#today I offer you another strange goat

[canisalbus]

✦ Piroska ✦

[humanpurposes]

From Eden

Chapter 1: Little Novice

Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Osferth x Original Female Character

Warnings: bit of violence and death, suggestive themes if you squint, there will eventually be smut

Words: 4000

A/n: not me starting another series oops but i can't resist the baby monk

Today saw the first snowfall of the year. A few flakes landed on Bridget’s sleeves as she sauntered past the hard and frosted soil of the vegetable garden, past the pigsty and towards the stream that circled Wincombe Abbey. She swung an empty pitcher back and forth as she hummed the least melancholy hymn she could think of.

They had guests currently. Lady Aethelflaed of Mercia had arrived two days ago, bringing with her a group of guards who were camping at outside the Abbey. Bridget had been tempted to walk past the men on her errand, but the Abbess was already in a foul mood and she didn’t fancy testing her temper. Not unless it was for something interesting.

She had spent her morning as she always did. Prayers first. Her knees were never not bruised by the flagstone floor of the chapel, but with winter settling in they were numb too. Then she saw to the goats and the pigs. Then she helped in the kitchen. Finally, she got to eat in the hall with her Sisters. Bread with some winter preserves and slices of cured ham.

When she got to the stream, she placed the pitcher by her feet. With a final glance over her shoulder to the solitary stone building of the Abbey, she hopped across the water on a sparse path of rocks and made for the line of trees ahead of her.

The woods were the only place she felt like a living person and not simply a novice in a habit.

Bridget couldn’t stand how quiet life the Abbey could be. The Abbess, a stern but fair woman, told her it was because she was restless and unappreciative, but perhaps she was simply not well suited to mindfulness and prayer. Sometimes she could find things to laugh about with the younger girls, but then the Abbess would scold her for her “impiety”.

Once she was amongst the trees she tugged at her habit. In the summer she might take it off, but it offered some extra warmth in the colder months.

Her preferred weapon was where she left it, leaning against the trunk of a young oak tree. A broken bit of a branch, small enough for her to wield and heavy enough to hit against the trees.

She twirled it through her hands, just as her brother used to show her. From the few memories she had, she remembered he could do all sorts of impressive tricks with his sword. He could spin it and slice it through the air in controlled and precise movements.

It had been a decade since she had seen her brother, but she tried to keep his teachings with her, swinging branches at tree trunks, imagining she was a great warrior, like David slaying Goliath. Technically David had slayed Goliath with a rock and a sling, a detail the Abbess insisted was important. Bridget could invent a thousand reasons why, but she didn’t care to.

Especially when she was younger, she liked to imagine herself as a warrior when she was tasked with cutting wood or slaughtering and butchering the pigs. They were both hard work, but she was always willing to do it, if only to have an excuse to be destructive for once. She found it could be quite cathartic.

After a particularly harsh blow against a tree that cracked the branch almost in two, she froze. She heard horses. She hoped they would move on, but she made out a few figures in the distance, figures who appeared to have spotted her and were moving closer.

She dropped the branch and fixed her habit, to find a lock of her hair hovering over her forehead. She tucked it back in as the faces of the riders came into view.

There were five who rode at the front, four men and a woman with pale, blonde hair and strange markings on her face. A larger group, no more than twenty, hung back a little.

“A nun,” one of the men called. He rode in front of the group, their leader, she supposed.

“There we are then, you’ll feel right at home, Baby Monk,” another said. He had a gruff voice and an Irish accent. One of the other men laughed. The woman didn’t react at all.

“Is the Abbey nearby?” The leader asked.

Bridget frowned. He had an accent she could not place. “You are Danish?” She looked amongst the rest of their group, and they each seemed to find her accusation amusing.

“What is my religion to you, girl?”

“I would like to know if you would seek to do us harm.”

He raised a brow. “And you believe the best measure of a man to be the gods he follows?”

“I believe the best measure of a man is his intentions,” she said, meeting his eye and determined to keep her expression stoic.

But apparently he was pleased with her response. “You and I are similar in this respect,” he said, loosening the grip of his reins. “We seek the Lady Aethelflaed.”

“Would you seek to do her harm?”

“Only the good kind,” the Irishman mumbled with a smirk.

The leader rolled his eyes. “She and I are friends. I have come to offer her my protection.”

Bridget looked into the eyes of each of their group, the leader, the Irishman, the one who from his hair also looked to be a Dane, and the younger man riding at the back of the group. The woman had an unsettling gaze, she was the only one Bridget felt she felt compelled to look away from. The Abbess would call the markings on her face the markings of a heathen.

“There is a bridge over the stream,” she said, pointing through the trees. “Cross there. There will be room for your horses in the stables.”

She watched the men move away, each of them offering thankful smiles. She concealed her own, and headed back the way she came, across the stream and to the abbey with the empty pitcher.

Lady Aethelflaed welcomed them warmly and named their leader as Lord Uhtred. After it was agreed that they were decidedly not Danes (not the kind who would attack an Abbey anyhow), they settled in the hall, where Bridget and the nuns brought them bowls of stew and bread.

She expected them to eat like the Mercian guards, wolfing down bread and stew like they hadn’t seen food in days, but Lord Uhtred and his men thanked her graciously as she placed bowls on the table and went round to ladle out more stew for them.

Until she came to the man sitting at the end of the table, beside Lady Aethelflaed. He was the youngest of the group, with wide blue eyes and a sharp jaw. He kept to himself, slightly hunched over his stew.

She was rather fascinated by his robes and the small silver cross around his neck. If he had a slightly worse haircut he would look like a monk. But that was ridiculous, why would a monk be travelling with a group of mercenaries?

She approached him and waited for him to notice her. He looked up at her a smiled vaguely.

She indicated to the pot she was carrying.

“Please,” he muttered, holding out his bowl.

She dished a few spoonfuls for him and he smiled again, a little wider this time. She smiled back.

She wondered where he might be from, why he served a Dane if he wore a cross, how far their group had travelled and how many tales they might have.

“May I ask your name?” He asked.

She had been so distracted trying to think of something to say that his question took her by surprise.

“Oh… Bridget,” she said. “And you?”

“I am Osferth,” he said. He was very softly spoken, she thought. There was something so gentle and subdued about him.

“Are you a monk, Osferth?” She asked.

He glanced down at the cross hanging from his neck. “I was, I left my order to serve Lord Uhtred.”

“And now you are, what, a mercenary?”

Osferth chuckled to himself and shook his head lightly. “I am not much of a fighter just yet.”

“But you have a sword, and your friends are warriors.”

“I am still learning. In the meantime I can only practice and pray to God for courage and strength.”

She felt a light feeling in her chest she was sure she hadn’t felt in years. That’s what she prayed for too, even when the nuns told her she should be praying for patience and forgiveness.

“How did you—”

“Bridget.” The Abbess called, glaring at her from across the table.

Bridget nodded her head to Osferth, a farewell, she supposed, and headed back to the kitchen. One of the girls followed behind her, with a now empty pitcher of ale.

“The Irishman is handsome,” Bridget whispered into her ear once they were through the doors.

The other girl’s mouth fell open.

“What? Surely it is not a sin to look?”

The next morning, the Abbess ensured Bridget stayed in the kitchen. “So you might not be so easily distracted,” she warned, leaving her to peel and slice an endless amount of vegetables.

The Abbess seemed rather distressed at hosting Lord Uhtred and his men. “Ravenous permanently,” she grumbled, marching in through the kitchen with the remains of their breakfast. “They are eating into our winter stores.”

“So why let them stay?” Bridget muttered, dragging the edge of her knife over the skin of a few carrots.

“Because it is our place to show kindness,” the Abbess insisted through her teeth. She emptied the plate into a bucket by Bridget’s feet. “Take that out to the pigs.”

Bridget made no verbal protest. She placed the knife down and left through a small door that led out to the side of the Abbey, just as she had done the previous day. The skin of her cheeks stung when it met the icy morning air. The snow was heavier today. She blinked a few flakes out of her eyes and marched quickly towards the pigsty.

She made sure to scratch them behind the ears, poor things, left out in the cold.

She made her way around the building, to the front doors of the Abbey, and blinked.

And blinked again.

No, there was defineately an army of Danes lined up on the other side of the bridge.

“Good morning, nun!” One cried from atop a grey horse.

“Who are you?” Bridget demanded, but her voice came out a little more broken than intended.

The man chuckled and nodded to the bridge.

They had three hostages, each with a knife being held to their throats.

But with the order from their leader, the first hostage’s throat was sliced open, his body carelessly left to fall to the floor.

Bridget couldn’t bring herself to scream and choked out a broken sort of gasp.

They made no demands, made no moves towards her, and there was no indication they intended to kill the other two hostages. Not yet.

She slowly stalked towards the doors, unable to keep her eyes away from the danger.

“We will wait!” The man on the horse called, “for Aethelflaed!”

She ran to the kitchen first.

“To the hall!” She cried, moving to shut the windows.

The others all stared at her for a moment.

“Now!”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Abbess asked, bolting the door to the gardens as the others fled the kitchen.

“Danes,” Bridget breathed. She hadn’t realised her lack of breath or the restless feeling creeping under her skin.

The Abbess’s skin turned pale. She placed her hand on Bridget’s shoulder and ushered her towards the hall.

The nuns and novices had raised alarm amongst the men. Half of them were already reaching for their weapons.

Bridget and the Abbess slammed the doors of the hall with an ominous thud.

“What is it?” Lord Uhtred demanded.

“Danes. Outside.”

Every man was on his feet in an instant, and the sound of unsheathed swords rang through the hall.

“How many Danes?” The Irishman asked.

Bridget faltered. She hadn’t thought to count them. “More than twenty. Less than fifty.”

A few men moved towards the doors and the windows, but Lord Uhtred ordered them to hold for the time being.

He turned to Bridget. “Do you know what they want?”

“He asked for Lady Aethelflaed.”

“But they may not know we are here,” he said to his men.

“They know someone is here,” Osferth’s voice came. He was still sat at the table and had not drawn his sword.

“But they have hostages,” Bridget said. “They killed one man and they have two more.”

“We remain inside, and we remain silent,” Uhtred ordered, coming towards Bridget and the Abbess. “They must believe you are unprotected,” he said.

He looked between them for a moment, and turned back to Bridget. “Would you speak with them?”

Her heart must have stopped for a moment. “What?”

“We cannot save the hostages, but you can save the lives of the men and women here.”

“And Aethelflaed,” Osferth added.

“You must deny she is here; convince them you have nothing to offer.”

Her restlessness was starting to feel like fear, but she understood Lord Uhtred’s plan, and she could not say why, but she was inclined to trust him.

Until the Abbess interjected. “No!”

Bridget’s heart sank a little. “Abbess, I can do it—”

“No, child, this is my house. This will be my responsibility.” She turned to Lord Uhtred. “I will do it.”

Bridget followed Uhtred and some of the other men into the entrance hall. She stood by one of the windows, out of sight of the Danes, occasionally stealing glances of the Abbess as she stepped out to attempt a negotiation.

“We know him,” a voice muttered beside her. She looked up to see Osferth’s jaw hovering over her. “His name is Haesten.”

The Abbess made her plea for mercy.

In turn, a second man had his throat slit.

“Deny her presence again and a third man dies. And I will burn down your nunnery, and everyone in it.”

Bridget placed her hand on her throat. She could feel her heart pulsing.

A hand gently came onto her shoulder, but Osferth said nothing. His hands were larger than she realised. It wasn’t exactly calming, but she liked it.

True to the words of the Dane, the third man was slain, and when the Abbess reached for an axe she was met with a spear to her chest.

Bridget flinched into Osferth’s chest, keeping her hands over her eyes.

“Aethelflaed!” Haesten cried. “How many more men and women must die to save your bony arse?”

“To the hall,” Osferth said, taking one of her hands in his.

When she glanced once more out the window, Haesten and his men were moving past the bodies of the hostages and the Abbess, towards the doors.

Bridget, Osferth and Aethelflaed gathered the nuns and novices to the back of the hall, while Uhtred and his men lined up behind the doors with shields, spears and swords.

“Will you not fight?” Bridget asked Osferth.

“I told you, I am not much of a warrior,” he said solemnly, as he and Lady Aethelflaed positioned themselves before the others.

Bridget frowned, but tried to distract herself by whispering assurances to some of the younger girls.

When the doors finally burst open she felt utterly helpless. The fighting was kept by the doors and the entrance hall, while Osferth and Lady Aethelflaed watched with their swords drawn.

And when two of the Danes broke through the line protecting the door, they moved together. Lady Aethelflaed fought better than the monk, she thought.

She watched as a third man fought through, overwhelming Osferth while Aethelflaed was still preoccupied.

Bridget couldn’t stop herself. She darted towards the table and grabbed a knife. She supposed the man could have easily turned to her and lodged his axe in her chest, but he didn’t get a chance to even look at her before she rammed the knife into his neck, sending a spray of blood through the air.

The rest of the room was a haze. Something warm and wet landed on and dripped down her cheek.

Suddenly she felt two hands against her shoulders. She blinked.

Osferth’s blue eyes were glaring at her. “That was foolish,” he said.

Three men lay dead on the floor. Swords continued to clash in the entrance hall but Haesten and his men were retreating.

Osferth and Aethelflaed moved out to join Uhtred, while some of the nuns came to wipe the blood from Bridget’s face.

She told them of the Danes and the Abbess’ death. Some of the girls cried, some prayed. She came to clutch her own cross around her neck. But her hands would not stop shaking and her heart would not rest.

She killed a man. Really, it hadn’t been much harder than slaughtering a pig, but at least it felt a little more justified.

If the Abbess were not dead, she would have screamed at her, told her she was ungodly, no better than a cold-blooded murderer, or any of the Danes who ravaged villages and stole from innocent Mercians.

They stayed huddled in the hall until dusk, when Lord Uhtred seemed to finally come to a resolution.

The woman with the markings on her face, Skade, was a seer, and Haesten agreed to take her in Aethelflaed’s place.

Bridget watched the exchange from the doors to the main hall, and a shiver slipped down her spine when Skade turned to Uhtred with a dark look in her eyes.

“You are cursed once more, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Bridget had hardly slept that night. She lay eyes closed, still in her robes and the white headscarf she wore under her habit, listening to the gentle snores of the girls in the beds around her and aware of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

The moment she heard the first whistle of birdsong at dawn, she was up. She pulled on a pair of boots and looked around her bed. But it occurred to her she owned nothing, save for her little silver cross.

She hurried through the abbey, past the open doors of the hall, now empty.

The men were outside, securing their saddles and mounting their horses.

She spotted Lord Uhtred as he was helping Lady Aethelflaed pack her own mount.

Osferth was by his horse, talking to the Irishman.

“Lord Uhtred!” Bridget called over the noise of the horses.

He turned to her with a small smile. “Fear not, we have not emptied your food stores—”

“I want to come with you,” she said.

She had the attention of the others now.

