ferkwehs - Tumblr blog

[ferkwehs]

PAIRING: inej ghafa & kaz brekker, with a side of wylan van eck & jesper fahey. FANDOM: grishaverse. SCENARIO: a little new years celebration in the barrel, an old friends reunion, kaz brekker being a simp and inej ghafa being her glorious captain self. GENRE: fluff. WORD COUNT: 1,907. WARNINGS: alcohol, mentions of d*ath. COMMISSIONS: open.

streets near the canal decorated in the luminous lights of a new dawn, shopping bags filled with heartfelt notes and thoughtful gifts dangling off the crooks of elbows: ketterdam is always in a rush of something due to its restless nature, but the sweet thrill of new years it gets at the end of each fall is quite endearing. even the barrel, which usually pulls the short stick in terms of the finer things the city has to offer, has no intentions of missing the exhilaration whatsoever. or perhaps it is just kaz who feels that way, but that might as well be because of the situation he has found himself in: he would not call the slat a lonesome place, but he will admit it, as he watches anika kindle the flames in the fireplaces, all he can think about is the faces that fade into the quivering shadows: jesper, founding an unanticipated comfort in the serene streets of west stave with a certain chemist. nina, who he has no idea about her whereabouts but has no choice except to wish for her wellbeing in silence. matthias, who he wishes he could say the same about, for he would much prefer the rueful uncertainty over stone-cold truth of mortality any day. six feet under is not a good place to be in a time like this. and for inej... there is not a power on earth that could contain the wraith, but that doesn't mean the tides of the true sea hitting the shores is enough consolation for the captain's absence. the sweet pride of knowing she is ruling those riotous waters always dilutes into the somber loneliness of looking at his window sill and seeing the crows she used to feed off her hand, waiting for her return in patience. turns out, being the dirtyhands is not that big of a victory once coming home to a girl rising out of shadows to his sight stops being an option.

though he's never been good at looking at things on the bright side, he does find it easier to think it makes moments like this more precious rather than to dwell on the year-round solitariness, the moments where they get a glimpse of their past, the most overlooked and simple parts of it such as just settling into the foyer as everyone minded their own business. his papers in his hand, finances of the day carefully sorted through, jesper's high pitched whistle accompanying the shuffling of cards, pistols on the table waiting to be cleaned. inej never had a prominent presence in the room that could be spotted, but she could be felt in the wind that crept between open windows, always lurking around, sometimes to tease jesper about the cards slipped up beneath his sleeves or to settle on the window sill for a rightful criticism kaz rarely wants to hear. he should have appreciated it when he had it, but he is as mortal as any fool and as bitter as twice, he thought filing it off as annoying and pushing it aside would make him miss it less when this day would come, but it only makes him regret not making the most of it.

though, none of it matters tonight, when the slat is louder than usual once again with a long-awaited reunion. wylan and jesper are the first ones to show up, and kaz will admit, upper-class life had did them good- none of that sickly pale looks anymore, both boys fitting well into their clothes, jesper's haircut way too neat compared to the times he had it cut by inej in the foyer. wylan, a pair of thin glasses with red frames sitting atop his nose, a healthy tint of rose in his cheeks, looks as homely as he could. kaz still isn't sure how the van eck mansion survived as long as it did without being blasted, considering its residents' dangerous curiosity & tendency for careless experiments, but they are in one piece & seemingly content, so he finds it easy to look past the suspicion.

inej is the second and the last knock of the night, and oh does she a greeting, wylan and jesper racing to get to the door and give her a hug, all while the wraith takes her first step into the house, and saints... everything is so different & perfectly the same at the same time. the long dark waves braided down her shoulders, the gleam of brilliance burning bright in the pair of brown eyes, the way her lips splits into a grin so joyous it fills the room with the warm light of the sunset. yet her steps are different, her stance, the way she carries herself: no longer drawn to the shadows, no longer walking on the tips of her toes. no longer a girl clinging to the comfort of the shadows, is what dawns on him. but she is walking with the confidence of a captain, faith in herself unshakable. and her gaze is finding him...

well, kaz isn't sure he knows how to breathe anymore.

