Did I accidently write more than just a few lines of dialogue for this scene?... *shyly fumbling with fingers* 🥹👉👈 maybe...
Sorry, I suck at words and this isn't betaread nor properly proofread and I am not native english, I'm very sorry in advance...
full story down below
(Chappel Roan - Love me Anyway)
(Benson Boone - Slow it Down)
"VICE-CAPTAIN!!!!"
The tiny moving plush-like thing in his hand apparently started screaming as well now.
"WHY ALWAYS MEEE!?!?"
What looked like the chibi mini-version of the Defence Force's biggest trump card, struggled to hold on his thumb, kicking around those little feet of his.
"Well, now I'm quite curious abut THAT story..."
"I CAN'T TURN BACK AND I AM T I N Y !!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )"
"I see that... How'd you even get in here?"
Tiny #8 stopped fidgeting a bit. Instead two unproportionally big round dark eyes goggled at him. It was undeniably adorable to look at. "Well after THIS happened, I couldn't grab my phone on the table anymore, so I ran around to find someone, but I figured Narumi and Kikoru would very likely take advantage of my situation and do something stupid with me."
"Oh yeah, they definitely would and I get why, honestly."
"So I ran around to find you, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BIG THE 1st DIVISION IS, WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS, OK?! And then I saw the slightly opened window and just crawled in... ༼☯﹏☯༽"
"Wait... you know where my temporary place in the 1st Division is located? Why?"
"....Coincidence? (*゚ー゚) "
He sighed. "Well just when you think you saw everything...Kafka Hibino enters the stage..."
"SIR, WHAT SHOULD I DO?? WHY ARE THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME??"
"you really want me to answer that, bud?", he barely tried to hide the undertone of his voice, which left the small creature on the palm of his hand baffled for a second.
"Wha-? HEY, MEAN!! What are you on about!?"(>д<)
"Yeah, maybe, I don't know STOP CHANGING in general, like I told you f.ex.. or maybe stick to your training routine without going OVERBOARD on a regular basis? How 'bout that?"
The big dark round eyes got even bigger with every word spoken.
"Yeah, don't look at me like that, I might coincidently got wind of stuff, you know?"
His unexpectedly open and emotional response threw Kafka off. For a second he forgot about his *tiny* main problem, his mind jumped between confused and worried and he couldn't comprehend with his reaction for now. After some awkward seconds in silence, Hoshina's tone grew significantly calmer, but still sort of off to his usual self-assured expression. "Well at least this time you're actually telling me about stuff that bothers you, huh?"
Silence again. While hanging from the palm of his Vice-Captain's hand Kafka realized something (besides his size) was different. His senses grew more aware of his surroundings to find answers.
"Are... are you drunk, sir?"
Besides the slight scent of alcohol in the air, and the - well quite obvious - bottle of sake on the table, the startled twitch on his face confirmed Kafka's guess was right. Other than the sake the only other thing on the table were some snacks. Another odd thing to Kafka, who was used to see Hoshina's surroundings stuffed with documents, loose papers, books and other work related things.
The silence lingered around them uncomfortably. To Kafka's suprise Hoshina was seemingly struggling with words. A look on his face Kafka couldn't remember seeing before. Now his mind definitely jumped to 'worried'.
Hoshina tried to mimic an insulted face and looked away. "A little tippsy at most... I'm off-duty for tonight.." Besides the slightly blushed nose and cheeks, Kafka now noticed some dark circles under red eyes. "..and despite my gut telling me better, I assumed I probably won't be needed anymore today, and that I could hang loose a little. It's not my Division after all, there's another Captain and Vice-Captain in charge here. So I might as well make use of that chance... Should have known, it would end up that way or another.. " He smiled a bit and Kafkas felt like his heart clenching from the sight. "Although I definitely should have placed my bet on YOU to be the reason for that." He chuckled lightly, while his expressions grew somewhat softer.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"Nah, it's fine. As if I didn't get used to your-"
"I never put much thought to it, but ever since the Defence Force started preparing for the big counter attack on #9 your workload must've at least doubled in the 3rd and 1st Division.. and here I am still taking over the rest of your time as well..."
