#for now on it will be called natia day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartslogos · 4 years

Text

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [164]

(615): congrats on being the token straight people in our group. -

“So. Aedan hasn't responded to any group texts in about two weeks. That's not unusual,” Natia says, pressing her phone to her ear as she holds up an earring to the light. It's absolutely fake, but it’s a good fake.

Solona waits patiently for Natia’s verdict. This is where Natia can lie and say Solona did not get ripped off — again — or she can tell the truth and deal with Solona being incredibly depressed and ashamed about being duped — again — for the next month or so. Or Natia can stall and call up Elissa or Duran and ask them to swap it out for something real and they’ll just quietly take care of things so Solona never finds out.

Natia can already hear Faren complaining about how they’re babying Solona too much, though. And chances are Faren’d complain to Kallian or Theron, and one of those two is going to spill the beans and Solona wouldn’t just be ashamed about being duped, she’ll be embarrassed about being babied by her whole circle of friends.

“So why are we talking about it?” Daylen asks, sounding incredibly bored. Natia can hear the sounds of children in the background. The man’s entered the wrong profession. No one in their right mind should have ever let him get into child care.

“Hold on, I’m switching you to speaker, I need both hands.” Natia gently puts her phone down on her desk and switches it to speaker. “I’ve got Solona here.”

There’s a heavy, heavy pause on Daylen’s side. Natia can just imagine the man running the calculations in his head of why Solona is with Natia when it’s technically working hours. And because Daylen is quite clever he’s going to come to the correct conclusion that Solona is having something appraised. This, of course, leads to the natural conclusion that Solona has spent a sum of money on something that is most likely fake and she’s getting it appraised. And now Daylen’s trying to figure out how to respond to this.

“Neat,” Daylen eventually says. “Anyway, who cares if Aedan isn’t responding to the group texts? Either he’s blowing it up sending fifteen texts at once or he’s radio silence for weeks. It’s one or the other with that narcissist. Why are we talking about it?”

“Because,” Natia drags the word out as she drags out figuring out how to tell Solona this is fake in the gentlest way possible, “He’s not quiet in other chats. If he’s quiet in the group chat he’s quiet in every chat. He’s avoiding someone.”

“Or he could be working very hard. Leliana has him doing some side work for the Inquisition,” Solona points out. She fiddles a bit with a blonde curl as she worries her bottom lip. Her wide anxious eyes pin Natia with an unfair amount of optimism.

Ancestors. It’d be easier to kick a puppy.

“He must be very, very bored if he’s helping the Inquisition.” Daylen sighs. Natia and Solona turn to look at the phone, as though they could see him through it.

“Are you smoking again?” Solona asks, disapproval heavy in her voice as she puts her hands on her hips. It’d work if Daylen was present. Solona’s disapproving mom energy is something else entirely. Natia hopes she learns what it is someday, before she has kids of her own. It seems like something Natia’s going to need beforehand.

“Listen,” Daylen replies, “Sometimes I just need a cigarette to get through my day. You don’t know how hard it is working with some of these brats.”

“Why are you a teacher Daylen?”

“Because karma’s a whole bitch and I’m being punished for my terrible student career. Back to Aedan.”

“Has Aedan been texting you outside of the group chat?”

“No. I don’t text anyone outside of the group chat.”

“What’s the last thing you said to him outside of the group chat?”

“Congratulations on being the token straight.”

Solona makes a very disappointed motherly sound. No wonder Solona’s kids are little angels. If Natia’s mother was capable of making sounds like that Natia would’ve never ever had a single rebellious thought in her life.

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Daylen. You don’t know that.” Solona pauses. “I don’t think Aedan really swings one way or the other to be honest.”

“No, he’s got a thing with Mahariel.”

“Lyna?” Daylen starts choking.

“Chill — Theron,” Natia shakes her head, drumming her fingers on the edge of her work table. “It’s just rumor. Neither of them have confirmed anything and I’m not going to start asking questions to things no one wants to talk about. But rumors like that start with something.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Morrigan.”

“Theron’s ex?” Natia can hear Daylen’s eyebrows rising.

“Yeah. Ask Lyna about it, I think the two of them are trying to figure out what’s going on there. Because either Theron’s a deep closet case or it was an experimental fling gone awry.”

“Theron and Aedan get along like oil and water though,” Solona frowns. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“Probably why they aren’t together for real. Look, I don’t know. None of us know. We could ask Aedan about it. I’m sure if Morrigan’s got curious she’s asked Leliana. Maybe that’s why Leliana’s got Aedan working with her right now. The two get along really well, maybe he’ll say something about it if she asks subtly enough. Or just asks. You never know with those two. I used to think those two might be dating.”

“No, no, they aren’t each other’s type at all,” Solona shakes her head. “Either way, I think you must have hurt Aedan’s feelings, Daylen. No one likes being a token anything. And I doubt he’s entirely straight. He’s got a certain image going, I know, but despite all of that bluster he’s actually very — well. Natia, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“I can assure you, Solona, I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

“Hm. You’re so clever Natia, I thought you would’ve.” Solona sighs ruefully. “I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually. Either way, Daylen, go apologize to him. Or I’ll tell Bethany and she’ll throw you under the Hawke bus.”

“Fuck, fine,” Daylen groans, “Got to go. Recess ends in five minutes and I’ve got to get rid of the smoke smell. Fuck I wish they’d let me vape instead.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

2 notes · View notes

itsjustcommon · 6 years

Text

My Testimony... finally

I’ve been avoiding writing this out for a long time. I’ve always had a hard time sharing my testimony. But recently I’ve seen a few people share theirs and it helped me a lot, so maybe mine can help someone else.

The thing I guess that I’m ashamed of most is that worst sins came after I was saved. My story is one of backsliding down Everest basically. But I’ll start in the beginning.

I was raised in a household that professed to be Christian. I was in church almost three times a week. I was forced to memorize scripture since 9 (I’m much more grateful for that now than I was then). Despite my parents being Christian we didn’t talk a lot about it. I remember in sixth grade we had a Sex Ed portion of our science class. I went to school in Wisconsin, it was a very liberal curriculum. They told us about pornography and masturbation and how they were a healthy part of growing up. Now I have to give my 6th grade self credit because something immediately sketched me out about that. I went to my mom and straight up asked her if masturbation was a sin. She said she would get back to me… I still haven’t gotten an answer from her yet.

Despite being extremely curious, I didn’t go there. That next summer my family moved from Wisconsin, all the way to Louisiana. I went to a small public school called Church Point middle, which is ironic because it was opposite of anything remotely godly. I guess kids are more sheltered in the town I was from because I learned a lot the next year. These kids were sexually active, knew every swear word you could think of, got into fights constantly, were so disrespectful to everyone and everything around them. It was honestly one of the worst years of my life. I stuck out like a sore thumb, I didn’t curse, I couldn’t tell you much about sex, I actually tried to do well in class, I was nice to the teachers, I had a weird northern accent and I pretty much kept to myself. Prime bullying material. I got called pretty much every name in the book but because the guys were so aggressive, my friends were pretty much exclusively girls, so queer was the name they settled on. I found out later it was someone I thought was my friend who started that rumor. At this point I had basically one friend- her name was Natia, she was a lesbian that already had a 1 year old baby-in seventh grade.

Seventh grade is where I started watching porn, I was already depressed and I felt like I couldn’t go to my parents for anything. My behavior started conforming to the people around me, I started swearing, manipulating people, cheating, getting into fights, ironically I developed this pridefulness over being morally superior to the people around me-despite engaging in all the same activities.

Eighth grade my parents moved me and my sisters into a private Christian school my mom worked at. That’s where I attended until I graduated. I was in a new environment so my actions changed accordingly. I became the meek kid again, I tried in school again, I stopped swearing(out loud), I became the good Christian boy I was expected to be. But there was one thing I couldn’t kick, I couldn’t stop watching porn, I didn’t want to either. I justified it because I has never heard anyone talk about porn in church, that must mean that it wasn’t a sin.

I met a kid named Timothy in eighth grade, there was something different about him. He was funny without being vulgar, he was a leader without trying, he loved Jesus not just with his mouth but his whole life. He was someone I wanted to be friends with, I wanted him to show me what he had that I didn’t. He was effortlessly Timothy, I felt like every move I made was all an act.

It wasn’t until sophomore year that we got close. But I got so much worse in the meantime. I was looking at pornography on an almost daily basis. The “soft core” stuff wasn’t enough for me anymore. I actually started watching gay porn, partially because I was still insecure from being called queer everyday for a year, it was a way to reclaim my sexuality I guess, make it my choice, and in part just because it was something that felt new and different. Again during all this time I still considered myself a Christian.

My sophomore schedule worked out in a way that I spent most of my day with Timothy, including a free period. It was because of this that we became really close. I remember one conversation where he asked me if I had ever shared my faith with someone. I told that I hadn’t and he challenged me to really think about why that was. He started reading the Bible with me, giving me books to read on my own, really discipling me. He confronted me about my sin and got me to the point where I admitted that I wasn’t acting like a Christian, and not only that but I had never acted like a Christian. He made me realize the title of Christian is a hat you can take off and on. That part of my sophomore year was one of the best seasons of my life. I felt like the dusty skeletons of religion became this thing that made me feel alive, really alive. For the first time reading the Bible felt new and fresh and exciting. It was my lifeblood

This is when I really started feeling convicted about my pornography addiction. I reached out to a mentor figure from my church who was a few years older than me. I called him in the middle of the night crying about how ashamed I was and how I needed someone to keep me accountable. And things got better, it wasn’t perfect repentance but God was changing my desires.

That same year my dad went to prison. That destroyed me, I’d never felt super close to my dad and all this did was push me further from him. My mom couldn’t afford rent with her single salary, if it weren’t for the church we would have been homeless. It was not a good time for my family. I fell back into my sin. And I feel like it was worse this time around because I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. I stopped praying and going to church. I couldn’t even open my bible without wanting to throw up. I hated myself. I felt like God must hate me too.

I didn’t stay there long. I was able to forgive my dad and God brought me back. I helped a buddy start this small group program at our school and I threw myself into writing the curriculum and learning as much about God as possible. I learned that when I told others about the Gospel I was also preaching it to myself. When I stopped sharing the gospel I seemed to forget it too. My dad was released from prison in my senior year of high school, soon after he moved back in with my mom. Things seemed good, and they were. This was a season of restoration.

I was nearing graduation. I had good grades, I planned on going to LSU. I had the ACT scores, most of the cost would be covered by scholarships. I planned to major in philosophy and maybe to law school. One night when I was praying I got super convicted—I realized that I hadn’t gone to God for any of these major life decisions I was making on my own. So I asked him where he wanted me to go and he told me—the United States Air Force. So that was where I set my sights, I started getting prepared for that. It was strange because I went to a college prep school, it was assumed that I was going to college basically my whole life, I never thought about doing anything different.

