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wyvernquill · 1 year ago

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One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

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For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #i had this already written so i figured i would just throw it out too #there's one more bit i've got parts of written but i can't make promises #we will see how it goes!#murphy has trained all his birds to steal and shares generously with them #honestly he may be a better boss to these birds than he was for the dreaming...#matthew in particular does deserve bread though. as a treat.#hope you enjoyed their meet-ugly!#(though honestly murphy is quite right not to trust hob)#(a scoundrel like that will just make you fall in love with him and then break your heart)#(but at least he'll help you reconnect with your identity and family so that's nice I guess)

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laeliana · 3 months ago

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Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask : 🧠

Tell me your favorite headcanons about Angeline 👀 And because I know you want to, also your favourite headcanons about Artemis and Minerva 😊

Hiiii ✨ thank you for your ask!

About Angeline, well, I don't have a favorite one, so let's kinda drop all of them:

- she has chestnut hair and warm brown eyes, the latter of which she passed to Beckett

- she used to play the piano, and that's why there's one in Fowl Manor. She's the one who recognized Artemis' absolute pitch and suggested that she should take lessons in musical instruments.

- she loves dancing, parties and dancing parties, much to Arty's dismay

- she knew of Artemis' Senior's "work", but never knew how to confront him, so she kind of ended up locking that in a corner of her mind for the sake of her family. She still feels guilty about that.

- again, she still feels guilty about how she behaved with Artemis and Juliet both during those two years, but since neither of them even mentioned it she never had a chance to confront them about it. One day!

- yes yes a parent should show preferences, but (even if perhaps unknowingly), her favorite among her children is Artemis

- she is often somewhat forgetful, a trait that more than once caused some gaffes.

- she's the most empathic among the Fowls (again, a trait she passed to Beckett), even if she has a blind eye when it comes to Artemis, often not realizing she's embarassing her. For her part, she often feels at loss with her genius daughter, not knowing how to approach her.

- she's rather sensitive to cold, and she likes to spend her holidays in warmer places, like Italy, Southern France or Greece. Again, much to Arty's dismay, since she hates hot climates.

About Artemis and Minerva, one of my favourite headcanons is that, once they are a couple, they are so adept to read the other (because they are genii, because they know how the other thinks, because it's how they themselves would think) that for the most part they express their deepest feelings in shorthand, a look being more than enough to understand the other's emotions, and a word, a gesture or the touch of a hand is enough of an answer. They may look like they're sitting silently next each other while they're excanging a mute dialogue, and if one of the two asks like "What's wrong?", is to help the other to clear their mind more than for real ignorance.

#artemis fowl #artemisfowl #minerva paradizo #minervaparadizo #mintemis #angeline fowl #tumblr games

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yen-sids-tournament · 1 year ago

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the Blue Fairy v Holly Short

Propaganda

the Blue Fairy:

~She's pretty and blue Though Disney didn't want her to be based on the glamour girls of the time, he loved the design for her despite that Hates lying/liars Super sweet ~The FIRST Disney fairy deserves the nomination, if not the win.

Holly Short:

~She’s one of the coolest fairies I’ve ever heard of. Perhaps it’s just something to do with the world building in the books, but she’s such a badass. In Eoin Colfer’s book, fairies aren’t born with wings. She spent time and effort learning to use wing backpack type things to fly. She’s a good friend, but will absolutely shoot you if you’re being stupid. Please, man. I love her.

#FavoriteFairies #yen sids poll #round 1 #disney #Pinocchio #blue fairy #holly short #artemis fowl #disney live action #disney animated movie #disney books #disney tournament #fairies #the fey #fairycore #eoin colfer

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fowlblue · 2 years ago

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So if Artemis fowl gang we’re gods what do you think they would be gods of

Ooo I used to have an AU of this, gimme a sec-

Artemis:

- A young god-to-be of Knowledge, Secrecy, and (eventually), Magic? I like thinking of him in any ‘Gods’ AU as a child of the gods not quite sure what to make of his powers yet, and mostly using them for mischief in the divine realm. He’ll join the pantheon some day, he’s just got a little growing to do!

Holly:

- I feel like being the goddess of the Wind and Sky would suit her well. Holly’s at her happiest when she’s free and flying, and I like the thought of her able to fly as far and fast as she could ever want.

Butler:

- God of Hearth, Home and Shelter. Butler is a source of stability and protection for his loved ones, and I think he deserves recognition for some of his softer traits of caring, such as cooking good food or offering occasional comfort to his friends, as well as his capabilities in battle.

Mulch:

- Why, the god of Thieves, of course! I feel like Mulch would be one of those gods that’s mostly worshipped by smaller groups of people, under-the-radar, and mostly travels the human realm in disguise.

Fowl Senior:

- The god of the Sea, Storms, and the Moon (of course)- likely a bit of a brooding god, with potential for great destruction, but mellowed out by his wife and family. Tim is a character deeply connected to the sea and I think it suits him well, both as a benevolent and yet unpredictable force.

Angeline:

- The goddess of Spring and Sunlight. Angeline is a warm presence whenever she appears in the books, even if at times she is a bit too much, and she’s beloved by her family, so it suits her! I like to think in a Gods AU, one myth spoken about would be her and Tim falling in love.

Opal:

- I think being the Goddess of Death would be great fun for Opal- she certainly has no qualms causing it, and her leading an army of fairy ghosts in TLG is just. Absolutely iconic. Queen shit.

Spiro:

- The god of Lightning and Thunder- given his association with technology in canon, electrical abilities suit him well, and it certainly aligns with his explosive personality. Perhaps instead of The Needle, his temple would be perched on a high mountain somewhere, surrounded by a never-abating thunderstorm…

Britva:

- Okay so Britva has always been heavily associated with ice in my mind, duh, but for this I’m gonna have to go with Fire. Not like, fire in terms of warmth and light. I mean burning. I mean melting. I mean Destruction and Desolation and permanent scarring/melting/twisting of whatever he touches. He’s a villain who never shows his face directly and yet his actions set off the whole series and left permanent marks behind. Also he’s scary as fuck so why not?

#artemis fowl #here you go!! i love god AUs the aesthetics are so much fun to work with and think about #the idea of Artemis running around causing divine mischief is so funny to me. some other god shows up carrying him by the scruff of his neck #- to drop him off at Angeline’s temple because he decided to steal something or cause minor havoc in their stretch of the human realm #asks

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culdeefell-sims · 1 year ago

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Tee shirt collection! Artemis Fowl, the Owl House, Ducktales

On my journey to learning how to Sim, I've uploaded a few simple tee shirt retextures + a bonus sweater.

All graphics are designed by me and also available for purchase IRL on my Redbubble, linked in the title. I'm still figuring everything out, so my style of graphics absolutely WILL change time and time again.

The designs from the shirts are references to Artemis Fowl, the Owl House, and Ducktales 2017.

Including the following designs:

-Artemis Fowl "Randomosity" Tee (T-E)

“Very well, I promise. So, what did you get for me?" Angeline paused for a beat. "Jeans." "What?" croaked Artemis. "And a T-shirt" Artemis took several breaths. "Does the T-shirt have any writing on it?" A rustling of paper crackled through the phone's speakers. "Yes, it's so cool. There's a picture of a boy who for some reason has no neck and only three fingers on each hand, and behind him in this sort of graffiti style is the words RANDOMOSIY. I don't know what that means but it sounds really current." 'Randomosity,' thought Artemis, and he felt like weeping.”

-Artemis Fowl Various Designs Tee (T-E)

Various references to the different books in the series. I've even included a variation on the D'Arvit design in the new movie Gnommish, though we do not talk about that movie.

-Artemis Fowl D'Arvit Sweater (T-E)

The text bar on her chest displayed one word in block capitals. It was the same word that she had shouted just as the hydrogel had frozen the text display: “D’Arvit,” swore Holly under her breath, which coincidentally was the same word frozen on her chest.

-The Owl House "Be Gay, Do Witchcraft" Tee (T-E)

Be gay. Do witchcraft. Perhaps I ought to make one for Eda, too.

-Ducktales McDuck Family Field Trip Tee (CU)

Huey made matching tee shirts for all his family! It's a shame they're all, well, Huey-sized. (Wish I could've found a better quality screenshot from the episode!)

Unisex, bgc, download on Patreon! Let me know if you use, please? Free to recolor, re-edit, however you please, as long as you credit the graphics to me.

#culdeefellsims #ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 cc download #ts4 cc cas #cas cc #sims 4 cas #the sims 4 #artemis fowl #af #fowldom #the owl house #toh #lumity #luz x amity #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #huey duck

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reddogf13 · 7 months ago

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Pride & Ruin CH 2

on A03 as well

Alcina X Ethan

summery: Determined to find his daughter Ethan Winters, an omega, storms the castle of Alcina Dimitrescu, an alpha. While fleeing her three beta daughters Ethan has the unfortunate luck of being snagged on the alphas claws. Slipping out a yelp, Ethan fears the worst. Instead, luck will be in his favor under a prideful alpha and Miranda's plans will fall to ruin.

