#and to see how somber and reserved phoenix really is

[bloodofgrapes]

I think more people should go back and either replay or rewatch (.... or forbid, play or watch them for the first time) aa1, even if it's literally only case 1

fanon phoenix is so completely disconnected from the actual character that at this point they basically share a wacky hairstyle and a name to me. In the actual games, Phoenix is almost always depicted as the "straight man", even in comparison to Edgeworth: he's somber, dry, sarcastic, and often very tired of shenanigans and bullshit. He's a very ordinary "everyman", and that's like 80% of his appeal to me, tbh. It's not to say that he can't be silly or nonserious, but we have a unique look at the inside of his head and all the things he COULD say, but most likely does not.

He goes on to become a literal world renowned defense attorney, and so many people want to boil him down to a silly stupid little rabbit of a guy when he's anything but

[netraptor]

Building the Revelry

It was the first Revelry after the terrible Red War. The Vanguard had asked me to bring the celebration to the Guardians after the popularity of the Dawning. And really, those poor Guardians could use some cheering up. Seems like all they do is worry about power and death. So I thought, why not encourage them to celebrate life for a change? I always meet so many interesting folk in the Tower. Guardians of all sorts, intense, or light-hearted, or somber. But the poor boy who caught my attention, I didn't even know he was a Guardian at first. I'd been growing flowers in tubs for two months in preparation for the Revelry. While the Vanguard were happy to transmat everything to the Tower for me, and even set them more or less in place, there were many small adjustments I wished to make. But the big tubs weighed more than I do. There I was, one human woman in a sea of Guardians, too embarrassed to ask for help. I was tugging at one tub, trying to rotate it, when someone said, "Need help, ma'am?" I turned to see a friendly-looking young man standing there in simple pants and a short tunic. His skin was a nice deep brown color, and his smile was very white. No ghost in sight. He also wasn't much taller than me. "Yes, sir," I said, straightening my aching back. "I need this tub moved about two feet that way." He grabbed the tub and dragged it into position with easy strength. Then he straightened, dusting off his hands. "What else?" "I'm sure you're very busy," I said apologetically. "You don't need to waste time arranging decorations for an old woman." His smile returned, brighter than ever. "My whole afternoon is free, ma'am." He held out a hand. "I'm Jayesh." "Eva Levante," I replied, shaking his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Jayesh. I have a lot to do, and an assistant would be just the ticket."

