#001. ╱ in character. goddamn blaze in the dark.

[thousandflame]

she let go of her hair before she moved---somewhat away from him, towards a little hill. her left hand was twitching, little flames were taking form for split seconds before she extinguished them again. there was not much point to her fire, right now. there was nothing for her to aim it had. and almost, she would have called that ironic. fighting fellow humans had never been something she had enjoyed; it had been a necessary evil, especially back in the days of the cults, but when that had started, she had looked at the skies and asked them for a favour---that she would never get used to it. and that one time, she had gotten what she had asked for.

she had never gotten used to violence.

if she wanted to be mean to her former guildmaster, she might wonder if the ever decreasing age at which the members of his guild went on their first jobs was so that they could not develop the emotional maturity to realise that getting too used to violence was hardly a good thing, but that would mean that rather than accidentally endangering children, makarov was doing this all on purpose, fully aware of what he was doing. she somewhat doubted that he was callous, but---who knows.

'' i am somewhat relieved that we seem to still be in fiore, if in a folded-up-and-twisted-around version of it, '' she said as she crossed her arms over her chest, red eyes inspecting the scenery that surrounded her. '' it means we might have been lucky enough that the icebergian glaciers are not a thing anyone will have to contend with, on top of the invasion. '' hearing his request, she smiled thinly as she looked at him once more. '' all the luck i ask for is enough to get through this, though i'd hardly mind any extras. ''

his eyebrow raised at her strange behavior but swiftly, even before she elaborated more — he recognized her. she was rob's neice. the little girl with the lavender flame, the apple of rob's eyes. the last he really interacted with her was from afar and it was basic 'i'm sorry for your loss' fruit basket when rob's death was confirmed. it was a tragedy. a needless one, if you ask ivan. the council could have officially gotten involved if it wasn't for —. well. no need to dwell on that now. it's not like the council is the end all be all of competence either, look where they are now.

ivan shrugged. "i haven't figured that out yet, i would guess central fiore from the mountains, but it seems everything got rearranged. i'd need to set about making a map truly guess. fiore is a peninsula, so ideally we could pick a direction and see when we find the ocean." truly, he was more concerned with the more immediate. how much did this spell affect underground places?

at her reference to THAT MAN, ivan's face soured and he looked away, stalking ahead to not catch up with her, truly, but to continue his path. "do me a favor and do not remind me of that man at the moment. if i'm lucky, he's been literally crushed by his own hubris by now, but he's a bit like a COCKROACH and i'm not lucky."

[thousandflame]

the sound of her footsteps was swallowed by the soft forest floor, but she was quite distracted herself---going to visit her uncle's 'grave' was never an easy walk, but it was one she took now and then. it was what he deserved, as far as she was concerned. she never knew what to expect, this close to magnolia, but this---this was something she had most certainly not expected at all.

'' ---is that really you, ivan? ''

@reivun

[thousandflame]

❝ Looks like you won. ❞

our muses are sparring and my muse ends up on top of yours, pinning them down. send me  ❝ looks like you won. ❞ for my muse’s reaction.

though not exactly tall, cymbeline was tougher than a lot of people gave her credit for---and it was not just speed and agility that she could us to twist things to her advantage. she had been s-class for a reason. there were some people for whom ignoring her abilities had ended with a stint in jail, especially back when she had been a rune knight, but logan was at no risk of that. what he was, possibly, at risk of was bruised ribs, as she really was not exactly going easy on him.

come to think of it, she should perhaps reconsider the amount of pressure she was applying, he might be attached to his ribs. most people were.

she exhaled, shifting her weight away from his chest. the expression of smugness that had found its way to her face, on the other hand, remained where it was. she did have a bit of a competitive streak, it was just not often that she got to live it. it was . . . calming, the knowledge that she had a friend who understood that sometimes, a good spar could offer more relaxation than a spa day.

