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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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The Great Elysian Bakeoff

Title: The Great Elysian Bakeoff Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 7,293 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day six - Anger/Humour (Thunder) Notes: because of today's prompts, i tried to make this a comedy fic. i hope you guys enjoy it!

Summary: Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.” Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”

Also on: AO3

“Ahhhh!”

Leaning back on his hands, Sorey lets out a satisfied sound, revelling in the feeling of a warm summer’s evening and a full stomach. The grassy fields of Lakehaven Heights sway in the breeze, and an expanse of colour opens above them as the sky slowly turns from blue into a soft pink hue, the beginnings of sunset appearing. The leftover scent of cake batter mingles with the smell of fresh grass. It makes him want another serving.

“That was delicious,” he says.

From the other side of the small campfire they’ve set up, Lailah smiles warmly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I last made chiffon cake, so it’s good to see it came out well.”

“It’s really good,” Mikleo chips in. He prods his own slice of cake with his fork as he speaks. “The texture, the flavour - I don’t think I’ve tasted better chiffon cake before.”

“Seriously,” Rose adds, “we should sell these along with Mikleo’s ice cream! We’d make a fortune.”

Lailah gives a soft laugh as Mikleo narrows his eyes at her. They’ve had this conversation before, back when Mikleo first made fruit parfaits for everyone after Rose and Dezel joined their party. Sorey remembers how long that argument had lasted, with Rose trying and failing to convince Mikleo to market his parfaits, and Mikleo insisting that she shouldn’t try to sell the food he put all of his feelings into making.

Well, as long as Sorey has the chance to eat it, he doesn’t really mind. Mikleo’s ice cream and Lailah’s cakes both are a wonder to behold.

Before they can argue about it again, Sorey decides to speak up. “Putting that aside, don’t you think everyone’s really starting to improve with their cooking?”

Mikleo scoffs. “Speak for yourself. When it came to sweet treats, you could only make piles of black stuff when we first left Elysia.”

Sorey frowns. “You say that like you’ve never messed up when cooking! I don’t know how you make a fake snack, but somehow you’ve managed it a few times, now.”

“That only happened a couple of times! Besides, I hardly make mistakes in cooking, especially compared to you.”

“When it comes to cool sweets, sure, but if we let you near a fire-”

“Just because you can cook meat doesn’t mean you have the delicacy needed for baking-”

“Maybe I do, and you just haven’t seen it-”

“Oh? Then I’d like to see you try-”

Sorey stands up. “Fine! It’s a match, then! Let’s see who can make the best cake.”

Mikleo also stands, meeting him eye to eye with his shoulders squared. “You’re on.”

It’s as they stand in silence, challenging each other, that they remember their companions.

Edna is the first to break the silence, tapping her umbrella against the grass. “So are we hosting a cooking competition now?”

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says. “We should market it and sell tickets!”

“No one would be able to see Mikleo,” Dezel says, finally speaking. “It would be pointless.”

“Then we’ll only invite seraphim!”

This strikes Sorey with an idea, and he turns to the others. “Actually, could we do this in Elysia? That way we’ll have our own kitchens to prepare the food in.”

“You want everyone in the village to see your grand failure?” Mikleo teases. “Fine by me. We’ve not been home in a while, anyway.”

Lailah claps her hands together. “It’s settled, then! Let’s gather the ingredients before we head to Elysia. That way everything will be ready for the final showdown.”

Even though it strikes Sorey as a tad ridiculous that their argument has spawned a full-on cooking competition, he can’t say he’s not looking forward to it. After all, there’s nothing like wiping the smug smile off of Mikleo’s face with an undeniable victory.

Thus, their most recent competition begins.

Needless to say, when Sorey and the others arrive in Elysia with their arms filled with bags of baking ingredients, they get a few stares of curiosity from the seraphim who come to greet them. Once they explain the situation to them, though, the seraphim become far more invested in this competition than Sorey expected them to be.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them make a cake in their lives,” he overhears Myrna saying to Lailah at one point. “It’ll be interesting to see how well they turn out!”

“My money’s on Mikleo,” Ed says, joining in with the conversation. “He’s always been better at cool sweets.”

When they catch Sorey listening, they only give him knowing smiles. He can’t find it in himself to really be annoyed with them, since they’re not wrong.

Despite the apparent low expectations, he is serious about this competition. Baked sweets are the one niche which neither of them have explored much in their cooking, but he’s sure he can make a delicious cake to impress even the stubborn Mikleo. Besides, there’s more of a chance of Mikleo burning it than of Sorey doing so. He already has a head start.

They take a couple of days in preparation to choose their ingredients and find the perfect recipes for their cakes, to save time on the day of their competition. In that time, Sorey and Mikleo barely see each other, less out of choice and more because the seraphim keep them busy, talking about their preparation and giving them tips and tricks. For the likes of Myrna and Medea, it makes sense, but for seraphim like Ed and Shiron, Sorey is sure they’re only getting involved because they have a bet going. He probably has Rose to thank for that.

Neither of them see each other until the night before their match. Sorey, unable to sleep, heads out into the night, making his way towards the cliff edge where he and Mikleo tended to relax at times like this, before they left Elysia. There’s already a head of white hair there, looking out onto the horizon.

Mikleo hears him coming. “You’re up late,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sorey says, sitting down beside him. “Same with you?”

“Yeah.”

A calm breeze brushes through their hair. It’s times like this when Sorey feels most nostalgic, sitting in his pyjamas with Mikleo, without needing to worry about the state of the world below. Even if this will only last a short amount of time, he can’t say he’s not grateful for the distraction.

“Are you worried I’m gonna kick your butt tomorrow?” Sorey teases, nudging Mikleo with his elbow.

Mikleo only smirks, meeting Sorey’s nudge with one of his own. “No way. We both know I’ll be taking the victory this time.”

They return to their relaxed positions. Though the temptation to start a tickle fight is all too real, Sorey only remembers how scared Mikleo had been that one time when they’d almost rolled off the edge of the cliff. Probably best not to relive that particular experience.

As Sorey reclines, his hand finds the edge of Mikleo's in the grass, and he leaves it there, their fingers barely brushing.

“Maybe I should start thinking of a forfeit for when you lose,” Sorey says.

“Or maybe you should start worrying about your own forfeit,” Mikleo replies. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

Sorey grins despite himself. It’s been too long since he and Mikleo have had this competitive banter, since they’ve been so busy purifying the malevolence and earning the spiritual powers. Even if he’s been lucky enough to have Mikleo at his side on this journey, this is something he’s missed, too.

“Don’t be too harsh, alright?” he says.

Mikleo presses his pinky finger against Sorey’s. “Don’t count on being given any mercy.”

They stay there a little longer, silent but enjoying each other’s company and the calm before the storm that is to come.

The next morning marks the day of their match.

They meet at dawn, with the wind blustering around them, wisping hair across their faces and their cloaks into the sky. A few feet apart, they stand at odds, eyes filled with determination. On each side behind them stand groups of seraphim (plus Rose), each having chosen which side to support. This way, everyone can watch whoever they’re supporting, since they’ll be using separate kitchens for the competition.

Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.”

Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”

Lailah, who is hosting the event, steps between them.

“Before we begin, I have an announcement to make,” she says, bringing both of their attentions to her.

“Huh? What is it?” Sorey asks.

Smiling with the air of someone who knows far more than them, she says, “We are implementing a surprise rule in your cooking challenge! As you both know, your task is to bake the perfect cake. However, last night, during dinner, we were talking to some of the residents of Elysia. They told us all about your childhood habits. It was really sweet.”

“Who would have guessed that Meebo had a rebellious streak a few years ago?” Edna’s mischievous smile makes Mikleo flinch in annoyance. “Rebelleo.”

“If this is in relation to when I ran away that one time-” Mikleo starts, but Lailah shushes him.

(Calling it a rebellion is a stretch, anyway. He’d hardly ran very far - only to spend the night in the Mt Mabinogio Ruins, after Gramps separated them into different houses. He’d gone alone, but Sorey found him an hour later, and spent the night with him until Mikleo finally caved, returning to Gramps to apologise for his behaviour. That doesn’t mean he didn’t break the rules a couple of times, but never so much as when they first met Alisha, when everything first began.)

“One of the stories they told us was about how you read a book one day about human customs,” Lailah continues. “It talked about birthdays.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Sorey says, turning to Mikleo. “You seemed down about the fact that I didn’t get to celebrate like other humans, and I felt sad because the seraphim didn’t seem to do it either.”

Mikleo nods. “Yeah. We gave everyone their own birthday, after finding out that they didn’t already have them.”

“And we always shared ours,” Sorey says. “You were so grumpy about that at first, but I thought it made sense.”

Lailah, looking pleased with their reactions, says, “Yes, that is what they told us about. And apparently, a certain seraph’s birthday is coming up.”

For a moment, Sorey and Mikleo freeze, racking their brains for the knowledge of whose birthday was coming up next. It’s difficult now that they’ve been gone for a while, since time passes by so quickly in the process of purification. Once the realisation strikes them, however, their faces move into identical expressions of mixed shock and horror.

“Gramps!”

Gramps’ birthday is always in the middle of summer, during the hottest period of the year. It’s the only time when the clouds beneath Elysia’s mountain seem to grow dark, and Gramps lights up the night sky with fascinating electric storms to clear the muggy heat. In the warmth of summer, they’d get everyone together to prepare a feast, filled with grilled meat and cool sweets and fresh fruit juice. Everyone would laugh and sing and celebrate together, and it was the one time of year where Gramps managed to be less strict towards the boys, ruffling their hair and going along with their antics, if only for a day.

A pang of guilt rushes through Sorey for having forgotten. It’s one thing to forget a friend’s birthday, but to forget the birthday of the one who raised him…

“We thought it would be good for you to try to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus,” Lailah says. “Can you do it?”

Sorey exchanges a look with Mikleo, both apprehensive but willing to try. After all, they’d love nothing more than to make Gramps happy. If they can be here to celebrate his birthday, even after having left for the world of humans, they might as well throw in every effort to make it special.

“Of course we can,” Mikleo answers for them both.

Lailah smiles. “Alright. Your challenge is to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus. You’ll be judged on flavour, texture, and appearance. And of course, you’ll only have so much time to do it, too.”

“We’ll be holding the birthday feast at sundown,” Kyme says from where he stands in the crowd. “That way most of us can prepare for it, whilst the others watch your competition.”

It’s nerve-wracking, to hear the stakes put so plainly. Sorey gulps.

“Now,” Lailah says, raising a hand. “Let the Great Elysian Bakeoff begin!”

The heat in the kitchen is stifling, and Sorry hasn’t even lit the fire yet.

He doesn’t know what to attribute it to: the summer sun, the pressure of competition, or the sheer amount of bodies lazing around his house, watching his process.

Okay, to be fair, there are only about ten seraphim in the house, but his house was only ever built for half that, at most. He didn’t even know his bed had the capacity to fit five people sitting in various positions. And yet, any time he glances over his shoulder at them, he’s proven wrong.

At least he doesn’t have to wait for the butter to reach room temperature.

He measures out a rough pound of butter on an old set of scales before transferring it to a bowl, along with a pound of sugar and flour. He cracks the eggs in a separate bowl, beating them before pouring some of the liquid into the batter. Then, he gets to mixing the ingredients.

Though Sorey likes baking well enough, he’s never been fond of the technicalities of it. Being bound to a recipe feels a little restrictive, so he’s always liked experimenting with his dishes. That’s probably why he ends up making black stuff all the time, though. In any case, it’s because of this that he ends up throwing in a teaspoon of lemon juice, once he’s mixed the rest of the ingredients together. He also adds some extra sugar, just to balance it out. It’s not so adventurous that it should ruin the cake for Gramps, but it gives him some freedom as well.

As he mixes the ingredients, Edna pops up at his side, watching him sceptically. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Sorey tells her, keeping his eyes on the bowl even as he smiles in response. “Its been a while since Mikleo and I have had a competition like this. I’m enjoying it!”

“Even when it’s something as tedious as cake-making?”

Sorey shrugs. “I suggested it in the first place. Anyway, you talk as if you’re not interested in how it ends up.”

Edna turns away, tapping her umbrella on the floor. “I just need to make sure I didn’t waste my money, that’s all.”

“Wait, did you bet on me to win?!” Both the idea of Edna gambling over something like this, and the nature of who she put her money on, surprises him more than anything.

“I sure did,” she says, looking over to him again. “Meebo will probably burn everything. Faileo.”

Sorey laughs nervously. He supposes when it comes to elemental stereotypes, Mikleo has always been much better with cool sweets. Then again, there have been a couple of instances in their journey that he’s managed to make a perfect cake. He doesn’t point that out to Edna, though.

“I’ll try my best to win, then,” he says instead.

“You’d better,” Edna says, gripping the handle of her umbrella with a little more force.

He tries not to think about how painful the point of that umbrella will be between his ribs if he messes this up.

In his own house, Mikleo moves with the same cool composure with which he faces everything, save perhaps for Edna’s teasing. He sweeps ingredients into the bowl in perfect measures, mixing them with the kind of arm strength which might surprise those watching him if they hadn’t seen the force with which he uses his staff in battle. Everything comes together in a smooth, rich batter, flavoured with a touch of matcha, giving it the green tea flavour he and Gramps have always been so fond of. Maybe it’s a dirty trick, but that's just the nature of the secret challenge they’ve been issued.

His house is smaller than Sorey's due to having been built later, and for the use of someone who rarely slept there, but it comfortably fits the group of people watching him. Then again, some of them are outside, taking in the sunshine, whilst those in his house have been instructed to stay away from the kitchen area whilst he’s baking. That’s probably why it feels spacious right now.

(He just hopes the others aren’t looking through his belongings. He’s picked up an embarrassing number of new books on this journey, some of which have nothing to do with history, and he doesn’t want to be the butt of any further jokes.)

Carefully, he pours the mixed batter into a rectangular cake pan. The slight green hue will die down during the baking process, so he tries not to worry about how unsatisfying it looks in the pan. Once that’s ready, he pops it into the wood-burning stove and relaxes.

That’s the hard part done with. Now, all he has to do is catch up with his dishes and make the glaze and decorations. It can’t be a birthday cake without looking special, after all.

As he’s washing the dishes, Rose comes over, sniffing the air with a hungry expression.

“Something smells good!” she says.

“Lets hope it tastes good too,” Mikleo replies. He uses an arte to evaporate the water dripping from the bowl in his hand, then returns it to its proper place in the cupboard.

“I’m sure it will, everything you make tastes amazing!” Rose’s expression becomes serious, and she lowers her voice. “Besides, I have a 1,000 gald bet riding on you winning this thing, so it’d better taste like the best cake on the planet.”

Mikleo gives her an exasperated expression. “I appreciate your support, but isn’t 1,000 gald a bit of a high bet?”

Rose shrugs. “That’s what Edna bet on Sorey, so I had to match her. The other seraphim here aren’t high rolling gamblers, you see.”

He doesn’t point out how all of their collective money ends up being spent on equipment fusion and food for all of them, no matter how much he wants to. She probably wouldn’t care that her bet means nothing when her money and Edna’s money are already essentially the same thing.

“Well, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t go broke because of Edna, then.”

As he finishes the dishes and moves onto the glaze, Rose stays with him in the kitchen. For the most part, she keeps trying to convince him to sell his sweets, to which his answer is a consistent “No.” He’s beginning to tell her to leave when he smells something strange and pauses, halfway between a word.

“Do you smell that?” he asks.

Rose sniffs the air, grimacing. “It smells like after Lailah did that crucible of malevolence thingy.”

Turning around, Mikleo blanches.

“Oh no.”

Sorey pulls his cake out of the stove, using a towel to carry it over to the nearest clear surface. From what he can see, the cake looks beautiful. It’s perfectly browned, and already tested with a skewer to make sure it’s cooked through. He can’t wait to taste it.

Of course, he won’t be able to do that until after the competition. For now, he sets it aside to cool, with Edna watching beside him. She hasn’t moved since their earlier conversation, keeping Sorey amused with dry commentary and snarky remarks about Mikleo. It’s been nice, to have her company. It isn’t often that they get to hang out as just the two of them, after all.

“You left your stuff all over the counter,” Edna points out, not moving from her perch on one of the counters to help him.

“Oh, yeah.” Sorey moves over to start clearing away his used ingredients. Since he’s already made the glaze which will go over the cake, he doesn’t have much else to do. He moves to pick up the large bag of sugar, making sure to close it properly so it doesn’t go all over the place.

When he turns to face Edna, however, her face morphs into one of surprise, then quickly to amusement.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Humans sure are unobservant,” she says, a cryptic response to his question. She twirls her umbrella around idly.

Still, since she said it right after he picked up the sugar, Sorey can’t help the bad feeling which crawls up his spine.

He puts the sugar back down on the counter, surveying the bag. It’s only when he turns it around, however, that he notices the word neatly printed across the material: SALT.

Sorey freezes.

“Oh no.”

Out of the stove where Mikleo’s cake bakes comes a puff of black smoke, slowly gathering on his ceiling. He lets out a strangled cry, throwing his hands out to cast a water arte on the stove. It’s only once the fire is out that he realises his mistake.

With a pair of well-worn oven gloves, he pulls his charred, soaking cake out of the stove.

Rose watches on with an expression half pitiful, and half stifling laughter.

A couple of seraphim appear at the door, wearing concerned expressions, but they back away with good humoured smiles when they see Mikleo's agitation.

“This is because you distracted me!” Mikleo snaps when Rose's laughter becomes full blown. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

“You could always decorate it and try to make it look nice,” Rose says, her laugh lingering as she eyes the mess that was once Mikleo’s cake. “Probably won’t mask the taste, though.”

Mikleo puts the cake pan down on a nearby surface, glaring at it as though it’s the cake’s fault for burning to death. In his head, he runs through his options.

The cake is burnt through, not to mention sopping wet. Even if he extracted the water using his artes, it might remove some of the moisture from the cake, making it not only burnt but dry as a rock. It might even fall to pieces like ash as soon as he tries to remove it from the pan. There's no way he’s going to serve this to Gramps.

And yet, he only has enough ingredients left for a cake half the size of this one. He wouldn’t want to ask the other seraphim to borrow their ingredients, either – that would feel like even more of a loss.

But he doesn’t have any other options. If he wants to win this competition, he can’t give up now.

What is he supposed to do?

The front door creaks open, and Lailah pops her head through the gap, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene in front of her. “Oh dear, what happened here?”

“The competition heated up too quickly,” Rose jokes, still grinning.

Mikleo turns his gaze to the ground, listening as Lailah lets out an understanding “oh” and moves into the house, closing the door behind her. She heads over to where he stands and looks at the cake.

“It’s not too bad!” she says, wearing the falsest smile he’s ever seen from her. “It could be a new invention!”

“The cake is ruined, Lailah,” Mikleo points out, looking at her with a deadpan expression. “I don’t have enough to make another one unless it’s half the size.”

(In the background, Rose’s face falls, and she pulls out her coin purse, swearing under her breath.)

Lailah bites her lip, looking down at the ground. After a long moment, she looks up again.

“Why don’t you take a little break?” she asks. “Some fresh air might be good for your head. Maybe you’ll think of a new solution when you’re not stuck in such a hot kitchen.”

Though he very much doubts this feels too hot to Lailah - she didn’t even break a sweat during the fire trial, after all, and that was in a volcano - he has to agree. As a water seraph, his heat resistance has always been weak. Maybe the air will help.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll take a break. But only for five minutes.”

“Of course,” Lailah says, holding the door open for him. “Let’s go, then!”

They head out of Mikleo's house. Once the mountain breeze hits his skin, he understands what Lailah meant; he takes a deep breath, and a wave of relief washes over him.

It might not be enough to really make him forget the situation, but it calms him nonetheless.

“It’s surprisingly lively, today,” Lailah says, her gaze falling on the seraphim setting up the decorations around the village. A couple of rocks make for tables which already hold the beginnings of a feast, plates of foods covered by cloths and a space especially for the main attraction – the cake.

Mikleo hopes Sorey's cake has gone better than his own.

A moment later, he scolds himself for thinking such things – he needs to stay determined, or else he’ll never have a chance of winning this competition.

Perhaps Lailah notices his frown, because she does not wait for him to respond before speaking again.

“Have your celebrations always been like this?”

Keeping his gaze on the blue skies, he hums. “At first, they were smaller, I think. We didn’t have as much experience in throwing parties. Over time, of course, this has become normal. I think everyone is putting in more effort because you guys are here, this time.”

He remembers the first birthday celebration they threw for Gramps. Incidentally, it had been the first birthday party they’d ever thrown for anyone, after their own shared birthday which had been organised as a surprise for them. All they’d had was a cake baked by Lawrence and a couple of flowers to give him as gifts. Gramps seemed to enjoy it regardless. He even let them off lightly on having picked the flowers from Cynthia’s garden without permission.

“It’s a lovely thing, to be able to celebrate the lives of those you care about.” Lailah says. “They must all truly enjoy this.”

“I think they do,” Mikleo agrees.

Walking once more, they take a quick stroll along the edge of the cliff, past the gate and back up the village summit. This way, they find themselves on track to Sorey’s house. Mikleo can only imagine the lively atmosphere inside of there.

“Would you like to visit him?” Lailah asks when she follows his gaze. “We can see how he’s doing.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating? I’d be spying on my competitor,” Mikleo points out.

“Nonsense,” Lailah says. “It’s not spying if you’re just visiting.”

Though Mikleo isn’t sure how credible her excuse is, he goes along with her anyway.

When they open the door, a wave of heat smacks Mikleo in the face. For a moment, he wonders if Sorey forgot about his cake completely.

Only it seems that’s just the natural heat of a kitchen in the summer. Sorey’s cake sits on the counter on a plate, undecorated with a slice already cut off, though it lies unfinished beside the cake, like a broken limb. For a brief second he sees Sorey with his head in his hands, though he looks up upon hearing the door close.

“Mikleo, Lailah!” he says in greeting. He moves to stand in front of where his cake lies, blocking it from view. “What are you guys doing here?”

The wavering tone of his voice and the nervous, maybe even guilty smile on his lips are enough to tell Mikleo that something must have happened.

“Mikleo had some time to spare, so we thought we’d come to see how you’re doing!” Lailah says.

“Oh, right.” Sorey looks both taken aback and worried about her words. Almost like he doesn’t think he’ll have enough time to finish if Mikleo is already done.

Walking over to Sorey, Mikleo peers around him at the cake. Or at least, he tries to - Sorey shifts at the last second, frowning at him.

“Hey, no cheating,” Sorey says.

“I’m not cheating,” Mikleo replies. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

Sorey’s face pales. “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong-”

“Show me the cake.”

At first, Sorey stands his ground. Still, there’s nothing more corrosive than one of Mikleo’s glares, and he shifts, letting Mikleo past to look at the cake.

In all aspects, it looks innocent enough. In fact, Mikleo thinks this might be the best-looking cake he’s seen Sorey make. The outside is perfectly browned, and the cake itself looks light and fluffy. The only indication that something might be wrong, other than Sorey’s behaviour, is the lack of decoration and the broken off piece.

He turns his eyes to the counter, scanning for any evidence of something having gone wrong. All he sees is Edna on one of the other counters, twirling her umbrella and watching on with a smirk. Beside her sits a large bag of-

Oh.

Mikleo turns his gaze back to Sorey. “You used salt instead of sugar, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Sorey says, keeping his gaze away with a pout. A moment later he crumbles, letting his head fall. “Okay, yeah, I did. It’s an easy mistake to make though - the containers look exactly the same!”

“Yeah, except one says ‘salt’ in huge lettering.”

Lailah takes this moment to chip into the discussion. “Perhaps now wouldn’t be the best time to throw salt into a fresh wound, Mikleo.”

“It’d hurt just as much if you mistook it for sugar,” Edna adds from her perch.

Even though part of him feels victorious since he’s not the only one who messed up his cake, the rest of him feels bad for Sorey. They’d both been looking forward to this competition since it was proposed, and now everything has gone up in flames.

“Guys,” Sorey says mournfully. “I think I’ve lost this one. I don’t have enough ingredients for another cake this size - well, except for the sugar.”

“Neither do I,” Mikleo says. When Sorey gives him a questioning glance, he explains. “I accidentally left my cake in the stove too long, and when it caught fire, I doused it with my water artes.”

Sorey grimaces. “Charred and soaking cake? That sucks.”

“Oh, good,” Edna says. “I thought I’d lost my bet, but it looks like Meebo really did come through. Burntleo.”

“Knock it off,” Mikleo complains.

“This sucks,” Sorey says. “Now Gramps won’t have a birthday cake at all.”

For some reason, this hadn’t occurred to Mikleo before. Hearing it now gives him pause, and he feels his heart sink. “You’re right. What are we going to do? We don’t have enough time to get more ingredients; it would take a day just to get to the nearest human settlement, and they might not even have what we need.”

“We could make two smaller cakes, but that just seems…” Sorey trails off. His eyes light up a moment later. “Oh! I have an idea!”

“What is it?”

Sorey grins at Mikleo. “The competition is a bust - we’ve pretty much figured out how good we are at making cakes. You’re good at creativity and making the mixture, but you forget about the timing.”

“And you’re good with timing but you’re careless with the ingredients,” Mikleo adds. “But how will this solve anything?”

“Why don’t we just make a cake together?”

When the words come out of Sorey’s mouth, the answer seems obvious. They’ve both got half the ingredients they need. It would be easy enough to combine their resources and work together. And with Sorey being a Shepherd now, they even have a way of doing it so they won’t get in each other’s way.

Mikleo hates to say it, but it’s the perfect plan.

“Alright,” Mikleo says. “Let’s do it.”

“Does this mean the betting’s off?” Edna says to Lailah, her expression less annoyed than it should be for having just lost 1,000 gald. “Lame.”

“But everything has turned out in such an interesting way,” Lailah says, watching the boys with a smile. “Won’t it be fun to see where this goes?”

Edna shrugs. “I suppose.”

Bumping their wrists together, Sorey and Mikleo grin at each other before speaking in unison.

“Luzrov Rulay!”

They move around the kitchen like a river, flowing naturally between work stations. They measure out each ingredient in perfect quantities (with Mikleo making sure they definitely use sugar instead of salt, this time) and add them all into a large mixing bowl. Using their combined strength, they mix the ingredients, slowing moulding it into the perfect batter.

From the bedroom, their companions and a few of the Elysian seraphim watch on, amazed by this new method of making cake together.

“I don’t think this is what the armatus was created for,” Dezel grumps. He’s been in this kind of mood since Rose dragged him over to watch, making him stop being a loner and standing out on the cliff edge, as he’d been doing earlier.

“Maybe not, but somehow they’re actually doing it,” Rose says. “Besides, what do you expect from those two? They’re not exactly conventional folks.”

“They've always been like this,” Myrna says from where she sits nearby. “Even if they’re competing or bickering, if it means someone else will be made unhappy, they always resolve their differences and find a solution quickly. Even if their methods can be unconventional.”

Kyme laughs. “That’s right. They once argued over who should do which chores, and when I told them Gramps would be upset if they kept arguing and got nothing done, they started doing every chore together. They only ended up doing half of what needed to be done, but it stopped them from arguing.”

“In the end, their arguments made them unhappy more than anyone.”

Though the discussion is a serious one, and those watching Sorey and Mikleo can see the importance of this information pertaining to their friendship, it’s difficult to take them seriously when they’re wearing a pale blue apron over their armatus form clothing. At least it matches, in terms of colour, anyway.

With the batter mixed, the boys pour it into their baking tin. They share a sense of satisfaction when they put the cake into the stove, hopeful that this time, everything will turn out better than ever.

Despite expectations, they do not release the armatization just yet. They move on to do the dishes, using their shared artes to wash them, then evaporating the water just as easily afterward. By the time they put them away, the scent of a beautifully baked cake fills the kitchen. Putting on Sorey's oven gloves, they pull it out of the oven.

“It looks perfect,” Sorey says. “Let's test it with a skewer, though.”

The skewer comes out clean. Now, they put the cake aside to cool before getting to work on their topping. This time, the cake is a simple vanilla flavour, since they both ran out of their previous flavourings of choice. For the decoration, they whip up a vanilla buttercream icing to decorate it with, along with some summer berries they brought with them from Ladylake, where they bought their supplies.

(Actually, the strawberries came from a little farm on the way to Elysia. They’d all been surprised to see that some farmers had managed to keep their produce alive even in this Age of Chaos, and were wary that the farmer might be reluctant to part with any. On the contrary, he'd been glad to be of service to the Shepherd. Sorey made sure to pay him for the fruits, despite his insisting that he could have them for free.)

Primarily, Mikleo takes charge of the decorating. His stylistic sense has always been more composed than Sorey's, something which they used to argue over, though Sorey will now readily admit. Even if Mikleo makes cakes look beautiful, Sorey is faster at decorating them, or creating any artistic endeavour.

In the end, it’s no surprise that the cake looks amazing. They pick up the plate they transferred it onto before decorating it, then turn to their guests.

“It's done,” they say in unison.

Their small audience come closer, crowding around them to get a better look at the cake.

“It smells amazing,” Myrna says.

“The arrangement is beautiful,” Kyme says.

“You’ve done a marvellous job,” Lailah says. She looks just as proud as the Elysian seraphim, despite only having known the boys for a short time in comparison.

Edna pokes their side with her umbrella, though far more gently than she usually would. “Don’t just stand there, dummies. Take it outside.”

