#ANYWAY imagine the night at the tavern with everyone has gone on a bit too long and cyno sings this in front of everyone

[4giorno]

cyyu was fighting for gay rights and people (he) were killed

[mywifeleftme]

355: Motörhead // No Remorse

No Remorse Motörhead 1984, Bronze

I heard British comics writer Warren Ellis tell a story about hearing a horrible banging in the hallway outside his flat late one night in the mid-1980s. When he poked his head outside to give the noisenik hell he discovered Lemmy wandering around smacking the walls with a wooden cooking spoon. After he managed to get the metal legend’s attention, Lemmy waved the implement at him and snarled, “You ever hear of a coke spoon? This is my coke spoon!”

*

This past Friday, I talked to a 50-something punk named Joey P who has 26 Motörhead records on vinyl (including the coveted leatherbound version of No Remorse). If you ever want to have a long conversation with Joey P, I recommend starting with a riff on if Ronnie James Dio was a mob-connected / Rat Pack wiseguy, and then letting him go into antiquarian detail on which Motörhead records are kind of underrated (Another Perfect Day), underrated (Bastards), and really underrated (1916). Love that guy, and I think he’s mostly right. 26 is probably too many Motörhead records even for me, but they are one of those long-running, very sonically consistent bands who turn their deepest fans into sommeliers. I can hold forth about the subtle differences in tasting notes between an Ace of Spades and an Iron Fist (let alone a departure like Orgasmatron!) while an outsider looks doubtfully into their two indistinguishable cups of Jack and Coke. A band like this gives men of a certain age a way to sniff each other over when they meet in a clearing, a low-impact ritual of butting heads.

*

For years I remembered a story I thought one of my friends had told me about running into Lemmy at the Dominion Tavern in Ottawa towards the end of his life. He was miserably drinking white wine on his doctor’s orders, not looking for conversation. The image always struck me as both funny (I cannot imagine the house wine at the Dom having a nice finish), and sad (the day Lemmy Goddamn Kilmister lets anyone tell him he can’t have whiskey!). I think I’ve repeated it once or twice over the years as an example of how age mellows us all, but when I asked the pal I thought had told me, she denied it (though she did add that her ex told her Lemmy’d gone to see “the rippers in Aylmer once”). So, I dunno, maybe he escaped the fate of the Dom Chardonnay.

*

Speaking of fate, Lemmy was a damned sharp fellow beneath all the drugging and boozing (who else could’ve written the lyric “Fourth day, five-day marathon / We’re moving like a parallelogram”), and he rightly figured his label had pitched doing a hits compilation in 1984 because they thought the band was washed up. (The limp sales and savage critical reaction to Another Perfect Day having had something to do with that.) Kilmister insisted on inserting a side’s worth of new songs onto the double LP comp to emphasize that Motörhead remained very much a going concern. Of the four, only the brilliantly dumb “Killed By Death” became a classic in its own right, but the new tracks showed the band were still capable of churning out the sound that had defined them with undiminished ferocity. They never lost it.

*

I do know a woman who hooked up with Lemmy towards the end of his life (if anything in rock and roll can be believed, she had about 1,000 peers. It was like a more pleasant [?] Germs burn). They went home from the bar in Montreal and drank whiskey, and then she split in the morning without leaving her number. She thought the story was funny and I thought not leaving a number was a pretty good flex, but at the end she still gave a bit of a wistful, “I know he probably wouldn’t have called me anyway…”

*

Lemmy picked the songs for No Remorse himself, and even provides short annotations in the liners, so if you’re going to quibble with the selections, you’ll have to take it up with the mole man. (As he says of “Like a Nightmare,” a left-field inclusion, “This was one of my favourite B-sides. Everyone didn’t like it, but seeing as I’m the only one of the old band left, here it is!!”) There are a load of Motörhead compilations out there (I’m partial to 2000’s lavish, oddly-sequenced double-CD The Best of, since it’s the one I had as a kid), and as Joey P will tell you, they did lots of good stuff after 1984. But if 1) you only need one Motörhead record on wax, 2) you’re mostly into the original lineup, and 3) you want something reasonably comprehensive, No Remorse is a no-brainer. It has a few relative duds (“Louie, Louie”) and lacks some absolute classics (“Dead Men Tell No Tales”; “Tear Ya Down”; “City Kids”; “Love Me Like a Reptile”; “White Line Fever” etc. etc.) but why complain given the teeth-rattling abundance there is? As Lemmy says, “Here is Motörhead as you’ve come to expect them. Write your opinion on a Beatle wig and send it to someone who gives a damn. Even if you get us banned, we ain’t gonna stop!”

*

Motörhead were obviously a legendary live act, and they were my first metal show (on a bill at Detroit’s Pine Knob with Dio and Iron Maiden). They played a lot of arenas, but they made the most sense in small theatres. Bigger venues tend to dwarf them, like a small motorcycle gang trying to take over a castle. In a theatre, or better yet a bar, they own the place like The Wild Ones. I don’t remember much specific from their Pine Knob set, except that before closing with “Ace of Spades,” a song Lem was famously bored of playing every night, he told us all, “You’ll know this one, sing along if you want, I won’t be able to hear you anyway,” and then abruptly launched into that hellbent bass riff. Then he disappeared (probably there was some walking beforehand, couldn’t tell you for sure).

*

Lemmy’s funeral was livestreamed back in 2015, and it’s genuinely one of the sweetest, silliest things I have ever watched. The altar features flower arrangements in the shape of the ace of spades; an iron cross in place of a crucifix; two Marshall stacks; a pair of Triple H’s wrestling boots; a 3D-printed urn in the shape of his cavalry hat; and a mirror with a big line of speed on it. Everybody cries, many of them the sort of people the PMRC would’ve expected to burst into flames if they were to enter a church. Everybody talks about how genuinely nice he was. His girlfriend Cheryl, a job that earns you instant and eternal That Poor Woman status from all who observe, gives a super brief statement: “Lemmy loved me, but his greatest love was his fans and his music. I remember saying, ‘Baby, stay home, don’t go, skip this tour. And he said, ‘Baby, I can’t. I love my fans.’” (Imagine that being an interaction between two genuine living people—yet I believe it.) Apparently, he was an absolute pinball fiend. His bootmaker gives a speech. Somebody reads some limericks Lem wrote. What a life. What a story.

*

“Can’t get enough / And you know it’s some righteous stuff / Goes up like prices at Christmas! / Motörhead / Remember me now / Motörhead, alright"

355/365

[julesapprentice]

MC getting revenge on Julian by breaking and entering his apartment. Interesting things ensue 😳😳😳

[First of all love that you know that julian has his own place and doesn't sleep in the hole at Mazelinka's everynight, second of all thank you for sending this in and it's subsequent addition, I thourghly enjoyed writing this]

Mc finally gets revenge on Julian for his habit of breaking and entering with asras help:

Fair to say Julian has a bad habit for breaking and entering and he's not subtle nor careful about it either

Part of you can't blame him he is after all a lanky bugger and he doesn't fit in the door to the shop

That excuse becomes a bit old however when you have to constantly replace the jars for your stock or move things so he doesn't fall into a bed of smashed glass

You'd had enough of his antics one night when he came to visit and knocked over a bottle of one of the most foul smelling potions you carried at the shop

Not only did it smell horrifically but it also got all over the various pillows, rugs and furniture strewn around the shop

Julian of course apologised and took full responsibility for his actions, he's not lucio, but by this point you are past your limit and hell hath no fury like a magician scorned or however that saying goes

Situations like these call for revenge and revenge requires a partner in crime hence asra

Asra is on board without hesitation you needn't ask twice

Julian doesn't just find his way into your place, I'm doubtful he has the key to asras place in Nopal and even more so that he's any less clumsy alas he turns up anyway and scares the skin off your former master who just wanted to get away for a few days

Apparently it just couldn't wait until Monday when he was home

You discuss whether or not you want to be there when julian is or wait for him to get home, how you're going to get in there and what to do once you're actually in

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you're not gonna waste it

You probably close up shop early together and start brainstorming

Julian is a doctor and is either at his clinic or making house calls to his most unwell of patients

Either or he's gone from his abode long enough for you to have some fun with him

The clinic is right next to the shop so whilst you're 99% sure Julian will be too wrapped up in his work to notice you've sneaked away

Where else would julian live but the South End

Its the rougher part of Vesuvia but its always felt like home to him, besides he does like to get rowdy and rowdy it does get in the South End

Julians place is in the vicinity of Mazelinka's and the Rowdy Raven, he did once consider buying the place right next to the famous tavern but was talked out of it by everyone including Malik for obvious reasons

The building is tall and thin like a certain doctor, the paint is chipped and the door looks warped from the cold and damp of this part of the city

It's apparent that the people who live here often secure their homes...differently to how's it done in your part of town

You might have protective charms for your shop but the ever memorable Dr Devorak has about 15 locks on his door

Most look to be from previous owners but your mind wanders to what that set of keys looks like and how often he loses them

Luckily you are in fact a powerful magician and locks are barely a problem

Asra will act as lookout as you enter, this is as much their revenge as it is yours

The stairs are particularly creeky and there is not better way to describe the place than it is exactly how you would imagine

The kitchens untouched and there is very little food there besides some cheese that was not blue when it was first bought

The whole place is a mess actually

Julian doesn't strike me as a man to have very many clothes but the ones he does have are spread all over his living space

The centre of the mess is his home office, it smells of ink and late night anxiety

There's stacks of paper all over the desk, a shelf with various trinkets and too many books for the number of places to put them

You nearly trip over a book on the human skeleton on your way in

It's what you would expect except worse I think

After a few minutes you hear footsteps up to words where you are

You dive behind one of the doors to try and conceal yourself before you notice a fluffy head of hair

It's just asra to see how things are coming along and to offer his help, mostly for his own amusement

He laughs softly, "Did you think I was Ilya, mc? Great hiding place"

You can hear the smirk in his voice although it's not often you don't with asra

Julian is, let's face it, a bit of a coward and has no love for anything horror or spooky except for an anatomically correct skeleton

What can he say, he likes it when people know their bones

The objective is to freak him out but not so much he has an attack

Anxiety or heart

You and asra take your individual liberties with the place, a sprinkle of magic here, a touch there

By the time you're finished you're practically buzzing with excitement at the though of scaring tha pants of your beloved

By the time you hear the gentle humming of your lover its late in the evening and you're already in wait

Julian arrived to find his door ajar, he's forgetful but he certainly didn't leave it like that

Walking up the stairs he swears he hears a ghostly moan, not that that would happen of course and he certainly isn't frightened

Ghosts do not exist except for the one time where they very much did but that was a one time thing

Walking through the doorway to his living space it feels cold and vacant, as though no living thing had ever passed through it

Everything was where he had left it but his own living area felt strange to him; uncanny

It felt as though he was the only living thing in a room that rejected his very presence

"Very funny, P-pasha" he heart started to beat faster than it had before, perhaps dangerous considering how much caffeine the doctor regularly consumed

He invited his mystery jokster to take a bow but they never did and... skittering?

Ah an old nightmare, never had another individual been so haunted by the sound of a mere insect and yet here Julian stood shaking at his own doorway

Everything stopped and he heard giggling? A haunted child from times past perhaps? No this was familier

... That was not funny!

Julian is not at all a fan of his own medicine

He's going to be so dramatic about this for weeks to come, a betrayel of the highest order and by his friend and partner no less

He will almost be more determined to surprise you in your own home now if not just for the small taste of revenge he gets when you're startled by his presence

Give him a hug and a lecture about how he should take better care of himself and once asra has left offer to draw him a warm bath to soothe his nerves

And something else if he's good

[happy spooky season]

[itstheimpossibledream]

Candlelight

Pairing: Geralt xOFC

Warning : Fluff w/Smut, unprotected sex, mention of bodliy fluids, size kink-ish, Oral ( female receiving)

Summary : Geralt rolls into town and the town’s brothel owner has to have him. I’m toying with the idea of Geralt having poor self-esteem or body image?? That’s right she’s giving you predictable tavern vibes with a twist. Let me know what you think! 

All mistakes are mine please do not use or post my fics without my permission!Also feel free to interact submit requests, prompts all dat !

Word count:2,896

He entered the tavern with a sort of brooding charm. The entire room slowed the second he stepped inside. He must be used to people looking at him, he walks past them slowly, setting a pouch of money on the counter.He was served his drink and the room exhaled in unison, as the other men began to return to their conversations.You worked the room sitting on a lap here, showing your bosom while pouring a pint there, a fairly normal night. You could feel him watching you as he drank his ale. You flitted around the tables as men spoke of how Witchers killed both monsters and men. How they were a made up people, capable of magic. In all honesty it seemed a little exaggerated. The man at the bar before you was very dull looking, with the exception of his bright eyes. He seemed strong but, most definitely in need of a bath and a laugh. He had a hard face and remained silent as you refilled his drink. The night wore on and one by one the few men left in the pub began to break off with one of your girls, moving to the rooms further upstairs and outside for quick hookups, to cherish the few hours left before the morning light. You filled the Witcher's drink again and silence crept over the room. As the only two left  in the pub there was an expectation of communication at some point and yet nothing was coming from his end.

"Rough day ?" you ask jokingly 

you notice his jaw clench as he fixes his lips to respond.

"Something like that ." he grumbles before taking another drink. If he didn't want to talk that was fine but, at the very least he had to remove himself from your establishment.

"I'll be gone in a hour."he states as if foreseeing your next comment. 

"Unfortunately, we're closed now." you retort. 

"I'll blow out the candles when I leave." 

"No.You'll leave with me." you said matter-of-factly,covering yourself with your cloak and heading towards the door.

"Okay." he replied calmly, pushing back from the bar and retrieving his sword from the stool next to him. His large frame towered in front of you and you contemplated if this was actually a good idea or, if you had simply spoken to soon. He must have read the dumbfounded look on your face because he quickly made up the distance between the bar and the tavern door, opening it wide and letting in the slight crispness of the night air. He motioned his arm toward the door and you quickly finished blowing out the last of the candles,  graciously accepting his invitation into the night. 

"Do you lock up this way every night?" you wonder what made him ask that, did he plan to come back another night and break in?Or was he simply trying to make small talk ?

"No, usually the men tend to need the attention of a woman a bit earlier."

"Hmmm" you heard his deep voice grumble from behind.

“I imagine your presence here had them intrigued.” you offer politely.

"Why are you walking behind me and not with me?" you asked, turning back to look at him.

"For safety." he mumbled.

"Safety?" you ask through a laugh "I own a brothel."

"Exactly." he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

"So because I own a brothel I must know nothing about protecting myself and-"

"Because you own the only brothel for miles and you offered a stranger to come home with you while paying no attention to the man who's been watching you since we started walking. " He said, turning to glare at the stalker.

You immediately turned and looked past him to see a man scrambling down the cobblestone streets. He was right, maybe you could have been a bit more careful. 

"So you know the location of every brothel?" you smirk up at him.  

"I'm not proud of that." the voice drills lowly

"What's that supposed to mean?" you respond poking him in the ribs. He doesn't laugh, or even smile 

"Means it's easier, as a witcher to live out of sight." you looked up at him much more serious this time. It hadn't even crossed your mind that a man so obviously special could consider himself an outsider.

"What are you looking at ?" his voice was deep and monotone.

You allow your hand up to his face to trace a fresh scratch on the side of his eyebrow. The finger slowly drags downward, over the hair on his chin. He lowers his mouth to you and before thinking about it you meet his lips. He immediately pulls back, before you even get the chance to breathe, you motion to the building behind you to let him know that you've arrived at your home. He lifts a strong, veiny hand to wipe his lips and your heart slightly sinks with the thought that he immediately regrets kissing you. He moves a handful of hair from his face, behind his ear and sighs.

"Look, I don't have money for this. And in any other situation I would give my last dime for your services but-"

" I wasn't offering my services." you retort coldly

"I'm sorry I wasn't trying to-" You could tell even despite the stone facade he was embarrassed now. 

"A completely reasonable misunderstanding ." you say opening the hard wooden door and stepping inside. You turn to look behind you "You coming witcher?" you ask tilting your head and allowing yourself to lend him your most seductive smile. 

"Mph" he grunts, stepping in and closing the door behind you. 

Your lodgings were small but accommodating. He began to work on making a fire as you whirled around the room collecting herbs and other ingredients for dinner. By now the fire was beginning to bring itself to a roar and you set the cold pot , filled with its contents into the hearth.Your mind swirled with ways to seduce the man, or perhaps magic beings like this were entirely incapable of having sex, maybe he knew where all those brothels were because he just longed for company. 

"I ate earlier,  at your establishment." he mumbled deeply, breaking you from your thoughts.

"I don't cook at my establishment." you say calmly "I don't eat there either." you resume pouring a dram and moving to take a seat at the table in the center of the room. You offer him the other glass and he accepts in silence, claiming a seat opposite of yours. You had never crossed a man who didn’t want something from you, that is what made this silence so unbearable. 

"You don't talk much do you ?" you ask smugly 

"Hm." he grunts as his lips turn up into a slight smile. "No."

"Guess it's up to me to force you to speak then." you say, tossing back the rest of your drink and moving towards his chair. There was a space between his legs and the table, you stood there and began undoing the buttons at the nape of your dress. With one last clasp, it was undone and joined the floor. You stood before him in your chemise, entirely visible but putting on the most sultry face you could muster.  He stared at you coldly, whether shocked or off put by your forwardness, no one could say. There was no inkling as to what he may be thinking as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You looked down at yourself wondering if the grey haired gentleman in front of you had even been with a woman before, judging by his bone structure he must have. He was much too handsome to have remained a virgin, especially while frequenting brothels. But, the lack of light in his eyes made you quite sure he was void of interest. You brought your eyes back up to meet him as he ran a hand through his hair, golden eyes unmoved. 

You decide to remove all room for doubt and you pull at the strings of the chemise, letting it lightly float down to meet the rest of your dress. Delicately stepping out of the circle of dresses enshrining your ankles you further entreat into his space. You feel a cold hand slowly brush up your thigh. Finally some feedback, however silent it may be. 

" Still nothing to say?" you asked looking down at him, you could see him processing the fact that you were offering yourself up to him for free, that even the two of you being alone together would in no way be considered modest or preserving of your dignity.Then again how much did you really have left. You were after all a prostitute, turned business owner, now standing in front of a mythical man you weren’t even sure was capable of a sexual relationship. Moreover, tomorrow he would leave your home in daylight and everyone would speculate that you had had him that night anyway. 

Most of your girls lived in apartments above you, this was the hour in which they slept or serviced their own men. A ruckus you had learned to sleep through but, you doubted the man below you would be as capable. His hand works painfully slowly up your thigh. Goosebumps arise on your skin as his hand turns inside to cup the top of the thigh of your alternate leg. You feel your eyes flutter in anticipation before he presses a thumb perfectly onto your clit, his other fingers rub against the lips of your opening. His eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room, intensely fixed on you and your pleasure. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he didn't have to say anything to make you want him. The fire crackling  from the hearth set a pace for the night’s festivities.As his hand worked your mound, you could feel yourself becoming wetter, you even allowed a small whimper to be released from your lips. You see the crease begin to deepen at the edge of his lips, could it be that this stone of a man was actually beginning to smile? You whimper again just to tease him, begging to see more of his smile. He doesn't give you what you want. He simply grunts and moves his hands, to lift you onto the wooden table behind you. For a moment you're actually embarrassed, ironic considering your history of selling yourself prior to being able to purchase the tavern but, it had been a while since you had actually been with a man; so focused on your entrepreneurial endeavors you had managed to leave bedroom endeavors entirely by the wayside. It had been good for you, resigning from that work but, the second he walked into your tavern you wanted him, that could not be denied. You clenched your legs together,in both shame and anticipation. You could feel yourself dripping onto the table below and willed it to stop, despite the knowledge that he now had complete control over you. He pushed your knee apart with one hand, when you didn't willingly open up for him, he forced you to with a more audible grunt. Your breath cuts short and you can tell he notices, despite your attempt to hide. He opens your legs wide for him and scrapes his chair loudly on the floor before you,moving closer. You can feel the heat creeping up your chest and neck as you hold your breath in anticipation. 

"Relax." He whispers into your sopping wet core. You look at him between your legs and he quickly averts his eyes, not allowing you the satisfaction of seeing into him. His tongue laps at your clit and instantly you are unable to contain your sounds. You begin to writhe swinging your hips on the wooden table as he sucks on your clit, bringing a finger to play at your opening. He pushes his finger in and out of you slowly, humming into your core. You can't help yourself anymore, reaching for a fistful of his silver hair pushing his lips closer to you as you grind into his mouth. You pull back on his hair slightly in an attempt to get him to slow down but, all it manages to do is make him return to you hungrier than ever. His fingers pump into you needlessly, as his mouth works you over. You become acutely aware of the volume of your breathing and the want to say his name, practically a need to say his name. To give him the satisfaction of hearing how successfully he is pleasing you. It dawned on you that you had never even asked his name and he hadn't bothered to learn yours. 

"Not yet." he says, pulling back from your heat and standing up.You watch as he pulls gingerly at the laces of his pants, fingers working dangerously quick to expose himself. In no time he is forcing himself inside of you moaning deeply and rutting into you with a dangerous ferocity. You use one arm to prop yourself up onto the table and another to dig your fingernails into his buttcheek. He lets out a low growl and you feel a wetness on your cheek as he forces himself into you, creating a space made perfectly for him. He moans into your ear again and you are forced to relish in the fact that you have finally elicited the desired response from this solid rock of a man. He fills you more and more, encroaching in on the space between your legs, pumping harder into you. He spills into you; overflowing out of you and onto the table. You wrap your legs around him a bit longer, holding him inside you, loving the fullness he’s granting you . A fullness you haven't felt in a long time.You throw your head back in complete release, unabashedly revelling in the comfort of this man. He rocks into you slowly, simply not wanting to stop but, you can feel him growing softer inside you, he would definitely need some time to recover. He pulls himself out of you and you can feel the essence of your  love-making drip from your core to the table. He places his palms on either side of you, focusing on steading his breathing in an attempt to recover some form of dignity and decorum.You peeked behind the chair to see his sword had been leaning up against it.

“I should go.” he says, dipping down to pull up his pants and fumbling with the laces.You quickly grab for his hand.

“Would you like to share a meal with me?”you asked earnestly. He seemed surprised by your willingness to continue spending time with him. You weren’t afraid of him .

“That’s fine.” he gruffed, sitting back down onto his seat. You nakedly grabbed dishes and served him from the pot, reclaiming your seat opposite him. 

“Do you normally do everything without clothes?” he asked not looking up from his bowl.

“Does it bother you?” you asked taking him in. He looks at you plainly.

“Only someone who is uncomfortable with themselves would be uncomfortable being naked around their own home.” you claimed cleaning the spoon in your mouth.

“If your body had as many scars as mine you might feel differently.” he said quietly 

“Do you not think you’re beautiful?” you asked, setting down your spoon, with serious intrigue. 

He chortled clearly confused by your question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been described as such.” he mumbles shyly. 

“Well you are!” you press “ I don’t know why you can’t see it.” you smiled at him.

“I’m not hungry.” he said pushing himself back from the table.You looked at him in bewilderment, had you truly ruined the moment that much? He made his way over to your side of the table, gingerly lifting you from the chair and throwing you over his shoulder. It was terribly masculine and thrilling to be over his shoulder, to feel like his property. He walks you towards the drape that disguises your bedroom for the rest of the living space, pulling it back and laying you on the mattress below. You stare up at him planking above you on the mattress, jaw firm, eyes intensely glowing in the candlelight. He moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I think you’re beautiful too.” he says softly. 

“Well that’s all anyone notices about me.” you laugh

“No.” he tsks with his tongue. “You are brave, and smart, you go after what you want. I admire that.” he whispers as the white sheet lightly blows behind him over the mattress. 

You raise your mouth up to kiss him and he smiles into you. 

“I’d like to be more gentle this time,” he says, eyebrows furrowed,as if you would resist. You crane your neck up to kiss him again and he falls into you.This Witcher was nothing to be afraid of, and even if he could never be in a long term relationship, he was a moment of comfort. A moment in which it was good to know that there was someone out there like this who could fight all the monsters. 

[lyranova]

A Night to Forget

Hi guys~! This was the surprise I mentioned earlier, its my first ever Yamichar fic! But...i’m not really happy with it. Its kinda all over the place to me and they kinda feel out of character, so I may edit this again or delete it I dunno. But maybe you guys will like it! I hope its ok.

Genre: Fluff? Maybe?

Word count: 2,091

Warnings: None except drunkeness

———-

‘How did I end up in this situation?’ Was the first thought that went through Charlotte Roselei’s mind. She had decided to take a much needed break from her girls, now mind you she loves the girls in her squad, but sometimes they could be a bit...much. Normally, Charlotte wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this and yet here she was. She had been to this bar on one other occasion and it was with the other Captains. From what she understood it was where Yami Sukehiro, the Black Bulls captain, liked to frequent. Which was definitely not the reason she decided to stop by. Nope. The thought never even crossed her mind. Charlotte had only decided to come here on a whim, there was certainly no ulterior motive. That’s what she told herself at least.

Charlotte wondered how long it had been since she had last seen Yami. Maybe a month? Maybe longer if she were to guess. A part of her was thankful she hadn’t seen him as she always seemed to make a complete fool out of herself when he was around, but the other part of her, seemed to truly miss him and the way he made her heart race when he looked at her. Charlotte held her drink in between her hands, debating on whether taking a drink would help her relax a bit or if it would only inhibit her reaction if some man tried to make a pass at her or if they were suddenly attacked. Finally coming to the decision that a couple of sips wouldn’t hurt, she took the glass in her hand and took a drink.

Charlotte swore she only had two sips. Two sips! Yet somehow her head was kinda foggy, she felt somewhat sleepy, and warm. Like her face and body was next to a heater. Charlotte shook her head as though it would clear the fog, but all it did was make her dizzy. ‘In this situation, the best course of action would be to go home.’ She thought with a firm nod and she made her way off the bar stool and towards the tavern door, maybe she would have better luck seeing Yami at a future meeting with the Wizard King. Suddenly, Charlotte ran into some solid force that nearly knocked her over. ‘Good job Charlotte, you’re so wrapped up in thinking about Yami Sukehiro that you forgot to open the door!’ She berated herself until the door reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. ‘Wait...doors don’t have arms!’ Charlotte instantly followed the arm to its owner and she felt her heart speed up and her face begin to flush even more.

“ Hey Prickly Princess, you alright?” Came the voice of Yami Sukehiro, the person she had been waiting two hours for. She blinked up at him, she thought for a split second she saw concern in his eyes but decided it was a figment of her drunk imagination. Charlotte pulled her arm out of his grasp and crossed them.

“ I’m fine Yami, I’m just headed back to the head quarters. I’ll see you at the next meeting yes?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight slur in her voice.

“Uh, sure. See you than I guess.” Yami said unsure as he moved away from the door to allow her to leave. She gave him a small nod and walked out the door, but not before slightly tripping over the threshold.

Yami stared after her, was she drunk? Her slightly slurred speech, her glossy eyes, and for sure her flushed face indicated she was. Yami began to walk over to the bar before he stopped, ‘Should I go after her?’ Yami asked himself. Charlotte was a strong woman, she could handle herself if she needed too, that he was more than sure of. She could take out an entire army if she were inclined to do so, but a small part of him wondered if she would truly be alright, that she wouldn’t somehow trip and fall into the water canal or something. Yami began to chuckle at the image of Charlotte falling into the water and her reaction, and as much as he would be amused to see that he eventually sighed and turned around.

Charlotte couldn’t believe she let the opportunity to talk to Yami slip from her fingers, that was the reason she even went to that stupid tavern! But she was so embarrassed that he saw her like this she felt she had to get out of their immediately. ‘Maybe this is all he and I are meant to be. Nothing more than colleagues.’ It was a sad thought but it made sense to her, it seemed like the universe was doing everything it could to keep her from confessing to him. ‘Oh well, I didn’t need a man before and I certainly don’t need one now.’ Charlotte nodded firmly before instantly regretting it, the world began to spin again. Just as she was about to lose her footing, a pair of strong arms grabbed her. Instantly Charlotte whipped around and punched her would be attacker square on the jaw, she wasn’t going to go anywhere without a fight. After her attacker let go, Charlotte moved to her fighting stance, ready for an attack but she was shocked when he stood up straight and she was looking into a pair of familiar grey eyes.

“ Y-Yami?” Charlotte relaxed and looked at him, even in the dim street lantern she could see a black eye forming on his face.

“ That was one hell of a punch princess.” Yami said as he rubbed his sore face, she scoffed.

“ You doubted my strength?” She asked crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him.

“ No, I just never thought I’d be on the receiving end of one of your famous Roselei punches is all.” Charlotte slightly blushed at this and dropped her arms.

“ I’m sorry, I should’ve looked before punching you.” Yami waved her apology away as he walked towards her.

“ It’s fine, c’mon prickly princess, I’ll walk you back to your head quarters.” He walked past her as he said this, Charlotte whipped around to look at him.

“ I don’t need anyone to escort me home.” She told him, although a small voice in her head tried to encourage her to let him escort her home.

“ I know that, you’re one of the strongest people I know. So I believe you can handle yourself but,” Yami turned to look at her. “ I’d feel a lot better knowing you made it there safely myself.” Charlottes face flushed even more at his words, she knew Yami rarely showed people how much he cared for them so she felt truly honored to hear him say that. As she was about to thank him for his concern he continued.

“ Plus the last thing we need is you tripping and falling into some sink hole or something.” Charlotte glared at him and began to walk forward. ‘And here I was thinking he was actually concerned about me!’ She shook her head, she really needed to stop doing that because the world began spinning again. Charlotte stumbled into Yami and she didn’t think her face could get any more red.

“ How much have you had to drink?” Yami asked while keeping Charlotte steady, she looked up at him as she tried to think.

“Half a glass maybe.” She told him, Yami blinked a couple of times at her.

“Half a glass?” He asked and when she nodded in confirmation he sighed and put her arm around his shoulder and began to help her walk. “ You really are a light weight huh?” He added with a chuckle and all Charlotte could do was glare.

“ I’m sorry not everyone has the same alcohol tolerance as you.” Again Yami chuckled and Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

‘How did I end up in this situation?’ Was the first thought that went through Charlotte's mind, her arm wrapped around Yami’s shoulder, him helping her walk back to her head quarters, all because she couldn’t hold her liquor. She and Yami had walked in silence for a while, she had been too embarrassed to start a conversation. She hated that Yami saw her like this, saw that she was so weak that she needed help walking, she hated it. She couldn’t even look at him, so she either kept her gaze on the ground or straight ahead.

“ What were you doing at the tavern anyway?” Yami asked her suddenly, Charlotte quickly looked up at him surprised by his question. “ It’s not really a place you frequent.”

“I...” She began, really unsure of how to answer him, in this state her brain couldn’t really come up with a good excuse so she decided to go with the truth. “ I went there to see you.”

“ To see me? What for?” Yami asked curiously, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why the Captain of the Blue Rose knights would want to see him. As Charlotte’s face flushed even more Yami began to wonder if she had actually had more than one drink.

“ I just haven’t seen you in a while and I wanted to see if you were ok.” She told him softly as she looked away again, Yami stopped walking and looked down at her.

“ You know you could’ve come by the hide out at anytime,” He told her “ so I don’t think that’s the only reason you wanted to see me.” Charlotte blinked, sometimes she could truly forget how perceptive he was. She continued to stare at the ground, hoping it would offer her some answers. If she was being completely honest with herself, she had gone to the bar to not only get away from her girls for a bit, but she also wanted to confess her feelings for Yami.

“ Actually,” Charlotte straightened herself up and looked him square in the eyes. “ there was something else.” This was it. She was finally going to tell Yami Sukehiro how she felt.

“ Ok, go ahead than.” Yami gave her his undivided attention and she couldn’t help but feel very nervous as she stared into his grey eyes. She cleared her throat before she began to speak.

“Yami Sukehiro I lo-“ Suddenly, the world began to dim ‘W-what’s going on? No. Nononono. NO! Not know, why’d it have to be right before I told him I loved him?’ Her voice screamed inside her head as the entire world went dark.

Charlotte Roselei had passed out.

“Hey! Hey Charlotte! Are you ok?” Yami quickly caught her before she could fall, concern etched on his face. When he realized she had only passed out he let out a sigh of relief, he than picked her up and carried her in his arms as he began to walk back to her head quarters. A small chuckle slipped past his lips.

