of his glasses and push upwards. “You never spoke of him, and him never of you. So, color me surprised when I bring him over for lunch and your reaction was… well that.”

“When did you two even meet?” Asya had frowned, completely disregarding the majority of Neirin’s comments. “When you said you had started seeing someone, he was the last one I expected to walk in and see with you. He’s not even your…”

Asya’s sentence trailed off midway, his frown only seemingly getting deeper much to Neirin’s amazement.

With a brow arched, Neirin sighed, “Pray tell? Were you perhaps aiming to say that he was not my type? I wasn’t quite aware that it was something you paid attention to.”

A moment of silence stretched between the two, the buzzling of Tea’s inn filling the temporary uncomfortable gap that was snapped in half by another one of Neirin’s sighs, “I met him when he was very injured. Similarly to how I met you, actually. I simply took it upon myself to heal him and tend to his wounds, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen… it just did.”

He’s going to break your heart, Asya had bit down his bottom lip at the thought because perhaps he could’ve been wrong. Perhaps Micah would find himself also unexpectedly surprised to find himself falling in love with someone as composed as Neirin who could steer him clear of all warning signs Micah seemed to avoid in life, and in return, Micah could give Neirin a taste of freedom away from the life where his nose had to be buried in a book at all times.

The image of Wamu’s grinning face crossed Asya’s mind, and Asya felt a pang of pity. He wished it could have been his dreaming friend instead.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Asya also wanted to think that he was pretty confident as to how much he knew Micah as well. Though his years in knowing the other Witch were smaller, his knowledge felt a lot bigger than the span of years that were shared between the two.

“If you’re not going to be serious with him, then break up.” Asya had crossed his arms, beneath the surface of the table did his leg shake in an attempt to keep his frustration towards the situation composed. Micah pretended not to see the way the table shook, and Asya felt Quinn’s delicate hand rest on top of his clenched fist in response. “You two haven’t been dating for that long and you obviously didn’t hesitate to follow after someone you shouldn’t anymore the first chance you got.”

“It’s been months since he was gone and I haven’t seen him as much as you think I would have by now since he’s returned,” There was an edge to Micah��s voice that was dripping in defense. “How ‘bout you get off my ass over something that shouldn’t concern you, Kier. You don’t even know shit ‘bout how much Neirin matters to me or the peace I’ve made over blowing what I had with Nameless.”

Asya and Micah didn’t fight. Though their relationship from an outsider's perspective would paint the image of Micah having no respect for Asya and Asya not tolerating Micah’s entire existence, Micah and Asya did not fight.

“Perhaps it is best that we allow events to steer their course,” Quinn’s suggestion was soft spoken after Micah’s frustrated departure, there was a fragile atmosphere left behind in the room that she was much too cautious to shatter. “Neirin is rather smart, we can only wait it out along the ticking clock for one or the other to open their eyes, darling. They are grown witches, after all.”

At the time, Asya’s only response had been an exhausted sigh.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Now, leaning against the metal rail of Micah’s balcony where the metal would leave an indented print within his forearms, Asya came to terms with the fact that perhaps he didn’t know anything as well as he thought he did.

“Why did you do it?” The cigar resting between Asya’s lips is halfway done, later on when he makes his way home will Sylvee cross his arms with a pout over the smell clinging to Asya’s jacket and the broken promise in which he swore to never pick one up again for the sake of his well being. “Your wedding is a month away, you know this, right?”

Silence is Asya’s only response for the second time over the course of the half hour he’s been here. When first arrived, Asya had taken the liberty to allow himself in with the spare key Micah had given him about two years ago. It was rarely used, in fact, this was probably the first time that Asya had ever used it at all though it would have remained untouched if it weren’t for the urgent situation at hand.

(“He was covered in thorns and bleeding,” Neirin’s voice was quiet from his end of the call when he had rung up at two in the morning, much to Asya’s dismay and heavy eyes, the sleep still clung to his eyelashes like weights urging his eyelids to close. “I’ve never seen him like that. I came home to him wiping a bloody needle on a napkin covered in seeds.”

There’s a sleepy murmur and an even sleepier hand tugging at Asya’s sweatpants in question over who it was on the phone. With a kiss to Sylvee’s forehead, Asya ushered him back to sleep because even the sun needed its rest before it got ready to shine for another day.

“His thorns hurt him when they wrap around him,” Asya eased out of bed where Snow’s head lifted in question from her spot on the foot of the bed. When receiving her own affection in the form of a gentle scratch behind her ears, did she purr in response and make her way towards Asya’s spot next to a once again sleeping Sylvee. “They also pop out when he’s extremely upset. Did he tell you anything at all? Did he say anything about the seeds?”