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - fowl language and gore

Previous chap: Ch:1 Misstep

Next chap: Ch:3 Standstill

___________________

~Ch:2 Scars & gauze~

Alcina put on a show of absolute disappointment in herself. “I apologize mother, he escaped my castle in the night. I couldn't track him and my daughters couldn't follow in the cold. I had hoped I would have caught him again before you found out. I was sure he ran toward the village to hide. When did the child go missing?”

The other snarled. “In the night, The father must have her.” settling her anger. “he cant have gotten far with the snow storms. Fool must be lost out there, hunkered down in some barn perhaps.”

“Did Salvatore say where he went?”

“no, that failure blubbered a million apologies that I've had enough of hearing. This mistake couldn't be forgiven. I've already informed the others there is one less lord today.”

Holding back a smile at the news. “you struck him down?” Easy to brush the feeling away as guilt crept in for her betrayal. Was this a mistake?

“This ceremony cannot be done without them. Everything's been ruined by his mistake. The child hadn't even been crystallized before she was taken. When I find her, I'll have to do the job.”

If I tell her I found them. Would she be happy then? “If that's the case, could the Lycan's find them? A crying baby isn't very quiet.”

“mm, yes. I fear they'd make it worse if one of them were harmed beyond repair.”

Did she really trust me? “May I ask why they're so important? could another pair do?” Will she admit why they're so important? “This feels like a lot of trouble for two betas.” Maybe I was wrong. A simple fear she'll realize was nothing to worry about. She'll tell me, admit her worries. A fleck of a flinch proving her guilt of keeping them secret from me. To see that worried look I used to see on our walks so long ago.

The question flustered Miranda, her feathers disturbed from their lax stature. “no.” Her stare was hard, cold at the idea. A fury stabbed into the tall lord's heart. What secret Miranda was keeping would never be admitted to Alcina. “I don't want to risk the ceremony more than it already is. I've looked long and hard and they're exactly what I need. When you find them, bring them immediately to me.” The look she gave was anything but friendly. “I'm tired of hearing every one of you failing me.” huffing out her annoyance.

Heart aching, Alcina brought her hands behind her back. One hand gripping her wrist as the other held itself tightly closed. Wanting to unleash her claws so badly, but now wasn't time. Oh mother, how foolish of you. Biting her tongue when Miranda continued.

“send out your girls to try finding them. I'll be requesting that Heisenberg send out the Lycan's to scour the land.”

“Of course, my girls will certainly find the man-thing and the child.” bearing a forced smile up until the other left. Smile turned to grit teeth she growled through.

“what should we do?” Cassandra asked.

“take an hour or two to run around the village in a fake search. after a few days you can stop bothering.”

Daniela whispered next. “Is the man-thing still here?”

whispering her reply. “Yes, I lured him into the den last night.” waving for them to follow deeper into the castle.

then Bela whispered. “You have him?”

“yes.”

The girls flooded her with questions from there.

“What's he doing?”

“Can we see him?”

“Is the child with him now?”

“Can we still hold her?”

“Does he like the den?”

It brought a smile to her face to see them so curious. Answering their questions quickly in order. “nesting for now. Not until he's comfortable enough to wander the den. Yes. No, they need time to bond. We must wait and see.” taking some time to share a meal with her daughters along with a bottle of fine wine. Allowing Ethan the time to explore the den without being intimidated by her presence. They needed to bond eventually though.

Bela, her wonderful hoarder of knowledge, brought up the topic. “what's to happen with him? Will you claim him soon?”

“A fresh meeting had bonding go far quicker. ours has been ruined by my aggression toward him. Each attack drove him further away, that now need tender gestures to win him back. For now, I'll have to give him space to familiarize himself with the den. Confidence there would bring him out to see me more. As for a claim, it's far too soon. It'd fall apart soon after without any sort of bonding done beforehand.” tapping her fork on a piece of soft egg.

Daniela finished a bite to ask. “But wouldn't it keep him safe from Miranda?”

“It'd make it far harder. Being unclaimed, it's easy for him to drift toward any alpha. I can see he's incredibly touch starved without one already. A claim will stop his drifting, but she could tear that away with enough pressure. And me claiming far too early can poison any further bonding.”

“aren't betas supposed to help with that?” Bela took a quick sip of wine. “what if we talked with him?”

“Yes, they provide a safety buffer.” sipping her own. “I wish you could, but not being born betas is a block. Instincts wont come naturally, you'll have to be trained somehow.”

“on what?”

“care, body cues, social cues, when to post.”

“post?” Cassandra joining the conversation she'd thought nothing much of so far.

Daniela answered before her mother could. “short for fence post. you go on guard by posting around the omega through body blocking, like a fence. It's not always because of threats, it keeps them calm when traveling outside the den.”

Her mother praised. “Yes, that's right. Been studying the books have you?”

“Hmph, that's all?” Cassandra stuck her tongue at her sister. “Sounds easy to me.”

“It's an important responsibility.” The stare given by her mother had Cass shrink in her chair. “there's a lot to the position. You should study the books with your sister to get a sense of it.” eating through their meals quietly. After their breakfast she carefully made a meal for him. Unsure if he'd even eat it with how skittish he was.

Choosing something hearty she made a baked pheasant on mashed potatoes sided by green beans. One way to catch an omegas attention was to give them a filling meal. It wasn't exactly a breakfast, but it's what he needed. Taking it up to the den she opened the door purposely slow and loud. Announcing her arrival, if he was out, to prepare him. Approaching the bed she opened the curtains to glance over it. Finding a disturbance at the blankets end and where the pillows began. Setting the tray of food near it she Stepped away to sit on the couch by the fireplace. afterwards she noticed the bottle was gone.

Ethan waited after feeling a shift of weight on the bed. It wasn't much from what he could tell. strong smell of fresh hot food reached him under the covers. Stomach painfully growling at him to find its source he climbed out. spotting the plate right away he looked between it and the parted curtains. Dragging it closer to breath in the delicious smells. He couldn't hold back from ripping into the meal. Swallowing chunks down at a time he slowed briefly to breath. In a few minutes the plate was cleared of anything edible. A pile of bones left as the only clue to what it had before. Setting his chin on the bed he closed his eyes to digest. That's the best I've eaten in a while. him and Mia being so busy rarely cooked at home. Fast food was what they had for every meal until Rosemary came along. Doing better to sit at the dinner table when he became a stay at home dad. What he cooked was nothing fancy. Some frozen vegetables and what frozen meat looked good at the store. Didn't think I could burn a whole casserole. Thing was frozen solid when I started. At least the garlic bread came out perfect. Drifting off on the memories he failed to stay awake.

Unsure how long had passed his mind was slow to wake after a deep sleep. Ready to knock right back out he was so comfortable. Imagining he was in his own bed back home. Rosemary resting in her own crib. A soothing scent of chilled mountain air blowing between pines laced by- … wait. … he breathed in. That's not right. That's ... her sce- his eyes shot open followed by the rest of him. Shoved back down by a hand across his back.

“don't.” she commanded gently. “stay still.”

Ethan froze in place as his thoughts raced on what to do. Checking on what she was doing in leaning over him. His shirt was raised to reveal his side while her free hand felt along him. Smoothing over the wounds there that were mere dips. His skin prickled against her touch in holding back a shiver. Enjoying the physical attention he didn't want her to notice. Subtly letting out a breath when she finished.

“we need to get you cleaned. Come on.” tapping his shoulder after he was allowed to move again.

He glared at her and refused to move at first. Shoving himself back to hide back down when she stopped him short.

Gripping onto his shirt and sweater she yanked him forward. “no, come on! You're filthy and you can't stay here like this.”

He remained adamant of not going and leaving Rose alone while she was nearby. Distract me and let her girls snatch her away. I'm not letting that happen. tugging on her lifting hold.

“... I promise she'll be here when you come back. Look at yourself, you're covered in rot that can make her sick.”

When he looked he saw what she meant. Forgetting how bad he was before he even stepped into this castle. Dried on Mud, dried Lycan slobber, blood from monsters and some of it his own. He slumped, knowing she was right, but didn't want to leave Rosemary alone. Her grip tight on him until he begrudgingly left the bedroom to follow. Keeping close to the walls while ready to run back to the bedroom if he saw someone approach. He'd been refusing to leave the spot without duplicate nests to confuse. Omegas always had two to three others that were used to confuse attackers. Move their young around if one was deemed unsafe to stay at. Back home he had a few that Mia always found inconvenient. Needing to ask him where Rose was hidden this time after he got too paranoid of the last spot. Here, he had no extras to pass between. Watching diligently past the door space he refused to let it out of his sight. It took a lot for him to glance at anything else. Wanting to get into the tub, but she was still here. “can you go?” tempering his aggression toward her.

“I have to look you over.”

a blush hit his face. “for what?”

“check your wounds.”

“the ones you gave?”

“Yes, and the others.” stating so flatly.

