#veylin writing
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Reined In
“Are you out of your mind? Are you stupid? What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
“Benjin,” Veylin interjects softly, ineffectual plea glancing off you as Mallum stares you down.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” He shoots back, defensive. “I was doing you a favor!”
“A favor? What the fuck do you mean a favor!?”
“You were better off not knowing.”
“Better off?” You echo incredulously, heart hammering in your chest, The way it pounds against your ribs, you’re half convinced it wants to kick them out and go strangle the idiot itself.
“What good would it have done?”
“What- WHAT GOOD!? How about fucking safety, Mallum? How about not getting ambushed?”
“You wouldn’t–”
“I think we deserve a little fucking warning, Mallum!”
“You wouldn’t have been ambushed!” He shouts, fins flaring outward
“Oh really? You know that? You can see the future now, Mal?”
“Fucking listen to me!”
“Oh, I’m listening! I’m all fucking ears! Go ahead, what vision did you have? Was it anything like his?” You cock your head at Zurven, tucked silently against Veylin’s hip at the edge of the room.
You hate this. You hate acting like this, hate that they’re seeing you like this, but you can’t seem to quell the fury that roars inside your throat. The heat of it is enough to make your hands shake, and you clench them at your sides.
“I told Aderae–”
“Oh! Great! Aderae got to know before we did, I’m so glad! What a bond you two must have, sounds really beautiful.”
“Would you let me fucking finish!?” he snaps. “I told Aderae I saw them. You were safe.”
“Okay!? And what about you!?”
“What about me?”
“They have your fucking blood, Mallum! They have means to fucking track you, you don’t think we need to know that?”
“No! I don’t!”
“You don’t.”
“It didn’t concern you.”
“It’s fucking Harlan!”
“Yeah!?” Mallum throws his arms out in some semblance of a shrug, fixing you with a bewildered stare. “He’s not your problem, Ben! It’s not your job to save us from him!”
“He is my problem, Mallum! And I don’t expect you to fucking get it, but I thought you could at least use your fucking brain. This isn’t the kind of thing you keep from us. That’s not your choice to make.”
“Well maybe it should be!”
A dark cloud seems to descend over the room, over you, as the words leave his mouth.
“Excuse me?” you ask, voice startlingly low in your own ears.
The tension, thick and binding, constricts around your lungs. You flex an antsy fist in hopes of shaking it while Mallum watches you with expression unflinching, stone cold in his conviction that he has truly done nothing wrong. It sends another wave of anger crashing over you, searing and violent.
“You weren’t there,” you grit, uncomfortably aware of your own hands. You relax them just to clench your fists again, arms laden with an energy you don’t know how to dispel.
“That’s exactly why! None of you are going to be objective when–”
“This isn’t the fucking time to be objective! You put us in danger, Mallum, you put yourself in danger! Do you seriously not understand how fucked that is?”
“You were safe,” Mallum huffs again, his impatient indignation like a slap to your face. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Gosh, well in that case!” your sardonic tone is offset slightly by the volume of your voice. Try as you might, you can’t seem to lower it, locked into a shout that leaves your head pounding and your lungs pumping. “My bad, you guys, Mallum wasn’t worried! False alarm!”
“If you knew, you would never leave the hive again.”
“For good fucking reason!”
“I’m telling you, Benjin, it’s not a big deal!”
“YES IT IS!” you shriek, arms tensing as you are hit suddenly with the impulse to swing. A voice in the back of your head urges you to get your frustrations out, to strike the wall and allow the white-hot rage buzzing in your ears to pour through your arm into the world around you. You can almost feel it, like a phantom’s touch across your knuckles, aching, begging you to drive them into something with the full brunt of your emotion.
Your breath catches in your throat, anger all at once replaced with stark, overwhelming fear. That instinct isn’t yours. It shouldn’t be yours.
Chest heaving and head swirling, you take a small step back, eyes wide, then spin on your heel and storm from the room without a word.
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Scruples
[Google Docs]
As soon as Zerkev leaves the room, you feel your shoulders relax as tension you didn’t even realize was there the entire time he was present starts to release itself. At this rate, you’ll be conditioned into a soft mush anytime someone so much as politely excuses themselves for the evening. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? That he is so normal.
It wouldn’t feel so silly to be afraid of him if he could just be a little bit less normal about this entire situation.
Speaking of a little less normal, here comes his child, meandering around the couch as he shovels the last of his yogurt into his mouth. Never in your life has there been someone that annoys you to the same degree that this manchild does. Instead of acknowledging his company, you instead turn your full attention to Veylin, who sits beside you on the couch.
“Starlight, I’m so sorry--”
She opens her mouth to cut you off, but it is Mallums voice that hits your ears. He’s made himself comfortable at this point, seated on the arm of the couch with his feet planted firmly on the empty seat to your left.
“Sorry for what Moptop? You aren’t even trying.” He scoffs, and there’s no need to turn and face him to recognize that an eyeroll came along with it. “Beyond me how you tricked them into thinking otherwise.”
“Mallum--” He is so good at cutting you off.
“Ah, ah. No, I had enough mind control last time. Shit lingers too long.”
It isn’t worth turning to engage in a conversation with him, or even trying to figure out what he’s talking about in the first place. In fact, what he has to say matters so little, you haven’t even bothered giving him a nickname yet.
What could you even call him that no one else in his life already calls him, anyway? Brat, nuisance, bother. He reminds you a bit of some of the younger students when they start to feel like they aren’t receiving enough positive attention, except he’s a grown man. He really ought to learn to cope. Being raised by Zerkev really stunted his growth, huh?
“Speaking of,” he carries on, as if either of you invited him for a chat. “How do I shake it? Shit’s distracting as fuck.”
You squeeze Veylins hand, not intending on answering. His impatience begins to manifest in the form of his fingers drumming along the back of the couch as soon as the silence places itself between you.
“What are you talking about?” You finally relent, with a sigh, when a socked foot is pressed gently into and starts to nudge against your shoulder. He does it twice more after your response before retracting his leg.
“Your powers, how do I make them fuck off?”
“Just leave me alone--”
“Yeah, I know that’s what you want.” He cuts in again, but you keep talking.
“Or whatever the request is. Fulfill the command and the itch will go away.”
“Bullshit.” He says this in a way that you imagine Zerkev’s internal monologue sounds like at the end of these fruitless brainwashing sessions. Mallum is just much louder about his disappointment. The incredulity is palpable. “It fucking lingers.”
Veylin tilts her head, ever inquisitive and analytic that beam of starlight.
“Can you be more specific?” You sound as exhausted as you are.
“All that ‘don’t you feel bad for us, Mallum?’ and ‘have a little sympathy.’ Tell me how to get rid of that.” Once again his foot its planted against your shoulder and he begins rocking you. “Quit holding out, Mops.”
This time, his antics do not get to you, as you are much too busy processing his complaint. Those are suggestions, barely even commands. Their influences ought to leave his system the second he gets out of your immediate vicinity.
Unless.
You and Veylin lock eyes, and it feels that the two of you have come to the same conclusion; Not only does Mallum Pravus actually have a conscience in there, something about this situation has put it to work. He cares about the plight he is observing, he feels bad about it.
“I won’t tell Zerkev if that’s what you’re worried about.” He says as he stops shaking you, though his foot remains in place. “It’s hard to plan shit out when I”m thinking about how sad you two are.”
“Mallum--”
He nudges you.
“Ah. No funny business.”
You sigh. Why is he so annoying?
“Did you stop to think that maybe this is a bad thing happening? And you feel bad because it is happening?” You speak slowly, now trying hard to mask the exasperation in your voice in an attempt to not somehow eviscerate the hope for goodwill. “Is that too much to consider?”
Mallum doesn’t say anything, but he does finally take his foot off of you. Seems he is either actually considering the possibility or trying to think of a real zinger to refute it.
Either way, he is silent and that is a blessing.
“What exactly are you planning?” Veylin chimes in, disrupting the silence with a pleasant, soothing voice. It is a nice change of pace.
“What else?” He shoots back, as though he was waiting for an opportunity to brag about his brilliance. “I’m getting you out of here Kenshe. You’re welcome.”
There is a pause. For, applause perhaps. Or maybe a stunned gasp. Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t shut up for long.
“The old bastard disrespected me, so he’s getting a lesson.”
Perhaps if this declaration came before the discovery of his conscience, you would believe that this is wholly a point of pride. Fragile ego destroyed by the patriarchs in his life. But you already know the truth, Veylin does too, he is just using that to mask the intention. He feels bad.
Too bad he doesn’t feel bad enough to include you in this plan, though. Veylins expression softens as soon as the thought crosses your mind.
Ah, right. Empath.
“Perhaps you can use these lingering feelings to guide you in your mission.” She offers, rubbing her thumb gently over the back of your hand.
“That’s stupid.” He counters, once again drumming along to unheard thoughts along the back of the couch. “So, you’re sure this isn’t your mind control?”
Finally, you turn to face him, it would be harder to get a reading on his earnestness otherwise.
“I’m positive.”
