#herlyn drabbles

[ladytrollfishes]

Opia for TazHerlyn? :O

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

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Herlyn Frigus | 10 sweeps, 21 years | Some Dive Bar Somewhere | 1144 words

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The bar’s the sort of dive you find at the deep end of the swimming pool. The floor’s got a layer of grime and stickiness a broom wouldn’t pick up, and by the looks of the bartender, dead eyed and bored, they don’t give a single crap. The minute you step in, the whole bar’s looking at your strange old mug, and you flash a challenge of a grin.

You’re not above a good old bar fight, assert your worth but Gia slips in front of you and leans on the bar to address the bartender. 

“Barnum,” she says, “Got a place for my friend and I?” 

As soon as she does, you see him actually give you a second glance, then smiles a smile you’d classify as oily. 

Gia’s not the sort you’d peg as a regular for a place like this. She stands out in the grime with her three piece suit and fancy hat- but at her appearance the rest of the bar shuffles back into their drinks and their conversations and you’re down one bar room brawl. 

Barnum jerks their head towards a couple of empty barstools. “You bringin’ any business around tonight?” they ask and Gia shakes her head. 

“Just looking for a drink,” she says. “My regular please.” 

Well it explains how she knows this place, if she’s done business here. Barnum turns an eye towards you- you’re dressed much more in the style of the bar, in a ratty old band tee and a denim jacket with some mysterious stains on it. You think it adds character, to which Gia definitely agrees. 

You return the bartender’s once over readily. If they’re eyeing you for looking out of place next to her, you could same about their association with her. 

“And your friend?” 

“Whiskey, neat,” you say casually, slipping your thumbs into your jean pockets. The bartender turns behind the bar and starts setting up your drinks as you take your seat. Your section at the bar is a little sticky, but hey- your jacket’s stained anyway. You plop your elbow on the table and spread out like a weird spider as you watch Gia take out a handkerchief and brush some crumbs off the stool before sitting down. 

You roll your eyes. 

“What, are you too good for those crumbs now?” you joke. “Kicking them off the seat like that.” Gia doesn’t dignify that with a response, just a dirty look. You chuckle as your drink lands in front of you. You make a face- it’s way more sweet than how you usually like your whiskey, but alcohol is alcohol and you take another swig. 

Gia’s regular is apparently rum and coke. More rum than coke, and a few shavings of ice. She plays with the glass in her hand, instead of taking a drink. She leans against the bar, turning her body towards you. When she looks at you, there’s no joke in her eyes, just the solid steel grey. You turn back to your glass. 

“So how have you been?” she asks. 

“S’fine,” you say, and take another gulp. It’s not good enough whiskey to savor- the burn of alcohol is more drugstore than brewery. You can already feel the tell tale buzz at the edge of your awareness.”

“You’re going through that whiskey pretty fast,” she notes. 

“You haven’t touched yours,” you reply. 

“Ver,” she says, exasperated. “You’re driving me crazy. You’ve been picking fights every two seconds, you’re angry all the time and you won’t look me in the fucking eye. What’s wrong?” 

You look her in the fucking eye. 

You hang out with more hemoanons than the average person, you think. Staring into baby greys doesn’t feel like looking into a kid’s eyes anymore. Look closely enough and you can spot the thin line of her contact around her iris. No, Gia’s grown as you are, and her baby greys just ask you what you really know about her. 

You’re hemofaking too- you got contacts in maroon, not grey, and librarian glasses to match but for some reason it feels like Gia sees right past them. Looks right past them, into something deeper. 

You settle both your elbows back on the table, your drink in hand and your eyes on the scars in the soft varnish of the bar.

“Last I checked, Gia,” you say, taking another sip of whiskey, “we weren’t actually quads.” 

Her silence is wounded, and you blink at her startled. She’s got her lips pressed together into a thin line- an impressive feat for her, her lips were pretty pillowy- and she’s staring at you intensely, like she’s actually upset. 

“-aw shit, Gia,” you say hastily. “I mean I like you, but this has just been for fun yeah?” 

You flinch when she draws back an arm, but she doesn’t try and break your nose- only socks you in the shoulder just hard enough to bruise. 

“Asshole,” she says. “You don’t have to be quads to worry about someone. And your quads aren’t here.”

It’s easier to look her in the face when she’s pissed, (doesn’t hurt that the fangs come out gleaming too) and you rub your shoulder ruefully. 

“Guess so,” you say. “But seriously, I’m fine.”

Gia makes a noise of disbelief. “I think I know you well enough by now to know when shit’s different. You’re different now.” She pauses, hesitates long enough to bite her lip so you fill in her sentence for her.

“Since I got kidnapped by a pirate,” you say with a snort. “You can say it, you know. It’s like, ridiculous, right?”

You can’t quite believe it actually happened, to tell the truth. It feels slightly like it happened to someone else, with how ridiculous it all is. But Gia’s not finding it funny- she’s frustrated, her lips pressing together again. This time, she’s the one that looks away, pinching the bridge of her nose as you sit there, grinning. 

“C’mon,” you say, only a slight whine. “It’s really no big deal.” 

When she looks back up at you again, her lips are still pursed, her face solemn, but her eyes has something in it that’s not hate or even annoyance it’s- 

“Don’t you fucking pity me,” you snap, good mood suddenly gone. “Don’t you dare.”

Gia’s eyes flash with a sudden fury. 

“Then don’t be so pathetic,” she snaps right back, fangs bared. 

A drop of heat slides down straight to your stomach as you sneer at her. “Oh yeah?” you growl, leaning forward. You got yourself braced up against the footrest of the stool and push yourself up so that you’re just hovering over her. And you take care to drag your gaze down, lingering on her lips, before you meet her eyes again. “Am I really so pathetic now?” 

Gia doesn’t give an inch. Her breath is on your face, her nose barely brushing yours. 

For one silent moment, she stares straight at you with those steel gray eyes. 

Then she reaches for you, just as you crash your lips onto hers. 

[cloudbattrolls]

a herlyn, a weird prototroll, an ullane?

scraps of nonsense what I used to title her cavern drabble

i dunno if ullane actually owns that outfit. but she should.

[mirkstrolls]

Mistledrabble/Kisses Meme roundup post

Might add on later if I find or finish more of these! Plaintext are mine, italicized are the other RPer’s.

Mistletoe:

Vide/Izzy

Vide/Liyiji

Vatrra/Vide

Vide/Riccin

Jerath/Vide

Vide/Berell

Mandra/Vide

Pheres/Vide

Taz/Warron

Warron/Taz

Tiwani/Taz

Taz/Sielan

Pheres/Widsth

Widsth/Ariste

Djagor/Widsth

Arocle/Widsth

Bonnie/Widsth

“I want the K” meme:

Vide/Pheres

Vide/Orivar (earlier version)

Herlyn/Taz

Liyiji/Taz

And, just for fun, my first kiss drabbles:

Videle: “Winter Sound”

Taz: “Fall Right into You”

Widsth: “Keep It True”

[anontrolls]

To Do

I’ve been kinda slow at replies and such lately, so hopefully a to-do list that I can knock a few items off of later tonight will help!

replies (should be about 10 to do by tonight)

update Kit’s relationship page (Octyll, Tetrao, Fettle, Sipara)

update Lal’s relationship page (Sipara, ID, mb Cennef)

update Bonnie’s relationship page (Herlyn, Juelie, Ullane, add Pheres into future)

make a drabbles page (possibly integrate into the following?)

turn plot page into ic info page including plots, drabbles, worldbuilding, headcanons, and relationship pages, plus the intro post

[ladytrollfishes]

Inktober 16th, Gift

Herlyn Frigus | 4 sweeps, 7 years old | Neuja City | 1517 words

Your bum hits the concrete with a jolt and your eyes tear up but you snarl and bite your lip. If you cry now, Elkive’s gonna laugh at you, and Elkive needed two other kids to take your food.

“Give it back!” you yell as you jump to your feet to run after them, but you have to jump back when the olive kid takes a swipe, and all three of them get enveloped in orange psi and just lift up out of your reach. “You jerks! You fucking assholes! Get back here!” You hop up and down, trying to grab Elkive’s foot, but she’s way out of reach.

You can deal with Elkive by herself- she’s slow and all you gotta do is punch her or bite her and she loses focus and drops everything, but now you guess she’s got friends you gotta brawl through now. You spark right back at her, neon orange and teal sparks jumping off your face, but she just laughs at you.

“What kind of yellowblood are you?” she sneers. “You don’t have spark worth half a grub loaf?”

She sticks her tongue out at you, and you gasp furiously at the insult then start climbing the nearest box of crates. Maybe you could jump and catch her.

“Hey.”

A flicker of blue slices through the orange and your lunch drops to the pavement.

“What?” Elkive squawks, and drops. She’s lost focus! You jump off the box and spring, tackling her to the ground and punch her twice in the face before another foot meets your chin and you sprawl backwards onto the pavement again.

You shove yourself up dazed, rubbing your chin. Someone’s wailing and you’re pretty sure it’s Elkive.

“Come on!” one of her goons shouts and they all go running off.

“You got guts, kid,” someone completely new says. The blue psi comes back then, taking your lunch and dropping it back into your lap. You turn to see who’s speaking. It’s an older kid, maybe six sweeps. They’ve got a red symbol on their shirt, a headband that sits over two blue psi eyes, and a casual swagger that makes you want to like them, if you knew what they wanted.