He grumbled in stripping down one piece of clothing at a time. Awkwardly waiting in his boxers while she circled him. Twitching the few times she touched him in inspecting a wound. Fresher Lycan bites, cuts, stabs, bruises decorated most of him. Flinching at a few thorns she flicked off his skin. Holding his chin she moved his head up in inspecting his neck. Struggling against her to dip his head back down. No, not claimed. His inner thought burned with anger. Ethan knew she was checking to see how hard a claim would be. Alphas always marked their omegas through a scarred ring of bites around the neck. as a warning to others they had an alpha ready to kill for them. Without one on him, his claiming would be easy the next time his heat would hit. By how much he was tolerating her touching him, he knew it'd be soon. I have to get out of here. tensing his jaw to not snap at her hand he only relaxed when she let go.

Crossing the paths of his older scars from Louisiana she checked every one. She recognized the fresh, but began asking about the older ones. “Where's that one from?” tapping her own wrist to gesture about his.

“uh. ...” he wasn't sure how to put it. “a parasitic mold infesting a body hacked it off with a chainsaw.” rather avoid painting Mia in a bad light. Even though it wasn't her, a part of him feared that the aggression she had toward him was real. They had to overcome a lot of problems after Louisiana. All the secrets she hid from him.

“that one?” asking about another had him refocus.

“stabbed by a shovel.”

Her circling inspection slowed to a stop as each next scar told a more complicated story. Now she was standing there, just staring, and he came to prefer the circling more. He should have been worried about what she was going to do, but was instead worried about his presentation. She's seen I'm a mangled mess. He'd been so fearful of running into alphas it had slipped that maybe they didn't want him. Not to mention all the mental scars. It made him appear as a sickly omega any alpha would scrunch their noses at. I should stop talking. She thinks I'm crazy after all I've said. Monsters in the swamp, A fiery car battle, some puzzles with tapes and giant mold mutants. An omega whose far too much trouble for what his mangled self is worth. He felt sick being seen so weak. He wanted to hide, he had to, before he'd be discarded as trash. Everything around him was dark and suffocating. He took a step back in readying to turn into a run. Jolted by a hand holding his face. He tried to yank away on reflex of being attacked. Imagining his face being mauled into. Splashed by some warm water his dark world melted away to being back in the bathroom. Wheezing for air as he clawed into Alcina's arm out of fear, that then lessened into holding on to stay standing.

“Winters.” She spoke his name and tapped his face with a finger resting along his jaw.

He swallowed between a few more wheezes. Unable to answer at the moment.

“Come here, sit down.” gently moving him to the tub steps she had him sit halfway in the bubbling water. The steam soothed his aching lungs down from hyperventilating. Stilling from his traumatic flash she released his face. “stay here.” leaving his side to head out of the room.

He didn't react at first until Rosemary! He rushed out of the water to stop just behind Alcina. Water flowing off him and his soaken boxers to create a puddle at his feet.

She turned to glare for the disobedience. “i told you-” readying to scold him, but let it go with a glance out of the room. “stay here then.” pointing to the doorway. Long as he had a clear view of the bedroom he wasn't so anxious in watching her go to the main door. “Bela!” her voice carried far down the castle halls. The sound of a buzzing swarm made Ethan's skin tense. Hearing Bela and her mother pass some foreign words in Romanian then she flew off. He didn't understand them, yet enjoyed how smoothly the alpha spoke them. She waited a moment for Bela to return with a bag of items. Taking them she waved her daughter off with a closing of the door. Returning to Ethan, bag in hand, she shooed him back inside.

“back in the water.” she ordered. Pulling a short wood table over to set things across it. A brass bowl of sorts with a pile of herbs. Some piles into a small burning incense while she chucked more into the hot bath. The whole room took on a warm comforting scent. It reminded him of a fall festival outside. Scents of apple cider, spices, and a smooth vanilla pairing well with hers. He was still on edge, but it helped. A part of him missed the physical attention he was getting. Wanting to relax into the affectionate warmth of physical contact he rarely got. Mia would give him a kiss, a hug, but it was never enough. Betas couldn't be as in tune with an omegas needs as much as an alpha could. Similar instincts to make nests, bond, and courting were easy to see. Although betas had an important place being the middle ground. It would have been better for both to have one now. His and her interactions too close so soon came off as intimidating for him. Alphas could be extremely aggressive and unsafely forward on claiming an omega upon first meeting. Brutalizing them into submission or worse, outright killing them when rejected. Omegas were flighty in an alphas presence and would hide away until they left the territory. A preferred slower courting by an alpha, without a beta, was limited to gift giving outside an omegas den.

Specifically meals the omega needed while too anxious to leave. A task she'd taken seriously on having each offer being better than the last. “I'll clean your clothes in the meantime. When you're out and dry I'll have dinner for you both.” stepping away she left him alone for some privacy.

He questioned in thought. Dinner? How long was I out? Another day lost, another day closer to his heat kicking off. I have to get out. His mind repeated. I can't get past the door. That things built to survive a battering ram. rubbing his face to rake his hands through his hair. Ethan went to look outside the bathroom to check if she was fully gone. Relaxing that she wasn't poised in front of the bedroom. He got back into the tub for a scrub down in record time. Refreshed in the warm water soothing his bruised body. Resting his head down at the tub's edge he relaxed across from the doorway. Stuck in the water until his clothes were returned.

Soaking for a while he tensed when she returned. His neatly folded clothes set on a lounge chair. “dinner will be ready soon.”

He waited until she was gone to get redressed. His layered outfit still warm from the dryer and smelling of softener. He hated everything about this. Have to get out. His mind buzzed with ideas of what to do. Exploring further out in the den for any other weak point. Only one wall connected to the hall and it felt far too strong to chip through unlike the lower levels. Locking onto the windows next, he ran over expecting them to be fixed to the brick. Hope filled him by a turning roller at its corner. After not having been used in forever it required some extra force to get it open. Peering over the window sill down to a drop that was a good six stories down. Ooh boy. Breathing out his fear of what a drop like that could do. How would I even get down?… an idea hit him, but he needed to be fast before she got back.

Many floors down below, Alcina was in the kitchen distracted by dinner and her girls asking questions again. Focused on not burning the delicate white wine sauce she'd been preparing. Pausing only to check on how the rest of the meal was doing. A pot of bubbling pasta on the fire stove. A side piece of shredded chicken turning crispy in a skillet. Dusting fine herbs across it or adding a little more butter. When the sizzling pan calmed down her girls asked the next important question they had.

Casandra asked. “What will we do about Miranda?”

“I have an idea, although I loath the things I'll have to do for it. So, for right now I'll be focused on courting and possibly coming up with something better.”

Bela asked next while taking the pasta off the stove. “is courting like how betas date?”

“no, it's a bit more intricate than that.” grabbing various things for plating. “even more so after the harm I've done.”

“hasn't he healed yet?”

“his physical body, yes. Not so much the mental. He's been through far more than just our village with all the scars to prove it. His anxiety runs higher than many, for good reason, with determination to keep his daughter safe being the lone factor to press him on. Simple courting through gifts may not be enough.”

“what will you do?”

“I'm thinking. For now it's being as pleasant as possible when I'm around. Keeping him calm and relaxed enough to feel both him and his daughter are safe. This would be far better if we had a beta between us.” Her stirring paused, their conversation dying when they heard the long howl of a Lycan. They'd found something of extreme interest to call the whole pack onto.

Daniela hopped down from sitting on a countertop. “what do you think it is?” trying to find out by a window.

“deer maybe?” Cassandra answered boredly. “one of the last around since they got the rest. You think Miranda will have us keep searching after the three days? I'm tired of wrecking the empty houses for something that's not even there.”

Alcina scoffed. “Even if she does I'll put a stop to it soon enough.” taking the sauce pot off to pour onto the plate of pasta. Each piece carefully handmade from scratch to be beautifully presented.

“Can we see him now?” watching her mother set the plate on a wooden tray.

“no, he still hasn't come out much. I wont be down here often aside from cooking. Longer I stay with him the more used to me he'll get.” next to the plate was a porcelain teapot with a matching tea cup. Taking the set up in one hand as she grabbed the baby bottle in the other.

“Is there really nothing we can do?” Bela asked. “Would us being nearby help calm him?”

“mm.” she hummed. Wanting so badly to see her daughters as excellent alphas. However, their inability to click into hierarchical cues and scents locked them out. Locked down as betas being the closest they can be. They'd have to learn to be betas somehow and wasn't learning by doing the best? “... maybe, if you stay calm you can come up.” hoping they could become that much needed buffer to coax him out. Second guessing when Daniela yelled with joy at possibly seeing him and the baby. “You have to be quiet dear.”

“yes mother!” still too excited.

Maybe I should have Bela go in alone to start. followed up the whole way by the three.

Daniela reached the door first, about to rush in when she snapped back. “It's freezing in there!” flashing back behind the group to a warmer part of the hall.

“what?” her mothers brows furrowed. Can't be that cold. Did the fire go out? Approaching the door she felt the icy chill of high mountain air. Alarmed, she rushed right over to the bedroom noticeably missing its canopy. “WHAT?!” she shouted toward the stripped down bed. Every single layer but the pillow pile was gone. Roughly setting the food down she didn't have to look far for the escape window. A crafted together robe attached to a pillar went out the entire way down to the roof. A set of prints set running away in the snow. NO! That howl earlier stirred up a cloud of dread. Too late for the girls. It was getting dark, the snow fall was too big a risk for them. Racing faster than she ever had to, to leave the castle.

