#... wait I actually. that information is able to be ascertained from information already on this blog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sesamestreep · 3 years ago

Text

if dreams were thunder, and lightning was desire

(read on AO3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: It's one thing to agree to get married for symbolic reasons in the name of political unity. It's another thing entirely to actually be married. [AKA - further adventures in that arranged marriage medieval fantasy AU of Rogue One]

A/N: Here I am, arriving three years late with proverbial Starbucks, to post my now once-yearly attempt at fic! I'm actually posting this as a birthday gift to my forever girl @firstelevens who is also responsible for helping me flesh out this idea in the first place.... [checks notes] uh, four years ago. Happy happy birthday and thank you for being the most supportive and wonderful friend in the multiverse, even though I’ve recently become terrible at replying to texts. Further notes are there if you want them if you follow the AO3 link above!

Cassian Andor wakes up to an empty bed, which is not, in and of itself, a startling thing. In fact, there was a time, only a few months ago, when it would have been a much greater surprise to find the other side of his bed occupied. Even now that he is married, waking to find his wife already up and gone is not an uncommon occurrence. The first few times he woke to find her gone, he had been confused, certainly, but he has adjusted to her habits and the sight of her side of the bed empty no longer inspires panic or concern as it had in the beginning.

However, this morning is different. Cassian’s wife is an early riser almost without exception, but she is not normally so far ahead of him that her side of the bed is as cold as it is now when Cassian runs his palm over the linens. Even more startling is the darkness that still lingers outside the window. It’s not yet dawn, then, and she is already awake and about the castle. That is highly unusual.

Perhaps, if Cassian had slept well, he might let these confusing details go. But he never sleeps well the night before he travels and tomorrow—or today, actually, given the hour—he leaves on a scouting mission to the southern provinces. He has slept fitfully most of the night and apparently only got enough actual sleep to let his wife slip out of their chambers unnoticed. He sighs and throws off the bedding, knowing he won’t get any more rest until he knows where Jyn has gone.

In little more than three months of marriage, Cassian cannot say he’s gotten to know his wife well. She is secretive and aloof, as a rule, and he has done all he can to give her the space she seems to yearn for, because he knows that, while she has accepted him as a husband, she did not choose him. Their union is a symbolic one, designed to mollify two disparate factions of the Rebellion as they struggle to rule together. He and Jyn are not royalty or even particularly important people, aside from that. No one is waiting on them for heirs or anything of that sort, and they can spend the rest of their lives as indifferent to each other as they please.

Still, Cassian cannot help that he has learned things about his wife, in spite of the careful distance that exists between them. He is a spy, after all. His job is to discover new information, even—or perhaps, especially—when the other party does not wish to give it to him. Jyn is adept at hiding things from others, but even she is not a complete mystery to him. No one is, for one thing, but she has the distinct disadvantage of sharing a bed with him.

What he knows does not amount to much, truly. Except that he had heard his wife complain more than once, in an undertone to her brother, of how restless and bored she feels cooped up in the stone walls of the castle. That, and the early hour where almost everyone else will still be in bed, suggests to Cassian that he would do well to get dressed and try to find his wife outside.

His instincts are correct in this case, as he finds her on the southern lawn outside the castle, standing alone and, he imagines, waiting for the sunrise that is beginning to tinge the sky with an orange glow just above the horizon. He takes the opportunity, before she hears him approach, to pause and take in the image of her, alone in the pretty half-light of the early morning.

She wears no overcoat, which irks him for reasons he does not fully understand. By midday, there is a good chance it will be a balmy spring day, but now, it is still chilly and damp without the sun to warm them. Jyn could catch a cold in this weather and Cassian has never known someone who can be so cautious and so careless at the same time.

On the other hand, she did go through the trouble of getting fully dressed before heading out, so perhaps Cassian should be thankful. He apparently also got more sleep than he realized, because he hadn’t heard any sound at all while she got her clothes on in the dark of their bedchamber. He half-expected her to still be in her dressing gown, given her lack of concern with convention.

He wishes he could say she looked tranquil as she surveys the forested land that borders the castle, but, for all he can only just make out her features in the minimal lighting, he can tell she is frowning. He thinks, absently, that she is beautiful nonetheless and then regrets it. He should not be distracted by her looks when he knows she is unhappy.

The distant call of a bird draws her attention in his direction and he sees the way her eyes widen in alarm when they land upon him before she thinks to hide her reaction. His opportunity to observe her unnoticed is gone, and he has no choice but to cross the distance between them, though he does try to appear unhurried.

“Good morning, Captain,” she greets him as he comes nearer and he almost stops short.

It always trips him up when she refers to him by his rank. It’s fine when others do so—that is protocol—but hearing it from his wife always strikes him as odd. He has told her as much, but there are moments when she defers to it still. He believes, though he has no proof of this, that she does it on purpose, that she only uses it when she is in a certain mood. Cassian has yet to ascertain what that mood is—if she is being sarcastic, if she is angry, if it might be her way of showing affection, even—but he knows there is some motive behind it that he does not understand. If he knew, he might be able to respond in some clever way, but as it is, he is at a loss for words.

“Good morning, my lady,” he says, and perhaps he is cleverer than he gives himself credit for, because Jyn’s frown deepens momentarily before she can stop herself. “You are up early today.”

“As are you,” she says, her tone suggesting that she heard the question hidden in his statement and she won’t be responding to it.

Cassian laughs, without meaning to. “I couldn’t find my wife this morning. It was an alarming way to wake up.”

He expects a terse response from her, saying that she is always awake before him. Instead, Jyn’s eyebrows raise in surprise and her frown eases, just a bit. “You were worried?” She asks, disbelieving.

“I—of course I was,” he replies. He is always worried, he doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed yet.

“About me?”

“Yes,” he says, puzzled by her need for clarification. “We’re married. It is my duty to worry about you.”

Jyn tsks at that, whether in understanding or disappointment, he’s not sure. “And you are always dutiful,” she says, her tone unreadable still.

“I try to be,” Cassian says, feeling like he is stuck in a game of wits for which he is unprepared. He is capable and coherent around others, but his wife always has the upper hand on him. It never feels like he has the right answer for her. Even now, she nods before looking away, back at the horizon as it becomes rosier by the moment.

“Are you well?” He asks, when the silence starts to stretch out too long.

She blinks in confusion when she looks back at him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I—yes, of course,” she says, and he realizes it was the question that confused her. “Do I not look well?”

Another question to which there is no right answer, he thinks. “It’s very early to be out of bed,” he says, instead of answering her question.

“I am always up early.”

“Not this early.”

“Have I done something wrong, Captain?”

“Jyn, I’m not chastising you,” he says, laughing. He’s not amused, not precisely, but if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll probably shout from frustration. This feels safer. “I’m asking if something is troubling you. I want to know that you are alright.”

His obvious frustration must outweigh her annoyance, because everything about her—her expression, her posture—immediately softens, the fight going out of her instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, not when you’re leaving this morning, but I see that I did anyway.”

“You didn’t. I...never sleep well before a journey.”

“Oh?”

He hesitates to say more, lest he seem like he sought her out just to drop his problems at her feet, but she is watching him with interest and, if he’s not mistaken, concern, so perhaps she would not mind. “All of the details, the logistics of the trip, I go over them, in my head, all night long. I’m practically frantic by morning, most of the time.”

“I—” Jyn cuts herself off, shaking her head, like she had something to say and thought the better of it. “I have a hard time imagining you in a frantic state,” she says, instead.

“Well, then,” he says, feeling some strange twinge of pride, “I suppose I am doing my job well.”

“As a spy, perhaps,” she replies, her tone unreadable.

“What other job do I have?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he’s not, officially speaking, a spy anymore. His actual title has something to do with “intelligence,” a distinction he’s meant to care about a lot more than he actually does. He’s not spying in the same way that he was during the war, but he’s not delusional enough to tell himself that those aren’t the skills the Republic has kept him around for.

Jyn gives him a long, searching look. “It hardly matters,” she says, finally, waving a hand and looking off at the horizon again. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m a miserable excuse for a wife, though, not noticing that you couldn’t sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Of course not,” she says, smiling, though the light of it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You are far too polite.”

“‘Polite’ is not the first word most people would use to describe me, my lady.”

“‘Careful,’ then,” she says, pointedly.

Cassian nods, feeling as if he has lost this round. “That is far more likely.” He pauses before he says anything more, weighing the risk of it, but ultimately decides it might be worth saying. “I did not want to trouble you. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I often am, at odd hours,” she says, and there’s something light and teasing about it now. “And you could stand to trouble me more, Captain. I’ve never heard of such an undemanding husband before.”

Unable to parse what she means when she suggests he “trouble” her when he cannot sleep—and unwilling to use his imagination, knowing where it will lead him—he decides to address a less mystifying part of her comment. “I’ve told you that you needn’t call me that,” he says.

“‘Husband?’” She asks, innocently, though he sees a bit of performance in it.

“No. ‘Captain.’”

“Well, you still call me ‘my lady.’ Only one of those honorifics is still worth anything, and it surely isn’t mine.”

“I only call you ‘my lady’ when…”

“Yes?” Jyn’s features take on the expression of an animal that has backed its prey into a corner, leaving it no options of retreat.

Cassian thinks it unwise to point this out, though. He also thinks it unwise to finish what he was about to say, which is that he only calls her ‘my lady’ when he wants to call her ‘my dear’ or something equally sentimental that he’s sure she would not approve of. It feels disingenuous to him, as well. He simply finds his vocabulary for expressing the intimacy of living so closely with another person without encroaching upon the territory of affection rather wanting. He cares for her, of course—why else would he be out of bed and out of doors on a freezing morning if he didn’t?—but there is hardly a chance of love or even affection in a marriage as young and unfamiliar as theirs.

“When I do not know what else to call you,” he says, instead of the truth. It’s barely even a lie, but it nags at him like one regardless. He has been trying to lie less around his wife, but it’s a difficult habit to break.

“My name would work well enough,” Jyn replies, her tone caught somewhere between amused and suspicious.

“So would mine.”

She hesitates before responding, looking shy, although it is a rare thing from her. “I thought you might like it, being called by your rank.”

“Not from you,” he says, immediately. “I am called that by enough people. When I’m home, when I’m with you, I am just your husband.”

He doesn’t realize the way this sounds—sentimental, the very thing he was avoiding—until the words are out of his mouth and Jyn’s face goes blank with astonishment. She recovers quickly, though, looking down at her feet.

“As you wish, husband,” she says, quietly.

“Well, you know now why I could not sleep. What has kept you awake?”

“Bad dreams,” she says, matter-of-factly. “As always.”

“Always?” Cassian repeats, concerned. He didn’t know she had nightmares. She shifts in her sleep often, he has noticed, always twisting herself into shapes that cannot possibly be comfortable, but he’s never known her to cry or panic enough to wake herself, the way he associates with nightmares.

“Most nights,” she confirms, looking away to avoid his gaze.

She crosses her arms over her chest, although he cannot tell if it’s a defensive gesture or simply because she is cold. He decides to proceed as though it is the latter and begins to slip his arms out of his coat’s sleeves. The rustling of the fabric draws her gaze back to him and her eyes widen with alarm when she realizes what he means to do.

“Oh, no,” she says, waving a hand to ward him off. “Don’t bother. You will freeze without it.”

“Is that so?” Cassian asks, ignoring her protests and pulling his jacket off completely.

“I know how cold you get,” she says, archly. There are things she has learned from sharing a bed with him, too, it appears.

He doesn’t take the bait to argue with her and instead steps forward until he’s only a single pace away from her and sweeps the jacket over her shoulders. She stands stiffly as he does so, as if she cannot figure out her part in this scene. Or perhaps she worries the slightest gesture will upset the moment they are sharing, though this idea might be romantic nonsense on Cassian’s part.

He draws the coat tighter around her body by the lapels and he fidgets with the collar so it will stand up and block the cold wind, since she has no scarf. He wants nothing more in the world than to take her hair that has gotten trapped in the collar and draw it out for her, if only for the excuse it would give him to run his hands through it without the risk of giving himself away. All the while, Jyn watches him with her chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed in obvious but neutral interest. Perhaps he has already given himself away.

“Do not worry on my account,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He has finished arranging the coat around her shoulders, but his hands still linger on the lapels, holding it together, not wanting to let go and give up his excuse to be close to her. “If I am any good at my job, I will convince you to come inside before I even feel the cold.”

“Your job?” Jyn asks, warily. “As a spy?”

“Yes, and as a husband.”

“It is your duty as my husband to ensure I do not freeze to death?”

“Amongst other things.” He means it plainly enough, but in this close proximity, he sees the way Jyn bites her lip and look away at the implication of his words and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, no matter how artlessly. “I have nightmares too.”

Jyn’s head snaps up. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“About the war?”

Cassian swallows and words feel more difficult than he anticipated, so he simply nods. It’s probably important that his wife knows these things about him, especially if he wants her to tell him things too.

She watches him carefully, as if she’s waiting for a trap but Cassian just gazes steadily back at her, to see if she’ll trust him. After a moment, she sighs and says, more to his chest than to his face, “most of mine are from when I was young.”

“I have a few of those too.”

Jyn nods, closing her eyes. Cassian transfers the lapels of the coat into one hand, so that his other one is free to rub her shoulder. He wants her to say more, but he doesn’t want to pressure her. Without warning, she steps further into his embrace, close enough that she’s able to perch her chin on his shoulder. Though her face is turned away from him, the sweetness of the gesture nearly overwhelms him. He places his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, just so she doesn’t think to pull away.

“I think the trouble is not having much to occupy my time here,” she says, after a moment, and Cassian could collapse with relief at hearing her speak. “I’m not accustomed to idleness. And when I try to sleep, my mind is still awake and it gives me these vivid dreams.”

He can’t help himself any longer. He smooths a hand over the back of her head, brushing back some strands of hair that have come loose from where she’s tried to tie it at the nape of her neck. He thinks he feels her pull closer. “And what do you dream of?”

“My brother and I, when we were young, we were always out of doors. We’d have breakfast with my mother and then she’d send us away and we’d spend all day together, collecting rocks and shells from the beaches or scrambling over rocks. We never came home until dinner.”

“That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.”

“It was lovely,” she says, sounding pained, and he tightens his hold on her. “I had a very idyllic childhood, in most regards. Mostly because my parents didn’t tell me anything that was going on.”

Cassian laughs, lightly, at that. “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

Jyn buries her face in his shoulder, hiding from his gaze. “A lot of good it did me,” she says, and even her tone sounds closed-off.

“What happens in your dreams?” He asks, quietly. He knows she probably wants to end this conversation and pretend it never happened, but he needs her to know that he’s here, that he’s willing to listen.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if to prepare herself. “It’s just me and Bodhi as children, running around wild like always. At first, it feels like a memory, but then it starts to feel…sinister. I don’t really know how to describe it, it’s just this inexplicable dread that washes over me. Sometimes, we can hear people coming, a great mass of them, and we get scared. Other times, there’s some terrible storm moving in, faster than we can run. But we try to get home, anyway. We’re always running to find my mother, to warn her. It always feels so important that we get to her. And the ground falls away beneath our feet. Sometimes, I lose Bodhi; he falls or gets hurt and he’s crying out for my help but I can’t stop, or sometimes, he just disappears and I can’t remember how to get home. And I’m completely alone.”

After a moment’s silence, Jyn pulls back in his embrace. He doesn’t let her go, but he does give her some space. “Foolish, isn’t it?” She asks, with a false smile. He can hear the unshed tears in her voice and knows she’s trying to make light of it so he doesn’t think her weak.

“No,” he says, firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Not at all. But you and your brother survived the war, Jyn. And you’re together. It must be some comfort to you.”

“Yes, it is. Of course it is. But our parents didn’t survive. And that version of us, the children who used to play on the beach together, they didn’t survive the war, either. Our lives are so different now. I think that’s what the dream is about.”

“You wish to go home?”

“I wish to go back,” she says, bearing his personal question with grace. She thinks on it a moment, before sighing in frustration and shaking her head. “If only it was as simple as returning to Lah’mu. But I know that the place will not be the same now as it was then. And I am different too.”

“Perhaps that’s why something is always wrong in your dream,” Cassian muses. “You long to go back to that time in your life, but you know you don’t belong there anymore. Maybe that’s the source of the tension you feel in the dream.”

Jyn looks at him, appraisingly, and he worries that he overstepped somehow. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t seem offended. “What do you dream of, Captain?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You said you have nightmares too.”

“Oh, yes,” he replies, with considerable effort. He’d forgotten about that admission. “It’s difficult to explain.��

“Of course,” Jyn says, and her expression shutters immediately. “You’re under no obligation to tell me.”

Cassian reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s brushing against her collarbone, twisting the errant strand around his finger loosely. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says, quietly and more plaintively than he meant to. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about offending her by accident. “I’m not equivocating. I really do not know how to describe them.”

“Do you even wish to?” She asks, with a sharpness he deserves but is still unprepared for.

“No,” he answers honestly, which makes her blink in surprise. “I do not wish to tell you anything that will make you think less of me.”

“You should not worry about that.”

“Is your opinion of me already so low?” He asks, with every intention of making light of it but the question comes out unfortunately earnest.

Jyn, for her part, looks bewildered. “No,” she says, immediately. “Quite the opposite. I have a hard time imagining anything you could say that would make me think less of you.”

He takes a deep breath, looking away from her face and focusing instead on the strand of hair he’s still toying with. “I always dream of people I’ve…lost. People I’ve hurt or abandoned,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s much like what you’ve described, I think. They feel like memories but I know they’re not quite right. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happens. So I just have to live through it again. And again. Until I wake up.”

As he’s speaking, Jyn reaches for him, closing her hand around his wrist where it’s resting against her shoulder. When he feels the weight of her thumb pressing into the space between the bones of his forearm, he releases the lock of her hair, letting it unspool from around his finger. He’d pull his hand back completely, but her grip on him tightens like she’s read his mind. She brings his hand close enough that she can press her lips to the spot where his pulse is now racing wildly.

“You ought to have told me sooner,” she says, and she must be able to feel his heartbeat against her lips. The thought makes him warm with both embarrassment and anticipation.

He swallows with considerable effort. “To what end?”

“There are things,” she says, against the soft skin of his inner wrist, “that a wife can do. To help her husband sleep. To take his mind off his worries. I could do those things for you, if you wanted. You need only ask.”

She makes it sound so simple, as if they had the sort of marriage where they stated their desires plainly to each other, where they asked for what they wanted and then got it. But the asking is the most difficult part, in Cassian’s experience, or maybe the wanting is. They’ve been intimate together in the way Jyn is implying only once, on their wedding night, and, while enjoyable, it hardly left him with a strong sense of what his wife wants or expects from him.

Now, though, Jyn is offering that to him again. There was no mistaking it. His own need startles him, thrumming in his veins so loudly that he can hardly think. He has weeks of travel ahead of him, weeks of sleeping on the hard ground with only young, raucous soldiers for company. It will be cold and lonely and it will not even occur to him to complain, to dislike it, since it’s all he knows. Or, rather, it was all he knew before he was married. Before Jyn. He would be wise to avail himself of his wife’s offer while he can, enjoy the softness of her before he leaves and knows no softness of any kind for weeks.

He takes too long considering it, though, for Jyn’s face falls and she pulls back from him, only a little but it feels like a great distance, when they are this close. “Of course, you should feel no obligation to—”

“I don’t,” he replies, hastily. “I don’t feel any obligation.”

“I merely thought I should offer,” she says, and her eyes lower to avoid his gaze.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “What I meant to say is…what I feel for you is not obligation.”

He can feel her looking at him now, the scrutiny in her gaze obvious even with his eyes still closed. “And what do you feel for me, Captain?” She asks, carefully.

An overwhelming and terrible want , he thinks. A desire so deep he has yet to discover the bottom of it. A dangerous kind of possessiveness, like they belong to one another, even though they’re not the sort of people who belong to anyone, or the sort to hold onto anything they’re given too tightly, because they know the pain of having it taken away.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking at her and the only logical conclusion to that action is to step forward and kiss her. His hand, the one she’s not still holding captive, curves around her cheek as his mouth covers hers. Her lips part for him without hesitation and their kiss deepens. It’s as good as their wedding night, but this time he’s sharp and clear headed, not hazy and tired from long hours of drinking and celebrating, and he intends to memorize every single detail. The way she wraps her arm around him and her fingers dig into his shoulder blade, desperate for purchase. The sound of surprise she made when their lips first met and how it mellows into a quiet hum of satisfaction, as if she’s been waiting for this.

When she pulls away from him after a few moments, it takes everything in his power not to whine in complaint. But they’re both breathing heavily and Jyn’s hair is even more disheveled than before, which might be his fault but could also be from the wind that’s doing its best to push them back to their warm bed. He’s beginning to think they should listen, and he’s about to say as much, when Jyn speaks first.

“You’re cold,” she says, and he’s about to take it the wrong way when she pulls his hand from her face and wraps it up in both of her own to warm it.

He laughs, more overwhelmed than anything else. “I don’t feel it,” he says, because he was too busy feeling everything else.

She levels an arch look at him, either because she’s not impressed with his effort to flatter her or because she’s actually worried he’s going to catch his death like this, kissing her on a hillside in the early morning. He’s going to die somehow, it might as well be like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t try to kiss her again. He has the sense that she has more to say.

“You can kiss me in our bedroom, you know,” she says, making it worth the wait.

His heartbeat races, caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “I can?” He asks, stupidly.

Jyn searches his face, looking for something. Reassurance, perhaps, or sincerity. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she nods, slowly, and a smile overtakes her face. “You can kiss me anywhere you like,” she says, and it does his heart rate no favors.

Cassian steps back, grabbing her hand so he can pull her with him in the direction of the castle. She follows him and, as they walk, he pulls her into his side, burying his face in her neck and planting a kiss there. When she squirms slightly and elbows him in the ribs, he laughs against her skin.

“You said anywhere ,” he says, and she laughs too.

***

The next morning, the castle bustles with activity as Cassian leaves his briefing with Draven. Using the former seat of the emperor’s power as the headquarters of the government of the New Republic has always struck him as a smart choice on the part of the rebels, from a symbolic standpoint and in a practical sense of needing the actual work of governing the country to happen somewhere. By its very nature, a castle is almost comically oversized for one person’s needs, even a ruler’s, and so the former rebels had made a much better use of the space than the emperor ever had.

However, on this particular morning, with his mind already running through logistics of the mission ahead and planning what to say to the soldiers he’s bringing along, Cassian finds the crowded halls and corridors more grating than he normally does. It hadn’t seemed possible to feel this way during the war, when the emperor’s excesses had seemed so absurd and villainous, but Cassian is beginning to wonder if maybe the castle is too small for their purposes. The new government will loathe the idea of expanding, will object to spending money on something so frivolous, but it may be necessary, he thinks, as he bumps into yet another person in the crush of people moving about as he makes his way to the courtyard. The small party of soldiers accompanying him on this mission are gathering there now and they’re meant to depart in less than an hour. It will not set a good tone for the next few weeks if their captain keeps them waiting.

Much like in the old days—and it is staggering to think of the rebellion as something of the past, he realizes with a lurch—these missions are to gather information on activity across the Republic. However, unlike in the old days, he’s not trying to find the one piece of intelligence he’s certain will win the war for the rebels, which is a welcome change. He’s also, generally speaking, not in constant mortal danger anymore, though there are some areas of the country that the war ravaged worse than others, leaving desperation and crime in its wake. That’s why Draven still sends Cassian on these scouting missions, to see what corners of the nation still need aid or resources. Peacetime has been far from perfect for everyone, but even with the things he’s seen, Cassian can’t deny most people, himself included, are better off.