This is a good time to talk about my summer job. I worked at a small baptist camp. I lived there during the summer in a house with 10 other Christian guys and worked with another 10 Christian girls. These people became my family almost immediately. We had weekly bible studies with our bosses, and often stayed up till morning just talking about Jesus. That summer was the closest I ever felt to God. I felt like he was revealing so much to me. All we did was serve campers and talk about Jesus so he was always on the forefront of my mind. I wish that season never came to an end.

At the end of the summer I shipped out to San Antonio for basic training. Armed with my Bible I was ready. It was tough, not because we did anything particular hard but because I felt so isolated from my friends and family. My first Sunday there I was able to attend church and it was so refreshing, I wept for most of the worship. Basic training was one of the most fruitful mission fields I’ve ever seen. All I had to do was open my bible and within 5 minutes someone would come up to me curious about God. I guess these people being isolated made them realize how hungry they were for the gospel.

After two months I graduated and headed to my tech training. I was there for 6 months. I didn’t have a car so I didn’t go to church. I got lazy. I stopped sharing the gospel, I stopped reading my Bible. And I backslide. I had this new found freedom to do whatever I wanted. I had no accountability to anyone. I was away from my parents for the first time and with it came incredibly loneliness. I fell back into my pornography addiction. It was worse than before, I had to look at crazier and crazier stuff to feel anything. And when porn wasn’t enough anymore I started talking to strangers online, posting pictures of myself on the internet. Someone recognized that I was in a Air Force dorm and asked me which base I was at. Turns out he lived 2 floors down from me. We had sex, it was just the next step, watching porn wasn’t doing it for me anymore so I lived out my fantasies. I found out later he was married. That didn’t stop me from seeing him a few more times. I just felt numb, even after I stopped seeing him. I knew it was the worst thing I’ve ever done but I couldn’t process any of my feelings about it. I started to punish myself by running every night. I would push myself to run 8 to 9 miles every night. I lost so much weight. It was incredibly unhealthy but I didn’t know what else to do. I had never messed up this badly, I felt like I lost my salvation. I couldn’t bear to think about it, so I didn’t. I kept running. I wanted to kill myself, but I was too afraid of Hell.

I went home for a few weeks after tech school was over in April. It was bittersweet, I missed them so much but I felt like I was lying to them. Finally I spilled my guts, I talked to one of my friends while I was home and I explained what I had done. Basically they told me to stop moping, I was at rock bottom but wasn’t doing anything about it. God commands repentance, so I needed to stop hiding from him. He was waiting with open arms. I took one step, I confessed to God and he was faithful to forgive. I took one step toward home and it felt like God ran to met me where I was at. Sometimes it was hard to “feel” forgiven. Eventually I had to acknowledge that I was forgiven even when I didn’t feel it.

I was assigned to my first permanent duty station that April. I’ve been here in Washington since then. I still struggle. I go to a small church, I’m part of a men’s bible study-I’m the youngest guy there by 35 years. It’s nice to be back in a position of being discipled, in my experience that typically means God is preparing me for something big. If I had to guess it’s probably my upcoming deployment. I’m hopeful for the future. God is still restoring me. Everyday I desire him more and my sin less. Sometimes progress seems slow going but it’s progress nonetheless. God is faithful, I’m confident he will finish the good work He began in me.

Takeaways:

If I'm not preaching the gospel as often as I can, I forget it. The number one way that I can be sure I'm keeping Jesus at the forefront of my mind is by telling other people what he did for sinners

There is no “too far gone”

Sometimes a Christian’s greatest sins are still in front of them, have faith that Jesus died for those sins too.

The Bible is serious when it says to flee sexual immorality. Do not toe the line. Run away-it is a slippery slope.

Scripture especially important to me:

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6)

Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. (1 Corinthians 6:9-12)

If anyone in the LGBT+ community is reading this I want you to know I don’t hate you, I’m not better than you. I have no high horse to ride on.

I’m just a beggar telling another where I found bread.

#long post

216 notes · View notes

leave-her-a-tome · 6 years

Text

“How long have you loved me?”

“Since I was 14.”

“Really? That long ago?”

He smiled, deep in the memory. “I think when I first realized it, we were peeling cassava on Natia’s porch. You were telling me how you hated your skin.”

Asha recalled her younger days with a groan. Her teenage insecurities, so important then, seemed so insignificant now.

“I hated hearing you criticize yourself. Every time you called yourself ugly, it angered me. And I didn’t know why.” He traced where a patch of white skin met brown on the back of her hand.

“I figured it out though.” With the dying light of the fire, she could just make out his green eyes staring earnestly into hers.

“I hated it because every time you criticized yourself, it was over something I loved about you. And I loved every part of you, because they made up my best friend.”

Asha looked at her hands, and let out a breath. “You have no idea how sweet you are.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned in to him.

“When did you know you loved me?” he asked after a minute of quiet.

“I’m not sure. There was no one moment . . .” Asha racked her brain. “Maybe--I think it was in Chaeshara. After Nicolao refused to give me back my sword.”

She very well near got into a fist fight with him when Nicolao said no.

“You promised me we’d get it back. You were ready to challenge a prince because you knew what it meant to me."

"It took a lot longer than expected."

"And by all accounts we should be dead. But we did it." Asha wasn't only talking about the sword. It was a miracle they were together at all, and she had no intention to ever let him go. Her lips brushed against his neck and she closed her eyes.

"The gods must love us." He gazed at the stars.

"Or they hate us and simply failed all their attempts to kill us." She tossed a stick in the fire and watched the sparks fly into the air.

Elaien laughed. "I guess we're more trouble than it's worth to kill."

She adored that laugh. She wished she could sit here forever. No war. No expectations. And no arrogant princes.

But one night of peace was more than she could ask for.

#asha #elaien #eris writes

10 notes · View notes

andarion · 6 years

Text

Marcelloix - Memories

(Music inspiration: The Corridor of memories - Fate/Grand Order OST)

(Mentions: Abigail Natias played by @cyrillien )

‘How long had it been ever since the last time I was here?’

The cold wind of the Coerthan Western Highlands greets me as I approach the ruins of the place that was once my home, its rooftop collapsed long ago under the weight of the snow, only some of its outer walls and the chimney remain in place. I hesitate to even talk, as there’s so little I can say but I muster the courage to whisper a few words.

“I have returned…father, mother…brother…”

What once was a lovely home in the green fields of Coerthas many years prior to the calamity is now an empty husk. To think that those are the meager remnants of what I believed in my youth to be a structure that would stand for centuries.

I kneel before the ruins of the entrance and place the bouquet of red roses in front, those were my mother’s favorites…As I’m here it is hard to not let nostalgia wreck me or threaten to overwhelm me whenever I look try to recall my past, at the child, and the young man who was once known as Gerard Dumont. Despite such I try my best to not let those memories die, but why? Is it because I’m afraid of becoming that which I’ve sworn to destroy? I’ve been telling myself for some time that Gerard Dumont is dead...

And yet, whenever I remember Abigail calling my name in that serene night in Ishgard I can’t help but to feel as if something stirs deep down inside my heart, for some time I believed that by reminding all the wrongdoings I’ve been subjected to, that by reliving the pain of loss I would be able to steel myself and let make the world crumble upon my enemies, but instead now I’m filled with doubts, deep down I’m still Gerard.

And that’s why I’ve come here…

I turn to look at the rather clear sky, despite the chilly winds the sky was clear, the deep blue of the endless sky contrasting with the snows of Coerthas, that sky however also brings another memory…the day my brother departed to the Capital, and of the day he ‘returned’…He always desired to become a knight, even after nearly twenty years I can still remember the brightness of his smile the day he got a letter of acceptance as a squire, and the tears and wails of my parents when to our home came a courier sent by the temple knights to inform us of his demise.

He had been knighted just a month before his untimely death, when his unit was sent to repel a Dravanian raid, the knights had put some stiff resistance, but the ferocity of Nidhogg’s brood was increasing in those days, with the destruction of Ferndale many were shocked, and yet all that seemed far away, I thought my brother was a sort of hero, one who one day would be much like Haldrath or any other of Thordan’s knights twelve, how could he ever fall?…and yet he did.

After my parents told me of what happened I ran away wishing to be alone, how old was I back then? Ten or Eleven summers? I remember I reached a small bridge that over a creek, on the road that led to the Capital, which was the last spot I had seen my brother, perhaps hoping that he would return.

Those memories are painful even to this day, but amidst such events it was then when I saw her for the first time, a girl with a pale skin tone, golden hair and green eyes, definitely younger than me…of course to speak of love at such age is folly, but I thought of her cute yet fragile…ironic.

As I reach that very same creek now, nearly twenty years later I can’t help but to wonder if the meeting that day was either fate or chance, to think that the girl I found odd yet charming and cute, would go through her own set of ordeals, through some hardships that perhaps make mine a child’s play.

She doesn’t say it, but she carries a huge burden, perhaps she is used to it…perhaps she resigned herself long ago to the fate that was imposed upon her?…I remember her words and face when she told me of what happened to her…and I recall her smile, was it sarcasm? Was it sadness or irony? I don’t know for certain but to deal with all of it, with the things she must have do to keep Eisheth under control, even if she doesn’t complain about it, it is an unenviable burden. How much pain does she endure due to it? And yet she manages to do it on her own, where many would have broken down along the way…

I close my eyes again and remember her laughter on our date in Costa del Sol, it was something that was so rare coming from her, but…that is what makes it all the more precious to me.

I’ve lost nearly everyone that knew Gerard Dumont, but Abigail is one exception to that…one which I was not expecting. For some time I have been doubting why I have gone to such lengths for her, it definitely was not a rational decision, but it is my choice…I said I would be her support, even if that means I would end up damning myself even further.

Perhaps it is because I don’t wish to lose that last link to the person I once was, perhaps it is because I see her as someone who has been subjected to many sufferings that perhaps are far greater than mine. In either case I do not wish her to face things alone…though perhaps I’m making things harder for her in turn, but…I think she appreciates my company, at least I hadn’t seen her smile or laugh as much as she did during our short date in Costa del Sol...

Neither one of us is a saint, but I think I at least will try to make her life more enjoyable, be a small bright spot for her to look after, anything to make her burden less cruel, less lonely…even if that means damning myself, but despite the terror I experiences when I finally met Eisheth I feel I can bear with that so long as I can ensure Abigail’s well being…

I don’t want to lose another person I hold dear, even if it means sacrificing myself, even if it means I’ll have to damn myself even further…

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn #Balmung #FF14 #Final Fantasy 14 #Final Fantasy 14: A Realm Reborn #Roleplay #otp: for the dying and the dead #marcelloix noudenet #Abigail natias

4 notes · View notes

rarawriting · 5 years

Text

Tell the World I’m Going Home | Commission

Posted with Permission for Anon

Brand. Casteless. Dirty. Disgusting.

The Frostback Mountains grew larger the closer they drew, and Natia felt sick. She was nothing there, and the guards would most likely take her into custody and execute her, Warden or not. Should she tell Alistair about that? Ah why bother, that could just be another thing on the list of things Alistair didn’t know.