He flexed one arm and laughed. "An assistant with muscle! Just tell me what to do." We worked the rest of the afternoon, arranging tubs, setting up banners and shades, placing flower arrangements just so. We chatted as we worked. I learned that Jayesh was a Guardian and had just had his first resurrection day. "The Revelry will be like my own big party," he said, admiring a bunch of columbines. "So much color and fun." "And games," I added. "Plenty of things to do with your friends." He nodded and his smile faded. He fingered a snapdragon, opening and closing the petals like little jaws. I almost asked, Don't you have any friends? But I caught myself. Even nice boys like this one were sometimes very alone. There was probably a reason he was spending a free afternoon moving heavy flower tubs for a stranger. "What's this one called?" he asked, touching a foxglove. "They're like towers of little bells." "Foxglove," I told him. "And these, here, are pansies. They come in so many different colors." I educated him on the art of botany for a while. He seemed to forget his reserve, and was genuinely interested in the various flowers. "What's this one?" he asked. "They look like little hearts." "Bleeding heart," I said. "See, this bit on the bottom looks like a droplet." He snatched his hand away as if the flower had burned him. "Oh," he murmured. "That's terrible." "It's only a flower," I hastened to reassure him. That guarded look had returned, extinguishing his smile, and even the brightness in his eyes. What's wrong? I thought. Who hurt you? I don't like to pry into people's private lives. I had no intention of asking young Jayesh what burden he carried. We were merely partners in decorating, nothing more. And besides, Guardians often worried about things so horrible I could barely grasp them. No, I wouldn't ask him to confide in me. But I did wonder where his ghost had gone. Around mid afternoon, I had to sit and rest. Jayesh fetched us each a cup of iced tea, and we sat in a corner of the Tower walk, half-hidden by flowers and a banner. We sat looking out over the Last City, to the Traveler in the sky. Jayesh smiled a little and gestured to it. "It's really something, isn't it?" "Yes," I replied. "Shame it's so broken, now. Those Red Legion did a number on it." He nodded and sipped his tea. "I talk to it, sometimes. Kind of ... in thought pictures. It'll answer me, sometimes, too." He gave me a sideways look and laughed in a shamefaced way. "But you probably think I'm crazy." "No," I told him softly. "I don't." He gave me another look, guarded, but hopeful. "I'm not a Guardian," I told him, "but I've watched them for years. Your connection with the Traveler is something magical. If you can speak to it, why, that makes you special." "Or a target," he muttered. An unpleasant memory trickled into my head just then--an article I had read on the news networks after the war. A Guardian had climbed into the Traveler and been trapped inside the Red Legion's cage. He claimed to have spent the entire war arguing with the Traveler on behalf of all Guardians. But many experts said that he was lying, insane, or both. What had his name been? Something with a J. Jayesh. Suddenly I understood him too well and could barely look at him. No wonder he spent his free afternoon helping me. He had no one else. What a lonely life, being so young in this harsh world of ours, and already singled out for hatred and abuse. He probably had no idea of the political currents that flowed through the Last City. Certain circles would view him as a cancer to be eradicated. I wanted to give him a hug. But I wasn't sure how he'd take it, so I didn't move. Instead, I asked softly, "Is your ghost all right?" Jayesh's smile was so brittle, I feared it might crack into tears. "Oh. Yes. He's fine. We're fine." Something must be wrong with his ghost. Oh dear, I hadn't meant to dig into his personal matters. I busied myself with my tea and tried to think of a different topic. "I suppose you follow the Crucible. Who do you think will be the next champion?" Jayesh didn't answer. Instead, he cupped his hands together and whispered into them. His ghost appeared in a swirl of blue sparkles. His ghost had no shell. Only a little core with a blue eye, the metal blackened and oxidized from heat. "Oh," I exclaimed. "You poor little thing." The ghost blinked up at its Guardian, then glared at me. He flew toward me, so aggressive that I confess I flinched. "My Guardian has been through hell," the ghost snarled. "Nobody is going to hurt him anymore. Get it?" "He doesn't have to worry about me," I told the ghost. "I understand." The ghost backed away a little. "You do?" I nodded. "I think he needs a hug." The ghost studied me a moment. "I think he does, too." So I gave Jayesh a nice warm hug. Tears lurked in his eyes for several minutes afterward. "I have a new shell on order for him," he said, indicating his naked ghost. "His name is Phoenix, so his shell has to be red and yellow. But it won't be in until next week." I looked at the ghost's scorched core. Jayesh was explaining without explaining, trying to assure me that his life wasn't as bad as it appeared. Neither he nor his ghost breathed a word about where the old shell had gone, or why Phoenix's core was burned. And I didn't want to know. Those tears in his eyes had told me enough. When we resumed work, Jayesh worked furiously, as if trying to prove his worth to me. We had the Tower decorations finished by sunset, and what decorations they were. The Tower was transformed, color and life everywhere. It looked like someone was holding a huge wedding. Several other Guardians I knew found me and insisted on buying me dinner. I tried to ask Jayesh to join us, but he had already slipped away into the twilight. I saw him at a distance the next day, sitting on an upper balcony and cleaning a rifle. He looked very alone. But as I watched, a girl in a pretty warlock robe climbed up and sat beside him, talking cheerfully. She'd made a wreath of flowers for her hair, and her ghost wore one, too. Jayesh cheered up immensely. This eased my heart considerably. The boy wasn't entirely alone. At least one other Guardian liked him. And if I was any judge of body language, that girl was very, very fond of Jayesh.

[autumnspyre]

Tirisfalen

Part 1

Part 2

"-Pyresong."

Weleria blinked her eyes, snapping out of her thoughts like a trance. These absent episodes had grown so frequent that the real world felt more like a dream than anything she thought about. Her eyes focused on the crowd before her. Knights lined the front with a host of civilians behind them, all watching solemnly beneath the red and black banners which spanned between lamp posts outside the Hall of Blood.

"For commitment to duty," a flat voice recited with a brief pause, "in the face of overwhelming odds..."

Her gaze drifted over to Master Heartsfire, a box of medals and commendations in her hands. Shifting her periphery slightly further, she glanced briefly down the row of knights recieving honors; a row of deep black dress uniforms with a crimson sash and golden epaulets.