Uhtred chuckled to himself. “I already have a stray monk, I have no need for a little novice.”

Bridget’s skin still felt strange where it had been stained with blood. “I fought better than him.”

“Not a particularly high standard,” the Irishman joked. Osferth’s head sunk, but he was smirking too.

“So you killed one man and now you offer yourself as a warrior?” Uhtred asked.

Her breath caught in her throat as she finally realised the ridiculousness of her proposition. She could swing a branch, cut firewood and bury a knife into an unsuspecting man, but that would hardly help her in a true battle.

“With practice, perhaps?” She said, pressing her nails into her palm. “But I have some skills as a healer also. I’ve assisted the Abbess with all sorts of ailments, no doubt you encounter your fair share of injuries?”

“She’s got spirit, Uhtred, at least give her that,” Aethelflaed said.

“Please,” Bridget said, “give me the chance and I will prove myself to you.”

They each shared a few pointed glances.

“I admire your determination, but I cannot bring a girl onto the battlefield against armies of Danes. I cannot guarantee your protection and I cannot even offer you a horse.”

“Lord? She can ride with me,” Osferth said quietly. “With your permission of course. I can look out her.”

Uhtred raised his eyebrows. “Very well.”

Bridget felt herself smile, wide and showing off her top row of teeth. It felt uncomfortable but she didn’t try to stop herself.

The others were already starting to move off as she approached Osferth as he stroked the nose of his horse.

“Have you ridden before?” He asked.

“No.”

“You’ll sit behind me; I’ll help you up.”

Bridget nodded.

She watched as he placed his left foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over to the other side. “Easy,” he insisted, holding out his hand to her. “Don’t be afraid to use your strength.”

She followed his movements as best she could, but her skirt wouldn’t allow her to bring her leg to the other side of the saddle. She fell back onto her feet with a disgruntled huff.

“Other foot then, and slot both legs onto one side of the saddle.” He held out his hand again. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Bridget looked back to the space around her. The stream, the woods, the doors to the place that had never really felt like home. She reached for her headscarf and pulled it off her head, letting it fall to the ground. She didn’t suppose she would have any use for it now. Her hair fell down her back in a messy braid.

She looked back up at Osferth, between his hand, his eyes, and briefly to the curve of his upper lip. She held his hand tightly and hauled herself up onto the horse, her arms and legs trembling slightly at the effort.

Once the horse was settled Osferth gave it a gentle kick and they began to move. Bridget latched onto his shoulders as they began to sway with the movement.

“What if I fall off?” She asked, suddenly horrified at the prospect.

“You won’t fall off,” Osferth said, “use your thighs.”

“What?”

“Grip with your thighs,” he said.

She did so instinctively. Something about it felt… strange.

They cantered to catch up with the group and Bridget gripped Osferth’s shoulders a little tighter. Until he took one of her hands and placed it on his waist, so she wouldn’t impede on his arms. She muttered an apology and unsurely placed her other hand around him.

A few days ago she hadn’t so much as spoken to a man in years, except an incident where a nearby farmer had broken his leg, and even then she only wordlessly assisted the Abbess to bandage his limb.

Now she had her arms around a man’s torso, close enough to feel his warmth from under his winter cloak as her body rocked against his back.

“You’re frozen,” Osferth said, briefly brushing his thumb over her hand.

“It’s winter.”

“Did you not have anything warmer to wear?”

“We don’t attach ourselves to material items,” she said in a mockingly wistful voice.

He huffed a small laugh and pulled the horse to a stop before swinging his leg around the its head, landing on the ground in one smooth movement.

He undid the clasp on his cloak and held it up to her.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders, “but I don’t want you to get cold.”

He mounted again, a little awkwardly with Bridget already in the saddle. “Hold it around me. We can keep each other warm.”

She shuffled closer into him. Osferth brought one hand off the reins and pulled the corner of the cloak around his arm as Bridget settled against his back, resting her head at the base of his neck.

Thank God he couldn’t see her as her cheeks started to burn against the cold and the snow.

[withacapitalp]

Quiet

For the STWG Daily Prompt today! This one is a little roundabout, but I just wanted to write some of the boys being goofy little besties!!!

-----

“Class, this is Dustin Henderson. He just moved here all the way from Arizona, isn’t that interesting?” Mrs. Wren said, gently nudging the boy further to the front of the room and giving him a soft smile, “Dustin, why don’t you tell us about yourself a little?” 

Dustin looked like he would rather eat raw goat brains, and Mike couldn’t blame him. If Dustin was a kid who looked like Jimmy or Troy, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but Dustin was a chubby short kid with a shock of wild curly hair and two missing front teeth. His shirt was black with a picture of a microscope with the words ‘Enjoy the little things’ underneath it, and he was wearing a wide brim hat with Einstein's theory of relativity stamped on it. 

The new kid was a total nerd, and Mike’s heart went out to him. 

“I moved here from Flagstaff. Um that’s a city in Arizona-” Dustin started to mumble, his eyes firmly on his shoes. 

“Wow. We thought it was in Canada,” Troy interrupted with a mean little laugh. 

A twitter went around the class, which was completely stupid in Mike’s opinion. It wasn’t even a funny joke, just something mean to say, and it made Dustin cringed back like he had been physically hit, his shoulder curling inward as he reached up to tug at the brim of his cap. 

“Shut up, Troy,” Mike said without really thinking. He kind of wished he could take it back when Troy’s entire desk clump turned to him with murder in their eyes, but the tiny grateful look Dustin shot up at him made it worth it. Sort of. 

“Boys,” Mrs. Wren droned, calling them both out even though Mike hadn’t done anything but defend Dustin when she should have. She sighed and shook her head, turning back to their newest student, keeping him on the pyre when she could have just let him go free. 

“What was your favorite part of Flagstaff, Dustin?”

“I really liked going hiking with my dad,” Dustin answered, slightly perking up, “There’s this mountain called Humphrey’s Peak by us, it’s the biggest mountain in Arizona and it’s the start of the San Francisco peaks! There’s these lizards there called Gila Monsters, they’re the only venomous lizards in North America, and-” 

Mike was leaning forward, drawn in by curiosity about the strange creatures, but oddly enough Dustin cut himself off with a sudden jolt, going back to his curled up turtle position from before. Their teacher waited for a second more before sighing again and adjusting the papers on her desk. 

“Well, we don’t have much in the way of lizards here in Hawkins, but hopefully your classmates will help you to explore some of the local wildlife. We’re going to have some silent reading time now students, so take out your books. Dustin do you need me to help you pick one?” She asked, finally cutting him loose. 

“No I’m okay,” Dustin said as he scurried to his seat, immediately opening his backpack and digging in it, conveniently not looking up at any of the boys near him. He pulled out a huge book, burying his face in it effectively cutting off any attempt to catch his eye. 

Maybe he just needed another push. Mike was still pretty curious about those monsters. 

“I’m Mike,” He offered. 

“My name is Lucas,” Lucas added, catching what Mike was thinking immediately and following through like always. 

“I’m Will, it’s nice to meet you,” Will rounded off, holding out his hand for Dustin to shake. 

“Hi,” Dustin said shortly, still nestled tightly into his book. 

Mike’s brow furrowed, and he looked away from Dustin to his friends, seeing if they had a plan. Lucas shrugged, and Will turned his face down to where he was secretly doodling under the book their teacher had assigned him. They were both just giving in that easily, which was just not acceptable. 

Not when the prospect of information on a giant lizard was at their fingertips. 

“What are you reading?” Mike tried again, still not willing to admit defeat. 

“Oh this is Blackmoor. It’s a rule book,” Dustin explained, holding the book so they could see the front cover picture of a huge castle on a tall rock and a smaller picture of a wizard. Will was instantly intrigued by the wizard, leaning into Dustin’s space to point at the title above the castle. 

“What’s Dungeons and Dragons?”

It was like a switch flipped. Dustin’s eyes lit up and he put the book flat on the desk so they could see inside, giving them all an eager little grin as he scooted his chair closer to the desks. 

“It’s this super cool thing where you make up characters and adventures and use dice to decide what happens. My character is a bard who has a flute that can put people to sleep and this badass dagger!” Dustin exclaimed, pulling out a notebook so they could see a rudimentary drawing of a man holding a knife and a flute. Mike was sure Will could’ve done a much better version, but it was still pretty awesome. But Dustin wasn’t done, pulling out a tiny figurine and putting it in the middle of their desks. 

“The game has got all these monsters like a mimic that pretends to be a treasure chest and this one is called the demogorgon-”

And then it was just over. Dustin jolted back, snatching his hand back like it had been caught in a cookie jar and pulling his hat practically over his eyes.  

“I mean, it’s just a game,” Dustin murmured, playing with his fingers and tucking his chin to his chest. 

Damn! Again! Now Mike was getting pissed. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Mike asked, frustrated that twice he had missed out on something fun. 

“What?” Dustin replied, looking confused. 

“Start talking about something cool and then cut yourself off right in the middle,” Lucas explained, already aware of what was annoying Mike. That was why they were best friends- Lucas just always seemed to know what was bugging him, “It’s weird.” 

Weird was apparently the wrong word to use. All of the joy in the air instantly vanished, and Dustin’s shoulders were at his ears. Mike shot Lucas a tiny glare, the two of them having a silent argument as Dustin gathered up the courage to explain. 

“Oh, um…My dad told me that I should try to be quieter if I wanted to make friends,” Dustin whispered, his cheeks beet red as he stammered out the words, “He um- he said it’s uh rude, you know? To not to let other people talk once in a while?” 

Ouch. 

Mike’s chest instantly seized up, and he looked down at his own desk, his copy of Tuck Everlasting staring back up at him. A quick sneak peek up at Lucas and Will revealed that they were doing the same, Will’s lip caught firmly between his teeth and Lucas’s mouth in a thin straight line. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, but all three of them knew what it was like to be told to be quiet. They knew how hard it could be to have everything you love ridiculed or talked down to. Usually it was Troy or Jimmy or some of the other boys in their class doing it though, not their own parents.  

“Tell us about the demogorgon,” Mike declared, speaking for all three. Judging by the looks he was being given not only by Lucas and Will, but also by Dustin, he had said the exact right thing. 

[wil-is-done]

Treats

Summary: Apparently, the rat in the glass cage is not a treat left for him. It said so itself.

Word Count: 1.596

-

Before, a moment is only as dull as he defines it to be. Before, any attached strings are ephemeral, only as strong as the promise of his next treat. But now is not before. Now, the girl is here. And that girl made friends.

Suddenly, his world is hers. He has to come to her, at least once, as the sun awakens, to see her smile, hear her laugh, indulge her frivolities. Otherwise, he’d feel… bad. Blasted girl. Making him fond of her presence. A ploy to push him towards dependence, no doubt. Terrible enough on its own, but then she starts leaving.

The friends she made are to blame. Off she goes, to other places that emit the same allure as that small locked door in her living room. Where she visits most often, is a little hamlet making itself known as an epicentre of oddities, a few dozen miles from this triply filled house.

She’ll wave a goodbye to her parents, pat and scritch him until he purrs, then drag the boy by the scruff onto the bus, to drive off into the mist. Quite a path, here to there. Of course, the humans circumvent the distance by tinkering with steel and fire. A bit too much faff for his tastes, honestly. He doesn’t need all that once he’s learned, but he’s not surprised the humans never did.

Really, all they need to do is step behind the curtain. Once you’re backstage, moving from scene to scene is trivial. 

He’ll time his arrival to match hers, as always. As the girl drags her case behind her down the dirt path to this woodland shack, the first face she’ll see on the porch is his.

At this point, they do not express the same surprise as they did the first time.

“Hey, Wybes. Check out who beat us again.”

“Huh.” The boy pops into sight from behind her. “This whiskered mug can’t keep getting away with it.”

“Unanimous vote on that. So, how about it? Finally gonna fess up, or is today’s another hum drum droll of the silent treatment?”

Silly girl. A blink is all she gets. 

The boy cracks first. “Feel like I should be more curious about this, but I’m not.” 

“Now that there’s real suspect. That another one of your tricks, Cat?”

He yawns. Not even a treat to grease the lips. What does she expect?

“Sure as hell working, so I guess you win.” The girl shrugs easily, circling past into the shack. “C’mon, Wybes. Shadows aren’t gonna solve themselves.”

Lounging on the porch while they unpack feels right, for the moment. 

The friends she made are also present, either having just arrived or on the way. They pass him by without a glance. They see no reason to notice. Just a strange stray, beneath them. He makes certain of it.

This dark cloud does contain a silver lining. Of the coming rabble, he anticipates the twins the most, because with them, comes a valued companion. 

Here he comes now, wrenching free from the sweatered twin as she rushes past inside the shack, waddling much like his namesake.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, friend.”

Waddles sits and oinks. Efficiency with words. A trait sorely lacking in the human world.

He nods. “You look good too.”

Waddles stands again, huffing with a nod.

“A stroll sounds fitting.” He hops onto Waddles’ welcoming back and settles down into a comfortable circle. “Lead on, friend.” 

Waddles oinks, then sets off. 

The stroll offers no more than sights he’s seen many times before, yes, but as his experience with the girl can attest, the companionship from people he spends it with is what gives time value. Sometimes. 

Waddles, experienced with the arrangement, takes care to not jostle his perch as they draw a leisurely circle around the tactless Shack. The rear is not yet festooned by the girl and her posse of inquisitive youngsters, which clever Waddles is taking advantage of for a clean, neat roundabout. 

“Shoo! Shoo, ya stinky goat! Scram! Get out of here!” 

He cracks an eye open. A familiar goat bleats in fright, fleeing from the rotting benches scattered about the yard. Upon one bench, glinting in the summer sun, sits a glass cage. But unlike many, it houses a rodent inhabitant.

He purrs out of joy. One of the friends brought a treat for him. A lovely surprise.

“Mind if this stroll shifts into a picnic, friend?”

An affirmative oink. Waddles pivots, heading towards the cage. 

He completes the digress by hopping off Waddles onto the bench. “Now, how do I crack this egg?”

“Come on!” A morose voice whines from the cage. A voice that can only come from its sole occupant. “Why am I being left outside like this? Can’t catch a break, can I? First the goat, now this mangy thing…”

He blinks. Then leans back. “You talk.”

“Whoa! Uh, I-I-I can say the same to you!” The rat appears equally surprised, backing against the furthest corner of the cage.

He stalks down, circling the glass. “Rats that talk bring only trouble.” 

“Whoa, now. Down, kitty.” The rat scurries to the center, beady eyes never leaving him. “Before you get silly, I’ll have you know, Lili’s my owner. She gets real uppity when something of hers gets messed with.”

“Getting her a replacement wouldn’t be difficult. They generally lack an eye for detail.”

“D-Don’t even think about it! I can tell!” The rat’s desperation visibly grows. “I’ll… I’ll scream!”

“Which is faster, I wonder: your lungs or my fangs?” Appropriately, he makes a show of it, baring it for the world to see.

