#she was doing laps in her mind palace on her knees throwing sand in the air i just know it

[s-aint-elmo]

dug up this handy dandy graphic i made last year to explain my kukugumi hcs on a sliding scale of touch-starved to touchy

(reasoning under the cut:)

hikari & maya: self-explanatory. you don’t look at either of these two and think “well-adjusted.” i wholeheartedly believe that the closest thing hikari had to a hug before seisho was a mr. white pillow and the closest thing maya had to a friend was her idol saijou claudine, of whom she has all the bonus dvd content

junna: she’s a normal person. neither touch-starved nor touchy but she gets points for dipping karen out of nowhere, though i maintain that that was mostly for The Drama and not an indicator of her usual physicality

banana: she gives hugs which bumps her above junna but i feel like she’s more of an acts of service kind of person, ya know? also she probably rarely is on the receiving end of a comforting hug bc of her insistence to take care of everybody else, all the time. hop to it, junna!

futakao: literally always in contact with one another. the only reason they’re not higher is that they mostly just cling to each other (and banana, once, notably)

mahiru: she has four siblings and two children in the form of her roommates (one of whom she glomps on-screen), she has more physical affection than she knows what to do with. she’s bumped down in rankings because she’s a little more reserved than the next two menaces

claudine: she will whisper bonjour into your ear with no prompting, drape her arm over your seat while she slides next to you, make you believe she’s gonna kiss you with a hand on your cheek and a sudden closing of distance, spring a surprise waltz on you, hug you after battling through the school basement bogeymen on your first day of class to introduce herself etc. etc. and she will do it all with no shame whatsoever. i don’t think we acknowledge just how much of a cassanova kuro is just because she’s too often nerfed by maya but goddamn the effect she had on asami in overture, amemiya, lalafin and the frontier girls in the lovers’ bond story, even yachiyo in twenty faces--saijou claudine is canonically bitchless but if she knew what a work-life balance was she’d pull. that’s my manifesto

karen: she beats claudine by a slim margin because of the torpedo-like quality of her enthusiasm and the inescapable strength of her grip. if kaoruko had the lower body strength to drag karen across the floor in episode 6, karen would have held fast and let her do the dragging. 

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

y’all i’m so attached to this au-

anyways! based on chapter 58 of cress by marissa meyer!

tw: discussion of blood, violence, chess has a pretty gorey nightmare in the first section (you can skip the first few paragraphs and pick up at “Chess opened her eyes with a gasp” to miss it), blades, pain medication, mention of attempted murder/murder, hallucinations

word count: 2275

In Chess's dreams, she was being chased by a wolf.

She was running through a field of crops with thick mud that sucked at her shoes, fog soaking her jacket and leggings, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging and her heart thundering. Dry leaves crunched underfoot, quickly being swallowed by the mud, and something in the back of her head dimly registered that she was being chased through the sugar beet fields on the Benoit farm back home. Even as she thought it, something began to glow in the distance - the lights of a farmhouse. Her house. The house she’d grown up in, the house that had always been safe and warm. If she could just make it to the farmhouse, then everything would be okay.

But no matter how hard and fast Chess ran, the farmhouse didn’t get closer. It almost seemed that for every step she took, the farmhouse was three steps farther away. She might’ve been running for hours or days or months or years, but the farmhouse got no closer. Eventually, the fog closed in and swallowed the farmhouse, the warm glow blinking out of existence.

She tripped, landing on her hands and knees with a shout of pain, mud sticking to her clothes and caking her braid. The damp wetness soaked into her bones, making them ache from the cold. She looked up, and just a few feet away was the wolf, crouched low to the ground, eyes flashing with hunger and anger. Her hands desperately searched for a weapon on the ground, something, anything, as the wolf got closer, and closer, and closer…

There. Something smooth and hard under her fingers. It was surprisingly easy to yank from the mud. She barely had time to look at it, to register the blade glistening in the moonlight under the layer of mud, the sanded wooden handle - an axe - before the wolf leaped in the air, jaws unhinged, sharp teeth reflecting in the axe blade. Chess lifted the axe reflectively, bracing herself, just moments before the wolf would’ve landed on her chest and ripped her to shreds.