His face screws up at this response, like it has the aftertaste of something incredibly sour.
“Well, fuck.” Mallum sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “That throws a wrench in things.”
He seems to completely lose himself to a conversation that is more internal than external.
“Okay, shit. That’s fine.” He swings his legs back around and stands up as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Another moving piece. Shit, alright. Sure! Fine.”
He continues muttering to himself as he exits the room, seemingly forgetting that the three of you were previously engaged in conversation.
Maybe this is a good sign?
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if i was active enuf i would list my fave ships also
#txt#i like… one… that i can think of… idk much abt em but the lil bit i have read and seen abt them i like…..#(veylin + mallum btw)#i wonder if anyone likes ships i have. th problem is i don’t DRAW or write about any of them enough… sigh……#one day tho. y’all will know the DEAL about waves collide our fucking beloveds
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1, 2, 6, 8, 12, and 22!
im doing urs first. just for fun
my god holy moly this got so long readmore time
1. Show your most recent wip
pspspspps [waves the prospect of ship art in front of you] if you do artfight i'll draw concordia ex machina next
2. 5 favourites of your own work?
FIVE? i don't draw that much!!! hold on i'll go browse
In no particular order! Veylin's bust painting is my fav ive done of any of those, i'm still rlly proud of nohope and planhz's sprites, i reaaaaaally love how i did the color and overlays on that abby headshot, and the dogy is an artfight attack from last year that is everything i love about my older lineless art style!!!
6. Which artists inspire you right now?
Alright buckle up folks this is a longer one
So I'm gonna answer this in two parts basically. The first part is artists that inspired me to start drawing what I like, especially fantrolls-- so a lot of my friends really!! Wanting to be in this community is what made me start actually doing art as something I was passionate about!!!!! The second part is actually twitter artists that inspired me to actually renovate my art style, try new things, and actually grow as an artist in ways that I really just never did here before.
I know I'm gonna forget a lot of people but the ones that come to mind right away for people who had an Impact on me back in the day are !!U!! gabriel 8bit-mau5, newt indig0trolls, my friend max who's no longer in the community, my friend lumiet who doesn't even do fantrolls but is really cool, and god a lot of old blogs whos muns are just gone now..................... wistful sigh :(
BUUUUUT as for artists who made me want to actually grow again in my. Wait hold on
[sets out a sign that says CRINGE WARNING -- I LIKED DSMP IN LATE 2020-EARLY TO MID 2021]
Okay now that that's out of the way! Some of the artists who made me actually want to learn and change and GROW again are giraffeleggos, mielzy_png, and WolfyTheWitch on twt :3 Mielzy especially is an art streamer who has a huge focus on being introspective and taking criticism and wanting to grow and always be improving in a direction they want. Hella cool to see someone be like, never satisfied in a "i love art and drawing so i want to grow and do it as well as i can as a respect for the craft" type of way. I don't think any of these guys except for Wolfy are actually into dsmp anymore but when I got into their content they were all dsmp fanartists so.
Okay this is really long actually so I'll quit there. Wait no actually here's a list of a handful of folks whose art inspires me to keep learning nowadays (also mostly all my friends)-- nero ramgodd, roe roetrolls, dami ask-the-troll-boys, greg lordtonic, and an extra special shoutout to chase sasster for making me want to write again. I just wanna do the cool art stuff like my really awesome friends so bad yall
8. What do you like most about your own work?
Hrmmmmmmmmmmm okay this one is tough bc both I wanna say "nothing bc I have a lot of strengths" and "nothing bc there's always room for me to grow and improve so even my best strengths aren't as good as they could and will eventually be"
But like. I really like how I paint actually
12. Show your favourite drawing from this year
FROM THIS YEAR.... ok let's comb thru my art tag
Oh wait easy simple. The whole fuckin aliquid ex nihilo comic. That took me so goddamn long but it was a labor of love and I desperately want to do more 1-page song comics like that but unfortunately they take me like 2 weeks if I do full lineart and that shit sucks
There are a lot of things I want to redo on it that are also things I redid in the process of making this comic but as is the nature of being so used to drawing sprites I forget how to draw people in actual poses and also interacting with things. I still think overall just because also of how funky I got with the coloring, framing, the fact that this is the first comic ive ever planned and fully completed ever, etc. that this one's my fav thing I've drawn in 2022 thus far
22. When is your prime time to work on your art?
Nighttime and also whenever I'm medicated LMAO I can NEVER focus on drawing if I'm off my meds idk how I did it before
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12th perigees gifts uvu
Hera would get Sev a snuggly blanket emblazoned with various birds of prey (it was the only one she could find with eagles on it) and a matching eagle plushy. Specifically to wear the blanket on his shoulders when writing, because it gets cold at her hive at night, and to have the eagle chill on his desk.
@uprising-trolls
Hera would get Alvaro a cookbook with handwritten notes on many of the recipes, noting which ones she likes and with another note at the front offering to teach/help him if he has any trouble.
She would also get him a silver ring that looks like a feather wrapping around.
@stickertrolls
Cade would get Veylin a mini model of a scorpion that clacks it’s claws when a button on the tail is pressed. He’d admit he has no idea how to get 12th perigee’s gifts.
@roetrolls
Therus would make Almata a nice dress in Dubhithe style (read: victorian-esque) and give it to her along with two giant loaves of bread. Laures would say the gift is from both of them (because he has nothing to give and no capability of making anything :c)
@lashydsdomain
Aki would fret over a gift for Vi for weeks and get her a hand-picked set of quality knives with various uses, but whether or not he actually has the balls to give it to her is a mystery
@celestialtrolls
Cheran would also fret over getting Ashe a gift and would wind up giving Ashe his old record player and records, cuz he thought he might like to play them in the clinic.
Helios would get Ashe a ledger.
Ani would give Lucy a handmade cookbook and a too-big handmade sweater from Anhele (even though she told Ani to say it was from them).
@raitrolling
Kairne would make no mention of 12th perigees unless asked about it. If he’s dating him, he’d just gesture at himself if Kota asked or mentioned a 12th perigees gift. Again if he’s dating him, if Tiem asked Kairne would just kiss him and say Tiem doesn’t need gifts cuz he’s a gift himself.
Later he’d track down something, anything from their original time period, to the point of breaking into a museum for it, to give to Tiem.
@reverietrolls
Mik would get Blythe a new handkerchief since he bled all over hers.
Suhari would leave an envelope with some money in Kat’s mailbox. Same goes for Lana, he’d just leave her some money and/or food.
Akidis would give Zero a cashmere scarf she made and invite him to dinner.
@passivetrolls
Nari would be at a loss for what to give Eli and would show up on her doorstep on 12th perigees eve looking like shit, and shakily stumble over something about how he’s her 12th perigees gift, before giving up and trying to leave.
Sveket would get Lunati a ‘How to make friends for idiots’ book.
Verran would offer Rumina some homemade food/Christmas dinner.
Nihl would get Aelynn an. Interesting outfit in one of his varying styles of dress.
Kairos would just ask what Annabel wanted, or otherwise try to glean some want or need out of her.
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Secrets, Secrets
Something was wrong.
Veylin knew before Mallum entered the hive, his dread seeping beneath the door like a cloud of creeping mist that coiled thick around her lungs.
Something had happened.
Zurven knew as soon as he laid eyes on him, saw the way his shoulders drooped with weight and his smile seemed to sag.
He was hiding something.
Benjin knew when morning fell and Mallum, always so keen on keeping his gills free while sleeping, began rooting through his wardrobe for a shirt to wear to bed.
The question hung like a sword above their heads, filling the hive with a looming tension he seemed determined to ignore. For all his efforts, though, there was an undeniable burden at his back, and his nonchalance felt paradoxically deliberate.
It was almost uncanny, the way he acted so like himself in a manner which felt so forced.
They knew, all of them, that something was wrong. How could they not? They knew him. For all the effort he put into acting just as normal, his unease rolled off him like a vapor, unobservable yet so tangibly present it was impossible to ignore.
There was one exception to this tense and uncertain knowing, one person who did not have to sit and wonder, one place where things were truly concrete.
Hirsch knew when Mallum told him.
"It could have been Zerkev. That's what's getting me," Mallum grumbled, arm crossed over his chest and thumb pressed to his teeth as he paced before his moirail. "He's not above psychological warfare. He would do this, if he thought it'd work, I know he would. But against me? He wouldn't. There's no way, right?"
Hirsch simply nodded along, listening attentively while the seadweller worked through his thoughts.
"But it'd be smart, that's the thing! I mean, think about it! You make me think Mahkir is after me, you get me scared, and I run home to safety."
Again, Hirsch nodded, holding both their swords and watching Mallum tread back in forth in the clearing they had long since claimed as theirs.
"But if it's not Zerkev. And it... It shouldn't be, he wouldn't," he continued, "then those three are never going to feel safe in the city again. Zurven can barely stand to enter public as it is, I can't... I can't do that to them."
Finally, Mallum's feet fell still, and Hirsch lifted himself off the rock he had chosen for a seat to pull the smaller troll into his arms.