“What do you want?” you say, suspiciously, holding up your lunch. “Saw you nick that from that olive in the square,” the stranger says. “Pretty smooth work. And when you got jumped like that, well-” they shrug. “I don’t think much of bullies.”

“Still don’t know what you want,” you say, and clamber to your feet.

“I wanna make friends,” they say. “I got some people I want you to meet, and they can be your friends too.” “Yeah?” you say. “The sort of friends that can help me?”

“Yeah sure,” the stranger says. “The sort you can help too.”

You consider that for a second. Elkive got friends and she got what she wanted. The older maroon kid helped you and then you got what you wanted.

“Okay,” you say with a nod. “I’m Herlyn.”

“I’m Halkat,” they say. “Nice to meet you.”

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Herlyn Frigus | 5 sweeps, 10 years old | Neuja City

With your eyes squeezed shut, you can feel it. You can feel the power inside you, inside everyone in the room. You tug it from inside you and hold onto it.

“You feel that power?” Halkat says. You nod. “Imagine wrapping it around the bottle and just. Lift it up.”

You take that power, wrap it around the bottle, but when you lift and you crack an eye open, the empty bottle still sits on the ground. A whining groan escapes your throat. “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggghhhh-”

“Come on, Lyn,” Halkat says. “You’re definitely sparking-”

“-hhhhhhhhghhghghghghhaaaaaa-” you sink to the ground and flop onto your stomach, a piece of gravel on the floor of your secret hideout poking into your cheek.

“Herlyn,” Halkat says. “Herlyn.”

“-aaauuuughhhhhhhhh- ow!”

Something hits your head and you sit up and wince. It’s a half full bottle of soda.

“Shut the hell up!” Ferra yells. “Give it up Lyn, you’re basically flat.”

You make a face at her.

“Like your psi is any better you half cracked Spiderman,” you say. You take her soda and down the whole thing as she colors.

“Gimme back my soda!” Ferra exclaims.

“Shouldn’t have thrown it at me,” you say, standing up. Psi or not, you can definitely still beat Ferra. “Hey hey!” Halkat exclaims. “We’re trying to do something here, and we don’t have time before Alkire and Berthe get back. Ferra, don’t throw things at her. Herlyn stop whining.”

You throw Ferra back her empty bottle and stick out your tongue.

“We’ll keep trying,” Halkat says. “At the very least being a shitty telekinetic means you’re not gonna get picked up to be a ship.”

Elkive stopped being a pain your butt a couple perigees ago, when she disappeared all of a sudden. You’re not sure what really happened, but people were saying that it was one of those program recruiters. It was weird. You’d never liked Elkive, but she was still one of you, and now she was gone. At least you don’t really miss her.

“I still don’t wanna be useless,” you complain. “At least ships do something.”

“Oh shut up,” Ferra says. “You’re so fucking whiny.”

You end up tussling instead of doing more psi practice. Ferra sticks your face to the ground but you manage to lick the packaging of all of her snacks and when Alkire and Berthe get back with more loot, you and Ferra both get kicked out of the hideout for awhile.

At least you still get to eat her snacks.

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Herlyn Frigus | 6 sweeps, 13 years old | Neuja City

Ferra’s just straight up strong. She hauls you up 90 degrees up a building, and you gotta admit her psi is fucking annoying, but you guess it’s good for something, since neither of you can fly. The wind gusts and pulls off all the heat from your skin and you shiver as you stare down to the city streets, bright below you.

“Ferra. Ferra come on,” you say. “Let me get back down there.” You sound half hearted, even to you, and you kinda hate it.

“Halkat’s dead,” she says harshly. “And at least they picked that, you know, so don’t go raring off on me. The last thing we need is for the imps to decide that you’re also helm material and get culled when they figure out you’re not.”

“They’d believe it long enough for me to kill a couple of em,” you grumble. You’re pretty good with a knife, even without psi. Ferra stops to stare at you.

“You’re insane,” they say flatly. “That’s your plan? Yeah I don’t feel bad about this at all.”

You gather that familiar, useless power around you until your eyes start sparking that good old orange and blue.

“Hey I look very convincing,” you say. “You look at my face and tell me I don’t look like I’m about to start throwing cars at people.”

Ferra does look at you, and instead of her normal sarcasm, she’s looking at you in surprise.

“Hey,” she says. “Have you ever considered that you might not be telekinetic?”

You roll your eyes.

“What else is new, Ferra,” you say. “I’m barely better than flat-”

“That’s not what I mean,” she says impatiently. “Herlyn, you’re warm all of a sudden. Like we’re high up enough that this is weird. Maybe you just, I don’t know. Do heat stuff?”

You think about it for a moment.

“Weird,” you say. “You really think?”

“I dunno,” she says. “Can you make me warm too?”

You shrug, then wrap that power around Ferra too.

“Oh dude, yup,” she exclaims. “You can make things warm.”

Now that you’re paying attention, you can feel the wind push and pull at that power. The heat. It’s so weird. You’ve had it all your life and you never knew what to call it. All those bottles and boxes you tried to lift, you guess you were just heating them up. What the fuck.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you exclaim, staring at your hands.

“Keep me warm while I haul your ass out of trouble maybe,” Ferra snaps right back at you and keeps on climbing.

You had barely paid attention to that schoolfeed about thermo-whatevers, but maybe you should go back and look to see what the heck you can do with this. Whoever heard of psi that you need to study to use?

Ferra heaves you to the top of the roof, and sighs, taking a deep breath as she crosses her arms and looks at you.

“This sucks,” she says. “A lot. But don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

You pull a match out of your sylladex. If you could just… shove as much power into the head as possible maybe it’d- you spark and it lights.

The two of you stare at the little flame burning between you.

You grin very, very widely.

[ladytrollfishes]

Dragon Age AU

tw: child abuse, general Circle of Magi fuckery

When you were four years old, a spark fell from your head, slid down your spine, ran cirlces around your arm and jumped from your fingers, and set your bedspread on fire.

Your mother had beaten it out of the bed, and then slapped you across the face. Just as you reeled backwards, tears already springing to your eyes, she clutched at you again, crying into your hair. You’d never seen your mom cry before- 

She was so sorry, she said. You just couldn’t do that anymore, not where people could see- otherwise they’d take you away, and you didn’t want that did you? You didn’t, and so you kept that lovely spark close to your chest, even though it grew everyday. 

Your mother tried to help you learn, trying to guide you into keeping control, to never trust your dreams, or lose your temper- you learned how to take care of it yourself, as you watched others from the alienage, that had that spark get taken away by soldiers in shining armor. 

When you were six, you started helping your mother- when she took wallets from pretty ladies in silks and jewels, you distracted them by being adorable, which people said you were a lot. 

You were less adorable at ten, when you were shooting up like a weed, skinny and tall, and holding onto your temper was starting to get harder when all you wanted to do was beat the snot out of Shaeli who thought they were better than you, just cause they had two parents, and they had more money, and they were going to leave alienage to look for the Dalish.

You didn’t know what was so great about the Dalish anyway. Whose pockets would you pick if you were running around in the woods? Your mom said they were stuck up snobs who thought they were better than you too, so that, you reasoned, meant Shaeli was perfect for them and that she should leave to see them immediately. 

You grabbed her and she punched you in the face and when you went tumbling to the ground, the spark fell out of you again and set her clothes on fire. The next day, the soldiers in shining armor came to see you. 

They were going to take you somewhere safe, where you could practice magic safely, with other people who could do the same. You would have food to eat every day, and clean clothes to wear. 

It didn’t sound so bad, really, and they promised your mom could visit you, so you agreed. Your mom gave you a hug good bye and told you, you would never see her again.

You didn’t realize how true it was until you were eleven, and your mom didn’t show. They said she could visit! Why wasn’t she? Did she hate you now that you left her?

You got mad, and you stayed mad, to the dismay of your teachers. 

You had been doing badly in your studies- the squiggles on the page didn’t mean anything to you and you had to pretend and guess if you didn’t wanna get laughed at and you really would rather throw a book at pompous faces than try to read it. x You weren’t very good at keeping your temper anymore and the templars could cleanse you all they wanted- they couldn’t cleanse a fist to the face, or a nicked pocketbook. 

The templars beat your stupid ass a lot harder than your mother would, but it never quite cures you of your dumb teenager mouth. They tell you if you don’t shape up you’ll get put to that sun shaped brand that’ll cut you off from the Fade, which just makes you angrier. 

One of the chantry initiates took pity on you, helped you get to the healers, sat you down and made you read until the weird squiggles started making sense to you. 

Alnica told you that the templars lied, that your mom wasn’t actually allowed to visit, and when you got mad at her, she just nodded and said she was sorry that the Circle sucked. She said that she was raised in the Chantry orphanage, raised to be a sister, and it wasn’t all that easy for her to leave either, because she had nowhere else to go, but if she could make the Circle suck a little less, maybe that’d be okay. 

You became friends then, and things got a little easier. And they stop talking about making you Tranquil as you got better at studying and you weren’t blowing off the handle all the time. 

You made more friends, and it turned out you were pretty good at magic after all- you were just really bad at reading. And you get your ass beat less, which is a nice bonus. 

You miss your mother, you rankle at not being able to get outside- but you know only the best mages get to leave the tower, so you work hard and you grind your teeth and you wait. 

