#yeah i think there is some irony directed all around here in two stubborn forces meeting lol!
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semoto (corpse x fem!reader)
4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions
pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context.
basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:
sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life.
sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while
sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.
sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.
fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension.
1. “Whaddup, baby?”
Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.
But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack.
Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let’s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off,
About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.
The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.
You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t.
“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”
“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”
“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.”
You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.
2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”
It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.
You’re so tired.
Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver.
But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--
“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls.
The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.”
“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony.
“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”
“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”
“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”
“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
“Not your baby, piss off!”
3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”
It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.
Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.
The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”
There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis.
“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine.
“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”
Warmth. Strength. Oblivion.
“I know. Thank you.”
4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.”
“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly.
“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”
“I mean, you really don’t have to--”
“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”
“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”
Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way.
The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name.
“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”
“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.”
“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”
“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”
“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?”
“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”
“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately.
“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night.
And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.
That you have no one else but Corpse.
5. “He was never yours.”
There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times.
This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak.
You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech.
“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”
Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition.
“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void.
“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all.
“Are they talking about Corpse?”
“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”
“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”
“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind.
“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here.
“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.
“Is this a fucking test--”
Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be.
“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”
It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”
“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”
Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?
And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee.
“Do I have to give you an answer?”
“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”
They what? This was certainly news to you.
“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively.
Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--
“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”
You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more.
“You have 10 seconds.”
You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long.
The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage.
They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives.
“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”
It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run.
You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.
And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve.
But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--
Forever out of reach.
#corpse x reader#corpse husband x reader#corpse x y/n#corpse husband x y/n#corpse x fem reader#corpse husband angst#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband
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Blood Spatter - Part 9
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4: Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8
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Angrily, Miho growled at her aggressor as she was shoved into the next room. Her confusion, fear and ire suddenly paused, however, when her eyes fell upon two figures also present. They were on their knees, their hands bound behind their backs, one with bruises all over his face – left eye swollen – the other’s face torn by bloody tears.
Sebastian.
Selina.
“What the hell is this?” Miho barked as her abductor closed the door behind him.
For a moment there was a weighty silence, with Miho seeking answers from her friends, though in their beleaguered state they were the least likely to provide them.
“Unfortunately, we couldn’t do this in a gentler manner,” the man behind her declared, looking over Miho’s shoulder at his two compatriots.
“Do what?” Miho spat. “Because kidnapping and assault aren’t exactly synonymous with gentleness.”
“Whatever they say…” Sebastian began, but his sentence was broken when he was thumped on the back of the head with the grip of a gun.
Both Miho and Selina let out cries of protest, the former starting forward, but her arm was seized once more.
“Whatever we say, ultimately you’ll have a choice,” the man told her, his gravelly voice rough against her ear. “You have a purpose far and beyond the paltry existence you’re floating aimlessly through, and we’re going to make you face it.”
“My life is mine,” Miho grated, “and it has nothing to do with them. You need to let them go, let us all go.”
The response to this statement, was the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of Sebastian’s head.
Miho’s trembling increased, and Selina let out a thick sob.
“Please,” she begged, blood dripping from the tip of her chin.
“Why?” Miho gasped. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because Vérrún’s legacy vanished hundreds of years ago in a line of impotent male children,” the woman holding the gun to Sebastian’s head answered.
Sebastian’s eyes grew wide.
“Vérrún?” he blurted, his good eye flickering to Miho. “It’s not possible. That line was cursed.”
“Freya is incapable of forgiveness?” the man sneered. “She has no sense of irony giving his gifts to the child he murdered?”
A bitter, incredulous chuckle, crackled out from between his broken lips.
“You think she’s a reincarnation?”
“Reincarnation, curse broken, it matters not,” the man asserted. “She’s going to awaken and take up her ancestor’s mantle.”
It was clear Sebastian knew what it all meant now, as with a grimace, his focus turned to his sister.
“You can’t,” he snarled, and despite the threat of a bullet to his brain, he lunged sideways.
The force with which he was restrained should have fractured his cheekbone, his face slammed into the concrete floor and held there.
“Stop, stop it!” Miho barked, her face a snarl of viciousness. “You’re going to get nothing from me acting like savages.”
“We require your awakening regardless,” the man told her frankly, picking up a large knife from a tray behind him - a knife, perhaps closer to a machete. “Vérrún’s line has remained dormant since the beginning, but now the curse is lifted, you have the potential to be all that he was and more.”
“Still a shitty sale’s pitch,” Miho grated, teeth bared as the blade was offered to her.
“The choice before you is simple,” he told her, disregarding her commentary. “Kill the vampire and awaken, or decline, and we kill them both.”
Miho’s lungs seized up.
“Vampire?” she repeated, a cold sweat finally breaking out.
It couldn’t be Sebastian, he couldn’t have been turned or his wounds would have healed… which meant…
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Miho’s eyes fell upon Selina.
“Oh God,” she murmured, her head snapping back as the man put the knife hilt against her palm. “I will not be killing anyone.”
“Even if you do not apply the killing blow, you will still be responsible,” he pointed out. “Two, instead of one, and a fellow hunter - that would be tragic.”
“You fucking bastards!” she roared, gripping the blade, white-knuckled.
She could swing at them, but bullets moved faster.
It was impossible.
Impossible.
“I can’t kill Selina, I can’t, I can’t…”
Sebastian pleaded with her silently to do something, Selina too, but it was…
Impossible.
“You… you want me to kill a vampire? Where is the one who turned her?” she rushed desperately.
“We…”
“I’ll gladly kill that creature!” Miho declared vehemently.
How long had she been at the hospital? Selina was not a vampire when she left the club with Jazz; she could not have been turned that long ago, and it boggled Miho’s mind how quickly the world had yet again been turned on its head.
“That is not the choice before you,” the man said sternly.
“Why? Why them? You don’t need them to awaken me!” she protested, heart galloping a thunderous cadence.
The sound of gun hammers clicking caused the stampede to stumble.
“You’ll let him go?” she forced out, but the first reaction came from Sebastian, despite the cold streel against his head.
“No!” he shrieked, and on reflex Miho snapped back.
“The hell do you want me to do?” she fired, eyes burning, throat burning. "What can I do?”
“This one cannot be saved now,” the man pointed out, gesturing to Selina. “The question is only one of lesser evils.”
“The only evils here are you!” Sebastian snarled, and copped a heavy knee in the spine for his trouble. “You’re not hunters, you’re monsters!”
“Is this the moment I become a killer?” Miho wondered, as Sebastian’s shouting and Selina’s crying faded out, drowned, suffocated by gravity drawing the blade toward Selina’s neck.
“No… please…” she begs, held down by two, the man taking a handful of hair and forcing her head down. “Miho, please!”
“No matter what I do, I lose. No matter what, any innocence I have remaining will be demolished.”
“Miho, please!”
“And I’m selfish for thinking about how this will affect me. A murderer.”
Sebastian sounds like an angry bear as I ready my blade. They’ve ceased holding him at gunpoint, focusing instead on just keeping him prone, preventing him from intervening.
“I’m sorry,” Miho muttered, but it has to sound hollow to the condemned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Again Selina howled.
Then stopped.
The blade was impossibly sharp.
The thud of a head hitting concrete, grotesque.
It rolled to the side.
Looked up at Miho in horror.
Selina’s flesh did not burst into flame or crumble to ash like she thought a dead vampire’s might; it was like any other corpse.
A corpse because Miho made her one.
There’s blood on my hands – I can’t see it, but it is most definitely there.