----

“ have you gotten my gift?” ordering around an entire crew did not erase her abilities as the wraith, kaz learns, as the girl seeps into the creaks of the light, finding her spot near him, her shoulder rested against the wall, one hand twirling a glass of champagne kaz had stolen from the finest cellar of ketterdam for the low price of a bruise or two. a new years present for the night, if you will. he considers the question with a tilt of his head, pretending to think: ah, her gift. arriving a week before, much to kaz's surprise, for the unexpected mail only means ominous threats or attempts at ghastly warnings. he did not expect to pull a beautifully depicted painting of the sunflower fields from delicate wrapping, but he did sit across and pondered what to do with it. inej's note had been clear, it might bring some joy to that despicable house, she had written. or you might sell it and get yourself a new pair of gloves. less hideous ones, preferably.

“ mhm, sold it already.” slips past his mouth, unfazed as the glass is brought to his lips to ease his nerves. “ good eye for art, it was so popular here, i thought i was going to have to make an auction for it.” inej, unaware that the painting is very much on the display attached to a wall in kaz's office, makes a displeased sound after a thorough observation. “ still the same gloves, and here i was hoping for a new years miracle.” kaz's smile to that is wolfish at best. “ welcome back to the barrel, captain ghafa.”

something about his words makes her gaze soften, her head ducking as she searches for something more than easy banter exchanged between them. saints, they have so much to talk about. he has so much to tell her about. “ i should probably give you your gift now,” is what comes out instead, as he moves away from the wall he had been leaning on to sneak his hand into his pocket, amused at the reaction it elicits from the girl: a widening of eyes, a tint of blush on cheekbones. “ dear saints, am i witnessing kaz brekker finding civilization?”

“ don't flatter yourself, i don't like owing to you, you are so hard to please.” kaz clears the air with a few easy lies and a dismissing wave of his hand, and the only reason why he's not looking at inej is that he knows that one look at her endeared grin will be more than enough to disentangle him, and he has no intentions of making a fool of himself at the girl's feet. not yet, at least. so he reaches into his pocket, cold metal chain against his skin making him even more hesitant. he had been oh so sure of the fact that the sapphires & emeralds were meant to sit atop inej's collarbones when he first saw the necklace, having no second thoughts about a nimble twist of his wrist to slide it into his pocket, but now that the moment has come he is feeling all sorts of doubts. though, still not enough to make him have a change of heart, so he pulls the necklace out, eyes a careful watch on inej as her mouth falls open. “ not as pretty as your painting, but i am a simple man,” he says. “ you can wear it, or you can sell it and get yourself new pistols,” he gestures toward the girl's hips, two pistols sitting on her belt. “ those things are old as jesper's dad.”

“ i heard that!” jesper chimes from the fireplace, yet he has no intentions of pursuing as he is a little too busy with listening whatever story wylan has to tell him. inej's exhale is a slow thing, her mouth closing back up, her eyes darting between kaz and her present for a moment. “ will you put it on me?”

saints, she's trying to kill him, isn't she? kaz isn't even aware of the little nod his head gives at the thought, but inej is turning on her heels already, her hand capturing the raven black braids to move them, nape of her neck presented. kaz looks at her for a second, and all he can hope for while he is reaching over her to drape the gems over her neck is that she doesn't realize how useless his hands are, numb with anticipation, losing all of their deft. by some miracle, he manages to clasp it, and by some miracle, inej doesn't move away once the job is done, head tilting up to meet kaz's gaze instead. “ this is beautiful,” she says in all honesty. “ thank you.”