He’s so lost in his thoughts of the mission as he makes his way to the rendezvous point he arranged with the party that Bodhi must have had to call his name a half a dozen times before Cassian finally heard him. By the time he turns around, Bodhi is practically at his elbow, which is both impressive and guilt-inducing, from the way Cassian can see him leaning heavily on his cane. He does his best not to wince, because Bodhi doesn’t enjoy being fretted over, and slows down so his brother-in-law can more easily keep pace with him instead.

“Captain,” Bodhi exclaims, managing to only sound slightly out of breath, “I’m glad I caught you!”

“Coming to see me off, Captain Rook?” Cassian asks, pointedly.

Bodhi looks properly chastened. “Sorry, Cassian. I’m still not used to it.”

“Calling me by my first name or being a captain yourself?”

“Either,” he says, and Cassian understands. Bodhi was only promoted to Captain after his heroics in the Battle of Eadu and it was only a few months later that the treaty was signed. He’s only ever been a captain in peacetime. “I just don’t fully think of you as my sister’s husband yet.”

That does make Cassian wince and he isn’t quick enough to hide it from Bodhi, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm. “Not like that!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s nothing to do with you! I just can’t believe Jyn has a husband at all. In my head, she’s still six years old and telling me what to do all the time.”

“To be fair, she does still tell you what to do,” Cassian replies. “No change in your rank will ever change that.”

Bodhi laughs. “You’re certainly right about that.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Where is my sister, anyway? Isn’t she coming to see you off?”

“Oh, well, she’s—no.” He clears his throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes.”

Bodhi nods absently, seemingly satisfied with this answer and mercifully doesn’t ask for any further details. Cassian is not sure his nonchalant facade would hold up under questioning and the exact nature of the goodbye he and his wife shared this morning would soon be extremely obvious to her brother. It’s better for everyone if they somehow avoid that outcome altogether.

His relief is short-lived, however, when Bodhi suddenly asks, “And did she…uh…did she get a chance to, well…?”

They arrive at the training yard before Bodhi arrives at his actual question. Cassian pauses in the archway that leads into the yard and turns to face him. “What is it?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, I was just wondering if my sister got a chance to speak with you?”

“Bodhi, your sister and I are married. We speak with one another quite often as a result. You will need to be more specific.”

Bodhi makes a face that suggests he would much rather do anything else. “I thought she might have mentioned the incident with Senator Jebel?” he says, voice stuck between a statement and a question.

Cassian blinks, searching his memory for anything relevant. “Incident?” He finally asks, when nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“‘Incident’ might be too strong a word,” Bodhi admits apologetically.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide what the correct word for it is?”

“It’s just—if Jyn didn’t tell you about it, then it clearly didn’t bother her very much. I certainly don’t want to insert myself into the middle of your marriage!”

Cassian doesn’t point out that it’s a little late for that sentiment and instead asks, as calmly as he can manage, “What happened, Bodhi?”

“Well, it was just—” He pauses as a few people pass between them to exit into the yard, shifting his weight uncomfortably while trying to maintain his grip on his cane. When they’re gone, he continues, “Jyn and I were walking together the other day when we came across Lieutenant Tuesso walking with Senator Jebel. And, well, Kay was saying something to her about passing along some information for your upcoming scouting mission and—actually, Jyn told him to tell it to you himself because she’s not your secretary—”

Cassian smiles at that, able to picture it so clearly. Kay is perhaps his oldest friend and the person he trusts most in the field, but he and Jyn get along like oil and water. Still, if Kay had truly objected to Cassian’s marriage, he would have done everything in his power to stop it, but he’d only asked if Cassian was sure before giving his blessing. Well, it was more like his resignation, but coming from Kay, they’re basically the same thing. Cassian likes to imagine that Jyn’s fiery temper and sharp wit secretly amuse Kay but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it.

“But that’s not the point,” Bodhi says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The point is: Kay was talking about your trip and Senator Jebel asked why you were being sent off on a mission so close to your wedding, to which Jyn replied that it had been three months and that it wasn't terribly close. And then the Senator said she must have been very confident in…well, winning you over, if she was comfortable sending you off on your own so soon.”

“‘Winning me over’? What does that even mean?”

Bodhi looks uncomfortable. “You know, as a wife?” He says, sounding pained. When Cassian just stares at him blankly, he sighs and adds, begrudgingly, “Senator Jebel may have implied that a man of your rank might use a mission like this to…avail themselves of the sexual talents of women other than their wives, you know, during their travels. Unless, of course, the wife in question had already proved herself irreplaceable in that regard.”

Cassian knows that Bodhi has expressed himself clearly and put all of his words in the right order, and yet he still cannot comprehend a single thing he’s just heard. They stare at each other in silence—his baffled, Bodhi’s embarrassed—for a long time before anything clicks into place in Cassian’s mind.

“He said this to Jyn?” He asks, finally. It’s hard to speak around all of the dread pooling at the base of this throat.

Bodhi cringes. “Well, he really said it to me and Kay. He was talking over Jyn’s head, which sounds better but, as you can imagine, made it much worse.”

“And what did she have to say to all this?”

“I made sure to drag her away as quickly as possible and Kay distracted the Senator with just as much haste!”

“Bodhi,” Cassian says on an exhale. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on. “What did Jyn say?”

His shoulders sag in defeat. “She only said that she had no concerns on that front,” Bodhi says, plainly unsure if he’s helping or hurting at this point. “And then I made our excuses and got her away from him as soon as I could, I promise!”

“I believe you,” Cassian replies, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your efforts to take care of your sister.”

“I thought perhaps her feelings had been hurt by Senator Jebel’s comments, but since she has not mentioned the incident to you, perhaps she dismissed them as quickly as they deserved.”

“Perhaps,” Cassian says, for Bodhi’s benefit, but his mind is on his wife’s behavior this morning; all of her talk of the ways a wife could comfort her husband, how solicitous of his troubles she’d been, how vulnerable she’d seemed herself, even the kisses they’d shared and the way she’d allowed him to take her to bed. How different it all looked in this new light. Of course she wouldn’t mention the conversation with the Senator to him—to do so would be, in Jyn’s mind, to admit to a weakness, that she cared at all what others thought of their marriage or, worse, that she cared what Cassian thought of her as a wife—but it wouldn’t stop her from taking it as advice.

So she’d seduced him, and quite adeptly at that. He hadn’t even realized it was happening. He might have known better, under other circumstances, but he’d naively thought that being married to someone meant that you didn’t have to concern yourself with seduction. If his wife wanted to sleep with him, it seemed to him that all she had to do was show interest in such a thing or, heaven forbid, simply say so, and she could have her way. To play such games about it seems counterproductive to him, but given how easily he was manipulated on this occasion, Cassian might not be the person to ask.

“I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Bodhi says, anxiously, at which point Cassian realizes he has been staring off into space for a long moment.

“Of course not,” he says immediately. “I appreciate your telling me.”

“You won’t tell Jyn I mentioned it, will you?”

“No. Like you said, if it had bothered her, she would have told me herself.” It isn’t true, not in the slightest, but Cassian can see that Bodhi needs to hear it. “Besides, now I can use my spare time on this trip to plan my revenge on Senator Jebel.”

“Revenge?” Bodhi asks, wide-eyed with concern. It’s sometimes hard to believe someone as tenderhearted as he is fought in the war, let alone survived it.

Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not thinking of challenging him to a duel, Bodhi. Relax. But there are a great many ways a man of my position can make his life…uncomfortable and I shall enjoy thinking of as many of them as possible.”

“I am once again reminded how glad I am to be on your good side, Cassian,” Bodhi says, faintly. “And that you’re looking out for my sister.”

Cassian has never felt less capable of doing any such thing, not when Jyn is still keeping secrets from him and treating him as an opponent, but he nods anyway. His wife would likely roll her eyes at the sentiment, but he cannot stand by knowing that someone made her feel small even for a moment. He gets a savage sort of thrill out of the idea that she shall have his protection, whether she wants it or not.

“I am glad to be of service,” he says, vaguely. “But I’m afraid I must give the soldiers their orders now if we’re to be off on time.”

“Of course. Safe travels.” Bodhi offers his hand for Cassian to shake and then claps him on the shoulder as he takes his leave.

Cassian is certain that he relays Draven’s orders to the soldiers assembled in the yard as soon as he’s done speaking with Bodhi but he can’t actually remember a single thing he said by the time he’s securing the saddle on his own horse. His only excuse is that his mind is obviously elsewhere. Even though he knows he should focus on the mission ahead, he can’t stop thinking about Jyn.

As though he’s conjured her, she suddenly appears in the courtyard, with Kay and Senator Mothma in tow. The latter two are deep in conversation about something, while his wife doesn’t seem to be participating at all if the mild, far-off look on her face is any indication. It’s not surprising to see them all together; he’s sure that the Senator is the one who approved their scouting mission for General Draven and that he asked Kay to appraise her of the mission’s status because he’d rather not do it himself. And Jyn and Senator Mothma are often in each other’s company. Jyn often jokes that the Senator has claimed her as an unofficial assistant but Cassian suspects it’s just because she doesn’t want to admit that they are friends.

Before he can think better of it, Cassian calls out to Jyn, despite the fact that she’s on the other side of the courtyard still. It doesn’t occur to him until afterwards that shouting to get someone’s attention in a crowded area is probably bad manners, especially if that person is a lady. She looks startled to hear her name and the soldiers scattered throughout the area look up in shock at hearing him raise his voice at all. When her eyes meet his across the yard, Jyn’s neutral, distant expression shutters, turning into something more wary and focused. Cassian tilts his chin very slightly to beckon her over, not risking a bigger gesture lest the assembled soldiers think they’re about to witness something salacious. He’s determined they won’t, and Jyn catches his meaning anyway, even from a distance, and begins to make her way over.

He means to use the long moment it will take her to reach him to plan what he will say, how he will broach this delicate subject with her without implicating her brother in divulging the information to him, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her. She’s dressed plainly enough, not being one for embellishment, but her dress is a deep burgundy that suits and fits her well and she’s gingerly holding the skirt to keep the hem from dragging along the dirty ground. He only has to think on her clothing for a moment before his mind supplies the image of her this morning, as he was preparing to leave, just in her nightshirt, only deigning to get out of their bed to give him one last kiss goodbye. It was the only time he can remember being tempted to stay in bed rather than get on with his work. By the time she arrives, his face is warm with the sort of embarrassment he thought he’d grow out of once he was married.

“Yes, my lord?” She asks, and he’d tell her again to do away with such pointless formality if he couldn’t see the bright glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She’s trying to be funny.

He still has no idea what to say to her. His mind remains a complete blank, while his pulse is running wild. There is no way to tell her she should have trusted him enough to tell him about the incident with Senator Jebel, or that he knows the intimate moment they shared this morning was more inspired by that than by any genuine passion on her part, without giving away that he’s been listening to gossip. To admit that would only succeed in raising her defenses and causing an argument.

She didn’t trust him. That’s the heart of the matter and what is bothering him the most. Or perhaps it is that, for once in his life, he acted without suspicion or subterfuge and now he looks like a fool. Without realizing it, he’d begun to trust her but apparently the feeling is not mutual. It is only once this thought articulates itself in his mind that he catches himself; he’s embarrassed. She’s injured nothing but his sense of pride—that he always knows when someone is lying to him, that he’s always the man in the room with the most information.

But what, really, is the cost? So what if she outsmarted him? It’s not life or death, this. He wishes she had felt safe enough to be honest with him, but he can hardly blame her that she didn’t. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other and three months is not long enough to change a lifetime of mistrust in others, especially if one is accustomed to it as a means of survival. He still doesn’t know much about her past before they met, but if it was anything like his, he understands why opening up to him might prove difficult.

And maybe some of it was real—the dream she told him about, the reasons she has difficulty sleeping. Maybe she needed the ulterior motive of seducing him to make sure he doesn’t stray as an excuse to tell him the truth. And what does it tell her if he gets angry? How does it look if he holds it against her for being as secretive and wary as he always is himself? How can he ever expect her to trust him with anything if he lets his ego get in the way now? And perhaps more importantly, what does it really cost him to let her be right?

If she did what he thinks she did, it was an act of desperation, to ensure that she had some control over the life she was unceremoniously shoved into three months ago. She was afraid of the idea of him leaving on this trip and forgetting the vows he’d made as soon as she was out of sight. He can see now all the ways that her own ego is tied up in this—not wanting to be seen as an inadequate wife, wanting to prove Jebel wrong after he’d been so crass and unkind to her, and perhaps even worrying that Cassian felt the same way, that he had any complaints of their marriage—but he can also see further, to the core of the matter, where it’s just Jyn being afraid and alone. How can he punish her for that, when all he wants is for her to feel safe with him?

It costs him nothing to let her be right, then; to let her believe that he’s blissfully unaware of any hidden reason for her behavior or any conflict and just play the role of the devoted, smitten husband. It’s not as if he planned to be unfaithful to her while he was away, and giving her some assurance on that matter without revealing what he knows should be easy enough. Let her believe that her machinations paid off and she’s won her husband over with her feminine wiles. There’s no harm in that. When he thinks of it that way, it’s barely even a lie.

“Cassian,” she says now, eyes full of concern at his silently staring at her. “Is everything alright?”

He comes back to the present moment when her hand comes to rest on his arm. “Yes, everything is fine,” he says, weakly. “I apologize. There were probably less dramatic ways to get your attention.”

“No matter. I appreciate the efficiency of your method, I must say.”

“Still, I do not wish to embarrass you.” When he sees she means to shrug at that, he adds, “under any circumstances.”

She blinks at him, surprised, so some of his implied meaning must come through. “You do not embarrass me,” she replies, warily.

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Is that why you called me over?” She asks.

“No, I was—well, I realized I had forgotten to ask you if…well, if there was anything you needed.”

“Me?”

He nods, probably a touch too emphatically. He’s normally better at this, but Jyn has always caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m going to be traveling for the next few weeks and you can get almost anything from the markets in the southern provinces, so if there was anything you needed, I could bring it back for you.”

She stares at him as though he’s spoken in a language she’s never heard before. “I don’t believe I need anything at the present,” she says, finally, after considering her words for a long time.

“It doesn’t have to be something you need,” he says. “Something you want would suffice. Didn’t you lose your gloves recently?”

“No, I found them. I had left them in Senator Mothma’s chambers after she and I returned from a walk.”

“Still, I could get you nicer gloves.”

“It wouldn’t make much difference. I’d still forget them everywhere.”

“I could get you several pairs of gloves.”

“Cassian, what is this about?”

He covers her hand, still lingering on his arm, with his own, chafing her knuckles with his thumb. “Keeping your hands warm,” he says innocently.

She laughs incredulously. “You are not going away for the sole purpose of buying me presents. You will be busy with work. I imagine you will hardly have time to even think of me.”

“No, I’m afraid the real difficulty will be thinking of anything else,” Cassian says, his own pulse thundering behind his ears. It’s not the nerves of telling a lie and fearing getting caught, he realizes, but the panic of finally telling someone the long-guarded truth.

Jyn looks down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth in the gravel. “You don’t need to say such things. I do not require flattery to sustain me.”

“Well, whether you’re flattered or not is incidental. What matters is that it’s true.”

“Is that why you said it?”

“Yes. I know the truth and I have a complicated relationship, sometimes by necessity, but I try to be honest with you, as much as I can be. And I can only hope that I get a little better at it with each try. It’s not much, I know, but—”

“It’s worth more than you think,” she says carefully.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking— you can be honest with me too or I wish we could know each other better —because it feels like asking too much or risking betraying Bodhi’s confidence, so he leaves it at that.

Behind him, one of the lieutenants whistles for everyone’s attention. “Everyone is here and accounted for, Captain,” he adds, to Cassian. “We’re ready when you are.”

Cassian nods to him before looking back at Jyn just at the moment the wind picks up and loosens several strands of her hair from where it’s pulled back. He attempts to brush them back into place, while she watches him with amusement.

“It seems I must be going,” he says.

“So it does,” she replies. She appears to struggle with something, turning it over in her mind for a moment before she leans in and kisses him. His hand is still buried in her hair, trying to keep it from blowing about in the breeze again, and it helps him to keep her close. He’d normally be reticent to have such a display in front of his fellow soldiers—he doesn’t want to give them inspiration for gossip or a reason to tease him mercilessly if he has to spend the next several weeks in their company—but he’ll have to make an exception this time. It feels like a coded message from Jyn, that she trusts him, that he’s done well as her husband, at least in this moment. She’s not one to say so directly, and that’s fine. He’s willing to learn to speak her language, especially if it means kissing her like this more often.

However, common sense prevails eventually and he’s forced to pull back from her before they embarrass themselves in front of all the gathered soldiers. He runs his thumb over her cheek just once, feeling the chill of the morning there more than in his own body. “Goodbye, Jyn,” he says, quietly so only she can hear, and kisses her knuckles lightly for good measure.

“Take care of yourself,” she says, in a rush. Like she’s tried to keep it to herself but couldn’t manage it. “I expect you home in one piece or there will be hell to pay.”

“Of course, my dear,” he says as he steps up into the saddle.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the lieutenant beside Cassian chimes in, looking amused. “We will make sure nothing happens to your husband. You have my word.”

Cassian shakes his head at the young man, who looks even more shamelessly delighted, but Jyn is pleased by this, he can tell.

“Good,” she replies, nodding at him. “You don’t know me very well, sir, but I will tell you this: you would not like to be on my bad side.”

The lieutenant laughs. “No, ma’am, I would not. I’ll lead the party out, if you’d like, sir,” he adds to Cassian.

“Thank you,” Cassian replies. When the group has started to move out from the courtyard, he turns his attention back to Jyn and reaches his hand out to her.

She takes it, and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “My thoughts go with you,” she says.

“And mine stay here with you.”

The answering smile he receives stays with him as he follows the rest of the party out of the courtyard, as he lies on the cold ground of their camp that night, even as the mission turns long and tedious. It lasts until he can replace it in his memory with the smile he gets when he returns home again and sweeps her into his arms once more.

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #au #vaguely medieval fantasy au #my writing #my fic #one day i will title one of the fics in this series with actual graceland lyrics but today is not that day #i've been staring at this fic for three years basically just take it away from me please #anyway here's wonderwall #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since #HBD Zainab you elegant and industrious capybara

23 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 8 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven thought over everything she and Frigga discussed. Her earlier worry that Frigga was blinded by motherly bias was very much confirmed. Loki was by no means a tyrant, he did not seem to have an aggressive bone in him. She knew he would never physically harm her. She also suspected that he would not be the kind to constantly say negative things to her and belittle her publicly but she knew too that behind everything, he would be thinking it, and that was an issue.

Frigga had ensured that until her family arrived, she would not be bothered too greatly. She instead spent time learning different aspects of Aesir court that could only be taught on her coming to Asgard, as it included court records that were kept in Asgard’s archives and could not be taken off the realm. It made for interesting reading, there were so many things she would never have even thought existed. Alfheim’s court was run so differently, it was a large learning curve for her, and she liked it. It gave her something to do while waiting that made her feel like she didn’t have to think of Loki all the time. On occasion, he came up in the court records, but they were in the grand scheme of things, where the royal family went and such so it was interesting but not overly informative. There was one situation that seemed to have arisen when Loki seemed to think it humorous to play tricks on his brother and a few of his friends and had been reprimanded in court for that but overall, he seemed to not be much of the situation. The only things of note from outside of the court that occurred but made it into the annals of it was an ambush in Vanaheim that noted his seidr was one of the reasons they made it to safety and when he was able to prove a young man innocent of a crime he would have faced a long sentence for. She read the articles pertaining to both with interest and noticed that Loki had a keen interest in justice and perceived imbalances of such. It was a trait to commend but again, she found herself wondering how to deal with her future with him. Clearly, he saw having to marry her as an injustice against him.

The knock on the door that stole her from her thoughts startled Raven. She walked over and opened it, not expecting anyone as Frigga had already told her that she was to deal with different matters through the day and would see her that evening and her family was not yet due to arrive. When she opened the door, the large burly figure on the other side caused her to frown slightly. “Your highness.” She bowed.

Thor nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Princess. I am sorry to bother you, but may I speak with you briefly?”

Raven moved to the side and closed the door again once he was inside. “Is everything alright?”

“I was going to ask you that. I noticed that Loki’s old maid had returned and that there was no sign of you anywhere. I was worried my morose brother scared you into hiding in some dark corner of Svartalfheim.” Thor meant it as a joke but the manner in which Raven looked awkwardly to the side caused him to worry. “He has not been overly rude, has he?”

“No more than usual, I suppose. He just…” She toyed with her hands.

“I can assure you, I will not run to Loki with whatever you say to me,” Thor promised.

“I could not stand his manner of speaking of me. He decided to actually attempt to learn something of me and Light Elf customs through my guise as an elven maid but that went about as well as a Jotun going to a sun for a holiday. He would not even use my name, he called me “Her” and “She” and “The Princess”. When I told him that it would be wise to use my name, he was uninterested, so I told him I could not stomach his disrespect any longer and left.” She explained.

Thor stood in silence for a short time thinking over what she had said. “Can I just say, that your official meeting as intended is going to be utter madness?” He chuckled.

“I have been hiding here reading, trying not to think about it.”

“How is that fairing?”

“Very badly. From what I am reading, Prince Loki does not take well to being lied to or deceit.”

“That is true, though the irony is utterly startling as he himself often lies and is deceitful, but I digress.”

“Two wrongs do not make a right.”

“No, that is true, but if you go left twice, you end up going right,” Thor argued.

“I am not entirely sure that has much logic to it but it’s not wrong, I suppose.” Raven laughed slightly. Thor smiled at her as a result. “Thank you, I think that is the first laugh I have had all week that is not at the expense of my current situation.”

“It does seem like it was by the look on your face.” Thor nodded. He sighed at the defeated features of the Elvish Princess. “Princess Raven, I know this is not ideal and I know my brother is immense work but I assure you, for as many faults as I can list him having, he is not a bad being and his recent adversity to the Light Elves is not a lifelong dislike, merely a reaction to the impending situation and I believe it is unfair to thrust this upon you, he is just trying to deal with it and I know he will cease his foolishness upon realising that this is not as bad as he seems to think it to be in his head.”

“How will he react when he realises who I am?” She asked. “I am trying to figure out myself how I think he will but I am not sure.”

“What have you thought would be his reaction?”

“Insulted and embarrassed that his mother and I schemed this. Perhaps angered at you too for not revealing the truth to him. Leading to an angry and scorned prince.”

“I would think that to be a fair assessment.” Thor nodded.

“Yet you seem to actually smile at the thought?”

Thor exhaled loudly. “My brother is very proud.” He explained. “Too proud, far too much so. And this will very much hurt his pride, I know that deeply but that is not a bad thing. Pride is not something one should have in great amounts as it is not a good trait. I too suffered this affliction but through Loki mostly, I have been cured of my pride and see now how harmful it actually is to one’s self. Loki has thought himself too much above others for too long, this will crash that delusion down and yes, if I am honest, I am interested to see how that goes. The worst you will endure is scathing comments, glares and such. I, on the other hand, will be subjected to abuse, both physical and verbal.”