Why they let me go, I don’t know; maybe they wanted to see what I’d do, where I’d go, who I’d call.
My feet are moving but they have no sense of direction or destination: invisible footprints in the asphalt as deep and dark as my sin.
They released Sebastian too, but on the dark roadside before dawn, he wouldn’t meet my eyes, couldn’t.
I can’t blame him.
I killed his sister.
He told me to leave, to walk, but never said where; and I know he’s angry, and in pain, and I shouldn’t feel angry at him for responding that way - but now what?
“Do you feel different now?”
All that talk about a cursed bloodline I’m supposed to be descended from, but the only curse I know now is my reality.
I cannot seek refuge with my best friend, a vampire who like Selina was turned. The shame alone is heavier than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I cannot run to Kiril, who made it clear the only thing that bound us was the witch’s spell now broken, regardless of whatever lingering emotions may still dwell within me.
And I cannot pretend I’m still me, or rather, I’m a different me who was - how could I not be with a conscience as stained as this?
Some part of me hopes Narumi finds me, so I can tell her everything and have it done with. Perhaps she would drag me before Kiril’s father and that would be the end of that. But I’m too stubborn to hand up my head on a silver platter, my drive to survive too strong to just roll over.
“Fuck,” I whimper, flopping down onto a park bench.
That word, however, just doesn’t cover it.
At least my head doesn’t hurt anymore.
“Ha!” I laugh aloud, alone with morning approaching.
“Caw!” a nearby crow echoes, hopping comically along the path toward him.
“Yeah?” I huff, watching as it tilts its head, observing. “If you’ve any advice… I’m…”
Thinking is one thing, but the moment I attempt to vocalise a proper sentence the words get caught up in my abject distress.
“What… SOB... do I do?”
“CAW!” the crow responds, much as I expect.
The voice that follows, I do not.
“Why might you be out here all by yourself?” Narumi asks from behind.
I might have flinched, but I’m too deep in my misery.
The bird hops up beside me, then onto Narumi’s shoulder, burrowing its beak into her hair while she moves around to face me.
“Has something happened, Miss Fujiwara?” she probes, leaning a little to study my face.
Even through the watery glaze across my eyes, I see her as different, different than the last time.
There is a bright glow in her eyes, like a cat caught in torchlight, and her hair is shiny: fine threads of polished metal.
“Are you… are you asking as a cop?” I managed, quiet and thick. “Or as Kiril’s cousin?”
Scrubbing my eyes makes room for more tears, but the lethargy of my body, the heaviness of a falling blade, has for some reason lightened. I’m on edge, furtive, noticing everything around me, and Narumi is at the centre of it all.
“For now, Kiril’s cousin,” she responds, sitting down beside me. “What has the idiot done now?”
My trembling lips betray a most inelegant splutter, a wet chortle.
“Not him,” I tell her, but I dare not reveal too much.
So I ask a question instead.
“Have you ever killed someone?”
“Yes,” she answers, no hesitation at all. “Sometimes, criminals give you no choice.”
Maybe she knows I’m not talking about her career, maybe not.
“No choice,” I repeat, face twitching to hold back another torrent. “Sometimes, there is no right, just evil and evil and the one who perpetrates it.”
“Have you killed someone, Miho?” she inquires more gently, and I close my eyes.
“I am lost, so, so, so lost,” I weep, shaking my head. “Can’t change what I’ve done, who I’ve hurt. I’ve nowhere to go now.”
“Against my better judgement, I’m going to call Kiril,” she tells me, then flinches when I suddenly get up.
“No, no, it’s broken now and he doesn’t want me.”
“What’s broken?”
“No! I can’t tell you that, none of it,” I bark, and she rises carefully with her hands before her.
“You have Kiril’s protection,” she assures me.
“Not anymore.”
The urge to run is overwhelming, and I haven’t the will to defy it.
My dart to the left gives me several second’s head-start, but Narumi nearly dislocates my shoulder snatching my wrist.
It’s a reflex, the way I round on her and shove with my free hand, but this instinct not only breaks Narumi’s hold, but throws her violently back, cartwheeling across the park until she tumbles into a manky pond.
And I blink at how easy that was.
Sopping wet and stunned, Narumi drags herself from the shallow water and sizes me up.
“That should not have been possible,” she points out, and even through my own surprise I hear the new edge to her voice.
This time, it’s my hands that go up.
“I know,” I admit shakily. “But it is, and it’s not my fault, it’s not - I had no choice!”
“No choice in what?” she very nearly growls.
She must have been going gently, gently, for Kiril’s sake, and vaguely it reminds me of when Kiril said he’d hate to have to kill Narumi because she was a threat to me.
“But that was when we were bound by magic.”
In my moment’s reverie, Narumi has swept in behind me, but she keeps her hands to herself - her tone, however, is full of warning and restraint.
“I… think you should call Kiril now,” I exhale weakly, despite my show of physical strength.
“After that, I know I shouldn’t,” she contradicts, and several small black shapes drift from the sky and perch nearby.
A murder.
Liana, Kai and Kiril all arrived at the same time, in a cab, not the Jag. As they entered, slivers of glass sparkled in Liana’s hair, and there was a little blood on Kevin’s yellow body. Miho might have commented on the state of Liana and Kai’s slight dishevelment, but she was trembling, twitching, preoccupied by the incessant bouncing of her right foot - up down up down up down.
Anything but look over at where Kiril stood on the other side of the room where Narumi had moved to greet him.
“Looking ravishing as always,” he noted, looking his muddy cousin up and down.
“You can thank your little pet for that,” Narumi grunted irritably. “Threw me good on twenty metres.”
“Is she hurt?” he asked, and Narumi put her hands on her hips, glaring.
“She bloody well should be sprawled at Konrad’s feet right now, Kiril!” she exclaimed, pointing over her shoulder. “And you too. Protecting a hunter? Are you fucking insane?”
“No doubt,” he agreed calmly, stepping around Narumi and approaching Miho with significant caution.
He too had felt the spell break, a searing slash across his consciousness distracting enough to not hear the ring of his phone until Jazz had called for the third time; Miho was missing from the hospital and no one had seen where she went.
“Miho,” he said cautiously, and her head lifted: neck muscles taut and jaw clenched.
“Here to kill me I suppose,” she said plainly, and Kiril’s brows twitched.
“If had wanted that, Narumi would have done it for me,” he pointed out, then paused.
She did not fill the silence.
“Tell me what happened,” he prompted, sitting down beside her, not crowding, but not lifting his attentive gaze.
Immediately, Miho’s eyes began to burn. With flushed face and dribbling nose, she jumped up and began to pace.
“I left the hospital, then… I passed out, and when I woke up I was inside, somewhere, and there were hunters…”
Kiril nodded, but made no comment.
“They said they’d been looking for me, and insisted I…”
That is as far as she got before crouching on the carpet, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face against them.
“I killed her!” she sobbed into her kneecaps.
“Who, Sparrow?” Kiril urged, with a gentleness that surprised Narumi who was definitely eavesdropping.
“Selina,” Miho gasped, choking on her shame.
“The stoned girl from Pale,” he nodded, moving over to her once more. “Ross’ sister?”
She couldn’t answer, could barely breathe.
“This may not work at all, but if you allow it in,” he said, finally placing his hand against hers. “Let me ease your panic and pain.”
Blearily, she looked up, but did not recoil.
Kiril could feel the natural resistance of her hunter blood now, blocking his influence of power over her emotions.
“Come on, Sparrow,” he urged softly. “Let me in.”
Lips quivering, Miho managed a slight nod, and the fortifications dissolved.