“No… He barely spoke to me while I was patching him up.” Neirin’s exhaustion was as heavy as his concern, perhaps he was reaching a breaking point himself. Asya could only hope as much that a change was to come before the end of this month. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just healed him and he’s been asleep since then.”

“Get some rest, Neirin.” Was the best Asya could offer to his friend, “I’ll check on him tomorrow, so just leave it to me.”)

“What were you expecting to achieve from going to his house? Did you think that by some miracle you’d find something different there?”

Asya’s frustration is a little more prominent the longer he carried on this one sided conversation. With more force than he needed to, he snuffed out the cigar with a squeal of protest from the tip of it over the fact that it was uncompleted.

“Micah, you surely cannot be this stupid. It’s been more than a damn year since you’ve been back and forth with this, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Are you done?” Micah’s voice rings sharp enough to slice through a person, it’s the first words he’s uttered over the course of an entire day and a half. “Yeah, I get it already, I’m an idiot. Yeah, I’m stupid! I’m the biggest fucking dumbass there is who still went off to the house of some shitty Witch one last time because guess what!? I’m also still so ridiculously in love with him! Is that what you’ve been wanting me to say from the start, Kier? Is that what you’ve been wanting me to admit so you could call me stupid over falling in love with some asshole and being unable to stop thinking of him!?”

Asya can only watch the strain Micah’s hair goes through when he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration and the thorns claw away at Micah’s hands and tug back on the strands of hair tangled with the sharp, wooden vines.

“He already told me he never gave a shit about me…” There’s a visible ache to Micah’s voice. At the sound of it, Asya isn’t sure if he wants to berate him further or wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I know I was stupid enough to hold on to hope that maybe he could love me back, that maybe before it was time for me to give him up for good… something would work out last minute between us.”

“... This isn’t the way to do it, Micah. This hasn’t been the way to do it from the start.” Asya settles on crossing his arms, he decides that despite Micah’s pain the best he could offer him was a talk instead of any form of physical comfort. The scabs resting on Micah’s cheek make him look away, Asya truly hated this. “I told you to break up with Neirin. I told you to speak up where you needed to instead — even if you got shot down. But what did you do in response? You ignored literally every bit of advice I could have offered you, as well as everyone else who tried talking to you, and forced a good handful of us into uncomfortable situations.”

Silence once again is Asya’s only response warranting a frustrated sigh and the tip of his fingers pressing roughly against the bridge of his nose, “You can’t marry him anymore, Micah. You’ve said it yourself, you’re still in love with another and that’s not right for Neirin. You can’t keep being with someone you don’t love.”

“I do love him.”

Micah scratched away at another scab located on his forearm, the dried blood clinging to his skin chipping off and spilling over to reveal a hole too deep. In an instant, blood poured over the cut and buried itself underneath Micah’s nails. Asya takes the moment to walk over and kneel down next to him, his hand taking hold of Micah’s wrist in order to pull his hand away, and urge him with tired eyes to keep talking.

“But not in the way that I should,” Micah continues.

“You love him,” Asya repeats, and Micah nods. “But you’re not in love with him.”

“No.” 

With one simple word, Asya feels the knot in his stomach unwind over the course of months that it has been there, making him sick with frustration, and worry, and tearing him from the inside out in two over the limbo in which he kept watching Micah and Neirin head down two different paths when one thought the other was following.

“I still can’t cancel the wedding…”

Asya’s breath of relief jams itself in his throat, his hold on Micah’s wrist tightens in response to the statement. He opens his mouth, but whatever protest Asya was ready to berate Micah with and enter another limbo of disagreement gets cut off the moment Neirin’s voice carries across the house and reaches them.

“Micah, have you been on the balcony all day?” Neirin’s head peeks out from behind the curtains that separated the inside of the house and the outside, his eyes widening behind the frame of his glasses in surprise over Asya’s kneeling form staring back at him and Micah’s gaze directed away from the both of them, “Hey, I would’ve thought you were home by now from your visit.”

“I had to stop a little later than planned,” Asya’s answers, the exhaustion on his face earning him a small, sympathetic smile from Neirin in silent understanding. “I’ll get out of your hair now, though. I need some fresh air anyways.”

Oh, but haven’t the two of you been out here the entire time? Neirin wants to speak up, but a quick glance at Micah continuously refusing to acknowledge both of their presence makes Neirin conclude that it was for the best to give Asya a break from whatever was going on before he arrived home.