The front door of Sorey’s house opens, seemingly of its own accord, and they turn to see Dezel looking away, his frown softer than usual. They don’t thank him aloud, knowing that he’ll just say it wasn’t him, but they both felt the gentle breeze which passed them on the way to the door. There are no other wind seraphim in the house at the moment, besides. Instead, they shoot him a grateful expression before heading out the front door, their small entourage following them all the way.

It’s a short walk to where the feast has already been laid out, each dish covered to preserve its taste. In the centre of the table stands a cake stand, ready to hold Sorey and Mikleo’s prized creation. Very carefully, they place the cake onto the stand, the centrepiece to what looks to be a promising celebration.

“I’ll go get Gramps,” Kyme says before heading in the direction of the eldest seraph’s home.

In the meantime, Sorey and Mikleo finally release the armatization, now two separate entities once more. Sorey is the first to raise his arm for a wrist bump which Mikleo instinctively returns.

“Nice job, Mikleo,” Sorey says, grinning. “We actually made it.”

“I have to say, you did a good job on the cake itself,” Mikleo says. “The timing was perfect.”

“You’re the one who made it look amazing, though! If we’d still been competing, this would have to be your win.”

Mikleo frowns. “No, it would be yours. I still burned my own cake. Even if it looked good in the end, it wouldn’t taste good. Isn’t the point of food the quality of taste, not appearance?”

Sorey’s eyebrows furrow. “Maybe, but I’ve seen you make cake before, and they’ve turned out well enough. Even if my cakes taste good, they’re boring compared to yours.”

“I’m trying to give you your victory,” Mikleo says, his voice heating up a little in agitation. “Stop being humble!”

“I’m not going to accept a victory like that,” Sorey replies, also getting into the argument. “If we’re still having this argument, we’ll need to have another competition, with fairer conditions.”

“The conditions here were fair enough!”

“Maybe if we had less distractions-”

“We’re not having another competition over this, Sorey-”

“But how are we supposed to pick a winner if-”

A loud crack of thunder interrupts their argument.

Faces suddenly pale, they slowly turn to see Gramps a few feet away, with Kyme not far behind. His expression is unreadable, even to the boys who have learnt to search for the expression behind those thick eyebrows over their time of knowing them. They’re both inclined to think he must be angry, though.

The silence, perhaps, is the worst part. When Gramps doesn’t say anything for a long moment, they both brace themselves for the oncoming lecture they’re bound to receive. For what reason they’d be getting a lecture, neither could truly say, but they’ve probably done quite a few things that would make Gramps annoyed since they left Elysia.

Still, it’s not like this is their first time back since leaving. Gramps already knows that Sorey is the Shepherd now, and Mikleo a Sub Lord. They’ve already had the lecture for that, too.

Oh no. Did Gramps not want cake this year after all?!

“H-hi Gramps,” Sorey says, trying to smile through his teeth. “We’re back.”

When Gramps speak, his voice seems louder than the thunder he’d summoned.

“Arguing when in the presence of guests? Those aren’t the manners I raised you to have, are they?”

Sorey and Mikleo flinch. So it had been about their argument, after all. Quietly, they chorus an apology, hanging their heads.

“And what’s this I hear about misusing the Shepherd’s power for trivial matters?” Gramps says.

At this, Sorey raises his head. “It’s not trivial, Gramps!”

Mikleo also speaks up. “We just wanted to make the perfect cake, and this seemed like the easiest way of doing it.”

“Just because an idea is simple doesn’t mean it’s good,” Gramps points out. After a pause, he wears a small smile. “Besides, there’s no need to go to all that trouble for my sake.”

The boys hesitate only for a moment before rushing over to where he stands. They group together in a three-way hug, one which was far easier to manage when they were all the same height, close to ten years ago. Now Sorey and Mikleo have to almost kneel down to hug Gramps properly.

Still, it’s worth it. Gramps pats their heads in a caring nature, too used to their behaviour to truly be upset.

“Happy birthday, Gramps,” Sorey says into his shoulder, more emotional than he expected to be at this moment.

Mikleo repeats those words into his other shoulder, just as emotional.

Try as he might to be stern, Gramps still smiles as he responds. “Thank you, Sorey, Mikleo. Now, I hear you’ve made the perfect cake?”

They separate, smiles brightening even in the darkening evening, and their celebration begins.

“So who won the bet?”

Rose grimaces at Sorey’s words. “Did you have to bring that up?”

They’re all in Sorey’s house, late after the celebration has ended. Sorey and Mikleo sit on the floor near the fireplace, graciously allowing the girls to share the bed whilst Dezel lingers in a corner. It’s a cozy setting, one made warmer by their full stomachs and fond memories of the evening.

“Well, they both failed,” Edna says from where she lounges on the bed. “Shouldn’t we get our money back?”

“Actually, the bet’s still on,” a quiet voice says from the corner.

Everyone’s eyes shoot to Dezel, surprised at his contribution and even more surprised by the tiny smile on his face.

“Wait, you made a bet, Dezel?” Lailah asks. “Who did you bet on?”

“I bet that they’d both lose,” Dezel says, holding out a hand. “1,000 gald. Pay up.”

Sorey and Mikleo watch in shock and a little bit of offence as Rose and Edna give him the money they owe, both grumbling under their breaths as they do so.

Well, not every competition ends up as expected, but it’s the having fun that matters most. And Sorey can’t say he didn’t have a lot of fun, today.

He grins over at Mikleo. “Let’s make food like this together again, alright?”

Mikleo smiles with fond amusement. “Just so long as we don’t make a competition out of it again.”

They sit back together, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the day - and their cooking competition - comes to a close.

#sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #okay i loved writing this #i tried to be funny can you tell #as a sidenote #i think i'm gonna take a break from posting fics after sormikweek ends #as i've been editing these i've noticed a lot of things i need to improve on #and i want to learn more and become a better writer and editor before i put more of my work into the world #i think mostly it's because i wrote these all quickly #i was trying to get them all done in a rush and it made them weaker as a result #i'm trying to find my drive again and hopefully when i find it i'll be able to improve my writing too

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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Illusory Veil

Title: Illusory Veil Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,921 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day five - Envy/Pride (Fog) Notes: as soon as i saw the prompts, the first thing i thought of was little miss misty. hence, a fic where she doesn't just make them fight clones of themselves. enjoy!

Summary: “So you say.” Mikleo summoned his staff, moving into a battle stance. “Care to prove your dedication, Shepherd?”

Also on: AO3

Maybe Sorey should have been more cautious.

To be fair, he’d been hesitant. As he and his companions walked through the depths of the Mount Mabinogio Ruins, venturing into each new room with a lingering sense of dread, the malevolence slowly coursing into their veins, they all knew something was bound to happen. There’s no way Heldalf or his followers would allow them to enter Camlann without trouble.

When they found a room which was locked to everyone but Sorey, he hadn’t seen another option. There was no other way forward.

“Don’t worry,” he said to his friends. They listened to his words, though they still looked hesitant. Even Edna had her umbrella down, shoulders hunched as she gave him a hard stare. “It’s just like with the crucibles, right? I’ll break through it, don’t worry.”

A soft punch to his shoulder grabbed his attention, and he turned to see Mikleo. His violet eyes were downcast, though they met his a moment later, filled with determination.

“You’d better come back,” Mikleo said.

Sorey let an easy smile cross his lips. “I will, I promise.”

After taking one last deep breath, Sorey headed through the doorway, passing the invisible barrier which kept the others from entering. The door closed behind him, cloaking his surroundings in darkness.

He was alone.

All he sensed was the familiar damp mustiness of an age-old ruin, combined with the nausea of growing malevolence. The scent of the moss and nature clashed against the stench of despair. He felt a little sick as the happy memories of his past mixed together with the chaos of the present.

He made his way through the corridor into a larger chamber, where the torches on the walls lit up the moment he stepped into the room. A low fog drifted over the ground, barely visible, clinging to his boots. Letting his hand hover over the hilt of his sword, he waited for something to come out from the darkness at the other end of the chamber, keeping his eyes fixed on that wall.

A voice spoke from behind him.

“Sorey.”

He froze. That voice was one he’d known all his life, one he’d heard only minutes ago, had left behind a door, safe in the company of the rest of their friends. There was no way he could be here.

And yet, when Sorey turned around, he saw Mikleo standing at the doorway, his face painted with concern, brows brought low over his eyes.

“We need to talk,” said Mikleo, his voice wobbling.

Sorey frowned. “Talk? Is now really the best time?”

“I asked the others to do this so we’d have a minute alone,” Mikleo said. “We should be safe here. So please, listen.”

Something made Sorey’s stomach twist at Mikleo’s tone. It didn’t make sense, that Mikleo would tell him to stay safe before he entered the room if he already knew it would be safe. Besides, there’s no way Mikleo would pick a time like this to have a conversation with him.

This had to be fake.

“Cut it out, Symonne,” Sorey said, sensing that this must be the cause. “I don’t have time for your games.”

Mikleo’s face crumpled in hurt, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t even recognise me enough to talk, even when it’s important. No wonder you didn’t want me to be your sub lord.”

“What? No, we’ve been over this, I- Symonne!”

“Well, you know what?” Mikleo said. His voice turned to a bitter tone, and he met Sorey’s eyes with a glare the likes of which Sorey had never seen Mikleo point at anyone. “I never thought you made a good Shepherd anyway. Always too idealistic, too naive. Why was it you, in the end? Why not someone who actually stood a chance of saving the world?”

Sorey’s throat constricted, but he swallowed his emotions. As much as it hurt to hear these words in Mikleo’s voice, it was clear this wasn’t him. “I’m doing what good I can for the world.”

“Am I in your way?” Mikleo spat. “As always. You never cared about me. All you care about is yourself and your image. The perfect, pure Shepherd.”

“What are you trying to say?” Sorey said, concern filling him.

Mikleo’s eyes burned with hatred. “I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you.”

His words - Symonne’s words - were an obvious ploy. She spat vitriol, hoping it would make him breed malevolence. Already she had played this game several times and lost, and he wouldn’t lose this time either.

But those words stung more than anything, like being inflicted with paralysis. They bit into his open wounds, seeping venom into his muscles.

He had to be stronger than this.

“Say what you like,” Sorey said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “But you can’t lie and make me think you’re being truthful.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Mikleo said, eyes flashing. “You never believe me. You’ve never trusted in me or cared for me, and I doubt you ever loved me-”

“I do love you, Mikleo!” Sorey yelled, finally letting his emotions flow freely. “I am so, so proud of you. You’ve come so far during our journey, and I don’t regret for a second that you became my sub lord. The only thing I regret is waiting so long to let you join me.”

“So you would have my power on your side,” Mikleo spat. “It’s far easier to use a tool when you’re already intimately acquainted with it, isn’t that right?”

“You know that’s not true!”

“So you say.” Mikleo summoned his staff, moving into a battle stance. “Care to prove your dedication, Shepherd?”

As little as he wanted to fight, there was no way out of this. The door behind him had disappeared, and Mikleo didn’t look like he’d happily let Sorey pass.

With gritted teeth, Sorey grabbed his sword.

The illusion grinned, teeth gleaming in an unnerving way. In a moment he darted forward, staff at the ready.

Sorey didn’t hesitate. He blocked the attack, following with a counter which hit against Mikleo's staff. Mikleo pushed him off before stepping back, moving to quickly charge an arte. With no time to stop the casting of Twin Flow, it was all Sorey could do to dodge out of the way at the last moment.

Fighting this Mikleo was unpleasant for more than one reason. Though he and Mikleo constantly sparred in their youth, practising to make themselves stronger, this felt entirely different. There were tiny nuances in the timing of his attacks, inconsistencies in his movements, and a heavy atmosphere between them. Where their sparring matches were usually light hearted and purely for training and fun, this match was life or death. This Mikleo hit him with every ounce of his strength not because he wanted to grow stronger, but because of the hatred burning in violet eyes. Every blow was aimed to kill.

But these were the things which made Sorey remember the reality of the situation.

This was not the real Mikleo. This was an illusion.

At some point they parted, breathing heavily and watching the other with wary eyes. Mikleo’s chest heaved, his muscles limp. He lunged forward for a final blow, but Sorey easily shrugged it off, swinging his sword to cast his staff to the side. The fake Mikleo fell to the ground, defeated.

“Stop using my friends to get at me,” Sorey said. “If you have a problem, come out and face us head on.”

The Mikleo on the floor glowered up at him for a moment, then disappeared in a flash of light.

Suddenly, the room brightened into colour. The fog cleared, and the door appeared behind him as before.

Sorey allowed himself to relax, barely sheathing his sword before letting himself fall to his knees. Though the tension had lifted somewhat, the physical and emotional stress of fighting the likeness of the person he loved most made his legs feel like lead. Even if it was just for a moment, he needed to breathe, to let the tension seep out of tired muscles.

Except then the door opened, footsteps came rushing towards him, and in a moment cool hands rested on his shoulders, a voice speaking in his ear, asking if he was okay.

Sorey jerked out of Mikleo’s grasp.

Mikleo pulled back, his shoulders tensing up. “What happened?” he asked in a low tone.

But Sorey couldn’t answer. His mouth tasted like cotton, too dry to form words. Instead of speaking, he shook his head.

“Perhaps we should return to Elysia for now,” Lailah suggested from near the door. “Rest is good for the spirit, after all.”

It was only now that Sorey looked up to see his other friends with her, watching him warily. The only one he couldn’t see fully was Edna, who had her umbrella up, her back turned to him.

“You’re obviously tired,” she said. “Go home. Now.”

“Heldalf isn’t going anywhere,” Rose added.

Sorey pressed his lips together. As little as he wanted to give up now, he knew they were right. If he tried to fight in this condition, he would put everyone else in danger.

A pale hand appeared in front of him. “Let’s go home,” Mikleo said.

Despite everything, Sorey couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore. Reaching out, he took Mikleo’s hand.

“Sorey.”

He opened his eyes.

Darkness covered the bedroom. The only light came from the tiny window above his bed, a small stream of moonlight on the ceiling. No sound could be heard save for their breathing and his name, a breath on Mikleo’s lips.

It had been hours since they returned. At that time, Sorey headed straight for bed, making the excuse of being too tired to talk. The others thankfully let him go without question.

But he couldn’t sleep, especially not when Mikleo came through an hour after him, taking his usual place in bed beside him.

Sorey’s hands gripped the cover around him.

“Yeah?” he whispered after a moment.

Mikleo shifted, and only when he felt the words on the back of his neck did he know Mikleo faced him now. “Will you tell me what happened earlier?”

He opened his mouth, but the sensation from earlier returned. No words came out.

When he didn’t answer, Mikleo pressed on.

“Was it Symonne?”

Closing his eyes, Sorey nodded into the pillow.

A breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I see.”

Silence filled the air. Mikleo’s breathing evened out against his skin, and Sorey opened his eyes again.

“You know I’m really grateful to you, right?” Sorey said, reminding himself that it was safe here. “That I’m glad you became my sub lord. That you’re here with me even at times like this.”

Mikleo leaned forward, his hair brushing against Sorey’s neck. “Of course I do.”

“And that I love you, and that I’m really proud of how far you’ve come?”

“Yes,” Mikleo said. “I feel the same way for you.”

A smile finally caught at Sorey’s lips at the warm way Mikleo spoke. He reached back and pulled Mikleo’s hand over him, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you, Mikleo.”

Shifting closer, Mikleo let his body meet Sorey’s back, supporting him.

“Don’t thank me,” he whispered. “Those are my true feelings. That’s all.”

Outside, the sky remained clear, stars piercing through the darkness. The two boys fell asleep in an embrace, comfortable in the security of home.

#sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #wow i actually wrote something in canon for once #they still gay tho #this one was fun to write

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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Eye of the Beholder

Title: Eye of the Beholder Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,286 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day four - Insecurity/Confidence (Clouds) Notes: writers take inspiration from all walks of life. i had my eyes tested recently. enjoy!

Summary: Mikleo dreaded going to the optician’s.

Also on: AO3

Mikleo dreaded going to the optician’s.

It wasn’t so much that he feared it. He’d always been fine at the dentist’s office, so he didn’t see how getting his eyes checked would be much different. His reluctance came more from the knowledge that he might have to get glasses.

Now, don’t get Mikleo wrong, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with glasses. It was just that none of the other kids in his year wore them, and there was something irksome about being the odd one out. He and his best friend Sorey were already out of place, being bookworms from a young age. At age eight, nothing seemed worse than giving his classmates fodder to tease him with.

And yet, it seemed there was no way of getting out of an eye appointment.

A week before that fateful day, he and Sorey had been at school as usual. Their classmates and the kids from other years filled the playground, yelling and laughing as they rushed around the grass, kicking footballs and playing tag. He and Sorey had planned on spending today’s break-time playing pretend near the top of the playground, where a toppled tree trunk served as a good base of operations.

One second, they were on their way there, arguing over their games - Sorey wanted to be the Shepherd as usual, but Mikleo didn’t want to be stuck playing the evil hellion again.

The next thing he knew, Sorey was on the ground. A ball bounced away, followed by a younger kid who only threw a short apology in their direction.

They spent their break in the nurse’s office, with Sorey holding an ice pack to his face as Mikleo sat beside him, his chest still tight.

“Didn’t you see it coming?” Mikleo asked.

Sorey looked down, clutching the ice pack a little tighter. “I didn’t.”

When Sorey’s mum arrived, the nurse recommended she book an optician’s appointment for him. And Mikleo being Mikleo, not wanting Sorey to have to go through this by himself, he asked if he could go with Sorey.

Thus, their mothers booked appointments on the same day for them, and that’s how they ended up here.

The optician’s was a small establishment on the main street of their hometown. Though the interior was recently designed, it was attached to an older building, one of the many which lined the street, dating back centuries. Due to it being an old building, it loomed over them as they approached, casting a shadow over the street.

The interior felt space-age when compared to the exterior. It was clean and refined, filled with new technology the likes of which could scarcely have been imagined when the building was first made. They were greeted by a cheerful woman behind a desk, who chatted happily with their mothers as she clicked away on a computer at the front desk. There were a couple of desks a little further into the shop, one of which held a man having a pair of glasses fitted by another sales assistant. Other than a few chairs for the waiting customers, the only furniture Mikleo could see were the glass shelves lining the walls to his left and right. Glasses sat on every layer; round ones, square ones, frameless ones, sunglasses - all kinds of frames watched his every move, waiting for him to pick them up.

Beside him, Sorey shrank a little, his eyes following the glasses warily.

Mikleo squeezed his hand, forcing himself to be strong for his friend. Sorey squeezed back, his shoulders relaxing at the motion.

“Now, you must be Sorey and Mikleo?”

They looked up to see the woman from behind the counter kneeling in front of them. She looked kind enough, with an old, lined face and a pare of wire-rimmed glasses atop her nose.

Sorey’s grip on Mikleo’s hand got a little tighter.

“Can we go in together?” Mikleo asked, forcing his voice out of his throat. He didn’t want to leave Sorey alone, not when he was this scared.

The lady smiled at them. “Of course. Don’t worry, I won’t separate you. Now, are you okay to come through to the examination room?”

Mikleo exchanged a glance with Sorey. His face relaxed at the knowledge that they could stay together, and he gave Mikleo a nod of affirmation. Taking that as his answer, Mikleo turned back to the lady.

“Okay.”

“Sorey, have you seen my glasses?”

Mikleo waits a moment to hear a response, surveying the damage around him. The bedroom of his flat is far messier than he usually lets it get, with items from his drawers and desk strewn all over every available surface. The bed hasn’t been made yet, its clothes thrown open in the rush to get up with his alarm.

A head of brown hair pokes around the door from the en-suite bathroom. Sorey’s eyebrows furrow over the rim of his own glasses. “No? Didn’t you put them in your glasses case last night?”

“I don’t think so?” Mikleo says, pushing a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember taking them off last night. They’re not in the bathroom, are they?”

“Can’t see ‘em in here,” he says, not bothering to check again. Instead he comes out of the bathroom, heading over to Mikleo’s side. “It’s not like you need them to see. Can’t you go without them?”

“It feels weird not wearing them,” Mikleo says, glancing around himself once more. “Speaking of wearing glasses, though, you’re not putting in contacts today?”

“Nah, I wanted to give my eyes a rest.”

Sorey’s glasses are a pretty rare sight, but Mikleo can’t say he doesn’t like them. The rectangular frames suit his facial shape, and dark green has always been a nice colour on him.

“They suit you,” Mikleo says, reaching out to flick the bridge of them. Sorey flinches at the contact. “Like lipstick on a pig.”

“Hey!” Sorey pouts at him. “You helped me choose them.”

“And you helped me choose mine,” Mikleo says, moving past Sorey to get into the bathroom. Sure enough, the sides are entirely vacant of the missing glasses. “Are you sure you haven’t seen them?”

Sorey follows him into the bathroom, leaning his chin on Mikleo’s shoulder as they stand by the sink. “Why don’t you just not wear them today? You look good without them.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere if I find out you hid them just so you could see me without them,” Mikleo warns, though he leans into Sorey’s touch. “Besides, I only got them because of you in the first place.”

A smile crosses Sorey’s lips. “Yeah. You didn’t want me to feel so alone when I had to get glasses, so you got a pair without a prescription.”

“And then I got used to them,” Mikleo says. “I guess I was insecure for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t need to feel insecure.” Sorey presses his lips to Mikleo’s neck, lazily kissing the skin beneath his ear. “You’re beautiful no matter what.”

Mikleo hums, enjoying the contact. “So you did hide my glasses.”

Sorey pulls back. “I didn’t! As tempted as I am…”

With the warmth gone, Mikleo remembers their responsibilities and moves out of Sorey’s hold. “Come on, the others will be here soon. I need to finish getting ready.”

“Okay.”

Sorey gives Mikleo one last kiss on the lips for good measure, his glasses bumping against Mikleo’s eyebrows as he does, before he heads off to the living room of Mikleo’s flat.

His heart flutters happily as he pushes his hair out of his face, smiling at his reflection. At least now, he and Sorey can both feel confident, with or without their glasses on.

#sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #i apparently love writing characters as kids #and characters with glasses #also i'm actually crying over free! right now so this fic might not have been edited as well as it could have been lol

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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Origin

Title: Origin Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 9,961 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day three - Fear/Excitement (Wind) Notes: i love miraculous ladybug. i love superhero AUs. please don't judge me. you shouldn't need to have seen the show to understand this oneshot, but please let me know if anything is unclear! also feel free to come and yell with me about this AU because i love it a lot.

Summary: There is such thing as magic - both the good kind, and the bad.

Also on: AO3

There is such thing as magic.

That’s what Sorey thinks, anyway. Usually his nature tends to be that of a realistic thinker, but he’s always had a soft spot for the supernatural. It doesn’t matter what kind of magic it is; stereotypical witchcraft or spell-casting, or even forces like fate and destiny. Regardless of the type, magic has to exist in some form or another.

Of course, there’s no proof that he’s right. Even if there is, he has no way of finding it for himself, especially not when he’s in a situation like this.

His father’s study feels like a black hole where magic goes to die. The dark, regal colouring and antique flooring might suggest the opposite. But the atmosphere in the room, the hopelessness permeating the air, is what lets him know he’s right.

Georg Heldalf, Sorey’s father, stands before the window, his back facing him and blocking the outside world from view. The light before him creates the effect of his back being shadowed, hidden from view.

“Please, father,” Sorey pleads. “I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll come straight home afterwards-”

“I’ve told you time and time again, Sorey,” Georg says without moving to face him. “You will not be going to school and that is final.”

“Is it too much to ask for a single year of being allowed to learn more about the world?”

His father scoffs. “How insolent. I pay for the best tutors in Pendrago to teach you everything you need to know for a full education, and this is the thanks I get. Everything you need is in this house.”

Sorey clenches his fist, turning his gaze to the only other adult in the room. His father’s assistant, Runette, only watches silently, her lips pressed tightly together.

Maybe magic isn’t real after all. At least, it doesn’t exist in this house.

“I appreciate everything you do for me,” Sorey says in a measured tone, “but there’s more for me to see outside this house. More people for me to meet. A life lived without going outside is barely a life at all.”

Georg heaves a great sigh, pushing a hand through his blond hair in agitation. “I have given you everything I could since your birth. Now your mother is gone, I am going through more trouble to keep you safe and happy.”

“But can’t you see that I’m not happy?”

“Leave.” His father’s tone is final, strong and low. “You will not be going to school. I have nothing more to say on the matter.”

For a moment, Sorey waits, desperate to say something else, to try to convince him. In the end, though, all he can do is hold his tongue and leave, heading back through the large, lonely house towards his room.

Now, more than ever, he wishes magic was real. Maybe then he’d have a chance at a normal life.

Mikleo would love for magic to be real. Maybe it would make life easier.

Of course, there's no chance of that happening. Though he enjoys thinking of impossible things, he always sees them for what they are - impossible. That's why he doesn't get his hopes up that high school will be any better than middle school had been, or that some miracle will suddenly fix everything wrong with his life.

When he gets up on the first day of high school, his excitement is tainted by a sense of dread. There won't be many new people in his class, judging on how previous years have been. He'll be stuck in another year with a group of people he's never fit in with, and who never seemed to like him anyway.

Switching off his alarm, he takes a moment to gaze at his phone’s wallpaper, his lips curling upward at the sight of a picture of him with his best friend.

He wishes, not for the first time, that Sorey might be there to brave this new school year with him.

Again, there’s no chance of that happening. Even without the factor of Sorey’s father being the strictest man he’s ever had the misfortune to meet, he hasn’t seen Sorey for months, now. Not since his mother, Selene disappeared.

Locking his phone, he forces himself out of bed, where he puts on his glasses and begins to get ready for the day. His new school uniform is a little big on him, the white blazer sleeves almost dwarfing his palms, but he’ll grow into it. At least when he brushes his mouse-brown hair into a more sophisticated style, he doesn’t look quite so young.

Once he’s ready, he heads downstairs from his attic bedroom into the kitchen. His mother, Muse, is already there, brewing them both cups of tea to go with the cereal which sits on the island counter.

“Good morning, sweet pea,” Muse says through a yawn.

Muse has the same problem as Mikleo in that she’s always busy and never takes breaks. She wakes up at 5am everyday to make pastries for the coming day in the bakery downstairs. Then she spends all day working there, and she does the admin work at night before bed. Somehow, she fits in time to clean the house and do the chores whilst Mikleo is at school, too. He has no idea how she does it.

“Morning,” he replies, sitting down at one of the island stools. He grabs a clean bowl and pours himself some cereal. “How are you?”

“Ready for another busy day, as usual,” she says, putting a strong cup of tea on the counter beside him. “Are you excited for school? First day of a new year, after all.”

Mikleo hums in an unenthusiastic tone. “It’ll be the same as it is every year, mum.”

“But you’re in high school now,” she points out, sitting down to get her own breakfast. “Maybe something exciting will happen that will make your whole year amazing.”

“That would take a miracle, mum.”

‘Or some form of magic,’ he thinks.

A man stands alone in a dark chamber. The only light source is a window high above him, which looks out onto the city from a great height. Though the chamber is shrouded in darkness, there is no furniture to be seen. The only other inhabitants of the room are silver energy particles which float around the man, hovering near the ground.

The man holds out his hand in front of him, where a brooch lies in his palm. A red gem glimmers in the centre of its golden body, shimmering in the low light.

“What did you say you are?” he asks.

In front of him floats a strange being, one with skin of a purple hue and a blob-like form. The little creature has small pointed ears atop its head, and a tail with a fluffy tip.

"I am a kwami named Symonne," the creature says. "I live within the brooch you're holding, the Lion Miraculous."

"And if I wear this brooch, you will grant me powers?" he asks.

"Yes. I provide the power to send off energy to people, which gives them their own powers for a short period of time, under your jurisdiction. They will be able to do as you command them to."

Though the man’s face is hidden in shadows, his teeth gleam in the light. "And if I capture two certain Miraculouses, I might be granted special powers?"

Symonne nods. "Capturing the Miraculous of the Magpie and the Cat will grant you both the powers of creation and destruction, and any wish you ask for will come true."

A grin spreads across his lips. "Then I shall do exactly that. And what better way to lure two Miraculous-holding superheroes than to create supervillains, do you not agree?"

"Yes, master," Symonne says, her own lips curling as she watches him pin the brooch onto his shirt. "All you have to do is ask."

The man, standing tall in his lair, calls out. "Symonne, transform me!"

Darkness envelopes him, swirling around him as his clothing changes. A moment passes before he stands once more, this time clad in an entirely different outfit, one drenched in hues of purple and black. A mask covers his face, hiding his identity behind the image of a lion. The brooch on his collarbone holds together a long black cloak.

“Let it be known now that I am Calamity,” he says. "I shall cover Pendrago in darkness, in order to fulfil my wish. That is my answer."

Calamity lets out a roar of laughter, and for a moment, the world sees nothing but darkness.

The dark aura, for the most part, is unnoticeable. Only a few creatures sense it when it washes over them, one of whom stirs in a small house on the outskirts of the city.

Kyme freezes in the drawer where he usually sleeps, his body wrought with fear. This sensation filling him is one he has only felt a few times before, at times which preceded eras filled with chaos.

It is dread which makes him fly out of the drawer, heading quickly to his master’s side.

