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[library-of-crow]

Tethered

The shuffling of blankets followed by the soft thump of hooves on the wood floor is what stirred Lillith from sleep. She blinked a couple times, eyes adjusting to the dark room, as she turned to watch Rapture's shoulder rise and fall rather quickly. On her other side, Eirrol slept peacefully unaware, even as the bed shifted as Rapture pushed to his feet and went about getting dressed as quietly as he could.

"Rapture.." Lillith rasped before a yawn escaped her. "What's the matter? It's late.. or early, I suppose." She rolled over so she was laying on her stomach and watching him buzz about the room.

"I need to.. do something." Rapture had paused awkwardly, causing Lillith to narrow her eyes a bit. "Go back to sleep. I'll sort this, alright?" His voice was soft as he returned to the bedside and gently ran a hand through her hair. Lillith let her eyes roll shut as he did, especially when his hand landed under her chin and his lips found her forehead. He'd lingered a bit longer in the kiss than she'd expected, and that's when she knew something was off.

"Rapture.." She repeated as her hand took hold of his cloak. He had been in such a hurry that he'd really just thrown a cloak over his night clothes. Wordlessly, she pressed him for an answer by not letting go as he turned to leave again.

"Something’s wrong." He sighed in defeat and hung his head slightly as he straightened back up. "Something’s very wrong and I.. I need to pray." Lillith's stomach twisted as his voice fell to a low whisper.

Rapture was, after all, a twilight cleric. Perhaps this was just the best time to commune with his goddess, she thought. At least, she hoped.

"Be safe." Lillith dropped her grasp on his cloak as he pulled the blankets back over her.

"I will." Rapture assured, sparing one last touch to her shoulder. Gentle as always. "I shouldn't be longer than five minutes."

"Is that permission to come find you after that time passes?"

"It's, uh.." Rapture scratched at the back of his neck. "Yes. It is." He admitted and Lilith hummed in approval.

Without another word between them, he made for the door and lightly shut it behind him as to not disturb his lovers further. Once he'd left, Lillith didn't fall back asleep, instead leaving her eyes lingering on the door to await his return.

Seconds became minutes, and minutes became an hour, and the soft sound of rain finally pulled Lillith from bed when Rapture didn't return. She threw on a cloak, not bothering to check who's it was, and slipped out of the room. He never went far, the twilight goddess was reachable almost anywhere, but he always found somewhere warm and quiet to pray. For Lillith to spot him, not fifty paces from the inn door, kneeling in the mud while rain beat down on his upturned face, meant something had to be terribly wrong.

As she approached, the sound of quiet crying made her heart sink in her chest. Without concern for the mud, she fell to her knees beside him and stretched her wing over his head despite how soaked he already was. There was a beat of silence between them as Lillith gave him the opportunity to speak first.

"Do you.." Rapture sniffled as he tried to calm himself down enough to speak. "Do you remember when I told you about the woman? The one that was there when my parents died? The one that told me to run?" He rambled off as clawed hands mercilessly rubbed at his face. Lillith took one and gently laid it in his lap while weaving their fingers together. When he turned his head to look at her, she nodded silently. A choked sob escaped him and Lillith scooted closer.

"She was my sister." Rapture looked away to hang his head. "All this time searching for this mystery person, and she's always been my sister." As another sob wracked his body, Rapture fell sideways into Lillith's shoulder.

"How do you know?" She asked softly as her free hand found his hair. The gentle movement of her fingers unwrapped every piece of him until his other hand moved to clutch at her cloak and he was half a second from being cradled in her arms.

"Yeniri told me." Rapture hiccuped as he recalled the conversation with his goddess. "Because she's dead, Lillith." The words were barely choked out and Lillith couldn't stop herself blinking in shock. "That's what woke me up. That's what's wrong. She's dead! She died!"

Lillith pulled her soaked lover closer to her chest as he fell into hysterics. Her wings wrapped around the both of them as she gently traced circles on his back. There wasn't much to say, they both knew this, but she was determined to stay at his side. After all, Rapture was terrified of being alone and there was something terribly lonely about this.

By the time Rapture had calmed down, neither knew how long they'd been out there. The rain began to quell and the slightest pinks of sunrise had just barely peeked over the horizon when they made it back to their room in the inn. Few words were exchanged but the silence was safe and warm in each other’s presence. Once they were stripped down and dried off, both crawled back into bed beside their sleeping lover, who had amazingly remained asleep through it all.

"How did it happen?" Lillith finally asked once Rapture was adequately snuggled up to her side with his head rested atop her chest. His swollen eyes were shut while his arms were slung lazily across both of his lovers.

"I don't know." He rasped, adjusting his head slightly. "It was quick, I know that, and she was.." A wince cut him off for a beat. "She was afraid." The pain in his face and voice brought a familiar tightening to Lillith's chest.

"We'll do something tomorrow. In her honor." Her hand raked through his hair as her eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I'm sure she's proud of you."

"She was." Rapture's voice cracked, and his grip on Lillith and Eirrol tightened. "I suppose I'll talk it over with Eirrol in the morning."

[library-of-crow]

Minerva vs LaBrea

They're making more Prosperos.

Minerva couldn't push the thought from her mind as LaBrea prattled on about her work doing good for the world. Honestly, she wasn't even listening anymore. She couldn't hear her over the scream of thoughts in her head and the whir in her chest. 

More soldiers.

There was a flash of memory; something from her childhood that she'd forgotten. It was splotchy but she could feel the crack of a baton against her head. The bark of a CSSEF officer. The shine of his boots right before he kicked her. The way his heel dug into her eternally broken shoulder as she cried for mercy. Her fist tightened.

We are nothing to her.

With the crack of metal on bone, Minerva put her fist through LaBrea's cheek before she could say another word. The laser gun pointed at her head didn't have time to go off before it happened and sent LaBrea stumbling backwards a couple steps. Minerva saw red as LaBrea gathered herself and took off running. She paused for a second, just long enough for Nova's hand to make contact with her back and send rushes of magic through her body. Her feet were lighter. She was faster. Without wasting another second, Minerva took off after LaBrea with her eyes laser focused on the bright red of her hair against the dull gloom of Prospero. In her absence, the slight sweet of burning flesh hung in the air. 

Her left leg hit the ground after a couple steps with a firm enough step to cut her run to the side without losing any momentum. The movement was second-nature and led her between buildings down a side alley. Another turn brought her to a bit of scaffolding that she vaulted with ease. It had been there since she first moved in with Sha’el. A passing thought wondered if they’d forgotten about it. Another burst upwards brought her to a metal chute, a direct channel to the street below. The metal eye haphazardly forced into her skull whirred as she stared towards the street. There was a brief moment of quiet, between the gentle hum of nearby machinery and the distant shouting of another argument in the street, before the heavy sound of LaBrea’s footsteps finally grew close enough. In a flash, Minerva hoisted herself into the chute and was rocketed to the street below. LaBrea broke her fall.

“Get off of me!” LaBrea screamed as she struggled against Minerva’s grasp. Her face was blank as she readjusted her grip to flip LaBrea over and attempted to pin her arms at her sides. The desperate flail of the other woman made this difficult so she moved into a kneeling position and brought her boot down onto the wrist of her mutated arm. LaBrea let out another cry. 

With a hand freed up, Minerva reached back and produced a hammer. Though smaller than her favored weapon, it would do enough. Her arm extended back behind her head and the last thing LaBrea saw in that moment was the glint of sunlight against the hammer’s cheek. The deafening crack of La Brea’s nose was nearly drowned out by her screaming. 

“No, please! Please, let me go, please god, please!” LaBrea begged, desperately trying to wretch herself from Minerva’s grip. Her cries were met with silence and Minerva’s vacant stare. “Minerva! Please, I don’t want to die!”

The hammer went back up, this time spotted with hints of blood. Seizing the opportunity, LaBrea made one last attempt at breaking free by shoving her free hand in Minerva’s face and rolling her trapped wrist to knock her off balance. The movement was successful enough to let LaBrea flip over and crawl out from under Minerva while she stumbled back a bit. Within seconds, LaBrea was back on her feet but her vision was clouded and disoriented from the attack. 

With a huff of annoyance, Minerva pulled herself to her feet and watched the staggering figure of LaBrea start to pick up the pace. The hammer in her grasp slipped to the ground with a clunk that frightened LaBrea onwards. It was shortly followed by the soft clatter of Minerva’s cochlear implants hitting the ground. 

The world went silent. 

LaBrea peeked back over her shoulder just as Minerva gained on her again. Her mouth fell open in a scream that fell on deaf ears as Minerva wrenched her back by her hair and threw her to the ground. As she straddled her, this time she was sure to keep both of her arms pinned on either side of her body using her knees. She struck first with her fist, splitting LaBrea’s cheek just below her eye. Sweat dripped from her brow as her body grew hotter and hotter with each subsequent strike. 

Crack, crack, crack.

What she couldn’t hear, Minerva felt against her knuckles as they met flesh and bone over and over again. LaBrea didn’t scream anymore. With the state of her bloodied vocal chords, she couldn’t anymore. Her face was so bloodied that it hid any trace of the alluring woman they’d met in the weeks prior. While the smashed eyepatch almost melded with her skull and left her beyond recognition.

“Pl-ease.. I don’t-” Another strike, “-want to die.” Minerva saw her mouth move, but made no movement to stop. Not even as she watched tears mix with blood as they pooled beneath her head. 

Not even as she felt two sets of footsteps approach. Not until they were physically ripping her thrashing form from LaBrea’s unmoving body

Only then did the warm feeling of blood steadily dripping from her knuckles catch her attention.

[library-of-crow]

How to show emotions

Part III

How to show disappointment

swallowing hard

low, monotone voice

clucking their tongue

rubbing their face

shaking head

clenching hands

sighing

frowning

pursing of the lips

slumped shoulders

looking away

scowling

How to show relief

exhaling deeply

tension in their face going away

closing eyes for a moment

tentative smile

eyes brightening up

small giddy laughter

putting hand on their breast

joyfully tearing up

looking up

How to show desire

gaze dropping down to the other's lips

opening mouth slightly

small smile around the eyes

eyes widening

pupils dilating

biting lips

following them with their eyes

inhaling deeply

licking lips

How to show tiredness

closing eyes

slowly opening them again

long sighs

yawning

no eye contact

head lolling to the side

closed mouth, neither smile nor scowl

not moving a lot

doing everything slower

staring off into the near distance

How to show confidence

prolonged eye contact

nodding to show they are listening

putting their shoulders back

holding head high

leaning forward

standing tall

smiling openly

Part I | Part II

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[library-of-crow]

MAG ???: New Girl

Statement of Sean Palmer regarding an encounter with a new student in his Year 13 class. Original statement given October 14th, 2011. Audio recording by Kokushibiyo Yamai, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

The new girl in our class was weird. Not really in a ‘said weird things’ or ‘wore weird clothes’ way, but more of in a ‘didn’t quite belong in our class’ way. Of course, that’s no reason to single anyone out. After all, she transferred to our school in our final year of secondary school and said she moved to our little town all the way from Japan after a nasty custody battle between her parents, so it only made sense she didn’t quite fit in. In retrospect, it should have been suspicious that the accidents started just after she arrived, but at the time they were just that. Accidents.

We lived in an ‘everyone knows everyone’ town. One of my Year 5 teachers had babysat me when I was younger and a couple of my classmates’ parents had been friends in their school years. Generally, we didn’t get many new students. By our final year, all of my classmates were people I’d known since I was practically in diapers. Still, on occasion, people joined us. Roger Parsons moved in after his grandma died and left her house to their family in Year 4, I think. Zoe Newton moved in Year 6. I can’t remember if it was because her Dad was going through some weird, mid-life crisis that inspired him to move to the country or if that was Ned Hartley. They joined our school in the same year, so I get them mixed up sometimes.

Anyways, point is, word travels through town fast. If someone moves in, it's the talk of the town for at least two weeks and someone usually hosts a small party to welcome them in. This new girl seemed to fly under the radar and no one knew she was around until she showed up at school. She was smaller, maybe the second shortest in the class, and wore thick circular glasses that almost gave her a sort of bug-eyed look. Her hair was a stark white, something that my friend Eli said could be caused by stress or trauma. I’m not sure if that’s true but he said he’d read about it online and we sort of just accepted it as fact. She introduced herself as Kiyomi and insisted that we call her Kiyo, but never Kiki or any other variation of her name. Again, in retrospect, I never learned her last name. I suppose she never actually had one or didn’t care to go through the trouble of making one up.

In the first couple of weeks, having Kiyo around was completely normal. She wasn’t particularly social or antisocial, she sort of just hung around and chatted if we engaged with her. The more we got to know her, the more we enjoyed her presence and, eventually, we were inviting her to all our social gatherings as regular classmates would. Outside of school, she had a very cute and frilly style that was just as clean cut and neat as her uniform looked. Everything about her was just so clean and perfect, you’d wonder if she was a living doll at times.

Everything, except her shoes. For some reason, she always wore these beat up, old trainers that were practically falling apart at the seams. I think the soles were glued on in some places and a patch had been haphazardly sewn on the ankle of the right one. Honestly, they always looked two steps from just disintegrating on her feet. Worse than that, they were always filthy, as if she spent every morning running through muddy creeks or dragging them through animal pens. But, somehow, not an ounce of that dirt ended up on her pristine stockings or her perfectly pressed skirt. When I mentioned it to a classmate, he brushed it off without much regard and claimed he hadn’t even noticed them. It really seemed that I was the only one that found it odd. Even so, I befriended Kiyo and enjoyed chatting with her on the sidelines of parties when we ended up near each other.

The first accident occurred two months into school. Jacob Larson, a classmate of ours, had washed up beside a stream in the nearby woods after a particularly heavy rainstorm. He had apparently gone out to meet some buddies and took the woods as a shortcut. It was officially ruled an accident after his ankle was found to be broken and it was assumed that he made a misstep that sent him tumbling into the flash-flooding stream and left him to drown. The town was devastated, but an accident is an accident. There’s no one to blame, save for Jacob’s ignorance. At the time, I was too shocked by the news to think anything of how exceptionally muddy Kiyo’s shoes were the day he was found.

Next was Hollie Rhodes, a couple weeks later. She’d been found near the train tracks with one of her legs on the other side. Those of us that knew Hollie told the police that she had absolutely no reason to be around the train tracks, especially given how nasty the weather had been that night. Sarah Allen, her best friend, even told them that Hollie had made plans to come to her house to watch movies on the night of her death. Yet, the needle found on scene and the drugs found in Hollie’s system were enough to have it ruled as an accident, despite how much Sarah pleaded with them to explore the potential for foul play. By the end of the week, everyone had moved on from Hollie’s death, as if there had been no cause for concern. Even Sarah seemed to get over it.