“Give Sylvee my regards when you head home,” he followed Asya towards the front door. With Asya’s hand pausing on the door knob, Neirin tilted his head to the side to give him a moment and gather what it was that his friend wanted to say. Though, there was truly no need for Asya to speak of any advice he wished to give Neirin, it was in the course of last night that Neirin had already come up with his own conclusion as to what he had to do next. “It’s alright, Kier. You just head home, I’ll take care of things here.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Did I ever tell you that when I first met you, I thought you were a blonde?”

The first sign of emotion crosses Micah’s face at Neirin’s comment, and Neirin resists the urge to smile up at him as his hands focus on his aura around Micah’s arm — there’s a small ache he can’t help but feel at all the cuts that appeared overnight.

“I don’t think I quite knew that your hair was green until Asya made a big deal over how I described you as blonde with equally golden eyes the first time I spoke of you to him.” Though the cuts heal from the outside, Neirin can still feel little gaps in Micah’s aura. He guesses it’s because of the seeds he caught sight of buried underneath a pile of bloody tissues — the smell of rusted iron had lifted up towards his nose the moment he removed the trash can lid off to deposit the soiled bandages that had been wrapped around Micah’s other arm. “I suppose there’s a lot we failed to properly know of each other before we started dating.”

“...Where are you going with this?”

Neirin’s lips draw into a thin line. Though the illogical side of him wishes to backtrack and laugh it off as nothing more than a walk down memory lane, a simple attempt and nothing more to get Micah to talk to him and cut to an end his streak of silence, Neirin’s logical side rules out the thought as quick as it comes.

“You don’t want to marry me, Micah.” Neirin glances up, and Micah flinches away, “Maybe you didn’t even want to be with me from the start.”

“Why are you doing this…?”

“I think it’s best that we do the healthiest thing for each other, and let one another go. I can’t keep chasing after you, if you keep refusing me, and maybe that was a sign that it was never meant to be,” Neirin’s hands pull away from Micah and the usual spin to his head after healing takes over him. It’s habit by now to reach over to the coffee table in front of them where a potted plant rests, where Neirin will gently touch the soil and the green plant resting within it will wither and die in exchange for his body to cleanse from its healing, “We’re much too different… The both of us. And though there is nothing wrong with not being similar, our difference only creates more strain instead of harmony.”

“You’ve had all this time to tell me all of this and you’re just letting me know now.” Bitterness in Micah’s voice was to be expected, it was so sharp, Neirin felt as if he could taste it on the roof of his mouth.

“We’re both at fault.”

“... I tried…”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t enough.”

“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.”

Micah pulled away farther from him and Neirin allowed him to. It was not in his place anymore to pour himself into comforting the Witch that was not seeking out his comfort. Though Neirin’s heart ached and was still full of love for the plant Witch in front of him that had withered the same way his plants did when Neirin would cleanse himself on them, he knew it was for the best to cut things off before they were both stuck in an unbalanced marriage where eventually they would grow to resent each other beyond repair.

“I will let all the invited guests know, you don’t have to worry over that.” Neirin kept speaking, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs in thought as his hands clasped together, “And I’ll start packing up my things to move back home with Tea. I’ll do my best to be quick so you won’t have me in your hair for too long.”

With every word, Neirin could only watch from the corner of his eye as Micah drew his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, face burying deep in his knees as more thorns sprouted around his body.

“I’ll keep healing you until it is my last day before moving out,” Neirin sighed, and the thorns grew slightly in size. “But afterwards, you must get some help, Micah.”

“I’m done talking about this.” Micah’s voice is muffled, “Do whatever you want. We’re done here.”

An attitude Neirin had more or less expected, one he’s seen times in the past whenever he would enter arguments with Micah in which they would discuss his status with the demonic Witch that had proved to hold a stronger tie towards Micah than Neirin had anticipated.

“Just one more thing,” Neirin chimed in after he had gathered all the first aid supplies and settled them back into the kit, “When I leave your home, I think it’s best if we also cut contact with each other. I’ll send Asya and Quinn to look after you once I’m gone, but I hope you understand it’s for the best that I keep my space away from you after everything that has happened.”

Silence is his only response, and Neirin sighs in understanding. From the outside of Micah’s house, thorned vines sprout outwards from the ground and begin to crawl against the outer walls.