“Have you looked at the treaties?” “…Of course.”

He didn’t know he was probably too naïve to realize, but the mark on her face meant something. It was more than body art, it was a brand, sunk so deep into her skin that she was sure it was on her bones. It meant she didn’t exist in Orzammar, that she had no Caste, nor clan. The Ancestors turned their backs on her, that she knew nothing in life, but hunger, scorn, and violence.

Alistair would not have known that being marked as she was meant she could not read, nor write beyond a small bit of Dwarvish. Rica had tried to teach her, but she had work to do for Beraht, and so did Natia. What did she need to learn to read or write for? She and Leske would probably die doing Beraht’s dirty work. But it changed, at the Provings, and Duncan had come and rescued her, and with everything after Ostagar, how could she tell him, when he was mourning so deeply?

Morrigan knew, had approached her one evening after Alistair had gone to rest, while she was on watch. It was a simple deal, do not look too closely at her magic, and she would help her learn to read and write. She agreed, adding that Alistair could never find out. With a nod, their accord was struck.

It was very, very slow work, between all the fighting and the ever growing camp. It was difficult to find ways to slip off to Morrigan’s tent that didn’t set tongues to wagging. The first time Zevran mentioned it, she had bristled, but ignored him. When he asked what a woman like Morrigan could offer her in the evenings, that any of the others could not, she had seen red.

Morrigan was her friend. Morrigan did not judge her for her past. Morrigan did not prefer women. To insinuate that she and Morrigan were a couple, or at the very least spending nights together meant that the Witch would be associated with her, and to associate with her in such a manner meant that any dwarf would see her as a brand as well.

It took Sten literally hefting her up into his arms, and off of Zevran to calm her down. The Antivan was certainly surprised by the force with which she had managed to knock him over with, and more importantly to give him a black eye. Wynne tried to lecture her about how Wardens were to act, about responsibility and she stormed off into the dark, trying to judge when they would sleep.

Sten had first watch with Shale, so it would be easy to slip back to her tent, and it really was. She did not expect to find Zev there, and her hand went to her daggars, but he held his own out to show he was unarmed. “I am sorry, my dear Warden. I did not mean to touch a tender spot.”

“She is not my lover. She offered to help me with a private matter.” “Oh?” “Yes.” “You would not care to share?” he asked, and that damned grin was on his face again. It drove her mad, his light tone, the way he seemed to not care about anything. Her jaw set itself firmly as she shook her head, glaring at him, hoping he’d leave.

“What do you say to me making it up to you, hm? You’re always so tense, dear Warden!” “It will take more than that to get me out of my clothes, elf.” “Ah, and she wounds me with her words!” “Go to bed, Zevran. You have late watch with Wynne.” His face soured and he gracefully left, leaving her to her thoughts. Certainly the blonde would mock her if he knew, would slip it to Alistair, or worse Wynne. Still, she did not mind their flirtations, really the more they did, the bigger the army they gathered, the more death they saw, the better it made her feel in some way. That there was still chances to be light hearted.

Alistair tried to flirt, but he was so innocent she could not bear to taint him. Leliana was much the same, though she was a bard and knew of such things. Sten had no interests, it seemed, and Wynne was far too old for her liking. That left Zevran and Shale. It was hardly a difficult choice when she decided she needed some comfort.

And she told him, one evening after too much wine at Eamon’s castle, all of it. Her birth status, everything she had done for Beraht, leaving Leske, not knowing if her sister even lived! Once it had started to tumble out, all of it did. Ostagar, Lothering, Morrigan teaching her to read and write. Perhaps she should not have been surprised that he did not judge her, when he assured her that her past was nothing to be ashamed of. He should know, he was an assassin, and a son of a whore!

There was a comfort to being with Zevran, even if she was simply another name to his list. He could read her, just as she could read him, and he would always know when to pick at someone, in good fun just to bring a smile to her lips, though she quickly hid it. She was The Warden. She was serious, she was brave, her face had to remain impassive.

So when her steps grew heavier at the sight of the mountains, he started to complain about all this walking, and being hungry and tired. Thankfully, the others mentioned they could use a rest, and even Sten proclaimed it would be at least another day before they reached their destination. So they made camp. It was going fine, everyone studiously ignoring how tense and snippy her responses came.

“You go tomorrow, Alistair. Speak to the king, get the troops.” “Why me?” “You’re a Grey Warden just as much as I am! More so, since you’ve been at this longer.” “But you’re a dwarf! You know their customs!” “I don’t know them anymore than you do!” “Duncan said you were from Orzammar!” Natia stood from the log she had sat upon quickly, climbing onto it to be at eye level with Alistair.

“I may have been born under that mountain, in those tunnels, but I have never been from there. I knew nothing about Redcliffe, or Eamon, the Circle, but you did. You thrust me into the leadership role, when I knew nothing. I have fought the undead, demons, werewolves and worse, and never once did I complain. I’m asking you to do one thing, Alistair, one thing! When have I ever done that?”

Before he could reply, she hopped off the log and stormed away, face red even in the dark. All eyes in camp remained on him, and he sighed, pressing his hands to his face. “Maker, she is impossible!” He groaned, settling down to sit on the very log she left. He jumped when hot breath caressed his ear. “Perhaps, my dear Bastard Prince, you should think on her words."

Before the ex-templar could turn, Zevran was gone, off after the dwarf and he was left confused. Why wouldn’t she want to go to Orzammar, why wouldn’t that be her home? He shook his head, and got up. He needed to talk to Wynne.

Zevran found her beating away at a tree with a stick she had found. Well at least she had sense enough not to use her weapons. He settled back against another tree, keeping watch. Finally, the stick dropped from her hands, hardly more than splinters now and her shoulders dropped forward, her forehead against the tree.

"He really is an idiot.” “Yes, yes he is.” “And Eamon wants to make him king.” “That he does.” The blonde did not mention the odd thickness to the Warden’s voice, nor the shaking of her shoulders. She would come to him when she was ready. Meanwhile, he could try to make her feel a bit less heavy. “I have some herbs that when ground into a powder will make his trousers very uncomfortable.”

She sniffled a little and turned to him, cheeks dry, but that meant nothing. He had learned to not cry ages ago, but that did not mean he never felt the urge to. Silently, he opened his arms and she curled up against him, eyes closed tightly. His fingers worked through her hair, noting that it was getting long, and realized with some dismay she would probably cut it soon. The very short hair was fine, but he did like the bit of length.

“Rica might be dead.” “It is a possibility, yes.” “They might kill me.” “They might try, cara, but they will not succeed!”

Her head turned to look at him, confusion on her face. That word he had used, cara, held more in it than she realized he felt. But that damned flippant smile was there again, and she knew it was as much a mask as her stern face was. Perhaps one day, they could leave them both behind. He continued to stroke her hair and sighed.

“You know it could be an act of war, making Alistair go in there alone.” “He wouldn’t be alone. I’d make you go with.” “Yes, because he listens to me.” There was a long pause, where Natia merely held his fingers, his hand in hers and sighed heavily. She did not want to have to face her past, yet there it was, looming quite literally over them.

“I’m going to have to go in.” “Yes.” “Sod it.”

She rose, hand still holding his and he followed, right to Morrigan’s tent. It was time for her lesson, and while the witch didn’t like him, he was good at keeping watch. When it concluded, he led her back to his tent, for nothing more than to ease her tension, and try to keep the nightmares at bay.

Faryn was easy to find the next morning, and Natia was sure Sten enjoyed scaring the man just as much as she did. And Loghain’s men were easy to dispatch, just as the bounty hunters had been. Getting past the guards had been alright, but the moment she set foot back into the market district, she knew things were going to be as easy as kissing a deep stalker.

The deshyrs were fighting, quite literally in the streets, and the very first guard they came across demanded her permit to carry weapons, called her a brand, and she kept her head held high as she explained she was a Warden. He didn’t apologize, just warned her to stay out of trouble. Natia couldn’t bring herself to look at Alistair.

They continued on, picking up requests from people in need, and she got into a few arguments about whether she was a Warden or not. At least Alistair had sense to keep his mouth shut, and Zevran kept his hands to himself. There was no avoiding it, she had to go to the Diamond Quarter, and there she saw the last person in all of Ferelden, in all of Thedas standing there.

“Rica?”

It all moved so quickly after, she was Bhelen’s consort, had given him a son, raised their mother out of the slums. Still she kept her face neutral, now was not the time to let her emotions flow. Every noble there was eyeing them, and one wrong move could have the guards called. Bhelen’s man had papers that she knew were fake, that she wanted her to give out. She really didn’t like either noble, but if it kept Rica safe, to name her father’s child king, she’d find away.

She could tell Vartag knew she knew they were fake. She hadn’t survived Dust town by being an idiot. But she kept her mouth shut, did the task, and spent more time fighting off Harrowmont’s fanatics than anything else.

They had let her into the palace, and she found her sister easily and they had an earnest conversation. Natia even let a smile on her face and tears fill her eyes when Rica spoke of little Endrin, her nephew. Of course their mother ruined the moment, and she left with a hug for her sister, and soft words to stop drinking from her mother.

Morrigan stopped her, briefly, to express her sympathies, and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. Patting her hand, she realized that they would have to go back to Dust Town, and that it would be a mess.

And it was. It was horrible, and she closed her heart and her mind off for a while, running on autopilot, letting her feet take her where she knew to go. Alistair knew now, that she had been part of the carta, and soon the others would. There was no “if they got out alive”. They were leaving alive, because Natia survived once down there, she’d do it again.

Killng Jarvia had been a pleasure, but Leske had hurt, deep in her chest. She had even stumbled after he stopped breathing, and they had to catch her. She had to breathe past it, and she did, shaking off everyone’s hands before they continued on.

They broke for camp, to rest and restock for what was to come. The Deep Roads. Shale was insistent that she come, and who was Natia to say no? Zevran was also very insistent, but with Oghren demanding he come with, she had to choose. He had the map, they couldn’t leave him behind. Finally, it was agreed that they would need a healer with them, just in case, and Morrigan offered to accompany them, before Wynne could.

It was not as though Natia disliked Wynne, she just was not in the mood some days, to have the older woman try to mentor her. She’d been taking care of herself and Leske since they were kids. She’d become a Grey Warden at seventeen! She just didn’t need a lecture every other discussion.

It was with a tender kiss in her tent, that she parted with Zevran, to get an early start. Who knew how long they’d been in the Deep Roads? Oghren was thankfully silent when she slipped out of her tent, and Zebran right after. “Do not let the Darkspawn get to you, dear Warden. Then I would be in quite the pickle with our agreement!”

Turning as she walked out of camp, she shook her head fondly. “If I die at the hands of darkspawn, you have my permission to stay and fight, or flee as you wish.” She offered and he bowed with great flourish before they left.

It was finally done. Branka was dead. So was her house, minus one now ex-husband. Carridin was also dead, but he had given her a boon, a crown with his family’s mark to give to the king she chose. Shale knew some of who she had been. Still it was a long, quite trek back. No one commented on their state of filth, thankfully. They just let them enter the Assembly. The migraine that had been building while they were down there reached it’s peak when the deshrys started to argue once again.

