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unpredictable-probabilities · 8 months

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Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 4: What Lurks Beneath a Smile

Summary

Azul visits NRC and meets some of the people close to Jamil, who are understandably curious whether they’re dating or not.

In the middle of their hangout, Jamil learns of Azul’s burdens as an RSA student, as Rielle’s friend, and the dire danger that comes with them.

Word Count: 18, 487

A few days later, Jamil is making a meal for himself in the school kitchen. Normally he’d be doing it at Scarabia, but some of the freshmen are currently using the kitchen there. He doesn’t mind, it’ll be good if more of his residents develop an interest in cooking; he’d have more help in preparing their meals.

Ruggie was already there when Jamil arrived, and they've been chatting for a while like they usually do whenever they run into each other here.

But Ruggie doesn't have his usual energy tonight, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t wanna return to Savanaclaw even though it’s getting late already.

Jamil has a pretty good idea why, but he’s not sure what to say, or if he should even say anything. Maybe Ruggie would prefer not to talk about it at all, especially since Jamil wasn’t even there when it happened. All his knowledge of it came from stories he heard floating around.

"You can go ahead, Jamil," Ruggie says when he sees that Jamil has finished cooking. "You can eat over there at the table, I'll clean up here."

"You sure?" Jamil asks, glancing down at the bandages on Ruggie's arm.

Jamil had an injury too, a few weeks back. Cut his own hand while cooking on a night just like this, only for him to find out that it had been Ruggie's Signature Spell to disable him before their interdorm Spelldrive tournament.

But even then, he healed up. In contrast, Ruggie's injury, whatever it was, continued to persist well past all other scrapes and bruises he got during the day of the tournament proper.

"Yeah, man," Ruggie says. "I got this. You can start eatin'. I'll join you in a bit."

Ruggie speaks with his usual light tone, but Jamil can see that he can't use his injured arm as well as the other one, and his eyes are a little glazed and distracted.

Jamil sighs. "As if I'd be comfortable eating while someone else is still doing the work. If you don't want me to sit and watch you, you might as well let me help. You can pay me back by giving me a portion of your food…" He squints at the ingredients. "What're you trying to make here?"

"A'right, fine," Ruggie says. "And I'm just making potato and leek soup." He glances at Jamil's dish. "What did you make?"

"Found some black sea bass from the freezer unit and cooked it with some radishes," he shrugs like it was no big deal. "Decided to try something new while the freshmen are busying themselves with Scarabia's kitchen. Meanwhile, how're the other Savanaclaws gonna survive without your cooking? Leaving your lil' cubs out to starve for the night?" he then teases.

"Jack volunteered," Ruggie says. "He said he'll ask the others to help, too. He and Yuu insisted that I take a break. That lil' Ramshackle runt can be persuasive, y'know? Hand me that spatula," he points to the utensils hanging on hooks.

Jamil did just that, also bringing in any other utensils he knows Ruggie would need for the soup.

As he does so, he hums. "Never thought I'd see the day when Ruggie of all people decides to take a break. Even when we were freshmen, you were already hopping on whatever gig or scheme you could lay your hands on for money's sake."

That was, until Leona came along and he and Ruggie promptly began a give-and-take dynamic. But he feels that it would be inappropriate to bring him up, if the recent rumors of what happened before the tournament were true.

"How have you been coping so far? As someone who had a whole year to adjust, it takes a while to get used to."

"It's been okay," Ruggie shrugs. "Even with my work at Savanaclaw, I still got time to get extra gigs here and there. Sweepin' the stables, weeding the gardens, stuff like that. Oh, by the way, I was looking for you the other day to ask about a recipe, but your Vice Prefect said you'd gone out to buy an outfit for the Autumn Dance. You were out for like the whole day, didja have trouble finding an affordable suit? I can hook you up to some of the clothing stores I know."

"... No need," Jamil coolly replies. "I already got what I was looking for and I doubt I'd need to buy a new set of clothes anytime soon. If I ever do, though, I'll let you know." Though he knows that such advice often comes with a price when it's from Ruggie. "So? What's the recipe you needed help with?"

"Do ya know how to make vegetable dishes tasty?" Ruggie asks. "We have a greenhouse and some gardens here so it's much cheaper to mix vegetables and meat in dishes, but the cubs at Savanaclaw are extremely picky and we always have leftovers that go bad if I try."

Ruggie puts his soup in a bowl and grabs a spoon. "C'mon," he jerks his head towards the table and walks over to it.

As they make their way over to the table, with the ghost chefs tilting their heads at them in greeting as they pass by, Jamil starts informing Ruggie about taking out the bitter taste in vegetables (that's most likely why many of the meat-loving Savanaclaws are averse to them) using the right seasoning, like salt or oil and avoiding cooking methods like boiling when he could roast or stir-fry them instead.

"And you can try mixing them with meat in a way where it's impossible for the others to completely take them out," Jamil cunningly smiles. "Like meatballs, omelettes, pies, cookies… The possibilities are endless. Plus, I'm sure once they've figured out the hidden veggies, they wouldn't complain on account of how tasty you'd make them."

Ruggie snickers. "I knew I could rely on ya. If you need anythin' just let me know!"

Jamil's phone on the table lights up from a text.

Ruggie's gaze falls on the name on the screen and he raises his eyebrow.

"Piano Man?" Ruggie says, downing a spoonful of soup. "Why's a piano guy texting you at this hour?"

Jamil gives Ruggie a small look of warning as he takes his phone. "Good news: I thought of how you're gonna pay me back for my advice. Forget you ever saw that."

Ruggie narrows his eyes in suspicion, then he snickers. "A'right, you can keep your mystery piano man a secret."

Jamil leans back in his seat and reads Azul's message.

Jamil's eyes widen a little in surprise, then they soften.

And with that, he turns his phone off and goes back to his meal, knowing that more time spent texting meant more time getting stared at by Ruggie.

"Anyway," he clears his throat. "What are your plans for the upcoming dance? Would attending it be considered part of your break, too?"

Ruggie stares at his reaction suspiciously for a few seconds, but luckily he lets it go.

"There's free food, Jamil, of course I'm going to the dance! I ain't got beef with RSA, anyway, like you and the others. Bet they got all types'a fancy food, and I don't have to prepare any of it!" Ruggie snickers. "I'm a lil' surprised you're attending, though. Never figured you for one who's into those fancy events."

"Fair enough," Jamil shrugs. "I don't have much beef with RSA either, save for that quiz bee, but that's water under the bridge. I figured it'd be a waste to skip out on a celebration when I intend to live my days here to the fullest however possible. Besides, I'm used to those parties so I'm not averse to them. It'd be interesting to see what an RSA party is like and how it compares to ours. I heard even Idia Shroud might be coming. If you're going to be surprised about anybody, be surprised about him."

"Whoa, Idia Shroud?" Ruggie's eyes widen. "Now that's a rare sight to see. I've been here two years and I think I've only seen him like three times. And hey, look at you bein' mature about that quiz bee! I still hear some guys being salty about it, grumblin' about how that Azul Whatshisface stole victory from us. As if they did any work," Ruggie scoffs.

"I know," Jamil smirks in amusement. "I pity them for not having better things to do with their time… What would you have done, if you had lost like I did?"

"Woulda eaten like two dozen donuts to make myself feel better," Ruggie says immediately. "What did you do? I was gonna ask you to hang out after the confetti but ya disappeared. Ya didn't sneak off and kill Azul, didja?" he snickers.

"Hm-hm, who knows?" was all Jamil replies with, slyly taking another bite from his meal. "Also, I wouldn't exactly call you mature, either, considering how you… yanno… " he gestures to his hand, where a faint scar can be seen. "... The lengths you were willing to go to keep me off the field 'cause you perceived me as a threat."

Ruggie's smirk melts off his face, and he looks down at his bowl that was almost empty.

"Yeah… Sorry about that…" he mutters. Then he looks up at Jamil again with a humorous smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I was a real asshole, wasn't I? Not gonna happen again."

He takes his bowl in both hands and downs the remaining soup in one gulp.

"I'm gonna clean up," Ruggie stands up and claps Jamil on the shoulder, then makes his way to the sink.

Jamil watches Ruggie rise and walk to the sink, quiet. He knew he had to get to the conversation somehow.

"... Will you be heading back to your dorm after this? Or do you have other places to sleep in for the night?"

Ruggie starts washing the dishes and takes his time answering.

"I dunno yet," he mumbles as the faucet runs. "I'll decide later."

Jamil finishes his food and moves to the sink.

If he and Ruggie are similar in nature, then Jamil knows Ruggie is going to hate this... but maybe not as much as he would believe.

Color him blasphemous but from recent experiences, talking things out haven't been as bad as he thought.

He settles on the space next to the hyena, voice quiet and sincere. "What happened? Back before the tournament began."

Ruggie purses his lips and doesn't look at him.

"What do you already know?" he asks quietly.

"Other than the fact that all the 'accidents' leading up to it had been a dorm-wide scheme, none," Jamil replies. "I've been hearing rumors but I don't like paying them much heed."

He glances at Ruggie and his arm. "... I can try to guess, though."

Ruggie casts a sideways glance at him, quietly waiting for him to continue.

"Out of all the rumors, one stayed too consistent to simply be baseless speculation." Jamil quietly explains. "Leona, he... The delinquent drove himself into an Overblot."

He gestures to Ruggie's injury. "I'm guessing he did something to you in the heat of the moment, something even harsher than a normal spell or attack, otherwise you'd have healed already."

Ruggie's lower lip trembles, but he bites down on it and nods.

"His…" his voice breaks and he clears his throat. "His Signature Spell. He can turn anything to sand. And when he was… Overblotting… the bastard started monologuing about how he didn't need me and shit, and, well… at some point he kinda tried to kill me," Ruggie lifts his injured arm. "So…"

Jamil winces. "Seriously? Bastard... as if he doesn't know who's been making his life easy around here..."

He looks closely at the bandages and frowns at a realization. Ruggie has never let injuries get the best of him before.

"Something tells me that the injury doesn't hurt you as much as what Leona said." He muses. "You wouldn't have avoided talking about him since then if it hadn't. After all, the other Savanaclaws were there when he Overblotted, but they're being as chummy with him as ever after it's all said and done."

Ruggie finishes washing the dishes and dries his hands on a towel. He leans against the sink and crosses his arms.

"I stayed until after I was sure he's recovered enough," Ruggie says quietly. "But after that… Well, an errand boy's always busy doing work around the campus. And Leona had never been good at starting conversations even when people aren't avoiding him…" Ruggie laughs bitterly. "So we're here. Well, I'm here. I don't care where he is…"

"And you don't have to. If he doesn't wanna talk, then he can have it his way." Jamil huffed. "... If you need a place to stay, we've got spare rooms in Scarabia. I know you don't want to seem like you're running away, but sometimes that distance is needed. You can take it from me."

Ruggie nods. "Thanks, Jamil. I… I think I wanna talk, though…" his voice fades so quietly that Jamil had to strain to hear it. Ruggie chuckles mirthlessly again. "Stupid, right? Guy almost disintegrates my arm and I still care so much about him…"

He takes a shaky breath, and continues speaking in a whisper. "He was in so much pain, Jamil… I don't ever wanna see him like that again. But I don't… I don't know how…" his voice breaks and he shuts his eyes tight.

Jamil's face becomes indecipherable as his brows furrow, then slowly and almost hesitantly, his arm reaches out to give Ruggie a side-hug, glancing around to make sure no one else is snooping in on them before looking back at the hyena.

"It's... good that you wanna talk to him after everything, but if he's not ready then it's not up to you to do everything for him. Give him time, and while you do that, go do some stuff for your sake. Sevens know you deserve it… Honestly, I didn't realize you guys had gotten so close. I was there when you first met him and man, you both looked like you were about to tear each other's throats out. I still remember how you freaked out when he first summoned you to his room."

In an attempt to lighten the mood, he makes an effort to mimic Ruggie's voice. "'He's gonna kill me, I just know it, Jamil. When I disappear from class the next day, you have to come looking for my corpse, okay!?'"

A small laugh bursts out of Ruggie, and he sniffles, opening his eyes again. "I can't believe you remember that." He sighs. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Ruggie stays quiet for a few moments, then playfully elbows Jamil. "And I didn't realize that you were so down for dramatic talks. When did that happen?"

"I could ask the same about you," Jamil shoots back at him. "I was half-expecting you to put up a fight before admitting anything close to what you told me... Guess I found that those talks hadn't been so bad once the icky part of being all vulnerable is said and done."

Ruggie shrugs. "I guess I'd been wanting to talk about it to someone. And you're the one who asked so I figured it'll be your fault if I ever said anything you didn't wanna hear. Besides, if you blab about this to anyone, I can always get you back by telling everyone about your secret piano man text pal."

Jamil narrows his eyes at him. "Be careful. Spreading his presence might bring his wrath down upon you, not mine." He says this without malice, then chuckles as he shakes his head. "Your secret's safe with me. What're you feeling now?"

Ruggie sniffles and rubs his eyes, grinning. "I feel like I can sleep peacefully in Savanaclaw tonight. Thanks, Jamil, really. Enjoy the half day tomorrow."

Ruggie claps him on the back and starts to walk away.

"No prob, Rug. Enjoy the half day tomorrow yourself," Jamil smiles at him, then moves to finish his dishes by the sink.

The miracle of a talk is astounding, frankly.

Jamil adjusts his backpack on his shoulders as he enters the Scarabia lounge. Classes had finished and he's on his way to his room, then a voice he never expected to hear in this place calls his name.

"Jamil!"

He turns around in time to get tackled by a lanky young girl.

Najma lets him go from the embrace and smiles cheekily at him. "Betcha didn't see that coming, huh?"

Jamil blinks wildly down at her before his jaw drops.

"N-Najma!? What the— What are you DOING here!?"

He puts his hands on her cheeks and inspects her from head to toe, wondering if it's a trick or a trap.

"Hey!" Najma playfully swats his hands away. "Our school has a field trip here today, one of the most prestigious colleges, y'know? I didn't tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. So, surprise!"

Najma grins up at him.

"A fieldtrip?" Jamil asks, finding it almost hard to believe but there was no other explanation for why she could be here out of nowhere. "Then… what are you doing here away from your schoolmates?!"

"Relax!" Najma chides. "I asked our teacher for permission to swing by here! She knows you're my brother so she allowed me. I gotta get back to them now, though. But later we'll be given free reign as long as we won't be wandering alone! Catch you then?"

"I... suppose, though if you're expecting a tour guide around the school, you'll have to ask someone else. I'm heading out later to the town at the base of the mountain."

"Oh, why? Whatcha doing?"

"I'm gonna be meeting up with someone there." Jamil replies vaguely, already dreading having his little sister pry more information out of him.

Najma narrows her eyes at him and slowly nods. "Okay, okay, if you say so…"

Then she gives him a quick hug again. "See you later!" And she runs off.

Jamil, still awkward around physical affection (despite all his years growing up with Kalim), stood stiff as Najma hugged him.

He watches her leave, then checks his watch before texting Azul.

His phone lights up about a minute later as he's making his way to his room.

Nearing the cafeteria, he notices that the students suddenly hush around him.

He looks around curiously and sees that Azul is walking towards the entrance. He's wearing a light blue long-sleeved button up shirt and black slacks, but it seems like the students still recognize him even without his uniform.

People stare and conversations stop as he goes past. Azul doesn't seem to mind, though. He just keeps walking like he normally does, like he doesn't even notice the other students.

"Hey asshole!"

A sandwich flies through the air and hits Azul square in the chest, splattering meat and tomato sauce all over his white uniform.

He stops walking.

"You got the nerve to show your face here after what ya did?" The thrower steps up to Azul, and Jamil notices the Scarabia band around his arm.

He walks closer and recognizes it as his fellow Second Year, Orfeo, the one who's just barely passing his classes.

The other students seem to take a step back, but the crowd is beginning to thicken.

"I have the Headmage's permission for my visit," Azul says calmly with a polite smile.

Orfeo scoffs. "I don't give a damn if you got the Great Seven's permission. Ya don't belong here. The exit is that way," he points to the direction of the school gate.

"I'm afraid that I have some more business here," Azul says, unfazed. "You'll have to tolerate my presence for a little while longer."

Orfeo takes out his Magic Pen and points it threateningly at Azul's face. "Get out."

Faster than Jamil can react, Azul grabs Orfeo's wrist and twists his arm behind his back.

"I will," Azul continues in his calm tone, standing behind Orfeo. "Just give me a few minutes, my friend."

"Ohhhh…!" say a few of the students, some wincing at the smooth takedown while others watch in amazement.

Jamil sighs, walking forward and proceeding to separate the both of them.

He sharply turns to the fellow Scarabia before him. "What the hell do you think you're doing? RSA or not, assaulting a visitor that the Headmage himself acknowledged is grounds for suspension. What if the younger students from the Scalding Sands saw this behavior while they're in the middle of their tour?" He crosses his arms, stern. "Apologize."

His resident looks baffled at his remarks.

"B-But Prefect, this is the guy that stole your win, right? Why are you taking his side?"

"Because I'm not a petulant child who throws a tantrum over what's already happened," he replies, then remembers that he sorta did have a tantrum. But it at least didn't last very long. "Azul here is an honored guest by the Headmage, me, and Jade Leech. If you have a bone to pick with him, then you have a bone to pick with the three of us. Now, are you gonna run along or am I gonna have to report this to Crowley?"

Orfeo stammers for a bit, looking at him and Azul in turn, then runs away.

Jamil loses the scowl and turns to Azul, noticing the stain on his clothes. He clicks his tongue. "How unfortunate... What a waste of perfectly good food."

Azul raises his eyebrows. "Well, I'm glad you know your priorities."

He looks down at his shirt and a frown creases his forehead.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes," he mutters.

Jamil feigns surprise at seeing Azul. "Oh, it's you."

Then he playfully smiles. "Didn't seem like you needed anyone worrying about you. You looked like you could've gotten it all handled but... Couldn't let you get the entire spotlight now."

He takes out his pen and magics most of the mess away, leaving only a faint red stain.

"Here, so you don't have to run around looking like you just recovered from being shot in the chest." He muttered, taking off his grey blazer and passing it over to him.

Since he still had his hoodie on, he was well-dressed enough even without the extra layer so he didn't mind.

Azul looks surprised, but he takes the blazer and wears it, covering up the stain.

"Thank you," he gives Jamil a small smile, and looks around at the crowd of students still staring at them. More than a handful of them are wide-eyed at Jamil's gesture.

Azul hides it well but Jamil could see in the tension in his shoulders that he's uncomfortable with the attention.

Jamil's pretty tense with it as well, but he knows that no one would interfere with them at this point.

"Let's head somewhere else then, yes?" He tries to look relaxed as he puts his hands in his pockets. "Come on, let's get outta here."

Jamil leads Azul to the corridors outside, then his phone rings in his pocket.

He stops walking, giving Azul a signal to pause for a bit, then takes his phone to see who was contacting him.

Ruggie's name is flashing on the screen.

Jamil raises an eyebrow at this. He looks at Azul.

"Hold on, I have to take this."

He politely walks a few steps forward to answer the call and puts the phone to his ear. "Ruggie?"

"Hey," Ruggie's voice says. "I found your sister."

"Hey, Jamil~!" Najma's voice says from a bit further away.

"Apparently it's their free time now from the tour, and she stopped by the kitchens looking for you. Viper junior here says she wants to help me cook. Wanna hang with us?"

Jamil pauses, contemplating before he looks up at Azul. "A friend of mine's asking if I wanna go cook something with them in the school kitchens. We'll have to go back to the cafeteria to get there, though. Do you have anywhere else you need or wish to go first?"

Azul shakes his head. "No, I'm free for the rest of the day. And cooking with your friends does sound lovely. Is it alright if I help as well?" he smiles.

Jamil's glad Azul doesn't seem so miffed about the cafeteria incident anymore.

"Sure. Come on, then," And he begins to make his way back to the crowded dining area. "Do you cook often?"

“Not as often as I’d like,” Azul says. “If I had the time, I’d open some sort of cafe. But as things stand now, I’m always too busy for such things.”

They pass by the cafeteria again, and Jamil isn’t surprised that the students’ eyes are following them.

What does surprise him is the change in energy. The looks thrown in Azul’s way are less wary and suspicious and more like… fascinated? Some of the students actually smile to their friends when they catch sight of Azul, while others are whispering excitedly among themselves.

Jamil glances around the room, slightly unsettled by the attention. Whether it was positive or negative, he decides any attention still makes him uneasy, so he hurries along to the kitchen doors. As soon as they're inside, he lets out an exhale.

"Well..!" He mutters. "That was unexpected..."

"Indeed," Azul glances back with furrowed eyebrows in the direction they came from. "What was that about? Were they actually smiling?"

"That's what it looked like. But what they were smiling about, I'm not sure…“ He squints at Azul. "They seemed to be looking at you, though. Did you do something in the short time you were there somehow?"

"No," Azul looks even more confused. "After my meeting with Jade, I headed straight for the cafeteria. I never even spoke to anyone else. Perhaps it was you they were smiling at?"

"Eugh, I hope not," Jamil shudders at the thought. “This kind attention from his schoolmates could never lead to anything good. "Whatever. They're not bothering us anymore so that's all that matters in the end, I guess. Anyway..." He glances around the kitchen for any sign of Ruggie and Najma. "... This is the first I've heard of you wanting to own a café."

Azul shrugs. “It’s not like I’m actively working towards it. So there isn’t much to talk about.” He gives his usual polite smile, but Jamil detects the resignation in his tone.

Jamil spots them by one of the stoves. Ruggie seems to be cooking while Najma is sitting on the counter and chatting with him.

He falls quiet. As long as Najma and Ruggie haven't noticed them yet…

His voice dropping low into a quiet mutter, he asks Azul, "Why not? It's what you want to do, right?"

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid,” Azul says, still maintaining the smile. “And why are we being quiet?” He asks and looks around, matching Jamil’s change in volume.

"But why can't it be that simple?" Jamil asks, bothered by this side of Azul.

"Oh! There he is!" Najma greets, noticing them and holding up her hand to wave. Then she pauses. "Huh? Hey, who's that?"

Ruggie looks over to them at Najma's question, and his eyes widen.

"No way," he turns off the stove and walks towards them, then points to Azul. "You're that RSA dude, right? Azul… Something?"

Azul smiles and holds up a hand to Ruggie. "Azul Ashengrotto. Pleased to meet you."

Ruggie looks surprised for a second before shaking Azul's hand. "Uh, yeah. Ruggie Bucchi."

"RSA?" Najma hops off the counter and walks over to them as well, eyeing Azul. Then she turns to Jamil. "Is that your blazer he's wearing?"

"Someone threw food at him and tomato sauce tends to leave a stain, so…" Jamil answers, crossing his arms. "What have you two been getting up to? And Najma, since when did you know Ruggie of all people?"

“I was looking for you in the kitchen,” Najma replies. “But I found him instead. So I asked him if he knew you, and then he called you and here we are!”

“Wait wait,” Ruggie looks confused. “Since when do you two hang out?”

"Since Floyd forcibly roped me along into a merman reunion," Jamil smoothly replies. "He came here to meet up with Jade over something and now he's free and wanted to cook along. This is the least I could do to make up for one of my members chucking food at him. Any problem with that?"

“Chill out!” Ruggie says, holding his hands up. “I was just asking, dang.”

“Ooh, you’re a merman?” Najma says in fascination. “I’ve never met a merman before! Najma Viper, Mr. Azul, sir!” she sticks out her hand. “That grump over there is my brother,” she nods her head towards Jamil.

Azul chuckles and shakes Najma's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Najma."

"Okay, now that introductions are done, let's go do what we came here to do." Ruggie waves them over to the stove and he continues to stir-fry vegetables.

“What your resident did was out of your control, you know,” Azul tells Jamil pointedly as they walk to join Ruggie. "There is nothing to make up for.”

“Yeah,” Najma looks at Jamil suspiciously. “Who knew you had such a kind soul, brother?”

Jamil seems to cringe at the word. "I wasn't being so kind as much as I was being responsible. I think anyone would do the same in my shoes."

Ruggie shrugs and does a seesaw motion with his hand. "I dunno about that, but sure."

"Speaking of responsible..." Jamil turns to fuss over his sister. "You're lucky it was Ruggie of all people you talked to. What have I told you about approaching random strangers, Najma? If anything bad were to happen to you…"

“It’s fine, Jamil,” Najma punches him playfully on the arm. “I saw Ruggie’s uniform so I knew he was a student and maybe he knew you. Besides, you taught me well on how to defend myself! You don’t need to worry so much.”

“Yeah, man,” Ruggie agrees. “If you’re the one who taught her to fight, then if anyone here chucks food at her, they’ll be no match.” He glances at Azul. "It's a good thing you got time to hang with us, Azul. You're not busy over there at RSA?"

"Not today, no," Azul replies. "We have no classes today since most of us are attending to the Autumn Dance preparations, including the professors. And I've finished my committee duties and piano rehearsals this morning, fortunately.”

Ruggie’s ears perk up and he turns to face Azul. “You play the piano?”

Azul nods. “I was assigned to play a few songs at the dance; the rehearsals are part of my routine.”

“Huh!” Ruggie says exaggeratedly. “Interesting. And uh, has Jamil heard you play?”

“Once, the other day,” Azul smiles at the memory. “He caught me playing a simple song at the department store piano.”

“Huh,” Ruggie says again, subtly smirking at Jamil. No doubt remembering what Jamil said about going out to buy an outfit for the dance. “Cool, cool, good to know.”

Jamil rolls his eyes, aware of where Ruggie had been going with his line of questioning.

"What're you cooking now?" He eyes the vegetables, pretending he hadn't heard all that. "Are these for those cubs of yours?"

"Cubs?" Najma repeats, confused.

“I cook for the residents of my dorm, Savanaclaw,” Ruggie explains. “This dish ain’t for them, though.” he looks at Jamil. “I’m trying out some recipes following your advice the other night, mixing vegetables into meat. Right now I’m making tacos, just a small batch to see if I get the taste right. There’s enough for four people, though, so y’all can have some, too.”

Ruggie mixes in some cooked ground beef with the vegetables and turns to Azul. “You’re helping, right? Line up those taco shells on the tray over there.”

“Oh, of course,” Azul rolls up his sleeves and walks over to the sink a little farther from them to wash his hands.

Najma walks next to Jamil and whispers. “He’s pretty cute. What’s your deal with him?”

Jamil raises an eyebrow at Najma's before quietly gazing at Azul, whispering his own reply. "He's a friend. Why? Also if you're gonna lurk here, you should help out, too."

“I am helping!” Najma whispers. “I was the one who told Ruggie what spices to add in the ground beef. But more importantly, is Azul the friend you said you were meeting in town today?”

"... Well, I thought we'd be going to the town after his errand here but it seems like he's fine with seeing more of this place," Jamil explains. "What of it?"

“He’s wearing your blazer,” Najma says pointedly, as if it should be obvious what she’s talking about. “In all our lives, I have never seen you lend anyone any of your clothes. Ever. And he’s from RSA? As in the rival of your school? You always avoid any source of potential intrigue, and now here you are being besties with an RSA guy. Also you’ve been awfully defensive ever since Ruggie called you out for hanging out with him.”

"Yeah, well…" Jamil started, fumbling over his thoughts to think of something to say and coming up with none. "So?"

A smile appears on Najma's face, and her eyes are practically glowing. "So, he's not just a friend to you, is he? That is so cool!" she excitedly whispers, eyeing Azul who is now currently talking with Ruggie while he arranges the taco shells on a tray lined with wax paper.

"If you want, I can try to find out if he likes you back," Najma adds, leaning towards Jamil conspiratorially.

"What?!" Jamil quietly hisses, feeling warmth rush into his face. "No, you will not! Get back h—"

But Najma has already begun slinking to Azul's other side, pretending to be interested in his work.

“Do you like cooking, Mr. Azul?” Najma asks, standing next to him.

“I do,” Azul smiles. “I grew up watching my mother cook, and I’ve developed a fondness for it.”

“I grew up cooking with my brother! I enjoy it, too!” Najma smiles back. “The dance that you’re preparing for, will you be helping with the catering?”

“I’m part of the committee that decides on the menu, yes, but I won’t be helping with the actual cooking,” Azul says.

“What kinda food would be there?” Ruggie asks with interest. “Is it gonna be a buffet? I gotta prepare my plan of attack.”

“NRC’s invited! That’s great!” Najma says excitedly.

“Indeed,” Azul smiles. “And yes, it will be a buffet. Drinks and desserts included.”

“Aw heck yeah!” Ruggie says and pops a piece of beef into his mouth. “Oh this is almost done. We’ll have tacos in a minute, kids!”

“Looks like Mr. Ruggie’s pretty hyped about the dance. Maybe you should ask him to be your date,” she says jokingly to Azul, watching carefully for his reaction.

Azul chuckles. “Ah, well, your brother has already asked me that. I’m going to the dance with him.”

Najma gasps softly and her eyes widen.

Ruggie dissolves into a coughing fit, almost choking on the food that he had tasted again. He thumps his chest with his fist a few times.

“WHAT!?” He whips around to stare incredulously at Jamil.

Jamil has his hoodie up, finding the kitchen window extremely interesting to watch right now.

"Jamil?" Azul sounds concerned. "Are you all right? I'm sorry, I... I thought it was alright to mention..." his voice fades out uncertainly.

"It's fine," Jamil says, his small voice trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Wow, that windowsill is really clean. Whoever dusted that deserves a reward.

The pan sizzles.

"Oh crap," Ruggie says and turns off the stove. "A'right that's enough about Jamil's love life. Now I need y'all to see if this is good enough for vegetable-hating beastmen."

He quickly finishes preparing the tacos and carries the tray to one of the tables.

"Come along, kids."

Najma tugs Jamil by his shirt and they all follow Ruggie.

Jamil ends up sitting next to Najma and across from Azul. Ruggie is sitting next to Azul and across from Najma.

He hears the crunch of taco shells and looks up to see Ruggie and Najma eating already. He sneaks a glance at Azul.

The merman is doing his best to maintain a posture worthy of an RSA student, but his eyes are cast down on his taco that remains uneaten, his fingers tapping restlessly on the shell.

Jamil, still feeling mighty embarrassed, knew that people were eventually going to find out, anyway.

He was able to break the news to Rielle and Floyd, but that was because they phrased it as a platonic date.

Meanwhile, Najma and Ruggie are both operating under the assumption that he asked Azul out in a romantic way, which isn't the case.

And yet he didn't say so and explain himself. He probably should.

But a part of him doesn't want to because he knew it'd be fruitless to convince Najma and he'd just waste his energy.

... Is that really the reason, though?

After what his little sister said, his brain begins to review the moments and signs around him. Taking a step back and viewing it from an outsider's perspective, he has to admit that he can see where she's coming from.

But does he really like Azul that way?

…

He sighs, then takes off his hood and takes a bite of the taco, chewing slowly to properly taste the flavors.

"Oh I love it," Najma says, halfway through her food. "You have nothing to worry about your cubs now."

She turns to Azul. "What do you think, Mr. Azul?"

"Hm?" Azul looks distractedly at Najma. "Oh." He takes a bite of the taco and chews it carefully.