“ Someone really needs to teach you how to hold your liquor better Prickly Princess.”

~~~~~~

The next morning, Charlotte woke up with a pounding headache. She was unable to recall the previous nights events, she knew she had gone to the tavern and had waited for Yami but after that it was all a blur. She looked towards the door as Sol knocked before entering. A wave of relief washed over the young girls face.

“Oh good you’re finally awake Char!” Sol said happily as she hand her Captain a glass of water before sitting down in a chair next to her bed.

“ I told you, call me Captain.” If Charlotte had a gold coin for every time she had to remind Sol of this, she would probably be richer than the King of the Clover Kingdom.

“ Whatever you say Captain Char!” Sol replied cheerfully and all Charlotte could do was sigh as she put her glass on the table next to her bed.

“ Sol, how did I end up back here?” Charlotte noticed the young girls face redden slightly before she answered.

“ U-Um...well.” Sol scratched the back of her head nervously as she recounted the previous night.

As all the memories of the previous night flooded back into Charlotte Roselei’s head when Sol began to explain, the entire Capital could hear the embarrassed scream that came from the Blue Rose Knights head quarters.

——

I’m sorry it’s not that good, there was more I wanted to add like a small scene between Sol and Yami but I might make that a small drabble or something. I just feel like I could’ve done better with this 😞. I also think I rushed the ending a bit too. But hopefully you guys maybe enjoyed it! If anyone wants to be added to the tag list please let me know! I hope you all have a good day~!

Tag List: @eme-eleff

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [78]

vii. nevermind  

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, blood, anxiety, fighting, violence, injuries.

Summary: Reeling from the loss of Clarke and your agreement to not exact revenge, you receive some welcome news.

a/n: HOW ARE WE HALFWAY DONE WITH S6 ALREADY!? the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You toss and turn all night, plagued by dreams and memories of Clarke. 

It’s not enough to be heartbroken while awake, you’re also heartbroken while asleep, unable to escape the loss of your twin. Most of the dreams are weird, a strange collection of memories gathered together and played in your mind. You dream of EMPing Raven and accidentally killing Maya in Mount Weather. You dream of Clarke leaving you and Bellamy in the fighting pits, watching Clarke mercy kill Finn, and landing on the ground for the first time, all of you watching Octavia be the first person back on Earth. You also dream of Monty and your father, and by the early dawn hours, it’s enough to drive you crazy.

You eventually give up on sleep and climb out of bed, leaving Bellamy’s sleeping form behind. As you get dressed for the day, you see Delilah’s dress draped over a chair, along with the bracelet she let you borrow, and you grab both of them and slip out of your room. As expected, both of her parents are downstairs in the tavern, preparing for the day, and only one other patron is in the room, a hooded figure tucked away in a corner, despite the early hour. Blythe Ann and Jae smile as they see you, motioning for you to come sit at the bar. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head and slide into the seat they motion towards, draping the dress across the seat beside it. “No, too busy being haunted by memories.”

Blythe Ann freezes, giving you a look of understanding, as Jae squeezes her shoulder in comfort. “I understand the feeling.”

“Speaking of,” you lift the dress onto the bar and set the bracelet on top of it. “These belong to Delilah, and I haven’t had the opportunity to give them back yet. I’m sorry.”

Blythe Ann shakes her head, pushing the dress back towards you. “You should keep it, Delilah would want you to.”

“I couldn't.”

“Please, we insist.”

You start to protest again, but Jae grabs the bracelet and reaches out for your hand. You give it to him, and he attaches the bracelet around your wrist, smiling as he does. You admire it, remembering the thought you had when you first put it on, a star for Clarke and one for Bellamy, and you fight back your rising tears as you look up at him. “Thank you.”

He just nods and grabs a basket of pastries, placing one on a plate in front of you while Blythe Ann pours you something to drink. You sit at the bar and eat your breakfast, enjoying the silence of the tavern as Delilah’s parents flit about, getting ready for the influx of customers. When you reach for your glass of juice, you accidentally knock it off the bar, sending it crashing to the ground below. You jump down and pick up the pieces, gathering them together as you frantically apologize to Jae, who is coming around the bar with a rag, ready to clean up your mess. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to.”

“No need to apologize, accidents happen.”

He smiles at you and you smile back, standing with the broken pieces of your glass in your hand. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Here, I’ll take it.” Blythe Ann walks over, extending her hand out to you, and you drop the pieces into her hand. As one of them slides out of your palm, the jagged edge turns just enough to cut your palm, and you wince and mutter, “Shit.”

You peer down at the cut, watching as black blood starts to rise to the surface, and you feel a rush of panic as you remember the danger of anyone knowing the color of your blood. Even with your mom back in space, preparing to make Nightblood for the Primes, you’re not sure it's safe to have just anyone knowing your secret. You squeeze your hand closed, hiding the cut from view, just as Jae asks, “Did it cut you?”

“Just a little nick, nothing major.”

He reaches out for your hand, looking concerned. “Let me take a look.”

You shake your head, pulling your hand away, forcing out a casual laugh. “Really, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

He shrugs, accepting your answer, handing you the rag instead. “In case you need it.”

“Thanks.”

He nods and walks off again, back to preparing for the day, and you rip off a strip of the rag and tie it around the cut. You look around, checking to see if anyone saw, but Blythe Ann and Jae are both still working, and the customer in the corner has their head bowed, seemingly unaware of any of their surroundings. You sigh and plop back in your seat, turning back to your breakfast again. It’s not long before you hear someone else coming down the stairs, and when you turn to look, your eyes land on your boyfriend, giving you a small smile as he approaches. He plops down beside you, in the chair unused by your new dress, thanking Jae as he brings Bellamy something to eat too. Once the couple turns back around and starts to work again, Bellamy reaches out and takes your hand, eyeing the torn strip of rag with concern. You look around, eyes a warning, shaking your head to let him know that you’re fine, but this is not the place to talk about it. He nods, before settling on a different topic instead. “Did you get any sleep?”

You nod, not wanting him to worry about you. “Yeah.”

You can tell that he doesn't believe you, but still he lets it go. “I saw Gaia in the hall. She said something is wrong with Madi.”

“What? What is it?” You turn to look at him in alarm, already preparing to stand up and go check on her, but he grabs you and stops you. 

“She’s okay, it’s nothing Gaia can’t handle. It’s Commander stuff. Apparently there’s a dark Commander, Sheidheda, and he’s vying for control. Madi banished Gaia last night, but she told me she’s going to stick around out of sight, in case we need her.”

“Great. Just what we need, a Dark Commander trying to take over my niece's head.”

Bellamy squeezes your hand, “She’s going to be okay, we’ll keep an eye on her. Gaia will too.”

You nod but say nothing else, picking at the last little bit of food on your plate. Bellamy watches you closely, his eyes never leaving you, and he whispers, “The first time I ever heard Clarke’s name, we were still on the Ark.”

You turned to him, intrigued, and he continues, “I had just heard about you actually, The Invisible Twin.” You cringe at the nickname, and he gives you an apologetic look before continuing, “But it worried me. One of the most Privileged families on the Ark discovered to have a second, illegal child, and still you were locked up. It made me worry about Octavia and what they’d do to her. Not enough to keep me from taking her to that stupid party, but still.”

You squeeze his hand, wishing you could carry his guilt for him. He squeezes back before he adds, “Anyways, I was a cadet in my first few days of training, and they used to send us to all the things they didn't want to do. We got a call that there was a fight near the Privileged section that needed to be broken up, so we rushed over there to break the scuffle up. Imagine our surprise when we pull a girl off of a boy, the boy’s nose gushing blood, a black eye already forming. When we question the girl on who she is, she tells us her name is Clarke Griffin. Of course, the second we heard her last name we knew who she was. Then we asked her what happened, and she said that the boy made a comment about her twin, and how she deserved to be floated for being born. So Clarke punched him and told him to apologize, and when he made another comment about how her whole family needed to be floated, she punched him again. It was the only incident report on her record, up until she got arrested with your father.”

You give Bellamy a sad smile, simultaneously happy that he shared this story with you, but sad that your sister is still gone. “You’ve never told me that before.”

“I didn’t really remember it until a few days ago.”

“Clarke has always been fiercely protective, it’s something I love about her.”

“Funny, I love the same thing about you.”

You smile a little. “Must be a twin thing.”

“Must be.”

But as the story sinks deeper, your brain processing it even further, you whisper, “It feels like I’ve given up on her.”

“You haven’t.”

“Bellamy, we’re just letting them walk free. We’re letting Josephine walk around in my twin's body, and we’re doing nothing about it.”

He shakes his head. “No, we are doing something about it. We’re honoring Clarke’s legacy and we’re surviving. We’re doing better, keeping the peace, and building a compound of our own so we can live, truly live, once and for all. Everything she did, she did for her people. For you. For Madi. Building this compound and ending the cycle of violence means that all of us don't just survive, we thrive.”

You catch the reference he makes to Clarke’s speech to Arkadia before Praimfaya, and you think of how desperately Clarke wanted everyone to live, not just survive. How she always encouraged love and friendship and the happy moments in between all the war and fighting and chaos. You look at Bellamy, knowing that he’s right. This is what Clarke would want, this is how you honor her. You nod, relenting with a sigh, “Okay, so when do we meet with Russell?”

-

You and Bellamy head to the palace to meet with Russell, Miller in tow. Everyone insists that you bring a third party, someone who wasn't locked up for figuring out the secret of Clarke’s death, so the two of you decide on Miller, despite the fact that he’s just as much of a hothead as you and Bellamy. 

Bellamy takes the lead at the meeting, knowing you can barely stand to look at Russell, let alone talk to him, and you stand by your boyfriend’s side, jotting down notes as you listen to Russell’s plans. As the meeting is nearing its end, Bellamy looks at Russell, summing everything up in one succinct sentence, “In exchange for ignoring that you murdered Clarke…”

He trails off when he hears the door open, and you all look towards it, watching as Josephine steps inside, her hair pulled back, Clarke’s clothes gone from her body. It's a shock to you to see her dressed the way she is, and you freeze as she comes to a stop behind Russell, eyeing all of you with curiosity. You hear Bellamy finish his earlier sentence, “You build us a compound.”

You feel Russell’s eyes shift to you, but your gaze never leaves your twin’s body, trying to convince your brain that it’s not hers anymore, someone else is inside at the controls. “What about the sister, mother, and child? Will they agree?”

Your brain registers his words and you flit your gaze over to him, annoyed by the words he used. “The sister will take care of our people.” 

Bellamy reaches out and squeezes your hand before he redirects the conversation, “How long will it take to build?”

Before Russell can answer, Josephine clears her throat, waiting for his attention. He holds up his finger, “Just a moment, sweetheart.”

Your gaze moves back to Josephine, watching her tap impatiently on her arm, waiting for your meeting to finish. But the longer you watch her, the quicker you realize that the tapping on her arm is rhythmic, repeating a small pattern. You flip a page in your small notebook, waiting for the pattern to start again, and then you furiously start to write.

●— 

●—●● 

●● 

●●●— 

● 

You almost laugh in shock when you realize it’s Morse Code, and you rack your brain trying to remember the translations from the brief moment in time that Clarke learned Morse Code in school, but you struggle to remember. You get pulled from your thoughts by Bellamy putting his hand on your shoulder, and you tug the notebook close to you, hiding it from everyone as you turn to look at him. “What?”

“Russell asked if we agree.”

You barely glance at the man as you answer, “Yeah, we’re agreed.”

“I'll order construction to begin.”

You turn and look between Bellamy and Miller, nodding towards the door, trying to hide your excitement. “Let's go.”

They nod and follow you out, the guards at the door closing them behind you, and you jog down the hall, putting distance between you and any spying eyes. Bellamy pulls you to a stop, sensing the shift in your energy, looking at you in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Didn't Pike teach you Morse Code?”

Bellamy nods and Miller shrugs, “I slept through most of Earth skills.”

You shake your head at him, and focus your attention on your boyfriend. “I remember Clarke learning it too, but I can’t remember what each symbol means.”

Bellamy shakes his head, still not understanding, and you push the notebook towards him, getting excited. “Josephine was tapping out Morse code on her arm.”

He takes your pen and quickly translates, you and Miller looking over his shoulder as he does.

●— A

●—●● L

●● I

●●●— V

● E

You nearly cry with relief when you read the word, looking up at Bellamy with tears in your eyes. You can see the emotion written across his face, a mix of shock and happiness as he stares back at you, both of you overcome with emotion. Miller looks between the two of you, still not sure he understands. “What does it mean?”

You turn to him, your grin growing even wider. “It means Clarke's alive, and we're gonna get her back.”

-

next chapter

[snowbellewells]

CSSS20 Fic: “One Little Ray of Hope”

Merry Merry Christmas @let-it-raines!!! Can you believe we ended up being each other’s Secret Santas?!?  It was all I could do not to spoil the surprise yesterday when you posted your amazing story gift for me, but here I am finally with yours in return, and I truly hope you will enjoy it.

You mentioned that you like friends-to-lovers and mutual pining, which I genuinely tried to do to the best of my ability. However, I discovered neither of those things are actually types of fic I have done much.  This comes out more like bantering crushes, and Emma-in-denial-finally-admitting-what-everyone-else-already-knows. I did set it in the Enchanted Forest for you, and I tried to mix in the humor and the feels so it has a bit of everything. And there are Christmas touches but it isn’t holiday overwhelming. I got to the stopping place I envisioned though, and it just wasn’t enough. I hope you will forgive me if I say this is only Part One and there will be a Part Two coming shortly once the holiday hoopla dies down. (In all honesty, I was anxious that my story was for you - I love your writing so much, and I am not at all sure this measures up! And then I read your gift and was even more blown away.)  Still, here’s hoping this brings a smile to a shipmate like you who has been so friendly and kind and made me smile with your writing all year long!  Part Two - and hopefully some fic cover art - to follow soon!)

“One Little Ray of Hope”

by: @snowbellewells

               Though the fire in the stone hearth was blazing merrily, the lights from their lamps combatted the dark sky and frigid wind blasting flurries of snow outside their windows, and the jovial voices of many of their regulars mingled on the air to make things cozy inside the little inn and tavern, Emma Swan still shivered at the winter's chill. There, was some hint of frost that wouldn't go away, forming small icy crystals inside her chest - one particular voice that always stood out from the rest to her ears, was missing. She cursed herself for noticing, cursed him for being so unmistakable, and slammed an empty tankard onto her tray as she cleared the just-vacated table more violently than she had meant to.

               Naturally Ruby would be passing by just then, on her way to wait on some exuberant new arrivals, and she playfully arched one of her dark brows with a teasing smirk. "Looks like someone's a little frustrated this evening."

               From over her shoulder, where Emma hadn't even realized anyone was nearby, Tink tittered with a playful little giggle to Ruby, "Well, you know, we do seem to be short some of Emma's favorite guests this evening…" pirate was not her special anything. Honestly, she was just tired, overworked, overheated, and ready for some fresh air away from the evening crowd. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Captain Killian Jones, with his unfairly blue eyes and his stomach-flipping accent wasn't here pestering her and getting in her way. What did she care if his farewell to her before he set sail nearly two months' back was that he would return in time for the Yuletide festivities? False hope and nonsense, all of it anyway…

               And yet… tomorrow was Christmas day, her traitorous mind whispered as she plunked her heavy tray of dishes on the counter where the Widow Lucas - the proprietor of their inn, and 'Granny' to all of them - was serving up orders and Ashley was doing dishes as fast as she could to serve warm bread and hearty stew on them once more. Again, her approach was none too gentle, as she huffed out a breath of air and pushed her hair from her face impatiently.

               "Careful there, my girl. Any dishes you break will be comin' from your pay," the widow threatened idly. Granny put on a tough front - one had to in a rough and tumble harbor town - and she meant business if she had to bring out her crossbow from where she kept it close to hand beneath the counter, but she was a soft heart beneath the necessary bluster and hard shell. She loved all "her girls" and most of her patrons dearly, wanting them to know they were welcome and cared for in her inn - and while many like she and her granddaughter had little in the way of blood-related family, she aimed to give them a feeling of home in her place.

               Emma smiled slightly, acknowledging Granny's words without comment, despite knowing the older woman would do no such thing. She unloaded the dirtied tankards and bowls more carefully into the soapy water for Ashley and forced herself to draw a couple of deep breaths as Granny loaded her up with the next order.

               Just as Emma moved to lift the tray and move off again, Granny placed her own hand over Emma's kindly, keeping her there until Emma met her eyes. "Don't let Ruby irk you. She means no harm," was the quietly offered advice, to which Emma nodded sagely, already knowing as much. It was only when Granny winked and added, "Of course, if you're awaiting some handsome sailor, I wager he'll be here soon," that Emma let out an exasperated huff and spun away to the sound of her boss and pseudo-grandmother's laughter at her back. Shaking her head, she seethed, 'Everyone thinks I'm waiting for Jones…. Well, I'm not!'

               The night went on without much further interruption; the snow fell in continued flakes, swirled and eddied by the window and pilling up on the windowsills. Inside their crowded tavern, however, the cozy warmth continued to rise right along with the songs and laughter of those gathered within. Soon Emma found her face flushed, cheeks pinked from the heat and close quarters. Even as the gathered crowd began to dwindle, slowly trickling out the door and homeward in twos and threes, as she, Ruby, Tink, and Ashley began to wipe down empty tables and see to storing up leftover food and seeing drinks stoppered and sealed for the night. Granny had gone upstairs nearly an hour before as the midnight hour had come and gone, claiming her old bones needed the rest, and Mulan, who did not appear the musical type, but who had once confessed when more than a bit tipsy on dwarf mead that her parents had seen that she was learn all sorts of marriageable skills in the hopes of seeing her matched with a smart, dashing husband before she had left hoe to make her own way - had switched from plunking out bawdy sea shanties and reels for the gathered revelers and lighting begun pecking out chords to a few softer and slower Yuletide carols as a background accompaniment to the cleaning and the quieter murmurs of those who still lingered in conversation over their last drinks.

               Not long after, Ruby silently slipped out the kitchen exit in back with the solemn huntsman who came every night to break bread and drink not at all other than to drink in her presence and bask in her company had stood and followed her like a silent shade as she beckoned from the doorway. Ashley had headed upstairs herself for some rest in her own apartments, as had Tink, saying the last town gazette's gossip section was calling her name. Mulan had paused at the door before heading to her own house a couple streets over, telling Emma she would make rounds of the block first, to see that all stragglers had gone home, and no trouble was lingering about them before she left.

               Emma thanked the beautiful warrior sincerely, knowing that it was no more or less than the other woman did every night, determined that these friends who took her and all others at face value, welcoming all lost and weary travelers without trying to change them were safe and secure. She would see no harm come to the Widow Lucas and her adopted "sisters" on her watch; Emma knew Mulan took that charge upon herself as a sworn duty. The rest of them would never have put such weight on her shoulders, but each one of them also slept easier knowing Mulan was nearby. The slim build, shining curtain of silky black hair and delicate features could have long ago earned Mulan the hand of any prince, pirate, or nobleman who laid eyes on her, but those physical attributes all deceptively hid her strength, speed, and core of deadly steel if anyone threatened harm to those she loved.

               "We'll be alright," Emma assured again, as Mulan bid her goodnight. "Everyone was in good spirits this evening. No fights, no trouble. Please rest easy once you get home. I can't imagine anything should happen until we see you again tomorrow."

               "As you say," the raven-haired woman replied simply, and with a slight dip of her head in a bow, she turned and slipped into the night with such soundless agility and grace that she seemed to melt into the darkness - unseen in mere seconds.

               Closing the door at last, Emma latched it securely, making certain the tavern and rooms above were locked properly for the night. She then began to move about the large, open main room, blowing out the candles still left aglow on scattered tabletops and snuffing out the wall sconces as well as she made a final pass around the main space. At last her final chores were complete, one last lit candle in her hand as she stood before the front window, looking down the moonlit street toward the docks for a moment longer. Captain Jones and his crew had yet to be seen in town, and while she could tell the others she didn't care - could even tell herself that in the light of day - here alone in the silent frosty night, Emma couldn't help wondering where he might be, and if he were well.

               "Jones, if you're out there," she murmured, hoping only the snow and ice and the Christmas star would hear her, "Take care or yourself… and be safe 'til we meet again."

               She had crossed the darkened room, placed her hand on the stair rail and was on the first step up to the second floor, when she heard the lightest rapping at the side door into the alley. Pausing there, Emma held her breath, listening uncertainly for the knock again, hardly daring to hope. She only had her candle in hand, the shadows long around her. Were Ruby and her huntsman still outside keeping each other warm despite the winter's chill? Could there be a prowler who had lain in wait until their self-appointed guardian had left for the night, or might it be the visitor she had been promised? The face she had looked for in anticipation every time the inn's door had opened to welcome a new patron that night? She would deny it to anyone, but those dark brows arched up into his windswept hair in challenge or jest, over eyes as blue as his beloved ocean, had been sorely missed; she had hoped to see him home again for Christmas more than she wanted to allow herself.

               She drew nearer to the side entrance, not wishing to give any her presence if the person on the other side bore ill intent, but straining to hear all the same; seeking some sign she was right and to confirm the feeling she had about who awaited on the other side. Gathering her courage, Emma reached for the fireplace poker beside the large stone hearth. Its embers were now dead for the night, but only a short while ago it had been blazing hotly, heating the entire space. She was not some frightened child at any rate; she'd hold her own against any intruder if the opened door led to a nasty surprise.

               Sure enough, the rapping came again, more firmly and with the added hushed entreaty, "Swan? Are you still about, Lass? Emma Swan! It's Captain Jones if you're still about and wish to see your sailor!"

               Her concerns brushed aside at the tones of that voice she could not mistake, Emma let the metal of her makeshift weapon clatter against the stone as it dropped from her fingers. With an exuberant little cry, she was at the door and lifting the latch in a second. The candle in her hand flickered and nearly went out with the stunned breath that left her upon glimpsing his handsome form once again after so long away.

               To his credit, Jones didn't tease; instead looking rather stunned himself as his gaze appeared busy drinking her in as well. Soon, he slipped inside out of the blustery chill and, seeing that her hand holding lighted taper was shaking considerably, he took it from her with care and reached to light the nearest sconce, casting their immediate surroundings with enough warm glow by which to see.

               Finally, she regained enough of her faculties to speak, and Emma stuttered, "It seemed you were not coming, Captain. Ruby mocked me all day for my foul temper and Tink joined in of course to say it was due to my missing and certain pirate and his crew. The busybodies!" she scoffed. But then she reached across the space between hem to catch his hand. "I did worry you might have been arrested, or hurt, or wrecked…or lost…any number of things. Or perhaps I gave you no clear assurance, and instead you had moved on, not to return."

               Killian shook his head just barely, looking troubled that she could even think he would abandon or fail her so easily. "Hardly Lass," he stated fervently, a sort of fiery glow in his eyes she had not seen before. I did say I would return by Yuletide, did I not? A pirate I might be, but I still have my honor.  It would take more than the increased vigilance of the Evil Queen and her forces to keep me away."

               Emma sucked in a worried breath at the cause of his delay. They all hoped to keep far under the notice of the usurper monarch - as cold and cruel as she was darkly attractive, she would end a life as easily as snapping her fingers, and at the slightest provocation, real or imagined. Life had been all the harder and more fraught with danger since Regina had wrested the crown from her kind and gentle stepdaughter Snow White, the rightful heir to the crown. If Killian were wanted by Queen Regina and had snuck back into her borders only to keep his promise, Emma could not bear to consider what would happen if he were discovered.

               Now was the moment of truth, before anymore needless time slipped past. It was time she told him what she had realized while no teasing friends or rowdy onlookers were listening in. "I missed you," she finally managed to croak out around the lump in her throat. "Thank you… Killian…for keeping your word."

               He dipped his head to look into her eyes where she had dropped her gaze to her feet. A strong, calloused hand, warm and gentle in its intent, tipped her chin back up to stare into his searching gaze. "Of course, Swan - Emma. All I could have wished for this holiday was…" he paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously and a hand coming up to worry the spot behind his ear - gesture she had long ago noticed signified nervousness. But he plunged on determinedly, "was to see you again, to see you and give you this."

               Pulling a small pouch from some inner pocket of his long leather jacket, he held it out to her with sparkling eyes, appearing almost boyish for a moment in his eagerness to see her open his gift, and whispering "Happy Christmas, Emma," as he placed it in her upturned palm.

               Emma's mouth formed a surprised "O", having not expected or hoped for anything more than his safe return. Opening the ties, she tilted the soft material until the item within spilled out in her hand. Holding up a long, golden chain with an exquisite stone of lovely pale green, near to jade in color, swinging from it, she was enchanted by the pendant he had brought her. "Oh, it's gorgeous," she breathed, rather stunned at how nice the piece of jewelry was.  She wore (or even owned, to be honest) little of such finery.

               "It's sea glass," Killian explained, taking the piece back in nimble fingers when she offered it, then turned, lifting her long hair so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten it for her. "Though sailors believe sea glass is good luck, that it keeps the wearer safe, and I would always wish you to be so, I knew it had to be yours because of the color. It reminded me vividly of your eyes…" Though the necklace was secured, his fingers still grazed featherlight along her skin, causing prickles of awareness to course throughout her body, and his own voice had turned decidedly husky.

               At last, Emma turned to face him once more, breaking the trance between them, but needing to thank him, and for him to see how touched she was by his gift, even if her voice was breathless and her words trembled with emotion. "I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have, but I adore it all the same. I'll treasure it, Killian. Truly." And without further hesitation or pausing to think and second guess, Emma threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to her. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest, breathing in the salty, spicy essence of him and nuzzling against his chest. She realized with a force that almost knocked her off her feet that she never wanted to let go.

               She felt Killian Jones' fingers thread through her hair, stroking gently, reverently as they stood there wrapped up in each other, swaying slightly in the candle glow and the howl of the wind outside. Emma felt they might indeed stay that way forever, and that neither of them would mind at all, until more rapid knocking interrupted their silent moment. The door handle rattled urgently, and she heard a nervous voice she recognized as Killian's first mate's speaking in hurried words. "Cap'n, you told me to summon you when an hour had gone. I've already seen one patrol of black guard go by. If they notice the Jolly in the harbor…"

               "Aye, Smee," he gritted out, stopping the anxious flow of words. "Head back and make ready to sail. I'll follow in a moment."

               He sighed as he turned back to Emma, tracing his thumb over the apple of her cheek and pausing to caress the dimple in her chin as he cradled her face in his hand.

               "You have to go," she acknowledged reluctantly; hating it, but understanding and wanting to see him safe, just as he did her. Her words were wistful, wishing he could stay there with her - or that she could run away with him - but it was too much, too quickly, no matter how she dreaded being parted again so soon.

               "I must, for now," he affirmed, the regret lacing every syllable of his words. "But I hope that now you know I will return."

               She nodded mutely, her mind trying to memorize every detail of his face, his voice, his touch, until she could see him again. "And I will be here waiting for you," she promised with equal intent.

               Bending slightly, Killian brushed his lips against her cheek, his stubble tickling her skin and again making her shiver at the sensation. It was the lightest and most gallant of kisses, and yet it only served to make her burn for more - for him to take her in his arms, for those firm lips to kiss her everywhere, for him to take her to her own apartments, or back to his cabin. It would keep her burning for however long they might be kept apart.

               As he had to leave, heading out again into the dark night, Emma stood at the door watching until the very second his vanished from her sight, no longer able to deny how anxiously she would await his return.

[teresa-of-ficwill]

Dead End Journey (or not?) - The Witcher

Summary:

When you fall in love with the witcher, things are never going on easy. Jaskier knew it. But what if you fell in love with two witchers? And also met a really gorgeous woman, who you can't get out of your head? It gets even more complicated.

However, maybe… Jaskier even likes all this a little bit. Or not a little? Anyway, time will tell.

CHAPTER 1

Jaskier was sure that something had gone wrong. Completely wrong. He had never imagined hanging around with a broken heart but there he was. Shattered to pieces. Rejected by his only one.

Actually, Geralt wasn’t his only one in common understanding. Jaskier slept with so many people he could not even count. Men, women… to him that didn’t matter. He was attractive, funny, and good at sex – people loved him for that. But everyone has to stop somewhere. And Jaskier thought he was ready to stop if Geralt was by his side. As a witcher, as a friend… and as a lover.

But his beloved man had always chosen another one. Yennefer. It was really predictable, to be honest, but Jaskier didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to believe. Yen… she is a bitch. But she is really attractive, hot and good-looking bitch. She treated Geralt like shit and he fell for that. Oh, what a shame. But, maybe, Geralt didn’t want to be loved. Maybe he just wanted to be controlled.

Jaskier was not sure but he actually didn’t want to figure it out. He just wanted to forget but it seemed impossible. So, he decided to just get drunk till he forgets his own name. Really good idea.

This woman… she was beautiful. Blond hair, nice smile, and drunk green eyes – absolutely his type. She wanted him. She really did. So, he let her hit on like he always does. Good sex can never cause a threat, you know.

She treated him well. Jaskier didn’t know why he noticed that but he did. She was gentle and slow, getting sure they both would have their part of pleasure. Usually, Jaskier is in charge in his one-night stands but this time he gave her a chance to take control.

“You didn’t ask my name,” she said, suddenly letting his cock out of her mouth.

“W-what?”

“You didn’t ask my name,” she repeated.

“Oh… I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t be, dear. I didn’t ask your name either. My name is Jane.”

“Jaskier,” he said after a few seconds, a little bit confused.

“Nice to meet you, Jaskier,” she smiled playfully and continued sucking his dick.

The bard felt confused just for the next few seconds but pleasure made him forget about that pretty fast. It’s not too strange to ask the name of a man whose dick you are sucking at this moment, is it? Everyone did it at least once, right?

Then Jane decided to ride him. He wasn’t against it. She felt… good. Like any pretty woman. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it was really attractive. Sometimes Jaskier loves not to be in charge and just take pleasure given to him by someone else. It was a good way to forget. Not to think about Geralt and Yennefer. And – for god’s sake – not to think about Yen riding Geralt’s cock just like Jane rides his.

The picture went through his mind really fast and it was so disgusting Jaskier almost lost all his sexual arousal. But suddenly Jane kissed him. Gently but with passion. She didn’t kiss him before, they were just having sex, so it was all of a sudden but he liked it.

So Jaskier closed his eyes and imagined Geralt kissing him like that. Kissing while riding his dick. Geralt’s moans with his deep voice… the bard is sure that would sound amazing. Unbelievably perfect. Right.

Picture which went through his mind this time was so bright, so wanted, and inaccessible that it made Jaskier cum really hard. It was literally one of the best orgasms he has ever got. With close eyes, dreaming about impossible… the bard suddenly felt so miserable he felt himself about to cry. Fortunately, he managed to get a grip before he opened his eyes.

Jane smiled, fixed her hair, and got off him.

“Was it… fine?” Jaskier asked when she lied down by his side. He got so distracted with his dreams so he felt unsure if she got her orgasm.

“It was… quite good actually,” she took a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it with a match. “You gave me a chance to be in charge and I highly appreciate it. Most of the men are too afraid of the idea of being dominated. Ugh… boring people.”

“Yeah,” the bard smiled. “They’re just too afraid of losing control.”

“Like everyone, dear.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“So…”, started Jane, while lighting another cigarette, “It’s time to get to know each other better. It should be easier as we had sex already.”

“Is it really necessary?” Jaskier asked.

“Oh, you don’t want to?”

“No! No, I mean… you don’t have to do it just because we had sex. Quite good sex, actually, but it’s not the point. It’s not your duty.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Jane smiled and put a cigarette to her lips, taking a deep breath. “I never do anything I have to. Just the things I want,” she exhaled. “So, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How comes such a pretty boy has such a bad taste in women?” Jane asked, making the bard choke on air.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I have said.”

