#wounds tw

[sinclairsolutions]

Turns out, Vlad being redeemed doesn't change how often he gets the shit beat out of him, it's just that now he's getting the shit beat out of him in the course of helping Danny rather than causing problems on purpose

...Though I'm sure he still causes plenty of problems, on purpose or otherwise

[thasorns]

Hey, Si-Eun, You’re sleeping like that. Huh. Yes. I’m so sleepy. You are really... You are a real weirdo. Do you know that? 

[sayruq]

[asiancentral]

- You have to pay 10% of the principle every week until you pay off the loan. Your mother took a loan of 50 million, so the fee alone if five million. But once you miss a payment, it doubles. The interest rate rises from 5% to 20%. These bastards wrote it in the fine print so people wouldn’t catch it. This is a scam. Your mother stood no chance. - What should I do? - Pay it back immediately. Your interest will go up to 100 million. Your house is collateral. - We don’t have the money.

BLOODHOUNDS 사냥개들 (2023) ⬖ "Episode 2" dir. Jason Kim

[andpierres]

divide & die 🐍🏳️‍⚧️

[sightkeeper]

When you're supposed to be retired but your old coworker collect calls from your partner's mirror March request for a patron who wanted a possible scenario for a "Please do not summon demons in the bathroom!" sign, so I chose to use Bloody Mary :)

[brimstone-cowboy]

Don't you know you're sleeping in the spotlight

[sephyathredon-writing]

Whumptober #3: Locked in these Chains

Summary: Ambrosius wakes up chained to the wall in an empty cell, only to find out he's not alone. Ballister is in the cell next to his and a mysterious woman soon pays him a visit, calling him a heretic and a traitor to Gloreth's name.

____

Ambrosius jolted awake, to find that his hands were chained to the wall behind him. His armor had been removed and he’d been left in just his underclothes. He felt so very vulnerable without it on.

His hair had grown out since the day that the Institution and the old way of thinking had been dismantled. It was down to the bottom of his shoulders in length now, but at this moment hung in front of his shoulders, messy and unkempt.

His surroundings were barren, nothing but stone with a barred gate on the far end of the room. Ambrosius tugged at his restraints, trying to get free. Last he remembered, Ballister had been with him. His mind went wild just imagining what they were doing to him.

“Ballister, you there?” His voice betrayed how scared he was not to get an answer.

“Ambrosius…” He had to strain to be able to hear Ballister’s voice, but it was there. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Are you hurt?”

“No… Just confused… Ambrosius, do you know where we are?”

Instinctively, he shook his head, then realized Ballister couldn’t see him do that, so he spoke up, “No. No clue… but judging by the way we’re chained up… well… this doesn’t seem good.”

“Yeah, no kidding… looks like we’ve been taken underground… I hope Nimona can find us…”

“Me too.”

There were a few moments of silence before Ballister spoke again, “Wait a minute. I recognize this place. Not this area in particular, but the architecture is familiar. These are the tunnels underneath the Glorodome…”

Ambrosius hated being reminded of that awful day where Ballister had been branded a monster and he’d chopped his arm off. Ballister had used those very same tunnels as an escape route. The thought of there being cells like these under the Glorodome sent a chill down his spine.

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Ambrosius asked. He had no idea who he was talking about when he said ‘they’ because he had no idea who had taken the two of them down here.

“I don’t-” Ballister’s words were cut off and Ambrosius could hear the noise of the door in his cell opening.

“Well, if it isn’t the heretic, traitor to Gloreth’s good name.” The voice was female, eerily like the director’s but different enough for him to know it wasn’t her.

“Nice to meet you too.” Ballister responded.

The fact that he still retained his sarcasm in the face of whoever had just entered his cell and called him a heretic was something that Ambrosius admired.

“Hmph.” Ambrosius heard the woman scoff, “We’ll see if you still have that same attitude by the time we’re done with you.”

Ambrosius didn’t know what they were going to do, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

“Wait, It’s me you want!” Ambrosius struggled against his restraints, “If anyone has tarnished Gloreth’s name, it’s me!”

“Ah, don’t you worry, I have plans for you. After all, you’re Gloreth’s Great Failure.”

“Hey! That’s not fair! I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to Gloreth’s standards!”

“And then you threw it all away. For what? For a boy?”

“I did what I knew was right!”