"You've done a good job incorporating the vegetables in," he says to Ruggie. "The texture and taste complement each other, and the cilantro makes it taste more refreshing and less greasy. Though if I may, if your goal is to persuade your dorm mates to eat anything, then presentation is a significant factor. You can plate this taco with some dipping sauce at the side, perhaps even fruit slices if they aren’t opposed to that. If the dish is visually appealing, it would immediately be appetizing at first look."

Ruggie nods. "Yeah, that makes sense. They teach fine dining classes at RSA or something?"

"They do," Azul replies. "Though I learned most of my food knowledge from my mother. She owns a restaurant and pays extra attention to food presentation."

"Ooh! Can we go there?" Najma asks excitedly.

"Ah, it's underwater, so you will need to take potions beforehand to be able to breathe and survive the pressure," Azul explains. "If you're ever willing to go through that trouble, I'm sure my mother would be happy to welcome you."

"Sounds like a good summer plan," Ruggie snickers.

Najma turns to Jamil and pokes his shoulder. "Hey. Can you speak now? You're okay, right?"

"Mm-hm," Jamil hums, though he finished his taco first before saying anything further. "Tasty as always, Ruggie. I'm not sure if the visuals are too necessary, considering who you're feeding it to. Make it too fancy and your members might find it a bit alienating… and then there are those who won't care either way. They're already familiar with how your food tastes, so it's not like they need visual bait to lure them in."

"Psh, you're just saying that 'cause your meals are always brown and boring," Najma huffs, turning to Ruggie as Jamil opens his mouth in offense. "Don't listen to him. Making food look as good as they taste will get you far, I just know it!"

"Then I declare this a success!" Ruggie says, doing a voice that reminded Jamil of Riddle. "Thanks, guys. Even though it's really just Azul who helped with the actual cooking. You got a good one there, Jamil. Don't let him go."

Najma nods vigorously, chewing on her food.

Azul clears his throat. "I think Jamil is becoming quite uncomfortable with the jokes for now. Perhaps we can pick another topic to discuss, such as Ruggie's exceptional talent in the kitchen. If you have any dish you would like to have at the buffet, let me know and I'll tell the rest of the committee. I'm confident we can trust your judgment."

"I'll hold you to that," Ruggie points at him.

"Does it make you uncomfortable, though, Mr. Azul?" Najma says, undeterred. "When we talk about you and Jamil being each other's date for the Autumn Dance?"

Azul looks caught off-guard by the question. He blinks, then opens his mouth to speak—

"Oh my word!" a familiar voice cuts him off, and Jamil looks up to see Crowley approaching their table. "If it isn't RSA's very own Azul Ashengrotto!"

Azul stands up and graciously holds out a hand, his standard polite smile on his face. "Sir Dire Crowley."

Crowley shakes his hand enthusiastically. "Oh how honored I am to be in the presence of a future member of the Coral Sea's royal court!"

Jamil notices that Azul tenses up at that.

"Huh?" Ruggie says. "Azul?"

"Why, yes!" Crowley turns Azul and holds him by the shoulders as if Crowley's presenting him to them. "You're looking at Prince Rielle Triton's royal advisor!"

Crowley lowers his voice to a conspiratorial mumble. "Because it's too early to say whether you'll be his king, hm?" he chuckles merrily, not waiting for Azul to respond. "But no matter! Whether you'll be king of the oceans or a trusted right-hand man, the important thing is you'll have a seat at the royal court! Isn't that right?" he grins expectantly under his mask.

"Yes, sir," Azul nods with a smile. But Jamil has seen his real smile plenty enough times to notice that this one is strained. His eyes are guarded, his jaw too tense.

Azul's posture is perfect, his back straight and his hands behind him. Jamil could just see from this angle that Azul is gripping his left wrist with his right hand, digging his fingernails in as he smiles in supposed agreement with Crowley.

The royal advisor? Future king?

Jamil recalls the brief conversation he had with Azul about his cafe and how hasty he was to drop it.

All of a sudden, pieces started to click together as he stares at the merman in surprise.

"Royal court?" Najma asks, innocently unaware of the hidden layer of tension. "There's a royal family in the bottom of the ocean?"

"Najma, we've been taught this," Jamil mumbles.

"We have..? Oh, right. I remember now. The Tritons! WAIT! You're associated with royalty, Mister Azul!?"

Ruggie lowly whistles. "Dang, welcome to the club."

Azul nods, his polite smile unwavering. "Yes, Prince Rielle is a childhood friend of mine."

"How wonderful, isn't it?" Crowley says. "Well, I shall leave you all to your meals now. Until next time, Mr. Ashengrotto!" he claps Azul on the back and walks away, his cape fluttering behind him.

"Can you point me to the nearest vending machine?" Azul says to no one in particular, looking around. "The taco was quite flavorful, and I should like a drink to wash it down," he gestures to his plate, and Jamil notices the blood on the tips of his fingernails.

Before Jamil could say anything, Ruggie casually gestures over to the hallway outside. "Oh, take a right as soon as you exit and then as long as you keep on walking, you'll eventually find it in a corner leading to the courtyard."

"Thank you," Azul says. "Oh, do any of you want anything from there? My treat, since you were gracious enough to feed me tacos."

"Ooh, I'd like some milk tea, please!" Najma happily chimed in.

Ruggie wrinkles his nose and waves a languid hand in the air. "Any drink's fine, s'long as I don't have to pay for it."

Jamil did not know what to say as he's still trying to figure out a strategy, so he just shakes his head. "M'good..."

Azul nods. "All right, I shall be right back." he turns and leaves the cafeteria.

"Why did you say 'welcome to the club' earlier to Azul?" Najma asks Ruggie. "Are you associated with royalty?"

Ruggie begins rambling about Leona, and Jamil notices that Ruggie doesn't seem to mind talking about him anymore, but he's too lost in his own thoughts to pay much attention.

At some point, Jamil realizes that their chatter has stopped, and he glances up to see them staring at him.

"Well?" Najma asks, lacing her hands under her chin.

"Well what?"

"Are you gonna go and chase after him?"

Jamil squints at her in suspicion. "And why would I do that?"

"Hello? He's set for marriage with a sea prince when YOU have been harboring feelings for him! Are you just gonna let him run away!? Go!"

Jamil scoffs, willing to spite his sister by staying rooted in his seat when he suddenly notices Ruggie's expression.

"You should talk to him," Ruggie gestures with a jerk of his head, looking serious as he taps his nose. "My nose never lies and I smelled metal on his hands when he left. You know something we don't, so go. I think he needs it."

Jamil stares at the hyena before making a nod and standing up to head over to Azul.

"Huh? Wait, what's going on?" Najma asks after she watches her brother leave the room entirely.

"Drama talk, lil' Viper, the hallmark of a true romance," Ruggie grins, slipping back to his easygoing nature.

"Drama talk? My brother!?" Najma remarks, incredulous, before standing up from her seat. "Have you met him, Mister Ruggie!?"

The hyena shrugs. "I know, I know, but take it from me, Jamil ain't that bad at it."

Najma slowly sits back down, looking genuinely doubtful. "Okay... But if they take too long, we're gonna go look for them, alright?"

Jamil goes to the direction of the vending machine that Ruggie mentioned, hoping that Azul really did go there.

He sees him in front of it, hands in his pockets and staring at the machine with an expression too serious for someone who just wants to wash down a taco.

Jamil silently comes up to him, not bothering to hide his presence.

Azul doesn't notice. He's still staring at the glass of the vending machine but not making any movements to purchase anything.

Jamil takes a deep breath.

Then softly, he announces himself. "Hey, you."

Azul gets startled and looks at him. He blinks, and in an instant his posture is proper. That strained smile is plastered on his face again.

"Jamil. Have you changed your mind about the drink? Which one do you want?" Azul looks at the array of options.

"What do I want?"

Jamil leans against the vending machine, hands in his hoodie's pockets as he gives Azul a concerned look.

"I want to hear how you're doing. I can see when you're faking it, you know."

Azul looks conflicted for a moment, then he purses his lips and averts his eyes.

"I'm…" he sighs. "How are you so sure? This is only the fourth time we've even seen each other."

"I know what it's like to put on airs for other people," Jamil replies, then continues more quietly, "Besides, I've gotten to see for myself what a real smile looks like on your face. So…"

Azul meets his gaze, and for a moment there's a glimpse of that real smile.

"There it is," Jamil points out, feeling himself grin, too.

A small laugh bubbles out of Azul, and his shoulders relax. "I think… I just want some time to be… not what everyone expects me to be."

"Then let's do just that," Jamil says encouragingly. "If there's anything NRC's done for me, it's given me the space I needed to do what I wanted to do, so tell me, Azul... What do you desire the most at this very moment?"

Azul furrows his eyebrows in thought, chewing his bottom lip. "I'm not sure, exactly… That sounds bad, doesn't it?" he chuckles softly. "Um… Perhaps I should decide on which drink I want first. And I don't want to keep Ruggie and Najma waiting for theirs."

Jamil shrugs, content to have hopefully at least nudged him in the right direction.

He patiently waits next to the merman as he deals with the machine.

Azul straightens up with four drinks in his arms and hands one to Jamil.

He looks down at the bottle and sees that it's blond roast coffee.

"I remember that it's what you had at the cat café," Azul says. "I thought you might still like it."

"Indeed. My tastes haven't changed since then," Jamil quips. "Thanks. What did you get? Same drink as what you got in the café, too?"

Azul shakes his head. "No, just sparkling water. I don't wanna get something with a lot of calories. Shall we get back to the others?"

Jamil nods. "Let's."

But as soon as they round the corner, they run into Najma and Ruggie, who are trying to look as casual as possible.

"Oh, heeeeeeey, you two!" Najma greets. "We were… uh… just on our way to check up on you! You were taking a while!"

"Ah, my apologies for taking too long," Azul says, handing milk tea to Najma and fruit juice to Ruggie. "Shall we get back inside?"

Jamil squints at the both of them as they receive their drinks, then he relaxes, deciding to let it go for now.

"Actually, why don't we walk around?" he asks Azul and Najma. "Ruggie and I can show you a lot of NRC's facilities that no mere tour guide can provide. What do you two think?"

"That sounds lovely," Azul smiles.

"Oh sure," Najma turns to Ruggie. "He won't be a tour guide for me but when it's for Azul…" she shakes her head and gives Ruggie a look that says, "Can you believe this guy?"

"Ah, young love," Ruggie teases.

Jamil rolls his eyes, ignoring them to walk on ahead.

He leads them out of the main campus building, and as they walk along the steep steps to the lower cliff area, he turns to Azul. "Ah. By the way, what did you and Jade talk about?"

Azul adjusts his glasses. "Jade informed me that he remains the sole member of the Mountain Lovers Club, and he wants to promote it so that more of your schoolmates would be encouraged to join.

I suggested that he put up some sort of shop in Octavinelle, since it would be easier to manage if it's just in his dorm. He mentioned his fondness for mushrooms, and that he could pick them and other various plants when he goes hiking for his club activities. So I proposed that it might be good to cook those mushroom dishes for his dorm mates, perhaps even sell them eventually, and to other students as well if he has the time and manpower for it.

He seemed to like the idea so far, and he said he'd be interested to pursue it and ask for further consultation down the road. I asked him why he didn't just collaborate with his Prefect, especially if it would give funds to their dorm as well. Jade said that his Prefect is too… carefree for his liking."

"... Huh. Interesting," Jamil mutters. This is the first he's ever heard of Jade's own hobbies. It says a lot that he's willing to consult Azul about it of all people. "Guess he went to you for help then because of your business acumen."

Plus there was cooking once more. Azul really likes the idea of setting up a catering business, even if he seems to deny himself of that.

"Do you guys have any Masterchef programs back in RSA?" Jamil asks.

They've gone past the staircase and are now making their way to the windmills and hilly fields to the west of campus.

"We do," Azul replies. "I joined last year because the theme was baking, and it was something that I didn't have much experience with. It required significantly more precision compared to cooking, and it was quite the fun challenge to tackle. How about you? Have you joined any similar programs here?"

Jamil nods, before gesturing to Ruggie as well. "Both of us, though we joined on different themes. I was doing Seafood and Ruggie dealt with Eggs."

"The best part about those programs is the leftovers people make and leave behind," the hyena grins.

"Most of our ingredients are either locally cultivated," Jamil nods to the windmills and the chicken coop nearby. "Or bought from Mr. S's shop."

"Have you been inside Sam's joint, lil' Viper?" Ruggie asks, noticing how she's looking around the area. "Where did yer teacher even tour you around?"

"We went to Mr. S's, yeah," Najma nods. "And before that, our teacher showed us the different areas where club activities happen. We caught the Equestrian Club in their practice, it was so cool! I wanted to see the Board Game Club, too, but they weren't in their classroom earlier."

"Oh hey, I think they might be there now," Ruggie checks his phone for the time. "I was hanging out with Ortho earlier and he said that he had to get back to Idia because Board Game Club activities would be starting. Whaddaya say, fellow tour guide?" he turns to Jamil. "Should we take lil' Viper out to see the Board Game Club?"

Jamil shrugs. "Fine by me. It's Idia who I worry about. Dunno if his heart can take new strangers."

He leads them over straight to the club room, clearly unbothered by the prospect.

When they arrive, the club members are separated into small groups, playing different board games on tables placed around the classroom.

"Greetings!" Ortho zooms in front of them, hovering and waving his hand as a greeting. "I see we have new visitors!"

"Hey, Ortho," Ruggie gives him a high five. "This is Najma, Jamil's lil' sis. And this is Azul, Jamil's… I dunno."

"I have met Azul Ashengrotto, yes!" Ortho nods enthusiastically. "Hello again!"

"Hello again, Ortho Shroud," Azul smiles.

"Oh neat, you know each other," Ruggie says.

"Whoa, are you a robot?" Najma asks in fascination, looking at Ortho up and down.

"You may call me that, yes," Ortho says. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Najma Viper! Is there any board game you'd like to see?"

"Hmm, do you have mancala here?" Najma looks around.

"Searching the web for information about 'mancala'," Ortho stays still while a series of beeps could be heard somewhere from him. "Information acquired! We don't have that exact game, but we have materials we can use as a passable substitution. Shall we proceed?"

"Heck yeah!" Najma runs off with Ortho to one of the vacant tables.

Idia appears, looking down at his tablet. "Hey Ortho, have you seen the—"

He looks up and sees the three of them. "Eep!" he jumps back, putting up his tablet to hide his face. "It's Mr. Jamil and his handsome love interest from the rival school," he mutters. "Why am I in this scene?" He peeks above his tablet to look at Ruggie. "Why did you bring them here?" he says in distress.

"Showing Jamil's handsome love interest around," Ruggie replies. "Careful, Idia. I might think you're the one crushing on our guest here."

Idia shudders. "N-Not a chance. Sparkly guys and gloomy shut-ins like me don't mix. A-Anyway, now that you've seen the club for yourselves, you can go now, right?"

He looks around, spots Ortho and Najma playing, and groans. "You gotta be kidding me. You're staying, and who's THAT?!"

"My sister," Jamil replies. "Her school is conducting a fieldtrip here today."

Idia shrinks into a crouch so that he won't be seen. "A-Ah… I should've figured. You guys got similar-looking f-faces."

"No, we don't," Jamil frowns, confused. "Anyway, looks like we're gonna be here for a while. Hope you don't mind."

"And what if I do?" Idia stammers.

"We'll stay here longer," Ruggie snickers. "Might as well find ourselves something entertaining to do while we're here."

"Is that The Game of Life?" Azul says with interest, pointing to the open board game at a vacant table.

"Y-Yeah," Idia says. "Do you play that?" he asks in a small voice.

"I used to, but it's been a long time." Azul approaches the table. "May I?"

"Huh? Uh, s-sure," Idia says.

Azul picks up the dice and throws them on the board with a flick of his wrist. Each die lands with the six side facing up.

Azul's face brightens as he chuckles. "Still got it."

"Whoa!" Idia hurries towards Azul, forgetting his shyness for a second. "How'd you do that? That's gotta be luck, right?"

Azul just smiles and picks up the dice again. He throws them, and the sides with the six dots are facing up once more.

"NO WAY!" Idia picks up the dice and inspects them. "Did you rig these? What spell is that?"

Azul chuckles and shakes his head. "I used to play this, and there was a time when I practiced how to throw the dice so that they would land with my desired numbers facing up. It took a long time and a lot of math and wrist cramps, but I eventually figured it out," he says proudly.

Idia's jaw drops as he stares at Azul. "That's like, mega-obsessive geek behavior. You played this game a lot?"

Azul nods. "Indeed. Do you like this game as well? Perhaps we can play some time," he smiles at Idia.

Idia falls quiet, and his face goes red and he scurries away, hiding behind Ruggie with his tablet covering the lower half of his face.

"Th-th-there're other games here," he gestures to the other tables. "If you wanna check out any more," his voice fades out and he shrinks behind Ruggie's shoulder.

"Who do you play these dice games with?" Jamil asks Azul, quirking up an eyebrow. "They must feel like quite the unfortunate sap facing against you."

"Rielle," Azul says. "We discovered this game in our freshman year, and I didn't like that I had so little control over the outcome of the dice. He said that it really is up to chance, and I took that as a challenge," he said smugly.

"Like RSA Rielle?" Idia says in surprise, appearing behind Ruggie. "You just casually play board games with the mega-protagonist crown prince?"

"Not anymore," Azul shrugs. "A mega-protagonist crown prince does get busy with princely duties, and I haven't had much free time as well."

"Then consider this a good opportunity to let loose before it's back to busywork," says Ruggie. "Knowing that the chance and dice games can be rigged crosses them outta the list, what sort of board games do you like to play?"

"Hmm," Azul hums thoughtfully. "I like Clue. And Monopoly. Though both games take a long time to play. How about you two?" he looks at Ruggie and Jamil.

"Eh," Ruggie shrugs. "Board games don't really fill my pocket with pay so I don't really dabble on 'em. I heard some really old ones can fetch ya a pretty penny, though!" His eyes begin to roam the club's belongings with greedy interest.

"Ahem," Jamil gives the hyena a pointed look before glancing back at Azul. "Playing either sounds fine with me. Just so you know, I'm not gonna lose so easily."

A smile pulls at the corner of Azul's lips. "Good, it wouldn't be fun otherwise."

"Ugh," Ruggie makes a disgusted sound. "You two don't mind if I don't join you, right? I don't need to be around all this unresolved sexual tension," he gestures with his hands as if indicating something in the air.

"What are you gonna do, then?" Jamil asks. "Those games work better with more people."

Ruggie shrugs. "I dunno. I'll roam around and see if any game interests me."

He walks away and begins looking at the different games that the club members are playing.

"I've never played mancala before," Azul offers. "From what Najma and Ortho are doing, it looks like it only needs two people. Would you mind teaching me?"

"Oh. Well, sure, if that's what you want," Jamil replies. "Like Ortho said, we have to find some substitutes for it first."

And so they do, cobbling up "shells" with the use of dice and bowls after getting (reluctant) permission from Idia.

From there, Jamil lays down the ground rules and the objective of the game, teaching Azul with a calm demeanor and a small demonstration.

Azul understands the game well enough, and they start playing. As he's moving the makeshift shells around the board, his sleeve hikes up a little and reveals the crescent cuts on his wrist from his fingernails. He notices it—Jamil could tell from how he paused for the briefest second and his eyes widened—and smoothly switches the pieces to his right hand and continues his turn. But that only revealed his blood-tipped fingernails, though the amount of blood was little enough that he doesn't seem to know it was there.

"Have you played this game a lot with your sister?" Azul asks casually.

Jamil goes to tear his gaze away from Azul's hand and musters an answer, voice a little tense.

"Right, um… We'd play every once in a while, but then she'd get fed up with losing all the time and find another game that I'd be unfamiliar with or come up with extra rules in the hopes of giving me a handicap."

From nearby, Najma can be heard yelling out in defeat. "I should've known better than to challenge a robot in a game of strategy!"

"Seriously, what is the appeal of this thing?" Ruggie says, sidling up to a pair of students who were engaging in a battle of chess. "I keep getting roped in to play this only to get my ass beat. Oh shit, your horse is vulnerable to that bishop over there."

"Hey! No backseating!" one of the chess players snarl.

"And it's a knight, not a horse!"

"It's a piece in the shape of a horse, what's it matter?" Ruggie scoffs.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Jamil feels tense as he plays the game with Azul at a quiet pace.

Then, as the merman's fingers cross over to Jamil's side in the middle of his turn, Jamil reaches out and gently takes Azul's hand, bringing his blood-tipped nails under close scrutiny.

His expression is contemplative, before he glances up to meet Azul's gaze and quietly asks, "How're you holding up now?"

Azul tenses up when he realizes what Jamil has been looking at on his fingernails.

He averts his eyes for a moment before meeting Jamil's again with a small smile. "Better now, thank you. I didn't realize I'd…" he nods to his fingernails. "I wasn't aware… Does everyone else know?" he asks quietly.

Jamil's thumb lightly brushes against Azul's knuckle. "Only Ruggie. Can't disguise the smell of blood against a beastman, after all… Are you worried he or I would tell anyone?"

Azul lightly shakes his head. "I’m not. It's just, apart from Rielle, no one has really seen me be… vulnerable like this. I'm not entirely sure how to act… Or how to feel."

"... What are you unsure about?" Jamil asks, trying to be careful in his questions as he lets go of Azul's hand to resume play. He looks around to make sure no one had noticed them pausing and whispering to each other.

Azul takes a breath and continues playing, speaking quietly. "If people's perception of me changed, if they think that I'm not as strong or put-together as they first thought… what then? Will their treatment of me change? And if it does, what do I do?" He sighs. "Anyway, we don't have to talk about it. I appreciate you listening.”

Jamil waits until Azul has finished his turn before starting his. "And... I'll be happy to keep listening. If everything on the other side of this island is becoming too much to bear, you can always find me here. But if you want my two cents on the matter, if people think negatively of you just because you want to be yourself, without the title of advisor or future king or RSA student…"

Jamil finishes the last move of his turn, steady and sure. "... Then those people are not worth keeping around."

Azul pauses and stares at him for a moment, then he nods and looks down at the game as he takes his turn.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Azul gets quiet for a few moments, then adds in a lighter tone, "You know, Jamil, it seems like you're always the one listening to my woes and offering to help. I'd feel more comfortable if I could do something for you in return. So if there's anything you need help with, just let me know," he meets Jamil's gaze.

Jamil tilts his head. "I think you've already been doing plenty of helping on your part. You listened to me just like this the previous times we hung out, so if anything, I'm just following your example. But hey…" He grins. "I'll keep your offer in mind. Here's an idea, if everyone keeps bothering you with expectations over there, just do what I did: go to NRC. Maybe it's not too late for a transfer."

Azul looks surprised, then he blinks at Jamil. "Hm, I'd never considered that before. Although," he smiles in amusement, "some of your schoolmates might be opposed to that idea. I'd only been here for less than a day and your spritely resident was already trying to kick me out."

"Buuuut let's not forget the way people reacted when we came back to the cafeteria," Jamil reminds him. "Whatever happened there, I have it on good assumption that they're not gonna try anything funny again for a while. Come on… You can set up your own catering lounge here and everything, give the cafeteria a run for its money."

Azul stares at Jamil, then he says playfully, "When we first came up on that stage and did the obligatory handshake at the start of the quiz, with your death grip and hardened expression, I never would have thought that you'll be persuading me to spend more time in your vicinity."

"What can I say? You're pretty good at changing minds, Ashengrotto," Jamil chuckles. "And if you can sway us stubborn fools here in NRC, maybe the same can be done for the rest of the people you surround yourself with."

Azul raises his eyebrows and lets out a laugh of disbelief. "And how ever did I change your mind? Did you like the beach cove that much?"

"It was during the cat café that I began to see you in a different light. It's true that you're more pleasant and nicer than the company I keep," Jamil gestures with his head to the situation behind Azul, where Ruggie's running from the chess players after popping a piece in his mouth out of spite, while Idia is crouching under a desk to hide and Ortho's ignoring the ruckus to play a luck-based game with Najma instead. "But I've begun to think that that may not be a bad thing."

He shoots Azul a playful narrowed glare. "Ah, but I still got a reputation to keep here, so they're free to think whatever they like about you and I hanging out together as long as you don't spill how sappy I get when talking with you."

Azul looks down and laughs, his cheeks becoming a bit pink. He clears his throat and looks at Jamil.

"And what reputation is that, Viper? Are you supposed to be an aloof and mysterious figure here?"

"Hah, pretty much. Also clever and capable and composed, but unfortunately, I feel like you've already seen past all of it," Jamil snickers, then glances down at the board, now emptied except for both far ends. "In the meantime, at least you haven't beaten me in this just yet."

"You are clever and capable and composed," Azul says, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think people would stop seeing you that way, no matter who you hang out with."

"But they also think I'm constantly ready to stab someone in the gut if they go so far as to look at me wrong, which I'm perfectly okay with, and yet…" Jamil leans back in his seat, too. "It's gonna be hard maintaining that reputation when your… energy is infectious. When you smile... really smile… how can I not smile along? Now I still haven't decided if it's a virus RSA students carry or… if it's just you bringing that out of me."

Surprise is evident in Azul's eyes, and he's blushing even brighter. He looks down and chuckles shyly. "So you… You really don't mind that people know about us… hanging out?" He looks at Jamil again, and Jamil senses in his tone that he was going to say something other than 'hanging out'.

Jamil's gaze softens. "I had to wrap my head around it for a bit when my own family member started joking around, but… No. No, I don't mind at all."

"Sevens," Idia says in the distance, utterly baffled and muttering to himself. "They've been staring at each other several minutes after their game has already concluded… Can't be me, fr fr."

Azul's posture relaxes and he smiles. "I'm glad you don't. Because… I've recently discovered that there is an aviary in town. And I was wondering… Perhaps you'd like to go there with me?"

Jamil blinks at him, shock blooming on his face.

"Huh? Is this… because of the bird thing I mentioned?"

"Yes," Azul smiles sheepishly. "You're not allowed to keep a pet bird here so I thought, perhaps we could go to them instead. But, it was just an idea, we don't have to, forget I said anything," he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

"Hey, hey, let's do the forgetting once you've actually heard me reject you now," Jamil jokes, knowing full well he'd say the same thing in Azul's shoes. "And there's no rejections from me here. It's, well... I'm definitely looking forward to it." He smiles, both genuinely excited to see birds yet also embarrassed that Azul even bothered to remember and do something to make him happy. "But first, what's your reason for continuing to hang out with me?"

Azul raises an eyebrow. "You don't hear me asking such questions. Even when you've been persuading me to move across the island just to be in the same school as you," he says jokingly.

"Whoa, I didn't say that just because I want to be with you. I was also suggesting it for your own personal interests," Jamil defends, only to realize a moment later that he had just admitted that he wants Azul to transfer to spend more time with him.

Jamil clears his throat. "Besides, I think I already told you that I enjoy your company, so going along with invites like these feels natural, doesn't it?"

"... It does," Azul holds his gaze. "And… I want to keep hanging out with you because…" he shrugs lightly. "You make me really happy. You say that you smile when I smile genuinely, but… you should know that just being with you is enough to make that happen. And I really like seeing your smile, too. It suits you."

…

Jamil tries to keep that steady reassured look on his face, but his darkening cheeks and his fingers itching for his hood gives much away.

"Okay, srsly, guys, no PDA allowed in the Board Game Clubroom. What are you trying to do? Rub it in our faces?" Idia groans, though he's still doing nothing to physically put an end to it. "Also can someone kick Sir Ruggie out already before he starts eating up our game pieces?"

"I'm on it, brother!" Ortho salutes, hovering up and pausing at Azul and Jamil's side. "Will you two be accompanying Mister Ruggie and Miss Najma in their departure?"

"Oh, we could, yes," Azul says. "We've completed our game, after all." He looks at Jamil. "Shall we go with them?"

Jamil nods and begins to stand. "All right, let's."

He glances out to the windows. "Are you needed back at RSA anytime soon?"

Azul shakes his head. "No. I have until 5 PM until I need to go back. How about you? Do you have any plans since today is a half day for you?"

"Nah," Jamil says. "My plans had been to meet up with you, which now evolved into me being an advanced tour guide."

As they exit the room, much to the club members' relief, he then turns to his companions and asks, "So, where do the visitors wanna go next?"

"Can we look at the horses again?" Najma asks excitedly.

"Club activities are prolly done now," Ruggie says. "But we can still go to the stables."

Najma turns to Jamil with a hopeful grin. "Do you think I can ride a horse?"

Jamil gives her a stern look but sighs. "I suppose… if the club leader is still there, then we can try to ask for permission, but no promises."

"You wanna ride horses, lil' Viper?" Ruggie asks, acting more like a friendlier big brother than Jamil does. "What about our RSA buddy over here?"

"I do have some training in horse-riding," Azul adjusts his glasses. "Though I am a tad concerned that I might not be wearing proper riding clothes."

"Don't sweat it, man," Ruggie says. "You're fine. Let's go!"

They continue to walk under the hot afternoon sun, passing by students having picnics, jogging, or making their way to club activities.

Ruggie turns to Jamil as they're nearing the field. "You gonna want a horse, Jamil?"

"I'm not really interested in riding horses," Jamil muttered. "But I can at least be on standby to babysit these two if I have to. How about you?"

"Nah, I'll just be hanging around. Oh look Riddle's here," Ruggie says when they reach the stables. "Hey, Riddle!"

Riddle turns around from brushing his horse. "Ruggie, Jamil. What brings you here?" he glances at their two friends.

"Azul Ashengrotto?" Riddle says in mild surprise, before turning to Najma. "And I'm guessing you are Jamil's relative? I must say you're quite the interesting group," he says to Jamil.

Jamil eyes Riddle, noting his calmer demeanor compared to how he normally had been until recently.

He had always wondered how that came to be. There were rumors about it, too, but... nothing concrete.

"Hello, Riddle," Jamil greeted. "My sister and Azul are here to visit and, well... I apologize for the trouble, but—"

Najma hops up the fence a little to take a closer look at the horses, starry-eyed. "Can I ride on one of these things, Mister Riddle?"

"I do have the authority to grant you permission, but…" he furrows his eyebrows in thought then looks at all of them. "Do you all want to ride a horse? Do any of you have any experience or training at all?"

"I ain't riding, don't worry," Ruggie says. "Just here to chaperone, sir."

"I've had some experience in Knight Class," Azul says.

"Night class?" Ruggie asks in confusion. "Your evening classes teach you horse-riding?"

"Not 'night' as in 'evening'," Riddle frowns in exasperation. "Royal Sword Academy has a class elective where they can train to be a knight." He turns to Jamil. "Do you and your sister have any sort of training?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it training, but I do have experience," Jamil replies. "I'm also here to chaperone, though. It's Najma who wants to try."

"I dunno how to ride horses just yet," the girl shakes her head. "But I can start learning! Can you teach me, Mister Riddle?"

Riddle raises an eyebrow, and there's something that almost looks like a smile on his face. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I can only teach you for no longer than 20 minutes, all right? I have other duties to attend to."

"Got it, Mister Riddle! Thank you!" Najma beams.

"And you, Azul? Would I be correct to assume you do not need any guidance?" Riddle asks him.