“Wait, I just… don’t understand. I've slept with you and now you're saying I have a bad taste in women?” asked Jaskier feeling confused.

“Yes. Yes, I do” Jane smiled. “You had known me for like two seconds and, when I proposed you sex, you agreed immediately”.

“But you are beautiful! Why should I have said «no»?”

The woman shook her head.

“It's not only about me, you silly bard. It's about every woman you have ever been with. I've heard about it pretty much. Rumors...” she pressed the end of a cigarette to her lips then exhaled. “They spread. Faster than you think.”

“So, you have known who I am when bumped into me in a tavern?”

“Not really. I was aware you look like this famous bard and you have a lute but I didn’t know for sure” Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Not before you said your name. But let’s return to the question I asked.”

“I don’t know what to answer. And what’s so bad about rumors? They make me popular among women... and men”, Jaskier smiled awkwardly. Actually, he didn't want to share his sexuality with his one-night-stand but it seems like he'd already done that.

“Do you think it's for good?”

“Sorry?”

“Being widely known as a good lover, not a good poet”, Jane explained. “Is this what you want? To be just another man who was quite good in bed and that's all?”

“Are you trying to insult me?”

“I'm trying to understand. And somehow prove you have a bad taste in women”, Jane chuckled.

“I do NOT have a bad taste in women. Stop repeating that!” Jaskier exclaimed.

“But it's true. You sleep with every woman who appears on your way. Old or young, virgin or whore... to you it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I think it... doesn't”.

“You are choosing everyone. It's not good taste, I swear".

“What's it then?”

“You should ask yourself, not me. But it seems like it's just... loneliness”.

“Loneliness?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes,” Jane smiled kindly. “It's just loneliness which leads us in beds of strangers. We have sex and then we move on without even remembering their names. We break so many beautiful hearts of people who don't deserve it because ours have already been broken”.

She put the cigarette out and then threw it on the floor.

“We are living in a fucking nightmare”, added Jane quietly. “And destroy every person we touch”.

They both kept quiet for a while. The woman took a new cigarette from the box, stood up, and walked to the fire, giving Jaskier a great view of her naked body. She was beautiful and he couldn't deny it. But also, she was smart.

The bard didn't like to admit it but he always was somehow afraid of smart people. They analyze him. They look deeply into his soul without any permission and reveal secrets he didn't think he had.

“If we have this kind of conversation anyway,” said Jane, forcing Jaskier to look at her again. “Tell me... is there someone who you secretly in love with? Oh... and don't look at me like that, dear. I just wanna understand how many things we have in common”.

“No”, answered the bard immediately.

Jane smiled. “You're terrible liar, Jaskier. At least now.”

“Oh, well... there is someone.”

“Someone who broke your heart but you still love him with all the pieces, I guess”, the woman lighted her cigarette.

“How did you know it's him?”

“I didn't. It was just a guess and you proved it", Jane pressed the end of a cigarette to her lips. “So what is his name?”

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“Is it that man you always sing about? Everyone knows him as a White Wolf or something like that,” the woman asked, slowly returning to bed.

“Yes’.

“Oh, I'm sorry’.

“Why?”

“Because I know this kind of men. They are brave and lovely and beautiful... and absolutely insensitive when it comes to the affairs of the heart. He could accidentally break your heart and still don't know he did it.”

“Are you saying that Geralt doesn't have feelings?” Jaskier chuckled. “It's just a stupid myth about the witchers”.

“No, you didn't get it. I say that Geralt... ugh, I didn't think it would be so hard to talk about,” Jane looked at the bard before she sat at the corner of the bed. “I say that witchers are bad when it comes to feelings. They don't know how to love. They are not emotionless, they are just... inexperienced. I'm not sure it's the right word but still. They don't want to cause hurt. But they make mistakes and break our hearts just because they don't know how to do it right. And it is... the saddest thing I have ever understood.”

“Some witcher also broke your heart, didn't he?”

“Yes. And I thought I was fine until I've found myself hanging around and sleeping with strangers”.

“So, you think there is no chance I will be happy with Geralt?” Jaskier asked and it seemed like a very important question to him.

“Depends on you”.

“How so?”

“If you are ready to teach him how to love and let him break your heart again and again and again with his somehow stupid mistakes... well, maybe you'll have a happily ever after. I don't know.”

“You don't seem happy.”

“I didn't try. I’ve failed before I even started. But you can succeed.”

“You think so?”

Jane smiled kindly. “I'm sure you can. It's about patience... and love probably, but... you won't succeed if you aren't patient enough.”

“Are you still in love?” asked Jaskier after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Huh?”

“Are you still in love with your witcher?”

The woman smiled again but there was a pain behind her smile. “I wanna say I'm not but that would be a lie.”

“What's his name? Maybe... maybe I know him.”

She waited for a couple of seconds. “Lambert. He's son of a bitch but I had fallen for him without even noticing. And then it was too late.”

“What happened between you two?” asked Jaskier. Maybe it was quite inappropriate question, but he wanted to know.

“He cheated on me. And then again. And again and... He shattered my heart into pieces and I ended this relationship because I was nearly to end myself. I'm in love with him but he didn't worth my death. I still have some kind of self-respect, you know.”

“He absolutely did not worth your death. You're an amazing woman. You can find someone better.”

“As well as you, dear. But here we are, talking about our broken hearts.”

Jaskier wanted to answer something but he couldn't find any proper words. Because Jane was right and he understood that. They both can find someone who will love them, who will care about them, who won’t break their hearts.

Oh, no, it’s not right. Truth be told, it always was a dead-end journey and they still took it. They chose the most painful path. They made their hearts bleed, all by themselves. And now they have to pay the cost.

Jane took his hand, forcing Jaskier to look at her again. “Does it feel like hell when you think about him?” she asked.

“Yes, it does”.

“Do you like it?”

Jaskier swallowed loudly, “Yes, I do.”

You can find the next chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364243/chapters/72132126#workskin

[deathbydarkelves]

I decided to make playlists for Cathala and Tarinne plus explanations for why I chose each song because I entered one of those ADHD fugue states and if I didn't finish this task I would die

Anyway here are the two links (they're youtube playlists because I don't have spotify. I would obviously recommend using an adblocker if you're just gonna watch on youtube) and the explanations for each song are below the cut :) Each playlist is about an hour long.

For Tarinne’s:

1. Foggy Nights: I consider this her theme so putting it first as a sort of intro only makes sense.

2. Here’s a Health to the Company: I think this works as an example of her general disposition. She’s a people person, and always a fan of singing these sorts of songs in taverns, on ships, or what have you. It also kind of feels like a sendoff to soldiers, which I imagine symbolizes her joining the Sentinel Army and quickly thereafter fighting in the Third War.

3. Wartime Prayers: Somewhat self-explanatory, this is symbolizing her seeing war for the first time, but I also included it because the last line transitions SO WELL into the next song.

4. The Hollow: This song is an intro to an album I've never heard so I don't know the context, but I really love it because it sounds like someone praying to their deity and like I mean c'mon. Elune. Tarinne's praying to Elune to guide her through the war. Do I need to elabo-

5. Wave Walker: KILL DEATH MAIM AHAHAHAHA

6. Isil Elun’falo: Just a super rad fan-made night elf song that's basically "wow we sure do love Elune" said in twenty different ways for four and a half minutes. But it ROCKS and I LOVE it.

7. Chewing Cotton Wool: This song is about losing a loved one (I did have to check but yeah that's what it is) and I use it to symbolize Tarinne losing her mom during the war. The last line, which includes the song's title, I especially like. It's referring to how morticians (apparently) put cotton gauze in a corpse's throat and mouth to keep body fluids in and make the face look more natural. So there's a fun fact for you.

8. See U Soon (Song for Dad): Just a short lofi piece to rest a bit, and it was also chosen because the title's in reference to Tarinne growing closer to her dad after losing her mom. She still visits him at his leathers and furs shop in Stormwind fairly often, especially after dangerous adventures. She just wants to make sure he knows she's alright ;-;

9. No Lullaby: Right back into it with a song that I use to represent Tarinne's general feeling of not being able to go home because it's not there anymore. She's felt like this since the end of the Third War, but it's especially strong since the whole Teldrassil thing. But I like the ending, "who said you're on your own," because it contrasts the repeating of "alone" in the rest of the song. And it's kinda like "hey, listen, you're not the only one who feels like she can't go home." I mean that's probably how basically every single night elf feels right now skxnks

10. The Moss: This song juxtaposes classic fairy tales with scientific facts about the world and I love it to BITS. I'm using it here to represent both Tarinne's love for storytelling but also her sort of... part-time historian/archaeologist/conservator career.

11. Rasputin: I just associate this song with her for some reason and this was the best place to put it.

12. Electric Feel: Moving on to focus more on Tarinne's relationship with Cathala now. This is an extremely great and somewhat 😏 song that I also included because the electricity theme is appropriate because Cathala has lightning powers and y'know it's from Tarinne's perspective or whatever.

13. Bedroom Hymns: You know why this is here.

14. Movement: I can't talk about love songs without talking about Hozier, okay. This is just a nice, slower song to relax a bit with.

15. Never Let Me Go: I have an entire goddamn music video in my head with Cathala and Tarinne for this song and it’s very dramatic and emotional and I had to include this song or I’d die. Basically just listen to near the end of this song when she's repeating the title over and over, and imagine the two of them seeing each other at opposite ends of a battlefield after the dust settles and they rush towards each other and fall to their knees holding on as tightly as they can because they got separated early on and each thought the other was dead. Then you'll know how I feel when I listen to this song.

16. Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control: First of all I love the title, and second of all there's a big section in the middle (1:49 to 2:47) that I like to interpret as the two of them grappling with the fact that they're not really quite sure who or what they're fighting for anymore. Their people, yeah, but there's so many alliances and semi-permanent enemies and only-on-every-other-thursday-enemies all intertwined and the world is just so very confusing and they're trying to make the best of it. Elf school didn’t include international, interracial politics in its curriculum. It did however include how to properly plant trees, and AP calculus (this is a joke).

17. In Dreams: I like to imagine this song is something the two of them would say to each other, as a way of saying “even when everything we know is gone, even when the world ends, I will still be by your side. And if I’m not, don’t fear, for I will find you.” It makes a nice note to end on :)

For Cathala’s:

1. muse: Just a nice lofi intro to get us into things :) I don't see this song as her theme, like I do with Tarinne and the first song in her playlist, but I like it quite a bit. I don't actually really have a theme for Cathala yet, I'm currently going with a version of Way of the Monk from WoW's OST but I'm still looking for something better.

2. Frogs Singing: I included this because it's about just appreciating nature, which works because night elf and also mindfulness and meditation is a whole thing.

3. Tongues: This is a song about feeling distant from your peers which is like Cathala's whole existence! She's this weird mix of two cultures and ultimately she feels out of place regardless of where she is or who she's with. Also the theme with not understanding what people are saying works because the poor woman had to learn Pandaren from scratch and that shit ain't easy. I think blizz said somewhere probably that Common is just a language that EVERYONE knows inherently because Video Game but that's bullshit in my opinion. I'll allow spells that let you understand foreign languages to an extent (Comprehend Languages from D&D lets you understand the LITERAL meaning only, which I like), but every culture and species in the universe knowing Common is silly if you think about it for more than two seconds.

4. Kung Fu Fighting: I'm legally required to include this song. Also I prefer the Kung Fu Panda version, I'm sorry.

5. Harder Better Faster Stronger: I vicariously experience having a great work ethic through Cathala and that's why this song is here because she has 999 Determination and does Too Many push-ups every day or something idk. I was gonna say "every morning" but I have a headcanon that elves only need to sleep every couple of days (sort of a nod to "elves don't need to sleep at all" from D&D, and to explain why NIGHT elves are active at all hours of the day) so that doesn't work.

6. What's Up Danger: This song is Cathala's whole Vibe. Almost zero threat assessment skills in this woman's brain. If it can be punched, she will punch it.

7. Eye for an Eye: Fairly self-explanatory, it's a song about wanting revenge so... yeah. Checked that box. It was this or The Vengeful One by Disturbed but ultimately The Vengeful One's religious symbolism probably makes it fit better as a Tyrande theme lol ("I'm the hand of god, I'm the dark messiah." Did you mean: the Night Warrior)

8. Survivor: Cathala's survived a lot of shit and this could kinda be her making fun of herself for it because "Gods, man! Don't I deserve a break!"

9. Ashes: Really the reason I include this song is the last chunk (2:42 to the end) because holy shit. Listen, if I was gonna include a song with fire motifs, it was gonna be a somber one like this.

10. Into the West: This can kinda represent Cathala just trying to fucking breathe and recover from Teldrassil. Also works because I dunno it has stuff to do with the elves in LotR, I haven't seen those movies in a while. It sounds nice and is melancholy so I included it.

11. Like Real People Do: Cathala loves Tarinne a lot you guys have I ever menti-

12. Into the Wild: Tarinne changed Cathala's world for the better and she's super fucking grateful she has her by her side. Kinda goes without saying but you know.

13. Chasing the Moon: I have a vague music video in my head for this of them falling in love and it's very cute so there's that. Also it's in this specific spot because hey she may be deeply traumatized but she's still got a fair number of things/people in her life that make her happy so :)

14. Follow My Girl: I've got a theme going in my head that while Tarinne is fairly certain of her place in the world, Cathala is still trying to find hers. She outlived all her connections on Pandaria because Elf Lifespans(tm) and the only members of her family still alive are distant relatives she never knew very well.

15. Wish That You Were Here: This works both to represent Cathala on Pandaria feeling super homesick, and for more recently after Teldrassil. Either way, it's a message to her parents and sister.

16. Mr. Fear: She does her damnedest to hide it but she's absolutely terrified something like Teldrassil's gonna happen again! That fear drives her to do everything in her power to protect who and what she can. As long as they're not Forsaken, cause she's still got her biases, that compassion even extends across faction lines. She never really got the whole Alliance/Horde thing anyway. Innocent people shouldn't have to die, regardless of who or what they are.

17. Ordinary Day: Not to get super out there but I think this song works as symbolizing Cathala really trying to hold on to her faith in Elune, but ultimately feeling pretty abandoned. I mean she can clearly see Elune's influence everywhere. But Elune sure ain't doing Cathala any favors as far as she can tell! It also ends the whole playlist on maybe a bit of an uncertain/open-ended note, because this "losing faith" aspect is a new thing with her and will definitely be something she continues to struggle with for a while. On a related note, I should say Tarinne is still very much devout but she gets what Cathala's feeling and doesn't force anything on her, and vice versa. And Cathala wouldn't become atheist, the night elves aren't monotheistic and she still worships all the other deities, it's just specifically Elune she's a little :/ on.

[vaire-gwir]

Some Cat and Wolf fanfic I had in mind pt.6

Or: I lost a Friend on ao3.

I really can’t let this one go, every time I’m ready to resign myself to the fact that I won’t finish it, I have to write another chapter. 

It’s winter again, and for the first time in a while, Lambert dreads the coming of spring. He refuses to go to Kaer Morhen cause he knows he won’t find peace there, so he decides to remain south. Eskel being the good and worried brother he is, finds him eventually. I wanted the reunion to be so much better than this, but I can’t seem to write anything happy lately. 

Be kind, english is not my first language and there’s a reason why this blog is called fillingless pie, keep that in mind. 

****

Lambert was passing through Velen when he decided he was not heading north. 

Something about this place gives him the chills. He's never been here with Aiden, they spent plenty of time in Novigrad and Oxenfurt, but they purposely avoided stopping in Velen, mostly because no one was paying them enough to face ghouls, mercenaries, and religious fanatics all at the same time. 

The stained statues, dripping with fresh blood and caked with the remnants of old sacrifices, creep him out. Their empty eyes seem to follow him around, everywhere he looks there's a shrine or a wooden sculpture of some kind, and he can feel their silent judgment. 

Lambert has never been religious, not before being a Witcher and not after, especially not after. If there were Gods, it's hard to accept they grant powers to certain people only to have them play with formulas and tweak mutagens until they could create a bunch of monsters to hunt other monsters. How did the Gods allow things like Witchers to happen?

A long time ago Aiden told him he didn't believe in the Gods because they're a useless device to instill fear, they demand sacrifices and tributes but do nothing when it comes to helping a miserable bastard out. They turn a blind eye to starving communities while rich Lords thrive and get wealthier by the day. 

<i>So much for justice, right? We're told to not anger them, but no matter how hard folks try, they still never answer people's prayers: I've heard poor farmers begging for their fields to be fruitful, and yet all they got was a scorched square of land and starved, I've listened to innocent mothers pleading for their children's lives and yet they had to bury them, I caught children praying for their father to return from the war and all they got was a bloodied sword in his stead. 

If the Gods were listening, they wouldn't allow that, don't you think? If they allow all this to happen, either they don't care about us or they're not really there. I'd rather believe they're not there. </i>

The icy wind howling between the trees surprises the Witcher and tears him from his dark thoughts as he instinctively pulls his cloak tighter. Lambert hadn't noticed how winter silently crept up to him, soon everything will be blanketed in snow, and he should have made its way up to Kaer Morhen weeks ago to retreat to the old keep and wait for spring. 

For the first time in a long while he dreaded the coming of spring. He had nothing to wait for this year, spring sounded as lonely as summer, as sad as fall, and as bitter as winter.

And now it was too late, he told himself, the passes would already be covered in snow and it was too dangerous to climb up the Killer in this weather, it was a treacherous path even in summer. It was a pointless risk to take considering that he could find half-decent work pretty much everywhere, he told himself it all depended on how picky he was. 

And if he's lying, well, no one is here to call him out. 

Because truth is, Lambert doesn't want to go home this year, home is gone and stone walls are no different than the bricks and rocks of any other village. 

He won't find comfort or safety in Kaer Morhen, there's nothing he can do there besides chasing shadows around every corner. He's not bringing another ghost to the party, the old castle is already too full of them. 

Home was just a word. Somewhere to let his guard down and stop feeling like he was constantly out of place. It was acceptance, understanding, safety. It was the chance to feel something else besides anger and disappointment. 

Home was that room at the inn north of Kaedwen where Aiden waited for him at the beginning of every spring, the first time they met there, as soon as Lambert picked up the trail of Aiden's scent his heart started beating so fast he was worried everyone else could hear it and by the time he got to the front door his hands were shaking like a blushing maid. 

He felt so stupid and happy and relieved to meet his lover again, he almost couldn't believe Aiden came all the way there for him. 

 Home was that clearing in the forest out of Redania where they spent the night huddled on the same bedroll after they were kicked out of a tavern, a petty argument turned into foul words and by the time they were forced to leave Lambert had never seen Aiden so annoyed and upset. 

Anger was his thing, it looked out of place in his green eyes. Lambert wanted so bad to go back and set the whole place on fire on principle, cause they don't deserve it, they didn't do anything wrong, and he would have done so, consequences be damned. 

But Aiden said that people rarely get what they deserve and curled up on his side, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and asking Lambert to stay. Suddenly nothing was more important than holding him close.

Home was the empty house by the river where they fucked until sunrise, the cave where he told Aiden he loved him for the first time, the room at the palace in Beauclair where he was so jealous he almost screwed up but Aiden forgave him anyway. That was home, Aiden was home. 

But Aiden was gone. Spending the winter between forgotten walls and frozen gardens is no different than spending it anywhere else if you don't care for the coming of spring. 

And he has no way to explain to his brothers what has happened. He’s not going to face his makeshift family knowing they’ll smell the stench of despair right off of him miles before he reaches the keep. He'll have to tell them what happened, there will be questions on their lips, and he doesn't have any answers. 

The wasteland surrounding him seems to reflect his mood so well, possibly because he has a different understanding of emptiness now: it's not only in the absence of things that were there, it's also in the impossibility to go back to a previous state, as if the shape of what's missing was still occupying an invisible place, so it's not truly empty, it's full of the shadows of those things that are gone. 

And maybe going back is not the point.

Spring is not as alluring and promising as it was before, the rain is not refreshing, the sun less warm, the shadows are always stretching long in front of him, they don't offer relief but only fear. 

But it was not spring that was alluring and promising, it was the chance to see Aiden again that beckoned him out of the keep, to kiss him, to tell him any stupid thing that crossed his mind, or just to sit in silence. 

The rain is still the same, but it won't cling to Aiden's eyelashes anymore, it won't fall on his face, it won't trace imaginary patterns on his shirt when it drips from his curls. 

The sun is still as warm as before, but its bright rays won't dance on Aiden's skin in the morning mist while they're sleeping, and it all seems a bit pointless now if he can't have it with Aiden. 

Lambert doesn't find it fair that nothing on the outside has changed. His whole world collapsed and he almost expected the real world to start crumbling too. 

Nothing will change in two weeks or in two months, it's not a new season that will make him whole. Days are still slipping from his hands, and nights are filled with the same nightmares he had months ago. He'll still be empty and lonely in spring, just like he was in winter, just like this scorched earth has always been. 

Before meeting Aiden he had always lived life like that, without holding any expectations or hope, accepting things as they were, his only defense against the world was his anger. But he's not the same person he was before, much like a snake that sheds its skin can't wear the old one again no matter how much it misses it. 

No, he won't go to Kaer Morhen this time. Every inn, every tavern, every empty house can be almost like home, cause when it's dark and he's weary and he can't bother to scrape monster's blood off of his skin, he can pretend that Aiden is getting food downstairs and he’ll be back in a few minutes, he's talking with their employer, burning a body, getting supplies, he'll be back, he just has to wait and behave. 

And when the illusion holds, he can breathe easy again for a few minutes, cause he knows he’ll wait until the end of times if it means he gets to see bright green eyes and a cheeky grin emerging from the doorway. 

It's not a permanent solution, but he lives by the rule of whatever helps you sleep at night, one more lie won't make any difference. 

It's exhausting, searching for Aiden's face in every single person he sees, but that doesn't mean he knows how to stop doing it. Just like he doesn't know how to stop seeing the damn cats. 

All of a sudden there's an abundance of felines everywhere he goes, nobody owns them, nobody sees them, but even in the middle of all this ruin, he has seen a gray cat jumping out of the rubbles. Its green eyes seemed almost out of place, too bright, too full of life, too clear. Beautiful things don't belong to ruin, almost in the same way Aiden didn't belong to him. 

The cats will follow him all the way to Kaer Morhen, his madness will chase him wherever he goes. 

He can already imagine the peaceful, repetitive life of the winter days at the old fort disrupted by his silent confrontation with a nonexistent cat, and his brother, his perfectly sane and normal brothers, as normal as they can be, even Geralt's bard, and Vesemir, all watching him while he trails after an invisible animal.

That would be something to explain. 

Lambert is still carrying Aiden's medallion with him, he can't bring himself to leave it behind after all this time. 

  He vowed he was going to burn it, throw it in a river, bury it in the middle of a nameless forest, but it's still in his pocket, the weight of it anchoring him to reality when he's drifting through the nightmares. It doesn't burn as much as before, or maybe he's familiar with that slight physical pain by now. 

Some things are easier than others to get used to. Loss is not one of those things. 

And if the Wolf wasn't so lost in his own thoughts, he'd notice the pack of ghouls moving in circles around the ruins of what once was a village, but his mind is not keeping up with his body, it's still focused on the gray cat amidst the ruins, and the creatures pounce before he can even figure out they're there. 

Rookie mistake. 

***

In the end, it’s Eskel that finds him in spring. 

Lambert is investigating a shipwreck along the Pontar river, near Ban Ard, the fourth in a month. He's sure it's sirens he's dealing with, but he hasn't found a single clue yet. 

The first rays of dawn greet him on his spot at the end of the bay and the first thing he can think of is that Aiden would have liked it here. He clenches his fists so tight that the dark leather creaks audibly, frustration and disappointment settling in his veins like a snake. 

Maybe that's why his mood is darker than usual, a sleepless night out on the shore in the middle of winter will do that to anyone. 

Maybe it's because he's not eager to go back to the inn, the maid swore they never let any animals in, and yet there was a ginger cat on the windowsill of his room when he entered and his stomach flipped every time its green eyes moved in his direction. 

It's the same maid that greets him when he gets back to the inn, she's tending to the animals as she say "there's another one" when she sees him, "I sent him upstairs, he said he knows you? I figured...well, I don't want to get in trouble."

Lambert stares at the entrance puzzled: it's a bit too early for Witchers to be this south. He used to be the first to leave the keep as soon as the snow melted, the others always stayed a bit longer. Unless it's not a Wolf. 

He doesn't know many other Witchers that well though, he has vague memories of his brief encounter with the Caravan, he has seen a Bear in Kaer Morhen a couple of times, and once while they were out on a hunt he saw Eskel talking to a Viper. He wouldn't say he knows any of them.

As he walks through the tavern, a familiar scent finds his way into his senses: beneath the leather and the steel he can smell amber, and sandalwood, with a hint of something raw, welcoming, citrus and apples, it's a warm scent, one he knows very well, he used to wake up to that scent on his pillows. 

Eskel always smells inviting to him, like sitting at the table when you're hungry or waiting for a cake to come out of the oven. 

How weird, the only two people he ever loved in his life were nothing alike: Aiden smelled like the sea, or the crisp clean blankets drying in the first rays of summer, fresh, spicy, promising, tempting. Eskel was comfort and quiet, reassurance and furs that have been left to warm by the fire draped over the bed. 

 He stops in front of the door, unsure, for too long. His mind is having a hard time figuring out why Eskel is here, did he happen to pass by, why is he not in Kaer Morhen, what if something happened...

The door opens not even a minute later, and a blur of red and black armor surrounds him distracting him from the questions crowding in his mind. He finds himself enveloped in a tight hug, strong arms circling his shoulders, pulling him closer, muttering something he can't focus on.

When he was younger he used to think that Eskel was the safest place he could find, it's funny how some things never really change. 

He’s worried, Lambert can tell something is bothering him, but for some reasons he looks almost...relieved? That's a first, he finds it hard to believe anyone can feel that way  when they see him. 

"How did you...What are you doing here?" Lambert's confused expression doesn't hide his reluctance in breaking their embrace. 

"Lambert, we thought...I was worried." Eskel doesn’t ask why he did not come home or what happened to him, he clutches him for a moment longer, silently grateful he finally found his brother. 

Fear is a big part of the winter months. Concern and worry sat in their chest like a stone every time they walked through the frozen courtyard. It's something every Witcher experiences, it comes from not knowing how many of those they left the previous season they'll find the next one.

This year, winter had been an ordeal for Geralt and him, Vesemir kept saying they shouldn't worry too much, but it's impossible to do so when they have no idea of what happened to their brother and the list of things that could have gone wrong is endless. 

It's tough, they already have so little, that the idea of losing it is unbearable. Whoever makes it to the castle first is bound to spend at least two awkward and anxiety-filled weeks waiting not so patiently for the others to finally, finally show up. They all know what it's like to lose a brother.

"It's early. You should be in Kaer Morhen," Lambert says trying to avoid his eyes. He sits on the end of the bed as if putting some distance between them could help him explain his brother's presence. 

"I left as soon as I could. Asked around in Ard Carraigh and a friend told me a Witcher was looking at the shipwrecks along the Pontar, figured it was worth checking out."  Eskel stares at him intently to check that the younger Wolf is not wounded or recovering from some injury. The fact that he doesn't find any doesn't settle his concern. 

"It's sirens," Lambert adds scowling. It didn't make sense for Eskel to be here this early, not for such a shitty contract. First job of the season was usually a big one for them, but he must have had a reason to travel so soon just to take a look into this.  

"I'm not here for the sirens," Eskel interrupts, his voice low as he crosses his arms over his chest. He leans on the small table in front of the bed and Lambert can see the way he's staring at him, he has that focused frown on his face, the one he always gets when he's engrossed in a book or when he's trying to plan the best course of action before a hunt. 

It makes him nervous enough to start ramble: "I can't find anything cause of course those fuckers disappear as soon as they feed and I have no idea where their nest is, but I'm on it, and I know it's sirens, you shouldn't worry about that. No point in coming all the way here at this time of the year, I can handle a couple of bloody fishes, and the sailors..."

"I'm not here for the damn sirens! I'm here for you!" Eskel snaps. Lambert immediately shuts up and lowers his eyes to the floor, the room falling into a tense silence. 

Eskel sighs. He sees Lambert fidgeting on the spot, legs bouncing slightly, fingers torturing a frayed thread on the blanket underneath him, unable to settle. Eskel hates himself a bit for putting him in that position. 

"You didn't come home." Eskel keeps his voice soft, trying to mask his concern. He used to be the one to help him calm down, relax and unwind when he was on edge, he shouldn't be making it worse. 

"I spent winter south before. Things happen." Lambert shrugs as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

He was surprised when he met Eskel outside of Beauclair an early fall afternoon of some years ago. It was always nice to run into your brothers on the Path, that brief moment of respite was worth all the hard days of traveling. 

Lambert felt almost sorry for lying when he said he couldn't stay long because he had a contract. Almost. 

In all truth, he was just eager to go back to Aiden, their little room seemed better than an entire palace. It felt natural, almost too easy, mentioning that he had a good job here and he wanted to spend the winter in town. He couldn't tell the real reason why he was so keen on remaining here, but thankfully Eskel didn't question him. 

The memories of those peaceful and carefree days together still cling to his mind, gnawing at his inside in painful bites. 

He doesn't know that Eskel thought happiness and quiet suited his brother so nicely he secretly hoped to find him in the same frame of mind next time they'd meet. 

"Exactly. Things happen, usually not nice things to us Witchers." Eskel sighs and rubs the lower part of the scar on his face out of old habit. "Do you remember that year I got held up on elf business and I was three weeks late?" 

"Of course I do, some of the worse three weeks of my life," Lambert mumbles. He didn't think it could get any worse than not knowing if one of the most important people in your life was alive or not. Now he knows it can get worse. Knowledge hurts more than doubt.

"You said I should never scare you like that again or you were going to kill me yourself." Eskel grins at the thought, the memories of Lambert clinging to him well into the night and muttering every now and then <i> don't ever do that again</i>. "Can you imagine how I felt when you didn't come at all?"

 Lambert keeps his eyes trained to the floor, unable to look at his brother. He never thought Eskel would miss him like that, he's not someone others usually miss. He's more like the type of person others can't wait to get rid of, the sooner the better. 

Fear of losing someone is etched into their souls from the first trials, when they have to deal with the horrible truth, many won't survive. 

Lambert remembers being in his room with tears still stinging in his eyes, trying to be strong, telling himself he made it through the woods and it would be easier now that the trials were done. And when he thought the worst was over, he quickly discovered it only just begun. 

Every year the apprehension and dread only ease when they're all finally together in the main hall. Lambert has been in the position of waiting for Eskel or Geralt to arrive, every day being a torturous collection of wasted hope. 

That's why Eskel's words hit him differently. He should have known better. 

"I...I had something going on...I'm not...I didn't think it was a big deal." Lambert knows he doesn't deserve his kindness or patience. 

He's always been a selfish bastard, and the fact that they're here in this room, and he's trying to come up with some excuse for his stupid behavior is proof enough.

"Why not? Do you really think you're not important to us? To me?" For a split second, Eskel wonders if maybe his brother didn't want to be found. He wasn't accidentally late, he hasn't been held back like they all thought, he consciously decided to not go home to them. 

For reasons unknown, Lambert didn't think Kaer Morhen was safe for him anymore. And that hurt. 

"Lambert, did something happen?" Eskel silently moves to sit next to him on the bed, his hand laying on his shoulder. His senses scream at him that there's something different in his brother's frown, in the way the lines on his forehead seem more pronounced, in how he seems to be so blank.

Lambert was always the only one of them to express everything in extreme, be it something he was passionate about or the anger that seemed to torment him at times. He was rarely measured or composed, he was everything or nothing, no in-betweens. 

That's what's different in him now. There's no fire in his eyes, no mounting feelings waiting to explode, it's like something was taken from him. 

