#i know i already wrote ardbert but i wanted to do it again

[flowerwept]

@antipyre said: ✍️  + WAIT can you do ardbert too would you be mad

On the Source things feel so normal. And were it not for the circumstances that brought them here, Ardbert might say he’s enjoying himself. Remembering why he started this in the first place. There’s an indescribable joy at seeing new places and meeting new people. But that burden knocks on the underside of his skull always, and a little bit of guilt presses into his fingers every time Ardbert picks up his axe again / again / again / forge ahead, always -- till the bitter end, and with their luck it would certainly leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

The snow crunches underneath his heels. Ishgard reminds Ardbert of Voeburt--he knows if even he can make this connection, then Branden must be especially struggling and attempting to reconcile his own experiences back home with this new land. Corruption: always a moment away. Never any time to rest. But here they are villains, not heroes, and it is not their job to clean up the mess.

“Elf names are said so strangely here,”  and Ardbert’s shoulder knocks Nyelbert’s as he passes the mage, attempting to wrestle some banter back into the day.  “Wouldn’t you say so, Naillebert?”  Nyelbert shoots him a look from underneath the wide-brimmed hat, and Ardbert could swear things were okay. Maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend we’re back home -- maybe when I open them --

“’Tis a better alias than ‘Arbert,’“  the mage retorts, arms crossing in front of him crossly.

“That, I cannot deny,”  Ardbert laughs and his cheeks dimple, spread of freckles catching the harsh winter sun. A hand rubs at his neck.  “Call it panic. Or stupidity.”

“Or both,”  Renda-Rae chimes in, and it’s Ardbert’s turn to shoot a look / but he can’t play the villain all the way through, and the glare falls short just a moment too soon before it can have any real weight to it -- falling short seems to be a talent of his.

“Alright, alright. In my defense, coming up with a name is a difficult endeavor!”  He’d already done it once with Ardbert and he wouldn’t be assed to try it again any time soon.  “But point taken.”

[inviouswriting]

Cruore

It literally means “flowing blood”

Half original. Half going on the recent story I wrote.

Mentioned characters - 

Meeps/Fae - @meepsthemiqo

Shuri - @maiden-born-in-snow

Yume @earthlystar 

Some warnings in here for touching on Kivera’s descent in Hell.

Kivera is use to the smell of blood, the world she is from is full of it. The underworld, the realm of the dead. Her world she has known after her death from the hands of Bathory. She knows the realm inside and out, from the deepest pits in Tartarus and Hell itself. To the highest peak in Purgatory where she watches those who come before her. Seeking passage to Paradise.

Her punishment as much as bestowment. Punishment for her sin, bestowment for her servitude. She is under Thanatos and Hades. She does their work without question, and never asks the Fates of their reasons.

Kivera is capable of seeing the world up to the earliest of her memories she remembers. In other times she has witnessed how civilization takes hold and grows over periods. Other worlds, she sees how far behind, or how they destroy themselves.

The smell she is use to is that of flowing blood. She is use to it so much it doesn’t phase her like her fledgling days. So Kivera stands over a sight she is accustomed to people pleading her for a difference. To be let into Paradise, on behalf of some good merit they did.

“You have not learned yet, and I cannot let you through.” Her voice echoed in the hall, softer as she addressed the face before her, another of many. One she’ll forget after a few days. She sees so many. Her mind constantly drifting back to her interactions in The Source.

She had let a few dozen through, and encountered only a few people who need to humble their hearts more. Still full of resentment.

“Why do you get to play as judgement here?” The words echo in her mind.

“That is just the way things are.. I just do.” She says automatically. Practiced words, ones she has said countless times. The faces change, her words remain the same as she gives these people their tasks and trials to complete. Till she grows tired of doing this, letting the realm do their part.

She retreats to her personal space, and replays the events that she had done. Her own hands burn from when she used her hell flames on Ardbert. She still feels their heat. She had marked three people to keep an eye on. Cid, G’raha, and Ardbert. She had tied their lives into her own spirit. She had to do something to keep them from meddling. 

Kivera recalls her encounter with Cid. He was busy with something he had worked on, barely even noticed her slipping in through a mirror. Before he had known, he felt something graze through his back and touch his very soul before searing heat engulfed him internally. When he had turned around, he was met with the blunt end of a scythe raising him up and pinning him to the wall nearby.

“You’re Shuri and Estinien’s lover?”

“That saves me time. I know you, and have watched you for a while now.” Kivera’s eyes were a bright green behind her mask, and he sees black surrounding them. He felt his limbs as if they were freezing in place.

“What is this about? Surely you are not?”

“Just be quiet and listen to me. You of all people should heed me. You are very much alive, and I am very much capable of ending that now. Right here. So I have a warning for you.”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“No you do not. Either you heed it or you rather not know what will happen. You have stepped into a world and realm you have no business in. One that WILL kill you. If you have any sort of devotion to your beloved, Yume. You will stay out of the time temporals. I let the events of The First slide, because I was meant to stay out. But I won’t have you setting foot where you shouldn’t now. Be with your lover.” Cid feels his arms returned to normal but his legs felt heavy as stone. 

“I can’t just abandoned my work.” He tries to bargain with her.

“I never said you didn’t have to stop. Just not mess with time. It does not lead to anything good.” She warns him. Her voice softer than he remembered, but in the empty room it was haunting as she is the border between two realms. He notes how with ease she lifts him, not even shaking in her hold bearing his weight at the end of her scythe. 

“I’ll try not to.” He is met with a glare behind the mask, irises flashing orange in her annoyance. He feels his body returned to normal in the way he doesn’t feel his body stone and the blood rushing back through him. Kivera turns and tosses him with her scythe across the room.

Kivera wanders to the door to the workshop and exits it, scaring Wedge with the sudden slam of the door. She stalks out and goes to stand in the center of Revenant’s Toll, she still had one more person to see within this place..

Kivera’s memories of what happened after replay, she had only intended to scare the miqo. 

