#*solemn watcher voice* you get to tell her all those things you wanted to after all and I hope it might help to lessen the pain you carry

[an-emovision]

𝓡𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 - 𝓣𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲

A/N: I love him an unhealthy amount. Warning(s): Angst, breakup ——————•°•✿•°•——————••——————•°•✿•°•—————— ❀- Oh boy ❀- Busy. Very very busy. ❀- He cant always make time for you, theres things that he just has to do like post the patrol routes every morning and give Collei her tasks and heal the idiot adventurers that for some reason lack any kind of common sense ❀- Hes basically the Avidiya forest version of Kokomi, except hes more sassy then sweet ❀- Its not like you arent busy as well, you are the hero of Teyvat after all and you just arrived in sumeru not long ago. Theres still many things to do and explore, not to mention all the people you have to help to and all of your daily commissions ❀- Really you two could go weeks without seeing or hearing from each other, it worried you and rightfully so. ❀- You loved Tighnari and the two of you had a beautiful relationship. ❀- But you wanted to be with someone you could actually.. well, be with ❀- So one day you were returning to Gandarva Ville with one solid goal in mind, you didnt want to do this but part of you knew it would be better for both of you ❀- You found him sitting in his house, working on whatever he had in those viles, some sort of murky green liquid that you'd rather not know about ❀- He didnt even have to look at you to know it was you who stepped in, his ears do pick up everything after all. ❀- "So you return, i'd thought for sure that you'd met your end to some kind of wild animal or mushroom by now" He joked, turning to meet your eyes only to see the solemn look across your once gentle features ❀- He raised an eyebrow at your expression, surely his jokes weren't so terrible that you looked genuinely sad about them ❀- How were you supposed to do this? Surely theres an easier way to tell him without outright saying it. You racked your brain trying to come up with an easier solution, only to find nothing. ❀- A deep sigh brushed past your lips which only raised your beloved forest watchers concern ❀- "Love?" He called to you, moving to step forward and maybe wrap his arms around you. It'd been a while since you two had seen each other so naturally he'd been missing being close to you. ❀- Before he could get any closer you took a step back, this caused a pit in his stomach to form and an almost hurt expression to overtake the smile his lips held just a moment ago

❀- "Did.. something happen?" Arms dropping to his sides he had a feeling about what you were going to say, but his eyes were franticly searching your features. Looking for any hint of a smile, any indication that this might be a joke ❀- And then you said it, voice cracking as you fought back your already brewing tears. He'd hoped that he heard you wrong, vision blurring as he thought of ways he could convince you to stay. ❀- As you stood there, staring at the floor, convincing yourself that your decision was final you had hoped he would say something anything to try and get you to stay with him ❀- That never came ❀- A gentle "Okay" passed his lips as he refused to allow his tears to flood past his waterline. Tighnari didn't ask for an explanation, he wasn't naive, already knowing that you and him hardly ever saw each other. ❀- "All i ask is that you take care of yourself, if not for me then for yourself" his words no louder then a whisper, knowing well that if he spoke any louder his voice would crack ❀- You'd nod and turn to leave, fighting back your tears as you briskly left the vile. All while ignoring the greetings of its inhabitants. ❀- You wouldn't see Tighnari again for a long while after that. ——————•°•✿•°•——————••——————•°•✿•°•—————— 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉!

[iceepsy]

The Keyblade War. Part 5. The end.

The last is Ira. A world of forgotten dreams.

Edit: had to remove the links

With that last strike, shale crushing bone, Ira knows that the war is over. It’s in his gut. It’s in the way the wind silently blows through, echoing the deep canyon, mocking him. It’s in the look - the hurt - on Aced’s face as the boulders fell. It’s in the last words he exchanged with Invi, brisk and professional. It’s in the last glances he shared with Gula and Ava before they all parted ways.

Ira’s breath hitches; Aced’s face rings of shock. It’s unforgivable; he let his anger overtake him. He immediately regretted his actions, but now, he can only accept the consequences. He closes Aced’s eyes and mouths a prayer to whichever god or master listening. How much darkness must be in his heart for him to kill an old friend? Never had he thought the hours (days, years) he spent pouring over the book of prophecies would amount to this ending. Ira carefully moves the cracked conglomerate crushing Aced and gingerly lifts him up, throwing his companion’s arm around his shoulder. He’s reminded of those years ago, seeing the brawnier man clutching against the brick and mortar buildings of Daybreak Town. “Gula,” Aced whispered, “has known all along there was a traitor.” Even Gula’s obsession and methodical examination of the lost page was unable to prevent this tragedy.

“The darkness will prevail and the light will expire.” The Master was right. As he always was, despite his eccentric ways.

Aced’s limp despite Ira’s grip. He can only hope the others made it out alive. He has to believe even when faced against such a miniscule probability. He has to believe. To keep his light. That said, he tries to ignore the piled bodies of the keyblade warriors, some even younger than Ava and Gula, littering the landscape. 