2 Quick conversations. 1 between roommates, 1 between blood brothers. (If for some reason it doesn’t show the “keep reading” tag on browsers, click on the date to see the full chapter if you don’t like going to AO3)

Sunday Night: Little Chalphy’s 2nd Floor. Room C1. (11:39 PM) Two weeks had already gone by since her new life as a high-school student started. She was so far away from Windmire now; it seemed downright unbelievable for the middle child of Garon Krakenberg to be in this corner of the world. +Bzzzzt!+ Of course, it would certainly be nicer for her overall independence if the constant reminders that her older sister was an instructor in the very same school she’s attending were not an everyday thing. But she understood. She’s always had her siblings help her along when the going got tough, and somewhere along the way, she started picking up after herself. You were not very likely to hear her admit as much, but that’s an obstacle to tackle for another day. After checking the messages her older sister sent, Corrin massaged the bridge of her nose. Having taken care of that, she kept fiddling with her phone, even though waking up earlier should be at the top of her priorities right now, especially with the 3 tardy reports she had accumulated so far in these few days alone, along with other… less normal things that have happened since she arrived here. But that photo she kept glancing at, as innocuous as it seemed, means so much for her after such a short period of time. Seemed like a rather run-of-the-mill occasion, too: Her senior of three years, college freshman at Belhalla University Eirika McFadden, was standing above and behind them along with her brand new roommate, a young lady that went by the name of Anthiese Lima. The aforementioned woman possessing a fiery mane of hair had both her hands resting on the shoulders of her own roommate, a smiling, cheerful young man one year her senior named Alm Flowers. If only everything were as simple as how to pick some new piece of knowledge or learn a new skill, then these mixed feelings she held in her chest would be easy to let go of. She couldn’t help it. She’s been unable to sleep well after having the same dream four times in half as many weeks. It was the very same dream each time, without fail. She felt so stupid. And a little traitorous, if she was to admit it. Luckily, in a twist of fate, she was able to secure a staunch ally in the form of her roomie. “Almster, you awake?” Said roommate allowed her to create silly perversions of his name to be deployed as affectionate nicknames at discretion. “Afraid so” “Can I talk to y—wait what?” It was at that point that she realized that, although an upstanding, unfailingly polite fellow in most circumstances, Alm was nothing if not enthusiastic when it came to giving people he considered friends a little harder a time. All in the name of a good chuckle, of course. A chuckle— or better yet, a brief snicker— she could faintly hear and that she has now come to appreciate. “I am just pulling your leg. You want to do another life consultation, do you not?” The green-haired boy turned his head around to face his roommate and junior in the bed a couple of feet away from his. “Go ahead and tell me what burdens you so this night” “Well, it’s complicated” ‘… Only because you’re a complete chicken, Corrin J. Krakenberg! What are you actually saying right now!? Get it together! Ask for help! McGreen is your friend!’ Both her mouth and her inner thoughts kept her teetering on the edge. She’s known him for a little over half a month. Does she smother him with all her neuroses? “Well, it’s about the concert coming up next week, to be honest. Is Ms. Anthiese going to be ok with you accompanying me to it?” For now she decides to take an easy way out.‘Too soon’ Corrin thought for a spell. ‘Perhaps next time’ “I see” The green-haired boy focused his attention into the ceiling for a moment, before letting out a brief chuckle out. “Not to worry. Milady has established that she is not interested in attending that evening recital, so she should be all right with me taking that part of the day off for merriment and accompanying y—” Alm interrupted himself when he heard Corrin’s soft whimpers and sniffles for a brief second. Too long a time lapse, as far as he is concerned. “Is something the matter?” His inquiry came at the same time he pushed the sheets off himself to sit on the bed. “Ah—! N-no it’s fine! Don’t worry, Flower-power!” She quickly switched gears, along with turning away when she realized that she was going to be unable to face him right now as she is if this thread of conversation kept going. “Are you certain?” “Yeah! Totally cool, totally cool, totally cool… seriously, I mean it!” “I see” Flowers decided that, if she wants his help, she should be able to ask so any time she needs to. “Just be aware that I am here for you, understood?” “Thanks! Appreciate it” Krakenberg sat up straight and seemed a bit perked up at hearing those words. “So! Since we’re doing the life consultation thing, can I ask you another question?” “Ah, for certain! Feel free to do so” “Do you have someone you like?” Alm’s easygoing, relaxed expression suddenly gave way to a rather forced smile as he opened his previously-shut eyes. The memory of the playful kisses Anthiese