#Beatrice’s stiffened spine!!

[nimzdekrken]

"some scars are just not mean't to be worshiped" Ava shrugs before she starightens up as she sits next to the tall girl.

"Take it off" a soothing voice coming from the former nun, Beatrice gestures towards the small girl to remove her top. Ava stares at her confused before she lowers her head while her fingers starts working on the buttons. Once it's all done, Beatrice shifts slowly behind the girl and starts working her fingers on the girls spine, Ava stiffens and gasps a little with the contact, Bea notices and hurriedly jerks boths her hands to hold her still and whispers, "it's alright darling" Beatrice moves her lips to kiss the nape of Ava's neck, Ava closes her eyes shut while the ring starts to glow ever so brightly. "I will worship them" Beatrice moves a little lower and kisses her scar, "I will worship your body with all the reverence in me" Beatrice shifts her left hand to hold the small girls' hand~ "you're beautiful Ava darling."

[birgittesilverbae]

They (whoever you’d like) celebrate Ava’s birthday, the year that she turns older than Shannon was? (Sorry this one’s sad)

Ava turns away from the bonfire and waits for her eyes to adjust before she scans the darkness of the beach. Mary's sitting in the sand down towards the curve of the shore, silhouetted in the moonlight. Ava works her hand free of Bea's, kisses the backs of her knuckles. "I'll be back in a bit," she promises.

Her back aches with the movement of standing and she takes a moment to bend double, to let gravity tug at her spine, raids the cooler for two of Bea's sparkling waters and trudges down the beach. Mary doesn't look up at her approach, just leans back on her hands and digs her feet into the sand. 

"Hey, kid," she says, almost soft enough to be swallowed by the low rumble of the waves.

"Hey." She settles down at Mary's side, places one of the drink cans near her hip. "How old do I have to be before you stop calling me that?"

Mary's body stiffens as though to a gut punch. "This old, probably," she admits, gaze still fixed out at sea. "Otherwise I'm going to start feeling like I'm calling Shan a kid, and that'd just be weird."

Ava wets her lips. "Is this–"

"You're older now than she ever was."

Ava nods, fiddles with the tab of her can. "When was her birthday?"

"She didn't take a new name when she joined, so she got St. Senan's patron day. March 8th."

"I meant her actual birthday?"

Mary's mouth goes lopsided. "The summer solstice," she admits quietly. "June 21st."

"Oh." Ava's shoulders fall, and she gnaws at her lip before continuing. "Is that… Is that what you and Bea were doing last week? Celebrating her birthday?"

"Beatrice didn't tell you?"

Ava shakes her head. "She said it wasn't her place."

Mary scoffs a little. "It's as much her place as mine," she replies, casting a glance towards the bonfire. "But yeah. We went back to Antequera. Back to the old Cat's Cradle." Her voice catches in her throat, and Ava reaches across the chasm between them, lays her hand beside Mary's. Mary grasps it, hangs on tight. "Sorry, Ava, I didn't mean to get all fucking emotional tonight."

"It's okay. Do you two do that every year?"

"All but the first after she– All but the first after she died. I went alone that year." 

Ava picks at the thread Mary's left hanging. "Because she was too busy mourning me?"

"Something like that." She squeezes Ava's hand. "I didn't begrudge her it then and I don't now, you know. I'm glad she's got you. I'm glad I didn't have to watch her turn into me."

"Turn into what, a badass?"

"Yeah, sure." Mary's teeth glint bright in the moonlight as she cracks a smile. "So glad I got to watch her turn into a lovesick softie instead."

[appleciders]

for ur little prompts: camila & lilith + teeth ?

🐝

For the second time since dying, Lilith walks into Cat’s Cradle. She finds stone walls; she finds echoed halls; she finds a sword, in a glass box.

In the last life, and this, and are they still playing at this? Good little Catholic soldiers, training to fight and die in a Holy War? Haven’t they learned anything from the cataclysmic clusterfuck of the Crusades? From the cataclysmic clusterfuck of a book and a millennium's worth of dead girls since?

Lilith has. Lilith questions, now. At least—she’s learning to. She's trying.

She hears soft, familiar footsteps in the doorway. Same weight distribution as Beatrice’s, different rhythm. “What are you doing back here.”

Lilith turns. “Camila,” she says. She eyes her. “You grew teeth.”

Camila stiffens, tips up her chin. “Lilith,” she parries, with that barbed, low tone of hers, the one that used to fit like a hand-me-down and now suits the angles of her face like a mold. “You grew scales.”

Lilith hasn’t seen Camila for two hundred days. “I did. Bit more than I bargained for, that.”

“Poor you.” Camila’s hand is on her crossbow. It’s pointed at Lilith’s face.

Lilith sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “I didn’t expect to see this,” she says. She nods at the windows, where hooded warriors move through forms in the courtyard below. “The OCS, back to blindly following tradition.”

“I don’t follow blindly. That was before, when I was always looking to you to tell me what to do. I don’t do that anymore.”

“Good,” Lilith says. She wishes Camila would look at her like that again, young and hanging on her every word. She’s so proud of her that she never will. “It was beneath you.”

“What do you want, Lilith.”

Lilith lets her fingers linger over the glass of the display case. She coveted that sword, once. “I saw Beatrice.”

“She told me.”

Lilith’s pupils constrict, reflexively; she sees the satisfaction in the curl of Camila’s lip. “She needs her water pressure fixed.”

“What do you want, Lilith.”

Lilith pauses, rolls her spine where the hidden folds of her wings press against it. She lets a breath out of her nose. She’s honest and earnest and all the more cruel for it when she says, “Quería verte.”

Something breaks between them, then. They have always spoken English to each other, always spoken in their second language despite sharing a first. They grew up seventeen kilometers apart.

“Vete,” Camila says. “Vete. Get out.”

“Camila–”

“Get out,” she spits. “You sided with the man who killed Mary. You helped him kill Ava. You know how I found Bea, after you left her? Do you care?”

Lilith looks at her.

“If,” Camila says, and it trembles. She swallows, her jaw working, and her next words come out low and cold, with a growl like a badger, “If you don’t leave, I’ll shoot.”

“I’ll be back,” says Lilith.

“Don’t."