"...We award the Silver Crest of Valor," the Master continued on, a medal in hand bearing a silver phoenix. A quiet round of applause rose from the crowd, the whole city seeming to have a muted presence. The Master pinned the medal to Weleria's uniform jacket, glancing briefly to the arm in a sling over her chest. Weleria's eyes followed, a dull pain shooting up her arm from where her left hand had once been. Their eyes finally met as both Blood Knights raised their heads.

"Welcome home, soldier," Heartsfire murmured, placing a fist to her chest in salute. Weleria followed suit, snapping to attention with right hand clenched into a tight fist pounding against her chest. It sent another wave of pain through her brittle ribs, but her face remained stoic. A brief glance of sympathy was all the elder knight gave before the turned to march back down the stage and to the other side of the podium.

"To Master Eldoren Emberdawn," Heartsfire continued, "for commitment to duty in the face of overwhelming odds and for brave leadership on the field of battle... we posthumously award the Golden Crest of Valor and the Horde Commendation of Heroism."

Weleria's eyes drifted across the somber crowd. Faces were hard for her to pick out, as all features seemed to blur into one another, leaving only a vague brush stroke of fleshy colors dotted with green eyes all about.

"-Adept Falenei Starspire..."

She must have spaced out again.

"For bravery and sacrifice to ensure the welbeing of fellow soldiers, we posthumously award the Golden Crest of Valor, the Horde Commendation of Heroism, and the Mark of Blood."

Weleria lowered her head faintly, movement catching her attention in her periphery as a handful of Blood Knights gave a formal salute. None of the higher officers seemed to scold them for moving out of line.

"With that, we close the awards ceremony and will now say our final farewells to the departed. Recipients, dismissed."

The line came to attention, turning one by one to march down the stage with Weleria last. She slowed as she passed the podium. Where the living knights had been lined on one side of it, the other side was reserved for the row of pyres. Three beds of tinder sat with a banner resting over each humanoid figure. On top of each banner was a row of medals and awards with the posthumous commendations above them. She stopped at the foot of the first pyre, looking over the medals sat atop the banner to see if it was really him. Surely enough, the golden phoenix and Horde insignia were there above all the honors he earned in life. Weleria heaved put a heavy sigh and placed a hand briefly on the shape of his boot before moving on to the stage exit.

"Our people have endured much in the recent years..." the Master Knight began, speaking from her podium. "The betayal of our former Prince served to divide us. The Purge of Dalaran sought to destroy us... The long war against the Burning Legion tested us."

Weleria watched the others join the line of knights at the front of the crowd, though Weleria stood apart from them, glancing to one of the Honor Guards as if he were the one to grant permission.

"Yet we stand, unconquered and united as one people under the Horde. A Horde we must fight to protect... and a people for which we will lay down our lives in service."

A simple nod was all she needed, not permission but simply understanding. She made her way quietly toward the back of the crowd, drawing eyes from some of the civilians she passed but daring not to look at them in return.

"Though we reel from this loss, we do so with the knowledge that the dawn will come and pierce the darkness. While we commit these brave souls to the ashes, we do so in the hopes that new heroes will rise where they once stood."

Weleria found a bit of shade to watch from just under the rise where the smiths normally worked. The forges were cooled and the anvils silenced on the one day on which the whole city would mourn.

"Eternal Sun guide us all," Heartsfire said in closing. "Anar'alah belore."

She stepped down from her podium as a priestess made her way onto the stage followed by a torchbearer. She waved about an incense burner as she went, speaking a quiet prayer over each pyre, the torchbearer lighting each one behind her.

"So..." a familiar voice rang, "They really cut it off, huh?"

Weleria lifted her head slowly with a glance to her right. Master Emberdawn's gaze was fixed directly on the bandaged stub of her left arm.

"Oh. Yeah..." she sighed. "They said, uh... That even with magical healing, the bones would never set properly. It'd just be more pain and infection to keep it."

She offered a shrug as her head turned downward, not wanting to make eye contact.

"Yeah, well... It's good that you still went up there. No one wants to he seen healing. It feels weak... but it's something we all have go through."

The elder knight's voice was soothing to her ears, though she couldn't quite bring herself to take pride in his words.

"Especially the younger recruits, you know?" he chuckled. "Sometimes it seems the illusion of invulnerability is the only thing that keeps them going. It's not easy to accept that we can still bleed... and we can die."

She kept her head low, glancing off to the side as if he give him a hint, daring not to say anything, lest she have to admit more to herself than she already had.