The figure didn’t respond to Ambrosius, instead addressing Ballister. “You must pay for what you did. You and your friend both, but since I don’t see her, you’ll have to take her share of the punishment,” she spoke, her voice void of emotion.

“I’ll gladly take her share if it meant she didn’t get hurt,” Ballister snapped.

The mysterious woman chuckled, “You may be singing a different tune here in a moment.”

“No!” Ambrosius yelled, wishing he could just break through the wall that separated him and Ballister. The shackles were starting to dig into his wrists with how hard he was trying to break free.

Ambrosius almost didn’t register the first of the screams from Ballister, and then when he did, his struggling increased twofold.

“You’ll pay for this!” he shouted, putting everything he had into trying to break free.

The woman ignored him once again and Ballister’s screams got louder.

Ambrosius felt like he was losing his mind. The love of his life was being tortured in the room next to him and he was powerless to stop it.

“Please! Take me instead! Take me instead!” he sobbed.

The chains that held Ambrosis down were fairly short, providing a very limited range of movement, but Ambrosius figured out that if he braced both feet against the wall and leaned his entire body weight forward so that it was all on the chains, the spot where they connected into the wall would start to come loose.

Ambrosius winced at another particularly loud scream. It cut through his heart like a knife, only motivating him further.

The connectors came loose and fell to the ground with a rattling noise. Ambrosius fell to his hands and knees, earning a few scrapes, but he didn’t care. He went straight to the wall that separated them and started to punch.

Cloaked figures came into the room, but Ambrosius kept them away by using the chains attached to his shackles as improvised whips in between punches. The connectors on the end were deadly and tore at the fabric of the figure’s cloaks a few times.

He could see the structural integrity of the wall deteriorate and he estimated one good, powerful punch would be the last thing needed to bring it down.

Unfortunately, as he pulled his fist back, the chain connected to the shackle on that wrist became taut. Someone else was pulling on it. The other one followed, and together two figures dragged him back to the wall. He kicked and screamed and struggled, but their grip was too strong.

“No! Nonono! Bal!” Ambrosius’ eyes were glued to the wall, tears welling up in his eyes. He was so close. He could have broken through the wall, grabbed Ballister, broken his chains, and got out of there.

He barely noticed a third cloaked figure enter the room, but he did notice what was in its hands. A hammer and another pair of shackles, this time with the chain shorter.

“Ambrosius!” He heard Ballister scream his name as they put the extra shackles on his legs and hammered the connector into the ground, “Ambrosius! It hurts! Make it stop!”

They then lifted Ambrosius up and hammered the connectors for his wrist shackles back where they’d been.

“Bal! I’m sorry, I tried!” Ambrosius called out to him. “I won’t stop trying until you’re away from there, till you’re safe, I promise!”

When the cloaked figures left, Ambrosius tested his restraints. There was no way he’d be able to do the same thing again.

____

Hours passed. Ambrosius was sure Ballister was going to die from everything they were doing to him. He struggled on and on endlessly, calling Ballister’s name, trying to find some way to break these chains and get to Ballister.

At some point, Ballister’s full blown screams petered out into soft sobs and cries, still containing Ambrosius’ name.

Ambrosius could swear he was actually losing his mind. Nothing else mattered to him but securing Ballister’s safety. Nothing else mattered except stopping this torture being inflicted on him. As he was struggling, he stared at the wall as if it would crumble under his gaze.

He hardly even registered when the whole place shook. Hardly even noticed a familiar voice in the cell next door.

He didn’t even notice when a familiar pink haired girl entered his cell, by breaking the door off its hinges.

“Yikes, you don’t look so good.”

It was true. Ambrosius’ hair was even messier than it had been before and there was a wild look in his eye. His posture gave away how exhausted he was, but he continued to tug on the chains.

He didn’t hear Nimona.

“Ballister… don’t worry… I’ll get you out of there…” he mumbled over and over.

“Hey, big guy, it’s over,” Nimona said as she reached a hand toward him.

In Ambrosius’ mind it was the hand of the woman that had been torturing Ballister.

He lashed out, biting Nimona’s wrist. She didn’t even flinch. Ambrosius locked eyes with her. His angry expression melted into sadness as more tears fell. He understood she could just shapeshift into something else, but she chose to let him bite her. He let go.

“See now, everything’s okay.” She made her other arm into a crab claw, “Just stay still, okay?”

Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip. He was free.

Ambrosius fell into Nimona who set him down gently on the floor.