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Playing the field

Playing the field https://ift.tt/jSyp431 by lovergalore A shiver runs up his spine. Every Tuesday from now on is going to be the death of him. Alex clears his throat, trying to shake off the tension stiffening his whole body. “Definitely room for improvement.” “I can teach you,” Henry offers, now facing him. He takes another sip out of his water bottle, his cheeks hollowed as he sucks. Alex feels lightheaded. “If you want, of course.” or, Nora convinces Alex to join a friendly six-a-side comp and of course, his crush from junior year, Henry Fox, is on their team. Words: 8619, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Nora Holleran, June Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Football | Soccer, Alternate Universe - College/University, Henry is football captain, Alex has a big fat crush, Misunderstandings, Fluff, One Shot, POV Alex Claremont-Diaz, Explicit Language via AO3 works tagged 'Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor' https://ift.tt/7UHqiC3 November 08, 2023 at 09:22PM

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

sigh no more

The crowd whistled its approval before gradually dispersing, and Mai sent him a lethal glare as she approached him. Zuko expected her to storm past, but instead she paused at his side, closing her eyes as her face became expressionless once more. “You always leave before it’s over,” she murmured. Their shoulders were almost touching. “I know you of old.”

And then she was gone.

Much Ado About Nothing AU, which coincidentally fell in line with Day 3: AU of @maikoweek! Hurray for a lovely happenstance. I did twist around a few aspects of the play to fit it better for Maiko/ATLA, but BxB was too good of a Maiko dynamic to pass up, even if Zuko is nowhere near as suave as Benedict, lmao. I really think Mai is a lot a like Beatrice, albeit with more deadpan, monotone sarcasm rather than high energy banter. I hope you enjoy these four Much Ado excerpts that I have Maiko-fied. :)

Read here on AO3! (Rated T; length is just under 5k.)

N.B. You don’t need to know anything about Much Ado About Nothing to read this fic! Bonus points if you’re familiar with the play, though. ;)

I.i.114-143

“I wonder why you’re still talking, Prince Zuko. No one is listening.”

Zuko’s shoulders stiffened at the familiar, dry tone. He wasn’t sure if his heart skipped a beat from irritation or excitement. Attraction, too, was undoubtedly involved. Not that he’d admit it aloud. “Lady Disdain,” he said, recalling the barb he’d practiced in the mirror back at the palace. He turned around to see none other than the Lady Mai - as expected - with her arms crossed over her chest. “I… didn’t know you were still alive.”

Ugh. The perfect set-up with a pathetic follow. How embarrassing.

Mai raised an eyebrow at him, perhaps as surprised at his weak retort as he was. “How can disdain ever die when all you do is add fuel to her fire, Prince Zuko?” She smoothed the front of her dress. “Surely you, heir to the royal throne and a firebender, would understand that.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, keenly aware they now had the attention of a crowd of Fire Nation citizens. Azula’s calculating stare behind him dug into his spine. “Lady Mai. You know as well as I do that the Fire Nation once again welcomes me with open arms.” He sent her a sideways glance. “Including your parents, for that matter.” He didn’t miss how she flinched at his words.

This month at her house would be… the longest of his life.

“I am certain Prince Zuko is loved by all in the Fire Nation, Lady Mai,” Azula teased, filling the tense silence. His sister never had been able to remain out of his relationship - former relationship - with Mai. “Except for you, of course.” She laughed, a bit louder than necessary. “Why, he’s turned down a dozen proposals in the past two hours since we arrived! And yet…” She sent Mai a casual, seemingly-innocent glance. “Zuko loves none.”

Why Azula alway felt the need to lie, Zuko didn’t know. What he did know was that her interruptions were not helping. And he didn’t appreciate the reminder of Mai’s hatr-

No. She didn’t - couldn’t -

No.

Zuko didn’t appreciate the reminder of Mai’s dislike for him. The loss of which he could only blame himself for.

Mai snorted. “And every woman in the Fire Nation is better off with his rejection.”

Zuko stiffened at the blow as the crowd snickered around them.

“But, I suppose I understand his desire to be alone, never falling in love,” Mai mused, a small smirk sliding onto her lips. It was the closest expression to a smile Zuko had seen on her face in a long time. “I’d rather hear a platypus-bear roar at a turtleduck than a man swear he loves me.”

Zuko glared at her, the memory of himself swearing his love to her before… before their separation bubbling hotly to the forefront of his mind. Anger soon overwhelmed any appreciation he’d had of her almost-smile. “And the Fire Nation is grateful for that, too, that way no man suffers from some” - what had Azula said to the jackass guard on their way in? - “some predestinate scratched face!” He paused. “Er, from being with you.”

Despite his faltering response, Mai returned his heated glare with an icy one of her own. “Scratching couldn’t make it worse, if the man had a face like yours.”

The crowd collectively winced at her words, and Zuko’s left hand crept up to brush his scar. Meanwhile, Azula’s eyes bore a hole into the back of his head - waiting. She was waiting for him to respond.

The flicker of guilt that flashed across Mai’s face disappeared as soon as it had come, her expression returning to its typical, unimpressed facade.

She hadn’t meant it like that. Zuko wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. He could just - tell, when it came to Mai. And before he’d - he’d left, she’d never… No. Zuko knew her well enough. Better than he deserved to know her. And Mai would never use his scar against him.

But, as crown prince and as her guest for the next month, he still had to save face. Not to mention Azula’s intense stare from behind him was yet to lessen.

“You talk more than a parrot-snake,” he snapped, which wasn’t really true, but the crowd delighted in the petty insult nonetheless.

“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours,” was Mai’s cool response.

Zuko barked a laugh. “I wish my ostrich-horse ran as fast as your mouth.” He held up his hand to stop her before she could respond. “But you’re free to tell yourself whatever you want, Lady Mai. I’m done here.”

The crowd whistled its approval before gradually dispersing, and Mai sent him a lethal glare as she approached him. Zuko expected her to storm past, but instead she paused at his side, closing her eyes as her face became expressionless once more. “You always leave before it’s over,” she murmured. Their shoulders were almost touching. “I know you of old.”

And then she was gone.

Zuko exhaled slowly before returning to his sister’s side, not missing the amused expression on her face.

“I see you’re still engaged in your ‘skirmish of wits’ with Mai,” Azula noted, examining her gold-tipped fingernails. “A merry war that you would certainly lose without my help.”

Zuko glared at her. “I’ve told you, Azula. I don’t need you involved in my business with Mai. It’s not your responsibility to oversee us.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “Please. Zuzu. You should accept any help you’re offered regarding Mai, what with how your previous relationship with her ended in a dumpster fire. A fire you lit.”

Zuko grimaced at the reminder. He hadn’t wanted to leave Mai behind. But he’d had no other choice. And even if there had been a different option… Mai deserved more than him. Always. “I’d still appreciate it if you stayed out of my business.”

Azula raised an eyebrow at him. “For the time being, Zuko, your business is my business. This trip to Lady Mai’s is not only to reassess the good standing of her family, but also for Father to make sure you are trustworthy.” She gave him a knowing, almost wicked smile. “So you have a double reason to be grateful for my help. Because you wouldn’t make it without me.”