He doesn't know what's wrong with his brother, but something is off. He's hurt, not in a visible way, but it's there, like a cut you can't see but it keeps bleeding. 

This type of wound, he doesn’t know how to heal. He can’t give Lambert some Swallow and let him sleep it off, there’s no injury to stitch or bone to fix, yet he can see his brother is bleeding and broken. 

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Staying Warm

(Read on Ao3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: (sequel to One Minute) Molly doesn’t think of himself as a very patient person. Less of a thinker and more ‘charge in with prop swords spinning and see what happens’, him. Even so, his current urge to shove Caleb to the floor of their cart and tickle him to pieces seems a little extreme.

It’s a cold night, and Molly’s patience is rewarded.

Word Count: 2375

A/N: I don’t know if anyone actually reads tickle fic for this fandom, but I’m having a great time writing for it so here we go :)

Molly doesn’t think of himself as a very patient person. Less of a thinker and more ‘charge in with prop swords spinning and see what happens’, him. Even so, his current urge to shove Caleb to the floor of their cart and tickle him to pieces seems a little extreme.

Only a little, though - it’s been weeks since that tavern in Zadash, and he would think that he’d misread Caleb entirely but for the way he keeps looking at him and startling a little every time Molly waves back, sometimes forgetting his train of thought entirely. There’s something there that he’s itching to pry into, but his years with the circus have taught him the importance of minding his own business. They’re on the road, and if his interference ends with Caleb going off the rails any more than he already does he’s pretty sure one of his other teammates will smother him in his sleep.

Good luck to them, anyway. He has it on good authority that he’s hard to kill, not to mention that he has a shiny new sword courtesy of Mr. Caleb Widogast himself.

He’s putting the scimitar to good use, spinning it lazily as he paces the outskirts of camp on a night watch. It’s been getting colder, frost lingering in the mornings in a way that he’s never seen before, and the rest of his friends are huddling under every warm thing they own in their tents - everyone except Caleb, his watch partner, who he can barely make out by the dying fire.

The fire flares - they have the silver thread laid around, but Caleb still insists both on sitting his own watches and keeping a light up so he can actually see. More than once, his hypervigilance has ended with the entire group shaken and shouted awake only to find that the impending threat is something harmless and smugly unconcerned at sword-and-spell-point of seven sleepy assholes.

Nott can make all the jokes about midnight snacks that she wants, and Molly honestly doesn’t care as long as their alarm system works when it needs to, but it does lead him to wondering what in the nine hells has their resident wizard so on edge in the first place. Which makes him think about getting Caleb to lose that edge, which makes him think about - nope. No.

Patience is terrible.

He strolls back around to the fire, tail flicking forward to catch the traces of blistering warmth as the fire blows his way; even his tiefling blood demands a bit of thawing eventually. Caleb, he notices disapprovingly, is shivering even with his knees practically brushing the spindly branches they’ve scrounged up as kindling. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” Caleb says quietly. He hasn’t so much as twitched at Molly’s approach, eyes fixed somewhere at the edge of the firelight. Molly squints over, confirms that there’s nothing out there that deserves attention more than him, and snags one of Caleb’s hands to check the temperature.

It’s ice cold. “It’s close enough to the light for me to see colors, dear. You’re practically blue.”

“Jester will be thrilled,” Caleb deadpans. Molly rolls his eyes and sticks his free hand down the back of Caleb’s neck - still cold, which is a little more concerning and continues to prove that his coat is more for storage than any kind of protection. That gets Caleb’s attention, the last syllable of his retort choked out as he briefly relaxes against the warmth of Molly’s hand before jerking away.

“Not if she has to turn you un-blue in the morning, she won’t. I know you’re not so keen on fire, but I imagine cold damage isn’t great either.” Molly straightens up and nudges Caleb’s knee with his boot. “Scoot over, we’ll cuddle until you get warm again.”

“W-was? No!” Caleb barely looks warmer even with a flush high on his cheeks, which only encourages Molly to flop down on crossed legs and reach out an inviting arm.

“Come on. It doesn’t need to be weird, let’s just get your fingers back to a normal color.”

Caleb shuffles his feet and eyes Molly distrustingly, still prominently blushing, but finally he shivers again and sighs and moves a reluctant inch closer. “Fine. But only for a little while - we are supposed to be watching too, ja?”

Molly hooks an arm around his shoulder and tows him in, their crossed legs knocking together. “Mr. Caleb, are you proposing that I might forget my solemn duties to the group? I am hurt, I’m offended - ah, shit, what is it?”

Caleb has gone an entirely new shade of red, dangerously stiff under Molly’s arm. Molly resists the urge to check if his cheeks are actually warming. “Okay, I lied, this is now weird. Care to tell your new heat source what’s going on? Are we too close?” He smirks despite himself. “Not close enough?”

Caleb makes an agonized noise, head bowing. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t know - ah - you are very warm as is, Mr. Mollymauk. Thank you.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a drifting cloud that joins with the smoke of the fire. Molly watches him teeter back towards equilibrium and very deliberately does not think about what he could do to upset the balance.

“Hey, I’m warmer too. People are good insulation.” Caleb interrupts his own brooding to shoot him an incredulous look, and Molly decides to change the subject for both of their sakes. “Hey, tell me what you were reading today.”

“In the cart?” Caleb’s voice is light, distracted. “Ah, I was reading about -” Watching his face in profile, Molly has a perfect view of Caleb’s brow furrowing, his mouth working in incomprehension. “Um. A spell,” he finishes lamely.

Molly gapes. “Caleb,” he says slowly, “I have seen you speak in more detail about magic when you are seconds out of being catatonic. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong with you, I’m going to go get Jester.”

He prods Caleb accusingly with a finger, and Caleb squeaks. The sound tweaks something down in his stomach, an urge and a memory he’s been suppressing, and Molly’s eyes narrow. “Wait.”

Caleb shivers, and Molly is fairly certain it has nothing to do with cold. It might, in fact, have everything to do with the grin that’s currently taking over Molly’s face. “Molly, Entschuldigung, I just forgot-”

“You,” Molly continues, smacking his lips on each word like it’s dessert, “are distracted. You get distracted every time I so much as wave at you. You and your perfect memory are forgetting things. And, as my memory is still working more or less the same, I happen to remember a particular instance where you forgot how to tell time-”

He crooks his fingers just so around Caleb’s shoulder, and the resulting flinch almost sends the other man tumbling out of his grasp. “Stop,” Caleb blurts, the red from before flooding back into his face as he pins Molly with a frantic glare. “Fine, I am distracted, it is awful and it is all your fault because when you wave at me you do this thing with your fingers-” He waggles his fingers in brief demonstration, jerky with misplaced adrenaline, and Molly can’t keep himself from laughing delightedly. “Stop that! I am annoyed, Molly, if I cannot even sit next to you and I am not sure how to make it stop-”

“Oh. Oh, gods, please stop, I can’t.” Molly gets out between cackles, tugging a sputtering Caleb back in until he really is cuddling him, his chin resting on ginger hair. Caleb resists initially, flailing to stay upright, but eventually all five-foot-something of his grumpy self is leaned begrudgingly into Molly’s side. “Do you really forget what you’re saying every time you think about me tickling you?”

Caleb is tellingly silent.

“Mr. Caleb, that is adorable.” He heaves a satisfied sigh with the last of his laughter, can feel his tail flapping contentedly somewhere behind him. “I think I might be doing you a favor, then, to put you out of your misery.”

“And how, Mr. Mollymauk, do you intend to do this?” Caleb snipes, a little petulant. Molly visualizes the pout that might go along with it and almost starts laughing again.

“Tickling you more, of course,” Molly declares, tightening his grip as Caleb makes to struggle again. “Hey, hey, it’ll help! I knew it, I knew you liked it - I was hoping you’d decide to do something nice for yourself for once and come ask, but this is fine. Gives me something to look forward to.”

“To look forward - Molly, I will not ask you to - I can’t -”

Caleb’s voice is strained, as if he’s just now realizing that asking is something he might actually want to do and he’s trying to shove the realization back down his own throat, and Molly is so, so tempted to push him, to let his fingers hover over sensitive skin until Caleb can’t do anything but plead with him to just get it over with, but instead he just hums noncommittally. “Alright, calm down, we’ll save that one for another day.”

He waits, rubbing a thumb in small circles on the harsh jut of Caleb’s shoulder until he feels the other man settle slightly. “This is not ideal,” he mutters, self-loathing laced in every word, and Molly’s heart squeezes uncomfortably. He squeezes Caleb back just as tight.

“Oh, woe to you, you need to laugh once in a while. If you don’t give yourself what you need, your body’s going to come calling for it eventually, Caleb.” Caleb makes an affronted noise at that, but Molly just retaliates with a sloppy kiss to the top of his head. “Right, then - how do I want to do this…”

“Now? Wait, scheiße-” And then Caleb stops talking, because having an enormous raspberry blown into the side of your neck is the sort of thing that is very difficult to talk through.

He shouts, soft but startled, and Molly manages to get a couple more raspberries in under the scruff regrowing on his chin as he pinpoints the moment when the feeling stops being shocking and starts getting ticklish - Caleb almost whines, shoulders ratcheting up around his ears. Molly can feel him practically vibrating, each breath hitching in his chest as he tries to prevent it from becoming a laugh. “W-what is thahat-”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, you’ll recognize this one,” Molly teases, rearranging his hug until his fingers can get under Caleb’s coat. He kneads gently at the softness just below protruding ribs, triumphant as Caleb gasps and dissolves into insistent giggles and twists frantically with absolutely nowhere to go. “I know you’re forgetful, dear, but do try and remember to be quiet? It’s the middle of the night, you know.”

“Molly - bitte, bitte, I cahahan’t!” He feels Caleb working an arm out of his hold, but instead of using it to do anything that would actually stop the tickling it sounds to be stuffed against his face. It fills the purpose for now, but Molly makes a mental note to try and break Caleb of the habit of covering up his smile later.

“You can’t remember? Poor thing.” One hand stays at Caleb’s side, drawing out intoxicating bursts of stifled laughter, and the other strays up to the leather of his book holsters, fingers pushing through to the sensitive area underneath. “Ugh, this is hard. One of these days I’ll get you to take these off first, hm?”

Caleb’s too far gone to protest the potential distance from his beloved books, head jerking back as Molly sees an opening and darts in to blow another raspberry on a defenseless stretch of neck. His hand doesn’t move with it, and for a brief instance his unabashed peal of laughter is exposed to the night air. Molly drinks it in, fingers stilling for an instant, then redoubles his efforts to get up under Caleb’s holsters and tickle the tops of his ribs where he knows from previous experience it’ll send Caleb into absolute fits.

For all his implied forgetfulness, Caleb does seem to realize that they’re out in the open and mere feet from the rest of their sleeping group - Molly has more or less stopped caring about that particular nuance, but Caleb registers the encroaching attack on his sanity as fingers digging into his upper ribs and jerks out of Molly’s grip with unprecedented strength, narrowly avoiding the fire as he crashes onto the dirt. It wouldn’t be too difficult to stop him regardless, or chase him down - Molly’s tail twitches at the thought - but those, too, are perhaps best saved for later.

The cold is almost welcome after minutes of tussling, and Molly takes a deep bracing breath before leaning over to assess the damage.

He gets a good look at Caleb’s face, red and flustered and wreathed in a laughter-bright smile, as he clutches his chest and wheezes for breath. “You,” he gasps, “you are a dangerous one, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly beams down at him. “Am I?” he asks, more pleased than innocent.

Caleb, sprawled on his back, looks wryly over with blue eyes that seem nearly alight. “Would you have stopped before or after I woke up everyone in the camp?”

He shrugs. “Well, you didn’t ask nicely for your favor. Do that, and maybe you’ll earn yourself some consideration.”

Caleb’s head lolls back to the sky, eyes slipping shut, and he does at least seem like he’s considering it. “You call it a favor, but somehow I do not feel very encouraged to thank you.”

“I could make you,” Molly quips, gratified when Caleb’s eyes snap back to him. “But I won’t. Because we’re on watch.”

“... and what happens when we are not on watch?”

“You’d better hope you learn some manners by then, Mister.” Molly fixes him with an indulgent grin, lets Caleb pick himself up off the ground and shake his head ruefully.

Then, surprisingly, he reaches a hand down to Molly. They don’t quite manage eye contact, but the soft “thank you” reaches Molly’s ears and plants itself somewhere deep in his chest that, blazing warm, is entirely untouched by the weather.

[thatonebirbnerd]

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Prompt: Cryptids

Word count: 1343

Trigger warnings: Minor violence, body horror (description and image of aftermath)

Man, does coming back to writing feel good. This story is set around 1329.

AO3 link

---

“Haven’t you heard, Tolaug? There’s a terrible Mordrem in the Grove. I’ve been told stories of how it steals away young saplings, and drains them of life with its shimmering scarlet blade…”

My charr partner and I are sitting in a tavern outside Hoelbrak, enjoying a mug of the local beer as we plan our next adventure.

We call ourselves thrillseekers. The proper words would probably be “bounty hunter,” but that’s passe. We’ll do whatever earns us a living, and that’s easier to do in pairs.

“How have the Wardens not caught it? Surely such a huge, twisted creature would be hard to miss.”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either. But sounds like a cash prize waiting to happen. I like those.”

“Sounds like a plan. One Maguuma-style bonfire, coming right up.”

Hopefully this job doesn’t cause anything spectacular.

---

“Welcome, travelers. Please state your identities and business in the Grove.”

“Yes, Warden. I’m Hanne; the charr is Tolaug. We’re here to make… an arrest. We’ve tracked a Nightmare Court spy into the city.”

So far, so good. She’s always been the better liar.

“With all due respect, Hanne, such a case would be our business. The Wardens can take it from h-”

Not good. I unsheath my dagger, and feel a little fire in my veins. Hanne would tell me I’m getting too ready, too quickly.

“Trust us. It’ll be fine. This help?” My norn partner hands the warden a few gold pieces, and he sighs.

“If you insist. Don’t disappoint us, or we’re sending you home, by force.”

Bummer. Extortion worked. Ah, well; we’ll have plenty more knife time later.

---

Tolaug is disappointed. I can hear it in his breath, for Raven’s sake - he’s just growling to himself. “Cheer up, buddy,” I console him. “Sun’s about to set - we’re just in time. Let’s get hunting.”

“Ale first.”

“Do the sylvari even have that?”

“Time to find out.”

---

We decided to kill some time at one of the taverns. Tried some blackberry mead. Tasted an acidic sort of sugary, almost sickly-sweet, but certainly made us feel like we could stay on the chase for hours. All good things must come to an end, though. Night’s fallen, and the Grove and all its people have begun to glow. Hanne calls it “bioluminescence.” Reminds me of the Foefire, but not just blue - rather, every color imaginable.

“Alright, Hanne,” I remark as I stand up from the bar stool. “Excited for some action?”

“Couldn’t be more ready.”

---

From all the research I’ve done on this Mordrem killer, it doesn’t glow in the dark like other sylvari. I’ve made a sketch of it, compiled from all the accounts. It’s massive and covered in thick corrupted bark, with piercing red eyes - some say it has three of them, in fact - and an organic blade at its hip that’s tainted with dragon magic. Difficult to miss.

Now all that’s left is to find this odd creature out.

---

I think it’s been hours. The booze is making it hard to tell. No luck. Searched every level of the Grove. Got death-glared out of a few neighborhoods.

“You think… by some stroke of luck the Wardens got it recently? Too soon for the news to spread?”

“Can’t hurt to check.”

“To the jail, then.”

---

Hmm. No one looks out of pla- oh, Spirits.

“Tolaug. Ears up.”

“Wha-?”

It’s not quite like in the stories. For starters, “it” would appear to be a “she,” and…

“Wow. Not much of a giant.”

“We’re both bigger than her. Easy.” 

Who was freaking out about this thing, an asura? She’s huge by sylvari standards, but she’s only about the size of a tall human, or a tiny norn. Distinctly un-Mordrem white blossoms adorn the branches on her head. Seems… normal, at this angle, if not for the bark.

“That sword, though. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Tolaug grumbles. “The accounts I heard got that part right.”

“The wardens seem to be on a shift change. Is she talking to that prisoner? Can we try this anyway?”

“I say do it.”

---

“But what about- Geanais! Watch out!”

What the -

I haven’t drawn my sword this quickly since… since the jungle. It catches the edge of a steel knife. I look up, into gray-black fur, feline amber eyes, and a confident sneer. I’ve never seen this charr before… 

---

“Why?”

The Mordrem’s eyes meet mine, and suddenly the stories and Hanne’s drawings make sense; her face is split down the middle, like an actor’s mask, and a third vermilion eye sits between her Pale-Tree-given pair. None of the three has a pupil. The effect is eerie.

I expected a murderer’s face, a twisted grimace, but all I see in her three eyes is fear.

“Why… are you trying to hurt me?”

Her voice still has that draconic rasp to it, a little. I notice that only one side of her mouth moves when she speaks, and only the eye on that side can blink. I wonder… 

---

I can’t stay in control for much longer. I don’t know why they want me dead. Please. Don’t make the dragon come out again… 

---

Tolaug is silent and stony-faced. That’s not the right move. I walk to his side, and give the sylvari - the prisoner called her Geanais - a good look.

“Oh, wow.”

“What?” grunts Tolaug. “Just dragon-spawn trash-”

“Tolaug!”

Geanais lunges at the oblivious charr with a cry of frustration. I take a step back, and he dodges just in time. 

“What are you waiting for? Bring her in!”

“She wasn’t trying to hurt you, but you called her all sorts of things and made her angry, you idiot!”

Geanais twitches and whimpers. Energy crackles at her balled fists and gleams through her eyes.

“Ugh. Alright,” pants Tolaug. He inches away, dagger still at the ready.

---

Everything feels hot. My vision’s gone red. I can’t keep it in…

---

I think I have to de-escalate this situation.

“It’s Geanais, right?” I ask her. “Gen-ash. Lovely name.”

She already looks tense and worn out, as if she’s been forcing herself not to fight us. Upon hearing her name, she seems to let her guard down, just enough to let us approach her.

“I’m Hanne. We heard… some things about you, but I guess it’s better to ask you first. Didn’t think it’d end up quite like this.”

“I - I don’t know what you’re…”

“Something about killing saplings -”

“I swear, it’s not true! I’ve had enemies here since I came home from Maguuma. I’m not what I look like. I’m myself again… mostly, but they don’t believe me. Please believe me…”

“Tolaug over here is clearly awful at reading emotional cues,” I explain. “Sorry for that. Now we just have to get this cleared up with-”

---

“What in the name of the Pale Mother is going on in here?”

Warden Delwyn. Thank goodness.

“I, uh…” The charr - Tolaug - is at a loss for words.

“Geanais? You look like you’ve had your… nonexistent leaves ruffled a bit. Is everything alright?”

“Wait, you know her?” Even the norn, Hanne, is surprised.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I… I’ll be fine… just need to cool off.”

---

“She was one of us, once,” the warden continues. “The jungle changed her so much that she couldn’t rejoin our ranks. Not everyone likes that she’s come home after all the dragon did to her. They see her as a threat. It looks like that’s what’s brought you here.”

“Yup. I admit it, we lied to one of your folks earlier. Thought it’d get us a sure payout. I guess there wasn’t really a trophy hunt to be had after all.”

Goddammit, Tolaug’s yapping. I have to step in. “The charr’s said enough and then some. We’ll head off in the morning. Apologies for causing trouble.”

“For your sake and hers, please, don’t come back.”

---

“Whew! Never had that happen before. Quite the thrill, being banned from an entire city!”

“Serves us right. I suppose we should try not to judge a cryptid by its cover next time. Right, Tolaug?”

“You got it, Hanne.”

[winterysomnium]

just realised i forgot the ship WangXian kiss print #18

slides in five months later hi hello I have answered the prompt even tho it took me like half a year I’m so sorry

it also wasn’t supposed to be this long but it sorta ran away from me and wherever your fic goes you gotta follow tbh lol. thank you so much for prompting! ♥ means so much to me.

AO3 link here 

(tumblr kinda messed up the format so it might be easier to read on AO3 honestly)

—

the borders of you (untouched);WangXian; 5,900+ words;

Wei Ying creates a talisman that’s supposed to keep all the fierce corpses and beasts away. Problem is, it keeps away everyone, living people included. And worst of all? It’s not going away. (prompt 18:kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap)

—

It’s not that Wei Ying has messed up.

The ward works,works well, as it has kept Wen Ning about four feet away from him from everyangle and he hasn’t been able to break through the barrier, not even after theadded strain of several fierce corpses that have been roaming the remote villagefor days on end.

Therefore, his inscription can’t be incorrect in thatsense, no. It’s just … the ward works toowell, is the thing.

When the paper burned up and the hour mark has passed,Wen Ning is still unable to get anywhere nearer, bounced back against the invisiblebarrier like a stone, skipping across the surface of a lake. Not only that: noone else has been able to either. Notany of the villagers, their grateful bows directed towards the Lan juniors andtheir liquor bottles towards Wei Ying, not any of the juniors and not even LanShizui, increasingly worried the more the sun dips, low into the horizon.

At last, knowing that he must have made a mistake ortwo somewhere, Wei Ying watches as a birdcan’t sit on a branch when he stands underneath it, watches on as the curiouscat that has been sniffing at the robes of every unknown person, keeps pawing atthe barrier with a bit of irritation at the tip of her tail.

It isn’t trulyworrying Wei Ying yet. He can touch the liquor bottle and drink from it justfine, and some talismans were known to dissipate after half a night’s time at earliest.Maybe he added a stroke too many to his blueprint, strengthening and prolongingthe effect inadvertently.

He couldn’t have accidentally created a full on permanentbarrier, he knows that, because thereis no visible or spiritual writing anywhere on his clothes or his person andhis paper prototype has been ashes as soon as he surged his powers through itsform.

So he convinces the juniors to stay for dinner andsettle in for the night; it’s past everyone’s bedtime and the comforting scent ofsoup and roasting meat painfully flares the hunger in Wei Ying’s stomach,overriding any lasting thoughts of worry or anxious fears.

His mood doesdip slightly when he realizes he can’t truly share the table with anyone, thesweet taste of the sugar spun fruits souring in his mouth with every lonelybite. He’s gotten too used to this easy kind of company, to Lan Zhan’s quiet,steady presence, his fingers never too far from Wei Ying’s aid, from gettingtangled up with Wei Ying’s own. He’s gotten used to the bundle of juniors followinghim around during the classes he teaches (to Lan Qiren’s unending chagrin) andhe almost misses JingYi’s – a little tooloud – voice right next to his ear.

His exasperated huff must reach all the way across thetavern, because Lan Shizui stands as close as he can to his table now, hiseyebrows etched with something nervous and small. He pauses as he tests the wardonce more, with the tip of his shoe.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t head back right away,Senior Wei?” he asks, ever considerate and Wei Ying sees Lan WangJi’s teachingsfilling out A-Yuan’s shoulders, the chambers of his heart. It makes him missLan Zhan suddenly, with a pang of something sore, like swallowing a painfulgulp of water, feeling it travel all the way down his throat.

He rubs his sternum through his robes, the phantomfeeling making him feel silly (they’ve been gone for barely a day and a half) as he shakes his head.“There’s no point in leaving this late. We’ll arrive too late for breakfast ifwe do, anyway,” he reasons, but A-Yuan’s face stays cautious, eyebrows drawn. (He’stoo good of a child, honestly, Wei Ying thinks.)

“What if theward isn’t gone in the morning?” he asks and Wei Ying drinks another cup ofwine, just to dissipate the distant, cold restlessness stuck at the back of hisskull. There’s no need to be worried, yet.

But it must be a question that’s not just runningthrough Shizui’s mind, because the white robes of the juniors have gotten muchcloser now, JingYi’s questioning look clearly convicting him of eavesdropping,alongside with the others, craning their necks in a – fully inconspicuous –way.

Wei Ying feels a smile graze his face as he watchesthem quietly strain their ears, despite how obvious they are, how much he stillhas to teach them.

(Are they even trying to hide their curiosity at all?)

“Then it won’t matter if I find out here or in theJingshi,” he decides to come back to the question, answering it firmly, decisionmade.

(It’ll just worry Lan Zhan if they arrive and theeffects are not gone, he adds, for only his heart to hear.)

He gets up, brushing out his robes, stepping aroundthe table. Worrying Lan Zhan is one of the last things he ever wants to do.

Copying his movement, the juniors stand up from theirempty bowls and reserve a tired bow to the owner as they head up the stairs totheir bedrooms, quiet enough not to wake anyone else. Shizui and JingYi are thelast in line and they reluctantly look over at Wei Wuxian as he stands at theentrance of his own room, the dissatistified look on JingYi’s face so much morevisible than the slight crook of Shizui’s eyebrows, the corner of his lips.

JingYi opens his mouth, undoubtedly to argue Shizui’spoint again in a more, well, JingYiway, but Wei Ying is faster, interrupting him as soon as he takes in a slightlybigger breath.

“Go to bed. Worry about the report you’ll have towrite, if you want to think about something,” he tells them, with a smile thatis just a little bit too fond and after a moment of decision between arguingfurther and just letting it be for the night, they slowly step over thethreshold of their room, closing the door behind them, softly and slow. WeiYing lets himself collapse onto the single bed of his, a little too stiff underhis weight but clean and with thick covers and a pillow so soft it begs for himto stick his face in.

He really should take his own advice, he thinks as ayawn cracks through the bones of his jaw; his thoughts scattered across theheavy set of his mind. He thinks of Lan Zhan, of a symbol he might have torewrite on the talisman, of Lan Zhan’s chest rising and falling, the lullaby ofbeing there that he plays to Wei Yingevery night.

He doesn’t recall anything after that.

—

Wei Ying knows he’s stalling. He’s decided to stay inCaiyi Town for lunch, sending the juniors ahead and idling about the riverbank, picking all the deserted spots so as not to raise too much attention,twirling Chenqing and wondering just howhe’ll explain this to Lan Zhan so that his mouth and brows don’t curl into thatconcerned shape like they do whenever he does something detrimentally stupid,usually to himself.

He doesn’t get far beyond the edge of the town after hefinally starts up the journey up themountain when he spots him, the afternoon trailing across his robes, awakeningthe woven patterns as Lan WangJi walks towards him, regal and ethereal asalways; even more so with the sun gingerly touching his features between thetrees.

(The same sun feels suddenly way too warm on WeiYing’s own neck.)

“Lan Zhan!” He greets him, happily, despite theprevious moments of avoidance: something about this man just reassures him tothe deepest parts of his soul, calls him to be paid attention by.

Lan WangJi pauses, stands at the exact border of thecharm, tracing the unseen outlines with his eyes before he carefully extendshis fingers, the tips pressing against the ward.  

“Wei Ying,” he answers, in a tone hard to describe:relief, concern, affection, each atthe tip of a different finger, a different note.

(Wei Ying’s heart is an instrument, lovingly played.)

“Don’t look so worried, Lan Zhan! My dearestHanGuangJun,” Wei Ying smiles and it’s never been so difficult to keep still,to keep away from that beautiful face in front of him, kissable and dear. “I’mperfectly fine, see? Aiya, the children must have been telling you all kinds ofgruesome stuff, haven’t they?” he twirls around just to show he can, thatthere’s nothing hurt or aching (besides his poor heart, trying to press itselfout of his ribcage, pulled towards Lan WangJi’s own).

Lan WangJi watches, a stern look slowly seeping intohis features, a sigh buried deep within his lungs. He’s not fooled and Wei Yingknows this, all too well.

“Shizui said no creature living or dead can get closeto you,” Lan WangJi answers and an aborted twitch of his arm belies the intentto hold, to try to defy the limits of whatever Wei Ying has created, despitethe impossibility of it all.

(It’s more painful than Wei Ying imagined it would be,if he’s honest with himself.)

(He’s not.)

He lets out a sigh, tracing the invention he’s stuckin through the air, each stroke a confident memory. “I must have strengthenedthe effect of the charm with a stroke too many somewhere. I already have a fewideas to try out,” he promises and while Lan WangJi still doesn’t look happy, probablythinking: how many have you tried already,unsuccessfully?, he nods anyway, aligns himself at Wei Ying’s side as closeas can be, always beside him, always a guardian of Wei Ying’s own.

“Let’s go back,” he says and the smile Wei Ying feelsblooming on his own face is positively hurting his cheeks. He grins, relieved. “Let’sgo home, Lan Zhan,” he agrees, pleased at the warm hue enveloping Lan WangJi’sears like little buds of flowers.

No touches needed for Lan Zhan’s ears to go warm, henotes, fondly amused.

(Thoroughly in love.)

—

Neither of them can sleep peacefully that night. LanWangJi forfeits his bed to sleep at the other side of the room, even when Wei Yinghimself protests profusely against it (to no avail).

If it’s the unfamiliar scenery of their empty bed orsimply being too far away from Lan WangJi himself he can’t tell, but not evenWei Ying’s usual bedtime can lull him to sleep. He misses the satisfied achesof a night well spent, of loving and being loved in Lan Zhan’s arms and feelingeach of his touches bitten into his skin; the only pain he’s currently feelingis the unpleasant twitch at his back as he slumps over the table, scribblingnonsense into his notes.

So maybe he hasmessed up. He’s studied every stroke’s direction and count on his blueprint,has corrected all the places he felt unsure about and yet, not one modificationhas worked one bit. He’s cast tens of reverse charms, trying to unweave the spellhe’s trapped himself in but nothing has changed: the space he’s isolated inhasn’t shrunk and not even one of the bunnies has been able to hop through tonibble at his robes (he’s been baiting them with carrots all evening so thatthey would actually get near enough to him, too).

Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s an impatient person. He’snot patient per se, either, but he’s able to withstand things. To persevere.He’s lived through enough to know that he’ll thrive in places others go to to becondemned and damned: he’ll root through the soil and he’ll rise like a lotusflower, crawling through to live, to resurface, to be plucked by Lan Zhan’skindness, by his heart.

Perhaps Wei Ying’s been spoiled. Spoiled by Lan Zhan’svery own hands and very own warmth: he simply doesn’t want to struggle anymore.He wants instead, yearns, he wantscomfort and softness and affection and he’s frustrated when it’s this close yetout of his reach altogether. It’s in the very room they share, in the robesthey store in the same place, in the kisses they wear on each other’s lips;they’re two strings bound together.

And now they’re like two parallel rivers, longing toget closer but held apart by earth itself, by soil and trees, the miles inbetween.

Wei Ying must have been worn down by Lan Zhan’s love,a stone sanded down to a grain, because he’s frustrated and unsettled, alonein a choice of his own making. But maybe it’s Lan Zhan’s fault too, just alittle bit, Wei Ying thinks, petulant. Just for all the ways he has indulgedWei Ying, spoiled him to pieces.

It’s completely unfair.

As if responding to his thoughts, Lan WangJi shiftsunder his blanket and his face turns towards Wei Ying’s, laid down on the table,the feeble cushion of own his arms. Lan WangJi’s still asleep and Wei Ying letsout a quiet huff, just to conquer the need to curse at his own stupid luck, thegrind of his frustration.

“Lan Zhan,” he whines, quietly, barely a sound underhis breath. “How unlucky is it of me to have you so near yet unable to touchyou at all? How miserable is this fate of ours, keeping us apart like this?Truly such rotten luck,” he complains, letting the childish words run theircourse, soothe the fear guarding the back of his throat.

He tiredly follows the slope of Lan WangJi’s nose withhis eyes, the bow of his mouth, the press of his chest, the dips and highs ofhis knuckles; falls asleep to the longing of a man dying at an empty well.

He wakes up confused and sleepy, thoughts still sunkenunder the syrupy pull of a dream, a blanket stolen from their bed slipping downhis shoulders as he raises his head and blinks: Lan WangJi is sits across fromhim, a cup of tea in hand.

“Lan Zhan, good morning,” Wei Ying, smiles, softly,but purses his lips upon noticing where he’s slept, confused. “Why am I sleepingon the table? And why are you sitting so far away and not right next to me?” heasks through a stretch and a yawn; what a strange morning it is. Usually Lan WangJinever lets him get away with falling asleep on the table or in the bathtub andalways carries him off, carries him right into their bed –

“Oh,” the memory falls on him like a bucket of water, cuttinghis stretch short. Lan WangJi simply pushes a steaming bowl across the table:the bowl inches closer over to where Wei Ying has pillowed his head on hisarms, but Lan WangJi’s own fingers cannot pass beyond the outer edge of hisnotes.

“Still here, huh,” Wei Ying comments and Lan WangJinods; pushes more insistently. It must be close to lunch time, the air insideof the Jingshi warm and fragrant, the afternoon outside inviting itself inwithin a soft breeze.

“Eat your breakfast,” Lan WangJi says, picking up hisown cup again, carefully adjusting his sleeve. Wei Ying accepts the hot bowl ofcongee, sipping at its contents and contemplates, grazing his lips across therim.

He vaguely feels fifteen again, waiting for Lan WangJito look his way, to pay attention to his whims.

“Lan Zhan. HanGuang-Jun. Did you throw this at me?” Hetouches the blanket after a moment between them stretches and laughs when LanWangJi nods, then looks at the papers strewn all over the table.

“Any progress?”

Wei Ying swallows another gulp of his congee and shakeshis head, supporting his chin with his palm. “There must be something I’m missing.Will you look at it as well for me?” He takes the papers and pushes them allthe way across and leans back, waits for Lan WangJi to accept them, follows hisface as he meticulously reads every line, studies every annotation and scribble.

His forehead ribbon is as immaculate as ever and WeiYing really wants to play with it, tug at the ends and mess up the linecrossing Lan WangJi’s forehead, hold it until all of its length is as warm asthe parts warmed by Lan WangJi’s skin.

It reminds him of the time he had a paper body,blowing Lan WangJi a kiss and crooking his ribbon, annoying Lan WangJi’s patience,when all of this between them was still unsure and hidden away.

“Lan Zhan, remember when I – wait,” Wei Ying stops, straighteningup, and Lan WangJi’s eyes flicker towards him, caught by the movement, sudden,a spring unleashed. “All this time, I’ve been trying to dispel the ward fromthe inside. But maybe it can only be reversed from the outside.” He taps his chin with a finger, already biting into histhumb. “I mean, this kind of thing doesn’t usually happen and therefore doesn’tneed to be specified, but I didspecify the outside protection so maybe I’ve only made it reversible from theoutside, as well.”

Lan WangJi opens his palm and waits for the freshlymade talisman to flutter his way, catching it smoothly between his fingers. “I’llcast it,” he nods.

“Mn, yeah. Thank you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying smiles andthe hope swells in him like a tidal wave, like the breath you take in afterbeing submerged for minutes on end. The sound he lets out when the paper burnsout and Lan WangJi is still unable to touch him is almost pained, like all theweight of the failure dragged his heart down to his feet.

He lets out a frustrated growl instead and his headthuds against the table, nearly knocking his finished bowl of congee over.

Lan WangJi sighs too, quietly, almost like he forgotto breathe for a moment as well and just remembered, willed his lungs to let go.