Ira finds Ava in a cove, not far from his fight with Aced. At first, he saw pink, relieved she was only resting. He hobbles towards her while half-carting half-hauling Aced. He whispers another prayer for defacement of the dead. Upon closer examination, his head peaking into the crevice, Ira’s heart breaks. Ava sits against the wall, her head limply flopping forward. Only half of her treasured mask rests precariously in her open palm. The other half must have long since been destroyed. He tries lifting her head in hopes for a small miracle. For Ava to stir. Instead, he’s met with the sight of her pained expression and the feeling of slight resistance from her contracted muscles when he tries to smooth her face into peaceful sleep. 

Ira fights back tears. What did she go through to cause her to have such nightmares? He shutters and stops the train of thought. He had secretly hoped of the six - five - foretellers, Ava would be the one to make it out. And not him. Ava, their ray of sunshine. Ava, and her fierce loyalty. After the traitor incident, Ava refused give up Gula’s location. He’d catch her sometimes, head tilted, staring at him. She’d soon rapidly turn her head, embarrassed to be caught. Ira didn’t know what she was thinking; Ava hides everything under a laugh and a smile. He had only hoped she realised it was only in best intentions that the truth of the traitor needed to be revealed.

He pockets her mask and lifts her body with his other hand. Groaning under the combined dead weight, he continues forward.

He makes it to the middle of the battlefield where the five of them first met, surrounded by their union members. It must be an omen for the center and four outreaching paths are cleared of debris, keyblades, and fallen warriors. Ira sets Ava and Aced down before he himself collapses from the strain. On a better day, he would have wondered about the perfectly formed sigil and it’s relation to the prophecy. However, the prophecy has been told and he needs to find Gula and Invi.

Invi was the hardest to find - or to say the least - all of Invi was hard to find. Despite the horrors he experienced during his training, nothing prepared him for the smell of charred flesh and the sight of Invi laying like a ragdoll. Ira is reminded of the explosion he heard hours before. Ira would rather fight thousands of shadows, fight the darkness of his own heart, than come to terms with Invi’s death. At least shadows don’t rot, waiting to be buried, when killed.

He doesn’t want to limp closer and see the state of his longest friend. Ira holds his breath. Like with Ava, Invi’s mask was blown in two. The exposed left side of her face was partially blown off, exposing the soft tissue underneath. The blood has already drained from her face, giving her a ghostly-pale complexion, and gathered at the bottom of her body. It leaks, spreading across the dried ground. Ira takes a step back, unable to hold in his nausea. One arm has been blown off; her other limbs have been twisted in unnatural angles. Bile forms in his mouth. He runs to the closest rock before throwing up.

He finds her arm blown several feet away. It’s stiff and it doesn’t feel right touching it. It’s sacrilege. Ira tries to reattach the arm but healing magic does not work well on the dead. Carefully, he tries to move Invi’s other limbs into a better position for carrying but it’s difficult with her body setting into rigor mortis.

Ira looks at Invi, head cradled against his shoulder, her good side facing him, and thinks back to feather-light touches, surreptitious glances, and whispers he knew would amount to nothing but enjoyed nonetheless. He admits to wishing more than once for heated, impassioned nights that never came. Their relationship had always been kinesics cues layered over a rouse of professionalism. For as long as he’s been a keyblade wielder, Invi has always been by his side. She was a silent, sturdy presence who kept him grounded. Really, he couldn’t wish for a better partner. And now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Who will he awkwardly try to make laugh, leave bookmarked sections of poetry for, or ask for guidance on public speaking? Invi looks to be smiling when she died. Ira can only hope she’s in a better place.

He brings her back and lays her next to Aced.

He finds Gula last, at the other end of the canyon. Like Ava, he’s sitting in a small alcove, his hands placed neatly on his lap. Unlike Ava, Gula looks to be peacefully sleeping. It’s only when Ira called and shakes the young man’s shoulders that he realizes Gula has been long dead.

Ira’s relationship with Gula was unfortunately never the same after his talk with the younger man. Stubbornness must have been a trait in all of them; he remembers raising his voice, stuttering, reasoning his actions were justified, desperate to get information out that could prevent the darkness. At first, though he admitted his role, Gula remained mum. As hours dragged on, Gula relented and talked about the page. It was a terrible explanation filled with vague mentions of a sigil. Ira remained stupidly unconvinced, “Lies!” he exploded, “Where is your proof? You must know more!” It was only when he saw the fright in Gula’s eyes that he let the leopard forteller go. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have apologized.

Gula has extreme burns on his face, and traces of them on his hands, where the skin did not heal properly. Ira can only imagine the fight he’s been through. It’s the tell-tale signs of Ava’s magic, though it’s curious why she only healed his hands. 

Ira places him next to the youngest foreteller. He knew how well the two got along; Gula’s crush was the worst kept secret of the Daybreak Town Clocktower. Maybe the afterworld would be better.

With everyone found, the realization sinks in. Ira collapses, his knees suddenly weak. Given how careless a leader he was, why is he the only one left? Given how careless a leader he is, maybe he does deserve such a fate? 

Ira sits down in front of his dead companions, staring over their bodies at Kingdom Hearts.