"It's your choice. I won't tell them if you don't want me to."
The assurance was enough to ease at least some of the tension laced through Mallum's back, and he let out a sigh as he nodded into Hirsch's chest.
"I think... So long as you're vigilant," the jadeblood added slowly, "the how and why may not be important. There's no need to stress yourself. And if it is psychological warfare–"
"I can't let it get to me."
Hirsch drew back and held out Mallum's rapier.
"We can keep training," he offered softly, flashing his moirail a sympathetic smile, "so you feel more prepared."
#mallum writing#veylin writing#benjin writing#flashback + 1#gentle riposte#writing#guest star!#zurven#hirsch#had to get this one outta my BRIAN#my brain even
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(Psst! This write happened first!)
(And this one's happening beside it!)
Learned Behavior
“Benjin?”
Veylin’s gentle voice dips into the room at a volume somehow even softer than usual. Her melodic tone is laced with sympathy, and the sound of it twists Benjin’s stomach into knots. Does he really deserve that right now?
He casts his eyes to the floor as she joins him on the bed, smoothing her skirt as she sits.
“You don’t need to be here,” he objects weakly. “You don’t need to subject yourself to… y’know.”
“I have felt worse.”
The reassurance lays heavy between them, neither of them willing to acknowledge the full weight of it. He knows she has. God, he knows. The guilt sits in his gut like a stone.
“I wanted to hit something,” Benjin admits, eyes trained blankly ahead and fingers laced together in his lap. “I felt… possessed.”
He feels her shoulder bump lightly against his own. His throat tightens.
“I wish I was possessed. I… I don’t want that to be me.”
“You are allowed to feel things, Benjin.”
Veylin’s movements are delicate as she reaches for him, angling to place one palm atop his tense and trembling hands.
“You shouldn’t–” he chokes, ripping his gaze from the floor and turning to his moirail just as her skin meets his. Barely a second has passed before her face is wash with tears, cheeks laden with round, heavy drops that roll to her chin in a procession of shimmering blue.
When Ben opens his mouth to apologize, Veylin simply shakes her head. “You are allowed to have feelings,” she tells him again, voice shockingly steady in light of the tremendous emotion he has inadvertently shared with her.
“I felt violent, V. I don’t know what…” he pauses. Swallows. Starts again. “Did it…”
The question has barely formed in his mind when it catches in his throat. He can’t bring himself to ask. He doesn’t know if he can live with the answer.
“No.” Veylin gives Benjin’s hand a squeeze, his tears still pouring from her eyes. “It did not feel the same.”
A dry sob tears itself from his throat, accompanied by the faintest of tremors as he tugs his hands free of hers to wipe haplessly at his eyes.
Though sweeps of conditioning have rendered his own face completely dry, he cannot stymie the pitiful whimper that tumbles from his lips as the empath sets her arms around him and lays a gentle caress upon his back.
“There is nothing about you that feels like him. Nothing.”
“I felt like him,” he mewls. “If I had given in… If I had done what my body was telling me to do…”
“You didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“And instead you chose to exit.”
Benjin buries his face in his hands, taking a shuddering breath and fighting to ignore the pressure mounting in the bridge of his nose, hot and unnatural. “It scared me, V. It terrified me.”
She wraps herself around his arm, leaning softly against his shoulder. “I know this is rather rich coming from me… But you cannot expect to control your emotions. Only what they drive you to do.”
Her palm finds its way to his cheek, and she turns his head to face her.
“Benjin… It is natural to learn from one’s environment. You spent sweeps––formative sweeps––watching anger become violence. That is what they taught you. That is what they wanted to teach you.”
His vision starts to blur, finally overcome with the mist that he has been fighting to prevent.
“But that is not all you learned,” Veylin continues. “You know what it is like to be subject to that violence. You know exactly how easy it is to make someone feel unsafe, or frightened, or small. You know as well as he does.”
Ben squeezes his eyes shut, another tearless whine bubbling from his chest.
“But he wants that. He wants to hurt, Benjin. That is the difference.”
Even with eyes closed, he can feel as a single tear looses itself from the corner of his eye and rolls slowly down his face. Veylin’s thumb brushes it away, and soon her lips are on his cheek.
“You are kind. He did not take that from you.”
“I’m scared, V. I’m so scared,” he squeaks, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “What was he thinking?”
Though he does little to indicate the shift in subject, his moirail has no trouble following along. She pauses briefly, considering her words with even greater care than usual. When she finally answers, there is a layer of guilt to her voice.
“He is scared too,” she admits quietly, almost pained to be breaking her cardinal rule regarding the sharing of other trolls’ emotions. “I… I do not believe he was hiding it, so much as… Hiding from it. The way I do.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing that disappears if we don’t look at it.”
“He knows. He is… embarrassed.” She averts her gaze, shoulders heavy with shame. “It is humiliating to make the wrong choices. Moreso to be confronted with them. But he knows.”
“I don’t want to be mad. I’m just… worried. If he can’t come to us… What about next time? What about when it really matters?”
“We are lucky to be faced with this now, then. If there is one thing Mallum has shown us, it is a capacity for change.”
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Battleship
Mallum finds Veylin in the kitchen, holding a kettle under the tap and watching it fill. She glances over her shoulder as he plods into the room, looking just long enough for him to notice the faint rings that crown her eyes.
She’s been crying.
Comfort has never been Mallum’s strong suit, a fact which he is made especially aware of as he languishes over what to say. Unsure how to address the elephant in the room he’s just discovered, he eventually opts to dance around it instead.
“Hey,” the seadweller nods, easing open the refrigerator and surveying its contents. He’ll keep it casual. “How’d it go?”
A noncommittal shrug is her only reply.
He sucks a breath through his teeth. “Bad, huh?”
Again, she shrugs, reuniting the kettle with its lid and placing it gingerly on the stove. Her hands, now free, begin to wring away their anxiety.
“I don’t know,” Veylin mumbles, suddenly immensely interested in the nail of her thumb, “I didn’t… say anything. I wasted her time.”
“That’s stupid,” Mallum snorts.
He lets the insult hang for a moment, cracking open a can of sparkling water and raising it to his lips. Veylin frowns, shrinking into herself at a comment that, to her, must seem like pointless cruelty.
“You went,” he says finally, nudging the fridge closed with his hip. “That’s the first hurdle down, how’s that a waste?”
Veylin presses her lips together, clearly unconvinced. Unable to face him, she turns away to rifle through the cupboard. Mallum sips his drink and waits, watching her deft, dainty hands sift about in search of, he assumes, a case of peppermint tea.
“I thought it would be easier,” she admits, voice only just audible.
She withdraws the box–yep, peppermint–and sets about readying her cup, each movement delicate and precise. It takes him a second to process her confession, but he rolls his eyes the moment the statement registers.
“What, you thought you could unlearn a lifelong coping mechanism in your very first session?”
It’s a tame comment, all things considered, but she shifts under the weight of it. It’s obvious she’s hurt, and the fact that he caused her discomfort twists in Mallum’s gut like a knife. Not exactly a pitch feeling, there.
“Seriously, Veylin,” he tries to backpedal, voice soft. “You don’t need to fix everything right away.”
“I don’t know how to fix it at all.”
“That’s the therapist’s job.”
No reply. Mallum’s never been one to shut up for any length of time, but something about her silence is contagious. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, a pantomime stammer to fill dead air as he grasps for something to say. There are so many things he wants to tell her. A mountain of miscellaneous contradictions, all as undecipherable as she is.
“It’s… It’s alright. To feel lost.” He swallows, eyes drifting for one fleeting moment across her lips. She raises her eyes to meet his, and at once the words are gone, lost to the depths of the deep blue saucers that flit across his face.
A crease finds its way onto her brow. “Is something bothering you?”
You, his mind seems to say, though there’s no malice behind it. The things you do to me.
Mallum shakes his head. He can’t say that. She searches his face, expression laced with concern, and already, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks.
I’m not myself around you, he thinks, but the person I become is better.
He croaks helplessly, words sticking in his throat and laying thick on his tongue. Veylin’s mouth purses slightly in confusion, a silent question hanging in the air.
You don’t fit in any of my boxes.
I hate myself for hurting you.
Nothing about you makes sense to me.
“I think I might have feelings for you.”
When his voice hits his ears, Mallum’s heart all but stops. Had he meant to say that one out loud?
Veylin blinks. Mallum opens his mouth to speak, leaping to withdraw the sentiment when she cuts in with a delighted giggle, laughter quickly replacing the lead that had settled on her shoulders.
Despite the blush blooming in his cheeks, it’s enough to return the air to his lungs.
“Mallum…” She cocks her head and fixes him with a warm smile, eyes twinkling. “You do.”
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Finally A Win
Threat number one: Redivi Duxile
Strength, heightened senses, and worst of all, the ability to cast someone out of their body in under a second. His nigh instantaneous suspension is nearly impossible to combat.
Nearly.
Countermeasure: Distraction. Kenshe’s wheelhouse. Duxile’s had a long time to perfect his powers, but they still take some effort on his part. His focus is the key. You just need to act fast.
