#castti: good thing i didn't sleep with him

[blahblahblahviolentpain]

My brother pointed this out to me and I couldn’t not draw it

[beantothemax]

Rain poured on the woods in a seemingly endless torrential downpour. H'aanit had often spoken of how wet early autumn was in the Woodlands but Castti did not believe it until she saw it herself. She doubted the rains of Osterra could match storms she had seen atop mount Liphia, but she was wrong to assume less of the Woodlands.

"Castti!" a lovely, truly concerned voice called out.

Castti turned on the log she sat upon, a soft smile adorning her lips at the sight of her beloved.

"Aren thee alright?" H'aanit took off her fur and placed it upon Castti's shoulders, "Comen, or thou willst acquiren some ailment."

"The rain's nice."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Perhaps H'aanit thought she was delirious. Castti hadn't enjoyed even the sight of gathering clouds in months, what changed? As they returned to S'warkii, the rain only continued. Each blink of her eyes seemed to last an hour. Castti tripped as she began to slip into a deep slumber.

"Oh Dreafendi, why do thee push thyself to thy limits?" H'aanit sighed.

She took Castti in her arms, wondering why she had once more deprived herself of sleep. So often would Castti reprimand her for hunting late into the night but wouldn't even acknowledge that she had herself had hardly slept in days.

It was a mystery how long she slept. The last thing she remembered was the pouring rain and now she was in bed at home. A fire crackled in the hearth and Linde purred nearby. Still, a sound more pleasant reached Castti's ears. H'aanit hummed and sang as she cooked.

Castti did not dare move, she only listened as H'aanit sang an old folk song that she hardly understood. The language of the Woodlands was one Castti struggled to learn, but she tried nonetheless. Anything for H'aanit.

"Leave some crops behind, the paupers and the birds must also eat," was just about all Castti caught.

"A little late for a harvest song," she said.

H'aanit's rhythmic stirring slowed to a stop, "Thou art awake."

She was by Castti's side in an instant, pressing a gentle hand to her forehead.

"Fever."

"You're getting good at identifying illnesses, I could retire soon, you're good enough to replace me," Castti giggled.

"Now ist not a time for antics, I am worried for thee."

"... I promise, I'm fine."

H'aanit returned to the kitchen, setting plates out on the table. She helped Castti stand, careful to hold her when they sat.

Castti could hardly keep her eyes open as she ate. Each bite was amazing, but she was still so drowsy. The stew had been so lovingly made by someone who only wanted to see her happy and healthy.

"I wanted to asken something of thee."

"Go ahead."

"Thou detesten the rain, but stayed outside for hours. Why ist that?"

She paused and sat silent longer than she cared to admit. She wandered out into that rain because all she could think of was Trousseau. Lovely memories of teaching him about medicine and watching as he cared for Sally and Temm had returned to here.

A part of her regretted how she killed him. He was only a grieving man who was in way over his head. Had someone asked what was wrong, it was possible he would still be alive and it was possible he could be a wonderful apothecary.

But another part of her knew it wasn't her fault for inaction either. Claude was a manipulative monster and Trousseau would stop at nothing his father, even just once. It didn't matter what Castti did, his life would still come to a bitter end atop Timberain castle.

H'aanit cradled her in her arms, humming as she rocked back and forth.

"I miss Trousseau," Castti murmured.

"I know, dear. But resten now, the rain hath hurt thee."

wah,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, the them……… pie this is so sweet melting as I type this.,,,..,..,..,.,

cabsti,,,, h’aanti…………..

[da-millerrrrr]

I'm going to bed. Chew on this in my absence.

Rain poured on the woods in a seemingly endless torrential downpour. H'aanit had often spoken of how wet early autumn was in the Woodlands but Castti did not believe it until she saw it herself. She doubted the rains of Osterra could match storms she had seen atop mount Liphia, but she was wrong to assume less of the Woodlands.

"Castti!" a lovely, truly concerned voice called out.

Castti turned on the log she sat upon, a soft smile adorning her lips at the sight of her beloved.

"Aren thee alright?" H'aanit took off her fur and placed it upon Castti's shoulders, "Comen, or thou willst acquiren some ailment."