and he shared after graduation from their first year of high-school about a month ago still fresh on his mind. It was probably showing all over his face right now. “Ah… well… it de-dep—” “You do!” She quickly bridged the gap between them and all but jumped in front of him, with her hands resting on his knees. “Are they here? Someone I know? DOES MISS ANTHIESE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!” At that moment, while looking away from her, Alm knew he needed to play it cool… + KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! + … Thankfully, a familiar sound coming from the door managed to kill Corrin’s momentum. “Kids, remember that it is lights out after 11. Go to sleep” Sigurd’s voice was firm, but never rose beyond a certain level. “Especially you, Miss Krakenberg” The emphasis still smarted a little bit. “Yes, sir” Both replied in not-quite unison. Looking a bit downtrodden, Corrin quickly noticed that she was still invading her roommate’s personal space, when a blush quickly made an act of appearance in her face. “Sorry!” She quickly apologized as she turning away and crawling under her bedsheets. And there it was again: That faint chuckle of his. “Nothing to concern yourself about, Miss” She refused to look him in the eye, but she could perfectly envision his smile. “To be continued tomorrow, perhaps?” At his sudden addition, a smile snuck up on her. “Why, of course!” And just like that, her mood before hitting the hay improved almost right away. ---------------------------------------------------- Tuesday: Rosen Jungfru Restaurant. (4:30 PM) While the two-star restaurant— specialized in traditional Velthomerian cuisine— is normally bustling with all sorts of powerful people filling its seats, even with somewhat uneasy political climate that has resulted due to recent events… today, though? A complete anomaly, what with the restaurant being almost empty save for a couple of dedicated waiters and few patrons. “I feel so goddamn exposed right now” An anomaly Hector Kormorane seemed quite receptive towards, even while staring at the bathroom mirror while adjusting the bothersome tie he had just recently learned how to tie properly. “Also looking very much like a court clown, I might add” “Is it because we had to get suited-up?” “Yes, Commodore Obvious, thank you, because of—” Hector interrupted himself when he heard the whirring sound coming from Eliwood’s direction. “—OH YOU DID NOT JUST TAKE A PICTURE!” “Why yes, I did. It’s not every day one gets asked a personal favor by the Marquess of Ostia” “WHAT?!” Hector’s voice broke its normally unflappable baritone to revel a surprisingly screechy side. “Eliwood Faeris, delete that right now, or gods so help me, I will make sure your shoulders are uneven for the rest of your life!” As they exited the men’s room, the young Ostian tried to avert the crisis that was sure to follow by swiping the phone off of his childhood friend’s hand… only for Pherae’s young Marquess-heir to swiftly move his right arm out of reach. “So, so slow, Hec!” Eliwood’s sniping was accompanied by a big cheerful grin. “Oh, could it be Mr. Big Hector Style secretly wants to make his big brother proud?” “Oh, that does it! So help me if you ma—” Before they could continue, the sound originating from Hector’s breast pocket suddenly stopped both young men on their tracks. Hector stared straight at a table where a brown-haired waiter raised two digits—his middle and ring ones, to be precise— just slightly above the aforementioned table. On his part, Eliwood yawned while looking at a sharp-dressed waitress who gave him a discreet thumbs-up, at which moment Eliwood cut his yawning short. Hector tapped his nose, and with that, the red-haired waitress moved towards the restaurant’s main entrance while the aforementioned brown-haired young man walked towards a table which had the entire cutlery necessary to assist a four person course. “Remember, Hec: We give no quarter” Eliwood slicked his hair back just right before walking towards their destination. “Damn straight we won’t!” Hector chuckled while adjusting his right sleeve cufflinks. “Let’s get this show on the road” He adds as they both start walking towards their current objective. Near the door, Eliwood steals a quick glance of the two patrons that will soon join them. “Be on your guard, Eli” Hector mutters while eyeing the duo as they come inside the Rosen Jungfru. “Well, would you look what the fucking cat dragged in!” A man that actually stands above Hector’s height smirked. “If it isn’t the wussiest motherfucker who ever lived ins—! GEH!” Suddenly, the other man standing right next to the blabbermouth interrupts him with a well-placed smack upside the head. “OW! Lloyd, what gives?!” “We just got here and you’re already showing your ass. Calm down” The man with dirty-blond hair was massaging the back of his neck while replying to his brasher counterpart. “It has been a while, Reed brothers” “Welp! No retort! Does that mean the little Ostian squirt has finally matured?” Hector felt that perhaps Lloyd could’ve further disciplined his younger brother with a harder smack upside the head, but he knew that he needed to keep his cool. “So… shall we?” And with that, Hector gestured towards the table so that this banquet could finally get underway.