Azul smiles politely. "Indeed. I shall not be doing anything complex nor dangerous. I can assure you that I will keep the horse safe. And I would not want to take any time away from Najma's training."

Riddle nods. "Very well. If you do happen to need any guidance, perhaps you can ask Jamil, seeing as he has some knowledge of it as well."

Jamil notices how Riddle takes note of Azul's NRC blazer. Riddle looks at Jamil curiously, then turns to Najma.

"Miss Viper, if you'll follow me," Riddle leads her to one of the horses and explains that it's one of the calmest and most suited for beginners.

"Riddle's in a good mood today," Ruggie says. "Imma go ask him if he'll tip me if I clean up here and brush the horses," he jogs over to Riddle and Najma.

Jamil watches Ruggie trot away before glancing back at Azul.

"So… Knight classes, huh? Is that a mandatory part of the curriculum?"

"No," Azul shakes his head. "It's an elective, but I was expected to take it as one of Rielle's close friends. Those who surround him must be able to protect him and themselves to some degree."

Azul starts walking and looking at the horses. "Are you sure you won't be riding? What will you be doing in the meantime?"

"Watching you and Najma ride around. It's fine… Why? Do you want me to ride along?" Jamil asks, leaning against the fence.

"It’s up to you," Azul stops in front of a brown and white stallion. "I'm just not sure if I'm comfortable with the thought that I'm the one who asked you to hang out today and yet you'll merely be standing around and, in your own words, babysitting," Azul smiles at him. "I want you to have fun as well."

"Hmm… Would you show me some stuff you learned from Knight Class if I join in?"

Azul's looks caught off-guard. "It's not nearly as cool as you might think, I warn you. It might not be so different from what you've already learned as a retainer."

Jamil playfully sighs, glancing away. "Then it looks like I must continue to hone my retainer skills by keeping a watchful eye over you and Najma from here…"

"Oh come now, that's not what I meant," Azul says gently, stepping in front of Jamil. "I was just worried you'll get bored if I just prattle on about things you might already know."

Jamil looks at him once more. "Let me be the judge of that.” A part of him feels sure much of Azul's prattling wouldn't bore him, anyway. "Shall we get ourselves some horses, then?"

Azul smiles. "We shall."

After readying their horses, they mount them and begin at a trot across the hill.

Azul tells Jamil about the proper ways to hold the reins and about encouraging the horse to move or stop without hurting it or making it feel tense. Jamil already knows about most of it, as Azul had guessed, but it was a nice refresher, and nicer to listen to Azul explain it.

"Usually the basics end there," Azul says. "But in RSA, we must also learn to wield at least one weapon or shield while on a moving horse."

Azul lets go of the reins with one hand and raises his Magic Pen to demonstrate. "It's a little trickier to keep one's balance when holding something heavy–though we don't have anything like that right now so I'm just using my pen as a stand-in. A more advanced lesson is learning how to accurately shoot a bow and arrow from a moving horse. I never quite learned that one," Azul says in amusement.

"Interesting . . ." Jamil attempts to picture Azul wielding a weapon to battle. It's a strange image, but still rather intriguing. "Are people like Rielle also participating in this elective, too?"

Azul nods. "Our professors in that class have higher expectations from nobility, which is saying a lot considering their expectations for the rest of us already. Though I don't envy Rielle his more rigorous training, he does make for a rather formidable sparring partner. "

"It really does sound like training for knights," Jamil commented. "Have you guys ever been told what it was all for? If it were me, I'd suspect there to be something afoot."

"Rielle is a crown prince," Azul begins. "For people like him, it's to prepare him in case he would need to fight in actual battles for his kingdom. For people like me–those who are expected to always accompany nobility–it's so we would be able to defend them in case of an assassination attempt or any other attack. Then there are those who aspire to be knights in the future. If they receive good marks in that class, it would significantly help their applications after graduation."

To aspire for a job Jamil had been trying to get out of sounds absurd. If he ever finds those hopefuls, he'd tell them they could just swap positions. That way, everyone would be happy.

Now that he thinks about it, they remind him of that First Year, Sebek Zigvolt. Completely wild.

"So someone told you to take the elective because you were Rielle's friend?"

Azul averts his eyes and looks straight ahead. "More like they all assumed I would take it because I'm Rielle's closest friend. His father was looking forward to the both of us going to RSA, saying that the Knight Class there would be very useful to us. Most of our professors said the same thing in our first week at RSA."

Jamil gave him an unimpressed look. "... So you took it."

Azul smiles sadly, keeping his eyes on the horizon. "There is no need to sound so disappointed, Jamil. I know what I did." Then his smile changes into a friendlier one, and his voice sounds upbeat when he speaks. "Come on, I'll race you to the top of that hill. Hiyah!" he snaps the reins, digs his heels into the horse's sides, and it gallops away.

Jamil sighs and speeds along after him, taking in the breeze as he watches Azul ahead.

He supposes there's little he can do considering this is the life his friend chose.

But it's still frustrating watching him just accept it lying down.

He spurs his horse onward to keep a steady pace with Azul's, making sure not to lag too far behind but not close enough to make the other speed faster.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, Azul doesn't slow down. He turns his horse around and veers towards the obstacle course that the Equestrian Club uses for their activities.

His jaw is set and there's an intensity in his eyes as he glares ahead, leaning forward on his horse and speeding up.

Azul reaches the first hurdle, and the stallion clears it easily. They go through the course, Azul going for the more advanced hurdles, the horse leaping higher and farther, Azul ducking and dodging the wooden planks.

Jamil stays close by, briefly figuring that he doesn't want to risk the hurdles if he doesn't know how capable his horse is.

But then he manages to get a brief glance at Azul's expression, and wordlessly, he urges his steed to go for it. He's not going to let Azul take the win that easily.

Jamil's horse clears the hurdles, though the blinding glare of the sun proves to be a challenge at some points. Fortunately, the wind is refreshing enough that he can keep his focus.

As he catches up to Azul at the end of the course, he sees him clutching the reins so tightly that his knuckles have gone pale. His head is bowed down and his eyes are closed as he breathes heavily.

The horse is just standing now, but it keeps shifting on its hooves restlessly, as if sensing its rider's tension.

Jamil slows his horse down, eyeing both the rider and steed ahead of him to spot anything off. Are they injured?

"What's wrong?"

As he walks closer, he doesn't see any injuries on either of them, but Azul isn't responding, his forehead beaded with sweat.

Azul takes a sharp intake of breath and his eyes fly open, only for them to roll back in his head as his body slumps, and he begins to slide off the horse.

"Whoa!" Jamil hisses, dashing forth to catch him before he completely slid out. "Azul!?"

Jamil has one hand around Azul’s shoulders while he leans limply against Jamil’s chest, remaining seated on his own horse.

It's difficult having to calm both horses at once, but Jamil isn't a stranger to calming down animals.

Hooves sounded in the distance, and Jamil looks to see Riddle and Najma on horses quickly approaching them.

"What happened?" Riddle asks when they reach them, his eyes falling on Azul’s unconscious form against Jamil. "Let's set him on the ground, we can't risk him falling off and breaking his neck."

Riddle takes out his Magic Pen and gently levitates Azul and places him on the grass.

Ruggie runs up to them, holding the brush that he’s been using for the horses. "Whoa! What happened to him?"

"Is he injured?" Najma asks worriedly from her horse.

Jamil hops off his own horse and states, "Stand back" as he tries to figure out what's wrong.

Azul's pulse is racing, and his skin is feverish to the touch. At the very least, Jamil doesn't see any cuts or bruises.

Then Azul's eyes flutter open, and his face cringes as he puts a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. "What happened?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"A heat stroke, maybe," Jamil mutters, moving to shade Azul from the sun shining overhead. Despite his worry, he maintains a calm composure. "How're you feeling? Can you sit?"

"Were you not aware you were feeling unwell before you decided to ride a horse?" Riddle asks, frowning.

Azul sits up with a grunt. "I wasn't feeling unwell at all. Though perhaps it wasn't a good idea to exert myself so much on a hot day without wearing breathable clothing. Merfolk don't exactly thrive under the sun."

He glances up in confusion. "Isn't it raining, though? I thought I heard something… dripping…" he closes his eyes and shakes his head as if to clear it, then opens his eyes again. "Never mind. I must have imagined it."

Riddle tenses up at Azul's remark.

Ruggie suddenly kneels down next to Azul. "You haven't been using your magic just now, have you? Where's your Magic Pen?" he asks, almost in a panic.

Azul furrows his eyebrows and shows his pen to Ruggie. "I haven't been using my magic. Why?"

Ruggie inspects the magestone on Azul’s pen, then sighs in relief. He falls silent, shakes his head, and stands up again beside Riddle while averting his eyes.

Riddle gives Ruggie a curious look, his frown deepening. He turns to Azul.

"We should have you checked at the infirmary. As the person who gave you permission to get a horse and use this area for riding, this is my responsibility. I shall return Najma’s horse to the stables and then we shall head out.” Riddle is looking at Azul and Jamil imperatively, letting them know that there is no room for arguments.

Azul sighs. "All right," he stands up and brushes dirt from his clothes.

The Viper siblings throw each other a look of concern before Jamil helps Najma off her horse and they both follow.

"Can we come, too? I was the one who wanted to go horse-riding, after all. If I'd known…" Najma asks, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Oh, it's all right, Young Viper," Azul says with a kind smile, gently patting Najma on the head. "It was my decision to go horse-riding myself, and none of us could have predicted what happened."

"You may come along if you wish," Riddle says. “Just be certain not to get in the way."

Both Vipers nod and they quietly wait for Riddle and Ruggie to return the horses back to their stables before they head to the infirmary.

While they’re all waiting outside for Azul as the nurse had instructed, Riddle approaches Jamil and Najma, looking at the latter.

"Najma, Azul would need to be sufficiently hydrated. Would you go to the vending machine out in the corridor and buy him two cold bottles of water? You may get whatever food or drink you want as well," he hands Najma some thaumarks.

Najma straightens up and accepts the money, nodding with a determined look on her face. "Yes, Mr. Riddle!" She runs off.

Riddle watches her disappear around the corner before turning to Jamil.

"What exactly happened before he fainted?" Riddle asks, looking troubled.

Jamil looks down the hall where his sister had run off, then he turns to Riddle. "He got really into his horse-riding, as far as I can tell. He just looks like he overexerted himself, though it was pretty sudden.” He notices the crease between Riddle’s eyebrows, the worried look on his normally composed features. “You know something, don't you?"

Riddle purses his lips. "Were you two talking about anything in particular before he started on the obstacle course? I saw that he had done even the advanced hurdles."

Jamil wonders if it was wise to divulge to others something so personal to Azul, so he decides to be vague. "If you want details, you may have to ask him, but… We did have a conversation about his… complicated feelings over his situation as an RSA student."

The frown on Riddle's face remains. He turns to Ruggie, who is leaning against the wall a little far from them, lost in thought.

"Ruggie."

Ruggie startles at Riddle's voice, then he walks over to them. "Yeah?"

Riddle looks at Ruggie, as if taking the time to weigh his words before saying them. "Why did you ask Azul if he had been using his magic?"

Ruggie looks down and shifts on his feet. "I dunno…" he mumbles.

"You're suspecting the same thing, aren't you?" Riddle says, impatience coloring his voice.

Ruggie winces as if Riddle had shouted at him, even though the Prefect had maintained his calm volume.

"I could be wrong," Ruggie says uneasily. "It was just the first thing that came to mind, that's all. Guess I'm still a little paranoid…" he rubs the bandages on his arm.

Riddle sighs and shakes his head. "This isn't good at all," he mutters.

"What? What're you both on about?" Jamil asks, glancing back and forth between the two before eyeing Ruggie's injured arm. "Wait… You're not saying this is related to… There's no way."

Riddle raises an eyebrow at him. "'No way'? Let me remind you that Overblots are supposed to be extremely rare, and yet we've had two already happen in this school in less than three months. You're not a fool, Jamil; you must have heard the rumors and pieced them together. This mindset of 'there's no way' is what has left us all ill-prepared in the first place."

Riddle starts to pace the floor, muttering. "The Headmage really should be doing something more about this…"

Ruggie snorts. "Crowley? Yeah, good luck relying on that guy for anything."

Jamil stares at Riddle. "Then it's true. You went through an Overblot, too… Wait, but what makes you think Azul's in danger of the same thing?" he points out. "Did you or Leona have fainting episodes, too?"

Riddle stops pacing in front of Jamil. "Indeed, it's true," he says grimly. "But I don't know Azul Ashengrotto well enough to judge if he's about to go through the same thing. I didn't have fainting spells, but nearing my Overblot, there were moments when… I felt myself slipping away. And then the dripping sound…" Riddle looks away, his face strained from the memories.

"It was the same thing for Leona," Ruggie mumbles. "I dunno if he heard any dripping sound, but whenever he got too upset about having to defeat Malleus, it's like he turned into a different person. He's always been a pain in the ass and his snarls are practically a part of his personality, but leading up to his Overblot, sometimes it's like he lost control of himself. It wasn't loud or anything, and I don't think anyone else noticed. But he was… different." Ruggie shakes his head. "I can't explain it."

"It's the conflict," Riddle says, his voice quiet. "There were times when I could feel the darkness growing within me. I had to fight it with every ounce of my being, and as we all know, I didn't entirely succeed…" he looks down at his hand, a distant look in his eyes. He suddenly looks up at Jamil. "In the moments before he fainted, what was Azul like?"

Jamil furrows his eyebrows in thought. The sad smile, followed by the intense (frustrated?) look in Azul's eyes. "Azul's usually what you'd expect from an RSA student: pleasant, polite, competent... But for such a capable guy, he seems to carry a sense of... resignation when it comes to his future. People expect a lot out of him, most of which I suspect he doesn't wanna do at all, and he gets a bit more morose whenever he's reminded of it."

Riddle and Ruggie exchange worried glances.

"Damn," Ruggie says to no one in particular. "That sounds awfully familiar, don't it?"

"Jamil," Riddle says urgently. "Right before he fainted, did Azul seem uncharacteristically angry or frustrated? How was he in his last few seconds of consciousness?"

"It was hard to say since he was riding ahead of me, but in the few moments I did catch a glimpse of him, I suppose he did seem a little intense. I thought he was just determined to win." Jamil responds. "Then when I was heading over, he looked like he was concentrating on something, since he was tense and had his eyes closed. Then he gasped and fainted. Does that mean anything? I figured he was getting dizzy at the time."

"Tense and concentrating?" Ruggie looks at Riddle and Jamil in turn. "Like the conflict that Riddle mentioned?"

"He could just be getting dizzy," Riddle frowns, then shakes his head in defeat. "I don't know. It's extremely difficult to determine these things, given the unfortunate lack of research on the subject. It would be better if we could also speak to Leona about this, but I doubt he would be so inclined to discuss the subject."

Riddle looks at Jamil. "To be on the safe side, do what you can to see to it that Azul doesn't repress his negative feelings so much. He must be able to talk about them and accept them. Letting such feelings fester will not be good for him, regardless of an Overblot."

"Wait," Ruggie says. "Only powerful mages are in danger of Overblotting, right? Because of how much magic they can produce? Is Azul that powerful?" he asks Jamil.

Jamil frowns. Azul's smart and strong, but Jamil can't say he's seen much of his powers firsthand to conclude anything concrete.

"I think you're better off asking the Leech twins or Prince Rielle. They have known the guy much longer, and the twins told me that Azul had a magic contract business when they were younger."

The sound of footsteps approaches, and Najma appears, holding a bag of drinks.

"I used my money for the others, Mr. Riddle," she says as she hands bottled drinks to all of them and returns some change of thaumarks to Riddle. "How's Mr. Azul?"

The door to the infirmary opens. "Better now, thank you," Azul says with a small smile, closing the door behind him. "It seems like it really was just exhaustion and the heat. I hope I didn't worry you too much.”

Jamil searches Azul's face for any sort of fabrication. He doesn't seem like he's lying, though his eyes look tired.

Then Jamil glances at Riddle and Ruggie, gauging their reactions. Are they going to tell him?

"Hey, I'm glad you're okay, Azul!" Ruggie says. "Welp, hate to have to end it on this note, but I got some chores to do at Savanaclaw, so, see ya!" he waves at them and jogs away.

Riddle straightens up and smiles at Azul. "Indeed, I am glad to see that you are well. I must get back to my dorm now. It was nice to have made your acquaintance, Azul Ashengrotto. Najma has purchased drinks for you to stay hydrated," he gestures to Najma. "Until next time," he nods to Azul and turns to leave.

Azul nods and smiles back, and turns to Najma for the drink.

Riddle pulls Jamil aside. "He's your friend," he says quietly. "You decide what to tell him.” then he leaves without another word.

"Me?" Jamil mumbles in surprise. They were the ones who saw the signs to begin with. Why're they dumping the responsibility on his shoulders?

He huffs in troubled exasperation, before turning to Azul and Najma.

"... Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Azul nods. "I am. I hope I didn't put too much of a damper on the hangout."

"Not at all!" Najma says reassuringly. "I need to go too, because my teacher is looking for me. One of my classmates just texted," she holds up her phone. "Are you really okay now, Mr. Azul?"

"Yes, Miss Najma. It was nice to have met you today." Azul says, smiling. "Take care in going back to your classmates."

Najma turns to Jamil. "Will you be okay?" she casts a sideways glance at Azul.

"Obviously," Jamil utters. "I'm your big brother, aren't I? I'd be setting a bad example otherwise. Now run along and don't get yourself into trouble."

"No promises," Najma grins and runs off.

"We still have some time," Azul says. "Any other places you wanna show me?" he smiles.

"I'm thinking we should inform one of your friends in RSA about what happened so that there's someone else there who can monitor you and do follow-ups, just to be safe," Jamil replies. "I'm surprised you still want to walk around after what happened."

Azul furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "It was just exhaustion, wasn't it? It was my fault for going through that obstacle course in such restricting clothing," he shakes his head. "Oh, speaking of which, perhaps you can direct me to your laundry room? I dirtied your blazer from when I was lying down on the grass.”

Jamil shakes his head. "There's no need. I can have that washed myself. More importantly, it's better to be safe than sorry when it comes to stuff like this. What if it's got something to do with your transition into a human? Or maybe you've been lacking in sleep or food or water. What's wrong with having a friend or two keep an eye on you to make sure no further symptoms occur?"

Azul looks caught off-guard by Jamil’s remarks. "All right, then perhaps we can find a place to just sit, and you can tell me what exactly happened? I'm still a little confused…"

"How much can you recall?" Jamil asks as he leads Azul to a bench by the courtyard.

"I remember leading my horse to the top of the hill," Azul says as they sit down. "Then going through the obstacle course…?" he frowns, as if suddenly uncertain. Then something else mixes with the confusion in his expression. Apprehension? Fear?

"Hey," Jamil softly calls out to him through what he can only imagine is the darkness in his head. He reaches out to brush his hand against the other boy's fingers, holding onto them. "Talk to me. It's okay."

Azul turns to him, his tense posture relaxing gradually.

He shakes his head in confusion and looks down. "I remember being upset… at our conversation about the Knight Class. And then I was… angry? I only remember bits and pieces of the obstacle course, I don't even entirely recall deciding to go there…" his voice fades out into a whisper.

He falls quiet for a moment, looking more and more troubled. "I'd never felt such anger before, the selfish kind that urged me to do whatever I wanted, without thought for anyone else. Normally I would have asked Riddle for permission before using the obstacle course. I could have hurt the horse, too." He looks at Jamil. "How did I get on the ground? Did I fall off?"

"I caught you before you could," Jamil mumbles. "Riddle used magic to set you down after.”

"Oh, thank you. I should have thanked Riddle as well," Azul says, glancing at the direction of the infirmary before turning back to Jamil.

“You looked feverish, like you were having a nightmare…” Jamil continues. “Do you know what or who you were angry towards?"

"I don't remember why I was angry… What do you think is happening? Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Azul's eyes are looking at him with worry.

Jamil has the sense that Azul is used to always understanding everything, and this unknown situation is scaring him.

He really wishes that the ones who actually went through the experience were here. They would have explained it much better than he can.

"I don't know myself, but Riddle and Ruggie seem to recognize the signs. They think you're accumulating Blot at an unexpected rate. Ruggie was wondering if you've been using a lot of magic recently, while Riddle thinks it's got something to do with your psyche." The images of sad smiles and nails dug into skin appear Jamil’s mind. "Azul... you're more upset about your situation than you let on, aren't you?"

Azul looks at him in confusion. "My situation? What do you mean? And Blot accumulation? We have our Magic Pens to control such things, right? An Overblot hasn't been heard of in centuries."

Jamil lets out a humorless laugh. "You can say that to Riddle and Ruggie's faces. I wasn't around when it happened but it occurred to Riddle himself while a friend of Ruggie's Overblotted a few weeks later. You have to take it seriously. Those injuries on Ruggie's arm hadn't just come from a random accident and so far we've been lucky there's been no casualties yet. We're not gonna start now."

"WHAT!?" Azul's eyes widen in shock. "Two Overblots in the span of mere weeks? What did Sir Crowley do?"

Jamil pauses before he shrugs. "I don't know. As far as I was concerned, those incidents had only been rumors until they confirmed it to me personally because they were worried about you."

Azul just stares at him in surprise. Then he blinks a few times. "I see. So they both think I might be having symptoms of an impending Overblot?" he chews his lower lip in worry. "Can you ask Riddle Rosehearts if I can have his contact information? I'd like to speak with him further about it in the future."

"All right," Jamil takes his phone out. It's funny; he's had Riddle’s number since they became fellow Prefects, but he's never found reason to use it until now. He texts the other Prefect for permission to forward his number to Azul. Then he glances up at the merman. "So… Do you think their worries hold any sort of merit, or..?"

"I'm not sure," Azul says. "I'd never known anyone who has Overblotted before, and I haven't done any research about it. It still baffles me that your Headmage hasn't seem to have done anything."

Azul frowns and lowers his voice. "Now that I think about it, he was the one who had started the anger I'd been feeling today." He looks at Jamil then hurriedly says, "Oh, I apologize! I didn't mean to speak ill of your Headmage. It's just that… I think I had started to feel the… darkness… after all the things he said at the cafeteria."

"Feel free to speak ill of him as much as you like," Jamil responds. "It's refreshing to see someone so innocent understand how our Headmage's actually like. More importantly, that's the thing, isn't it? He may have said all that and unknowingly upset you, but the fact that it upset you to begin with means that this is going back a long way. I'm willing to bet Crowley's not the first person to tell you those things and he probably won't be the last."

Azul averts his eyes. "Yes. But at present, I don't see what I can do about it." He looks at Jamil again. "Are you sure this is how you'd like for us to spend our time together? I don't want to burden you with my worries."

"I was the one who asked, right?" Jamil says, reclining into as comfortable a position as he can get. "Sometimes you just gotta vent it out, and I'm pretty sure you dealt with my burdens the past few times we were together."

For the first time in a long while, Azul smiles. It's a small one, but it's not sad or resigned, and it actually reaches his eyes. He sighs. "I'm not even sure where to begin, it feels like everyone has had these expectations from me for as long as I can remember. And I know it's likely just as hard for Rielle, that's why I do stay by his side whenever I can. Why I take the Knight Class, why I'm not entirely opposed to being his advisor in the future. Ever since we were children, we've been each other's breathing room. We always knew that the other would accept us for who we are no matter what everyone else expects. I don't want to just leave him alone to deal with all of that." Azul looks down.

Jamil listens, quiet. ".... Does that mean Rielle knows about your frustrations regarding this situation, too? Or did you keep that one secret because you wanted to spare his feelings?"

Azul is silent for a moment. "I don't know how to tell him," he mutters. "I don't want him to blame himself, he already has a lot to deal with. It's easier for me to get out of RSA and find somewhere else to breathe like today. He doesn't have such a luxury. He's even busier these days with the dance coming up next week."

"But he's your friend, isn't he? Wouldn't he want to know if he or his situation is causing you distress, too?" Jamil points out.

Azul looks at him curiously. "Are you always this emotionally mature? Then why do you claim that your schoolmates see you as someone who would stab a person in the gut for looking at you the wrong way?" he says playfully.

"Because I would," Jamil hums nonchalantly. It's unclear whether he means it or not. "If you want, I can start doing that to the next 'Crowley' that tries to tell you who you have to be. Sorcerer knows I already hear enough of that spiel from the grown-ups back home."

Azul chuckles. "I must say, no one has ever offered to stab anyone for me. And, interestingly, it's one of the nicest things that someone has ever said to me. You really are special, Jamil Viper," he gazes right into Jamil's eyes.

Jamil seems to flinch in surprise at the compliment before awkwardly looking away. "... We're getting off-track. What will you do now that you're aware of the danger?"

Azul sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "The first thing to do would be to speak to Rielle. Any decision I make would affect him." He glances at his watch. "And I must be getting back to RSA now."

He takes off Jamil’s blazer and hands it to him, smiling. "Thank you for today, Jamil. It didn't quite go as either of us expected but… I'm glad you don't mind."

Jamil shakes his head as he takes his blazer. "It's all right, I…"

I'm just worried about you.

"... I just hope you look after yourself better, even if it means being selfish. Don't be a stranger now. You can always hit me up with a text. When you do, we can make up for it next time."

"I look forward to it." Azul stands up. "After all, I still have to get my revenge on you at mancala," he smiles playfully.

"And you have to apologize to the horse you rode for fainting on him without warning." Jamil stands up in succession. "I'll see you to the gate, at least. Come on."

When they reach the gate, Azul turns to Jamil.

"I'll be busy this week because of the Autumn Dance preparations. The next time we'll be seeing each other would most likely be at the dance itself on Saturday. But if you wanna talk, you can always send me a message."

Jamil nods. "The same offer extends to you. It was nice seeing you, Azul..." he says, but he still has a worried look in his eyes. "Take care, all right? Don't let everyone else tell you who you are."

A smile pulls at the corner of Azul's lips, and he tilts his head curiously at Jamil. "How do you feel about hugs?"

Jamil tenses up. "I'm… not really used to physical affection. That's more Najma and Kalim's thing."

Azul nods and smiles in understanding. "I'll keep that in mind. See you at the Autumn Dance, Jamil."

He turns around and walks away.

Jamil watches his slowly retreating form, knowing there's a part of him that wants to tug Azul back and embrace him.

But he hesitates.

And then the moment is gone.

"... See you at the Autumn Dance."

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's been reading this lil' AU of ours! Feel free to let us know what you think in the comments! We'd love to hear your thoughts ^_^

<- Chapter 3

Chapter 5 ->

(Masterlist)

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ikeromantic · 5 months

Text

Alice in College pt 4

An IkeRev Central characters AU! Written for my IkeRev 1K Celebration, a boarding school AU was the poll winner. Approx. 3800 words. 4/6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“I am an idiot. I always give myself very good advice but do I take it? Nooooo . . .” Alice stood in the empty dining hall, wondering again why she’d decided to come. The reason was simple. Curiosity. But on balance, it wasn’t exactly a great reason, or even a good one.

The door swung open, and Alice startled. “Da- oh.” It wasn’t Dalim standing there, but some stranger. A student she had not met. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair and wide, grey eyes like a stormclouds. Oddly enough, he had a similarity to the kid Blanc and Loki hung out with, right down to wearing a matching top hat.

“You.” The guy crossed his arms. “You do realize dinner was over an hour ago?”

“Umm. Yes?” She frowned. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Alice.”

“And I don’t have time to introduce myself to an idiot.” He looked around. “So. Why are you here after hours? It’s against the rules.”

Alice sighed. “I’m waiting on a friend. But if you’re going to tattle on me, I can just leave now.”

He held up a hand. “I didn’t say I was going to tell on you. Just be careful. There are worse things than detention with Mousse.”

“What, like Dean will turn me into a frog for a year?” She grinned.

“Dean won’t, no. But he isn’t the one in charge.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “People have gone missing here. Or died. People like you.”

Alice felt a flutter of fear in her belly, but didn’t want to let him know he’d scored a point. “Yeah, well, if it’s so scary, what are you doing here after hours? You could be in danger too.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Me? No. I’ll be fine. I’ve got defenses. But you? You should stay where it’s safe. Where the lights are on and the rest of the students hang out.”

“Look, I’m not going to let you scare me. I’m not defenseless either. I know how to protect myself.” Alice tried not to think back on London and the times she ducked into a shop or ran home to get there before dark. She’d never been very brave, but she wanted to be.

“Your head really is full of hot air, like a balloon.” He took a long breath, clearly not buying her bravado. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a powder compact or small mirror. “If you aren’t going to be sensible, then take this.” He handed it to her. “If someone - or something - bothers you, just point it at them and twist.”

Alice looked down at the thing uncertainly. “What does it do? I don’t want to hurt anyone . . .”

“It puts them to sleep. What did you think?” He snorted. “You really are such a dummy.”

“And you’re mean and rude, so I think between the two of us, I’ve got it better.” Alice stuck her tongue out at him.

“Pfft, and people think I’m a kid?” He started laughing.

Alice couldn’t believe anyone would confuse him for a child, even if he slung insults like one. “Anyway, thanks for the - the thingamajig.” She pocketed it.

“I haven’t named it yet, but I was thinking about calling it a sleep stick. Catchy, right? It’s a prototype, so be careful with it. And with yourself.” He added the last bit in a quiet voice, his expression going serious. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alice. And don’t forget. You owe me one now.”

“Hey! I don’t owe you anything! If it’s like that, take your - hey!” Alice called after him, but the guy was gone. And he hadn’t even told her his name. “What a weirdo.”

“The school is full of them,” said a voice just behind her.

Alice leapt and spun, her heart hammering in her chest. She held the sleep stick out like a tiny baton.

Dalim grinned. “Whatcha going to do with that, princess? I’m not in the mood for a nap.” His smile hinted at all kinds of things he was in the mood for.

Alice lowered her odd little weapon and tucked it into a pocket. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people. And you should stop calling me princess. You know my name.”

“Yeah, but you’re too beautiful for such a simple name. Calling you princess is the least I can do to respect your charms.” He said all this with a straight face, and every word of it put another degree of heat into Alice’s inflamed cheeks.

“You can stop flirting with me too. That’s probably the same line you use on every new girl.”

Dalim chuckled. “Only the gorgeous ones.” But he did look somewhat chastened and his smile relaxed into something more natural. “Thanks for meeting me here tonight. I half expected that you wouldn’t show.”

“I shouldn’t have.” Alice frowned at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. “So . . . what are we doing? Nothing against the rules?”

He shrugged. “Not explicitly?” She didn’t say anything to that, so he went on. “I thought we could hang out. And . . . I have some contraband from town.” Dalim’s grin widened. “Amon and I were saving it for a special occasion, but spending time with you is pretty special.”

He was at it again with the cheesy pick-up lines, she thought, but it was kind of endearing. “Alright. But if I get in trouble again, I’m never forgiving you.”

“Understood.”

Dalim led her to the boys’ wing of the school. This was where all the guys bunked in single and double dormitories. Most of the room doors were wide open, with guys shouting to each other across the hall, tossing balls back and forth or shooting each other with paper wads. A couple of people she’d met in class waved at her as they passed.

They stopped at one of the closed doors and Dalim knocked. A moment later, the door opened a crack, and Amon peered out. “There you are.” That was all he said before opening the door just wide enough to let the two of them in.