But they had successfully placed Bhelen on the throne, and Rica was safe. Little Endrin was safe. Even Mother was safe. As they left, perhaps for the last time, Oghren silently handed her a flask and she drank deeply. Nodding her thanks, she offered him a bottle she had found, and gave him a tight smile at his thanks. The drink hadn’t helped, her head still felt as though it were to explode. Was it the near constant nightmares? Or perhaps it was simply having seen the archdemon, and the mass that was the horde.

She placed a comforting hand on Oghren’s shoulder and led him towards camp, glad that everyone seemed to have survived without them. Food was placed in her hands, and she ate a few bites before wavering a little, plate falling to the ground. Calloused hands pressed into her neck without a word and she let her eyes drop close.

Natia must have fallen asleep, to wake at the smell of food and to find the sky had darkened. Well she had not intended that, not in the least. Picking up her towel and a bar of soap, she headed towards the stream and knew by foot fall alone it was Alistair who was following.

He gave her privacy til she was in the water and then he sat on a log, sighing. “I’m an ass.” She didn’t comment, merely hummed in agreement as she scrubbed dark spawn guts from her hair. “I read a bit about the Casteless. After we were there.” “Dust town, you can say it Alistair. It’s just a place.” “Can you read?”

Jerking her head to him, she frowned and looked confused at the sudden awkward segue. He must have realized she couldn’t follow his train of thought, and began to explain, “Well I just was reading that the casteless don’t get any jobs, or help, or schooling. So can you read? I can..teach you. If you want.”

Dunking herself long enough to gather her thoughts, Natia popped back up and sighed. “Rica, my sister, tried to teach me. I was a terrible student, but I learned enough Dwarvish to get by. I could write my name, that was more than most dusters. Beraht got her lessons. Taught her to be a lady. She did what she could when I wasn’t out running for him.” There was a heavy pause, filled with Alistair looking towards the stars and handing her her towel.

“Morrigan’s been teaching me since Lothering. That’s what we do in her tent almost every night. If you tell Wynne or Leliana I swear by your minor obsession with your hair and fine cheeses I will make your life miserable.”

Nodding, he gave her a quick hug, before leaving to let her dress. There was more they had to discuss, but for the moment they were alright. Once alone, she let her shoulders relax a little as she listened to the sounds of the night. She dressed quickly, slipping her daggers loose as she heard something move behind her. Spinning she stopped herself from stabbing Zev and huffed.

“So, you told him.” “That I did.” “The world has not ended yet.” “No.” “Hmm good. I have rope I need to find a use for, and I’m sure you can figure out how to use it, cara mia.” “One day you’ll tell me what that means.” “And on that day, I will shower you with gifts.” “Hmm I like sapphires.” “Good to know.”

And with that, they walked back to camp, for a few hours of peace, before they returned to Redcliffe, and the Blight.7

#commission #dragon age origins #dragon age

0 notes

wexhappyxfew · 2 years

Note

7, 9, 28, 29 for ao3 wrapped?

omg HELLO!!! <3 thank you for dropping in a few numbers for the ask game, it is very much appreciated!!! thank you again! :)

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

OOHHH I love this question! Landslide is named after Fleetwood Mac's song Landslide and so I really took heavy inspiration from that song with a lot of the vibes of the fic in general. Sleeping at Last's songs were also incredibly inspirational: 'Eight' I felt was a perfect representation of Natia as a character and then 'Turning Page' essentially describes Natia's relationship with Joe Toye and the connection they hold there together. Otherwise, Taylor Swift songs were always in the background when writing so they were always heavy inspo for all the angst haha!

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

I did answer 9 already, but I can totally mention another favorite pairing I wrote for and that was Natia/Joe Toye! What started out as this flicker of a bit of a rivalry to mutual acceptance and understanding of one another to acquittances to friends to friends who flirt with each other and try to ignore it to 'almost' lovers to long distance pen pals to ..... where we are currently in the story, they make me SO EXCITED to keep writing them. There's just so much about them that I love. Natia is the one, essentially, going nuts and Joe cheering her on and being supportive if that's anyway to describe their connection. It's a subplot more than anything in the fic, but is still something important for Natia in her overall growth throughout the fic and that's why I just love them so much! They've also been affectionately called Fliptoye so :))) I just want to squeeze them into big hugs!!

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

Landslide!!! :) My BoB fic that I started in mid-2020 and am going to be finishing up soon. Previously I had completed other BoB fics like Sunshine Solider and The Soldier of Stars but I wanted to challenge myself a bit and developed Landslide and have been working on that since then!! It's been a joy!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I answered 29 as well, but can happily give another passage favorite I wrote this year! Natia starts out with quite a complicated take on Joe Liebgott, leading to plenty of bickering and arguing and making the extent of their stay at a hospital together in England all the more merrier, and Chapters 37-39 the Natia and Lieb Chaos Show, but I'd figured I'd post just this below. I present Natia's take on Lieb and vice versa:

Joseph Liebgott was quite odd she felt - he smoked 3 cigarettes a day, sat with his boots on the bed, and his hair was a constant companion to his hand which ran through it almost daily. It had been sheer dumb luck that she had happened to succumb to her wounds the day a nasty piece of shrapnel had also tore into his neck, sending them both to a field hospital before being sent to England.

Now, she got to be by his side for 3 weeks or more now, listening to his snores, the obnoxious chuckle from his lips as he read in that Dick Tracy comic book, or the snooty 'pfft' that left his lips when he was annoyed by the slightest movement of another. And it seemed his annoyance with her struggling to stand was one of this inconveniences that happened to annoy him today.

And Natia being more stubborn than a nail, refused the nurses' help, refused the crutches or the wheel chair and forced herself to her own feet, before limping to the washroom or the kitchens down the hall.

Joseph Liebgott watched quietly from his bed as the stubborn woman moved from place to place without so much so as a free arm or the weight of a crutch to catch her stumbling form. Joseph Liebgott was stubborn but at this point it was like watching a newborn horse trying to walk again, and to be frank it was getting too painful to watch nearly everyday as she stumbled about.

And quite honestly, Joseph Liebgott was getting annoyed.

He wasn't sure why but seeing her struggle and stubbornly refuse the help that was offered was pissing him off.

#THANK YOU!!!!#these asks are always so much fun so thank you so much for sending in some! :)#natia filipska #joe liebgott #band of brothers #bob fic #landslide #writing #writing ask game #that passage tho will always be my favorite no matter what #i wrote it on a whim one day and it made it into the fic and it's been a fave ever since :D

1 note · View note

musicfeedsmysoul12 · 7 years

Text

Dancing with Legends: Prologue

Summary: Professional dancers Rachel, Sam and Natia get the adventure of their live son day when they end up taking a trip though dimensions. Especially since Rachel apparently looks like someone called the Witch Queen.

Co-author is: @cometthespacechinchilla because I rant way to much in the chat.

"It’s not the end of the world,” Sam tells his dance partner, grimacing at the group of Georgian dancers who had just won the competition. “We’re still in for best tango dancers in the USA…”

“I know. Just sucks.” Rachel sighs as she adjusts the hem of her dress. “We should probably go and like… say congratulations?” Sam shrugs and runs a hand through his short fohawk.

“We can not and-“

“Come on, maybe you can hit on one of them.” Sam perks up at that.

“Ooooh, I can offer my lovely self as a prize!” Sam grins wickedly while Rachel sighs.

“What is with you and sex?”

“Sex is fucking fantastic. Almost as good as dancing with a good partner.” Sam says seriously. Rachel snorts and pulls her dancer partner over to the other group, where a tall woman with her blonde hair up in a bun is standing somewhat apart. Her face looks deadpan as she stands there, but looks up at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Congratulations!” Rachel offers, offering her hand, still holding onto Sam’s arm. “You and your team deserve the win.” The woman blinks but then nods, offering her own hand.

As soon as they shake hands, the temperature of the place drops suddenly.

“What the-“ Rachel begins but the sound of breaking glass fills the air. The three of them feel like they’re been lifted off their feet, and spun around and around fast.

They finally came out and landed with a thump on the ground. Rachel groans from where she landed on her back, Sam sprawled across her.

“Get off me.” She grunts, shoving him off.

“Fuck, I landed on a rock.” Sam grunts, sitting up with a wince. “…What the fuck?”

“French-“ Rachel says, only to stop when she lifts herself up, staring around her. A bunch of people dressed in peasant clothing were around them, while they were also in the middle of a village that…

“What the hell?” asks the Georgian Dancer, as she herself sits up.

“I have no idea what you said.” Rachel tells her.

“..Sorry. I said what the hell.” The dancer mutters. “This looks like something from a… a…”

“Play?” Sam offers.

“Yes, that.” The dancer stands up as does Same who also helps Rachel to her feet. They look around themselves.

“…Does anyone have a phone?” Rachel asks. Sam pats himself down while the people all take a step back.

“I do not think they like us,” the dancer observes, crossing her arms.

“No shit,” Sam voices. “Fuck, no phone.”

“We were dancing, you take your phone on the dance floor?”

“Hey, Maria calls me alright? Gotta watch out for my cousin.” Sam shoots back as someone on a horse comes riding through the square. The man sitting on it is wearing armour and scowling. “…Okay, hot eye candy, this place just got better.”

“Would it kill you to think about something other then sex?” asks Rachel. Sam looks a little upset.

“Hey! I think about dancing most of the time!” he tells her as the man comes and drops off the horse.

“Witch Queen!” he shouts, pointing at Rachel.

“…I know your dress is a little revealing but witch?” Sam asks outloud.

“Shut up Sam.” Rachel hisses as the dancer frowns.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Are these your new followers?” the man demands. “Are you rebuilding your army witch?”

“Whoa buddy,” Rachel says. “I have no idea who you’re talking about here.” The man scoffs.

“A likely story!” he snaps at Rachel and the girl scowls, placing her hands on her hips and drawing herself up.

“…You are way to short even in heels.” Sam mutters.

“This is serious Sam!” Rachel hisses at him and he shrugs.

“I know, I’m just pointing out you’re to short to try to look tall.” Sam says to her as Rachel scowls deeper and a white haired man comes up to them.

“…An elf?!” the dancer says, looking shocked.

“Again, we don’t understand.” Sam tells the woman who scowls. “Hey, I get the same problem to.”

“How are you so calm?” Rachel hisses.

“Because everyone here is insanely attractive so I get eye candy.” Sam answers honestly. The new comer along with the man and dancer stare.

Rachel slaps a hand over her face and groans, loudly.

“Of course.” Sam shrugs.

“There are very beautiful people around us, how can I despair upon seeing them?” Sam twitches a little and Rachel blinks, noticing how he stands.

Oh.

She herself moves her feet a little, eyeing the people around her.

“I quite like this companion,” chuckles the newcomer. “Though I do agree with you August, the resemblance is… startling.” He looks at Rachel with wary eyes and Sam twitches a bit more.