"The rain's nice."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Perhaps H'aanit thought she was delirious. Castti hadn't enjoyed even the sight of gathering clouds in months, what changed? As they returned to S'warkii, the rain only continued. Each blink of her eyes seemed to last an hour. Castti tripped as she began to slip into a deep slumber.

"Oh Dreafendi, why do thee push thyself to thy limits?" H'aanit sighed.

She took Castti in her arms, wondering why she had once more deprived herself of sleep. So often would Castti reprimand her for hunting late into the night but wouldn't even acknowledge that she had herself had hardly slept in days.

It was a mystery how long she slept. The last thing she remembered was the pouring rain and now she was in bed at home. A fire crackled in the hearth and Linde purred nearby. Still, a sound more pleasant reached Castti's ears. H'aanit hummed and sang as she cooked.

Castti did not dare move, she only listened as H'aanit sang an old folk song that she hardly understood. The language of the Woodlands was one Castti struggled to learn, but she tried nonetheless. Anything for H'aanit.

"Leave some crops behind, the paupers and the birds must also eat," was just about all Castti caught.

"A little late for a harvest song," she said.

H'aanit's rhythmic stirring slowed to a stop, "Thou art awake."

She was by Castti's side in an instant, pressing a gentle hand to her forehead.

"Fever."

"You're getting good at identifying illnesses, I could retire soon, you're good enough to replace me," Castti giggled.

"Now ist not a time for antics, I am worried for thee."

"... I promise, I'm fine."

H'aanit returned to the kitchen, setting plates out on the table. She helped Castti stand, careful to hold her when they sat.

Castti could hardly keep her eyes open as she ate. Each bite was amazing, but she was still so drowsy. The stew had been so lovingly made by someone who only wanted to see her happy and healthy.

"I wanted to asken something of thee."

"Go ahead."

"Thou detesten the rain, but stayed outside for hours. Why ist that?"

She paused and sat silent longer than she cared to admit. She wandered out into that rain because all she could think of was Trousseau. Lovely memories of teaching him about medicine and watching as he cared for Sally and Temm had returned to here.

A part of her regretted how she killed him. He was only a grieving man who was in way over his head. Had someone asked what was wrong, it was possible he would still be alive and it was possible he could be a wonderful apothecary.

But another part of her knew it wasn't her fault for inaction either. Claude was a manipulative monster and Trousseau would stop at nothing his father, even just once. It didn't matter what Castti did, his life would still come to a bitter end atop Timberain castle.

H'aanit cradled her in her arms, humming as she rocked back and forth.

"I miss Trousseau," Castti murmured.

"I know, dear. But resten now, the rain hath hurt thee."

CASTTI AND THE RAIN. H'AANIT CARING ABOUT HER. JUST. ALL OF THIS. AAIUFHHHHHHGGHH PIE YOUR WRITINF IS ALWAYS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK!!!!!!

[taoofshigeru]

What Else To Do But Talk? (Partitio Yellowil x Ori)

Partitio and Ori spend time at a tavern. (~2200 words)

A sequel to this fic, with the same warning. Giga-turbo Octopath Traveler 2 endgame spoilers ahead!

-----

Since Ori came to, the two of them had spent a lot of time not talking.

Which was good because she had no idea how she was going to elucidate on any of this.

Partitio was just always there. He was a familiar grip on her hand, a glass of water or a flip for her pillow when she did find the few words needed to ask for it. And whenever he wasn't, that apothecary Castti wasn't fussing over her wound, changing her bandages or making sure she swallowed all her medicine.

And so her body got better. She felt her strength returning by the day, but it didn't to much to alleviate the pit in the bottom of her stomach. Her sins were many, and they were not going away just because one woman stuck hard to a policy of treating the sick until they weren't and one man was nicer to her than she had any right to expect.

Still, she didn't think about leaving. Not after that first talk with Partitio. She remembered being held in his arms, crying like she never had in her entire life. And the walls in her heart, walls she had built up with a lot of training and practice in information warfare, had crumbled into so many hills of sand. It made it hard to find some things, mentally.