'' thanks, logan, '' she said as she rolled back onto her heels and back into a stand, redoing her ponytail as it had come partially undone during their spar. '' another round? ''

[thousandflame]

there she was again. her life seemed to be rather . . . cyclic in nature, as of late, and cymbeline could not say that she cared for that, very much. magnolia forest. it had been a place she had liked, once. happy memories had used the forest as their stage, a long time ago. she had followed her uncle like a duckling followed its mother, always minding her steps as they made their way from the city to the little cottage where his friend lived. it was a strange thought, to think that porlyusica was still there while her uncle was gone.

but just like then, she minded her steps as she wandered through the forest. she had---a bit of time before her next train would come, before she would be able to leave magnolia in the past, where it belonged. this was all just to soothe the curiosity she could never win against. she just wanted to see if it was still the way she remembered it all.

starter for shadowqueens

[thousandflame]

cymbeline remained quiet as she studied logan for a few beats. she had heard about what had happened with the young god slayer. she had heard a lot, more than she had wanted to. absentmindedly, she let go of her cup and allowed her hand to cover the side of her body---just for a moment, just to reassure herself that the bleeding had stopped. it had. it had stopped not long after the injury had occured; she had gotten lucky, she had been told, but the truth was that she had never felt lucky.

the story of her life simply was not one that could possibly belong to a lucky person.

she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. '' i'll be frank---i have sometimes thought about rejoining guild life, '' she admitted. it had not all been bad, and she was (by now) mature enough to admit this. it was simply . . . she sometimes wished that life would have been black and white, that would make it easier to indulge in anger. to remember the not-bad times made her feel like she was a fraud for her resentment that lived deep in her heart and soul.

she supposed that logan would understand the difficulties. the complications that came with the way how good and bad memories were simply inseparable when it came to their former guild. she had seen some of her worst days in magnolia, yes, but it had not all been horrible.

'' neil . . . '' she pondered the name for a moment, then for another. she could swear that she had heard some vague gossip about him, but no matter how much she tried, she could not quite piece it all together. a shame. a real shame. she liked knowing what was going on, what was being implied. '' ---you say he antagonises everyone? does that include you? ''

If little else, he was glad that his oldest friend remains in one piece - at least in the flesh. The soul is another matter entirely. 

They were not kids anymore and even then, they had not been whole. 

“An agency?” He raises a brow, intrigued by the idea. “It’s clever. How many mages are out traveling, taking jobs independently? I’d imagine it’s quite a lot.” 

But hearing that she’d decided against it, he furrows his brows, curious. “Well… If you change your mind, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work out for you. You’re smart, firefly.”

Indeed he had been busy… In hindsight, he wishes he’d spent more time focusing on rebuilding as opposed to staring at star charts until he beat them to death, obsessing over hypotheticals that would never matter, because what’s done is done. 

Not recommended in an astrologer’s practice, but Logan’s need for answers often overpowers his better judgment. 

Once they’re seated ( by a window, where the snow-capped trees dominate the view ), Logan taps a finger against the lid of his coffee. 

“Lamia is… Well, everyone is doing their best. You’ve probably heard, but during the war, our Chelia lost her magic entirely. There are no words for having an entire future that you’ve envisioned, crumble in front of you.”

Logan knows the feeling far too intimately.

“But, on a lighter note… We do have a new face around. Sherry is overseeing one of Crime Sorciere’s people. She’s not trouble, though. I have to be honest, I expected worse to come from it. Our fire mage, Neil, gives her a real dirty look sometimes. But then again, it’s hard to find a person that he doesn’t antagonize.” He explains. As he raises his cup to his lips, he barely stifles a chuckle. “If you’re that bored, you should consider joining Lamia Scale. Master Ooba would like you.” 

The instant that the words leave his lips, Logan breaks eye contact with Cymbeline. The curse. He forgot about Lamia’s curse, gods be damned. His heart drops to his stomach - but at the very least, he’s careful not to display it in the form of body-language.

Depending on Cymbeline’s response, he’d have to triple-check her star-chart… Just to ensure that he can rule out ‘horrendous death’. He’d never wanted to look for potential death in the charts of any of his loved ones, but he’ll have to make an exception once he’s alone.