After a few long sighs, her sobbing began to subside, and Kiril was able to ease her to her feet and shuffle her back to the sofa.
“Better?”
Weakly, she inclined her head.
“They turned her, forced a vampire to turn her,” she expounded. “Then they said if I didn’t kill Selina, they would kill her and Sebastian.”
Kiril took this in, thought it over before voicing a response.
“I can understand why the hunters would want to awaken you - their numbers have dwindled in the last half century - but it makes no sense to make you their enemy in the process. Why Ross’ sister and not the one who turned her?”
“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked meekly, staring across the room at the wall. “Two vampires dead, a hunter woken and… Sebastian… must hate me now.”’
“If you were forced to do this or else see him killed also,” Kiril reasoned, “he will see as much, when the dust settles.”
A tap at the window drew the attention of Narumi only, and she opened it to allow a raven entry.
“We now know who they took to turn the Ross girl,” she announced, petting the bird’s glossy black feathers. “He was young, but his mother is Lady Elzebethe Archdall.”
Reflexively, Kiril cringed.
A noble.
“Konrad is going to learn of this,” Narumi warned.
Scowling, it was Kiril’s turn to pace.
“Liana,” his voice snapped. “Find me Sebastian Ross.”
With a curt nod, Liana assented and exited with Kai in tow.
“I do not like this,” Kiril muttered, stroking his chin.
“What’s to like?” Narumi laughed. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t order me to stake you, then myself for what we’ve already hidden.”
“No,” Kiril snapped. “This is politics, this is contrivance; hunters do not awaken their own like this, and I have doubts our involvement in this is a coincidence.”
“Your involvement,” Narumi corrected.
“Oh no,” he sniffed. “You made your choice, so you might as well help.”
“Help a hunter?” she chortled. “Why wait for Konrad to order it, I may as well stake myself now.”
“Use your legion to find the hunters that did this,” Kiril growled, glaring at his cousin until his head snapped to where Miho had begun moving toward the door. “And where are you going?”
“Away,” she dropped. “From her and you and this.”
“Like hell you are,” Narumi retorted, in a blink barring the exit.
“There is nowhere far enough you can run that Konrad won’t hunt you down,” Kiril affirmed.
“So far he doesn’t even know, and if he did what? I should just wait here for him to find me?” she frowned, spreading her hands, then pointed at Narumi. “For her to lose her nerve and turn me in?”
“That’s my job,” Narumi countered irritably. “One I will no doubt lose, along with my head, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” Miho barked, cutting the air with her fingertips. “You! You and yours in my club messing with people’s hearts and minds.”
“I’m about to mess with more than that,” Narumi warned, already stepping in Miho’s direction again, before Kiril’s arm dropped between them.
“Enough! The both of you,” he shouted. “I forbid you from harming her.”
Narumi balked, eyes wide and mouth agape.
“You forbid me?” she repeated slowly, threat creeping into her voice. “Oh, I called you out of familial courtesy, but that is obviously not, nor has it ever been, high on your agenda.”
She tried to dodge around him, reached for Miho who did not move, but swiftly found herself slammed against the wall a foot off the ground, with Kiril’s grip tightly around her throat.
“I will end you,” he hissed up at her, eyes blazing.
“You’ve lost it!” Narumi croaked, digging her fingernails into his wrists, through the flesh, against the bone.
He was older than her, stronger than her, and her inherited powers would not help her against him.
“Maybe so,” he snarled. “But this is the way things will be, and if you double-cross me - Konrad or no - I. Will. End. You.”
There was no time for her to respond before he pitched her across the chamber, and though she turned in the air to make a more graceful landing than Miho might have managed, it still ended with the crash of splintering wood and torn upholstery.
“Time to leave,” Kiril prompted, reaching for Miho’s hand, but she was swift to recoil.
Still, when he narrowed his eyes at her, she inhaled deeply, set her jaw, then headed out the door.
With Kiril’s resources at her disposal, Liana made her way to the registered address of Sebastian Ross. Even though she thought it unlikely the traumatised hunter would return to his primary abode, it was a place to begin.
“What are we going to do when we find him?” Kai asked, carrying Kevin from the car with him. “He’s a hunter, so…”
“We shall be careful,” Liana responded. “I imagine he will be much like a wounded animal - he may snap.”
“You’re stronger than him though, right?”
At the front door, Liana paused to consider this. In her travels with Kiril she had encountered hunters not bound by the treaty in effect across the U.K., but she had always been apart from the fray.
“I would sooner we didn’t have to test this,” Liana replied. “Master Kiril wishes him unharmed.”
”If he attacks you, I won’t hold back,” Kai stated, puffing up. “Neither shall Kevin.”
“And you’re both very brave,” she smiled fondly. “But let’s first aim for diplomacy.”
“I don’t care who you are,” a gravelly voice snarled through a nearby intercom. “Fuck off.”
“Well, that is a surprise,” Liana mused, allowing herself a small smile. “It would seem he’s home.”
“And rude.”
“Well,” Liana chided, “a close friend did just murder his sister in front of him, so we might give him a pass on foul language for now.”
She then lifted her voice and pressed down on the intercom.
“Mr. Ross,” she began, and Kai recognised this as the tone of voice she used when she was attempting to convince him of something he most adamantly did not want to do. “My name is Liana Starling and my companion is Kai. We have come on a matter of great importance and to offer assistance.”
Silence followed as she paused, and Liana gave him some time to process what she said and respond.
But he did not, so she forged on.
“I understand you have suffered terribly this evening. You have been caught up in dealings beyond your control, and largely beyond the control of Miss Fujiwara.”
That got a reaction.
The inner door opened violently, and a rather intimidating looking firearm preceded the apartment’s resident, though both remained behind the security door.
Kai, though a child in appearance and quite short even for his apparent age, slid instantly in front of Liana with his arms outstretched. Liana, however, remained perfectly composed.
“Your emotions are raw,” she said gently, nodding her head a little. “But there is unfortunately more to this tragedy than what you witnessed this evening, and now you are a part of it.”
“Why are you here, vampire?” he spat, his aim not wavering.
Though several feet away, Liana could smell the alcohol on his breath; he’d imbibed so much, in fact, she was sure she could smell it in his blood.
“Miho Fujiwara was the victim of a spell cast by as yet unknown parties,” she answered. “This led to her involvement with Kiril Lambert who…”
“Bullshit!” Sebastian spat, the muzzle of his weapon slamming loudly into the taut lattice weave that separated them. “She went chasing Konstantin Lambert…”
“Yes,” Liana agreed, and continued before he could. “In order to locate your mutual friend, Miss Mann, and while you may not have agreed with or appreciated Mr. Lambert’s help, surely you hoped for Miss Mann’s safe return.”
“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” Sebastian grated through clenched teeth, “then I’m going to destroy you both, treaty be damned. Why are you here?”
“I was told by Mr. Lambert to locate you,” Liana answered calmly, even as Kai shifted his meager weight nervously from foot to foot. “Implicit in his instruction was the directive to inform you of details you could not yet be privy to, and accompany you to his estate.”
Exhausted by distress and fury, the laugh that shook from Sebastian’s chest was at best sardonic.
“You have ten seconds to get off my doorstep,” he chuckled, waving his gun around, “before I kill you, oh, and send whatever’s left behind back to Mr. Lambert.”
“You will not,” Kai growled. “Magic forced Miss Fujiwara and Kiril together, and those hunters kidnapped her and made her choose - she didn’t want to kill you, it’s not her fault!”
“Six seconds,” Sebastian sneered.