When you’re seventeen, you meet your first Dalish elf. New arrivals aren’t all that rare- but this one is old. Most newcomers were babies, or young children, you were on the older side when you came. They look like they’re twelve or thirteen or something, round and baby faced. 

You caught a glimpse of them struggling as they’re brought in, still dressed in strange Dalish robes. They’re so small it doesn’t look like it’s all that hard for the templars to bring them in. 

The rumors abound about them- they’re a Dalish princeling found to have magic and cast out of the tribe, the last survivor of a great battle that sought refugee in the Circle- you don’t know what to think, but the only one’s who would know are the templars and they won’t tell you jackshit. You never paid too much attention to the tales of the Dalish when you were a child, only that they thought they were better than the city elves. 

It’s hard to think that when you look at them, curled up on their bunk, cramming up against the wall, with their blankets wrapped around them tightly. The younger kids had swarmed them with questions earlier, and all they had done was duck their head into their blankets and hide until one of the older apprentices ushered them away. 

They hadn’t moved after that. There aren’t that many other elves in the Circle, and you know Chiera already doesn’t like the Dalish and Hiplen’s just an asshole. 

Well, you’re an asshole too, but you’re a nice asshole. The others will come poking around eventually but you think maybe you’ll give friends a shot first. The Dalish elf doesn’t seem to agree. 

You ask if they want food or help or directions, they just keep their head buried in their blankets and eventually you give up. You don’t know what their problem is! Like yeah, the Circle kinda sucks but it’s not all that bad, and they’re just making things worse from themself. 

It’s not just you- they also don’t seem to do much at all. It takes the adults standing right there for them to get them to even eat, and in class, they sit there, staring into the distance with their book closed on the desk. You wonder if Dalish elves know how to read. Or maybe they thought they didn’t need the material taught in class. 

 It takes a week before the sympathy for newcomers wears off and Dalish (they haven’t told anyone their name, so they just become Dalish) starts getting gossip.

They don’t really change, not really, but you see that the way people see them does. People stop thinking it’s because they’re sad  just because they came when they’re older or because they’re Dalish and everyone knows the Dalish are snobs, or maybe that they’re just slow, or that they were already secretly Tranquil. 

 You’re not sure. They don’t have the sun on their forehead, after all, and you don’t think Tranquil would care enough to hide it. But all they do is lie around all day, and they haven’t said anything, so how do people even know what they’re thinking? 

That’s when you notice how afraid they are. You weren’t scared at all when you first came- excited to explore this new place full of people who had the same spark as you- but a lot of people come wary, crying and afraid. You thought they were just sad, but when you watch them closely, you see them flinch just a little, whenever someone speaks too loud or flails in their general direction. 

 They don’t look anyone in the eye. They look down or away, let their growing mop of hair cover their gaze. You don’t know how they can see anyone approach to know to flinch. You ask Alnica about it and Alnica asks some other people and rumor has it that it was Aubade who brought them in, and everyone knows Aubade’s a real piece of work, even the other templars. 

You don’t like bullies and templars could be the worst ones there were, so one night you sneak over to Dalish’s bunk and whisper to them that if they ran into any trouble, any at all, you’d protect them. Dalish looked at you then, the first time you get them to look up at you and you start because their right eye is cracked like shattered glass, like someone spelled it with cold and it never melted. 

They still don’t say a thing. 

 You don’t give up though. Most the others have stopped trying to make friends, and taken to muttering behind their back, but you slip them your dessert sometimes. You even volunteer to help Dalish with their homework, when Enchanter Risperin taps his podium impatiently and asks for a tutor, and you’re like a hundred percent goddamn certain you’re not exactly his first pick, but you’re also the only one who actually raises their hand. 

You’re going to be a goddamn saint, about it, and you’re determined that it’ll pay off eventually! 

They still don’t talk to you. They haven’t breathed a single word. 

Dalish isn’t exactly getting great marks either, with them spacing out every class, and never lifting a hand to do their homework. 

You’ve never even seen them cast even though the enchanters take them into their private offices to tutor them. Sometimes you wonder if they’re even a mage, but if they weren’t why the fuck would they be in the Circle? 

Alnica tries too, but she’s got even less luck. They won’t look at her at all.

For months and months, they never say a word, but at least they eat and sleep, and they’ll look at you, and you wonder what they’re seeing with their one good eye. 

It’s really like trying to be friends with a ghost. 

You’d love to say you never got bored, or frustrated, or wanted to try something just to get a reaction out of them, but you promised, you promised you’d protect them, and you’re pretty sure they’d need protecting from you if you started needling them. 

Besides, the others in the tower do that already, and they don’t get anything but flinches anyway. You intervene when the other apprentices get shirty with them, and your rep takes a hit, but you did promise.  

You’re doing book tests and the room is drop pin silent, so everyone hears the crack. 

You’re not sure what it is at first- someone breaking their graphite? But it happens again, and something goes clattering to the ground and the enchanter frowns from front of the room, and when you look back, Dalish is standing, and they’re goddamn motherfucking looking up. 

On their desk are the broken remains of metal bracelets that you’d seen around their wrists, that you never took notice of and as you feel the Fade stir, you think maybe that’s the reason you’ve never seen them cast. 

Enchanter Risperin opens his mouth and raises his staff but it’s too late- the wall explodes, and you see daylight and smell fresh air for the first time in seven years. 

Screams erupt in the air, and you freeze as thick wooden tendrils (roots, they’re roots, and you remember all of a sudden, that great tree, the vhenadahl in the alienage, your home-) erupt from the mortar, pulling away stones. 

Dalish turns pale and sweats with the effort, but they’re already moving towards the hole and you find yourself moving with them, one step at a time. Templars burst into the room, and there are more screams as several of them throw out cleanses. 

You’re both out of range when it hits, but several of the apprentices scream as the mana gets drained right out of them. Dalish scrambles to the hole they made. You don’t even think about it-  you blast the incoming templars with cold, freezing them before they make it halfway across the room. You catch a couple of apprentices too, and there’s more screams. 

You hear the enchanter scream your name, and for a second, you see your life flash before your eyes, because you are so so fucked but then you hear a strange voice say-

“Are you coming or what?”

It’s raspy with disuse and it’s Dalish, standing on the edge of their hole, holding a hand out for you to take, eyes burning, and for the first time you think, that, you know?

Maybe they aren’t twelve. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Magpies: Make a Last Stand

Herlyn rolls out a little map of the area on the ground, keeping it flat by placing a few miscellaneous objects on the corners- a book, a glass, a container of cottage cheese left half open on the table.

“So what do we got?” she asks, looking up at Daginy, who squats down, squinting at it.

They point on the map, at the building they broke into.

“They’ve quarantined everything off from here,” they say, tracing out the boundaries of the encounter. “To here. They’re probably going to come in once they're done with recon.”

Less than an hour ago, the call for all block 32d residents had been called to evacuate through a quarantine due to rebel infiltration. At the exits, there were ID checks and pat downs and facial recognition software and there was no way they were making it through there without getting caught.

This was the end of the line.

“Batteries 361 and 996 are here,” Daginy say, and ticks the powers off their fingers. “Constructs, strength, teleportation, lasers, water, intangibility, birds, damage absorption.”

Mysmus whistles low from behind them, peering over their shoulder.

“Quite a line up,” he says. “What are our chances?”

Herlyn looks up at him.

“How much ammo you got?” she asks.

“Twenty for the little one and six for the big,” he replies.

Herlyn sighs and leans back on her hands.

“Slim to none,” she says. “I give us less than 1% for all of us to get away safely. And we need to move fast if want even some of us to survive.”

Daginy bites their lip, examining the map. Herlyn is going to sacrifice herself, they realize with growing dread. 

“Percents?” they ask.

“Fifty-fifty Daginy gets out,” she says, looking at them. They were the smallest, the best at hiding, the best equipped for stealth. “Twenty percent for the both of you.” They did make a good team- they covered most each other’s weaknesses. “Ten for Mysmus alone.” He’s better at stealth than Herlyn, but he’d get chased down without Daginy covering him. “And like zero for me.”

She laughs ruefully, running a hand through her hair.

“Herlyn-” Daginy whispers. “You can’t.”

“Look it’s a miracle I made it out this far,” she says. “Ain’t exactly sneaky. Here on out I’m just gonna slow you down to be honest.”

Mysmus puts a hand on Daginy’s shoulder and squeezes. Herlyn had saved them so many times already, forged her way through so many conflicts- to think of her dying in battle was near unthinkable.

“But-” Daginy says.

“I’m the only front liner we got,” she interrupts. “We try anything without a distraction and we all die cuz we’re outnumbered as shit. So here’s the plan.”

Daginy has never heard a plan they hated more, but it is their best shot.

“We need to move fast,” Herlyn says, rolling up the map and getting to her feet. “While we have some sort of upper hand.”

“Herlyn-” they say, catching her hands. “Herlyn I’m-”

“Hey,” she says, and smiles down at them. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about me I’m fine. These are the bastards who executed Alnica yeah?”

Daginy nods slowly, apprehensive, and Herlyn’s smile turns hard as she pats them on the shoulder. 

The only real regret she has is that she wasn’t there when they had found Alnica. In her mind, Herlyn draws her line in the sand.