“Maledetto! Ardbert! Why did you have to....“ She throws a fireball across the floor letting it race and fizzle out before it reaches her scrolls. She had lingered in a mirror when she spied on the meeting at Rising Stones. She saw the way her loved ones defended her name. How Shuri didn’t reveal everything about her, Divinity had to disclose, she doesn’t blame her for talking about her so much. Explaining her reason and resolve.

She sees how haunted G’raha Tia looks at how the Scions seem to just accept it, not wanting to make a further mess by targeting her as an enemy. They are wise in that choice. They know her power already with Amaurot. How she can raze a world, how she can destroy something without a thought. They see keeping her on their side more vital than a dispute.

Kivera felt guilty for how she treated G’raha, but she did not feel sorry for the way she went about her methods. He had to know the gravity of his meddling. That the lives he altered permanently, they have to deal with the repercussions. Meeps and Fae both have to come to terms with their feelings. How to raise a child without their parent they had spent.

“A parent is a god in the eyes of a child.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, she would never have that opportunity. Her life had been snuffed out decades ago. She regrets attacking Ardbert, he had just gained her trust. Then shattered it with careless words.

Antares’ orb reflects her eyes in a deep blue at that feeling. She cared, she knows their interaction is unavoidable. She feels the familiar pricks in her mind from Divinity searching for her. She quickly shuts her out, unable to really show the Libra spirit the sorrow she feels. 

Ardbert used it as a means to provoke her, and she let loose on him. To draw her attention off G’raha, and onto him full force. It worked, she had attacked him in pain, they had exchanged blows to the point she had invoked Pluto into her own body. A deity of destruction. If Divinity hadn’t intervened. She is certain Ardbert might not be around due to the magnitude of what she was about to unleash on him.

Kivera feels another prick into her link, and sighs as she curls into one of the beds she keeps to lounge on. 

“Te amo.. You and Shuri.” She gives Divinity what she seeks. Her response to ensure she would come back to them.

Her mind drifts to the time she spent in Hell. Wandering as a broken soul, stumbling blinded, and torn apart almost from the many who saw a pristine being and set about ruining her in every which way. She feels the hands still when they gouged skin or her eyes.

She resigns her thoughts to another thing, she needed to see Chiron. He helped her through the days following Damien’s death, then after when the conditions of his revival were placed on her. When she was asked when she would return. She answered after she visits the Sagittarius spirit. She needed tempering in her abilities, how to redirect her anger, her alignment had shifted in that fight to a little more chaotic than her neutral state. 

She’d have to summon G’raha when she returned. Any explanation she should give him, is best from herself. She didn’t need her loved ones apologizing on her behalf for losing herself.

Kivera ruffles the hair of Silvara, the sphinx raises her head to eye her.

“Tell me of a riddle.” Kivera asks her, and Silvara thinks about it.

“You are planning to see him?” A nod and she stretches herself across the reaper’s body.

“No.” Kivera snaps her attention to her.

“Why?” She was being denied entry.

“You know what must be done. A riddle nor Chiron will give you more answer than what you already know.” Silvara feels Kivera stir underneath her, and only presses down, grateful for her lion like body having some weight to pin the angel down.

“And what is that answer?!” She is met with a smirk.

“That would give away the answer.” Kivera tries to slip out from her grasp. Silvara keeps her there. Not inclined to move off and lets her frustrated curses be sound in her ears.

“Maledetto!!!!!” 

“Silenzio!” Silvara chirps back taunting her. Kivera blinks, and resigns herself.

She did know what needed to be done.

Apologies to those involved. She had let her own wrath speak for her. 

“Forgiveness right?” She says quietly.

“Bingo. Head scratches.” Silvara demands. Kivera sighs and gives the sphinx pets on her head. She won’t be allowed up unless she does.

“Don’t eat my books again in my absence.” Kivera reminds her.

“They were ones that you wouldn’t miss!”

“Silvara! Don’t eat my books! Eat Chirons! He has more than me.” Silvara gets off of her finally, and lets the reaper up.

“You’re going back right?” Silvara takes over Kivera’s spot.

“I need to. I did some things I shouldn’t have, and there is a few who miss me already.”

“Divinity always did worry when you up and leave. Even in Paradise.”

“I have a role to do, and I must see it through.” Kivera starts towards a mirror, to head back to the world she ran away from in pain.

“Don’t burn people too much again.”

“Aww... that is my specialty.” Kivera sees the grin on the sphinx, then promptly curls her wings around herself.