“That’s where you’re wrong, kitty. I don’t scream with sound.” Outrageously, the desperation flips completely into bluster. “I’m a psychic rat, see. Lili and I, we’re always connected. I can reach her all the time, instantly. I can tattle on you to her about all kinds of things. And you have all kinds of things you don’t want no one to tattle on, don’t you?” 

“Are you threatening me, rat?” He looms over the cage, claws unsheathed, paws pressing down on the glass.

“Better believe it.” The rat is suddenly bold enough to inch closer to the glass. “Kitty better back off, or someone might find out there’s more than meets the eye for the strange stray lurking about.”

Silence, thick like muck. Narrowed eyes clash together at the center. After an age, he pulls his paws away from the glass. 

“Seems we are at an impasse,” he says, then with quick cunning, he crouches down, ready to pounce. “That is, if you’re sure your mind really is that quick.”

The rat’s bluster falters. Nothing more than a bluff, is it? He takes the chance to rear back, legs shifting balance from one to the other, a spring growing taut and nearly ready to-

An oink cuts through the stand-off.

Heads turn towards the earnestly simplistic swine seated by the wayside.

Waddles oinks again.

He grits his teeth, but then sighs. “Fair point.” He drops his aggressive stance completely. “You get to live today, rat.”

The feeble-minded rat seems to struggle to comprehend the proceedings. “What was that?”

“A thought-out, robust, concise argument. The opposite of yours.” 

“The heck? That’s it?” 

“That’s all he needs.” 

“Huh.” The rat collapses onto the wood chip matting, all the bluster deflating. “Nice save, Waddles. I guess.” 

Silence settles again, but unlike before, this one’s as comfortable as sugar pudding sticking to his fur. The obvious thing to do now is to come full circle on the stroll, as the impromptu picnic fails to fruit. Except Waddles didn’t back him up. Waddles presents a very reasonable argument, sure, but it still prevented him from a fat, savory treat. He’d rather not spend time with Waddles again so eagerly. 

Hold. How long has the rat been staring his way?

“Um, so. I’m Harold. That’s Waddles, I know that.” The- Harold says. “What’s your name?”

Odd, certainly. But might as well. “I don’t do that,” he says.

“Don’t do… what? Names?” Harold leans up against the glass. “Well, gotta call you something. Unless you’re fine with getting called kitty all the time.”

His eye twitches. He sighs. “Coraline calls me Cat.” 

“You’re Coraline’s?” Harold chuckles heartily. “I feel like I’ve always known that, somehow. Makes sense now, why you hate me. Like owner, like pet.”

“I am no pet. She does not own me.” He straightens tall. He also concedes, “Though the girl has acutely infected me, true.”

“Pssh. Lili’s cuter.”

“Your freakish ears fail you.” He shoots a sidelong glance at Harold. “And no. She is not.”

“Oh. Oh, buddy. You do not want to start this.”

“There is nothing to start.” 

“You’re right. Nothing to start. Lili’s the cutest.” 

He shakes his head. “Whoever decided you rats get to talk deserves lashes across the back.” 

His ears perk. A cacophony approaches the Shack’s back door. A gaggle of youths will soon overwhelm the backyard. All of it noise he’d rather not contend with. 

He sneaks a glance at the rat. “You will be here as long as your Lili is, yes?” 

“Of course. I’m not gonna run away, ‘specially not in a place like this,” Harold says with a shudder.

“Excellent.” He stands up, and makes to leave. “This will continue, Harold. Farewell, for now.” 

He hops off the bench, heading somewhere where he can step off the stage. Simple Waddles trails after him. 

Now, he’s making friends. Like owner, like pet.

Damn that girl.

-

This fic was commissioned by @ajabahyena, who wanted to see the MK’s animal companions get into a bit of shenanigans, and a bit of argument about letting the MK think some of them can’t talk. Sorry about the massive delay. This ended up a lot trickier to write than I thought. I had to restart multiple times just to get to a version of this story that I’m happy with. I hope this is a version y’all are happy with too.

If any of y’all are interested in commissioning me, it’s still open! Details are on the pinned post.  

[casualtydept]

experiencing a particular sense of derangement today so how about an annotated walkthrough of my zeroskull playlist

there's a sort of progression to this that i intended to span their relationship as i portray it so keep that in mind. i hope you like 80s music.

this charming man - the smiths

this man said "it's gruesome, that someone so handsome should care"

my very first zeroskull fic has zero call him handsome and i shamelessly stole the idea from here. oh the romanticism of somehow finding yourself involved with an older english man who knows so much about these things...

2. unloveable - the smiths

i don't have much in my life, but take it - it's yours

sorry for all the morrissey it's not my fault he's also depressed and sexually complicated. i haven't written late 50s skull face in a while and this makes me miss him. oh you poor messed up thing.

3. love my way - the psychedelic furs

a kiss in not enough in love my way, it's a new road i follow where my mind goes

would you look at that another song about being gay. a comfy dreamy sort of feeling of falling for that older man that encourages him just to give in to all these terribly complicated feelings

4. later tonight - pet shop boys

and you wait 'til later, 'til later tonight 'cause tonight always comes

"the most gay song we've ever written" says neil tennant. i'll leave it at that

5. jack the ripper - morrissey

your face is as mean as your life has been crash into my arms, i want you you don't agree, but you don't refuse i know you

oh fuck he's back. anyway haha hope you enjoyed the sweet stuff here's one in which i compare zero to a serial killer. the "nobody knows me" lyric at the end fills my head with many thoughts. it's not zero if it isn't at least a little bit fucked up and morally questionable.

6. shake the disease - depeche mode

here is a plea from my heart to you nobody knows me as well as you do

hope you like this band as much as me or you'll be sick of them by the end of this. oh the desperation. ow oof the mortifying ordeal of being known.

7. in your room - depeche mode

i'm hanging on your words living on your breath feeling with your skin will i always be here?

be thankful i only quoted the chorus here. zero is a powerful man.

8. vampires - pet shop boys

say what you like i'll do what you want me to do you're a vampire, i'm a vampire too

the inherent romanticism of becoming strange and offputtingly wicked men who operate largely at night together

9. master and servant - depeche mode

domination's the name of the game in bed or in life, they're both just the same except in one you're fulfilled at the end of the day

i could have just quoted the whole song here. it's a lot like life!

10. stories of old - depeche mode

but we won't sacrifice anything at all to love

tfw you're totally in love but not enough to make you stop caring about controlling the global population/destroying the english language [delete as appropriate]

11. lovesong - the cure

whenever i'm alone with you you make me feel like i am whole again

i love pain and suffering.

12. love will tear us apart - joy division

love, love will tear us apart again

from the mgsv soundtrack itself. oh the misery.

13. wicked game - chris isaak

the world was on fire and no one could save me but you

[chanting] DIVORCE ERA DIVORCE ERA DIVORCE ERA. the bitterness... the longing.... the knowledge that the guy you essentially spent the last decade or more giving your life to is obsessed with some other guy and has ambitions that directly conflict with yours/make you want to murder him

14. diamonds and rust - joan baez

it's all come back too clearly yes, i loved you dearly and if you're offering me diamonds and rust i've already paid

[skull face voice] oh joan baez we're really in it now. music to drink heavily to after making a certain phone call, thumb running over the scratched metal of an authentic pin badge...

15. no children - the mountain goats

i am drowning there is no sign of land you are coming down with me hand in unlovable hand and i hope you die i hope we both die

oh you know i had to.

anyway hope you enjoyed this glimpse at what drives my insanity, i might do this for my (multiple) skull face playlists sometime but one is full of edgy bullshit + hungarian metalcore and half of my other one is just ennio morricone's dollars trilogy soundtracks lol.

[casetheacesblog]

Today we started off at Musashi University where we got to interact with Japanese university students. During our group time I asked one of the students for an omurice recommendation and after the university visit we went to get omurice at a Japanese-western restaurant. After we finished the tour of the university and our look at the goats some of us went to go thrifting. The thrift gods definitely blessed us and midway through we stopped at a brownie cafe to regroup before continuing our thrifting rampage. We then hustled to Family Mart to grab a quick bite before heading back out with some of the other students.

Academic Reflection

It was interesting to interact with Japanese university students and consider how the identity that I think of myself may differ from how the students might consider me. The Japanese students would categorize me likely foremost as American and regard me using all of stereotypes that they may have about Americans similarly to how I might base their identities on them being Japanese prior to me getting to know them. I was surprised to see how much I had in common with the students and one even used two of the same adjectives to describe themselves. This I feel relates to the video that we watched which conveyed that although we may identify into categories that seemingly have no relation there are many subjective and objective traits that we share or don’t share with other groups. I feel this is a good lesson to keep in mind when visiting another country and experience many cultural norms that may seem quite strange to one’s own. The lesson being that you are assigning an identity to certain people based on stereotypes about aspects of them which are quite arbitrary.

The campus itself was quite small and I was surprised to learn that many of the Japanese students that I spoke to had classes entirely in English. I would imagine that this is an efficient way to acquire a new language but would be quite strenuous. The courses offered I noticed were mostly social science based courses and there were very few STEM classes aside from the mentioned goat science class which I would imagine would be similar to an animal science class. The class sizes were also quite small which according to the professor is common for Japanese universities and this is a way that they differ from American universities.

[giorno-plays-piano]

I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️

Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!

Oh, my love, don't forsake me

Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.

Words: 1670.

___________________

You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.

It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.

"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."

"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."

You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.

"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"

She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?

"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."

Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.

Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.

“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”

However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?

Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?

“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.

“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”

“Courting me?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”

Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.

“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.

For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?

The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”

Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.

“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.

Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!

“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”

“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.

She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?

Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”

_____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess

[yandere-sins]

Can I see bondage and blood (4 and 6) for the bratty goat man that is Lucio. I just got into the arcana and I’m loosing my mind over this brat. I love it.

Hahahaha, welcome to the fandom! Thanks for requesting the goat man lol Enjoy ^^

Bondage - “Darling your such a tease. I’ll give you a taste of what it’s like playing with fire.” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

There were so many red flags when you received the invitation to the Palace. All these rumors about a sickness spreading through the streets of Vesuvia, yet, the count still requested the likes of you to attend to him and keep him company while people began drawing back and isolate. Sure, tending to anyone who demanded your service was your daily bread, but you’d rather stayed at your home as well.

But he was a paying customer and not a first-timer either. Also, as the count, he was paying very, very well. Once these ‘sickness’ wore down, it would be good money in your hand to have, especially if you wanted nothing more than to leave this place.

That wasn’t all, of course. Every visit you spend at his side was filled with lavish meals and grand festivities. You felt less than an escort and more than an actual member of the high society when you were with him. But all the presents and clothes he gave to you were starting to drown you in guilt and fear that one day, this was something to hold over your head if you weren’t careful.

So, why did you go back?

Biting your cheek, you wondered about your reasons as you put on yet another wonderful, soft and endearing garment that he had prepared for you. Lucio hadn’t even arrived yet, but you knew by his choices that he grew bolder every time. You had told him right at the start, from be very beginning, that you weren’t interested in more than staying by his side and looking nice. That other services weren’t your occupation, and even less were you interested in something personal.

Yet, your hands began to sweat nervously as Lucio got announced, servants rushing to open the door for him, and your bad feeling intensified.

“[Name]!” he called out joyfully, arms open wide to pull you into a hug, entering the room without even a moment of hesitation. Lucio wasn’t a typical noble. Everyone talked about him behind his back of how unfit he was in his position. To greet you first and so casually - in front of servants no less - kind of confirmed that. No one would tell him off, strangely enough, giving him the respect to do as he pleased. Perhaps that was the influence of his wife, but you weren’t unhappy that he wasn’t spitting in your face or belittling you like the others would once they were done with you.

“Count,” you greeted him briefly, bowing your head to him with a small smile you could muster. No second later, you were virtually overrun by him, finding yourself dipped down and in his arms in the blink of an eye. “Finally some good company,” he smirked, reaching for your hand to kiss it. Charm, he had, even if this was one of the few good points you could name about him.

It was a rather typical meeting, minus the grand balls he liked to throw for his ‘friends’. Just you too, a table between you that was smaller than the one he usually filled with food. The menu was just as delicious, even though you two had it in silence, Lucio never losing the smile on his face. He usually was much more talkative, so you let him talk, but today, even if you spoke up, he wouldn’t react with his great stories and even greater enthusiasm. Maybe, it was just a calm day for him. Maybe he was just exhausted.

The time couldn’t run out faster, your eyes occasionally flitting to the small clock on top of the fireplace. Yet, every time you’d be disappointed with how much time was still left. You had been served tea, the servants leaving you alone as soon as the biscuits were placed down on the coffee table in front of you. Only when the door fell into its lock did Lucio finally sigh deeply, as if he was bothered by a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“I thought about it,” he finally spoke up, his words more serious than you had heard from him ever. This voice, paired with his words, rose another flinch of nervosity in you, and you sipped at your cup filled with warmth to hide your anxiety. Lucio walked back over to you, sitting down next to you on the couch and taking an inelegant sip of his own cup. “I want you to stay here.”

Immediately, the tea you just drank left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue, and you backed away noticeable. “My Count, I told you in the very beginning I don’t stay the night--”

“No, no!” he quickly waved off, shaking his head before taking a deep breath and reaching for your hands. You wanted to pull away, but at the same time, you feared upsetting such an important figure in this society by behaving rudely. “I meant forever.”

“Forever...?” you muttered, feeling your expression crunch up in confusion. “My Lord, I don’t think that would be appropriated--”

You really couldn’t see yourself, an escort, stay by his side.

“Not yet, but...” his voice trailed off as you thought to see hints of red grace his cheeks. “I will make you Count Consort. I mean it! You’ll have all the rights that even the Countess has, and you’ll be allowed to stay here.”

His offer sounded sincere at least, his expression giving off the impression that - even if it was foolish - he meant it. It took you a lot of strength not to gasp in his face about what he said, the mere idea of you becoming such a high-ranking member of nobility scaring and appalling you. Maybe this was a dream coming true for many people, but not for you. Not for someone like you who wanted to leave this city for a new start, and especially the Count who was starting to do what you always feared he would: Monopolize you.

“I cannot,” you said firmly, feigning regret in your voice before pulling your hands from his. “Why?” he asked, inching closer, your legs touching while he kept snapping for your hands. “I... I just can’t.”

“That’s not a reason. You can. Just say yes and stay with me.”

Finally, he managed to get a hold of your wrists, squeezing them tightly in his fingers. The golden prothesis always had scared you a little when he touched you with it. It was cold, and not rarely he put on claws on top of his fingertips that seemed more than just dull accessories. You were glad it wasn’t the case this time, yet the sheer strength he managed to bring up with it was only made more painful by the metal.

“No!” you gasped, finally letting your feeling of fear and disgust showing on your face. It was in the gist of the moment, Lucio witnessing your rejection, that he loosened the strength on his grip so you could tear your arm away. You didn’t mean to cross his cheek with your palm. You really didn’t! But when you realized the slapping sound echoing through the room, it was already too late, and you had jumped up, staring at what you did in horror.