“we can go-” Bela's offer was shot down.

“no! Stay here, I'll find him by tracking the Lycan's.” if Miranda hasn't reached him. She didn't bother to grab a coat, bashing her iron fence out of the way with no care toward it. Listening for any sign she was closing in while following the scent of wet dog. Inner rage kept her warm at the scent of blood. His, drifting on the blowing wind. How dare they! She grit her teeth together. On the hunt for the source she found an unfortunate Lycan first, covered in his dried blood. it didn't have time to react to her sudden appearance when it was turned into a flying pile of sliced meat. Each following Lycan suffered the same deadly fate that had the pack fleeing in terror. Clearing the village it was easier to find his trail without distraction. A mess of blood had her fearing he wouldn't survive the injuries caused. Even with her long striding gait it took a lot of time following his bloody trail. Visions of finding him dead occupied her mind the whole way. Trudging up a steep hill side she heard a familiar waterfall. Squinting through the dark, a large building wasn't far. Beneviento. A growl left her chest. If she did anything. Heading right for the door his trail ended.

Inside the house was a small figure watching her out the upstairs window. A delicately crafted doll in a tattered wedding dress it'd always had. “Oooh boy.” the doll would be sweating bullets if it could. Her connected life line, Donna, certainly was.

Ethan had run inside their house half an hour ago a bloody mauled mess to go hide in the basement. Donna didn't think much about it, but that he was an annoyance barging in. posturing her flowers to shake their hallucinogenic pollen in the basement. A call ready to be sent off to Miranda that he was here when the scent of his blood hit her. It took her a moment to guess what it was. Something warmly sweet that didn't match a neutral betas. Wide eyed at the distorted scent hitting her like a ton of bricks. It had been so long since she'd seen an omega she thought they were extinct already. Caught between the alpha mother Miranda and a horribly injured omega she so badly wanted. Donna just wanted to kick him out and wipe her hands clean as if nothing happened at all.

She sent her doll companion, Angie down to try and scare him out. Cursing at him that he was “fucking up the floor!” with his blood getting everywhere.

He was disturbed by her appearance, yet refused to move. In part it was because he couldn't. His blood wasn't seeping out from a few cuts. About torn apart four different ways by the Lycan pack cornering him in the village. Wheezing through the blood filling his mouth. Nose dripping blood onto his shredded chest. Legs equally mangled as bits of flesh hung off in shreds. Claw marks, bites, stabs, arrows jutting from his back. It was a miracle he fought them off and lost them in the snow to make it here.

On the verge of passing out he told the doll to “fuck off.” head ticking up to stay awake.

When the baby wrapped in his arms began to cry the two backed off on chasing him out. They missed seeing her when he ran through to hide among a cotton filled barrel pile. and Unlike him, she was unharmed. Donna let him be alone to rest, hopefully heal, to eventually leave on his own. After ten minutes she wanted to go down and check on them. Fighting her beta instincts to care for him. They didn't provide care in the same way alphas could, but acted more as a family bond kind of care. Betas attached to alphas or omegas in starting a clan structure. Many would say alphas were the top, betas the middle, and omegas were at the very bottom in a power hierarchy. It was More of omegas were alongside the alphas at the core. as an important pair that was the head of the family. Betas were more of a circle around them and treated with just as much respect. They cared for the sick, injured, helped care for the pairs needs, and provided a separation of safety between the two. A bond that Donna was naturally picking up, begrudgingly, around the two. Twelve minutes passed when she gave in by sending Angie down. The knocked over barrel of cotton he had burrowed in was stained red with his blood. His body wheezed in its passed out state, his child keeping quiet. unaware of why, but instinctively knowing it wasn't safe to make any noise.

She debated for a minute or two then grabbed some supplies. A bunch of blankets, herbs, a first aid kit, and a jug of water. “annoying, annoying!” her friend spoke fast in skipping along beside her. Taking the elevator down where Angie led the way to him in the workshop.

What a waste of stuffing. She thought, removing the tainted cotton. Checking over him she gently shook his shoulder. Flinching when he was startled up, slamming his head into the barrel. He groaned in pain and looked to her. Flinching away when she got close. An offer of water helped to ease his worries.

It was easier to relax around her, a beta then an alpha. They didn't kill young who were potential competition. They had no urge to claim omegas. They didn't want to kill over territory. They were far calmer in temperament and Donna's whispering tone made it extra easy. Scrubbing out his wounds using a bottle of alcohol. Letting her patch him up with healing poultice and stitching wire. Chugging all the water she brought him. Managing to patch up his shredded pants with dark fabrics Angie fetched from upstairs.

Angie gestured toward him. “Can you take off that mangled rag you call a jacket?” it needed more work then his pants did.

Stiffly he did as he was told. Removing his jacket and the sweater underneath. Skin prickled at the cold hitting him before he was handed the blankets. Shuffling them around to fill the emptied barrel. It wasn't as fancy as the other den, but it would do. Hidden underground in a dark corner among a pile of barrels was the closest one could get to a natural underground burrow. Hunkering down beside Rose, who at least made quiet babbling noises when her father relaxed enough.

Donna collected everything to put away. Fixing his jackets up stairs using similar colored cloth. While Angie talked to her about the suddenly acquired omega. “so, do we tell mother Miranda?”

And get blamed for his injuries? I won't take the chance of dealing with an angry alpha. Speaking to the doll without physically needing to. Especially after Salvatore was vaporized. I'm going to wait and see what he does. Maybe he'll leave when he's rested enough.

“mother Miranda complained about him getting that kid last night. You'd think he'd be gone by now.”

The mountains around here aren't exactly a lovely stroll. All this snow blocked off the roads until spring. unlucky, but lucky for him it must've covered his trail from the Lycan's for the most part. He must be on suppressants too. I could hardly smell him when he came in.

“Why do you think she didn't mention it? Think she didn't know?”

no, she stole the child for a reason. I assume the same reason is why she gave winters to Heisenberg. Since lady Dimitrescu-

“is heading up here.”

huh? - what?!

Now, presently, they had an incredibly pissed off alpha coming for them. “DONNA!” her name was roared from outside.

“uh, lemme talk to her.” Angie ran out the room to meet downstairs. Donna could always put the doll back together if it was sliced to pieces, unlike herself.

Their door was chopped to bits for the other to crouch through impatiently. “Donna!”

“whoa, whoa, whoa lady! You didn't have to kill the door!” gesturing to the scattered pieces.

“Where is he?!” claws out in preparation to shred the doll down. “I know he's here! Did you touch him?!”

she took cover behind a wood pillar. “He's here, safe, fine!” quick to answer.

“where?!”

“he's hiding. Sleeping off his injuries.”

“where?” her anger doused enough to set her claws away.

“won't say.”

“you-!”

“no! Hang on Godzilla! He's resting! You'll freak him out and ruin all the stitches!”

Alcina let out another growl. Hot air blew out her nose to fog the air. Reigning in her anger to speak more civilly. “How bad is he?”

“they mauled him pretty good. You saw the trail. Took forever to clean the floors. Got him stitched up and packed with herbs. He did a lot better than others we've seen torn the same.”

“Is his daughter with him?”

“Yes, she didn't need any care.”

“Have you told Miranda he's here?”

“no, we tried to avoid having an angry alpha in our house. Have you?”

“no.”

“going to?”

“… I don't plan on it.”

“oooh?”

“tsk, shut it.”

“whyyyy? Is Miss mountain hiding something?”

“Yes, and so are you. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless you want to end up like Salvatore.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't have to tell us twice.” leaving her minimal protection behind the pillar. “How long have you known about him?”

“these past days. He escaped Heisenberg rather effortlessly after the meeting. Took me longer than I'd like to admit to recognize after chasing him around my castle. Got him once on my claws and he yelped.” a sting felt in her chest when she recalled the sound.

“aaaand?”

“and I've had him in a den since yesterday before he climbed out a window.”

“If he was there, then who got the kid for him? Hmm?”

“ugh. … my girls.”

Angie manically laughed. “heh heh! oooh, you are in trouble.”

“So are you, pest.”

she laughed again. “ha, ha, sure are.” Calming down. “Do you want some tea?”

she let out a tired sigh. “yes.”

Without the threat of being turned to meat cubes, Donna came down stairs. Starting a kettle on the stove to sit at her dining table with Alcina. Angie sat on a stack of books atop her own chair. Together they Discussed the one resting down below. Sipping cups of freshly made hot tea in between Alcina's questions.

“What did you give him?”

“a few blankets.” Angie answered for Donna.

“that's all?”

“We weren't expecting a guest.”

“That's hardly a nest.” Alcina's judgment of his new nest went on and on. Switched to debating how to get him back to the castle.

“Move him? You can’t possibly move him right now. The stress between that and you looming over would send him into shock.” Angie pointed out as they argued. Coming to the conclusion that he shouldn't be moved right now. conversation shifting gears into negotiations. “you can't move in!” the doll screeched.

“I'm not, he is. I'll bring everything he needs.”

“And what if we don't want him?”

“He's already moved in for a little too long. You treated his wounds and stopped me from simply taking him. You've developed a soft spot, surely.”