That’s when Rachel really looks and sees the weapons on the men’s hips. She reaches out to touch Sam’s shoulder.

“Don’t.” She says, not bothering to hide it. Better to warn Sam not to start something. “Elf’s got a bow.” Sam blinks, and looks over the men and shrugs.

“Fine. Still though, very attractive faces. Glad I’m not trying to punch them.” He winks and grins, dropping his stance and holding up his hands with a lazy grin. The elf laughs while the other guy- August- scowls.

“Would you have fought them?” the dancer asks. Sam blinks at her but seems to understand what she's saying- more or less.

“Elf’s got a weak spot in the armour I noticed, aim there I could get ‘im on the ground quick. Knight’s a harder sell but if I got his arm I could flip ‘im and put him down and book it. Bow complicates things.” Sam says pleasantly.

“Ah… smart. I would go for legs.”

“And still, no clue what you're saying.”

“Shut up.” Rachel hisses at both of them. August looks pissed while the elf looks amused but wary. “Look, I am not the Witch Queen-“

“Liar!” August snaps. “You appear here with a new… general and a bodyguard and do not expect us to notice?!”

“…Who’s the general?”

“SAM SHUT UP.” Rachel growls at Sam, causing the man to shrug.

“Fine, deprive you of my wit I shall.” Rachel covers her face as August scowls.

“You will follow me Witch! I shall take you to Lord Reiner this instant! Your general and bodyguard shall come as well!” Rachel wrinkles her nose as he pulls out rope and then stops. “…You shall all walk.”

“I’m down with that.” Sam says pleasantly. “You alright in the shoes Rachel?”

“If I can dance in my heels, I can walk.” Rachel replies.

“Awesome.” Sam cheers. “…By the way, what the hell is your name?” He nods to the dancer who just scowls. “I'm Sam Bellamy.”

“Natia Bakhia.” The dancer- Natia- says.

“Nice.” Sam offers his hand and Natia shakes it. It looks awkward with their hands tied together.

“Rachel Archer.” Rachel offers, offering her bound hands. Natia glares at her instead. “What’s with the look?” She asks. Natia snorts. “What?”

“You’re apparently the look alike of the Witch Queen.” Sam says. “Fantasy usually says it’s your fault we’re in this mess.” Rachel scowls at him while Natia nods.

“Fuck both of you.” Sam grins then. “Shit.”

“Why my lovely Rachel! I had no idea that you felt that way about me!” he clasps his hands to his chest. “Ah, my heart cannot-“

“I will shove you into a fucking lake.” Rachel hisses, prompting him to laugh. “Go back to staring at the asses of the people taking us to meet a lord or whatever.”

“They are lovely asses.” Sam agrees, prompting August to sputter.

“Why thank you dear sir!” the elf says, smirking. “May I say yours is pleasant as well?”

“You may!” Sam cackles.

“Iseul! Cease your flirtations with the bodyguard!” August snaps. However, the elf and Sam don’t listen, flirting back and forth as the trudge towards the castle.

“I regret the handshake so much now.” Rachel mutters.

#love & legends #l&l #fanfic #voltage #lovestruck #dtl

18 notes · View notes

starlightlance · 7 years

Text

the brightest star of all

Summary: Maria McClain doesn't believe for a second that her son is gone forever. He's going to come back to her. After all, he's the brightest star of them all

Lance longs to see his family again. How he misses his Mama's hugs.

Notes: For Day 1 of Lance Week, Family! @lancenetwork

Words: 997

Read on Ao3

Maria McClain always thought of herself as a strong woman. She grew up in a home where financial stability was a constant struggle for them. She was able to go to college. She married her beautiful husband, had children and grandchildren. She was able to provide for her kids. But this. This may have been the worst of every challenge thus far.

Maria didn’t the believe the Garrison’s story. It was complete and utter bullshit. Her son, Lance McClain, most definitely did not die in a simulator accident. She wouldn’t believe their lies until she saw a body for herself. When she asked why she couldn’t see him, they spewed nonsense about “legal reasons.” What legal reasons would keep her from seeing her son’s body? He had to be alive. He had to be somewhere.

She had met up with three other moms shortly after the “accident.” Talia and Natia Garrett, who were the mothers of Lance’s friend at the Garrison, Hunk, and Colleen Holt. Maria felt bad for Colleen, as she had lost both her husband and her two children to these “Garrison accidents.” None of the mothers believed the Garrison’s words for a second. They’d been trying for months to get information, but nothing. Where could their children be?

Maria walked out on the porch. Crickets chirped in the late night, and stars twinkled in the sky. She couldn’t help but feel choked up. Lance always loved the stars. There she was, thinking about him again. She couldn’t not constantly think about Lance. Her son, her baby boy, was missing. Possibly gone forever. Lance was her youngest child. Nothing was supposed to happen to him. He was the baby. His older siblings grieved, the news being a hard hit for all of them. His nieces and nephews, Maria’s grandchildren, would constantly ask the older ones where Lance was. He would always play with them. Maria or anyone else didn’t have the heart to tell them what happened.

It seemed like many people had lost hope. Some had started to believe Lance would never return. Maria refused to think like that. She had to hold on to that small bit of faith that her son would come back to her. It was the only thing keeping her sane. She wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him. She hoped he was okay, feeling okay. She desperately wanted to hug him again, but she….couldn’t.

Maria sighed. She gazed at the stars in the sky, as the shone through the night sky. She smiled slightly, remembering how much Lance loved space. He rewatched Star Wars too many times to count. Maria’s stomach felt hollow as she blew a kiss towards the stars. “I know you’re out there Lance,” she whispered. “You’re the brightest star of them all.”

…

That familiar hurt in chest suddenly arose again. Not here. Not now. Not during breakfast. It had started with thoughts of cooking. Lance had thought about the meals he’d share with his family on Earth, which lead to, well, thoughts of his family. He almost hated thinking of them at this point. It was too painful. But they were there in his mind and he couldn’t dismiss it.

Lance stood up quickly, abandoning the half-eaten plate of food goo in front of him. “Excuse me,” he muttered, as he turned and walked off. He didn’t care that Hunk was calling after him. He had to get out. The observation deck. That’s where he would go. He often found himself heading there to stare at the stars whenever he was feeling homesick or lonely.

He had memorized the route, so he arrived quickly. Sitting down, he took deep breaths, trying to calm his beating heart. There, staring out at vast space, Lance allowed himself to think. He thought of his brothers and sisters. How they’d always lovingly tease him and how one of them would always agree to playing his stupid games. Lance thought of how he sometimes felt stuck in his older siblings’ shadows. How he learned to be loud and funny, attracting attention towards himself. Lance didn’t care about that now. He didn’t care that he sometimes hated having all older siblings. He missed them so damn much.

And his nieces and nephews. Oh, he left them all alone. Lance would always be the one to talk with them. The one who’d run outside with them and lift them up onto his shoulders. He missed them too.

His mother and father. He missed them the most. He missed his father’s kind, gentle words and his mother’s tight hugs. He missed outings on the beach near their house, sand in his toes, and water in his ears. He missed the smell of fresh, crisp air and the damp rain that he’d let pour all over his skin. He missed mint ice cream on hot days and pancakes on Sundays and doing cartwheels in the grass of his backyard with his siblings. He longed for the familiarity of all of it.

But, no. He was stuck in a ship in the middle of space, galaxies away from his home planet. He was fighting an endless war and constantly woke up in the middle of the night with his heart racing because the images of the battles never really left. He learned to hold a gun, learned to shoot it. He learned how to work as a team. But most of all, he learned how to cherish things. He cherished his team. He cherished the new bonds he had formed and the lives that he saved. When he was with his family again, Lance knew he would cherish them. He’d never take his sight off of the people he’d wanted to be back with for so long.

Lance tried to remember what his Mama’s hugs felt like. They were tight and loving. They made him feel warm inside, like all problems were just melting away. That was it. That was the first thing Lance would do when he got home, if he got home. Lance would hug his Mama, and he’d never let go again.

#lance mcclain #LanceBdayWeek #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #writing #my writing #fanfiction #fic #langst #angst #light angst #vld lance #voltron lance #lance voltron #lance vld #text #textpost

239 notes · View notes

glitteringconstellations · 7 years

Text

Beacon Chapter 6: so eden sank to grief

“We should have never left the island.”

In any other situation, Masina thought, the familiar mutterings of her father would have comforted her. In any other situation, she would have rolled her eyes, a fond smile crossing her lips as her mother scolded him for being such a stubborn old man.

Now, it only served to frighten her more, because she could hear the tremor in her father’s voice.

She clung to her father’s hand as they were marched along, her mother’s arm tight around her shoulder from the other side. Even sheltered between them, Masina felt so terribly small. The alien soldiers towered over them, guns trained on the group at large. They even dwarfed her father, an imposing man of impressive height and girth by any other standard. They moved so mechanically that Masina wasn’t sure if they weren’t actually robots. That didn’t make them any less terrifying.

They’d been walking—shuffling, more like—for hours, as the aliens rounded up more and more people at gunpoint without a word. The town wasn’t very big, so Masina recognized most of the people in the crowd. Classmates, neighbors. All looking equally as scared as she felt.

“Where are they taking us?” Masina whispered, peering above the heads of the crowd in front of her. A massive purple ship loomed over the horizon, and as far as she could tell, the path they marched on led right to it. The crowd wasn’t silent, but everyone kept their voices down. No one wanted to be noticed.

“I don’t know,” her mother replied, her voice just as hushed. “It’ll be alright, darling. We just have to stick together.” She tightened her hold around Masina’s shoulders, offering a strained smile. It brought Masina a small amount of comfort.

Read on AO3

“We should have never left the island,” her father muttered again, his eyes flickering to the alien sentries that lined either side of the crowd. Masina looked up at him, and even she could see the fear beneath the mutinous rage on his face. “I told you moving to the mainland was a bad idea.”

And he had. It was an old argument, but one of the only times she’d ever heard her brother fight with their father. The thought made tears sting at the corners of Masina’s eyes now, hearing his impassioned voice in her ears as though the words had been said yesterday.

Hunk—laid-back, friendly, nervous Hunk—had never once raised his voice at his father, until that day. The day he’d dropped the manila envelope on the table like he’d dropped a bomb on all of them.

“I’m going to study engineering at the Garrison, Dad!”

Masina missed her brother something awful. Despite herself, she wondered what Hunk would do, if he were here now. Probably throw up all over the place. The thought might have made her laugh, once. Now, she just thought perhaps it was more merciful that he was spared all this.

“Life was simple on the island. Safe. None of this space invader alien business. But no,” her father continued. Masina whimpered as he squeezed her hand tighter, pulled her closer, to the point where it hurt. “My son had to go and complicate things for all of us, had to go and uproot the entire family—”

“Dear, this isn’t the time,” her mother chided softly, yet there was a tense edge to her voice. Her father kept on as though he hadn’t heard her interruption.

“—just had to go to that fancy school, and then what happened? He and his buddies went and got themselves blown up—”

“That’s enough, Sefa!” her mother hissed.