He finds Zenrus in the living room of the house, sitting on a pillow in front of the fireplace. He takes a long drag from his pipe, his expression all too calm considering the situation.

“Master,” he says.

Zenrus turns his attention to the green kwami. “Kyme. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, master. I felt a terrible aura. It can only mean one thing.”

“The Lion Miraculous?” When Kyme doesn’t respond, he breathes out the smoke from his pipe. “So, Calamity will rise once more. It was bound to happen one day.”

“But master, it hasn’t even been two decades-”

“There is no use in pondering the reason,” Zenrus says. He pulls out a necklace from around his neck, clutching it in his free hand. “We must make haste in stopping Calamity.”

Kyme zooms over, stopping Zenrus from uttering any more words. “Master, with all due respect, your body is too weak now to transform.”

“I’m still young,” he says, though they both know otherwise. For a man who has lived for centuries, even if he is strong, he does not have the power alone needed to triumph over evil. “But you are right. We must call on those with power stronger than any other.”

He gets up from his seat, moving over to where a music box sits in the corner of the room. Though it looks innocent enough, he opens a panel on it and types in a code. When it opens, it reveals dozens of pieces of jewellery, all inscribed with ancient symbols.

“You will choose another Magpie and Luzrov?” Kyme asks hesitantly. He isn’t sure he wants to know the answer. Hearing the truth will only tell him how much their city, and perhaps even their world, is at stake.

Zenrus nods gravely. “In times like these, it is only these two who may put an end to the evil threatening our world. I’m afraid it is a necessity.”

For a moment, they both stay silent, contemplating the war which will begin the moment these Miraculouses come into use. It will be a long struggle, if the past instances are anything to go by. They’ll need to use all of their strength, and choose heroes with unwavering hearts.

Kyme turns his attention to his master. “Where should we begin?”

It’s surprisingly easy to sneak out of Sorey’s house.

He’s only done it a few times before, and he’s never gone much farther than the end of the street. That being said, he could have gone farther, if he’d wanted. His only issue is the guilt which crawls into his throat at the thought of being caught.

This time, however, when he climbs out of his window and over the wall surrounding the house, he doesn’t look back. To get what he’s always wanted, he can’t back out now. Otherwise he’ll never get to go to school, have a normal life, make new friends and see his existing ones more often.

And lord knows seeing Mikleo right now would be good enough to make this whole trip worth it.

He runs down the street, heading in the direction of the local high school. Pendrago is a large city, but most of the public services are very central, and with his father’s house being in the city centre, it’s fairly easy to find where he’s going. Not having an escort tailing him makes getting around a lot easier, too.

As he moves into more crowded areas, he forces himself to slow his pace to a fast walk. He can’t have himself sticking out in such a huge crowd, lest someone recognises him from the few pictures online of his father with his family, back when his political power stretched further.

All he’s going to do is enrol for classes. If he does that, surely his father will understand his resolve.

The school building looms in the distance, and he speeds up, ready to run straight in. However, as he approaches it, he sees an old man crossing the street in front of the school. The man walks with a cane and a hunched back, very slowly and uncertainly. The ringing of the school bell punctuates the moment his foot slips, and he falls to the ground, just as a car turns the corner.

When Sorey moves now, it is an instinct more than a thought process. One moment he’s watching from afar, the next he kneels beside the man on the road. He picks up the man’s cane before turning to him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering an arm. “Can you stand?”

The car approaching grinds to a halt as the old man takes Sorey’s arm, using it to levy himself off the ground and onto his feet once more. They move onto the pavement and Sorey passes him his cane with a warm smile, which the old man returns gratefully.

Before either Sorey or the man can say anything, though, the halted car’s door slams, and a familiar voice assaults his ears.

“Sorey!” His father’s assistant Runette stands by the car, her eyes wide with anger, chest heaving. “You must come home at once!”

Feeling his heart crush in his chest, Sorey turns to face her. He doesn’t notice as the old man walks away, barely using his cane at all to move. “Please, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this for so long-”

“Your father has told you time and again. Neither he or I will make any exceptions.”

The sound of a crowd grows, and Sorey knows if he doesn’t want to cause a scene whilst the students are going for lunch, he should stand down. But he can’t bring himself to give up. This is his last chance at convincing his father - or at least his assistant - that he ought to be allowed to attend public school.

“I understand that my father is worried for me,” Sorey says, “but I don’t see any issue with this. School is meant to be a safe place. Why would I get hurt here?”

“You will not be attending, and that is final.”

“Please-”

“Sorey?”

This voice feels like a blessing and a curse when he hears it.

Sorey whips around, his heart racing as he sees the familiar figure of Mikleo standing a few feet away. He’s wearing the school’s uniform, complete with the iconic white blazer Sorey has seen people wearing when he passes the school in the car. The formal dress is a little surprising, but he can’t say it doesn’t suit Mikleo. The only thing which doesn’t seem to belong on his face is the confusion and concern forming in his violet eyes.

“Mikleo,” Sorey says weakly.

“What are you doing here?” Mikleo asks, looking between Sorey and Runette. “Is something wrong?”

When Sorey opens his mouth to answer, he feels Runette’s ice-cold glare in the back of his head more than he hears her speak his name in a warning tone.

He holds up a finger to represent “one second” before rushing over to Mikleo.

“There isn’t time to explain everything right now,” Sorey says. “Can I call you later?”

Though Mikleo looks like he wants to ask more questions, he settles for a nod. “Alright. Just don’t scare me like that in the future, okay?”

“Thanks, Mikleo.”

Sorey heads back toward Runette, hesitating when he sees the escort car waiting for him, ready to return him to a life he will never escape from.

There’s no point in resisting, though. All he can do is obey the wishes of his father. He’s powerless to do anything else.

Zenrus turns the corner, heading into an alleyway behind the school. It’s shaded enough that onlookers shouldn’t see more than a silhouette if they happen to glance over as they pass by. Reaching into his pocket, he removes an ornate jewellery box in the shape of a hexagon, marked with symbols only he and a few others understand.

“Take this to that boy’s house,” he tells Kyme, who comes out from his hiding spot in Zenrus’ other pocket.

“Are you certain? This boy is definitely the right one for the Magpie Miraculous?”

Part of Zenrus wishes Kyme wouldn’t be so cautious, but then again, he is the same way. “I only ever chose wrongly once, years ago. I will not allow that to happen again.”

With that as his answer, Kyme gives in, taking the box from his master. He is dwarfed by its size, but he manages to carry it with him as he flies off into the sky on his mission.

Watching after him, Zenrus grasps his cane. There is nothing left to do now but search for the other hero their city needs, and then hope he’s made the right decision.

As the black car drives away, Mikleo wonders if this day can get any weirder.

Not only has he just been faced with the sight of his best friend for the first time in months, having an argument in front of his school. He’s also been in classes where he doesn’t recognise a single person, and watched his History teacher lose his composure over the rudeness of a few careless students.

To be fair, Mikleo can understand why his teacher was upset. Professor Uno seems like an intelligent and patient man. For a class to give such a rude first impression, interrupting constantly and bickering without any care for their teacher’s warnings, it doesn’t give him hope for the rest of the school year. If the other students would just be more considerate, maybe things would be better.

A crash interrupts his thoughts, followed by a shriek of fear. He whips back to face the school, heart stopping as he sees what stands at the door.

Rather than a person, it’s more of a half-human, half-snake creature. The blue tail suggests it’s more snakelike, along with the scales crawling up the man’s exposed neck and face. His hair falls around his shoulders in a mess, his eyes now slits, glowing with rage. Strangest of all, he wears a snake around his neck.

“Students,” the man calls out, “My name is Uroboros. It is time you were taught a lesson in manners!”

When Mikleo said he wanted people to be more considerate, this isn’t how he expected them to be taught about it.

He backs away behind one of the pillars supporting the school building, watching from behind it as the snake man moves towards the fleeing students, swiping at them with long claws. It’s a sight unlike anything he’s seen before, unlike anything he’s ever wanted to see, and for a horrifying moment, he wonders if this is the proof he desired that magic exists.

If it is, he kind of wishes he never found out.

Uroboros swipes at a pillar, causing the roof to cave in, stone dust and debris falling from above. Mikleo has to run to get out of the way, holding one arm over his head and the other over his mouth, the fabric of his blazer hot against his lips from his breaths. As he reaches the corner of the building, he notices an old man standing nearby, a look of horror in his eyes as his cane lies abandoned a few feet away.

“You need to get out of here!” Mikleo yells, getting the man’s attention. He runs toward him, picking up the cane and handing it to him. “I’ll help you to safety.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Mikleo grabs the man’s arm and drags him around the corner, running with him down the alleyway toward the next street down. It’s a useful shortcut to know, one which leads to a main street with plenty shops lining the streets. He drags the man into one at random. The door opens with a crash, and the woman behind the counter startles as he rushes in.

“There’s something attacking near the school,” Mikleo explains, letting go of the man’s arm. “Please look after this man. Lock all the doors and alert the others on this street.”

The woman nods, too scared and shocked to say a word, and Mikleo runs out of the shop again. If someone is terrorising the school, he can’t bring himself to sit back and do nothing.

In the shop, Zenrus gives a reassuring smile to the cashier before heading to the door. “The young boy is right. Please stay inside.”

The woman says, “Where are you going?”

“I have far more important things to be doing than hiding,” he answers cryptically.

As he leaves the shop and rushes down the street as fast as his legs will take him - which, to be fair, is a lot slower than it used to be - he can’t help the heavy feeling in his heart.

“I suppose the white cat runs in your blood,” he says to himself as he runs toward a certain bakery, where a pair of violet eyes reside, matching those of the boy he has chosen.

It’s only once Sorey gets back to his bedroom and turns on his TV that he hears about what’s happening.

He sits down on his sofa, reclining and ready to find another documentary he’s already watched a thousand times, only to find himself bombarded with news announcements.

“A man with the tail of a snake has been spotted roaming near the Pendrago High School,” the news reporter says. The footage switches to an aerial shot of the school, where it shows an unbelievable creature who truly has the body of a snake. “The creature is incredibly violent. We urge citizens to stay at home if possible, and not to engage the beast at all costs.”

“This is crazy,” Sorey murmurs, watching in horror as the snake creature swipes at a passing student. “Is this real?”

It occurs to him, that Mikleo had been near the school only minutes ago. He hopes with all his heart that he managed to get away.

His head drops as he wonders how this will end up. Will someone be able to stop the beast? Or will it continue terrorising innocent people? This is the kind of thing which only happens in comic books, but as far as he knows, there aren’t any superheros in Pendrago.

Catching sight of something in the corner of his eye, he looks up. In the centre of his coffee table sits an antique jewellery box.

It’s like nothing he’s seen before. Though the markings have come up in textbooks and online articles he’s read about ancient relics, he can’t figure out its origin era, or what it’s supposed to mean. Most confusing of all, of course, is how it ended up in his room. He’s never seen it before, and neither his father nor his assistants are the types to give gifts at random.

Well, he has nothing to lose. He opens the jewellery box.

Suddenly, a burst of white light surrounds him, and he squints his eyes as something materialises before him. It takes a moment for the light to disappear before he sees an unfamiliar creature floating in the air above the box. It looks a little like a bird, though it’s an unnatural shade of green, and it has a little antenna thing sticking out from its head. It also grins at him, which Sorey is unsure birds are usually able to do.

His expression changes to a disappointed frown a moment later. “Awww, I’d been hoping for a pretty lady this time.”

Sorey blinks, unsure how much more surprised he can get. He isn’t sure whether to ask what it is or why it can talk or what. In the end, what comes out of his mouth is, “Sorry?”

The thing, whatever he is, crosses his arms behind his head, letting his expression become easygoing once more. “Welp, can’t be helped. Hey kid, the name’s Zaveid. Looks like I’ll be your kwami from here on out.”

“What?” Sorey asks, getting even more confused at this new terminology. “What does that mean? Who are you?”

The kwami - Zaveid - rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I just told you, I’m Zaveid, a kwami. Seriously, you got ears, don’t you?” He looks down at the jewellery box, prompting Sorey to do the same. “See those earrings? That’s where I live.”

They’re an ordinary looking pair of silver ear cuffs, each with two black beads attached to them.

“You live in the earrings?” Sorey asks.

“Yup. If you put them on and say “transform me”, I grant you super special powers, and you can purify evil.”

Sorey’s eyes widen, slowly beginning to understand what Zaveid is talking about. “Wait, you can make people have magic?”

Zaveid grins. “Yeah. With my help, you’ll be a superhero. You up for it?”

“Of course! This is the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of!” Sorey jumps up from the sofa, taking the earrings out of the box. As he puts them on, he continues with his questions, trying to pry more information out of the kwami.

Though Zaveid doesn’t tell him much, he learns this: with these earrings, he will become a hero with the power to create a lucky item to help him defeat villains. These are people who have been tainted by evil creatures known as akumas, which are controlled by - well, he’s not sure, Zaveid changes the subject before he can ask. In any case, as a hero, he’ll have the strength and ability to save those in need, and to purify the akumas, returning the victims to their original states.

“So you mean to say the snake thing attacking the school is an akuma victim?” Sorey asks, looking over to the TV once more.

“Looks like it,” Zaveid says. He doesn’t sound like he’s in much of a hurry as he says, “You should probably be quick. Looks like that guy’s only getting angrier.”

With both earrings on, there’s nothing stopping Sorey from going now. He clenches his hand into a fist, then grins confidently.

“Alright. Zaveid, transform me!”

Zaveid is sucked into his earrings, and light explodes around him. His body is encompassed by a warm aura, and he finds his clothes changing to a black and white bodysuit, fit with a colourful bird’s tail and thigh-high lace up boots. A mask with a pointed, beak-like nose covers his face, and he runs a glove-covered hand through his hair, messing it up a little to make it more windswept. White feathers sprout from his earrings, brushing against his skin.

The moment passes, and he finds himself alone in his room, now in a strange outfit.

Still, Sorey has never felt so powerful before. Now, he feels like he’s capable of anything.

“This is amazing!” he says, looking over himself. “So now what do I do?”

Only silence answers him.

“Zaveid?” he says, looking around himself. The kwami is nowhere to be seen.

“Alright,” he says to himself. “Guess I’ll figure it out as I go along.”

He rushes over to the window and jumps out, ready to take on whatever this creature will throw at him.

Mikleo’s chest heaves with exertion. He’s been running around the school for longer than he can keep track of, now. At least it looks like he’s helped most of the stragglers to safety at this point, but if there are any more here, he’s not sure how much help he’ll be. He’s already out of energy, and no one has shown up to tackle the snake man yet.

All he can do is hope that someone will come to save the day. After all, if snake people exist, then there must also be someone with the power to best them. Well at least, that’s what he hopes.

He makes sure the coast is clear before running out from his hiding spot, trying to find the best way of getting away from the school. It’ll do no good if he gets caught by that snake man now.

The door is in sight. He runs toward it at full speed, hoping the snake is where he left it, nearer the rear of the school than the front entrance. He gets outside, toward the debris where pillars have fallen, and it’s only at the last moment that he hears the sound of crumbling rock.

‘Oh no,’ he thinks.

Before he can even move to protect himself, something comes barrelling into him, pushing him out of the building as the stone pillars fall, blocking the door. He lands on the ground with a thud and a large weight on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

The weight shifts.

“Are you alright?” someone asks.

Mikleo opens his eyes, his heart hammering as he takes in the image of someone new, someone he’s sure he’s never seen before and yet feels some sort of familiarity toward. This guy - he has to be a superhero, no one else would wear that getup and push people out of collapsing buildings with that strength - but there’s something in his green eyes that Mikleo feels like he should recognise.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammers, still shell-shocked. He swallows to regain his composure before speaking again. “Who are you?”

The hero gets up off of him before offering a hand, pulling him back onto his feet with ease. “My name is So- er, Magpie,” he says. “I’m here to help get rid of a snake problem?”

For a moment, Mikleo isn’t sure exactly what to say. He’s never thought about being in this kind of situation before. Everything happening to him has put his head in such a spin, it feels like his whole knowledge of normal conversation has gone right out of his head.

In the end, he looks over in the direction of the school building. “I suspect it’s in there somewhere.”

Magpie nods, his feathered earrings blowing in the wind with the ends of his windswept hair. “Thanks. Let me get you to safety first, though. Can’t have you getting bit, after all.”

He ends his sentence with a cheeky smile. Mikleo can’t help but wonder how he can smile in this dangerous situation.

In the end, he doesn’t get a choice in this matter. Magpie picks him up in a fireman’s lift with ease, using a running start before running and jumping up onto the building opposite the school. He runs along the rooftops, bridging the gaps with jumps Mikleo can’t imagine a normal person making. It’s only a matter of minutes before he drops Mikleo off on the balcony of his family’s bakery, where the trapdoor leads down into Mikleo’s room.

“How did you know this is my house?” Mikleo asks as Magpie sets him down.

The hero gives a loud laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Lucky guess? Anyway, I’d better go. Stay safe!”

With that, Magpie flits off again, leaving Mikleo to watch in a bewilderment.

“Messed that up,” Sorey mutters to himself as he makes his way back toward the school. “I almost completely blew my cover! Of course Mikleo would be the first one I’d bump into…”

Had it been any other situation, Sorey would have told Mikleo everything right away. After all, this is something they could both enthuse over, sharing their amazement at the existence of superpowers and heroes and ancient earrings with magical birds living inside of them. In the end, though, there’s no way he can say anything. Zaveid made as much clear earlier, when he told Sorey about the Miraculous.

“Oh, but you can’t tell anyone,” he said, his face growing serious only then. “Not your mum, not your girlfriend, no one.”

Sorey didn’t know how to tell Zaveid that his mum is dead and that he doesn’t have - or want - a girlfriend. He got the gist, though, and that’s why he knows not to tell Mikleo.

Still, he can’t help but feel a little more comfortable, now that’s over. At least he can rest assured that Mikleo is safe at home. Now he can focus fully on fighting the akuma.

He makes his way back to the school, glad to see that the snake has remained within the courtyard. It fumes with rage, but Sorey tries not to think too much about that. If he stands a chance of beating this thing, he’ll do better if he doesn’t worry about how angry it looks.

The only problem now is that he has no idea how to take this thing down. Sure, he has a weapon, though it’s a magical recorder, which Sorey doesn’t even know how to play, let alone how to use in close combat. The only other thing he knows he can do is summon a lucky item, but there’s no guarantee it will be of any use either.

As he watches the creature tear down another pillar, though, he knows there’s no other option.

Lifting the recorder to his lips, his hands somehow know exactly what to do. He plays a short tune, a ball of light forming at the base of the instrument. Then he throws that light into the sky and cries, “Lucky charm!”

The light grows above him, twisting and forming into an unrecognisable shape before disappearing. At the same time as it disappears, a book falls from the sky into his hand.

“A book?” he says, frowning as he examines the cover. It looks like a school-issued textbook, though he has no idea why this is going to be of any use.

“You!” a voice cries before he can figure it out.

Sorey stows the book in his belt, hoping it won’t slip out, and turns his attention to the akuma. Since it’s noticed him by now, there’s no way he can hide. All he can do is fight.

“Hey, snake face!” Sorey yells to it. “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

“People like you!” Uroboros says, lashing out at the pillar supporting the roof where Sorey stands. He barely manages to escape before it crumbles, running along the roof as the snake follows, pushing every pillar it sees to the ground. “People who have no consideration! Brats like you need to be taught a lesson, and that’s what I will do!”

(Uroboros, in his anger, almost does not hear the voice in his head, reminding him of his duty. When he hears it, though, he hisses, knowing his duty and vowing to obey.)

“Pretty dangerous lesson,” Sorey says, hopping over to a nearby tree. “Does it really need to involve so much destruction?”

“There is no better way,” the snake says. “But your lesson will be different. Before I can punish you, I must have those earrings!”

Sorey sighs. Of course this is how things would turn out. “Isn’t stealing pretty inconsiderate? How ironic.”

He hops out of the tree, moving along lampposts and other trees, using roofs as leverage as Uroboros follows, destroying everything he touches. Sorey can’t help but worry how long all this will take to fix.

Still, as he runs, his head spins with options. He needs to figure out a plan, some way to use this book, or to trap the akuma victim-

That’s it!

He changes his course, setting off in the direction of the school once more. “Bet you can’t catch me!”

Uroboros, as expected, follows in a blind rage, entering the school courtyard through the side, the only area not blocked by pillars. Sorey then runs around the debris, hopping onto the roof supported by the last remaining pillars.

“You will be taught a lesson!” the snake cries out, lashing out at the pillars.

As expected, the pillars crumble. Sorey barely manages to hop away before the roof falls with them, a crash of dust and debris falling to the ground. With all the exits blocked off, Uroboros can only cry out in frustration as Sorey remains out of his reach.

There’s no time to celebrate, though. Before he can even wonder what to do next, his earrings beep at him, reminding him of something else he’d forgotten: time.

Zaveid's voice floats through his mind, a reminder of their earlier conversation. “If you use your power, you’ll only have five minutes until you transform back. We kwamis can’t keep up for longer than that.”

He groans. Even if he has the villain cornered, of course he’s going to run into another complication. And all for the sake of a book he doesn’t know the use of.

Pulling the book out from his belt, he begins to sift through the pages, ignoring how the snake man yells at him from below. He doesn’t hear when the snake man grips the debris, trying to climb up the wall to reach him.

Sorey reaches the last page. Uroboros reaches the edge of the roof.

Someone suddenly plucks the book from Sorey’s hands and throws it at the snake, making him fall down once more.

When Sorey looks up, his heart stops. In front of him stands a boy painted in white, with fluffy cloud-like hair and a white super suit not unlike his own. Two pointed ears pop up from between tufts of hair. His left wrist bears a bracelet of gold, with a small aquamarine jewel embedded within it.

Perhaps the most intriguing thing about him are his eyes, hidden behind a white mask, a vibrant violet against his pale palette. The colour extends to the sclera, covering what would usually be white in a pale lilac hue.

Sorey’s first thought is, ‘I’m in love.’

His second is, ‘This guy is like me.’

“Aren’t you reckless,” the stranger says, regarding him with a judging gaze. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

Sorey barely manages to snap put of his stupor to give a response. “I- uh- thanks?”

The stranger's lips curl up a little, and he turns away. “Go and rest up, and come back once you’re done. I can hold this thing off for now.”

The beeping in Sorey's ears reminds him that he ought to hurry in doing so. Before he leaves, however, he asks, “Who are you?”

The hero looks over his shoulder at him, his gaze steady as he answers. “Luzrov.”

The name tingles sweetly on Sorey’s lips, and he can’t help but smile when he repeats it. “Luzrov. Thanks, I’ll be back!”

He rushes off, feeling his energy soar at the thought of having someone like Luzrov at his side.

Mikleo isn’t entirely sure how his day has gotten to this point. He’s a little under the impression that he’ll wake up at some point, finding this all to be a dream.

The too-real feeling of fear as he stands near the snake akuma, alone, is enough to tell him that this is actually happening.

Once Magpie dropped him off at home, he rushed back into his room, turning on the computer in his room and waiting impatiently for the live news stream to load. As he tapped his foot, he noticed a jewellery box sitting on his desk where he knew it hadn’t been this morning.

Long story short, that jewellery box is what got him here. Who’d have thought, when he woke up this morning, that he’d be a superhero by afternoon?

Of course, he’d been entirely disbelieving, at first. It had taken a solid ten minutes for his kwami, Lailah, to calm him down, speaking carefully to get him to understand the situation. She went through everything she could with him, though there were certain things she couldn’t answer due to lack of knowing, and other things she wouldn’t answer, for reasons Mikleo did not know.

In any case, he has the gist of it, and now he’s here.

Fighting an akuma.

Alone, apparently.

Well, not entirely alone. Magpie will come back. All Mikleo has to do is wait until he has rested enough. It should be easy to keep the snake man trapped until then.

Except the snake is stronger than he anticipates. By the time Magpie leaves, Uroboros has carved away a chunk of the debris surrounding the courtyard, trying to dig his way out. Mikleo springs into action, running over to that side of the roof and using his staff to whack the snake away from the new exit.

A moment later, the snake swipes out at him, throwing him to the other side.

“Another brat!” he yells. “You will be taught a lesson, all of you! But not before I take your Miraculous!”

“You’re not taking anything of mine,” Mikleo says through gritted teeth, forcing himself back onto his feet. “And you’re not getting away, either! I can’t have you destroying Pendrago just because of your anger.”

“Oh? You think you can stop me?” Uroboros hisses. In a flash, he makes his way toward him, giving him only seconds to jump back onto the roof.

Still, it’s not quite safe yet. Uroboros swipes at the wall supporting the roof, causing that part of the roof to crumble under Mikleo’s feet. It’s all he can do to jump at the last second, scurrying away from the falling chunks, trying to find stable land.

“Hurry up, Magpie,” he mutters, his heart freezing as the snake lashes out at the wall beneath him.

“Grape mille-feuille? Seriously?”

Zaveid nods with a serious expression, though the effect is dampened by how exhausted he looks. His antenna droops from lack of energy. “Yup. Best thing for getting back energy, don’t you think?”

“Are you sure you can’t eat anything else?” Sorey asks, glancing at the kwami where he rests in his bag. “There aren’t many bakeries that sell something so fancy, you know.”

“Come on, there has to be somewhere around here,” Zaveid says. “And you can’t complain about the price. I saw your house. You’re loooooooaded, kid.”

“Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I can magic up fancy sweets at your whim,” Sorey mutters.

Seriously, he never would have guessed kwamis would be such hard work. Sure, he’s worried. He doesn’t want Zaveid to be low on energy for too long, but they’re kind of running on a time limit, here.

Glancing around himself, he sees that most of the stores nearby are closed, shutters down over the doors and windows. That much is to be expected, of course - this is the first time an attack like this has happened. It could destroy anything and anyone. This way things are much safer. It does make it more difficult to find a bakery that is still open, though.

The only one he can think of that might let him in is-

“Oh, that’s it!”

Sorey rushes down the street, turning a corner and heading in a direction he knows all too well.

“What, you found someplace?” Zaveid asks.

“My best friend’s family runs a bakery,” Sorey explains. “They make all kinds of sweets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make your fancy grape things, too!”

It only takes a minute to reach the bakery, which thankfully doesn’t have its doors locked. He rushes in, the bell chiming above his head as he does. Muse looks up from the counter when he enters, her eyes widening.

“Sorey?” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you looking for Mikleo?”

“Not this time,” he says. “Do you by any chance make grape mille-feuille?”

“Yes, we do,” Muse says, her eyebrows drawn inward.

Catching a glimpse of his bag, Sorey sees Zaveid flash a quick thumbs-up, and he nods at Muse. “That’s perfect. Could I get one, please?”

As Muse bags up the treat, she says, “Isn’t this a strange time to be looking for sweets?”

“I guess,” he says. “Oh, speaking of Mikleo, though, did he make it home safe?”

Her hand freezes on the tongs, and she lays them down. “I haven’t seen him. I thought I heard the roof trapdoor open, but he wasn’t there when I went up to check on him.”

Fear strikes Sorey’s heart. If Mikleo isn’t here, then where could he be? This is exactly where he left him, after all. And how could he have left the house again without Muse noticing? And why would he?

All this worrying is making his head hurt.

He quickly pays for the mille-feuille, thanking Muse, before rushing out of the bakery again, this time with a new sense of urgency. He needs to get back and help Luzrov, before it finds Mikleo, or anyone else it could hurt.

At Pendrago castle, Uroboros pulls down a tree without mercy. Mikleo hops out of its branches, leaping between lampposts and praying he won’t catch up. There aren’t many civilians around, at the very least. Most of them seem to have left when the news alerts were broadcasted, though a couple of stragglers scream their way away from the akuma as it approaches. It’s lucky Mikleo is as fast on his feet as he is now, or else he’d have no chance of distracting Uroboros long enough to give them time to escape.

Speaking of luck, he thinks his is starting to wear thin. He's running out of lampposts, and the only other thing nearby that he could possibly use as leverage would be the castle itself. The possibility of this creature damaging such an important historical building makes him feel sick to his stomach, but he supposes he'd rather have that over someone dying because he lured the villain too close to other people.

He braces himself before leaping onto the castle ramparts, running along the walls to reach the main building. Uroboros follows behind, though he can only tell by the sound of its tail slithering over the ground and his angry complaining. He doesn’t dare look back at it, too afraid of what he might see.

Once reaches the main courtyard of the castle, he leads Uroboros in the front, taking him as far into the castle as he can from above. Only once they reach the innermost chamber before the main building does he pause, turning back.

In contrast to the destruction outside of it, the castle itself is entirely undamaged. Not a single brick lays out of place, not a dent within them. Uroboros doesn’t even try to strike out at the walls around him, where Mikleo has him almost cornered.

“It’s not attacking,” he murmurs in amazement. “But why?”

“Maybe because he’s a history teacher.”

Mikleo jumps in surprise at the sudden reappearance of Magpie, who stands a few feet away, holding the forgotten textbook.

“How do you figure?” he asks once he gets over the sudden shock, ignoring the mischievous grin which spreads across Magpie’s lips at his reaction.

“This is a history textbook,” Magpie says, flipping it open to a chapter entitled The Era of Asgard. “I looked through it earlier. It's really fascinating stuff, and that has to be the reason why he won’t damage the castle.”

“What, because he cares about history? I suppose it makes sense, but then you have to wonder how he became akumatised in the first place.”