“Where’s Ballister, How is Ballister?” he asked, his voice hoarse from all the shouting.

Nimona avoided his gaze, “He’s looking pretty rough.”

“But he’s still alive, right Nimona?” His panic showed in his voice as he spoke.

Before Nimona could answer, Ambrosius heard a voice from the other end of the cell.

“Ambrosius…” The voice was quiet and very hoarse, but he recognized it.

There, in the doorway, was Ballister. From his posture on the ground with his arms out in front of him and legs straight back, it was clear that he dragged himself to that spot. Ambrosius could see the extensive damage that had been done to him. He was shirtless, burns and cuts littered his body, more scars littered his face. It really looked like he’d been to hell and back.

“Ballister!”

Ambrosius willed his body to move. It seemed to have enough strength in it to get him across the room and to his love’s side. He scooped the man into his arms and held him close.

“Bal,” he sobbed, “Ballister, I’m sorry… I failed you… I couldn’t save you.”

Weakly, Ballister reached a hand up and placed it on his cheek, his expression loving despite the pain he was dealing with. “Shh, It’s okay. You did what you could.”

Nimona went to their side, looking at Ballister with a sad expression. “Boss, I told you not to move…”

Ballister gave her a pained smile, “I had to see Ambrosius.”

Nimona gave him a look of understanding. She stood up, moved outside of the cell and closed her eyes, beginning to grow.

“Get under me!” she shouted.

Ambrosius picked Ballister up and moved to duck under Nimona’s rapidly growing dragon form. She couldn’t fit in the space and the whole structure was coming down around them.

When she was fully shifted, she offered a paw to Ambrosius, holding it so they could sit on the pad.

As soon as Ambrosius was comfortable, Nimona pushed through the ceiling. Ambrosius held Ballister tightly, ready to protect him from any stray falling debris.

  He watched as they emerged from the Glorodome, lights still on in the dark, even though the building wasn’t being used anymore. Ballister’s prediction had been right. Whoever these people were, they’d made their hideout in the tunnels underneath.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at a hospital. Ambrosius was grateful for Nimona’s abilities at a time like this. Ballister was admitted quickly and Ambrosius was looked over, though his diagnosis was just to get some sleep.

So he was left in the waiting room with Nimona. It was only then that the impact of everything that happened fully hit him. He was shaking, leg bouncing nervously, fidgeting with his hands.

Nimona sat next to him. She looked equally concerned, but she placed a hand on his knee.

“Hey big guy, you know Ballister. You know he’ll make it through. He’s tough like that.”

Ambrosius didn’t answer her, didn’t trust himself to answer her without his voice wavering. He looked away, focusing on the opposite side of the room, but he wasn’t really looking at it, his head was too full of thoughts. In his mind he reviewed the situation over and over again.

He wondered what he could have done differently, how he could have saved his love from getting hurt.

He found that he remembered now, once everything was said and done, how they were brought down into those tunnels. They were ambushed in the middle of the Kingdom. Nimona had been off doing her own thing and they’d been on their way home. The sun had been setting and they’d just come back from a wonderful dinner date.

It happened so quickly. One moment Ballister had been laughing and joking next to him, his hand in Ambrosius’, the next, he’d been grabbed by a cloaked figure and knocked out.

When Ambrosius had tried to call for help, they’d knocked him out as well, interrupting his call mid sentence.

Ambrosius glanced over at Nimona, who had her legs pulled up to her chest, staring straight ahead. Unshed tears lingered on her eyelids.

He reached over and placed a hand gently on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him. He gave her a reassuring smile. It was the best thing he could offer in a time like this.

“It took hours for me to hear the news that you both had gone missing. I searched so hard, but I couldn’t find you guys…” She sniffled, the tears falling, “If I had been quicker, this would never have happened to Boss…” Her voice was stifled with emotion.

Right. He had almost forgotten how much Ballister meant to her. He was the first one that really gave her a chance, and now she might lose him.

Ambrosius bent down and enveloped her in a hug. She turned and sobbed into his shoulder, hands looping around his waist and holding him tightly. He brought his hands around her back holding her as tight as he could. When they pulled away, she smiled at him.

“Thanks, that really helped.”

“I’m glad. I just want you to know that you’re not alone in feeling like that. We can’t change the past, what’s done is done. In my experience it’s best not to dwell on the past.”

He needed to learn to take his own advice.

Nimona smiled, “Did the arm chopping incident teach you that?”