___

Epilogue

Luxu heaves a sigh as he stares down at the sight beneath him. Ira sits down next to his - no, their - dead friends. How often he wished to join them, talk with them, and interact with them again. Ava sought him once before the war started, but it was as said in his copy of the book of prophecies. Their blades would clash in a resounding sound, indicating the unravelling of peace and the start of the war.

The sixth apprentice summons the Master’s keyblade. The book had written none would be alive. If Ira still breathes, would he have to kill him? Luxu really hopes for that not to be the case. The Master only told him to be a watcher of the events, but a prophecy is a prophecy no matter how it’s carried out. If they deviate, then Luxu has to step in and fix it, or so he was instructed. So far, he hasn’t needed to interfere. The other’s books did not tell the full story; only he and the Master know of the events to come. “It’s for the best,” the Master told him in an unexpected moment of solemnity. 

He looks across the night sky. The scattered keyblades form a perfect outline of the sigil; the Master’s plan is proceeding smoothly. The thing Gula had tried to summon was but a pale comparison to the real Kingdom Hearts. None of them ever knew what it looked like and Lux was a poor substitute to real hearts. The fake is already fading from the sky. The real one…he hopes will never appear. “Are you satisfied now?” he asks into the air. The blowing wind only continues to tease him. Maybe. Maybe.

Gripping the Master’s blade, Luxu descends to finish the prophecy.

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 25 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M (for language) Warnings: Canon-typical threat and violence Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Home

"I'm sorry, I don't have time to deal with mercenaries. Try Lady Cassandra."

The visitor's protest was overridden as Cullen turned away, surrounded by messengers who all seemed to need his attention right that moment. His exasperated gaze rose from the never-ending demand for his time, lighting on Rory where she'd paused on the edge of the circle around him. She had been hoping to catch him for a few minutes after dinner, but no such luck - evidently things were starting to really pick up with the growth of the army, bringing all the logistical nightmares of housing, equipping, training, and feeding so many with it. His eyes lingered on her, the hidden expression in his gaze frustrated by the duties that kept them from reuniting after her absence. He looked under siege, and there was only one thing she could do to try and help.

Inserting herself into the gaggle of bodies around the commander, she waited for a pause in the chatter. "Excuse me, commander ... a word?"

Cullen looked as though he could have kissed her then and there, seizing upon the opportunity to dismiss the hangers on, if only for a few minutes. "Of course, Healer Rory," he answered officially, gesturing for her to step away with him briefly. "How can I be of assistance?"

Aware that the messengers were still close enough to hear her, Rory took the opportunity to shame the lot of them for their disregard of Cullen's own personal needs. "By remembering that the camp and village will shortly be settling down to sleep, and that you should settle down with them," she said, warmed by the merest hint of a smile on his face. "Unless all this work involves the imminent and certain death of someone friendly if you don't get to it right now, it can all wait until morning."

She felt his fingers brush her wrist, hidden from the watchers by the turn of her body. "I do have duties, healer," he pointed out. How does he know me well enough to prompt me without being obvious about it?

"One of your duties, commander, is to make sure you are fit to perform those other duties," she countered, her expression taking no prisoners even as she turned her hand, stroking her fingertip over the prominent pulse in his own wrist. "I'll be coming around here in an hour, and I don't expect to find you hounded by people who should know better."

This, she aimed at the collection of messengers, knowing as well as they did that the people whose words they carried were, for the most part, already settling down to sleep and wouldn't accept any response until the morning, anyway. As the group fidgeted under her disapproving gaze, she felt Cullen's hand envelop her own, warm and grateful and frustrated that he'd have to wait a while longer before he could welcome her back properly. She squeezed his hand in answer, slipping her palm from his grasp as she stepped away.

"One hour, commander."

Turning away, she couldn't help smiling as Cullen reinforced her order to the group who pressed in around him.

"You heard the healer, gentlemen - we all need our sleep ..."

Amused by the half-hearted chorus of agreement, Rory was about to walk away when she caught sight of a familiar stranger standing nearby, his expression a mix between annoyance and exasperation. And no wonder - if Cullen was telling him to try Cassandra, that meant he'd already tried Leliana and Josephine without success. The man raised his hand to catch her attention as she moved away from the group.

"Excuse me ... miss?" he called, and Rory felt a small thrill at just how familiar that voice was. "You seem to have some authority around here - maybe you'll talk to me."

"I'm just the healer." She shrugged apologetically. "They're just frightened I won't be nice to them next time they need me. I'm Rory ... nice to meet you."

"Cremisius Aclassi," he introduced himself. "And healers get things done. At this point, you're my last chance."

Rory smiled warmly, feeling the inner fangirl squeal happily yet again on meeting a loved character for real. "Not quite your last chance," she assured him. "Are you in a hurry to leave?"

Krem shook his head. "Not especially, but I could do with getting moving again before the end of the week."

"I'd suggest catching the Herald on his way out of the Chantry meeting tomorrow morning, then," she offered. Just like in the game. "We don't have a single leader, so everything is decided by committee. Kaaras is the only one who can get them altogether without the need for a disaster first."

