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scolopendress-tag · 4 years ago

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Have some Asra n Muriel disorganized headcanons: animal themed!

Asra's most likely to answer quetzal if you ask for his favourite bird (he had a close up encounter with one his first time in nopal and had never seen a bird like it so it's a special memory), but he also appreciates all others. He also loves dart frogs and his favorite reptile would of course be perfect lavender angel baby fictional fantasy pythons. I'd also see him loving dragonflies as well.

He will see literally any animal generally and always say "they're one of my favourites!", though. It doesn't matter how many times he's said it that day or how many animals he's said it about. It's almost without fail he'll point one out and say it's a favourite.

One of his favorite animals is always the one in front of him Right Now, as a quick reference.

Plus, he loves to point animals out on travels or when out and about Vesuvia, so get used to hearing it!

He may attempt to catch critters occasionally too, or just pick them up, these will be mostly bugs usually. He just likes to cup moths in his hand on occasion and the watch them flutter out and I think he should be allowed to! Or just cradle bugs in his palm and watch them walk around for a bit. If it's a reptile or amphibian somewhere it could get stepped on or dried out or eaten he will still scoop them up and carry them to the brush.

[Cont. after cut]

Nothing he ever handles seems to get too upset or stressed, even when it's an animal that otherwise would. They just seem to be more relaxed if it's Asra who's touching them. Sometimes reptiles just come up to him (or even crawl onto his hand, as a few lizards have,) curiously enough. Though they may still refuse to be touched even then, they're notably not bothered by his presence when for others they'd run away. It's not something Asra's ever noticed to be odd, nor would it be overly noticeable to most people, but it's definitely something you can recognize if you pay attention.

Asra would also love to run on the beach sometimes, namely as a kid, maybe making himself invisible or otherwise undetectable until he's right up on a big flock of seagulls before giving them a hearty boo! And watching them all fly away all giggly. As an adult he may still stir up flocks for fun sometimes, or just to see how pretty it is to watch them all fly at once.

In general he just loves watching birds or bugs or whatever be it fly, always so effortlessly. Maybe he wishes he could fly himself. It certainly would make things easier he would come to think time to time growing up in Vesuvia.

Plus, he likes to collect the feathers that flutter down. Back when he sold masks, they were something he incorporated into them often. Then, too, he would also sit by the river after wearing himself out practicing hydromancy or what not, and a few times dragonflies would perch on him. He'd always gasp n grin all big and goofy when they did.

Muriel doesn't pick favorites really when it comes to animals (barring wolves and bears), but he does mirror Asra's 'one of my favourites' statements by saying "they're one of Asra's favorites," Occasionally.

While Asra's animal encounters or observations are typically brief, Muriel is more than content to just watch animals long periods of time. He can spot or at least know where to find some seriously elusive ones. The only one such animal Asra seems to have luck like that with seems to be foxes.

If you want to see an animal, local to the area around Vesuvia namely, Muriel can probably help you with that, granted he trusts you. This includes dens, hives, and nesting sites of course, things he will stop by occasionally in his forest to check on. His luck/skill in finding these things can't seem to be mimicked by even the most skilled animal trackers, you'd think they were practically just showing themselves to only him.

Muriel is also content to let animals do their thing and not interact with them much. Birds, butterflies and similar may land on him occasionally and he's always enchanted by it though, and will make no move to prevent an animal being on or touching him. Similar to Asra, he will also remove any animals in bad spots and put them somewhere better. He's a bit more effective at this though, as he tends to be looking down anyways, while Asra has probably smooshed a few pillbugs and snails before while doing his own thing- eyes elsewhere.

If Muriel did ever nerf a bug accidentally he would probably feel pretty damn bad, and if it wasn't reduced to a mere smear he would return its poor bug corpse to nature so that it might reclaim it. He'd get over it quick though if he was in a good mood prior, just give him a moment. If he was upset over something else already and he killed one, I could see it even pushing him to tears or rather making it worse if he was already at that point.

Asra would probably be like 'awh.... :( oof, I'm sorry lil guy...' and sweep it into nature if he could, but otherwise he would not be impacted too much.

Asra would purposely kill bugs on a few occasions even, pest bugs namely - like flies or mosquitoes or, of course, plague beetles. He may even instinctively lash out and flatten a bug that simply resembles a plague beetle enough, particularly if something had his anxiety or panic (ptsd trigger from the plague??) going. Otherwise plague beetle resembling beetles he'd be a little unsettled by, or uncomfortable to be around, but not enough to necessarily kill. He'd either move it somewhere else, try to scare it off, or move away from it. Muriel doesn't have many hang ups on plague beetle resembling bugs, though he would probably kill the real deal readily.

Any dead animals not in a wild area (like left in the city or on a road,) Muriel would move as long as it wasn't yknow. Too nasty. Birds that hit windows, starved or sickly scavengers, anything that dropped in a heatwave or was claimed by a flood, things like that, recent deaths. It pains him to see at all, but pains him more to leave them just.... There. Some he may bury, others he may leave out in places where there's animals he know will take it for food.

Injured or sick animals Muriel would try to help best he could, and he's successfully done it a few times. If it's blistering hot he'd also likely leave water out here and there for the animals of the forest, and he may enlist Asra's help with this to replenish water in natural water basins as well in droughts.

Muriel can handle animal death okay, hunting and fishing is a thing he does to some degree, it's just the preventable or senseless ones that hurt, it's worth saying here. It's just sad. He'll be okay after though, unless there's something more nefarious and upsetting at play.

Asra helping unwell/hurt animals would mostly consist of magic healing, but beyond that he wouldn't know what to really do besides bring it to Muriel or any animal experts near him. He doesn't come across these situations too often thankfully, though. Domestic animals he would take in more readily, and would let crash at the shop for a while if he can. If it's a livestock animal he'll ask if Muriel wants to take it in, or even in the case of an ownerless pet animal. If not, he can ask around. See if anyone wants a new dog or cat or... Goat. I just imagine those are the kinds of animals he's most likely to find in need, being in the center of Vesuvia.

Moving on from that....

Animal knowledge!

Asra likely doesn't know a ton about animals outside of ones that feature prominently in magic and myth, he's just good at identifying them and overall tends to appreciate their presence. Identifying animals can make for good pass times on long travels, or if he just sees something particularly neat he may simply want to know what to call it. He also probably learned most the common local Vesuvian species names growing up, probably through reading, though the bulk of his knowledge of the nature he grew up around is probably botanical- foraging can be dangerous! Plus, magic knowledge probably leans more heavily on plants than animals as well.

If Asra can't identify an animal, though, he will simply make up a name for it on the spot. If he finds out it's ID later he will still refer to it as his made up name followed by AKA/sometimes called/locally known as [real name]. He also tends to refer to tons of animals as the infamous, famous, legendary, revered, etc. Regardless of relevance, commonality or obscurity. He just thinks they all deserve such titles, and when has a little flair ever hurt?

"Ah, MC, look! It's an Abramesmerwhymsical Zadithi midnight-billed stilt-wader! Though it's sometimes also known as the famous crab-plover," Kinda shit. He enjoys it.

Muriel doesn't actually know the actual names of a ton of animals species. He knows of a few though, not to mention the Asra-given names that stuck with him. Despite not knowing their names sometimes still, he can tell most all species apart readily, and juveniles from adults, males from females, things like that. He watches animals of the forest regularly and is in tune with the local species life cycles, breeding or rearing seasons, migratory patterns, unique behaviors and everything else. Though his knowledge is probably limited to Vesuvian species, he's able to quickly pick up on other animal's traits and such when outside of Vesuvian territory, and is generally good with animals as is.

He knows what doves/pigeons and owls and vipers and mice and geckos etc are. He may not know that a specific species of such is called like, namaqua doves, omani owls, ocellated mountain vipers, cario spiny mouse, kotschy's middle-toed geckos n shit. It's not like he has NO idea, species names are weird and can be long winded so....

...He just doesn't know that dunnocks aren't actually called stripple-caped tseepers.

But he doesn't need to. <3

If he does learn the real names for them though, he is quite glad and will use the name readily. If you're looking at a Muriel who's in the city more, he will probably read up on this information himself, but otherwise he would of course treasure it if MC told him.

The only reasons he doesn't even know the names to begin with is mostly because the names you'll hear out and about most commonly only cover a fraction of species to start, and everything else youre mostly going to have to study via reading or classes. Neither of those seem to be things a young homeless Muriel would care to pursue lmao.

Annnnd

I forgot what else I was going to add and lost track so, I'll maybe add more later. I'll probably also amend this as I may find I don't agree with my own statements the next day and also I don't proofread so. I hope u enjoyed these feel free to add on or add differing opinions!

#asra #muriel #the arcana game #the arcana #tw animal death

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foxyninjabear · 5 years ago

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A Hacker’s Tale - Chapter 6

[CHAPTER 1] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!: This fic is rated as PG-14+, so read at your own risk! There’s swearsies, suggestive references, and LOTS of blood and gore! Be aware!

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Nix

It took Nix a bit to remember what had happened, at first.

He remembered wandering through the bunker alongside Grey and Angel. That was clear as day. The two had broken him out of his cell, all according to what the byte had planned. Then they were sneaking around the maze of hallways to try and meet up with the others.

The events following that were blurry. At some point, he had ended up all alone and was running blindly through the hallways. He had no clue where he was, or where he was headed. Eventually he had formed so much tunnel vision that he didn’t even notice the flight of stairs in front of him until it was too late. He ended up taking a painful tumble down the steps, before ultimately being knocked out cold as he hit his head at the bottom.

And then he had woken up in the infirmary weaponless and alone, Cub wrapping up his several cuts and injuries with gauze.

Since his recapture, Nix hadn’t seen Grey or Angel. Or anyone else, for that matter. But it made sense. If the others had also been apprehended, having them see each other left in the possibility of another scheme being created.

He didn’t even know how long had it been since he had initially escaped from his cell. An hour? Two? Maybe even more than that? He could never tell time for the life of him.

The teen shifted where he sat on the bed and cringed a bit. He knew he needed a shower. And a change of clothes, for that matter; his torn up uniform was caked with dirt, mud, sweat, and who knows what else from the past week. He felt absolutely disgusting.

It didn’t exactly help that his jumpsuit was mostly white, either. He could see so many stains and splatters of all kinds. And he didn’t want to know what they were.

Even if he could easily recognize what the several reddish brown splotches consisted of.

He lifted his gaze up from his lap and took in more of his surroundings. Nothing much had changed since he had last looked. Cub had stepped away and was now scurrying around the room, tending to the many wounded. His main focus was primarily on Python, who seemed to be on the brink of death from the extent of his injuries. The man with grey hair was also treating another man with dirty blonde hair and a red shirt, who appeared to have suffered from a gunshot wound to his side. It must have been either Coda or Lucky that shot him; they were the only ones in the byte with guns at that point.

However, there was one primary difference. There was someone new in the infirmary, a new patient for Cub to tend to. A tall man with ghostly pale skin and black hair was sitting on one of the beds, his brown eyes wide, almost fearful. It was Mumbo Jumbo, the redstone child prodigy turned multimillionaire.

From what Nix could see, Mumbo wasn't in the best of shape, to say the least. He had several bruises, the worst being a massive black eye, all swollen and purple. A nasty, open gash was also right next to the injury, blood steadily dripping down his cheek. It was obvious that he was going to need stitches, and it was highly possible that he had a concussion.

At least Nix knew Coda had landed a few good hits on him. Made sure that he would be out of commission for awhile.

The Shadowbyte soldier continued to keep his dark brown gaze on the former redstone engineer. Mumbo was definitely nervous and scared, due to how he was seemingly trying to distance his mind from everything going on by bouncing his knee up and down, his eyes wide and staring off into empty space. He appeared to not have noticed Cub had come up to him and had begun to attempt to patch up the massive gash on his face.

Nix was convinced of his last assumption when Mumbo suddenly winced and cried out in pain as his wound was touched, and he reeled back from the man in the lab coat. Everyone around him had some sort of physical reaction; they flinched, jumped where they stood or sat, snapped their gazes towards him. The only one who stayed still was Nix himself.

After all, he couldn’t hear Mumbo. Or anything, for that matter.

Nix was able to hear at some point in his life. Up until the time he was about nine or ten years old. But he could never figure out why he had gone deaf. One day he could hear fine, and the next his whole world was silent except for the voice in his own head.

The best explanation he (and many others) could presume was that he had come in contact with some sort of glitch and had his code altered by accident. And the fact that he couldn't remember what happened to him further supported that theory; memory loss was a common side effect of one's code being messed with, in addition to other forms of trauma.

Like going deaf, for example.

Thankfully, he wasn't completely unable to interact with his peers. His hacks were his main method of communication. He would use telepathic hacks in order to 'talk' and 'listen'. They were essentially an equivalent of hearing aids, even if they only allowed him to hear voices.

On the rare occasion he couldn’t use his hacks due to fatigue or any other reason (or if someone was just plain lazy and didn't want to use telepathic hacks to speak to him), he could rely on his ability to read lips in order to figure out what people are saying. But unfortunately, doing that wasn’t exactly easy; most of the time he had to fill in a few words on his own.

However, getting his message across without his hacks was a much bigger challenge. He knew how to sign pretty well, which was a plus. But he knew that not a lot of people could sign fluently, especially if they weren't deaf on some level themselves. So more often than not, he had to resort to pen and paper, which he didn't always have access to.

But right there, in that very moment, Nix had nothing. No hacks, no pen and paper. Nothing. He had been completely cut off, save for his signing and lip reading. But that was helpful only if others knew how to sign as well.

And he assumed someone was trying to get his attention, for he felt a hand rest upon his shoulder.