for the first time that night, the dirtyhands's smile doesn't bear any amusement or taunt, but it is pure simple contentment that softens his sharp features, with the pride of making the right decision seeping into it. inej captures it too, and perhaps it is why she sighs with such distraction. “ i...” she begins, but then her lips are pursing into a thin line and kaz knows everything she wants to voice but just can't get out. there is only so much separation can change, she is still his wraith in her heart. she always will be. so he offers quiet “ i know,” to her struggle, and here comes the dangerous waters, his gloved fingers, brushing against hers, looking down at their hands instead of her face. he is still not as brave as he would like to be. “ i know,” comes again, quieter, knowing. “ me too.” i've missed you, too.

but he is not so broken that when inej's lithe fingers wrap around his, that he can't hold her back, holding onto the simple touch with all that he's got, just letting himself exist at that moment. just her and him, like the old times. everything else, disappearing into flames. inej carefully rests her forehead on his shoulder, and kaz responds by rubbing her knuckle with his thumb. “ happy new years, inej,” he mumbles. “ i will always be waiting for the tides to bring you back to me.”

[ferkwehs]

INTRODUCTION.

hello!  i'm  sena,  a  suffering  english  language  and  literature  student.  since  i  am  in  college  and  my  schedule  is  highly  unstable  at  the  moment,  i  have  decided  to  open  up  commissions  for  my  writings  to  help  with  bills/rent  etc.  i  have  been  in  tumblr  rpc  since  2019,  and  i  have  been  writing  since  i  was  in  middleschool,  i  have  experience  with  fanfictions  and  drabbles.  samples  of  my  work  can  be  found  here,  and  i  can  be  commissioned  through  either  askbox  or  IMs.  i  prefer  paypal  as  a  paying  method,  ko-fi  is  currently  under  construction.

ACCEPTING  FANDOMS.

these  are  mainly  the  fandoms  that  come  to  my  mind  first  in  terms  of  writing  in  a  familiar  universe,  but  if  you  don't  see  a  certain  fandom  or  a  character  you'd  like  in  the  list,  please  feel  free  to  check  in  with  me!  i'm  pretty  sure  we  can  work  something  out.  

GRISHAVERSE.  alina  starkov,  the  darkling,  malyen  oretsev,  baghra,  genya  safin,  david  kostyk,  zoya  nazyalensky,  nikolai  lantsov,  tamar-kir  bataar,  tolya  yul-bataar,  kaz  brekker,  inej  ghafa,  nina  zenik,  jesper  fahey,  wylan  van  eck,  matthias  helvar,  ehri  kir-taban,  leoni  hilli,  adrik  zhabin,  nadia  zhabin.

RIORDANVERSE.  percy  jackson,  annabeth  chase,  grover  underwood,  rachel  dare,  leo  valdez,  jason  grace,  piper  mclean,  hazel  levesque,  nico  di  angelo,  will  solace,  thalia  grace,  reyna  ramirez-arellano,  hylla  ramirez-arellano,  frank  zhang,  charles  beckendorf,  clarisse  la  rue,  travis  stoll,  connor  stoll,  katie  gardner,  miranda  gardner,  lou  ellen  blackstone,  carter  kane,  sadie  kane,  zia  rashid,  magnus  chase,  alex  fierro.

ALL  FOR  THE  GAME.  neil  josten,  andrew  minyard,  aaron  minyard,  nicky  hemmicks,  jeremy  knox,  renee  walker,  kevin  day,  jean  moreau,  katelyn  smith,  danielle  wilds,  allison  reynolds.

THE  WITCHER.  (  netflix  based.  )  yennefer  of  vengerberg,  fringilla  of  nilfgaard,  geralt  of  rivia,  jaskier  the  bard,  cirilla  of  cintra,  tissaia  de  vries.  renfri.

MCU.  tony  stark.  peter  parker.  MJ.  natasha  romanoff.  yelena  belova.  wanda  maximoff.  pietro  maximoff.  scott  lang.  bucky  barnes.  steve  rogers.  sam  wilson.