Amon wasn’t in his hoodie or scarf, just a loose black t-shirt and thin black pajama pants. He gave Alice a thin-lipped smile. “I didn’t think Dalim could talk you into coming.”

“I’m very persuasive,” Dalim laughed. He shut the door behind them as Alice stepped inside and looked around.

She’d expected the room to be about the same size as her own and the ones she’d seen in passing, but it was quite a bit larger. There was room enough for a small, worn leather couch, a bookshelf, the two beds, and a table.

“Corner space,” Dalim said, before she could ask. “Amon’s family pulled some strings for us.”

“Nice.” She sat down on the couch and was surprised when Amon joined her.

He studied her face in silence, as if waiting for her to do something interesting.

Dalim grabbed some glasses and a bottle from a box under his bed. The bottle was smoked glass, and some liquid moved beneath the dark exterior. It was a little bigger than a wine bottle, and similarly corked. “The cups don’t match. Sorry about that, pri- Alice.”

“I’m not fancy.” She averted her gaze from Amon, who was still watching her. “So what is it? What’s in the bottle?”

“Wine bottled from fruit gathered in the magic forest. Grown near naturally occurring magic crystals. They say it has all kinds of extra qualities.” Dalim raised an eyebrow.

Alice peered cautiously at the bottle. Things in Cradle had a habit of being more dangerous than they appeared. “What kinds of things?”

“We’ll have to find out,” Amon answered for Dalim. “It’s our first time trying it too.”

“What he said,” Dalim agreed. He pulled the cork and began to pour. The wine, if that’s what it was, glimmered in the lamplight. It was gold in color, opaque and a little cloudy. The scent was sweet and reminded Alice of roses and honey, an aroma that grew stronger when Dalim handed her a cup.

“To new friendships,” Dalim held up his cup.

“Friendships,” echoed Amon.

Alice clinked her cup against theirs and took a sip. Whatever was in the glass, it wasn’t wine. That was her first thought. Her second was that it was amazing, and her third thought was that she wanted more. The drink tasted like summer felt. Warm and lazy, humming with life and light. It suffused her with a sense of wellbeing and nostalgia.

“Kinda makes me feel like a kid again,” Amon said. He smiled at her again, and this time it didn’t look forced. “Just the good parts.”

Dalim nodded. “Yeah.” He gave Alice a questioning look. “Do you like it?”

“I think so. It’s really odd, but good.” She took another careful sip, wanting to hold onto this strange feeling for as long as she could.

“What does it make you think about?” Amon’s eyes were on her, the strange topaz color shifting just like the cloudy drink in her cup, sparkling in the light.

He was kind of cute, she thought, when he wasn’t scowling. His long, pale hair curled behind his ears, silky and fine. “Ummm. It reminds me of summer? I guess? Warmth and that feeling of just . . . not needing to be anywhere or do anything.”

“I think that’s a good description. It’s warm and sweet. Like a gentle kiss.” Dalim settled on her other side, sandwiching Alice between him and Amon.

She laughed. “There you go again, trying to flirt.”

“I sense it isn’t working.” He sighed.

“Just lay off, Dalim. Let her relax.” Amon leaned back, giving her a little more space on his side.

Alice was silently grateful for his comment as Dalim also leaned back. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Other than flirting with lovely ladies like yourself?” Dalim chuckled. “There are plays, dances, festivals . . . I like to read. And Amon has his experiments.” He shrugged. “If you mean at school, there’s not much. A few clubs, sports.”

“What about you, Alice? What do you do when you’re at leisure?” Amon asked without looking at her. His eyes were unfocused and staring up into the rafters of the high ceiling.

“Well . . . at home I would bake. Or write out recipes I had an idea for. I worked at a pâtissière, so I was always trying to come up with new ideas for sweets we could make.” She sighed. It seemed like ages ago, even if it was only a month. “I miss it sometimes? But I like Cradle. I chose to stay afterall.”

“Hm. Didn’t have anything to go back to?” Amon was paying attention now, his eyes as sharp and cold as gemstones.

“I - well, no. Not really.” She took a breath, wondering how much to share and whether she ought to say anything at all. “I had my job. My boss was very nice. And I had a roommate. But no one I needed to go back to.”

Dalim set a hand on her shoulder, a gentle caress. “That’s awful.”

When she turned to face him, expecting his usual flirty smirk, she was surprised to find an expression of genuine commiseration on his face.

He seemed to realize it and let his hand drop. “It’s just, such a lovely lady deserves better than that. Don’t you think, Amon?”

“Yeah.” Amon was still focused on her, his full attention almost a pressure at her side. “You know, we could be like family. Me and you and Dalim. Friends, anyway. And that’s better than family.” He said the last bit with more passion, a flare of anger burning in the depths of his cold gaze.

“I like to make friends. And you guys seem . . . nice? Nice enough, anyway.” Alice gave him a small smile.

Dalim put a hand to his chest. “All that and I get ‘nice enough’? I am losing my touch.”

“Maybe you are.” Amon threw a pillow at him. “Let’s stop talking about serious stuff and play a game.”

Alice perked up. “I love games! What will we play? Cribbage? Dominoes? I’m pretty good at checkers.”

Dalim and Amon exchanged a look that Alice didn’t catch. There was glee in Amon’s eyes and a certain wariness in his friend’s.

“This is a special Cradle game. It’s played with magic.” Amon slid bonelessly to the floor, his back against the couch now. “We’ll teach you how to play.”

Alice helped herself down as Dalim found a spot nearby. “Ok. So what do we do? How does it work?”

“It’s really easy. I’ll use this magic crystal to make a little ball. And you will use your crystal to catch it and toss it to Dalim.” Amon handed her a small, glowing crystal. “On every pass, we’ll make the ball a little bigger until it pops. Whoever it pops on, loses.”

“Ok. I - I never did anything like that before but I can try.” Alice looked at the magic crystal in her hand. It was smaller than her pinky, and glowed with a faint blue light.

Dalim leaned close. “Don’t worry, it’s not hard. When it’s your turn to catch, I’ll help you.”

Amon gave a shrill laugh. His eyes turned red, like a bloody film drawn over them. The crystal in his hands dimmed for a breath and then a crackling ball of lightning appeared in the air just above it. “Impressed yet, Alice?”

“I am, actually. That is amazing.” She leaned closer and felt the hair prickle at the static surrounding the orb. “Is it safe to touch?”

“You might get a little zap if you. I don’t recommend it,” Dalim put a hand on her arm. When she leaned back, he let go. “So - to play the game, close your eyes.”

Alice did as she was instructed, though she didn’t want to. “And then?”

“Focus on the crystal in your hand. See it in your mind. Feel the pulse of magic in it, constrained by the structure. Eager to be let out.” Dalim’s voice was low and easy.

She tried to feel for the pulse, reaching toward a power she didn’t quite understand. For a long moment, there was nothing but her own racing heartbeat. The crystal was cool in her palm, no different than any pebble she might pick up. A tension built between her eyes, and the mental image she had of the crystal wavered. When it did, she felt the first stirrings of the power within it.

“It hums,” she said softly.

Amon laughed again. “Yeah, it is kind of a hum.”

“You’re doing great, princess. Now hold onto to that feeling, and open your eyes.” Dalim guided her to the next step with practiced ease.

Alice slowly opened her eyes while still clinging to the tuneless hum of the magic crystal. Dalim and Amon swam into view. They were both staring at her.

“You got it,” Dalim smiled. “I can tell because your eyes are as red as Amon’s”

“S-so now what?”

Amon answered. “When I toss this lightning at you, you’re going to reach for it. But you’re going to use the hum you’re feeling in that crystal to reach out, not your hands.” He hunched forward, anticipation in every line of him.

“Ready, princess?” Dalim gestured toward Amon. When he did, the pale-haired boy lifted the ball and lobbed it toward Alice.

Her eyes went wide as she saw the roiling, crackling ball of lightning float through the air toward her. It seemed much larger than it had when it was just sitting above Amon’s hands. Her hair crackled with the static rolling off of it, and her skin prickled uncomfortably. She tried to reach with the hum of the crystal, to stretch out that vibration toward the ball, but the magic didn’t budge.

Alice tried again as the lightning drew ever closer to her. She didn’t want to get a painful shock. Whatever she did, her connection to the crystal snapped, the hum disappeared, and the ball was almost to her. Panicked, Alice threw out a hand. “No!”

The ball of lightning winked out of existence.

Amon and Dalim stared at her, open mouthed.

“W-what just happened?” Alice looked from one to the other.

“I told you she could do it.” Amon grinned widely.

Dalim grimaced. “You broke the spell.”

“Is that bad?”

Amon took her hand. His skin was almost fever hot to the touch, dry, and soft as sin. “It’s fantastic. Truly.” His eyes were ablaze with unexpected passion. “You are the only person I know that can break a spell like that. Not counter it. Not block it. But break it.”

“It’s a power from the Land of Reason. I wasn’t sure you could do it, but Amon thought if we pushed you, you would.” Dalim shrugged. “Good job.” He didn’t sound entirely pleased.

“We should test it,” Amon said, his grin so wide it looked like it must be hurting his cheeks. “Practice with it.” He was positively gleeful, and his mood was catching.

“Yeah! We can see what sort of spells I can break. It’s like my very own super power.” Alice was getting excited now. She’d never had any kind of specialness to her - never excelled in anything. And now she had a special power no one else had. Well, no one in Cradle anyway.

Dalim tugged her hand away from Amon’s grasp. “Sure. But not tonight. We need to plan it out. Figure out what we want to test for, what kind of challenges you need.”

Amon’s gaze narrowed as he looked at his friend, but after a moment he nodded. “Fine. It can wait on proper planning. But let’s not put it off too long. We need to know if we can con- if she can control it at will.”

“And we will. Later.” Dalim stood and helped Alice to her feet. “I think this is enough for tonight.”

She nodded. “I am excited but he’s right. Let’s get together tomorrow and decide what we want to test and how it works. I don’t want to be caught by surprise again. If I’m going to be your guinea pig, I get a vote on what we’re doing.”

Amon scowled, but after a moment, he nodded. “Fine.”

“Great. So we’re all in agreement.” Dalim still held Alice’s hand. “I’ll walk you back to your room, ok?”

“I can get there on my own.” Alice grinned. “Oliver helped me with reading the map, so it’s a lot easier to get around.”

“Oliver, huh?” For a moment his smile fell, then it was right back in place. “Alright. Then I guess this is goodnight, huh?” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the lightest breath of a kiss across her knuckles. “Goodnight princess.”

Alice tried to hide the little shiver he gave her. It was really quite unfair, this flirtation. She liked Dalim, but he was too smooth. Too . . . polished. On the outside, anyway. She felt like there was more, but he hid it under this playful guise. “Goodnight, Dalim. Amon.”

Dalim let her go and waved as she stepped out into the hall. The door closed and she was alone again. Well, as alone as one got in a hall of raucous boys. It was quieter than it had been, but there was still plenty of laughter and chatter as she passed on her way back to the girls’ dorms.

Just as she passed from the well-lit and noisy corridor into the quiet stairwell, Blanc came into view. Alice felt inexplicably glad to see him. There was something about him that put her at ease. “Blanc!”

“Alice.” His gentle smile greeted her enthusiasm. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “I was visiting with some new friends. Amon and Dalim.”

Blanc nodded. “Lovely. I am glad you’re making friends.” He fell into step beside her. “I hope you don’t mind my accompanying you? I am headed in the same direction.”

“I don’t mind at all. I like your company.”

“And I, yours.” His eyes glinted in the low lamp light, reflected flames flickering warmly behind the rectangle of his glasses.

Alice had the most absurd urge to reach out and tuck a strand of his messy, pale hair behind his ear. Such an intimate gesture and yet the feeling between them seemed to welcome it. Still, she kept her hands to herself.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward,” Blanc said after an awkward silence.

“No! No, I said it first. I like that you like me too. Or, my company? You like my company. I like yours. Too. Company. As well.” Alice fell silent again, feeling like an idiot. She was babbling and now Blanc probably thought she was an idiot.

Blanc laughed, a soft breathy sound that made something inside her uncoil pleasantly. A tension she hadn’t even realized she had. “Perhaps I can persuade you, then, to join me for tea? I’d like to enjoy your company even more, if that’s alright.”

“I would like that.” Alice couldn’t read the expression he wore when she said yes. A mix, she thought, of delight and some faint melancholy or regret. She wondered why he held onto that trace of sadness and where it had come from. Blanc was a mystery to her, with his reserved politeness and his warm smiles. She wanted to know everything about him.

“Excellent. Then, instead of supper tomorrow in the dining hall, you and I will adjourn privately for tea. Just the two of us.”

There it was again, she thought. That secretive smile that seemed to promise so much without giving away a thing. The sensual curve of his lips, the slight lift of his brows, and the heat in his rose petal gaze made her skin prickle pleasantly. “Alright. That sounds good. Should I bring something?”

Blanc reached out then, his gloved fingertips almost touching her cheek. “Just your lovely self.”

Alice nodded. Somehow, that almost-touch was more enticing than all of Dalim’s obvious flirtations combined.

The door below them clattered open as a group of students passed through the stairwell and onto another floor. The chatter broke the moment, and Blanc’s hand dropped to his side again. Neither said anything as they made their way into the women’s dormitory. Alice wasn’t sure what to say and Blanc seemed lost in thought.

He stopped at her door and she stood beside him, not really wanting to go in yet, but lacking an excuse to stay and talk.

“I believe this is goodnight,” he said, sounding as reluctant as she felt. “It’s silly, I suppose, but I feel as if I could sit and chat with you for hours. We’ve only really just met and I’m already prepared to talk your ear off.” Blanc gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“I wish you would,” Alice said, and then realized how that sounded. Her cheeks went hot as she tried to find a way to mitigate the damage.

Blanc smiled. “I will see you tomorrow, Alice. Until then.”

She managed a passable goodnight of her own and then went in, not staying to watch him leave.

Part 5

#ikemen revolution #ikerev au #ikerev Oliver #ikerev Dalim #ikerev Amon #ikerev Blanc #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #follower celebration

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illneverbesorry · 30 days

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me - Part 2

Warnings - Swearing, teacher/student relationship

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

________________________________________________

Your cheeks hurt from the smile that had yet to leave your face since returning to Hogwarts, you had dreaded this moment all summer, but sitting here now you were truly happy. You had kept yourself as busy as possible during the long break, between running through the highlands gathering rare ingredients for Mr Pippin to gathering Beasts for Ms Peck. You had no home to go to, an orphan left completely alone after the death of Fig.

Much to your surprise, and the surprise of many of the Professors, he had made you his benefactor in an amendment he made to his will just a few weeks before his sad passing, having no children or other family of his own. It hadn’t been much, a small cottage in a distant village and some savings, but far more than you had ever expected. It was enough to give you a fresh start after you graduate. Maybe he had realised to seriousness and danger of your situation after all.

Sirona took pity on you, allowing you to stay in a small room she had spare at the Three Broomsticks for help in clearing up and chipping in with cooking for the two of you, she’d become a good friend. Sirona had even helped you go through Fig’s belongings and with selling the cottage to a family that needed it. It was too much for you alone and you couldn’t face living there knowing Fig was gone.

Snapping back to reality, you hear your name being called. Looking over your shoulder you see Natty running towards you. You leap from the floor brushing the dust from your legs and meet her in a tight hug.

“It is so good to see you, my friend! I have missed you so”

“I’ve missed you too Natty” you smile pulling away and dragging her towards your group of friends

She tells you all about her trip back home with her mother, and how she was finally able to go to her father’s grave and that it had brought her some peace.

“But how are you Y/n, at the start of summer you seemed so sad?” holding back a grimace at the memories that flood your mind so put on a tight smile.

“I’m doing better Natty, I…wasn’t in a good place but I’m trying to move forward now”

Natty smiles and reaches for you newly styled hair “Yes I can see you have made some changes; it suits you my friend” (deliberately left this vague – imagine a new cut or perhaps a new colour – just different)

You all spent hours talking before heading to the Great Hall for dinner and the sorting ceremony. You could feel Sharp’s eyes burn into you as you sat there smiling and clapping the new students.

After Black’s customary annoyingly long speech your all headed your separate ways to your dorms but before you could leave the Great Hall, Professor Weasley called for you. You follow her to her office, making polite small talk as you walk but you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Now Y/n. I have reviewed your request I received this summer and I must say I was shocked, wanting to drop you NEWT Potions class, especially after getting an O in your Owls it seems to come so naturally to you” She folds her hands calmly over the letter.

“Yes Professor, I did some thinking and…. I just can’t see myself needing it and as I’ve taken on so many other classes….” you hurried for an excuse, in all honesty you hadn’t been expecting to be called out on it like this you’d been expecting an owl in return.

Professor Weasley watched you closely, as if she knew something she couldn’t have possibly known.

“Well, I spoke to your other Professors including Professor Sharp and we are all in agreement that giving how you’re already a year into your NEWT classes and the fact that you caught up so effortlessly your first year with us, we feel you will handle all of your classes perfectly well and succeed in your NEWTs.” She smiled as though she had just solved all of your problems “However Professor Sharp did mention that if you feel you needed the extra help, he’d be very happy to assist you after classes had ended”

You force a smile onto your face, Merlin’s beard did she really need to involve the entire staff? Let alone HIM?! To use a muggle expression, it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ask him for help. You’d rather fail than admit weakness to him. Childish? Maybe, but you had tried to leave the damned class so this could all be avoided.

The next morning you skip breakfast, instead feeling the need to slowly get ready for the day instead of sitting in the loud Hall. You made your way to the library once you’d dressed to meet Natty as you both had a free period. You flop down at the table, all the joy you felt to be back at Hogwarts yesterday gone.

“I take it the meeting with Professor Weasley did not go well?” Natty asks watching you closely

“No, she won’t let me drop potions. I really don’t want to sit that class this year” you sigh, Natty didn’t understand your reasoning as obviously she had no idea about your former relationship.

“I still don’t understand, potions is one of your best subjects. I know Imelda made a few nasty comments ‘Teacher’s pet’ and such but surely that can’t be the reason?” you clench your jaw when Natty mentions Imelda, she was the start of the whispers and snickers that drove a wedge between you and Aesop to begin with. “Did Sharp do something? Say something? My friend, if something happened, if something is wrong, I would have you tell me”

“No Natty, its nothing like that” you try to calm your friends mind “I just wanted to be done with it. But what’s done is done. You’re my partner though, Garreth can sod off and find someone else, you’re going to keep me sane his year”

The joke about Garreth broke the tension and the conversation could move on. You wish you could tell her the truth, you guessed that was always part of the problem, things were always going to be a secret.

Your classes flew by and the final lesson of the day came around far too quickly. Potions.

You skulk into the room and see Natty had already grabbed a desk, you hurry over and take the seat next to her just in time to see Garreth walk up and glare at you. You smirked at him and waved him on, if you were going to have to sit in this room again when it was filled with memories that now cause your heart to ache you were going to do it with one of your best friends by your side.

You hear his footsteps behind you before you hear his voice and your entire demeaner changes. The smiles and giggles gone and in place was a stone face and emotionless expression.

“This term we shall begin with brewing an extremely powerful sleeping draught, Draught of the Living Death, you may begin” his voice and tone still sent shivers up your spine. You tear your eye away from him as he lowers himself into his chair.

You pick up your potions book and begin to pull out your ingredients, you freeze when you see that you lack two of them. “Shit” you mumble, this was not a good start.

“What’s wrong?” Natty whispers pretending to look down at her book

“I don’t have all of the ingredients; I wasn’t expecting to be here I didn’t get them” you sigh rubbing your forehead.

“I’m sorry Y/n I don’t have extras” Natty panicked for you. You squeeze her arm kindly and sit back down closing your book. You get a few frowns and odd looks from a few classmates but ignore them.

You look over at Sharp, knowing he’s been watching you since class began. Holding his gaze firmly you offer no clear explanation for your lack of work.

“Does there seem to be a problem Miss L/n? or do you simply feel like taking a rest in my class?” your eyes burn into his, the class goes deadly silent…. he’s never called you out like this before.

“It seems sir, that I am lacking a few ingredients, since I wasn’t planning on being here, I didn’t collect them”

“I do not allow poor planning as an excuse; you will be completing this potion during detention tomorrow evening when you have bought the ingredients….and that will be 20 house points” murmurs of shock filled the room. He wasn’t even that harsh with Garreth after a bad experiment. “Back to work the rest of you”

You hear a snicker from behind you “Looks like she not Teacher’s Pet now” Imelda laughed to her friend; your blood boiled.

“Shut it Imelda, don’t you have some time trials to beat?” you smirk, knowing that she still had yet to beat your course speeds 2 years on, making her glare at you and mess up the boiling of her potion.

“Miss L/n, I’ll see you after class” Sharp called across the room.

After most of the students had fled the room Natty moved to stand “Shall I wait for you outside?”

“No this could take a while; I’ll meet you in the Great Hall” she nodded and left, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

You watched the door close before getting to your feet and walking confidently over to Sharp’s desk. He annoyingly didn’t even look up; you huffed and cleared your throat only for his to raise his hand silencing you.

Clenching your teeth you try to resist calling him an ass, knowing you’d only have to spend more time in detention with him. After keeping you waiting a few more seconds you raised his wand and cast a silencing charm around the room. ‘Ah’ you thought ‘so he’s expecting a full-blown screaming match’

“I expect an explanation Y/n” he said calmly placing his wand down on the desk.

“I’m not sure what further explanation I can offer you sir” you sneer the word out pettily “I didn’t have the ingredients as I was not expecting to be in this class”

“Not about the ingredients about the letter you sent Weasley, trying to drop my class?” you rolled your eyes “you don’t think that was being a little dramatic” you snap your eyes back to his, trying to hold back your temper.

“Let me think, do I think wanting to not be in the presence of the man who broke my heart for any longer that needed to be dramatic? No” you paused causing him to look down in shame but you weren’t done “Do I think not wanting to be in this damn blasted room several times a week when it is full of memories that only cause me pain, dramatic? No, I do not.” You take a breath to fight off the tears that are threatening to form in your eyes.

“But what I do think it dramatic is my Professor being unnecessarily cruel and keeping me here against my will. You have several students drop this class in their second NEWTs year so don’t act like its taboo to do so. You told me yourself last year you expect at least 3 students in their 7th year to drop your class. So why deny me?” his eyes were sad and wide as he sat there and listened to you pour out your heart.

“Why do you insist on punishing me? You made your choice, so why wont you let me make mine?” you begged in a hushed voice

Aesop couldn’t answer, how could he tell you the truth after breaking you like he did. How could he tell you that he couldn’t make it through the day knowing you were in the same castle if he didn’t see you? How he still wakes from nightmares of that night and then lies awake with tears in his eyes? How can he say he’s sorry, that he loves you so much it hurts to breathe without you next to him. That he can’t go into his art room anymore because the drawing he did of you is still on the easel and he can’t bear to look at it.

How can he tell you he’s been watching you from the shadows and not just since school returned, how he stood over the railings in the Three Broomsticks every night when you worked. Or how he’d wait until he’d seen you return there at night after a day for foraging. What would you think of him?

“I expect you back here tomorrow evening with all ingredient to complete your detention. You may go”

You shake your head to him and walk away, swinging open the door and pressing your back to the cold stone outside the classroom. You breathe heavily and slam you hand over you mouth to hold in the sobs trying to leave your throat. Why couldn’t your heart just let him go?

Sharp runs his hand through his beard and he hears you leave the room. What he wouldn’t give to go back to that day and just keep his mouth shut, he’d not only lost you, he’d changed you. Yes, you laughed and smiled with your friends but you were hardened. He’d made so many promises to himself this year, to keep his distance, to be professional and courteous but it seems all of those promises flew out of the window the second he caught scent of your perfume as he walked past your table in class. The only spec of light in his dark mind now was while you stood there and berated him, his eyes caught glimpse of the locket he bought you, maybe he did still hold a small place in your heart, and what he wouldn’t give to earn it back.

#aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #professor sharp #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x mc #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp x reader #reader insert #fem reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fandom #x you #x reader

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nasuversekinkmeme · 2 months

Text

Haunted

Summary / author notes:

Double fill! https://nasuversekinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/714468172064030720/i-want-some-good-old-fashioned-kara-no-kyoukai (“Some KnK ghost hunting”) and https://nasuversekinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/717466704744185856/something-around-ryougi-shiki-and-time-loops-can (“Something with Shiki and time loops”).

As “the one behind that Kirie Fujou fill we do not talk about”, I thought I had the “skillset” to do the first prompt, but then I ran on an issue:

Kara no Kyoukai does not have ghost hunting.

There’s movie 1 but it’s not a ghost, just some underappreciated blorbo with the Sadako look. Then there’s the fog-wraith from movie 4 (does it even have a canon name? If not, I’d like to propose “Miasma”.), but it’s more of self-defense rather than hunting.

But then I decided: we could do the Overlooking View mixup all over again. Except worse.

Much, much worse.

The time loop aspect was added as a justification to why Shiki just doesn’t slash the “ghost” from the get-go.

Stop reading if you are squeamish about damage to the eyes or emotionally attached to Mikiya. Also, props to whoever recognizes what Touko’s machine is referencing.

Fill:

[Haunted]

>1.

He’s gone.

And she hadn’t been there to save him.

What remains lies on the floor, all mangled. Shiki was going to be without anyone by her side again. Just like the time when she was left alone in a coma, when her other self died.

She was certain of one thing, though: whoever did this, was going to end up in a far worse state than him. Shiki looked away -no point in looking for the lines of death in someone who is already dead-, up to the stairwell, and saw something up there.

A ghost. Yellowish gown, long black hair concealing her face. And plenty of lines to strike.

She looked back with the intent to look at the corpse one last time before going up to meet the enemy, but the corpse wasn’t there anymore. Not even the blood.

Shiki quickly rushed to Touko’s office, but she stopped at the first floor. What she saw there shocked her more than what she had seen in the basement.

Mikiya happily walking out of the door.

“I’m leaving for some errands. Take care!”

No way.

The corpse in the basement was his.

>2.

As usual, Touko was in her office, a testament of occult research and Diogenes Syndrome. Her excuse to not pay Mikiya in advance this time was an old machine resembling a photo booth, which had several burn marks from an earlier test.

“Touko, what the hell happened to MIkiya.”

The mage looked away from her magical piece of junk, and stared at her employee-student-attack dog. Strangely enough, she didn’t utter a word for a bit.

“Nothing.” She resumed her work on the damaged gizmo. “Just let me fix this thing, and we’ll give it another go.”

“Touko, I’m serious. I saw Mikiya die.” Shiki’s tone was unusually loud. “All mangled, thrown down the stairs. And there was an apparition watching from the top floor.”

“You’re imagining things. Mikiya is perfectly fine, he just went out to do some errands.”

“I saw that too.”

“Exactly. You’re probably just seeing things, maybe our first test run messed up a bit with your head.”

Shiki sighed. She was used to Touko being annoying, but not uncooperative.

“I’m going to look into what’s going on. You keep working on that space machine or whatever you call it.”

“Spatial conceptual interchange machine, and I didn’t choose the name.”

Shiki walked out of the office, and went down into the basement, where she began one of the toughest tasks of her life: rummage through industrial amounts of clutter, while trying to resist the urge to just kill all of Touko’s rejected artifacts to find if the corpse in the basement had been real.

The sheer boredom made the time she was stuck in a coma look like a festive event.

1 hour of rummaging through objects she’ll never know the use of.

What a shit day.

The boredom was actually tolerable, what got on her nerves was the feeling of impending danger. Normally that feeling would be welcome in her book, but the fact that the danger could just strike Mikiya behind her back turned it into a sense of dread.

2 hours - that’s it, it’s time to stab some garbage -

CRUNCH

The mangled corpse was there again. It had been real.

She quickly ran towards it, and looked up. The ghost was there, walking away, too far up to distinguish her face. Shiki looked down, and Mikiya’s body wasn’t there anymore.

>3.

It had started with that damn machine. Something Touko had gotten from a mage garage sale. She called it “artifact transfer”, but Shiki was pretty sure it was just a mage garage sale.

“Spatial conceptual interchange machine. It’s used to exchange the concept of spatial location between a predefined entity and a target.”

“Who made this and why do we need it, Touko?”

“A Spanish branch of the Mage’s Association. The Técnicos Investigación Arcana, if I recall correctly.”

Touko proceeded to demonstrate the device’s functionality by putting some papers inside of it. After inputting some strange runes Shiki did not understand nor care about, one of the office’s many TV screens was replaced with the very same stack of papers. The mage opened the machine’s door, revealing the TV to be inside of it.

“You know we could just carry the stuff ourselves, right?”

“It’s not just objects. It can also exchange living entities. Would you like to give it a go? We could swap you with this chair.”

Why did she have to agree to that? Right, so Touko wouldn’t bother her later. What happened is that the machine made some noise, and when it stopped she was still inside of it. And one part of the machine now had burns of it. So much for “teleportation of living things”. Why would Touko be so fixated on repairing that piece of junk?

She had no time to ponder on the answer to that question. Shiki’s priority was stopping whatever was going on with Mikiya and the ghost. So she began inspecting the upper floor, which were in various states of disrepair ranging from “abandoned” to “near collapse”. No wonder Touko didn’t want her and Mikiya to peek around the building. But Touko was too busy with her beloved failure of a teleportation machine.

Shiki saw the ghost again. Phasing through a wall - standing almost-inside the wall, on a crucifixion-like pose. The enemy looked unassuming. The only differences between her and the standard idea of a female ghost were her cloth -a pale yellow houseboat-ish gown rather than a white dress- and the bandages on her face.

Shiki raised her knife.

“Did you kill Mikiya?”

The ghost looked up, and suddenly phased into the wall. Or rather, was sucked into the wall.

Shiki quickly ran through the empty rooms, trying to find where her enemy was, like a twisted game of whack-a-mole. She could just kill the walls, but she was already breaking Touko’s rules enough by being up there.

Nothing. The ghost had vanished.

A loud crunch was heard in the distance, coming from below.

>4.

“I’m back!.”

Mikya walked into the office, with his usual smile. Shiki quickly rushed to him.

“Mikiya, there’s something wrong. I need you to stay outside while I figure out how to kill the threat.”

The man’s reply was to walk past her. He just went into Touko’s possibly-magic fridge and started placing the groceries. Shiki made a few more attempts at communication, ranging from kind words to a near-slap-to-the-face, but Mikiya did not respond.

How do you kill ignorance?

“Touko. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On.”

She didn’t even bother to look away from her beloved teleportation machine. “Shiki, please wait while I repair this. Stop looking around. You won’t like what you might find.”

Needless to say, Shiki didn’t wait and decided to follow Mikiya like a shadow. While he sometimes tended to ignore blatant signs of danger, this was on a whole new level. Mikiya just went through his daily tasks, completely unaware of his partner’s presence.

What was going on today?

Mikiya was fine earlier in the morning, before… that damn machine. If following Mikiya as a bodyguard didn’t work out, she was going to slash that piece of junk to pieces, and then slash the pieces. But for now, her priority was acting as a bodyguard to Mikiya, and nothing would stop her from achieving her goal of not leaving him alone…

…until Mikiya went to the bathroom.

Damn. It.