The next moment, you ran to the door, slamming into the wood as it wouldn’t budge when you wanted to open it.

You always believed that he was different, but perhaps, you should have heeded the warnings. He treated you nicely, but in the end, when the other escorts told you that he had little patience, yet mighty demands of his partners, you should have heeded their advice to not go agree again and again to visit him. They told you about what he took pleasure in; the colosseum, the wars, bloodshed, and people worshipping him. It should have been enough for you to not return. To see that he was no good man, even if he treated you right.

“Darling you’re such a tease,” you heard behind you, and no second passed that another body pressed up to you, locking you between the door and Lucio. “You want me to fight for you? Beg you? Run after you? If that’s what you want, sure, I don’t mind.”

Exasperated, you turned around, not wanting to leave your back so exposed to him, only to find yourself staring right at a golden key he held in front of you. Hesitant, you glanced at him, his eyes now clearly duller compared to before, where he looked at you as the object of his affection, but the smile playing on his lips was anything but sincere. The mismatch of expression scared you, but you quickly snatched the key from him, fiddling with the door a little until you heard the lock open. Pressed up so close to it, it was no surprise you lost your footing, tumbling to the ground as it finally gave away. In the hallway usually filled with hustling and bustling of servants and guards, dead silence and darkness were all that awaited you.

You faintly remembered the layout as you stumbled to your feet, giving a short glance over your shoulder as you saw Lucio step out of the room as well, his hand leisurely coming up to usher you forwards. “Run, my Beloved. It’s only fair if you have a chance to escape. You always told me how you wanted to escape your life, so here I thought we were under the same impression, but in the end, you’re going to hate me as well, don’t you?”

His words were so sad, yet, their meaning scarier than anything to you. You never realized... that he thought this way. That up till now, he had been looking out for you after all. “But it doesn’t matter if you hate me,” he added, shoulders slumping as he looked at you pitifully. “Everyone does, but that means they let me do what I want. And I want to be with you. Deep down, you know I can make your wish come true. Otherwise, why would you have always come back to me?”

Now, you weren’t waiting anymore. As quickly as you could, with the fabric of the garment rushing by you as you ran, you made your way to what you thought was the exit. There was something mad about the way he uttered these last sentences, and you didn’t want to find out. Not when you heard his steps follow after you.

“That’s a dead-end,” he called behind you as you dipped into a sidearm of the hallway. “Don’t make it easy for me to catch you, Sweetheart.”

But it was already too late; you had to move forward. You’d slip into a room there and jump out of the window if it turned out that there wasn’t any way left to go. But the further in you got, the fewer doors you saw until they only sparsely appeared around you. Every time you thought, “One more, the next I will enter and escape,” but then they stopped appearing completely, and you ran right into a portrait of your suitor at the end of the hallway.

“You went easy on me?” you heard behind you. “You’re such an adorable rabbit. You could have just told me that you wanted me to court you some more! But don’t you worry.”

Eventually, Lucio caught up to you while you pressed up to the wall in your back, eyeing for a chance to escape him. Until it was too late, his face so close to you, you felt his breath against your lips and a cold, uncomfortable grip around your chin. “Hate me all you want, but I finally realize this is what you want too. You got me really riled up now, [Name]. We can play all night long if you want.”

You wanted to say something, do something, slap him again! But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even move a finger, or take a breath, captivated by the glowing silver of his eyes, shining even in the dark. “I’ll give you a taste of what it’s like playing with fire,” he whispered before you felt his lips close in on yours.

“Because that’s what you did to me too and now it’s your turn to get burned.”

[nad-zeta]

Arthur - Drive from hell

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Arthur x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 1600

Warning: Learning to drive.... so yeah

Comments: Eeeeep, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TANIIIII! Hope you have the best day! //dances around ❤❤ ❤Sending ya alll the hugs and yummo birthday cake! 😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈 @nuttytani

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:

“You ready, duckling?” Arthur asked, full of beans, climbing from the driver’s seat and doing a light lil ol jogging around the car to open the passenger door for you.

Today was the day! You were now officially legal, and Arthur had taken it upon himself to teach you how to drive. To say you were nervous would be a gross understatement— you had barely, BARELY even passed your learners exam, and now here you were, about to be sat behind the wheel of arguably your greatest challenge yet, a 4x4 Hilux, a beast of a car in its own right.

You had already started regretting your life decisions when Arthur had to give you a hand up to get into the big beast of a car, never mind barely being tall enough to see over the steering wheel.

“Safety first, Luv,” he grinned from the passenger seat, reaching across you to help secure your seatbelt as you acclimated yourself to the change in position. How strange it was to be sitting on the other side, peddles below, massive wheel in front. And not to mention all the switches and buttons— so many little things that you had no idea what they were for or how they worked— and yet all so tempting to press and try out.

You looked over at Arthur, anxiety only growing as you had no idea where to even begin. “Alrighty, let’s get this show on the road,” he clapped his hands together, smiling broadly as he put on a pair of blue polka dot sunglasses.

Truly this man had far too much faith in you.

“Arthur, are you sure about this?” you asked one final time before placing your one foot on the clutch while the other pushed the brake—you know, just in case.

“Of course, what kind of rotten boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t even teach my lovely lady how to drive, now first things first, the safety checklist.”

He held up his gloved hand, counting off all the points to remember when driving, “Number one, make sure the car is in neutral before starting it. Number two, keep your foot on the clutch. Number three, turn the ignition all the way, and once you are ready to rumble, release the handbrake and slowly lift your foot from the clutch as you step on the gas. Got it?”

You nodded, half the instructions going completely over your head— you got this, you got this, you kept repeating to yourself like a mantra.

Your shaky hands reached for the keys, turning them until the car roared to life.

“I did it! I DID IT! Loook Arthur, look! I switched the car on!” you exclaimed, smiling brightly at Arthur, who clapped his hands together in praise.

Next, you slowly release the clutch forgetting all about the petrol and hand brake, causing the car to lurch forward and stall. You let go of a high pitched squeak, eyes going wide and knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel.

Clam as ever, Arthur patted you on the head, “Ah, it’s alright, Luv, see nothing to be afraid of; you simply forgot to step on the gas.”

It appeared as though Arthur had nerves of steel talking you through every instruction, patiently teaching you, and frankly, it wasn’t before long; you actually got the car moving. More than moving even, you were DRIVING!, no jerky movements, just girl vs the open road! Oh, the freedom and sense of independence were exhilarating, even at 20km per hour.

Meanwhile, Arthur was having a very different experience from the passenger seat.

Oh Lord Arthur was thankful he had taken you out to an abandoned field to learn how to drive, even more, grateful that you were driving an off-roader and not Vincent’s old fashioned bright yellow beetle, cause heaven knows death would be knocking otherwise.

Yes, despite his calm facade, he was desperately gripping the fear handle— an appropriate name, really, for what he felt in this moment was truly fear. “B-bird d-don’t you think you should slow down a little,” he stammered out; any chance of composure had been long gone as you drove at top speed (40km/h) across the planes of the field, launching the car into the air as you drove over yet another tiny hill.

“By Thunder, please, I beseech thee if there is a god I promise to live a wholesome life from this point onwards, please just spare meeee- ahhh,” he implored, sunglasses now halfway down his nose, revealing his wide shot eyes.

You drove without a care in the world, thoroughly enjoying the whole experience of driving over the small rolling hills. You rolled your eyes, one hand on the steering wheel, the other one giving Arthur’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, Arthur, don’t be so dramatic, ooooh look another dip, hold on tight,” you quickly announced with a delighted squeal navigating the terrain like a self-proclaimed pro.

The car rattled and jerked,” F-f-f-udge,” Arthur yelled out, hand shooting forward to the glove box to steady himself and prepare for the impact.

“Whoooooohooo! This is great! Who knew driving could be this fun,” you exclaimed full of joy, eyes sparkling as you spotted the next mountain to go up and conquer.

Arthur’s panicked eyes followed your line of sight, and it certainly didn’t take a genius to know what you had planned. “My love, my darling, my heart and soul, for all that is good and holy, please I beg of you, please PLEASE STOP THE CAR”, he pleaded and prayed. It was not his birthday, but hells, he was making a birthday wish on your behalf—the wish to see another day.

You looked over at Arthur once more, and upon seeing the distress crossing his feature, you cut your bundu bashing adventure short. Although realization quickly dawned upon you, spending all this time driving across the mountainside, you had not really mastered the art of coming to a smooth stop. So, you did what any new learner would do when someone demands the vehicle to a standstill. Thrust both your feet forward at the same time and pull at the emergency brake.

Arthur launched forward as the car came to a screeching halt, dust being kicked up and settling around the car— the perfect execution of an emergency stop, you mused.

Heart hammering in his ears, Arthur let go of broken laughter, hands feeling himself in disbelief, “I’m alive? I’M ALIVE! GOD, I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.”

You rolled your eyes, looking over at him, completely unimpressed, “ohhh, come on, it was not that bad? Was it?”

“I think I might just need a change of underwear after that ‘thrilling experience’,” he exaggerated, throwing the car door open and dramatically flopping onto the ground.

Why he was so happy, he almost kissed the ground. He looked at you from his place on the dirt, “I am going to need a stiff drink. Blimey bird, that was nerve-wracking.”

You turned the car off, hopping from your seat and slinking up to Arthur to offer him a hand up, mischief glowing in your eyes, “I mean, but did you die tho?”

With a shake of the head and another thankful chuckle emanating from his chest, he placed his hand in yours, “And who taught you to be this cheeky, honestly Luv.”

Climbing into the driver seat, Arthur adjusted the mirrors and started the car, his usually charming grin once more gracing to his features. “Shall I show you how it is done,” he bragged, full of confidence, happy to be back in control of the mechanic stallion.

He started the car; however, as the saying goes, ‘pride before the fall’, he failed to give enough gas and stalled the vehicle upon pulling away.

‘Shit’, he thought, sparing you a sheepish glance only for you to burst out into full-blown laughter. “You are going to show me what now; perhaps I should be the one to teach you,” you smacked your knee snorting out.

Arthur pouted, a shade of pink coming to rest upon his cheeks in embarrassment. But before he could even answer, an unimpressed grunt could be heard coming from the back seat, “That’s it, both of you out! NOW!”

Two pairs of eyes snapped back to the source of the voice only to lock onto a very, VERY traumatized and unimpressed looking dutch. He stomped out of the car before dragging Arthur from the driver’s seat.

“That is the last time I EVER let either of you near my car,’ he scowled angrily, turning the ignition and putting the car into gear.

“Hmpf can’t believe I fell for the ‘let’s go and get some birthday pancakes’ trick,” he grumbled under his voice, making his way back to the main road.

“Why old goat, that is an excellent idea!” Arthur chimed in from the backseat, starting a chant that would inevitably lead to getting what he wanted.

You joined in, of course, chanting happily with an equally broad smile littered on your face, “birthday pancakes, birthday pancakes, birthday pancakes.”

With a scoff of irritation, Theo was helpless but to go along with the whims of the day; after all, he did love pancakes, and after that traumatizing experience, he would need some sugar to cleanse his soul.

“Hmpf fine, but only because it is this one’s birthday,” he finally barked out with a roll of the eyes, yet an unmissable smirk of excitement making its way onto his lips.

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part two.   here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone.  tw:  war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝  god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death.  ❞

❝  that’s what yom kippur means:  the day of atonement.  ❞

❝  that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff.  ❞

❝  normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady.  ❞

❝  thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in.  ❞

❝  suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year.  ❞

❝  the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library.  ❞

❝  why does time only run forward?  why does cause need to precede effect?  ❞

❝  no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not.  ❞

❝  i didn’t say i was interested.  ❞

❝  [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day.  ❞

❝  coffee. i was making coffee.  ❞

❝  i didn't mean to get stuck out here.  ❞

❝  that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things:  take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were.  ❞

❝  she was good at that:  making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her.  ❞

❝  i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment.  ❞

❝  maybe there was someone in the stairs.  ❞

❝  i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today.  ❞

❝  i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one.  ❞

❝  i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition.  ❞

❝  whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it—  ❞

❝  when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better.  ❞

❝  honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head.  ❞

❝  snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it.  ❞

❝  i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there…  ❞

❝  would you say you… considered her a friend?  ❞

❝  would you mind saying your name again?  for the recording?  ❞

❝  if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab.  ❞

❝  most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too.  ❞

❝  i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with…  ❞

❝  if i could sleep, then trust me, i would.  ❞

❝  i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is.  ❞

❝  my schooling was expensive and unremarkable.  ❞

❝  a lot of them died afraid and alone, too:  ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience.  ❞

❝  look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind…  ❞

❝  basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong.  ❞

❝  now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama..  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t get you sacked.  ❞

❝  i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell.  ❞

❝  i think it may have been a thank you.  ❞

❝  i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on.  ❞

❝  i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early.  ❞

❝  everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper.  ❞

❝  i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall.  ❞

❝  it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void.  ❞

❝  if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker.  ❞

❝  better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927.  ❞

❝  i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here.  ❞

❝  goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food.  ❞

❝  i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood?  ❞

❝  no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a.  ❞

❝  what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning?  ❞

❝  you ever wonder where the line is?  you know, between human and not?  ❞

❝  the funny thing i’ve noticed about war:  no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ❞

❝  a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary.  ❞

❝  i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it.  ❞

❝  the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights.  ❞

❝  it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping.  ❞

❝  perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another.  ❞

❝  most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade.  ❞

❝  i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open!  ❞

❝  i don’t know why she needed my help:  i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers.  ❞

❝  we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye.  ❞

❝  i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried.  ❞

❝  it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front.  ❞

❝  i offered to buy him a cup of coffee.  ❞

❝  newspapers praised them at the time:  saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage.  ❞

❝  i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there.  ❞

❝  i did the only thing that came to mind:  i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it.  ❞

❝  i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully.  ❞

❝  given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse.  ❞

❝  i really can’t see anything from inside the van.  ❞

❝  i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them.  ❞

❝  it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man.  ❞

❝  i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away.  ❞

❝  scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost.  ❞

❝  please… it burns my skin… please…  ❞

❝  i forgot how fast storms blow in up here.  ❞

❝  it’s not like i felt out of control:  it felt more natural than breathing.  ❞

❝  i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next.  ❞

❝  it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years.  ❞

❝  god, these things are creepy as hell.  ❞

❝  if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course.  ❞

❝  it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again.  ❞

❝  it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there.  ❞

❝  i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep.  ❞

❝  i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school.  ❞

❝  they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon.  ❞

❝  i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t…  ❞

❝  my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call.  ❞

❝  i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t.  ❞

❝  i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient.  ❞

❝  god, if that’s really how i sound…  ❞

❝  people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it.  ❞

❝  i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.  ❞

❝  i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how.  ❞

❝  well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes.  ❞

❝  i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over.  ❞

❝  maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here…  ❞

❝  no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems.  ❞

❝  i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading.  ❞

❝  i have to say, i like your jane doe.  ❞

❝  she was a scientist herself.  maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities.  ❞