HARRY  POTTER.  harry  potter.  ron  weasley.  hermione  granger.  viktor  krum.  fleur  delacour.  cedric  diggory.  pansy  parkinson.  bill  weasley.  fred  weasley.  george  weasley.  draco  malfoy.  astoria  greengrass.  lily  evans.  sirius  black.  james  potter.  remus  lupin.  marlene  mckinnon.  andromeda  tonks.

TWILIGHT.  bella  swan.  jacob  black.  alice  cullen.  emmett  cullen.  rosalie  hale.  aro  volturi.  jane  volturi.  alec  volturi.

AVATAR:  THE  LAST  AIRBENDER.  aang.  katara.  toph.  suki.  sokka.  zuko.  kyoshi.  azula.  mai.  ty  lee.

LEGEND  OF  KORRA.  korra.  asami.  mako.  bolin.  tenzin.  lin.  kya  ii.  bumi.

ARCANE.  vi.  caitlyn  kiramman.  viktor.  jayce.  mel  medarda.  ambessa  medarda.  jinx.  ekko.  silco.  sevika.

LEAGUE  OF  LEGENDS.  pretty  much  all  of  the  characters.

RULES.

●  things  i  will  write:  fluff,  angst,  humor,  horror,  domestic  plots,  smut,  ot3s,  monogamy,  polyamory,  aus,  OCs,  romantic  dynamics,  platonic  dynamics,  familial  dynamics,

●  things  i  will  not  write:  inc*st,  SA,  anything  sexual  including  a  minor,  dub-con,  anything  racist/sexist/homophobic/transphobic/xenophobic.  please  do  not  contact  me.  i  won't  write  smut  commissions  for  people,  under  18,  please  don't  lie  about  your  age.

●  forms  i  will  write:  drabbles,  short  stories,  fanfictions.

●  i  reserve  the  right  to  turn  down  any  commission.

●  you  will  receive  the  work  in  the  span  of  a  week  after  you  commission  me.

●  for  smut,  i  usually  get  along  with  kinks  but  still,  i  reserve  the  right  to  refuse  writing  something  i'm  uncertain  about.

●  the  accuracy  of  what  you  want  will  be  shaped  by  your  request.  the  more  detail  you  give  me,  the  more  it  will  be  as  you  imagined.  if  you  don't  give  me  much  details,  i  will  assume  creative  control.

●  if  you  want,  for  an  example,  a  piece  of  smut  with  percy  and  annabeth,  i  am  not  writing  it  in  any  point  in  the  series.  it  will  happen  after  the  series  when  they  are  both  grown  adults.  this  goes  for  all  of  the  media  i  take  commissions  for  that  include  minors.  i  don't  age  up  characters  for  smut,  don't  ask  me  to.

●  i  will  write  a  canon  character  with  your  OC,  but  i  am  going  to  need  information  on  your  muse  and  the  setting.

●  disclaimer:  i  do  not  own  any  of  the  characters  are  write  for,  nor  i  am  affiliated  with  the  series  and  the  author.

PRICES.

drabbles.

●  5  euros.  between  100  and  500  words.

●  10  euros.  between  500  and  1000  words.

●  15  euros.  between  1000  and  1500  words.

●  20  euros.  between  1500  and  2000  words.

and  for  every  additional  500  words,  i  charge  5  euros.  for  smut,  extra  2  euros  are  added  each  500  words.

fanfictions.

●  fanfictions  will  be  charged  by  chapter,  not  word  count.  each  chapter  will  include  a  minimum  of  2000  words,  and  i  am  going  to  be  charging  25  euros  per  chapter.

[ferkwehs]

WRITING SAMPLES  ,  taken from my various works. each differently formatted.