The axe cut clean through the wolf, slicing it in two pieces from snout to tail. Its blood splashed all over Chess’s face and chest, and she heard twin thumps as the two halves fell on either side of her head. A choking sob fought its way up her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, sure she was going to throw up.

Then the two halves of the wolf began to move, shifting beside her into two human-like shapes, each wearing half of the pelt. The fog began to clear as two hands reached towards her, and Chess stifled a cry - her grandmother and Cairo, welcoming her home.

Chess opened her eyes with a gasp.

Instead of her grandmother’s old military jacket and Cairo’s shining eyes, all she saw were steel bars. The air was filled with the scent of ferns and moss. The chatter of birds was so overwhelming she almost covered her ears.

A soft yip came from somewhere to the side, sounding concerned - the white wolf. Chess rolled over to look at him - on the other side of the pathway, the wolf sat, watching her. He tilted his head a little bit, and it struck her how much he almost seemed like the neighbors’ dogs back home.

Home…

It wasn’t the first time she thought it, but Chess was still shocked by the near-physical pain in her chest, the longing for the rolling fields and blue skies and familiar faces. She wanted to go home.

“He likes you,” said a voice.

Chess inhaled sharply and sat up, eyes searching wildly for the source of the voice. A girl about her age was sitting in her cage, hands folded in her lap, watching her curiously, close enough to touch. Chess tried to move away, but pain shot through her hand, and she fell back to the ground with a hiss of pain. Her hand was wrapped in bandages, but her pinky was the worst of it - during her trial, Levana had forced her hand to pick up a hatchet and use it on the pinky finger of her other hand, taking it off at the second knuckle. The pain had been bad enough that she’d wished to pass out, although she hadn’t. But while that was the worst of her pain now, it wasn’t all of it - there were scratches and cuts and bruises all over her entire body, some from the scuffle on the satellite and some from that awful Lunar boy she’d stayed with for several days and most of the aches from sleeping on hard floors for more nights than she could count.

The strange girl didn’t react to Chess’s fear. She sat quietly against the wall, her back straight, looking interested and curious. She clearly wasn’t another prisoner - she wore a pale pink dress that looked out of place against the dark regolith Chess’s cage was carved from. Her honey-brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in healthy, shiny curls, half of it tied up in a ponytail. Her eyes were a pale blue, sparkling with excitement, and Chess realized that her left eye had three scars below it, cutting in straight, parallel lines down her cheek - almost like perpetual tear tracks.

She was the most beautiful person Chess had ever seen.

And it was that beauty that made Chess realize she was wearing another glamour - another trick.

“Ryu and I were wondering if that was a very good dream or a very bad one?” the girl asked in a sweet voice. “You were mumbling to yourself quite a lot.”

Chess pushed away the lingering memory of the dream, the image of Cairo and her grandmother smiling at her. “Who the hell are you? And-and who’s Ryu?”

The girl smiled. “Ryu is the wolf, silly!” She turned to look at the wolf across the path. “Haven’t you been neighbors for four months now? Ryu, why haven’t you introduced yourself?”

The wolf blinked big yellow eyes at her.

The girl looked back at Chess and leaned forward, like she was sharing a big secret. “And I am your new best friend. But you mustn't tell anyone, because all the guards think that I am your master and you are my pet - they don’t know that my pets are my dearest friends of all! We will fool all of them, you and I.”

Chess struggled to comprehend what the girl was saying. None of it made sense, or answered Chess’s question.

The girl reached for a basket beside her that Chess hadn’t noticed before. It seemed like a picnic basket, lined with some soft, silvery material. “I thought that today, we could perhaps play doctor and patient! I’ll be the doctor, of course. You seem in need of some care.”

Chess sat up and pressed herself against the opposite wall. “You’re not a doctor.”

“I know. That’s why it’s pretend.” The girl smiled wider. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“No, actually, I’m really not.” Chess’s fingers pressed against the rough stone floor. “I’ve been mentally and physically tortured, I’m starving, I’m thirsty, I’m locked up in a cage in a goddamn zoo-”

“Menagerie.”

