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#wasn’t neen supposed come in or something ?
jazzythursday · 10 days
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Hi!
Your writing is so beautiful! Your characterizations of Wylan and Jesper are incredible in your oneshots and especially in Everyday, Just a Little or a Little Bit. Seriously, I think about that fic all the time. It's perfect. Sweet and angsty, domestic and wholesome. Are you interested in writing more for Wesper? Do you have any more ideas or WIPs that you'd like to write?
-sixofcrowdaydreams
I’m crying? This is incredibly sweet thank you so much 🥹💖
Wesper and the crows literally got me through the last year and are still my main source of serotonin atm so I promise I’m not even close to done writing about them yet!
I also think about Everyday… every day lol, I really do. I have a handful of offshoots and bonus scenes from that fic I still want to write/finish (Jesper’s pov of a few moments, his talk with Nina after Wylan leaves in ch3, so much with the bookseller from ch1 etc), along with a few wips and a giant list of ideas I haven’t even started.
Currently I’m working on my gift for an exchange we have going over on the @i-can-read-to-him server (which is becoming both incredibly stressful but also so so exciting with every scene I write) I wish I could talk about it but it’s a surprise™️ for the moment. It will hopefully be ready to start posting next week!
Until then, here's a snippet from one of the bonus scenes in Everyday. It's from the part in ch2 where Jesper comes back to the Slat after being jumped by debt collectors. (Fun fact: the original scene was supposed to be this version, but when I actually went to write it it was feeling too clunky with the rest of the chapter, so I changed it to the posted version)
Wylan wakes up alone one morning. 
He knows, immediately, that something is wrong. The only disturbance of the covers has been made by himself; the other side of the bed is untouched, except for where his hand had landed on Jesper's pillow during the night. The rest is left unruffled and empty.
He hadn’t come back.  Jesper had been sent on a job the night before that hadn’t needed a demo man. Wylan told him he’d wait up, and Jesper told him he didn’t need to. Wylan had planned to wait up anyway. 
Apparently, it hadn’t worked. Wylan does not remember falling asleep, and yet it’s undeniably morning now. Still early enough that the sun isn’t quite peeking through the curtains, but he can tell it will soon.
He tries not to get worked up. He gets worked up anyway. No matter how much he tries to rationalise it, there is a deep pit growing in his stomach, convincing him that something is very wrong. He gets out of bed and leaves the room. He doesn’t bother with boots, just creeps down the hall in his socks.  It doesn’t take long to hear voices. They filter out from Kaz’s office, freezing Wylan in place.  “You still might need a medik,” he hears—Nina’s voice. She sounds tired. “How many times do I have to tell you two I wasn’t trained for proper healing?” 
“You're doing fine.” Jesper. Jesper’s voice. He sounds… dim is the only way Wylan can think to describe it. Tinny. Like the rich, mellow timbre of his words have been syphoned off into something thinner. He coughs wetly. “Gold stars all around Neens, really.” 
“I’m not above knocking you out, you know,” Nina says, but even without being in the room he can tell there’s no real threat in it. It’s soft, fond, and concerned.
Wylan’s heart feels like it’s detached from his chest. Like it’s somewhere else entirely, and wherever that is, someones squeezing it very tightly. He walks closer, almost hovering outside the threshold. He places a hand on the knob. 
It’s been a very long time since Wylan has felt out of place with the Crows, but as he opens the office door, he cannot help but feel—not unwelcome, but uninvited, and left out of the loop.
Unnecessary, his mind supplies, and he tries very, very hard not to give it a chance to amend, worthless. 
He balls up the cuffs of his shirt—it’s one of Jesper’s, though Wylan can’t remember when he’d taken it up as his own. Long enough that it doesn’t smell like Jesper anymore, just Wylan, which is a tragedy—and casts a look around the room, feeling awkward and out of place and comparatively underdressed in only his sleep clothes and socks. 
Kaz looks as he always does, except worse. His hair is falling uncharacteristically messy over his face. He turns sharply from where he’d been facing the window when Wylan enters, eyes even darker than usual.
Nina looks worried, a deep weighty frown on her face as her hands press against Jesper’s abdomen. 
And Jesper looks— 
“What happened?” Wylan balks.  Everyone is staring at him now, and Wylan hates it, hates this, but it all pales in comparison to the awful feeling tearing itself through his chest at the sight of Jesper, Jesper’s face—
“Jes—” Wylan’s voice breaks.  
“I’m fine,” Jesper assures quickly. Nina scoffs. She takes her hands away from Jesper’s stomach to cross them over her chest. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine!”
“You’ll be fine when I say you’ll be fine,” Nina mutters.  
Jesper tries to smile at Wylan, tries to give him a surreptitious thumbs up with the hand farthest from Nina, tries to wink of all things. It doesn’t make Wylan feel any better. It also looks like it hurts, because both Jesper’s eyes are puffy and red, and the side of his face sports an angry mark that’s still bleeding sluggishly from his eyebrow. His jaw looks sort of swollen too, and he grimaces at his own smile, so it must hurt.
Looking at it makes Wylan want to cry, so instead he looks at Kaz. 
“What happened?” he asks again, very quietly. 
“Debt collectors. And an idiot.”
“Kaz!” Jesper protests. Kaz shoots him a glare that pierces slightly duller than usual, which makes Wylan worry even more. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Jesper tries again. 
Wylan doesn’t respond. He keeps looking at Kaz. 
Kaz sighs. He sweeps his hair back in its usual style and pushes up from the window. “He’ll be fine. It’s not good, but nothing with debt collectors ever is. I’m working on it.”
This ask was such a lovely thing to read on a very tough day, so again, ty 🥰
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ollieofthebeholder · 11 months
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] || Also on AO3
Chapter 14: December 2005
Something’s wrong and Gerard knows it.
In all fairness, it’s pretty obvious. Martin’s name wasn’t even on the program, let alone him not being at the concert, and the place they’ve lived since the wedding is currently occupied by two yuppies and a Doberman. But even beyond that, Gerard just has a…sense that something is off.
The trouble is that he doesn’t know what he can do about it. Or how to fix it.
He’s tried everything he can think of…well, almost everything. He’s checked the phone book, but it still lists their old address; he’s tried asking at a few places, but none of the people there have seen Liliana or Roger; he’s wandered aimlessly around London, but that was always going to be a shot in the dark. He’s even taken his life into his hands and gone to the Magnus Institute to see about trading a statement for an address, but the Archivist and two of her assistants were out, leaving only a too-eager young man who, somehow, doesn’t seem to have the faintest idea of what he’s in the middle of. Gerard doesn’t have the heart to clue him in, despite his personal feelings on people being involved in this shit without their knowledge or consent, so he writes out a “statement” he’s pretty sure he cribbed from a pub song and pretends not to understand when the guy turns fuchsia after an awkward, fumbling attempt at flirting.
He’s cute, actually, and doesn’t look like he’s much older than Gerard, but since he doesn’t intend to stay in London longer than it takes to collect his brother and sister, he won’t be using the number scrawled on the back of the business card.
There is one other option, Gerard supposes, but he doesn’t want to do it. At all. If he walks back into his mother’s shop, she’ll have him again. And he’s got away. He doesn’t have to be in London anymore. Yes, the world is full of ignorance and stupidity and fear and people doing awful and terrible and thoughtless things in the face of it, but it is also full of fresh bread and comfortable armchairs and art museums and brightly-colored poisonous frogs. And he can see it, he can experience it all for himself, and maybe he can finally get a job he wants instead of running errands for his mother. He can be an artist, or a photographer, or a journalist. He can become a train porter or a flight attendant or a steward on a cruise ship. He can be a homeless drifter and get by on the kindness of others. He can fuck off to the Eurasian Steppes and live in a yurt. Anything is possible, as long as he stays away from Pinhole Books.
He sighs and looks at the business card again. Gods above, the guy drew a winking face in the tail of the Y in his last name, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. Gerard should just throw it away, but instead, he tucks it into the back of his pack of Woodbines, shakes one out, and cups a hand around the end to light it.
“Those things’ll kill you, you know.”
Gerard almost swallows the cigarette. He whirls around to see Melanie standing a couple feet away, hands on her hips, denim jacket open enough to expose the college logo on her sweatshirt and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Neens!” Gerard drops the cigarette and barely remembers to grind it out with a heel before he steps forward, arms outspread for a hug. Melanie practically leaps at him, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly pulling him over. “What are you doing here?”
“Could ask you the same thing. I thought you were gone for good.” Melanie drops to the ground and looks up at him accusingly. “Aunt Mary said you’d said you weren’t coming back.”
“I’m not staying. I just came to visit.” Gerard looks Melanie up and down. “Came to see you and Martin. I figured you’d be home for the holidays.”
A strange look comes over Melanie’s eyes. “Yeah. Home for the holidays.”
Anxiety tugs at Gerard. That sense of wrong flares up again, and he studies Melanie again. “What’s wrong? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”
“No, but—” Melanie breaks off and lifts a hand. “Hey. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Gerard turns around and grins. “Hey, Martin.”
“Gerry?” Martin looks dumbfounded. He’s wearing a jumper Gerard can tell he knitted himself—mostly because he bought him the wool last Christmas—over a button-up and a pair of khakis, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s made a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair that doesn’t suit him. “I—y-you were supposed to be gone, I thought you finally got away!”
“You didn’t think I was going to miss spending Christmas with you two, did you?” Gerard steps forward and hugs Martin tightly; Martin hugs him back, maybe a little desperately.
“If you go back to that shop, she won’t let you leave,” Martin mumbles in his ear.
“Yeah, that wasn’t my plan.” Gerard releases Martin and steps back.
Melanie comes forward to give Martin a hug, too. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. How are…things?”
“Okay. Dad’s having a better day. I fixed dinner for him and Lily and said we were going to go skating at the National History Museum.” Melanie shrugs. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but at least it means they aren’t expecting us home for a bit.”
Gerard grins and waggles his eyebrows at them. “Great! If they’re not expecting you for a while, c’mon. We can be halfway to the Continent before they miss you.”
Martin laughs, but it sounds tired. “Skating sounds fun, but I need something to eat first, I think. I didn’t get a chance to grab lunch today.” He reaches under the collar of his jumper and tugs—is that a necktie? “There’s, um, everything around here is kind of expensive, actually, but—”
“No, wait, hang on,” Gerard interrupts. “What are you even doing up this way? Where is ‘home’ anyway? I went by your place and someone else was living there…”
“Yeah, we had to move over the summer. I didn’t quite meet the income requirements for the rent.” Martin sighs and rolls up the tie before stuffing it in his bag.
“Inc—you’re a student!” Gerard throws his hands up. “What income requirements can they expect out of you? And why you?”
Melanie folds her arms over her chest. “Told you he’d throw a fit.”
“Yeah, imagine how he’d react if I let you have your way,” Martin shoots back.
“You shouldn’t have to make all the sacrifices!”
“And what would be the point of you giving it all up if—”
“What. Is. Going. On,” Gerard says emphatically.
Melanie’s scowl deepens. “Dad got fired.”
A chill runs through Gerard’s body. He looks over at Martin, who nods silently. “So…what, you had to get a seasonal job to help out? Surely Mum’s not so stingy she wouldn’t pay Aunt Lily more. She needs her, after all.”
“Apparently not. Mum’s not doing well either, Ger. She…I don’t know. I think she’s been Touched, but I’m honestly afraid to Look.” Martin looks away from Gerard, out over the river. “Anyway, she can’t work any more. And Aunt Mary said she didn’t need my help when I offered to take over.”
“She probably just meant she didn’t need you part time,” Gerard says. “What with you being away at school and all.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Martin says quietly. “I’m not going to school anymore. I dropped out. Someone has to support the family, and if it had to be one of us, it had to be me.”
“It should be both of us,” Melanie says pointedly. “I could’ve—”
“Look, as hard as it was for me to find anything without a degree, it would’ve been harder for you and you know it,” Martin cuts her off, with the tone of someone retreading a well-worn argument. “This is the best option. Trust me.”
Gerard stares at them both, feeling the bottom drop out of his world. He left home—he thought for good—ten months ago, secure in the knowledge that Martin and Melanie were free. They’d both done well for themselves in school, both achieving places in colleges outside of London. They had futures, they had their whole lives ahead of them, and Gerard knew that for the first time, all of them were away from his mother and Martin’s and the lives they’d tried to trap them in.
But if Martin dropped out…
“Hang on,” he says slowly, dread creeping up his spine. “Where are you working around here? One of the shops or—?” He freezes, looking across the street at the looming, imposing building he was just in a few minutes ago. “No. Don’t tell me—”
“Just the library,” Martin says, but the defeat in his voice is obvious.
“Martin Blackwood.”
“Look, it’s not like I had a choice. Nobody was hiring, and I mean nobody. I’d picked up a bit of change working at the tea shop again, but that wasn’t…we didn’t have much of a grace period on rent, you know?” Martin sighs heavily. “Everybody wanted degrees, o-or experience or…I had to do something.”
“You lied on your CV,” Gerard guesses.
“And the Magnus Institute was the only place I could successfully fake the credentials they were looking for,” Martin agrees. “Or, well…I mean, I’m pretty sure Mr. Bouchard knows the truth, but he hired me anyway.”
Gerard swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “So…you’re working for them after all.”
“Yeah.” Martin lowers his eyes and turns away. “Guess so.”
The glare Melanie shoots Gerard is almost enough to burn holes in his leather duster, but he doesn’t need her to do that to know he’s fucked up. A sickly spiral of guilt swirls in his gut, and he steps forward and takes Martin’s arm, not really turning him to face him, but just kind of maintaining contact. Letting him know he’s there.
“Hey,” he says softly. “No, I—I didn’t mean it like that, Martin, I just—God, l thought you two were safe. I would never have left if I’d…i-if I’d known you were in trouble, I’d have come back in a heartbeat. I hate that you’re stuck. And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not. It just…it just happened.” Martin wipes his eyes and looks at Gerard. “Knowing you and Neens made it out…that’s enough for me.”
Melanie’s snort echoes off the surrounding buildings. “You don’t think we’re going to leave you to this, do you? I told you before, when you were worrying about whether you’d even get into that program, that I wasn’t going to go off and get away from this if you couldn’t. I’m not dropping out because you’ll kick my ass—”
“Damn right—”
“—but I’m not going to stop helping, either,” Melanie concludes. “Fuck it. If you’re in it, I’m in it. Not like they’ll let me stay away forever anyway. Might as well make them regret it, right?”
