#rowdy raven rattles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jhoudiey · 2 years

Text

Crowley and Floyd... bonding? Oh dear. A Fic I commissioned from @raven-at-the-writing-desk about Crowley and Floyd running into each other while searching for the perfect gift for Yoru's birthday!

Rating: G

Word Count: 4450

Characters: Dire Crowley, Floyd Leech, Yoru Crowley (mentioned)

Winter had settled on Night Raven College like a thick wool blanket.

An overcast gray sky overlooked icy streets dimly lit by snow laden lamp posts. The entire campus was solemn, smothered in a deafening silence and a shower of snowflakes.

The cold season had a coy way of playing with time. It stole away the days and made the light scarce. Blink, and entire weeks may have already skipped by like feet on the frozen ground. As the seconds and the sun retreated, so, too, did the creatures that resided in the winter of Twisted Wonderland.

Seeking the warmth and the comfort of a blazing fire and full bellies, they’d stow away in their rooms and dens. Cups of warm beverages in tow as they watched the drifting bales of white falling down into the world. Nestled under safe covers, wrapped in the lullaby of a whistling, chilling wind, they’d slip into a deep slumber, dreaming of sugarplums, cocoa, and peppermint candies.

Not a creature stirred, not even a—

Mouse?

Crowley froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Ears alert and piqued.

From within the attic came a cacophony. Rattling, ruffling. Things breaking and smashing against hard surfaces. It sounded like a brawl was brewing in there—or a murder, short of bloodcurdling screams, was underway.

Whatever it was that was making that racket, it certainly was not a mouse.

Why, that shouldn’t be, the headmaster thought, his brow creasing. While it was true that his little Nugget had a tendency to get rowdy (especially in her worst of moods), he was sure that she had excused herself that day to tend to the campus crows.

The perfect moment to sneak into her room and pry away all the shining secrets and hidden wonders that had collected in her hideaway. How very kind of him to do.

Crowley pressed an arm flush against the slightly ajar door and slowly eased it open. Its hinges quietly squealed in protest—the blasted things needed a good oiling—but it was easily drowned out by something slamming, accompanies by the groans of a mysterious intruder.

The scene unfolded before him like a picture in a pop-up storybook.

The room looked like it had been ransacked, then turned upside down and back upright.

Books, clothes, and dark bedding were strewn across the floor—truthfully, nothing abnormal for his Nugget—but every drawer had been torn open, their contents flying free. Loose sheets rained down like broad white feathers, writing implements rolling across the rickety wooden floors and shredded remains of a bird’s nest. Pots had toppled over, spilling soil onto the shelf they lined.

The iced windows had been thrown open, inviting in a bitter winter breeze which kicked up all the fallen items, the forgotten pages. Despite this, the room reeked of apples. Cloying at times, tart at others, the aroma leaked from smashed bottles and unscrewed tubs. The room was wrapped in the memory of frostbitten fruits.

And there, standing in the center of it all, was the criminal in question.

One Floyd Leech, snow caught in his teal hair, a black stripe of it wet and sticking to his profile, as he pored through a notebook. He wore a bored expression, not startling one bit as his attention landed on Crowley, who stood at the threshold with a gaping jaw.

Floyd suddenly grinned, heterochromatic eyes lighting up as he let the notebook in his hands tumble to his feet. He lazily drew himself up, leaning back against a desk.

“Ne, what’re you doing here, headmaster? Shouldn’t you be off crashing classes or doing busy work or something?”

Crowley bristled at the easy tone the eel had adopted. Always too lax, too familiar. “Is it a crime to walk around in my own house?”

Floyd gave a raspy laugh. “Ehehehe, all your feathers are standing on end. You really should just chill out.”

Then, having already lost interest, he returned to digging around at the desk, carelessly flipping through another notebook. Floyd was only about halfway through when it was unceremoniously snatched out of his hands by golden talons.

“I should be the one asking the questions here!” Crowley crowed, crushing the pages of the notebook in his palm. “How are you in my home, Floyd Leech-kun?! You’re meant to be in lecture at this very moment!”

“Mm? I got bored of class, so I dipped. It was easy to climb in through the window.”

“That is NOT the issue at hand!! You cannot just break and enter a private residence whenever you please…!! Furthermore, what in the Seven makes you think it’s a dandy idea to catapult yourself into a lady’s nest and search through her belongings?!”

Floyd was completely unfazed by the scolding. “Isn’t that what you’re doing too, teach? You didn’t even knock.”

A squawk erupted out from Crowley at the accusation. He was but a bird ensnared in a predator’s trap, and Floyd knew it.

The merman’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “Barging into Fugu-chan’s room without warning ain’t exactly a good look for ya.”

“Wh-What!! You take that back…!! How dare you call my Nugget such a preposterous nickname! How dare you besmirch my magnanimous nature and my good name!”

“Dude, like ‘Nugget’ is any better–and seriously no one buys any of that stuff.” Floyd rolled his eyes, but the teasing glint never quite left them. “Wouldja rather I call her Yoru in front of you, daaad?”

Crowley’s heart caught in his throat. Flashes of both hot and cold fissured through him, pulling him in both directions. Intense anger and icy annoyance coiling at his fingertips.

Instead of making a proper rebuttal, Crowley hastily seized his student by the shoulders and steered him toward the exit. Floyd plodded along, but sent the headmaster a half amused look.

“Out, OUT!!” Crowley cried. He attempted to usher the boy through the door frame–but like the leech that he was, he hunkered down and held fast, lanky form lingering at the threshold.

“Nope, you’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

“And perhaps I would deign to entertain your silly, fickle notions of ‘fun’, were it any time but now,” Crowley countered frostily. “Tomorrow is a most important date, and I shan’t be late for it on account of you!!”

“Tomorrow?” Floyd tilted his head. “But tomorrow’s…”

There it was again: the overfamiliarity settling on his face, and a gleam to his olive and gold irises. A slight glee, a playfulness, as if regarding a loved one.

A single realization dawned in the cold quiet between the headmaster and his student. The sun rising upon a sheet of ice, and the glittering glare of snow that followed.

“My word,” Crowley gasped, drawing a shallow breath, “could it be that…”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

A trip into the local town later, the headmaster was grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear and giving himself a presumptuous pat on the back.

Hohohoh! What a brilliant brain I have! Crowley, you old diamond in the rough, you!

He lowered his head to a rack of jewelry in a display case, just as entranced by the hypnotic shine of jewels and chains as he was with himself. His smug reflection bounced back at him.

“It appears that our motives are one and the same, my dear boy! Neither of us wishes to be tardy with Nugget’s birthday gift, yes?” Crowley had cooed, wrapping an arm around Floyd’s. “What say we kill two birds with one stone and combine our efforts?

“We’ll provide a single present while counting it as one from both of us! Fufufu. That’s more money saved and the hassle of finding our own gifts avoided!”

“Ew, stop,” his student had replied, looking vaguely disgusted as he tried to wrench himself away. “You’re being weird. Did the spirit of Azul’s greed possess you for a sec or something?”

“Oh, don’t be that way!! Come along, we’ve got a plethora of shops to look over, and not a moment to waste!!”

“Eeeeeh?”

So the serendipitous story had gone, with the duo darting from shop to shop and browsing all the various wares. (Floyd, more often than not, lagged behind or got distracted by other offerings). Alas, they had yet to stumble across a good gift—but Crowley clung on to hope.

He allowed himself another pleased chuckle. Vanity illuminated his beady little eyes, as if gems had been inlaid into them, the same as the spread of jewelry before him.

“Floyd Leech-kun!” Crowley called, looking back over his shoulder, “Take a look! What do you think of these as…”

But there was no one where the eel had been just mere minutes before.

Crowley startled. He whipped his head around the store, surveying the knick knacks for teal streaked with black. The headmaster found it nestled in a corner by a stand of novelty sunglasses. With a sigh, Crowley briskly made his way over.

Floyd turned to face him, sending the headmaster jolting back with another shock to his heart.

The boy wore a garish set of frames. A simple black, but with big, bushy false eyebrows mounted at the tops of the rims, and where the glasses would normally sit on one’s natural nose was a big, bulbous, and pink triangle–a caricature of a nose. Jutting out of his mouth was a stick of peppermint candy, which he slurped with great relish.

“Took you long enough,” Floyd said, sweeping off the joke glasses and replacing them with a different pair. The new ones were a bright blue with tinted lenses, decorated with sharks in the corners of the rims. “Hey, check out what I bought! Cool, right?”

“No, it is NOT ‘cool’ for you to wander off and spend your savings left and right on personal items!” Crowley shot him an exasperated glare. “If this keeps up, you won’t have any funds leftover for Nugget’s present! You’ve been no help with cutting down on our potential options, either.”

He groaned deeply, staring down into the palms of his taloned hands. “Oooh! Are the youth of today truly so self-absorbed, selfish, and prideful? Is there no faith left to be had in their humanity? Oh, woe is me!”

Floyd snapped his peppermint stick in half. His fingers were left sugary and sticky as he popped the broken part back into his mouth. “All that melodrama’s not my problem anyway.”

“How rude…! To think that children in this day and age don’t even hold an ounce of respect for their elders…” Crowley sniffled fakely. “It’s already bad enough that you’ve completely lost all interest in searching for a gift, then reject the idea of offering aid to me… Are you the sort that would abandon the elderly in need of help crossing the road as well?!”

“Tch, you’re really getting on my nerves, Gramps.” Floyd’s expression dropped, his brows drawing together. A lilt had slipped into his voice, deep and dark and dangerous. “I’m sick of being dragged all over the place. How about you butt out of my business and try lookin’ in a mirror for once?”

“GRAMPS?!”

Crowley exclaimed the word louder than he had meant to, causing the jewelry to tremble and attracting stares from fellow customers. (A nearby woman shielded her child’s eyes and directed them to look away from “the crazy bird man”.) The headmaster blushed behind his mask, cutting a dry glance away.

A small standing mirror, propped up for customers to gaze at themselves modeling baubles, captured him in its face. His expression, a silent slice of his character.

Crowley stopped.

In spite of its size, the mirror was a beautiful one. His reflection was arced by metal which was painted in ebony black, and finished off with a dusting that granted it a pearlescent sheen and a smooth touch.

It seemed to move, telling an intricate story as Crowley’s eyes followed the curve of the frame. Amid twisting leaves and the cover of night was a murder of crows. Roosting, gorging on apples, seeking comfort in one another.

It was absolutely perfect.

Crowley picked the mirror up, careful not to scratch its surface with his sharp nails. Waving a hand, he immediately summoned a sales associate.

“This,” Crowley murmured, gingerly placing the item in their hands. Then he reached into his cloak and produced a card from within the depths of the nebulous fabric and set it on top of the mirror. “I would very much like to purchase this. Please have it wrapped up in a gift box.”

“Of course, sir.” The store employee nodded and scurried off with the mirror and the card in tow.

Floyd frowned after them as they rang Crowey up. “Eeeh, you just ended up picking something without me anyway.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have had to make the executive decision to do so if someone had been a little more cooperative.”

“I don’t get why you had me come with you at all.” Floyd furrowed his brow. Slightly frustrated. “I would’ve been okay on my own.”

“I don’t doubt it, but this was specifically meant to be a collaborative effort,” Crowley pointed out, folding his arms. “I expected better of you, young man.”

Floyd scoffed and pushed away from the wall, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”

The headmaster made no effort to stop him from exiting the store. He stared hard at the wall where Floyd had been, mouth pinched like a beak.

It had truthfully always been some degree of awkward between him and his students, but nowhere was that awkwardness made more painfully apparent than when he was forced to engage with Floyd. What was any parent to do when they were trapped with their child’s significant other? The one to steal away his beloved daughter from the nest he had so lovingly built for the two of them?

Crowley never quite knew what to do, what to say, to him. The line between educator and pupil was already difficult enough to tread, and a road that he had not yet mastered–and here he was, being thrusted into a dilemma ten times as challenging to navigate: father-in-law and boyfriend.

He was at the boundary, uncertain of when and if he should intrude at all. Too used to what he already had, and too afraid to relinquish it, letting it spread its wings and find its own way in the world.

… His Nugget was growing up so fast.

“... ir. Sir?”

Crowley tensed.

The sales associate cleared their throat, holding out a bag with satin ribbon handles. “Your purchase. Your receipt and card are inside.”

“Oh, thank you.” He dazedly accepted it.

The weight of the mirror humbled his strength and dragged his arm toward the ground. It carried with him as he shuffled to the door, swinging it open with his free arm and welcoming in a burst of wintery crisp evergreen into the shop’s otherwise spiced nutmeg interior.

There was something melancholy to be said about abandoning the cozy warmth for an unforgiving, unrelenting snowstorm and windchill. Comfort willingly traded for discomfort. A necessary sacrifice made.

Crowley expelled a breath as he crossed outside.

Something cold and hard and white shot at him. He didn’t have enough time to react before it made a harsh impact with his face, freezing his features in place.

Crowley hurriedly shook off the attack—the snowball that had pelted him—only to be met with a trill from his assailant.

“Ahahahah!! I totally nailed ya!” came Floyd’s throaty laugh. Beside him was a pile of incriminating ammo, and another snowball in his hands. The shark sunglasses bobbed on his head, as if hitching a ride on wild waves. “You shoulda kept your guard up!”

“I beg your pardon?!” Crowley wiped his face clean of stray shards of ice and bits of snow. “Our errand is complete. You will cease this tomfoolery at once and return to campus!”

Floyd’s reply was short and simple and punctuated with a shrug. “Don’t feel like it. This is waaay more fun~”

“You’d best retract your wor—”

“Oops, my hand slipped.”

It had very obviously not slipped, but Floyd pantomimed tripping anyway, letting the snowball fly from his hand. It rocketed like a shooting star tearing up the night sky, this time pelting Crowleyin the chest. The next, the back of his hand, and the third knocked off his top hat, nailing it into the slush-covered sidewalks.

The headmaster gritted his teeth and dug his heels into the ground. His arms up to shield himself from each blow. “Now see here…!!”

Floyd’s icy onslaught continued, marked by his gleeful cackling. “I’ve already got my eyes wide open. You sure you’re a crow, headmaster? Cuz all I see’s a frozen chicken too scared to fight back.”

“Grk…!”

It won’t do to retaliate against a child, reasoned Crowley’s better half.

Show him what for, hissed the other (not-as-yasashii kind) half. He’ll regret ever crossing you and showing such disrespect toward an instructor!

“Ahahah, the headmaster’s a chicken, a chicken! Bwaaaaak bwak bwak bwak bwak bwak!!”

Crowley’s patience snapped.

“That is… ENOUGH!!”

He flung his cane up. Then, all at once, every single snowball hung in the air, rigged up in invisible cages.

But the movement of his body, too fast, too swift.

The bag with the satin handle–and the mirror inside–launched into the air from that violent flick of his wrist. Time slowed to a crawl as the bag and its contents fell, fell, fell… followed by a devastatingly loud CRACK.

Realization kicked in, and Crowley dropped to his knees, not caring that his pant legs would get dirty and cold and wet. The suspended snowballs splattered onto the streets, making their own graves.

To his horror, digging through the bag yielded only a beautiful frame. The reflective face embedded within was broken beyond belief. So many ugly, jagged fragments and shining splinters shifted through his fingers. So many of him staring back in dismay.

Floyd whistled. “Guess that’s seven years of bad luck.”

“You think this is funny, do you?” Crowley’s hands balled into fists in his lap.

“Hilarious, actually.” Floyd failed to hide his smile (or rather, he made no attempt to).

“Have yourself a grand old time, then.”

The headmaster abruptly stood, tossing the remains of the mirror shards at his feet. His usual whimsy and jovial tone was nowhere in sight as he coolly straightened his lapels and brushed the snow from his feathers. The grip tightening on his walking stick. “We shall see who gets the last laugh.”

“Is that a challenge?” Curiosity had crept into Floyd’s voice, his lazy eyes lifting into slivers of intrigue.

“I would never consider using offensive magic against a precious student of mine!! I’m offended that you would even suggest such a thing,” Crowley insisted, placing a hand over his heart, and an appalled gasp from his lips. “But should a student refuse to step back into the classroom, and instead choose to remain off campus…”

Fwoosh.

Crowley raised his cane up in an elegant arc. The shoveled snow surrounding them sparkled, charged with the faint navy glow of his magic. Bit by bit, the snow floated upward, collecting at a singular meeting point in the sky. Gathering into a massive, monstrous beast of a snowball that titaned over them.

Floyd went slack-jawed.

The snowball casted a shadow over Crowley’s sunny smile.

“… I will have no choice but to shepherd them back to school with the appropriate disciplinary measures,” he chirped, “for I am so very kind.”

The bewilderment seemed to last for mere seconds Floyd’s features before he vigorously shook it off. Sparks flew, turning embers into a raging fire, a burning passion, within him.

“Heh. Now you’re speaking my language!!”

Crowley held his student’s—no, his opponent’s—gaze.

“Ne, headmaster. You and me, let’s have a fight.” Floyd cracked his knuckles, his face gleaming with delight. “Let’s see who wins.”

“You’re a hundred years too early to be making that sort of demand,” he huffed, not breaking eye contact, “but, as an esteemed educator, it falls upon me to teach you the natural order of this world.

Crowley let the snowball drop, and the world exploded into a vision of pure white.

When the veil lifted, Floyd was gone.

Another disappearing act for the slippery eel.

Crowley narrowed his eyes, scanning his surroundings in search for the boy. His ears strained, hearing heightened. A soft, scuffed sound emanated from above.

He craned his head, his gaze tilting skyward.

Gold.

Black.

Teal.

Floyd was on top of the gift store. Had he scuttled up a drain pipe like a primate? Used something as leverage to rocket up there?

Crowley gritted his teeth.

“Get down here this instant!!” he shouted, shaking a fist at the young man.

“Make me!!”

“Oh, I will…! You have my word on that!”

“Oh-kaaaay~ Catch me if you can!”

And with that, Floyd took off like a bullet. Crowley nestled deeper into the recesses of his cloak and followed in hot pursuit. His cape fluttered behind him as though he were some sort of superhero—but Crowley felt less than super in the mindless goose chase.

Floyd had the advantage in terms of speed, with his lanky, lithe body. Up above, he had a good view of the town, and the crow that trailed him.

Conjured snowball after conjured snowball aimed themselves at their moving target, intent on knocking Floyd off balance, and onto his ass. Yet the eel expertly skipped across the rooftops and slid to pick up speed. The windchill, a sharpened knife against his cheeks.

From one to the next, he raced and raced until he was at the end of a row of buildings, met with a dead end, a large pile of shoveled snow.

Crowley skidded to a halt, both mortified and out of breath. His breath crystallized with each painful inhale and exhale.

Floyd gave him a knowing grin. Flung his arms out, staring down the like of rooftops he had traversed. The wind at his back.

Crowley lurched forward.

“Don’t—”

Floyd fell backwards with a crazed cackle.

The headmaster dove, arms outstretched. His arms connected, hooking with Floyd’s heavy body as it crashed down.

They were both tackled by gravity and sent tumbling into the snow. The one caught, Floyd, easily rolled off of his savior, shark sunglasses flying off him and into the slushy streets. The catcher, Crowley, sprawled out on his back with a choked gasp. (His vigor was NOT what it used to be.)

His gaze tilted skyward, staring up at a gray film of sleet and snow. Prim and unassuming, the color of something slow and steady.

The snowflakes that drifted onto his skin melted like wax exposed to a too-close sun. His heart was pumping hard, his blood buzzing, from the chase. His insides burned, tingling from exhaustion.

Exhilarating.

Simply exhilarating.

When was the last time he had felt so alive? When had he had this much fun? He couldn’t recall.

A snicker.

Crowley instinctively turned his head to the side, finding Floyd already sitting up and looking back at the imprint he had left in the snow. It was a vague outline of his body from the impact, all 191 centimeters of it.

Imperfect—but Floyd didn’t care. He belted out a laugh, relishing in the imperfection of his snow angel. Sounds and sights fracturing and reforming again in the blink of an eye.

He had nothing to his name, and yet he acted as if he had everything. A poor man, wealthy with experience and adventures.

Crowley didn’t understand.

He was at the cusp of a discovery, dazzled by its disarming gleam.

“You didn’t manage to hit me, so I win,” Floyd beamed, his heterochromatic eyes meeting Crowley’s. “Hehe. How’s it feel to lose to your own student? Must be really embarrassi—”

It suddenly clicked.

Crowley bolted up, an exclamation at his lips. “THAT’S IT!!”

“Huh? What’s it?”

The headmaster wrapped his arms around Floyd and shook him excitedly. The merman’s black stripe of hair and earring bounced erratically, his head lolling.

“Don’t you see, my dear boy? The gift, the gift!”

Floyd grimaced, shaking the crow off of him. “The broken mirror? You can’t exactly give that as a birthday present.”

“But of course not!” Crowley smiled broadly, clapping Floyd’s back. “Look in the mirror for yourself! We will not purchase the gifts, we will be the gifts themselves!!”

Floyd quirked a brow and spoke with no filter. “... Is this a weird roleplay thing? Cuz I’m so not into it.”

“No, no!!” Crowley flailed his arms, making as though to dispel whatever misconceptions were floating around in his student’s mind. “That’s completely incorrect!

“You see, I’ve been enlightened! What is important in a gift is not the amount of money spent on it, nor the amount of time spent hunting it down! It’s quality, not quantity that counts–and what could possibly be better than spending precious quality time with loved ones?”

He twirled his cane, whistling as he swept up his hat from the ground and replaced it atop his hair. “We’ll have a candlelit dinner on the eve of her birthday! It needn’t be fancy, but there will be good food, good wine, and good company to keep us warm well into the night!

“… By the way, feel free to bring a dish of your own to contribute to the meal! Think of it like a potluck!”

Floyd stared at him.

“… Aren’t you just covering up for not having enough money for a replacement gift now? You’re cheaping out on those dinner plans too, and it isn’t exactly subtle~”

“Ohohohoh…! I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean!!” Crowley’s anxious laughter didn’t help his case.

“Man, all this mushy feel-good stuff’s gross. It’s like some after-school special.” Floyd puffed out his cheeks in a pout. “I liked you better when you were throwing fists. Can we go back to that?”

“Certainly not!! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a celebratory dinner party to plan!! As for you, all you need bring is yourself for the occasion. That should be simple enough instruction for you, yes?”

“Still feels like you’re making this waaay too complicated.”

“Grkk! I won’t be condescended to by my own pupil, of all people!!”

“Whatever you say then.”

Their banter carried into the crisp winter air, set upon curtains of white, billowing breath. The words dissipated as easily as ice crystals exposed to sunlight, but the feelings in them would forever remain.

All the anger, the sorrow, and the joy of the sea and the sky, coming to understand one another just a bit more than they had before.

#dire crowley #floyd leech #twst oc #yoru crowley #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twisted wonderland #dumb and dumber #disney twisted wonderland #twisute oc #twst floyd #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst crowley #commission #nrc #nightraven college

18 notes · View notes

thatnerdwolfnell · 4 years

Note

Pocky challenge: MC x Main six

The Pocky game is a party game played withPocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pockybetween them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

^coppied from google.

Ohohoho. Yes. Thank you. I love you. This would have been done yesterday, but I was a dumb bastard and I ran out of my meds so I was busy feeling like general shit. Sidenote: me and my uni friends used to do this with gummy bears before Covid because we have no shame I guess? Idk.

Pocky game Mc and Main 6

Asra:

He loves it. Even when you kiss him regularly he still loves the thrill and challenge of the game.

He has a bit of a competitive streak so if he has to he will full on kiss you and suck the slimy ass pocky out of your mouth. (I'm sorry for that image)

When he pulls out some strawberry pocky hes already got that cheeky knifecat smirk on his face.

He rattles the box a bit specifically to draw your attention

He gets that dark heavy sparkle in his eyes as he puts the strawberry end between his lips and just looks at you, completely still.

You try to hide your smile, you love when he gets like this.

Asra has a thing for games.

You shift over on the couch enough that you can take the end of end of the pocky in your teeth.

He leans in to take another bite and steadies you with an unexpected hand sliding up from the small of your back.

you raise an eyebrow

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a grin.

he takes a deep breath and holds it as he inches closer. He somehow has nibbling the pocky within millimeters down to a practiced skill and he always holds his breath when he starts getting close. It's a focus thing and probably to keep from moving too much. You can tell he expects to win.

You lace a hand through his hair gently anchoring at the nape of his neck, and bite off most of your end

He blinks in surprise and finally lets out his breath slow enough that it catches in his throat and sends goosebumps down your spine.

His face is so warm next to yours. You can hear his heartbeat, quick and shallow in his chest.

"Gib ub yet?" You ask. There's not much left of the pocky but you know he won't stop.

He grins around the pocky.

The hand on your back slides to your waist. The other skims along your thigh and you gasp slightly.

He doesn't break eye contact. You let out a shaky breath as he nibbles just enough off to keep your lips from touching. If you moved you could easily kiss him.

He plays dirty. He likes teasing you. Waiting for your next move.

You kiss him hard and push him down onto the couch taking the whole last bit of the pocky in your mouth and crunching down.

He tilts his head back and laughs his hair falling back into his face.

"mm I think you cheated" he smirks and leans in to kiss along your jaw

"So did you." You say. You grab another pocky and smooth his hair away from his face before you push off.

Nadia:

Well Nadia isn't really one for party games but she IS one for food. (I think we have a couple different canon scenes I could use as evidence here)

She's never heard of it but she's intrigued.

It's after dinner and you're both still at the table. This isn't something she would ever do in public

"If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask...but if you'd rather earn it that can be arranged"

She takes a pocky and gently feeds the end in your mouth.

"If you drop it you'll have to earn my kisses some other way. And I'll be sure to make it a very long night."

She smiles sweetly with just a hint of a smirk and your heart skips a beat.

The way she looks at you with so much reverence, like you're one of her intricate, beautiful machines and she'll take you apart piece by piece just to understand every part.

She starts eating her end and you do the same. She somehow looks elegant with her lips pressed around the pocky and the heat of her breath condensing against the chocolate.

She pauses at the very last bit and let's you close the gap. Her lipstick tastes sweet and floral.

You deepen the kiss and run a hand along her shoulder.

She grabs you by the waist and leans you back against the table in one smooth movement without breaking the kiss.

One hand pins your wrist against the wood above your head while the other is still wrapped around your waist under your back so that it arches slightly.

"I didn't say you could do that, MC." There's amusement in her voice that draws in a low whisper.

She gently caresses down your neck stopping in the middle of your chest. "But I don't want to wait."