Ambrosius nodded.

Things went quiet between them, but Nimona turned into a cat and climbed into Ambrosius’ lap, allowing him to pet her and purring up a storm. Tears still fell, but that was to be expected given the situation. Ambrosius tried to make her feel as comfortable as he could and found that he didn’t dwell on his own sadness as much as a result.

It felt like ages before they were finally called by a doctor. The two of them were led down a hallway. Nimona changed from a cat to her little girl form, holding one hand up for Ambrosius to take. He did so, walking with her down the hall.

Soon they were led into a room with a bed that Ballister was laying on. He still looked in rough shape. There was an IV in his arm. Bandages covered his body and patches covered the new scars on his face. Still, he was clearly awake, and he smiled when he saw Ambrosius and Nimona.

“Boss!” Nimona called, running up to him and climbing onto the bed.

“Nimona, you’re in your child form.” Ballister reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Were you really that worried about me?”

She just nodded.

Ambrosius, however, turned to the doctor. “What’s the diagnosis?”

They looked down at their clipboard and then back up at Ambrosius.

“Looks like he’ll be fine with some rest. He lost a lot of blood, but a quick transfusion brought him back to safe levels. Many of the wounds he had required stitches, so he will need to be brought back in several weeks after the wounds have healed.”

Ambrosius breathed a sigh of relief, then looked over at Nimona and Ballister before addressing the doctor again. “Can we stay with him for the rest of the night?”

“I don’t see why not,” they replied. “Just be aware he will be woken up periodically to receive painkillers,” the doctor informed them before leaving. They turned off the lights on the way out, but there was enough light filtering through the window in the room that they could see.

He nodded and looked at Nimona who was already in cat form and making herself comfortable in Ballister’s lap.

He smiled and approached the bed. “Got room for one more?”

Without waiting for an answer, he climbed in beside Ballister on the opposite side of the bed than the one the IV was by.

Ambrosius slung one arm around Ballister gently and the other man responded by bringing his left hand up to rest on Ambrosius’ arm. In the condition that he was in, Ballister couldn’t turn his body to the side like Ambrosius was, but he could turn his head, so that’s what he did.

“I could have lost you today, Bal…” Ambrosius’ voice betrayed how upset he really was about it.

“I know, but you didn’t, that was the important thing,” he replied.

“Bal… I don’t know what I would do without you… I… I wish I could have been stronger… I wish I could have saved you. And what was with that woman? Why did she seem to revere Gloreth… she called me her failure and called you a heretic. Is there some kind of weird Gloreth cult we don’t know about… how long until it happens again?”

“Ambrosius.”

That was all Ballister had to say to keep his thoughts from spiraling. All at once, his thoughts stopped and all his attention was on Ballister.

“It’s okay. I’m here, I’m alive. If there’s something like that in the Kingdom then we’ll deal with it.” Ballister spoke in a soft voice.

“Yeah, besides we destroyed part of their hideout. And even if they do decide to make a move soon, I’m not letting my eyes off the two of you, at least not for a while.”

Ambrosius smiled. He knew Nimona had the best of intentions, especially after what happened today, but he could predict that it would get annoying really fast, especially when he wanted private time with Ballister. But he supposed he’d just have to deal with it. If they could knock the two of them out so easily, then it’d be nice for them to have someone like Nimona looking out for them.

“Sounds good. Now, I think we should go to sleep. It’s been an exhausting day and Bal needs his rest,” Ambrosius responded.

“Already on it,” Nimona replied, shifting a little to get comfortable.

“Sounds like a plan. There’s nowhere I’d rather sleep than next to my two favorite people in the world.” Ballister pet Nimona’s fur a little and then reached over to put a hand on Ambrosius’ shoulder before making himself comfortable and getting ready for sleep.

The night passed as quietly as it could with someone waking Ballister up for him to take meds. They took those moments to check in with each other, and most importantly Ballister before going back to sleep.

[juhotonin]

Binseong missing hours — 4 / ♾️

[kdramasource]

PARK EUN-BIN as Kyung Hee in THE WITCH: Part 2. THE OTHER ONE 마녀2 (2022) dir. Park Hoon-jung

[martuzzio]

I'm pretty sure the answer is "no"

[thasorns]

Can you guys keep it down? Please be considerate of Mr. Lue. You guys can be mushy at home. 