Martin gives her a small, watery, but genuine smile. Gerard takes a deep breath and squeezes Martin’s arm. “She’s right. One for all and all for one, yeah? I told you last time I wouldn’t leave without you, so if you can’t leave…I won’t, either.”
“You’re not going back to your mum, though, right?” Melanie’s voice is sharp, but her eyes are worried.
Gerard smiles, and doesn’t answer. His mother isn’t gifted with prophecy or anything, but she knows him, and his brother and sister to a certain extent, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out this is why she refused to hire Martin full-time. She knows how he feels about them, and knowing Martin is trapped at the Institute is going to be the perfect cat’s-paw to get him back under her thumb for good.
“Come on,” he says, looping his arm through Melanie’s and pulling both of them closer. “Let’s go get something to eat. My treat. And then I think you mentioned ice-skating.”
One last moment, he thinks. One last taste of freedom before he puts his neck back in the yoke to be worked to death. He can do this. It’s fine.
It’s worth it. It has to be.
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gemma-collins-ily · 3 years
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It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if you could do Jesper celebrating the reader’s birthday?
Jesper Celebrating the Reader's Birthday
a/n - keep in mind, fics don't normally come out this quickly, but I saw this and wanted to release it on your special day! This may be a little uncoordinated but I hope you enjoy and have a brilliant day! Also, just to let everyone know, requests are closed for a few days, just so I can catch up on requests xoxo 💞
Warnings: nothing?
Tagged: @mrs-brekker15 @i-am-the-1930s @inthegistoftime
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it is guaranteed
you hear me?
guaranteed
that he will try to plan you a party
it's Jesper, he has to
so he'll set up streamers and a huge poster displaying your age
for all who enter the Slat to see
he'll get Nina to distract you, taking you out for waffles probably
his words would probably be exactly like this:
"I don't know Neens, just take them away from the Slat and don't come back till, like ummm seven."
she'd look at the half hung decorations and many more still in boxes disapprovingly and ask:
"You didn't plan this out did you?"
"Are you accusing me, the Jesper Fahey, himself, of being disorganised?"
She grabbed her coat and you, covering your eyes as she went, very clearly conveying something was happening, then left without a word more.
so, by now, you knew something was happening
or at least suspected it
but would go along with it for Jesper
trailing after Nina until your feet were sore
finally having enough and asking if you could stop and sit on a bench
she agreed with a groan
so, she was obviously tired too
"How long do we need to stay out?"
"I really do not know what you're talking about, (Y/N)."
"Come on, I know there's a surprise back at the Slat, I just need to know how long I have to wait to go home."
she'd continue to blatantly refuse the very idea of a surprise until she randomly gave in
and you'd smirk, happy to get the answer
as soon as it neared seven, she'd try to drag you back to the Slat but you'd tell her they wouldn't be ready yet
Nina would not listen and take you firmly by the wrist, marching back to the Slat
when you got there you were right
of course
bestie, can you predict the future?
no, actually
you just know how frazzled your boyfriend can get
but you were surprised to see even Kaz was helping
it did not look like he wanted to be there voluntarily
but still
you take what you can get
it was an effort so you appreciated it
when Nina would let out a dramatic gasp at the sight of Kaz Brekker hanging up decor, Jes would notice you
yelling at Nina to take you out again or to your room
just go over and peck him on the lips, tell him you don't really care about the streamers and he'll relax
even if he wanted it to be perfect
you have all the calming techniques down bestie
Kaz will sigh exaggeratingly and drop the colourful swirly thing he was eyeing with disgust
it would be between his forefinger and thumb as he did so
and this meant it was twice as funny to you
oops you may have laughed
you received a glare in return
aww such a nice present
everyone say thank you Kaz
anyway
there's probably a table with gifts on it
kaz got you a new book
but left it anonymously
no message on the tag even if you know it's him
you thank him and he pretends he has no clue who gave it to you
"Awwww, thanks Kaz."
"I didn't get you a gift, (Y/N). It's obviously from someone else."
Inej would get you some sort of herbal tea I think
if you don't like tea then it's probably also a book
wow what a match for those two
thinking the same thoughts
Nina may have forgotten to get a present and would promise waffles instead
or she'd have tried to sneakily get a board game while you were out earlier
you acted like you did not notice
it's a grammy award for you
Matthias could have either gotten you some kruge because he wasn't sure what you wanted
or a new scarf, coat ect.
he has a pretty good taste in fashion
now, Jesper would either wait till later to give you his gifts
because aww, sentimentality
or he'd give you them with everyone else's to make you blush publicly
at that point, you wouldn't care
either way, he'd keep at least one spare to give to you in private
I think his gifts would be a little something like this:
a type of jewelry, whether it be a necklace or an anklet, it would have a J on it
he probably bought a matching one for him with your initial on it too
a necklace feels a little more personal but could be taken advantage of by enemies
like in finding out you were together
not like it was oBVIOUS or anything
but an anklet would ultimately be sturdier and less likely to be taken as a means of affection from a loved one
so anklet it is
chocolates that are actually quite rich in flavour and are rare in Ketterdam
he saved up some money for those
if you like to play with his rings
he'll have bought you one
again, it may be a little blander to avoid it being interpreted as a gift of love by enemies
you didn't mind it being a little more hidden
Jesper was happy with you and you with Jesper
so you felt no need to show off to the world
you would probably take it off if you had to do any good old fashioned fist fighting
pocketing it quickly
he'd also give you a nail makeover the next day
but you would have to paint on his nails in return because if he tried, he would probably mess up while using his non-dominant hand to paint the other
you could match because #couplegoals
he'd bring you breakfast in bed the day after your birthday
being so busy planning the day before, he didn't get you any
I hate to disappoint but it would not be made by him
he would burn everything
so Matthias' second present to you is the breakfast
delivered by Jesper
he'd probably be sat at the counter making snarky remarks about Matthias' cooking
until he got whacked with a tea towel
if you're an early bird
Jes would be given the task of distracting you and stopping you from walking downstairs
or getting out of bed at all
this could be easily done with the persuasion of cuddles
then Matthias would yell for him and he'd have to leave to get the tray
when he brings it up he'll sit you between his legs, leaning your back against his chest and resting the tray on your knees
may feed you bites that sOMEHOW end up like a lady and the tramp scene
even if it's a slice of french toast, he'll manage
would tactfully steal little bits off your plate
and you couldn't really be mad at him because he would just smile charmingly
(maybe with half a piece of bacon sticking out of the side of his mouth)
but charming none the less
he might have a gift hidden in the corner of a chest of drawers somewhere you find one day and he remembers he was supposed to wrap that up and give it to you
if it's almost a year later and near your next birthday
just leave it on his dresser
no words need to be exchanged
the only difference is now one of your presents is less of a surprise
oh cards
kaz would write in his a simple,
'Inej made me write this. Have a good day. You are one year closer to being dead. Congratulations.
-Signed sincerely, Kaz Brekker'
Nina and Matthias share a card
meaning she wrote it and he signed his name with an extra
'I hope you have a lovely day, (Y/N).'
Nina's message/ the main one in the card would be:
'I can't believe we're all growing so old now! Anyway, we love you, hope you enjoy the presents and your birthday. You deserve it! Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Nina'
Inej's would have a very sincere message:
'(Y/N),
You are truly a wonderful friend and person, helping everyone with anything they may need. I feel so lucky to have you as my friend and I hope you will continue to be for years to come. You deserve a fantastic day and I hope you get one, I know Jes will try to make it perfect!
-From, Inej x
p.s - I tried to get Kaz to sign a card, but he was smirking and wouldn't let me see it before he put it in the envelope, so I'm terribly sorry if it's rude.'
now to Jesper's
'Love,
I adore you with all my heart and wish you a truly happy birthday. I hope you like the gifts I bought, I wanted to symbolise my love for you through each. I know one or two presents are a little bland but I hope they mean as much to you as they do to me. You are the most amazing partner I could ever dream of having, and every time you do something, I never expect it.
You are unpredictable, my love, and I can honestly say I do not mind it. In fact, it is one of the many factors that made me fall in love with you. Have a happy birthday!
-Love from Jesper, xxx
p.s - Kaz looked terrifyingly happy when he finished signing your card so be careful, he probably pulled something.
you might have cried
yes
you, a Crow, feared on the streets sniffled over even Kaz's message
knowing if he didn't actually want to, there was no way he would have signed that card
all in all, you have a great birthday and Jesper (and everyone else) makes you feel really special
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lake-arrius-caverns · 3 years
Text
Nerevarine Rising
Chapter 6: Ancestors
summary Luckily for Fahjoth, Ribyna is more than happy to assist him with his next assignment and he’s feeling positive. But will it go as well as they hope?
content warnings mild threat/violence
tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)
read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍
:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::
 —————————————————————————————
Not even the deep grey clouds that hung overhead the following morning could squash Fahjoth’s spirit as he trotted along the dusty path with Ribyna in tow. The fragmented sleep he had managed to achieve overnight had done little to soothe his aches and pains, but nonetheless, Fahjoth walked along with an evident spring in his step. It was hard not to let his excitement show, and in a stark contrast to the previous night, he had a near permanent grin etched onto his face. 
“You sure you know where you’re going?” Ribyna called, on the alert for aggressive wildlife or hostile thieves. Fahjoth turned to face Ribyna but continued walking, so that he was effectively walking backwards while addressing her. 
“Course I do! I remember the way to Seyda Neen. And from there we just need to find the t—“ 
His statement was abruptly cut off as he felt himself suddenly drop; his heart leapt up to his throat and his gut lurched as he plummeted backwards, before the world stopped spinning and his brief moment of weightlessness came to an end as he landed flat on his back. As the air was knocked out of his lungs, he lay there and stared up at the sky, wheezing, before Ribyna’s surly face suddenly obscured his view of the clouds.
“Well done, shit-for-brains.” 
With a groan, Fahjoth struggled to sit up and stared reproachfully at the small rock that he had tripped over. As he opened his mouth to reply to Ribyna’s taunt, he paused as a strange sound reached his ears. Ribyna seemed to have heard it as well, for she looked up and stared straight ahead into a mass of scrubby bushes nearby which rustled and twitched, despite there being very little wind to disturb them. He pulled himself to his feet as slowly as he could, while the quiet shhk of gliding metal indicated that Ribyna had drawn out her dagger. But before Fahjoth could make a move of his own, a large, broad head suddenly jutted out of the foliage. 
The creature it belonged to resembled some kind of reptile, with a large, domed forehead, tiny eyes and a noticeable underbite. As the rest of it followed, scaley hide glinting in the muted noon light, Fahjoth let out a laugh of joy as the creature began snuffling along the ground, tiny arms tucked against its chest. 
“Ahh! Ribyna, look!” Fahjoth cried, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s a guar!”
Ribyna sounded much less enamoured by the creature as she kept back and watched from a distance. “Well don’t get too close, it might bite!”
“Nah, if it was gonna bite, it would’ve by now,” Fahjoth reasoned, taking a tentative step forward. The guar looked up and he stopped, crouching down slightly to present himself as less of a threat. “Hey, buddy!” he crooned, holding out his hand as one would do to coax a dog. The guar turned to face Fahjoth, its nostrils twitching as it scented his hand. Once it realised that he carried nothing edible, it chuffed quietly and continued on its way. Fahjoth felt awestruck nonetheless. 
“Wow…” he breathed, straightening up and watching the guar toddle along the path. “Aren’t they brilliant?”
“Hm.” Ribyna sounded less than impressed as she stared with one brow cocked. “Anyway, let’s stop fucking about, come on! It’s gonna start hammering down soon and I’d rather not get soaked.”
“Okay, okay,” Fahjoth sighed, walking onwards with his twin but feeling strangely uplifted by the encounter. 
The rest of the trip south to Seyda Neen passed without event, and fortunately, the tomb was relatively easy to locate as well. A smaller path diverged from the main road, leading up to a visible door constructed into the side of a smooth grey rock face set into the hill. The siblings ascended the path — with Fahjoth lingering along the way to fawn over a nearby scrib before being forcibly dragged away by Ribyna — until they reached the weather-beaten wooden door, where they both came to a stop. 
They stood in front of the door, but for a few moments neither spoke a word. Eventually, Ribyna took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Right, well, let’s go then,” she said, raising a hand towards the door but not yet making contact. Fahjoth knew and understood why; he was more than apprehensive about entering the tomb himself. But after appearing to mentally psyche herself up, Ribyna firmly pushed the door open, triggering a sudden cascade of silt and tiny rock fragments from the door frame above their heads. 
“Ugh—!” Ribyna spluttered as she frantically wafted the dust cloud away from her face, but Fahjoth was silent; with his hand held over his nose and mouth as he squinted into the shadows of the tomb, it was with the gift of hindsight that he wished he’d brought a torch or lantern. 
“Right… are you ready to go in?” he asked Ribyna, glancing at her with uncertainty. “It’s… kind of dark in there.” 
“Yeah, I can see that. Not scared of the dark now, are you, Fahji?” Ribyna crooned, and Fahjoth felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 
“No!” he protested, but a frown crept onto his face as he gazed into the gloom. “But I’m kind of scared of what might be in it.” 
Surprisingly, Ribyna didn’t seem to have a witty comeback to tease him with this time. She simply grimaced and nodded in understanding, then flashed him a wry grin. “Well, it’s lucky you’ve got me then, innit? Come on.” After giving a gentle tug on Fahjoth’s arm to encourage him, Ribyna strode on ahead into the crypt and Fahjoth hastened to catch up.
Even with the door of the tomb left open, the gloom seemed to envelop them within seconds. Fahjoth held out a hand as he edged along one step at a time, flinching as his fingertips brushed along the cold walls and fighting the urge to recoil his hand with every unexpected bump or notch in the stone, afraid of what he could potentially touch in the unyielding darkness. 
Then something brushed against his other hand and his breath caught in his throat, his heart immediately hammering against the inside of his chest as he whipped his arm back to safety — but as his brain caught up with his senses and he heard a gasp and a series of rapid footsteps, he realised that he had merely brushed his sibling’s shoulder. 
“Ugh, this is ridiculous!” he heard Ribyna hiss. “I’m gonna try something, hang on.” 
Fahjoth waited in silence, wondering what Ribyna was doing but appreciating the moment of pause, taking it as an opportunity to try and calm his nerves down again. He didn’t have to wait for long, however, as a small flame suddenly erupted into life in the darkness, casting a deep amber glow on the surrounding walls and illuminating their way forward, if only slightly. Ribyna’s face was lit up the most as she held out her palm, upon which a tiny flame danced and flickered away enthusiastically. 
“Yes!”