[thousandflame]

❝ Looks like you won. ❞ - reivun

our muses are sparring and my muse ends up on top of yours, pinning them down. send me  ❝ looks like you won. ❞ for my muse’s reaction.

Usually, Ivan almost towered above her.

He was not outstandingly tall, but her own height was just about average. But as the saying went---the taller they are, the harder they fall. And from what she could recall, she did not remember him ever having been known for his prowess in hand-to-hand. Still, it had not been easy to put him on the mat. The mage business was one where only the skilled and powerful lasted long---and much like him, she had lasted. And Cymbeline had always believed in 'credit where credit is due'. It was due here, and she could admit that.

Looking down at him, Cymbeline smiled and the edges of her smile were dipped in subtle smugness. Like most people she knew, she enjoyed winning. It had been hardwon, she could admit that much as she was also not exactly an expert at hand-to-hand combat. Jasper (forever twenty-five, forever laughing proudly in her memory) had been and he had needled her to improve, and that thought still broke her heart a little sometimes.

At least she did not feel the need to cry about the memory of her team this time.

She lifted one hand to brush hair out of her face, letting go of the wrist that she had previously pinned to the mat. Her vision no longer obscured, she regarded Ivan, trying to read his face. That had always been difficult---he was someone who kept all his cards close to his chest. He was near unreadable now, too, despite his dishevelled state. But---she supposed that she had gotten used to it by now.

@reivun

[thousandflame]

HER LEFT ARM SOMETIMES FELT BARE.  there was an empty spot where her guild mark had been, a bit ago. well, calling it a bit ago was to grossly misrepresent the facts. she had been unaffliated for longer than she ever been with the guild. it was . . . well. it was what it was. she adjusted her sleeve and returned her gaze to vito. they had not caught up in a bit, but she was happy to change this.

'' i still have the amethyst bird you gifted me for my birthday, back in the day. '' she smiled as she propped up her arm and rested her chin against her palm. '' i fortunately had it in my requip bubble when my apartment was destroyed. ''

@fulgorcrwned

[thousandflame]

“My hobbies include knowing and being right.”

A PALE EYEBROW (SHE WOULD HAVE TO DYE THEM AGAIN, SOON) ARCHED GRACEFULLY.  to an extent, limited by her own experiences, she understood. she could not fully grasp it, she had always been an outsider, looking at the feud from a distance, but she had had her own experiences that painted pictures she did not like. what kind of person told a young woman who had lost her last family member that a guild---an organisation that should consist of adults that shared the same profession---was a good replacement? she had been furious and heartbroken when her friends had not come back from their assignment. she had grown resentful when she had been pushed to be social in a time when she had needed space for herself.

her old guildmaster, she thought, had never been good with boundaries.

and she had been too young, too blind to see just how much of an issue that was. she should have caught on when he had excommunicated his own son under strange circumstances that had been kept all hushed up. she should have known. she should have known. but she had wanted to believe in the cause her uncle had cared about so much. despite what people thought, she had never been angry that her uncle had died to protect kids. that had been . . . he had been a good man. this kind of thing was something good men did.

no. the circumstances leading up to his death were what she had taken issue with. 

sighing, she smiled just a tiny bit at ivan. she was not angry at him, she could separate children from their parents in her mind. '' you never told me to be careful, '' she said, and bitterness was all she could taste, all she could feel. '' but i wish i had listened. ''

[thousandflame]

twin pools of scarlet disappeared amidst snow as cymbeline closed her eyes. there it was. the somewhat dreaded question---what she would have liked to be different. what she would have liked to be changed. those who had been lost had been beyond anyone's grasp, but---their memory had not been. it was a dreaded question because the answer was so easy, because it was not hard to put into words.

