#〘 oathbroken / balfour. 〙

[musescomefrompain]

Recovery in Fillory

Quentin was feeling rather a lot of things at the moment. And, really, what was new about that? He had always felt like he had enough emotions to fill an ocean but was equip with a teaspoon to to contain them. It wasn’t exactly what you’d call fair, but then... life really wasn’t anything that anyone with Magic would call fair. Maybe that was why he retreated to Fillory for recovery. That, and the fact that the centaurs were the best chance he had a regaining use of his left arm. Which, made things complicated. 

The Centaurs lived on the Eastern border of Fillory. Some of the camps even crossed over into Ferelden. The camps and the centaurs made up a sort of sovereign nation of their own... a country within a country in a way that reminded Q of the Vatican... but it was still better for a king of Fillory to do his due diligence in clearing with neighboring countries ambassadors that he was welcome in their country, should he accidentally cross a border. 

He bunnied for Prince Balfour to meet him at the border in order to make his case. Eliot sent him out in his crown, and Q had to admit (if only to himself) that he felt like a tool standing on the edge of Fillory, wearing a crown, leaning against a tree, waiting for someone who very well might not show up. 

@oathbroken​

[magicaepoena]

      ❛    goddamnit    –    not you again.    ❜

      random thing. // oathbroken

[stormlit]

@oathbroken replied to your post: i’ve finally found a good enough cap of georgie’s...

she really is an entire foot shorter than balfour i’m gnna scream

[herofate-blog]

“    So...  Loghain    ?    Backstabber  extraordinaire    ?    Could  probably  be  charged  with  regicide    ?    That  Loghain    ?    I’m ��not  here  to  judge  your  decisions  -  you’re  in  charge,    I  guess  -  but  how  much  did  you  think  that  one  through    ?    Especially  since  we  are  now  one  less  companion.    And  don’t  say  it  doesn’t  matter  because  we  gained  one.    ”

@oathbroken​  ❤’d

[arborvitas]

@oathbroken​​ — bal.

    ‘ No, no, no — I didn’t mean to make it sound like a nuisance or anything. ’ Quite the opposite, actually; Balfour’s relieved she’s called. For… whatever reason it actually ends up being, even if it’s a shite one. He was perilously close to falling into his own head for a minute there, and for reasons he isn’t willing to think about, seeing Julia’s name when his phone lit up did him wonders. ‘ What’s, um — ’ He clears his throat. ‘ Are you alright? What’s up? ’ 

       “i’m all right. just been settling back in for the term. getting used to real life again.” julia smiles to herself as she sits back on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine, pausing every so often to scan a page with interest. “except…i seem to have become famous at every bodega in new york city overnight. so i thought, who better to confide in about this than the guy i apparently—hold on, i wanna get this right—” 

        biting her lip and trying not to laugh, julia sets one magazine aside and picks up another. “ah—bewitched—” that one is dropped and another taken up. “enchanted, and—” she repeats the process once more. “mesmerized. three completely different kinds of spellwork, by the way. i’m almost flattered.” there’s a definite smile in her voice. 

[magicaepoena]

      ❛    ¡ ay , mi amor ! you are just a ball of complex emotions , aren't you ?    ❜

      mini starter. // oathbroken

[servingliesarch]

@oathbroken​ from here.

     ❝  And if I were? Would you mind?  ❞  He teases right back, all raised eyebrows and cheeky smiles that make him look far too pleased with himself. Still, there’s a shadow of concern that passes through his eyes, and soon enough he’s back to looking sympathetic. The stubborn streak is not gone however, and it’s clear that he wants to make his point whether Balfour wants to hear it or not.  ❝  Oh, now don’t be fishing for compliments. I know I have my way with words, but we wouldn’t want that head to get too big.  ❞  He smiles before falling into a short, but thoughtful pause, simply watching him with quizzical eyes. Finally,  ❝  You shouldn’t think that way. I know things can be hard, given the circumstances, but that’s even more of a reason to try. If it’s not for you, as you say, then who is it for? You deserve love like any other... Or at least some fun. In fact, I think you need it.  ❞

[hedgebtch]

@oathbroken.