“Nice one!” Fahjoth praised. “Merrick would be proud—”
Too late did Fahjoth realise his mistake, and he cut himself off abruptly as he saw the grin immediately vanish from Ribyna’s face. She said nothing but instead continued walking on in silence, and Fahjoth hurried along in her wake and reached out for her shoulder as they went. 
“Sorry, Beebs,” he apologised, but he was still bothered by a feeling he couldn’t shake. In all the time they had been together, both in prison and later in Vvardenfell, not once had they discussed the event that had been the catalyst for their arrest. In fact, since reuniting, they had barely talked about any aspect of their old lives at all. But, in Fahjoth’s case, this wasn’t for lack of wanting to. “Look… are we ever gonna talk about—”
“No.”
“Ribyna—”
“I said no, Fahjoth. I don’t want to.”
As uncomfortable as Fahjoth felt, he knew better than to provoke Ribyna by antagonising her further. So he let the matter drop and quietly accepted that they would not broach the subject again any time soon. 
It was Ribyna who broke the silence next. “Eugh, can you smell that?”
Fahjoth cautiously sniffed the air, instinctively wrinkling his nose as a foul smell, putrid and oddly sweet, suddenly hit his senses. “Ew… well, we are in a tomb,” he pointed out. “It’s bound to smell a bit rank down here.”
“I suppose…” 
The path into the crypt continued on, angling down a mild incline, while Ribyna’s flame casted dancing shadows along the narrow corridor. As they went on, a quiet buzz reached Fahjoth’s ears, and the stomach-churning smell only continued to grow worse with every step. Finally, they reached a larger chamber at the base of the corridor, and from the light of the fire they were able to see the source.
Fahjoth recoiled as his eyes fell upon a large, dark shape lying prone on the floor, with indistinct black dots swarming around it — fleshflies. Ribyna raised her hand to angle the light more precisely on the mass, casting every wrinkle of clothing and detail of armour into sharp relief. The head was concealed by a leather helm, and for that, Fahjoth was grateful; only a withered, decaying hand crawling with insects gave any indication of the condition of the corpse underneath its garments. A dried, dark brown stain pooled out from beneath the body — whether as a result of old blood from a fatal wound or simply tissue decomposition, Fahjoth couldn’t tell. 
“Ew…” Ribyna said, drawing her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose in an attempt to ward off the smell. “Looks like we’re not the first ones here. Reckon your Orc woman sent him here to do her favour, too?”
Fahjoth was silent, staring at the cadaver with horror — a feeling which only vastly amplified as he watched Ribyna crouch down and, with a kind of repulsed detachment, tugged something out from under the body’s arm. 
“Ribyna, what the fuck are you—?!”
“Look, it’s a lantern,” Ribyna remarked, holding up the cracked glass casing and sounding so utterly nonchalant about stealing from a corpse that Fahjoth was floored. She popped open the door and held her conjured fire out towards the candle wick, letting it light before allowing the flame in her hand to die. “There, now I can stop wasting brainpower. I don’t have much of that to spare in the first place.”
Fahjoth was dumbstruck, and eventually managed to shake his head in total disbelief. “I can’t believe you sometimes,” he said, though he couldn’t hide a wry smile nonetheless. Ribyna simply flashed him a wicked grin in response before carrying on, holding the lantern out at arm’s length to light their path. 
The deeper they went into the tomb, the colder it seemed to become. A thin blanket of mist hung just above ground level, smokey tendrils creeping around doorways and stone caskets that bore collections of urns and jars. Some chambers featured circular pits set into the ground which contained mounds of ash, and judging by the shards of gleaming white jutting out of the grey dust, most of these held numerous bones. Fahjoth shivered, feeling the chill seeming to seep into his own bones, but Ribyna seemed to be handling it well, staring from wall to wall with curiosity on her face. 
“D’you reckon we’ve got an ancestral tomb somewhere?” she asked suddenly, her mind evidently in a much different place to Fahjoth’s. Momentarily stumped by the question, Fahjoth eventually responded with uncertainty. 
“I suppose so, I mean… Dad told us about his family before, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, but…” Ribyna grimaced, the next words appearing to cause her some discomfort. “They wouldn’t really be our ancestors, would they? Not properly.” She heaved a sigh, her breath appearing in the air before her in the form of a tiny cloud. “I dunno, it’s just… being called ‘outlander’ by every bastard makes me wonder if we even actually have any real ties here.”
Taken aback by Ribyna’s uncharacteristic poignancy, Fahjoth merely shook his head and shrugged. “I dunno, Beebs. I don’t suppose it really matters, we’re gonna get called outlanders either way. It’s definitely the accents,” he added as an irate afterthought, prompting a dry chuckle from Ribyna. 
“Yup. Oh well, suppose we’ll just have to d— Oh, Fahjoth, look!”
Ribyna’s exclamation was accompanied by a pointing of her finger as she drew Fahjoth’s attention to another pit of dust in the chamber just ahead; this one was set apart from the rest by the skull and dagger placed so meticulously on a stone stool situated just in front of the pit itself. Fahjoth trotted over alongside Ribyna and, as the two crouched down to get a closer look, Ribyna turned to look at Fahjoth expectantly. 
“Is this it, d’you reckon?”
“I think so...” He glanced back at his twin before focusing his attention back on the skull. Sure enough, it bore the telltale ritual markings that Sharn gra-Muzgob had described. “Only one way to find out, innit?” 
Despite his words, Fahjoth hesitated. Now that he had located his prize, all of his misgivings had returned and he was conscious of the weight of the enchanted sword that hung from his belt — surely it had been lent to him for a reason. 
If— no, when he picked up the skull, what would happen? Would he trigger a trap that would cause the roof to cave in over his and Ribyna’s heads? Would he suddenly be struck down by a powerful curse? Or perhaps he would wake the souls of the ancestors that rested here, and be besieged by an army of vengeful ghosts? 
Ribyna seemed to be getting impatient with Fahjoth’s dithering, for she suddenly gave his shoulder a rather forceful push. “Come on, what’s the hold up? Just pick it up, don’t be such a fucking pussy.”
“Alright, alright!” Fahjoth huffed, reaching into his pocket for the cloth sack he had brought for the occasion. He shuffled both hands into the sack, wearing it like an oversized mitten as he tentatively scooped up the skull and let the sack invert itself over it, still afraid of touching it with his bare skin. For a few seconds, he held his breath, remaining in a motionless crouch while he waited to see if anything would happen following the skull’s removal. The seconds ticked by and, to his elation, there was no cave-in, no sudden pox or plague upon him, and no horde of angry spirits rising to tear him limb from limb. Nothing untoward occurred whatsoever. They were safe! 
“There we are!” Ribyna jeered, patting Fahjoth roughly on the back as he stood up, feeling almost giddy with relief. While he bobbed on the spot, thrilled with this one tiny achievement, Ribyna crouched down to pick up the dagger that had been left behind on the stool. “I’d say that’s a job well done. Looks like you didn’t need me after a—”
Her words died in her throat as, with a subtle fshk, an arrow pierced the air between them — whizzing directly over Ribyna’s head — and ricocheted off the back wall of the chamber. Spinning frantically to locate the source, Fahjoth let out a choked gasp as he clapped eyes on their attacker.
“Fuck-a-doodle-doo!” Ribyna yelled, wide-eyed as she stared with horror at the skeleton while it drew another arrow into its bow, the telltale creaking of its bones providing a quiet hum that seemed to echo through the chamber. 
“Shit, not again—!” Fahjoth exclaimed, already beginning to descend into a state of panic. The chamber was cramped and, without much in the way of large objects to take cover behind, he and Ribyna were essentially sitting targets for the undead archer who was taking aim once more. 
“Ribyna, just keep moving!” Fahjoth yelped, using the limited space available to dart from spot to spot as erratically as he physically could. Ribyna, meanwhile, seemed to have other ideas. 
Fahjoth’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he watched his twin lunge and grasp a nearby urn tightly in both hands. He felt his stomach drop, knowing full well what was coming next. 
“Ribyna, don’t—!”
“Get fucked, you bony bastard!”
The urn was launched through the air, flying up in a graceful arc — spilling its ashy contents in a cloud of dust in the process — and collided with the skeleton’s skull, shattering both itself and the bone on impact. The skeleton crumpled, its bones falling apart as whatever magic had been fastening the joints together dissipated, filling the chamber with a deafening clattering as both bone and pottery shards went spilling onto the ground. 
As Fahjoth stared mutely at the chaotic scene, a thick silence fell upon the tomb for a second or two; until an eerie hissing began to reach his ears, seeming to turn his blood to ice in his veins. Was it just his eyes, or was the mist that drifted above the ground growing thicker? 
“Oh, Ribyna...!” Fahjoth groaned, turning to look at his twin with despairing exasperation. She merely stared back, wide-eyed and alarmed, before she snatched the lantern from where she’d put it down and rushed to grab Fahjoth’s hand. 
“Well, come on then!” she barked, rushing out of the chamber and dragging Fahjoth along in her wake. They barely made it to the next chamber up before they found a figure, pale green and gleaming with an ethereal glow, blocking their path. Bright smoke seemed to billow along their path as they glided towards the twins, reaching out with unnaturally long, spindly fingers topped with deadly sharp nails. 
“For fuck’s sake, you’ve woken the whole bloody tomb up!” Fahjoth complained, dropping a hand towards his sheathed weapon. But Ribyna got there first, whipping out her trusty chitin dagger and slashing it at the spirit — only to watch as the blade sailed right on through. 
“Fahjoth, we can’t touch them— Shit!”
The ghost, undeterred by Ribyna’s dagger, had retaliated with a vengeance by slashing its claw-like nails across her chest. She leapt back to avoid the strike, gasping as it left tangible scores in her leather armour and for a moment, in the mixed light from the lantern and the ghost’s cold luminescence, fear flashed across her face. 
“Fahjoth—!”
“Hold on, Ribyna—! Get back!” he cried, drawing his own sword from its sheath at last. His eyes widened as his face was suddenly bathed in the fierce heat of the flames that flickered along the blade, and in that moment, it clicked. He charged and swung the sword with a ferocious yell, watching as, with a searing blaze of scarlet fire, it carved a gash through the ghost’s midriff from which thick smoke began to spill. The spirit emitted an ear-splitting shriek, drifting towards Fahjoth again with its spectral features twisted into a grotesque snarl, but Fahjoth was ready this time. He sprung forward again and plunged the sword straight through the spirit’s chest, stopping it in its tracks and causing it to let out another piercing screech before it suddenly dissolved, disappearing in a matter of seconds and leaving behind nothing but a sinister puddle on the ground. 
As Fahjoth paused to catch his breath, he turned to Ribyna and held up the sword by means of explanation. “Enchanted,” he puffed. “The weapon’s got to be enchanted.” 
Ribyna opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by another chilling howl that echoed through the corridors behind them. Without a word the twins snatched each others’ hands once more and fled through the tomb, guided by the limited light of the lantern that Ribyna still carried and hounded by the sinister whispering and shrieking of infuriated spirits. After a mad dash through the crypt, the entrance was finally in sight, spilling glorious daylight into the otherwise pitch blackness ahead of them. 
With one last burst of speed they cleared the exit together, and once outside, Fahjoth slammed the tomb door behind them hard enough that it rattled in its frame before becoming still. With a cool rain now battering them, Fahjoth and Ribyna stood in silence, leaning against the damp stone wall on either side of the tomb door and panting as they struggled to catch their breath. Eventually, Fahjoth broke the silence. 
“I can’t believe you chucked someone’s grandma at a skeleton.”
Ribyna squinted, still leaning over with her hands on her knees and puffing heavily from a combination of exertion and adrenalin from their daring escape. Once her breathing had calmed, she finally straightened up and stared back at Fahjoth with her hands on her hips. 
“I s’pose the locals are right,” she said, her tone even and measured. “Turns out ancestors are useful.”
A moment of silence followed this statement, before Fahjoth couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a grin curling at the corners of his mouth he began to laugh, quietly at first but quickly coming down with hysterics at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Ribyna quickly followed suit, catching his contagious laughter and breaking out into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. 
Once the laughter died down, Fahjoth rolled his eyes and extended an arm towards Ribyna, who accepted his offer and linked it with her own. In unison they began the lengthy stroll back to Balmora, neither of them complaining about the drizzle leaving their clothes soaked through and their hair dripping and plastered to their faces.
Despite a few blunders, Fahjoth felt that his second task had been at least somewhat of a success. Emboldened by the little victories, it was then that he dared to hope that perhaps this Blades business wouldn’t be so bad after all — especially when he had good company to help him see it through. 
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‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #28
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London was beautiful at 3am.
Rodger sat in the passenger seat flicking through the emails he missed during the day. BBC Radio 3 played softly as I navigated through the streets back to his house.
"Who'd have thought you'd be a Radio 3 fan," Rodger said distractedly.
"It's calming," I defended.
Rodger was quick to come back, "It's Nina is what it is."
"You're supposed to say how adorable it is that she's got me listening to Mozart in the car."
"Oh," He locked his phone and put a hand on my shoulder as I drove, "It's extremely fucking adorable. Didn't I say she'd be good for you? Look how cultured you seem now."
I laughed but shrugged off his hand, “Shut up, I’ve always been cultured.”
“This is Bach,” He deadpanned, “Not Mozart.”
“Oh, piss off.”
As I turned into their street, Rodger dug through his backpack for his keys and started rattling off scores from a football game while I found a park. By the time we were talking up the front steps to their house, I was well and genuinely freezing my arse off and ready to be with Nina.
I wasn't planning on spending the night here, but it was a few days since I had seen her and I knew Nina's rehearsals were taking a toll, but I wasn't able to get more detail than that. I had two days off, and once the idea to be in her bed tonight formed in my head, it took hold.
Rodger let us in and turned on the hall light, "Cuppa?" He asked.
"No," I shook my head, "Thanks, I'm just gonna go up."
"Righto, see you in the morning."
I ducked into the bathroom on my way up to Nina's room, using some of the toiletries I knew were hers to wash my face. I stripped down to my pants, so there was less chance of waking her up with undressing and then stumbled out and up to her door.
It creaked open loudly, but I held the handle so I could slip it in quietly as I closed the door again. I put my clothes in a pile on the floor at the bottom of the bed and smiled as I then tried to figure out where on earth I was meant to fit in the bed when Nina was comfortably asleep right in the middle.
"Harry?"
I paused and winced where I had barely pulled back the duvet to slip my leg in, “I’m pleased I was your first guess,” I chuckled lowly.
She rolled over onto her side and shuffled back, making room for me. I settled next to her and pushed her hair off her sleepy face.