Kivera enters through her mirror, she had some atonements to make.

~~~~~

Translation note -

“Damn you!”

“Silence.”

[aethernoise]

56. Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging (for the sensory ask, if you like!) :D

crashes back in here months later with approx 800 words of Alyx/Aymeric post-Shadowbringers hurt/comfort aaaahH (thanks for your patience)

-

Alyx woke up sick again, and accepted it was time to stop hiding in plain sight. 

Ryne assured her that her aetheric balance had been restored to normal, but it had become increasingly clear that the Lightwarden’s aether had left its mark on her flesh. Alyx’s outer wounds had healed, but her body still felt burned on the inside. The physical healing process seemed to involve (among other things) sudden and violent bouts of nausea, which she could only pass off as teleportation sickness for so long.

Aymeric was far too clever for that.

Of many possible explanations for the symptoms she attempted to conceal, the truth definitely seemed the least appealing and the most difficult to muster.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said in the painful silence. 

He said nothing and his face tired and ashen with wheels spinning rapidly, mired in a mixture of conflicting emotions. She had not shared with him the details of her victory in Norvrandt until now. Though he had plainly observed evidence of her fatigue, he had no idea the full extent of the physical trauma and danger she had put herself in to save the First. 

“I almost told you, a few times,” Alyx continued. “I tried. I wrote you an entire letter I was going to ask Feo Ul to deliver if—”

“If?”

The word hung in the room darkly, forcing her to give voice to the answer he had already begun to put together.

“If the worst should happen,” she said. Her chest felt tight. “Whatever way it happened.”

Aymeric took a single deep breath and trusted a portion of his weight to the door frame. Neither of them should have been awake at this hour.

“And this letter, this confession–needless to say vital piece of information regarding your wellbeing,” his words were calm but his eyes were dark with a sort of helpless frustration, “what became of it?” 

Ardbert’s cracking voice in her Pendants room came crashing into her memory like a rush of cold water, his tearful smile outside of the Capitol gateway when she crumpled and lit the folded parchment in front of him was heavy as lead.

“I burned it,” she said, “I burned it because I decided I would not need it. That I would be able to come home to tell you myself.” 

Aymeric gave her a tired and wry smile that undoubtedly meant something like “and here we are.”

“But I didn’t know how,” Alyx confessed. She was exhausted by shame and trying not to cry. Words started to bubble up in her throat like bile and she let them come, despite her worry she’d be sick again. 

“I still don’t, exactly. How…how do I stand here and tell you that I was dying an entire world away? That if I survived, I could have become a monster and begged my companions to kill me? I was barely myself. I couldn’t…. Surely you understand why I didn’t want you to know.”

A beat of silence, a heavy breath.

“Of course I understand,” Aymeric’s voice was low and gentle but there was something fierce there too, restrained. He shook his head. 

“It changes nothing. You have shown me demons before and I have not fled, nor have I despaired–yet it pains me that after all this time, you still wait for me to hear tell of your worst moments from others, or only reveal them to me when you are all but crushed beneath their weight.” 

Rhalgr’s Reach. Doma. Whitebrim. Her record was stacked against her, plain as day. She had no excuse, other than her inability to compare anything that had happened before.

“This was worse,” she whispered. “It was so much worse.”

Admitting it aloud loosened some lasting restraint in her and she began to crumble. Her tears were hot when they finally broke from her eyes and she blinked furiously, obscuring Aymeric’s shadow looming warmly over her. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words and simply took her firmly into his arms. 

“Fury’s grace, Alyx,” he sighed, “You needn’t prove to me your bravery.” 

She clung to him and let the pressure of his embrace stifle her trembling.

Her voice was tiny and muffled against his chest. “Are you angry with me?”

He sighed deeply.

“I cannot be. Not when I know the odds I would have done the same in your place.”

It was her turn to sigh. “I love you.”

“And I you, my brave and unfailingly stubborn hero,” she smiled weakly into his shirt at the nearly comedic seriousness of his tone. 

“No more hiding,” she vowed with a yawn, “If I get sick again I promise to wake you up.”

Aymeric laughed, and Alyx didn’t have the strength to protest when he insisted on carrying her back to bed.

-

whoa hey remember that thing about holding onto old prompts? I’m tellin ya it works! thank you for the ask!

[eremiss]

16. Jitter

8/10/20 -- I’m no longer satisfied with this piece, or how I wrote it. Gwen and Thancred do have an argument, but I’m not happy with how it all played out here. I plan to rewrite it at some point. I’ll post a link to it whenever that happens.   

Tl;Dr - Gwen and Thancred have an argument about his behavior and emotional distance towards Mini-Filia, and his refusal to reassure her, as well as how he’s being so closed to Gwen and keeping her at arm’s-length too. Once they’ve calmed down she tries to reassure him that she just wants to help and be there for both him and Mini-filia, he half-heartedly says he’ll keep that in mind and work on it, and the whole thing ends with a tentative, awkward truce.

CW: contains an intense argument (arguing/yelling/small outburst) that could possibly be triggering. Sorry I didn’t mark it before!

Gwen paced her room a few times, intermittently scribbling in her journal and haphazardly stuffing things in her pack while she tried to think. The sandwiches from the Exarch were half-eaten and the conversation she had with Ardbert was already half-forgotten, the spirit (wisely) choosing to give her space and privacy to sort herself out.

A letter from Cerigg, now pinned under one side of her journal, calling her back to Mord Souq ‘by fourth bell, if possible’ was what had spurred her into sudden action. 

She needed to talk to Thancred. Specifically, she needed to talk about Minfilia.

Gwen had known that since she first heard the way he scolded little Minfilia when they entered Il Mheg, and the notion had been reaffirmed after what she witnessed in his Echo.

They needed to talk, and the sooner the better. A time of relative calm and lifted spirits while they were all still bolstered by the success of returning night to Il Mheg was probably the ideal situation she could hope for. No one could be sure how long they’d have to rest while they figured out where to go next, though the Exarch would no doubt have a suggestion, and her idle time had already been cut short.

Despite her conviction, Gwen couldn’t help becoming a little bit jittery every time she thought about it. Knowing him, or what she knew of him five years ago --that stung and she almost winced-- the conversation was almost guaranteed to wind up...passionate.

Gwen had meant to speak with Thancred after they’d successfully retrieved the crown from Dohn Mheg, when they’d taken the night to recover at Uriangier’s and the two of them finally had the chance for a bit of privacy. But when she’d gone to his room she’d been distracted by a dozen different things, one of them being his genuine relief that she was alive and well, which he’d mostly kept to himself until that point, and another being… well, him. 