"Come on, you're stronger than thi-"

"Why do you always talk like that?" She interjected, turning to face him wth a harsh glower. He shifted his shoulders back.

"Talk like what?" he replied boldly, "In a way that makes you look at yourself?"

Her lips parted slightly, taken aback by the proclamation and left in a stunned silence. She lowered her head again, taking a moment to think over her response.

"Yeah..." she whispered after but a brief moment. "Yeah, well, maybe one day, I'll have all the answers like you do."

It came out disingenuous, even slightly petulant, as if resentful of the certainty in his voice.

"I've never had all the answers," he stated plainly. "...But it's nice to know I haven't lost my touch."

She couldn't help it. A faint smile cracked on her lips, dry skin splitting sorely with the sudden movement as a quiet snort escaped her nose in place of any real laughter. It was brief, however, fading away as she lifted her head to look back at the dispersing crowd.

"What do we do now?" she asked, still believing he very well might just know everything.

"I don't know, Pyresong. What are you going to do?"

She met his gaze once more with brows knit together in frustration.

"What do you expect from me?"

Once more, her tone betrayed the child within, still stabbing desperately in the dark for a chance to spite a figure of some authority. He simply lowered his head with a condescending gaze.

"What I expect, Weleria... is for you to make the most of the chance you've been given," he responded in turn. His gentle demeanor quickly disarmed her standoffishness, if only for a moment.

"The Alliance is trampling on our doorstep. I don't know if I'll be able to hold a spear or ride a horse again. So, you'll forgive me, if I'm not feeling terribly lucky!"

"Well, it sounds like you already know what to do, then," he stated as a matter of fact. It caught her off guard again, but she maintenained eye contact, refusing to back down even as he leaned in with a lowered voice.

"What we've always done," he murmured. "Protect what matters most."

Her eyes turned down, finally too ashamed to keep up the staring contest. This wasn't how these conversations usually went.

"I'm scared," she whispered after a long moment of silence.

"I know," he replied softly.

She closed her eyes, breathing out a sigh. Time felt short, even urgent, but she couldn't quite get it out. She couldn't put it into words.

"Why didn-" she cut herself off, turning her head only to find empty space beside her. She blinked her eyes, and the dreamlike sensation came rolling over her followed by the sense of loss she'd been running from. It placed a great pressure on her aching ribs and made another phantom pain tingle in her absent hand.

"Fucking drugs..." she whispered to herself, shaking her head.

[onlypreciousloves]

mitt hjärta (my heart) - pt. 1

Pairing: Kim “Reignover” Yeujin, Martin “Rekkles” Larsson

Characters: Kim “Reignover” Yeujin, Kayli “TrykE” Wang, Martin “Rekkles” Larsson (future chapter, not this one yet, but he’s mentioned)

Yeujin really isn't good at keeping his emotions and feelings straight. Plus, he's not very good with labels. He's made numerous mistakes, but the real question is: can he fix himself before trying to fix everything else?

Martin's a good guy, so why doesn't anything ever seem to go his way? Just when he thinks may never have the chance to be right he gets a call. An innocent prank provides him with something he's waited for but never thought he'd ever get.

A/N: This is really just the introduction to the actually piece...but I hope you lovelies enjoy it! And thank you to @aeonwing for beta-ing ♡

pt. 1 - Irony and Fragility

After the disappointing loss against Cloud9, Kayli chose to spend the night at Liquid’s gaming house instead of with her own teammates on Flyquest. Sure, Flyquest had lost to Phoenix 1 and were starting to lose their reputation as the undefeated, power team of this split, but all their players were hardened veterans and it wasn’t like she had played anyway. She’s been Flyquest’s substitute Jungler ever since a small scandal in AD Kill’s organization caught the media’s attention during the off-season. After much discussion, Kayli and her teammates were leased out to other teams for the Spring Split of 2017.

 When she first received an offer to play with the team formerly known as Cloud9’s Challenger team, she was at a complete loss for words. Ever since she interacted with them at the occasional LCS parties, she’s loved An and Hai, so she had no reservations in accepting the offer, even if it wasn’t a starting position. However, even by Week 7, she still hadn’t been put in. She didn’t hate being out of the spotlight, in fact she rather enjoyed supporting her teammates from backstage – as strange as that sounded.

 Unlike Flyquest, Team Liquid wasn’t faring so well after they started the season with a nice 2-0 win against Counter Logic Gaming. Liquid’s loss had left them more devastated than Flyquest would have been after any loss.