"I wasn't expecting you," Nina said, quietly letting out a weary sigh, "How was your day?"
"It's 3am," I pressed a kiss to her forehead and shuffled closer to her, "Go back to sleep."
"I wasn't sleeping, not really."
I pulled back to look at her in the dark, only her eyes shone from the light outside, "How're rehearsals going?" "Fine," She yawned, sounding more awake. My eyes momentarily flicked to the necklace she was wearing, it was the one I gave her for Christmas. I pressed my index finger to it briefly.
"Still drama?" I asked, trying not to give her a pass to evade the answer. Nina had a tendency to underplay her own work at the moment, and the idea bothered me.
"Yeah."
"Tell me about it," I prompted.
Nina rolled over onto her back beside me, "You want to hear?"
"Yes," I told her earnestly.
She had been quite evasive about it over the phone for the last two days, but I could hear something was wearing her down. Since recording the song together last week, I felt like Nina had shied away somewhat. Rodger told me after the fact about a pep talk, he needed to give her before working on the song together. I had been scolding myself ever since for being insensitive to what walking into that recording studio would have been like. I just didn't think.
"Orchestras are like ..." While she collected her thoughts, I wound my arm across her tummy, "Where else would you have eighty to a hundred and twenty people all working together with the precision of a tenth of a second? It's high stress and high stakes, and everyone has skin in the game."
"Yesterday you said something about egos ..."
"Egos like you wouldn't believe," She confirmed, speaking quietly to the ceiling, "It's all about your chair. Your chair is your status in the orchestra and beyond. Some people sit in their chairs for decades, and it's always a pissing contest."
“Right.”
“A chair in the strings has come up this week, and somebody in the orchestra stepped into the position. Which seems simple enough, but now they’re trying to dictate who gets their old chair. It’s also final program week where section leads are figuring out if the soloists are right. It feels like everyone’s breathing down each other’s necks and I already know I’m a featured soloist again.”
I interrupt her, “You’re featured again? Isn’t that incredible news? Nina! Congratulations.”
“It’s not public knowledge yet,” she doesn’t accept my praise, “Ryan says I’ve got nothing to worry about, but I don’t want to step on any toes.”
“I’m sure nobody’s—
—I’m new, young and female,” Nina says over me, “Someone will have an issue, even if they only say it under their breath. Orchestras are superstitious as all hell. I don’t want any bad voodoo pointed my way.”
I wound my arm entirely around her and pulled her closer, “Hey,” I pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, “You’re a treasure, hear me? You can’t change what people think of you, much less alter anything by worrying yourself sick about it. I don’t know anything about orchestras, but I know how corporations run … The people whose job it is to do so will make their decisions, you just worry about how you treat the people around you. None of them has a legitimate reason to dislike you, Nina. The whole orchestra benefits from the best talent being displayed.”
“I know.”
I squeezed my arms tighter around her, “And you know what you’ve got this time you didn’t a few months ago?”
“What.”
“You ... ” I kissed her again, “... Have a boyfriend who adores you who you should definitely offload on more frequently. Tell me this stuff, Neens. I can’t help, but I can listen and distract and encourage.”
She pressed her forehead against my bare chest and took in a deep breath, "Can't we run away back to New York?"
"Any time you want."
She sighed, we both knew that wasn't entirely realistic. Still, I liked that Nina wanted to run away with me, "I just want—hang on," She interrupted herself, "It's the beginning of birthday week!"
"Hmm," I hummed, thinking about the date and how many days were left until my birthday, "I suppose it is."
"Harry!" Nina was out from my arms and pushing me onto my back in a heartbeat, her palms pressing to my shoulders to hold me down, she slipped her leg over my hips and hoisted herself over to straddle me, "Happy birthday week!" She peppered my face with kisses, "Happy happy birthday."
I laughed under her, holding her waist and starting to squirm away from her grabby hands, "Ouch. Careful. Oh," she planted a long kiss on my lips and then held her head up to watch me, "Thank you. That was ... Joyful."
"I"m thrilled you exist," she whispered. "This week is gonna be fun.”
“It is,” I agreed quickly, trailing my fingers up her sides and hooking my thumbs around the straps of her sleep singlet, “May I?”
Nina took my mouth in a languid kiss, her hair fanning out around my face, “Please,” she breathed.
+++
Standing in their kitchen later that morning, Nina was frowning deeply at the saucepan on the hob.
"What did it say to you?" I sided up to her and laced my arm around her middle.
Nina bit her lip, not catching my teasing tone, "They're not staying together properly."
"Spin the water before you drop the egg in," I instructed gently, looking at the mess of egg white from her most recent poaching attempt. "Did you add vinegar?"
Nina pulled back with a sceptical look on her face, "Sorry, you're an egg expert?"
"Eggspert," I corrected, "Yes."
Her eyes narrowed by I caught the twitch of a smile, "Your sister warned me about this."
That surprised me, "My sister?"
Nina raised her eyebrows at me and nudged my thigh with her hip, "Yep. We text now."
"Hang on," I took the wooden spoon off her when she held it out to me and watched her move over to the fridge, "What are you and my sister texting about?"
"She's got me onto Love Island," Nina said, pulling a few items out onto the bench and then starting making us both a coffee, "And she's been helping with some birthday things. You're hard to buy for, we're bonding over it."
"Birthday things, you say ..." I leant down and kissed Nina's cheek as she took back the egg poaching station and gave me a delicious mug of coffee.
"She told me a really delightful story about you as a six-year-old stuffing an Action Man limb up your nose."
"That's a lie!" I spluttered out too quickly.
"You can defend yourself at dinner tonight," Nina smiled brightly as she blew on the surface of her hot drink.
"God, Gem will be loving this," I all but rolled my eyes.
We were playing, but I was looking forward to bringing Nina along for Gemma and I's usual Monday night dinner. I also didn't mind at all that they were texting, I'd never had that happen before. My sister was always deliberately separate from the women I dated. Nina and my sister were fast becoming two peas in a pod, and I couldn't say I minded a bit.
"Do you want to eat here or on the sofa?"
Nina had two plates of eggs on toast served up waiting for my response, "Sofa," I said, picking them both up and following her through to the living room.
Once we were settled, we chatted through eating breakfast, establishing our plans for the rest of the day off we shared. I didn’t care what we did, I was just craving being with her. Which is why well over an hour later, without empty plates still sitting on the coffee table in front of us, I didn’t care that I was watching the telly while Nina scrolled on her phone. Both Rodger and Max had come and gone, and the house was quiet around us.
“I like this house,” I said aloud. “Almost as much as I like my own,” I watched Nina look around their living room blankly, clearly not seeing anything praiseworthy. I dug my toes in under her thigh from my spot at the opposite end of the sofa, “Not the house itself … I just like being here is all I mean.”
“Was gonna suggest you get your eyes tested,” Her hand rested on my calf comfortably, “It’s certainly not as pretty as your place.”
“There’s a lot of love and safety in this house,” I explained, my eyes are drawn to Nina’s phone when it pinged with multiple notifications at once, “What on earth is going on?”
Nina frowned at the screen and started rapidly typing back to a message, “The girls are all on. And I’m talking to Gemma too.”
I crawled over to her and rested my head on her shoulder, “What are you all gas bagging about?” Nina flipped the screen out of my view quickly, but I reached for her hand and brought it back because I recognised the website she was on, “Gucci?”
“Don’t,” She tried to reach the lock button, but my fingers were stopping hers from being able to.
“What are you buying from … Nina.”
“You like Gucci,” Nina spoke quietly, avoiding meeting my eyes, “Don’t ruin it.”
I locked the screen myself and sat up next to her, keeping a hold of her hand, “Nina, don’t spend that kind of money on me, particularly on a brand I work with. I don’t pay for any of their stuff, babe.”
“I want to get you something you’ll love.”
I love you, I wanted to say, alarmed at how easily the thought drifted into my head.
“I don’t need anything,” I took her chin in my hands and made her look at me, noticing the small white line of Nina's scar from her childhood bike accident, “But I’d love it if you got me some classical vinyls … Like of some symphonies you like. Please don’t spend anything ridiculous though.”
“I have a job, Harry. I want to buy you something nice. New York was—
—Okay,” I breathed out, hating the conversation that was coming. Usually, I avoided it. No, usually things didn’t get serious enough to need to have the money conversation. But Nina was sitting in front of me planning to spend more than she could probably afford on my birthday because she felt like she needed to repay me for my more extravagant Christmas gift. “Neens, you can’t think that way. You really can’t. I don’t have normal circumstances when it comes to money … When it comes to almost everything, actually. The point is,” I continued slowly, “I love that up until this point things have been pretty even, you pay for a lot, and it means so much to know that you’re not just sitting back relying on me. But Neens, for big stuff like holidays and extras I’ve got it covered.”
“That’s not fair, Harry.”
I shook my head, “Money isn’t about fair, Nina. Relationships suffer for it every day, and that’s usually about not having enough. It fills me with shame to think the people in my life would worry because I have an excess. I’ve worked hard for it and sacrificed a lot. And you’ll sacrifice a lot being with me … Money can’t be what ruins this. I won’t let it. I don’t want to be scared to spend money on you or on us because when I’m away for months at a time or when our dating becomes public things will be stressful and money is one thing we won’t need to worry about.”
Nina sat for a moment, looking uncomfortable and a little glum. I leaned in a kissed her, she gave me a weak smile after, “You really want vinyls?”
“Yes,” I promised her, understanding that maybe she needed time to sit with everything else I said, “I really do. I’m extremely behind in my classical collection. Actually, that reminds me, I’ve got something for you to listen to.”
She gave me a curious look, “What?”
“Where does Rodger keep his good headphones?”
“I think there’s a pair of his studio ones on the kitchen table …”
“I’ll be right back,” I jumped up off the sofa and rounded the living room, scooting back in a moment later figuring out how to pair them with my phone. “Okay,” I leaned over the back of the couch and slid the cups over Nina’s ears.
“What on earth …”
I slumped back next to her, hooking my arm through Nina’s and pulling up the file Rodger sent me the day before, “I’ve got our song for you to listen to.”
She frowned, “It’s not our song, Harry, it’s yours—
—It’s ours,” I corrected her, “And I love it. Ready to hear it? Rodger finished it yesterday afternoon.”
“Okay,” Nina’s voice shook as she adjusted the earphones on her ears, “You really like it?”
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “Yes.”
I hit play before she could protest again, turning my head to the side so I could watch her as it played.
I could tell she was listening carefully throughout, her eyes focusing on different points in the room as I kept up with where int he track she was up to. Only the tiniest amount of residual noise leaked from the headphones, but I got exactly the reaction I was after about halfway through.
The intro to the bridge happened, and Nina’s eyes met mine, welling beautifully as she heard the incredible work Rodger had done since the rough cut she heard on the day. He’d added a choir of voices and the slightest echo effect onto the piano. The strings part Nina wrote we had recorded with a string quartet, and Rodger left in the sound of the piano keys falling back into place, just as Nina had suggested we do.
The song was incredible, and I was already obsessing over how to perform it live; over how to make that point in the setlist a real moment where we all shone up on stage.
“It’s so good, Harry,” Nina sniffed, dabbing under her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.
“You’re happy with it?”
“Yes!” She cried out, “You idiot, it’s gorgeous! It’s sad but hopeful, and your voice is vulnerable, but the lyrics are sure and steadying … I adore it. The strings are great. Play it again for me.”
+++
Nina and Gemma were laughing so hard I was concerned cider was going to come out of someone's nose.
Ned looked across at me as though I might have an explanation for what was going on. I shrugged at him and took another bite of my sister's take on our grandmother's apple pie. There was no need to let dessert go cold.
"And then they—
—I know!" Gemma cried, nodding her head and wiping at tears in her eyes. "I know, oh my god. It's hilarious."
Nina beamed at my sister, her eyes shining with tears of her own, “I never actually would, but I’d go on the show just to be in those conversations after.”
“Me too!”
“Hold up,” I waved my hand across the table between them, “Are you still talking about Love Island? Because I can promise you, neither of you is ever going on that show.”
“Yes,” Nina squeezed my bicep, “But notice I started with ‘I never actually would’?”
My shoulders sunk, and I took another bite of pie, “Oh. Good.”
“So, what do you still need for Saturday, Harry?” Ned turned the conversation to my birthday party on the weekend, “I’ve got Friday off so I can come over and help set anything up … Or run out and pick things up. Whatever you need.”
“My girlfriends will also be around to help,” Nina added.
“I’ve got meetings,” Gemma said, “And I’m picking up Mum from the train after, but we can come over too.”
I look at them all, grateful to have everyone offering to help. I hadn’t been in the UK for a birthday in several years, and I was looking forward to it. It was going to be low key, I only sent out an invite email to a few dozen people a few days ago. I was planning on just having it at home, which kept things simple and meant I didn’t have to worry about the added element of paparazzi or other people being around.
“How about we go out for dinner on Friday night then?” I suggested, “I’ve hired caterers for Saturday so there’s really not a lot to do that can’t happen on Saturday during the day. Just have to clean the outdoor furniture a bit, although it’ll be cold. I’ll book somewhere for Friday, that’ll be a good start to the weekend.”
“You can’t take us out for dinner on your birthday weekend!” Gemma scoffed.
“Watch me,” I stared her down.
+++
Fresh orange and pink light beamed all around us as Nina, and I made our way hand in hand back along the streets from Hampstead Heath.
It was only just nearing seven am, but I was alive with the sense I’d been awake and could continue being awake, for days. It was a high I only really experience within the throngs of touring life, but starting the day watching the sunrise with Nina, standing with her back pressed tightly to my chest, gave the same sense of life. And I felt drunk on the feeling.
“Look at that picture, that’s a good one,” Nina held my phone up in front of us, tilting the screen when I squinted to see which one she was talking about. Walking lazily, side by side, was a strange kind of perfect.
“My forehead looks funny,” I commented, pulling her out of the path of a puddle when she started flipping through the rest of the photographs we’d just taken together.
“When did you take this?” Nina asked, eyes together as she assessed my personal favourite; Nina standing with her hands in her pockets, eyes closed with her face to the sky, sunrise lighting up the expanse behind and above her. As soon as I had taken it, I knew it would be one I’d keep. I had already made it my phone lock screen, and I planned on changing Nina’s contact picture to it as well.
It was Nina I always wanted to see; beautiful beyond belief, simple in that way that had me catching my breath.
“You were having a moment,” I explained, “I captured it perfectly.”
“I look ...” She trailed off.