Compared to him, the others are easier. There’s room for mistakes. Room to breathe, to think, to misstep and redirect.
Threat number two: Remora Ofidis
A highly skilled combatant, practically unstoppable in hand-to-hand. He’s known for his bloodthirsty rages, and few can escape him when he’s on a rampage.
But he won’t be on a rampage, will he?
Countermeasure: The simple fact that he won’t kill without permission. There’s only so much he can do when made to hold back.
He’s the least of your concerns.
Threat number three: Zerkev Pravus.
A brilliant tactician with a perfect record, lauded as one of the greatest military minds the fleet has ever seen. Quick on the battlefield and even quicker to think.
Everything you aim to be, but better.
Countermeasure? Easy.
Your father would never hurt you.
That’s the thing with you, isn’t it? You’ll never take on a challenge that poses any real threat to you. Every risk you take is calculated. Everything you do is self-serving. Every move you make is something that will help you.
And yet, the entire time you were ruminating on how to work Sonny into your escape plan, you never once entertained the idea of asking her to use her powers.
It wasn’t too difficult to factor her in anyways. She’s another piece to keep track of, sure, but she really didn’t change much in the end. You still plan on leaving quietly, before the moons rise. You still have it all worked out.
Best case scenario, you’ll have her and Kenshe out before any of the senior citizens have risen.
Worst case… Well, facing all three of them at once, you guess. But that seems unlikely.
It’s a simple mission in theory: Get the girls to their pick-up without being spotted, return just in time to gloat. You’re anticipating anger. Lots of anger. Decreased funds from your dad, most definitely. Might get banned from some events for a while, too. The closest one can get to grounding their adult child, shy of whatever the hell Redivi had going on with his missing kid.
You heard about it from Veylin. Asked her why she bothered putting herself on the map for a handful of strangers, why she threw away sweeps of hiding just to get three dudes out of Thorezille.
“Can I tell you a secret?” She had asked, hands folded in her lap. “I think… More than anything, I did it for me.”
You guess you can relate.
The sun is setting when you creep downstairs to test the doors. First the front, then the back. Two exit routes, both unobstructed and free of obstacles. No alarms, no motion sensors.
Slowly, you unlock the back door and turn the knob, opening it all the way to see if it creaks. Nope. Smooth as a whistle. Still, you don’t know just how good Duxile’s hearing is, and the handle clicks when it moves. Best to leave things unlatched, just in case.
You ease it just about closed, stopping right before the mechanisms can connect, and tiptoe back upstairs to get the girls.
Sonny’s face lights up when you rouse her from her slumber, eyes wide and shiny as she processes your presence. Not the usual reaction people have to seeing you, but you’re not complaining. She knows what this means. Knows there’s only one reason you’d be hanging over her, shaking her by the shoulder in the earliest hours of the night.
You help her out of bed and wake Veylin while Sonny gets ready to leave.
There’s not a single sound uttered between you as your party of three gathers at the top of the stairs. You only get one shot at this. You can’t risk screwing it up.
They both know what to expect. Veylin knows what you need her to do if one of the wardens shows up. You know she can handle Remora.
You hope she can handle Redivi.
With sword in hand, you lead the girls downstairs, where light steps and sealed lips take you all the way to the living room, your exit in sight. So far so good. It won’t be hard to evade Ofidis’ peacekeepers once you’re out of here. You nod at them both and approach the door.
A heavy dread settles in your gut as you draw near.
It’s closed.
You snap your head back around to scan the room, fist tightening around the hilt of your blade. Nothing else appears out of place. Could it have closed on its own? Some doors are designed to do that.
No use stressing. It will only make you sloppy.
“Kenshe,” you whisper, speaking as you turn to look at Veylin, “can you feel if anyone else is–”
When your eyes land on hers, there is nothing behind them. With a start, you whirl to look at Sonny, now standing with the same vacant expression at your side. You snap in front of her face, wave a hand past Kenshe’s. They’re completely catatonic.
Oh shit.
Your adrenaline spikes. He’s here. Hiding somewhere. Watching you.
And you didn’t even make it out the door.
With a deep breath, you straighten your posture and relax your shoulders, letting the panic roll off your back like water. Nibbling mindlessly at the side of your pinkie nail, you sweep the room again, calm as can be.
That seems enough to end his game of hide and seek.
“Mallum.” You snap your gaze towards Redivi as he reveals himself in the darkness of the living room, tone almost pitying as he allows his skin to come alight. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
You eye him warily, palm still curled tightly around the handle of your sword. You knew this was a possibility. That he might act faster than Veylin, might get the jump on you. What you couldn’t have predicted was being here to witness it. He could have cast you away just as easily as the other two.
So why didn’t he?
“Didn’t realize you’d be up,” you manage, voice low.
He doesn’t try to move any closer, eyes flitting to your weapon once before returning to your face. “I’d like to have a word with you.”
Oh.
You see it now.
You’re still one of them.
“Okay,” you say tersely. “We’re having words.”
"Mallum,” he says again, softly. “I understand you are upset. Will you talk to me about this? I want to help."
“Help?”
He glances at Veylin and Sonny, briefly, before his focus is back on you. You and your sword. He’s remaining cautious. “These actions did not come out of nowhere. I cannot help but feel that I hold some amount of the blame.”
Now that’s interesting.
Your face softens, more perplexed than hostile. You let your fins relax and loosen your grip ever so slightly, waiting for him to go on.
“You felt unappreciated.”
“I did.”
“Understandably so. We did not treat you with respect.”
So that’s the angle. He thinks he’s better off if you like him. He’s trying to talk it out with you, to show you the respect you so desperately craved.
When you don’t respond, he continues. “We have not been fair to you, Mallum.”
You know that one. Names don’t need to fall from Sonny’s mouth to invite trust in another. You’ve used this trick yourself. How many times will he say yours, you wonder.
“I’m sorry.”
You blink, breath stalling for a moment as the words leave his lips. You’re in the middle of betraying him, and he apologizes to you?
You slump your shoulders slightly, all your bravado withering away. That was all you wanted to hear. That was it. How hard would it have been?
You search his face for a moment, brows knitting together and fins folding in. His gaze is sympathetic, his posture relaxed. You drift closer to him, rapier all but falling from your fingers. You’re sure you look almost on the verge of tears.
How badly did you just want to be seen? To have your frustrations acknowledged? Look how kind he is. You’ve aligned yourself with the enemy, and still he extends a hand. Gracious indeed.
You ghost just a step closer, grimacing like you’re holding back a sob. He eyes you warily, still cautious, but he already knows he’s done it. He’s won you over, given you exactly what you needed to come crawling back onto their team. Just a little validation. That’s all it took. He’s too warm, too kind, too open to refuse.
You make to set the weapon down.
And then you lunge.
He makes a noise as you thrust the blade between his ribs, something between a cough and a cry, pained and wet. His hand closes around your wrist before you can draw back, nails digging into your flesh as something wild and furious flashes across his face.
“You are one manipulative fuck, aren’t you?”
He bares his fangs at you, and you catch a glimpse of something truly monstrous beneath the cracks in his veneer.
When he sees the fear in your eyes, his snarl twists into a grin.
It’s gone in a second, replaced by a gasp and a grimace as he releases your wrist to clutch at his head. You yank your sword out and he presses a hand to the wound, face contorted in pain.
His head.
You risk a glance over your shoulder to see Veylin with her eyes screwed shut and her palms pressing into her skull, shaking with the effort she’s employing. It’s working! You were right!
You dare to peek at your wrist and immediately toss your gaze away, stomach churning at the sight of your own blood. At least that stupid fear can be useful for once. Kenshe needs all the emotion she can get if she wants to keep Redivi too overwhelmed to work his illusions.
There are footsteps thundering down the stairs. So much for not facing all three of them at once. Should have knocked on wood.
Shockingly, Zerkev gets to you first, assessing the situation in all but a second. He glances at your injured wrist, then locks eyes with you, the gears turning in his head. Oh fuck.
He’s already coming at you, reaching for your arm. You know exactly what he’s planning to do. Get your blood in front of you, and you’ll be down for the count. You both know it.
Remora is close behind him, skidding to a halt just beside Redivi and looking around with bewildered rage. His growl is almost deafening when he sees the green blood dripping from your sword, and his entrance pulls your attention just long enough for Zerkev to get a hand around your forearm.
He grits his teeth, trying to wrestle it into your line of sight. No. No, this can’t be happening! This has to work. You need this plan to work.
“You really don't want to do that Zerkev! You have to check on Redivi first!” Sonny’s voice rings out behind you, forceful and desperate.
Like flipping a switch, he loosens his grip, giving you just the opening you need to get the fuck out of dodge. You toss Veylin over your shoulder, the cerulean still pumping the room’s emotions straight into Redivi’s skull, and throw the door open, barreling outside and tugging Sonny after you by the arm.
Remora is on you guys faster than you thought possible, grabbing Sonny’s wrist to pull her out of the way of you. She makes a noise when he does, drawing his attention for the briefest of moments. His gaze meets hers, and you’re almost certain you see him loosen his grip.