MARC PAHUN AS HIN & CHAAIM ALONGKORN AS PAYU IN CHAINS OF HEART (2023), dir. Term Rungradit Rungamonwanit

[heirbane]

4. Five times touched... 🐺🐇 :>

touched. / @daizure

Maybe he was trying to drown. The more he lost, the more glass bottles and thin, fluted glasses graced his lips, sweet and bitter, tolerable and horrid all at once. It helped him sleep. It helped his mind quiet, no longer as loud as the crashing waves against the cliff sides but more akin to the lull against shore, gentle and creeping until he couldn't remember what had plagued him.

Once, he would have thrown himself into his work. Once, Gaius would have donned weighted fatigues and pulled soldiers out of their platoons, running drills and sparring until his heart thrummed in his ears.

He was lost at sea now, without the capacity to run himself until oblivion as he once had. Now he simply had to wait to drown.

He reached out, intending to finish the last of the bottle, the firelight crackling with laughter ahead of him. How he had fallen, it chortled. He had hit the ground and continued unto hell.

When would it stop?

Smooth leather met his fingertips. Gaius felt himself flinch, an action pulled from the depths of his inebriated instincts, and turned his citrine gaze to the man who had crouched beside him.

For a moment, they stayed still. Arye scant looked his way, his smaller hand still gripping around the bottle with such might that Gaius believed he was simply laying claim. He let out a long exhale.

"As you wish."

Arye wrenched the bottle from him. In a swift movement, the man stood, and all at once Gaius watched as the bottle went flying. It collided with the firewood, glass shattering, and what remained of the spirits went up in flames, the fire grateful for the offering.

It continued to laugh, tendrils of heat reaching for the sky, begging for more. That was all it could do.

He wondered when Allie took up collecting.

The barracks of Garlemald's soldiers had always wanted for decor in a way that was intentional. Soldiers weren't to want, nor to have desires: they were to fight, and such things as trinkets and favored items were frowned upon. Humanity made them weak, Solus had believed.

It was a habit that carried into Terncliff, malms and malms from his home, years past being a proper soldier. His cottage was blank. He had bought the necessities and nothing more: his own bed had scarcely more than a single pillow and a single blanket, and, unconsciously, he had forced the same onto Allie.

But it seemed with each passing day that a Moogle graced his doorstep that the house became fuller. At first he had believed it to be his daughter's doings, visiting the market and buying trinkets with her own coin or combing the beach for shells and glass. Lidded jars sat in the windows, frosted seaglass positively glowing in the sunlight; sea shells of all sizes and variety appeared atop the fireplace mantle and on the washroom counter.

That was, until he appeared in a Moogle's place.

Gaius had scarcely felt as dumb in his life as he felt in that moment, fried eggs sizzling in the kitchen and his hair scarcely combed, when he opened his front door and peered down at a white-furred being that decidedly did not say "Kupo".

"Is Allie afoot?"

He paused. He looked over his shoulder, full knowing she wasn't, and spoke:

"No, she's - ... on a date. Brunch."

Arye had pushed past him, as if searching for the teen on his own. When Gaius' words sank in, however, his ears twitched, swiveling his attention to the Garlean.

"Oh."

The eggs sizzled, scorching in their pan. Gaius attempted,

"You could stay, and - "

"No."

He thrust out his armful. Gaius had been so preoccupied by his being that he didn't notice the overflowing blanket that had been carefully folded and held with care. Now, Arye seemed as if the item disgusted him, boots heavy on the stone flooring as he went to take his leave.

"For her. It was too heavy for the Moogles to take from Yanxia," he said curtly. "I'll - be back. When she's around."

Arye fled, the heavy wooden door slamming shut in his wake. Gaius stood, thumb stroking over the intricate weave in the karakul wool.

Huh. Mayhaps it hadn't entirely been Allie's doing...

"Get up. Get up, damn you."

The townfolk that had seen the Blasphemy had claimed it to sound human, that the wicked sound had put a pit in their stomach. As the world began to fall apart, they barely knew what to do with themselves. Once, Garlemald had helped build their seaside home, encouraging trade and advancements in farming. Once, Gaius had walked the stonework and looked for weak points to patch and mend.

He had been trustworthy once, the eldest of them remembered. And so they had come to the old wolf with a chance to redeem himself: not as a Garlean, and not as a Legatus, but as Gaius Baelsar.

He would not tell them no.

He wished he could have.