“Then they’ll get theirs when I get mine,” she says firmly, pulling a couple bottles from her sylladex. “Now get in position.”

She speaks as a commander, not as a friend.

“Herlyn,” Daginy says, their voice cracking. Their relationship isn’t perfect- Herlyn’s never quite stopped seeing them as a kid to protect, but they’ve fought together for too long now. “I love you. You know that right?”

They blink back tears in their one remaining eye and she looks back at them, smiling sadly. They’ve never said as much before, but for what other reason have they stayed around?

“I know,” she says. “Me too.”

Daginy and Mysmus head to the roof. When they’re up there, Daginy gives them cover- true invisibility. It's difficult to maintain, especially for two people, but they don't have much of a choice.

Birds of all species flit from building to building. Hirast Aggino, brownblood, communes with them. Enemy reconnaissance. Daginy peers over the edge of the building as Mysmus sets up his rifle.

Their opponents are arranged in the streets, the quarantine only spreading across a couple city blocks. The Empire has decided, apparently, that they were too dangerous to let go, even in a crowded city.

The frontliners are on the ground. Nanako Bonjou, oliveblood, strength, Vadaya Urvata, purpleblood, constructs, Virull Baboyi, water, yellowblood, all stand on the street, waiting for the order to go in.

Behind the building is Casman Kainya, yellowblood, lasers, Ignira Fillop, oliveblood, intangibility, and Tadani Porolo, redblood, absorption, to keep people from sneaking out.

Hirast and Zavare Yuudai, tealblood, teleportation, have taken the high ground, standing on the edge of a building across the street. Hirast has his eyes closed, face tilted towards the sky, connecting with the birds, while Zavare surveys the street below.

Daginy points out the brownblood to Mysmus, who trains his crosshair on him. Killing never did come easy to them. Even now, they hold regrets for their role in the coming carnage. It was easier when they were alone- when the choice was simply run or die- but they could not in good conscience let their friends go to battle without their support.

Mysmus has no such compunctions. It doesn’t matter so much to him what the outcome of this is, so long as Daginy comes out of it alive. The fact they have the best chance is a relief. He puts a hand on their invisible knee and pats it.

“Ready?” he asks, and puts his finger on the trigger. Daginy finds his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Yes,” they say. It's a lie, but they won't ever be ready for this and they need to get moving.

Herlyn waits down below in the lobby for the signal that Daginy and Mysmus are in place. An illusory bird flies down past the street, displaying its black and white wings, and disappears.

Hirast opens his eyes and his mouth, and a shot rings out. He collapses.

“Sniper!” Zavare screams and winks off the roof as Herlyn kicks down the front door and throws a molotov cocktail, setting fire to the ground under the feet of the imperials.

Vadaya constructs platforms and leaps on one, Nanako and Virull jumping on the other. Zavare lands next to Vadaya, just in time to avoid the flames.

“ONE UP FRONT,” Vadaya bellows.

“The teleporter,” Daginy whispers. Mysmus lines up his shot.

An enormous purple shield spreads over the battle on the street as the gun goes off. The shot cracks the shield, the bullet missing the fatal shot and scoring a hot line down Zavare's cheek. They look up, a bead on the direction of the sniper.

“I got it,” they say, and wink out again.

Nanako dives in for the entrance, breaking the door in pieces, neatly dodging a swipe from one of Herlyn's twin blades, attached to her arms.

Her skates are long defunct now-- she's on her feet as she dodges one blow, then the next.

Zavare lands on top of Mysmus, and for a moment everyone startles. They trip, Daginy reels backwards, Mysmus grabs for the hand gun. The invisibility drops.

“Two here!” Zavare yells and winks back out before they hit the ground.

Nanako forces Herlyn back out onto the streets. Virull sweeps aside the burning alcohol and swipes at Herlyn with blade of water. Purple spikes dive at her. The water blade cuts, yellow blood splattering against the ground, but she whirls out of the trajectory of the spikes. 

Zavare reappears at the center of the roof. Mysmus whirls and takes a shot. Daginy draws a knife and spreads out copies of their image across the roof. They disappear again. 

Nanako looks up at the sound of another shot and bounds upward, digging her hands into the sides of buildings, making her own hand holds. Herlyn shoves psi into every metal thing on imperial bodies, and there's a chorus of screams as the flesh connection to their prosthetics start burning like hot irons.

Zavare teleports behind Mysmus, grabbing him from behind and winks out again, taking him with them. They reappear in the air above the street, twenty stories to fall. Zavare lets go. He knows, as he falls, that Daginy is next. This is their only chance. Mysmus shoots.

Nanako loses focus and falls as her fingers burn her own hands, her neck on fire. Vadaya, half turns, falls to his knees, a purple wall appearing and shattering in the next second. Virull manages to coat all their prosthetics with water. Herlyn pulls her psi again, pulling all the heat from the water and freezing them. There's several loud cracks.

The shot goes into Zavare's hip and Mysmus falls. Zavare screams and teleports out. Mysmus hits the ground. Daginy watches, horrified.

There are more screams as ice presses against sensitive burns. Nanako gets back up, smashing the ice on her hands. Metal fingers fall to the ground. Vadaya frees his left arm but not his right. Herlyn stabs Virull in the head, who has no such strength. He falls, imprisoned by the ice.

Mysmus isn't dead. He can't move an arm for the pain, he can't feel anything below his ribs. He lifts the hand gun and aims for the largest target.

Reinforcements arrive. Ignira pulls them all directly through the building. Casman jumps out running, an enormous psionic blast pulsing from her eyes. Herlyn is knocked off her feet. Tadani bullrushes her.

The bullet lodges in Vadaya's shoulder. Nanako is on Mysmus faster than he can react. She knocks the gun out from his hand and breaks his neck.

Tadani tackles Herlyn into a wall, the impact leaving her woozy and breathless. Herlyn digs into them with her blades, but they simply sink in. Ignira puts her hand through them both and closes around Herlyn's heart.

Herlyn pulls out another bottle, filled with oil and fertilizer.

“Get fucked,” she snarls, and it explodes.

It's silent. 

Daginy curls up on the rooftop corner, clutching the concrete ledge, stifling sobs. They should have run already. Zavare called their position, but it didn't look like they were coming back. 

Neither was Herlyn, and neither was Mysmus. They didn’t even say good bye except for the squeeze of a hand and an unspoken hope they would not need to.

Below, the imperial soldiers start to collect themselves.

“We missed one,” Vadaya says through gritted teeth and ringing ears. “The little one with the illusions.”

“Look at you shot, leh!” Nanako says, pushing down on the bullet wound, stifling the flow of purple blood. “Whole battery down. 996 is gone. We two down and you talk leftovers.”

“Where's Zavare?” Casman says, scanning the skies.

“Medical,” Nanako says. “Shot in hip, lah. Last one probs long gone. Little bird runs.”

“Well let's get the big guy some medical himself!” Casman exclaims. “We're done here. Send in another battery.

Nanako moves to hoist Vadaya over her head, but he puts a hand up with a groan.

“Some dignity, please,” he says and constructs himself a stretcher. “Next time we meet it will be much more one sided.”

Daginy needs to move. More soldiers would be here soon- this was the only opportunity they'd get to get away. They can't allow themself another moment for grief.

They force themself to uncurl and take one unsteady step, then another. Every step is easier, until they take off running, focusing on what was in front of them instead of what they leave behind.

Things had come full circle, like they always suspected they would.

They’ve been alone before. 

They can do it again. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Alnica: Incubate

Daginy looks up at you from your couch, their little grey eyes wide and wary behind their glasses. They're shy as they get, but you think they've eased up around you since you spent all that time making sure they weren't about to die.

“What do we do now?” they ask quietly.

You rub the bridge of your nose, sighing as you consider your options. You didn't think your life could get more complicated, but Herlyn really did have a way of picking up complications.

“Well we can't send you back,” you say. “You'll get revenge killed.”

You elbow your moirail. Herlyn shrugs sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she says. “Didn't really think it through. But yeah, his clade ain't gonna let this go nice and easy.”

Daginy looks down at their bandaged hands, their lusus curled up in their lap.

“I don't have a hive anymore,” they murmur. “I don't- I can't-”

Actually getting a permanent place for them would be tricky. They obviously can't afford it on stipend, and you're not exactly in the position to be loaning wads of cash to near strangers.

“You can stay here while you recover,” you say soothingly. “For as long as you need.”

“What's another stray?” Herlyn jokes. You elbow her again, hard. Your apartment is full of strays, yes, that you take care of, but Daginy did not need to be compared to an animal.

“I mean, like no offense,” Herlyn says hastily. “Like I'm her biggest stray, y'know. Like she had to taser me the first time we met.”

Daginy blinks up at the two of you, opens their mouth as if to question it, then closes it again. “Okay,” they say. “That uh- that sounds like a story.”

You roll your eyes and give Herlyn a little shove. “Yes, and we can tell it later,” you say. “The problem we have now is that we've got a highblood's clade on our tails here.”

“They haven't caught me yet,” she says. “I mean I can take credit for the kill-”

“How many times?” you interrupt. “How many highbloods have you killed now? Social enforcement is going to come for you if you keep the pattern up.”

Herlyn grimaces, then starts ticking off fingers. “Well the cops only know about two of 'em,” she says. “But three's a pattern and then my life's not worth shit.”

You're all silent for another moment.