“Hey, Redtooth! Eye on me, pal. You wanna know how easily the sword went in?”
The fury that overtakes his features is almost bestial. You have no doubt he’s angling to sink those jagged teeth directly into your throat, and you’re not planning to stick around and let him. With his focus back on you, you take off running, hoping Sonny has enough sense to follow.
Behind you, a massive thud and a shout. “Remora, don’t!” Zerkev, doing exactly what you’d hoped he would.
Saving your life.
Well. Not exactly the clean escape you were hoping for, but it works. Redivi bleeding out on the carpet, Zerkev and Remora too occupied with their conflicting goals to work together.
The consequences for this might be a bit more severe than a canceled credit card. Hopefully the car has room for one more.
#long post#icarus arc#THE CLIMAX BABY!!!!!!#mallum ic#veylin ic#uhhhhh im not gonna bother tagging the baddies#guest star!#icarus curated#writing#mallum writing#veylin writing#zerkev writing#remora writing
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We Need to Talk
Veylin and her partners have become quite accustomed to the presence of their new hivemate over the past several weeks, and Mallum has likewise grown rather comfortable with them. With how easily she interacts with him, it’s almost hard to believe that he had wronged her so terribly when first they met. For her part, though, it was easy to forgive him. After all, she has been through far, far worse.
He moves through their home’s lower floor with the ease and confidence of someone who belongs there, but he has never breached into their territory upstairs. When he can’t locate someone he’s looking for, the seadweller typically opts to shout across the hive instead. Benjin seemed to see the action as entitled. Veylin thought it was his way of being respectful.
Now, though, it seems something else entirely.
“VEYLIN!”
There is an urgency in Mallum’s voice as he calls for her, and the empath need not use her powers to sense that something is amiss. She throws down her book and springs out of bed, padding to the edge of the stairs with slippers on her feet and a crease in her brow.
“Mallum?” He stands at the bottom of the stairwell, looking serious, and Veylin finds herself put off slightly by the severity of his expression. “What is it?”
“C’mere. We need to talk.” He sounds as stern as he looks, though she can sense worry pricking at the corners of his mind.
With a small nod, she tiptoes down the stairs and follows him to the living room, fiddling nervously with the front of her shirt. The hive is quiet, save for their footsteps, and she extends her powers outwards to search for her boys. They’re not here, which comes as a shock to the psychic. Not too long ago, both Zurven and Benjin would have adamantly refused to leave Mallum alone with her, even briefly. It seems they’re starting to trust him, however little they do.
“Sit down.” He orders her, arms crossed over his chest. To anyone else he might appear threatening, but where his actions spell anger, she can feel only concern.
When she does as instructed, he takes a seat on the coffee table, bracing his arms on his knees and staring into her eyes.
“Why aren’t you in therapy?”
Veylin’s breath catches in her throat, her eyes going wide as he asks so bluntly a question that everyone around her has been struggling to avoid. “I-I… I’m not… Ready to think about–”
“You’re lying to yourself.” He says, voice both delicate and sharp. “You don’t want to be ready. You want to bury it.”
She bites her trembling lip and swallows hard. “I… I just… Don’t want to think about it,” she squeaks guiltily.
“I know you don’t. I know, Veylin. That’s the fucking problem.” He pinches his nose and sighs, frustration swelling in his chest. “Someone needs to tell you to stop fucking running from this stuff, and apparently no one else here is enough of an asshole to do it.”
When he locks eyes with her again, she feels as though she’s on trial.
“Veylin,” he says her name again, softer this time, “you are not fucking well. Do you think people can’t see that? That we don’t hear you sobbing when you should be asleep, don’t jolt out of bed when you wake up screaming in the middle of the day?”
His tone, though harsh, is not unkind. Still, she shrinks under his scolding.
“You need help. Actual help. Not avoidance.”
In a move that borders on irony, she chooses that exact moment to avert her gaze, face awash with anxiety. “I just… Want to forget.”
“You can’t.”
Tears prick at her vision, and Veylin can feel her face grow flush. “I want to.”
Mallum takes her hand in his, flooding her senses with his own concern, yes, but also his certainty. He is more sure than she has ever felt in her life that she cannot go on like this. The psychic struggles not to cry, breath shallow and heavy.
“Veylin,” he says firmly. “You can’t.”
With that, what little strength she has crumbles away, and Veylin curls in on herself with a sob. She pulls her hand away from him to grip her head, shoulders wracking with each heaving cry that bubbles from her throat.
Mallum reacts quickly, moving to sit beside her on the couch and pull her into a strong embrace. He holds her quietly at first, letting her release the loudest of her buried feelings before he speaks again.
“You can’t undo it, Vey. You have to go through.”
#mallum ic#veylin ic#battleship#writing#hey guys who likes tough love#flashback + 1#mallum writing#veylin writing
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Rescue
They put your car somewhere when you arrived. A safety precaution, allegedly, though you doubt the goal was to protect anything other than the Gracious Provider’s complete control over the lives of his residents.
Unfortunately for him, you’re more than happy to exchange one vehicle for the freedom of three innocents. Styx is on his way with your ride.
Three innocents.
Just three.
What are you doing?
You expected that Gracious would not let you leave without a fight. It was only a matter of time before he noticed the boys’ absence, and escaping on foot put you at a serious disadvantage.
What you did not expect was for the patron’s army to be comprised entirely of one singular, smiling man.
They don’t anticipate much trouble from you. When they look at you, they see someone young. Mild, yet foolhardy. Inexperienced.
But that’s the thing.
You’re not inexperienced at all.
Harlan made sure of that.
She's just like you.
Faithful approaches with a wicked grin across his face, fins flared and tail lashing behind him. You don’t need your powers to know that he is utterly thrilled to be on your trail.
Though, there’s something else there too. Beneath the excitement. An indignant sort of rage, a righteous fury directed squarely at you.
You, who had the audacity to anger his love, the gall to take what belongs to them.
You, the only chance they have.
Time is of the essence.
You focus on the seadweller, on his malice and joy and hatred. Anything to ignore the fear coiling around your lungs. It’s a fear that isn’t yours, but it grips you all the same.
The horror manifests differently in each of the boys. Anger, heartbreak, and pure, unbridled terror. Each feeling swirls through your chest, and settles heavy in your gut, dread seeping all the way to your toes.
It isn’t yours.
But the guilt is. It twirls inside you, threatening to eat you alive. You left Soniel behind. Left her in that town, in Gracious’ clutches, all by herself. How could you? Even with the Marauder’s arrival imminent, surely there was some way to take her with you.
Desperately, you try to remind yourself that you didn’t have a choice. General Pravus is on his way here even now, and not even your fake surname could protect you from him. The man has wanted a Kenshe for decades. If he finds you here, he’ll have one.
Focus.
Marqez, Theoci, Hirsch, Remora. They are the ones here now. Four trolls surrounding you, four minds encroaching on your own. You feel them laid out before you, a blooming tapestry of emotion that ripples and waves with even the slightest shift in mood.
A tapestry woven of cords. So many little cords.
She was busy at work. There was no way to reach her in time. No way for her to leave without alerting Gracious to your movements. Of all the nights for him to be hovering around the schoolhouse… It was a perfect storm, everything lined up perfectly to bar Soniel’s escape.
Remora in front of you, the boys at your back. Focus on him. Focus ahead.
Theo wanted to stay behind. He couldn’t leave her, he said. Not again.
You explained that coming back to extract both him and Soniel would be too dangerous. For the best chance at getting all four of them to safety, you need to get these three out now.
Which means you first must get through Faithful.
As he draws closer, a soft, wheezing laugh claws its way out of his throat, eventually settling into a rough, rumbling growl that permeates your senses.
You raise your arms, shielding the boys behind you.
He raises his axe, letting out another harsh chuckle at your pointless display of bravado.
You will come back for Soniel.
But first, you must escape with these three.
You must survive the former General Redtooth.
You must keep your head.
You take a breath.
He readies the swing.
And then, with a sharp breath out…
You rip a cord from the tapestry.
And for the first time since you hatched with these powers, you render someone else completely numb.
Faithful’s smile drops, his arms soon following suit. The axe hits the ground with a thud, and his face melts into the perfect picture of serenity.
Without turning around, you back yourself into the boys, attention focused squarely on the seadweller and his feelings. You tug at his strings with an accuracy you didn’t know possible, head pounding with the effort.
Building anger. Keep it down.
Mounting frustration. Soothe that too.
Fear of failure. Can’t be helped.
He looks almost dazed, entranced by the unnatural calm you have woven into him. Your head is throbbing.
“Go…” You mutter, gripping Hirsch’s forearm for support. “Let’s go.”
The boys all but drag you, shivering with the effort of keeping Faithful’s tumultuous tide of emotions at bay.
Pull the cords. Focus. Focus. Just you and the cords.
As the distance between you and Remora grows, so too does the effort required to pacify him. You’re seeing spots. You hear words being spoken around you, but none can permeate your thoughts.