 MANMADE  GRIEF  AT  FINGERTIPS,  NO  SIGHT  OF  REDEMPTION  AT  HORIZON.  this  is  what  becomes  of  the  pocketknife  girls  once  the  taste  of  rapture  that  they  have  sworn  to  forget  burns  them  again.  the  wrath  cradled  inside  the  marrow  of  bones  like  a  wildfire  fading  as  a  delusion,  the  embers  of  wishful  youth  put  out  with  a  brutal  hiss  once  the  water  is  poured.  it’s  one  of  the  nights  bianca  is  not  smelling  of  monster  dust  and  dried  blood,  where  she  doesn’t  carry  the  comforting  chill  of  knives  nestled  against  the  crooks  of  her  body,  layers  and  layers  of  gear  abandoned  somewhere  in  her  bathroom.  instead,  it’s  one  of  the  nights  where  bianca  lets  her  raven  black  hair  down  her  shoulders,  by  now  long  dry  in  the  summer  breeze.  a  thin  faded  shirt  of  a  band  she  is  supposed  to  know,  stolen  from  her  brother.  there  is  the  rose  tint  of  life  on  her  cheeks,  and  warmth  of  tea  mug  held  inbetween  palms.  it’s  one  of  the  nights  where  bianca  looks  like  more  of  a  girl  than  a  ghost. 

do  you  know  why  i  fell  in  love  with  you? because  of  the  way  she  looked  at  you  as  if  it  is  your  smile  that  brought  the  day  after  the  night,  as  if  the  stars  had  been  formed  with  the  cunning  gleam  in  your  bright  eyes.  because  of  the  way  she  has  stood  by  your  side,  because  it  was  her  hand  that  held  yours  through  your  worst  fears  and  restless  nightmares,  it  was  her  voice  that  echoed  a  thousand  times  that  you  would  never  be  alone  in  this  world.  it  was  her  loyalty  that  kept  her  at  her  knees  even  at  the  times  you  did  not  wish  to  see  her  there,  the  girl  becoming  a  shadow  lurking  in  the  darkest  corners  of  the  king  to  cut  off  any  hand  of  harm  that  reached  for  him.  because  it  was  her,  that  you  shared  a  childhood  with,  it  was  her,  that  you  shared  dreams  with,  and  it  is  her  heart  that  you  carried  in  yours.  perhaps  it  is  what  made  their  separation  as  agonizing  as  it  did,  the  knowledge  that  he  couldn’t  lodge  a  knife  between  her  ribs  before  rupturing  it  through  his  own  heart  first.  that  he  couldn’t  kill  her  before  killing  himself  first,  all  because  of  a  very  same  reason:  bianca  &  nikolai,  two  souls  separated  at  the  making  at  the  heart  of  the  world,  first  laying  eyes  on  each  other  when  they  are  nothing  more  than  a  little  curious  boy  and  a  little  undecipherable  girl,  when  they  grown  within  each  other  as  the  branches  of  two  tears  rooted  nearby  grows  circling  the  other,  merging  into  one.  you  can’t  pull  bianca  away  from  nikolai  without  taking  him  with  you,  and  if  you  pull  nikolai  from  bianca  the  woman  left  there  will  not  be  her  anymore.  forever  each  other’s,  an  adamant  kinship.

STATIC ELECTRICITY IN THE AIR, THE FROST OF WINTER CRYSTALLIZING IN HER LUNGS: SHE DIDN’T THINKS SHE’D FEEL THIS WAY. closer to the sky, closer to finding something she shouldn’t be looking for. it is way too easy to let the electricity she feels pulling on her skin like borrowed flesh ignite the spark, fall a bit too close to the embers. a calculated risk, bianca would have called it, even though it’d be a lie, she knows, for there is no amount of sane premeditation that would have made sense for her to be sitting in the terrace of a lavish hotel. dazzling neon signs half hung above the doors of cheap motels, elegant letters lightened up by a vibrant gold color in huge, refined fonts, giving a taste of opulence in the gates of grandeur hotels: vegas has something for anybody, and bianca could have picked as she has liked, but this particular one has the best view of it all. THE LOTUS CASINO, chartreuse light that shines behind as vigorous as a warning & as alluring as a lure. figures, figures, walking through the glass doors to be greeted by a friendly face that had long disappeared into quiet waters of lethe. figures, figures, walking through, but never walking out. fingertip, drawing countless circles around the glass, bourbon that burns through her throat as bitter as the memory, sour with the very resentment of returning here, as if it means defeat. she can wrap two good hands around herself and say, i am bigger than you are. see, i refused to drown here. but lotus doesn’t care. all that matters is she’s back into places she never thought would have taken as much as they did from her. all that matters is she’s here.