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked, noticing the devious smile on his face.

“Yes, I am. It’s nice being the one not feeling fooled for once.”

“It was not about fooling him, it was about getting to know him before being married to him for the rest of my life,” Raven verified.

“Yes, but you fooled him by doing so,” Thor pointed out.

Raven became silent after that, uncertain of what to say. The closer the time came to reveal the situation, the more she regretted ever coming to Asgard before the wedding.

Loki eyed Thor with interest as he walked up the hallway of the royal wing. When Thor passed him, he noticed something about his brother that was off. “Where have you just come from?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“You smell of lavender and rosemary. Unless you have accidentally fallen into mother’s bathroom supplies, which, going by the fact you are dry, I sincerely doubt, then you were in the presence of someone who uses such perfuming plants and I am curious as to ascertain who that was.”

“That is entirely none of your concern.” Thor dismissed. “Why would you even care? So long as I am not encroaching on you and your business, what is it to you?”

“Now you have caused my curiosity to alter into intrigue.”

“I would have thought you would have been too busy readying for your impending nuptials to care what I am doing, seeing as you are to be wed so soon.” Loki scowled at the thought. “You know, if I were you, I would have some gratitude. Mother spoke to me about my perspective wives, and none come near the beauty of Princess Raven.”

“Ask Mother to give her to you then,” Loki growled before his brow furrowed. “How in the Norns would you know what she looks like?”

“We met her, years ago, in Vanaheim. Her and her brothers. I recall her being pretty then. According to Mother, she looks even more beautiful now. So, while I need to fret about the appearance of the woman I will have to have by my side, you are being gifted a pleasant one of good looks and mind and are complaining. Honestly, Loki, you state that you have it the least favourable of the two of us, yet on this front, you very much are at an advantage. Your wife will be appealing looking but even more importantly than that, she is well-versed in the role required of her as a princess herself and is genuinely a nice person and before you demand to know how I know this, the answer is simple, her brother Richard and I have spoken substantially of late. He is the second oldest of her brothers, he was at the same camp as us in Vanaheim.” Thor stated. He used the fact it was true that he was in correspondence with Richard because of the elf’s thirst for knowledge of the battles through time so that he could learn from them. In Vanaheim, he had spoken to Thor at length with regards to different battles and the Aesir prince promised that he would send books on different historical effects for the elf prince to better himself in his role as general of Alfheim. Never once had the elf asked for his sister, but Loki did not need to know that.

Loki gave a small disinterested sound. He had known of Thor corresponding with Richard, he was slightly startled that the two other princes were discussing Raven but it was not entirely implausible either. “Lucky me.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Sounds like she is perfect for you, you can have her.”

“She is not a fruit bowl, she’s a living being and you need to remember that,” Thor growled. “She comes from a culture where she is not as utilised as she should be but that will not equate to her being vapid and dim.”

“Norns, why is everyone so sure that this princess is so great? Between you and Mother, I am getting so sick of hearing about this. All I need now is Father bothering me about her too.”

“Father has said several times in my presence that this is the alliance we need to secure our ties to the Light Elves. Raven being married to you and the children that will result in such ensure that.”

“Unless one of her four brothers wed elsewhere, of course?”

“Three are marrying Light Elves and one is promised to a Vanir, General Everett’s daughter, Evie, is it? Their alliances are being set in stone via that.” Thor informed him. “He aligned his daughter after it was ensured you and Raven were to be wed. This alliance was integral to everything.”

“Whoopie.”

“Loki, please….just…” Thor sighed, he wanted to tell his brother to be nice to Raven, that she was a genuinely nice person but he knew that when it would be announced that she was actually the being that had been playing his maid and that his mother and the princess had concocted the plan and then, of course, when Loki realised that Thor knew who she was too, there would be a severe issue and he would not be easily calmed. “Try and be reasonable.”

“What were you going to say? Or was your brain not able to keep up with your train of thought?” Loki growled.

Thor sighed, no longer feeling the slight twinge of guilt for his brother at being deceived. “I was going to say, be nice to her when she arrives, but I gathered that was too much to ask.” he simply side-stepped his brother. “I hear they are arriving soon.”

Loki said nothing more to his brother as he left, too busy considering what was to come.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #hiding in plain sight #Chapter 8

36 notes · View notes

bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

Text

And with this, we start wrapping up the USJ arc! I might take a moment to do a few side pieces before I hop back into the narrative. Maybe actually do those character examinations I said I would before this arc? Hmm. Or maybe I should wait on character sheets until we have all the ones for class 1a and the main teachers? Which would be after the sports festival, but…

[No. 21 - In Each of Our Hearts]

We start out with a wide view of the main stairs and the dust-cloud-covered main plaza. All the teachers are at the top of the stairs, a fair bit away from where All Might is. (This will be important in a second.)

Snipe adjusts his hat, a bit surprised at what just happened. Midnight’s also a bit surprised that the villains just fled, especially after such a dramatic invasion. As Vlad King puts Nezu down on the ground, Nezu states that the villains took them completely off guard, but that the concern for the moment was the well-being of the students. Cementoss starts heading down the stairs (I think?), seeming to be focused on doing something else.

We shift over to Toshinori, who’s continuing to deflate as he realizes how bad this is. Shouto realizes that with all the teachers who showed up just now, that means there was no attack on the school itself. Katsuki seems annoyed that he has to agree with Shouto’s observation, while Kirishima is more worried about Izuku, starting to rush over towards him. Izuku looks surprised and perhaps a bit touched by Kirishima’s concern.

Toshinori’s also thinking about how good-hearted Kirishima is - in before he realizes that if the kid runs over, he’ll find out Toshinori’s secret, In before he starts mentally swearing and begging the kid to stay back. He’s about to tell Kirishima to wait, only for good timing to intervene.

...just how fucking fast IS Cementoss? I mean, I can guess that he’s able to manipulate cement under himself in order to speed around if he needs to, but just. You really can’t picture a guy literally made of rock to be able to zoom.

Well, take your pick of headcanon I guess.

Anyways, Cementoss continues to be a bro and cover for Toshinori by telling Kirishima that the other teachers need to make sure all the students are safe, so he should head over to the gate. Meanwhile, he’ll deal with the wounded. (He even looms a little bit, just to add in that touch of intimidation. Incredible.) Kirishima agrees that that makes sense and acknowledges the order.

Toshinori thanks Cementoss for the close save, slumping over where he’s seated. Cementoss offers a frankly too-adorable smile as he presses his fingers together, saying that he’s a big fan of All Might, so they should get him to the nurse’s office without revealing his true form - though he also says Toshinori really has to stop overdoing it. Toshinori rubs at the scrape on his cheek, stating that he’d be dead if he hadn’t overdone it - the villains were just that strong.

We also get a blurb on Cementoss’ quirk!

Okay, this minecraft-block shaped man should not be so cute smiling like this. I don’t know if it’s helped with this shot of him looking like a freaking turtle missing its shell.

But I think the most interesting bit to think about here, even if we don’t see it ‘on-screen’ at all, is that Cementoss has to see that Izuku has seen Toshinori’s true form - but also that he’s not reacting like a student who just learned about the number one hero’s secret weakness. Not to mention Toshinori doesn’t seem at all bothered with this particular kid seeing him in his true form, either.

While I’m sure Cementoss more than capable of being discrete, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t say anything about the minor oddity when reporting it in the staffroom later, or none of the teachers asking after it.

I swear to god I’m gonna start compiling a list of all the moments that others canonically can observe something Odd about the interactions between Toshinori and Izuku.

Anyways. We shift scenes over to somewhere else. Either another part of the city, a different city, whatever. Probably Kamino, all things considered. We then shift into an empty bar, where Kurogiri starts to swirl in, his portal gently depositing Shigaraki on the ground. Where he’ll lie for the entire convo, bleeding out.

Shigaraki groans in pain, complaining to what turns out to be a computer monitor that he was shot, both arms and both legs, and that their attack got crushed. The nomu also got got, the cannon fodder was taken down in a flash… even the kids were strong. He believes All Might is in perfect health, and that sensei was wrong.

Sensei, through the monitor, says he wasn’t. They merely got ahead of themselves.

(Also, I double-checked the anime scene here, and there’s meant to be two people speaking, but the translation here doesn’t make it seem that way. So I’m just chalking it up to wonky translation and not having the benefit of the varying Japanese dialects in order to distinguish, and clarify who is speaking here.)

A second voice (the doctor) speaks up through the monitor feed, stating that they underestimated All Might, so it’s a good thing that League of Villains came cheap. He then enquires after his creation, the nomu, and whether it was retrieved. Kurogiri reports that the nomu was sent flying, and that unless they can ascertain his precise coordinates, no amount of warping would let them find it. He just couldn’t spare the time back there. The doctor laments that after all the trouble they went through to make the nomu as strong as All Might, considering the loss a real shame.

Shigaraki (who is still staying acquainted with the floor) mutters about the use of ‘strong,’ the word sparking a thought. He brings up that there was this one kid who seemed just as fast as All Might. Sensei is quiet for a moment, before carefully prodding for more information. Shigaraki complains about how without ‘that pest,’ they might have killed All Might, riling himself up further while thinking about Izuku.

Sensei consoles Shigaraki, telling him that there’s no sense crying over spilled milk, and that the endeavor wasn’t a complete loss. He urges Shigaraki to find stronger troops, and to take all the time he needs. We (likely referring to Sensei and the doctor) can’t move freely, which is why they need a symbol like Shigaraki. Next time, sensei assures, the world will know of the terror Shigaraki represents.

(Yes, those two words specifically are bolded in the text. I wonder if Horikoshi had already discarded his earlier plans to end the series after a hundred or so chapters and was working on the version that we’re going through now at this point...)

Anyways, this isn’t really halfway through, but the rest of the chapter doesn’t really have one? I mean, I guess it kind of does, but it also has the same awkward 7 / 11 page division either way, and in this case we’ll be able to leave all the stuff with Naomasa for next time.

#readthrough #chapter 21 #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #usj arc #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #cementoss #shigaraki tomura #all for one #kyudai garaki #Kirishima Eijirou #kurogiri #would have done this all in one part #but am tired #will do the rest later #also this is cute cementoss propaganda #i dunno how that happened but y'all get to live with it now

23 notes · View notes

bloodfromthethorn · 3 years ago

Text

Bridal Carry

Hiking trips are more hazardous than Riley remembers them being. At least she has Jack there to make her rescue feel as awkward as humanly possible.

Part two of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge (although this one is much more fluff than whump, oops).

Also on AO3.

“This is undignified.”

“You’re the one who had to go and break your ankle, you can’t blame me for this.”

“It’s not broken. And you could at least pretend like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“Ri, you know I’d do anything for you, but carrying you down a mountain is not really what I’d consider a good time.” Jack let that settle for a moment, then shot her a vaguely wounded look. “And you know I’m never happy to see you hurt.”

Even still blushing faintly in embarrassment, Riley couldn’t help but feel a thrill of guilt trickle down her spine. She knew Jack was likely more unhappy about her ankle than she was – when she’d first fallen he’d gone white with panic until he’d ascertained that she hadn’t actually done herself mortal injury. His worry had been genuine enough that she hadn’t had the heart to play it up in a way she might have done with Mac or Boze.

“I know,” she grumbled quietly, unwilling to entirely let go of her displeasure. There really wasn’t a lot of dignity in being carried back to the car like a baby. “I’m still unhappy about it.”

Jack snorted as he stepped carefully over some stones littered along the path. He didn’t seem burdened by her weight in the slightest; Riley knew she wasn’t exactly heavy, but this seemed a little bit extreme.

“Well I’m not exactly thrilled. What was your plan, scampering up that gravel mountain? Thing looked like danger a mile off.”

“It was hardly a mountain,” she contested, not for the first time. “I just wanted to see if I could see back to the river from there.”

“And could you?”

There was a huffy pause. “I didn’t get the chance to find out.”

“Because the gravel mountain collapsed on you.”

Riley shot him a dirty look that he utterly ignored. He’d become immune to her stink eye approximately twenty minutes into knowing her and it seemed like a decade apart had done nothing to blunt his familiarity.

“I didn’t look where I was putting my feet, that’s all.”

“I saw you looking plenty. You kept looking right up until the ground fell out from under you.”

He sounded vaguely like a parent delivering some sort of life lesson to a wayward toddler and it was doing nothing for Riley’s discomfort. She barely resisted the urge to cross her arms. There was nothing she could do about the huff though.

Jack glanced down at her, taking in the downcast eyes and blushing cheeks, and sighed to himself. “I’m not mad, Ri,” he informed her gently, returning his attention to the uneven track they were following. The last thing they needed was for him to turn his ankle over too. “I just get worried when you get hurt. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Riley’s annoyance immediately faded again at the reminder, and she rolled her eyes to allay Jack’s concern. “I’m not really hurt, Jack,” she reassured. “Can barely even feel it anymore.”

“You can’t feel it because you haven’t had to put weight on it for twenty minutes. I’m not letting you even think about walking until someone in Phoenix med has given you a look over.”

Whatever sympathy Riley might have been feeling vanished in an instant and she shot him a disbelieving look. “No way.”

“Uh, yes way? That thing could be broken for all you know. I’m not about to just drop you off at home with a pack of frozen peas and call it good.”

“That is exactly what you’re going to do,” she shot back firmly. “It’s just a sprain! You are not dragging me into work on a Sunday for something that I won’t even remember tomorrow.”

Jack rolled his eyes, undeterred from his steady trek back the way they’d come. He didn’t even have the courtesy to be out of breath. “You can’t walk on it. That’s not the kind of thing you just ignore.”

“It’s a sprain!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had a portable x-ray machine tucked into your rucksack,” Jack shot back drily, hefting the thing swung over his shoulder to prove his point. “Is that why this thing’s so heavy?”

She firmly ignored the comment about the backpack – he’d been entirely unfazed at the idea of carrying both of their packs and her all the way back down the trail they’d just spent an hour hiking up so he could just suck it up. “I’d know if it was broken,” she said instead. “I would have heard it.”

“Not necessarily,” He said smartly, visibly gearing up for yet another life lesson. “You’ve not had anywhere near as many broken bones as I have – thankfully – so you’ve still got a lot to learn. Rule one is that they don’t always make a sound.”

“I’ve broken my wrist before. I remember what that felt like and this is nothing like that.”

“Rule two,” he continued without slowing down, “Is that all broken bones are different and what you might remember from one doesn’t necessarily apply to another. Rule three-”

“Okay, god, please just stop.” Jack broke off with a wide grin and Riley couldn’t help but roll her eyes fondly in return. “You win okay? I’ll let a doctor check me out. But we’re not going to Phoenix for it. There’s a clinic two blocks down from me that’ll do just fine.”

“You’d really rather sit in a waiting room for three hours with me hovering over your shoulder than just head to the place where you’ll get seen immediately and no one will ask you any questions?”

“It’s not like we were doing anything covert. We were hiking in the woods for god’s sake.”

“Okay, fair point. That still leaves the waiting room.”

Riley bit her lip for a moment, then decided she might as well come clean. “I don’t want a report ending up on Matty’s desk about that time I fell over and twisted my ankle.”

To her surprise, Jack didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look like he was trying not to, although to be fair he was good at hiding things like that. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “What? I’ve been there. I get why you’re worried but honestly, there’s nothing to stress about. Matty hears about all kinds of stuff way worse than this and she never even blinks – ask Mac about that time he broke his wrist in two places coming off a surfboard. That was back in Thornton’s days, but man you should have seen the look on her face! Mac looked like a kid trying to pretend the window broke itself and he had nothing to do with it.”

Riley could definitely picture it. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“So the worst that’s going to happen here is Matty’s going to give you a despairing look, and then we’ll all get on with our day. And besides, going to a different clinic isn’t going to make a lick of difference. You really think Matty’s not going to hear about it anyway? I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t already know and had an ambulance waiting for us back at the car.”

Something very suddenly occurred to her and she looked up at him wild-eyed. “You didn’t call her, did you?”

He snorted. “No way, that’s a conversation for you to have with her. I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, you don’t. But as soon as Matty finds out I was inside a ten-mile radius she’ll blame it all on me and that woman is scary when she’s on the warpath.”

Riley rolled her eyes again, finally starting to feel vaguely settled in her perch of Jack’s arms. It still wasn’t exactly comfortable – there was only so much he could do to minimise the sway of his gait and the summer sunshine was doing nothing to offset their shared heat where they were pressed together – but Jack’s insistence of acting like everything was normal was oddly soothing. He made it seem entirely natural that he should be carrying her when she couldn’t walk herself and it was hard not to copy that same mannerism.

“Okay, fine, if it’ll make you happy, we can go to Phoenix med. It wasn’t your fault though,” She pointed out lightly.

“That usually doesn’t seem to matter. And it’s kind of my fault. It was my idea to come out here.”

“And it was my idea to climb up a stupid gravel pile. You had nothing to do with it.”

Jack hummed discontentedly. “I could have stopped you from trying it. I knew it would end badly.”

“You assume everything will end badly.” She twisted the arm she had wrapped around the back of Jack’s neck to press her palm flat to his shoulder like she could somehow infuse her sincerity that way. “You can’t protect me from everything. Certainly not my own stupidity.”

He paused for a moment to properly look at her, his eyes darting to her traitorous ankle for just a moment before reseeking the honesty in her eyes. Whatever conclusion he came to, his hands on her tightened ever so slightly. “I can try.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling. “I know you will.” There was a pause then, as she fought to battle down a decade of hurt-disguising-itself-as-anger to quietly murmur, “Thank you for that.”

“Always,” was his immediate response. “I wish you didn’t make it so hard for me, but I’ll protect you from anything for as long as I’m able. And longer if I can. That’s my job, remember?”

“I thought your job was protecting Mac.”

“Him too. Truth be told, he’s a thousand times more difficult to watch than you. You’ve at least got some sense when it comes to things like running towards explosions and mixing unidentified chemicals. But you’re part of that too now, Ri. I’m your Overwatch as much as his.”

It was raw and honest and probably everything she’d been waiting to hear since she was thirteen and suddenly without a father again. She had no idea how she was supposed to react. In the end, all she could manage was gripping sharply at the hand tucked under her knees like it was all that was tethering her to reality.

He gripped back just as tightly so perhaps he understood after all.

A long minute passed in silence as Jack carefully wound his way down the path. Even with her weight, the downward slope meant that he was making better time than the pair of them had on the way up. By Riley’s reckoning, they’d be back within another fifteen minutes.

That knowledge in hand, she cast about for another, less sensitive subject, and almost immediately hit upon something sure to get Jack talking normally again. She grinned at him. “So if this is what an Overwatch does for someone with a twisted ankle, does that mean you’ve carried Mac around like a damsel in distress?”

Jack’s laugh was bright, entirely free of the seriousness of their previous exchange. “Once,” he managed after his initial laugh had died down. His face was still broken open in a broad grin. “That kid is far too heavy for it though. He might look like he’s wasting away but he’s tricky like that – nearly put my back out last time I tried something that wasn’t a fireman’s carry. Ingrate couldn’t stop laughing at me for three days.”

He didn’t put much effort into trying to sound offended, too busy smiling fondly.

Riley smiled right back. “Well, a man of your age, you do need to watch out for things like that.”

“A man of my-” He shook his head in faux disbelief, the smile not budging. “Sure,” he said in the face of her laughter, “Mock the person trying to get you out of here in one piece. Maybe I’ll just put you down on that rock over there and head home myself. Leave you behind to look after yourself.”

“You could,” she agreed amiably, still grinning brightly. “You won’t though.”

Jack shot her a dry look, but his eyes were shining in the sunlight and Riley felt warm all the way down to her bones. Her ankle barely even twinged.

“Yeah, you’re right. I won’t.”

#MacGyver #jack dalton #riley davis #hurt riley davis #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #whump of july 2021

16 notes · View notes

josefavomjaaga · 4 years ago

Text

Helfert, Joachim Murat, Chapter 2, part 2

However, the British Congress Legation also used language very unfavourable to the King of Naples. When in the last days of September the Duke of Campochiaro appeared before Castlereagh to explain to him that "his monarch was prepared to let his troops clear all land beyond the borders of his kingdom, even the Marches promised to him by Austria, but that he would defend Naples itself to the last drop of blood, that he had at his command an armed force of 80,000 men, not counting the militia", the Lord replied evasively: "if King Joachim had intervened in earnest during the last war, his cause would have been different; but his dithering and vacillation had put all claims in suspense, and left open a question now to be decided solely from the standpoint of high policy; besides, he could only advise the King to keep as quiet as possible in the meantime, especially not to take any action against Sicily; any hostility on that side would be regarded by England as a case of war, and she would use all her strength against it" [Footnote 1]. The Duke of Wellington, then accredited to the court of Louis XVIII, and entirely drawn into its interests, most eagerly calculated where the troops could be obtained for a crusade against Naples: 10,000 Sicilians 10,000 Spaniards 12,000 Portuguese 15 to 20,000 from the British garrisons in the Mediterranean, "with such a force the enterprise might be ventured" [Footnote 2]. A pamphlet that appeared in London at this time defending Murat's claims seems to have made little impression in congressional circles.

One of the most ardent advocates in favour of the plan to expel the King of Naples was the representative of Great Britain in Palermo, who also received secret instructions from Castlereagh in the autumn of 1814, no doubt in accordance with Wellington's designs, to make enquiries about Murat's forces and about the mood prevailing in Naples on behalf of the Bourbons. A'Court's despatches spoke only of the "usurper" who should no longer be left on the throne, even though the envoy could not conceal the fact that "it would not be easy to give the matter a turn such that the dignity and faithfulness of the British Cabinet would not suffer shipwreck". Incidentally, it was thought in Palermo that nothing could be risked by an enterprise against Murat; every day, Ferdinand's ministers claimed, they received reports from the mainland saying that the impatience to see the ancestral king in possession of the country again could hardly be restrained. A'Court was furious when he heard that the British Consul Fagan, sent to Naples by Lord Bentinck, had assumed the position of Consul-General there, had gained admittance to the court, exchanged notes with the Minister Gallo, expressing a lively desire to strengthen the good understanding between the government of England and His Majesty's Majesty in Naples, and so on. He denounced him to Lord Castlereagh and at the same time recalled him to his former post in Palermo.

Already in the summer Castlereagh must already have uttered observations like the one mentioned earlier against King Joachim's representatives, which prompted the latter to draw up a memorandum on his attitude in the last campaign and to send it to the British First Secretary of State. This did little to improve his case. For Castlereagh obtained Nugent's and Bentinck's comments on the document, and each of them expressed himself more unfavourably about Murat than the other. "Once the allies had entered into certain obligations," the imperial general said, "they were obliged to fulfil them; but they were also relieved of all further considerations against Murat if he, for his part, had not observed them". Nugent now went through the Neapolitan account of the campaign of last spring point by point and everywhere came to the conclusion that King Joachim, by his strategic intervention, had not benefited but only harmed the allies in Upper Italy: "If the Neapolitan army had not moved, two Austrian battalions and a few squadrons would have sufficed to sweep the country clean, and if Murat, as he is pleased to claim, has conquered the country as far as the Po with his troops, this has been done at our expense, not that of our enemy".