“-and I’m hurting in a thousand different places. And now some crazy girl comes in here and wants to play make-believe? Like we’re best friends or some shit?” Chess scoffed. “I’m good. Go away.”

The girl sighed and leaned her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. “You shouldn’t call me crazy. The guards don’t like that. Even though it’s true.”

Neither of them broke the silence for a moment.

“I know it’s true. You want to know how I know?” The girl leaned forward again. “The palace walls have been bleeding for years, but I am the only one who sees.”

More silence.

“No one believes me, no matter how many times I say it,” the girl continued. “Sometimes I can’t help but step in it, and then I track bloody footprints everywhere, and I worry that perhaps a wolf soldier will smell it and come for me. But if the blood was real, don’t you think the palace maids would clean it up?”

Chess tried and failed to think of an answer.

The girl pulled a small box wrapped in ribbon. “These are for you. Doctor’s orders are to take one pill twice a day.” She handed Chess the box with a wink. “It isn’t real medicine, of course. It’s just candy. Sour apple petites - they’re my favorite.”

“I’m not eating one of those.”

“Why not? It’s a gift.” The girl opened the box and held it out to Chess - four small, round red candies, shiny and smooth. Chess didn’t move, and after a moment, the girl set the open box down on the floor between them.

“What do you want from me?” Chess asked.

“I want to be friends.”

“A friendship based on lies?” Chess laughed sharply, humorlessly. “Of course you don’t mind that. You’re Lunar. Lying is all you know how to do.”

The girl looked at her lap. “I’ve only ever had two friends - two human friends. One became a pile of girl-shaped ashes when we were very little, and the other has gone missing. I don’t know if he’ll ever return.” She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. “But I asked the stars to send me a sign that he was all right, and the next day was a trial like any other trial, except standing before me was an Earthen girl who’d seen him.”

“Can you make sense? Please?”

The girl leaned forward, closer than she had before, close enough that Chess could almost feel her breath across her face. “Is he all right? Sybil said he was still alive, that he probably was supposed to be piloting that ship, but she didn’t say whether he’d been injured. Do you think he’s safe?”

“Who?”

The girl smiled again, almost wistfully. “Clark Winslett. Sybil’s guard. The man with the blond hair and the kind eyes and the smile that holds the sun. Is he all right?”

Chess blinked, baffled. She didn’t remember much from the fight on the Rampion, and what few memories she did have were blurry. But while her focus had been mostly on the thaumaturge, she did faintly remember a blond guard.

But the smile that holds the sun? Bullshit.

“I remember two people that tried to kill us,” she muttered.

“And he was one of them?” the girl pressed, seemingly unconcerned with the killing part.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The girl smiled gleefully. “Did he look okay?”

“He looked like he was trying to kill me,” Chess said. “But I bet my friends killed him first. That’s our typical procedure for people who work for your queen.”

The girl’s smile vanished. “You’re lying.”

“Nope. And he deserved it.”

The girl began to shake, almost hyperventilating. The wolf - Ryu - pawed at the bars of his enclosure, whimpering. Chess tamped down her guilt and told herself she wouldn’t call for the guard’s help.

The girl got her breathing under control and sat up, her hand resting on her basket. “I see. Well, I-I should go.” She moved as if to stand, but then stopped. “I wasn’t lying about the bleeding walls. Soon, the palace will be so soaked with blood that Artemisia Lake will be so red, even Earthens will see it.”

“I don’t care,” Chess said. “And I’m not going to feel sorry for you. Your glamours and your mind control - you people have built your entire civilization around those lies, and I don’t want anything to do with it.”

The girl crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Chess, but said nothing for almost a minute. Chess lifted her chin and looked the girl in the eye, refusing to be afraid.

“I haven’t used my glamour since I was twelve years old,” the girl said at last. “That’s why I have these visions. Why I’m going mad.”

Chess didn’t show her surprise as the steel bars of the cage opened and the girl ducked out, taking her basket but leaving the candy. “Your Highness,” said the guard as he closed and relocked the cage door.

Chess listened to the footprints retreat down the path, staring at the candies, her heart thundering in her ears.