"Huh." Krem considered her, obviously deciding whether or not to take her advice. "How'd I know the Herald?"

"He's a little hard to miss," Rory assured the man with a smile. "He's the only Qunari in the village." Krem's snort of laughter didn't surprise her - he, of all people, should be able to spot a Qunari. "Do you have somewhere to bed down for the night?"

He nodded easily. "Got a horse to keep off the chill. Thanks for the help."

"It's what I'm here for," she grinned back, letting him walk off. So that's Krem, is it? Handsome describes him better than homely in real life. No wonder he had no trouble until the corrupt medic mix-up; he's more man than some of my exes have been.

Still, she felt a happy little thrill at the knowledge that Kaaras wouldn't be the only Qunari in the village for much longer. There was a faint concern regarding Iron Bull's Ben-Hassrath observation skills - she was pretty sure her behavior was filled with barely discernible tells that hinted she wasn't native to his world. What would he make of that, she wondered. She still caught Solas watching her suspiciously from time to time, but he hadn't accused her of not having a presence in the Fade since that initial conversation. Perhaps he had found her there, after all. She wasn't sure how she felt about that prospect.

Her feet took her down to the edge of the ice as she pondered these thoughts. She didn't feel unsafe in Haven, but she wasn't naive enough to assume that couldn't change on a knife's edge. All it would take would be one unwary word hinting at her foreknowledge of what was coming, and she'd lose all the friends she'd made, labeled as a spy and a traitor. She'd read that in at least one dark MGiT fan-fiction, and the lesson had been learned. Lying was the only way to stay safe - she just had to hope that Iron Bull wasn't going to out those lies, or her Thedosian adventure was going to become a little too real.

She was still a little concerned that Kaaras was more inclined toward the templars than the mages. On paper, it was a tough decision ... at this point. And yes, he was wary of magic in general, which was understandable. But if he didn't bother to take the false Fiona's invitation to Redcliffe, that was a bad move, in her mind. Neither side was guiltless, it was true, but abandoning the templars wouldn't leave the Venatori's numbers bolstered by some of the most powerful magic users in the world. Not that anyone knew any of this yet, of course; the only way they would know was if Kaaras swallowed his pride and at least pretended to care enough about the mages to go to Redcliffe. He hadn't asked for her opinion, though, so she had no way of nudging him in that direction. Hope was all she had there, for now.

"I should have you -"

Helene's training had paid off a little too well. Startled out of her thoughts, Rory rammed her elbow backward without thinking. Cullen grunted in surprise as she made contact with the solid metal of his cuirass. He then found himself staring as the senior healer of the Inquisition let out a yell of pain and danced away, swearing like a trooper and clutching at her throbbing elbow. Before he had the chance to apologize, her foot slipped on the ice. He lurched forward to try and prevent her fall, misjudged his own traction, and wound up taking her down with him as they both crashed onto the unforgiving surface of the frozen lake.

The breath knocked from her body by the fall, Rory wheezed, still gripping her bruised elbow. "I'm seeing stars," she gasped. "Are they real, or did I hit my head?"

She heard Cullen groan beside her. "I hope they're bloody real," he answered, "or I hit my head, too." Metal protested as he rolled onto his side to check on her. "Are you hurt?"

Looking up into his worried eyes, she felt herself melt just a little at his concern, her mouth tilting into a gentle smile. "I might need mouth to mouth."

He snorted with laughter. "You're fine," he translated with a smile of his own, rising carefully to his knees on the treacherous ice. "Up you come, Healer Rory."

"Anything for you, commander."

With one or two false starts, they managed to get upright and off the ice, sharing embarrassed laughter as each dusted the snow off the other. Cullen's smile faded as they stilled, his gaze focusing on the little cut above her right eye and the yellowing bruise that surrounded it. His gloved fingertip just barely grazed that tender spot.

"I told you not to go," he reminded her in a solemn tone. "Helene should never have let you out of her sight."

Rory softened at his obvious concern once more, despite the I told you so scolding implicit in his words. "It wasn't her fault," she insisted softly, determined to protect her newest friend if she possibly could. "You haven't punished her too harshly, have you?"

He shook his head, though there was banked anger in his eyes. "Not harshly," he promised, his tone suggesting he was already regretting being lenient. "I was sorely tempted to dismiss her entirely for allowing you to get hurt, but the Herald convinced me otherwise."

She felt a small part of her unwind at his assurance. "She's been teaching me how to defend myself," she offered up, as though this might mollify him a little.

"So I've heard." His warm gaze raked over her clothed form, and she felt herself blush. "Cassandra says you're covered in bruises."

"I've earned those bruises," she protested mildly.

Cullen's lips twitched, that kissable scar pulling tight as he almost smiled with more than his eyes. "Come with me."

Like he had once before, she offered no argument, letting him take her by the hand and lead her away from the lake, away from Haven, into the trees to the west of his training ground. She hadn't been this way since before the Conclave, tensing as she remembered how that little outing had almost gone. But she wasn't alone this time - Cullen was with her, and there was no one whose presence made her feel safer. He drew her along the path until they were out of sight of the village, toward the flicker of firelight behind shuttered windows she knew to be a cabin that stood out here, unused.