Lord William considered the political rather than the military side, but came to similar conclusions as did the Austrian count. "Murat's policy," was Bentinck's brief opinion, "was calculated to save his crown, and so he always followed whoever seemed to emerge victorious from the struggle. At his court, as in his army, there were two parties at feud with each other and fighting for influence with him, a French and a Neapolitan one; he himself always remained a Frenchman at heart; he was of no use to the allies as a friend and, if fortune had turned his back on us, would have hastened our downfall as an enemy. Between the French and Neapolitan armies throughout the campaign there was obvious understanding; no hostile act was undertaken by either side against the other. A large part of the Neapolitan officers were burning with desire to compete with the French, but the King carefully avoided this. In the affair at Parma, March 6 to 8, the corps of General Nugent was, so to speak, sacrificed by Murat, and it has been said that a number of Neapolitan generals, because of the stain which this has placed on their militaristic character, have signed a letter to Murat" [Footnote 3].

To tell the truth, Murat's more than lax conduct of war in the last campaign was by no means the reason why people were speaking out against him more and more decidedly: it only offered a welcome excuse to be now able to turn away from him with decency, after he had been approached so often in the past. Even if, following the advice of his wise wife, he had been zealous in the interests of the Allies, he would not have been able to maintain the position he actually occupied. It must also be admitted that the "victrix causa", the cause which, after a quarter of a century of humiliations, defeats and losses of all kinds, was finally helped to victory, could have resulted in nothing else than Murat's removal from the throne, which he, too, owed only to the defeats and losses of his opponents at the time. Louis XVIII had hit the nail on the head when he exclaimed: "How can one tolerate a small usurpation after having put an end to a great one?

---

Footnote 1) Castlereagh to A’Court, Vienna October 2, 1814 X (III 2) p. 145 f.

Footnote 2) Wellington to Castlereagh September 12 and to Liverpool, December 25 1814, ibit, p.114 f., 226 — 228. „I concur very much in opinion with the King“, he writes to the First Lord of the Treasury, „that the chances of disturbance, particularly in this country, are very much increased by leaving Murat on the throne of Naples. If he were gone, Bonaparte in Elba would not be an object of great dread“. However, he asked the Minister of Foreign Affairs to not reveal anything about the entire plan for the time being: "The King is anxious that nothing should be said upon the subject at Vienna, until I shall receive an answer from England". In fact, the reply did not actually take the form the bellicose Duke had hoped for. Lord Liverpool agreed with Wellington completely on the main point; only, he said (Bath, 1 January 1815), it was necessary to wait for the time: "The only point which I wish to impress upon you is the absolute impossibility, in the present state of the circumstances and feelings in this country, of our engaging in military operations for the purpose of expelling Murat". Incidentally, in the unfavourable sentiment against Joachim, as in any question of British policy, there were also very material motives at play: "Si cette péninsule retombe dans les mains de la famille Buonaparte, le commerce anglais va à être gêné de nouveau dans cette péninsule, et certainement elle y tombera si de mesures rigoureuses et l'expulsion de Murat de l'Italie ne préviennent ce malheur"; Le Chevalier T. (Tinseau?) to Castlereagh 29 Nov. 1814; ibit p. 211, 243 f.

Footnote 3) Schöll, Recueil VI S. 364—394: Mémoire historique sur la conduite politique et militaire de S. M. le Roi de Naples etc.; S. 395—419 : Observations par le général comte Nugent etc.; S. 435—450: Dépêche de Lord William Bentinck au vicomte Castlereagh en date de Florence le 7 janvier 1815. The first two pieces are undated, but fall into the year 1814, and the memorandum into midsummer, since Castlereagh sent it to Count Bathurst on 6 September.

----

Just to add to this: Colonel Maceroni in his memoirs, as we have seen, had accused Eugène of having informed Austrian commander Bellegarde about the secret negotiations with Murat. This was obviously unnecessary, as Mier’s letters prove the Austrians to be very aware of what was going on anyway. But talked about it he surely had, as even in Paris the British had already taken note:

Lord Castlereagh to Lord Bathurst. Paris, May 3, 1814.

My Lord, I have delayed transmitting the enclosed correspondence for a few days, in the hope that I might be enabled to ascertain whether the Viceroy's assertions of Murat's treachery were supported by any documents on which the Allies could justify a change of policy towards him ; but none have as yet been received : I shall, however, take steps to ascertain the fact. The Austrian Government have no other reluctance on this point than what good faith imposes. As soon as I can learn anything further on this subject, your lordship shall hear from me.

I have, &c.,

CASTLEREAGH.

PS. Since this despatch was closed, I have received despatches from Sir R. Wilson, which throw further light upon Murat's conduct.

(taken from: »Memoirs and Correspondence of Viscount Castlereagh«, Volume X)

During that time, Eugène was still on his way to Munich; so he must have opened up quite a bit to Bellegarde before, when handing over Upper Italy to him. One can assume both commanders agreed heartily in their dislike for poor Murat.

(On a side note: As for the opinion of General Nugent cited above, I’ve recently come across an account of the battle of Raab which this gentleman apparently managed to loose singlehandedly. Not sure I’d put too much faith in his view of military matters.)

#joachim murat #congress of vienna #castlereagh #eugene de beauharnais #italy1814 #helfert murat #bentinck #nugent

16 notes · View notes

incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

Note

Hello yes, could you elaborate on the Comte wedding event pleease. Crying and fangirling and dying are all acceptable. I missed it and I adore your rambles about Comte? Thank you either way.

!!! I’d be delighted to!! And awww, I’m so glad :D I love to write about him in any capacity, it makes me so happy to know people enjoy it when I do! Tysm for the full license to cry/fangirl/die because lbr it ain’t a Comte event if all three of those things don’t happen .Please don’t worry, I don’t mind talking abt it anyway! 💕💕💕

Okay my fellow Comte stans, you know the drill! I’ll be placing the details of the Wedding Story Event (jpn version) below the cut! Please don’t read if you want to wait for the official translation, and I hope you enjoy if you do take a peak! c:

AIGHT Y’ALL in fair Verona where we lay our scene-- This event begins on a lovely summer day with Comte and MC at a boutique picking out a wedding dress for their upcoming ceremony. As usual, she provides a bit of background as to how we got here. Comte doesn’t have a proposal event (as far as I know) like the other suitors because he actually proposes marriage in his MS. I won’t go too far into details just in case, but they essentially swear their love to each other in a church at night--just the two of them. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think this event takes place on the anniversary of the vow that they shared, what Comte called becoming “a vampire’s bride.” Yes it’s as hot as it sounds AND I LOVED IT). Now, despite their private promise to each other, Comte does specify that he fully intends to have a public wedding whenever she feels comfortable doing that. As such, this event is picking up from there.

With all the nitty gritty settled, it’s time to get to the fun bits. So Comte is weaving in and out of the dresses, trying to find the perfect one for his beloved. MC is equal parts exasperated but amused, and she notes that it reminds her so much of when she first debuted in high society (reference to the beginning of Comte’s MS). Back then, when she agreed to debut, he told her that he would immediately send word to his tailor to make the necessary preparations. It’s a kind of nostalgic moment; she remembers how thorough and excited he was (”I’ll be sure to show off your every charm”), and he’s effusing that energy in the boutique too. Eventually he settles on two of them and requests that they both be prepared, and MC sputters. She’s like Comte???? W H Y we only need one dress???? And he insists that, since it’s a special occasion, there’s no harm in it is there? He also goes on to say that it is in line with her culture’s tradition of “dyeing the bride in the husband’s colors.” MC shoots back that the tradition doesn’t entail several wedding dresses for the bride, but he pays the correction no mind. Y’all. I loved this part because it just emphasizes how much of a LIL SHIT he can be. Like he’s 100% harmless but I was like BOI IF U DON’T--I WILL KISS UR CUTE FACE. YOU STOP THAT.

I find it interesting especially because it remains in line with a trend about Comte that is so arresting for me, something that I find so endearing about him. I’ll note other places in the event I find it, but in this moment he is revealing something critical: for all of his capacity to play with the language and expectations that other people have/use, he only ever uses it for good. Here he’s purely being playful (with a stark note of respect and awareness); he has no intention of overwhelming her or undermining her cultural expectations of what a wedding means. Especially because MC, even in her monologue, isn’t truly upset--she honestly seems to find it adorable and funny more than anything. It’s also clear that Comte is working within her comfort zones. While he would buy the entire damn boutique if she let him, he settles on two because he knows it would stress her out otherwise (MC tends to be p pragmatic, not really about extravagance she is a mood).

And so they make their selection and exit the boutique, and they’re walking arm in arm back to the carriage. Comte laments narrowing it down to only two, but he’s happy they found something nice. MC thanks him for bringing her along, but he says it’s only natural--he wanted to pick out the dress the world would see together, he would never be happy with it otherwise. MC melts (WHO WOULDN’T) and says she’s really looking forward to wearing them, and he’s shook AF.

(OKAY BUT I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS. DOES HE UNDERSTAND HOW TOUCHED I AM. DOES HE KNOW. His route hammers home this idea that for Comte, being with someone absolutely means being on the same page. It means being there for each other yes--but it also means making sure the other person feels wanted and included. He could have so easily just picked his favorite and been like “yeah this is what we’re going with.” But not only does he not do that, he refuses the very idea of a ceremony without it. He wants this to mean something for both of them, and he’s more than willing to put in the time and effort to ascertain that. I’M FUCKING TENDER OKAY. HE CARES SO MUCH AND I SOB)

He asks her if there’s anything else that she really, really wants for their wedding, and she thinks it through. It’ll be a reasonably sized wedding, with the men of the mansion in attendance and most of their closer high society friends. They’ve picked out a dress, the venue is set, the people closest to her will be there...she really can’t think of anything else? So she asks him if he has anything he really wants to do for the wedding, and he replies in the negative too, saying that “My only ideal wedding can be one in which I can see you at your most happy." ARE YOU KIDDING ME--Before MC can recover from that, he goes on: "Even now, I'm enjoying the preparations, and I want to do whatever I can for you." MC feels like she can never win against his sweet affection, so she nearly kills him with her answering line: "It’s more than enough. More than anything, being able to swear our love together again--to renew our vow--is the best part of it all." Comte is visibly shocked and is quiet for moment (MAN DOWN!!!!!!!!! VAMPIRE DOWN GET THE DEFIBRILATORS!!!!! LEONARDO PUT THAT LIGHTNING ROD AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD--) before he just replies with a “Is that so :>>>” And translating this nearly killed me [At the sight of his gentle smile, I smile back.] IM GOING TO SCREAM THEY ARE JUST SO TENDER IM SOFTE????????????

As they’re walking, Comte asks MC to tell him about weddings in her time. What were they like? He wants a reference point. She goes on to describe how ceremonies really range from formal to more informal affairs, and gets to a little custom that’s apparently held in Japan. When a groom intends to marry a bride, he will go to the bride’s family to ask for their approval. Comte visibly seems concerned about it, and I’m pretty sure he feels bad denying her that experience; not only did he propose to her without knowing any of that, her family isn’t within range to be able to honor it properly now. Even so, he keeps listening and comments now and again with a great deal of interest, paying close attention. He asks, what happens if the groom is rejected by the family? MC goes on to say that it’s a kind of test of perseverance: the groom is expected to ask/prove himself until he gets an answer in the affirmative. Internally, she notes that such a thing rarely ever happens irl--it’s mostly dramatized in movies and TV shows. She used to dream of how thrilling it might be to have someone do that for her, but it was mostly just a silly little fancy, nothing she was obsessed over. Comte, being a literal fucking legend, senses this emotional shift in milliseconds, and starts musing about something. When she tries to ask what’s up, he’s like not to worry leave everything to me.

PLEASE CUE THE CIRCUS MUSIC. BECAUSE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO TURN INTO A CLOWN FEST.

So it cuts to them back home and Comte is asking Sebastian to give MC’s hand in marriage. Sebastian is utterly bEWILDERED and is like “I mean I understand I’m probably the closest relative she has right now but also WHAT!? YOU’RE MY BOSS/LORD I’M YOUR BUTLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. Comte 100% is undaunted by this very normal reaction and insists that class/status has no place in matters like this, and Sebastian and MC are desperately trying to stop him from bowing his head/kneeling. MC notes she never expected him to take it to heart, tells him "Comte, you really don't have to go that far, it's a custom not a duty--" (IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY????? YOU CAN FEEL THEIR MOUNTING CONCERN AND I CAN’T BELIEVE COMTE WAS STRAIGHT UP JUST “i am not above begging” AND THEY’RE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE YOU SHOULD BE ABOVE BEGGING)

The circus only escalates when Leo comes in LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF "damn...bahahahhahahaaaaa now THIS oughtta be good/interesting." MC (and I simultaneously) start yelling at him and he replies "What? Comte's already ready and willing, why stop him?" For whatever reason, this gives Comte an idea (NEVER A GOOD SIGN) and he’s like you know what? That’s actually perfect, get everybody in here I’m gonna ask them for permission too :D

Several things I want to say about this. 1. COMTE LITERALLY DOES NOT EVEN REACT TO LEO’S MOCKING HE JUST “omg ur face was useful for smth for once this gives me an idea” 2. META TIME. First and foremost, I seriously can’t deal. This man knows MC has nothing because of her traveling through time, no friends or family--he’s always so, so aware of what she’s sacrificing to be with him. It is never outside of his thinking. Not only does this decision solidify her presence as a member of their family (I’m just so UGLY SOBBING about the fact that he does not consider them all ANYTHING LESS--THEY ARE HIS CHIRREN AND HE LOVES THEM AND I’M SOFT) this is also such a brilliant, strategic move on his part. Not only is he doing this to fulfill her younger wishes of having someone be so confident in their love for her that they would insist on it in front of her family/loved ones--his doing this also solidifies her presence as his wife within the mansion from here on. There can be no mistake; this is an unquestionable statement as to how her identity has shifted in meaning, a powerful allusion to his possessive streak. (and WE LOVE THAT FOR US HELL YEAH)

Furthermore, I continue to be fascinated by the way he keeps subverting traditional or expected forms of supplication. While many could see this as a yielding of his pride (and in some ways he undeniably is) this choice to acknowledge her culture’s customs yields much more valuable dividends for him. 1. MC--notorious for never betraying the things she wants, having trouble asking for anything--is have her dreams fulfilled even if they were just silly little fantasies from when she was young. He’s actively making her happy, and he gets to openly gush about how much he loves her (FOR HIM THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF A WIN-WIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND--) 2. This is a way for him to make amends and do proper respect to the marriage customs of her place/time, and that’s infinitely important to him. He’s trying to set a precedent; that even if he ever does make a mistake or neglect something (even if accidental) he will do his utmost to make it right, pride and money be DAMNED.

While it can be argued that he’s just being silly and over-the-top, when you look closely this is 100% a clever, very mindful approach to their future. While it may partially have been executed on an emotional/excited whim, he is also claiming MC as his own in the most clear and respectful way possible. And tbh that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

So, after Leo walks in on them everyone else starts filing in one at a time (OKAY YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME THAT THEY WEREN’T ALL HUDDLED UP TO THE DOOR SQUIRMING TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON AND AT SOME POINT LEO SAID “omfg i gotta see this dumbass bitch on his knees” AND BLEW THEIR COVER/MADE THEM EVEN MORE CURIOUS):

Jeanne: "It's so noisy in here."

Mozart: "What's going on?"

Comte: "Ah, excellent timing. I want to get permission from everyone."

Vincent: "?????? Did you do something wrong Comte?? What could you possibly need forgiveness for?"

Isaac: "A mistake made/wrongdoing by Comte?...Why am I dreading what it could be..."

Dazai: “Ah yes, yes I see, you are asking for a young lady's hand in marriage” (IM WHEEZING BC EVERYONE ELSE IS SO LOST AND HE'S JUST 100% ON THE BALL KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON THE NARRATIVE DISSONANCE IM CRYING)

Theo: Young lady??? The hell are you going on about

So things are getting increasingly chaotic and MC is just [jfc this is getting out of hand, Comte they don’t even know what you’re asking them to do]. She tries to explain but falters, and Comte puts an arm around her--signals that he’ll give them the context. So he tells them "You all know that our wedding day is approaching. As such, I'm asking you all for your approval in taking MC as my bride. No matter what happens, I promise to make her happy forever--for every moment, every second of our time together. Please, forgive my taking her" (WHEN I TELL YOU MY HEAD WAS IN MY HANDS IDK HOW MC DIDN’T DIE ON THE SPOT S I R. SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) MC: [...Comte...My heart melts at his confession, at his earnest plea. It feels like every single iota of our feelings are infused in every word he speaks, teeming with the love shared between us in overwhelming measure.]

For a little while silence falls until Napoleon speaks up, and honestly? It was so sweet ;-; I tear up every single time: “Forgiven. You know how much I dislike formalities anyway. And besides, who could say no to le Comte?” MC notes that everyone murmurs in agreement and a kind of warmth settles in the room. Arthur notes that MC will be a Comtesse very soon and MC just. I’m going to be a WHAT now (”C-c-comtesse??”). And it’s so FUCKING FUNNY YOU CAN FEEL THE RED EYE EDIT MEME ON COMTE WHEN HE GOES “Oh? Is there anything wrong with that? Everybody said yes, after all :>” MC internally accuses them of ganging up on her, but reveals that more than anything she’s a little overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the best way:

MC: [Overwhelmed with feeling; touched, a little shy, embarrassed, but also full of joy--my eyes burn at the edges with tears] “I'm glad everyone approves c:”

Comte: Agreed :> your country/homeland has a nice custom. A v important step to inviting my loved one into my life as my wife :>>>>

So it then cuts to them in Comte’s room after the circus and MC thanks him for the sweet confession in front of everyone, tells him how happy it made her. He insists that it was only natural he would, and that it isn’t even enough.

Comte: “I am the one...your life, your time as a human being; I'll be taking all of it from you.”

MC: [...Comte? He took my hand with a very serious expression]

Comte: "As I said before, I will make you a vampire someday."

MC: “Don't call it that--a price. I want to live with you too!”

MC notes that while she hasn’t made the leap yet, she knows she’ll be ready for it soon enough.

Comte: “Thank you. But the last thing I want is to take things from you, I want to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you smile. Whether that means weddings, requests--anything in my power.”

COMTE REALLY SAID "she is entrusting me with her future and that means I have the responsibility of not only ascertaining her happiness, but proving my unwavering devotion to it" AND IM HOLLERING????? LADIES GET YOU A FUCKING MANS. MC finally begins to understand this, and she’s like OMFG is that why you went off so hard this afternoon???? And Comte’s like :>>>> guilty as charged, though I think I'm also just still excited about the wedding too, haha! They hug it out (YESSSSSSS LET ME H O L D) and MC asks him again if there’s anything he wants for the wedding too. Aight y’all I would be irresponsible if I didn’t warn you beforehand, get fucking tissues. I’m still upset abt his answer and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He thinks about it for a bit, before kissing her forehead and saying “I suppose, can you pray for my happiness too? That's enough."

AIGHT IMMA GO BACK TO THE EVENT IN A SECOND BUT I GOTTA SAY. BITCH. BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? COMTE THAT ISN’T OPTIONAL THAT’S A GOD DAMN PREREQUISITE?????????????????? OFC WE WISH FOR YOUR HAPPINESS WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? THE A U D A C I T Y. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE INSULTED IN ALL MY LIFE. OKAY RANT OVER.

MC is surprised but naturally agrees to it, having wanted that for him even without prompting. She continues to think on it, insisting that she wants to do something for him too. An idea sparks but it only says that she made preparations without telling him anything for now, preparing a tangible sign of her love for the wedding.

The premium end begin here. She’s getting dressed for the wedding, and she’s--as usual--in awe of his perfect selection of accessories/jewelry to go with the gown. She’s about to put on her shoes when she notices something odd, and there’s a knock at the door. Comte enters to ask if she’s ready, and they both freeze and stare at each other. They both sheepishly admit to being completely taken with the sight of the other, and they laugh about it together. Comte tries to ask if she’s ready again, and she assures him that she is--just that she found something unexpected in her shoes.

He explains that the coin is an English six pence. Sebastian told him that they are no longer made in her time, and Comte explains he acquired it about three hundred years ago in England when he was living there (he says that he kept it back then because he liked the design on it). He explains that there is a tradition, that the English would put a six pence in a bride’s left shoe in the hopes of wishing her good fortune and prosperity in her oncoming union. MC has her understandable and customary (JESUS I FORGET HOW OLD THIS MAN IS SOMETIMES) and he places a hand over hers that’s holding the coin when she starts staring at it.

Comte: "Hey, MC....Time goes by, and various things will continue to change. Among them, it is only vampires who survive without dying or changing."

MC: "Comte..."

Comte: "I used to think that made it--made us--empty. But...I don't think that's the case anymore. I'm proud of being able to keep this undying, unchanging love for you."

[He put the coin back in my left shoe, and offered them to me--gentle as though they were made of glass(Cinderella's)]

MC spends this exchange on the verge of tears, but keeps it together for the wedding. It depicts their loved ones all around them as they walk down the aisle, and skips to the end of the ceremony. The priest tells Comte he may now kiss the bride (WHEN I WAS TRANSLATING IT SAID “KISS YOUR BUSINESS” AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WHEEZED), but just as he’s about to lift her veil--she stops him in his tracks. He’s confused, and says her name, but she reassures him that she just wants to offer him a wedding gift before he lifts it. Hidden in her bouquet are two pins that she had made, and she pins them to his jacket. They were made from preserved flowers, encased in metal to render them undying/everlasting.

MC: [Me too...I want to wish for your happiness...]

MC: “For you, things might feel fleeting--like they just pass you by, are lost before you can grasp them. But even so, my feelings won't change; just like this preserved/undying flower and the life of a vampire--dedicated to [Comte's real name] in everlasting love."

COMTE.EXE HAS CURRENTLY SHUTDOWN. REBOOTING.

MC notes that his eyes get misty and he leans his forehead against hers.

MC: [Comte's real name]?

Comte: .................I want to hug you as tight as I possibly can, but I'd hate to ruin the flowers/your gift to me

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. WHEN I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. I CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT HER GIFT IS NOT ONLY CANON BUT ITS LITERALLY ON HIS WEDDING SPRITE, HER LOVE IS A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION ON HIS PERSON ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2. THE FACT THAT SHE ONLY ADMITS TO BEING THE HAPPIEST SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE SEES HIM SO HAPPY TOO. THIS IS SO MUCH. SO M U C H

And so Comte lifts her veil and kisses her gently uwu cover ur eyes chirren, the hall erupts in raucous applause and the crowd starts congratulating them!! Comte then encourages everyone to have fun, and the reception takes on the vibe of a kind of social gathering. MC notes that he seems to prefer this level of interaction, just relaxed and everyone chill, and she turns to tell him that it seems like it’ll be fun! Before she can finish her sentence, he kisses her fiercely before leaning back with a sigh, "It's still not enough, but I'll save the rest for later tonight." BITCH!!?!?!??!??!? HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE FOCUS ON A STUPID PARTY WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, HELLO???????MC notes: [Everyone from the mansion that saw the kiss made fun of me endlessly, and I hid my face in my bouquet] SAVE HER. Once again, it skips to the end of the reception and they’re now in Comte’s room. (I will blink twice if I think you need tissues BLINKS TWICE)

Comte: "Yup, perfect." [He places the flower pins I gave him next to THE hourglass in the room, looking pleased HNGNNGNGNNGGNGN MY EYE HOLES ARE SUFFERING

MC: "I'm glad you liked the gift c:"

Comte: "It is proof of your unchanging love, of course I cherish it :>"

She’s just so happy to see him so delighted with it. He asks how she liked the ceremony, and she gushes about how much she loved it. He hugs her (AWWWWWWWWWWWW) and then he notes that while it was fun to celebrate, all he wants now is time with his wife (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA). He starts kissing her like the world is ending, and she says she needs to get changed--but he doesn’t care, says she’s fine as she is and that he wants her right now.