The teen blinked and shifted his gaze away from Mumbo. Looking up, he saw that a new person had entered the room and approached him. A familiar man with dark brown hair and glasses, a set of grey elytra strapped to his back. He recognized him as the W.E.S. associate assigned to him. Joe.

Nix saw Joe's lips start to move, and he tried his best to read them. It frustrated him greatly that he couldn't use his hacks anymore; if he could then the man's phrases would be understood to their full extent. All the teen could make out were three words.

"Time to go."

He let out a soft sigh, and sat up off the bed to stand next to Joe. Of course he had to go.

The teen didn't pay any mind to the man as he escorted him out of the room and into the expanse of hallways. He had other things on his mind. Where the rest of the byte was, if they were okay.

And the possible repercussions of trying to escape.

Joe continued to lead Nix down the hallway, and before Nix knew it, he was already back at his cell. And he was more than exhausted at that point. The moment his escort opened the door, he stumbled into his room and fell face first onto his cot.

Now if he could only sleep without the constant wondering of where Grey was buzzing in his head.

~~~~~

Nix must have fallen asleep at some point, for he felt himself begin to wake up at the feeling of his shoulder being gently shaken.

He knew it had to be Joe; who else would it have been? Nobody came into his cell besides Joe, after all.

The teen rolled over to face the person and cracked open his eyes. Sure enough, he could make out a blurry shape of someone, and as he blinked to clear his vision, it was indeed Joe.

Joe adjusted his glasses and began to speak, which Nix of course couldn’t understand; he was such a quick talker it was frustrating. It was a miracle if he could even make out a single word. Let alone a full sentence.

The man then gently grasped the teen's shoulder again. He wanted him to get out of bed. Of course he had to interrupt his sleep.

But Nix complied anyway, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up, and allowing Joe to walk him out of his cell.

At first, he thought he knew where Joe was taking him; the meeting room he and the rest of the byte would be escorted to. He vaguely recognized the route they were taking. However, just as they were about to round a corner that led to the familiar chamber, Joe just passed it and continued walking.

Where were they even going?

He thought Joe must have read his look of confusion quite well, for the man responded quickly. Too quick for him to understand most of it. But there was one single word that he could make out from his phrases; funeral.

Funeral.

Nix blinked as soon as he saw Joe say the word. A funeral? At first, he was almost at a loss for who the funeral was for. Did somebody else in the byte die?!

However, after a moment of his panicked thoughts racing through his head, he began to realize who the funeral must have been for. The only one who had been confirmed deceased thus far, and had been for quite some time.

Jazz. They were giving him a proper burial. A proper goodbye...

But why? The only one who was close to him was Lucky. They didn't know who he was, or what he was like.

Then again… as dark as thinking about it was, it had been a whole week since Jazz had been killed. And bodies… didn’t last that long after death, to say the least. Not to mention it was the middle of summer. The high temperatures and humidity would only speed up the process of decay. They probably wanted to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

He wished he hadn't paid so much attention during his medical training.

The pair rounded another corner, and Nix saw a familiar sight. The grand staircase leading up towards the surface, towards the outside world.

His eyes widened, and he almost broke out into a run as Joe walked him up the stairs. With every step, the air got warmer and warmer, brighter and brighter-

And then they burst through the doors, into the compound. Into the summer sunlight.

It had been so long since the last time he felt the warm sun on his skin. Too long. The sensation almost made his knees weak, and he had to resist the temptation to sprawl out onto the grass and stay there.

But Joe continued to lead Nix along before he could.

The pair passed by the several buildings in the compound, as well as quite a few of the W.E.S. operatives. Jevin, Doc, False, several others Nix didn't recognize. They all threw disapproving and angry glances towards the teen. A few of them started to speak, but he couldn't hear them in the first place.

He didn't give a single damn about what they had to say, anyway.

Nix and Joe finally passed the gates of the compound and emerged into the massive field where the gruesome battle took place just a single week prior. It was pretty much the same as it was before. But this time, a massive crater blackened the grass and earth, massive pieces of shrapnel scattered about and sticking out of the ground. A shiver went down his spine at the sight; it was almost like there was the feeling of death lingering in the summer air.

But he did notice something different. In a less charred part of the field, he saw what appeared to be a group of people in the distance. And as he and Joe approached, he could start to make out a few familiar faces. Synth, Sakura, Angel.

And then there was the casket, sat on top of a stone platform. To his surprise, it actually looked quite nice. It definitely wasn’t thrown together in a hurry; time had obviously been put into creating it. Although simplistic and lacking intricate detail, the dark oak wood making up the coffin was polished to a shine, and the metal handles appeared quite sturdy.

However, Nix still wondered how they were able to throw something that nice that quickly together. But then again, as far as he knew, with the information Lucky had provided before the byte had actually been deployed, basically every single one of the members of HermitCraft was extremely talented, in some form or another. From engineers and scientists, to soldiers and artists, there were people from all walks of life.

Nix had never been to a funeral before. Not that it was on his bucket list of things to do, of course. It was due to him being such a new recruit; he had only been enlisted since the middle of spring, just a month or so prior. He never had the chance to properly mingle and get to know other soldiers, and, as a result, know them well enough to actually have a reason to go to their funeral, if they were to pass away or be killed in battle.

The only thing close to a funeral service Nix had been to was an execution.

Although gruesome, horrifying, and almost scarring, he understood that executions were necessary. Traitors, as rare as they were in the Shadowbyte ranks, existed, and once they were found, they had to be promptly dealt with. And to add insult to injury, their fellow soldiers were called in to watch them have their hacks leeched, followed by death.

It was the ultimate form of shame and humiliation. Having their greatest gift taken away from them, and having their friends, family, and colleagues observe like it was entertainment.

And now he knew what that felt like.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he and Joe had finally reached the small gathering of people. The teen looked over at Joe out of instinct, and felt somewhat annoyed as he said something that Nix couldn’t interpret. The man then gave a sympathetic smile and patted his shoulder a couple times, before turning around and walking off back towards the compound, his elytra softly fluttering in the breeze.

The teen glanced back over at his group, and he made his way over to stand in an open spot in the line. Leaning his head forward and glancing left and right, he began to do a mental headcount.

Angel was at the end of the row, standing tall and strong. She must have done this a hundred times before in her career. Her straight face and almost calm demeanor further supported that theory.

Synth stood on Nix's right. He also seemed quite collected, but not as much as his superior. While she had zero visible expressions or emotions, the redhead was obviously worried. What he was worried about, however, was unknown.

On Nix's left was Sakura. To his surprise and concern, she had a cast on her ankle that he couldn't help but mentally nitpick for how sloppy the work was. A pair of worn, rickety crutches helped her stay on her feet. Maybe she got injured during the escape.

But those were all of his colleagues that he could see. No Grey or Coda. Or Lucky, either. Where were they? Especially Lucky… he should have been showing up, right? It was his own brother’s funeral, after all…

… and then a single thought crossed Nix’s mind. It almost made him nervous to think about, and his heart began to pound:

Had they actually managed to escape?

As much as he wanted to go home, Nix desperately hoped that they didn’t succeed. He knew what was waiting out there. Monsters that spawned in the darkest hours of the night, wild animals that were hungry for a fresh kill or two, not to mention just good old nature, with her storms and ruthless weather. And with how the World was so young, there were bound to be some glitches occuring. Glitches that could possibly kill them-

No. They were going to be fine. They could both hold their own out there. Grey had the brains, and Coda had the strength. Everything was going to turn out alright.

There were a few other people there at the funeral, aside from Nix’s colleagues. Not surprisingly, Xisuma was among them. Nix presumed that most of the others were there to help keep an eye on what was going on. He was further convinced of that fact when he saw that almost all of them had some sort of weapon. And he could easily recognize that the entire arsenal was from the Shadowbyte soldiers’ personal setup.

The teen could recognize most of the ones standing guard. Firstly, there was the cyborg he had helped heal just about a week prior, Biffa. He had Jazz’s shotgun gripped in his mechanical hands, eyes scanning the small crowd like a hawk. And the sight of it made Nix grind his teeth in anger; that man had no respect for the dead. No respect for Lucky’s brother. He could have taken another weapon and left the gun alone, but no.

Next, there was Wels, a man with blonde hair and wearing what almost appeared to be a medieval set of armor, Synth’s longsword holstered to a belt around his waist. Nix thought the man’s choice in armor was a bit odd, but Nix just accepted that people from HermitCraft were a bit out there already.

However, then there was the wild card. A man with sunglasses and long brown hair tied in a ponytail stood on Xisuma’s left. He carried no weapon, and, to Nix’s surprise, appeared very solemn. Almost sad. He obviously wasn’t standing guard, and he didn’t look very threatening. So what was he doing there?

But then Nix saw there was someone standing next to the brunette, almost out of his line of sight; Lucky. And saying that he looked terrible would have been an understatement. Dark bags hung under his puffy, bloodshot eyes, his blonde hair needed to be combed and washed, his blue-accented uniform was covered in dust and dirt. Trails of dried up tears stained his freckled cheeks.

He couldn’t even imagine how Lucky was feeling. Nix didn’t have any family to lose; he had never lost somebody close to him. The only person who he was remotely close with was Grey.

But now he might have been on the verge of losing someone.

Nix was pulled out of his thoughts when he caught a glimpse of someone moving up the casket. A familiar man, one that Nix could recognize without hesitation, at this point. The green body armor and grey helmet covering his face made it easy.

Xisumavoid. The son of a bitch that leeched the hacks of him and his colleagues.

The man's helmeted gaze lingered on the wooden coffin, before he turned to face the crowd. Nix easily presumed that Xisuma was now talking. It would have been a bit odd if he were just standing there gazing over the crowd.

After a long and somewhat awkward moment of Xisuma's silent speech, Nix then saw Lucky's figure stiffen out of the corner of his eye. But instead of shrinking back, he shuffled away from where he was to step up onto the platform next to Xisuma, facing the small crowd.

If he was making a speech, then Nix would have to try his best to understand his words.

He saw the short blonde cough after a moment. “H...hello,” His lips read. Not too hard of a word. At least he was speaking quite slowly; it made his phrases easier to piece together. “Umm… I-I guess we all know why we’re here right now…” He glanced over his shoulder at the casket for a second, before returning his gaze back to the group.

"I...I want to say sorry…" Lucky swallowed. "T-to you guys. About everything…" His shoulders started to sag as his lips ceased to move. “I’ve been a failure as a soldier… a hacker… a-and a brother."

Nix could see the tears flowing down the blonde's face as he continued to speak. "U-uh…A-anyway…" He cleared his throat. "I-I'm not good at this sort of thing, but… but I should probably get to what I'm here for. Wh-what we're all here for. Ja-" He cut himself off. "R-riff."

“My brother was…” His lips stopped moving for a moment. He wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve. “Was the strongest guy I ever knew. He… put up with a lot. With his position in the Army, the missions he was sent out on…” A sad smile made its way onto his face, and he gave a sheepish laugh. “And especially me.”

Nix couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. He could see a few others around him laugh as well. Although he didn't know Jazz for long, it was blatantly obvious how much he had on his plate.

"But… He was always there for me." Lucky continued. "Even when he was only a kid himself… H-He protected me, stood up for me… He was the best brother anyone could ask for."

The blonde's figure began to visibly shake, and his lip trembled. "I-I…" He wiped more tears that had fallen down his face. “I’m so sorry, Jazz…”

And then, like a house of cards, Lucky collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body shook with his supposed cries, and before long, he turned around to rest his arms and head on the casket. As if trying to say goodbye to his brother one last time.

It didn’t exactly help that Nix couldn’t hear his sobs. Or that fact that Lucky had revealed his brother’s actual name.

Not that he could blame him.

But he felt a small sense of relief and comfort as he saw the mystery man in the red shirt and sunglasses quickly make his way up to the stone platform to kneel at Lucky’s side. He slowly helped the shaking blonde up to his feet, and led Lucky away from the casket and off of the stone platform, letting him cry as much as he needed to. As surprised as he was at the sudden act of kindness, he was glad that at least one person appeared to actually gave a damn about the situation.

Not to mention Xisuma. Once Nix shifted his dark gaze to the hacker, he saw that he almost appeared sympathetic. Like he knew exactly what Lucky was feeling. Not just the obvious sadness and sorrow of losing someone close; it was more than that. But Nix couldn’t put his finger on it.

And then out of nowhere, Lucky stopped in his tracks. His tear filled eyes were wide, fixated on something, and he began to speak. Nix raised an eyebrow, and followed his gaze to where the blonde had his locked on…

Biffa. Specifically, Jazz's shotgun gripped in his robotic hands.

Oh shit.

Before he could even blink, Lucky had charged towards the cyborg and attempted to tackle him. In reality, he more ended up knocking himself back as he ran into him, but he scurried to his feet and wrapped his hands around the gun.

Several of the W.E.S. members rushed to the pair, hastily trying to tear the blonde soldier away from Biffa. It didn't take that long for them to break Lucky's grip and drag him away towards the rest of the Shadowbyte soldiers, towards where Nix was.

So many people were moving and talking all at once, so much so that Nix couldn't even piece together a full sentence. The fray was too much for him to try and understand any of their words.

However, he could make out once sentence. One sentence from Lucky, and as far as he could tell, he was screaming it at the top of his lungs. And that sentence, as soon as he realized what had been said, sent a stabbing pain through his heart.

"You don't deserve to hold it."

Just as soon as he latched himself onto Biffa, Lucky was torn away from the object of his sorrowful anger by Wels, and dragged over towards Nix and the rest of the byte. The blonde visibly struggled for a moment, thrashing and kicking. But it wasn't long before his violent movements ceased, and he went limp as he continued to be dragged across the dirt.

Nix didn't know how much more he could witness before breaking completely.

Wels stood the blonde up next to the rest of the byte and, seemingly satisfied that he had given up trying to fight, let go and muttered something, before making his way back to his guarding position. All Nix could focus on was Synth's sword strapped to his belt, the sharp blade glinting in the summer sun.

If only he could snatch it quick enough to take that son of a bitch down with one strike.

He knew where to hit, how to make a quick and efficient kill. Knowledge of anatomy made that easy. But his lack of combat training held him back, in that regard.

So Nix could only be tempted by revenge as Wels walked away.

He removed his angered gaze and put them back on Lucky. His teary eyes were wide, his body shook and shivered. He appeared to be on the verge of collapsing to the ground.

Thankfully, someone immediately went to his aid; Sakura. She hobbled over to him on her crutches, saying something that Nix couldn't understand. As soon as she got close enough, the brunette woman brought Lucky into a hug, which he promptly accepted, his figure shaking as he began to let out another series of sobs.

At least he had her to lean on as he went through the grief. She seemed like she was willing to help anyone at any time.

Nix's dark brown eyes shifted away from his colleagues and back to the W.E.S. operatives who had brought them to the funeral in the first place. Specifically, his eyes landed on Xisuma, still standing next to Jazz’s casket.

The man still had his helmeted gaze on Lucky, but now a glare was cast over his purple visor from the sun. No expression could be seen, which made him appear more intimidating than he normally was. Just the fact that Nix could no longer see his face set him on edge.

After a moment of Nix keeping his nervous gaze on the hacker, however, Xisuma turned back towards the casket, and held out his hand. A faint flicker of pixels could then be seen radiating from Xisuma's palm as he threw his hand to the sky...

And right before his eyes, the casket was then consumed in a great ball of fire, sending sparks and thick smoke into the clear blue sky. A blast of immense heat washed over him, but he stood his ground.

Nix saw a few people jump back in surprise, all of whom were Xisuma's colleagues. He could presume they weren't expecting him to do that.

Although he had never been to a Shadowbyte funeral in the past, he knew the basic gist of how one would be carried out. Like a traditional funeral from just about anywhere, close family, friends, and colleagues would attend. They would pay their respects, give condolences to the ones closest to the deceased, and many people would make a small speech or two about the one who passed, before their casket would be burned. If the soldier was in a high enough rank and well respected, sometimes Ecrytpos himself would show up to say a word or two.

Nix knew that most of those events wouldn't occur, given the situation. The only family present was Lucky, and a majority of the people attending didn't know Jazz for more than a full day. And from what he could tell, Jazz deserved some of the highest honors a Shadowbyte soldier should receive.

It was a shame that it was never going to happen now. To any of them. Not to Angel, not to Synth, not to-

And then the smell of the smoke finally hit. Not just the wood from the casket… It was the scent of charred flesh. Burning hair. Metallic blood.

Jazz.

Nix felt his mouth and eyes water as his stomach twisted and churned. He wanted to vomit so badly at the horrid smell. But he knew he had to hold back the strong urge. Now wasn't the time. He needed to give Jazz the respect he deserved. The respect that nobody but the remaining members of the byte would give him.

So he lifted his hand up in a salute, not caring about the tears from his watering eyes flowing down his face, and mentally repeated the phrase a Shadowbyte soldier knew so well...

Glorious in life, eternal in death.