Shiki decided to just wait, promising herself to not do any harsh actions. 5 seconds later, she opened the bathroom door. Mikiya was fine, although he still ignored her… and the fact that the bathroom wasn’t a bathroom.

An empty room, filled with the corpses she had seen. Except they weren’t corpses. They were puppets. Like the Mikiya she had seen walking into the room, which was standing in the center, motionless.

“I told you not to look.” Touko stepped from a convenient shadow. “I thought this would be the last place you would check. Normally this only happens once per week, but Glaucoma hasn’t taken the sound of your voice well.”

Mikiya left the bathroom, and went upstairs. Shiki quickly proceeded to follow him, but she was interrupted by Touko.

“This isn’t your home, Shiki. Just wait until I fix the spatial conceptual interchange machine.”

“Screw you.”

Mikiya had already left. She rushed to the top floor, but she was late. He was already gone. The ghost was there, dropping his mangled form down the stairwell.

>5.

“What have you done?!” Shiki shouted at the ghost, with an unusual amount of rage in her voice. Her enemy turned around to look at her, except she couldn’t really “look”. The bandage she had seen covered the apparition’s eyes, and there faint bloody smears on it.

“I missed you.”

A childish smile. The voice was familiar.

“…what?”

“I thought you were gone. But I heard your voice. I made sure to kill him all over again, so he doesn’t make you die again.”

The ghost raised her hand, and grabbed her bandage.

“…can I still see you?”

Shiki expected the bloodied, empty eye socket.

She didn’t expect what was where the eye used to be.

A blue dot. As if it was drawn over the emptiness in the phantom’s eyes.

“No. You’re still a mass of veins. Like everything else.”

The phantom raised her other hand, revealing a small scalpel.

“…are you Glaucoma?”

“That’s what she calls me.”

Step.

“But you know me as SHIKI.”

>Before.

He was all alone. She died. Because she could not bear the memory of hurting him.

Something was in his eyes. Twisted, pulsating lines. Over everyone. Over everything. In a panic, he tried to remove the source of the problem.

It didn’t work. Every time he removed that bandage, a horrible world stared back. Ghostly threads over a black void, twisting in odd angles. A world of veins.

“Who are you?”

That woman again. The humanoid mass of veins who had more veins coming out of her, attached to something far, far away.

“You’re quite a unique case. I don’t think I have seen someone with Mystic Eyes but no physical eyes before. Do you understand what you’re seeing?”

He did.

He had already cut one vein accidentally. The nurses were still wondering how that one flower in his hospital room had fallen apart.

He understood what he was seeing.

And he knew how much he wanted to tear apart every last one of them.

He knew he wanted to kill everything.

It had always been like this. He was the cheerful one. The one fascinated with murder. She was the one holding everything inside. But she is gone now.

Something else kept coming into his room every night. Another mass of veins. This one was larger, and it floated. When it was near, he felt a misty touch.

One night, it came inside a humanoid mass of veins. It threw him down the window. The outside world was still another mass of veins, with the red, almost fleshy structures’ shapes being the only difference.

What was the point of trying to hold back anymore? She was gone. And he couldn’t see anything worth caring for in this alien world anymore. So he lashed out at the humanoid shape. Tearing the veins with his bare hands hurt, so he resorted to biting. The shape quickly fell apart.

A childish laugh.

Another figure came for him.

“Oh God are you ok? What happened…”

Never been better.

He jumped at the other lump of veins. This one had some sort of coat, but what caught his attention was the weight on it. He grabbed it, and touched to make sense of its shape. A scalpel. His second victim, and the first one he killed with an actual weapon, was some poor doctor.

He wasn’t the last.

He quickly ran through empty paths between huge spires of veins -alleyways?-, tearing every moving mass of veins he saw. Until he ran into him again. He recognized his voice.

Mikiya,

Shiki loved him. He wanted Shiki to be ok, so he did what he could to hold back during that time. To be normal. Everything for Mikiya.

For what.

It was his fault. Shiki herself told him to leave. And he kept coming back. He did this to him. What did they even see on him? He was just another lump of threads.

“I don’t… want to die…”

A warm smile.

“I want to kill you.”

Mikiya was the first victim he genuinely hated.

Suddenly, something restrained him.

“Mages really underestimate simple magic. It might not look impressive, but a restraining spell can do wonders if it catches the target by surprise.”

That woman again. The magician.

“You really have lost yourself. I would even go as far as saying that you qualify as a demon now… and I would be interested in that.”

>Now.

Shiki took a defensive position, trying to study her opponent. Glaucoma was an exact mirror of her during her time at the hospital, with the only difference being those hollow eyes and that seemingly angelic smile.

“Why did you kill him!?”

“It was his fault. You told him to leave us alone, but he kept coming back. I loved tearing all of his veins apart.”

Shiki took a few steps back. If she had been asked if she wanted to see SHIKI again she would have quickly responded affirmatively… but this wasn’t the SHIKI she remembered. Glaucoma was everything she rejected from him.

“You really are demonic. I can kill you.”

She charged towards what could be considered a ghost but wasn’t. Glaucoma responded by slashing the floor, making both fall down into another of Touko’s rooms of randomly-placed magical artifacts. He got back up and tried to cut his alternate self, only for her to dodge gracefully. Just as Shiki thought she had the upper hand, the parallel SHIKI was in front of her.

“You still see the world, right? You still think there’s something different in all of them. But it’s all just veins underneath that. You, me, everyone, things, the distance between us, the air we breathe…”

He slashed at the air around Shiki, causing her to lose breath, and then at her knife. But she wasn’t harmless even if she was disarmed. Shiki punched the mockery of her other self in the face with her prosthetic arm, sending him tumbling backwards.

This wasn’t a fight between equals. Glaucoma was physically slower and weaker, but his Mystic Eyes were more dangerous than hers. Shiki still needed some time to see the lines of conceptual things, because she had to find a way to visualize them. The other SHIKI didn’t have that drawback, as everything was just lines over darkness in his eyes.

Wait, that’s it.

Glaucoma got back up, gasping for air. That had hurt. It was clear now, the figure of veins with Shiki’s voice wasn’t her Shiki. Could it be one of Touko’s tests? Maybe he could put the blindfold back and rest. The darkness was comforting. An empty void. Like the one where she had last seen her. The real one, not the impostor.

No, no, no. He was going to kill the impostor. If Touko wasn’t doing anything, that means he could kill her without consequences. He looked at that room, but all he saw was those horrible veins. He wanted to tear apart all of them, but Touko would punish him if he did. He was only allowed to slice the lines she approved, the demons and rogue mages she hunted, the puppets of his first victim she gave him as a reward…

One of the lumps of threads moved, and got to him before he could react, run away or slash one of the odd veins - the ones that meant things that weren’t alive, like “far away”, “future”, “light”… it was her. The impostor. She restrained the arm he was holding the knife with, and grabbed his neck with her fake arm.

“The only way you can tell something alive from something dead is to see if it moves, right?”

Cheater. She had been hiding. No, not even hiding, just standing still. He wasn’t going to let her kill him. Glaucoma punched Shiki, except it wasn’t a punch. His hand phased through her torso, grabbed one of the lines and tried to pull. The impostor responded by tightening her grip, making him gasp for air.

The battle between two grim reapers was going to be decided by a twisted game of arm wrestling. Or, it would have been decided by that factor, if it had continued.

Both parties were hit off-guard by different restraining spells. Glaucoma was fully knocked out, whereas Shiki merely fell to the floor.

“Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back.” Touko muttered. “But was that satisfaction worth the experience of death?” She grabbed the fake ghost, put his blindfold back, and threw him into the wall, which absorbed him as if it had done before. “Maybe I can make him believe all of this was a nightmare when he wakes up.”

Shiki got back up. She could have asked many different questions, but she chose the most important one.

“How do I get back to my world?”

“So you figured it out. That machine’s malfunction took you to what you would call a parallel timeline, and what I call the world.”

Shiki sighed. Of course Touko was going to engage in extensive verbal tangents even if she wasn’t her Touko.

“Did you fix it?”

“It’s been fixed for around five minutes.”

“WHAT?”

“Since you were so persistent in finding my secrets, I decided to let you have your way once I had the machine fixed and stop the eventual fight when any of you two got in danger. Besides, it’s not every day you get to see a fight between two bearers of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.”

Shiki didn’t even bother to reply, and just walked to that damn machine. The alternate Touko closed the door. A few seconds and strange noises later, her Touko opened the door.

“See, Mikiya? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

He was there, fine as always. Home, sweet home. Shiki walked up to him.

“Something wrong, Shiki?”

“Nothing, I’m just… glad you’re here.”

Mikiya was surprised by her faint smile. And he was even more surprised when Shiki proceeded to slash Touko’s machine to pieces a couple seconds after.

“What the hell Shiki!? Why!?”

“It was haunted.”

#submission #fill #anonymous #Kara no Kyoukai #shiki ryougi #Mikiya Kokutou #ghost hunting #time loop

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darling-i-read-it · 2 years

Text

Secrets

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 of stranger things, secret relationship

Author’s Note: im really happy with how this turned out !! i hope you enjoy love <3

Requested: by anon, omgomgomgomg!! so happy requests are open!! ok so i’d like to request eddie munson x reader where reader is like super girly and preppy, his total opposite and they’re in a secret relationship. sneaking around, having little rendezvous in empty corridors or the d&d room when no one is there. but when shit hits the fan and ed’s on the run she goes to dustin and them for help finding him and they’re surprised about the relationship or something (sorry i didn’t really know how to like wrap it up at the end lol but i hope it makes sense) ☺️☺️☺️

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

No one expected Eddie Munson to actually be in a relationship in his technical last year of high school. He had been here longer than almost any of the other students but he still acted like he was that 17 year old kid you had passed by in the halls every once in a while. You were both seniors now and he knew all the teachers by their first names. He had taken so many classes that you were starting to think he could teach them.

So it surprised you when you were paired together in one class and you just utterly fell head over heels for each other. It was easy at first, giggles over class notes and little pictures drawn over the lined paper. But then you were ignoring the assignments all together, something that Eddie was no stranger to. He preferred to just talk to you about your life anyway. The chemistry between the two of you was undeniable.

So when you started to make out under the bleachers, it wasn’t exactly a surprise to either of you. You had decided to keep your relationship a secret. You were just in such different crowds, it made sense to keep it on the down low for the time being. At least until you could figure out how much you really liked each other.

“There are a lot of numbers on this dice,” you said, tossing it up into the air. You were sitting on the rug of his trailer. You were still wearing your school clothes, some of the school colors for spirit week. You even had your hair up and some glitter over your eyelids for extra effect. You had some girl friends help you out in the bathroom that morning.

“That’s the whole point sweetheart,” Eddie said, going through the cupboards absentmindedly. “Can’t do much with just a six die.” He had some other papers out from his campaign. You had never actually seen him in action. Just afterwards when you would sneak off into the corner of a dark secluded room and explore each other for a bit.

“Hey, you could count to six!”

“You’re so cute.” He turned around on his heels, leaning against the counter now. “I do not know where I put the stuff for Chrissy.” You had actually suggested Eddie to Chrissy when you realized she was having some trouble sleeping in class one afternoon. You’ve been mutual friends with her for a couple years. You knew whatever Eddie gave her wouldn't be dangerous.

“It’s around here somewhere. You want me to help?”

“No, it’s okay. You gotta go anyway, she’ll be here soon.” You nodded, standing up. You put his dice back where you had found it. He met you in the middle of the room to give you a fairly passionate kiss. He walked the fine line of leaving you longing and never leaving you unsatisfied. “Drive safe hm.” His lips were still against yours as he said it. You smiled, nodding, nudging his forehead with yours.

“Give her a discount. If you find the stuff.” “I am a gentleman above all else.” You rolled your eyes and let him slip through your fingers.

“See you tomorrow!”

“See you then.”

You woke up the next morning and the news was the first thing you comprehended. A high school student had died the night before of mysterious circumstances. And the area of the crime was where you were last night.

Eddie’s trailer.

You drove out there first, skipping your very first day of school. You thought about how Eddie would be proud of you skipping. He had been trying to get you to do it for ages. But the police wouldn’t let you inside and Eddie’s uncle told you he had no idea where he was. You went to the school, though you knew he wasn’t there.

You went to where he and the band practiced but they hadn’t seen him. You went to the last place you could think of; Dustin Hendersons.

Ms. Henderson opened the door, a gentle smile on her face.

“Oh my goodness! Who are you? You’re not here for Dusty are you?” You smiled sheepishly, shaking your head.

“No, no. I was wondering if he was here though. I’m looking for my boyfriend, Eddie Munson.” Just as you finished saying it, Dustin came up from behind his mom.

“You know where Eddie is?”

“No I was hoping he was here,” you said honestly.

“Wait, did you say boyfriend? You and Eddie are dating?” You sheepishly nodded. It was as good a time as any to come out to the guys now. You just wanted to know if he was okay.

“Yeah.”

“How long?” Dustin seemed half appalled, half amazed.

“Couple weeks. Since the-”

“Pep assembly! I knew those weren’t bruises on his neck!”

“Dusty!” his mom chastised. You flushed, embarrassed.

“So you don’t know where he is?” Dustin shook his head.

“I was about to go looking for him. I just got a call from Max, saying he was with Chrissy last night.” You nodded, swallowing hard.

“I know.”

“I’m gonna go talk to Max. You wanna check some other haunts and get back to us? I think we’re gonna go to Family Video and recruit Steve.” “Harrington?”

“Yeah.” You smiled softly.

“Okay. I’ll get back to you if I find him.” You and he left, both of you waving halfheartedly at Ms. Henderson.

Eventually you found yourself at his dealer's place. You should have thought of that first but you had been so preoccupied with wondering what the hell happened, your mind was too scattered to think straight. You opened the boat door up when you noted no one was there. You were really hoping not to run into any kind of unfamiliar druggies in here.

Running into Eddie was ideal though.

You knocked on the wall.

“Eddie?” you whispered. “It’s-”

Eddie jumped up out of the rowboat, tossing the cover off him. You screamed, almost falling backwards. He screamed in response, causing both of you to clutch your chests.

“What the hell Eddie?!”

“I’m so sorry! I was so excited to see it was you!” He stumbled out of the boat, tripping over the side and then almost tripping over the dock. He threw his arms around you, breathing evenly for the first time in 24 hours. “Oh my fuck,” he whispered. “You will not believe the night I had.”

“Dustin is looking for you. Everyone is looking for you, Eds.”

“And only you found me. That’s my girl,” he said against your hair. He held you tighter, determined not to let you go for the rest of time.

“Tell me what happened.”

“You’ll need to sit down for that one.” He didn’t let you go. “Can I just…hold you for a second.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” You held him back, burying your face into his hair. He smelled of sweat and cologne.

“Thanks,” he whispered. He sounded so much like a child. You let him stay there for as long as he needed.

---

Stranger Things Tag List: @dpaccione, @karasong @elisaa-shelby @purple-flamingo @trinswhimsys @valentina-luvs-u @demigirl-with-problems @chaotic-fangirl-blog @mads-weasley @alexxavicry @secret-obsessions-21-blog @mystic-writings @plumes-de-nuit @linkxneptune

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagines #stranger things imagines

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onyourhyuck · 2 years

Text

Dangerous Alliance. | l.hc (M) PT THREE.

synopsis; bae sarang looks nothing special on the outside, has black thick glasses and wears her thick black hair in a raw clip. ‘typical nerd’ people would describe her. but when she goes back home bae sarang is a genius hacker with high level of IQ. one day, she ends up hacking into a mafia security breach. Boy, did she regret it because her life was about to change for the worse.

warnings; mafia au, hacker au, smut!! No minors, mature language, mention of bad health, angst is here, enemies to lovers, denial, slow slow slowww burn, bae sarang is a sarcastic bbg and we love that <333, sarang really doesn’t take shit from men LMAO, haechan is an ass, fighting scenes, action is a major genre here because mafia ayo. slight comedy to break the tension.

✧;── table of contents ──; ✧

╭ ⁞ ❏. masterlist to other chapters.

┊ ⁞ ❏. next chapter: part 4 link.

┊ ⁞ ❏. previous chapter: part 2 link.

── ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ ──

turns out sarang has hacked into the mafia, for once sarang wishes she wasn’t smart for her own sake and safety.

she was reckless and cocky thinking she can do whatever she wants just because she hasn’t been caught ever hacking into tons of breeches.

“can you at least give me cola instead of this mucky water?” sarang scowls to the guards that were standing outside her cell that their damn leader locked her up in as if she were some prisoner!

no response heard, sarang sighs. “fine, i’ll die of thirst then.” with that being said she gazed around the cell. she was sat on a rock cold floor, it’s hella cold so she purposely has no freaking blanket or anything. food was basically expired food and the water probably is poisoned.

no cameras however…and the guards had keys behind their gear where she can easily reach behind without them noticing if the other guard left.

sarang’s eyes lit up, a mischievous plan A was set in motion. ‘oh hell yeah, we’re breaking outta here bae sarang.’

the girl grabs a hold of the glass full of the greeny transparent oil-like water, in motion she quickly spilled it on the second guard and then fall on the knees quickly with a gasp, crashing glass splattering on the rock hard earth’s ground. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, i fell against the rock flooring..” sarang said looking down submissively, although it was an act, it was really believable in their eyes, she purse hands together in praying forgiveness motion back and forth.

the soldier glares with complaints, tucking the water off the clothes in disgust. “god I can’t wait till boss executes her. what an annoying klutzy bitch.” the soldier left his post leaving only one soldier with the keys available to stay back and guard the cell as his back faced against the cell bars so casually, how stupid of him being so open in front of sarang.

she smirks getting up slowly as her slim hands with ease fit through the bars as she got the keys unzipped from the gear.

it was quietly done as she then grabs a hold of the broken glass shreds from earlier when the cup dropped in the act. the large shred of spiky glass immediately used to stab the guy from behind on the vulnerable pressure points leaving the person paralysed.

sarang might be a hacker but she played many fighting action oriented games, at this point it was a defensive manner. sarang had to kill someone for the first time and she couldn’t bother and feel sorry for doing this when they literally have guns! and have her kidnapped.

It’s either kill or be killed, sarang knew this. The intimidating tan man earlier who held the title ‘mafia leader’ gazed down to sarang with malicious dangerous killing intent, he will kill sarang in the future or in present reality currently.

the cell creeks open.

she got out of the jail, left the dead guard in the cell too. sarang had no idea where she’s going but she took the guard’s loaded gun carrying it around.

the dungeon was something out of game of thrones if sarang had to describe it. The young student shuffles in the shadows, making sure to avoid everything and everyone. sarang was the prey here, not the predator. one slight fuck up and the girl is dinner to the stray wolves in the woods. If we were to go for the mafia stereotype, sarang can imagine torture— painful slow deaths awaiting her, or the grim repeat waiting for death to strike so he could collect the poor holy soul of hers.

she might be cynical, but she doesn’t want to die young. sarang is only nineteen.

the light escaped at the entrance where sarang was able to leave the dungeon, a plaster of sunlight emitting on sarang’s body. the figure shifts quickly running to one of the cars that belong to the soldiers possibly.

seriously who puts a dungeon middle of nowhere? sarang was quick to break the car’s window by the hem edge gun, slamming it down with ease. the girl did this to be able to unlock the door and go inside, sarang has clearly alerted attention by the guards that began running towards her.

she gasps pushing the hair pins, jamming in the keyholes to restart the vehicle, starting the running car. the soldiers shout. “stop the car! stop her!”

sarang reversed the car backwards accidentally running over a few of the soldiers behind, she shouts. “holy shit sorry!” sarang apologies, driving forward roughly, screeching wheels spitting forward dirt on the soldiers as the car plugged side to side driving fast away.

few soldiers tried running to keep up with the car until it truly became tiring, them holding the knees.

chenle heavily breathed out loud, he was one of the people that chased the car and lost badly. “fuck!” the Chinese curses hitting the air. “haechan’s going to kill me.” chenle screams.

renjun falls to the ground holding in a breathe, he were panting looking up to chenle. “yeah we’re done for.”

the older Chinese man glances in surprise to notice a small red beeping linger on his work phone, renjun lightly laughing. a miracle has truly been given to them…

“maybe we aren’t done for anymore, chenle-yah.” renjun spoke darkly, chenle eyeing the other chinese with eyebrow raise— did they perhaps get lucky? They in fact did.

renjun smirks. “call haechan.”

the car stops in front of the apartment, it is currently ten o’clock at night, extremely dark outside to the point sarang felt like she were in a thriller action based film, but make it reality.

sarang checks the perimeter, looking around cautiously when she got out of the car quietly, holding the gun close.

when the cost was clear, the streets were solitary, street lamps lighting the darkness enough for sarang to move inside the apartment. she took the quicker way which is the lift and then walking down the long eerily dark quiet hallway, sarang stops in front of the white bland door with the number A007.

the girl slowly lifts the door passcode upwards to type the password very carefully, sudden gut feeling that left sarang feeling like she were walking on pure eggshells, as if something was badly going to go down. the girl brushed those feelings as her hers look behind her shoulder, nothing, it must be nothing right?

door openly slowly, everything seemed in place despite there was no light turned on. only purple-ish blue darkness cantering out of the large apartment windows, other windows with black blinds covering them. the place was clean, neat. sarang softly sighs in relief as the body manurers around the place, going to the middle centre.

CLICK.

the light welcomes a long slim figure sitting on the chair in middle of the large tv screen and sofa behind him, the person man spreading those long legs in t tightly black skinny ripped jeans, wearing a black leather jacket and white-ripped style oversized shirt. black mullet locks covering those dark gazing eyes hovering at the sight of sarang’s shock entitled expression; both arms resting their elbows on his thighs as he was spreading them wide, hands linking together under the chin. those evil moles haunting above the tan glowing skin, the attractive dangerous man wearing silver chains and rings.

he was waiting for her.

sarang’s throat went dry, immediately pointing the gun at haechan who did not react whatsoever, he were still like a statue, the gun also being the only protection.

the voice lingers forward in a judgemental condescending laugh, soft spoken but deadly. Sounding of a innocent flower but a completely poisonous. “My my, i was waiting for you. what took you so long?” sarang grits teeth at his words. “how’d you find me?”

did he predict sarang to escape? how could he possibly be ten steps ahead?

haechan’s bland unreadable lips began to shape in a smirk as those corner lips lift upwards, eyebrows becoming less tense but rather amused in archways, nose flaring softly, eyes squinting at the girl’s words marking them one by one. “the car has a tracker on.”

sarang’s eyes widen when haechan stood up from the chair, hands tucked in front pockets of the skinny jeans, he tilts his head at the girl’s gun. He saw sarang backing away every time his body takes one step forward.

sarang going backwards, haechan kept closing in. “you know,” the man’s voice trails the more their bodies kept backing away despite each step was taken— it was as if they were a rollercoaster about to go downhill extremely badly. “I’m so tempted to kill you right here. it will be so easy to paint it as a suicide for the public eye and police, i’ll make it look like a pathetic attempt to waste away your life.”

“or, maybe you want me to keep you alive but reveal those dangerous hackings you did on the fbi Hm? maybe you’ll spend your time rotting in prison, suffering deeply. Your future plans out of the window.” haechan spat deeply enticing to sarang, the girl flinches when her back hit the cold straight wall. the gun pointing at haechan’s chest, on the centre. despite the gun being loaded and pointing at him, he wasn’t scared. He was cocky, arrogant— reckless, impulsive and he knew who was in control. He was.

sarang’s eyesbrows furrow harshly at those horrible words he explained in such detail, he loves seeing sarang in misery. haechan giggles. “you pick, I’ll be pleased either way!” he told.

“I won’t pick for shit, bastard.” sarang shouts, haechan putting a hand over the girl’s neck tightly squeezing it. “oh but you will, because you’ll do as i say.”

sarang shifts the gun towards haechan’s forehead, the boy laughing. “you’ll shoot me? do it, i dare you.” haechan tells, tempting sarang completely; but she knew if she shot him, she will get framed for murder and the walls already as thin as they are, a gunshot would be impossible to avoid and locate here.

the girl notices a figure behind haechan, a sort of shadow move suddenly around in black long cloak. sarang tilts her head at the figure that was impossible to look and identify, the mafia leader was busy staring at sarang awaiting an answer.

“if you’re trying to scare me it’s not going to work.” haechan replied uninterested, this old trick won’t work on him. his head turns around wondering what sarang was paying her attention to, but once he turned a baseball to his head knocked the man out instantly.

sarang screams in shock before being dropped down unconscious by an injection with a weird liquid on the side of her neck. The effect of the drug paralysing sarang’s body the moment it jabbed her in the neck, eyelids shutting down into deep slumber.

who could possibly be this person? another enemy? if so, where and what’s going to happen to them? Stay in tune to find out in the next chapter!

✁- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“please refer from translating, copyrighting and plagiarising my work, thank you!”

╰─▸ ❝ @onyourhyuck has. . . . logged off.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ Dangerous Alliance.꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct series #haechan smut #nct masterlist #haechan hard hours #haechan fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct hard hours #nct u scenarios

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summersnow82 · 6 months

Text

The Scent of Roses - Part 9

Fanfiction_X-Men

Fictober 2023_Prompt 4: “Do you even know what this means?”

.......

Hank sat in a plush wingback chair across from Charles Xavier’s large, ornate desk, recalling when this room had been used for storage in some of Charles’ less productive years. He still found it impressive how far they’d come all these years later; so much success after so much struggle and loss.

“Do you ever dream about her?” Charles asked, touching a framed photo on his desk with tentative fingers. Hank didn’t have to see the picture to know who was in it, and yes, he missed her, too. Mystique had been a force in both their worlds, and while they weren’t always on the same side she’d always carried a piece of his heart.

“Sometimes. Less so now, but sometimes.”

“Hmmm.” Charles murmured thoughtfully. “The students enjoyed your impromptu open forum with Sabrina today.” His eyes flickered up to Hank’s. “Sabrina, on the other hand…,” he let his words dangle, and Hank sighed, raking a clawed hand through his thick, blue hair.

“I may have pushed a bit too hard,” he admitted.

Charles’ chair clicked and whirred as he moved from behind his desk to sit next to Hank. “What exactly are your intentions, Hank? Have you thought this through?”

“I think everything through, Charles,” Hank quipped, rubbing a thumb over his lower lip. He looked up, eyes pensive. “I’ve been informed by multiple sources I’ve been quite the fool for many, many years.” Charles quirked an eyebrow and gave a deft nod. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

The older man shrugged. “It wasn’t for me to share. Besides, when Sabrina came here she was far too young for you – legally and logistically. I assumed her childhood crush would fade, but her affections only deepened despite her efforts.”

Hank’s brow furrowed. “Efforts?”

“Warren. Kurt. Leaving here. Have you bothered to discuss any of this with her?”

Hank shook his head, continuing to worry his lower lip. “Every time I try it ends poorly.”

“I see.” Charles nodded. “Well, let’s put this on hold and discuss the more pressing matter. What did the President have to say?” Charles listened intently as Hank caught him up on all the details – what he thought was true, what was mouth service, and the bits he still had to think through.

“I’ve been asked to compile my own team – people I know and trust with the proper credentials, and go check this information out for myself. I’m reviewing files for recommended personnel this evening, and should have my team by the end of the week. The sooner, the better.”

“And you wish to take Sabrina?”

“Sabrina and Jean, preferably. Their skills would be an exceptional benefit, and their resumes are respectable for this mission. Did you have other thoughts?” He crossed his legs, leaning on the arm of the chair intently to hear Charles’ recommendations.

“I think they’re excellent choices, but I admit I am concerned – is there a chance this cure may be used on you during this examination? Without your consent?”

Hank sucked in a deep breath. “The thought had occurred to me, yes. However, I think that would be far too inflammatory for their cause. I anticipate full cooperation, and perhaps even a bit of schmoozing on their part.”

Charles nodded. “Very well. But if anything should seem off,” he began.

“I’ll call for backup, of course.” Hank stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in desperate need of a shower and a hot meal.” This drew a chuckle from his friend and mentor.

“Of course. Oh, and Hank?” The younger man turned back to look at him. “Talk to Sabrina. Sooner, rather than later.”

……

The smell from the dining hall was enough to make Sabrina’s mouth water. She’d had a long day of classes, then Danger Room training with Scott and a handful of younger students, and she was absolutely famished. Most nights she’d take her plate to her room, the gardens, or even the library for a bit of quiet, but Danger Room training left her feeling antsy and anxious. She found conversations and distractions from the students helped settle her.

“How’d the kids do today?” Jean asked as Sabrina slid into a chair next to her. “Scott said you were going to be tackling introductory training.”

The blonde nodded, sighing. “I think all the fear and anxiety of this cure makes it a bit more essential now. If we can help them control their powers, especially in stressful situations, it will give them a sense of control and empowerment.” She stabbed a green bean, and stared at it with delight. “I love when Miss Abbie makes her green beans.”

“They need to feel safe,” Ororo added, joining them. “Anything we can do to encourage that will help.” She shot Sabrina a sly grin. “Which reminds me: I heard you had an interesting guest in class today.”

“Oh?” Jean tilted her head to the side, eyes twinkling. “Do tell.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “It’s just Hank working through his breakup with Trish, and using me as his rebound.”

Jean frowned, pursing her lips. “I don’t recall Hank ever rebounding before. You?” She asked Ororo.

“Nope,” the storm goddess replied, taking a bite of her own green beans, smiling the whole time.

“So then, it’s what?” Sabrina asked, cutting her Salisbury steak with irritation. “Because I find it hard to believe he suddenly looked up and saw me as a love interest.” She hacked at her food a bit harder. “He never noticed before,” she grumbled.

“Age gaps are a much bigger deal when you’re younger,” Jean said, watching Sabrina’s fork and knife with a touch of concern. “You really should talk to him about – Sabrina, I think it’s dead,” she said, stilling the utensils with her mind.

Sabrina froze, then shot her friend a perturbed glance. “I hate it when you do that.” Jean chuckled, turning to her own plate. “And just what am I supposed to say to him?” Sabrina asked, stabbing a piece of meat and bringing it to her lips. “Yeah, that make-out session was hot, but until you know what you want keep your distance?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ororo affirmed, lifting her water to her lips.

Sabrina frowned, staring at her food, then putting her fork back down. “I’m just finding it hard to believe someone like him would want someone like me. That’s all.”

The older women stopped, exchanging glances of concern. “Why?” Ororo prompted.

Sabrina held up her gloved hands. “Most men don’t like it when you’re privy to all their thoughts, feelings, and memories.”

“Kurt didn’t seem to mind,” Jean said softly. She knew better than to bring up Warren.

Sabrina smiled at the thought of the transporting mutant. “Kurt was a dear, and we were young. It would probably be different now. I mean, I’m sure now he’d expect...I mean,” she swallowed hard, waving a hand in the air. “It’s just I…,” she trailed off, blushing deeply.

“If you’re referring to a physical relationship,” Jean began, knowing full well it was exactly what Sabrina was talking about. “Then regardless of age your comfort and consent are still necessary. I don’t think Hank, or Kurt for that matter, would ever push you out of your comfort zone.”