Aight usually I don’t get into epilogue territory, but honestly, this shit was JUST too good. Now this man made of magic asks MC if she’s wearing her bridal garter (you know, the one that usually comes with the whole bride ensemble in Western tradition). And she’s like ???? Uh, yeah, of course? Why... He says that he saw something interesting at a friend’s wedding reception once upon a time, and explains that the garter is usually removed and thrown to the bachelors (analogous to the bride’s throwing her bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married). PLEASE NOTE HE IS KISSING HER FOR LIKE 90% OF THIS IT’S AMAZING

MC: "So it's like the bouquet toss?"

Comte: "Yes. Now then, how did he remove the garter...?”

HE DUCKS DOWN AND SHE’S LIKE COMTE!?!?

Comte: “...Ah yes, the groom removes it with his teeth >:D”

And so this man HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE tugging it down slowly under her dress, caressing her legs and loving every part of her. MC’s face is on fire, and she’s torn between being turned on and embarrassed. Eventually he reappears after teasing her MERCILESSLY and admits that he didn’t do it at the reception because he didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction. Blushing, shy, desirous--all of these feelings are his to keep and enjoy. (I!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!!!! HOW SUBTLY POSSESSIVE HE IS AAAAAAAAAA) MC notes internally that she feels the same way about him, how he only shows this intensely passionate side to her. Comte is uncharacteristically impatient and frenzied that night, and they both go at it.

It skips to midnight where the two are cuddling in the aftermath, just being cute and happy. Comte, the absolute MADLAD is already thinking about how to celebrate next year--and she just giggles at him (he’s a wackadoo but he’s her wackadoo LMFAO MOOD) and he laughs with her. They essentially swear to promise their love over and over in the future, and it just ends on that wholesome note :>>>

Also can I just. The fact that he lived for so long alone, but was always, always paying attention to all of these little things that are done with a person’s loved one ;-; that he would remember his friend doing that at his wedding and be like BROOOOO I WANNA DO THAT IF I EVER GET MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!! I just. It’s so heartbreaking and touching at the same time, I just want to hold him forever ;-; the fact that he doesn’t seem to worry as much about his own happiness, seems absolutely floored that MC would do anything in return. I JUST LOVE HIM WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME

THIS IS WHAT PEAK PERFORMANCE LOOKS LIKE

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp wedding event #NOW I CAN REST IN PIECES O-<--<#today on: reasons why i would die for comte no.347 #will i ever stop? no #do i have a problem? probably #but i have a tumblr account and the ability to write and i am making that everyone else's problem fdkjlhgfdjkh #but i hope you enjoyed my rambles!!!#you're always welcome here friend! :D #tho yall story time #when he asked abt the garter i started SCREECHING bc i knew EXACTLY where it was going #in middle school i saw a guy do it once at a wedding but i didnt know what the sex^TM was so i didnt think anything of it #i was like haha weird wedding tradition go brrrr why is everyone whistling #and when i was reading i just immediately was sent back and i was like OMFG HE'S GONNA DO IT ISN'T HE THE WILD MAN #but honestly i cant get over how romantic comte is #he has no necessity to enact all these little rituals--i dont really know if he even believes in any kind of religion at all #(i dont think he does honestly but he never speaks to it directly)#but the thought of sharing that with her #of doing those things to make her happy and express his feelings #it makes me so very softe #i dont even believe in all of those wonderful things and yet he makes me want to humor that kind of belief #also idk why the cuts arent working properly on the tumbles i apologize in advance im trying to figure out why

176 notes · View notes

a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years ago

Text

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 14/14

“FORD!”

The scientist in question snatched his hand back, just before the carnivorous plant he had been studying snapped at him with a second slime-coated mouth. A second mouth! It was located under the bulbous head’s primary maw, smaller but sharing the larger one’s distinctive jutting spines that seemed to function like teeth – hooked back to prevent prey from getting away. The infant plant was only as long as his forearm but when it was fully-grown the secondary mouth could easily be large enough to pick up small mammals from the forest floor, maybe even large raccoons or the occasional gnome.

Hmm. They might make for good pest control. Ford studied where the plant’s stem met the forest floor, trying to ascertain how deep the roots ran. If he could get his hands on a pair of good, sturdy gloves for protection he might be able to replant it in a pot and take it back to his lab for further testing. That would certainly be easier than trying to run tests on the fully-grown specimens dotting the forest. How old was this one, anyway? Ford pulled out his tape measure to record its size.

Stan slapped his hand away when it neared the hissing plant. “Don’t touch it! Didn’t you just say this thing was poisonous?”

“Venomous, not poisonous.” Ford corrected.

“You know what I mean.”

Ford waved away his brother’s concerns. “Don’t worry, it’s only a juvenile. Its venom hasn’t developed enough to do any damage. The worst it’ll do is itch.”

“I still wouldn’t be touching it if I were you.” Stan said doubtfully, hunkering down next to Ford to get a good look at the creature. The plant hissed and spat at them and generally made a nuisance of itself.

Ford smirked. “Look Stanley, it’s just as friendly as you are.”

“Hey!” Stan brandished a finger in Ford’s face. “I’m a friendly guy! Just not to weird-ass plants that try to bite my brother’s hand off.”

“It’s not like you didn’t try to bite my hand off when I reached for the ice cream yesterday.”

“Fuck you Ford, I called dibs and you know it.”

Ford rolled his eyes, reaching for the spade in his pack. He’d missed the easy banter between them. It had been missing during the whole Rebus fiasco, obviously; there was only so much sarcasm a wolf could convey through its eyes alone, and only so much a scientist could babble to his canine friend without it being… just sad. Even once the brothers had reconciled, Stan’s mind restored, Ford had worried that after nearly ten years apart the differences between them were far to great to bridge.

But in seemingly no time, Ford had fallen back quickly into the habit of trading quips and joking insults, laughs and rolled eyes and body language that sometimes spoke more than words. It felt far more natural than the forced conversations he’d attempted to make during his time in college. Ford had forgotten the comfort of having his brother nearby.

Of course, an adjustment period was necessary – perhaps made longer by the added factor of Stan readjusting to having a human shape. It was rather concerning, the number of times the man would forget to cook his food and instead tear into it raw and bloody. The first time that had happened Ford had been in the kitchen as well, and he’d stared with popping eyes as Stan nonchalantly sank his teeth into a raw steak.

Stan had hesitated, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking in his gravelly voice, not bothering to wipe away a trail of blood rolling down his chin.

“…okay, yeah, I see what I did there.”

And of course, they were wildly different people who were bound to have disagreements. It had taken Ford quite some time to convince Stan that while they may argue, he was in no danger of losing his family again. He wouldn’t be sent away, punished or abandoned again. Not while Ford was still breathing.

The plant’s hiss brought him back to the moment. Ford frowned, considering his plan of action, before settling on the plain approach. They could simply carry the thing home.

“Can you get out one of the sample bags? I want to bring this specimen to my lab and they should be large enough to hold its roots.”

Stan rifled through the pack while Ford sized up the agitated plant. He would be able to dig up the roots if the darn thing would stay still! He would have to design some kind of muzzle appropriate for two mouths when they got it back to the house.

Ford made a lunge for the creature, trapping its stalk against the ground with one hand so it couldn’t bite him as he dug up its roots. The plant snapped at him fruitlessly. Ford quickly loosened up the soil enough to lift the whole thing and settle it roots-first in the awaiting sample bag.

Stan groused at having to carry the plant all the way home (one hand gripping behind its head, obviously, to stop it from biting). The whining was pretty unfair considering Stan had demanded to carry it so he could keep an eye on the snappish thing, but Ford supposed he could appreciate the intent.

(…on the other hand, that left Ford to carry the heavy pack. He was beginning to think that this wasn’t a purely altruistic move on Stan’s part.)

“When I took the job I didn’t realize ‘research assistant’ meant ‘gardener’.”

“I don’t pay you to whine, Stanley.”

“You don’t pay me.” Stan countered.

“Oh – don’t I?” Ford could have sworn he had been. Stan tended to handle the money so Ford had just… assumed that Stan was receiving some of it. He frowned. “Why don’t I pay you?”

“’Cause I live in your house? That’s kinda payment enough.”

“No it’s not!”

“It was when you thought I was a wolf.”

Ford spluttered. “That – that’s because you were a wolf. Wolves don’t need to be paid to act as research assistants-”

“Oh, are you saying wolves don’t deserve to be paid equal wages?” Stan shook his head in mock disappointment. “Gosh, Ford. My own brother-”

“Oh, shut up! You know what I mean!”

Stan snickered. He only laughed harder when Ford punched him lightly in the shoulder, careful not to jostle the creature in his grasp.

Ford glanced at his watch, taking note of the time. At this pace they would reach home well before dark. Maybe they should take a detour to check on the size-altering crystals? Ford had covered the Warped crystal with a tarp to prevent the light reaching it, but he really should check that the covering was still in place after the blustering winds that had recently swept through. He didn’t want any unsuspecting forest life to wander into its beam.

Then again, that could wait for another day, and they had a carnivorous plant to re-house.

“…I really do need to pay you, though.” Ford muttered as they walked.

“You really don’t.” Stan shrugged. “I’m not doing anything useful anyway.”

The nonchalance with which he spoke made Ford want to sigh. Stan never acknowledged his own value or input! Ford wanted to shove it down his throat and force his brother to acknowledge that he was important, goddammit!

For the moment, he settled on arguing his point.

“Shopping for food is useful; plus, the people in town know you better than me and I’ve been living here for years, so you’re basically handling public appearance. And collecting data from my monitors is useful.”

“That’s just walking and taking readings.” Stan argued right back. “A monkey could do that data-collection stuff.”

“Babysitting Tate while Fiddleford and I are busy is useful.”

“The kid’s easy, he just wants to spend time with a dog all day.”

“Defending the house from griffins is useful.” Especially since they seemed to have it out for the Pines twins and would come by every so often with claws and beaks bared.

“You woulda just found a better way to keep ‘em away.”

Ford gritted his teeth. “You handle the money and pay the bills.”

“It’s your grant money, I just budget it.”

“Exactly! That is exactly what I should pay you for!” Ford flung up his arms in exasperation. Stan merely shrugged, and – smirked? He was enjoying Ford’s misery! “Ugh, whatever.”

Stan continued to look smug. Ford silently resolved to start paying him, even if he had to sneak the money into his brother’s bank account. Or just leave some around the house. Apparently Stan was too proud to accept payment but the guy never passed up an opportunity to take it if it was there.

“…anyway, about the whole money thing, I was thinking.” Stan mumbled, a little more subdued. Ford glanced across.

“Yes?”

“Eh – well, y’know how there are so many cool things around here? If Pa’d let us come, we woulda loved it here when we were kids.”

Ford imagined himself as a child – bright-eyed and eager to learn, marveling at everything around him – and was inclined to agree.

“And just yesterday you were sayin’ about how no one appreciates this stuff. Really, I’m kinda surprised no one’s made something of this place before, snatched it up for a tourist attraction. I was thinking that it would be pretty cool to give… tours or something?”

Ford opened his mouth but his brother was already rushing ahead, a nervous scowl affixed to his face.

“It’s all good if you don’t want me to – probably something about the scientific integrity of the place or whatever – but, it’s kinda something I’m good at. Tours, selling stuff, talking to people, that stuff. A-And I know you love teaching people about things, so if you wanted to help? Like, write up information sheets or – or do classes or whatever. Obviously I’d be spinning some yarns, that’s the fun of these places, but I know people would love to see some of the weird stuff here and actually learn about it too, so I dunno, I think it would be cool?”

All of this was said rather quickly, with few breaths taken in between, so when Stan finally ran out of things to say he took a few heavy breaths. Ford blinked and took a few moments to process this.

“Stan, are you asking my permission to open a tourist trap?”

The werewolf cringed, grip tightening fractionally around the uselessly-wriggling plant creature. “No, ‘course not. I’m just… seein’ if you’d be open to the idea.”

“Well…” Ford adjusted the straps of his pack. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with my research, I think it’s quite an interesting prospect. It would be nice to be able to share some of the things I’ve learned. If you think you can pull it off I believe you. You don’t need my permission, of course, but you certainly have my support.”

“Wait, really?”

Ford laughed as his brother perked up. That was another thing he’d had to adjust to since their reunion – canines tended to express themselves heavily through body language and Stan had apparently picked up that trait. He had no tail at the moment but from the straight posture and slight vibrating, Ford imagined it would be wagging.

“’Cause I’ve got so many ideas.” Stanley gushed. “I was thinking I could get a place set up, probably in the woods closer to town – maybe contract that lumberjack guy you talked about to built it? Anyways, I’d fill it with attractions, some of the cool shit that lives around here. Like, you know that weird-ass bird we saw the other day, the one you said we shouldn’t bother to look into?”

“Having a second head is a fairly common mutation. I’ve studied several animals with that phenotype in my time here.”

“People eat that stuff up, Ford! And I could do tours around some of the harmless places – and charge a pretty penny for it too. You know how many shmucks are happy to get ripped off by dodgy fake tourist attractions? And this one would be real! I’d have a source of income, and you’d have somewhere to put the stuff you’ve finished researching, and people to teach if you want to. Plus this crummy town could use some tourists to give business a boost.”

Wow. Stan had evidently thought this whole thing out – and the excitement was contagious. Ford wondered if this was how his brother felt, when he himself became giddy about a new finding or breakthrough. Stan was grinning like a kid.

Ford laughed and elbowed him playfully. “It’s a sound plan. And it’s nice to see you’re putting aside your history with Dan. You growled at him last time we came across him – you weren’t yourself then, of course.”

Stan shot him a weird look. “Who?”

“Dan. The lumberjack.” Stan continued to look confused. “Matilda’s boyfriend?”

All at once the werewolf’s eyes widened. “The shovel guy.”

“Er – shovel?”

“He hit me with a shovel.”

“Oh.” Ford had almost forgotten the circumstances of their meeting, with himself rescuing Stan from being beaten to death. Ah – with what he knew now, the situation seemed a lot more dire. He strongly resisted the urge to grab up a shovel and see how Boyish Dan like being smacked into the ground.

Obviously Dan didn’t know it was a person he had assaulted, not a wolf, but still. It would make Ford feel better.

When no words came to him, Ford said the first thing on his mind. “Didn’t you try to eat his mother’s dog?”

“Dog? Fuckin’ thing was more of a bug than a dog. I was starving anyway, gimme a break!”

“I’m not judging. Anyway, I’ve seen you try to eat so many things-”

“Can it, Poindexter.”

Ford began to count on his fingers. “Squirrels, gnomes, the mayor’s hairpiece, our father, my kitchen cupboard, a whole watermelon for some reason-”

“I was outta my mind for half of those!”

“My phone, the multibear somehow, several lemons – why you kept coming back to them after knowing you hated them remains a mystery to me–”

They arrived back at the house before Ford could continue his list.

“We should get this thing planted before it dies or somethin’.” Stan shuffled the plant around in his arms to hold it more comfortably, ignoring its hiss of displeasure. “Where do you want it?”

“The porch should be fine. I don’t know how much energy it gets from its prey as opposed to the sun – it might need sunlight to live.”

“Right. You got a pot around? I can get Chompy here planted while you find something to stop it biting anyone who gets close.”

“’Chompy’? You named the plant?”

“You were too slow.”

Well, Ford couldn’t argue with that logic. He’d just have to be faster with the next creature they came across. They had a lifetime, after all, to squabble about names – among other things.

(For example, whether Ford was terrible for pretending to toss Stan the car keys but hiding them behind his back instead. It took Stan an embarrassingly long time to realize and once he did, Ford could barely see the withering glare he received through his snickering.)

(That evening, in revenge, Stan fell asleep on the couch lying across several of Ford’s books. Upon attempts to remove him Stan simply shifted into a wolf and thus became heavier and harder to move.)

(But these are stories for another time.)

#final chapter #my writing #my fic #gravity falls #werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #dang #this took a while to finish #mostly because it's the last chapter!#i wasn't sure how to finish my baby #anyway the main story is done now #i may write a couple one-shots from this au in the future #who knows?#i hope you enjoy

28 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 4 years ago

Text

Stolen - 23

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: A roller coaster of emotions and feels. A/N: So my psychiatrist recommended/ordered for me to take 2 weeks of sick leave because I’m a stressed out mess...that’s not going to stop me from writing, of course. Au contraire, without work I’ll have more time for that! Ask or reblog for tag ;)

23. Misery Machine

... Reader ...

What the ever-living FUCK? The bubble of happiness bursts, the pop loud in your mind but blown away by the cold storm raging before you in the shape of a raven-haired god with the colour of blood in his eyes. Memories of faces smiling during the feast come and go in a blur and leave you none the wiser as to what Loki’s problem is.

“Uh...yeah? It was okay,” you try carefully, “think I’m getting closer to Sif and the trio to accept me.”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm is probably the default state for the god, you decide there and then. “Practically crawling onto their laps.”

Staring dumbfounded at him, each snarled accusation is a whiplash driving you closer to desperation as up and down cease to make any sense. Unsure whether to laugh, cry, or scream back at him, you just stand stock still. Loki, on the other hand, has taken to stalking around the room as he denounces the Asgardian ways – feasts, pretend friendships, nothing goes free – before ultimately turning to you again on an unseen wave of icy coldness radiating from the bluing skin.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have my dear brother rescue you,” he hisses, “or went with Fandral for comfort...he’d be more than willing to oblige.”

“Wait...what?”

Oh yeah, the fallen prince’s eyes are swallowed by red, leaving only a pinprick of black from the pupil. “You heard me.”

Sure did, smurf. “This’s ‘bout them? Are you...? D’you think I’m desperate enough to dick it down with Fandral or have Thor sweep me away like I’m some maiden in distress?”

Now you’re the one getting into his personal space. Though you’re far from as imposing compared to a god with ruby eyes and frosty skin, his raven hair cascading to his shoulders in ways fit for an anime character, you still manage to push him back a few steps before he digs his heels in.

“Tell me honestly, the idea doesn’t tempt you, mortal?”

“Hell yeah, it tempts me! But, y’know what? I can’t! If I go back home to hide and some day Thanos shows up...how’d you think that’d make me feel? Or if you take your dumb-ass on some quest to find the fucker only to get killed? No, that ain’t happening ‘cause I’ma stick through with this. That’s what this mortal’ll do: do things right.”

You can barely see him because tears (which you refuse to let fall) are blurring your vision. By some miracle, you manage to find the door and march down the dim hallway without bashing face first into something but by the time you turn the first corner, your cheeks are wet.

GAAARGH! He’s such an...an...UGH! Haven’t you already proven yourself? Sure, he might just see you as a mortal, as he keeps pointing out, but how many mortals does he know that would’ve been able to handle the mess he’s thrown at you? Admittedly, it might be your self-diagnosed Stockholm Syndrome speaking when you feel you deserve more respect from Loki. Not that he has to “like me” like me...just...

Wiping salt water and probably snot from your face, you look around for somewhere to be alone with your thoughts and spot a double door which could lead to a balcony or terrace only to find it blocked by a blond figure.

“Lady [Y/N]?” You’ve only spoken with Thor once, but no one else has a voice like that, a voice you don’t want to hear right now. “Please, tell me what troubles you.”

Why bother? It’s so easy to follow along as he cups your elbow with one of the huge hands and escorts you onto what does indeed turn out to be a balcony.

Any other person would gasp at the view of the golden-roofed city below, stretching towards the ocean and the infinity of space just beyond. You, a sarcastic thought jeers in your mind, you’re busy sniffling and holding back tears because of some silly spat – and there’s no way you can tell that truth to the man beside you.

“I know...I’m a stranger to you and you have no reason to trust me with your worries,” Thor begins softly, “yet I do feel responsible for your fate. Your chance of happiness. What my brother di-”

“Enough!” The exclamation startles him, blue eyes reconsidering the woman before him. Oops. “I’m...I’m sorry, your highness,” you try to recover while your heart beats in your ears. “Forgive me. You have no obligations on my behalf, your brother’s actions are not yours to atone for.”

The dazzling smile is pretty even if it’s barely hiding a pain beneath. “Kind words, but clearly it torments you.”

“No.” Oh, that’s actually true. “No, what pains me is what I’ve learned since. Thor...you’ve been to Earth. You’ve seen us humans...and you know we’re hopelessly unprepared for what’s to come!”

“Even if Loki would be foolish enough to attack once more, Midgard is not defenceless. You know this.”

The Avengers. Thor had stopped Loki and his Chitauri (as you later found out the aliens were called) invasion. It hadn’t exactly been pretty which is something a lot of politicians are still pointing out – or were before you suddenly found yourself at the mercy of the guy who’d plotted the attack. It feels like years ago.

“Not...” How can I say this right? “Not Loki. Thor, please believe me, he’s not the real problem.”

“Any threat at all...your realm is under my protection.” At least his brows have the decency to furrow, almost hiding the pristine blue.

“He came for the Tesseract...but he already had a Scepter with magical abilities. Where did he get that? Who helped him – or who did he help?”

Obviously, the older brother isn’t as dimwitted as Loki claims because you can see tiny lights go on and off as he connects some of the dots – eyes gazing through your skull and into a different infinity than the one beyond the borders of Asgard and finding the murky areas where there isn’t enough information to illuminate the unknown.

When the crown prince does focus on you, a new worry tightens the muscles of his jaw. “If the Tesseract was all he wanted, why not leave?”

“Who wanted the Tesseract, really? And was that all?”

“Then why the invasion? A smoke screen?”

You shrug (even if it’s hard with Thor’s heavy hands resting on your shoulders) because what else can you do? And silence falls again as each option and its implications are weighed carefully.

“What makes you certain of this?”

Loki might be the God of Lies, Mischief, and whatnot...but looking up into his brother’s face there’s no way he wouldn’t sniff out the smallest inkling of deceit.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” you sigh, “I was...shown some bits and pieces. Been trying to make sense of it.”

“A vision.”

Weeeeell... “If that’s what you’d call it. I’m just scared of what might happen.”

Later, you’d think back of it as a pretty decent hug, but in the moment you are more concerned with continuously breathing as Thor pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“Get some rest, little one,” he smiles tiredly after pulling back, “you have my word I’ll look into this matter.”

... Loki ...

He hears her return to the suite, mainly due to the subdued curses as she struggles to undress. Then the few candles he had left alight are snuffed before [Y/N] settles into bed with a sigh. The single candle in the servant’s tiny room creates sharp borders between shadows and illuminated areas unless Loki exhales particularly hard. I’m not sighing.

Since the woman had stormed out of the quarters, the Jotun has tried to calm himself down and ignore the screaming in his marrow as guilt eats through the bones. Eventually, he succumbed and went to bed only to lie and stare up into the ceiling. A thin blade slips between his fingers in repeated somersaults until he grabs the knife by the handle only to redo the whole thing.