She kisses you and you kiss back letting your hands wander through her hair while she presses down over you.

"that's good, love. We should do this more often."

Julian:

He suggests it at the rowdy raven one night. A game he picked up in his pirate days.

"Come on, who's down for a little fun? Make the party more interesting."

Nadia rolls her eyes.

Portia immediately looks at you and pointedly tilts her head at Julian, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively.

You blush a little. You're about to volunteer to play when Lucio steps in.

"I'm up for the challenge. Give you a chance to get near my lips, hey Jules?"

If Julian is disappointed, he doesn't show it. He just grins and pulls out a pocky. "Alright that's the spirit!"

They move down the pocky rather fast and it's clearly a competition. Neither hesitates before meeting in the middle. Julian pulls of with a dramatic peck before pulling away just as fast.

"Anybody else?"

"I'll go!" You take your chance a little too quickly and you see Portia smile in the corner of your eye.

Ah MC. Perfect!" He seems surprised. Maybe a little flustered.

You take a pocky in your mouth and offer him the other end.

He blushes and leans in to start chipping at the biscuit.

He smells like salt and leather. You can feel his heartbeat in his lips moving the stick.

You lean in further, resting a hand on his knee as if for balance. He stiffens but you can see his smirk grow wider.

You both hesitate at the last little piece, caught in the moment of closeness. You start to move to take it and kiss him but he pulls away before you do.

You look at him startled. He's bright red and flustered.

"Ah. um MC I- I didn't think you were going to-"

He's been doing this. Avoiding you when he knows you both want it. You've had enough of that.

"Did you want to?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Kiss me. Did you want to?"

You hold him under your gaze and his eyes soften into something like longing. Or guilt. Or hunger.

"...yes." he says it simply and quietly. Like the only true thing he can find in a single soft word.

And you kiss him. You feel him melt into the kiss and he's kissing you back.

You hold his face in your hands and he pulls you in closer.

You can feel how much he wants this. Like water in the desert. His brow is furrowed in desperation. You break away.

The hurt in his eyes is obvious and you brush his hair out of his face rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"Hey," you look him in the eyes and try to convey everything in that look. "I'm not going anywhere, you get that?"He nods.

"We can have this all the time." You say.

His eyes wander down your body. "All the time..." He repeats softly.

You kiss him again, much gentler this time. He pulls you in and you feel like THIS is how things were always supposed to be. And this is the life you want to have. With Julian and your friends, and everything right in the world.

Muriel :

He is a blushy boy. But he's been approaching things like this with curiosity, and maybe even wonder, even if it can be hard to tell.

He never refuses a touch or a kiss, and for a while you weren't sure he knew he COULD refuse.

You don't want to make him uncomfortable and you were worried he just tolerated it for your sake.

While he's been getting better, he still lacks awareness of what he wants and likes. You've been helping him figure out his boundaries after years of having them constantly violated and convincing himself that it doesn't matter.

When you told him he seemed surprised. "No, I like it, MC. I always like it." He made it clear that he would say no if he was uncomfortable, "like with cantaloupe or bananas." He said.

(Not eating foods he didn't like had been game changer. A lot of textures bother him.)

Since then he's been making more of an effort to initiate and touch has become something of communication for him.

Hand squeezes for comfort, an arm barring you from accidentally stepping in a rabbit hole, a touch on the shoulder to say "be careful", a nudge to say "look at this", a nuzzle into your neck to say "I love you"

It's just easier than talking. It's how he's always talked to Asra amd Inanna despite the telepathy.

But this is something different.

"But...why?" He asks as you take a pocky from the box. He's already blushing like crazy.

"Because it's fun." You say and you put the end in your mouth.

He frowns but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

He takes a small bite off the end and leans back chewing it curiously.

You laugh. "No, you're supposed to keep going and we hold on until we get to the middle."

"Oh." He leans back in and starts eating away at his end. He looks at you for confirmation, a look of confusion on his face.

You smile and inch closer.

He's bright red and you can feel the heat from his face and his heartbeat, strong and fast.

You both pause at the last bit, daring the other to make a move.

His green eyes are bright and sharp as they lock with yours for just a glance.

Then he closes the gap kissing you gently. Eyes closed, taking the last bit before moving away.

A hand rests on your waist and the other on your shoulder.

"Sorry, did you want the last bit?" You think he's teasing you, but the alarm in his eyes say he's completely serious.

You laugh "no, of course not. I just wanted to kiss you."

He smiles and pulls you into his arms. "I know. But I thought you still... might have wanted it." He shrugs.

He looks down at you and you feel his heart skip. "You could still taste it. ...if you wanted to that is."

What? His mouth twitches up into a slight smirk.

OH.

You kiss him for real this time. And you both end up on the floor of the hut laughing.

You kiss him again.

And he kisses you.

Again and again and again.

Portia:

Yeah she's definitely played before.

Something about the kitchen staff at the last masquerade?

Anyway the rowdy raven has gotten, well, rowdy.

Julian brought the pocky and there's enough overly competitive people in the room that there's been a few kisses.

Portia grabs the box from brother and shakes it teasingly in your direction.

"MC!" She winks. "How about it?"

Her face is flushed from Mazelinka's sangria that she snuck in (which you're pretty sure is actually just pure liquor) but Portia can hold her drink despite going red rather quickly.

You grin. "If you think you're up for it."

You get up and sit down next to her and move a piece of hair off her shoulder, resting your hand there longer than you need to.

She's beautiful when she's smiling like this, having fun.

You can't help a bit of a smile when she leans into your hand slightly while she takes out a pocky.

While you're distracted, she suddenly pokes the end into your mouth making you jump back in surprise.

"Mm hey!"

She just laughs leaning back in the booth letting her giggles fade with a snort.

"Don't drop it!" She says between laughs.

"I'b not!" The pocky is still hanging from your mouth and you wiggle it around for emphasis.

She leans forward and takes the other end in her mouth.

Her eyes sparkle and suddenly she's reaching her arms around your waist pulling you in closer

Your eyes widen and she smirks. You feel the exhale of a silent laugh on your skin.

You're so close and she's so warm. Your heart is pounding.

There isn't much left of the stick and you're not sure if–

Oh.

You didn't mean to but now your lips are together and they're warm and solid and everything seems to explode at once.

The last bit of pocky falls to the ground as you gasp.

She frowns slightly when you pull away, but she still has that self-satisfied expression.

You lean in again and lift your hand towards her face. Hesitating. Waiting for permission.

But then she gives you a look through her lashes. She glances again at your lips.

You tilt your head as you lean in and close your eyes, cradling her face in your hand and letting the other press against her waist.

She moves closer and you can feel her chest pressing against yours.

You pull her tighter and she makes a small delighted noise between a laugh and a gasp.

"Oh. I love this." You say between kisses.

She grins. "This'll be an adventure, hey?"

Lucio:

He sets the box of pocky on the table in front of you.

"You've heard of the pocky game right?"

You nod, unsure of where this is going. Normally Lucio is pretty straightforward about kissing you.

"Well how about a little wager? If you win I'll get you whatever the hell you want, a whole shopping spree of the finest jewels, clothes, whatever."

You nod again. "Alright and if you win?"

He shifts uncomfortably wringing his hands. "Well, if I win.... youhavetotakeCamiotohisvetcheckup."

You sigh. Oh god. So that's what this was about. Camio HATED the vet. That rascal of a bird would be screeching insults the whole time.

You could see why Lucio was trying to get out of it.

You love that little shit, but damn he could be annoying. He's the kind of bird that will hold a grudge for about a week, and he does not take vet trips lightly.

"Please?" Says Lucio, "and if we meet in the middle we go together."

"You realize that I could just say no and make you do it yourself, right?"

"But you're not going to because I'm your boyfriend and you love me?"

You frown.

"Okay but then you wouldn't get to kiss me. Plus Camio likes you more, he'll be nicer with you there."

You pause considering. It WOULD be good to have a buffer instead of leaving the poor vet with Camio and Lucio by themselves.

"Fine, but ONLY if you win, remember?"

"YES!" he eagerly grabs a pocky and sticks one end in his mouth.

You take the other end and start chewing as fast as you can.

He takes a moment to get his bearings and catch up but once he does you're both at the very end right before the middle.

Neither of you want to move, both trying to avoid the task.

You try to get him to back down by inching a little closer, but he stays put.

He moves the tiniest bit.

And then you kiss.

fuck.

"YES!" He shouts, jumping back in triumph.

"You have to come too, still." You say.

Yeah but i won't mind if you're there."

You sigh and lean back.

"Oh come on don't look like that. We'll do a half shopping spree. That seems more fair anyway. I get half a win, you get half a win."

You laugh. "Alright, alright. Where is that stupid bird anyway?"

201 notes · View notes

kat0v01 · 4 years

Text

Musician Male MC teaching the Main 6 about French Electro swing

Thank you @rattiepax for the request!

Asra:

Asra came home one day to the sounds of a warm, melodious voice ringing from the kitchen. They sat nearby, eyes closed and smiling while listening to the unfamiliar, but pleasant words and notes. As a French electro swing musician, you explained the genre and different instruments you played, but when Asra attended one of your first performances, they got the full picture. They often came see you perform at the local theater and always ended up dancing in the aisles with the other patrons. When you finished, Asra clapped and complimented your singing, asking you questions about the language you’re speaking. You offered to teach them French and Asra, who had an affinity for learning, jumped at the idea of you teaching them something. Over the next few weeks, with your instruction, Asra was conversational, practicing on you and Faust daily. They likened it to their own magical studies and find the language beautiful and very romantic. They gave you a compliment about your teaching skills and coyly admitted they enjoyed being your apprentice and wouldn’t mind you teaching again. Unfortunately for you, Asra used every opportunity they could to surprise you with whispers of little lovely French phrases in your ear. You’d always embarrassedly smile and accept all the compliments.

Julian:

Julian woke up from a nap with a smile on his face, the notes from your singing rousing him gently. He padded downstairs to see you lounging on the couch with a book, your fingers tapping the cover in a rhythmic beat. He asked if your singing in French, remembering an impromptu performance you gave at the Rowdy Raven one night. You said it was and Julian shyly asked if you could teach him sometime. Being such a worldly traveler, he had encountered many languages and loved learning new ones. When you agreed, he happily promised to teach you one he picked up on his travels in exchange. Julian learned French very quickly and one day asked about the instruments you played. You explained the genre French electro swing to him as well as your preferred instruments, piano and saxophone. The piano piqued Julian’s interest and you considered his long fingers and dexterity from his profession would make him a natural. It was a little difficult at first, but as you expected, he picked it up incredibly quickly and could play along to your saxophone. Together, you performed evening concerts at the local theater a few times a week.

Muriel:

The cool, upbeat tunes floating from the hut gave the normally stoic Muriel a jaunty and rhythmic beat to finish his chores. He wasn’t familiar with the music, but the notes put a smile on his face. You had explained to him that you were a musician and specifically liked the genre French electro swing. Not that he knew exactly what that meant, but when you asked if you could practice playing inside the hut, he had no objections. He knew you were practicing and now that he had finished his chores, he was also curious about the music. Walking inside, he saw you playing the saxophone with Inanna curled at your feet. You stopped when you heard him come in and as he blushed, asked if he was okay. He explained he was fine, shyly apologizing for interrupting and asked if you could tell him about the instrument you’re playing. You tell him about it and then offer to teach him. He’s a little hesitant at first, but with your coaxing, he agreed. Surprisingly, he took to the sax easily. Very good breath control from his daily tasks around the hut made him a good fit for this instrument. He was always shy when he practiced over the next few weeks, but kept going with your encouragement, embarrassed and red-faced.

Nadia:

One afternoon, Nadia was drawn by a gentle melody echoing from somewhere in the palace. It was a piano; an instrument she knew you were fond of playing. As a musician who often gave performances for palace events, she insisted on keeping it at the palace along with other instruments you played. She was even willing to organize guards to deliver your instruments for you whenever you needed them for a performance. Following the sound, she emerged at an open aired foyer. A small group of servants had gathered to listen to you play, but all scattered abruptly to return to their duties when Nadia joined. She clapped when you were done and remarked how it sounded like a Prakran instrument from her home. You invited her to sit next to you. Striking a few keys, you gestured for her to repeat. She repeated your tune saying it was very similar to that instrument from home, but the sound was different, and she liked it more. The two of you spent the next hour playing Vesuvian, Prakran and made up melodies back and forth. Even though she was having so much fun, Nadia had to return to her duties, but she promised to arrange dates to continue practicing with you.

Portia:

Portia had come down to the shop one evening for a visit. You had been talking for a couple of hours and eventually it led to you singing a quiet song in French with Portia sitting next to you, listening intently. When you were done, Portia gave you several compliments and asked about the language you were speaking. You explained that it was French and as a musician, you played a few instruments as well. As you rattled off a couple of instrument names, her eyes lighted and she asked about the saxophone. You explained a bit about it and told her you could show her how to play it. She excitedly agreed and you retrieved the instrument. The both of you moved to sit on the roof, your favorite spot. Listening quietly, you picked up the soft notes of a popular Vesuvian song carried on the wind from the Rowdy Raven nearby. You gave Portia the saxophone and instructed her how to play it. You positioned her fingers on the right keys and after a few tries, she played a short part of the melody. You clapped happily as she took short bows and laughed. She asked to try it again and you spent another couple of hours instructing her and singing along.

Lucio:

One evening, Lucio went to find his dogs, missing their company from the early afternoon. Originally, he was looking for you, but you always had a habit of eluding him and he often gave up trying to find you. He stopped looking when he heard the smooth tones of the saxophone. He hurried in the direction of the sounds and came upon the most adorable scene. You were standing by the window down one hallway as Mercedes and Melchior sat at full attention with their tails wagging. He walked up to you, smiling and gave his dogs pats on the head. Lucio had attended many of your concerts both at the palace and the local theater. He was always proud and impressed at your skill. When you finished, he clapped and cheered as the dogs barked energetically. He asked if it would be alright if he could try too. As much as he was curious about how this instrument worked, he was more excited about doing things with you. With some instruction, he started to get the hang of it, and to his surprise, you joined his playing with your own vocals and French lyrics. You both end your impromptu performance to the happy pants and barks from the two dogs. Lucio was so thrilled that he asked you to teach him more as well as for you to perform with him at the next palace event. You told him you both should practice more before then with a chuckle but agreed to his request.

#the arcana #The Arcana Game #the arcane game #the arcana headcanons #arcana asra #arcana julian #arcana muriel #arcana portia #arcana nadia #arcana lucio #arcana scenarios

27 notes · View notes

madllamamomma · 4 years

Text

Journey Back to the South Part 9~

[Kinda SWF, no real smut. Sorry guys. But it’s coming!]

The Illuminator~

With your feet dangling off the ground, Muriel’s lips are pressed against yours in front of the entire tribe to see.

He never. Ever. Kisses you in front of people. He may have done it once or twice, a little quick shy peck on the cheek or forehead—But nothing like this. This is an intense loving kiss that leaves you breathless and can’t resist kissing him back. It takes you completely off guard. The crowd around you both is going completely wild with cheers, wild trills, and vocables. Yet, he doesn’t seem to even be fazed by it. What the fuck is going on?! As soon as you both part for air, your faces are completely red and hot.

The corners of your mouth twitch up onto a startled smile. “Wh…. what was that for—”

Muriel for some reason looks so strangely happy, not seeming to realize what he had done. “I… Don’t….. You’re just…. You—Y— You’re a phoenix.”

You flutter your eyes unsure what to do or say. “Yeah… a-apparently so. What does that have to do with anything?”

His eyes are sparkling and he shakes his head disbelief. “You’re…. a phoenix!!”

“...I’m a phoenix!” You repeat completely confused of what is going on at the moment. Why is this such a big deal to him? Is there something I’m missing here??

“You…I- we—……The meadow…. and… the phoenix—” As poor Muriel flounders for words, it dawns on him what he had just done in front of all the Kokhuri to see, but still holds you in his arms and his body heats up even more. “—Shit—Sorry— I shouldn’t have!!”

“W—wha-...What?! Why are you sorry?!”

“I-I don’t know!!.... I just—For some reason I couldn’t stop myself…. I… moved before I could think…” He says sounding nearly panicked as he sets you back down to your feet. But still there is a new gleam in his eyes. Like he realized something amazing that he hadn’t before. You both jump a little as Una places her hands on the both of you, tears streaming down, and Muriel starts to look very concerned. “Una?.... What’s wrong? Why are you upset?” Muriel peers all around, then notices the other elders are tearing up too, even Ronin and Tad. “W-why is everyone upset?? Did I do something wrong?!”

She sniffles a little and pats his arm comfortingly. “No, no! Don’t worry. These are good tears, my boy!” She tries to blot the tears away with her sleeve, but they just keep streaming down making lines in the bright paint. Yet, she continues to smile from ear to ear. “Oh, little cub…. Your mother, Glenna… Her cast did the same thing all those years ago when we were young… Remember the first day you came here?? Berty and I told you the story of how your parents met?” She turns around pointing to the now very vibrant night sky, then glances back up at him. “... Glenna’s cast waited for Artturi, just like your cast waited for Rhemi’s!!” Una tries to stifle a sniffle as much as she can and the paint on her face starts to slightly run more. “... She wouldn’t go up without him! The great lights haven’t lit up like this since they—” Una cut herself off, and shakes her head, but still smiles. Muriel still looks very wary as she continues to sob happily and she tries to reassure him. “—Ahh!! Don’t mind this blubbering old woman, little cub! I’m sorry… I… I just never thought I’d see that sight again. None of us did!”

Muriel‘s eyes glance back up to the Aurora as it dances across the night sky, shaking his head, still very lost in all of this. “What does…. this... all mean?”

Una chuckles a bit and turns her attention toward you, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not really sure!” Gently, she holds your now, cool face in her warm hands and squishes it a little. “...But, the two of you no doubt have a special bond. A very strong bond!! It took years for mine and Berty’s cast to know one another!!”

“... How come… ours do know each other??” You ask, voice muffled by her hands as she continues to squish your face.

“... Maybe it’s because you see each other in your dreams, like how Artturi visited Glenna in her’s…. Perhaps that’s why you both know one another in your truest form—Casts can’t lie about who they truly are.” Your face is then buried in thick fur as she embraces you tightly in her arms and starts to lightly pet your hair. You can feel her heart beating rather rapidly in her chest.

Gilbert lets out a loud hearty laugh that rattles the hillside. “Whatever it is, you both have something special!” Suddenly he wraps his arms around Muriel, squeezing him in a tight bear hug, even slightly lifting him off his feet. The sudden embrace startles him for a moment, but then he somewhat relaxes. Perhaps getting used to all this affection, but his face beaming red, and still looks uncomfortable. As Gilbert lets go of Muriel, he braces his shoulders with both hands, his eyes welling with tears. “You have no idea how proud your parents would be, little cub. You are made up of the best parts of them.” He mutters to him with such bittersweet pride in his voice. “... They would have loved to have seen this. See you grow up to be such a great son.” Muriel's face looks so confused and unsure how to react to all of this, but looks a bit emotional as Gilbert says that.

Gilbert then let’s go of Muriel and immediately starts to slam his hands on his chest, sharply breathing in his mouth. He soon starts a beat and everyone quickly falls into Amrán De Mo Chroí, ‘The song of our hearts’ chant like the first day of the gathering. But this time it is not as melancholic like it was the first day. Rather the cadence is faster, and everyone's tone sounds more happy, but still very driving, energetic, and full of emotion as they chant it.

Still unsure what to do you wrap your arms around Muriel’s and he tries to hide a tear from falling. Everyone seems to be so lost in the chant, but you soon realize, not everyone is chanting. Shona’s eyes are red, watery, and filled with anger and she shooting you a sharp hateful glare. With her lips tightly pressed together, she backs away from the crowd before vanishing from your sight.

Before you know it a few people grab you by the arms and tug you toward the camp and get separated from Muriel. They are all singing a very merry tune. Somehow you find yourself by the fire, and getting roped into dance around it. Ava and Keavy are close by, but not Muriel. Keavy is quick to tug you close to dance with you, but you stop, trying to yell over the crowd, “Wait!!! I don’t know this dance!”

Keavy laughs and pulls you close by her left side so you can hear her without screaming. “Don’t worry! It’s easy! Here, watch me!” She slowly demonstrates first with her hands, then with her feet. The dance seemed a lot more complicated at first, but it actually isn’t all that bad and you find your rhythm with the beat of the music. “See!! You're a natural, Rhemi!” You feel your arm get tugged in the opposite direction and Keavy wiggles her fingers—“JUST HAVE FUN~!!!”

Twirling around, you end up with a skinnier Kokhurian arms—it’s Tad, and he has a huge toothy smile on his face. “Oi! Where is your betrothed, Rhemi?” He asks loudly as he spins you around and suddenly Ronin grabs your wrist and starts to dance with you too.

“I don't know!!! I lost him after the hillside—!” Ronin and Tad both exchange smiles, both apparently having the same idea. Ronin then lifts you up for a brief moment in a smooth dancing move giving you the perfect opportunity to find him. And there he is, on the side lines appearing to be looking for you as well. “Ooo! OOO!!! There he is!!” You wave at him giddily and he finally catches your eyes and grins looking a bit relieved.

As you return to your feet pat Ronin on the arm. “Thanks guys!!!” The couple wave you off and start to dance with one another and you work your way through the energetic crowd towards your shy hermit. You see that Shawn tries to get Muriel to join the dancing, but it's no use. He’s not budging. Soon, Shawn’s arm is linked with a pretty, young girl around his age, inviting him to dance with her. He blushed from chest to ears and he has an adorable large silly smile, unable to resist her.

Ava jumps out of the crowd to the side where Muriel is standing and shakes their head. Disappointedly watching as their brother gives up so quickly on their cousin because of a girl. Ava then waves Muriel in, with both hands. But he just shakes his head with a small sneer. They however are not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Looking rather determined, they tilt their head side-to-side seeming to be squaring up as they roll up their sleeves. Before Muriel realizes what is happen Ava dashes forwards, wrapping their arms around his waist, taking him completely by surprise. Using the same moves they used during the games, Ava somehow wrangles him into the dancing crowd around the large fire. He stumbles backwards and is caught quickly by Una and he recovers himself. He then attempts to pull himself out, but is unsuccessful as Gilbert and Ronin throw him back in. “O chan eil, Muriel! Get back in ‘ere!!!!”

Before he tries to escape once again, you take his wrist and inlace your fingers with his. He relaxes once he feels your familiar small hand in his and glances down to you, a deep blush taking over his cheeks and ears. “You know I don’t know how to dance!” He grumbles, but it’s loud enough for you to hear and you smile wide to reassure him.

A giggle emanates from your lungs and you shout over the loud sounds. “This isn’t the same though! Look around you, no one cares!!” Quickly, he scans the scene all around; Eventually he realizes that this isn’t dancing like back at home. This isn’t ballroom dancing at the palace, or waltzing at the Rowdy Raven. This is wild and almost primitive dancing, trilling, making various vocables and singing—just pure joyous celebration. Some are just jumping or running in circles around the fire while others are actually dancing—Some are even dancing it badly themselves, but are unperturbed. “See? No one is paying attention at all! Here, watch me!” You pull him towards you and he offers you no resistance as you show him the easy steps by his side just like Keavy did for you. He’s stiff, but he seems to pick up the steps easily enough and you both start to dance together. He gradually gets more relaxed and even seems to (almost) enjoy himself, even though he is trying to hide it. The music continues and it drives everyone into keep going, the high energy is very infectious.

After about twenty minutes or so, Muriel and you are able to pull yourselves out of the dancing during the transition of another song starts to play. Your hand tightly held with his as you both take a seat down on the sideline nearly breathless. Amazed that the rest of the crowd is still going. But you do notice that you can’t find Shona anywhere. Last time you saw her, she looked really upset at you, then she just…. vanished. And it makes you wonder where she went. You feel your heart drop a little. Jeez. I hope I didn’t ruin the celebration for them…

You look over to your right and notice Ida and Inanna curled up together fast asleep, the two have no right to look that completely and utterly adorable snuggled up like that. It’s probably around three or four o’clock in the morning, the poor thing is way past her bedtime. As you continue to look at cozy the two of them look, you honestly wouldn’t mind curling up and sleeping right now either, and by the look of Muriel’s eyes he wouldn’t either. Casting your aura was really surprisingly difficult and exhausting. Perhaps not or Muriel, but most definitely for you. Una mentioned that you might have given up too much. Drained magic always gets you sleepy. Then you got roped into dancing for however long, plus the time you had to find Muriel, then you both danced for awhile. Now you already tired limbs feel like limp noodles. But the other Kokhurians have no signs of stopping. Muriel looks like he could keep going if he really wanted to, but there is no way he is going to go back in there without you. You lean over and take advantage of Muriel’s presence and rest your head on his arm, and instantly feel more comfortable and warm. “Is this all that you expected when you got invited to stay almost two weeks ago?” You utter to him, feeling your vocal cords scratch in your throat from all the yelling.

He snorts and leans into you as well. “No. Not at all. It was… it was…” He pauses, thinking hard on what he is trying to say but shakes his head and gives up. “...It was different than I thought.”

“... Are you happy we came?” You ask stifling a yawn, your eyelids feeling heavy.

“... Yes. I am… Thanks, Rem.”

You can’t help but sputter a little. “For what?”

“.... I… I’m glad…. that you convinced us to come down here. This-... This is honestly one of the best times I’ve had in a long—” You feel his head turn and look towards your face, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, but they are starting to fall. You’re still listening though.

He drapes his hand tenderly over your shoulder and very gently shakes you until you open your eyes. “Hmmmm?…. Sorry! I-I’m—I’m awake! Just resting my eyes.”

Muriel barks a short laugh and stands to his feet, then offers his hand to help you up. “Com’on.... You’re tried. And I am too.” You want to argue with him, tell him that you can stay up. But you can’t deny how exhausted you are. Even though you both rested this afternoon, you're tempted to join Ida and curl up to Inanna’s soft fur and go to sleep. Reluctantly you take his hand and let him help you to your feet. “Lets get some sleep.” Muriel glance over to Inanna, but she doesn’t budge from her spot, and stays curled around Ida, keeping her warm and comfortable as if she was her own pup. He shrugs, she can take care of herself.