❝  seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity?  hang a  ‘ do not disturb ’  sign on the door?  change all my locks?  ❞

❝  maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’  ❞

❝  jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday.  ❞

❝  maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea.  ❞

❝  more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then.  ❞

❝  now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here.  ❞

❝  the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon.  ❞

❝  i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed.  ❞

❝  it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of.  ❞

❝  huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before.  ❞

❝  apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave.  ❞

❝  maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them.  ❞

❝  i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice.  ❞

❝  sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old…  ❞

❝  okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright?  can’t exactly retire on this salary.  ❞

❝  but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared.  ❞

❝  i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened.  ❞

❝  i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more.  ❞

❝  whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous.  ❞

❝  are you familiar with temporal asymmetry?  ❞

❝  i just want to make that abundantly clear:  this /wasn’t/ the plan.  ❞

❝  right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record.  ❞

❝  though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.  ❞

❝  a cracker of a book, young lady.  ❞

❝  no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares.  ❞

❝  i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around?  ❞

❝  i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there.  ❞

❝  having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time.  ❞

❝  we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason:  no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen.  ❞

❝  i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real.  ❞

❝  when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead.  ❞

[themadlostgirl]

Keeping Warm (2)

*Did I make a second part to this because one person asked for it? Yes I did. Come to me my Felix simps! Enjoy your fluff!*

~~~

That had to be the best sleep I’ve had in a while! This cloak was a lot better than my old one. I wonder how long I could get away with keeping it before the boys stole it back. I folded it up neatly and hid it under my cot so it wasn’t out in the open for them to steal back.

I left my tent and noticed that the boys that had been laughing and teasing me yesterday were keeping a wide berth from me today. I had no problem with that. The farther away they stayed the better.

Since I was truly well rested for the first time in a long time I decided to take advantage of my energy and practice my archery. Before Neverland I never had a need to learn how to wield a weapon but archery was fun and it helped in hunting small game. I grabbed my bow and quiver of arrows before setting off into the jungle. When it came to game on the island there wasn’t a whole lot outside of fish and some birds but they didn’t make for much food.

If you wanted a good meal you had to head into the dark jungle of the island. It’s where all the big game lived since anyone ventured in there. You could sometimes find a rogue boar running around outside of the dark jungle but they mainly stayed within the perimeter. Other than boars there was also a type of goat that lived there. The boys had tried keeping some of the goats for milk a while back but after the “incident” all the goats were shoved into the dark jungle and water became the only acceptable source of drink. Probably for the best.

I was out tracking for a while when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I tried to make it out through the foliage and saw the head of a goat pop up. Gotcha. I notched an arrow and took aim. I let the arrow fly and cheered when it went right through the goat’s eyes.

“What the hell?” Another head popped up, this time it wasn’t a goat though. Felix turned to look at me. “What was that?”

“Sorry!” I rushed over, “I was hunting and saw the goat head. I didn’t mean to shoot at you. What are you doing out here?”

“Same as you it seems. I had been tracking this fat bastard for over an hour.” He kicked the dead goat at our feet. “Almost had it too before you got it first. Nice shot by the way.”

“Thanks! I was really lucky this time around. I usually don’t get a clear shot like that.” I tore the arrow out of the goat’s head. “Since you’re here do you mind helping me lug this beast back to camp?”

“Sure,” Felix heaved the goat up and threw it onto his shoulders. “Let’s get moving.”

“This will surely make for a good dinner tonight.”

“You really wanna let those jerks tear into your catch?” Felix asked.

“I mean not really but this is way more food than you and I can eat so we kinda have to split it up.” I shrugged, “Why do you care anyway? I thought you liked the other Lost Boys.”

“They’re my brothers but brothers can get damn annoying.” He muttered, “Taking shit that doesn’t belong to them and whatnot.”

“Ugh, I know what you mean.” I sighed, “They stole my cloak out of my tent last night so I stole one of theirs as payback.”

“Did you now?” Felix trudged further ahead, “Did you give it back yet?”

“No and I don’t plan to. Mine was so thin it didn’t help at all but this one is really warm so unless they come and pry it away from me I’m not giving it up. It also helps that is smells good so I cuddle up in it even tighter.” My face started heating up after I realized what I just admitted. “Sorry, that was a lot of unnecessary information.”

“It’s fine,” Felix muttered.

I jogged to fall into step next to him. I grabbed an apple out of my bag and started cutting off slices with my knife. I wordlessly offered one to Felix. This time when I popped it into his mouth for him though I didn’t roll my eyes since his hands were full carrying the goat. We trekked back to camp in companionable silence. Felix set the goat down for the others to skin and cook while we rested.

We sat down on a log together while I picked bits of goat fur off his shoulders.

“Felix,” One of the boys approached us, “Pan was looking for you earlier but you were away from camp so he wanted me to pass on a message.”

“And?” Felix asked.

“He’s gone off the island on a mission of sorts. Says he may not be back till morning at the latest so you’re in charge till then.”

“Got it.” Felix nodded and the boy ran off again.

“Man in charge tonight,” I poked his shoulder, “Don’t crack under the pressure, captain.”

“Har har,” He rolled his shoulder ushering me off, “Being in charge for a night doesn’t entail much. I just have to make sure these idiots don’t go rogue during Pan’s absence and do something stupid like burn the camp down again.”

“These boys can really be just the dumbest things on the face of the earth, can’t they?” I shook my head. Then my body shook. A cold gust of wind blew through the camp. It wasn’t like the slightly cooler breezes that Neverland usually had. This was cold. Really cold.

The other boys felt it as well. All of them rushing to their tents and reappearing with cloaks and others running for firewood. “What’s going on?” I asked Felix as I rubbed feebly at my arms.

Felix sighed. “I almost forgot that this happens when Pan leaves. He so rarely does anymore it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“What?”

“When Pan leaves then time stands still. I don’t mean that in the way that tie naturally stands still here. I mean the island basically goes into hibernation without him around. Depending on how long he’s been gone we should start to see the beginnings of…” Felix looked up. The once clear sunny sky had been replaced with dark dreary clouds.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s gonna rain!” I pouted.

“Worse than that.”

We sat there for a minute as delicate white flakes started falling from the sky. “Snow?!” I gaped at the offending weather. “How is there snow? This is a tropical island!”

“It is a magic island too though.” Felix said. “You may want to grab something to put on, viper. It’s only gonna get colder.”

“Right, I’ll be right back.” I ran back to my tent and pulled the cloak out from under my cot. I put it on but while it was thick enough to keep out the chill of the night it was just another feeble layer against the bitter cold that we had been subjected to now.

I went back to the log where Felix and I had been seated but he wasn’t there anymore. I made my way towards the bonfire the boys had started and huddled as close as I could get to the flames. I really hope the boy I stole the cloak from won’t try to take it back now. I fear I’ll freeze to death without it.

The sky grew even darker and the island got even colder. We were quickly burning through our supply of firewood and I knew that it would run out soon. When that happened it was every man for themselves. I figured I’d hunker down in my tent and try to keep warm by myself until Pan returned and the cold went away.

I stayed by the fire as it dwindled down to faintly glowing coals. The snow had really piled up and my toes were numb in my boots. Oh no! I didn’t even take into account the snow! I ran as fast as I could to my tent but it was of no use. The snow had weighed it down and it crumpled. My cot was soaked and the beams I had used to pitch it had snapped. This was just great.

It looked as if the other boys had gotten the memo to keep the snow from piling up on their tents since they rest were still standing. Would have been nice if they mentioned something to me. I shivered violently against another harsh gale of wind and trudged away from my ruined tent. Maybe I could find Felix and he’d take pity on me and let me stay in his tent for the night.

I scoured the wintry white camp but saw no Felix. He was probably already hunkered down. If only I knew which tent was his.

~~~

Damn this cold. Why did the island have to go into hibernation just cause Pan wasn’t around? It really wasn’t fair. Felix hated it all the more since he didn’t have anything to keep him warm now that he had let you have his cloak.

Upon realizing just how bad it was going to camp Felix remembered something that could help him keep warm. He jumped up and ran into the jungle until he found the old, gnarled dead tree that years and years ago had been the first home of the Lost Boys. He knocked against the trunk until he found the hatch that opened up. It would be a tight fit but if he kept his arms close to his chest then...Felix slipped down the hollow trunk of the tree and was deposited into an underground cavern.

He lit a torch along the wall and breathed in the dusty but altogether warmer air. This place looked as if it hadn’t been touched in decades. It probably hadn’t. Felix only ever remembered this place when Pan left and turned the rest of the island into a wintry hellscape. He never told any of the other Lost Boys about this warm oasis since he didn’t want them crowding in around him.

Felix was down there clearing cobwebs and shaking out the dusty furs and blankets when he was hit with a sharp realization. He left you back at camp. He left the one person who cannot handle any amount of cold in any way back in a blizzard!

“Shit!” Felix hissed and climbed back out of the cavern. He raced back to camp and spotted you easily enough since you were the only one still outside. Why were you outside? Why weren’t you in your tent at least?

“Hey,” He shouted, pulling you away from where the bonfire had been, “What are you doing out here?”

“Tent collapsed under the snow.” Your whole body was shaking so bad that it even bled into your voice. “Was looking for you…”

“Come on,” He grabbed your hand and tugged you along, “I know someplace we can go to wait this out.”

Felix knew it was a bad time but he couldn’t get over the sight of you in his cloak. It was just like last night when he got that strange fluttering in his chest. He gripped your hand tighter and tried pulling you faster but you ended up losing your balance and tripping. Felix caught you before you landed in the snow but he could tell you were having trouble keeping up.

“We’re almost there, just a little further,”

“I can’t feel my toes,” You whimpered.

“Damn it,” Felix ran a hand through his hair. “Well we can’t stay out here. Hold onto me.” With that Felix gathered you in his arms and pulled you off the ground. He hiked his way back to the dead tree with you held in his arms. This was the first time he had really been this close to you. Your head nestled on his shoulder as your body trembled. He set you down long enough to open the hatch on the dead tree again and set you inside. You went sliding down and Felix shortly followed.

“Where are we?” You gazed around the cavern you both were in. “It’s warm in here.”

“My own little get away when the island goes into stasis.” Felix explained. He helped you up and ushered you towards the bed at the back of the cavern covered in blankets and furs. “You’ll keep warm down here.”

“Blankets!” He burrowed underneath the blankets with a content sigh. “I am never leaving this pile.”

“Thought you’d enjoy that.” Felix smiled. “Are your toes still numb?”

“A little.”

“Let me see, I want to make sure you don’t have frostbite.” He instructed.

You untied your boots and Felix grimaced when he saw that your socks had been soaked through. You peeled those off too. There was no way to make this awkward so Felix grabbed your feet and inspected them, pushing on your toes to make sure they hadn’t incurred any damage.

“Good news, you get to keep your toes.” Felix pushed your feet off his lap and pulled the blanket you were wrapped in back over them.

“That is a relief.” You smiled brightly. “Thanks for sharing this space with me.”

“Well I wasn’t just gonna let you suffer out there in the cold. The others deserve it but not you.” Felix said. The fluttering was back and he could feel it’s way creeping up his neck into his face. The air in the room suddenly felt too hot. He shuffled back to the foot of the bed further away from you.

There was a beat of silence.

“Hey Felix?” You crawled over to sit next to him.

“Yeah?” Felix tried not to look at you lest the pink in his cheeks be noticed.

“Where is your cloak? Don’t tell me you were out running around in this weather without grabbing it.” You said. Felix resisted a bark of laughter. Said cloak was still around your shoulders and you clutched it tightly in your hands as you looked at him.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” He pulled the hood up over your head and down in front of your eyes. “You kinda stole it, viper.”

“Huh?” Your eyes peeped out from under the hood. He watched with amusement as the realization hit you and you pulled the hood back down to hide. “I’m sorry! I had no idea it was yours! I thought it belonged to one of the jerks that stole mine!”

“It’s alright, you needed it a lot more than I did anyway.” He chuckled softly. “Glad to know you think I smell good though.”

“AGH!” You dove under the blankets to hide further. Your embarrassed voice still rung clear from underneath the furs. “I cannot believe I told you that!”

“Come now, it’s not that bad.” Felix couldn’t help the spark of joy he felt when he teased you. “Come out. I wanna talk to you.”

“Nope! I am never leaving again for the sake of my dignity.”

“Fine.” Felix took a deep breath and pulled the covers up over himself. Your face was inches away from his under the blankets. “I’ll just come to you.”

“Felix…” You muttered, you were still keeping your eyes down so you weren’t looking at him.

“I wanna know something.”

“What?”

“If you get so cold at night why didn’t you ask me for help? I could have brought you as many blankets as you wanted from down here.”

“I didn’t ask because I had already tried asking the other boys for help and all they did was make fun of me. I didn’t want you to tease me too.”

“Teasing you is fun but I’d rather you not freeze to death.” He said, “I also told the boys that if they steal anything from you again then they’ll answer to me.”

“Why would you do that?” You asked, “I get that we’re friends but you don’t have to fight my battles.”

“It’s because you are my friend that I want to help you, idiot.” He poked your forehead, “Which means threatening Lost Boys and letting you steal my cloak. It kinda feels like it’s my mission to keep you warm.”

“A noble cause indeed.” You laughed and Felix decided then that he had never heard a more pleasing sound.

Your smile softened and Felix got lost in your eyes for a moment. The fluttering was getting worse but he found he didn’t mind it. “Here,” You closed the distance between the two of you and left a quick kiss on his cheek, “A little token of thanks.”

Okay. Now he minded. It felt like a billion butterflies had gotten trapped in his ribcage. It was just a moment. A mere second of contact but it lit his body from the toes up as if he had stepped into a fire.

“You okay? Did I cross a line? Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just thankful for what you did and you’ve always been nice to me so--”

“Give…” Felix mumbled under his breath but it was enough to stop your mess of ramblings.

“You say something?” You asked.

“Give you…” Felix took a deep breath but it did little to calm his nerves. “Want to give you one.”

“Give me one what?” You asked.

“A...um…” he tapped his cheek. This was stupid! Why was he trying to initiate this right now? It was only meant to be a thank you kiss between friends and he was making it weird!

“Oh!” Your face got even hotter than it had a moment before. “I mean if you really want to then go ahead. Can I ask why first?”

“A thanks for never dropping a hermit crab in my mouth whenever you offer me food?” he joked. You laughed again, the tension between you breaking.

“I do deserve thanks for that.” You nodded and presented your cheek, “Go ahead.”

Okay Felix. Do not screw this up. There is not conceivable way to mess this up. He inched closer and left a darting kiss to your warm cheek.