Counting his breaths, he reaches well into the hundreds before daring to step into the suite. The slanted moonbeams illuminate patches on the floor and bed, glistening on the silken covers shaped like a woman. He does his best to ignore it, he really does. Moving silently, Loki picks up the scattered layers of the dress to straighten them out and hang them on the other side of the screen. In the cold light, it is difficult to ascertain the colour of the fabric but he remembers it clearly from when he saw her across the room during the feast where he had been expected to assist – a task perfectly suited to get him closer to the servant and listen to their gossip, of course. He has to shake himself from the tainted memories before continuing the silent duties.

Once, not too long ago, these were details he didn’t bother with. The work of lowly servants, there was no need for a prince to worry about picking up after himself unless he chose to, and while Loki was (and is) meticulous he had certainly never expected to be the one doing this for others. Beneath me! Grumbling within, he still lingers to let the delicate ribbon from [Y/N]’s hair slither between his fingers.

It’s a welcome diversion to imagine how it would be to untie the bow and set her locks free. Or to be the one slipping the straps of the dress off her shoulders and watch it hang on for dear life by her bosom. To gently tug at it, bearing the nipples for me to admire. He can see it in his mind. What Loki doesn’t notice are the eyes watching him.

67 notes · View notes

atxlxs · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 6

A glance at the time told Eras that Muska was still stuck in the meeting. Unsurprisingly, but also disappointing. She had hoped the meeting would go faster so Muska would get home an hour ago. She really wanted to get food started so she could relax, the nerves of Musa going to a highschool had eaten at her all day.

Great, she was starting to sound like an actual mother.

*sigh*

Pulling out her phone, Eras opened the phone app and pressed call on Muska’s contact. Conveniently titled ‘parasite’. It rang for a total of 3 times before it clicked, suddenly two voices flooded through the phone. One, that was Muska, the other was definitely Nedzu. So the witch put her on speaker phone. Nedzu was probably trying to get her to answer more questions then they agreed to answer.

The chirpy “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your meal but if I may inquire, is your guardian real or not? I know you're older than most of us but as you said you are a minor for your kind. We would like to get you in a safe environment for the time you spend learning here and research revealed nothing but a name, Viridis Eras if I remember correctly.” was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.

Maybe, Eras wouldn’t have to worry constantly about her friend.

“I am very much a real person, Nedzu.” She said simply, her voice coming across smooth and melodic. The other side of the line went dead quiet. It almost made her chuckle but she refrained. Intimidation was hard to maintain through giggles.

“Hey Eras, what's up?” Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.

“The person that actually needs to eat physical food is not in my house to eat it. Since school ended 2 hours ago and my parasite wasn’t here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.” Eras responded, ignoring the soft “actually need to eat?” from the background of the call.

She wasn’t lying. After school had ‘released’ she had been checking the clock every 10 minutes. Anxiety over what could be happening kept her from focusing so she had sat down on the couch and glared at the fireplace for the entire 2 hours.

So what if she was overly worried, and for nothing it seemed? She has had bad experiences and experience is always the best teacher.

“Awe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?” Muska said, her tone teasing and Eras could pick up the faint sounds of choking from the other side of the line. Of course she would throw that term around in front of others.

“You wish, gremlin child.”

“Old woman.”

“Bitch witch”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Spaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if you’ll have the appetite for it. It’ll be there though.” Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. “Will you need a ride home?”

“Nah, Nedzu is practically vibrating in his place at the thought of another veil member, which he has correctly hypothesized you are, and would most definitely stalk the gate for you.” Muska returned, amusement bleeding into her tone as Eras caught snorts from around the room she was in.

Suddenly, a cough snapped her attention back to the conversation as said rat cleared his throat.

“As amusing as this is, Before you leave would I be able to ascertain who or what you are? Considering the age of the witch present, for her to address you as ‘old woman’ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.” Nedzu stated, interest coating his words.

Before she could respond someone in the back of the room, a gruff voice that was deep as fuck holy shit, spoke up with a warning present in his voice.

“Nedzu, I don’t believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.” the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.

“Thanks Aizawa-sensei.” Muska said, a little choppy on the sensei but that was expected honestly. Well, nice to know the name of the voice. However, Eras wanted to make the rat suffer a bit. He spent a few hours interrogating so she might as well dangle an interesting opportunity in his face and not allow him to reach for it.

“Yes thank you Aizawa-san, I don't mind telling you what race I am , Nedzu. I am also much older than the teen witch in front of you at the moment. Yet, alas,” she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, “I seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasn’t even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.”

With a response of “You got it bestie.” the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aizawa Shouta has had several revelations as the day passed. First of all, the broken bone boy was very determined to keep his place in the heroics class. He’s going to be a problem child, he has a sixth sense for them at this point. Secondly, one of his students is an enigma. She looks to be a bit older than 16, maybe 17, yet is over 2 and a half fucking centuries old. When he had first come across the term ‘beyond the veil’ he knew there were probably things that far surpassed humans in different areas but that old? That counts as a teen?

With a heavy sigh, Shouta sat through one of the wildest faculty meetings he had the displeasure of being forced to attend. That was saying something considering his employer was Nedzu. Granted, he wouldn’t have skipped this one anyways when knowing answers to the veil would be given. Understandably, not all of the answers, but now they had a firm idea about what actually lived beyond it. Also understandably, the new information was perplexing. Shouta wouldn’t touch any more information with a ten foot pole until whatever he was just given was processed.

As Viridis left the room, thankfully less chaotic than when she had entered, Shouta let out a sigh of relief. He rubbed his hands down his face and contemplated what he just heard. Finally, they had an overall summary of the types of races present in the veil and a somewhat structured hierarchy that would have to be explained further at some point in case they stumbled into the veil now but that could wait.

Shouta shivered as he remembered how oppressing the air had gotten in the room during Viridis’s talk about the forgotten. He had met hardened villains that had less presence and conviction then she did during her rant. They would need to hear about the taboos as well, he really didn’t want to be branded thank you very much.

Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No ‘Zashi, his jaw was firmly in place and had not dropped when the person spoke, even if it did that was warranted because he's sure he saw even nemuri marvel at how smooth it was, and no he did not snicker when they obviously baited Nedzu.) They wouldn’t have to worry about finding a place for them to stay safely while attending their school. This brought up some new considerations though. Groaning he slammed his head onto the table dramatically, the other teachers swiveling their heads to snap their gaze to him.

“Nedzu, she’s probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we don’t find a way to occupy her, we’ll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.”

All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy pro’s were unusually subdued after that showing. Whether from the presence of something completely unknown to them that was downright terrifying, or just the way Viridis acted and spoke to Nedzu, Shouta wasn’t sure.

Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the second day of Muska's highschool life, Eras felt off, like something bad was going to happen kind of off.

When she had ‘woken’ from her vegetative state that morning everything just felt wrong. Then as she got up to start the day things just kept happening. None of them were good.

First, she found out that Tibbles had knocked over her higher end coffee grounds. (Accidentally of course, Tibbles may see them as servants but he was smarter than most and knew better than to ruin something a vampire enjoys. Eras could hold a grudge and it isn’t pretty) Next, she was informed that she had 4 business meetings, back to back, since there was a supply disruption and her pseudo-bosses that she pays to handle shit like this were out of their depth and had never experienced this before. Great.

Rushing, Eras made the coffees out of the cheaper brand and it hurt her soul to do it, coffee was sacred, and ran back to the observatory where her closet was to get dressed.

Grabbing out one of her many business related outfits, she threw on the first one she saw and paced over to her full length mirror to adjust it. A forest-pine green silk button down, the top three buttons were left open and a mesh underbust corset tied it together and tucked it into black dress pants. She tugged on black platform heels that came to a stop above her ankles. A charcoal black coat that stopped at ankle length hung off her shoulders. Since fall was starting to approach, the days have gotten cooler so it was there just in case.

Not that she actually felt the cold, she was technically undead, but the aesthetic was important.

A few extra accessories to tie it together, a silver chain necklace and several statement rings that were scattered on both hands along with earring sets, and after fixing her middle part she was done. Black circle sunglasses were grabbed absentmindedly through habit as she left the room. The sun was bright and Eras’s eyes were made for the night.

When she walked back into the kitchen to grab her thermos filled with a caramel macchiato she heard a wolf whistle from the dining table. Spinning around, she noticed Muska staring at her with surprise.

That was warranted, Eras dressed like a gym obsessed hobo most of the time.

“Holy shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?” Muska said as she idly sipped her coffee while the phone she was scrolling through laid on the table, opened up to some kind of story based on the paragraphs of text she was seeing.

“Thanks, I have 4 business meetings that are emergencies because apparently a food supplier that I relied on had to recall everything, so I have to go down and explain what to do and listen to suggestions all day. I should be done by the time your school gets out so I’ll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.” Eras rambled a bit towards the end while fidgeting with her cup.

She was never able to gracefully accept a compliment outside of a text message, no matter how many years Muska’s been with her and hyping her up. Grabbing her keys, this time to her car and not the motorcycle (no matter how much she loves that bike she doesn’t want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.

“Want a ride there?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

A total of 3 minutes passed as Muska’s sleep-addled brain caught up and she nodded, downing the rest of her coffee like a shot and slipping into her room to change into the uniform.

That was also a new weird thing, Eras was definitely not used to seeing Muska in anything but various black outfits with the occasional color. She missed seeing the edgy outfits and platform heels that were always an unneeded height since Muska was fucking taller than her. (she could change that but she was comfortable with 163cm)

Once Muska came back out, a quick pet to Tibbles given on the way which gave them a meow (Muska immediately glared at the cat. Sadly, Eras was at a loss as to what the cat was saying. Again.) and they both walked out of the door. Despite living on a mountain, they had a stone path that led to a fairly sleek building that blended in with the surrounding trees and mountain terrain. Once inside, parked along the furthest wall and facing the exit were three vehicles. The motorcycle that Eras had driven Muska with on the exam day, a military grade jeep that was blacked out and decked out, and finally, a 1970 volvo. It was a pastel mustard color and belonged to Muska.

Swinging open the door to the Jeep, Eras climbed in and started the car. Opening the garage door with the touch of a button and left the moment Muska was strapped in.

The ride to UA was easy and calm, except for the blaring of Muska’s playlist that Eras didn’t dare tell her to turn down because it was one of her favorite songs and she was loudly singing along. Pulling up a block away from the highschool, Nedzu precaution, Eras waved Muska out of her car and yelled another “KICK ASS WITCH BITCH!” before cackling as she drove away from a very aggressive middle finger from her friend.

Time to go deal with meetings that could have been a conference call.

“I AM-” A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, “COMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

That is, not how normal people enter a room what the fuck?

The newest blond in the class stood at around 200 fucking centimeters tall and wore spandex like a second skin. In american colors. Muska had never paid attention to the #1 Pro hero before but the more she looks at this walking american flag the more she’s grateful for not paying attention. Then something caught her attention.

The man had the same leaking weird energy as the twink from the faculty room.

How the hell did the solid brick wall of meat turn into the skeleton of a man she had seen literally yesterday????? Not only that but the leaking energy seemed to travel through the classroom, as if closer to the source of what's gathering it. As she followed the line of energy she noticed it stopped in front of her, going right into greenie….

What did she just stumble upon?

This feels like national secret type shit.

She tuned back in to hear the hero describe the battle trails they would be facing. 2 on 2 battles with full quirk use and indoors with a fucking bomb to locate. Paper mache but still, this was kinda advanced. She did, however, perk up when he mentioned costumes.

That, she was extra excited about.

Despite not really coming to UA for the hero aspect but more of the quirk training aspect, Muska still felt pretty excited about the costume. Also, she would legally be allowed to beat people up as a hero as long as they were classified as criminals or villains. That sounds like a good stress reliever within reason. She wasn’t going to just maul them. That’d be an abuse of power.

After being dismissed to change, Muska ran up to snatch her costume and bolted to the locker room. She had some say in the weapons but Eras had actually taken the time to design the costumes basics in order to cover everything that might be flung after her. It was also a way to help placate her. For some reason Eras had been extra fidgety ever since she started going to school. There were some things she didn’t know about Eras’s past, but she definitely knew that there was some kind of trauma there, and whatever caused it happened in a school setting.

Opening the case, the first thing Muska noticed were the knee high steel reinforced combat boots that had armor built into it to act as knee braces as well. Next to them was a pair of mirror sunglasses that were purple, placed on top of a letter.

[You’re probably wondering about the glasses. I sent them into a support company for a little upgrade to help you out on the field. They're not necessary so if you want to skip wearing them that's fine but at least check out the surprise I’ve added ok?

Kick ass witch bitch

-E.V ]

Placing the sunglasses on her face Muska almost jerked them off in surprise as a cat mascot character appeared on the right side and waved before jumping across the glasses and they powered up, showing an HUD layout. Something said ‘put on suit to connect’ but that was ignored in favor of the other abilities. The right side had facial recognition software and a tracker for things that are marked in view. There was also a marker that she could activate to aim weapons, like a video game. The left had the ‘connect to suit’ warning at the top but underneath that was a mini map of the surrounding area using a fucking satellite. How the fuck?

Taking them off for now, Muska went and picked up her suit to throw on. There were Two layers. First was a black body suit with colored accents that glowed when wanted, right now they were purple but they could change colors. It was Kevlar and another special type of alloy to make it shock resistant, fireproof, frost proof, and immune to knives and bullets. Next, was a cropped hoodie and shorts which stopped at the upper thigh. The cropped hoodie was purple and the hood part of it looked like a witch hat, the long point fashioned after the stereotypical black witch hat.

There was a tactical belt that wrapped around her waist and connected to two belts that wrapped around her thighs below the shorts. The belts that went vertically on the side of her thighs held pockets of medical supplies and smoke bombs. The previous on the left and latter on the right. The belts that were wrapped around her thighs carried the pockets that held her brass knuckles. The belt around her waist held the whip so it dangled while coiled up off her right hip. Slipping on the boots and lacing them up surprisingly quick, the full outfit was on.

Putting on the glasses once more Muska discovered why it said to put on the full suit. At the top left of the sunglasses was a full body scan that continuously displayed her vitals. It was green for now but if she retained injuries it would slowly move between green to yellow to red. Red being critically or fatally injured.

Holy SHIT Eras! This is some Tony Stark shit?!?

Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #mha #mha co #bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #au

1 note · View note

thomasstalsworth · 4 years ago

Text

Over the River and Through The ...

[Prior]

The second time, it was his hearing.

Moray groaned, and before he could even feel or understand that he had done so -- he heard himself. That low-belly roar of discontent that spoke to a desire to bludgeon anything nearby. And indeed, whatever was nearby seemed to have taken the hint, because he heard scuttling footsteps moving distinctly away from him.

But the scuttling had the sound of boot-heel and wood. That must mean he had not dreamt his prior awakening, and was indeed still aboard the mysterious barque. With a great strength of spite to buoy his motive, his willed his eyes open.

And saw a skeletal face staring down at him from a few paces away.

“.. Whoa! Whoa now, don’t give me that look. I’m not the one who woke up about eight-tenths too early on the voyage, alright? You’re the mealy son of a barnacle that can’t just take a nap, mate.”

Immediately, Moray rammed two fingers against his throat and swallowed -- but to no sensation. That is to say, no sensation either in swell of throat and saliva nor blood. He had felt the same many times before, doing the diligence of his post, as a First Mate should, when dredging up the drowned. Check the pulse, feel for the throat, pace the temperature and see if there’s a chance of saving.

There wasn’t any. He was dead.

The skeletal captain took another couple of paces back, hands raised in supplication. “Look, I realize this is probably not what you were hoping for after-life-wise, but I promise it gets better. Again, you really weren’t supposed to wake up yet. Generally speaking I prefer to let folks get their rest on the voyage over. Plenty of work to be done later and -- alright, probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Again, usually you’re asleep right now. You definitely deserve the rest! Burning alive? I mean, wow. What a way for a sailor to go right? Kind of ironic if you think about it and … “

The skeleton paused in his rambling. It caused the deck of the ship to go ghostly silent. Appropriate, Moray thought in what vague sense of present mind he yet retained. Both unliving creatures stared at each other, and it was only then that Moray thought to look down at himself. Was he nothing but but bone and bare sinew as well?

… No, he was not. Although he was slightly more transparent than he remembered.

“.. You’re going through the ‘what kind of dead do I look like’ phase, right. That comes on pretty quick. Normally you’d be on a nice sandy beach, or on the pier, when those thoughts hit. But I guess you’re used to introspection on the main deck, right? Career sailor.”

Finally, Moray found it in himself to speak. The thought briefly terrified him to an extent he did not take any care for. There was a moment where he was concerned that whatever left him in this … state … would not be something he recognized.

“What the fuck is this?”

.. Ah, no. He still sounded the same as he remembered. That was something, at least.

The captain, bone and sinew and barnacle as he was, clacked his teeth together and nod.

“That seems like a fair question. I won't hold the foul language against you, mate. You’ve got kind of an awful hand stuffed in your drawers, so I’ll let a few swears slip.”

All around them still lay a perpetual fog. He took a glance around as the captain spoke, noting that it was all as he recalled from his earlier .. wakening. The vessel was true and sure, if old. A barque of some masterful make, riddled with the markings of many voyages. In truth? He found it quite comforting. If this truly was the afterlife, than he could think of few places more suitable or appropriate for him than the deck of a ship. Although it did beg many questions.

He looked back to see the captain already moving toward the helm, up the groaning stairwell of the port-side quarterdeck. Out of instinct if nothing else, he followed. The process was quite easy, he noted carefully. There was no familiar pull of muscle. Surely, some vague memory and vestigial sense of what he should be feeling was there. But while his legs part and placed as they had for decades prior, and his sea legs were still yet as keen as they’d ever been, he did not truly feel his thighs flex, or his calves press to surmount the stairs.

That would take getting used to. He only had eternity to adjust, after all.

The ship was entirely devoid of other .. ‘life’ .. for lack of better phrasing. It was only he and the skeletal captain -- what was his name again? ‘Bartlett’. He remembered that much before everything had gone black again. He resolved not to repeat that particular action. Fainting was hardly becoming of any sailor, much less one now settled to what looked like a damned afterlife.

He refused to consider the fairness, or unfairness, of where he was. Nothing to be done about it now.

At the helm, the captain turned about to face him. If a skeleton could grin sidelong, Bartlett did. His face -- what there was of a face, truly just bone and glowing sockets -- tilt underneath the boon of his tricorne and gazed at Moray. He didn’t find it as unsettling as he would have imagined. For a skeletal captain of what looked like his assigned life beyond life, the ‘man’, Bartlett, appeared quite … relaxed.

“Right. So, we’ll have to expedite the usual warm welcome. -- You are Emett Moray, son of Elizabeth and Montgomery Moray. Dedicated sailor. Naval instructor in the Wrynn military. Admiralty cadet. Chief petty officer first class under the Proudmoore expedition to Kalimdor. Aide to the construction of what became Theramore Isle, before it was destroyed. -- Sorry about that. -- And eventual employee of the Anchor Trading Company. Also your first boff was a pretty, red-haired lass named Winona. I’m sure I’m missing lots of important details, but I assume that’s enough that we can both agree that I’m not fudging the numbers here and am, indeed, the caretaker of your everlasting afterlife. -- Savvy?”

Moray could do little but stare, and give a grunt of affirmation.

Bartlett nodded once in return, and gave the ship’s wheel a ‘tap-tap!’ with his bony digits.

“Perfect, so we’re on the same page. Glad to hear that. I appreciate you saving your inevitable existential breakdown for later on, that’s honestly really helpful right now. -- I’m Bartlett, some call me by the surname ‘Blightnerve’. It’s frankly quite demeaning, but what’re you gonna do? The worlds are cruel. To be succinct, I captain this here vessel and am entrusted to grant good and fair passage to the honorable dead of the sea.”

Moray grunt again, an affirmation of acknowledgement. But in truth? He was starting to look about. There had to be more than one avenue of information available, even in the world beyond. He had done his share of training, and practice in earnest, at being held by enemy forces on sea and on land. Obey, abstain from overt action, and remain perceptive.

There was nothing but impenetrable fog beyond the vessel. He had already ascertained the make of it, although he did not yet know for certain what complement it bore beneath the main deck. This was the afterlife, it seemed. Who knew how spatial dynamics actually functioned when you were no longer constrained by such simple concepts as ‘time and matter’. He did not yet know. This could all be a test by the Tidemother to earn his proper death, after all. Perhaps if he was able to determine the trick at play and avoid damnation then the Mother herself would appear off the port-side bow and smother him to his appropriate demise in her enormous bosom.

... It was as likely as anything else at this point.

All the while, Bartlett kept on talking as he fiddled with the ship’s wheel in courtesy of some sight unseen.

“... Now normally I only take those who die at sea, but exceptions happen all the time. Now that I think about it, I really ought to stop calling them exceptions with the regularity of it … Basically, I take those who lived good lives in earnest connection to the sea. It used to be a really easy gig, honestly -- but things got a little .. uh, off lately. But hey, that’s nothing for you to worry about! We’ve got a bit of a voyage ahead because, again, you woke up early, but that’s no problem. You’re used to being on a ship, aren’t you? Simple! .. I’ve never actually had a crew aboard with me for the .. you know .. ‘sailing’ part, but we’ll figure that out. It’s not like you’ll get scurvy or anything, right? Haha! .. Because, as you’ve deduced, we’re both dead.”

Moray turned back to stare at him.

“Okay. Tough crowd, that’s alright. We can work on our interpersonal relationship later. Right now, it’s probably best if you just take awhile and get situated. Get used to your incorporeality and all that. Fog’ll be up for awhile so don’t worry about -- “

The ship jerked to one side, as if it had struck an iceberg. Even in the world beyond, unliving, Moray’s feet shift naturally to accommodate a swelling sea -- real or not. Speech was yet unfamiliar in his spectral throat, but he called out on instinct to the ‘captain’. … The captain, not his captain.

“-- What was that?!”

Bartlett dropped his bony jaw down, aghast. Somehow his brow, borne of nothing but kelp, gristle and calcium, managed to fall down in irritation. Both of his bony hands grasped the ship’s wheel with a fury.

“Are you kidding me? Of all the times!? -- I swear I had the course set AROUND the damn river!”

The barque jerked again, almost turning the main deck thirty degrees off center. Were it not for his intuition, Moray would have been hurled off the quarter and over the starboard side and into whatever unyielding abyss there was past the curtain of fog. But he did not have to wait long to learn what it was that yet lay beyond that precipice.

Bartlett howled once in a shrill tone that seemed to give the vessel to rising. Without crew or hand to trim, the barque obeyed the skeleton’s command. The unseemly fog part and revealed --

Had he any blood left in his veins, it would have ran cold.

Moray grasped at the port-side railing of the quarterdeck, staring off into the abyss beyond the ship. They were sailing over a vast nothingness, a resonance of energy that ran like ethereal water between motes of light. What phlogistic mass it was that buoyed them, he did not know. But it was clear that Bartlett did, as he cocked and crowed and howled in tremulous voice riddled with the workings of bone. The ship answered every call, rising and falling, shifting course to obey the great flow of energy beyond the deck. Moray could hardly begin to understand what he was looking at.

But then there was, as he had heard called from the crow’s nest so many times in his life, ‘land ho’.

Off the port-side of the ship, there was an enormous Tower, looming as if the end of days. It was so very far, but yet remained a presence to obscure all others in potency. Chains in the interstitial sea were clear to see as well, even by naked eye unbidden by spyglass -- and Moray did, on instinct, reach for his belt where he had kept his spyglass in life. But he found he did not need it. His senses were not the same as they once were.