she did not have to see, she knew that lilac blossoms of fire were sprouting along the gaps between her fingers, like snowdrops poking through sheets of snow. '' they say, forgetting is the truest form of death, '' she eventually said slowly, twisting her ring around her little finger. '' i was . . . grieving, and i felt pushed towards . . . moving on, towards pretending my heart wasn't dead in the ground alongside my dearest friends, alongside my uncle. at some point, there was an argument about a fantasia float, i declined to participate. apparently, this meant i wasn't a team player. ''

she paused, her face scrunching up---the words tasted as sour now as they had all those years ago. it was impressive, almost, how some pains lingered. she should be over this specific old ache, but it seemed that it had thorns that had dug deep into the parts of her that were soft and vulnerable. '' it was phrased a little more hurtful, of course, '' she went on, her voice succeeding in a pivot on a tightrope---bitterness was easier to stomach than grief. '' apparently, not inviting a semi-stranger into a tradition i had with my dead uncle meant i didn't want to be part of the family. and you know what? he was right. i did not. because at the end of the day, being in the guild should've been a job. ''

cymbeline looked calm and not at all surprised by the question which he didn't know quite what to do with. perhaps it was a calm before the storm situation. for someone like himself who was long used to storms, it created a sense of inner confidence. he felt more sure now than ever that what was happening would be good. with the permission granted, his pen hit the paper as she spoke.

the pen stopped the moment she mentioned the cults. he remembered that time. he remembered how many were lost. and yes, rob was one of them. one of many ghosts in laxus' memory now — how many afternoons did he spend with that old man? sick & healthy. he still remembered the way the old man smelled, every time he camped he thought of him.

laxus nodded at cymbeline. his eyebrows knitted as a frown formed on his face. "i am sorry for your losses. i don't imagine they were the easiest to deal with in such a short timespan." his tone was softer than one would expect. laxus had felt loss in his life though, who hasn't? it was was easy to extend a simple kindness, a show of sympathy. in the aftermath of death, came sympathy. at the very least. and for some, vindication.

"do you mind elaborating on the guild leadership?" makarov was the real term to use, but to do so felt wrong. akin to taking a bandage off too soon, peeling of the scabs. at least, for laxus. he was not quite yet in that part of the storm yet. "specifically, which decisions or lack thereof in the aftermath did you take issue with? and, well, do you still take issue with them?" he needed to know. his picked his pen up and wrote a few more shared details he missed and waited.

[thousandflame]

❛ But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me ❜ - wendy c :

CYMBELINE REGARDED THE GIRL FOR A MOMENT, THEN SHE NODDED. there was no need to make things messy for others, to drag someone else into the chaos that was her mind right now. still, the truth was: few things were okay with her right now. it was a messy time, the aftermath of the war. everything was chaotic. things that had been set in stone, rules that had always applied---it all had eroded. it was a . . . difficult time. people were dead. houses were destroyed. everything was wrong.

'' we cannot undo what has happened. '' a hard lesson. cymbeline had learnt it when she had been young, but she still did not want others to learn it as young. childhood was supposed to be a perfect dream. it was not supposed to be shattered by the folly of men. we need to accept reality, even if we cannot accept what led us there. this would have been her addition, would she know the girl better. but she did not. and cymbeline always kept a few cards close to her chest. it had once made her a great mage, her instinct for when to speak and when to remain quiet.

she sighed, massaging her temples. '' we can only work to make things fully okay again, '' she added quietly.

[thousandflame]

tag drop.

[thousandflame]

THE LIGHT BREEZE WAS MOST WELCOME.  cymbeline was seated on the little railing and gazed at the small river that lazily wove itself through its bed beneath her. now and then, petals and little branches were pulled along---a metaphor for how people either moved along with life or change would drag them despite their misgivings. ah. she was feeling poetic again. she never really knew what to do with herself when she got like this.

starter for @fairybond

[thousandflame]

she had not known what to expect, but curiosity was a powerful motivator, and she had been all too eager to find out what it was that was troubling the dragon slayer to the point where he felt it necessary to ask her. now that the question was on the table, still slightly hidden but taking shape nevertheless, she felt a great many things. the most prominent emotion was not confusion but rather the exact opposite---things felt like they were clicking in place. there were some notions of surprise, but for the most part, all she felt was . . . compassion.

twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she hummed to herself as she forced herself to find her inner centre. luc had been better at this, in days long gone. she was trying still to achieve the mastery about this, the ability to be perfectly calm, to be serene like a frozen lake. she had gotten better at not boiling over too quickly, but mastery was still out of reach. it was still relatively easy to maintain a straight face; she had worked for the council, she knew how to hide her emotions.

and smugness was certainly out of place, right now, even if she felt it dwelling up inside her.