“I mean I could probably kill everyone who tries-” Herlyn says, tapping her chin.

“Herlyn!” you blurt out. “You can't solve all your problems with murder!”

You were trying to avoid a revenge cycle, not generate three new ones.

“Please,” Daginy says. “Don't kill anyone else.”

They glance between the two of you, and you eye Herlyn, who catches your eye, and rubs the back of her neck.

“Well if anyone has a better idea,” she says, “I admit mine is pretty last ditch.”

“They can't kill me if they think I'm dead,” Daginy says quietly. “If you find a body and burn it in my hive, everyone will assume he killed me in my hive.”

You exchange glances with Herlyn.

“That's a little drastic,” you say, hesitant. “And it doesn't solve Herlyn's problem.”

Daginy turns to look at her, their eyes calculating. “You said they haven't caught you yet.”

“And they haven't,” Herlyn says with a shrug. “I'm good with it. Revenge cycle isn't going to catch, 'cause they don't have any idea who I am.”

You're more hesitant. “There's a lot of implications to faking your death,” you say. “Your stipend, for example. Skipping conscription is treason.”

Daginy hesitates, then shakes their head.

“None of that matters if I'm dead for real,” they say. “I- I'm not a fighter. If they catch up with me I'm dead.”

They look down and you sit back and sigh.

“Do you have any quadrants filled?” you ask, and they snort.

“I barely have friends,” Daginy says, steady. “Don't worry, no one will miss me too much.”

Herlyn stands and stretches.

“Well if I'm going to plant a body then I better get moving,” she says. “Where's the suncloak?”

You keep an eye on Daginy as Herlyn leaves. They sigh, just a little, resigned, then leans back into the couch, closing their eyes.

“How are you feeling?” you ask them, passing them another blanket. They look tired. You ought to get them a sopor patch and you get up to grab one.

“Tired,” they say. “Scared. I don't know.”

You return with a patch, and sit on the coffee table, handing them the patch.

“For when you want to sleep,” you say. “We probably shouldn't move you around too much right now.”

You shift, a little uncomfortably. What were you supposed to say to someone whose had their life destroyed? Who was currently in the process of ruining it further so they could stay alive?

“It'll be okay,” you say, regretting the words as soon as they drop from your mouth. They sound empty, even to you. “I mean- rest, okay? Heal. You can stay here as long as you need.”

You'll definitely need to move some of your animals out- you can't afford to feed them all, Daginy, and yourself, but you have more to share than Herlyn.

“What will I do after that?” They sound lost and you sigh.

“We'll figure it out when the time comes,” you say. “For now, you need to rest, alright?”

Daginy turns to look at you, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

“You're really nice,” they say, almost puzzled. “You're like the nicest person I've ever met.”

You smile, a little awkwardly. You're honestly not really sure how to react to that.

“I just want to help,” you say. “I'm not the only one like this, I promise, we're just not too common.”

They nod.

“I'm.. going to sleep now?” they say, looking at you like you're about to say no. You only nod.

“Good light,” you say, and retreat to your room.

–

Daginy does nothing but sleep for a week. They need help eating, with their hands as burned as they are, and you help spoon soup into their mouth.

They don't talk much, but you can tell they have a lot on their mind.

The next week, they're chatting with you more, asking what you do, healing slowly. Herlyn invites Ferra over to teach them how to pickpocket and pick locks. Whatever they choose to do in the future, it probably isn't going to be very legal. They pick it up quickly.

The third week, they're starting to walk by themselves again, their healing burns still tender. They spend time to themselves, thinking, but they've really started warming up to you, laughing, joking, arguing intensely about subjects that don't really matter.

At the end of the fourth week, they tell you they have an idea.

“I want to help people,” they say. “Like you, but you know, bigger.”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down the pan of brownies that Herlyn made. Herlyn peeks out from kitchen.

“What do you mean?” she calls out.

“I mean I want to help people,” Daginy says nodding. “Yes, I lost my hive and I'm fake dead, but that just means I don't have that stuff to hold me back anymore. What you did for me, I want to do for other people.”

You shake your head.

“How are you going to do that?” you ask. “I mean, I can't exactly take care of more people than I am already, and you, well- you don't exactly have a hive.”

Daginy shakes their head.

“You said there are others like you,” they say. “And there are others like me. We just need to be able to make sure that they can find each other.”

There's a grim determination in their jaw.

“I haven't figured everything out yet,” Daginy says. “But I think we could build a network of people who want to help. And help everyone. People who don't have a choice, who are running. People with mutations.”

They glance up at you, uncertain and vulnerable with their declaration but with a determined light that makes you think that they've already made up their mind.

“Mutants?” Herlyn says, walking into the living room stirring another batch of brownie mix. “You're talking straight up hemorebellion.”

Daginy nods hesitantly. Herlyn whistles.

“And I thought I was gonna be the one that brings the popo on our asses,” she says. “How're you gonna keep from getting your ass arrested?”

“How are they going to arrest someone that's dead?” they joke, raising a wry eyebrow. “We keep our tracks clean and don't take on more than we can.”

“We,” you comment. “You want our help.”

Daginy nods sort of sheepishly.

“Well, yes,” they say. “You say you want to help, don't you?” They look straight at you, expectantly, and you find yourself thrown.

“I mean-” you stutter. “There's a difference between helping someone right in front of you and- and- hemorebellion.”

Daginy sits back, a slight frown, disappointment written all over their face.

“I'm not worth any more than anyone else in my situation,” they say. “Or worse. They need help as much as I did.”

They're not disappointed you refused, they're disappointed in you.

“I think- I think I need some time,” you say. Daginy nods, still frowning, then gets up to get a brownie.

“Yeah,” they say. “Take your time I guess.”

You grab your moirail- Herlyn pushes the bowl of batter onto the kitchen table- and pull her to your room.

“Herlyn,” you say, as she picks you up and carries you into the pile. “Herlyn, this is crazy. Are you really thinking about doing this?”

She folds her arms around your waist and leans in, touching her forehead to yours.

“You know,” she says. “For all our talk about helping people, I think we just got showed up by this kid.”

You look up into her eyes and sigh.

“I know,” you say. “They're a good kid.”

“Are you scared?” she asks.

You consider it for a moment, then nod. “What they're proposing could get us all killed,” you say.

Herlyn nods, considering it. “We have known them for like a perigee,” she says. “But you know, I think its pretty safe to say we don't have to worry about them being an empire spy or anything.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No,” you say, “No, I don't think so.”

“Daginy is gonna do it,” Herlyn says. “Whether or not we get involved.”

You nod. Herlyn could see it too.

“I mean that means the question is less whether or not we want to be rebels,” she says, “and more if we can live with ourselves if Daginy goes out and gets themself killed and we could have helped them avoid it.”

You lean in and sigh.

“It is,” you say. “Isn't it.”

Herlyn pulls you into a hug.

“Honestly,” she says. “I'm in for it. I've always been kind of a rebel.”

You roll your eyes. “You don't say.” Herlyn chuckles into your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And you?”

You know what your answer is already, but you take time to think about it, to try to settle that knot growing in your throat, to think about the pros and cons and choices, and really consider, really, really, consider the opportunities.

“I need to talk with them more,” you say. “I'm open to it, but we need a real plan.” 

“Don't think they'll object,” Herlyn says. “I mean like, Daginy's really fucking smart. And you're really smart. You'll figure out something.”

“You're smart too,” you say. “Don't sell yourself short.”

Herlyn snorts. “I know what I'm bad at,” she says. “And this kind of smart ain't my kind of smart.”

You nod, acquiescing.

“Then let’s go,” you say and detangle yourself from the pile. Herlyn starts to get up, and you grab her hand, giving her knuckles a kiss. She smiles down at you, and helps you to your feet.  

“Let's go kick some ass,” she says, and you nod.

The resulting conversation lasts hours, spanning over several nights. You debate this and that, discuss your roles, and when you're done, you feel the buzz of anticipation and nervousness.

“What do we call ourselves?” Herlyn asks.

You exchange a glance with Daginy, uncertain. They bite their lip, shrugging.

“Well,” they say, “Alnica's technically in charge. So maybe we can just call ourselves the Magpie's Nest.”

You glance over at your lusus, the white dappled asshole, and raise your eyebrow.

“Isn't that a little on the nose?” you ask, a little embarrassed at the prospect of having this venture named after you. You're still not sure how you feel about being the spymaster. It's logically the most obvious choice, but you were also the most hesitant of the three to get started.

“Well we'll be gathering info that you'll be hoarding so,” Daginy shrugs. “Either way it's fitting.”

“Alright then,” you say. “The Magpie's Nest.”

[ladytrollfishes]

Herlyn: Worry pt 2

Pt 1

--

At some point you must have dozed off because you wake up to Daginy handing you your palmhusk back. 

“Oh thanks,” you say, rubbing your eyes with a yawn. 

They tap the screen with a casted finger, then retreat to their corner. You blink several times, listening to the soft tapping of Daginy typing slowly on their palmhusk. 

Yours lights up a moment later, and you see Daginy’s catfishing handle is texting yours. 

--harebrainedLibrarian [HL] started trolling blisteringBurnout [BB]--

HL: hey

BB: hey

HL: i realized i never actually thanked you for pulling me out of there

HL: so

HL: thanks

BB: np lol

BB: how are you feeling? 

HL: idk. tired. sad. 