It was a Weapon. It was half-human and half-machine, sinew replaced with tubing. When it opened it's maw, lined with rotting, steel teeth, it was to jeer at them all. Gaius felt as if he had departed from his own body, his gunblade foreign in his hand.

It unleashed a sound that nigh echoed Valen's laughter, wet and poisonous and rancid.

Gaius didn't remember giving orders. He didn't remember being in his own skin, flooded with recollections of his children as their souls were torn from their aether, as they fused with the machina they piloted. It defied nature. It defied science.

Maybe he hadn't done a thing at all. All at once he was startled awake, gasping for air in a way that felt as if his lungs were on fire. Arye appeared above him, positively blocking out the sun and wearing it's rays as a halo against his locks. He heard Allie weeping not far away.

When had he gotten here? How had he the time to save the world and such a place as this? Had the rest of the realm begged him for assistance, too?

Arye's bare hand fisted the front of his armor. It had been the best the Werlytans could scrounge up, padded cotton and hemp, leather reinforcements for those who stood at the front line. He yanked, forcing Gaius into a seated position even as the world swam.

Allie stared at him. Arye cursed. He felt the man's palm against his back and under his ribs, the action ripping a sound from him that felt black and horrid.

Maybe he was getting to die here, he wondered. After it all. Maybe he would get peace after all.

He could breathe. They were small, shallow things, his subconscious more aware of his plight than he. It was dark and drizzling, the moon but a sliver in the sky as it peered through his window shyly.

He had not died. He had yet to feel relieved in that fact: Gaius simply felt old and haggard, beaten unto oblivion and drug back to the shores of the living. Maybe his age had finally caught up with his spirit.

He heard a wheezy sigh at his side, and then the throaty inhale of someone who had their nose broken too many times. He became aware of the sheer number of people asleep in the dark: the chair to his study had been brought in, as well as the rocking chair from the living room. He felt Allie's small hand in his own, even as she slept turned away from him, a pillow carefully dividing them - her attempt to keep from hurting him in her sleep.

Valdeaulin snored. His feet sagged the mattress where he slouched, his chair at the foot of the bed. When Gaius turned his head, he saw moon-white hair curling on his pillow. Arye had claimed the study chair, contorted in such a way that looked uncomfortable, his forehead on his arm and his hand outstretched in his direction. His fingertips just barely brushed Gaius' sleeping shirt.

He had not died. He felt old and exhausted, weary and threadbare, but his throat was thick and he found it harder to breathe than before. He squeezed Allie's hand, and slowly - uncertainly, unaware of the full extent of his wounds - placed his other beneath Arye's.

He brought their intertwined hands to his lips. The moon watched as he wept.

Gaius had learned far more about the Scions and their small spats than he ever believed he could. Had he been but half a decade younger, he wondered what this information would have done for him in Garlemald.

Perhaps not as much as he wished, he mused. The Lalafell's blackmail attempts aside, they were fairly moot points; the rogue and the celestial mage had not been intermingled until recently, so it would not have been useful then. The witch's shift in aethersight was a boon, despite it's challenges, and the dragoon's fondness for Thavnair was expected. That bit of information was one he already knew - they had crossed paths more than once after their excursion to Garlemald.

But the Warrior of Light was a storyteller, and he would not turn down the chance to hear Allie laugh... even if it meant his daughter telling stories of her own.

(He pretended he hadn't heard her mention kissing the girl she was dating, or that she had trailed off and laughed in a way that he hadn't ever heard, that both were lost under the popping of bacon and popotos.)

Arye appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. His mug was empty, and he gingerly put the tea bag in the trash. With a familiar ease, he dug into the cabinetry, fishing out cutlery and plates for all three of them.

"She hadn't told me she was that involved with her," Gaius grumbled. He heard the man snort, his hip colliding with the Garlean's thigh as they stood side-by-side.

"Maybe you'd know about her if you invited her for breakfast instead of just me," Arye spoke.

It was Gaius' turn to huff, defensive and dismissive all at once. He watched the rabbit's ears swivel, mischievous and coy, as he laid claim to two of the finished plates and disappeared back into to the table Allie sat at.

He was right. Somehow, he usually was. Gaius ran a hand over his face, picking up his plate in one hand and his walking cane in another, and made to join them both.

[nestwreckerrr]

casualty // FOLLOWED

[snailsnaps]

licking wounds

[gameboy-berry]

〚 Swan Song 〛