 Not like Liquid wasn’t already on a losing streak. Not like they hadn’t just signed the most popular AD Carry in NA for the rest of the split. Not like they hadn’t moved Gwangjin to the Mid-lane to hopefully improve their roster. Not like they hadn’t signed Adrian as a substitute Support with only 3 weeks left of the Spring Split. Steve wasn’t kidding when he said he would do anything to push the team into playoff contention.

 Well, Kayli hadn’t expected him to take his statement lightly. He had done everything in his power.

 Some people commented on how Liquid’s new roster for the upcoming, final 3 weeks looked great on paper. Three out of the five players had experienced the pressure and emotional rollercoaster that came with competing at Worlds. Naturally, many expected the team to show up in this split before the new additions, and even more so once “Doublelift” temporarily joined the roster. What could go wrong with so many renowned, skilled players?  Apparently, Peter getting executed by Red Buff on his first game back into the professional spotlight. And that was only one example.

 With only one day of practice as a new team, even against a Worlds-class team like Cloud 9, the loss was more emotionally and physically draining than one would expect.

 Everyone, including the players themselves, had high expectations for Liquid’s roster. When they fell short of said expectations, their pride was shattered and that feeling of defeat – which came from everyone questioning whether they were still fit to play in the professional scene – drowned them in self-loathing and excessive criticisms. Criticism from within rather than without. No one had the energy to toss blame at each other or even attempt at giving each other constructive opinions after that game.

 There could’ve been more disasters, but losing 2-0 in their first set as a nominal monster team was a nightmare.

 Peter was more upbeat than Kayli had been expecting when she arrived at the house. He didn’t seem too upset about the loss, in fact, he seemed pretty optimistic for all the future games to come. Although that was reassuring, the somber mood that hung over everyone else’s heads could still bring anyone’s mood down.

 “Just…uh, you can put down your stuff in my room. I’ll be right back in a few minutes,” Yeujin mumbled in heavy Korean as he led her through the house towards his room. She passed by Samson in the kitchen, and the two of them shared a somewhat humorless smile. Kayli was no stranger to Team Liquid, but unlike the past few splits, she hasn’t found any time this split to spend time with her Jungling mentor and his new teammates.

 “Just…” Yeujin caught his best friend’s eyes for a brief moment as he ran his fingers through his dark-colored locks. He let out an exasperated sigh as he placed his phone in the palm of her hand, “you know,” and left the room without another word, leaving a saddened Kayli right inside the doorway with a small duffle bag on her shoulder.

 She missed seeing the bright smile on her fellow Jungler’s face back when he played on Fnatic in 2015, and the almost equally as vibrant smile when he played with Immortals last year. He started on Team Liquid with a nice smile, despite a rather confusing – or rather, upsetting – conversation over the phone with Kyungho in mid-January. Kayli knew very little of the context of the phone call, but she knew what it resulted in. A so-called “break.”

 She could only imagine how heartbreaking it must’ve been for Yeujin.

 Kayli flopped down onto Yeujin’s bed, curling up on her side. One of the phones in her hand vibrated softly, lighting up the screen with a text.

 ‘Are you okay, hyeong?’ was the simple message from a familiar Top laner. It took her a minute to remember that it was only the afternoon in Korea where ‘Huni’ was. Kayli effortlessly unlocked the phone to view the message. It must’ve been out of habit, since the notification gave her all the information she had needed.

 Once unlocked, what caught her attention in Yeujin’s recent messages wasn’t Seunghoon’s text, but an unread text from someone who she hadn’t heard from in what seemed like forever.

 She definitely hadn’t been epecting the message from an old friend. Sure, he was her friend too, but he was an especially close one of Yeujin’s.

 ‘Rekkles.’

 Martin Larsson was the last person Kayli expected to text Yeujin, since they hadn’t kept much contact since season 5. Yeujin, despite sharing pretty much everything with Kayli, had kept the reasons for how he and Martin lost contact to himself. She never pushed at it, because even though it brought him down a little bit, it didn’t seem to affect his daily life too much. Maybe it was Seunghoon’s presence that anchored him, and now that that was gone Yeujin had more worries and unnecessary thoughts on his mind to hold himself comfortably. Either way, it would be a blatant lie for her to say she wasn’t curious about the two of them, but she respected Yeujin’s privacy enough not to poke at it.

