#that being said. i have been listening to the alchemy on repeat for the past two hours. so. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

primofate · 3 years

Text

Breaking up Part 2 Albedo x gn!reader

Sorry it took so long! Haha. Yeah tumblr effed over for me. But here it is! :D

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst? NOT PROOFREAD

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 1) (Part 3 - Final)

“Sucrose... Do you know where Y/N went?”

5 days 3 hours and 12 minutes. He’d been counting. He’d been counting since you left. It was only today that he had the courage to ask Sucrose about it.

Sucrose jumps at the sudden call of her name.

Albedo had not been the same. The frequent mistakes in the lab proved it. The constant slips of the hand and test tubes shattering on the floor told Sucrose that perhaps that was how his heart looked like too.

“...No, I don’t,” Sucrose simply says, then lets the silence of the lab fill the air. Only the bubbles from their experiments hanging. It was still for a moment, Sucrose going back to her calculations and research. Albedo sat in front of his alchemy set, blankly staring at it.

He doesn’t even understand what being “tired” feels like anymore. He hasn’t had a decent sleep. Every small movement in the house, every whisper of the wind he would bolt up in bed, thinking it was you coming in from the front door. Sometimes he would hear someone shuffling, he would stop and listen for you, but then realizes that the sound was the sound of his legs under the covers, trying to keep warm without you around.

Sucrose glances up at her mentor. He’s buried his face in his hands, his hair in slight disarray. She knew what was going to happen next. He was going to stand up and just walk away from the lab, and Sucrose was not going to see him until tomorrow again.

Tomorrow, the cycle would repeat.

Albedo couldn’t function. It was pathetic. He really thought that he must be such a sight right now, eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair down and clothes a little unruly. He ran away from the lab again. He abandoned his “important” experiment and went back home, retreating in his room, falling on his knees and slumping on the bed in front of him.

He buried his face into his arms and tried to piece his heart back together.

“Albedo, will you ever get tired of me?”

There was a soft hint of a frown on your face. Silly you, Albedo thought. Always worried about being apart from him. He only smiles and cups your chin in his hand, leans in close to press his forehead against yours to whisper, “Never,”

His fists clutch at the bedsheets, the fabric scrunching up under his hands. Every.damn.time. he tried to take a break, he would be reminded of you. Every thing reminded him of you. Breathing reminded him of you. It was as if you were right beside him and yet you weren’t.

It was him. He was supposed to be the one asking “Y/N, will you ever get tired of me?” He was supposed to be the one worried. But he hadn’t been because he had taken you for granted. He thought that you’d always just be there, waiting for him patiently as you always had but now that he was alone, he realized just how lonely this silence could be.

“You must have been lonely...waiting here for me in this silence...”

His voice was muffled by the sheets, and he didn’t know who he was talking to. He did that a lot these days. Saying things that he wished you could still hear.

The next day, just as Sucrose predicted. It was the same. Halfway through his experiment Albedo stopped, and stared at nothing in particular. She wondered if, whenever he did that, he remembered the things he said to you that day.

But, just as Sucrose thinks today would end up the same...

it didn’t.

“Big brother Albedo!” Klee stormed into the lab, the door slamming open really loud. “Oh...I’m sorry, I didn’t check the sign... I...” Klee stepped out to look at the door sign and found “KEEP OUT” still there. “Oh no...! I did a mistake! Sorry big brother,” the little girl fumbled with her fingers and swung from side to side to show her apology.

A hint of a smile appears on Albedo’s face and Sucrose was thunderstruck. There had been no expression on the Kreideprinz’s face for the longest time that the smile had felt so foreign. “It’s alright, Klee. Do you need help with something?” and his voice wasn’t hoarse. If there was anything that could cheer him up, it would be Klee.

He was done prioritizing his research over the people that really mattered.

“Look what I got! I’ve never seen such a pretty flower in Mondstadt before,” Klee showed off the blue flower to Albedo, eyes shining and wide. Albedo touched the petals as Klee held it up for him. “Ah, yes, Glaze Lilies. You can only find them in Liyue, Klee,” Albedo explains. Klee bounces excitedly.

“Ohhhh! That’s amazing! Y/N must have travelled there recently!”

The silence in the lab was deafening. Albedo’s hand drops from the flower as he looks at Klee, confused. Sucrose had stopped what she was doing, wide-eyed, staring at the young bomber. “...What do you mean, Klee?” Albedo whispered out.

Hearing your name said by someone else made it all the more real that you weren’t here with him anymore.

“Oh! See, Klee was in Windrise and... I was looking at the fishes...” Klee gasped a little, “Please don’t tell Master Jean!” she whispered pointedly but continued. “I saw Y/N there, and Y/N gave me a really big hug and gave me this Guh lays Lily,” the young girl got the name wrong, but Albedo hadn’t been listening anymore. He stood up and crouched down to eye level with Klee, hands on her shoulders. “W-When, Klee?” he clears his throat and tries again, “When did this happen?” Sucrose had also been listening and watching in bated breath. Klee gave one of her biggest, most innocent smiles, not knowing how crucial this information had been to Albedo. “Just now! I just came back from Windrise!”

Albedo didn’t feel the slightest sorry that he bolted out of the lab without explaining to Klee. She would understand and Surcrose was there. He sprinted towards the gates of Mondstadt like his life depended on it. In some senses, it really did.

I can make it.

He was panting hard. His footsteps thundering in his ears. His breath coming in quick ins and outs. His heart is about to fly off its cage.

I can make it. It’s just outside of Mondstadt.

Wind rushes past him, the pigeons on the bridge outside of Mondstadt, disturbed, flying away in a frenzy. Timmie shouting after him.

Please be there. Please.

It takes him longer than he wanted. He wanted to be faster, wanted to be there already but he was still running. Still chasing after that hope. The adrenaline he feels pumps in his veins and yet he is so out of breath that he needs to stop. His hands resting on his knees as he closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing even.

I have to keep going.

His legs were killing him. They were strained by the sudden rush of exercise and yet he still drags both towards Windrise. He could see the large tree at the horizon, but he was too far away to see if you were there. He continues to pant, steadying his breath, preparing for another burst of energy to run towards where he so desperately hoped you were. What if you weren’t there anymore?

What if he was too late?

What if he never saw you again?

“What if it doesn’t work...?” Albedo asks, pondering over the research and discussing it with you over dinner. He loved to talk about his experiments with you because you gave valuable insights on it, and really listened to him. You smile and give him the confidence that he needs, “Then you can try again, Bedo. You always find a way!”

He’s still panting by the time he reaches the steps leading up to the large tree. His eyes dart around. He circles around in place, wondering if you were around the area. He continues forward, stepping up to the big roots and yet again looked around, trying to spot your familiar tuft of hair/colour.

At the corner of his eye he spots something, behind the big tree. A Crystalfly. It was flying away and his eyes automatically follow it. There was a hand trying to reach out for it, but it barely grazed the Crystalfly’s wings. You stepped out from behind the tree, a little annoyed that you couldn’t catch the Crystalfly.

Albedo feels like he’s frozen in time. He stands there and watches the wind caress your hair. Watches as you tuck your hair back behind your ear. Watches as you turn around and start walking away. He snaps back to reality and moves forward, roots and sticks cracking under his feet as he struggles through the root laden path just to get near you.

You, hearing the disturbance from behind, turn around and was met face to face with the lover you left a few days ago. Something shatters inside you. You weren’t ready for this. You were far from ready to see him again. Why was he out here in the middle of the day? You stood still just as he did in front of you.

You notice how his hair is sticking to his face with sweat. The fast rise and fall of his chest. The pained look in his eyes. The closed up fists on his side. “Y/N--” his voice cracks and tears start to pool in your eyes.

You aren’t strong enough for this and you start to turn away.

Albedo rushes forward to trap you in a hug. His arms so desperately wrapped around you as his head rests on your shoulder. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t go. Come back with me, please,” there’s a different type of hopelessness in his voice. A moment later tears are streaming down your face.

“I-I can’t Albedo. I--” can’t put myself through that again. I can’t and don’t want to be alone at home all the time.

His body shakes and you realize it’s a sob that wracks his body. Your shoulder is slightly wet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please.” You’ve never seen him cry. Not like this. Not as he clings to you and admits defeat. “I...I couldn’t take care of you--It’s my fault. I know, but--”

“I like Windrise. It’s very relaxing.” You say as the two of you walk around the tree, collecting materials. “Is it?” Albedo responds, stopping momentarily to look up at the tree. “You don’t think so?” you curiously ask your lover. He ponders for a moment before smiling, “I think coming home to you is a lot more relaxing,” at the early stages of your relationship hearing something like that from him would cause you to blush.

You pry his arms away and look up at him. His head is dipped low and you can’t see his face clearly, concealed by his hair. You brush his hair away and lift his head up, and you see how streaks of tears run down his cheeks. You see the sleepless nights in his eyes. The hurt that creases on his forehead. You see what your absence has done to him, and all in one moment, you think that perhaps you were too harsh on him. That you should’ve talked it out instead of leaving so abruptly but you-- “I was hurt...” your lips tremble as you try to explain.

“I try, really hard, to make things easier for you. To care about you. I have never asked for anything grand.” You’re surprised at how level your voice is, despite feeling like you might break down just as he does.

“I’m aware,” Albedo wipes at his face, frustrated at himself. His tears have stopped. You were talking. That must be a good sign. “I don’t--Don’t deserve you,” but he steels himself and places his hands on your cheeks. God how long had it been since he touched you like this? and wipes away the tears that were silently falling from your eyes. “But I’ll take care of you. I’ll prove your worth. I... won’t make the same mistake again,”

And when Albedo said or promised something he was one of the few people that you believed in the most. He was trustworthy all the way, and was true to most of what he said. “You have my word... and if I do make the same error again then... Then you can leave. But right now I--” he moves to rest his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth and love that he had missed. “I’m asking for another chance,” he gulps. “Please,”

You stay quiet for a moment. Assessing the situation. But your eyes close at the closeness the two of you are in right now. There was no doubt that you still loved him. A few days would not change anything. A few days would not ruin the years that you spent together. But you were scared and guarded. You weren’t sure what would happen and if it was worth it. You were scared of being with him and being lonely. “...We... should talk and think a little bit more about this...” you conclude and give your answer, stepping away from him.

Albedo’s face grimaces in distraught, but turns into confusion when you take his hand and tugs on it slightly. “...At home, we can talk about this at home...Is that okay? Let’s go back first,” you would figure it out with him from there.

His head drops and he tries hard not to let tears escape again. He really didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve this kindness but he sure as hell would take it. He would take it and make it right again. He picks his head up and squeezes your hand, voice slightly soft and trembling, and smiles.

“Thank you. That’s perfect,”

and with his hand tight on yours, because he wasn’t letting you go again, the two of you make your way back.

Should I make a part 3 with fluff and write about the aftermath and how Albedo made it up to you? Let me know :D Message me :D Love me <3

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

Taglist (Want to be notified when something new comes out? Sign up!):

https://forms.gle/VZmJXQssHcv7YzQc6

If you’d like to be extra sweet and donate, here’s my kofi link:

https://ko-fi.com/primofate

Taglist: @larkspyrr @rim0na @sweeti-pie @l3mon-mxshroom @hai-q-haikyuu @tkshoki @kyquu @kimbapsana @leefletter @hentaje @tempehlust @rinnesy @fanfictionenthusiast

#albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin fics #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin angst #albedo angst

2K notes · View notes

genshin-impacted · 4 years

Text

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (3/3)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: Seelie!Reader, GN!Reader, Diluc/Reader, Mondstadt people interaction + Mondstadt Archon Quest, mild violence/fighting description and mentions of blood, Diluc POV briefly, mainly reader!POV

Summary: Oftentimes you find yourself wondering about your life before becoming a seelie, but with Diluc by your side, you don’t let yourself dwell on the long-gone past-- not when Diluc offers you affection and a tenderness that no one else is privy to.

But on moonless nights, you let yourself wish upon a star.

(And sometimes, in this world ruled by the Gods and their stars, wishes are granted.)

Alternatively: Diluc has never asked you or needed you to change for him to love you.

[Part 2]

(thanks for the love for this fic! here is the final addition)

Diluc breathes out and sees the fog it makes in the frigid air of Dragonspine. The world continues to remind him that he’s lucky to have his Pyro vision, and again he’s inclined to agree that it’s a useful tool indeed. He cannot melt the snow that falls on the peaks of these mountains, but even he must admit that his flames have served him well in this icy winterland-- until it doesn’t.

His phoenix burns through ruin guards and hunters alike, along with the icy foothold beneath him, and he falls into this cavern with no way up. He thinks it’s ironic that he’s the one that led himself into this predicament and attests it to your influence as his trouble-finding seelie.

Diluc huffs as he dusts off the snow from his shoulders and continues further into the hole he fell into, leaving tracks wherever he can so that you can find him. He knows better than anyone what you can do, and he knows that you cannot find him if he doesn’t leave clues.

It is neither a surprising nor disappointing revelation to him. Diluc has always known that there is nothing special that binds the two of you together-- and perhaps that is why he cherishes what the two of you have. There is no contract, no string of fate, no hand of god that has put the two of you together or convinced the other to stay. You have chosen to stay with Diluc, and Diluc has chosen to let your presence change his life bit by bit.

Ever since coming back to Mondstadt, he has slowly grown more accustomed to working with other people, though with your appearance, his change has been accelerated. For with every adventure you drag him into, he meets new people, forming different teams. He’s helped Razor handle his broadsword better, and now he visits him ever so often to let him spar to his content. He let his stars be read by Mona, despite his initial hesitance (apparently, you are very into astrology), and can now see the constellations form above him much more clearly. And while he has never seen the need to be closer to his god, Venti sees the both of you more often outside of the tavern, and he sees a glimpse of Barbatos within the wind-weaving bard.

You are a comforting presence: straightforward, easy to read, and compassionate. And he does not resist, much like everyone else, when you twirl your way into his heart. It is no longer surprising for him to understand that he does not need to be alone on the dark side of dawn when you have chosen to accompany him.

Speaking of choice, Diluc thinks irritably, wringing out the water from his hair. How did he agree to wander around Dragonspine of all places? He must have been caught up in the logistics of the experiment itself as well as your easy agreement. Diluc is admittedly the only person that understands your every nuance (or, well, most of it; some twirls are lost in translation), but even he cannot quite decipher what you want to take from this experiment of Albedo’s.

When you find him-- which you will, he will ask you, and he thinks you will tell him as best as you can. For someone that cannot speak, you are the most honest individual in his life, which is something he has repeatedly found endearing and refreshing.

Diluc climbs up the side of a cliff near the camp, only to see Albedo and Sucrose discussing at the edge of it. He briefly wonders if the experiment has ended, but when he does not see your light between the two of them, his breath hitches in the momentary panic he finds all too familiar to when he lost you the first time.

Albedo spots him before he can speak. “Master Diluc, I’m relieved to find that you’re safe," he says briefly, and Diluc can at least respect how quickly the alchemist gets to the point, because he continues quickly. “Your seelie left to go find you before we could assess the situation.” He sighs as Sucrose frantically hands Diluc a towel to dry himself and a seat. “You gave them quite the scare, disappearing on us like that.”

“You mean they’re out there on their own right now?” Diluc presses, feeling his hackles raise.

“Yes. We’re going to go out to recount your steps-- undoubtedly, your seelie will be trying to find you--”

Diluc doesn’t need to hear anything else. He holds the towel to Sucrose who nervously puts her hands up, unsure on what to do. “I’ll go find them,” he says. “The experiment is finished now, right?”

“Do not go." Albedo sighs, and however Diluc thought of him before, it’s evident now that he is, above all else, frustrated with how things have turned out. “It’s my experiment and a miscalculation on my part. You should stay--”

“I’ll be fine--”

“Your vision does not make you impervious to the climates,” Albedo says calmly. He thinks he sees a gleam of cunning in Albedo’s eyes when he glares at the alchemist. “Besides, would your seelie be happy if you got yourself sick going to find them?” And Diluc cannot respond to that.

“That being said,” Albedo continues, pulling at his gloves. “I predict you will refuse to stay here permanently. As it’s my fault, I’ll provide you with at least a potent heating potion before you go. Please wait; it won’t take long.”

“...Thank you,” Diluc says, taking back his towel much to Sucrose’s relief. When he sees Albedo head off onto his alchemy table, he sighs and settles into his seat. Where could you have gone, he thinks, drying his hair. After leaving the waterfall, he had… climbed the clifftop. Perhaps you lost him there without any way to notice which way he went afterward, which was a mistake on his part. Perhaps he should--

Diluc pauses his train of thought and instinctively turns his head to the left where he sees you floating. And the relief, oh, the relief he feels when he sees you fly toward him makes smiling easy. “There you are. I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He swallows, beginning to breathe easy again. "I was worried," he admits, "I--" He stops abruptly when he looks up at you.

You are crying, and he almost does not know what to do.

He didn’t realize you could cry. Diluc isn’t sure if he can even call them tears-- these globby droplets that disappear when they fall off your body that, when Diluc brushes them away, does not make his gloves wet.

But he sweeps them away when they come anyways. “Hey,” he says tenderly, as you raise your voice from distress. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.” He cups your small orb-like body and listens to you as best as he can, sweeping his hand over your head and ears soothingly until your hiccup-like speech slows down to a halt.

“You found me,” he tells you firmly. “You found me.” He repeats himself until you are warm in his hands and his hair is dry, the towel left forgotten on the ground.

Even when you have long calmed down, he continues to look over his shoulder to watch as you converse with Sucrose. “Did you get what you were looking for?” Diluc asks the alchemist, who hands him the warming potions for any emergencies.

“Yes. Simply put, your mini seelie does not choose what it finds.” Albedo explains, “However, based on previous observations, they can hone in on things that are… otherworldly. You may be glad to confirm that you are, in fact, not otherworldly. And though this was not my intended result, I also would like to inform you that their attachment to you is out of their own volition…” Albedo watches in barely concealed amusement as Diluc glances over at you again. “Though, I’m sure you already knew this.” He clears his throat. “I would like to offer them future experimentation if they are willing.”

Diluc does his best not to look confused, but his pause gets the better of him. “Why are you asking me?”

Albedo only arches his brow and asks as a matter-of-fact, “Are you not each other’s keeper?” He continues without pause to quickly go over any logistics he has remaining, the details of Dragonspine (lest he fall into a pit again), before going over to talk to you briefly. Diluc wonders what the alchemist talked to you about but he decides to let the questions be asked later.

For now, you twirl up to him, beaming at him more brightly than usual, and he does not have it in him to say anything other than, “Let’s go home.”

.By the time the two of you arrive at the winery, it is dark. You do not hesitate to corral him into getting ready for sleep, and he indulges you by not protesting.

“What did you want to get out of the experiment today?” Diluc asks you, untying his hair and placing it onto his nightstand. Before he can finish his question, you bury yourself into his hair, and he thinks that your tweets and trills sound very much like laughter. He chuckles. “Avoiding the question, are you? How very unlike you,” he teases, and he knows you hear him when he looks into the mirror and sees you peek out from underneath the red and squeak indignantly.

“I’m kidding.” Diluc lifts his hair so you can climb out and face him. “You’re the most straightforward person I know,” he says fondly, and he briefly wonders when he has gotten so honest with himself, letting you know how he feels with the amount of emotion he puts into his words to you.

Sated, you flip around once before settling into his cupped hands, deep in thought. Diluc doesn’t quite understand how your mannerisms make your emotions so recognizable, but he imagines that if you had hands, they would be under your chin in a thinking pose.

He patiently waits for an answer, walking around his room and blowing out the lights. When he turns off the last one, you can only look up at him and let out a quiet coo-- an apology. His hands are already comforting you the moment after you answer him.

“It’s alright,” Diluc says. “I suppose it’s not exactly easy to explain that.” He adds on immediately, “And don’t apologize again. It’s fine.”

“I think I can understand why without you telling me,” he says, and if his voice is a little raw, he hopes it goes by unnoticed. “It’s hard, isn’t it-- not knowing what you’re supposed to be doing."

Quietly, you float up, and Diluc feels his heart tremble when you press a kiss to his forehead in a mix of an apology, a comforting notion, and an act of love. He lays down in silence with you, and if you make a nest out of his hair, and if he wakes up with you nestled at the crook of his neck, he does not say a word.

There is no need.

“Isn’t it enough?” Lisa asks him as she leans over the library railing. Diluc looks over to her as he puts away the last of the books he has asked to borrow, and he knows what she is asking before she finishes. Still, she tilts her head, her hat staying steady on her head, and repeats, “Isn’t it enough that they’re here with you?”

“Yes,” Diluc says without hesitation. “It is.”

“Can I ask why you’re still researching about seelies then?” Lisa pauses, putting her hand over her shoulder, and Diluc knows she will arrive at the right answer without him telling her. “If not for you then… for them? You’re looking for answers for your mini seelie?”

"I try to do what I can," he says, ignoring the way Lisa's eyes gleam all too knowingly. (He always knew there was much more to her at first glance.) "Thanks for the help, I--" He pauses when he catches Lisa smiling behind her fist. "...What is it?" he asks warily.

"Oh, nothing." Lisa croons, giggling, "I just think it's sweet how the two of you treat each other. Anyone would get jealous of that." She pauses, looking out the window as the sun sets in the west. "It almost seems like a miracle to have the two of you find each other, don't you think? Fate, perhaps? How utterly romantic!"

"You're letting Kaeya influence you too much," Diluc retorts, much to Lisa's amusement.

"Maybe so," she says, sighing, "but even if it was fate, you wouldn't have cherished them any less." She gives Diluc a pointed look even he cannot deny. "Isn't that right, Master Diluc?"

Diluc huffs, walking past her to head down the stairs. "Asking that, I'm sure you already know my answer," he tells her, and he lets his mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile when he hears her complain about his tight-lipped attitude. It blossoms into a full-blown smile when he starts heading back to the winery.

When he comes back, you are waiting for him among the grapevines as the winery is basked in orange light.

He's home.

Diluc sleeps early and wakes up before the crack of dawn and takes you up the clifftop overlooking the winery. He had told you that there was something he wanted to do and left it at that. Not that you minded-- you were happy to follow him, blocking out any sharp rocks so he wouldn’t grab ahold of them as he climbed and scaring off any elemental wisps that came your way.

When the two of you reach the clifftop, the sky begins to grow brighter as the sun peeks over the horizon. The color change from blue to yellow then orange is truly beautiful, and you are almost mesmerized as Diluc takes a seat down next to you, watching the sunrise.

“...It’s almost been a year now,” Diluc says, “since we first met.”

Happy Anniversary? You squeak in confusion, only to whip your body to face him when you realize why you’re here with him at dawn to watch the beautiful scene unfold before you. You squeak rapidly, stumbling over your words that he cannot hear but can understand anyhow. You hadn’t realized-- You were an idiot for not planning anything either, not that you could-- What kind of ore could you go find to bring to him as a present--?

“Thank you,” Diluc tells you, “for the past year.” In the backdrop of the rising sun, you think he is almost too bright to watch with that gentle smile of his. The thought is only exacerbated when he cups you in his hands as softly as he has always done. “Let’s see what this year has in store for us together.”

You trill softly, floating in the air to situate yourself on top of his head to watch the ocean shine brighter with the rising sun.

It is not the New Year for any country nor culture, but you look into the horizon and make a wish that no one can hear. One year has passed, many things have changed, but you find that the one thing that has not is your adoration for Diluc.

"Let's go back home," he tells you, not for the first time, when the sun rises substantially above the horizon. Obediently, you float down into his sights where you twirl playfully in the air in thanks for the view. He chuckles. "No problem," he says, and he leans down just enough to place a quick kiss in between your ears.

(In hindsight, perhaps you should have wished for more kisses in the following year if you thought that was actually something you could wish for.)

Like the beginnings of a new arc, you lead Diluc onto the start of another campaign that lasts longer than normal and ties in with the previous adventures you have had with Diluc.

You find Aether on the shores east of Mondstadt. Diluc can only look at you curiously when Aether reveals his visionless powers and his desire to find his sister, for if there were ever any need for corroborating evidence on your talent or ability, Aether is living proof of it.

With the traveler, you resolve many of the things that neither you nor Diluc could comprehend. The red, crystalline tears are purified, the winds calm down with Dvalin’s defeat, and Venti-- or should you say, Barbatos-- as usual, disappears in a wisp of dandelions to leave the City of Freedom to its autonomy. In the breezes of Mondstadt, you can feel his protective gaze upon the city, and more often than not, you find him wandering in the tavern, looking for a quick drink that Diluc offers ‘reluctantly.’ (You know him better now; Diluc would rather hug Kaeya than admit that he cares for the people in his life more than he shows, and Venti is one of the people he can find a fondness for. You still find yourself abashed to know that you are the only one Diluc can say unashamedly and wholeheartedly that he adores you-- in his own way.)

Aether’s presence in Mondstadt is a breath of fresh air, considering how compassionate he is and how willing he is to help with the common troubles of those in the city. He is led along by Kaeya, tugged onto an impromptu date by Lisa, and given a mask to go undercover with Diluc and help him in ways that you cannot. The tug of jealousy is unfamiliar, but you are more glad than anything that Aether can be his partner during the most dangerous of missions. You tag along as moral support and as a guiding post-- and for that, you find yourself most similar to Paimon, who, for some reason, keeps being compared to emergency food.

“You’re my companion,” Diluc tells you with finality when you look up at him, barely forming the thought in your head about being his emergency food. “Don’t doubt that.”

Turns out, people can not breathe when you are covering their entire face with your translucent body.

When the dust settles, you never think of turning Aether down when he asks you if you can sense whether his sister is in Mondstadt.

You leave with Aether and Paimon with the promise that you return to Diluc at the winery. You guide the two of them to Stormterror’s Lair, a place you have gotten far more acquainted with in the past month, and head up to the cliffside where a ruin guard’s footprints remain next to a dandelion. You can sense something here, though you are unsure of what, and you are about to apologize for finding nothing when Aether looks over to you with wet eyes.

You coo up at him comfortingly as he sighs with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Thank you,” he tells you, holding out his hand. You press against it, and you hope he knows that the best you can do to imitate a comforting hand-hold. “At least now I know for sure she’s here in this world.” He smiles at you. “This gives me a lot of hope that I’ll find her, so… thank you, really.”

Aether leaves for Liyue in the next few days, and if you had known he would leave so soon you would have done more than held his hand. You wish you could comfort him, reassure him that his sister, too, must be looking for him just as hard as he was. (Even if this was not the truth, you think if you wish hard enough, you could maybe manifest it for him.) You have so many words within you and yet none of them are conveyed, and Aether’s sad smile stays.

It gets hard sometimes, knowing how little you can do, and how much you could have done before-- and this is one of those moments. It is rare for you to feel melancholy over the things you no longer have, but they come and go like the waves on Falcon Coast. Without a word, Diluc can tell when you are feeling down, holding you when you fall into his hands.

His kisses come more often now, and he places one between your ears when you are with him during your lower moods. You think your day improves almost immediately when he does so, but it helps tremendously also that Diluc never forgets to reassure you.

“If you want me to help you with anything,” he says, “you only need to ask."

You coo again, twirling once, nudging at his cheek before backing away just enough to look at him. If you had a heart (and you sometimes suspect you do), it would be beating quickly as you wait for him to decipher your actions.

“...Ah,” he says, picking you up again. You think for a moment he looks as embarrassed as you feel, but then he asks, “...Another one?” and places a second kiss onto your head.

You trill, pleased that you are spoiled by Diluc and even happier that Diluc only joins you in your mirth when he huffs in laughter.

“What an honest seelie,” he says, and you could not be more content with how fond he sounds of you and how, again and again, he continues to be patient with you even when you cannot be patient with yourself.

Sometimes when the moon is high and Diluc is fast asleep, you find yourself at the place you first came to fruition as a seelie. The lake by the Winery and this exact scenery may as well be your birthplace. When you look into the reflection you see your orb-like features, viscous yet watery all at once, emitting light.

But sometimes, when the only light is coming from the fireflies that glow beside you, you look into the lake and see a familiar face staring back at you. They have your face-- your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and your brows of a time when you were not a seelie. It’s the only time you get to see this image of your past self, reminding you of what you were before. Sometimes, you think you can hear your voice being carried over by the winds of another world, of another time.

These moments are the only thing you have kept to yourself.

After all, what’s the point of holding onto something that you no longer have? The man you’ve grown to care for-- grown to love-- is someone who has his eyes set forward toward the future, and you’re going to be there with him no matter what.

Although seelies cannot dream, you dream of carrying over the tray of tankards and washing the dishes in the tavern, of carrying Klee over your shoulders as you lead her to Albedo, of bumping elbows with Kaeya jokingly or placing a blanket over Jean’s shoulders when she falls asleep in her office again.

You dream of lacing your hands with Diluc’s, pressing your lips upon his temple, and hearing his heartbeat against his chest with a steady, grounding rhythm that reminds you you are home.

And sometimes, just dreaming is enough.

(And sometimes, it is not.)

Life goes on. You see more of Mondstadt and begin to know the land like the back of Diluc’s hand. Knights and adventurers alike know you as the little seelie, and whether they think you follow Diluc or Diluc follows you is up to each person’s interpretation. (Regardless, none of them are wrong.)

You accompany Diluc when he trains Razor in Wolvendom, and you invite Bennett to adventure sometimes with the two of you. (The boy may be unlucky, but you’re a magnet of trouble, so you think you have some things in common. A lot more things explode when he accompanies you but Diluc can handle it.) You make sure Jean gets some rest (“Your seelie is, um… very…” “Stubborn?” “I was going to say determined.”) and follow Lisa around on her expired library book expeditions. (“You think she’s beautiful, don’t you?” Diluc says to you, and you wonder why you babble excuses to him-- You’re more beautiful!-- while he looks at you in amusement.)

You and Diluc spend more time with other people in comparison to before, but you still have quiet moments with just the two of you when the days are slow. You’ve been learning how to move small things even better than before, among other things, but with this skill in particular, you can actually slide the pieces on the chessboard when you play against Diluc, who looks on (fondly) as you do your best to carefully push the pieces with your body.

You always end up knocking some down, but when you finally get a handle of it, you do it with such concentration that Diluc doesn't have the heart to offer help. He does, however, end up polishing the board so the pieces slide more easily. You notice it’s shinier but he doesn’t let you pay it any mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says to you, and you think the words I love you come to mind more often than not recently.

Thank you, you trill instead, and you ache with a want that pulses ever so often when you want so much more than you have when Diluc reaches out to caress your head.

“Like I said,” Diluc says softly. “Don’t pay it any mind. It’s your move still, you know.”

And you move the pieces. And you pick the grapes in his vineyard. And you find artifacts of crimson for him. And you kiss the scars from the many years he has battled (with or without you).

He gains another in the next, final battle with you as his seelie.

Diluc has gotten hurt before. It’s inevitable with the number of enemies he faces, the number of times you run into enemy territory, but it has never been a problem for him to stand back up and fight. His fire burns brightly-- shine true is his motto, and Diluc lives those words as though they have been etched onto his soul.

Much like fire, Diluc is relentless, and you can only follow him as he pushes through enemies, listens to his connections, and finds a den of thieves that have been terrorizing Springvale for months. The two of you should have known that their efficiency was because they were led on by the Fatui, but you fail to notice until they have you surrounded.

You have every faith in Diluc to come out safe and sound, but it takes only one mistake for you to be reminded that there is a limit to everything.

The blade slices through so quickly you aren’t sure what happened, but when Diluc pulls his hand back from the cut on his side to have it painted with blood, your heart drops.

“A little out of depth, don’t you think, Darknight Hero?”

“I’d keep my tongue in my mouth if I were you,” Diluc growls, and you can only tremble in mid-air as your mind races with the things you can do-- only to think of all the things you cannot do. You almost miss what Diluc tells you with the way your hearing fuzzes. “Go back to Mondstadt and tell the Knights where these bandits are,” Diluc says, and you know it’s serious when Diluc thinks about reaching out to the knights. (This is partly true, you would realize later, that despite Diluc’s hesitance on being associated with the knights, he knows you would reach out to Kaeya or Jean if needed-- if not for him but so you would be taken care of.)

You should have told Jean or Kaeya or Amber or even Lisa where the two of you had gone just in case things go awry. The thought never crossed your mind things could go wrong when you had Diliuc with you.

“You’ll find me again,” Diluc tells you softly when you hesitate, and you wonder how he can lie to you like that when his gloves are too bloodied to even hold you. “I promise.”

How could you ask me to do that? You plead, feeling tears well up again. How could you ask me to leave you?

“It’s okay,” Diluc tells you, and his bare hands are warm. “It’s fine.”

You are ripped out of Diluc’s hands when someone throws an electro grenade in the fire below Diluc’s feet. He’s still standing even after this, but a throwing knife hits him on the shoulder, another grenade to his left. You can do nothing but watch as Diluc is hurt, falling onto the ground.

If there was ever a moment you wanted something so badly, you would have done anything to get it, it would be right here-- right now.

You are the last thing he sees.

“You whose strength stems from your devotion, I shall lend you my power.”