As soon as you get to the tent, you tear off your cloak and corset belt, plop your ass down on the bedding, kick off your shoes, grab the blankets, and furs and lazily wrap yourself in them like a cocoon. All the while, Muriel stokes the fire to keep the tent warm. Once he finally gets to the bedding and after he takes off his belts, cloak, and shoes, you wrap your arms around him and pull him down and cuddle him tight before he can take off his shirt startling him a little. “-Rem, you didn’t even take off your skirt.” He mumbles, slight amusement in his voice. You silently shrug, too tired to speak any words other than just grumbles and groans. Then you become very quiet and still. “... You already asleep?” He whispers. You hear him, but you can’t seem to answer him; you’re just too tired. As you nearly drift off, you can feel him give you a feather light kiss on your forehead, then he presses his cheek gently to your temple. He very quietly whispers. “.... I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“Wh—? Huh?!” Your eyes fly open, not believing your ears, and you pull yourself out of his embrace to groggily look at his face. “... Did…. did you just say the ‘H’ word, Mur?!”

A large shiver runs down his spine and he tucks you closer to his chest attempting to hide his embarrassed expression and his crimson red face and chest, you can even hear his heart beat thud faster in his chest. “... N-NO!... I… I didn’t say anything… must have been dreaming.” He lies.

“Pfft!! You big adorable fibber!” You rub your left eye, then run your fingers through his hair making him melt into the bedding. A soft giggle escapes behind your teeth and you pepper his neck with sloppy kisses. “Say it again…. I wanna hear it….” You mutter, half asleep, mumbling in his neck.

Heat immediately radiates off of his chest at that request. “W-what-?... A-Aren’t you supposed to be exhausted??” He is right, you are very tired… You decide to cuddle up and drop it… for now. But your heart is leaping inside your chest—He finally said it, there is no taking it back. It makes being engaged feel that more real. You’re going to be with him for the rest of your life. It feels wonderful to know that. Even if you two didn’t get married, just being with him the rest of your life is all you really wanted.

A large yawn fills your lungs and you try to fight the urge to drift off. “Fine…. but… you better get…. used to…. to those…. *yawn*... words…” Nuzzling your face into his warm chest you start to feel sleep taking over once again, and there isn’t overcoming it this time. “.... Love you, Mur. I… I can’t w-wait to… to be you—…. your…… wi.....fe….”

Finally sleep incapacitates you and you drift into the realm of dreams. Fiery wings and all, feeling free and happy. Soon Mister Bear is there to join you once again and you both run around the large empty tundra.

This is my favorite dream….

—-—-—-

The morning call of the rouge rooster wakes you from your happy dream and you find yourself laying on your back and Muriel’s face is buried in your chest, slightly snoring. You don’t mind him there, finding him in this position is actually quite cute. But as soon as you fidget just the slightest, he wakes up, shuddering when he realizes his position and rolls over onto his side looking apologetic. “.... S-Sorry, was I heavy?” He mumbles groggily.

You smile at him almost longingly, fingers lightly brushing up against the grain of his stubble on his cheek, strangely enjoying that sandpaper feeling. “No, you were fine…” You fiddle with a small lock of his now messy hair, loving the feeling of it and studying the dark color. You love his hair. “I love you Muri.”

“I love you too.” He whispers back very sincerely and he leans into your touch.

He holds the small of your back as he moves to his spine and you lay on his chest. “So….. What… ah…. What happened last night?” You finally ask.

He slightly stretches out his toes and rubs his tired face with is free hand. “What do you mean? What part?”

“Well…. For starters… You kissed me in front of everyone” Muriel suddenly becomes very flushed, he seemed to have all but forgot that. “—N-not that I mind that! I actually really enjoyed it. It was just a shock. A good shock!... But I know you were about ten different shades of red after it. Like you didn’t mean to.”

He averts his eyes and turns his head away from you looking at the opposite side of the tent and flounders for words. “.... I… I don’t know… I just… you—the….the casts and the lights…. it was just…” he sighs very heavily, frustration thick in his tone.

“I didn’t say it was bad!!! The others didn’t mind at all! They even cheered for you!.... All I am trying to say was that… It’s just not like you. Do you not know why you did either?” He shrugs and stays quiet, seeming to not know what to say. You haven't seen him this uncomfortable alone with you in such a long time now, it’s almost alarming. You decide to take pity on him and you hold his hand. “You don’t have to answer, Mur.”

Muriel taps the top of your hand. You move off of his chest and Muriel sits himself up, peering over to the dying fire. Finally by the time you think he’s going to ignore the question, he breaks the silence. “I… just remembered my nightmare before we came down here…. That’s the first time I thought I remembered seeing the phoenix… She-… well.. you helped me… It made all the bad things so away.....” You heart leap inside your chest a bit. You always wondered what he meant that you were in his dream. Still its is confusing how you even got there. “.... But then you mentioned the meadow and then I remembered that too…” He pauses, pondering a bit more, pushing back his messy hair out his face. “... guess I’ve been leaping longer than I thought.” Letting his hair down the rest of the way, he shakes it out a little so he can fix it later before he continues. “—Anyways— I just should have known it was you…. I mean… I had suspensions… But I wasn’t sure….. I guess in the back of my mind I always knew, but… once I saw you burst into flames last night—”

Burst into… Flames?! What the hell?! Shooting your upper body up from the bedding, you make him jump from your sudden movement. “Wait—I did what now?!”

“....Y- Your magic—when you were summoning your aura last night, it looked like fire. It even had heat to it—You lit up most of the hillside!” In complete disbelief, you flutter your eyes, not sure what to think of all this as you continue to listen to him. “...That’s why we all were so shocked…. I.. I kinda got worried at first—afraid of you being in pain. But Una stopped me... made me realize that you were fine….. I… I even saw you do that in your dream once.... You know.... the one with Ezavior.”

You stare at him, mouth opened, completely lost for words. You had no idea that had happened. You did feel the warmth, but you didn’t think your magic would manifest physically like it did. “That’s….ah…. that is… A little… umm…. strange.” You mutter scratching the back of your head, trying to envision the sight. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He gives you a small smile. “It’s fine. You weren’t in pain, that's all I cared about.”

“It’s kinda weird… but it's also... kinda…. Awesome!!” Randomly you start to rant, and Muriel just listens to your silliness. “— I can burst into freakin’ flames?! FIRE?! How awesome is that?! I didn’t know I could do that!!! I had never even seen a phoenix before last night! I guess I still haven't seen a real one technically.... But it was really cool to see!!” You finally stop you rants and your eyes light up and mischievously glance over to Muriel and his nostrils flare, getting prepared. He knows…

“...Don’t… you…dare...” He grumbles, brow furrowed. “Too early for this--.”

You smile idiotically, unable to resist. “...Or should I say…. Hot~ —OOOOFF!!!” Right as you utter that word, he very gently smack his pillow at your face, muffling your giggles.

His face twisted like he smelled something horrible and he sighs painfully. A large reluctant grin sprouts across his lips and you burst into full laughter at his disgust. You’ve made some bad puns before. But that one was up there. “.... Why?! Gah—That one …. actually hurt—Physically hurt me!! That was so bad.” He mutters and shakes his head slowly.

“Where??” You manage to ask through your giggles.

He move his entire body so he can show you and points to his chest with his pointer and middle finger chuckling at his words. “Here—Right here. Goddamn it, that was so awful!!... Holyshitwoman.”

You can’t help but laugh harder at him as he shakes his head at you a little more, but he is still smiling widely. “I’m sorry, Love.”

“Pfft! Whatever! No you’re not.” He snorts with his eyebrow raised.

Still laughing at yourself, you shake your head sharply, still sporting a ridiculous smile. “Yeah—No… I’m not.” You stretch your arms out a little and continue to giggle softly to yourself. “Remember you asked this to marry you!” Gesturing vaguely to all of your body you shimmy your arms slight. “...You're gonna have to deal with this shit for a while! You sure you wanna sign up for this the rest of your life?”

Muriel blushes a bit, but has a cute grin on his face as he leans into you, his gaze very warm. “... Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” He says under his breath his pointer finger and thumb slightly tilting back your chin. A large aroused shiver runs up your spine, making your breath shaky as he closes the gap. His chapped morning lips tenderly pressed against yours, and you kiss him back. Loving his touch, his taste, his gentleness, his everything. This is the man you are going to marry. How did I manage this? Not only does he love me….. I’m not afraid to be myself. He makes me feel so safe. He makes me feel brave. Strong… like I could do anything. I want to be by his side forever. I want to be there for him.

Somehow you find yourself straddled on top of him, lips smacking passionately. It’s unclear how exactly you got there, but really, you do not care. Both of you start to feel hot and heavy, hips starting to move and grind erotically. And you start to pull up his shirt, thirsting to taste, feeling hunger in your eyes. As you work your kisses down his abdomen, making him slightly moan and hiss, you start to undo his pants. But out of nowhere he becomes stiff and grabs your wrist gently to stop you. “—Wait!!! Rhemi! IT’S THE SOLSTICE TODAY!!”

“Huh?....” Your eyes meet with his, the urgency behind his gaze makes you realize—FUCK! Today is the third day!!!! You inhale sharply gasping, “AVA!!!! SHIT FUCK!!!! WHAT TIME IS IT?! We—We still have to talk to Gilbert!!! OH, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!” Both of you hastily scramble to get dressed. Ava is probably waiting around outside this very moment to practice a few more times before tonight. After donning your boots, you glance up at Muriel and notice a small hickey on his neck, before he covers it up with his green scarf. You smack your forehead with your left palm and groan. “Fuck…. I did it again…. I’m so sorry, Muri. I’m now the frigid queen of blue balling.”

Muriel turns to you as he clasps. “I’ll live. I know this is important to Ava and to you! You two have been working very hard for more than a week.” You stick out your bottom lip a little feeling very guilty still. “.... Don’t look like that.” He snorts in amusement at you.

Your face flushes all of a sudden. “Look like what?”

“Like this.” He sticks out his bottom lip imitating what must be your expression… and he does it a little too well.

Your brow furrows and your mouth gapes open feeling a bit impressed and called out. “I-I do not look like that!”

He stifles a short bark with his hand, nodding his head. “Yes. You do! Just like a kid who dropped their candy.” You start to stick out your bottom lip a bit more out of instinct and his shoulders shake, holding in his laughter.

“I am offended by this accusation, sir! I am an adult!! And I do not pout like that!” You fold your arms tightly trying to hide a smile.

“What??” He snickers a bit at your reaction and shrugs. “...It’s cute. I think it is anyway.”

Not knowing what to say in retaliation, you mutter, “Shut up...”, and stick out your tongue making his shoulder shake from holding in his laughter.

“Oh, yeah. You're an adult alright” His hand brushes against your cheek and he leans down kissing your forehead. “I’m going to see if anyone needs some help today. When I come back I’ll bring you back something to eat.”

Unable to resist, you wriggle your brow, quickly wink, and seductively bite your bottom lip. “Ooh, are you now, Muri~?”

Muriel sputters as crimson red paints his face and ears. “Dammit!! NOT LIKE THAT!!!” He half shouts, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. “... Terrible!! Just…. terrible!!” He grumbles under his breath, but you swear you can hear a slight snorty chuckle.

You tilt your head and glance at his groin. “I mean….. I have been rather hungry for some—”

“—R-RHEMI!!”

“What?? I was going to say ‘fish’.” You grin, batting your eyelashes, fakely looking innocent, stifling your snickers. “... Where was your mind at, Muriel?”

“Yeah…. sure you were…” He snorts through his nose and rolls his eyes, attempting to hide a flattered grin behind the fur of his cloak.

As you fasten you corset belt you quickly ask,“Are you trying to say… you wouldn’t like that?”

He stiffens, staring hard at the ground, scratching his neck, grumpily murmuring, “....Didn’tsaythat….” Slightly smirking at the thought, then shakes his head from lewd thoughts, his cheeks flushed once again. “—Fish! I am going and getting us some fish! Y-You— Go find Ava!” Adorably, he storms out the tent, and you giggle to yourself. Oh boy, I fuckin’ love that shy man~

After you finally get yourself presentable, you dash out of the tent and start to look around camp for Ava. Shockingly, they aren’t waiting outside. Judging by the sun, it’s about to be noon and the sun will be going down in only five or so hours. Gilbert starts the tales around nine o’clock. Time is of the essence!

You make your way around, you search high and low. You don’t have their pencil anymore, nor anything else that is theirs so you can’t conjure a searching spell to find them like you did before. Some more time goes by and you’ve looked almost everywhere for them; near the tombstones, on the hillside where the forget-me-nots are next to camp, you even search near their tent. Not many people are awake right now, you could only guess that they are all still resting from staying up so late last night. But you do see Ida and Keavy walking around, then notice Una rocking her little baby asleep in her arms outside of her tent while some of her younger kids are weaving baskets. To make sure that you don’t stir anyone up, you start to whisper Ava’s name, hoping that they would come out. But it’s no use. You even politely ask around to the people who are awake. Yet no one has seen them since early this morning during their patrol.

Feeling at a loss, you decide to take a break for a moment and sit near the giant fire in the middle of camp. Not very long after, you notice Muriel walking towards you with four large fish tied to some string. He looks around you with slight confusion on his face. “Where’s Ava?” He asks as he starts to cook three of the four fish in the large fire, and tosses Inanna the other. “I caught them something to eat too.”

You huff, stick out your bottom lip feeling a bit defeated. “Still can’t find them…” A small shiver runs down your spine and tuck your knees into your chest.

“Hmm…”

Both of you sit there for a moment while the fish cook. A large growl rubbles loudly from your stomach as you eye the large cooking trout. Muriel eyes fall onto you, and your face blanches a bit. He chuckles softly, takes one of the trout that’s ready and hands it to you. “... You should eat… don’t need you passing out today.”

“Yeah, I’m not that delicate, dear!” You scowl at him slightly. But hastily you grab the fish by the stick instantly making your mouth water. “....Buuuut you've got a good point.”

You take a large bite without a second thought and Muriel shudders.“—Hey, careful! Don’t burn—” You shrug, and his words die in his throat. It’s warm, but not that bad, it doesn’t burn your mouth either so you continue to eat. “I… I just took that off the fire…” He mutters to himself, shaking his head a little, inspecting the fish in your hand. “Is it not cooked?”

You shake your head and wipe your mouth with your sleeve. “Tastes done to me.” But it is weird that it’s already cool enough to eat.

Unconvinced, he pokes at the unchard part of it with his finger, testing the temperature. Immediately he pulls away, hissing and shaking his hand, sticking his finger briefly in his mouth to cool it. “It’s still hot!!.... Rem, H-How are you doing that?!”

You stop chewing and look between him and the fish. There are still some embers burning on the scales. It is hot. As you think for a few seconds, you just now realized that you don’t remember the last time you have been burnt. Other than fevers from being sick and the seduction elixir, heat hasn’t really bothered you. “.... I… I dunno…” You put the fish down for a moment and stare at your hands, but they are also unfazed by the searing heat. This is really weird.

Muriel barks a confused and impressed chuckle, shaking his head as he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you partly into his cloak. “... You….. Always keeping me on my toes…”

“I keep myself on my toes…” You snort, unsure what to do with this new information, other than laugh that is.

For the next few minutes, you both sit there in silence as you continue to eat your meal. Then a thought comes across your mind, making you giggle a bit. “What?” He asks after swallowing a mouth full.

“I just thought of something…. If I’m a phoenix… then why are my feet always so freakin’ cold?”

Muriel’s eyes open wide, then he throws his head back laughing so hard it makes his whole body shake. Unable to resist his infectious laugh, you join in. As soon as he gets a hold of himself he places his fish down and wraps both arms around your waist, pulls you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re a mess…. but I love you for it.” Nobody is really around, so you both enjoy being snuggled close in this cold southern air.

As much as you want to stay in the warm embrace of your sweet hermit, you both know you have to continue your search for Ava. Now getting desperate, you even start to search in between the tents to see if they are hiding there. “Ava!!!” You loudly whisper, sneaking around somewhere near Gilbert and Una’s large family tent. “....Aaaaaaavaaaa!...... Com’on, Ava!! We’re running out of—” As you turn around you nearly bump into a tall figure carrying a large bundle of furs in their arms. “WOOH! WOOPS!!!” The both of you jolt and shudder from the surprise and you make them drop all the fur to the ground. Your hands fly up feeling incredibly embarrassed as you backup instinctively, unsure who it is. “OOO!—S-SORRY!! Sorry!... sorry.. M-my fault!! Here let me help you with that!” You whimper, scrambling to the ground to collect them and brush off the dirt.

An all too familiar irritated tut makes you stop. Quickly glancing up towards their face, and you're greeted with tightly folded arms and a disgusted looking sneer. Your brow twitches slightly and a small bead of sweat forms on your temple under their piercing hateful gaze; you haven’t seen them since last night on the hillside... Oh great… just what I needed right now… “Oh!... H-Hey…. Shona…” She slowly blinks silently, and slightly flaring her nostrils, just beaming down at you. You didn’t notice till now, but you’ve made your way back around to her and Ava’s tent. You nervously smile and sheepishly hand her back the furs and she snatches them back, grumbling under her breath without the slightest hint of a ‘thank you’.—No surprise there. Technically it was partly your fault.

For the first time, you see that the entrance of their tent is wide open, her hands are too full, so she couldn’t shut it back immediately. Your eyes naturally follow her as she places the furs down near a half finished light colored parka pinned to a mannequin standing on a wooden tripod. It was very dainty looking, but it was obvious the work is very well done. Intrigued, you pop your head inside the tent a little more and you see furs, leather, beads, tassels, and other material litter half of the tent. Weapons, spears, bows and arrows litter the other half and there are two small dividers on opposite sides that appear to be sleeping quarters. Easy to tell which side is who’s. Shona then dashes back out, jerking the tent entrance shut, and folds her arms once with her very sour expression. Feeling a bit awkward, you rub the ball of your right foot into the cold dirt, curiosity got the best of you. “Th—that parka is really pretty… Did you make it?” You mutter attempting to diffuse some of the tension, but it doesn’t seem to help.

Shona gives nothing but cold silence. It’s evident that she still despises you and is clearly hinting that she wants you to leave. You almost do just that, but then a thought occurred that she is bound to know exactly where her twin is. You swallow hard and muster up the courage to finally ask. “... So… ah…. Ha-have you seen Ava around lately?? I'm looking for them.” She continues to stand there in front of her tent silent, then shifts her weight to her left hip, and raises an eyebrow harshly judging once again. Holy shit woman. If looks could fuckin’ kill… You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh heavily, just about fed up with this hateful attitude of hers. “Mmmmkay—... Look, I need to find them. It’s really important that I do. Have you seen them?” She exhales hard through her nose, seeming determined to just to stand there and not tell you a thing. You soften your face and stare up at her now pleading. “Please, Shona…. It’s about something that is important to them.” At last, she huffs, rolls her eyes, reluctantly pointing you towards the stalls where the animals are held on the other side of camp. Finally!!! Thankful, your shoulders relax slightly feeling relieved you smile kindly to her but she just scowls harder. “Thank you, Shona.”

Tuning your heels around, you start to hurry off in that direction, but she opens her mouth. “....You know…” Her words stop you dead in your tracks, she speaks very softly, but has a particularly sour tone to it, and you whip your head back around to meet her green eyes. “...Last night didn’t mean anything, NewComer. You’re just more of a decent magician than expected.” She pauses and a small malicious smirk twitches up in the corners of her mouth as she takes a few steps closer towards you. “... You may have been able to cast your aura… you may be able to speak the language of old… hell, you may even marry my cousin that you don’t deserve…” Your fist clenches up tightly as she leans her head down almost to your level looking very sadistically, making her long braid fall down off her shoulder, and it swings side-to-side as she mutters just above a whisper. “.... But will never be one of us.”

You press your lips together tightly as you focus on slowing your now shaky breathing as rage and anger starts to burn inside of your chest. You then take a few steps back before your temper gets the best of you. You know that she is just dumping all her built up resentment and anger on you. But that was unnecessarily cruel… You hate to admit it, but that one hurt… a lot. You haven't belonged with anywhere except your friends in a long time. You don’t even remember belonging to anything else... family is forien to you. And you have been fine with that. You didn’t care. But then again, being here with the Kokhuri, you started to feel a strange familiar sense of family you’ve secretly longed for. But once you get comfortable again, Shona seems to always be there to keep gracing you with rude reminders of how that isn’t really true.

It’s frustrating that you must hold back what you really want to say to her, but you slowly start to walk backwards away. Her loathing smirk just grows even wider. You turn yourself around sluggishly to walk away, but your feet suddenly stop. Part of you wants to tell her off so badly, but you know that will push her in the other direction even more. Strangely, you still just want to be her friend. You want her to know you mean no harm. You're not a bad person. You don’t want her to be threatened by you. But… this was a cold hearted attack. She’s just… so fucking mean. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself feeling your heart beat increase behind your sternum. “Hey, Shona…” Turning back around to face them once again, they glare back at you, clearly feeling very victorious, seeming to be awaiting some kind of vicious retaliation. But that's what she wants…. She wants you to prove her right.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts together, pause and nod to yourself. Impatiently, she shakes her head and shrugs wanting to know what you have to say. “Well??.... What?? I don’t have all day….”

You take in another deep breath to calm yourself, clear away your emotions, and think about the root of all of this. You unwind your fist and drop your tight clenched shoulders and calmly speak in a very empathetic tone. “I know you are in a lot of pain… and you have the right to be angry about it.” Shona shudders and her smirk falls into a low tight frown. She was not expecting that, at least now you’ve got her attention. “… But just because someone else really hurt you… doesn’t give you the right to constantly try to hurt me.” Her eyes are wide, and just seemingly stunned by your statement. As you turn away to trundle off, you utter one last sentence. “... Just…. think about that one for awhile… Will ya?” And refuse to look back.

As you pass another tent you veer in front of it to clear your head before continuing towards the stables. Her words cut like a damn knife. But you have to keep going. Many tonight she’ll see…But I doubt tat she will ever stop hating me though.

Once you get a hold of yourself you start to make you way over to where the animals are held. Low and behold, there is Ava, hiding themselves behind the horse’s pin sitting on the ground with two fluffy ox calves curled up next to them, petting their heads as they are fast asleep.

Relieved you sigh, “There you are!” They start at the sound of your voice, quickly standing to their feet, they don’t seem to be happy that you're here. Wait… were they hiding from me?? Shaking the thought way, you wave them to follow you, hoping that isn’t the case. “...C'mon! Lets go talk to your dad. It’s getting late.” As you turn to start to travel in that direction, but they tug your cloak and pull you back. When you glance back at them, they shake their head widely, but slowly. They look so terrified . “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to do this?” Ava stares down at the ground and shrugs and your hands instinctively hold your hips. “So you were hiding from me, huh, Ava??” A small bead of sweat foams on their forehead and they scratch the back of their head, still avoiding your eyes. “... Are you getting cold feet?”

Sheepishly they nod, looking ashamed and they start to move their hands slowly. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Everyone is going to watch this.”

“I thought that was the point.”

They sigh hard. “Maybe next year… This is just too much right now.”

Frustration starts to recharge your depleted energy and your blood starts to lightly boil. Brow furrowed, nostrils flared. I have been looking for their ass for almost two hours, been insulted by their sister, blue-balled my fiancé—again—and they are telling me they are getting cold feet NOW?! Suddenly your arms move without a second thought. Ava jolts as you grab their face with both hands, squishing their cheeks together, their face low looking like a fish, and pull their head down to your level. “AVA. Listen. To. Me….” Ava is now completely rigid and unsure what to do, but they don’t pull away, their face bright red as they are forced to look into your eyes and you inhale deeply and encouragement suddenly floods your mind. “You’ve been practicing this for the past week and a half! You have mastered the magic. You have mastered the story.” You nearly touch their forehead with yours, and feel the heat start to radiate off their face and they hold their breath. You may be too close for comfort, but you don’t care and you slightly shake them out of excitement. “You and I are going to talk to your father. You're going to show everyone what you can do. You are going to do amazing, and you are going to make your dreams a reality!!! AVA!! You. Can. Do. This!!!” Their cheeks become warm in your cool hands and they groan a little looking behind you. You whip yourself around, and see Keavy holding a bucket of feed, looking very confused at whatever she is looking at. Realizing how strange this all might look, you release Ava’s face, but grab their fur cloak so you don’t let them run off. “—Not what it looks like!!” You utter, sweat falling off your temple.

“Yeah… I know…” She says with an entertained looking grin on her face and shaking the feed bucket. The ox calves jump up with a little low moo and trot over towards Keavy’s direction. “... Shawn told me you two were up to something, ‘bout four days ago. Don’t know what it’s about, but I’m sure it's exciting if you gotta hide it from everyone, Ava~”

You can't help but smile proudly, “You have no idea!” But then realize you let go of Ava’s cloak and they have vanished. You whip yourself back to Keavy, “GAHH!! SHIT!!! Where’d they—?!”

She gives you a blank look, resting her weight on the wooden fence post and points in the direction of the hillside next to camp. “Looked like they were in a hurry…”

You hastily jump over the pen about to sprint in that direction, yelling their name. “AAV—OOOF!!” Then proceed to land face first into the dirt. Keavy first covers her mouth in concern, but once she sees that you're fine, and you spit and sputter out the dirt from your mouth, she stifles her laughter as you scramble to your feet, run and shout like a madwoman. “—AVA!!!!!”

Your eyes catch the top of their head as they walk quickly through the middle of camp. Ava pretends to not hear you as they start to pick up speed, but little did they know— You’re fast— almost as fast as Asra— and you nearly gain on them in no time. Now they start to run, trying their best to evade you, they nearly slam themselves into Muriel’s chest as he happens to come around the blind corner. They dash around him and he stands there awkwardly. Confused, Muriel then realizes who that just was and opens his mouth to shout their name, but before he can, you half shout, “AVAAAAA!!!!!”, dashing as fast as you can right past him and Inanna. “—YOU CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR DESTINY!!!!” Suddenly you screech to a halt, looking back to Muriel, and inhale a large gasp. “Muriel!!! MY LOVE!!! My sweet man!!!! Don’t ask why, but I need your muscles!!!!”

“What-? Are they running from you?—” You grab him by the wrist with both hands, cutting him off. Ava is trying to make a break for it towards the graveyard. If they manage to get there, you know that have lost them.

“SHUSH! I SAID I HAD NO TIME TO EXPLAIN!!!! JUST, CHARGE!!!” You war cry, getting a strange sense of déjà vu here.

Muriel sighs grumpily, but follows behind as you lead the charge. Ava starts to slow down, probably thinking they have just about given you the slip. But then turns around to see you with a ferocious feral look in your eyes. “AAAAVA!!!” You screech.