“The vampire used to turn your sister was the son of a powerful noble, so that in and of itself will come to haunt the hunters of this city, you included, whether you’re independent or not,” Liana picked up, though she still remained unruffled. “The ones who forced Miss Fujiwara’s hand have an agenda here far and beyond the awakening of another hunter, and it may very well cause blood to run in the streets of London as it once did.”
“You want to talk about blood?” Sebastian snarled.
“I want to talk about all the other innocent lives that may be lost if the vampire nobility decide what befell their kin was an act of war,” Liana clarified. “It will reach far and beyond your fledgling friend Jazz, whose position is already precarious; people who have nothing to do with any of this, and certainly have no knowledge of it, will be caught helplessly in the crossfire.”
When Sebastian slammed his bare fist into the wire door, it punched all the way through, causing Kai to flinch against Liana, who placed her hands lightly on his shoulders.
“I just lost the only family I have left!” Sebastian roared, following his punch with a kick that launched the door outward at speed.
Had Liana not sidestepped, dragging Kai with her, it would have collected them both.
“You want me to give a fuck about anyone else right now?”
“What I want is irrelevant,” she pointed out, fingers tightening on a little as she felt him tensing to move. “What is necessary to avert a major catastrophe, however, is your co-operation. You do not have to like it, me, or anyone else involved, but it is what it is. Beneath your pain, you know this to be true.”
“Fucking, manipulative vampires!” he cursed, enraged but somehow his eye reflected at least some acceptance of what she had said.
“I don’t care if you hate me!” Kai muttered under his breath, then glared up at Sebastian. “But Liana is trying to help you and your friends, so you should stop being so mean.”
“Keep your minion out of my way,” Sebastian growled, eyes flashing before he stalked past them down the path.
PART 10 - Coming EVENTUALLY!
#original fiction#vampire#vampire fiction#vampire romance#kiril lambert#konstantin lambert#miho fujiwara#sebastian ross#jazz mann#conflicting loyalty#blood spatter#witches#hunter#original content#OC#manipulation#spells#politics#drama
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The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned
Scars of the Past Still Fester (Chapter 4/7)
Word Count: 6871
TW: Referenced child abuse, slight body horror
Hey, look, a chapter that didn’t take two months to come out! I started writing this not long after I came back from my hiatus because, in tragic irony, the beginning of this chapter is basically a condensed version of the shit I went through the few days before my hiatus and, in practicing rare self-care, I decided to hold off on writing this till after a week of everything happening so I didn’t fester in my grief.
This chapter also REALLY toes the line between platonic and romantic with Ven and Ferreth. It’s especially evident towards the end but I want to think it has some semblance of it being platonic, though that depends on your definition of platonic. Anyway, I loved writing this chapter and I hope I was able to convey the seriousness of “Characters laying bare parts of themselves they don’t want others to see to each other and having their walls down” it deserves.
Read on AO3 | Read on DA
It was the first step she took Ferreth noticed something was off. Her eyes not wanting to focus, the sluggish way her body moved, everything in her demeanor sent him on the alert. It was only when Ven began to collapse, he realized something was very wrong.
He caught her before her head hit the ground. Fear gripped his heart as he panicked over what to do. Was she hurt internally? Would it be safe to carry her back to Thal Esari if she was? What if she was already…? He couldn’t bear to finish the thought. His anxiety only worsened the longer time passed.
“Ven? Ven, come on. Wake up for me, honey, wake up.” He gently shook her in an attempt to wake her up. “Ven, please… I need you to be okay so just. Wake. Up!”
No response. Despite the ever so slight rise and fall of her chest, nothing would ease his worry more than seeing her violet eyes again. He cradled her close, memories of that horrible time beginning to plague his mind.
The sound of his mother hacking up phlegm and blood. Her once strong and robust body withering away to nothing. Her voice and smile so weak and frail. Her warm brown skin becoming pallid and sickly. His hope of her recovering from her illness slowly waning till the day she died. Him watching her die bit by bit while he could only stand there, feeling helpless to do anything. He forced back the tears that were ready to be shed, as well as the painful memories.
He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t lose another person he loved while he stood by, knowing he could’ve done something but didn’t. No. He was NOT going to let history repeat itself. Taking a deep breath, he swept an arm under her legs, picked her up, and sprinted off towards Thal Esari.
Back through the forest and into the field, he ran. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it was his fault she got hurt. If he just refused to listen to her, if he just brought her back by force, she would be okay. Her being pissed at him was so much better than wondering if she was alive or not.
Please be okay, he kept repeating in his head. It was more of a prayer than anything else. A prayer among all the what-ifs and maybes, something he desperately hoped for a god above to hear.
As he neared Thal Esari, his ears picked up murmurs from Ven in his arms. He looked down to see her stirring awake and his run slowed to a walk. She slowly opened her eyes, glancing around and coughing some.
“What…happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“You passed out and I couldn’t get you to wake up,” he replied, anger beginning to seep into his voice, “so I’m carrying you back to Thal Esari.”
“...I’m sorry.” She averted her gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you worry over me.”
“Damn right you are!” he snapped, stopping his walk. “Do you know how scared I was when you wouldn’t wake up?! I don’t even know what the hell would’ve made you pass out like that!”
“Ferret---”
“You told me you would be okay and, me being the effing idiot I am, believed you! God, why do I even listen to you sometimes?! I thought---I thought you were…”
A couple tears quickly slid down his cheeks. The thought of losing her was always there but this was the closest he felt to that fear becoming reality. He never wanted to feel like this ever again.
“Ferreth.” Her hand caressed his cheek, wiping away another fallen tear as she tenderly smiled. “I’m okay.”
Her touch brought him comfort, which he gladly leaned into. If she was able to do that, she mustn’t be badly off. For someone who claimed to be bad with people, she certainly knew how to make him feel better.
Retracting her hand, she said, “I’m okay to walk so you can put me down, okay?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you passing out on me again.”
“I��ll be fine.”
He carefully set her down, staying close by her side in case she wavered. She took a tentative step forward, then another and another. It was when she started to sway he walked up and caught her before she fell.
“I’m just a little tired,” she said drowsily.
“You want me to carry you so you can rest?” he asked, helping her stay up straight.
“No, I’ll be okay, I just--” a yawn escaped from her mouth before she could try and cover it-- “need your arm till we get there.”
She grabbed his arm and rested her head against it, closing her eyes. How she could stand and walk while sleeping, he’ll never know. For now, though, they needed to continue on their journey. He made sure to take it slow so as to not jolt her awake while she slept.
No one paid much attention to them after they passed through the gates. No one, except for a certain lackey. He felt eyes watching them but he wasn’t sure if they belonged to the same person from earlier today or yesterday. Either way, they were being stalked and their every move was being reported to Filaurel. If only he could find the bastard and order them to pass the success of their deed on to the hag… Maybe then, she’ll stop having them followed.
Ignoring that, he needed to search for a doctor. He doubted anyone would help him find one and he certainly didn’t want to wake Ven up to ask if she knew where one was. He was on his own.
After a painstakingly long time of looking, he found it. A small clinic, with faded white paint coming off in flakes and dark green window shutters, stood in front of him. Its only window was simple in only having six glass panes for people to peer through to the other side. A wooden sign hung above the door with Elvish writing carved into it. It might’ve said “Doctor” on it but his fluency with Elvin left much to be desired. Feeling there to be no other choice, he swung the door open and went in.
A lone elf sat at a desk, which had papers scattered everywhere. They appeared to be writing something down before lifting their head up to look at them. They stood up from their chair and came around the desk to greet them. He was able to take a better look at them once they stepped in the light pouring in from outside.