"Don't like where this is going, officer... You're not starting pitying me, are ya?"
"No I-...I just feel like.. I didn't realize, and there for not appreciated your work enough.." Silence. "And also.." The tiny kaiju had his look glued to the floor in front of him for a while now. "I know you told me to brush it off earlier but,... I truly regret ... not telling you about... #8 n'stuff.. I'm sorry... I'd change that if I could.."
A small plushy-sized Kaiju was gently put back on the ground again. Hoshina scratched his nose for a second, before bending far back to the other side of the room. He grabbed for his smartphone that was burried in piles of carelessly pushed aside documents.
"As I said. You're here now, aren't ya?" When he got his phone he chose to stay laid down on the floor and started typing something on the lightened screen.
A tiny transformed Kafka carefully made his way around and walked up on eye-level with Hoshina's face again. Once again overwhelmed by his current state of being, he let himself fall back on the floor and sat on the ground. "So... what should I do?"
"The first thing WE do is trying to make some calls. But since you seem to be in no life-threatening condition, we might have to wait 'till tomorrow for a first medical examination. If that's the case you'll stay, and I get you down to the lab first thing in the morning."
"Wait!" The tiny Kaiju made a suprisingly far jump right up to Hoshina's chest and pressed the (for him very big) red hang-up button on the screen with both paws. "You're right about that, I won't die this second from being tiny, so we might as well wait for tomorrow."
The questioning look on the opposite's face made a tiny Kafka look away and scratch his neck shyly. "Well, since you're ... I dunno,... I feel like, I can't have you be seen d-dru- .. like this by other officials of the 1st Division, b-because of me..."
A finger poked his forehead, which caused a tiny being like him to fall right back landing on warm soft fabric of Hoshina's shirt.
"Idiot. But you might be right about that."
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it's more the being unknown
~1.4k, Rated G, Galadriel/Sauron
Even at the end of the world, Frodo remains curious as to what drives Galadriel.
The hobbit, for all his long millenia of bravery and kindness, for all his suffering, looked terrified, and he knew it. An awful humiliation on this final day.
"Do not fear, young Frodo," Galadriel offered. "It will be painless. The One would not stand for anything else."
That morning, they had all seen Galadriel's uncle stalk proudly and with purpose out of the Halls of Mandos, preparing his chariot. All knew what that meant.
Frodo offered a weak smile to Galadriel.
"What will come after, my lady?" he whispered. He knew his duty. He wore armour, for the first time in the many Ages of his life. He would defend Middle Earth, and give thanks to Erú as the world broke apart. But that did not stop the fear.
Still, Galadriel smiled softly and sweetly -- a rare gift.
"I'm not sure, my friend," she said. "But it will be beautiful."
Frodo nodded, not much reassured. Galadriel checked over his armour, her own long-since fitted perfectly to her form.
"Will you stay with me?" he asked softly, somewhat ashamed of the quake in his voice. Galadriel looked down and away, and for a moment the hobbit thought she would not answer.
"Frodo, there is --" she looked at him, blue eyes shining. "It is the end of the world. And my part in this story is over."
A pause as she looked down again, at the shining, iridescent silver of her breastplate, the gold star gleaming like a fire in the centre.
"There will be no tomorrow, old friend. So there is only one way I wish to spend my last hours." her voice was a delicate whisper.
Ever since he arrived on the shores of Valinor, he had grown close to Galadriel. One of the few familiar faces in this strange land. The other elves stared at him, and found him to be a curious oddity. Only those who knew him from Middle Earth continued to treat him with respect and kindness, rather than as an amusing child who just learned to toddle. Even so, he could not miss the rumours that followed the once-Lady of Lothlórien. Most of them, he could dismiss out of hand. Even after all his long years, he remembered the Sackville-Bagginses well enough to recognise petty jealousies and family rivalries when he saw them.