Rumbling. Faithful?
No.
An engine.
Then, a familiar voice.
With his Faithful Devotion little more than a red blotch on the horizon and Styx just within reach, you let go of the tension you’ve been holding, releasing Remora’s emotions and crumpling into the arms of your allies.
Just as you surrender to unconsciousness, you feel yourself being lifted by a pair of metal hands.
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Brainwashing
Sonny refused to tell you her surname, which told you everything you needed to know about her bloodline anyways. She’s a nobody, through and through. That, or she’s got something to hide, but you really can’t fathom that being the case.
She’s already slated to join Zerkev’s crew. What else is there to run from?
Of course, he won’t be leaving Thorezille until he can take Kenshe with him, but that hasn’t stopped him from putting Sonny’s power to good use. You can’t say it’s not logical– two birds and all that. It’s efficient. Evil! But efficient.
When he first decided to pit the psychics against each other, you’d pictured the women squirreled away in the brooding caverns, hidden in a labyrinth of darkness and stone, isolated and hopeless.
A dramatic image, sure, but you had to admit, it fit the tone. The whole plan just felt… Too insidious to watch it unfold in Redivi Duxile’s goddamn living room.
It’s a little awkward, frankly. Can’t a man get some granola without having to witness his father’s acts of psychological warfare along the way?
You leave the kitchen with your breakfast and hover at the edge of the room, staring past Zerkev to observe the women on the couch. Kenshe’s not having a great time, obviously, but Sonny? Sonny looks downright miserable.
“I know that… That Mar can be intimidating, Veylin.” She swallows thickly, voice wavering slightly as she speaks. “But I think… I think we should give him a chance, Vey.”
Kenshe tilts her head, saying nothing.
You take a seat in the corner and do your best to chew quietly. She really has a talent for shutting down, doesn’t she? Must be in the blood.
Sonny casts a glance at Zerkev, as if seeking approval. Yeah, you’ve been there. Good luck with that, Seafoam.
“Y-You know, Veylin, the last time Ducky left home, he… He really struggled.” Oh, she doesn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. “We all just want to keep him safe, Veylin. We’d like him to come home.”
“He is safe,” Kenshe smiles, giving Sonny’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“I’m… I’m glad, Veylin. But I… I’d feel a lot better if you could tell me where he is.” Sonny’s voice is tight, her eyes wet. You shovel another spoonful of yogurt into your mouth.
“Theo is with the people who kept me safe. They will not let him come to harm.”
Zerkev bristles. Not the answer he wanted.
It appears to come as a relief to Sonny, though, whose shoulders relax almost imperceptibly when her question is rebuffed. You’ve never seen someone rooting so fervently for their own failure before.
If your old man had asked you, you might have suggested a different approach: Have Sonny request that Kenshe calm her. Then start in on this brainwashing bull. A bit convoluted, maybe, but surely it’d work better than this.
You’ve felt Sonny’s powers at their best– It’s some potent shit, but it works a hell of a lot better when she means it. You should know. She definitely means it when she’s ordering you to leave them alone, to quit pestering them, to have a little sympathy. Jarring stuff.
Actually… If you were in Zerkev’s shoes, you’d have both women testing their abilities on you. How else could you figure out what you're working with? Maybe you’d build up some resistance to them in the process.
Of course, that’s what you’d suggest if Zerkev asked you. But he didn’t.
So fuck it! Let him flounder. The more he fails, the more time you have to get Veylin and Sonny out.
…
Veylin. To get Veylin out.
…
Kenshe. To get... Kenshe... Out.
Fuck.
Okay, so maybe you’ve been enjoying their company more than you’d care to admit. But could anyone really blame you? Just look at the alternative!
How anyone falls for that facade Duxile puts up is beyond you. The man is a certified freak. You’ve been watching him as you worked on your plan. You’ve analyzed his speech, familiarized yourself with his habits, tracked his behavior with a keen and critical eye.
The sicko’s getting drunk off her fear.
Sure holds a mirror up to you, doesn’t it? Is that who you want to be in a couple thousand sweeps?
You shake your head and look back at the women. Those powers really did a number on you, huh? You didn’t expect their effects to linger like this. It’s hard to believe they’re not affecting Veylin at all. Maybe some strange effect of their abilities intersecting?
You guess it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it won’t help you. The second Zerkev calls it a night, you’re asking Sonny how to get rid of this mindfuckery. You need a clear head now more than ever.
You’re going to act soon.
Duxile’s losing focus, and that’s exactly the opportunity you need. He’s gotten close to feeding on Sonny, you can tell. Hell, he might have done it by now if Ofidis weren’t around to draw his attention.
That’s one more ace up your sleeve– He may be devoted to Gracious first and foremost, but Ofidis likes Sonny. Enough to prick a finger when the parasite starts clicking, at least.
It’s almost freaky, the way Duxile snaps toward the scent of blood.
You’ve been trying not to think about what’ll happen to her once Kenshe’s back out of reach. Nothing good, obviously. But you’re getting ahead of yourself; there’s no point thinking about your departure while your head’s mucked up.
Lucky for you, Zerkev looks just about finished.
#writing#mallum ic#veylin ic#zerkev pravus#the marauder#guest star!#icarus arc#icarus curated#:)#mallum writing#veylin writing#zerkev writing#sonny
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Change of Plans
You can’t fathom why anyone would choose to spend their time in Thorezille, protected or not. The place is faker than your sister, and that’s saying something.
The people here seem happy enough, and genuinely so, but something about the entire atmosphere just feels… Manufactured to you. Like a theme park. You’re half expecting to spot some jackass in a mascot suit as you travel down the street.
Kenshe remains silent beside you, putting up no fight as you pull her by the shoulders towards the Gracious Provider’s hive.
Where your father is staying, a surprisingly helpful purpleblood had told you when you arrived, brazenly displaying a pair of shimmering wings that sprouted from her back.
It’s a wonder Kiyana hasn’t already been issued a preemptive ban from this town.
The mutant had advised you not to bother the patron in his home. He’s having a meeting of some kind, she said, an important matter best kept between family.
Well pull up a chair, Duxile, cause here comes grandson.
You enter without knocking, less out of arrogance and more from the genuine excitement clouding your judgment.
You’re here.
You did it.
And as you burst in on three of the most powerful men in Alternian history, each of their heads turning towards the entrance, it feels like the entire world is looking at you.
Ofidis nearly reaches for his axe when you come galavanting through the door, but he stops short when his gaze falls upon your sign, your horns, your face. Not a threat.
You barely register his movements anyway, your own eyes trained squarely on Zerkev.
He’s barely surprised long enough to notice, the shock of your intrusion quickly replaced by irritation. You can practically hear him in your head. Look at your behavior! The audacity, to do this here of all places, and–
His eyes widen.
He sees her, and a whole new breed of surprise bubbles to the surface. He can’t believe his eyes. Surely you didn’t. Surely you couldn’t!
Instantly, Zerkev’s attention is back on you. He looks appreciative. Hell, he looks impressed! When his eyes meet yours, they are alight with something you swear must be pride.
Then Gracious rises to his feet, and all at once, that warmth is gone, vanished before you even had a chance to bask in it. Your own face must look dumbfounded. What happened? Where did it go? How could you fail?
Zerkev’s jaw tightens, frustration rolling over him like a wave. He opens his mouth, and then–
“Mallum. To think this is the first we’ve met.”
Your gaze snaps to Duxile, his gentle eyes masking something sharp and dangerous. You glance at your own father, then back at his, a pit already forming in your stomach. Still, you smile.
“Gracious. It’s an honor.”
Kenshe’s shoulder grazes yours as she shifts her weight, wincing at something only she can feel. The patron regards you thoughtfully, his expression pleasant.
“A shame that it has taken this long.”
You shrug lightly and shoot him one of your most charming smiles. “Youthful frivolity. It’s a full-time job.”
Zerkev clears his throat, clearly displeased with your flippant humor. You straighten your jacket and keep on grinning.
Tough shit, old man. You’re funny.
Duxile seems to agree, giving you a polite laugh and a warm smile.
It’d feel nice if it weren’t so artificial.
“How lucky for us, then, that you made time to visit tonight.”
Kenshe fidgets again, and you’re suddenly struck by how strange it is that no one has addressed her yet. Talk about an elephant in the room. What gives? You glance at her, now staring blankly at the wall with a veil of fog obscuring any light behind her eyes. She looks like a ghost. Yeesh.
The shift in your attention takes the conversation with it, as Duxile finally responds to her presence. “Thank you, Mallum, for bringing her here. It is important to me that we track down those who she has taken.”
“...Right.” You both turn your eyes towards your father, who looks about ready to break something. “Zerkev?”
The patron barrels on, now speaking to him. “Her recruitment can wait until Theoci is returned home.”
“Hang on–” You interject, looking between the men.
Zerkev raises a palm to you, not even glancing your direction. “Of course,” he grits.
“What? No! That’s not-”
“Mallum.”
“Dad, you can’t just–”
“Mallum.”
“This is bullshit!”