They were significantly shorter than him, though not to the extent Ven was. Dark brown hair tied into a long, thick braid hung over their shoulder and brown eyes hid behind silver-rimmed glasses. The stark white overcoat they wore contrasted their olive skin while showing off a slender yet lithe body. He hoped this person, whoever they were, could help Ven.
“I’m Dr. Sharian Elcan. What seems to be the problem?” they asked, adjusting their glasses.
“Well…”
From there, he told them of the events that occurred over the course of their trip. He had to throw in some white lies here and there so they wouldn’t get suspicious. It’d be hard to explain the existence of a chimera in the swamp, after all. Thankfully, they seemed to believe his story and directed them to the back.
“All right, Ven, time to wake up.” He placed his free hand on top of her head and ruffled her hair.
She yawned and blinked her eyes to wake up. Soon as Elcan noticed the color of her eyes, their whole personality did a 180. What was once calm and collected became agitation as they suddenly began ushering them out the door.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the big deal?!” he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks, “You just told me you could help her!”
“Sir, your friend is a Vlixeox. I don’t treat them here,” they said with contempt in their voice.
“What the hell does her being a Vlixeox have to do with you helping her?!”
“Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Take her to another doctor, if you must, but I’m not treating her.”
“Ferret, let’s just go, okay?” Ven urged, gently tugging on his arm to leave.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What was with this village hating Vlixeoxs for no other reason than “just because”? Ven being a Vlixeox shouldn’t be a point of contention and shouldn’t stop her from getting what she needed. Her race didn’t make her any less of a person deserving of basic decency. She may be fine with being looked down upon but he won’t let anyone treat her like that while he was around. The problem lied in trying to convince this prick to help her.
That was when the idea struck him. As horrible as the thought may have been, it was the only thing he could think of that would work. It’d essentially be bribing someone who clearly didn’t deserve it but… If it meant Ven would be looked at, his worries would be calmed, then so be it.
Letting out a disgruntled sigh, he asked, “If I give you all the money I have, would you help her?”
Her fingers tightened on his arm while Elcan asked incredulously, “Are you trying to bribe me?”
“If it means she’ll be okay, then yeah.”
“You’re not gonna leave until I do what you want, huh?”
He nodded, giving the doctor time to mull it over. He hoped the prospect of money would overrule their prejudice. Greed was a powerful motivator for getting even the most stubborn of people to do your bidding, after all. They gave them an answer a moment later.
“Fine… Take her to the back and I’ll look at her.”
Relief washed over him and he led Ven to the back of the clinic. There were five beds lined up in a row, with curtains acting as dividers for each one. A wooden cabinet filled with medical stuff stood at the western end of the room. They seemed to be the only ones here, which was good since it meant they got the doctor’s full attention. At least something was in their favor today.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking up at him after he helped her up onto the bed. “I’m all right.”
“I know I’m being a little overprotective but--” he butted his forehead against hers while stroking a thumb over her knuckles-- “I just want you to be okay. Once the doctor gives you a clean bill of health, I’ll stop acting like a mother-hen.”
“Don’t leave me, okay?” she whispered, her eyes pleading.
“I’ll be right here so don’t worry.” He squeezed her hand to comfort her and brushed his lips against her temple.
Elcan came in just then, holding a clipboard and pencil. They did the usual check-up stuff, like taking her pulse, checking her cognitive faculties, etc. The only thing left to do was mark the injuries she may or may not have off. When they suggested a more thorough examination, that was when hell broke loose.
“No---stay back. Stay away from me!”
“Miss, I need to make sure there aren’t any serious injuries on you.”
“I don’t care! I know I’m okay but I’m only here because my friend’s worried about me when he doesn’t need to be.” She turned to him, clenching his hand in hers. “Ferret, I’m fine, let’s just go.”
He knew why she was acting like this. Of course she’d react like a cornered animal to that seemingly benign approach. It was because of that. Letting someone see something that, not only makes you self-conscious, but serves as a reminder of the hate people have for you being different carried too much weight. No way would she want anyone to see it, least of all a complete stranger.
“Ven, I know it’ll be hard but please let them help you,” he begged, hoping she’d listen to him.
“Ferret---”
“I know I’m being a dick right now but they need to know what they might have to treat.” He brushed his fingers through a lock of her hair that wasn’t in the ponytail. “Do it for me?”
She balled her hands up into fists in her lap and stared at the ground. He felt like an utter asshole for saying that to her, knowing it’d tug at her heartstrings. He just wanted her to be okay. His worries may be completely unfounded but he’d rather be overreacting to nothing than be caught unawares by something avoidable. Moments later, she spoke, her answer shocking both him and the doctor.
“All right, but I want you to do it.”
“Uh, Ven, you do know that I have next to no medical expertise, right?”
“So? When has that ever stopped you? You’re the only one I can trust with this and you know I won’t take no for an answer.”
Well, that came back to bite him in the ass. She knew how to turn the tables on him and, even if it annoyed him at times, he loved that about her. Now, however, there was another dilemma on his hands.
Once her mind was set on something, it’d be impossible to change it, but he didn’t know anything about medicine and the like. Then again---as she said---when has his lack of knowledge on something ever stopped him? The problem was, if he missed something and it turned out to be serious… But she seemed fine right now. He could only hope she just had cuts and scrapes.
One defeated look from him was all it took for Elcan to know. It was futile to argue against it and they acquiesced. No matter their concerns, Ven would just dig in her heels till they eventually gave in.
Elcan walked over to the cabinet and took several things out. They placed two trays, washcloths, bandages, and a vial of clear liquid on the counter below. Was all that really necessary just for some cuts, he wondered. They came back and pulled him aside to tell him what he needed to do.
First was to fill the trays up with water and soak the washcloths in them for a few minutes. Then clean the blood and dirt off the open cuts and scrapes. After that, pour some of the liquid in the vial on the washcloths to disinfect the wounds. Lastly, only use the bandages on the ones he felt were worser off than the others. It wasn’t perfect but it’d have to do.
They then headed back to the reception area, leaving the two of them alone. Neither spoke, letting silence envelop the entire room. Orange light peeked in from the front of the clinic, filling in the space between them. The quiet soon turned into tension, with the looming realization of what was about to come next hanging above them. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.
The moment of truth. He never thought he’d actually see the scars she had told him about many times before. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined them and it was more out of a sick sense of curiosity than anything. It’s only because of his urging he was able to see them today. Guilt gnawed at his heart, knowing he was forcing her to do something she wasn’t entirely comfortable doing. This moment should’ve come on her own time, no matter if she trusted him.
“So…” He let out a shaky breath, attempting to calm his nerves. “You wanna just get…that over with?”
“Can you…promise me you won’t say anything about them when you see them? I know they won’t be nice to look at and…I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“I know you’re already super nervous about me seeing them so I won’t say anything. I promise.”
He swore he heard her sigh in relief. Not surprising, since this was probably her first time showing her back to anyone, which had to carry fear he’s never experienced before. If he had to make a promise to her to ease her anxiety just a tiny bit, he’d gladly do it.
Giving her time to mentally prepare herself, he went over to the cabinet and started doing the tasks Elcan had given him to do. He placed the trays under the faucet and filled them to the brim. With washcloths now soaked, he put everything on a nearby medical cart and wheeled it over to Ven’s bed. He shut his eyes tight upon arriving, in case he walked in on her undressing.
“I think…I’m ready,” she said, sounding unsure.
“You sure?”