Then Sarah died too. This one happened a month later and I really felt like I was the only one with some sense about it. Her body was in the woods. They were always in the damned woods and that never seemed to strike anyone as odd. Her head was entirely caved in with a tree resting atop it like it was meant to land there. Sure, it had been storming that night as well, and sure, trees fell when they were struck by lightning, but what were the odds of one falling so perfectly on Sarah’s head? The bloodstains on the actual tree almost seemed.. Painted on. As if someone had taken great care to decorate the scene to look like an accident. Not to mention, her ankle was broken too. I think her mother said it was shattered. How does tripping shatter an ankle? And why was I the only one that seemed to want to know?

After Sarah, I became much more outright with my suspicions of murder. I brought it up in so many conversations that my classmates started ignoring me. Even Kiyo, whose shoes bore faint red flecks among their dirt and grime, seemed to distance herself from me. Who could blame them? I was crazed and kept bringing up our classmates that died in horrific accidents, obsessing over an imagined killer. But not one person even took the time to consider my ramblings. They brushed me off, called me ‘troubled’ and recommended therapists. Still, I stuck to my theories and became intent on proving that something was wrong.

My parents were worried too, so I had to wait until after dark to check out the woods. Now, I know, yes, if there’s a killer on the loose it is incredibly stupid to mill about after dark, but I was a stupid kid and all of my friends thought I was insane so off I went into the night. This is where things start to get a little blurry. I don’t remember how deep into the woods I got before the hairs on my neck started to stand up with the horrifying feeling that I was being watched. I do remember spinning around aimlessly and shining my torch at anything that made even the slightest noise, but there was nothing there. I pressed on, even as I felt the beginnings of rain and a nauseating lurch in my stomach. That feeling never subsided. Every step I took had me checking over my shoulders for something, anything that might be watching me, stalking me. Without realizing, I’d become some sort of prey and whatever was following me was determined to scare me before attacking.

A twig finally snapped behind me and when I turned, torch at the ready, I caught a set of eyes in the darkness. They were too high up to belong to an animal, maybe a large bear but we didn’t see many of those where I lived. Still, the way they reflected the light was.. animalistic. They didn’t approach while I stared at them, waiting for something, anything, to happen. I yelled at them, beckoned them to come forward, but nothing. They were waiting, patiently waiting, for me to make a move.

So I did.

The second I stepped back, preparing to run, the eyes grew closer. Without waiting for the figure to reveal itself, I took off at a dead sprint. Whatever had been following me did too and I found myself stuck in a desperate chase for my life just as the rain picked up into a downpour that made it even harder to see. My lungs burned and my feet ached but I kept up my pace on pure adrenaline. I knew that slowing down would cost my life. I knew I’d end up like Sarah or Hollie or Jacob. I knew whatever was chasing me was the culprit, I just did.

Then, the footsteps behind me grew quieter until they disappeared entirely. I kept running a while longer just to be safe, though this left me completely lost in the woods. When I came to a stop, I couldn’t feel my body and had to buckle over to catch my breath. I was just barely able to avoid being sick as the adrenaline continued to pump through my system, keeping me on edge. The sound of running feet brought me back upright and before I could take off again, a body came crashing into mine. It was Eli, my friend and classmate, soaked to the bone and screaming as we tumbled to the ground. With both of us in hysterics, it took a minute for both of us to calm down enough to realize that we had collided with one another rather than whatever creature was chasing us. Our stories matched up. Strange eyes in the darkness, a long and sudden chase, only Eli couldn’t remember entering the woods while I could. We stood, holding each other at arm’s length by the shoulders as rain beat down on us, trying to keep each other steady and devise a plan for surviving the night and navigating home in the morning.

I don’t actually know what happened next, but I remember the sharp crack of something hard against Eli’s head. My torch was small but once I scrambled back and managed to hold it to the scene in front of me, it was more than bright enough.

Have you heard the crack of human bones? The squish of flesh as its pounded over and over and over again? I can still hear it when I close my eyes. Eli didn’t scream, I’m not sure he could after that initial whack. I didn’t scream either, but I think that was because I was so shocked as I watched Kiyomi take a bloody baseball bat to Eli’s head and body. Her perfectly clean appearance had been ruined with blood splatters, but she didn’t seem bothered. No, her mouth was curled in the most terrifying smile, as if this was some demented game for her.

I was awestruck and couldn’t move. I just shined that torch on her and Eli until she finally stopped. She was facing me when she dropped the bat, let out a laugh, and licked some of the blood off her fingers. That��s when I noticed how unnaturally sharp some of her teeth were. I was sure she’d kill me, so I stayed still. I was a deer in the headlights just waiting for her to step over the mound of flesh and bone that was once my friend to start bashing me in as well. It felt like a century passed as I just stared up at her and she stared down at me from behind those thick glasses.

Then, through that animalistic smile, she said one word: “Run.”

So I did. I ran and ran, as if I hadn’t just exhausted myself only moments prior. I ran until I hit a tree branch that sent me tumbling to the ground with rocks slicing through my skin, then got up and ran some more. I don’t know when I stopped but eventually I did and I holed myself up by a large rock, desperate to use it as a shelter from the monster that wore the new girl’s face.

When morning broke, I was still alive. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t moved. I was covered in a spray of blood that I hadn’t noticed last night. My ankle burned in pain and I deduced that I had twisted it at some point while I was running for my life.

I wish I could tell you how I avoided being charged with Eli’s murder, but honestly I have no idea. I spent months in a haze after it all happened, constantly checking over my shoulder, constantly ready to run, but I never saw Kiyomi again. No one did. No one even seemed to know who I was talking about.

I was institutionalized later that year and now, five years later, I think I’ve finally overcome it. I’ve actually taken up running as a hobby now. My therapist said it could be useful to reclaim it after being so afraid of it for so long. It feels good.

Statement ends.

Sean is still alive from what I’ve found but was readmitted to a psychological hospital after coming home in a panic and telling his wife that ‘she was back’. It wouldn’t shock me if Kiyomi was intent on carrying out this hunt over a long period of time. Every time I think I've escaped her, she worms her way back into my attention. Crazy bitch. For Sean's sake, I hope she grows tired of him soon. For my sake, I hope she becomes obsessed with him. Then, she'll at least leave me be a little while longer.

[library-of-crow]

Jo Get Your Horse

Mama had many rules, but the most important one was don’t stray from the road.

Johanna knew this rule well and it was one of the only ones she opted to follow when she ran off into the wilds to entertain herself. At the age of ten, Jo spent most of her time away from home to avoid bothering her mother during the daylight hours. 

“Go on, now.” Her Mama would say, waving her towards the door that seemed to always be swinging open when the sun was in the sky. “If you stay around here, I’m gunna put you to work.” The vague threat was always enough to send the black-haired girl stumbling out of the house with her wide-brimmed hat in hand. 

Just like any other day, Jo followed this routine and made her way down the road to search for some exciting sticks or rocks that she could bring home to show her mama. One of her hands tugged irritably at her poncho, righting it after it snagged over her shoulder on her way out the door, while her free hand grazed against trees as she passed them by. The bark scraped her hands but she didn’t seem to mind. After all, they had grown rough from a routine of doing exactly that nearly every day. 

“Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye.” Jo chanted some nursery rhyme her mother had told her at some point. Her eyes landed on a particularly long stick that she eagerly picked up and used to knock against trees in place of her hand. “Four and twenty blackbirds, baked into a pie.” She continued, the stick thunking against each tree she passed with a quiet scraping noise as she dragged it lazily along their barks.

The sound of snapping twigs cut off the rest of her tune as Jo skidded to a halt. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound as her slitted eyes attempted to focus on the darkness off the path. Another twig snapped and Jo found her curiosity adequately piqued by the sound. “If you’re tryin’ to get me, it sure won’t work!” She yelled into the trees with her hands firmly planted on her hips and her chest puffed out in a confident stance. Remembering her long stick, she waved it in the direction of the sound, as if brandishing a long weapon, in her attempt at being even vaguely threatening. “I got a big ol’ stick! I sure ain’t afraid to use it!” She yelled again, receiving nothing in response from the trees and bushes she yelled at. With an unsatisfied ‘hmph,’ Jo turned to continue on her path.

Snap.

Another set of twigs broke, pulling Jo back in. “Alright, then, show yourself! You bleedin’, bottleneckin’, yellow-bellied, son of a-” Her ranting was cut off as a pair of eyes made eye contact with her own. She gasped a bit as they did, stepping to the side of the tree that separated them. What she saw made her drop her stick in utter shock. There, in the tall grass, laid a young white horse. Its forelock had grown to cover most of its face, but it's ever-so-slightly glowing red eyes shone through the gaps in its hair to gaze at Jo. “What in the..” She started, stepping forward in the direction of the horse. 

With a loud snort and panicked whinny, the horse’s legs thrashed about to reveal a bear trap caught on one of its legs. The dark red of the creature’s blood stained its pretty white coat and drew Jo in even more. She froze, looking down briefly at the vague line where the road ended and the tall grass took over. One more step and she’d be off the path. Her eyes were fixated on her foot as it hovered, poised to head into the grass off the main path. The thrashing and snorting of the horse broke the fixation, her eyes flicking back up to the panicked creature. 

“Sorry, Mama..” She muttered, stepping off the path and in the direction of the horse. With each step, the world around Jo grew darker and darker, but the young girl was too focused on the distressed animal to be bothered by it. Even as the shadows grew more and more menacing, she pressed on until she stood right before the animal as it struggled against the metal contraption that held it in place. “Hold still, will ya..” Jo muttered, trying to get to the horse’s injured leg. With every step she took forward, the horse thrashed about further. It threw its head back with a loud whinny and attempted to rear back in fear but found itself unable to due to its current predicament.

Jo put her hands up and repeated noises she’d heard from ranch hands in town. “Easy, easy..” She said with varying degrees of confidence as she attempted to ease the horse into a calmer state. After a couple more untrusting snorts were tossed her way, the horse settled and allowed her to approach. “There ya are. I got ya.” Her hands reached up to take the horse’s face in her hands, gently rubbing its nose to gain some trust from the creature. In response, the pale creature licked and chewed. Jo smiled and gave it an encouraging pat. 

With the thrashing subsided, Jo was able to slowly navigate to the bear trap. She leaned down, hand running down the horse’s leg as she did to avoid spooking the creature further, and assessed the bear trap for a moment. Her mind desperately tried to recall how the traps functioned, drawing on the couple of times she’d seen local hunters use them. With a dissatisfied ‘humph’, she resorted to reaching down and just pulling on the metal jaws stuck around the horse’s foot. Thankfully, the rusted metal was weak enough that it creaked for a moment before snapping under her force. This, however, sliced metal across the young girl’s hand, causing her to hiss and recoil from the contraption. The horse stomped about in response. 

“Oh, quit your hollerin’, I ain’t hurt ya.” Jo huffed, holding her hand as the dark red liquid pooled in her hand. She looked from it to the dirty wound on the horse’s leg before heaving a sigh and removing her cloak. “Well, c’mon.” She gestured for the horse to follow and continued through the tall grass in search of some water. The horse silently obliged with only its awkward gait to hold it from walking alongside her.

The shadows grew darker and far more menacing as Jo waded through the grass. Determined to clean their wounds, she kept her eyes straight ahead. 

“If you stray from the path, get back on the road as quick as you can.” Mama said, earning a groan and an eye roll from Jo. “I’m serious, Jo. If you can’t find it, you keep your eyes straight and ignore anything you might think you hear.”

It took a bit, but eventually, Jo found a pond. With an excited squeak, she hustled over and removed her poncho to dip it in the water. The horse peeked at her curiously as she did. 

“Here, we’ll wrap ya up nicely.” Jo explained, showing the horse her wet poncho before heading over to the horse’s injured leg. The creature regarded her with confusion, its head bending around to follow her as she made her way around it. Kneeling down, she wrapped the poncho around the horse’s leg and tied it tightly to secure it. She then tottered back to the water side, dipped her hand with another pained hiss, then stood up to shake it dry. “Right, then. Let’s head off.” 

Turning on her heel, Jo led the horse directly back the way they came. Only the path seemed to have changed. Perhaps the growing darkness or the overhanging fear was clouding her thoughts but Jo found herself confused and lost in the tall grass as she desperately tried to wade her way back. The road was gone. But it was just right here..Right?

Jo turned and whipped her head around in every direction. The tall grass swayed back and forth in wind she couldn’t feel as panic began to rise in her. Everywhere she looked, the scenery looked the same. It wasn’t possible she’d strayed that far from the road..right? It was just a short walk to the pond, how had she gotten so lost? Her small chest heaved as the sound of her heartbeat in her head suddenly overshadowed any odd creaks or calls the forest made. The already dark shadows started to grow darker.

Tap. Tap.

The feeling of something pressing twice into her back grounded her. The darkness was still encroaching, but at least she could hear again.

Tap. Snort. Tap.

Jo looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with the great beast she had strayed from the path to help. The horse snorted again, tossing its head up and down in a specific direction. Jo was confused. 

“Huh?” Was all she managed, turning her head in the direction the horse seemed to be throwing its head at. “What? You know the way back to the trail, or something?” She asked, yellow eyes flicking back to make eye contact with the horse’s red ones. 

The horse whinnied a reply before snorting in the girl’s face. Jo recoiled in disgust and used the back of her hand to wipe herself clean. When she removed her hand, the horse had started to walk in the direction it had indicated. 

“Hey! You good-fer-nothin’ beast! Wait for me!” She called as she picked up a light jog to catch up to the creature. With no other leads, she decided to follow the horse. At least, she thought, there’d be something else for the monsters to attack if it came down to it. 

The walk had felt like hours. Jo’s feet dragged through dirt and sticks while the horse, that she’d started calling Bear Trap during their walk, continued to lead her through the shadows without so much as a brief startle. Bear Trap walked with a limp, due to the wound it had sustained, but this made it easier for Jo’s short legs to keep up with the horse’s strides. She’d gotten so tired of walking, that she almost didn’t notice when the shadows began to let up and the air around her felt lighter. When she looked up, she saw the sunset painting the sky with pinks and oranges that let her know she was safe. With an excited squeal, she threw her hat to the sky and jumped around while cheering about how they’d made it home.

From there, the walk back to Jo’s actual home was not very long. She had promised Bear Trap some sugar cubes and apple slices as a reward for leading her out of the darkness, so the horse was eager to follow her home. Once in sight of the house, Jo’s mother came darting out the front door to tackle her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Miss Johanna, where have you been?” Mama  scolded, pulling her to arm’s length and holding her by the shoulders. “You’re supposed to be back here before the sun touches the horizon. Where have you been?!” She shook Jo a bit, as if the motion would shake out a full explanation. 

“Mama! Mama! You’re shakin’ me!” Jo’s voice wobbled out. Mama stopped shaking her. “Mama, I found this horse. He needed help. I’m callin’ him Bear Trap.” Jo gestured to the horse that snorted in reply. Mama’s eyes went wide before she quickly pulled Jo behind her. 