Zerkev shoots out of his seat, slamming his hands on the table in front of him. “MALLUM. OUTSIDE. NOW.”
You jump, startled by his sudden intensity, and swing your gaze helplessly around the room, searching fruitlessly for anyone who may take your side. No luck, obviously.
Your father storms past you and out the door, cape floating on the air behind him. With no other option, you clench your fists and follow. He’s waiting for you just outside, face stern and arms crossed.
“Why are you letting him take her?” You demand, gesturing back towards the hive.
He ignores your question, instead hitting you with one of his own. “What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry? What was I thinking? I found Kenshe. I subdued her–”
“And you brought her here? To a town you have never set foot in, where you know nothing of how things are run–”
“I brought her to you!”
“You should have called me. You are always acting on impulse! Now look where it’s gotten you.”
“Just tell him no!” You exclaim, exasperated. “He can’t just hold her here!”
“He can. Now that she is here? It is a given,” Zerkev hisses, his disappointment crashing over you like a wave, knocking the air from your lungs.
“What then?” Your voice is small. Smaller than you’d like. You clear your throat and try again, more brazen this time. “You’re just gonna roll over and let him tell you what to do?”
“Are you really so comfortable disrespecting your own parents–”
“I don’t disrespect Marina.”
“–that you expect the same of me?”
“What are you talking about?” You balk at him. “He just disrespected you! Us! Me!”
“Drop it,” he warns, voice low. “You made this bed. Do not whine when you are made to lie in it.”
“This isn’t fair,” you peep.
“No, Mallum. It is not.” He turns around and marches back inside, stopping only to shoot you another stern look over his shoulder. “If you choose to rejoin us, I expect you to act your age.”
You stare after him, utterly baffled, breathing heavily as you struggle to quell your rage. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it was meant to go. You force your fingers to unfurl, releasing fists you didn’t know you were clenching.
No.
No!
Let the old bastard catch her himself if he wants her so bad! None of this would have happened without you. It was your charm, your mind, your plan. Who are they to take it from you?
Fuck it. You’re not going to take this sitting down. No, you’re gonna make them sorry. You’re gonna send those geezers back to square one.
Redivi Duxile stole your win.
You’re going to steal her back.
#mallum ic#veylin ic#writing#icarus arc#icarus curated#the marauder#zerkev pravus#remora ic#(briefly jhbkkj)#(the man had one mention and then became a lamp)#ANYWAYS!!!! FINALLY#OTL#this does not feel like my best work but in my defense. acid in my lung.#BUT WHATEVER PUMPS MY FISTS#THIS IS THE STORY BEAT I WAS FUCKIN WAITING FOR ENJOY UR MALLUM EVERYONE#mallum writing#veylin writing#remora writing#zerkev writing
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Biding Time
Glee.
Your head is pounding, and your eyelids feel like lead. Blearily, you force them open, and after a few tries, you manage to keep them that way.
The sudden light makes you squint, and you give your vision a moment to adjust.
Pride.
Your body is aching, muscles stiff and sore. The surface beneath you is soft and plush, moving ever so slightly as you shift. Cushions. A couch.
You imagine it would be rather comfortable, were it not for the agony your limbs are facing. You try to move your arms, but find them stuck behind you. Rope. A quick glance down reveals that your legs have been bound as well, ankles and knees lashed together.
Anticipation.
A door clicks shut somewhere nearby. You can hear footsteps drawing closer. A voice. Familiar.
You’re still struggling to catch your bearings when the speaker rounds the corner, singing some nonsense tune to himself as he enters your line of sight. Mallum. The memory comes to you at once.
It seems the Pravus boy didn’t fall as far from the tree as you had assumed
He’s busy peering at his phone, though he does lift his gaze for a brief moment to glance in your direction.
He looks back down, just as briefly, before doing a double take and lifting his head to face you. The moment you lock eyes, a wide smile spreads across the seadweller’s face.
“Kenshe! How’s it going?”
You fix him with a burning stare, less than amused by his jovial tone. He almost looks like a different person without his golden crown and gelled back hair, but that charming grin is just the same.
When you don’t answer him, Mallum shrugs and returns to his phone, ambling into whatever room is behind the couch you’ve been placed upon. His movement is accompanied by the faint clinking of dishes, though both sounds are all but drowned out by the unintelligible song he’s picked back up in lieu of conversing with you.
After a few seconds, the fuchsia reappears with a glass of water in hand, dropping a plastic straw into the cup with a flourish. Then, he crouches in front of you, holding the glass near your face and shooting you another cocky smile.
You eye him suspiciously, though the look is mostly for show. Were there any deception at play here, you would be able to sense it. Except… No. You wouldn’t, would you? He’s already fooled you once.
Mallum appears unfazed by your scrutiny.
Without a word, you give in and close your lips around the straw, taking several large gulps of water before he pulls the cup away.
“Woah, hey, not too much. Can’t say I know why exactly, but, eh.” He shrugs, turning to set the drink on the coffee table beside him. “They’re always doing this in movies, so there’s gotta be some truth to it, right?”
A quiet glare is your only response.
“What, not familiar? You didn’t get streaming up in the north pole?” He raises an eyebrow. “No movie nights at Mahkir’s haunted mansion?”
You take a shuddering breath and sit up, muscles tensed and brow furrowed as he harkens back to your time in Harlan’s compound.
“How-”
Humor.
He’s amused by your reaction. Knew his reference would catch you off guard. “You alright there, Kenshe? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Another shaky inhale earns you a patronizing pat on the head.
“Hey, relax. I didn’t take you for his sake.”
His assurance offers some relief, though you’re not pleased by that fact.
“Actually,” he continues, rising to his feet, “I should probably introduce myself proper.” Another toothy grin.
He didn’t look nearly this smug in the coffee shop.
He puffs out his chest and waves a hand towards himself, clearly delighted with the truth he's about to unveil to you. “Mallum-“
“Pravus. I know who you are.” Your voice sounds rough in your ears.
Mallum is taken aback, his cocky grin quickly replaced by confusion. The way his surprise plays across his features brings you just a twinge of satisfaction.
“You- What?” He asks incredulously, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. “This whole time?”
You nod.
He furrows his brow, expression softening. “Then why-”
“I was not aware our ancestors’ conflict was hereditary.” You swallow thickly, glaring at him through your lashes. “Pardon me for looking past your blood.”
“Oh, well, Kenshe,” he sneers, “blood is everything.”
You elect not to respond, squaring your jaw slightly and pulling your gaze away from him to focus it pointedly on the air in front of you.
“Okay,” Mallum says slowly, his tone laced with appreciation and his smile audible. He takes a few steps over, back into your line of sight, and appraises you with a thoughtful grin. “I think I get it now.”
You say nothing.
“Yeah… Yeah alright, I can see you going up against Ofidis.” He seems almost giddy. “You’re not as meek as you look, are you Kenshe?”
You continue to ice him, staring calmly ahead with your eyes focused on the arm of the sofa.
“Hey, it’s a win-win for me,” he flashes you another charming smile and glances at his phone. “That’s gonna drive Zerkev crazy.”
That gets your attention.
You jerk your gaze back to your captor, blood draining from your face. A dull horror washes over you, dreadful, surreal, and terribly cold. Zerkev.
He’s going to turn you over to the Marauder.
Mallum watches your fear set in with an angled head and a cool expression, his relaxed posture standing in stark contrast to your own tensed muscles.
There’s a beat of silence, long and heavy, before you swallow dryly and try to speak, ignoring the ache in your throat.
“Why?”
It’s all you can manage to choke out.
He fixes you with a look that almost resembles pity, his wry smile softening. It’s convincing. You might even buy it, were it not for the playful glint in his eye and the warm pride rolling through him.
“Honestly? I just needed a win. The fact that it’s you…” He shrugs, exhaling through his nose. “It just came down to timing. I’d say I’m sorry, but…”
“You’re not.”
“No. No, I’m, uh. I’m actually rather pleased with myself.” Another coy smile. “I mean, you’ve gotta admit, I played smart,” he says, a slight chuckle floating atop his words.
A pointed stare is your only response.
“Aw, don’t be a sore loser, now! Not a good look,” Mallum tuts, feigning disappointment for a brief moment before good humor overtakes him once more.
He strides back to the couch and plops down next to you, spreading his arms across the backrest and tossing his head back with a sigh, releasing what little tension he carries.
“Y’know… I really thought this was gonna require more work.”
You, predictably, do not respond, simply turning at the waist in an attempt to close yourself off from him.
Mallum ignores the hint—deliberately, you’re sure—and sits back up to throw an arm over your shoulders, fingers brushing your scar through the fabric of your shirt. You stiffen, and he pulls you into his side.
“I say we commemorate the occasion.”
He lifts two fingers off of you in a casual peace sign and raises his phone with the other hand, pressing his cheek against yours and grinning into the camera.
“Sayyy Kenshe!”
You stare blankly at your own image on the screen. You look haggard. Small.
The camera shutter clicks.
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New Friend - Part 2 (Pravus)
(Start with Part 1!)