“I bring you a lot of snacks,” Your voice was a whisper, “I think maybe that’s worthy of two kisses.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Felix turned your face so he could kiss your other cheek. “While we’re at it I think I’m owed more thanks for lugging that big goat of yours back to camp. It wasn’t light at all.”

“I suppose you do.” You grinned wider. This time when you kissed him you pressed it to the tip of his nose. “You also carried me here so if we think about it logically then I should--”

“Just kiss me already.” Felix pulled you closer.

“Yes sir,” You held his face in your small warm hands and kissed him on the mouth. Your lips were so soft and you tasted sweet like berries. “Felix,” You murmured against his lips.

“Hm?”

“If this is another way of keeping warm, it’s working.”

“Then we probably shouldn’t stop.” His lips met yours again. He couldn’t have you getting cold again after all.

---

(Part 1)

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @bamchickawowow​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 4

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 3103

WARNINGS: Child abuse, night terrors, fluff

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       Six weeks had passed since your ship went down and Maul 'rescued' you. Thanking him with a kiss to his cheek that neither of you mentioned after that night. Since he was rebuilding muscle that used to be there rather than starting from scratch, he built himself back up fairly quickly. Especially because you were constantly nagging at him to eat if he didn’t take the initiative to do it himself at least three times a day. His face was fuller and his arms and chest much more prominent under his trademark deep v tunics. His thighs were also thickening up quite nicely you thought often to yourself. His eyes still glowed gold but it was a honeyed glow like a sunset, so much softer than they once were. No longer bloodshot and raging.

    Some days he would push his progress much too far and require soaking in an unbelievably hot bath. You would’ve been almost frightened if he hadn’t told you his core temperature was much higher than yours. You always offered massages to which he would try to turn down but you never really let him refuse. You could tell he wanted them. His entire demeanor would change if you only brushed against him let alone actually dedicated time to rubbing the strain from his muscles. Whatever horrors he dealt with as apprentice to a Sith Lord he had no comfort to turn to before, that much was apparent. Followed by a decade of forced solitude, you always made him melt with ease.

    He was a worthy sparring partner to say the least. Despite having new legs, he was incredibly nimble. His muscle memory was powerful at worst, awe striking at best, but he was still easily flustered which was his downfall. Every. Single. Time. Just recently you dodged a swing of his crimson Saber by dropping into a split and throwing your head backwards. The sight of it caused him to lose his footing. One of the goats bleated at him like she was laughing which of course sent you into a giggle fit of your own as you stood back up to your feet clutching your sides.

    Today you two would be doing something different though, assuming he would accompany you, which was a safe assumption. The two of you sat at your small table by the kitchen drinking caf, Maul was eating waffles you had freshly cooked while you flipped through an encyclopedia you yourself had written on the planet.

"What are you looking for?" He asked, trying to see what you were reading from the other side of the table.

    Leaning back in your chair you took a long drink of your caf, finishing the mug with a sigh. "Well, there's a particular ocean species that lives here that migrate through this side of the planet once every few years. If I remember right, because I can't find my notes..." You stood and walked to refill your cup. "If I remember correctly, they should be passing right by us today or tomorrow or… sometime soon. Honestly I don’t know why I write anything down if I can’t look back on it when I need it.”

Maul suppressed a smirk. He had come to realize that with all your brilliance and various talents you could be unorganized and forgetful. Just the other day he caught you frantically looking for a seventh goat, having to remind you that you only had six. Six goats, seven chickens, one rooster.

    Still wearing your dangerously short sleeping shorts and with your back to him, Maul had a moment to admire your legs without threat of you noticing. "What creature is it?" He asked while eyeing a scar on your inner thigh he hadn't noticed before following the curve of your backside.

"Well, they don't have a name, from what I know anyway but they look a lot like the Purgill that live in space. Not nearly as big cause, you know, space is a lot bigger than the ocean here." You stirred cream into your brew and sat back down crossing your legs.

Now he leaned back in his chair, shoulders shaking lightly with a silent chuckle, “you know I did know space was bigger than the ocean here.”

You playfully pointed your spoon at him in a mock warning before smiling and continuing.

"I'm gonna go down to the beach and see if I can find them. They're one of my favorites on this planet. We're nearing the mating and migration time of a few species actually so wildlife is gonna be more apparent around here."

"I'll have to flip through that book of yours and study up." He smiled at you.

"Well you're lucky you have someone like me who knows this planet pretty damn well. Even if I can’t find my notes." You flashed him a returning smile and stood. Your hand ran over his scalp affectionately as you made your way to your room to get dressed for your adventure.

 ~~~~~

      Maker, did she realize exactly what she did to him he wondered. He swore he could still feel her touch after she had left. He was indeed lucky to have her, not just for her knowledge of this strange world. A now familiar knot grew in his belly once again, the same one that never failed to show up when she touched him. He wasn't sure what it was.

    He stood and cleared the table, washing the dishes from their breakfast in the sink. The first time he did this she had actually flustered almost embarrassed 'thank yous' saying she had meant to do them herself. Since that moment he made it his job. After all she did everything else for him. He ran fingers over his hearts down to his belly and gripped where the invisible knot formed. Most of her books were educational, breeching just about every topic at least fundamentally. She did however have a small collection of fiction. One of which he had read that held a romantic theme. Was this what love felt like? Happiness? Is this what Lord Sidious had kept from him his entire life? Or was it simply admiration?

    Not ever having felt anything like it before he couldn't say but one thing he did know for a fact. He hoped against all hope that in a way he'd never 'fully recover' fearing once the scale she talked about was perfectly balanced again she'd send him away and continue her life of solitude. She had sought this out. She had chosen this life. This planet, purposefully unpopulated with sentient life. As far as he knew and saw she was the only person here.

    His brows furrowed and as if she could sense his distraught increasing, he heard her call to him. "Darling," she mewled just loud enough for him to hear. Possibly too quick he made his way to the door of the fresher where he heard the water running. Darling he thought, he had never heard her call him that before, he was sure.

"There’s a pack hanging from the door, could you fill it with snacks for us? It'll probably be a while on the cliffs." He silently carried out her will, obsessing over the name she had called out from the shower. Thoughts of her naked body dripping with warm water, calling out to him filled his mind. He had to physically shake his head to focus. Just as he finished packing the last Meiloorun she entered the room wearing her usual training garb, barefooted as usual when she dressed in it.

    He watched as she added her encyclopedia and another small notebook to the pack along with a pair of electrobinoculars and a blanket. Swinging it over her shoulder she beamed at him obviously excited to see this strange creature.

    Once they were out the door she started sprinting calling out "race you!" Maul smiled and gave her a few more seconds head start greedily watching how her body moved so gracefully before taking off after her. Allowing himself to fall into the role of a hunter once again. This however being the only prey he ever really wanted to catch. This was his element. This is where he was most comfortable, chasing, hunting. His legs propelled him forward while his arms pumped at his sides, feeling the wind push him onward towards his goal. It was a long race but her speed never let up, she was incredibly fast but not so fast that she could escape him. Just before she reached the cliff's edge preparing to jump, he darted in front of her and caught her in his arms, spinning from the velocity alone. His arms latched tightly around her waist and hers wrapped around his neck pulling his face to that sweet spot just below her ear.

    They sat like that for what felt like only a second but also an eternity before a shaking hum rang through the air. Remembering what she had come for she pulled away excitedly.

"I thought we would be early but maker we made it just in time!" He released her and she jumped off the cliff, falling 200 feet before using the force to slow her fall lowering her safely to the sand below. Maul followed suit and met her where she stood, her toes wet with the tide rolling in over the sand before pulling back out to sea. Salt was heavy in the air but he could still smell her. Making her way back to the rock and clay cliffs she laid out the blanket and took a seat, spreading out her books and setting the food to the side. He joined her, sitting where he hoped wouldn't be too close.

    Before his mind could roam too far, she gasped and pointed to the sea clutching his arm in excitement. Breaching out of the depths a giant creature almost took flight but just for a moment, calling out in a singing hum. They had massive heads and rounded teeth with four tentacles that trailed behind them. They were all painted in the same deep blue but had uniquely shaped and colored markings. Unlike their space brethren they didn't have bioluminescent streaks on the inside of their tentacles.

    Maul watched in amazement as the creatures sang to one another, jumping and diving back down below like they were dancing for Y/N and his eyes alone. Looking through her electrobinoculars with one hand and sketching furiously with the other in the smaller of the two notebooks, never taking her eyes off of the Sea Purgill, she was entranced.

 "Have you ever seen such a beautiful, mysterious creature," she inquired utterly enthralled.

    Now he was watching her, smile plastered on her face, cheeks rosy with excitement and salt flecks sticking to her hair. "I can honestly say no, I have not in all my life witnessed such a beauty." She closed her notebook and put away the electrobinoculars, pivoting her head to look into his eyes again; softer than she had ever seen them.

    She scooted closer to him so their hips touched and leaned her head against his shoulder. Cautiously, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Together they sat like this for hours, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the mighty creatures frolic through the waves on ahead.

~~~~~

    You didn't want to move from this spot. He hadn't touched you since he pulled you from your crashed shuttle yet you found every excuse to make fleeting contact with him. Now, with his strong arm wrapped around you, hand gripping your waist, your head nestled into his chest you could hear his tandem hearts beating. Beating hard, it both soothed and excited you. Falling for this tattooed warrior was not on your original agenda. Falling for anyone at all was never something you craved or saw yourself doing. Not because of the same reasoning as the Jedi you had tutored under. No, you didn’t fear attachment. It had always just looked like a distraction or a nuisance.

    Yet you found yourself falling for him nonetheless. Selfishly you had hoped that the scales would never again be balanced because once they do, once he is completely and utterly healed... he would leave. Wouldn't he? Why would he want to stay here on this unpopulated world with you and you alone? He had been forced into his solitude while you had searched for yours. You no longer craved silence; no longer did you wish for the seclusion of this lovely planet. All you wanted was to listen to the velvety melody of his voice, to feel the almost impossible heat he radiated.

    If you asked him to stay, would he? If he would ask you to leave with him, would you? You didn’t think you could leave. Not with the war raging across the galaxy. This was the only place where you couldn’t hear every scream of every person torn from life by mindless violence that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place. Feel every tear through the fabric of the force every time a Jedi either fell to the dark side or was killed. You can’t leave, and if you can’t leave for him; how could you ask him to stay for you?

    The sun was starting to set and the creatures' appearances became less frequent. A realization dawned on you. Sensing your change Maul lifted his head to look at you, brows furrowed.

"The night of every migration a storm follows these beings. We should head back, whether it's rain or snow or wind it will be brought down on us soon." You watched him stand and extend a hand to you, taking it, he pulled you into a tight embrace. Both arms around you securely he whispered a thank you, lips just brushing against your ear. You didn't ask him what he was thanking you for, simply returning the hug with an equal fervor.

    The two of you quickly packed up, leaping up the cliffs and making your way back home. Just as the cottage was in your eyeline the dark sky opened. Temperatures plummeting, snow fell from the heavens with a savage determination. Running now, you locked your animals in the barn and cranked up the heat. Power was hard to come by here with only the infrastructure that you had installed yourself, allowing only one heater for your homestead. Giving it to the animals was an easy decision.

    Maul took your hand and ushered you inside, 6 inches had already stuck to the ground and your exposed skin was cold to the touch. Your bare feet no exception. He lit the hearth himself to take the chill off the room and wrapped you in a warm blanket. Before you could even think to ask, he brought you a hot cup of your favorite tea. He glowered over the fact that you still shivered.

    He took your blanket and gathered you up into his arms, draping the blanket around the both of you. Holding your freezing feet in his hand. The heat he put off was almost burning against your form but you were more than grateful, sinking into him. You both fell asleep in each other’s arms but the dreams you had that night weren't your own.

 A darkly hooded figure stood tall above a scarlet whimpering child. Tears streaked the red and black face of the young boy until the figure spoke. "Did I say you could eat yet?" He asked calmly but with venom in his tone. "N-no master I'm sorry I'm just... so hungr..." the boy was cut off when bolts of electricity shot out of his master and punished the boy. He screamed in agony, his cells burning. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE FROM ME APPRENTICE!" eating in front of the starving boy he screamed and continued to shock him. "YOU WILL KILL AND EAT WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR!" The boy still screaming managed to reply. "Yes master... I'm sorry master... Forgive me... PLEASE." He begged. He was attacked until his body started smoking "WHAT ARE YOU!" His master demanded as he finally released the child. The boy's claws dug into his forehead until he bled, sobbing. "I said WHAT ARE YOU?" his master demanded, shocking him again.

"I AM HUNTER... I AM FEAR... I AM FILTH... I AM NOTHING!" Screaming in torment he fell over, silent. He was tossed out carelessly onto a burning terrain surrounded by fiery pits of lava.

    You awoke first, tears falling from your own eyes and you looked upon the man that lay next to you. He was still asleep but he was shaking, whining, nails digging into his own arms. You took his wrists and begged him to wake up.

"Maul... Maul darling please wake up!"

     His eyes shot open blown out in fear and snarling, sitting up ready to kill until he focused on you. You softly pushed him down on the couch so he rested on his back. You leaned over him, wrapping your legs around his waist and running your hands soothingly over his body. Peppering his face in kisses whispering "you are safe... you are cared for... you are my joy... you are cleansed... you are everything." Tears welled in his eyes threatening to spill over. He gripped you with bruising fingers as if you would disappear should he let go. "I have you... you're with me... he can't find you here.." you continued to sooth him between tender kisses.

    He looked up at you with those shimmering gold eyes, one hand entangling in your hair, he pulled your lips onto his with a desperation. He needed proof that he was in fact awake and not in a different dream. You brushed one of your hands against his cheek and gripped the back of his head, horns between your fingers and deepened the kiss. He slightly opened his mouth in a pleasured moan; eyes rolling back. Taking it as an invitation you glided your tongue over his teeth and against the tip of his tongue which he immediately responded but not the way you expected. He broke the kiss and pulled your body even closer to his as if to turn the two of you into one. For the rest of the night, you held one another, he had never been so thankful for his night terrors.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes:  WC: 7.4k

+

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Desiderium

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter One

A JSE Fanfic

Hey! Hey! New AU! :D I’m really excited for it! As you can probably tell from the title, this is a fantasy-themed one. Taking place in the kingdom known as Glasúil, where magic and strange creatures are common, a man called Chase lives a simple life in a mountain village with his family. But of course, something just has to happen, and, well...you’ll see next chapter ;) Feel free to ask me anything about this AU, even though it’s still in its early stages I have a lot of ideas that I’m eager to share!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The forest floor was blanketed in a layer of fallen leaves, red and orange and yellow matching the colors of those still on the tree branches. Bushes and shrubs made the terrain difficult for most people. But a single rabbit hopped across the ground, unhindered by the underbrush and making no sound on the crunchy fallen leaves. It stopped by a small bush, sniffed its leaves, and started to nibble on them.