Magpie shrugs. “I think he was angry at his students.”

Looking back at Uroboros, Mikleo squints, trying to see through blue scales to the face underneath. Something clicks for him a moment later.

“It can’t be – Professor Uno?!”

The snake yells in anger. “I am Uno no longer! My name is Uroboros, and I will punish all those who do not listen!”

“You know this guy?” Magpie asks.

“He’s an acquaintance,” Mikleo answers. “But that answers one question. Now all we have to do is purify him, right?”

“Yeah!”

A long moment of silence passes between the two of them. Then, hesitantly, Magpie says, “How do we do that?”

In that moment, the amount that Mikleo was impressed by Magpie goes down exponentially.

“Didn’t you talk to your kwami before transforming?” he says.

“O-of course I did!” he sputters. “He wasn’t exactly specific about methodology, though. All I know is that we need to find the thing that was infected by the akuma and destroy it.”

“So like a trinket of some kind?”

“Yeah. Glasses, a bag, anything that’s part of his personal effects that was there before he turned.”

Mikleo turns to look at Uroboros once more. He looks so different from when he was human that Mikleo can’t really tell what’s new and what he had on him already. All he notices that looks suspicious is the snake around his neck which looks almost like the blue tie he’d worn earlier in class.

“Do you think it might be his tie?” Mikleo asks.

Magpie hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Might be. It’d be worth a shot, right?”

“Well sure, but we still have to get close enough to break it.”

“Time for some close combat, I guess,” Magpie says, moving to the edge of the roof. “You up for it?”

“It’s not like there’s any other choice.” Mikleo moves to stand at Magpie’s side, looking out over the castle where the akuma lies. “If you distract it, I might be able to destroy the tie using my power.”

“You can destroy things?” Magpie asks, wide-eyed. “That’s so cool!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes at the praise. “You can create things from thin air. I’m just doing my part, too.”

They both turn back to face the akuma victim, and on the count of three, they drop down, ready to fight.

“I’ll distract it,” Magpie says before calling out to Uroboros. “Hey, snake-face! Over here!”

When the distraction works, Mikleo takes his chance. He rushes around the side of the snake, watching out for its tail as he swipes it at Magpie. He pulls out his staff and extends it, quickly thinking through the logistics of how this thing might work in their favour.

“Gotta try harder than that!” Magpie yells at Uroboros, flitting out of his reach again. He glances over in Mikleo’s direction, waiting for a signal.

Mikleo gulps. This is all on him - if their plan fails, it’ll be his fault.

All he can do is try.

He raises a hand in a claw and summons his power. “Cataclysm!”

A tingling sensation fills his hand, a buzz of darkness swarming around the white glove of his suit. He holds it out of the way as he uses his other hand to hold the staff, extending it beneath him to push himself into the air. As he jumps over Uroboros, he reaches his other hand down, his fingers grazing the edge of the tie.

It’s enough to do the job. The snake-shaped tie hisses as it crumples into dust. A purple blob of energy comes out of it, floating slowly upward. Before either of them can do anything, it suddenly grows larger, collecting in a giant mass above them, forming into the shape of a lion’s head.

“Listen well,” it says in a low, deep rumble. “I am Calamity. I cannot be stopped or quelled, and I will without doubt take those Miraculous of yours. I will cause chaos in this city. Weaklings like you will not stop me. You might as well hand them over right now.”

Mikleo glares at the lion’s head, ready to answer, but Magpie steps out before he can say anything.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Magpie says. He stands tall and confident, even against the threat of a supervillain. “You can try as much as you like to cause destruction, but Luzrov and I will always be here to stop you. There’s no way you’ll be having our Miraculous. So just wait, Calamity. You’ll be the one giving yours up, and then this city will be brought to peace again.”

When Magpie looks over his shoulder at Mikleo, he steps forward, joining him at his side.

“That’s right,” he says.

“Fools,” Calamity says. “You will pay the price for your idiocy.”

Magpie smirks, then using his weapon, he jumps up and cuts through the ball of malevolence, purifying it with a single strike. The akuma is the only remnant, which he quickly purifies with a short melody. Then he tosses his lucky charm book into the air. A flame-like substance spreads from it, reaching endlessly over the sky for a moment, fixing everything that was broken by the fight.

The moment ends, and the city is brought to peace once more.

“Okay, that was pretty incredible,” Mikleo says, turning to his new partner in fighting crime. He holds up a fist. “Nice job.”

Magpie grins before bumping their wrists together. “Nice job, Luzrov. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

At that moment, Mikleo’s bracelet decides to beep at him, warning him of his time limit. “Well, I’d better go. See you soon, Magpie.”

With that, Mikleo uses his staff to move to higher ground, ready to get back home and finally rest.

(He doesn’t notice how Magpie watches as he goes, eyes filled with a fondness which seems far too great for people who have only just met. And yet, the warmth in his heart indicates that this bond will only become stronger, and he can’t wait to see his new partner again.)

It’s only natural that Mikleo is exhausted, the next morning.

When he got home last night, he barely said a greeting to his mother before collapsing into bed, passing out quickly from all the excitement of the previous hours. He wakes up not long before his alarm, starving and still aching from the fight yesterday. The sound of raindrops on his window soothes him a little, but not enough to make him feel any better physically.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a small voice says.

He turns his head to see Lailah on his pillow, smiling at him. She doesn’t look at all tired, and he supposes she must have gotten herself something to eat whilst he slept.

“Morning, Lailah,” he says. “So it wasn’t a dream, huh?”

Lailah gives a little laugh. Her tail flicks on the pillow. “No, it was real. You both did a wonderful job, yesterday.”

“Will that happen often?” he asks, uncertain. Even if he has this power now, knowing that the city will be in danger is concerning.

“Yes,” Lailah says, her ears drooping. “I’m afraid Calamity will not stop until the city is covered in chaos. Only you and Magpie have the power to stop him.”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose. When he signed up to this yesterday, he had no idea how serious this would become. And yet, he can’t bring himself to regret his decision, when he thinks about the number of people he saved yesterday.

Sitting up, he says, “I suppose I’d better do my best from here on out, then. I’ll be counting on you, Lailah.”

Floating up to his side, Lailah’s eyes are filled with hope. “I have every faith that you’ll make a wonderful Luzrov, Mikleo.”

He gets ready for school as usual, feeling a tad less reluctant than yesterday. When he heads downstairs for breakfast, his mother greets him with her usual smile. Somehow, today she looks more tired than yesterday. She stays quiet as he comes in, watching him as he pours his cereal for himself. He’s glad his bracelet is covered by his blazer, since he can only imagine the questions he’d get for having it.

Eventually, his mother speaks.

“Where were you yesterday?” she says. “During that attack, we were so worried for you. We heard you come in, but you weren’t there when we checked.”

Mikleo tries not to let his thoughts show on his face when he thinks, ‘Oh crap.’

“I forgot something at school,” Mikleo lies. “It was my phone. I couldn’t leave it there.”

Muse’s expression only becomes more distraught at his answer. “I thought you had more common sense than that. Wasn’t that monster at the school?”

“It wasn’t there when I got back,” Mikleo says. “I won’t do it again though, I promise.”

For a moment, she keeps up the pretence of being angry with him. She can’t hold it forever, though, and she ends up moving over to hug him tightly.

“You’d better not,” she says.

Mikleo hopes he’ll be able to hide it better in the future, or else this superhero business will be a lot tougher than he thought it would be.

Once he finishes breakfast and gathers his stuff, he says goodbye to his mum and heads out of the bakery house. The rain falls lightly on his head, cool and refreshing. He doesn’t have an umbrella, but that hasn’t stopped him from walking in the rain before. He might be soaked by the time he reaches school, of course, but he tries not to think about that.

Stepping away from the bakery door, he moves out onto the pavement-

Only to find that the rain suddenly stops.

Well, it doesn’t stop completely. He can see it falling in front of him, and can hear it pattering on the umbrella over his head. Sure enough, there’s now a stretch of clear plastic above his head, an umbrella held out by none other than-

“Sorey?!”

Sorey stands behind him, holding out the umbrella as the rain dampens his hair, running down his silver earcuffs and onto the shoulders of a brown cardigan, emblazoned with a familiar coat of arms.

“Morning, Mikleo,” Sorey says. His smile and the fondness in his eyes are warm enough to make Mikleo shiver.

Mikleo finds for a long moment that he can’t speak, his throat constricted by some unknown force. When he finally finds words, he says, “What are you wearing?”

In a teasing tone, Sorey says, “What does it look like I’m wearing?”

“Did you actually convince your dad?” Mikleo asks in disbelief. “How?”

“Turns out sneaking out of the house to go to school is a good way to make strict parents believe you want to go to school,” Sorey says with a shrug. “I dunno, though. When I got home Runette told me he’d said it was okay.”

Mikleo’s heart stutters. Somehow, everything he’d wanted is coming true. Magic is real, life is looking up, and his best friend will be in the same class as him from now on.

He couldn’t be happier.

“We should get going, or we’ll be late,” Mikleo says, pushing the umbrella so it shelters them both. The proximity between them strikes pins and needles into his arm, but he doesn’t shy away.

Instead, he walks at Sorey’s side towards his - their - school.

#sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #HI I LOVE THIS AU #this fic took so long to write though #why is the origins part so difficult and long ughghggh #i've written like three different reveals and combined they're all shorter than this oneshot

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

Text

Live On, Don’t Forget

Title: Live On, Don’t Forget Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 8,091 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day two - Loneliness/Community (Snow) Notes: you know when you finish the game for the fifth time and all you can think about is epileo angst? yeah. (also this has nothing to do with snow and is only vaguely related to the other prompts oops.) enjoy!

Summary: From the beginning, Sorey was always going to die before him. He just never expected him to leave so soon.

Also on: AO3

It hurts more than he expects it to.

Even before Sorey confessed his plan to dwell in slumber as Maotelus’ vessel, Mikleo knew they would part one day. In Elysia, he barely considered it, too wrapped up in the childish affairs of adventure and exploration. Back then, he hardly noticed how Sorey was different from him.

But as the dangers around them increased, throwing his efforts into self-improvement was all he could do to wash out the thought that constantly crossed his mind otherwise: ‘When Sorey dies, what will I do?’

Because from the beginning, Sorey was always going to die before him.

He just never expected him to leave so soon.

Sorey isn’t dead. That’s his only saving grace, whenever his mind strays into dangerous territory. One day, Sorey will wake up, and they’ll be together again.

He tries not to think about how far away that day is.

After Sorey leaves, Mikleo crashes. He doesn’t think it’s due to grief, though that certainly contributes to his emotional exhaustion. The fact of the matter, though, is that they’ve spent the past - lord, he’s lost track, how long has it been? - fighting constant battles in thicker and thicker malevolence until he practically choked, unable to breathe without the life support provided by Sorey’s domain. They proceeded to turn their own life forces into living attacks, using every last ounce of energy in their beings to defeat the greatest source of malevolence in the world. Taking that into account, it’s no wonder he’s exhausted.

Now he kneels at the edge of a giant crater. What was once a majestic temple, then a shrine of chaos, is now only a ruin of rubble. Around him stand his friends, sans the only one he’s been with all his life.

He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t have the energy to feel, right now.

It’s only when a pair of red-clad arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, that he realises he’s crying.

Scrunching his eyes shut, he buries his face in Lailah’s shoulder. For once, he doesn’t care that the others can see him like this. Right now, he only feels the burning hole in his heart and the empty space at his right hand side.

The last of his energy saps out of him, and the world goes dark.

His seraph companions let him have the time he needs to recover. In Elysia, they give him space, staying only to rest up after the battle. When they part, it is with the promise to meet again, in Ladylake.

Mikleo spends the next days surrounded by the comfort of a grieving family. Together they pay their respects to two family members: the human who changed their lives more than anyone, and the lost lightning seraph, whose death still wakes Mikleo up on the rare occasions where he finds sleep, tears running down his cheeks and a childish plea on his tongue.

These days are for reminiscing, for paying tribute to their sacrifices. They are for cleaning up the damage remaining from Bartlow’s attack, for fixing the broken buildings and setting up a new blessing to cover Elysia’s domain.

Mikleo offers to clean up Sorey’s house. Part of him wishes he hadn’t, especially when he sees the damage done to it by the humans. All of the memories he shares with Sorey from their childhood are here, lying in pieces on the ground. Antique pots and vases, stone slabs with interesting markings, and in some cases, items they found in the ruins with no real historical relevance at all. A tiny, broken laugh escapes his throat when he remembers Sorey picking up a chipped coin, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Look at this!” he’d said. “Where do you think it came from? Who do you think dropped it?”

He manages to pack away their memories into a few neat boxes, two of which are taken up only by broken pieces which he can’t bring himself to throw away. It’s only after working for those days without rest, cleaning every piece of dirt and dust that has built up around the house, that he collapses onto Sorey’s bed.

The scent of musky trees and sweet herbs fills his consciousness.

When he wakes up, the pillow is stained with tears.

Once the village returns to its previous state, though, Mikleo feels different. Detached. Though he is at home here, with his family around to support him, he finds himself craving the outside world. He wants to hear the countless voices crowding the cities, to feel the excitement of finding a new discovery, to taste human food in a warm inn with his companions.

He wants to travel.

This time, when he leaves Elysia, it’s not in the dead of the night. He says his goodbyes properly this time, promising to stay safe, to write letters and visit regularly.

Then, with Sorey’s light at his back, he departs for the world below once more.

When Mikleo makes his way to Ladylake on a path which leaves a lump of familiarity in his throat, his friends meet him there with open arms.

Lailah pulls him into a hug once more, the same sense of maternal comfort filling his chest as had done when they materialised in Camlann. This time, he does not cry. Rather, he hugs her back tightly, offering her the empathy she has shown him.

Once they part, Zaveid claps him on the shoulder, tries to keep his spirits up through remarks about finding time to bond. He offers to take Mikleo drinking, which Mikleo refuses, but it sparks a teasing debate on how long he’d last until he became black-out drunk. If anything puts him off, it’s that.

Beneath the joking exterior, though, Mikleo can tell Zaveid is trying his best, and he is grateful for it. Not that he’ll ever say that to his face, of course.

Even Edna’s teasing, though lighter than usual, feels comforting in its familiarity. She doesn’t bring up Sorey, instead teasing him for other insignificant aspects of himself which he can’t help but be riled up by. When he bites back, it distracts him. It’s temporary, but it’s a relief all the same.

Only when they head to the inn does he see Rose, sitting cross-legged on a bed, sharpening her knives. When she sees him, her grin is as bright as always, which tells him how much she’s hiding behind it.

“Hey,” she greets him, putting down her tools and holding out a hand. “Be my sub lord?”

Just because it’s Rose - because he can hear the strength of her voice, can see the intention in her eyes, trusts her well enough from months of travelling together-

Because it’s Rose, he accepts.

In the first month, Mikleo falls back on what he’s always done: he throws himself into work.

Researching seals, finding new ways to protect Camlann, making sure Sorey stays safe during his sleep - these are the thoughts which he entertains the most. He dwells in Rose’s consciousness at night, staring up at the metaphorical black ceiling provided by her sleeping body, and his mind races. He can’t sleep for thoughts of, ‘What else can I do to protect him?’

(Not that he needs sleep, and truth be told he’s always found it difficult without Sorey’s warmth at his side.)

It’s during a late-night study session in their room at the inn that Rose asks him if she can borrow The Celestial Record.

He looks up from the library-loaned book he’s been reading in the moonlight, surprised to find Rose awake but more so to hear this request. Taking the book out of the pouch he’s taken to storing it in, he feels a pang in his chest.

“I thought you hated things like this?” he says, offering it to her.

Rose shrugs, though she takes the book carefully, trying not to damage it. “If I’m gonna be a Shepherd, I feel like I should at least give it a shot, don’t you think?”

“It’s your choice,” Mikleo says, turning back to the book in front of him. “It’s not like every Shepherd had a book like this to guide them.”

In a low voice, Rose answers, “The important one did.”

For a moment, Mikleo considers that this might be Rose’s way of honouring Sorey. With him being Maotelus’ vessel, there’s no telling how long he’ll be asleep for. By the time he awakens, Rose will almost certainly be gone.

This is the last thing they have of Sorey, except for his light.

From that night, Mikleo and Rose spend a lot of time reading together.

Whenever they’re not cleaning up leftover hellions or sealing hidden passages, the two youngest members of the group sit in a rare state of silence, heads buried in books. For Mikleo, the cover changes but the subject matter never falters; he gets through five volumes on seals before Rose gets halfway through The Celestial Record.

One night, when they’re relaxing at their makeshift campsite in Lakehaven Heights, Rose lets her head hit the tree she’s leaning against with a groan. The campfire in front of her flickers, spreading lines of orange across her skin.

“This book is so boring,” she complains. “I don’t know how you guys are so into this kind of thing.”

“It’s interesting,” Mikleo says, barely lifting his eyes from his own page. “Well, to us at least.”

“I can tell,” Rose says. “You’ve written all over the damn thing! Not that I can make out half of your scribbles, they don’t even look like real words.”

Mikleo glances over at the page she has open. She’s on a spread describing the leaning towers, one which is covered in shoddily-drawn symbols. He has to fight to stop his lips curling upward at the sight.

“It’s the Ancient Tongue,” Mikleo explains. “Sometimes Sorey would practice writing it in the book to help us learn what the symbols meant. We stopped when we became fluent, though.”

Rose trails her fingers over the symbols. For a moment, she bites her lip, thinking over something before she says, “Can you teach me a little?”

“You want to learn the Ancient Tongue?” To Mikleo, this is more surprising even than her wanting to read the book. He’d never have pegged Rose for wanting to learn a language, especially not one as complex as this.

She scratches the back of her head. “I want to know what these annotations say, at least. And I kinda need to know what to say if I ever get a Squire, don’t I?”

“That’s true,” Mikleo says. “Alright, I’ll try my best.”

They spend that evening going through Sorey’s annotations, with Mikleo translating them and helping Rose to understand them better. Part of him forgets Sorey isn’t physically here with them, reading his words. Every word he chose to write down here seems to capture his essence, preserving it in these pages.

Only once the others go to bed and the light of the fire burns low do they reach the end-paper. Mikleo’s mouth goes slack, seeing symbols he’s never noticed in the back of the book.

“Mikleo?” Rose says when he doesn’t say anything. “Is something wrong?”

He can’t bring himself to speak those words.

Written in Sorey’s handwriting, printed with more care than anything else in the book, are the words: Luzrov Rulay. My one and only.

Not long after that, their party splits up.

The girls head to the west, ready to check on Marlind and Rolance whilst Mikleo and Zaveid stay behind, working to finish sealing up Camlann.

At first, Mikleo dreads it. He hasn’t spent much time alone with Zaveid, but knowing what he’s like with the others around, he’s not sure this will be any better. He doesn’t particularly want a repeat of the sauna incident. Or the swimsuit incident. Or the ‘winds of love’ incident either, for that matter.

But Zaveid is surprisingly considerate. Though he jokes around as usual, he’s serious about their work, and they get through it without much trouble. Zaveid does try to chat up a few of the Elysian seraphim when they’re there, of course, but none of them fall for his words.

One night, after a gruelling day of sealing, Mikleo heads out to the overhang outside of Elysia. He remembers this outlook fondly from memories both old and recent. Countless nights, he sat here with Sorey, watching the stars, dreaming of faraway lands they knew only from books and their imaginations. Not to mention that one day, near the time of their final battle, when once more he found his feelings trapped on his tongue.

Now the view has changed. A bright shoot of white stretches through the stars, reaching all the way up and down, embracing the world.

If he wants, Mikleo could fool himself into feeling like Sorey is here, beside him. In a way, he is here. Asleep though he is, Sorey is one with Maotelus right now, which means he is one with the earth itself. Somehow, Mikleo feels like if he says something now, his words will reach Sorey, no matter how far away his body rests.

A breeze brushes against his skin. His words join it in a single breath.

“I love you.”

“Flattering, but I’m way too old and straight for you, Mik-boy.”

Mikleo jolts as Zaveid flops to sit on the grass beside him. He tries to ignore how his cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I- I wasn’t talking to you-”

“Settle down, I’m just teasing you,” Zaveid laughs, patting his back. “Like I said, the wind carries all sorts of messages. I didn’t expect you to take me seriously when I told you that, though.”

“What do you want?” Mikleo says, glaring at the wind seraph.

Zaveid’s laughter dies down, and he looks out onto the skyline, lips pressed in a line. “I lost someone important to me, too. A long time ago.”

This catches Mikleo’s attention.

“Her name was Theodora,” Zaveid clarifies. “Amazing woman. Lively, upbeat… We were happy together.”

A stupid, inappropriate part of Mikleo wants to poke fun at how Zaveid managed to hold onto a lover at some point, but he stops himself.

Instead he asks, “What happened?”

Zaveid lets out a mirthless laugh. “What do you think? She became a dragon.”

Mikleo doesn’t need to ask how the story ends.

“The problem I had was that I didn’t want to believe it,” he continues. His hair rustles in the breeze, drifting around his shoulders, freer apparently even than Zaveid himself. “I convinced myself she was herself, right until the end. If Eizen hadn’t killed her, I might have ended up the same way.”

When Mikleo doesn’t respond, Zaveid turns to face him, eyes burning with a seriousness he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Sorey’s not dead,” Zaveid says. “And he’ll come back someday. But you can’t just hang on to your memories of him. Time changes everyone. It’s not something you can resist.”

Those words strike his core deeply. It’s something he’s told himself before but never wanted to admit, a fear which curdles in his throat, forced down by will alone.

But Zaveid is right.

In a broken breath, Mikleo whispers, “I know.”

A large hand pats his back, and they exchange no more words. Only the wind whispers their shared sorrow into the night sky.

The issue with having a problem is that identifying it is the easy part.

Mikleo shouldn’t be this hung up on Sorey. He’s been trying so hard to keep busy, to drown out the loudness of an empty space, to keep his mouth shut when all he wants to do is turn to his right and find someone listening to him.

He made a silent vow, that night in Lastonbell. When Sorey told him his dream would live on, Mikleo promised himself that he would, too. He’d move on without regrets, without staying stuck in the past. Because he knows Sorey would not want him to live like this.

But it’s hard. Naturally so, given that it’s only been a few months, and he’s lived alongside Sorey for eighteen years. To think of the amount of centuries looming before him would make him waver all the more.

Mikleo has always been stubborn, though. He can’t let himself be held back by regrets, or loneliness.

Sorey will return. Until then, Mikleo needs to live life enough for both of them.

After all, they haven’t achieved their dream yet. There’s still work to do.

When they return from Camlann, Mikleo cuts his hair.

He hasn’t done it for a while, since even when he and Sorey journeyed together they never got the chance to sit down and maintain their appearances. Mikleo only ever bothers with his own when Sorey needs it done. To cut his hair alone feels almost sacrilegious.

But he needs to move forward. Zaveid’s words have lingered in his mind, urging him to take up the scissors. As he stands before the mirror, eyeing up how his fringe brushes lower over his eyes than it should, he knows he needs to cut himself off from this slump. Not that he’s slumping right now - it takes a lot of concentration to make his reflection show up at all.

He raises the scissors to surround a few strands of his fringe.

“Mikleo? What are you doing?”

It happens all at once: the scissors close with a metallic finality, a clump of his fringe falling onto the vanity table. His reflection fizzles out of sight, and Rose shrieks.

“Calm down!” Mikleo says, watching her jump away, putting her arms over her face in self-protection.

Rose glares at him, lowering her arms. “Don’t do that!” she yells.

“I didn’t mean to! You’re the one who made me lose concentration.”

Reaching up to his fringe, he surveys the damage. It doesn’t feel too much shorter than when he’d usually cut it. He can probably salvage it without too much trouble.

(It’s certainly nowhere near as bad as The Incident. For once, he actually feels glad Sorey isn’t here to laugh at him for this.

A lump of guilt forms in his throat, and he stops thinking about that.)

“Are you cutting your hair?” Rose asks, eyeing up the hair on the table. “You any good?”

“Usually, yes,” Mikleo says. “When people aren’t shrieking around me, anyway.”

Rose ignores his prod, instead asking, “Would you mind cutting mine for me when you’re done? It’s getting too long, it’s a real pain in battle.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks!”

She heads out of the room, leaving Mikleo alone once more.

He stares at the empty mirror and lets out a long sigh. Time to try again, he supposes.

From that day on, whenever Mikleo cuts his hair, he trims Rose’s hair as well. If Alisha is with them, he’ll offer his services to her, something which she declines at first, too modest to accept such treatment from the seraphim she is supposed to worship devoutly. He soon convinces her that there’s no reason she should treat him any differently than her human friends, though, and she allows him to cut her hair too.

(He can’t help but roll his eyes when he remembers the true name Rose gave to Alisha. If Rose remembered anything of the Ancient Tongue Mikleo taught her, of course it was that.)

Edna jokes about him becoming a hairdresser for Shepherds and their companions, which irks him for a while. It’s not like he chose this for himself. But the irony comes when Edna plops down on the chair in front of him one day after Rose vacates it.

“Don’t mess it up,” she tells him, laying her umbrella across her lap as a warning.

As he trims away the split ends from her hair, Edna mostly stays silent. It’s different from when he cuts Rose’s hair - being talkative by nature means she never has nothing to say. Even Alisha makes polite conversation, and it’s a far cry from when he used to cut Sorey’s hair. That doesn’t make it unpleasant, though. The silence between them is surprisingly amiable.

“Did you cut your own hair, on Rayfalke?” he asks one day.

Edna takes a moment to respond. “Sometimes, yeah. My brother did it for me, before he left. After that I did it myself.”

“Oh, I see.”

A couple of questions float around Mikleo’s mind. He wants to ask her about Eizen, and more specifically about her life without him, before he became a dragon. He holds his words back, though. Now is not the time to ask them.

Some day, though, he’ll ask, but he needs to give it some time first.

“You’re not telling anyone?”

Mikleo looks up from the book he’s reading. They’re in Marlind’s inn, where nearby there was a resilient hellion causing havoc which they’ve since managed to subdue. Now, Rose sits cross-legged in front of the fireplace, shrugging at Alisha’s question.

“Don’t see a need to,” Rose says. She puts down The Celestial Record, keeping note of the page even though she hasn’t turned it in at least half an hour. “It’ll only cause trouble if people go looking for him, right? As long as they know the world’s at peace, there’s no need to make Sorey’s actions a public affair.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Alisha says, though she sounds uncertain. “It’s a shame, though. No one will ever know of his valiance, of the sacrifice he made for our world.”

“Sure they will,” Rose says easily. “Mikleo’s gonna write a history book or two about it. It just might not come out for a hundred years or so.”

Mikleo gives her an unimpressed look. “I don’t think it will fill two whole volumes, Rose.”

“Sure it will! You’ll be dedicating a whole volume to me, won’t you?” she says with a grin.

“In any case,” Alisha says, “as disappointed as I am that I won’t be able to read Mikleo’s book, I’m glad I lived to witness the events of it happening.”

Mikleo looks down at his lap, subdued. Alisha, just like Rose, is human. It’s something which plagued him with Sorey, and which has began to bother him with the girls, too. They will die, some day. There’s no self-sacrifice for them to make to extend their lifespan. They’ll live as normal humans do, with lives shorter than Mikleo can imagine.

Rose, perhaps sensing Mikleo's thoughts, says, “Yeah. Who cares about being able to read about what happened way back when. It’s better to be able to say you were there when those things happened.”

Alisha smiles. “You’re right. I’ll be forever grateful that I had the chance to journey with two Shepherds, both working their hardest to bring this world to peace.”

“Hey, you talk like you didn’t help at all! People will be talking about you for centuries.”

“Y-you really think so? I’m not sure...”

Mikleo turns his gaze back to his book, though his mind stays locked on their conversation.

Well, so long as Rose and Alisha have no regrets, it’s all he can do to support them until the very end.

One day, years later, Mikleo cuts Rose's hair.

The world is far more peaceful than it had been in their youth, thanks to the hard work of Alisha and Sergei, who kept their countries sane after Sorey made his sacrifice. The air feels purer, nowadays, and it’s rare to find places filled with as much malevolence as the cities used to be.

But there’s still work to do. Mikleo knows in his heart that there’s a long wait ahead of him before the land is wholly purified. At this point, it’s something he’s accepted. All he can do is wait and work his hardest to achieve their dream in the meantime.

Rose is, surprisingly, still the Shepherd. Not that there’s nearly as much work to do as Shepherd now as there once was, but so long as humans produce malevolence, hellions will continue to exist. Whilst Alisha and Sergei work on the roots of the problem, Rose nips the buds of malevolence before they can spread like weeds.

He cards his fingers through strands of vibrant red, which is only a bit longer than it once was, and kept out of the way more often than not. As he lifts his scissors, though, he notices something shining.

“Something wrong?” Rose asks when he hesitates.

“No, nothing,” he responds.

When his scissors wrap around those strands of hair, they take a strand of silver along with them.

Rose only takes on one other Squire in her lifetime.

His name is Tristan. He’s idealistic, that’s for sure. His short, dark hair frames eyes filled with curiosity, ones which search for answers about the wonders of the world. In a sense, he reminds Mikleo of Sorey, though there are more differences than similarities between them. Other than looking nothing alike, his demeanour is more sceptical than sincere. He is genuine in his hopes to follow in the footsteps of his predecessors, though, learning more about the world as he helps to keep it safe.