“Not really but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves once more. He felt nervous and afraid yet he knew there was no way out of this. Was he really about to see them? The many physical reminders of the pain she suffered? His heart raced as the large bundle of nerves he had began to unravel. No time to waste, he just had to do it and get it over with. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes.
Scars upon scars were layered over each other on her small back. Many of them curled around to her chest or over her shoulders and left dark mars on her pale skin. Others were small enough to only fade over time. It was easy to tell she struggled to turn away from the whip as it struck her, as if they held her down while they doled out the abuse disguised as “punishment”. Seeing these horrific scars, knowing they were inflicted upon her as a child, rendered him speechless.
He felt angered, outraged at this. How could anyone think this kind of torture was okay to do to a child? No matter how much they want to try and pass this off as punishment, it was abuse. Cruel, sadistic abuse given to an innocent girl with the unlucky fortune of being born a Vlixeox. She didn’t deserve to be mutilated in public for something as petty as stealing. No one deserved something like that, period.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her. How they weren’t in the right for doing that to her, why she didn’t deserve the shit they heaped on to her. Just anything to convince her she did nothing wrong and wasn’t the monster they or even she herself claimed to be. But he doesn’t. He made a promise to her and he planned to uphold that promise.
Scattered across her back were small red scrapes and patches of smeared dirt. He brought the medical cart closer, never taking his eyes off her back. The scars looked even worse up close than they did at first glance.
“Well, I see some stuff that needs to be cleaned so…” he said, subtly warning her of what was to come.
She braced herself by taking in a deep breath. He dabbed at a bloody scrape on her left shoulder with the wet washcloth. She let out a whimper as soon as the cold water touched her, her hands squeezing the side of the bed to death. Despite trying his best to be as gentle as possible, his touch was still enough for her to flinch from. Her scars ran deeper beneath the surface, he knew.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m just not used to…being touched there. It feels weird.”
“I’ll try to take it slow and be gentle, okay?”
Silence fell between them once more. Instead of it being the uncomfortable quiet of before, it was more of an intimate quiet. He gently wiped the dirt and blood off her back and soaked the dirty washcloth in one of the trays. She didn’t flinch as much as she grew comfortable with the cold yet light touches to her scrapes. It was only when he dabbed at them with the disinfectant she recoiled away, though that was more from the stinging than anything else.
“All right, that’s your back done,” he said, wringing the dirty washcloth. “Now we can move on to the others.”
Putting her shirt back on, she asked, “Is it okay if…I talk for a little bit?”
“Yeah, I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing while you talk,” he replied. The day she’s had, she was probably wanting to vent to him.
“Okay…” He began washing the dirt and blood off her arms. “I don’t know if they’re the only ones that died but those names I yelled at you earlier? They were people I knew from when I was a kid.
“Leena, Aila, and Travaran were a group of kids that’d play by the plaza everyday. Aila used to carry these large books around with her to read and I think Travaran and Leena were brother and sister. I always wanted to ask if I could play with them but I was too scared to really do it since I knew the adults wouldn’t allow it. I think Leena would try to come near me sometimes but she was probably scared of me like everyone else was.
“Braern was a fruit vendor over at the marketplace. I loved eating the apples he’d lay out sometimes.” He disinfected the cuts on her arms. “I think he felt sorry for me because there were times he’d catch me stealing from him and he would just let me go without saying a word. I appreciated that.”
She held out her legs, continuing, “Vaeril was a vagrant but he used to be a great storyteller. He’d weave the most wonderful stories about adventurers going on these grand quests and people from all over the village would gather around just to listen. I was always so fascinated with them and yearned to hear more. He never said anything bad to me but if he ever hated me, he never let it show.
“Rathal was a person I didn’t know much about. I guess you could say I knew more about their dog than them.” She let out a short laugh as he cleaned and disinfected her legs. “His name was Lucky and he was this big, fluffy dog that always knocked me down to the ground whenever we played together. Rathal didn’t seem to mind, though they probably got annoyed with how loud I was at times. I hope someone took care of Lucky after…they died.
“Seldanna…was the only kind one.” She paused, gripping the hem of her shirt tightly as he soaked both the dirtied washcloths in the trays. “She never hurt me or said horrible things to me. She’s why I love flowers so much, because she’d always tell me what each one was and let me see them up close. I don’t know why she was so nice to me but I’m happy she was.”
She muttered out an apology as she wiped away unshed tears. Hearing her talk about the people that died made him realize just how tragic this all was. She never wanted to hurt anyone, much less kill them. She just wanted to stop her tormentors from whipping her again. They meant so much to her, even if she didn’t understand the small acts of kindness they did for her back then. Even if Filaurel didn’t grant her forgiveness at the end of all this, it was clear they forgave her.
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she continued on, “I know that me telling you all this ultimately doesn’t mean much but… To me, these people mattered and they deserve to be remembered as they lived, not as they died. They deserve to have their tales told, even if it’s by someone who only knew them for a few years. It seems ridiculous that I’m saying this, I know, but… It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s…” he paused, racking his mind for the right words to say, “it’s---good that you think that. I mean, in a way, they live on through you and the other people they touched in their lives. They may not be here anymore but that doesn’t mean they’re gone forever. I like to think that, so long as they’re remembered and the memories you and others have of them are shared, they’re not truly gone. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah,” she replied, giving an emphatic nod. “I’ll keep them alive in my memory. Until my time comes and I meet them again, that’ll be all I can do. I hope they’ll be okay with that.”
A soft smile illuminated her face, warming his heart. He wasn’t a philosophical person by any means but he believed in what he said. No one’s truly dead until they’re irrevocably forgotten. He learned that from his mother beyond her grave and he hoped people would do the same for him when his time came to pass.
“That sounded like something Eric would say,” she said, sliding off the bed with his help.
“Being wise at times is something he and mom have in common,” he replied. “’Cept he’s a lot more clumsy about it.”
She let out a small giggle as they walked out the clinic. Elcan didn’t bother acknowledging their departure, instead continuing where they left off. He placed a small pouch on the counter before going out the door. He planned on sticking to his word, even if they hadn’t really treated Ven. At least it meant the good doctor now owed them a favor if they needed it.
As they walked back to the house, he found himself staring at her back. The image of her scars still lingered in his mind. It was easier to imagine what they looked like because he didn’t have anything to go off of back then. Now he knew and they were more horrific than he’d ever thought them to be. He only knew because she might’ve been forced to show him, regardless of whether or not she ever planned on it, which made this even worse. Making her reveal something so personal where she’s at her most vulnerable wasn’t fair. While it ultimately was still her choice, it should’ve been under better circumstances. He felt like an utter asshole.
That was when he decided. If her scars had to be shown to him, he’d make it even by showing her his. She had the benefit of hers being well-hidden while his were clear for the whole world to see where they were. It’d be easy to assume the bandages he wore were a fashion statement when their true purpose was the complete opposite. A dull ache began to emanate from his forearms as he tried to ward off the memories of that day.
Once they came inside, Ven flopped onto the couch. She was probably exhausted after the events of today and wanted nothing more than to sleep. With shaky hands, he took off his gloves and started undoing his bandages. No one outside of his family had seen the aftermath of the accident so this was a first for him. No going back, he repeated to himself as the layers on his fingers had unraveled.
“Hey, Ven, before you drift off to dreamland, you mind giving me a few minutes? I wanna show you something.”
She sat up, brushing away the hair that fell in her face. More layers had been shed, both wrappings spiraling down to the ground. He kept his arms hidden from sight as he sat on the table across from her.