Zuko hadn’t realized his fists were clenched until his nails began digging into his palms. He forced himself to relax, nodding. But little tension left his body. “Fine.”

“That’s my brother.” Azula adjusted the golden hairpiece pinned into her bun. “Now. Mai’s parents are hosting a masquerade tonight to welcome us. Be your chipper self, and when the time is right, put on a mask and dance with Mai so she doesn’t know it’s you. Use that time to properly talk to her.” She chuckled. “And until then, do figure out what you’re going to say.”

The masquerade… Zuko had almost forgotten. And as much as he hated taking advice from Azula, his sister had a point. Maybe the best way to be honest with Mai was behind a mask. So he nodded once more, and Azula appeared satisfied.

Zuko didn’t deserve a second chance. Not from Mai, of all people. But… She was worth trying for one.

Mai was worth everything. She always had been. And he’d never forgive himself for not letting her know.

II.i.123-152

Finding Mai at the masquerade had been easy enough, even considering that Zuko had briefly left after the introductory festivities to find a mask. Mai herself was not wearing a mask, for one, but she was also…

Stunning. There was no other word.

Mai always had worn red better than anyone else in the Fire Nation, much to the envy of Azula. She radiated power and grace as she effortlessly floated between partners - Agni, it was a miracle Zuko didn’t chicken out of asking her to dance. At least his mask hid how much he was blushing.

“So you won’t tell me who you are?” Mai asked as they gently swayed to the airy tune.

“I’m… the Blue Spirit,” Zuko said after a pause, not wanting to deny her an answer but unable to tell her the truth, either. He deepened his voice as he spoke, though he wasn’t sure how aptly that disguised it.

Mai laughed - quickly, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips just long enough for him to revel in it. He hadn’t seen a real smile on her face in years. “You know, Blue Spirit, I had an interesting run-in today,” she said, changing the topic from his identity, for which he was silently grateful. “With none other than Prince Zuko.” Her eyes flickered across his mask. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Zuko stiffened at his own name, relieved that the panic written all over his face was at least hidden. He cleared his throat. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “Yes. He told me that I was disdainful, and that he could hardly believe I was still alive.” Bitterness flashed across her expression. “Maybe he has been gone for so long. Long enough to forget everything.” The grip of her hand that rested on his shoulder tightened, but soon slackened. “Sometimes it felt that way to me.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never” - he coughed - “er, I don’t know of Prince Zuko.”

Mai gave him a skeptical look. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

A statement, not a question.

Zuko was sweating too much. His palms had to be as slick as a fish - spirits, he couldn’t believe she was still dancing with him. The time to switch partners had already passed. Did she know who he was? What he was doing? “Not I, Lady Mai.”

There was a long pause before she spoke again. The only sounds were the music and the idle, lighthearted chatter around them. “Did Zuko never make you laugh?”

Zuko blinked at the sudden subject change. “What?”

Out of nowhere, Mai took the lead in their dance, walking the steps that men typically followed as her hand on his shoulder dropped to his waist. He instinctively fell back, allowing her full control. “Well, Zuko may masquerade as a prince,” she said sharply, “but he’s much more the prince’s jester. A very dull fool, whose only talent is lying to and leaving the people who care about him.” Mai dropped him into a dip, and Zuko grimaced behind his mask as his heel ground into her toes. “He works too hard to please those that will only bring him pain.” She then pulled him upright before letting go of his hand. “I’m sure he’s still at this dance. I could have sworn he stepped on my feet already.”

The blood drained from Zuko’s face. Did she know…? “If I run into him, I will give him your message,” he managed to say.

Mai snorted. “Go ahead. I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of complaining about me.” She shook her head. “Maybe my words will dissuade him from coming to dinner. I don’t want to see him tonight.” She clutched the red fabric at her sides. “Or ever again.”

Zuko nodded. He didn’t know whether to succumb to the anger bubbling in his chest or the guilt rising in the back of his throat. “You put the prince down, Lady Mai.”

Mai laughed. It was harsher, sharper than before. “It is well-deserved.” She leveled her gaze with the eyes of his mask. “I lent Zuko my heart for a while, Blue Spirit. Longer than he ever did me. I was always there for him, even when my parents told me I should walk away. I would have done anything for him.” She took a slow breath. “And what did I get in return?”

Zuko swallowed. “I - I don’t know, Lady Mai.”

“Nothing.” Her voice had dropped close to a whisper. “Not even a goodbye.” Mai’s fists unclenched, the fabric of her dress slowly falling loose. “Do you understand, Blue Spirit?”

Zuko hesitated, but nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Good.” Mai turned away. “Enjoy the party.”

Zuko watched her figure disappear into the crowd. It wasn’t until she’d vanished from his sight that he realized… Oh, Agni.

He hadn’t said goodbye.

IV.i.269-350

Nausea lined every inch of Zuko’s stomach, bile threatening to rise into his throat and spill out at any second.

What… What had he just watched?

“Well, her father was right to reprimand her,” Azula said coolly. “Mai has no power. It’s time she learned that.”

Zuko stared at his sister in a mixture of shock and horror. “What? How can you say that? All Mai did was stand up for herself -”

Azula sent him a pitying look that silenced him in seconds. “Zuzu. She has nothing to defend. Mai is a lady, belonging neither with royalty nor with the peasants. She must learn to be silent, and to be satisfied with her station. It is the only way she’ll survive. Besides, her parents were probably just having a bad day and took it out on her -”

“Her father accused her of ingratitude and her mother stayed quiet the entire time he shouted at her,” Zuko interrupted, his fists clenching so tightly that his fingernails cut into his palms. He’d be amazed if there was no blood. “It’s obvious they’ve been through this before, Azula. Mai shouldn’t be treated like a prisoner in her own home because of one question! She shouldn’t be ignored or - or denied her voice! All she wanted was…” Oh.

To get away.

Maybe… she’d wanted to go with him. All those years ago.

“Mai knows as well as anyone else what her place is,” Azula snapped. “Second to the son. Behind the heir.” She shook her head. “I thought you’d learned your place, too, Zuzu, but now…” She glared at him. “I’m not so sure. Don’t make me tell Father that you have some foolish fantasy prancing around your head about abolishing the nobility just so your ex-girlfriend will feel better.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. His scar ached at the reminder of his father. But he knew his sister’s words were merely a distraction. “I’m going to check on her,” was his final response before he followed the path Mai had silently taken out of the house.

He found her in the garden, sitting beneath a weeping willow. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she dropped her head, but not before he noticed the tearstains tracing her cheeks.