Thwip! An arrow suddenly appeared next to the rabbit. It had barely landed when the rabbit was already running, darting off quickly. “Wait, no! No!” Someone shouted. A man appeared, shooting to his feet from where he’d been hiding behind a nearby bush. He nocked another arrow and let it loose, but it missed by a mile, landing in the trunk of a nearby tree. The rabbit was already gone.

“Damn it,” Chase cursed, looking down at his arm. That last shot had been sloppy; if he wasn’t wearing his arm guard, the bow string could’ve really hurt him. He tightened the guard straps and went to collect the arrows from where they’d landed. The one that hit the tree had its point chipped a bit. “Damn it,” he said again, whispering this time. If he kept chipping arrows, he’d have to buy more, and they couldn’t afford that right now.

Maybe he’d missed because it was starting to get dark. Chase looked through the branches of the trees towards the sky. He could see the rosy hint of a sunset in the distance. Well, if that wasn’t a sign that it was time to head back, he didn’t know what was. He’d already checked the snares he’d set up yesterday and set up new ones; there was nothing more to do. Disappointed, he turned back and headed east, towards town. Hopefully tomorrow he’d find more in the forest than three squirrels and a rabbit that he failed to shoot.

The trees soon thinned. Chase walked down a familiar slope of land and quickly saw the familiar buildings at the edge of town. Well, it wasn’t really a town. It was too small for that. It was actually a village, but people called it Hilltown, and so naturally it was shortened to just town. People said things like “Hey I’m heading back to town,” or “The millers live on the edge of town.” That might be confusing in a more urban setting, where there were more cities and towns close together, but they lived in the mountains. The village was the only “town” for miles.

Chase slipped in between two buildings and officially entered the village. These buildings were made of wood, and a bit rickety due to being built on sloping ground. When the village was founded, it was first built on a relatively flat area. But as it slowly grew, it had to creep upwards onto the incline that led up to the forest. The way the buildings continued onto the slope was the reason people started calling it Hilltown, though Chase had never been fond of the name.

“Hey! Is that you, Chase?”

“Huh?” Chase stopped, and looked around. He quickly spotted the source of the call: an older man, with a black beard streaked with gray, standing in the doorway of a house. “Hi, Kieran. How’re you doing?”

“Doing fine, boy,” Kieran said good-naturedly. “Come back from hunting so soon?”

“Well it is sunset. Do you expect me to shoot in the dark?” Chase commented, raising an eyebrow.

Kieran chuckled. “So...did you shoot any beaver today?”

“No, Kieran, there are no beavers in the mountains,” Chase sighed. The older man had been living here for three years, and he couldn’t seem to grasp that.

“Ah, if you say so,” Kieran waved away. “If you ever do catch one—”

“—I can bring the pelt to you, I know,” Chase finished. And again, he’d been offering that same proposal for three years.

“That’s the spirit! I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Be seeing you.”

Chase headed onward. As the ground started to level out, the buildings became sturdier, with more made of stone bricks, and grew closer together. The streets weren’t paved, but they were cleared, dusty paths well-trod. A few people were out, though not as many as there would have been earlier in the day. Mostly small kids running around and a few people taking turns getting water at the well in the center of the town. Chase waved at them, and they nodded back. One of them, Terrance the tailor, called out “How’re you doing?” and Chase answered, “Doing fine!”

Shortly after passing by the well, he came across the tallest building in town, and was once again stopped by someone calling his name. “Mister Chase!”

He stopped and turned to face the building: the temple. The couple that ran it were standing outside the doorway. One of them, Mother Aoife, was waving at him. “Hello, Mother. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, well, can I ask you a question?” Mother Aoife said. She gestured at the entrance. “Do you think we’d have room for another holy symbol up there?”

“Uh...” Chase took a step back. The doorway to the temple had two symbols on either side of it, showing that members of either faith could practice inside. To the left was a blue candle, almost as long as a person’s arm, burning and dripping wax. To the right were two interlocking circles the size of someone’s head: one gold-ish with small triangles around the edge, one silver-ish with a line down the center. “I mean...I guess you could put one above the door.”

“No, we can’t do that!” Mother Aoife said. “That would imply that one faith is higher than the others.”

“Right. Then, I’m guessing it would be the same if you put a symbol in the space beneath one of the other two?”

“Exactly.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Pastor Cait frowned. She was the other leader at the temple, and was Mother Aoife’s wife. They’d actually held two ceremonies, one for each of their respective faiths. That day had been one of the most active days Hilltown had seen in the past ten years. “Besides, nobody in town follows the Forger.”

“But it is becoming popular with those down in the flatlands of Glasúil,” Mother Aoife insisted. “What if someone comes to visit and spread the faith?”

“Well, neither of us even know anything about the Forge, anyway,” Pastor Cait pointed out.

“We could always find someone.”

“That runs into the problem of nobody in town following the Forger.”

“Um...is that all you wanted me for?” Chase asked awkwardly.

“Oh no, I just thought I’d ask you first,” Mother Aoife said. “Stacia stopped by. She said to tell you that she was leaving early and would be home when you were done hunting.”

“Really? That’s strange.” Stacia usually worked all day, and with the fall harvest coming up, she’d probably be out on the farms from sunrise to sunset. “Why?”

“She said something about Quentin,” Mother Aoife said, frowning as she tried to remember. “I think he might’ve been getting sick? There was something wrong.”

Chase felt his heart drop, leaving his chest cold. “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

“Well, I—” Mother Aoife’s explanation was wasted. Chase was already running.

It wasn’t too far from here. He sprinted down the street, not bothering to look at any of the people he passed by, heading for the other edge of town. The buildings started to spread out again, small patches of vegetable gardens dotting the rows of low stone houses. He kept running until he reached his own, recognizing the garden of radishes outside and the rough chalk drawings on the stones outside, drawn by children. Without waiting, he threw open the wooden door and rushed inside.

“Dad?” Amabel, his daughter, was sitting on the edge of the rough wooden table, carefully trying to  tie the end of a string into a loop.

“Hi, Amy. Where’s your mother and brother?” Chase asked.

“Bedroom,” Amabel said, pointing at the doorway, blocked off by a hanging length of cloth.

“Thanks.” Chase ruffled her red hair as he walked past, not wasting any time and ducking underneath the cloth. “What happened? Is it bad?!”

Stacia looked up, clearly surprised. “Chase? What do you mean what happened?”

“Mother Aoife, down at the temple, she said that you said something happened with Quentin a-and that you were leaving early because of it,” Chase hurried through the explanation. “Is everything okay?!”

“Did she...well I guess it would sound bad if that’s all she said,” Stacia muttered. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

“Hi Dad!” Quentin was lying in the big double-bed that Chase and Stacia usually shared, propped up against the wooden frame. Their thick winter quilt was wrapped around him, his little face and dark curls being the only thing to poke out of the patchwork cloth.

“He fell in the water trough for Rainer’s sheep when I looked away,” Stacia explained, sighing. “Got pretty wet.”

“There was a goat staring at me!” Quentin said. He didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“It’ll probably be fine, but considering his...constitution, I-I thought it’d be best if I took the rest of the day off to keep an eye on him.” Stacia pulled the blanket up over Quentin’s head, much to his delight.

All the tension immediately drained from Chase’s body. He stumbled against the wall, losing his balance in the flood of relief. “Oh thank the elders,” he breathed.

Stacia stood up. She walked over to the bedroom window—the only one in their cottage to have glass—and made sure it was firmly closed. Then she turned to face Chase. “Did you...did you get back to town early and decide to check on us?”

“No, I just got back, I ran all the way here,” Chase said, catching his breath for the first time.

“Oh.” Stacia glanced at the arrows in his quiver, then at the three squirrels he had slung over his back. “Sorry, I guess I just thought, since you didn’t seem to find that much—”

“It’s fall, Stacy, animals are starting to hibernate,” Chase said, rubbing his eyes.

“Right. I always forget that.” Stacia nodded.

“How are things going at the farm?”

“Alright. Busy. You know, Jane told me that down in the flatlands, where it’s warmer, they grow potatoes through the winter. Which makes sense, but it’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Yea, pretty strange.” Chase stood up straight. “Well, I’m going to go take care of these squirrels.”

“Oh!” Stacia’s eyes widened. “Wait, before you do, do you remember that you’re going to start teaching Amabel shooting on Hunt’s Day?”

“Yes, don’t worry,” Chase assured her. “I already have a great spot marked out.”

Stacia let out a breath. “Good. With everything today, I almost forgot until now.”

“Well, clearly Amabel didn’t forget. I saw her trying to make a bow string in the main room.” Chase smiled. “It looked pretty good, for her first time doing it on her own.”

“Wonderful.” Stacia turned back to Quentin, who was picking at the seams of the quilt. “Now go take care of those squirrels. Are you going to make dinner or should I?”

“Uh. You seem busy, I’ll do it,” Chase offered. “Right after the squirrels.”

It was well into the night by the time everyone was settled down. Quentin was fine, he hadn’t caught a cold, which was a huge relief. He’d been born a bit weaker than other children, and didn’t have as much energy as them. He often fell ill, and it was always a worry to Chase and Stacia. Amabel was heartier, but she was a quiet child. She often wandered about on her own, and was very familiar with the layout of Hilltown and the potato farms on the edge of the village, where many people worked, including Stacia. At ten years old, it was about time for her to start taking up more serious chores, and she’d asked Chase to take her hunting more than once. Of course, she had to learn to shoot first, and luckily for her, he was ready to teach her soon.

They had mutton for dinner, which they’d traded for with Rainer. Chase had managed to shoot down a bird last week, and the farmer had gladly traded a sheep for that. Now they were all sitting, taking the time to rest. Stacia was sitting in the rocking chair, patching up a hole in one of her tunics, while Amabel and Quentin were sitting by the stone fireplace, both of them now under the winter quilt.

“Don’t get too close, kids,” Chase called from his position near the window, where he was drawing their curtains closed. “A spark could fly and catch that fabric on fire.”

“It’s fine,” Amabel said, pulling the blanket closer and wrapping it around her and Quentin’s legs. “Dad, we need new curtains, those are old.”

“I know, Amy,” Chase muttered, glancing at the threadbare fabric. “But we can’t get any right now, so we’re keeping these until they fall apart.”

“Hmm.” Amabel hummed. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we have a story?”

At that suggestion, Quentin perked up. “A story! Yes!”

Chase’s eyes lit up. “Oh, well, I guess we could have one.”

Stacia looked up. “It’s late. And you need your sleep, Quentin, just in case.”

“It’ll be a short one, then,” Chase said. He walked over and sat down in one of the three rickety wooden chairs by the table. The kids spun around so their backs were to the fireplace and scooted a bit closer, though not out of range for the heat of the fire. “Where do you want your story to be from tonight? Down in the flatlands? Maybe along the coast or in the ocean? Or even in Suilthair, where the king lives?”

“What about...here?” Amabel suggested. “In the mountains?”

“Hmm...” Chase stroked his chin, fingers running along his beard hair. “You know what? I think I could work with that.”

Quentin cheered. Amabel stayed quiet, but she leaned forward, ready to hear. Stacia sighed quietly, continuing to patch, but occasionally glanced upwards, showing she was listening as well.

“Do you know what our mountain range is called in the flatlands? It’s just home to us, but to them, we live in the Dragon’s Teeth.” Chase paused for Quentin to gasp. “It’s called that for two reasons. One, because of how high and pointy they are, looking a bit like teeth. Two, because years and years ago, before people moved up into the mountains, dragons lived here.”

“What?!” Quentin whispered. “Big dragons?! Like in the warrior story?”

“Even bigger! Because up in the mountains they had a ton of space to grow into. They lived in caves, and each dragon had its own mountain.” Chase smiled. “Of course, there aren’t any dragons anymore. At least, not in our kingdom. Who knows? Maybe there are more across the seas. But dragons were very magical, and a whole bunch of other magical creatures gathered around the spaces where they used to live, sucking up all the leftover magic.”

“Do wizards get their magic from dragons?” Amabel asked.

Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. Our family’s not that magical, so I never learned that. Maybe you could find that out one day.”

Amabel nodded, her little eyes determined to answer this question someday.

“But even though there aren’t any dragons anymore, there are a lot of other creatures. You know what I always say to do if something bad happens in town?”

“Run to the forest,” the kids said in unison.

“Exactly.” Chase nodded. “Mom and I will come find you. And if nothing’s happened by the next sunset,  you come back to town on your own.” That last part was added at Stacia’s request, since she was concerned about food and woodland animals. “You know all the rules about avoiding wolves and bears, but...there are magical things in the forest. So I have three more rules for you: if a deer has golden antlers, don’t bother it. If you see a horse out on its own, don’t touch it. And if you hear a woman crying, don’t go after it.”

Quentin nodded, but Amabel tilted her head to the side. “Why? And that last one, what if it’s Mom?”

“Well, you could recognize Mom’s voice,” Chase said. “I mean if it sounds like a strange woman. Because that might not be a woman at all. That could be a banshee. They won’t mean you any harm on their own, but if they see you, they’ll try to tell you about coming tragedies. Sounds like a good warning, right? Except that hearing this warning makes the tragedy more likely to happen. So you should stay away. One time, while I was out hunting about, um...ten years ago, before you were born. I was out with Micheal down the bend, we heard someone crying. I decided to walk away, but Micheal chased after it, and when he came back he said he found a banshee. And the next morning, very suddenly, his mother died.”

“Oh no,” Quentin breathed. “What about the other two?”

“A deer with golden antlers probably isn’t a deer at all. It could be the Elder Horned One in disguise. If you disturb him, you could find yourself whisked away to join his hunters. And a horse out on its own definitely isn’t a horse at all. It’s actually a kelpie. And if you touch a kelpie, you’ll get stuck to it. It’ll run into the nearest water and drag you under, and you won’t be able to let go.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough for the night,” Stacia said, standing up. “Amabel, Quentin, you’re all washed up?”

“Yes, Mom,” they said in unison. 

“Good. Off to bed with you.” Stacia hurried the kids over to the corner, where the small bed the two of them shared was tucked against the wall. “We’ll be seeing you in the morning,” she said, pulling back the blankets and tucking them in once the kids were under.

Chase wandered over. “Good night, Quen. Good night, Amy.” He gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

“Good night Dad,” Amabel said. Quentin was already yawning, face buried in the pillow. “Good night Mom.”

“Good night,” Stacia said, giving her and Quentin a kiss as well.

With that, the two adults retreated to the separate bedroom, quickly getting ready for bed. “You ended that story abruptly,” Chase commented.

“Well you did say they were going to get drowned by a kelpie,” Stacia pointed out.

“No, I said that they wouldn’t be if they didn’t touch it. It was a cautionary tale.”

“Still, not the best to hear at night.” Stacia ran a comb through her hair. “And also, I don’t think we should tell them to go into the forest anymore. Not without an adult there.”

“Really?” Chase frowned. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, come on, Stacy. I know it is, but you can’t tell me you didn’t run around the forest when you were their age. I know I did, and I walked out. Michael did. Terrance did. Wendy and Emilia did.”