“Are there more?”

Wei Ying looks up. “More reverse spells?”

“Mn.”

“I’ve written down a few.”

“I will try them as well.” Lan WangJi gathers up WeiYing’s notes again, copies down all of the talismans, no matter how minisculethe correction and uses them one by one, always pausing to test if it worked,relentlessly, without a second of complaint or anger, without losing hope.

How he’s so composed, so seemingly calm ruffles WeiYing’s feathers – he wants to ruffle Lan Zhan’s instead, but not like this, not in ways that hurt underneath: hewants to watch him flick all of them back into its place, not render him unableto fly.

Yet there’s this undeniable, irrational annoyance whenthe last talisman is gone and instead of offering alternatives, Lan WangJi proposesWei Ying should take a bath, Wei Ying’s inner robes the ones that he’s arrivedin yesterday, his hair tangled up around his ribbon in stubborn knots.

“A bath won’t solve anything,” he protests but LanWangJi’s already gotten up, leaving to fetch their bathtub and hot water,silently preparing it like he always does, like nothing’s different, payinglittle attention to Wei Ying’s protests beyond a glance.

Wei Ying keep sitting down at the table, as aprinciple, because there are more pressing matters than a dirty robe, like whyhe’s still not figured this out and why his notes aren’t clear to his own mind, why Lan Zhan’s fine with all of this, why is he notvisibly upset, why isn’t he angry with him for causing this mess.

Why, instead, he stands as close (far, far) as he can, beckoning him into the water.“Wei Ying,” he says and just stands there and watches him like Wei Ying’s the unreasonable one, theneedlessly annoyed child.

“Fine,” WeiYing huffs, giving in after a two minute stare down, jerkily taking off hisclothes right there at the table, notstomping across the room naked, plopping into the water with an unnecessarysplash.

The water presses into all of his tensed up musclesand it does clear his head as hedunks it under, refreshes parts of him he didn’t realize were this tired as hescrubs the remnants of travel and uncomfortable sleep off, decidedly notlooking Lan WangJi’s way.

He’s slowly getting unwound by the soft suds slippingoff his shoulder, the weight of his body that just always lifts when he’s inthe water, when he’s brought back to being small and never cold anymore: he canalmost feel Shijie’s careful fingers combing through his hair.

(He can almost feel Lan Zhan’s, even gentler,somehow.)

Wei Ying sighs.

He’s not sulking and he’s not feeling guilty for being petulant, for making things harder forthe one person who’s chosen every hardship just to be by his side, just toprotect what he’s already lost once before.

When he looks up, embarrassed at his own meltdown, LanWangJi is at his work table, two stacks of papers neatly pressed against eachother, one pile decidedly bigger than the second and Wei Ying’s hit with hownormal, how routine this feels: Lan Zhan grading reports as Wei Ying bathes,Wei Ying reaching over and helping when his cheeks are already pink and hisskin all scrubbed, commenting on the wonky calligraphy of one student, praisingthe neatness and detailed work of another’s next.

It’s still a long way until evening but Wei Yingshifts in the tub until he’s at the other side, wet fingers tapping at the edgeof the desk. “Let me help, Lan Zhan,” he offers, drying his hands and eventhough there’s the everlasting unnatural gap between them, it calms his heart,this quiet time of togetherness, this little piece of normalcy.

His irritation dissipates fully, sinking to the bottomof the bathwater, forsaken and ashamed.

—

Lan WangJi collects Wei Ying’s discarded clothes to bewashed, pausing at the threshold, holding the inner robe close, enclosed withinhis arms, wrinkled and worn. He lifts the cloth to his lips, inhales shakilyagainst the tightness of his pulse, the emotions knotting up his heart.

He stalls, allows himself this minute of longing, thisminute outburst of missing a person who’s standing right in front of you, sofamiliar yet strange, unreachable.

(He makes sure that Wei Ying doesn’t – that no one –sees.)

—

Another two nights pass and Wei Ying decides to stophiding in the Jingshi and doesn’t cancelhis late afternoon class like they’ve planned: he’s bored out of his mind.

(And he’s not getting any new ideas either, anyway.)

Lan WangJiwanted for them to head to the Library Pavilion right after breakfast buttruthfully, Wei Ying is going stir crazy, stuck at the table and riflingthrough notes close to two days in a row now. He needs some movement and aslovely as watching Lan WangJi is, he needs a change of scenery, too – and eventhough it’s not night, he can still teach the juniors a thing or two,especially when the sun beckons so sweetly and the news of a lone ghoul findingits way into a pond halfway to Caiyi Town has reached Gusu just days before.

(It reminds him of Yunmeng summer days, sticky and hot,with a bundle of juniors at his heels and Jiang Cheng scowling right next tohis side.)

It barely stings anymore, memories like this, so helets them pass, focuses on the uniform footsteps that follow in his wake.

“Who can tell me where we’re headed?”he turns aroundas he asks, pausing when the juniors seem to be hesitating on the cuff of the crossroad,not one disciple trying to answer his question or meeting his eyes.

He frowns. “What’s wrong with you all? Did someonespill chili powder into your breakfast?” he asks again, teasing, but his eyesnarrow when even A-Yuan shifts nervously. “Come on, spit it out. What’s thematter?” He tries for a gentler tone and unsurprisingly, it’s JingYi that stepsforward, a stubborn air to his stride.

“Why wasn’t HanGuang-Jun seeing us off today?” heaccuses, quickly, and some of the juniors nod their head along.

Wei Ying gapes.

“Huh?”

“HanGuang-Jun wasn’t –”

“I heard you, I heard you!” he interrupts, indisbelief.

No one makes a single move for what feels like anhour, no one starts laughing telling him he’s fallen for this elaborate prank,this gaggle of teens frowning upon him for not letting his husband see him off.

Okay. What’s trulygoing on?

“HanGuang-Jun hasbetter things to do than standing around watching people leave,” Wei Yingcounters, arms crossed in front of his chest. He’s never been faced with thejuniors’ disapproval like this and he’s as taken aback as he’s slightlyannoyed.

(Isn’t there a rule that says not to question yourelders about their love life or something?)

“But he always sees us off when we leave with SeniorWei,” a disciple interjects, quietly piping up from among the crowd. Thedisciples around him nod, gravely, as if they’re judges of a severe crime,ready to profess him guilty as charged.

(Wei Ying feels like he’s living through a rathersurreal dream.)

“Senior Wei, did you tell HanGuang-Jun we were leavingCloud Recesses?” Shizui asks then, kindly, with the smallest hint of hesitationthat tells Wei Ying he’s worried about something, troubled by the possibleanswer Wei Ying will give.

It softens Wei Ying’s temper, just a little bit.

“Aren’t you guys being a little too much? HanGuang-Junknows perfectly well I am teaching a class.” He doesn’t quite know Wei Ying has left Gusu, per se, true, but they’re goingbarely halfway to Caiyi Town. It doesn’t even count as a field trip.

“HanGuang-Jun always tells Senior Wei goodbye, nomatter how far we go!”

“That’s right!”

“Yeah!”

The disciples chime in and for once, Wei Ying almostregrets how openly him and Lan Zhan operate. Now even the kids think they areprivy to the details of their relationship, is it?

“We believe you didn’t tell him we were leaving CloudRecesses at all! Because the ward is still there and HanGuang-Jun wouldn’t behappy with you leaving in such a condition!” JingYi finishes for everyone andWei Ying has a moment of thorough disbelief at how transparent both his and LanZhan’s motives seem to be.

(And here he used to believe his husband was an enigmato anyone but Zewu-Jun.)

“You kids –”

“HanGuang-Jun has been really worried for Senior Wei!”

“Maybe we should head back?”

“Yeah!”

Wei Ying subtly pinches himself, making sure he trulyis not, in fact, stuck in a fever dream.

“Am I still with the obedient, quiet, good Landisciples? Or have they all been possessed?”He shakes his head, uncrossing hisarms to put them on his hips, authoritatively (he hopes).

“Now, everybody, listen up. Of course I told everyonewho needed to know where we are going. While I am objectively the safest I canbe in this state, it is you juniors we are worried about. So of course there’ssomeone who knows where we are. And I have signal flares with me in case we runinto more trouble than we can handle.” Not that it’s likely, if there truly isonly one or a couple of water ghouls – they should be perfectly capable oftaking care of a situation like that, even withouta supervising elder.

There’s a hum that sweeps through the crowd  at that and with distinct relief upon nofurther protests being received, Wei Ying deems the problem settled, returningto his first, original question, repeating it just a tad louder to overpowerthe remaining echoes of suspicion and his own rattling surprise:

“Now, does really noone know where we’re headed?”

—

Naturally, Wei Ying cannot keep the children’soutburst to himself.

He’s sprawled on the ground with a cup full of wine andwith his stomach all warmed up by dinner, just spicy enough to redden hischeeks a little, just red enough to quicken his pulse (or is that all Lan Zhan,watching him so intently?)

So, naturally,Wei Ying complains, shaking his head after taking a generous, alcoholic sip. “Canyou believe the children accused me of not telling you I was leaving with themtoday? They were saying I didn’t let you tell me goodbye!”

“You didn’t,” Lan WangJi retorts, not disapprovingly,but his lips might be just a littlebit tighter, pursed the tiniest amount.

(Wei Ying wishes he could kiss them, kiss all of itoff.

Alas -)

“I told your Uncle,” he defends himself, belatedly andLan WangJi pauses as he refills his own cup of tea, herbal and scented aftermedicine, the fragrance bittersweet.

Wei Ying quickly raises his own cup, chasing the heavyscent from his throat. “And we didn’t go far! Not even as far as Caiyi Town,”he adds.

Lan WangJi takes his time with his answer, but after amoment he sighs, voice soft. “I still wish to tell you goodbye, no matter whereyou go or how long you will be gone for.” He’s talking carefully, as if he’steaching this, as if he’s intent on not being misunderstood.

It’s endearing as hell.

“That’s what the juniors said too,” Wei Ying responds,grumbling, despite the pounding of his heart.

How can any man resist a confession this sincere?

“And, well – I’m back now. Will you tell me welcomeback?” He grins. He means it as a tease, a way to change the subject of beingguilty of exactly of what he wasaccused of: but Lan Zhan’s just too good of a person, too good of a man to notdo it anyway.

“Mn. Welcome back, Wei Ying.”

God. Wei Ying’s insides hurt with how much he wants to touch him, devour him on the spot.He hurts with how much he just wants and wantsand how every time he’s being kept apart, it’s by his own doing, his ownfaults, his own actions, keeping him stranded in empty fields, in places thateat him alive.

“Lan Zhan! Iwas clearly teasing you!” he yelps and hides his flushed face behind the cup ofwine he’s emptied two times over by now; peeks over the edge.

Lan Zhan’s never letting him go.

“Mn. But greetings are polite. Wei Ying should saygoodbye properly next time, as well,” Lan WangJi says, tucking in what’s trulybothered him in such an efficient way Wei Ying just can’t help but feeladmonished and endeared – again – at the same time.

“Your notes say so, as well,” Lan WangJi adds and it’sa strange enough remark to tilt the world right into its axis again, away fromLan WangJi and words that Wei Ying can’t possibly fit all in, can’t keep all ofthem without an overflow.

(Lan WangJi is always so helpful, he truly is.)

“My notes?” Wei Ying shuffles through the – lessmessy now that Lan WangJi’s organized them – papers on the table, trying tofind what Lan WangJi means. Has he mentioned anything like that on them?

“Mn. Here. ‘Don’t forget to say goodbye.’” Lan WangJi’sfinger points to a corner of Wei Ying’s final page, underneath the finishedlayout of the ward.

Wei Ying’s heart stutters.

“… Lan… Zhan. Lan Zhan! ”He laughs, and stumbles,hastily getting up with a sudden buoyancy of hope, of a memory gasping for air.

“Of course it’s this simple!” He laughs again and his reliefcould span the universe, it’s so vast and deep. He claps and perfectlypronouncing, says: “Goodbye.” and even though he doesn’t feel any difference, inhis gut he knows: it worked. He knows because he’s remembered, he’s finally remembered and he curses his badmemory, curses working late into the night, half delirious and halfway todrunk, because it has finally bit him in the ass.

God, he really should listen to Lan Zhan more.

With a leap that might have sent all his notes flying,Wei Ying jumps into Lan WangJi’s arms, somehow already open and prepared tocatch him as he crashes into Lan WangJi’s lap heavily, kissing every inch ofLan WangJi’s cheeks and nose and temples, pecking his lips and holding onto him,desperately, holding onto the one anchor he has in this world.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he repeats after eachkiss, chanting the words into Lan WangJi’s skin and he knows, he knows there’s no I’m sorry’s and no thank you’s between them but he’s finewith breaking the rules; he’s kissing a thankyou right into Lan Zhan’s mouth.

Lan WangJi’s fingers tremble minutely against hisback, his heart is loud under Wei Ying’s palm and Wei Ying loves him too muchto just not kiss him some more, to press himself into every little space leftbetween them, no matter how small.

Of course he’duse something so simple to break the ward. Something anyone can do. It is a talisman meant for ordinary people in thefirst place, not for cultivators: the person can best decide themself whenthey’re safe. When they do, the talisman vanishes, without any other wards,without any spiritual energy necessary. Ofcourse he’d pick something he has felt so smart about only to forget aboutit right after.

Of course.

Lan WangJi’s palm slips under his outer robe, his lipsmessing all of Wei Ying’s thoughts up – they fall apart when Lan WangJi’sfingers cross his skin and push his hips forward, keeping Wei Ying incredibly –impossibly – close.

There’s a laughhe presses into Lan WangJi’s cheek, right next to his temple, there’s anotherone trapped in the crook of Lan WangJi’s neck, airy and soft.

I have missedyou, Lan WangJi says, in a crushingly gentle hold,bruising but tender; in a kiss tracing Wei Ying’s hair, his neck, the curl ofhis shoulder.

Wei Ying’s eyes sting.

He thinks he might never let Lan Zhan go.

(He thinks Lan Zhan wouldn’t mind it either, at all.)

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”His fingers cup Lan WangJi’s face and he can’t help himself but push againstLan WangJi’s cheeks, pressing his fingers against Lan WangJi’s perfectlyimpeccable features. “Tell me, Lan Zhan: would you have stayed even if I’venever remembered how to get rid of this? Would you have gotten sick of mehaving our bed all to myself? Would you have finally gotten angry at me forruining something good? Would you have told me to leave?Would you have saidgoodbye and found someone else to –”

“Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi interrupts him; face still alittle smushed, held fully between Wei Ying’s palms, a frown hidden deep in hisvoice. “Stop talking nonsense,” he tells him, seriously, sincere.

There are tears falling off the precipice of WeiYing’s jaw, dropping onto his arms like heated wax, a melting sob curling up inhis throat. Lan WangJi stays still under his fingertips but his thumb brushes atear away from Wei Ying’s cheek, rests underneath, waits for more sadness todispel.

“I want you, wherever you are,” he says, simply and WeiYing doesn’t know why he was crying in the first place, why he continues tofeel tears slip past his cheeks but soon after, Lan WangJi’s mouth replaces histhumb, replaces the air on Wei Ying’s own lips and they don’t quite tumble intobed: they don’t really make it that far.

For once, Wei Ying doesn’t complain about it, at all.

[drowningbydegrees]

Once Written in the Stars Pt. 2

Part 1 | On AO3

“The beast is dead?” Geralt knows what’s coming next, before the alderman even opens his mouth. “Have you proof in exchange for payment?”

“There was a mishap, but it is dead.” Geralt chooses his words carefully, his tone even in the practiced way he talks to men like this. It was always going to be a fight to get the rest of what he’s owed, but now the alderman has ammunition.

A rather disparaging smile unfurls across the man’s features at Geralt, the kind of expression that had hurt once upon a time. Now it just exhausts the witcher. “Then you won’t mind coming back with its head.”

It’s not going to happen, of course. Not when said monster’s head is sprawled out with the rest of it on a bed of buttercups in a forest Geralt never plans to go anywhere near again. With a sigh, Geralt prepares to write the contract off as just one more bit of bad luck on what has been an entirely rotten day.

“C’mon,” he mutters, tilting his head for Jaskier to follow. Only Jaskier isn’t looking at Geralt. The fairy’s gaze is fixed on the squat, sneering alderman, who has gone so far as to make a vaguely shooing motion and is clearly waiting for them to leave. Geralt reaches out, meaning to physically steer Jaskier back out the door, but he sees a flash of something wicked and knows.

“I think you will find,” Jaskier says conversationally, drawing the alderman’s attention, and Geralt immediately winces.

“Jaskier…” Geralt tries to interrupt, but the fairy proceeds as if he simply hasn’t heard.

“I think you’ll find,” Jaskier repeats very pointedly now that the alderman’s eyes are locked on his, “that the witcher’s word is more than sufficient. In fact, I imagine you’re quite sorry for being so rude about it. You should probably make it up to him.”

“I’m so sorry.” The alderman immediately stumbles over the words, patting his clothing down frantically for his purse. Instead of counting out the rest of what he owes Geralt, he shoves the whole thing at the witcher. “Please forgive me.”

“‘S fine,” Geralt mutters, leveling a furious glare at Jaskier as he begins to count out only what he’s owed. Just because the alderman had no qualms about taking advantage doesn’t mean Geralt has any intention of returning the favor. Once he’s pocketed the rest of the money from the contract, he hands the purse back to the alderman and says more sharply, “Jaskier.”

Casually as anything, Jaskier grins at the alderman and releases him. There’s none of the gradual release Jaskier had granted him in the woods. There’s just the alderman abruptly wilting where he stands as Jaskier turns to leave. “Pleasure doing business with you!”

He has the audacity to give a little wave as he steps out into the open air again, Geralt stalking out the door behind him. It’s easy to forget in his aggravation what Jaskier really is underneath the brightly colored silks and cheeky smile, enough that Geralt grabs him by the arm and yanks. Jaskier, of course, doesn’t budge. The smile fades, only to be replaced by what appears to be genuine confusion, and he's no believer, but Melitle help him, it’s going to be a long night. “What?”

“You do not do that,” Geralt growls as he lets go. At least the road in front of the alderman’s home is empty.

“He’s not like you. He won’t remember.” Jaskier shrugs, taking Geralt’s lack of hold on him as encouragement to keep walking, apparently. It gives Geralt little choice but to stalk alongside him. There’s a thread of something like delight in the fairy's tone as he explains, “He thinks it was all his idea.”

“That is not the problem.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation for what feels like the hundredth time since he met Jaskier. “You can’t just force people to do things.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Jaskier protests, and though it’s petulant, pushy even, there’s no missing the doubt creeping into his voice.

Not for the first time today, Geralt wonders what he could have possibly done so wrong as to deserve this nonsense. He herds the fairy towards the inn, where light and music still spill out through the open door. "Also not the point.”

“He was rude to you.” Jaskier’s expression screws up in distaste. If it weren’t so infuriating, the realization that the fairy had interfered just to come to his defense would almost be endearing. Almost.

“Humans do that. Witchers aren’t exactly well liked,” Geralt tries to explain, lest Jaskier decide the suspicious looks they’re about to be subjected to need to be dealt with too.

“He was going to renege on the deal he made with you.” Jaskier says far more softly, and while Geralt doesn’t really know what the significance of that is, it’s clear there is one. After that, Jaskier is quiet, head bowed in what Geralt assumes is the fairy’s idea of an apology.

Though he tries very hard to ignore the dejected set of Jaskier’s shoulders, Geralt doesn’t have it in him to be quite so cruel. He grimaces, forcing himself to speak. “It happens. Humans do that too.”

“Fairies don’t.” The problem is brought into sharp relief, but Geralt has no idea how to fix it. It must be like the thank you thing, Geralt guesses, another odd discrepancy between human and fae sensibilities. It’s a chasm he’s not quite sure how to bridge. Jaskier scuffs at loose dirt and pebbles as they walk, but is otherwise uncomfortably silent.

Relief is usually the last word Geralt associates with taverns and the people who come with them, but at least it promises some sort of distraction for Jaskier. There’s enough of a crowd that the wary looks his entry prompts are fewer than they might be.

Fewer is still too much judging by the way Jaskier bristles, and no. No that is not something that’s going to happen again. Not remotely intimidated by the imposing creature that lurks underneath this form Jaskier has made for himself, Geralt herds the fairy straight for the bench at an empty table. “Sit. Leave them alone.”

“But…” Jaskier starts, but something in Geralt’s expression must give him pause. Holding his hands up, Jaskier slides into one of the seats. “Yes, fine, alright. I’m sitting.”

---

Really, he doesn’t know what the big deal was. Jaskier was helping. That man had deserved far worse than what he got, by Jaskier’s measure, and it wasn’t as if he’d been hurt anyway. All considered,iIt’s really rather benevolent on Jaskier’s part to have let him off so easy given the way he’d treated the witcher.

The witcher obviously didn’t agree, so, when Jaskier sees the mistrustful looks the humans direct towards the witcher, the fairy bristles and decides watching them is out of the question. Otherwise he might do something about it, and he’s pretty sure the witcher would appreciate that even less than how he’d solved the problem of the man across the road. Said witcher is at the other side of the room talking to a portly man with hair a far less lovely shade of white than Jaskier’s new friend’s. With the witcher’s back to him, broad shoulders blocking most of the other person, Jaskier can’t make out what’s being said.

It’s a lack of engagement coupled with the telltale opening notes of a song that draw Jaskier’s attention elsewhere. Music is good, or at least familiar. A tall, slender man stands in the corner of the building, dressed head to toe in bright colors that feel like home when Jaskier looks at them. At the very least, it’s better than all the drab colors everyone else is wearing. There’s an instrument in his hands, almond shaped with a long neck at the end, and Jaskier has never seen one, but the plucked out notes from its strings make him smile. He doesn’t understand humans (or witchers) at all, but a melody runs deeper than all that.

The voice that accompanies the instrument, Jaskier appreciates less so. It’s unremarkable, wobbling ever so slightly off key, and nothing at all like Jaskier’s kin. Well, that’s disappointing. Jaskier heaves a sigh, and nearly dismisses the man in the corner, except a funny thing happens. Jaskier begins to turn his attention elsewhere when he realizes that while he is not moved, the humans certainly seem to be.

For a while, Jaskier forgets his irritation with the whole lot of them and watches, fascinated by this every day sort of magic the man in the corner seems to have. A bright, lively melody brings an energy to the surface among the patrons that Jaskier can feel from here. They sing along until it’s echoing around Jaskier from all directions, and he thinks the sound of it should be grating, but there’s too much joy in it for him to mind. Briefly, Jaskier’s eyes flick over to the witcher, the only one not singing along. Maybe this doesn’t work on witchers, then.

Whatever power this is bends in the other direction too. A slowing tempo brings the crowd down with it, until they’re calm and quiet in their seats. Once more, the witcher barely seems to notice. There’s nothing that softens about him as he makes his way back to Jaskier, nothing remotely like the way he’d been tugged along by the music in the woods. So, whatever this human is doing, it can’t be that magical.

Jaskier doesn’t have much of a choice about making a life out here, but the idea of doing it alone is unexpectedly overwhelming, like peering over the edge of a cliff into an empty abyss. The witcher doesn’t seem too keen on company, but he’s the only person Jaskier knows now, so desperate times and all that. Perhaps if Jaskier could make himself useful in ways that didn’t include magicking humans into paying their debts, he’d be allowed to stay. Holding this kind of sway over a crowd seems useful and not entirely unfamiliar. As Jaskier watches the man’s fingers fly over the strings of his instrument the beginnings of a plan take form.

A heavy thunk pulls Jaskier’s attention to what turns out to be a bowl of sitting in front of him. It’s full of chunks of what look to be vegetables of some sort, maybe meat. It’s all smothered in something dense and maybe liquid. Liquid adjacent? None of it is familiar, so it seems perfectly reasonable to Jaskier that he cocks his head to the side a little as the witcher slides into the bench on the other side of the table. “What is this?”

The witcher doesn’t answer beyond a bemused wrinkle between his brows that’s there and gone so quickly Jaskier almost thinks it’s imagined.

“You know, I’m never going to know any of this stuff if you don’t tell me,” Jaskier prods. He picks up his spoon and pushes the contents of his bowl around. “Besides, how do you know you haven’t brought me something that’s going to kill me?”

That drags the witcher’s gaze back to Jaskier, though there’s nothing like concern in his expression. There’s only a soft huff of a breath and the witcher arching an eyebrow at Jaskier. “Is it going to kill you?”

“Well, no, but-” Jaskier gets as far as admitting before the witcher very pointedly turns his attention back to whatever they’re eating.

It’s not bad, actually. Good enough, at least, to keep Jaskier’s focus until his bowl is half empty. He might have finished, except the man he’d been watching has moved closer, and his music is harder to ignore. The fairy grimaces when he aims for a particularly high note and doesn’t quite make it. “Does he have to do that?”

“He’s a bard. That’s what they do,” the witcher mutters between bites.

“Oh, now you’re answering questions?” The fact that the witcher, who clearly isn’t a fan of conversation, spoke to him at all curls warmly in Jaskier’s chest. “Be that as it may, does he have to be so bad at it?”

There it is, a tiny quirk of the witcher’s mouth. It barely qualifies as a smile, but Jaskier celebrates anyway. It’s much nicer than the grumpy looks he’s been on the receiving end of mostly today. The almost smile fades though, and the witcher’s eyes narrow suspiciously instead.

“What?” Jaskier asks, but the witcher is watching the bard (there’s a name for people like this, much to the fairy’s delight). Maybe because of the man from before. “I’m not going to make him stop. I’m just going to be very… eh, judgy and judge him from here.”

“None of the stories I’ve heard about fairies make them out to be particularly honest,” the witcher points out, and it’s lucky Jaskier is, well, himself, because that’s just downright offensive and most of his kin are a whole lot bigger on retribution than he is.

“Well, who is telling the stories?” Jaskier huffs. He doesn’t know people very well, but the little he’s seen so far has given him nothing much to admire about them. “We tell the truth and we keep our word. Both of those things just happen to be, well, a bit up for interpretation sometimes.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier suspects that means something, but he hasn’t figured out how to translate… yet. “You’re going to have to try again. I speak a lot of languages, but ‘hmm’ isn’t one of them.”

“I thought you never left the forest…” Jaskier is much too pleased that the witcher is speaking at all to be irritated by the insinuation.

“So what? Just because it left me ignorant of humans’ … social mores doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.” Jaskier gives the witcher a shrewd look across the table. “Besides, people aren’t the only creatures that communicate if you know how to listen.”

Whatever possessed the witcher to engage in conversation seems to have passed. The next time the witcher speaks to him, their bowls are empty and he’s pushing himself to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Jaskier asks, but the witcher doesn’t answer. He’s already walking away, so Jaskier slides out of his seat to follow towards the other end of the room and up a staircase.

Like everything else about human dwellings, the stairwell is horribly confining. Maybe the space it lets out into isn’t cramped by human standards, but for someone who has spent lifetimes surrounded by open air, the windowless hallway feels like a prison. That it’s so warm and stuffy makes the whole thing monumentally worse as far as Jaskier is concerned.

The witcher lets Jaskier through one of the doors, into a space that is better, marginally. The furniture is largely foreign to him in design, but their purpose is self-explanatory enough. A seat. A bed of wood and straw and fabric. A window on the far wall, much to Jaskier’s relief.

“Is this yours?” Jaskier finds himself asking, only realizing now that they’re here that he doesn’t actually know where witchers live. There’s a pack in the corner though, so it seems a reasonable assumption.

“It is tonight,” the witcher replies. He doesn’t look up from his current task of freeing himself from his armor.

For a little while, that’s all there is, Jaskier hovering near the closed door and the witcher stripping away parts of his attire. With nothing else to pay much mind to, Jaskier’s attention on the witcher is rapt, enough to spot the miniscule shift in his posture, as if he’s just caught onto something.

“You can stay tonight if-,” the witcher says. The approach is a new and interesting one coming from the witcher, so Jaskier drifts a little closer and listens to what the “if” is. “-you stop coercing people into doing things.”

Oh that’s clever, Jaskier thinks, the witcher using what little he has learned about fairies and leveraging it to get what he wants. Granted, it entirely hinges on an assumption that Jaskier wants to stay, which… alright, maybe he does, but it’s still a presumptuous sort of leap.

But then there’s the matter of the deal itself, proof that this isn’t exactly the witcher’s wheelhouse, which is… unexpectedly charming despite all the man’s glowering. It’s rudimentary and easily maneuvered around, so Jaskier offers up a toothy smile as he follows the witcher’s lead and reaches down to take off his boots. “Okay. I promise not to make anyone else here do anything.”

The witcher’s eyes narrow, clearly having caught onto Jaskier’s side step. The corners of his mouth pull down a little, and the silence stretches out long enough that Jaskier starts to think he’s miscalculated, but eventually the witcher just shakes his head in the end. “Fine.”

It’s a roof over his head that Jaskier really doesn’t need, but it’s also company in the shape of the witcher laying out a bedroll with a terse invitation to ‘just lay down and stop hovering already’. That’s all the conversation the witcher bothers before getting in bed and disappearing from view and snuffing out the candle lighting the room.

Above him, Jaskier can hear the bed creak under some sort of movement. It’s a welcome reminder that he’s not entirely on his own. This isn’t the most comfortable place he’s ever slept, but it’s not so bad. Sure, the wood that makes up the floor under him and the walls all around probably hasn’t smelled like the forest in ages, but at least it’s not entirely unfamiliar either. There are really no surroundings that could make the stifling summer air as pleasant as what he’s used to, but Jaskier tries very hard to snuff out the comparison because it’s rather a moot point now, isn’t it?

Jaskier knows better than to dwell on something his magic cannot repair. Only now the thought is there, a homesick tremble behind his ribcage, and if the witcher isn’t sleeping, he’s trying to, leaving no distraction to speak of. He’d done well shoving the thought away all evening, and he’s trying, he is, but now even the music downstairs is too far and too muted to be more than a backdrop, only just loud enough to remind Jaskier that it isn’t home.

There’s no sense giving what’s already been done any space in his mind. He knows that, but Jaskier can’t really help himself. At the time, the choice had been so straightforward. The witcher had been trapped, so Jaskier freed him, simple as that. It’s not that it’s a more complicated line of reasoning in the aftermath, but in the silence it’s harder for Jaskier to ignore the price he’s paying. He’s lost his home, his friends (what precious few there were). Even his name is no longer his own.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. Over and over, Jaskier repeats the mantra, even though it slips away from him like the words are slick with oil. He breathes out a quiet shudder, and glances furtively up at the edge of the bed, but there’s no sign of the witcher. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut against the sharp swell of grief, and wonders if this is regret.

Except he knows better. It pains him, sure, but Jaskier cannot be sorry for the choice he made. The witcher is no foolhardy human who came traipsing into the woods out of some wretched sense of entitlement. This is someone who, even confronted by human cruelty, let go of an opportunity for reparation that Jaskier had practically pushed into his hands, and took only what he was owed. For all his blustering at Jaskier afterwards, that act tells the fairy everything he needs to know about the witcher.

He’s terribly lost. He has no place in the world and there’s no telling how tomorrow might go. But Jaskier listens to the steady in and out of the witcher’s breathing and knows he cannot be sorry. He curls into himself on the bedroll, fighting the stubborn way his breath hitches so as not to disturb his sleeping companion. With all the time in the world to reconsider the price, Jaskier knows he would still have paid it.

---

Geralt is still groggy when he cracks an eye open to look out at the empty room, and at first he thinks nothing of it. A room to himself isn’t a problem until it occurs to him exactly why it was worth noting in the first place. Suddenly very awake, Geralt sits up, speaking out just to be certain. “Jaskier?”

The empty room does not deign to respond. Not some weird invisible fairy thing, then. Cursing under his breath, Geralt drags himself out of bed, resigned to rushing through pulling himself together. He may as well be on his way anyway now that the contract is done. Humans don’t tend to willingly suffer the unnecessary presence of a witcher for long.

It occurs to Geralt as he pulls on his boots that logically, this is the best possible scenario. Jaskier left without any coaxing from Geralt. The fairy is far too powerful to actually need protecting, so it’s not as if Geralt is abandoning Jaskier to starve or be cut down by bandits or something. And if Jaskier’s odd behavior reflects on anyone, it won’t be Geralt, who humans already dislike plenty, thank you very much. The best thing, for both of them really, is to go their separate ways.

The thing is, he already knows that’s not how this is going to go.

Before he can cobble any real plan together, there’s a knock at the door, which Geralt assumes is probably the innkeeper there to kick him out. Well, no matter. It’s not as if he’d really unpacked before chasing down the contract anyway. Scooping up his things, he strides to the door and pulls it open. “I’m just on my-”

It’s not the innkeeper, but rather his wife, a weary looking woman who hadn’t given him the time of day yesterday. She smiles at him this morning, holding out a plate and a mug. “Thought you might want breakfast.”

“What?” He’s been doing this a while now, and never once has anyone brought him food without motive or expectation of payment. The woman seems not to have either.

“Breakfast,” the woman repeats as if it’s the word that’s mystifying him and not that she’s doing this in the first place. Her eyes go wide when he doesn’t immediately respond. “Do witchers not eat breakfast? I can pack you something for the road instead if you like.”

“No, this is...,” he hears himself say, because he has no idea what else he's meant to do about it. Reluctantly, he reaches for the dishes. “Thanks.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” The gesture seems genuine enough, so he takes what she gives him and pushes the door closed with his foot. As far as he can tell, it’s not been tampered with, but still, this never happens. Never once… until now.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls at the empty room. Whatever is done is done though, so Geralt sits back down to eat and hopes the day doesn’t get any weirder than room service.

---

The day gets weirder than room service.

He’s left undisturbed, even when the sun climbs high enough that it must be late morning. That’s odd enough all by itself, but then he packs up and heads downstairs. There are a handful of people in the tavern, and that’s where it all goes awry, leaving Geralt wondering if he’s woken in the middle of some fever dream.

The villagers are kind, unnecessarily so. On the surface that seems like it should be a good thing, but it’s really not. At least when people don’t suddenly decide they like him, they mostly tend to ignore Geralt aside from a suspicious glance here and there. Whatever has possessed them to be so friendly is full of eye contact and small talk and Geralt wants nothing to do with any of it. He tells himself that the brisk pace with which he leaves the tavern isn’t fleeing. He just has a purpose (that purpose is possibly getting away).

It’s only once he’s outside that Geralt realizes he’s not even sure if Jaskier stuck around. For all he knows, this could be a well intentioned farewell gift gone terribly awry. He scents the air, but everything just smells like people and farm animals. Maybe it’s the universe encouraging him to take the out that’s been offered. The reasonable thing would be to saddle up roach and be on his way, leaving the whole last day or so behind him.