HL: sorry i lost my temper with you earlier too. i don’t know whats wrong with me. 

BB: buddy its ok. you gotta let it out right? youre going through a lot of shit. 

BB: though maybe screaming at me and throwing shit and taking my stuff is a shitty fucking way of doing it. 

HL: ugh. sorry. 

BB: hey its fine but maybe yell at ferra next time. :P

There’s a long pause and when you look over, Daginy’s got their head in their knees again. When you look back at your screen you can see they’re typing again. 

HL: im sorry youre stuck with me

BB: wouldnt have it any other way tbh 

BB: instead of yelling so much maybe we could go set some stuff on fire instead. a+ stress relief would recommend

HL: .. i think im good

BB: oh right. you don’t like fire

HL: yeah. 

BB: sorry lmfao like honestly im sorry youre stuck with me bc im fucking awful at this

HL: i think you’re doing okay. 

There’s the sound of sniffling again, and you whisper, “Daginy?” They don’t look up at you, still typing, and you look at your phone again. 

HL: if i wanted a hug

HL: would you?

BB: duh

You put the palmhusk to the side then, and scooch towards Daginy, carefully leaning over and putting your arms around their little balled up self. They lean into you, resting their head on the crook of your shoulder as you give them a little squeeze. 

They push you away soon enough and you let them. 

“How’re you feelin’“ you ask quietly. They look back at you, their chin still tucked into their chest, staring up at you with one eye (how fucked up was that you still can’t imagine how anyone could do that)-- 

“Thanks, Herlyn,” they say. 

[ladytrollfishes]

💬 Herlyn

 You pull out your blade with a wet squelch, splattering yourself with blue blood. Another pile of clothes you need to burn, you guess. 

“Oh fuck,” Ferra whispers. 

“Eyup,” you say. You wonder if it wasn’t a bit of a mistake to take them on these trips, if they couldn’t take a little blood. You’re kind of surprised if that’s the case. When you were still running around in your crew of little monsters you definitely bled some people.  “Can you grab that shit in the bag? She took it from the little ferrety sucker at the end of the market.” 

You wipe your blades on your pants- they’re stained anyway, and they disappear off into your strife deck. 

“You didn’t have to off her if you just wanted the stuff back,” Ferra says, grabbing the bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m a goddamn thief, you moron.” 

You stand up straight, and look back at them. They raise an eyebrow. 

“Oh,” you say. “Oops.”

[ladytrollfishes]

Herlyn

You look at the paper, with your face looking straight back at you.

“Oh shiiiiiiit,” you say. “Handmaid’s tits, this is bad.”

“Yeah,” Ferra snaps, pacing back and forth. “Honestly, how did you not think this was a bad idea?! You were way reckless. Did you really need to yell at that last person before you set everything on fire? You really know how to make impression I’ll give you that much.”

They hold up their own portrait and look at critically.

“Yeah I don’t look like this at all. My face isn’t this round, and they got my hair wrong entirely. My nose is totally cuter than this too,” she says, rubbing it. “But they definitely got my horns.”

“Hey we saved Daginy, didn’t we?” you wave to them in the corner, but they barely respond. Daginy stares back at you, and looks down. They haven’t said much at all, since you pulled them out of there. All they do is watch and hide.  “And we found Izinal!” Izinal was still getting outfitted with Sipara’s parasitic limbs.

“None of which was the plan,” Ferra says. “I mean, finding Izzy was great and all, but like, not if we can’t stay fucking alive.”

“Well we can change up how we look,” you say. “I mean, me especially.”

“The time honored tradition of broken horns,” Ferra says. “You’re gonna need to troll up and do it.”

You make a face. “Euagh,” you say. “But I like my horns. They’re so tall and curvy.” You run your hands along them. Alnica likes them too.

Ferra puts their hands on their hips. “Yeah, but I bet you like being alive even more,” she says.

You sigh. “I guess so.”

“You should probably cut your hair and shave your eyebrows too,” she says, looking at you with a practiced eye.

“My eyebrows?” you exclaim. “Really?!”

“Your eyebrows define your face,” they inform you. “We’ll just draw you a different set.”

“Seriously?” you complain. “That’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Welcome to being a big time Criminal with a capital C,” Ferra replies matter-of-factly. “If you didn’t want to do this, you shouldn’t have started with all this shit in the first place.”

“Well, then I have no regrets,” you declare and recline in your chair.

“Then I’m gonna see if Sipara will let us borrow her hacksaw,” Ferra says and leaves the room, leaving you with Daginy.

You give them a grin.

“I bet I’ll look good as a short stack too,” you say, rubbing your horns. You’ll be sad to see them go yeah, but hey, horn caps means you can change them up and everything. You’re definitely hanging onto your old ones and everything.

Daginy stares back at you, and gives you a silent thumbs up.

[ladytrollfishes]

Daginy: Keep Moving.

A collection of four drabbles where in one way or another, Daginy continues on. 

– 

Herlyn: Say goodbye.

 “You’re sure you want to do this?” Alnica’s voice is quiet at your side. Daginy shifts, peering up at the both of you and adjusting their glasses.

 They’re so small, honestly. You remember seeing that little figure crumpled on the street with a boot on their chest. The task they’re taking on is huge in comparison. You’re not sure you should let them go through with this.

 “Yeah,” they say, adjusting their glasses. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

 They’ve got a steely look in their eye, and you remember that the little figure also flipped the bird at a charging highblood.

 Alnica nods. “Of course,” she says. There isn’t a trace of hesitation in her voice. You know though, she has doubts about Daginy’s side of the bargain. You’ve discussed it into daylight, between the two of you, but Daginy, Daginy wouldn’t hear word of it.

 They no longer had an identity, they said. They didn’t have a hive. They didn’t have anything that would have tied them to a regular life. It was a huge blow, yes, but this was a chance for them to turn it into an opportunity.

 You’d have to tie them up and throw them in the closet to make them stay, and Alnica already said no.

 “It’ll be okay,” Daginy says. “I can’t live on your couch forever either.”

 “True,” Alnica says with a nod. “But be careful out there.”

 “We’ll be right here if you need anything, bud,” you say, pulling Alnica close to you. “You just let us know okay?”

 They nod and smile at you.

 “I’ll be in touch,” they say, and turn to leave. You sigh as you lean your face against Alnica’s horn.

 “I hope they don’t immediately get themself killed,” you say.

 Alnica puts a hand over yours. “Think more positively please,” she says. She’s got her eyes fixed on Daginy’s fast retreating back. She’s worried, you can tell. You shouldn’t make it worse.

 You start steering her back into the apartment and she sighs. “We’re really doing this, huh?” she says.

 You press a kiss to her horn. “Yup,” you say. “Together. Every step of the way.

 Ferra: Confront the instigator

 You run to catch up to Daginy. It’s sheer chance you see them at all, on the busy sidewalk.

 “Hey!” you yell. “Hey, wait up!”

 They turn to look at you, and there’s a moment of confusion on their face before they scan the crowd. Alnica and Herlyn aren’t here though, and you’re glad for it. You need to talk to them alone.

 You grab them by the arm and start steering them away from the crowded street.

 “Let’s find somewhere more private to talk, yeah?” you say.

“I feel like I’m being kidnapped,” Daginy quips, giving you a wary glance but follows along anyway.

 You find an alleyway that’s sufficiently quiet. You pull them against the wall and keep a lookout on anyone passing by.

 “I wouldn’t have taught you how to pick locks if I knew you were going to be doing this,” you whisper harshly. “Robbery is one thing, but treason? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

 Daginy stares up at you.

 “Seriously?” they say. “Right here?”

 “Well I’m not bringing you hive and you don’t have one,” you say irritably. “Loud enough here to keep people from listening in.”

 They consider that and nod.

 “Okay fine,” they say. “But still. Who even told you?”

 “Herlyn can’t lie worth jackshit,” you say. At least to you. “You’re going to get her and Alnica killed too. Did you eat sopor as a wrigger or something ‘cause this little crusade you’re going on here is endangering everyone around you.”

You lean over them, one hand on your hip, the other poking at their presumably hole filled pan. You’ve never met anyone so smart, and yet so entirely stupid. 

Daginy stares back at you with a surprising amount of animosity. 

 “Herlyn and Alnica are big girls,” they say, putting a hand on your shoulder and pushing you away.. “They can make their own decisions, and so can I.” They pull their arm from your grip. “If you have a problem with what they’re doing, take it up with them.”

 “I’ve got a problem with what you’re doing too, idiot,” you hiss. “You’ll just die in a few months, and then what? Nothing you’ve done will be worth anything then.”

 “Thanks for the faith,” they snap right back. “What else am I going to do, huh? Get a new hive? Get a regular job? I’m supposed to be dead.”

 “I’m not saying you go straight,” you say. “But do things that are at least slightly less illegal than espionage.”

 They stare you dead in the eye.

 “No.”

 They take a step back and stuff their hands in their pockets.

 “You’re not changing my mind, Ferra,” they say. “Take it up with Herlyn and Alnica if you have a problem with them going along with me.”

 They take two steps backward and disappear around a corner.

 —-

 Alnica: Care for your flock.

 There’s a knock at your door. You’re not expecting anyone, but you leap to your feet anyway. You haven’t seen Daginy in a few perigees.

 Ever since they found a tech guy who was on board with the whole hemorebel business, they had limited in-person visits and instead sent encrypted emails from dummy addresses with what they were up to.