 The click of the bedroom door closing snapped the Jungler out of her reverie. She rolled her body to face the door and her best friend, all while still lying on her side.

 The young Korean had changed into a simple outfit that consisted of plain gray shorts and one of his old Fnatic t-shirts (as eerily coincidental as that seemed). His towel was draped around the back of his neck, and his short dark hair was damply ruffled in a way that Kayli was sure only Yeujin could pull off as attractive.

 Flyquest’s substitute Jungler slowly sat up, running her lithe fingers through her reddish gold hair to get it out of her face. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped short when she realized she had no idea how to approach what might be a sensitive subject.

 The text message from Martin implied that there was something more than just a really close friendship between them in his time at Fnatic. Not that Kayli hadn’t inferred that from how Yeujin acted when anyone so subtly mentioned him. If he had refused to talk about ‘Rekkles’ for the past two years and visibly flinched when the Swedish AD Carry was mentioned shortly after his departure from Fnatic, how would he react now? Kayli wasn’t sure what she’d do if she asked and he answered her with complete silence for the rest of her stay. Would it create a rift between the two of them just as bringing up Hyukkyu or Seohaeng to Kyungho had done to the two of them? Yeujin had a bad habit of putting too much distance between him and others when he wanted to avoid a subject. Sure, avoiding Kayli wouldn’t be as easy as avoiding Kyungho since she wasn’t hundreds of thousands of miles away and they saw each other at the LCS Studio at least once every week, but just the mere idea of a tense atmosphere between each of their encounters felt suffocating to her. She only had him in North America and she knew he leaned on her emotionally just as much as she relied on him.

 Although she wasn’t trying to hide it, Yeujin caught her less than subtle actions and let out a dry chuckle.

 “I’m not made of glass, Kayli,” he hung up his towel and dropped down onto his full-sized bed beside her. It was really out of character for her to think so deeply about something before talking to him. When he crossed his legs on the bed, she naturally laid back down with her head in his lap. She looked up at him through the fiery strands of her dyed hair, realizing that it’s been months since she’s seen his genuinely happy smile. The one that he always wore without needing something to happen to make it appear. She missed it. She missed it so much.

 “That’s not—”

 “Just say it.”

 Kayli felt as though she had offended him just by thinking about how to phrase her question. Maybe she had overthought it too much. He was a lot stronger – mentally and physically – than many people gave him credit for. “Jin…” an attempt at a soft whine turned into a squeak of discomfort.

 Her fellow Jungler just looked at her expectantly.

 “Did you know… see… the message?” when a look of confusion flashed across his features, she quickly added, “from…Martin?”

 The expression on his face became even more unreadable. Kayli hated this. It’s been about a month and a half since she became unable to naturally read her best friend, and it pained her. Was it because she spent a lot more time at her team’s house rather than sleeping over at Yeujin’s? Was it because she didn’t make a big enough effort to go out and see him? Was it because she didn’t try to comfort him more after his earlier losses? She couldn’t feel anymore useless as his best friend. Even just the idea that she couldn’t figure out how to fix Yeujin’s mood bothered her more than the idea that she might not play on stage for the rest of the split. Scratch that, she couldn’t care any less about being on stage. It bothered her more than the time when she fought with Yeujin about Kyungho and was given the cold shoulder for about a month.

 When Yeujin didn’t answer after a long minute, she sat up and shook her head gently. “Never mind. Forget that I asked,” she tried to wave the tense air away with her hand. “Seunghoon sent you a text while you were in the shower, by the way.” She held her hand out with his phone and fell back down once he slowly took the phone back.

 Kayli absolutely hated the silence that followed for the next few moments. It felt like an eternity before he laid down in front of her, but it was less than a minute before he spoke in a hushed whisper. She caught the numerous emotions that passed his face but some were easier to identify than others: confusion, hurt, sadness, frustration. But, most importantly, the one that stayed made her chest clench in pain. Heartbreak.

 “I guess I never really told you…” his lithe fingers reached over and played with the soft curls of her silky hair. Despite changing the color so many times, Kayli’s hair still felt soft and feathery to the touch. Yeujin curled up closer to her body just like he has done countless times since they were toddlers. The air of subtle hostility she had felt when he accused her of underestimating his mental strength had completely disappeared. It was as if it never existed as he squeezed his eyes shut and reached out to hug his anchor closer to his body. The only thing left was heartbreak as Kayli heard him take shallow breaths in an attempt to stall the inevitable tears. Despite the size of his bed, with the two of them curled up so closely, the Junglers took up less than half of it.