“... Completely gorgeous,” I finished with certainty, snatching the phone away from her and shoving it in my pocket. “Now, pay attention to where you're walking please.”
We chatted about what it might be like to live like hermits for the rest of ours lives, and by the end of it Nina decided the life we’d described—early rises, countless books, snuggly nights, no television—sounded a lot like retirement. I smiled at the thought.
When we got back to the house, kicking off muddied boots and jackets damp with the moisture from the air, I flopped myself down on my favourite sofa as Nina said she’d be back after a quick trip to the bathroom.
“Harry,” She sat right next to my waist when she returned. “Are you ... Okay, you’re going back to sleep,” She answered herself, I opened one eye to look up at her. Nina was looking around the room like she was trying to figure out what she was going to do next. I mumbled a laugh and let the eyelid close slowly.
I stuck my arm out to incase her, keeping my eyes shut, “You fit too, c’mon.”
I managed to get her lying next to me for a moment. Still, just as I was adjusting myself against the back of the sofa and pulling her legs closer to mine with an expertly hooked foot, Nina surprised me by wriggling free and instead straddling my hips to sit up and look down at me.
"Why, hello," I opened my eyes and smiled up at her, wanting more than anything to be able to convey how fucking beautiful she looked.
"Hi," She grinned.
“Are you trying to say you don't want me to have a nap right now?”
“I mean, a nap can be on the list,” Nina said, pressing her lips to my neck and digging her hands underneath my shirt, “But maybe you’d like to do something else first.”
“Like what,” I insisted, letting her pull my shirt over my head but pulling her down for a heated kiss.  
Nina sat back on my hips and surprised me by pulling her own shirt straight over her head without any hesitation, “I think you’re clever enough to figure it out.”
+++
“Do you no think if I start doing a bunch of media people will get suspicious? I think I’d prefer not to,” I told the conference call, my concentration momentarily pulled to Nina and her girlfriends assembling a string of garden lights outside. “I really want this EP to drop without a whisper of it beforehand, I don’t want to lose the fun of that.”
“I agree with Harry,” I recognised my manager’s voice.
“Okay,” The rep from marketing relented, “No media until afterwards then.”
“I’ll do interviews until my mouth bleeds once it’s out, promise,” I told them cheekily, hearing a screech from outside and then a choir of laughter. “Is that everything?”
It was, and the call ended soon after. I plugged my phone in to charge on the kitchen bench and peeked out the window again. Nina hadn’t stopped smiling since her friends arrived earlier in the morning. They had been out with Gemma buying lights and decorations for the party tonight. I couldn’t say I gave them free rein, they simply took it.
Gemma was off collecting our mum, so when I walked through to the dining area, I started on sorting through a whole bunch of crap on the table to be put away before the party. The doors to the back garden were open, so I tuned into the conversation going on out there momentarily, with Sam’s reply catching my attention. I was only just out of their view but stayed quiet to see if I could catch the moment.
“Oh shut up, this is the best stage of the relationship, Nina. Just tell us how it is!”
“Quiet,” Nina insisted. “This is his house!”
Sam didn’t listen to her, “You of all people deserve to be having all the sex in the world right now. Are you?”
“I hate you so much right now.”
“Leave her alone,” Isabel said. “She’s bright red. That’s confirmation in itself. Harry adores her, there’s no way that man isn’t good in bed.”
“I’m leaving,” Nina announced, appearing in the doorway a second later.
I spun around and met her eyes, she was bright red and looking flustered. Her mouth fell open when she saw me, and I bit my lip but smiled at her, knowing I had been caught. The girls called out for her and just when I opened my mouth she pointed right at me.
“Not a word from you,” She tried to look menacing, “Not a word.”
I held up both hands and laughed, “I wouldn’t dare … But for the record, I’d appreciate it if you defended my reputation instead of leaving room for doubt by being silent.”
“Harry,” She hissed, looking behind her to make sure her friends weren’t nearby.
“I mean, ‘all the sex in the world’ is a little hard to quantify, but we’re doing okay,” I grinned, watching her blush deepen almost as much as it had in the shower that morning.
Nina narrowed her eyes at me, “I’m going to put the kettle on for tea.”
“I’ll come help.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” She threw over her shoulder as she left the room.
I laughed loudly but followed after her regardless. She was embarrassed, and it was sweet. As I walked passed her in the kitchen, I gave her bum a light tap and told her she was beautiful. She told me to go away, but her voice was soft and affectionate—her heart not in it. When I returned to her side with a bunch of mugs and the tin of tea under my arm, I put everything down and looped my arm around her middle, depositing my hand in the back pocket of her jeans.
I gave her bottom a squeeze and pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear, guessing the question her girlfriends had asked her, “Tell me how the sex is, Nina.”
She smiled and was about to reply when we both jumped and turned around at the voices behind us.
“Urgh! See? They’re having so much sex,” Georgie cried out with Sam and Isobel close behind.
“Oh my god,” Sam wheezed, pointing at Nina, “Your face. Both of your faces. Gold.”
“You’re all uninvited to tomorrow night,” Nina shouted through a smile, “Tell them,” She nudged my side.
All four women were looking at me, and I was truly at a loss as to what to say, but I found myself laughing along with Nina’s friends, “Thank you very much for having this conversation while my sister isn’t here.”
They all laughed again, but Nina covered her face with her hands and turned back to the kettle. While Nina made the tea, the rest of us moved on to discussing where else they should decorate.
A plan was hatched to add some lights out in the front courtyard.
+++
“They’re never going to stop talking, are they?”
I felt Nina laugh against my chest and the sheets across my chest moved when she snuggled even closer, “No.” “You absolutely wish you were in with them, aren’t you?” I said into the darkness of my bedroom, “You have FOMO, just admit it.”
The sound of her friends chatting down the hall, despite the fact it was the middle of the night, was the only sound going through my house. We went out for dinner once my sister and mum arrived and now, a few bottles of wine at home later, Nina’s friends were very much enjoying themselves instead of sleeping.
“I thought we were all tired,” Nina mumbled through a yawn.
“They’re full of beans.”
She spoke sleepily, and it made me smile, “I love them.”
“Me too.”
I love you as well, I thought.
“Are you excited for your party tomorrow?” Nina asked quietly. My mind lingered on my previous thought.
“I am,” Her hair was damp against my shoulder, and one smooth leg of hers was spotted between mine, “Are you?”
“I’m a little nervous,” Nina admitted. “But it will be good.”
I kissed her cheek and wondered what the best method of reassuring her was, “Should we do sunrise again?”
Her head started nodding against my skin before she spoke, “Mhmm, let’s. You set the alarm, my eyes are already closed.”
“How you do know mine aren’t closed as well,” I chuckled.
“I can hear you blinking.”
“There’s absolutely no way that is true.”
“It is.” “It’s not.”
“You have lovely eyelashes, and I’m a prodigy, I can hear it when you blink.”
“Oh, now you’re a prodigy.”
“When it suits me, yes.”
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nicoleknows-nothing · 5 years
Text
PUCKS DEEP - CHAPTER 4 (Mark Scheifele Fan Fiction)
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WORDS: 3641
That night after my lunch date with Mark, the team was on a plane heading to the west coast. The Jets’ first game of the season was in San Jose the next day. I decided to stay up late to watch the game, illegally streaming it on my laptop because it’s pointless to have basic cable in this house. All we ever watch is Netflix or Youtube, and if we’re extremely bored we bus over to Polo Park and spend our banked Scene points on movie tickets and popcorn.  
It was halfway through the first period; the score was already 2-0 for the Sharks. Me being an idiot, I originally thought hockey was played in quarters, like football and basketball. Upon further review--and by that I mean I Googled ‘Hockey for Dummies’ and found a cheat sheet--I discovered that hockey was played in three twenty-minute periods.
Heather walked into my room to find me sitting on my bed, concentrated on my laptop, eyes darting back and forth watching the movement of the puck on the ice.
“Hey.” I glanced up to acknowledge her existence for a second and promptly got back to watching the game. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She leaned against the door frame, her voice was still raspy. “Actually, I was coming in here to check up on you.”
“Why?” I slightly raised my voice, irritated over the fact that the puck got overturned and the Sharks gained possession, again.
“Because you haven’t stopped yelling for the last ten minutes. What are you watching anyway?” She came over and laid down beside me.
“I’m trying to follow and understand how the heck this freaking game works!” My voice got louder when seeing #9 of the Sharks take a shot at our goal. Fortunately, the puck flew over the net and bounced off the glass before landing back on the ice. #27 on the Jets took control of the puck and shot it to the other end of the rink. The play was stopped by one of the referees, the commentators mentioning something about icing.
“What the heck is icing?!” I cried, quickly skimming through my cheat sheet. The stupid term wasn’t included in the stupid article; back to Google!
“Well, they’re not skating on a cake, that’s for sure…” Heather cheekily remarked, covering her mouth to cough. I intensely glared at her; If my eyes had the ability to produce laser beams, she would have been dead.
“Funny…” Finally, I found the definition on the internet. “Icing in hockey occurs when a player shoots from behind the red centre line across to the opposing goal line and the puck stays untouched.”
...What? The words were crystal clear coming out of my mouth, but they mushed together in my mind. Heather's grimaced look on her face made me realize I wasn't the only one confused.
“That didn't register in my head at all,” She blinked.
“Uggggh, why is this so confusing?!” I groaned in frustration, softly hitting my head on the screen. “Sports are supposed to be easy to follow!”
“I think you’re focusing too much on the technicality of the game rather than, you know… enjoying it?” Heather analyzed, I could hear the difference between her regular voice and her ‘I-studied-Psychology’ professional voice; it was a lower tone, and she enunciated more than usual.
“It's hard to enjoy when they haven't scored yet…” I anxiously played with the drawstrings of my grey hoodie. “I guess you're right. I figured if I was able to follow the game better and know the ins and outs that I would have something else to talk to Mark about.”
“Newsflash, Nina! You already talk to him about stuff! You were glued to your phone for a good two hours when you got home from work today! Plus, he already knows that you’re not a hockey expert so I don’t think he expects you to spit out stats or remember all the mumbo jumbo right away!”
Even though Ruby wasn’t home, I could hear her voice at the back of my head. Once again, I’m overthinking everything. I needed to stop stressing about learning everything right away and let it come naturally. Just enjoy the game.
All of a sudden the commentator’s voice got loud and full of energy. I looked up to see Mark with the puck, speeding down the ice past the Sharks’ defence and advancing towards the goal. He took a shot, the puck ricocheted off of the goalie’s padding and flew up in the air. In a swift and effortless motion, Mark lifted his stick and tapped the rebounding puck past the goalie and into the net.
SCORE!! Mark Scheifele bats the puck mid-air into the net for his first goal of the season! The Jets are now on the board; it's 2-1 with the Sharks still in the lead!
“He got a goal...” It took a moment to sink in, then the astonishment turned into excitement at full force. “Oh my God! He got a goal!”
My cheeks hurt so much from smiling, I couldn't stop clapping or squealing or bouncing on the bed. They replayed the goal from multiple camera angles, and each time the puck flew into the net I felt more and more elated, cheering each time even though I knew it was a replay. I could feel Heather's eyes on me, watching Mark celebrate his goal with his teammates; I was admiring the screen so closely that I could have gone cross-eyed.
“Look at you! You are smitten!” Heather chuckled.
“What! I can't admire a good goal?” I began to babble, trying to justify my behaviour. “It was a really good one! I KNOW I wouldn't be able to do what he just did! I can't handle a stick or hit a puck so fast like that! And yeah, maybe it did attract me to him more knowing that he's disciplined in a sport he plays professionally but it's mostly because of the goal! It looked awesome! I'm in awe! That's all it is…”
Heather rolled her eyes at my sad excuse of an explanation. “Neens, just admit it! You’re falling for him, he’s basically your boyfriend already!”
“Yes, I like him. A lot.” I sighed. “But he's not my boyfriend. We don't have an official label, not to mention we just met less than a week ago. Right now, we’re friends that are still getting to know each other and that have also kissed once or twice. I don't plan on rushing into a relationship anytime soon.”
“But you definitely wanna get into his pants…” Heather’s eyebrows wiggled up and down, a sly smirk spreading on her face. The thought of being intimate with Mark quickly processed through my mind and instantly my cheeks felt flush. I threw a pillow at her in retaliation.
“NO! Shut up! I have a hockey game to watch!” I faltered, trying to be serious but the muscles in my face betrayed me, forcing me to smile and giggle like a big dork.
Has the thought of being intimate with Mark run through my head before? Kind of, but not really. They’ve been innocent thoughts; very tamed, nothing remotely close to being pornographic. Like I’ve mentioned before, I have flaws; I’m insecure when it comes to my body and I’m scared that If I get too close too soon, I’m going to end up hurt. It’s happened before, and it’s messed with my self-esteem ever since. Therefore, I don’t want to put myself in that situation until the time is right and we’re both ready. Thankfully, Mark doesn’t seem like the ‘hit-it-and-quit-it’ type. His heart seems to be as gooey as a marshmallow, however, people can change as time goes by.
Heather left my room after the first period and I watched the rest of the game by myself, or at least I tried to. As much as I wanted to tape my eyelids open, I succumbed to my drowsiness at the beginning of the third period. All of my energy was sucked away during the second when the Jets came back in a big way from the deficit. Ruby came home from work and thought I was being murdered because of how loud I was freaking out over #13's goal. Heather had to reassure her that I had been acting like that all night. When I passed out, the score was 4-3; the Jets had the lead. I was optimistic about a win.
I woke up to my alarm on my cell the next morning. One of the girls must have been in my room; my laptop was set on the side table and my blanket was tucked tightly around me like a burrito. I unlocked my phone and saw that I received a text message at 2:30 AM. It was from Mark:
Hey, beautiful :) I know you're sleeping but I just wanted to tell you that we won! Got tied up in the 3rd and were about to go into OT but we got the game-winner just before the horn. I'm heading to bed now. I'll text you when I'm back in the Peg.
I miss you.
Although I felt restless, seeing that text from Mark revitalized me in an instant. Not only was I thrilled that they won their first game of the season, but reading that he missed me had me walking on air. And he called me beautiful again! If only this exhilarating, floating feeling could last all day (but it won't because I have to go to a job that I hate with every fibre of my being!) If only he was here, lying next to me in bed…
Remember, take it slow.
I replied back, telling him that I saw the game and congratulating him on his impressive goal. Also…
I miss you too.
It’s Wednesday. It’s the day of the home opener, and I’m freaking out.
“Nina? Simon is on his way. Are you ready?” Ruby asked as she walked into my bedroom to see me, wrapped in my housecoat and staring at the mountain of clothing I accumulated on my bed.