~~~~~

As disrespectful as it sounded, Nix was more than happy that Joe was bringing him back down into the bunker. He didn't know how much longer he could bear the smell of Jazz's burning remains. The temptation to walk faster was unbearable.

Nix had no clue if Joe was speaking to him. He just kept his eyes forward, trying to focus on settling his stomach. He could still faintly smell the awful smoke from the funeral pyre.

Now he really wanted a shower and a change of clothes.

The moment he and Joe had arrived at his cell, Nix didn’t hesitate to lumber in. He collapsed onto his bed and sighed, dark brown eyes shifting up towards the ceiling.

He never thought a single event would wear him out so much. But then again, he presumed funerals were supposed to be mentally and emotionally exhausting. At least he was back in his room-

He then saw Joe begin to flail his arms out of the corner of his eye. He must have been trying to get his attention.

Of course he couldn't be left alone.

The teen sat up in his bed and shifted his gaze onto the man in the elytra. His lips began to move, only this time, Nix could actually make out the sentence he had said.

“Why don’t you ever talk?”

Nix remained still for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He pointed to his ear, before shaking his head.

Joe blinked, frowned, and adjusted his glasses. “So… you can’t hear anything, huh?”

Nix pressed his lips into a firm line, and held up his hands. It took someone that long to wonder about it and ask? A whole entire week?

The older man quickly said something that Nix couldn't make out and raised his hands a bit in a defensive manner.

After a short moment, the man began to speak again, much more slowly than his usual pace. Maybe he was trying to make it easier for Nix to understand him. “But why did you lie about your names? We already know who y'all work for.”

Nix furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, glaring at Joe. He had some dignity left. He could give up everything else, but his name wasn’t one of those things.

But as soon as Joe finished his last sentence, the teen felt his stomach drop. What did he mean that he 'knew who they all worked for'? Somebody from the byte must have been forced to say something, but who?

Joe opened his mouth to speak again, but as quickly his lips started to move, they stopped. As he shifted his eyes over to the door, Nix followed them with his own-

And there he stood in the doorframe, tall and strong in his emerald green armor. Xisumavoid.

Nix felt chills run down his spine the moment he caught sight of the hacker, and he had the urge to try and scoot away as he walked into the room. He knew what Xisuma could do. What he was capable of. And he did not want to be the one on the other end of his weaponry and power.

Joe was looking at Xisuma intently, as if he were listening to him speak. But not like Nix could tell. Due to the helmet covering his mouth, the medic couldn't figure out what Xisuma was saying. Only bits and pieces of Joe's sentences.

"But I can’t… Zero’s deaf. He can't hear." Joe’s lips read. Nix figured that the hacker had asked if the man had gotten any information out of him that could be useful.

And he could tell that Xisuma wasn’t expecting that sort of answer from Joe. His eyebrows raised, as if surprised, and he could see slight wrinkles form and fade on the upper half of his face. He must have been speaking then.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Joe responded. He glanced over at Nix for a moment, before shifting his focus back to his colleague. “Uhh… y’know how to sign? Can any of the others?” He asked.

Xisuma raised an eyebrow, but shook his head.

Nix blinked, and then pressed his lips into a firm line. Nobody knew how to sign? Sure, he didn’t expect anyone to be perfect at it, but he expected at least one person would have a basic idea of what he was trying to say.

He watched the two men continue to converse. Even if he could only read Xisuma’s gestures and facial expressions. Seeing the guy crossing his arms, tapping his chin, and furrowing his brows didn’t exactly reveal a lot. Just that he was most likely thinking about something.

And then out of nowhere, Xisuma's eyes shifted onto Nix. The teen froze where he sat, a deer in the headlights, and his heart began to pound as Xisuma took a step towards him. Why did Xisuma do that? What did he want-

"Zero? Zero, can you hear me?"

The sudden voice in his head nearly made him jump up from where he sat. His ears almost started to ring. At first, he thought he might have been going crazy…

And then he realized what it was. It wasn't his conscience, or a new imaginary friend that his mind formed to try and keep himself sane. It was Xisuma using telepathic hacks in order to communicate better.

“Can you hear me?” The hacker repeated his sentence, taking another step towards the teenager. "Is this working?"

Nix kept his dark eyes locked on Xisuma. As hesitant as he was, he gave him a nod.

He saw Xisuma let out a visible sigh of relief. "Alright, good," He answered. “Now, just one moment.”

The teen was taken by surprise when the hacker then disappeared in a burst of green and blue pixels for a moment. However, he wasn't gone for long. Before Nix knew it, another flash of colored static filled the room, and when it faded, Xisuma was now standing there, a black pen, a small notebook, and a stack of familiar photographs in his hands.

Nix immediately knew what the hacker wanted him to do.

Xisuma put the pen and notebook in the tennager's hands. "Now, what's your name?" He asked. "Your real name."

Nix remained quiet, but looked at the notepad and pen in his hands. Should he really do this? What were the consequences going to be?

...then again, the chances of actually going back home to the Hive were slim to none. The odds of the Army actually finding them were even less. He was essentially down to nothing. Nothing to lose, nothing that could be taken away from him.

So he pressed the pen to the page, and scribbled out his message.

Nix. My name is Nix.

The teen tore the small slip of paper out of the notebook and handed it to Joe.

After a second of his eyes darting across the paper, Nix could see the man let out a small chuckle. "So it's Nix, huh?" Joe's lips read. "Fitting."

Nix looked up at Joe and frowned a bit, giving him an annoyed expression. Like he hadn't heard that before. He knew his name literally meant ‘none’, and that it did seem like it was perfect for him, given he could both hear nothing, and chose to say nothing.

"Are you a medic, by chance?" Xisuma then asked. The teen blinked in confusion, wondering how he could know his role as a Shadowbyte soldier, but then the hacker pointed to his shoulder. "The patches on your shoulders."

Nix shifted and glanced down at one of his shoulders, and he saw what Xisuma was talking about. A worn cloth patch of a red plus sign. The insignia of the Army's Medical Division, and a common mark of a medic anywhere. Now Xisuma made sense. Understanding, Nix nodded.

“Ah, I see,” Xisuma replied, and cleared his throat. “Alright… how about this person?” The hacker then held up a picture of a tired Lucky, eyes bloodshot and blonde hair disheveled.

Nix hesitated for a moment, remembering the fiasco that had happened earlier that day. But he soon began to write his answer down on his notepad anyway. As guilty as he felt selling his teammates out of the one secret they had left, somebody had presumably leaked much more sensitive information than just names.

That one is Lucky. He has-

He paused, and then scribbled over the ‘has’.

-had an older brother, Jazz. He was the one from the funeral today.

As Nix handed the paper off and Xisuma read it, he saw wrinkles form on his face. He must have been frowning. He could easily presume why.

But after a moment, the man blinked and shook his head a bit, before holding up another photograph. It was Sakura, curled up on her bed and shying away from the flash of the camera.

She's Sakura. She's a mechanic, from what I've been able to tell. Really sweet, once you get to know her.

He ripped off the slip of paper and handed it over. Xisuma had read it, and seemingly let out a small chuckle.

"I will admit, she's one the most tame out of you all." The hacker's voice echoed as he put away Sakura's picture and pulled out another. "Now, who's this man?"

Nix shifted his dark brown eyes onto the photograph, and felt his heart sink a bit. An older man with faded blue eyes and silver hair stared back at him, eyebrows furrowed. And despite his disheveled look, Nix could recognize him immediately.

Grey.

Nix hesitated for a moment as he recognized the man in the photograph. He had to snap himself out of his trance before he began to scribble down his message.

Greydroid. My mentor.

“A fellow medic, I presume?” Xisuma’s echoing voice asked after Nix had handed him the slip of paper.

Nix gave the hacker a small nod. His mind was starting to drift back off to other thoughts and questions he had that he knew couldn’t be answered. Specifically where his teacher was, and if he was okay.

Xisuma pulled him out of his thoughts as he pulled out another photo. A familiar shot of an angry Coda flipping off the camera. "What about her?" He asked. "What's her name?"

Nix's gaze lingered on the picture for a moment. He still couldn't help but wonder where she and Grey were. But he forced himself to shake away the thought, and he started writing again.

Her name is Coda. Don’t know much about her other than that Grey was also her mentor at some point. She also has a short temper, if you haven’t already noticed.

As the medic ripped off the slip of paper and handed it to the two men, he saw Joe starting to speak again as his eyes shifted onto him. "Wait, wasn't she the one that broke Iskall's nose?" His lips read.

Nix blinked, but he shrugged. It didn't surprise him that Coda had managed to do that. He knew that even with as immature as she seemed, she was highly skilled in close quarters combat. During the initial fight the week before, she was taking down people left and right. He was shocked that she hadn't killed anyone, with how brutal she was.

Maybe she was restraining herself from doing so. Following Angel’s orders.

Nix shifted his attention back to Xisuma as he held up another photograph, a tall and handsome man with fiery red hair and striking grey eyes. Synth.

He clicked his pen and began to write.

That's Synth. He and Coda are really close friends, but I don't know if they're more than that.

Tearing off the paper and handing it over, Nix started to wonder how Synth and Coda even became friends. Synth was prim, proper, patient. Definitely a gentleman. Coda, on the other hand, was impulsive, loud, and very reckless. The two couldn't be any more different.

But he didn't have time to wonder about the relationship between the two Infantry soldiers. If his math was right he had one more person to identify.

And he was correct. Because Xisuma pulled out a picture of a woman he could name on sight. Ebony skin, black curly hair, an eyepatch over one of her dark eyes. He immediately began to write his answer.

She's our leader. Her name is A-

And then the ink stopped mid sentence, leaving only indents on the paper.

Of course that had to happen. Of all times, it had to happen when he was almost done.

Nix scribbled off to the side to try and get the ink to flow again. Nothing happened. He huffed and made another mark. Still nothing.

Now that was just great. The pen just had to go dry at that moment, didn’t it? Now what was he going to do?

...And then he had an idea. It seemed quite foolish, but he didn't care.

Nix suddenly sprang up and grasped one of the wings of the silver elytra strapped to Joe's back, tugging a couple of times.

The man was taken slightly aback by the sudden action. He jumped back a bit as the teen let go of the wing he had snatched. His lips started to move and say a sentence, that the teen unfortunately couldn't make out.

