#you can see just the edge of Ulfrics arm on the right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

big-bad-ulf · 4 years

Text

Untethered || Ulfric & Luce

Location: Dell’s Tavern

Timing: Before the last full moon

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf and @divineluce

Content: Family death mentions, thoughts/discussion of self-harming behaviors, alcohol abuse

Description: Ulfric and Luce lower their guard after a night of drinking and have a more successful heart-to-heart about their respective losses. If swearing loyalty to each other’s revenge plots can be considered a ‘success’

Grabbing the next round of beers from the bar, Luce walked back to the high top table she and Ulf were sitting at in the corner of Dell’s. The noise of the tavern was a comforting sound to her-- the roar of sports games playing on the screens in lieu of a band playing music. Balancing the two large steins of beer in her hands, Luce slid one across the table to Ulf and took her seat across from him. Lifting the large glass up in his direction, she gave him a slightly unsteady grin She’d matched him drink for drink which would have been fine… if he wasn’t a beast of a man. In a literal sense. Werewolf metabolism had to do something for processing alcohol. Whereas she was decidedly neither of those things. Taking a long drink from her glass, she nodded a bit more emphatically than she normally would, “When you’re right, you’re right. This German stuff is pretty fucking good.” Setting the glass back down, she idly pressed the back of her forearm against the glass, pressing one of her bruises to the cold surface.

Walking into Dell's this time had felt disconcerting, the place familiar yet slightly foreign after his prolonged absence. While both Bennets and Layla had resided under his roof Ulfric had always needed to be on watch, always needed a clear head. Now that threat was gone and there was no one waiting up for him, so he was free to unwind, the buzz of activity and alcohol keeping him from dwelling for too long on how that change in situation came to pass. "Those American light beers have no taste, they practically go down like water." Ulfric insisted as he took a long drink from the stein Luce place in front of him, repeating the argument he'd made several times throughout the night with increasing conviction as the beverages kicked in. "That's new, since I saw you last," He mentioned, casting a glance down at the bruised arm she pressed against the glass, the observation that he'd usually keep to himself finding its way out past his lowered inhibitions. "Did sword training get a little hands on?" He continued, providing a half-hearted out as an apology for stepping slightly over the line they'd drawn regarding talking about each other's personal bullshit. "I wouldn't have thought that would be allowed. Doesn't it defeat the purpose of, well, swords?"

“Yeah, yeah, American beer sucks, Budlight is basically pisswater, Coors may as well be La Croix of beer.” Luce said before drinking deeply from her mug, letting the cold carbonation rush down her throat. The bar around her was just a little fuzzy at the edges, which was just how she wanted it. Made things easier, to see it through a filter like this. And there was no better filter than a beer or four. Glancing down at her bruised forearm, as though she didn’t realize what he was talking about, Luce shrugged. Adam had fucked her up. Granted, she knew he’d been holding back-- Hunter strength and all that jazz. If he had wanted to, he could have broken her arm, broken her ribs without even trying. But, even with the pulled punches, she was still sore and bruised all over. Which was exactly what she wanted. “Nah, me and a dude beat the shit out of each other in the woods.” She said, the truth slipping out easily over the rim of her stein. “No swords involved, otherwise I probably would be really fucked up.” She said with a laugh. Training swords, even synthetic training blades, were still weapons. Still dangerous. Still very capable of knocking out teeth and breaking bone. It was a good fucking thing they’d stuck to hand to hand.

“Yes, it’s all fun and games until someone gets stabbed, I suppose.” Ulfric tried to match her laugh, to restore the bubble of alcohol-infused levity that had previously surrounded them, but it was a little strangled and forced. Somehow he seemed to have crossed the threshold between contentedly tipsy and sad, wallowing drunk, creeping over the line between the two without realizing it. Though in fairness to himself, with the way his vision was slightly blurring it would’ve been difficult to see it. “That sounds like the sort of thing I would do, the woods part, especially,” The werewolf conceded, he could hardly just her for brawling, but it just didn’t fit her style. With her powers, as he understood them, no one should’ve been able get near her, at least without risking a fiery retaliation. Which meant something was wrong, or she’d let herself get hurt, which was even more wrong. “I don’t get why you let this guy touch you without inflicting severe burn damage to his balls. It just doesn’t seem like you, Luce.” He found himself voicing his thoughts aloud, before sighing and running an agitated hand through his hair once he realized what he has said, how he’d skirted their rules again. “Faen, sorry… I know I promised, but it’s not funny for me to see or think about you being in pain.”

“I dunno, a good stabbing makes it all the more fun.” Luce said with a wry grin, not noticing the forced tone that her boss’ voice had taken on. With another large gulp of beer, she looked at her stein for a moment-- fuck, how was it already half empty? Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce focused on her boss as the world began to tip pleasantly from side to side. Or maybe her head was wobbling? Uncertain. “It was a good time.” She replied, though the smile that had remained on her face slipped slightly as Ulfric spoke again. A lump formed in the back of her throat at his words and she stared at the rim of her glass for a moment. The thought of her being in pain? It… fuck, it sounded melodramatic even in her head but… ever since Bea had died, her life had been nothing but fucking pain. The worst kind of pain. The pain of the soul, the pain of losing someone who she had spent much of her life relying on. It was the sort of pain that came with agonizing numbness that she would do anything to get rid of. Including fighting Adam in the woods. For a brief moment, Luce contemplated telling Ulfric to fuck off. To mind his own business, that she had this under control. But did she? Was any of this “under control?” Swallowing, Luce looked at him, “Sometimes hurting feels better than not feeling at all. It helps to feel a different kind of pain.” One I deserve.

Ulfric had fully expected a rebuff, so when Luce didn’t dodge the question he was thrown off-kilter. The sensation reminded him of when his parents had first been teaching him how to track and he’d misjudged his footing, expecting solid ground but suddenly finding himself falling. As it was then, this was unknown territory he found himself in, and he’d be wise to tread carefully. But both ‘wisdom’ and ‘caution’ were concepts that had become unappealing and difficult to comprehend several drinks ago. “If you truly felt nothing underneath all this, you wouldn’t have to work so hard to cover it up.” He countered bluntly instead. “And what is that work getting you? Bottle things up and the best-case scenario is they stay trapped that way, and things stay the way they are.” He took a long swig of his beer and contemplated the container it came in as he spoke, as if some deep truth lay within it. “More likely they spill out when you don’t want them to, or explode, and you’ve got a predisposition towards the more fiery outcome.” The image of the cup of coffee boiling over in her hand flashed through his mind, an inopportune and involuntary manifestation of the power she kept inside. He could relate to that, even if he didn’t understand the nuances of how her magic worked. “It… can help to let whatever you’re feeling flow through you on your own terms,” he found himself offering her the advice he’d often given less experienced werewolves intent on repressing their more primal impulses. “Though I’d expect yours would be different to mine.” She couldn’t rely on the moon to help her through releasing whatever negative energies were eating her up inside, but she could rely on his support, if she wanted it.

Taking another long drink from her glass, Luce mulled over his words. Part of her wanted to lash out at him-- what did he know about her pain? What did he know about how she felt? How could he even think to understand what she was going though? But, that was just the thing, she realized. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was that she’d been… fucked up. Had been acting out, hadn’t been showing up to work, or had been throwing herself into things harder than she should have. All he knew was that she was spiralling. Fuck. Letting out a sigh, she set the glass down, the alcohol and mixed emotions churning in her stomach. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to make her burdens his. She didn’t want to show this side of weakness to him. But, another side of Luce wanted to tell him everything. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this. How much longer could she hold onto the burden of her sister’s death, the responsibility of her resurrection, the fear and self-doubt that threatened to bring her to her knees. “I…” Luce took in a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, it might.” She said, digging her fingers into her arm, pressing hard into the floral designs etched into her skin. “Someone killed my sister. Bea.” Saying the words out loud, it felt just like it had the night she’d told Remmy what had happened. A tidal wave of emotion, guilt, sadness, anger, but most of all pain-- it all rushed over her. Luce gripped her fingers tighter, her shoulders tensing. “They were hunting Nell, but Bea… sacrificed herself. Saved her.” And she’d done nothing.

Luce’s confession brought Ulfric back to that night outside the trailer when Ari had returned to finally speak the words out loud and make them real; My sister is dead. His stomach plummeted, and he was briefly overcome by the impulse to find some kind of blanket to wrap her up in like he had the young wolf, despite how pointless that was when she could generate her own warmth. “What is it about sisters and self-sacrifice?” He found himself mumbling into his hands, leaning forward with his elbows braced against the table under the weight of the news. He hadn’t meant to say that, but a confession of his own in return for hers seemed fair. “Ariana’s sister is dead too, for similarly noble, bullshit reasons.” And his own sister was dead for completely arbitrary, bullshit reasons but that was beside the point. “Not that I’m trying to pit your grief against mine. Yours would kick mine’s sorry ass.” He explained. “I just want you to know I have some experience to back me up when I say that I’m sure… Bea was a good person, and the last she would want is to see any of her sisters hurt. Inflict that pain on the world if you need to. Throw something, light something on fire, tell me to get fucked in some creative way,” He suggested, searching for human substitutes for the innate mechanism of releasing pent up negativity that he’d been born with. Luckily, he was fairly certain he could smooth over anything she did short of burning the whole bar down with a sizable tip. “We can even go out back and I’ll let you get a few swings in. I doubt I’d feel it much right now, anyway. Just don’t direct this back on yourself, energy can’t escape a closed circuit like that.”

“Sisters. We’ll fight and bicker like hell, but someone comes for one of us… We’ll go to the ends of the earth to hunt them down.” Luce said quietly, her finger tracing one of the flower petals on her arm, staring at one of the snakes nestled among the flowers. Her mother. Her father. Neither of them knew. They were half a world away, none the wiser to what had happened to their favorite daughter. None the wiser to what their remaining daughters were sacrificing to bring her back. At Ulfric’s next words, Luce felt her stomach lurch. Ariana’s sister-- “Celeste?” She asked, aghast, staring at him. No. No, no, no. She hadn’t messaged the other woman, hadn’t heard from her in weeks. She thought maybe she’d read the signs wrong, that she’d just been a little too pushy, that Celeste was ghosting her. It had happened for. Plenty of women had done it to her. She had never thought that she was dead. “Fuck. Fuck.” Luce said her voice cracking as her jaw clenched. “I… I’m sorry.” She said thickly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep from crying. Waving a hand, Luce lifted her glass and drained the rest of the beer from the stein. “Don’t. Don’t say that. I’ve already tried that. Tried to kill some monsters. Killed a couple. Scared a few people. Burned down the woods. Didn’t matter. It all just felt… like shit. Nothing helped. Nothing’s helped.” Luce whispered, staring down at the tabletop, unable to meet his eyes.

Despite his dampened senses, it was obvious to Ulfric that Luce was close to tears, but he managed to keep from commenting on it despite his lowered impulse control. As close as they were, she’d never broken down in front of him, and he didn’t want to scare or shame her into restraining her emotions again by acknowledging it. “Alright, I get it, nothing’s helped.” He eventually accepted her response, rising from the booth to head toward the bar. When he sank back into his seat a few minutes later with freshly refilled steins he sighed and picked up where he left off. “Time’s supposed to, right? Let’s just pass the time then.” He nudged the glass towards her and raised his own in a tentative toast. “To sisters?”

When the man stood up to get more drinks, Luce buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly as she held back tears. Bea. Celeste. What the fuck. What the fuck. Why were the women around her dying? Who else would be next? And there was nothing that she could do for Celeste. Or for Ariana. Ariana-- fuck. She was just a kid. 18, but a kid. And she’d just lost her sister. Christ. Rubbing her face, Luce did her best to school her expression back to one of relative calm. The pain was still clear on her face, but the increased swaying of the room around them helped ease it away. “To sisters… avenging sisters.” She said, tapping her glass against his before drinking deeply, letting the alcohol wash over her. If she drank enough, maybe then she could just… forget this fresh, brutal news. “You… You said time’s supposed to help.” Luce said, echoing his words, her words running together as she stared at him with bleary eyes. “Did it? When you, when you lost your siblings. Did time help?”

“Did what?” Ulfric asked, her words becoming harder to decipher as they blurred together. “Oh, ...right.” He continued, recognition coming over him slowly. He was surprised she’d remembered. He only mentioned them in passing to explain why he didn’t get many visitors. ‘I’m the middle child of five, but my two older siblings are busy taking care of the family business back home, and the younger ones passed away a long time ago.’ An ocean of time, bigger than the ocean he’d crossed to get where he was now. Had it helped? “It helped somewhat,” He answered softly, after another steadying mouthful of ale. “Not as much as vengeance,” He added honestly, before reclining back into his chair to survey the bustling bar around them. “But I doubt you’ll find much of that at Dell’s. Time and company will have to do for now.”

“Somewhat.” Luce nodded, taking another large gulp of beer. The bar was spinning around her, her emotions hanging by a thread. But, she kept them at bay as best she could. She focused on Ulfric, focused on his words. On the fact that he knew her pain. He’d felt the fresh sting of losing siblings at one time, even if it had been years ago. But… Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce glanced around at Dell’s. No one was around, no one near at least. And it was loud enough that no one would be able to tell who’d said anything, even if they had werewolf ears like Ulf. “Not here in Dell’s. But, vengeance…” She let out a dry chuckle. “Sisters. You don’t fuck with them.” She said, her eyes dull as she leaned back into her chair. Her hand tapped against the top of their table, small sparks of blue flame drifting from her fingertips. “Sisters, they’ll chase you to hell and back again.”

At Luce’s glance around the room, Ulfric vaguely remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk of things like vengeance around mundane company. He generally tried to keep from alluding to things he’d done in the past at all, but he found at that moment the only person whose judgment he feared was hers, and that didn’t come. The acceptance he felt instead was like another layer of intoxication. None of the bar patrons seemed to be listening to them, likely because many of them had come to the bar with the goal of forgetting the things they’d seen and heard that they couldn’t or didn’t want to explain and weren’t looking to add to their burdens. Still, for her sake, he leaned in closer and kept his voice low as he nodded “Sisters can be formidable creatures.” The flames that sparked from her hand were uncomfortably warm in such close proximity to his, but he didn’t back away from them. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of one on the path to retribution.” He searched her eyes for some hint of what she was thinking, planning before deciding it didn’t matter. He already knew if she asked for his help with this he’d agree, details be damned. He wouldn’t be able to back down from the chance to help another sister, to do it better this time. “I’d stand by your side though,” The werewolf assured her, doing his best to keep her steady in his vision, to imprint the promise in his mind even after his sobriety returned. “If you needed me to.”

Locking eyes with Ulfric, Luce watched the way he leaned in. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be.” She said, smothering the flames with her palm, choking the blue flames out. She could feel the heat against her palm, but like all fire, it didn't burn. A part of her wondered what it would feel like, to burn like that. But, it never happened. The flames didn’t bite against her skin, they never went against her. At his words, she took another long sip of beer as she mulled over his offer. “Thanks, Ulf. But… I’ve got it covered.” She said, a smile curling on her lips, cold and cruel. “The motherfucker who did this, he’s going to wish he’d never even thought about coming after my family.” August. She’d held him in her hands, threatened to melt the skin from his face, had come so close to killing him… Next time, she wouldn’t hold back. Next time, he would know just how badly he’d fucked up by setting that hunter on her family. Luce let out a long sigh, she looked at him. “Same goes for you. With… Ariana’s situation. If you need help, if she needs help-- just say the word. I’ll do whatever I can to help. No one should lose a sister.” No one should feel the pain she did.

“I don’t doubt it, on both counts,” Ulfric told her, picking up on the determination in her tone, but not the iciness that might have given him pause if he had a clearer head. “You’ve got a deal.” He tapped his knuckles against her shoulder lightly in lieu of shaking her hand that had only recently stopped sparking, before tipping his glass to her and drinking deep to seal the new arrangement. Sinking bonelessly back into his seat he hummed, mulling over their conversation and the unexpected turns it had taken. “Hmm, all this talk of revenge makes me feel…” He searched his addled brain for a way to describe the sense of unfulfilled emptiness that had settled into his gut. “Hungry. Buffalo wings? Yes, buffalo wings.” He asked and answered his own question without pausing for breath, certain that was the solution. “I’m buying.”

#chatzy #luce #untethered #wickedswriting

14 notes · View notes

laylacooke · 4 years

Text

Teenagers Scare The Living Shit Out Of Me || Carrington & Layla

timing: wednesday afternoon (6/17) parties: @carringtonblackwood & @laylacooke summary: carrington’s had enough of layla’s shenanigans. warnings: mind control tw

It wasn’t that she was actively searching out the place, she had just stumbled upon it, but the way it towered over her begging to be vandalized screamed out to her. It’s why Layla had left and made sure to return late in the evening with a bag full of rotten fruits and vegetables that she found behind Veggie Tables and a few of the other restaurants she used to dumpster dive at. And now it was time to put her werewolf strength to good use. Letting off some steam via trash pelting was just what the doctor had ordered, and this random house in the woods was the perfect place to do it without the threat of Ariana, Ulfric, or Frankie finding her. Pulling back her arm, she aimed, fired, and released with a good targeted hit on one of the windows. And within a matter of minutes, she was pulling out another disgusting piece of produce and chucking it again.

Carrington had not had the best week. In fact, his week had been shit. Utterly and completely. And while he was recovering now that he had a steady supply of blood that didn’t make him high as a kite, and a proper place to rest, surrounded by his own kind - though that had its own ups and downs - he was still a good ways to go. The poison from the slayer’s blade had left him weaker than usual. Even with the substance gone from his system, the toll it had taken - along with his week-long ‘captivity’ - was obvious to anyone that knew him.

He had taken to spending more time outdoors in the evenings, for one. Bloodhaven was a large, spacious home, but even those walls felt like they were closing in on him more often than not. Which explained his presence on the balcony overlooking the front lawn when the sound of something hitting the windows drifted towards him.

Carrington paused, cigarette halfway to his lips, and tilted his head just a bit. The sound came again, thick and wet on impact. He sighed, wondering ‘What now?’ as he got up - clad in joggers and a plain, dark-blue t-shirt - and padded barefoot down the steps before moving silently into the yard. The figure wasn’t hard to spot, nor was it hard to discern what they were doing - the smell of rotten fruit was easy enough to identify - but the question was why were they chucking it at the house?

Carrington didn’t say anything right away, taking a moment to eye the small woman so aggressively slinging the stinking handfuls of trash at the windows. He recognized her smell when it finally drifted to him over the scent of the fetid cornucopia, she’d brought with her. A small moment of surprise passed over his face, but it was gone a moment later.

He exhaled smoke through his nose, in no mood whatsoever to play childish games with the young wolf. Whether he owed her a debt or not. “Something vexes?” he said without preamble, ashing his cigarette as he locked his eyes on Layla’s red hair. “Because I’m afraid you can’t do that, darling.”

Layla continued to throw the rotten fly infested food towards the windows and walls of the large abode. Giving it some color, other than just the stained wood that held the home together. With each throw, she became more and more fascinated with turning it into a game. What part could she hit this time? What kind of art could she make? Would anyone come out that would allow her a moving target with a little challenge? The ideas were endless. However, she had gotten so caught up, that by the time she had smelled death, she realized the vampire residing inside had already come out to greet her.

Stopping what she was doing, Layla glanced over in his direction. Carrington. He had been the last person, she expected to see, but so be it. It just happened to make things more interesting, “Well, well, you’re the last person I expected to see walk out from a random mansion in the woods.” Looking at the bag and then at him, she held it towards him, “Care to join me?” She had completely ignored his warning, and instead, waited for a reply to her answer, cockiness apparent in her attitude.

Carrington knew the act was technically harmless. A bit of rotten fruit wouldn’t hurt the house, other than needing to be washed off before it drew flies or other creatures. It was simply the principal of the matter. And he wasn’t in the mood for teenage disrespect.

He ashed his cigarette as Layla recognized him. They’d only met once, but the young woman standing in front of him was a far cry from the one he’d met that night in the parking lot. Though he was old enough to know that one meeting could hardly give one an accurate read on a person. This might be perfectly normal behavior. Though Carrington didn’t buy it. Something was going on. His eyes moved idly between her and the fruit-covered windows. “And you’re the last person I expected to see chucking garbage at that same random mansion.”

When the bag was offered, Carrington gazed at her, head tilted curiously. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Alright then. So much for the easy way. He reached for the bag, but instead of taking a handful of what was inside, he deftly removed it from Layla’s grasp. “No offense, darling, but no, I’d rather not. And if you’re smart - which I know you are - you’ll go home and sleep off whatever it is that’s gotten into you.” He gave her a very pointed look. “Before something far worse than me finds you out here in the dark. Behaving badly.”

Layla didn’t like it when Carrington took the bag from her. She also didn’t like being treated like a child. A low growl coming from her throat, she reached out and snatched the bag back. “What is it with you old people and not wanting to have a little fun? I’m sure you had your moments back when you were young. Now let me have mine, old man.” She pulled out another piece of rotten fruit, let her arm go back, and just before she released the rotting tomato, looked to Carrington with a grin just to spite him. “What are you gonna do now, huh? Bite me?”

This version of Layla had been far different from the girl he had met nearly two months ago, when she had first arrived at White Crest. And while something deep inside of her was telling her this was wrong, she still did it anyways and took great pleasure in her newfound freedom of just not caring.

Carrington didn’t react as Layla growled at him. He even let her take the bag back, looking at her with a flat, humorless expression. Perhaps it would’ve been easier not to treat her like a child if she hadn’t been acting like one. Her words had little effect on him, other than making him wonder just what was the matter with her tonight. “When I was your age, I was fighting a civil war for my king. There wasn’t much room for fun.”

Her taunts only made him sigh. It was clear she wasn’t going to stop just because he asked her to. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, he flicked the cherry to the dirt and doused it beneath his foot before tossing the rest away in an appropriate place. “I don’t bite children,” Carrington told her, his tone shifting to something with a bit more warning behind the words. “But if you insist on continuing to act like one, then I’ll have no choice but to make you do as I ask.” He didn’t use compulsion lightly, but in this instance, it was better than letting her continue this idiotic - and potentially dangerous - behavior.

“And I can assure you, neither of us will enjoy it.” It was her last warning.

Layla had ignored his comment about fighting a civil war. Something, she normally would have reacted to and been more sympathetic towards. However, it was his comment about not biting children that resulted in a loud laugh coming from her mouth, “Don’t bite children?” She waved her wrist in front of him; the one that had been bitten month’s prior in order to save a life. “You don’t recall the bite you gave me? That’s funny. You must me going senile, too, Old Man.” Turning her attention back to the house, she grabbed another piece of food and chucked it as hard as she could watching it splatter across one of the windows, “I enjoyed that.” She looked to him with a wide grin on her face.

Carrington remembered the incident vividly. The way her blood had tasted, the way her heart had raced like a wild thing trapped in her chest. But that wasn’t the same as biting someone out of the desire to feed, or out of anger. Or for any other reason besides needing to save a life. “Perhaps. Though that hardly counts as a bite, now does it?” He could bite her for real if he wished. It would be so easy. Almost effortless. She was young, foolish… headstrong. Caught up in whatever was happening inside her head.

He could drain her dry before she could even think to scream.

For a moment, Carrington felt his fangs prick the edges of his lips, but then he remembered himself, and they receded. But the problem of what to do now remained. Layla wasn’t going home on her own, that much was clear. And he had warned her, after all. The young wolf had made her choice. So, when she turned back towards him and met his gaze with her own, Carrington didn’t hesitate.

Compulsion came easily enough to the vampire, especially on a consciousness as chaotic and untethered as Layla’s currently was. He didn’t enjoy it. The idea of making someone do something against their will was utterly abhorrent. But it was the lesser of many evils. So, he locked eyes with the young wolf, unblinking as he took a slow step towards her. His voice was low and soothing as he spoke. “Look at me, Layla. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Stay right where you are until I say otherwise.” There was no question in Carrington’s words. They were orders. Firm and precise. When he was close enough, he cupped her chin in his hand, gentle but firm, and tipped her face towards him. Never losing her gaze, never blinking.

“You will leave your bag here, with me. You will go straight home, safely, and go to bed. You will wake in the morning like normal, but you will not recall this moment, or this place.” He paused a moment to let the compulsion sink in. Then he let her go and took a single step back. When Carrington spoke again, his voice was no less precise in its commands, but there was a weariness that hadn't been there a moment before.

“Go home, Layla. Now.”

Layla was raring and willing to go, however as she gazed into his eyes, something took over her. She felt like how she did the day she hypnotized herself. Everything Carrington was saying was making sense. It was all she wanted to do now. And his voice drew her in so easily that she didn’t dare blink or make any other movements. She had barely noticed when he cupped her face in his hands simply listening to all the man had to say. And before long, she felt at peace. The rage in her body silenced for the time being.

Blinking a few times, after he had finally released her, Layla, without resistance, sat the bag at his feet. She didn’t dare look back at the house, and she barely kept her focus on him, before he gave her the command. Turning around without so much as a goodbye, the young werewolf let her feet carry her back home. And just as he had instructed, Layla didn’t leave her place on the floor, until the very next morning. A day that would certainly make up for the eventless day she had before.

#para: teenagers scare the living shit out of me #carringtonblackwood #saga: the dark side #wickedswriting #mind control tw

12 notes · View notes

themidnightfarmer · 4 years

Text

A lake night chat || Skylar & Jared

Timing: This week?

Location: The lake.

Tagging: @theskyeandsea & @themidnightfarmer

Description: Skylar can’t scare Jared away, and Jared accidentally spooks Skylar instead.

Triggers: none i think?

Breaching the calm surface of the lake, Skylar let out a small puff of air through her nostrils, blinking the water from her eyes. She… didn’t like this. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be out here in the lake, but it was the only place she could think to go. She didn’t want Nic to see her in the pool, half panicked, and worrying if it would steal her voice. She didn’t dare go back to the river, in case the hunter who had shot her was back. And Ulfric had messaged her, warning her about the ocean. Even if she didn’t hate the ocean, she definitely couldn’t go there. Which meant she was here, in the lake. Which, until a month or so ago, had been the home of a giant squid monster. Letting out a huffing noise, Skylar slipped back under the water, her hind legs-- flippers-- propelled her through the lake. The water was refreshingly cold against her fur, especially compared to the warm summer air and the long sleeves she’d taken to wearing to hide the marks on her arms. As she swam, she felt reverberating ripples from along the shoreline pulse through the water, making the whiskers on her face tingle. Blinking, Skylar bobbed up at the surface, her dark eyes staring at the man by the water’s edge.

Blanche wasn’t at the farm at the moment, and Nell still didn’t have any memories of their unresolved fight. Given these facts Jared had made himself scarce that day. He was taking the time to just think about things as he walked through town. A slow pace, just taking in all there was to see and that he had missed worrying about everything else. Drawing up on the shore of the lake he rid himself of his shoes and walked along, just barely splashing in the water. His peaceful wandering came to a halt when he spotted a backpack however. He drew closer to it and crouched down. His head tilted to the side and blue eyes scanned the water for a swimmer or something of the sort. Maybe a kayak in the distance even. But there was nothing to be seen. The nymph took the backpack into his hands as he doubled his efforts to look for anyone who might have left if in the area. It was so close to the water he worried it had been there some time. But he was coming up empty. There was no one around. A worried grimace crossed his face as he looked for a name written on it anywhere.