“It isn’t fair I saw your scars when you haven’t seen mine. This is so we’re even.”
The last of the bandages fell away and brought his arms out from behind him. Her eyes widened in shock at the horrid sight. Brown and gray stones of wildly differing sizes appeared to be embedded in his arms down to his fingers. Some were like pebbles while others were like rocks. Dried blood stuck around the edges of where they cut into him, no matter how much he’d clean them. The skin on his arms was a pale brown compared to the rest of his body, due to how much he kept them under wraps. Despite how bad it looked, this could never measure up to hers. Still, the feeling of hiding something you didn’t want others to see under any circumstances was all too familiar to him.
A hand covering her mouth, she asked, “H-how did this happen?”
“You remember when I said me and my brother would compete with each other when we were kids?” She nodded. “Let’s just say I got cocky and did something stupid in an attempt to win against him. Next thing I know, I’ve got these rocks in my arms.”
“Is there a way to fix this?”
“Hell if I know. These have been with me for over a decade and a half at this point and are probably staying with me for the rest of my life.”
“Do they hurt?”
“Eh, not really. I’ve gotten used to the pain over the years and they only really hurt if I’m not careful with the cleaning.”
She reached a hand out as if to touch them but stopped. If she was worried about hurting him by doing that, there wasn’t a need to. Hell, he was actually surprised at her eagerness.
“You can touch them, if you want,” he said, holding his arm out to her. “It’s not gonna hurt me any.”
Taking a glove off, she hesitantly touched a stone. Although the pain hadn’t bothered him, they were still sensitive enough to make him flinch. She ran her fingers across both his arms, as if checking to see if they felt the same. She seemed almost fascinated by this, doing everything short of poking and prodding him. This couldn’t be a pleasant experience for her but she showed no sign of being grossed out.
“Ferret, I know you said I could lean on you whenever I needed it and--” she took both his hands into hers-- “I want you to know that you can do the same to me.”
“Ven---”
“You can lean on me the same way I do on you. I know I can’t do much other than listen but I want to be there for you like you are for me. You’re my friend, Ferret, so please know that you can lean on me whenever you need it, okay?”
He let out a snort and laughed. This was typical Ven fashion, being incredibly kind to someone who’s done nothing to deserve it. Whether or not he treated her with basic decency or his nonexistent self-worth, there’s no way he earned it. He didn’t object to it, though, knowing her vehement denial of things he knew to be true.
“Jeez…” He leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
Why would she want to stay with him? He wasn’t special. He was just a common Earth Dradnach with no outstanding skills or qualities. He was always second-best to Kandorinth and everyone considered him a disappointment. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he trained, he could never live up to their expectations. Someone as extraordinary and wonderful as her shouldn’t want to stay with someone as ordinary and worthless as him.
Yet, for some unimaginable reason, she did. She wanted to be with him, regardless of how inferior he believed himself to be. She didn’t care if he was a dime a dozen amid a class of Dradnach. She liked him for who he was and saw the worth he so desperately wanted to believe he had. There was nothing he could give her that even came close to everything she’s given him.
She pulled away and stood up to sit at his right. She took off her other glove, revealing her injured hand from when she cut herself earlier today. The bandage he wrapped was still there, a dark red stain right where her palm was. He wondered what she was doing.
“Hey, Ferret?” She intertwined her fingers with his and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m really happy to have you in my life.”
All coherent thought was just thrown out the window. He knew he had to be blushing while a part of him, deep down, was screaming. He was used to women being forward with him and having casual flings with them. It was completely different when the woman he’s in love with was being this bold with him. Just keep calm, he repeated to himself as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate.
“I’m truly blessed to have a person as wonderful as you in my life. You treat me with such love and kindness and I don’t deserve any of it. You make me so, so happy. As selfish as this is, is it okay if you stay by my side just a little while longer?”
Lacing his fingers with hers while resting his head atop hers, he replied, “Only if it’s okay if you stay by mine a while longer as well.”
She squeezed his hand, giving him his answer. They stayed like that for a time, basking in each others’ warmth. He didn’t doubt she loved him, though he knew it wasn’t in the sense his love was. That was okay. They didn’t need to love the same way to want to be with each other. They had something that didn’t need to be defined because it was what it was. A lifetime relationship between two people, whether they were friends, lovers, or something in-between.
Her hand went slack in his and he looked down to see her sleeping. The poor girl must’ve been so tired yet she still stayed up as long as she could. He smiled softly as he tenderly brushed away strands of hair tickling her face. Now was the time to put her to bed and end today on a high note.
Carefully picking her up, he carried her to her room. This was his first time going in there and it was dark. The only source of light came from the moonlight peeking through the vines from the window just above the bed. From what he could see, the glass was cracked, as if rocks had been thrown at it, and the bed was small with light blue sheets. She probably spent the nights of her childhood in here as well, which made him grimly wonder about the broken window.
Disregarding that, he gently laid her on the bed so as to not wake her up. He took her boots off and placed them near the end of the bed. He didn’t dare unstring her cloak or let her hair down; that might’ve been pushing his boundaries. He pulled the thin blanket laying by the side of the bed over her body. Before he left the room, he let his eyes linger on her sleeping form as he whispered something into the air.
“May you have a peaceful rest and sweet dreams, Ven.”
A wave of exhaustion swept over him as he collapsed on the couch. God, today was one hell of a fucking day, he thought bitterly. He couldn’t wait for their trip in this hellhole to just end already. If it weren’t for him resigning to Ven’s inexplicable need to be here despite her fear, he would’ve taken her back home on the first day. At lease she wouldn’t be reliving her childhood trauma.
This trip had done nothing but hurt Ven so far. Meeting the bitch responsible for all the pain she endured and getting berated left and right sucked, to say the least. Then today managed to one-up that by forcing her to confront the vengeful spirits of the people she accidentally killed in the form of a fucked up chimera, of all things. If only they could leave sooner rather than later…
What the hell even was that thing, anyway? That thing couldn’t be natural, someone had to have used a power of some kind to revive the dead. Vlixeoxs and Sealyphs were the only races capable of that but that’s searching for a needle in a haystack. No way was it coincidence they were sent to kill that creature. He knew exactly who was to blame and her motive for doing so.
For now, however, they could take it easy for a little bit. Their task was complete and they still had two days left on their time limit. Tomorrow was a new day, a day they can kick back, relax, and do whatever they wanted.
If what she went through today didn’t earn her her forgiveness, nothing would. She’s shown more remorse for her “crime” than most others would. Maybe she’d finally forgive herself if Filaurel gave her that. Still, knowing the kind of person she was, he had a feeling she’d pull the rug out from underneath her and refuse to pardon her.
Well, whatever happens, he’ll be there for her, for better and for worse.
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Reunited
Strange Magic Week 2017 - Canon Divergence Theme
AO3 link
A year ago, Marianne thought she knew what true heartbreak was. She had cried and wallowed, convinced that her pain was beyond measure.
How miserably foolish, because now, kneeling here in the dirt, at the edge of a cliff, staring down into a dark, dusty void where a mighty castle and its equally mighty king had fallen only moments before sunrise, she realized…
…hell, that pain hadn’t even come close to this.
It was as if a falcon had ripped a chunk from her breast with its razor-sharp talons and she was bleeding a river from the wound. Her frozen shock gradually melted into tears pattering the uncaring ground, and she found herself longing to fade with the waning night that had shown her such wonders.
As the cruel morning grew, so did her despair, for it was a reminder of the endless slew of days she would continue to face alone. To think, she once had the gall to believe she was stronger that way. Oh, the irony! She was as fragile and tragic as frost on a wilting lotus.