They gasp a loud startled muffled squeak, as you tackle them from behind and wrap all four limbs around their shoulders and torso and you grunt through your bearded teeth. “YOU CAN’T RID OF THIS WITCH THAT EASILY!!!! I’M LIKE A FREAKIN’ LEACH!!!!!” In just three quick shakes, they pry you off of their back, somehow not hurting you in the process. As they fling you off, you manage to land gracefully on your feet and you try to summon your magic. Unfortunately it still seems to be drained from casting your aura last night. Still you some way or any other manage to bring up some rope and tie it around their right leg. They try to make another run for it, but fall down to the ground.

They swiftly get to their feet and find Muriel barreling towards them like a mad bull, and they go on the defensive instinctively, arms up, palms open. He attempts to grab Ava’s waist to tackle them and pin them down. Before he can they snatch his wrist and it soon becomes a battle of strength. Muriel starts to grit his teeth and mumbles, “Why are you…. running away…. from Rhemi?? Isn’t…. this is what… you’ve always…… wanted to do???” Ava bares their teeth and growls like an irritated wild animal and lunges forwards and grabs his waist, forcing him backwards and knocking half the wind out of him. He gets his footing and slowly pushes and wrestles them back and they release his waist. Taking the opportunity, in one fast move, Muriel bear hugs them, forcing their upper arms to their sides, unable to use them effectively and he just lifts them off their feet. They dangle there, wriggling and squirming about and start to kick their feet around. At this point, poor Muriel has had enough of this crap. “You’ve been caught! So—just—HOLD… STILL!! I don’t want to hurt you!!!”

All three of you now take a breath and you huff and puff for air. Once you catch some of your breath and they stop protesting, you walk over to where Muriel is binding them tightly. “Ava! Stop fighting will ya? He’ll let you go if you stop trying to run!” They open and close their mouth furiously, seeming to want to tell you to go to hell. You sigh deeply and look into their eyes sincerely. “Ava.... If you don’t do this now, you never will….. You know that!... I know you do….”

They finally stop fighting for a few seconds and their face relaxes. A reluctant moan escapes their lungs and they calmly tap Muriel’s forearm with their hand, signaling to let them go. Muriel and you exchange one brief glance and you nod to him. Once they are released they don’t make anymore attempts to run away as they drop to sit on the cold ground covered in forget-me-nots, then lay down flat on their back and gazing into the partly cloudy sky. Finally they start to move their hands. “What if Papa says ‘no’?”

You squat down to their level feeling rather exhausted after all this running and tackling. “Then, he says ‘no’. He isn’t going to disown you.”

Ava their trunk back up and starts to move their hands a bit faster and more emotionally. “What if I just embarrass myself?!”

“You’re not going to embarrass yourself, Ava. Tell me one other person— other than me— than can do what you can do?? And if you mess up a part, or make a mistake, it’s not the end of the world. Yes, these are trials. But no one knows what it's supposed to look like.”

Ava nods their head and blows an unconvinced raspberry out their mouth, draping their left arm lazily over their knee.

Muriel then kneels down and places his hand gently on their shoulder. “Ava… I’ve seen how it looks, just in a few days you’ve managed to make the story look great— You can understand what's going on without the verbal story….. Rhemi’s not trying to force anything on you. But running away isn’t the answer either. Running will just get easier while facing this head-on will get harder and harder..... besides... She isn’t going to stop... Trust me.”

Ava blows a piece of hair off of their face and nods to themself a bit. You tilt your head and tuck your loose side bangs behind your ear. “Ava, I know you're worried about a number of things.” You stand to your feet and offer your hand to them. “You will never know if you don’t try.” Finally they take your hand and you help pull them up to their feet. “You can do this, Ava.”

They give a small grin and look towards Muriel and start to move their hands. It takes you a moment, then you translate what they said. “They said, ‘... She has a weird way of motivating people. I never thought tackling would be one of them.’”

Muriel barks a short laugh. “You’re not the only person she’s tackled. Just be happy she did threaten you.”

Ava snorts, and speaks with her hands making you giggle a little. “They said, ‘I don’t find that surprising’.”

All three of you make your way up the hillside, very shocked that no one has noticed your rather loud hijinxs. You thank Muriel for his help, but then quickly have to make your way to Ava’s father. You’ve lost enough time as it is.

Luckily, Gilbert is found not far from his and Una’s tent, washing clothes with the younger children. Some of the older boys around fourteen to eight are helping while the other smaller ones play. He greets you two with his iconic large smile and jolly laugh. “Madainn mhath, Ava, Rhemi…. what can I do for you?”

Ava is stiff as a board and is pointedly staring at their feet, parolized by apprehension and fear. You decide to take pity on the poor thing and speak up. “Good morning… afternoon?... Whatever it is… Say… Gilbert?”

He stops washing for a moment, looking up at you from the ground, giving you his full attention. Quietly you lean closer and shield your mouth with your hand so no one else can hear. “Could we talk to you somewhere private, Gilbert?”

He blinks a few times, giving you a blank look, and darts from you to Ava with deepening suspension. He shrugs and places the wet sudsy clothes he was working on back into the water. “Ah… Sure. Alright then.” He stands to his feet and calls Shawn to take over for him. Shawn isn’t all that pleased getting roped into chores, but once he sees that it's the two of you he seems to not mind as much. While following behind Gilbert, you nearly have to drag Ava into the tent, they are so nervous. The worst part is telling him, and you know it. As you all enter the tent you pull the entrance closed while Gilbert and Ava sit near the fire. Gilbert stokes the fire and warms his wet hands and you take a seat next to Ava’s side. “So… what’s on the two of your minds, eh?” Gilbert asks, rolling down his sleeve.

Pure dead silence takes over the tent, building the tension even thicker as Ava refuses to look at either of your. You glance up at Ava, their face is beaming red and hot. Using your closest elbow, you nudge Ava’s side and they jump slightly, seeming to get them out of their stupor. They take a deep breath and start to move their hands slowly so you can understand. “... Papa… I want…. I want to help you with tonight’s story.”

Gilbert snorts, shaking his head confused. “...But…. you already help, my cub. You play the drum—”

Ava waves their hands cutting him off mid sentence. “No, no, no. I want to help… telling it.”

“Hmm?” Gilbert's eyes are incredibly wide and he holds his breath for a few seconds, completely taken off guard by this request. He then clears his throat unsure what to do or say, evident by him opening and closing his mouth a few times before spitting out actual words. “... Ava… I—…..How-.... I mean…. Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but….How else…. can you…?”

Mustering up all their courage, Ava answers him by summoning their dark blue shimmery magic in their hand. Two silhouettes then form taking the shape of a small child covered in a hood and a large fluffy wolf. With a flick of their opposite wrist, they sent the shadow puppets down off of their palm to the ground making them playfully chase one another. Despite the colors and size, the way Ava makes the puppets move and behave, it really looks like it’s two living creatures running around on the ground. Gilbert's face brightens, he leans down, his eyes fixed onto the shadowy figures completely fascinated and perplexed by the sight. He even reaches for the small child. His fingers faze right through their body, making them blurry, but it returns back to its shape immediately as his fingers move. “What…. What is this??”

You smile proudly at your student then offer the explanation. “Ava found me playing with their younger sibling on the hillside the second or third day we came here. I was showing off some of my illusion magic. This caught their eyes, and I taught them how to do it. They told me that this was like an old forgotten form of Master Speaking…”

“... The Master Illuminators.” He nods slowly to himself, his thoughts obviously racing, he covers his hands over his mouth, lost for words continuously mezzmerized by the shadow puppets movements. “.... So this is what we had forgotten for a hundred years?.... This is…so…. beautiful. You learned this just in a week, Ava?”

Ava’s cheeks start to turn pink, dropping their hand making the shadow puppets disappear into thin air. “If you think this is good, you should see the whole show!” You say giddily.

Gilbert's eyes finally look back up to the two of you, completely dumbfounded. “....There’s… There more??”

Ava sheepishly nods their head, rubbing their bicep with their opposite hand before they answer with their hands. “Been practicing.” Ava then gently places their hand on your closet shoulder, cheeks deeper red. “...Rhemi has been teaching me.”

A large grin washes over his face as he beams at Ava, he couldn't be more proud looking. “.... So… You are asking to start the trials, Ava?”

They swallow hard and take a deep inhale, nodding their head. “... But don’t tell anyone.”

Gilbert’s large smile falls, and is replaced with a confused frown. “What do you mean, ‘don’t tell anyone’?? Why not, my cub?? Your mother and Shona—”

Ava violently shakes their head protesting, staring at the ground before bringing their hands back up. “Just don’t tell them. Please. I don’t want anyone to know about it.”

Gilbert pushes out a long heavy exhale and rubs his temples, eventually he begrudgingly nods in agreement. “Alright, my cub… I don’t understand why. Everyone will find out by tonight—But you need to find someone to cover the drums!”

Ava nods sharply and excitedly and a wry smile widely. But then tears overwhelm their eyes and they quickly try to brush them away. This sudden emotion shocks both you and Gilbert. “Sorry, Papa—Rhemi…. I’m fine.” They say quickly with their left hand while trying to wipe the tears with the other.

Fatherly concern kicks in, and Gilbert scoots forwards on his knees closer to Ava. He pulls his child into his arms looking very worried, but they are reluctant to accept it. “What’s this?? Aren’t you happy, cub??”

They nod, and pull away enough so they can communicate and start to very emotionally move their hands. You almost don’t catch all of it because of the speed. “I am happy, Papa.... But I’m scared too.”

Gilbert looked at his child with such concern. “Why are you scared? My Ava is never scared!!”

Ava sniffles, not really wanting to answer, but they know they need to. “... I don’t want to be a disappointment again.”

“...What??” Gilbert’s face looks as if his heart just broke into pieces. “... When have I ever told you that you were a disappointment, Ava??”

They choke on their tears slightly, unable to look him in the eye. “You didn’t say it. No one has…. I felt like I was… Ever since I lost my voice….”

Gilbert pauses for a moment, but utterly appalled at the thought. “Why… why in the world would you think that??”

Ava does their very best to keep their composure, and their eyes meet with his. “....Because… I couldn’t be like you.”

Gilbert's heart is now completely broken. “Oh my cub… My poor sweet young cub….” A wave of sadness overwhelms him as tears pool in his eyes, lips pressing together tightly, he shakes his head slowly looking deeply into Ava’s eyes. Gently he cups his child’s face in his large palms, wipes their tears with his thumbs as they continue to roll down their cheeks, softly and comfortingly he speaks to them softly in Rune. “Ava… I have never been disappointed in you. I could care less that you couldn’t be like me! … You being here alive is alway enough for me…. I thought…. I thought I was going to lose one of my children that day…” Pressing his forehead against Ava’s, he pets their head with one hand as they start to sob. They lean into his palm on their cheek, accepting his comfort. “I.... I was just so hurt to see you and your sister so unhappy. My first born cubs were broken that day. It hurt to see my children feel like they had no purpose in life anymore…” Shakiness in his voice, he pauses for a moment to collect himself before tears take over. “...I am so sorry you believed that, Ava… Momma and I never wanted you to feel this way, cub. I’m so sorry.”

Ava pulls away and has a soft smile on their lips, looking so relieved to hear those words. They slowly move their hands. “...It wasn’t your fault, Papa. I never told you how I felt… I don’t think I knew I felt that way until recently.” The expressions on their face are so heartfelt, you can’t help but feel your heartstrings being pulled.

Gilbert holds Ava’s face again, pride gleaming in his eyes as he smiles at them and sniffles with them. “Ahhh! But look at you now! Your eyes are bright and full of life again! Figured something was going on—And I see it’s because you're doing what you want to do!! You amaze me every single day. I am so proud of you. Not for wanting to be like your old man, but for being who you are.”

Ava nods their head, red reaming their eyes, they throw their arms around his neck and they hug each other tightly and weep together. They both have seemed to have forgotten that you’re still there, but you don’t care. You can’t help but feel emotional too witnessing and you hide your tears too. You feel so proud of Ava. This had been bothering them for such a long time. This was an important moment for the two of them. It’s no secret that these two are very close. Despite the size of Gilbert’s family, he and Una are close to all their children, you don’t quite know how they manage it.

After a while, Ava and Gilbert pull themselves together, straighten themselves up, and wipe the tear away. Gilbert snorts inspecting the tears on top of his hand. “Oi—Airson gaol na Athair Mhòir!! I have a feeling this is going to be a ‘soggy’ day, isn’t it??” And the three of your spiral into collected laughter. It’s true. There have been a lot of emotion and tears just in the past sixteen or hours. There is bound to be more.

While you were next to Gilbert, you decided to give him your journal so he could read over. Ava helped here and there during your down time when teaching, but Gilbert has the last say on the matter. You don't plan on publishing it or anything, but it would be nice to have for some of the children who no longer live here in the Steppe. As all three of you stand to your feet Gilbert tucks the journal carefully into a satchel on his side. “Now. I promise I won’t tell anyone, but you're going to have to explain that to your sister. And she’s been in a rather fowl mood lately!”

Ava sighs deeply and rolls their eyes. “Trust me. I know.”

Gilbert huffs a small jolly chuckle and then pats Ava on their shoulder. “Oh! She’s been cross with you too, has she??” Ava nods slowly looking slightly guilty and Gilbert nods to the entrance of the tent. “Go on, cub. Get plenty of rest before tonight. I know you were up for patrol this morning right after the celebration. Shona said that you haven't been back to bed. You must be tired.”

You quickly grab their arm and whip them around to face you.“You haven't slept since this yesterday?!” As they turn to face you, you notice the bags under their eyes and look at them scoldingly. “AVA!! That isn’t good!”

They shrug and sneer looking embarrassed. “I was too worked up to get rest!!! My thoughts kept me away!”

You smack their thick muscly arm with a growl. “That’s still not good for you!!!!”

Red takes over their face and ears making Gilbert burst into laughter again. “We better find you one like this one!”

Ava Lets out a muffled embarrassed moan. “PAPA, STOP IT! Your embarrassing me!!”

—————————————

The rest of the afternoon flew by, before you know it, it’s dinner time. Muriel and you keep Ava company tonight before the story. Shona looked to be very upset by this, but she’ll get over it after tonight…. or so you hope…

Ava thankfully got some sleep and looked much more rested. But they still looked so jittery, they barely ate. Muriel and you look to each other, concerned. “Ava, you alright?” He asks, placing his hand on their shoulder.

Ava exhales hard, then nods with a wry grin. “Here.” He hands them the flatbread. “You need to eat.”

Ava shakes their hand, not very interested in food. But you chime in quickly. “NO! Take it! You need something in your stomach. Bread is light, but it will at least hold you over. You don’t need to pass out up there!”

With a huff they take it and give Muriel a knowing look, making him snort. “Yes… She’s always like this. Little mother hen.”

“Pffft! Like you are one to talk!” You grumble under your breath making Ava chuckle at your little bantering.

After a while, it was time for Ava and Gilbert to get ready. You can tell, they were still really nervous, but they had determination as well. Everyone proceeded to gather around the fire, like they did every night, making an aisle in the middle. Tonight, instead of the back where Muriel and you usually sit, Muriel recommends that the two of you sit up in front to give Ava some moral support if needed. You feel proud of him being willing to be there for them. Muriel sits on the outside opposite of the aisle to make sure the younger kids and shorter people can see.

The time has at last come and all the Kokhurian’s erupt in cheers and chants “Master Speaker” in Rune. Gilbert enters the tent with his embroidered shawl over his shoulders, his headpiece with elk antlers on top of his head, and grey face paint over his eyelids. The crowd hushes instantly as he throws up his hand like they normally do. He draws in a deep breath and you even catch as he gives Una a small wink before he starts to speak. “As the Celebration draws to an end, I must thank you all for coming once again. I know the journey to the Shining Steppe can be long, sometimes treacherous. But it is all worth it in the end to see all your wonderful faces and to shield some light during these dark nights.…… This gathering was a particularly special year for all of us. Was it not?!” The crowd happily cheers, claps, and trills in agreement with him. “... Not only did we have one of our own return to us… Our fallen heroes Artturi and Glenna’s cub, Muriel.” Gilbert gestures towards him, making him sink down into his cloak as joyful proud eyes fall on him, and you take his hand and smile brightly, making him relax a little as Gilbert continues to speak. “... But we had an excellent Midnight Celebration!! We have honored Kok’s spirit with wonderful casts! Such love and pure soulful auras that was shared last night on the hillside..” Eyes now fall on both of you suddenly; you slightly blanch and shrink into yourself too but a few people reach their arms over and pat your’s and Muriel’s back and shoulder. “....But that is not all that is special this year!!” The crowd now turn their eyes back to Gilbert, looking rather perplexed, eager for him to answer after his dramatic pause. “... This year, I have a new person to help tell the stories of old...” Gasps and whispers ring throughout the crowd. Anxiously you wait for Ava’s introduction. Gilbert raises his hand towards the tent’s entrance with a wide proud, jolly, smile. “... They began their trials tonight for a lost artform of Illuminator. I am proud to present to you…..” Every single head whips around to the back of the tent, eager to see the face of the new apprentice. Ava steps forwards and starts to walk down the aisle and shocked sharp gasps erupt from almost everyone’s mouth, some talk among themselves. “... My own child.... one of my oldest cubs, Ava.”

You can’t help but feel incredibly giddy inside and to try and contain your excitement. They look so dashing!! Keeping their scarf around their neck, their fur cloak is replaced with a smaller shawl, similar to Gilbert’s. They also have a small wreath-like crown made up of herbs and grass on top of their head, and gray paint also on their eyelids and partly on their bottom lip, and runs down their chin. You catch a glimpse of Una, Keavy, Shawn and Shona’s faces, all with such very mixed emotions. Shawn's eyes are bright and full of excitement, Keavy and Una are clasping their mouths in utter shock. But Shona, she looks like she can’t believe her eyes. Such sorrow and turmoil in her face. Una looks at all her older children and whispers, “Did any of you know about this?” All shake their head vigorously, but Shona can’t take her eyes off Ava as they walk down the center aisle. Ida pats Shona’s leg and they seem to snap out of their trace and she shakes her head as well.

Gilbert brings up his hand once more, making the crowd hush once again as Ava stands next to him and he switches to Rune. “... Fellow Elders. Ava wishes to present tonight’s story with me. We humbly ask for your approval.”

With a nod Gilbert cues Ava to take center stage. Expecting them to look terrified, you are happy to find that they look rather calm and confident as they place their hand right over their heart and give a shallow bow. There is a slight pause, but then Una starts to a very slow beat with her hand on the top of her thigh. Soon other elders fall into the steady beat making Ava smile, the more people start to drum, the wider their smile. You can only guess that this was some kind of approval for them to go on. Soon everyone starts to drum and clap in unison, young and old. And they quickly glance at you and Muriel. You give them a small thumbs up with a large stupid smile, and Muriel grins reassuringly.

Gilbert brings up his hand once more, mirroring Ava’s humble wide smile and the tent is quiet once again. “..... Ava has told me to ask that you should all prepare yourselves. This form of storytelling has not been seen for over a hundred years.”

Before they both start, Gilbert whispers to them. “Ya’ ready, cub?” Ava takes in a deep breath, then looks to Shona. She obviously has no idea what's going on, but despite herself, she gives her twin sister a small forced smile. She seems apprehensive, but it must feel good to see Ava in that costume up there with their father.

Shona’s smile seems to give Ava the last bit of confidence that they needed and they finally nod sharply to their father, determination in their eyes. As Gilbert takes his spot they move towards the side and conjure their magic. Ava lowers the light of the fire behind them so that everyone can see what was happening.

As soon as the light dims, Ava casts the shadow puppets, but they do this on a completely different level than you ever can. The large tent becomes filled with the dark blue shimmery illusions, an atmospheric haze, and even smoky wisps. Soft gasps utter from the crowd, some children are frightened at first. But as soon as Gilbert starts to speak, they refocus on the story, mesmerized but the visuals.

“...Before there was the Steppe. Before there were seas dividing lands. Before creatures roamed Mother Earth. Before there was even time itself….. there were two beings that existed through space....” Ava blows on their palm and creates a small layer of smoke as their father continues. Making two human-like figures. But they looked fluid, flexible and morph their shapes. “...Here, there live two celestial beings, named Earth and Sky. The two would dance, make love, and travel through all the different realms and cosmos together, and they loved each internally…..

Earth was timid and quiet, yet very strong, sturdy, and often stubborn. When she was tested, she would quake and tremble terribly, and reminded others that she was not to be trifled with…

Sky was very patient and flexible, but also could turn at the slightest moment into a raging storm, unleashing his thunder and lightning. His moods are ever changing from dark to light.

…. One day Earth and Sky had a child together, a large bright star named Berko. They could not believe how much their love could grow as their child came into light. But as Berko grew brighter and hot, he became impatient and fiery. As he became old enough to go off by himself, he would often leave his parents behind. And shoot off alone though the cosmos, never giving much thought to his parent’s lessons. For he was much faster than Earth and Sky, and he became arrogant and believed that he knew more than the two ancient beings. One day he set out on a quest and seemed to be looking for something. When his parents asked what it was for, he would say, “It’s none of your concern!”, and shot off.

Mother Earth and Father Sky were saddened by their son’s arrogance. They had only showered him with love, affection, and tried to teach him well. But it is to be expected of such a young being. “One day. He will see, Mother.” Said Father Sky to his wife as she wept, fearing for the safety of her son.”

Berko traveled far and wide, exploring across many realms and met many strange beings. He even traveled through the abyss, a place even his parents never dared to enter. Berko was chased after by the monsters that dwell in the shadow, but he thought it was all fun and games. They hated the light he shed from his body and it even hurt their eyes. They loathed the ignorant start for his actions and swore revenge. But he did not care, nor was he afraid. “I’m too fast for those monsters anyway.”, he’s gloat. Feeling invincible, he laughed in the monster's face. He had many adventures, but still felt almost empty inside. Like something was missing. This feeling grew and grew and Berko started to feel sad and lonely, unsure what this feeling was or how to stop it. One day he met a slow and patient comet. Berko finally stopped shooting across the cosmos and gazed at her icy beauty. In that moment he had no need to search anymore, for he found his one true love, a love that he wanted like his parents had. They were complete opposites, but their attraction was unstoppable.

The two soon wed. Happy to see their son finally happy, Earth and Sky welcomed Comet. But Berko’s Mother and Father warned them. “If you two are to produce children, I fear that they will not be immortal. They will not be able to fly like we do. Nothing would keep themselves from falling into the dark abyss where terrible monsters hide. For fire and ice did not mix well.” Mother Earth said to her only child.

But once again, Berko did not care and ignored his parent’s advice, for he and Comet were young and madly in love. “We do not need your warnings, we do not need your help. I am not afraid of the monsters that lie in the dark abyss.” Said Berko as he and Comet held hands and flew off into the different realms, leaving behind Mother Earth and Father Sky...”

Gilbert does his best to not be distracted by the gorgeous shadow puppets that Ava is making. It’s clear that he is fighting back so many emotions right now and pauses for a few seconds. Ava glances back at him, and he shakes his head and presses on like the true story teller he is.

“... Soon the Berko and Comet bore a child. Wee babe made the two celestial beings so very happy, and strengthened their love for one another. Berko started to understand what his parents meant in their lessons. “Perhaps they do understand more than I had thought.” Pondered Berko.

However the joy soon fell, it eventually became clear, like Mother Earth and Father Sky had warned, the child was mortal, had skin hair and fur over their bodies, and was unable to fly Berko and Comet. Comet constantly had to hold in her arms and she was determined to never let them go.

But unfortunately, the child grew and grew and got heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Eventually, Comet became so fatigued from carrying the child in her arms. The child was also tired of being held. They became irritated, restless, wiggled and kicked. Comet did her very best, but it wasn’t enough. She was unable to keep the child in her arms, and they fell down into the abyss. Berko and Comet dived down to catch their baby, but sadly, they were quickly gobbled up by monsters that were hiding in the darkness. Berko pulled his wife from the darkness in fear of both of their lives. The monsters showed their faces from out of the shadows, smirking evilly, very pleased that they finally got their revenge. Berko had all but forgotten his terrible actions, and pleaded with monsters to return his child. But laughed at his face, slithering and slinking away… Never to be seen again…

.... Berko and Comet were so devastated that they lost their first child. Heartbroken, lost, and terrified, the two sought help from Berko’s parents, Mother Earth and Father Sky. Berko feared that he would be rejected, the way he treated them was awful. Comet and he were so arrogant as to not heed his parents' warning. He felt like he did not deserve their love. But Mother Earth and Father Sky welcomed them both with open arms. They loved him, despite his foolishness. They too were so very heartbroken about the loss of the wee babe, this was their son’s first child. Berko and Comet became fearful and cried, for they were expecting another child. They too would be mortal and unable to fly forever.

Mother Earth and Father Sky then pondered on this dilemma. None of them could not bear to have another child lost to the abyss. Mother Earth then said to Comet and Berko, “Once the child comes, I will hold them.” She inhaled deeply and became a large sphere. “... This way, I am much bigger than your arms. I can hold thousands of children. They can even eat my plants that grow on my body. They will be safe here.”

Unconvinced, Comet shakes her head. “Yes, you are much larger and stronger than I. But what if they jump or wiggle free? You can not hold them down, Great Mother. For you will have no arms in this form.”

“But I can,” interjected Father Sky, as he became transparent and airy, covering all of his wife. “... I will wrap myself around Mother. I will hold them down. My eyes will even keep watch over them. Keep them safe.”

Berko was shocked at his parents' willingness to sacrifice so much just to help the young couple and his children. The gesture was too great and protested, consumed with such powerful guilt. “... But if you hold down our children, you both will have to stay in this realm forever. You will not be able to travel ever again.”

Father Sky hugged his son, tightly with a large smile. “Mother and I would trade our immortality for you and these children, Berko. That is what it is to be a parent.”

Comet then started to sob uncontrollably, “....But if… if we give you our children, we will not get to see them all the time…. I so wanted to watch them grow.” All four were quiet for a moment. This was true, Berko and Comet would not be able to see them and they’re lives will also be very short…. But there was no other solution. The children would perish without Mother Earth and Father Sky.

With a heavy heart, Berko and Comet eventually agreed that Great Mother Earth and Great Father Sky would take the children on as their own. Soon the day came, Berko and Comet bore twins and named them, Ainmhidh and Daonna.

Comet left them on Mother’s surface, breaking her heart, and she continued to weep for her children. In doing so, she created various bodies of water. From vast oceans, and seas, to fast moving rivers, and even small trickling streams. She cried so much, half her body was melted in the process, and water covered much of Mother Earth's body. Unknowingly in return, Comet provided nourishment for the children. They will always live through her and they will always be a part of one another.