“Where in the hells did you find this thing, Johanna?” Mama asked while firmly holding Jo behind her and refusing to break eye contact with whatever this thing was. Jo struggled against her grip. 

“I found him while out today! Let go, Mama!”

“Absolutely not!” Mama began to shoo off the horse with her free hand. The large sweeping motion easily scared off most horses but Bear Trap snorted and stepped forward. Mama stepped back.

“Mama, he was hurt! Look at his leg, it's all nasty and bloody!” Jo whined, still trying to fight her way out of Mama’s firm grip. Mama’s gaze briefly glanced down to the horse’s leg, noticing where Jo’s poncho was wrapped and soaked in dark blood. She let out a long, defeated sigh.

“I ain’t takin’ care of it.” Mama said, loosening her grip on Jo long enough for the girl to slip out from behind her and run to the horse’s side. Jo wrapped her arms around the horse’s chest. “Bear Trap will be all your responsibility, ya hear?”

“Yes, Mama, I got it.” Jo nodded profusely while giggling into the horse’s side. Mama ran a hand over her face. 

“Shackin’ up with a monster, ain’t I..” Mama muttered before turning to head back inside. “Wash up for supper once you’ve got that leg cleaned. There’s old horse tack in the shed.”

[library-of-crow]

5+1: Billy and Aviva

Generally speaking, there was no Billy without Aviva. This information was widely known to any who crossed paths with him. As they listened to endless stories about her beauty or were incessantly reminded of her many strengths and talents, it was quickly made apparent the depth of love he held for his Aviva. 

Casual ‘I love yous’ were popular between the two. He reminded her of this fact daily, perhaps even hourly, and she’d return every single one. That being said, there was a time before domesticity settled and Billy struggled more with the concept of love and feelings. 

Here are five times Billy didn’t say ‘I love you’ and the one time it mattered the most. 

The first time was not long after they’d reunited. It had taken Billy some time to find Aviva after she finished school but he was determined to keep his promise. Granted, he barely knew her outside the couple of weeks she’d spent stopping by his cage and extending the first kind hand he’d seen in awhile. That, however, was enough for him to come crawling back like a wild animal that had gotten a taste of domestic life. 

When he found her, he joined her travels. It was awkward at first. He didn’t talk much, she couldn’t talk forever, they both understood this. Yet, eventually, their conversations grew longer and Billy’s more curious side overtook them. He asked her all sorts of things that were otherwise mundane to Aviva. Why would you use a fork? What made trees grow so tall? How could she love a fruit?

“What do you mean?” She asked, the pleasant sound of her amused laughter filling the space over the crackle of the fire. 

“They rot and sour over time.” Billy shook his head, sticking his tongue out from behind his mask. “Terrible thing to travel with. No sense in enjoying them.”

“Well, you can enjoy them before then. Besides, some soured fruits can be turned into new things. Just because something’s gone bad, doesn’t mean it's without any value.” She shook her head lightly, that smile never leaving her face. “And you can love things that are not perfect all the time. You just have to love them in spite of that.” 

At that moment, Billy felt something inside him shift. He stared at her for a moment, listening to her light chuckle and truly taking in the way that the flames flickered off her face. Did that mean she could love other things that weren’t necessarily perfect? He wondered if he could too. He wondered if he should tell her that he could love her like she loved fruits, but decided not to. 

The second time was over a meal at an inn. It was late. The two had been traveling together now for a little over a month. Billy had removed his mask before and occasionally left it off when they walked alone. Here, he wore it. 

“It's going to be difficult to eat with that on, and I know you’re starving.” Aviva pointed at him with her fork. Her eyes were sunken with exhaustion but her teasing smile lit up the space between them. Still, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“I’m not starving.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m-” His stomach interrupted him. Proudly, she pointed at him again and didn’t have to say anything. He groaned. “Not here.” He gestured to the fairly busy inn with his head. Too many eyes.

"Alright, then.” Aviva stood up. Her form was followed by a confused set of eyes as she grabbed both of their plates and began towards the exit. “Well? Come on.” Obediently, he stood and followed her out. She didn’t stop until they were around the side of the inn, in the shadow of the building, with nothing but the moonlight to illuminate the both of them. Only then did she sit down, legs crossed and unbothered by the dirt. She gestured for him to do the same. He did.

“Why?” Billy asked, accepting his plate of food from her hands. 

“So you can take off the mask. Now eat.” She urged, returning to her own food without a second thought. Confused, Billy hesitated. He waited for the inevitable negative side effect that he expected from moments like these. It never came. Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask. His eyes never left her as he folded it and set it aside to move for his first bite of food. She didn’t return the eye contact, instead focusing on eating her own meal.

This continued for a few bites until Billy fully believed that she meant him no harm. The two ate in silence, protected by the walls of the inn but otherwise hidden from view, and Billy felt comfortable in a way he’d only ever felt around Aviva. He thought back to things he’d learned from her and considered breaking the silence to tell her that he loved her for doing something like this for him. He settled for, “thank you,” whispered softly in her head. 

The third time occurred when Billy somehow found himself in the presence of high society. It was the first time Aviva had been summoned back home and insisted that Billy joined her. The last time, he resisted and opted to wait in a nearby town until she was ready to leave, but this time she’d convinced him to join her through a series of well thought out promises to be fulfilled. Most of them involved foods he enjoyed, at least one involved a basket of his new favorite fruit. Now, however, as he stood in the stuffy reception hall surrounded by little girls staring at him with wide eyes, he wondered if it was a good idea.

“Why are they staring at me?” His voice reached into Aviva’s head, earning him only a stifled laugh in return. “I fail to see the humor in this.”

“They’re just curious about a new face.” Aviva crossed over to where he stood and ruffled the twins’s hair before shooing them off with gentle shoves towards the other end of the hall. “They won’t bother you too much. Maybe a little bit, but not too much.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled a little bit. Billy did his best to remain stoic but the corner of his mouth twitched up in betrayal. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” He questioned, rolling his eyes a bit to return to his more natural grumpy state. This earned him a firm pat on the chest as Aviva then turned to go about doing her own thing.

“No, they don’t.” She called over her shoulder, waving to him as she headed down the hall. He looked to either side, noting the soft sound of giggling children from behind a nearby pillar, then chased after her to avoid further interactions from the kids. 

As expected, Billy found himself constantly looking over his shoulder. The soft pitter patter of little feet running off would always sound when he turned in any direction. He’d killed horrors beyond anyone’s comprehension but children were an entirely new beast to conquer. Following a stiff and extremely uncomfortable family dinner, he’d followed Aviva for a walk around the castle to detox from the encounter. As expected, they were never truly alone.

“And then, of course, we could-” Aviva halted mid-sentence. Billy moved to speak but she put a hand up to stop him before bringing it to her lips in a soft ‘shush’. He didn’t fully understand it. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to talk out loud. “There.” She pointed with the same finger that had hushed him to a set of suspiciously lumpy curtains. The curtains giggled quietly before hushing themselves. Without saying anything, Aviva stepped lightly in their direction. The giggling swelled. “It's rude to,” she threw the curtains back to reveal the twins clinging to one another in a fit of laughter, “eavesdrop on people!” 

Billy watched with a tilted head as she jokingly scolded them, earning more laughter and mock salutes in return. When she invited them to join their walk, he groaned softly to himself but followed along nevertheless. The conversation shifted towards extravagant stories that held their sparkling eyes on Aviva as they walked. Billy trailed silently behind, lest he startle the girls with a voice in their heads. 

“What about him?” Aiyane asked bluntly, pointing in Billy’s direction as they slowed to a stop. Instinctively, Billy looked behind him then turned back pointing to himself. “What is he?” Aviva scolded her candid question and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“This is Billy, you met him earlier.” She reintroduced him, circling around him and giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. He straightened. A couple bones in his back cracked. 

“Okay?” Aeries looked unimpressed. “Does he like, love you or something?” 

The world faded to a distant echo for a moment as Billy mulled the question over. Vaguely, he could hear Aviva once again scolding the girls for being so outright, but it was no more than a whisper in the back of his mind. Did he love her? What is it to love someone? Like really love someone? No, he really shouldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to her. His eyes flicked around as he thought it over. Aiyane noticed this. Billy said nothing. 

The fourth time was back on the road. More specifically in the middle of a fight against some particularly nasty creatures. The two of them were ankle deep in gore and death when an ogre joined the fray. They were both exhausted, having taken numerous hits over the course of the fight, and neither was in any shape to take on a creature quite so large. With no other choice but to fight, they got to work on the beast. Each of them hacked and slashed until they could feel their arms holding on by a mere tether. Then, it all went wrong. 

Billy, from the other side of the beast, heard a stuttering noise and a quiet ‘shit’ spilling from Aviva’s mouth. Something had jammed Intervention. She was kneeling, prepared to shoot the creature for a finishing blow when it happened, so the sound was quick to alert the beast to her predicament. 

“Aviva, move!” He yelled, watching her head shoot up to see the creature approaching her with its weapon held high. She scrambled, trying to get out of the way as Billy moved to make an attack. As if swatting a fly, the ogre sent Billy into a tree with a branch firmly implanted in his back. The pain was excruciating but he felt nothing as he desperately tried to push himself up and rush back to her side. He was too slow.

Aviva had hesitated when Billy went flying, putting her in a less than favorable position as the ogre reeled his weapon back and struck her down. Billy didn’t hear anything from her as her body slumped to the ground and immediately feared the worst. With a devastating scream, he ripped himself from the tree and felt dark energy surge and crackle through his body. His veins blackened as every eyeball on his body turned to watch as an eldritch blast ripped from his soul and tore through the ogre as if it was nothing. The eyeballs cheered him on, their voices meddling in his mind like swarming rats. His throat constricted as he felt Seiran’s grasp on him tighten but he didn’t care. Two more bolts sent pieces of the ogre flying across the woods before Billy was finally brought to his knees. 

The world was hazy as he desperately tried to catch his breath. “Aviva..” He called, hands gripping the dirt as he forced himself to crawl towards her. He felt his body ache and tire but he pressed onwards until he made it to her side. He cradled her head with bloodied hands, brushing her hair from her face. Even with blood dripping from the crown of her head, she was soft and beautiful. His head dropped to touch her forehead to his own, wrapping her close to himself in a protective hold. “Aviva.. Please…” He sounded again, wanting any sort of reply. 

Aviva’s hand twitched ever so slightly. He caught sight of it just out of the corner of his eye. He dipped down further, pressing his ear to her chest to check for a heartbeat. The soft, rhythmic sound came as a comfort. He felt his entire body relax. He was spent but he couldn’t leave her side, not like this. “Aviva, I-” He started to croon into her neck, picking her body up slightly to find solace in listening to her pulse there. Aviva groaned. He stopped short of finishing his sentence.

“Bloody- What in the hells happened?” She asked, groaning but otherwise staying limp in his arms. He got the feeling it was more comfortable that way. The sound of her voice, however hoarse it was, sent relief through his body. He peeled her back far enough to just look at her. 

“You died.” He joked.

“So it seems. I’ve found myself in the arms of an angel.” She retorted, smiling at him.

Billy said nothing.

The fifth time happened much later in their time together. By now, the two of them walked and talked like an old married couple. Everyone they crossed paths with assumed they were together but the two of them had never felt the need to define their relationship any further. They took pleasure in each other’s company and that seemed to be enough. This night was unlike any other as they sat around a dwindling campfire and watched the embers spark and jump in the darkness.

“Tomorrow, we should get a room at an inn.” Billy’s voice broke the quiet as he stretched his arms above his head with a resounding crack as his elbows straightened. Aviva watched with a bemused smile.

“What happened to the man that preferred ‘roughing it’? You used to scoff at the thought of a bed, gods forbid we have a roof.” She wiggled her fingers at him with a laugh. His head tilted ever so slightly as he fondly listened to the sound. He never tired of hearing it.

“That man is dead. I want a feathered bed.” This threw Aviva into a fit of laughter as she doubled over and slapped the log she sat atop. He wasn’t the joking type but his attempts at humor were always well received by her. She had told him once that it made her feel closer to him. He huffed a chuckle but was far more captivated in watching the way the fire danced on her features. He cursed the shadows that hid parts of her face but praised the ones that highlighted every crease of her smile and squint of her eyes. 

“Hey? Come on back now.” Aviva had calmed her laughing and was wiping tears from her eyes when she noticed him drifting off. She waved a hand in his face, to which he jumped a bit and turned away. “You’ve been doing that a lot recently. Dazing off, staring forward. You alright?” She asked with hints of concern permeating her tone as she leaned forward to stare back at him.

“Fine.” He attested but firmly avoided looking back her way. A small part of him was grateful for his strange undead status. He didn’t exactly blush because of it. “Just tired.”

“Then you should head to sleep. I’ll take first watch.” She reached forward and prodded at the fire while he pushed to his feet and crossed to her side. He wouldn’t argue with a bit of sleep. At least, not anymore.

“Goodnight Aviva, I-” He looked down as he started to pass her. She looked up. There was a twinkle of expectation in her eye as she stared at him just waiting for the end of his sentence. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He patted the top of her head lightly before continuing on his way. She nodded, humming her response with a subtle smirk on her face. 

Aviva would never tell him that she heard him cursing himself as he walked off.

The one time his confession mattered, was long after the two of them had pursued a romantic relationship. In fact, they were long married and doting ‘I love yous’ were so common between the couple that they hardly seemed significant when they were exchanged. They took the place of farewells and greetings. They were peppered in between kisses and shared in quiet secrets. Billy even went as far as dropping them in Aviva’s head though the two were on opposite sides of the castle. There certainly were perks to his strange abilities. 

All in all, the pair were happy. Billy was happy so long as he had Aviva nearby. For awhile, even, he had forgotten the pact he was ensnared in as he let his warlock duties slip into the back of his mind. Aviva had taken precedence. 

Unfortunately, ignoring a pact was no way to go about escaping it. Tired of his thralls slipping away, Seiran yanked Billy’s chain. The lich had brought him into his realm for the first time in a while and brought him to his knees. Billy’s body burned as iron chains held him in place and wires crushed his throat.

“You will not disobey me again. Should you even consider it, I will burn everything you hold dear.” Seiran’s voice sliced through him like the sharpest blades. His resolve buckled under the weight of fear.

When he returned to Aviva, he clung to her in a way she’d never seen from him. His hands shook as his grip on her clothing went knuckle white. For once, she didn’t know what to say. 

The next few weeks were dedicated to brainstorming ways to free him of his pact. Billy, naturally, didn’t participate in these conversations and instead was the perfect little warlock to appease his nasty patron. Aviva led these discussions, asking Anri and Nerys for their thoughts, reading extensively on warlock pacts, eventually ending up at Wyn’s door.

“Have you considered the Raven Queen?” Wyn asked with the subtle tilt of her head. Aviva mimicked it in a questioning gesture. “She’s mentioned him before.”