But there were other rumours, ones that stuck in his craw. Ones that made his mind itch with the memory of Galadriel's woods, and the Ring, louder than it had ever been, whispering incessantly to him -- soclosesoclosesoclose -- praise Erú that Galadriel had the wisdom to reject it. But no, Frodo dismissed the thought, there was no way that, after everything, Galadriel would --
"Mithrandir will look after you and Bilbo," she said. "You will not be alone for even a moment."
Frodo did not reply. He just blinked slowly at the elf. He was not sure if she wanted his permission, or if she was telling him instead.
He put it out of his mind for hours, watching the events of that final eternal day unfold around him. Chaos and waiting. Waiting and chaos. These alternating moods threatened to undo him. He stood by Galadriel, Gandalf and Bilbo, the four of them stuck carefully together as it all unfolded, with the elf and wizard guiding the halflings across bloody battlefields, carefully keeping them away from the worst of the battles. Indeed, Frodo's own blade remained clean.
He supposed he should be pleased about that.
But that all changed once he saw It. That was the only thing that came to mind: It. The armour was unmistakable, and for the first time in countless years, Frodo's shoulder burned. An ancient wound awakened by its ultimate cause. It made a sick sort of sense that Sauron would piece himself together enough to witness his master's final attempt at dominance.
Gandalf's hand was on his shoulder, his voice comforting and low.
"He will not come near you, old friend," he murmured. Frodo sobbed, nodded, but could not help the way he curled into the wizard in fear.
"I don't --" his voice trembled. "I don't want to die like this."
Frodo was brave. His strength and kindness was famed across the world, far beyond Middle Earth. The gentle halfling who toppled a god without ever taking a life. But he felt as though tears and terror were all he had left.
"And you won't," This voice was soft as well, but with an almost incomprehensible depth of kindness and feeling to it. Galadriel's soft hair brushed his arm as she laid a kiss on his forehead. "He won't ever touch you, old friend."
With a squeeze of his hand and a meaningful look to Gandalf, she was gone.
"What is she doing?" Bilbo asked, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his nephew's shoulder. Gandalf didn't reply, but his sigh contained an age of sorrow.
She walked slowly, calmly towards the towering figure, discarding weapons as she went.
Her quiver.
Her bow and arrow.
Her sword.
And finally, a dagger.
Sauron, for his part, possessed a stillness that Frodo would never have guessed. Sword in one hand, mace in the other. He gave up neither weapon.
The hobbit's heart was in his mouth, certain that Galadriel had miscalculated, certain that at any moment, Sauron would swipe his mace at her, smashing her bones into pieces. But he did no such thing.
Instead, by some magic, Frodo heard every word, even at this distance.
"I always hated that armour," Galadriel said. The figure tilted its awful head at her.
"Too frightening?" His voice was muffled, but sounded little like the wraith that had haunted the hobbit's nightmares for millennia.
"Too much like a little boy's. Far too cumbersome, even for you," Galadriel replied. There was something in her voice that Frodo could not recognise. Still, the Dark Lord's next act threw any thought of Galadriel from his mind as his hands reached up, and unlatched his helmet.
It came to the ground with a loud clang.
Frodo couldn't breathe.
Sauron looked…disarmingly normal. He remembered Strider…Aragorn…whatever, and his ranger friends…Sauron would not look out of place among them. Scraggly haired and scruffy, and far from the beast he imagined lurked beneath the helm. And it is only then that he identifies the note beneath Galadriel's speech, even at this dire moment: amusement.
"Gandalf," Frodo whispered, almost against his will. "What is she doing?"
The wizard had not taken his eyes off the pair, a wariness to his gaze even now at the end of everything.