Around the Tower, there were discarded landmasses. Sheer and broken rocks, held together by chains of some metalwork yet unknown to him. Between the greatest of the masses, there was some kind of .. intense river. A frothing mass of spectral sight, consumed with churning threads which felt uncomfortably familiar, even at such a distance. But the draft of the river echoed out beyond the chains and blackened shards of rock. It was a terrifying sight. A hellscape, in earnest.

And they were skirting the edge of it.

Suddenly, Bartlett was howling -- but not to the ship, he was calling to him.

“-- Hey! HEY! You’re a sailor, right? Get on the mizzen boom! Come on, come on NOW!”

There was not much choice in the matter. They were hurtling through the ephemeral space toward the edge of the great river, swollen with phantasmal masses. He skid down from the helm, and drove down the stairwell in three steps. Lightness of foot was something he could never have boast of, with his frame and Kul Tiran blood -- ‘drustblood’ as they had called it when he was a boy. But now? He was as agile as any halfskipper made of slight bone and sinew.

The blocks were empty.

“Mizzen boom, NO ROPES!”

Moray shout against the howl of the vessel’s unearthly keel, calling as he was trained.

Up above at the helm, as he feverishly held the ship’s wheel against what looked to be a great force, Bartlett rolled the luminosity in his sockets.

“Yes, congratulations on the observation, mate! We don’t need rope where we’re going! Will the thing to work! You’re not alive anymore, the rules are different -- don’t question it!”

Moray slammed his eyes to and fro, staring between Bartlett as he fought at the helm and the churning river oncoming that threatened to pull them into it’s wake and throw them down into the middle of those chains, chewing rock, and toward the Tower …

“How in the five-bottomed hells do I do that!?”

Bartlett’s bones sounded in the din of it all, grinding and chewing in a pitch that was eerily close to the sound of dogs slavering over the same scrap of femur.

“Just make it work, sailor! Don’t question it!”

Bartlett heaved his entire body to one side of the ship’s wheel, holding as hard as he could to keep the damned thing from turning the rudder -- and them -- toward the river of souls.

“Don’t QUESTION IIIIT!”

Moray stared at the block and tackle, absent of rope. He was quite an adept and capable sailor, indeed a reasonable engineer if push came to shove in nautical endeavors. But he was no wizard, no sorcerer or conveyor of shifting digits, wiggling to produce effect from ephemeral. But --

What other option was there but to try?

And so he did. Moray heaved whatever presence of spirit he possessed, incorporeal in part as his body was. It took a moment, tugging and gristling his teeth in spectral maw, but he eventually called up … something … to answer his demands.

The blocks of the mizzens’ boom came alight with threads of otherworldly energy. Like a rope, but yet so far apart. He found, in that moment, that it didn’t matter. He heaved.

The ‘ropes’ held true, surging with some scrappling of energy that seemed to flow directly from him rather than anything else. Not the captain’s calls and whistles which buoyed the ship hither or thither; no, the ropes came alive of his own ghastly accord.

Convenient, if unsettling.

But there was no time for diatribe, discussion or philosophy. He could figure out what in the Tidemother’s left tit was going on at a later date -- if one ever came. He heaved, and heaved, and the effort finally bore fruit as he heard Bartlett scream down from the helm above. Moray had been so engrossed in trying to be the specter of the mizzenmast that he had not even seen them cresting the river of souls below.

But he felt it -- the keel of the ship bucked and quaked in argument, but held true.

Like a dark riverstone over bubbling waters, they skipped across the frothing current of the otherworld, screaming and begging souls briefly audible.

“.. For Azeroth! .. “

Some distant, keening cry was almost muffled by the river’s denizens. But they were already over it before even a piercing eye could try to look far, far down the flow to see what had brought the voice. It was deep, and powerful. In the wake of the voice, behind them, the river backflowed and roared with a seething, shadowy power.

They had crossed just in time, it seemed.

“WHOOO! What a play! What a play! We’re over the needle’s edge now, WOO! I can’t believe that worked, haha! Maybe I need to start skipping near to Gorgoa more often, that swell is gonna have us home in no time!”

The captain crowed from the helm, and seemed ajoyed of their daring flight. Moray’s mouth sauntered to side, and he could not find himself agreeing with the sudden joviality. What had just happened? What was that river -- and what Tower did it pass so near of?

The voices, all so brief, were not sounds he would soon forget.

But they were coursing strong, the sails filled with whatever phlogistic winds were surging in the otherworldly night. All around them, as the blackened stone, Tower and river behind were becoming little more than a blip in the non-existent horizon, there was darkness. A night sky of a different kind. He found it to be, oddly, not unlike the artistry and renditions he had read of in reference to the Twisting Nether. But there were no words for the colors he now saw.

Thin, stippling threads of graceful energy sunken to some dim blue, moving in helices. Bright motes which glimmered in varying hues as if trying to communicate, like some deep sea creatures innumerable. Driftwood of a different sort; hunks of stone and earth and swollen moss which were vast in their alien flora. A few even bore single specimens, an albinistic animal here or there, half-real, staring back at him before they would pass at-speed.

He had to pause, and take a step away from the edges of the ship. Back to the familiar.

But before he could really try and take stock of what had happened -- what was happening -- he heard Bartlett’s voice cry out from the helm once again. He looked back to behold the skeletal captain, and received a nod in tandem to his words, ushering him to look a-bow.

“That swell gave us a good speed. Take a look, mate, we’ve got you home ahead of schedule.”

And Moray looked where he was bidden, toward the bow of the ship -- ahead.

Through the churning sea of the afterlife, the in-between of realms made from all kinds and for all kinds, there was a single and minor port of harbour ahead of them. Truly, it was -- a breach in the darkness between ‘worlds’, swollen with the sunlight of late morning. A crescent island as any other he could have named from Azeroth, large enough to house a small, coastal township and a stalwart port with one singular, powerful dockhead.

It looked like paradise.

Bartlett rested against the ship’s wheel, the work of the voyage done as they sailed gently now toward the crescent of safe harbour before them.

“.. Welcome to Haven, mate.”

#canon #First Mate Moray #Bartlett Blightnerve

8 notes · View notes

nanigma · 4 years ago

Text

Blue Lions Translation Chapter 1

Hey, everyone. Since I am currently on holiday and finally finished my latin exam, I decided to start up something fun for us to look at. I’ll make it my mission to go through the Japanese script for the Blue Lions route and translate it as I go. May it reveal neat things small and big.

Can’t promise I will actually make it through it all, but I’ll definitely try my best.

Before we go, I’d like to mention that I am without income this month and would appreciate any bit of help you can give me through my ko-fi account. Times are rough.

My comments in italics

Some small things to note as we start out in White Clouds. I only plan on translating the Blue Lion specific lines first. It just gives me less text to work through all at once. If my stamina lasts long enough, I might go back at a later point and do a translation of all the ‘neutral’ dialogue in between.

Chapter Dialogue

First meeting with the Blue Lions

アネット: えっ、新しい先生って、まさか……あわわ、あたし、友達みたいに話しかけちゃって……▼ 同い年くらいに見えたから、つい……！すみません、気をつけますっ！！▼

Annette: Eh, you mean the new teacher is... no way.. ahh. And I even talked to you like we were friends. ▼ You look like you are my age so... I am so sorry, I will be careful from now on!! ▼

[選択:構わない]

[Choose: I don't care]

アネット: そ、そんなこと言われても……。

Annette: Even if you say so...

ディミトリ: え��、こちらの気が済みません。

Dimitri: Yes, it is on us to apologize.

シルヴァン: 先生が言うんだし、いいんじゃないですか？つーか、それを言ったらですよ、殿下……▼ そもそも、俺たちがあんたにこんな口を利いてるのだって、不敬もいいとこでしょ。▼

Sylvain: But the Professor said they don't care, so it's fine, right? And anyway, if we are already on the topic, your highness.. ▼ Since we've been talking to you so casually all along, a little disrespect can’t be that bad. ▼

ディミトリ: いや、ここは王国ではないんだし、それとこれとはまた別の話で……▼ ……だがまあ、先生がそれでいいならありがたくその厚意に甘えるとしようか。▼

Dimitri: No, this isn't the kingdom, so how we talk there is completely unrelated to how we talk here... ▼ However, if it is alright with the Professor, we shall take them up on their offer gratefully. ▼

イングリット: あの、ですが私には…… 染みついた癖というのは、どうにも……。▼

Ingrid: Um, I myself... I am not sure if I can go against my manners like that.. ▼

メルセデス: 難しいなら、無理することないわよ～。ね、先生もそれでいいでしょう？▼

Mercedes: No need to force it, if it's difficult for you~. I am sure that's fine with you too, Professor? ▼

Byleth nods

[If Byleth is female]

シルヴァン: 先生は器がでかいなあ、素敵だ！あっ、結婚を前提に、俺とお茶でも……

Sylvain: The professor has such a big heart, how wonderful! Ah, we should discuss marriage sometime over a cup of tea and-...

I had to look up what 器がでかいなあ means. Literally it would be more like “Your vessel is big” and I suspected something sleazy at first, but it seems Sylvain is innocent.. this time.

フェリクス:……待て、シルヴァン。こいつには用がある。▼

Felix: … Wait, Sylvain. I need something from her.

フェリクス……そういえば、先ほどお前に言ったな。剣を交える日を楽しみにしている、と。▼

Felix: … Anyway. You told me before, right? About looking forward to the day we cross swords.

Whoever uploaded the Japanese script speculated this line only shows up if you talked to him during exploration before. Which would make more sense. The localization rephrases it as “I’ve heard of you and wanna fight” which either means the above showed up regardless, potentially causing confusion for Japanese players who skipped talking to him, or the localization made it non-conditional. I’ll have to boot up my game at some point to check.

[Continuing for both Blyeths]

フェリクス: 後で訓練場に来い。まずはお前の腕を見せてもらいたい。▼

Felix: Come to the training hall after this. First things first, I want you to show me your skill.

ディミトリ: 抜け駆けとは感心しないな、フェリクス。その試合、是非俺も交ぜてくれ。▼

Dimitri: It wouldn't be right for you get a headstart, Felix. Please let me partake in that match as well.

English!Dimitri just comments that Felix is right to the point. But I like him teasing a bit here.

Also Dimitri used much more polite language before this, but has now switched to a more casual style, like promised.

フェリクス:……チッ。▼

Felix: … Tch.

アッシュ: あ、あのっ！　後学のため、僕も見学させていただきたいんですが！▼

Ashe: H- Hey! I would also like to observe the occasion for future reference.

ディミトリ: アッシュ。見るだけと言わず、お前も加わればいいだろう。▼

Dimitri: Ashe, leaving out the bit about observation, it would definitely be good for you to join as well.

メルセデス; ふふっ、怪我した時は私に言ってね～。ちょっとした傷なら、すぐに看てあげるわ。▼

Mercedes: Hehe, just tell me if you get hurt. I'll look after any scratch immediately.

ドゥドゥー:……殿下。あまり羽目を外され過ぎぬよう。▼

Dedue: … Your highness. Please do not overextend yourself.

ディミトリ: お前は心配性だな、ドゥドゥー。大丈夫、自重はするさ。▼

Dimitri: You really are a worrywart, Dedue. It's alright, I'll take care.

シルヴァン: なあ……親睦を深めるのに剣を交えるって、何か根本的に間違ってると思うんだけど？▼

Sylvain: Hey... doesn’t anyone think there’s something seriously wrong with deepening our bonds by swinging swords at each other?

イングリット: あら、そうかしら。そういうことなら、あなただけ教室で留守番してる？▼

Ingrid: My, is that so? In that case, I suppose you'll stay behind and watch the classroom for us?

シルヴァン: イングリット……お前さあ、ほんっと俺に対して手厳しいよなあ……。▼

Sylvain: Ingrid... you are always so harsh when it comes to me...

ディミトリ: ……先生。青獅子の学級ルーヴェンクラッセは、見てのとおり騒がしい学級だ。▼ いろいろと苦労をかけるかもしれないが、これから１年、よろしく頼む。▼

Dimitri: Professor. As you can see, the Blue Lions are a very boisterous class. ▼ We might cause you a lot of trouble, but we'll be counting on your for coming year. ▼

Exploration

Again, sticking only to the Blue Lions for this one and leaving out the lines they have when recruited or when you are in a another house for now.

[Annette]

Speech Bubble: I could swear I saw him...

アネット: こんにちは、先生。あの、ちょっと質問があるんですけど……。▼ あたしと同じ色の髪の毛で、しかめっ面の、暗ーい雰囲気のおじさん、知りませんか？▼

Annette: Hello, Professor. Um, I have a question for you... ▼ Do you know an older man whose hair the same colour as mine, with a frown on his face and surrounded by a gloomy aura? ▼

[選択:人捜し？]

[Choose: Are you looking for someone?] +Support with Annette

アネット: ……はい。ちょっと、事情があって……。もし見かけたら、教えてくださいね！▼

Annette: Yeah... There's a bit of a situation... Please tell me, if you see him, okay?

[選択:知らない]

[Choose: I don't know]

アネット: やっぱり、そうですよね……。ごめんなさい、変なこと聞いちゃって！▼

Anette: I knew it... I'm sorry for making you listen to such a weird question.

[Dimitri]

ディミトリ: 近く、学級対抗戦が催されるそうだな。訓練を怠らないようにしなければ。▼ 先生は、俺たち生徒個人の能力を把握し、的確な指導をしてやってほしい。▼ 実りある戦いにするのはもちろんだが、戦うからには勝ちたいだろ、先生。▼ 大修道院は初めてだと言っていたな。折角だ、俺から簡単に案内させてもらおう。▼

Dimitri: We will soon be holding a mock battle against the other classes. We mustn't neglect our training. ▼ I wish for you to ascertain each students individual abilities and instruct us precisely. ▼ It's sure to be a rewarding experience either way, but of course I want to win, Professor. ▼ You mentioned this was your first time at the monestary. In that case I shall give you some basic information on it. ▼

[選択可:施設の利用]

[Select: The use of facilities]

ディミトリ: 大修道院内の施設は、士官学校の生徒や教師にも利用が許可されている。▼ 例えば、食堂では他の者と食事を共にでき、訓練場では一対一の稽古ができる。▼ ここで生活する人々の話に耳を傾けながら大修道院内を散策してみるといい。▼

Dimitri: The facilities inside the monastery are permitted to be used by all the students and teachers. ▼ For instance, you can go to the dining hall to enjoy a meal with others, or go to the training hall to have one-on-one matches. ▼ It would be a good idea to lend an ear to what the people living here have to say, while you wander through the monastery. ▼

[選択可: 掲示板とクエスト]

[Select: The bulletin board and quests]

ディミトリ: 大修道院の各所には「掲示板」がある。先生は、見たことがあるか？▼ 掲示板には、各所からの依頼や門前にある市場の情報が掲示されている。▼ こういった依頼に応えることで、使えるようになる施設もあったと思う。▼ 掲示板の情報は、頻繁に更新される。毎節、一度は確認しておいたほうがいい。▼

Dimitri: There are various bulletin boards throughout the monastery. Have you seen them, professor? ▼ On the boards you'll find requests from various places posted, as well as information on the market in front of the gates. ▼ By responding to these requests, I think you will eventually be able to use more facilities. ▼ The information of the board gets updated frequently. It would be best to check them whenever you have the chance. ▼

[選択可: 行動力]

[Select: Activity meter]

ディミトリ: 当然のことではあるが、何の施設にしろ利用すると相応の時間がかかる。▼ 一日を無駄にしてしまわないよう、計画立てて行動した方が良いだろうな。▼

Dimitri: Although this should be obvious, an appropriate amount of time passes as you use each facility. ▼ It would be best to carefully consider your activities, so that you do not let an entire day go to waste. ▼

[選択可: 指導レベル]

[Select: Instruction Level]

ディミトリ: この士官学校の教師は、極めて高い水準の指導力を求められる。▼ 生徒だけでなく教師も、分野を超えた知識を習得し、研鑽に励まなければならない。▼

Dimitri: The professors at the monastery are expected to meet exceedingly high standards of leadership. ▼ So they too, not just their student, must strive to acquire knowledge outside their field and study diligently. ▼

[Dedue]

ドゥドゥー: 殿下はお前を信頼すると仰った。ならば、おれがお前を信じない理由はない。▼ お前が殿下に刃を向けるというなら、話は別だがな。▼

Dedue: His Highness told me he trusts you. Therefore, I have no reason not to believe you. ▼ If you ever turn your blade against him, it will be a different story however. ▼

[Sylvain]

[If Byleth is male]

シルヴァン: よう、先生。暇してるんなら、一緒に街にでも出ませんか？▼ まだ見ぬ美女を捜しに……。……いや。冗談です。そんな目で見ないでください。▼

Sylvain: Hey, Professor. If you are free, would you care to go into town with me? ▼ I'm still looking for beauties I haven't seen yet and... No. I was joking. Please don't look at me like that. ▼

[If Byleth is female]

シルヴァン: よう、先生。暇してるんなら、一緒に街にでも出ませんか？▼ 美味い飯を出す宿場を見つけたんですよ。これは、先生を誘うしかないと思いまして！▼

Sylvain: Hey, Professor. If you are free, would you care to go into town with me? ▼ I found an inn that serves the most amazing food. I feel like I just have to take you there! ▼

[Felix]

Speech Bubble: ...It's you.

フェリクス: ……何か用か。▼

Felix: … Need something?

[選択:剣の相手を]

[Choose: Spar with me] +Support with Felix

フェリクス: ……ふ、面白い。▼

Felix: .... Heh, interesting.

English has him explain he doesn’t have time right now. Presumably because nothing happens after this. lol

[選択:用はない]

[Choose: It's nothing]

フェリクス: なら、さっさとそこをどけ。目障りだ。▼

Felix: Then get out of my way. You are blocking the view.

Felix is extra special rude here, since you can also translate the second line to calling you an eyesore.

[Ashe]

アッシュ: あ、先生も植物を見に来たんですか？凄いですよね、ここの温室は。▼ 王国では見たこともないような薬草や、珍しい花がたくさん植えられているんです。▼

Ashe: Ah, did you come to look at the plants too, Professor? This greenhouse really is amazing. ▼ They are planting all sorts of vegetables I haven't seen in the kingdom before, and a lot of strange flowers too. ▼

[選択:あまり興味が……]

[Choose: I'm not really interested..]

アッシュ: あはは、そうですよね……僕も、教わるまで植物なんて全部同じだと思ってましたから。▼

Ashe: Haha, yeah before I was taught about them, plants all seemed the same to me too.

[選択: 詳しいの？]

[Choose: Are you well informed?]

アッシュ: 僕の養父が詳しいんです。見分け方や、調薬なんかも教えてもらいました。▼

Ashe: My adoptive father is the one who is well informed. He taught me how to tell the plants apart and care for them. ▼

[Continuing]

アッシュ: 先生も、気が向いた時に花を眺めてみるのがいいと思います。楽しいですよ。▼

Ashe: I think it would be a good idea to look at the flowers whenever you can, Professor. It's a lot of fun.

[Mercedes]

メルセデス: この士官学校に来る前はね～、王都で、魔道の学校に通っていたの。▼ アン……ええと、アネットのことよ。アンとは、そこで仲良くなって……▼ あ、ローレンツもいたんだったかしら？▼ 少し年上の私にも親しくし��くれるアンは私にとって、かけがえのない親友なの～。▼

Mercedes: You see, before coming to the academy~, I attended the school of sorcery in the capital. ▼ Ann..- I'm talking about Annette. I got to know Ann at that place.... ▼ Ah, I think Lorenz also attended? ▼ Although I am a bit older than her, Ann got pretty close to me, so I consider her an irreplacable and dearest friend of mine~. ▼

[Ingrid]

イングリット: 青獅子の学級ルーヴェンクラッセの名は、ファーガス神聖王国初代国王の尊称から取られているんです。▼ 青き外衣を翻す“獅子王”ルーグ様。多くの騎士道物語に活躍が描かれています。▼ 書庫には、いろいろな書物があるはずです。もちろん王国史や、騎士道物語も。▼ 是非、読んでみてください。きっと新たな発見があるでしょうから。▼

Ingrid: The Blue Lion's name derives from the honorary title of the first king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. ▼ The „Lion King“ Loog, always garbed in blue. His deeds have been immortalized in various chivalric tales. ▼ The library ought to have many books about him. Historic accounts as well as chivalric tales of course. ▼ Please read them if you get the chance. I am sure it would give you a new perspective. ▼

Pre-mock battle discussion

ディミトリ: いよいよ模擬戦か。はは、腕が鳴るな。先生はどうだ？▼

Dimitri: It is finally time for the mock battle. Haha, I am eager to put my skills to the test. How about you, Professor?

[選択:楽しみだ]

[Choose: I am looking forward to it]

+ Support with Dimitri

ディミトリ: 良かった。先生の采配、期待してるよ。俺たちも、勝利のために力を尽くそう。▼

Dimitri: I am glad to hear it. I have high hopes for your command, Professor. We shall also give everything for the sake of victory.

[選択: 勝てるかな]

[Choose: „I wonder if we can win“]

There’s nothing listed in the script. I wonder if it’s a gap. Again, something to check for later.

[Continuing]

ディミトリ: 大丈夫だ。手強い相手かもしれないが、きっと勝てる。▼

Dimitri: It's all right. Our opponents may be difficult, but we will surely win.

クロード: やあ、お二人さん。作戦会議かい？　俺たちも交ぜてくれよ。▼

Claude: Hey, you two. Having a stragey meeting? Please let us join in too.

ディミトリ: 勘弁してくれ、手の内は隠すものだろ。相手が強敵なら、尚更だ。▼

Dimitri: Spare me, Claude. It's only natural to keep our hand concealed, isn't it? Even moreso if the opponent is so formidable.

クロード: そりゃあ光栄。ならば期待に応えて、俺たちも奇策を用意しておかないと、なあ？▼

Claude: Now that's an honour. To live up to such expectations, should we come up with some plans of our own, or..?

エーデルガルト: ええ、貴方たちがどんな手で来ようとも、それを上回る戦術で打ち破ってあげる。▼

Edelgard: That's right, no matter what you may come up with, we shall tear it down with superior tactics.

ディミトリ: いや、張り切るのはいいが……。あまり、無茶をしないようにな。▼

Dimitri: Uh, it's nice to see you so invested... Just don't overdo it, okay?

エーデルガルト: へえ。敵の心配をするなんて、随分と余裕があるようね、ディミトリ。▼

Edelgard: Huh, you must feel pretty confident to be worrying about your enemies, Dimitri.

クロード: おやおや戦いはまだだってのに、そんなに熱くなって……我が学級は楽をできそうだ。

Claude: My my, the battle hasn't even started and you are already fired up like that... My class should have an easy time of it.

ディミトリ: そういうつもりじゃ……いや、悪かったよ。何はともあれ、実りある戦いにしよう。▼

Dimitri: That's not what I-... No, I am sorry. Whatever happens, let us make it a rewarding experience.

エーデルガルト: ふふ、それはこちらも同じよ。そうでしょう？▼

Edelgard: Hehe, the sentiment is mutual. Isn't that right?

Okay, so this line is skipped entirely in the English script and it is Dimitri who asks the question. Maybe because it does sound weird that Edelgard would single out Byleth for this when they are on opposing sides, but I can’t be sure. Would need to find a playthrough of the Japanese version to confirm.