Nix then reached a hand over his own shoulder and patted his back a few times. Hopefully he could get his message across without the use of words.

Xisuma tilted his head slightly, visibly confused. "Nix, what are you trying to say?" His voice echoed.

The teen became slightly discouraged. Maybe a little game old charades wasn't going to work after all… but he knew he had to try more than once. So he tugged on Joe's set of wings and tapped his back once again.

Joe's next words were easier to understand. “Wings? Back?" He started. "Wings on her back-” His lips suddenly stopped moving, and Nix could assume he went quiet. But a small smile soon formed on his face. “Angel? Is her name Angel?”

Nix couldn’t help but smile back, and gave a single nod. They understood him!

“Thank you, Nix.”

Xisuma’s voice sounded in his head again. He glanced over at the hacker, who was now conversing with Joe, and handed over all of the photographs and slips of paper to him. Of course, he couldn't decipher what they were actually saying, but at this point, he didn't exactly care.

Joe then began to walk towards the door, stack of photos and notebook paper in hand. He said something to Xisuma and waved, presumably a goodbye, before ultimately exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

But then instead of following his colleague out, Xisuma remained where he stood. There was a moment where he did not move, did not appear to have said anything. What was he doing?

"I have one more question for you," His voice then echoed in Nix's head, catching him off guard. He turned around to face him, and took a step forward.

The teen tilted his head a bit, and unconsciously leaned closer. He almost wanted to know what his captor had to say. It gave him something to do, allowed him to fight back the boredom and ease the anxiety.

"Who leads the Army?"

Nix raised an eyebrow at Xisuma's statement. He wasn't expecting that sort of question. Sure, he knew that the members of HermitCraft had somehow figured out who he and the rest of the byte worked for, but why would he want to know? Perhaps he wanted to determine who the biggest enemy of the Shadowbyte Army was. The head of the whole beast.

At least Nix had an easy answer to the question. It had always been the same exact person, ever since the Shadowbyte Army was founded; Ecryptos. It may have been years and years since he had created it, but the general was still alive and kicking. He had grown so powerful that he had essentially become ageless. Immortal, even.

It made sense why nobody ever tried to overthrow him. And even if he wasn’t as powerful as he was, it wasn’t likely that anybody would want to take his title for the sake of others. Ecryptos wasn't anything close to a tyrant. If anything, he was a savior. A guardian. He treated any other person he took under his wing like they were his own family.

Including Nix.

He was still quite young when he was first taken in, about nine or ten years old. As fate would have it, it was at that time he had lost his hearing, and it didn’t take long for someone to notice and figure it out. And that person was none other than Ecryptos himself.

Every now and then, Ecryptos would visit the floors where the children who hadn’t begun their training would stay. Usually it was to check up on how the newer ones were doing; more often than not, they would come from a bad situation. He always wanted to make sure that each one had the opportunity to have the best childhood possible, no matter where they came from or what they were dealing with.

Nix had caught the general's attention with how distant he was being. He never interacted with the other children, or any of the adults. Due to the obvious communication barrier that was suddenly thrown upon him by the loss of his hearing, Nix had decided to shut himself off out of frustration and sadness. He would just sit in a cramped corner for hours on end.

And he didn't expect Ecryptos, this seemingly terrifying man who he had never met before in his life, try to get through to him and provide accommodations for his condition.

When Nix first saw him, he couldn't help but feel scared; Ecryptos didn't exactly appear friendly, to say the least. He was freakishly tall, had a sickly, almost rotten tone to his skin. Not to mention the countless scars scattered across his body. And what made him even more scary was the fact that Nix couldn’t see his face behind the helmet he wore; it was the unknown that frightened him.

Yet the first thing Ecryptos did when he met the boy was anything but cruel. He approached, sat down a few feet away from him, and, to Nix’s surprise, rolled a small rubber ball over. As if Nix were a shy dog that didn’t want to play.

At the time, Nix thought it was extremely silly and strange. Yet the man had continued to patiently wait for Nix to feel comfortable, to feel like he could talk to him. And after hours of the two rolling the small toy back and forth, Nix finally did try to speak (which he couldn’t hear). It was at that moment Ecryptos realized why Nix had shut himself off. He didn’t know how to communicate anymore.

And so, from that day forward, Ecryptos taught Nix as much as he could, in terms of communication. He was the one that had made sure Nix would be able to socialize in any circumstances, whether via hacks or by signing or lip reading.

So, in summary, Nix was very grateful to the legendary general. If he were to reveal his identity, the repercussions would be terrifying!

...but then again, Ecryptos couldn't exactly die. He had been alive for years, and could go for centuries more. There was no way, even with how powerful Xisuma was, that if he were to try and take him down, Ecryptos could not be killed or overthrown.

So he pressed his pen to the paper and scribbled down his answer.

His name is Ecryptos.

He stopped for a moment, pursed his lips, and added another two sentences.

And I wouldn't try going after him, if I were you. You WILL die.

He had to try and hold back the grin that wanted to form on his lips as he tore the paper out of his notepad and handed it to Xisuma. Maybe he could have a little fun with this.

But once the hacker's eyes landed on the paper, Nix noticed his behavior change right away. His grip on the message tightened, his brows furrowed, his posture stiffened. Most of all, something sparked in his eyes.

Burning hatred.

And before Nix knew it, Xisuma had sprung to his feet, spun around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

That was certainly unexpected.

He had no idea that the hacker would have a reaction as volatile and sudden as that. But it did reveal something, something that gave Nix more questions than actual answers.

Xisuma was obviously angry and resentful at something, so much so that it took every fiber of his being to not let it all out.