Though Rose isn’t one for teaching, she manages to show Tristan the ins and outs of being a Shepherd. He soon handles the power of purification without Lailah’s guidance, and eventually he starts taking charge in their battles, allowing Rose time to relax after long days of work.

With his rapid development, it doesn’t surprise Mikleo when Rose announces to the seraphim a year after his becoming her Squire that she’ll be retiring.

“He’s happy to step up as the Shepherd,” she tells them, and the confidence in her gaze makes Mikleo believe her all the more.

Still, with this change comes an abundance of decisions to be made. Tristan has worked hard as the Squire, but he hasn’t gained the power of armatization just yet. Not only that, but Mikleo isn’t sure he wants to continue on this journey as a sub lord. He enjoys travelling more than anything, and being with his friends has given him years of happy memories. But he’s ready to move on, now. There’s more to his dream than purifying hellions, and helping the Shepherds on a journey which has turned into routine hellion clean-up duty will get him nowhere.

When he tells this to Lailah, however, she wears an understanding expression.

“To be entirely honest,” she tells him, “I’m planning on stepping down as Prime Lord, as well.”

“Wait, really?” Mikleo says. “You can do that?”

Lailah nods. “Of course! Even Prime Lords need vacations, right? Besides, I know the perfect candidate to take over for me.”

Mikleo doesn’t know why he expects an explanation, anymore.

In any case, the decision is quickly made: Tristan will soon succeed Rose as the Shepherd, with the seraph Uno taking over as Prime Lord. Lailah will step down and become the Lord of the Land for Ladylake in his place, leaving the other seraphim to do as they please. After all, with the lack of hellions roaming these days, there certainly isn’t the need for a full party of seraphim anymore. It’s time for this Shepherd to make his own journey, where he will find his own companions.

When Rose passes the mantle on to Tristan, and Mikleo hands over the Divine Artifact to Uno, he can only wish them the best of luck.

The last conversation he has with Rose is in a clearing in the Volgran Forest.

She lives in a small town now, known far and wide as a trading outpost for merchants. When she said she’d be retiring, Mikleo should really have guessed she’d continue working in some form; there’s no way she’d give up both her trades as a fighter and a merchant. At least being a merchant is the less dangerous of the two.

With a world spread in front of him, ready to be explored, even now he can’t help returning to visit her every now and then. It would feel strange, not to see her for months on end. And, well, he feels like he’s grown up with Rose, in a way. They’ve known each other since they were both young, after all, and it has been - what, fifty years since they met? He needs to keep better track.

Rose pulls out The Celestial Record from her bag. Mikleo is surprised to see she has it, and intact, too.

“I never returned this to you,” she says, though she doesn’t pass it to him. Instead she lets her hand trace the cover, fiddling with the worn bookmarks sticking out of the top. “But I’m gonna be selfish and ask a favour. Can I pass this on to Tristan?”

Mikleo hums. A part of him wants to refuse, clinging onto the memories held within it and the confession at its end. The part which still aches at the sight of the book is happy to see it go. “I thought you hated that book. To hear you’d actually want someone else to read it is kind of surprising.”

“Aw come on, I got through it eventually!” She elbows him for good measure, and he tries not to focus on how much less force is behind the action than there used to be. “I think this book should live on with the Shepherds. A Shepherd wrote it, and it’s what brought Sorey into being a Shepherd. And I don’t want to admit it, but it’s helped me out a lot, too. I think it’d probably benefit Tristan, and all the Shepherds who come after him.”

Reluctantly, he accepts. “Makes sense. I think Sorey would like that, too.”

“Good!”

She stows the book away, then pulls out a letter. The envelope is already crumpled from age. She passes it to him. On the front, written in a familiar scrawl, is the word, ‘Sorey’.

“You wrote him a letter?” Mikleo says, turning the envelope over in his hands. “That’s not your style.”

Rose laughs. “I know, I know. But I had a lot I wanted to say to him, and he didn’t exactly give me a chance to say it. Pass it on to him for me, will you?”

He tucks the letter away, feeling his heart sink a little with the connotations of it. “Of course.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“You don’t get to call me kid,” Mikleo complains, frowning at her. “We’re the same age.”

“Maybe, but you don’t look anywhere near my age, so I can call you that all I like!”

When she sticks her tongue out at him before bursting into vibrant laughter, he can almost fool himself that they are still both kids, enjoying life together whilst they can.

Her funeral is a quiet affair.

The gravestone stands atop a wind-brushed hilltop.

All Mikleo can think of is how this is only the first friend he’ll outlive.

He stays for a long while, then heads off with the other seraphim, no destination in mind.

(Alisha gives Mikleo a letter for Sorey too, before she passes away. It’s far more well-maintained than Rose’s, kept in pristine condition, and he knows Rose must have made the suggestion to her before Alisha died.

She leaves behind a pair of loving children, the loyalty of the citizens of Hyland and Rolance, and a legacy which Mikleo knows will last for centuries to come.)

After Rose and Alisha die, Mikleo travels alone for a while.

He’s not sure what else to do. Without anything tying him to any place, there’s a whole world waiting for him to explore it. Now is the time when he’ll get to discover everything he and Sorey ever dreamt of seeing. Each place he visits, he notes into his journals, diaries of his travels which span their whole lives. By the time Sorey returns, he swears to himself he’ll have filled at least five volumes.

(Incidentally, he’s already filled two - one with his journeys with Sorey, and the other dedicated to Rose’s time as Shepherd. He wishes she and Alisha were still here to read them.)

The thing with travelling alone, though, is that he has no one to share his discoveries with. He quickly realises, halfway into a shrine to Eumacia in the depths of Westronbolt Gorge, that there’s something inherently uninspiring about exploring a ruin alone.

That doesn’t stop him from venturing through the whole ruin, of course, as well as a couple more. It’s an opportunity to adjust to his surroundings, to think more carefully about how no one is here to hear his theories. Rather than speaking, he learns to put those thoughts into writing, creating discovery logs and making a mental note to talk to Sorey about all of this when he awakens.

(His conscience helpfully reminds him that these ruins may not be standing by the time Sorey awakens. He forces himself to ignore it.)

Eventually, though, he becomes tired. The discoveries he finds don’t enthuse him as much as they once did, and he abandons his adventure halfway through. It is with a heavy heart, of course, but he feels hopeless. How is he supposed to live when the things he enjoys don’t feel worthwhile anymore?

On the way back from a ruin, he bumps into a group of travellers in a caravan, and on a whim, he hops into the carriage.

They’re merchants, not related to the Sparrowfeathers but somewhat reminiscent of them. They fill their journey with lively banter, keeping the atmosphere joyful despite their uneventful surroundings. None of them have enough resonance to see or hear Mikleo, though one of them swears a couple of times that she feels a presence nearby.

The merchants are surprisingly devout, though, and Mikleo feels warm in their company.

(He wonders, fleetingly, if this is why Dezel joined the Windriders. Even before his friend’s death, Dezel must have enjoyed the company of these humans who may not have seen him, but who believed in him all the same. It’s a comforting thought, really. To know he’s being appreciated.)

Part of him regrets leaving, once they reach the merchant town where Rose once lived. But they’re planning on returning into Rolance, and Mikleo wants to go back to Hyland for a little while. Maybe now, he thinks, would be a good time to visit home.

(Probably, he thinks, the cause of this feeling is homesickness. He’s not sure if it’s for Elysia or for something else, though.)

Mikleo doesn’t plan on bumping into Edna.

To be fair, he had no idea she’d be in Marlind when he got there. When he sees her, though, he feels a sense of familiarity, one which is combined with a childish feeling of dread which remains from their adolescent arguments.

“Edna,” he greets her once he reaches her perch in the roots of the Great Tree. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs, twirling her umbrella. For the most part, she looks the same as ever; she still wears the same dress, boots and glove, and her umbrella still holds the normin mascot, which is now just a plushie (or at least, so Mikleo hopes). The only difference is that her hair has grown longer, now reaching below her shoulders, where one of the straps of her dress has a knack for falling down.

“What, can a lady not visit town every once in a while?” she says, arching her brow. “Perhaps I should be asking what a lonely Meebo is doing here.”

He groans. He’d at least hoped she might have dropped the nickname by now. “Just passing through. I’m heading back to Elysia.”

She hums, appraising him. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”

Reaching for the back of his neck, he finds that she’s right. The strands now reach closer to his chin, not unruly but less controlled than he usually lets it get. “Well, so has yours,” he counters.

“My hairdresser decided to wander off on his own. It’s only natural that it would get out of control with such negligence.”

“You could have cut it yourself, you know.”

This time she doesn’t respond, instead hopping down onto solid ground. “The least you could do in return is offer to buy me lunch, you know.”

Mikleo rolls his eyes, but relents. “Fine, whatever.”

They head to a nearby bakery, one of Edna’s choosing, and grab a couple of pastries each. They have to leave their gald on the counter and take their pastries straight from behind the counter, since the bakers don’t have resonance. They’ve both gotten sued to this kind of thing, though. Heading over to the museum, they sit down on a nearby bench, watching as the humans go about their daily lives.

“What brings you so close to the humans, anyway?” Mikleo asks. “I thought you hated them.”

“I did,” Edna says, holding a palmier in her bare hand. “But I can deal with them, now. Besides, I wanted some pastries.”

Humming, Mikleo takes a bite into his Madeleine. The sweet flavour wraps around his tongue. It’s been a long time since he bothered to stop and make something sweet to eat.

“Edna,” he says. “What did you do when Eizen left? Before he became a dragon, I mean.”

For a long moment, Edna stays silent. He thinks she’ll probably leave, or make him drop the question. After all, she’s never been keen on that topic.

In the end, she answers.

“I waited,” she says. “I stayed on Rayfalke and tried to stay busy while hoping he’d come back.”

“You didn’t leave at all?” he asks. “What did you do there all day?”

“I have hobbies,” she says. “I practised fighting, I wrote letters, I cooked. Sometimes I’d scare earth-dwellers away if they started coming up the mountain.”

Part of Mikleo can’t help but ache, knowing that he could be doing the same thing as her right now, biding his time without any action.

Perhaps Edna notices his mood, and she pokes him with her umbrella. It’s gentler than usual, which takes him more by surprise than her poking him at all.

“You shouldn’t do what I did,” she says. “It’s a pretty dumb thing to do. Plus Sorey wouldn’t want you to just wait around for him to come back.”

He turns to her, a rush of gratitude filling her. It’s kind of weird, but he smiles regardless. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Edna.”

She turns away, eating the last of her pastry. “It’s nothing.”

When she stands up to leave a few minutes later, she puts her umbrella up, not facing him as she speaks. “You can grow your hair out, by the way. He’ll recognise you.”

Edna leaves before he can say anything in response.

In a darkened room, the only sound is the scratch of pen against paper, smooth lines of ink creating word after word, filling pages in no time. The candlelight flickers, its glow barely reaching the desk, but it’s enough. Mikleo’s eyes have gotten used to the dark.

The curtains flutter by the window, the outside world visible but darker still than the room he’s in. A breeze brushes his face, making his light falter for a moment.

Mikleo looks up, his eyes meeting the window.

‘Oh,’ he thinks, ‘it’s already night.’

His hand hovers over the paper, pen poised and ready to continue. But now he’s distracted, and he can feel the weight of his eyes dropping closed. When was the last time he slept? He can’t recall. Maybe it was before he returned to Elysia… How long ago was that? What date is it?

Mikleo never intended for time to pass him by. Especially not knowing that that’s exactly what’s happening to Sorey; that only makes him more conscious, to know that Sorey would be disappointed to see him like this. But Mikleo can’t help it. Once he got home and sat down to work, he became so focused that time got the better of him. Without the biological needs of a human to take into account, he can continue working for as long as he likes.

Doing so isn’t living, of course. That’s what aggravates Mikleo the most, knowing that doing this means he’s not living his life, the way he promised he would.

He lays down his pen, forcing himself to stretch tired arms over his head. His muscles feel weak from lack of use, and he berates himself for not thinking to get up and stretch at all. Still, it’s late now, and he’s too tired to exercise at this time. He heads through into the bedroom, shucking off his clothes and burrowing under the covers of the bed, trying to ignore the scent of dust tickling his nostrils. Sorey’s scent has long since disappeared from the house, but the memory of it calms his mind.

For the first time in centuries, he falls asleep without trouble, entering a dreamless void moments after his head hits the pillow.

Time passes him by even more quickly when he’s on the move.

Mikleo spends the next few centuries travelling the continent, researching and exploring unknown ruins, recording all of his discoveries for future reference. He comes across a few seraphim as he travels, who help him learn more and refine his artes. Occasionally, he finds one of his old companions, who he stays with for a while, catching up on the time they’ve been apart.

It’s only when Mikleo hair reaches his forearms and his writing fills four volumes that he speaks to a human.

He’s in a forest near a human village, gathering herbs and other supplies for his travels. Though he rarely needs healing items anymore, he can’t help his own need to be prepared for any situation, no matter what. Besides, the herbs will taste great in food if he doesn’t use them for medicinal purposes.

The young girl finds him near the edge of the forest. Her age is far younger than Mikleo can imagine being anymore, and she beams at him without understanding his surprise.

“Hi!” she says. “What’s your name?”

“You can see me?” he asks without thinking.

Her nodding is filled with enthusiasm, and his heart clenches, the faded memory of Sorey’s grin returning to his mind. “Of course I can, silly! Why wouldn’t I be able to see you?”

For a long moment, he stays silent in awe.

He spent eighteen years of his life with Sorey, dreaming of a day when humans might be able to see him and not remember a time when that wasn’t possible. Now, he’s seeing that reality come to light in front of him.

This girl and her words make his heart lift.

Without restraining his smile, he says, “My name is Mikleo. I’m a seraph.”

Her eyes light up, bright azure filled with the same awe he feels. “Really? My friends are gonna be so jealous when they hear I met a seraph!”

Looking at this girl, for the first time, Mikleo doesn’t think about human mortality.

He looks at her and he sees the future. He sees his and Sorey’s dream living on, and he feels at home.

The next time he sees Lailah is when they visit Camlann together.

She’s able to travel a lot more now, even though she’s still working as the Lord of the Land. Since so much more of the land has been purified, Ladylake doesn’t need the constant blessing of a seraph. It gives her a chance to stretch her legs and see more of the world, which Mikleo is glad for. Ten years had seemed like a long enough time back when she’d first been waiting for a Shepherd to appear.

When she sees him, she spends a good few minutes hugging him, and even longer enthusing about his newly grown-out hair, which he’s now taken to setting in a high ponytail, not unlike hers except far wavier by nature. After she calms down, they greet the Elysians. Their village has grown into a larger town now, with a few humans in their midst, and it’s comforting to see how warmly the humans welcome another seraph as a visitor.

They stop by Gramps’ grave on their way to Camlann. It doesn’t look at all weathered by age, something which Mikleo can only guess is down to seraphic artes. His pipe remains on the grave, cleaned regularly by the seraphim to keep it from harm. After all, this is one of the only things they have left of him.

By this point, Mikleo has long since accepted Gramps’ death. It was something he and Sorey had to do, and though it pains him to think about it, he knows Gramps was proud of them. If Gramps is somewhere seeing the way the world has grown since then, he knows he’d be proud of them for that, too.

Camlann is only a walk away from there, and they spend most of that time catching up on their time apart. Lailah talks of her days in Ladylake, people-watching and listening to prayers. She tells him of the people with resonance, a growing population who often come to greet her, thanking her for her hard work. She tells him of a girl with blond hair and green eyes who reminded her of Alisha, reading a book on the steps of the sanctuary. She tells him about the current Shepherd, who is practically a part-timer compared to Sorey and Rose, but who still serves a vital purpose in this world.

She tells him about the days she spends gazing at the sky, smiling fondly on the memories of their past.

They head into the village, gazing down upon the crater where Sorey rests. His light is as bright as ever, burning gently through the sky, filling it with purity. Flowers have since grown around his resting place, surely aided by the artes of certain earth seraphim. Camlann has become a beautiful place; Mikleo can only hope that once Sorey awakens, they can rebuild the Origin town of peace that Michael wanted to create in the first place.

He tells Lailah this, and her eyes glimmer with emotion.

“I’m sure he’d have wanted that,” she says.

“Wasn’t it hard?” he asks after a moment, as they sit at the edge of the crater. “When Michael left?”

“It was,” Lailah says, holding a hand over her heart. “But I didn’t want him to feel burdened. He was the Shepherd from such a young age, I wanted him to live a normal life, too.”

Her face forms a smile, though, and she looks over to him with eyes filled with hope.

“But Sorey brought peace back into the world,” she says. “Now, we are living in the world which Michael envisioned, and which you have brought into reality. I can’t find it in myself to regret any of that.”

Mikleo looks down. “You’re really strong, Lailah.”

Shaking her head, she says, “Don’t discount your own efforts, though. You’ve been incredibly strong, Mikleo. I’m sure it will pay off soon.”

He can’t find the words to express his gratitude to her, so in the end, he simply turns back to Sorey’s light.

“I hope you’re right.”

It feels better than he expects it to.

Though it’s not a rush of euphoria or an overwhelming excitement, it’s still a breathless kind of joy, a blossoming warmth in his chest, a hope which feels like home.

When he feels Sorey’s hand grasp his, pulling him out of the darkness, he can’t help but grasp on tight, a new resolve forming in his heart.

Sorey pulls him close, and he can feel his skin thrumming with newfound power, an energy Mikleo has lived with for so long that it’s strange to feel coursing through another person. His hair tickles Mikleo’s face as they hug, neither wanting to let the other go.

Mikleo can’t even remember how long it’s been, anymore. They’ve both changed, but the time that has passed doesn’t seem to matter in this moment, as they connect once more. Two halves of a whole, they murmur shared words of affection with teary eyes.

They brush noses, pouring laughter into each other’s lips, relief and comfort and the feeling of coming home emanating through them.

Sorey is back, and they’ve got all the time in the world to make the most of it.

#sormikweek2018 #tales of zestiria #toz #sormik #tales of zestiria fanfiction #PLEASE JUST TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME #i've been working on this for far too long #it was never meant to be this long #and i'm not entirely happy with it #but i've run out of time and i'll probably never publish it if i don't do it now #so i hope someone out there likes these #please enjoy all my headcanons rolled into one giant mess #also you know what i can't do? titles

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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A Moment

Title: A Moment Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 3,055 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day one - Joy/Sadness (Rain) Notes: i can't believe it's already sormikweek again! it's been a whole year since i posted my first toz fic. honestly, i can't believe it. anyway, this one came from watching too much Say Yes to the Dress with my mum. enjoy!

Summary: Sorey has been waiting for the right moment. The weather doesn't feel like co-operating with him.

Also on: AO3

Sorey has been thinking about this for a long time.

Maybe it’s only because he’s prone to over-thinking, but he feels as though every detail needs to be perfect. With his friends giving him “advice” on how best to go through with this, too, he keeps coming up with new ways in which this might be entirely messed up. If he could ask Mikleo, this would surely go exactly to plan.

Except that’s the point: he can’t ask Mikleo.

Mikleo is the one he’s proposing to, after all.

Sorey is trying to keep it on the down-low. No big parties, no fireworks, no extravagant professions of love in the form of Asgardian sonnets. It’ll only be him and Mikleo, alone together, and a moment. Hopefully the right moment.

Sorey doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t the right moment.

He and Mikleo have waited long enough, in his opinion, to make things official. In the words of Rose, they’ve practically been married since birth, but it would be nice to be able to tell people they are married. Having a “lover”, he’s found, has connotations of the relationship being a temporary one. With marriage, there’s an assumption that the couple will stay together, through thick and thin, for the rest of their lives.

(Of course, that’s not always how it works. It would be much simpler if his view of marriage was one shared by the world, but the world is complicated. In any case, it’s the sentiment that matters most. Mikleo will appreciate that.)

Besides he’s done his research. In his youth, he read every book in Elysia and coerced every piece of information from the Encyclopaedia of Gramps. Now a young adult, all he wants is to spend the rest of his life at Mikleo’s side, no matter what.

A wedding, rings, vows - once he asks the question, it will be real. Part of him can’t wait, despite himself.

He prepares in advance. He takes Lailah and Rose to help him pick out a ring, the former because she’s known them the longest, and the latter because she has a good eye for quality. After a long day of trawling through every jewellery shop in Ladylake, Sorey is ready to suggest they leave it for the day when he sees it: a beautiful gold band inlaid with sapphires, the gold swirling around the gem to highlight it. The ring is subtle, elegant and refined, perfect for a man who fits the same description.

It rests in a white box at the bottom of his bedside drawer, underneath all the stuff Mikleo has no need to go through, burning a hole in his consciousness.

He’s already decided where he’ll do it, too: near the Mt Mabinogio Ruins in Elysia, where the sky expands endlessly and they both treasure memories of their lives up until now. The excuse will be that they’re visiting Gramps. Since they live in Ladylake now, they don’t see him as often as they once did. Gramps is in on it, and he’s promised not to interfere.

They’ll go out to the cliffside, watching the sun slowly set, and Sorey will turn to Mikleo.

Then he’ll do it.

At that point, all he can hope is that Mikleo wants the same thing he does: a life spent at each other’s sides, with matching titles to prove their love. Of course, he can’t help the shred of doubt in his head, making him wonder if Mikleo would want such commitment in his life.

Well, he’s going to find out eventually. He’s not going to leave it any longer.

Taking a deep breath, Sorey goes to ask Mikleo if he wants to visit Gramps.

Elysia doesn’t change much over the course of a year. Most of the time it’s beautifully sunny, with a calm breeze and a cooler climate than the cities beneath the mountains. They don’t get much snow in winter, and the heat isn’t excessive in summer. It’s a place of moderation and peace. Sorey couldn’t be happier to be back.

Except, when they arrive in Elysia, dark grey clouds fill the summer skies. Mikleo groans, his hands clenching the steering wheel of their shared car.

(Gramps got it for them, before they left for university. Sorey’s surprised it’s even lasted this long. Then again, he can only thank Zaveid for his help repairing it every time it breaks.)

“A summer storm?” Mikleo says. “In Elysia?”

“It’s unexpected, that’s for sure,” Sorey says, his hopes fading.

Mikleo pulls up outside Gramps’ house, and they head inside with their luggage, greeting Gramps at the door.

“I’ll take the luggage through to our room,” Mikleo says, taking their shared suitcase from Sorey and dragging it out of sight.

Gramps turns to Sorey. “When do you plan on asking him?”

Sorey bites his lip. With the weather like this, both he and Gramps know it won’t be any time soon. “When the rain lets up,” he says, though he’s not sure when the rain will even begin to fall.

Mikleo returns before Gramps has the chance to reply.

They enjoy a delicious meal together, catching up on the time that has passed since they last saw each other properly. Despite Sorey’s original plans being delayed, he can’t deny that it’s nice even just seeing and talking to Gramps again. That’s half the reason he’d wanted to do this in Elysia. This town is filled with memories and people they treasure. Getting to see them again is like killing two birds with one stone.

But even later, once they all head to bed, he can’t erase his worries from his mind. He sits on the edge of the bed nearest to the window, gazing out into the dark grey sky as Mikleo changes into his nightclothes behind him. Outside, the trees shake with the wind, bent over with the force of trying to stand against it. They seem a lot more tenacious than he feels, right now.

“Sorey.”

He turns to see Mikleo at the other side of the bed. Mikleo’s gaze does not waver, made harder than usual by concern.

Pulling his lips into a strained smile, Sorey says, “What’s up?”

Mikleo, of course, cannot be fooled by Sorey trying to act natural. “That’s what I should be asking you. There’s been something on your mind since we got here.”

There’s no getting out of this one. Sorey swallows a lump in his throat, then shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried about the storm, is all.”

For a moment, Mikleo stands his ground, but he soon softens. His voice gains a teasing tone. “What, are you scared?”

“Huh? No way!” Sorey laughs. “Although, if you want to hold my hand to keep me safe, I wouldn’t say no.”

The Mikleo of a few years ago, back when they were awkward teens with less experience in the romance department, would have blushed and stuttered in a way that Sorey always found hilariously adorable. Nowadays, the gorgeous laugh he gives is far more satisfying.

Instead of holding his hand, Mikleo moves to sit on the bed, cupping his cheek to pull him in for a long, slow kiss. Now when his heart beats faster, it definitely isn’t a bad feeling.

“Seriously though,” Mikleo says when they part. “If there’s something up, you can tell me.”

“I know.” Sorey presses his forehead against Mikleo’s. Somewhere along the line, his hand has become caught in Mikleo’s hair, and he strokes through it, happy to find it loose from its usual high ponytail. “I’m just worried in case something happens, like if someone’s roof caves in, or if there’s a rock slide. It’s nothing.”

Mikleo lets out an exasperated puff of breath. “That won’t happen. Even if it turns out to be a big storm, everyone will be okay.”

As Mikleo pulls him in for another kiss, all Sorey can hope is that he is right.

Unfortunately, as it turns out, that quote about ‘the best laid plans’ turns out to be entirely right. Over the next couple of days, the ring burns a hole in his pocket as the rain continues to fall, grey clouds continuing their descent over the village. In addition, they’re both swept away by so many commitments that Sorey hardly sees Mikleo during those days. The only times they see each other are the evenings, when they sit down for dinner together with Gramps and fall asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms.

With their visit only being planned as a week-long event, when five days pass with no action on Sorey’s part, he can’t help feeling like he’s running out of time. If he doesn’t find the time to ask Mikleo soon, he’s not sure he’ll ever work up the courage. The one thing he doesn’t want is for him to let this opportunity slip out of his grasp.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t sleep on the fifth evening. After tossing and turning for a while, he heads out into the night, alone. A cold wind bites at his skin, but it’s refreshing after the heat of his stressful thoughts. Besides, there’s no point in going back to get a jacket; the skies, though they still hold dark clouds, don’t look ready to rain down upon him just yet. If he can have a few minutes just to think this through and to make a new plan, maybe tomorrow he’ll have the courage to take Mikleo to one side and finally make his move.

The cliffside near the ruins is silent when he gets there. Not a soul is in sight, which allows him to relax for a while. Though he can’t see the vast expanse of stars, it feels nostalgic to come back here, knowing how many times he stood here with Mikleo throughout their childhood and adolescence.

A smile forms without thought on his lips at the memory of those times. He remembers lying with Mikleo on this cliff, cloud-gazing and dreaming of the huge world which lay outside their home village. Once, when they were twelve, they spent a night here with their favourite book, debating about the ruins nearby until their eyes couldn’t stay open any longer.

When they were fifteen, they’d shared their first kiss here, at the break of dawn. Mikleo had woken up earlier than usual, and Sorey also woke up, hearing him leave. He followed him here and joined him, and their tiredness made their emotions flow easily, breaking through the barriers of worry they’d unknowingly built.

Sorey lets out a long breath, closing his eyes as the wind envelops him, comforting him. It reminds him that everything will be alright, in the end. All he has to do is find that courage that brought him together with Mikleo in the first place and use it to take their relationship forward.

“You’re up late.”

The sudden sound of Mikleo’s voice surprises him. He turns around sharply, noticing his boyfriend standing a few feet away, his long hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Though he’s wearing his pyjamas, the jacket he wears over the top of them is far more sensible than the one Sorey left back at the house before heading out. Judging by the goose bumps forming on his arms, maybe he should have brought it after all.

“Mikleo,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“When you sleep next to someone for as long as we have, you tend to notice when the other person disappears,” Mikleo says with a shrug. “What’s wrong?”

Mikleo has always been far too perceptive of Sorey’s emotions. Though it’s part of what has made their relationship work for so long, he can’t help but feel a little silly that this situation has occurred.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says. It’s not technically a lie, so it rolls off his tongue easily. “I thought the fresh air might help.”

“If all you needed was fresh air, you didn’t need to come all the way out here,” Mikleo points out.

“But you knew I’d be here,” Sorey says.

For a moment, Mikleo pauses. Letting his eyes fall, he says, “I just had a feeling, that’s all.”

With a rush of affection for his partner, Sorey heads over to stand by Mikleo, letting his hands fall on his waist. He touches their foreheads together, and their noses brush, cool against each other’s skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to sleep better now.”

Mikleo smirks. “You might, yeah. But if you start grinding your teeth, you’ll be giving me a hard time.”

“Hey! There are plenty of better ways to give you a hard time.”

“Like what?”

A moment after asking the question, Mikleo seems to realise that it was the wrong one to ask, but it’s too late. Sorey grins impishly, and before Mikleo can push him away, he digs his fingers into Mikleo’s ribs, tickling the sensitive skin beneath his clothes. Mikleo squirms, trying to fight back, his own hands darting out to prod at Sorey’s abdomen. Even in tickle fights, they’re evenly matched, and Mikleo manages to get a few good attacks in there. Before Sorey realises it, he’s lost the upper hand, and he surrenders his laughter to Mikleo’s touch.

Suddenly, Mikleo stops, hovering by Sorey’s hips. “What’s this?” he asks breathlessly.

His hand hovers over Sorey’s pocket, where a box presses against the fabric, poking out in a completely unsubtle fashion.

“Er,” Sorey says succinctly. “It’s nothing.”

Mikleo looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “If it’s nothing, you won’t mind telling me what it is. Right?”