    It’s weird, the shit you can get used to if you’re stuck around it long enough. Like… Balfour is standing here, now, and he is very aware of the fact that he’d have been freaking the fuck out a couple of years ago. Pre-Circe. Pre-Hedge. But what’s a dead body, exactly, when you spent a year crawling through the worst of the fucking worst to find a goddess? And when she leaves you high and dry and the only place you can turn to is the angriest woman in New York?

    It isn’t a comfort. It isn’t nice being perfectly aware of how desensitised he is.

    ‘ — I’m not really surprised you murdered him. ’ A beat. You. That’s a bit rich. Like he wasn’t in on it. ‘ What do we do with the body? ’

Well, shit. For all the use he’s been in the past, and all the headaches stemming from his stupid fucking Pete scams, it seems that a few... character flaws... really cannot be overlooked for a four-star-general and a tall glass of mediocre-white-man-in-a-suit. It’s a shame. She was having fun inherently debating gender politics within the first test. Mind games are as mind games will, and all that.

Red ebbs into the grey lining of the suit, and she’s half expecting him to get the fuck back up and apologise for making such a colossal, ass-clenching fuck-up, but no. Her spell-casting is nothing if not perfect, and his tie splays across the tiles like a teeny tiny present ribbon.

“Well, he still has Reed’s Mark, so...”    Her boot gently nudges against his arm, and then again, as if to check, and she reaches into her jacket pocket for a loose cigarette to pull from its pack. Pete poses no threat of witchcraft discovery from humans, mostly because he doesn’t have a magic bone in his body anymore and all he got for it was a shitty tattoo that puts Death Eaters to blame. 

                          “That’s... not really my problem.”

[seekerdivine]

@oathbroken​ The thing about command was hard decisions.  Such was no stranger to the inquisitor, nor to the revered hero of Ferelden. Cassandra held her fair share as well,  and now it loomed most imminently.  Reports of the calling, a source from Corypheus.  It left them in a precarious position, Advisor Balfour  at risk to succumb.  ( and perhaps he already has, given his position - her stomach churned ) .  The seeker observed in wait,  reading every fine feature and subtle movement.  turning keys of phrase over and over again in her head.  Keeping an eye for any sort of treachery.  

The war table was dismissed, and she remained, " Your grace, if you could remain? ” it was not so much a question or a request.  “ I hate to bring this up, but it is something we need to speak of. ” and it’s there, the tiniest bit of softness breaking through a detached tone of command. 

[stormlit]

.

[ofhighever-arc]

@oathbroken​ from here:

          ⸺ ❝ 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒. 𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒. ❞ lily didn’t smile. she did recognize the joke, the TEASING, but she didn’t smile anymore. not like before. it seemed as if while balfour got a little better everyday, lily got a little worse. he was HEALING, she could tell, but she was deteriorating. night terrors, anxiety episodes --- and she kept all of it to herself. 

          still, being around him was about the only time she felt somewhat close to NORMAL.  ❝ where is the closest ‘civilization’ anyway? ❞ she could definitely do with some rest. LOTS of it, in fact. the only way she could get decent sleep anyway was when EXHAUSTION won her over. otherwise she would end up thinking and remembering and that was the one thing she didn’t want.

          ❝ i hope it’s not TOO crowded. ❞

[coincount]

@oathbroken​ said: Remind me never to get on your bad side.

                 It’s been a few weeks of just getting used to the new place. To begin with, it was rest, fluids, food, sutures. She was in and out of consciousness, hauling every aching muscle up as she went to check that Lev was still laying next to her, still breathing, and she vaguely remembers the hazy image of Balfour and a snarled get the fuck away from him. They got over that with sleep, and the start of... it’s not trust, but it’s something. Abby from Santa Barbara is a few months late, but at least there’s a whole fucking base out here. 