Berko shattered himself into billions of stars to help brighten Father Sky’s body, so the children had something to look at during the night. Giving them guidance and light. Something they can look up to in wonder.

To this day, you can still see Comet and Berko. They still come and visit, you see. However, they cannot stop moving, if they will burn out they will die. Comet will sluggishly float over Father Sky’s body, leaving a trail of icy tears behind her, reluctant to leave. Berko will shoot across the horizon with his thousands of pieces at night, catching glimpses of his legacy live on in the care of Mother Earth and Father Sky.

Remember what our Great Mother and Father sacrificed for his child sake; And Remember children, what your parents would sacrifice for your future… Heed your parent’s warnings.”

Suddenly as the story ends, Ava rushes all the illusions and smoke back into the palms of their hands and they disappear. With an exhale, the fire brightens back up, filling the tent with bright light once more. The music stops, and the tent is stunned silent. Ava scans the crowd, awaiting for someone to say something, starting to become nervous.

Finally, a elder woman's voice in the back cries, “Aontaich an Soillsichear!!”, (Approve the Illuminator). As you glance back, you see that it was the elderly woman that serves the Kokhurian ale every night at dinner time. She has tears in her eyes but a large smile dances on her lips. Then another voice repeats that, then another one, then another until the entire tent fills with the same chant and people cheering on.

Ava's smile is so happy and wide, showing nearly all their teeth, and they fall to their knees, losing all of their composure. Gilbert covers his mouth with his hand and tries to hold back his tears, but is unable to control all this emotion. Pull Ava back to their feet, he wraps his arms around them and they return the embrace. Ava starts to softy sob. As they let go, they quickly straighten back up for one last moment as they both bow together and the crowd goes wild. Una, Keavy and Shawn are all crying together. Shona quickly dashes to the front, wrapping her arms around Ava, nearly knocking them over. Overcome with joy and sorrow, Shona and Ava just sob together. Shona lets go of her sister’s body, sweetly cups their face and presses her forehead to theirs as Ava holds her elbows, the gray paint running down their cheek from their eyes.

You even Muriel’s arms wrap around you and press a quick kiss on the top of your head. As you glance up, you see his eyes fighting back the tears. He was proud of Ava too. Proud of what a difference the two of you made for his cousin. it wouldn't have been possible without his help. He hadn’t known them for very long, but somehow they formed a bond. You both had.

Ava pulls out of Shona’s arms then rushes over to you and pulls you to your feet, you glance at Muriel unsure what is happening as they drag you to the front. “Wait—! What?! GAH!!” Both Gilbert and Ava lift you up off your feet by your arms and Gilbert announces, “Ava wants everyone to know… ‘This would have not been possible without this little NewComer!’.” Your body feels suddenly feverish and you just want to hide under a rock. This is too much attention. Gilbert laughter fills the tent. “Who knew that it takes being friends with my Ava is to beat them at Brùth Carachd!!” Everyone starts to burst into laughter and cheers and they finally bring you back to your feet, your face is very blanched by all this attention once again. But as you look over to Muriel he stands with the others, cheering and clapping for you too. Ava arm’s embrace your torso and their biggest hug, lifting you off your feet. Soon Una, Shawn and Keavy even joins this hug. Una even kisses your burning hot cheek.

Shona is just standing apart completely confused at all of this. Ava finally puts you back down once they realize Shona and look sheepish once again. Ida then jumps on Ava giggling and so happy for their sibling. “Ava! You’ve gotta show me how to do that!!!” She says cutely giggling and Ava is pulled away by a few enthusiastic elders, leaving you and Shona alone. In your peripheral, you can see Muriel as he becomes uneasy with her just standing there, unsure what she will do or say and he tries to gently push his way through the crowd to your rescue. Shona darts between you and Ava as she is being paraded around by Ronin, Gilbert, and Shawn singing a very merry tune once again. She shakes her head in disbelief, her eyes glassy and red from the tears. “So… so this—this… This is what you’ve two been doing together?.... You were teaching Ava… magic??” You take a step back feeling a bit uncomfortable under her piercing gaze and glancing frequently to Muriel who is still pushing through.

You still feel very tense being around her, but it does feel good for her to know the truth. “Y-...Yes. This is what I wanted to tell you before. But Ava asked me not to.”

“But, why??” Shona snaps furrowing her brow.

Preparing yourself for them to yell at you, stiffening your shoulder and hands. You swallow hard and answer. “... They were afraid of letting people down. Especially you. So we stayed quiet about it.” Shona’s eyes flutter and her lip starts to tremble and you can’t help but feel empathetic. “I—I am sorry if you’re hurt. But—You can think of it as a surprise in a way—”

Once again, you feel your lungs become breathless as arms are suddenly thrown over your shoulders. You must be dreaming. This… this isn’t happening…. You turn your head and see a dark head of hair braided long with a pink ribbon and earring tassels tickle your nose and neck. You can feel her tear drops as they pepper your neck. Shona. The person who claimed to hate your guts, is hugging you right now and has no signs of letting go.

Warm tears trickle down her face and pepper your neck. “You… you gave my Ava back their voice…”

To be continued….

FINALLY! This chapter was a bitch and a half let me tell you. We al almost done! just a few more chapters away!! YAY!!! =D

I hope you guys enjoy my hot trash! You all make it worth it! I love you all!!

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #muriel fanfic #journey back to the south #madllamamomma #rhemi the apprentice #muriel x mc #muriel x oc #muriel x rhemi #swf #ao3 #my hot trash #for my hungry trash pandas #part 9~

43 notes · View notes

moth-and-raven · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER THREE

Pounding on the door before it slams into the wall with enough force to rattle the window panes. A cool hand in mine, pulling me into the dark, resting on my shoulder just a little too long as frantic directions are whispered into my ear. Adrenaline urging me on: I’ve done nothing wrong but I have to get out of here. Skidding to a halt, panting for breath, getting my bearings as the streets turn familiar, wondering how much of myself I left behind as the silver moon against my chest grows cold...

At the very least, the hike back to the palace gives me time to think. And I have so much to think about.

I must’ve led the guards right to him. Either that or someone in the bar tipped them off, which is even worse. He’s being so careless, letting so many people see him. He swore the neighborhood didn’t think much of the palace, so he was perfectly safe, but tonight proved him wrong.

I hope he escaped. Despite his recklessness, I don’t think he really wants to be captured. And I certainly don’t want him to be. I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to tell Nadia I’d seen him, and now, after talking to him, and talking to him, and talking to him… Are my loyalties so fluid, that one night can change them?

My stomach twists as I remember his smile, his laugh, the cheeky lift of his brow when he made jokes that only landed if your mind was in the same gutter as his. Mine was, every time.

I’m not used to that.

He was friendly from the start, polite and seemingly interested in what I had to say. He led me to a quiet table in the back of the bar, away from the clusters of patrons playing cards and telling outlandish stories. One of them hailed him as we passed, with an invitation to join in, but he waved them off. He asked again if I wanted anything as I sat down: I don’t drink, and I told him so. He smiled and brought me some water instead, along with a beverage for himself that smelled strongly of salt and tonic water. I was able to get a few sips in before I fell so deeply into our conversation that I forgot it was there.

It’s not that I can’t talk to people. I wouldn’t be a very good shopkeeper otherwise, even if transactions are cordial with a regular script most of the time. Of course I can’t be sure how I appear to others, but I think I come across fairly pleasantly. On the surface, at least. And that’s okay with me. It’s when I want anything else, anything more meaningful, that problems start to arise.

It doesn’t happen often, that desire to go further. Just wanting to be friends is rare, and beyond that are dangerous waters I am ill-suited to explore. Dating, even flirting, are mysterious and foreign. I don’t understand them or people who do them like love is expected and commonplace. Like the fascination I feel when I visit the menagerie in the Heart District, it’s as though I’m observing another species through a wrought-iron fence. Even romance novels seem like instructions for a situation that will never happen.

Only once before have I met someone I considered a possibility, and that was years ago now. He was a musician who played for crowds in the marketplace and would duck into the shop sometimes. I felt awkward at first, not knowing if I should talk to him or just let him linger, but eventually he struck up a conversation, and I responded. It took months of jokes and friendly banter, but I worked up the courage to ask if he wanted to go to dinner sometime. And he laughed. And he said there was someone else, and that I should’ve known that.

And he was right.

I haven’t seen him since. He made his point clear: no one could ever be interested in me. They have no reason to be. I know I shouldn’t have been so affected, but it really just confirmed what I was afraid of all along: I am, at best, an acquired taste. I'm not feminine and I don't try to be, even though people read me as female. No one would describe me as beautiful. My face is too round, my body too fat, my hair too short, my eyes too small, my hands too big… I'm too much. I'm quick to judge, quicker to hide, emotional and hard to live with. And clearly, I tend to assume the worst of people.

I know all of this. It's just easier to make jokes and cry about it later, where no one can see me. It's better to beat people to the punch and take off the pressure of pretending to care. It makes more sense to prepare for the worst and get it than hope for something else and be disappointed. That's why it doesn't surprise me when Asra leaves: why would he stay? I'm nothing but a burden to him. I can't imagine being anything else.

At this point, it only hurts when I expect things to be different.

It must be near dawn now. Julian and I talked for hours. Of course he asked how I’d found him, if the necklace had anything to do with it. I said as much as I could without getting too technical, but that led to him asking about magic in general, and my magic in particular, and how I’d learned it and what I did with it and what, if anything, I’d done before I could wield it effectively. From there we talked about other jobs, what he had done and where. He apprenticed with a famous Prakran doctor, he said, and honed his skills on battlefields across the continent. I was pleased that I knew most of the battles he mentioned, and I think I impressed him by being able to ask which side he assisted.

And he asked about me. I learned a long time ago that people don’t like knowing I can’t remember most of my life, so I built a lie that feels like truth: I was born in a small village in the mountains south of Vesuvia, which I decided because I’m pale, though not as pale as he is, and the shape of my body makes more sense if I needed insulation from the cold. I came to the city right on the tail of the Plague, and bought the shop cheap since so many people had died. But it didn’t become a shop until about two years ago, after Asra brought a bunch of magical herbs and crystals back from one of his trips and we decided to sell them. He wanted to know how I’d crossed paths with Asra; I said only that he was one of the first people I met here.

I never asked about the murder.

The tavern emptied around us. Julian told me it was called the Rowdy Raven, for an old bird that had once lived in the rafters and alerted customers whenever a guard was about to enter. I asked why they would need to be alerted, and he leaned across the table and stage-whispered that some people around here had reputations for bad behavior. I couldn’t help but laugh with him.

If only that raven had still been around. If only someone with a bad reputation hadn’t tried to save their own skin by sacrificing his.

The sun follows me up the steps of the palace. I hope I can catch Portia and ask her to let me sleep today, but I don’t see her when I walk in and I’m too tired to search properly. The plushness of the bed doesn’t bother me now: I fall asleep almost as soon as I lay down.

As I drift off, it crosses my mind that Julian was flirting with me.

Or trying to, at least. God knows I didn’t give him anything to work with.

------

I dream of him.

The beak of his plague doctor’s mask becomes a crescent moon hanging low in the sky. He’s reaching for me, reaching for me, reaching across waves into a plume of smoke and ash for me and I can’t reach him back no matter how far I stretch. And then he’s holding my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me like I’ve never even imagined being kissed before, and then we’re locked in a passionate embrace and he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder to muffle a grunt as he cums and even in my sleep, I blush scarlet to think that I could be responsible for that. And then the scratches I leave on his back bleed streams of red, and unbearable loneliness, pain rooted so deeply it would take a miracle to loosen, soaks into my bones until I choke on it. I wake up gasping for breath in a beam of midday sunlight.

Someone knocks on my door. I didn’t even take my clothes off when I got back, so I stumble to my feet to answer it. Portia smiles brightly at me and nods down the corridor.

“Up and at ‘em, Reyja!”

I peer blearily at her in response, with thoughts of Julian still clinging to me.

“Ooh, late night? You’ll have to tell me all about it on our way into town.”

“What? Why?”

She takes my arm and leads me towards the entrance hall. “Countess Nadia wants to catch the noon rush at the market with the Masquerade announcement, and she thought you should be there.”

I already know about the fucking Masquerade, I think irritably, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Plus you could check on your shop while we’re there.”

That’s true. I didn’t pack enough to remain at the palace for as long as I’m expected to, so I could take the opportunity to grab some things. I’ll need them: I will see this through to the end. For Julian’s sake.

I’m in too deep. I think I’ve been in too deep from the moment I didn’t arrest him, or maybe from the moment I let him walk away from my shop unimpeded. It will never work. Even if I had a chance with him, which I don’t, he’s on the run for murder. Anything we started would be doomed to end, either in tragedy or with his stealthy departure from the city to which I’m still tethered. And in any case, I would never want to distract him with all of my weird hang-ups. He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.

On the carriage ride to the market square, I do my best to shed the despair lurking in the corners of my mind. I can't tell if I succeed or not. As Portia rushes off to assist Nadia in her preparations, I slip around the corner to the back entrance of the shop.

And I freeze. Someone has been here.

The logical part of me says that it was probably Muriel, Asra’s closest friend. He swings by to check on things every so often when Asra’s away. He doesn’t like it when I notice him, but I know he’s there and he knows I’m there and we agree to ignore each other. Usually, he leaves quickly, sometimes putting myrrh on the windowsills or tracing runemarks on the doors and charging them with protective magic.

But the energy spilling from the shop now doesn’t feel like his, and he never goes inside when he visits.

Yet I still recognize it.

No.

Please tell me he didn’t…

I open the door to Julian’s heavy black coat and leather uniform, his half-covered gaze shifting from disappointment to panic to guilt as he staggers back from me. Thank god we’re not out front. The South End at night was one thing, but to come here? At the busiest time of day? He’ll get himself caught if he isn’t careful and I cannot let that happen. The palace is thirsty for blood and it cannot be his. Regardless of what he thinks of me, I have to protect him. At least until I know if he’s innocent or not. Even after that... I shove him inside and quickly shut the door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, desperately hoping that no one saw him. If he didn’t wear such an obvious “I’m a fugitive” outfit…

“W-well, I was, ah. I happened to be in the neighborhood and—”

“In the neighborhood? Why?!”

He still doesn’t give me a proper answer, stumbling over several sentences before settling on one: “I know you must be suspicious, catching me breaking in again. I swear on my… Hmm, what would you like me to swear on? Well, anyway, I swear I didn’t take anything.”

“I’m not worried about that!”

“Aren’t you? That could open you up to all sorts of trouble.”

“Oh, I’m going to be in trouble? Nadia is outside in the market square right now! You would’ve walked right into her and half of her guards.”

"Did she suspect anything with you coming back so late?"

"What? No? I didn't tell anyone where I was going, or why."

"Good, good. No other trouble? No one followed you or, or harassed you, or—?"

This is not the most pressing issue right now. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He lets out a long breath and some of the tension in the room fades. "Thank god. I felt awful, the way we left things. I just had to know you were alright.”

Oh. I deflate and step back from him. I suppose it makes sense to come here for that, since he couldn’t walk up to the palace and ask for me. But he shouldn’t have put himself in so much danger after such a close call. And what was his plan anyway, to just stay here until I came back? Still, at least he’s hidden at the moment. Both of our secrets are safe. “I’m— Thank you, but…”

He grins through his embarrassment and fixes the collar of his coat; it had flipped up when I pushed him through the door. “If you ask me, we ought to stop meeting like this.”

I can’t stop the blush from flooding my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I just wonder how many crimes I can commit in front of you before you get fed up and drag me to the Countess yourself.”

Don’t do this. You’ve fallen for it before. “You’ll have to try something besides trespassing.”

“Oho? Shall we experiment?”

Oh my god. What the hell is he doing? “I don’t really think you should be adding to your rap sheet right now.”

“Are you going to report me, Reyja?”

“Are you asking me to report you, Julian?”

He laughs. “You can do whatever you like with me. I’m rather agreeable.”

Seriously, what the hell is he doing? “Sure you are.”

“How can I prove it? Hmm. Are you quite certain I didn’t take anything? You have some very nice little crystals here, so easy to slip into a pocket and waltz away with.”

“So your one-up from trespassing is petty thievery?”

He shucks off his coat and lets it fall to the floor. “Why don’t you search me and find out?”

Is he really trying to flirt with me? Again? Or is he trying to goad me into something, so he can mock me for thinking I would ever have a chance, like the last guy did. I can stand a lot of things, but being mocked cuts me to the core every time.

I could run. I could laugh at him first. I could do what I’m supposed to be doing and tell the guards he’s here.

But— but he’s asking. He asked. Wouldn’t it be his fault, if I took him up on the offer and he hadn’t actually meant it?

And if he does mean it…?

“Alright.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I’m as surprised as he is that I did. But after he blinks it away, he smiles. “No need to be gentle,” he says, beckoning me closer. “Search until you're satisfied. I won’t bite unless you tell me to.”

He’s calling my bluff with invitations like that. How many times am I going to have to learn this lesson? Shouldn’t once have hurt enough? I need to back down, apologize, run and hide like I always do and never see or speak to him again. I shouldn’t be seeing or speaking to him anyway, given that I’m responsible for bringing him to justice.

But I’m in way, way too deep. So deep I can’t see the surface anymore. All I can see is him, his broad smile and cream-pale skin, the curls of auburn hair that fall over one eye, his arms spread as if to draw me into a warm embrace…

I move to stand in front of him. He’s so tall; his collarbone is at my eye level. But he’s watching with interest, chewing on his lip as he waits for me to do something.

Am I imagining it, or is he blushing too?

Physical contact is a luxury. I barely get more than a pat on the back or a handshake most of the time. To have an open request to touch him feels inappropriate, much more intimate than our few hours of conversation merit. I must be blazing scarlet, for how hot I feel. But I reach up and rest my hand on his shoulder, then run it down his whole arm. He’s strong. I can tell that even through the thick leather of his uniform. He shifts so I can feel the other side too, his forearm and his wrist. His palm, his long, slender fingers.

The heavy black lines and scar tissue of the murderer’s brand, as much a part of him now as everything else.

I hold my breath as I circle around him. He has such beautiful broad shoulders. I wonder, briefly, if he could carry me, and flinch away from the idea just as quickly. Even in my imagination, it’s too farfetched to expect. He almost turns around with me, but stops with only a tremble to give him away. I keep one hand on his waist and skate the other over his back, following the line of his spine beneath his jacket.

I flush even more when I recall my dream, how I carved bloody crescents into his skin in the throes of—

He sinks to his knees, breathing hard with tousled hair and a shaky grin, hands bound behind his back, chest bare and gleaming with sweat, peering up at me as he waits for my next command.

He flexes into my touch and I startle, drawing back. He couldn’t have known what I was thinking, could he? Of course not. God, but I hate how good he looks like that, how eager and desperate to please he is, how simply and completely he trusts whoever he’s submitting to.

And I hate how jealous I am that that person isn’t me.

No. No, no, no. Stop it. Stop it! Why do I torment myself like this? I have no right to want him to want me. He's so ridiculously out of my league. But I have to keep him here, keep him safe. I’ll bear the pain of being laughed at if it means he won’t be caught.

I follow the crest of his hip to face him again. To my surprise, he’s beet-red, looking anywhere but down. I see why immediately.

This can’t be real.

“Um.”

He laughs, not nearly as self-conscious as I expected him to be. “You should be flattered.”

“I-I mean, uh, I am, but—”

“Mm?”

I swallow hard, willing words to come to my aid. “You like this?”

“I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean.”

That is what I mean, but it can’t be true. “You don’t know me well enough to be that excited just to see me.”

“Yes, well. It’s been a long time since…” He trails off. My mind eagerly fills in the blanks: since anyone’s touched me like you can. But he doesn’t voice whatever he’s thinking, and he’s definitely not thinking that. “And as I said, I don’t dislike things like this.”

Things like this. How familiar is he with things like this, I wonder. Regardless, I’m sure he’s well ahead of me. My experience is limited to books I hide when I’m done with them and however vivid my imagination decides to be. That’s my experience with everything, really.

“Or people like you.”

What? What?

He’s looking at me again, leaning down slightly to meet my eyes with a hint of a genuine smile, and—

“Ilya?”

We turn as one, both trying to shield the other from whoever just spoke. Fuck, it’s—

“Pasha?”

Portia’s standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. I realize like a lightning strike why she seemed so familiar when we first met: despite their height difference, even more drastic than ours, they have the same nose, the same heavy-lidded eyes, the same wild red hair.

“Ilya, you idiot, what are you doing here?!”

“I was—”

“No, no, you have to go! You have to! If the Countess sees you, she’s gonna—”

“I know, I just—”

Portia breaks into a wild stream of Neviv, scrubbing angrily at her tears. Julian responds as he scoops his coat from the floor, conveniently hiding himself while he prepares to leave. It sounds like he’s apologizing, desperately, for something that’s weighed on him for a long time, but she doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood.

And suddenly, she sees me. “Reyja! I, um. Please, please don’t tell Nadia!”

It takes me a second to remember why she thinks I would. “Of course not.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! And I won’t say anything either, I promise. If my big dumb idiot brother can stay out of—”

The royal salute cuts across her voice. Nadia’s announcement must be starting, which means that all this has to end. Now will be the safest time for him to escape, with everyone milling around to see what all the fuss is about. All three of us come to that conclusion at the same time.

“I’ll go with him,” Portia says, eyeing Julian testily. “Gotta give him a piece of my mind.”

“And I’ll deserve every insult you can throw at me, Pashenka, but—”

“No buts!”

Julian pauses, standing between us, and looks back with an unreadable expression. If I didn’t know better…

“I’ll catch up with you after I get him out of here,” Portia says to me. “Nadia wants you with the rest of the palace staff up on the dais. You should be able to go around the back and no one will notice. Hopefully no one will notice us either.” She grumbles something else in Neviv and scowls, then peeks outside and looks up and down the street before grabbing Julian by the elbow and hauling him out of the shop.

They’ve disappeared by the time I close the door.

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

prev || next

#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #reyja north #julian devorak #moth & raven

3 notes · View notes

asrapal · 4 years

Text

will i wake tomorrow?

words: 853

genre: angst

warnings: death mention

characters: asra alnazar, julian devorak (strangers/platonic)

a/n: how did asra find out the apprentice was dead? here’s my take of the situation. (name comes from the song “will i?” from rent; full line is “will i wake tomorrow from this nightmare?”).

———

The Rowdy Raven was quiet - not surprising, considering how early it was. Julian sat alone in a table tucked back in the corner, circling the rim of his Salty Bitters with his finger. He was only half way through his first when the door swung open. If Julian had been drinking, he would have choked.

Asra, the white-haired, purple-eyed wandering magician, had just wandering into the Rowdy Raven. Only he wasn’t wandering now; no, he strode with a purpose directly over to Julian, ignoring the curious glances of regulars as he sat down. “Julian.”

“Asra. It’s been a while since you’ve been in town.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You know who I am?”

Julian nodded. “Your apprentice spoke of you. And, truth be told, having either white hair and purple eyes is unusual enough. I imagine you’re the lucky one with both.”

Asra cracked a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned across the table towards Julian. “Where is my - er, our - apprentice? I brought them something from my travels that I think they’d like.”

Julian’s heart sank. Of course Asra didn’t know about what had happened. He looked down at his half-finished drink, feeling his hands shaking. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Here’s not the place, magician.” He glanced back up. Asra’s expression was inscrutable. He rose from the table, tossing a coin down next to his drink. “Walk with me, Asra. Or, rather, wander, as your title so famously implies.”

Asra frowned, but obeyed, rising to his feet and following the lanky doctor out of the tavern. The two walked in silence, the minutes stretched impossibly long as if by a temporal taffy maker. Asra’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped every time Julian went to pause, only to be disappointed when he continued on his way.

Finally, Julian stopped at the docks and motioned Asra to sit. Asra sat, heart slamming painfully against his ribs. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. “What aren’t you telling me, Julian?” He hated the way his voice trembled as if he was once again the scared little kid living under the docks.

“Asra...” Julian sighed. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared out into the sea. “Oh, Asra. I am so sorry. Our apprentice...” he trailed off, fighting back tears of his own.

Asra gripped his arm and forcefully turned Julian to look at him. “What. Happened?”

Tears fell from Julian’s eyes. “...they died of the plague. And I couldn’t save them. I am so, so sorry, Asra.”

Asra’s world shattered. His grip on Julian went limp. He felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs and his blood has been let from his veins. His head spun like a carriage wheel and he doubled over himself, clutching his head as if that would calm the nausea. He was vaguely aware of Julian rubbing his back, murmuring apologies mixed with words of comfort. Julian’s touch broke him. He sobbed, shoulders heaving with each gasp for breath that wouldn’t come, lungs burning as if he had downed a shot of exceptionally strong liquor. He sobbed until tears wouldn’t come anymore and his pulse felt like a drumbeat in his head. He struggled to catch his breath, chest shaking and rattling laboriously. Julian’s hand slowed to a stop.

Asra wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Where’s...where’s their body?” he croaked.

“Their body was burned, with the rest of the plague victims at the Lazaret. We made notes where everyone’s ashes were placed, so that families could grieve when this is all over. If it ever is.”

“Tell me where.” He turned to look at Julian. “Please.”

Julian reached into his coat pocket and took out a small scrap of parchment, his messy writing littering the page. “I copied it from the official records and kept it with me ever since. I knew you would return.” He passed the note to Asra. “And I would be the one to tell you what happened, or I would die trying.”

Asra took it from him and scanned it before fixing his gaze across the water. The Lazaret stood there, cold and callous. Asra rose, tucking the paper into his shirt. “I’m going. To see them.”

Julian rose quickly. “Asra, no. The Lazaret is still contagious.”

He whirled on Julian. “I don’t care!” he screamed, sound every bit a wounded animal. “I’m going. Don’t try to stop me.” He turned and strode down the dock, looking for a gondola. Julian let him go with a shake of his head and turned to leave.

Asra hailed the first empty gondola he saw. “The Lazaret,” he said to the gondolier. His tone allowed no argument, and they set off across the water.

It was too long before they reached the shore. Asra tossed a pouch to the gondolier, heavy with coin, before sprinting up the beach. After a few minutes of searching, he found the place described in Julian’s note. He knelt down and began to dig, ignoring the cuts and scrapes that poured blood into the sand.