"Hmm?" he asked, as though he had not heard every word Frodo uttered.
"I don't think she's in much danger, my lad," said Bilbo, keen eyes alight with curiosity. Frodo shook his head.
"She needs --" he did not know how to finish the sentence, felt rooted to the spot, even as his breath caught when Sauron's mace crashed to the ground beside him.
"I believe the Lady will do quite fine without our aide, my boy," said Gandalf, still fixed on the pair.
Frodo strained to hear them now, no doubt a result of Galadriel's magic fading, or perhaps an alteration of the spell. The rumours burst into his mind again -- perhaps it was for privacy.
"Of course I did not visit --"
"Thousands of years in the dark, Galadriel --"
"And whose fault --"
Now he could believe them. Then, they stood in silence for a long moment, and when Galadriel spoke again, it was crystal clear to Frodo's ear, even as he could see his uncle surreptitiously straining forwards to hear as Gandalf kept a tight grip on the more troublesome halfling.
"If this is the end, do we really want to spend it on another battlefield?" Her voice was soft, and achingly sad.
"It would be fitting," Sauron replied, just as clearly to Frodo's ear. "But yes, I rather agree. This is not how we should spend the last of our time."
By the end of the statement, his voice was quiet and hoarse. Gandalf's eyes shut, and the wizard let out a sigh that contained centuries of tension.
Sauron's sword also fell to the ground as he stared at Galadriel, something impossible in his eyes that Frodo simply refused to name.
The last the hobbit saw of Galadriel was this: walking, off the last battlefield, in perfect step with the Dark Lord of Mordor, their weapons discarded.
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Scrimbly Jacqueline 13/52: In which Jacqueline impresses the Lady of the Lake and gives her Blacksmith Guardian a heart attack and a HALF.
COMPLETE with SILLY LITTLE DRABBLE BELOW THE CUT :O
Disclaimer: I know nothing about Arthurian Legends. HASHTAG WINGING IT!!!!
-
"What happened to the one in the anvil?!"
"Broke it fairly fast in a duel if you can believe it."
"He BROKE one of my SWORDS?!"
"He did stick it back in the anvil after drawing it out the first time."
"He did WHAT to my SWORD?"
"And then pulled it back out again. After multiple people took a go at it. Merlin was a bit late to the whole affair. Wizards, y'know. Terrible timing."
"In AND out of the anvil?! MULTIPLE TIMES?"
"Deep breaths, Bastion! Red's really not your colour."
The dwarf took a deep breath in; held it. Breathed out. The wind from his exhale ruffled his sooty beard. He frowned to himself; the lines in his forehead creased deeply as he tugged his beard in thought, the gaggle of young magibeans he had taken in running around the shop behind him. Sparks flew as the older ones worked to make various weapons; some worked on aesthetic details, piles of gems and precious stones gently strewn about the benches. Water hissed as weapons were cooled, clanking ringing out from the far recesses of the shop.
"Well Bastion? Up to snuff?"
"We'll get it done. It may take a little bit to forge a fresh one—"
"Not to worry! I came prepared." The woman in front of him grinned. She lifted her hand. Bastion watched, head tilted in interest as her palm glowed turquoise and suddenly, CLANG! CLATTER! A pile of swords appeared out of thin air and landed right on the counter top, water sloshing and spilling off the sides of it.
Bastion gawked.
"You wouldn't believe how many people dump their swords in the lake. Nasty little surprise, having one of these buggers hit you right on the noggin. Enchanted, too, most of them!"
"Most of them?" Bastion picked one up, admiring the craftsmanship and the inlaid gems. "All of them, I'd say! This pile is radiating magic. Between the lot of us and this pile we should have the new piece done to your specifications in, oh, about two weeks? Belinda, what do you think?"