Letting out a burble of confusion and concern, Skylar stared plaintively as the man began to rummage through her backpack. Oh no, no, no. She didn’t think he would know what to do with the small lock box that contained her hearing aids, but she also didn’t want him to just be going through her things. Her wallet was in there, her keys… She needed to make sure that he dropped them and left them alone. She let out a huff of concern before diving back underwater, making her way to the shoreline. Maybe… maybe she could scare him away? It was dark out and her teeth, they were scary right? She just needed him to go away so she could get out of her skin, grab her clothes, and leave. Clenching her jaw tightly, Skylar nodded to herself underwater. She came out of the water in a quick, powerful moment before letting out a loud barking noise as she surfaced and glared at the man.

Jared wasn't very far in investigating the backpack before he was heavily confused by it’s content. Was this the backpack of a runaway? The clothes on the very top spoke of the usual ‘spare change’ that someone might grab in a hurry. But they were folded and that’s where the mystery began. At least that’s where the mystery would have begun if he hadn’t been startled out of his thoughts. Clutching the backpack to his chest, he backed up a few paces from the water when a seal emerged. He held up one placating hand and just blinked at it. How on earth had a seal gotten to the lake? Surely no seal would have followed the watercourse this far away from the beach. Lowering his voice he spoke as he usually did with his more familiar animals. “Hey hey, woah. What’s going on. Did I bother you?” Jared did not expect a reply from the supposed animal so he carried on. “How’d you get here huh? Guess I don’t know that much about seals at all.”

When the man clung to her backpack, holding it tightly into his body, Skylar let out a dismayed snort. So much for scaring him away... she wasn't scary and seals most definitely weren't scary. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he was a hunter, if he would try to hurt her... but if that was the case, why hadn't he done that yet? Staring at him with wide eyes, she let out another barking noise and pointed with her nose at the backpack. She just needed him to leave her alone. Swimming up closer to the shoreline, Skylar let out a chattering noise of frustration as she tried to voice her worries at the man. Please leave, she tried to say, but all that came out was a high pitched whine. Letting out another huff of frustration, she looked at him with dark eyes, hoping that he would understand.

The seal seemed aggravated by his presence. All Jared could hope was that whoever had lost the backpack hadn’t gone and done something dumb and caused all the unrest. He raised a hand in surrender, taking a few steps backwards, hoping to de-escalate the situation for the both of them. The seal pointed at him with its nose and he got further confused. Was it actually indicating him or was it indicating the backpack? “The uh...backpack?” he asked gently, holding it out to the side so that the animal could indicate it again if that’s what it had meant. It felt like such a surreal moment to Jared. Was this a similar moment from those movies where a dog lead someone to an injured child? Was the seal saying it knew where the owner was? “Do you know who it belongs to?” Jared sighed then, slightly grumpily. “I wish I could connect to you easier so I could tell what you wanted.”

As the man took a few steps back, Skylar let out a barking sound of panic-- no! He couldn’t take her bag, it had her things, her wallet, her hearing aids, her keys. If she lost her backpack, if he took it and rummaged around inside, he’d know exactly who she was. And she’d be stuck out here without any of her belongings. Grimacing as she listened to him, she stared at him pointedly as he held out the backpack. It’s mine, please just leave it, please, Skylar pleaded. Again, nothing came out other than some huffing, half-hearted barks, and a long keening whine. But, when he said, “Connect with her” her eyes widened even more into a puzzled expression. What did he mean by that..?

“You DO know who it belongs to?” Jared was trying his very best to interpret what the seal was trying to convey. Communicating with creatures he had no ties to always aggravated him a little. Not that he ever stopped trying, it was just so much harder than he was used to. “But you’re not vicious enough are you? Not quite what was meant for me...but we can try it out?” Jared gave the area a cagey look. A few quick glances to make sure there weren’t any other people around at this time in the evening. Holding his glamour weakened his connection potential. The concentration on it limited him. So with no one around, Jared allowed a little of himself to slip through the cracks. His horns were the first -always the first- to arrive. Followed by his eyes changing from Blue to a vibrant purple. Once this was done he looked up at the seal hopefully. He hoped for even a smidgen of the connection he felt with others, wanting to know what it wanted. But nothing came and he let his glamour slide back into place. “Not vicious enough, I’m sorry. I have no idea what you want.”

Bobbing awkwardly in the lake in front of him, Skylar tried to nod at his question, but only succeeded in sending more ripples across the surface of the water. She did know who’s backpack it was, it was hers. And she really needed to learn how to hide it better. Mmmmmmmmm. At his words about her being vicious… She tilted her head in confusion. What did he mean by “try it out”? She quickly had her answer when she watched in terror as horns sprouted from his head and his eyes flashed violet-- letting out a startled bark of terror, Skylar’s sharp teeth flashed as she tried to yell at him, Please just leave! Leave me alone! She didn’t think it would work-- how could she possibly try to scare off a demon?

Jared felt instantly guilty. Nymphs were supposed to take on characteristics that matched what they protected. He raised his hands in surrender, the backpack still swinging from his fingers. “I’m sorry, so sorry. That must have been scary. I forget that I match up with something that might have tried to do normal animals harm.” He bowed his head respectfully and whispered a few more apologies before growing frustrated. He couldn’t make out what the seal was trying to tell him, but maybe he was reading too much into this. Perhaps the seal thought he’d just gotten too close and was trying to ward him off. “Sorry little one. Sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.” He took steps backwards, not wanting to upset the creature any further than he already had. Wondering what the heck he was going to do about the backpack.

Letting out another frustrated huff of concern, aggravation, and fear, Skylar stared at him as he continued to back away. She had to do something, she couldn’t just let him take off with her things. If that happened, who knows what he would do with her information. She had to get it back, had to make sure that he didn’t run off with her things… But. There was only one choice left. One last thing she could try. Maybe he wouldn’t listen to her, maybe he would try to attack her. But, she had to give it a shot. Swallowing, Skylar tried to focus on where the skin ended and she began, where her seal form gave way to human flesh. She tried to focus on the feeling of her human skin, the feeling of her cheekbones and her ears that stuck out from the side of her head. As she imagined this, she was able to do a shrugging motion with her shoulders, and felt the seal skin begin to slough off her head, falling back like a hood against her back. Her human face was now revealed, though the rest of her remained in the seal form. “Please don’t take my backpack.” She whispered, staring at the man intently.

He felt like he was on a trip of some kind as the head of the seal seemed to shift unnaturally. He stopped in his retreat to watch with concern as the head seemed to distort and fall away. The head of someone underneath had him lose his balance. He knew of selkies, he truly did. But he’d never seen one, and he most certainly had never expected the image he was looking at. “Your-” Jared cut himself off and instantly -without losing eye contact- put the backpack next to where he’d fallen on his backside in the sand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t. My brain- I didn't think - I didn’t know you weren’t a real seal.” He stumbled to apologize. I thought someone had left it here and gone swimmin- I mean I guess you did.” He trailed off in an awkward laugh. “Sorry there. I uh… fuck I really messed up there huh?” he cringed thinking about how he’d dropped his glamour. Stupid. Stupid move.

Skylar squinted, her ears straining to hear as she tried to read his lips-- being stuck between forms was… uncomfortable. She could feel her body trying to use whiskers that were no longer on her face to sense the vibrations that had been sent through the water when he’d fallen backwards. Instead, she had the familiar muted dullness of sound that she’d lived with her entire life again. Swallowing, she shook her head. “It’s mine. Please don’t take it.” She repeated, though the words came out with a burbling sound. Clearing her throat, she spoke up clearer, hoping she was enunciating well. It was hard trying to act human while the rest of her was very much still an animal. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” She asked.

Jared leaned forward when she started to speak to him. Trying to catch the words she said more clearly. “I won’t, I won’t take it. I didn’t mean to try and steal it. It just seemed like someone had lost it!” he responded with an apologetic tone. He felt stupid to not have considered that the seal might be a selkie. He knew there were some in town, he knew they existed. And yet he’d been dumb and not conncted any of the dots. The nymph shook his head instantly when she asked if he’d hurt her. “No no! I won’t touch you! I pro- I really won’t.” he tried to insist. He really needed to get a better handle on promises lately. His brain was so readily trying to bind him to anything.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar muttered to herself, “I should have hidden it better.” She said before blinking curiously at the way that he stumbled over his words. “You won’t hurt me?” She asked again, still a little wary. “Give me a second, okay? I don’t know if I can fully…” She did her best to gesture to herself with her chin. “I’ve never been stuck between like this before.” Skylar said before shrugging slightly, feeling her seal skin slide back on her face. In seal form once more, she dipped under the water. Her whiskers flicked out in the water as she swam up to the shoreline and flopped up onto the rocks. Her fur rubbed against the gravel as she focused on sliding up and out of her skin. Her limbs stretched, bones rearranged, her skin slipping free until it hung limp and lifeless around her shoulders. Though she was wearing a bathing suit, she kept her skin draped over her body like a towel. Shivering, more out of fear than from cold, she looked at the man. “What.. are you?” She asked cautiously.

Her face vanished and Jared wondered if he’d offended her so much that she was just going to leave him there and maybe swim to the other side of the lake to leave the water. If she even was going to at all. He wasn’t very well educated on selkies. But Instead he watched her travel out of the water and up onto the beach. He looked away when the whole of her body started to shift like her head had earlier. Looking back only when she spoke again. Standing up to respectfully offer her the backpack back. “Sorry about trying to take this.” he said again awkwardly before returning back to his spot a nice distance away and sitting back down. “I’m a nymph. You know, fae and all. I didn’t mean to, I know the horns are a little spooky.” He laughs lightly.

Accepting the backpack with a cautious hand, Skylar kept her eyes on him and watched as he retreated away from her. Even if he wasn’t leaving, at least he had given her some space. Pulling on her shorts, she kept the skin wrapped around her as she fished her hearing aids out from their case. Skylar slipped them on and felt a slight amount of ease wash over her as the sound returned to her. “A nymph?” She said, tilting her head as she stared at him and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Wait, you’re a fae? Not a de--” She cut herself off and swallowed. She didn’t really know how a Fae would feel about being compared to a demon. But, she’d had no idea that fae could even look like that.

He watched her curiously as she opened a little case from her bag and fiddled with them sliding onto her ears. His mouth formed a small o as he understood perhaps why they had been getting nowhere earlier. Maybe she hadn’t been able to hear him properly. But Jared didn’t comment. “Yeah, fae. Nymph of a natural aspect of the world. Just like google tells anyone who asks” he joked. “I am sorry for misinterpreting what you were trying to get across, and not realizing sooner what you were. I’m not very quick on the uptake a lot of the time, anyone could tell you.” he shrugs with a small laugh at himself. He was who he was, and he tended to find himself in these types of situations more often than the average person. Then again, he definitely wasn’t an average person, just like the girl he was sitting with who’d just shed her skin.

“A natural aspect of..? What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean by that. Do you… Do you talk to animals?” Skylar asked, not entirely certain what to make of his words. There wasn’t anything about what he was saying that made sense to her, but she was going to try and figure this out. As he continued to apologize, she couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Pulling the skin tighter around herself, she padded over and sat next to him on the ground. “It’s okay. I don’t really think I can communicate with people-- or nymphs-- when I’m like that. I um… don’t really know a lot about this sort of thing.” She said with a wince.

Jared didn’t want to spook her any more than he already had. He knew how ‘vicious creatures’ sounded to other people. And even if he didn’t feel it was a bad thing to be vicious it was likely this girl wouldn’t be so fond of the idea. “Nymphs deal in nature. From tiny things to vast multiple areas. I personally deal with vicious creatures...you know...those critters in town that most class as ‘dangerous’. I can’t directly talk to them I suppose, it’s more a...soul connection and an understanding? It’s easier to make that connection when I don’t have the human suit on.” he jokes prodding himself in the cheek and then brushing his hand over his hair where horns had been before. He glanced at her when she sat down next to him and rewarded her with a smile. “So a selkie right? Can I ha- No. May I know your name?”

“Vicious creatures…” Skylar repeated, trying to wrap her head around what he meant by that. Did he control them? Or was he like a representative of them..? Kind of like an Avatar of creatures? Swallowing, she curled her knees into her chest as she stared at him. He looked like a normal guy, like any other White Crest resident that she might pass by on the street. But, the horns that had sprouted from his head, the flash of purple in his eyes-- she knew that wasn’t the case at all. “Human suit? Are you… do you come out of your skin?” She asked, eyes widening slightly. She shouldn’t be that surprised, mostly because she had no room to talk. She’d just done the same thing. But, she hadn’t ever thought of things being the other way around. Of putting on a human suit and walking around in it like that, all while knowing you weren’t human at all. “Oh… My name is Skylar.” She said with a nod. “What’s yours?”

“Yeah. Some of the least loved, but someone has to look out for them right? They’re part of nature just as much as everyone else.” Jared confirmed with a small shrug and a smile. “I call them my kids. They’re not all bad, they just tend to have learned that they are better off being vicious. Don’t get me wrong. Neither side of that debate is right or wrong. Protecting yourself and your kin is the same struggle from both them and the humans perspective. I’m just trying to help find the balance I guess?” Maybe it was more explanation than she wanted, but he felt the need to explain, to make up for all the misinterpretation they’d struggled through moments before. Better to be clear from the start. “Not really, but sort of? Fae can do this thing called glamouring. It’s like a fake...illusion we can put on things. And I put it on myself to look human.” He explained further. “But it’s not like what you do with yours, which is awesome by the way I’ve always been intrigued by selkies. Never really met one before.” He smiled. “I’m Jared though, nice to meet you.”

Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, Skylar could admit that he had a point. There were things out there that she might not entirely understand but, they were a part of nature. Just the same as she was. That thought made her face fall and she cast a look at the water's edge, looking at the reflection that was cast back at her. The memory of the desperate, crumpled form that had stared back at her sent a shiver down her spine and Skylar turned her gaze back to the strange man. “An illusion-- so you can hide how you look with magic?” She asked confused. Could Winston do something like that? “Oh. Um… thanks.” Skylar said awkwardly. She hated the way she transformed. She hated everything about it. The strange sensation of new appendages, of flippers and fur and whiskers. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d never really met another selkie before either, not properly. “Mhm. Nice to meet you too.”

Skylar seemed lost in thought as he spoke and Jared didn’t want to overstep and ask her what she was thinking about that. He just let her look into the water, not prying like he wanted to. It wasn't his place, he was just a stranger after all. “Yeah sort of, not magic like uh...spellcaster magic. More like illusion, fae are known for tricks right? I suppose it’s like a trick of the light sort of thing maybe?” He wasn’t fully on top of how it was done himself, being raised human had really inhibited his understanding of his own kind. He was only just really coming around to all the terms and feelings he should have known since he arrived. Maybe he was talking absolute gibberish. “But how do you do what you do? Is it like a….sorta zipper situation or?” He was excited to know. He’d never had anyone to ask before.

“Oh, okay.” Skylar nodded, trying to act as though all of this made sense, even though all of this was sending her head spinning. A trick of the light, and Fae played tricks… She remembered how the strange girl she’d met by the lake had said as much-- Mina. What was it about the lake that attracted Fae, she wondered. At his questions, Skylar flinched slightly, curling in further into herself. The warmth of the pelt around her did nothing to comfort her. If anything, it made her lack of understanding all the more obvious. She didn’t know how it worked. “I don’t really know. It’s not a zipper, though.” She said, thinking about the long slit that ran down the center of her skin. “It’s… I don’t know. I’ve never really talked about this before.”

“What does it feel like?” he asked curiously, however the look on her face and the tone of her voice had him back tracking quickly. Jared felt guilty as he spoke again, he’d overstepped like he’d been trying not to, or at least that’s how he perceived it. “You don’t have to answer that. It’s probably really personal. I don’t mean to pry I just know I have a lot to learn you know? All this great stuff around town to find out, you don’t often get to ask these sorts of things.”

If she could, Skylar would have willed the earth to swallow her up right then and there. All of this man-- nymph? Fae? All of Jared’s questions were weighing heavily on her in a way that reminded her all the more that she had no idea what she was doing. She might know what she was in name, but as far as living… existing as this thing? No. She didn’t know anything about it. She didn’t understand anything about what she was. “I’m really not the best person to ask.” She said miserably before looking at him with a pained expression. “I don’t know anything about this. Or about what I do.”

The look on her face was almost too much. “Maybe we have too much in common,” Jared said gently. He wanted to reach out and pat her arm, offer some comfort. But they were still only strangers. “Were you… did you not know for a long time? Laughably long for how obviously you were different?” He both wanted to be right, for the camaraderie that came with having a similar story. But he also wanted to be incredibly wrong, to have the pain in her eyes from something different, something he didn’t know the crashing feeling of.

How did he know that? How could he know that? Skylar stared at the smooth rocks that glinted in the moonlight, her eyes as blue and as unreadable as the sea. “Mhm. Something… something like that.” She said before clearing her throat. “I-- thank you for not running off with my backpack. Or hurting me,” Or selling me to Satan, because I’m still not sure that you’re not a demon. “I just, I need to go home. I can’t-- I can’t be out here for too long. It’s not safe for me.” She said, her fingers trailing down to touch the scar on the back of her leg instinctively. “But I… If you want to talk, somewhere else, when we’re not alone in the woods,” Skylar dug around in her backpack, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen to scrawl her number and online information down. “Let me know.” She said with a nod.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I didn’t mean to try and steal your backpack, and I really would not hurt you.” Jared responded to each snippet of thanks he received. He felt guilty still that he’d worried her enough to show herself like she had. It didn’t seem fair. Jared watched her write down her details and took the paper with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Maybe next time we talk I won’t scare you into next week, or steal anything from you.” He added on as she stood up and he did the same. “I can tell you about how I didn’t know I was fae until I was told...despite growing horns.” And with that he raised a hand and bowed his head backing away from her to carry on his walk. He had a little more to think about it. He hadn’t considered there’d be more like him. He stood corrected.

#C: Skylar #P: Chatzy

8 notes · View notes

tasmyn-pearce · 4 years

Text

Smoke on the Water, Fire in the Sky || Tasmyn & Ulfric

TIMING: 5/24/2020 (Last Sunday) PARTIES: @big-bad-ulf SUMMARY: Two Non-Humans attempt to go moongazing and have a bonfire picnic at Hanging Rock. What could go wrong? (Smoke Monsters, smoke monsters could go wrong.)

Ulfric took in the scene he’d set up along the edge of Hanging Rock with satisfaction, although truthfully nature had done most of the work for him. The uninterrupted night sky sparkled brightly over the bonfire pit and picnic spread, and the sound of waves lapping against the cliffs below was only vaguely reminiscent of distant, muffled screaming and both things set the mood for… whatever this was supposed to be. People didn’t generally take him up on offers to go moongazing, at least not in human form, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed or how to classify the meeting. Regardless, it would be nice to spend some one on one time with an adult who wasn’t the spawn of his sworn enemies. He heard footsteps along the cliff path, and fiddled with the thick blanket he’d laid out to straighten it before turning to greet the approaching woman. “Tasmyn? It’s good to meet you properly,” He offered her his hand to shake with a smile. Her proximity didn’t trigger a reaction that signalled recognition of one of his kind, but after the incident with Morgan he was more careful about getting his hopes up in that regard, so the disappointment bore softer edges. “I thought we could enjoy a bonfire picnic along with the view.” Leaving her side for a moment, he retrieved a small tupperware container from a wicker picnic basket and presented it to her unceremoniously. “I managed to find some of those strawberries you asked about. Stubborn things grow in abundance around train tracks, human plans be damned.”

Tasmyn was looking forward to seeing the moon, and the stars of course! They deserved equal recognition, equal respect. After all, human scientists claim that the light we see is from stars that have already exploded. That was insane, and very metal. She followed the directions that the internet man gave her, she thought about looking up a map beforehand, but this wasn’t her first time in a forest, she was confident she’d be able to figure it out. After getting a bit turned around a few times, she finally made it to the clearing. “Yes, hi! Ulfric?” Usually she tried to take people’s names whenever she could, but he was being nice and offered to show her a good moon spot, so she was paying forward some kindness, even if he might be human. “Oh my! A Moonlit picnic? Bonfire? Do you know how to start a fire? Cause I don’t. And strawberries??” Tasmyn was pretty shocked at how lovely the set up was, so she decided without any real evidence that this man must not really be human. No human could do something this lovely. In fact, it might be the nicest thing anyone had done for her in years. “This is all truly wonderful. Thank you, genuinely.” She told him, looking up to make eye contact with him and grinning. “And you went on train tracks for the berries! How marvelous!” She grabbed the container and immediately took the lid off, picking up one of the berries and putting it in her mouth. “MMmmm, you want one?” She asked, picking one up and offering it to him.

“You make it sound a lot more daring than it was,” Ulfric chuckled, “I knew the next train wasn’t coming through for at least an hour, they have these handy things called timetables they’ll just give you at the station.” He left out the part where his presence on the tracks did still technically count as trespassing. “But yes, I’ll bite,” the werewolf accepted Tasmyn’s offering, warmed by her excitement. The small red berry was tarter and earthier than the kind you’d find in a grocery store, but all tastier for it. “The complicated part is the assembly,” he surveyed the conical, balanced structure of the bonfire with pride. Digging a pit beneath it, finding stones to place around it to prevent the fire spreading as well the materials to build the actual fire had been physically demanding, but it had made for quite a peaceful afternoon on the cliffside with only his thoughts and the waves. He was glad someone appreciated the effort. “Lighting it is quite easy,” he pulled a book of matches from his coat, motioning towards the gap between the logs which exposed the kindling, before holding them out to her. “If you’d like to do the honors?”

“People always take the fun out of things. I’m sure it was a fun adventure even if the danger level was low.” Tasmyn replied, wondering suddenly if this man was a warden who lured her to her doom. People did say she would learn to be more careful online. The thought passed almost as quickly as it formed, as her eyes widened slightly at his comment. “You built this?” She had foolishly presumed that the structure was already there made for anyone who happened to be out here, but no - Ulfric had taken his time and come out here to build this. A soft blush crept over her face as she grabbed the matches from him. “Yes, absolutely.” She held the matches in her hand and made her way over to the bonfire pit. “Right here?” She asked to verify, then pulled a match out and struck it against the matchbook. She admired the flame for a moment before carefully placing the flame against the kindling, letting it light then dropping the matchstick into the fire. Almost immediately she reached her hands out to feel the warmth of the new flames.

Ulfric nodded encouragingly as the flame sparked to life. “Yes, like that. You should make a wish too, it’s the right time for it.” His eyes drifted out over the ocean and up towards the glowing main attraction that had brought them both there. “Waxing crescent moon; the phase for planting your intentions and desires so that they’ll grow over the next cycle.” He sighed and lowered himself onto the picnic blanket, and then onto his back with his arms crossed behind his head. Strategically, he’d taken up the position to shield his eyes from the bonfire’s light, so they wouldn’t reflect it back at her (Tasmyn seemed unfazed by the sordid history of Hanging Rock, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react if her companion suddenly looked possessed), but he found he was also surprisingly relaxed. It had been awhile since he’d spent time with someone who didn’t depend on or at least expect something from him, and as sacred as his duties were, it was a relief to shrug off some of that weight for a moment. “Do you know any constellations? That bright star just to the west of the moon is Canis Minor, the lesser dog.” Ulfric traced a line from the centre of the moon to the star with one finger so that she could follow. “And then all the way on the horizon its companion the great dog, Canis Major is leading all the stars in setting for the night.” He left out the propaganda about the celestial beasts supposedly belonging to hunters, so as not to spoil the mood.

“I didn’t know the moon phases had certain things you’re supposed to do with them.” Tasmyn said with some excitement in her voice. That sounded so fun, such a wonderful way to honor the nature of it all. After taking another moment by the flames, she made her way over to the blanket that was laid out and took up the spot next to Ulfric just in time for him to start pointing out constellations. Maybe she was lying down a bit too close, but she wanted to be able to see what he was pointing at - and she never was very good at giving people personal space. “I know a few, ones that were over the town I grew up in. This is maybe a silly question - but would they be the same ones above us now?” Sometimes Tasmyn was embarrassed at her lack of booksmarts, chalked it up to years of Spriggan-only education. But she was comfortable around Ulfric, comfortable enough to ask a potentially stupid question. “Canis Minor.” She repeated, her eyes following his hand as he traced out the star formation. “Wow. That’s such a beautiful story. I didn’t know they all had stories with them. How’d you learn so much about all of this?” Tasmyn heard the fire crack slightly and the noise startled her, her body tensed up and she looked over towards the flames. But it was nothing, the fire was just growing and the sparks were crackling as they do. After watching smoke start to form at the tip of the flames, she turned her attention back to her picnic buddy. “What else do you know about the sky?”

Ulfric held back a laugh in case she took it as a slight against her lack of knowledge in the subject, rather than just being amused at her earnest enthusiasm. “It’s not silly, they’re mostly the same in the northern hemisphere, it’s just their positions and the times that they appear that change.” It was thought that had brought him a lot of comfort when he’d first been forced to leave his home, that he could still look up and find the same bright point in the sky as his family members who remained. “I grew up in a small village where there was much to do but listen to old stories.” He answered in fond remembrance. “Well that, and fight with my siblings but that doesn’t impress people as much.” He noticed Tasmyn tense listened in for any sound of an intruder making their way up to the clifftop, but heard nothing but the waves, though the flames did seem to be burning brighter. “Well, not much that can be backed up scientifically, but where I grew up they used to say the moon is chased across the sky every night by a wolf called Hati, and the sun is chased during the day by another wolf named Sköll. Some even say if they ever catch up they’ll swallow the heavenly bodies whole and cause the end of the world, but, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sure that part was just added for dramatic effect.”

Tasmyn looked up longingly at the stars as he spoke. She liked that the stars she was seeing were likely the same as her parents and loved ones. She liked less that her not-so-loved ones were under the same stars, but she pushed those thoughts for the time being. “I grew up in a very small village too! We were quite isolated, only some people went into the other towns and it always sounded like a dangerous trek.” Naturally she left out the part that her village was Spriggan-Only. But that wasn’t necessary information. She didn’t want him to think she was a freak. Ulfric had a nice way of speaking, as he explained the story of the sky to her she felt like she could really see it all written out there in the stars. Spriggans in her colony were known to be creative in their truths and half-truths, but making up stories was never their strong suit. “Nothing wrong with a bit of dramatic effect. It makes it that much more…” She paused briefly, searching for the right word. “That much more interesting, that much more comforting.” Just then Tasmyn heard the fire crack again. She wasn’t startled this time, but she did look over towards the flames. At first she thought the smoke was just growing very rapidly, but then she saw… were those arms? Arms of smoke reaching out towards her. Quickly she stood up, taking several steps backwards away from the fire, almost tripping over a few rocks as she moved. “What! Why! Oh my god are the witches mad at us? For disturbing them? It’s okay witches! We aren’t here to disturb you.” Trying to reason with a smoke monster wasn’t her finest moment.