“ interesting choice.” she feels him before she hears him, though she’s never quite managed to truly understand if it was because he was molded of the same shadows that breathed life into them, or if it was simply because that they shared a womb, lives connected in birth a tether hard to severe. hard to severe it proves, if she still hears his silent footsteps in the very same land that has seized a life from them, the vibrating silhouette coming together into the shape of a young man with each step closer. his face is the last to reveal, two onyxes for eyes bringing all the life he’ll need to his pale face. she used to be able to tell what he was thinking, now all she can assume is that he might want to join her for the night, the only sound becoming the liquor pouring, the glass held out for him is the only invitation he gets. he will have to forgive her rude manners- it has been a rough day.

“ what a view you’ve got here,” an idle hum resonates deeps in nico’s chest as he leans against the wall on his shoulder, accepting the gesture alongside the lack of chastising for her whereabouts getting her to think, perhaps, it’s not his day either. there is no comfort in that thought. “ ever thought of hosting a dinner here? we’ll bring hazel, give her a tour. do you think she’d like to see what’s in there?”

“ how did you find me?” the question is regretted as soon as it is asked, mostly because it is as pointless as asking where the sun rises and falls from. “ i’ll find you anywhere.” comes the reply, and the lack of faux amusement in it is enough to send a chill down her backbone, just as nonchalant about the question as she was, a mandatory east. as he settles into the lounge beside hers, he doesn’t ask her what she is doing there. his gaze never once leaving the building she had been watching for a couple of hours by now, bianca thinking about something different than sepia memories for the first time that day. “ are you here because you want to burn it to the ground, or are you here because you missed our room, the poker tables, and the sheer bliss of not yet knowing we’ve lost eighty years to them?”

this is nico, in all his terrifying glory, his finger never teetering on the trigger as he pulls it. his brand of cruelty leaves no survivors, and sometimes bianca thinks she will find his name red underlined in the list of victims. ruthless words mumbled from a ruthless boy, her head tilting aside in consideration: “ life certainly was easier there,” her knuckle idle as it rubs at her chin, the comment an afterthought. nico breathes out a ghost of a half bemused chuckle at that, whiskey down his throat like it was water before he reaches for it again. “ of course it was. it was designed to be. designed for the tired and the broken, and the ones who were no longer interested in seeing what this world had to offer.” a pause saying what they both don’t say: designed for us.

“ it got the timing wrong,” a despondent sigh, coated in faux resentment. “ i was bright when i was thirteen, i thought i could make something out of myself. i thought i could have had a future if i’d worked hard enough for it. it should have been now.” they should have taken me now.

he is not the only one who can say things that feels like a broken mirror in throats, the bitterness coming out in waves, a sink carved of regrets overflowing. nico’s gaze leaves the hotel, no longer interested in memories he had buried years ago, reminding her once again that the reason why he’s here is her. she keeps hers on the green light. “ they wouldn’t have you,” comes after a momentary consideration, a study of her thoroughly, and she can see that he is displeased with what he’s found. disappointment, she can recognize on him. she’s seen it enough. “ you’re far too good at gambling and you are horrible company, no one would have liked you.”

a solemn nod is given to how fair it is, followed by a chuckle that comes within, her head falling back, limbs easing. “ bianca,” pay attention, is the undercurrent of his tone, now the nonchalance of it disappearing into dusty weather of vegas. she doesn’t want to see that look on his face, so she keeps her attention on her hands, fingertip still drawing circles. “ don’t come back here again. there is nothing left for us in lotus. fantasizing about tearing the place down or wondering how life would have gone if we never ended up here will not make you feel better. it will only make you bitter.”