A tall, elvish woman came over, magnifying eyepiece in her eye. She hmm'd, examining the gems inlaid in the sword pile quickly and closely. "Maybe more. Some of these enchantments have worn away completely, and they'll need replacing. We can do that in house, of course, but there are a handful we'll need to procure out of shop. The anti-fatigue one, we'll have to pop over the wall to get. The strengthening one, that'll be in the mountains."
"I can grab that one meself," Bastion volunteered.
"I can send Maggie over the wall. She does well with the fairies here. Hmm. Breathing underwater? Now, that one may be a feat—"
"Oh, not to worry! I took care of that one." Another glowing turquoise hand lifted and a small gem appeared in front of the pair, suspended in a bubble of water. "One of my specialties," the lady teased, winking as the bubble popped. The gem landed in Belinda's hand, the water bubble popping right on Bastion's nose.
He wiped it off, completely unbothered.
"I can procure a seeing stone. That should be simple enough. That just leaves the resistant gems. Most of which we have here...all but the cold resistant one. That'll be off in the far frozen."
Behind the pair, one of the magibeans by the anvil perked up. The Lady of the Lake watched as the girl tilted her head, listening in.
"We can send Tristan—"
"TRISTAN?! NOT TRISTAN!"
Belinda looked amused as the girl—a sprite, the lady noted—ran over to their little group. Bastion looked very, very tired. And perhaps a bit anxious? The girl pushed right through the pair of them, indignant, hands on her hips. "Tristan is STINKY! And ANNOYING! He's not even cold resistant—"
"But he is older and has much more experience with these sorts of environments—"
"HE'S GONNA MELT ALL THE ICE! I won't! I can just waltz right through it! Can't you send me? I wanna go! You know I can do it!"
"I know that if I send you and something happens, your father will kill me right dead! Send me right off to Rosehaven, personally! He's trusted me to take care of you!"
Well this just got interesting, the lady thought to herself, watching in amusement. "Does he usually go around killing people?"
"No. Not that I know of, at least. See, he's in a position of power."
"Oh?"
"One of the Governors back home."
"Oh."
"He won't kill you, honest! He's the nicest person I know! "
"Her mother may, though," Belinda pointed out.
Bastion hummed. "Fair point."
"What? No it's not! She'd be super okay with it and say it was furthering my spritely education—"
"Did someone call for me?!"
"UGH nooooOOOOoo go AWAY TRISTAN!"
"Always a pleasure to interact with you, squirt."
A taller sprite had appeared now, shoving the girl to the side and taking her place between the pair of smiths, armour shiny, surcoat barely creased or smudged or dirty. "Fair Lady of the Lake, I would be HONOURED to fetch this gem for you." He bowed deeply, holding his hands above him and summoning a little flame.
The Lady of the Lake barely repressed her snort in time. The sprite rolled her eyes, a sentiment shared with Belinda. Bastion exhaled loudly through his nose.
"That's enough of that. Up you go. It's off to the far frozen for you. We're out of cold resistant gems and we'll be needing one for the new King's SECOND," he shot an unamused glance the lady's way, "sword."
"I will venture to the far frozen mountains! I'll leave at dawn, after procuring the finest cold resistant clothing and warmest warmly enchanted sword we have here!" He dropped the grandeur, looking giddy and very much like the under two-thousand year old sprite he was. "This'll look great for knights looking for a new squire."
"I'm sure," the Lady of the Lake replied, biting her tongue very, very much.
"It will take me but two weeks time—"
"I could do it in one! DAY even! Not week! Come on, do we really have to send him of all people? Of all SPRITES?!"
"That's enough Jacqueline," Belinda spoke sternly. "Mind our guest."
The girl huffed, blowing an errant curl of off her forehead and stomping away, disappearing into the back recesses of the workshop, mumbling something about elements versus what sounded very much like "a whole ass season".
The Lady snickered to herself.
"So sorry about that. She's a..."
"Piece of work?" Tristan suggested.
"Adventurous sort," Belinda spoke over the young squire, glaring daggers at him.