“We’re trying to get him out of a pact. I’d prefer not to throw him into another one.” 

“Wouldn’t be one.” Wyn said firmly, taking Aviva’s arm to walk with her. Aviva didn’t resist. She’d piqued her interest. As they walked, Wyn clarified that the Raven Queen could protect Billy from Seiran while asking for very little in return. She explained that the Matron had allegedly taken notice of Billy, as his mere existence was enough to land him on her radar. While Aviva wouldn’t have made a decision without consulting Billy first, this route felt the most viable for ensuring he was safe and happy. 

That night, she brought it up to him.

“I thought I was getting out of a pact, not-”

“It's not a pact.” Billy cocked an eyebrow. How’d she know he was going to say that? “It's a way for us to keep you safe and keep Seiran off your back.” She explained, before delving into the semantics Wyn outlined to her before. She paced around their shared room as she spoke while Billy watched her from his seat on the edge of the bed. 

Before either of them knew it, they were standing in a large room. At the front stood an altar to the Raven Queen and Wyn to the side of it. Billy had been ushered to the center of the room as Wyn recited some words that Billy didn’t fully understand. He looked back at Aviva, who smiled at him encouragingly, then up towards Wyn. Only when he turned, he was met with the visage of a large white mask peering down at him. The floor below him gave way to reveal himself held gingerly in a pair of great hands. 

No words were exchanged as he stared up at the Matron, entirely awestruck by what he was staring at. The moment he moved to speak, he felt something tighten on his throat. He reached up to feel an iron collar sizzling his neck, connected to a long chain that vanished into oblivion after a certain point. Another white hand wordlessly reached and crushed the chain to dust. Its particles turned to black feathers that rained onto his body from above. Air rushed through him as the collar disappeared and he felt himself overcome with a strange new sensation: safety. The bone wings on his back flapped, revealing themselves to be freshly coated with feathers he’d lost long ago. Hands touched at his torso, now devoid of peering eyes and coated only with the scars he’d received over time. Checking his shoulders, he saw smooth skin where horns had once protruded. She’d let him keep the ones on his head, though, he couldn’t help but like those. 

Billy started to thank her, to swear fealty, to bend the knee in her service, but was interrupted as a wave of understanding washed over him. Nothing needed to be said. His eyes fell shut and when they reopened, he was back in that room with his lover standing above him. 

“Billy? Billy? Are you alright?” Aviva’s face was twisted in fear and concern that he could just barely see through his squinted eyes. He couldn’t recall at what point he’d ended up on the ground, but he was there now. “Billy, please, are you alright?” She repeated as he started to blink more and return to the present moment. 

As if it was second nature, Billy started to open his mouth in reply. Then he paused. Why had he done that? Could he.. No, he couldn’t possibly. A sound croaked from his throat and he looked surprised for a moment. Aviva was confused but she didn’t let go of his hand as he propped himself up and turned his wide eyed stare her way.

“..Vi..va..” Billy barely managed, his voice hoarse from decades without use. “..Lo..Lov..” He grimaced, agitation present on his features. Why was talking so hard? He took a deep breath, calming himself and turning his attention back to her. 

“I.. Lo-Love you..” It was awkward as he opened his mouth in odd shapes to try and approximate the sounds, but the point got across. “I love..you.” He repeated, this time with more confidence. “I love you.” He said again, his voice beginning to sound more and more like his own.

Aviva was awestruck. He could speak. For a second, she didn’t say anything. Eventually, her shocked expression broke into a wide smile as she tackled him back to the ground with her arms wrapped around his neck. Billy hit the ground with a soft ‘oof,’ but was quick to wrap his arms around her in return.

“I love you, too..” She whispered, squeezing him gently. The first words he’d spoken, and they were meant just for her. 

“I love you..” He continued repeating as his eyes fell shut. “I love you.” He nestled into the crook of her neck. “I love you, Aviva.” He squeezed her close, but this time he wasn’t afraid to lose her. This time, he was just happy to have her near.

[library-of-crow]

searching for some gems from the finale of the Princess Hunt campaign and finding this

Valdoria: "And we talked about it and she told me everything and I-I understood and I felt like I just... 3%."

Sam: "3%?"

Valdoria: "3%."

Sam: "What does that mean?"

Valdoria: "That's the chance that I make it through this. That's the chance that you recreate that scene. You put that blade in its sheath in my chest, and I make it out, and I'm okay."

A pause.

Valdoria: "And it's a small number. I thought it'd be a lot bigger."

Sam laughs.

Valdoria: "But it's okay! Um. It's okay! I've come to terms with it. I'm, uh, I'm okay! Sometimes, you know..."

Another pause.

Valdoria: "Sometimes being a hero, you know, is letting someone else take the reins.. And, uh, reign supreme!" Forced laugh. "And you're very strong."

Sam: "I..I don't think I'm strong enough for that Dory."

Valdoria: "No, I think you are."

[library-of-crow]

Nerys Comes to Visit

The soft crackle of the fireplace could barely be heard over the rampant giggling that plagued the small cottage. There, Nerys and her husband ran laps around their kitchen and living room, chasing Kazamir as he shrieked with delight. It had started as a game of tag, at least it allegedly had been at some point, but a quick truce between the two adults had them immediately teaming up against their young son in the chase of a lifetime. Of course the dining table had foiled one previous attempt to grab him, while the couch stopped another, but the game was lively as ever as they darted at one another. Eventually, the cry of a baby in the other room signaled to Leonidas that it was time to bring the chase to a close and, in one smooth motion, he grabbed his son out of mid-air and threw him over his shoulder. Kazamir’s laughter echoed throughout the cottage’s walls as he allowed himself to be captured while Nerys straightened and took a couple of moments to catch her breath. Her and Leonidas exchanged a smile in unspoken understanding before she trotted off to tend to the whining toddler in the other room.

Nerys greatly enjoyed their little cottage. It wasn’t too large but it was a perfect fit for her little family. It was warm in the winters, just far enough away from town that it was quiet, but close enough that they would never have to worry about goods or supplies. It was, for all intents and purposes, a very homey home. Granted, it had taken much effort on Leo’s part to convince Nerys to settle in one spot. Having lived so much of her life on the move, she wasn’t comfortable with remaining sedentary, but a couple long conversations talked her into the little cottage they shared now. Nerys was exceedingly grateful for those conversations, having grown spoiled on not having to pitch tents or worry about sinking into muddy ground as she slept.

Following the events that overturned the rule of Anri’s mother, she was given an invitation to move into the castle.

“There’d be plenty of room for you, Leo, and Kaz,” Anri had told her once things had settled down enough to concern themselves with such matters. 

“I’ll think about it,” she’d told him.

But her mind was made up early on. 

The castle was grand. It shone with a beauty Nerys had only seen in the Astral Sea or her fondest dreams. Just standing in it made her feel out of place, as if she was treading somewhere fit only for myths and legends. She relished the time she spent within its walls, imagining what it would be like to be the heroine of her favorite stories, to languish at the tall windows, to dance through the garden. It was truly a wonderful place, but not to live in. Not for her, that is.

She craved the woods, the dirt, the simplicity of life in a small cottage with just enough room for the love she had to give. Ultimately, she wasn’t suited to a place like this, no matter how much she tried.

It broke her heart to leave Anri. Her chest had felt heavy the entire last day they had lived together as she repeatedly found small things left to-do in order to stall the inevitable. She’d completely unpacked bags, insisted that certain plants needed to be tended to, sent Kaz off to hide for a bit, and even resorted to retying her shoe but the time for goodbye finally came. Kissing each of his temples and finally his forehead, Nerys swore three times over that she’d be back to visit. Her heart ached at first but she found solitude in looking back and seeing he wasn’t alone in that grand castle. 

At least there’d be people to look after her boy, she thought, and settled into the journey ahead.

Only, that was years ago. Since then, Kaz had grown taller, Leo had grown a beard, and Nerys had grown another child. The family had gone out to visit the castle multiple times over the last few years, sometimes altogether, other times in smaller groups, but never letting anything stand in the way of a visit. That is, until Ourania came about. At first, Nerys insisted that having a kid wouldn’t make the journey anymore difficult. She was quickly proven wrong on their next trip out and, unfortunately, wasn’t able to visit for nearly a year. 

It was driving her mad. She missed Anri and their friends. She fretted over what could have happened in that time as Leo rubbed her back and assured her that they absolutely would have gotten in contact with her first. Nerys was never fully convinced. 

Having fed and changed the baby, Nerys rejoined her husband and son, who had settled on the couch to wind down after the excitement of the evening. Behind them, several packs, each labeled with the first initial of its owner, sat piled up and ready for the trip to the mountains. The second Nerys felt it was safe for Ourania and herself, she planned a visit. Kaz’s eyes grew heavy as he leaned into his father’s side, who had already begun closing the book he’d been reading from while they waited for Nerys to return.

“Why don’t you head to bed.” Nerys whispered, running her hand through Kaz’s hair softly. The boy leaned into her touch for a moment before hauling himself up off the couch. He rubbed at his heavy eyes, whispering a goodnight to each of his parents before dragging his feet on the way to his bedroom. Again, Leo and Nerys shared a look. The proud smirk on Nerys’s face told him that she was happy that her plan to tire him out so he slept like a rock before they left worked like a charm. His returned smirk told her that he could not wait to get in bed to sleep like a very similar rock. 

To say the journey was arduous would be an overstatement. After all, they’d made it so many times before, so getting to the Vervaat’s castle was practically second-nature at this point. That being said, they’d never made the trip with a baby, as Kaz had been much older the first time he’d made the trip, and that put a bit of a damper on their travel plans. Nevertheless, the family made it in one piece.

In a rush of excitement, Nerys took off ahead of Leo and Kaz, who hardly flinched when she did so. She ran and ran and didn’t stop running until her feet brought her to the person she’d missed most of all. 

Now, Nerys hadn’t meant to surprise him but when a small, blue woman shrouded by pelts and cloaks comes darting at you with no prior warning, it's hard not to be a tad bit surprised. Still, Anri was quick to right himself after being suddenly engulfed in Nerys’s tight embrace and wrapped his arms around her as well. Nerys pulled back only a small bit to hold his cheeks in her hands and pepper small kisses on every inch of his face, muttering ‘I missed you’ between every few. Finally, she placed one long kiss on forehead before tapping it with her own and releasing him from her captivity. 

“I have so many things to tell you! It has been a busy year. Sorry I didn’t write much, I was very tired like all the time, but I totally meant to. Also I-”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Anri interrupted, knowing that her rambling would carry on endlessly if he didn’t. He gave her a smile, that she excitedly returned, before reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair slightly.

“Oh, and I-” Nerys paused, her face twisting in thought. She spun around as though she was looking for something before returning her attention to Anri. “Where’s Wyn?” 

Anri feigned an eye roll. He opened his mouth to make some witty remark about how quickly she’d moved on from his company but was cut off by a squeal that rang out from behind him. As if on schedule, Wyn appeared and immediately rushed towards Nerys. For a moment, they were glad Nerys didn’t wear any lipstick, otherwise evidence of her arrival would have trailed across the castle’s inhabitants. 

“Okay, okay, okay, but I do actually have something like very exciting to show you guys.” Nerys said, breaking up her greeting with Wyn and pulling them both close together. By this point, Leo and Kaz had also arrived and were about to start greeting Anri and Wyn, but their attention was fixated on Nerys. After all, she’d built up all this tension, whatever she had to share had to be good. Right?

She cleared her throat and stood up straight. 

“Anri, my dear boy. Wyn, my dear sister. I would like you to meet…” She trailed off momentarily to snatch the bundle off her back and unwrap it, revealing a small blue baby that giggled and cooed at the pair before her. “Baby!!” She said proudly, holding her daughter in front of her in a flashy manner. Leo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

Wyn was enraptured. Anri swore he saw stars in her eyes as she wiggled her finger at the baby. Ourania reached for Wyn, successfully grabbing the wiggling finger and immediately moving to put it in her mouth. Wyn played along just long enough but pulled away before the baby’s budding teeth could sink into her skin. 

“Wow, so there’s another another you, now. Huh.” Anri chuckled, delicately running a finger over the baby’s arm. He noted how soft and, more importantly, blue it was. It was amazing how much the kid already looked like her mother. “So, what’s her name?” He asked, gaze flicking to Nerys. Her attention was glued on the baby as she made little noises at her to keep her entertained.

“Ourania. Leo’s mother’s name.”

“Ooh.. Hello Ourania, I’m Wynlara.” With two fingers, Wyn shook the baby’s hand. Ourania just gurgled in response. Anri introduced himself as well, earning a giggle. Wyn cast him a brief jealous look to which Anri returned a smug smile. 

Having been adequately introduced to the baby, Nerys allowed the rest of her family to come forth and greet Wyn and Anri as well. Upon seeing Kaz, Anri called out for the twins and inadvertently got the attention of the rest of the crew. His siblings stumbled out from various places and Nerys was quick to greet them with Ourania. Kaz was grateful for the baby, this meant he could hide behind his father’s legs for just a little while longer. Gale, who had Aiyane and Aerise over either of his shoulders, nearly dropped them in excitement when he saw the baby. He didn’t but did set them down with a fervor so his hands could be free to make faces at the child.

Aviva and Billy joined the gathering next. As she did with Anri and Wyn, Nerys hugged each of them and kissed their cheeks. Aviva laughed throughout it, Billy was too surprised to react. Nerys instinctively reached to her back to show off the baby but found it bare. Ah yes, she’d handed the baby off. 

“One moment, don’t move.” She said, navigating the group until she was standing before Wyn. Ah yes, right where she’d left her. Returning to the pair, baby now in hand, she repeated the process of introducing her to them. 

Billy wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten roped into holding Ourania, but he surely was at one point. That is, until her small hand grasped very tightly around his short hair and began to pull. Since then, Aviva was expertly holding her in one arm as Nerys flitted excitedly from person to person. Billy was quiet next to her as he rubbed the spot on his head where the baby had nearly taken a chunk of his hair right off his scalp. 

Eventually the welcome party came to a close and Nerys took Ourania off for a nap. The group dispersed, promising to have a proper family dinner that night. The twins eventually were able to drag Kaz off to play while Leo had followed Aviva and Billy, who had offered to help carry the family’s things, off to their usual room. Nerys, now alone, found Anri walking the halls on his own. She slid up next to him, bumping his hip with her own to get his attention. Anri laughed and pushed her away by the head.

“It's been way too long, I don’t like being away from you like that.” Nerys said as she fell back into step with him. She watched as a small smile spread across his face. She adored it when he smiled.

“Agreed. Don’t stay gone that long again. Don’t go having babies without telling anyone.” Anri punctuated his demands with a nod that feigned sincerity and a finger wiggled in her face. Nerys stuck her tongue out in response. Anri rolled his eyes, attempting to upkeep the serious charade but failing as soon as Nerys erupted into laughter. The sound was too often contagious.