Ulfric was surprised at Tasmyn’s description of how she grew up. Human communities who live that kind of self-sufficient lifestyle were increasingly rare, what were the chances that two people from such similar situations would end up in the same small Northwestern town? The spirits of his ancestors must have had some hand in guiding them together, though he wasn’t sure if his efforts to protect the wolves of White Crest so far had been enough to warrant such a reward. He was about to gently argue that comforting maybe wasn’t the right word for a tale of Ragnarök when she suddenly jumped up. “What? What’s wrong?” He leapt up as well into a defensive stance, but could neither see nor hear any trace of what had her so startled. “If I did something to offend you, you can just—” He coughed to clear his throat, tasting smoke. Odd, since the breeze wasn’t blowing in their direction. “You can just leave.” Maybe she had caught a glimpse of the firelight bouncing off his eyes after all, since she seemed so scared and hadn’t been able to think of a better excuse to get away from him than ‘witch ghosts’. “I won’t stop you, and nothing’s—” His speech was interrupted with more coughing. “Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

Tasmyn was beyond confused about what was going on, and felt awful that he thought he had done something to offend her. “You’ve been lovely… it’s that thing that’s ruining things!” She exclaimed, pointing towards the cloud of smoke that was heading towards them. Tasmyn didn’t understand why Ulfric didn’t seem to see the increasingly growing smoke monster that had begun to form. To her, having never seen a creature like this before, that could only mean one thing. This thing was sent to kill her and that’s why she was the only one who could see it. “No! No! Stay away from him!” She yelled at the creature, hesitantly moving closer to it to try and grab it off him or shoo it away. But as her hands tried to make contact with it, they went right through. The creature seemed to dissipate then reform where her hand had gone through. “It’s not hurting me, it’s hurting you! Can’t you see it?? Stop breathing in it’s smoke!” Tasmyn picked up a few small rocks from the ground and threw them through the monster, but every time something went through it, it always just re-formed.

Ulfric tensed and pivoted in the direction that Tasmyn pointed, poised to fend off an attack, but none came, at least not in the form he was expecting. The taste of smoke on the air was getting stronger, and he soon found himself subjected to another coughing fit, all the while groping blindly around him whatever thing or creature had set her off, but his fingers slipped uselessly through the air. In all the coughing and flailing he lost his balance and failed to dodge one of the rocks she hurled at the invisible menace, which smacked him firmly in the temple. “Ow, hey! I don’t see anything, and I don’t think that’s helping!” He called out, rubbing the bruised area, though it came out considerably raspier, and less calm than he’d intended. The mention of smoke stood out to him though, as despite the relatively clean appearance the air around him appeared to all his other senses to be thick with it, a vile ashen sensation coating his mouth and nostrils and stinging his eyes. “Water cooler—With the basket,” he managed to splutter, “We’ll put it out.” If there was something wrong with the smoke their best bet would be to stop it at its source.

Admittedly the idea to throw rocks at a smoke monster wasn’t Tasmyn’s finest moment. But it had been all that she could think of at the moment. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, immediately stopping what she was doing. Her breath became so heavy, she evidently had gotten too close to the smoke and breathed some in. She coughed heavily, then nodded at his suggestion. “Okay! Okay!” Tasmyn ran over to where the basket was and found the water cooler. Quickly she unscrewed the top of the cooler and made her way over to the fire, dumping the contents of the container onto the flames then stomped out the remaining hot coals. As soon as she felt confident the flames were out she turned back to see if the monster had in fact disappeared with the elimination of the fire. A sigh of relief passed through her lips as she saw that nothing was attacking Ulfric anymore. “I am so sorry,” she told him, small tears beginning to form in her eyes. “I don’t know what that thing was, but it had to have been here to get me. My god he must’ve found me…” She trailed off, looking around them to see if anything was out there in the woods near them. “This is all my fault.”

Much to Ulfric’s gratitude once the flames were thoroughly quenched the choking sensation dissipated, though he was left hunched over, humbled, and hacking his lungs out by the time it did. Not a position he was used to being in, but one he took advantage of to heap handfuls of soil onto the remains of the bonfire, to make sure any surviving embers were smothered. “I think it’s mine actually,” he managed to retort once his airways had become less obstructed. “This spot is reported to be cursed, but in my defence, I doubt there are many places in the world where something tragic or bloody hasn’t occurred at some point in history.” He covered his mouth and cleared his throat, and when he pulled it away in the moonlight he thought he could make out a dark smudge of ash. Even if he never saw what caused it, he couldn’t deny he’d felt something real. “What did you see anyway? Why would someone be after you?” He asked, finally registering what Tasmyn had said, eyes darting in every direction in anticipation of another threat.

Even though the monster had dissipated with the flames, Tasmyn still felt on edge. Could he be right? Was this just the work of the witchy spirits that had been brutally killed on this very cliff? She thought she had been careful in her last move. Stole a random name, took the passport, made her way to America as someone other than Tasmyn. Maybe witch ghosts was the reason they were attacked… but that didn’t explain why she was the only one who could see it. “No, no, the witches wouldn’t make only one of us see it.” She mumbled, without fully realizing she had said it outloud. “I-I should go… If he’s here, I can’t let him…” Tasmyn turned to run away from where they were, then she stopped herself briefly. She looked back and then picked up the container of strawberries that Ulfric had picked. Even though she had little proof, she was convinced that her husband was behind this attack. She turned again, this time actually running away. “I’m so sorry!” She shouted as she left. She had an awful pit in her stomach, feeling awful for getting him attacked and then running away, but it felt like the safest option? He had been so nice to her, she didn’t want to be the reason he got hurt.

#smoke on the water #ulfric #chatzy #chatzy:ulfric

11 notes · View notes

sgtrolandhills · 4 years

Text

The Chief and The Tracker || Roland & Simon

TIMING: Night of Lucas’ arrest. PARTIES: @inconvenientsimonstrocity & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: Simon explains to Roland that he’s worked in Forensics most of his adult life and comes along with Roland to investigate the scene. Evidence points to Lucas being innocent.

It was an uncomfortable drive to the Dairy Queen where the previous night’s events had transpired. Simon had basically bullied his way into Roland’s office to personally ask to go with him to the crime scene. He had been putting pieces together since the night before; he wasn’t sure then who howled but it wasn’t Ariana, Ulfric or Lucas’ brother. By the time he’d stepped foot in the precinct, the smell of blood was strong and with the full moon being in two days, Simon could somehow tell that it belonged to Lucas. Something had happened and the more he tried to think about it, the more… he didn’t know so he was silent unless addressed, keeping his blue-eyed gaze out of the moving car window. “Thanks for letting me accompany you,” He finally did say, turning his head slowly to regard Roland.

When Roland had been preparing to go back out to the scene and re-examine the area, he hadn’t been expecting the janitor from the morgue trying to tag along. Apparently he’d worked in forensics before moving to White Crest. If he proved to be a help on the field, maybe Roland could help him get back into it. He liked to keep station staff motivated. Made things run more smoothly. The crime scene was much easier to observe now that all the smoke had cleared away. As he pulled out evidence bags and gloves, he handed a couple to Simon. “Of course. I could use a fresh set of eyes. I presume you remember how to bag and tag evidence.” “I have a couple years of experience on that, as I mentioned, so we should be good,” Simon replied as he took the gloves, going back to looking out the window. This was, he remembered, why he became a forensic scientist in the first place instead of a professional pianist; people didn’t like him or want his help, not to his face. They’d rather have copied his homework, dump their problems on him because he listened. The people that seemed to mind him the least were, well, the dead, if only because they couldn’t create excuses to not be around him anymore. It was a double-edged sword but at least he could help now. Lucas, as with everyone else, held him at arm’s length because of some martyred notion that his problems were his to shoulder alone or his and his brother’s or whatever. He wouldn’t understand, how could he? He was used to it but the crime scene they drove up to had to have some hard, actual answers for Simon. What did Lucas do? He got out of the car where he was greeted with a combination of scents, notably blood, wolf and dust though it had since settled. “All right.” He glanced over to Roland, waiting for him to make the ‘first move’, as it were.

“Just have to make sure it’s still fresh in your mind. This isn’t standard procedure, but if it’s something you have experience in and take an interest in, I’d like to see you work and see what I can do to help you get back into that department if it’s something you’re pursuing,” Roland said plainly as he stepped over the crime scene tape that surrounded the building. They’d gotten some statements from witnesses, but everything was so disjointed. All he knew was that it was chaotic and the statements didn’t quite come together as easily as he’d like. His own gloved hand worked at picking up crossbow bolts off the floor. A quick scan of the room didn’t initially show the weapon itself. If the man they arrested was in fact guilty, the bow had to be around here somewhere. He wasn’t sold that Lucas was guilty of shooting up the ice cream shop, but he’d been ready to attack himself and Marley, so they had to arrest him. “We still have security footage to check out, but if the suspect on the scene was guilty, there’d be a crossbow around here somewhere. Anything particularly of note that you would look for on a scene like this?” As Simon also stepped over the tape, he glanced over at where a dented-up truck sat. Possibly related? Too soon to tell. The scent of blood was stronger inside, obviously. He spent a good, long time just listening to Roland, listening to everyone and everything else, closing his eyes and absorbing every sound and smell he could. He noticed the spatters of blood, the discarded bolts - he would need to examine those in a minute. Something was occurring to him though, even as he examined everything. He looked from one blood smear to the other, then another. He pulled up from his crouch. “I’m sure we’re getting a blood sample tested right now,” He motioned to all the places where the sticky crimson could be found. “But--” He paused for a second, allowing himself to realise what was going through his subconscious. “This blood all belongs to the same person.” He decided to conclude, opting not to say that it was all Lucas’ blood. Either his sense of smell was failing him - and it somehow hadn’t before - or he was right and all these samples would come up Lucas. So there was an explosion, a shooting involving… crossbows. Why not normal guns? He also glanced around for the weapon. “You said there’s security footage?” He asked, looking back over at Roland.

The pieces at the scene weren’t adding up into anything that made sense just yet and Roland took it as a challenge to crack this case. While the man they arrested last night may have been prepared to attack him and Stryder, he knew there was more to this case. Washington’s injuries were more indicative of being attacked, but he’d still needed to come in for exhibiting violent behavior to an officer. It couldn’t be allowed for him to be a danger to himself and he had needed the medical attention. “Yeah, we got some samples from all the different blood splatters last night. Test results haven’t been yielded just yet.” The next part of Simon’s statement threw him for a loop. Roland never claimed to be any sort of scientist, but how could he possibly know just from looking at it that it was all the blood of one person. “How could you possibly know that without the lab results,” Roland asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes, there’s security footage that’d I’d like to review myself. Some other officers already looked at it and there’s nothing conclusive. Camera is pointed more toward the register and the place filled up with smoke very quickly. Let’s go round back and give it a look over for ourselves.” Hmm, maybe Simon shouldn’t have said that. “It’s… just a hunch.” He said, going over to the sergeant and glancing at one of the crossbow bolts curiously. Pointed towards the register, the room fills with smoke… He turned and went to the glass that had shattered in the front, noticing something else in the air as he drew closer to the door. It wasn’t blood and it wasn’t wolf, it was… he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Okay,” He replied, regarding Roland. It would be a start, at least. “Before we do, what do YOU think about all this?” He asked, looking the officer almost in the eye but not quite managing to make it. He could tell by the smell in the air that Lucas had obviously shifted at least partially, in self-defence of something but what against? He thought about the crossbow bolts again and made a note to investigate the truck after they reviewed the tape.

“Interesting hunch, but forensics is testing the blood samples,” Roland responded, still giving the room a precautionary look before making it back towards the security camera. This whole scene didn’t quite add up. There was something that just wasn’t quite right about it. With enough diligence, answers would be found. It was hard to piece together everything without a statement from Lucas, but he could get a start. It was vital to get as much evidence within the shortest time frame possible. He turned to Simon as he crouched down to get a better view of the monitor, “I don’t think this is clean cut by any means. The man arrested was aggressive when we got to the scene, but the lack of weapon on the scene doesn’t add up for him being the one to have shot the place up. There would have been no place for him to stash it. Maybe forensics will prove your blood theory correct.” He pressed play on the security footage from around the timeframe. It really only had a good view of the register, but he could see that the man arrested had bought a milkshake which didn’t line up with the trajectory of where the weapons were fired from. He rewinded and took a closer look, that was definitely his guy, but he looked much more well-groomed than he had when Roland brought him in. “I’m thinking our guy is still out there,” he answered, eyes weary as he watched the rest of the footage played on. At a certain point, smoke overpowered the lens. “I’m inclined to agree,” Simon replied, keeping his sharp eyes on the monitor. There was Lucas, at the register ordering a milkshake, in public. It looked so natural and Simon would’ve smiled at seeing the younger man like that had it been under different circumstances. He noted the guy that ordered right after him, and… Was Lucas waiting for him? Did they know each other? “Can we check receipts for this guy’s name?” He asked, pointing to the second man. Normally, there wouldn’t have been any way to tell if the man had stayed or left but judging by Lucas’ lingering behaviour, it seemed to him like they were at least making small talk. They left the view of the camera and it was dead for a little while until there were shadows moving quickly, then smoke. He pulled away from the screen. “Our guy has to be out there,” Simon affirmed, turning and looking for where they had marked where the bolts were found. “At least one of those came in through the window,” He said, pointing to the bolt marker and then to the shards of glass that were inside. He walked briskly to the outside of the building. “Something or someone came back through. Probably someone,” He added, noting the lack of furniture around outside. He turned on a heel to look at the truck, quickly but still carefully approaching it and catching that scent again - it wasn’t Lucas. It… wasn’t just one person. Acting on instinct, he closed his eyes and slowly paced around the truck until he was led to the bed where he found one of the crossbows. “Ah, here we go.” He said to himself, reaching over the door and placing a marker on it carefully. “Call it another hunch but there’s more than one crossbow around here,” He decided to just… put it out there for the Sergeant; he could smell at least two different people that weren’t Lucas and he could feel his brain heating up. “Crossbows take a while to reload, as I’m sure you’re aware. And if someone were, say, being attacked while using one, there’s no way they would’ve had time to fire that many in such a short span of time.”

It was clear to Roland that Simon had definitely been comfortable in forensics and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he applied for the janitor’s position. Once they were back at the station, he was going to make sure he worked on his resume so he could put in a Rec with Jones in Forensics. For now, he pressed the rewind button to get a good look at the man behind Lucas in line. His eyes were squinted as he lowered his face closer to the screen. This man hadn’t been on the scene and Roland had looked over the statements from witnesses religiously since they hit his desk. “I’ll have to give the manager a call.” He stood up straight again and hoped that the man hadn’t used cash to pay for his milkshake. Any further insight on the scene would be welcomed.

Seeing Simon begin to take control and command the crime scene was what he’d hoped to see. This wasn’t commonplace, but his experience was invaluable. He scanned over the window, that had been his initial take away as well. Even though he wasn’t experienced with crossbows, he knew Simon was right. They couldn’t be rapidly fired quite like a gun could, so there had to be more than one person acting to cause the level of damage in such a short timeframe. “Good eye,” Roland agreed, following him as he made his way outside. He took down the temporary plate number that was on the back of the truck to see if it could be traced. Looking into the back windows of the car, he made himself slightly taller and was able to see two more crossbows in the backseat. With a jiggle of the handle, the door came open, “We’ll need two more markers back here, Looks like there’s one in front, too. No wonder they were able to cause so much damage. It appears we have quite a few perpetrators on the loose.” Well, Simon was glad that his nose hadn’t failed him that time. He went around the truck to the door that the sergeant opened and placed the markers down. “We’ll check for prints but the only one that the suspect could’ve touched is the one in the bed.” He caught two new scents this time, faint but present inside the truck. At least four crossbows and as far as he could tell, three different scents - unless it was one guy who was crazy prepared with a bunch of loaded crossbows, it had to have been at least four people. Lucas was injured enough for there to be blood but none of the bolts did any lasting damage so whoever they were, they weren’t very good at their jobs. “He did rough one of them up,” He mentioned as he took a step back from the truck, glancing down and noticing maybe one or two drops of blood - he probably wouldn’t have spotted them had his nose not picked it up. Definitely human this time. “So one of them is injured,” He crouched and sniffed the air again. Urine. Damn, it was there for too long so it wasn’t useful except for affirming his idea that these guys didn’t know quite what they were up against. Simon straightened back up and took one last, long look around for any other shreds of evidence that would be decisive; the glass, the bolts, the car, the weapons, the blood… no visible tracks that led from the truck, “I’d say we have some good, solid evidence to prove the suspect’s innocence,” He stated with a small nod once he hadn’t found any. “I don’t doubt that one or a couple of these guys took some damage--” He motioned to the dent in the side of the truck. “But all the weapons are outside, they never went inside and I’d say the suspect acted in self-defence. No one inside was hurt,” He recalled the briefing. “I think once you get a statement from the suspect, run some tests on the weapons, bolts and bloodwork and see if you can find that guy on the camera, you’ll have a more appropriate sequence of events.” He explained, feeling that he was probably being unnecessarily obvious but if there was one thing he’d learned in the field, it was that clear communication, even if obvious, was vital. “What do you think, Sergeant Hills?” He asked, tone rather gentle.

All the clues pointed to the man they arrested not being the one who initiated the attack. Roland didn’t like as much, but he needed to be brought in with the state he had been in. He was getting the medical care he needed now. It was still apparent he may have been a danger to himself last night. Still, all this work to seemingly only attack one person, it was alarming. When he’d seen stuff like this back in Boston, there had usually been drugs involved. By all records, no one else one the scene had even been injured. He didn’t like the direction this case was taking, but it needed to be solved either way. “Yeah, I’ll get ‘em in bags so we can take ‘em back to the guys in Forensics.” He hoped they hadn’t been wearing gloves. That’d ruin any chance of getting prints, but they wouldn’t know until they gave them a thorough look over. He had no idea how Simon spotted the two smallest blood drops, but damn that was impressive, “Let’s collect that sample as well. May get us closer to our perp.”

“I think you’re spot on, Simon. There’s more going on with this case and I need Washington’s statement to help fill in these blanks,” he said, beginning to pack up some of the evidence bags, “We need to get this stuff back to the station so they can start running forensics tests, stat. I’ll be meeting with Washington as soon as he’s cleared for visitors.” Simon gave a small nod as he put another marker over the two drops he found. “Good,” Was all he replied with at first. He straightened up and glanced at the scene, wondering if he should stay behind and help gather everything up or if he had wasted enough of everyone’s time there. He felt his heart slowing slightly as some of the adrenaline wore off and he went over to Roland, bowing his head submissively. “You seem like a good guy, Sgt. Hills,” He said gently, quietly. “I know what you saw last night was… hard to explain and I know why you arrested him.” He added; for all their faults and flaws, the police force DID have some logic sometimes and he hated seeing any group that had good members, police included, be categorised and judged harshly because of the worse members. “I thank you for giving me this opportunity to work with you.” He gave a soft smile, his tone genuine. “I’ll get outta you guys’ hair and get back to my floors now but I just… I dunno, I hate to see the innocent get punished.” It sounded lame but it was true, he could feel it. Finally, finally, he hoped he was able to help in some way, shape or form. Give back to the group that had already been so kind to him first.

Part of Roland had to wonder if he had some personal stake in this case, but his work ethic spoke well enough of him. He’d definitely be requesting his resume once he was back at the office so he could forward it over to the Head of Forensics with his recommendation. With all the strange cases that came across his desk, he had no doubt they had openings in that department. “Thanks, Simon, you seem like a good guy, too. I’d love to see you get back into the field. I expect your resume in my inbox by Wednesday,” he answered. Between the two of them, they got all the evidence from the scene. Hopefully the weapons could give them some answers on who the hell shot the place up. “Yeah,” he responded, “Let’s head back to the station. I want to get everything into the lab as quickly as possible. Thanks for your help with this, Simon.” The pair made their way back to his cruiser, newly collected evidence bagged and in tow. They had to work quickly to make sure they found the right guys.

#wickedswriting #the chief and the tracker #simon

13 notes · View notes

divineluce · 4 years

Text

Beers Over Fears || Celeste & Luce

Location: The woods outside of White Crest

Timing: May 18th, 2020

Tagging: @celestelavie

Description: Celeste and Luce meet up for beers and a break from their responsibilities.

It’d been entirely too long since Celeste had been on a date and she was absolutely kicking herself in this very moment for leaving her best blouse behind when they ransacked the house. The shade of red would have been perfect for a hot date and Luce was undeniably a very hot date. She supposed she’d end up putting her leather jacket over whatever blouse she’d chosen anyway so she opted for a pale blue that accented her eyes nicely. Not that one would be able to tell as much under a night sky, but it did add a little confidence boost which never hurt. As she approached where she was meeting Luce, she felt herself begin to relax a bit. A night completely devoid of werewolf and hunter talk would be a welcome change. The sky was perfectly clear, too, which set a nice mood. She waved and smiled as she saw Luce approach. “Hey,” she greeted, looking the other woman over, “You look great… which I’m sure you knew already, but still.” Smooth.

Parking her car in the lot not far from where they planned on meeting up, Luce grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and hopped out. She slung her bag over her shoulder, the bottles of beer rattling against the small picnic blanket she’d shoved along with it. Walking out into the woods, Luce grinned as she saw Celeste. Her Al’s uniform had done her absolutely 0 favors, but this look? Luce could get behind it. Or rather, she smiled inwardly, under it. “What can I say, I’m a snack.” She joked, doing a spin with no small amount of bravado. Dark tank top to show off her arms, tight jeans to highlight her legs, and a red and black flannel tied around her waist to emphasize her curves? She knew she looked damn good and wasn’t afraid to show it. “You look gorgeous. Your top goes really well with your eyes.” She said, gaze lingering on the curves of the woman’s body for a moment before smiling. “Now, how about those beers?” She said, holding up her backpack.

There was something appealing about the way Luce carried herself. She certainly didn’t lack for confidence though it was entirely warranted. She was beautiful and talented, it’d be crazy for her to be anything but confident in herself. Celeste still found it to be a refreshing trait. “Indeed you are,” she said with a smirk, looking her over as she twirled. Her eyes lingered on her hips momentarily before meeting her eyes again. “Thanks. Couldn't let you be the only one here looking like a snack tonight," she laughed lightly, her cheeks slightly flushed from the compliment. With a nod, she answered, "A beer sounds perfect right about now, lead the way." She followed closely by Luce though, keeping an ear out for anything shifty. As much as she loved the woods, she had little trust in White Crest not trying to throw a creature shaped wrench in her evening plans. As they settled into a spot with the picnic blanket, she asked, “This is a beautiful spot, nice clear sky tonight, too. Do you come out here a lot?"

“You know it, babe.” Luce said with a wink and a smile at the other woman. Watching the way Celeste’s cheeks darkened, she let out a laugh. Not at her actions, just the words. “Well, you certainly delivered on that.” She said, giving an approving nod at the woman. As they walked through the woods, Luce led the way up the slight hill, where the forest receded and gave way to a nice view of White Crest. Spreading out the picnic blanket, Luce set the beer down on the edge of the blanket and cracked open one of the bottles. “Here you go.” She said, holding it out before opening one for herself. “It’s a great hidden gem, for sure. One of the perks of living here my whole life, I know all the best spots.” She said, taking a sip. “Not too often, I reserve spots like this for when I’ve got company.”

“Cheers to that,” Celeste said as she clinked her beer bottle to Luce’s. There was a smirk on her face before she took a sip of her beer. This really was the perfect setting to relax and actually enjoy Luce’s company in. She looked Luce over momentarily, clearly pleased with the sight in front of her. She was lively, that was for sure, and the way the moonlight hit her hair looked like something out of a painting. “Well, I’m glad I got to accompany you then. I’m getting all the best views in town.” She was feeling a bit more relaxed and scooted a bit closer to Luce on the blanket, taking a moment to look out at the town. As dead set as Ariana was on calling this place, she had to imagine growing up here to be pretty wild. It seemed doubtful that Luce could live her whole life, work with Ulfric, and be completely clueless to the town’s true nature. “So growing up in White Crest,” she mused, “What was that like? Were there always so many mimes?”

“Indeed you are,” Luce agreed, very much a fan of their little back and forth. Not that her ego particularly needed it, but it was still gratifying all the same. “Then again, I could say the same. I’ve got a pretty great view myself.” She said, leaning back on her elbows to take in the night sky and the lights of the town along with how Celeste was silhouetted in the foreground. It’d make a great painting, if she had her supplies with her. Taking a long sip from her beer, Luce thought about the question. What was it like, growing up in White Crest? How could she frame it in a way that didn’t reveal much about the fact she grew up in a family of magic, knowing that the world was never “normal?” She tapped her fingers on the bottle as she mulled it over before replying, “Your typical small town experience-- everyone knows everyone, high school drama boiling down to the cheerleaders and the football team with no one giving a fuck about anything else.” At the comment about mimes, Luce made a face, “Don’t even get me started on those stripey fucks. I hate those guys.”

This was decidedly one of the best nights Celeste had in awhile. Their easy conversation and the view of the sky over the town made it easy to forget the sense of impending doom that always seemed to try and fight its way to the surface these days. She looked to Luce and smiled, “Seems like a win-win.” Celeste watched her as she explained life growing up in White Crest. It all seemed so fairly simple for crazy the town had been since she’d arrived. Either she was none the wiser or was smart enough to not talk about vampires and werewolves on a first date. It was hard to say which was better, but it mattered little anyway. Right now, they could enjoy themselves without worrying about all of that. It almost reminded her of her own hometown, not that she’d been back in the last 15 years. She took a quick swig from the bottle and mused, “I grew up in a small town, too, it has its charms. I miss it sometimes.” Not that she could visit, but it was nice in theory. She laughed at her reaction to the mimes, giving her a nudge, “What? The stripes don’t do it for you?” Her voice took a more serious tone, “Probably for the better. I’m not a big fan either. I had to fight a mime that looked just like me a few weeks back. Bitch stabbed me. Definitely not a fan.”

Luce kept her eyes trained on Celeste’s face and, while her gaze occasionally dipped to her lips and lower, she did keep her focus on the words. She was a good listener, she had to be-- it was part of her job. “Oh? You from around the Northeast or somewhere else?” She asked, genuinely curious. “What do you miss most about where you grew up?” Luce asked, taking another swig of beer. Playing with fringe of the blanket, she wound a strand of material around her fingers before absently braiding three of them together. “Ugh, fucking mimes. If I never saw one again, it’d be too soon.” Luce groaned, casting the braided bit of blanket aside. Raising an eyebrow at the woman, she tilted her head. “You fought a mime? You got stabbed?” She asked, intrigued. Celeste didn’t look like the type to go around fighting things, or betting stabbed by them. “Are you okay, now?”

Celeste found she liked the way Luce looked at her and couldn’t take her own eyes off Luce. It was hard to ignore how soft her lips looked and she supposed there wasn’t a reason to. This was a date, after all. “Tennessee, actually. Small mountain town called Seven Devils.” She pondered the question a moment before answering, “That’s a tough one. It’s been so long since I’ve been back, but I do miss the little hole in the wall country kitchens. They always had the best food.” She leaned back a bit to level herself with Luce, resting on her own arms, beer still in her right hand. She tried to shrug it off. “I could go my whole life without seeing another mime and I’d be happy. And yeah, I’m okay now. I’m tougher than I look.” She figured she could gloss over the part where she killed her own mime clone and had to stitch herself up. She turned on her side, leaning on one arm to look at Luce as she mused, “So, I know you’re a gorgeous artist who works for Ulf, but what do you do when you’re not absolutely charming the ladies who come into the shop?:

“Tennessee. That’s pretty cool.” Luce nodded, a bit intrigued at the idea of having lived somewhere outside of White Crest. She’d been in Maine her whole life-- or at least, for as long as she could remember, Las Vegas hardly counted. Aside from a view travelling out for tattoo expos and visiting other shops, Luce had never really been out of the state for anything. “Makes sense. Gotta love some good old fashioned home cooking.” She replied. That said, she couldn’t relate with the Southern cooking that Celeste probably liked. Being raised in a Turkish home meant that comfort foods were gözleme and lamb mantı, but same difference. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’d hate to see a pretty face like yours in pain.” As Celeste lay back on the picnic blanket, staring up at her, Luce grinned in response. “Oh, you know, a bit of this, bit of that.” She shrugged, “But, I’m a little more interested in cashing in those good ideas you owe me.” Luce said, before leaning forward to close the distance between them, pressing her lips against the other woman’s.