"It's quite all right. Kids. So! Sword. About a month, then?"
"If you'd like the opal then yes, about a month. If not, two weeks."
"Brilliant! I'll be back in a month. And you can keep whatever swords you don't use. I've no attachment to any of them. Cluttering up the lake and hitting my head and interrupting perfectly relaxing mud soaks," she tsk'd. "I'll be off then!"
And before Tristan could abase himself any further, the Lady of the Lake was out the door and well on her way down the lane.
-
The moment Melusine shut the door behind her, she cackled. What an absolute wanker, that Tristan. She had far more faith in the delightfully outspoken sprite than she did in that sorry slip of a squire.
Sword issue taken care of (both of them, thankfully) she made her way back to her humble abode (lake), thoughts returning to her next task: find who had thrown the last sword into her lake and jinx their arm. Terrible aim for a thousand days, perhaps. Or maybe turn it into something wiggly. Like an eel. Or a tentacle. Somewhere in that wheelhouse, for sure—
"HEY! HEY! LADY OF THE LAKE. YOUR LADY OF THE LAKENESS, THAT IS."
Mel turned abruptly, watching as the sprite from before wriggled her way out of one of the windows and ran towards her, waving her down.
"WAIT UP! PLEASE! DON'T GO BACK TO YOUR LAKE YET I WANNA TALK!"
She fell mid run, flat on her face. Mel winced, about to ask if the sprite was all right when she sprung back up (a chilly wind flitting through the lane way) and continued running, unbothered. She skid to a stop right in front of her, breathing heavily for a moment, her coiled braids swinging, little hairs trying to escape the neat loops.
"Alright?"
"Yeah! Absolutely! Just catching my breath. Hi! Sorry to bug you, um, your lakeyness," the girl bobbed a quick and lazy curtsy.
"Not at all."
"Oh! Good! I thought maybe it would be—I wasn't very polite back there. I usually am! Tristan just bugs me a LOT."
"He's a knob."
The girl grinned, laughing. "RIGHT? And it's very annoying that he gets to go on that fetch quest cuz like, ice and snow is my SPECIALTY. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if Bastion and Belinda gave you an estimate? For time, that is."
"With that sop going on the fetch quest? About a month. I can wait, though! I've tons of other things to do in the meantime. Which is more inconvenient as an arm, do you think—tentacle or an eel?"
The sprite looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eel! Because it has a mind of its own! Harder to control if it doesn't think like you. Unless that's not the aim here?"
"No, it is! It is. Good point about the eel."
"Thanks! I try. Without the cold gem thingy. Did Bastion say how long it'd be?"
"About two weeks."
"Oh! Good! So come back in two weeks and it'll be ready."
Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Really now?"
"Mhmm!" The girl nodded exuberantly, an excited glint in her eyes. "I'm gonna go get the opal."
"Didn't your guardian tell you not to?"
"Mmmmmaybe—"
"I heard him myself."
"—ooookay so YES he did BUT! He is OVERREACTING and Tristan is gonna WALK. I CAN TELEPORT! I CAN POOF IN AND OUT AND BE BACK SO FAST!"
Mel served her with a stern look.
The sprite bristled. "I'll be okay! Really!"
"Now I'm all for giving men like Tristan the old what-for, but Bastion's the best swordsmith around. Not to mention a stand-up magibean. I certainly wouldn't like to see him sent to Rosehaven by your parents should something happen to you."
"Nothing's gonna happen! I've survived WAY worse!"
There was a brief pause; a quick emotion passed over her eyes. But before Mel could discern anything other than she meant it when she said she'd survived worse, it was gone, and the sprite continued as though nothing had happened.
"And my parents won't hurt him, I've been out and about for like three hundred years at this point and they have their hands full with my younger siblings. Even THEY could do a better job than Tristan, and they're not even four HUNDRED yet."
Despite how funny the sprite was being, Mel tried very hard to keep the stern facade. "Have you told Bastion you're going?"