But it also made her more open, or at least less resistant, to new things. So when Castti told her she was ready for some outside air, and later when showed up with a modest pink dress with a frilly white collar that happened to be Ori's size, she found herself shrugging and getting changed.

"Remember, she's ready for walking, but she still needs to be treated with care." Castti, who now had six other patients in Oresrush to attend to but was still fussing over Ori's outfit, had been insistent that no patient of hers would go out in Partito's old rags. "She's back to sleep in her bed tonight, or we'll be having words, young man."

"Yup, nothin' to worry about there." Partitio, her escort for the night, was cordial and chipper about the whole thing. "Lookin' pretty good there, Ori."

"Uh, okay?" She was feeling light-headed already. "Are we really going out for dinner? You should know, I don't even have a leaf to my name."

"Aw shucks, I guess ya lost my calling card." He fished around in his pocket and came out with a single silver leaf. "But since we're already friends, I'm happy to put up a spare."

"Your business card." She smiled and clutched the single silver leaf in one hand, gripping it so, so tightly. "That's so like you. You took a mildly maladroit misunderstanding and turned it into yet another one of those ridiculously charming things you do without even trying!"

"Aw shucks." She must've imagined him getting flushed a little in the flickering light by the doorframe. "Follow me, we're goin' out for a change of pace." He held out his hand, callused from years of mine labor.

She gripped the merchant's hand with hers and let him pull her along the town's main street…

…

She ended up following him to a tavern.

It was a well-kept place in a corner of town, off the main street but not too far off. Partitio was met with cheers as he walked in, as well as questions about his cute lady friend. He smiled and deflected him, just about as shy as Ori had remembered him. Everything she learned about this man had reinforced her two initial impressions. One, he absolutely was this kind. Two, he absolutely was this cool.

They reached the table, and one of the barmaids came by to get their order. Partitio got a mug of hops-brewed stuff from the Conning Creek Distillery. Ori settled for plum juice. She wasn't much of a drinker, anyhow.

They made small talk until the drinks arrived. After her first sip, she opened with the question that had been bothering her ever since she woke up. "I guess you got to my brother before he made it to Vidania, huh?"

"Aw, no, that eagleboro fella' succeeded all right. Tossed," He coughed his throat loudly, "lit off the flame and called Vide down."

"Oh." She felt really small all of a sudden. "So Vide must've hurt a lot more people." She took a sip of her mug of plum juice to avoid talking. To avoid considering all that extra suffering that now lay at her feet. She took a big quaff in the hopes that downing it might buy her more time than a sip would.

"Nah, me'n the friends got there first. Handled it 'fore it got outta hand." He shrugged.

Ori spat out her entire mouthful of plum juice.

"You're telling me you BEAT Vide?" Purple liquid was dripping down her cheeks, and all over the table. But she was too shocked, too flabbergasted to care. "You're telling me your chummy cadre of compatriots gobsmacked the god of shadow? In a fight?"

"Hehe, whew there, Ori." Partitio, now soaked in purple fruit juice, fanned himself with his hat. "Sure, Vide was a tough hunk of evil, purpler than this here plum juice. But he wasn't nothin' the eight of us couldn't take on together." There was that grin, that gods-damned grin she had fallen so hard for. "I could tell ya the fun story. Give ya a scoop?"

She leaned in close, arms reaching down to pull out a notebook that was, of course, nowhere in her pocket. "You have to tell me how this happened!" Fumbling around, she grabbed one of the white napkins off the table. Partitio handed her a pen from out of his pocket, and she began scribbling furiously.

"So the first thing that happened was Castti poked 'em right in the eye with a spear. And then…"

…

"So then I told 'em." He leaned in with a conspiratorial tone. "Ya know, if you're gonna take over the world, plunge it into shadow or whatnot, don't ya think you'll be needin' a solid base of funds?"

"And he just, listened?"

"Well, not at first. He tried to cast a spell that would'a turned me into a statue, but Throné had me covered and it just rockified a few of his scales instead. And I kept talkin', outlinin' the case for why that fella might just wanna have twenty thousand clams in the back pocket. And there was a lotta maniacal laughin', a lotta 'The Night Will Claim You'," His voice hit a falsetto for the impression.