Though Celeste wasn’t sure she’d call it home cooking, it was a small thing she’d miss. There were some friends too, but it’d been so long that she wasn’t even sure they’d even share much in common anymore. Food was a simple answer. “Exactly, haven’t found a place here that gets biscuits and gravy just right yet.” She smiled at the mention of having a pretty face. She knew as much, but it was still nice to hear every once and awhile. “Thanks, I like to think my tough fighting back face still has its charms at least.” She had a slight smirk on her face as she spoke. It was almost amusing how quickly Luce could divert the conversation away from herself. She wasn’t complaining. They didn’t need to get to know everything about each other. She was hardly looking for a relationship in the midst of the shit show that her life was currently. Still, Luce was a fascinating woman and she wouldn’t have hated learning more about her. “Very insightful,” Celeste had retorted with a laugh before welcoming the feeling of Luce’s lips on hers. It was easy to let the rest of the world slip away from her thoughts as she leaned in closer. How soft Luce's lips felt on her own and the tickle of the other woman's hair against her arms only made her want more. Instinct kicked in and a hand ran through Luce's hair which was also insanely silky. Was there anything about her that wasn't just inherently hot? As she pulled away for a breath, she whispered, "Have any other good ideas? I think I like owing you."

“Mhm, I’m full of insight.” Conversation wasn’t the reason why Luce was out here and a part of her was relieved that Celeste wasn’t pulling away and trying to get her to talk. She’d had to deal with way too many girls who didn’t seem to get that she wasn’t interested in talk-- or relationships-- than she’d wanted to. Not that there was anything wrong with relationships. She just didn’t want one right now, that was it. At least, that’s what she’d always told herself. All thoughts went out of her head as the woman ran her hand through her hair and a grin played against her lips. A fantasy played through her mind, one of Celeste yanking her head back, biting her neck before-- Mhm. When the other woman pulled away and mentioned good ideas, Luce couldn’t help but smirk at her. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of good ideas.” She said, leaning back in to kiss Celeste once more before moving her lips to brush against her ear, voice low and full of desire, “One I’ve got right now is you and me, heading back to my place. And then,” Resting her hand on the woman’s hip, she pulled back to gaze intently at Celeste. “We can see where the night takes us, hm?”

For a moment, Celeste found it easy to focus on only the present. There was something freeing about it. Being able to just focus on the way Luce’s hair felt in her hand or the feeling of her breath on her ear. It was intoxicating and more than anything, she wanted to forget about everything else, but at the mention of going to Luce’s home, reality came crashing back. This had been a bad idea. Why did she think she could have a normal night in the midst of all that was going on? She knew the bounty was picked up and she couldn’t risk someone finding her at Luce’s. Putting someone else in danger was the last thing she needed to do right now and she frowned slightly at Luce, not quite pulling away. “Trust me when I say I want to, but I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” There was no good way to explain why without sounding paranoid, crazy, or both so she looked down momentarily. “It’s definitely not you, I mean, look at you,” she gestured at Luce, who did indeed look like something out of a fantasy, “I’m sorry.” Weak finish, but she should have known better.

When Celeste pulled away, Luce didn’t protest. As much as she would have enjoyed a night of what would have been undoubtedly hot sex, she wasn’t that disappointed. She could just as easily call up one of the women on her phone for a booty call or hit up one of the bars in town to see if anyone was interested in going home with her. But, honestly, just hanging out with Celeste was nice in its own way. With a quiet laugh at the woman’s hurried reassurances that it wasn’t her, Luce waved a hand. “It’s whatever, don’t worry.” That said, a slight frown crossed her face. “It’s not because I live with my sisters, is it? Because… they have no room to complain.” She said with a slight scowl. The number of times she’d walked into the kitchen to see Dario standing there, waiting for Bea to make breakfast, was incredibly fucking annoying. “But yeah, don’t worry about it. Besides,” She said with a smirk, “We can still hang out here.”

Celeste had to admit Luce was being pretty cool about the whole thing. She had undeniably been giving her the green light before and put on the brakes out of seemingly nowhere. Somehow the prospect of her being mixed up in the current danger Celeste was facing didn't seem like a reality until she mentioned her home. It had been foolish, but Luce seemed like a good woman that she wanted her parents to stay far away from. Really, she wished they'd stay the hell away from White Crest altogether, but she'd have to deal with them eventually. Maybe Luce couldn't know about all of that, but she was being understanding enough with the very minimal reasoning provided. She relaxed a little bit, leaning back watching her as she asked if it was about living with her sisters. Her head shook slightly and her brow line scrunched up a bit as she began connecting the dots. "Sisters," she asked, "Wait... Are you Bea and Nell's sister?" She watched waiting for an answer before adding, "Thanks for... well, understanding."

At Celeste’s questioning tone, Luce felt the back of her neck heat bright red in a rare moment of embarrassment. She hadn’t even known that she was related to them. Well fuck. She hadn’t meant to out herself as living with them, or the fact that her sisters were Bea and Nell. But… Fuck, fuck, fuck. Cat was out of the bag now, and it was all her own doing. With a slightly pained sigh, Luce nodded. “Yeah. That’s them.” She said, doing her best to keep her tone neutral. But, it was impossible to keep the faint traces of bitterness entirely from her voice. She hated it when people referred to her as Bea’s younger sister, as Nell’s older sister. Or worse. Nisa’s middle daughter. Ugh. Lifting her beer to her lips, she took a drink, grateful for the distraction. “Of course. I’m not some pushy fratbro, if you say you’re not into it, you’re not into.” She nodded.

It seemed that her sisters may have been an off topic, but Celeste wasn’t quite sure why. She didn’t want to push it. There was the sinking feeling of realizing Luce probably already knew about her. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it begged the question of why was she here with her to begin with. Though that meant she must also have magic at her disposal and could probably fend for herself. She mulled it over and looked at Luce thoughtfully, “I’m not sure why I didn’t realize that. I’ve technically already been over then.” She realized how bad that sounded the moment she said it, “Wait, not like that. They were helping with some protective things.” That didn’t give too much away. If she knew, she knew. If she didn’t, she probably had a million questions. She could feel the sweat building up in her palms and her heart thumping heavier in her chest. With another sip of beer for good measure, she looked back to Luce, “Thank god, I hate frat boys.”

“You were at Bea’s house?” Luce echoed, confusion mingling with a slight tinge of ‘oh fuck’ in her voice. She’d checked their group chat before coming out here and it wasn’t as though Celeste was a super common name. Plus, after the debacle where she and Bea thought they’d slept with the same person last year, they’d made a point of adding last names to the list. And, after the Jennifer/Jenn/Jenny debacle, they made it law that they had to add last names. But, when Celeste quickly clarified, the tension eased. “Huh. Okay.” Hang on-- they’d been working on protective things? Celeste knew Ulf, had been looking for him when she’d stopped by with lunch. Was she one of the people he was helping? Rather than dwell on that revelation, Luce began to draw shapes on the folds of the picnic blanket. “For sure, for sure. Frat boys are fucking annoying. Take it from someone who works with them on a nearly weekly basis.” She said with a grin.

While she didn’t push it, Celeste had the feeling Luce would eventually find out. Her sisters and her boss both knew about her situation. It felt inevitable Luce would eventually find out, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain when it was the last thing she wanted to think about it. More than anything, she wanted the whole situation to just disappear, but there was only one way that would happen. She tried to push the thoughts away. They brought a certain queasiness to her stomach that needed to subside. She took another gulp of beer, hoping it’d help her relax again. She focused on Luce, hands making shapes in the blanket still looking like a dream under the sparkle of the night sky. She masked her sigh with a small laugh, “I’m sure you’ve heard some especially heinous things from them. At least you get to poke them with a needle over and over when they’re being gross. I get the joy of bringing them extra ranch.” She raised her bottle and toasted, “Here’s to hoping for minimal frat boys in our future.”

#p: bof #p: celeste bennett #wickedswriting

9 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Tactical Disadvantage || Morgan & Ulfric

Timing: Before the full moon

Parties: @big-bad-ulf & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes a sparring match. Morgan catches a lucky break.

When Ulfric had made arrangements with Morgan to start her combat training, he hadn’t expected to still be feeling the effects of the sudden fatigue that’d come over him, but that was all the more reason to brush up on his skills. Hunters wouldn’t wait until he was primed and ready to engage with them on his own, he had to be ready to face them at his weakest, and this was possibly the weakest he’d felt since he was a child, at least so close to the full moon. “Have you been practicing your approach?” He asked her as they arrived in the small wooded clearing on his property that would serve as their arena. “Care to show me?” He asked, walking to the centre of their makeshift ring. “Remember to trust your instincts. Go for the parts that tear easily, the guts, the eyes… the throat since most adversaries you’re likely to face will still need to draw breath. You have the advantage there, so use it. I’ll give you a three second head start.” His instructions finished, the wolf dug his feet firmly into the ground in a defensive stance and closed his eyes, awaiting her attack.

Morgan was only too relieved to drive over to Ulfric’s for another combat training session. She hadn’t been attacked since that one time in the woods, but she couldn’t help but be aware how much of that was pure luck. She needed to be ready for the next time, and knowing White Crest, that would be sooner rather than later. She followed him to the clearing on the edge of his property, grinning. “I have, as a matter of fact,” she said, grinning. “Maybe not wolf-stealthy yet, but I think you’ll be impressed.”

The wolf man closed his eyes and Morgan took the chance to give her best crouch. One foot directly in front of the other, eyes ahead, stay silent. She didn’t even need to breathe. One foot, then the other, creeping slowly until she was in lunging distance. She waited, still as death, and shot out from Ulfric’s flank, aiming a blow right for his kidneys.

Silence settled over the clearing and Ulfric smiled, impressed at Morgan’s progress, though it was quickly obliterated by a groan as she struck his side. Faen, she was strong. Stronger than he’d anticipated. A valuable insight, but one that couldn’t have come at a worse time, not when he wanted to keep the extent to which he was ‘under the weather’ under wraps. Still, there was more to coming out on top of a skirmish than strength. Quick reflexes, for instance, could mean the difference between life and death. Or unlife, as it was in her case. As her blow landed, he pivoted taking advantage of her uncontrolled moment to grab her by the throat. “Remember to get your hands back up as fast as you can after a blow to protect your face and neck,” He advised, holding her at arm’s length and using his additional height to keep her out of striking distance. “Even if your opponent’s unsure of what you are, decapitation is widely considered a safe bet.” Any other time he might have lifted her off the ground, to illustrate the lesson that leaving openings like that could lead to getting your head ripped off a little more clearly, but for now he just let her go. Perhaps Morgan would think he was going easy on her, but better she believed his weakness was of the sentimental variety rather than the physical. “Square up,” Ulfric commanded, backing up a few paces and raising his fists to the level of his eyes in demonstration. “Try to hit me again.”

Morgan was off her balance and in Ulfric’s grasp. She was strong, but her body had all the finesse of a bludgeon. Ulfric hadn’t broken a sweat picking her up, and with his long, burly arms, she could only flail cartoonishly at him. She gave him a pouting grimace and nodded, lesson learned. “Thanks for at least saving me my pride,” she said dryly. She rolled her muscles and squared up again, fists raised. Between Remmy and Mina, she’d learned a lot (and hell, she might need it sooner than later if the plan to get Remmy out of that awful place worked the way it was supposed to), but she hadn’t gone up against anyone as big as Ulfric before. She raised her fists near her eyes and steadied herself with a breath. She could be sharp. She could be swift and calm. That was how it worked, right? Jaw set with determination, she struck out towards him, poised to snap back into place just as quickly.

Ulfric watched for the angle of her swing, and dodged out of the way of her fist just in time. See? He could remember how to do this if he focussed, remember how to evade and defend instead of just relying on his fortitude to allow him to take hits while he got up close enough to strike a finishing blow. He was just out of practice, having gotten away with slacking on the defensive front since the sudden growth spurt at 16 that had left him tallest and broadest of his siblings by a wide margin. The werewolf let loose a swing of his own, but she had already moved back into position to block, and his hand collided with hers with a resounding crack followed by a… rumble? Alright, he definitely wasn’t responsible for that part. Stumbling backwards as the ground of the clearing shifted and split open, Ulfric just managed to call out, “Behind you, Morgan, look out!” before a long, multi-jointed leg with a serrated edge and coarse covering of hair along it’s sleek black exoskeleton extended towards her.

Morgan leapt to the side and whirled on her new opponent. “These again?” She shrieked. The spider monster (its name was something that sounded like churro, right?) hissed and spat its venom. “Shit!” She tugged on Ulfric’s sleeve, trying to pull him back. “P-poison! I mean--venom! The thing--venom!” She put her arm in front of him, ready to block a shot from the spider’s mouth with her body if need be. But--shit, was she even immune to that stuff? The question came to Morgan just as the giant spider whirled on them, hissing at having missed its target. Morgan’s fingers itched to unleash her alchemy, but this was not going to be anything like last time. “Run!” She called. And sprinted off, hoping Ulfric would follow. They were near water, right?

Run?! The last time Ulfric had run away from a fight was… never. If the circumstances had been different, he might have held his ground to buy Morgan time. But without the necessary strength to snap off one of the spider’s limbs and beat it with it, staying was just likely to result in a face full of the poison or venom or whatever the correct term was for foul liquid oozing from the creature's mouthparts. Jumping back at Morgan’s yell just in time to miss a sprayed mouthful of said liquid, he let groan in frustration at being forced to turn his back on a foe and took off running after her. With his longer strides he soon caught up to her at the edge of the wide creek that split the forest of the outskirts in two. “Get across to the other side!” He yelled over the rush of the water as he started to ford his way across, sparing a glance at the spider behind. It gave chase with surprising speed, but its precarious, spindly legs would hold no traction against water’s flow.

Morgan pounded her legs against the forest floor, running in zig zags to avoid getting smacked against the floor. Was she wasting time trying to breathe right? Was it even worth it with her stupid, short little legs? Moran tried to lift her legs higher, move faster. The air was roaring in her ears, she could barely hear Ulfric direct her. She barely heard the spider hiss and spit at them again. She turned back to look, hearing her mother’s voice in her head the whole while (never look back when you’re being chased!) and saw the spider click and hiss and ready another spray of venom just in time to leap onto a tree trunk just shy of the water. Morgan didn’t stop to think about the tactical merits of this. She scrambled up, tearing her hands and legs as she went, realizing when she’d reached a good heavy branch that the spider could also climb. “Fuck!” She screamed. “Uh, keep going!” She called to Ulfric, and prepared to fling herself as close to the water as she could. She really shouldn’t have chickened out of diving lessons.

Ulfric turned at the panic in Morgan’s voice, expecting to find her in the water behind him but instead seeing her half dangling out of the tree, with the spider scrambling up behind her. He considered turning back, but the rushing water battered against his threatening to knock his feet out from under him at any moment. Reluctantly, he pushed through the current to the other side, hauling himself up the opposite bank where the stable ground would allow him to be of more aid. “Let go, I’ll be here to pull you out!” The werewolf yelled back at her, sitting on the bank, and reaching out of the water towards her. The spider had scuttled up the branch Morgan had climbed onto, bending slightly downward towards the creek with their combined weight. Ulfric could just make out the wet clicking noise emanating from the overgrown arachnid that signalled another wave of venom was about to be unleashed. “Now, Morgan!” He pleaded with his words and his eyes, gesturing her urgently towards him in case the sound was lost among all the noise and the chaos.

Morgan leapt, screaming one more loud, drawn out “fuck!” with no sense of stealth or anything else. She heard the venom hiss through the air and pedaled her legs through the sky as she sank sudden and hard as a rock. Water flooded Morgan’s body and she flailed with a flurry of panic. Maybe she’d been hit. Maybe this was it. She would sink and be eaten slowly, and maybe she would regrow and be okay in a day or two but maybe she wouldn’t, shit, maybe-- Morgan’s feet hit the riverbed and she pushed herself up, kicking for dear life. She surfaced, coughing up water she’d swallowed. She reached for Ulfric’s waiting arm and scrambled to shore. Behind her, the spider monster was testing the waters, struggling on its feeble legs to follow her and still spitting and hissing with frustration. Morgan raised a hand to block any that crossed the distance and--nothing. She looked up at Ulfric, and then down at her body again. She hadn’t been hit once, but twice over. “Well…” she coughed. “Huh.”

‘Huh’ just about covered it, Ulfric thought, as he crouched, breathing heavily on the side of the creek. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking her over in concern. It didn’t appear that any of the venom had touched her, but there was still the possibility that she’d been injured in the fall and subsequent struggle through the water. Staggering to his feet, he scooped up a rock at the creek’s edge and lobbed it in the spider’s direction, prompting the creature to scuttle backward to avoid it. “Let’s go, we’ll head a bit further into the trees on this side where that thing can’t see us, then we can cross back further downstream,” he suggested, offering his arm to her, to hoist her up or help her walk if needed. He wasn’t sure how long his strength would last if he had to carry her, but what he currently lacked in that he made up for in stubbornness, so he would try. “I wish I could say there was some sort of lesson to be learned here,” the werewolf continued as they made their way deeper into the forest out of view of the hissing overgrown pest. “But I can’t think of anything, other than that it’s best not to question it when the wheel of fate it spins your way, just take your lucky breaks where you can get them.”

Morgan staggered to her feet, brushing the river grime off her legs. “Ew…” She scraped a handful of something shiny and sticky from her calves. It was thin like mucus with a weird, tint that reminded her of the poison extracts her mother worked out of plants. “Uuh…” She rubbed it off her hands and onto the ground but Earth there was...a lot of it. If the substance was what she suspected, she was coated in at least a few sprays worth. She hadn’t been lucky, just...immune. Well, that put a whole other spin on her running and screaming like an idiot. She could’ve waltzed right into the water for all the harm that would’ve happened to her. She had wondered if it was possible, but it was different, feeling protected by her new body for a change. “Right,” she said. “I guess fate has a sense of humor sometimes after all. Gotta appreciate it when the punchline doesn’t kill you.”

#tactical disadvantage #wr ulfric #wr chatzy #wr ulfric chatzy #wr #wickedswriting

5 notes · View notes

ladydaedra · 4 years

Text

Snowed In

Part: 4/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC

Summary: An alliance has been struck and the tides of the war is about to shift as a result.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of ‘Game of Thrones’ feeling; May contain controversial themes

Wordcount: 2300

------

'To the one that receives this message, the offer was finalized and another banner joins ours.

I depart for the Base today and ask for you to meet me there so we can formulate a plan to defeat the enemy.

I'll go into more details once everyone is in the same room.

~ Ayla'

Ayla folds the two pieces of paper and pours some melted, red wax on the edge before stamping her symbol on it. A dragon surrounded by fire.

She lets the wax dry as she stares at a portrait on the wall in front of her, biting at her lips. It is late into the night and they were going to leave to the base that houses her rebellion in the morning.

She lets out a sigh as she taps her fingers on the surface of the desk, traveling into her thoughts. She just made an alliance with the Stormcloaks. The chances of winning this war against the Thalmor just went up.

She smiles to herself just as the wooden door to her room swings open, revealing a joyous Xaliyah, laughing at herself and on the way to being drunk.

"Whata you smiling bout?" Xaliyah asks, leaning against the door.

Ayla looks down at her desk before meeting her friend's gaze, "just today's success," she replies and Xaliyah stares at her in silence for a few seconds before walking forward and grabbing Ayla's wrists and trying to tug the Dragonborn onto her feet.

"Then celebrate it at the bar," Xaliyah suggests as she tries to pull Ayla to her feet, "Bryn and Kharjo are there as well,"

Ayla sighs and shakes her head, sending the brunette an apologetic smile, "as much as I would like to, Xal, I got a few more things to do before I go to bed,"

Xaliyah sighs as she drops Ayla's wrists, "you're such a workaholic, Ayla," Xaliyah says with an eye-roll, "have some fun tonight. You've earned it,"

"I'll celebrate when we have won some victories against the Thalmor," Ayla responds, walking over and grabbing her cloak, tossing it over her shoulders and putting the hood over her head before picking up the two letters on the desk.

"Who are those for?" Xaliyah asks, following the raven-haired female out of the room.

"Athena and Tal," Ayla replies as she walks past the bar where Brynjolf is ordering a few more drinks.

"Aye, Ayla, joining us for a few drinks, are ya?" Brynjolf asks, holding up a tankard filled with ale. Ayla turns around when she reaches the door.

"Not tonight, Brynjolf," she replies as she holds up the two letters in her hand, "got business to take care of,"

"It's going to be a big blizzard tonight, dear," the owner, Elda, says from behind the bar as she hands Brynjolf another mug of ale, "don't stay out too late,"

Ayla smiles politely at the older woman, bowing her head in respect, "I'll be fine," she says before glancing over at Xaliyah and Brynjolf, who is now walking up the stairs and to the second floor, "don't be afraid to yell at them if things get too wild," she adds to Elda before opening the door and stepping out into the wind.

She hears the howling of a pack of wolves outside the city walls and the footsteps of someone walking past her. She gives them a friendly nod before heading towards the city gates in search for a courier at the stables. But she slows to a stop after taking three steps.

A courier is the most common mode of sending messages in Skyrim. Ayla knows that the Thalmor intercepts any couriers they come across. These messages will not be safe from the Thalmor, or the empire for that matter.

So she turns around and heads straight towards the Palace of Kings. She jogs up the steps, cloak flowing behind her as snow starts to fall. She needs to hurry or risk being stuck in the Palace. Not that she would complain; it would be heated and she would have food and shelter, but she would probably be given a bed meant for the soldiers to take a quick nap on. She much prefers the comfortable beds of Candlehearth Hall.

She pushes the door open and shuts it behind her. As she gets used to the silence of the hall compared to the windy weather outside, she turns around and examines the room. Empty. Of course. She had no idea where the ravens are kept and knew that poking around would be unwelcome.

Just as she was about to walk back outside, a cough and footsteps stop her. She looks over her shoulder to see the steward of the Palace, "excuse me, sir," she calls out, removing her hood and walking forward several steps. The man stops walking and looks over at her.

"May I help you at such a late hour?" he questions, obviously confused, as Ayla stops a few feet in front of him, "I'm afraid Jarl Ulfric is asleep right now-"

Ayla shakes her head, "I'm not here to talk with him," she explains, "I'm actually wondering if you have any ravens I can borrow to send a few letters,"

The man furrows his brows, "why not find a courier?"

"Too risky, especially now in the times we live in," she explains and the man slowly nods, "now if you could point me in the right direction-"

"We keep what ravens we have up in the tower with the court wizard, Wuunferth," he explains, nodding over at a door to the left of the entrance to the Palace, "but seeing that it is so late at night, I assume that he is asleep as well,"

Ayla sighs in disappointment. She hoped to get these letters sent tonight so the two they are addressed to receives them in the morning, "Oh, I'll just come back tomorrow morning then," she says, stepping back a few steps, "thank you for your help," she adds with a smile and turns back towards the door.

"Ma'am," the man says and Ayla looks back at him, hoping that he will take her to the ravens instead, "it's snowing pretty heavily at the moment. I would suggest that you stay here for the night,"

Of course, that is what he says. She wasn't in the palace for that long, how fast did this snowstorm pick up? Ayla opens and closes her mouth, trying to think of an appropriate way to decline his suggestion.

"Dragonborn or not, this weather is not suitable for travel, even if your destination is down the road," he adds firmly and Ayla sees no point in wasting her breath arguing with him. With an irritated sigh, she runs a hand through her hair before crossing her arms over her chest, sending the steward a pointed look.

"Fine," she sighs, the exhaustion slowly getting to her, "where do I sleep?" she figured he would reply with a simple 'in the barracks' since that would be a simple and easy solution.

"If you'll follow me, I can show you to your temporary quarters," the man says with a warm smile before walking to the door that he said lead to where the wizard was.

"Isn't this.."

"Wuunferth has a room in this section of the Palace," the man explains as they walk up a set of stairs, "there are several other rooms here where we let our more esteemed guests sleep," he rounds a few corners before stopping in front of a door, unlocking it and swinging it open for her, "this will be your room for the night," he adds as Ayla walks in.

It was a modest room with a large bed in the middle, a window showing the dark outside, and a fireplace surrounded by wooden chairs. A set of table and chairs sit in front of the window, a bottle of wine and a tankard sitting on the table.

"Thank you, Mr..." Ayla says, turning back to the steward, who smiles in response.

"Just call me Jorleif, ma'am," he says, grabbing the door handle to close it, "and if you need any help in the morning, please come find me," and with that he shuts the door, leaving Ayla alone in the foreign room.