Only, Geralt is too observant for his own good, and just as he’s about to concede to reason, his eyes settle on the long, overgrown grass along the side of the tavern. It’s long since tried out, brown with too much heat and too little rain, except for a vibrant green tuft couched in the middle of it all. A little ways off, there is another and another, leading back the way they’d come the night before.

Honestly, Geralt isn’t sure if he’s more annoyed by the fact that Jaskier thought to lure him out like this or that he’s following the path the fairy set out, neither of which stops him from putting one foot in front of the other. It’s not that he cares. Of course it’s not that. It’s just that it would be irresponsible to leave without warning the fairy off whatever nonsense he’s gotten up to this time.

Geralt follows the path out into a meadow that’s just as leeched of color as everything else, caught in limbo between death and decay. Among it all, there’s a path leading to an ancient looking tree, the leaves of its sprawling branches still defiantly bright.

Jaskier leans against the trunk of it, plucking at the strings of a lute Geralt is very certain he doesn’t want to know the origin of. They’re really going to have to talk about being a little bit less obvious, because spread out around him, nestled in the muted sandy color the rest of the meadow has taken on, the ground is full of life. Among the blades of bright green grass, flowers poke out in search of the sunlight.

There’s no telling if Jaskier doesn’t know or just doesn’t care that that is not an ordinary thing for a human to do. Come to think of it, Geralt doesn’t even know if it’s something Jaskier can help. If the fairy even notices what he’s done, he ignores it in favor of flashing the witcher a pleasant smile.

“I thought fairies don’t renege on deals,” Geralt says, when he’s close enough to speak. He has a reason for being here. Obviously.

Whatever Geralt expected, it’s not the genuinely confused scrunch of Jaskier’s brows. “I promise you I didn’t.”

“The innkeeper’s wife brought me breakfast,” Geralt points out, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oddly, that doesn’t seem to have cleared anything up. Jaskier squints up at Geralt. “Did she? That’s nice of her… I think. Is that supposed to happen?”

“Jaskier.” The name comes out on a low growl, and Jaskier’s fingers still on his lute strings.

“Wait. You thought I-” Jaskier’s face abruptly screws up like he’s wounded, and Geralt’s stomach twists uncomfortably. He’s not going to feel guilty about holding the fairy accountable. He’s not.

“I didn’t make her do that. I didn’t even ask her to.” It comes out like a plea, though Geralt isn’t sure what Jaskier wants from him. “We had a deal.”

The worst of it is, regardless of what it looks like, Geralt already knows he believes Jaskier. The fairy might be coy about his behavior, but he hasn’t lied, and the witcher can’t think of any reason it would start here. Geralt uncrosses his arms in favor of scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. Well, whatever it was you did. Don’t.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific…” At first, Geralt thinks Jaskier is toying with him, but there’s that confused expression again. This would be so much simpler if Geralt could just be irritated without feeling kind of guilty over it.

“Whatever is making people… like that.” It’s only as he’s trying to explain that Geralt realizes there’s no way to tell Jaskier to stop convincing people to be nice to him without sounding daft. “It’s better that we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”

“We?” Leave it to Jaskier to glomp on to that of everything, derailing the conversation entirely.

“No.” Geralt answers the question Jaskier doesn’t ask with anything more than a hopeful expression that falls the moment the witcher opens his mouth. He is absolutely not getting caught up in this. He’s not. Even if someone figured Jaskier out, what could they possibly do to him?

“Right, yeah, okay.” Jaskier’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip, but he doesn’t argue. He only gestures a hand vaguely at the village. “Thanks.”

“I travel alone,” Geralt offers up an explanation he doesn’t owe, and Jaskier nods like he already knows.

“Sure. I know. See you around, witcher.” Jaskier waves him off with a smile that’s too bright and too brittle, and looks away quickly enough that Geralt can pretend not to have seen, even though the regret is already beginning to prod at him. He hasn’t ever had a travel companion on the Path before, and he’s not about to start now.

Geralt makes it as far as the stable, still trying to convince himself he’s done the right thing. Jaskier doesn’t seem to know much of the continent, but he’s hardly helpless. There are things he is made for. Helping a lost fairy put down roots somewhere is not one of them.

It’s not his problem. Geralt reminds himself as he saddles Roach. It’s not his problem. He tells himself again as he packs away his belongings. It’s not his problem, he insists, as he swings himself into the saddle and heads right back to where Jaskier was sitting.

Just until Jaskier knows his way around a little better. Geralt braces himself for the nonstop chatter he knows he’s about to commit to. No matter how grating it is, it still sits better with him than abandoning someone who is only in this mess because they helped him.

Whatever Geralt’s intent, it turns out it really isn’t his problem, because the meadow is empty. There’s no sign of him down the road as far as Geralt can see, even though there aren’t many places to go. Any hope of tracking him is lost in the smothering heat, Geralt is eventually forced to concede.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters to no one in particular, for all the good it does. Jaskier looks to be well and truly gone, leaving behind only a swathe of green grass and buttercups.

[suitcasetales]

Hallo! Hilsen fra Norge!

(Hello! Greetings from Norway!)

According to our 2021 calendar, we flew to Norway Wednesday night. Yesterday’s itinerary included a mini-cruise, a tour of a stave church and a visit to a waterfall. Today, more fjords, quaint villages and a visit to a Viking museum. How I wish I could tell you all about it. How I wish I had beautiful photos to share with you. How I wish I had interesting factoids to pass along to you. But alas, this is 2021....or is it the 16th month of 2020?

What really happened? We went took a trip 65 miles away — versus 3,872 miles — and for all of 27-hours! And believe it or not, we did things we have never done before and I am so desperate to get back to writing, I thought I would tell you about it.

Ironically, it was a pandemic driven trip. Janet is a member of a gym here in Richmond, technically Midlothian, called ACAC (Atlantic Coast Athletic Club). It began in Charlottesville during the fitness craze in the 70’s and has a few locations now in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. Founder Phil Wendel “set out to operate a health club where everyone would feel comfortable coming to exercise.” Janet first started going via a 60-days- for-$60 P.R.E.P. (physician referred exercise program) incentive and has been there ever since. She has trained with personal trainers and taken various styles of water exercise classes but her favorite is Zumba where she can dance and shake her booty.

ACAC-Charlottesville was holding a fundraiser for an affordable housing charity in C’ville whose services and assistance, as you would be well aware of in this long pandemic, continue to be in high demand. The Sprint Pavilion, normally an outdoor, covered pavilion popular for concerts, was the venue for a morning of exercise classes, Zumba, Yoga and Afterburn. Participants paid money for each class. One of ACAC-Midlothian’s instructors, Marcela was invited to lead the 8:30 Zumba class. Janet thought it sounded fun so we decided to go up Friday night and do something wild and crazy and actually stay in a hotel.

Janet found us a suite hotel above the Barracks Road shopping center which accepted dogs (for only an additional $25) and did not have a two-night weekend requirement. With Cokie being the nervous dog that she is, we knew a take-out dinner would be our best option for Friday night, too. Again, Janet did the research and suggested C’ville’s number one rated restaurant, The Ivy Inn Restaurant. We have always known of it but had never eaten there and frankly, didn’t even know where it was located. Their website encouraged us to pre-order, even for take-out, as they often sell out. Thursday night, we ordered up a feast.

I left the hospital early Friday and we drove to Charlottesville and on to the hotel. Our suite was perfect and once settled in, I went and picked up our dinner, a six minute drive away. Our dinner was delicious. We treated ourselves to three courses. Janet had a nice salad with goat cheese and dates, pork chop with sweet potato mash and collards and strawberry rhubarb crisp with ice-cream. I had sweet potato empanadas , local mountain trout with rice and green beans and sticky toffee pudding with ice-cream. And although that sounds like a lot of food, the portions were actually reasonable and we were not miserably stuffed.

Nevertheless, I had not had my exercise for the day. The clouds had cleared, the sun was out, the sky was blue and so we went for a walk. Just behind the hotel, there was a short path that led to “The Park,” on the University of Virginia campus. We circumvented the several intramural athletic fields and a softball stadium (that looked more like a former softball stadium), found a wooded area with some trails where Cokie was more at home and then walked around some of the law school buildings. It was the perfect evening walk and we managed almost two miles.

At check-in, we were given this magnet to place on our room door. The magnet must remain on the door the entire stay. (And FYI if you travel with a dog, they can be left in your suite if in a crate.)

Saturday morning, we took advantage of the hotel’s grab-n-go breakfast, grabbing it and bringing it back to our room. Cokie and I delivered Janet to the amphitheater and went off to find a place to hike while she danced. We shortly found an entrance to the 20-mile Rivanna Trail which is a “rustic urban wilderness trail” and did a quiet and protected hike alongside a creek for about 20 minutes before returning to the truck and then back downtown to say high to Marcela and to pick up Janet.

Photos from my hike short hike with Cokie. The May Apples were in full bloom!

Marcela introduced Janet to the ACAC founder and was able to thank him and tell him she would not be the person she is today without ACAC.

We returned to our hotel (where we had a very generous noon checkout), showered, did some research for the rest of the day, and checked out around 11:15. It was so worth having stayed overnight!

Like Richmond, and perhaps even more so with the Blue Ridge mountains all around, Charlottesville has many opportunities for hiking. We didn’t want to drive further west in to Shenandoah or go along the Parkway as the forecast was not good. Instead, we went to the Ivy Creek Natural Area which offered about 7 miles of hiking trails. Unfortunately, as soon as we turned in to the parking areas, everywhere, there were “no dogs” signs. What?! No dogs? Well, darn.

But, knowing Cokie as we do, we hiked anyway and left Cokie snoozing in the truck. We knew she wouldn’t care — we always have to really coax her out of the truck anyway and convince her she will like what we are doing. It was cloudy and cool and we knew she would be alright. We ended up hiking less than 3 miles. We enjoyed the hike and it was a good workout, up and down a lot with beautiful wildflowers and some nice water views of a creek. Returning to the vehicle, Cokie could have cared less that we had been gone.....or even that we were back!

We debated for a bit, trying to decide if we wanted to go to one of the many breweries, cideries or wineries in the area, but again, it just was not going to be a pretty afternoon. For those of you who live in central Virginia, you will probably be shocked to read that we have never been to Carter Mountain Orchard so off we went! Or, if you have been there, up we went! Up the mountain road arriving to the huge parking lot and beautiful views from the summit. Bold Rock Cider has a satellite location there but again, no dogs were allowed.

So again, Cokie was left in the truck while we went on a short visit. We can’t imagine how crazy it is to visit in the Fall — we know many of you do it; we have seen your photos on Facebook. But having no children and not being huge fans of apples, we have now checked it off our list, and feeling fortunate to have visited it in on dull Spring day. On the other hand, Janet did enjoy a cider and as there were no savory food choices available (and outside food was not allowed, another pet peeve of ours), we had to have apple spice doughnuts for lunch. Yes, we HAD to have them.

Along the Carter Mountain road, a hiking trail had crossed over near the beginning so next we went in pursuit of its trailhead and parking area. We drove just around the corner to the Michie Tavern complex on the Thomas Jefferson Parkway (that leads to Monticello) and parked. We managed to get Cokie out of the truck and headed in the direction we thought the trail could be accessed, only it wasn’t. We turned back and walked along the Michie Tavern historic buildings to the other end of the parking lot, which was a dead end.

Janet sought the advice of the restaurant hostess and back down the highway we went, turning in to a small parking lot at Kemper Park and nabbing one of the last two parking spots. We packed our raincoats and hats and convinced Cokie that she would be okay — Come on, Cokie, you will like it — and finally managed to get going along the Saunders-Monticello Trail.

This “trail” is really a cinder road, so wide and very easy to walk, slightly but steadily climbing. Eventually, we took a side trail to an overlook and then saw a trail jutting off from it and decided to diverge. A great decision, too, as it was a very vigorous ascent, followed by a hike along the contours before descending to a nice footbridge that returned to us to the main hiking road. And, we had that trail it all to ourselves. At the end, we read a sign where it had built in memoriam of a Monticello trail manager. It was the perfect workout after a doughnut lunch. Hike number four, in the books. And just as we made it back to the parking lot, it started raining.

We drove home in steady rain and ended our mini-vacation (and I do mean mini!) with a dine-in dinner at Lola’s Farmhouse Bistro in Manakin-Sabot. We thought we might have to just do take-out but called enroute to see if we could make a reservation. As expected, they were fully booked but ended up accommodating us when we said it was just the two of us and we could be there by 5:00. The hostess said it wouldn’t hurt if we could get there even earlier, and we did....and had the restaurant to ourselves. We both had large, tasty salads and even scored a free takeaway dessert as an apology when, due to the kitchen not being busy yet, our entrees of lobster ravioli and chicken Marsala arrived before we had even put a dent in our salads!

No, it wasn’t Norway. And it wasn’t even a multi-night getaway but a getaway, no matter where, is better than nothing these days. But finally doing some writing feels good!! And if we ever make it to Norway, we will eat hjortebakkels (Norwegian cake donuts) for lunch and I will tell you all about it.

[homogrimoire-archive]

The Remnant Branches

CH. 5 - Ash Qrow

Qrow ventures into the world where day and night are at a standstill. There, he gets stuck with a bunch of kids, and a book or two.

AO3 Link

You can kill two birds with one stone. But if those two birds are the same bird, are you really killing two birds?

-

Qrow flew right into a large rock that was hurled from below. With a caw, he flew away with it. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster.

As Qrow recovered, he looked down below. There were four people: two young adults, and two children. There were also two floating books, one white, and the other red. The two children fought together, while the male teen and the white book fought together. The woman, whose clothing could hardly count as clothing, fought with the red book. He thought of joining in the fight to help them out, but they were taking care of the monsters, shades, he remembered, as if it were having a picnic. Not only that, they all used magic. He was happy to have found what he was looking for on his first day.

Qrow spent the rest of that first day scouting the surrounding area. Nearby, was a small village, a seaside town, a small desert civilization, a run down factory, a forest, and a village built into a cliff side. In the distance, he could see dilapidated buildings, an abandoned city in ruins. He knew that whatever happened to this world was unimaginable. He knew that if Salem won, Remnant could very well end up like that part of the world.

The first place he visited was the tavern of the village the four stayed in. His first order of business was to find out preliminary information on them. Bars were one of the best places to get info. Alcohol flowed, and information flowed with it. However, bars in small places could be either hit or miss with information. The people in such bars would either be too tight-lipped, wanting to keep their community’s secrets, or all too eager to share the latest gossip. He was all too happy to find this bar a hit. Great information, with even greater alcohol. He decided then that post-apocalyptic alcohol was the best.

“You mean you haven’t heard of them!? They’re like, only the strongest people in the world!”

“I’ve seen Grimoire Weiss and Nier take on an army of shades all alone! I wish I was as awesome as they were.”

“Kainé is soooo cool. She and Rubrum took down a shade the size of three building in five minutes flat. She even saved me from this giant shade and helped me up. I haven't washed my hand since she touched it.”

“Emil and Halua are soo adorable! And so strong too! Don’t let their looks fool you though. I heard that they took on Weiss, Nier, Kainé, and Rubrum on in a spar, and won.”

“They’re gonna save the world! Once they find The Shadowlord, we’ll be free of the shades at last!”

Qrow was having a great time. Apparently, he had showed up after a rare performance from the village’s leaders. The bar was filled with laughter and chatter. While he was chatting away with some man, he heard a roar rise from the crowd.

“Oh man! Here comes the main event!” said the man.

Qrow saw that an arm wrestling contest was going on, and the champion was one of the village leaders, the one with the straight hair. She seemed more drunk than anyone else, and did not appear particularly strong. The first opponent was a woman, a dainty thing that went down easy. Next was a beefy man. He went down with only a smudge of struggle on the champion’s part. After him was an even beefier woman. She was defeated just as easily.

“Come on! One more opponent! Who else wants to face me? You!” She pointed right at Qrow. “You’re a new face! Get over here! Let’s see how you hold up against me!”

Qrow shrunk and tried to get out of the challenge, but, the crowd pushed him forward. He may have been drunk, but still knew that it was almost never a good idea to attract attention on a mission. However, there was no good way of getting out of it, so he went to his slaughter. She sized him up and smirked. Their hands interlocked, and the match began. Qrow put up a better fight than the others. He assumes it is because of his aura helping out. But, she unleashes a burst of strength that not only seals her victory, but breaks the table they were playing on. While Qrow picks himself up, the champion raises a leg onto her chair and relishes her victory.

“Popola! Popola!” the crowd chanted. Qrow knew that there was more to this woman than meets the eye. But, pursuing her would have been illogical. He had his lead on magic, and would focus on that.

It wasn’t his first loss at arm wrestling. That was with Tai. Summer ended up winning Team STRQ’s little tournament. It was a nice memory. But, a memory is all it ultimately all was. He spent the rest of that day gathering bits and pieces of information on the group, nursing the great beer out of his canteen.

The Shadowlord and the black book, Noir, had taken the Nier’s kid sister. The two children were siblings and had lived at the mansion. Kainé had lived at the Aerie, the place built into the cliffside. Grimoire Weiss, who insisted on being referred to by his full name, and Kainé did not get along. Rubrum and Nier don’t get along. Rumor has it that Nier and Kainé are dating. Nier’s weapon is named Beastcurse. None of the info he gathers pertains to the specifics of the magic they wield.

Qrow always found sleep difficult, and the eternal sun only made it harder. He wondered why Popola was so strong. Ozpin didn’t mention anything about the people having such strength. He rested alone in a tree at the top of a hill in the village, and was grateful that it at least wasn’t cold. However, he was filled with apprehension. The previous two days had gone well. Too well for someone like him. All he could do was wait for things to inevitably go south.

-

Qrow was awoken by the sound of a scream. He quickly jumped out of the tree, but landed on his foot wrong and fell on his face. He quickly gets up and scans the area with his sword in hand. He notices that a kid is in front of him, protecting a shade.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s a good shade!” the kid pleas. Behind the child, the shade is cowering. Qrow then realizes that the two were probably just playing, and he heard laughter, not screaming.

“Don’t worry kid. If he’s a good shade, then I won’t hurt him.” He reassures as he sheaths Harbinger.

“Alright...” the kid says warily as she lowers her arms. From behind, the small shade seems to relax as well. “What were you doing sleeping in a tree anyways? Birds sleep in trees. Are you part bird or something?” the kids says, suspicious of Qrow.

“Nope, not part bird or anything.” he quickly clarifies. He’s technically not lying.

“What’s your name then, mister?” the child asks.

“Qrow.” he answers nervously. The child looks at the shade, and the shade looks back at her. Qrow knows that they know something is up.

“Ok then, Mister ‘not a bird’ Qrow. Wanna play with us?” she innocently asks, as if she weren’t just suspicious of him.

“No. No thanks, I’m good.” He says as he begins to back away.

“Sure?” she says. The shade comes forth, saying something in its odd voice as it holds out a palm full of worms. “We were just digging for worms. Don't you think that’s fun?”

“That’s, that’s good for you. I’m not interested though. I really should get going.” he lightly laughs to counteract the heaviness around him. The worms do seem enticing. The shade mumbles something again, and holds out some shiny objects. Qrow begins to sweat.

“Or maybe we could play with these shiny toys? They’re sooo shiny.” she smiles as she tempts him as she holds one up to the sun, making it sparkle brilliantly. He almost can’t handle it. He can’t handle it. With a loud caw, he transforms in an instant, and flies away.

“HA! YOU WERE RIGHT!” he hears her shout as he makes his escape. “You were right! He was magic! That’s how he lasted that long against Popola! I knew you were right!” Turning his head to look back, he sees the two dancing with each other, sharing their small victory. It was heartwarming, even if it felt like he was just being interrogated by them. However, he wonders why his avian urges were so strong. He chalks it up to his bad luck.

Since he was already flying, he decides to see if he can find that group of kids. He sees them in the plains below. And they’re riding huge, wild boars. They’re all laughing and screaming in wild joy as they head towards the town in the cliff face. However, he notices that the demeanor in the woman seems tense. He remembers that she lived there, and might have some bad memories of the place. He’s glad she had her friends with her though.

As they entered the cavern, he flew overhead and took the time to scan the town. It seemed no different than when he first saw it, save for a small gathering of people on one of the large platforms. He imagines that’s where they’re heading, but he knows he could be wrong. He perched on a wire above the group of merchants and customers.

“There they are.” One person says.

“Ok, get ready. Act like we planned.” whispers another.

“Did you say something?” asks one of the merchants.

“Huh, oh, no. I just remembered something.”

“Ah, ok.”

That’s not suspicious at all. Qrow thought to himself. He kept himself alert. The guy with the white book finally entered the little market. He hopped up the wire to see if he could find where the others were, and found them waiting at the entrance. They appeared to be chatting with each other.

Down below, he heard the book and the guy making small talk with the people there, and buying a few things.

“Everyone? Every one? Every one? Everyoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryone…” said a guard as his voice morphed into the sound of a shade. And in a puff of smoke, he and a few others transformed into shades.

“Crap, an ambush.” Nier said.

“So it seems.” Weiss commented.

From his vantage point, Qrow could see more shades gathering around the other parts of the village. He decided then that now was the time to help.

He flies to a bridge where more shades have gathered, and with the slash of his sword, he sends them flying back. A few fall off the bridge to whatever lies below, but more shades manifest to take their place.

“Forget how to actually kill a shade, old man?” berates the female teen as she slashes through slade after shade on the other side of the bridge.

“Hey! I’m not old!” Qrow answers back.

“Then start killing them properly, or leave, dumbass. Rubrum, play Cold Steel Coffin.”

“Ooh, nice choice.” The red book compliments as she opens up and flies through her pages. “Tear those blood bags to shreds!” From her pages flows a song in an unknown tongue.

Vlee sieh tah, Vlee sieh reeh, Vlee raun stee yah, Vlee yon ston reeh. Begins the powerful, almost terrifying song. Kainé tears through the shades with even greater ferocity than before, their blood devoured by the red book as the volume intensifies.

“Kickass!” she shouts as a shade is torn to shreds, as promised. Her movements become quicker and quicker, stronger and stronger, and before Qrow can take care of even five, she’s already taken care of the rest of the shades on that bridge. “Out of my way old timer!” she says as she rushes past him.

“Kainé! Hold on!” Qrow hears a boy shout.

“Yeah, hold up!” A girl also shouts.

“We’re sorry about her.” The girl says.

“She just really gets into it when Rubrum plays a cool song.” The boy says.

“So, what’s your name? I’m Halua, and this is my twin brother.” she introduces.

“Hello, I’m Emil. It’s nice to meet you.” he says with a slight bow.

“Qrow. Nice to meet you two. We should chat later though, huh?”

“Oh, you’re right. We really should. Hm, follow me Emil.” she says.

“Okay!” he replies as he takes her hand. They proceed to walk off the bridge, and onto the empty air as if it were solid ground.

Nobody bats an eye at the two, but Qrow. The sound of a shade screaming right in front of his face scares him, and he jumps off the bridge. He turns into a bird to fly back up, but rather than his wings, he is instead brought back up by some unknown force.

“Huh? A bird?” Halua questions.

“You can turn people into birds? That’s new. Do you think you can turn me into a parrot later? I always wanted to be a colorful parrot!” Emil exclaims happily.

“Nooo. Waaaait… Qrowwww… Crowwwww… Sorry mister, I’ll let you go now!” she shouts from the center of the canyon as she releases her magical grip on him. “Let’s get back to this. Tell me when it sounds right.” she tells Emil as they toy with a glyph.

“What the hell???” he wonders. It’s the second time that day a kid guessed his magical secret. What that said about the adults in Remnant wasn’t good. Then again, it wasn’t like magic was common in Remnant.

He shifts back into a human and gets back to taking care of shades. By now, the song echoed through The Aerie for all to hear and empower. Qrow had to admit that it did help with the fighting, as it paired well with his fighting style. Despite the toughness of their armor and tendency to block, he soon finds himself flying through shade after shade at a good pace.

Everynow and then, he takes a look at one of the kids to see how they’re holding up. The villagers at the tavern had evidently placed their praise well. Nier and Weiss work as an experienced duo, efficient, clean, and powerful. Kainé and Rubrum, all Kainé really, were a shade killing machine. They are brutal, swift, and deadly. While Kainé hacks, Rubrum dances to the beat of the song as best a book can. Then it seems as if the young twins then appear to have finished their task.

“There! That’s it” Emil says excitedly.

“Alright. Applying the buff!” she announces. With an otherworldly, fear-inducing glow surrounding her, she absorbs the glyph, and Qrow finds that Harbinger is glowing as well. Looking around, he sees that Nier and Kainé’s weapons are glowing as well. A quick slash of the scythe shows what the buff was: armor nullification. Harbinger went through the armor harming the shade underneath.

“Fuck yeah!” Kainé yells with joy.

“Will she ever learn to hold her tongue around them?” Weiss wondered.

“Fuck yeah!” Emil and Halua echo as they jump with joy.

“I think it might be a little late for that, boo─ Grimoire Weiss.” Qrow corrected before he could finish.

“Well, at least someone has the decency to respectfully use my full name. Who might you be anyways?” Weiss asks

“Qrow. It looked like you guys could use some help, so here I am.” He responds.

“That’s nice of you, but─” Nier begins before being cut off by Weiss.

“Shush! No buts! We’re taking all the help we can get. Bah! Teenagers!” Weiss says as he shakes his head, or that’s what it looks like he’s doing.

“Don’t worry Weissy, we’ll be good teenagers when we grow up!” Halua says earnestly as she and Emil join them.

“But I wanna be like Kainé! She’s awesome!” Emil argues.

“Sorry Weissy, nevermind.”

“Apologize not. This old book has given up hope long ago.” he says tiredly.

“Done!” They hear Kainé probably declare as she joins them.

“Another day of honest work is complete!” Rubrum chimes as the song fades out. Slowly, they all begin to notice the ominous, dark mist that vibrates all around The Aerie.

“Rubrum! This is why you have to be more careful with the songs!” Nier reprimands.

“Oh calm down you big baby.” she tells him without a care in the world. “Like I said last time, it’s nothing we won’t be able to handle.”

“Last time?” Qrow asks.

“We were relaxing on the beach, and she was playing Repose. We even didn’t notice the giant shade in the ship.”

“Hey, things ended up alright, didn’t they?” she defended herself.

“I broke an arm! The mailman almost died! Halua was tired out for a week!”

“Well your arm’s okay now, the mailman is still alive, and Halua recovered. What’s your point?” she told him. Nier growled in frustration as he covered his face.

“Lose later Nier, we have a new friend to make.” Kainé smiled cruelly.

Before them, in the center of The Aerie, a giant shade formed. It was unlike previous shades. Its size made it in a part of a very small class of shades. It was a perfect, dark sphere. Tendrils, or perhaps tails, slithered to and fro to reveal what seemed to be an eye in the center. Its roar could be felt as it traveled through the air, rattling their bones through their flesh.

“Emil! Halua!” Weiss shouted.

“On it!” they answered, and began to manipulate a new glyph.

“Until they’re done, we’ll practice the tried and true method of concussive maintenance.” Weiss continues.

“If it worked on a grimoire, what wouldn't it work on?” Rubrum added.

“Emil and Halua.” Kainé answered.

“Dare I ask again?” Qrow dared to ask.

“Does it look like we have the time?” Weiss responded. As the monster appeared to wind up for an attack.

“Nope.”

With such a monstrosity, Qrow expected it to whip its many tentacles at them, or attack with some kind of magical energy. He expected wrong. It unleashed some kind of gas, a sickly pale green color. They all had no chance to try to avoid it.

What are you even doing here? You’re just endangering those kids. Don’t you know that, idiot? Or maybe you want bad things to happen to them? Why stop there? Make everyone as miserable as you! Oh wait, you already do that, you pathetic excuse for a human.

“I do, don’t I? That’s all I ever do, bring everyone bad luck and make them miserable. Why am I still here? I─”

“I am just a freak. I shouldn’t be here, near anyone. A monster with a cursed body like mine shouldn’t even exist…”

“Why is a broken guy like me even here? I don’t want to be here in this terrible world. It would be easier if I were gone.”

“I need to be alone. I need to be alone. They can’t turn to stone that way. If I never look at them, if I’m never close to them, my cursed eyes can't petrify them.”

“I’m just a weapon. That’s all I was ever good for. I couldn’t even protect Emil. A weapon like me shouldn’t exist. I never wanted this. I never wanted to be this...”

“I─ I─ I─ Snap out of it! Quit saying those things! Snap out of it!” Qrow yelled to the children.

“Use a song!” Weiss shouted as he fended off the shades as best he could.

“I have to find a proper one, or be given one! You know how this works!” Rubrum frustratedly replied. “God shit fuck!” she cursed as more and more shades inched closer, and closer.

“Hey, Rubrum, find one for me!” Qrow requested. All he knew he could do was protect the kids. “Weiss, try to wake them!”

“Scanning…” Rubrum said as Qrow began to attack the shades. “Searching… Found one. Ooh! She’s a beauty!” The song starts calmly enough. It gets a simple rhythm going in him, then…

Pain! Is your reward for being near me. Fate! Won't be your friend when I’m around. Blame! Me for the tragedy that follow. Grave! The situation that surround. …

Unfortunately for the armored shades, Halua’s buff was still active. They were felled easily, feeding more and more blood to the red book. More and more blood, more and more song and power, it was intoxicating.

“Blood!” she giggles. “Blood blood blood blood, blood!” She spins and twirls in ecstacy. “Make this song the end of the shades!” Qrow was happy to oblige. A tendril accidentally pierces an ally, a shade trips and runs its sword through another.

“Misfortune wins again!” Qrow laughs as he ends another shade. “I’ll bring you down! I’ll bring you all down!” he announces to his enemies.

His misfortune finally targets him when he gets unlucky and the last shade pins his cape down, causing him to fall onto Halua, waking her in the process.

“Huh?! What!?” she says, confused, having been broken out of the trance..

“I need to be alone… So my eyes won’t hurt anyone… Alone…”

“What? Emil, no, don’t say that!” she tells her brother. She then turns to the giant shade with fury in her eyes. The air becomes heavy, and the last shade runs away in fear..

“Weiss, Rubrum, get them out of here.” she orders. An image of a skeletal beast flickers around her. “Mister, get Emil for me.” He obeys, and picks up the child.

“What about you?” he asks her.

“Just get Emil to safety.” she solemnly tells him as she summons a glyph in front of her. The shade strikes it, but screeches in pain as dangerous power cackled from it in defense.

“You better come back safe too, kid.” he tells her.

“I will. Rubrum? Can you play the song? I need to be able to hear it too.”

“Sure can do. I have more than enough blood for that. And remember Halua, we’ll be with you no matter what.”

“We are a family, after all” Weiss says. Halua smiles, and the beast appears for a split second once more.

“I know.” The song begins, calm and soft with its ethereal vocalization.

Kaun mon-no ruutra, Kaun oulvadei-gyaiya, Droh fee lai-narszes, Whoul sheeg-ma rae, Restivaun, Whoul vajei hli mehg jzu, Sii-kyathrae, Whestel-ou har thehgehy, Quin-deskuel, Shoul-yaneiyan …

Soon, the song becomes not just calm and soft, but powerful and imposing as well. From the safety at the top of the canyon, the song echoes below. Qrow can see the beast flickering in and out of reality more and more.

“Earthly Zenith of Modernity, The uncontrollable might of solitons, The spiritus that threatens to devour all, Avenge and atone in the name of all that is accursed! Number Six!” Halua yelled as she activated the glyph. “Deconstruct!” The beast appears from behind her, and consumes her with a bone-chilling cry.

“What is that?” Qrow asks in terror with his mouth agape. Emil awoke and jumped out of his arms.

“It’s my sister, Number Six, The Ultimate Weapon. We were made to be weapons long ago.” Emil explains as he faces his sister, sensing the intense and unparalleled magic.

“What you are witnessing is perhaps the most powerful magic in all the world, much more powerful than even a grimoire.” Weiss reveals as The Ultimate Weapon latches onto the large shade and tries to tear through its protective tendrils.

“Mmnnn,” Kainé groans, “What the hell happened?” Number Six lets out a piercing screech as she jumps to cling to a cliff, and fires a beam of energy that the giant shade just barely avoids. The spot where the beam hit is pulverized into nothingness for who knows how deep. Quickly, Kainé jumps up to see her. “Halua! Halua! Goddammit!”

“Is she gonna be alright?” Qrow hopes she will be.

“She will recover, just like last time.” Weiss answers confidently. “But...”

Finally, she had the shade cornered. She howls as the song begins its closing. Cowering in horror, the shade makes a last ditch attempt to win, firing a volley of magic at Number Six. She is unphased as The Ultimate Weapon activates its true might. A bright light begins to grow from where they are. At a steady pace, it swells and devours the shade and everything else in the vicinity, turning it all into nothing. When The Ultimate Weapon deactivates, an unflinching Halua, eyes glowing a dull red, stands where Number Six once was.

-

“Are you sure you guys are alright with me being around?”

“Yeah old timer, we’re sure.” Kainé assures him.

“It’ll be only for a few days anyways, like you said.” Nier adds.

“Besides, fuckers like us have to stick together.” she reasons.

“And if the world can’t handle us, we’ve gotta find other fuckers who can!” Rubrum exclaims joyously.

“In a sense, we create a world of our own.” Weiss states.

“That’s… a nice way to think of it. A world of our own, one that’ll accept a bad luck charm like me. I like the sound of that.”

-

Qrow had arrived right in the path of a large rock that was hurled from below. He let out a pained caw as it struck him as he fell. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster and looked up. “Wait, that’s not a bird. It’s a guy?”