Masina winced in between them, drawing her shoulders in as though she could curl in on herself. It was bad enough that they’d lost Hunk, but she hated hearing her father blame him like the aliens invading were his fault. Her father drew his lips together in a tight line and said nothing more.

A hush fell over the crowd as they’d drawn closer to the great ship. Masina could see, now that they stood in the looming shadow the monstrosity cast, that the aliens intended to load them all onto it. There were different kinds of soldiers here, and Masina couldn’t stifle the gasp when she realized she’d been right about the sentries being robots. These new soldiers were flesh and blood aliens, tall and menacing with wicked yellow eyes, surveying the group like a farmer might his crops.

She couldn’t help it—she started trembling.

It started at the base of her spine and radiated out until she could feel it down to her fingertips. Her breath started coming in ragged spurts and her heart lurched unpleasantly somewhere in her throat. Fear pulsed in her veins and her feet stuttered beneath her.

Not now, not now… she thought fruitlessly. Now was not the time for a panic attack. Her mother whispered soothing words in her ear, keeping a wary eye on the soldiers they passed and a steady arm around Masina’s shoulder as they made the first ascent up the ramp into the ship.

“Just breathe, darling, breathe…”

Masina clenched her eyes shut tight, both to clear the frustrated tears that burned her eyes and so that she didn’t have to see the ship. She focused on her mother’s words, on steadying the inhale and exhale of her breath, letting her father’s grip on her hand ground her and guide her.

“Oho, what have we here?”

The voice was cold and gravely, and Masina’s eyes snapped open in terror. One of the alien soldiers was peering down at her, all eight feet and some odd inches with a terrifying grin on his face. He held a hefty weapon with ease, tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Masina could have sworn she felt her heart stop dead in her chest at the predatory look he focused directly down at her.

“Look, Arzok, the whelp is so scared it can’t breathe straight,” the soldier called over his shoulder.

She felt her father take a step in front of her and her mother, throwing an arm out protectively. “Stay away from my daughter,” he snarled with all the rage he could muster.

The laugh the soldier barked out made Masina’s blood run cold. “Or what? You intend to fight me, Earthling?” In a blink, the solider reached an arm out and backhanded her father with what seemed merely a flick of his wrist. Her father cried out in pain, the force of it sending him crashing to the floor yards away from them, taking several people down with him.

“Dad!” Masina cried, at the same time her mother shouted, “Joseph!” They both made to move to his side, but the soldier called Arzok moved swiftly, aiming his weapon directly at her father’s head. The people around the small family flinched away, clearing a wide berth around them.

The first soldier chuckled. “Pathetic.” Masina only saw him moving toward her out of the corner of her eye, and by then it was too late. She drew in a sharp inhale as the soldier knelt in front of her and took her face in one of his massive hands, claws digging painfully into her cheeks.

“You Earthlings are so fearful. It’s delicious,” the soldier said, turning her head side to side as though he were examining a particularly interesting specimen. Masina knew she was whimpering, but she couldn’t hear it over the rush of her own heart pounding in ears. She stared into those wicked eyes, wide-eyed herself and terrified, and she cringed back into her mother as far as the soldier’s grip allowed her.

“P-please don’t hurt her,” her mother begged behind her. Masina could feel her mother’s arm still on her shoulder, trying to pull her away from the threat. The soldier snorted derisively.

“You’re of no use to us dead. Can’t exactly use the quintessence of a corpse.” The soldier brought Masina’s face back to center, that wicked grin never leaving his face. “Though, it’s a pity we can’t use you for arena fodder.”

The soldier clapped his leathery hand against her face once, before he finally, finally let go. Masina sagged against her mother, her legs not having the strength to hold her up. The solider straightened and turned to Arzok.

“Separate the men and women from the whelps. If they resist, subdue them, but under no circumstances are you allowed to kill. We need to get them to the Druids alive. Am I understood?” Arzok saluted and uttered something in another language.

“Yes, Commander Korok.”

Masina looked up just in time to see one of the sentry robots grab her mother under each arm, dragging her away. She scrambled to her feet, reaching out for her as her mom writhed and screamed in the robot’s grasp. “Let her go, you creep!” Adrenaline fueled her as he pounded at the sentry’s arms, tugging and yanking.

“No! Masina! Natia!”

Masina wheeled around to see another sentry gripping her father by both arms, easily restraining him as he struggled. Desperate tears filled her eyes as the robots dragged her parents in opposite directions. A third sentry grabbed Masina around her midsection and she shrieked in panic and fear, thrashing as hard as she could as she was lifted off her feet.

“Let me go! Mom, Dad!” Her mother’s words from earlier echoed hollowly in her ears—they needed to stay together! It would be alright if they just stayed together!

Screams quickly filled the air as sentry robots filed in, dragging children from their parents and spouses from each other. Masina could feel the panic overwhelming her, but still she struggled, kicking and screaming and biting.

Something hard cuffed her over the head, and the cacophony was suddenly muted as darkness curled in around the edges of her eyes.

---

Three days.

It’d been three days since Julio found his mother in the mess of people that had gathered in the bunker beneath the military base in Havana. Cell phone reception had been all but annihilated, and the last message he’d gotten from his mother was that she was at the base and had gotten his little siblings on an evac shuttle.

For that, Julio thought, God was merciful.

Those who didn’t get a spot on a shuttle had been hastened into the nuclear bunker. Julio counted himself lucky, that his fishing vessel couldn’t set sail due to choppy seas that fateful day what seemed like ages ago. Luck and luck alone had him run into his father and sister, when they’d come to find him at the docks, that they had made it into the bunker before the bombs started falling and they had to close the doors.

Luck alone, that he’d found his mother at all, before the military had called for volunteers.

“Mijo, please, don’t do this,” his mother pleaded. She sat on the cot she’d been given, Isabel’s arm around her shoulder as she murmured comforting words. In her lap, she clutched a broken picture frame, the glass having fallen out in the chaos when Isabel grabbed it from their home. Julio had reamed her for risking her life for it, but in the end, he was grateful, if only because of the way their mother had latched on to it. “Luis, tell him not to do this.”

His father sat quietly on the cot opposite them, and his silence spoke more than Julio thought he had words for. The man had always been one of few words, and Julio knew without him saying that were it not for his age, he’d have taken up a gun himself to join Julio and the others.

“Mamá, I have to,” Julio said solemnly. The rifle they’d given him sat propped against the cot, a heavy elephant between them all. “We can’t just sit here and wait for… for them to come find us. We have to fight.”

Julio’s eyes flickered down to the photo in her hands, the ever-grinning face of his kid brother staring up at them from the broken frame. Julio was a terrible hypocrite—he knew Lance would be the first to take up arms against a planetary takeover, and yet if he was here, Julio would do the same thing to him that his mother was doing now.

If Lance was here… Julio shuddered. Even in his grief, he recognized small mercies when he saw them. He thanked God Lance hadn’t lived to see the fall of Earth. Lance would have been devastated.

“It’s a suicide mission! You don’t stand a chance against these things!” his mother cried, her fingers tightening around the frame so much so that her knuckles turned white. “I can’t… I can’t lose another child, mijo.”

Julio’s eyes softened. “Oh, Mamá…” He reached out across the space between them, pulling her into an embrace. Isabel kept rubbing circles on her back, looking dangerously near tears herself.

She knew that if they didn’t try, they were all doomed anyway, Julio was aware of this. He knew she knew that no matter how slim their odds were, they had to take the chance. He knew, in truth, she meant I can’t see another child die before me.

“I have to try,” Julio murmured into his mother’s hair. She wept quietly into his broad shoulder, tears staining his already ruined shirt. “We don’t know where Abuelo and Abuelita and Tía Alma are. Sissy and Al and the babies are somewhere out in space. We can’t find them and bring them all home if we don’t try.”

“Jules is right, Mamá,” Isabel said, her voice a watery shadow of her usual confident self. “And he’s strong. If anyone will come back, it’s him.” She managed a smile up at him, reaching her other arm up to draw him in for a half-hug. “If you don’t, I’ll find you and kill you myself.”

Julio huffed out a weak chuckle at that. Ever the firecracker, his sister.

There was an announcement over the PA, then, calling for all volunteers to rendezvous at the northernmost end of the bunker. His mother let out an aborted sob, clinging tighter to Julio. It broke his heart to pull away from her after one last hug, and one more for Isabel.

His father stood with him, placing a weathered, darkened hand firmly on his shoulder. “Vaya con Dios, mijo,” his father said. There was a telltale brightness in his eyes, and Julio couldn’t take it—he pulled his father in for a tight embrace, as well.

“Si muero antes de regresar, le pido al Dios que se lleve mi alma,” Julio whispered in his father’s ear. His father only whispered Amen in return, before pulling away, reaching down, and pressing the rifle in Julio’s hands. Julio took a bracing breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to leave.

“Give ‘em hell, Jules,” Isabel called out after him. Her voice was stronger, familiar. Grounding.

Give ‘em hell? Oh, he could do that.

---

In the days since she and Florence had been plucked from her storm cellar, Colleen had come to realize a couple of things.

The first thing was that the aliens clearly wanted them alive and able, for the most part. They’d let her leave out some food and water for Rover before forcing her to abandon him there, as long as she didn’t put up a fuss. And of course she wouldn’t—Florence couldn’t handle any roughing up, and she didn’t want to risk it.

Besides, she’d seen what’d happened to the ones who resisted. They’d live, she was sure, but perhaps it’d be more merciful to put them out of their misery by that point.

The second thing she’d gathered was that the aliens were waiting. For what, or who, she didn’t know. But she and Florence had been herded along onto some kind of massive ship, forced to strip, and given prison garments to wear. Indignant, Colleen had done her best to try and preserve as much of Florence’s modesty as possible, the poor thing. But then they’d been shoved in a cell and… nothing. For days, if she had to hazard a guess, but she couldn’t keep track of time with no light from the outside.

They were given water at regular intervals, and what had to be some kind of nutrient bar, if she could manage to stomach the taste of what had to be rancid garbage and roaches. They were allowed from the cell one at a time, once every three water cycles, to relieve themselves. And she didn’t think they’d left Earth, unless the ship was so large that she couldn’t feel it moving. There were about fifteen other people crammed into the cell with them, but no one seemed willing to make friends with strangers. She couldn’t exactly blame them.

“How are you holding up, Florence?” she asked quietly, shortly after the twelfth time they’d been given water.

“Oh, I’m an old woman. You don’t have to worry about me,” Florence replied, her eyes crinkling up in a small smile. Her voice betrayed her weariness, though, and it hadn’t escaped Colleen’s notice that she hadn’t been able to keep any nutrient bars down, either.

Colleen reached over and took one of Florence’s hand in both of hers. “I’m so sorry, Florence. You shouldn’t have gotten stuck in this mess with me.”

At this, Florence chuckled, squeezing Colleen’s fingers between her own gnarled ones. “I can think of no one I’d rather be stuck with in this mess, dear, except perhaps my late husband. You and Samuel always took good care of me.”