“This place is looking nicer everytime I come, you know.” Nerys finally said, elbowing him lightly in the arm. “It's always warm now. It feels more..” she paused to tap her chin, “homey.”

“Homey?” Anri questioned. “It is my home, I would hope it feels homey.”

“It's a lot of people’s home now.” She corrected. 

“Right.”

“A lot of people that love it. I think that’s what it is.” Nerys wasn’t often serious, but the way she spoke was heavy with a wistful appreciation for the place they’d built. “This place is full of love.”

“You’re right.” Anri’s smile met his eyes. “I don’t think I realized it could feel like that here.” He looked around at the hall way they walked down. For a moment, he took in the details of the walls, the carpets, the curtains. The little things that made this place what it was. The little things that held in them so much horror, that had seen so much tragedy, but stood still as pieces of the home they’d all built. He felt Nerys’s hand rest on his arm so he turned back to look at her. Her eyes were glassy.

“I’m glad they’re keeping an eye on my boy.” Tears pricked at her eyes, but they weren’t sad. Nerys was filled with pride. Mainly for Anri, for the person she’d watch him become, for the home she’d seen him build. All she’d ever wanted was his happiness, and he’d found that. 

Anri didn’t say anything. Instead he reached a hand out to pull Nerys into a hug, resting his head on the top of hers.

[library-of-crow]

PLS, can you do prompts where a character ACCIDENTALLY confesses their love?

love confessions (accidentally)

cw: cursing (?) feel free to use!

making out and laughing, pulling away and looking into their eyes, admiring the way they’ve gotten wide, the ways their cheeks are that one shade of pink, the slightly parted lips, the messy hair, and realising there’s no where they would rather be “i think im falling in love with you”

a classic; “-BECAUSE I LOVE YOU” “..you..what”

“i think..you’re my favourite person. there is no one i would rather be with right now or..ever”

“-i have come to a conclusion” “which is?” “i am allergic to them” “…excuse me” “i am allergic to them” ( . “FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD DUDE YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH THEM)

^ “no no dont be silly when i go near them i feel this weird feeling and its very..warm..i dont know how else to describe it” *cue the friend banging their head against the wall*

alt^: “..and oh my god im in love with them” “THANK YOU”

“they told me they loved me” “and what did you say?”

“i panicked”

“you love me?”

^ “oh my god i shouldn’t have- ive made things awkward- forget that ever happ- “name. i love you too” “-please just forge- wait what”

“im sorry i just..dont feel the same way. yet”

ok so one confessing, and the other being like i dont YET and its. chill. like ok i am getting there im just not there yet you know. they still care about them. a lot

“i tend to have that effect on people”

practising how to confess to someone, but they end up watching/hearing the entire thing accidentally

not saying anything, but just looking into each others eyes and just knowing

[library-of-crow]

How Rogues Mourn

“If you were just going to come into work and sulk in the corner, I would have preferred you to just not come.” Click’s annoyed voice broke the unusually heavy quiet of the workshop. Trick sat with their back to him, ears flopped over and body slouched on a stool. Had Click not known any better, he would have thought he was working with a wet rag. 

Trick ignored his boss’s comment. Trick ignored most everything these days, Click saw that much. Instead, their body heaved another heavy sigh as they continued running their claws over a small mechanical scarab, outfitted with shiny blue wings that they’d spent days painting and re-painting to get just right. It was supposed to be a gift, so of course it had to be perfect.

A gift for Ibex.

Click knew, Trick had told him three days prior, but he’d just said it was a shame and moved on with his life. The way he’d shrugged, shook his head, and walked off had made Trick seethe, but who were they to change Click’s reaction? Ever since they were little Click had openly talked about how much he hated the both of them. “Damn good rogue, too bad they’re a pain in my ass and a thorn in my side.” He’d say, counting through coin that Ibex had brought in. Perhaps he was just relieved, Trick thought, to finally be free of the one thing that seemed to bring him so much grief and headache.

“Oi, cat. Make yourself useful, or beat it.” Click spoke again, this time getting up from his workbench to move some parts to another table. Trick listened as the sound of creaking metal accompanied Click’s uneven footsteps across the room before they began approaching Trick’s own workbench. “You’ve done nothing but mope for days, you’re backed up on work. Fix that.” Click picked up a project Trick was supposed to have been working on, examined it in its unfinishedness, and dropped it back on the table with a jingling sound. His voice was laced with disappointment. 

Trick bit their tongue as anger once again began to rise within them. They couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up, leave me alone.” Their voice was small and they couldn’t find the strength to turn and look at Click. Ibex was better at this. Ibex was always much better at this, and that’s why they were always the one that challenged Click. That’s why they were ten times the rogue Trick could ever even consider being. They were the one with the heart, the confidence, the unflinching resolve. They never needed Trick’s help with anything, but by the gods did Trick need them now.

“What did you say to me?” The jingling of metal stopped, indicating that Click had frozen in place. 

“I said, shut up and leave me alone.” This time they were more confident. Rolling their shoulder back slowly, Trick’s head turned slightly to look at their boss out of the side of their eye. Click’s face was twisted into a look of confusion under a thick layer of stoicism. “Do you want me to say it again, old man?”

“Trick.”

“I can repeat myself.”

“Trick.” They stopped, breath hitching in their throat. The air was thick as Trick finally turned to fully face Click, jumping off their stool and standing behind their workbench. “Just get back to work.” Click rolled his eyes, apparently not wanting to deal with whatever Trick was trying at the moment, before he began to return to his bench.

“Are you fucking serious?” The words fell out of Trick’s mouth before they even realized they were thinking them. Only then did they feel the tears pricking at their eyes. “Are you just going to pretend nothing’s changed?” The worst thing about the whole ordeal was the way Click moved on. It gutted Trick to come into work and watch Click go about like everything was normal. It felt like Ibex being gone hadn’t disturbed anything, but there was no way that was true. There was no way the world could simply continue to function without Ibex in it. The Encampment, hell maybe even the whole damn continent, should be bursting at the seams, desperate for Ibex to pull it all back together again, but it wasn’t. Everyone went about like nothing was wrong. It truly seemed like they were the only thing that felt completely broken without them around.

“Nothing has changed. Get back to work.” Click’s response was cold and unfeeling. It gave no respite to Trick’s pain. It paid no mind to Ibex.

“Work? Why the fuck would I do any work?” Trick asked through gritted teeth, feeling their seams come even further undone. “There’s no work for me without them around. I did all this for them.” A pained laugh choked out of them as they gestured to the projects that littered their space. Slapping the scarab on the table, Trick used their now free hands to claw at the face and eyes, as if it would stop the tears that had begun to fall at some point. Their insides felt tight and twisted. “Gods, would it fucking kill you to just pretend for a second that you miss them. That you cared at least about the money that they brought in for you.” 

Again, Click rolled his eyes. “This is about Ibex?”

“What the fuck, of course it is!” Trick threw their hands up in exasperation before slamming them on the table in front of them. Their eyes quickly shifted to thin slits as they stared down Click. The little scarab jumped as the table shook, one of its wings popping out from the sudden movement.

“And what do you want me to say? That they were like a child to me? That I loved and adored them so much and their death brings me unimaginable sorrow?” Click put his claws together and interlaced them in mock adoration before dropping the act to quickly cover it with a scowl and narrowed eyes. “That’d be a lie. They were a fine rogue but a pain in my ass and now they’re dead. Mov-”

“You old fucking cunt, I’m going to fucking kill you one day.”

“Well, now you’re starting to sound like them. Is that what you want?”

“Maybe it is! Maybe it fucking-” In one sudden swipe, Trick knocked everything off their workbench and scattered it to the floor below. The cacophony of metal hitting metal and earth rung out through the workspace like a screaming choir. “This is fucking bullshit!” They yelled, picking up the first blunt object they could find and taking it to pile with a scream. 

From there, they ripped down blueprints from the wall and tore them to shreds. They took any machine within reach and repeated the process of smashing it to the ground and beating it senseless all while letting out a feral scream that Click had only seen in the most desperate of his enemies. It took awhile for their vocal chords to give out. Trick could taste the blood in the back of their mouth but they were blinded by rage, pain, grief and every other emotion they’d been unable to feel since seeing Sable run back to camp on their own. Not long after their voice went, their arms began to give out too. The exhaustion set in as they fell to their knees amidst a pile of broken metal and stray bolts. For a second they were utterly silent and then they began to cry. 

Click averted his gaze and waited for the sobbing to cease, having made no movement for their entire temper tantrum. “Are you done?” He finally asked when Trick seemed to have calmed enough. Trick just nodded, no energy left in their body to fight anymore. “Go home. Mourn. Take the news to the capital. Come back when your  head’s on straight.” He watched as Trick wordlessly stood and trudged out of their workspace, letting the tent flap fall gently behind them. 

After a moment, he sighed, bringing his claws to pinch the top of his beak before approaching the mess Trick had left behind. He knelt down, assessing the damage and ruling most everything to be entirely ruined. Amidst the wreckage, he caught sight of a reflective blue color and leaned down to pick it up. There, among the rubble, was the scarab, now smashed to bits. Click remembered when Trick had first started working on it. It was one of their first individual projects and Click had walked them through how to make it, watching how excited they were to start a fun build to give Ibex. He turned the smashed creature over in his hands, noting all the little details Trick had added to make it just right for Ibex. The specifics of the blue, indentations on the wings for details, what looked to be an inscription that was now lost in the pile. It was made with a care that Click lacked in all his own work.

He sighed. There was a heavy feeling in his chest. He didn’t like it. He hadn’t felt it in decades but he knew it all too well. It was the sting of loss.

Gripping the last, hardly salvageable, piece of the scarab in his hand, he pushed himself up with a metal creak before maneuvering back to his desk just beyond the workspace. He sat and placed the scarab down gently, immediately pulling out parchment and a quill. 

How was he supposed to get in contact with Finny again?

[library-of-crow]

The Hate in Your Heart

“First, I was like ‘wham bam,’ then, a little ‘whupssh,’ topped it off with a final ‘ding dong!’” Arly flailed her arms around in various eccentric movements, supposedly recreating her spellcasting from earlier that day. Ildan couldn’t help but chuckle and roll his eyes at his beloved’s behavior from his place on the bed. She wasn’t entirely wrong, Ildan could admit that, but there was something endearing about all the silly ways she recounted their battles with a flair for dramtics and clothed only in her small clothes. Whether it be in the privacy of a shared inn room, as it was now, or around the campfire with the others, Arly had no shame in putting on a show when she discussed their adventures. 

“Yes, yes, you did well.” He pushed himself up and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “But what about me? Hm?” His hand found her chin, tilting it back to make her look up at him. There was a fraction of a moment, he was sure she’d kiss him then, but just before their lips met-

“Well you did fantastic! All like ‘shhhing shing!’” He fell forward slightly as she pulled from his grasp and returned to her flailing about. He shut his eyes for a moment, sighing tiredly, before straightening up and busying himself with pulling back his hair. Arly turned back to him, hands planted firmly on her sides and feet spread in an overconfident pose. “Especially when you said ‘go to hell, ugly bastard,’ and stabbed that one creature.” She put on a deeper voice, and mimed the motion of dramatically stabbing a sword before her firm posture fell apart as giggles wracked her body. Ildan couldn’t help but chuckle with her. 

“I don’t think I said that. Are you embellishing these tales now?” He moved to sit on the trunk at the foot of the bed, face twisting for a moment as he irritated an old injury. Gods, was he getting old? Arly followed suit, standing in front of him with one of her hands finding his hair and the other finding his shoulder. “Perhaps you should be a bard. My sweet birdie sings such beautiful songs.” He joked, earning a singular ‘ha!’ from Arly, resting his hands gently on her waist.

“You know what, maybe I’ll become one. Maybe I missed my true calling as an entertainer!” Arly raised her hands up, one splayed dramatically across her chest and the other held high as if she was orating a scene. The moment they left his skin, Ildan longed for their return. “I’ll use my skills to spin spiteful words to my enemies and those I hate. I’ll use my power for evil and become the most dastardly-” She was sharply cut off as Ildan tugged her back into his space by the hem of her shirt. Only then did she realize she’d begun drifting away from him again. Arly couldn’t help but giggle, letting herself be pulled backwards into his lap where Ildan wasted no time trapping her in an embrace and peppering kisses to the side of her head. 

“I forbid you from becoming a bard, it will take you too far from me.” Ildan proclaimed, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. With her back pressed flush to his bare chest, Arly could feel the beat of his heart. She chuckled at his dramatics. “Besides, you would be a terrible evil bard. You have no hate in your heart for anything.” He added, words slightly muffled by her skin. At this, she abruptly sat up, the sudden motion being enough to free her from his embrace, and looked back at him with narrowed eyes. 

“What do you mean I have no hate in my heart?” She adjusted her place in his lap, hands settled on each of his shoulders while his arms held her around the waist. Ildan looked as though he was mulling over the words, trying to come up with a real reply. 

“Well, I’ve only ever seen you get upset when someone is mean to you first or does something to one of us. Even so, just last week you said that the ogre we fought ‘might have just been having a bad day.’” He brought up one hand to air quote what he remembered her saying before quickly returning it to her waist. “You wouldn’t even say you hated that one guy that beat the everloving shit out of me. I think you said he ‘wasn’t a nice man’ or something of the sort.” Ildan couldn’t help but laugh as he told the stories. Arly let out a ‘hmph,’ pouting and scrunching her eyebrows. Gods, she hates it when he’s right about things. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I hate plenty of things! I’m a total hater.”

“Oh?”

“Aye! I hate all kinds of things!” Arly declared proudly, thumping against her chest with a fist. By this point, she had again moved within his embrace, knees now straddling his lap to allow her to sit straight up and tower over him. Ildan’s hands ventured to rest against her hips, his thumb moving delicately over a small scar she had on her right one.

“Tell me then, sweet little birdie, what do you hate?” Ildan challenged, tilting his head back slightly to look up at her with a mischievous smirk spreading on his face. Arly looked back down at him, a smirk of her own mimicking his. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair, slowly moving her head down towards his forehead. 

“I hate ignorant people that genuinely think they know better than me when they clearly do not.” She paused, her forehead resting against his. “I hate muddy puddles that you can’t see until you’re stepping through them.” Her hands tugged at the hairs on the base of his neck, tilting him backwards just enough to hover her own mouth over his. 

“I hate the sunlight that pulls you out of our bed in the morning and takes you away from me.”

Ildan hummed a response, a smile resting on his face as he waited expectantly for her lips on his. As he waited, his eyes scanned her face, assessing every detail, connecting every freckle. Arly came exceptionally close but opted for a quick kiss to the side of his mouth instead before hurriedly trying to push out of his lap. Surprised, Ildan fruitlessly tried to catch her, hands desperately clawing to try and grab at her. His efforts were entirely in vain as she giggled and glided across the room. With a groan between light chuckles, Ildan pushed himself up and followed after her. Arly dodged a couple more attempts but her laughter doubled her over and made her easy prey for Ildan to sweep up from behind and drag her kicking, protesting figure over to the bed before easily tossing her into the sheets.