Sabrina squirmed in her seat, refusing to meet her friend’s eyes. “Warren did.” Jean bit her lip. There it was. Warren had loved Sabrina, but he’d struggled with her powers, her limitations, and her comfort in a number of areas. She knew he’d used Hank as an excuse when he broke up with the blonde, and it was not a shining moment for him. “I guess I can’t blame him. When you love someone,” she started.

“...you respect their wishes,” Ororo finished, her eyes hard. She remembered the breakup as well as Jean. Sabrina nodded, stabbing at her food again, and trying hard to ignore the tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

“Professor Snow?” Sabrina’s head jerked up. Kitty was standing next to her looking hesitant and misplaced. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I…,” she held our an envelope to the older woman. “Dr. McCoy asked me to deliver this to you.” She shrugged and chuckled nervously. “Probably an apology for crashing class today, right?”

Sabrina forced herself to smile, nodding as she carefully took the envelope. “Thank you, Kitty.”

The younger woman nodded, turning and headed back to her table. Jean and Ororo didn’t say anything, but they watched the letter with curious eyes. Sabrina ran her gloved fingers over the sides of the letter, touching the corners carefully, as if they would prick her fingers. She thought about taking her gloves off, and consuming all the letter had to offer, but she opted against it, took a deep breath, and broke the seal.

My dearest Sabrina,

I must apologize for my brash behavior today – both this morning in the kitchen, and later in your classroom. I’m afraid I haven’t been myself as of late. Strange and unfamiliar feelings have consumed me, and at the heart of it all lies you.

Sabrina Fair, please let us converse on whatever is transitioning betwixt the two of us. I am afraid I have unnerved you or given you cause for trepidation, and if this is so I wish to atone. You have always been dear to me, and I would be crestfallen if I caused you pain.

Would you meet me tonight in the library after lights out? I would be forever thankful for the opportunity.

Yours,

Hank

Sabrina stared at the letter, blinking. “Wha….what?” She asked softly, clutching the paper, reading and rereading. “Seriously, what?”

Jean and Ororo exchanged glanced again. “Sabrina?”

“I don’t….I don’t understand,” the younger woman said, looking up at them. It was clearly Hank’s handwriting, and only Hank would use the word ‘betwixt’. But the letter…well, the letter seemed almost, kinda, sorta like a love letter. Or the potential for love, anyway. “Here.” She shoved the letter at Jean, eyes wide, thoroughly confused. “I don’t understand. Do you even know what this means?”

Jean’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the lines of the letter, a slow, happy smile spreading across her face. “Oh, Sabrina, yes,” she said, nodding, and handing the letter back to the blonde. “Yes, I know what the letter means.”

Sabrina blinked, still in a state of utter shock and confusion. “Well?”

“It means,” Ororo said, scooping up some mashed potatoes and grinning at her younger friend. “Hank finally has a crush on you.”

#fictober23 #fictober 2023 #fictober #hank mccoy #kelsey grammer #jean grey #ororo munroe #sabrina snow #beast xmen #my ocs #ao3 fanfic #fan fiction

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dattebae · 2 years

Text

The middle ground (ch.4)

CHAPTERS: [ 1 ] , [ 2 ], [ 3 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ Finale]

COMPLETE WORK AT AO3: HERE.

Pairing: Sixty/Female Reader

Word count: 7.486

Rating: Explicit ( Sprays you with water if you're under 18. Please stay awayyyyy)

Warnings: Substance abuse, too much angst for a human to stand, Connor's wife being cute, Sixty being a horrible fucking person, Nines is the best fucking person, awkward family dinners, music and some sad smut towards the end.

Note: I honestly don't know what to say. I just wanna tell you guys to brace yourselves because this chapter contains a whole lot of angst. I also wanna add that Sixty sings at some point and I couldn't think of a better song than this one. Phew, okay. I have to pack my bags and leave the country before some of you come for me. Have fun!

Sixty never went to college. It wasn’t a shock to anyone around him, of course, but the idle time after high school gave him the unfortunate opportunity to experiment with the worst kind of drugs available on the streets. There was something very scary and hollow about everyone drifting away from him after high school, and while Sixty never admitted to that, he used the drugs to distract himself from that reality. One day he left the house, and then he never came back. He knew going back to his childhood home would mean that he’d have to face his past, and he was nowhere near ready for that.

During that time Nines was dragged into a tough selection process orchestrated by the CIA to see if he was fit for his current position, and it took over a year until he finally got chosen. Maybe things would’ve been different for Sixty if Nines had been around during that time, but Sixty couldn’t remember much from those years, anyway. He had vague memories of drifting off on random couches with people who were just as fucked up as him, and sometimes he could swear he had glimpses of waking up in random alleys around Detroit. Honestly, it was a miracle he’d even managed to survive after all the shit he put in his body.

Meanwhile, Connor and Suki had moved into a small student apartment near their campus, and some nights Sixty would find himself tucked in their bed with food and water waiting for him on the nightstand. He never knew how he ended up there, and they never told him, either. Somehow that made him even more bitter. Connor always had to be so fucking nice all the time, and even though Sixty had so many memory gaps from that time, he never lost the feelings those moments caused him: shame and anger.

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t surprising to find Suki loading food into Nines’ fridge when Sixty came home the morning after being with you. She was just like Connor, if not worse. Whenever she knew Nines was back from his missions, she’d come by and leave him some of her homemade food, which Sixty knew Nines loved. It was almost like God knew what he was up to, because hadn’t Suki been there, Sixty would’ve already been searching through Nines’ bedroom to find money, or something that he could sell for money.

Yeah, he knew how fucked up at that was. Even worse, he knew that getting to that point of desperation meant he was dangerously close to a serious detox withdrawal, and he had no intention of going through that nightmare. Sixty needed a fucking high, or else he’d be clawing his own skin off very soon.

He’d been staring at her from the hall for a while, watching how she unloaded box after box and set them into the fridge in the order she knew Nines would appreciate. Sixty hadn’t seen Suki for a while, and he’d never bothered to greet her or Connor at the event, either. Maybe that made him an asshole, but that wasn’t new. It was the same old: They were unbearably nice, and he avoided them like the fucking pest.

“ Are you gonna stand there and stare like a creep, or are you gonna help the pregnant lady out? ” Suki casually called, and Sixty rolled his eyes. The only difference between Suki and Connor was her sharp tongue: she didn’t tolerate nonsense from anyone. And as much as he enjoyed their banter, he needed her to get the fuck out so he could steal something from his brother and snort some cocaine.

“ You’ve known me for over a fucking decade, and you still decided to ask me a question like that? ”

He’d walked into the kitchen by then, and she met him with a sneer.

“ Well, you’ve known me for just as long, and still you opted to test me. ”

Ah. There she was.

“ Don’t act like you don’t like a little challenge, Ki. I know my brother’s too much of a shrimp to have things his way, anyway. ”

“ Oh trust me, if Connor didn’t have his way, I wouldn’t be pregnant right now. ” she casually said.

Well, ew.

Suki closed the fridge and started to fold the empty plastic bags she’d carried the boxes in, and during that time Sixty realized she was observing him suspiciously.

Did she know? Did he look like was going to steal Nines’ shit for a line of the first best thing?

“ Who’s the staring creep now? ” Sixty quipped, returning her earlier sneer.

Suki rolled her eyes and turned her focus back on her task.

“ Connor’s been worried about you, Six. You have to stop avoiding him like this. ”

It didn’t take long for Sixty’s smirk to fade after that. Nines had said that to him far too many times, and it seemed like he just couldn’t escape that line no matter who he spoke to. Sixty shrugged his jacket off and threw it over one of the stools by the kitchen island. Suki didn’t react, but maybe his bitter behavior was normal to her. After all, he’d been a bitter asshole for most of his life.

“ How’s the little guy? ” he asked, avoiding the subject of Connor as much as he possibly could. Suki didn’t push on it, and that was good. The last thing he needed along with his skin-crawling urge to get high was a conversation about his perfect fucking brother.

“ Cole’s fine. He’s been asking about his uncle Seesee, though. ” she said with a puppy eyed pout, and Sixty couldn’t help but to crack a smile.

Uncle Seesee, huh?

Cole was barely two years old and he already looked like a carbon fucking copy of Connor. Some part of Sixty hated it, but he couldn’t deny the love he had for his little shrimp nephew.

“ By the way, Richard told me about your mysterious girl. “ Suki wiggled her eyebrows, and Sixty rolled his eyes. Weren’t spies supposed to be good at keeping their mouths shut? What the fuck, Nines. Sometimes Sixty wondered if his family (whatever fucked up variant of a family this was) ever had anything better to talk about than him and his messy life.

“ Don’t start. ”

“ No. No, that’s good, Colin. I’m glad you’re happy. ” She gave him a smile, and Sixty almost squirmed under her sincerity. Seriously. Why did they always have to be so fucking nice?

“ I’m glad you’re doing better. ” she added, collecting her bag.

“ I’m definitely doing better than you. I mean, you look…” His nose wrinkled a little, hand vaguely gesturing to the swell of her stomach.

Suki stroked her belly protectively, eyes practically shooting daggers at him.

“ Careful. ”

Shit.

“…Dazzling? ” he tried.

The look on her face wasn’t subtle at all: Suki wasn’t impressed, but she didn’t seem eager to keep the topic on her very pregnant figure, either. Instead, she said something that had Sixty taken aback a little:

“ Nines is meeting us for dinner next week. You should bring your girlfriend along and…you know, let her meet the family. ”

The family.

Sixty scoffed.

The last thing he’d want is for you to meet the collection of people that proved just how fucked up and pathetic he really was. The girl who rejected him in high school, his older brother who she’d chosen instead, and his heart-throb bachelor of a younger brother. No, thank you. He needed you far away from everything that pointed to his addiction: which was a lot, but mostly them.

Suki didn’t give him a chance to protest, though. She gave him a gentle rub on the arm and a smile that, once again, was too sincere for Sixty’s liking.

“ Be good, Six. ”

He looked at her for a moment, expression a little stiff and hard.

Good. The only thing he couldn’t be.

The urges may have gotten him in a bad mood, but he couldn’t deny that Suki was a walking reminder of how he was never good enough. Not for her, and not for his brothers. Not for anyone.

She’d already headed for the hall when Sixty heard her call out to him:

“ And please leave some food over for Nines. ”

Oh, he’d be stealing more than just food from Nines.

***

There was a guitar in your living room slash bedroom that bothered Sixty a lot. You barely knew how to use it, and it was clear that it was only there for decoration, but it still bothered him. He knew it sounded insane, but he could swear that it kept staring at him. Maybe it was the side-effect of that new shit he’d snorted earlier. He didn’t know what the drug was, but his dealer had told him it was new on the market and Sixty didn’t even question it. He’d bought a few doses with the money he’d gotten from selling one of Nines’ rings (which he’d stolen from his room as soon as Suki left.) It was only a matter of time before Nines would find out and probably (most definitely) confront him about it. Anywho: that drug was either fantastic, or he was really losing his mind because the guitar was still staring.

Sixty hadn’t touched an instrument in years, and he hadn’t sung in even longer. It was…scary, to dip his toes into music. Mostly because it reminded him of Hank, but also because whenever he did play, it forced him to deal with his feelings.

No, thank you.

He tried to ignore the discomfort of having the instrument in the corner, and while you sat on the couch with him after hours of lazy sex, you seemed to notice that Sixty’s gaze kept flicking over to the guitar.

“ You know you’re allowed to use it, right? ”

He looked up to find you giving him an amused look, and he tried to casually shrug it off. Maybe some part of him wondered how its weight would feel in his hands, and if it was tuned in case he pulled on the strings. No. No, that was a slippery slope.

“ I’m good. ”

It wasn’t worth a journey down nightmare lane, and he already felt content chilling with you on the couch while painting your toenails a pretty shade of blue. You were only wearing a pair of panties and Sixty’s oversized t-shirt (that was way too big and way too sexy on you), and when Sixty dragged his eyes over you, his smirk indicated nothing but trouble. You nudged him with your other foot, bringing his attention back to you.

“ Come on, I’ve seen how you keep looking at it. ”

He wanted to retort and tell you that it was in fact the guitar looking at him, but you’d probably think he was crazy, and honestly? Maybe he was. His mouth parted, and before he could think of something less…mentally unstable to say, you were already up on your feet. You brought the guitar back to the couch and handed it to him.

Sixty froze.

“ Play something for me. ”

Sixty hesitated for a moment, but then you plopped down next to him and brought your knees up to your chest, a spark of curiosity and excitement lingering in your eyes.

“ Please? ”

Well, that was just unfair. How was he ever supposed to say no to that? To you?

Hesitating, he looked down at the guitar for a moment. After a long moment, Sixty then shifted in his seat and properly rested the instrument on his thigh. You watched him give the strings an experimental strum, and a pleasant tune echoed over the room. Sixty hummed, then he adjusted some of the strings, pulling and twisting until he finally tuned the instrument to his liking.

Something about this felt very natural. Even though it'd been years since Sixty had played, his fingers hadn’t forgotten any of the chords. What started as exploratory little sounds soon turned into steady, deliberate tunes. He hummed along to it, and you gently swayed your body to the music with a smile lingering on your lips.

And then he began to sing.

Perhaps some part of him knew where this would take him, and although the journey through his memories brought him sadness and pain, they also brought him a sense of comfort. Sixty felt like he was home for the first time in over a decade. He found himself back in that messy garage, feeling Hank’s fingers guiding his smaller ones through each tricky chord. He could hear his laughter and his praise when Sixty finally managed to learn the combinations.

Something inside his throat was closing, and his voice started losing its strength for a moment. Your look of adoration slowly blended with concern when you saw the tears gathering in Sixty’s eyes. His fingers began to shake over the guitar, and then the music stopped.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to him that this ended with him in tears, but he was stubborn enough to think that maybe, just maybe, he was stronger now than he’d been in the past.

He wasn’t.

Without the music, his quivering breaths were loud, and carefully you moved over to him when he lowered the guitar and let it fall to the carpet. Sixty tried to cover the tears by hiding his face in his hands, but it was too late. He swore through his gritted teeth, feeling how you slowly wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Everything inside his head was a cluster of memories: He could remember the car, his own fucking voice in the backseat: how he’d yelled at Hank for ruining his night and how Connor tried to calm him down.

The screech of the tires.

The scatter of glass.

Connor’s screams.

The faint sound of the sirens.

Sixty had no idea how much time he spent crying in your arms, but you were patient and your hugs anchored him through each wave of pain and regret washing over him. He was babbling random apologies to Hank while you held him close and waited patiently. It took a long time before he’d calmed, and when you finally asked him about it after an hour of holding him in silence, he decided to tell you about that night.

It was four days before Christmas and he’d been invited to a party outside of town. Even though Hank told him no, Sixty had still snuck out through the garage and taken the first bus he could find to Leo Manfred’s mansion. Nines had gone to bed early because of swimming practice he had the next day, and Sixty had refused to stay home to be alone with his own stupid thoughts. He remembered being in a particularly bad mood that day because Connor was spending the night over at Suki’s. Her parents were out of town that weekend, and Sixty knew exactly what that meant.

He didn’t tell you anything about the drugs, but Sixty had no idea that Leo Manfred and his shitty circle would be his ticket to addiction. They were all stoners, and he only hung around with Leo for the same reason as the rest of his shitty friends: he had money for weed. It hadn’t sounded like a bad thing then: it was just something to get his mind off Connor and Suki.

It was three AM, and after eight missed calls and three voicemails, Hank had decided to drive up to the house and bring Sixty home himself. Sixty told you about the really bad argument he��d had with Hank outside Leo’s house, and how pissed he was over his dad picking up like a fucking child while Connor was fucking Suki in the other side of town. He’d blurted out something about Connor always getting what he wanted, and Hank had given him a whole speech about how he shouldn’t compete with his brothers, and how they needed to stick together through good and bad times.

Refusing to listen, Sixty went back inside, and after contemplating, Hank decided to call Connor for help.

An hour later, the three of them were in the car on their way back to the city, and Sixty was absolutely livid. His anger might’ve been because of Connor’s presence in the car, or maybe it was the weed and alcohol fucking him up. Actually, it was probably a combination of everything, but he didn’t mention that part to you. It’d happened so fast: one moment they were arguing and the next moment the car had slid off the road and rolled into a ditch. A branch had broken through the window from Hank’s side, and impaled him from the left side. Sixty had hit his head quite badly, and his arm was stuck between the neck rest from Connor’s seat. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, but he heard Connor’s cries and screams from the front seat. They haunted him until this day.

Dad! No! No, no, no! Dad, please open your eyes! Please!

The next time his conscience returned, Connor was sobbing. He could hear him cursing and fighting to drag him out of the car while Hank was left in the driver’s seat.

Sixty couldn’t understand why Connor saved him. He couldn’t understand how he’d had it in him to leave their dad dying in the driver’s seat.

It made no sense.

The air was hot and thick from the mist in the shower, and you were silently peering up at him when Sixty’s story came to an end. It had been your idea to drag him in there with you, and the water seemed to calm his nerves even more. This was good.

There was a long pause between you, and then Sixty dropped his head to your shoulder, his breath hot against your bare skin as he spoke.

“ I should’ve stayed home. ” he said, voice cracking. It was barely audible over the hot water pouring down on both of you.

“ Six, you were just a kid... ” You murmured, stroking his neck soothingly.

“ Your dad loved you, and you loved him. I’m sure he knew that. ”

He hoped you were right. He hoped that argument hadn’t ruined Hank’s perception of him, and how much Sixty really loved him.

Sixty sighed against your neck, arms tightening around your waist as he pulled your bare body closer to him. Ever since he broke down into tears before you, he hadn’t been able to let you go. It was weird, but somehow holding you gave him a sense of safety. You anchored him, in a way, and he appreciated that. He appreciated you. Sixty had never spoken about that night with anyone. Not even his brothers. And yet, talking about it with you felt oddly relieving. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He realized that you’d unknowingly forced him to face a big chunk of his trauma since the moment you handed him that guitar, and that made him question his own judgment about a lot of things. Maybe he was capable of healing, and maybe that was something worth sharing. Sixty knew that intentions weren’t entirely selfless, because he wanted to rub his relationship with you in his ‘family’s’ face, just to prove a point. Maybe that’d put an end to all their annoying obsession with his life and his sobriety. He was not sober by any means, of course, but he wanted them to think that.

Most of all, he wanted you to be in the dark about his addiction, for as long as possible.

Why? Because he was selfish, and he wanted you for himself, just like this. He wanted you to anchor him and treat him like himself: Not like an addict with selfish, impulsive tendencies: even if that was the truth. The parasite inside him, the one that made him angry, selfish, jealous, manipulative and impatient, told him to never let you go.

“ I want you to meet my family. ” Sixty murmured, stroking your cheek while he lovingly peered into your eyes.

You smiled up at him, and when you spoke again, the parasite within him practically purred.

“ I’d like that. ”

***

Sixty had reconsidered many things in his life as of lately, but one thing that he began to question in particular was the extent of his younger brother’s supposed spy skills. Nines hadn’t said anything to him about his missing ring, and even though Sixty had basically, sort of, moved in with you, he never received a call or an angry text message from Nines. It was quite the opposite, actually. Nines had gone as far as leaving him the keys to his ridiculously clean Range Rover so he could pick you up and drive you to the restaurant where the family was waiting for you both.

Sixty was waiting for you outside your apartment complex. He’d been leaning against the car with his hands tucked into his pockets and plenty of time to speculate the upcoming events of the evening. Some part of him had come to terms with the idea of meeting Connor again. They hadn’t spoken in months and Sixty had no idea what he’d feel or how he’d react to his brother’s presence. In some way, though, he felt ready. Sixty didn’t spend too much time thinking about Connor, though. Not when you walked out of the building looking like something from a dream. He pushed himself off the car, staring at your elegant dress and those soft little waves of your hair that made him want to run his fingers through them. The deep blue color complimented your skin tone perfectly, and when you walked up to him with the sound of soft little clicks from a pair of heels he was sure you dreaded to wear, he couldn’t help but to smile like a fucking idiot.

Holy fucking shit.

“ Hi. ” You smiled at him, and it filled his insides with butterflies.

“ Hey, ” he smirked. It was impossible to miss the adoration in his eyes. “ You look beautiful. ”

He watched your smile grow at those words.

Something about the way you reached to fix his collar made Sixty’s heart beat a little faster. It still stunned him sometimes, how easy it was for you to take him off guard with small gestures such as these. He realized that it’d been a good idea to dress a little more properly for the evening. After all, you deserved nothing less when you looked that good next to him. Sixty had slicked his usually messy hair back and worn a pair of slacks instead of whatever was laying around in his messy room back at Nines’. He’d even sprayed on some cologne, and opted for a white button up to appear a little more…what was the word?

Before you entered the car, you reached up on your tippy toes and brought your mouth to his ear. What you’d whispered to him then had Sixty smirking to himself for the entire car ride.

“ And you look very handsome.” you purred.

Handsome.

That’s the word.

***

Suki hadn’t told him who’d made the reservations at the restaurant, but if Sixty could guess, it was most likely Nines. The place wasn’t too fancy, but it certainly wasn’t a place you’d go to for lunch on a workday either. Connor, Suki and Nines were already sitting by the table when the two of you were escorted inside by one of the waitresses, and Suki was the first to light up with a smile before she stood up from her seat. Connor greeted you shortly after, and while you were busy greeting a shy Cole in Connor’s arm, Sixty felt Nines’ eyes on him.

The younger brother didn’t say a word, but Sixty knew what those silver eyes were suggesting. Nines gave his shoulder a small pat, and then he was next in turn to introduce himself to you. Maybe your look of awe would’ve bothered Sixty more if Nines didn’t have that effect on literally everyone he ever met, but he couldn’t exactly blame you. Nines was a handsome gentleman, and his voice was smooth as silk when he shook your hand and politely introduced himself. You were already getting along with Suki, busy with whatever conversation that’d started between you moments ago when he heard a familiar voice:

“ It’s good to see you, Colin. ”

It was hard to face Connor. Sixty only managed a glance with hands still tucked into his pockets like he had no intention of taking them out anytime soon. Connor didn’t seem surprised by his behavior, but something in his eyes showed signs of hope: like maybe Sixty would change his mind and drag him in for a tight, brotherly hug.

Yeah, as if.

Sixty lowered his gaze for a moment, giving his older brother nothing but a curt nod in response.

“ Seesee.” Cole’s hand was tiny, and it was reaching out to him in a way that Sixty couldn’t ignore. He didn’t need any convincing when it came to greeting his nephew, at least.

“ Oh you remember me, little shrimp? ” Sixty smirked, booping his tiny, button nose.

Cole was probably the only member of the family that Sixty actually liked. He seemed to like his uncle Sixty even though he was a walking fucking mess. It was nice. He came to realize that he liked Cole for the same reasons that he liked you: Neither of you knew about his horrible addiction, and that made him feel normal. It made him feel like a person, not a problem.

While Cole closed his hand around one of his uncle’s fingers, Sixty tried to ignore that Connor was holding him in his arms. There was just something about Connor observing the exchange that made something boil in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t make sense, because Connor seemed pleased. Touched, even. Maybe there was just something about seeing Connor happy and content that ticked Sixty off, and it made him realize why he’d stayed away for so long: Why he’d never bothered to come to his wedding or any of the highlights in his life.

By the time dinner was served, you’d gotten along quite well with everyone around the table. Suki was feeding Cole, who sat in his own little baby chair next to her, while Connor and Nines were discussing various people from the event Sixty had met you in. It seemed like the three of you had a few common friends and acquaintances. You know, small world and all. During that time, Sixty hadn’t said much at all. He’d find himself staring at Connor across the table more times than he liked to admit, and every time he did, he downed more of his wine. It wasn’t just that his older brother was easy to listen to, but he also had a way of effortlessly dragging people’s attention to him in a way Sixty never could. Not even Nines. It was such a stark difference from who he’d been back in high school, and the physical part of that difference was just as clear. Connor looked good, and he sure as hell sounded like felt good, too.

Sixty hated every tiny fucking bit of that.

“ I hope the food is okay, by the way. We weren’t sure what you preferred, but this place has great seafood, so we figured... ” Connor said.

“ Oh, no. It’s great. ” You waved him off with a smile. “ Actually, I wouldn’t mind coming back here in the future. ”

You turned to look at Sixty expectantly, but his eyes were hard and set on Connor across the table. Sixty had already had three glasses of wine at that point, and he’d ignored Nines’ sharp glares for longer than was good for him. Whatever. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

“ Connor’s always had a thing for seafood. Especially shrimp. ” Sixty said, downing more of his wine.

Something shifted in the air, and a puzzled frown settled over your features when your eyes drifted between the two brothers.

“ Isn’t that right, Connor? ”

Apart from meeting Sixty’s hard stare, Connor hadn’t reacted much to that comment. Even as he stared back at his younger brother, his eyes lacked the resentment and darkness that Sixty’s carried.

“ That’s true, actually. ” Connor said, sounding a little embarrassed in a way that just made him sound…humble. He then turned to his wife with a smile that expressed nothing but his love for her, and she returned it.

“ I do love shrimp. ”

No one spoke for a moment, and while Connor had, in some way, eased the tension in the air, it only seemed to magnify the boiling anger inside Sixty. Even though he could feel your questioning eyes and Nines’ warnings on his skin, he still couldn’t tear his eyes off of his older brother before him. His perfect son, his perfect, pregnant wife: his perfect fucking life.

His hand curled into a tight fist under the table, and you noticed. Before you could say something, though, Nines caught your attention by calling your name.

“ Colin gave me a brief summary of your pitch. ” he started, face perfectly calm and collected. “ If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear more about your concept for the interface. ”

Sixty knew what Nines was trying to do, and it was working. It’d be rude for you to dismiss a conversation like that, and that meant that whatever you wanted to ask Sixty had to wait. For now. Some part of Sixty was a little impressed, because while you started talking about your work, he’d somehow managed to calm down a little, too. It was easier to focus on you when Connor wasn’t talking, or paying attention to him. He’d only murmured something in Suki’s ear and they’d shared a smile, but other than that, Connor was simply enjoying his food and listening to your conversation with Nines.

“ Interesting, ” Nines hummed, arms crossed over his chest while he observed you for a moment.

“ Connor and I are familiar with some of Elijah’s work partners. Maybe we can set up a meeting? ” Nines turned to Connor then, as if asking for his opinion.

Connor looked unsure.

“ Actually… I don’t think you should give him the pitch at all. ”

Silence fell over the table, and everyone looked a little surprised. Everyone except Sixty, of course. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, like he didn’t trust whatever his brother was suggesting.

“ And why’s that, Connor? ” Sixty retorted before you had the chance to say something, and again, he didn’t meet the look you gave him.

Connor hesitated, but then he sighed and turned to you.

“ Look, your idea is pretty extraordinary and unique. It would be a waste to sell it for a quarter of its worth to a man with a massive empire like Elijah. If you started your own company and implemented that concept to your own products, you’d be making much more profit. Actually, you’d be making a fortune. ”

While Sixty downed the rest of his wine, you were meeting the pleased smiles offered to you around the table. He couldn’t exactly argue that Connor’s idea was bad, but some part of him hated that he was the reason you were so stunned about something you were so passionate about.

Shouldn’t that have been him?

“ That’s…I’ve never thought of it like that. ” You admitted, deep in thought.

Sixty’s leg had been restless under the table for a while. It was a sign of his frustration, a sign of the urges that he’d been trying to drown out with the wine, and a sign of his newfound possessiveness. None of it made sense, though. Connor was quite literally sitting before him with his wife and child, and Sixty felt the need to mark his territory like some fucking bloodhound.

“ You should give yourself a little more credit. ” Connor said, offering you a smile. “ You’ve worked hard, and that deserves a proper reward. ”

You almost jumped when Sixty’s hand suddenly found your knee under the table. He wasn’t looking at you, posture completely laid back and relaxed while you stared at him next you. He sipped on some water, and gave you a brief glance.

The evening had gone by smoothly, for most part, but Sixty knew he’d acted strange, which meant that you’d be bombarding him with questions as soon as you went back to the car. That didn’t stop his hand from slipping under your dress, and sliding up your thigh, though. You cleared your throat, reaching one of your hands down to discreetly grab his wrist. And then he felt you close your legs and push his hand away.

Sixty almost scoffed.

“ What’s the matter with you? ” you whispered harshly, leaning to his ear. Sixty could see that you were trying your best not to draw any attention to the two of you, and it seemed to be working fine, for now.

At that point, Sixty had already regretted his decision to let you meet his family. Something had been building inside him since the moment he’d laid eyes on Connor again, and whatever it was, it fed that nasty little parasite inside him. There was no wine in the world that could stop his skin from crawling, and Sixty realized there was only one way for him to deal with himself before he lost you to his own stupid, impulsivity.

So he stood up from his seat and excused himself.

And as he headed towards the restrooms, he didn’t look back.

***

Like any other proper addict, Sixty had smuggled a small dose of that weird powder into the inner pocket of his blazer. He wasn’t sure what he felt about it, but he was in no condition to be picky about what drug he was trying to survive on. This shit was his only chance to endure the night before you or someone else slapped him across the face.

He’d locked himself into one of the stalls in the restroom, and he’d been staring at the small plastic bag for a long moment: like he was trying to figure it out. It was odd that he hadn’t downed it already, because his skin was itching and his heart was pumping in a way that usually left no room for any sort of patience. Something was holding him back from snorting it, and that something was you. It contradicted everything that made sense to him normally, because he was ugly and nasty without the drugs, and yet, he couldn’t take his own version of a cure.

What if it made him worse?

What if it pushed him so low that you’d suspect him for something more than just being a little tipsy? At that point, Sixty was mentally fighting that greedy little parasite inside him. What it wanted was clear, It always was, but Sixty was more worried about what you’d want, and it didn’t like that.

He was sweating now, and he decided to take a seat on the lidded toilet for a moment while he cursed his own existence a few times. This was the part in every book and movie where he’d make the right decision and make you proud, but Sixty knew he wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the main fucking character and this wasn’t a damn movie where everything would turn into rainbows and sunshine. Reality was a bitch, and that fucking powder was the only way he could deal with it.

So he opened the small plastic bag, and fed that fucking parasite inside him for the millionth time.

***

It was unclear to him how long he’d been gone, but whatever was in that line he snorted was working wonders on him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while, and even though the aftermath usually left him looking a little rough, whatever this powder was had the opposite effect on him. Sixty looked far more awake and relaxed when he walked out of the stall and–

Saw Nines walking towards him.

“ I’m okay, I just needed a b- Hey, what the fuck!? ” Nines had suddenly grabbed two fists of his shirt and slammed him against one of the stall doors. Sixty was shocked. Not once in their entire lives had Nines ever laid hands on him like this, and that only meant that whatever he’d done was really, really bad.

They were lucky no one else was inside, because whatever anger Sixty had dulled with a line of powder seemed to have crawled inside his usually composed younger brother. Nines’ silver orbs were sharp and stern, and Sixty could’ve sworn that he was struggling to steady his breaths.

He was in deep shit.

“ I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I assumed that you were too proud to ask for money. I assumed you stole from me because you wanted to impress her. ” Nines said, voice shaky and low and so fucking dangerous that Sixty felt a shiver crawl down his spine. Of course he knew about the fucking ring. How was he ever so stupid to think that Nines wouldn’t know that he’d stolen from him?