#the arcana #the arcana fic #asra alnazar #julian devorak #angst #asra #julian #the arcana apprentice

12 notes · View notes

ambroseshaw · 4 years

Text

🌙 — ALL ABOARD ! The HMS PROMETHEAN welcomes ( AMBROSE SHAW ) to the expedition in their capacity of ( THE MARKED ). They are ( FORTY YEARS OLD & CISMALE ) and might be painted as ( ZACH MCGOWAN ). When you strike up an acquaintance, address them as ( HE/HIM ). Their deeds on land precede their arrival — people say they are ( COMPELLING, CUNNING, and STEEL-WILLED ) but ( VAINGLORIOUS, RECLUSIVE, DISTRUSTFUL ) when the tide turns. Their purpose aboard the Promethean falls in line with ( ESCAPING THE SINS OF HIS PAST — BY ANY MEANS ).

HISTORY

I. Ambrose and his younger brother are born to a woman who has fallen from grace -- Elizabeth Shaw is by no means remarkable, but she used to be something, and from what Ambrose can remember of her, she always despaired over what she could have been. Her family was quick to turn their gaze when they discover she’s been leading a married man on an affair that has ended in a swelling at her belly and no ring on her finger. She’d been no older than eighteen when the cast her out, and just like that, any mention of her was struck from the books. She pleaded with her lover to show the kindness he’d promised with gentle words in her ear, but he was too poor to even entertain the thought of ruining his own bit of kingdom to try and maintain her own. Ambrose is born not long after Elizabeth Shaw has found her place in a brothel in the slums. It is here that he grows up, an ugly and unremarkable child, running secrets back and forth from room to room in exchange for the skill to read and write. His mother does not so much as acknowledge him, or William, for that matter.

II. He doesn’t know who does it, never bothered to ask, but when Elizabeth dies -- he is twelve, then, and William is nine -- someone comes to get her. That someone is a cousin by the name of Cunningham, distant but wealthy, who’d been close to Elizabeth. Older, yes, but close. He’d been searching for her a long time, he explains to her boys, who look so much like their mother it’s almost astonishing. Cunningham takes them both under his wing and sweeps them out of the slums of London without so much as a second thought. Ambrose doesn’t trust him, and the first year is... difficult. They know their letters, but neither of them are educated, and both brothers drag their heels in the dirt trying to hold onto the rowdy beasts that have taken root in their chests. It is not until Ambrose discovers his love of history that he truly settles, and the difference is like day and night. Cunningham plies Ambrose with historical texts and novels, and in exchange, Ambrose makes the effort to learn how to be charistmatic and good and pristine. Few know about his mother, and when Ambrose meets his uncles, his aunts, his grandparents, their scarcely mention her. It is terrifying, really, how easily people are wiped from existence, just that fast.

III. Cunningham buys him his education, and from that education stems advancement. Ambrose learns, grows, works, writes, becomes a professor first of Roman history, Egyptian history soon to follow, and with every piece he publishes or collaborates on, his fame only increases. At twenty-seven he is offered an observational position on an expedition to old Roman ruins in an effort to unearth hidden treasures, and he accepts without so much as a second thought. William accompanies him for these first few journeys, although his younger brother discovers he does not quite have the taste for it. Ambrose, on the other hand, is ravenous. Forget writing; he’d much rather dig as far his own two hands will take him. The expedition returns successfully, and the pieces of old art and sword pommels are hung up in a museum, displayed for and lauded by the wealthy. Ambrose develops an appetite. He funds and embarks on another expedition, this time to the Valley of the Kings, and does not return empty-handed. He is soon sponsored by the British Archaeological Association, and archaeology becomes his life. He returns to London after every trip with some sort of piece or tale, develops a reputation as an adventurer. The airy and stiff-backed Shaws of old are buried by Ambrose Shaw: charming, handsome, daring Adventurer of the world.

IV. The glory days are by far the best. His renown grows insurmountable, the height of mountains. Most turn their gaze from his more unsavory qualities -- his temper, his ever-present status as a bachelor, his sharp tongue and tendency to remark on ugly qualities in others -- in favor of the gleaming, the gold. The stories he tells, the shape of his frame, what he gives away, the parties he hosts. For each successful expedition it is nearly a guarantee that Ambrose Shaw will return and provide nectar of the gods alongside decent entertainment, and worse still, he’s good at that too. No one can touch him, even when he wants to, and he’d like to keep it that way. Over the years William appears on his doorstep, pleads with him to give it a rest (you’ll run yourself into the ground, Ambrose), but Ambrose ignores him in favor of emeralds in the tombs of dead queens and kings, blades polished until they’re silver anew. He doesn’t even attend Cunningham’s funeral, when the old man dies -- he’s on his second world tour by that time, and there’s not much point in turning a ship around for a dead man without much to him, is there?

V. It should be obvious by now that a fall always accompanies pride, and with Ambrose, his fall takes the shape of a dog-headed sculpture, painted all black, with eyes that shine like rubies in spite of the fact it lacks gems. Tucking it away without thought had been foolish, and putting it on display is worse, but it is put up in a glass case and he lays his head down on the pillow without nary a thought to his deeds. And then the restlessness comes. At first, it’s subtle. Sleep avoids him. He takes to long night walks. And then his body aches. He’s not old, necessarily, but the pains which plague him cannot be soothed even by the strongest of opium. He takes to keeping his hair down -- pulling it back reveals the strands easily pulled from his skull. And then what can only be described as moments of madness. He is always awoken from slumber by the hot breath of a hound on his face, gleaming white teeth in the dark, pink tongue lolling, its claws digging into his chest. It trails after him, from room to room, building to building, place to place. He shuts himself up in his apartments, stops hosting guests and holding parties, but becoming a glorified recluse only makes it worse. This hellhound is an awful fact of life, and in his ear it whispers every mistake he’s made, every foolish thing he’s ever said, every missed opportunity for glory. It haunts him,

PLOT POINTS

I’M THE BEAST / RATTLING THE CAGE, ASKING FOR SLAUGHTER. Why would an archeologist go to a place devoid of history? And ah, there’s the rub. Why would a man who’s dedicated his entire life to keeping his head bowed towards the dirt, always digging, suddenly see fit to turn his gaze towards the sky? Rebirth, renewal, repentance. I’d love to explore (through his relationships with other characters and his developing relationship with himself) the parallels between the man Ambrose so obviously was with the man he is now.

Can others see the corpse he’s unwillingly dragging behind him? Can they see through the flecks of gold as easily as he can to the dirt underneath? I’m sure it shines through, every once in a while. He’s not always unpleasant to be around, even if he more or less shambles around like a dead man walking. I’d like to see if there’s something underneath the horror he’s encased himself in, or if the charismatic and charming Ambrose Shaw is well-and-truly-dead. He feels like a beast walking in human skin, otherworldly in his not-so-subtle bouts of madness, like he cannot control his own body in a way that means anything. Do others see this, and if so, do they confront it, or do they turn their heads?

I SEEM TO BE BUSY TEARING DOWN WHAT I WAS. I’d love for Ambrose to meet with others who have never heard of him. I know that sounds a little silly, but he craves a world in which he has not shared every piece of himself, a world in which there is no Ambrose Shaw, the archeologist of great renown, and instead… Ambrose Shaw, the man. Relationships of any kind — antagonistic, friendly, romantic — they all feel beyond him now, and I can see him clinging to any person who might see him for what he is beyond his reputation, might go so far as to say they’ll be the only ones keeping him even remotely sane.

On the flip side of this, I’d love for Ambrose to interact with characters who have similar burdens. Sometimes the truths of guilt and grief aren’t genuinely opened to you until you’ve shared them with others, and up until now, he’s found himself silenced, biting down on his own tongue.

WHAT YOU CAN’T GIVE AWAY YOU MUST CARRY WITH YOU. I think that Ambrose almost certainly has lessons he could impart upon less-experienced crewmen and guests, with stars in their eyes and metal in their mouths, searching for a taste of adventure. It might be why some of them boarded The Promethean in the first place. The unfortunate reality is that Ambrose wholly believes the adventure he once adored to be something ugly, beast-like, a journey which warps and changes you beyond recognition.

I’d like to see him impart some of his stories and lessons upon those willing to listen to what he has to say; he used to love hosting, after all, even if now he hates it when someone so much as breathes the same air as he. It might take some time, some thawing of the ice in his middle, but I think he’d share eventually.

TO FEEL ANYTHING DERANGES YOU. What does Ambrose see on the back of his lids, when he closes his eyes? Is it a place, a person, a beast, a being? There’s no doubt in my mind that the further along The Promethean’s journey extends, the deeper Ambrose is going to sink into despair, and until he finds a place he cannot dig into with his two bare hands, he will be haunted. He’d boarded the ship in an effort to run from his ghosts, only to discover they'd trailed after him, nipping at his heels like a great black dog. He is unsure of his end, and if he’s to meet it sooner rather than later, but I’d like to explore his willingness to meet it. Would he accept death, if it meant escaping what shows itself to him in his sleep, even if it meant hellfire?

CONNECTIONS*

*These are purposefully vague, and by no means set in stone. I’m absolutely willing to adjust accordingly with whatever plots and relationships The Marked may have had beforehand! I did one for every skeleton, in hopes of providing a jumping-off point for plotting! If you’re looking for your character, CTRL+F and type in their skeleton title!

I. THE VETERAN: They are similarly haunted, even if the shape their ghosts take the form of is different by a wide margin. Their suffering does not appear to be quite so physical, in Ambrose’s eyes, although he recognizes their stiff-legged gait and paranoid gaze as well as he recognizes his own. I could see the two of them growing close, in the fleeting way that friendships through trauma and regret are forged.

II. THE DOE-HEARTED: In her, Ambrose sees the faces of his own family. His brother tried to sway him from his path, time and time again, and he ignored him in favor of grit beneath his nails and the taste of glory. He wants to tell her there might be no hope at all: once a man is swayed towards the path of hubris, it’s difficult to pull him off of it, and if you do manage, the consequences are often dire.

III. THE IDOL: In them, there is the spirit of expedition, the same spirit he’d harnessed in his youth to carry him far and wide. Their fire is by no means unfamiliar, although they have a different flavor than the usual doe-eyed naivete he encounters from men and women too young. They carry a ghost in the shape of their superior with them, and Ambrose can’t help but feel a streak of pity for them, the same pity he holds for himself.

IV. THE CAPTAIN: Pride makes men cruel, angry, ugly, and so does ambition. It’s… odd, this need to shake them by their shoulders and tell them they’re being a fool, but it’s there nonetheless. He doubts he’ll ever work up the courage, but if there were ever a mirror-image of his old self atop The Promethean, Ambrose fears it takes shape in the form of The Captain.

V. THE SCION: He circles The Scion like a bird of prey because he knows of nothing else to do. They were both caught in the throes of London’s glory, both caught up in the pride that comes from being something. But The Scion was kind-hearted, even if they now find themselves setting it aside, where Ambrose certainly wasn’t. He was nasty, cruel-mouthed and sharp-tongued, basked too much in his glory to bother extending his reach to the common people he once worked alongside. His ghosts and his guilt make him similarly ugly, and I’d like to explore if this is any different from the implied connection he and The Scion had beforehand, if their interactions were surface-level or went beyond that.

VI. THE SHADOW: A wolf is a wolf is a wolf, and in them, Ambrose sees hunger that stems neither of eagerness or inexperience. Their hunger is borne from desperation, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t unsettle him. He, too, has donned sheep’s clothing time-and-time again, lied and cheated and stole to get his hands on the fingerbones of corpses and through the doors of old tombs. He used to be just as hungry, but now his belly has been slit, filled with stones, and any appetite he once had is gone… but The Shadow might reawaken old cravings.

VII. THE IDOL: In them he sees exactly the sort of thing he would have been digging for. Grief, sorrow, and ambition forged into one being, coated in gold and perfect to be put up in a museum. It makes sense, then, given his pretenses, that he would do his best to keep his distance, at the cost of several potentially awkward interactions.

VIII. THE CLAIRVOYANT: They see the thing that hangs around Ambrose’s head. They see the great, hulking wolfhound he has become, alongside the pale imitation of himself that lurks in his shadow. Make no mistake: he may be more terrified than they are, fears answers as much as he seeks them. He dances around the confrontation, skirts around the truth, knows it will find him eventually, knowing they might be the one to bring it.

VIX. THE NOBLE: Their voice refused to harmonize in much the same way his did. They have probably encountered each other, at some point or another, and it seems to be some cruel joke, the way he cannot escape from the very people he once used to entertain. He tries to weave them stories, in the way that he used to, but the words never seem to fit the right way in his mouth.

X. THE COMMANDER: Enough of humility, they declare, and Ambrose wants to tell them he’ll trade his pride for their humility, but he’s seen their silent companion called insecurity dog after as many as twenty men, men he’s dragged around on expeditions and men he’s dug up from graves. Most kings die from insecurity, from a want to be something bigger themselves. Ambrose himself is in the process of decay; he can’t help but wonder if The Commander might follow suit.

XI. THE EMPRESARIO: In them he sees his old self, and when they share the same space, it’s something like a light trying to spark on in the dark. Their ambition is familiar, as is their eagerness to forge a new path ahead. He, himself, had been much the same, in his fleet-footed days as a professor, and he seems to mirror their attitudes and somehow encourage them with ease even with the warning tugging at his tongue, begging to fall from his lips.

XII. THE ROMANTIC: If their brother is a soothsayer, then they themselves are just the opposite. Ambrose takes an admitted comfort to the fact they seem to denounce their sibling at every possible turn, if only because it means there’s a chance his affliction (ghosts, always ghosts) are just… figments of his imagination, lies he tells himself.

XIII. THE LOVER: Beauty is nothing without dread. If history has taught Ambrose anything, it is to fear those who are beautiful above all else, and in that vein, the ghost at his ear whispers to fear The Lover, who has clever eyes and a clever heart. Were he his old self, he thinks he could easily go toe-to-toe with them, but he finds himself older, weary, less capable, and so he holds his tongue.

XIV. THE ENIGMA: He would have trusted them on an expedition in a heartbeat, there’s no doubt about that. They’ve certainly got capable enough hands to do well in a career of bloodshed for a little bit of kingdom. He feels compelled to trust them now, might share a piece of himself here and there, were they willing to let him do so, although he heels more often than he howls.

XV. THE PURSER: They value money the same way he once valued glory, and frankly, that might be all there is to it. By default these days he’s cautious around those who make him think too much of himself, and as someone who vaulted similarly from the slums of London to a position of power, he is waiting for them to meet their Icarian downfall in the same way he did.

XVI. THE DOCTOR: Opium addiction is not uncommon among men in Ambrose’s old circles, and it’s not unfamiliar to him. In fact, these days it’s the only thing keeping Ambrose afloat. I’m not totally sure as to whether or not it’s accessible, but if The Doctor will provide the one thing… that wins him a few sacred minutes of sleep? He’ll be certain to make himself familiar.

XVII. THE CHRONICLER: Theirs is the pursuit of truth, and there’s no doubt in my mind that at some point or another at the height of his fame, they published something unsavory about Ambrose’s endeavors. Something ugly about the way he relished in digging for the dead. He doesn’t much like them, I figure, and he’d rather avoid them than he would hold a conversation, but… some things are just unavoidable, aren’t they?

XVIII. THE STOWAWAY: When given a choice, Ambrose chose to claw and climb his way to the top, at the cost of his relationship with his mentor, his old friend, his colleagues. He had once been nothing, and given the chance to be something, there was no hesitation at all. He understands them, but once again cannot put words to his understanding. They are lost on him, as most things these days are.

XIX. THE SOCIALITE: He entertained them and their family, once or twice. In fact, it might have been the case there was something between them, every blue moon, when hunger of a different kind struck. But the man he used to be and the man he is now are different creatures, and whatever capacity in which they knew each other has surely changed as a result.

XX. THE SONGBIRD: He’d enjoyed their singing, at one time, when he’d stood at the peak of London’s mountains, but a lark is still a lark, and even the most beautiful of songs can sound sour to the wrong ears. Their fall from grace seems to mirror Ambrose’s, however, and the notion makes him uncomfortable.

XXI. THE HARUSPEX: Regret tinges each and every one of his interactions with The Haruspex, no matter how much he wishes it were otherwise. He might be an old dog, but he is a dog with teeth, and The Haruspex reminds him of a whelp that doesn’t know any better. He wishes he could guide them towards a prosperous future in the way he used to guide his students, but his hostility is now reflex, and he doesn’t know how much it’s going to take to shake them off before he outright tears their throat from the rest of them so they’ll stop yapping.

XXII. THE CHAPLAIN: Faith has no power over terror, but he is willing to try, for the sake of achieving the silence he so desperately yearns for. He will pray, repent, confess, do whatever it takes, but there’s something that wonders in the back of his head if The Chaplain can see through this facsimile of worship as easily as he does.

XXIII. THE WILDCARD: It’s a true tragedy to watch someone who is never wrong make mistakes, but Ambrose keeps an eye from a distance anyways. He could attempt to warn them, if he chose to. He does not, and the reasoning for why that is is unbeknownst to him.

#* intro.

7 notes · View notes

stfreds-arc · 4 years

Text

@ragemade sent : New Years Kiss / new year’s kisses , not accepting !

she stares at him, sometimes, when he’s looking away. she stares and wonders HOW it is this is even possible. that he’s here: as tangible as the scars on her skin. as tangible as her own flesh — a PART of her, embedded in her hurt and her bruises is the raw, beating HEART of him. when wondering of an explanation to the coincidence that set him in her path again, all she could come up with was the notion of FATE — the narrating force behind all the novels she keeps close to her heart, hidden under her pillow, lest anybody finds out that freddie dawson has a heart longing for a love as big as the ocean. she’s staring even now: while the rowdy crowd of the bar’s new year’s party spreads chaos throughout the rooms, while it’s loud enough that she could say something, ANYTHING, just an inch away from his ear and it would still drop dead before it reached him. she wonders, and as she wonders she doesn’t realize she’s moved her body closer to him, an arm leaning over his shoulder like SHE USED TO, one finger tracing the outline of a stray curl framing his ear and wondering, again, how it can be that she’s known him ALL HER LIFE and yet he always ties a knot inside of her, like he carries not just his person but the embodiment of possibility too, and future, and freedom, and LIFE itself.

he carries FEAR, too. not because of him ( he’s the PEACE inside of her: never the horror she’s fled from ). it’s the fear that comes from her WANT and knowing their want is forbidden in the eyes of those they ran away from. it’s the fear of imagining them coming ever closer, bursting through the door even now, on new year’s, to remind them they can never really be free, and they can never really be each other’s. but through all her caution, all the NIGHTMARES that prevent her from sleeping and keep her rattling through the day, she has yearned in ways that feel BIG and ancient, she has yearned enough to rip the laws of time and she has yearned through centuries, millennia, reshaping the concept of FATE itself, that’s not the law of written things but the pull of magnets, pulling each other apart and together again, and then once joined unbreakable, too strong to part, too singular to become two again.

it’s all in that, isn’t it? magnets. him finding her again. them finding each other so close to one another, on NEW YEAR’S EVE — there must be some hidden symbolism she isn’t quite catching. the beginning of a new year, returning to BEFORE, but into the TOMORROW — whole again, or close to it.

she won’t blame this on the champagne, or a new year’s celebration. she won’t blame this on nothing, not even the way her own body seems to move of its own accord. call it GRAVITY, if you will — call it the natural order of things. the crowd yells a countdown, and by the time the clock strikes zero her hand is on the side of billy’s face, her lips over him, lingering. not the kind of chaste peck on the lips one would give a friend in celebration. not the ravenous blood rush of desire, either. it’s DEVOTION in its purest form — in the gentle way it burns, in the way she can’t part from him until the taste of their kiss has erased that of the champagne.

“ hey ”, it’s all she whispers, but not pulling away — sitting right there, left hand on his cheek, forehead against his. one. “ happy new year ”.

#ragemade #inquiries.#dyn . billy : but everytime i hear the quiet it echoes you .#this sucks but i had feelings and they needed to come out i'm sorry

1 note · View note

cerberus253 · 4 years

Text

I just rediscovered this thing I typed for high school some years ago and what? What?? I typed this? Like, yeah it may not be the best and I’m sure it has flaws, but whatever the heck was going on in my head seems pretty interesting to present-day me. I’m reposting this instead of reblogging because this fiction piece is super long and I don’t want to force people to scroll through a crap ton text if they aren’t interested.

Dear Ben

[SHORT STORY FOR SCI-FI AND FANTASY CLASS]

8 October, 2537

Dear Ben,

Hey, it’s Khristina. I’ve never really talked to you like this, but I’m terrified and I don’t know what else to do. Coming in contact with you at all will only bring bad news, but I will not under any circumstances go with anything you say, I just need someone to talk to because my best friend, Luciel, is being imprisoned in another cell far away from me, as all the other slaves are in this place. I don’t know where we’re at, but it’s cold, dark, damp, and it reeks of petroleum. I’m pretty sure you’ve been paying attention to what happened in the last year or so, the whole Hirouleysi invading when everyone thought it was a joke for 30 years. They swooped down in their giant “kveikurs”, which are 10 feet tall raven black, metal dragons with a wingspan three times their size, spewing poisonous toxins where ever their masters please. We both like dreadful looking things, but both of us were terrified of those beasts. They may be generic looking, but I’ll never forget the moment when we were walking in the woodlands and suddenly a dark shadow casted over head like an eclipse, heading towards Behelzen. I’m ashamed that it didn’t register in my head something bad was going to happen, until I heard the shrilling screams of utter horror from the town. When we arrived I couldn’t believe how everything went to ruin in the matter of minutes, people coughing like their lives depended on it, children crying, and gas everywhere. I even remember seeing some of the Hirouleysi carrying people away, unconscious. This happened since they arrived, these “people” coming once a week to torture, then to take whatever they want away. Luciel and I were terrified, but you weren’t, you just watched in content.

I can’t believe we were taken also. I’m usually the one being safe and not taking any action, but I guess there is no safe haven with these creatures around. They destroy everything and leave behind the plague. At least it’s satisfying to know that the people down in the city of Sentrare have multiple Sagrabt shops, who only sell the cure at a reasonable price for the awful sickness that the kveikurs spread, I just wish it didn’t take five months to make, all those families that lost their loved ones… Anyways, we both feel suspicious about the short amount of time it took to make it. I know the plague is a new sickness, but the cure should of taken longer to make, not that I wanted it to, it just seems so fast the way they whipped it up, but what do I know about making cures.

Tomorrow is the first day us newcomers will be shown around the plague hive. Please do not say anything that will separate Luciel and I, let alone get us in trouble.

9 October, 2537

Dear Ben,

Before I talk about what happened today, because you don’t pay attention much to anything around you, the what seemed to be one of the captains reminded me of my kidnapping, probably because he or she looked a lot like the one that did catch me. I was underground with my family in our “safety home,” (thank you dad for being paranoid and believing the warnings) when suddenly with only a rattle of warning, the entire place was engulfed in poisonous gas. A thing about the gas, it does not affect you at first, but after 10 minutes or so you start to feel light headed and nauseous and you start to cough. After 20 minutes or so of this torture, you immediately fall unconscious, then you wake up like you had a hangover. So, when the gas hit us, my parents handed out masks for my siblings and I. We hid separately around the house with weapons as quietly as we could as the captain loomed about, carefully checking everywhere. Hiding in my room, I could barely see through the gas, but I saw the individual and I shamefully say I admire their apparel. I guess they wanted to blend with their kveikurs because they had the same get up as them: all black metal armor with three sets of horns on their helmets. Their helmets could be lifted from the mandible and at the opening of the helmet’s “mouth” were rows of teeth like a canine. They had small spikes going down their back and clawed metal gloves. Most of the troops carried swords or staffs with sharp ends on them, but some just prefered their fists and claws. This one in particular had more spikes than the average guy and looked more lean than the others. Despite his stature, he looked importantly dressed, so I assume he was higher ranked. I was terrified of this guy, but he seemed to be careful of where he was looking. Usually robbers or crooks would throw stuff around, but he was being careful on what he picked up and placed back. He seemed…lenient, maybe? I don’t know, he stopped at my drawings and took the time to go through them. It felt forever just watching some guy look at my work, not knowing if they would be good or bad in his eyes. Why do I care? I have no clue. A murderer is deliberately looking at my art and I’m sitting here thinking “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t think it’s crap!” knowingly he will kill any civilian that walks through the door. And then he took some of my sketch books. Why he needed them, I don’t know but I was mad that he stole something of mine without my permission. Thank god I was a coward enough to not confront him. In the end, he found me and I tried my best to fight back, aiming for his cervical, orbitals, popliteals, and surals and crurals, over all going berserk like a child. I guess everyone heard me screaming and stuff breaking so they ran up and ganged up on him, but it was too late, more troops came down and slaughtered my parents, but left my siblings and I unconscious, probably because the elder ones were of no use but the younglings can grow to work later. I was the only one in my family taken as far as I know. Luciel told me that she saw the Hirouleysi take me away and she stupidly followed them, having herself become captured in the process.

Anyways, we were shown around the quarry today, being told where everything was at and what our jobs were. Everyone was silent except for the officers and some rowdy kids, who were punched in the gut gladly by the superiors. There were teenagers and young adults everywhere who looked surprisingly well fed, but had bruises and scars all over them. Some kids were carrying gas canisters, some were following Hirouleysi troopers and being trained by them, some were unconscious on the ground. I cried multiple times on the tour, and practically ever since I remembered what happened to me prior to this, but Luciel seemed to be the only one that noticed and cared. Luciel talks a lot when she’s around me, but it was unnerving not hearing one word from her. Occasionally she would mumble and tear up but she tried her best not to catch any Hirouleysi’s sight.

1 November, 2537

Dear Ben,

Everyone got a job to do, Luciel had the job to make an account of all the kveikurs made and which ones were in progress and how far into the progress. I, however, showed great knowledge on how things could potentially function, so I have the job of not only making and fixing kveikurs, but to design new and better ones. I heard some Hirouleysi whispering about how I wouldn’t be able to fight well, but I could be something of an overseer. To be honest, I’d rather be stuck with the same job as Luciel because I’d be with her.

You know, despite this being slave labour, they actually treat us okay. Well, actually the ones who follow the rules and don’t act up do. We’re given food, warnings instead of immediate punishment first, and longer breaks. Now only if they would fix the cold cells, but I guess they have to be harsh in some way. It feels like prison here, so I guess I know that if I am ever in actual prison I wouldn’t have any trouble with the officers there. It’s pretty lonely, especially with you always nagging at me, to tell me to fight back. I know I should, but on my end I have nothing to defend myself with. We’ve been told that there has been many escape attempts, gang ups, riots, even sabotages by former slaves. They were exterminated within minutes. As long as we do what we’re told, we’ll be fine, but I’m still thinking of what I could, or maybe should, do to cause some trouble around here, but I have to make sure no one would expect it to be me, being a coward and all.