She takes her cloak off and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs before sitting down on the bed, listening to the crackling of the fire over the windy storm outside. Just one night. Tomorrow morning, she will send the letters and then be off to her base.

~~~

Ayla couldn't find Wuunferth. She checked the only spot she could think of that a court wizard would be, but he wasn't there. And the only other people in the section that she was in were the three people who seem to hate her so much. After putting her cloak back on, she descends the stairs and returns to the main hall.

The three people are seated at the table, eating and conversing with each other in hushed voices. Ayla glances at the throne and sees it still empty. She blinks as she looks to the right of the throne and sees Jorleif standing there. She smiles as she approaches him.

"How may I help you today, ma'am?" he questions and Ayla glares over her shoulder at the blonde woman who had scoffed at Ayla.

"I can't find the court wizard anywhere," she explains, fingers running across the letters in her hand, feeling embarrassed that she can't find someone as simple as a court wizard, "I was asking if you could help me,"

Jorleif nods in response, laughing a bit, "of course," he says, leading his way back towards the door she just walked out of. Ayla follows close behind but looks back at the table when she overhears a commotion.

"Are you just going to let that hag Maven remain the Jarl of Riften?" the blonde woman says angrily, standing up and staring or glaring, Ayla couldn't tell since the woman's back was towards her, at Ulfric as he approaches his throne, "it's been days, Ulfric. You said I'll have Riften back by now,"

"And I am working on that, Laila," Ulfric replies with a sigh as he sits down, giving the woman a tired look, "there are more important things at the moment. Riften will still be there,"

Laila Law-Giver. That's her name. Former Jarl of Riften. Exiled when Ayla agreed to give Riften to the Empire at the cease-fire meeting between both sides of the Civil War so long ago. It was a decision she regrets. She would have preferred if the Imperials stayed out of her favorite city and especially if Maven wouldn't have been made Jarl in place of Laila.

Maven Black-Briar. A name and person Ayla hates and one day hopes to rid the world of. When she first met Maven, Ayla could tell all the woman cared about was benefiting herself. No one but her and her family. Xaliyah's own hatred fueled Ayla's even more. If the Empire put people like Maven on the throne, then that is all the more reason to rid Skyrim of them.

She is pulled from her thoughts when Laila sits back down. Ayla stares at the blonde for a few seconds before looking over at Ulfric, who is already staring at her. Ayla's gaze hardens before she closes her slightly opened mouth and looks back at Jorleif as they finally reach the door.

"Wuunferth, you have a visitor," Jorleif says and an elderly man turns around and smiles when he sees Ayla.

"Ah, the Dragonborn," he says, still smiling, "I heard that you were visiting. It is an honor to meet you," Ayla returns his handshake with a smile and a 'thank you', "now, what brings you here today?"

"I have a few letters I need to send by raven,"

Wuunferth raises his brows at her in shock at such a request, "ravens? What for? What happened to the couriers?"

Ayla smiles, knowing that question would be asked, "these letters hold valuable information, " she explains, "I will not give them to a courier with the risk of them being intercepted," she watches as Wuunferth studies her for a few seconds before nodding.

"We live in a time filled with so much war that it is no longer safe for a courier to bring letters to people," he says before walking towards the back of his room, where Ayla can hear a few caws, "two letters, two birds," he says, unhooking a cage and letting a raven step onto his wrist, "tell them the location and person and they'll be off,"

Ayla rolls the letters up and ties one of them to each bird's feet. She watches as they both fly out of the open window beside them, "thank you, sir," she says, turning away from the window as Wuunferth closes it. The two walk out of the back room and into the main area of his room.

"Anything to help the Dragonborn in these trying times," he replies as he goes back to his work. Ayla takes that as her cue to leave and retreats back into the main hall of the Palace. It barely changed in the ten minutes she was gone. Laila continues urging Ulfric to go liberate Riften from the Empire's grip and the Jarl dismisses her words with a wave of his hand.

Ayla turns her attention back to the door and lifts her hood over her head as she nears it. She needs to hurry to the stables so she can get to her base in a few days time. When she arrives, that is when this war gets deadlier than it was before.

#Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #Ulfric Stormcloak #Brynjolf #Cicero #Imperials #Civil War #Dragonborn #Dovahkiin #Thieves guild #Dark Brotherhood #Rebellion #Thalmor #long time no post #yeah it's been a hot minute #but enjoy

5 notes · View notes

whispersafterdusk · 4 years

Text

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 21

Three days had passed and nothing had happened. No Varea, no Kestrel, no visible change in the guards or mages.

The Jarl had returned by then and to Onmund's dismay Ulfric was with him; neither of them was especially pleased, and wasted no time letting him know how deeply angered they were over this whole fiasco. It didn't escape his attention that, during his initial little tirade - when Korir was tearing into him, Brelyna, Nelacar, and Gormir, even - that the guards were not mentioned at all; it left a sour taste in his mouth even as he argued with them, trying to get them to understand that none of this was anyone's fault but Varea's but Korir seemed especially fixated on the mages's supposed role, and he grew more heated by the moment as he spat and yelled to be heard over every word coming out of their mouths. ((Continued beneath cut))

Gormir, thankfully, stood beside Onmund and the others for the entire argument. That a Winterhold resident was willing to stand up to his own Jarl to make him see reason seemed to mellow Ulfric's fury, and finally Ulfric dismissed Korir entirely, ordering him back to his hall and everyone in the inn outside so Onmund and the others could sit with him in private. They spent the next several hours (several uncomfortable, tense hours) fully detailing to Ulfric what had happened, starting with Onmund's fall in Saarthal and ending with how they'd repelled the daedra, and the strange hum and blast that had knocked Onmund, along with everyone else that had been outside, off their feet.

"And, nothing more has attacked Winterhold?"

Onmund shook his head. "No, Jarl. Nothing. We've been preparing for the worst but it's not come. I'm..." He paused, eying Ulfric carefully. "I'm not sure what's happened, so I'm not sure if the worst WILL come." He fell silent, staring down into his lap. There's no way Kestrel and Varea could have been fighting all this time, and if one or the other had triumphed he was certain they would have returned here by now...

He looked up to find Ulfric staring at him, his chin resting on interlaced fingers and elbows braced against the table. A sigh rumbled out of him but his expression remained stony and unchanged. "You know how Korir sees your kind, mage - and how I saw you all prior to hearing the full accounting. I personally see magic as a tool but any tool can be misused. Korir wants to have all of you executed due to the danger you pose to his holding."

Onmund's eyes widened. "What? No! How can he say that?"

Ulfric held up a hand and Onmund fell silent, gripping the edge of the table between them with white-knuckled hands.

"I disagree with his broad declaration. He is blinded by fury and hate - something I too fell prey to on the way here when I heard him describing the chaos going on. I now understand, as much as I am able, what truly happened here, and I do understand Korir's desire to protect his people. As I am not yet king, nor is this my hold, what I can actually do in this situation is very limited. Once he's had time to calm down, as I have, Korir may listen to my counsel but I cannot force him to do much - not without causing an incident between our holds and casting doubts on my ability to rule once I am crowned."

"I - I understand, but Jarl, please - he can't execute them, they're innocent. I can't let him do that," Onmund growled.

Ulfric's expression hardened. "LET him do that? Are you challenging his decision before it's even made?" He paused then added "I'm sure that will help your case," his tone dripping sarcasm.

"But he's right," Brelyna broke in, leaning over the table some toward Ulfric. "And how can he want to execute the mages while letting the guards walk free? It's not fair."

"I agree. But again, this is not my hold and ultimately not my decision." Ulfric closed his eyes for a few breaths, then opened them to stare them down. "If I am capable of understanding who is truly at fault surely you can understand how my hands are tied."

Onmund felt something inside him deflate. "I...yes. Unfortunately," he muttered. "What can we do, then? I DON'T want to argue for more deaths in the name of "fairness" - those guards are just as innocent as the mages. Can you at least get Korir to..."

There was silence for a long moment - he knew what he wanted to say but it was difficult to voice it when he could imagine how Korir would react. And he knew the others would object too, but...there didn't seem to be another--

"Get him to what, mage?"

"To let us leave," Onmund sighed. "Will Korir just let us leave?"

Brelyna's eyes widened and she looked to him with an expression that was part surprise, part horror; the College was home to everyone, HAD been home to him too. There was a lot of history, a lot of hidden power, within those stone walls. To leave was... It seemed like admitting defeat, like running with their tails between their legs. But if the alternative was being put to death, wasn't running better?

Ulfric slowly straightened and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his chin. Gormir shifted on his stool, the old wood creaking a bit, and the noise drew the Jarl's attention to the man.

"...Jarl Ulfric, if I may..."

"Go on."

Gormir nodded. "There wouldn't likely be a Winterhold still handing if not for the return of Onmund here, and his master. I'm no lover or hater of magic but everyone's had days to hear what happened here, both from our Jarl and from those sitting here. They all saw these mages here defending them, and whether they like mages or not there's not a man, woman, or child here who would easily condemn someone innocent. Surely Jarl Korir has to see that none will trust his judgement if he falters now." Ulfric slowly raised an eyebrow at that and Gormir leaned back from him, looking uncertain. "I-I mean to say, no one will see him as fair. I...I know I wouldn't. I can't help but see myself standing in the boots of the mages, or of the men and women I've known and worked beside for years. That he'd spare one and not the other when they were both in the same situation... Who could possibly trust him in the future not to do that again when it's them in the mages' position?"

Ulfric slowly nodded to him. "It is Korir's choice, and he will have to live with the consequences of his decision." He stood abruptly; Onmund jumped a bit at the sudden movement. "Come - I wish to see the defenses you have, and hear what you have planned. I could only spare twenty men and I must return to Windhelm as soon as possible, and no doubt Korir will soon tire of being ordered about in his own hold and demand the opportunity to speak to you as I have."

Onmund nodded silently and stood to follow Ulfric back out into the snow; those that had been ordered out of the inn hurried inside as they left, seeking shelter from the storm that was still blowing. Tugging up his hood Onmund took the lead and, shouting over the gusting wind, led Ulfric around Winterhold pointing out where they'd placed wards and where Gormir had set what men were left to defend the town. Ulfric didn't say much aside from directing pairs of men from the forces he'd brought to go here or there, shoring up where he saw weak points in Winterhold's defenses. At the far end of the town they paused as something caused the wind around them to shift -- like the wind had taken a very brief break in blowing to-

The twilight matriarch chose that moment to land ten feet from them, and Onmund quickly reached out to stop Ulfric from drawing his weapon.

"Wait- that thing is on our side."

"Have you gone mad, mage?"

Onmund's brain chose that moment to scream at him over who he'd just manhandled, and he quickly pulled his hands back. "I'm sorry, ah, sorry -- I mean, yes, it's on our side. I know it sounds dumb or dangerous but this creature was also forced to act against its will. It's allied itself with us until Varea is dealt with."

"You are foolish, thinking a beast like that would-"

The wind halted entirely then, and the air took on a blueish tint. Ulfric paused, whatever he was about to say cut off; alarmed, Onmund looked around to see that Ulfric, as well as the others, were frozen in place - as though time itself had stopped for everyone but himself. What could have...

"Kestrel?" he called into the silence. A thin line of blue light appeared in front of him further down the road, widening into an oval through which a man stepped. Onmund blinked in surprise at Quaranir. "You... You came back. Why?"

The psijic's expression softened briefly even as his hand came up in a sharp gesture that then ended with the flat of his palm thrust out toward the mage. From his fingers sprang narrow filaments of white that raced across the air between them, striking Onmund and coiling around him in thick bands of conjured rope.

"Hey-! What are you-"

The ropes tightened, pulling his arms in to his hips and forcing his ankles to snap together; he wobbled on his feet and then toppled, biting deeply into his lower lip as his chin slammed into the snow. He felt the back of his robes ripple and then he began to rapidly slide across the ground toward Quaranir; as he came closer to Quaranir whatever force was moving him was slowly lifting him upright as well as rotating him so his back was gradually turning toward the man.

Mere feet from Quaranir Onmund winced at an ear-piercing shriek and then again found himself falling face first into the snow as the psijic dropped him with a startled cry. Behind him Quaranir grappled with...the matriarch. The twilight had the talons of one foot sunk deeply into the mage's arm and was tearing at him with the other, all while beating at Quaranir's face and shoulders with her wings. The blue tint to the air disappeared and through his daze Onmund could hear Ulfric continuing to speak as though nothing had happened for several words before the man realized that Onmund was not beside him and--

"We are under attack!"

With a groan Onmund awkwardly rolled away from the thrashing tail and Quaranir's staggering gait; his lip was throbbing and his chin freezing as the wind reached the slick of blood and melted snow running down his face.

"Onmund!"

Brelyna, with Gormir on her heels, rushed to him; in the few seconds she had before Gormir reached him she grabbed the ropes and tugged at them - they didn't budge in the slightest - but then the Nord guardsman just grabbed his belt and hood and bodily lifted Onmund off the ground and swung him away and over his shoulder as several of Ulfric's men rushed toward the struggling figure of Quaranir.

Onmund's ears popped from a whoosh of approaching pressure and there behind Gormir he spied a second psijic man stepping free from a portal. "Behind us!"

Ulfric heard him and spun in one movement. The psijic's feet had barely touched the snow when Ulfric bellowed in the tongue of the dragons; Onmund had never seen a Thu'um performed before and whatever this one was lifted the psijic off his feet and sent him flying backward to crack into the trunk of a pine tree before falling to the ground in a heap.

Gormir plunked Onmund's feet to the ground and steadied him, and beside them Brelyna was rapidly muttering under her breath, trying spell after spell until finally she hit upon the correct one and the ropes binding him disappeared.

"Thanks," he let out in a rush, spinning to look back toward Quaranir in time to see the psijic manage to throw the twilight and guards aside in a sweeping motion; the man's arm was shredded down to the bone and the snow at his feet was stained a bright reddish pink. The guards recovered far quicker than the psijic must have been expecting and he flickered out of view to reappear further away, frantically trying to tend to his bad wounded arm.

"-I don't get it, he helped me before. Why did he--" Onmund fell forward, or at least, part of him did. From where he landed in the snow he had a good view of his own body stumbling, crumpling into the panicked grasping hands of Brelyna and Gormir.

Oh no...not again. Not now.

If he was here and his body was there, that meant--

He watched as his eyes opened, and he looked around in mild confusion before his gaze fell on the sight of Ulfric advancing on the psijic still collapsed at the tree's base. Onmund's face twisted into a look of sheer fury, and one of his hands raised to the sky and sent out a blast of golden light that, similar to Quaranir's spell, encased the unconscious psijic man in yellowish bonds. Ulfric spun around, and Onmund's spirit shifted unexpectedly to hang at the Jarl's shoulder, staring his own body down; at least this time, while he wasn't able to control where his consciousness appeared, he felt a lot more stable and whole than the first time this had happened -- he actually was able to keep his thoughts together and coherent, and could understand what was going on around him a lot better.

Not...that he actually understood what was happening right now, to be honest.

"I warned you and you pursued anyway - this body is younger and much more rested than I was when you took me. What chance do you think you have NOW?"

Took? ...wait. The psijics captured Kestrel? What about Varea?

"Hush, apprentice," his body said as it turned to face the guards and Quaranir. "I will explain when this is dealt with."

Quaranir was being driven back rapidly off the road, fighting to keep the five guards in front of him while the twilight and Nelacar harried him with spells and talons; with a gesture Onmund's body sent out a crackling blast of lightning that wove between the guards without harming them and slammed into the hurried shield Quaranir raised and just as quickly shattered it. Onmund's spirit shifted again to float alongside his body as it stalked forward and sliced the air with a hand gesture; the guards were roughly shoved to either side to clear a path for Onmund's body to approach Quaranir uncontested. As they (that is, Onmund's body and his spirit, separately) approached him Quaranir's gaze shifted -- it almost seemed like he could see Onmund's spirit, and Onmund supposed that Kestrel, inside his body, must have realized this as well as his body extended a hand and Onmund was drawn into his own palm.

"Don't even think about it," his body snarled. The hand holding his spirit pulled in close to his chest, and his own fingers blocked his view of what was going on outside of his body. "I need no further reasons to cut you down."

If Quaranir responded Onmund couldn't hear him from where he was sheltered against his own chest; at the moment all he could hear was his own heartbeat and hear his body breathing, and also strangely feel the magicka flowing out of him as Kestrel used him to cast several spells.

"What is going on here, mage?"

Well, he could definitely hear Ulfric, and he sounded angry again.

"Jarl Ulfric, I can explain-"

And that was Brelyna.

"Don't you-- aaargh!" He - Kestrel, in his body - let out a frustrated noise at whatever was going on; Onmund had the sensation of a sharp turn. "You, girl - Brelyna, was it? Explain-"

"No, YOU explain, mage," Ulfric interrupted. "Explain now or be cut down where you stand."

"That's her - that's Onmund's master," Brelyna cut in. "The spell binding the two of them lets her speak through him, and-"

"-and I'm to believe that, after this?"

"Enough. We're only going to cause confusion if we talk over one another." Onmund inwardly winced -- Ulfric was going to think HE was the one talking to him in such a manner; now more than ever Onmund wished he could see what was going on beyond the closed fingers of the hand that was holding his spirit. He gently moved as his chest lifted - Kestrel, taking a deep breath - and the fingers above what he currently perceived to be his head uncurled just enough to let him see his physical chin above him, and through a small gap between his fingers he could barely make out where Ulfric stood, with Gormir behind him.

"Now," his body went on. "I am Kestrel. Onmund is my apprentice, and there is a spell at play that is allowing me to speak to you right now. Onmund is safe, just not in control of his body at the moment."

"I'm to trust you at your word?"

"Yes, lord, you are. None of you are in a position to disagree."

Onmund winced again. Kestrel, please don't pick a fight with Ulfric and his guards. He felt himself bobbing up and down and what he could see of Ulfric was growing closer.

"'Lord' is not my title, mage."

"Jarl, lord, whatever you're called is hardly a concern of mine right now. Were there just the two?"

"The two...?"

"The two Psijics. Were there only those two that showed up?"

"Yes."

Onmund's view shifted again and he could barely make out the edge of the twlight's wing. "And you - why are you here?"

"You defeated the woman who destroyed Azura's altar, mortal?"

"I did. You'll find what's left of her in a crater far to the south of here."

Now he could make out the top of the twilight's head, and as it dipped briefly out and back into view he assumed the twilight had nodded. "-good. Azura asks, in exchange for the aid she has provided, that the young mage you possess assist her priestess in restoring her altar."

"Agreed," came Kestrel's response. "Now return to your mistress as you do not belong here."

Hey, wait a moment - I don't get a choice?

Above him his chin lowered as his face gazed into the hand that held him. "Don't complain, Onmund. You can handle melding a statue back together in an afternoon." Onmund heard the rustling of wings and again his view shifted though this time all he could see through the gaps in his fingers was snow and trees. "Now, Jarl - I suggest we retreat somewhere better guarded, where I can explain who I am and why I am here in this form as you see me now. -- and before you get any ideas, I do not intend to hold this possession longer than I must. Onmund is fine but I find being in a body that is not mine to be incredibly uncomfortable - the only one of us that could be assumed to be suffering is me."

Without further word his body turned and began walking up the road; Onmund could sense himself using restoration magicks to mend his lip, and could hear the crunching of multiple footsteps behind and around him but Kestrel kept him cupped in close to his own chest until he found himself peeking out at the darkened inside of the inn. Once they were seated his hand deposited himself onto his shoulder which gave him a free view of everything around him, and as he sat perched next to his own ear he listened as Kestrel described the ambush by the psijics -- how they'd swooped in as she lay there, wounded and exhausted, in the aftermath of finally besting Varea by destroying the crown itself while the woman had been wearing it.

"And so, Jarl, they now hold my body captive and as of this moment there's no feasible means of retrieving me," his body went on.

"But what about Onmund?" he heard Brelyna ask (she was sitting on his other side, his own head was between him and her and he could not see her from here). "What do you do now if you don't have a body to return to?"

"I can place my spirit into an object for the time being, until I figure out how to retrieve myself."

"What reason would these psijics have to take you captive? Or to come for your apprentice?"

"I have a history with the psijics. They believe themselves valued counselors, keepers of secrets, and custodians of dangerous magic and relics." Onmund heard himself snort. "They have failed in those last two more times than I can count over the centuries and several times came crying to me for assistance in cleaning up their damned messes. At some point they decided that I, too, was dangerous - and to be truthful, I am, when provoked. They have made several attempts to either bring me to heel beneath their banners or take me captive. I've never meant them any harm and, as I've said, I've often helped them...I don't know what ultimately changed their opinion of me but even now I just want to be left alone. Lesser mages may seek power and control - all I seek is knowledge and answers to existence's greatest mysteries. I am no one's enemy...save for Molag Bal's now, I suppose. The whole reason any of this happened is because I spent ages keeping a relic of his out of the hands of his followers...now that the crown has been destroyed I have nothing tethering me to this region."

"Why did they come for Onmund?"

Onmund heard himself snort. "Why else? He's my apprentice. They likely wanted him there to 'assist' me so they could capture us both at once. And once they had me, while they did not know the extent of what the spell binding us does they DID correctly assume that I could use it to communicate with him -- though I imagine if they'd known exactly what I'm capable of doing with this spell they would have killed me outright and Onmund as well, rather than give me the chance to sever my spirit from my body and escape them."

"And should you leave here - would that remove reason for these psijics to come here?"

His body nodded. "They should have no quarrel with this town. And if they decide otherwise know that I won't let that stand. Whether I choose to remain in this territory or not won't have much impact on how quickly I can get back here if I need to."

Ulfric nodded slowly at this, gaze dropping to the table as he sat there lost in thought. Kestrel seemed content to let the silence stretch on though Onmund could see that Gormir and Nelacar looked uncomfortable.

"--what will you do now? As I have explained to your companions already I cannot shield you from Jarl Korir's decisions. He is still convinced the mages deserve to be executed for their supposed role in this mess, and as for myself I am not certain if I should attempt to change his mind regarding any decisions made about you, master mage."

Onmund heard himself snort again, loudly. "He is hardly in any position to threaten me."

Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure I care for the implications of that."

"Care for them or don't, it's not my problem." Onmund's view of the room shifted slightly as his body stood. "I think it's time I speak to this Korir."

"It may be best to wait. He is still furious that I have kept him barred from this meeting as well as the one earlier."

"I have little time for children playing at governing, Jarl Ulfric. If he can't hold his temper and conduct himself with the dignity of his title then perhaps his people deserve a new leader."

"That is a question for his people to decide." Ulfric stood as well, staring him - them - down. "Know this, mage: I will take you at your word now, but I will show no mercy should you be found to go back on your word."

Onmund's lips curled into a smile. "The feeling is mutual, Jarl. Send Korir in, I will deal with him - and if this turns violent you can rest assured it will not be me that instigates it."

Ulfric nodded, gesturing for the guards around him to follow as he swept out of the room. For a time there was just silence, then Korir all but kicked the door in.

"You! I want you and the-"

Onmund's hand raised and Korir lifted from his feet and accelerated across the room to drop roughly into the chair that Ulfric had just vacated; the spell reminded Onmund of being moved in the exact same manner when he'd first been "adjusting" to his new role as Kestrel's apprentice. It brought him a tiny amount of amusement to see the same magic rendering Korir pale and sputtering, unable to form a coherent sentence for a breath or two.

A ghost of a smile crossed Onmund's face - Onmund could almost picture Kestrel's own features superimposed over his, fangs and all. "Greetings, Jarl Korir. We have much to discuss. I do hope you'll behave yourself."

----------------------------------------------------------

After several hours of getting nowhere Kestrel had threatened to simply bury Winterhold under the mountainside and be done with it and all its inhabitants - something Onmund knew to be an empty threat but it had finally forced the Jarl to compromise, at least a little bit: the mages were free to go but would be killed without question if they returned to Winterhold, and the same held for anyone who supported or showed anything other than contempt and hostility toward them.

At this Gormir had protested the Jarl daring to make opinion an enforceable law; Korir took it as a declaration of treason to the hold and ordered the man banished with the mages. As Onmund had suspected Korir did not hold any of the enthralled guards responsible for their actions -- it was only the mages, the magic users that he'd hated for a lifetime, that he blamed for everything. Kestrel had taken it in stride, brushing aside the obvious bias and assuring him that Winterhold would not have magical worries "of any kind" as she led the others out into the storm and toward the College.

The only people outside now were the guards that were still holding their posts; Kestrel swept by them with hardly a look, marching across the bridge to the courtyard where she destroyed the stone jail cell without even breaking pace and leaving the men and women there to sort themselves out. Inside the College the mages were lined along the wall, bound and gagged and with eight feet of space between each of them.

In here were ten guards and two volunteers from the town; when "Onmund" stalked into the room the nearest ones had all reached for weapons before realizing Gormir was at his shoulder.

"Stand down - leave. All of you. It's over." Gormir's tone was sharp and abrupt, and seemed to surprise everyone there even as it immediately drew their attention to him.

"Over?" a woman nearby repeated - she wore the garb of a guard. "Then what's-"

Gormir moved over to her and nearly pressed the front of his helm against hers. "I said, leave. Now."

The woman pulled back in surprise but took a few hesitant steps toward the door; Gormir planted his feet and stared down the remaining men and women there. They all slowly moved from the mages and then filed out in silence. Once they were gone Gormir reached up and tugged his helm off, then hurled it across the room.

Onmund felt a pang of guilt as he looked the man over - Gormir was gray-haired, his beard thick and braided with what looked like brass beads woven into the hair. He was scarred, thick jawed, and was even missing a small chunk of his right ear -- this man was rough, worn, and based on his age Onmund guessed that he'd probably lived in Winterhold all his life, fighting for and protecting its inhabitants for years. And now he was being thrown out, with them...all because he'd spoken out against his Jarl's injustice and unfairness.

Onmund's hand reached up and moved him from his shoulder to just over his own sternum, giving him a view of the mages ahead of him but hiding Gormir from view. "Listen well - Korir is banishing us from Winterhold. We are permitted to take only what will fill the wagon he is providing. We will regroup at Saarthal and plan our futures there - what is required of you now is swift packing and an understanding that I will answer your questions once we're somewhere safe."

Saarthal... It seemed like Kestrel was going to lead them to her home. It'd definitely be the safest place for them all right now though there wasn't really room for everyone. But, if they were to plan for the future, and now that there wasn't a reason to remain hiding, they probably wouldn't stay there for long.

The size of Kestrel's library came to mind then, and he inwardly groaned as he thought about having to move all those books...

Gormir helped cut the ropes and remove the gags; once the mages were free they'd clustered around Onmund, or who they thought was Onmund, and Kestrel had stubbornly refused to say or offer anything further than "shut up and go pack" until finally they all scattered, hurrying to try and pack up what they thought couldn't be left behind.

For a moment, as his body turned, Onmund lost sight of Gormir, nor did he hear the man's footsteps following along behind him; as he turned around again he could see Gormir standing near the wall, one arm braced against the windowpane and his head lowered.

"I meant you as well, Gormir."

"And what do I pack, eh? Can't take the city or the people I know with me."

"I would assume you'd at least like some clothing."

"Clothing is replaceable. Home isn't."

Kestrel walked them over to Gormir, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry you have to suffer this disappointment - not all leaders are wise, and not all wise men end up leaders. Sometimes you simply get someone too fixated on their own nonsense who still manages to fool enough people to place themselves in power. This city, and this-" his hand reached out to tug at the leather straps that held the guard's armor on "-may feel as familiar as skin and you may feel deeply attached to what it means, or meant, to you. Don't. You don't need a guard's uniform to be a good man, and you don't need a hold to guard to satisfy a desire to protect."

He swatted the hand away. "And what would you know of that?"

"I've been alive since before the second era," Onmund heard himself say dryly. "I think I know a thing or two about watching symbols and places and people fade away. There is a delicate line to walk between holding on to who and what you are, and holding on to a time that has passed. Your time here is passing but you will remain the same man with the same memories as before."