You don’t know whose voice you heard or how somehow you have the hands to hold onto the Vision framed with Mondstadt wings in your hands, but you’ve learned not to question the good things in life-- one of them being your life at Diluc’s side.

Your voice is loud, you realize, when you shout at the bandits to leave. And your powers are strong-- strong enough to protect the person that matters most.

The bandits run at the fight sign of trouble, and the Fatui agent is unconscious. (You checked.)

You hold Diluc as he lies on your lap, breathing heavily but still breathing-- thank the archons. You quickly brush his hair away from his face and press on his wound, wincing when he lets out a grunt of pain even unconscious. I won’t let them hurt you, you think, taking one of his hands to brush your lips over his knuckles. (His hands are rough and calloused, but you love them just the same for how gently they held you when you were just a seelie.) If they come back, they’ll have to get through me.

“Hello, mini seelie.”

You look up from Diluc just in time to see a hand reach down to softly rustle your hair, much to your dismay. The initial reaction gives way to surprise when you recognize that the voice comes from none other than Kaeya. He grins down at you with his sword by his hip, and you frantically look around to see if the bandits had come back.

How did you--?

“Nice wings you got there,” Kaeya teases you, making you look back and find that oh, when did those get there? “Didn’t even notice them because you were too worried about Diluc, huh?” When you nod, he softens his gaze. “Why don’t you let us take care of things around here, hm?” He glances down at Diluc who has been sleeping soundly in your lap. “Let’s get him back home.”

When a few knights come with a cart to ambulate Diluc back to Mondstadt instead of the winery (you couldn’t argue with Jean even if you did choose to speak; she’s stubborn when the people she cares about are hurt), you feel the tension leave your body all at once, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you actually feel sleepy.

“I’m glad we arrived right in the nick of time.” You turn to Kaeya who had been working behind the scenes, directing the knights. “You did good work, chasing them out of here so we could catch them easily,” he says, “I-- oof!”

You tackle Kaeya into a grateful hug, and it takes him a few moments to respond by placing his hands onto your back and giving it a few pats. “There, there,” Kaeya drawls, but you can hear the smile in his voice anyways. “Better not hug too long; Diluc might be jealous that I’m the person you hug first, you know.”

You let go slowly, grinning up at him as though you agree, and you dodge Kaeya before he can mess with your hair again. On the way out of the camp, Jean gives you a smile, Amber waves excitedly at you before rounding up a few more bandits, and your cheeks hurt a little from the way Lisa pinched it. You go find Diluc where he’s being taken back in a horse-drawn cart and hold his hand until you’ve fallen asleep by his side.

(In his sleep, Diluc holds onto you.)

Diluc wakes up twice. Once, very briefly, when your wings are expansive and when the Vision at your waist shines brightly with power. Before he wakes up the second time, you can already feel the power fade from both you and the Vision.

You knew that your transformation was temporary; powers do not always last forever, especially since the glow of your Vision seems contingent on the cycles of the moon-- particularly the moon that you were born on. You think that you should feel more disappointed, but you don’t. You get to hold onto Diluc’s hand in yours and wipe away the sweat from his forehead as he sleeps, and you think that if you only get this one chance to do these things, then you will take what you can get.

You will love Diluc as you are, no matter what form you take. Your transformation wasn’t necessary. Your powers were a bonus, but even if you weren’t granted a miracle, Diluc would have been safe, as a courtesy of Kaeya who had been trailing behind the two of you since you from the start. (Kaeya and Diluc's connections had the same info this time around, so they were bound to intersect at some point.) What you’ve been given was not the power to save Diluc, but the chance to love him in a way you have always dreamed of doing.

When Diluc opens his eyes the second time around, more aware and more awake, you almost don’t know what to do. It’s a momentary panic when you think he doesn’t know who you are, but he only needs to take one look at you before he raises his hand to caress your cheek as he’s always done.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m fine,” he soothes, though his voice is still raspy from disuse. “Don’t cry.”

I can’t believe you wanted me to leave you behind. How could you tell me that?

“...Sorry,” he says, and you raise your head from his bed just enough so he can wipe away the tears on your lashes. “It’s funny but even if you don’t talk, I can still understand you.”

You watch as he slowly takes your hand and presses his palm against yours, lowering his fingers until they’ve interlocked with yours. “My seelie,” he says with all the warmth in the world. You can only nod before you’re wiping away the tears that spring up again. "Even in this form, you'll still lead me, right? Still find me if I get lost?"

You don't know what type of face you're making, but Diluc softens his gaze before shifting slightly in the bed offered to him by the church. "Come here," he whispers, arms outstretched.

You tentatively place your weight onto the bed, arms placed on each of his sides as you gingerly climb into bed with him. When he winces, you put a hand on his chest, alarmed, to stop him from exerting himself.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and when he looks at you, he bursts out laughing, only for him to wince again more strongly. “Sorry, your expressions-- they’re exactly how I imagined them.” He chuckles, though you purse your lips at him as you finally settle under the covers next to him. You make a sound of surprise when he leans over just enough to press a kiss onto your forehead. You hear his soft huff of laughter again when you bury your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Still as easy to read as ever.”

You grab a hold of his shirt with your ears pressed against his sturdy chest. He gently rubs circles on your shoulder as you listen to his heartbeat, which is as steady as you have imagined it to be. It quickens ever-so-slightly, and you look up at Diluc in time to see him gaze down at you tenderly. “You don’t have to speak,” he says, brushing his hand across your cheek. “Nothing has to change at all. But there’s something I want to know.” You raise your hand to caress his hand (and he finds the courage to keep on speaking).

“Do you think you can tell me your name?” Diluc whispers, the most unsure you have ever seen him, and you think you’re so fond of him your heart (not just metaphorical this time) might burst from it.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to scoot yourself up just enough to kiss him on the side of his mouth, and you can't help but grin at the stupefied expression on his face.

And you say your name.

How interesting is it that it's the one thing you cannot convey through trills and twirls, cannot show through hugs and kisses? You never thought that your name could have such significance but you watch as Diluc's eyes widen and you think this moment is the gift the gods have given you.

Diluc takes a moment to taste your name, and he calls out to you for the very first time out of many, many, many times.

Before the sun rises, Diluc wakes up to your bright glow and with your seelie body pressed up against his collarbone. He breathes your name into the quiet infirmary before he closes his eyes to sleep again.

You are found more often than you are lost. For every time Diluc calls your name-- as a seelie or as a human (fairy?)-- your heart soars as high as the anemograms at Brightcrown Mountain.

As a seelie, your life with Diluc stays the same-- for the most part. No one treats you differently and no one loves you differently from when they knew you as just a seelie. If anything, the biggest change has been in Diluc's life where the stares from his admirers are more muted and the swoons reduced, for how could anyone continue to pine over someone that is so evidently preoccupied with someone else? (Even though they've only seen the person who Diluc holds in high regard once every new moon.)

Every adventure still has the same probability to go awry and Diluc still polishes the chessboard to perfection for you. Though on moonless nights, Diluc can hold you close, and you can hold him closer, saying his name (the second word you ever say) and hoping he can never feel quite as lost as before when you are here with him.

FIN

temp taglist

@creation-magician @inlustris-but-obey-me @lumi-ying @thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars @ninqat @winterptilopsis @nya-vivi @just-noelle @shr3ik

#diluc ragnivindr #diluc/reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc #genshin diluc #kaeya #albedo #jean #lisa #aether #mini seelie #the amt of times i stopped myself from rambling

793 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 4 years

Text

-Rush- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Summary: After a failed relationship you and Draco lost contact only to be reconnected when you take a job at the Ministry Of Magic. Emotions begin to resurface as you both realize that even after all the time that has passed you still both are deeply in love with each other

Kody: The song this image is based off of. Lewis Capaldi - Rush ft. Jessie Reyez. I also changed the backstory for a couple of characters, mostly about what happened after the wizarding war.

Year: out of school

House: Gryffindor (out of school)

Possible Triggers/Warnings: fat angst, cursing, lowkey toxic Draco

♡~🐍~♡

high school sweethearts, that was what you were. What you used to be.

it was a normal day when Draco said he wanted to end things, going on a whole rant about how you weren’t safe with him and you deserved so much more than what a death eater could bring you. Despite all of your reassurances that you would take the risk his mind was made up.

his parents were pressuring him to give you up. His father repeating that no son of his would date some Gryffindor half blood, but you were much more than that to him. You shared his passions and interests, listened to him when he needed a ear to talk off about Alchemy or offered your shoulder to cry on.

it was the one thing he stood his ground for. You. One night while he was quietly, but with haste packing clothes into a small trunk because he was planning on apparating to your house and run away with you his aunt Bellatrix had caught him in the act.

she, in a very threatening tone told her nephew that the dark lord knew of his little Gryffindor girlfriend and if he wanted to see you unharmed he would be a good boy and listen to orders when he’s given them. His whole world came crashing down. He could take the chance and run with you anyway. He really wanted to.

but then you would never live a comfortable life. Being on the run constantly was not what he planned when he gave you a silver ring when you were both 15 with a promise he would replace it with a wedding band in the future. Now he would never get to see you walk down the aisle.

so he distanced himself from you as much as he could until the breakup, so it wouldn’t hurt as much. It still did.

‘The space between where our ends meet, Has grown too much for me to block it out’

you left his dorm that day in tears. His body almost leaped forward to chase after you, but his mind knew better. If losing you meant he could protect you from the dangers his life brought as a Malfoy, then by all means. He had to let you go. Doesn’t mean it was easy.

he never really saw you again after that. He chalked it up to his mind blocking you out if you ever were in his line of sight, like some sort of defense his brain put up to avoid any more hurt. Once the ‘final battle’ came around he decided that he wouldn’t let his father control his life anymore.

he aided the golden trio by tossing his wand to Harry once he fell out of Hagrid’s arms and with that it was over instantly. His mother and him were charged for war crimes, but Hermione and Harry ended up speaking on their behalves and all charges were dropped.

his father was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his days and for once Draco felt at peace with his father being so far away, no longer having the ability to control him. Harry almost immediately got a job at the ‘Ministry Of Magic’ as well as Hermione.

after a few months Harry had talked Draco up enough to his superiors to get him a position in the ‘Department of Magical Law Enforcement’ as a Auror. He felt strange working with Harry Potter after all the years of bullying, but they got along really well when they cooperated.

♡~🐍~♡

1 year later

“Hey, can we talk to you for a bit?” Draco looks up from his papers that lied on his desk. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter stood at the entrance of his office, looking visibly uncomfortable. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

he set the pen down on the desk before gesturing to the seats in front of said desk. Hermione put on a sweet smile as she took a seat, Harry following. “So i’m sure you heard our department is hiring another Auror since were shoftstafed” Draco nods slowly. He actually heard about it yesterday before he left.

“Yeah so, we overheard a conversation this morning about who it was and we wanted o tell you in advance” Harry explained. Draco’s brow went up in slight confusion. Warn him? What in hell did that mean? “Warn me” he repeated and Hermione nods.

a sympathetic smile played on her soft complexion. “It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n” Draco’s body tensed up instantly. Of course the universe would punish him like this. Waving the love of his life in his face after he broke her heart. How spiteful. “Oh” he simply said, before leaning back into his chair.

all business professionalism drained from his body in an instant “Fuck” he cursed under his breath “You still care about her, don’t you?” Hermione questioned. He just nodded before letting out a deep sigh and standing up from his chair “I’m quitting”

both ex Gryffindors shot up from there seats “You can’t quit Draco, that’s a highly irrational reaction!” Hermione sputters as he collects his coat from the back of his black swivel chair. “You wouldn’t understand, Granger” he slipped his arms through both sleeves.

“Draco!-” Harry started, but didn’t get another word in as Draco opened his office door. As soon as the door swung open he felt a head collide with his chest. He could practically hear their heartbeat race in embarrassment “Oh Merlin, i apologize!” the voice. That voice laughed nervously.

‘I miss the tone of your heartbeat. It's such a warming and familiar sound’

the person backed away and he felt as if he could collapse right then and there. “Draco?” you said. ‘No, please don’t say my name’ he thought. A smile grew on your face “What a funny coincidence. seeing you here. How’ve you been?”

his eyes mapped your body, not in a sexual way. Just noting the small changes that occured over a year and a half. You kept your hair the same length, as well as your taste in clothing. Your face was a bit more matured, but still held it’s natural beauty.

the way you spoke to him made his heart twinge. It was so friendly. Of course it was friendly, but he still hated it. “I’ve been quite alright. You?” he questions. “I’m great, couldn’t be better really.” you shrug your shoulders. His heart tugged violently.

better. Couldn’t be better. In his mind when the word better came up he imagined being married to you already and living a comfortable, wealthy life. But no, he was here. He forced a half smile on his face “That’s good to hear. Now i must get going. I hope you're finding the power. To help you make it through the darker days”

he walked past her and as soon as he was out of sight, sped walked to the nearest bathrooms. He locked the door before leaning against it. He slowly slid down until he sat down on the tile floor. It was gross, but he didn’t care at the moment.

how was he going to work here with you around. It felt as if the air was being violently sucked from his lungs. Was this what Granger called a panic attack? or was his body finally giving up on him. He would be perfectly fine with whatever option at this stage.

as he stared up at the ceiling, a bitter laugh left his throat “For now, I wait by the hour. If you wanna take somebody's breath away”

♡~🐍~♡

It had been two weeks and Draco felt as if he was going to implode. You were so happy and cheerful and- and- joyful. he just couldn’t understand how you weren’t as broken up as he was or maybe he wanted someone to share his pain. How pathetic was that?

now here he was. At some boring gala the Ministry was holding. Something about celebrating a new generation or along those lines. Draco couldn’t be bothered to care about details. He took another sip of wine from his glass hoping to get buzzed enough to fly through this boring affair.

he looks up to see multiple pairs of eyes on him. Wait- not him. Behind him. He slowly turns around as it met with the most breathtaking sight he could ever see. You strolled through the entrance wearing a no strap long lace dress. He swore his heart skipped a couple beats.

you looked like a princess ready to be whisked away, but you weren’t his to whisk anymore were you? Draco’s jaw locked in place before he looked back down at the wine in his hand. He places it down on a nearby table. “Merlin, you look absolutely stunning Ms. L/n!”

Granger. “Are you alright?” a male voice asked. Potter. If Weasley showed up, he was going to have an aneurysm on the spot. Draco simply exhaled deeply “I suppose so. I don’t think my mind is processing the fact the she isn’t mine anymore though. So there’s that”

Harry looked at Draco, studying his facial expressions. It was strange to see him so emotional “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you two together?” he was treading on thin ice, he knew that. “Long enough for it to hurt this bad”

♡~🐍~♡

and with that. Draco walked away from the chosen one and spent a good twenty minutes talking to random superiors and wealthy couples. It was only when he came from the bathroom he heard your voice for the first time that night.

“Oh thank you!” you spoke in a enthusiastic voice. Draco stopped mid step and leaned against the wall. Now he was eavesdropping? How pathetic of him. “So Y/n, we heard you used to date Draco Malfoy. Is that true?” a unfamiliar voice asked.

he inhaled sharply. “Um yes, yes i did” you spoke. You sounded uncomfortable with that question. How dare they pry on your love life? They had no right “So what was he like? Did he cheat on you? Was he a bad boyfriend? I bet he was” his fist clenched at his side.

Draco wasn’t the nicest person. He knew that, but he showed you as much love and affection his body could produce. He loved you! Hell, he still loved you. You seem to sputter “Uh-” he couldn’t listen to this. He walked out of the small hallway, surprising you and the unfamiliar coworker.

he needed some fresh air. Now. He pushes through a couple of people with a cold stare. He walks down a couple steps of stairs and hes out the front doors. The cold crisp air hits his face and he felt as if he could breathe again. He reaches up and slicks his platinum hair back.

a repeated clicking noise could be heard behind him, getting closer. Shoes. No. Heels actually. “Draco” you spoke. He turns around quickly and watches as you step off the concrete and into the grass, holding your dress up from the ground.

why did he feel so angry? Could it be because you didn’t deny his claims? or something else? “Go away L/n” he spoke harshly. He could see your face turn to one of confusion before a stern look took over “No, your clearly upset so i’m not leaving”

still so stubborn. “Are you upset because they asked me about us? If you don’t want anyone to know i promise i won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation” you said, which only angered him more. How could you be so stupid?

“I don’t give a damn if anyone knows about us! You didn’t deny it Y/n! They said such horrible things about me and you just stood there like they were right! Are you fucking serious?! I loved you with everything i had and you act like as if i was the monster!” Draco’s voice boomed, you look positively frightened.

until you didn’t Then you looked angry “You broke up with me you stupid git! You left me alone and scared while the whole war was going on! So yeah Draco i’m fucking bitter! Screw you! What happened, you were so accepting of me when we first saw each other. You hoped i was well!”

you were right, he knew that, but he wasn’t done yelling. All of this thought were just rolling off of him in the worst way. You looked disappointed in him. It reminded him of the last time he spoke to you at Hogwarts, but with less crying and more anger.

“I hoped?! You want to know what i hope!? I hope you're lonely, hope you're lost 'cause I've been. I'd hate to think you're better off without me I know we tried to hold on. But where do you go. When love, it just ain't enough?” he spoke, anger leaving him and being replaced with dread and sorrow.

but he wasn’t done. “Now does it kill you when you think about me? Were you as close to giving up as I've been? I know we kept losing touch. Got lost in the rush...” he sighed deeply, trailing off at the end of his sentence. All his worst thoughts had spilled out of him like a tidal wave.

you looked shocked and hurt? Maybe he was reading your expression wrong. He couldn’t bare to look at your face. Gulping, he adjusted his tie and turned away to walk off in shame “I pray you don't hurt too much” he chose as his parting words.

“I don't come close to an angel”

he stopped. A shuffling sound of fabric heard as you made your way in front of him, jabbing a finger at his chest “You ain't never been no kind of saint” you narrowed your E/c eyes at him. He looked down at you in shame. You removed your finger and stepped back once.

a bitter laugh forced its way out of you. “But when we both came together. Hell to heaven, you were my escape. But fires don't burn forever and all these ashes crumble when we touch. We danced to death in the fire. What can we do now that the music's done, my love?”

his grey eyes went wide. My love? A small feeling of hope bloomed within his chest. You did still care about him. He was your only love and would always be, but you had both been forced apart. Draco was foolish for thinking you had ever lost feelings for the Malfoy.

now to give him a taste of his own medicine. “I hope you're lonely, hope you're lost 'cause I've been. I'd hate to think you're better off without me. I know we tried to hold on. But where do you go, When love, it just ain't enough? Now, does it kill you when you think about me?”

you threw your hands up in the air. He could spot tears in your eyes, making him start to choke up as well. That was always his weakness, you crying. “Were you as close to giving up as I've been? I know we kept losing touch. Got lost in the rush. I pray you don't hurt too much” you look down.

‘Well, we had it all and we let it fall, But I hope you find whatever you were looking for’

Draco stepped into you and reaches down to grab your hand “Y/n. During the war i packed a bag in the middle of the night. I was ready to leave my family and run away with you. I wanted nothing more then to pend the rest of my life with you” his thumb caressed the skin of your hand.

you look up from your heels and met his gaze with teary eyes “Why didn’t you?” you spoke. He smiled sadly, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “My aunt. Bellatrix caught me. The dark lord had found out about you somehow and if i wanted to keep you safe i had to let you go.”

“The day i broke up with you haunts me in my nightmares. I wanted so badly to reach out and grab you, but love- Y/n you weren’t safe with me.” tears finally escaped his eyes, running down his pale face. You used your hand to hit his chest “I told you i didn’t care Draco”

he nods, sniffling “I know darling, i should have stuck by your side no matter what, but even the thought of any harm coming to you was to much for me to bare” he let go of your hand. Now he was cradling your face. “I feel as though i am too late”

you reach into the top part of your dress and pull out the hidden part of a silver necklace you wore. The silver ring he gave you was at the end of the chain. He felt his heart explode. “You kept it? after all this time. Why?” he asked. You roll your eyes “because i still love you, you foolish boy!”

Draco was at a loss of words. Unable to speak, he grabbed your face and your lips collided with his in a passionate kiss. It was very sloppy, but showed how much you both missed each other. It made up the amount of time that had passed since you felt each other.

your the first to pull away from the heated exchange “You better not leave me again Draco” you spoke in a stern tone which made him smile “I wouldn’t dream of it my love. Now, let’s get out of here. There is so much more i want to do with you” his tone became playful as a smirk played on his face.

your face flushes slightly, but you nod slowly. He holds onto you as you both apparate away to merlin knows where. High school sweethearts, that was what you were. What you used to be. What you got to be again.

♡~🐍~♡

Kody: i- i cried writing this. What a pussy am i right. By the way my inbox is like being a wack ass hoe and not telling me when i get messages so like sorry if you’ve requested something and it hasn’t been posted. (I was also in a depressed state for a bit but whatevs) Anyways, peace!

133 notes · View notes

almotherorion · 3 years

Text

Au time again hooo aaaa

So 👏

I was thinkin’ about a kinda fantasy au ‘cause I may or may not have been listening to Little Lion Man on repeat for the past 2 or so hours-

So, quick rundown since this is very much on a whim and isn’t developed like, at all;

General bits:

-Ben and Zak are siblings (not by blood) in this au -Komodo and Zon sorta remain the same but Fisk is cursed -Both Zak and Ben still see them as siblings though -When they’re young, Rex visits their village with his parents and ends up meeting them all, almost immediately befriending them -the only one truly wary of him is Fisk but no one can really figure out why -Rex visits the village every summer during his family’s travels until he’s old enough to travel by himself and stays during autumn as well -Ben and Rex end up developing a crush on one another before eventually deciding to get together -On one of Rex’s visits, Ben and Zak announce that they plan on leaving the village and setting out on their own so Rex invites them to travel with him (just for clarity as well, they’re only just barely in their 20s in this au) -They wind up in one of the larger kingdoms and only plan to settle there temporarily but it turns a tiny bit more permanent -They do eventually join a very renowned guild, one where they fit in pretty well and meet a ton of other people -At the time of them joining though, some members of the guild are plotting a coup against the king and no one finds out until it’s too late

Aaaand that’s basically as far as I’ve gotten with that- I’ll probably rework some bits and pieces since I’m still not entirely happy with it but head empty atm

Now, onto the more character specific bits!

Ben:

-could be human or elf but I haven’t exactly decided yet -mage specialising in shapeshifting -not very proficient in sword fighting or hand to hand combat but knows enough to hold his own fairly well

Zak:

-dragon/human hybrid but most the physical dragon traits are hidden so he could pass for human on a glance -doesn’t actually know he’s related to dragons -proficient in sword fighting and archery with magic being a weak spot despite his dragon heritage

Rex:

-human... mostly -proficient in magic, sword fighting and archery (basically a bit of a prodigy) -gains the rank of paladin at some point but idk when

Circe:

-siren ‘cause it’s just too perfect not to honestly -has to use a magic amulet to keep her abilities under wraps most of the time -amulet also helps disguise her true appearance from the average person

Noah:

-I’m not actually very sure but I like the idea of Satyr!Noah but idk, could change in the future -tends to hide from a fight but very skilled in potion brewing and alchemy -known Rex since they were born but got split up after he ran from home as a child

Gwen:

-again, could be a human or an elf but I have no idea -I mean, it’s Gwen- I’d be a liar if I said she was anything other than a sorceress -also a prodigy like Rex (I’m thinking she’s kinda like Merlin from 7DS)

Kevin:

-what’s the fantasy equivalent of an osmosian? imma say golem.... for now, may change in the future -thinks of himself as Gwen’s muscle despite the fact she doesn’t need it -could just make fantasy au Kevin emo Escanor

I’ll probably add onto this at some point when I think of others but that’s all tiny ape brain has rn

I’m open to suggestions though ‘cause that’d probably be interesting to hear other people’s takes

#ben 10 #generator rex #the secret saturdays #celebrity trio #benrex #ben tennyson #rex salazar #zak saturday #gwen tennyson #circe #kevin levin #noah nixon #fisk #zon #komodo #unamed fantasy au #i wonder if anyone can tell I’m bored #cuz I’ll tell you now #i very much am

24 notes · View notes

crimsonfluidessence · 3 years

Text

Prompt 8: Adroit

Content Warning: Mentions of Torture School sucked. That was the conclusion Esredes came to for most of his childhood. He was never the biggest fan of many aspects of it, of sitting indoors and listening to lectures when he could be out in the world. Writing in particular was never fun. So many rules had to be drilled into him, on how sentences and grammar worked and what the proper words to use were. So many hours collectively he must have spent, pouring over dictionaries and definitions, scolded and given a bad grade if his writing did not match the expected standards. He never did quite get the hang of it. Even as an adult, he found himself back in the same loop of dictionaries always being out on his desk when he had the brilliant idea to accept a House of Lords members’ offer of being an assistant and look over and write letters and speeches and proposals for the man. Some nobles he knew could write flourishing and beautiful things with ease, but he always had to stop and get fixated on words, if this or that was spelled right or flowed correctly, only for the end result to be something he always felt resembled a noble’s writing, but if one were to observe it more carefully and pick it apart, it would come undone at the seams. At least all those failed drafts were simply put in the trash. His war journal stayed locked away in his home nowadays, not only for the particular out of the ordinary pages like the time he wrote a full page of I’m sorry, but the few times in his life he tried to write poetry lines in it on a whim. It was awful, and he regretted it the moment after he finished trying. The page was almost intelligible with crossed out words, but it read like a madman’s disjointed ramblings trying to sound pretty. How the hell did poetry work? He had no idea, and it was an embarrassment to take to his grave, or else truly no worse fate would await him. He was mediocre at mathematics. No excuse of simply being a child of less artistic disciplines- he found nothing significant for himself in pretty much any part of schooling except history. He liked reading about the past, and it took to his memory much better than equations or the different forms of the same word. Seraphiaux always did better, even when he neglected studies. There he was, the little child prodigy learning alchemy and healing at age seven with all his books, and Esredes was trying to understand semicolons at fifteen. He was going to be a healer, Esredes would be a Temple Knight- and only one of them had any progress towards it at all. His parents did not allow him to play or practice with swords or weapons of any kind. “Not until you enter training,” they said. “It’s too dangerous.”Most noble children would probably be far better off coming from two parents who did not fight in the war, who did not try to push and train them to be soldiers from an early age. Esredes was an exception to that, as he thought. Instead, he was stuck in the increasing realization that he had little talent for anything. It only made sense to him later why- a soldier could not have other talents, or else they would be distracted from their purpose and not want to fight. But he did not know yet he was one, for sure, and all he could do to escape was funnel into his little wish. It wasn’t the easiest journey to finish schooling, but he managed it. Right into training he went… and there came a breakdown soon enough. The shield. That stupid goddamn shield. He hated carrying it and no matter what he did, he could not get the hang of using it. I’m going to fail, he thought for sure. He would have to go back to his parents and accept he had no passion to pursue, and then work extremely hard every day to be good enough to be head of house, when he knew in his heart he was not enough for it. Yet it all passed as he funneled himself solely into the sword at the instruction of a superior, and once more he had something. Combat. He was right all along. Combat was his answer to everything, his shining star of purpose and ability. Day after day after day, he threw his entire body and soul into training. Nothing could match that ecstasy of true purpose and being. The day he was knighted was the best of his life. Superiors took notice of him, sometimes for the bad but more often for the good, especially as time went on. The ecstasy eventually faded as the harsher realities of battle came to be, but still in those moments of promotion and praise from the higher ups, when people spoke of his accomplishments and even, increasingly as time went on, his bouts of strategy in battle, it surged back up in a lesser form. When he was twenty two, an opportunity came to him like no other. A captured heretic who had the blood of dragons in him which his squadron had apprehended. “Let me interrogate him alone before the Inquisitors come,” Esredes asked his superior. He had done just enough questioning people in the past that he was confident an answer for his curse could be found. Alas, as he carved into the captive repeatedly and shouted at him about his affliction, he ended up empty handed. His one shot at answers had been blown in a bout of overconfidence, and questions raged on in his head. It got easier when he returned to the art of interrogation after the law no longer held him down. As he realized how important it was to get into their heads, slithering up through their ear canals with a tongue increasingly coated in silver, and pull it apart from inside. Then came civilization again, and Esredes was left constantly wondering why people kept spilling their lives’ stories and turmoils to him when they barely knew each other. Why did people constantly look at him like he had just trudged up and told them something they never realized about themselves, when he had just stated the obvious anyone could figure out from dealing with people for thirty three years? Why did he seem to calm some people down so easily just by opening his mouth- that half when he wasn’t inciting them to anger as he always did? Well, being the Keeper of Secrets was not easy, but as he left for Dravania to maintain a fragile peace as a diplomat some days, and looked over his list of clients and his near perfect record others, he smiled about it to himself in the comfort of the blue walls. Yet it was never enough. He had climbed to a Temple Commander before he fell, climbed in much less time to the top of the Disciples and then their leader, managed to pull himself out of being a wanted criminal to multiple people offering him jobs in areas he never expected to take, and yet the same internal monologue repeated. I can’t do this, he said as he tried each new job far outside of his perceived, singular combat ability. So many others could do this better than me. There would be a shining and perfectly talented Ishgardian, one who hadn’t fought in the heretic’s side of the war, who was merely open minded and far more likable, and he would finally be fired from his diplomacy job and replaced by them. Ferrant would never replace him, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still constantly stressing that he was not meant for the work and couldn’t be enough help. And while he was no longer at a risk of firing since going independent on his side job, and he did not expect all his clients to stop showing up, it never eased that anxiety every time that he could mess it up and do everything wrong in a heartbeat, and ruin everything. But if another counselor like him ever showed up in the same circles, and just proved to be so much better than him At least he still had combat, he told himself. As stupid incompetent children fought primals, ended the war, and got all the peoples’ admiration and praise, he still had combat. As he continued to make critical errors here and there in his ventures, and get in trouble with the Inquisition for vigilantism, forced only to stick to the law enforcement of the wilderness and the expeditions his friends would not take to the system, he still had combat. Not every day anymore as he stuck to his civilian tasks, but he had it. What would a talentless soldier be without the purpose of combat? Of dying, of sacrifice, or usefulness? The disgraced Temple Knight who would never officially and legally fight for anything ever again, only forced to emulate ability in areas he was never built for? The answer found itself in bars. Former Dragoons, it was almost always Dragoons. The ones who started fights just to feel anything, screamed at and insulted people because they truly felt they had no purpose in life anymore, and refused to move on to do anything productive. Esredes sighed to himself every time when he saw them. Perhaps he was not a man of talents, but he would continue to blend in and pretend. If not only for being above making an even bigger disgrace of himself. He always hated too much attention. ----- @heartofthefury Seraphiaux/Ferrant

#writing #in action #ffxivwrite2021 #younger esredes #ferrant #Seraphiaux #esrey's office

7 notes · View notes

anthropwashere · 4 years

Text

Perpetual Motion Machine

Hey @o-i-have-too! I’m your (late) gifter for the @fmasecretsanta2020 event. You asked for Elric fun and I come bearing soul alchemy goofs. Real life got a bit weird and as such this isn’t the full fic I was hoping to write for you, but I think it’s a decent one-shot on it’s own. The premise is a bit of a CoS-pull but it’s not a crossover and you don’t need to have seen the movie. All you need to know is that Alphonse “let’s fuck around and find out” Elric is here to have a good epilogue and that is a threat. :)

Title comes from the Modest Mouse song of the same name.

===

They're not back in Resembool two days before The Accident happens. That's not what they call it at the time, of course, but the exasperated capitalization creeps into their voices more and more after the fact and retroactively gives The Accident a kind of resigned importance. Frankly Alphonse only made a big deal out of it at the time because it had startled him, is all. After that, well, it was just interesting. Edward and Winry had no reason at all to run around like chickens with their heads cut off when it happened. It was fine. He was fine, and remains fine after the fact for that matter.

It really had been an accident, is the thing.

The Accident happens just after lunch. Granny goes to let Den out and enjoy a smoke on the porch and Edward and Winry go get ready to head into town, bickering cheerfully on their way out of the kitchen. Alphonse declines to go with them, already tired from a busy morning and not wanting to slow them down. He smiles into his teacup—coffee is still too shockingly bitter for all that he can't get enough of the smell of it—while listening to their voices fade down the hall. It's when he sets his cup down that he happens to catch sight of a pan on the wall with a crack in the handle.

Well, that's odd, isn't it? It must have happened recently and neither Winry nor Granny have gotten around to fixing it, or it's not a pan they're interested in keeping much longer. Curious despite his tiredness, Alphonse eases to his feet and crutch to get a better look. It does look pretty old, once he's face-to-face with it. It wouldn't be hard to fix though, and it'd go even faster with alchemy. He's only done a few transmutations since the Promised Day and they've all somehow been both harder and easier than he's used to them being, courtesy a combination of Scar's nationwide transmutation circle and the whole inhabiting a human body again thing. It's a bit awkward with the crutch, but the circle is so simple that it's practically a background thought as he claps his hands and touches them to the pan—

—and without warning there's a bizarre sort of lurch, and he's face-to-face with himself.