15 March, 2538

Dear Ben,

As you can tell, I haven’t talked for a while because I lost the motivation and time to do so, including materials. I was able to write letters before because I found papers and charcoal lying around my cell for some reason, but now I was actually given papers to write on! So here’s what happened, I’ve been so good around Ditinggalkan, the name of the quarry we are enslaved at, that I’ve been given a reward of my, limited, choosing. I would of liked to work with Luciel, but even with my best friend I need breaks and time alone, and I see her enough already with my other specially given break rules (they let me go and talk with her where she works, as long as I’m supervised), so I asked for paper and some art supplies. They agreed, but they said nothing of it leaves Ditinggalkan. I had no intentions of doing that because even if they did let me send it out, they would have to check it. The Hirouleysi are so tight with check ups on everyone to make sure we aren’t hiding anything. Despite all my submission, I think they still suspect me of doing something against them because the one that tells the truth can lie more easily and betrayal does not come from the enemies, but your friends. They must’ve caught onto that because I always get the sense I’m being watched, and later I found that I was. Guess who’s watching me? The same Hirouleysi that kidnapped me and killed my parents. He must have some grudge against me because I irritated him pretty well back on that day. I kept knocking him down because I went for his legs and abdominal region. Then I kept whacking his helmet to make as much noise as possible to annoy him, all the while sitting on him, using my weight to keep him down. Despite his stalking, he never confronted me in any way, probably because he wasn’t aloud to hurt someone without having a reason. I’m starting to think the respect rules are only here to convince us the Hirouleysi are our new friends and family. Strangely I do feel safe around them, but keep reminding me they killed numerous people for no reason and stole teenagers to make mechanical beasts to further kill other people. I do wonder what the Hirouleysi motives are for all this.

1 April, 2538

Dear Ben,

Every week I see those black monsters rise up from their cages in the morning into the skies like swarms of mosquitoes, then part in multiple groups and go every which way. To about the afternoon to late at night, they come back with items and people, repeating the process the Hirouleysi did with us. It is quite mesmerising to watch as the Hirouleysi saddle up their kveikurs and rise like dragon riders, but it’s so sad they are acting as the villains to everyone outside. I always wanted to be a dragon rider, maybe I would get the chance to ride one some day, I just hope it doesn’t also mean I have to demolish towns as well. To be honest, the Hirouleysi don’t gather many kids, five, six, I think the most I’ve seen was eight. They all look so confused and scared. I really wish people wouldn’t be so hard on frightened teenagers. Make them comfortable first, then give them tough love.

20 May, 2538

Dear Ben,

A fight broke out a couple weeks ago. I don’t know how it started, but every fight starts off with a disagreement. Luciel was in the middle of it, trying to settle the kids down (I’m referring to most people here as ‘kids’ because they act like children), but it ended up becoming even worse. I suppose you could of called it an uprising by the largest sea of people. I want to say it was between those who wanted to stay and those who wanted to leave. Multiple people were killed from both sides and I’ve heard from a guy that calls himself Herald that Hirouleysi were watching intently, but did not do a thing. I had no idea they were so entertained by that fight because I was too busy trying to protect Luciel. I may not be the strongest female, I may not be the most agile or light, but I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to her. Right now, she’s all I’ve got to a family. I guess it goes to show how much the Hirouleysi actually “care” about us. Their boss must have threatened them to a great extent to convince them not to be too violent with us. Herald proceeded to tell me that he was watching the fight from afar too. He only took pity on them. Quick thing about Herald, he’s an overseer that likes thinking his job is more of a way to blackmail slaves like the weasel he is, but he seems to grow a liking towards me, probably because I’m the only person to willingly talk to him. Anyways, he noticed how no interference from the Hirouleysi happened until six or seven minutes after I came in. Herald said he was able to watch this because he was actually betting that I was going to be killed. What a guy, right? I bet you’d be best friends with him, Ben. He didn’t find any connection between me and the Hirouleysi interference and usually I’d be suspicious about there being a connection, but nowadays I try not to believe anything like that happens, I’m not that special anyways. All the Hirouleysi troops are forced to be nice to the ones who deserve it. Luciel and I left before the riot was over, but we heard that it lasted a good 45 minutes and some Hirouleysi deaths, rumor has it that someone, not sure who, brought out a kveikur and smashed loads of humans. Just about everyone in that battle was punished with whips and starvation. I tried to lie and say I wasn’t in it, but they found out and punished me for it, physically with whips and starvation, but also the loss of trust, which was the worst part. You thought all of that was like watching your favorite T.V. show, you also wanted to join in on the fun and think about consequences later, but as I told you before, I am not letting you.

30 June, 2538

Dear Ben,

Luciel started dating one of our peers. His name is Daniel and he’s four years older than her. I never really liked it when Luciel dated because she was always hurt in the end. I do love Luciel, but she’s very paranoid about anyone besides her family and me of betraying her, yet she dates. In a place like this, I wouldn’t go out with anyone. It’s full of sociopaths and psychopaths. I would like to have someone that loves me, but really the only one would be you, and I can’t even reach you by any means, at least in the way I would like to. I really worry about Luciel, I’ve told her she shouldn’t date people until she understood herself enough and loved herself first. No one seems to get it though, the whole “love yourself first before others”. Even I barely understand it, but just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m pretty sure I love myself. I do suffer from depression, but I view that as more of an obstacle or a teaching method for the ones around me. I want to show people I can be stronger than depression, or any other feeling or thought you can make me have. Though there is one thing that still keeps me up at night, and it is that soul crushing loneliness. The kind that you have when people are around you, but because you cannot communicate the things that are important to you, they make you feel even more alone and neglected. I swear I’m going to be a nervous wreck before I escape or die here.

6 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

I swear to god I have not felt so much hate in my life at this point. I had a surprise check in today while I was working. Unlike what you’d think, the Hirouleysi officers were careful poking around my things, but I absolutely hate it when people touch my things. I don’t care if it was the Devil himself turning off my video game to play Just Dance or something, I do NOT like it when people touch my things. What stunk even more is that one of the officers took my sketches, again! Did they want it for ideas of new poisonous monstrosities or was there just this one guy that likes stealing people’s stuff? BAH! I liked those sketches too.

The Hirouleysi also skimmed over my letters to you. They asked who you were, so I told them and they just gave me the indication that I was a loon, so that was fun. Then later I was called down to speak with the gas team because they were short on Toxin people. I never thought I was smart, but apparently I was brainy enough to help make chemicals. After all that, I talked with one of the helpers on break of the Toxin department. Robin was his name and he says that I shouldn’t feel too special with all these semi-important jobs I was given. There are numerous people who had the same jobs I had, so I was just another cog in the machine. That definitely brought down my self-esteem.

13 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

I’ve been thinking about why the Hirouleysi are like how they are. Slave trades I’ve read in stories and heard about in school sound cruel, unjust, and one of the worst places to be, but when you hear me talking about Ditinggalkan being an enslavement camp, but it’s not as bad as it seems, it sounds unreal. I believe these people are psychologically messing with everyone here. Think about it, if you listen and mind your own business and not cause trouble, you can actually have a decent conversation with one of the guards. If you’re loyal enough, they will train you to be one of them. They act like parents and treat us like their children, rewarding the good ones and punishing the bad ones, respecting the smart ones and trying to fit the best job for a mentally challenged kid instead of just assigning whoever to whatever. I said this before I think, but Ditinggalkan rules for the Hirouleysi are for all of us to try to become friends, so we will join them and follow what they do. The Hirouleysi don’t actually care, they are manipulating us through our feelings and thoughts. Yes, physical punishment is the same, but that’s besides the point. This frightens me, whoever their boss is knows how to gain teenager’s trust, but he also knows that not all will submit, so he keeps them in check and makes sure they would be so deep into their work, they won’t know what is going on. I hope all three of us, you, Luciel, and I won’t fall into their trap.

28 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

I’ve never told you about this, but back in April there is a man that nobody pays attention to. None of the slaves talk to him, none of the Hirouleysi talk to him, nobody. Herald was able to sneak me some candy bars a few days ago in that month, and for some reason the thought of finding this nobody, sharing my food, and talking to him came to mind (I blame you for this one). It took all day, but I finally found him. You know me, Ben, that I would never in a million years find some stranger, walk up to him, and talk to him because of fear and my aspergers. He looked broken and forgotten, come to think of it, I think he was also the oldest person I saw here. It looked like he was eating just fine, but by the looks of how tired he was, he reminded me of how I would see a dirty rag on the ground at home, too lazy to pick it up and hope one of the other house dwellers would pick it up, but nobody ever does, so in the end I have to confront it. The conversation was awkward and choppy, but he liked to talk. Out of nowhere he tells me flat out “The Hirouleysi and Sagrabt are working together.” Me being the intellectual I was and how suspicious I was about the Sagrabt to begin with, I asked how do you know this and why. He proceeded to tell me that ever since he became a shadow to everyone here, he was able to gather information from just about anyone, even conversations between Hirouleysi. He never told anyone because of fear of the Hirouleysi, and no one seemed to be bothered enough to look for information. Everyone just wanted out, but the only way to do that is death, so why not collect intel and wait for someone who had the guts to do something with it, to give them hope? The man explained in detail what he knows, but in general, the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt are working together because of money and power, but their agendas are different. For some reason, the Hirouleysi are planning treason against Sagrabt because “those are the exact type of people that need to be purged from the world.” From this comment, it seems like the Hirouleysi are trying to do some good, but my question is why are they killing and trapping innocent people? What does the Sagrabt get out of it? Both of them must be planning something bigger. Someone else beyond these metal and rock walls has to of caught a whiff of what’s going on and is doing something about it, because I don’t have the courage to do anything.

Last thing before bed, the man told me to never speak to him again. He wouldn’t tell me why, but it was nothing against me, it was for “personal matters.” I hope he isn’t going to kill himself.

7 November, 2538

Dear Ben,

I began my overseer job a bit after my last letter, and it was, at the least, weird. I got the night shift because I was able to gain the Hirouleysi trust back a little and because I wanted to face my fear of what could be in the dark watching me. So I’m sitting there on a ledge, taking my break, eating my food, when one of the guards sat beside me. Not just any old guard, but one that looked like a high ranking officer, not just any old high ranking officer, but the same one over a year ago that kidnapped me. We sat in silence for a while and I was trembling and heating up with fear. Did I do something wrong? Was I going to die here? What did I do to upset them?

“So, how do you like the kveikurs?” I’m sorry, but what? Was he really asking me this right now? I’m still confused to this day why he just plopped himself right next to me asked ‘What’s your opinion on our monsters???’

“Um, well I like how they look, but I don’t like what they’re used for.”

“Uh-huh” More silence follows after.

“I’m sorry I took you away from you home, and for what happened to your parents.”

“What kind of insensitive dillweed are you?!” is what you, Ben, wanted to say, but no, what I said was even worse,

“Oh” So this is the guy that has been stealing my art for months.

“Why did you do it? What’s the point? You should’ve just taken me and left my family alone. What is…wrong with you people?!”

“I can’t really tell you, but it will all work out in the end, okay? I’ve noticed you haven’t been too lively lately, is everything…okay?” Here’s where my explanation for why this letter took so long comes in. I’ve gotten into a depression and all I wanted to do was draw constantly. I’m upset about how Luciel is spending all of her free time with Daniel, I’m feeling neglected and left out. She’s also been hanging around other people more. I respect that she has gained friends, but she’s leaving me out and barely talking with me anymore. She’s addicted to her boyfriend now.

I tell this mysterious guard all this, and we start going back and forth of ‘Did you try this? Yes I did. Did you try this? Yes I did that, too.’ and it came to a point where we both didn’t know what to do. The captain was trying to comfort me with some stories on his end and what he did, but it didn’t help. While talking to him, I had the feeling of realization that these masked figures are people, they’re all people, but you reminded me that just because they’re people, does not mean all is forgiven of what they did. I asked how and why he was here in Ditinggalkan. He said he could not tell me, but it’s all about freedom in the future. Yes, a slavery captain is talking about freedom, hardy har har, but what finally clicked was the Hirouleysi were holding slaves for a limited time. Once they reached their “freedom” goal, they would set us all free. What made me think this, I don’t know, but from everything that I’ve heard so far, this is what it sounded like. I made the stupid decision of telling him this thought because I wear my heart on my sleeve and trust people too easily, but thank god his response was,

“I’m going to say that you’re wrong so then I won’t be punished for saying that you’re right. So, no, you’re thought is absolutely wrong.” Whoever this guy was trusts me and likes me for some reason, so we talked, about other things, from then on, conversing on my break time as overseer. His name is Jodocus, he’s pretty funny and smart, and I do love his passionate personality. I found out he took my drawings at first for proof of my “worthiness of being in Ditinggalkan,” and the second time and so on for admiring them. He also told me he’s never giving them back, so I’m a little butthurt from that. Meeting him changed my view on the Hirouleysi, but I want you to keep reminding me that just because one is like this, does not mean all are like this.

I really need to try to talk to Luciel again about the situation we’re both in. She sounds so miserable lately. She’s never happy anymore unless she’s around Daniel or talking about him. I don’t seem to be making anything better. One time recently I think I made our relationship worse. We’ve been friends for years and I never thought our friendship would be this close to falling.

29 February, 2539

Dear Ben,

Luciel killed herself the night after November 7th of last year. I was overseeing that night, but I guess she found a spot where no one could see her. I was walking around and I smelled fresh blood. I followed the smell and I saw her, body exploded, blood splattered everywhere, her organs mangled about everywhere, spilling from her lifeless corpse like paint splatter, her beautiful pink dyed hair now caked with blood. I have flashbacks every time I think about it; I may have PTSD after what I saw. As you can tell, I was in a deep depression that nothing could of gotten me out of. I tried my best to talk to her, she told me on the day of the 8th that her boyfriend and her broke up. They had an awful argument about being here in Ditinggalkan and becoming a Hirouleysi. I was there for her, I listened, comforted, and held her, but I guess the pressure had the upper ground and she convinced herself she can not live anymore. I never thought out of all these years she would do something like this. She was so strong and smart, but depression was stronger in her head. This shouldn’t of happened, this should not of happened! I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most.

You shouldn’t blame yourself. You did the best you could.

I’m trying to listen to that. I hope you had a fun time seeing my pain, Ben.

I was so emotionally sick from all of it the Hirouleysi took actual genuine pity on me and didn’t bother calling me in for work or anything. I locked ourselves in my cell, only coming out for food, bathroom breaks, and art supplies. I tried my best to avoid everyone; I felt bad about ignoring ‘hellos’ and such, especially from Herald. I couldn’t help it though, I wanted to be alone and with my thoughts and you. Jodocus would come by my chamber every few hours or so. He wouldn’t say anything but leave origami paper flowers for me from book pages.

I can’t explain how I escaped my prison, but only by “it clicked.” Obviously I still hurt, but one day I just stopped, I was done with crying, I was done with drowning in sorrow. I want to think the lyrics from Phil Collins helped somewhat,

“I know It’s hard but found somehow

To look into your heart and to forgive me now

You’ve given me the strength to see just where my journey ends

You’ve given me the strength to carry on

I see the path from this dark place

I see my future

And your forgiveness has set me free

Oh, and I can see another way

I can face another day”

6 August, 2538

Dear Ben,

It has been (ha) a long time, but I know what I’m going to do now. This is counted as treason, but I don’t care anymore. I’m doing what I know is right, and that is sabotaging; I’ll follow you now. I am going to turn a kviekur into one that would spew the cure Sagrabt is selling. Not only that, but I will also place in all my kveikurs blueprints of them and say what I know about the alliance of the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt, pocketed safely away so after they self destruct, the info will be safe. Obviously I’ll have to randomize which kveikurs will be healing and which will have the notes, but I’m pretty sure this will stay in secrecy for a while. I will be put to death for this once I’m found out, but I simply just don’t care anymore. We could escape, tuck ourselves away like the intel, but I need to stay here to gather more information, like the man in April. This is going to be hard and terrifying, but it will be worth it to someone someday. I need the people of each and every city, town, farm, whatever to know how to fight the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt, to be free from their crooked hands. I feel awful for stabbing Jodocus in the back for he seemed to develope feelings for me, from all his stealing and stalkerish ways. I kind of liked him too, I would of liked to see how things could’ve turned out for us, but I don’t want to be in pain from relationships. This is a jump from the last letter, but I’m letting you take the wheel now, I’m done with being scared all the time, just take over.

X XX, XXXX

Dear Khristina,

We’ve made wonderful progress so far, but I do feel empty and bored of life. Do you think we did the right thing? Maybe we should of stayed with the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt and try to help the Hirouleysi take over. I would’ve liked to see their leader and know both side’s intentions so we could manipulate them. We could of had all their attention like you wanted. We could of had control like you wanted. But alas, we’d both be forlorn forevermore. There’s just no winning with you, is there? I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, but if a better opportunity comes up, we’re taking it.

- Love from your other half, Ben~

#short story #personal #i made this #sci-fi #fantasy #repost

2 notes · View notes

herbalisia · 7 years

Text

The Fidelity of Flowers, pt. 2 - Julian/Fem!Apprentice

Admin Quill with an update! Here’s part 2 of my Floriography fic with Julian. Enjoy!

Themes: Fluff, mild spice on that

Rating: Teen, for our little masochist showing his colors

Words: 4,347

Chatter from the morning crowd rattled around him. This is where he felt safe, blending into a crowd, his senses filled by the bitter, smoky aroma of the coffee in his hand. He wished he could see it how he had seen it a couple days ago. With her on his arm, the streets seemed warmer, more inviting, and the colors drifting about from the street vendors’ wares—from fruit to textiles—seemed brighter. It was like she pulled an aura of life around with her, and he would do anything to stake his claim in that aura forever. But he didn’t deserve luxuries like that. He didn’t deserve to live in the light when he was nothing but dark.

The familiar pit in his stomach formed again, and he took a distracted sip of the pitch-dark liquid in his cup to soothe it. He could see her sleeping face again, her eyes still puffy from the tears that she had wasted on him. Everything in his being wanted to wake her and apologize that night. He wanted to tell her that he took it back. He wanted to hold her again, bathe in her soothing scent and run his fingers through her hair. He wanted just one more taste of her sweet lips, one more high from the sounds she breathed into his mouth. He wanted so much. But nothing good ever came from fickleness, even though he had practically perfected it into an art. He’d settled on brushing her flushed cheek with a gloved finger, unable to fully resist his desire to touch her, but he’d quickly escaped out the window when she made a deep sound in her throat at his touch. He didn’t want to wake her, or else he would surely injure her further. Instead, he settled for his original plan, the plan he had devised before he had been distracted with his concerns for her. Before he had used the key—against his word—to break in one last time to steal up the stairs and see her again. He placed the bouquet gently on the doorstep, concealed in the darkness of the night. He looked through them again, assuring that he had said all that he wanted with them. Was she even familiar with floriography? What if she didn’t know he’d left them? What if she didn’t understand his message? Surely Asra would recognize it, but would he be willing to help her decipher it, after what he’d done? He clawed at his chest, fist balling in the supple leather of his coat. If she didn’t understand his intentions with the flowers, it shouldn’t matter to him. If he did everything right, she wouldn’t see him again anyway. So why was he lingering in Vesuvia anyway?

He looked down into his mug, his rippling reflection frowning back at him. He knew why. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t care about the risks he faced by staying, for he was too caught up in his own heartbreak to truly plan travel to any other destination anyway. But he didn’t deserve to wallow, either. He’d done this to himself. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t fear the danger in a future with him. Even so, he left. He had no right to be upset.

With a heavy sigh, he downed the rest of the coffee and placed two coins on the counter as payment, shuffling back into the street. He had no destination in mind. He just knew that he couldn’t go anywhere near the side of town that held the little magic shop. So absorbed in his own depression, he didn’t hear the desperate rattles of the raven overhead. It took the bird swooping down and pulling on his auburn tresses in passing to feel the prickle of danger on his skin and hear the protests of the guards trying to push through the crowd. His mind went blank as his legs carried him swiftly down a back alley.

You damned fool. Walking down a busy street in broad daylight. What were you thinking? He mentally scolded himself as he ran, his heart hammering in his ears as he wound down the back streets. Shouts of the guards bounced off the narrow walls, tailing him despite being out of sight. He couldn’t stop now, but he had no idea where he was going. He looked around the walls of the alley, spotting nothing that would help him decipher his location. As long as he continued in the opposite direction of the guards, he should be fine. But he couldn’t run forever.

Poking his head out into the sunlit street for just a moment, he assessed his location. His legs operated on instinct when he got his bearings, carrying him to his only reliable hideaway. Launching himself through the open window, he hissed as he knocked a yellow bloom from the stalk of one of the plants there. Mazelinka could chide him later. He pressed himself under the windowsill, the cool earth of the wall seeping into his back as he panted for breath. He thought he didn’t care about risking himself. He thought he had just told himself that at the shop. Yet here he was, gasping desperately for air after running for his life. He couldn’t make up his mind. Fickleness was certainly his talent.

Once he’d caught his breath and was certain that the guards had lost track of him, he stood up and staggered into the room partitioned off by the curtain. He stripped off his coat, gloves, and boots, flopping onto the bed unceremoniously, only to reel and sit up when his face met with a cold, velvety bundle on the pillow of the bed, spluttering when he noticed a fallen petal on his tongue.

“What?” he grumbled, holding up the tiny excuse of a bouquet. Four stems were bound at the bottom with twine, with a gentle vine of blossoms coiled around them. Did Mazelinka get these?

Leaning against the wall, he rubbed the petals of the white rose in the center between his bare fingers. “I am worthy of you,” he mumbled under his breath, a spiteful laugh escaping him. He could’ve never included this one in his bouquet to the apprentice that had captured his heart. He wasn’t worthy of her. Not in the slightest. She deserved better. Eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, he hummed when he saw the pink tulip, paired nicely against the remaining pink blooms in the arrangement. “A declaration of love. Such a romantic gesture for someone courting a woman of Mazelinka’s age. Young at heart, perhaps?” he chortled, smelling the bouquet. He put his head down on the pillow and identified the other flowers absentmindedly. The vine around the four stems was pink convolvulus, symbolizing worth sustained by judicious and tender affection, one that he easily remembered. One of the stems separated into two heads exploding into what seemed like hundreds of petals, one tinted a darker pink than the other. A double aster. Whoever sent this shared the sentiments of whoever it was replying to. Did Mazelinka send flowers to an admirer? What a giddy little girly thing to do, he thought to himself with a snicker. He pulled his fingertip down the peachy-pink bundle of petals on the last stem, savoring the velvet feeling with a mock-incredulous gasp. “A buttercup! Is this person calling Mazelinka childish or themselves?” He smirked down at the bouquet, toying with the petals as he laughed.

“What!?”

A muffled voice came from the sleeping hole, silenced by the shut door. The bouquet tumbled from Julian’s hand as he sprang up from the bed, every muscle coiled tight like a cat ready to pounce.

“Mazelinka?” he asked after the voice, though he already knew the voice didn’t belong to the house owner. Picking up the knife that was usually concealed in his boot, he inched closer to the door. He held his position a safe distance from the door and froze, knife poised at the ready. “Huh, I must’ve been hearing things,” he grumbled at a deliberately louder volume than necessary to talk to himself. After a moment, he heard a sigh, like a held breath finally being released. Eyebrows furrowed, he closed the distance to the door in half a stride and yanked the door open, knife readied in his other hand and steely eye glinting with danger. Who he saw in the hole, however, made the knife fall with a clatter as he staggered backwards a step.

“Ranunculus. It was supposed to be a ranunculus. The book said it meant ‘I am dazzled by your charms,’” the apprentice deadpanned, sounding deflated. “It wasn’t a buttercup.”

“It is a buttercup. But buttercups are a kind of ranunculus flower,” Julian corrected, his face drained of all color. “Why…what…why are you here?” His voice sounded hurt. Scared. The apprentice opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking sheepish.

“I was looking for you. I knew if you were still in town, you would probably come to Mazelinka’s house to hide again, so I--”

“You broke in,” he filled in for her. She smirked, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth before her smile pulled it free.

“I learned from the best,” she hummed, glancing up at him and twirling a loose lock of hair around her finger. He swallowed hard past a lump that quickly formed in his throat. Gods, why did she have to look at him like that? Those eyes burned into him, setting fire to any resolve he might’ve possessed. He laughed and offered her a hand to get out of the hole. She took it, her grip strong, holding him like a lifeline. Like she was prepared for him to bolt at any time.

“But why are you here? As in, right now? You could’ve easily left the flowers behind. How long were you going to sit in the hole and wait for me? What if I never came?” he scolded her, gripping her shoulders. A flush of embarrassment rose to her face as she looked away, a small pout forming on her mouth. He looked down at it, tongue prodding the inside of his lips, threatening to escape and wet his own at the sight.

“Well, I just…I just got here. It took me longer than—Look, the book is short enough, but I need more than a couple of hours to memorize them. I needed to find what I wanted to say to you, but I didn’t have the time or the patience. Then I had to find the flowers. Plus, I didn’t want to try to find anything that I didn’t recognize. I’m sure the florists would know what I wanted when I asked, but some of them were so specific, and I didn’t want to say anything wrong—well, look how that turned out, ugh. I just wanted--” Julian’s lips crushed hers, a satisfied sigh escaping him. As she had been speaking, he had slowly moved his hands up her shoulders, her throat, and eventually rested on her cheeks. She let out a soft moan as he parted her lips with his tongue, her hands finding his shoulders for support. His name tumbled from her lips, tearing a groan from his mouth as he responded with hers. Her tongue stroked his as she sighed, making his skin hum with excited energy. He kissed back with as much ferocity as she offered, stabilizing her by her waist as her knees started to buckle. His lungs burned, but he didn't care. He had been dying to taste her sweetness again ever since the last kiss he had left on them at the docks. She wove her fingers into the short hairs at the back of his neck, tugging slightly to pull him away. He purred, leaning in with a peck and gentle tug at her bottom lip before he looked down at her with a smile. Once she caught her breath, she looked up to him, her eyes a swirl of frustration and desire. He wondered which one she would chase. He knew which one he hoped she’d chase.

The hand on his chest grew more insistent as it forced him backward, farther and farther until the backs of his knees hit the bed, buckling and planting him on the worn mattress.

“Those flowers were from you, then,” he muttered, arching a brow to tease her. He knew. He knew as soon as he’d found her. Of course her payback would be a favor of the same kind. She was resourceful and clever, after all, and he loved that.