Gormir stared at her - him - for a long time, then shook his head. "I can't even see myself being anywhere but here. Where are we even to go? What place could a simple man have among a bunch of magic users?"

Onmund's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "First we'll return to my home, and then find a new home elsewhere that can accommodate all of us. Give it some time and you'll have an entire new hold to keep an eye on."

"Pah. We can't just build our own hold somewhere; there's not a Jarl who would accept that, especially not if Korir runs his mouth - he might poison all of Skyrim against us."

"Sounds like we'd need a man who was present and isn't a mage, and thus has no stake in protecting us, to make sure the correct story is told." Gormir's response was a heavy sigh, and again Onmund's body moved so he couldn't see the man. "Go pack, Gormir."

"If that was an attempt to make me feel any better about this-"

"-there are times where the truth doesn't make anyone feel any better, regardless of what side of the truth you may be standing on. All I can do is point out that despite how you feel now you're the one on the correct side of it." Onmund watched as Kestrel walked them toward the door, only to pause right before it and shift enough that he knew they were looking back over their shoulder. "And besides - we do have at least ONE Jarl who knows what happened here, and that Jarl is currently trying to become king. Depending on how history works itself out the truth may come knocking on Korir's door and he won't like what it has to say to him."

With that they left, heading back out into the courtyard. Kestrel paused at the stone base where, until recently, the statue of a mage had stood; Onmund recalled how it had been shattered, and shortly afterward how the daedroth had come after him, and felt his spirit shiver a bit at the memory -- he hoped he never had to face one of those things again, ever.

Kestrel rubbed his hands together and Onmund felt magicka shift in both his body and in the air as whatever she silently casted made his hands glow. She began to trace patterns around the ruined statue's base, fingers cutting through the stone like a blade through fabric; his body made one full circle of the base before stopping to carefully deposit his spirit on top of it, giving him a perfect view as Kestrel continued on with her stonemarking.

What is she doing?

Onmund's face lifted to look at him, smiling a bit. "Watch carefully, apprentice -- this isn't how I intended you to learn teleportation circles but I may as well make use of this time to teach. First, we must prepare the foundation - this includes sketching the base of the circle as well as calculating the width and height. See here..."

---------------------------------------

The storm had blown over and it was late at night by the time the wagon Korir had ordered arrived at the College; he watched, perched back on his own shoulder, as the mages carefully packed in crates and satchels full of supplies, books, scrolls, reagents, tools... It was a pathetic fraction of what filled the College and he knew they'd agonized over every choice they'd made and that they were leaving a great deal behind. He suspected this wasn't the end of it, knowing that Kestrel had placed that rune circle in the courtyard, but he couldn't help feeling an encompassing sadness at having to leave the College for good this time.

It was somehow worse than what he'd worked through when he'd been resigned to an eternity underground as Kestrel's apprentice. Maybe eternity was easier to reckon with since there wasn't anything to compare it to and it wasn't easily understood - it was just a nebulous concept to a man who still thought of himself in terms of being mortal, not something that felt permanent or encompassing; he supposed that even though he'd thought he'd come to terms with never returning to the College there must have been some small part of him that'd hoped that someday he'd return here. It still felt like home.

'Now I know exactly how Gormir feels,' he found himself thinking. Even though he'd spent over a year somewhere else...

He was dragged out of his thoughts as Kestrel moved them to the wagon, holding out a hand to Drevis and gesturing for him to bring the bag he was carrying over; when she took hold of it Onmund could hear the soft noise of glass objects clinking together, and watched as his arm rummaged through the bag carefully until it pulled out a jar of frost salts before handing the bag back to Drevis with an appreciative nod.

With the jar in hand Onmund was next turned toward the bridge leading to the College, stopping just before the planks. Behind them Onmund could hear shouting and approaching footsteps as his fingers dug into the frigid salts within the jar.

"Stop! What are you doing!?"

"Stop right there, mage!"

That last voice was Korir's.

Kestrel gestured behind them and Onmund felt the magicka in him shift and release, and his spirit turned around to see a rough and towering barrier of snow and rock forming with a thunderous crackling noise that blocked the Jarl and the guards from stepping foot onto the bridge; there were a few failed attempts to climb over or around it and a lot of pounding and shouting, all of which Kestrel ignored as she took a handful of the salts and threw them into the air where they hung, glittering and bobbing gently in the breeze. His palm pressed against some invisible, flat surface, and then slid rapidly to the left and then directly up - almost like he was polishing whatever it was in front of his body. The frost salts began to glow and expand outward into geometric shapes, growing larger and larger; now Kestrel hurled the entire jar of frost salts against the shapes and uttered a few words that made Onmund's spirit shake as a cold chill raced through him.

The jar shattered and the salts inside it slid along whatever invisible barrier was forming beneath the shapes; the air crackled and ice formed, rapidly racing around, up, and below, wrapping the entire College in a thickening globe of ice that immediately lowered the temperature near it to the point Onmund's body was shivering violently as they turned to walk back across the bridge. Right before reaching the stone barricade Kestrel dug fingers into the stone archway and stomped the ground; from Onmund's fingers and where his heel struck a shockwave spread out and shook the bridge apart, sending the planks and remaining stone tumbling to the beach far below (which, considering the damage from the Collapse and then the daedroth it wasn't too difficult a task to force the rest of the stone to break apart and fall).

Only then did she demolish the barrier and followed it by shoving all the guards and Korir back from them, fixing Korir with a stare.

"I hope you didn't intend to both drive us away and also steal what you've forced us to leave behind, Jarl. Let's not add theft to your ever growing list of questionable decisions."

"You damned mage -- Winterhold could have made use of that fortress for our own defenses!"

"I suppose you'll have to build your own," came the flippant reply. "You are, after all, banishing a large part of your defenses as it is."

Korir's face went a deep red and he turned to the guards around him. "Seize them - ALL of them."

Several guards drew their weapons and advanced a few steps; Gormir hurried forward with his hands outstretched. "NO - stand down. We've all suffered enough and I won't stand to see my Jarl lower himself into the mud for his own damned pride!" The few men that had moved to follow Korir's order actually paused at Gormir's outburst; Korir fixed Gormir with a murderous glare but before he could say anything else Gormir jabbed a finger in the air toward him, glaring just as intently back at the man. "Save what honor you've got left, Jarl, and go back to your hall. While you've still got one, anyway. Without the College there's no reason for anyone to come this far north -- you won't need a fortress to defend an empty city, and I won't stand to see you stoop so low as to drive innocent folks out of their home so you can claim their belongings for yourself. What would you even do with it? Divines know you can't likely use it. Sell it? No amount of gold will save Winterhold now. This city dies with the exile of the mages."

Gormir huffed several deep breaths through his nose (it briefly made Onmund picture a bull ready to charge) then turned to let his gaze roam over the guards and the few townsfolk left that had bothered to come "see" the mages off. He seemed poised to say more but finally just grunted in distaste and stomped back to the wagon and hoisted himself up to the bench in front.

Onmund could see a small smirk crossing his own face -- he supposed Gormir's speech was a lot better than Kestrel threatening to bury the town again, and Gormir was right: even if they'd left everything for Korir to claim, what could the man do with it? The only persons who would be interested in it would be...mages, maybe alchemists. He really couldn't see Korir dealing with mages even if it was in the name of raising funds to keep Winterhold afloat, and it'd probably be more trouble than it was worth to try and transport goods elsewhere to sell. Winterhold really had depended on the patronage of those that came to do business with the College and with them gone...

Korir would have to live with the consequences of his decision, just like Jarl Ulfric had said.

Onmund's hand gestured and the mages gathered around the wagon. "-are we ready?"

"Of course not. But do we truly have a choice?" Nirya sounded bitter.

"We have plenty of choices - I am merely choosing the least violent one," Kestrel replied. She walked his body around to the front of the wagon and gave Gormir a nod. "I suggest we leave before anyone else gets any ideas."

Gormir flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward as the sole horse began to move (it was Nelacar's mount; Onmund wondered where the horse he'd ridden had disappeared to - maybe Quaranir had retrieved it though Onmund doubted he would have bothered). There was no fanfare, no hurled curses their way -- just the silence of a city watching them leave and the faint whisper of pines moving in the wind.

For most of their walk there wasn't much talk; Kestrel carefully explained, in broad terms, how she was actually possessing Onmund and that Onmund himself was perfectly fine -- the others had seemed both surprised at the spellplay at work and a few had admitted that they'd thought Onmund hadn't seemed himself when he'd arrived at the College to set them free. Kestrel was content to let them think they'd figured it all out ahead of time and went quiet as the others chattered amongst themselves; they were nearing the break in the mountains where they'd need to turn to head down the trail to Saarthal when J'zargo cleared his throat.

"At the risk of sounding ungrateful, this one wonders how we can possibly live within a crumbling ruin."

"My home is under it - we are merely walking through Saarthal to get there. Ordinarily I would open a portal but the wagon won't fit."

How are WE all going to fit?

Onmund's lips curled into a smile. "Well, apprentice - it would seem that after I've deposited myself somewhere secure, you will need to either start digging or teach the others so they can help you. Now that the crown is gone we won't need to stay there long but we WILL need the space to fully empty the College of all that's in there, and I'm sure we can all survive a night or two sleeping in the floor."

Phinis shuffled up beside them. "What do you mean "empty"? What have you prepared?"

"I left a rune circle behind so we can portal in and out. The spell that wraps the place in ice will last a month, possibly two depending on how the weather holds. Let Korir have his pyrrhic victory - by the time he can get into the College I intend for him to only inherit cobwebs and the contents of the latrines."

At that Urag began laughing; the laughter was loud and rough and Onmund wasn't sure he'd ever heard the orc laugh before now. "I like it. Serves the bastard right."

"Do you really think he won't change his mind and kill the guards involved?" Nirya asked quietly - from the sounds of it she was somewhere behind and to Onmund's right.

Gormir grunted and spat from the front of the wagon. "If he tries it he'll have one hell of a fight on his hands. I know those men and women - they won't go down quietly even if their Jarl demands it."

"I don't care for the fact we are letting Korir win, pyrrhic victory or not," Sergius grumbled. "As much as the College did for Winterhold..."

"And what do you suggest we do, Sergius? Go back and force them into a confrontation?" Drevis snorted. "I don't much care for this particular ending to the College's history but at least let records show that we left with dignity and without bloodshed."

"But what are we to do now?" Enthir broke in. "I don't intend to stay in a hole in the ground or a crumbling ruin, nor do I think we'd be welcomed into any other hold considering what's happened. Knowing Korir he won't rest until all the Jarls hear his version of our supposed assault on his hold."

Onmund's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "We shall discuss that when we're indoors and sorted - none of you need to remain with me if you don't want to. For now let's prioritize getting me out of Onmund's body, getting your belongings out of the College, and getting short-term food and lodging sorted. ...I suppose you could, instead of digging anew, expand off the spider's dwelling, Onmund. It would be less work on you and there would be a guardian available that doesn't require sleep."

"...spider's dwelling?" Nirya repeated, sounding somewhat dismayed.

"It's a-- ugh. I'll explain when we get there. It'll be easier to show it than try to explain it." Kestrel - meaning, Onmund's body - sounded weary. "We are nearly there. Gormir - may I ask that you take whoever you choose and attempt to hunt something for your meal tonight? Onmund and I do not require anything so hunt and gather enough to feed the rest of yourselves."

Onmund heard Brelyna quickly quipping a "don't ask" after Kestrel had fallen silent. The rest of their walk to Saarthal was quiet; once they'd arrived Kestrel directed the others to bring the wagon's contents inside the ruins and to store them further back toward the wall with the dragon carving. Being as Gormir and whoever he took with him would need to get down into the hideaway with the others Kestrel rebuilt the staircase descending down into the home, detouring only to introduce them to the spider (Nirya wasn't pleased at first but seemed placated when she learned it was a construct and not an actual living spider). She offered them a quick explanation then of what doorways led to what room (and told them that in no uncertain terms her own room was strictly off-limits to everyone but herself and Onmund) and then left them to poke around or go hunt or read or whatever they wanted to do while she walked Onmund into the little armory room and looked around.

"Let's see, which shelf did I... Aha, there we are."

Onmund's knees cracked as he squatted on his heels, his hands reaching out for a small lock box that looked to be made of plain iron and sky blue glass; whatever was inside it rattled gently as his body straightened and walked into Kestrel's room, locking the door behind them. The box was carefully sat upon the scrying table and then Kestrel moved them over to the wardrobe (it was only know that Onmund noticed scorch marks on it - likely from when Varea had led the others down here to steal the crown) where, in the pocket of a rather plain tunic hanging amongst other clothing (that Onmund had never seen her wear) she retrieved a key.

The key opened the lock on the box and the lid tipped open on well-greased hinges to reveal a box of strangely colored soul stones -- most of them were as black as obsidian and comfortably reminded him of the same material that had made up the crown.

"This is definitely not how I wanted us to progress into necromancy but considering the circumstances we have little choice."

Necromancy? I don't want to be a necromancer of any kind.

"I know the stigma regarding this particular type of magic but it too is ultimately just a tool. There are actually quite a few practical uses for necromancy and, as you'll eventually learn, the best way to stop others from misusing it is knowing intimately how it functions. These-"

His hand reached in and pulled out a jagged soul stone the length of his palm and about three fingers wide at its widest point. "-will be combined with a bit of complicated alteration, and will serve as my home for the time being."

...do you really think we can retrieve your body, somehow?

Kestrel was silent for a long moment as she once again went to the wardrobe and removed what looked like a small jewelry box from the long drawer that made up the floor of the wardrobe. "--in a perfect world, yes, I think we could. But the world is rarely perfect and the Psijics will be expecting that."

So what do we do, then?

"I have a few ideas but it will take quite a bit of planning. This...won't be corrected for quite some time, Onmund."

Oh.

A small smile crossed his face as his hands gently placed the jewelry box next to the box of soul stones. "Don't sound so depressed - you're not the one being made into jewelry."

But I'll be the one fixing you, won't I?

"Of course. Who else could I possibly trust to do so?"

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 21 #Onmund #AU #Kestrel #Brelyna #Nelacar #Ulfric #Korir #Drevis #Phinis #Sergius #Urag gro-Shub #Nirya #Enthir #Gormir #Skyrim

2 notes · View notes

lundiivith · 4 years

Text

untitled (lydia and dovahkiin, one hundred years, dot com)

posted a fic to ao3. it’s mostly plotless nonsense but i’ve been sitting on it for two years so it felt like the right time to post it, lol

it’s a little piece about lydia meeting my dovahkiin. first impressions and all that

read it over there or here, under the cut!

It was far too early in the morning, and Lydia’s life had just changed radically in the span of a few hours. For starters: The Dragonborn was here, and Lydia had been sworn into her service.

...It was dark outside.

“Uh,” the young woman said, once outside Dragonsreach. She stared at Lydia, blinked once, owlishly. “I don’t have a house. I hope that’s not a problem.” She enunciated the syllables carefully. Her voice was a little rough. Almost as if she had a sore throat, or as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“We could stay at the Bannered Mare, my thane,” Lydia told her. She felt a little odd. She’d sworn service to the Jarl - her uncle - some years ago. She’d accepted the offer to become the new thane’s housecarl of her own volition. But the last couple of days had happened so fast, and so many things had happened in them. It felt… surreal. Attacks in Helgen, the court mage receiving strange visitors… a dragon attack nearby, and. This.

Her thane opened her mouth. She closed it and then simply nodded. She began walking towards the stairs. Lydia followed her after a moment, a couple paces back. Her thane… she didn’t know her thane’s name yet.

She had white hair, done up in some sort of knot. It looked as if she’d tied it up the best she could while busy, so it didn’t get in her face. Loose strands fell out of her updo and framed her face. Her ears were slightly pointed, and her eyes were pitch-black all over, like some elves’. She had freckles covering her entire face. She didn’t quite look like an elf, not did she quite look like a Nord. Lydia’s new thane was smaller than her, shorter and skinnier too.

She wore cheap-looking leathers and ragged, worn clothing. At her hip hung an ancient-looking black sword. Its edge was uneven, maybe recently sharpened. Slung onto her back, a quiver with a few arrows and a bow.

They got to the Bannered Mare after a couple minutes of silent walking. The sun was rising. Pink clouds crossed the sky, and the first stirrings of life in the morning could be seen. A group of Companions came back to Jorrvaskr; they looked bruised and hungover.

Lydia had only been woken up recently, right before dawn. She knew her thane had been awake for longer. Especially, Lydia thought, with her tendency to stretch and yawn while she walked. The way she did it — and Lydia noticed she was musing at this point, filling her bored mind with description if only to ground herself in what would soon become her new life, what already had become her new life, and also, a little bit, to entertain herself —, the way her Thane did it reminded Lydia, in a strange way, of the few khajiit she’d seen in her life. Lydia hadn’t traveled much, but she remembered a few years back when a khajiiti merchant came into town proper. One day she’d seen him stretch. She’d thought for a moment he was purposefully dislocating his own arms. He hadn’t been, of course, but. And that was the same exact feeling the… she was the Dragonborn, Lydia had to keep reminding herself, the same exact feeling the Dragonborn gave her as she moved. Graceful but a little worrying. Claws and fangs in plain view.

A wooden squeak. The inn’s doors needed oiling. The Bannered Mare’s fire was mere embers at this hour, a half-asleep Redguard woman manning the place. Her thane spoke with her, gave her fifteen septims for a two-person room. She showed them to their room and went back down.

The room had two beds. They had white bedclothes. Furs were strewn on top. Two chests, each at one of the beds’ feet.

The Dragonborn sat on one of the beds. “So,” she said.

“So,” echoed Lydia, standing by the door. There was a pause. “My thane. I don’t know your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she muttered, surprised. “I don’t think I have one.”

“I… don’t understand?”

“I don’t know who I am. I apologize.” Her thane smiled, apologetic. Under Lydia’s confused look, her smile crumbled. “I don’t… remember.”

“What do you remember?” The sunshine coming in through the tiny window had changed colors during the time they’d been inside. The day was a sleepy blueish-gray.

“Not much.” The Dragonborn looked down. “I remember… a forest, shakily. Running from some soldiers. There was something I needed to do, but I feel… as if it doesn’t matter now. Or as if I’ve already done it. As if it was done, now. Isn’t it strange?” She looked up at Lydia, a wobbly smile on her face. Lydia nodded, a small smile on her face. The Dragonborn is so… small, she thought.

“In any case,” the Dragonborn continued, breaking eye contact, “I don’t remember any names. After that vague memory, I just woke up being carted away to be executed.” Lydia’s back straightened in surprise. “Oh, I haven’t told you how I ended up in Helgen yet, huh? I forget not everyone knows, uhm... what I know.” She snorted. “Do you want the short version?”

“It would be my pleasure, my thane.” A little sarcasm seeped in, but the Dragonborn didn’t seem to notice.

“I woke up in a cart, alongside a horse thief, a few Stormcloaks and Ulfric Stormcloak himself,” the Dragonborn begun, amused. Lydia raised her eyebrows. Sure, that had happened. “We made a line. They executed a Stormcloak. The horse-thief ran away, he was shot by an arrow…”, and she was counting these off on her fingers, “then it was my turn. And then the dragon came.” She shrugged. “Those are my first clear memories. Um,” she bit her lip for a moment, “after that, the Stormcloaks and the Imperial soldiers both ran away. I ended up joining a lone Imperial soldier that made his way through some catacombs… Hadvar, maybe?”

Her thane’s voice was a little slurred. She’d taken off her shoes at some point. She pulled her legs on top of the bed, dragged herself back to lean against the headboard. “We went to his uncle’s house in a small town nearby. I ate lunch and dinner there, and after dinner I made my way to Whiterun. I was here, hm… a bit past midnight, maybe. I caught the Jarl sleep-deprived.” She giggled. Lydia nodded. “He sent me to his insomniac wizard, who sent me to a cavern near the town I started at. To find a rock. I crashed on the streets of the Cloud District, under the tree, got woken up by a child asking for coin. I gave her some.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “We talked a bit. Her name’s Lucia.”

“I’ve seen her,” Lydia said, quietly. She’d appeared only a couple of months ago. It was sad to see a child begging on the streets like this, but she didn’t know what she could do.

The Dragonborn paused. Internally wording something. “I bought Lucia a night at the Bannered Mare,” she said after a bit, hesitant. There was a pause before she continued.

“Um… where was I?”

“You were sent to some caverns?”

“Oh, yes. An old Nordic tomb. I fought…” and her thane yawned, “a lot of… corpse men…?”

“Draugr?”

“Draugr, yes, thank you… There was a glowing wall, at the end. And a very... big draugr. I took his sword. In his tomb, there was the rock I was sent to retrieve.” A silence. “The glowing wall spoke to me,” she added, impulsively.

“What words of wisdom did it give you?” A lot more sarcasm seeped into that one.

The Dragonborn very deliberately pointed her chin up wards, staring at the ceiling. “Fᴜs,” she whispered. Lydia shivered. Goosebumps went up and down her arms. Had some sort of sudden, chilly breeze gotten into the room? She grasped her right arm with her left hand.

The Dragonborn grinned at her when she noticed this. She still acted sleepily. “Magical words,” she told Lydia. Lydia… she’d never been much of a folklorist. Any Nord knew the story of the Dragonborn, but the details were fuzzy in her memory. She accepted it as part of the deal. Magical words. Sure.

After a moment, the Dragonborn kept going. “After that, I got a room at the town’s inn. I actually reached the town around maybe two in the morning? I was surprised the inn was still open. I got a room, the woman manning the inn looked at me strangely. I slept in until the afternoon, then I ate and left for Whiterun. Reached the castle around nine in the afternoon yesterday, got told a huge dragon had appeared nearby. You know the rest of the story.” She yawned again.

“You should rest, my thane.”

“Ah… I wonder if I’ll be nocturnal the rest of my life,” the Dragonborn wondered. She got under the covers as Lydia walked over to the other bed and sat down. The Dragonborn turned around to look at her housecarl.

“Good night, Lydia,” she said, softly.

“Good morning, you mean.” Lydia really couldn’t help herself.

“I do. Thank you… Good morning, Lydia.”

She fell asleep almost instantly.

The Dragonborn woke up around noon, demanding food. Lydia ate with her.

“We’ll need to leave for High Hrothgar,” her thane told Lydia over lunch. “We could leave tomorrow morning. You’ll say goodbye to your friends, I’ll say hello to a few friends I think I made when I first came here.”

“I’ve already said goodbye to all my friends here, my thane.” Technically true; Lydia didn’t have friends in Whiterun. Hadn’t in quite some time. The Dragonborn looked at her and nodded after a second.

“All right.” She finished her roasted vegetables and got up. She offered Lydia a hand. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I am sworn to do just so, my thane,” Lydia told her.

“Great!”

They paid the innkeeper another fifteen septims to rent the room for one more day and then hit the cobblestones. The first thing the Dragonborn did was go to the marketplace.

It was a busy day at the marketplace. The Dragonborn tapped Lydia’s shoulder. “I’ll give you half my money and you can buy some food for the road,” she said. Lydia nodded before receiving what amounted to two handfuls of septims. It wouldn’t be very good food, Lydia thought, but it’d be enough.

She spent about an hour shopping before seeing again her thane. She was holding a variety of items, such as: some better armour, a few changes of clothes, two pairs of new boots, a few books, and two traveling bags.

“I… assumed you didn’t have one,” she said, nervously.

“I did not. Thank you, my thane,” Lydia told her. She picked the biggest traveling bag, and the Dragonborn took the chance to unload on her the clothes and boots and armor. Lydia stared right into her eyes. “I am,” she said, trying to imbibe the statement with all the sarcasm she could muster, “indeed, sworn to carry your burdens.”

The Dragonborn laughed. Lydia did so, too.

They went to the Bannered Mare after a while, to pack up better. The Dragonborn changed into a new pair of pants and shirt, cheap-looking but clean and new, and told Lydia to stay at the room while she talked to a few people she’d met.

She came back around dinnertime. She had a new sword — Skyforge steel, Lydia noticed with a pang of jealousy — and looked grimy and sweaty. Lydia went downstairs while her thane, in their room, washed herself standing up in a bucket. Eventually, the Dragonborn came downstairs and they had dinner together. Lydia learnt that, while she didn’t know her name, knew her background and her age. She was twenty-two — four years younger than Lydia — and apparently a half-elf.

“You’re the first one I’ve seen,” Lydia told her. “I… have to admit, I didn’t know they existed.”

“Maybe we don’t,” the Dovahkiin said, distracted, “and I’m just some kind of magical accident.” She blushed furiously as she realized she’d actually spoken out loud, and Lydia laughed, hard.

They arrived at Ivarstead, the town at the bottom of the mountain, after a few days’ travel. They circled around the mountain, going north. Her Thane had, apparently, been hired to kill some bandits by her “friends”. (She’d clarified over dinner to Lydia they were, in fact, the Companions, and that she was working on joining them. Her “why” had basically been “I need friends and training”; good enough, Lydia guessed.).

During the trek to the mountain, they ended up passing by Morthal. They spent only one night there, but the town still managed to unnerve Lydia. Her thane resolved to pass by it again sometime later. She felt like something was going on, could “practically smell it” (direct quote), but they didn’t have time to do anything.

In the end, the duo arrived in Ivarstead at night. They rented a two-person room at the inn and ate dinner there. The Dragonborn talked to everyone she found. She’d decided they’d be staying for a while. Lydia thought it ought to be boring to stay for more than one day in a town such as this, but she wasn’t the one calling the shots, so she guessed it was out of her hands. She let her thoughts slip, though, and the way she phrased it made the Dragonborn snort and cough up her water.

After breakfast the next morning, they began their trek. No sooner had they passed the bridge that they found a man who couldn’t carry a bag of food and other such supplies to the Greybeards. Her thane promised to help, and she was given the supplies, and they carried on, but—

—after walking for some time, it was obvious she struggled under its weight, combined with her own bag. Lydia stopped in her tracks and her thane stopped with her.

“My thane, you do remember I am sworn to carry your burdens, right?” Lydia asked her. She put her hands on top of the bag.

“Oh,” the Dragonborn said. “Thank you, Lydia.”

During the trek, they took turns carrying the bag. The Dragonborn made sure to speak with the two or three pilgrims she found. She seemed to really want to talk to them further, but they didn’t have much else to say, so they carried on. She also took the time to read the etched tablets. Lydia mostly tuned her clumsy reading out through their trip.

After a while, the path went through two tall outcroppings of rock. Lydia’s turn carrying the bag ended, and she gave it to the Dragonborn. They kept walking.

There was a roar.

A frost troll. Lydia’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of the Dragonborn’s (new, handmade) fur cloak and ran like the winds.

Fᴜs,

she heard from behind her. A booming noise resonated behind her, sending the troll flying backwards. A sudden gust of wind pushed Lydia forward. They reached the edge of the little plateau, where the stone steps became discernible again, and the Dragonborn gave Lydia her bow.

“I’ve got fire magic! You shoot it!” she told her. Lydia drew the bow, a little shakily. She was no expert, but she knew enough. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her thane’s hands begin glowing. The troll came back, like a stampede, and the two women split up, moving opposite to each other, shooting it again and again. The troll was confused for a moment. Lydia, stupidly, chose that exact moment to shoot it one more time. It roared and ran towards her, and Lydia knelt, and it reached her, got his enormous claws so close to her —

— until a white-hot sword tip carved through its ribs. The troll tried to turn around, to see what exactly had stabbed it, and Lydia took the moment to grab a dagger she’d hung from her waist and stab its neck. That finished it off.

The troll fell to the ground with a dull thump. The Dragonborn was forced to kneel as it fell, since her sword was still stuck through its ribs. And still white-hot, Lydia noticed. Her thane’s hands glowed. She didn’t seem bothered by the heat.

“...How?” Lydia asked.

The Dragonborn panted. “What?”

“You’re going to melt your sword, my thane!”

“Fuck!” She pulled it out and dropped it on the floor in one swift motion. It sizzled, a little deformed by the experience.

They both looked around for the bag. The Dragonborn found it first, and pointed at it; she’d dropped it while they ran. When she came back with it, Lydia was still on her knees. Her thane offered her her free hand. Lydia held it thankfully, helping herself stand up.

“How did you not burn yourself with the sword?” Lydia asked.

“Oh,” the Dragonborn replied, distracted. “I think the heat doesn’t hate me. I grabbed a red-hot coal a few days ago, and I was fine...”

“A fine theory, my thane. Should we keep walking?”

“...Let’s wait a second and then continue.”

And behind the Dragonborn, High Hrothgar stood, as gray as its inhabitants — and holding behind its great doors their future.

#words #skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes #dove #lydia #oh you know.

2 notes · View notes

letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

Text

Petals for Armor || Ariana & Luce

TIMING: Prior to Bea’s ressurection PARTIES: @divineluce & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes by the shop when Luce happens to have a cancellation. A new tattoo is gifted and the girls get to talk. CONTENT: Some sibling death mentions and general descriptions of tattooing (needles and blood)