Sorey averts his gaze, his teeth grazing his lip. “Okay, it’s something, but I don’t know if now is the time…”

“Sorey,” Mikleo says, grabbing his attention with a harsh tone. “If it’s important, just tell me. We don’t hide things from each other, do we?”

Those words scratch an old wound in Sorey’s heart, and he remembers the last time Mikleo said them to him. Back then, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t make Mikleo say them again.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell you.”

He stands back, putting about a foot of distance between them.

“I meant to tell you this sooner, but the weather had other plans,” he says, fumbling in his pocket for the box. “Don’t freak out.”

Mikleo doesn’t answer, though the way his mouth stays open, ready to say something but never voicing his thoughts, tells him all he needs to know about Mikleo’s expectations for this.

But this is it. Now is the time.

They’re near the ruins but the sky is cloudy. The stars are hidden but they are alone. This moment exists for them.

It’s not perfect, but in a way, it is.

Grasping the box, Sorey lowers himself onto one knee.

“Being with you is pretty neat,” he says, pulling the box out of his pocket. “I want to stay with you for good. And this is probably the best way of doing that.”

It takes a moment of fumbling, but he gets the box open. When he holds it out, green eyes meet violet.

“Will you marry me?”

The moment those words come out of his mouth, a shower of rain comes from nowhere. Immediately they are both soaked, and Sorey hurries to close the ring box before it gets damaged-

Except a pair of cool, pale hands stop him, holding it open.

He looks up to find Mikleo right in front of him, eyes soft with emotion. There’s water in his eyes, and Sorey knows it’s not from the rain.

“Yes,” Mikleo says with a laugh. “Of course I’ll marry you, you dummy.”

Sorey feels weightless.

“Really?” he says in breathless disbelief.

Mikleo rolls his eyes and grabs his face, pressing a rain-soaked kiss to his lips. The brief taste is addicting, and Sorey tries to chase after him, craving his warmth. Mikleo pulls away before he can return the kiss. “I could hardly give you any other answer. Being with you is pretty neat, after all.”

The re-iteration of Sorey’s sloppy proposal makes him laugh, and Mikleo’s laughter joins his, their joy floating into the sky.

Their lips come together once more, the contact heating them up as the cool rain continues to crash around them, a symphony of nature coming to crown this joyous moment. In a way it feels fitting that it’s happened like this - Mikleo’s always been partial to rain, after all.

“I love you,” Sorey says when their lips part.

Mikleo’s grin, paired with the shining wonder in his eyes, is a beautiful sight to behold. “I love you too.”

It takes a few minutes for Sorey to remember the ring, and though the rain makes it troublesome to handle, he slides it onto Mikleo’s right ring finger, a perfect fit. At this moment, it feels all the more real. His heart swells with emotion, and he feels heat prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Similarly, Mikleo looks at the ring with a swirl of happiness and disbelief in his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek. When Sorey kisses the ring on Mikleo’s finger, he covers his mouth with his free hand whilst the other shakes in Sorey’s grasp.

“I’m so glad you asked,” he says when he gets his breath back, making Sorey meet his gaze once more. “I’ve thought about it a few times, but I could never work up the courage.”

Sorey’s heart melts. “You thought about proposing to me? You know I’d have said yes, right?”

Mikleo puts a hand into his hair, ruffling it affectionately. “I do now, obviously. But you must know how it feels.”

“Yeah, I put it off for a while. But it’s worth it.” Sorey stands back up, pulling Mikleo close. His left hand still holds Mikleo’s right one, his thumb grazing over the gold band. “Now I get to see you happy, with this ring on your finger, and to know we’ll be together from now on, too.”

With a happy hum, Mikleo surges forward to capture his lips again. With the two standing, drenched to the bone but more buoyant than a ship on open waters, Sorey can only smile.

There couldn’t have been a better, more fitting moment than this.

#sormikweek2018 #tales of zestiria #toz #sormik #tales of zestiria fanfiction #ahhukighdjkdfn!!!!#it's finally sormikweek again!!!#i've been kind of afk since my last fic in may oops sorry #but i'll be posting every day this week because of course i am #i hope you guys like these fics omg

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years ago

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Hello everyone, it’s that time of year again! I’m excited to announce that this year, Sormik Week will be from August 12th to August 18th!

☆★☆ Prompts: ☆★☆

“I forget who said it… that there are as many emotions as stars in the sky.”

☆ Day 1, August 12th: Joy/Sadness ★ Alternate: Rain

☆ Day 2, August 13th: Loneliness/Community ★ Alternate: Snowfall

☆ Day 3, August 14th: Fear/Excitement ★ Alternate: Windy

☆ Day 4, August 15th:: Insecurity/Confidence ★ Alternate: Clouds

☆ Day 5, August 16th: Envy/Pride ★ Alternate: Fog

☆ Day 6, August 17th: Anger/Humor ★ Alternate: Thunder

☆ Day 7, August 18th: Contentment/Passion ★ Alternate: Sunshine

Everyone is invited to post Sormik fanworks under the tag #sormikweek2018. You can use the prompts as inspiration, but you absolutely aren’t bound to them. Just have fun!

All entries tagged #sormikweek2018 will be reblogged here! Please consider reblogging this post to spread the word.

A million thanks to @moulimelo for this wonderful artwork!

Click here for some basic information about ship weeks and feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions. Hope to see everyone there!

#yo i'm very late in reblogging this but!!!!!#i'll be posting each day for this again this year #i'm really looking forward to posing my fics!!#the first one will be up momentarily lol #tales of zestiria #sormik #reblog

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Invitation

Title: Invitation Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 4,548 Pairings: sormik, onesided mikleo/uno Summary: The same thing happens every year. Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts. This year, however, things are different.

Notes: I'm supposed to be working on editing a longfic oops but one day I really felt like writing something else. I found a writing prompt I liked and put a twist on it, and this came about. I hope you enjoy the result!

Prompt: Both A and B are close friends, and they make a promise each year that if neither of them get a date to the prom they would go together. This year, A’s friend tells them that they got rejected by B because B said they already had a date. But when A asks B if they have a date, they say “No, I guess I’m going with you this year.”

Also on: AO3

The same thing happens every year.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. It’s the biggest celebration in the kingdom, and Sorey always convinces Mikleo to attend, even despite Mikleo’s lack of care for dances in general. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts.

Five years and six broken hearts later, this is still a tradition for them. When Mikleo thinks it might be time to end it, he remembers how none of those six people have come to resent Sorey, despite him having broken up with five of them after their nights together at the Midsummer’s Ball.

Sorey probably doesn’t realise he’s even broken the sixth person’s heart. But that’s alright. Mikleo will just keep repairing it each year, allowing his hopes to rise even for a day or two, before the inevitable confession comes from Sorey.

‘Someone asked me to the Midsummer’s Ball,’ he’ll say.

And every year, Mikleo will keep his feelings to himself, nodding with a blank expression. ‘I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good evening.’

For the past five years, Mikleo has gone to the ball alone. It’s not a fact that hurts him in any way - in fact, he hardly ever feels like he’s attending alone. When he’s not surrounded by local friends, like Rose and Lailah, he’s third-wheeling Sorey and his date of the evening, though not intentionally.

Last year, it had been a pretty stranger in a blush pink dress, her brunette hair decorated with yellow carnations. She reminded Mikleo of Neapolitan ice cream, and she seemed just as sweet, when Sorey introduced her to him. They had looked good together, too, but evidently the feelings there had not been mutual. At the night’s end, Mikleo saw the girl leaving, alone, with a pained smile on her face. Sorey, on the other hand, wore a regretful expression. The two didn’t go out together again.

Though it feels like a thorn through his heart each time Sorey accepts an invitation, he tries to be as supportive as possible. Honestly, he hopes one day Sorey will find someone he’d like to stay with even after the ball. Even if that person isn’t him, he’ll be happy so long as Sorey is happy.

That’s what he tells himself, at the very least.

But he can’t help the feelings in his heart, can’t help the love he’s felt for Sorey since the third year, when he finally understood why it hurt to hear that Sorey had accepted an invitation again.

It had started as a casual tradition, but now it’s a yearly reminder of how little of a chance Mikleo has of his feelings being reciprocated. It’s a yearly exercise in his loyalty to his friend.

The Midsummer’s Ball is his grounding moment - the night he remembers his place, when it is the most crucial time for him to hide his feelings behind a mask.

Sorey can never know Mikleo is in love with him. If he does, Mikleo knows he will never get to go to the ball with him.

Or so he thinks.

A few nights before the Midsummer’s Ball, everything is coming together. Decorations of flowers and lanterns pop up in the town square, lining the streets toward the Royal Gardens where the main event will take place. The invitations are sent out, a sprig of lavender attached to the seal, beautiful cursive ink detailing the time and place of the event, all signed by Princess Alisha herself.

Both Sorey and Mikleo receive an invitation, as always. With them both being young nobles, not high in rank but close enough with the princess that their friendship earns them status, it’s only natural that they would be invited. Some years, Mikleo wishes Alisha would save him the trouble and not send him an invitation at all. If she did that, he wouldn’t have to watch Sorey dance with someone else again.

At least he’ll be able to see his friends at the dance. It is that fact which he consoles himself with. It’s not often they get to see Alisha, after all, since she’s so busy with her royal duties.

Except this year, as he relaxes in his garden, the sound of footsteps catches him off-guard. He glances over to see a familiar figure on his garden path, heading toward him.

“Good afternoon, Mikleo,” Alisha says, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

“Alisha,” Mikleo says, setting the book he’d been reading aside. “This is a surprise. You’re not busy with preparations for the ball?”

“I had a moment to spare, so I thought I might pay you a visit,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. “I must also admit that I’d hoped to find you to ask for some solace on something.”

Mikleo feels a hint of concern run through him, and he turns to pay her proper attention. “Is something wrong?”

Surprisingly, Alisha gives a little laugh, shaking her head. “It’s a trivial matter, I must admit, but I do not know who else to talk to.”

“What happened?” Mikleo asks.

Alisha takes in a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “For a year or so now, I’ve convinced myself that I have feelings for a certain person. However, when I asked him to accompany me to the ball, his response puzzled me.”

Though he’s curious, Mikleo refrains from asking the identity of this person. After all, it’s Alisha’s private business, not his. “What did he say?”

“He told me he already has a date,” Alisha says. “But then he asked why I invited him. Once I confessed my intentions to him, he seemed surprised, and told me he never thought I would have feelings for him. It was when he said that that I began to wonder - have I been wrong about my feelings all this time?”

“I must admit, I’m not sure why you thought I’d be the best person to ask about this,” Mikleo says. “I’m not much experienced in this kind of thing. Still, do you think you were wrong?”

Alisha’s eyes meet his and she sighs. “I’m not sure. I respect him and am grateful for his friendship, to be sure. Perhaps the pressure of my family telling me to search for a husband has made me think that any male friend I have might be a potential candidate.”

Mikleo nods sagely. Since she will turn eighteen this year and be of marrying age, he can see why she’d be concerned about that kind of thing. “Did you want to kiss him at all? Or to court him in any other way?”

At his words, Alisha looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t believe I’ve thought much of doing that with anyone, to be honest.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t think you really had feelings for him,” Mikleo says.

An expression of relief crosses Alisha’s face, and her shoulders relax. “That would make sense. Sorey must have noticed that, then.”

Mikleo blinks. “Sorey? Did you ask him about this first?”

“Oh, I didn’t say before,” Alisha says, a light pink crossing her cheeks. “Sorey is the one whom I asked to the ball.”

Things begin to fall into place for him at that moment. The first thing is a wave of relief at the thought that, though Alisha thought she may have liked Sorey, that didn’t end up being the case. His second thought, however, strikes a little harder.

‘Sorey already has a date to the ball’.

He expected as much, but it would have been nice to hear it from Sorey’s mouth. It’s harder to hide his heartbreak from someone who he doesn’t know quite so well.

Perhaps noticing his reaction, Alisha bites her lip. “It only happened an hour or so ago, though, so I suppose it’s not a surprise that Sorey hasn’t had a chance to tell you, yet.”

“I suppose not,” Mikleo says quietly.

Even though it hurts now to hear it, at least he’ll be able to keep a straight face when Sorey breaks it to him again, later on.

For now, he’ll bear this pain in his heart and do his best to move on. After all, he doesn’t know what he expected, really. It’s the same thing every year.

Sorey always goes to the ball with someone who is not Mikleo.

It’s not that Mikleo never gets invited to the ball. In fact, he usually receives almost as many invitations as Sorey, though the number has been dwindling over the past couple of years, as rumours of his reputation have gotten out.

The key difference between Sorey and Mikleo is that where Sorey always accepts invitations, Mikleo always refuses them.

For the first three years, his refusal was simpler. He never felt comfortable dancing with someone he didn’t know well, and he didn’t want to accept an invitation from someone who only wanted the comfort of his status. More recently, however, as his feelings have changed, his refusal has become indication of that. His first thought when someone asks him to the ball nowadays is not that they are a stranger, but that they are not the one person he wants to ask him out.

Of course, he knows how childish this is. Even knowing Sorey has a date, that Sorey will never not have a date, he always refuses any chance to have a date himself.

The day after his conversation with Alisha, Mikleo bumps into a young viscount on the riverside path. His hair frames the soft lines of his jaw and his blue eyes are surprisingly warm. When Viscount Uno asks him to join him in a walk by the river, Mikleo accepts.

When, after an hour of pleasant conversation and taking in the nature, Uno asks Mikleo to the dance, Mikleo accepts.

It’s with half a heavy heart that he does so, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. After all, if there’s no chance of him ever attending the ball with the one he truly wants to go with, he might as well attend with someone else, and try to move on from his unrequited feelings.

When they part, Mikleo tries to feel optimistic, despite the lingering regret in the back of his throat.

Mikleo doesn’t see Sorey until the night before the ball.

It’s not that he’s trying to delay the inevitable - no matter how little he wants to hear those words from Sorey’s mouth, he really has been drowning in work recently, thanks to his uncle’s latest research trip. Seriously, how that man thinks he can continue shirking off his duties onto his nephew, he’ll never know.

To be truthful, Mikleo doesn’t want to have to tell Sorey that he also already has a date to the dance. He doesn’t want to see Sorey being happy for him, to hear his congratulations, to hear him suggest that they could have a double date, if things go well. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if things go well, both for Sorey and his date, and for Mikleo with Uno.

But then Sorey turns up at his house that night, wearing his casual clothing and suggesting they go on a walk around the gardens, and Mikleo’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. He forgets his worries as he nods his acceptance.

The gardens at night feel almost magical. Some of the flowers close up under the moonlight, but others flourish, their petals glowing an ethereal white. Fireflies fill the air, and a calm breeze rustles the leaves on the trees. If he didn’t know better, this moment might feel almost romantic - especially as Sorey turns to face him once they reach Mikleo’s favourite part of the garden, near a small pond filled with carp and lily-pads.

“About this year’s ball,” Sorey says, his voice as light as can be. “You remember our promise, right?”

Mikleo’s heart clenches in pain, but he keeps an even tone. “Of course I do.”

Sorey’s green eyes shine as he says, “No one asked me this year.”

At this moment, Mikleo’s heart tears in two.

He feels a mixture of emotions welling up inside of him, a flurry of joy and sadness and bitter regret and confusion all fighting for dominance, leaving him slack-mouthed and with only one coherent thought: ‘Not like this, please, not now, not when I’ve already—’

Perhaps Sorey notices the horror in Mikleo’s expression, as his own brows furrow in concern. “Mikleo? What’s wrong?”

Mikleo’s voice is weaker than he’d like when he finally urges it from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Someone already asked me.”

For a long moment, Sorey looks only at him, emotions flitting past his eyes, too fast for Mikleo to read. When he speaks, his own voice is just as quiet as Mikleo’s. “And you said yes?”

Bitter regret dances on Mikleo’s tongue, and it’s all he can do to nod.

“Oh,” Sorey says. “I see.”

All Mikleo wants to do is to pull Sorey close to him, to apologise a thousand times, to find Uno immediately and take back his acceptance.

But before Mikleo can think even to apologise, Sorey moulds his expression into a forced smile, one which doesn’t completely mask the pain hiding behind it.

“I’m sure you’ll have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mikleo.”

With that, Sorey takes off, leaving Mikleo alone in the garden with the soft moonlight and the feeling of defeat.

Mikleo’s first instinct is that this feels wrong.

Dressing himself for the ball, taking time to comb his hair and to place his circlet beneath it, barely visible except as a glint in the light. Pinning an anemone to the place over his heart in celebration of a festival of flowers, hoping no one knows its meaning. Taking Uno’s arm when he comes to meet him, walking on his right and feeling imbalanced.

But there’s no going back now. He’s already made this mistake, and now he must see it through to the end.

The Midsummer’s Ball is as grand as ever. Ivy trails around the arch leading into the gardens, the sound of a string quartet playing in the distance. Lanterns light up the evening sky, and the gardens themselves are filled with blooming flowers, all cultivated for this night. Many people are already gathered in the square, laughing and drinking and generally being merry. In the distance, he can see Rose’s bright red hair tilt backward as she laughs with a tall man who Mikleo doesn’t recognise. He wishes he could go up to them and chat casually, like he does every year.

This year, however, he is at the side of an almost stranger, who leads him to the refreshment table and offers him a drink. Mikleo declines the wine, already sick to his stomach without the influence of alcohol. Instead, he takes a glass of water, sipping at it as Uno makes small talk.

He could have been with Sorey, right now. Instead of making tedious conversation about how nice the ball is and how well everyone is dressed and how much time it must have taken to set everything up, he could have been laughing at one of Sorey’s jokes, fixing his messy hair, dancing with him.

It’s a vindictive thought, but he could be having a much better night, if only he hadn’t gotten ahead of himself.

Of course, he can’t put all the blame on himself - it’s Sorey who lied to Alisha about having a date, and who put the idea into Mikleo’s head that there was no hope again this year. It’s Sorey who should have told him sooner.

But it’s Sorey who should be by his side right now, too.

“Mikleo?” Uno says, lightly touching Mikleo’s arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Mikleo chokes out, shying away from his touch. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you’d like to dance,” Uno says, glancing over to the main square for a moment, to where a crowd of couples are already spinning together. “If you’re not feeling well, though-”

“Yeah,” Mikleo says. “Let’s dance.”

He puts his glass down on the table and heads to the dance area with Uno, who seems surprised by his forwardness, but not unsettled. Once they get there, Uno puts a hand on Mikleo’s waist, taking his right hand with the other. His grip is gentle, almost like it isn’t there, his hands smaller and smoother than Mikleo is used to. They keep each other at a distance, even as Mikleo puts his left hand on Uno’s shoulder, and they begin to dance.

To say the least, it’s awkward. Though they both know how to dance, neither knows how to make conversation, and they end up dancing a foot apart without a word passing either of their lips. Mikleo keeps his gaze locked on Uno’s collarbone, not daring to look up in case he has to think of something to say.

Luckily, it is Uno who speaks first.

“There’s a man over there who keeps looking at you,” he comments. “Do you know him?”

Lifting his head, Mikleo casts his gaze to where Uno directs it, noticing a familiar head of brown hair, tidied for the event, with feathered earrings making the identity of the person unmistakable. Mikleo doesn’t allow himself to look for long enough to see his expression.

“That’s Sorey,” Mikleo says quietly.

Uno hums, and the hand on Mikleo’s hip increases its grip for a moment. “Is he alright? He looks like he’s in pain.”

At the words, Mikleo’s left hand clenches Uno’s shoulder a tad too tightly, and he bites out a quick apology. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “Does he really?”

He feels Uno’s eyes return to him for a moment before Uno replies. “He does. Perhaps he is jealous.”

“I doubt it. Sorey doesn’t get jealous.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Before Mikleo can react, Uno pulls him closer, so that rather than dancing at a careful distance, it’s more like they’re hugging whilst moving, now. His body is warm against Mikleo’s, but not in a comforting sense. Rather, it’s almost suffocating, especially when Uno’s lips brush against Mikleo’s ear, his breath tickling the shell.

“He’s definitely jealous,” Uno whispers.

As they turn around, Mikleo chances a glance in Sorey’s direction. His green eyes are sharp with pain, his lips pressed firmly together as he averts his gaze, brows furrowed deeply. At his sides, his hands are clenched into fists. Mikleo has never seen Sorey so frustrated before.

Uno guides them to another part of the floor, moving back into their former dance hold. For this, Mikleo is glad. Finally, he can breathe again, though the hands holding him still don’t help.

“Is he a suitor of yours?” Uno asks, blue eyes bearing only curiosity.

Mikleo bites his lip, turning his gaze to the ground. “No. He’s my best friend.”

“He seems to have a deeper interest in you than that,” Uno says lightly.

Where in times previous, Mikleo might have refuted Uno’s words, now he finds himself unsure. He can only stay quiet, hoping his uncertainty doesn’t bleed into his expression.

He must fail, however, since Uno’s smile is all-knowing.

“After all these years of refusing every invitation,” Uno says, “why did you accept mine?”

Sighing, Mikleo knows he has no choice but to answer. “I thought it would help me move on, since I could never go to the ball with Sorey. But he ended up asking me last night.”

“And yet, you still came with me.” Uno smiles at him, but less in kindness and more like he’s biting back laughter. “You certainly are gracious.”

“It’s hardly gracious for me to be speaking about another man whilst I’m dancing with you,” Mikleo replies, frowning up at him.

Suddenly, they stop, and Uno lets go of Mikleo’s waist. “Why are you still with me, then? If he is the one you’d rather be with, by all means, go.”

Mikleo hesitates, searching for an ulterior motive in those eyes. All he can find, however, is amusement. “And what about you?”

“I’ll be quite alright,” Uno says. He squeezes Mikleo’s hand one last time before letting go. “Go and find who you’re meant to be with.”

With a final nod of thanks, Mikleo turns and heads out of the crowd, towards where he’d last seen Sorey standing. Once he reaches that place, however, he does not find the one he’s searching for. He pushes past cheerful strangers gripping glasses of champagne, his heart racing as his eyes search for something familiar, something he knows better than himself.

They find Rose first.

“Rose,�� he says, interrupting whatever conversation she’d been having with the same tall stranger from before, a man with white hair and a top hat. “Have you seen Sorey?”

Blinking at him, Rose raises an eyebrow. “I think he went for a walk, or something. What happened to that guy I saw you with earlier?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

He rushes off again, leaving his friend confused. He can explain to her later, though. Right now, there’s a more important issue at hand.

Heading out of the main ball area, he makes his way through the gardens, passing flowers of all kinds and a few concealed couples too, his eyes never lingering for too long before they continue their search. His heart and mind race, trying to see what will win - Mikleo’s stamina or the thoughts passing through his mind, filling him with worry.

‘What if Sorey is gone what if he’s left already what if he hates you what if he’s angry what if you’ve ruined everything-’

Mentally, he silences these thoughts with one counterattack: Sorey looked sad. Whether he hates Mikleo or not doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Mikleo finds him and sets things right, for both of them.

Finally, after who knows how long of searching, he stumbles across an open area with a view to the stars. Beneath the trees, looking up into the sky, is the one he’s searching for, his back to Mikleo.

Mikleo doesn’t even give himself a chance to catch his breath.

“Sorey,” he says, voice weaker than he’d like.

His best friend turns to face him, surprise painting his expression in wide eyes and an o-shaped mouth. “Mikleo? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Mikleo summons his courage and heads towards Sorey, leaving a couple of feet between them, for comfort. “Why did you lie?”

This makes Sorey’s expression become tainted by confusion, and his eyebrows turn inward. “What do you mean?”

“Alisha told me about her confession to you,” Mikleo says. “She told me you said you already had a date to the ball, but you told me that no one asked you.”

For a moment, Sorey freezes. Then, recovering, his expression turns to one of regret, a pained smile crossing his lips. “When did she tell you?”

“About an hour after it happened.”

“I had hoped she wouldn’t say anything,” Sorey admits, keeping his eyes locked to the ground.

Mikleo frowns. “If you were more straightforward about your intentions, I’d never have accepted Uno’s invitation, you know.”

This makes Sorey’s eyes shoot back up to meet his. “Huh?”

“If you wanted to go to the ball with me,” Mikleo says, trying to keep his tone even, “you could have just asked me, instead of using our promise as a roundabout way of doing things. Someone asks you every year, Sorey. Do you really think I’d have believed your lie even if Alisha hadn’t told me already?”

“I never was any good at lying anyway,” Sorey says with a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Mikleo shakes his head. “What’s done is done. As long as you know not to draw it out like this next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time you decide you want to go to the ball with me.”

Sorey hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, closing the distance until their chests are inches apart. “If I ask you properly next time, will you accept?”

“Just so long as you’re not an idiot about it, probably.”

“Then what if I asked you for a dance right now?”

Mikleo takes a moment to answer, more to tease Sorey than anything. “Yes, I’d like that.”

A warm light enters Sorey’s eyes, and he smiles, offering a hand to Mikleo. When Mikleo takes it, it is warm and rough against his skin, covered by the callouses of heavy labour. His other hand, when it meets Mikleo’s waist, is large and comforting, its weight familiar and new all at once. When Mikleo puts his hand on Sorey’s shoulder, it feels right.

Their chests are pressed against each other and their faces are closer than ever before, and it feels right.

They move together, slowly, to the distant sound of the chamber orchestra, trying their best to hold each other’s gaze despite their inexperience with such close contact. Still, as they continue to dance, they relax in each other’s arms, until Mikleo’s hand plays with the hair on the nape of Sorey’s neck and Sorey pulls Mikleo closer, putting his head where Uno’s had been not long before, except this time it feels welcome, sending a shiver down Mikleo’s spine when Sorey murmurs into his ear.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he admits. “Seeing him pull you close, his hands on you.”

“To be fair, it was unexpected,” Mikleo says, his chin resting against Sorey’s shoulder. “I wasn’t particularly comfortable, myself.”

“Is it okay like this?” Sorey asks, almost moving back.

Except Mikleo grips Sorey’s hand tighter, his chest pressing closer to Sorey’s.

“This is good,” Mikleo whispers.

A puff of warm breath passes over Mikleo’s ear. “I’m glad.”

They stay that way for a long time, pressed as close as can be to each other, happy in each other’s embrace.

(And when Sorey eventually pulls away, it is only enough for Mikleo to pull him in again, letting their lips connect in a lingering kiss.)

The same thing happens every year afterwards.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, they will go to the Midsummer’s Ball together. They will spend the night dancing together, laughing together, enjoying a night in the company of their friends. They will return to that starry area and take a moment to themselves, commemorating the spot of their first dance, their first embrace, their first kiss.

They will joke about the night they got together, remembering the awkward congratulations from Uno once they returned to the main square, hand-in-hand. They will tease each other about how long they’d danced around each other for before dancing together. They will murmur the same words they exchanged for the first time that evening, once the dance ended and all that remained was the two of them, in Mikleo’s garden, reluctant to let each other go.

Because now they know about each other’s feelings, and the dance is the reason why.

And Mikleo couldn’t be happier.

#tales of zestiria #sormik #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #i'm procrastinating but that's normal around here #look at this fic i wrote!! i really like it!!!#i hope you guys like it too!!!!!!!

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Lakehaven Lattes

Title: Lakehaven Lattes Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,829 Pairings: rosali Summary: What Rose does not expect, walking down the quiet side-street towards the few shops in the area, is to find Lakehaven Lattes.

Notes: This fic wasn't originally written for this fandom, let alone this pair, but I modified it for Rose and Alisha because it fits them way better. I wrote it a while ago, but I still like it (surprisingly). Hopefully you guys will enjoy it too!

Also on: AO3

Part of the reason why Rose dislikes using public WiFi networks is because of her browser history.

Not that it’s inappropriate, usually. It’s more that she has a tendency to slam her thoughts into Google in all-caps, and sometimes her brain comes up with the strangest things. Take, for instance, a relatively recent search for ‘coffee shops in Ladylake’, which quickly deteriorated into ‘why is it so hard to find a niche coffee shop in Ladylake’, and then further into ‘why does the editor want me to write about niche coffee shops in Ladylake anyway’.

Rose gave up the internet search relatively quickly.

(At least coffee shops aren’t suspicious. Certainly not so much as using public WiFi to research for an article about the strangest murder weapons ever used had been.

Granted, that one had been her idea.)

Despite her harboured grudge against public WiFi, that doesn’t stop her from avoiding cafes which don’t have WiFi at all. Call it what you will, but Rose prefers having the option of being connected over losing options of work to do because of a lack of resources.

Perhaps that’s why she’s avoided this cafe for so long. Not only did it used to look like a 1950s cult horror film set; it also had all the features of one. Including a lack of WiFi.

To be fair, it’s also a ways away from Rose’s apartment, and there isn’t much point in travelling halfway across Ladylake to visit such a travesty as The Old Bean Cafe.

(Even the name puts her off. Who wants to drink coffee made of old beans?)

One day, however, Rose finds herself in that far-off area of Ladylake, where The Old Bean Cafe and not much else is situated.

(Except, apparently, her editor’s house. Somehow, the image of Zaveid living in such an aged area is fitting. Then again, that’s not something she should point out, with him being her boss. Or maybe she will, next time. Just for fun.)

The cacophony of traffic sounds and her grumbling stomach cry a banshee’s song. It’s barely past five in the evening, the sun only just beginning its descent to the west, and she can’t bring herself to sit in traffic for an hour before she even gets a chance to think about eating. And, unfortunately, her only option seems to be The Old Bean Cafe.