Up until that point she’d thought herself recovered from those long moons of worry and loneliness, as seeing those she’d so dearly missed and the man she loved alive and well and running around on inane errands for pixies did wonders to ease the ache and fill in the void that had been hanging in her chest. 

But then they’d had their first moment alone together since he’d fallen unconscious in Ala Mhigo, and the point of her visit had started to fall apart. Thancred’s firm embrace and relieved little mumble had completely derailed her train of thought, completely at odds with the gruffness and scowls he’d been wearing all day. The soft, longing press of his mouth and grasp of his hands had made sure she never got it back again. 

She hadn’t forgotten, no, but a burst of selfishness and yearning of her own had pushed it all aside for a night. The thought still made her stomach twinge with guilt.

But then Gwen and Minfilia had gone out together on an errand for the Nu Mou and gotten their own chance to speak in private…

Well, after that unfortunate bit of insight, it was probably good Gwen hadn’t already talked with him. This wasn’t going to be the sort of conversation Thancred would want to have at all, let alone twice.

It wasn't a conversation she was eager to have either -heavy and delicate and prickly as it was like to be- but she was generally better about that kind of thing. Being pushed and pulled into one task or another was part of being the Warrior of Light (and Darkness now, too, though she thought that title was a mouthful) and she’d learned to endure and move forward despite a few misgivings or a bit of irritation.

And, in a way, wasn’t the fact that neither of them wanted to have the conversation almost a sign that it needed to happen? 

Her pen, almost on its own, scribbled out the idea to perhaps talk with the twins or Uriangier, to ask about how Thancred and Minfilia had been before her arrival, or learn if they’d already attempted to broach the awkward subject and how far they’d gotten with it.

Gwen crossed it out. A bit of insight could be helpful, but it could also serve to cloud her head and make everything more tangled and thorny than it already was. No need to add ‘I’ve been talking to the others about you’ on top of everything.

Bells later, and nearing the time Cerigg had requested she meet him and the boy-- Taynor, the letter said, in Mord Souq, Gwen had only managed to pick out the finer points of what she wanted to say to Thancred, though the exact phrasing was still eluding her. She hadn’t eaten another bite, she’d packed and unpacked her bag twice, and she’d nearly trod a ring into the floor. Her journal still lay open on her desk, packed twice and wrestled free both times so she could keep scribbling in it. She hadn’t seen Ardbert again, and she was both grateful to be able to think in peace and a little disappointed. Perhaps she could have talked it over with him first.

A knock at the door stopped her from mulling it all over any further, and she frowned at it for the interruption. She tipped her journal shut before answering the summons.

Thancred waited on the other side, leaning against the doorjamb. He looked tired in a way that wasn’t entirely related to travel on the road, and his expression lifted when he saw her.

Her heart’s instinctive happy skip was cut short by an anxious twist, the resulting spasm uncomfortable and almost painful. 

Well, so much for preparing any more.

She could put it off again. Just a little longer, just until she got back, and maybe she would have her thoughts more in order then…

Gwen thought about Thancred’s harsh tone at the border of Lydha Lran and the look of sad resignation that had accompanied Minfilia’s aching words when looked out at Lyhe Ghiah.

She pushed that jittery little thought away. No waiting.

Whatever expression Gwen was wearing, probably a mix of the myriad things buzzing around in her head, made one of Thancred’s brows lift and his smile dim slightly. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Gwen moved aside and waved him in, “not really.”

“Which is it?” he teased dryly, stepping inside.

Gwen took a slow breath as she pushed the door shut, “Not really, then,” willing her heart to slow and her thoughts to steady and straighten out.

“You’re leaving already?” She looked back to see Thancred regarding her bag with an incredulous stare. 

“I got a letter from a bounty hunter I met a few weeks ago,” Gwen explained. “He’s hunting a powerful sin eater and wants my help.”

“Right now?” He asked, a tinge of something disappointed in both his frown and his tone.

“As soon as possible, so before I go running off after another Lightwarden,” Gwen said apologetically, letting her shoulders slump with the confirmation. She wasn’t terribly eager to run off and leave him and the others behind, either. “Which means now.” She put on a rueful smile, “Busy as always, even here where no one knows me.” 

Thancred made a sound under his breath that might’ve been a sardonic chuckle, understanding but not pleased about it. He looked over her face, his own starting to grow pensive, “I take it that’s not all that’s on your mind.”

Gwen sighed, burying her fingers in her scarf to give them something to do. “No.”

She hesitated to speak again, not entirely sure where to start or how to phrase it. Her thoughts were puzzle pieces scattered all around, and she still hadn’t found the best way to put them all together.

As the silence stretched Thancred’s mouth turned down at one corner and his brows knit together, expression shifting to one that toed the line of suspicion. A look that came with wariness and walls.

Gwen’s mouth pulled slightly to one side and she fixed her weight on her feet.

Thancred’s expression shifted again, this time to something firmer and more stubborn that said he had a pretty good idea that she meant to scold or lecture him, and he was in no mood for either.

As if that was anything new.

Gwen took another slow breath, trying to push away that annoyed little snap and the other unpleasant things prickling around in her head. Wait. You should wait. You’re already getting annoyed, rolled around her thoughts, in and out of focus. She replied to his hardened expression with a patient tone, “I haven’t even said anything and you’re already scowling at me.”

A few moments passed and his expression softened somewhat, as who he was speaking to finally starting to weigh in on his instinctive defensiveness. He huffed and folded his arms, giving off a definite air of resignation despite his eased expression, “Fine. Go on, then.”

Gwen couldn’t help frowning. It had been a while since she was last confronted with his walls, at least so directly. This isn’t the right time. Shouldn’t do this now. I’m about to leave, I’m already all worked up and he’s already putting up walls--

“You know what I saw in the Echo,” she said anyway, only slightly carefully

Thancred shifted on his feet and set his shoulders, as though physically enduring the words. “I’ve got a good idea, based on the look you were wearing when you came out of it.”

Gwen twisted her scarf. “So you know I felt what you felt then, in that moment.”

Thancred’s mouth bent, “Don’t presume to know what I--”

“I’m not,” Gwen cut him off firmly. It stung for him to jump straight to that kind of assumption after how much they’d talked about what she’d experienced in past Echoes, including all the things it allowed --or forced, rather-- her to feel. “The only thing I’m presuming is that I’ve seen something you haven’t shared with anyone else. At least, not entirely.”