She sheds Santa Barbara like shearing her own head -- she and Lev trimmed each other’s hair, so hers looks less like a hacked mess of spikes from when the Rattlers lopped off her braid, and his looks more styled and fitting. (She’d offered it as a sign that they were going back to normal -- a hey, want me to do yours? and a ruffle of fingers through the thick of it. She never said it’d be perfect, but she remembers doing the same for Owen every few weeks when they were younger.) 

Since then, it’s been less preparing to get back to normal, and more forcing it into existence. She may ache, but she wakes early to jog -- light, cautious, around the base, and only after a grain of trust hung between them -- and every so often finds herself back in the gym. She has to start slow -- muscle wastage is a total fucking bitch. But she’d wanted to help -- work detail, patrol shifts, even just some heavy lifting (which she’d quickly remembered isn’t exactly the best idea for now. This body doesn’t feel like hers.)

They’re on the outskirts for a while, but, current circumstances aside, they had no choice but to trust. The Fireflies brought them food, sutured their wounds, gave them cots in the infirmary and then moved them to their own cabin that they’d share and keep to themselves until they decided on whether there was more than just the initial trust of Abby from Santa Barbara, Dr. Jerry Anderson was my father. For now, it works. They’ll see.

She meets Bal out on the range, and eight head-shots and a shoulder clip later, the both of them pull the headphones from over their ears and she gets to work reloading. It’s been a while since she’s held a gun, and it’s totally fucking cathartic to finally be out doing something.

                    -- Remind me never to get on your bad side. She catches it, tilts her head, and a half-smile curls at the side of her lip. It’s been a while since she’s held a gun, and she’s just fucking glad she’s still good at it. (She remembers the bets with Manny, or the way Owen’d critique her stance and she’d tell him to shut the fuck up and beat her perfect score, and she feels... sad. But right. It’s hard to explain.)

                 “I’ll save you a special bullet, but you might miss that one too.”

[arborvitas]

@oathbroken​ — balfour.

    Well, this is typical, isn’t it? Balfour comes all this way — at Quentin’s suggestion, strangely enough, though he hardly needed convincing — to look out for Julia and he is the one who ends up getting hurt. It isn’t anything terrible, just a cut to the arm. Balfour has suffered worse injuries for worse reasons and worse people, but Julia has insisted on taking a look at it and, well… even if it’s a waste of time, he isn’t against prolonging the time spent in her company.

    They have been talking as she works, like they often have in the castle’s library. There is still so much he wants to know about her, about Earth, about her friends, that he thinks he could listen to her for hours and hours and still not get bored. So. He keeps asking questions, and she keeps answering them, sometimes supplying a few of her own, and being cared after for a minor wound is suddenly the best thing that has happened to him all week.  

    ‘ How does a Child of Earth come to know healing? ’ he asks after a short time. It’s a natural enough place for the conversation to go. ‘ From all you’ve told me, I find it… difficult to imagine where you would acquire such a skill. And become so competent at it. ’

    He smiles that same old smile, content with her company and friendly as ever. 

       “Would you believe I’m self-taught?” There’s a vague note of irony in Julia’s tone, if only because that’s been the answer to so many similar questions. Not that she hasn’t had help along the way, but there’s no mistaking the mark of a hedge witch on her body and in her spell work. “I guess I just wanted to know, so I learned.” She shrugs. “I may not have the benefit of a fancy Brakebills education, but I’m stubborn and resourceful, so...I found my own way.” 

        And what a way it has been that Julia’s avoided going into detail about so much of it. There are wild enough stories between the dark times to fill any silence, but it can be twice as tiring to skirt around them as it is to barrel through. And Balfour has proven himself unexpectedly easy to talk to, with that smile. 

        Julia bites her lip, failing to mask a smile of her own as she gives her head a little shake. “Magic has disciplines—like specializations in a trade, or with weapons—it’s sort of innate the same way. Point being, my discipline is knowledge.” Poultice applied, she carefully wraps Balfour’s arm with a bandage. “And I think you’re going to live.” She smiles as her eyes lift again to his face, fingers idly slipping from his bicep to linger on the inside of his forearm, pretending not to notice how close they are as an excuse not to back away. “...lucky you.” 