"Uh," he says from two disparate vantage points, and once more for good measure, "Uh."

He blinks with one pair of eyes. The other pair don't exist, technically, and don't have eyelids to blink with. It makes his vision jitter in a way he doesn't think should be described as awful, but it's certainly not pleasant. He closes the pair of eyes capable of doing so and watches himself close his eyes with the other. Then he watches his face twist; first with confusion, then dismay, then earnest alarm. "Oh," he says, and has a front row seat to the weird show of watching his own skinny face in motion, "Oh, no. No, absolutely n—fine. This is—fine. I'm fine. I can fix this. I—oh, hell—"

The oh, hell isn't directed at the situation he's found himself in, disorienting as it may be, but at the voices coming back toward the kitchen. Edward's going to take one look at him and know something's wrong, and Alphonse won't even be able to mock him for overreacting because no really, how did he bungle a simple transmutation this badly—

"We're headin' out," Edward shouts, and on reflex Alphonse looks at the doorway and gets to experience the uniquely indescribable misstep of looking left with one pair of eyes while the other pair remains stubbornly fixed in place.

"Nngh."

Winry hears him, because of course that's his luck, and he sort of sees her poke her head into the kitchen. "Al? Y'okay?"

He really does try to brush it off, to get them out of the house so he can figure out whatever the fuck is happening on his own, but when he tries to wave them off the disconnect between simultaneously inhabiting a human body and not hits him like a blow to the head. He staggers hard. The next thing he's peripherally aware of is Winry and Edward helping him back to the dining table, alternating between babbling sweet nothings and panicked everythings in his ears, all while watching himself get strong-armed into a chair from across the room. They're both loudly asking him variations of what the fuck, so he swallows until he can trust his voice and tells them with as much urgency as he can muster, "Frying pan."

They boggle at him. "What?"

"I'm in the frying pan."

"What?"

He looks at the frying pan. The frying pan looks at him. It sucks. His body's eyes can't help but scrunch, which just makes Edward and Winry hover more worriedly over him. "I'm," he repeats with varying amounts of grimace until they shut up and listen, "I was trying to repair that frying pan with the broken handle, over there."

They both look, which means they both turn to look at him but—obviously—they don't realize that. "Okay?" Edward offers, wary.

"I told Granny to throw that old thing out," Winry mutters mostly to herself, which answers that question for all that it doesn't matter.

"It didn't work—" Yes it did, he can see from here that it did, "—I mean, it did, but it also—I somehow, accidentally, transmuted myself at the same time—"

Edward's "What?!" is closely followed by Winry's far more bemused, "How'd you accidentally manage that?"

Neither reaction is unexpected, but neither are they particularly helpful. What's more important is that it sounds like they don't believe him. He presses his lips together and thinks about saying something, and lo and behold it's the frying pan that says, "I'm still trying to figure that out."

Naturally, they both freak out. Alphonse resigns himself to sitting there while they all but run around in circles, but then Edward has to go and get grabby with the frying pan and at least some amount of Alphonse's soul along with it. He hastily drops his crutch to grab the table with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut as the kitchen goes cartwheeling. The bang and clatter of his crutch hitting the tile is unwanted confirmation that he really is hearing things from two perspectives as well. "Put that down," comes out more snarly than he means it to, but it gets the job done. Edward thumps the pan down like it's burned him, and Alphonse finds himself tripping between relief and dread that he can only feel the vibration through one half of himself.

Edward hovers, stressed to the point of literal hand wringing, while Winry gently rubs Alphonse's back. It's not really as comforting as he remembers it being, before. His skin still prickles too easily at unexpected stimulation. He shies away from her touch, pretends not to see her hurt expression, and forces words out past the lump in his throat. It grounds him a little, to focus on all the complicated bits of speaking with a human mouth. "I transmuted my soul—"

"What? How?" They demand in unison, which does nothing for the headache creeping behind his eyes. He glares at them despite it.

"I don't know, now do I? I wasn't trying to do that! But I'm attached to the frying pan, and I—don't," he breaks off to kind of snarl when Edward twitches like he's thinking about getting grabby again.

"But—" Winry falters, biting her lip. "How are you still talking with your body?"

"I'm still in here too." He forces his real eyes open, though the left one immediately shuts again despite his best efforts. Looking at himself looking up at the ceiling is disorienting as hell. He tries to focus solely on Edward's wide-eyed alarm; after a moment of wibbling, he manages to get both perspectives to line up. It's still horribly bizarre, but it's at least a little more tolerable. "I don't know how, but I'm in both right now."

"That shouldn't be possible," Edward protests. "Splitting your soul? The fuck were you even trying to do?"

"I told you! Fix the stupid pan, that's all!"

The pan in question rattles on the table with no prompting on Alphonse's part. They all flinch back, swearing. Winry's hand settles on his shoulder, light but grounding all the same. "Can you—undo this?"

"H-hold on a second," Edward yelps. "Don't go off transmuting your soul all willy-nilly! Let's think about this for a second, huh? You must've done something else besides try and fix a fuckin' frying pan, so—"

"Please stop yelling," Alphonse complains, clapping his hands. Edward ignores his polite request in favor of more yelling, but thankfully most of it's drowned out by the transmutation. There's that lurch again, and then he's wholly back in his body like nothing had happened. Well, aside from Edward and Winry coming over all handsy in a way that's bruising and overwhelming and entirely unnecessary. "Oh my god, stop, I'm fine—"

"What's with all the shouting?" Granny calls from the front door. "Ed? Winry? Do us all a favor and save the fight for the walk into town, would you?"

"Al's not okay!" Edward hollers back, and Alphonse could just strangle him sometimes, he really could.

"I just said I'm fine, would you listen to me? And what would she do if I wasn't, huh? She can't exactly slap a plaster on my soul—" Which is the entirely wrong thing to say, of course, because Edward immediately falls over himself trying to—what, discern if Alphonse's soul needs stitches via aggressively close eye contact and a lot of shoulder patting? Alphonse flicks him in the nose to get some breathing space just as Granny appears in the kitchen doorway. "I'm fine," he assures her before the other two can get a word in. "Ignore literally anything they say, it was just a bit of accidental alchemy—"

"Accidental," Edward echoes with half-hysterical disgust. "How do you accidentally transmute—"

"By accident," Alphonse interrupts serenely, flicking him again.

Granny gives them all a look over her glasses, like she's strongly tempted to bust out the Stray Dog a few hours early if they're going to keep this level of buffoonery up. The look travels around the kitchen, clearly looking for anything amiss, and lands squarely on the frying pan laid incongruously on the dining table. "Hmm," she says, unimpressed. "Let me know if you're up for helping me with the inventory later, Al."

"Of course," he says, though she's already done the smart thing and left well enough alone. She's his favorite.

"Al—" Winry starts, but nope, he's done being coddled for the day.

"I'm fine," he stresses. "Really." And that's enough to get Winry to back off some but Edward's still gearing up to pitch a fit. He forces calm into his voice and asks, "Could you get my crutch, Brother?"

"What? Oh, sure, here. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Completely." And he's not even fibbing, because he really does feel fine. "It was an accident, and no harm came from it—"

"Soul transmutation isn't something alchemists typically do by accident, least of all you." His tone is scathing, but Alphonse knows him too well not to take that as anything other than high praise. Edward's coming over all thoughtful in the face now, gears grinding. On the one hand Alphonse is right there with him because seriously, what, but on the other hand they really do need to go into town if they want Winry to carry through on her threat of baking an apple pie so good they'll both finally have a good cry.

He stands up brusquely, tamping down the vague irritation over the fact that he can't shepherd Edward around through sheer size alone anymore. His heart rate and breathing are both fine, and the only suggestion he can physically sense that something unusual happened is an uneasy prickle in his throat. He vaguely remembers this feeling from before, associating it with the same shock one gets at missing a step on a flight of stairs or almost dropping something fragile but catching it in the nick of time. Startling, but ultimately harmless.

"Al," Edward persists.

Alphonse reaches past him to pick up the frying pan. It's as heavy as it looks, which is to say his reedy stick of an arm does not appreciate hefting it around, but it's only for as long as it takes to cross the kitchen and hang it back up where it belongs. Then he turns and smiles widely at them both, because sheer force of personality comes in more than one flavor. "Have fun in town! I think I'm gonna go get started on that list now."

Winry cuffs Edward when he opens his mouth again. "Stop mother henning him. He's fine."

Edward, the undisputed king of mother hens everywhere, is clearly unconvinced. He glowers over his shoulder at the frying pan like it spat on Mom's grave as Winry shoves him out of the kitchen. Honestly. It's only once they're finally out of the house that Alphonse allows himself a thoughtful hum.

That was certainly... interesting.

There's a lot of spitballing about the accident—not yet definitive enough to warrant capitalization—over the next couple of days. Edward really can't get over how Alphonse managed soul transmutation without any enormous cost, and considering the only examples they know of are Philosopher's Stones, a couple of dead serial killers, and him, this is honestly a fair hangup to have. And Alphonse has the same hangup too, really! But his primary focus is less the fact that it happened consequence-free and more the fact that he split his soul consequence-free.

"But are you sure that's what happened?" Edward asks for the umpteenth time.

Alphonse finds himself fighting the urge to smirk. "I can always transmute my soul again—"

"No! I mean, jeez, give the damn thing a rest, huh? You've done enough body hopping, don't you think?"

"A frying pan is hardly a body—"

"There's a joke here," Winry chimes in, "You know, about frying pans and fires?"

They both sneer at her for that one, but the intended effect doesn't really pay off since she goes all soppy about how Alphonse can make stupid faces at her again.

Granny and Winry are doing their best to browbeat Edward under the knife again so they can do something about that ground beef masquerading as a functional right shoulder. Alphonse is helping apply the pressure at every opportunity as well; Edward can barely lift his arm over his head months after the fact and that's even after the surgery he got in Central. Edward, naturally, is under the impression that if he pretends hard enough he won't have to deal with it, and goes so far as to flee into town to "get a break from all this goddamn nagging."

"He can sleep in the yard for all I care," Winry grumbles, locking the front door and retreating to her workroom. Alphonse couldn't agree more. There's stubborn and then there's stupid.

Still, with Ed out of the house and Winry filling the house with the sound of shrieking metal, this would be as good a time as any to do some experimentation without anyone breathing down his neck. Well. Not without a spotter. He's curious, sure, but he's not an idiot. Look what messing around with souls cost them the first time around.

He hobbles back into the kitchen after Granny, who's in the middle of making a fresh pot of coffee. "Granny?"

"Mm?"

"I'd like your help with something if you don't mind."

"Of course. What is it?"

"Mm, something pretty stupid, more than likely."

That gets her to look at him, eyes twinkling over her glasses. "Oh, I get a warning this time, do I?"

He shrugs, smiling weakly. "I'd like to try to recreate the accident with the frying pan."

"The same 'accident' that's had your brother up in arms the last few days?" Her mouth thins when he nods, but she only tuts rather than says no outright. "You'll do it either way, naturally. Well, go on, then."

He waits until she's settled at the table with her coffee, then fetches the same pan and joins her. It's still a relief to sit for all that he's hardly been on his feet that much this morning; he takes a moment to relish the burn in his legs and back, rubbing his elbow where there's an indent from the crutch.

"Should we be doing this in the operating room instead?" Her tone is dry, but it's not really a joke.

"I'm not anticipating anything as extreme as that," he clarifies hastily, "especially not with how—easy, I suppose, this was the other day."

She hums and settles back in her chair, trusting his experience if not put entirely at ease. He eyes the pan. It's just a pan, no different than the rest hung up or stored in a cupboard. He still has no conscious knowledge, Gate-given or otherwise, as to how one would go about binding a soul to anything, yet he'd managed it entirely by accident.

Well. This experiment really is just to see if the results are reproducible. He thinks of that same repairing array and claps his hands. The moment he touches the handle there's that lurch again, and he has two pairs of eyes again, one still looking at the pan and the other looking at the ceiling, with Granny and himself barely in his peripheral vision. "Nngh."

"I assume that means it worked then?" Granny asks, wary.

"Mm-hm," he says, then frowns and thinks about saying, "Exactly the same as the first time," which comes out of the pan instead of him.

Granny twitches, half a curse slipping from her. She leans forward, peering at his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he says, trying not to close his eyes. "It's only—disorienting, seeing from two perspectives at the same time."

"So you really are—attached, I suppose, to this?" She reaches for the pan, but hesitates.

"Partly, yes. I don't know if it's a fifty-fifty split, or if that's even something that can be readily quantified. It's okay, pick it up."

She does so, gingerly, and even still Alphonse has to close his real eyes against the jolt in perspective. "You can't feel that, can you?"

"No, no. It's like the armor; no physical sensations, just sight and hearing. Is there anything unusual-looking about the pan now?"

"Besides looking better than the day I bought it?" She inspects it carefully, and Alphonse does his best not to squint throughout the process. "Ah."

"Ah," he agrees, because dead center on the bottom of the pan is the same seal Edward drew to bind his soul to the armor. Or, nearly. "No circle," he murmurs. A transmutation array instead, and so inherently less stable. Without a circle to control the transmutation it likely won't last long.

He touches it out of curiosity, pulls away when he feels his vision—visions?—wobble. It’s easier to interrupt the flow of energy without a circle too. What would happen if the array was broken? Would the piece of him in the pan automatically rejoin the whole, or—something worse?

"Hm," he says, and claps his hands. Lurch, and he's all where he should be, blinking rapidly at the twist and diminishing of his sight.

"Al?" Granny asks, a note of warning in her voice.

"I'm fine, thank you. You can put it down now."

She does so, and takes a moment to drink her coffee before asking, "Well?"

"Well, I've verified that this is a reproducible event rather than a fluke. Fixing this pan wasn't the first time I've transmuted something since I got my body back—" He plucks at his shirt, which he'd altered to better fit his underweight frame, "—but it was the first time I've transmuted metal, which might be relevant?”

They both hum, frowning at the pan a while.

"This is going to be a problem, isn't it," Granny says.

"I don't know if I'd go so far as to say ‘problem—’"

She quells him with a look, then keeps quelling him until he manages a satisfactory degree of shrinking and contrite, then sighs. "If you lose an arm playing around with this, don't come crying to me."

Which, fair.

This requires further experimentation—something Ed agrees with in theory but is hard pressed to just up and leave Alphonse to it. He gets the fuss—"Yes, Ed, I said fuss—" but he'd prefer to determine the parameters of what transmutations may or may not trigger an extra helping of accidental possession of inanimate objects in a controlled setting. What if it happened in a fight or something?

"Who the hell are you gonna be fighting in your shape?" Edward asks, poking him in the ribs.

Alphonse swats him. "You if you keep that up. And I didn't mean now, obviously, but we've kind of made it a habit to get in over our heads at this point, haven't we? It's sensible to stress test this now."

"I know that," Edward snaps in that particular tone he uses when he knows he's run out of logical points to argue but doesn't feel like he's had a proper chance to shout his problems away.

"Then it's decided," Alphonse says, not exactly pleased per se, but there's not much to do in Resembool beyond adhere to his strict PT regimen, reread books from the collection they've shipped out here over the years for safekeeping, and help out around the house. They stay busy, sure, but life in the countryside can hardly be called mentally stimulating.

They start with compiling and then running through an exhaustive list of materials that could potentially set off the secondary transmutation, figure out fairly quickly that it's pretty much only metals that manage it, and only those that have a decent amount of iron in their makeup. Considering they're freeloading in an automail clinic, determining that specification is a lot easier than it might have been elsewhere even with Winry grousing every time he clapped his hands around her stuff.

Point of interest: he transmutes his soul to a half-configured hand made of a near-identical alloy composition as his armor when Winry's not looking and experiences almost no lurch at all. So that’s something to keep in mind.

Narrowing down what triggers the partial soul transfer is also a helpful exercise in getting over the disorientation of two pairs of eyes and ears—technically only the perception of a second pair of each but that’s just nitpicking—not to mention testing whether or not there's a limit to how many times in one sitting he can flip flop out of himself before hitting any kind of limit. The answer to that last one is a few, and maybe one more beyond that before the headache/nausea gets to be too much, but those both diminish the more he gets a handle on the perspective thing. So a few becomes several becomes a lot becomes Edward grabbing him by the wrists, giving him a faceful of Crazy Eyes #9 ("I had little patience to start with and you are actively digging me an early grave right now,") and saying, "Let's take a break, huh?"

It's around this time that the shipment from Central they'd been expecting finally turns up. Inside it, of course, is his armor.

It’s strange, to see him again—and Alphonse can’t help but consider the armor as an individual rather than an object, after they’d spent so long as the same person. It’s more than a little surreal to see how badly wrecked he’d gotten on the Promised Day from the outside. Winry’s halfway outraged on his behalf, running careful fingers over his ragged pieces, cradling his head as if it’d hurt him if she accidentally dropped it. She and Edward have been that careful with him from the start—or very nearly; once they’d gotten over the shock of the armor’s size and severity, well, it was Alphonse inside it. Of course they treated him like glass.

Den runs off with the helmet while they’re all talking. Not his head, not anymore, though he doubts he’ll ever be comfortable referring to any part of the armor as simple parts. That’s alright. Den will bring the helmet back eventually or one of them will happen across it sooner or later. Alphonse’s real, human head is set squarely where it should be and can’t be knocked off quite so easily these days, and they’ve got all the rest of the armor right here to turn over to Winry.

He’d known from the moment Master Sergeant Fuery asked him what he wanted to do with the armor, when he’d still be attached to what had surely been a hundred beeping machines and three hundred tubes in Central Hospital. For all that Edward had laughed at his nervousness, Alphonse is relieved to find Winry is 100% on board with it. (“Of course I’m on board! That’s good quality steel for all that you went and destroyed it more times than I want to think about!”) There’s no way he would have been okay stashing him in some dusty corner while he goes on with his—their—life. Better to be repurposed. Better to be reforged. Better to be scattered into so many automail parts, helping people move forward after grueling loss and rehabilitation while he does the same.

Which, well, is a nice sentiment in theory, but actually watching his former body get beaten and melted down is another thing entirely. It’s just too easy to imagine still being bound to him! Edward’s just as unsettled as he is and Winry won’t stop laughing at them. It’s gratifying, to find that for all they’ve been through some things haven’t changed.

Even so, he decides he won’t follow through on asking Winry if she’d mind letting him watch her put any of those new automail parts to use.

It’s practically the next day that Edward finally agrees to let Winry and Granny at his shoulder, and since he’ll be out of commission for a while he heckles Alphonse into tabling any and all soul alchemy experiments until he’s up and about again.

Alphonse sighs and rolls his eyes and calls him several different synonyms for mother hen, but agrees in the end. He wishes them all good luck, curls up with a pile of books near the radio, which he turns up a hair past comfortably loud, and then the three of them all vanish down the hall to prep for a surgery Granny anticipates will take several hours.

Then he laughs.

He cannot believe Edward believed him so easily.

He stays put for an agonizing half hour—just in case—then eases down the hall with the pretense of a bathroom break on the tip of his tongue—just in case. It is nothing short of delightful to be able to tiptoe properly again, crutch and all. He hovers by the operating room door long enough to hear beeping machinery before quickly moving on; it might not be an outfitting and Edward will be out cold for the whole duration, but Alphonse doesn’t want to spare any more brain power imagining what’s going on in there than he absolutely has to.

Edward’s leg is laid out on Winry’s worktable, waiting for her to tinker with it while Edward recuperates. Alphonse hums at the sight of it. If he were more in the habit of making faces he thinks he’d be making a pretty unhappy one right now. It still doesn’t sit right with him, to be whole and on the mend while Ed’s still missing most of an entire limb and hard at work adding more scar tissue to his already upsetting collection. It doesn’t sit right with him either, what it cost Edward to bring Alphonse home, but both of those are two enormous conversations that neither of them are real set on hashing out yet. They probably won’t be for a while, especially with the unexpected development of this soul alchemy business.

Which! Look at him getting waylaid by anxiety and guilt again. He’s here to pilfer supplies for secret experiments, not stand here and woolgather. He grabs three smallish pieces of metal that don’t look relegated to any particular project, shoves them into his pockets, and tiptoe-crutches at top speed for the back door.

There’s a small stone bench in the herb garden, age-worn and wonderfully warmed by the late morning sunlight. He leans his crutch against it, fishing out the scrap metal as he sits. He closes his eyes, pleased that he can and pleased by the temporary peace. He can’t hear anything that might go on in the operating room out here.

He takes a deep breath—reveling too, in the heady smell of growing things—and claps his hands. He weathers the lurch with hardly a wince and settles in for one experiment he’s not assaulted Edward’s fraying patience with yet: time.

He’d thought about grabbing Edward’s pocket watch—never thrown in Brigadier General Mustang’s face despite heated promises of a broken nose and gleeful paparazzi to memorialize the occasion—from his room, but he knows Edward’s never bothered keeping it wound. Anyway, too many long nights alone have given him an excellent sense of time and he’s not interested in tracking this down to the exact second, at least not for this first test.

“Mm, I should’ve grabbed a book,” he mutters to himself. Then, fighting a grin at his own silliness, replies to himself through the bit of metal in his hands, “Sounds like a good excuse to test distance while we’re at it.”

Edward’s not liked the idea of this test either, too afraid Alphonse will fall and hurt himself even when he’s there to watch like a hawk. Well if he falls now the worst that could happen is a tumble down a couple stairs, and he's gotten enough of his coordination back that he would be surprised if he earned more than an easily hidden bruise.

He sets the bit of metal with a bit of soul in it on the bench, but an unshielded view of all that clean blue sky makes his real eyes water. He leans it against the bench leg instead, blinking through green grass. It’s not much of an improvement, not really, but it’s something.

"Well, here goes nothing," he says in tandem with himself, and grabs his crutch.

Distance Test #1 goes… fine. He doesn't fall trying to walk around, though it's a near thing beginning to end and he does totter like a drunk the whole way. He grabs a book at random and then has no way to grope around with his eyes mostly squeezed shut which slows him down even further. He does have a bad scare once he's back in the yard when his crutch bangs against Den's automail, so focused on getting back to the bench he didn't even see the dog trot up to him. Den figures out quickly that Alphonse would do better without him underfoot and backs off, tail wagging nervously until he finally eases back down to the bench.

He spends something like five minutes with his hands over his face, breathing deeply, watching Den shuffle anxious circles around the bench from ankle-height. All in all, no more than ten minutes into Time Test #1 and no sign of the array failing yet. He drops his hands and spends another five or so minutes petting Den and murmuring quietly to her. Dog fur is so much coarser than he remembered it to be, and leaves his hands tingling every time he pets her.

"Good girl," he tells her. She gives him a lolling doggy grin and collapses in the grass at his feet, obscuring the view from his soul bit completely. He finds he's not inclined to move her, so long as she doesn't roll up against the array and risk ruining the experiment.

Nothing else for it now but to sit here and wait; either for Winry to come find him or for the array to peter out. He takes up the book—a slim treatise on the applications of geothermal energy in Cretan alchemy—and does his level best to sink his teeth into it.

...As if a book he’s already read three times could be enough to distract him from worrying, honestly.

Winry finds him several hours later, having moved back inside before he could earn too bad a sunburn and already dreading Edward's drugged outrage when he sees it. He'd made the trek upstairs to Winry's room, knowing she'd know it was far enough away from the operating room not to hear anything and knowing too that she wouldn't mind the trespass.

"I thought I'd find you up here," she says, a little sympathetic but mostly exhausted. Den jumps up at once to circle around her, whining.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't hear you come up." He shuts the book, gone mostly skimmed with next to nothing absorbed, and tries to surreptitiously cover up his experiments with it. He underestimates the weight of the book, or the distance, or something; the scrape of steel against wood gives him away immediately. Winry comes over all suspicious, and there's never been any luck hiding secrets successfully from her, so he resigns himself to a good telling off and moves the book.

"Oh, Al," she sighs.

Alphonse sinks into his collar guiltily. He hates when she uses that voice. She only does when he or Edward have properly disappointed her.

“Ed’s sleeping,” she says instead of tearing him a new one. She really must be tired. “Everything went fine. He’ll probably be out for a few more hours, so try and finish... whatever you’re doing before you go see him, okay?”

“Winry—”

She holds up her hand, not looking at him. “I need to take a shower.”

Well that’s a get the fuck out, please if he’s ever heard one. He nods meekly, leveraging himself to his feet and crutch before gathering up the book and scrap metal. He can’t help the grimace as he jostles his second and third pair of not-really-there eyes, and of course Winry sees it. Her mouth thins, but she doesn’t say anything until he’s at her bedroom door.

“It’s scary, y’know? We’re just… we’re worried. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“...I know,” he replies. “It scares me too.” That isn’t the right word for how he feels about all of this, but that’d be getting into semantics. Winry’s never had their patience for splitting hairs and is dead on her feet besides. “But I want to understand it more. It happened purely by accident the first time. I don’t want something like that to catch me off guard.”

“Who are you so dead set on fighting that you’re planning for worst case scenarios like—like that already? You only just got your body back, Al!”

“Nobody! Nobody,” he repeats when she gives him a doubtful look. Jeez, it’s a lot scarier now that she’s taller than him. Hopefully that won’t last. “But—god, I don’t know. Ed and I—it seemed sometimes we could hardly go a week without running into purse thieves, never mind everything else that’s happened. I want to travel again, once I’m strong enough. There’s so much of Amestris I haven’t seen yet, and I want to study alkahestry in Xing one day too. I’m not naïve enough to think I’ll never have to protect myself, or somebody else, and I don’t want to be surprised by this.” He does a one-shoulder shrug to indicate the metal pressed between the book and his chest, wincing again when his vision jostles weirdly.

Her mouth thins again, but instead of yelling she only nods tiredly. “No surprises. That includes for us too, okay? Don’t go skulking around just to avoid Ed’s yelling. You know he’ll only go off twice as loud when he does eventually find out.”

He huffs, feeling his cheeks tighten with a stifled grin for all that the conversation is so serious. He’ll never get over how good it feels to smile. “Right.”

Up go her eyebrows in an obvious, are you serious with this? expression. She flaps her hand at him impatiently. “Well? What have you been doing up here?”

“O-oh. Well, uh—” He tells her about the initial tests out in the garden, small increases in distance and how long it would take for the array to fail on its own. It took about 90 minutes the first time, when he’d only wandered once, and about ten minutes less than that when he went and read on the front porch. Then when he went inside he figured he’d see if he could do more than one soul bind at the same time (this makes Winry look like she wants to beat him upside the head then crawl into bed to leave Edward to deal with this crazy alchemy shit, but she just nods and gestures for him to keep going when he hesitates) so he did that in the living room, and those arrays failed within five minutes of each other after little more than an hour, so then he decided to put one soul bind down in the basement then come all the way up here to bind two more, and well. Here they are now.

“How long’s it been?” She asks, not looking at him again. He can’t figure out her expression but he’s mostly sure she’s not going to yell at him, if for no other reason than to avoid waking Edward up.

“Mm, half an hour or so?”

“And you don’t feel like puking after spreading yourself around so much?”

“The one in the basement is facedown and so was one of these,” he says, shrug-gesturing again. “It helps. Honestly, Winry, I’d have canceled these two binds at the first sign of anything weird, but there’s been nothing. I mean, beyond being able to do this in the first place. I don’t feel sick, or strained, and nothing hurts. There hasn’t been anything like how it felt when my bind to the armor was failing either. I’m a little bit dizzy, but I’ve technically got four pairs of eyes right now. That’s just to be expected.”

She takes time for a slow inhale, sighing out more explosively as she scrubs her eyes. “Yeah. Okay, sure. Just—nix it on any more experiments until Ed’s out of bed, okay? And tell him what you’ve done once he’s not drugged to the gills.”

“I will, I promise.” He beams at her. It makes her go all happy-crinkly around the eyes when he does that, and this time’s no different.

#fma #fmasecretsanta2020 #fullmetal alchemist #my writing

18 notes · View notes

rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 20 - Therapy

Varian sat on the leather couch inside the doctor’s office nervously bouncing his knee up and down. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to run, but he knew that would upset Aunt Cass who was seated on the chair next to the door.

This was meant to be his first therapy session and he didn’t know what to expect, or to say, or what to do. Both Hiro and Wasabi had told him that all he had to do was talk to the doctor about his problems, but Varian didn’t really feel like talking. He didn’t feel like delving into his past and reliving those painful memories. Moreover, he didn’t want anyone in this world to know of his mistakes, even if they were just a stranger.

Just then the door opened and a tall woman with short bobbed hair and glasses walked in. She wore a white lab coat and held in her hand a clipboard and pen.

“Hello, Miss Templeton. Are we here to see Hiro today?” The woman asked Aunt Cass.

“Oh hi, Dr. Mcguire.” Aunt Cass stood up to shake her hand. “No, I called earlier and told the secretary this, but I’d like you to meet Varian. Varian this is Dr. Mcguire. She’s our family therapist.”The woman smiled and shook his hand as well, as Aunt Cass contunited. “Varian is from Europe and I’m fostering him while he’s here in the states.”

“Oh exciting!” The woman enthused. “Is this your first therapy session, Varian?”

Varian nodded his head numbly, still too unsure of himself to speak.

“Well there’s many different types of therapy. I’m a grief counselor. I use different techniques to help people deal with loss or trauma, such as, listening to people talk about their feelings and problems, helping people develop healthy coping mechanisms for anxiety or depression, helping people pinpoint or understand where their underlying issues are and what might cause them to react the way they do to certain situations, and basically anything else that helps the patient cope with their grief.”

Varian listened to the woman intently but none of what she said made any sense to him. He knew what all those words individually meant on their own but all together it just sounded like a word salad to him. He had no idea what any of that actually entailed in practice.

"Well, now Varian, tell me a little about yourself?" The doctor asked as she sat at her desk.

Varian only stared blankly at her, unsure what she wanted to hear.

Dr. Mcguire expounded "Do you have any interests or hobbies?"

Varian looked back to Aunt Cass questionly and she gave him an encouraging smile and a go on motion with her hands.

"Ummm...I like alchemy."

"Alchemy? Like the history of it, or is that some new video game I haven't heard of yet?" Dr. Mcguire gently laughed at herself. "My kids are always trying to get me into the lastest gaming craze and I can never seem to get the hang of it."

Varian once again could only stare. He'd played a few video games with Hiro and Fred, but he had no idea what was deemed popular or not. Nor did he know how to explain to this woman that he was a practitioner of a long dead science.

When this didn't elect a response from him the doctor tried a new line of questioning.

"Do you have a favorite video game?"

Varian shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't played many of them. We didn't have video games back in Old Corona."

"That's the city he came from." Aunt Cass explained. "Varian is from a Russia territory."

"Oh. Well, what did you play in Old Corona?" Dr. Mcguire asked.

"Not much." Varian racked his brain for a childhood game, but there had been no other kids to play with and his dad was not much for chess.

"My cellmate and I would play 'Noughts and Crosses' to pass the time. It's a little like Gomoku, but you try to get three in a row instead of five, and you just draw an X or O on to a grid you drew in the sand instead of having a board and colored pieces.'

"Oh we call that tic-tac-toe here." Aunt Cass cheerfully said, not immediately picking up on his mention of being in jail.

The doctor however did notice. "Cellmate?" She asked with concern.

Varian clamped his mouth shut at that. He didn't want to go into why he had been in prison, certainly not with Aunt Cass there.

Sensing the Varian's discomfort and seeing Dr. Mcguire's confusion, Aunt Cass spoke up. "I'm guessing the secretary didn't give you the forms we filled out?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I saw your name on the appointment and just assumed it was time again for Hiro's session. I'm sorry, that was unprofessional of me to assume and not come prepared. Would you like to reschedule?"

Aunt Cass looked to Varian. "It's up to you, sweetie."

Varian really didn't want to go through all this again. "No. I'm good."

"Well do you feel like talking about what's wrong then?" Asked Mcguire.

Varian tightened his jaw, unsure how to say no to the woman. But Dr. Mcguire knew her business and understood what Varian meant even without words.

"It's ok." She soothed. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. We're not here to make you feel uncomfortable. Therapy is supposed to help, not hurt."

This relaxed Varian a little, but only a little. He didn't know what either adult wanted from him then.

"Varian, would it help if I left?" Aunt Cass offered. "Or would you prefer that I stay? Either one is fine. It's your choice."

Varian looked back and forth between both women trying to decide. He honestly didn't know which would be more stressful; dealing with the doctor alone or risking slipping up again and having Aunt Cass find out about his past crimes.

"I...maybe?" He eventually answered.

"Alright then. I'll be just right outside the door if you need me." She stood up, walked over to Varian, gave him a peck on the forehead and an encouraging smile before closing the door and leaving.

Varian had to admit, he could breath more easily now that she'd left the room.

"Well," Dr. Mcguire spoke back up, "if you rather not talk about your issues right now, would you like to write about them instead?"

Varian gave her a confused look and in response she dug into a drawer in her desk and pulled out a notebook.