“ I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! ” Sixty hissed, trying to break free from Nines’ iron grip on him. He did what what every fucking addict would do: deny, deny, deny.

But whatever act Sixty had decided to put up, Nines wasn’t having it. Not tonight. Sixty saw him clench his jaw, looking more riled up than before.

“ Is this all she is to you, Colin?” Nines asked, eyes narrowing. “ A prize for you to show off and rub in Connor’s face? ”

No.

Fuck no.

“ Let go of me! ” Sixty shouted, and Nines responded by clasped a large hand over his mouth, muffling his screams.

“ What kind of man are you!? ” Nines growled, and Sixty glared up at him through the annoying fucking tears that’d gathered in his eyes. Maybe Nines knew that Sixty didn’t have an answer to that question, because he never removed that unforgiving hand and some part of Sixty was grateful for that. Sixty had asked himself that same question while you’d slept in his arms one night, and he hadn’t really come to a proper conclusion.

He’d turned completely silent, but Nines still didn’t move. He was looming over his older brother in a way that reminded Sixty what Nines did to bad people for a living.

“ Whatever game you’re playing will end right now. ” Nines said after a brief silence. “ You will stop trying to embarrass our brother in front of his family, and you will stop touching that woman without her consent. ”

Sixty was struggling to control the pathetic mixture of sobs and ragged breaths he was letting out against his brother’s palm: but his his eyes never stopped glaring up at him.

“ Have I made myself clear, Colin? ”

Sixty felt drained, embarrased and every fucked up thing under the sun. He knew Nines was right: he’d known even before Nines had confronted him about it. Sixty had been selfish with you since day one, and he’d been so good at it that he hadn’t even allowed you to notice the position you were in. Maybe this was the wake up call he needed: Maybe Nines was showing him mercy right now.

Even though he’d normally rather swallow venom than his own pride, Sixty still decided to nod.

“ Good. ”

A few, long moments passed before Nines finally decided to let him go, and at that point Sixty had no fight left in him. He stayed long after Nines left him in the restrooms, and when he finally pulled himself together and went out again, you looked more concerned than angry with him.

***

Sometimes Sixty felt like he was on autopilot. He could say and do things that he didn’t really pay attention to while his mind was taking him through a maze of thoughts. Just like he expected, you’d asked him a million questions in the car, and Sixty had answered them all in autopilot. He wasn’t sure what he’d really said, but whatever it was had been good enough for you. The details were blurry: a sincere apology, something about living in his brother’s shadow and reacting badly to red wine.

He should’ve picked up on the signs his body was giving him the moment his lips began to feel numb, but Sixty was still too stuck on what had happened in the restrooms with Nines to pay that any mind. Something about Nines, the always calm and composed brother, losing his patience with him was more alarming than his own body shutting down bit by bit thanks to that odd drug.

Autopilot was working for him, though, because even though he couldn’t feel his fingers, they still worked over your clit when he had you to himself back at your apartment. He kissed you hard, and you gasped against his numb lips when he pushed a third finger into your heat and slowly opened you up for him. Somehow that represented him in more ways than one. He’d been opening you up and crawling inside you like a parasite since the day you decided to sit with him at that bar, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d devoured you completely. Maybe not even then.

“ Sixty, please, ” you moaned, clawing at his back when he slowly pulled his numb fingers out of you. It made him remember that day you’d told him about your pitch: how the mere brush of your fingers over his own had sent sparks along every tiny little vein inside his body. And now? Now he was holding his cock in his hand and burying himself to the hilt without feeling anything.

You bit down on his shoulder, trying to muffle your moans when he started pumping himself into you at a harsh pace. Sixty didn’t know if he was in denial or if he simply refused to give up, but the truth was simple: every piece of you was being taken away from him because of that evil substance inside his body, and there was nothing he could do about it. It almost made him want to cry. To scream.

“ I… I love you, ” You were holding his face in your hands, eyes lidded and heavy with all the love and adoration you had for him while his hips kept snapping against yours like he was a machine following a loop of instructions. He listened to your little gasps, watched how drunk you were on him and what he was doing to you, and he couldn’t feel a damn thing. Sixty’s breath hitched, and his vision started to blur.

Your hands.

He couldn’t even feel your fucking hands.

“ I love you. ” he said, feeling so numb but so much at the same time and he couldn’t make sense of any of it. Sixty didn’t realize that tears were trickling down his cheeks, and even though you wiped them away with more love and affection, it still didn’t fix him. It was such a selfish thing: that parasite inside him, and now it had stolen him from you so completely that he felt like a ghost in your arms.

By the time he stopped moving over you, you’d already realized that something was awfully wrong.

“ Sixty? ” you called, brows pinching together.

His eyes had turned dull and unfocused, like he wasn’t really there even though he was staring down at you, and that made all the alarm clocks ring inside your head. You sat up, and Sixty’s body swayed for a second before it dropped like a sack on the bed.

“ Sixty! ” You tried to shake him, but no matter how much you tried, his eyes were still dull and distant. He was starting to drift in and out of consciousness, and something about it was familiar. His body was burning and his pulse was through the roof, and suddenly he could hear those familiar tunes again: Sumo’s happy barks, and the morning sun.

“ Sixty, you’re scaring me! ”

You shook him again, and his eyes opened for a moment to see your crying face over him. He tried to move his arms, but his body was a weight he couldn’t seem to carry. He drifted away some more, and when he saw you again, your phone was in your hand. That could only mean one thing.

You were calling for an ambulance.

“ No… ” his voice was barely there, but it was enough to get your attention.

“ Stay with me, Six! Please! ”

His breaths were quick and shallow, and even though it took everything within him to form his next word, Sixty knew that it was his only chance of surviving:

“ Nines… ” he croaked.

Call Nines.

#I just know i'm gonna get bombarded with messages and im ready to get punished #i honestly deserve anything you guys throw at me #i cant even deny it #phew #dbh #detroit become human #rk800 x reader #rk800 60 x reader #dbh sixty x reader #dbh sixty #rk800 60 #rk800 sixty #rk900 #rk900 nines #rk800 connor #sixty x reader #tmd

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alovesongshewrote · 2 years

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Is There a Doctor on this Plane? (Yes, yes there is.) - P2 | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot: Eddie faces the consequences of his run into danger, and you, a med-student, stay by his side. Or you try to. You do need to eat. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word count: 3,281

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR, VOLUME 2. hospitals, nightmares, horror elements, reader experiences mild hallucinations

Disclaimer 1: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

Disclaimer 2: I know we have fun here reading self insert fics about eddie munson the fictional character, but for the love of god do not go to his actor's house. i doubt anyone in my particular audience would get up to that shit, but still, it's worth saying.

Tags: @twistedhistory

Hours after you escaped the Upside Down, you were behind the wheel of Steve’s car. You were also in an entirely different state. And you were in a hospital parking lot. Eddie was in said hospital, Dustin was back in Hawkins, and you? You were alone.

That really wasn’t a good thing to be.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Eddie’s lifeless body lying in Dustin’s arms. You had to remind yourself that he was alive, that you had saved him, but it really wasn’t working out. All you could think of was his ribs cracking beneath your hands. All you could remember was the moment you realized his pulse had stopped. All you could see was Dustin, a child, weeping over the bloodied body of his friend because you had failed them.

You saw it happen, over and over and over again. You were so, so tired of it. You had no peace. Even when you slept all you saw was Eddie suffering and Dustin crying. All of your failures were painted out before you, and there was no escape.

What’s more, you were kind of pissed at Eddie. You didn’t want to be pissed at Eddie- what he did was brave, and he was a hero, and you loved him- but that was all part of it in the end. You loved him. You needed him. And you weren’t the only one who did. He had friends and loved ones, he had a life, and a future, and he was willing to give up on all of it for a few minutes of extra time that you weren’t sure anyone actually needed. You were so angry, and so hurt, and you felt like it was your fault- like you didn’t do enough to stop him.

It was too much. Your feelings were tearing you apart, ripping into you like the demobats had just hours before. Guilt ate at your ribs, anger mauled your heart to pieces, and grief threatened to consume every part of you.

So, you rolled up the windows of Steve’s car, and you screamed until your throat was raw. You sobbed, mourning loudly and angrily. You hit the steering wheel over and over again, taking your aggression on a very undeserving car. You broke down, and you broke down hard, and when you were done, you just felt empty. Tired. Lonely.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself now. Eddie was safe with professionals more experienced than you. Dustin was safe with everyone else in Hawkins. Your own injuries had been checked over, and you had been discharged. What else could you do?

You felt lost- so, so fucking lost. And it made you think of your high school graduation of all things.

In your senior year, you weren’t sure what you were going to do with your life. You had ambitions, aspirations, but you were too much of a coward to consider them seriously. It was Eddie who had encouraged you to leave Hawkins. He wanted you to achieve your goals. He wanted you to succeed. He wanted you to do what he couldn’t and run like hell out of Hawkins. And you did.

You remembered the day your admission letter came in from your first choice university- he was more excited than you were. If you remembered correctly, he literally jumped up and down. You thought it was adorable, honestly, so, of course, you laughed at him. In retaliation, he pulled you up from your desk and made you get excited with him- and once you had, he teased you gently. His eyes were bright, and his laugh and his smile were blinding, shining like gold in your memories.

You remembered the day you graduated, where, once again, he was more excited than you. That night, you really couldn’t leave each other alone. While the rest of the graduating class went out to parties and social celebrations, you and Eddie had your own little party involving several movies and a teensy bit of underage drinking. You fell asleep leaning against him that night, with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist.

You remembered the day you left Hawkins. He helped you pack. He reassured you when you started to doubt yourself. He helped you move your things into your car. When that was done, he found you standing in your empty room, staring at the now barren walls.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I am. Or, I think I am, it’s just,” you turned to face him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m flattered, sweetheart. Aaaaabsolutely flattered,” he crossed the room until he was standing in front of you, and he gently cradled your face in his hands, “But you’ve gotta leave the Shire now, little hobbit. It’s your time.”

“Hey!” you laughed, pulling away from his hold, “I am not a hobbit!”

“Mmm, are you sure about that?”

“I am not a hobbit, you dick!”

He gasped, throwing himself back with a hand over his heart, “You wound me, you foul hobbit creature!”

“You little- get over here!” you smacked him on the arm a few thousand times until you were both laughing your asses off. Of course, you didn’t really hurt him, but that didn’t stop him from complaining.

“Ow, ow! You’re gonna leave bruises. What are your hands made of? Steel?”

“Mithril, actually,” you said with a smirk. Your smile was quick to fall, though, as you took Eddie in for what you knew would be one of the last times for a long while.

“Hey,” he asked, reaching out and poking your face, “What’s wrong, (L/N)?”

“I-” you cut yourself off, trying to choke down the tears that, to your horror, were springing to your eyes, “I’m just gonna miss you.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be a doctor or something? I thought you were smarter than that.”

You pouted at him, giving his arm another whack. He laughed at you, but his voice changed from teasing to comforting in an instant, “What I mean to say is, everything’s gonna be okay, okay? It’s not like this is goodbye forever. You’ll come back and visit, and you’ll be an awesome doctor who fixes sprained bones-”

“You know it’s broken bones.”

“Do I? I mean, I’m not the doctor here, so-”

“Oh, shut up. Y’know, you’re gonna regret teasing me one day,” you for the door, casting a glance his way, “Walk me out, would you ”

He did. He walked you out of your house, and kind of walked you out of his life for the next two years. He missed you, of course, and you missed him. But Eddie really believed that it was for the best that you escape Hawkins. You had bigger and better things to do with your life than stick around and wait for him.

And yet, that was exactly what you were doing. You were sitting in Steve “the Hair” Harrington’s car, in a hospital parking lot, and you were waiting for him. It was almost funny how much he would hate that. How much he would hate you sitting idle, doing nothing, waiting for him. He would hate how much effort you’d gone through to save him. He would hate how much you loved him, if he knew. After all, it was him- HIM. He never thought he was worth it, but you always did.

So, you waited. You waited, and you promised yourself that you would never leave him again.

You did need to eat though. And shower. You still had Upside-Down juice all over you, after all. With a shaky breath, you started the car and went back to the dorm room that you’d left Eddie for in the first place. The dorms were relatively abandoned, your university peers taking off for the break so that they could relax, have some fun, and maybe see their loved ones. That had been your plan once.

It was almost funny how quickly things had changed. Instead of relaxing, the boy you’d pined for years was almost instantly accused of a murder he didn’t commit. Instead of having fun, you had to fight monsters in an alternate dimension. And as for your loved ones? I feel like that question answers itself.

The door to your dorm room opened with a creak. You took a few steps in before you practically melted to the floor in a puddle of anguish. You didn’t have any more tears left in you that night, so you kind of just laid there, empty. You barely had the strength to get up and shower, and once you did, you instantly collapsed into bed. You were drained. You were done. You just needed a nap. You drifted off slowly, your eyes fluttering shut as your mind finally fell to darkness and peace.

Obviously, that didn’t last.

When you opened your eyes, you were back there, in the Upside Down. The air around you was freezing, and filled with those fucking particles that got stuck in your hair. You tried to take a step forward, but you found that you could not move your feet. You were stuck, frozen solid in the middle of this hell dimension.

You could hear coughing- someone choking on their own blood as they tried to gasp out their last breaths. It was the sound of a dying man. The sound was sick, wet, and at first, faint. Then, as the world around you flickered, it grew louder, louder and louder until it surrounded you. You could practically feel the desperate gasps in your chest. Your throat hurt as if you were the one choking. When you finally gained the mobility to look down, your body was covered in blood.

His blood.

You gasped. The noise was sharp and hard, and it silenced the world around you- but only for a moment.

The next sound you heard was the cracking of bones.

His bones, beneath your hands, snapping and giving way to the force you applied as you tried to save his life. Your bones, snapping and bending as punishment for something- for failing him. You’d failed him, you’d let him die, and as your mouth filled with the taste of blood, you remembered his lifeless eyes burning into yours.

And then, you didn’t have to remember.

Then, his body was on the ground in front of you, lying broken and dead, slowly rotting away as you watched. You didn’t have to remember because your brain wouldn’t let you forget.

Your breath came harder, faster, as you watched the face of the man you loved dissolve before you. Your heart raced as his skin split, revealing blood and sinew beneath it. A panic attack hit you as you watched him die, again and again.

The screeching of those goddamned bats filled the air as you fell to your knees. You wanted to scream with them, but your voice simply refused to work. Instead, your body was racked with silent sobs as you dealt with the fallout of your failures. You could hear his voice in your head- his last words, his cries of pain, all of it.

It killed you inside, and you let it, and even when your eyes snapped open and you finally woke up from that wretched nightmare, you could still hear him.

You didn’t manage to fall asleep again that night.

When the sun rose, you just kind of glared at it before pulling yourself out of bed and forcing yourself to get ready for the day. You looked a little worse for wear, but quite honestly, you couldn’t be paid to give a shit. You had things to do.

The first thing was to get breakfast. You hadn’t eaten the night before, and somehow, your nightmare hadn’t destroyed your appetite. You were almost impressed with yourself on that front.

The second thing you had to do was figure out a way to contact Dustin and everyone else back in Hawkins. Primarily, you wanted to make sure that they were okay, and that they knew you and Eddie were alive. You also assumed that Dustin and Eddie’s uncle would either want more details on Eddie’s condition, or they’d want to venture out for a visit. Either way, you needed to communicate with them for that to work. You knew vague things about Dustin’s whole “Cerebro” project, but you weren’t sure how it functioned. If Eddie was awake, you would’ve asked him, but he wasn’t, and you were still alone. You knew your roommate had left some kind of radio/walkie-talkie thing in your dorm. You turned it on and left it that way, just in case. You were really just throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping for the best with that one, but at this point, when were you not?.

The last thing you had to do was actually check on Eddie. You kind of dreaded that part.

The hospital smelled like chemicals and cleaning products. Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you expected. The walls and floors were a blinding white. Fluorescents flickered slightly, lighting the building in an unsettling way. The air was chilled, which only served to remind you of the nightmare you had the night before. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

The hallways felt impossibly long- as if they stretched out past oblivion and into nothingness. Part of you wished that you could just follow them into the void, but you couldn’t. You had something more important to do.

You hesitated before you pushed open the door to Eddie’s room. You were illogically scared of what you would find behind it, kind of expecting to see a corpse lying in the hospital bed. The sad thing is, you weren’t far off.

Eddie looked like absolute shit. Dark bags had formed under his eyes. His already pale skin was borderline translucent. Dark bruises outlined his face and covered his arms. Red stitches glared at you from his pale skin. He was plugged into a billion tubes. Each of the tubes served a purpose- each one of them kept him functioning. The heart monitor at his side beeped at a constant rhythm. His chest moved slowly, up and down, and up and down, and up and down again. He was alive. You knew he was alive. Everything told you he was alive.

But if you didn’t know better, you could’ve mistaken him for a dead man. A corpse waiting to be wheeled off to the morgue. He looked so fragile like this. Weak, almost. It felt wrong.

The nurses and doctors had done an excellent job of patching him up, a job that was far beyond your capabilities, but it still hurt so much to see him like this. It felt like it was your fault, and it felt like it was his, and you were just so tired, and so angry, and so empty, and before you knew it, you were in tears.

You weren’t sure if he could hear you crying, but you knew that if he could, this would be a special kind of torture for him. Hearing you cry, knowing that he caused it and there was nothing he could do about it? Honestly, he’d probably rather die. Sucks to be him, I guess.

You sighed, and all but collapsed into a shitty hospital chair near his bed, “You’re a huge asshole,” you whispered, “You know that, right?”

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. You continued anyway.

“You almost fucking died on me. And on the kid. That’s a dick move, Munson, even if you did help save the world. He’s gonna carry that with him for the rest of his life, y’know? And Steve, Nancy, Robin, they all saw what kind of shape you were in, they aren’t gonna forget that. And I- I’m-” your voice threatened to break, “Well, you don’t need to know that, do you?”

You paused before continuing, “You’re safe now, by the way. So is the kid. Dustin’s in Hawkins, and you are not there because I’m not in the mood to see you get your ass handed to you by an angry mob. I rolled a metaphorical nat twenty saving you last time, I don’t want to try and do that again.”

Another pause, then, “You scared me, y’know? I… I thought I lost you. I did lose you for a second there, and I mean, we aren’t out of the woods yet, I might lose you again. And I’m not the only one who would lose something. Your uncle, Dustin, and your friends. I-”

You paused, taking a moment to dry your tears. The next time you spoke, your voice was much quieter.

“Please don’t make me lose you again. Don’t make us lose you again.”

You sat in relative silence for a few moments, just watching him breathe for a moment. The beeping of the heart monitor continued on. It was almost a comforting sound. Combined with the general chatter of the hospital outside, you found yourself nearing sleep.

When your eyes shut, images of Eddie’s face, covered with blood and contorted with pain, flashed through your mind. You jolted back up, nearly falling out of your seat.

“Jesus-!” you exclaimed, “Jesus…”

You put your head in your hands and sighed. You tried to shut your eyes again, hoping for peace. Instead, all you got were flashes of memories that you would much rather forget. As you looked up, those flashes bled into the real world, and for a moment, Eddie’s living breathing body was replaced with a corpse.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” you hissed, “I- I can’t be here right now. I have to go, I can’t-”

You stood, quickly collecting your things. You made a beeline for the door across the room, but before you left you stopped. You took a few steps towards Eddie. His eyes were closed. He still looked dead, but when you thought about it, you realized he also looked calm. Relaxed. You hoped that, wherever his mind was, he was okay. Even though this wasn’t the best way to go about it, you had to admit, he deserved a break.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? And-” you slipped one of your hands into his, squeezing it, “And you’d better be here when I get back. Got that?”

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. Still, you squeezed his hand again and whispered, “Good.”

When you got into the elevator, you completely broke down for what felt like the billionth time in the past few days. Tears fell from your eyes faster than you could wipe them away. Every attempt you made to catch your breath was met with failure. You felt so tired and so empty, and you just wanted to sleep, but you COULDN’T, because of the NIGHTMARES.

You needed a coffee. You needed a coffee so badly.

Not wanting to spend another second in the suffocating antiseptic-smelling air of the hospital, you took off for your dorm, almost breaking several traffic laws on your way over. The second you got in, you started your coffee maker. The soft sound of bubbling water soothed you as you removed your jacket and shoes. You collapsed on your bed and let yourself listen, trying to relax for just a second.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut, a sharp static sound cut through the calming sounds of your coffee pot. The radio.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), if you can hear this, come in. This is Dustin, I repeat, this is Dustin. (Y/N), if you can hear this-”

“Dustin!” you exclaimed, grabbing the radio, “I’m here! I can hear you. I’m here.”

#x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things spoilers #stranger things volume 2 spoilers

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jmagnabo92 · 2 years

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Drabble - Gryffindor’s Pet

Rather than live in a cave during Book 4, Sirius comes up with a better idea.

***

It’s a risk, Sirius knows, to suggest that he stay in the castle, specifically Gryffindor tower, with all of these ministry people and the press having access this year, but he needs to satisfy his worries about Harry by being nearby. He just had a bad feeling, and he didn’t want to wait for a letter after something happens. He wanted to be here.

So, he made a meeting with Dumbledore, and he lays out his plan to be Gryffindor’s pet, and his reasons why he couldn’t just live in the cave in Hogsmeade. He finishes with, “…I know that it’s a risk, but if we just tell them that I’m Gryffindor’s new pet because last year a supposed mass murderer broke in twice – it would work. Tell them that it’s for safety reasons, and if you don’t want bias then get a pet for all of the common rooms.” He pauses, “I just – I’m worried and after everything that has been happening at the school…”

“It’s dangerous,” Dumbledore states.

“It’s safer than hiring Voldemort as a teacher, a Basilisk roaming around the castle, or dementors at the doors. Karkaroff is a known death eater and there’s a deadly tournament going to start soon. Given that Harry has somehow been involved in some seriously dangerous things in the last three years, I can’t help the foreboding feeling that he’s going to somehow end up in this tournament. Especially given that the dream he had involving the rat and Voldemort. They were plotting his death and someone here at Hogwarts … I just – I can’t just sit in a cave and wonder. I want to be here for him if the worst happens.”

Dumbledore looks uncertain, when McGonagall states, “He has a point. Hogwarts hasn’t exactly been safe for Harry, and as long as he’s careful…”

Dumbledore nods, “Alright. You can be the Gryffindor’s new pet.”

“Thank you.”

***

Sirius as Padfoot follows McGonagall into the common room, where every Gryffindor is waiting for the announcement that McGonagall had spread the word about. She uses the voice amplifying charm to gain everyone’s attention. “As you are all aware, last year there were several break-ins. As such to better protect you, the students, Professor Dumbledore has decided to get the Gryffindors a guard dog. His name is Snuffles and I expect you all to take good care of him and he will protect you.”

He looks around to all of the students, some of whom look to be in shock when suddenly he’s bombarded by students wanting to pet him. “Have fun,” McGonagall says before leaving him to the mercies of schoolchildren, some of whom having bows and hair clips and maybe this wasn’t his best decision…

***

Hours later, he lays curled up by the Gryffindor fire in the armchair that he’d seen Harry sitting in earlier. He’s a bit upset that Harry hadn’t approached him with all of the other students. Obviously, he couldn’t reach out to Harry while others were there, but Harry had gone up to the dorm before all of the other students had and he couldn’t talk to him with his dormmates around.

He hopes that Harry isn’t angry with him, but with him actively avoiding him by going to the dorm early, he’s certain that he is.

Did he mess everything up? He wonders.

“Padfoot?” a soft voice says from him. He opens his eyes and sees Harry. Harry smiles, softly at him. “Everyone’s gone to bed – can we talk?”

Sirius immediately transforms, “Hey kid.”

“Er hi, what are you doing here?” Harry asks. “You could get into trouble and go back to Azkaban and – and I don’t want you to suffer because of me.”

“Harry, kid, I need you to listen to me very carefully – I am your godfather, not the other way around. I want to protect you, I want to be here for you, and considering the little slips in your letters, I can’t help thinking that something is going to happen this year and I want to be here to protect you,” Sirius states.

Harry looks down at his feet, clearly upset, “But I’m not worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Sirius states. “Even if I did get caught, it would be on me not you and I want to be here for you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Harry retorts, obviously ignoring everything Sirius just said. “I don’t want you to risk being here.”

“Well, too bad. Even if I wasn’t here – here, as in Gryffindor’s new guard dog, I would be living in a cave in Hogsmeade so that I could be nearby in case something happens. I only left last year so I could lure the dementors away and I should’ve returned sooner, but I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius puts an arm around his shoulders. “I’ve let you down before, but I’m not going to do it again. Let me worry about you – don’t worry about me. It’s going to be fine.”

“You promise?” Harry questions, looking hopeful. “Because I do want you around, but I –”

Sirius smiles, “I’m here to help you – don’t worry about me. I’ll be a lovable guard dog and no one will even know it’s me.”

Harry laughs, “Everyone did seem to love you today… Snuffles.”

Sirius laughs, “Yeah, McGonagall told me Padfoot was too obvious so I had to come up with another name – she thinks it’s hilariously cute for such a big and could be menacing dog.”

“Like Fluffy,” Harry chuckles. “Anyway, I am glad you’re here, as long as no one figures it out.”

“Well, the only way anyone who doesn’t know would is if we aren’t careful or they found the map, but I think we’ll be okay,” Sirius promises. “And I’m here to talk whenever you want.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Harry yawns and says, “I should probably go to bed, but maybe we can talk tomorrow? About my dream and what has happened and stuff?”

Sirius grins, “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

“Good. Night, Sirius.”

“Night, Kid.”

#Sirius Black #Harry James Potter #Sirius and Harry #sirius and harry saturday #Padfoot #Drabble #AU book 4 #Sirius and Harry bonding #Good godfather Sirius Black #Sirius & Harry #Harry Potter #Harry J Potter #minerva mcgonagall #Albus Dumbledore

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anchanted-one · 1 year

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Book of Storms: The Legend of Vajra

01. Newcomer to Tython

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/108600246

Tython, 4 ATC

“Hold!” Lieutenant Taura Serris screamed at the top of her lungs. “HOLD, DAMN YOU! REINFORCEMENTS SHOULD BE HERE SOON!” But it felt like a waste of effort. All she’d had to defend these grounds was three squads—one hundred and eight rifles—and the dozen or so Knights overseeing the training exercises.

No one could have predicted that they were going to be attacked in such overwhelming numbers. There weren’t even supposed to be any enemies here! Tython was supposed to be a plum assignment, for crying out loud! Where did these primitives even acquire blasters from?

Yet here she was, sixty men down, and even two Jedi killed. The trainees hadn’t lasted long at all, which was no surprise since the oldest among them was fifteen. All but the eldest weren’t even combat trained yet. Not to mention, their sabers were designed for training, and couldn’t kill these beasts when swarmed like this!

The savages surged closer to their defensive lines, recklessly charging ahead, taking grievous wounds most sentients would take effort to avoid. Slowly but surely, Taura knew they would be overwhelmed. That was when a speeder arrived from the Master’s Retreat.

At first, Taura felt her spirits buoyed—perhaps a Master had come to save them! But she felt hugely disappointed to see that it was another trainee, an alien with four arms. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and his Lightsaber held the tell-tale signs of being a modified training saber.

“WHY DID YOU EVEN COME HERE!?” she called crossly. “WE NEED A REAL JEDI, NOT A HALF-PINT! JUST TAKE THE OTHER STUDENTS AND LEAVE, SINCE YOU’RE ALREADY HERE! WE’LL HOLD EM OFF!” The boy didn’t seem to hear her. For a second, he surveyed the scene, looking aghast. But then he shook off his dismay and got to work.

“WAIT!”

But he had already begun his attack. He seemed to disappear for a second as he ran at—and leapt over—the barricade. He landed in the thick of the beasts, and instantly the sounds of fighting got heated. Taura ran to catch a glimpse of the foolish child, perhaps help her men blast him out of danger… only to find that she needn’t have worried.

He was doing just swell, neatly dancing around the monsters’ clumsy attacks and finishing them off. Not efficiently—his attenuated blade did not allow for one-hit-kills—but it was definitely impressive. And while his Lightsaber was weak on the offense, it had no problems deflecting blaster bolts.

Taura was simply awed. Even the Knights had not made a dent this hard!

Almost single-handedly, the child seemed to break the tide. The invaders were soon laser-focused on him, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers and weight, but he refused to be pinned down. He rolled between their legs as they tightened up around him, moving at such speed that the confused mess of animals didn’t even realize he’d relocated until another group had roared a warning elsewhere. So frequent were these instant relocations that the creatures began to panic, unable to tell whether they were facing one boy or a dozen.

And it wasn’t like he was the only thing killing them. Her soldiers never stopped shooting, even though they were momentarily forgotten, even though their actions might bring their attention back. Because the boy couldn’t keep this up forever… no one could. Soon, fatigue or bad luck would see him dead. Especially if he couldn’t take them down in one swing…

“USE THE FORCE!” a critically wounded Knight hollered. “STRENGTHEN YOUR ARMS, YOUR BLOws….” He passed out from the effort, but the boy heard him. He began throwing tremendous weight behind his blows, finally managing to bring them down with one swing or so each. The Flesh Raiders began to well and truly panic, and some turned tail and ran.

Soon, the reinforcements arrived in the form of dropships, infantry armed with rifles, assault cannons, and rocket launchers. The heavier firepower was more than enough to drive the remaining beasts back for now, and their own lack of heavy weapons meant they couldn’t bring down the dropships.

The boy fell back. The survivors cheered loudly when he returned. Some guards brushed his hair vigorously while others lifted him onto their backs. There was a stray shot from somewhere which he casually deflected. He clearly didn’t let his guard down easy.

“That’s enough!” Taura ordered. “You’re making him an easy target. Put him down!”

The men complied, and she stepped forward and ruffled his hair. “What’s your name, Jedi?”

“Vajra,” the boy piped up. Crikey, even his voice was soft and child-like! “Knight Weller sent me.”

“Clearly, Knight Weller knew what he was doing!” she smiled. “I’ve never seen anything like that!” She handed him a Lightsaber from one of the Fallen Jedi. “Here. I think you’ll find it easier with this.”

The boy weighed the Lightsaber in his hand and shook his head. “It’s too big for my hand,” he said. He looked around. “I was told there were more Students out here,” he said. “At least a hundred.”

“Many were killed,” Taura said regretfully. “These damn beasts came in waves, even the supervising Knights were taken completely by surprise!”

“You said ‘many’ were killed,” Vajra said. “Does that mean some still live?”

“Yes. Many were taken prisoner. I don’t know why.” Actually, she had a strong suspicion, but there was no need to alarm him or the other children. “Look, you’ve done enough. The reinforcements have started coming in—”

“So have theirs,” Sergeant Jose interrupted. He was looking into the distance using his binocs and looked grim. “There’s more of these creatures coming out from that turn over there, seven klicks out. According to the maps, there should be an unexplored tunnel over there.”

Taura cursed. “We don’t have the numbers to take that! We’ll have to call Coruscant, request a full army—”

“The Treaty of Coruscant won’t allow them to muster an army without getting noticed,” Jose objected.

“Curse that bloody treaty! If we can’t hold here, the Jedi have to abandon Tython.”