He shifted his jaw and glanced elsewhere, “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She reminded him. 

Thancred’s frown deepened, a hard edge creeping into his expression.

He would have explained that Minfilia had chosen not to come back, though Gwen wasn’t sure if he would have shared her reasoning. Only the bare minimum, if he was really pressed. And he definitely wouldn’t have admitted to his words, or his desperation, either.

“What about my wishes?!” Rang like a cracked bell and her heart twisted, both with the reverberation of his heartache and her own.

Gwen knew him well enough to know there was no point telling him she, at least partially, understood what he was feeling. Thancred didn’t want sympathy, especially when it was part of such an unruly tangle of emotions and questions as the one she’d been grappling with for days now.

She missed Minfilia, too. Everyone did. She’d thought herself at peace with the whole thing after all this time, for her own sake. But then, in the void between worlds, Gwen had seen her for just a moment, heard her voice, and that peace and acceptance had cracked like glass. And then she’d seen Thancred’s Echo…

It was all such a twelve-damned mess.

But for how twisted and knotted her head and heart might have been, Gwen had heard Minfilia’s decision that day in Nabaath Areng.

Much as it made old wounds ache, she agreed...mostly. At the very least, she understood. Understood that their Minfilia, of the Source, couldn’t bear to steal a life, especially a child’s, for her own sake.

The First’s Minfilia, the little girl who’d been born in the antecedent’s radiant shadow, deserved her own life. She deserved a chance. 

“And I know that day in Nabaath Areng, and everything after it, have been eating at you for years,” Gwen said heavily, voice calm even though her head was a knot of a million different thoughts and her heart was starting to skitter. 

Her chest ached, and she blamed the Echo.

“I’m fine.” Thancred’s voice was blunt and flat.

“I just want to talk,” Gwen insisted, doing her best to keep her tone even and calm despite the frustration creeping through her. He was never particularly open when it came to his emotions, beyond fondness, anyway, and he’d always been in the habit of literally and physically dodging topics he didn’t care to try and address, but he usually had a bit more patience, a bit more understanding, when she was the one to bring them up. He would always hear her out, at least, and not immediately shut her down. “To actually have a conversation, not stand here and talk at you while you scowl at me. Is that so much to ask?”

Thancred turned sharply, moving with heavy steps towards her desk as though he could just walk away from the conversation. She wondered if he would have gone for the door were she not standing in front of it. “My business is no concern of yours.” 

Gwen bristled, her patience and level-headedness both proving thinner and more feeble than she’d realized. His business? So Thancred can drag her into conversations, can discuss her flaws and take apart her issues even if she doesn’t want to, he can steal her journal and pry all he wants, but the moment she tries to do the same thing he gets surly and shuts down? He doesn’t have to talk when he doesn’t want to?

She tensed further, irritation hot and prickling in her head and on her skin. She blamed the Echo again, the emotions it pushed onto her always coming through far sharper and brighter than her own. She knew how to handle her own emotions well enough, but not someone else’s. It was so hard to keep a steady head when her own sadness or anger was suddenly amplified, doubled, reshaped with someone else's almost as if it were her own. She hadn’t thought to try and ready herself to deal with the Echo and his heartache she’d experienced on top of everything else.

She threw away more than a bell of fretting, of thoughts and consideration of careful phrasing, her voice sharp and plain as irritation started to strain in her throat, “You’re hiding your feelings and tearing yourself apart, and Minfilia thinks she’s no better than a spare weapon.”

Thancred clenched his teeth and his hands curled into fists. He sent a hard look over his shoulder, something brittle and angry washing across his eyes. “Stay out of it, Gwen. You don’t know anything about what’s going on--”

“I know what she told me, and I know what I saw.” Gwen’s voice wavered slightly under the sharp look before a surge of hot, staticy anger steadied it and sharpened each syllable, “She said you only kept her close as a contingency because you can’t stand to be around her.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Thancred grated out, struggling to keep his voice from rising. Normally he was the one to keep the calmer tone whenever they had a little spat, but not this time. “I don’t need--”

Gwen pointed vaguely behind her, in the direction of Thancred’s room. “She isn’t her.”

His glare was sharp and cold like a chip of ice, face dark like a thunderstorm.

She shifted her feet, set her weight and held her ground. She’d faced down Primals and worse, she would not be cowed by Thancred’s glare, even though, at that moment it was far more intimidating than any eikon had been.

“She’s her own person,” Gwen told him, words short and clipped. 

“Guinevere.” Her name was a growl, a warning.

She’d struck a chord. “She’s not some sort of--”

“Stop.” 

“--second chance!”

“I know that!” Thancred nearly yelled, whatever scraps of patience he’d been clinging to apparently spent. The sudden timbre of his voice nearly drove her back a step. 

The loss of his temper fueled roiling frustration in her chest, dredging up months of anguish from the Source --unrelated but potent and still haunting her even now-- to fan the flames. The words that landed on her tongue far too agitated to keep behind her teeth and too sharp to swallow,  “Knowing isn’t good enough!” Gwen snapped back, just short of shouting. “Act like it! Act like you give a damn about her and not just--”

“Of course I give a damn!” Thancred snarled. “Everything I’ve done on this damned world I’ve done for her! I taught her everything! She barely knew how to take care of herself when I saved her from that godsdamned cage!”

“For her sake, or yours?!” Gwen shouted at him, belatedly wondering if the people all the way down in the lobby could hear them.

That apparently hit a sore spot because Thancred stiffened like he’d been struck. A split second later he stood straighter, shoulders back and set, his arms tensing, looking every bit as though he wanted to scream or hit something or both. He was seething, lip curled and eyes dark with something glacial and jagged that looked a lot like fury.

 Gwen wasn’t sure when she squared her shoulders or clenched her fists, but she had. She knew it wouldn’t come to blows, it was Thancred, they wouldn’t actually fight. Yet the conviction behind those thoughts was weaker than she cared to admit. She’d just wanted to talk, for Twelve’s sake, how in the hell did they get here.

She managed not to shout, but just barely, “I’m not going to stand here and watch someone I care about suffer! I can’t just sit and watch you tear yourself apart and let a child go on thinking--!”

“Don’t you dare,” Thancred snapped, voice dangerous and low like thunder, something his expression cracking. “You finally deign to show up after all these years and you think you can waltz in here and--”