Colleen’s heart ached in her chest at the mention of her own late husband. But she was touched, truly, by the old woman’s words. She managed a smile of her own, feeling for the first time in a long, long while like she wasn’t truly alone.

But as the hours stretched into hours, the tension between the prisoners in their cell seemed to mount. No one dared asked the guards what was happening, when they appeared briefly to give them water. Until finally, after the twenty-sixth time they were given water, they received orders, as well.

“Form a queue,” a deep voice barked, and Colleen nearly leapt out of her skin. She wasn't the only one. Warily, the other prisoners formed a line, her and Florence somewhere near the center, and they were led to what seemed to be a courtroom.

At the center of the room was a single chair, behind which stood five tall, cloaked figures, their faces obscured by white, bird-like masks. Something about them sent ice coursing through Colleen’s veins, and her arms came up to hug herself unconsciously. They were just standing there, and yet she already feared them more than the alien soldiers.

“One at a time; sit,” the soldier ordered. The boy at the front of the line—Colleen’s heart ached again, seeing how young he was, thinking he looked like he might have been around Matt’s age—flinched back into the person behind him. The soldier grabbed the boy by the meat of his upper arm and dragged him across the room.

“No, no, no, please, no,” the boy stammered. He didn’t resist when thrown into the chair; instead, he shrank into it, like it would protect him from whatever was coming. The rest of them were lined up along the far wall opposite the hooded figures.

The soldier gave the remaining prisoners a menacing glare for good measure, a threat without words to stay put. He then turned back to the boy in the chair, procuring a data tablet.

“This is a gauge that will tell me if you are lying,” the soldier said, giving the tablet a brief wave. “You are to answer the questions honestly.”

The boy didn’t move. The soldier took it as acknowledgement, anyway.

“State your name.”

“…Aaron,” the boy whispered, at length. The data tablet buzzed loudly, and the boy sat up ramrod straight, fear in his eyes.

“Do not lie,” the soldier warned.

“I-I’m not lying! My name is Aaron! Aaron Michael Cox!” When the data tablet didn’t buzz this time, the boy sagged in relief bag into the chair. The soldier paused, considering the boy, before continuing his questioning.

“What do you know about Voltron?”

“I…” the boy looked wildly to the person who stood behind him in line. “I don’t know what that is.” The data tablet was blissfully silent, and Colleen let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. A hand brushed hers and she flinched, whirling around. But it was just Florence, behind her, reaching out a hand to hold. Colleen took it gratefully.

The line of questioning continued, something about “the Resistance” and different planets Colleen had never heard the names of. When, after ten minutes, the data pad remained silent, the soldier waved an arm and two sentries appeared.

“Take him to the arena. No sense wasting an able body. We’ll reap the quintessence from him later.”

The boy looked like he might faint. “Wait, please, I answered all your questions! I didn’t lie to you, why are you doing this? Please, stop!” His voice trailed off as he was dragged away, desperate pleas echoing until they faded to silence. Colleen has to swallow past a lump in her throat.

The interrogations continued, some being dragged off to the arena, and some being dismissed to a work camp, if the soldier’s commands were anything to go by. A handful were led into the next room by the hooded figures themselves. Colleen felt her heart racing faster and faster as the queue dwindled before her until at last, she found herself walking on unsteady legs to the chair.

From this angle, the soldier looked even taller and even more intimidating, and Colleen had to resist the urge to shrink into it like Aaron did. She still had some pride left in her, after all. So despite how she trembled, she sat up tall, her shoulders squared. From across the room, Florence gave her a reassuring smile.

“State your name.”

“Colleen Renee Holt,” Colleen replied, her voice as steady as she could manage.

The data tablet was silent, but the soldier was not. “Tch, another Holt,” he muttered, but Colleen heard it loud and clear. “Pains in my ass, the lot of them.”

The words left her lips before she could stop them. “You’ve met other Holts before?” Her heart still raced, but now it was for a different reason. She sat up straighter in her chair, gripping the arms so tightly she felt her fingers might break.

The soldier leveled her with a narrow gaze. “You were not permitted to speak outside of the questioning.”

“Please, I have to know! Where have you met other—”

“Silence!” the soldier barked, and Colleen recoiled like she’d been slapped.

“A moment,” said a quiet voice from behind her, and Colleen’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. She didn’t know how else to describe the voice but terrifying, the mere tone of it making her hair at the back of her neck stand on end. One of the hooded figures moved to stand before her, and if she believed in magic she would have been sure it’d cast a hex on her, so paralyzed by fear she felt.

The figure laid a spindly, clammy hand down on her forehead, fingers splayed open. Colleen sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the figure pulling at her mind, memories summoned forth like a slideshow. She felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head and she was helpless to stop it.

Calling Katie and Matt down from the roof well past their bedtime. Supper with her family on the eve of the big day. Meeting Takashi and his protégé, the day she sent Samuel and Matt off on the Kerberos mission. The memories seemed to pause on that last memory, her inner eye lingering on their faces against her will.

The memories flashed forward. News of the Kerberos mission failing catastrophically. Katie insisting she could find proof that it didn’t go awry. Her and Katie fighting about sending her to a girls’ school, that it was for her own good.

Seeing the missing cadets’ faces flash on the news, seeing her daughter’s picture there with the name Matt had given her beside her own maiden name. Seeing the footage of the explosions. There was a humming noise, like the figure found something curious, and the images shifted.

There was her boy, and her husband, and Takashi, forced to their knees before the same kind of aliens, still in their spacesuits. Her Matt, dressed in the very same prison garb she now wore, a knife presented to him. Takashi attacking him, a wild look upon his face. Matt, a gash clear from his temple and down his cheek as he writhed on the ground before a looming enemy. A poster of Matt, labeled enemy combatant, kill on sight.

When the hand withdrew at last, Colleen sucked in a gasp of air like she’d been drowning. Tears she didn’t know she’d shed streaked down her face. What little was on her stomach roiled, and with a heave she leaned over the side of the chair and retched.

“Curious,” the hooded figure said, no inflection in its voice whatsoever. It turned to the soldier, who scowled at it. “We may desire to use her.”

The soldier scoffed. “You Druids do as you please, regardless. Take her.”

Matt was alive. Her son was alive. They wanted to kill him, and they wanted to use her to do it.

“No,” she croaked, wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. The soldier and the Druid turned to her, slightly startled. “I won’t do it. You won’t use me to kill my son. You might as well kill me now.”

The soldier merely quirked an eyebrow, exchanged a glance with the Druid. “You ought to be careful what you wish for, Earthling.”

Then there was excruciating pain. It was unlike anything Colleen had ever felt before—like every nerve in her body was simultaneously on fire and being electrified. A scream tore from her throat and she pitched forward, falling out of the chair to writhe on the floor in pain.

As soon as the pain had started, it ceased. Colleen was left panting on the floor, clenching her eyes shut. The Druid had scarcely lifted a finger.

Colleen gritted her teeth and fought for breath, summoning the energy to glare at both of them. “Come on,” she gasped. “Kill me. Do it, because I won’t help you.”

The pain came again, for longer this time, but Colleen was ready. She bit down on her lip, snapped her eyes shut, and clenched her fists so hard the nails dug into her palms. The Druid didn’t seem to let up this time, though, and the thought flit across her mind that maybe it would actually kill her.

“Stop it!”

In an instant, the pain stopped. Colleen could barely hear past the buzzing in her ears, but there was a muffled shout, followed by what could only be horrified screams from the few people left lined up along the far wall.

A thump came only a few feet away from her, so close that Colleen felt the whoosh of air as something hit the ground. Steeling herself, she braced herself up on both forearms and managed to lift herself a few inches from the ground before she opened her eyes.

A low moan escaped her lips. “No, God… please…” Tears sprung anew as she reached a trembling hand out.

Florence laid spread eagle on the ground between her and the Druid, her eyes wide-open and glassy. She was dead.

#fic: beacon #voltron #fanfic #i meant to share this when i posted on ao3 but i passed out #literally took me all night to finish the chapter #and then ao3 was down today #so i figured i'd wait to share til it came back online

1 note · View note

operator-ator-blog · 7 years

Text

Do You Remember?

Do you remember?

As his eyes fluttered open Ator was greeted by a blinding light and the feeling of cold metal against his skin. Where was he? How long had he been asleep? No, the better question was why had he been asleep. Ator didn’t remember going to sleep, but now here he was.

“Looks like it’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice spoke out, it was somewhere off to his side, “should we put it back asleep?”

“Awake, asleep, it doesn’t matter. This void demon has no feelings.”

Who were these people talking? Ator tried to move his head to no avail. Was he restrained? So he tried to speak out, but something blocked his mouth. What was going on?

The light overhead dimmed, allowed Ator’s vision to focus. At first everything was a blur, but before long he was able to make out the ivory walls adorned with gold. It was an Orokin room, that was for sure, but it didn’t tell him why he was in it. Then THEY started to stand over him, human figures finally in his field of vision.

They stood over him clad in clean white, their faces were all covered by masks but he could tell they were looking down on him. Ator’s green eyes flashed from one to the other, taking in their details to try to get a grasp on the situation. They were Orokin, that was something he was sure of, and they all gave off an air of superiority. As his eyes moved from one body to another he was able to catch glimpses of metal tools in some of their hands, sharp instruments ready to use. What were they going to use them on? His question was swiftly answered.

A sharp blade dragged across his chest, a muffled scream tried to escape from the young Tenno. Warmth spilled out onto his skin, a contrast to the cold at his back which could be assumed to be a surgical table of sorts. These were Orokin doctors and they were performing some kind of surgery! Why? Another scalpel cut into his flesh and more blood spilled out. What had he done to deserve this? What were they doing? More and more questions, but still no answers.

The pain was intense and warm tears flowed freely down his cheeks. His body tensed with each new incision they made. Then the cutting stopped and all Ator could hear was his own frantic breathing as his heart pounded against his ribs. Then there were footsteps, almost like the sound of heels against the pristine floors, and they were drawing closer.

“Come to see our progress, ma’am?” Ator tried to focus his blurry vision when the male doctor spoke.

“I’ve paid you a hefty amount of platinum to make me the perfect Yuvan,” an older, female voice spoke now, “so of course I’m going to check your progress.”

“Is everything to your liking so far?”

Ator had to strain his neck against his restraints just to catch a glimpse of the woman that was speaking. She had to be middle aged, with green eyes that examined Ator that showed an unamused glare. Her skin was a dark color, as if kissed by the sun, and her face round. With a scowl on her lips and the way her black hair was set atop her head in a bun, she came off as very stern. She put off a regal air that everyone that Ator could see seemed to take note of, keeping their distance from her almost as if they feared her.

“Come here,” she motioned to the one of the doctors with her finger.

“Is something wrong, Madam Acantha?”

“This here,” she did a circular motion with her finger while pointing at something on Ator, “why is it still here?”