“Yes,” she breathed, straddling his lap and weaving her fingers into his hair again. The intensity of her gaze made his ears burn. “I meant all of it, and more. For one thing, there wasn’t a flower that meant ‘I am very mad at you,’ or one that meant ‘how could you do this to me, you were everything I wanted.’”

There was the frustration, he noted. His pulse jumped at the ferocity with which she stared him down. “Well, you could’ve given me basil to tell me that you hate me. After all, it’s what I deserve,” he quipped with a self-deprecating laugh, but the laughter was cut short when she tugged his hair sharply, angling his head up towards the ceiling. The action made his breath hitch in his throat, but it quickly melted out of him in a small moan as she nibbled on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, biting and tugging. “I don’t hate you, and you certainly don’t deserve it. Weren’t you paying attention? I am worthy of you, and moreover, you are worthy of me,” she mumbled against his neck, reciting one of her flowers' meanings as she scraped her incisor down the spot she had already turned a purple-red, making him shiver beneath her. “I share all of the sentiments you had for me in your bouquet,” a sucking and biting kiss higher up, on the strap of muscle that connected to his collarbone, making him squirm and clench a fist in the sheets below him. “I am dazzled by your charms, and everything else that comes with it,” she pulled the tortured love bite until the skin broke, prodding the wound with the tip of her tongue. He whimpered, his back arching, pressing his body against hers before he could stop himself. He felt his blush spread from his ears, down his face and neck, settling at his chest. Everything felt hot. A soft kiss fell against his jawline, accenting the tenderness behind her next explanation. “I am willing to take all the time in the world to show you what you are worth, with all the affection I can offer.” He hummed in approval of both her words and ministrations, moving his head just enough to plant a kiss between her eyes. She snorted out a laugh, nails raking down his chest while she affectionately kissed the hollow at the curve of his lower jaw, beneath his ear. “And I love you. I do. I couldn’t hardly breathe or get out of bed when you left me. I was so scared that something would happen to you,” she admitted, allowing her position to hide her blushing face.

“I know what you mean, dear, but how can you say you love me? You—ah!—you don’t hardly…k-know me,” he defended feebly, faltering only for a moment when her tender kiss turned into another bite beneath his jaw. The answer did not satisfy her, he assumed. She insistently dug her nails into his chest again, latching onto the side of his neck with a full-on bite. He gasped and stuttered out a strangled groan, all of the stimulation becoming too much very quickly. He was now leaning fully on his elbows, the apprentice looming over him predatorily.

“Wasn’t it you that said you loved me first? The…althea frutex, was it?” Her voice was a growl against his skin. He anchored his hand in her hair.

“Mm, well, how can’t I be? You’re a bit of a whirlwind. I can’t help being swept away,” he hummed, eyes closed in pleasure. She separated herself from his throat, looking down at him. There was sadness in her eyes, he noted as he opened his own again. “…What is it?”

She smoothed his hair out of his face, searching for something in his gaze. “Why are you allowed to love me, but it’s out of the question for me to love you, Julian?” She settled her body on top of his, brows angled down in what looked like something between a pout and confusion. He exhaled slowly, angling his eye away from her scrutinizing gaze. Her warmth and her smell were intoxicating, and he didn’t realize that being apart for only a day would put him in such strong withdrawals. He tried his best to focus his thoughts, focus past her allure to give her an answer of some sort.

“W-well, that’s…it’s because—you see, I…” he stumbled and stammered, unable to think of a proper answer with the overload in his senses, his eyes watching the angry quirk of her lips. Her expression shifted to frustration, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly caught her words with a finger. “You don’t have a criminal record, my dear. Surely you’re a better person than me, even if I can’t remember committing my crime. I’m not all light and life and smiles like you. I’m not good.”

“I don’t care what you think you are. I can see what you are, and it doesn’t scare me away,” she mumbled. He laughed breathily, his arm resting around her shoulders to pull her closer.

“Frankly, that’s the most terrifying part in all of this.” His lips caught hers again, but this time she had anticipated him. Her hands pushed at the cloth on his shoulders, moving it down far enough for her to run her nails down his arms, making him shudder again and crush her against him. His hands gripped her hips, rubbing circles in the sharp bones as he met her desperate kisses with his own. He was absolutely addicted. How did she capture him so quickly? He couldn’t help the sound of satisfaction that escaped into her mouth with the thought, mixing with her own sighs and moans. He parted for just a moment to breathe, meeting her smoldering eyes again.

“I really tried, you know. I tried to protect you. You wandered into the lion’s den. Did you expect to leave in one piece?” he whispered against her lips. She smirked, kissing the end of his nose, trailing kisses over his cheek and onto his eyepatch. He held his breath as she moved across the protective scrap of leather. No one had ever done something so intimate with his injury. He was jarred from the spell she had placed on him when she leaned into the crook of his neck to purr in his ear.

“Maybe. Who knows? Perhaps the lion wishes to be tamed. Perhaps I wish to be the tamer,” she hummed, biting the top of his ear and prodding it with the tip of her tongue. A strangled sound he could hardly suppress rumbled from his chest.

“Oh gods, yes. The lion would thoroughly enjoy anything his lady tamer wished to attempt in that respect,” he pleaded. Her forehead pressed to his as she chuckled softly at his response. His slate grey eye searched hers for a reason why she pulled away.

“I’m glad I found you again,” she admitted, looking at him through her lashes, embarrassment flushing her features. Did she surprise herself with what she offered him? Was she surprised with his answer? He wished she would act on it, but it seemed like a promise to him. Or perhaps a threat. If he wanted her to make good on the offer, he’d have to stick around a little longer. He smiled and embraced her strongly around the shoulders, face nuzzling into her throat.

“I just hope you won’t regret it later, darling,” he sighed, “No matter how much I find your stubbornness endearing, I worry that this won’t end well.” He breathed her in, his arms crushing her even closer to his body. He wanted to savor this moment of peace. She reciprocated the embrace, her arms coiling around his neck.

Please, he thought to himself, please let us have more time for these moments.

They repositioned themselves so that Julian’s full body could fit on the bed. Still, the apprentice practically lay on top of him. She felt so small against his large, lanky body, and it only made his protective instincts flare brighter. He would be ruined if anything happened to her because of him. It was a cruel damned-if-he-did scenario. He wanted to be here, with her, basking in her light. But he also wanted her happiness and safety. Damn his selfishness. He looked at the ceiling, absentmindedly combing his fingers through her long locks as he thought. He deduced that he could lay there for days and have almost no regrets.

“Why are you so obsessed with flowers?” she eventually asked, her voice groggy. He breathed out a laugh and grinned.

“Well, doctors do a lot of reading, you know. A lot of plants have medicinal properties, so they’re a common topic of study. But one day, I stumbled across a book on floriography, and the concept of them taking on meaning, like a secret language, was intriguing to me.”

“Ah, so you’re a hopeless romantic somewhere in there,” she teased. He felt heat rise to his face in embarrassment.

“No, it was specifically research. Intrigue. Nothing I studied at length.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she chirped as she drew circles on his mostly exposed chest with her fingertip. “You didn’t have the book on you at the time of crafting my bouquet, yet everything seemed to match something you’d say. I assumed you were correct with it. Also, you knew what my flowers meant without any reference…and you knew about buttercups.”

He snorted, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I hardly see how knowing about buttercups makes me a floriography expert.” She shot him an unamused look, to which he shrugged, the smile never falling from his face. “I memorize things easily. It comes with the territory of being a doctor. Makes the job a lot simpler.” That answer seemed like enough, as the apprentice hummed out a clipped sound in reply.

“That’s a rather convincing story. You’ve got a pretty silver tongue, Doctor,” she mumbled, sounding more and more distant with every response. “Still think you’re a bit of a romantic at heart, though.”

He clenched his jaw, the embarrassed flush not fading.

“Pursuit of bodily pleasures is hardly romantic,” he defended dubiously. She turned her face to look at him, her eyes showing that she wasn’t taking the bait at all. He looked away, curling into himself a bit in mortification, which only made him squeeze her tighter. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing his response as a whisper into her ear.

“Only for you, my dear, do I have a soft, romantic side.” He kissed her temple, a small grumbled “happy?” following after. She blushed, a smile creeping onto her lips as she nodded, nothing but pure love and adoration reflected in those eyes. He sucked in a breath sharply, sure that his entire face was pink by now. Her giggle only confirmed that hunch. He stole a quick kiss, unable to fight her irresistible pull on him. It wasn’t his fault she never played fair.

Soon, her breathing became deep and even, and he stole a glance down at her to confirm his suspicions. She had fallen asleep on his chest, the constant motion of his hand through her hair lulling her. He frowned at himself, unable to enjoy the sentiment through the crushing weight of guilt on his heart. Of course she would be tired. She’d wasted so much time in the past two days concocting a plan that wasn’t even guaranteed to work, fighting past her very palpable anxiety and concern for him. He didn’t deserve this happiness. She was so good, and he didn’t know why she had been drawn to him.

A creak of the door made Julian’s pulse race, a protective arm snaking around the sleeping apprentice’s waist while he watched the curtain carefully.

“Ilya, I know you’re in there. My flowers are a mess again,” Mazelinka’s voice came from the hearth. He opened his mouth to reply, but then looked down at the sleeping beauty on top of him, and closed his mouth again, clenching his jaw. “Ilya! Are you finally sleeping?” she grouched, pulling the curtain back and shooting a glare into the room. Julian gave her a sheepish look as she took in their somewhat compromising position. She then looked to the floor, where the bouquet had fallen. A knowing smile crept onto her lips.

“Clever girl,” she noted, to which Julian smiled, pulling his fingers gently through her hair. “Told you that you wouldn’t survive that long without her,” she teased as she let the curtain fall back into place. Julian once again opened his mouth to protest, a small blush painting his cheekbones, but once again he closed his mouth without a word.

“Believe in her, Ilya. She wouldn’t have sought you out if you meant nothing to her,” Mazelinka spoke like a softly scolding mother, the tap of a wooden spoon against an iron cauldron punctuating her statement.

“I know,” he whispered with a smile, letting his head fall back as his arms coiled loosely around her. Her warmth was a welcome sedative, and he couldn't help but fall into sleep as well. Just like their previous evening together, everything that she was would ward off the nightmares that plagued him, which was more than welcome.

#julian devorak #doctor jules #asra #the arcana #nadia #faust #language of flowers #ilya #mazelinka #female apprentice #female mc #the chariot book #my writing #admin quill #the countess #count lucio #dr. jules #rowdy raven rattles

30 notes · View notes

angorith-arts · 5 years

Text

A Hopeful Reverse Ending

So I’m changing up the ending

Julian Devorak x fan apprentice (Elris)

(Rewritten Reverse Ending)

————

The door stood solitary in the crumbling Arcane realm. The aura of the Devil’s magic was especially potent here; it seemed to leak out from under the door and seep through the cracks in the wooden frame. Elris brushed off the dampness clinging to the rickety wooden sign hanging beside the mundane looking barrier. ‘The Hanged Raven,’ it read.

Malak and Parita shuffled nervously on Elris’s shoulders, the raven and magpie both eyeing their surroundings with distrust.

Elris gently lifted her avian familiar off of her shoulder and placed black and white bird on the signpost. “Stay here, you two,” she instructed as Malak hopped up to perch alongside his corvid counterpart, “I don’t know what to expect in there.”

“Be safe...” Parita croaked in Elris’s mind. The magician scratched her familiar’s jaw, just where she liked it, and smiled as her feathers fluffed up.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She adjusted her well-worn traveling cloak as the pair of birds dismounted her shoulders, pulling the dark fabric to lay more comfortably across her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Elris turned back towards the door and grasped the rickety handle. The cracked wood and chipped paint on the door reminded her of the Rowdy Raven, a bar that had become much more popular once word got out that the man who sacrificed himself to save the world had been a frequent visitor. But something about it was... forbidding. Like something inside didn’t want Elris to enter. She hesitated on the doorstep, suddenly unsure.

Elris heard Scout sniffle impatiently behind her. She glanced at the minor Arcana, who motioned with her fluffy hands to open the door. Her heart racing, the shaky mage pushed the heavy door aside.

The light within the disembodied pub was red hued and dim, but it offered enough clarity for Elris to instantly spot the lone patron in the corner booth. They were shrouded in their own puddle of shadows, hunched over in the corner where the light could barely reach. A long, dark cloak cascaded from their caved-in shoulders and dragged the floor below. A mountain of tankards and heavy glass mugs lay scattered across the table and floor around them. The swinging door hit the wall with a resounding thud, and the figure jolted as if startled, whipping their head upwards to face the door.

The frantic beating of Elris’s heart slammed to a stop as the organ leapt into her throat.

Her voice came in a breathy whisper.

“...Julian?”

The figure in the corner booth bristled. Literally. Black feathers that ran along his shoulders and arms and head ruffled upwards, making him look twice as big as he really was. A surprised expression slid onto his face. Within seconds, however, his expression had soured and he looked resolutely down at the tabletop. His eyes were shadowed by heavy brows, obscuring his expression from Elris’s view.

But it was him. It was him.

“Oh my god, Julian!” Elris’s voice rang with joy. The mage moved forwards on instinct, trembling as she reached a tentative hand towards her lost love. Those eyes, that face, she would recognize him anywhere.

But that wasn’t to say Julian hadn’t changed. His time trapped in the devil’s realm had changed him in much the same way that Lucio’s servitude to the Arcana had. He wasn’t exactly human anymore.

As her eyes adjusted more fully to the dim light, Elris could see in stark clarity the extent of the changes Julian had undergone. His pale complexion and shockingly red hair had been replaced by grey colored skin and dark plumage, which started at his brow and cheekbones and traveled downwards, trailing across his shoulders and down his arms and back. They lay flat down his chest and stomach, fluffing ouwards just below his collarbone and bare hips. His legs were folded under his chair, but instead of feet, long, black-scaled talons gripped the floorboards, drawing long gashes in the wood where they rested. His hands were similarly clawed and scaled, the long, sharp nails scraping against his pewter mug as his feathered hands tensed around it.

Tension. Why was there tension? In fact, this wasn’t the reaction Elris was expecting at all. Instead of joy, instead of excitement and celebration, Julian conveyed sheer and utter hopelessness and aggression. He stared hard at the table, refusing to look at Elris. His shoulders were hunched, but the mage could see bunched muscles trembling beneath his cloak of black feathers. His sharp face was twisted in a grimace, his lips pulled upwards in a jarring sneer. Elris hadn’t seen an expression like that on his face since the front he had put on while pleading guilty for killing Lucio. His altered state only made the gesture more discomforting.

“Julian?” Elris asked tentatively, heart sinking, “are you okay?”

His claws dug grooves into the pewter mug as he slammed it down on the table with a momentous rattle. Several of the tankards clattered to the floor, and the glass ones shattered around Julian’s avian feet. His feathers rose, his eyes burned. Elris, for the first time, found Julian truly frightening.

“You’ve made your point, Devil.” Julian sneered.

Elris felt her heart stop completely. She spoke around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “...what?”

“Dissipate, fall apart, do whatever you always do when I see through the illusion.” He seemed to recoil and shrink into himself then, although his cobalt eyes retained their intensity. “There’s nothing more you can take from me.”

The defeated tone of his voice made Elris’s throat completely close as tears pricked at her eyes. She choked out Julian’s name desperately, coming to the realization that this may all be hopeless. After all this time, after all they had done together, after Elris wandered the arcane realms for the stars know how long to find him, Julian didn’t even believe she was real.

“Julian, please,” pleaded the desperate magician, “I’m real, I’m here.”

“Ah yes, the begging.” Julian retorted scornfully. “You’ve done it all before.” He straightened and waved his hand dismissively. “Try something new this time, Devil.” Julian hunched back over and took another long swig of his drink.

The retort made Elris’s eyes well up. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. After we stopped the Devil I left immediately,” Elris watched as Julian’s face contorted in confusion.

“Stopped the Devil? Impossible.” He spat, but he looked unsettled. Some of the angry tension returned to his feathered shoulders. Elris continued unfazed.

“Asra said it was a fools errand. That I would never find you. He left after we found his parents here. But I knew you had to be out there, somewhere in the arcane realms. So I found Scout. Traded her my tarot deck for her help. I brought Malak and Parita-“

“Stop.” Julian hissed dangerously, rising slightly from his chair. The black feathered cloak on his back rustled outward suddenly, and Elris realized that it wasn’t a cloak at all. Julian had wings.

“Julian,” Elris tried to diffuse the tension, “I was starting to think I would never find you. I was so afraid of what the Devil did to you. But you’re here, and I can break your bonds, dispel whatever is left of the Devil’s chains.”

“Stop it now.”Julian stood, rising to his full height. He was immensely tall now, taller even than Muriel, perhaps. His clawed hands clenched at his side, his talons dug into the floorboards. His wings moved upwards and started to spread dangerously.

Desperately and thoroughly frightened, Elris tried again. “I’ve missed you,” she couldn’t keep the pleading tone out of her voice. All she had wanted was to find Julian, ever since the moment the Devil dragged her love away into the storm. “Please, Ilya. Let’s go home.”

“THATS ENOUGH!” Julian roared, his face twisting in agony and rage. He hurled his tankard at Elris, who had only enough time to drop down below the metal cup before it hit her. Instead, it clattered against the door frame, flipped itself over, and doused Elris with the alcohol inside.

The tankard fell to the floor with a heavy thunk. She shuddered to think what would have happened if it had hit her. Elris looked up at Julian, who had his back to her. His sides heaved and he trembled all over. His wings sagged. Elris could hear his ragged breathing from across the room. She moved to comfort him, but stopped suddenly short when a repugnant smell hit her nose.

Her eyes watered as though she had just been punched, her nose stinging from the strong alcohol scent. She wiped a splatter of liquid off her face. She recognized the smell.

“Ugh.” Elris made a disgusted noise deep in her throat, scowling down at her dripping clothes. There was no way that tankard could have held this much liquid; it must have been enchanted. “Did you seriously just douse me in Salty Bitters?”

Elris looked up to see that Julian had whirled around and was staring at her hard, eyes wide, wings extended, and mouth agape.

His voice was a husky rasp, full of desperation and tainted with the remnants of disbelief. “You didn’t disappear,” he stated numbly.

“Why would I do that?” The magician snapped.

“Elris?”

“In the flesh,” the magician picked herself up off the floor, holding her arms out at her sides. A drop of Salty Bitters slid off of a soaking strand of hair on her cheek. “And covered in liquor, now, thank you.” Elris added with irritation.

Julian didn’t reply. He took a shaky step forward, all of the strength he had drawn from his fury seemed to have left him. “It’s you,” he whispered as though he was afraid to say it out loud.

Elris softened. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, dingus.”

He took another step, but his knees gave out beneath him. Julian sank to the floor like all of the life had been taken out of him.

The mage rushed forwards to help him, bracing his shoulders while his hands grasped her forearms like a lifeline. “Woah, woah. Hey, take it easy.”

Julian sagged against Elris, her name falling from his lips over and over. His hands shook where they gripped her forearms, his claws digging uncomfortably into her skin. Elris saw tears drip down his beakish nose. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m here,” the mage assured him, running her hands over his shoulders and arms. His feathers were rough beneath her palms, like Parita’s felt when she hadn’t preened properly. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, darling.” Julian huffed out a shaky laugh in response.

They sat for a while and embraced. Elris couldn’t know how much time had passed; minutes, hours, one could never be sure. Time worked differently in the arcane realms, especially in ones that were actively falling apart.

“You, you can’t be here. It’s not safe.” Julian stammered eventually. His voice was raw and choked, Elris had to strain to hear him. He didn’t look her in the eye.

“I know. That’s why I had to come here. You need to come home, Ilya.”

His head snapped up. “Home? What home is there? What’s left? The Devil won. The realms collided, everything is over.” The transformed doctor shrunk into himself.

“What? No, they didn’t.” Elris replied, recoiling in surprise. “Asra and Nadia sabotaged the ceremony; they poisoned the courtiers who were lending the Devil their strength, and replaced Lucio’s blood in the pitchers with mine.”

A dry scoff. “Your blood? Really?” Julian pulled away slightly. Elris could tell his suspicions were returning.

She rushed ahead in her explanation. “I came back to life after dying, broke the laws of nature, so my blood is... different. It granted everyone immunity from the Devil’s compulsion. When the ritual failed, the Devil exerted so much of his power trying to force the realms together on his own, he became weak enough for us to bind.” Elris shuddered at the memory. The Devil’s display of power had been truly scarring, both physically and emotionally. But it had all been for nothing. With the help of Asra and the other party guests who held connections to the Arcana, Elris has been able to bind the Devil with his own chains and drag him back to his own realm.

Julian pulled away, shaking his head. “No. That’s... that’s not right.”

Elris reached forward and cupped Julian’s cheek, moving his face so he had to look her in the eye. He leaned into the contact, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he focused back on Elris’s face.

“Ilya.” She spoke firmly, but not unkindly. “We won. It’s over now.”

“That can’t be!” Julian dragged his face away from Elris’s touch. “Right now we’re- we’re in...” He trailed off. The room flickered momentarily, disappearing from sight to reveal a red-drenched wasteland of cracking stone and smoking rubble. The room flickered back into existence. He looked around in disbelief. “...are we?”

“No.” Elris asserted. “This is an illusion. We’re not in the Rowdy Raven, we’re in what’s left of the Devil’s realm. It’s crumbling and weak, but it’s the only place he still has any power.”

“No, I’ve tried to leave, the world is a wreck outside that door.” Julian pointed a clawed index finger at the open doorway.

“It’s an illusion, Love.” Elris insisted. She reached forwards and brushed her fingers over Julian’s chest, feeling the rough chains of the Devil’s bonds against his skin. They manifested at her touch. Julian shuddered. “The Devil is using the last of his power to keep you here. To get back at us for defeating him. He’s using your memories against you, trapping you in an illusion of your own subconscious making.”

Julian sagged, looking hopeless. Elris touched her forehead to his comfortingly. “I can break the chains, yours are brittle and I know how to do it.” Elris reached out to touch the chains again, but Julian reared back, wings flapping as he launched himself away.

“No! These are the only things keeping you safe from the Devil! If you break these...” he gripped the chains where they looped invisibly over his chest, “...I won’t be able to protect you.”

Elris moved forward and grasped Julian’s scaly hands with one of hers, cupping the side of his face with her free hand. “I don’t need you to stay trapped here just to protect me. The Devil is gone, we’ll be safe as soon as we leave this place. It’ll be okay.” Julian still didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m... look at me. I can’t go home. If I go back to Vesuvia I’ll be run out, and if they see you with me, you’ll be exiled too. I can’t do that to you.” He protested weakly. Elris could tell his heart wasn’t really in the attempt.

“They’ll welcome you,” she assured him, “everyone in Vesuvia and Prakra and beyond knows you as a hero. The way you look won’t change that. And the people who matter —Asra, Nadia, Portia and Mazelinka— they won’t care either. They’ll love you all the same. Just like I do.”

Julian’s eyes flicked up to meet Elris’s earnest gaze. He looked like he wanted to accept, like he wanted to be hopeful but wasn’t allowing himself to feel it.

“Please,” Elris whispered, bringing her face close to Julian’s, “let me do this for you.”

His response was minute, minuscule. Just a tiny tip of his head, a familiar look of longing in his eyes, and the barest trace of a smile on his lips. He brought his hands up to Elris’s face, touched her cheeks carefully, taking special care to keep his claws from touching her skin.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, my love?” Julian whispered breathlessly, closing the distance between them until he was tantalizingly close.

Elris answered with her lips on his.

The contact was soft and tentative, tainted with unfamiliarity from their time apart.

The kiss was brief, briefer than Elris would have liked. But when they pulled away from one another, both she and Julian were smiling. “You taste like Salty Bitters, dear.” Julian purred as he nestled into the crook of Elris’s neck. The feathers on his jaw tickled her cheek.

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” The magician retorted, stifling a laugh.

“Sorry, the illusions usually disappear after I douse them with alcohol.”

Elris chuckled. Her arms wrapped around Julian, clasping around his shoulders just above the wing joints. They sat for a while, relishing in one another’s presence and absorbing the fact that they were together again. Really and truly reunited.

Eventually, Julian repositioned and drew Elris in for another kiss. This one was longer, just as warm and savory and priceless as the first. Elris drew her hands up Julian’s chest, placing her hands over the brittle links of the chains around him. Between kisses, she whispered, “I’m going to break these.”

“Please,” Julian breathed in response before capturing her lips again.

Magic surged between them, crackling and glowing intensely. The chains burned red for a moment. Julian gasped, and they clanked to the floor, dissolving into ash as they fell.

He pulled away, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings experimentally.

“Better?” Elris asked.

“Immensely.” Julian replied, a hint of his former rakish smile flitting across his features. He kissed her once more before pushing himself to his feet, offering a hand to Elris once he was upright. She took it gratefully. They stood together, hands interlocked, and faced the doorway, which no longer looked as heavy or forbidding as it once did. The illusory pub started to dissolve around them.

“We should go.”

“Agreed.”

“Grab a drink for the road?”

“I think I’ve had enough Salty Bitters to last a hundred lifetimes.” Julian retorted.

“In that case-“The room gave a shudder, “exit stage left?” Elris asked. Julian nodded,and the pair of them dashed out of the doorway just before it melted into the ground, cut off from Julian’s deal as its power source. Only the signpost remained, the pair of corvids on it looking distinctly ruffled from the tremors. Parita jumped to Elris’s shoulder, the familiar brushing against her partner’s cheek as relief surged through their bond. Malak, still on the signpost, tilted his head and cawed at Julian, shifting on his feet.

“Hey there, old friend.” The transformed doctor smiled ruefully. Malak croaked again and hopped immediately onto Julian’s shoulder, settling himself in his usual place on Julian’s right and picking at some of the feathers there.

Scout stood up from where she was resting beneath a large, red tinted boulder in the wasteland of the Devil’s realm. She shook herself and motioned cheerfully for Julian and Elris to follow her, heading back the way they had come.

“Looks like it’s time to go.” Julian allowed a slight smile to grace his changed features.

“Already?” Elris remarked dryly.

Julian chuckled and leaned down to kiss her again, but was interrupted by a sharp bark and a stern look from Scout. Feathers ruffled, and Julian stood back up hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“We really should go,” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Elris agreed, twining her hand into his once more, “we should.”

And they walked, hand in hand, towards Elris’s gateway just outside the realm. Towards freedom, towards home, where they would never have to break apart again.

#julian devorak #reversed ending #silver lining #fan apprentice #bird julian #its still angsty but now its a little bit less bleak #*sobs*#please read this it took me like a week

31 notes · View notes