“No…” I huffed, lost in contemplation. “What does one even wear to a hockey game? I’ve gone through everything in my dresser!”
I couldn't believe this was happening. When it comes to plans made in advance, I'm usually the one that's punctual. I'm always ready before everyone else; my outfit is coordinated the day before, my hair and makeup are done hours prior to leaving, and I'm the one helping others and rushing them out the door to show up an hour early.
Right now, I'm all over the place; nothing in my wardrobe seems like it's fitting, my hair is half done and my makeup looks like, for lack of a better word, ass. At this rate, I'm not leaving my room. My chest was feeling tight, I felt nauseous and short of breath. This isn’t like me; I am always prepared!
I flopped onto my bed, burying my head under the pile of clothes like an ostrich. “I need help! I need an adult!” I whined loudly.
“It’s okay, I will help! Don’t worry!” Ruby reassured. I pulled my head out to observe her looking over the many options I had laid out. Surely, she would be able to find something. She dresses better than Heather and I combined. However, the expression on her face turned sour, her head shaking in disapproval as she threw clothing off the bed piece by piece.
“No, this won’t do...” She muttered under her breath. “Not this… Definitely not this… Gross… Plaid? Seriously? That’s a no!”
Deep breaths, close your eyes and take long deep breaths. Everything is going to be fine… I hope.
Finally, a saving grace. Ruby picked up a white turtleneck and a light bulb flickered on in her head.
“Good. This is good, We can work with this…” Ruby searched through the rest of my clothes and in no time, she was throwing an outfit at me. “Get dressed.”
She paired the turtleneck with a pair of high waisted denim jeans and a black belt. She ran out of my room and came back shortly with my black Chucks and the leather jacket I wore the night I met Mark. Once everything was on, I looked in the mirror at my makeup. I had no time to start over, All I could do was fix the smudged eyeliner that turned into eyeshadow and dab my face with the leftover foundation on my blending sponge. My hair was half straight, half wavy; no use in trying to salvage it at this point so I threw it into a ponytail.
“How do I look?” I looked towards Ruby, letting out a loud exasperated sigh and my shrugging arms falling to my side. On a scale from one to ten, my self-confidence was at a negative two.
“You look great! Very stylish!” Ruby complimented, trying to get my spirits up. It wasn’t working; I could feel my hands getting clammy, my mouth drying up.
“I am so nervous...” My voice croaked while fidgeting around with my sweaty palms. My head was overwhelmed with worse case scenarios. “What if Mark gets hurt tonight or if their team loses or both? What if I become some sort of jinx and he performs badly?”
Ruby cupped my cheeks in her hands and lifted my head up to look at her. “Tonight is going to be fun! There is no need to be nervous! It's as simple as going to a hockey game with your friends. You look fantastic and when Mark sees you cheering in the stands, he is going to feel so lucky! And if we're being honest, if you weren’t like a sister to me, I would bang. One hundred percent!”
I rolled my eyes while trying to stifle a chuckle, my frown breaking down into a straight, awkward grin. “You and your words of encouragement.” Weird enough, her idea of a pep talk did help a little bit.
Ruby’s phone buzzed. “Simon’s here!” She asked me one more time. “Are you ready?”
I took one more look in the mirror. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“This. Is. Nuts.” Simon's mouth dropped, his eyes about to pop out of his head as we were escorted down to the Jets’ locker room at Bell MTS Place. “I can't believe we're down here!”
“Whatever you do, don't go wandering off like you did at the Iceplex,” Ruby warned, her eyes following Simon's every move. “We don't need you getting banned and making Nina look bad. We're her guests and we should be thankful that she can bring us along.”
“Right! By the way, have I said 'thank you’ yet?” Simon put his hands on my shoulders, he was so excited I could feel him vibrating.
“Yes, about fifty times on the way here.” I let out a chuckle. Seeing Simon hyped up and Ruby discipline him helped calm my nerves. He was like a little kid at a toy store, wanting to touch and play with everything. We passed by a rack of hockey sticks and Ruby had to grab on the hood of his jacket to pry him away.
“Don't!” She scolded him in a deep, motherly tone. I bit down on my lip trying not to laugh but the staff member with us couldn't help but crack a smile.
“We do have a cleaning closet nearby if you need to put him in a time out,” They joked.
“Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.” Ruby pulled Simon away from touching a photo on the wall. “Apparently, leaving his harness and leash at home was a bad idea…”
We turned a corner and my stomach fluttered. There was Mark at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall waiting, hands tucked into his pant pockets and looking down at his shiny black dress shoes. He was wearing a dark navy suit, paired with a white dress shirt and grey tie. He looked like a different person compared to when I saw him on TV a few nights ago; his hair was freshly cut and styled to the side, and his face cleanly shaved. He glanced up and saw me, his crystal blue eyes and smile looking brighter than ever. My heart went rapid as we approached and Mark went in for a hug. His cologne was sweet smelling, like a flower garden after a spring shower.
“Hi,” We greeted in unison, both of us giggling at the coincidence afterwards.
“I like the suit. Blue is your colour!” I complimented.
“Thank you. What do you think of the baby face?” He asked. I gently touched his right cheek, his skin was so soft I was envious.
“I miss the scruff, but you look much more handsome.” Our eyes connected for a moment before I broke contact to look at him licking his lips. The urge of wanting to kiss him grew exponentially. However, the moment was quickly ruined by Simon, whose arm was frantically waving to the extent of producing a light breeze behind me.
“HI MARK!” He shouted in my ear, I winced.
“Hey, Simon. Hey Ruby,” He laughed. With her fast reflexes, Ruby grabbed Simon's arm in mid-wave and linked her arm with his.
“By any chance, you wouldn't happen to have duct tape lying around, do you?” Ruby inquired.
Mark shook his head.“No, just grip tape. I don't think it will help in restraining him.”
“That's okay. I'll just keep a close eye on him.” Ruby pulled Simon close to her. It was like watching someone trying to keep a hyper Cocker Spaniel puppy under control.
“Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys.” Mark grabbed my hand, his fingers interlocking with mine, and led me to the locker room.
Of course, the first thing I do when I walk in is almost break the most sacred rule in a hockey locker room.
“Careful!” Mark politely placed his arm in front of me, pointing at the carpet. “It’s a thing not to step on the logo.”
I look down to see my feet an inch away from the gigantic Jets logo on the locker room floor. I immediately distanced myself from it. “Oh, crap-- I am so sorry!”
“Scheifs! Did your girl step on the logo?” One of Mark’s teammates playfully chided, walking up and messing up his hair. I could hear Simon squealing like a girl behind me. Ruby covered his mouth to mute the sound.
“Nina, Blake. Blake is the captain of the team.” Mark introduced, I shook Blake’s hand.
“I didn’t do it, I swear.” I nervously smiled.
Blake laughed. “It’s all good, no worries! I heard it’s your first game tonight. Have fun!”
We continued around the locker room and I met more of the team. I couldn’t remember all of their names because there were so many people and they were all really tall. I felt like the only gnome on a lawn covered with garden flamingos. The only people I do remember were Andrew (because he’s Mark’s roommate), Tyler (because he was the tallest out of everyone I met), Patrik (because I couldn’t stop staring at his beard), and Dustin (because he recognized Simon as the guy who snuck into the locker room at the Iceplex and threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t leave).
“I’ll get him out of here,” Ruby agreed, pushing Simon towards the door.
“I’ll come with.” I took one last look around the locker room. “Everyone seems to be getting their stuff on, anyways.”
“Before you leave…” Mark walked over to his gear and came back with a light blue jersey, different from the typical dark blue and white ones I usually see around the city. “This is the new alternate jersey. I figured you would need something to show your newly found team spirit.”
I turned the jersey around to see his name and number on the back. “This Scheifele guy, is he a good player?” I teased.
“The best! Even better than me!” He quipped back. I took off my jacket and Mark helped me put the jersey on over my turtleneck.
“How do I look?” I modeled the oversized sweater in front of him. He gave me two thumbs up.
“Blue is your colour!” He praised. I looked down to admire the jersey. Compared to what I felt like earlier, my self-confidence was now at an eleven.
“It’s really nice. Thank you,” I hugged him one more time, I didn’t want to let go but he needed to get ready. “Good luck out there tonight.”
I stepped back to leave the locker room when I felt Mark’s hand squeeze mine. “Hey...”
I looked back at him and he pulled me close again, our noses brushing against each other. “Don’t I get a ‘good luck’ kiss?”
“Maybe…” I smirked, my hands resting on his chest. Mark lifted my chin with his finger and leaned in, his soft lips touching mine in a gentle, sensual kiss. Once again, our moment was ruined. This time by Mark’s teammates jeering at us to get a room, throwing their towels at our heads.
“Hey! Those better be clean!” Mark shouted. I gave him one more peck on the cheek.
“Get ready, please. Before they start throwing jock straps.” I ordered, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll see you out there.”
I left the locker room and made my way upstairs to my seat, which happened to be a few rows behind the Jets bench. Ruby and Simon were sitting down, beers and Jets Dogs in hand. Ruby handed me a beer as I sat down beside her.
“Feeling better?” She asked.
“Yeah, definitely.”
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sleepymarmot · 5 years
Text
ESO: MW - beginning of the main quest + Balmora and the outskirts
Very nice of them to apparently restrict the bookshelves to the chapter's books. The office in Seyda Neen immediately provides a lot of regional info.
Some galaxy-brained outlander book writer: Night Mother is Mephala actually! Me, who has never interacted with the Dark Brotherhood beyond fighting them: okay... sounds fake but okay...
It's so funny how Azura just hijacks a random person for a few seconds. She doesn't even say anything particularly important! Only picks up some poor woman like a ragdoll, says hi and leaves.
Ohh now I recognize this tomb from Morrowind! When I first played ESO, I stumbled here blindly after the quest marker, but now I could follow the familiar road and there it was.
At first I wondered why the dialogue with Canon Llevule used a wide camera angle instead of a usual close-up... Then I saw the dog in the background.
The tomb interior is so detailed and pretty.
Dunmer meditate in their ancestors' tombs, as I just learned.
Why are there skulls on spikes in the ashpits? Seems disrespectful...
That poor ancestor is like "No, no, that comes later... Have you really summoned me to talk about the wrong game?"
I had to do it. Before meeting Vivec for real, I had to equip all my Jester's getup for old times' sake. I didn't do the whole April Fools routine, just the bow. That throne room scene was surreal to witness again after I sat through it a dozen times months ago...
"On Moving Ebonheart" continues to be stupid.
The Archcanon's quarters look lovely... And he has not even one but two musical instruments! I'm jealous!
Omg the divination ritual looked really cool! I didn't expect this thing in the middle of the room just rotate and turn into a pool! Or for the tiny yellow stones in the images of Almalexia and Sotha Sil to actually act as their representatives/vessels of their power!
I'm sorry, "Balmora" is pronounced LIKE THAT? "BALL-mora"?! I guess it makes sense, they pronounce "Molag Bal" in a similar way, but I'm pretty sure it sounded very different in Morrowind! Well, let's write this off as language changing over the centuries...
Aw, the library is so pretty!
Is it just me, or is the face quality better than in the base game? I stare at every other NPC I talk to because they're all so handsome! (Except Vivec, lol)
I still don't like the decision to make Balmora a Redoran territory... I understand that it make sense that the land distribution is different from 800 years into the future. But it just make sense that the House with the bug as its symbol lives in bug-shell houses! They didn't take the fungal towers from Telvanni! (Even if they, inexplicably, made them look more like disgusting flesh growths than mushrooms or vines)
Oh, and just after writing out this complaint, I pick up a letter that says that Suran and Balmora actually do use "Hlaalu architecture when the contract clearly called for the utilization of a more dignified Redoran design". So at least that one wasn't retconned... And it explains why this territory eventually came into Hlaalu's possession. Got outsmarted, didn't you, meatheads... :D
Lmao does the Redoran councilor really have the same voice as about 80% of male Nords? Hello again, Shalidor...
Ashur is handsome and has a pleasant and well-acted voice. Is he popular with the fandom?
Heh, I can wager a guess on who Veya's mentor is...
Vestige, taking a mental note: Wait, is this the woman who helped me escape a slaver ship a year or so ago? She seems to know me better than I know her. Hmm, I really need to take Meridia's offer of time travel...
Um, why am I just naming Naryu to this councilor? Didn't I just get lectured about how she values keeping her identity secret?
I got discovered immediately after stealing the quest item. I am a big fat orc who summons hurricanes and wears a hat with bells on it! As you can guess, stealth isn't my forte!
The questline in Balmora is interesting, but I keep thinking about how my Dunmer characters would see it, as opposed to the Orc who has no loyalties at stake. The Ashlander would be happy to have an opportunity to help her people, but it happens in the middle of the quest, and at the beginning it's about helping a House councilor, which she is not interested in. On the other hand, the moderately traditionalist Redoran would be uncomfortable at keeping things from his councilor, even if it's for his daughter, and would agree with him on the land dispute.
Lol Naryu is like an anime character. "You thought you fooled me but I actually expected it all along" over and over again
A bigoted brute who took the framed man's job turned out to be guilty? You don't say!
"Blessed Almalexia's Fables for Morning" might be even more depressing than the original. It's surprising this nation isn't MORE fucked up!
Ooh, this final choice is going to be difficult for my Dunmer dude if I ever get to this quest with him... I'm afraid he would go for the cruel option. But Veya appears in Summerset regardless, I've heard?
A cynic's summary of this quest line: "Dear diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count".
The Balmora temple is pretty but so underwhelming as a religious building. It looks more like a library - and not a serious one at that! There are only three shrines, very tiny and brown. I'm sure many player homes have more ritual objects than this! Strange, especially considering how strict and religious this country is. You'd think a temple would not look so secular.
The Memory Stone quest has ABSOLUTELY ATROCIOUS writing and acting. I can't believe this is the quest that people on Reddit mentioned as something that made them cry! And it's hard to believe that it can exist right near something so complex as the Releth questline.
Balmora leaves me with mixed feelings. It's beautiful, and the main quest is good. But most of the doors are locked, and there's nobody to talk to. It feels empty, and so did Seyda Neen; I didn't get this feeling in the base game or Orsinium, and the Imperial City is supposed to be a wasteland.
The moon sugar delve quest has a difficult choice :/ I took pity on the Khajit, but I feel bad for the addict ex-cop. Even if this guy only grows the moon sugar for himself, we just saw how easily the crop can be taken over by real skooma dealers. I'd turn him and his notes in... but I shudder to imagine what Dunmer cops might do to a prisoner - especially to a Khajit.