“Things are different now,” Stacia said slowly. She shifted uneasily on her feet, then glanced out the window, as if making sure nobody was outside. “Look, you know Rose, Aodhan’s wife?”

“No, but I definitely know Aodhan, he runs the potato farms.”

“Well, Rose is married to him. The past week, she’s been working with us for the harvest, and...she says there are...new things in the forest.”

Chase paused. He’d been about to blow out the candle in the sconce by the door, but something about the way Stacia said that made him pause. “Like...what?”

“Townsfolk have been seeing the figures of...people,” Stacia whispered. “But not your regular, everyday people. These ones carry weapons, a-and they wear...masks. Masks shaped like animal faces. They move quickly and silently, and some think that they’re spirits of some kind.”

“I’ve...never heard of spirits wearing animal masks,” Chase said in a low voice.

“Neither have I. But here’s the thing: Rose doesn’t believe those rumors.” Stacia paused. “Did you know there’s trouble down in the flatlands? People are...unhappy. With how the king is running things.”

“What? That’s strange,” Chase muttered. “I remember hearing that he’s the best king Glasúil ever had.” Though now that he was thinking about it, it had been a while since he’d heard something like that.

“Well, it’s trouble either way to have people thinking that about a king,” Stacia said firmly. “And Rose thinks that these spirits in masks are just people running around the forest, hiding out, being rebels. And that’s dangerous, Chase. Animals and magic behave by certain rules you can expect, but people...you just don’t know with them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Chase muttered. He paused, then blew out the candle and headed back towards bed. “Well, I haven’t seen any of these masked spirits. And I’m in the forest every day. So it’s probably nothing to worry about yet.”

“That forest is big, Chase,” Stacia said, clearly worried despite his reassurance. “You’ve probably only explored a tiny part of it, and the same goes for anyone else in town.”

That was true. Even in his farthest hunting trips, he’d only gone far enough to find his way back to Hilltown relatively quickly. “I still say it’ll be fine,” he reiterated. “I don’t see why any rebels would bother us, even if they were out there.” He climbed into bed. “If I see something weird when I’m out tomorrow, I’ll reconsider it. Besides, it’s not good to think about things like this before bed, as you pointed out to the kids.”

Stacia sighed, and got into bed as well, pulling the blankets up. “I just...don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Chase nodded. “I don’t either,” he agreed softly. Then he took a deep breath. “Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night, Chase.” Stacia leaned over and blew out the candle on the bedside table, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight coming through the window. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning went the same as every other morning. The family had breakfast, either Stacia or Chase went out to manage the garden while the other took care of the kids—today it was Chase for the former and Stacia for the latter, though they switched every other day—then Stacia got ready to go to the farms and Chase got ready to go hunting. As always, the kids went with Stacia, wandering around within eyesight and earshot of her while she worked. Though Chase could tell Amabel was eager to start going into the more dangerous forest with her dad, judging by the way she kept looking at her miniature bow, still unstrung. He ruffled her hair and reminded her that Hunt’s Day was just two days away, then headed off, waving goodbye to Stacia and the kids.

Passing through town was the same as ever as well. Some people were lined up at the well, as they always seemed to be. It looked as though the temple was unchanged, so clearly Mother Aoife and Pastor Cait had resolved their issue. Kieran waved goodbye as Chase walked past, and reminded him to look for beavers to shoot. 

And from there...the day was largely uneventful. Which was not good. Hunting was always a lot of waiting and wandering and being quiet, occasionally interrupted by action as you aimed and shot at an animal. But in the fall like this, that last bit of action was becoming rarer. And it didn’t help that it was really starting to get cold. Chase could see his breath in the air in front of him, and he kept pulling his felt hat down over his head. It was old, and almost nobody else in town had one like it, but he kept it because it had a handy brim for blocking the sun. It was also good for cold days like these, when he hadn’t grabbed his jacket because he mistakenly believed it would be as warm today as it was yesterday.

The sun passed overhead. Chase stopped around midday to have a lunch of bread and jerky, then moved on. He stopped by his usual snares, but found that nothing had stumbled into them. Not even a few squirrels like the day before. Growing frustrated, and more than a little desperate, he wandered farther into the forest, but still found nothing. This was bad. Sure, they had a stockpile of preserved meat and jerky from his hunts during the summer, but that would run out eventually. And what if Quentin got sick, and needed something more hearty than dried, stringy meat? What would they do then?

It was starting to get late when he saw it. Just a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Chase stiffened, and slowly turned. There, right in between two trees, fully in view of him...was a deer. Its coat was dark brown, almost black, and it was grazing peacefully, not paying him the least bit of attention. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen a deer. That was a bit unusual, really. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was one here now. Slowly, he drew his bow.

The deer raised its head and started to walk away. Carefully, Chase followed it. He stepped carefully, making sure there were no twigs or crunchy fallen leaves before putting his foot down. After a while, the deer stopped again, grazing for a bit. Chase made sure he was in a good position, then raised his bow and reached towards the quiver on his hip. Then the deer started walking away again.

Chase followed it, for longer than he probably should have. The shadows grew more slanted, then started to take over, but he kept following the deer. Every time he got into a good position to shoot and started to grab an arrow, it moved on. After a while, it felt like a game. A game of...chase. He almost laughed when the thought occurred to him, but stopped just in time to catch the sound.

It was well into dusk when the deer wandered into a small circular clearing. Chase stopped, still hidden by the trees, and gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. Once the sun went behind the mountains in autumn, the temperature dropped rapidly. But it wouldn’t be long now. He had to get this deer. They needed it. And now it was just standing there, ears twitching. Chase raised the bow again, and this time when he reached for an arrow, he pulled it out and slowly nocked it, steadying his stance to take aim.

But then...no, something was different. The deer’s antlers...had they gotten bigger? More...curvy? Chase paused, puzzled. Then he took a closer look.

The antlers were...glinting. He was sure they were ordinary bone before, but now they looked almost...golden.

Gasping, Chase instantly let go of his bow and arrow. They landed in the undergrowth with soft thumps.

The deer’s ears stopped twitching. But instead of running away, it turned around. And it looked at him. And there was something different about its dark, dark eyes. Different from other deer eyes, from other animal eyes, that Chase had seen before.

He slowly raised his hands. “I—I didn’t kn—”

The deer looked away from him, turnin to the side, staring off into the distance. Then it broke into a run in the opposite direction, hooves making no sound on the forest floor.

For a long, long while, Chase just stood there, shivering, breath pluming in the air. Had that...really happened? Or had he just imagined it because he’d been out in the cold for so long? After some time, he bent over and picked up his bow and the arrow he’d dropped, putting them away. Well, it was also dark. He could’ve been just...seeing things in the moonlight. And speaking of moonlight, he should really be heading home by now. He was late. Now...which way was it?

He’d wandered a long way following that deer. It was dark and he wasn’t as familiar with this part of the forest as he was with areas closer to home. So by the time he found his way back, it was definitely night, no longer twilight. Stacia and the kids must be so worried. Chase picked up the pace.

Wait...if it was night, then why was there an orange glow in the distance? It was well past sunset. Chase squinted, and in a split second, he realized a few things: First, the glow was coming from the direction of Hilltown. Second, even if it was sunset, the forest was west of town, and therefore the town wouldn’t be between him and the sunset. Third, he was getting closer to the glow. Closer in a way that just didn’t happen with a setting sun. His heart froze. And he burst into a flat run, easily clearing the edge of the forest.

The village was on fire.

Chase just stood and gaped for a moment, feeling the heat from here. The wooden buildings that ran up the sloping ground were all ablaze. He could see dark shapes in the streets, and the figures of people running around, with—horses? A lot of horses. There were only about four in the whole town, and this was definitely more than that.

Snapping out of the daze, he ran, but in his haste, lost footing on the uneven ground and fell, tumbling head over heels for a bit before he managed to stop himself. “Ow...” he groaned, lifting himself up and coming face to face with the flames. Quickly, he threw himself backwards, scrambling to a safe distance.

Now that he was closer, he could definitely make out what was happening. The dark shapes on the ground between the burning buildings...were bodies. He couldn’t recognize anyone, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to look for any longer than necessary. And there were strangers wandering around. Some on foot, some on horses, but all wearing chain mail armor underneath dark tunics. Chase stared at them, wide-eyed. The strangers were shouting. To each other? To their horses? To anyone left? It was hard to tell.

But they hadn’t noticed Chase. Quickly getting to his feet, he started running around the edge of town. He had to get home! At this time of night, Stacia would be there, Quentin and Amabel would be there—were they okay?! They had to be okay! He didn’t know what he would do if—He wouldn’t forgive himself if he was away and missed being able to help them.

Going around town was a lot slower than going through it, but everything—everything—was on fire. Even the stone buildings! How was that possible?! If the stone buildings were on fire, their cottage could—he pushed himself to run faster.

He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He had to run into the town to get home. But the smoke—even from here, his eyes were watering. So he took his hat off and pressed it to his face, filtering it before he could breathe it in. And he plunged into the raging flames. Even staying in the center of the path, the heat was almost unbearable. But Stacia—Quentin, Amabel—

The cottage. Their home. It was also on fire. The old curtains were ash, the vegetable garden was a raging inferno. “Stacia!” Chase shouted. “Stacy! Quentin! Amabel! Stacy! Quen! Amy! Where are you?!”

Voices. Chase turned and saw some of those strangers nearby, one on a horse. And...he hadn’t noticed this before, but there was a symbol on the back of their dark tunics. A shield, black and blue striped, with a green circle in the center, a black dot in the center of that. The symbol was—it was—the symbol for their kingdom, the kingdom of Glasúil. Chase had never seen it in person, but everyone grew up learning of that insignia. And they also learned that, while local militia may wear a simplified green ring on their clothes, only soldiers working directly for the royal family were allowed to wear the full crest.

Chase recalled this fact dimly, but it didn’t really register. One of the strangers—the soldiers—started to turn around. And gasping, coughing a bit, Chase turned and ran right back out of town, never stopping until he was well clear of the last few houses, out onto the potato fields. In the distance, he saw the house of Aodhan and Rose, the farm owners. It was also on fire.

What was he supposed to do now?! Stacia, and the kids...were they...? No, no they couldn’t be.

The forest.

He’d told the kids to run into the forest if there was ever any danger in town. And sure, Stacia was concerned about rebels in the woods and those strange masked figures, but in the face of this? Maybe she would do the same. Well...it was all he could think of. The only straw he could grasp. Stumbling, Chase turned around and ran back the way he came.

The trees enveloped him in a strange sense of calm, a world removed from the blazing horrors of the burning town. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over some brush, then ran faster. “Stacia! Quentin! Amabel!” he yelled. Even with the distant light from the flaming ruins of the village, the trees above blocked out most of the light, leaving him in shadows. His eyes darted about for any movement. “Where are you?! Can you hear me?”

Abandoning all his hunter’s instincts telling him to stay quiet, he ran through the woods, staggering over brush and rocks that he couldn’t see in the darkness. “Can you hear me?! Answer me! Stacy! Quen! Amy!” Chase’s cries pierced through the silence. There was no sign of them. Maybe they’d gone farther. Thinking that, he plunged deeper into the trees.

Things quickly became unfamiliar. Whether it was because of the distance or because of the darkness, he couldn’t say. But the strangeness only spurred him on. What if his family was lost out here? Alone in the woods? He’d taught the kids something about foraging for food, but not enough, not in this situation. And Stacia was a farmer, not a hunter or a forester. He had to find them. He had to—

Chase noticed the lack of ground beneath his foot a split second after stepping forward. Then he fell. Luckily, it wasn’t off a cliff, but he did land with a loud splash! as he fell into some shallow water. Pebbles and rocks bit into this arms as he extended them out to brace for impact. He sat up, spluttering, now completely soaked. What was this, a stream? A pond? He couldn’t quite see in the dark, but he did know one thing: there were no streams or ponds near the town, and certainly not in the parts of the forest he knew.

Securing his hat, he stood up. His bow and quiver knocked against his side, and he then realized that the fall had caused most of his arrows to fall out. Well...that wouldn’t be good in the future. But he couldn’t see where they’d fallen into the water, and there was no time. He pressed onward.

The trees were close together, heavy branches blocking out the sun. Chase kept his arms out in front of him, to make sure he didn’t run into a trunk. If he couldn’t even see the trees, he definitely wouldn’t be able to see a person. And they wouldn’t be able to see him. “Stacia! Kids! A-are you out h-here?” He gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. It was cold before, and now it was later, and he was wet, making it positively freezing. “Stacy! K-kids! Are you here?!” But he kept going.

The rush of emotion was starting to fade. He was getting tired. Maybe if he took a rest...no! No, what could be happening to them while he rested?! And besides, he’d be easy prey for any predators out here if he slept. He staggered forward. The forest was practically pitch black, but he kept shouting, his voice growing hoarse, and hoping to hear a reply. 

The underbrush must be thicker here, because he kept tripping up. He fell down twice, but pulled himself to his feet and went onward. His hands were shaking...shivering. “S...Sta-asha. Quen...Quentnn…Ammbel,” he mumbled. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Where was he? Shouldn’t he...shouldn’t he have found some town by now? No, the forest went on for...for acres. He knew this. How could he forget...“Plea...pl’se...say y’r here...I...wher...?”

He couldn’t...couldn’t stop now. He needed to find them. Couldn’t...leave them. On their own. He kept pressing onward. It was getting so hard...he had to use the trees for support sometimes. Stop to take a break. But not to give up. “Can’...give up...St-stace...Quen...Am...ple-please...”

And once again, he stepped somewhere without support. But now he couldn’t even register it. He just knew he was falling, rolling down, down a hill. Coming to a stop when he hit...something. A tree? Those felt like...roots, beneath him. His arm moved a bit, trying to grab something to pull himself up. Fingers drifted across a bark-covered surface, but couldn’t...couldn’t grab. So his arm fell back down. Maybe...he should rest for just a few minutes.

But after just a few seconds of staying still, he heard a strange rustling sound. Raising his head weakly, he saw...a strange sight indeed. People. No, not quite people. Human bodies, dressed in dark clothes...but with white-feathered bird faces where heads should be. Four or five of them...Wait. No, not bird heads. Bird masks. Masks made out of some sort of white material. Hadn’t...hadn’t he heard something about masks recently?

The masked figures drew closer. Chase stared up at them. He was so...so tired. He wouldn’t be able to run even if the thought had managed to...to get through. 

One of them knelt down next to him, pulling off a glove. They pressed a pair of fingers to his neck, and he shivered. He wasn’t cold anymore. Or he was, but this bird person’s hands were colder.

They stood up again, and turned to the others. He heard the sound of voices, but his head couldn’t process the words. What were they...were they hear to...help? Or...?

He was too tired to think about it. He let his head fall back to the forest floor.

The last thing Chase felt before losing consciousness was the sudden lift of someone picking him up.