“You can take the wrap off in the next two or three hours. No pools, hot tubs, or swimming for the next two weeks.” Luce said as she escorted her latest client out, handing them a little bag of Aquaphor and printed out aftercare instructions. They’d gotten a geometric calf piece that, any other time, would have made her really excited to work. But, her nerves were still raw from her experience with Felix and she felt frayed at the edges, like she might just unravel. Which is why she was throwing herself into the more menial aspects of her work-- she cleaned up her room with even more vigor than usual before returning to the lobby to look at her bookings for the day. As she looked at the screen, the bell over the door dinged as someone walked inside. Fuck. Her 4 o clock had rescheduled. Which meant she had nothing to do for the rest of the day. Her cabin was all repaired and she wasn’t… she didn’t want to go back to Bea’s house. Not yet. Not until she was back. Not until all three of them could walk through that door together. Realizing she’d been lost in thought, Luce forced a smile and looked up from the computer. “Welcome to Ink, Inc. Do you have an appointment or are you here for a walk-in?”

After a couple of weeks off from training under Shiloh at Trusty Wood, Ariana found it felt better to be back again. There was a lot less time to get stuck in her own head when she was busy soaking up all that Shiloh could possibly teach her. As heavy as things felt some days, she knew she had to keep pushing forward. It’s what Celeste would have wanted and she still wanted to be someone Celeste could be proud of. It was all she could do to keep part of her alive. Things were slowly getting easier, she still let herself feel her way through the waves. She still found she preferred to not go back to the trailer alone after work today and Ulf had said he wouldn’t be too much later. She could hang out at the shop a bit, look through some of his newer sketches and watch videos on Tik Tok while she waited. Her air pods had still been in her ears as she walked through the door, but she could still hear a familiar voice over the music, so she took a bud out. She smiled when she realized it was Luce though a wince followed shortly after. She wondered if Ulfric had mentioned what happened to Luce. The last thing she needed right now was questions about her hot sister. She quickly recovered and waved, “Hey, Luce. Not here for an appointment or anything. Ulf had said he’d be done for the day soon, so figured I’d hang around a bit so I don’t have to walk home.”

Looking up, Luce’s expression faltered for a moment as she saw Ariana waving at her. Fuck. Fuck. “Ariana. Hey,” She looked down at the computer and grimaced. Ulf was still in his appointment, but that meant that Ariana was going to be stuck waiting around for a little bit. The night Ulfric had told her what had happened to Celeste, Luce had been… floored. Her heart had broken for Ariana, for what she was going through-- she understood the pain of losing a sister, of the cruel reality of death. But, unlike Ariana… She could bring Bea back. She was actively working towards it. And while it would take sacrifice and magic Luce had never thought she would ever degrade herself to doing, here she was. Preparing to murder a man. Swallowing, Luce stepped out from behind the counter and leaned against the receptionist’s desk. She clenched her jaw for a moment before glancing at the clock. “You need a ride? My next appointment bailed on me, so I can give you a lift if you want.” She said with a shrug, tilting her head out to the 4x4 that was parked out back behind Ink Inc.

While a ride sounded better than waiting around the shop for Ulfric to finish with his appointment, Ariana perked up at the mention of her appointment bailing on her. With her first tattoo, she found she kind of liked the sensation of the needle and it’s constant buzzing. She liked the finished product even more. More often than not, she’d find herself admiring her own tattoo literally any time she wore shorts short enough to show it off. As fun as the 4x4 looked, a new tattoo sounded even more fun. “Thanks,” she said, a small smile present, “A ride would be cool, but taking your appointment’s place actually sounds even better. I’ve been kind of wanting another tattoo anyway.” She looked to Luce hopefully. She totally understood if she preferred to go home as planned, but it was worth a shot. “If you’re ready to head out, that’s totally cool, too.”

At Ariana’s words, Luce nodded. A ride, a tattoo? Fuck, if the girl had asked for one of the art pieces off the wall, she would have given it to her. “Sure, no problem. You got any ideas that you’re thinking about? Or do you wanna take a look through some of the designs I already have? C’mon, we can chat in my room.” She said, walking back to her workspace and grabbing the binder full of stencils and designs that she carefully curated. While her designs lately hadn’t been the most inspired or the ones that she liked the most, she’d done well to make sure that she kept a wide selection for people to look through. And, for the most part, people seemed to like them. Geometric tattoos and floral patterns, blackwork and animals, neo-traditional, those designs were pretty well received amongst the others. “You can check this out to get an idea of my style and talk me through what you’re thinking.” She handed over the binder before settling down in front of her laptop.

Being genuinely excited for something after weeks of feeling like life was a haze was a welcomed feeling. Ariana eagerly followed Luce to her room in the shop and answered, “I was thinking of doing some wildflowers in black ink. Color ink is kind of lost on me because color blind and all. I’d love to look through some of your designs though!” There was a hint of sadness at the mention of wildflowers and she decided to not explain her choice. Maybe she should have told Luce about what happened so she didn’t think Celeste ghosted her or something, but as many times as she already had to say it, she didn’t find it getting any easier. It still felt like a kick to the gut every freaking time. She thumbed through the pages of the binder and found she enjoyed Luce’s style. A lot of the floral patterns seemed to fit perfectly for what she wanted, but one in particular reminded her of a hike with Celeste. The shapes of the flowers and how the flowed across the page reminded her of the ones that grew around Dog Mountain in Washington. She’d suggested the spot for hiking based on the name of the mountain alone, but she could still remember the beaming smile on Celeste’s face as they ventured into a clearing that was filled with flowers as if it was yesterday. It was hard to think that was nearly six years ago and they’d never share another hike like that again. She looked a bit more wistful as she looked back to Luce, holding the binder up and pointing, “I like these. They remind me of--,” she started, ready to say Celeste but quickly cut herself off and said, “One of my favorite hikes.”

“Well, you’ve got the right artist for that. I prefer to do black and white tattoos in general.” Luce nodded as she gestured to a couple of the charcoal art pieces on the wall, the stencils in the binder, and the larger designs she’d tacked up to her corkboard. While she waited for Ariana to make her selection, Luce set to work prepping her workstation. Even if nothing caught Ariana’s eye, there was nothing wrong with wiping down the chair, making sure the drawers of her tool chest were neatly organized. It was just good practice. When Ariana held up the binder, showing her the delicate wildflower patterns, Luce nodded with an approving grin. “Where are you thinking of putting it? So I can size up the pattern for you. And would you want to add anything else to it? I’ve got plenty of time, I can make a couple small tweaks if you’d like.” She said as she opened up the stencil on her computer. She heard the slight falter in the girl’s tone, the way she paused. A part of her suspected that… no-- she wasn’t going to pry. Not about the death of a sister. “Nice. Where’d you go hiking?” She asked conversationally.

“Why am I not surprised that the artists here are werewolf friendly,” Ariana joked before admiring the charcoal pieces on the wall. She enjoyed Luce’s style. Art that wasn’t filled with lots of color was a lot easier for her to process and make sense of. Plus, it was totally an aesthetic. She took a moment to think over where she’d like to put it. Since this one didn’t scream I’m a werewolf, she wanted it somewhere more visible. She scanned over her arms and answered, “My left forearm. I think that’d work nicely. I want to be able to just look down and see it whenever I want to. I’m always bummed when I wear pants because I can’t see my wolf tattoo.” She briefly considered adding something specific to Celeste on there, but ultimately decided against it. The design as it was was already perfect and a subtle nod to her sister. “I’d like to keep the design as it is, but thanks.” Luce was being really nice, noting she had plenty of time to customize it however she wanted. There was even something more gentle about her than normal that Ariana couldn’t quite place, but she figured Ulfric must have told her. That would explain it. It didn’t make her feel too inclined to talk about it just yet. Instead, she focused on the happy memory with a fond smile that slightly deflected from her sad and tired eyes. “Lots of places, but these flowers remind me of the ones Celeste and I saw on a hike through Dog Mountain in Washington. There was this one clearing that was just filled with them. I swear you’d think Celeste had just won the lotto or something with how happy she looked.” The dull ache that came with remembering Celeste was present. Still, it felt better to keep her memory alive than to simply let it fade away with her.

Letting out a wry laugh, Luce shrugged, “Werewolf friendly businesses are few and far between in this town, we gotta maintain our reputation as a safe space for all. Besides, a happy boss means a happy me.” She said as she pulled up the stencil. With a cursory glance over at Ariana’s arm where she directed her, Luce nodded, mentally sizing up the area. Shrinking it down a little, she printed out the design before holding it up to the girl’s arm. Needed to be a bit smaller “I get that. I like my leg tattoos a lot, but yeah, they don’t spend as much time in the spotlight as my others.” She said. Under her black shorts, fishnet tights made criss crossed patterns over the tattoos on her legs, obscuring them slightly from view. That’s what happened when you had an aesthetic and stuck to it. As Ariana mentioned Celeste by name, Luce kept her face neutral. She couldn’t help the twist in her stomach at the thought of the woman, someone she’d only briefly known but was Ariana’s whole world. “Yeah. You see a lot of these in the Pacific Northwest. Not that I’ve ever been there, but I like the flowers that grow there.” She said with a nod as she went back to her computer and adjusted the stencil so it was just the right size. “Alright. You ready for this?” She asked, gesturing for the girl to take a seat in her chair.

Ariana knew she one day wanted both her arms to be covered in tattoos though she hadn’t gotten as far as what all she wanted. She kind of figured she liked enough of Ulfric’s random sketches that she could just point something out she thought was cool and he could just tattoo it on her. It didn’t need some special meaning. It being the art of someone she cared about was enough meaning for her. Plus, doing things just for aesthetic reasons were fun. It was her body. She didn’t need to justify her tattoo choices to literally anyone. Hell, she had half a mind to get the stupid tattoos her and Nell were joking about getting. Those would be more fun to get together anyway. With a small laugh, she mused, “Listen, your arms and legs are both goals.” She took a seat in the chair as directed and swallowed back a bit of the giddy energy that was building up inside her. She tried to position her arm so it was easy for Luce to work with and said, “Oh, I’m so ready. I’ve been dying to get another tattoo since I got my first one.” She kept still as she spoke, not wanting to mess up the outline Luce was preparing for her. “I liked the Pacific Northwest a lot. There’s a lot of places to go where it’s just nature which is basically wolf paradise. Do you do a lot of hiking here? I really love all your floral designs.” Focusing on something that wasn’t the Celeste part of the memory was a little easier. Soon, there’d also be the nice dull buzz of the needle to distract from that, too.

At the girl’s words, Luce offered a crooked smile, glancing down at her arms as she pulled on a pair of gloves. “Thanks. I’ve worked on them for the past eight years. Ulf, he did your first one, right?” She said as she wiped down the area and applied the stencil, stepping back to take a look at it. Hm. “He did my first tattoo, this one.” She said, extending her arm to show Ariana the lightbulb and bouquet that decorated the inside of her right forearm. “Fast forward eight years and… well, I caught the bug. So I get that.” With a smile, she redid the stencil a few times until it was lined up, so that the flowers were angled just so. Measure twice, cut once-- it applied to tattoos in a manner of speaking. “Let’s get started.” She said and turned on her machine, the familiar buzzing comforting in her hand. At Ariana’s words, Luce spoke up, “Yeah, there are a lot of good hiking trails around here. Probably can’t compare to Oregon or Washington or anything like that, but they’re solid.” Working on the outlines first, she smiled, “Thanks. Flowers are kind of a family thing.” She said, though the smile faded slightly from her face as she did so. “I had a lot of references around the house when we were growing up.”

Ariana figured it would take her about as long to work up to a tattoo collection that mirrored Luce’s and Ulfric’s. At least she personally knew two awesome artists and was more than happy to support them in any way she could. “Eight years, I’m sure you’re not done yet either,” she scanned over Luce’s arms and smiled at the lightbulb bouquet Ulfric had done on her forearm, “Oh, I love that one. He did do my first one, too. Though it’s unfortunately covered by jeans right now. It’s a big wolf in a nature motif surrounded by the moon phases because clearly I was going for subtle.” She did her best to remain still as Luce applied the stencil, not wanting to mess the artist up by moving around. Already, she loved the design and the placement. It’d be nice to have something she can glance down at more readily and it’d be nice to have another small piece of Celeste to carry around with her. A small pang reminded her of the sadness that seemed to constantly linger these days, but she wanted to keep those memories alive. She wanted to remember and be someone Celeste would still be proud of. Her focus shifted back to Luce. “The hiking here is actually pretty good, at least in the Outskirts. Although I will say, way more dangerous than the pacific northwest, at least the parts I’ve been too. Never saw a hedgehound out there. Or murder mimes. I’m sure you can hold your own out there though,” she mused, still kind of in awe of the whole witch thing. The hum of the tattoo machine soothed her even as the needle hit her skin. It was a dull pain and it served as a good distraction. “Oh yeah, I remember your sisters had a lot of flowers in the house. I actually got Nell a nice little arrangement of succulents since you said she likes plants. She seemed to love it… or at least she hasn’t cancelled our matching face tattoo idea yet.”

“Definitely not.” Luce agreed as she dipped the needles back into the small tub of ink before continuing her steady linework. “There’s a lot more I want to do. But, I also want to save space. Don’t want to fill things up too soon just in case there’s something else I want.” She said. Listening to the girl speak, Luce focused on the tattoo, mentally planning out where she wanted to add the shading around the petals and the leaves. “That’s really cool that he did that for you. And a super solid design. Ulf does good work, he always has.” She nodded. “And yeah, it’s always a good idea to be prepared for any and everything when you’re out in the woods around here. But, what with your wolf situation, I’m sure you can handle yourself.” Luce said. At the mention of Bea’s house, a lump formed in the back of her throat, but she did her best to ignore it. “Mhm. Nell has a whole greenhouse all to herself, full of all kinds of plants. Doesn’t surprise me that she liked the succulents, I don’t know how many of those she has.” She replied before lifting an eyebrow, glancing at Ariana as she wiped some of the excess ink away, “Matching face tattoos, huh?”

“That sounds like a struggle,” Ariana mused with a small grin. Self control had never been her strong suit and her tendency to act on impulse would make it hard for her to save space for new ideas that came up in the future. “That makes sense though. Saving room for new fun things. I still have a lot of room, so I figure I can go a little crazy with it for a bit. Well, as crazy as my wallet will allow anyway.” She kept her breathing slow and steady, focusing on both Luce’s words and the feeling of the needle in her arm. Even the gentle buzzing of the tattoo gun going had a soothing sound to it. “Yeah, I love the piece and I got to meet Ulf… who’s been totally great. Bet he didn’t expect to end up taking care of a teen werewolf, but he’s a pretty good sport about it. At least, I think he likes having me around. He’s working on getting a cabin built for us,” she rambled a bit, which wasn’t normal for her, but she kind of realized that him taking care of her hinted that Celeste wasn’t around anymore. She felt the slight jump her heart made in her chest and nodded, “Oh yeah, it’s hard to sneak up on or fight a wolf.” The greenhouse thing sounded pretty cool. She hoped to get her own garden going once they were settled into the cabin. “That’s so cool. I’ll have to ask her to see it some time. We’re supposed to be sparring soon, which should be fun.” She laughed a bit at the matching tattoo part, “Yep, they’re going to say ‘My Wolves, My Witches, & My Bitches’, but they gotta be like Post Malone style you know. Alternatively, it’s ‘spicy witch shorty’ and ‘shrimpy salsa wolf’ even though Nell is probably the only person who could call me shrimpy and not get punched… Well, and Blanche.”

“Not gonna lie, some days it is. Particularly when I’m surrounded by great artists.” Luce admitted as she filled in the next area. When was the last time she’d just talked about what kind of art she was looking to put on her body? Not since she’d talked to Dot, when the woman had been sitting in this very chair. Months ago. Must have been. But… it was nice. To pretend as though nothing was wrong. As though it was all normal. “Oh yeah, you’re young. You’ve got a lotta time and space.” At the mention of money, Luce kept her mouth shut as she continued to tattoo. The second Ariana had said she wanted a tattoo, Luce knew that she wouldn’t let the girl pay. A gift, in a way, in remembrance for Celeste. It was only the more fitting that the tattoo directly related to the woman. Swallowing, she pulled away and took a look at the outlines that she’d drawn. It was all coming together, looking even better inked on the skin than it had on paper. “Yeah? Well, not that I think either of you will need an extra hand, but I have a cabin of my own. Didn’t build it, but I’ve done some repair work on it. Some interior remodeling too.” Her jaw clenched slightly at the memory of herself, hurling fireballs at the ruined countertops of her cabin after she’d heard the news of Bea. Not one of her finest moments. “If you need someone who’s decent with a power drill, you can always give me a call.” She said as she drew one of the long stems of the flowers. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d be happy to show it to you. And, have fun with the sparring. Give her a good punch for me.” Luce said with a wry grin that was only half joking. A part of her really wanted to beat Nell into the dirt for all the secrets that she’d been keeping from her. At the sound of their planned tattoos, she snorted. “Sounds like a fantastic idea, I approve as both an artist and older sister.”

“You’re valid. Do you ever go to like conventions or stuff like that,” Ariana asked, genuinely curious if that was even a thing and if she could attend one. Her eyes were still on her own arm, watching in awe as Luce finished up the outlines of the flowers there. Somehow, her arm already felt a little more complete and they weren’t even done yet. The directions the flowers flowed in seemed to follow along gracefully with the curves of her arm. They looked as if they were just always meant to be there, meant to keep a part of Celeste with her always, even on days where she felt even further away. She nodded, “You right, you right.” Talking about the cabin did make her happy though. She’d finally have a permanent home, even if it stung that it wasn’t with Celeste, she was glad to have Ulfric. It wasn’t the same, but it didn’t make his role in her life any less meaningful. “Dude, that’s so cool. I mean, I know that’s literally what I’m going into, but it’s always awesome to see other women who are good at wooding, too. I’m sure one of us will let you know if we need an extra hand. Either way, you’ll have to come by and check out the finished product,” she said as she grimaced slightly as Luce worked on the part of her arm closer to her elbow. It wasn’t unbearable my any means, just more sensitive that the other parts had been. “I’m sure she would, we get along pretty well. Comes with the being short and always ready to fight. Think I can do that for you. Nell did insist I called woodworking wooding around you just to see your reaction,” she explained, smiling fondly as she remembered just how ridiculous 90% of their conversations were. “Well, now we have to get it.”

“I’ve been to a couple of expos, yeah. A couple in Boston. One in Montreal a few years back, one all the way down in New York.” Luce nodded as she moved onto the shading. She wanted to keep it delicate, to match the fine lines of the flower petals that she’d made. So, light, careful strokes were key. “Nah. You’re actually gonna be learning big time woodworking, framing stuff. I’m just a DIY kinda gal when it comes to the smaller stuff. Very stereotypical of me.” She said with a wry grin. The jokes about lesbians and Lowes had some merit to them. But, that’s just what happened when you lived on your own in the middle of the woods. You figured out how to take care of yourself. You learned how to live without needing another person. When had that changed? She hadn’t even realized that she was a different person from the girl who’d first moved into the cabin until the day she’d heard the news. That was when she realized just how… fucking stupid she’d been. To cut her sisters out. Clearing her throat, she focused on Ariana’s words again, “Yeah, for sure. I’d be happy to check it out, if only to fuck with Ulf and tell him the joints aren’t lined up right or something.” She laughed and wiped away some ink once more. Nice. It was all coming together into a beautiful arm piece. “I figured she’d put you up to that. Or maybe Blanche. Either of them have a knack for being little shits sometimes.” But, the words lacked some of the fire she’d normally have. They were both working just as hard as she was in their joint endeavor to bring back. She couldn’t be too hard on them. They were just trying to have fun, to be kids, in this fucked up town.

“That’s so cool. Do they ever do any near here? I think I’d like to check one out,” Ariana replied, still super intrigued with the whole thing. Getting to see a bunch of artists and their work. The prospect of also leaving with a new tattoo was fun. She was still intently focused on this one and was entranced watching Luce work. Her hand was definitely gentle and steady as she worked, never holding the needle to her skin for too long to bear. The flowers were looking better than she could have even imagined. At the mention of stereotypes, she laughed a little bit. “I guess we’re both stereotypes in that regard. Does that one still apply if you’re bi? Oh well, I’m claiming it. You can 100% catch me in a Lowe’s… or Trusty Wood.” At the mention of messing with Ulf, there was a devious grin on her face. “Please do that, I love that. I’ll even go along with it.” She let out a soft sigh at the feeling of the cool paper towel wiping away the excess ink. This was only her second tattoo, but she’d quickly realized what a satisfying feeling it was. “Blanche and Nell? Little shits? They would never,” she retorted with a small smirk as she lightly shook her head, “We have to make up for what we lack in height with pure anger and chaotic energy. It’s the law.”

“Boston’s about the closest one to us. Five hour drive. It’s not terrible,” Luce said with a nod. “If one comes up, I’ll let you know. I’m sure you’d be able to have enough time off to come down for a weekend at the very least. Expos are cool places to see other artists, network, figure out what sorta stuff you like.” As Luce looked at the tattoo, she leaned in to finish up the last few areas of shading. Other than that, the tattoo was done. As she added a few speckles to one of the leaves, she realized that the time had passed by far quicker than she’d thought. Huh. Maybe it was just because she had someone to talk with, rather than being talked at. That must have been it. “”You know, I feel like it’s just a big queer woman mood. So you know, you can own Lowe’s.” She said with a slight laugh. Wiping down the tattoo, she leaned back. “What do you think of it? The offer from before stands. If you want me to add anything, now’s the time to say so.”

“That’s not too bad. I’ll hopefully have enough for a used truck by the end of the summer,” Ariana explained, “But totally let me know. I’d love to check one out.” She watched as Luce added the finishing touches to her tattoo and admired her new piece. There was no doubt in her mind that it would look perfect once it healed up. All in all, it was a win. She’d enjoyed getting to talk with Luce some and she had a dope new tattoo to show for it. She laughed along with the joke and added, “I love that for us. It works either way because we don’t need a man to do our home repairs for us.” For a moment, she thought over if she wanted to add anything to the tattoo when Luce asked and she couldn’t help but admire it just the way it was. “I think it’s perfect as is,” she said confidently. It was a subtle dedication to Celeste, one she wouldn’t have to explain over and over. It was just for her. She watched as Luce wipes away the last of the excess ink and wrapped her arm. She vaguely remembered the instructions Ulfric gave her last time and was sure he’d also be able to remind her at home if she forgot. “So aquaphor and antibacterial soap for the after care, right?”

“Nice. And yeah, for sure. They’re cool places.” Luce said with a grin and waited for Ariana to voice her approval. The way the girl’s eyes flicked over the tattoo, taking in the design-- these were moments that she lived for. When clients got to see the art she’d created, this new part of who they were. It was gratifying. Especially when it was a design she liked. “Awesome.” She said, tossing away the used bits of machinery and gloves into their designated disposal bins. Stretching, she walked Ariana back out to the main office, grabbing one of the bags with Aquaphor and instructions for her. “Yep, you know the drill. And besides, you can always ask Ulf, he knows best.” Leaning against the check in counter, she nodded, “You’re all set to go. I’m glad that you liked that one. It turned out really well, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh yeah, living with a tattoo artist definitely has its perks,” Ariana replied with a small laugh. If she did by chance forget something on tattoo care, she probably didn’t even have to leave the room she was in to ask him. Small place paired with werewolf hearing did have some advantages. The fact she relied on voice to text and audio texts software for half her messaging endeavors was not one of them. She’d slung her bag back over her shoulder and gave Luce a puzzled look. “It does look damn good, but how much do I owe you?”

“You’re all set.” Luce repeated, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at the young woman before her. “The tattoo’s on the house. For your sister.” She said with a nod, her jaw tightening slightly. Ariana would never know it, but she was very aware of what kind of grief the girl was going through. The unique pain of losing a sister. And if getting a tattoo would help, if it could ease the pain just a little, she was more than happy to foot the bill.

It took Ariana a moment to process what Luce had just said. She had a feeling Ulf may have told Luce, but she still hadn’t been expecting the tattoo to be on the house. She nodded slowly, trying to push back the feelings that the mention of Celeste brought up. “Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper, “Really-- it was… well, it’s to remember her by.” Not wanting to get too emotional in the middle of the tattoo shop, she gave a wave and a small smile before she made her way out the door. The tattoo was still wrapped, but she knew it’d being her a sense of peace in the months and years to come. She’d definitely remember the kind gesture from a friend as well, somehow giving the piece even more meaning to her.

#wickedswriting #luce #petals for armor #sibling death mentions?

11 notes · View notes

big-bad-ulf · 4 years

Text

The Prodigal Wolf Returns || Ulfric & Winn

Timing: Midday, Thursday 4th of June Parties: @packsbeforesnacks, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric meets with Winn to discuss what drove him out of town, and consider their next moves. Warnings: Mentions of assisted suicide, depression, and grief.

The clearing in the woods was quiet, remote, and neutral. Somewhere they could both feel at home, but that neither could claim ownership of. Hearing footsteps approaching, Ulfric dropped the cigarette stub between his fingers, stamping it out into the leaf litter below to conceal most of the evidence of the bad habit he’d picked up again after Celeste’s passing, though the smoke still lingered accusingly. “I suppose thanks are in order, for coming all the way out here,” he greeted Winn stoically, before finally turning to face the returned wolf. “As you’re aware, I’m not the one who you need to explain your actions to.” He hoped it was apparent he meant Layla and Ariana, but the young man didn’t have the best track record thinking things through to their logical conclusion. “But I’d like one, because as it stands I can’t imagine a scenario in which ‘sparring’ with a tiny human girl while in wolf form was necessary? Nor was fleeing town when you knew others of your kind were in danger.” The older werewolf’s tone was tired, weighed down by the collective suffering of White Crest’s pack over the last few weeks, but an anger borne of disappointment simmered beneath the weariness.

Winn had been dreadin’ this conversation since he’d figured out everyone thought he’d skipped town. Ulfric was… intimidating, to say the absolute least. Winn could handle teenagers. He could handle folks in his own (relative) age group. And Simon was, well, kind, in a way that he wasn’t sure Ulfric was. But part of the problem was that he didn’t know Ulfric. Didn’t know most of the wolves, really, all friendliness aside. So, worst-case scenario, Ulfirc hated him. Best case scenario, Ulfric thought he was an idiot. As he entered the clearing, smoke tickled his nose. The Full Moon was on them and Winn was pretty sure he’d have smelled it even if Ulfric hadn’t just been smoking, but he stowed the frown. It wasn’t his place to judge someone’s habits; he’d had bad habits of his own. Still had some. “I appreciate it,” Winn said, “but it’s unnecessary. I should thank you, for bein’ willing to hear me out.” He leaned against a tree, scrubbing at his eyes. Reconciling with his father and (part of) his former pack hadn’t helped his sleep, much as he wanted it to and, with Natalia out of town, he was running low on aram. “Talked to both of them. Only one left that knew, I think, is you.”

He weighed what he knew about Blanche in his mind, what he knew about Ulfric, and his newfound fondness for the truth. “Blanche is… like a sister, to me. She’s a trouble magnet. If there’s supernatural nonsense goin’ on in White Crest, I head her way. ‘Cause chances are, if she isn’t already involved, she will be in, like, an hour. I know it was stupid, thought I had better control than I did. After I got a hold of myself, I dipped, for just a few minutes. Came back, told Blanche that I was leavin’ to take care of some things, left a note somewhere I thought she’d find it. Phone had been dead before that, and I figured if she told folks I was gone, they’d know that I’d be back soon and couldn’t really make a twelve-hour drive shorter.” Winn sighed. “That’s usually the part of the story where folks have questions, so hit me. Oh, right. Social media. A shirtless photo of mine got flagged and, since I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t contest the deactivation. That one was just coincidence. Lady Luck wasn’t in my favor.”

“It was stupid,” Ulfric confirmed when Winn was through with his explanation. He crossed his arms and paced in a tight, restless pattern as he weighed the other wolf’s actions, to decide what needed asking. It wasn’t like he could pass any judgment in an official sense, it would be up to Layla and Ariana and any of the other wolves who felt slighted to decide for themselves how they felt and how they wanted to interact with him on a personal level. But as a more experienced wolf, he felt obligated to address the aspects of Winn’s behavior that had the potential to harm the entire pack, or even their entire species. “I understand this girl means something to you, but we don’t need to be teaching more humans how to fight us.” Not that it was likely a human of average strength would stand much of a chance, even with whatever ‘mind powers’ Blanche supposedly possessed, but that was beside the point, their weaknesses were meant to stay between them. “Learning that would only help her against our kind, and if you’re worried any one of us is a threat to her that’s something that can be dealt with internally… It’s the fact you don’t seem to know your limits that troubles me most, though.”