“Help!” Gwen yelled exasperatedly. She took a step forward, her posture making it a challenge, “I’m trying to help!”

“I don’t want your help!” Thancred roared, “I don’t need--!” He slammed his fist down onto her desk, the impact echoing around her room. The wood groaned and shuddered, dust falling free and the lamp and her journal trembling.

Gwen’s breath caught and she twitched with a barely suppressed reaction to jerk back.

The reverberating ‘thud’ dwindled to nothing and vanished, and the silence it left was behind utterly stifling.

Thancred was frozen, chest heaving. Something like shock pulled at his expression as he stared at her face, eyes wide while he processed the sudden quiet.

Gwen wasn’t sure what sort of expression she was making beyond the fact her eyes were wide and her whole body was tense, stopped just short of recoiling. Adrenaline surged through her veins and her heart was hammering against her ribs, skin and muscles prickling with nervous energy and desperation to move or fidget. 

It was a massive effort, but she kept still.

She’d expected him to get angry, though, admittedly, not so angry, especially not so quickly. It was a wound he’d been nursing since before he even came to the First, of course he’d get snappy when she poked it. She’d known that any attempt at discussing something so tender and guarded ran the risk of turning into an argument, but she hadn’t expected… 

Thancred shifted his gaze to his hand, studying the rigidity of his arm and the place where his knuckles were still pressed to the table.

His expression sobered in an instant.

Thancred’s arm relaxed and his fingers unclenched slowly, almost dazedly, as though he was struggling to believe he’d lost control of himself. He kept his eyes glued to the desk as he eased back a step, furtive and stiff like he was standing on ice that had just cracked under his feet. 

He hadn’t moved away from the desk, hand unfolding slowly as it dragged across the wood. He’d moved away --even further away, there was more than two yalms between them-- from her.

It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, the world falling still and silent again.

Thancred almost looked up, hesitant, nervous, but stopped. Instead he turned his back to her, almost seeming to shrink as he leaned against the desk and pulled his injured hand out of sight. He muttered something she didn’t catch despite the near-unnerving silence.

Probably broke his knuckles… The thought nudged the back of Gwen’s mind, and a little thread of sympathy pierced through the jittery, thorny haze of their argument.

Guilt crept up her throat. All of it needed to be said, she knew that, but not so harshly, and not thrown around like stones, either. They could have talked not shouted. Half of her anger had come from something older, lonelier, biggerness that had welled up and been pushed down while he and the others had slept and she’d been left alone. She didn’t even realize it still haunted her so strongly.

Gwen grappled with her thoughts, stifling nervous buzzing and knotting up frayed ends until her head had cleared a little. She lifted her hands to clutch at her scarf, a tinge of relief sliding down her arms and across her shoulders and easing the ramrod-straight set of her back. 

It was so quiet. Had it been this quiet before they’d started shouting at one another? Or was the outside world waiting with bated breath, unsure what to make of the sudden absence of raised voices?

Gwen looked at Thancred, trying not to let earlier sharp words and cold glares get in the way. There wasn’t any fight left in him, every last spark crushed under the weight of his outburst. Shame hung heavy on his bowed head and slumped shoulders, regret and weariness creeping along the slouch of his back.

He looked...defeated. 

Gwen approached carefully, almost like she was approaching a skittish animal. She wanted to think that sort of nervous caution was ridiculous, but the tension that filled every ilm of the room was thick as water, pushing back against her as she moved, so brittle that being too quick would cause something --she wasn’t sure what-- to break.

She was sure he heard her, her steps light but quite audible, but he didn’t react to them. She chose to take that as a good sign. 

Thancred held his injured hand carefully and stared solemnly down at it, damaged fingers trembling faintly against his cradling palm in small, painful spasms. He shied away from her as she drew closer, though the desk stopped him from getting far. He tilted his head away to avoid her gaze, a fall of pale hair shielding his eyes and hiding his face, though in doing so missed her hands reaching for him.

She delicately rested her hands around his, feeling him tense and twitch at the touch. His gloves obscured most of his hands, but she could see his knuckles were slightly misshapen and his third finger was trembling. That was enough to confirm her suspicions, a slight wince tightening her features,

Gwen whispered an incantation and drew on the air around them, readying to mend the damage the table had (rightly) inflicted.

She took a slow breath, addressing his hands when she murmured, “All that is to say.”

Thancred’s breath hitched, hands tensing beneath hers.

“That I’m... worried about you,” the magic started to take effect and his fingers stopped trembling, “and the toll this is taking. On both of you. You’re both hurting, that’s plain enough, and… I admit I hardly know Minfilia, but even so she’s still willing to be open with me.”

Fabric rustled, giving away when Thancred shifted his weight. Whether he’d done it out of nervousness, discomfort or something else, she wasn’t sure.

“But I do know you. And I know you’re struggling to deal with,” she lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, “a lot, and I think you’re not handling it very well. You don’t know what the future holds, no one does, so you don’t know if you’re prepared for whatever could happen. I think you’re trying to prepare for the worst, like always, even though it means...walls. I can’t say I blame you, but I don’t think that’s the right way to go about it, either.” Gwen paused, re-gathering her focus when it started to fade, “But you already know that.”

Thancred made a quiet sound that wasn’t disagreement.

“I know it’s been a while, but,” she sagged a little, the gulf five years between them and a few certain comments still stinging, “just know that I’m here. For everyone, and for Minfilia, but for you, too. Always. Time and harsh words doesn’t change that. Never has, never will.” The light winked out, cracked bones and abrasions mended and bruised muscles soothed. She leaned against him so lightly her side barely pressed to his, her voice gentle and thick with emotion, “I’m not saying you have to tell me everything, neither of us were ever completely transparent, I’m just asking you to... Let me help. When I can.”

Gwen lifted her hands off of his but didn’t pull them away entirely, not wanting to withdraw, to retreat, while they were still in such a precarious place. 

She felt tired suddenly, like a cup that had been poured out. Getting angry, especially yelling, always drained her, proving almost more exhausting than all the fighting she has to do day in and day out. There, in that moment, it left her extremely sapped and tired. She very nearly wanted to nap.

She didn’t feel better by any means, in fact she almost felt worse. She felt spent, and a bit hollow besides. She felt like a cup that had been dumped out.