"Sometimes people find it easier to write about things than to talk about them. I often give my patiences journals, so that they can get out their feelings about stuff, make goals and plans, or to help keep track of their triggers and their responses."

She handed the notebook to Varian. It was thin and curiously printed on the front were images of lizards with hats and sunglasses riding upon skateboards. Varian might have thought it absurd looking but he was distracted by something that the doctor had said.

"Triggers?" He asked.

"A 'trigger' is anything that might make someone remember their trauma. It can be anything from a familiar sound or object, to an action or situation that is similar to an event that the person went through. When someone who's been through trauma comes across one of their triggers they might experience a panic attack, flashbacks, get angry or upset, or even completely shut down so to speak."

Varian studied the woman thoughtfully. Wasabi had described what a panic attack felt like and it sounded eerily similar to what he had felt when he ran away that day. The way he felt after having a nightmare. The way he'd felt when he had come home to find his dad unmoving in the amber.

“Do..do nightmares count?” He asked hesitantly.

“Well, yes, in a way. Nightmares are often associated with PTSD. They are a way for your mind to process what has happened to you. But they can also be caused by other things, like stress, anxiety, or just a lack of sleep. You’d have to dream about something multiple times and analyze those dreams in order to figure out their cause.”

She paused and studied Varian intently before continuing. "Some people write dream diaries to track the patterns of what they dream and when. You write what you've dreamed, good or bad, when you wake up. You also may write things like what time you went to bed, how long did you sleep, or what you may have eaten that day as those can affect how well you sleep."

"You could use your journal for that." She gently suggested.

"Then...then I show it to you?" He asked in kind.

"If you want to. Though, once again, you don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

"But, if I did, would it help?" Varian pressed, "Would it get rid of them?"

"It might help." The woman said measuredly. "Though it might not. Or you may need to do that along with a combination of things. The only way to find out is to try it."

Dr. Mcguire gave him a soft smile and Varian turned her words over in his mind. He would love for the nightmares to stop. They had only become more frequent since he moved in with the Hamada's. As if deep down he feared this new change in his life would become permanent and his subconscious was warning him to return home before it was too late. But, even still, while the doctor was right about not knowing till you tried, he worried over his past and what she or others might think of him once known. Then again, no reason to take a dream literally, right?

"I've..I...I've been having nightmares lately." He finally admitted. Dr. Mcguire only nodded along. She most likely had already guessed as much, but she didn't interrupt.

"They're always different. Like they're about different things. Sometimes they're about my home or my dad, sometimes about my friends, both old and new, and sometimes about, ummm, being in jail." He muttered this last part but then quickly contunited on, "They all end the same way though. With me being alone."

He met the doctor's eyes questioningly, wondering how she might respond. She looked to be contemplating over what he'd just confessed.

"Hmmm…Well dreams are rarely the same each time. It's usually just the repeated elements that we look for when analyzing. That's how the journal would help. But it looks like you figured out one of those elements on your own. Does being alone scare you?"

Varian looked at her wide eyed. He didn't know how to feel about having one of his greatest fears pointed out to him. It was true of course, but he didn't like to admit it.

"A, little." He admitted sheepishly.

"A lot of people fear being alone. We're social creatures. Humans need other humans and so we seek out relationships. It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Mcguire tried to ease his fear.

"Were you on your own in jail? Did you feel alone there?" She pressed.

"No, well sometimes, but like I said I at least had a cellmate. That's better than when I was completely on my own before then."

Dr. Mcguire face grew more concerned but she didn't pursue anything else about his time alone. Instead she asked, "Were you friends with your cellmate?"

"No." Varian scoffed, complaining about Andrew was easier than talking about his time spent on the run. "Dude was a creep."

"Oh, did you fight with him often?"

"Not usually. In fact we got along fine, but that's only because he'd pretend to be nice to get what he wanted. I always knew that's what he was doing, but I, guess I just went along with it because….because it was better than not talking to anybody at all."

Dr. Mcguire furrowed her brow, "What did he want from you then?"

Varian wiggled in his seat at that. He didn't want to go into the prison break and what followed thereafter. "Just….stuff."

This did not ease the doctor's fear. "How old were you when you went to jail?"

"I had just turned fifteen." He didn't know where this was going.

"And your cellmate was what, also fifteen, sixteen?" She guessed.

"Oh no. Corona doesn't have, what did the policeman call it, 'juvenile detention center.' Anyways, uh, I'm not sure what age Andrew was. He never said, but I would guess, like, late twenties?" Varian shrugged but he only became even more confused when he noted the look of horror on Dr Mcguire's face.

"And where were the guards when he was making you do… stuff?" She tried to hide it but Varian could still hear the way her voice shook.

"Ummm...well the guards make their rounds of the cells every ten minutes and stand guard at the door between then. Or they're supposed to, anyways. Sometimes they're late or they're switching shifts, or even sometimes asleep." He broke from his matter of fact statement with a little laugh. "I once saw Pete the guard fall asleep while standing up and Stan, the other guard, had to prop him up with his spear to keep the Captain from noticing." He whispered conspiratorially as if imparting some juicy bit of gossip.

But the doctor wasn't amused.

"It would appear that your home country has a very different legal system than ours." She stated as if trying to find a way to navigate Varian's revelations.

"I'll say." He snorted. Complaining about the conditions of the dungeon itself didn't bother him as much as admitting how he'd got there. He supposed it was because everyone suffered the same indignity as he did while there. So he didn't feel singled out.

"I saw what those cells down at the police station here looked like last week. Let me tell you. They were pristine." He began to number the differences on his fingers." Clean, not drafty, there were toilets, electric lights. I was on the bottom floor of the dungeon and all we had was a grate on the ceiling that let the tiniest bit of light and air in from the cell above us. Of course that wasn't much cause that cell only had a small window to begin with."

The doctor interrupted his ramble. "But what about when you were aloud outside?"

"Outside?" He echoed in confusion. "We never went outside. Who'd let criminals out of their cells willingly?"

Dr. Mcguire darted her eyes back and forth as if equally flabbergasted. "But, but what about for exercise!? Showers!? Mealtimes!?"

Varian looked at her unsure how to answer, now only realising just how vastly different the two realities really were.

"We ate in the cells." He said flatly in lieu of anything else. "Is the food better here too?"

"I don't know? What did they serve you?"

"Usually gruel, or bread and water. Sometimes we'd get scraps from the castle's kitchen. Like leftover bone broth before it went bad. I guess not to starve us completely."

"Castle?" She echoed hollowly.

"The jail is underneath the government's palace." He explained.

"And is that the only prison? Wouldn't that get over full?"

"Yeah, it does. That's why they only keep people there until they ship them off on the prison barge or…. til they hang them." He quietly admitted.

This seemed to be the last straw for the doctor.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to compose herself.

"Well, that..uh..we seem to be reaching near the end of our session. How about we bring Miss. Templeton back in?" She flashed him a strained grin, but Varian knew she was rattled and he feared he'd said too much or had done the wrong thing.

"You mean Aunt Cass?" He asked.

"Yes. So you call her 'aunt' too?" He nodded. " Well let's get your aunt in here and we'll talk about how best to continue your therapy."

Dr. Mcguire walked out and Varian could hear her and Aunt Cass having a hushed and hurried conversion. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew it was about him. Soon after, they both reentered the room and Aunt Cass took a seat next to him on the couch.

Dr. Mcguire sat at her desk again and proceeded to make an announcement.

"So Varian and I have talked a little and he's decided that he's going to keep a dream diary, which he can share with me during our next few sessions if he would like. However, I feel that Varian might benefit from seeing a specialist."

Varian heart dropped. He was being turned away? He'd somehow managed to screw up his first therapy session so bad the doctor was pawning him off to someone else.

"But, aren't you a specialist?" Aunt Cass asked, equally confused.

"Yes, but I deal with post trauma, sudden events, like a car accident or the recent death of a family member. After talking to Varian, it appears he's been through prolonged trauma. It'll take a few more sessions to confirm this but, he may have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's related to regular PTSD, there is some overlap in symptoms, but ultimately it requires different treatment."

Varian's stomach began to churn and he felt his heartbeat quicken. All he heard, behind the doctor's unfamiliar terminology, was that he was somehow, wrong or broken, more so than even the troubled patients she normally worked with. He wanted to cry, but instead he blinked back tears as Dr. Mcguire contunited.

"I have the name of a psychiatrist that I can recommend. I've worked with him before alongside other patients."

She handed a business card to Aunt Cass who leaned forward to take from her. As she read it the doctor went on.

"Dr. Brown deals with former soldiers, war refugees, abuse victims, and others who've had to endure extremely harsh conditions. He's better experienced in such cases and as a psychiatrist he can also prescribe any medicine that Varian might need."

"Medicine!?" Varian exploded and both women looked at him with concern. "But, but I'm not sick." He whined in protest.

Dr. Mcguire stood up and walked over to him. She knelt down to his level and looked him in the eye.

"I don't know if you are or aren't, diagnoses of mental illnesses take time, but you might still need prescribed medication even if you don't have an illness. You mentioned not sleeping well, something as simple as a herbal tea with added melatonin could help with that. However as a psychologist, and not a psychiatrist, I can legally write you a prescription for that, nor should I."

Varian darted his eyes about the room in confusion. Logically what the woman said made sense, he supposed, but that didn't stop his anxiety from raising. He felt cornered. He wanted to run again, but the gentle hand of Aunt Cass upon his shoulder rooted him to the couch.

"Look, you're still welcome to come see me." Dr. Mcguire reassured him. "I'll gladly help you in any way that I can. I just think Dr. Brown could do even more to help you."

"We just want what's best for you." Aunt Cass interjected. "Thank you, Dr. Mcguire. I'll give this Dr. Brown a call today when we get home."

And that was the end of it. They said their goodbyes and left.

On the whole way home, Varian sulked in the passenger seat as he stared dispondingly out the window. He could feel Aunt Cass nervously stealing glances of him, probably afraid he may jump out of the car again and try to run away.

She attempted to say something a few times, but thought better of it and kept quiet. The uncomfortable silence weighing upon them both until they arrived back at the Luck Cat.

Varian tore out of the car, pounded up the stairs, and was just about to run towards his new room, when he heard Aunt Cass say. "We need to talk."

Varian found himself sitting on a couch for the second time that day. This one in Hamada living room. He eyed Aunt Cass pensively and waited for yet another lecture.

"Sooo, I know that didn't go as well as we hoped today, but hey, we made some progress!" She gave him a plastered grin as she tried to find the silver lining. Varian only gave her a look as if she was crazy and rolled his eyes.

She heaved a heavy sigh.

"Varian, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people see special psychiatrists. That's what they're for. They wouldn't exist if people didn't need them."

Varian still refused to meet her gaze.

"Also, not everyone finds the right therapist on their first try. It took me a whole year and three different doctors before I found Dr. Mcguire."

Varian did look at her upon that revelation, this time with surprise on his face.

Aunt Cass gave him a small smile.

"Did you think you were the only one who needed therapy?" She gently teased, before admitting, "I was only 24 when I took in Tadashi and Hiro. I didn't know how to be a parent. I didn't know how to handle two grieving little boys nor the emotional roller coaster I was on as well. I had to get help. I had to try out different doctors, different types of therapy, even took medication for a little while, and it took time but in the end it did make things better for all of us. I just want you to get better as well."

Varian processed this confession as he wrestled with his growing sense of shame and despair.

"But...but…you never did anything to deserve that. It was just a bad thing that happened to you.. I… I on the other hand…I wasn't in that jail for no reason." He confessed before bursting into tears.

"I don't care." Aunt Cass quietly said.

Varian looked back in surprise again. She stood before him with worry etched onto her face.

"I don't care what you did." She reiterated. "It doesn't matter."

She bent down and cupped Varian's face into her hand, just as she did when he returned after running away.

"Varian, no one deserves to be treated the way you were. Especially a child. That..that was just cruel." Her voice broke. "Cruel, and inhumane, and oh god, what ever did they do to you to make you think you deserved it?" It was her turn to cry as she scooped Varian into a hug.

Varian blinked rapidly, both because of the tears and because he hadn't been expecting this reaction. He knew he was at fault. Everyone in the kingdom knew it. They all blamed him for what happened and threw nothing but scorn his way. The only reason that Aunt Cass and everyone else didn't hate him too was because they didn't know, surely. But the sincerity in her voice, the tender loving embrace, the way she put up with him and his stupid mistakes around the house, all made him desperate to believe her. So he hugged her tightly back.

"But.. But.. I'm not 'no one'" The tears flowed freely now. "I'm...I'm…I'm not like anyone. The doctor said so herself, today."

"No!" She pulled away from the embrace to look him dead in the eye. "No. She said you needed help that she couldn't give. Dr. Brown, though, can. He deals with people who've been through what you've been through. You're not alone. You're not broken. You're not weird. And you are most certainly not deserving of being thrown in a dungeon."

She wiped her fingers through his bangs, a sign of affection he'd come to recognize from her, and blinking back tears said, "Oh how I wish I could have been there for you sooner. But I'm here now. And so is Hiro, all your friends, Chief Cruz, Professor Granville, and Dr. Mcguire. Ok? We are all here for you now, and we love you, and nothing is going to change that. And now Dr. Brown will be there for you too. So please, let us help you."

Varian searched her eyes. These were words he had longed to hear for who knew how long, but when faced with them for real he had trouble giving into them; to believing them. The nagging voice in his head was screaming at him, warning him that it wasn't true, that they would all abandon his as soon as he screwed up or they found out the truth of his past, the same as how everyone else had given up on him, told him how he didn't deserve such kindness, ect.,but he didn't care. He wanted it to be true.

He nodded yes and flung his arms around Aunt Cass again. They remained that way, just holding each other for several minutes. While Aunt Cass stroked his hair and cooed reassuring words. How she loved him, how she wasn't going anywhere, how he was her child now and nothing would change that. He wasn't sure if he was ready to accept her as a parent yet, to him his dad was the only parent he needed, but he deeply appreciated all that she had done, all that she promised to do, and it felt good to finally be accepted somewhere, to be wanted .

When they finally stopped hugging Aunt Cass said she was going to call Dr. Brown and set up an appointment. She then stroked the top of his head again and asked if he wanted to help her bake something special for dinner. He nodded yes and they both put the unfortunate incident at the therapist behind them.

#Varian #Tangled #BH6 #aunt cass #cass hamada #big hero six #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #BH6 the series

50 notes · View notes

brax-was-here · 4 years

Text

Scarlet Briar: The Redemption of Ceara Chapter 8

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 8: She Was One of My Best Students

Sometimes the future leads to the past

“The hall of records is on sub level D of the college administration sector.” The golem spoke in an electronic voice.

“Ok, but how do I get there?” Amaranda asked it.

“Follow descending ramp D to Elevator 3C, then follow descending ramp B-“

“That doesn’t tell me anything!” she said raising her voice. “You asura have nothing marked here! How in Tyria does one find their way around in this city?” She slapped the information golem on top of its chassis.

“Alert…repeated assault will result in alerting the authorities.” It barked.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I hate these places.” She sighed. She looked around the immediate area. The Asura were everywhere, running about, showing off their latest inventions to each other, talking of gadgets and theories that Amaranda didn’t have the slightest knowledge about.

“Will someone please help me?” she asked out loud. “Anyone!?” Her pleas went seemingly ignored by the general populace. Sighing, she started walking through the city, looking for any other Sylvari, human or any other race that might be able to offer some assistance since it seemed the Asura were too preoccupied with anything and everything. It wasn’t long before she found a rampway that descended to the lower level of the city.

“The golem said descending ramp D…” she said to herself looking around for any kind of markings. There were none. “Well, I guess I’ll take my chances. I’ll either find what I’m looking for or I’ll be be lost in the bowels of this city forever.” she said as she walked down the ramp. The ramp exited out into what looked like a small market area.

“Oh, thank the pale tree!” she exclaimed as she spied two humans together near one of the stands. “Excuse me! I’d like to talk to you!” she exclaimed as she hurried over to them.

“Yes?” one asked turning towards her.

“I hope you can help me. I seem to be lost in this twisted maze of a city.”

One of the humans chuckled a little. Amaranda’s face went deadpan. “What is so funny?” she asked.

“It’s easy to get lost here. What are you looking for?” the other asked.

“I’m trying to find information on one of the students that studied here. I’m told that there is a ‘hall of records’ that would give me such information. Do you know where it might be?” The duo looked at each other momentarily with puzzled looks. They turned back and shrugged a little.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but we don’t know where that might be.” Amaranda’s glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished. Again, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh, slowly shaking her head. “Did you try one of the information golems?” one of them asked.

“Indeed, I did. It was of no help either.” she said walking away.

“I’ll help you” a gruff voice said from nearby. Amaranda turned to see an older Asura walking up to her.

“I thank you. Can you take me to the hall of records?”

“Indeed I can. Follow me.” He started walking away from her.

“Finally.” She sighed and followed behind him. “Can you tell me your name, kind sir?” she asked.

“Varvar.” he responded. “and yours?”

“Amaranda.”

“And what brought you to Rata Sum?”

“I’m on a search for information about one of the students that attended the schools here.”

“Oh?” He asked. “Well, who might this person be?”

“Well, My sister.”

He stopped walking, pausing for a moment before slowly turning towards her. “Sister?”

“Yes, sister-”

“There’s only been one Sylvari who attended these colleges.” He interrupted, a look of disdain on his face.

“I know, and…she’s…”

“She tried to fit a square block into a round hole and it drove her mad. Why are you looking for her information? You should know everything about her already, shouldn’t you?”

“I need to find her teacher.”

“Omadd is dead.” He responded.

“Yes, I know. But she had others. Please help me. It’s very important.”

He nodded his head and took a deep breath. “Ok, come on.”

“She wasn’t a bad person before…” Amaranda started. “She just…just…just got lost somewhere…”

“On her way to the Eternal Alchemy, and ‘lost’ is an understatement, but I’ll take your word for it.” Varvar replied. “But her actions speak for themselves. The things she did. I can guarantee they’ll never be forgotten nor forgiven.” Amaranda fell silent, sadness passing over her as she thought about how Ceara may never have true peace after her traumatic ordeal. It wasn’t long before they approached a teleport tube.

“Here we are. This will take you down to the proper level.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a teleport chute. You haven’t used these before?”

“I’m sorry, but not in a very long time. I do not spend much time in the cities.”

“A country bumpkin, are you? Just step in and it will instantly take you to where we want to go.”

Amaranda thought about the warp gates she had to use recently. “I hate these things.” she said out loud, stepping into the chute. In the blink of an eye she was standing in another part of the city, somewhat unsteady as she looked at her new surroundings. Varvar appeared next to her.

“See? Not so bad.” He quipped as he started walking. “Come on, this way.”

“Are we close?” she asked taking in the sites of the area. Glowing holograms floated in the air around various kinds of terminals. Asura working relentlessly on their gadgetry, surrounded by equipment that beeped and chirped constantly in a myriad of tones.

“We’re getting there.” Varvar replied.

“I can see why she was fascinated with being here.” Amaranda quipped. “All this…this equipment and technology.”

“We’re always on the move. Everyone is looking for the next big thing. Trying to be the next big name. I gave up on that a long time ago. Too stressful. Decided to just be me.”

“I see.”

“Your sister could have been something great…well…great in a good way, had the council listened to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She studied the Eternal Alchemy in such great capacity, that she was able to ordain information that no Asura had ever determined. She presented her findings to the Arcane Council, and they accused her of blasphemy. They rejected her findings. And yet, now they use her research to their advantage.”

“They stole her research from her?”

“Yep. And put their names on it. Those stiffs at the top couldn’t stand the fact that a Sylvari, who they consider to be somewhat primitive in thought, could actually glean more information about the Eternal Alchemy than any Asura.”

“That explains why she turned to the Inquest.”

“Possibly, but they didn’t help either. They betrayed her as well, and that got her ejected from the colleges.”

“I see.” Amaranda fell silent as she thought about her sister. “It seems all your life you were met with tragedy and disappointment. Your search for a better understand of life seemingly always lead you down the wrong path. Ceara…I promise it won’t always be like this. It will be better.” She thought to herself.

“You’ve become awfully quiet back there.” Varvar grunted.

“I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind at the moment.”

“Mhm. Anyway, one entrance to the hall of records is just up ahead. It might be a little tough to convince them to let us view her records, though. They don’t let just anyone access the record files, but I might be able to persuade them if they are reluctant.” As they approached the entrance, one of the guards stepped forward.

“Varvar, what are you doing here?” the guard asked.

“We came for tea and bread. Didn’t you get the invite?” Varvar retorted sarcastically. The guard looked at him, obviously not amused.

“What do you really want?”

“We just need to check some records. Why else would we be here?”

The guard eyed Amaranda momentarily. “Alright.” he finally replied. “Just don’t cause any trouble.” The duo entered the facility. Amaranda looked around at all the Asura technology lining the walls. Varvar approached an Asura wearing large glasses sitting behind a desk. Large screens floated in the air around him.

“What is it this time, Varvar?” he asked.

“Nice to see you again too, Krugg.” Varvar retorted. “We need to see the records of a certain student.” Krugg looked up from the desk at Amaranda.

“A sylvari? If this has something to do with who I think it is, that is off limits. Those records are sealed permanently. Only Councilor Flax can order those files unsealed.”

“You can’t even give us a peek?”

“Please, sir. It’s of vital importance. More people will suffer and die if we are not allowed to see that information.” Amaranda interjected.

“No can do. Now go away. As you can see, I’m extremely busy.” Krugg said sternly, turning back to his screens.

“Psshh…you won’t even help save the world? Imagine the fame and notoriety you will gain!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Imagine the fate of the Tyria hanging in the balance on this very moment.” Varvar said slyly. “But then the world erupts into flames because you refused to allow us to view those records. But if you did…why you could be deemed savior of Tyria!”

Krugg glanced at Varvar, who was smirking confidently.

“I think you’re lying.” Krugg retorted. “Now get out of here before I call security.”

“Oh?” replied Varvar. “How about I make you a deal. You let us see those files, and I won’t reveal your nightly activities.”

Krugg looked at Varvar, slightly concerned.

“That party. It’s not wise for college personel, especially members of higher caliber such as yourself., to partake of…what did you call it? Wing Dings?”

“I never…” Krugg’s sentence was cut short by Varvar’s finger on his mouth.

“You let us see those files and no one will ever know.”

“How did you know!?” Krugg asked exasperatedly, trying to keep his voice down.

“Eyes and ears on the street, my boy.” Varvar replied smugly, his smirk growing on his face. “Now is our ‘paperwork’ in order?”

Krugg breathed in deep. “Fine.” He said through gritted teeth. “It seems your ‘paperwork’ IS in order. Follow me.” He said loudly. Varvar winked at Amaranda and gave her a thumbs up. Krugg lead them to another room with a terminal similar in design but smaller than the one he was using. He started typing on the glowing keyboard.

“You better be right about this saving the world business, Varvar.” He said agitated.

“Oh I am. You just wait and see. The fate of the world hangs on this moment.” He turned to Amaranda and winked again. She smiled back lightly and then gasped as an image of a younger Ceara appeared on the screen. She brought her hand up to her chest.

“Something the matter?” Varvar asked confusingly.

“I…I didn’t realize how adorable she was with roses in her foliage, that’s all.” Amaranda replied.

“Yes, adorable. Krugg, we need a list of the teachers that taught her.”

Krugg typed in a command and text started filling the screen. “Hmm…Stigga seems to be the teacher you want.” Varvar said reading over the information. “He has the most knowledge of what she studied here.”

“You mean the Eternal Alchemy?” Krugg replied snarkly.

“No need to get uppity, Krugg. Remember you’re saving the world here.”

“I thank you.” Amaranda replied. “Where I might find him?”

“He’s at the College of Synergetics. I’ll take you there.”

“Oh thank you!” she quipped.

“Don’t mention it. And Krugg, remember you just saved all of Tyria. Good job!” Varvar said pointing finger guns at the younger Asura.

“So what are ‘wing-dings’?” Amaranda asked as they left the building.

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

Ceara wasted no time travelling through the countryside of the human kingdom of Kryta. She was heading east towards the Shiverpeak Mountains to visit a familiar cave that lay underneath the Durmond Priory in the hopes of finding anything that might help her. A kind farmer had given her a lift part of the way, taking her into the rolling hills of Gendarran Fields. She could see the piled wreckage of the gateway to Lion’s Arch in the distance when she decided to disembark from the farmer’s carriage.

“Thank you, farmer.” She said quietly, handing him a few coins.

“Anytime, stranger. I appreciated the company. Be safe out there. Centaurs and bandits are all around.”

“I will.” She replied as she started walking towards the Lion’s Arch gate. As she approached, she took pause, looking over the refugee camp in the distance. An emptiness filled her chest as she looked down at her hands.

“I did this…” she said to herself. She pulled the hood of her cloak in close and started walking towards the camp. She could make out an asura gate on the far end. She circled the edge of the camp, keeping her distance, watching the refugees and Lionguard move about. She paused as a child’s laughter caught her ear.

“In times such as this, there is still joy to be found by innocence.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply before continuing towards the gate. Looking at the Lionguard members guarding the portal, she quickly thought of a plan to get through. She pulled the scarf up over her mouth, holding it in place, coughing sporadically.

“Halt.” One of the Lionguard ordered. “Where are you going?”

“Durmond Priory.” She coughed, holding her hand over her mouth. The Lionguardsman looked concerned.

“Were you exposed to the gas?”

“Yes.” She coughed. “But I got out before it got too bad.”

“Then you should be resting. Not out moving about.”

“I know, sir. But I need to pass through. I…I have family on the other side.” She coughed.

The guard paused a moment before sighing. “Ok. Just be careful.”

“Thank you, sir.” She said quietly as she passed through the gate.

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

Varvar led Amaranda through the halls of the College of Synergetics. It was almost too overwhelming for her. Asura were everywhere, talking about things she had never heard of, showing off their inventions to their classmates.

“How in Tyria can you asura tolerate all this…this…this chaos?” she asked Varvar.

“It’s easy if you just ignore most of it.” He replied. He led her into the administration area of the college. There was an asuran female tending to a console.

“Yes?” she spoke in a snide tone as the duo approached, barely acknowledging their presence.

“We’re looking for Professor Stigga. Is he in?” Varvar asked rather cheerfully.

“Yes, fourth office on the left.” Her voice rather monotone.

“Thank you!” he replied. They started moving past the console.

“Wait a minute!” the clerk said raising her voice. They turned to see her tapping at another screen, still staring at her console. “Sign in please.” Varvar quickly typed in their names before continuing on their way.

“She didn’t even look at us. It’s as if we just ruined her day by coming here.” Amaranda noted.

“When you’re stuck at a dead-end job as a clerk, it sort of ruins your perspective on life.” He replied. “Ah, here we are. Stigga’s office” Standing in the doorway, they could see an older asura sitting at a desk, various holographic screens floating around him. A small golem hovered nearby. The asura turned to them, looking over his glasses.

“Can I help you?” he asked in an authoritative voice.

“Hello, Stigga. How’s it going?” Varvar asked in a jolly tone.

“What do you want, Varvar?”

“This Sylvari is looking for information on one of your former students.” Varvar replied. Stigga paused from typing on of the screens for a moment before slowly turning towards them.

“Is this about who I think it is?” He asked sternly.

“It’s about Ceara, sir.” Amaranda replied. Stigga took a deep breath.

“You best not bother about that one. She was very bright, one of my best students, but her ways were very unorthodox.”

“But sir, we’re trying to find out what happened to her in that machine. What did she see?”

“We all know what happened to her in that device. It shattered her mind. That’s common knowledge.”

“Yes, but…her ghost…I’ve seen it. It’s powerful, with some plan to do something terrible. We need to figure out how to stop it. Please sir, can you help us?” Amaranda pleaded. Stigga stared at her for a moment.

“Very well, follow me. I’m going to introduce you to two of my students who I am sure would be glad to help you.” Stigga lead them to another part of the college nearby. They entered a small lab that was filled with gadgets and paperwork everywhere. Two asura, a male and a female, were working at a workbench in the middle of the room.

“Front and center, you two.” Stigga ordered. The two asura looked up at him.

“What did we do now?” the male asked.

“Just get over here. You’re going out in the field. This sylvari has a ghost problem and you two are going to help her solve it.”

“YES!!” the female one exclaimed excitedly. “This lab was becoming a bit too stuffy!” They walked over and stood in front of Stigga. Stigga then turned to Amaranda.

“Shikijo and Joujou will be more than willing to help you in whatever you need.” He said to her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.” He left the lab.

“Well, now that you have the help you need, I’ll be taking my leave as well.” Varvar said.

“Thank you, Varvar. You have been a great help.” Amaranda said.

“It was nothing. Good luck in whatever it is you are trying to do.” He said as he walked out of the lab.

“So, sylvari, what is your name?” asked the female.

“Amaranda. Nice to meet you.” Amaranda replied.

“I’m Joujou, and this is Shikijo. So, what kind of ghost problem do you have? Seems unusual for a sylvari to have a ghost problem.”

“It’s Scarlet Briar. She’s gaining power through the use of chaos energy and has some kind of plan to use it to strengthen the jungle dragon. We need to figure out how to stop her.”

There was a long silence as the duo looked at Amaranda somewhat dumbfounded. “THE Scarlet Briar? The Terror of Tyria? The same that destroyed Lion’s Arch? Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure.” Amaranda replied.

“Um…oh, this is…is a lot bigger than we anticipated.” Shikijo said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

“We accept the challenge!” Joujou exclaimed excitedly. “Let’s get this show on the road!” The duo ran through the lab grabbing up equipment.

“Grab the spectrometer.”

“Got it, what about the psychoenergetic analyzer.”

“Yes, we need that. Where is it?”

“Um…in that box maybe?...What about over there?”

“Found it. Oh hey. I also found that lost photon reversal thermodongler we’ve been looking for.

“Well put it someplace where we’ll find it.”

“That’s what we did last time and we still lost it.”

When they were finished racing around the lab they approached Amaranda. “So where are we headed!?” asked Shikijo.

“Um..well, it moves around a lot. It’s been in Lion’s Arch, Kessex Hills, Divinity’s Reach for sure. Other places as well it seems.” Amaranda told them.

“Hmm…Lion’s Arch is where she supposedly died. Let’s start there.” Joujou said. “So, Amaranda, anything we should know about this ghost?”

“It’s very hostile. It’s as if….” Amaranda paused.

“As if?” Shikijo asked.

“As if…Ceara’s madness gained its own sentience and manifested itself.” Amaranda said quietly.

“Ah, so it’s not so much a ghost, but a part of that sylvari’s mind.” Joujou said thoughtfully.

“Uh…yes. I think so.”

“Ha, this will be a cakewalk.” Joujou replied confidently. “Let’s go bust us a ghost!”

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

Ceara exited the asura gate led to the old dwarven ruins that now housed the Durmand Priory. The Priory was a studious institution that collected, researched, and stored magical artifacts and texts in large underground storage chambers to protect them from the dragons, or anything else with malicious intent. In the mountain side below the Priory was the cave that led to her lair where she stayed while under the control of the jungle dragon. She pulled her cloak in close as the wind in the mountains whipped by her. She was thankful she had built in a small portable heat unit in the power pack to her armor to keep her warm when needed. She paused a moment as she looked over another refugee camp that was set up below the base of the Priory. She closed her eyes for a moment, a tear running down her cheek. She took a deep breath and made her way through the camp cautiously. People hundled together around campfires, wrapped in blankets, eating food from tin cans.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered to herself. She passed by a post that had a wanted poster of her stuck to it. Various knives and other sharp implements stuck in it. She pulled her cloak closer and made her way to the entrance of the cave. She paused, a flood of memories flashed through her mind. Memories of a time she called this cave her home.

“This would be so much easier had my teleporter not fried.” She thought entering the cave. “I remember there being a lot of beasties in here. Especially that giant ice worm.” She cautiously made her way down into the cave, which was surprisingly clear. She felt a tad uneasy about it. “Something or someone has been through here.” She murmured to herself as she struck up a small light from one of her satchels. She made it to the edge of the frozen pond that was deep within the cavern. The entrance to her former lair was on the other side. She could hear the ice worms slithering about under the ice.

“1…2…3!” she darted across the ice. It groaned and cracked under her feet as she ran trying not to lose her footing. The ice exploded behind her as one of the worms crashed through trying to have her as a meal. Mere moments seemed to be an eternity when she finally reached the far side, clamoring as fast as she could up the rocky incline.

“Well, that was easier than I thought.” She said catching her breath. She was cut short by a noise behind her. She turned to see a figure in the darkness up ahead, holding a torch. It grunted and snarled as it approached her.

“A troll. I seem to remember they had a dwelling nearby.” She pulled out the pistol she took from her aetherblade assaulter and fired a shot at it. It howled and ran back the way it came. She hurried to the small alcove where the entrance to her lair was located. She paused, noticing the fake holographic wall that hid the entrance was inactive, and the heavy steel door sat opened. Cautionsly, she looked around the entrance before slowly stepping in. The room was dark, activating the switch that powered the few lights did nothing.