You recognized his sign. Of course you recognized his sign. Of all the trolls your ancestor warned you against, none frightened her more than the Marauder. Zerkev Pravus.
His name was littered throughout her journals, etched into her history.
His sign was scribbled on countless pages, lines shaky and afraid.
Even when the tone of her writing changed, when her emotions were no longer hers to keep, one thing remained constant: Ofelia Kenshe did not want that man anywhere near her descendant.
And now you’re on a stroll with his.
You were nervous when Mallum approached you. How could you not be? But you felt no malice coming from him, and you know malice well.
No, the only thing Mallum felt was soft, aching loneliness. A yearning need for attention, approval, acceptance. He isn't seeking to hurt you. He isn’t his ancestor. Just like Benjin, just like Zurven, and just like you, Mallum Pravus deserves to be seen beyond his lineage.
“Anyone in there?” Mallum asks, waving a hand past your eyes.
You blink, pulling yourself from your thoughts and giving him a small, sheepish laugh. “Ah…” You tilt your head slightly and raise a finger to your chin, face flushing. “Sorry. I was thinking about something.”
“Oh?” He flashes you a toothy grin. “Caegar for your thoughts?”
You shake your head. “I’m afraid I must keep you guessing. If I give away all my secrets, I won’t have any mystique left to entice you with.” You raise your tea to your lips, smiling into your cup.
“Ha! Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
“No,” you hum. “We most certainly cannot.”
This is nice. Meeting new people, making new friends. You never imagined that this could be your life.
Though Mallum invited you out for a tour, it really isn’t much of one. The city is little more than a backdrop for your conversation, but you can’t say you mind. That was never really the point of this, was it? People like to find excuses to spend time with others. So silly. So fun! You love this.
Mallum thrusts his hands into his pockets, gaze sweeping across the street with an alertness it almost seems he’s trying to hide. It reminds you of yourself. Of Benjin and Zurven too.
You feel a pang of sympathy towards the seadweller. What is he watching for, you wonder? He doesn’t feel worried, but you can’t fathom another reason we would be standing at such straight attention. You take it upon yourself to break the silence and pull his focus back to you.
“It’s a shame you can’t see the stars from here. All the lights…”
Mallum looks up, humming in acknowledgement. “Huh. Never really noticed.” He scans the sky for a moment and clicks the side of his tongue. “Looks like it might rain.”
“Does it?”
He leans over, lowering his fins to hold his face beside your own and look up from a perspective close to yours. You feel one of his hands settle ok the small of your back, the other rising to point into the sky.
“Big cloud, right there. You see it?”
“Ah… Um. Maybe?” You can smell his cologne. It’s nice. Subtle. You think Benjin would like it. Zurven would like it on Benjin. You giggle at the thought.
Mallum pulls back, raising an eyebrow. You wave a hand, still smiling to yourself. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”
He shrugs in response, placing his hands back into his pockets and cocking his head at you. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. Just busy falling prey to your fabulous mystique.” He flashes you a shining smile.
You giggle again, this time at him. “It’s working isn’t it? I’m intriguing!”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Very.” He places a hand on the back of your arm, cupping your elbow and guiding you towards a nearby awning. “Even more so if I’m not busy worrying about the rain. Here, let’s get under cover.”
You let him lead you, but pull away slowly as you do, trying to make the movement look as natural as possible. He’s rather handsy isn’t he? You suppose it’s alright. This sort of brief, subtle touch won’t create an emotional link, especially with your clothing in the way.
Still, you’ll speak up if it happens again. You doubt he’s even noticed that he’s doing it.
As you come to a standstill beneath the awning, Mallum drifts away and leans against the building that holds it, once again fixing you with a razor-edged smile.
“So, miss Veylin, may I ask what sort of things you do for fun?”
“Ah! Of course!” The lights are off in the shop behind him. The street is really quite empty here. “Um… I have always enjoyed ice sculpture! Though I’ve been doing far less of it since moving here.”
He nods along, listening to you speak with rapt attention. The way he looks at you, it’s as if you’re the most important person on the face of the planet. Like there’s nowhere he'd rather be than this small, empty street, illuminated only by the flickering lamps and the scant moonlight peeking through the gathering storm.
You hardly noticed the crowds melt away. How long have you been in such a quiet area?
“And… I quite like poetry. Epics especially. They’re so… Grand. And eloquent! Yet… Relatable. Even to a former recluse like myself.” You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
Mallum’s gaze is warm. Even as you pause, he doesn’t speak, waiting to see if you have any more to add.
“And, um… Stargazing. I’m quite fond of the stars.”
“I should have guessed. You mentioned the light pollution here. How it blocked them out.”
You can feel your face flush. You’re not sure why. The fact that he was listening to you so actively? It’s a silly thing to be pleased by. That’s how conversation works.
“Right… I did.”
He pushes off the wall and claps his hands, fins flaring upwards. “Hey, I’m planning to meet a friend down by the beach pretty soon. Why don’t you join me? Great view of the stars down there.”
He’s excited. You’re sorry to disappoint him.
“Ah… I don’t think I should. I’d… Hate to encroach.”
A twinge of annoyance. He doesn’t show it outwardly. “You sure? I know she wouldn’t mind.” He cocks his head at you, furrowing his brow.
He wants to seem as though he’s taking your excuse at face value. But then… Why the irritation when you turned him down?
Your gut twists. Something isn’t right. You throw your gaze across the empty street, dread creeping into your chest. Why is it so empty? Why did he take you here?
You take a small step back, offering him a timid smile. “I should start back. Before the rain begins.”
“Ah. Good call. I’ll walk you.”
“Do you have the time? You have to meet your friend, don’t you?”
He waves a hand, taking a step towards you. “She’ll live. I’d rather make sure you get back safe.”
You swallow, forcing your shoulders to relax. He has no malicious intent. Why were you letting yourself get so worked up? If anything, he’s too friendly. A bit overeager. But you expected that-- You felt the waves of desperation rolling off of him from the start. You already noted his loneliness, his insecurity.
You give him a shy grin and a ginger nod. “I… Appreciate it. Thank you.”
He beams, offering you his arm. “Least I can do after dragging you all this way.”
You had resolved to speak up the next time he tried to touch you, but… Well, this isn’t quite the same, is it? He’s not imposing on you. You can choose whether or not to accept. For a moment, you hesitate. Then you fix him with another soft smile and reach for his arm.
Relief.
Mallum’s smile drops, expression shifting into one of calm, focused determination. He pivots, catching your wrist with one hand and giving it a harsh tug that sends you stumbling into his chest.
Releasing a startled cry, you shove at him with your free hand, eyes growing wide.
The ensuing scuffle doesn’t last long. When you wrench yourself away, he yanks you back by the hair and twists an arm behind your back. You thrash against him as his other arm settles around your throat.
You hiccup, clawing at his forearm. His emotions haven’t changed. Where is the malice? You need to numb him. But what’s driving this? What do you target?
The yearning? The loneliness? Determination. Start with the determination.
You need to calm down if you want to calm him. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths.
…
You can’t.
You can’t breathe.
You dig your nails into his wrist, a frightened whine climbing from your throat.
Mallum grunts, pressing harder against your windpipe. “Sorry, Kenshe. Nothing against you.”
Your vision starts to blur. Your chest aches, and your head is growing fuzzy. Air. Air.
His voice sounds like it’s underwater. You can barely hear what he says as at last your consciousness slips away.
“Any other name and we might have been friends.”
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Familiar
Your trip was only meant to take a few days.
It’s been a week.
You know your boys are worried sick--everyone in Ilioneus must be--but once you leave Thorezille, you won’t be able to return. At least, not with any immediacy, provided you want to remain inconspicuous.
You’re not so naive as to be unaware of the risk you’re taking just being here. Gracious doesn’t just work with the Marauder, he raised him. Every second you spend in this town is a danger.
And you have a sneaking suspicion that you’re not the only one who feels that way.
You’ve spent this past week observing the patron and his interactions with the grub handlers, and there are two trolls in particular who have managed to catch your eye.
You noted the first upon your immediate arrival, his tangled mass of emotions boring into you like a drill. ‘Conflicted’ doesn’t even begin to describe what the little jadeblood is going through, and your attempts at sorting through his feelings have resulted in little headway and lots of headaches.
The second might be an easier place to start. His is a concoction of fear and frustration that you are all too familiar with.
So, so familiar.
Like mornings spent cradling each other in your shared prison, each of you wishing desperately that you could fight back, get out, do more than lie down and take it.
Like nights spent trapped, holding someone to your chest and trembling as you both try in vain to tune out the endless onslaught of organ music drifting down the hall.
Like watching, powerless, as someone hurts the ones you love. As you wait to be hurt too.
Snapping back to the present, you find yourself blinking back tears, gripping your scarred shoulder through the fabric of your shirt. You are still in Thorezille.
There are people here who need help.
People who need you.
It's time to break the ice.
#veylin ic#writing#icarus arc#ic musings#(kinda? idk there's no action happening lol)#icarus curated#veylin writing
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