 If they were here in person, they needed something. They almost never called ahead. When you open the door however, it’s Herlyn. She’s holding her shoulder, she’s got a bloody nose, and she’s quickly developing a black eye.

 “Herlyn!” you exclaim, stepping aside and letting her limp in.

 As soon as the door shuts behind you, the illusion disappears, and you find yourself looking up at empty space. When you look down, it is Daginy, holding their shoulder, with a bloody nose and a black eye.

 “Sorry about that,” they say. “Didn’t want to show up without a disguise.”

 You blink, startled, then collect yourself. They need care. You step forward and guide them to the couch.

 “I think my shoulder’s dislocated?” they say.

 “What happened?” you ask as you help them take off their coat. Yeah, that’s a dislocation. Their arm is hanging from the socket oddly.

 “I was listening in on that pickpocket ring when one of them saw me,” they say. “Grabbed me by my arm and slammed me up against the wall.”

 You feel your bloodpusher drop. You knew that this was going to be a part of the job, but knowing it is different than seeing Daginy bruised up in front of you. 

 Herlyn ran around and got her butt kicked all the time, but Herlyn walked into fights. You were always pretty sure the other trolls walked away worse for wear than she did. Daginy walked into beatings.

 “Alnica?” they say, and you realize you’ve paused.

 “Sorry,” you say. “Yeah, that’s a dislocation. I’m going to need to pop it back in, and then you should rest that shoulder for at least a few weeks.”

 They nod, and brace themself for the pain. You shift in your seat and in one motion, you slide the bone back into it’s socket. Daginy only grunts, but you can see the tightness in their face.

 “I don’t have a few weeks,” they say. “There’s a subbjuggulator party happening over the weekend and I need to figure out the key players I-”

 “You’re sneaking into the circus?” you whisper hushed. “You can’t-”

 They shake their head.

 “No, I can,” they say. “See?” White flickers over their face and suddenly a clown grins at you on the couch from where Daginy was just sitting.

 “Handmaid help us,” you sigh, and they flicker back.

 “I’ll be fine,” they say. “I’m being careful.”

 You don’t say anything else, but pull out a length of bandage.

 “Party or no,” you say, “I don’t want you moving this arm.”

 They sigh as you wrap them up in a sling so their movement is restricted. You get the feeling the only reason they’re tolerating this is because they know you’d insist.

 “I’ll be fine,” they say. “I can work around the arm. Turns out I’m pretty good at this you know.”

 You pause for a moment before you go back to work. You can tell they don’t want to worry you, but you just want to make sure they stay alive.

 “I worry because I care,” you say. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. But if you’re going to be doing this kind of thing I need to know you’re taking care of yourself, okay?”

 They have their face turned away from you when they say, “Yeah, okay.”

 —-

 Daginy: Be Okay.

 You can’t put it off any longer. You can’t, in good conscience, carry your lusus around with you any more. The missions you’ve been receiving are getting longer, harder, more dangerous. You’re good at your job sure, but there’s always a chance you make a mistake.

 You’re having a hard time getting her the warmth she needs in the coming winter months, and you just can’t guarantee her safety anymore.

 She curls up in your collar, putting her slow mitten hand on your chin as you knock. You’ve developed the habit of changing your appearance whenever you come here so Alnica looks like she has friends who aren’t you or Herlyn.

 Alnica opens the door and lets you in without comment. She’s seen this disguise of yours before.

 “Daginy,” she says. It’s been awhile since you’ve heard your name, to be honest. You missed it.

 You dissipate the illusion.

 “Alnica,” you say. Herlyn’s sitting behind her on the couch and when she turns to look at you, she jumps to her feet.

 “Daginy!” she exclaims and rushes over to you, arms outstretched. You let her grab you up in a hug, but you tense enough that she drops you pretty fast. “Hey, it’s been forever!” She leans forward to look at you and you have to take a step back.

 It’d been too long since you’d come back. You forgot how much Herlyn could be.  Or what a hug felt like, to be honest. Herlyn, though, steps back, looking hurt.

 You bite your lip, feeling guilty. “I uh,” you stutter. “Sorry?”

 You glance at Alnica who’s peering at you too.

 “Are you okay?” she asks you gently. You don’t like feeling like some scared lusus she needs to talk down.

 “I uh, I just need my space,” you say. All the scrutiny makes you itch. That’s usually when you need to get the heck outta there, but this wasn’t random people. This was Herlyn and Alnica. “I’m fine.”

 “Well why don’t we get settled first?” Alnica suggests and starts waving everyone towards the couches. “I’ll get some food.”

 Herlyn plops herself on the couch, arms folded, somewhat unhappy, you suppose, at you, for being less than responsive. You wish you knew how to talk to her about it. Blackmail and coercion was easier than this.

You sit in silence until Alnica returns with some sandwiches, which you’re pretty thankful for. You grab one and stow it in your pocket before you take one to eat.

 “So how have you been?” Alnica asks.

 “I’m fine,” you say through a mouthful of food. You wipe the crumbs on your sleeve. “This is really good, by the way.”

 “I saw in your last report we lost a member,” she prods.

“Oh yeah,” you say, faltering. “I- yeah. It wasn’t good. Had to leave him behind.”

 You push yourself back into the couch. The mission was a success, but it was at a high cost. You took the information you wanted, but your exit plan had gone awry and you had to fight your way out. He played decoy– he was better in a fight, and you were always great at running away.

 “Daginy?” Alnica says again, and you start and look at her. “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine,” you say. The look she gives you says she doesn’t believe you. Herlyn doesn’t either, but at least she’s not crossing her arms anymore. She’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her arms draping down to the floor. “I’m not here about that though. I need to ask you a favor.”

 “What do you need?”

 You put down your sandwich before you reach into your collar and pull out your lusus.

 “Can you take care of her?” you ask. “I probably should have asked about it earlier, but you know, I uh, I didn’t want to say goodbye.” 

Your lusus grips your finger a little more tightly than usual and you kind of clutch at her. You still don’t want to say goodbye.

 “Are you sure?” Alnica leans forward, looking concerned. “You’ll be alone out there.”

 “Yeah,” you say with a nod. “I can’t make sure she’s safe if she’s with me. She deserves better than this.”

 “So do you,” she says quietly, but you pretend not to hear. She reaches her hands out to take your lusus, but your mom doesn’t exactly want to let go of your fingers. It takes a bit of detangling before she’s safely in Alnica’s hands.

 “Thanks,” you say, a knot in your throat. “It uh, means a lot. And uh, the sandwiches were good.”

 Alnica spends some time grappling with your lusus. When she’s finally settled on her fingers, you give her a little goodbye wave and stand.

 “Well, I shouldn’t overstay my welcome,” you say. “Thanks again.” If you stay longer you might not want to leave.

 Alnica stands too. “Nonsense,” she says. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

 “This is bullshit,” Herlyn says finally. “Stop pretending you’re okay.”

 You turn to look at her. She’s standing too, arms crossed again, with her hair is blowing in the invisible winds that always kicked up about her when she was upset.

 “You can’t just come in here, drop off your lusus, tell us everything is fine, and you’re fine,” she exclaims, tossing her hands in the air. “Do I have to remind you that that’s the lusus you ran back into a burning building to save? You can’t just ditch her and expect us to believe you’re just okay with it.”

 You blink, astonished, and turn to look at Alnica. She’s looking at Herlyn, exasperated, but when she looks at you, she doesn’t disagree, her mouth pressed into a worried line.

 You wet your lips and look back at Herlyn.

 “I um- I’m not okay with it but-”

 “Then don’t do it!” she blurts out, throwing her hands up. “Take a break! Goddammit Daginy, do something for yourself once in awhile why don’t you? You don’t always have to do the right thing!”

 You can’t help the jab of fear from the outburst, but that makes you feel ungrateful. Herlyn’s not trying to hurt you, but she is talking about is a life you’ve left entirely behind, because what you have in front of you is work, important work and a lot of it, and you intend to get through as much of it as possible before you die.

You do take small breaks when you need them, but there is no one who does your job like you do, and if you don’t do it, people suffer. You can’t put down everything at a whim.

 But you get why she’s angry– she cares, she really does, and you feel a strong rush of affection for her. It makes a grub of you, soft and baby tender, and you can’t stomach it for more than a minute.

 “It’s okay,” you say softly, holding your hands out, palms and scars up, fingers soft.  “It’s okay, really.” Herlyn stares down at you, anger fading into something akin to confusion.

 Tears bead up in the corner of your eyes as you try to figure out how to make her understand why you can’t– why you don’t need–

 “This is as okay as I’ll ever be,” you say tightly. “I knew that when I started this, okay? I’m okay.”

 You’re making a spectacle of yourself. You can’t quite look Alnica or Herlyn in the eye, and you nod at them both.

 “I do have to go,” you say. “Thank you both, really. I–” your voice falters again. “I really can’t explain how much I owe you guys.” 

Alnica says “Wait-” but you don’t. You pull a trick you’ve figured out, where you leave your image where it is a second or two after you move, and make it halfway to the door before they’ve even realized you’ve moved.

 You step through the door and make a run for it. It’s what you’re good at, after all.

[ladytrollfishes]

Daginy: Begin again.

You lose yourself in long stretches of time without doing anything.