Your Highness.

Princess Annleigh.

The queen’s stepdaughter.

Annleigh was rumored to be more beautiful than Levana herself - which was why the queen had given her those scars. Even Earth knew about her, about her unspeakable beauty, about her scars… though Chess had never heard about the girl going mad.

The candies lay in front of her still, tempting her. Chess had no reason to trust her, but she’d finished her one small meal hours ago, and she wouldn’t be fed until the next day. Her stomach began to ache, and her head spun, and while she was proud of how long she made it, eventually she reached for the box and lifted one of the candies from the shreds of paper it was nestled in. It was smooth as glass between her teeth and cracked easily, the warm, melty center sweet and sour on her tongue. Nothing, nothing, had ever tasted so good.

But it was nothing compared to the sensation that expanded through her chest, down to her legs and into her fingers. A feeling of warmth, of comfort, that took her pain away with it.

Chess managed a smile up at the glass ceiling, at the stars beyond it. Perhaps the princess wasn’t so cruel after all.

[commander-orca]

COTW fanfiction

CHAPTER 3: PINK RIBBON

The small bedroom was comfortable and welcoming. Its only window made penetrate through diaphanous curtains, a warm and soft light which diffused with lightness. Its bare walls and their clay consistency, dull and shapeless, could have brought austerity and coldness, but the light entered, warming the room. At its center sat a creaking old rocking chair that rocked by itself, supporting a stack of books and a wooden bed facing it. The furniture had been well chosen, so as to give off a rustic and simple atmosphere. Suoh had kept his word. A thin layer of sand had piled up on the clay which served as the covering on the ground. Anywhere else it would have sounded rude, but on Faleina, where sand seeped into every nook and cranny, the cleanliness was just fine. Either way, Orca didn't care. He would hate to be taken care of under these circumstances. The mere fact that he had received this morning a visit from a native making him bring his breakfast was enough to make him uncomfortable.

The man was sitting on the bed, awake a good hour ago. The bowl of herbs he'd received earlier, resting on his lap. Orca had never seen with his eyes these plants with the original forms but they seemed to him to be bamboo shoots. These plants were succulent and he was pleasantly surprised; they had the tenderness of fish and the sweetness of milk. Their taste was incomparable to anything he had tasted. This subtle scent of vanilla carried her away to an elsewhere sweeter and brighter than this world. He saw smiles for a moment and lush green meadows ... Orca wondered for a moment if the world of his dreams could have contained such good ones. If this world of flowers from parallel universes that he had dreamed of completing could have fomented such a beautiful creation. Then he shook his head. He had made his decision yesterday. He was giving up the idea of ​​going back in time. Nevertheless, he kept asking himself ... Did he make the right choice? If he was wrong once again about the legitimacy of the good plan to follow ... He was sure to collapse for good.

It was then that he was brooding over these dark thoughts that the door opened halfway and a young girl entered the room, discreet. Orca looked up, preparing to fire another local resident, but the sight he encountered petrified him in the spot. For a moment he couldn't breathe. He could only look at her and bathe in the halo of that blissful joy that she exhaled. His sister stood there in front of him in a pretty powder pink dress that lit up his face. A long white ribbon had been tied around her waist and she was smiling. She was smiling. His eyes brimming with light left Orca stunned and he remained silent, unable to make any sound since at that moment all words were flying away. This vision seemed to him to be an apparition. He would only have believed it achievable in his dreams, when he imagined his sister by his side, together, happy. But she was there, very close to him, her radiant expression aimed in his direction. It was everything he had ever wanted ...

"Did you sleep well big brother?" Lykos asked, his voice tender.

Orca found himself unable to recover, too busy looking at her that he was. After a moment of silence, he finally looked for an answer.

" Pretty good ".

And it was true. Apart from his prosthesis which had thrown his leg a few hours before dawn, his night had been comfortable.

"I'm so happy you came to live here!"

"It's temporary," Orca retorted coldly, unsettled by this unequivocal remark.

Lykos seemed to notice his confusion as she approached him and took his hands gently. What she had once taken for a form of bluntness was nothing but protection, against words that shook her. She understood better now.