“Thorns…” she whispered. She adjusted the small lamp she held to be as bright as possible. With its light, she was able to make out most of the small cave. Most of her things were gone, with only the rough furniture remaining. All of her notes and drawings, all of her equipment, all missing. Looking up at the ceiling, she saw the red painting of a serpentine dragon that she had painted in her madness. Omadd’s picture still hung in the corner, though the daggers she had stabbed in his eyes were long gone. She slowly raised her hand and lightly dragged her fingers down his face, a mix of anger and sorrow forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Because of you…I saw it…I saw the Eternal Alchemy…” she remembered that fateful day. Overzealous to finally be able to see the subject of her study. Not knowing what lay in wait for her within it. The face of her creator. She breathed in deeply before she turned to her chair, which still sat in its place, though the console and screen she had were missing as well. She put her hand on the armrest and stared at it before looking over at one of her workbenches. She smiled at the fact that they had even taken the drawing of the rocket propelled dolyak she had wanted to make.

“I really wanted to make that thing. I could have made it work.” She muttered to herself. “Well…there’s nothing of use to me here.” She sighed as she thought about what transpired in this room months prior. “Just nightmares…and painful memories.” She walked towards the door, thinking of her next option.

“It’s a long way to Prosperity.”

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Scarlet Briar #Sylvari #gw2 fanfiction #AU Ceara #Bring Back Ceara #Rata Sum #Amaranda The Lonesome #Asura #tyrias-library

18 notes · View notes

thecurseoflife · 4 years

Photo

CHAPTER 11 - The Snuggly Duckling

They had been walking silently for hours. Varian was still leading the way, and the table stand was surprisingly holding up quite well. Not half of it had been consumed by fire yet. Camalia was following him, deep in her thoughts. She took out of one of her pocket the pages she wrote on while she was in crisis. It was messy, but readable. Camalia had a couple of blank pages left. She took out the burn shard she used to write and started filling a page. It was kind of hard while walking but she didn't care. The list was clear enough. It would do. Once she was satisfied, she put everything back in her pocket and... violently hit Varian's back.

-OW !

She fell on her butt and rubbed her nose. Why did he stop like that ? She looked over. The small gallery finally ended and seemed to join a way bigger one. It had timbers to hold it up and even some torches that weren't lit. It was just a bigger gallery. But the alchemist seemed frozen. Camalia got back up and landed a hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to get him back to reality.

-Varian, are you ok ?

He shook her hand of his shoulder and continued to move forward.

-Yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving.

Camalia looked hurt, but the alchemist couldn't see it. And even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. The music mage took a deep breath, yet again. It was going to be okay. She handled two giant black snakes for ten years, she should be able to deal with a moody teenager. Hopefully.

They took one of the torch on the wall and lighted it up with the table stand before leaving the burned wood where they stood.

And they resumed to silently following the path. The girl didn't want to bother Varian with this, but her feet were seriously starting to hurt. After all, being bare foot in a tunnel filled with pointy rocks and walking on them for hours wasn't really the best idea. Every steps was starting to feel like torture. She couldn't wait to be outside and to walk on sweet, soft grass. Or at least on a paved path. Anywhere, really than underground with an angry Varian, hurt feet and a dying torch.

After what felt like eternity to Camalia's poor feet, they finally saw a way out. They had to climb a ladder to get to it, but the light shining through the hatch wasn't lying.

Varian pushed the trapdoor. It was placed in the giant hole of a tree, in the middle of the forest. When they closed it after being out, they noticed it had a weird duckling painting on it. As soon as they were outside, Camalia jumped in a pool of water with a relieved scream. She fell on her back and started doing an angel in the green healthy grass while chuckling like an idiot. For the first time in forever, she was outside during daylight, without having to hide or go straight to somewhere. She felt free. Once her feet felt better, she happily ran around enjoying the feel of every kind of ground she met under her toes. When Varian saw that it might take a while to keep moving, and that they needed a break anyway, he sat on one of the root of the hole tree and waited, watching his totally former friend enjoying herself.

There was no friendship anymore, just two people trying to save a dad from a magical amber. It was the only reason he was with her anyway. His only purpose : freeing his dad. Those thoughts were swerling in the alchemist's head as he was calmly waiting and watching Camalia climbing a tree with a very discreet smile.

Moments later, when the music mage was finally tired out and plopped beside Varian, he had a pretty good idea what they should be doing next. He decided that it was worth it to expose his plan to her.

-First of all, we have to avoid frequently used roads, stay in the forests where we can easily hide and get to my house as fast as possible. Let's avoid any distractions, just... Getting to Old Corona.

-Get to your house ? Why ?

Varian slapped himself in his mind. With all that had been going on, he didn't even mention to Camalia what he wanted her to do. He looked straight in her eyes.

-I think you could be able to free my dad.

Camalia was caught off guard. She genuinely expected him to say something like "we need to hide". She opened her mouth but the information hadn't been completely registered yet. Resulting on a very stupid position. When she finally finished processing what just happened, she reacted.

-Okay, hum. What. Why should I be the one to be able to break the unbreakable amber ?

Varian rolled his eyes, a little bit annoyed she wasn't putting it together when it was so obvious.

-You're a powerful music mage, and if the princess' hair didn't work, you're my last chance on the magic side. But since the amber is technically magic too, I think science and alchemy can't work on it. So you're my last, last chance.

-I- Okay. Okay. Yeah okay, I-hum... I'll try. I hope it'll work but... Varian ? You have to prepare yourself in case it doesn't.

The boy got up, storm in his eyes.

-I know what to do. You don't have to tell me, thanks.

-I was just concerned-

-Well don't. Let's keep moving.

They walked on a rocky and unused path for several minutes, and yet again, silence was rulling. Camalia was getting tired of the sound of their steps, and even if the chip of birds and the wind in the trees were beautiful sounds, they were all obliterated by the girl's discomfort. She wanted to make things right between Varian and her. So, she tried to talk.

-So, uh... Where's Ruddiger, anyway ?

-I left him home to watch over Dad since he's obviously the only one I can trust.

He looked at her with anger, trying to make her feel even more guilty. Camalia was baffled by how much the alchemist wasn't letting this go.

-Oh, come on Varian ! Are you going to be mad at me forever ? We had a bonding moment at the prison ! Does that mean nothing to you ?!

Varian brutally stopped and turned around.

-I have all the right in the world to be upset. And if I am going to be mad at you forever, deal with it. I am not going to apologize for something I didn't do. The only reason you're here right now is because I need you in order to free my dad. There's nothing else. And believe me, if there was any other music mages around here, even a big and scary one, I would gladly trade him over you.

As Varian resumed to walking, Camalia didn't. His words hurted. They hurted bad. Those words and all of those before. And Captain words, and the snakes' and all of this pain and everything she had buried deep inside of her, all her feelings suddenly crawled up to the surface and the girl exploded.

-I was scared, ok ?! I was scared that if I told you everything, maybe the curse would pass on to you or something ! I never experienced ANY of this. Relationship, friendship, the-the world, the unspoken codes of behaving well, all of this is NEW. I have only read about those in books. You are my first friend, Varian, so of course I make mistakes, and I mess up bad. I was raised by BOOKS and murderous giant snakes, for the king's sake, OF COURSE I am disturbed and I make bad decisions ! I mean, come on, Witheria used to throw me against a WALL when I was diserespectful ! So yes, I am sorry, I am deeply sorry, and I totally fully understood that honesty is super important in friendship, but PLEASE, try to see things from my perspective !

The alchemist had stopped again, and was staring at Camalia with deep surprise. She tried to get rid of the tears running down her cheeks but she only made it more of a mess.

-The only other person that could be more or less perceived as a friend would be Captain ! And I can assure you he's not a great reference, especially when you're a prisonner. And should I remember to you, Varian, that ten years before knowing you I made the decision to lock myself up in jail for the rest of my life ! I didn't even learn that we weren't supposed to eat with the mouth open before I was like, nine years old ! I am the queen of bad decisions ! And I should really stop yelling at you, I am so sorry, I am not even in the place to be angry at you right now. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you, I can handle this. I-Sorry, I'll just, shut up and uh... Yeah.

Camalia was awkwardly standing there, trying to wipe out the droplets, and avoiding the boy's look. She had small hiccups and bright red cheeks. For once, she really looked like a lost, confused and scared child. For once, she looked like how she felt inside. Varian opened his mouth, a bit shook by the flow of words, but the music mage cut him.

-And if you want to know everything I know, if you want to know the truth, I'll tell you. With no lying, no nothing. Okay ?

He nodded silently as she walked past him. He could hear her sniff in front of him, and it made him really uncomfortable. He still knew he was right, but maybe he went too far this time. And it wasn't true after all. Between a scary and unknown powerful music mage and sweet and messed up Camalia, he would obviously pick the girl.

-Listen-

They both spoke at the same time. The two former friends looked at eachother with surprise and let out a small giggle.

-Go ahead, Camalia.

-Listen, Varian. I didn't mean to scream at you and I shouldn't have. It's just that... Everything is so... New and overwhelming. I am out and I-I can actually live for the first time in ten years, and I am free from the curse, and I... I am just really, really sorry for lying to you. I know I am repeating myself but I... I really am. I am just a terrible friend.

Varian took the time to organize his thoughts. He was about to speak when they both heard something. Some kind of muffled voices, near them. Camalia looked behind a tree and gasped. There was a tavern, with the exact same symbol than the one on the hatch. The music mage turned an excited look to Varian.

-We should go !

-What- No ! We said no distractions ! Straight to my house !

-Yeah, but I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're both tired, and there is a place that could give us rest and food just there ! It would be a shame to miss it. Plus, there's the duck thing, so they must be friendly to people that burst out of jail.

-I don't know, Camalia, this seems like a bad idea... At least we should hide our identities.

The girl had a smile ears to ears, happy to go to a place with other people and to finally merge. She looked around and took a black thing that was laying there. She got closer to Varian that took a step back.

-Wowowo, I thought you had some kind of melody for this !

-Nope !

She spread the black stuff in his head, hiding his hair strip. Satisfied, she took a step back to admire her work.

-Seriously ? I don't think it'll be enough.

Camalia frowned and put the boy's googles on his chest instead of his head before nodding knowingly. She proceed to put a single mole in her cheek and she was done. Varian let out a very long sigh.

-This is going to end badly.

The music mage shrugged it off and ran toward the tavern, her heart pounding in her chest. The alchemist had a bad feeling about all this, but he followed her anyway.

-Come on, Varian ! Hurry up !

She was waiting in front of the door for him, stomping her feet with impatience. Once he was finally there, she opened the door wide and stepped in. The tavern that was noisy a minute ago brutally fell silent. Everyone was staring at the two kids with suspicious looks. One of them, a giant with two reduced human skulls on his chest, got up and approached them. He detailed them carefully and pulled out a wanted poster with both of their faces on it.

-I knew this was a bad idea...

Varian just whispered that, and seeing how close the man was, he probably heard it. But he didn't seem to care and taped on the paper, making Varian jolt a little.

-Have you seen those two ?

The alchemist stared at the colossus with disbelief. Was he serious ? It was obviously them. He looked over the guy's shoulder, and everyone else in the tavern seemed to think the same thing.

-I- uh... We... We didn't...

Varian stuttered, incapable of making a coherent sentence.

-Nope, we haven't seen them. Sorry guys.

The man grunted in disappointment and went back to the table with his "pals". Varian slowly started to breath again. Beside him, Camalia was waving and smiling to all those terrifying criminals. That girl was definitely insane. No normal human being should have been able to keep this calm in this situation. She pulled the boy toward the counter, and he could see that everyone had lost interest in them.

They sat in the chairs and Camalia ordered two drinks while the alchemist was trying to relax, surrounded by all those people that obviously thought of nothing else but getting them to the guards. It was a terrible idea, they should have never entered here. But if they left now in a hurry, it would have just been more suspicious. Beside him, unaware of the swerling thought in her friend's head, Camalia was having the time of her life. She was looking up and down, side to side, eager to understand, to see and to know everything there is to know about this place. It was the very first public place she'd ever been too, and for her, it was amazing.

The drinks finally arrived and Varian drunk all of his at once. It had a weird taste, but it immediatly relaxed him. He had a small hiccup when he put his empty cup down. Camalia was taking it slow, the strange aroma not really bothering her. Even if each sip was making her feel a little odd. But she thought it was normal, so she wasn't really alarmed by it.

Very soon, they both were completely drunk. Neither of them had never took alcohol before, and it was really effective. Varian started to see something was off when his sight became blurry. He had a moment where he thought they'd been poisoned, before realising it wasn't going any further than having a blurry sight, small hiccups from time to time and difficulty to actually think things through.

He frowned, like he was in deep concentration, and turned to Camalia that was just finishing her drink.

-Camalia, I think... I think we've just drank alcohool.

The guitare girl giggled stupidly.

-Oh, we did ? So that's what it taste like... I don't know if I like it though.

-Camlaia, this is serious ! We, hum, we're on the run, and it's a -hic- terrible time to get drunk.

-Relaaaax, Varian, we're going to be okay, it'ssss just a lil' bit of alcohool, and nobody know we're on the run here ! Isss just fine.

Varian scrouched his nose and pouted. It was probably not okay, but he couldn't keep focused long enough to actually find a decent solution to this, so he just shrugged it off.

-Hey, Camlaie... Camalai... Cam... Wow, your name is really hard to say when we're drunk.

They both started to chuckle until laughing uncontrollably, one of them often trying to say the girl's name and failing hilariously. At that point, with two completely wasted teenager hurling in his tavern, the barman was starting to reconsider his life choices, especially the one of mindlessly handing them two full cup of strong liquor.

When they finally calmed down, to the relief of the poor tavernier, the alchemist could finally say carefully, very carefully, what he wa meaning to say.

-Why was one of the snakes calling you "little plant" ?

Camalia considered him for a moment.

-Really ? Of all the questions you could ask right now, THIS is the -hic- the one you chose ?

Varian shrugged. Oddly enough, it was the first one that popped into his mind. It was probably the ethanol that was making this thought emerge from all the others.

-Well, at first it was because of the color of my eyes, because their insanely green, y'know... But it was just an occasional thing, most of the time she was just calling me "dear" or something... Then I grew giant stuffs of grass alllll over the cell and suddenly, BAM ! It was the official nickname ! Like, really ? But you know they kind of also threw me against walls and stuffs so uh, I guess it was the least of my worries. But I had a moment when she first called me that. I was like : well, uh... well that's... that's surprising, you know ?

The boy snickered and faced the girl, a big smile on his face.

-Wait so that mean she started to call you that because you -hic- you smashed everything in jail with a... a ding ding of your guitare ?

-Yeeeep...

He laughed again, finding it hilarious for some reason. She chuckled softly and took a sip of the water the barman carefully put in front of them. She really missed that. They may be completely drunk, and in a terrible place with poor disguise, and Varian may still be mad at her, but she felt great. Not just because of the alcohol. She just... she felt great.

-Oh, oh, did she have a nickname for me ?

Camalia focused on her friend again, and she tried to remember if she did...

-Well... If I remember correctly -wich I probably don't- she called you "alchemy boy" like... hic, once.

He thought about it for a minute or so, before nodding, like he was approving it.

-I guess it's a better nickname than "sburben", heh.

Camalia chocked in her drink, not expecting the joke and they both laughed at the top of their lungs. They were having fun, as much as back when they were in jail and hanging out. Camalia shuffled Varian's hair in an affective way and smiled at him.

-What can I say, Ball, my curse was great at finding nicknames !

Varian suddenly stopped laughing and he looked at his friend with emotion, hardly expressing the punch in the stomach he just felt. But for once, it was a good feeling. He felt his eyes water a little but he refused to become that emotional over a single word. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, emotion drowning his words as effectively as if he was in deep sea. He concentrated, and after long enough, a sentence finally crossed the barrier of his lips.

-It's... been a while since you called me that.

Camalia grinned, warmth and affection in her eyes. She raised her glass as if to salute him and took a sip before answering.

-It's been a while since I could.

Another wave of emotions hit Varian and he took deep breaths. Everything was messy in his head, and he didn't really know where he was at that point. He leaned of the counter, his head in his hands. Camalia wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't in actual pain. She kept drinking the water with a small smile, looking around the tavern and waving at whoever crossed her eyes.

The alchemist could hardly think, between all those feelings and the alcohol slithering in his veins. But he wanted to speak, and to actually express what he really had in his heart. He wanted to talk.

-Listen, I want to forgive you but... You shouldn't have done that. Not at that moment, not when I was in that state. A friend wouldn't have done what you've done.

He looked up in her eyes, and she could see that for once he was sincere. Camalia didn't look hurt or anything. She was listenning. And it encourage him to open even more.

-But on the other hand, to be honest, I... kind of consider you as a "best friend" ? I-I guess ? Because you are still sticking around despite me being a jerk around you, and... and you still have my back, you... you don't give up on me, and I think that's what friends do. But I still feel awful behaving like that around you, but I-I still can't forgive you... I...I don't know, I'm just...

He hid his face in his hands and sighed. He felt lighter after speaking, but it felt like it wasn't enough. It felt like he couldn't stop the flow of words, after holding them back for so long. It felt like he could say his deepest secrets and not regret it. But he shouldn't, he had to keep quiet, to keep it to himself like he always did.

-I'm just so confused...

Camalia winced a little. To be honest, she wasn't really seeing clear either. And it was not a pun with the fact they are currently drunk. The guitare girl didn't really know where she was in life at that point. What she was supposed to do, to say, how she was supposed to act, to behave, to walk... But all of that she already expressed it earlier. She didn't know what to do of her life, but she knew she wanted Varian to be a part of it. Camalia really wanted the scientist to be friend with her again. With all that in mind, she was about to answer when Varian suddenly sat straight up and continued talking.

-And I just realised that I am making the mistakes I did with Rapunzel all over again ! We were friends, now we aren't because of something you did that hurted me, I am trying to use you to free my dad... What's next ? I try to kill you with a giant robot and I fail, and I'm put back in prison again ?

Suddenly it was as if all the weights in the world was put back on his shoulders, and tiredness spread on his face. It was like all of what he had done, all of his mistakes and guilt were back after Camalia chased them away months ago. It was as if he remembered what he never forgot.

-I'm... I am just a mess, Cam.

Varian was avoiding her look, staring at the wall across the tavern. The girl softly brushed his arm, making him look back up. She had a weak smile before taking his hand in hers. She hesitated, biting her lips as if it costed her to say it. She frowned and made up her mind, looking straight in her friend blue eyes.

-Well, I am a mess too. Maybe... maybe we could try to stop being messes together ?

Varian squeezed slightly her hand, and not really knowing how to answer, he just smiled gently. Camalia could see this whole situation was really overwhelming for both of them, so she decided to break the crushing mood. She put her arms around his neck and hugged a very confused alchemist. Suddenly they were back in the tavern, even if they never left, with all criminals, the dimed light and the alcohol in their veins. Out of nowhere, Camalia climbed the counter and pointed her guitare in the air as if it was a sword.

Does any of this really matter, after all ?

We have other thing to worry about, Ball.

And really, maybe you'll be the best friend I'll never be.

Varian chuckled and clapped along, even if it meant dragging all attention onto them. Well, if they had to go down, the least they could do is go down with style.

And we jump, and we spin, around and around,

Not worrying about what might come next

Because what use to open the wound

When really you're the best friend I'll never be

But Camalia was already in the song, spinning and jumping like she was saying, hoping down the counter to jump on a table, talking like a bard spreading the best ballad of the moment. All of the bad guys in the tavern raised their heads, listenning to the teen, most of them seemed really invested in the song, even to move their foot in rythm. Some were so much into it that they grabbed whatever they had under their hands and started to provide background to the song. Camalia was dancing, from table to table, singing, and pouring her emotions out, laughing and smiling like it was all that mattered.

Because you're smart

Because you're great

Because you never give up, no you never do

And because you're kind

Because you're the best thing that ever happened to me

People were dancing all around the tavern by now, playing whatever instruments they made or singing along, some just moving around. The alchemist jumped on the same table Camalia was on and sang the last line with her, grinning ear to ear.

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Happy to see that Varian was as much into the moment as her, Camalia danced with him on the table while the song carried on in the crowd, each client of the tavern passing the song to another.

I used to throw fires at people I didn't like

I used to scare people away because I was too buff

I used to do some mountain bike

I used to collect handcuffs

I used to sing but it was too deep

I used to make some tasty cakes

I used to sell stolen things a bit cheap

I used to dive in frozen lakes

The two teenagers jumped off the table and danced around before taking the song back.

I used to threaten kingdom and royalty

And I used to be in jail for all eternity

And in a strong chorus everyone was singing at the top of their lungs the two sentences, as if they will never sing again.

But none of this you ever cared,

Because you're the best friend I'll never be !

This time Varian took over, driven by the song, the piano someone finally started to use following his voice and steps as he danced through the tavern, incapable of stopping, the beat in his heart, the melody in his head, the lyrics in his mouth, and the great happiness in his soul.

Because you're sweet,

Because you can play some melodies,

Because you're curious about what is all around us

And because you're cool,

Because you're one of the best thing that ever happened to me

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Everyone was lead by the song, smiles were all over the place, laughter resonated from time to time, and everything was just joy and music. The beat, the piano, the chorus, the voices, the moves, the tavern, the people, the heat, the lights, the moment, everything was perfect. Everything was fine, so fine you could get lost and never emerge from it. But they would get out of there. They always did and always will.

And it's because you're strong

And passionnate

And considerate

And it's because you play like a god

And sing

And swing

And it's because you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me,

Yeah the greatest thing that ever happened to me

That's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

The song ended but nobody moved, heavy breathing being all you could hear for a couple of seconds, before someone snicker in a corner and the whole Snuggly Duckling exploded in laughter. Slaps on people's back you didn't know five minutes before were distributed and friendship that weren't even a thought formed. Varian and Camalia finally exited the happy tavern arm in arm, grinning and snorting, completely unnoticed and overlooked. It may be because of the song still beating in their ears, or the alcohol still flowing in their blood, but they were both really relaxed and glad to be right there, right now, with the right person.

The day was warm, with a gentle wind brushing the skin, avoiding any burn. The grass was fresh and the birds singing in the trees. After walking a while in the forest, away from the path and tavern, laughing and stumbling, Camalia and Varian plopped down in the grass, under a tree gracefully protecting them with it's shadow. They stayed like that a while, laying peacefully in the grass. A few insects passed by, wondering what those two humans were doing here, then going on with their day.

-Hey Varian, can you guess what a lycaedes melissa samuelis is ?

The alchemist felt his heart warm up and tears built up in his eyes. He brushed them away, smiling like a kid, and thinking about what she asked. His brain was really slowed down by the alcohol, and he couldn't keep focus on searching an answer. Distractly looking at a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, he shrugged and gave the first thing that came in his mind.

-I have no idea why, but it makes me think of a butterfly.

-Woah, no way, you guessed !

-Really ? You're not messing with me ?

-No no, I swear ! It's probably the only insect's name I remember but it's because there was such a pretty drawing of the butterfly in the book, it just stuck with me.

He snickered, proud of guessing the right thing. He started thinking about a question to ask his friend, when his train of thoughts stopped on something.

-Hey, Camli- Cam ?

The music mage was surprised by the serious tone of his voice, and her throat tighten. She feared she had taken a step too far and now he was mad at her again for some reason, and she would be all alone again. Thankfully, it was not what happened.

-Before we enter the duck tavern, you... you said you would actually tell me your real story if I wanted to. Well... I do.

Camalia took a moment to actually register the information and calm down from the rush of adrealin she just had. It was always difficult for her to talk about her past. No, it was the first time ever she would actually talk about it to anyone. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Varian, and, if he couldn't trust her... she knew she could trust him.

-Okay. So I don't remember anything before waking up in an alley in Corona. I was around 1 I think, so it's really blurry, but I do know that Witheria and Decaiera were with me. Not the giant scary snakes you saw, they were... two sweet and small white snakes that took care of me until I turned 4. That year, I can not forget. They were there, and then POOF ! Gone ! The day I turned 4. I never understood why that day, but I did understand where they went not long after that. Wait I-hum... That's not in the right order. Hold on, backing down.

Varian giggled as silently as possible, but he still got a tap on his head from an annoyed Camalia.

-So I turned 4, they were gone, I was all alone without a house or anything, with nothing but a guitare and a stolen shirt I used as a dress. I never had to worry about sleeping soundly or... or food, With' and Decaiera were always providing. But then, I had to think about those. I didn't want to steal at first, So I tried performing in the street so people would give me money and I could buy something. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well, until that guy I told you about came and wrecked my guitare on the ground. I got really scared that the horrible pain would go back if I tried playing and singing again for money, so I... I just stopped. But I still had to eat. So, after three days without eating, I stole something. It was just an apple I think. Anyway, I was really tired and weak, and the guards catched me really quickly. I went to court, and I was terrified. I was holding at my guitare like my life depended on it -which, heh, it does- in the middle of all those giants talking about what they should do with me. When one of them mentionned raising me and giving me a home., I got scared. Yeah, I uh... I forgot to mention -I am terrible at telling stories- that I had a crisis during the time I was starving myself.

The alchemist frowned and was about to ask a question then shut his mouth. He would wait until she's done opening up. It was for the better.

-I knew I was super dangerous, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. So I asked them to put me in a place where I couldn't. That's when Cap' spoke up. I went in prison, and imagine, going from a dirty alley, using the rain to shower to Corona's prison ? That was amazing for me ! I had a bed, and space, and a ceiling above my head. I felt safe for the first time in a year. I was so excited ! The king and queen accepted to let me stay there. I met Masha that day, she was the one to bath me and make me eat when I was a kid. So the years passed, I had a crisis every single years, sometime more, but never less. I was still happy with what I got, but at ten years old, it was starting to feel a bit... small. And lonely. Cap' often came by to talk or play with me, he was like a friend to me... But there always been a...a distance, you know ? Like I wasn't really part of his world. So, I tried to have friends in prison.

Camalia took a break there. She didn't really like to talk about how lonely and distressed she felt all the time back then. But she wanted to be completely honest to Varian. She just needed some time to get this right.

-Most of the times the baddies were just ignoring me, some used me to escape, and some were actually really nice to me, until they got out and forgot all about my existence. That was a fun part of my life. But most of the time, I was bored and alone. I knew I had a key to get out, but I was always terrified that it would be when I was outside the snakes would "possess" me or something. So I stayed in jail, reading an insane amount of books, playing with my guitare and doing some stupid stuffs whenever I could. Cap' often came down to yell at me because I exploded something or sang to loud. Oh, I remember I used to go in the castle, back when the curse wasn't as strong as today. I met a lot of people, and I think they liked me ! But never enough to go see me in prison. I never saw the king or queen again, don't really know why. And about the prisoners, there was that guy, Flynn Rider, that really stuck with me because he had the exact same name as my favourite book character ! He was also really nice to me whenever he came by. Which was a lot. It took him a while to actually remember my name, but once he did, he got it. He always waved at me whenever he passed by to go to his cell. Really nice guy. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen him in a while.

Varian was about to inform her of the wereabout of the book character, but he changed his mind once again at the last moment.

-Anyway, I grew up, and Cap' was spending less and less time with me, until he didn't come at all, except to be angry at me. I never understood why, but I shrugged it off, there wasn't much I could do. And then, YOU showed up ! I was so happy to see that there was someone my age in the cell right across the corridor ! Of course, at that time, you weren't really "in the mood". But I always hated to see people down and I really wanted to cheer you up. Blah blah blah, we became friends, gnagnagna, I lied to you because I was afraid, blah blah blah, you learned about the curse, got mad at me, we escaped, and HERE WE ARE !

Her voice faded away and the birds, wind, insects and soft brush took over what was their. The sounds mingled together in perfect harmony, the only melody they wanted to hear right now. The melody of nature. Varian had thousands questions, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out for Camalia's hand and hold it tight. The sun was warm, the shadow was cool, the tree was chanting, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, life was all around them and in their heart and soul. They silently contemplated everything.

Maybe it was already fine. FIRST / PREVIOUS

#varian #the snuggly duckling #tcol #the curse of life #camalia #the kingdom of corona #varian the alchemist #tangled #tangled the series #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #drunk #fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

mysteryvoidscientist · 4 years

Text

MLQC x The Arcana Game (Asra)---------Continuation-

⚠Possible Spoilers⚠

Lucien

MC: Now to our venerable scientist and professor, Lucien! Professor please hop on stage!

Unfazed by what happened to the others before him, he nodded with his usual calming smile and sat in front of Asra. There was a round of applause but the audience was more curious to see a Science vs Occult scene. Eyes fixed on both of them, they sometimes darted towards the table as the fortune teller was shuffling his cards per usual.

Asra: It's an honour to have you, professor Lucien.

Lucien: The honour is mine. I look forward to what the cards will tell us.

Asra: Hahaha that's the spirit!

Everyone was dumbfounded. They didn't expect for them to be all friendly, and there was no electricity in the air whatsoever.

MC: Professor Lucien, what do you think of occultism, if you don't mind me asking? The audience is curious about your thoughts on the matter and is questioning your purpose in coming here to get a reading.

The neuroscientist chuckled then observed the cards being put on the table in a row.

Lucien: The famous scientists of history are often thought of as strict ideologues with personalities as empirical as their scientific methods, and there are plenty of those, indeed. But there were also a number of brilliant minds with major contributions to humanity whose beliefs in paranormal and metaphysical sciences will go down in the annals of occult history. After all, the occult sciences are based on physics, astrology, alchemy and natural magic. Isaac Newton, Jack Parsons, The Curie couple, Nikola Tesla and many more are important figures of science history, yet they believed in the occult sciences. Oh my, have I turned your show into a lecture again?

Lucien chuckled as did MC and the audience, who were equally amazed by what he said.

MC: So you believe in it?

Lucien: I would rather say that I try to observe it from another angle and experiment with it. I am curious to learn the psychological effect it has.

Asra: Are you ready then?

Lucien: Yes, of course.

Asra did the same to Lucien what he did to the previous three, as the scent of pure myrrh enveloped Lucien's senses.

"Trust your instincts..." Giving her the advice he could not follow himself was neither a wrong move nor a right one. Maybe it was a greater force which made him spit it out as a warning. If he was following his instincts, he would have never left her, never let her go, never hurt her. He would have admitted his feelings to himself then to her, he would have protected her like any good friend, or perhaps lover. He could have been the artist for all he cared, her safety was his major mission... The only instinctive thing he could remember was giving her his dear Iridescent, and perhaps it was a mistake too, for the pen is mightier than the sword, but her might made his Iridescent equal to the sword, stained with blood as she was bringing it to her neck as a threat. Once she was the purest being in his eyes, full of colour among a monochrome world. But the more they spent time together, the more he stained her with parts of himself. He was disgusted by his behavior... he wanted her colors to remain pure, yet he dared impose his monochromatic self to her... he had to leave. Leave her and Iridescent behind. Protect her from the shadows and behind the scene, away from her. He didn't care if he was part of her life anymore, as long as she was safe and full of color.

"The goodness of water is that it benefits the ten thousand creatures; yet itself does not scramble, but is content with the places that all men disdain." The selflessness and willingness to be indiscriminately useful to her was overwhelming. He had to protect her from afar, be there whenever she was in danger. Yet, he didn't expect anything from her in return... perhaps he once was selfish enough to want her love, but times have changed and changed everyone with their flow.

"Which of you can assume such murkiness, to become in the end still and clear." Perhaps it was his first intention, but as the times slowed down, he was now willing to remain murky as long as it took to keep her from danger and from hurting herself again.

His mind was now vizualizing water which shone like a molten mirror. It had lost its turquoise to the night but in the moonlight the ripples twisted, as if the sea below them was shivering to loose the summer rays. Yet to his feet the warmth was still there, cocooned in the sub-aqua currents. It was all the invitation he needed to dive in, swim deeply into the welcoming blackness and leave his troubles bobbing on the boat above. How he wished she were to come with him... but she was still on the boat. So he decided to stay there and assist her instead. He was not selfish enough to wish for a future with her... but at least he would allow himself to hope that they will grow together, hand in hand, an old couple sitting underneath a camphor tree...

Lucien was sweating and breathing heavily, eyebrows knitted and furrowed. The audience gasped as they saw his hands grabbing three cards, fists grasping them so tight that they could have filled his palms with paper cuts. Asra clicked his fingers, and immediately Lucien returned to his senses, eyes wide, panting as if just rescued from drowning deeply in the ocean.

Asra: Are you... are you okay?

His case was worse than the three previous contestants who were watching eagerly and silently. Shaw was surprised, but careless about the whole thing.

Lucien: I... am. I'm fine... I felt water flowing downhill. I felt it drown me...

Asra: ...

Asra: Water, in flowing downhill, adapts to the turns and twists and declivities it encounters, often taking odd paths or being momentarily interrupted, but always proceeding forward. Perhaps your cards will reveal the reason why.

Lucien apologized for holding the cards so tight which made the magician chuckle.

Asra: Blame your fate. It's fine.

The professor chuckled in return, seemingly appreciating the magician. Asra revealed the first card as he flipped it, then closed his eyes to hear the honeyed words of his own archetype, the Magician. He flipped the next card and heard the threatening Death with oddly encouraging words. The third card was also upright, an understanding Judgement, righteous and wise.