“Lady Mai,” he said slowly, lowering himself to sit beside her, “have… have you been crying the whole time?”

Mai wiped her eyes. “No.”

“Mai…”

She huffed. “Fine.” Her voice cracked, and she grimaced. “But I’m allowed to cry. It’s the one thing I have a right to do.” She shook her head. “At least in private.”

Zuko hesitated. “I don’t want to see you cry, Mai.”

“Then shut your eyes.”

Zuko chewed his bottom lip. He wanted nothing more than to pull Mai into a tight embrace, promising her that everything would work out and her parents would come to their senses. Even if those words might be - would be - a lie.

But it was no longer his place to do so. Not anymore.

“Your father was wrong to speak to you like that,” he decided to say. “And your mother was wrong to not step in and help you, either.”

“I’m well aware,” she said bitterly. “And I’d owe everything to the person who dared to actually tell them that.”

“Is there a way to show such friendship?” Zuko asked after a pause.

She laughed. It was harsh, scratching her throat. “Of course there’s a way. But I have no friends here.” She glanced at him before dropping her gaze back to the grass beneath her palms. “Not anymore.”

Zuko placed his hand on top of hers, scarcely managing to bite back a relieved exhale when she didn’t pull away. “Ty Lee is gone. Azula doesn’t count. But…” He took a deep breath. “Can a man do it?”

Mai scoffed. “Right. Because I’m sure the world considers it a man’s office to defend a woman.” She sighed, and he could feel her clench the grass beneath her hand. “Maybe it is. But it’s not yours, Zuko.”

Zuko knew it was now or never. He’d hurt her before. Maybe irreparably. But he had to try. She - Mai needed someone to be there for her, he knew she did. And he loved her. He - He wanted to be there for her in all the ways he hadn’t been before.

So maybe it was selfish, but…

“Mai.” He reached out, tucking her hair that had fallen loose from her buns behind her ear. “I… I love nothing in the world as much as you.” He gave her a weak, maybe too-timid smile. “Isn’t that strange?”

Mai froze at his words, and all hope bled out of Zuko’s body. He silently cursed himself. Why had he spoken? Why hadn’t he just accepted that he’d ruined things permanently between them when he’d abandoned her alone three years ago?

“It’s… not strange,” she quietly admitted, and Zuko’s heart skipped a beat. “I could say that I loved nothing as much as you, but” - she shook her head, frustration glimmering in her eyes - “you shouldn’t believe me when I say it, even if I’m not lying -”

Mai cut herself off again with a sharp inhale, pulling her hand out from under Zuko’s to wipe her eyes a second time. “I admit nothing.” She looked up at him, and the hurt in her expression was soon drowned out by a fragile, hopeful hesitation. “But I won’t deny anything, either.” She sighed in frustration, running her hands through her hair. “Agni, I’m so sick of feeling sorry for myself!”

Zuko’s heart was beating out of his chest. “You love me.”

Mai scoffed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

Zuko shook his head. “I didn’t think - after what I did - I don’t deserve -”

“It’s not about ‘deserve,’ Zuko!” She sighed again. “It’s never been about ‘deserve.’ Because you always loved me. The real me.” Mai closed her eyes, pain flickering across her face. “Yes. You screwed up. For a long time, Zuko, I thought I hated you. And I didn’t want to -  I - I couldn’t forgive you. Not at first.” Her gaze hardened. “And I’m still angry at you.” She clenched her fists. “But…”

Zuko’s breath hitched in his throat. “But what?”

Mai groaned. “Agni forgive me.”

Zuko frowned. Where was this going?

She exhaled slowly, lacing her fingers through his. “Zuko… I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. Even I told myself I had.” She laughed - still quiet, but without the harshness of before. “Maybe, if the time was right, I’d even act like Ty Lee and protest that I loved you.”

Zuko’s grip on her hand tightened. “What’s stopping you? Do it with all your heart.” He remembered Uncle saying that to his wife, eons ago. And he wanted to hear the response from Mai. All three words.

Mai laughed again, light and open for the first time since he’d arrived at her home. She turned towards him, cupping his face with her free hand. “I think I love you with so much of my heart that none of it is left to protest.”

Zuko stared at her, drowning in her presence.

And then he was kissing Mai, his hand resting at the curve of her neck atop her collarbone as he pressed her back against the trunk of the tree. She wrapped her arms around his waist in response, pulling him into her body to deepen the kiss before one of her hands rose up to entangle itself in his hair. Zuko regretted nothing more than when he had to pull away to breathe.

“Don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” Mai whispered, her chest rising and falling with a rapid speed that told Zuko she’d enjoyed the moment as much as he had. She touched their foreheads together. “Just because we’re on kissing terms again doesn’t mean my expectations have lowered.”

Zuko was simply grateful she was willing to give him another chance. He pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw. “Ask me to do anything for you.”

There was a long pause. The air seemed to grow heavier in the silence.

“Kill my parents.”

Zuko eyes widened in horror. The social consequences, the punishment from his father, the possibility of another lifetime of exile… It was impossible. “I can’t.”

Mai jerked away from him as if she’d been burned. “You kill me to deny it. Goodbye.”

“Mai!”

She pulled her arm away as he grabbed it, pushing herself to her feet. “I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you.”

Zuko reached after her a second time, his hand closing on her wrist. “Mai, please -”

“Don’t touch me!”

The force of her words shocked him, and he let go. “Can we at least be friends again?” he finally asked, slowly getting to his feet.

She stared at him incredulously. The amount of emotion she was expressing in such a short span of time was almost foreign to Zuko, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction that she was only willing to be so expressive around him. “You’d rather be friends with me than fight with my enemy?”

“Are your parents your enemy?” he pleaded.

“Agni, you of all people should understand that, Zuko!”

He winced at her words, hand creeping up to touch his scar. He… Yes. He understood. Not that he’d ever wanted to think of Ozai, his father, as his enemy.

But just because Mai’s parents had never burned her didn’t… It didn’t mean they’d ever loved her.

“Have they not proved themselves in the height of villainy?” Mai hissed. “Treating me like our family is better off when I’m out of the house? When I’m in a different room? When I am silent?” She clenched her fists. “Showing every damn day that our name, our reputation will always be more important than what I want? Telling me that my little brother means more to them than I ever could? Making no move to help me when - when you left -” She choked on her words and shook her head, blinking back tears. “Spirits, if I was a man - if I was allowed control over my own life -” Mai dug her heel into the dirt, her hands slowly uncurling. “I would eat their hearts in the marketplace.”