Hey, she tries to tell herself, maybe it will surprise you.

Then she recalls the image of the cafe.

Or maybe it’ll be out of business. Either sounds good.

What Rose does not expect, walking down the quiet side-street towards the few shops in the area, is to find Lakehaven Lattes.

Where The Old Bean used to sag, there now stands an entirely different cafe. Its visage is a mix of the modern hipster aesthetic and vintage cafe-chic, a sloping canopy hanging over the door, bearing the cafe’s name. Along the front hang pots of dangling green plants, and the poles holding up the canopy are wrapped with ivy. The windows reveal chunky mahogany tables with cushioned chairs, most which which appear to be vacant. There’s no menu or opening times advertised, so Rose assumes the place is open and heads inside.

As soon as she opens the door, she can tell she’s in a cafe of a completely different kind. The air feels fresh with the scent of the plants dotted around the room, and though the rich smell of coffee pervades that freshness, it’s not overpowering. In fact, it gives the place a warm atmosphere, despite its emptiness. Maybe the fairy lights strung across the ceiling help with that. Or maybe it’s the choice in decor, the red carpet, or the beige walls, decorated with art in what looks like a theme of ‘fancy coffee’. Or perhaps the soft music playing over speakers might be what truly makes the cafe feel so vibrant.

In any case, she is surprised to see that she is the only person in the cafe. There are no patrons, and even the coffee bar is not currently manned, possibly due to the lack of customers. Even if this area is quiet, she would have expected one or two people to be here, especially at this time of the day.

She moves towards the counter, raking the chalk menus with her eyes, taking in her options. Despite this being a small cafe, there seems to be a good choice in drinks, and even a nice range of food. Perhaps the range is a good thing; it takes her a while to decide what to order, and by the time she does, a member of staff finally notices her presence, as the door behind the counter opens.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there! I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Rose looks down and meets the eyes of the barista, and suddenly she’s very glad that she came here.

The barista has sand blond hair caught in a wavy ponytail, with a couple of ringlets framing her face alongside her fringe. For a uniform, she wears a white polo shirt under a baby pink apron, embroidered with the symbol of a latte mug with a heart-shaped handle. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, shrinking under Rose’s scrutiny.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rose says, smiling. “Are you still serving food?”

“Yes, we serve food until seven,” the barista replies. “What would you like?”

Rose places her order, and the barista tells her to take a seat wherever she’d like.

And sure, there’s a lot of choice. She could claim a whole sofa as her own, if she wanted. Or she could sit in one of the chairs by the window, let people know that yes, this cafe is open and does have customers. But in the end, she grabs a seat at the end of the bar.

(No, it’s totally not because she wants to talk to the cute barista.)

The barista busies herself with making Rose’s latte, her focus so entirely on the machines and foam and preparation that she doesn’t seem to notice the small smile which graces her lips. Rose notices, though, and her heart feels ready to burst at the sight.

(Oh, who is she kidding. She loves this barista, and they’ve barely spoken for a minute.)

It only takes a few minutes for her drink to be ready. The barista startles when she sees Rose’s choice of seat, and a pink flush graces her cheeks for a moment before she composes herself, setting the latte in front of her gently.

“So your cups don’t actually have heart-shaped handles, then?” Rose says, pointing to the regular round handle with a grin.

For a moment, the barista frowns in confusion, before looking down at the emblem on her apron. “Oh, no, my manager couldn’t find any. I apologise if you’re disappointed.”

Rose laughs. “It’s fine.”

The barista smiles and heads back through the door into the back area, probably to prepare the food Rose ordered. Not that she ordered much - only a curry dish she’s sure comes in a tub, pre-made. Even if she’s hungry, she didn’t want to inconvenience this poor worker, who probably thought she’d get off with a quiet day of business.

Luckily, her hunch is right, and the barista returns in only five minutes with her food. Rose thanks her, and the barista moves to the other side of the counter to wash some dishes. As much as Rose wants to speak to the barista more, her hunger takes priority right now. Without hesitation, she takes a bite of the curry.

Oh my god, she thinks.

It’s a taste explosion. She’s had curry before, and rice, sure, but never combined in such a delicious dish. Part of her wonders why she’s never eaten this before, and the other half racks her memory for the name of this dish so she can make it her only meal for the rest of her life.

The barista glances over, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Is everything alright with your food?”

“It’s amazing! What is it?”

“It’s mabo curry. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She turns back to the sink, leaving Rose to finish her meal in peace.

For once, Rose doesn’t take long to finish her meal, or the latte accompanying it. It’s only once she puts her fork down that she feels a tinge of regret for eating so fast. Now she doesn’t have an excuse to stay to talk to the barista.

But she can come up with one.

The barista takes her bowl and mug, leaving them by the sink as she rings up her food. Rose absentmindedly pays for her food, still raking through her mind for an excuse.

Until she suddenly finds one.

“Can I get your number?” she blurts.

The barista blinks at her, eyes wide in shock. “S-sorry?”

Shit, she thinks.

“Er, what I meant to say was that I’m a journalist,” Rose explains. “I’m working on an article about niche coffee shops in Ladylake, and I honestly didn’t know this place existed until today. I thought it was still The Old Bean.”

“The Old Bean closed down two years ago,” the barista says. “Sorry for interrupting you. Go on?”

“I wondered if you would mind me interviewing you about this place,” Rose says. “I didn’t mean to ask for your number without any explanation, sorry.”

“Oh.” The barista blinks, green eyes shining with confusion. “Wouldn’t you prefer to speak to a manager?”

“It’s better to get the opinions of someone with less bias,” Rose says. In her mind, she adds, Besides, it gives me an excuse to speak to you again.

“Well, if you’re sure,” the barista says. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her apron and pulls up the contacts page before passing it to Rose. “I’ll put mine in your phone, and I’ll text you with my free days.”

“Thanks!” Rose grins, passing her own phone over after navigating to the ‘new contact’ page. She moves her focus to Alisha’s phone, making sure to add emojis to the end of her name before deleting them, remembering that doing so would be unprofessional, and that the barista is supposed to be a source, not a love interest.

(Not that she would mind her being both.)

A minute later, they both have their own phones back in their hands, and Rose smiles at the name on her screen.

“Thank you, Alisha,” she says, standing from her seat. “See you again soon.”

“And the same to you,” Alisha says, glancing down at her own phone before continuing. “Goodbye, Rose.”

When Rose leaves the cafe, the sky is streaked with gold. She can’t keep the grin off her face as she walks down the street with the thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go out of her way more often.

#tales of zestiria #tales of zestiria fanfiction #roseali #rosali #toz #hey look a plot filled rosali fic that i wrote wow #guess what fandom i originally wrote this for and you get a prize #not really i have nothing to offer you oops #i have an exam tomorrow so i'll stop procrastinating now

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Bringer of Light

Title: Bringer of Light Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 532 Pairings: gen? sormik if you squint Summary: Sorey discovers his element.

Notes: This is super short but also I wrote this drabble a while ago when I was really inspired to write lightning seraph Sorey. Enjoy!

Also on: AO3

As the thunder rumbled through the sky, Sorey felt power building through his veins. His blood felt alive with heat and energy. It was an indescribable feeling, save for the fact that it felt familiar to him, like battle rushes of true names and merging voices, merging hands, merging souls. Back then, in a time so far gone it felt like another lifetime whilst remaining clear as yesterday to him, this feeling had overwhelmed him. Now he knew how to channel it, if only subconsciously.

Not that he knew how to control it, of course. But that was something he’d surely learn with a lot of practice and dedication.

Taking a deep breath in, he let a grin spread across his lips, squaring his shoulders. Against the darkened sky, he looked like a god, imposing and all-powerful. His golden hair wisped around him in the winds, shocks in the grey clouds. If a shiver of electricity made its way down the strands every so often, that only made Sorey feel more alive.

Metres to his left, Mikleo watched in awe. Never had he seen his friend look so comfortable and confident since before his sleep, once he grew into his powers and knew how to call on the seraphim for help. But this Sorey felt different still - this was his own power, now, something he created from within himself, born from years of determination and a bit of luck. It was a sight to behold, and Mikleo wanted never to look away.

The newborn seraph raised his hand to the sky, palm outward, eyes watching out to something farther, something hidden deep in the grey. Though nothing happened at first, his gaze did not waver. His hand remained outstretched, as though believing it would reach its goal.

And sure enough, a crackle of light surrounded his hand, and a bolt shot out from the clouds.

Lightning.

In truth, neither of them should have been surprised that this would be Sorey’s element. They’d known from the start it couldn’t possibly have been any of the four major ones - trial and error spoke for that. But it only made sense for the power Sorey held to be the one they’d only seen from one other seraph in their lives, one who they knew all too well, who they’d saved through the worst possible means.

This lightning felt like a tribute. It was Sorey’s way of saying, “I remember you, Gramps. I’ll carry on with what you started.”

Sorey lowered his hand to look at it in awe, expression suddenly childlike in its wonder, reminding Mikleo of days spent underground, finding new murals and artifacts to learn about. When he looked over to Mikleo, however, his expression changed to something entirely different. His grin was wide and assured, green eyes glowing with vivacity.

“I found it,” he said, voice backed by a confidence which extended over the area. Not quite thundering, but leaving an impression, nonetheless.

Mikleo took in a shaky breath, and let his face form that fond smile he’d perfected over years of looking at Sorey. “You did.”

Together, they turned back to the sky, watching as Sorey covered it with light.

#tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #sorey #mikleo #how do you title a drabble #apparently by making stuff up lol #i just wanted to practice description i think #and this is what happened

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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At Ease

Title: At Ease Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,289 Pairings: sormik Summary: He lifts a foot from the ground, ready to take the first step- “Sorey.” His body freezes without thought.

Notes: This one was another kiss prompt, this time for 'last kiss before I go off to do something dangerous'. I had a craving for superhero AUs when I wrote this, and so this came to be. For clarity's sake, Sorey has empath powers (sensing/manipulating emotions, so long as he's touching the person) and Mikleo has water affinity (mostly affecting his own body). Enjoy!

Also on: AO3

Standing at the edge of the village, Sorey does not look back. He clenches his fists and wears a smile of nervous confidence, one which encapsulates his fear and his hope all in a curve of his lips. The feeling of feathers brushing against his cheek is a calming sensation, and he takes a deep breath. He will not be able to enjoy a moment like this for a while, after this.

Once he’s ready, he lifts a foot from the ground, ready to take the first step-

“Sorey.”

His body freezes without thought. Even if a wall had suddenly appeared in front of him, it would have been easier to bypass than the person he knows is standing behind him, who he almost doesn’t want to face.

He forces himself to turn around, smile wavering when he sees his best friend standing a few feet away, his face one of disapproval.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mikleo’s hands ball into fists at his sides, his shoulders squared as though ready for a fight. To be fair, Mikleo can get pretty intense when he’s angry, so Sorey won’t be surprised if this does become a big argument.

But he doesn’t want that to happen, and at least he has the means to stop it if it does.

Though Sorey keeps smiling, he knows his true feelings are written across his face. “If you didn’t already know, you wouldn’t be here to stop me, right?”

“I’m not letting you go,” Mikleo says. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I won’t make you get involved in something that’s only my fault,” Sorey says, turning to face him properly. “That girl is in danger because of me. I need to go and help her.”

“What good can you do?” Mikleo’s voice is weak as he says the words, as though he doesn’t believe them himself. “Even if you use your power, you think it will stop them forever? And why do you need to risk your life for the sake of a girl you’ve only just met?”

“Because I can’t just let someone who needs help go without it.” Sorey looks down at his hand, remembering how he’d helped the girl the other day, how she had been lost and confused and even then he’d helped her, despite Mikleo’s concerns. “Even if she’s almost a stranger, she’s still a person. If I can do anything to help, anything at all…”

“You’ll do anything,” Mikleo finishes for him. His expression is pained, and Sorey can see frost creeping across his face, glistening in the moonlight. “I know. I can’t hold you back from something like this, even if I want you to be safe. I’m not that selfish.”

Sorey takes a step towards Mikleo, concern filling him. “You’re not selfish, Mikleo. I understand why you’re worried, but I want you to trust me. I’ll definitely come back.”

Mikleo shakes his head. “I know you will, but what if you don’t? I couldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” Sorey says, his words genuine despite the fears in his own heart. He takes another step forward, so he is only a few paces away from Mikleo.

“Then let me come with you.” Looking up at him, Mikleo’s eyes gleam with determination, even as the ice cools his cheeks. “That way I can make sure you’ll be safe.”

“This is too dangerous,” Sorey says, shaking his head. “I can’t let you get involved.”

“But wouldn’t I be a useful asset to have?” As if to show this, Mikleo holds up his left hand, and a gauntlet of ice grows to cover it. “I can provide combat support whilst you’re trying to get close to the villain.”

Sorey steps forward once more, being cautious as much as he can. “I know you’re good in combat, I’ve trained with you long enough to know better than anyone. Still, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And isn’t that exactly what I said to you?” Mikleo says. “If neither of us wants the other to get hurt, then wouldn’t it be best for us both either to go or not go?!”

“Maybe, but I don’t know that I have the power to protect you as best as I want to,” Sorey says, his heart aching with the truth. Though he has trained as much as possible, in that fight against the villain who came to their village, he and Mikleo very nearly failed completely. It had been such a close call that he knows antagonising the villain again will be dangerous. That’s why he can’t let Mikleo get involved again.

“Stop worrying about me,” Mikleo says, gritting his teeth. “Worry about yourself!”

Sorey smiles. There’s no way he can stop worrying about Mikleo, not when he means the world to him already. But he can’t just stand by when someone is in danger. “I’m really glad you care, Mikleo, but I’ve already made my decision.”

Mikleo only stares at him for a moment, both shocked and unsurprised by the development. In the end, he marches over to Sorey, and he flinches, half expecting to be socked across the face.

Instead what he feels is a pair of cool hands on his cheeks and a forehead bumping against his own, soft white hair intermingling with brown tresses.

“You’re sure about this?” Mikleo asks, voice almost quieter than the breeze.

“Mhm,” Sorey says.

Sighing, Mikleo looks down, his eyes landing on Sorey’s collarbone. “You can’t blame me for worrying, you know.”

Sorey feels his smile soften with affection, and for the first time, he doesn’t stop himself. He leans in and presses his lips to Mikleo’s, releasing his power as he does so. The warmth spreads between the two of them, and he feels Mikleo gasp against him. When they part, he sees his friend’s wide eyes and pink cheeks only for a moment before he melts before him.

Literally melts. It only takes a moment for his skin to become more translucent than it usually is, and another for him to dissolve completely into mist.

“Mikleo?!” Sorey says, shocked at the development. “Why did you melt?! I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to do that, you could have said something-”

His words are cut off when a dampness presses against his lips, slowly becoming more tangible as Mikleo’s face becomes corporeal once more, his body quickly following suit. He still drips a little from the water-cycle process his body has just gone through, but Sorey doesn’t mind at all. Leaning further into the kiss, Sorey reaches out to hold Mikleo’s waist once it reappears, bringing him ever closer.

When they part, Mikleo’s eyes are warm and dark. “You can’t just abuse your power on me, you know,” he says with a fond smile. “I know you wanted to put my worries at ease, but I’m still mad.”

“I know,” Sorey says. Even if he hadn’t wanted to put Mikleo’s mind at ease, he still thinks he would have kissed him right then. It’s not like he needed to kiss Mikleo in order to use his power, though such direct contact certainly helps to convey the positive emotions more quickly. “I didn’t expect you to literally melt, though.”

“Shut it.”

They kiss one more time, this time lingering as much as they can, knowing that when they part, Sorey will have to go, leaving Mikleo behind. Though the water hero is reluctant to let him go, he knows that they will come back together one day, both far stronger for their separation.

And so, when they part, Mikleo allows Sorey to walk away, treasuring the warmth of Sorey’s lips and his positivity.

#tales of zestiria #toz #sormik #tales of zestiria fanfiction #soymilk #so i kind of have a love hate relationship with this fic #as in i love the concept but i'm unsure about the execution #but i can't think of a better way to end this one #so here you go

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Concealed

Title: Concealed Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 458 Pairings: rosali Summary: Taking a princess with you on an assassination job leads to hiding in plain sight, amongst other things.

Notes: Just a short thing this week! I originally wrote this when I was using kiss prompts as inspiration. The prompt for this one was “hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss.” I'll write something substantial for this pair at some point, maybe, but for now it's just this. Enjoy!

Also on: AO3

“This is an awful idea.” Alisha presses herself as flat against the wall as possible, ignoring how the chiffon fabric of her dress scratches against the brickwork. The evening air puts goosebumps on her arms, and she wishes (not for the first time) that she’d brought her cloak outside with her.

Beside her, Rose peeks around the corner of the alcove in which they’re hiding, her bright red hair covered by the hood of her own cloak. Alisha can barely see the hint of the dress Rose wears underneath, a flowing fabric of blood red. Her hand hovers by her thigh, where Alisha knows a dagger is strapped on to a garter.

“Shut up, Princess,” she hisses, “or we’ll get caught.”

“No one is here to catch us,” Alisha says. “Wouldn’t we be better thinking of another pla-”

Before the can finish her sentence, Rose backs towards her, accidentally stepping on her toes with her (thankfully flat) heels. Alisha lets out a yelp of pain. A set of footsteps stops, only centimetres from discovering them.

Rose whips to face her, not giving her time to feel intimidated by the scary look on her face before she puts her hands on her face and presses their lips together in a kiss.

This time, Alisha’s yelp is one of surprise, and she remains stock-still as Rose teases her lips, kissing them despite the lack of reaction.

“Play along,” Rose whispers, pulling back for only a second before moving back in for another kiss.

When she feels Rose’s kiss this time, she gives in, closing her eyes and letting herself respond in kind. She fumbles with her hands for a moment before deciding to let them rest on Rose’s cloak, her fingers crushing the fabric over her chest. Rose’s thumbs draw circles on her jawline, each touch sensitive with the attention she gives. At some point, Rose bites Alisha’s bottom lip, earning another yelp, this time muffled by the contact.

Perhaps they both get a little too invested in their act, for neither of them notices when the footsteps which had been approaching them move away just as quickly, passing them off as any other couple. When they finally part for air, Alisha blinks, dazed. Rose smirks, her lipstick smeared around her lips (and likely Alisha’s, too).

“Not bad, Princess,” she says. “As much as I’d like to continue with this, we need to get back to business.”

It takes a moment for the words to process in her kiss-hazed brain, but she nods regardless. “Yeah.”

And if, after they find their target, they head back to Alisha’s room to pick up where they left off, then maybe Alisha isn’t entirely opposed to kissing as an act of concealment.

#tales of zestiria #toz #rosali #roseali #tales of zestiria fanfiction #i dug myself a hole by saying i'd post something every week #because this is the only thing i was happy enough to post right now #the rest all need work ughughu #this was my first rosali though!!#i hope i can write more for them in the future too #what is their pair tag #did something weird happen with the text here???

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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i’ll take the blame (if you’ll come back)

Title: i’ll take the blame (if you’ll come back) Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,956 Pairings: gen Summary: Sorey doesn’t like arguing with Mikleo.

Notes: I wrote this a couple months ago when I wanted to improve my characterisation by trying to stick as close to canon as I could. For whatever reason, writing about Sorey and Mikleo as kids felt like the easiest way of doing that. It’s just a small thing, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway!

Also on: AO3

Sorey doesn’t like arguing with Mikleo.

It’s a rare occurrence that the two ever truly fall out, of course, but they often have little spats which tend to resolve themselves quickly enough. They’re usually about silly things, like who found a discovery first, or who was the last one to help the older seraphim with certain chores. As such, they’re never really all that serious and the boys manage to be best friends again with a few minutes of their spats beginning.

Today’s argument is only an exception in that it lasts far longer than Sorey would like.

Gramps sighs, breathing out some of the smoke from his pipe. “You know full well that you are not allowed to explore inside the ruins. It’s far too dangerous.”

“It was Mikleo’s idea,” Sorey says, only vaguely remembering Mikleo suggesting something like this. “He’s the one who said we should go in.”

Mikleo gapes at Sorey. “No, it was your idea! I was totally against it, but you just went in anyway!”

“No, it was definitely you!”

Even as he says this, Sorey doubts himself. Did Mikleo actually say they should go in? It might have been his own idea, now he thinks about it. He definitely knows that he didn’t go in until Mikleo agreed with him, though.

This situation has become way too troublesome. He doesn’t want to end up arguing with Mikleo over something as petty as this - Gramps is likely going to punish them both, anyway.

“It was Sorey,” Mikleo says, turning to Gramps with his hands clenched into fists on his knees.

“Who started it doesn’t matter,” Gramps says, his tone stern. “You are lucky nothing harmed you in there. There might be hellions lurking in the depths, and you know that we can do naught against them.”

“We know,” Sorey and Mikleo chorus, bowing their heads in guilt.

“Then you’d do well to remember it.” Reaching over, Gramps swats them both over the head, light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but it’s a warning nonetheless. “I’ll make sure the others give you plenty of chores to do, as punishment.”

“Yes Gramps,” they chorus.

Once they get out of Gramps’ hut, Mikleo turns on him, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You and I both know it was you who started it.”

“Can’t we drop this?” Sorey says. He’d been happy to think that the argument might have ended already, but it’s strange that Mikleo would willingly bring it back up again. “It’s not like it matters.”

“It matters because you were putting the blame on me!” Crossing his arms over his chest, Mikleo huffs.

“You were putting the blame on me, too!”

“That’s because it was actually your fault!”

“Well maybe it wasn’t my fault!” When he speaks this time, Sorey is aware of how their voices have escalated in volume. He knows they should quieten down and stop arguing, but again, and he wants to do that, but Mikleo doesn’t let him.

In fact, Mikleo turns away from him, fuming with anger. “Come and find me when you’re willing to face the facts.”

When Mikleo storms away from him, Sorey lets him go, his anger fading into sadness at the sight of his friend’s back.

This has indeed become a far more troublesome situation than it started out as. But Sorey comforts himself in the fact that, if he waits a little while for Mikleo to cool his head, he’ll probably come back later on, and they can go on as normal.

The next morning, when Sorey wakes up, he feels colder than usual. It’s obvious as to why: in this bed, which is already far too large for a single child, he is all alone.

Mikleo didn’t come over last night.

It shouldn’t surprise him, really. His best friend can be incredibly stubborn at times, and it isn’t like he comes over to Sorey’s house every night even when they’re on good terms.

But it’s unusual that he should wake up in a house all by himself. Most mornings, Mikleo will come over so they can have breakfast together, even if he didn’t stay over the night before. It fits with their lessons and chores, so it’s become routine.

The sight of a lifeless house makes his heart ache.

Sorey gets out of bed and prepares for the day, eating a lonely breakfast accompanied only by The Celestial Record, which is an amazing book but makes for a poor conversation partner, given that it can only speak words that Sorey has read a thousand times over already.

After breakfast, he gets changed and heads outside. He heads over to the small rock house which Mikleo was given after he and Sorey were separated by Gramps a year ago. The outside of the house is pretty barren, save for the nature overtaking it, and Sorey knows the inside holds only books and Mikleo’s clothes and cookware. Neither of them have many possessions to begin with, but given that half of Mikleo’s clothes are at Sorey’s house, it’s fair to say that Mikleo’s own house doesn’t get used often.

When Sorey knocks on the door, there is no reply save for a heavy silence, and though he waits a good five minutes, after that he forces himself to accept that Mikleo just isn’t coming outside for him today.

It’s his own fault, and he knows it. He shouldn’t have pressed on with his own argument when he knew he might be in the wrong. Apologising would have been the best course of action. Now, though, he’s made Mikleo upset with him.

Letting out a long exhale, he forces himself away from the house. There’s no point in wallowing here right now - he’ll wait a while before finding Mikleo, and he can apologise then.

Except he doesn’t get a chance to talk to Mikleo that day.

Throughout their usual classes and chores, he only sees glimpses of his friend, who avoids him and his gaze at all costs. The one time they meet eyes, Mikleo immediately looks away, huffing. And without fail, any chance he has to get away from Sorey, he takes it, storming off in the same cloud of annoyance that he was cloaked with the day before.

“It everything alright?” Medea asks when Mikleo leaves as soon as she ends their handicraft lesson for the day.

“We had a fight,” Sorey says reluctantly. “It’s okay, though. I’m going to apologise to him, once he stops avoiding me.”

Medea smiles and hums. “I’m glad. Don’t lose hope - he’s stubborn, but I’m sure Mikleo doesn’t want to fight with you, either.”

(Neither of them see when Mikleo glances over his shoulder after leaving the house, a forlorn expression on his features.)

Sorey thanks her and leaves her house, taking in a breath of fresh air once he gets outside. Since he has no classes now, he’s tempted to go out and relieve some of his pent-up stress by hunting a prickleboar or two. As long as they’re small ones, he should be able to handle them, and he needs to gather food anyway.

Rushing to his own house, he picks up the wooden sword he usually uses and heads out of the village towards the prickleboar hunting grounds. The walk is oddly quiet, a fact which he attributes to the fact that he doesn’t have his best friend at his side, making idle conversation about their classes and chores and whatever else comes to mind. It isn’t often that Sorey goes hunting by himself - or anywhere, for that matter. Looking to his left he half expects to see a head of white hair, and he fools himself into a sense of false hope every time.

It doesn’t take long for him to find a small prickleboar, one which is minding its own business, chewing the grass at its trotters. Though he still feels a hint of pity for it, he knows by now that unless he hunts these animals, he won’t have food to eat. This is a necessary evil.

He pounces on it with his sword, engaging it in battle. Luckily it is quite weak, unable to fight back against Sorey’s slashing attacks. None of the attacks are very well executed, due to his lack of experience, but they do the job; after a few whacks on the head, the prickleboar goes down with a squeal.

“Yes!” Sorey grins, turning to his left. “We did it-”

There’s no one there to celebrate with.

A wave of disappointment flows through him. His smile drops as he remembers himself, and he turns back to the downed prickleboar, wondering how best to take it back to Elysia. He’s not strong enough to carry it by himself, even if it is quite small, so it would probably be best to drag it behind him. Kneeling at its side, he searches his pack for some rope to tie around it, to make dragging it home easier.

Except he hears a grunt.

Looking up, he sees a larger prickleboar a few feet away, pawing at the ground with its trotter. It grunts again and tosses its head.

“Crap,” Sorey whispers, his hand going to his sword again.

The prickleboar is too fast for him. He hears it approaching and closes his eyes, waiting for the impact-

“Twin flow!” a young, familiar voice yells.

He hears the prickleboar cry out as the attack hits it, and opens his eyes to see it drenched in water. Turning his head to the left, from where the voice came, he feels a wave of relief wash over him. Between the trees stands Mikleo, holding his staff out in the direction of the prickleboar. For only a moment, Sorey wonders how long Mikleo has been nearby, and if he was following him. His showing up couldn’t be coincidence, right?

“Mikleo!” Sorey stands up, turning to his friend. “Am I glad to see you-”

“The prickleboar!” Mikleo interrupts him, readying another seraphic arte.

Sorey whips back around and manages to block the prickleboar’s next attack with his sword, though only just barely. “It’s an adult one, we’re not strong enough!”

“We’ll have to flee,” Mikleo calls, two jets of water slamming the prickleboar on its side again.

“But what about the small one?!”

“Leave it!”

At this point, Sorey isn’t about to argue. With the adult prickleboar still recovering, he and Mikleo manage to run away, back in the direction of their village. They don’t stop running until they’re safely inside the gate, at which point the prickleboar has long since given up its chase. Breathing heavily, the boys try to catch their breath before saying anything.

It’s Sorey who speaks first. “Thanks, Mikleo. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t thank me,” Mikleo says, looking away with a frown. “I only did it because I happened to be nearby.”

Sorey smiles, not believing his words for a second. “Uh-huh. I’m glad you’re here though. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

Mikleo’s eyes flick over to him in interest, though he tries to make it look like he’s not interested by keeping his body turned away. “Oh?”

“That argument was over something silly,” Sorey says, not put off by Mikleo’s feigned lack of interest. “So let’s stop fighting, okay?”

Sighing, Mikleo turns to face him properly. Though he tries to look exasperated, it’s a ruined effect due to his own smile. “Fine.”

The two boys head back to Sorey’s house, the usual warm atmosphere falling back into place around them.

“Let’s not argue again, okay?”

“Okay.”

And though the two are bound to argue again in the future, they will never forget the feeling of missing the other when such arguments tear them apart.

#tales of zestiria #sorey #mikleo #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #sometimes it's nice to go back to basics lol #how do you title

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Candid Complex (Chapter Eight [END])

Title: Candid Complex Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G+ Pairing/s: sormik Summary: When the door slams shut, Mikleo’s head jolts up, and he freezes.

Notes: Happy White Day! This is the last chapter! I’d like to thank everyone who’s read this for all of their support, it really means the world to me <3

AO3 Link

In all honesty, Edna doesn’t know why the ice cream parlour opens at nine on a Monday morning. As if anyone in their right mind wants to eat frozen desserts before they’ve even digested their breakfast. As if the parlour is busy enough even at peak times for people to come wandering in the moment they unlock the door in the morning.

It doesn’t matter what Edna thinks, though. She has no say in when her work opens, even if there won’t be a customer in sight until at least noon.

Today there is someone in sight, though; a familiar head of bright white hair passes the window, never once looking up from the ground as it does.