“Fine, then.” He relieved himself of his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly, and rested his knees against the side of the bed. Ildan crossed his arms across his chest, looking down at her with a wicked look. He was met with a cacophony of giggles and snorts. “Let’s change that. Let this be our last job.” 

Instantly, Arly’s face began to fall. She let out a couple more chuckles, as if desperate for him to respond with his own but Ildan’s face was still. He was serious. 

“Are you having a laugh now?” Her face twisted in confusion as she moved to prop herself up on her elbows. Ildan shook his head before stepping aside to drop down onto the bed next to her. Arly immediately clambered over, resting still on her elbow but leaning to look down at him. 

“I’m not.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.” A satisfied smile remained on his face as he stared back up at her. Again, he visually traced those freckles that littered her cheeks, seeking to memorize their unique spots. He noted the way the confusion continued to twist at her face, eyes darting around looking for the slightest hint of joking.

“What does that mean, Ildan?” Arly’s voice was low now. There was fear in her tone. She was afraid this was an elaborate joke, and it wasn’t a joke she was going to enjoy the punchline of. Hearing this small crack, Ildan propped himself up and reached one hand out to hold her face. 

“Birdie, we’ve been wanting to get married for years. Let’s do it. Get a little house out near your town, settle down, have some kids maybe.” Ildan ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek, watching the fear and confusion slip away with each word he spoke. “Would you like that?” 

Arly’s mouth opened and closed, searching for the best way to respond. Her mind pulled at strings, trying to think of some grand profession of love or poetic acceptance of his proposition. None came to mind. A clumsy nod and an awkward hum was all she could find. 

“I’m thinking three kids, two boys and a girl- wait, no-” He began pulling her into a closer embrace, placing her head against his chest to free up his arms for the purposes of waving them dramatically around above the two of them. “No, no, two girls, one boy. Feels right.” 

Arly was entranced by the way he painted this picture, especially as he continued on explaining the life they could lead together after this job. She offered the occasional hum of approval or simple ‘aye, of course’ when he paused but otherwise didn’t do much but listen with the biggest grin. It wasn’t just that he had finally mentioned settling down, or that he wanted to have children or whatever else. It was the fact that he’d clearly been thinking about these things for a long time. He explained their finances, how he’d set some coin aside over the course of their last few jobs for this moment. He knew the logistics of getting the two of them back to Nenia Fai in the easiest way possible. He swore he’d write a letter to his family after the job was done, attaching enough coin to get them to the wedding. 

Ildan rambled on, firing off plan after plan. Arly couldn’t take it anymore. In a flash, she flipped over and grabbed him by either side of his face before immediately crashing her lips onto his. Having been cut off from his long-winded speech, Ildan was surprised for a moment by the motion but quickly smiled against the kiss. They held there for a moment, Ildan’s hands finding her waist yet again and beginning to creep their way up before Arly once again suddenly interrupted him by quickly pulling away. Her hands continued to hold his face, slightly squishing his cheeks into his head. 

“You’re one hundred percent serious about this, right? Last job then home?”

“Arly Umbar, how many times are you going to ask me?”

“Can you say it one more time?”

Ildan sighed, the fond smile never once faltering. In return, he grabbed her face and squished her cheeks in the same way she did his. As light caught them, he noticed tears pricking at her eyes. I’ll never make you cry, he once promised, only tears you’d be happy to spill. 

“Arly Umbar, my sweet birdie, my most beautiful girl.” Between each name he placed a kiss on a different part of her face. “This will be our last job. Within the month, we’ll be married.” The final, punctuating kiss was pressed gently to her forehead, where he lingered an extra few seconds. His nose brushed her hairline, taking in the sweet smell of pine that always seemed to follow her. Her hands had fallen from his face by now, instead clasping together behind his neck.

As Arly’s eyes gently shut under his touch, a single tear fell down her cheek. For once, the future they’d only mused about in passing was about to come to light. A warmth spread through her chest and down to the tips of her fingers that she could only recognize as the utter bliss he provided her. The moment his lips left her forehead, she longed for the feeling of them against her skin again. His fingers found the bottom of her chin, tilting her head back as he kissed away the tear on her cheek and trailed the rest down her face and neck until he was buried in the crook of her neck yet again. Each kiss was a small fire that burned her skin, a burn she’d give anything to feel again and again.

“I hate that you stopped.” She finally said, her voice surprisingly cracking from how close she’d been to the brink of tears.

“Yes, yes, I’m told you hate a lot of things.”

[library-of-crow]

Cats, Dogs, and Rats

“I will not ask again, where is the princess?” 

Valdun’s voice carried throughout the halls of Truefire Castle as he looked between the guards that stood before him with wild eyes. The guards, in turn, looked between each other with a hint of desperation before hanging their heads and kneeling before their king.

“We’re not sure, your grace.”

With an exasperated groan, Valdun threw his hands up and began to pace back and forth before the pair. Third time this month he was having this conversation.

“Get up and find her!”

Meanwhile, just outside the city walls, a group of four young bandits sat hidden behind a cart. Their figures were shrouded by scarves and cloth, further concealing their identity from those who would catch a momentary glimpse of them. The figure in the center, who’s clothing appeared to be the most foreign compared to the others, threw up a series of hand signals to indicate that their target was in view. The others, backs pressed flush against the wooden cart, followed the signals and caught sight of the burly firbolg man riding into the area with a large cart of barrels covered by burlap tarp.To most, the man looked like your average wine seller. His cart smelled of fermented fruits, his rosy cheeks indicated that he’d been drinking, but none of that was quite as interesting as the trace of dust on the rim of the barrel on the back right of the cart. The tallest of the figures lifted their hand to motion to the cart and then to their nose.

Mage Bane.

This was their target. A series of hand gestures was exchanged and the group moved to close in on their target while remaining unseen. Two headed to the right of the cart’s path while the other two took their place on the left. Shedding a layer from their heads, the group on the right jumped into action, throwing themselves in front of the cart. Their sudden appearance forced the firbolg man to abruptly pull back on his horses, shouting for them to stop before they hit the figures that jumped into their path.

“Oi, sir, you’ve hit my sister!” A shrill voice with an obviously faked accent called out from in front of the cart. Finny, in all her glory, stood desperately trying to hold up a smaller elf with choppy brown hair who was languishing in her arms. The latter was sure to keep her leg bent in an awkward angle to truly drive the narrative of her injury. 

“Now that isn’t possible.” The firbolg’s accent was foreign, Finny noted, he was likely coming from a port in Eldrieth. “And you miscreants jumped in front of my cart. Your parents ever teach you to look before running in the street?!” He was exasperated. There was no way he wanted to fight peasant children on his travels.

The other two made quick work in the background. While one disrupted the pin that held the tarp down, the other began getting a hold of the barrel. With the tarp loosened, the barrel was easy to slip off the back of the cart. It was far lighter than a barrel of wine should have been, they could only assume it was half full, and didn’t take much effort to remove with two people. 

Or, at least, it should have been until the taller of the two stepped on the shorter’s tail and rendered them immobile. 

Desperate to keep quiet while also experiencing intense pain, the shorter tried to communicate through quiet groans to the taller. The taller side-eyed them, through their iconic mask that would easily identify them as Ibex to anyone who knew them, but gestured for them to keep working on retrieving the barrel. The argument up front was growing more heated and absolutely was reaching a conclusion. 

“We ain’t got no parents! And now she’s only got one good leg! You oughta give us some money!” Finny shouted while the elf she held moaned and groaned in pain. The firbolg continued to grow more and more frustrated by the conversation, going as far as placing his reins aside to come down and investigate the scene. 

"Right, let me see. I'm sure it's not that bad. Trying to scam me o’ some coin." He grumbled, laboring over to the pair. Meanwhile, the two in the back were just about to finish retrieving the barrel when the pressure on the smaller’s tail grew to be unbearable. Using one hand to rip down their mask, revealing a pained and exasperated Trick, they began whispering obscenities about how much their taller sibling’s big feet were hurting them. Ibex again rolled their eyes before looking down to see Trick’s tail firmly planted under their foot. Gods, they hated when Trick was right.

“Hey now, wait a minute. What’s going on back there?” In the midst of their quiet bickering, the firbolg had turned around to leave Finny and the other elf in the dirt. He froze, pointing at the pair who had just managed to get the barrel off the back of the cart. Ah, shit. “Boys, we got thieves!” The firbolg called, summoning numerous others from the surrounding market to his side. Finny’s eyes flicked between Ibex, Trick, and the elf in her arms with a look of annoyance. 

Of course there was backup. Who transports illicit goods without backup? 

The elf she was holding righted herself as a group began to surround the two of them. “What do we do?” She whispered, her accent instantly identifying her as a resident of the city of Truefire. Finny sharply tapped against the tinted goggles the smaller elf wore, a confident smirk crossing her face.

“Mage Bane is highly flammable, right?” The elf nodded. “And we were really just stealing it to destroy it, right?” The elf nodded again, this time slower as she tried to process Finny’s idea. She finally huffed a chuckle when she understood. 

“Alright, I’ll bring up the rear.” The elf said with a mischievous smile, the slightest bits of flames pricking at her fingertips. 

As the goons continued to close in on the two groups, Finny jumped into action. First throwing a punch at the closest attacker, following it up with a kick to the nearest one behind her. The smaller elf was able to duck in the nick of time to avoid a foot to the face. Across the way, Ibex and Trick caught the memo and similarly began attacking those that surrounded them. A couple scratches from Trick followed by Ibex’s expert use of the whirling blades made quick work of their foes, but their victory seemed just a tad too easy. Slowly, they both turned to see the massive firbolg standing before them, a warhammer clutched in his hands. The two shared a quick look before being forced to jump apart, narrowly avoiding the firbolg’s first swing. 

By this point, Finny and the other elf were sprinting in their direction. However, instead of coming to their side and aiding them against the firbolg, the two ran up the cart and over the back end. 

“Move! Now!” Finny shouted, her feet never slowing as she practically grabbed Trick and Ibex by the shirt collars. The two were quick to comply, scurrying to their feet and taking off away from the firbolg and the cart. The other elf, who had hung back just far enough that they were out of range, surveyed her surroundings as she ran across the rest of the barrels. Just enough room.

“Hey, big guy!” She called, jumping over where the barrel of Mage Bane sat on the ground between the firbolg and the cart. Her right hand extended downwards as she jumped and a bright flash of fire shot from her fingertips. The firbolg went to yell something but was cut off as the fire caught the barrel then the Mage Bane inside. The subsequent explosion was glorious. A bright green flash accompanied by black smoke that billowed outwards far enough to conceal the path the group took to escape. A couple townspeople poked their heads out of their homes at the sudden noise, took note of the smoky haze, and went on their way back to work. No casualties and a stranger at the center of the commotion? Not their problem.

As the firbolg continued to shout curses and spin around, desperate to find the perpetrators, the group was already long gone. The goons were shoved around and chastised for allowing them to get away, responding only in embarrassed groans and defeated sighs. Meanwhile, the group of rogues couldn’t help but giggle amongst themselves once they were far enough off. Trick swears they even caught a small chuckle escaping Ibex’s mask as they all slowed down in a clearing once they felt the coast was clear. The elf with the choppy brown hair and goggles was the first to shed her layers, laughing through the process, and dropping her illusion with the hood of her cloak. 

There stood the missing princess, face coated in soot from the explosion that formed the outline of the goggles she once wore. Her hair was matted and wild from being contained in various hoods and scarves while her knees were bloodied and scraped from stumbling out of the town. For once, she looked like a regular kid. There was no sign of regality, no grand history on her shoulder, no magnificent fate set ahead of her.

Just a kid with messy white hair and odd colored eyes enjoying time with her peers.

“Pretty clean escape, if I had to say so.” Finny finally said, having caught her breath and shed some of her own disguise. Without thinking about it, she brought one of her scarves to Valdoria’s face and began wiping away some of the soot. They couldn’t bring her back looking like that.

“We would have made off with the barrel if Ibex didn’t stomp on my tail!” Trick pouted, bringing their tail to the front to stroke it gently. Sure enough, there was a red spot where Ibex had stood. Granted, Trick bruised very easily. Odd trait for someone in their line of work.

“Boohoo.” Ibex retorted, taking off their own mask and hanging it on a section of their belt. The two of them fought like siblings – they practically were – but would forget whatever they were even arguing about within the hour. 

“I think you got it all.” Valdoria said, between aggressive rubs from Finny, who was still doing it mindlessly. At this, Finny became more aware of the action and paused for a moment. She held Valdoria’s face in one hand, rotating it side to side to check for damage and dirt. 

“Not quite.” And again the scarf was on her face, scrubbing off the last bit of soot. Valdoria groaned lightly, swearing she saw Finny lick a section of it to keep rubbing at the dirt. “There you are, all clean.”

“Thanks, Fin.” Valdoria chuckled, lightly pushing Finny’s shoulder. There was something comedic to Valdoria about watching Finny take care of her and the others. From the beginning, she never treated her differently than the other two, simply because she hadn’t grown up with her. Rather, Finny took her in with the same open arms, and occasional smack upside the head, as she had accepted the other two as her family. 

Finny chuckled as well, especially as they both caught sight of the other two bickering and fighting across the clearing.”Ay, you two.” Startled, both heads quickly turned in her direction. “Quit. We gotta get back to the city.” 

Clicking their tongue, Ibex released their grip on Trick’s collar and dropped them into the dirt, letting them hit the ground with a thud followed by a surprised growl. The group then began their short journey back into the capital city, trying to avoid the gaze of the Kingsguard as they smuggled the princess back to her garden. It wasn’t particularly difficult, they’d done it time and time again, just a quick duck through an old side door and a mad dash into the gardens before they’re spotted. Normally, the gardens were empty save for a couple of guards on patrol. Valdun preferred the training grounds and Liddy frequented the city, neither used the garden as a site of repose without invitation from their younger sister. Normally, that is, and not on days that Valdun had spent hours searching for Valdoria. Today, she was well over an hour late to a meeting she was supposed to have attended with him. 

As the group snuck their way into the garden, they were greeted with a familiar, and very angry face. Finny, who stood at the front of the group, immediately froze with a look of surprise as she almost ran directly into Valdun near the doors to the garden. He stood tall in front of her, hands planted firmly on his hips. 