Zuko inhaled sharply. That was near treason. “Mai, you can’t -”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I can’t do!” Her voice broke, and Zuko’s heart shattered at the same time. “I’m tired of hearing those words! Every day! Do this, don’t do that, look, don’t touch, see without being seen!” She pushed her hair out of her face. “What good is being a prince, Zuko, if - if you can’t help people with that power? If you can’t take them with you?”

He heard what went unspoken.

Why did you leave me behind?

“I can’t escape this hell with wishing, so I’ll die here with grieving,” she finished bitterly, turning to leave the garden.

Zuko hastily stepped in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Mai, I swear -”

“I don’t need another broken promise from you, Zuko,” she said coldly, though she made no move to walk away.

Zuko flinched at her words. “Okay. You’re right.” He released her hands, exhaling slowly. “I can’t kill your parents, Mai. But” - he met her gaze directly to stop her from interrupting - “I can get you out of here. I - I don’t know how, yet, but we’re leaving. Soon. And this time, we’re going together.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mai. I never meant to hurt you.”

Mai didn’t respond. And when she fell forward into his arms after her knees buckled beneath her, Zuko held her close, willing to stay as long as she needed.

He was never leaving her again.

V.ii.42-103

Everything was in place.

That night, while everyone - including the servants - was attending a performance by the Ember Island Players, he and Mai would have the perfect chance to sneak out. Zuko wasn’t sure where they’d go. Maybe Ba Sing Se. Eventually, of course, they’d have to return to the capital. He had duties to fulfill as crown prince. And Mai…

Well, she’d be Fire Lady one day. Probably the best in history. If he had to, he would make them respect that.

“You asked for me?”

Zuko stood from the bench he was sitting on as Mai entered the garden, dressed in more relaxed attire than he knew she’d worn in a long while. He enjoyed seeing her comfortable. “Yes.” He moved forward to kiss her, but she sidestepped, giving him a teasing smile.

“I’m here for an update, Prince Zuko. If what you say satisfies me, then maybe - maybe - neither of us will depart unkissed.”

Zuko laughed. Seeing her in perpetual good spirits was his new favorite thing. Well, his new, old favorite thing. Mai was - she was beautiful all the time, no doubt, but there was a special twinkle in her eyes when she hated the world.

He’d rather die than ever again see her believe the world hated her.

“I have good news. Our plan is a go.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll meet you at your bedroom tonight when it’s time to leave.”

Zuko saw tension ease out of Mai’s body at his words, her shoulders dropping in relief. “Waiting for these next few hours to pass will take years,” she admitted.

Zuko chuckled. “Then let me distract you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap as he sat back down on the bench. He’d half-expected her to stop him, and was silently overjoyed when she simply rolled her eyes before leaning back into his chest.

“Give it your best shot, future Fire Lord.”

“Hmm…” Zuko had to contemplate what best to say. “Okay. Tell me this - which of my bad parts did you fall for first?”

He could feel Mai laugh. The sound vibrated into his chest, even if he couldn’t see her entire smile. “All of them at once. But if anyone asks, none, and never.”

He kissed the nape of her neck, relishing in the shiver that ran down her spine. “As long as you’re honest around me.”

Mai hummed contentedly. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Which of your bad parts I fell in love with first?”

Mai laughed. “No. I mean I could ask you to always be honest with me, too. That said…” She turned in his lap to better face him, an edge of mirth to her smile. “Tell me - which of my good parts did you suffer love for first?”

Zuko found himself laughing, too. “‘Suffer love’?” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I guess I do suffer, since I love you against my will.”

“Oh, in spite of your heart, I’m sure,” Mai mused, a teasing glint now shimmering in her eyes. “Poor heart.”

Zuko chuckled. “Azula always said we didn’t know how to flirt like normal people.” Mai accepting him back into her life had made dealing with Azula’s temperament far easier the past few days.

“She might have a point.” Mai shrugged. “But who cares what Azula says? We found our way back to each other.”

Zuko closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. “We did. And I’m never leaving you again.”

There was a pause before Mai responded. “Will you…” She took a shuddering breath, placing one of her hands on his chest. “Are you really going with me tonight?”

Zuko leaned back slightly, removing one of his arms from around her waist to cup her face in his hand. “Lady Mai, I will live in your heart, die in your lap, and be buried in your eyes. Most importantly…” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I will go with you wherever you travel.”

Mai leaned into a second kiss. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m never letting you say goodbye to me again.”

“You won’t have to,” Zuko promised. His grip tightened on her waist. “I know I’ve said it before, but I - I never wanted to leave you, Mai. And I know I hurt you.” He shook his head, gently running his thumb just beneath her eye. “I could apologize a million times and that wouldn’t make up for it -”

“Zuko.” Mai gave him a gentle smile. “You came back. That’s what matters.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow at her. “So… Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

Mai rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t leave. “I think we’re well past that point, Zuko.”

And when she crashed her lips onto his for the umpteenth time, well… That answered any other questions Zuko may have had.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever,

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey, nonny nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo

Of dumps so dull and heavy.

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy.

Then sigh not so, but let them go

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey, nonny nonny.

[leechobsessed]

These Streets

Good intentions backfire

characters: Ella Sagen, Julian Devorak, Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) and Beatrice Viano (of @juliandev0rak) pairing: mostly beaellaleila but there’s logen angst there too words: ~3.1k  warnings: alcohol, aggressive/unwanted sexual contact

notes: this takes place a couple of months after Sunrise, Ella is still sad.

He had been watching her all day, she could feel it. 

He was trying to be subtle about it, but Julian had never been one for subtleties. At first, she had tried to ignore it, but she could tell by the growing tension in his shoulders and jaw that he felt the need to say something to her, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t want to hear it.

So instead, she chooses to focus on the task before her; taking inventory of the elixirs and potions in their medicine closet, mentally chiding herself for letting the stores get as low as they were, regretting allowing herself to be so distracted over the past few weeks. It would take her at least a week to replace all of these.

She holds her pencil in her mouth as she stands on tiptoe to reach the jars on the top shelf, grasping blindly before a leather-gloved hand reaches above her to retrieve the items for her.

“It must be difficult being so short,” Julian jokes, handing her the jars before retreating behind her. He sits against her desk, watching as she continues with her work. 

“I’m not short,” Ella responds, tossing a glance in his direction. “You just happen to be exceptionally tall.”

Julian chuckles, but offers nothing further, instead folding his arms across his chest, continuing to watch her work.

After a few more minutes of sensing his eyes on her, Ella sighs, setting her notebook and pencil down. She turns to face him, leaning in the doorway of the closet. “If you keep staring at me, I’m going to start to think you have feelings for me,” she jokes, raising her eyebrows. “Is there something on your mind, Dr. Devorak? Or are you in love with me.”