It was all her fault.
Why?
Why hadn’t she listened?
She really was stupid.
So, so, so STUPID!!!
If she’d gotten back, as he’d warned her to, he wouldn’t have had to slow down his momentum. Both he and Dawn would’ve made it out safely. But no, she just had to be all stubborn and heroic! Never counting the cost, just acting without thinking it all through! And she’d finally paid the ultimate price for her recklessness.
She’d…killed him.
The one person she never thought could’ve existed, who had challenged her, accepted her, protected her, and of course, exceeded her expectations, though she’d teased otherwise.
But she’d lost him.
It was all the worse that he was an innocent soul. Yes, he had abducted her sister, but only in retaliation to being wronged first and trying to prevent mass chaos. She honestly couldn’t say that her kingdom would not have done something similar, had they been in his place. Damn the senselessness of it all!
When Dawn approached and gently touched her shoulder in comfort, she was quick to conceal the majority of her woe so she could embrace her, beyond grateful to the heavens that she was free from that cursed spell. And though she was happy for Dawn and Sunny as she watched them take hands, she loathed herself for feeling the slightest twinge of jealousy.
Their love was blossoming at last. Hers had ended before it could begin.
It just wasn’t fair.
Unable to bear it, she pulled away from her sister’s arms and gazed mournfully down into the pit one last time. For what reason, she did not know. Survival would’ve been impossible, and nothing but grey, lifeless fog stared back up at her. She took a deep breath, despite how much it greatly hurt her to do so, and swayed to turn…
…but she paused.
.
.
.
She could’ve sworn she’d heard something. Something unusual amidst the waking forest and the grief-stricken whimpers of the goblins in the mixed crowd behind her.
It sounded…like a distant cough from….
No.
It couldn’t be.
She was just hearing things.
…Yet she still had not moved an inch.
Daring to hope that fate would be kind to her just once more, she crept to the edge of the cliff and tilted her head to hear, silencing Dawn’s inquiry with a wave of her hand.
For several long, terrible moments, she heard nothing but her own breathing and the rapid drum of her pulse in her ears.
Sorrow tightened its fist in her stomach and she began to yield…
-but then it came.
Her heart shot straight up through her throat and into her very brain at the faint, but unmistakable voice calling for help from below.
Caught up in an immediate cyclone of emotions and energy she could neither name nor control, she acted upon pure instinct and threw herself from the ledge, shooting into the chasm like an arrow. Thankfully, some semblance of logic gripped her mind before she could blindly dive into the fog concealing what she knew to be at least massive chunks of jagged rubble. She spread her wings to catch herself and descended more slowly into the unknown.
Once past the fog, visibility improved, but only just. She was surrounded by immense clouds of dust and black, towering shapes of debris, stone, or root; she could not tell in the dim light.
Her panic rose when she realized she had not heard the voice again.
“BOG?! BOG, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”
She tried not to flinch at the sound of her harsh echo bouncing through the abyss, making it seem all the more empty. The following seconds were the longest of her lifetime, and she prayed she was not going mad.
Please, please, please! Oh, please!!!
“…Marianne?!”
!!!
“Marianne, i-is that you?!”
A joy she had not known since the day she first learned to fly erupted within her chest at the far off, but blessed answer.
“BOG! BOG, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Marianne screamed, spinning about, trying to pinpoint the origin.
“Here! Marianne, I’m here!”
Selecting a seemingly northward direction, Marianne carefully, but urgently, made her way through the murk and gloom. Lower and lower she flew, coughing on dust and occasionally calling out to make sure she maintained her path.
Bog’s voice grew louder and closer, and eventually, she saw what appeared to be the floor of the trench. She reached out with the toe of her boot to test its stability: it gave way beneath her foot like sand. It was not soil, but mounds of splintered wood. She was nearing the center of the wreckage.
Randomly, she was struck by the awful supposition that Bog might be mortally wounded; that she would find him only to lose him all over again. She shook the offensive fear away. No, she was being paranoid. He sounded too strong to be badly hurt.
Venturing further, she soon caught sight of something white in the distance. Picking up speed, it was revealed to be the skull that once marked the entrance to the castle, tilted on its left side, and half crushed under a mountain of dirt and broken bark.
Breath too stolen for speech, Marianne raced to alight upon the dead face, eyes raking over the horrible cracks and chips in the bone, when suddenly, a hand, scaled and clawed, shot out through a narrow gap in the clenched teeth with such abruptness, she gasped in surprise, but was almost instantly grabbing and tugging at it to wind the whole arm around her.
“Bog! Oh, Bog!”
Fresh sobs of pure, insurmountable elation sprang forth at the sound of Bog’s relieved laughter from within, and for what could’ve been a millennium, they awkwardly, but no less passionately held each other tight.
“Marianne,” Bog managed to say after some time, “I-I can’t get out. It’s too heavy, an’ I sprained my other arm. Can ye help me?”
Reality crashed over Marianne like a felled tree, and she blushed as she entangled herself from Bog’s grasp and wildly looked around for an avenue of escape from his prison. Briefly, she considered going back to the cliff to gather assistance from the crowd, but she was far too impatient for that, not to mention seriously reluctant to leave Bog’s side.
Think! There’s gotta be a way!
“Bog, your staff! Do you still have it?”
“…Yes, why?”
“I’ve got an idea! Stick the top of the staff though the hole; about halfway out!”
Bog did as he was instructed, and Marianne seized the iron weapon just below the decorative crown.
“Now what?” Bog asked.
“When I tell you, push the jaws open as hard as you can. I’m gonna try to use the staff as a kind of lever to help you. Got it?”
“Alright, I got it!”
“Ready?”
“…Yeah!”
“One…two…three! GO!”
It was difficult, knowing that their angle was off, and that her weight wouldn’t do her any favors, Marianne was forced to pull up on the staff instead of push down, using her wings to give her extra force. She could hear Bog grunting and straining inside the mouth, but the dull scraping sounds of bone sliding against bone egged her on. The shattered, wooden remains of Bog’s home trembled from the gradual movement and rolled off the obscured cranium, lightening their load by degrees. Marianne pulled harder as she saw the mossy teeth parting.
Yes, yes! Almost there!
What happened next, nearly scared her so bad, her hair turned white. There was a deafening snap, and she felt the rod jerk unnaturally towards her. She had not broken Bog’s royal staff, fortunately, only the top of the skull. The weapon carved a vicious path through the brittle bone like glass.
At the unsteady lurch, the dilapidated stump fragments cascaded down like a mudslide, but Bog was faster. Fighting against the current of rubbish, Bog wriggled himself through the impromptu opening Marianne had created, and was free.
For a beat, the two just gaped at each other, one in gratitude and tenderness, the other in awe and rapture that she was lost in those beautiful sky-blue eyes again.
“Thank ye, Marianne.”
“Bog!” Marianne breathed, dropping the staff and rushing to cup his thin, prickly cheeks, scanning him in vain for injuries. “Oh, thank goodness! Are you okay?!”
He nodded and smiled at her with his crooked fangs.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine; wings, shoulders, head…all good, Tough Gir-!”
Hearing his favorite nickname for her, Marianne tossed all sense of decorum and pride to the wind. She cut him off by throwing herself into his arms and kissing him as if there was no tomorrow.
But there would be, and as Bog shyly returned her kiss, she knew there would be many, and they would spend each and every one of them together.
#strange magic#sm3'17#sunday-canon divergence#butterfly bog#marianne#bog king#alternate ending#angst#fluff n' romance
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