Instinctively, she knows something is wrong.

She goes to the door and grabs Mikleo’s wrist, stopping him from walking any further. He doesn’t try to, either.

Without a word, she drags him into the parlour, sitting him down at a booth before heading back to the counter. She makes him a cup of tea and herself a cup of coffee, sitting them on the table where Mikleo sits.

He doesn’t say a word.

“What happened?” she says, sitting opposite him in the booth.

Mikleo doesn’t even flinch.

Edna picks up her cup of coffee, taking a long drag of the bitter warmth.

“Did Meebo get dumped?” she says in her usual teasing tone, trying to at least elicit some reaction.

His hands clench a little tighter on the tabletop.

Aha.

“What happened?” Edna asks again, hoping this time he might actually respond.

Mikleo doesn’t answer, though he does reach for his cup of tea and drink some. The minutes pass by in agonising silence as he drinks half the cup, then sets it back down.

“He dumped me. What more is there to say?”

Despite the tea he’s just drank, Mikleo’s voice sounds rough and scratchy. Not only that, but his entire appearance is a mess compared to usual. He hasn’t bothered styling his hair, and his clothes are rumpled. The bags under his eyes are more noticeable than usual, too.

Even if the situation is as simple as him getting dumped, that doesn’t make it any better. Mikleo still looks like he’s been through a death more than a breakup.

Edna stays quiet. She has never been good at cheering people up. All she can think of doing is offering to smack Sorey around with her umbrella a few times, but she already knows the answer Mikleo would give to that suggestion.

This boy is too soft-hearted for his own good.

Instead of offering comfort, Edna pulls out her phone and texts someone who can do much more than her. When she looks back up, Mikleo is staring into the remaining dregs of his tea, eyes blank.

“Have you eaten?” Edna asks.

Mikleo shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.”

Edna heads back to the counter, grabbing a yogurt from the staff fridge under the counter alongside one of those stupid tiny ice cream shovels. She puts them on the table in front of Mikleo.

“I don’t care if you’re not hungry. Eat.”

A moment of stubborn refusal later, Mikleo sighs and opens the yogurt, making do with the tiny shovel, which is pretty much useless for anything less solid than ice cream. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t stop eating the yogurt, either.

As he eats, Edna makes him another cup of tea, and herself another coffee, then sits across from him once more, sipping at her drink. They sit together in silence for fifteen minutes before the bell above the door finally twinkles with the arrival of a newcomer.

“Good morning, Edna, Mikleo!” Lailah says, her voice weak between breaths. “I got here as fast as I could. What happened?”

“Meebo got dumped,” Edna says. Mikleo flinches.

“Oh no!” Lailah’s face crumples, and she slides into the booth next to Mikleo, wrapping her arms around him in an attempt to comfort him. “Oh, Mikleo…”

Mikleo stiffens for a moment before relaxing, keeping his eyes on his half-finished pot of yogurt, now abandoned on the table in front of him.

“I’m going to be late for class,” he says quietly.

“You’re really going to class like that?” Edna says, raising an eyebrow. Even if it’s a lame excuse to miss school, Mikleo shouldn’t be going in this state. It’s not like he’ll be able to take in anything the teachers say, after all.

“Of course I’m going,” Mikleo says. “I can’t just miss my classes. Not for something like this.”

“Which classes do you have? I’m sure I can let the teachers know that you can’t make it,” Lailah says.

“I have Anthropology and History.” His voice falters a little on the second class.

“Isn’t that the class you share with-”

Mikleo stands suddenly. “I have to go.”

Lailah slides out of the booth, letting him do the same. “I’ll walk you to class. If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you between your classes, too.”

“Fine.”

She sends an apologetic glance to Edna before following Mikleo out of the ice cream parlour, into the spring air once more.

Edna watches them go for a moment before sighing and starting to clear the booth. There’s only so much she can do for Mikleo, and getting Lailah was probably her best option. Still, though she won’t admit it, she hopes Lailah will be able to cheer Mikleo up soon. She doesn’t want Mopeleo moping all over her store, after all.

(Besides, Mikleo is like a brother to her.

And if Sorey dares step foot in here, he’ll regret it.

That’s what happens when someone messes with her family, after all.)

Rose has a vendetta to fulfil, today.

That is, if the coward she’s looking for has even decided to show his face at the university.

She curses under her breath for the situation happening at all. Mikleo himself told her that he was planning on breaking up with Sorey at the end of the week. And she herself told Mikleo that he would regret it if he did.

Well, judging by how dejected Sorey was upon his return last night, it’s time to make Mikleo regret it.

Since Rose doesn’t know Mikleo’s class schedule, all she can go off is the fact that Mikleo has History at the same time and place as Sorey on a Monday. That’s where she heads, when that class comes to an end. A stream of people comes out of the room, all chattering without care, not a single white-haired boy within the crowd, but she waits. He’ll come eventually.

And he does. He and a girl with brown hair walk out of the room together. The brunette twists her hair around her finger, speaking to him even though he seems to be ignoring her.

“So you really don’t know where he is? I thought you were dating though. Shouldn’t you know where he is, if that’s the case?”

Mikleo’s lips press together tightly.

The girl blinks before grinning. “You don’t mean to tell me you’re not dating anymore, right? Ooh, I might have a chance, then. Guess I’ll have to find him myself, though.”

Before Mikleo can say anything, the girl flounces off to another group of girls, probably her friends.

Rose grabs Mikleo by the wrist, dragging him into a quieter corridor, despite his protests. She slams him against a wall, hand grasping his shirt, and fixes him the most dangerous glare she can muster.

“What the fuck did I tell you about hurting Sorey?”

Mikleo’s eyes widen, filled with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve forgotten our little chat already?”

“No, not that, I remember.”

“Then why did you hurt Sorey?!” Rose lets her knuckles dig into Mikleo’s chest.

“I didn’t,” Mikleo says. “What are you talking about?”

Rose lets out a scoff. “If you didn’t hurt Sorey, then why is he refusing to leave his flat today? Why has he been depressed all night?”

Mikleo pauses, mouth open in disbelief. His eyebrows come together in concern. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. He’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yesterday, at the aqueduct. Sorey broke up with me, then left me there.”

Rose steps back, letting her hand fall to her side. “That doesn’t make sense, though.”

“He told me he didn’t want to lie anymore, and apologised, then left. I think that’s a pretty clear indication of a breakup.”

Slowly, pieces fall into place in Rose’s brain and she sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. “What in the world…”

“There you are Mikleo- Oh, am I interrupting something?” Lailah stands a few feet away, a confused expression on her face.

An idea pops into Rose’s head.

“Not at all,” Rose says, stepping aside. “Actually, Lailah, I think you and Mikleo should go talk somewhere in private. It sounds like a lot has happened.”

Lailah blinks, perplexed. “Okay?”

“Awesome!” Rose then does something she doesn’t tend to do often, and hugs Lailah. Usually, she wouldn’t do something like this - she’s not big on physical affection, after all, but it’s necessary; As she hugs her, she whispers into her ear, “I’ll text you the details in a minute.”

She pulls away, then gives Lailah and Mikleo a cheerful farewell before jogging off, leaving both parties in total confusion.

Their confusion has nothing on hers, though.

Unlocking her phone, she navigates to the number Lailah gave her after they met at the library for the first time. They hadn’t exchanged any messages yet, and Rose can’t help but feel disappointed that this is their first text conversation.

To: Lailah

okay so apparently sorey broke up with mikleo, but sorey is the one who’s been all depressed since he got back. i’m going to grab sorey and we’re gonna make them talk. you in?

After shooting the text off, she gets into her car and drives as quickly as she can back to her flat building. All thoughts of going to class have escaped her brain, now. There are much more pressing matters at hand.

It takes fifteen minutes to reach the building, then another couple to get the elevator up to her and Sorey’s floor, a journey which she spends tapping her foot and cursing how slow this old elevator is. When she gets there, she heads straight to his door, knocking smartly on it.

No answer.

She tries the handle, but finds the door locked.

Sighing, she pulls a hairpin out of her hair and bends it outward. If there’s one good thing she got from her psychopathic ex-boyfriend, it might just be the knowledge of how to pick a lock. Well, an old lock, anyway.

(No one said she or Sorey made the best decisions when choosing apartments in Ladylake. They should really have found ones with better locks.)

After a couple of minutes of jimmying the grip in the lock, she manages to open the door. Without calling a greeting, Rose shoves off her shoes at the door and storms into Sorey’s bedroom, where the curtains are still closed and the only sign that someone is inside is the lump of duvet on the bed, which moves slowly as the person within it breathes.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Rose says loudly, opening the curtains to let light into the room. Hearing a groan, she grins, pulling the duvet out of Sorey’s hands and dropping it on the floor. Her face falls.

He hasn’t even changed clothes since last night.

“Come on, you’re already late as it is,” she says, grabbing some clothes at random from Sorey’s dresser and throwing them at him. “Go get changed.”

Sorey mumbles something under his breath.

“Go! Now!”

It takes a few minutes, but Rose finally gets him to move, shoving him and the clothes in the bathroom. Once he’s changed, she pushes him out the door and locks it behind them without sparing an ear for his complaints.

They don’t have time, after all.

To: Rose

We’re in the Mioma building, room M32. Ignore the sign on the door, it’s for privacy.

Locking her phone, Lailah puts it down on the table. She and Mikleo sit on the desks across from the door, the room of paper dragons surrounding them. When Rose asked her to take Mikleo to a private place, of course this is the first room she thought of.

She hands Mikleo a piece of origami paper, and he takes it wordlessly. That’s fine, though. She will wait for him to speak, rather than forcing him. This conversation can be had when he’s ready, after all.

Two origami dragons later, Mikleo picks up a fresh sheet of paper and speaks.

“He kissed me, on Saturday.”

Lailah puts down her own dragon, focusing her attention on Mikleo. “On your camping trip?”

Mikleo nods, folding his paper without much thought. “In the tent. We were talking and laughing, and then he kissed me. We kissed. That’s why…”

“You thought he returned your feelings?”

He lets out a little laugh, no humour evident in it at all. “Apparently I was wrong. It must have been a spur of the moment thing. Either that or kissing isn’t anything special to him.”

Lailah wraps an arm around Mikleo’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “I don’t think that’s the case, Mikleo.”

“Well it’s over now, isn’t it? It’s not like I can just ask him. He told me he doesn’t want to keep lying. I guess he was just trying to spare my feelings all week.” Mikleo keeps folding the paper, each fold crisp under his tense hands. “I can’t bring myself to resent him, though. He’s too good of a person.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Mikleo’s fingers freeze. He lays the half-finished dragon in his lap, hands resting atop it. “Yes, I do.”

Lailah brings her other arm around him, hugging him from the side. He leans into her hug, neither saying a word, simply sitting together in silence.

Only a knock at the door brings them out of their silent show of comfort.

Outside room M32, Sorey panics.

At first, he had no clue why Rose was dragging him out of his room. He didn’t want to go anywhere, especially not to university, where he knew at some point he would have to face Mikleo, something he isn’t ready for yet. Now, though, seeing the sign on the door, he has some idea.

“Rose, there’s an exam going on in there,” he says quietly, pointing to the sign.

“Yeah, it’s a make-up test. You’re already late for it,” Rose says, knocking firmly on the door.

Sorey’s mouth dries. He didn’t even know he had any exams left until finals - he hasn’t studied at all. And a make-up test at that? He hasn’t failed any of his previous tests that he knows of - unless he failed the one from a couple of weeks ago. But why hasn’t his teacher contacted him about this? Unless he missed the email over the weekend. The last time he checked his emails was Friday night, so it’s likely his teacher managed to catch Rose and ask her to get him.

Oh god, he’s going to fail this exam on top of everything that’s already happened recently.

He turns and begins to tell her that he can’t do this exam, but then the door opens, and Lailah steps out, closing the door behind her.

“He’s waiting,” Lailah tells him with a small smile. He assumes she’s talking about his teacher - maybe he’s about to get an earful as well as an exam. “Good luck.”

She moves away from the door, and before Sorey can even reach for the door handle, Rose shoves him into the room, closing the door behind him with a slam louder than a bomb.

But even a bomb might have been less surprising than this.

His eyes meet Mikleo’s and he freezes.

When the door slams shut, Mikleo’s head jolts up, and he freezes.

Sorey.

Sorey stands a few feet from the door, looking just as shell-shocked as him, but more than that, he looks worn out. His hair is a mess, not even in its usual quirky way. He has bags under his eyes and his clothes look like they were chosen by a wombat - not that Sorey has the most fashionable taste in clothing on a good day.

He looks how Rose described him - dejected.

Speaking of Rose, a click comes from the door as she yells through it. “I’m locking you both in here until you sort this shit out. Have fun!”

Then, there is silence.

For a long minute, neither of them speak. Mikleo doesn’t know about Sorey, but there’s a lump in his own throat too large to speak around. He doesn’t know what to say, anyway.

Sorey finally tears his eyes away from Mikleo’s, his expression changing to awe as he looks around the room, eyes following every paper dragon hanging from the ceiling, every lick of paper flame in the nest that is Lailah’s grad project. His eyes finally fall on the larger, more detailed dragon, which Lailah has finished since the last time Mikleo saw it. It stands in the centre of a whirlwind of paper dragons, red paper flames burning from its snout.

“What is this?” he says in a breathless voice.

Mikleo’s heart stutters at that voice. He tries to keep his own steady as he answers. “Lailah’s final project. An origami dragons’ nest.”

“Wow,” Sorey breathes, “this is incredible.”

Mikleo hums in agreement, turning his attention back to the origami dragon in his hands. It’s still half-finished, so he resumes his folding, glad to have something occupying his hands. He feels Sorey’s gaze switch to him, but doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Sorey says after a while. “Did I miss anything important in History?”

“No,” Mikleo replies, though he has no idea whether that’s true or not. He wasn’t exactly paying much attention himself. Besides, this is not what they should be talking about, right now.

“I see.”

Silence falls again.

Then-

“Mikleo-”

“Sorey-”

They both stop.

“You go first,” Sorey says.

Mikleo opens his mouth to tell him to go first, then stops. No, he’ll take this one. Otherwise they’ll be here all day.

“I’m sorry,” Mikleo says. “I shouldn’t have forced you to pretend to date me last week. It only made you uncomfortable, I’m sure.”

“What?” Sorey says, sounding genuinely perplexed. “No, I told you, didn’t I? I enjoyed last week. None of it made me uncomfortable.”

“Except for the lying, I take it?”

Sorey looks down at his feet.

“Listen, I get it,” Mikleo says, putting his almost-finished dragon to the side. “It was an honest mistake, and I took it too far. Even if you enjoyed the week, I made you lie about your feelings, and somewhere along the line, I forgot it was a lie, and made you uncomfortable. You don’t have to feel guilty for not returning my feelings.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Sorey’s eyes return to Mikleo’s, wearing total confusion, unmasked behind anything else. “You’re the one who doesn’t return my feelings, though.”

Mikleo’s face mirrors Sorey’s in its confusion. “Huh?”

“When I told you I didn’t want to lie anymore, after I kissed your hand, you looked super shocked. I thought that was you rejecting my feelings, so I apologised and left.” Sorey looks down at his hands. “On Saturday, I kissed you without asking or anything. Obviously you must have been uncomfortable with that. I mean, you yourself said you don’t return my feelings, even before then.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“When you were talking to Rose. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you told her our feelings weren’t the same, and that you were going to break up with me at the end of the week. I decided to let you know my feelings then, so that even if you didn’t feel the same, you’d know that I didn’t regret last week.”

For a second, Mikleo can’t recall the conversation at all. When he does, though, he can’t help but give a scoffed laugh. “You didn’t hear the whole conversation, did you?”

“No, I went back to the kitchen.”

“If you had stayed,” Mikleo says, pushing himself off the desk and taking a step towards Sorey, “you would have heard me tell Rose that I thought your feelings for me were only platonic, and that my romantic feelings for you weren’t returned.”

Sorey blinks in disbelief. “Wait, really?”

Mikleo lets out a laugh of relief, breath shaky. “Yes, really. I thought it was obvious.”

“I thought my feelings for you were way more obvious.”

“Then I guess we’re both denser than either of us would like to admit.”

They both laugh, in both relief and amusement.

Sorey takes a step towards Mikleo. “So you really…?”

Mikleo takes the last couple of steps between them, reaching his hands up to hold Sorey’s face in them. “Sorey, you idiot. I love you.”

In that moment, Sorey’s face splits into the widest, brightest smile Mikleo has seen from it so far, one filled with so much love and affection, Mikleo’s heart wants to burst from looking at it. He puts his hands on Mikleo’s waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles through the fabric.

“I love you too, Mikleo.”

Overcome with love for the boy in front of him, Mikleo pulls his face forward and kisses him. Immediately Sorey presses closer into the kiss, returning it with all the love in his heart, completely unrestrained of worries of it being rejected.

Neither of them hear the door click as Rose unlocks it, giving a nod of approval to Lailah before they head off, leaving the boys in full privacy.

If Sorey could go back in time and tell his past self anything, he’d tell himself to enjoy the ride, no matter what happens.

There will always be people alongside him to pull him up if he falters, after all.

Even the awkward situations can be bearable, and even the worst situations can be turned around.

All he needs to do is speak up and trust his friends with his true feelings. That way, there’s no doubt he’ll end up happy.

And now, with Mikleo in his arms, he feels happier than ever.

#tales of zestiria #toz #sormik #tales of zestiria fanfiction #i can't believe this is actually the end #i actually managed to finish and post the idea i had almost this time last year????#crazy?????#i really hope everyone likes this chapter

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years ago

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Candid Complex (Chapter Seven)

Title: Candid Complex Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G+ Pairing/s: sormik Summary: The next morning, Sorey awakens before Mikleo.

AO3 Link

The next morning, Sorey awakens before Mikleo.

It’s not the sunlight filtering through the bright red tent roof. Nor is it the light breeze rattling the paper walls or the beeping of an alarm which wakes him up.

He simply awakens.

The first thing he notices about being awake is that, though he lies on his back now, Mikleo is still curled against his chest, hands around his waist, his face calm, with no thoughts creating lines of worry. His deep breaths cover Sorey’s collarbone in warmth. Sorey breathes along with him.

Mikleo is here, so close to him, and that amazes Sorey. The fact that he chose to sacrifice what little personal space is available to them in this tent just to be with Sorey. The fact that, last night, he let Sorey kiss him so readily.

It’s both amazing and heart-wrenching.

Because here’s the thing: Mikleo doesn’t share his feelings. He said so himself, though those were words not meant to be overheard. This relationship, close as it is becoming, is still fake to him. And for that reason, all Sorey feels in the aftermath of last night’s pleasure is a lump of guilt, threatening to swallow him whole. Sorey is the one who pressed closer, who initiated the kiss.

He should have at least asked, first. Made sure that Mikleo wouldn’t mind.

In his excitement and awe and love-clouded mindset, he hadn’t even stopped to think.

How careless of him.

Despite himself, Sorey can’t help but have a shred of hope lingering within him. Mikleo kissed back, after all. He’s strong - he could easily have pushed Sorey away, yelled at him, ended it there and then. But he kissed back. He leaned into Sorey’s hold when he offered it.

All this thinking is making his head ache.

Now that he is awake, Sorey knows he won’t fall asleep again. Instead of even trying, he lifts a hand from where it rests around Mikleo, gingerly feeling for his phone on the blanket beside him.

He feels a groan against his chest.

Pausing in his movements, he feels a rush of fondness. So Mikleo isn’t a morning person, after all. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Mikleo groans again, nuzzling closer to Sorey’s chest - or at least attempting to. He’s not sure he could get any closer, even if they weren’t wearing clothes.

(That’s really not something he should be thinking about with Mikleo lying on top of him.)

Sorey manages to tilt his head enough to see the time on his phone, then turns to Mikleo once more. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

There’s a sound, muffled enough that he can’t tell if it’s words or simply noise.

“It’s eight AM,” Sorey says.

“Too early,” Mikleo mutters, turning his head so his words are coherent.

Sorey lets out a soft laugh, letting the hand still around Mikleo come up to rest on his hair. He combs through it with his fingers, enjoying its soft texture against his skin. “We need to get back to Ladylake, though.”

Mikleo practically melts against Sorey. “Five more minutes.”

“Okay, but only five minutes.”

He’s back asleep in less than a minute.

(Sorey gives him twenty.)

By the time they get out of bed and pack their equipment, it’s already ten in the morning. Still, neither of them particularly mind this unplanned late start. It’s not like the trains from Kylfe to Ladylake aren’t frequent, even on Sundays. Hiking to Kylfe only takes a few hours, too, so they should still be back before dinner.

Or at least, so Sorey hopes.

(If Sorey could tell his younger self anything, after the week he’s just had, he thinks he knows what he’d say.)

Perhaps it’s Sorey’s low mood catching on, or Mikleo is simply tired, but neither of them speak much during the hike back to Kylfe. The scenery surrounding them is breathtaking, with the sun illuminating countless glistening rivers and vast fields of flowers, vibrant between sheets of green. In the distance, a great waterfall continues its powerful surge, relentless without fail.

Such scenes are enough to make one speechless, but Sorey can already tell that’s not what has got their tongues tied.

In any case, through the quiet they manage to hike back to Kylfe without problems. Once they get there, of course, they notice that the next train isn’t until later in the afternoon, around an hour from now. To pass the time, they decide to peruse the shops on the main street.

Most of the shops are typical small-town establishments - corner shops and newsagents’ and charity shops, none of which particularly catch either of their eyes. However, halfway down the street they find themselves outside a charming establishment with a mahogany window display, filled with displays of paperback.

A bookshop.

The inside is as charming as its exterior. Every display is neat, stacked on spindly wooden tables, nestled between towering shelves of tomes. Most of the books are fiction, of course, but even so, the older hardback editions of classics make them both pause, taken in by their elegance. They breathe the scent of stories.

In the far corner of the little bookshop is a section of what they find to be history books. Even these editions are similar to the fiction books, beautiful leather-bound volumes with gilded lettering. Even if it wasn’t their subject of choice, they would have a hard time looking away.

Naturally, they spend a long time looking through the stock.

At one point, Sorey looks over to find Mikleo holding a single book, his fingers touching the cover with the greatest of care. The light in his eyes is like nothing Sorey has ever seen, yet it feels so familiar to him regardless.

A moment passes, and Mikleo shelves the book.

But his eyes continue to find it, even as they move to another section of the store.

He shouldn’t be making it harder for himself. But he can’t help himself. All he wants is to see Mikleo smile again.

When Mikleo isn’t looking, Sorey buys the book.

Once they exit the bookstore, they quickly buy takeout drinks from a cafe nearby before heading back to the train station. The warm cup gives Sorey something to occupy his hands with, something to stop them wringing at his sides, powered by the anxious thoughts clouding his mind.

The train station isn’t busy, the only patrons being themselves and an older couple with their child. They take seats on one of the benches, cradling their drinks in silence.

(If he could, he’d tell himself this: it turns out dating is harder than you might think. Books never talk about the heartbreak, only the happy times. That’s probably because hearing about the pain puts you off loving at all.)

Beside him, Mikleo takes a long sip of his tea, every movement practised with a grace and refinement most could not pull off. For Mikleo, though, it suits him to a tee, no pun intended. Despite his young age, his eyes shine with the light of one much older, much wiser.

Maybe that’s why the sight calms Sorey. Even if this hurts him, if that light continues to shine in Mikleo’s eyes, then this will all be worth it.

(What they don’t tell you is that pain is easier to withstand when it’s for the benefit of someone you love.)

Maybe it’s because of the inevitability of this ending that he doesn’t bother to conceal his staring. He only has so long to appreciate this, after all. Mikleo keeps his head held high, his neck exposed to the late spring chill. His teeth tug at his lip, and subconsciously, Sorey finds himself biting his own lip, trying not to remember the feeling of last night.

Feeling Sorey’s eyes on him, Mikleo’s eyes latch onto him, and he quirks an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Oh, er-” Sorey clams up, taken off guard, until he remembers- “I have something to give you!”

“What?” Mikleo turns to face him, perplexed.

Rather than explaining, Sorey pulls the carrier bag containing the book out of his backpack and hands it to Mikleo.

Mikleo pulls the book out of the bag, his lips falling open at the realisation of what it is. The light from before returns to his eyes, making them glimmer in the afternoon sun, vibrant amethyst against the blue sky. His fingers trace the cover, caressing the leather with the gentlest touch.

Never has Sorey wanted to be a book more in his life.

“Sorey…” Mikleo looks up, eyebrows drawing together. “You didn’t have to…”

“Don’t worry about it!” Sorey says, grinning. “I just noticed you looking at it, and I wanted to treat you to something, since you payed for our drinks.”

“A book is much more expensive than a drink, though.”

“I said it’s fine. Am I not allowed to treat you every once in a while?”

Mikleo looks down at the book. “You treat me all the time,” he mumbles. In a clearer voice, he says, “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

Before Sorey can say anything, Mikleo leans over and presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek. He’s gone a moment later, face turned to the book once more. Sorey raises a hand to his cheek, feeling warmth pooling there.

Mikleo wouldn’t just do that on a whim, right? Surely that has to be a good sign - though it doesn’t quite add up. Mikleo said himself that he doesn’t feel the same way as him…

A few metres from them, a mother scolds her child loudly for running too close to the platform.

Oh, of course. They’re in public. Kissing his cheek is normal, if they’re supposed to be boyfriends. This is an act, after all.

He doesn’t notice the red hue crossing Mikleo’s cheeks as he buries his head in his new book.

Just over an hour later, they find themselves back in Ladylake, in front of the aqueduct. In the afternoon sun, the lake glistens a pure blue. The slight breeze is refreshing, and Sorey feels his heart rate beat at a steady pace.

It’s somewhat odd, how calm he is, compared to earlier. Then again, he is with Mikleo. For whatever reason, even just having him nearby is more calming than one might expect. Especially considering his feelings for him.

(That only makes this all the more difficult. But this is the kind of thing only fools in love do.)

“What gorgeous weather,” Sorey says, finally breaking the silence between them.

Mikleo hums in agreement, though his eyes are not trained on the view before them. Rather, he’s looking at Sorey, analysing him. Still, he does not speak, merely waiting for Sorey to continue.

(Note to younger self: don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s better if you experience this pain.)

“I’ve really enjoyed this week,” Sorey says, keeping his eyes trained on the lake. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s a surprise that people even believed us.”

“Well, you aren’t exactly the best liar in the world, and your acting could be better,” Mikleo says in a teasing tone.

“Come on, I thought I was pretty convincing,” Sorey says, glancing over to Mikleo with a smile. “I’m being serious, though. Every day this week has been a blessing.”

Mikleo doesn’t say a word, though a thousand thoughts pass through his eyes.

Sorey turns to face him, head-on.

“I’m really grateful you went along with this,” he says, reaching to take Mikleo’s hand. “So thank you.”

He holds Mikleo’s hand lightly, though Mikleo doesn’t pull away. Encouraged by this, Sorey allows himself one last indulgence.

Gently, giving Mikleo time to pull away if he wants, he lifts Mikleo’s hand and presses a chaste kiss on smooth skin, letting it linger for only a moment before he steps back, letting the distance between them grow.

(Even the pain is worth it, to have this experience.)

“I don’t want to have to lie anymore.”

Mikleo freezes under his touch, shoulders tensing up. His eyes are wide, eyebrows drawn together in question. He almost looks shocked. Maybe he’s just realising how deep Sorey’s emotions run, and how his own can’t match them.

The last remaining shred of hope in Sorey’s heart shatters.

“I hope we can still be friends, at least,” Sorey says, trying to keep his voice steady and smile through the pain.

(It doesn’t work.)

With a final squeeze of Mikleo’s hand, he moves away, whispering an apology to the wind before turning, walking away. Leaving Mikleo behind. Leaving behind everything they’ve been through this week, free of both regrets and hopes.

When he gets back to the apartment complex, the door of the flat next door to his own swings open as he passes.

“Sorey! You’re back early,” Rose says cheerfully.

He gives her a small smile, hoping his pain isn’t too obvious. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Rose’s expression turns to surprise and concern, her eyebrows drawing inward as he makes his way towards his own door. She grabs his wrist to stop him at the last second, holding her own door open with her foot.

“What happened?” Rose says.

For a moment, he thinks about telling her. Part of him wants to let out this pain, to share his sadness. But he won’t let others worry about him.

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “Nothing happened.”

Rose doesn’t look at all convinced, but he doesn’t give her time to push any further. He pulls away from her grasp, opening his flat door and closing it on the sound of her calling his name.

“Don’t you lock me out, I can tell you’re not telling the truth! Sorey, come on!” She knocks on his door, still yelling through it. “Did something happen with Mikleo?”

Sorey sighs and moves away from the door, ignoring her. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be able to tell her, but tonight all he can bring himself to do is whisper another apology as he leaves Rose hanging on the other side of the door.

He dumps his bags on the sofa in the living room and heads to the bedroom, flopping down on the mattress. The cool sheets engulf him, and he lets out a long breath.

It’s over, now.

#sormik #tales of zestiria #tales of zestiria fanfiction #toz #this chapter is shorter than the other ones #and stuff happens #so i'll actually apologise for this one #sorry guys #i hope next week makes up for it #you know what i just reread the chapter and actually #i like it #so i hope you guys do as well #sorry if it disappoints anyone

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