'' i prefer to skip unnecessary frills when it comes to this topic, and i don't mind you writing it all down---it's not like any of this cannot be pieced together by people who have the puzzle pieces, '' she said as she looked up from her cup and allowed her eyes to rest solely on laxus, fully ignoring everything and everyone else around them. '' i was sixteen when i joined the guild, and it was pretty good at first. i made friends, i sometimes got to work with my uncle on jobs that were a bit tricky but not too dangerous so that i could gather experience. but then . . . i lost my team and my uncle---my last remaining family---to the zeref cult . . . troubles. now, i am not blaming anyone but the people who actually killed them for their deaths, but i did not agree with . . . guild leadership about how the aftermath was handled. '' she paused, her gaze now inspecting the skies above them. '' i lost people very dear to me, there was no way i could have just . . . replaced them. ''

laxus shrugged just a bit. apparently, at the ripe of twenty-six, he was still considered too young for people. that was actually refreshing as sometimes he was paired with seventeen year old and THAT always made him uncomfortable. and old. he was informed that for women, twenty six is hag age which truly felt unfair to him. only women were called hags. and other than old man or gramps, he can't think of a term for older men. hm. he should ask freed about that.

"i'm almost certain they wouldn't go the mother route, i'm too old for that." laxus told her. she was what? thirty something? she would have to have been like twelve or something and the mere thought made his stomach roll. he shook his head of the thoughts and waived down the water for a black coffee as cymbeline roberts cut right to the chase.

"you're right. i am not the most social person." that had been his status quo for years now. he wondered if that was always true, he could vaguely remember happily talking to the other kids of the guilds when they first started petering in. especially when he was the only other kid around, but that had lost its appeal somewhere along the way. he was often, at school, makarov dreyar's grandkid and then at the guild, the master's grandkid. he breathed out, trying to get his words together.

and then he got his coffee and immediately took a gulp. he'd need it to get through this. "i don't want to —" he almost said bother, but that word felt dirty now, "disturb you for too long. "i wanted...to understand more about your experience in fairy tail, if possible. and for permission to record these things down in my journal. i can do the first thing without the other."

testimonials from others would definitely better his perspective.

[thousandflame]

she had questions. she had many questions, but cymbeline had always believed in tap---time and place. everything had a time and a place, and her questions, while surely justified, did not need to be answered yet. she could be patient, she had always been an atypical fire mage in that specific regard.

still, she could not help herself---her gaze left ivan and focused on the girl. she seemed frightfully young, but at the very least, there was no guild mark on her. it should not surprise her, ivan had said that his mother was looking after the girl. and in another lifetime, cymbeline's uncle had implied that porlyusica was not the biggest fan of the amount of children in the guild.

'' ---not the strangest thing i've seen all week, actually, '' she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. '' i can leave and pretend we never met, if you'd like. ''

he should have been paying more attention was his inner chastisement but who could blame him? the young wendy was determined to nap under a tree of all places and he just spent the last few moments convincing a chipmunk to go the other way (peacefully). he readied himself for anything but not this.

he recognized her. and where she was made a sick sort of sense. he put a finger over his lips and gestured with his head the napping child. quietly, he said, "yes and i understand this is strange, cymbeline, but wendy insisted on this nap spot." he stood slowly from his chipmunk perch. "my mother is her current caretaker."