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rustknuckles · 5 years
Note
“ you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together. ” / jess @ neens
@hopecut​ - idk which meme!!
         she nods, eyes closing before she’s running a hand through her hair which was wet and fuzzy. she hated when it got wet. quickly pulling it all back into a messy bun, neena started to feel the ache of her injuries. the muscles in her shoulders felt as though someone had struck them with a sledgehammer, her abdomen cried out for some form of reprieve, but neena couldn’t do anything to make it better. lucky, not invincible. a common misconception that both she and others always seemed to make. for once, she just wished that her luck would listen to her when she needed it. she wished that she had some magical healing regeneration like wade did, that fucker. but no, she was stuck to heal her own injuries like any one else. with a deep sigh inward, she then learned perhaps a rib or two had been broken, bruised at the very least. she was still in her merc uniform, bits of blood (unsure if it was hers or not) painted the uniform an unusual array of deep red.
she couldn’t remember the last time she’d failed a job so goddamn badly. her eyes stung from tears she’d unknowingly sprouted as her throat felt as though she’d swallowed concrete. domino always got the job done, and she’d never let anyone die under her protection before. but there had to be a first for everything, right? she’d taken a private, body-guard type of job, tasked with the protection of a what she was told would be a mature age senator, but ended up being a teenager, no barely even that. a child. that’s what she got for taking on shitty jobs for some quick cash. cash that she didn’t even get since she failed and the person she was supposed to protect died. how would she come back from something like that? how could she run future x-force missions after this? “fuck!” she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. neena wasn’t a crier, but there was tears leaking from her eyes that felt like they were boiling hot against her skin.
she was thankful for jess then, thankful for someone who didn’t want to pry into every detail of her mission. thankful that she wouldn’t try and coddle her or comfort her or do the whole it’ll be okay. she didn’t need that. neena would have thrown a damn near fit if someone had have tried that with her now. this was why she loved jess. she was just the right amount of understanding that she needed. the right amount of mutual respect and acceptance needed when working in the kind of work they did. “job kinda sucks sometimes.”  she swallowed thickly, hoping to try and line her throat with something so it didn’t feel so dry. without thinking, neena let her head rest against jessica’s shoulder, eyes closed and mind racing. “i think i need a holiday.”
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ollieofthebeholder · 11 months
Text
to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] || Also on AO3
Chapter 13: July 2016
[CLICK]
[ECHOING FOOTSTEPS, ONE SET OF WHICH HAS A DECIDED LIMP ]
MARTIN
Feeling better, Tim?
TIM
Yeah, thanks. Head’s a bit clearer. Nasty headache, but, uh, I think that’ll pass. Jon, how’s the leg?
ARCHIVIST
[Strained] It’s fine.
[FOOTSTEPS STOP]
MARTIN
Jon. Do you trust me?
ARCHIVIST
Wh—
[Deep breath] Yes.
TIM
Whoa.
MARTIN
Here.
[FABRIC RUSTLES, SLIGHT GRUNTING NOISES]
MARTIN
There, I’ve got you. You don’t need to make that worse by walking on it.
ARCHIVIST
Thank you.
TIM
What happened, anyway? Fuck, you didn’t get bitten, did you?
ARCHIVIST
Only by one. And Martin got it out. I’m fine.
TIM
But what if you’re…you know. What if you missed one? Will you end up like…
ARCHIVIST
I don’t know, I—
MARTIN
We didn’t. There was just the one. I’ll look again later, but I promise, Jon, you’re not Corrupted.
[BRIEF SILENCE, SAVE THE FOOTSTEPS]
ARCHIVIST
That’s twice now.
MARTIN
Huh?
ARCHIVIST
You keep using that word. Corrupted. That’s what you said Jane Prentiss was doing to the documents, too. And now…
I-it, it means something, doesn’t it? Something important.
MARTIN
Yes.
Look, Jon, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you before. I did. I was going to tell you about all this after she attacked me the first time. Actually, I’d told Neens to come tell you if she didn’t hear from me. I thought Prentiss sent her an all-clear, but turned out she never got my text in the first place, so—
TIM
Sorry, Neens?
MARTIN
Melanie. King. She’s my stepsister. How do you think I was able to get hold of Hannah?
TIM
Han—wait, the nurse from Ivy Meadows? What’s that got to do with…hang on, Melanie King is your sister?
MARTIN
Stepsister. Her mum died around the same time my dad left us, and—never mind. It’s not important. But yeah, that’s why she came to make a statement in the first place. She hadn’t heard from me in a while and just…wanted an excuse to get into the Archives to see me, but without letting people know we knew each other. Making a statement seemed as good a reason as any.
TIM
Why was that such a big deal? That people not know she knows you, I mean? If I were related to Melanie King, I’d be bragging about it to everyone that came through.
MARTIN
It’s kind of a safety thing. We’ve had issues in the past with…people…finding out we know each other and using that against us. Not letting some of the more dangerous people out there know you’ve got someone who can be used as leverage keeps them safe. I guess we’re just so used to protecting one another that it’s second nature at this point.
Especially after Gerry.
ARCHIVIST
I suppose I owe her an apology. It was true, wasn’t it? Her statement. I-it wouldn’t go on the laptop.
MARTIN
Yeah, a lot of…those things are weirdly resistant to a lot of technology. It’s probably why the video file was so…
ARCHIVIST
Corrupted? Distorted?
MARTIN
Messed up. That wasn’t…I don’t think it was either of those things.
TIM
And we’re back to “Corrupted means something important”. Distorted does too?
MARTIN
I…sort of? It’s not as big as the Corruption, but…
Okay, look. It’s a lot to explain and I’m…I dunno. Do you want to stop and have me tell you about it now?
TIM
In this mess?
ARCHIVIST
No, I—you can explain it when we get out of here. When we’re safe. Just answer me one question.
MARTIN
Sure.
ARCHIVIST
Why didn’t you tell me before?
You—you said you wanted to, that you’d told…Ms. King to tell me and she didn’t, but…you didn’t, either. Why not?
MARTIN
When I first got back? You believed me. About what had happened with Prentiss, I mean. And you were anxious enough, I didn’t…it didn’t seem like the time to lay out exactly what we’re involved in. I figured when things settled down a bit, I’d tell you.
ARCHIVIST
And yet, you didn’t.
MARTIN
…No.
ARCHIVIST
Why not?
MARTIN
Elias. He called me up to his office for a “chat” the day Melanie came to make her statement.
ARCHIVIST
I—I remember. You, uh, you didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the afternoon.
What did he—wait, does he know all this?
MARTIN
[Bitterly] Of course he does. You can’t run a place like the Magnus Institute and not be aware of Them, or what’s actually going on with the Leitners, or any of that. He knows, all right. And he knew when he hired me that I knew. He sure as hell knew before he sent me down to the Archives.
But he didn’t want you to know. I don’t know what his game is, I don’t know why it’s so important to him that you stay ignorant, but it is. I’m pretty sure he went out of his way to make sure you wouldn’t trust me, o-or believe me if I said anything, which kept me from saying anything at first. And then I got trapped, and we started…getting along better, and I was finally at the point where I was going to tell you everything. And then he talked to me.
ARCHIVIST
What did he say?
MARTIN
[Softly] He threatened to kill you if I told you.
ARCHIVIST/TIM
What?!
MARTIN
You wanted to know why I had a second tape recorder? That’s why. I didn’t—it was just him and me in his office and I don’t have any proof, so I thought…i-if I keep one with me, if anything like this ever happens again, I can record it and I can…I don’t know. It made sense in my head.
TIM
But to kill…do you think he really would?
MARTIN
Without a moment’s hesitation. It wouldn’t be the first time, either.
TIM
Jesus fucking Christ.
ARCHIVIST
[Incredibly shaken] All right, let’s—let’s discuss this later. Above ground, maybe. Where there’s light. And when we’re not…when we’re away from the worms.
Is there someplace safe we can discuss this? Is here safe?
MARTIN
I think so. It’s more of a strain for me to See down here, and I am down here, so I think if Elias has a way of spying on us, it doesn’t work well down here.
TIM
It’s a strain for all of us to see down here. There aren’t any lights.
MARTIN
That’s…not exactly what I meant.
ARCHIVIST
We’ll add that to the list. I promised only one more question for now.
Let’s just get out of here.
TIM
Lead on, Macduff.
ARCHIVIST
It’s “Lay on, Macduff,” actually. And that doesn’t—
MARTIN/TIM
Shut up, Jon.
[CLICK]
———
[CLICK]
[FIRE ALARM BLARING IN THE BACKGROUND, SOUND OF WORMS SQUIRMING]
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Ugh—shit! Watch your step!
SASHA
I can see them, thank you.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Great! Glad to hear it. Can you see where we’re supposed to go?
SASHA
It’s not like there’s a map. I don’t spend a lot of time in the maintenance areas of the Institute, but the boiler room should be—
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Who’s there?
SASHA
Elias!
ELIAS
Sasha. What are you still doing in here? You need to get out.
SASHA
The fire suppressant system—is it active? Did you find the switch?
ELIAS
There’s no point, I’m afraid.
SASHA
What? What do you mean?
ELIAS
[Almost pityingly] You can see how fast these worms are spreading. If they are truly as dangerous as Jon and Martin have believed them to be—and I regret to say I no longer have reason to doubt them—then they would not have come up here if there was any reason for them to still be in the basement.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
[Softly, somewhat panicked] No, no, no…
ELIAS
I’ve been trying to get to the boiler room since we were separated, but at this point, that is not the optimal course of action. We need professional help.
The fire brigade will have specialized equipment, and as soon as I get outside, I can call the ECDC as well, but for now, you need to complete the evacuation so they don’t need to worry about you when they get here. I cannot condone wasting lives trying to save the dead.
SASHA
What?! No! You don’t know they’re dead—
ELIAS
Sasha, if by some miracle they are still alive, how do you think they will react if they get rescued only to learn that you died in the attempt? Would you really be so cruel as to force them to live knowing you died painfully and unnecessarily—because of them?
SASHA
[Angrily] Don’t. Don’t you dare.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Get out of the way, old man.
ELIAS
I’m sorry, who are you? This is a private—
[SOUND OF FIST STRIKING FLESH. ELIAS YELLS IN AGONY]
SASHA
Come on!
[RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, ECHOING SLIGHTLY]
SASHA
I can’t believe you just hit him.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
I can apologize later if your job is on the line.
SASHA
Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do that for years. Never thought anyone would ever actually do it.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Yeah, well, he was trying to stop us getting down here, and I don’t believe for a minute it was out of concern for your safety.
Boiler room, you said?
SASHA
Yes. Here it is.
[DOOR OPENS. PIPES HISS IN THE BACKGROUND. THE FIRE ALARM IS A LITTLE FAINTER HERE]
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Shit, that’s a lot.
SASHA
There! There’s the override panel. We just need to find the right one…
Of course they aren’t labeled. Of course not. That ought to be il—ouch!
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
You okay?
SASHA
It bit me! Jesus, I didn’t think you could feel a spider bite…
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Where?
SASHA
Here.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
No, I mean, where’s the spider?
SASHA
Right there.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
Ah, there you are, you little bastard.
[CRUNCH OF FOOTSTEPS, RATTLE OF PIPE, GRUNT OF EFFORT]
[Low growl dripping with contempt] Mother, may I?
[THUNK OF A LEVER BEING THROWN]
[LOW HISSING NOISE]
[CLICK]
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lake-arrius-caverns · 3 years
Text
Nerevarine Rising
Chapter 3: Balmora
summary Fahjoth finds himself back in a place he once called home. He has somewhere to be, but first, a chance encounter makes his day.
content warnings none explicit for this chapter
tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)
read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍
:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::
    —————————————————————————————
The road northwest to Balmora turned out to be quite a long one. Fahjoth was on edge for much of the journey; he had departed Seyda Neen with nothing but the prison rags on his back and the delivery he was to take to Caius Cosades. He was unarmed, unarmoured and weak with hunger and exhaustion. By some grace of the gods, however, he encountered no real danger on the way. The worst thing to cross his path was a bloated maggot-like creature that hopped after him with a surprisingly sprightly gait and attempted to fasten its gaping, circular mandibles around his ankle. A few good hard kicks and stomps were fortunately enough to deal with the disgusting creature, and Fahjoth continued on his way. 
By the time he neared Balmora the rain had finally stopped, but a thick mist, stained a fiery amber with the setting of the sun, lay over the town and surrounding wilderness. The first thing Fahjoth noticed was the towering legs of the town’s silt strider, occasionally emitting its melancholy howl that caused the hairs on Fahjoth’s arm to stand on end. 
Filled with awe, he passed under the archway at the town’s entrance, and his eyes were wide as he strained to catch every detail that Balmora offered. It was just as he remembered it. Shops and houses lined the streets, with the town’s residents going about their business and the golden-helmed guards pacing to and fro, brandishing flaming torches that cast an aura of orange light as the sky continued to grow darker. He made his way through the town, his feet almost carrying him automatically along a route that had been committed to memory long ago until he found himself facing the Odai River that cut through the centre of Balmora. Now, which way was the South Wall Cornerclub? 
As he began wandering onwards, the sound of rapid footfalls reached his ears, growing louder and louder in a matter of seconds. And before Fahjoth could even think about reacting, a figure suddenly burst out of the alleyway to his left, taking a sharp turn and running straight into him. His shoulder exploded with pain as the figure collided with him, hard, knocking him clean off his feet and sending them both tumbling to the ground. 
With his nerves already frayed and tiredness hitting him hard, Fahjoth was quick to berate the clumsy bastard. “Watch where you’re going, mate! Nearly fucking took me out!”
“Yeah, well you—!” The Dunmer’s retort died midway through being uttered, as Fahjoth suddenly grabbed them by the shoulders and turned them to see their face. The moment he had heard that voice, his heart began to race. But he had to know for sure. 
Sure enough, his jaw nearly hit the ground as he locked eyes with his twin. 
“Ribyna?!” he gasped, barely able to believe what he was seeing. She donned a loose cloak over her head and the lower half of her face was concealed by a scarf, but she was unmistakable. 
“Fahjoth?!” Ribyna seemed just as shocked as Fahjoth did, but as Fahjoth pulled her into a hug, she was strangely reluctant to participate and instead endeavoured to free herself. Fahjoth was having none of it, however. 
“You’re alive!” he cried, his eyes already welling up with tears of relief and joy. “Gods, I thought you were dead! What happened? What are you even doing he—“ 
Soon he could no longer ignore Ribyna’s struggling, which was at first rather hurtful — but then his eyes fell on something glittering on the ground a short distance away that Ribyna was desperate to reach. 