 “I messed up, Kayli. I messed up so bad,” he mumbled in Korean as she raised her hand to reassuringly brush her fingers through Yeujin’s hair as he tucked himself into her smaller body. Kayli caught the shaking of his shoulders as she gave him a tight hug for comfort and encouragement.

 He looked like he just wanted to cry but the tears refused to fall. She knew he wanted disappear, judging by the look in his eyes when he opened them to stare back at her own dark orbs.

 “I want to go back,” Yeujin’s voice broke as he spoke in a hushed tone with fractured Korean. “Turn back time. To go back and fix it. Everything.”

~pt. 2~

[mask-ed]

a lil fic about vylad Suffering™

Fairytales didn't happen often and not many people got to experience them. Garroth and Aphmau, despite everything they had been put through in their short lives, were two of those lucky few. They loved each other, truly, and nothing would ever change that.

Not even when Garroth had to inevitably return to O'khasis to take his place as lord after the death of his father. Aphmau went with him and Vylad followed. Garte might have not treated him well in his life, but he was there for his brother's support, not for their father.

Aphmau had only been to O'khasis a few times, but as Garroth's wife, she stayed in the castle where he and Vylad had been born. Vylad couldn't bear to sleep in his old bedroom so he slept on a sofa in one of the parlors.

It was a cold place, finely decorated and royal, but empty. Garte had been the only permanent resident and most of the workers had been let go many years ago when the heirs of O'khasis had disappeared, one by one. Their mother was long dead.

Garroth was aware he would have to move here. No matter if his wife was the lord of her village, his own was more prominent and took precedence over hers. He couldn't very well rule O'khasis from a million miles away.

Vylad said he would help. He was always willing to help. In that moment of intimacy with his brother, Garroth had almost cried, his voice shaking when he hugged him and thanked him.

It wouldn't be easy on Aphmau either; Vylad had already taken that into consideration. She couldn't live here with Garroth because of the Phoenix Alliance; she had to go home. This could detrimental, seeing as they had only been married for a short time.

And Vylad couldn't be in two places as once. Garroth and Aphmau were the only people he loved that were still of this world, but he couldn't be there for both of them. 

Garroth had told him to take care of Aphmau when they went home; he would be fine and he would write to them.

This was 6 months ago.

Aphmau took time to visit O'khasis a few times here and there, but it was hard. Vylad had moved in with her, almost taking his brother's place because the woman wouldn't eat or sleep like she was supposed to if she was busy. He couldn't bear to see her in poor health.

Along with her husband's new position came the stress of being a lord's wife. The pressure to abandon her lordship to solely be his partner, to move to O'khasis, to have children. That was possibly the worst and the most important.

She didn't like talking about it with Vylad and he could respect that; that was a very intimate subject that should be reserved for her and Garroth, but Garroth wasn't there and Vylad was. Sometimes she couldn't help, but talk about things she really shouldn't just because Vylad would listen and not judge.

About 2 months after her most recent trip to O'khasis, she was violently sick while tending to the garden outside one morning. Vylad had put her to bed and catered to her until she felt better, but looking back, he should have seen what it was. He was stupid not to realize.

Vylad was the first she told. She was pregnant with Garroth's child, about 3 months along when she finally confessed. All the illness and the slight pudge to her abdomen finally made sense.

'When did you find out?' he was sitting on the sofa inside their shared house, hands folded politely over his lap, but his expression really couldn't be described as happy.

"I...kind of expected it. We tried. People in O'khasis were starting rumors I was unable to have children." Aphmau didn't look distraught, just despondent, almost ashamed of herself for having given into the pressure of the people her husband now ruled over. 

A hand was resting on her stomach protectively. No matter the circumstances that came about their child being conceived, Vylad always assumed one day they would have children and they would love them with all their might. He just thought preparing himself for this for so long would mean he wouldn't be upset.

'Garroth doesn't know?'

"No. I think writing him about it would be a bit rude. I'll leave for O'Khasis in a few days." She paused, studying Vylad's face for a moment, in which he turned his head, suddenly intimidated. "Vylad. Are you alright?"

'I'm perfectly fine.'

"You look...sad." She had always had a way of reading people, even if sometimes she was painfully oblivious. She could always see when someone was upset.