Thancred’s mended fingers twitched, purposefully this time, and slowly flexed. He turned his hand to loosely, almost tentatively, curl his fingers around hers. Weight settled lightly on her head, his side pressing back against hers.

His whole demeanor was quiet now, withdrawn and subdued as though he both mistrusted himself and his emotions and was nervous about moving or being more vocal lest he lose control again, even briefly. He seemed like he was waiting for some sort of repercussion for lashing out like he had.

“...I’ll consider it,” he mumbled against her hair, quiet and withdrawn like a secret, “and everything you’ve said.” 

Of course he didn’t agree, or give even a mildly-definite answer. It was so unsurprising, so perfectly like him, that it almost made her feel better.

A bell chimed somewhere outside. Responsibility and duty cracked through her thoughts like the blare of an alarm tore through a dream.

Gwen sighed.

Thancred translated dully, “You have to go.”

“Yes,” she muttered, making no attempt to move away.

“...Do you have to?” he asked quietly, with a tone that said he already knew the answer but hoped he was wrong. 

Gwen hesitated, trying to gauge the tone of his voice. “I…” She considered, debated, and sighed again. They needed time, anyway. “Yes.”

He deflated slightly, humming a sound of understanding under his breath. He gently squeezed her hand and shifted his weight, pulling his hands away without further protest.

Gwen leaned into him for another long moment, counting seconds, and then pulled away and trudged over to her bag. She hefted it, fiddling with the closures and absently wondering if she had everything.

Thancred moved away from her desk, considering the door with a certain amount of disfavor. “When will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure.” The attempt at regular conversation didn’t quite feel awkward. “I shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”

He hummed vaguely as she pulled the straps over her shoulders and settled the weight on her back. 

Oh, she still needed--

Gwen looked back at her desk. She saw only her lamp and a few books she’d borrowed from the Cabinet of Curiosity about Norvandt’s plants.

Oh, she’d already packed her journal. She wasn’t surprised it had slipped her notice, given how frazzled and anxious she’d been and how many times she’d repacked her bag.

Gwen turned for the door and glanced at Thancred, who was standing quietly by them like he was waiting.

She moved over to him, still more carefully than strictly necessary. He stood a little straighter, waiting until she was well within arm’s reach before letting his arms drop to his sides. 

Gwen reached up, brushing the backs of his fingers against his cheek. “You’ll still be here?”

Thancred turned his head slightly, grazing his lips against one finger, “I will.”

The sweet little gesture didn’t inspire the happy, light feeling she’d hoped for, but it did lift her spirit a little. That was something, at least.

They stepped out together, Thancred ducking his chin and bidding, “Be safe, dove,” before turning for his room.

Gwen sighed, combing her fingers through her bangs.

Well, hopefully it would all be settled, and maybe a little better, in a few days. Time and space would give them room to think. And clearly they both needed it. She started towards the stairs, ready to dodge any glances sent her way.

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

Thanks @rhymingteelookatme for the suggestions and reading it over for me :D :D :D I DON’T LIKE WRITING FIGHTS. IT’S HARD. UGH

Oh hey where’d her journal go I wonder if someone fucking pocketed it REALLY DUDE?

SUBMITTING AT THE LAST MOMENT FUUUUUUU----

[of-the-silver-lining]

Prompt #5: Vault

(WOW I cannot believe I wrote this in 3 days. This turned into a monster, and because of that I won’t be able to do First Steps, but that’s all right, I’ll do it later anyway. I have a really good idea for that one that needs time and dedication of its own. 

There is only One Thing I can write about with a prompt like this, but honestly this was really hard to think up because I’ve already written everything about Iris during that time. So I had to do something new.)

(Under cut for being long, spoilers, etc)

(Warnings: some blood, gore, general nightmarish disturbingness early on)

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Iris ran through the halls of the Vault, her bow bouncing on her back, toward an opening, where she could see the fading red daylight outside.

I must make it, this time, she thought, though for what purpose she didn’t know.

She ran through the threshold and slowed to a stop. She was on the airship landing, high above the city, and also, above the clouds. A cloud ocean surrounded her, as if she could step off the sides of this island and drown in it. The sun was setting, a red disk plunging into it, and the light of the evening reflected in gold on the silver clouds.

Before her in the distance Haurchefant was standing with his back to her, dressed in his chainmail, his sword at his side, the red unicorn sigil bright on the shield at his back.

She tried to call out to him, but her voice stuck in her throat. She stepped closer instead, and that was when she saw the jagged hole just under the sigil in his shield.

“Haurchefant.” She forced herself to speak even though it almost hurt, but it only came out as a whisper.

“My friend...” he said, tilting his head toward the sky. Her heart leapt at hearing his voice. She wanted to sob with relief, thinking perhaps it wasn’t too late.

One foot at a time, she stepped closer, reaching out to him, though it was becoming difficult to move. But before she could close the distance, he turned around slowly.

The hole was not only through his shield, but his armor and his body as well, dark, jagged, stained. As she stared, blood began pouring out of it, running down the links of his chainmail. She tried to cry out and reach for him, but she was frozen. His face was his own, unmistakeably recognizable, staring at her calmly, but it was changing, his cheeks sinking, his skin tearing and graying before her eyes. Under the silver locks of his hair, his blue eyes burned into her, before they too began to rot away, leaving dark and soulless holes. The hole in his chest widened, and entrails began to spill out with the blood, as if his body was starting to turn itself inside out.

“Do not look at me so...” he said. It was almost a whisper, but she heard it echoing like thunder from all around her. She wanted to turn away and run but she couldn’t move.

“A smile better suits a hero...”

Hero.

Hero.

Iris opened her eyes to darkness. She blinked numbly once, twice, and then the dread and fear and horror descended on her. She felt it hit her like a wave and course through her body. She gasped as if she couldn’t breathe, and she felt for a moment that she would be sick. She pulled her covers up to her chin and lay there in a ball, panting, looking back and forth across the room to see what little she could. She was so tired, and it was hard to keep her eyes open, but each time she closed them, she saw his face, warped and terrible. 

After some minutes, she stood up from her bed and threw open the window of her room in the Pendants. The sudden night air raised goosebumps on her skin.  The stars were shining peacefully like tiny crystals over Lakeland.

“Ardbert,” she said softly, her voice shaking, but she knew he would no longer answer. Whether he was still with her or gone to join that eternal river of souls through time and space, she wasn’t sure. She wanted to believe she felt his presence, but even if she did, he was a part of her now, she had overtaken him, and because of that he could never comfort her as a friend again. Her eyes dampened and she swallowed heavily.