“You mean its genitals?” The doctor seemed confused. “The male genitals didn’t seem to-”

The doctor didn’t finish his statement before the Orokin known as Madam Acantha slapped him hard, sending the doctor to the floor. “Do I look like a man to you? Give my Yuvan the proper reproductive system, I do wish to have children some day. Do as you are told or you will find yourself strapped to a table and under my knife. Am I clear?’

A unanimous “Yes ma’am” came from all present in the room besides Ator. He could only look up at this frightening woman and when her eyes met his a deep chill went down his spine.

“Don’t waste any more of my time.” Those were her last words before she turned and left Ator’s vision.

There was an unsettling chill in the room after the woman left. Though it wasn’t long before the doctor’s got back to their job. Once more scalpels began to dance across his pale flesh and Ator’s body was wracked with pain. With each new cut his vision began to blur and he couldn’t focus much longer. Ator could feel tugging on his skin before it was cut and everything faded to black. So many questions left unanswered as the darkness consumed him and numbed the pain.

Ator shot up in a cold sweat, his eyes wide as he looked around the dark room. It took a moment for his vision to adjust but once it did he found himself looking around his room. No longer was he on a cold table, but in his own bed with Natia asleep beside him. As he began to calm down his eyes focused more on her sleeping form.

He reached out to her, wanting to make sure she was actually there; that he was actually awake. As his hand reached into the darkness he could see that his ring finger and pinky were missing, or at least his golden prosthetics. Natia always made him take those off before bed, she didn’t like the way they felt. So this was real, he was awake.

In her sleep Natia rolled away from his touch, revealing her bare shoulder to them. With what little he could see, Ator could make out the scar on her shoulder. The sight of him made him draw his hand back. It made him remember what he had done to her when he had lost control; how he had tore into the one he cared for so deeply like she were nothing but food.

Do you remember?

That voice rang out loudly in his head. Of course he remembered, how could he ever forget? The things he had done when he lost control. What he had done to those he called his allies; his friends. That wasn’t something someone could simply forget. Ator remembered all too well the monster her was, and it disgusted him.

He needed to clear his mind.

Ator had dressed to train, his normal tattered, red skirt clung to his waist and his golden cuffs that adorned both his ankles and wrists shined bright. Like a machine he moved between each training dummy hitting them each in a rhythmic pattern. As he moved blood flowed freely from underneath his cuffs. The voices had become too much and he needed the pain to help clear his mind.

Do you remember everything you’ve done to them?

All the people he had hurt in the past, all of the blood on his hands. So many people had fallen to him, his weapons, and his Saryn. Countless lives snuffed out without any hesitation, but the ones that haunted him were of those that had never deserved it. The lives he had snuffed out back on the Zariman all the way up to now. How many lives had he ended before they had reached their prime?

As the thoughts welled up inside his mind his movements became more aggressive. The training dummies were starting to crack with each of his hits. The look in his gold and green eyes became more intense as rage formed. It was starting to spill over.

Wasn’t their pain delicious? You enjoyed it so much.

“Shut up!” He shouted as he swung his hardest at one of the dummies.

The dummy’s head came off immediately and shattered against the wall by the entrance which hung open. Standing in the doorway was a thin female in a Red Veil suit. Her head was bald and two golden horns protruded from her forehead. She looked to Ator with a smile and only kindness showed in her blue eyes.

“I just walked into the room and already telling me to shut up? What did I do now, big bro?”

Ator looked to the female and gritted his teeth. Slowly his composure came back to him as he looked to the female. “What do you want, Vena? Are the Red Veil not sending you after any good targets so you feel the need to pester me?”

Without fear the female walked up to Ator, giving him a playful punch in the chest. “Would I be a good sister if I didn’t pester you that often? Besides, you seemed really troubled.” She stopped and looked at the dummies Ator had been beating on. “For the sake of the Shattered Court’s training dummies I feel I should intervene.”

“It’s of no matter to you, Vena. Matters of the past.”

“You’re having nightmares again, let me help-”

“I don’t need your help!” He flung his weapon to the wall, embedding it into the metal from the strength of his rage.

Vena looked to him in silence, looking him over as his breathing grew heavy. She moved towards the staff, pulling it from the wall with relative ease before giving it a twirl. The silence between them was intense, filled with negative emotion. To fill the silence she tapped the staff against the wall three, slow times. The sound alone seemed to stir something up in Ator, he looked to Vena with a look that said he felt at ease and held great sorrow.

“Do you remember that sound? What it meant to me on the Zariman?”

Ator balled his fist tightly until his nails dug into his flesh, fresh blood dripping down to the floor around his bare feet. “How can I forget? I will always remember, Vena.”

“Do you really remember, Ator? I honestly don’t think you do.”

“How could I ever forget my time trapped on that damned ship?!” His rage finally spilled over as his shouts echoed. “Though I saved you I am the reason you arm was ripped from your body! I could have killed you!”

Vena flinched at his words, her hand going to grip her left arm tightly. “WHat I’m trying to tell you, Ator, is that we all have nightmares that haunt us. Every Tenno does.” When her blue eyes fell on Ator once more, she looked deeply troubled. “You are not alone. You’ve built an entire organization around helping the Tenno, why not let the Tenno help you?”

Ator had to look away, his rage subsiding. “I don’t know how to ask for help…”

Vena let out a sigh before leaning the staff against the wall. “I’m always gonna be here to help you. Just come ask me for it yourself when you figure out how.”

WIth those words she left, leaving Ator alone once more. His mind was now wild with new thoughts, the demons at bay once more. For now at least. Now all he was left to do was to remember, but instead of remembering the atrocities of the past he remembered all the people who have joined by his side. Those that he called his allies, his friends.

His family.

#Warframe #operator Ator #backstory

9 notes · View notes

bouncyirwin · 7 years

Text

Get To Know Me Tag

Tagged by @ohsotiny and @meliss-cake thanks for the tag! ♡

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people (just so we get one thing straight I’m not tagging twenty people)

THE LAST:  1. Drink: chai latte  2. Phone call: my mom  3. Text message: My friend Natia  4. Song you listened to: Despacito - Justin Bieber  5. Time you cried: like 3 days ago because the stress became just too much

HAVE YOU:  6. Dated someone twice: yep  7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Nope  8. Been cheated on: no  9. Lost someone special: yes  10. Been depressed: yes, for years  11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yep (never again, never ever again)

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:  12-14: turquoise, neon green, berry red

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:  15. Made new friends: yep, I started uni this January and made about 15 friends.  16. Fallen out of love: no  17. Laughed until you cried: I don’t remember when but it happens frequently  18. Found out someone was talking about you: don’t really pay attention to these things.  19. Met someone who changed you: oh yes. Two people, and one of them is @sayurinomoe  20. Found out who your friends are: definitely.  21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: No.

GENERAL:  22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: like 99% (my Facebook is for family and that’s precisely why I don’t use it)  23. Do you have any pets: nope :-( I had a rabbit once though  24. Do you want to change your name: maybe my last name. I’m too used to my first one to change it even though I don’t exactly like it  25. What did you do for your last Birthday: went to a hotel with close family members, ate good cake, got good gifts.  26. What time did you wake up: 4:00 am  27. What were you doing at midnight last night: scrolling on Tumblr  28. Name something you can’t wait for: moving out (hopefully this winter)  29. When was the last time you saw your mom: like 5 minutes ago.  30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: oooh boy. A lot of this but mostly, have a normal loving family.  31. What are you listening right now: people shouting and being royal asshole a.k.a the usual  32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: nope  33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my family  34. Most visited Website: Probably FanFiction.net

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME  35. Mole/s: None  36. Mark/s: ah… a lot. Stretch marks (especially my thighs), scars, etc  37. Childhood dream: being happy.  38. Haircolor: dark brown.  39. Long or short hair: pretty long  40. Do you have a crush on someone: no  41. What do you like about yourself: I guess how accepting and non-judgemental I am  42. Piercings: zero.  43. Bloodtype: B positive  44. Nickname: Rams  45. Relationship status: happily single  46. Zodiac: Taurus  47. Pronouns: She/Her  48. Favorite TV Show: Glee probably, I don’t watch TV

49. Tattoos: none for now  50. Right or left hand: both  51. Surgery: nope (thank god)  52. Hair dyed in different color: not fully, just tips; I’ve done red, purple, pink and blue  53. Sport: uh whats that  55. Vacation: please take me to Osaka pretty please.  56. Pair of trainers: what does this MEAN (<—)

MORE GENERAL:  57. Eating: I’m not a very picky eater but there are a few things (like raisins) that just the mare sight of could make me puke  58. Drinking: water, water all the way, favorite drink ever.  59. I’m about to: go out and be miserable  61. Waiting for: freedom?  62. Want: drum set  63. Get married: i don’t know if I want to… marriage is pretty fucked up. Unless I find someone who could be my equal in every possible aspect of my life, then sure. But I won’t be the ‘housewife’ or quit my job when I have kids or be the one responsible for cooking and ironing clothes because I’m the woman. Fuck that. Besides, here marrying a person equals to marrying their entire family, because his parents gotta be very involved and as a person who values privacy and comfort above all, it’d be a nightmare. So maybe if he doesn’t have parents living in the same county (or parents at all) that’ll be ideal. (See why I ain’t getting married?)  64. Career: I’m an aspiring film director/producer. I love that there’ll never be a routine cause I can’t handle that

WHICH IS BETTER  65. Hugs or kisses: hugs.  66. Lips or eyes: eyes, eyes are the most beautiful thing in the world right after stars

67. Shorter or taller: taller  68. Older or younger: younger  70. Nice arms or nice stomach: nice stomach  71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive.  72. Hook up or relationship: relationship… if I had to  73. Troublemaker or hesitant: I don’t like causing trouble but if you push me I won’t hesitate  74. Kissed a Stranger: No  75. Drank hard liquor: yeah, but I’m not a big fan of alcohol  76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: yes. It was a nightmare.  77. Turned someone down: a few  78. Sex on the first date: my goodness no  79. Broken someone’s heart: um, I don’t think so.  80. Had your heart broken: once (never again. Ever.)  81. Been arrested: no  82. Cried when someone died: when my great grandma passed three years ago but otherwise I find it hard to cry over dead people (unless not at the time of their death, maybe years later when I miss them)  83. Fallen for a friend: yeah, I only fall for friends. I’m incapable of loving someone I don’t know very well and trust

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:  84. Yourself: I struggle to because I’ve literally lived my whole life with people who like to remind me I’ll never make it  85. Miracles: yeah. One happened to me.  86. Love at first sight: no.  87. Santa Claus: no  88. Kiss on the first date: never been on a proper date, I don’t know how that works.

OTHER:  90. Current best friend name: Sayu.  91. Eyecolor: black  92. Favorite movie: I really can’t pick.

Tagging: @mishiexd @kakashis-porn-stash @denilmo @sayurinomoe @quaintaffairs and @mydarlingl0ve @purple-possibilities @raendown (sorry if any of you was tagged before)

#bouncyirwin things #tags #personal

6 notes · View notes