uprooted

Asya could just barely count the number of years he’s known Neirin within the span of his two hands. In retrospect, with all those years, Asya wanted to feel confident in admitting that when asked, he could say he knew Neirin pretty well.

“I didn’t know that you two were acquainted with each other,” Neirin had pressed the rim of his tea cup to his lips in thought — an action Asya was well aware of knowing that it was one Neirin would do when the wheels in his head were turning, when satisfied with a thought he wanted to speak out, Neirin would then press the tip of his fingers onto the frame of his glasses and push upwards. “You never spoke of him, and him never of you. So, color me surprised when I bring him over for lunch and your reaction was… well that.”

“When did you two even meet?” Asya had frowned, completely disregarding the majority of Neirin’s comments. “When you said you had started seeing someone, he was the last one I expected to walk in and see with you. He’s not even your…”

Asya’s sentence trailed off midway, his frown only seemingly getting deeper much to Neirin’s amazement.

With a brow arched, Neirin sighed, “Pray tell? Were you perhaps aiming to say that he was not my type? I wasn’t quite aware that it was something you paid attention to.”

A moment of silence stretched between the two, the buzzling of Tea’s inn filling the temporary uncomfortable gap that was snapped in half by another one of Neirin’s sighs, “I met him when he was very injured. Similarly to how I met you, actually. I simply took it upon myself to heal him and tend to his wounds, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen… it just did.”

He’s going to break your heart, Asya had bit down his bottom lip at the thought because perhaps he could’ve been wrong. Perhaps Micah would find himself also unexpectedly surprised to find himself falling in love with someone as composed as Neirin who could steer him clear of all warning signs Micah seemed to avoid in life, and in return, Micah could give Neirin a taste of freedom away from the life where his nose had to be buried in a book at all times.

The image of Wamu’s grinning face crossed Asya’s mind, and Asya felt a pang of pity. He wished it could have been his dreaming friend instead.

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Asya also wanted to think that he was pretty confident as to how much he knew Micah as well. Though his years in knowing the other Witch were smaller, his knowledge felt a lot bigger than the span of years that were shared between the two.

“If you’re not going to be serious with him, then break up.” Asya had crossed his arms, beneath the surface of the table did his leg shake in an attempt to keep his frustration towards the situation composed. Micah pretended not to see the way the table shook, and Asya felt Quinn’s delicate hand rest on top of his clenched fist in response. “You two haven’t been dating for that long and you obviously didn’t hesitate to follow after someone you shouldn’t anymore the first chance you got.”

“It’s been months since he was gone and I haven’t seen him as much as you think I would have by now since he’s returned,” There was an edge to Micah’s voice that was dripping in defense. “How ‘bout you get off my ass over something that shouldn’t concern you, Kier. You don’t even know shit ‘bout how much Neirin matters to me or the peace I’ve made over blowing what I had with Nameless.”

Asya and Micah didn’t fight. Though their relationship from an outsider's perspective would paint the image of Micah having no respect for Asya and Asya not tolerating Micah’s entire existence, Micah and Asya did not fight.

“Perhaps it is best that we allow events to steer their course,” Quinn’s suggestion was soft spoken after Micah’s frustrated departure, there was a fragile atmosphere left behind in the room that she was much too cautious to shatter. “Neirin is rather smart, we can only wait it out along the ticking clock for one or the other to open their eyes, darling. They are grown witches, after all.”

At the time, Asya’s only response had been an exhausted sigh.

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Now, leaning against the metal rail of Micah’s balcony where the metal would leave an indented print within his forearms, Asya came to terms with the fact that perhaps he didn’t know anything as well as he thought he did.

“Why did you do it?” The cigar resting between Asya’s lips is halfway done, later on when he makes his way home will Sylvee cross his arms with a pout over the smell clinging to Asya’s jacket and the broken promise in which he swore to never pick one up again for the sake of his well being. “Your wedding is a month away, you know this, right?”

Silence is Asya’s only response for the second time over the course of the half hour he’s been here. When first arrived, Asya had taken the liberty to allow himself in with the spare key Micah had given him about two years ago. It was rarely used, in fact, this was probably the first time that Asya had ever used it at all though it would have remained untouched if it weren’t for the urgent situation at hand.

(“He was covered in thorns and bleeding,” Neirin’s voice was quiet from his end of the call when he had rung up at two in the morning, much to Asya’s dismay and heavy eyes, the sleep still clung to his eyelashes like weights urging his eyelids to close. “I’ve never seen him like that. I came home to him wiping a bloody needle on a napkin covered in seeds.”

There’s a sleepy murmur and an even sleepier hand tugging at Asya’s sweatpants in question over who it was on the phone. With a kiss to Sylvee’s forehead, Asya ushered him back to sleep because even the sun needed its rest before it got ready to shine for another day.