The doctor sighs, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on the desk, his fingers curling around the edge. “Ella, are you okay?”

She frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve known you a long time, longer than even Leila has— ”

“Oh, you love to bring that up, don’t you? Don’t let her hear you bragging—”

“ —Longer than even Leila has. And although you and I are nowhere near as close as the two of you, I hope you know…I hope you know you can talk to me if you need to.” He licks his lips, cocking his head to the side before he continues. “Especially if it's something you don’t feel like you can discuss with Leila.”

Ella places her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows. “What wouldn’t I be able to talk to Leila about?’

“Lachlan.”

At the mention of his name, Ella stiffens. It feels like someone had poured cold water down her spine, a buzz of adrenaline running through her veins from her core outward. She blinks at Julian, who sits quietly, still looking at her. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She does her best to sound convincing, but even she can hear the defensive tone in her voice, a feeble attempt to mask her true feelings on the subject.

“I’ve also known you long enough to know when you’re lying,” he counters, standing up from the desk when she turns her back to him, picking her notebook back up.

“I’m not lying,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on the paper in front of her. 

“Leila is worried about you. Beatrice too.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t been yourself since Lachlan left. I’m not trying to push you to talk about it, Ella, but as someone who fell in love incredibly fast with— ”

“I am not in love with him,” she interrupts, startling even herself with the malice in her voice. She takes a deep breath to calm the anger she can feel rising in her chest, before she turns fractionally to look over her shoulder at him, her expression serious, tears threatening in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, I would just... I’d prefer we not talk about it anymore.”

Julian nods slowly, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder before leaving her alone to her work. Ella sticks the pencil back in her mouth, grinding her teeth against it as she continues her inventory, or at least tries to.

She had been doing her best to put on a brave face in front of everyone, especially Leila. Because there really was nothing to talk about. He left, and he had every right to. She knew it was going to happen, he made no promises to stay in Vesuvia. 

Except he did, in memory at least. It felt like the streets of Vesuvia were haunted everywhere she went, and she found herself still looking for him with every flash of blue eyes, every crooked smile she came across. She felt like she was going crazy, and it was making it very hard to cast his memory from her mind.

She knew that even if she couldn’t talk to Leila about him, Beatrice would happily listen to anything she had to say. But she had Lysander, and she didn’t want to bring her friend’s mood down with her feelings for and about the youngest Lonan brother. 

The sound of the bell above the clinic door pulls her attention out of the closet momentarily, but she continues to count the jars of antiseptic and antiemetics and anti-whatever else they have, or rather don’t have. It's not until a few minutes later, when she hears Leila’s voice, followed by Beatrice’s, that she sets her book down and makes her way to the front of the clinic.

Julian, Leila and Beatrice all turn to her as she enters, looking very much like three people who were just talking about her.  

Ella chooses to ignore this and smiles at them, hugging her friends before stepping back to address them. “What are you guys doing here? You’re not sick, are you?”

“We’re going out drinking,” Leila grins, handing Ella a canvas bag. “I brought you a change of clothes. We need a girls night.”

“Out drinking?” Ella echoes, peaking into the bag. “Out where? It's not even sundown.”

“The Raven serves patrons at all hours,” Beatrice counters. “Julian can attest to that.”

“I sure— hey!”

The girls laugh, shooing Ella back into the office to get changed. She emerges a few minutes later, trying to wrangle her hair into something presentable after having it pulled up and out of the way all day. Beatrice smiles at her friend, motioning for her to turn around so she can quickly capture the uncooperative tendrils into a braid. 

“Ready?” she asks once finished, and Ella nods, shrugging her cloak on. 

The three women walk shoulder to shoulder to the Rowdy Raven, their arms looped together. As they walk, they keep the conversation light and easy, catching each other up on the gossip they’ve missed over the last week or so, their laughter echoing down the streets. 

Ella keeps her eyes focused on the stone beneath their feet as they walk, only looking up to laugh or respond to a question. She’s afraid to pull her attention away from the street for any longer than necessary, lest she be reminded of the time they ran from they rain and hid under the awning of that shop over there, or when he kissed her in that alley before bringing her to his ship, or when— 

“Ella?”

Ella’s eyes shoot up to Leila, who raises an eyebrow at her. “Counting the cobblestones tonight?”

“It’s been difficult, given the pace we’ve chosen, but I thought I’d give it a try,” she chirps back, sticking her tongue out at Leila who laughs in response.

“I’m sorry we’ve been distracting you from such important work, but it would seem we’ve arrived.”

Ella detaches herself from her friends, pulling the door open. She bows to them as she gestures them inside. “After you, my dears.”

They find their usual booth, close enough to the music, closer still to the bar, but far enough from all of the action that they can still have a conversation without having to shout. 

“What are we drinking tonight?” Beatrice asks, adjusting the sleeves of her shirt as she shrugs out of her outer cloak.

“I could use some liquor,” Ella offers. “The stronger the better.”

“I’ll go get drinks then.” Leila nods, leaving the table to maneuver through the small crowd toward the bar.

Ella turns to Beatrice, who has her eyes on the band, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she taps her fingers on the table to the beat of the music.

“Receive a letter from a certain professor today?” she asks, leaning forward to prop her chin in her hands.

Beatrice laughs, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe.” Ella smiles as she shrugs in response, sitting back as Leila returns with the drinks.

“Don’t ask what these are because I don’t know,” she says, first distributing a small glass of clear liquid to each of them, then handing them a mug of what Ella can only assume is Salty Bitters. “I asked Barth for a surprise.”

The women raise the clear liquid in toast to each other, slamming the drinks back with a grimace.

“Oh, gods,” Beatrice coughs, reaching for her other drink, taking a long sip. “Maybe no more surprises tonight, hm?”

Ella wrinkles her nose, following Beatrice’s lead and taking a sip from her own mug. “Yes, agreed.”

Leila laughs, in much less distress than either of the other women. “Oh, please. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mm, but you know what was bad?” Ella can feel the effects of the alcohol already in her cheeks, a faint tingle on her lips. “Julian finding it necessary to ask me about my feelings for your brother.”

Leila stiffens but recovers quickly, reaching for her drink. “Lysander?” she jokes, but the joke falls flat as Ella purses her lips. She sighs, tracing her finger along the rim of her cup. “That is bad.”

“You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, right?” Ella asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“To do with what?” Leila asks, confusion written across her features, her gray eyes narrowing.

“Asking him to ask me about your brother, Leila.”

“I didn’t— ”

“You don’t need to lie to me, I just— ”

“Ella, I I’m not— ”

“I’m not sure why everyone has chosen today to take such an interest in this—”

Beatrice sighs heavily, setting her drink down forcefully on the table, pulling the attention of the other women toward her. “I did! Okay? I thought maybe, since you obviously don’t want to talk to us about it, Julian would be the next best thing.”