“It is!” Emil gasped as he saw that Kainé was indeed right. “Don’t worry mister, I’ll save you!” With a wave of his staff, he slowed Qrow’s descent and uprighted him. Lightly, he landed on the ground. “Hmm?” Emil said as he cocked his uncanny head in confusion.

Qrow, meanwhile, realized that this was where the voice of the child was coming from. But he had little time to ponder the realization, as he sensed an enemy nearby, a skill honed from all his years as a huntsman. Swiftly, he unsheathes his sword and slashes at the shade to send it backwards. The lady in lingerie, Kainé, followed up and stabbed the shade in the chest, pinning it to the ground.

“Gawk later Emil.” she tells him as she extracts her sword and moves onto the next enemy.

“R─Right!” he says in an embarrassed tone. “Sorry mister!” he apologizes as he returns to fighting.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” Qrow replies as he joins the fray to help finish off the last of the little shadowy demons.

“So, who the hell are you?” Kainé asks him.

“Qrow.” he answers.

“A better question is, how does a man end up so high in the sky?” the book inquired.

“Ooh, I know that! It was magic!” Emil excitedly answered. “You were the bird Kainé hit huh?”

“Yeah, and it hurt.” an irritated Qrow said as he took a quick drink from his flask. Normally, it would be good to hide his little talent, but there was no reason to try to hide it now that the kid could sense the magic.

“Well damn. That sucks.” she replies nonchalantly.

“Weren’t you ever taught some manners?” he jabs.

“You’re wasting your time with this hussy. Manners are as foreign to her as proper attire.”

“Why don’t you two go and do whatever the fuck it is old timers like you do and shut up?” she jabs back.

“Hey Emil, how were you able to tell it was magic anyways?” Nier asks as they continue arguing. He is mostly unphased by their conversation, and the fact that the man is walking with them to the boat, even though he could just leave. A man falling out of the sky and joining them hardly compared to a kid getting consumed by his weaponized sister, and then joining him.

“Hey! I’m not even that old!”

“And my age is a symbol of my infinite wisdom and arcane power!”

“I just sensed it. It’s different from Weiss’ magic though, and Kainé’s and mine too.”

“Weird.” Nier commented. “Hey, uh, Qrow?”

“What now?”

“What kind of magic do you have?”

“Hell if I know. It was a gift from a friend of mine.” he answers. “What about the rest of you?”

“Mine is from my sister. We were experimental weapons.” he answers solemnly.

“Wha─??”

“It is a sad, and long story.” Weiss says.

“Still, it’s pretty cool that you’re an ultra powerful weapon though.” Nier says.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking kickass.” Kainé adds on. “Way cooler than some boring old book.”

“Aww, you guys...” he says shyly.

“I’ll have you know that my magic is far older than you can even fathom, hussy. But I unfortunately cannot answer your question because someone,” he paused as he looked specifically at Nier, “found it acceptable to perform concussive maintenance on The Grimoire Weiss.”

“I said I was sorry like a million times already.” Nier exaggerated.

“You are fortunate you have my mercies.”

“As always Wiess, as always. But, we’re here.” Nier says as they arrive at the boat.

“I’ll go ahead and scout the area. That tower place, I’m guessing? I’ll let you know if I see anything unusual.” Qrow tells them as he shifts to his avian form.

“Hey, wait, don’t you want to─ Aww, he’s gone.” Emil lamented as Qrow flew away.

-

Qrow scans the backside of the structure. It’s a bunch of shoddy workmanship. Loose planks of wood, metal poles, and cheap ladders are what make up this sorry excuse. But oddly, it does not appear to be old. In fact, it seemed like a recent addition to the place. Nothing is rusted, and none of the wood is rotten either. A few shades even jumped about, and nothing creaks or breaks. It is suspicious, and screams that this is a set up.

Regardless, he defeats about half the shades that lingered on the platforms built into the stone by the time the boat arrives. They’re tougher than the ones on the plain, but they fall just the same, into a dark smoke, and then into nothing. Despite how uncanny it was that slicing into them felt somewhat akin to slicing aura, they were otherwise oddly reminiscent of grimm. What wasn’t reminiscent of a grimm was their ability to bleed.

“Damn, save some for the rest of us!” Kainé yells. “Some of us have a bone to pick with the fuckers!”

“Quit crying and hurry up then!” he shouts to her down below. “Damn kid…” he complains as he takes a small drink from his flask. For all he knows, he won’t be able to refill it anytime soon.

Kainé swiftly jumps up a few platforms above him and starts her slaughter. While Nier and Weiss slowly make their way up, taking care of the few shades that happen to appear, Emil floats up to Qrow.

“So mister, where are you from?” he asks curiously as he floats a few feet away from the platform.

“A place called Remnant.”

“Well that’s an odd name. What’s it a remnant of?”

“It’s just what we’ve called it. Don’t know why either.” Qrow answered as he climbed up a ladder.

“Oh… Well how about your name? Did you get it after the magic, or was it a cool coincidence?”

“It was the name I was born with. Can’t say if I know it’s a coincidence though.” Qrow quickly replied.

“Emil,” interjected Weiss, “leave the poor man alone. He appears to be tired of your barrage of questioning.”

“It’s fine.” he responded. “I’m used to this kinda thing.”

“If you insist.” the book replied in his snotty tone. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put it on his finger yet.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“If I can handle my two little girls, I can handle a single kid. Don’t worry about it. But─” He was cut off by a loud and excited gasp from Emil.

“Oh my god! You have two daughters? I bet they’re adorable!”

“What? No. I mean, they are adorable, but they’re not my daughters. They’re my nieces.”

“You just said they were your kids, dumbass.”

“How about you mind your own business?”

“How about I─” she began before her heel got caught in a gap in the planks of wood, causing her to fall backwards. “Ack! Fucking bitch! Stupidass wood!” she cursed as she got up and angrily punted the guilty board.

“Kainé! Look out!” Emil warns her.

“What?” she turns to see a shade about to strike her, and that it is too late to react. Ooh it’s gonna be my turn soon, Sunshine! Bwahahaha!

To her surprise, and Tyrann’s, they don’t feel the slash of the shade’s sword. Qrow is in front of her, blocking the attack. He knocks away the weapon, and brings the shade to its demise.

“I’ll be up top.” is all he tells her before he flies away.

“Hey, wait up! I’ll join you!” Emil says as he follows the black bird.

“Did you scare him off already?” Kainé hears the book assume.

“What happened?” Nier asks as he and the grimoire neared her.

“Shut up. He just went off on his own for no damn reason.”

“Hmm. Odd guy huh?” Nier asked no one, as Kainé and Weiss were already beginning the hour’s bickering.

Meanwhile, Emil chased after the man, wondering why he seemed so insistent on being alone. He didn’t seem like a bad guy who had anything bad to hide. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Emil knew that very well. Emil concluded that it was perhaps something about himself the man was hiding, maybe something he was ashamed of. Kainé was like that at first, and he probably would have really been like that without her.

“I’m here!” Emil announced once he caught up with Qrow. “Man, you fly fast.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends, kid?” he questioned the kid.

“Ohh, I don’t mind. I just wouldn’t want you to be alone. Being alone sucks most of the time, huh?”

“Meh. I’m used to it.” he waved dismissively, taking a small drink from his flask.

“Still, it’s better to be friends than alone.”

“Not always, kid.”

“Not always?! It’s always better to be with friends!” Emil shouted, to which Qrow winced at the young boy’s volume. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But I just prefer to be alone.” Qrow said as he took a seat.

“Why?” Emil asked. He could see that Qrow was thinking.

“Back in my world,” he began, “everyone has a sort of ‘magic’ more or less unique to them. We call it a semblance, and mine is Misfortune. It brings bad luck to anyone nearby. I’m sure you can see why now.”

“Hmm, I do see. … Well, that’s alright. I’d still rather be here with you than let you be alone.” He could see that Qrow froze for a moment, as if the words were somehow familiar, then he regained his composure and let out a short chuckle.

“You’re a funny kid, you know?” Qrow joked.

“Im serious! I know I only sound like a little kid, but I’m older than you!” Emil fussed.

“Yeah, let me guess, a thousand years old?”

“Mmm,” Emil pondered, “somewhere around there.” Qrow looked at him as if he were telling an obvious lie.

“Well, I guess I should explain. You told me something about you, and I’ll tell you something about myself. It’s not a very happy story though.” Emil sat down to tell the tale of him and his sister.

“And so, Emil and Halua Grimm became the most powerful weapons in the world.” He finished wistfully.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Qrow said solemnly.

“Yeah… But at least it led me to Nier, Weiss, and Kainé. I wouldn’t trade my time with them for anything. Okay! Now tell me something about yourself!” Qrow was shocked by the sudden shift in mood, but was happy to entertain the child.

“My name is Qrow, with a “q”, and my last name is Branwen, though that’s just the name of the tribe I grew up in. So, would your name happen to be spelled with two “m”s?”

“Yeah. Me and Halua always wondered why though. Do you think you could know why?”

“Well, like this world has Shades, my world has Grimm. I think it’s just a coincidence though.” Qrow says as he takes a sip. “Besides, you’re a hell of a lot better than any Grimm back home.” It was hard to discern, but Qrow could tell he was happier than before. That made him happier too. “So, were your eyes silver, by any chance?”

“No,” Emil began somewhat shyly, “they were more of a really light purple. Though, I think they were a different color before I gained my petrification, but I can't remember what color exactly if they were different.. Could people with silver eyes petrify things in your world?”

“They could petrify Grimm. That’s about it though. But, people with silver eyes are said to be destined to become great warriors.”

“I think Nier said that Yonah had silver eyes.” Emil mentioned.

"What about Yonah?" They heard Nier say as he climbed up to where the two were sitting. At their own paces, the two got up.

"That she has silver eyes, right? Qrow said that in his world, they become awesome fighters!"

"Hmm… I don’t think she’s fit for the warrior lifestyle. But, if it’s a sigh that she'll live a longer life, I'll take it. But until then,"

"We keep on going, yeah, yeah. Let's hurry up already." Kainé interrupted as she kicked the rock blocking their entrance out of the way. "I haven't killed enough shithole shades for today."

"The hussy is right that we should move along. The sooner we take care of things, the better." Weiss stated as he ushered them in.

Once inside, the place was virtually unchanged since Nier's last visit. Kainé didn't think much of the place. Weiss seemed shocked that this was the place where he was stored. Emil, however, was clearly enamored by the place.

"Wowww… this place is pretty, isn't it?" He praised quietly as he floated over towards the center where the towering tree stood. There, warm sunlight filtered through, alleviating the coldness of rusting metal and decaying concrete.

"Hmm. It would be a nice place to relax for a little bit." Qrow responds as he follows Emil. It's quiet and calm there. He thinks it could have been a hotel, based on the layout.

"Not while shades are here though." Nier commented as the soulless monsters readied to fight.

Promptly, the group got to culling the local shade population. Swords galore, magic, and a favored spear, all end the lives of the shadowy entities. Some are even left petrified.

"Emil, you can still petrify shit?" Kainé asks him out of curiosity.

"Yeah, I, um..." he begins as if feeling guilty.

"Sweet. Smashing stone shades really hits the spot." Kainé smiled cruelly as she reduced a statue to rubble. "Ahh, that felt bitchin'."

Briefly, Qrow contemplated if he should allow himself to cuss. On one hand, he would feel a lot better. On the other, he was just starting to be able to control his tongue around Ruby and Yang, and he didn't want to undo his hard work. It took a lot more effort than he would have wanted to admit.

"Hey, Qrow?" Nier called to get his attention.

"Yeah?" Qrow called back before tripping over a stair step and hitting his head. "Fucking stair!" he snarled. Cussing was fine so long as it wasn't around Ruby and Yang, he decided. If he wasn't around them, it was alright. He then noticed the shade above him.

"I've got you!" Emil shouted. Swiftly, it was petrified, and then destroyed by Kainé.

"Careful old timer." Kainé warned as she helped him up. "Can't have your ass dying on us."

"Such a kind soul you have, helping an old man like me." he teased.

"Pft." she responded as she rolled her eyes. She heard a snicker come from Weiss and snapped her neck at him. "Got somethin to say, book?"

"Oh, to a kind, young woman such as yourself? Heavens no." He replied.

"If you say so, Weissy." she glared at him with an innocent grin. As they continued their trademark bickering, with Emil joining in to unwittingly embarrass both of them, Nier returned to his conversation with Qrow.

"So, what else can you tell me about those silver eyed fighters?" Nier questioned as he stabbed another shade through it's armor.

"Back in my world, they're a myth at most to many. But, they do exist. With their eyes alone, they can take down hordes of Grimm. I guess the equivalent here would be Shades."

"I’d just be happy if Yonah could even go a day without needing a nap, if I'm being honest."

"What's wrong with her?"

"The Black Scrawl. There's no cure for it yet, but I'll take any kind hope I can get. As long as she's alive, even if it's risky like this, I'll be happy."

Qrow knew that there was probably no way the power of silver eyes would be in this world, but who honestly knew. Besides, he also knew that people needed all the hope they could get, even if he himself has mostly given up on the notion of hope..

"It's also genetic. Either of your parents had silver eyes?" Qrow asks

"Well, my mom did. I got my dad's eyes, but we both have his hair color. … Hmm, they were both great people. My mom was a good fighter too." He said fondly. “But when the Scrawl started to take over her, she had weird dreams. She said she saw weird but huge rectangular structures that went high into the sky, and things that moved on wheels at unnatural speeds."

"It sounds like she saw a city. Maybe one from before whatever happened that made this world like this." Qrow commented as he and Kainé slashed away at a huge shade.

"She also… she also had nightmares. In them, she fought these pale white beasts with glowing red eyes she said she fought them with incredible powers, powers like Emil's…" Nier had never really connected the dots before. It was just something he had never considered, always too busy with other things to reminisce about his mother like this.

…

No response. It was quiet.

"Huh?" He said in confusion as he looked around. Kainé and Qrow were gone. "Emil! Get close to me!"

"Huh? What?! Where'd they go?!" Emil questioned as he noticed the disappearance of his friends.

"It could be a shade, one with powers previously unknown to us. We should stay close to each other." Weiss advised.

"Right!" Emil nodded. Cautiously, they circled about, looking all over to see if they could spot anything unusual, and fending off the few shades that remained on the floor..

"I can sense some strong magic nearby, but I cannot pinpoint where. Can you two here us!" Emil shouted out.

"Perhaps w─" Weiss's words were interrupted by a sudden crash that caused the floor to give way beneath Nier.

"I got you!" Emil said as he lunged for. Nier. But, his efforts were for naught. He too was mysteriously swept away by a shadow. Thinking fast, Nier stabbed his sword into the wall to slow his fall.

“What kind of shade is that?! What did it do to them?!” he shouted as he landed.

“We are in the presence of a powerful shade, one capable of using incredible magic. They’re still alive, I know that much. If we kill it, it’s magic should be undone!” Weiss replied.

“All we have to do is find it then.” Easier said than done, but, it would be done.

Silently, they were back to back, waiting in anticipation for an attack. Nier was tense, ready to pounce at the vile shade. Weiss readied a sealed verse, taut and set to pin down the enemy for the kill. Nier looked up, left, right, everywhere he could look, except for below himself, where his own shadow betrayed him.

-

With heavy breathing, Qrow opened his eyes to be surrounded by darkness. It wasn’t the darkness of a moonless night in the middle of nowhere. That did not even compare. This was an advanced darkness very few things in the world could compare to. In front of him lay an unknowing expanse, a field of nothingness, a─

“Turn around, dumbass.”

“Huh? Oh.” Qrow sighed as he stopped flailing about. There was Kainé and Emil. She was lulling about as Emil did… something magic related. They all floated in the void, but were otherwise perfectly fine.

“Make yourself comfortable, or whatever. Emil will get us out soon enough. I swear to hell I’m gonna tear the little shit stain that did this to fucking shreds.” she hissed.

“I take it this isn't a thing that happens everyday?”

“No.” Emil answers as he fiddles with a glyph. “The craziest things tend to be giant, monstrous shades every now and then. But we always take care of them!”

“Yeah, we take real good care of them, don't we, sunshine?” a cold, cruel, and sharp voice says from the unknown. Qrow knows that this voice is dangerous. He can sense it, so he held Harbinger out, prepared to strike. Emil notices the voice too, and hurries with his magic. Kainé is unphased, and rolls her eyes at the remark

“Show yourself!” Qrow shouted into the void. For a moment, he thinks it is the monster that captured them.

“Hmm? Ooh, they can hear me. Finally! Do you know how boring it can get just talking to one person? Real fucking boring.”

“Ugh, do you ever shut up? Like really? I could cut your tongue out and you’d still find a way to talk more than anyone else.” Kainé complains. But, she is justified in her grievance. “Hm? Oh. That’s just the shade that lives in me. Just ignore his bitchass.”

“Hello mister shade!” Emil greets innocently.

“You’re supposed to tell this one to fuck off, Emil.”

“Oh. Okay. Fuck off mister shade!” he corrects, and resumes his work.

“Adorable.” Tyrann deadpans. “So, dear black bird. What sort of atrocities are there in your home. I’d kill to know.”

“There’s the kinds of things that would kill you first.” he retorts. Qrow didn’t like this thing. If this was the standard for shades, then it was a good thing they were being slaughtered.

“Fat chance, but that sounds like my kind of place. Tell me, is the death slow and painful?” Qrow is disgusted as the thing laughs.

“You get used to it after a while.” Kainé shrugs. Before Qrow can respond, they’re on the roof, where Grimoire Weiss also is.

“It worked!” Emil triumphantly shouts

“GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that! You’re all fortunate I can’t get a heart attack!” Weiss berated.

“Where’s Nier?” Kainé demanded.

“Beyond this door, but, it is blocked by a magical barrier. If we all focus our attack on it, we should be able to break it.” Weiss explained, and on the count of three, magic assaulted the door Nier was behind, breaking it and the barrier. They could see the shadow descending down onto Nier.

“YOU WILL DIE YOU FILTHY BROTHER KILLER!” it screamed.

Thankfully, Emil was quick enough to cast a protective barrier around him. It floated in place as it attempted to break the barrier. Quickly, Qrow rushed at the thing, except he could see that it wasn’t exactly just anything. It was Hazel, possessed by a shade? Qrow had a million and one questions, but he had no time for them. He kicked the monstrous man and fired a bullet to his chest. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to take Hazel out, but it was enough to send him flying, flying back into the shadows.

“We’re not too late, are we?” Emil wondered.

“Nope. Just in time.” Nier responded gratefully as Qrow helped him up.

“Hold your conversing for later. More pressing issues are at hand.” Weiss reminded them as he floated back over to Nier.

“Right. Let’s just stay close together.” Qrow ordered. “He can't take us all on at once.”

With great tenseness, they all cautiously made their way out of the shrine. They eyed every shadow they passed, and relied mostly on ranged attacks to dispatch any brave shades that dared to attack. Only when they finally left the shrine and onto the boat did they all begin to feel safe, all but Qrow. Something wasn't sitting right with him, and it wasn't just Hazel appearing. He couldn't make a sound conclusion yet, but he knew he would in time

-

“That guy, he was possessed too, but it was different somehow.” Kainé revealed.

“I have some information that might help make sense of things. We should try to settle down first though.” Qrow suggested.

“Agreed.” Weiss concurred. “It has been a long day, and we’ll be much safer in the sunlight and the open field.”

With that, resident expert campers Kainé and Emil decided on a good spot to set up on. While Emil got the fire ready, which didn't take long thanks to magic, Kainé reaped some fresh mutton. Before long, a fresh meal was served. It was plain, of course, but it was warm, edible food, that didn't taste like an abomination, which Nier was particularly grateful for.

“Old timer,” Kainé began as she bit into a piece of meat, “what were you gonna say about that possessed guy?”

“He’s from your world, isn’t he?” Weiss guessed. Qrow nodded his head yes, and swallowed a bite.

“Hazel. He works for the woman that controls the monsters of my world. I’m sure that at least one of his goals is to get in the way of my mission.” Qrow said with annoyance. But, if anything, he expected Hazel or someone to show up sooner and pose a problem.

“Why would he focus on me then?” Nier wondered. “It’d make more sense for him to target you then.”

“Maybe it was the shade that possessed him?” Emil Suggested.

“Could be. It looked like the shade in him had a lot of control.” Kainé answered. She remembered how the massive fiend was covered almost head to toe in the shade pattern. Filthy brother killer, huh? Sounds like someone was having a lot of fun before we even came along. A man after your own heart, ey sunshine?

“But…” she continued, “he didn’t exactly seem out of control either.”

“Now that I think about it, the eyes seemed familiar. Remember those stone guardians that imprisoned you, Weiss?”

“Not fondly. It was hardly how a Grimoire such as myself should be greeted.” Weiss complained. “But, yes, why?”

“Remember that one of them had glowing red eyes? His had that glow to them.”

“I see now. My former wardens were siblings, and it appears as if one of them survived our initial attack and wants revenge.”

“And that would be a cause Hazel would sympathize with. I could be that they're in sync, rather than one of them being in control.” Qrow murmured as the gears in his head turned. Shades and Grimm appeared to have some similarities, so perhaps Salem had taken interest in that. After all, what better way to learn about the monsters than to become one?

"There's just one problem though, why would a shade have a brother? Shades don't have family." Emil reminded them.

"Just as I am a product of ancient magic that is unknown today, perhaps they are too. They may very well just be a special case of rare, ancient magic influencing an archaic pair of shades." Weiss reasoned.

Wanna tell them the truth? I wanna see the looks on their faces when they realize just what they've been killing! Ha ha haa!

"Doesn't matter. They're our enemy now." Kainé tells them firmly.

"Right. It doesn't matter what kind of shade they are. They're still a shade, and we have to kill them before they kill us." Nier affirmed after taking one last bite and letting out a long yawn.

"... You three get some sleep. Me and the book,"

"Grimoire Weiss." he interrupted to correct.

"Me and little Weissy Weiss here will keep watch." Qrow taunted. Qrow had to say he felt proud of himself when he saw the grimoire's reaction. It was like ruffling up an Atlesian, which always made him feel better.

"Oh joy. Another bane to my existence." Weiss commented sarcastically.

"Will you shut the fuck up already. We’re trying to sleep." Kainé

"And when you want some sleep, let me know. Don't feel bad or anything either. I hardly even need any sleep." Emil directed at Qrow.

"Sure thing." he answered.

As the hours progressed, Qrow and Weiss managed to turn civil with one another as Qrow sipped out of his flask every now and then. From Weiss, Qrow learned that blood and words were the focuses of the grimoire's magic. Blood was the physical component of the magic, and words were where the power resided. Although, the words used were a mystery much like the script that occasionally accompanied it.

In turn, Qrow shared the scant information he knew about magic. The most common magic of his world was elemental, the magic that belonged to the maidens. Then there was Oz. His powers included the elements as well. A simple way to understand the rest of his magic was that it concerned energy, the flow, transfer, and magnitude of it. A specific portion of that ability was given to him and his sister to aid them in their little parlor trick. Upon their deaths, that power would return to him.

And then there was the depraved woman known as Salem. The full extent of her powers was unknown to him. Power over the Grimm was an obvious magic of hers. He imagined her abilities included the elements as well, since it seemed to be a common magic. Beyond that, he could only guess with uncertainty.

“So, what about the magic that made you a book? I doubt you were always a grimoire.”

“Truth be told, I do not know if I ever was anyone or anything else. The best theory I have is that it involves humans of the old world. But, for what purpose I was intended to serve or how exactly I came to be, it is all hardly of any importance now.”

“Now?” Qrow wondered. The book looked around to make sure the kids were truly asleep.

“When Nier beat me out of my slumber, I only had my knowledge, no memories to speak of. Without him and my memories, I still could have done as I so pleased, but I did not because I couldn’t just let him end up hurt. And then it just so happened that our goals aligned. And then came the Shadowlord and Grimoire Noir. They almost succeeded in using me for what I can only assume was my purpose, but I eventually came to my senses thanks to a certain foul mouth. I didn’t want to leave them, you see.”

“Well aren’t you a big softie?” Qrow teased. He had a feeling the book would have rolled his eyes if he could have.

“You are a menace, second only to Kainé. But, I suppose I am. She is much the same. Therefore, I imagine you are much the same, hmm?” the grimoire accused.

“... I guess so.” Qrow admitted. “Can’t say it always feels good.”

“I imagine so.” The book commented as the man took the last drink of his canteen. “While it has been nice talking to someone who isn’t a moody teen, I’m sure you need some sleep.”

“Yeah. Some sleep sounds good.” He said as he gently awoke Emil, and took his place to rest for the “night.”

-

“So, where to next?” Qrow asked as he served himself a piece of mutton seasoned with nearby herbs courtesy of Emil.

“Back to the village. That was the best lead I had, and nothing came out of it. So I’ll have to see if Devola and Popola have any new information for me.” Nier answered.

“Me and Emil will be around then. See you two in a bit.”

“You two aren’t gonna go with us?” Qrow wondered.

“Yeah, the shitfaced villagers don’t really like us.” Kainé answered.

“So?”

“Devola and Popola thought it would be best if we stayed away so we didn’t scare them or anything.” Emil replied sadly.

“What? Do they own the place.”

“No, they do not, but─” Weiss was about to explain before being cut off.

“Who cares then. Come on Kainé, I never took you as someone who followed the rules like that stick in the mud over there.” Qrow taunted, referring to the book in the air.

“Alright then. Emil, we’re going to get in that dumbass village.” she said with finality.

“But what about the guards?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Hmm… Remember what I said about making people feel sorry?” she questioned him with a sinister smile.

“I do not like that look, hussy.”

“Fuck you.” she spat at the book and turned to Qrow. “And we have just the perfect prop.”

-

Two guards are stationed atop the gate see Nier and his friends rush to the gate. It’s difficult to tell, but one of the two outsides appeared to be holding a blob of black in their hands.

“Oh god it’s them again.” says one.

“What do we do? Popola said they wouldn’t be a problem.” said the other.

“Okay, let’s just remind them. Maybe they forgot.” guard A suggested doubtful they indeed forgot.

“Did you forget they have magic?!” guard B shouted quietly and fearfully as they neared.

“Shit.”

“Hey! You gotta let us in!” Nier shouted.

“Please, we have to help this poor bird!” Emil begged as the black bird twitched in his boney hands.

“I just couldn’t leave it to die at the hands of a shade,” Kainé began innocently, “Just like when I saved you two from that giant shade.” Her voice had added just a bit of edge to it, enough for the guards to feel the weight of her words.

“Or like when I helped fight the Shadowlord when everyone else ran away! Or when Kainé saved Yonah when no one else could!” Emil added.

“Won’t you please let us in? All so we can help this poor little birdy here?” At that moment, the crow let out a wheeze of a caw. The guards could not still help but feel somewhat threatened. But, despite this, they conceded.

“Fine. Just… neh. Nevermind.” One said with defeat.

“Thank you so very much.” Kainé smiled.

“Yeah, thank you mister guards!” Emil thanked genuinely. “Don’t you worry little birdy, we’ll fix you up in no time.” he cooed.

“Thanks guys!” Nier waved as they passed through the gate. They all tried to hide their giggling as they made their way to nier’s home.

“Well, that went better than I imagined.” Weiss admitted. “And here I thought you were going to directly threaten them.”

“That was plan B.” Kainé told him.

“Of course it was.” he deadpanned.

“Cheer up. You guys’ll finally, really meet Yonah. She’s always wanted to thank you two properly.” Nier told them.

“Oh I’m so excited! Should we surprise her?” Emil suggested.

“Umm, probably not. She’ll probably faint. Okay, just wait here for a moment.” He said as they got to the front of the home, and he quickly went inside. After making sure none of the villagers were looking, Qrow turned back into his human form.

“Excited?” he asked the two.

“Eh, sure.” Kainé shrugged with nonchalance. But, she could not hide her smile.

“I am! Do you think she remembers what we looked like? Does my scarf look alright? I want to make a good impression.” Emil worried.

“I don’t really think she’ll care about that, kid. But,” he began as he fixed the green scarf, “it looks fine.”

“Alright come on in.” Nier said nervously. “Sorry if it looks messy, I tried to clean up a little but,”

“I’m so happy you’re all here!” Yonah shouted, interrupting her brother. “It’s nice to finally get the chance to talk with you two!” she said to Emil and Kainé.

“It’s nice to officially meet you Yonah.” Emil greeted.

“Yeah. If Nier’s not gonna shut up about you, we might as well meet you.” Kainé reasoned.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, mister Qrow. I’m glad Nier has another friend for me to meet!”

“No problem kid. It’s nice to meet you too.” he replied. She was an adorable little thing, reminding him of Ruby with her bubbly demeanor. It was also obvious she was her brother’s kid sister. They had that same white hair, and a similar facial structure. And now that he could see her eyes, they were indeed silver. But, it was likely that didn’t mean anything.

“Do you guys want a drink or anything?” Nier offered.

“How about I make them something! Nier says I make great food!” she beamed. Behind her, her brother’s eyes went wide with fear, an emotion any of them had rarely seen.

“No! I’ll buy something!” he quickly interjected. “It’s a special day. We should buy them some food from the village. You guys’ll like that, right?” he said as if it were a plea.

“Sure.” Kainé said indifferently. While she had heard of Yonah’s atrocious cooking, she wasn’t a wimp and would have taken some of her cooking just fine. But, she figured Nier could use a break.

“I’m fine with that.” Emil answered. While he too had heard of her cooking, he doubt he would have minded it anymore.

“... I’ll try some of your cooking.” Qrow told her. If Nier’s reaction was anything to go by, it was a very bad decision. But, he couldn’t stand to see her face droop down a little, even if it meant suffering a single poor meal. He was sure it couldn’t be that bad though.

“I’ll go to the market real quick then.” Nier said as he made his way to the door.

“Or, how about you let me and the grimoire go. You kids should stay here and have some fun.” Qrow suggested.

“By my word he can think! We’ll be back soon then. Don’t tear the house down.” Weiss quickly agreed before Nier could say no.

“No promises Weissy!” Yonah shouted as she waved a quick goodbye.

“Yeah Weissy, no promises.” Kainé teased. Once outside, they could hear the lively and joyful commotion as it just barely escaped the walls.

“A rare moment of peace and quiet, I must thank you for that at least.” Weiss thanked.

“I just didn’t want them to think I’d run with the money.” Qrow reasoned.

“Believe it or not, they’re rather trusting.”

“And it hasn’t come back to bite you yet?”

“No, surprisingly. Though I suppose that should be cause for concern. Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Weiss dismissed as they passed the fountain, absent of Devola for once.

“Well, did you notice anything odd about the back of the building as we climbed up it?”

“Hmm… I can’t say that I do. All looked as a rock face should.”

“Even with the ladders and wooden planks?”

“Well of course! How else─ Ooh, I see! Based on the location, it all should have rotted or rusted away.” Weiss finally realized.

“But it wasn’t.”

“Begging the question of who set it there for us…”

“Any idea who that might be?” Qrow asked.

“Well, Popola said it was near a trade route, so it’s possible traders built it.”

“But why would they?” Qrow asked.

“Why indeed. There was no other activity in the shrine save for us and the shades. My, this is a most concerning conundrum.” Weiss worried. “But, a small break from that is in order. The market awaits us, and I doubt you know what they want.”

“And that is also what I brought you for. See, I can think.”

“Indeed you can.” Weiss replied. All in all, the book was rather surprised by the man. He was much more capable and intelligent than he looked or let on.

After gathering a few items, some healthy fruits, a few vegetables, some juice, and a bit of seasoned meat, they began to make their way back to the small home.

“So, any idea on who could set you all up?” Qrow asked.

“If someone is in fact steering us onto a path of their creation, I do not know who it could be. Such a person, or group, would have to have quite the amount of resources and power to do so, as I imagine they would have been doing so for some time.” Weiss answered.

“Yeah, there is the chance it could just be some odd coincidence or some rare natural phenomenon that preserved the metal and wood. But still, I’ve got a feeling something’s up.” Qrow reasoned. His instincts tended to be rather good after a lifetime of honing them.

“As do I. But, I believe we should not mention this to Nier and them. They’re all stressed enough as is, and this may not even be a real concern.” Weiss suggested. His unparalleled wisdom told him it would not be a bad idea to suspect some foul play.

“If you say so. In the meantime, I’ll be doing a bit of recon. Hold these.” he said as he handed Weiss the groceries, placing them in a magical hand.

“Such a waste of my talents.” he huffed. “But if you could, give Popola a visit at the library on the hill? Tell her what happened and see if she has any new information would you?” he requested.

“Consider it done Weissy.” Qrow taunted.

“I will enjoy seeing you eat the lass’s cooking.” he said ominously before Qrow left and he reentered the home.

-

After scanning the town for half an hour, Qrow had found nothing of interest, save for a shiny coin. He was sure it likely wasn’t worth much though. He then made his way to the library at the top of the hill. Once inside, he could see that it was a rather small library, but all things considered, impressive. A number of patrons were scanning the walls of their contents. He asked one of them to point him to Popola, and told him where she was.

Just as he stepped onto the stairs, he could have sworn he saw Ironwood. He looked back for a moment, and saw that no one was looking at the books by the stairs. Children’s books, by the looks of it. Qrow laughed at his mind playing such a trick on him. Qrow had no affinity for men like him, but, Ironwood was not a bad man. Not exactly a good one either but the same could be said for many. At the very least, he was easy on the eyes and a decent drinking buddy, and very fun to rile up.

After knocking on the door and waiting for an answer, he entered when Popola told him to come in. In there were two women, twins by the looks of it. The main difference was their auburn hair, more red than brown though. One had slightly messy hair, with it jutting out in some places, while the other’s was perfectly straight.

“Hmm? You’re a new face. I was kinda expecting Nier.” said the one with messy hair to her sister.

“I’m Popola, and this is my sister Devola. Is there anything we can help you with?” The twin at the desk asked.

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Nier’s.”

“Oh, is that so? I’m glad then.” Devola said.

“He needs all the help he can get. So, what was it you needed?” Popola added.

The two seemed innocent enough, but Qrow could just feel that something was up with them. Though, he could not tell if it was something good or bad. Time would tell.

“Nier’s with Yonah right now, so he wanted me to pass on some info.” He began. He went through the gist of what happened at the shrine, to the possessed human. Though, he left out the info about he and Hazel being from another world. Around these two, he wanted to feel secure and revealed as little about him and his situation as possible.

“I see. That is concerning.” Popola commented.

“The shades are becoming more and more brazen, huh?” Devola commented as she lounged on the couch.

“Any idea why?” he asked them.

“Their leader is the Shadowlord. Whatever the reason, its because of him. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you yet.” Devola responded nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry, but was that all? We were kinda in the middle of something.” Popola explained. Qrow wondered what exactly they were in the middle of, but knew he couldn’t just pry like that.