"Who's using Master Taigen's cabin?" she asked curiously as they drew closer.

Cullen very nearly hesitated before answering. "We are," he told her in a cautious tone, as though uncertain how she would react. "I thought ... well, privacy is not ... and no one else was ..." He sighed, shutting himself up before trying again. "I know your duty to the clinic keeps you there most nights," he said carefully. "But I want ... that is, I should very much like it, if you were to spend some nights here, with me. And that sounds like I'm asking for ... for intimacy you may not be ready for."

"The word is sex, Cullen, and it's not going to make your tongue burst," Rory informed him in her own turn, even as her entire being seemed to mellow toward him. He did this for me. For us. "I ... I'd love to spend every night with you if I could. We'll just have to settle for some."

"I know it must seem very forward to ask this of you, but ..." He trailed off, hopeful pleasure painting his handsome face. "Yes?"

She couldn't help the delighted smile that rose in answer to his moment of incredulity at her reply. "Yes," she confirmed, almost laughing when one simple word seemed to drain the tension from his shoulders. "But ... are you sure? I know you're a very private man, and there's already talk about us -"

"Let them talk." His lips curved in a wide smile at her open incredulity. "Just don't give them any details to talk about," he added, claiming her hand once again to open the cabin door and draw her inside.

"I wouldn't do tha- "

For the second time, he stopped her words with a kiss, pressing her back against the door as his gloved hands cupped her face. There was no haste in this kiss, no need to be wary of unwelcome eyes spying on them; so languorous and tender, that she found herself trembling as her lips parted, offering herself up to this gentle, passionate man who never ceased to surprise her. He took what she offered and gave more, his hands leaving her only so long as it took to remove his gloves.

"I've missed you," was whispered against her lips, a solemn secret only they could know, as she felt the living warmth of his skin against her own.

She rose to claim a kiss of her own, fumbling to discard her gloves, the bulk of her cloak, letting her fingers grip his belt to pull him closer. All those doubts, all that homesickness; it was all forgotten in the immediacy of his languid kisses, the unhurried caress of his hands from her neck to her back, drawing her into the dizzying security of his embrace. Until he pressed just that little bit too hard on a certain place, and she broke contact with a sharp gasp, flushing with chagrin as his grasp instantly gentled, recognizing her reaction as pain.

"I'm sorry, I -" He sighed as she rose onto her toes, brushing her lips to his to silence the apology. "How are you bruised on your back?"

Rory bit her lip, not really wanting to admit to this. "I may have fallen off the horse a few times, too."

Cullen drew back, staring down at her in disbelief. "I'm never letting you travel anywhere without me again," he said finally, fond humor coloring his eyes the shade of top-shelf whiskey.

She giggled, knowing she must seem like something of a disaster zone to him. "I'm not that hopeless, I promise."

He rolled his eyes patiently. "Well, we can do something about the bruises, anyway," he said with a long-suffering sigh, turning away. "Take your clothes off."

Rory felt her mouth drop open in shock. One blunt order, and she was simultaneously tense with shyness and throbbing with lustful anticipation. Wait ... how does sex cure bruises? Think with the fluff between your ears, woman. "I beg your pardon?"

Cullen glanced back at her, the tips of his ears pink as he caught up with what he'd said. "Not for that! Not that it wouldn't be ..." He stopped, taking a deep breath. "I have elfroot salve," he said carefully, holding up a small pot she recognized from her own clinic. "I know you forget to tend your own injuries."

"Oh ..." See? No dominant sex when just cuddling too hard hurts. Even real lions are gentle with their ladies when they get hurt. Embarrassed by the pang of disappointment, she cleared her throat awkwardly. "All my clothes?"

He chuckled at her mild reluctance, and she suddenly remembered how he had described her ingrained modesty as charming. "I need to get to your bruises," he pointed out, but relented in the face of her faint uncertainty. She wanted him, definitely, just ... she wasn't ready for that yet. "Here." He bent, pulling a shirt from a chest by the wall, and tossed it over to her. "That should spare your blushes."

She caught the garment with one hand, hugging it automatically to her breast as she stepped toward the bed. "No peeking," she heard herself say, and inwardly groaned. What are you, twelve?

Cullen's smile was amazingly soft as he held her gaze, touching one hand over his heart. "On my honour," he promised, quite deliberately turning his back even as he began to remove the outer layers of his armor and clothing.

She forced herself to turn away before she could get sucked into watching him undress, turning her attention to undressing herself as quickly as she could. She wasn't as shy as she seemed, but she thought she might spontaneously combust if she had to strip while he watched her. This was not what she had been expecting tonight, but then ... what had she been expecting? A few smiles, a few kisses, to be told off for her misadventure in Val Royeaux ... not Cullen moving their relationship to this next level, and certainly not him playing healer to her. At least Fabian's teasing grin when he'd wished her a good night made sense now; clearly he had been involved in some of the planning for this. And that was another thing - Cullen had planned this. For her; for them. They were a them, a couple, without needing to discuss it at all. You couldn't help loving a man like that. Wait a second ... love?