"You don't need to decide right away," she patiently assured him, "Just let me show you why I stayed and why I would like you to stay too…"

His brother let himself sit up, a little hesitant but resigned to accompany him. After all, visiting the island would be useful if he wanted to save the Clay Whale as he had promised. And if he really integrated the war council, having a good knowledge of the place would be essential in the event of an attack and in order to plan possible evacuations. Carried away by his sister's hand, he followed her outside, blinking to get used to the sun that was already beating heavily on the island at this hour. Together, they crossed the sandy streets that meandered through a district of low, round houses identical to his. The still damp linen hung from the windows without panes and their colors gave an air of celebration to the new day however harmless which was announced for its inhabitants. Orca watched it all, confused by so many charms, but he kept returning his gaze to his sister, his eyes following the pale ribbon that swirled around her waist. As they made their short trot, the houses grew out of steam and unfolded green gardens and better ventilated cobblestone streets. Further north, the cries of young people and the towing of boats could be heard in the miniature harbor. As they cut through the orchard, a sour smell curled around them. Gathered around a tree, young people were picking large ripe fruits in baskets. One of them sported dark brown hair that had been tied into a ponytail.

"Could I see Itia?" Orca inquired, the sight of the children having suddenly reminded him of the young woman.

" Of course ! "

The man lost himself in thought, trying to guess if Itia was okay. He knew she was being looked after by the few caregivers on the ship. She was obviously in good hands and should be up and running quickly; the thought reassured him. Once put back, it would be perfectly in place here. Itia had seen her native land crumble and her loved ones and everyone else being slaughtered before her eyes. She had more in common with the locals here than anyone, there was no doubt that they would get along wonderfully and offer her a place among them. However, a doubt assailed his mind. During the negotiations on Karkarias, she had suffered non-minor injuries. And through his fault once again. Itia could have consequences for life ...

"Are you crying, big brother?"

 Orca halted and noticed that the tears had spilled onto her cheeks. He wiped his eyes slowly, his face disappearing into the long bangs of his hair. Lykos just smiled at him and started walking again." 

Do not worry. It was just a few scratches ”.

Did he dramatize things? He kept his eyes on the ground. Lykos was half hiding her amusement. Little by little she gave in to a heartfelt laugh.

"I have the impression of finding you little by little ..."

In the center of the island, the four majestic towers of the island crossed on the height and glittered with solar reflections. All the buildings were decorated with conches and other sybinic objects that sometimes emerged from the sea of ​​sand. Children in mismatched clothes were playing in the main square, having fun throwing a yellow pebble on the cobblestones. The pebble rebounded a few times before landing in a box that had been drawn on the ground. The winner heaped up a small mound of stones on his side, such seemed to be their game. Upstream from the square, stood a wall which separated the town center from a cove overlooking a rocky beach. Sitting on this wall, the Prince of the Kingdom of Amonlogia, watched the game with great interest. Nearby, three children were chatting on the steps of a staircase. Mechanical parts of all kinds littered the ground at their feet, and assembly plans formed a jumbled pile on their knees. The last child, sitting behind them paid little attention to them, busy scribbling in a pocket notebook.

“Chakuro! Her sister called, waving her arm briskly.

The boy's face lit up and, eagerly slipping his writings and his notebook into his large bottle apron, he rushed towards them.

"Are you showing your brother the Whale, Lykos?" He asked, his excitement piercing through her breathless voice.Lykos responded by nodding enthusiastically and Chakuro took her by the shoulders for a short moment, a mark of affection that Orca did not miss. He could see the warmth that emanated from her gaze when he looked at her, the attention he gave her and that particular tenderness. She seemed to be a truly precious person to him. Chakuro then turned to Orca, his hands pressed to his chest.

" And you sir ? What do you think of the Whale? "

Chakuro's mistrust was not easy to read. At first glance, he seemed quite warm and open to conversation. He was considerate, cared for his well-being, besides being unmistakably sincere, wishing the best for him. However, its posture did not deceive, indicated all of his dismay; his body, turned outwards, showed that he only wanted to find an excuse that would allow him to escape. Those arms he crossed over his chest were like armor protecting him from him. Orca understood such a reaction. How to blame him? After all, he was the murderer of his comrades ...And he was also in an awkward position to answer her. To neglect the charm of the island by responding too casually would be ungrateful of him. However, showing too much vehemence to praise the beauty of this country would be extremely inappropriate, given that he had sought from the beginning, only to reduce it to nothing.