Because the steel handle of his door had molded to the shape of his grip like a ball of clay.

~~~~~

After another bland couple of meals and another sleepless night, Nix didn't think twice about Joe waking him up and leading him out of his cell. He was too tired to care about anything the members of HermitCraft had to say, and too worried about Grey to focus on anything else.

Not to mention his last interaction with Xisuma. Why would he have a reaction that intense? He didn’t know Ecryptos; nobody outside the Army did. Once someone was taken in by the Army, they served for life. And even if they wanted to leave, where would they go? The reason they joined in the first place was because they had nobody else to turn to. Not family, friends. All of their bridges had been burned, intentionally or not.

He knew it was raining outside. Or at the very least, it had been. He could see the countless trails of muddy shoe prints and small puddles of water along the tile he passed by. He also felt the rubber soles of his boots squeaking against the floor as he walked.

At least he couldn't hear that. Leave that for everyone else to deal with. It was one of the only sounds he was glad he was missing.

But Nix started to notice something. The route he and Joe were taking through the maze of hallways was familiar. Even if he had only been in that World for about a week, he had been on a strict daily routine before the attempted breakout. And he realized the path that he was taking.

He and Joe were headed towards the byte’s meeting room.

But why? Had something happened to prompt a meeting? Maybe Grey and Coda had returned-

No. There was no possibility of that. Coda was the most stubborn person Nix had ever met, and there was no way she would want to come back after a successful escape. And she probably wouldn't let Grey out of her sight.

...but he couldn't help but start to hope.

Joe and Nix rounded a final corner, and the single door to the meeting room came into view. The teen's heart began to pound harder and harder with every step closer. He could see figures moving inside through the small barred window on the iron door-

The moment Joe opened the door, Nix broke away from his grip and dashed inside. Darting his eyes around, he saw every member of the that was at the funeral the day before; Angel, Lucky, Sakura, Synth. Even Xisuma.

But still no Grey or Coda.

The teen's heart sank as his hope crumbled. He couldn't help but let his shoulders sag a bit. Even if it was just a slim chance, the idea of knowing his mentor was okay was one he was desperate to make come true.

He lifted his eyes from the floor and glanced around at the people around him, before his eyes landed on the one person he didn't expect to be there. Xisuma.

Xisuma stood at the front of the room, all by himself. For a second, Nix was wondering why he had no armed colleagues at his side. But then he remembered that the man could probably wipe them out of existence with a single flick of his hand.

He could more than easily take care of himself.

"Hello everyone," Xisuma's voice echoed inside of Nix’s head, and he saw his fellow soldiers shift their gazes towards him. He must have been using his hacks and speaking simultaneously. "As many of you know, during your attempted breakout, a couple of you had actually managed to escape. You all may be part of a...faction of hackers, but we know that you all are very loyal to both your cause and your colleagues."

"We are forming a search party for the two who have escaped," Xisuma continued, making Nix's eyes widen with interest. The man then held up his palm, and two images of two people he knew all too well appeared on a holographic display, similar to Lucky's. "Coda and Grey."

Nix saw a few of the byte members beside him have a visible reaction to the real names of their missing colleagues being said. A slight feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach; it would only be a matter of time before they found out what he had done.

At least Coda wasn't there to beat the shit out of him.

Xisuma made a fist, and the holographic display disappeared in a flash of pixels. “We are willing to bring some of you along," The hacker continued, catching Nix's attention. "However, you will be under strict supervision. If you try anything, there will be consequences." The hacker glanced around the crowd one last time. "Anyone who is willing to go, just step up."

At first, everybody was still. Not a single person twitched or moved; all stood their ground. But to Nix’s surprise, he then saw someone step forward from the group of five and approach the hacker.

Synth.

The teen saw confusion arise from the others around him. Angel reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. Her lips moved wildly, too quick for Nix to make anything out.

However, after a short moment, Synth's lips moved for a second, before he gently removed the woman's hand and walked off towards Xisuma. The two men began to converse, but Nix didn't know what the redhead was saying; his back was facing him.

However, Synth’s body language revealed quite a lot. His shoulders were tense, he was standing up straight, his arms were crossed. He was definitely very serious about what he was doing. This wasn't something he was doing on a whim.

And the teen could only come up with one reason why he would be that way.

As far as he knew, Synth barely knew Grey. The way they interacted with one another was very professional, not exactly personal.

But with Coda, on the other hand, the two were practically attached at the hip. The way they interacted gave the obvious hint that they were very close. And the way Synth was acting now implied that he cared about Coda deeply.

And Nix didn't need to know what he was saying to understand that.

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jjkfire · 6 years ago

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update 4/27/21:

I'm working at a startup so it's extremely busy. but I love my job! i am trying to find the time to fit writing in my schedule tho. gonna figure it out someday lol. my stories are not abandoned, don't worry. all the endings and plot points have been planned. i'm just struggling to find the time to write atm. still very grateful for all the kind words and support you guys have given me over the years. hope all of you are out there living your best lives, exploring, learning, and finding joy in all the little things 😊 join my tag list (read the instructions pls) to get notified when I update my fics!

previous big update:

hello! i know i’ve been sort of mia but… it’s been an absolutely chaotic time for me.

the (long) story goes a little something like this:

earlier this year during spring break, i had friends who convinced me to give america a shot and apply for jobs after grad. i really didn’t want to because the visa process is a pain and it costs a lot. also, not a lot of companies want to hire internationals so it’s very demoralizing to receive a million rejections… but my friends are very persuasive people lol.

so it was super hectic during the last few months I had in the country as i tried to get through the visa process, study, work, beef up my resume, apply for jobs and graduate at the same time. (i understand that a ton of people have to do this too… but it’s hard y’all). anyway, one Medium article, one cold email, and a number of grueling interviews later, i found out i got a job!

now i just had to convince my parents… this was actually in all honesty, the most stressful part. i love them to death but my father really made it feel like i was choosing between my family and a job and ngl i cried myself to sleep on the regular. in the end, he finally gave me the okay to take the job but i know he’s still very upset. that’s honest to god the worst part. (my mum’s been super supportive tho so i guess that’s the silver lining in all of this!)

prior to getting the job though, I was really in limbo. I had returned to my home country because I and by extension, my parents, were not confident that i was going to be able to land a job in the US. I was very confused because I was neither here nor there. I was interviewing with the american company from my home country, trying my best to make sure they’d still be interested in me as a candidate no matter how many hurdles there were. then, to ensure that I had a safety net, I was also doing interviews locally and sending out resumes whenever I could. I was exhausted. and I know everyone goes through the job hunt so it’s equally as exhausting for everyone but yeah it was not a fun time.

anyway so now that I took that job in america i gotta move halfway across the world again, but this time without financial support and i don’t know… maybe this is the first time i’ll be truly independent and ya im seconds away from shittin myself. really gotta put on my big girl pants and try to not be broke yeet yeet.

but uhh that’s the low down on why i haven’t been able to write much at all…….. and yeah! working on it tho… haha always working on it.

to end all of this, I just want to say that I’m super lucky to have all of you. I basically got the job because of that article I wrote. I know I sound like a broken record talking about my article over and over but I dunno I guess all of this is just a little wild to me ahah.

I owe a lot of my confidence in my writing to all of you. I personally think my writing improved bc of this blog and the support you guys give me is… unreal (“: I know it may seem insignificant to some of you to reblog/like and comment on a fic but it really spurs me creatively and makes me feel sort of confident about my writing. all of that is probably why I didn’t think twice about hitting that post button on my article. although it’s a very different type of writing… I don’t know it’s just knowing that my writing is worth something… knowing that my writing is worth taking 5 minutes out of your day to read, is pretty cool and you guys kind of gave me that! (i am in no way saying that my writing is the best thing on earth. far from it. but i think you guys understand what i’m trying to say!)

so in some way, you guys helped me get a job! nice work team hahahah. also, also i just want to say, never give up. I decided I wanted to try my luck at the American job market maybe around the end of March and graduation was in early May. so I had about more or less a month to do something. I knew I needed a way to set myself apart from everyone else because my gpa wasn’t stellar and I hadn’t had any internships in America. not to mention the fact that I was an international student hence it was even harder to get hired. so basically, why would a company pick me over the next person? I thought perhaps knowing how to code was the way to give myself an edge so I learned some basic python and sql but then I realized there wasn’t really an impressive project I could attempt within that short time frame and I also knew far too little to do anything anyway. this meant that I was back at square one.

so, I switched gears instead. I sat down and really thought about what I could do. I concluded that at the very least, I could write. I knew I could write so I needed something that I could use along with my writing and I was like… it’s gotta be data! knowing that, I picked up the basics on how to use Tableau and I also picked up VBA macros in excel (if you don’t know what this is… I think you should Google it. it will literally blow your mind. excel can do a lot more than you can imagine). Then, I picked what I wanted to write my article on, got the data I needed from google trends, used vba macros to make the calculations faster, used tableau to make charts based on the data and photoshop to spice up the charts and etc. I did my research in the meantime as well and had a rough plan on what I was going to write about. after this, it was all systems go and it went a little like this:

wrote the article. attached my charts. linked the links. hit that post button. applied to all the jobs & companies that I thought would see value in what I did and can do. got rejected many times. felt discouraged. did more searching on companies that were willing to hire internationals. decided to send a cold email to a company. ACTUALLY HEARD BACK. went through multiple interviews. ACTUALLY GOT THE JOB.

so guys, never give up. recognize your strengths and build around that. if you think you don’t have any strengths, look harder. if you still feel you don’t have any, make the effort to learn something. it’s never too late for anything. I did all of that in one month and 10 days (the learning stuff and writing the article thing I mean). always be open to learning. I say this so much irl that my friends are sick of it but in this day and age with the internet, you can literally learn anything. so please, learn. learn for fun, learn for whatever reason. learn anything. you’ll never know when it’ll come in handy. like my basic Photoshop that I learned just so I could make a header for my blog… literally used that skill for the graphics in my article lol.

anyway, you can achieve a lot more than you think you can. you just gotta throw caution to the wind and do your own thing. be determined, be proactive. if things aren’t going the way you think it should be, do something to change that. you are all amazing and capable of great things! I hope you all know that. my mum always said if you never try, you’ll never know. don’t be afraid, don’t stop to think about what other people will think of you. keep doing you. people doubt you enough so don’t add to that. keep your head held high and keep moving forward.

once again I want to thank you guys for being sort of a support system for me! every comment, nice ask and sweet message has brought me this far. i really mean it (’: always be nice and supportive my sweet dumplings. your words truly have impact!

#very long essay...#it's a very long ramble i know ): but it feels so good to vent here #ramblin

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 6 years ago

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Fifty One

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

September 13th, 2017

Dee looked out the window of their house with awe. “Mama! Look!” he signed as Mama walked into the room.

“What’s up, Dee?” Mama asked.

“The leaves! They’re changing colors!” Dee signed animatedly, pointing.

“Yeah, I told you they do that,” Mama said, amused.

“But it’s really pretty!” Dee signed. “You never said it was so pretty!”

Mama laughed and gave him a hug. “The leaves fall off the trees too,” she said. “And you can collect them off the ground and keep the ones with really pretty colors.”

Dee gasped. “Really?!” he signed.

“Really,” Mama said, smiling. “Do you want to go out now and look?”

“Yeah!” Dee bounced in place. “I wanna go out and collect leaves!”

Mama let out a small laugh. “Okay, let’s go outside, then.”

June 20th, 2020

It took all the self-control Dee had to not sprint through the parking lot of the library. He had seen the flyer the last time that Patton and Virgil had gone book-hunting there; apparently a reptile exhibit was happening today. They were bringing in lizards, and turtles, and chameleons, but most importantly: they were bringing in snakes. Real life snakes! That Dee could actually hold!

He was scurrying into the library already, even as Dad just barely got onto the sidewalk. “Dee! Wait up!”

Dee turned in dismay, but nevertheless waited for Dad to catch up to him before walking inside and heading straight for the kid’s section, where the reptiles were going to be displayed all day. He ran through the halls, which were pretty empty for a Saturday morning, and zeroed in on the space in the center of the library where the tanks were set up.

He talked a little with the nice man who was feeding the reptiles, and by talking he meant Dee was signing and Dad was translating for him. When the man got used to only asking Dee yes or no questions, Dad gently nudged Dee and said, “I’ll be looking for the books Patton and Virgil wanted, okay?”

Dee nodded and let Dad leave. He was having fun looking at all the reptiles, and the man was teaching him how to hold snakes. He was handed a corn snake and his eyes lit up like he had never seen something so amazing. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to say to the snake, but he wanted to tell the snake how amazing and cool it was.

“Dee?” a familiar voice asked.

Dee turned from where he was holding the corn snake to see someone observing him with shock. Dee swallowed thickly. He couldn’t believe it. He just...couldn’t believe it. “Mama?” he hesitantly signed, careful not to jostle the snake wrapping itself around his arm.

“It is you!” she exclaimed, walking over from where she was helping with one of the tanks. “You’ve grown so much!”

Dee stared. “Mama...what are you doing here?”

“This is part of my sentence,” Mama said, a bitter note in her voice. “They gave me five years of prison time, and I volunteered to help with this for community service. They’re keeping a close eye on me so I can’t leave but...” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I get to see you again!”

“Dee, I found the books Virgil was looking for, are you still enjoying the...snakes...” Dad trailed off as he got closer. His eyes were as cold as ice as he stared at Mama. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! I'm doing community service! What are you doing here?!” Mama spat.

“Dee's only seven, he can't run around unsupervised,” Dad growled.

Dee looked between the both of them with surprise. They definitely recognized each other, but where would Dad have seen Mama other than Dee's picture?

The court case, his mind supplied. After Mama got arrested.

Well, that wasn't good, especially if Dad got Mama to go to prison on purpose. He really didn't want to think about what that might mean. But of course, he had to think about it, because it was unfolding right before his very eyes.

“—Telling me how to parent my own child?!” Mama asked indignantly. “The only reason you even know about him is sheer dumb luck! You said so yourself!”

“And that fact is the reason why you don't get a say in Dee's life anymore! You abandoned him on the street! That's child neglect, which is a crime!” Dad roared.

Dee backed up a little against the tanks, focusing on the weight of the snake he was holding. But as things looked like they might escalate into a screaming match, Dee hastily let the head of the group have the snake back and stood in between Mama and Dad. He knew he was crying, but he couldn't let the fight continue.

Dad reeled backwards with a jerk, suddenly going extremely quiet. Mama was...Dee swallowed. Mama was now glaring at him. “Dee, get out of the way.”

Dee swallowed, but shook his head.

“Dee, that wasn't a request. Move, now.”

Dee just stood there, shaking like a leaf.