Asra: The Magician makes real that which is unreal, manifesting desires from nothingless. He tells me that it's time to take action before all comes to naught. He told you, "Stay focused, you have a job to do".

Lucien: ...

Lucien: Indeed he is right. But why three cards at once?

Asra: Ah well... it depends on the hardships one faces, the mentality and complexes one has. Perhaps your life is more dynamic than it seems.

Lucien: I see...

The audience was silent like a graveyard, listening intently to the fortune teller.

Asra: Death reaps that which has run its course, allowing new life to grow in the space left behind.

Lucien: Death...

MC: ...

MC brought her hand to her mouth unconsciously, her heart feeling weird at the mention of Death. Lucien's eyes were gloomier and knew that Death was a very probable fate for his kind, but all the present people were mistaking its meaning.

Asra: Death symbolizes change. In the arcana, it doesn't hold its literal meaning. Don't fret.

Lucien chuckled and MC let out an unconscious sigh as her hand gripped her chest, which made him widen his eyes in emotion, momentarily so. Was she relieved it wasn't the case? Did that sigh mean that she still cared about him? That he still had a place in her heart?

Asra: Death passed on this message to me. "Do not fear change. All things must come to an end. Beauty lies in the transition after all".

Lucien: Change... what kind of change?

Asra: A change of heart and opinion perhaps.

Lucien: ...

Asra grabbed the final card and placed it in front of Lucien.

Asra: Judgement looks within for absolution, shedding time, worn insecurities and doubts. Judgement is perhaps answering Death and yourself for your question by telling you. "You should forgive yourself of past mistakes, heal your wounds and start anew. To want change is not selfish. It is your right".

Lucien's dark eyes opened wide and stared at the card, his heart beating fast. Was it a psychological trick? How could he possibly know anything? He admitted to himself that Asra was truly a clever man, or perhaps quite experienced for someone as young as he was. It made him chuckle before looking straight at the fortune teller and shaking his hands.

Lucien: It has been a pleasure, Mr Asra. I thank your cards for their advices. Would you perhaps join me for a cup of white tea someday? I would like to hear your opinion on certain subjects.

Asra: The pleasure is mine! Of course I'd love to. I'm honoured a professor like yourself would even think of discussing things with me! I'll bring my special pumpkin bread then.

They both smiled to each other honestly, which made the audience clap and whistle, except the participants and MC who were both shocked and dumbfounded, their heads repeating whats and hows.

-To Be Continued-

#mlqc #lucien #MC #Asra #TheArcana

14 notes · View notes

gauntie-o-dimm · 5 years

Text

Witchers | The Agreement

For the request, see here. It’s way too long to put on here XD

Word count: 5100+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, dub-con turning consensual

It had been unwise to return to Heatherton together with my twin sister that eventful night, but how could we've known of the ambush? After the Wild Hunt had destroyed our village, we deemed the place safe after a few weeks of waiting, hoping to reclaim our lost belongings, like the necklace of our passed mother. Thing is, the least thing we had expected was my sister to be choked in a firm grip from behind by one of the bandits, holding her in place before knocking her out. No, these weren't your regular bandits, I then had noticed, but masked men, looking for something. Why they had chosen for Heatherton, well, of that I had no knowledge. Perhaps it was because they knew about the desperation of the former inhabitants, what they would to get their life back. My sister and I looked alike, so they must've figured that we were twins, which was true, and it had made them choose a different way to blackmail me into doing something they wanted of me.

Witchers, one had said, the name of those mutants causing me to shiver in disgust. I had never liked Witchers... Well, not liking was an understatement. They were just as bad as the monsters they defeated, heartless creatures out for money. My hatred for these vile demons grew from a contract in the past, a few drowners slain in exchange for a royal part of my already small dowry, thus making me unable to marry in the future. What little fortune we had was taken from us, thus making my gut twist when someone mentioned these monster-slayers.

And I had to go to Kaer Morhen, the masked men said. Make up a list of what was left intact, how many Witchers there were left. Those men wanted something from there, as well. A list of what concoctions they used on a regular basis. I loved my sister, and the desperation to get her back was enough to set aside these negative feelings and agree to their terms. If I returned to Heatherton with a list of potions, alongside a well-detailed description of the state of these cat-eyed creatures, my sister would be released.

So here I was, standing in the main hall, listening to a boring explanation of the head stonemason. I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying to the group of people, instead choosing to look around. I felt sick to my stomach the moment my eye fell on a couple of Witchers sitting a little away. One of them had white hair, tied together loosely in a ponytail. The other two had darker hair, faces littered with scars that couldn't have been caused by anything else but monsters. My gaze crossed with one of theirs - the Witcher with shorter dark hair than the other one, a frown coming on his face. I shuddered visibly and turned back to the stonemason, pretending to be fully listening to the man.

Before I could go snoop around in those chambers, I had to get my hands on a map. Too bad the head stonemason was not paying attention to his belongings - he had spread a map out on the table he was assigned and had walked away, leaving me time to look.

I took out a small leather journal that I got from one of the masked men, scribbling down some instructions to myself. Down the stairs, somewhere not far from where I was standing. No one was paying attention to where I was going, a woman like me almost invisible compared to the burly men that worked with the stonemasons. "Three Witchers." I wrote down before shutting the book. From my satchel, I took a lockpicking set, preparing it as I tip-toed on my way to the alchemy lab. With help of the map I previously looked at it took mere minutes, soon making me able to kneel down in front of the door, starting to work with the small metal sticks.

The familiar click of a lock opening caused me to sigh in relief, rushing inside, the hinges creaking as I shut the door. I mentally cursed, though quickly regaining myself and concentrating on what I came here for in the first place. The laboratory seemed to be filled with all kinds of potions I didn't know the name of, haphazardly stacked across racks and barrels. As quick as I could, I went to work. I remembered what one of the men had instructed me to do - to use a specific kind of code that I had to learn as fast as I could. The last few days had been fruitful and I was certain that I mastered the code-text now.

Thus, I noted down what potions they made and what ingredients they consisted of - my curiosity of what these anonymous strangers wanted with the Witchers grew, though it remained unbeknownst to me. The Witcher to whom this laboratory belonged had a horrible handwriting, causing my hastily scribbles to slow down. I even took a few tiny glass bottles, putting them in my satchel. Despite it not being an order, I hope it would coax these men into releasing my sister sooner. And since I was so caught up in my work, well, I kind of forgot to pay attention to my surroundings. Little did I know, it would become the end of me:

'Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?' A dark voice startled me immensely, and in the movement that my body made, one of the vials shattered onto the tiles, the liquid that had been in it splattering everywhere. My breathing quickened, fear welling up in my chest. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' the voice repeated. Slowly, I turned around, holding up my hands in the air, as if he had to see that I was unarmed. It was the Witcher with the shorter dark hair, cat-like eyes scanning every detail of my face. I shuddered at the sight. 'That is none of your damn business.' 'But it is, missy. This is my lab, you work here and you are snooping around places where you shouldn't be.' I thickly swallowed at the intensity of his prying pupils.

He did a step in my direction. 'So, missy, you better start explaining, and fast.' My eyes fell to the ground, staring at my boots. 'I ah... Well, I was just wondering... I had to go to... To get...' I mentally slapped myself in the face not only for stuttering, but because I hadn't thought of a plan B in the first place. Getting discovered by these mutants like this was something I hadn't even thought about and the task proved to become a little harder.

'What is all this ruckus about?' - another Witcher showed up behind him - 'I thought you only had to grab some- Huh, what the fuck is she doing here? She is one of those workers, ain't she?' 'She is, Eskel. Good fucking morning to you. Don't you recognize her outfit?' The Witcher that was apparently going by the name Eskel rolled his eyes. His face was even more scarred than the one of his brother-in-arms, though eyes just as fierce. 'But what is she doing here, then?' The Witcher with the shorter hair frowned, 'Well, that is what I'd like to know. But the only thing she can do is gape like a fish and look at us as if we're a couple of Rotfiends.' I shuddered at the mental image of one of these necrophages that sometimes wandered around cemeteries, spitting bile and other filthy things until they came close to death and exploded - if we wanderers were lucky. The Witcher of whom I didn't know the name slightly reminded me of one of these creatures, in a way. He looked like he would explode too in extreme situations. Plus, he already smelled the part.

'Guess there is only one thing to it, then.' Eskel said, stepping closer. I instinctively did a step back. 'Don't you dare fucking touch me, you fucking mutant!' My taunts were in vain, soon strong hands were wrapped around my upper arm. The other Witcher soon joined him at the other side, grabbing my other arm, as if I would be able to flee out of Eskel's iron grip. 'Let the fuck go of me!' I whimpered, 'You are hurting me!' I hated the fact that my voice was trembling, now. 'Where are you taking me?!' The two Witchers were just silent and dragged me down the hallway, able to lift me up easily, though keep me low enough to leave me no room to kick their shins and knees. I felt like it, to be honest. They reeked of blood and death, like rotting corpses resting in the sun, waiting to be devoured by some kind of monster that only stank up the place more.

They took me down some stairs, that circled downwards, deeper and deeper into the castle until we reached what seemed like the bottom. I shivered at the dark and cold of the place, with no daylight slipping in through any window. One torch adorned the cobble wall, being the only source of illumination. 'I want to speak to the law! Guards!' 'Ain't no guards hearing you from down here, missy.' the one with the buzzed hair sneered, moving the door closed to lock me up. I grabbed the iron bars, jerking at them in a pathetic attempt to get out. 'You can call whatever you want, but that will leave the desire for us to cut out your tongue. So you better shut the fuck up.' I knew better than that. Obediently though not by wish, I sealed my lips together, crossing my arms in front of my chest. These men disgusted me till no end, and I started to hate them more with every passing second. 'So, what now?' Eskel said, looking over at his friend, who was having his gaze firmly fixated upon me. 'Well... I don't know.' he replied. 'We could get Geralt?' 'Fucking Geralt? Fuck, no! That son of a bitch will only tattle to Vesemir!' 'Lambert, get some fucking sense into your thick head!' Lambert, so that was his name. Eskel continued his rant: 'From the three of us, Geralt is the best with women.' 'With sorceresses, yes. What, do you think he is going to fuck her? Hell no, not happening! She is certainly up to something and we must find out what she is planning to do!' Eskel rolled his eyes. 'Whatever, I am not listening to you. I am going to get him.' With that, he disappeared, leaving me behind with the bold Witcher, who was still staring at me. 'We will get to the bottom of this.' 'There is nothing! I was just curious!' He raised an eyebrow. 'You know that I can hear it if you lie, huh? Witchers have super-senses, remember?' 'I bet they have to compensate for something else entirely.' I dared to snap back. 'What the fuck do you mean with that, huh?'

When I didn’t respond, he inhaled sharply, taking the key to unlock the door again. I frowned, still slowly walking backwards, not wanting to be near that animal for what it’s worth. ‘Give me your bag.’ Lambert instructed, holding out his hand. Instinctively, I clutched the satchel a little closer to my body. ‘Give me the fucking—’ He grabbed a hold of the strap, yanking it down in one quick motion, causing my shirt to rip in the process. ‘That’s what you fucking get, bloody thief.’

He walked a little away, making space. Nimble fingers opened the straps, soon flipping the bag upside down, everything that I carried scattering over the ground with much noise. Papers, herbs, potions that I had stolen from the lab, every last thing was dropped on the cold floor. With a thud, my leather journal fell out, catching the Witcher’s immediate attention. I silently cursed, though loud enough for him to hear, and it was enough reason to grab the bundle of papers.

‘What’s this, then?’ he asked tauntingly, skipping through the pages, not bothering to pick the pencil back up as it fell out. ‘Notes… On Witchers? Magic?’ His eyes scanned the page and he let out a sigh. ‘Of course, fucking coded. Tell me, what’s your name again?’ ‘(Y/n).’ ‘(Y/n). Who do you work for?’ I averted my gaze, not answering his question. ‘Who do you work for?!’ he repeated, louder this time, shouting. Still, I didn’t answer, shocked as he suddenly walked closer to me. He grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. I flinched at the raw strength, fruitlessly trying to yank my body away. ‘Don’t fucking touch me, you flea-infested dog!’ His eyes seemed to spit fire as well as his tongue. ‘I think someone needs to be taught a little lesson!’ He raised his other arm in the air, balled his fist and I cowered away, afraid of the impact of his beatings. When there was no blow delivered, I opened my eyes again. Lambert seemed troubled somehow, undecidedly hovering his clenched fingers in the air, not knowing whether to continue or not. ‘Who am I to slap a woman like that? Not that it will get any information out of you, anyways.’

He roughly pushed me down suddenly and I gasped at the impact the cold cobble had from up close, but my hands had quick enough a reflex to catch myself onto my palms, preventing me from smacking face-down onto the cold stone. My wrists immediately hurt and I wanted to turn to the Witcher to give him a dirty look, to snap at him that he was an absolute jerk, but my words left me the moment I felt his presence behind me.

Fingers wrapped around the edge of my trousers, practically ripping them off towards my knees. Goosebumps appeared on my skin at the sudden cold tickling my now bare ass-cheeks, and in between the utter confusion I felt, I found myself blushing brightly. ‘What the fuck!’ I exclaimed, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re going to do?!’ The Witcher let out a chuckle, the sound causing shivers to run down my spine. ‘Getting that information out of you.’

‘You think raping me will get me to speak?’ ‘Oh, I am not going to rape you. I am going to spank you.’ I bit my lip in anger, eyes narrowing at the mutant. ‘You’re worse than the monsters you slay!’ Slap! The sound of his palm hitting my butt echoed through the dungeon. I yelped in pain, feeling the immediate sting on my skin. Slap! ‘Who do you work for?’ he barked, crouched down next to my body to be able to slap me better, though free hand resting on his sword, just in case. Fucking prick. Slap! ‘I asked you something, bitch!’ I didn’t fight the tears anymore, freely letting them flow down my face. ‘None of your fucking busi—Nnngh!’ He slapped down harder, making me wonder if I was smelling blood from breaking skin or if it was because I bit the inside of my cheek too hard. ‘Who do you work for?!’ His hand smacked down again, though now resting on the small of my back. Despite the hatred I felt towards this bloody Witcher right now, the electric feel of his fingers on my butt… I cursed myself for my body starting to react to the assault.

‘I asked you something and I will ask again and again. Until you are all beat up and bloody, and then I am going to force you to sit down on a hot stove.’

‘Please…’ I pleaded, sniffling as snot leaked out of my nose. ‘Stop… Please, stop!’ He hummed, letting his hand momentarily slip down in between my ass-cheeks.

And then it happened. The moment his fingers dragged against my core to soothe some of the pain, perhaps, or to torture me, I let out the most lewd and pitiful moan I could imagine, with the sound of it echoing through the halls for all to hear, though I doubted it was startling no one but the rats. The Witcher chuckled deeply, tutting in disbelief. ‘Not only a thief, but a whore as well.’

‘Don’t you fucking touch me!’ I hissed through gritted teeth, trying to resist the feeling his finger was now drawing over my vagina, rubbing it teasingly, spreading juices. ‘You’re very wet, (Y/n). Is there something you aren’t telling me?’ ‘S-Stop…’ My mind screamed to push him away, to face any consequence, but my body told me otherwise. Soon, my mind was too blurry to comprehend what was happening, and I found myself pitifully moving my hips into his touch.

Lambert’s fingers slipped down my folds, parting them, sliding upwards towards my clit, that had started to grow hard under the arousal. I let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut at the touch. ‘Interesting…’ the brunet murmured, letting out a chuckle as he drew a few circles around the sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them softly. They were soon replaced onto my core, though, slipping knuckle-deep inside.

‘If anything, I’d say you are enjoying this.’ I whimpered at his taunts and the curling of his index finger, touching me in all the right places.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’ The state of bliss was immediately shattered by the return of the Witcher named Eskel, a look of disbelief on his face when I snapped my eyes open, looking at him in pure shock. Next to him, another Witcher, white-haired and just as confused.

Lambert let out a laugh, continuing to finger me awfully slow. ‘What does it look like? (Y/n) here, she has to be taught a lesson. She might be a spy, so I am trying to get some information out of her as well. Would you like to join me? Her body is preparing itself quite well already…’

He leaned in, pressing a kiss onto my neck. I shuddered, wanting to move away from him, attempting to free myself from his grip. I felt disgusting around those mutants, thinking of every insult I could throw their way, but my mind was too clouded with the pleasurable touches from the Witcher next to me. ‘You think this is going to solve anything?’ Eskel asked, ‘You’re such a pervert, Lambert! Fucking a woman isn’t going to get her to talk, and besides, she is our prisoner!’

Lambert arose from his crouched position, standing up and dusting down his clothes. ‘Eskel, what kind of Witcher are you? We could try to get this pretty lady to become our spy, perhaps our sex slave, whatever we want! It’s not like she is going anywhere.’

Eskel shook his head in disappointment, the Witcher with the white hair rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

‘Come on, it’s going to be fun taking her. She’s already liking it.’ ‘No, I’m not!’ ‘Your heartbeat is telling me otherwise.’ Lambert responded. He put his foot against the back of my thigh. ‘Sit on your knees, back straight.’ he instructed. It was best to obey him, I figured.

He grabbed a hold of my head so he could turn my face towards the other Witchers. ‘You guys can find out if she’s any good at sucking cock.’ My eyes widened – I had never done that before!

‘Geralt, stop that!’ Eskel said when the white haired Witcher unbuttoned his trousers. So, Geralt was his name. ‘Why should I?’ Geralt responded with a deep voice, the sound of it causing me to clench my thighs together a bit more. The immediate desire to hear him grunt my name welled up in my chest – wait, what in the hell was I thinking?

‘She’s pretty and it’s not like we’re known for our peaceful ways, are we?’ Eskel shook his head as Geralt freed his semi-hard erection from his underwear. ‘Exactly. Now, (Y/n). Open up.’ I did as he said, opening my mouth hesitantly though curious. He tapped the weeping tip of his penis against my lower lip, making a slightly wet sound. ‘Further.’ The sheer size of it made me swallow thickly, my lips opening to get more space. Geralt thrust his hips towards my face without a second warning, causing me to gag instantly. ‘Fuck, don’t use your teeth!’ he groaned, grabbing a hold of my (h/c) hair. ‘Is she any good?’ Lambert asked whilst starting to strip himself down as well. The sound of armor hitting the floor promised me he would be butt-naked the time I would turn around. ‘She is warm… Her lips are soft. Fuck, can you suck a little harder? Oh, yeah, that’s right!’ I closed my eyes, tears streaking down my face as Geralt’s cock hit the back of my throat repeatedly. I wasn’t used to the feeling of something so deep in my mouth, so it caused a slight ache to well up in my lungs.

‘Hmmm, she’s a natural alright. Feels like she has done this before.’ I frowned, oddly flattered by the compliment. Geralt just kept fucking my face, girth stretching up my mouth every thrust, making me able to wrap my lips around his length even better. ‘I wonder if her cunt feels the same.’ he wondered out loud, pulling his hard member from my mouth. I let go of it with an obnoxious pop, just starting to enjoy the taste of it. Eskel started to slowly take off his armor as well, apparently coaxed by his brothers to join in the fun as well. He was harder than Geralt, his cock smaller though fatter, and for some reason it made my mouth water. I felt a slight tug at my arm, instructing me to stand up. I did as I was told, though the sudden feeling of being lifted up by a pair of strong arms causing me to yelp. ‘Already going to talk, (Y/n)?’ I heard Lambert’s deep voice behind me, his hands holding onto my thighs, rolling my body towards his. My pants were removed further from my body, soon making me able to pull up my legs, held by the back of my knees against Lambert’s chest. Said Witcher was leaned against the wall for support, head of his cock pressing firmly against my entrance. ‘Judging by how well you sucked Geralt off, I trust you have no trouble taking in double into that sopping cunt of yours, huh?’ he taunted, Eskel appearing right in front of me. ‘Can you hold her for a second?’ Lambert asked, one of his hands letting go of me when Eskel supported my ass by one of his strong hands. Their fingers tingled against my skin.

A squeal left my body as Lambert pressed his tip inside, a surprised hum leaving him when he couldn’t enter me right away. ‘You going to tell me my cock’s the fattest you’ve ever had before, love?’ he murmured. Eskel however seemed to realized something when he witnessed my discomfort, despite my immense arousal and the sudden desire to be taken by the mutants I despised so deeply. ‘Lambert, hold on.’ he said with a soft voice, cupping my face in his free hand. ‘Are you alright?’ Of course I wasn’t, I wanted to say, for it stung between my legs. But I swallowed it away, instead choosing to get through the slight discomfort.

‘I think I already know.’ Geralt said, stroking himself whilst eyes were focused on my exposed flesh. ‘She’s tight, ain’t she? Still got a cherry that has to be popped?’ My eyes shut, embarrassed. ‘Someone who can suck dick that well, a virgin?!’ Lambert sounded almost mocking, though continuing the movement of his hips upwards, sliding into me even deeper until he was fully in till the hilt. I gasped, the pain easing, but what could I know?

Soon, Eskel stepped in between my legs, starting to slowly kiss me as his fingers massaged the sore edges of my stretching vagina. It was unfamiliar and it took a few seconds before I kissed him back, liking the taste on his tongue – a mixture of whiskey and something else altogether, though I couldn’t put a finger on it. It left me hungry for more of him. My eyes snapped open when I felt the tip of Eskel’s cock soon press next to Lambert’s length, attempting to slip himself inside as well. ‘Now that you’re being stretched, we could take you all the way as well.’ he said, moving his hips forward, increasing the burn between my legs significantly. ‘I had almost forgotten how good virgin cunt feels.’ Lambert said, breath heavy in my neck. ‘Always so tight and desperate…’ Eskel started to finger my clitoris in circular motions, easing himself inside with every small thrust of his pelvis, until he was fully in till the hilt, snugly pressed against me.

I softly started to moan at the pleasurable feeling beginning to build in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I hated Witchers seemed to be pushed away right now, leaving a desire deep within my loins to be pleased by them until I reached orgasm. They could destroy me for all I cared, and the intended mission that I came for in the first place didn’t cross my mind again. Instead there was pleasure, the ache growing to be nice and the motions of the two Witchers fucking me growing more and more smooth as time passed. My head leaned against Lamberts chest, his breathing ragged as he bounced my body onto his cock. I moaned out loud, wanton and lewd, a sound that I didn’t know I was capable of making. Geralt stood a little away, masturbating whilst gaze was fixated on my soaked cunt, fluids staining my legs and thighs. Part of me felt filthy, but it was nothing compared to the longing for release. For the first time in my life, I felt sexier than ever, and the idea that slipped into my mind that I could eventually become their spy and probably have more of these encounters had me clench my walls even tighter, if that was even possible.

Both Witchers groaned, wholly enjoying the feeling of ramming themselves into me, anything but bothered by the noise it made. ‘Do you want to talk now, princess?’ Lambert groaned in my ear, thrusts becoming shallow as his length throbbed inside of me. I rolled back my head, letting him kiss my neck in between grunts. ‘N-No… There is nothing to tell!’

An annoyed sigh left him, mouth retreating from my skin and instead starting to let out low grunts and groans. ‘Oh, I am going to fill you up so nicely…’ The erotic words had my clit twitch with the massaging that hadn’t stopped. ‘Geralt, come here.’ he said, beckoning the Witcher over as I suddenly felt a warm, sticky mess fill me up. Eskel grunted through gritted teeth, thrusting a few times with uneven movements before pulling out. I flinched at the slight pain of the removal, though the Witcher with the slightly longer dark hair gesturing Geralt to kneel down in between my legs.

Soon, the Witcher’s tongue was on my clit, mouth slurping at my juices, eating me out and having me see stars. I moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in my skull as I felt my high coming closer. The heat of Geralt’s tongue against my pearl alongside the thrusts that Lambert did in me had my body violently shaking.

This is what it was like to have an orgasm, I realized. With a loud moan, I came at the same moment I felt Lamberts hot spend shoot out of him, pushing it in deep as he could whilst the white haired Witcher didn’t waste any time sucking on the sensitive bud. My toes curled, legs quivering with pleasure.

Lambert slipped out of me, placing me back onto the floor. I immediately collapsed onto my knees, unable to stand up straight. It gave Geralt the chance to grab my chin, his other hand wrapped around his cock as he started to jerk himself off violently. ‘Hmmm, open up…’ I opened my mouth, wanting to take his hard member into my mouth again, but he immediately stopped me. ‘No, not that way… Just open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Guys…’ Eskel and Lambert stood at either side of me, their cocks also being palmed by themselves, although limp and thoroughly spent, swollen and red as their foreskin moved around their tips. Geralts load was hot and sticky on my face and his hard cock bobbed when he rested it on my tongue, tapping it a few times to give me a taste of his cum.

‘Clean us up.’ Lambert instructed. ‘All of our cum.’

I could taste my own juices on Eskel and Lambert their cocks, but I didn’t care.

‘Will you talk now?’ Lambert said as I slurped the remnants of sperm from their shafts, indulging myself in their taste.

‘As I said…’ I replied, kissing the head of his cock firmly. ‘There is nothing to be talking about.’

‘You’re a good liar, (Y/n).’ Eskel laughed, reaching for his armor again. The other men followed this example, though he scolded me when I tried to get my own clothes. ‘No, you’re staying here for a while like the horny whore you are. You need to let all that seed leak out a little before you can put on your underwear again. Don’t want it getting filthy, now do we?’

I was dumbfounded and still coming down from the incredible jolts that had set my body on fire a few minutes ago while I watched them re-dress.

‘We will get you to talk, you little minx, and we are going to force you to be our spy instead. How does that sound, huh?’

Mixed feelings ran through me, though right now, bliss was the one that caused me to pitifully moan – I just hoped that they would touch me again, take me again, fuck me again.

Lambert smirked, cupping my chin in his hand, pressing a rough kiss on my mouth. Then, the three of them left the cell, proceeding to lock it up tightly. ‘Well then, we will take your journal with us in an attempt to figure out what it says. Meanwhile, you can stay here. We will be back, and perhaps sooner than you think.’

On that note, they left the dungeon, on their way back upstairs, leaving me in the dark and cold.

The fact that my sister was still imprisoned by those masked men swiftly crossed my mind, though disappeared like the heat I had felt previously. There was nothing I could do, anyway.

And so, I awaited the moment that their footsteps would be audible on the stairs again, heralding a second session of bliss.

#witcher x reader #the witcher #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel

73 notes · View notes

fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 14

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 13 | read on ao3

1914

anywhere the sun shines

anywhere your love goes

you will find me

“Moving to Central?” Riza asked in surprise. Roy had mentioned the move before but that seemed like a far-off thing – something not happening until the end of the year, or in the new one.

“They liked how I handled the Scar situation so much that they promoted me.”

“A promotion too?”

“Don’t act like it was so unlikely,” he grinned cheekily.

“No, I’m just… This is great for you.” Her expression softened, her lips curving upwards as he grinned at her. “Well done. I’m proud of you, and this is a step in the right direction.”

Roy’s arms looped around her body, locking together on the small of her back. “It’s all thanks to you.”

Riza snorted lightly in disbelief. “I doubt that.”

“No, it is,” Roy urged as she tried to pull away. His grip tightened and Roy held her in place. “You’ve pushed me to keep going. Plus, now we have baby number two on the way, we have to get a bigger place, so this is the perfect excuse,” he winked. Roy chuckled as Riza swatted his arm, making him loosen his hold on her waist.

“What happened with Scar, by the way?” she enquired.

“He’s still on the loose. He’s far too fast for us to catch but at the moment, the threat has passed.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“Always am,” he reassured her with a grin. Riza promptly rolled her eyes at him. Says the man that fell off her roof while trying to impress her.

But still… Riza bit her lip. She knew Scar was an Ishvalan man. Roy had expressed his strong desire not to use alchemy against him, not after what he did. Riza reasoned that he had to protect himself. He had a whole country depending on him. Once Roy started making moves with the changes he wanted to see in the world, the Amestrian people would need him. He couldn’t get himself killed with the first step he took.

“Did you use your alchemy against him?”

There was a pause which caused Riza to glance at him. Roy’s gaze was off to the side as he answered.

“No.”

Riza felt relief wash over her. “How come?”

“It was raining all day.”

Riza blinked at him, then burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. A memory from their past came to her mind unbidden, and it always amused her thoroughly. It involved smug Roy trying to show off and some petrol. He’d been trying to get the old barbeque they had going in the damp, wet air. It wasn’t working, so Genius Roy, with all of his fifteen years of wisdom, thought that pouring a few drops of petrol on the barbeque would get it going. It did. The inferno claimed his eyebrows. Riza had to draw them on for days after so her father wouldn’t find out.

She’d never laughed so much in her childhood before.

“It’s not funny,” he glared.

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t laughing at that,” she giggled, trying to calm herself down.

Roy moved to sulk on the couch instead. He placed his face on two closed fists, his elbows resting on his knees. Mia was lost in her own world as she played with her toys on the rug in front of them.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I was.”

“Before you say it,” Roy interrupted her. “I’m not useless,” he spat out, the word obviously leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“I bet you didn’t even realise it was raining that day, did you?” Riza grinned from behind the couch. She perched on the back of it, running her hand through his hair. There was a soft sigh from Roy, and it made Riza’s smile grow.

“No,” he muttered sullenly. “Listen,” he jumped in, his spine straightening. “When you’re faced with a serial killer, you’d have bigger things to worry about than the weather, all right?”

“Not when it affects my ability to use alchemy, the only way to defend myself,” Riza retorted. His defensive argument was a strong one, however he could have been killed when fighting Scar that day. That was the reality of it. Riza tried to let it go. She exhaled slowly and quietly, letting that anxious energy drain out of her. He was fine. He was alive. He was still breathing, and his heart was still beating.

He was okay.

Roy huffed, returning to his sulk. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

“Daddy?” Mia asked, not looking up from playing with her toys. Her brow was furrowed as she still played, confused about something.

“Yes, Mia?” he asked. His mood perked up as soon as their daughter called him. It made the smile return to Riza’s face.

“What’s a serial killer?”

Riza snickered as Roy stiffened underneath her hand. She patted his head twice then bent at the waist to whisper in his ear. “I’ll let you deal with this one,” she stated, oh so kindly. Their daughter had quite the inquisitive streak and was a sponge – she picked up everything.

“Gee, thanks,” he deadpanned.

“Dinner will be ready shortly Mia, okay?” Riza called during her retreat to their kitchen.

“Okay Mummy,” she called as she clambered up onto her father’s lap.

“Make sure all your toys are tidied up, okay?”

“Yes Mummy,” she replied dutifully.

“Thank you, Mia.”

Riza smiled and left the two of them to their lesson, snickering at the thought of Roy explaining to their five-year-old what a serial killer was. In all honesty, she shouldn’t know, but Mia would never let things go. If they put it off, she’d just ask again and again until she got her answer. Or worse, she’d ask someone else, stating she heard her parents talking about it. That had happened before, and it was an awkward conversation with the adult afterwards.

Ten minutes after their impromptu lesson began, Roy entered the kitchen alone and kissed her cheek in greeting.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.”

“Are you talking about me, or our child?” Riza asked dryly. “Choose wisely.”

“Um… None?” he squeaked with a forced grin. Riza rolled her eyes, and the forced smile on Roy’s face fell, leaving a real one in its place. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it was you who saved me with Scar.”

Riza scoffed. “Hardly.”

“No, you did. Honestly. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.” He stopped for a moment, tilted his head then smiled softly. “Watching out for me even when you’re not by my side,” Roy grinned. “I knew I married you for a reason.”

“To stop you from inadvertently getting yourself killed?” Riza asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Something like that,” Roy smiled, angling his head to kiss her temple.

“I believe Maes calls your ability to still find yourself alive “sheer dumb luck”. Emphasis on the dumb.”

“Well, Maes is always talking out of his ass.”

“Daddy?” Mia piped up suddenly, appearing in the doorway. “What’s an ass –”

“Oh! Mia!” Riza announced quickly and loudly, distracting their daughter with her food. “Dinner is ready! Daddy will help you into your chair.”

Mia grinned and ran over to him, holding her arms up in the air, signalling she wanted up. It was like she was two years old again.

Riza shot him a pointed look that said, “no more swearing in front of the kid.” The last thing Riza needed was for her to repeat that. Hopefully, she’d caught it early enough that Mia had already forgotten all about it.

“So… Central?” Riza stated as they retired to the living room for the night.

“Are you all right with that?” he asked, an undercurrent of uncertainty in her tone.

Riza nodded. “Of course.”

“I just knew it meant you’d be able to pursue your career and Central would give you so many more opportunities to do that than being here does.” From his tone it was clear he’d already built up a case to try and persuade her, but there was no need. She was already ready to go. It was the packing up of all Mia’s toys that would be the nightmare part of it.

“Roy, I’m ready. This is a step in the right direction for you.”

“But it’s your life too,” he stressed, turning to face her. “I can’t just assume you’ll uproot your life just for me.”