Donna let out a sigh knowing it was the truth. If he's moving in, I'll be watching him. tell her-

Angie grumbled before speaking clearly to the tall lord. “Fine, but you can't see him.”

Alcina's immediate reaction was fury in the form of claws gouging deeply into the table. “why not?”

“what do you mean “why not?” he ran away because he's terrified of you! For god's sake lady!”

“He's my omega, not yours.” releasing a deep growl of warning.

“don't you “Rrrr”, me. You wanna see him all the time. Take him back to that tacky castle of yours. I'm sure he'll be absolutely thrilled! Make sure there are bars on the windows this time.”

Alcina swore she was breathing out fire with each breath. Speaking her reply through grit teeth. “fine.” cooling the bellowing dragon within. Tapping her nails on the counter. “shall I assume this will be a classic courting then?”

“yes.” setting the rules. “Cant see him, but bring what you want and we'll pass it along. When all sides are ready, we'll gather.”

“very well. I'll bring everything over while it's still dark.” tapping the table one last time then she stood to leave. “Sorry about the door. I'll bring you another.” apologizing as she leaned through the doorway. Mildly regretting her lack of coat now. The winds chilling her skin without a roaring fury inside.

#resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #ethan winters #ethan x alcina #alcithan #Pride & Ruin fanfic #Alpha/ Omega - diet flavor #non-traditional Alpha/ Omega #re8 village #donna beneviento #angie beneviento

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pixel7777 · 2 months ago

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This Old House - A Bloodweave Fanfic: Ch. 13

See Ch. 1 for work summary and content tags. Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

Chapter Summary:

Action Items Updates: ✅ Deliver an extremely grumpy, injured Shadowheart home. ✅ Confirm that Shadowheart is protected by an unreasonably large number of cats. ✅ Acknowledge that the day has been entirely too long. ❌ Check on the Szarr estate before sleeping. (Absolutely not.) ❌ Deal with any more of Bormul’s nonsense. (Tomorrow’s problem.) ❌ Get a peaceful night’s rest. (Unlikely.)

Astarion

By the time Astarion and Gale escorted Shadowheart to her home on the outskirts of Rivington and got her into bed under an unsettlingly large cuddle pile of cats, it was well past midnight. Astarion found himself counting the felines occupying Shadowheart's bed—seven, no, eight cats of various colors, all converging on their injured owner like fuzzy sentinels.

"That's... a lot of cats," Astarion whispered as they backed out of her bedroom.

"I lost count at twelve," Gale murmured back. "I'm not entirely sure where they all came from. They just... appeared when we arrived."

Outside in the cool night air, exhaustion hit Astarion like a physical blow. They had been awake since before dawn, when assassins had rudely interrupted their sleep at the Elfsong. The day had stretched endlessly with confrontations, death, and far too many emotions.

Gale yawned and stretched. "Perhaps we should check on the manor before turning in. After yesterday, who knows what state it's in—or if more of Bormul's men might have paid it a visit."

"No." The word came out sharper than Astarion intended.

Gale raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Not tonight." Astarion shook his head. "I cannot walk back into that place right now. Not after—" He cut himself off, the baron's taunts still ringing in his ears. The fowl way the monster had spoken of him...

"Astarion—"

"I'm not having it, Gale. Not tonight. I need..." He trailed off, not entirely sure what he needed except distance from anything connected to Cazador. "Let's go to Jaheira's. She'll have news of the raids by now. And she likely has wine."

Gale started to protest—then stopped. His expression softened. "You're right. The house can wait until tomorrow."

"The house has waited centuries. It can survive one more night." Astarion started walking. "Besides, it has those spawn for company."

"Do you think the house is aware of them?" Gale fell into step beside him.

"How should I know? I'm not the expert on sentient buildings." Astarion ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe they're having a lovely chat about what a bastard Cazador was. Trading stories. 'Oh, you should have seen what he did to Harold for spilling wine!' 'That's nothing, Evelyn got torn apart for breathing too loudly!'"

"Astarion—"

"I'm fine." He wasn't fine. "I just need to not think about any of it for a few hours. Is that too much to ask?"

Gale reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. "Not at all. Let's see what Jaheira knows. And yes, she definitely keeps good wine."

Jaheira's cottage stood dark and silent, no welcoming lantern illuminating the windows. Astarion's knuckles barely grazed the door before he realized no one would answer.

"She's not home," he said, disappointment washing through him. "The raids must still be underway."

"Then we should return tomorrow," Gale said, already turning away.

Astarion grabbed his sleeve. "Where's your sense of adventure? She wouldn't mind us waiting inside." Before Gale could protest further, Astarion crouched by the lock, withdrawing the thin metal tools he always kept tucked in his boot. "This is nothing complicated."

"Astarion, we can't just break into Jaheira's home."

"It's not breaking in if you're expected," Astarion countered, working the tumblers with practiced precision. "Besides, she's probably having buckets of fun dealing with minions while we had to deal with that nasty villain—the least she can do is provide shelter afterward."

The lock yielded with a satisfying click.

"There we are," Astarion said, pushing the door open and slipping inside. "Come along, darling. Don't stand out there looking scandalized."

Gale followed reluctantly, closing the door behind them. "I'm noting for the record my objection to this plan."

Astarion ignored him, already surveying Jaheira's living area. Unlike Shadowheart's cat-infested cottage, Jaheira's home had a certain order to it—herbs hanging from ceiling beams, bookshelves lined with worn tomes, and—most importantly—a cabinet that looked very promising.

"Ah," he said, opening it to reveal several bottles of wine. "Here we are."

He selected the dustiest one, which usually indicated quality, and moved to the large, cushioned couch near the unlit hearth. A pile of blankets rested in a nearby basket. Perfect.

"Make yourself useful and light a fire," Astarion said, uncorking the wine with his teeth and spitting the cork across the room. He took a swig directly from the bottle. "Mm. The woman has taste."

While Gale reluctantly set about lighting the hearth, Astarion noticed several cats lurking in the shadows, watching with suspicious yellow eyes.

"Here, kitty," he cooed, extending his fingers. The nearest tabby hissed and disappeared behind a chair. "Rude little things, aren't they? I thought cats were fond of the undead."

"I believe that's an old wives' tale," Gale said, settling beside him on the couch. Astarion immediately draped himself across Gale's lap, passing him the wine.

"Still, they should show some respect. I'm a hero of Baldur's Gate, after all," Astarion said, arranging a blanket over them both. He tried clicking his tongue at a black cat perched on a distant shelf. It narrowed its eyes and turned away.

Giving up on his feline diplomacy, Astarion reclaimed the bottle from Gale. "Never mind the cats. Did you hear the sound Bormul's head made when you bashed it in? Like a melon hitting cobblestones." He chuckled, taking another long drink. "Who knew you had it in you?"

Gale winced. "Must we discuss this?"

"Oh, we absolutely must. It was magnificent." Astarion grinned, passing the bottle back. "The great and noble wizard Gale, breaker of skulls and slayer of slavers."

"I didn't... I didn't mean to kill him."

"That makes it even better!" Astarion laughed, snuggling deeper into their nest of cushions and blankets. "The look on your face—priceless!"

Astarion stretched languidly across Gale's lap, setting the wine aside. The fireplace cast a warm glow across the room, making it feel cozy and intimate. Perfect conditions for some mischief.

"You know," he purred, tracing a finger along Gale's jaw, "there's something irresistibly attractive about you when you're being dangerous." He shifted his position, moving to straddle Gale's lap. "Just imagine the look on Jaheira's face if she walked in on us... right here... on her couch."

Gale didn't respond with his usual flirtatious banter. His eyes seemed distant, unfocused, and his skin had taken on an unusual pallor.

"Gale?" Astarion leaned back, studying his lover's face. "Darling, you look positively ill. And not in the alluring, consumptive way."

Gale swallowed hard. "I killed a man today."

Astarion blinked. "Well, yes. You've killed many men. And women. And various other creatures. That's rather been our way of life for some time."

"Not like this." Gale's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "In battle, yes. When necessary, yes. But I shoved him in anger after he was no longer a threat. I lost control."

The realization dawned on Astarion that this was genuinely bothering Gale. He shifted off Gale's lap and settled beside him, an inconvenient urge to comfort rising in his chest.

"Listen to me," Astarion said, taking Gale's hands in his. "That man was a monster who sold people like cattle. Who tortured Shadowheart. Who would have done worse to us if given half the chance. The world is demonstrably better without him in it."

"That doesn't change what I did."

Astarion sighed. "No, it doesn't. But consider this—I've killed in cold blood. In anger. For survival. For pleasure, even. And you still love me, don't you?"

"That's different—"

"Why? Because you hold yourself to some absurd standard of moral purity? You're allowed to make mistakes, Gale. Particularly when those mistakes result in the demise of slavers and rapists."

A hint of color returned to Gale's cheeks. "I suppose when you put it that way—"

Astarion leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing Gale's ear. "Now, about that makeout session I was proposing..."

The door swung open with a bang.

"What in the Nine Hells are you doing in my house?" Jaheira stood in the doorway, looking exhausted and furious.

Astarion sprang back, adopting his most innocent expression. "Jaheira! We were just... waiting for you."