"It's a beautiful place," Orca said at last, choosing his words carefully.

His words seemed to please the young boy as he smiled back at him.

“It makes me really happy that you like this place. You will see, you will get attached to it quickly. The Whale is so wonderful that even the Princes leave their palaces to come and live there! "

At her words, he nodded towards the wall, catching Rochalizo's attention. The latter greeted him in return, smiling, his hand in a peak on his forehead and looking indolent. Then, seeing Orca, his face closed and he glared at her.

"It is likely, indeed," Orca said, looking away from Chakuro.

The two young people who had remained behind came to meet them, having preferred to walk up to them. The first, named Nezu, donned a peach-colored beanie over his smooth skull and had small hazel eyes. The other, Roh, was a studious-looking weakling, red metal glasses resting on the root of his nose. They introduced themselves quickly and exchanged a few words with him and his sister. Orca expected to be left with the few commonplace expressions of politeness they exchanged. However, that was without counting on one of the boys who interrupted the conversation with a curious request.

"Excuse me sir, I wanted to ask you ... I noticed that you are limping ... It's because of that thing, isn't it?" He said, pointing at his prosthesis.

“Don't be rude, Nezu!” Lykos scolded him.

“It wasn't my goal, it was just a question!

-It's still inappropriate! "

The question caught Orca off guard, but he answered it anyway, assuming his most placid air. Such a small story was far from making him uncomfortable.

“Indeed, this prosthesis is new to me. I lost my leg in an accident and a friend was forced to amputate it for me with what little equipment he had. He was able to carve one for me emergency dummy, in a sandfish tusk. I'm not quite used to it yet ”.

Roh and Nezu hung on his lips throughout his explanations. Their eyes were shining, certainly imagining the new possibilities open to them and their view of technology. Orca could almost see inventions swarming their minds. It was clear that the two children would not deprive themselves from today, to try to extract information from him about the technical advances within the Empire. The Whale's gadgets and designs could seem both more primitive and accessible at the same time, as if, compared to his native land, time had stood still here. Obviously, only a few hundred people populated this island, resulting in fewer brains at work. But that was far from the case; a frozen country would not have continued to create and imagine all these curious technical objects that he had glimpsed on his arrival. Whale technology had simply taken another route.

"So ... you need some kind of cane!" Roh cried.

These children had an acute attraction for science, the slightest invention was enough to put them in a strong state of frenzy. Were they even aware, the man wondered, of the price these inventions in the Empire had cost. How many human lives had been required ... Science sometimes helped. But most of the time, it came for the benefit of Man.

“I had one. Unfortunately, I misplaced her… ”Orca lied, still smiling at them.

The idea flashed through both of their brains at the same time and exploded in their faces, waving their arms and legs. A moment later the children were feverish, trembling from the inventor's fever. They ran away, barely taking the time to take a last look over their shoulders.

"Don't worry M'sieur!" We will make you one again!

-Yeah, even it will be even more beautiful and more efficient! "

The three friends watched them run off, then Chakuro and Lykos turned to Orca, smiling happily. Orca didn't look at them. He felt an invisible pain pinch his heart and some sadness overwhelm him. So much free and disinterested kindness scared him. How could you be so generous to someone who had caused you so much trouble? Did the kindness of the inhabitants of the Whale therefore have no limits?

[vide0-nasties]

i would LOVE to learn more about eustacia, she seems like a such interesting character, sooooo 6, 7, 8, 20 :^) and 27 for the apprentice ask meme))

Thank you so much for taking an interest in my weird oddball girl!! :’***

6. Do they personality shift depending upon certain people?Who does it change for and how so?

When she woke up to Asra’s voice and Asra’s hands, she wasempty as a cracked vessel. Void of everything except what had dried at thebottom: anger. Gut-burning fury, eye-gouging rage, blind-invincibility wrath. It’san armor formed around a feeble and twitching thing, a pale little body namedfear, but Eustacia keeps it under a punishing rein.