“Deagan Timothy Russel, you move right now or—”

“It's Picani,” Dee said softly.

“What?” Mama asked.

Dee cleared his throat. “Deagan Timothy Picani, not Russel. They changed it when I got adopted.”

That, apparently, was not the right thing to say. Mama went red and shoved Dee aside, nearly sending him careening into the tanks and the carts holding them. She was all set to go on a tirade, but Dad’s eyes flashed dangerously and he beat her to the punch. “You...you shoved Dee?!”

Mama growled. “He refused to move. He’s not hurt!”

Dee couldn’t say that for sure. His feelings were definitely damaged. For a year and a half now, he said to himself that Mama might have made mistakes, but she wasn’t as bad as Patton and Virgil’s mom, or Charles. But she’d thrown him aside the second he had gotten in her way. More tears welled up in his eyes. Did he really mean that little to her? Did she only act nice to him when he behaved by her rules?

“Are you seriously saying he’s not hurt when he’s standing right there, crying?!” Dad asked incredulously. “I backed down when he tried to get us to stop! You’re escalating the situation and making everything worse!”

“Escalating?! I’m escalating?! You’re the one who started yelling first!” Mama snapped.

A man in a police uniform was walking over, hands outstretched in an attempt to placate. “Miss Russel...”

“I’m sober! I’ve gotten better! But you still deny visitation rights! You’re the one who makes sure I can’t write Dee, I can’t call him, I don’t get the chance to tell him how much I love him!” Mama exclaimed.

Dee covered his ears with his hands in an attempt to block out the shouting, but it all just became jumbled and distorted instead. He closed his eyes shut tight, but his tears just kept falling. All he wanted was to see the snakes, how had this gone so wrong?!

Mama was screaming now, no words, just noise, and Dee opened his eyes to see the man wrestling with her to keep her off Dad. Dee watched with wide eyes as she clawed free and slapped Dad, nails digging into his cheek and drawing blood. “Stop!” he exclaimed. “You’re hurting him!”

Mama just continued to stride forward, attacking Dad every chance she got. “Mama, stop!” Dee exclaimed again. “Mama, stop hurting Dad! Please!”

When she turned to him, Dee couldn’t see any love in her eyes, only bitter anger and hatred. “He’s convinced you that I’m the bad guy, Dee, but he’s the one who’s hurting you! We can be better, I got the treatment I needed, and once I’m out of jail, I can be with you again!”

Dee shook his head. “Dad d-didn’t con-con-convince...convince me that you were a bad guy, Mama. You...you did th-that on your own.”

Mama stared at him in shock. “Where did the sweet little boy I knew go?” she asked.

Dee’s eyes hardened, even as he felt tears continuing to fall. “He died the day you abandoned me,” he signed. “I’m all that’s left.”

The man managed to get handcuffs on Mama, and Dad came over to Dee. “Dee, are you all right?”

“Fine, Dad,” Dee mumbled. He glanced at Mama. “Why’s she staring at me?”

“Well, you are rocking pretty hard, buddy. You’re really upset,” Dad said.

Dee nodded. “Understatement,” he signed. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

“That’s okay, Dee, we won’t make you talk,” Dad said. “Do you want to go back to the snakes? I’ll deal with your mom and the guard, okay?”

Dee nodded again. “I know now why you didn’t want me to see her,” he signed, hiccuping.

Dad smiled sadly. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, hugging Dee, and Dee hugged back desperately.

Then he was gone and Dee turned back to the man who was handling the reptiles, who was staring at the scene in shock. He shook himself, before turning to Dee. “Do you want to hold a python?” he offered.

Dee nodded eagerly, willing himself to forget about that encounter, and letting himself focus on the awesomeness of being able to hold a ball python. It was a little heavy, but the man helped him hold the snake, whose name was Susie, upright. Whenever she slithered towards Dee’s neck, the man would redirect Susie onto one of his arms before letting her curl back up around Dee’s hands.

Soon enough, Dad was back, and he was smiling, however pained that smile looked. “Hey, Dee,” he said. “Do you want to play with the snakes some more or do you want to find some books and check out?”

“Mama?” Dee asked, hands shaking.

“Not going to bother you, Dee, I promise,” Dad said. “She’s being taken back to the detention center they put her in.”

That was kinda good, Dee supposed, but he was still sad. “I wanna go home,” he signed.

Dad nodded, thanked the man who took Susie back, and they went to the nonfiction section so Dee could pick out a few books on snakes. Then they checked out and were on their way home.

When they got back, Dee felt listless, and he knew all his brothers were worried when they asked him about the snakes but he just signed, “Not right now,” and face-planted into the couch.

Everyone tried to get Dee to talk to them, but he wasn’t really in the mood. He just laid there on the couch with no way to handle what he was thinking about, the fight playing over and over and over in its mind, and he couldn’t block it out no matter how much he tried.

After a while, he could hear more footsteps approaching him and he internally sighed. He still didn’t want to talk to anyone. There was a soft, but firm hand placed on Dee’s right shoulder blade, and he grimaced. If there was anyone he didn’t want to talk to at all right now, it was Dad and Ami. “Dee, Dad told me about what happened at the library. Are you okay?”

Dee propped his head up with one arm and shook it while looking at Ami’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to be. Do you want to explain what happened?” Ami asked.

Dee sat up and sighed, looking at Ami. “Mama and Dad fought, and it was really scary,” he signed.

“I’ll bet,” Ami said. “Dad’s really scary if he yells. Did he yell?”

“Yeah,” Dee signed. “And Mama pushed me, and I thought she loved me but I think she only loved me when I was being good. And she stared at me when I rocked.”

Ami winced. “That sounds tough,” he said softly. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with that. Did you like the snakes, at least?”

“Yeah, I did,” Dee signed, smiling softly. “They were really smooth, and not slimy at all. So Patton calling snakes slimy boys was wrong. That was funny.”

“I think he picked that up from Roman. Did you like anything else about them?” Ami asked.

Dee nodded. “They were really nice! They just wrapped themselves around my hands and my arms and chilled there! I loved them so so so much, and I wish I got to tell them that in a way that they’d understand.”

“I’m sure they know anyway,” Ami assured. “If you were gentle with them, they definitely know that you love them, and they probably think you’re pretty cool to boot.”

Dee’s eyes widened. “Really?” he signed hopefully.

“Really,” Ami said, smiling. “Is there anything else you know about the snakes that you want to tell me?”

Dee delved into a very lengthy discussion about everything he knew about all snakes, ever, and he was starting to feel a little better because of it. When he was done, he felt better enough to actually wave to Dad when he came in to apologize. Seeing Mama had shaken him, but he knew for certain now that he definitely belonged in the Picani family, and staying with Mama would have hurt him. And while that information made him a little sad, he was also really happy that he was loved here.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #deceit sanders #emile picani #remy sanders #our creations #danger gays

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years ago

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LOT/CC fic: Subterfuge (ch. 2 of 6)

Subtitle: “Five Times Sara and Len Nearly Got Busted–and One Time They Did.” Immediate follow-up to “Date Night.” Sara and Len are trying to figure out their new relationship without cluing their teammates in quite yet. That, however, is easier said than done.

There are a few small Easter eggs here. Thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta! Can also be read here on AO3 or here on FF.net.

It’s not that they don’t want to spend more time alone together. They definitely do. But the Waverider is small, and their teammates are nosy, and there’s no chance to do anything more than share the occasional short talk, or a few minutes in the training room, or the briefest kiss.

Not if they don’t want to spill the beans, anyway.

Len, frankly, wouldn’t mind at all. Hell, he’d sort of like to scream to the hills that he’s slept with Sara Lance. (Not that sleeping had all that much to do with it, but whatever. He can do euphemisms.) That he has every hope and intention of continuing to sleep with Sara Lance. That he’s…

That he’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with Sara Lance.

He's never felt this way in his misspent life before, but it doesn't matter. He knows. It's unnerving and exhilarating at the same time.

He's not sure she feels the same. He hopes she does, or that she'll get there. But in the meantime, well…some time would be nice.

But even…especially…on a time ship, that's in short order. Right after their date night in Central City, they get bit by a wave of aberration reports, one right after another, and then a wave of time prate activity right on top of them.

Eventually, it's so frenetic that the team splits up. Amaya, Stein, Nate and Jax go to 2015 Orange City to deal with a confused and angry group of would-be members of the Spanish Inquisition. (Nate and Ray happily toss Monty Python quotes at each other until Sara separates them.) Sara, Len, Mick and Ray head to late 1800s New York City to keep time pirates from pushing William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer into instigating the Spanish-American War sooner than the timeline demands.

Once there, Sara, making a snap judgment on the abilities of her people, sends Ray and Mick to Cuba in the service of the New York Journal and the New York World, respectively, and takes Len to the streets of New York City to try to stop the special (and fortunately, very limited) editions both papers had printed with very similar (and thoroughly fake, fed to them by the time pirates) stories blaming new, creative and fictitious Cuban atrocities on Spain.

War will still start, but it needs to start in April 1898, not before.

Len, a former street kid of sorts (his Lewis having died considerably earlier than Earth-1’s Lewis, leaving him and Lisa to the streets for a few years, something that’d turned out to be rather less damaging than the alternative) had appealed to the newsies who already had the papers. Well, in all honestly, he’d bribed the hell out of them, having done his usual amount of research before leaving the Waverider and appealed to Gideon for a copious sum of 1898 currency. She’d calculated the amount that could enter the U.S. economy without ill effect, then grudgingly provided it, Len having figured out how to sweet-talk her nearly from day one.

The kids are willing to hand over the papers provided Sara and Len pay them even better than they could have earned for a long day of work. Sara, eyeing their ragged thinness, hands over perhaps a little more money than she strictly has to. From his slight smile, she’s pretty sure Len notices—and does the same.

Still, it occurs to some of the older, more cynical newsies that they could get some cash and still have the papers to sell…all they have to do is wait and take them back from this pair of “soft” and apparently rich folk.

Despite how everything eventually works out, Sara curses herself for being off her guard, for being a little too self-satisfied at being able to help these kids, forgetting that one doesn’t live long on the street by being unwilling to take chances and do things that aren’t, precisely, on the side of any angels.

“Ow!” She stares down at her bleeding wrist, at the…oh, hell, interior of her bleeding wrist, exposed by an unexpectedly sharp blade held in the hand of a filthy and mutinous-looking teenager, who scowls at her just before he reaches down and grabs a bundle of the newspapers, starting to back away.

“Are you kidding me?” she tells him incredulously, before kicking the knife out of his hand and grabbing the papers back with her non-injured hand. “I know we just gave you, like, double your daily take.”

“Sara?” Len’s at her side and scowls at first the injured wrist and then the teen, who’s just foolish enough to scowl back at him. A pair of compatriots move to his side, then another, and they’re all clearly trying to decide whether or not to rush the pair of unexpectedly competent intruders.

Len shakes his head, then pulls out a somehow still pristine handkerchief and gently wraps Sara’s (now quite painful) wrist in it. She lets him, keeping an eye on the boys, hearing the others they’d paid off scurrying away. She doesn’t blame them; most of them are just kids, and even with her wrist, the biggest part of taking this lot down will be not hurting them too much…

But then, another teen is there, shoving the one who’d held the knife backward, standing between him and Sara and Len. He’s shabby like the others, but not quite as disreputable-looking, somehow, and there are a few other kids lingering around with him, like they’re letting him take the lead.

Len, who’s still scowling mightily and holding Sara’s wrist, snaps out, “Who the hell are you?”

“Jack Kelly,” the boy—the young man--tosses over his shoulder. “Get outta here, you two. You OK, ma’am?”

“I’m fine,” Sara grits out, even as she knows she’s not. If she doesn’t get back to Waverider, there could well be damage, especially since the blade had been quite dirty. Infection doesn’t respect League training. “Thanks.”

“Don’ mention it.” The young man eyes his opponents, then yells, “Scrapper!”, nodding as another, younger boy steps up.

“Make sure ‘dose bundles stay here,” he orders, then glances back at Sara and Len. “We’ll make sure these papers don’ get out.” His sharp gaze sharpens a little more as she eyes him. “Yeah, I get it. You got some reason not to want dese to spread. And you don’t seem like the ‘oh, my husband’s in da police news’ type…call it instinct. You helped dose kids: you didn’t have to pay ‘em extra, but you did. We’ll help you.”

Len nods back, and Sara gets the impression he recognizes a kindred spirit. “Got it,” he clips out himself. “Thanks.” Then, switching his grip to Sara’s good wrist and catching her eye, he tugs it.

And with one more glance at the standoff behind them, they’re gone.

“You get to the medbay,” Len tells her as soon as they’ve made it back to the Waverider, parked on a New York City rooftop. “That looked bad. I’ll check on Mick and Ray, and the others.”

Sara wants to argue, but the handkerchief is soaked through now and her wrist hurts like bloody hell. She nods, and they split, Len to the bridge, Sara to medbay.

Gideon, once her sensors have gotten a good look at the wound, reports that nothing too important (in other words, tendons: Sara knows perfectly well she’d already have bled out if an artery had been hit) has been damaged, but the injury’s in desperate need of cleaning. Sara settles in to let the medbay tech do so, sighing and closing her eyes as the wound is numbed.

The process also has a soporific effect, and the next thing she knows, she opens her eyes at a sound to see Len not quite rushing in the doorway. He relaxes as he sees her, slowing to a saunter to make his way across the room at a more leisurely pace.

“I told you she was fine,” Gideon’s voice tells him somewhat tartly. “I was not going to wake her up just to assuage your paranoia or your distrust of my assurances.”

“Forgive me, G,” Len tells the annoyed AI smoothly, eyes still on Sara. “I’m an…evidenced-based…guy, myself. I trust you, just had to see for myself.” He pauses right at the bedside…well, chairside, since she hadn’t reclined the seat. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Sara repeats, amused, studying him and then glancing at her arm, still wrapped into one of the medsleeves used for minor (and sometimes more major) repairs. “Gideon? Am I done?”

“You are, Captain Lance.” The AI still sounds slightly irritated, although a little mollified by Len’s apology. “The wound is clean, and the edges are sealed. Keep it wrapped and try not to use that hand too much for a little while, but it should be fine.”

“At least it’s my off hand,” Sara murmurs, gently pulled her arm out and studying the thin new scar there. “Thanks, Gideon. Seriously. That knife was filthy.”

“There were indeed some dangerous bacteria in the wound.” Definitely mollified now. “You are forgiven, Mr. Snart. Worry is a very human trait.”

It may be, but Sara also notices that Gideon no longer even pretends to act like she’s not capable of hurt feelings or irritation. Smiling, she gets to her feet, but Len’s standing so close that she has to halt right there, studying his expression.

“You were worried?” she says after a moment.

A slight smile, but the way he glances away tells her more than any words. “Well, as you said, that was filthy,” he murmurs. “And you were really bleeding. I was…concerned.”

“Ah.” She studies him. “The others?”

“All well.” He perks up a little. “Amaya said her group is dealing with things just fine, but it’ll be a little while yet. Unexpected complications.”

“Of course there are.”

“And Ray and Mick say to tell you they have it in hand. They’re working together to utterly confound their ‘bosses’ until the time comes.” He snickers. “They’re having fun with it. Ray’s a little surprised to see what a good writer Mick is.”

Len, however, isn’t, Sara notices. “Good,” though, is all she says. “So…it’ll be a little while?”

“Until they’re back? At least a day, for Amaya and crew. Longer for the others.” He blinks at her…then narrows his eyes. “At least a day.”

“And our part is done.” Sara licks her lips. “Gideon? Is it?”

“Very few of the limited editions got out, and Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are now providing the papers with such conflicting and wild information that it will not be effective for the time pirates’ purposes. And they have already left the time period, presuming that they can simply come back and reap the benefits of their warmongering.”

Their eyes meet again.

And then Len moves a little closer. “I think you need to go rest. In your room.”

“I need to go rest,” Sara agrees, looking up at him. “In my room.”

They stare at each other.

Then, moving just slowly enough that Sara could certainly pull away if she wants to (she doesn’t want to), Len steps forward and sweeps her up into his arms, right off her feet, making her laugh as he turns for the door, heading toward the captain’s quarters she’d taken over not so long ago.