Pushing that thought firmly out of her mind, she stripped down to her smalls, pulling the shirt he'd given her over her arms to fasten the large buttons. It was clearly one of his own - it smelled of him, ridiculously large on her smaller frame. The hem hung below her backside, the sleeves beyond her fingertips. She had no doubt she looked very silly; she certainly felt a little off-balance, acutely aware of her bare breasts beneath the thin shirt, not used to being this close to naked in the company of a man who could make her melt with just a smile.

She tensed as his hands closed over her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest as his lips brushed her left temple.

"Relax, Rory," he murmured to her, no doubt aware of the way her breath stuttered at his closeness. "Did you know there's a hoof-print on the back of your thigh?"

She laughed, glad to release some of that nervous tension. "I wondered why it was aching."

He chuckled incredulously, retreating from her back to crouch behind her. "Stay still," he warned, just before gentle fingers spread the cool salve over that bruise. "I don't know why I'm surprised you let a horse stand on you."

Grateful for the distraction from the toe-curling sensation of his callused fingers stroking her sensitive skin, Rory felt herself giggle again. "I think I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe," she admitted ruefully, glancing down as he inspected both her legs for more bruises.

"At least I can be confident you know how to fall," he commented, lifting the shirt she wore as he rose to his feet - just high enough that he could salve the bruise on her back. "I've seen you do it often enough."

"That is true, I don't ever hurt myself," she conceded, unable to help the way her muscles quivered at the hot, confident passage of his hand over her back and side. "It always seems to involve someone else."

"Or a horse," he added, letting the shirt fall to turn his attention to the glorious bruise on her elbow. "Surely you didn't hit me hard enough to do that."

"Hmm? Oh, that one's accumulative," she explained, watching as he gentle rubbed the soft salve into her abused skin. "I've elbowed Cassandra a couple of times, too."

Cullen snorted with laughter at her explanation. "And you say I'm no good at taking care of myself."

"To be fair, I never said I was, either," she defended herself, only to feel her breath catch in her throat with involuntarily shy apprehension as his fingers touched the buttons of the shirt she wore. "Cullen ..."

"Easy," he murmured to her, as though she were a skittish horse that needed calming. "I just have to get to this last bruise on your shoulder."

As the fabric opened under his guidance, sliding back to reveal her right shoulder - and probably a certain amount of breast - to his gaze, Rory found her own eyes focusing on the open neck of his shirt, right at her eye-line. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips as she studied the line of his throat, enthralled by the visible jump of is pulse as the gentle passage of his hand over her skin drew a tender moan from her throat.

Cullen stilled at the sound, and she froze, hardly daring to drag her eyes upward to meet his. But dare she did, only to find his gaze was fixed upon her, dark with unambiguous desire. He twisted away to set the little pot down safely ... and suddenly she was in his arms, strong hands smoothing down over the pert roundness of her backside to lift her up as his mouth ravished her own. She moaned into him, arms and legs wrapping about his firm body, his own throat echoing the sound to fill her mouth with the taste of his breath. There was no mistaking the ardent press of his desire against her own liquid heat, separated only by thin layers of cloth, yet there was no mindless urgency in his kiss. Indeed, even as he bore her onto the bed, pinned between the cool softness of the blankets and the hard heat of his form, his kisses softened, gently easing them both back from the precipice until they simply lay together, nose to nose, breathless, unsatisfied, but content.

He drew his fingers over the cut at her temple, dipping his head to brush a protective kiss to her hurt. "Never again," he promised fervently, rolling to draw her close into his arms as she reached to pull the blankets over them both. "I will never let you be hurt again."

And as she lay there, safe in his arms, a slow smile touched Rory's lips. Who needed toilet paper and indoor plumbing, anyway? This was all she needed - this man, in her arms; her in his arms; together by choice, not design. Cullen's hands, his kisses, his hidden smiles - they all grounded her, gave her an anchor in the storm that was this world and her strange presence in it. This, right here, was home.

[livingdarwinaward]

In the city that doesn’t exist

Chapter 4: A collision of nothing and all

@givethispromptatry Masterlist

Wow, this took a long time.  Sorry about that

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Back in the rented room, I realized: I didn’t need a guide to get back.  And then: or the map.  Then I saw Pan on one bed (luckily, we had a room with two, despite the fact that the Watcher hadn’t been expected) with her head in her hands as she swore-- quite colorfully-- at her two new headaches.  “Still have a headache?”  I asked her.

“Slightly better, but who knows how long that’ll last,” she replied, looking up at me, then flinched.  “Yes guys, that’s what happens when someone goes into the actual Rift,” she muttered to John and Mara, then to me, “I didn’t know you could get into the Rift from the Hub.”  She said it like a statement, but the question was clear.

“I actually have questions for you about that.  But, uh, how could you tell I went into the actual Rift?”

“Your eyes,” she said.  “People’s eyes always look like that after being in the Rift.  Now, what do you want to ask?”