"Would you believe me if I said I did and he was okay with it, totally changed his mind?"
"No."
"Look, your lakeyness—"
"Mel."
"Jacqueline!"
"Charmed."
"Me too! You're like, one of the coolest magibeans around these parts. All of the littler kids are losing it in the back," Jacqueline said, giggling. Mel smiled to herself. "Anyway. Please don't tell him! He'll get all over protective and stuff. Which I appreciate of course," she said, sticking her palms flat in front of her. "I'm really glad he let me apprentice here! And he teaches us all how to use the swords which is great! I'm very thankful. Don't get me wrong. I just...really wanna do this, y'know? And telling him would make it really hard for me to do this."
"Hmm. You're right. Perhaps I should cut out the middle man and go right to your parents myself?"
"Please don't! I really, really wanna do this!"
"Ah, so they would stop you?"
The sprite made an unsure noise, tilting her hand back and forth in front of her. "Fifty-fifty."
"Interesting."
"What?"
"Oh, plenty of things. You think I know your parents?"
She shrugged. "Most people do! It's kinda obvious, actually." she flushed a bit, scratching her head. "Anyway, I really think someone needs to knock Tristan off his high horse, and since I don't have jousting mastery yet or the means to get a lance and corner him, I was thinking that if I showed him up instead, it'd lay him FLAT on his BACK!"
"I admit, that does sound very appealing."
"Really?"
"Oh, absolutely. I deal with his type all the time. They're all knobs, really. It'd be fun to see all those big airs pushed right out of them. Do you think they'd make a rather rude noise as they deflate?"
The sprite giggled. "I hope so!"
"Then it's settled! I'll be back in two weeks time for my sword, complete with cold resistant opal."
"Really?" she brightened. It was rather heartwarming.
"Truly."
"Ah, thank you thank you THANK YOU!" she hopped forward, almost hugging the Lady of the Lake before stopping herself with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." she cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out now. I'll be fast! They won't even know I was gone," she winked. "See you in two weeks?"
"I'll be there bright and early for the sword."
"Yay! Okay! See you then!"
And with a cheeky little salute, the girl continued her run down the laneway, a scabbard on her back bouncing with each footfall.
She's got it, Mel thought to herself, as the delightfully outspoken sprite crested the hill and disappeared in a flurry of light blue sparks and what looked to be an actual flurry of snow.
-
Two weeks later found Melusine at the front counter once more, requesting to see her completed sword from a delightfully confused Bastion.
"I mean, it's done as done gets, but Tristan isn't back from the far frozen just yet so the opal is missing—"
"No it's not! TA-DA!"
Mel grinned to herself as Bastion turned. She could picture the jaw drop when his whole body seemed to sag in shock as he looked at the person who had just spoken up.
It was Jacqueline. She stood in a very wide horse stance, proudly holding up a small opal, maniacal grin on her face.
"You didn't."
"I did! And I did it in a DAY. And nothing happened to me at all! And you didn't even notice I was gone! I came right back nice and safe! And my parents won't be doing a murder because I told them what I did and they were very proud, which is what I THOUGHT and also KNEW would happen!"
"Well done," Belinda pipped up from her workspace. "And I suppose this is the reason why I couldn't find the sword in question amongst the others?"
"I stayed up all night getting it ready so that I could do THIS!" With a flourish, she pulled the sword out from behind her, placed it gently down on the counter top, and placed the opal right into the setting she had carefully carved for it last night.
It slid right in and glowed a brilliant, bright white. Then, the other gems glowed; the entire sword, in fact, was glowing, an iridescent rainbow. It lifted up off the counter, shaking for but a moment before flying into the scabbard when Jacqueline held it out in front of her.
The glow diminished; the smithy grew silent.