"Pfft!" Ori had no idea whether the impersonation was accurate, but she knew she found it funny. "Go on, you boisterous buckaroo." She was still furiously taking notes. With the borrowed pen on yet another napkin.

"But I could tell I was talkin' my way into it. Then later on, big guy was windin' up with a punch that woulda knocked Temenos and Osvald eight hundred leagues underwater. And ya know what I said?"

"Ohh, what?"

"Fifty thousand leaves will buy you a mighty fine torture dungeon." He chuckled. "And I just plopped 'em down on the other side of the dais and gave big purple this look."

Ori stared at him in dubious disbelief. "And Vide just, went over there to grab it? Skipped the whole attack."

"That he did. Ate the money like candy, too, which I ain't never seen before and don't plan on seein' again." He lifted his flass to take a drink and realized it was empty. "The mercs I hired were kinda sour about whole thing. Fair's fair, guess it kinda cut inta their salary." He cast the mug aside and shrugged innocently. "Next thing ya know, Osvald's back on his feet, stunnin' him with One True Magic (II) and then Ochette bit 'em in the face and the fella weren't gettin' back up again after that. Most don't. Nah, he just griped a little and then slunk right back into the dark."

"You did it, you really did it!" Ori tossed the twenty-third napkin full of scribble scrawl onto the pile she had been building. She had been too enraptured by Partitio's tale of doom deferred to realize she was now out of napkins, or that the tavern was mostly empty. "You and your genial group of good eggs looked malice in the evil eye and said Evil? Nay!" The silence that followed was deafening.

Or maybe that was just because the pub was entirely empty, aside from the two of them and the bartender. Who was giving them a look. Oh no.

Partitio meanwhile, was counting out coins into a small sack. When he was finished, he hefted the thing and threw it in a perfect arc to the owner of the tavern. "Why don't I lock up tonight, pardner?"

He nodded wryly. "Why am I not surprised?" He finished cleaning the last glass, then walked over to their table and slapped a key on their table. "Noon tomorrow, buddy."

"You got it."

He had cleared out, and the two sat in silence before Ori finally let out with what had been on her mind. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

"How d'ya mean?" He didn't seem confused. More like he just wanted to hear her talk.

"How am I supposed to live my life?" She shook her head. "Now that I decided I want to live one? My brother's gone, my profession was always a cover, and my old 'friends' are about to get hauled off to inquisition but good. I have to start from nothing. Worse than that, I have a dozen balance sheets' worth of blood on my hands. Blood I'll never be able to wash off. And that, facing up to that is terrifying." Her voice cracked a little.

"C'mon now, Ori." Partitio shook his head. "You might be in some pretty dire straits, but ya can't have nothin' so long as you're alive. What is it ya like?"

She was struck by the straightforward nature of his assertion. The idea that yes, someone like her could be worth something. "I, I haven't really ever thought about that. …I don't think there's anything."

"Really? 'Cause I thought ya liked words." He grinned at her hefting up his empty mug to gesture at the stack of napkins. "Yer always puttin' em together in real pretty ways that simple folk like me could never manage."

"I, I do? But writing was just…" She thought back to all the articles she had written. To those moments when her pen had come alive. The moment she found just the right word in the treasure trove of terminology inside her think tank to make a headline glow. And she realized, herself. "…my favorite part of being alive. You're right."

"See now, that's a start." He rose up and took the key off the table. "We better be gettin' home soon, tho, or Castti will chew my ear off for keepin' a recovering patient out past sunrise."

She clutched at the stack of napkins, which she suddenly knew was her first step to something bigger. Her next words were whispered under her breath "…until I met you."

The tycoon was polite enough, after shutting up the tavern door with a padlock, to offer her his hand for the walk back.

"Partitio?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything." She sighed deeply, then looked up at him in the flickering torchlight. "I, I think there's one more thing I like. Something I want." She squeezed his palm again, then re-gripped it, lacing her fingers in with his.

"Eh? And what's that?" He looked down at her curiously as she wrapped her other arm around his.

"I want someone who knows how to see people. Someone who knows right from wrong, and can teach me to see the good in people too." Leaning in, hoping he would notice. "I think that'd help me uh, write better."