“Valdun!” She exclaimed, forcing a light and friendly tone with her arms open as if she was going to hug him. Her small fangs shone through the brilliant and massive smile she forced while Trick practically hid behind her. Ibex was not so concerned, standing to the side of her and looking off at something down the hall. Dory put her hands behind her back and avoided all eye contact with her brother, who bore holes into the side of her head with his gaze. Were it not for the tension of the moment, she would have started whistling. “We were only-”

“Save it. Valdoria, a word.” Valdun cut her off, pointing at Dory and then pointing towards the garden's entrance. She heaved a disappointed sigh, her entire body slumping with annoyance of having been scolded by her brother. Without argument, she turned on her heel and marched off towards the exit with a ‘hmph.’ Valdun glanced over the group, rolled his eyes briefly, and began to follow after her before Finny grabbed his arm and forced him to stop.

“If you’re going to be mad, just be mad at me. I invited her out.” 

“I’m sure you did, but she has to learn some degree of restraint. She’s the princess-”

“She’s a kid.” Finny interrupted in a low voice, her tone devoid of all joking. While she hadn’t been there for most of the journey Dory and Ibex had been on in the previous years, she had grown somewhat fond of the little princess. Under all that responsibility and pressure, there was a bright young girl that craved mischief. A kid that just wanted to have fun. 

Valdun sighed again, somewhat defeated, before resting a hand on Finny’s as a wordless request to let him go. She did, patting him lightly on the shoulder as she stepped back. Valdun pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before picking his head up high again.

“I’ll go easy on her.” He said with a nod, stepping towards the exit and following after Valdoria. 

With the king gone, Trick physically relaxed and Finny blew a strand of hair out of her face. Ibex turned back to the other two, rubbing their nose and then pointing down the arcade at a guard that stood before the second set of doors that led into the garden.

“He snitched.” They said, dropping their hand and unsheathing a blade. Finny jumped into action, grabbing them by the arm and protesting as they began stalking towards the guard.

Unfortunately, she’d need to teach her siblings a bit of restraint as well.

[library-of-crow]

There was something intensely exciting about the prospect of traveling the stars. The ability to go wherever, whenever, without the constraints of- well, of anything, really. It was everything Liver-Moss wanted. A freedom she hadn’t been afforded at any point in her life before leaving Fibian Minor.

A freedom that came at a nasty, nasty price.

In the last week alone, she’d experienced far more adventure than she’d ever dreamed of enjoying. Somehow, none of it was what she was expecting and most of it was horrific and awful. There were certainly no men that become horrible monsters of stretched meat and muscle or mean captains that didn’t listen to your counsel and put your life in danger or sugary men with weird heads on Fibian Minor. Sure, there were spooky creatures but none quite as awful as the ones she’d met. 

Liver-Moss didn’t expect to be homesick like this when she left. She never expected to long for the security of home and the warmth of her family. She wondered what they thought when she left. Were they angry? Worried? Disappointed? Of course she was well aware of the bounty out for her but there was no way for her to know who even created it. Was it her father? Gods, she hoped it was her father.

The ship was moving rapidly as they traveled, Liver-Moss wasn’t even entirely certain where they were going, and watching the galaxy move by out the windows in the galley served as a constant reminder of her uncertainty. For the first time since she originally left, Liver-Moss felt lost. 

Reaching her good hand up to touch the glass of the window, she began tracing small circles around the distant stars that appeared stagnant against the swimming pool of darkness. 

1..2…3…4…Shit, did she count that one already?

Liver-Moss heaved a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping over as she resigned to the inevitability of the ship’s motion. At home she could stare up at the sky and count the stars forever, never worried about them moving too fast. Her slump dragged her to the ground, her legs folding into a criss-cross pattern as they made contact with the cold metal ground of the ship. Only then did she sniffle, realizing her nose had begun to run and a lump had formed in the back of her throat. 

Her eyes were burning. Reaching a hand up, she rubbed at the both of them with the side of her arm as if that would force the tears back into her head. Ultimately, the effort was unsuccessful and quiet weeping could be heard from where she sat. She hadn’t taken the time to make sure she was alone, hell she was never alone in the sentient ship, but at the moment she didn’t care. 

Her small body wracked with sobs as she took the time to remember her home and those she left behind. She vividly saw the look on her older brother’s face as the ship she snuck onto took flight. The way he’d stared up at her with pride and saluted her on her journey. They were supposed to be together and yet here she was. Alone and barreling through space with strangers.

What would he have done here? How would he have dealt with Piccerie in the Moonbeam? He was always much more even-tempered than she was, he absolutely would have brushed it off without a second thought. Why wasn’t he the chosen one? Why, she thought daily, was she so special?

Truth be told, she wasn’t.

At least she didn’t think so. No, Liver-Moss Violet was lucky, a victim of chance. A consistent victim of chance, actually. It was unlucky that she was on a planet attacked by the Ahtmenians, it was lucky she was picked up by Yusef, it was unlucky she ended up on a planet full of mercenaries, it was lucky the Galactic Union showed up when they did, and so on and so forth. It felt like nothing was ever truly in her hands sometimes. Like the world around her was propelled by an unseen force- Ah. Right.

Chosen one.

For some reason, this made her sob harder. Questions buzzed in her head so loudly that she had to grip at her skull to try and quiet them. Was the ability to return home even in her hands? What would chance bring to her next? 

Did home want her back?

Liver-Moss’s hand fell from her head onto the floor in front of her. Tears now fell ceaselessly onto the cold metal below her. It was frustrating to know she couldn’t even hide them with the dirt. Gods, she missed the dirt. The grass. The sticks, the leaves, the trees, all of it. Almost all of it at least. 

The final thought was a jarring one. She hiccuped as it permeated her sorrow with images of confinement, schooling, and a fair share of separation from her peers. That’s why she left, she recalled, that’s why she stuck around this sorry bunch of bastards: they graced her with an independence she wasn’t entirely used to. Perhaps that’s why she often came across as harsh and brash, she was still figuring out what it meant to speak for yourself without a filter imposed on your every thought and sentence. 

Man, was it fun to speak without a filter. 

Another hiccup shook her frame as she sniffled and attempted to regain her bearings. She thought of Pri Hando, the handsome tiefling she’d met on the last planet. Now there’s a person she would have never been allowed to even exchange glances with had she stayed home. She thought of her time in the fighting pit, the stalls that fed her good foods, the deal she made with Orem. 

There was plenty of good in the bad. None of it would have been experienced had chance decided to swing the other way. Perhaps, she thought, that ship stalled long enough for her to sneak on for a very real reason. Maybe her grand fate was tied to the ability to experience the galaxy, to meet the people that live in it, to get shoved around by pit fighters and have arms chopped off by strange men in basements. 

Her sobbing finally subsided. The occasional hiccup and swollen eyes were the only evidence that it had happened at all. There was an ache in her heart at the thought of home, of the eight beautiful moons over Fibian Minor, but it was dull compared to the rush of adrenaline that being on the ship brought. She would deny having cried if anyone asked. She would deflect, say she stubbed her toe really hard, or make up some stupid story that was ludicrous enough for them to leave her be. Her feral facade would keep up, they wouldn’t question her origins or why she had left her home, and she could continue to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. There would be no duty, no expectation, no carefully chosen words and actions. She didn’t have to be Liver-Moss Violet of Fibian Minor, she could just be the odd planteor they picked up along the way.

It was fun being someone else.

[library-of-crow]

MASTERLIST

i am crow, this is a sideblog of @clericalcr0w where i write blurbs about my ocs. my audience is myself and close friends so i don't include a lot of background details when i write bc it's easier not to explain everything lol. i worldbuild a lot and a lot of my ocs exist in those worlds so i just be saying shit sometimes.

they are also mostly dnd characters, some you can catch on The Grand Ghost live show HERE on wednesdays at 8p EST

(or you can watch recaps HERE)

《REQUESTS》

yeah i'll do requests sure, lmk what you wanna see and i'll do it sure

So Far..

(aka a list of what i've written so far)

ARLY UMBAR

Arly and Powell Enjoy Some Time Alone

Arly’s Parents Before Arly

The Hate in Your Heart

BILLY

Billy and Judith Have a Chat

VALDORIA TRUEFIRE

The Moment Ibex Died

Cats, Dogs, and Rats

LIVER-MOSS VIOLET

Liver-Moss in the Galley

TRICK

How Rogues Mourn

NERYS OF VIRMENOR

Nerys Comes to Visit

[library-of-crow]

“Hurry back, love.” Billy telepathically bid farewell to Aviva while holding the back of her neck and pressing their foreheads together. After a brief moment, he pulled away to press his lips to her hairline before finally allowing her out of his grasp. 

He listened as she giggled and promised to be quick before making her way out of their shared room. The pair had decided to stop temporarily in a small town to rest and recover from their journeys thus far. On their way in, Aviva had spotted a shop and immediately attempted to drag Billy along with her. Normally, Billy followed her wherever she wanted to go without complaint but today he was exhausted and practically begged her to let him rest at the town’s inn before they shopped around. Of course Aviva obliged, suggesting that he could nap while she explored the town. Billy wasn’t a fan of letting her out of his sight, regardless of how capable she was and how little she actually needed his assistance, but his heavy eyelids and aching back forced his agreement to the deal.

With Aviva gone, Billy heaved a sigh and tossed his mask onto the small wooden table beside the bed. He took note of how quiet it was in the room as he shrugged off his heavy cloak and stretched his arms above his head. The weight he was carrying now lay in a pile at the end of the bed while his wings were free to creak and straighten from the folded position they’re normally kept in. Allowing his shoulders to slum, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, enjoying the peace of the moment. It certainly would have been better if Aviva was around.

Aviva, he thought, oh sweet Aviva. He’d watched her blow a man to bits with Intervention, and damn she looked good doing it. A smile teased at his lips, finding peace in thoughts of her and all that they’d done together. 

A peace ruined by a creaking sound in the corner of the room.

Like an animal, Billy’s head spun around towards the noise. His eyes looked furiously at the small gap between the wall and the cupboard. With one deep breath, he caught a familiar scent.

“Judith.” His voice echoed in her head but the shadows did not stir. He rose to his feet and moved to stand on the other side of the bed, eliminating an obstacle between them. “You can’t hide from me. Come out, let’s talk.” There was no room in his voice for arguing. His tone wasn’t just firm, it was threatening. The shadows finally began to move as a much smaller half-elf stepped out, her red eyes glowed with hatred as she stared up at him. In her left hand was a dagger clutched tightly in front of her. Ah yes, another assassination attempt.

“Butcher.” Judith spat, the dagger still raised as if she was waiting for a moment to strike. Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes at the nickname, folding his arms across his chest while looking down at her. 

“Don’t call me that. No one does anymore.”

“It’s not like you ever shared your name.”

“Not like you ever asked.” With that, he stepped forward and Judith’s confident disposition faltered momentarily. She quickly righted herself, desperate to conceal how nervous being in front of him actually made her. 

Judith represented the Eyes of Six, a cult dedicated to Seiran Begiak, a nasty lich whose cult believes their service will earn them eternal life. Or at least they did until Billy slaughtered most of them many years ago. Now, Judith was the lone survivor of the cult and she was hellbent on revenge. An effort that was largely in vain, seeing as Billy was Seiran’s champion.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to put this knife in your stomach and rip you to pieces. I’m going to-” 

“Which is it? Knife in the stomach, or rip me to pieces?” Billy cut her off as he sat back down on the edge of the bed and began unlacing his boots. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time she’d tried this. 

“Shut up, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill you in this fucking inn and you’re going to die a bloody gruesome death.” More confident now, Judith began stepping towards him with her knife held high. “I watched as you butchered Aeric, as you strung up Entropy, as you- would you stop unlacing your boots!” The exasperation in her voice almost made Billy chuckle, but he suppressed it. He looked up for a moment, his hands never leaving his laces as he continued to undo them.

“Why? I don’t feel like dying with my boots on.” With one adequately unlaced, he began working on the other one. His gaze shifted back to his shoes. “So go on, get on with it.”

Judith was bewildered. Before her sat the man that butchered her cult in a bloodbath but left her alive for some unknown reason. The man she’d chased for years. The man that foiled murder attempt after murder attempt. The “Butcher.”

And he was unlacing his boots without a care in the world. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The words fell out of her mouth before she even thought of them.

“A lot of things, I’m sure, but that’s not the answer you’re wanting.” Having finally finished both of his boots, he slipped them both off and set them neatly beside the bed. Only then did he look up, forearms resting on his knees. “I’m not afraid of you Judith. You will never come close to killing me.”

“What makes you so sure?” She scoffed, motioning to the knife she held. There was an obvious differential in their positions. He was always like this when they spoke. Arrogant, cocky, and entirely unafraid of her. The latter was what made him so terrifying.

“Because, Judith,” Billy pushed himself to his feet, taking steps forward to tower over her and back her into the wall, “I have seen things you cannot even begin to imagine. I have experienced the greatest of horrors beyond your comprehension. But most importantly..” He trailed off, continuing to take steps until she heard her back hit the wall. “I’ve killed them, and then some.”

Judith swallowed hard but maintained her composure. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d allowed herself to be backed into the corner but she refused to go down without a fight. Taking the opportunity, she swung her blade at Billy’s face. Billy’s face hardened into a look of disappointment as he caught her wrist mid swing. With one quick motion, he smashed her wrist against the wall, forcing the blade out of her hand. Judith cried out as she felt her bones crack from the force.

“One of these days, you will learn that I am not to be trifled with.” His voice felt louder in her head as he kicked the blade across the room but kept a firm grip on her wrist. “Do you want to know why I killed your friends?”

 Judith didn’t speak.

“I butchered your friends because I could. Because I felt like it.” Billy’s voice was dangerously low. The disappointment that once crossed his face was now gone. There was nothing in his eyes. “And I left you alive as a message to Seiran, not so you could pursue me relentlessly for revenge.” He dropped his hold on her arm and took a step back. 

Only then did Judith realize she was holding her breath. 

“How does that feel?” Again he crossed the room and sat himself on the edge of the bed. “To know that your survival, your existence, was a power play by me. You’re a pawn, Judith. Act like one.”

For a moment, the air felt thick. The lump in Judith’s throat blocked any sound from coming out. She was frozen in place, desperately trying to decide what to do. Surely, she thought, he was going to kill her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Every muscle in her body waited for him to make a move but nothing happened. He just stared her down with an intensity that made her skin crawl. 

“Go. Before you do something stupid.” Judith couldn’t help but jump slightly at his sudden words. It never got easy hearing him speak and seeing his mouth remain shut. 

Judith was a lot of things, but she wasn’t an idiot. For a moment, she considered being one. For a moment, she considered what exactly would happen if she lunged at him, if she ripped his throat out with her teeth and threw it across the room while he struggled in his final moments. Yet, she knew she would never get that far. Eyes fixated on where he sat, she slowly crossed the room to pick up her dagger before making her way to the window. It wasn’t until she had clambered shakily outside that Billy allowed his body to relax. 

So much for a nap. 

It wasn’t much longer after Judith’s departure that Aviva returned to the room. In her arms was a bag so big and so full of trinkets she’d picked up in the town that Billy was hurriedly asked to help her get through the door. 