Leila and Ella both stare wordlessly at her, blinking as they process the information. Then, they stumble over each other as they question her.

“You asked Julian to speak with Ella?”

“You wanted me to talk to Julian?”

Beatrice sighs again, brushing her bangs out of her face before addressing Ella, her hazel eyes softening as they look at her friend. “We all just want to make sure you’re okay, Ella. We know how you feel, um, felt about him. So we didn’t want to push you. But it’s… The last time you withdrew like this was after...” 

Beatrice glances at Leila before turning back to her, not needing to finish the sentence for Ella to figure out where it was going. After Leila died.

“I figured you wouldn’t talk to us, you’d rather talk to Julian than your aunt.” Beatrice sighs again. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, Ella.”

“You were going to contact Vivian?” 

Beatrice shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “I thought about it.”

Ella hides her eye roll behind her mug as she finishes her drink, standing up from the table to order more. She returns shortly with three more drinks, pulling hers immediately to her, while the other two remain in the middle of the table. 

“I’m fine,” she says, looking between her friends. “I have been. I’ve processed my feelings on the matter, and I’ve moved on. So I’d really appreciate it if we could talk about literally anything else.”

Leila smiles sadly, reaching for Ella’s hand. “Ella— ”

“What, Leila? There’s nothing, and I mean nothing else to talk about. He left!” Ella snaps, leaning back in the booth. She takes another sip of her drink, her skin buzzing with alcohol and irritation. “I thought this was a girls night? Shouldn’t this be more fun?” 

Beatrice closes her eyes briefly, collecting herself, not much different from when she has to deal with an uncooperative pupil. “Ella— ”

“Was this whole ‘girls night’ just a ruse to get me drunk and talk about issues I don’t have? I’m. Fine.”

Whatever Leila is about to respond with is cut short by the appearance of a tall, tanned, attractive man, who smiles at each of the women in turn. “Ladies,” he starts, his accent suggesting he’s not from Vesuvia, perhaps somewhere north. “Anyone care for a dance?”

Desperate to leave the table and try to get the thoughts of another man out of her head, Ella throws back the rest of her drink and stands up, her friends silently watching the two of them leave before exchanging a look between them. 

The man, who’s name has been obscured by the alcohol in her head, is a decent dancer. Too handsy, pulling her into him much too close to dance properly, but an okay dancer overall. And she’s enjoying herself, for the most part. Dancing is definitely preferable to talking. 

So she flirts back a little, wraps her arms around his neck, trying to focus on his blue— no, he has brown eyes, as he spins her around the dance floor. 

Eventually, the man suggests they go outside for some fresh air, leading her out the back entrance of the tavern. And soon enough, she finds herself pressed against the wall in the back alley, his hands resting on her waist as his lips hover above hers.

She knew he was going to kiss her, but she didn’t feel nervous. It felt more like… dread. She knew the kiss this man would press to her lips wouldn’t, couldn’t, compare. But she needed to replace these other memories with something else, whether that was good or bad, she didn’t care.

It has been almost two months to the day that she had last been kissed, not that she had been counting, but she hadn’t been able to get the memory out of her mind. With him, it was always the type of kiss that sent warmth and chills simultaneously from the core outward, a kiss that lingered on the lips and in her memory afterward, for hours, days, possibly even years to come. When she closed her eyes she could still feel the heat of his lips against hers, his breath ghosting against her skin when he pulled away to smile at her, before crashing back into her, as if she were all he could ever need in life. 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be kissed like that again. 

This kiss, is nothing like the kisses that plague her memories. It’s rough, greedy, the intentions impure and unmistakable. Her body feels cold and tight, as if it were rejecting the contact before it could even occur. His mouth presses more firmly against her lips, his leg sliding between hers to pin her more solidly to the wall. His hands pull at her braid to tilt her head up into his mouth, and her stomach twists. 

This is all wrong. 

Lachlan had been an artist; with his drawings and his paintings, of course, but also with his lips and his hands, his eyes and his words. The way he touched her, looked at her, made her feel like she was a work of art, deserving of being admired and cherished and loved for what she was and all she represented to him. Every word he said to her, she believed wholeheartedly, trusted him fully. 

She shifts away suddenly, the feeling of unease growing in chest. The man in front of her frowns in the dim light, his hands moving from her hair to settle on her waist. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t—” she tries to pull out of the contact, but his hand catches her wrist as she does, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. 

His eyes narrow, his lips pulling into a tight frown. “What do you mean you can’t? You’ve been all over me all night, you can’t just—”

“Let go of me,” she hisses, yanking her hand away, but he shifts his body to block her exit.

“You’re such a tease,” he spits at her, his hands coming to rest on the wall behind her on either side of her head. “Don’t act like you don’t want me.” She turns her head to the side to avoid his lips meeting hers, just in time to see two figures emerge from the street. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Even in the dark, Ella can see Leila’s gray eyes flash as she takes in the scene in front of her. “You have two seconds to get off of her before you’re dead on the spot,” she warns, marching toward the man who immediately removes himself from Ella. 

Beatrice is at her side immediately, pulling her out of the alley, Leila now speaking threateningly to the man in a language Ella has heard her use before, and never in a positive way. 

“I’m sorry, Beatrice, I’m sorry,” Ella mumbles as Leila comes up behind them, still cursing. 

“Ella, it's okay, let’s just get you home.” Beatrice rubs her back, Leila coming on the other side of her to support her as they stumble into the street, still mumbling profanities under her breath in between comforting words to her friend. 

Ella chokes back a sob, suddenly overcome with emotions; the adrenaline from what could have happened, how thankful she is for her friends, how much they care about her, the pain at losing the only person she’s ever loved, most likely forever.

Her knees buckle, but Beatrice and Leila are there to catch her, pulling her into their bodies as she sobs into their shoulders.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she cries. “I’m so sorry, I know you just want to help—”

Leila shushes her friend, stroking the back of her hair. “Its okay, Ella, we know. And we’re here for you when you’re ready.”

[regents-hidden-artblog]

Two of a Kind

Skaia hung low in the morning sky, shining an inoffensive radiance over the snow. The Land of Winter and Frogs was cold, but a surprisingly comfortable cold, one I hadn't really known in all my years on Elysium. I exhaled a huff of air, and saw a thin cloud of mist in front of me. I was tempted to smile.

Alma was a few paces away, handily defeating a group of powerful Underlings. Silvery giclopes flanked by a horde of stony ogres loomed over her, harrying her with punches and charges, but her nimble feet and the resounding swings of her greatsword shattered each one into a shower of colorful grist.