[magicaepoena]

      continued from here. // oathbroken

      HUFF FALLS FROM THE MAN’S LIPS IN EXASPERATED FASHION.    this magic stuff definitely doesn’t come easy & sometimes , no matter how much he practices , he just can’t seem to get it.    it can get frustrating , to say the least.    hands land on hips , throwing his head back to look at the sky.    a smile moves to his lips at the sound of balfour’s laughter.    at least he can still keep a positive attitude , for the most part.    head tilts back into place , watching the other’s fingers move appropriately in comparison to his mess.    digits move at his sides , mimicking the man’s movements at the same time.

      okay !    he thinks he’s got is now.    hands move together in front of him , attempting to copy what the other had done.    a movement of the wrist &    –    a minor explosion.    hues widen slightly as he stares at the trouble he’s created , it’s dissipating on it’s own at least.    ❛    –    that wasn’t supposed to happen , was it ?    shit , man how are you so good at this ?    ❜

[servingliesarch]

@oathbroken​ said :  never forget you’re my favorite. and i’m so sorry.

     ❝  Oh no, you’re not.  ❞  His voice is sharp, and though he looks like he's about to cry, the quick swipe to his face seems to steady him enough to hover his hands over the wound, muttering some words and letting his eyes flash gold. Merlin’s not stupid, really. He’s been trained to be a physician since he was eighteen, has studied the arts of healing ever since then, and to a normal, seasoned healer all this would look hopeless. But with all the years of practice he has, all the power he's made of that seems wasted every time someone he loves is dying, well  —  he’s not about to lose another. Determination settles on his face, with lips drawn tightly and a wrinkle between his brows. He mutters another spell to give himself more time.

The look he gives Balfour is heavy, and sort of frantic. The blood has gotten all over Merlin’s clothes, but he ignores it.  ❝  Don’t you dare. If you try to say goodbye to me right now, I’ll kick your arse. Don’t think I can’t do it, just ‘cause I prefer to use magic to fight.  ❞  He grabs his hands, brings them to the biggest of the bleeding wounds, presses his palms against it.  ❝  You’re not dying on me, you prick. It’s not your time yet, so shut up, and keep pressing. I need to make the poultice for the poison.  ❞

[hedgebtch]

@oathbroken​.

    ‘ Wait, you’re fucking off? ’

    Of course she’s fucking off. She’s Marina. The thing is, though: Balfour is pretty sure this is all going to go tits up as soon as he’s the only one left in charge. It’s usually what happens, and only sometimes through any fault of his own. This sort of feels like a ticking time bomb, however, and he doesn’t much fancy the idea of being the one looking after things when it all kicks off. Mostly because he’s pretty sure it’ll be something stupid and dangerous.

    ‘ You know it’ll get fun the second you do, that’s all. Look, it’s — ’ He glances to the Thing. It’s vibrating on the table and he feels a little sick just looking at it. ‘ Doing whatever the fuck it does. Thought you’d be all over it? ’

                    “hmm...  yep.  so i’m gonna go,  and you let me know when it starts doing something else,  ‘kay?  because if i wanted something to sit and vibrate all day,  i’d get something with batteries in and i’d have a much better afternoon.”

while bal can hone his babysitting skills,  she can get on with literally anything else and not have to watch it shake on the table like that.  and besides,  there’s something about that which looks like it’s about to...  Do Something and if it’s messy, then the last thing she needs is to go home covered in some magical slime shit.  bal is more expendable for that type of thing and while she stands a few metres back with her arms folded against her chest,  he can take the forefront until...  what the fuck? what the fuck are they even waiting for?  marina isn’t known for her patience and this whole stupid situation is starting to fuck her off.

              "you can work on your parenting skills.  so.  you’re welcome.”      babysitting a vibrating cube isn’t exactly her idea of a fun-packed afternoon,  and considering it’s been doing the exact fucking same since they got there,  she’s pretty sure there’s nothing she’s going to miss.