Ryne and Thancred were staying here tonight as well, in their own rooms, taking a rest from their journeys into the Empty, but she would not wake them just because of a nightmare.

She wished she could try to sleep again, but she knew it wasn’t possible. She looked out the window again at the glow of the stars. There was still one friend who was likely to be awake at this hour.

She dressed quickly in some casual clothes, picked up her bow, and hurried out of the room.

The Crystarium was still bustling even at this late hour. People were not yet used to having they cycle of night and day to tell them when to work and when to sleep, and many people, still in awe of the night sky, chose to be out under the stars. Seeing the people of the city, out and about in their daily lives, made Iris feel much less lonely and frightened, and she began to think herself foolish for coming this far. Still, she would feel better with someone to talk to, so made her way through the city toward the bright, glistening tower. The guard posted outside nodded amicably as he let her pass.

She had to wander around the tower for a while before she found G’raha Tia. The place was entirely too massive. She was exploring the mostly abandoned lower reaches, and just beginning to wonder if she could get his attention somehow from the portal in the Ocular when she and found him in a huge room with a strange yellow glow that reminded her somewhat of the aetherochemical research facility in Azys Lla. G’raha was kneeling near some kind of machine the size of a large table, He had several tools and other machines and differently colored crystals near him. His hood was back, and he was wearing thick gloves that went up to his elbows.

He heard her approach, and by reflex or old habit, he had quickly pulled his hood up over his ears before he even turned toward her. Iris smiled to herself in amusement.

“Oh, Iris.” He sounded surprised when he saw her. “I was certain you would be sleeping at this hour. Is aught amiss?”

Iris shook her head. “No,” she said, deciding not to tell him about the dream. “I couldn’t sleep.” She brushed the machine he was working on with her fingertips. “What is this?”

“Well... It’s a bit much to explain, but in short it’s a type of aetherochemical energy converter, part of a much larger machine that... may be able to assist me in sending the Scions home.” He pulled off his gloves, and put his crystal hand to his hip. “But, without the help of the Ironworks, repairing it has been a... learning experience.”

She peered at the machine, trying to tell if she recognized it from her other escapades in the lower reaches of the tower. “Did I break it?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No, no, it has been in disrepair for decades.”

“May I stay... G’raha?” she asked

At the sound of his name he stiffened, ever so slightly. She would not have even noticed had she not been looking for it.

“Certainly,” he said with a smile, and she was glad, “I would like a rest.” She sat down on the metal floor next to him, leaning up against the side of the machine.

“Does it... bother you when I call you that?” she asked, turning her gaze away. “No one else does.”

“No!” he said earnestly, “Of course not. I am simply unaccustomed to it. And, to be honest, after so long, it gives me a moment of panic that the plan has gone awry.” He smiled sheepishly. “As for the others... my Crystarium friends and even the Scions... I am the Crystal Exarch to them, and I would rather they continue to call me as such. I would not have them call me by the name of that young man they never knew. But you...” He shot a quick glance up at her from under the dark of his hood. “Truthfully it leaves me feeling... frighteningly vulnerable, but also...”

He paused for a moment, looking down, and he spoke softly. “To have someone who calls to me as everything I am and have been, even after all this time... and to have that person be you... is a precious gift. So, I would save my true name for you, and only you, for now. You, who knew me from before. You... who has been the guiding star of my life’s journey.”

She touched the edge of his hood and pushed it back, and it fell to his shoulders, exposing his face and his red hair and ears. He looked up at her with his wide Allagan eyes. She meant to pull back, but her hand lingered by his cheek in locks of his hair. She moved closer to him and cradled his cheek in her hand. His lips parted, his eyes searched her face, questioningly. She knew not what emotions were showing there, only that her heart was filled to bursting with love for him.

“G’raha,” she whispered, and he froze. Her heart was pounding. What was she doing? she thought in sudden panic, before her eyes fluttered closed and her lips met his.

He melted beneath her kiss, and then she felt his soft lips press back, ever so gently. His hands reached out and clutched her shoulders. His acceptance set her aflame. She pressed her other hand to his cheek and felt a warm tear on his crystal skin. He pulled back from her lips a little with a sharp intake of breath, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, “I never thought I would live to see the day I could reach out and touch the star I’ve followed for so long. How many years... how many impossibilities came true, for us to meet this way?”

She felt her own eyes filling with tears.

“I love you,” he said, and between his words he kissed her softly again and again. “My Warrior of Darkness. My inspiration. My hero.”

“Hero.”

Haurchefant’s voice and Haurchefant’s face, the sunset shining gold on his silver hair and blood dripping crimson from his lips, flashed in her mind, and she recoiled as if the word had bitten her, breaking away from G’raha with a gasp.

She stared in horror. All she could see was Haurchefant, all at once with the light of life in his smile and his blue eyes, and the sunken, torn, eyeless demon from her dream, features claimed by death’s grasp.

There was a short time she could not bear to be called hero, for it only reminded her how dreadfully she had failed, but she had thought that time was long past--gone with Estinien’s rescue, gone with finding peace and finding her place again. And it was never like this. This was a nightmare come into her waking world, and she found she was trembling and couldn’t stop.

“Have I... said too much?” 

She blinked when she heard G’raha’s voice, and her heart twisted in pain when she saw the confusion and hurt on his face. Part of her longed to wrap her arms around him and tell him she loved him and banish that fearful expression from his face forever. But unbidden, her eyes were filled with tears and she desperately tried to stop them from falling. Another part of her felt the urge to just turn and run, out of the tower, out of the city, away from G’raha, and her friends, and Haurchefant, and if she ran fast and far enough maybe her memories could not catch up with her. Just like when she fled the Fortemps manor after his funeral--to find a place to forget, or at least where no one would see her cry. But where else could she go? There was no place that her nightmares wouldn’t follow. This was where she had come, because she didn’t want to be alone with them.

After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to shake her head. “A nightmare,” she choked, and the tears she was holding back came spilling over.

Tentatively and gently he pulled her close. “You’re not alone,” he said.