After the last was dispatched, she turned to me and we continued walking down the wooded path. She was breathing hard, rasping slightly, like the cold of her planet stuck to her lungs as she breathed. She looked at me quizzically, thrusting her hands into her coat pockets.

Alma: you're looking more broody than normal. what's wrong?

Dante: more broody?

Alma: you've always got your lips pursed into a half-frown, like this!

She made a grumpy, irritable face, failing at the expression she described, before raising an eyebrow.

Alma: plus, you didn't even draw your sword there.

Alma: i don't mind doing all the fighting, but still, i kinda imagined you'd be all over that fight! literally!

Alma: so what's up?

I shrugged and gave a disaffected sigh, but kept walking.

Dante: i guess i just don't see a point in fighting right now?

Dante: i don't see a point in anything, really.

Dante: i don't have a purpose to do anything, so...why put forth the effort?

She frowned, but didn't know what to say. There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence before my sister finally spoke up.

Alma: well, have you given any thought to it?

Dante: thought to what?

Alma: what your purpose is!

Dante: oh. well...no. not really.

She slugged me, unbalancing me for a moment with the force of it.

Dante: ah-, hey!

Alma: hey yourself, idiot! that's important!

We turned to face each other, and she squared up as if she were ready to tackle me. It was hard at times to see her as my sister, with every appearance on the surface suggesting little, if any relation at all, but here, seeing her frustration, I could believe she and I were siblings.

Alma: you can't just shirk that off! if you're missing purpose, you need to reach out and find one!

Alma: so what are you feeling like you're missing? a reason to fight? a reason to be? c'mon, spit it out!

Dante: i-, uh...

Dante: ...both, really.

Dante: blending in is just...such an impossible, fruitless task, i-...sometimes i just wanna go home, lie down, and do nothing, because...it'd be better than the feeble attempts i make to fit in here.

She watched me for a minute, her anger slowly desolving into a sympathetic composure as she ushered me along with her down the path.

Alma: guess i'm not the only black sheep, huh.

Dante: what?

Alma: you wouldn't believe it, but really the only people i've hung out with are Dizmare and Shura. sometimes dad, but...

Alma: i don't exactly have a place of my own, you know. figuring it out is...difficult, to say the least.

Alma: it doesn't really help that i'm trying to follow in dad's footsteps and keep true to myself at the same time.

I stiffened at the admission, but she ignored it.

Alma: but i'm being patient about it. i'll work up the gall to talk to some people, and i'll explore what i can do to make myself feel at home. right now, though, i'm comfortable...not being comfortable, if that makes sense.

Alma: because i've got Diz, and dad, and you to talk to. i don't need to fit in immediately, i've got my own little circle of people i trust that can ease me into it.

Dante: you...trust me?

Dante: ...honest mistake, i guess.

I was rewarded with another heavy slugging.

Alma: say you're sorry.

Dante: ...sorry.

Alma: louder, don't mumble it.

Dante: sorry.

Alma: louder!

She drew her arm back, threatening me with a haymaker, and instinctively I flinched.

Dante: sorry! okay, sorry, jeez.

She let her arm drop to her side again, and we walked the rest of the track back to her house in companionable silence. When we reached it, that towering pillar of replicated wall and floorboard, she stopped in front of her patio, turned to me, and drew her greatsword.

Dante: ...what's this about?

Alma: i can't help you with fitting in, that's a long-run goal.

Alma: but i can at least help you get the will to fight again.

Dante: are you about to start swinging at me until i fight back?

Alma: nope! ...unless it would work?

Dante: no.

The massive blade was hefted easily over her shoulder, and she placed one hand on her hip as though to maintain a confident composure. Even without her god tier attire, she struck an impressive silhouette, and despite having said she had no intention to fight, her expression was marked by an unspoken challenge.

Alma: you want to know why i fight?

I shrugged. She rolled her eyes in response, but continued regardless.

Alma: i fight because it's fun. i fight because i know i'll always improve. i fight because, as far as i'm concerned, i was born for it!

Alma: if i lose, then guess what? i've got a new, explicit goal to overcome. if i'm angry or bent out of shape? fighting gives me catharsis.

Alma: but most importantly, i fight so i can keep my friends and family alive.

Dante: ...even though the game's over? they're in dad's protection now, you...you still feel like you need to do it to protect them?

Alma: dad's not omniscient or omnipotent! he can't do everything, so it's my responsibility to pitch in and help where i can.

Alma: if that just means i'm my team's vanguard? so be it! i'll protect them with my heart and soul.

Alma: and i won't be able to do that if i don't keep my skills sharp!

Alma: so what about you, Dante? when you think about it, deep down inside, are you absolutely, positively sure you've got no reason to fight?

I thought about it, and for a long time. Perhaps unreasonably long, but she was patient, albeit curious when I hung my head low in contemplation. This was a big question, and she was willing to wait for the answer, because she knew there had to be one.

Dante: my...what few reasons i have are weak...

Alma: well, spill 'em!

I hesitated, and still she watched me, waiting for my answer.

Dante: i...i fight for some people's attention, and...so i can feel...equal, i guess...

Alma: and whose attention do you fight for?

Dante: ...beatrice...isabella...aphros...

Alma: so keep fighting for them, then!

Alma: but you need more than that to keep going.

Dante: what, then?

Alma: well, you can make your own purpose. is there anyone in particular you just want to destroy? any big thing you want to do?

Dante: well...i-, i'd love to win tournaments, and...maybe beat hirces and alastair...

Alma: then do it!

Dante: it's not that sim-

Alma: i know it's not! fight! practice! get better, and beat them! win!

Alma: you lose every fight you don't take, so if you want to win, you have to fight!

I stared up at her in stunned silence. This was the same thing I'd been told dozens of times before, yet somehow, she made the words settle in my mind. It was difficult to fathom how she could impact me where others couldn't, but I would chalk it up to her genuine passion that made it through.

Alma: and one more thing, we need to make fighting fun for you!

Alma: i'll organize a little group, and i'll have you fighting like a devil in no time.

Alma: are you good now? do you have your reasons?

I shook off the daze, and for a moment she misunderstood, because she started to frown, but I stepped up and gave her a hug. She put away her greatsword and returned the gesture, squeezing me tight enough that I heard my spine pop.

Dante: yeah...i...

Dante: ...i think i might.

She beamed, and once again it was difficult to tell that she was my sister, but then I felt one more painfully heavy thump in my shoulder as we walked into the house.

Alma: good! now, while we warm up, i have an idea for something we can work on together.

Alma: we may just find our niche yet!