'I'm fine. I'll accompany you to O'khasis. It'll be nice to see Garroth again and see his reaction.' He stood abruptly and went into the bedroom, hoping packing would get his mind off such things he shouldn't be thinking about. But Aphmau persisted and followed him.

"Vylad, I've always been honest with you. Don't you think I deserve honesty from you?" It didn't sound so demanding as it might have been. She stood in the doorway awkwardly, watching Vylad pull a bag out from under his bed. He stopped when she spoke and leaned against the bed, avoiding her gaze.

'...Aphmau, it's nothing. I'm happy for you and my brother. That is entirely honest.'

"I can tell that. But there's something else," the woman stepped into the room and sat at the foot of the bed, glancing at him cautiously. "You let me vent to you. So vent to me."

He wanted to badly to tell her no, to find some excuse to leave the room and get away from all of this, but he couldn't, his mind wasn't working. He had kept his feelings to himself for so long, it was instinctual, he didn't know how to tell her. He felt like his chest would explode at this rate.

The man finally raised his head, staring into the auburn eyes peering at him from the end of the bed. He stepped over and sat beside her.

'Do you know why I ran from you?' he asked. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Ran from me?"

'All those years ago in the forest. And when I left Levin at your doorstep that night.' He felt like he was shaking, but his hands were steady. Aphmau was quiet for a moment, considering what he meant.

"I figured you didn't want Garroth to find out you were still alive. Not yet anyway."

'You're not entirely wrong.' He turned his head to look at the wall, eyes heavy. 'But that wasn't the main reason. I was scared of...seeing you. Scared of speaking to you.'

"But...why?" Brushing her black hair back, she only looked more confused, "I chased you that day because I wanted to talk to you. I mean...we're friends now. I don't see why it would have been different then."

She was oblivious. Just as she had always been all those years Garroth tried to win her affection. She wasn't too good at picking up on those types of things, it seemed.

Vylad drew in a slow, somber breath, fists clenched at his sides for a moment. 'That had been the first time I saw you. You were a stranger, as I was to you, but the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt such...intense emotions.' He shook his head, closing his eyes now. 

'I'm a shadow knight. We're not supposed to feel those feelings. I had been conditioned not to, but I did. I was so confused and scared, I ran away.'

Her eyes softening, the lord's mouth twitched into a frown, realization dawning on her as her shoulders slumped down. He had...loved her?

"But you...came back. With Levin. Why?"

'I was in no place to care for a child and at that point, I was already a traitor to the Shadow Lord. If I was discovered, they would have killed him. So I left him with you, the most innocent person I could think of.'

He glanced up at her, trying desperately to judge her expressions. 'I realize now that was selfish, forcing a child on you, but...I suppose it did work out.'

"How can you describe that as selfish? You saved him," her voice was sad, "I... Why..."

'I did what I had to do. I saw Garroth in Phoenix Drop, saw how he looked at you in just the short amount of time you had been there.' Vylad stood up, feeling so anxious he needed to move around.

'He was helplessly in love with you. I realized then, it wasn't in my future to be your lover. My life's reason was to help defeat the Shadow Lord, not to be your partner. That was my brother's.'

Aphmau had been rendered speechless, staring at him weakly. There wasn't anything she could really say, no way to object that would make it better. After a moment, Vylad gave her a gentle smile.

'But that's alright. I knew you and Garroth would be happy together. I would put my brother's happiness over mine any day. And you...you're Irene. It wasn't meant to be my place. I would never pursue something like that, no matter what my emotions tell me.'

It sounded so depressing. She wanted to tell him his emotions were valid, but this was about herself. And she was now married and pregnant. She couldn't say she ever felt the same for Vylad, but she wanted him to be happy nonetheless.

"I...I don't know what to say," she stuttered.

'That's fine. I suppose it had been long enough that I needed to tell you so there isn't anything between us.'

They sat in silence for a while before Aphmau stood up, eyes conveying her pity.

"You're so good to me, Vylad. I love you, as my friend. And Garroth is lucky to have such an amazing brother. I'm sorry how things have been for you." 

Before Vylad could interject that everything was alright and she had no reason to be sorry, the woman had her arms around him in a tight hug. He hesitated just for a moment before he returned it.

His heart still hurt despite all of his confessions, but he somehow felt lighter. Emotions were ridiculous, he had learned that a long time ago. But Aphmau and Garroth were happy and they would have a child soon. He could be happy for that.