“Is that a diamond—?!”
“Shut up!” Ribyna finally managed to escape and hastily scooped up the sparkling gems that she had dropped, spending a moment to dust both herself and the diamonds off. It was then that a cry was heard ringing over the otherwise quiet town:
“Thief!! I’ve been burgled! Guards!”
“Shit.” Ribyna extended an arm towards Fahjoth to help him to his feet, an offer which he accepted, albeit with bemusement. “Okay, play along, alright?” she requested, pulling her scarf down so that it hung casually around her neck. Fahjoth opened his mouth to question her, but Ribyna interrupted him, speaking loudly while throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Ah, so where was it you wanted to go? The South Wall Cornerclub, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, actually,” Fahjoth started, but Ribyna didn’t seem to be paying attention. She had already set off, dragging Fahjoth along with her and steering him over the bridge, going at a deliberately relaxed pace so as not to attract the attention of the patrolling guards. 
“Yeah, I can show you where that is. Come on, it’s just over here.” 
The twins walked in silence for the remainder of the short trip, and only once they reached the cornerclub and slipped inside did Ribyna finally let go of Fahjoth. “Oh, thank the gods for that. I was hoping to be back here before she noticed — you proper fucked that up for me, Fahji boy!”
“Ribyna, what the fuck’s going on?” Fahjoth started in bewilderment. Ribyna dropped her hood, staring up at Fahjoth with a small grin. 
“I can explain. But first of all, I think I owe you a hug, don't I?” 
“Damn right you do!” Fahjoth agreed, grabbing his sibling and pulling her into another tight embrace, one which she didn’t pull away from this time. For the first time in many weeks, Fahjoth felt at peace. To discover that his sibling was still alive, and to be reunited at last as free people filled him with complete and utter joy. 
After a few moments they pulled away, and Ribyna gestured for him to accompany her as she made her way through the halls and down the stairs of the cornerclub. Fahjoth followed suit, and she led him down to a dimly lit room which he surveyed with interest; several tables and chairs were spread throughout and an older man stood at the bar, wiping down the surface with a cloth. The cornerclub’s patrons sat or stood with their drinks, all of them eyeing Fahjoth as he entered the room with either suspicion or curiosity or a combination of the two. 
Ribyna sat down at a nearby table and Fahjoth followed suit, already opening his mouth and chattering away. “I honest to the gods thought you were dead, Beebs. How did you end up here, of all places? And...” He dropped his voice to utter the next question. “Did you really steal those diamonds?”
Ribyna shrugged. “I’m working.”
”Working? What kind of job has you running around robbing people?”
“Don’t go mad, alright? But I joined the Thieves Guild.” 
“You what—?” Fahjoth leaned across the table, his voice a low hiss. “Haven’t you had enough crime for one lifetime?”
“Well, I had to make some coin somehow!” Ribyna dismissed Fahjoth’s protests with a wave of her hand. “Anyway! You wanted to know how I got here? Well, when they took me from my cell, I thought that was it, y’know? I thought I was gonna die. Then they put me on a carriage, and then a boat, and then I ended up here. Well, in Seyda Neen.”
Ribyna’s story was sounding ominously familiar. “And then what?” Fahjoth prompted her. 
“Well, then they told me I had to be recorded at the office. They asked for my details, and get this... they asked if I was you.”
Fahjoth blinked, baffled. “You what?”
“Yeah, I know right? I know we’re twins but we don’t look that similar, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, they said I was the wrong prisoner — which was just fucking lovely — and they were gonna send me back to Cyrodiil. Well, I wasn’t having that, so I legged it. Makes sense that they finally hauled you over here as well.”
Fahjoth was silent for a few seconds as he mulled over Ribyna’s tale. “That’s mad,” he said eventually. “So it was just a big mixup?”
“Yup. So I suppose, in a way, I owe you my life!” Ribyna flashed him a grin from across the table. “Maybe one day I’ll pay you back for that.”
“Well, you can start by buying me a drink,” Fahjoth groaned. “I’m knackered.” 
“Yeah, you look it,” Ribyna agreed grimly. “You got anywhere to stay?”
“Not yet,” Fahjoth admitted. “But I’ve got to find someone. Bloke called Caius Cosades. I need to give some stuff to him.” 
Ribyna raised a brow. “So that’s what this whole thing is about? They pulled you out of prison just so that you can be an errand boy?”
“Maybe. Nobody’s told me fuck all,” Fahjoth huffed. Now that he was feeling relatively comfortable, he was ready to vent his frustrations. “I’ve just been told what to do and sent on my way. I’m so confused! And apparently, these orders have come from the Emperor himself. He’s the one who dumped me here — well, the both of us, technically.” 
“Bastard. Well, I s’pose we shouldn’t complain too much,” Ribyna reasoned. “If he hadn’t, I’d probably be dead by now.” 
“That’s true. I’m just...” Fahjoth waved a hand in exasperation. “I just wish someone would explain to me why I’ve been sent here. Surely anyone could be Caius Cosade’s delivery boy.”
“Aww, don’t put yourself down, Fahji, I’ll bet you’re a great little delivery boy,” Ribyna teased with a wicked grin. “Who is this Caius fella, anyway? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Well, I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. D’you know who might know where to find him?”
“Have you tried Bacolus?”
“I— you know I haven’t, I’ve only just got here.”
Ribyna pouted in thought. “Huh... oh yeah. Well, maybe try asking him — he’s the owner, he should know. Bacolus Closcius. He knows everything else that goes on around here. He’s probably upstairs.” 
“Alright. Cheers, Beebs. I’ll do that.” Fahjoth dragged himself to his feet as Ribyna did the same. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into another hug, which she gladly returned in kind. “Gods, it’s good to see you again.” 
“Likewise, bro.” Ribyna pulled back, giving him a hearty clap on the shoulder. “I’ll be here if you need me, alright? And I’ll get you that drink, too. You’ll have to fill me in about this Caius bloke!” 
“I will!” Fahjoth promised, constantly looking over his shoulder and waving at Ribyna as he departed. He was reluctant to leave her again so soon, but the knowledge that she was there and very much alive reassured him immensely. Besides, it was already late — he should at least try to find Caius Cosades before nightfall. “See you!”
“See you later.”
                           ———————————————
As Fahjoth left the cornerclub there was still a thin veil of mist hovering over Balmora, but the sky was almost completely dark now, and the light breeze that slipped between buildings brought with it a slightly bitter chill. The directions given to him by Bacolus Closcius were relatively straightforward to follow, and for that Fahjoth was relieved. All the walking he’d already done today — as well as the violent collision with Ribyna that had knocked him off his feet — had left him aching and desperate to finally find somewhere to settle for the night. 
But as he reached what he assumed to be Caius Cosade’s abode, he suddenly stopped, feeling as though he had been punched in the gut. He recognised that tiny house, sitting so nonchalantly at the end of the street. How could he not? Though it had been well over a decade since he last clapped eyes on it, it was unmistakably the same house that he and Ribyna had grown up in. Fahjoth was motionless as he was suddenly bombarded by an onslaught of resurfacing memories.
 “Dad, can we go down to the river again today?”
“Hmm... ah, why not. Let me finish brushing your sister’s hair first, then I’ll have to do yours.”
“Nooo!”
“Fahjoth, we have to, it looks like something a guar coughed up. Right, come here!”
“No! You can’t catch me!” 
“Haha! Maybe not, but I know someone who can. Get him, Ribyna!” 
After taking a moment to recover himself, Fahjoth raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the dense wooden door. For a few moments there was no response, and in the silence that followed Fahjoth began to wonder if he had tried the right house after all. But then came the sound of a muffled lock clicking and the door was cracked open an inch, and he took that as his cue to enter, cautiously pushing it open and stepping inside. 
Fahjoth was yet again thrown a curveball, freezing for a few seconds as he was halfway over the threshold and quickly averting his eyes. What was it with Morrowind throwing buff, shirtless men at him every few hours? But the man in question, who seemed completely unabashed, ushered him inside and closed the door after him. 
“Sorry— sorry for walking in on you,” Fahjoth began to babble, embarrassed. “I can come back later, or tomorrow—!” 
But the balding Imperial silenced him with a single wave of his hand. “Nevermind that. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
As he scanned the room for a distraction, Fahjoth began to notice what kind of state it was in. Books and empty bottles littered the floor, and even in the low light of the lantern on the table, he could see something very suspiciously pale and grainy in a bowl sitting next to it. Fahjoth grimaced; this surely couldn’t be the right man. Not who the Emperor had sent him to Morrowind to find... 
“Sorry,” he apologised again. “I was looking for a man called Caius Cosades. I was told to report to him.” 
To his immense surprise, the man folded his arms and nodded. “Yes, I’m Caius Cosades. Who told you to report to me?” 
Once again, Fahjoth was floored. His eyes darted once more around the room, taking in the sheer mess he was faced with, which said more than enough about its occupant. Then, finally, his gaze returned to the man — Caius Cosades himself. Why in Oblivion had he been sent to report to an old skooma addict? 
“I’ve... I’ve got something for you,” Fahjoth mumbled, holding out the package he had been entrusted with. He was still somewhat hesitant to believe that the man he was looking at was indeed Cosades, but what was he supposed to do? Argue with the man over his own identity? That would go down well. 
Cosades took the package, shooting Fahjoth a brief squint before turning his back and busying himself with inspecting and opening the package. Fahjoth waited, wringing his hands and feeling almost afraid to so much as breathe in this cramped, cluttered room; quite frankly, despite being much older, Cosades looked as if he could easily break Fahjoth’s neck, and considering the amount of alcohol and skooma lying around he couldn’t completely discount this possibility. So he waited, until at last Cosades turned back, his expression stern. 
“Very interesting. So. You’re Fahjoth Vetharys, correct?”
“Yessir.”
Cosades waved a scrap of parchment as he spoke. “It says here the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades. And that means following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders, Fahjoth?”
“The Blades...?” Fahjoth had a feeling he already knew exactly what the Blades were, but he had to be sure. But Cosades’ response confirmed his suspicions. 
“We're spies. We're the Emperor's hidden eyes and ears in the provinces. We watch the Emperor's enemies. We look for opportunities. We make reports. And, when the Emperor commands, we obey. Now... Are you ready to join the Blades and follow my orders, as the Emperor commands?”
“Right…” Fahjoth dropped his gaze to the ground, his brows furrowed in a deep frown. So not only had he been released from prison and sent to another province, but he was expected to join what was — by the sounds of it — the ranks of the Emperor’s top-secret, elite agents? Fahjoth, a Dunmer who could barely read, had spent six years in prison and had no specialist training or magical ability? 
Fahjoth tried to put into words how ridiculous this seemed, how incredibly outlandish the concept of recruiting him to the Blades really was, but instead, infuriatingly, what came out of his mouth was “Yessir.”
“Excellent. Welcome to the service, Novice Fahjoth. Now you belong to the Blades. I’m sure you and I will be friends in no time. You can sleep here if you need to rest, but leave my personal stuff alone unless I say otherwise.” 
The look on Fahjoth’s face said more than enough, and Cosades was quick to notice. “You’ve got questions, then? Let’s hear it.”
Fahjoth nodded, clearing his throat to gather his nerves before he spoke. “Yeah, um... I just... Why?” He struggled to hide the frustration he felt now, and winced as he heard it creep into his voice. “Why have I been sent here, and why am I joining the Blades? I don’t mean to sound rude, sir, but nobody’s told me nothing at all since I got here. I’m not... I don’t have any real strengths or skills or anything like that. I’m really just... nobody.”
“All in good time, Novice. First of all, we should get you settled before we start on your orders.” Cosades paused to prop open a strongbox on the shelf behind him, from which he fished out a rather fat coinpurse and tossed it over to Fahjoth, who struggled to catch it without dropping it. The sudden weight was surprising, and Fahjoth felt his stomach lurch as Cosades went on. “First thing, pilgrim. You're new. And you look it. Here's 200 drakes to get yourself a decent weapon. Or armor. Or a spell. Or whatever it is you feel most comfortable with.” He stopped again to evaluate Fahjoth, eyeing him from head to foot with a frown. “Get some proper food in you as well, you’ll no doubt need to be in top physical condition for some of the tasks you’re given.”
The slight insult that came from Cosades’ insinuation was completely overridden by Fahjoth’s sheer amazement at the amount of gold he now held in his hands. 200?! That was more gold than he’d ever laid eyes upon in his entire life! 
“Thank you, sir,” Fahjoth said, still in a state of disbelief following the night’s events and developments. 
“Secondly, you’ll need a cover identity,” Cosades continued. “Around here, ‘freelance adventurer’ is a common profession, believe it or not. Or, you can join a guild for some proper work. Sign on with the Fighters Guild, or Mages Guild, or Imperial cult, or Imperial legion, and gain skill and experience. Or go out on your own, look for freelance work, or trouble. What you do makes no odds to me, as long as you come back in one piece with more experience than you went out with. When you're ready, I'll have real orders for you." He stepped forward, closing the gap between them and clapping Fahjoth rather forcefully on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Vetharys. But first of all, you should get some rest. Like I mentioned, you’re welcome to stay here, as long as you don’t touch my stuff.”
“Alright,” Fahjoth replied with haste, more than willing to agree to that. Cosades intimidated him slightly, though he would never admit that to anybody — least of all Ribyna, who would no doubt have had a field day teasing him about it. How he was ever going to explain any of this to her remained to be seen, but he decided to ponder that tomorrow; the itching of his eyes reminded him of how desperate he was for a nap. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’m gonna try and get some sleep then. Been a... bit of a long day, y’know?”
“Certainly. Here.” Cosades grabbed some of the sheets and pillows from his bed, tossing them over to Fahjoth — again, without any warning, leaving Fahjoth to scramble desperately to catch them all. “It’s not much I’m afraid, but it’ll do for now.”
“Course, sir. Thanks.” Though he was still feeling rather apprehensive as he arranged his new bed on the floor in the corner of the room, Fahjoth was in deep reflection as he bid his new boss goodnight and settled down to sleep. Although things weren’t much clearer now compared to when he had first been taken from the Imperial Prison, he had a lot to be thankful for; his twin was alive and well, and on top of being a free man, Fahjoth now also had a job, an allowance of gold and a roof over his head — a far cry from the life he used to live, even before his six-year-long incarceration. With this in mind, his last thought before he drifted off was to just take each day as it came — no matter how much more confusion or how many surprises may yet lay ahead.
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