It’s like you can’t remember how to act anymore. You don’t have the energy for it the bravery for it. It’s all you can do to exist.

You felt this before. Times where you’ve gotten hurt when you’ve lost when you’ve failed, but picking yourself up again has never felt harder.

It seems ridiculous now that you’re out that making a decision as simple as moving could scare you so badly. The standards Aubade set were drilled into you so hard you don’t know where they start and where they stop, but you know it wasn’t right.

You know Ferra, Herlyn, Izinal, they won’t hit you if you flinch, but you’re still scared, and honestly with Sipara, you’re not sure.

But you’re safe now. You should be safe.

You spend more time doing nothing until Ferra comes in with soup.

“Here,” she says. You’re laying on your side on the couch and she sits down at the edge of the seat next to you, careful not to touch you. They balance the tray on their lap. “You haven’t eaten in ages.”

You have to respond. You’re already scared, you don’t know what they want. You’re not sure if you should get up- you’d have to, to eat soup.

“Come on,” Ferra says, a verbal prod. You move then, slowly pushing yourself up. Your wrists do not like bending, your back protests at every movement. 

You draw yourself up so that you can look her in the eye. You can’t do it for very long. Instead you look down at the soup.

It’s a sort of stew, thick, with chunks of vegetables and meat, and you can’t do it. You can’t eat it.

You hate soup. You specifically hate soup you didn’t make yourself. It doesn’t matter how hungry you are- you aren’t eating something that can be dosed so easily.

“Oh right,” Ferra says. “Fingers.” They are broken. “Let me help you with that.” They pick up the spoon and dip it into the soup lifting it to your lips.

You freeze. You breathe in blood and pain and breath out fear. Aubade’s leaning forward, you hand in hers, as she spoon feeds you.

“Come on,” she says, her voice distorted. “Eat.”

Depend on me, she as good as says. Trust me.

“C'mon,” she says again, the spoon bumping against your lip, spilling onto your chin. “You gotta eat.”

You don’t move.

“Daginy!” Ferra exclaims in frustration, and puts the bowl back down. You breathe again, back in Sipara’s basement, in a different small room with a different person you were thinking of. “You never do what’s good for you, goddammit!”

What she does is put the tray on the table and stand, throwing her hands up on the air.

“Fine,” they snap. “Eat it yourself, since that’s how you like to do everything,”

She walks out without a second glance.

What she doesn’t do is reach over, take hold of a finger and wrench it backwards until it breaks. She doesn’t tell you punishing ungrateful brats is the only way they’ll learn to appreciate what’s good in life because you’re lucky she’s giving you a second chance. She doesn’t wipe away your tears and feed bland, tasteless food and promise that things will just be okay if you just tell her everything.

You reach out for the bowl, barely healed skin stretching painfully, cupping it in both hands, the casts clacking against the sides. You tilt it, your wrists protesting from the movement and pour the contents into the tray. The soup slides slowly out of it, each chunk of food inside plopping out with little splashes.

It’s viscerally satisfying and when you’re done, soup has spilled through the hand holds and pooled a little onto the table. You place the empty bowl back on the tray in the middle of the soupy mess and lay back down even as your stomach growls.

This was a victory. You’re out.

You’re really out. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Drew Herlyn and @mirkstrolls‘ Taz as they appear in this drabble. 

doin a party heist 

[ladytrollfishes]

DVD writing meme

“Daginy,” you say, as gently as you can, sliding in next to them, careful still not to touch. “You need to like, get a grip okay? We’re not going to hurt you and we’re here to help, so maybe stop biting off all of our heads. I know it’s been a rough time for you but like, there’s only so much we can even do. We can barely keep our own damn selves safe, you know? We don’t have time to chase after every asshole that needs help in the world.”

“I hate being useless,” Daginy murmurs, propping their chin on their knee, still not looking at you.

“And you’re not,” you affirm. You’re lying through your teeth. You doubt that rebelling has done anything of importance in the history of Alternia. “But you have to rest, Dag, or you will be, because you’ll be dead.”

They glance up at you then, almost shyly through the eyelashes of their remaining eye, and your pumper just about breaks. Herlyn’s wrong. You don’t have a pale crush on them. You have no idea what quadrant you want them in, only that you do, and you suspect they’re all out.

“Yeah,” they whisper. “I know.”

You hold your arms out for them. “Hug?” you ask.

They glance at you, considering it, then shake their head. “Thanks,” they say. “But I’m good.”

You try not to feel too slighted, as you nod.

==> Ferra: Be so goddamn conflicted.

Ferra’s having a rough time with just about everything here. There’s complicated history, it’s been awhile since they’ve seen Daginy, and it’s both a process of reconciling the Daginy she knew before all this and the Daginy she has in front of her and trying to cope with the sheer amount of trauma they’re dealing with. 

Daginy used to ask Ferra for help on certain missions that probably just needed an assist for breaking and entering, but they dropped off with that after their failed attempt at dating and never breathed a word to her about how difficult things could be for them or what they were even doing. 

Ferra’s probably one of my more self aware characters tbh. She knows what’s going on with her feelings for the most part, but sometimes she just doesn’t wanna deal with it. Daginy represents far too many things for Ferra not to be upset and confused about it, but she at least knows she can’t put her feelings on them because some of it is her own baggage and also because they’d probably fall apart. 

Ferra’s ex-rail, Saiyal, was culled in an attempt to save his then matesprit, Izinal, from getting ganked by the IEP. He did this without telling Ferra, because when they had previously discussed it, she had told him, essentially, there was no way it was going to happen and she wouldn’t be helping. So he did it without her help. 

There’s been the question inside her head ever since about whether or not he’d be alive if she had gone with him the first time. She helped this time, with Daginy, and honestly thanks to her showing up, they’re all alive. So now the question is mostly settled now, in favor of “yeah, he might still be alive if I had helped.” 

In some ways this last attempt to save Daginy brought back some of the guilt she feels regarding Saiyal’s death, but Daginy’s alive, and she even got Izinal back too, which has had her kind of conflate the two, even if they were completely different people. 

Their dating attempt had been pitch, but now there’s a whole mix of pity in there, with some of that conflation with Saiyal and also just the friggen state they’re in after the whole thing with Lyrian. She’s flip flopping all over the place. She’s tried pity and sympathy but they’ve completely rejected it (see that drabble where they refused to let her feed them and then dumped the soup she gave them out on the table). Plus with Mysmus coming in waving white flags everywhere but Daginy can see, she’s pretty much accepted that she’s never going to be that kind of person to them, even if she’s disgruntled about it. 

On a more platonic level though- she’s totally pissed that she risked her life for them and they can’t seem to stop snubbing her. 

Daginy has been more openly hostile towards Ferra than the other people in the party mostly because they sort of see Ferra as a controlling figure and they sure as heck do not want to be controlled.  This is pretty much subconscious on their part. They’re not going out of their way to do it, but at this point they’re a total mess of painful feelings they can’t make sense of and it leads to them acting on the impulses without the ability to process why, or what they should be doing or saying. 

This particular drabble has Ferra managing to call them out on it gently, and Daginy pulling out of the pain long enough to see that- yeah, something needs fixing here and trying to open up briefly as a signal of “yes, I do trust you.” 

Their previous relationship rivalry was basically set in the whole conflict of “you’ll never get anything done rebelling” vs “just social climbing isn’t going to get you any real respect.” They respected each other’s skill sets and abilities but they couldn’t agree ideologically, but it manifested in a lot of ways as Ferra trying to get them to sit still, and Daginy flipping her the bird. Now Daginy has to sit, and they don’t appreciate it. At all. They didn’t before, and now there’s a hell of a trauma layer to it. 

Also tbh, now Ferra’s permanently flipping the bird too and she is also less than pleased about it. She resents being illegal though she knew it was a pretty likely result of her going in like that.

Also the nature of their relationship before was antagonistic- Daginy might ply the sympathy card whenever they can but they still have pride. They don’t appreciate pity from a hatefriend. 

Honestly I completely forget the reason why Daginy refused the hug in this particular drabble. I know I came up with one, but I can’t remember it now. 

I’m gonna just say it’s more of the pity from a hate friend thing. They seriously considered it, but touch is a thing that they can only stand so much of. They can’t help but conflate the ability to touch them with the ability to control them and Ferra already represents somewhat of a controlling figure. The ability to say no and have that be respected without qualm- very important for Daginy to be able to do. Ferra realizes this- she just doesn’t like it very much in this moment. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Recovery Drabbles

I’ve been doing the bulk of my rps on discord, but a lot of the drabbles ive been writing deal directly with the events on such. So I figure I should put some stuff into context!

----

Daginy: Begin Again

tfw u got rescued from ur torture room and you gotta figure out how to decide things again

torture & manipulation mentions

Daginy: Backread

tfw Herlyn spills all your problems online and asks random people for help. 

shes using and alias and not giving out names so its ultimately p harmless

Herlyn’s pretending to be ur fake moirail online anyway

Ferra: Fuss

Daginy has convinced the crew to lay low in the Mouth, a small town in the mountains, bringing along pale crush Mysmus, and then springs on everyone that they are also here to exorcise a v powerful ghost from Maecii

Herlyn: Worry

Herlyn tells Sipara who she is on her fake moirail tag, risking some of daginy’s catfishing plans

Also she spills some of daginy’s medical problems, which they do not apprectiate