She is the masterof this hideous beast hiding a sickly core, and the master does not listen. The master commands.

In the palace, under Nadia’s scrutiny and growing affection,she doesn’t fold and run. She doesn’t lash out and sling insults and degradationslike daggers. She throws her shoulders back, holds herself to full height, andtowers. Her footsteps are not light, and neither is her gaze when it lands oncourtiers. When her mouth-wound bleeds speaking to Nadia, it bleeds withhonesty.

When Asra returns from a long trip, his dragging feetcarrying a stooped spine, exhaustion hanging heavy on him like a yoke, and hedoes not yield answers, she doesn’t corner him like she could. She doesn’t playwolf to the rabbit, doesn’t snap her jaws and raise her hackles. He is hurt,and the hurt gets worse when she presses. She smothers the wolf and takes careof him, as he has always taken care of her.

Always, Julian has something quick and clever to say, untilthe moment he doesn’t. His tongue stops flashing silver, and he turns a balefuleye on her, looking so pathetic it might be a mercy to kill him. He wants to behurt, and she hates the part of herself that delights when she does thehurting. Because she hates this part of herself more than she likes Julian, andbecause she does like Julian, she doesn’t give him what he wants.

#’s 7, 8, 20 (nsfw), and 27 under the cut!

7. Talk about your apprentices’ backstory. How did they endup with the shop? What’s their relationship (or lack thereof) with theirparents? Traumatic childhood maybe?

What was it like foryou growing up? Asra asks this so bright and warm, chasing the tail of hisown tale, like he’s making light of his own misfortune and hoping hers isbetter. Eustacia wishes she was raised kindly and gently, maybe on a meadow cutthrough with a brook.

Not in the frigid moorlands manor on shale cliffsoverlooking a black sea, then on the decks of a hundred pirate ships, then all over the cold southern andcentral lands. Thousands of miles on the soles of a girl who didn’t meet thesun until she was four.

Were that her mother wasn’t a four-hundred-year-old selkiesea witch with a sense of love so warped it was easily wielded like a sickleblade. A woman that carved curses in the walls and burnt black when she touchediron.

Were that her father wasn’t a famous adventurer who hated tospare the rod and spoil the child. A man that stole his wife’s sealskin andburnt it to prove her imprisonment.

They killed each other. Mother cursed father, stole Eustaciawhen she answered to a different name, and set to the seas. Father found motherten years later, and both boats went up in flames, and then down into the deep.A mother’s last act of kindness, robbing her daughter of everything she’d everknown.

Another ten years with the travelling witches, learning theimportance of salt tears, brick dust, and the powerful spaces above doorways, arefusal to go to war, and another massacre. Witches at the stake, the seasrising in indignation, and Eustacia opening her eyes to what felt like acres ofcorpses, hiding among them.

“Not good,” she tells him, fetching up his hand and kissinghis knuckles in the shop inherited from a distant aunt that now lies cold inthe cold hard ground. “Now, I’m a much happier thing.”

8. How does your apprentice express affection? Outwardly?Most subtle-like?

Julian doesn’t flop, he crashes. He falls out like a horsewith a broken neck, landing on the pillows beside Eustacia with such force she bounces and barks. His boots slamagainst the floorboards when his legs skate from under him, and he grins. “Oh,would you look at that, you areawake.”

He drops his head back, still smug-mugging her, handsinnocently folded in his lap. “I was dozing,” she snorts, rolling to face him.She hooks her leg over his knee and drops her chin on his shoulder, making sureshe’s breathing directly in his ear for maximum annoyance. “Your jackets areoff. Are you staying for long at all?”

“As long as you let me, or until the sun comes up. Whichevercomes first.”

“Vampire,” she accuses, putting a hand under his shirt torest over his ribs. She scoots closer, pressing her mouth behind his ear,smelling his hair. His pulse speeds under her touch, legs shift to let hercloser. “Gargoyle.”