His excuse died in his throat as he noticed the people filing in behind her. At least a dozen of them, wearing ragged clothes, many with visible bruises or injuries. They looked hollow-eyed and frightened, flinching at sudden movements. None wore the distinctive armor or carried the confident bearing of Harpers.

Shit. These weren't Jaheira's companions. These were Bormul's victims.

"Close your mouth, vampling. You'll catch flies," Jaheira said, moving aside to let more people enter. "We've had quite the night, as you can see."

Astarion quickly slipped off the couch and stepped back as Jaheira's cottage filled with people—far too many for the tiny space. Their eyes were downcast, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around themselves defensively. Astarion recognized the posture intimately.

A tall half-elf Harper pushed past, supporting a limping woman. "Basement access is behind that bookshelf, yes?" he asked Jaheira.

"Yes. Move the green volume on the third shelf from the right," Jaheira replied, already helping a young man with a bloodied face toward the hidden door.

Astarion pressed himself against the wall as more people filed in. There was something profoundly uncomfortable about being surrounded by so many traumatized victims. It felt like looking into a mirror that reflected not his face but his soul—and he didn't care for the view.

"We've freed at least forty across three locations and more are being found every hour," Jaheira explained, answering Gale's unasked question. "The raid on Bormul's main warehouse turned up far more people than we expected. They're all malnourished, many have injuries, and none have anywhere safe to go."

"Every Harper in the city is housing as many as they can," the half-elf added, returning from the basement. "We've filled three safehouses already."

Gale stepped forward. "Have you appealed to the Flaming Fist? Surely the city has resources—"

Astarion snorted loudly at the same moment Jaheira let out a derisive laugh.

"The Flaming Fist?" Jaheira scoffed. "Half of them are on Bormul's payroll."

"And the other half couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery," Astarion added.

As more people crowded into the small cottage, a thought slammed into Astarion's mind with the force of a battering ram. The realization made him groan dramatically, tilting his head back until it hit the wall with a thud.

"Oh no," he muttered, eyes closed in resignation. "No, no, no."

"What is it?" Gale asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Are you injured?" Jaheira glanced over, hands already reaching for her healing pouch.

"I'm fine. Just... having an epiphany I don't particularly want." Astarion pushed himself off the wall, straightening his collar with a sharp tug. "You two stay here. Bandage people or make tea or whatever it is you do to make yourselves feel useful."

Gale stepped toward him. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go have a... ugh... conversation." Astarion grimaced as if the word tasted foul. "A conversation I really don't want to have after the day we've had. But apparently, the universe refuses to grant me even one night of peace."

"Astarion, what are you—"

"Stay. Here." Astarion cut Gale off with a wave of his hand. "Both of you. I'll return... when I return."

Astarion stormed through the dark streets of Baldur's Gate, his movements a blur to any mortal eye. The events of the day—the assassins, the fight at Bormul's, Shadowheart's injuries, the hollow-eyed victims—churned in his mind, but at least he had one advantage. The multiple throats he had ripped open during their various confrontations had left him practically sloshing with blood. He hadn't fed this well in weeks.

With his supernatural strength at its peak, he covered ground at breathtaking speed. The city was a smear of stone and shadow as he raced through empty streets, leaping over stacked crates or sliding under merchant carts left overnight. His body hummed with stolen vitality, a stark contrast to the exhaustion weighing on his mind.

When he finally skidded to a halt at the top steps of Sunrise Manor, he paused to catch his breath out of habit rather than necessity. The palatial building loomed before him in the darkness, its windows like vacant eyes staring back at him.

"Alright," he muttered, straightening his bloodstained shirt. "Let's get this over with."

As if responding to his words, the massive front doors creaked open slowly, revealing the shadowy foyer within. No attendant, no spawn—just darkness welcoming him home.

Home. The word stuck in his mind like a thorn. This wasn't home. It was a prison, a monument to suffering, a place soaked in centuries of pain.

And yet...

Astarion walked through the doors and directly into the center of the entry hall. Without ceremony, he sat down cross-legged on the wooden floor, his back straight but his shoulders slumped with resignation.

"Well," he said to the empty air, feeling equal parts ridiculous and determined. "Here I am."

He waited a moment, watching as the chandelier above him flickered once, then twice, in the pattern they had established earlier. A confirmation. An acknowledgment.

"Ok, so it's time for a little convo." Astarion tilted his head back, addressing the ceiling as if the house had a face. "You here?"

A single flicker of light. Yes.

Astarion let out a soft laugh, empty of humor. "Of course you're here. Where else would you be?"

Astarion took a deep, unnecessary breath.

"Listen. I know what you want," he said to the empty air. "You want me here. You want me to... what? Move in? Play lord of the manor? Spend my days issuing commands and my nights stalking these halls like some tragic Barovian ghost story?"

The lights dimmed slightly, then brightened.

"I'll take that as confirmation." Astarion tapped his fingers against his knee. "Well, I'm afraid that's simply not going to happen."

The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, a chill breeze rustling his hair.

"Oh, stop that. Throwing a tantrum won't change anything." He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. "Look, I understand loneliness. Two hundred years as Cazador's puppet gave me an intimate education in isolation. But I can't be what you want."

The floor beneath him creaked, and somewhere in the distance, a door slammed.

"You're angry. Fine. Be angry." Astarion's voice hardened. "But consider this—as long as I own you and I'm here, I could compel you. I haven't, and I won't, but the possibility remains. That power would always hang between us."

The chandelier swayed slightly, its crystals tinkling.

"I know you've only had masters who controlled you. Cazador was..." Astarion swallowed hard. "He made both of us into things that served him. Objects. Possessions. And I refuse to continue that cycle."

A single, soft blink from the lights above.

"What you need isn't me living here. What you need is freedom." Astarion stood, pacing a slow circle. "You need an owner who is absent. Someone who holds the title but leaves you to your own devices. Someone who allows you to choose what you want to be and who you welcome inside your walls."

The house seemed to be listening intently now; the air felt charged with attention.

"I have an idea, actually. A proposition." Astarion stopped pacing and faced the grand staircase. "There are people Jaheira is trying to house - people freed from Bormul's operation. They need somewhere to recover. Somewhere safe."

A door creaked open cautiously somewhere.

"Yes, exactly. You could be a sanctuary instead of a prison. A place of healing rather than torture." Astarion gestured expansively. "I would remain the owner on paper, but I'd stay away, allowing you autonomy to decide how to arrange yourself, who to welcome, who to keep out."

The house seemed to consider this, various noises—creaking floorboards, tapping pipes, rustling curtains—filling the silence.

"I know it's not what you had in mind," Astarion continued, his voice softening. "But consider the alternative. Me, living here, drowning in memories of Cazador every waking moment, growing to resent you more with each passing day." He let out a bitter laugh. "I may not need to breathe, but I would suffocate here."

The chandelier's light pulsed, almost thoughtfully, and Astarion felt a strange sensation—as if the house was not just responding but actively communicating. The walls seemed to breathe around him, expanding and contracting in a rhythm that matched his own unnecessary breathing.

"You understand, don't you?" Astarion said, his voice echoing in the empty foyer. "We're both puppets who had our strings cut. And how can either of us be free if I pick up your strings and hold them, even loosely?"

The light dimmed once more, then brightened in agreement.

"Freedom under the guillotine is no freedom at all," Astarion mused aloud. "Better to be genuinely free, even if it's terrifying. And believe me, I know how terrifying it is—not knowing who you are outside of what you've been told to be." He ran a hand through his silver hair. "All I knew when I escaped Cazador was that I wasn't his. But that's just a negative space—knowing what you're not doesn't tell you what you are."

The floor beneath his feet warmed slightly, as if in understanding.

"But it can be done. I'm... still figuring it out myself. Having a purpose helps. Gale helps." Astarion smiled despite himself. "Perhaps helping these people could be your purpose."

The chandelier lights blinked rapidly—yes, yes, yes—and then something unexpected happened. The grand staircase began to transform before Astarion's eyes. The ornate, imposing steps widened, becoming less steep. The garish red carpet shifted to a muted blue, and handrails materialized on both sides.

Astarion's brows shot up. "What are you—"

Before he could finish, doorways around the foyer began to change. They widened, their thresholds lowering to eliminate steps.

Understanding dawned on Astarion. "You're making yourself... accessible? For the injured?"

A single, bright flash. Yes.

But the house wasn't finished. The space continued to shift, and a portion of the wall to Astarion's right began to change. The intricate carving of a hunting scene—Cazador's favorite—melted away, replaced by smooth plaster. Then, words began to appear, etched into the surface as if by an invisible hand:

"SUNRISE MANOR"

"SANCTUARY • REHABILITATION • NEW BEGINNINGS"

And beneath it, in smaller letters:

"Under the protection of Lord Astarion Daybreak"

Astarion's jaw dropped. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

The house responded with a pleased creaking of floorboards.

"Look at you, with opinions and ideas!" A slow grin spread across Astarion's face. "I like it. It has a certain... transformative quality, doesn't it?"

The lights in the chandelier fluttered again, drawing Astarion's attention upward. What started as a simple pattern quickly evolved into a complex series of flashes—long, short, rapid bursts that seemed almost frantic with excitement.