“I can walk!” she tells him mock-sternly, even as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him.

Len smirks at her. “I know. But let me be dramatic.”

“Since when has anyone ever managed to stop you?”

He snickers, but by that time, they’re at her room. Gideon opens the door for them before they even get there, which would be a bit creepy if it wasn’t so handy, given that they’re already kissing as Len moves them over the threshold, and toward the bed.

“Captain Lance? Mr. Snart?”

Len groans as the AI’s voice penetrates his consciousness, rousing him from a sound sleep. Sara burrows into him with a sleepy and annoyed murmur, burying her head in his collarbone, but then sighs, pulling away just a little.

“What?” she says with annoyance laced with concern. Gideon really wouldn’t bother them without reason, Len knows, but that doesn’t mean they want to let reality enter their warm cocoon. (His natural body temp is a little lower than the average, but between the heat they’ve generated and the insulation of the cover, it’s quite cozy.)

“Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are approaching the ship…”

“What?” Sara sits bolt upright, and while the view is lovely, Len’s a little distracted himself, trying to figure out how much time has passed while they were so thoroughly enjoying themselves.

“They brought the jump ship back,” Gideon tells them. “The current timeline is stable and as it should be.” She pauses. “It seems the time pirates found them out much sooner than we anticipated and came to eliminate them. It did not work.”

That’s good, but… Len and Sara both groan. “They didn’t…” Sara starts.

“The pirates are in the custody of the Spanish authorities, rethinking their life choices.” Gideon’s tone might almost hold amusement. “That is Dr. Palmer’s choice of words. Also, one or two may be slightly singed.”

“And there’s Mick’s.” Len sighs. He glances at Sara, who’s eyeing him, and realizes just what she’s thinking. It’s not at all what he’d like her to be thinking. “You want me to get outta here before they can figure out where we are, don’t you?”

She sighs, bringing her legs up to her chest (damnit) and wrapping her arms around them.

“This isn’t how I’d prefer everyone to find out,” she says quietly. “So…yes. Please don’t take it…”

“It’s OK.” He can be patient. He can. Especially if it means a potential future with Sara Lance, and more of the activities in which they’ve spent the past day or so. Peeling back the covers and climbing stark naked out of bed, he hunts down his clothing…then realizes something that might clue any interested observer in. “Crap. Uh. Well, hopefully I can get back to my room before either of them sees me.”

“Hmm.” Well, at least Sara’s watching his little exhibition with that particular mixture of smugness and desire, but she blinks at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have much reason to be wearing 1890s street clothes, let alone such worn ones, around the ship.” Len brandishes his trousers at her. “These aren’t that comfortable.”

Sara’s lips twitch, but she nods as Len, grumbling, pulls the pants on. “I see the problem. Gideon, help Len get back to his room OK? Avoiding the others?”

“I will do my best, but it’s not like Mr. Rory is predictable.” The AI’s tone is frank, and perhaps a little amused.

Len rolls his eyes, buttoning his shirt. “Yeah, yeah. OK.” He pauses a moment, then crosses back to where Sara is watching him and leans in to steal one more, sadly brief, kiss. “See you later.”

She kisses him back, then sighs and pulls away. “Later.”

“They are now on board. Dr. Palmer has asked where you two are. I’ve reported that the captain is in her room…and that you are heading for the galley.” Gideon’s tone is definitely amused. “It is, strictly speaking, true. Your room just happens to be on the way, yes?”

Len rolls his eyes, amused in turn that the AI is showing so much of the personality he’d always suspected she has. “Yes, indeed,” he drawls, picking up the pace. “And where are they?”

“Dr. Palmer is in the library, checking something. Mr. Rory is heading for the galley, but taking a different path, but so…ah…actually…Mr. Snart!”

And then, just before Len gets to his room, Mick rounds the corner ahead of him, pauses, and does a 180 to consider him.

“So. Weird Snart,” he comments, folding his arms. “S’up with the clothes?”

And so much for no one noticing. Len lifts his chin and decides to power through. “I told you to call me Len.”

The other man shrugs. “Sometimes the other name fits more than others,” he mutters. “Gideon said you were headin’ for the galley. Thought it was from yer room. Why’re you runnin’ around in that get-up?”

“I had to…” Don’t hesitate too much. “…to check something.”

Mick stares. “What?”

I could really use a rescue right now, Gideon. His brain (which has not been the organ in charge for the past half-day or so) doesn’t want to remind him of what’s the other direction besides Sara’s quarters. “…in the medbay. A test.”

A frown. “What kinda test?”

Please, Gideon? “Sara…” When Mick’s eyebrows rise abruptly, Len panics and tries to head off any possible misconceptions. “…there were some weird bacteria in her cuts. Just making sure it didn’t show anything odder than expected after Gideon tested it. It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine here now. How are you?”

Mick gapes at him. Len considers, then decides to cut his losses, gives the other man a smirk, and tapping the door, ducks into his room.

With any luck, Mick will just forget the whole thing. Right?

#subterfuge #captain canary #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow

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smolpocketsmonsters · 7 years ago

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A Healer In A Tree

Part One

Elfroot green eyes flicked over those who had been injured in the last werewolf attack on the clan. Those who were surviving their injuries but… they were in so much pain, and there was nothing more he could do beyond wait.

They needed something but the cure was something that Aether didn’t know.

And Zathrian…

Zathrian had been acting particularly odd since the clan arrived in the forest and became trapped there, unable to leave least they face another assaults from the werewolves. He cared about his clan, yes, but Aether couldn’t help but feel that the Keeper was hiding something.

It increasingly nagged at Aether, chewed at him from the inside, but he couldn’t confront the Keeper about it.

He couldn’t because he was an outsider to the clan already, a foreigner even despite still being Dalish, a guest who came to study and help as much as he could. Zathrian’s healing magic was second to none and Aether could only hope to be able to achieve that level of skill in his lifetime, and Zathrian, despite his reluctance, had taught him much.

But the lessons, Zathrian told him yesterday, had come to an end.

The Keeper intended to go into the forest, alone, leaving his First to lead the clan in his absence should he not come back, and Aether was welcome to stay under her approval, to learn from her if she wished.

Zathrian had been gone for hours and Aether lingered by the wounded.

He had done all that he could with what he had, with the plants he had gathered three days ago, and now all he could do was wait and watch.

Quietly, the healer’s gaze slipped over to the bag he had settled among the grass beside the makeshift apothecary table.

Ten potent elfroot potions waited in it, for those who had rescued him in the forest to come back, the bargain he had made in order to get help out of that tree safely, least he try his luck at hopping from tree to tree and hopefully he managed to get closer to the ground without hitting every branch on the way down. An easy way to break every bone in his body and become easy prey to the sylvans and wolves, both were and other.

Instead…

He jumped.

Right into the waiting arms of a man with gorgeous amber eyes.

It was like every cheesy romance novel he had ever skimmed through back in Orlais, at least until his rescuer opened his mouth about the reward all the while looking at him like a meal.

The thought alone made Aether’s face flush with annoyance.

Angrily huffing, the healer started to pace, eyes flicking away from the apothecary table and the makeshift infirmary and out to the rest of the Dalish camp.

The group that had rescued him, Grey Wardens apparently, had other companions that had stayed behind, and much to Aether’s embarrassment, he had a history with one. A short history, just the memory of a night in a tavern, of flirting and drinking and falling into bed with someone tan, and blond, and elven, and Antivan.

Zevran, Aether recalled.

Every time the Antivan met his gaze the last three days since the new group showed up, it was with a playful, knowing smile that made Aether’s ears burn. Thankfully, beyond pleasantries, the topic of their one night was not brought up. They honestly hadn’t expected to see each other again when they parted ways that morning well over a month ago.

Strange to think that it really had been three days since the party of Wardens reentered the forest after escorting him back to the camp, back to safety.

Aether wondered about their safety though…

Then… he felt it.

He and Lanaya and Elora all looked up from what they were doing in unison, eyes rooting to the same spot in the forest, a sudden and sharp pull on the Veil, of something so completely wrapped in magic being unraveled so quickly that only mages would ever sense the event, and perhaps any mage who visited the area would feel it rippling in years to come…

It felt like a violation in and of itself.

And Aether wondered…

About the werewolves.

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

Aether would admit he felt remotely slighted by Zathrian when he returned, the man hording his secrets as he worked on creating the cure that the Wardens helped him collect, all the while urging the healer to focus his attention on the immediate wounded: Aether’s own rescuers.

Strange how he was once again in close quarters with them, not that he terribly minded as he watched the Dalish Warden limp over to the rest of their companion and then flop down onto the ground by their personal fire, groaning as he slowly propped one foot up. Aether had an inkling that something was at least strained, possibly broken, but he didn’t have an opportunity to approach the small subsect of the camp before he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“Aether, was it?”

Black hair and fair skin and amber eyes, just like he recalled.

The only difference now was the fresh and bloody wound on the Circle mage’s face.

“Yes,” Aether answered. “Would you like me to heal that?”

He nodded politely, remaining respectful this time, “I would prefer risking a minor scar than a very visible one,” he stated, “my healing would scar for sure.”

That made one of the healer’s brows raise in curiosity.

A blood mage?

Blood magic was not something Aether personally wanted to touch but some people were different. As long as no harm was done for the sake of malice, he truly couldn’t complain.

“Healing is not always an easy school of magic to grasp,” Aether commented, reaching up and he watched as the other mage winced slightly but stayed as still as he could under the healer’s attention. “When I’m done, you won’t believe you got hurt at all.”

Ather’s confidence seemed to amuse the Warden vaguely. “That’s the attitude.”

“More than attitude is skill.”

After that is silence as they allow the magic to surge into life, gentle and warm and calm and soothing with every stroke of his thumb over the injury, until, finally, Aether retreated and let Vergil wipe the blood from his face while the healer retrieved a shard of mirror from his pack, allowing the mage to see the results.

He was very satisfied with the results, the spot completely bare of any sign that the wound ever existed. Like it never happened. “Perhaps I could repay you for this feat? Would some ancient texts reading interest you?”

An unnecessary offer but one that none the less made Aether’s green eyes light up with interest. “You found some?”

“I did,” he admitted, “they are in surprisingly good condition, unless werewolves started writing their own thesis’.”

A humorous thought, but as much as Aether wanted, he still had a job to do.

“Your companion still needs healing. If the offer still stands when I’m done…”

And he smirked, an expression that was almost second-nature to that face. “It will still stand.”

And it certainly did.

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

Despite the fact that the Wardens now had the Dalish elves as allies to their treaties, the party did not leave the following day as they originally seemed to have planned.

This was because of their Dalish Warden, Tierian Mahariel of the Sabrae clan, who, Aether later realized, was incredibly homesick. This adventure he was on as a Warden was by no choice of his own, in fact he was only a Warden because the alternative was dying. He wanted to stay and soak in the atmosphere of something familiar for just a little bit longer before he would be willing to go back, like a man dying of thirst drinking his fill from an oasis before pushing on once again.

Their stay had many benefits.

Their bard, Leliana, was able to learn Dalish stories from Sarel. Morrigan was curious about the people as well. Zevran wanted to indulge in some leisure. And Vergil Surana had some ancient texts that he was getting help translating with the help of the wandering Dalish healer.

Only Alistair seemed to be eager to get going.

But he was easily outvoted and easy to pacify with good quality halla cheese.

Besides, Tierian said, it was just for a few days.

And for the first couple days, Vergil and Aether often sat together, pouring over the texts, the healer translating what he recognized and also asking questions about the Circle, which Vergil expressed that the Circle really was only good for the book collection it had. Aether had never seen a true library before, and it made him even more curious.

It was the forest that eventually called to Aether, safer now than it had been before, and he asked Vergil to show him the places he had told him of, the tombstones and the ruins, the Grand Old Oak, and the hermit’s home. There was knowledge to be learned and knowledge to share, and if there was anything that the two of them both seemed to thrive for in equal measure, it was just that: knowledge.

The forest was alive with noise, no longer silent from the threat of the werewolves, and Aether was grateful for the peace that it brought with it, the scent of river-silt rich in the air as they neared the source. He collected plants along the way, tucked neatly into pouches for later care when they returned. It would take days for them to explore all the places that Vergil mentioned, and it didn’t bother Aether.

It was the sound of quick feet that drew Aether’s attention from his most recently picked plant, and Vergil’s eyes met his only briefly before a set of wolves burst out from the bushes, fangs bared and ready to do damage.

But they were not helpless.

It was lightning and ice in the background of Aether’s mind as he concentrated, tugging at strands of Fade beneath the ground like spiderwebs, seeping his control into the roots and earth itself before he pulled and the very nature that surrounded him became his own weapon, wrapping around those they captured like pythons before crushing them and dragging them down to feed the floral.

And when it was quiet, Aether looked up, and found Vergil’s eyes on him, muted surprise on his face.

And a playful smile made itself at home on Aether’s lips.

“Can’t let my brave Warden rescuer have all the fun, now can I?”

#a healer in a tree #vergil surana #warden surana #aether #aether alerion #aetherius alerion #vergil x aether #icylook #icy-warden

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chuchoose · 5 years ago

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I didn’t use a prompt for this one and now I don’t know what to call it #01

The wizard sank to his knees, his legs having finally given way. He will die here, he thought. Rather, he would die here, were it not for this infernal curse. He swayed with the sirocco winds that buffeted him seemingly from all angles. His hands twitched in old practice, trying to summon old arcane threads that had long since gone barren. The hum of the world rang in his ears but he could no longer find an answer to it in himself. All he could find was that his heart felt weak, like it had barely a beat at all. All he could find was that his breathing was shallow, like his lungs had withered. Then he could find nothing, as his vision darkened and the wizard collapsed face first into the sand while dreaming he would not wake up this time.

When the wizard’s eyes fluttered awake, he was greeted not by the desert sun pounding into them, but the cool shade of tarp and tent. His whole body ached and burned and seethed. The wizard tried to crane his neck forward to see what had become of his form, but the stabbing pain in his neck convinced him otherwise. He groaned and let his head fall back into the thin pillow beneath it. It was more comfort than he deserved, he thought.

The tent’s flap cracked open. Whoever had peered in was too short for the wizard to see from where he lay. As the tent’s flap fell closed, the wizard was able to pick out the sound of tiny footfalls on sand and a young voice calling out, “Dad! He’s awake!”

It was only a few moments later when a hulking man came into the tent. He was wrapped entirely in loose white fabrics faded by the sun and sand and he towered over the wizard flat on his back. Dusting off his hands with two loud claps, the wide-shouldered and well-muscled man began to unravel his travelling clothes. He removed his head cover to reveal a handsomely chiseled jaw, and his robes held tight around his shoulders to frame his rippling, sun-kissed chest. His face seemed perpetually in beaming and warm smile with the smile lines to prove it.

He gave a loud huff as fathers do when getting up from a comfy seat or falling into one, folding his legs into a crouch on the cool sand next to the wizard. The man leaned over to pick up a nearby mortar and pestle that looked small in his great hands, and began crushing something.

“Good morning, traveller.”

The wizard thought the man had meant to whisper, but it seemed a man of such stature was not well versed in something so diminutive.

“Happy to see you wake, though, I must say, you chose an interesting place to rest. I was surprised to find you still breathing when Lu brought me to you.”

The wizard made to reply, but he forgot himself. Only a dry rasp escaped his withered lips.