“What are Rift beasts?  ‘Cause I mean--” I stopped myself, not exactly sure how to say what I meant.

“Well,”  Pan started, “No one’s really sure but the Ancients, and they keep a tight lip on that kind of thing, but I’ve heard theories.  Some Watchers--”

“Only Watchers?”

“Few people know about other worlds, mainly Watchers.  Now let me finish.  Some say that Rift beasts are living things from the worlds that somehow get into the Rift and just became one with it, losing everything of what they were before.  I’ve heard others say the Ancients put them there to guard the borders between worlds, but I think it’s a combination.”  She muttered something under her breath, then flinched as if John and Mara had responded, which they probably did.  I noticed as her shoulders had slumped, and her face turned from serious to solemn, but she gave me a ‘go on’ look.

“What exactly keeps the Hub separate from the rest of the Rift?”

“To my knowledge, basically shitloads of spells that keep the reality of the Hub connected to itself and even more to keep the Rift beasts out.”  She looked at me.  “Lee told me that the spells work by making sure the Rift beasts don’t know about the Hub, or any world.  Why?”  

I was about to answer, but Pan seemed to realize what had happened .  “Shit.  You saw one didn’t you?”

I nodded.  “It was in a place connected to the city, but I think it was deeper in the Rift than the rest of the city.”

“Did it notice you?”

“I think it did, ‘cause it talked to me, but it could have been talking to itself.  It had a stash of stuff in that cave, I think it was all from at least one world.”

“Shit.” Pan got up and muttered to herself as she searched through her bag.  All I could make out was “what are the chances,”  and “talking to,”  before she snapped her head up.  “Mara, that was a rhetorical question.”

She had just found what she was looking for when an unnatural shriek rent the air.  Pan stumbled, grimacing, then croaked out, “Well, so much for those odds.”  A pause, then, “Mara.  Not helping.”  She swallowed, clearly scared, but when she looked up at me, she had hidden it, and no longer looked like the scared kid she was.  “Well,” she said, then paused when her voice wavered.  “That was the beast.  It found the Hub, and now we have to stop it.”

“I’ll help, it my fault it’s even here.”  I scratched the back of my neck.  “But I hope you have a plan.”

That got a shaky smile.  “I said ‘we’ for a reason, Fern.  And yes, I have a plan.”  She was furiously tapping the stylus she’d pulled out of her bag on her palm as she muttered, “Fuck knows if it’ll work, though.  C’mon, stay close and out of the way, and after we get the damn thing taken care of, we’ll need to go to where it was to get the stuff out.”

I nodded.  “Okay, I’m following you.”

Pan nodded back, steeled herself with a few deep breaths, and walked out the door.  I followed as she clambered up to the roofs to be able to get through the cloud sector.  I really wish I could figure out how to Run here.

“What I wish I could do is banish the thing to the Rift, but if I did, it’d only find its way back.  So what we have to do is capture it and bring it to the Ancients in Arel so they can do whatever they need to with it.”

“I’m going to assume your plan includes how to capture it and not just that we have to capture it.”

Pan looked nervous for a second before she spoke, but she tried to cover it as she said, “...I have an idea, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.”  

“That’s--”

“Reassuring, I know.”  She sounded more weary than sarcastic when she said it.  Then she winced, but otherwise ignored whatever John or Mara said. “But we have neither the time nor the methods to contact the Ancients.”  Pan seemed to be headed for a small glassware stand, but I couldn’t imagine why.

“Silver said her siblings monitor all the worlds and here, maybe we’ll have backup?”

“Silver Fletcher?”

I nodded.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it.”  She stopped at the stall and asked the merchant, “Do you have any jars or bottles for sale?  Preferably with a lid?”

The merchant paused his rushed packing.  (Like most sane people in the Hub, he was fleeing the streets, but was still stupid enough to delay himself to try and bring his wares along.) to say, “Sorry ladies, I’m packing up for the day.  Whatever the fuck that thing roaming around is, it’s killing business.  No point in staying, y’know?”

“Business isn’t all the way dead, we’re--”

Pan interrupted me, pulling out her Watcher’s badge and saying, “Look, we’re trying to get rid of that thing, and need a container to do that, so--”

“Girlie, I don’t know who you stole that from, but you’re not fooling me; I know you’re not a Watcher and i’m leaving now.”  He crammed his last bottle into a box, picking them all up and preparing to leave.

Pan got a devious smirk on her face as she studied the stand itself, a beautiful glass and metal counter with elegant decorations and bright colors.  “This glass is enchanted, isn’t it.”  Not a question, and that clearly confused the merchant.  The stylus she held colored at one end, and she suddenly drew two circles, one on the glass and the other on the metal, then runes in each.

The merchant was now staring.  “What are you doing?”