“Are you trying to cuddle me or constrict me?” he laughs,but he lifts his shoulder for her when she forces herself half under it. Thepressure of his weight feels good, reassuring. “Don’t go to sleep,” he sniffs,wrapping his hand around the back of her knee and squeezing, “I just got here.You’re being an awful host.”

“I didn’t justbreak into someone else’s shop,” she mumbles, kissing his neck. The hand underhis shirt travels to his throat, stroking it the way one pets a pack animal.When she feels him swallow hard, she applies her teeth, taking his deltoid inher mouth and gently gnawing, like a very soft-mouthed dog falling asleep on abone.

“Are you chewingon me?” He sounds something verydifferent from offended.

Mhmm.

20. (NSFW) Does your character have any kinks? What arethey? Have they ever been acted upon?

Asra’s pretty with his hands bound to the headboard, he’spretty in her lingerie, he’s pretty blindfolded, and he’s pretty with her oil-soakedfingers inside him. He’s going to look exquisite when he takes the piece harnessedto her hips.

She leans over him, teasing him with kisses to his swollenlips. She lets her fingers do their work, taking turns either brushing thesweet spot that makes his back arch and toes curls, or laying into itrelentlessly, until she thinks he’s liable to scream.

In her smokiest voice, growling against his ear, “Asra, Ihave to confess a very important thing to you.”

“Tell me,” hebreathes, almost a whine. He tries to turn and catch her mouth, or maybedislodge the scarf from his eyes. “Anything. You can tell me anything.”

She rears away, biting the inside of her cheek when herealizes she’s moved and pipes his complaint wordlessly. That changes into agasp when she runs the flat of her tongue over his nipple, pinching it verygently between her teeth before she sucks. “Here is my confession,” she tellshim, kissing his stomach and working him so hard her fingers and wrist mightsnap.

Asra twitches, gasps, and pants. Admittedly, her mouth doesgo dry seeing him try to clamp his legs shut, especially with the silk folds ofher black negligee tucked between them. “Eustacia!”he near howls when she retreats completely, leaving him panting and empty.

Taking hold of his hips, she settles between his knees,letting the head of her false cock brush against him. With an obscene amount ofoil in her palm, she strokes the length and tells him, “I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you, but you’re only going to cum once I’vetold you.”

27. Due to the “memory issues” that permeate the game: doesyour apprentice ever experience déjà vu and they don’t know why? What triggeredthe déjà vu?

It’s…it’s just a paperlantern. A white sphere, the width of her shoulders in diameter. Nothingspecial, hung up with a dozen others in the market. But, if that’s all…why doesshe…?

Nine days. Nine years.Travellers. Green water on black sand. Holdyour hands this far apart, concentrate—

Thunderbolt-pain crashes through her skull, down her spine,and she coughs, chasing the memory away. Breathe, be present, lead with yourheart. Listen to him, Eustacia, for oncejust listen to your master’s voice inyour mind.

Inhaling heavy through the mouth, exhaling heavy through hernose, she returns to herself and the pain fades. Her hands float at waist-level,shoulder-width apart. A flicker of white-gold crackles between her spread palmsuntil she claps them and dismisses the magic.

The hair on her arms stands on end. Even though she knowsbetter, she wishes she had chased the ghosts. Even though it might’ve hurt, shewishes she could catch them. Knowing something—anything—would be better than feeling like less than half a person.

Asra comes home smelling like the road and bearing gifts. Asack of polished fire opals, and a gold-and-abalone choker. “I thought thosewould match your ears,” he says, pointing at his and meaning the stretchers shealways has in. “It looks good against your coloring and blue glass.”

His smile fades looking at the bottle glass pendant thathangs low on her chest. “How’ve you been? Anything eventful happen? Interestingcustomers? Interesting customers?” heasks, cocking his head mischievously.

“Have you ever heard of travelling witches?” she asks,casual as you please. “The number nine was important to them?”

“Huh. No, I don’t think so,” he says carefully, and Eustaciaisn’t sure of whether he’s being honest. He motions for the stairs, suggesting,“Come on. I��ll fix us tea and breakfast. We can try finding these travelersafter.”