“His thorns hurt him when they wrap around him,” Asya eased out of bed where Snow’s head lifted in question from her spot on the foot of the bed. When receiving her own affection in the form of a gentle scratch behind her ears, did she purr in response and make her way towards Asya’s spot next to a once again sleeping Sylvee. “They also pop out when he’s extremely upset. Did he tell you anything at all? Did he say anything about the seeds?”

“No… He barely spoke to me while I was patching him up.” Neirin’s exhaustion was as heavy as his concern, perhaps he was reaching a breaking point himself. Asya could only hope as much that a change was to come before the end of this month. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just healed him and he’s been asleep since then.”

“Get some rest, Neirin.” Was the best Asya could offer to his friend, “I’ll check on him tomorrow, so just leave it to me.”)

“What were you expecting to achieve from going to his house? Did you think that by some miracle you’d find something different there?”

Asya’s frustration is a little more prominent the longer he carried on this one sided conversation. With more force than he needed to, he snuffed out the cigar with a squeal of protest from the tip of it over the fact that it was uncompleted.

“Micah, you surely cannot be this stupid. It’s been more than a damn year since you’ve been back and forth with this, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Are you done?” Micah’s voice rings sharp enough to slice through a person, it’s the first words he’s uttered over the course of an entire day and a half. “Yeah, I get it already, I’m an idiot. Yeah, I’m stupid! I’m the biggest fucking dumbass there is who still went off to the house of some shitty Witch one last time because guess what!? I’m also still so ridiculously in love with him! Is that what you’ve been wanting me to say from the start, Kier? Is that what you’ve been wanting me to admit so you could call me stupid over falling in love with some asshole and being unable to stop thinking of him!?”

Asya can only watch the strain Micah’s hair goes through when he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration and the thorns claw away at Micah’s hands and tug back on the strands of hair tangled with the sharp, wooden vines.

“He already told me he never gave a shit about me…” There’s a visible ache to Micah’s voice. At the sound of it, Asya isn’t sure if he wants to berate him further or wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I know I was stupid enough to hold on to hope that maybe he could love me back, that maybe before it was time for me to give him up for good… something would work out last minute between us.”

“... This isn’t the way to do it, Micah. This hasn’t been the way to do it from the start.” Asya settles on crossing his arms, he decides that despite Micah’s pain the best he could offer him was a talk instead of any form of physical comfort. The scabs resting on Micah’s cheek make him look away, Asya truly hated this. “I told you to break up with Neirin. I told you to speak up where you needed to instead — even if you got shot down. But what did you do in response? You ignored literally every bit of advice I could have offered you, as well as everyone else who tried talking to you, and forced a good handful of us into uncomfortable situations.”

Silence once again is Asya’s only response warranting a frustrated sigh and the tip of his fingers pressing roughly against the bridge of his nose, “You can’t marry him anymore, Micah. You’ve said it yourself, you’re still in love with another and that’s not right for Neirin. You can’t keep being with someone you don’t love.”

“I do love him.”

Micah scratched away at another scab located on his forearm, the dried blood clinging to his skin chipping off and spilling over to reveal a hole too deep. In an instant, blood poured over the cut and buried itself underneath Micah’s nails. Asya takes the moment to walk over and kneel down next to him, his hand taking hold of Micah’s wrist in order to pull his hand away, and urge him with tired eyes to keep talking.

“But not in the way that I should,” Micah continues.

“You love him,” Asya repeats, and Micah nods. “But you’re not in love with him.”

“No.” 

With one simple word, Asya feels the knot in his stomach unwind over the course of months that it has been there, making him sick with frustration, and worry, and tearing him from the inside out in two over the limbo in which he kept watching Micah and Neirin head down two different paths when one thought the other was following.

“I still can’t cancel the wedding…”

Asya’s breath of relief jams itself in his throat, his hold on Micah’s wrist tightens in response to the statement. He opens his mouth, but whatever protest Asya was ready to berate Micah with and enter another limbo of disagreement gets cut off the moment Neirin’s voice carries across the house and reaches them.

“Micah, have you been on the balcony all day?” Neirin’s head peeks out from behind the curtains that separated the inside of the house and the outside, his eyes widening behind the frame of his glasses in surprise over Asya’s kneeling form staring back at him and Micah’s gaze directed away from the both of them, “Hey, I would’ve thought you were home by now from your visit.”

“I had to stop a little later than planned,” Asya’s answers, the exhaustion on his face earning him a small, sympathetic smile from Neirin in silent understanding. “I’ll get out of your hair now, though. I need some fresh air anyways.”