“I’ll push them back.” Vajra had been carefully disassembling the Lightsaber she’d offered him earlier, taking out its power cell and crystal and placing it into his own. “If you can ask the reinforcements to cover me.”

“That Lightsaber wasn’t meant for that kind of output,” Knight Relnex warned, as he gingerly got back to his feet and tested his own sword-arm. “You’ll have maybe an hour or two before it overheats.”

“I don’t have a choice,” the boy said. “Your Lightsabers are just a bit too big for me.”

“Of course,” the Knight nodded with a deep sigh. “With luck, one hour will be all you need. Your skills certainly are impressive for your age.”

“I’ll make a push for the cave,” the boy said. “I’ll save any classmates I meet along the way.”

“You’re shaking,” Taura said quietly. She saw sudden dread blossom in his eyes again and realized again just how young he was.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, though they all knew it was a lie. Taura cursed herself for not being a super soldier; for relying on a mere child. She radioed Captain Mark to let him know the plan. Desperate as it was, there was no other way.

If the Jedi were forced off Tython, there was no other place they could go to rebuild.

Vajra Devarath did not even remember the first engagement. He had leapt off the barricade, sailed past the final rank of defenders, and straight into the thick of the enemy ranks. He had dived in and out of their midst, slicing at their chests and bellies with his blue blade. His hastily modified training saber slipped under the enemies’ guards well enough but required two or three strikes to take one down. And it wasn’t strong enough to shear off his enemies’ weapons as a regular Lightsaber would, either.

The enemy was a rather alarming-looking species who he only knew by the grotesque moniker ‘Flesh Raiders’. Despite this distaste, he had to admit that they fit the appellation.

At six-and-a-half feet tall, they were as wide-shouldered as the Gamorreans he had seen passing through Uphrades sometimes. And to top it all off, they were covered in an obscene armor of flesh which offered some protection from small arms except at close range. And they were strong too; he saw one with a hammer crush a rock the size of his head with a single stroke.

But hideous though they were, they were living beings; and each non-fatal strike made them shriek in pain. The blood from their wounds baked from the heat of his blade, and the stench filled his nose. Revulsion filled his chest, and his mind froze over. His body moved on pure instinct now, evading and striking at his foes as they came; escaping from all attempts at getting hemmed in, and sowing enough chaos that the Raiders were left confused.

Before he knew it, the skirmish was over. Reinforcements had arrived to turn the confused mess into a rout.

It was then that he realized that he had been keeping count. Ninety-two.

The number rocked around his head, mixed with the countless cries of pain and death. He bit his lip and made his way back to the platform, where the survivors cheered his victory. He had a few moments’ reprieve, then had to head out again.

The guard with the kind eyes saw through his façade but was unable to stop him. He wished she had. He wished she had ejected him from the fighting, told him he had done enough. Ninety-two was a kill count he’d expected to rack up over his first decade in service, not his very first day on Tython! And it was going to be a whole lot more before the day was out.

“You lead the way,” the aged Knight ordered him. “I’ll protect your flank. I hate to say it, but I’m not as good as I used to be.”

“Yes, Master.”

Vajra shot out of the barricade like a bolt of lightning, his modified Lightsaber cutting through over a dozen Raiders in his path. It was easier now; his opponents did not suffer much. But that brought its own problem. Now it felt like he was callously dealing death.

“Vajra!” the Knight called from far behind him. “I can Sense some of your fellow Padawans nearby! Keep an eye out for them!”

“Yes Sir!” Vajra could not stop to take stock, as he had the undivided attention of the entire horde. Even so, he tried his best. His Senses weren’t the keenest yet, but he could tell the scattered groups of Younglings in a sea of Flesh Raiders. The closest was around a hundred meters to his left. He turned without warning, and the Raiders in his way tripped in their shock at the sudden change.

It took him about a minute to cut his way to the first group of seven Padawans. He was relieved to see them alive, though they were battered and bruised. Their clothes were torn and caked with blood, and several looked dazed and glassy-eyed.

“Up!” he cried when he’d slain the last guard. “Get up! You need to move, now!”

But of course, they were too injured to move quickly. Two of them had broken legs, and another looked like they would never move again. Vajra cursed. He should have expected this this. He had rather naively imagined he would just be able to leave them once they were freed; that they could find their own way back to safety. Leaving their own immobility aside, he was way ahead of the frontline. And for now, he was stuck like they were. He took up a protective stance in front of the trainees and began deflecting blaster bolts, forcing himself to his limits to keep a single shot from making it past him. Occasionally he was able to hit a Flesh Raider with a redirected bolt, but most were far enough away that they could avoid the ricochets. Even so, he felt some pride; he kept his fellow students safe for almost two minutes!

He tensed as the first Flesh Raiders with melee weapons reached the group. At least the blaster fire stopped when they reached him. They were breathing hard from the run, but their downward strokes were strong. He pivoted inside the first one’s strike and leapt up, taking his head off with a rising strike. Or was it ‘her’ head? He couldn’t tell.

The second and third hesitated, letting him dispatch them easily. The fourth roared a challenge and attempted to rush him, but Vajra sidestepped and cut the leg out from under them before ending their life as well. With their comrades dead, the others opened firing again.

Vajra was losing confidence in his ability to protect the trainees when one of the dropships from before landed in front of him. Troopers opened fire from inside, keeping the Raiders at bay while their comrades piled out from the other end and gathered up the freed prisoners.

One of the students started crying as she was carried to safety.

“Here, take this,” a soldier gave him a signaler. “Find and free prisoners and get them to clearings. Use this to mark them for evacuation. We’ll try to keep you better covered from the air.” He grabbed Vajra’s shoulder for a moment. “You’re doing well,” he said kindly. “You’ve saved a few more lives. Keep this up, and you don’t have to buy a drink for the rest of your life, eh?”

“Saving lives—?” he asked.

“That’s right, Son. These children would be dead if not for you.”

“Is everyone alright?” The old Knight finally reached him. “You are better than I thought, my Child. But you best not get too far ahead of us this time. You’ll be better able to defend those you free if you have allies with you.”

“Yes Master!”

“Here, take a sip of this,” the Knight gave him his water bottle. “Things like dehydration creep up on you on the battlefield. Remember to stop to regather yourself every now and then. If you want to protect others, you first need to look after yourself.”

Vajra obeyed, as he always did. When a superior told you something, you obeyed without question. Right?

They spent the next forty minutes seeking out and freeing more prisoners. The fifth group of Students were in the worst shape; every one of them required evacuation on stretchers. The Knight alongside Vajra gritted his teeth. “These children will never walk again,” he said sadly. “For pity’s sake, they might never sleep again.” He was so caught up in his grief that he was almost hit by a charging Raider. Vajra stabbed it in the heart, but its momentum caused it to hit the Knight nonetheless. There was a sick crunch, and he cried out in pain.

“DAMMIT! FRICK!”

“Hold on, trooper! His leg is broken!” Vajra called to the last trooper who was just about to board the dropship, and he returned to help the Jedi.

“What a stupid mistake that was!” the Jedi lamented through gritted teeth. “This is what I get for… Vajra!” He grabbed Vajra’s shoulder. “Forget about the rest of the students, do you hear me? Make a beeline for the cave. You can’t miss it, just keep following the stream of Flesh Raiders. Stop any further reinforcements at the source, you got me?”

“Yes Sir,” Vajra said. It was all he could say. He remembered suddenly that he was on a clock. His Lightsaber would only last fifteen or twenty more minutes; already he could feel some heat escape the containment field. The Knight’s words echoed in his head. Forget about the rest of the students. Make a beeline for the cave.

Obey your elders. They are wise and experienced. They always know what’s the best course of action!

But he was alone on the ground now. As soon as the ship was airborne again, he found a hundred blasters firing in his direction. He dashed off at top speed again, using velocity to keep him safe from all that fire. His mind screamed each time he cut down a Raider, horrified at yet another life taken. After all this fighting, he thought he could see the sentience in these ‘primitives’. They cried for each other sometimes; they feared pain and loss, just like he did.

They coordinated their attacks too and displayed a good head for tactics. He ran into several bands where one, a clear leader, directed the others in their attack. Vajra never once felt like he was attacking one of the wild beasts that sometimes attacked settlements back on the Uphrades.

Even so, he did his duty. He opened a path to the caves, leaving only death in his wake. But he could not get the damned count in his head to stop! Nine hundred and ninety-seven… eight… nine… one thousand! And it just went on!

Fire from above helped him sometimes, but the forest canopies and mountainous terrain mostly protected the Flesh Raiders. Eventually he reached the tunnel. It really was hard to miss as it was protected by a small cadre of Flesh Raiders. And in their midst were two who stood out; a human and a Bith. The Bith was cowering on the floor, clearly injured. As for the human, he looked about ready to kill the Bith. Furthermore, the Raiders seemed to obey him. That was enough for Vajra. He stepped into the cave to confront the guards.

Unaw Aharo clutched at his charred stump, gasping in pain. His hand lay in front of him, still clutching the hilt of his Lightsaber.

“How did you get so far, Padawan?” the human asked. “How did you evade my army, and make it all this way unnoticed?”

Unaw’s answer wasn’t coherent. “P-p-p-ple-please! Please don’t k-k-k-k-kill me!”

“I don’t even understand you,” the man grumbled. “Speak basic! I know you understand it, now I need you to speak it!”

Unaw whimpered. Of course, he could understand basic, but his extra vocal cords made it difficult to reproduce the sounds exactly. “W-w-w-why are you d-d-d-doing th-th-this? Aren’t you a J-J-J-Jedi?” He asked.

“He speaks basic!” the man crowed. “Yet I can barely understand you! Yes, I am a Jedi. Good observation. You must be some sort of genius!”

“P-p-p-p-please!”

“I asked you a question, false Jedi!”

“I-I-I-I don’t know! I just snuck p-p-p-past th-th-th-them! I’m good at sneaking!”

“I see. What a cowardly talent. It’s because of weaklings like you that the Sith just walked right into our Temple on Coruscant! There is no atonement for the sin of weakness. You must die!”

“Why?”

“Because the Order must evolve,” the man sneered. “And you are weak! Now at least meet your death like a man!”

“Step away from that Bith!” a voice rang out. A four-armed humanoid leapt into the fray, and with a series of crisp strikes, dropped all the guards between the cave entrance and Unaw.

“N-n-no! Run away, Apprentice! Th-th-this man leads the Flesh Raiders! He wants to destroy the Jedi!”

“Not destroy, cleanse!” the man declared. “And how did you get past my army, four-arms?”

The alien changed his stance. “I defeated them all.”

“Alone?!” the enemy’s face contorted. “Such an obvious lie! No one man can cut his way through five thousand Flesh Raiders on his own!”

“It was less than half that number,” Unaw’s savior replied. “Around one thousand seven hundred. I think the rest just ran.”

“You lie!” the human’s face turned purple, and spittle flew from his mouth.

“Lay down your weapons, and you won’t have to test your theory.”

“Kill him!” the deranged Jedi screeched at his guards. “All of you… KILL HIM!”

What unfolded next was pure art. Unaw’s savior stood firm as nine massive Flesh Raiders all bull rushed him at once. The youth—who had to be Unaw’s age, unless his species aged differently—simply slid between the strikes of his larger, more powerful opponents, twisting at mind-boggling angles to evade as many as possible with a single move. It was like he didn’t have the hindrance called ‘bones’. His Lightsaber sang when he got within striking range, cutting off two heads in one fluid strike.

Before the others could react, he slipped under another one’s guard and stabbed it in the heart. He pulled the blade out in an arc and slashed another across the chest. The fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth coordinated their attacks with gruff barks while the ninth held back in reserve.

“Look out!” Unaw cried as the one on the left feinted. When the trainee turned to face him, another one attacked instead, but his heavy axe only cut through air. The young Jedi had dodged the blow with his back turned and attacked the one who had feinted. The creature wasn’t completely caught off surprise but wasn’t fast enough. The boy became a blur, and his target fell screaming, with a gaping hole in its stomach. The boy jumped onto its head and finished it off with a downward thrust before using it as a springboard for his next attack. The Flesh Raider that had tried to attack him from behind was still carried forward by its own momentum. It roared in rage as it prepared to swing again, but it too fell dead. The other two closed in for a simultaneous sweep but fared little better than their comrades.

Unaw gasped when the boy nonchalantly hopped onto one of the axe-heads to evade the strikes. “Such elegance!” he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the pain in his arm. The boy flipped over the raider, his Saber cutting into its neck. It didn’t take the head off, but the blow was instant death.

The entire fight had taken less than a minute; the remaining Flesh Raiders seemed to lose their nerve at the speedy… slaughter, and bolted into the tunnel, the human screaming curses and abuse as he used the Force to Crush their windpipes. There was a sickening crunch, and gurgling noises as the dying Raiders gasped for air, and the boy attacked the human with an emphatic “Why did you do that?!”

“Soldiers who flee are worse than useless!” the human roared. His technique was good, but it was obvious who was the better swordsman. He brought down his blade on top of his smaller opponent, only to have it turned aside with contemptuous ease. The human tried an aggressive approach, but the alien threw him off balance with a splendid riposte. He attacked with the acrobatic strikes of Form IV, forcing the human back. Then he cut off his hands with a downward thrust. The human howled in pain and fell, much like Unaw himself had mere minutes ago. The alien jumped all of a sudden, staring at his Lightsaber. He cursed and hurled it at the human. Unaw was confused, but the blade exploded with the force of a frag grenade. The young Jedi’s reflexive Shield was somehow strong enough to protect both himself and Unaw from the little shrapnel that flew their way, but the human was ripped to shreds.

The boy just stood for a moment, then swayed and fell. Unaw heard the raw pain in his voice as he whispered. “He… he’s dead! I killed him! I killed him! Oh, stars, I killed so many of them!”

Jedi Master Orgus Din faced almost no opposition as he made for the cave Weller had pointed him towards.

I shoulda taken a speeder, he thought. Only reason he hadn’t was because he’d expected heavy fighting as he got closer to the cave. But all he saw were Flesh Raider corpses. Some had been shot from the skies of course, or from range. But the rest… someone had gone on a major rampage with a Lightsaber. Knight Relnex had mentioned a trainee when he was evacuated, one who seemed like a god on the battlefield.

If he can do all this, he’s no god. Carnage of this sort is the domain of demons. Orgus was worried that he would reach the end of his trail to find a psychopath, standing over a mountain of corpses with an ironic smile.

“What took you so long, Master?” he heard the trainee say with that imagined, twisted smile.

But the scene that he ran into was quite different. “What the—?” He entered the cave, and when his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw no triumphant young student. There, amidst the dead, two young trainees sat huddled together, a Bith and a blue-skinned alien who had to be Vajra. Had he been injured? He had fought an army by himself, so it wasn’t unreasonable to imagine—

“Master Orgus!” the Bith cried. He tried to stand, but he was too weak. His missing hand was obvious, but Orgus could not find any wounds on the other alien. But he was sobbing his eyes out, inconsolable. He trembled like a bantha calf before a krayt dragon. His eyes darted from one dark corner to another, unwilling to focus on Master Orgus’s snapping fingers.

“What happened here? Is your friend alright?”

“He… he’s in shock, Master!” the Bith cried. “He killed the Flesh Raiders, and the human who led them, but then—he just started shaking when the battle ended, started crying that he had killed so many! I don’t think he was ready for this!”

Orgus sighed sadly. “He should never have had to… what about you, Padawan?”

“I am fine, Master. This boy saved me. He was… he was…!”

“Like a god on the battlefield?” Master Orgus suggested.

“Exactly so, Master! He killed these poor creatures in less than a minute!”

“Thank the Force you’re both alright. I wish I’d gotten here sooner. We have failed you.” Orgus stood to look at the human. He was a mess. “And what happened to him?”

“This Padawan’s Lightsaber overheated, Master! He tossed it at the human on reflex, but then—”

Orgus sighed. “Who was he? Did he say anything?”

“Not his name, Master. But he said he was a Jedi. And that this was a cleansing. He called us weak and false. He mentioned the Sacking of Coruscant.” The Bith grimaced and Orgus felt guilty for grilling him right here.

“That’s enough, Son. We’ll talk later. But first, we need to seal off this cave.”

“But we don’t have explosives!” the Bith objected. “How do we… oh!”

Orgus Reached out with the Force, then brought the cave down, collapsing the entire tunnel.

“Not even any secondary collapses,” the Bith said, ear to the wall. “Such fine control!”

“Thank you. Experience is one of the few perks of growing old. Now, about this human…” Orgus walked upto the corpse and winced. “Ouch. That exploding Lightsaber was bad for his complexion.”

“I remember his face, Master Orgus!”

“We’ll need your memory, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Padawan. You should be allowed to rest after your ordeal, but we’ll need your testimony now rather than later.” He pocketed the Lightsaber, which he assumed was the rogue Jedi’s.

“It’s alright, Master Orgus. But I have been wounded—”

“I’ll escort you both back myself.” Once he called in a shuttle, he reached for the weeping trainee. “Here… let me take him.” He embraced the child, letting him cry into his shoulder. “There, there, young Jedi,” he said gently, stroking the boy’s hair. “You have done exceptionally well. Your heroism has saved many lives today.” But the boy was nonresponsive. He continued to sob until their pickup arrived.

Two days later

Vajra Devarath sat on his bed, energy returning as he noted the time. It was a comfortable bed in the medical wing, where he had been housed these past two days. He did not fully remember his time here. People came and went, and most asked him the same questions. Some brought him food and drink.

Some looked familiar and gave him words of profuse thanks or heartfelt encouragement. But there was one person—other than nurses—who had checked in as often as she could. And honestly, Vajra was looking forward to her next visit, which should be just about now—

“Hello, Vajra!” she burst in with all her usual energy. “Did you have your meal?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Jasme,” Vajra answered weakly. “Yes. Rootleaf stew.”

“Jah-zme,” she corrected his pronunciation. “Ugh, I hate rootleaf stew! Tastes like rancid pond scum!” She frowned slightly at his laugh. “That sounded forced.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be! Please, don’t be! Stars, it’s not your fault at all! You did the best you could out there. Everyone said so! No one can quite believe how many people you saved all on your own!”

This was why he liked her. From the start, she had stressed on those he had helped save rather than the lives he had taken to do so. And this helped his mental state.

She sat down on the chair closest to his bed with a loud ‘huff!’ There was an expression of grief on her face for a moment as she looked at his bed, contemplated the flowers in her hands; but she quickly banished it.

Vajra said nothing about it as she settled in, quite used to her setting her own pace by now. She was a pretty young girl, with prominent cheekbones and slanted features. She was probably sixteen or seventeen, and taller than him by more than a head. She loved dressing in white and orange robes.

“You never told me who you are,” Vajra spoke up when she put down the flowers she’d gotten him. “Are you a nurse in training?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, what’s this? Your interest in the outside world returns?”

“Just you. You’re interesting!”

Jasme chuckled. “Someone’s a smooth talker.”

Vajra blushed. “I’m serious,” he said. “Every time you come in, you seem to bring a piece of pure happiness with you. And you have the most interesting stories to share too!”

“That’s a relief,” Jasme’s smile widened. “I was half-afraid you found my frequent visits odious.”

“Er… ‘Odious’?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate them.”

“Well, I don’t find them… ‘odious’? Odious at all.”

She patted his head. “Thanks for that. So, what was it you asked? Who I am?” she twitched her small nose. “Well. What do you think? What have you noticed about me?”

Vajra thought about it for a minute. “I… I noticed you’re always carrying a book or two with you.”

“Correct. I love to read!”

“And you are always telling me stories too…”

Her eyes sparkled. “What kind of stories?”

“Well… stories about different people or events.”

“That’s right!” she cried happily. “Which tells you that…?”

“That… you like stories?” he guessed after another long pause. He gasped with sudden realization. “Oh! Is that what you do? A keeper of the lore?”

“Bingo!” she clapped. “That was rather well done! Yes. To be more precise, I’m training to join the archives.”

“So, you’re not a Jedi?”

“My connection to the Force is too weak,” she said regretfully. “And Master Zho had such high hopes for me, too!”

“You were scouted early?”

She nodded. “Very early. But please don’t ask more about it.”

The request tickled Vajra’s curiosity, but he nodded. “Well, I’m glad they’re letting you stay on as an archivist at least,” he said. “You still get to be part of the Order.”

“That I do!” she agreed wholeheartedly. “And yes, I’d probably request to be an archivist even if I had the strength of Grand Master Shan! Oh, some of the things I learn every day! I love, love, love this job!”

“I’m guessing visiting patients is part of the curriculum? I can’t figure out why I’m lucky enough that you hang out with me as often as you do.”

She gave him an apologetic look. “The answer is a little… banal.”

“Banal?”

She tossed her dark hair back and laughed. “It means ‘ordinary’!”

“Ah.”

“Anyway. I’m here because I find you interesting.”

“Me?” Vajra was surprised. “But I was… in shock the past few days!”

“But you’re a Raudra. A karking Raudra!” she stressed as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “I first read the term three years ago, in a report by Master Oteg. Do you remember him?”

Vajra frowned. “Vaguely,” he said hesitantly. “I think he was the other Jedi working with Master WenSuul… he spoke to the Council on Raudraksha…”

“That’s him,” Jasme nodded. “And he wrote about his brief meeting. His impressions. I was so fascinated! And every time we got more info, thanks to one Captain Ugo Tarsten, I would just eat it all up! There’s so much to your people, your customs and beliefs, that I love reading every scrap about them that I could get my hands on!”

Vajra laughed ruefully. “You probably know more about my people than I do then,” he admitted. “I left when I was five. Fairy tales from my mothers and sisters is all I remember.”

“That can be easily remedied,” Jasme said earnestly. “You can read up in the archives. You ever used a Jedi archive? Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to use them when you have a few hours.”

“I’d like that!” Vajra smiled. “Maybe I can join you as an archivist!”

She laughed sadly. “Somehow, I don’t think that will be your path. Everyone out there is talking about you, you know. About how good you are.”

Vajra felt his chest deflate. “Oh.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad!” Jasme said bracingly. “You can still be a part-time archivist! And maybe I can continue hanging out with you when you’re out there again! I can introduce you to all my friends, including some of the people you saved! You’ll be the most popular student in school in no time!”

“Are they fun?” he asked.

“Only as fun as you are,” she said cryptically. “I find that most people who go around asking if other people are fun are the ones who poop in parties.”

“I’m not that bad,” he protested. “I have friends back on Uphrades!”

“I was just teasing you. Yes, they’re fun. But sometimes people happen to rub others the wrong way. Show off the wrong attitude. Stifle the room in a cloud of oppression. You don’t seem like that kind of boy. Don’t ever become that.”

“I won’t,” he promised. She was right, he thought. She was definitely right.

There was another knock at the door. “Come in,” Vajra said, expecting another doctor. Instead, in walked a Jedi. A truly beautiful Jedi with a presence so powerfully serene, he felt his eyes widen, and his breath leave his chest. Jasme nudged him and he reclaimed his composure.

"Pardon the intrusion. You are Vajra Devarath, are you not?” Her voice was strong and clear. It made him think of a cool stream back home.

“Yes, I am, Master.”

“I am Satele Shan,” she said simply. His jaw almost dropped again. Master Satele Shan? The Grand Master of the Jedi Order? She was so young! And looked so approachable! “I wanted to meet you sooner, but I’ve been dealing with the aftermath of that attack. But I see Jasme has been keeping you company.”

“She’s really nice to be around,” Vajra said nervously.

“She does have a way with people,” Master Satele smiled.

“I can leave if you want,” Jasme said hesitantly.

“Some privacy would be appreciated, Jasme. Thank you. But I’ll only be a few minutes, so you can wait outside. Would you please close the door behind you?”

Jasme complied, leaving an increasingly fidgety Vajra alone with Master Satele.

“I’ve heard all about your exploits,” Satele shook her head. “You bested an entire army almost on your own, and saved dozens of people, your fellow Students among them. And with just a training saber too. I am so sorry how you suffered for it.”

“I… it just hit me all of a sudden,” Vajra confessed. “I’d been killing so many… Flesh Raiders. I even killed that human!”

“I take it you don’t like the name ‘Flesh Raiders’?”

Oh, she was sharp. “I do not,” he said softly. “It feels a little…”

“Lazy?” Master Satele suggested. “Judgmental?”

“I was from a ‘primitive’ culture too,” Vajra said softly. “Were we treated better because we were prettier?”

“No. It was because your people are peaceful and reasonable. Cooperative. These people, the Khrayii as they call themselves, are anything but. Even before their brutal attack earlier this week, they were hostile. But we left them alone until they found blasters. Now, they’re a problem for everyone on Tython. A big one.”

“I see.” The ‘Cry’…? He made a mental note to ask Jasme later.

“Sadly, that means you will face them again soon. I am sorry.”

“Oh…” Vajra felt his heart sink.

“It is a sad reality of the times we live in,” Master Satele said sadly. “These days of war. The hostilities may be over for now, but we are still at war with the Sith. Every Jedi who can serve, will have to serve. I wish I could have kept you and others away until you were of age, but I do not have that luxury. In the coming days, you will be asked to step up more often. When you are well and ready, you will be sent to the front lines. In fact, I think you will live on the front lines. I am deeply sorry.”

“It… it was what I was called for,” Vajra said, trying his hardest to stop the shivering. He heard the cries, smelled the blood. He did not want this! He wanted to turn away and run!

Master Shan knelt down and placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s alright, Vajra. Breathe, just like your Master taught you. Always remember that you are no death-dealer. You fight to serve life. To protect those who can’t protect themselves. Young though you are, you are a protector. Like me, like Master Orgus. Like thousands of soldiers and Jedi all across the galaxy. Keep that knowledge close to your heart; let it shield your heart from doubts. Many of us have felt what you have, once. The only way to come to terms is to truly accept its necessity.”

“Yes Master.”

Master Satele chuckled. “It sounds impossible, doesn’t it?”

“It… it does. I can still hear them screaming. I can still hear their heads drop after I cut them off…”

“Taking a life affects the Living Force… and the one who must do the killing. That’s why the Jedi enter battle calmly. But beware emotions like fear or hatred. Even of yourself. They lead to the Dark Side.”

Vajra shivered as a half-buried memory came to his mind. A cruel human with a laughing face, killing his Clan with Force and Lightsabers. It had been just a memory for many years, but today… today he felt the same chill he had on that day. The cruel Darth flickered, and his face seemed to turn into Vajra’s.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I’ve already killed… I’ve already killed… one thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two.”

Master Satele looked at him sharply. “You kept count?”

“… yes.”

She scrutinized his face, placed two of her fingers on his forehead. “I… I can feel your guilt eating away it you!” she said, her voice laced with concern. “Don’t worry. We have tapped some of the best Counsellors in Republic Space. I’ll ask Neha Row to see to you personally. She’s a good friend of mine, helped me in my own times of crisis.”

“Your own times?” Vajra whispered.

“Yes. Believe it or not, I once faced the same turmoil you did. Later in life, but it was the same. Neha was the one who helped me regain my centre.”

Vajra stared at her kind features for a second. And he saw beyond them, to the Cracks hidden underneath. “I can believe it,” he said.

“Why, thank you!” Master Satele smiled. “Most people just see ‘Grand Master’, and don’t allow themselves to believe that I am just as mortal as everyone else.”

“But can I become like you someday?” Vajra deeply feared the answer.

“Of course, you can. Perhaps even better.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” he admitted.

“You think you’re doing a disservice by moving on, don’t you?” Master Satele said quietly. Even though it was phrased as a question, it sounded like a statement of fact. “You think that by remembering their final moments, the number of Khrayii you killed, by holding yourself responsible for their death; you think you’re being a good person, aren’t you? I agree that it makes you good when you value all life. But I say again; remember that you did not kill all those natives for fun. You did it to protect others, others who they threatened without cause. They killed many children. They crippled others for life. Worse would have happened had you not intervened. Reasons matter.”

“Yes, Master,” he choked.

“And take this,” she said, leaving a small parcel on his bedside table. “Teachings and philosophy are well and good, but good backup is better in battle.”

Vajra picked up the parcel. It was a neatly wrapped box, which he carefully unwrapped to reveal four Lightsabers. He held one in his trembling fingers, pleased to find that it fit his hands perfectly. And it had an elongated hilt too, meaning he could hold it with all four hands if he chose to. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered. “But I think I’ll stick to one. One is all I need.”

“As you wish. But keep the others anyway, I insist. For now, at least. And as lovely as these are, I expect you to return these someday, when you are ready to build your own Lightsaber.”

“Yes Master.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you safe, young Padawan. Please get well soon.” She gave him a serene smile and left. He heard her exchange a few words with Jasme in the hallway on her way out.

The girl entered a minute later, a look of worry on her face. She banished it as she entered, and her usual wide smile returned to her face. “Now that she’s out of the way, let’s pick up from where we left off!”

“Jasme… sometimes, you get this really troubled look every time you think no one is looking. Are you alright? After everything you’ve done for me these past few days, I want to be there for you as well.”

Her eyes softened. “That’s really sweet of you, Vajra. And yes. There is something that troubles me. Are you really okay being my shoulder to lean on?”

Vajra hesitated. “Does that mean, ‘do I want to help you?’ Yes, yes, I really do.”

She chuckled sadly. “My boyfriend Tomas Vance was on the training grounds. He was one of the older Padawans you rescued. But he was tortured during his brief captivity. He had fourteen broken bones in his legs alone. In addition, his back was broken. He will never move his body again.”

“Oh no…” Vajra felt a deep remorse. “If only I’d been faster…”

“No. You did the best you could. Better than full-grown Knights. It is the Flesh Raiders who take all the blame for what he and the others suffered. So many of them were tortured!”

“How is he?”

“Not good. Like I said, he’s paralyzed. And that has broken him. He had dreams of being a great Knight, but now he’s condemned to a life in bed. Or as a cyborg. Last we met, he demanded we break up. Told me to leave the room, and never try to find him again. He’s… ashamed. Ashamed!” The memories were too much for her, and she started to cry. Vajra gently embraced her, as she had him during his own worst days.

“I’m so sorry, Jasme,” he said, as he brushed her hair. “He deserved better. And so do you.”

She took one of his hands in hers and held on for dear life, sobs intensifying. He held her for as long as she needed it, until her pain subsided. She straightened up a moment later, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped her tear-soaked face in her handkerchief and sniffed. “I’m sorry, Vajra. I came here trying to help you.”

“Which means it’s only fair if I help you too. You’re my friend now. Right?”

She laughed weakly. “I am, Vajra. I am. And I think I’ll need more help over the coming weeks.”

“I’ll try my best to help you.”

She smiled happily and kissed his cheek. He blushed furiously, making her chuckle. “Sorry, I should have asked first. I’m a very affectionate person. Need to give my closest friends and loved ones a lot of hugs and kisses. If that makes you uncomfortable…”

“No, it’s okay!”

“Thank you. Now…” she said in a more business-like tone. “Is there a story you’d like me to read you?”

He smiled back at her. “Something nice and childish, please. Something with a happy ending.”

“Coming right up!” She squeezed his arm. “You’ll be just fine, Vajra. Be more kind to yourself. See yourself as I do. As your rescuees do.”

#star wars #swtor #swtor fanfic #swtor fanfiction #Jedi Knight #Hero of Tython

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