[thousandflame]

BACK IN THE DAY, CYMBELINE HAD BEEN THE YOUNGEST ON HER TEAM. the baby. she remembered the last time that jasper had poked her (at the time) slightly chubby cheeks and called her adorable a bit too well, sometimes. she still . . . was the youngest now. she had not stopped being the youngest, just because some had stopped aging in death. in her mind, lydia and the others would always be half a step ahead of her. love was a strange wound. she was not sure if she ever wanted it to heal.

it was strange. she had gone for years without thinking too much of those she had lost, but then---the war. a war had always been what lyds had been worried about. it was not hard to realise why her old friend's shadow had walked beside her again when fiore had been headed for war, just like it was obvious why it was gone again now. lydia had always wanted her to walk in the present, not in the past.

inclining her head towards logan, she smiled, gently, as she squeezed his arm a little. much had been said about small gestures and long ways. in her experience, there was truth to that. '' well, '' she began, '' i am in the middle of figuring out what i want to do with my time. i was thinking about organising a freelancer agency, y'know, for mages who have normal lives but still like the occasional bit of mage work, but i don't think i'll go through with that, in the end. ''

there had been some concern on her part how she would even go about setting up something like that legally and with the changes that were bound to happen (because nothing ever stayed the same, everything was always in motion), she was rather certain that the legal consultation she had paid for before everything had gone to hell was fairly useless to her now. it was fine. she would figure something else out.

'' i think everyone has been busy, lately. i know i have been. so i will not hold it against you. '' she smiled, a little brighter this time. '' let me get myself a hot beverage and then, you can tell me what's been going on among the serpents. ''

Logan gives her a firm hug, almost as if he’d forgotten that she was tangible. Perhaps the others had a point: he was isolating a bit much. Noted, he thinks to himself. It can’t be good for his health. It had started off as a form of self-care. He quickly found that, in the face of sudden and devastating loss, he really couldn’t stand people constantly offering him comfort. 

Not that he didn’t appreciate the thoughtfulness. He simply… Wanted to make an attempt at taking his mind off of Eleanor’s absence. The constant support only served to remind him of his very agonizing loss.

“The time has passed… Quickly, and yet not quick enough. I’m sorry that I haven’t written or called.” He’s straight to the point, as usual, but he wastes no further time before opening the door for her.

“They have your beloved macchiatos, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, through a chuckle. “And, uh, lattes. ‘Best to go with what you’re craving, though.” He suggests, walking inside behind her.

“And Cymbie─before you ask, no. I was not waiting for long.” He reassures her with a weak smile. It was, however, the first time he’d beat her to meeting.

“Well then, tell me - how have you been doing lately? What’s new?” 

[thousandflame]

USUALLY, CYMBELINE TENDED TO BE EARLY.  it was a leftover from the lessons on professionalism her uncle had once taught her, how it was important to respect the time others set aside for her by not making them wait. still, while she had been attempting to arrive five minutes early, things had not gone entirely according to plan (she had needed to find a new pair of tights after the first one had torn just as she had gotten ready to actually depart) and so, logan was already there, waiting for her in front of their meeting spot rather than inside. it was . . . mildly embarrassing, she would admit as much. but not as embarrassing as appearing to a hangout with torn clothes.

'' logan. '' she smiled brightly as she accepted the hug, mindful of his coffee. '' likewise---it's been entirely too long. ''

there had not been much time for spending time with friends, lately. there had been so much to do with the cleanup. and with the listening to rumours. if she had a vice, it would be schadenfreude. and things were not looking too well for someone she did not like very much.

red eyes looked over his shoulder and towards the café. '' is the coffee any good or should i play it safe and get some tea? '' she asked.

Logan had arrived just a few minutes earlier than the time they’d agreed on. His coffee is already in hand, but he hasn’t touched it yet.

He doesn’t mind waiting.

Not that it’s a long wait.

Despite it being the winter, and despite the very gentle snowfall, it isn’t cold. Not for him, anyway. Then again, he’d always been told that he’s a walking furnace, so that may have had something to do with it. Perhaps that is why he chooses to wait for Cymbeline outside of the cafe.

He focuses on the snowflakes melting against the lid of his drink for a while - up until he hears footsteps approach. He glances up, and smiles at a familiar face.

And right as the clock strikes one o’clock, too.

Her face really doesn’t change.

Instinctively, Logan’s arms spread wide, with the intent to embrace his old friend.

“Cymbie,” He murmurs, in place of a proper greeting. “It’s good to see you again.”

@thousandflame