[選択:お手柔らかに]

[Choose: Please go easy on us]

クロード: おっと、先生の本心はわかってるんだ。負ける気はないって顔に書いてある。▼

Claude: Now just wait, I can tell how you really feel, professor. Your face has „We won't lose“ written all over it.

[選択: 負ける気はない]

[Choose: We won't lose]

エーデルガルト: そう。貴方がそう言うのなら、手を抜いてあげる必要はなさそうね。▼

Edelgard: I see. If you say so, there is no need to hold ourselves back.

[Continuing]

マヌエラ: あらあら、みんな揃ってお喋りかしら？すっかり仲良くなったようね。▼

Manuela: My my, you've already gathered for a nice little chat, haven't you? You seem to get along perfectly well.

ハンネマン: 君たちが親睦を深めるのは大変結構だが、そろそろ作戦会議の時間だ。▼

Hanneman: Although deepening your bonds with each other is quite animportant matter, it's time for the mock battle to begin.

クロード: もうそんな時間か。それじゃ、お二人さん。また後でな。▼

Claude: It is already? In that case, I'll be seeing you two later.

エーデルガルト: 貴方たちの力量、確かめさせてもらうわ。▼

Edelgard: I shall determine your abilities.

Before the Battle

ディミトリ]さて、そろそろ開戦の刻限か……。勝敗は先生の指揮次第だ、頼んだぞ。▼

Dimitri: Now then, it's about time for the battle to begin... The outcome depends on your orders, Professor. We are counting on you.

I skipped most of Jeralt’s dialogue cause it’s mostly the same every route.

[Turn one]

ローレンツ: クロード、お前の浅知恵など必要ない。僕とイグナーツ君で敵の出鼻を挫いてやる。▼

Lorenz: Claude, your shallow tactic won't be necessary. Myself and Ignatz are going to hinder the enemy's approach.

イグナーツ: ええっ、ボク！？まだ心の準備ができてませんよお……▼

Ignatz: U-uh, me!? I haven't mentally prepared yet...

English simplified this to “I’m not ready yet”, which is also correct, but it sounds a bit more adorable in Japanese.

クロード: やれやれ……向こうの先生を侮ってないか？油断すると痛い目に遭うと思うがなあ……。▼

Claude: Oh boy... are you making light of the professor we’re facing? If you're too careless, I think you'll be in for a painful experience...

エーデルガルト: ドロテア、貴方も前に出てくれる？敵を中央に誘い出したいの。▼

Edelgard: Dorothea, can you go ahead as well? I want to lure the enemy into our midst.

ドロテア: 了解、エーデルちゃん。私にお任せあれ。▼

Dorothea: Understood, Edel-chan. Leave it to me.

エーデルガルト: フェルディナント、ヒューベルト。二人は敵が来たら足止めを……機を窺うわ。▼

Edelgard: Ferdinand, Hubert. If the enemies approach, you two will stop-.... wait for your chance.

Edelgard has a weird pause in this sentence in Japanese. Like she is reconsidering something maybe?

フェルディナント: ふっ、任せてくれたまえ。私一人でも役不足なくらいだとも！▼

Ferdinand: Hah, simply leave it to me. I’d say this is too simple a task, even were I alone.

ヒューベルト: くくく……貴殿一人では力不足ゆえ、主は私の名も挙げたのですよ。▼

Hubert: Hehehe... It is because of your own lack of skill, that my lady brought up my name as well.

Hubert has the most stereotypical evil anime villain laugh of all time. The only reason I didn’t translate it as “Muahaha” is because it doesn’t flow as well in English.

[Defeating Lorenz]

ローレンツ: チッ、この僕が負けるなんて……。模擬戦とはいえ腹立たしい……！▼

Lorenz: Tch.. To think I could be defeated... Even for a mock battle, this is most irritating.

This is cut down a bit in English

[Defeating Ignatz]

イグナーツ: あはは、やられちゃいました……。新しい先生の指揮、流石だなあ。▼

Ignatz: Hahaha, you got me... The new teacher's commands are really something.

[Defeating Hilda]

ヒルダ: もー！　あたしなんて、放っといてくれればいいのにー！▼

Hilda: Come on! You could have just left little old me alone, you know!

[Defeating Hubert]

ヒューベルト: むう……新任の教師の力の一端を、見られただけで良しとしましょうか。▼

Hubert: Well... I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with simply having observed the new teachers strengths well enough.

[Defeating Ferdinand]

フェルディナント: エーギル家の嫡子たる私がそんな…… くっ、もっと鍛錬しなければ……！▼

Ferdinand: To think this could happen to a son of House Aegir... ugh, I'll have to train more.

[Defeating Dorothea]

ドロテア: あら……新しい先生は、随分なやり手みたいですねえ。▼

Dorothea: Oh my... the new professor seems quite capable.

[After defeating the other Golden Deer]

クロード: やってくれるね、先生。これは本気でかからないとな……！▼

Claude: You did well, professor. I'll need to take it seriously from here..!

[If Edelgard gets close before the Golden Deer are dealt with]

クロード: ２つの学級と同時に戦おうってのか？へえ、たいした自信だな。▼

Claude: You going to fight two classes at once? Heh, that's some self-confidence you got there.

エーデルガルト: 勝機が見えたわ……。黒鷲の学級アドラークラッセ！　一気に畳みかけなさい！▼

Edelgard: I've spotted my chance... Black Eagles, go forth as one!

[If Claude gets close]

クロード: この森を利用して敵を迎え撃つぞ。みんな、援護してくれ！▼

Claude: We'll attack our enemies using these woods as cover. Everyone, back me up!

[Approaching Claude by going around the woods]

クロード: おっと、回り込んできやがったか……。こりゃ強引に迎え撃つしか手はないな。▼

Claude: Oops, you got around... Looks like I'll have to use brute force.

[Byleth vs. Claude]

クロード: 俺は戦術はともかく戦闘はからきしなんだ。だから手加減してくれよ、先生。▼

Claude: Aside from tactics, I'm not much for the battlefield. So please go easy on me, Professor.

Byleth: ….

クロード: 真顔で頷かれると困るが……。冗談ってのは、わかってるよな？

Claude: Going along with such a serious expression is quite unsettling... You do know that was joke, right?

[Dimitri vs. Claude]

クロード:……なあ、王子様。お前、実はエーデルガルトに惚れてるんじゃないか？▼

Claude: … Hey, Prince. You're actually pretty sweet on Edelgard, aren't you?

ディミトリ: 無駄口を叩くのはやめておけ、クロード。隙だらけだぞ。▼

Dimitri: Stop with the idle chatter, Claude. It leaves you wide open.

クロード: おっと、その落ち着きっぷりは外れか。動揺を誘ったつもりが、残念、残念。▼

Claude: Oops, that didn't phase you at all. I was trying to make you slip up, what a shame.

[Defeating Claude with other Golden Deer still around]

クロード: あらら、やられちまったか……。他の奴らの活躍に期待するしかないな。▼

Claude: Tsk tsk, you got me, huh... Looks like all I can do is put my faith in the other's efforts.

[Defeating Claude after the other Golden Deer]

クロード: おっと……油断しすぎたか。金鹿の学級は、これで敗退だな。

Claude: Oh... seems like I was careless. Looks like this is it for the Golden Deer.

[Defeating Hanneman]

ハンネマン: 実戦を積んだ者の指揮は、流石に違うな。我輩が手も足も出なかったよ。▼

Hanneman: As expected, having actual experience with commanding in battle really does make a difference. I couldn't hope to measure up.

(If Manuela is still around)

マヌエラ: 去年あたくしの学級が勝った時は、褒めもしなかったくせに、その態度の違いは何！？▼

Manuela: When my class won last year, you didn't give me any praise, so what's up with that change in attitude!?

[Edelgard getting close after dealing with the Golden Deer]

エーデルガルト: 隙のない見事な用兵ね、先生。こうなったら、正面から当たるしかない！▼

Edelgard: You really are a peerless mercenary, Professor. In that case, I'll have to strike from the front!

[Byleth vs. Edelgard]

エーデルガルト: 何においても貴方を倒さないと、勝利はなさそうね。行くわよ！▼

Edelgard: It seems no matter what, there can be no victory without defeating you. Let's go!

[Dimitri vs. Edelgard]

エーデルガルト: ディミトリ、勝負よ。ここで優劣を決しておくのも悪くないわ。▼

Edelgard: Face me, Dimitri. No harm in testing our mettle here.

ディミトリ: ……いいだろう、受けて立つ。君が相手であろうと、手加減はしない。▼

Dimitri: … Very well, I accept. I can't hold back with you as my opponent.

エーデルガルト: そうこなくてはね！▼

Edelgard: That's the spirit!

[Defeating Edelgard with other Black Eagles still around]

エーデルガルト: 私を撤退に追い込むなんて……。厳しくなりそうだけど、頑張って。▼

Edelgard: To think I'd be forced to retreat... Things might seem bleak, but do your best.

[Defeating Edelgard after the other Black Eagles]

エーデルガルト: そんな…黒鷲の学級アドラークラッセが、こんなあっさり負けるなんて…▼

Edelgard: No way... the members of the Black Eagles shouldn't have been defeated so easily...

[Defeating Manuela]

マヌエラ: やるじゃない。これ以上、無理をしたらあたくしが医務室のお世話になっちゃうわ。▼

Manuela: Now wasn't that something. If I push it anymore, I might be in need of the infirmary.

(if Hannemann is still around)

ハンネマン: マヌエラ君を退けたか。我輩も心してかかるとしよう。▼

Hanneman: You took out Manuela? I should be carefull myself...

[After winning]

ジェラルト: よーし、そこまでだ！今回の模擬戦の勝者は……！青獅子の学級ルーヴェンクラッセだな！▼

Jeralt: All right, that's enough! The winners of todays battle... are the Blue Lions!

ディミトリ: この勝利は皆の活躍あってこそだ。ありがとう、よくやってくれた。▼

Dimitri: This victory was achieved by all of us. Thank you, you did well.

[After the battle]

ディミトリ: ……先生！ここにいたのか。捜したんだぞ。▼ 今日は、みんなで食事にしようと思って。反省会を兼ねた、祝勝会だな。▼

Dimitri: … Professor! This is where you were. We've been looking for you. ▼ We thought we should all go to the dining hall to eat something. A victory feast to serve as our debriefing, basically. ▼

[選択:祝勝会？]

[Choose: A victory feast?]

ディミトリ: ああ。ほら、あれだけ戦ったんだし、腹も減るだろ？▼

Dimitri: Yeah. Come now, you must be hungry after all that fighting, right?

[選択: 自分も？ ]

[Choose: Me too?]

ディミトリ: 当たり前だろ。今更、何を言ってるんだ。

Dimitri: Of course. What have I been telling you so far?

[Continuing]

シルヴァン: ほら先生、早く来てくださいよ。今日の殊勲者がいなきゃ、始まりませんって。▼

Sylvain: Hey professor, just hurry up and come. We can't well start without the most distinguished of us.

アネット: そうですよ！　私たちが勝てたのは、先生のおかげじゃないですかっ。▼

Annette: That's right! We only won thanks to you, professor.

フェリクス: ……そこの、正攻法しか知らん猪よりは、幾分かまともな用兵だった。▼

Felix: … Compared to that boar, who knows nothing but frontal attacks, your tactics were somewhat decent.

イングリット: フェリクス。あなたは本当に、隙あらば殿下に因縁をつけて……。▼

Ingrid: Felix! You’re really trying to pick a fight with his highness at every opportunity...

Bit less of a direct reprimand than in English

ディミトリ: いや、いいんだ、イングリット。事実、先生の采配は見事だった。▼

Dimitri: No, it's fine Ingrid. Our professor's orders truly were amazing.

Lacks the line about encouraging to speak freely.

メルセデス: ……それにしても今日は疲れちゃったわね。私、お腹が減ってもう駄目かも……。▼

Mercedes: Either way, today was really tiring. I seem to also be quite famished...

アッシュ: あはは……実は、僕もです。そろそろ食堂に行きましょうか。▼

Ashe: Hahaha, me too, to tell the truth. Let's go to the dining hall already.

ディミトリ: ……なあ、先生。あまり、嬉しくはなさそうだな。▼

Dimitri: … Hey, Professor. You dont seem very happy.

[選択: そんなことはないが……]

[Choose: That's not the case...]

ディミトリ: そう言う割には、眉一つ動かさないから。▼

Dimitri: Even as you say that, your eyebrows aren't moving an inch.

Sounds a bit weird, but that’s how he puts it. Aka, you are as expressionless as always.

[選択: よくわからない……]

[Choose: I don't understand...]

ディミトリ: ……まあ、無理もないか。▼

Dimitri: ... Well, I guess it’s understandable.

[Continuing]

ディミトリ: 先生。俺たちはまだ出会ったばかりだし、難しいのかもしれないが……▼ 俺は、先生とも喜びを分かち合いたい。折角、こうして一緒にいるんだからな。▼ きっと、それはみんなも同じだと思う。 ……ほら、一緒に行こう、先生！▼

Dimitri: Professor, we've only just met, so this might be a bit difficult... ▼ I want us to share in each other’s joy. After all, we're finally here together like this. ▼ I am sure the others feel the same. … Okay, let us go together, Professor. ▼

#nanigma translates #3H #blue lions

25 notes · View notes

tiliamericana · 4 years ago

Text

Muay Thai: 1.04

Read From Start | Read Ahead | Home Site

It was amazing just how quickly Nairi got used to waking up and finding texts from Cherry waiting for her.

Cherry seemed to be up and on at all hours of the day; she was awake in the morning well before Nairi’s eleven o’clock alarm, but also worked well into the small hours of the night and put in long hours at the day job. Nairi had managed to ascertain that it had something to do with art—Cherry had strong opinions on grades of paper (something about absorbency), colour theory (people were stupid), watercolours (they were bad), and on the one occasion she’d come upstairs had informed Nairi that her walls were driving her mad and that she’d be painting something to stop the encroaching insanity.

When she wasn’t inserting herself into Nairi’s life she was sending Nairi pictures and selfies with her other friends; grad students with brightly coloured hair, a grinning bartender showing off his flair, baking with a short woman in glasses. And now this:

C: youre closed on tues y/y?? C: which means yourf free tonight right?

Nairi sent her back a quick “yes” and set her phone down before pulling herself out of bed to face the day. Not opening the dojo meant she was able to take a little longer with her morning, but she still preferred to do her prayers before she had to think about anything else, and Cherry was prone to showing up if Nairi indicated she had free time. Which she apparently had a lot more of than she realised.

Maybe she should look for a new style to start training in. This was the first time she hadn’t been focused on a new one since she… Well, for a while.

When she came back upstairs her phone was lit up again. Maybe Cherry had ideas about lunch? It would mean she’d have a reason to go out and eat something.

C: great!! C: dn you wanna come out tonight?? dinner C: on me if i need to sweeten it ;) edies just moved back fr work and if its just me her and nick im go6na die from them being old folks who disapprove all night C: also i keep talking about you at nick and he wants to meet you lol

Nairi had initially assumed ‘Nick’ was Cherry’s father, just based on the way she talked about him. But then Cherry had mentioned her father later, just calling him ‘Dad’, so maybe he wasn’t? Either that, or she was very discreet about their being gay. Or she just went back and forth between ‘Dad’ and ‘Nick’ arbitrarily. ‘Edie’ on the other hand was a name Cherry had mentioned in passing once and then never again, so Nairi had concluded she was one of the colourful grad students. Apparently not.

She sent back a “sure”, and then after a moment, asked for a place and time.

C: yay!! thank you!! C: its this fckn italian place edie loves but theres a ok bar so not all bad C: edies fatal allergic to being on time but nickll be 7 minutes early

The next message was a sticker, a little pair of eyes rolling across her phone screen when she opened it.

C: meet at 7? C: i checked the menu has good veg C: pasta heavy but good :p

Nairi smiled a little at that and sent her another “yes”. After a moment she added a “thank you”. Cherry sent her back three hearts, and Nairi put her phone down to go and get some lunch.

She didn’t think anything of it until she showed up at the restaurant. Cherry had driven and was already parked, leaning against the side of her obnoxious little two door to wait. It was bright red and nearly vintage, and she’d obviously put a lot of care into it. Nairi had half expected vanity plates, but they were a normal registration.

Nairi waved as she approached and Cherry visibly perked up with a wide, glossy smile, waving back. Cherry had dressed up a little nicer—dark skinny jeans and a pretty sleeveless shirt with a modest v-neck. The heavy Docs were gone, traded for heeled ankle boots, and she had delicate pearl bob earrings to match her golden cross. Not a paint spatter in sight.

“Hi,” she said as Nairi drew to a halt just out of arm’s reach. “Didn’t we pick an interesting night to go out?”

“We sure did,” said Nairi, her brow furrowing as she looked past Cherry to the road between them and the restaurant. “What the hell is going on?”

The stretch of asphalt was filled with a flock of young adults, all of them shirtless, yelling along together in an incomprehensible chant as they ran up and down between two unmarked points on the road. They were arguably being directed; a young woman with a reflective coat and a manic grin, holding a megaphone in one hand and an airhorn in the other, was standing on a shopping cart in the middle. Standing next to her on the ground, was another woman in reflective orange with a clipboard.

Judging by the amount of honking and the lack of anything resembling city signage, this wasn’t an official event.

Cherry glanced down at her phone as one of the women held up the airhorn to the megaphone. Charitably she waited for Nairi’s ears to stop ringing before she spoke. “Flo did a round on the facebook pages—apparently it’s some dorm flash mob from a hall at her college.”

“Which one’s Flo? Did she have the blue hair?” asked Nairi as she lowered her hands from her head and gladly pulled her attention away from a panting eighteen-year-old who had something pink painted on his heaving chest.

“Nah that’s Mason, he’s finishing up his sociology honours. Flo has the green hair, she’s doing her psych PhD,” said Cherry, craning her neck to look around Nairi. “Nick’s here! Right on time, like I said.”

She started waving, and Nairi turned to see the tallest man she’d ever seen waving back across at them. She raised an eyebrow, the muscles in her forearms tensing, and she tried not to feel too uneasy about it.

Cherry hummed happily, picking herself up from where she was leaning on the car door and reaching in through the open window to grab a thin cardigan from the seat. “Oh, and just a heads up,” she said casually, “Nick like, really hates it when people call me Cherry, it’ll probably be better if you just use my real name in front of him.”

Nairi opened her mouth to remind her that she’d never actually gotten around to saying what the was exactly, but Cherry was already halfway across the lot towards the man. “Nick!” she called out as she approached, closing the distance and leaning up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

He said something to her, pausing to hug her back before continuing over to Nairi. He drew to a halt next to her while Cherry returned to perching against her car. “You must be Nairi,” he said, voice alarmingly deep, hand outstretched. “Linden’s told me so much about you.”

Nairi took his hand and shook it once before dropping it, resisting the urge to take a step back once she’d done so. “Likewise. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Nicholas was close to seven feet tall and probably in his late fifties or very early sixties if she was any judge. His hair had landed firmly in the ‘grey’ zone just past salt-and-pepper, though he’d managed to keep rather a lot of it, close cropped in a very standard short back and sides. He had broad shoulders and a carefully ironed shirt that looked worn but cared for. He had a firm grip, muscle swelling ever so slightly in the lines of his shirt, and there was a furrow in his brow that made him look deeply concerned about something.

Though, from what she’d learned being friends with Cherry—Linden—if she were an older adult in her life she’d probably be deeply concerned as well. Or maybe it was the students.

“Do either of you know what’s going on here?” he asked after a moment, nodding at the crowd.

“Youthful hijinks keeping us from our dinner,” said Linden, grinning easily. She’d released some of the tension in her shoulders since Nicholas’s arrival, but at the same time seemed a little more on edge, like she was anticipating something. She took a deep, exaggerated breath, and pushed her hands into her jean pockets. “Do you know what that smell is?”

Nairi exchanged a faintly puzzled look with Nicholas, though his looked a little more exasperated. “Cheap beer?” she tried.

Linden sniggered. “Yeah, we called it ‘Eau de Freshie’ when I was in school,” she said, tossing her head to give the students behind them a speculative, almost mean look. They were still yelling enthusiastically, and she gestured at them. “It’s no longer funny, anyway. How many of these assholes do you reckon I have to beat up to let us get through?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t need to come to that,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching a little at the side.

Nicholas shot her a grateful look. “From the looks of things someone has already called the police, I’m sure they’ll be dispersed presently,” he said with a nod towards a pissed off looking woman standing by the crosswalk, phone jammed up against her ear.

“The cops always take fucking forever,” complained Linden, running a hand through her hair, foot tapping impatiently. “Come on Nick, you actually like, made a reservation and now we’re gonna miss it.”

“Linden I’m reasonably certain the staff can see what’s happening from where they’re standing,” said Nicholas, irritation creeping into his tone. “A little patience will not kill you, please do not start a fistfight with a teenager.”

Linden grinned at him, stretching her arms out in front of her chest. “I’m like, pretty certain the one with the airhorn is at least twenty.”

“Linden.”

“Well, I mean,” said Nairi speculatively, eyeing the students. “All you really have to do is be flashier than them.”

One of the running students fell out of pitch with their friends, and someone complained in her peripheral. A car door slammed and there was the crunch of footsteps on gravel followed by a huff as someone else joined the spectators. Linden turned her grin back to Nairi. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, stepping up to Linden and reaching past her into the car window.

The other items she wanted were on the front seat, and Linden’s grin only widened as Nairi pulled them out. The baseball bat was wooden and well used, with a long crack threatening to split it clean open and letter stickers in the world’s ugliest font spelling ‘LINDE’ down the length. There was a clean spot amongst the built-up grime under the ‘E’. The bottle of lighter fluid was about half full, and Nairi held the bat out in front of her to squirt the contents over it liberally, splattering the asphalt in front of them as she did so.

She reached around Linden, extending the same familiarity she’d been receiving from her for the last two weeks, and pulled the lighter out of her back pocket.

The bat lit up easily and Nairi twisted it around to hold it upright, offering it to Linden. Linden looked at her, wide eyed, and took the bat. She placed her other hand on Nairi’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You get me,” she said with warmth, before throwing her head back and cackling loudly, sprinting towards the crowd of students with the bat raised over her head.

Nicholas, next to her, made a faint, strangled noise. Behind her was a scoff and a loud voice. “Well. I’m guessing you must be Nairi.”

She turned and came face to face with an older woman in a rumpled men’s dress shirt and glasses who was glaring at her. She had red hair, natural as opposed to Linden’s box dye, and it was plaited out of the way to keep her tired face clear. Grey blue eyes stared down Nairi under her stern brow, and she uncrossed her arms to step forward into Nairi’s personal space. She was stocky and only a little shorter, barely having to raise her chin. “Just for reference,” she said, tone acerbic, “If I hear a single piece of news about young adult burn victims in the local urgent care facilities tomorrow? I will track you down and hold you personally responsible.”

She stepped away without waiting for an answer, glare sliding over to Nicholas. “You’re so right, Nicholas, I can see how much of a model presence she is,” she said in a way that even Nairi could read the sarcasm. “You remain a uniquely terrible judge of character.”

She strode across the street in the wake of Linden’s chaos. The students had mostly scattered with cheers and yells, and the girl with the megaphone was doubled over laughing in her shopping cart.

Nicholas was very slowly turning red, staring at Nairi with an unreadable expression. She coughed slightly and spun on one foot to follow the others across the street, trying to swallow her irritation at their judgement.

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #104 #lgbt fiction

2 notes · View notes