"Slow down," Astarion said, frowning. "I can't understand when you—"

Astarion listened and watched as doors opened and closed, lights flashed, and the house's meaning settled into his mind.

Astarion's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

Another flash. The house was entirely serious.

"That's..." Astarion ran a hand through his hair, genuinely taken aback. "That wasn't at all what I expected you to want."

The chandelier in the dining room flickered impatiently.

"I'm not objecting," Astarion said quickly. "Just... surprised is all."

He paced the room, considering the request. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as the full implications dawned on him.

"You know what? I rather like this idea." He chuckled, the sound bouncing off the walls.

The house creaked in what seemed like agreement.

"Oh, the look on her face will be absolutely priceless." Astarion clapped his hands together. "I can hardly wait."

He glanced around the room once more, nodding decisively. "Very well. I accept your terms. Consider it done—I'll be back soon enough, and all shall be as you wish."

Astarion gave a theatrical bow to the empty air. "You're proving to be much more interesting than I anticipated. We might get along after all."

As he turned to leave, the front doors swung open for him without a touch, and the crystal chandelier's light followed him like a spotlight until he descended the steps outside.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #gale of Waterdeep #bloodweave #myfic

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silverv0id · 4 months ago

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A linear regression. Once, on firmer grounds, Lin heard their mentor exclaim. It's mathematical signifcance no longer carried much meaning, yet the phrase kept following Lin. It described another trajectory, one parallel to the mathematics they were visualising. It was, however, much more conclusive.

Perched atop their favourite spot, overlooking the lower city and the docks, Lin stared at the lazy smoke that rose from crooked metal pipes and crumbling stone chimneys.

For some people, Sèvrein not only took what it gave but demanded tribute. In Lin's case this was absolute. They were an abomination. A rich educated pupil who chose artistry over pragmatism. Who spoke fowl against their family and patrons. Perhaps the worst crime Lin had on their conscience was to be so utterly replacable. How can average survive in a city of genius? Sevedan was a last name that could be earned, it could also be lost.

Death took three days. On the first, the docks bloomed in an orange kind of fury. A bright family was torn that day. On the second, the bright star revealed itself a meteor with its journey completed. A once warm and affectionate expression turned cold and still. The third was mainly a ceremony. Kneeling at gates now locked, appealing to deaf ears, and howling at open windows confirmed the completion of the process.

Lin Sevedan was dead. Murdered by the house, by the mentor, at the hands of the institute but most importantly by sheer mundanity. Reborn was Lin the no name. A Lin with no talents, no crafts, no contacts and no house. No past and no future, they stood frozen and adrift. Grand dreams of bestowing kindness upon the poor, Lin now dreamed in reverse.

Alone atop that roof, Lin watched as clouds passed lazily by. There was a kind of security, knowing one had nothing more to carry.

#Day dreaming #I should probably invent a tag for these stories

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darkheartedprince · 8 months ago

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♒ Thoughts on the fandom you're currently rping in? ✮ Have you managed to stay away from drama? ✿ What do you think about public call out posts?

MUNDAY MEME

Dang , Silas , you really wanted me to come for blood with this one , huh ? Okay , we'll start simple . Thoughts on the fandom I'm currently in . I'd call Kingdom Hearts my home away from home {my home fandoms actually being Harry Potter and Once Upon A Time since as far back as 2012}. I found this fandom sort of by accident , in a great way , because of @lightheartedwarrior {thank you, Rissa}, and have not ever looked back since . This fandom has made me laugh , made me cry , and I have had the absolute pleasure of making some of the most amazing friends I will never forget {psst Silas , you are included in this}. This fandom has gotten me through some really tough times , and not get sappy , but I don't know what I would have done without it .

This got really long , which is why it's under a read more . Long story short , I will say that I have been pretty fortunate to say that this fandom has been fairly nice to me . I am blessed to have made the friends that I have made , and to have had the wonderful experiences that I have had . I also know I'm blocked by some people for who I write with or for some things I write . While it hurts to know I can't interact with those people ever {some who blocked me prior to us ever interacting or talking}, I have accepted it was not meant to be . I deeply appreciate those who I have found in my little corner with my little light Riku and who have made my time in the Kingdom Hearts fandom a dream come true . You all are delightful angels and I am so glad to have met you <3

Okay, squishy time has ended . This is a salty munday meme , after all . I also know that this fandom is . . . um . . . I guess there's no beating around the bush here , it's cliquey . Not following people because they don't like their icons , not following people because they don't like that they don't format , not following people because you might like their writing but hate one specific headcanon they have , etc . I've seen a few people say that it kind of reminds them of high school and I don't blame that comparison on anyone . I understand avoiding people for ships you don't like , but going as far as to spread hate about people for it is not okay . At all . We're all adults . Just unfollow someone or block them and move on . No need to run to your group of friends , say a bunch of misinformation about them , and then cause things to happen . It's not worth anyone's heartache . As a community that is centered around a video game about accepting people's differences and making friends , we really need to get better at it .

No two people write a muse the same way , and no one is 100% canon to a T . So , we all need to be more accepting of various portrayals . On the note of ships , this fandom has some strong opinions about them . Like . . . really strong . Don't get me started on the SoKai vs SoRiku vs SoRiKai thing . We need to chill with that . Not everyone's ships are everyone's cup of tea and that is more than okay . Also , no one can agree on what age any of the main characters are {you can try to argue with me on this , but I have written with 16 Soras over the last four years and maybe three have the same age}. If you make them 18 then they're 'too old' but if you make them 16 - 17 then they're 'too young' . Pick a lane . For everything {not just ships} we can all accept one another's differences and move on . No harm , no fowl .

I have [ [ m o s t l y ] ] managed to stay away from drama . In this fandom , anyway , I have . Perhaps it's because I'm shy and don't talk to many people . Probably that . Am I [ [ a w a r e ] ] of the drama that has happened around me ? Of course . I pay attention . This fandom is big , and yet so small , at the same time . Every fandom is , really . On that note , I'm going to lump the last two questions together . Public call out posts . . . I don't usually agree with . Mostly because they always seem to be a lot of he - said - she - said , and that's very , back to my second paragraph , high school . Now ! If there is a behavior that has been done by one person who has been proven to be toxic time and time again and hurt multiple people time and time again , then that is a different story . Especially if someone claims to have 'changed' only to repeat that same behavior . You can change the cookie but you can't change the filling . I have seen call out posts about people like this . I will say , the ones I have seen have been thorough , with multiple pieces of evidence to back up their reasons , etc . That being said though , as a whole , I don't tend to agree with them ,

#x. b o t t l e d l e t t e r s | a n s w e r e d #x. s h a d o w s s p e a k | m u n a n s w e r e d

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hayleytalks · 1 year ago

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A warm goodbye to earth

word count: 558 (teeny thing :/)

I don't really know what else to say :/ This is an original thingy I wrote late at night 'cause I'm sick and can't sleep... If you have anything to ask, request, say or advise just click on "hey! wanna chat?" beacuse I can't turn on my comments lol Btw mitski and/or radiohead are recommended

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I stood there, I felt numb, I felt anaesthetised, I felt pain, but not the kind of pain you feel when you scrape your knee, or when you cut yourself with paper, not even the kind of pain you feel you feel when you see the lifeless body of someone you love more than breathing; but the kind of pain you feel remembering it, remembering how much simpler it was when a scraped knee hurt, the pain you feel when you feel when you realise you’ll never get anywhere you want, the pain of learning the world can be a horrible place, the one you feel when all the goodness on earth can easily be overshadowed and taken away by the bad, the dirty, the cruel, the fowl, the real.

Before me stood humanity, or what once could have been, now only existing in my own mind. If you gazed upon it, you would notice there was not one single thing you could name. Like a dantesque dream, all I could see or feel around me was the burning souls of the damned, there was no screaming, but I could feel it, no ambulance noises, but I could imagine it, no shooting guns, but I could hope; the only sound I could hear, I would notice, was quiet the crackling of fire above dead silence. The sound almost comforting, almost familiar, almost inviting. But not quite.

My surroundings became warmer and warmer as the flames of an inferno that could more accurately be considered salvation closed in. But I could not feel it. I could only mourn the life I dreamed so feverishly of. I knew I could not have it. Any of it. But it felt almost good to blame it on my current situation. My eyes danced aimlessly over the grotesque painting of agony the world had turned. It was useless, what wasn’t fused to the background was absolutely unrecognisable. Until, that is, they landed on something small, about, perhaps two metres from me; a doll.

The action of getting closer to it was completely involuntary, background to the melancholic feeling of mourning something that never could have been. But the halt was nothing but of instinct, an indescribable feeling that tied my tonsils and punched my stomach, brought tears to my eyes. My eyes deceived me. Before me stood not a doll, but what once could have been a small child. Consumed by that feeling, my surroundings blurred (or maybe it was the copious amounts of smoke that consumed every atom of oxygen that its tentacles could reach). And an immense feeling of guilt washed over me, ever so strong as the selfish thoughts surreptitiously tried to take over.

It was selfish. I was selfish. I was seventeen.