Pan flipped the stylus in her hand and used the other end to tap both circles, which folded up and formed into a bottle and lid.  She grinned.  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the damages,” she said as she grabbed the bottle and walked off with me in tow.  Pan looked around, but I couldn’t tell what she saw as she picked a direction, and I somehow knew she was headed for the cave sector, despite the shifting streets.  Time seemed more screwy than normal, so I counted my steps.  By the time I got to a hundred steps, the city had shifted several times, the stucco storefronts changing to a park overlooking the ocean with a sheer cliff separating the two, to a massive glass atrium filled with all manner of plants, then suddenly to an enormous cavern, where Pan spoke.  “We need to find that cave you found the beast in, ‘cause I need the edge of the Rift for this to work.  I know it’s near, in this cavern I think, but we need to find it fast before the city shifts again.”

“How do we find it, exactly?”

“Look for where reality is most damaged; you can tell by the colors and distortions.”

“Colors?”

“Where they’re weakest,”  Pan said.  “The less color there is, the closer to the Rift you are.”  Pan was walking around the room, looking all around.  I started doing the same.

Now that I knew what to look for, I saw it easily.  Colors washed out, not turning paler, just losing color.  The light was weird, too.  I couldn’t tell if it was getting darker or lighter, but I soon figured out that it was just ceasing to exist.  I didn’t notice this in the cave.  I quickly lost all sense of time, and though I counted steps, I had no clue how far I’d gone.

Pan came up to me, not from behind as I’d expected, but from where I’d been headed.  “Found it,” she said.  “You didn’t notice it before because there was no active destruction of reality-- the cave was mostly stable so it just enhanced the visual effects of the Hub.  you also weren’t expecting it.”  I must have looked confused, because Pan snorted a laugh and said, “Ravens can hear certain thoughts and whispers from the dead, at least where I come from.  You didn’t notice before?”

“I thought you were just really good at reading people.  Why are we walking away from where we need to be?”  Pan didn’t look back to answer, just kept walking.

“All I needed here was to copy a spell into the bottle, basically duplicated the Rift and its protections in miniature in the bottle.  Which I did,” she said, showing me the runes on the bottle.

“How the hell--”

“This rune duplicates anything I’ve connected it to, in this case the border of the Rift and the spells protecting it.  To be perfectly honest, I don’t actually know if it worked, but we can hope.”  Pan marched over to the entrance of the cavern, following the path of destruction that I could now see.  “Luckily, we don’t need to keep finding the path as the city shifts,” she muttered as the cavern rippled into the decks of ships.

“Why?”

“It’ll lead us directly to the beast.”  Pan grinned cheekily as she said it.

“Don’t know why that’s lucky, I’m not overly fond of dying.  And you know what I meant.”

“What, have you done it before?  The path doesn’t change because the ‘physical’ space doesn’t, what changes is the things in it.”

“The idea of dying dammit!”  The ships turned into a bridge through trees, then to the middle of a small pond.  “Sonofa--”  

A loud, awful screech from the beast interrupted me.  I stood there with my mouth open mid-word for a few seconds after the sound stopped.

“--bitch.  Godsdammit, my ears.”

“It’s close,” Pan said.

“Never would have guessed,”  I replied, looking around when we ended up in a large, open square near the Keep after another shift.  The beast was perched (can a non-physical being perch?) on a fountain in the square.  Pan opened the bottle as the beast let out another shriek.  Then she stopped and let out a truly impressive stream of profanity.  “Oh gods, what now?”  I leaped back as the beast lunged, landing in midair before bolting to the side.  I only dimly registered that I was Running again before the beats lunged again and I let myself drop out of the way.

“I just fucking realized that I haven’t a clue how to get the damn thing in the bottle!”  Pan scrawled another rune in the air and tried to flick it toward the beast, but the rune just flickered and died with no effect.  She was starting to look tired, but I couldn’t help with that even without the beast lunging at me every few seconds.

The beast lunged again, and I bounded up, hoping my warped perception was accurate enough for me to be out of the way.  It worked.  This time, I thought.  Don’t fucking jinx it.  Another lunge, and I dropped, just as the city shifted and we ended up on the edge of a sheer cliff over the ocean.  Well, I did, twisting my ankle as I landed sooner than I’d expected.  Pan was not so lucky, the ground vanishing from underneath her and she plummeted.

“PAN!” I was about to go after her when she came back up, shrugging off her raven form.

“We’re fucked,”  was the first thing out of her mouth.

“Where’s the bottle?” I yelled as we both dove away from another lunge.

“That’s why--”

“Right here!”  a new voice yelled.

I had just enough time to think, Who the hell is that? Before the beast was gone and a woman appeared next to me.  “Where the hell did the--”

“In here,”  the woman interrupted me, holding up the bottle.  “We should clean up.”  

Pan nodded in agreement as she walked up to us, then gave a smile of thanks to the woman.

In my head I agreed, but out loud I said, “How the-- who are you?”

Pan’s smile suddenly looked forced.  “I think you can figure it out.”  The woman’s voice was strange, with a similar tonal quality to Silver and Lee.

Shit.

The woman, definitely an Ancient, must have seen my realization, because she smiled.  “Yeah.  Sammy Fletcher.”

“Well, looking at you, I’d never peg you as Lee’s twin.”  Sammy’s smile widened as I gestured at her in general.  “‘Cause, you know.”

“Few do.  Now come on, we should clear out that cave.”