"Gee uh," Partitio scratched the back of his head, "I think you're a pretty good judge of character yourself, as it happens."

"Are all my innuendos really not getting traction here? They're starting to feel more like innuendon'ts." She turned her face away from him, pretending to sulk.

"Heheh, that one went over my head. Try again, though?" Did he get what she was trying to say?

Gods be damned, she was going to make sure he would. She pulled him down with as much force as her tired, weakened limbs could muster. It was enough to bring his head down low. Low enough for her to hit the big, sloppy softie with a bigger, sloppier kiss. His lips, rough and chapped by desert sands, somehow manged to be gentle as he leaned forward to return the gesture. "I love you, you tender-yet-titillating tycoon. Do you need me to stamp the headline on your face? Again?!" She wiped her lips off. "Gods, you taste like plum juice."

He smiled back at her. "Nah, nah, I think I got that one." It was a smile she still had trouble feeling like she deserved, but she was willing to accept that it was a smile he meant for her. That was progress.

~End~

Part 3

[beantothemax]

Not a single nightmare in three months. How lucky Castti felt! She hadn't slept amazingly every night, but there were more than a few nights of good sleep. The bags under her eyes had faded away. She had so much energy.

Even Partitio was happier. Seeing her smile every morning, he couldn't help but smile as well. He'd watched her suffer for months with no idea how to help but now she was thriving. The chalkboard had stayed at nine lines for a long time.

One day, while they were out in town, Castti saw a familiar face. A man with snow white hair. He bore the same strange smile. How strange it was to see him again.

But she blinked and his features distorted. He looked nothing like him. And he was dead anyway, this person just happened to vaguely resemble him.

Castti stumbled back in surprise, but Partitio caught her. He took her hand in his own and they left soon after. After he helped her calm down, she forgot all about it, but the familiar and detested anxiety lingered.

- - -

Timberain. Again. That accursed city. Why was she here?

It was different. There was no rain, no screams of terror or evil shrill laughter, only a cry.

She looked for the source of the sobs, quickly spotting a man sat on the ground. She knew it was him. She sat beside him and placed a careful hand on his back.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he sobbed.

Her chest became tight. Fiery worry filled every inch of her body.

"I don't hate you," she muttered.

"Then why did you get so scared when you saw that man today?" he cried, "what about when you killed me? Do you hate me so much that you would break your moral code to be free of me?"

"I don't hate you!" she said.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him.

"You were just misguided, I wanted to help but your father ruined you," she cried.

"It's okay, chief, no need to lie," he mumbled.

As she held him tight, his tears came to an end.

Though she still loved and mourned the man he once was, his feelings of love for her and their mutual friends had faded. The proof came in the form of a sharp pain in her chest. Blood poured from the wound as he pulled his knife out.

How cruel.

- - -

As Castti rolled over, she noticed the pain was gone. Her chest had no wound in it and she was not in Timberain. Trousseau wasn't there.

She scooted closer to Partitio and crawled into his arms. When she wrapped his arms around him, he yawned.

"G'moning," he muttered.

But she didn't have the strength to answer. She only cried as Partitio woke up. He held her as tight as he could. His heart ached at the sound of her cries, he thought her nightmares were over. They both did.

Well, that was the tenth line.

Once Castti had stopped crying and cleaned herself up, the two of them went on an outing.

She laughed with her usual adorable smile. She was happy to be there. But in the silent moments between sentences, her gaze was distant. Her eyes were always fixed on something Partitio couldn't quite see.

hey pie im gonna sob

this started out really nice!!! castti going a whole three months without nightmares! Partitio being happy just becasuse castti’s happy! and then things got less nice.

the whole nightmare sequence was just. ow. the italicized he’s and trousseau’s own little internal monologue also being italicized and. and the font going back to normal right as castti notices the knife in her chest…….

AND. ADN THE ENDING!!!!!!!!!!! CASTTI ALWAYS LOOKING AT SOMETHING THAT ISNT QUITE THERE!!!!!!! PIE IM GONNA THROW MYSELF INTO THE BED OF THE TITAN!!!!! OW!!!!!!!!