I felt anaesthetised, but I felt alone, I felt like a child lost in the supermarket. And there was nothing I could do but curl my arms around my torso as I cried up to the sky and called for my mum. The sky was empty, but so was I. And screaming, searching for my mother, much like I came into this world, I felt the flames consume me from inside out; starting by poisely luring the oxygen out of my lungs and hugging my goodbye before laying me down to sleep.

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#i don't really know what i'm doing #but whatever #original work #short story #short fiction #end of the world #writting prompt #creative writing

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casspurrjoybell-32 · 1 year ago

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*Warning Adult Content*

A SLIP OF TONGUE - Chapter 6

Alek

After the talk we had Ahote stopped avoiding me, he would stick around when I would approach him, all to the dismay of his brother.

I did, however, notice he was a lot quieter, he was shy.

I had gotten better at being around him too, I tried not to stare for too long or come off too strong.

Him admitting he was a little afraid of me still had me conflicted.

A deep sigh left my lips as I shook my head and rolled to the side on my bed, I've been here for a while now, hings here seemed to repeat themselves on loop.

Breakfast, garden, lunch, playtime with the children, dinner.

Well, that was Ahote's schedule and I still followed him around like a baby fowl as the hunters left without me on their scheduled visit to the city.

When I asked one of them told me that they couldn't get me to wake up and that they just had to leave.

I believed him but after a few more days of hearing the same thing after every hunting trip.

I had my own reasons to feel Lupa was behind it, he was their leader after all and had the authority to 'shadow ban' me.

I tossed around in bed some more before deciding to sit up, my mouth was dry and the lights peeping through the beaded curtains was starting to affect me.

It was around three in the afternoon now, I'd taken a nap or tried to take one, I was just too restless and the kids were being noisy.

I could hear running feet from the corridor and the screams and laughter that accompanied them, I wondered what they were doing, chasing each other perhaps?

I got up when the sounds became louder and one of the yelling voices was replaced by that of an adult.

Brushing my hair with my fingers I walked over to my door, unlocking it before I looked out into the hallway, a child ran into the view, pausing when they realized that I was staring at them.

"Elan?" I asked, squinting into the hallway and the child blinked at me before biting his bottom lip.

He took a step back, then forward, he seemed confused as if trying to decide if he should take his chances and walk over to me or turn and run back towards whatever was after him.

"Elan."

The little one made up his mind immediately the female voice rang through the hall again, he ran towards me, stunning me so much that I didn't even know when he disappeared under me and ran into my bedroom.

The voice kept calling his name but it faded away soon, I looked into my room to find the boy hiding under my covers.

A small smile graced my face before I closed the door and walked over to my bed, I sat at the edge, looking down at the small bump under the blanket.

"Elan?" my voice was soft as I reached out to pull the blanket away from his face, his head of dark hair popped out and his brown eyes stared into blue ones.

We looked at each other for a while before I let out a laugh and shook my head.

Elan was very quiet and wouldn't talk unless he assessed that he absolutely had to, a bit like Ahote I suppose.

"Look."

Elan sat up on my bed when I turned on my cell-phone and looked for a game, it was an alphabet game, I just had to change the language to English.

It was something I had on my phone because of the kids back home.

Phones weren't something most werewolves living in secluded packs were in need of, it was mostly just a few landlines and a couple of high-ranking wolves that had cell phones.

Kids would come up to us for phones, downloading all sorts of games to play, my heart sank at the thought, only snapping back to reality when I noticed Elan was tugging at my phone.

I gave it to him, giving in a small smile as I watched him press the screen and repeat the things the game said.

I feel the number of children and families around me back in Siberia was one of the reasons I was pushed to leave, looking at them just reminded me that I didn't have a mate and would never have a family of my own.

Imagine having to give hunters a leave from work to attend to their wives, husbands and family, most hunting parties during holiday periods were scanty, the wolves few in number and young.

It wasn't as depressing when I was in my twenties but when I hit thirty I just felt old and out of place with the younger wolves that were left behind when the ones with families took time off.

All my friends were getting married, dealing with kids,I stuck out like a sore thumb and it had hurt.

"Gosh, Elan I've been looking for you... stop coming..."

I looked up at the sound of the person that had just abruptly stopped talking, Ahote was at the door staring at us with wide eyes.

He looked boyish in his work clothes, loose pants and a big shirt that showed off how lean he was.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but he closed it again, deciding against it.

"You were supposed to be having a siesta," he said, looking away from me to focus on his child.

Elan was sitting on my bed, red-faced as he held my cell-phone on his lap with a tight grip.

"Sorry," it was one of the few times I've heard the cub say anything.

Most times he would just stay quiet and cling to his father or Len, the child looked like he was on the brink of tears but that didn't soften Ahote's look at all.

"He was with me," I said, making the two of them look at me with similar expressions.

"I gave him my cell-phone and he lost track of time," I said, looking over at Ahote with a smile.

The man's expression softened before he looked back at his confused son and with a sigh, he shook his head, letting the free strands fly back to expose the braided chunks he had underneath them.

"It's time for supper," he said as he approached the bed before picking his son up.

My cell-phone fell to the bed with a small thump and I picked it up, putting it away.

"Are you coming?" he asked me as he cradled his child in his arms and I smiled, nodding my head.

We left the room together and walked side by side in silence for a while.

Ahote dropped Elan on his feet when we came to the end of the hallway and I watched the kid run over to Len who was waiting for him.

The teenager looked over at me and then at Ahote, I couldn't read his expression properly but he seemed both jealous and suspicious.

He hesitated to leave but he eventually did, leaving Ahote and I in the small room that connected all the hallways.

It was also a little prayer room, with ornaments of the Moon Goddess decorating the red brick walls and elevated shelves, there were also rolled mats piled at the corner.

I didn't know what those were for until I saw someone with their heads bowed down sitting on it as incense burned from a small plate.

"How did you know Elan was going to be in my room?" I asked, piercing the silence with my question and Ahote leaned against the wall, looking straight ahead and not at me.

"That was his dad's room," he mumbled just high enough for me to pick up and it seemed like he had thought about telling me this before because his hands were shaking and he tried to hide them by pulling his sleeves over his hands.

"He doesn't know what his dad looks like but there's this lingering familiar scent even though he doesn't know what it is, you know?" Ahote said with a small chuckle but his voice seemed choked.

He looked conflicted, his brown doe eyes darting about the room as he licked his lips, it looked like he wanted to confide in someone but was unsure I should be the one.

"I just..." he started before pausing.

"I just thought I should tell you since he'll be a little annoying going to your room without no reason..." he trailed as I tucked my hands into the pockets of my trousers.

"It's fine," I said and Ahote looked over at me before looking away and sighing.

"It's not fine. I'll talk to him," he insisted looking away from me again.

I smiled, deciding not the drag it out with him, I've seen him argue with other wolves in the pack, he made it a point to always have the last word.

"You wanted to go out to town, right? I'll make sure they take you out with them next time."

"Thank you," I mumbled, edging a bit closer to Ahote.

As long as I didn't get too close, I wouldn't startle him, being so close to him and my wolf stirring and jabbing at my chest, dging a bit closer did soothe the scratching feeling in my chest.

Ahote was going on about something but I'd zoned out on his voice, my gaze focused on him as his body moved and expressions changed.

I don't remember when I reached out to grab a bit of his hair but I now had a chunk of his dark silky hair in my hand, I let go when I realized what I was doing, apologizing as I distanced myself from him.

Ahote's face was red, my face was red and I guess we both didn't know how to react since none of us made the first move to speak.

"I'm sorry..."

"I want to kiss you," my eyes went wide at Ahote's words.

Never in a million years would I have expected him to say that.

He was frowning now but he didn't seem to be angry at me but at himself, he looked conflicted with his hands folded over his chest and his gaze falling on everything but me.

"Isn't that strange since I have a mate somewhere out there?" he seemed to be asking me a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer it.

He looked away from me, pushing stray strands of his dark long hair behind his ears as he muttered something under his breath.

"Give me time," he simply said before gathering himself and walking in the direction of the kitchen, I was left in the prayer room alone and unsure of what to do.

I used the knuckles of my balled fist to rub the area on my chest that was suffering from pangs due to my unstable heartbeat.

'What was that?' I wondered before deciding to head to the kitchen for supper as well.

When I was done eating the first thing I did was make a beeline for the room I was staying in, I searched the drawers, under the bed, everywhere but the only things I earthed were a few clothes and some books... school books.

Honan, that was the name written across the line for it, I flipped through the book, noticing he had a nice handwriting.

'A math's book,' I thought, nothing another irrelevant thing.

I went through all the books stuffed at the top of the drawer and I was flipping through one some pictures fell out, none of them were pictures of pack members.

None of the pictures were even take in any place I could recognize from around, I could guess who Honan was by zeroing in on the person that shared the same traits with the peace river pack members, tall, lean, strong-jawed and tanned.

It seemed the people with him were classmates from college and one girl stood out in the bunch, she was in every photo, sticking close to him with a big grin.

Sometimes she had braids and sometimes she had an afro or straight hair, she was beautiful and I was starting to realize this was who Ahote's mate had left him for.

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