Oh, but haven’t the two of you been out here the entire time? Neirin wants to speak up, but a quick glance at Micah continuously refusing to acknowledge both of their presence makes Neirin conclude that it was for the best to give Asya a break from whatever was going on before he arrived home.

“Give Sylvee my regards when you head home,” he followed Asya towards the front door. With Asya’s hand pausing on the door knob, Neirin tilted his head to the side to give him a moment and gather what it was that his friend wanted to say. Though, there was truly no need for Asya to speak of any advice he wished to give Neirin, it was in the course of last night that Neirin had already come up with his own conclusion as to what he had to do next. “It’s alright, Kier. You just head home, I’ll take care of things here.”

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“Did I ever tell you that when I first met you, I thought you were a blonde?”

The first sign of emotion crosses Micah’s face at Neirin’s comment, and Neirin resists the urge to smile up at him as his hands focus on his aura around Micah’s arm — there’s a small ache he can’t help but feel at all the cuts that appeared overnight.

“I don’t think I quite knew that your hair was green until Asya made a big deal over how I described you as blonde with equally golden eyes the first time I spoke of you to him.” Though the cuts heal from the outside, Neirin can still feel little gaps in Micah’s aura. He guesses it’s because of the seeds he caught sight of buried underneath a pile of bloody tissues — the smell of rusted iron had lifted up towards his nose the moment he removed the trash can lid off to deposit the soiled bandages that had been wrapped around Micah’s other arm. “I suppose there’s a lot we failed to properly know of each other before we started dating.”

“...Where are you going with this?”

Neirin’s lips draw into a thin line. Though the illogical side of him wishes to backtrack and laugh it off as nothing more than a walk down memory lane, a simple attempt and nothing more to get Micah to talk to him and cut to an end his streak of silence, Neirin’s logical side rules out the thought as quick as it comes.

“You don’t want to marry me, Micah.” Neirin glances up, and Micah flinches away, “Maybe you didn’t even want to be with me from the start.”

“Why are you doing this…?”

“I think it’s best that we do the healthiest thing for each other, and let one another go. I can’t keep chasing after you, if you keep refusing me, and maybe that was a sign that it was never meant to be,” Neirin’s hands pull away from Micah and the usual spin to his head after healing takes over him. It’s habit by now to reach over to the coffee table in front of them where a potted plant rests, where Neirin will gently touch the soil and the green plant resting within it will wither and die in exchange for his body to cleanse from its healing, “We’re much too different… The both of us. And though there is nothing wrong with not being similar, our difference only creates more strain instead of harmony.”

“You’ve had all this time to tell me all of this and you’re just letting me know now.” Bitterness in Micah’s voice was to be expected, it was so sharp, Neirin felt as if he could taste it on the roof of his mouth.

“We’re both at fault.”

“... I tried…”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t enough.”

“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.”

Micah pulled away farther from him and Neirin allowed him to. It was not in his place anymore to pour himself into comforting the Witch that was not seeking out his comfort. Though Neirin’s heart ached and was still full of love for the plant Witch in front of him that had withered the same way his plants did when Neirin would cleanse himself on them, he knew it was for the best to cut things off before they were both stuck in an unbalanced marriage where eventually they would grow to resent each other beyond repair.

“I will let all the invited guests know, you don’t have to worry over that.” Neirin kept speaking, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs in thought as his hands clasped together, “And I’ll start packing up my things to move back home with Tea. I’ll do my best to be quick so you won’t have me in your hair for too long.”

With every word, Neirin could only watch from the corner of his eye as Micah drew his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, face burying deep in his knees as more thorns sprouted around his body.

“I’ll keep healing you until it is my last day before moving out,” Neirin sighed, and the thorns grew slightly in size. “But afterwards, you must get some help, Micah.”

“I’m done talking about this.” Micah’s voice is muffled, “Do whatever you want. We’re done here.”

An attitude Neirin had more or less expected, one he’s seen times in the past whenever he would enter arguments with Micah in which they would discuss his status with the demonic Witch that had proved to hold a stronger tie towards Micah than Neirin had anticipated.

“Just one more thing,” Neirin chimed in after he had gathered all the first aid supplies and settled them back into the kit, “When I leave your home, I think it’s best if we also cut contact with each other. I’ll send Asya and Quinn to look after you once I’m gone, but I hope you understand it’s for the best that I keep my space away from you after everything that has happened.”

Silence is his only response, and Neirin sighs in understanding. From the outside of Micah’s house, thorned vines sprout outwards from the ground and begin to crawl against the outer walls.