“Yeah. Nier wanted to know if you came across any new leads.”

“Yes actually.” she responded happily. She opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and an oddly shaped piece of stone. “This is a part of the key to the Shadowlord’s castle.” she said as she handed him the paper and key piece. The Stone Guardian, Sacrifice, The Law of Robotics, Memory Tree, and Loyal Cerberus.

“We’re not sure what Sacrifice and Loyal Cerberus are referring to, but its likely that The Stone Guardian piece was somehow connected to Gretel at the shrine.” Devola began.

“The Law of Robotics likely concerns the junk heap, and Memory Tree may have something to do with the Forest of Myth.” Popola finished.

“Alright then, Thanks ladies. I’ll be sure to give him this stuff.” Qrow waved goodbye as he walked out.

“Of course. Take care now.” Popola said.

“Yeah, and make sure Nier stays safe, will you?” Devola requested with undeniable concern. Of course, he agreed to.

As he closed the door, Qrow wondered just how they knew the shade at the shrine had a name. That was most concerning and suspect. Just how they came into the possessions of the items was a suspicious mystery too. Not only that, why just ask to keep Nier safe? What about his friends? He may not have been as capable as them, very few likely were, but there was no doubt they could be hurt too.

And then the Shadowlord. Qrow thought he must be somewhat like Salem, a manipulator of shadowy beasts. It was safer to assume he was intelligent, and leading those kids down some path of his creation. But why? And there was still the concern of who was helping him, if there was anyone.

By the time he made it back to the house, his mind was running through the possibilities. He was glad he could run them by the grimoire. While somewhat annoying, he was no doubt wise and smart. Though, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a terrifying smell.

“Brothers, what is ─”

“You’re back!” Yonah exclaimed, holding out a pot of… something. He wondered how she made it an unnatural looking bright blue. He doubted she had food dye.

“Just in time for your dinner, it seems.” Weiss snickered. Qrow gulped.

“Looks… interesting.” He commented with a smile. He reminded himself he was doing this to make a sickly little girl happy.

“It’s an awesome color isn’t it? I wonder if I could get Sebastian to make something as cool looking as that.” Emil said.

“Not unless─” Weiss said as he was cut off by a jab to his spine and a dirty look from Nier.

“I guess I’ll try some. I doubt it would taste bad to me.” Kainé said.

“Not that it ever tastes bad!” Nier affirmed intensely.

“I’ll try some too then! Can’t let Mister Qrow have it all for himself. I think it smells good anyways, so that means it’ll taste good.” Emil said as a bowl was set before him. Next was Kainé, and finally Qrow.

“Are you sure you don’t want any, Nier? I made a lot more than I meant to.” she told him.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I already ate a lot.” he reasoned. He was thankful she didn’t press any further.

“Okay, on the count of three, all of you take a sip!” she adorably ordered. “One… Two… Three!”

Each of them took down some of the soup. Nier covered his eyes as he did so, and prayed they would all act fine. When he didn’t hear anyone gag, he uncovered them to see the trio gulping down the soup.

“This is good.” Kainé said in between gulps.

“My word, this is the quietest I’ve ever seen her! … See! The hussy didn’t even bark back at me! What kind of enchantments do you use young Yonah? I must know!” Weiss insisted as he moved about in grimoire fashion. It made her giggle.

“It’s my secret!” she joked.

“It’s sweet and salty, with a bit of bitterness to even it out.” Emil explained. “I really like it.”

“I love it.” Qrow said as he savored it. There was definitely some alcohol in this, weak, but alcohol nonetheless. Just how she got some in there, he did not know. He wasn't going to complain or question it though. “Pour some in here for me, will you kid?” he said as he offered her his empty flask. The soup, if it could be called that, wasn’t anything strong, but it was free, and the best kind of booze is free booze.

“Of course mister!” she replied gleefully. Internally, Qrow laughed that he would get a refill from such a situation.

“Hmm… I guess I could try some.” Nier said after contemplating grabbing a spoon.

“Hey! Back off, or else!” Kainé threatened as he went for her bowl. Cautiously, he backed away.

“You can have some of mine.” Emil offered.

As Nier took a spoonful out of Emil’s bowl, he inspected it nervously. It did not smell good to him, and was beginning to regret his decision. But, Yonah was watching, so there was no backing away. Quickly, he took the spoon into his mouth. It was terrible. Either they were good liars, or they somehow all actually enjoyed it. Quickly, he swallowed it.

“That was… Great!” he tried to say with enthusiasm.

“I’m glad you like it! Here, have a bowl!” She said as she slid him a bowl.

“Oh no, I’m still to full Yonah, I─”

“Mine now.” Kainé announced as she stole the bowl and began to wolf it down. Qrow chuckled.

“More please!” Emil asked as he held out his bowl.

“Fill me up again, yeah?” Qrow asked as he offered his half empty bowl. Happily, she refilled both of their bowls.

“I’m so glad you all liked it!” she said, smiling brighter than the sun.

It made Nier the happiest among the group. Despite everything, she wanted to help, so seeing her actually able to do that made him feel a warm feeling he hadn’t felt in some time. She proudly placed the pot back on the stove and resumed eating her meal from earlier.

“Hey, you’re not gonna eat any?” Kainé questioned, hoping she wasn’t taking any food away from the little girl.

“Oh, no. It tastes terrible to me. Devola said that it’s because I have weird taste buds.” She answered cordially as she reheated some food from earlier. Nier lamented the fact that he didn’t think of that excuse for himself. Well, he could perhaps use it in the future, blame it on puberty or something if he had to.

-

After a day of rest in the home, the group decided to leave for the Junk Heap. Yonah begged for them to stay just a little longer, but Nier was quick to say he needed to take care of things. As she deflated, he was even quicker to remind her that they all had such a fun time together, and that they would do it again soon enough.

“So, what’s the junk heap like?” Qrow asked aloud.

“It’s in the name. It’s a heap of junk, duh.” Kainé sassed.

“To be precise, it’s a place filled to the brim with junk from the old world, before it regressed to become what it is now.” Weiss explained.

“There are a lot of machines there. They’re a mix of technology and magic. The world sure had a lot of power and knowledge back in the day.” Emil reminisced sadly.

“Well, the machines still break against our weapons, so the old world couldn’t have been that powerful if you ask me.” Nier added.

“Power alone only does so much. Still, let’s just hope we don’t have to spend more time than we need to. But, based on what your friends said, I’m thinking the piece might be tied to a specific machine. And that, might take some time.” Qrow lamented.

He had already learned some nice info about magic from Weiss, but it wasn’t enough to feel satisfactory. He doubted a place filled with machines would reveal much to him, even if they also were part magic. However, he was glad he was able to help these kids. That was a goal he came to value more than he originally thought he would.

When they made it to the entrance to the heap, Nier made one stop at the brother’s weaponsmith to see about upgrading Beastcurse. He left Emil, Qrow, and Kainé outside longer than he anticipated. Weiss expected some sort of verbal spat when he joined them back outside. To his surprise, the two were formally sparring, with Emil as their referee.

Kainé was strong and quick with her swords, but Qrow still surpassed her. Serrated blades screeched against the sword Harbinger. Weiss could see that it was a well crafted weapon. Their back and forth was a sight to behold, though Weiss was sure Kainé could beat him if she used her magic. With a skillful parry, Kainé was sent skidding back.

“You’re a pretty good fighter, no surprise there, but you could still use some more experience.” he told her.

“Experience this!” she yelled as she rushed at him. Once they met, a volley of exchanges could be heard echoing.

“Get his ass Kainé!” Emil cheered. So much for a clinical ref.

“You got him now Kainé!” Nier assured.

“Show that hussy the might of incomparable wisdom!” Weiss cheered on Qrow. Someone had to.

In one swift motion he kicked her away. And almost as if by magic, the blade transformed into a scythe before their eyes. Kainé, however, did not notice, and sped back to him for another assault. That was her error. The scythe hooked the blades out of her hands by their chain, and a low kick felled her to the ground.

“Like I said earlier, power alone only does so much.” He told her as he held out a hand to help her up. Rolling her eyes, she took the help.

“Yeah, whatever.” she said.

“Your weapon, how did it do that?” Nier wondered as Qrow handed Kainé back her swords.

“Huh, wait, when the fuck did that happen?” Kainé exclaimed as she noticed Harbinger’s new form.

“That?” he said as it transformed back into a sword. “In my world, this kind of thing is commonplace. Its just a series of gears and stuff. Nothing special.” he replied dismissively. “... Well, no. It is kinda special.” His weapon was a rather unique one, even among the many huntsmen of Remnant.

“Impressive indeed, but our fun has been had. We have a new clue on the Law of Robotics. There is a machine that has partnered with a shade. If there is anything that is our target, that must be it.” Weiss announced.

“Don't be such a stick in the mud, book. The fun doesn’t even have to end, you know.” Qrow told him as they made their way into the heap.

“There is such a thing as a time and a place, you know.” Weiss annoyingly reminded him.

“I’d say this is a good time and a place.” Qrow replied. Then, an idea came to him. “For example, this is a good time and place for a bet.”

“... Really? I never would have guessed.” he replied sarcastically. “Please impart your wisdom unto me, Grimoire Weiss, as to how this is the proper setting for what is likely a petty bet?”

“Simple. I bet I can teach beach day over here better than how you can teach big brother here.”

“Pah! Do you truly think a ruffian such as yourself would serve as a better instructor than me? I agree to your little bet. I am sure some humility will do you good, once you lose.”

“Hey! Who said I gave a shit about this?” Kainé protested. “I am not gonna spend some time listening to some old timer telling me how to fight.”

“Here take this then.” Nier said as he held out a large sword with a bird motif. “You can wield two swords like Kainé.”

“Uhh, are you sure? I mean─”

“Yes, it’s fine.” he assured. “I still have the spear and dagger anyways on me anyways. It’s no big deal.”

“If you say so.” he said as he somewhat reluctantly took the sword. Now, he matched Kainé with two swords in hand. Granted, his were larger and heavier and lacked the chains her sword had. Looking at the golden sword, it was rather simple. But, it did have a strong and unique silhouette.

“Good. With that settled, let this one-sided battle begin!” Weiss announced confidently.

“I still haven't agreed to this crap.” Kainé reminded them.

“Don’t worry. I was a combat teacher for a bit, and I was amazing.” Qrow proudly assured.

“Wait, what about me?” Emil asked.

“You’ll be our judge.” Qrow answered him.

“It is an important and honorable task, one I am sure you will perform well in.” Weiss added.

“Yes!” the little mage excitedly nodded. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be a great judge!”

“Ugh…” Kainé sighed as she rolled her eyes. Now she had to do it, for Emil.

“Hey, It’ll be fun, Kainé. If you end up winning, that means you’ll have helped beat Weiss in a bet too.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” she chuckled, a grin spreading across her face.

“It was nice knowing you, Weiss.” Nier said dejectedly.

“And what is that supposed to mean? I will not accept a defeatist attitude!” Weiss yelled affirmatively.

“Let’s show those losers how its done!” Kainé yelled excitedly as a wave of machines approached.

“Now you’re talking my language.” Qrow replied as he swiftly felled some machines in a display of bravado. The other sword, it felt surprisingly good in his hands, almost empowering as if by mysterious magic.

As they progressed, Weiss barked “tips” for Nier to follow. Most of the time, he followed them well. Nier didn’t mind. It was different fighting without Weiss’s magic, as he focused his attention onto studying Nier’s movements and technique, but Nier considered it a good challenge. Plus, it was safer to practice on the machines rather than shades. They had become more and more dangerous, just as he did. The machines remained much the same as they were when he last visited, and the time before that, and the time before that.

As for Qrow, he found that Kainé was difficult to teach, at first. She was a difficult person in general. But, he knew that he was too. In a sense, that made her easier to deal with. Qrow quickly found that she didn’t take well to being told what to do, even if it meant improving her fighting. What she did take well to was being shown what to do without being told to do it. She was someone who learned by observing, which is what he realized after going down the first elevator.

The machines at the lower levels of the Junk Heap were more of a challenge, but still nothing compared to their talent and skill. Dual wielding the large swords, many automatons were easily felled. Qrow had half a mind to take up dual wielding back home. An impressed Kainé followed in his footsteps, turning machines into scrap much more efficiently than before, and without the aid of magic.

However, Qrow’s semblance was starting to act up, and it was eating at him. Nier had tripped and nearly met the electric end of an automaton. And sure, some machines were crushed by falling ceiling tiles, but one even fell near Weiss, almost flattening him.

It was at that point Qrow said they could spit up in their search. To cover more ground. At first, Weiss and Nier wondered if that was a wise move. But, Kainé convinced them, saying that if they ran into the shade and machine, they’d reduce it to smoke and scrap metal easily. Emil also supported her and Qrow, but opted to stay with Nier and Weiss.

Having split up, Qrow was sure less bad things would happen to the people around them. But, it seemed as if his semblance just decided to focus more on him and Kainé. At one point, he fell down one of the bottomless pits, and had to fly out. A few feathers were singed as a result.

Later, in a dead end room, Kainé got body slammed by a machine because she was too preoccupied mangling a P-33. Thankfully, the machine that body slammed her didn’t have its electricity on, for some reason. Regardless, Kainé quickly exacted her furious revenge. After that, Qrow suggested they take a break out in the empty hallway.

“Dammit, what the hell?!” Kainé yelled frustratedly as she kicked the wall. “Why the fuck is today so shitty!” Again, she kicks the wall. “What! The! Fucking! Hell!” Qrow leans against the wall, and she takes a deep breath and joins him for a moment of rest. “Well, at least its not boring today.” Qrow lets out a quick chuckle.

“Sorry.” he apologizes. “Not everyday I hear something good about me.” She could now sense his unease. She looked at him, and saw that he seemed hurt. Well, not hurt, per say. More sad, the kind of sadness that comes from the bitter acceptance of what one perceives as terrible. It was familiar to her.

“So, what’s up with you, then?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a curse?” he asked her. She gave a quick laugh in response.

“You’re asking another walking curse that, you know?”

“Oh. For what its worth, I don’t think that shade makes you a curse.” he earnestly told her. After all, you can’t really blame a person if a literal monster inhabits their body against their will. Her sad and bitter laugh surprised him.

“He’s hardly a curse. More of an annoying bitch than anything.”

“That’s not hard to believe.” he scoffed all too knowingly. From what he could infer about the shade’s personality, he was the very sadistic, and very annoying type, He’d come across a few similar people in his work for Oz. In Qrow’s eyes, the only thing that separated such people from Grimm was their intelligence and other desires aside from sadism.

It did not escape Qrow that this meant that some other thing weighed her mind, some other thing that made her mark herself as cursed. He knew better than to pry. If she wasn’t going to say, she didn’t have to. He could respect that. He knew he’d be a hypocrite otherwise. Still, he felt that she at least deserved to know what plagued him, what was plaguing her because of him.

That, and she was still just a kid, an teen hardened by cruel life, but a kid to him nonetheless. If his time teaching had taught him anything about kids, it was that they opened up to adults who took the time to understand and empathize with them. Mr. Branwen, man who had lived through a hell of a youth worse than most, found that he was rather good at getting the kids to open up about their feelings and concerns. It was one of the few things he could say he was proud of about himself.

“I told Emil already, but I guess you should know too. I… ”

“Uhgg. I’m gonna stop you there. These kinds of things are always sob stories.” she told him, rolling her eyes in usual teenage manner. “I fuckin hate sob stories.” she said under her breath. “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with us. At the end of the day, we’re abominations either way, and we’ve still gotta live on regardless.”

“You’re pretty smart, you know?” Qrow chuckled. He’s sure she had a shitty life too. In an ideal life, kids don’t get that kind of thinking, so young at least. “You still wanna beat that book with me, yeah?” he asked, getting off the wall to stretch.

For a moment, Kainé hesitated. There was just something about him she felt that she could trust. She then noticed the concern, almost hurt yet resigned look on his face because she was taking so long to answer.

“Yeah, definitely.” she quickly confirmed. “But first, can you keep a secret?” she asked.

“Of course. What is it?”

She motioned for him to come closer. Even though it was just them two in the empty hallway, she still felt the need to whisper it. He lowered his head down, and let her whisper her secret to him. He was surprised at first. It was not what he was expecting in the slightest, but it was something he could very personally understand. In return, he shared a “secret” with her too.

He assured her, they were not monsters because of the body they were born with. She was a strong young woman. He told her that he felt much the same once, a long time ago, but assured her she too would overcome it.

Qrow knew he was not an epitome of self-love by any means. Far from it. But, his body was not a source of his self-hate. With an uncontrollable and unfortunate semblance, he was going to love that aspect of himself that he decided on, the part of himself that he could control. That part of himself he did not, would not, hate was a source of solace and comfort.

Qrow knew that Kainé wasn’t just going to love herself overnight, but he had given her some hope. That, she was thankful for. Just knowing that someone like Qrow was kinda like her, was comforting.

Don’t lose your hate so quickly now, sunshine. A weak, sad, pathetic voice told her.

-

While they all lost to Hazel and Gretel at the Junk Heap, they did manage to find the Law of Robotics key piece among some rubble.

But, Emil did later declare Qrow and Kainé the victors of the bet. Nier was ambivalent, but Weiss was absolutely livid, nearly unable to accept defeat. Qrow and Kainé had a lot of fun rubbing it in.

By the time they returned to the village to rest, he had come to accept his loss. Though, he stated that if their bet concerned magic, rather than weaponry, Qrow wouldn't stand a chance. He teased the book, saying he shouldn't be so sure of that.

Although reluctantly, the guards opened the gate on their command. Devola was playing the Song of the Ancients at the fountain this time around, eyes closed and focused on the song. So, it wasn't much of an issue to get past her unnoticed.

Once inside the home, Yonah squeaked with joy that they all returned so soon, and ran to hug her brother.

"It's nice to see you again too Yonah, but take it easy, ok? I don't want you to overexert yourself so much." Nier worried as he hugged her back.

"Ohh, you worry too much!" She scolded.

"He's just concerned, is all. Besides, you've got a good big brother. It's only natural for him to worry." Qrow explained.

"Well…" she sighed, "I guess you're right. I do have a pretty good big brother. I probably shouldn't complain too much. I promise to take it easy today then."

"Thank you Yonah. I heard that Popola managed to find some cards and taught you how to play with them. Maybe you could teach us, and we all could play?" He suggested. A smile beamed from her happy face at the idea.

"Okay! I'll go and find the cards." she announced as she went upstairs.

"I'm gonna go to the store real quick then!" He shouted.

"Alright! Don't take too long!" she shouted back.

"We'll help her look then." Kainé said.

"Sure. Want anything in particular?" He asked.

"No, I'm alright." Emil answered.

"A potato. … Two potatoes." Kainé said after a moment.

"Alright… Two potatoes." Nier said. He was unsure why she would want such a plain food.

"I'll go with you." Qrow offered. "I'm sure you need a break from the book."

"It is a pleasure and honor to be in my presence you know? Honestly, do you think the Grimoire Weiss is as common as a crass paperback?"

"Sure." Nier agreed as the two were walking out the door.

"Have fun, Weissy." Qrow goaded.

As the door closed, Weiss sighed. But, if he were being honest, he wouldn't mind just resting on a nice bookshelf for a moment. Nier was with Qrow, and the other kids were just upstairs where they could cause no trouble. He deserved a little rest, and there likely wouldn't be a better time for quite a while.

So, he found a spot on the nearly empty, but comfortable shelf in the corner near the staircase, and felt himself slowly drift into a calm and relaxed state.

-

"Thanks back there. For talking to Yonah and convincing her for me." Nier said graciously as they entered the shopping district. Truly, he was thankful.

"Eh." he shrugged. "Think nothin of it. Besides, you are a good brother. Trust me, I know what a bad sibling is, and you definitely aren't."

"It doesn't feel like that sometimes…"

"Yeah. It's easy to feel like you're never doing enough. I can promise you though, you're doing all you can, and it is a lot." Qrow assured him.

"Thanks. Again. That means a lot." Talking to Qrow, hearing him reassure him, it felt good, like it was something he needed, but didn't know he needed.

"You're welcome kid. Now come one, we've got some memories to make." He said, and proceeded to trip in front of the women at the fountain. He could hear them giggle. So much for trying to seem cool and stuff.

-

"Well, here are your potatoes." Nier said as he tossed them to her.

"Nice! You don't know how much I've been fucking craving these." She said, and took a bite out of one potato like it was an apple.

Qrow was not a man easily caught off guard. But that, that was shocking, and frankly, revolting.

"What?" she said to a staring Qrow as she took another bite.

"Why??? That's not how you eat them…"

"How the fuck are you supposed to eat 'em then?"

"Cook them?"

"And lose the crunch?"

"Ok my gods… give me those, I'll make fries."

"What the hell are fries?"

That broke Qrow's heart. After all that happened to him, it was not an easy thing to break. He could almost cry. He had to sit for a moment to process this. All the while, Kainé loudly munched on her potato.

"Okay." Qrow said once he recovered. "Just find me the other potato. I promise you will love fries. If you don't I will literally give you Harbinger."

He gave her a confused look. Right.

"My weapon." He clarified. Satisfied with the offer, she tossed him the other potato.

"You really named your weapon? You sleep curled up next to it or something?"

"That reminds me," interjected a refreshed Weiss, "the other blade you are currently in possession of is the Phoenix Sword."

"That's pretty believable." He said as he cut up the large potato. He was glad they bought cooking oil earlier.

"Would you like to hear the story I've collected on it?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Ugh." Kainé groaned. "I'm going upstairs so I'm not bored to fucking death." With that, she joined the others in a game of cards.

So far, Yonah had beaten both Emil and Kainé. Qrow imagines Nier was next to lose, and that Yonah was probably making up rules as they went. He'd figure he'd indulge her and lose later.

"Anyways, let me begin." Weiss said, and told the story.

This is an old story. A beautiful bird with brightly shining feathers lived silently and carefully in the depths of a forest.

One day, a child abandoned as a burden wandered into the depths of the forest. The bird took pity on the starved and sunken child, and pecked off one of its feathers to give to the child. The child brought it back and pleased his relatives, and he was able to live with his family again.

Hearing the story, people barged into the forest one after another, and told the beautiful bird of how poor, how unfortunate and how unrewarded they were. The beautiful bird took pity on them, and gave them one shining feather after another, and when it gave its last feather, the bird’s beautiful body was reduced to a sorry state. However, the ugly bird did not have any regrets.

The ugly bird that lost its feathers was freezing in the cold, and the child from before appeared in front of it. He told it that he was searching for a brightly shining and beautiful bird to repay his debts. The ugly bird was overjoyed, and told the child of its desire. "That was me. Please, would you not keep me warm in your chest?" But the child merely took one glance at the ugly bird and called it a liar, killing it with a huge sword and eating the burnt bird. Afterwards, he continued to search for the beautiful bird.

"... Well, that was something." Qrow commented.

"What were you expecting?" Weiss said accusingly.

"I don't know." Qrow responded defensively. "Ow!" He hissed as some oil splattered onto his hand. "Maybe how it was created, or something about its original owner?"

"Hmph, I imagine your weapon's story isn't to your tastes then."

"It doesn't have a story!" Qrow affirmed.

"Pah! All noteworthy weapons have a story, and yours is no exception!"

"Wait, wait. You're saying that Harbinger, my Harbinger, has a story?"

"Naturally. Do weapons in your world not have stories? Most odd." Weiss said before letting Qrow answer. "I suppose it is my duty to tell you your weapon's story then. So, I implore you to listen and listen well."

In a time not known, there lived an archer with jet black hair who killed, and killed, and killed the allies of the wretched light. The Goddess of Light ordered his death, as he was far too much of a threat for a mere mortal. She sent her greatest warrior to slay him. Equipped with divine magic and a holy armament, he obeyed his Goddess and killed the Hero of Innocent Darkness with his own fiery arrows.

Being an honorable and just soul, he ascended to an afterlife within the light. There, the cruel goddess controlled him as another one of her puppets. In her name, he ended the lives of many valiant souls who sought a world of freedom. Wherever he went, the goddess’s will followed in the form of a fiery arrow. To his dismay, he soon even surpassed the one who killed him, and became her new greatest warrior.

So, when a new living, breathing soul threatened her as he once did, it was this warrior’s duty to dispatch the threat. The threat was a young woman, much younger than he was when he took up arms against the goddess. He announced his arrival with the shining shot of a holy arrow into the air.

The woman… she seemed familiar to him. But, it was no time for distant memories. He had to carry out the will of the Goddess of Light, even if he did not want to. While a magic user, she was unique in how she wielded it. Rather than fight at a range, she fought up close. She lasted much longer than he had in his last fight, but even she too was felled. However, he too succumbed to her efforts. He lay there, burning by fiery arrows once more. In his final moments, he wondered, and feared, what awaited him in the death after death.

“Well, there’s your story. More satisfactory than the Phoenix Sword, hmm?”

“No.” Qrow deadpanned. “In fact, I’m gonna forget it. Well, I’ll forget it soon.” With that, he popped open the flask and downed it. He was hoping to ration it, but in all honesty, he’d rather not have to live with the fact that even his weapon was a sad mess. He was sure the alcoholic “soup” wasn’t going to be strong enough to actually help him forget, but, it was worth a shot.

“Underappreciated as usual.” Weiss sighed to himself.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough.” Qrow joked. “Come one, we’ve got kids to feed.”

Qrow carefully ascended the stairs, as to be sure he wouldn’t drop them. A cautious Kainé scrutinized a fry before taking a bite out of one. Her face lit up and she quickly shoved it into her mouth. The others quickly joined in on the indulgence, enjoying the simple treat as much as their voracious friend.

Nier threw money at him to get some more potatoes, and Yonah begged him to teach her how to make them. He was happy to oblige. It made him happy to see them all so energetic and pleased. He also made the book go with him to the shopping district so they could discuss some important matters.

All in all, Qrow was satisfied in how things were turning out. Sure. things could be better, but they definitely could have been a lot worse. So, this is a win in his book. It seemed odd that he felt so happy in this world, but he knew that he would have to leave this world soon. If anything, he preferred that. That way, he had less of a chance to ruin his time here, or ruin anything else. But, for now, he would enjoy this mission.

-

Qrow woke up feeling groggy, and was hit with a terrible headache. His first thought was that he had gotten stupid drunk before returning to Oz and was paying the price. But, as his senses came back to him, he noticed that he wasn’t at Beacon. He wasn’t sure where he was. He quickly got up and searched for his weapon. It was at the side of the bed he was on, and he quickly shifted it into its scythe form.

Cautiously, he went for the door. He found it odd that his capturers let him hold onto his weapon, but he wasn’t going to complain. Just as he was about to touch the handle to make sure it wasn’t rigged or anything, the door shot open.

“Hello there.” A woman greeted as she blocked the scythe with a suitcase. “Just on time. I was hoping to have a few words with you, if you don’t mind?”

Qrow really wasn’t going to take his chances entertaining this woman, so he figured that the best course of action was flying past her as a bird, which he did. Though, he didn’t get far. He flew straight into another suitcase and fell limp to the ground.

“Thank you Accord.”

“You’re welcome Accord.” cordially replied Accord. She walked over to pick up the knocked out bird, and took measurements and notes as she walked to her destination.

When Qrow awoke, a different woman was in front of him. She was eating some fries, sitting on her comfortable looking bed. She had off white hair, and silver eyes. Qrow shifted back into human form.

“Yonah?”

“Oh Qrow! It is you!” she shouted as she jumped up and pulled him in for a hug. “I almost didn’t believe Accord when she said you’d be here. I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m glad you remembered me too.”

“I’m glad you’re alright too. Couldn’t forget someone like you if I tried. But, uh, mind filling me in on all this?” he requested as she released him from the embrace.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah! I guess Accord didn’t have time to huh? Come and walk with me, and I’ll give you the basics.” she said as she picked up her sword, one with a phoenix motif, and then her fries.

“Still hooked onto those fries, huh?” he asked. He was glad to see a familiar face. It put him at ease. That, and he did not feel or sense any danger in this place. It felt safe. That was a good sign.

“Mmhm.” she said with a mouth full of fries before swallowing them. “I always remembered how to cook them how you taught me. In fact, because of you, this place has fries now.”

Qrow lightly laughed. It was an odd honor to have, but an honor nonetheless.

“So, what exactly is this place?” he asked, still smiling.

“This, is the base of the organization known as The Dragon Guard. Though, dragons are practically extinct in most timelines now. But, we do have Mikey. He’s funny. But anyways, our goal is to defeat god. His goal is to destroy humanity and our creation.”

“And naturally, you guys aren’t gonna let that slide, right?” Qrow stated. Yonah eagerly nodded.

“Yup! I was recruited a couple years ago. Though technically, its been millenia since then.” she said as if it were no big deal. Qrow looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “It’s actually not that complicated if you want me to explain it.”

“I’m good. My head hurts enough as is.” he complained as he rubbed it.

“Yeah… Accord said that might happen.” Qrow looked at her curiously, almost concerned.

“Did you call for me?” they heard a voice say from behind. He jumped up with a yelp in shock.

“On time, as always. How are you Accord? Come across anything that needs some of my special attention?” Yonah casually asked.

“I’m good, as always.” Accord smiled. “Though, there have been reports of another dangerous interloper. This one wields elemental magic and a bunch of swords. But, I doubt you’ll need to take care of her. She’s in one of the timelines where the Seeds of Destruction activate the goddess.” Qrow wondered what the hell any of that meant.

“Another moment of rest for me then, I guess.” she sighed. “Hey, do we have time to spar real quick?” she asked Accord, who thought for a quick moment.

“Sure. I’ll be sure to set up an arena for you.”

“Thank you Accord. Alright, follow me!” she said as she excitedly led Qrow to what he assumed would be the training area.

They passed many different places on their way. There was a large mess hall, a weapons room Qrow would have to see if he could look at later, a magical test center, and he even saw Mikey. Apparently, the white dragon loved his fries, which he confirmed Yonah made perfectly just as he did. When they finally reached the training room, he was out of breath.

“Here,” she said as she pulled out a seat, “rest for a moment. Do you think you could watch my swordsmanship and critique it? Kainé said you were an amazing teacher.” Her face betrayed her cheerful voice, as a hint of sadness could be seen.

“That, I am. So show me what you’ve got.”

After watching her go toe to toe with an android in black, he could say he was very impressed. Her attacks were quick and precise. Additionally, some damage she took seemed to be shrugged off by her own attacks, as indicated by the health bars on display. As the battle ended with Yonah as the victor, he proudly made her way over to Qrow.

“So, what do you think?” she huffed excitedly.

“I’d say you’re even better than me.” he answered honestly. Time had been kind to her. He hoped it would stay that way. She deserved it.

“Really, you think so?” she asked. Qrow nodded his head to reaffirm. She squealed in joy. “I’m so glad you think so! It means so much to me!” she yanked him in for another hug. It was rough, but he didn’t mind too much.

Just then, they heard the door open, Accord walking in.

“Oh, you’re here early, er, on time, actually. I guess it just feels early.” Yonah said. Sadly.

“Your time’s almost up. The magic that brought you here is strong. We were lucky enough to even be able to intercept it.” Accord neutrally explained. “You know, you’re a singularity. Of sorts.”

“You’re someone who causes timelines to branch and split off. You even made a timeline that survived.” Yonah said happily.

“Yeah, an incredible feat. If I were you though, I wouldn’t feel bad about the ones that didn’t survive. Those ones were gonna fail regardless. But man, you did give me a lot of work, not that I mind though. It provided some nice data. That brings me to this: I’ve temporarily sealed off a majority of your memories from during your time away from your world. You have a choice. You can choose to remember or not. It will be a lot to take in, and you’ll have a nasty headache for a bit. So. what’s your choice, avian interloper?”

“I…” he wasn’t so sure. He had a bad feeling about this. But, something compelled him to choose to remember. It felt like he had a duty to remember. It felt somebody was convincing him it was the right choice. “I want to remember.”

“As you will.” Accord answered, pulling out her large phone. “Alright. Initiate code. MEM-3313.”

She was right when she said the headache would be nasty. But, the memories were worse. So many things made sense, and it was all saddening and terrifying. But, mixed in there, were some good memories, ones people wouldn’t trade for the world. There was little Yonah, so much like Ruby to him. Her, Nier, Kainé, Emil, Halua, Weiss, and Rubrum, were a part of many wonderful memories, memories of a world where he felt normal, even if just for a moment. And there they were, in a few terrible memories too, reminding him of his fears and hatred.

“We have another choice for you. Do you wish to keep your memories?” Accorded asked. “Regardless, I already have the important ones recorded, so don’t let us influence your choice.”

Those memories worth more than the world, weren’t worth more than all the suffering and sadness and betrayal he had witnessed so many times. He could barely handle it.

“Take them… take them all…”

“Are you sure?” Yonah asked this time.

“Kid… I’m sorry. I’m not that strong of a person.”

“You are a strong person, Mister Qrow, just not that kind of strong, and that’s alright.” she sat down to take a seat next to him. “The world is a pretty terrible place. And we can all only take so much. I don’t blame you, okay? Accord, transfer them to me.” Qrow looked at her in shock.

“You’re a good man Qrow. Don’t forget that. I know that someday, you’ll be stronger for the people who need you. I believe in you. You have someone who believes in you. Don’t forget that, okay? You have someone who believes in you.”

Qrow wasn’t sure what to say as she tearfully pulled him in for one last hug. He just noticed that he was crying too. He began to feel sleepy.

“Thank you for so many good memories, Qrow. You helped make those days with my brother and friends possible. …Thank you, and goodbye…”

“Goodbye. . .”

You have someone who believes in you.