Riza smiled and cupped his cheek. “You’re sweet. But don’t worry. I already told you I had something lined up in Central for this year and you’re also my husband,” she stated, as if it were obvious. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

That seemed to settle some of his fears and his nervousness. His shoulders sagged in relief.

Riza wondered if he was like this every day at work. He seemed to be calm, cool, and collected in front of his colleagues at the ball, but when it came to her he was always uncertain and sure she was going to turn and run away from him at a moment’s notice. It may not be intentional, but that was the vibe he gave off to her. Riza wasn’t worried about it, per se, but she’d married him, and loved him with all her heart. He owned it completely. What else could she do to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere?

“There’s nothing to worry about on my part. And Central will be good for us. Plus, Maes and Gracia are there too, so we’ll be able to see them more often.”

“Oh no.”

“What?” His tone was filled with dread, and worry began to pool in Riza’s chest.

“I won’t just get phone calls about his kid and Gracia, I’ll have to deal with it in person.”

Riza rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

“It’s a real problem I suffer with here. I would think as my wife you’d be supportive,” he frowned.

“You’re on your own there, dear,” she smiled sweetly, patting his knee. Before she could remove it, Roy snagged it in his hand. “Okay, so now we need to think about moving,” Riza stated, already planning and making a list of things to do in her head. “We’ll need boxes. I threw out all the ones we brought here with us. I’ve no schoolwork tomorrow and was planning on going to the market with Mia anyway, so I’ll pick something up then.”

“Tell me about it,” Roy requested, immediately after she’d finished her train of thought.

“Excuse me?” she asked, confused by his request. “Tell you about cardboard boxes?”

“Tell me about your typical day. About what you have planned for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Riza stated after a pause, wracking her brain for what she’d decided to do tomorrow. “Tomorrow the market is on in the square from nine o’clock until noon, so I’ll go there with Mia to collect some fresh vegetables for dinner. Then, we’ll probably go to the park and she’ll play on the swings.” Roy grinned. They made that trip a few times a month on the weekends and Mia would be on those swings for hours if they let her. “Then, I’ll nip into town and get a cup of coffee –”

“Where about?” he inquired.

“Robertson’s.”

“The old haunt.” Roy quipped.

“They do a soup that Mia really likes so we’ll have some of that for lunch then head back. At home she’ll play while I look over my schoolwork, then we play until you come home. Except…” She cocked her head in thought. “We’ll nip back to the market as it closes to see if we can get some cardboard boxes from some of the stalls.”

“That sounds genuinely wonderful. I wish I could join you,” he murmured.

“One day,” she smiled. “Or we’ll do it more often when you’ve got the day off.”

“In a perfect world I like to think we’d do that every day.”

“Oh yeah? What do you imagine our lives being like?”

Roy took a deep breath then let it out in a rush, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. “If I never joined the military… I picture us in a house out in the country. Not your father’s one, but something new that we bought ourselves with our own money. We’d have chickens, we’d have a cow and a goat.”

“Just one of each?”

Roy nodded. “Yep. Just one is all we need. There would be a little vegetable plot in the back garden where we’d grow our own… It would be perfect.”

Riza hummed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “That does sound wonderful.”

“However.” He heaved a sigh. “This was the path I chose, so I must follow through with it.”

Riza patted the hand on his thigh. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“How about beside me?” he asked, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “I don’t like the idea of you being behind me.”

“I’m supposed to watch your back, Roy,” she smiled dryly. “I can’t do that from beside you.”

“Then how am I supposed to watch yours, with you behind me?” he queried. “No, beside sounds a lot better, because we’re equals. We look out for each other, and no one is getting put to the back or left behind,” he stated firmly. Riza smiled at his explanation and felt her chest blossom with warmth at his words, along with a little flutter in her stomach.

“That sounds lovely, Roy,” she hummed in agreement.

Silence settled over them, and Riza turned her vision to the future, thinking about how everything was all falling into place conveniently for them. She was loath to damper on the moment for herself, but this seemed too easy. Letting go of her insecurities was easier said than done, but she gave herself a shake anyway. No, she wouldn’t let those fears ruin this lovely moment for herself.

“So, Central, huh?”

“I know,” Roy stated.

“This is a big move.”

Roy nodded. “It will be good for us.”

Riza agreed with him. “Definitely. I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun in the big city,” she joked. “Plus, we’ll be closer to Chris, so she’ll get to see Mia more often.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Roy stated dryly.

“She’s great with Mia,” Riza said, eyeing him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“I meant for Mia. Poor kid must put up with her. At the best of times, it wasn’t fun,” he joked, mock fear on his face.

“She must have done an all right job because you turned out okay,” Riza retorted.

“Just okay?” Roy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Riza felt a mischievous streak overtake her. “Yes. Just “okay”. Below average, but a passing grade.”

Something flashed in his eyes and Riza began to laugh as Roy tickled her mercilessly as a punishment.

“Stop it,” Riza gasped. “You’ll wake Mia up!”

“No, you will wake her up,” he grinned, continuing his torture.

“Roy!”

She was silenced with lips pressed hard against her own. Her laughs and gasps turned into moans as Roy’s hands stayed on her body, but began to stroke it instead, lighting a spark within Riza that only he could put out. She moaned his name as he moved down to her neck.

“That’s a better volume,” he quipped.

Riza pulled at his hair gently, guiding him back up to her lips. “Much better,” she agreed.

* * *

The move to Central happened in a blur. Two days after Roy announced it, and was officially told himself, they were expected to move out of their apartment within the week and head to Central. The military had already allocated Roy a new home in the city, so they were expected to be ready to go.

Talk about military efficiency, Riza had thought sourly, exhausted after cramming her packing time into two days, rather than the weeks she thought she would have. Luckily, they let Roy off work so he could prepare too, so she didn’t have to do it all by herself. It made the hectic and stressful time in her life easier to deal with while he was helping.

Now in Central, Riza barely remembered what happened. The move was over that quick. One morning she woke up in their apartment in East City to a fall asleep in a different one.

Except this wasn’t an apartment. It was a house. Roy had specifically put in a request for them to have a house.

“I wanted to save the trouble of moving again, since the family is growing.” He’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. Riza had been touched that he’d been so thoughtful. “I don’t want to drag Mia through all that chaos again.”

Their five-year-old was surprisingly calm throughout it all. Maybe she could sense how stressed her mother was and kept quiet. Of course, the military expected Roy to check in at Central Headquarters the day they arrived, leaving Riza to unpack. He’d been assured it would only be an hour or so, however four hours later, Riza was worrying about where he’d gotten to. When Roy did eventually return, he was extremely apologetic and had even stopped off at a bakery to pick up a coffee and a pastry for her.

“I promise, I’ll make this up to you,” he’d assured her. He didn’t have to, but Roy was adamant. The look in his eye told her that the “making up” wouldn’t be coming until after they’d retired to bed.

She wasn’t annoyed at him. Her sourness was directed more at the military, which was happening more frequently these days. It didn’t mean that the making up for his prolonged absence wasn’t welcome. Far from it. He’d become more affectionate recently, and Riza accepted it wholeheartedly. She enjoyed every second of it. It made her feel so loved, which she was eternally grateful for every time. Roy had that effect on her.

She couldn’t wait to see what their future held in Central. Despite being exhausted from their move she was thoroughly excited. Their home was perfect. It was large, spacious, and had room for them to grow within its walls. It was military owned, but far from what Riza had expected it would be. In her mind it would be beige walls everywhere, with no character or warmth. Instead, it was an old townhouse that had been taken over for military accommodation, which still harboured the old wood panelling in the hallway and plush carpet throughout the ground floor. It was warm and welcoming, just what she’d always wanted in a home.

Mia adored the large back garden and the first day, she’d stood with her face pressed against the glass of the patio doors, mind boggling at the sight of the expanse of grass before her.

Roy had regaled her with his plans for the space. “We can get a swing,” he had explained, casting his hand over the old oak tree at the corner. “We can tie it around the tree branches and Mia can swing from there. When the little one is old enough, they can join her,” he grinned. “In that corner,” he gestured over to the opposite side of the garden. “I can build a small vegetable patch and we can grow our own.”

Riza glanced up at him and noticed the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke about all of this. She remembered the conversation they’d had about their ideal lives, and how Roy said he wanted a vegetable garden. She smiled up at him, catching the bug for his excitement and turned her attention back to the garden as he showed off the space.

Yeah. Riza couldn’t wait.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #the way it was #i forgot to post this on tumblr lmao #whoops

6 notes · View notes

heartfeltheart · 5 years

Text

Alchemy: Magic Vs. Science

Chapters: 13/25 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Series: Part 1 of 9. Summary: Magic and Science, are they the same or are they completely different? It just takes one person to point out all up and downs. Along with breaking the stereotypes that come up with being a wizard, alchemist and most of all being human. Thank you, @amynchan! D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

“English and Edward’s accented voice.” “Amestrian or another foreign language.” “Written notes.” ‘Thoughts.’ First Name: Informal Last Name: Formal (Or used to annoy others)

Ling looked over his balcony, Lan Fan dutifully by his side. He sighed hopefully, looking down to all of the nobles and courtiers of his country. It was a tight fit, despite being the largest courtyard that his largest palace had to offer, but he wanted to make damned sure that everyone heard his announcement. There could be no excuses. This was a delicate matter, thanks to his great-great-great-great-great.... Well, an emperor long past, anyway. This had to be perfect. He nervously grabbed Lan Fan's hand.

"People of Xing."

Every head popped up, even the servants, noticing that the Emperor had addressed everyone, not just the nobles. 'Good. A good start,' Ling thought hopefully. He caught his breath and started again.

"People of Xing. All of my children. I step forward today with an announcement, with a new decree, and with a confession, all in one." Ling ignored the mumbling of his audience and demanded silence as his fear ebbed away, hand still tightly grasping Lan Fan's. He continued, knowing that he was finally righting a wrong.

"Many centuries ago, my ancestors discovered magic in this empire. At first, they extorted it, but once the villagers learned of it, they grew afraid, and outlawed it, made it taboo, with a sentence of death. This you know well, for every law and history book will tell you. What it WON'T tell you is the rest of that story. It WON'T tell you how, through all of these years, though it is death to all, it is secretly taught to the Emperor and his next of kin. How there is an entire vault full of magical artifacts that I, as your leader, am EXPECTED to use daily for my own protection. But I am not that type of emperor. I am not a liar. I am not a hypocrite. I respect and love my people. I try every day to be fair and firm. So, let it be written, as of today, magic is not taboo! You shall NOT punish those that have it, or I shall have YOU punished! For there is no excuse! You have heard it here, from the mouth of your Emperor!"

"It is my wish to teach the ones with magic in a controlled environment, so that they may learn to harness their powers, to use them for the good of their family and country. I myself will be there when my duties allow, as it is customary that the Emperor learn to control the artifacts in his possession. These people are not to be harmed. They will be frightened, believe this to be some sort of trap. I want you to soothe them. Bring them peace. This is my will. Send out the criers."

-.-

"Magic?"

"What is the Emperor thinking?"

"Mama, what's magic?"

"Please let this be true..."

"The Emperor is looking for every individual that has any magical ability..." A crier announced. Several people from the town began to crowd around him to listen to what was being said. It is rather rare when a crier would come around and for them to announce such a thing, what a wonder. What was being said caused worry to stir up within them? For centuries, there had been a stigma about magic in Xing. More especially so in the rural parts of the country compared to the more populated areas, where time seemed to stay still and nothing seems to progress any forward until something or someone were to come and destroy that sense of normality. Perhaps this time around, this could be a good thing. A good time for the change for once, for it has been too long for this to remain in the dark, in complete fear.

The town matriarch was seen conversing heavily with the next town over's noble, pointing at the crier worriedly, gathering her children to her. When he responded to her, she visibly relaxed, though still seemed a bit disbelieving. As they spoke, she cried, hugging him in relief, then bent down to her children to hold them. Together, they listened intently to the crier.

"If you possess such capability then you are to..."

A good change, indeed.

-.-

Edward leaned against his desk, scanning through the exams of the students of his upcoming class. Out of all the students that took the class, they are the only ones that showed a good balance of knowledge and common sense.

Knowledge and common sense, two factors he looks for in a student. There are several other factors that are needed, but those two are the main ones when considering kids that grew up with a magical sense. What really makes these kids have Edward's nod of approval is their way of answering the important question, 'All is one, one is all'. Knowledge and Common sense is one thing, but to have an understanding of the world around them is whole other issue.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"We met him during the summer, that's him."

"...I saw Professor Snape once pull him by his braid to avoid falling over the moving staircases..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Edward's head snapped up toward the main entrance of his classroom. The door was partially left open, just enough to allow him to hear them and to have someone peak in to see him. Pushing away from the desk and placing the exams on it, he headed over towards the main entrance. The students kept on rambling on about him and about the class.

Edward peaked his head through the partially open and stared down at his chattering students. They seemed to be so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't even notice his presence. The Alchemy teacher reached over and tapped on a shoulder on one of the students, a Hufflepuff by the looks of it. The Hufflepuff turned around to stare up at Edward with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. The other students realized the Hufflepuff's sudden change of behavior and turned around to see the reason for it. The two Gryffindors, one Ravenclaw, and one Slytherin saw the golden-haired Alchemy Teacher who was staring at them with a blank expression.

"All of you are zirdeen minutes late for class." Edward stated before he disappears back into his classroom. The five students glanced around at each other and quickly filed into the classroom with panicked expressions. Second first impressions, not so good.

When the students entered the classroom, they could see that Edward pointing at the desks in the front of the classroom. Said desks had their exams they had taken to even be in that class to begin with. Each student sat in their respective desk which had their exam on them.

"My name is Edward Elric; you are to refer to me as Mr. Elric. Is zat understood?" Edward stated he scratched his chin as he heard that familiar echo of 'yes sir'. "Before ve actually start I have to say this... At any moment, I vill kick you out if you cross a cerdain line. Varnings are giffen, depends on hov much you bized me off zat moment."

Edward voice started to grow harsher and became heavily accent as if to prove his point. The point he wanted to make, it was said loud and clear to the give students. "Is zat undersdood?"

"Yes, sir."

Good." Edward said with a chuckle. His voice went from dark, ominous, and heavily accented to a light-hearted, humorous, and much easier to understand. "Let us talk about the reason all of you took this exam. Vat is your reason to learn Alchemy, lie and you are kicked out."

One by one, like the first class the day previously, each student gave their response to why they took the exam. Edward chuckled when he hears the two fiery-haired Gryffindor's reasons for wanting to learn Alchemy. Perfecting their pranks, good one. As long as they are not played against him or done in his class, then it is fair game on their part. The class of five wanted to comprehend alchemy, to understand it to the smallest tiniest detail. Once that was over with, Edward motioned for them to look through their exams. "I want to go over all of your responses for the second to the last question. All is one, one is all."

-.-

'Another day of introductions.' Edward inwardly thought as he repeated his introduction speech to his new class. He inwardly groaned at the fact that it was only Wednesday and he needed to repeat this for two more times. This class doesn't necessarily have the smarts but they do have common sense. At least it isn't so dull...for now.

-.-

Edward leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest as he listened to a Ravenclaw give out his own explanation what Alchemy is. It was already Thursday and the weekend needed to arrive faster. Thursday class...filled with smart-asses. They reminded him far too much of himself in so many ways that it is annoying him to no end. Especially how the kid kept going on and on how Alchemy is all about magic, not about 'muggle science'.

If only Edward could toss the kid out his window or abandon him in a deserted island for a month. Perhaps that will teach him a thing or two. Or three...four.... five.... infinity.

-.-

"When I vrote this test, I allowed zome leevay for more people to pass... Typically this is something I would not normally do..." Edward drawled out to his last class of the week. He ignored the looks of disbelief the students were giving him. "Considering vith your magical background and different mindzet towards..."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "If Teacher could see me now...she would be kicking my ass..."

-.-

"The first class vas okay, they kept an open mind about Alchemy. Zecond class we mostly talked apout the riddle. The zird class...ugh...vere do I start vith them. The fourth class...smart azess. Today's class, itiots. Zis is vat happens when I play nice..."

Severus was sitting on an armchair while he listened to Edward rant on about his first-week teaching. It was clear that the Golden Blonde had multiple up and downs about teaching, and this is only the beginning for him. A very long beginning.

"There are a few that show promise but I also see some zat have no business in learning Alchemy. Den..."

Severus took out a bottle of firewhiskey from his person and two glasses. "Firewhiskey?"

"Firewhi...vat is that?" Edward stopped mid-rant and gave Severus a questioning look. He saw the Potions Professor hand extended out with a glass filled with what he presumed to be Firewhiskey. "Is that alcohol?"

"Yes."

"Is it strong?"

"Yes."

"...Vill you stop me from doing anything stupid?"

"Maybe."

"Fine. Pass it over here."

-.-

It was a known fact that Roy Mustang was useless in the water.

It was also a known fact that Alexander Armstrong sparkled and bragged about any and everything that he possibly could. Really. Roy considered it a sickness, but with his mouth currently covered by both hands, gloves, firmly placed in his pockets, he really couldn't complain.

"What a wondrous day to be sailing!"

"The wondrous day my..." Roy's eyes went wide when he felt the ship he was currently on shake excessively. 'I hate water...'

Roy glanced over to see Alexander parading around the ship without his coat and shirt. The man was sparkling again. Sparkling! Roy groaned, but naturally, Alex failed to notice. He, instead, was showing off his muscles to the rest of the passengers of the ship.

'If only I had my uniform to make the man stop reacting in such a manner,' Roy silently wished. As it were, the Amestrian Scooby Gang were incognito while heading over to Great Britain. To be more precise, Magical Great Britain. The only issue was that they had to take a ship for the primary part of the trip, while in the guise of a group of college or university friends on a trip. All of this to get in contact with the British Ministry of Magic, all because of the former Fullmetal Alchemist. Führer Grumman had ordered for them to get in contact with the British Ministry of Magic.

"There has to be a form of communication between both parties," he'd ordered. "Or at least, clean up after your charge!"

Typical. It always has to be an Elric causing such ruckus. This should be easy, but no... They have to deal with people that wave around sticks and play truth in a level that should not exist in any way in their eyes.

Roy's eyes went wide and covered his mouth with both hands once more when a particularly large wave hit the boat, rocking it excessively, all while Alex sparkled right in front of him. 'All my suffering to clean up after an Elric. AGAIN. I am going to make him pay...'

-.-

"Finally...I found the library." Edward moaned at the sunlight as he walked into the library with memorized eyes. It was one heck of a view, that was for sure, but as much he wanted to read every single book in here; there was something much more important he needed to do.

"Mr. Elric?"

Edward turned his head towards the direction where he heard his name. He saw an older woman that looked like an underfed vulture. By what Severus had told him that this is Madam Irma Pince, the school's librarian. Someone that is highly possessive and protective of the school's books. "Madam Pince?"

"Professor Snape had informed me that you would be coming here..." Irma stated with clear annoyance in her voice.

Edward mentally will have to ask Severus when he did such a thing, it has been a couple of weeks since he arrived at Hogwarts. "Is dat so... I just found dis place, been very busy."

"Of course..." Irma stated, she pulled out a rolled up parchment from her robes and passed it over to Edward. "This is a list of all the books that are related to Alchemy."

Edward took the parchment, unrolled it, and scanned through them. He recognized the vast majority of the titles on the list from his visit in Diagon Alley. Right next to each title is a note of whether or not the book was checked out or still in the library. To his annoyance, the vast majority of the books that were checked out are the books that he does not approve of. "Great... More work."

Tag List Below:

Permanent Tag List: @runestarchild @princesskitomi @fanfictionpromptsblog @souleateralicestein @vixen-uchiha @okami-knight @legendaryneckjudgestudent @weird-homosapien @justafanwarrior @vivilakitty @ravennightingaleandavatempus @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie @moonwatcher04 @darkshadowguardian @two-faced-biatch @kris-pines04 @mewwitch @edwardhatori @kuroko26 @tall-and-angry @bloody-no-kissu @crazylittlemunchkin @tbehartoo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @melicmusicmagic

#Alchemy Series #Magic vs Science #Au #FMA #HP #HP/FMA #Chapter 13 #crossover #fanfic

5 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 5 years

Text

An In-Spectre Calls || Cassie and Morgan

Set before the potw. Morgan meets Cassie for the first time and asks for some slightly spooky help.

There was something pathetic about drifting through Eye of Newt alone. Around Morgan teenage witches squealed over crystal balls and bundles of sage, handmade fliers for a Tarot Tuesday covered the table, taper candles of every color stared down their wicks at all the fuss, and so many purple spined books gleamed out from the shelves. It was all so curated, so proud, so...much nicer than the mess of wax and leaves around Morgan’s kitchen table where she made her own wares. Even Vera, Vera, could afford gilt labels for her smudge sticks. Bitch. Worst of all was knowing that few self respecting witches dared to roll the dice here. They had other, better outlets to send for. But Morgan had left a chunk of her self respect somewhere around trying to connect with her ancestors through a three dollar slice of birthday cake. And the shame of all this, re-stocking from her own competition, watching teenagers exercise more freedom and skill with their gel pens than she had bothered to muster lately--settled around her like the heaviest of blankets. At least if she was miserable, she was safe. Probably.

And so Morgan lingered, bitterly taking mental notes on packaging and pining over books she would not be able to afford for another month or more (Vera saw right through any cash she tried to conjure, every time). She had almost tortured herself to the point of boredom when she spotted a familiar face.

Oh. Oh no. Was this some kind of cosmic trick? Was that--the pro bono exorcist girl? The moon was still in Capricorn, so that was in her favor, and Friday was her lucky day, but having an expert fall into her lap, or at least someone else’s storefront, was not the kind of gift that generally came her way. Morgan stopped and stared at the girl more than was socially appropriate.

Fuck it.

Morgan marched up to her, wares still in hand, and leaned over as unobtrusively as she could into her line of sight. She smiled brightly, too mystified at the possibility before her to contain herself. “Hi! This might be a really strange thing to say, but you’re--Cassie, right?” She lowered her voice. “Exorcist Cassie? I hear things around town. And the targeted ads in my mailbox are just--well, anyway, I could really use an expert’s help with summoning something. Someone.”

If you couldn’t make your own grave dust store-bought was probably fine. Wincing at the price tag mark-up compared with the last place Cassie stopped at to stock up she scanned the rows of jars and tinctures for the last couple of ingredients that had been trashed in transit. Fresh out of ash and with no way to make the stuff without either looking like a serial killer or setting the smoke alarm off. Although, on second thought considering the place she was staying, whatever weirdness she brought with her was likely only the sixth strangest thing in that hotel. Speaking of, the four-dollar hole in her pocket was still stinging from shelling out for those Cheerios late last night. Next stop had to be for something that had actually seen the inside of an oven. With that thought in mind she guessed her next stop would be finding someplace to eat some point. The Thai place she passed last night seemed like a good bet.

Like most of its sister stores around the country this place might have been full of wishful thinkers, but maybe there were a couple things that could do in a pinch. Either way she was limited on options and she doubted there’d be anywhere else offering anything any different. Stooping down to read the price tag of a jar of black salt that caught her attention she registered another person in the vicinity. Assuming it was the owner stopping by she straightened up from her crouch by the jars to stand at full height and grabbed up a jar, about to ask if she had anything a little more specific when she registered her name being mentioned followed by the familiar hushed tones, exorcist. That caught her attention as she seemed to peer over at her interestedly. She seemed earnest enough. It was the eagerness that surprised her. Word got around fast, real fast. Anywhere else the whole thing, the whole business really, was a clandestine operation. The routine, ‘Hey thanks for your services, but get out and let’s never speak of this again’ followed by a swift exit was the norm. Not here though. Here it was practically encouraged almost.

“Uh, yeah. That would be me,” she nodded uncertainty, eyeing the store inventory she was holding. “A summoning? You mean to, you know, deal with something?” It was easy to get lost in translation so she tried to follow it with a gesture that she hoped implied giving the boot, “then I can check into it, sure.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her luck. A real exorcist. A real, helpful, exorcist. She bounced on her feet, resisting the urge to clap her hands with excitement. “I thought I recognized your face! And, whew, that would have been really embarrassing otherwise, accosting some poor random person with words like ‘exorcist’ and ‘summoning.’” Was she being funny? The image played hilariously in her mind in a terrible sort of way: the total lack of understanding on the stranger’s face, the painfully awkward attempts at saving face. After so many big setbacks, the reach of this stupid, strupid curse, Morgan found herself hard pressed to believe in lucky breaks or happy cooincidences.

(Did that mean her plan was doomed? Oh god, it might be doomed)

“Oh, but, not like--” she mimicked Cassie’s gesture, growing red and speckled with anxiety. Maybe she should have stayed home and brooded over her hot glue gun situation in quiet isolation instead. Sure, her cat would have still given her judgement eyes from her nest in the bookshelf, but that wouldn’t be half so bad as having this blow up in her face. But like a bad piece of gum on your shoe, Morgan stuck and kept talking.

“I mean, I’ll want them, you know,” She gestured again, “Eventually. But first I want to bring something here. After I’ve gotten the information I need, it should probably go back to wherever, I guess, but I need to get someone first.”

If Morgan had only sensed the ghost judging her from behind, she might have appreciated how funny her request already was, Cassie’s help or not.

Cassie tilted her head a little, “right,” she nodded with a small laugh. “Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

She watched as Morgan repeated the gesture, still trying to wrap her head around the request. Okay, so she did mean summoning something, inviting it. It wasn’t totally unheard of, trying to make contact. Mostly for any lingerers that were already there, but actually folding out the welcome mat? That was still a new one, but she still felt that pang of curiosity that something like that would even work, or why anybody would even want it to.

I need to get someone first.

Looks like you already got them, she mused not unkindly, finally acknowledging the second shadow nearby. Cassie hadn’t made eye contact with the figure lurking in the background until then, but when she did it made her stop in her tracks for a second. They were there alright, but weak. Whoever they were, she couldn’t make anything out past the general humanoid shape and occasional incline of their head as they listened in. Like they were stuck in some halfway point. Weird.

They were here, but they weren’t thrilled about it, but what else was new? Cassie gave them a look that she hoped implied later and turned her attention back to Morgan as she weighed up the options. What were the chances here that whatever she said she was going to do it anyway? Pretty high she was willing to bet. Putting the jar back on the shelf decidedly, “you know what...sure,” she agreed. “I mean mostly I’m there pointing out the exit sign, “she admitted, “but can’t hurt to be around. Let you know if you’re getting warmer”, and to step in in the off chance the invisible man back there had any ideas she added after a second glance.

“Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

“Just ‘little white crest things,’ huh?” Morgan replied with a laugh. “I do promise I’m not like this all the time. Sometimes I say things like how are you, and, I don’t know--what nice, normal weather we’re having!”

This was...nice. Almost fun. Morgan began to sweat behind her ears at the thought Fun was the sort of thing she felt she had to trick her way into. Fun was the kind of feeling that hatched big, wild bursts of ‘come and get me while my back is turned you lousy curse’ energy. And, Christ on a cracker, wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? She was talking with Cassie about what amounted to a work thing, not about making friendship bracelets, or going to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Not exactly the stuff of tragedies, even in her own family tree. Could be safe. And if she had managed to shake certain doom for awhile, and since it was doomed to catch up, maybe she should hold it together and enjoy the reprieve. Pretend to be a less disastrous version of herself until later. Hopefully much later. After they found Agnes.

When Cassie agreed to help, Morgan reigned in the impulse to tackle her with relief. “Thank you, so much! You are amazing, and I will compensate you...somehow. I know conjuring money is pretty high on the questionable morality spectrum, but I can also fix things! If it’s in the broken vase category and not the complicated mechanical one, I can definitely fix it. Or with the right material I can make you something really nice. But, again, not too complicated. I’ve spent more time at the archive than my old alchemy books lately, so. And, drinks, or several, burgers even.” Morgan could feel herself running too fast away from her personal disasters. So fast she almost missed what Cassie added, quietly, as not to set any alarms. Invisible man? What?

It shattered Morgan’s loop of thought and made her go rigid. She cast her gaze back, head-turning slowly. What did Cassie mean? Invisible? Was she being followed? Maybe she had triggered something in the universe and now she was going to watch this blow up in her face before she’d even started. This might be how she died--

Morgan looked. Nothing. Not even a shadow. Then again, that might be the whole point of ‘invisible.’ She turned back to Cassie, suddenly feeling like they needed to get somewhere not in the shop. “Um...what do you mean invisible man?” She whispered. “Like...with some kind of glamour? Or--” It came on her so slowly because until now it had seemed laughably impossible. “Do you mean a GHOST?” She squeaked.

“No kidding,” she laughed, “been here a couple days but this place…it’s something else,” she had to admit. Understatement of the new decade, twenty-four hours in and she felt like she had enough for most of her co-workers to have a field day out here. Difference was, for the most part, she had ethics. “Oh hey, no need. I have a day job,” she waved the offers of compensation off, “you’re good.” The day she accepted cash or handouts for this kind of thing would be the day—wait conjuring cash? At some point, she’d have to ask about that-about all of that, but one thing at a time.

Cassie saw the look that crossed Morgan’s expression and frowned for a second in confusion. It was only after the words were out of her mouth that she realized she’d said that last part out loud and immediately felt like backtracking. Shit, way to scare the crap out of them. She could practically see the alarm bells going off in Morgan’s head. Part of her wanted to bluff, tell her she meant as in the general sense but thought better of it. Better not to start off on a lie. It never ended well.

“Okay so, you’ve got one visitor,” she admitted tentatively, “but you’ve got nothing to worry about, they don’t look like much of a threat.” Cassie cast another glance at them as they continued to hover around nearby like a bad smell. Was that an incline of their head at that last comment? “This’d be a very different conversation if there was, trust me.” She hoped that might take a little of the edge off of it. “I’m free today, least I’ve got nothing much planned. I can stop by, deal with the mystery guest over there, try and get contact properly,” figure out if they’re who you’re looking for,” figure out what they wanted and how they even got there like that she added to herself. The longer she looked at the figure the weirder it got. For a second she thought she saw a pair of eyes take shape before they flickered out again. Interesting. “Or if you wanted to wait,” she blinked and brought her attention back to Morgan, “I can hand over some things to keep them out of your hair for a while give you my cell number and you can text me an address or something. Whichever works.” Cassie pulled her cell out from her pocket and opened her bag out to look for what was left her the black salt but came up empty-handed, “crap, the last of it’s in the car,” she murmured and picked the jar of the stuff she was about to buy again and raised her eyebrows at the price tag. Wow, not for forty dollars I’m not. “This stuff keeps them away,” she lifted the jar back up before putting it back down again. “I have some in the car, but regular salt works, just doesn’t last as long.”

“Are you sure?” Morgan pressed. “You’re kind of doing me a big favor…” But Cassie seemed pretty sure of her stance. Morgan couldn’t figure out why. There had to be loads of people who would pay a lot for help like this. Now that the weight of making up for her services was off Morgan’s chest, she could admit she would have pushed her powers to limit to make this happen. Why wouldn’t you try and get something out of the deal?

But Morgan didn’t have time to think about this because of what Cassie said next. You’ve got one visitor. She had really done it. Maybe? Hopefully. “A visitor,” she repeated, dumbfounded. “A ghost kind of visitor, following me around.” What if it was Agnes? Or one of Agnes’ children? Morgan looked back over her shoulder again, just in case willpower alone could bring it into her sight and understanding. When looked back at Cassie, her face was glowing with held back excitement.

“I need to find out who it is,” she said quietly. “In case it’s who I’m looking for. But the other stuff would be good too. This maybe-kind-of isn’t my first time trying this, just the first time that it’s worked.” She looked at the salt jar Cassie Hefted and made a mental note to up her game in that area. Forty dollars for a little jar. Maybe she should start charging more for her candles; this family quest was getting expensive. “I’d like to see the kind of salt you roll with,” she added lightly. “I’ve been using mom’s old kosher salt, but that was before I knew I should be upgrading. What’s in your mix that makes it different? And, would it be unprofessional if I hugged you right now?”

“Just the one,” Cassie repeated as if that would somehow make it any better. “They’re hard to make out though, which means either they’re weaker, like they’re new or they’re on the out.” Another glance towards the mystery figure and she was sure she picked up the indignation coming off from their stance alone. “Okay. If I can get some stuff from the car, find somewhere quiet I can try and get a read on them. Figure out if this is your guy.” Cassie’s eyes followed Morgan’s gaze back to the discarded jar, “it’s different for everybody, but I like a mix. A little rock salt-any salt really-” she added quickly on review, “some chalk and some Obit ashes mixed in there. Helps with the ‘ashes to ashes part’ it’s not the main focus though. The main part is the words and the intent that’s there." Morgan seemed so enthusiastic and hopeful, she hoped she wasn’t setting her up for a loss. She could do it, hazy figure aside, but actually summoning something was still out of her wheelhouse. She just hoped she wasn’t about to be a let down. Cassie thought for a moment before answering, “maybe save it for when we actually ID your friend, or at least get some contact on line one.”