Ulfric stopped and stood his ground as he came to that conclusion, looking over Winn appraisingly as he remembered the young wolf bragging about having killed a hunter. He’d chalked it up to mostly harmless arrogance at the time, but when he later explained he hadn’t done it on purpose that should’ve raised more red flags than it had. “You don’t seem like you’re that new to this. You should have a better grasp of how much control you do or don’t have. So, I suppose my questions are, do you know what pushed you over the edge? What do you plan to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

Winn tried not to bristle at the half-accusation, pushing himself off the tree and walking towards Ulfric as, hopefully, non-threateningly as possible. “With all due respect, I never said that I was trainin’ her to take out wolves,” he said. And he hadn’t been! Werewolves were just big and so were, what, half of the things B would run into? “She only knows the bare minimum, assumin’ she hasn’t talked to Kaden ‘bout his other job. Ain’t hard for a human to try silver, given only every story about us tends to revolve ‘round that fact.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “But we can argue ‘bout Blanche later, it’s not like I’ll be sparrin’ with her in wolf form again.”

“It worries me, too. ‘Cause I’ve…” he paused, looking up into the canopy to choose his words carefully. “Let me backtrack. You don’t know much about me, and it might be… helpful. Since you’re the wolf ‘round here with the most experience…” Now, Winn was pacing. “I was turned almost eight years ago. The only turned wolf in a pack of, uh, werewolf fraternity brothers, down south. They guided me through my first dozen shifts, taught me how to be calm. So, believe me when I say: I have plenty of control, ‘specially for not havin’ been a wolf all my life. And don’t get your britches in a bunch, I know that sounds like bullshit, right now.” Winn ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the conclusions he was beginning to draw about his time ‘changed.’ “I said I accidentally killed a Hunter… well, that was half-true. The accident was my own — I was sleepin’ with a Hunter, didn’t know he was a Hunter. The killing was on purpose. Self-defense, when he abused my trust, tried to go after my pack.

“After that, I was in… a dark place. That would’a been late 2015. Next thing I remember, I was in Europe, staggering in my human form out of the woods in early 2018. Thought, until recently, I’d spent a year or two in and out of my wolf form… but, I’m startin’ to question that. Couple theories’ve been tossed around, maybe it isn’t true. But when I… attacked B, it felt different. On a Moon, when I let the wolf come to the forefront… even when I was tryin’ to keep us separate, I still knew what was goin’ on. But with B, I don’t remember anything between getting thrown into a tree and pullin’ myself back from the brink. It was, well, dissociative is maybe the closest way to say it. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I’ve never lost control like that. Not even, y’know, when I was still new at this. It’s… it’s like hittin’ that tree pulled something out of me, something from under my conscious. I— Have you ever heard of anything like that? Where a wolf just… wasn’t himself, or even his wolf self? Even if it had been, say, Ariana, I don’t think it would’ve changed it. I still think that… part of me would want to attack everything.”

“There’s no need for that if you’re not going to do it again.” Ulfric agreed with Winn’s statement about Blanche. Truthfully, he did not want to be having this argument in the first place. A good old-fashioned brawl could be cathartic but having to play the role of stern lecturer just made feel weary, worn-out, and old. Running wild together, celebrating a successful hunt, sharing tales of old legends and recent exploits, those were the things he’d looked forward to about being a part of a pack again. Having to step up and confront things that put them in jeopardy was a responsibility that came with that privilege, but not one he enjoyed or hoped to have to take up often.

The older werewolf couldn’t contain a small grimace of disgust upon hearing Winn’s story. The chance that they might be a hunter was one of the many reasons it was a bad idea to get involved that way with humans, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion on that. The man was an adult capable of making his own choices and he’d also spent a lot of his life as a human, so it was easy to see where that mistake had come from. Besides, it seemed he’d more than learned his lesson on that front.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come back from a betrayal like that.” Ulfric replied at last, because the tale was tragic, if difficult for him to relate to on a personal level. “I haven’t heard of wolves entering an abnormal state like that,” Of course, his own ‘wolf self’ was similar in some ways to what Winn had described, an entirely animalistic being, but even then it retained the animal instinct not to attack its own kind without severe provocation and the risk of that side of himself emerging outside of a full moon was very low. “It seems the answers may lie in what happened in those lost years. What are the theories?” Staying transformed for the better part of years… Was such a thing truly possible? Ulfric could’ve almost been jealous of Winn for having that freedom from morals and responsibilities of the human world for so long, if the suffering it was causing him now wasn’t so apparent.

“Have you tried… it could be possible, or so I’ve heard, to bring some memories back through mystical means.” He suggested hesitantly. “I don’t like getting involved with such things, but you can’t just… go on the way you are, not without having to isolate yourself.” And that was the last thing he wanted for any of his kind, regardless of whether he held them in high regard or not. “If something were to bring on this feral state in front of a crowd that would mean disaster for all of us. And I’m sure you know that,” He leveled the younger wolf with a hard-nosed look. “Even if some of your actions suggest a distinct lack of judgment of the more mundane variety.”

“I— Thanks.” Winn frowned, stopping his pacing as Ulfric spoke. “I have a… friend, who looked into some, uh, wolf causes. Didn’t find much, some reports of wolves stayin’ transformed who went… feral, who couldn’t change back into their human form.” What Rio had told him had scared him, but it hadn’t felt, well… correct. It seemed like even those wolves had the sense to not attack other wolves, that they retained some of their humanity, even if they became more animal than human. ‘Course, many of them didn’t live to tell their tale, and the records that Rio had found could only tell them so much. Some had been written by Hunters, others written by a wolf who had to put one of his own down. But Winn had come back, which seemed to be the wrinkle. No Hunter had ever tried to bring a wolf back to themselves, but not even a packmate could. So, if Winn had been transformed, how could he have come back?

“Given I’m back, though, my friend and I ruled that out. ‘Specially for a bitten wolf to come back from bein’ feral? Seemed unlikely. Not when there was another explanation. Which is, um…” Alright, okay. He could admit this aloud. “My dad is a huxian. He thinks it might be mystical, yeah. Somethin’ taken from me, or somethin’ I gave up.”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “I’m still tryin’ other avenues. R— My friend is lookin�� into… side-effects of wolfsbane. What shit street wolfsbane might get spiked with. I—” Winn scratched at his arms, almost wishin’ that he was wearin’ a shirt. “I took wolfsbane for months, after I killed that Hunter. Blamed myself for what happened to the pack. And I guess I… stopped.” He looked up into the canopy. “But you’re right. I need to figure out my shit, so I don’t put us all at risk. And, short of goin’ back on the wolfsbane — which I’m not gonna do — we really don’t have any leads. If there’s… a part of me, that’s missin’, then I don’t want to go on like this. I can’t. Even if…” Well, there was always this part. Winn looked back down at Ulfric, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t… I don’t want your pity. This isn’t y’all’s problem, but there’s… well, if I’m missin’ two years, there’s a chance that…” He coughed.

“There’s this Hunter I know. Luke mentioned him at the meeting. He… If I did somethin’ bad, hurt an innocent life, he’s the one I trust to… put an end to me. But I don’t want him knowin’ about what happened with B, and— I don’t know what could happen, if I get those memories back. No one I’ve talked to so far does. But if he’s… if I’m different, if I try to hurt someone, I need y’all to be willin’ to stop me. If that happens… As the person I am now, I want you… to take me down. If you can’t kill me, let me rot. If I can’t control myself, I am… I am not more important than all of you.” His voice was hoarse, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember crying this much in a very long time, but he needed to be firm. “Promise me. Please. I’m sorry, so sorry, to put that burden on you.” He held out his hand, for the other wolf to take, to seal the pact. “But it has to be done.”

As Winn’s explanation continued, it became more and more clear to Ulfric that his actions couldn’t be explained away by stupidity or cowardice. That was a shame really, both of those causes would’ve been much easier to deal with than this mystery of missing memory. Everything Winn said seemed to introduce a new piece to the puzzle (Huxians, wolfsbane, and of course, the seemingly inescapable interference of hunters), but it was unclear how they whole fit together or how much of a threat would be revealed when the big picture came together. When the young wolf came to the end of his speech and what he was asking him to do sunk in, Ulfric’s blood ran cold. Protecting the pack was paramount, but the thought of killing another wolf was profane, it would be the ultimate sacrilege towards the gift his ancestors had bestowed upon him.

“I’m not going to sit idly by and let you harm other members of the pack, of that you can be certain,” he answered carefully, considering his options. If Winn were to slip into a permanent state of mindless, unbridled aggression, the usual ‘last resort’ of exile would do little to keep him from returning and causing havoc in their territory. Caging was another possibility, but he knew if their circumstances were reversed, he’d prefer a quick death over a life spent in chains, and it seemed the young man would as well. And finally, allowing hunters to deal with him in that state would only further inflame their hatred towards his kind, along with being plain undignified. “If your continued existence poses a threat to their survival, I promise you, I’ll do what needs to be done.” Ulfric accepted after a long moment’s deliberation, giving Winn’s hand a firm, resolute shake, though the clamminess of his palm betrayed his instinctual, visceral reaction against the plan. “Let’s not let it come to that though,” He added, more of an instruction than a hope. “I’ve had my fill of death for the time being.”

““Thank you,” Winn said, quietly. “But… Agreed. Don’t want it to come to that.” It wasn’t that Winn hadn’t considered his death before. Hell, after what had happened with his old pack, there had been times where he’d… well, where he’d really considered dying. Winn liked to think he was better, now. If not totally well-adjusted, at least pretty solid on the ‘me dying wouldn’t fix the issue’ mantra. Counseling helped that, and learning about counseling only reinforced it. Which is part of why he knew: “I need those memories back, though. Even if it hurts, or if there’s… a reason I buried them. Now that I know they might not be there, it’s like… it’s like I can feel the space where they used to be. They’re a blindspot, sure, but more than that they’re… part of me. I can’t…” He sighed, sitting down on the forest floor and breathing in the woods for a moment before continuing. “As I am now, I can’t imagine what reason I could have had to bury them or… take them? I don’t know anybody who’d have the answers. Plus, there’s all the shit with Luke, and what happened with Ari, and… Fuck, man, I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. I… I mean, I didn’t know Celeste, but I talked to Ari some, and… I know it’s a cheap question, but are you okay, Ulfric?”

“I think I can understand that. Why you’d want them back.” Ulfric assured him. He was familiar with having gaps in his memory, though he’d never had much choice in the matter. Berserkers had lost the ability to remember most of their actions while transformed centuries ago, and their intentions behind that, if there were any, were shrouded in mystery and myth. He did have a choice, though, between taking the easy way out and walking away from the carnage he’d caused while in wolf form and reconstructing what happened during that time as best he could. Ever since his ill-thought-out vengeance against the hunters who took his younger siblings, he’d chosen to do the latter. Chosen to look at the carnage and accept why it had happened, and that it was a part of him.

“What we do is what we are,” he pondered aloud, before directing his attention back on Winn more fully. “I respect your choice and wish you luck. You can count on me for… whatever it is you think I can provide.” Which wasn’t much, given his lack of expertise in the realm of the magical. He couldn’t even truthfully say he’d provide friendly support, because he was still too wary of the young wolf and the potential danger he posed to the pack as a whole to consider him a friend. An alliance was clearly in both their best interests though, so Ulfric refrained from repeating his earlier comments about not wanting any help from him when he asked how he was. “I’ll survive, so will you,” he stated simply and firmly instead, almost ordering the fates to make it so. “Any other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” The older wolf turned briskly and took off into the trees. Action was required of both of them, if the White Crest pack was ever going to be able to consider itself safe. They could spare no more time for conjecture and contemplation.

#chatzy #winn #the prodigal wolf returns #wickedswriting #suicide tw

11 notes · View notes

laylacooke · 4 years

Text

Who Saved Who || Celeste (RIP) & Layla

timing: the day of the poltergeist attack at animal control parties: @celestelavie & @laylacooke summary: celeste and layla share one last meaningful moment together, before, you know... warnings: celeste is patching up a wounded layla (with a needle & thread), but i think that’s about it. if you see anything that needs tags, let me know! ♥

Somehow, she had managed to escape a werewolf hunter AND a poltergeist all in the same setting. What had turned out to be an afternoon of just looking at puppies had turned into a nightmare and a fight for survival. Body weak from blood loss and her skin paler than normal, Layla stumbled up onto the porch of Ulf’s trailer. Holding the left side of her stomach from the stab wound Kaden...err Kaden’s dead mother gave her, Layla put all her weight against the door and banged on it, praying someone would be there to let her in. Sweat ran down her face as she fought to stay on her feet, until someone could come and help her, “Come on...open the door...please open the door…”

Celeste had been enjoying the seemingly quiet day she was having. She’d had the day off and found herself relaxing on the couch looking through one of the art books Ulfric had lying around. Her head perked up as she could hear someone walking up the way outside, but a frown reached her lips when she could hear what sounded like a struggling Layla. Worry immediately etched itself on her face as she jumped up from the couch and rushed to the door. When she swung the door open to see Layla there bleeding, looking like she could pass out at any moment, she placed an arm around her to hold her up while trying to assess her injuries. “What happened? Where are you hurt? We need to get you cleaned up.”

Layla closed her eyes as she fought to stay upright. The adrenaline she had used to get home was running out, and if someone didn’t find her soon, she knew there was a nice open spot for her body to collapse on to the porch. However, her ears perked when she heard someone coming. With the remainder of her strength, she pushed herself off the door, so she wouldn’t fall into whoever was home. Seeing Celeste had been a relief, and without hesitating, she threw her arm around the woman for support, “Kaden...there was a ghost and it possessed Kaden…” Layla slowly removed her hand to show the young hunter the stab wound, “I’m just so tired. Can I just...can I sit down. I just want to sit down.”

The mention of Kaden’s name made her brows knit together. Celeste hadn’t realized he had a ghost problem and frowned. It meant he inevitably knew what Layla was, but she wanted to believe he wouldn’t be able to hurt her for the same reason he wasn’t targeting Ariana. He was making strides with the whole fae girlfriend thing, but the sight of Layla ready to collapse was concerning. She’d get the story out of her once she was patched up. She hurriedly helped get her sitting at one of the chairs. “Stay here,” she instructed, “I’m grabbing my first aid kit.” She came running back less than a minute later, asking, “Show me the wound.”

Once Layla was in a chair, she let her body go limp, except for the hand that was covering her stomach. Her limbs felt so heavy. Closing her eyes, she tried to stop her mind from racing. Everything that had happened was unexpected. Sure, this hadn’t been her first experience with something dangerous in White Crest, but it certainly felt like the worst. Not being able to see your attacker, until your only ally was possessed and sliding a silver blade into your stomach had topped anything she had ever experienced. When she heard Celeste return, she jumped slightly; eyes darting open to make sure she was safe. “Yeah…” Removing her crimson stained hand, she winced as the removal of pressure had caused some pain. Blood still coming out, she let her eyes move to Celeste, “I’m sorry.” Laying her head back, she closed her eyes again.

There was no way around the fact that the wound was bad and stitching it up would be painful, especially considering the slight burning around the laceration which had to be from silver. Celeste began to prepare a cloth to cleanse the wound. “This is going to sting,” she warned, “It looks like I’ll need to stitch it up, too. I’m going to need you to stay very still even though it’s going to hurt.” She opened one of the wipes in the packet and cleaned the surface, then used the cloth to apply pressure to slow the bleeding. This was much easier to do on limbs versus torso. Limbs you could at least use a strap to slow blood flow and bleeding. “Can you tell me what happened, Layla?” She looked up, still applying pressure to the wound, and gave the younger girl a concerned look.

She listened as Celeste spoke about what she was in for. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all, but Layla had no choice. Feeling the wipe and antiseptic going over her raw skin, she flinched slightly. That wasn’t so bad. Okay, it was kind of bad, but she could handle that. Her eyes remained closed as she began to explain to Celeste the situation she had ended up in, “I went to look at puppies at animal control. Kaden came in, and he was talking to me about this one puppy in particular...Indy.” She inhaled slowly, breath quivering, “Then the lights just started to flicker and all hell broke loose. It was like some ghost had it out for me. It knew about my family. About me. And it...it took over Kaden’s body, and before I could get him off of me, he stabbed me…” She opened her eyes and looked at Celeste, “I scratched him. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but it was the only way he would get off me. But he managed to get the ghost out, and then we ran.”

The story that was recounted was bizarre even by White Crest’s standards though she wasn’t particularly surprised even as ghosts, hunter parents really were assholes. Celeste nodded, keeping the cloth firmly pressed down. She needed the bleeding to slow enough to make the suture. It dawned on her Layla said she was looking at puppies, but she’d circle back to that later. “That sounds terrifying, I’m sorry this happened to you. I’ve never dealt with a ghost myself,” she replied, trying to keep her tone smooth and comforting, “You scratched him. Did he help you escape the ghost?” It sounded like he may have, which did make her feel a certain sense of pride. They were becoming friends, he was learning to see the world a little differently, and if he helped her, she had to believe there was hope for him yet.

Layla shifted in the chair as Celeste kept pressure on the wound. The room around her was starting to feel off kilter from the blood loss, and the redhead just wanted to lay down. Starting to feel anxiety creep in as everything around her continued to move, she closed her eyes again. Her heart was racing and sweat was dripping down from her face, but she didn’t want to alert Celeste, “It’s funny I keep getting myself into this shit. One of these days, it’s gonna get me killed.” Her voice was short as talking was getting harder to do. “Yeah, I... I helped him, and then he helped me...teamwork got us out. Which surprised me, because he seems like he doesn’t like people..or me, I don’t know. Are you done yet?” She knew Celeste hadn’t even started sewing the wound, but her mind was trying to deceive her, while she tried to keep from passing out.

Celeste shook the rest of her questions away. They could talk more once she was stitched up and in less pain. Still, knowing that Kaden helped Layla, when his instincts would have told him what she was, was reassuring. They would have to talk about his mom being a ghost thing when he was ready. It sounded like he had a lot on his plate at the moment and it seemed better not to push him. “I’m just glad you both made it out of there. He’s not a people person, I wouldn’t take it personally. You’re with me on the full moon so it won’t be a problem either way.” She removed the cloth, the bleeding had slowed, she could start working on the suture now. Carefully, she pulled the edges of the wound back together, holding Layla’s side still with her arm. “This part is going to suck,” she warned, as she put the needle and thread into her skin. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to do this again for a while, but the teenage werewolves seemed to be damn good at finding trouble.

Layla tried to focus her mind on Celeste’s voice, and she gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in. Eyes still closed, she tried to think of happier times. Frankie. Ariana. Indy the Puppy. Cheerleading. Archery. Anything to just keep her mind off of the pain and the - Feeling the hunter close the sides of the wound and poke the needle into her skin, the teenager let out a cry of agony. Her knuckles were now white from the tight grip around the chair and her breathing rapid. This wasn’t anything like what she had seen in the movies or on Buffy. This fucking hurt, and she just wanted it to be over with. Eyes shut so tightly together that she was seeing stars, she tried her best not to squirm, but was starting to fail. No words apparent right now for fear of throwing up.

Celeste felt bad that Layla was in pain, but this was unavoidable. The alternative was letting it continue to bleed out which would have not done either of them any good. She frowned and tried to speak in a soothing tone to distract her. “You’re doing great. I’m working as quickly and accurately as I can. When we’re done, you could probably take some more of those meds they gave you for your hand. After you eat something and have some water. You don’t want to take those on an empty stomach.” She hoped the continued sound of her voice served as a distraction. She focused on working quickly and as she tied up the last stitch, she advised, “We’re done, I’ll be right back with a snack. I know you may not feel like it, but you need to have something in your stomach so you can take some medication.”

She continued to listen. Now focusing on the inflection of Celeste’s voice. She listened to the birds chirping outside and the argopelters scurrying around. Her hearing even went so far out as to hear a tree falling in the distance at the sound of a chainsaw. Whatever was out there to distract her, she was living for it, and before Layla knew it, the hunter had finished what she was doing. Slowly opening her sad eyes, she looked to Celeste, before slowly glancing down at the stitched wound. Something else that would have to heal, but right now, all she could think about was laying down. Well, that and the pain medicine, she had refused to take for her hand. The blood covering her hands and clothes would have to wait, until everything wasn’t spinning, and she didn’t feel like passing out, “I’ll eat, if I can just lay down afterwards. How did you get so good at this?”

“Of course,” Celeste answered as she grabbed one of the vegan ramen packets from the cabinet. As she prepared it, she shrugged and explained, “Something my parents taught me. Had to put it to use a lot growing… and living here. They’re much easier to do when you’re not the one you’re stitching up.” Once the ramen was finished, she came back to the table and set it down in front of Layla. After all that blood loss, food was a necessity. She didn’t want her fainting somewhere when she wasn’t paying attention. She looked to Layla, her features soft to show her concern, “Outside of the stab wound, how are you feeling? Being attacked by a ghost had to have been scary for you.”

“My parents taught me a little. If I had actually taken hunting seriously…” She swallowed, her mouth dry, “I might not be in this situation.” She watched as Celeste brought the ramen over to her. Slowly taking the fork, and with a shaking, bloody hand, Layla took a small bite. It had taken some effort to guide it to her mouth, but once it was in, the food tasted better than she had thought it would. After eating a few bites, she sat the fork back down, “Like crap. And in shock. I don’t know why I thought poltergeists weren’t real, when I change into a dog every full moon.” She looked down, disappointed in herself. She had put Celeste, Ari, and Ulf through so much in just in a little over a month. Eyes still down, she thanked the woman who had bandaged her up, “Thank you...for keeping alive. And taking me on. I know I’m a handful.”

“I think it’s better that you didn’t. You’re a good kid. I’d hate to see that kind of violence take away the parts of yourself that you love most,” Celeste said in the most reassuring tone she could manage. “Plus, there are actual doctors for this sort of thing.” It brought her some comfort to see Layla eating her soup. It wasn’t the most gourmet of meals, but that had always been more of Ariana’s thing. Plus, Celeste knew very little about vegan cooking. Instant vegan ramen was probably the best way to go. It’d at least help her feel less woozy after all the blood loss. She listened as Layla explained being taken aback by the whole poltergeist situation. “They’re not particularly common. Not all ghosts become poltergeists. I believe there are factors that play into, but I never learned too much about ghosts myself,” she explained, hoping that it made her feel better for not knowing. “I guess we should just always expect anything is possible.” She gave the girl a pat on the shoulder as she called herself a handful. “You’re not a handful, you’re just a teenager. I’m happy to have you with us, Layla. I know Ariana and Ulfric are as well.”

Kid. Layla had, for the most part, missed being a kid. Training had started early in her life, but when she could, she tried to embrace doing kid things. That’s one of the reasons Frankie had been a Godsend, because of the freedom she had provided the teenager for so many years, “If I could be living a different life right now, regardless, I think I’d choose it. Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, but all I’ve ever wanted was a normal life.” She swallowed thickly, before picking the fork back up and taking a few more bites, “Ghosts were never my strong suit either. I was mostly trying to figure out how to prevent my parents from killing wolves and animals. But you’re right, because this town is weird as fuck.” She laid the fork down and shifted in her seat. A weak smile spread across her face when Celeste mentioned that she was happy Layla was there. “Thanks. It’s just nice to finally have somebody in my life who knows what it’s like to have nightmare hunter parents. I don’t know what I’d do if I never met you, Celeste. Or Ari and Ulf. Even though Ulf scares me.” She let out a weak, uneasy laugh, “Ariana’s lucky to have you in her life.”

Celeste could understand wanting things to be different. As important as Ariana was to her, it’d still be nice if they could live their lives a little more freely. If she could go one day without having to swallow back that sense of worry that everything could come crashing down around them. They had all deserved better, but the world couldn’t change overnight. “It’s okay to wish things were different. You know you deserve better. That just makes you one step closer to finding it,” she tried to validate what the younger girl was feeling and gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe for now we can try to avoid the angry ghosts and leave it to the experts.” She’d take a murderous mime twin to a ghost any day. The element of not being able to see what attacked you was problematic. It was heartwarming to hear she felt the same about their shared connection though. Growing up with hunter parents, at least from what she gathered, was not easy. They held little regard for their own children outside what it meant for their so-called legacy. She offered her a warm smile from across the table and replied, “I agree with you. It’s a rare experience, having that upbringing and ending up outside of that world. I know you were forced out, but it doesn’t sound like it was ever what you wanted to be. I can assure that you have no reason to be afraid of Ulfric though. Trust may take a while to build. I’m not sure of what his previous experience was, but I can imagine it wasn’t a pleasant one. With time and honesty from both sides, you two will get there.” While she wasn’t close with Ulfric, she trusted him to always have Ariana’s best interest in mind. He’d proven as much. She reached across the table and gave Layla’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re all lucky to have each other.”

It was the way she said the words. How mature she had been for someone so young, and even Layla could see that. She had come to appreciate hearing what Celeste had to say. The guidance it gave her and words to fall back on when her mind was telling her one thing, but her heart was telling her something else. She had come to cherish her time spent with Celeste, and she didn’t take it for granted, especially when she was close to bleeding out. The woman giving Layla’s hand a gentle squeeze brought a weak smile to her face. The teenager was a wreck. Tired. Dirty. And shaken up, but there was something reassuring about Celeste being around, “And I’m lucky Ariana took a chance on me that day.” Pushing the bowl back, Layla slowly moved her hand away from the hunter and used it for what little leverage she could in an attempt to get up, but failed leaving her yelping out in pain and stuck in the chair, “I promise I won’t ask for anything else tonight, but can you help me to the couch or to my place in Ari’s room.” Her breathing labored from not wanting to agitate the wound. She was helpless as per usual, but she wanted to be better and do better. Get to a place where she didn’t have to depend on Celeste, but only to talk and laugh with. It would take time but having such a jarring experience with Kaden had seemed to put a lot of things in perspective. Unfortunately, Layla didn’t know what life had in store for her or any of them, especially Celeste.

Celeste smiled softly, “I’m glad she took a chance on you, too, Layla. I have no doubt none of us will regret it.” As Layla struggled to get up from the table, her grin quickly turned to a frown. The wound would make it painful to move around for the immediate future. She rushed to Layla’s side and slid an arm under her shoulders so she could hoist her up. “Of course,” she answered, “Let’s get you settled in on the couch. I can help you get to the bedroom later, too, if you’d like. We’re all here for each other, remember?” She took Layla over to the couch slowly and carefully, making sure not to cause any more pain for her. She helped her get comfortable with a pillow and blanket. It dawned on her she may like to watch some TV, so she reached for the remote and handed it to her, too. “There we go, that should be a comfortable set up. If you need anything else, I am home for the night and would rather help you. Can’t have you busting your stitches open now.”

The act of kindness. The motherly ways that Celeste was taking on to take care of her had brought tears to the teenager’s eyes. As she slowly moved from the table to the couch and was soon tucked in, Layla realized that this was what it was supposed to feel like being cared for. Someone who was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing and health. Not in the way her mother and father had so often liked to treat her. Making her feel like she was nothing. Her grandmother and Frankie had always been the ones in her life to lift her up, but after getting the bite, she had no one, until she had met Ariana, Celeste, and even Ulfric. Though he didn’t show it quite as much and there was still room for both to grow, “Not even my own mother showed me this kind of love. If I was sick or hurt, they would put on a show for the public, but when we got home, they did the bare minimum. Ariana’s so lucky to have you in her life.” She wiped her eyes with her hands, “And no, because that needle fucking hurts.” She managed to muster out a small airy laugh, but that was about it. “One of these days, it’ll be me taking care of you. You’ll see. For all you’ve done, it’ll be the least I can do.”

#para: who saved who #celestelavie #wickedswriting #have some more celeste feels in your life

11 notes · View notes