The man clapped a palm against his forehead. “Right! Of course!” He pulled a waterskin from the folds of his robe. He popped the cap and held it gently to the wizard’s lips. The water felt coarse, as did everything in this desert, but he was refreshed all the same. When the waterskin was pulled back, the wizard smacked his lips. His saviour looked on expectantly.

“Thank you,” the wizard said.

Relief washed over the man’s face as he replaced the waterskin into his robes. He picked the mortar up and returned to crushing whatever was within. The fragrances that blossomed from the mixture smelled much too sweet for this desolate place.

“Think nothing of it!” the man boomed. “In the Burning Seas, good people have to look out for each other! The desert surely won’t!”

The wizard’s face dropped at this. Lower than it normally was, somehow. He focused on a single phrase. Good people, he thought. Good people have to look out for each other. The wizard turned to the giant of a man. “... Your name?” the wizard asked.

Again, he clapped a hand to his forehead. “My manners! Apologies! I am Bo’lu, a merchant. In name, at least.” The edges of Bo’lu’s smile dropped slightly at this, before he managed to find his smile again. “But my friends call me Bo.”

“I am…” The wizard’s voice caught and Bo reached into his robe to produce his waterskin again. The wizard shook his head, slight though it was, and Bo returned to crushing. “I am Andar.”

“Andar!” Bo laughed without looking up. “You have a wizard’s name!”

They both went still.

“You’re a wizard!”

Andar couldn’t help the smirk that escaped at the edge of his lips for Bo’s surprise. Andar nodded, again, slightly. Bo stopped crushing. He stared in awe for a long moment, mouth agape. He laughed. “By the Sun and Sand, I never thought I’d meet a wizard. What’s such a learned fellow like you doing out so far and so weathered?”

The question was innocent, without the venom Andar normally heard in them, but he winced all the same. Recognition flashed across Bo’s face.

“I’ve misspoken! Please put the question from your mind.” Bo finally set the pestle aside and dipped a pair of fingers into the freshly crushed salve. It shimmered green on his fingertips and smelled of honeys and fruit. Andar should have recognized the scents immediately. Goes to show how long and far he has wandered from his studies. Andar knew of this healing balm and knew it was a potent mixture. But... daggerfruit doesn’t grow anywhere near the Burning Sea and finding an ember hive in the dunes was nearly impossible, even for the most skilled wayfinders.

“Where… did you procure the ingredients for this…?”

“Do not worry. I found them so they would be used.”

Andar bit his lip at this. Bo’s kindness would cost him and Andar could not stand for it (figuratively, but also, he supposed, literally). Heat in Andar’s body swelled, and his voice along with it. “I cannot let you use such fine things on a soul so wretched as me.”

“Nonsense,” Bo chided as he leaned in to rub the balm onto Andar’s chest. “Wretched,” he chuckled. “You are no more wretched than -” Andar mustered all the strength he could and grabbed Bo’s wrist to stop him. Andar’s whole arm flared with pain to do so, but he did it. It was foolish, though, he realized. Even if the Burning Sea had not almost destroyed him, made his whole body scream to do what little in this moment, Bo was a hardier and stronger man than Andar had ever been. Andar couldn’t have stopped Bo on his best day without his magic and how far away were his good days now?

Regardless, Bo relented. He fell back onto his folded legs. His eyes dropped and his smile fell. “I am sorry. I did not mean to touch you without your permission.”

Andar felt his cheeks flush and his guts turn. That wasn’t it, the wizard thought. Far from it, but that wasn’t something he could so easily say. Instead, Andar released Bo’s wrist.

“Y-your kindness flatters me,�� Andar mumbled

“No.” Bo shook his head. “I was too forward and presumed too much. Please, let me use this balm on you. Your burns are severe and the sand has ravaged you. It will help you feel better. If not, I can leave it at your side so you may apply it yourself when you are feeling more capable.”

Andar gulped. “I-it’s alright,” the wizard stammered. “I know this admixture. It is most potent when fresh. Please help me apply it.”

Bo nodded. Solemnly, quietly, he dipped his fingers into the green paste and pressed the balm into Andar’s chest. The salve was cool to the touch and he couldn’t help but shiver. That was the daggerfruit’s numbing effects, Andar convinced himself. As Bo spread the salve around, he lifted the folds of Andar’s robes, too, so that even the areas at the edge of the fabric’s protection were soothed. Bo then rubbed the balm into his own palms and wrapped them around Andar’s arms and legs, being sure to neglect not an inch of Andar’s flesh that had been exposed to the elements. Andar couldn’t stop thinking about how big Bo’s hands were and how small he felt in them as they wrapped around his body one limb at a time.

The balm’s effects were taking full effect. His whole body seemed to loosen and feelings besides burning returned all over. Now he only ached. He clenched and unclenched his fingers and curled and uncurled his toes. He tried to push himself to sit up, but his arm gave way underneath him and he toppled backwards only slightly before Bo caught him in his python-like arms. The rest of Bo’s robe fell away in the sudden motion, exposing his rippling chest in its entirety. By reflex, Bo had pulled Andar close to help keep him righted, and now Andar could feel his own breath warm against Bo’s chest. Gently, Bo released Andar from his embrace and left his hand with fingers splayed wide on Andar’s back to help the wizard stay upright. Again, Andar’s face flushed bright red.

“Are you alright?” Bo asked, worried. He held his other hand to Andar’s forehead. “You look red, but your temperature seems normal.” Andar began to feel dizzy and he pitched over only to be caught by Bo again. Gently, still, Bo replaced Andar onto his back, making sure his head landed softly on the thin pillow. “Maybe it is best you lie down. Build your strength.”

Andar nodded. Perhaps that would be best. “Thank you,” Andar rasped.

Bo blinked in surprise. He pulled his robes back up and produced his waterskin to offer Andar. Andar nodded and Bo held the waterskin to his lips again. “You need not thank me. I did only what anyone else would.” Bo capped the water and put it away. “Rest. Be well. We can figure out how to help you get where you need to go once you are better.” Bo rewrapped his fabrics and left.

Not long after, the tent flap opened again. This time, however, Andar managed to crane forward enough to see the little visitor. The little boy stared at Andar with wide eyes from between the folds of his child-sized travelling robes. Andar fell back onto the pillow and he could hear the flap close and tiny footfalls on sand approach him. He turned his head sideways and stared up at the boy, not as great in stature as Bo, but everyone towered over Andar in this state. The little boy pulled his head wrapping down to reveal a little nose and full cheeks. Though Bo had said he was a merchant in name only, his party seemed well-fed. What little business they did must pay well enough.

The little boy probably had no such considerations, however. The only thing on the little boy’s mind was easy to identify by the starry eyed stare now fixed on Andar. “... Are you a wizard?” the boy asked.

Slowly, Andar nodded. The awe that had stricken Bo’s face recreated itself in miniature on the boy’s. “My name’s Lu. My dad’s the one who carried you here.”

Andar imagined his body limp in Bo’s arms and he felt his whole body tingle. The balm’s effects must still be going strong, he lied. “Your father is Bo’lu?”

Lu nodded. “He says everyone just calls him Bo, though.”

Andar nodded. “That’s what he told me, as well.”

“That makes sense.”

They were quiet. Lu just kept staring at Andar like a beast in the Secret Keep’s menagerie, but it was a look he had long grown accustomed to while travelling.

Lu shakes his head. “Sorry, my dad says it’s rude to stare.”

“It’s alright.”

“I’ve never seen a wizard before.”

“Not many have.”

“Can you do magic?”

Andar makes a fist, trying to feel the tension of the arcane threads at his fingertips, but they stayed slack. He listened for the hum of the world and it was a tune he knew, but not one he could answer. “Sometimes,” Andar eventually answered.

“How come?”

“Lu!” It was Bo’s voice. Andar was quietly grateful to have lost the child’s attention.

“Dad?” Lu called back.

Bo poked back in through the tent’s flap. Beneath his fabrics, Andar could sense Bo’s frown. “Leave the nice man to his rest, son. When he’s feeling better, maybe you can talk with him then.”

Lu nodded and turned back to Andar. “Sorry to bother you,” Lu replied sullenly.

“It was no bother at all. Thank you for the company.”

“Any time!” Lu’s face picked itself up back into a smile and the boy ran over to his father and slipped around him with ease. Bo pulled down his face cover enough so that Andar could see he was mouthing the words ‘thank you’ before replacing it and chasing after his son.

Andar sighed and stared up at the tent’s ceiling. Truly, this was much nicer than he deserved.

---

Andar had been left alone for the rest of the day. When nightfall came, Andar had strength enough to bring himself back up to his feet. He tested his weight on each leg. The balm really was very strong. He felt now as if he hadn’t spent a single day in the Burning Sea. He felt as good as new. Andar clenched his fist and felt nothing he was looking for. Almost as good as new, he corrected.

Slowly, he tipped open the tent’s flap. The camp was quiet. He looked out a circle of tents all facing inwards to a long since extinguished fire pit. Some tents had the glow of lanterns and candles peeking out from within, but there were no people to see. Few could handle the freezing nighttime temperatures of the Sea.

This was convenient for Andar, of course, and by design. He had waited until he heard what sounded like the last of the camp retire to the safety and warmth of their tents before he had made his move. He heard the occasional shifting of sand, but whether that was the wind on the dunes or the restlessness of sleepers was all the same to him, because neither would stop him.

Andar wrapped his tattered robes tight around his chest and stole away into the night. He was used to this, he thought. He knew how little protection his robes provided. He had lost count of how many days and nights he had wandered through these sands to know that this night would be no easier than any other. The desert does not care that it almost killed you. It does not care that you survived. The desert only is, and the desert is without malice as much as it is without compassion.

He had travelled too far and long, however, when he finally heard the tiny footfalls in the sand behind him over the cold desert winds and he felt his stomach drop. Andar froze. He turned. There was little Lu plodding after him. Then Lu tripped into the sand face first. Andar raced back to help Lu up, but he had already righted himself before he got there. “Little one,” Andar began. “You should not be here.”

“N-neither should you,” Lu chattered back from behind chittering teeth. The boy was shaking like his whole body was a guitar string plucked. The boy’s robes may be well suited for the heat, but the cold desert nights were a different song entirely.

Andar scooped up the boy in his arms and held him tight to his chest. He wrapped as much of his robe around the boy as he was able. “You’re right,” Andar breathed, the cold cutting through him even worse now that he had opened his robe to let the boy in. “Let’s get us back to your father.” And so they made their way back, but each step took everything Andar had. Tonight somehow seemed colder than every night before it. He could feel his heart beating fast, but the rest of him felt too slow. He didn’t know how much farther they had to get back to the camp. Then his step faltered. He fell forward and took a knee, struggling to stay righted. The horror of the thought dawned on him: he was going to die here. Or he would, were it not for the curse, except this time he wasn’t alone, and this time, if he died here now, it wouldn’t be only him who would pay the price.

But what else could a dying man do? His chest felt tight. His breathing was sharp. His vision was as dark as the night sky around him. He keeled over to protect the boy from as much of the elements as he could. As his consciousness faded, he could only just barely hear the sound of heavy footfalls in the sand and Lu’s cries to his father.

---

When Andar awoke, he stared up not at the desert night sky, but the cool shade of tarp and tent. He had been wrapped tightly in furs and fabrics and was now sweating profusely under the ambient heat of the desert around him, despite how cool the tent kept him. His whole body felt stiff, but warm, and, if he were being honest, safe, until a snore like a thunderstorm had gotten stuck in a scroll case shook him from the reverie. Andar turned to see Bo slouched against one of the tent’s support poles, his son wrapped in his arms on his lap. As Andar shifted under the weight of the furs, Bo stirred awake. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and released a great yawn.

“G’morning, traveller,” Bo said mid-yawn. Bo gave him a weary and tired smile. “Happy to see you wake, though, I must say, you chose an interesting place to rest.”

Andar sat upright and shrugged a few of the heavier furs off his shoulders.

“Bo, I apologize; I didn’t know Lu was following me-” Andar began, but Bo cut him off.

“Lu already told me what happened. It’s not your fault that Lu leaps before he looks, but I want to know what would possess someone in your condition to try and wander the Burning Sea at night. To do so is a death sentence by most caravans and you walked it of your own choosing.”

Andar went quiet. Meekly, he mumbled, “It is because of my condition.”

“I’m sorry?” Bo’s voice rose, the confusion at its edges tetting with frustration. He didn’t get it. How could he?

“What do you know of the wizard Andar? What do you know of wizards?”

Bo was silent. Bo’s first reaction to Andar’s identity said that they both knew he didn’t know much.

Andar continued. “Wizard names are an inheritance, as you may know, passed down from mentors to students who carry on the study of the generation before.” Bo nodded. This he knew. “Do you know the study of the Andars?” Bo shook his head. “We are cursed with eternity, good merchant. We cannot die. We study the line between life and death.”

The words hung in the air like daggers trained on both of them. Andar could tell Bo was piecing it all together in his head, understanding better now how Andar had acted when he had first come to. He closed his eyes tightly as the realization of what his kindness cost him.

“I’m sorry,” Andar whispered. “Truly. I did not mean to accost you, inconvenience your business, or put your son in harm’s way. You must understand-”

Bo raised an arresting finger and Andar’s words sputtered quiet. He stroked his chin in contemplation, and Andar saw his hug around his son with his remaining arm tighten. Bo took two long, deep breaths. Finally, he asked, “If Andars can’t die, how did you receive the name?”

Andar screwed his face into a tight lipped grimace. “He asked me to take it,” he began as tears welled in his eyes, “He asked me and - and I wanted to help. I am - was - a doctor; I wanted to make the pain go away. There was nothing else I could do for his aging; no magic that could undo time, and… he asked me to…” His voice caught in quiet sobs. “I’m sorry. I let you… I should have stopped you. I should have been more careful when I left. All of this is my fault. I’m sorry. I’m - ”

Bo hushed him quiet. Bo got up from his slouch and came over to Andar, rocking Lu as he did to be sure not to wake him. He sat next Andar and put his remaining great arm around Andar’s shoulder. Bo pulled him tight while careful not to jostle Lu too much. At his touch, Andar’s tears flowed freely, and he could muster nothing but sobs and sorries and Bo just let the wizard, so small beneath his arm, cry his heart out. Bo knew apologies were more for the person making them than the people they were given to. He just kept Andar tight beneath the crook of him until his sobbing had settled into sniffles.

“... I’m sorry,” Andar repeated. “I’m really sorry.”

Bo sighed. “It’s nothing to apologize for.” Andar made to protest, but Bo just gave him a squeeze and Andar let himself be pacified by the warmth of it. “It doesn’t matter that you can’t die. You see someone in pain, you help them. You understand that better than anyone.” And Andar started crying all over again. Bo waited this out, too. It seemed Andar had spent a long time apologizing just like this, he thought. And it seemed to him that Andar had done much of his apologizing alone.

Eventually, Andar calmed down again. Now he rested his head against Bo’s chest. Slowly, Bo stroked the sandy mess that was Andar’s hair and Bo could feel a shiver make its way through the whole of Andar’s body. “Those components,” Andar murmured. “I can replace them. I can find a way to pay you back.”

Again, Bo sighs. “Kindness need not be repaid. I gave them to you willingly. You do not owe me.”

“And I return the favour willingly,” Andar pouted. “Kindness need not be repaid, but it can be repaid in kind.” Certainty returned to Andar’s voice in more strength than he had ever heard it in spite of the way it warbled post-cry.

Bo chuckled softly. The laughter made his chest bounce against Andar’s head and Andar could feel the heat in his face rise. “Well, I suppose you got me there.” Then Bo thought. “Say, how long have you been wandering the Sea? And what were you doing here? And…” Then Bo stopped, considering if there was a better way to put it. “How does magic work?”

Andar flexed his fingers that splayed across Bo’s chest, feeling for the arcane threads that tied him to the magic of the world. They felt slack until he managed a fist and the strings went taught. He relaxed his hand again. He listened, and the hum of the world seemed to soak through his chest and he almost opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself. He smiled and felt himself sink into Bo’s embrace. He could feel the desert sun just on the other side of this tent and how it wanted to bleach his bones dead. But he also felt his heart slow, like a lullaby. He felt his breath hot, like something alive and so so far from death. His vision fluttered dark and he dreamed of waking up.

#word count: 3900 #yehaw i edited it and its still pretty whack #no prompt

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