Morgan took out her phone and made notes as Cassie explained her salt recipe. There was a cemetery near the Traveler’s Rest, should be easy to come by the ashes. She didn’t trust her alchemy-brewed stuff to do the trick, not when it came to warding off whatever had come out of that cake. Morgan didn’t know much about what she was getting into, but she was aware she had passed the ‘in over your head’ signpost few miles behind packing up her life and moving to White Crest.

She settled for a thumbs up at Cassie instead of the hug. “Too soon, got it,” she said, laughing it off. “But it’s not about the success. I mean, success would be great, obviously, but I’ve been at this--for good reason!--for three years now, and this is the first time I’ve gotten, like, help from anyone. Even if you have to go back to your very expert drawing board, I’m still appreciative. Really.” Something in her sombered at the truth in those words, three years banging her head against her laptop, three years trying to get out of bed, trying not to derail her life anymore than this stupid curse already had. Three years and now she was at the zero hour. Of course she was grateful for even the illusion of progress. What did she have left to lose this year except her life anyway? Her shitty jobs? But that wasn’t the right mindset. Think positive. Move forward. She pepped herself up and headed for the door. “So! Let’s go figure this out!”

Mulling over what Morgan had said. About this being the first time anybody had offered some actual help rankled a little. If you could kick them out it stood to reason there was a way to call them up. It might actually be useful for a few things. Maybe if they were lucky whoever she was trying to get hold of was actually still around, strange as that was to say considering, they could actually make contact. “Three years?” Cassie felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at that information. “Well, least you’ve got it now, the help I mean. If at first you don’t succeed get mad and try again,” she joked. Even if this didn’t go down well first time around, she had a more than a little healthy curiosity at the idea of something like that actually working. “You must really need this guy for something.” Not about to pry, but you didn’t spend that time trying over something trivial. Following Morgan’s lead and heading outside and back out towards where her car was parked Cassie took out her keys and grabbed the duffle bag out from the trunk and draped it over one shoulder. She shifted the weight a little and used her free hand and lifted up a piece of the padding covering the spare tyre space. “One second. I just need a couple things.” Cassie grabbed up a few loose items and stuffed them inside the bag, “this might help identify Mr Mysterio. Get a better signal and figure out if this is your guy.” Closing the trunk over again she turning back to Morgan with a smile. “Okay, and we’re all set. Lead the way.”

“L-lead the way,” Morgan repeated, hoping that repetition would rattle something into place. “To the ghost place, that--would make sense.” She began to walk in the general direction of the traveler’s rest. “But, it’s really interesting you should say that. Because, there’s my room at the Traveler’s Rest where I do most things right now, and there’s Al’s where I did the spell. Or I think I did.” Her cheeks were growing hot again. This had all seemed reasonable, even expected in the moment, but preparing to say it out loud, she suddenly felt like an idiot. “I’m working from scratch with this, but there was a spell on google that seemed to have a familiar structure to it, and I picked the right day, I checked the moon, and all that for maximum potency. But, there might have been...cake involved. And admittedly, that seemed like an interesting ask for a request from the beyond. I don’t know if I should take you to the spot where it happened, or if we just need to duck into my room so the muggles won’t stare at us since they’re supposed to be drawn to me and not the place?” Her voice rose higher as she spoke, struggling to maintain the very logical order of planning she had taken the trouble of going to. “Anyways, it’s...all the same direction. Just a little more--this way. And I can pull up the spell, if that helps.”

“That’s where I live-well, I don’t live there. I’m staying there, or I have a room there anyway.” Cassie wasn’t staying here she reminded herself. It was temporary like everywhere else. “That works,” she looked back over at Morgan with a nod, “or if you wanted somewhere more out in the open, there’s Al’s.” That one was the least favourite option. She hated an audience to this stuff. Growing up it was something to be buried away, not broadcast in public. It was hard to get out of that way of thinking. Old habits died hard that way. “Not sure what the rules are for summoning ghosts in the diner though. Might be a no shirt, no shoes, ghosts, no service,” she joked. Cake? Wait, how did cake figure into it? Okay, that was a question for a little later. Not the time. There was her least favourite word in this kind of context; Google. Hypocritical as that was, she’d done the same thing back before she put her foot down with her parents and got someone that actually knew what they were doing to step in. Ray was a cantankerous jerk that first day, but he knew his stuff. Saved her getting fried anyway. “Google kind of sucks for anything with ghosts. First removal invocation I looked up there had a chunk of it missing,” she admitted. “I was twenty-two and stupid,” she made a brief grimace, “good thing I asked somebody else or I wouldn’t be talking to you. Looks like something might’ve worked, don’t think your friend has been hanging around here all that long. What did this spell on google look like?” Cassie asked, curious now. Maybe it was some sort of banishment circle gone wrong, like they’d copied it wrong, got the opposite effect. Who knew at this point.

“Yeah, I guess it’s hard to call that living, huh?” Morgan said. “Home-sweet-not-home it is.” They continued the journey together, and Morgan told her everything she could about the spell. She had recognized one of the sigls as something she’d seen in an invocation book. She couldn’t remember what the book had said it was for exactly, but the sighting had given her hope. The plan had been to harness the energy of familiarity to reach out to other spirits who had that energy in common. So, her birthday, the land where the people she was looking for had lived, and a birthday cake, which commemorated the continuation of her family. A little fire, a few words, a little saliva to create a taste of life and boom, call made, familial tether climbed, ancestors summoned. She hadn’t noticed or felt anything different at the time. She had assumed she had done something wrong, or supernatural google wasn’t quite on par with her needs as she’d hoped. She showed Cassie a screenshot and went on. She was trying to get in touch with some ancestors. She had some unfinished business with them, funny, right? Only her magical department wasn’t so much in parting the veils or whatever as it was turning stuff into different stuff. As they neared the Traveler’s Rest, she fished around in her pocket for her old set of keys. She plopped them onto her pop socket and gestured. The keys shaped themselves into a metal cuff, a robot figurine. She made it float before coaxing the metal back into keys again. “Neat, right?”

Morgan’s things were splayed all over her room, two large suitcases worth, seemingly made larger by the cramped space. Morgan cleared a spot in the middle of the floor. “I have some Arizona Tea in the mini fridge if you want any. But why not first things first? How do we talk to my visitor friend?”

They were keys. They were keys and then they weren’t and then they were in the air. Then they were keys again and that’s the moment life stopped making sense for a second.

Neat, right?

That was one word for it. Cassie couldn’t even nod, just stood there in stunned silence and stared at the keys in Morgan’s hand as she opened the door out and stepped inside. Talking about that kind of thing was once thing, but seeing it in front of her? Whole different ball game. “…Sounds-sounds, yeah,” she found herself saying, her voice sounding a little far away. Reality snapped back again with a bang and she remembered what she was even there for. Right, focus. The way Morgan had been talking and judging from the picture she saw it sounded more and more like a variation of a banishment circle. An inverted one maybe. First thing was first, making contact.

“Oh, that part’s easy,” right, get it together. The solution to that particular snag was simple. “One second,” Cassie dug out a pen and a scrap of paper and scrawled down the alphabet and placed it on the nearest flat surface she could find. “Just needed some quiet first.��

Thank you Stranger Things, Cassie stepped back and addressed the mystery guest, “if you want to just point to tell me what your-” she didn’t get to finish that sentence before the figure darted to the paper and the pen laying beside it. They jabbed their hand in an attempt to move the Biro and watched as they seemed to grow frustrated in their attempts. Wow, they really were weak. Usually most ghosts could conjure up just enough energy to move a biro a couple centimetre across a page for all of ten seconds. “Or, if you want, you can just point. If it’s easier,” seemed they took that as a challenge and the pen started to shift, “…Okay,” she gestured, giving the go-ahead and waited as they pointed over to each letter.

W.A.N.T….F.R...

Cassie turned back to Morgan once she figured out the gist of it. “They want to know what you want,” when they started up again.

L.E.T.G.O

Oh. Fuck. Morgan took all of her attempts to get in touch with the dead very seriously, it was kind of a matter of life and death at this point, but whatever she had hoped for at the end of each attempt, it didn’t look anything like this. Cassie was sitting with a freaking piece of paper from a notebook and a ballpoint pen, nothing special or consecrated, just practical. And it was moving. Moving all by itself. It was shaking, like the hand holding it was too upset or too weak to hold it together properly. Morgan shifted away from it on the floor. Seeing this invisible force want things, demand things, show--feeling made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to unpack. Wasn’t that what they had always been? And what did it really change about what she needed anyway?

“Um, okay,” she breathed, keeping her voice steady with effort. “That’s nice. Good to know. Sorry you’ve been...here, for so long. But I am going to need some information from you first before we can do that. Okay?” She squared her shoulders back and tried to adopt the kind of voice she used on her freshmen college students. “Now, who are you? What’s your name?”

Watching Morgan move away from the sheet of paper as though it was contagious Cassie realised, she had forgotten how this kind of thing might look to an outsider. What was grade school stuff to her was the stuff of nightmares to somebody else. She recognised that weird waxy looking shade Morgan had paled to and Should’ve just asked them to point. Tell, don’t show this time.

Cassie offered Morgan a look of encouragement as the mystery guest responded, Floor’s all your,s and looked over to their guest who listened and inclined their head as if they were studying her. They folded their arms over for a few moments before answering as thought they were a few moments away from doing the opposite and b an ass. Cassie shot them a look and looked at Morgan again then as the pen began to move again. A lot less stable than before as they slowly spelled the words out.

S.E.A.N…B.A.C.H.M.A.N

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. They had a name. “This your guy?” Cassie asked. She still didn’t understand what she did, but recognising that whatever it was it had worked somehow.

...E.T....G.O…C.A.L.L.E.D…H.E.R.E…..A.P.O.L.O.G.I.Z

Cassie frowned at that last message and now it was her turn to look at the figure, Sean, she corrected herself, her head inclining.

“Ooh! Sean! You’re Agnes’ nephew, right? Your dad was named Abel?” Not who Morgan was looking for, not even close, and she shook her head at Cassie in a sheepish universal signal of ‘close but no cigar.’ Still, she felt an electric rush of excitement. This was more direct contact than she’d gotten...ever. Ever-ever. The rest of his message was a lot more puzzling. Who was apologizing? Sean hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that she’d dug up yet. “We’ll get to that Sean, but I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt? If she...kept a secret book of magic maybe? Or if you saw her, or heard maybe…” Fuck it. “If you heard of her doing something bad enough that might make someone curse our whole family?” She felt cold all over and out of breath just from asking. She’d been nosing around ancestry sites and state records for so long, she had picked up her whole life, she had pestered Cassie in the middle of a shop, all for this, all without putting her finger on the big, awful magic button of a reason. And having to ask it out loud now, even in the most common sense of ways frustrated Morgan. It was a reminder that there was a chance the answer might be no. Maybe the afterlife had turned Sean’s memory to custard, or he just hadn’t been the kind of kid to overhear rumor. “Anything, Sean?” She pressed. “Be honest.”

Success? Cassie looked over expectantly and clocked the expression on Morgan’s face and felt her shoulders slump slightly. No, crap. That had to sting. So close, she actually had somebody here and judging by the look that passed her features they’d missed the mark by a few miles.

I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt?

Y.E.S

The pen continued to move and while Cassie had next to zero to compare this it seemed like who Morgan had got hold sounded like they were a family member. Close, right? Cassie sat back and kept watch and listened as Morgan reached out to Sean. Her eyes darted up again at Morgan’s words at the end there. Eyebrows raised in concern. Cursed?

…O.W…D.A.R.E...

“Just answer the question and you can be on your way. Come on, man.” It was round about then that Sean decided to have a temper tantrum and managed to tear the paper a few centimetres in his answer. It seemed to take it out of him. She saw him fade further and stop .“I think he wore himself out with that one.” It was a while before he summoned up the energy to fade back to view again.

…T.E.L.L….Y.O.U….N.O.T.H.I

The light on one of the bedside tables clinked and the TV switched on and off for a second at that outburst.

….R.E.L.E.A.S.E….ME…

What a baby. “Spooky. Very good,” Cassie shook her head and spoke in a deadpan tone. “I know you’re pissed but don’t be an ass, Sean, or we’re going to have a problem.”

Morgan clenched her fists in her lap to keep from shaking. This was getting very real, very quickly, and somehow not at all fulfilling in the way she’d hoped. The paper was making noises all by itself, and it was one thing to look away from the screen when things started getting weird in The Conjuring, but something else entirely when the jump scare was right in front of your face. There was nowhere to go from this. Morgan looked behind her and saw the TV flickering, like some five year old on a sugar high was going crazy with the switch, and the tables were rattling louder without anyone being there. Morgan’s eyes had been stretched open long enough to tear up. She was sure if she closed them she’d make up some excuse for what she was seeing, she’d try to tell herself that this was wrong and definitely impossible. But the only thing scarier than seeing this happen, was to never see it happen. Fuck.

“Sean, you asshole! Cut it out!” She screamed over the noise. “You tell me what you know!”

But Sean was not remotely interested. Morgan felt down in her pocket to the salt stash she had and threw it near the paper.

“You wanna stay here forever, Sean?” She asked. “Because I don’t give a shit if you’re stuck with me forever, okay! You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already!”

Cassie shot Sean’s general figure an exasperated look and turned to Morgan and frowned in confusion. Where was he getting this idea he wasn’t free to go here? She really wasn’t about to enlighten them any time soon. Looking at Morgan just as the ‘I want to speak to the manager theatrics’ flared up again she saw Morgan glance around looking rattled. Crap. She knew that look. Cassie saw the clenched fists and shot her a worried look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cassie reached over but paused when she realised then that it wasn’t all fear there. There was some anger bubbling under the surface and stopped, sitting back down beside the paper. “Just some grade school level theatrics. He couldn’t blow the fuse on a lightbulb,” Cassie shot Sean a glare. Was it really so hard for the douche to just give Morgan what she wanted so they could just drop kick him back to the beyond like he wanted here? “And if you do, I’m going to have some words you’re not going to like.” Turned out the reassurance really wasn’t needed here. Morgan was holding her own. More than; she was outright making demands, tossing salt she didn’t even remember she had on her at the paper. Fast learner.

You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already

“What she said,” Cassie shrugged and looked for a second at the salt Morgan had just tossed in Sean’s general direction, “and if she thinks about throwing any more of that there’s not a damn thing I’m doing to do to stop her. I’ll tell her where to aim. Your call.”

S.K….C.O.N.S.T.A.N.C.E…L.E.A.V.E….M.E

The pen moved, with urgency then, spelling out a name. Now, that wasn’t to hard, was it?

Morgan came back to herself with Cassie’s agreement, what she said. Oh. Shit. She’d really let loose there. Threatened her ancestor, even if he was kind of a dick, wasted some salt aiming at whichever part of the air had looked most threatening. Cassie, for her part, didn’t seem too upset about her seasoning the ghost, and Morgan didn’t know what to make of that, except that she would have to explain a lot more about her situation than she’d had to in a long time. But that could wait. Hopefully. Sean was telling them about...someone named Constance. Morgan couldn’t remember how she fit into her family story off the top of her head. Was she Constance’s mother? Her daughter? It was right on the edge of her recall, but she couldn’t reach it. But it was better than nothing.

“Fine,” she said flatly. “Fine, go.” She still had some salt in her hand and threw it again. “Fuck you anyway, though. And tell Constance I’m coming for her.” She turned to Cassie for help, holding her sweater close around her chest, flushed with embarrassment.

Cassie watched as Morgan threw the remainder of salt in her hand towards the paper again, but something strange happened in the seconds before the salt even went airborne. Cassie didn’t get the chance to even start to send him away. There second Morgan uttered the word go the ghost that was formerly known as Sean zapped out like an old television. Blipped back to the void as if being pulled back somewhere. “That was new,” was all she could manage then with raised eyebrows. “He’s already gone,” she clarified, shaking herself out of it. What the hell was that?

“Okay,” she spoke again eventually as the quiet descended. “I have no idea what you did,” she admitted, still processing, “but that’s uh, that’s different.” Understatement, the air shifted, she felt that much. Swore she heard a faint popping sound as they went. “Did you get what you wanted? Sort of anyway? A name is a start, right?” Cassie shifted back and let out a breath. “So, um, walk me through what you did here, with the circle. Maybe we can get somebody else.”

Morgan flopped back on the floor when Cassie said he was gone. She didn’t know how she could tell, and without anything to tell by she almost didn’t believe it. This...this was good, right? This was progress...in that it was more ghost she’d spoken to in her whole life, certainly more than she had gotten out of any of her magic experiments. She would have to find out who Constance was, what she had to with all this. Agnes had been the one everyone talked about, but maybe she was just the baby monster. Oh god, if this was going to turn into a Grendel’s Mother situation-- Morgan put her head in her hands and breathed out long and hard. One thing at a time. “I um...I can send you the stuff. I have the webpage saved, but I don’t know if I can do it again, without some meaningful date and a new moon, or maybe not, maybe that was bullshit…” she was mumbling, half in a daze, as she pawed around the messy floor for her computer. She pulled it up and sent it to Cassie’s account on the town social media network. Handy, that. She stood up and dusted off a whole lot of nothing off her jeans. “I got something alright!” She said, scrambling to put her smile back on. “Thank you for helping on short notice. You’re really nice, and I’ll find a way to make it up somehow. Maybe when, um, the adrenaline is a little, uh, less, we can figure something out.” Or not. Cassie seemed like she might make a good shortcut through the mess, but she might also be fast-tracking herself into the danger zone. But if it meant not running from herself anymore, maybe it would be worth it anyway.

#an in spectre calls #wr cassie #wr chatzy #wr cassie chatzy #//ghost stufff!!!!

7 notes · View notes

aliceslantern · 5 years

Text

Beyond This Existence: Counterpoint, chapter 16

Summary: After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

---

The air was so dreadfully cold.

Ienzo looked down at his trembling palms. The light had a strange, bluish quality to it. He could see his breath.

He was not in his room, or anywhere in the castle he could recognize. The ground beneath him was dry, and grassy. The nighttime sky held no stars. He tried to sit up, but his body was so heavy, so unwieldy. He was so unbelievably tired. Near his face, an illumina plant was dying, its pale violet light choked by browning petals.

Ienzo pushed himself up. His head throbbed.

Back inside of his own mind.

He stood, but a wave of weakness forced him back down on his knees. He reached for the lexicon, seeking desperately whatever scant guidance he might receive, but there was nothing. An eerie, windless silence.

He was so tired.

Ienzo took a few deep breaths and tried to shake the exhaustion. Inch by inch, he stood and was able to remain on his feet, though vertigo flooded him.

“Easy,” said a voice. Ienzo’s heart ached.

He looked up and saw Demyx. “What…” He croaked. “No, you’re supposed to be out there.”

He looked a bit sheepish. “I--well, he, is.”

Ienzo exhaled. “You’re an illusion.”

“Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“I don’t have the energy for this,” Ienzo said. “He’s alright?”

Not-Demyx shrugged. “I think. I only know what you know.” The illusion offered a hand. Ienzo took it.

“Things are quite bad, aren’t they,” Ienzo whispered.

“Uh… yeah,” he said nervously. “Yeah, I’m sort of here to deliver a message. I could be someone else, if that makes you more comfortable. I figured he’d be the most comforting.”

“You’re my will?”

“Like I said. It’s complicated.”

Ienzo swallowed. He felt a lump rising painfully in his throat. “What is the message?”

The will sighed. Uncanny, how down-pat it had Demyx’s mannerisms; then again, it was drawing from his own observations. “You’re… dying,” he said. “Right now, in this moment. You wore me down to nothing. All that pain. We always pushed ourself too hard, but we never saw consequences. Well, here’s the consequence. You’ve got a choice to make.”

“Choice?”

“You can wake up. Or you can go on.”

"What is the price?"

The will bit its lip. "You have to come to terms with your past. Fully. You have to let go of the guilt."

"How is that a price? That's something I've tried to surmount since I woke."

The will took his hands. They were warm. "You have to let go of the pain you've taken. Listen to them. Humanize them. You carry the memory even now. Considering how weak you made me, holding onto it is too much.”

“I’m so very tired.” Even in this place things seemed hazy and insubstantial. “I do want to live. I need to live.”

The will touched his face. “Then it’s time to go to sleep.”

There was no transition. He blinked and all of a sudden he was in the basement. It was still new, still undestroyed. The air smelled fresh, utterly devoid of the darkness that would take over.

There was nothing here.

He walked slowly through the space, tracing his fingers over the numberplates. In the early days the cells looked less like prisons, more like merely an uncomfortable place to stay; beds made neatly with patterned blankets, modesty screens in front of the toilets, even small vases of flowers. The subjects would only stay overnight, if at all.

He took a small step into the room. His body felt so dreadfully heavy, so very weak. Each step exhausted him. He sat on the small, hard bed and crossed his arms tightly. How much more deeply into sleep could Ienzo go? He let himself lay down and imagined how it might feel for the door to close. Eventually, they’d replaced the pocket doors with steel ones as the situation devolved.

It made a strange sort of sense. In a way, he was part of the experiments, too.

He forced himself to stand and with trembling hands forced the door shut.

A prison of symbolism.

The act so exhausted him that he sat right on the floor, his head rolling against the mattress. Memory breathed all around him. Mother reading him a bedtime story, smelling like rose and powder, then her astonishment when he took the book from her and started reading it back. Words and numbers always made sense, had been clear from the first day somebody had read to him. As a toddler, he’d sneak out of bed into the study to read their grown-up texts, delicious works about sociology and botany, history and literature, everything soaking into his mind effortlessly. It was a new hunger, a lovely one.

But while this came effortlessly, there were other things that did not. Crowds overwhelmed him, as did certain textures or smells, all of his senses so sharp . They’d taken him to healers, doctors to manage this stress, but there was not much to be done. It was his nature.

Their death worsened things. The moments were strange and cauterized. He was in a bed in a large room, bandages pulled itchily across his torso.

“...I’ve looked. There’s no other family.”

“I’ve given it some thought. His parents wished to be apprentices. I think they would consider it a great comfort if we were to educate the boy.”

“Master, I implore you to reconsider. This is not a place for a child. How can we possibly provide the sort of nurturing environment a boy that young needs? He’ll need counseling, surely, as well as the opportunity to make friends--”

“Even, you sensed it too. That boy--Ienzo--he is special. He’ll have different needs, more expansive needs, than the average child. I feel he is capable of tremendous good.”

The words swam around him. The room around him started to decay, to rot, the flowers and patterns replaced with stiff wool and blankness. The air grew smoky. He could feel a weight in his chest, solid and aching, and he shivered.

More voices.

“...What risk does such darkness pose to us? So long as we keep it contained. They’ve consented. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Ordinarily I would agree, Even. But the townspeople are starting to ask Aeleus and I questions. Apparently at night… they can hear screaming.”

“Hogwash.”

Against the thin walls of Ienzo’s memory, the shrieks battered. Voices of all genders, all ages. Asking for help. Asking for their mothers. Cursing them. Laughing mad.

“Look at what it does to the cells! It’s a perfect transmutation. An alchemy.”

“It looks hungry. Like it’s eating.”

“I suppose it does, Ienzo. That’s very apt. See how the nature changes, when balance is upended?”

“...Master said breaking the balance is unnatural.”

“...I know you miss him, Ienzo, but it’s for the best he’s gone.”

The weight was tightening. Worsening.

“Dilan, I will not stand for this. He is too young to consent.”

“We’ve treated Ienzo with respect. I think he deserves a say. It’s only fair. He is different than the average child. I think it would make the data quite fascinating.”

“I will not allow it.”

“...You’ve grown too soft for the boy.”

Nightmares; then and now.

“Even--”

“It’s alright, Ienzo. It was only a dream.”

“I can hear them. Screaming. It has to stop--”

“All right. All right.”

“We’re hurting them.”

“They’re doing this for science, Ienzo. For the greater good.”

“Make it stop!”

He could not breathe. Pain echoed and exploded in the small room. The cries, the slithering feeling of darkness.

Let go of it.

“Make it stop.”

Let go.

“Stop…”

It’s yours, too. You’re connected.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There was weight in his arms. He looked down. He picked up the sleeping child slowly, so as not to wake him. Ienzo tucked him in, brushed the gray hair from his eyes. Kissed him on the forehead. “It’s alright,” he said. “You’ll wake soon.”

With a newfound lightness he opened the door, and left the room.

---

He thought he heard music.

Soft at first, it broke through his dark and quiet dreams, laying against him like a blanket. Gradually it became more complex, more complicated, soaring through long runs of notes, becoming louder and then softer again. Repeating. Endlessly. The melody was eerie and the instrument familiar but unplaceable.

Ienzo just wanted to sleep.

The music would resume, would change and shift and continue. It made him feel warm, comforted. Held.

After an unknowable amount of time, he woke. Snow fell outside in a thick sheet. The room was suffused with light, and very cold.

The sudden silence was all he could comprehend at first. Ienzo blinked. His body seemed so weighty.

“Ienzo?”

He struggled to sit up, his core complaining. Finally he managed it, propping himself on one shaky elbow.

There Demyx was. He was cradling Arpeggio, a blanket tucked around his shoulders. Something about him looked different; Ienzo could not tell if it was something peculiar about his own vision or not. No, there were very definite changes. His hair was more brown than blonde, and a touch longer, brushing his shoulder in the back. His eyes were more green than teal. That, and he simply felt more present, more real.

“Hey,” he said softly. He let Arpeggio fade. “Hey there. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Ienzo tried to speak. His throat was dry and scratchy from disuse.

“Ah--here,” Demyx said. He went and poured a glass of water, then handed it to Ienzo. “Take it easy. Baby steps.” He checked Ienzo’s pulse, his temperature. The second-nature way he did this made Ienzo suspect that had been a lot longer than a few days.

Ienzo took a few sips. His voice was hoarse. “I heard you,” he said.

“You mean Arpeggio?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you didn’t always like to listen to me--”

“No, it was perfect.”

“I thought it might maybe help you find your way back.”

“I think it did.”

A beat of silence. Demyx couldn’t take his eyes off him. His hands were warm when he took Ienzo’s.

“It’s been a long time,” Ienzo said.

“About a month and a half. Was pretty touch-and-go for a while,” Demyx admitted. “Your EKG activity has been wild. We knew you would wake up, but it was just a question of-- well, when .”

“You’ve been taking care of me.”

“Helping,” he said. “It… makes me feel less, well, helpless.”

“You’re whole.”

“I’ve been whole.”

“It still feels as though I’m meeting you for the first time.”

He cracked a smile. “It’s been happening slowly,” he said. “My old self and my new self, it’s all sort of…” He knotted his fingers to demonstrate. “I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

“I love you as well.”

Demyx kissed him gently. At least that much felt the same. When he pulled away, his eyes were watery. “I’ve been, um, a bit of a crybaby,” he said.

“But this time it’s a happy cry.”

He nodded, patting his eyes. “I’m just hoping we can finally be together now,” he said. “‘Cause… no offense… I’m kind of sick of this crap.”

Ienzo laughed. “I hope so, Demyx. Er.”

“Demyx is still fine. I don’t really care. But if you really want to know.” He whispered the name.

Ienzo repeated it. “That’s not what I thought it would be.”

“Yeah. It was a revelation to me too at the time.”

“Surely you haven’t spent the whole six weeks here?”

He shook his head. “I still needed to, like, sleep and stuff. But actually I’ve been spending time with the others. Even and I are friends now, which is really weird.”

“I’m glad you two have found this a bonding experience.” He was only partially teasing. Adversity really did draw people together.

He looked sheepish. “He’s been asking me one thousand questions about the past. And trying to study my Keyblade. He keeps trying to touch it, but I can’t risk anyone inheriting that shit. No more kids are going to go through what I went through. This thing dies with me.”

Something vital had shifted between them. Demyx was no longer the person Ienzo had fallen in love with, but he was the person Ienzo was going to fall for again. He just knew. “I’m glad you have Arpeggio back.”

“Me too,” he said. “But it took a lot of work. A lot or work. A lot of learning bad stuff about myself.” He tapped his thumbs together. “I think I want to study healing.”

Ienzo blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean. I know it’s dumb, and I’m probably too stupid, but--”

“No. Neither it nor you are stupid. I think you’d be wonderful.”

He blushed. “I don’t want to feel helpless again. And if I can keep others from feeling that way…”

“If this is what your heart says to do, do it.”

“I’ve been talking to Aerith. She’s really nice. I was going to start training with her once you got better.” He sighed. “But in a weird way I’ve been lonely. I’ve… really missed you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. You saved me.”

“Do you really believe you wouldn’t have woken up?”

His expression darkened. He pulled his knees to his chest. “It was dark in that water,” he said slowly. “Dark and cold. And there was so much pain I didn’t think I could stand all of it. There was this little bit of me that just said to let go. And if I did I wouldn’t have woken up.”

“You would’ve lost the will to live.”

He nodded. “And I was going to do it. I was so, so close. I didn’t know how to get free. But then I felt you drag me out of the water, and I heard your voice, and I remembered that there are good things, too. I have to make this third or fourth or whatever chance worth it. Because I’m not gonna get another one.” He paused. His face turned pink. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about stuff.”

Ienzo drew him close. It felt so good to hold him, to breathe in his scent (at least that was still the same). “If you want to heal bodies,” he said slowly, “I want to heal minds.”

Demyx pulled away. “Saving me nearly killed you.”

Ienzo shook his head. “Maybe not literally. Maybe not with magic. Maybe with… with words. It can be a work in progress.”

“That sounds… good. Who knows. We all need a bit of help.”

---

Recovery took time. Physically Ienzo was weaker than before. The simplest activities wore him out, and he was constantly exhausted. More than ever he was prone to headaches. Aerith visited to take a look at him and to speak with Demyx. Getting his power back had eroded and damaged some of his nerves, which explained the pain. She healed the damage and gave him some pills to take.

Demyx asked her a lot of questions. His inquisitiveness was new to Ienzo, and very attractive.

“I think it’ll be fun to have a student,” Aerith said. “The town keeps growing. It’ll be good to have another pair of hands.” She left behind a couple of books for him to study.

They took walks as he got stronger. Talked, sometimes. Mostly they didn’t say much of anything, and rested in silence or to the light sound of the sitar.

It became clear that they were both hurting.

Ienzo thought at first that Demyx’s newfound reservedness had something to do with the return of his memories. But as the days wore on, he started to see layers to it--the lack of life in his eyes, the way he no longer leaned into Ienzo’s touch. He didn’t eat much, took frequent naps. He didn’t play music much. Didn’t touch his new books.

“Demyx?”

He looked at Ienzo as if he were not quite there. The bitter cold of the room didn’t help much.

“Are you alright?”

A slight pause, as though the words didn’t register. “I’m fine. A little tired.”

“You seem very tired lately.”

He shrugged. “It’s the cold. Wears me out.”

Ienzo sat across from him at the table. “Are you sure it’s nothing more? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.” Ienzo took his hand.

“I’m still learning who that is,” he said softly.

“Well, then how do you feel?”

“Honestly?”

Ienzo nodded.

It seemed to take time to find the strength to speak. “Mostly--tired,” he said. “Tired, and numb. I thought I was supposed to be happy. We can finally put our lives together. And it seems like every day I feel a little weaker.”

“Because of your memories? And what you learned about yourself finding Arpeggio?”

“I… guess.” Demyx’s hand trembled and he withdrew it. “It’s just like. Why did I survive out of those thousands of wielders? And why is it that I of all people remember what happened? It feels so senseless. Couldn’t I have fought harder? Saved someone?”

“You were a child,” Ienzo said. “You were trying to stay alive.”

“And why did Xehanort choose me? I wasn’t ever the strongest and I never could collect as much lux as the others. Again and again I was his puppet. And he threw me away.”

Ienzo felt an ache in his throat and fought to keep his expression neutral. “Do you see yourself as not having worth?”

He scoffed. “As a pawn? Absolutely. But as a real person?” He shrugged.

Ienzo digested all this. “I think you’re depressed,” he said slowly.

He pursed his lips, as though he tasted something bitter. “I guess so. I am just so tired of constantly fighting.” His knuckles, curled around his elbows, were white.

“I know you are. But you’re done fighting now.”

“Not really.” He smiled dryly. “Still have to get my shit together. That’s an uphill battle.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Ienzo said. “I have studied psychology, after all.”

He snorted. “Not that I doubt your competence, but wouldn’t it be a huge conflict of interest if my boyfriend were my therapist?”

He had a point. There was no way he could be impartial. Yet their connection in the illusion had to mean something. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m not certain who else here you would feel comfortable talking to, though.”

“...I guess you’re right.”

“You can’t let these feelings fester. They’ll worsen.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re hurting too.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Ienzo.” His gaze was sharp as a knife. “Let me help you too.”

“You have none of the training.”

“I can listen,” he said.

Ienzo felt the lump in his throat tighten.

“I know you have a lot to say. Tell me the story.”

“Will you tell me yours?”

He nodded.

“It’s a deal.”

Demyx picked up Ienzo’s hand and kissed it. There was life still under there, buried deep. They just had to find it.

#beyond this existence: counterpoint #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #demyx/ienzo #beyond this existence

6 notes · View notes