“ i don’t come here to dare it,” but she knows the final verdict before even she protests in exhaustion. “  i come here to think.”

“ we’ll find better places for you think.” nico cuts it off without a second thought, not interested in arguing her in what her true motives are, both  knowing what the walls are made of, both unwilling to scratch at the wallpaper. he rises from his seat, a hand extended for her to take. bianca looks at the path way back to the camp as long as she could before a slow, controlled exhale leaves with the last of her strength: “ i don’t want to go back,” nothing more than a whisper, shake of her head barely visible. “ every day, i’m thinking if i could ever grow to see it as someplace that i could love, but it always feels like reaching for stars. how do you do it? how can you bear it there?”

if they were a couple years younger, he would have deemed her impossible and leave her to decide her own medicine, but thank gods for epiphanies that happen at last, she supposes. because he doesn’t leave, he doesn’t sigh, he just kneels by her, so she has nowhere left to escape the demanding glare that bores into her tired one. “ i don’t go back home to camp,” a moment of silence stretching between them. “ i go back home to will. to lou ellen, to cecil. and unless you have something else that you’d like to call home, you will come back home to me.”

there is no necessity for it, but she still goes ahead and searches for truth in his relentless visage, in his unyielding trust in his words. “ what if i don’t remember how that feels like anymore?” this is not a protest, not an attempt to make her way out, no, this is her desperate to be convinced that she is wrong, spill all the things that feel wrong in her chest so nico can crush them in his palms without an ounce of mercy. “what if i feel like i am exchanged for a ghost? what if feel like i am just floating somewhere in asphodel, without a past and without a future?”

hard questions, but only hard for her to ask them, it appears, because he doesn’t flinch when he answers: “ then i’ll go into asphodel, find you where you are, drag you back up here with me, and anchor you down if that’s what it’s going to take.”

“ to what?” a push of her luck.

“ to keep you with me.” as always, the only person in the world who is both stubborn and deranged enough to figure out what she needs.

“ you don’t have to.” would she do the same for him? would she hold onto him until her hands would mold into stone around his wrists? would she really, find him anywhere? she has failed at that, before. all there is to be found in nico’s face is peace that comes at last. “ i know.” how many questions did it take him to get there? how many times he had dug his heart out of his ribs, make sure it will keep beating, then put it back again?

“ why?” some days, nico looks like more of their mother, with her unforgiving, unapologetic stance, with her eyes and her nose and her cheekbones. some days, nico looks like more of their father, with his cruelty that stops the very beating of her heart, with his understanding of things way deeper than she’ll ever get a chance to see. but right now, he looks old in the way only tired hearts are. older than she ever thought she could imagine him, with a kind of acceptance and wisdom that was originally expected from her. jokes on you, all of you, you were all wrong about him. his hand, rising to capture hers, the simplicity of the movement enough to ground her at the moment. nico was more than what you thought he was. “ because i will always come back home to you. because you are my sister. we were once and we will be a family again, but you have to try, bianca. we are not built on shaky grounds, and we are not weak people. we will mend this, only if you want to.”

the silence that lasts is a deafening one, bianca’s fingers tight around nico’s as she watches his face as long as she can, as he lets her. she could have told him that he really doesn’t need her anymore, but he knows that, too. this is not about need, and not about pasts recreated over and over again to shatter. this is about choices, and nico is choosing bianca, and he will keep choosing her until they pull each other into a semblance of family, until they fix what is broken. is not choosing him back an option? is there an alternative to this where she doesn’t hold onto him as tight as she can, one she doesn’t swear on styx that she will remain by his side for whatever will become of them? if there is, she is far away from them, because she is rising with him when he pulls her into her feet. she doesn’t thank him, and he doesn’t expect her to. they return to the familiar coldness of hades cabin instead, and they rip out the bandaids of wounds they held onto for years, letting it burn & letting it heal. this, bianca realizes, a house she can pull open the curtains of and let the sun in. this, the terror inside her disintegrating into her veins. this, is coming home at last.