"Your sword, your lakeyness," Jacqueline said, bowing down and offering it to her. "It has been a great hONoUr to BEQUEATH to you this BLESS-ED OBJECT, for I journeyed SOOO FAR to procure the far frozen opal IN BUT A DAY FOR YOU! WITH NAUGHT BUT MINE OWN TWO HANDS—"
"That's quite enough, Jacqueline," Belinda interrupted, amused.
"It was good, right? I sounded just like Tristan."
"Well I'm impressed," Mel said, taking the scabbard and throwing it over her shoulders.
"And I am most definitely having a heart attack," Bastion decided, clutching his chest.
Belinda rolled her eyes, placing her eyepiece down and coming around the table. Carefully, she turned Bastion around and sat him down, looking him over. "You'll be fine."
"And what of Tristan?"
"I see his type all the time. He'll be right as rain. Oh, sure, his ego will take a hit and he may bemoan and grovel and do all sorts of silly it's the end nonsense, but he'll bounce back. They always do. We can only hope he'll be a little more subdued." Mel shrugged.
Jacqueline looked delighted. "Then we'll see who the piece of work REALLY IS."
"Should we call him back?"
"Nah. It'll be funnier if we leave him alone and he comes back all like OH! WOE IS ME! I HAVE FAILED YOU! And then DEFLATES! With GAS NOISES!"
"He'll be so upset," Bastion mused.
"Gas noises?" Belinda would regret asking, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yeah! Y'know, like, PFFFT," Jacqueline blew a very wet raspberry, hopping up and sitting on the counter. "Maybe Mel will come by to ah, soothe his ego?"
"And by soothe you mean—?"
Jacqueline grinned. "Watch him cry like a big baby and die a bit on the inside when he realizes he was bested by THIS GAL!" She hopped up on the counter, pointing at herself with both her thumbs.
"Jolly good! I'll be sure to pop on by in the next fortnight. Now! Bastion! what is it I owe you?"
Still shocked into silence, Bastion barely managed to utter a puff of air. With a sigh, Belinda pat his head and turned to Mel. "Given his present state and the materials you brought for us to use, consider this one on the house. And Mistress Frost? Off the counter, if you please. That's more than enough out of you."
---
My god, that got out of control. Delightful! I'm sure Mel and Jacquie had a ball when Tristan came back as he very much did think he was BESTED by some DEVILISH FOE. And you know what? He wasn't wrong!
Anyway, this SCRIMBLE was requested by @definitelyy-not-a-vampire a haute minute ago:
The drabbley ficlet smile shot thing just. It just. haPPENED. Whoops! Sorry not sorry!
She WAS gonna be scruffy and grubby and full of soot but then when the Lady of the Lake came into play (who in my mind is 100% @kscribbs Melusine of Miller's Law fame), Jacqueline was like "nah. I'm gonna impress the SHIT outta her! >:D"
And that went from IMPRESS to FUCK AROUND WITH AN ABSOLUTE FOP OF A SPRITE WITH HER in like. 100 words while writing the ficlet, lol.
Enjoy! Here's the un-scanned/edited one:
And you bet your ass I have some design notes >:)
I stole a fashion through the ages textbook from the library (and by steal I mean I have renewed it every semester and it has lived on my bookshelf since about 2019) and scoured through the middle ages chapter to figure out this fit
NOBODY TOLD ME IF SURCOTS WERE SHORT OR LONG SO I YOLO'D.
Wanted to throw in some purpleish pink bc I think purple is in Jacquie's palette, she's THAT GOOD at ice >:)
The hair is not short, it is simply in those braided coif. Things???? And it is a MIRACLE they are staying put
This is between 1350-1450 so she's between 1255-1355. IDEAL Gremlin age lmao
I don't have enough experience/markers to make the opal look opal so YOLO lmao
And yes this is uh, up very late lol. BUT YOU CAN SEE TAGS FOR DEETS! AND THIS JUST MEANS DOUBLE SCRIMBLES THIS WEEK LMAO
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