“I’ve brought you something to eat as well, there was a stand of fresh fruits I simply couldn’t ignore.” Aviva excitedly explained as she set the bag down on the chest at the foot of the bed. Billy shut the door softly behind her, smiling in response to her words, before following her across the room. He watched as she retrieved a peach from the bag and placed it in his hand. “There you are, a fresh snack.” She smiled proudly and he felt his chest warm up at the sight. 

“Looks delicious, thank you.” He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek before biting into the peach. Refreshing. Almost as refreshing as seeing his lover after dealing with the pest that trailed them.

‘I thought you were going to rest some. I wasn’t expecting you to be awake when I got back.” Aviva mentioned, rifling through her trinkets and occasionally pulling one out to examine it. Billy only grunted in response, dropping onto the bed and laying down while enjoying his peach.

“Missed you too much, I guess.” Aviva chuckled while rolling her eyes, finally giving him her undivided attention. “What? I couldn’t rest, I was too lonely without you here.” He feigned exasperation, laying his free hand across his forehead while the other brought the peach to his mouth for another bite.

“You’re such a diva.” Aviva teased, similarly dropping onto the bed on her stomach beside him. Supported by her elbows, she reached over and took the peach from his hand, stole a quick kiss, then took a bite of the peach. A look of overdramatic shock crossed Billy’s face before it quickly spread into a smile. 

Perhaps they could talk about Judith another time.

[library-of-crow]

The most terrible thing about it wasn’t just what happened, but rather that it happened on a regular day.

A day so normal, so unassuming, that Valdoria would have otherwise forgotten about it. A day that would have been lost to memory, a day that should have been uneventful, a day that she desperately wishes to go back to and make into an average day.

Alas, it was not.

It was the latter half of the day when it happened, Valdoria was between tasks and enjoying a moment of peace in the garden with her brother, Valdun, and her advisor, Sam. In moments like these, they agreed to not discuss any of the day’s work and avoid worrying about any documents that need signing or speeches that need editing. Once Liddy arrived, they had planned to play a card game, loser traveled to the Midlands for a meeting with one of the more eccentric lords. 

“I’m just saying, I think the city would look better if we had, like, one really, really big tree. We could name it, make a landmark, say there’s some fancy story associated with it.” Valdoria pitched to the other two while sitting on a bench and mindlessly sketching her surroundings with a quill. Valdun sparred lazily with the air while Sam sat by Dory’s side, occasionally approving the images she turned to show her but otherwise bided her time gazing at the clouds above. 

“Why fabricate a story? We can just plant a tree.” Valdun replied, sticking his sword in an imaginary enemy. “I’d say everyone likes a good tree. We can name it in honor of the revolutionaries.. Or something.” He punctuated with a shrug before returning to striking at the air. 

“That could actually be quite nice. Honor them and the new age and whatnot.” Sam added, her eyes not leaving the sky. “Should we have made a plaque or something for that by now?”

“I’m sure it's fine,” Valdun quickly replied, “this is also beginning to sound work-y. As your King, I request a topic change.” Though his attention remained on the dramatic striking of the air in front of him, he laughed with the other two who booed his use of titles. 

“Alright fine, big guy, what do you suppose we talk about?” Valdoria finally said, putting her quill and parchment down beside her and folding her hands in her lap expectantly.

“Let’s talk about how Dance Master Lyon made me look like a fool yesterday.” Valdun’s response earned an uproar of laughter from both girls, causing him to stop his sparring to turn in their direction. He drove his sword into the ground in front of him and rested a hand atop it. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” 

Neither Dory nor Sam’s laughter showed signs of slowing. The two of them leaned into each other for support as tears threatened to spill from Dory’s eyes. They were both there when the Dance Master attempted to teach Valdun a new dance, and they both witnessed the sharp crack of his wooden stick as Lyon corrected Valdun’s posture multiple times over. 

“It was pretty bad.” Sam managed, desperately trying to catch her breath between fits of laughter. Valdun frowned at the pair, entirely unimpressed. “Why, in Fetari’s name, would you bring that up?” Dory gestured to Sam in agreement with her question but Valdun just rolled his eyes in response and returned to his sparring. 

Wiping at her eyes, Dory finally sat back up and sighed to catch her breath. She opened her mouth to quip about Valdun’s lack of grace but suddenly froze. Something was very, very wrong. The smile immediately faded from her face as a lump formed in her throat and she found herself feeling crushed by the weight of an unknown force. Her hand fell to the edge of the bench to stabilize herself as the sound of Sam and Valdun continuing their conversation became nothing but white noise behind the amplified sound of her heartbeat. It felt like she was choking or being ripped apart from the inside. The scar where Sam had stabbed her all those years ago began to burn like it was being reopened. There was nothing but pain and fear and- was that despair?

“Hey, Dory, you alright?” Sam asked, noticing the princess had stopped responding to the conversation. Her hand lightly touched her shoulder when she received no reply and Dory’s head didn’t rise from staring down at her lap. A shuddering breath from lips prompted Sam to speak to her again before gently moving some hair out of her face. At this point, Valdun had stopped swinging his sword around and sheathed it to cautiously approach the bench.

There was no response from Valdoria. She couldn’t even hear the question, much less formulate some sentence that expressed in any way how she was feeling. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as panic began to set in. Something was terribly wrong but she couldn’t figure out what. She finally lifted her head, eyes red and tear-streaked as she met Sam’s gaze. A look of horror was plastered across her face as she attempted to swallow past the lump that hadn’t stopped growing in her throat. At this, Valdun rushed to his sister’s side, kneeling on the ground beside her and desperately searching her face and body for any sign of what may have happened. 

Another wave of pain and Dory twisted her eyes shut as a sob wracked her body. She couldn’t hear him but she knew Valdun was begging Sam to help in whatever way she could while Sam continued to try and get her attention. Their efforts were entirely in vain as the pain moved to her head and both of Dory’s hands shot up to claw at her scalp as if she could dig it out. Sobs turned to wails as Dory forced herself off the bench and to her knees in the dirt. The feeling was beyond indescribable. Was it her heart being forced from her chest? The burning feeling of someone digging through her insides and twisting them into painful shapes? 

No, she realized, it was her soul being broken. A piece was being dragged away, discarded and left to rot. 

A piece of her soul was alone and afraid. 

The wails became screams as tears and snot coated her bright red face. Her body folded, hands finding the dirt and grass that always brought her comfort in the past but now found nothing. No matter what Sam tried, Dory was inconsolable. She didn’t calm until exhaustion took her and Valdun was forced to carry her to her room, his own face streaked with tears and turned emotionless from the horror he’d just witnessed.

When she awoke the next day, Valdun was sleeping at her side. He was hunched over, resting on his arms at the foot of her bed while sitting on a foot stool. Sam was similarly slumped over at the desk in the corner but a small stir from Dory woke her right up and she quickly jumped over to fuss over Dory. The movement woke Valdun, who joined in the fussing. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Dory muttered, as Sam tried to look her over for any signs of injury or corruption. Sam looked altogether unconvinced but allowed Dory to push herself out of bed and make her way to her desk. Her throat felt raw. “Something’s happened. I don't know what and that’s horrifying, but something’s happened.” She produced a piece of parchment from her drawer and began assembling the items required to write a letter. Valdun stopped her, removing the quill from between her fingers.

“Whatever it is you’re about to do, it can wait. You need to rest and talk to us.” He said, while Dory looked up at him with shock. He noted her swollen eyes and the sunken look of her dark circles. His baby sister was suffering beyond her years and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I need to figure out-”

“You need to rest.” His tone was firm. Valdun was unyielding. 

“Fine.” She spat, rising from her chair. “At least have someone look into things. There could be something awful spreading as we speak.” She almost whispered, unable to make eye contact with Valdun, before walking back towards her bed. 

Valdun shared a knowing look with Sam, who nodded in agreement, before he moved to exit her room. He put his best guards to work, searching the continent for signs of corruption or the like. They found nothing. Dory was furious. She hardly slept, spending night after night in her study trying to find some answers. The month and a half following was brutal, on her and those around her.

She almost didn’t notice that the letters from Ibex had stopped. 

She almost didn’t know why Trick had shown up at the castle unannounced, clutching Sable tightly to their chest. 

[library-of-crow]

It was an average day in Firnmel and Rhys had just returned from a week long hunt with some of the other folks in the village. The hunting party had spent the greater part of the day skinning rabbits, deer, and a couple wild hogs that they'd managed to slay to feed the village. He had shrugged off his massive fur cloak and hung it near the door after rinsing his hands in a bucket of water outside. His wife, Eles, would scold him endlessly if he came in smelling like blood and gore.

He wasted no time clambering into their home on a direct route to the fireplace, plopping down in a chair nearby to start unlacing his boots. Once he was satisfied with the number of removed layers, Rhys heaved a long exhale and sunk back into the chair, his eyes instantly falling shut.

A week long hunt was exhausting.

A week long hunt was especially exhausting when you were never trained a bow and were, therefore, awful with one.

Sure, he'd been in Firnmel long enough to train with some of the other townspeople but he hadn't quite mastered it yet. Something about a sword just felt better in his hands. It was more comfortable, like he was always meant to wield one. Granted, most prey he'd encountered on the sea didn't have very far to run before the boat came to an end and they were forced into the ocean below.

Ah, but Rhys Ethel, now Ethel-Umbar, was a reformed man. No more did he long for the seas or worry himself about the potential for other pirates that may steal his bounty. He was a proper village man now, with a lovely wife, a cottage, and a child on the way. Rhys Ethel-Umbar had been domesticated.

"Ah, you're back." At the sound of his wife's voice, Rhys popped an eye open in her direction. He didn't move to sit up as he heard her shuffle in his direction. Eles had stopped at the side of his chair, resting a hand over his head that immediately started raking through his matted curls. She'd remind him to wash up more before dinner. "I just spoke with Misty."

"Did you? Her Eoin is a good shot." Rhys replied, his eyes falling back shut as he settled into her touch. Her fingers against his scalp were a comfort after the week of tough living conditions and itchy bed rolls.

"Aye, he is, best in town." She hummed her agreement before stopping her hand and moving to stand in front of her husband. Rhys opened his eyes instinctively, sitting up a little straighter at the sight of Eles’s intense stare, her hands firmly planted on her hips. He was in trouble. "Why did you teach their Cormac how to craft a shiv?"

"That's what this is about?"

"Aye."

"Misty's always been a bit of a prig."

"Rhys." She smacked his shoulder while he chuckled, apparently it wasn't as funny to her. "Be serious. Why did you teach him that? He showed his mum and she immediately came to find me!" Rhys fully straightened at Eles's frustration.

"Eoin brought the boy today when we were skinning our kills. He was bored." He reached his hands out to pull his wife closer. She only resisted for a moment before allowing him to pull her in, resting her knee on the chair between his legs for balance. Rhys wrapped his arms around her back, placing his chin against her stomach to look up at her.

"He's eight, Rhys." Eles retorted, holding her hands on either side of his face.

"That's a perfect age to learn."

But he doesn't need to." Rhys twisted his face a bit in immediate response. "Not like that, I just mean he doesn't need to. He's got other things to keep him busy, like books or drawings or anything but a shiv." She corrected before he could make a remark. She knew that look. It usually meant he had interpreted her words as a reminder that he was an outsider and she wanted to clarify before his insecurities got the better of him.

Technically, he was. No matter how many years he spent in Firnmel, he still felt ever so slightly out of place. His rough childhood in Lyvir, his time at sea, all of it added up to create constant reminders of his otherness. He crafted his first shiv at age eight. Rhys moved to bury his face in Eles's stomach.

"Well, did she tell you that I taught him it wasn't a weapon? That it was only used for skinning rabbits?" His reply was muffled by the cloth of her dress but she heard it none the less. Eles sighed, it was ultimately a harmless and helpful skill.

"She neglected to mention that."

"Or how about how many rabbits he helped us skin after that? Cormac is a rabbit skinning expert, or at least will be when he stops accidentally cutting into the meat."

"I suppose that's a useful skill. He'll be a fine hunter when he's older." Rhys lifted his head as she spoke, tilting back to look up at her with a slightly confused expression. Wasn't she just mad at him over this?

"I thought you disapproved?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his lover's face for any sign of joking. A small chuckle escaped her lips as they formed a soft smile.

"Misty disapproved. I may have at first but I said I'd speak with you, now I understand why you did it." Her hands moved to rest on his head and again mess with his hair. "Maybe avoid it in the future. I'll tell her you're sorry- No, I'll tell her I spoke with you and leave the response ambiguous."

"You're an odd woman." Rhys teased, melting into her touch before turning his head so his ear rested against her body. His arms pulled her in closer, snuggling up to her body by the firelight. "Scheming about how you'll tell Misty to just get over it and stop being such a-"

"I said no such thing!" Eles cut him off with a soft whack on the top if his head. Rhys only laughed in response and she couldn't help but laugh along with him. He wasn't always perfect, Labelas knows he wasn't, but Eles could never stay upset with him. Every mistake he made, he made with good intentions. It was his way of trying to fit in with Firnmel. To understand the locals and the culture, to truly adopt every tradition and unspoken rule.

To be like her.

By the gods, Rhys did everything for her. If she said jump, he'd ask how high. He was hopelessly devoted to her and would go to great lengths to protect her and their unborn child.

"You know, we should teach our kid to shoot a bow from a young age." Rhys finally said once the silence had settled again. "That way they will be some sort of archery prodigy by their teen years. Best hunter in all of Firnmel." Eles shook her head with a laugh at his grand dreams for their child but she couldn't help but agree. She already knew Rhys would do anything for that kid, just as he did for her.

"Sounds like a fine plan," she paused momentarily to cup his face in her hands and force him to look at her, "but you will be in charge of making sure they do not shoot their neighbors. Purposefully or accidentally." She punctuated her demands by squishing his face slightly, giggling at the silly way his cheeks looked.

"Deal." He mimicked a salute before breaking free of her hands to plant a kiss on her stomach. Eles's giggles didn't cease as he pulled her down into his lap and scattered sloppy kisses over her cheeks. He ignored her complaints of how dirty he was, instead taking them as a sign to pull her in closer. Her continuous laughter only fueled his attack.

As their shared laughter finally died down, Eles couldn't help but nestle into his lap, her face landing in the crook of his neck. For a moment, they sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

"I think we'll be alright." Eles finally muttered as the room grew quiet.

"Alright? How do you mean?"

"Alright parents."

"Oh by far. You'll be excellent and I'll be okay. Together, we're alright." Eles smacked Rhys's chest as he elicited another laugh from her. He was right, they'd certainly be alright together.

"Aye, aye. Now go wash up before dinner, you stink like meat and blood." She began pushing herself out of his grasp before she was suddenly pulled back in. Rhys took advantage of her surprise to steal a quick kiss before letting her go free. As she pushed herself up, she again smacked his shoulder and rolled her eyes.

Yeah, they'd be alright together.