#Dove took their braids out the pink faded

[dani-the-goblin]

Veronica gets their obligatory Act 2 makeover for her birthday 🖤

cheers for the OG V today, too 🥂🥂🥂

[avian-writes]

"Used Tombstone for Sale. One Only."

Putting classified ads in the newspaper was both easier and more difficult than I expected. Easy to walk into the office, fill out the paper given to me, and hand over the appropriate amount of money. Difficult to ignore the looks the clerk woman gave me as I hobbled in on my own and at what I requested.

But I suppose they had a rule against asking too many questions, lest they insult the people who essentially pay their wages. So she took my ad request and money and told me it’d run for the following week. Hopefully one week was all I’d need. Short as the ad was, it took what coins I had left.

Outside the bystander office, my pink and white bike was thankfully still where I left it tied with frayed rope to a lamp post. One of the training wheels was stuck on a crack in the curb and I struggled to yank it loose.

The sun was still rising as I peddled and peddled down Main St, taking the long way to avoid Mulkey Road. It’d already been 5 weeks since, but I just couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere near the road sign, much less take a stroll down. Even if it added 10 extra minutes to my pumping legs commute.

The back road past Main St was still in a somber mood. Doors stay closed and windows locked. Gates were chained and flower boxes sat empty to collect rainwater. Not a hint or hue of color to be seen as I biked past the houses. Somehow even the painted wood dulled in the time passed.

My silent home sat near the end of the road. The smallest, but with the most land. Enough for my father’s workshop in clear view of the neighborhood. A workshop that was bigger than the actual house: a simple one bedroom home with a small kitchen and living room combo. My father always insisted the bedroom belonged to me, even if I usually ended up sleeping on the pull out couch with him.

A pull out couch that was still out and messed up. I hadn’t found any reason to make it up or put it away. And despite the fact that all I’d done that morning was go downtown, I was exhausted. The residual heat inside was already dwindling, chill rubbing into my bones.

Creaky springs from years too long of a life under faded cushions. Wrapping myself up in the red knit blanket, scratching at my chipped blue nail polish, and shutting my eyes.

It was a few days before I got a bite. A few days of nothing but sleeping and heating up cans of soup on the stove, not going anywhere else except shuffling back and forth between the couch and kitchen. A trail of scattered dust wove from the couch cushions to the front of the stove.

Somehow the phone hadn’t been cut off yet, and the loud ring jostled me from a nightmare of red stained concrete. “Hello?”

“I’m calling about the ad in the paper? For the- the t-tombstone?”

I bolted up, getting tangled in my blankets in the process. “Yes! Yes. That’s me. I mean- you’re interested?”

“I am. How- how much is the asking price?”

“Oh, um.” Damn it. I hadn’t even thought about that. No amount of money would keep me in the house indefinitely, and I had just enough food left until the end of the month when the late payments would finally collapse on me. “Eight hundred?”

“E-even though it’s used?”

“Well, it is a very nice tombstone. Black granite and doves engraved in the corners. No chips, scratches, or anything like that.” I took very good care of it.

The buyer was a young person, which I was grateful for. Young burying the old was the best way to go and I don’t think I could’ve choked down taking eight hundred dollars from some poor parent or grandparent who lost their child. No matter how much I needed it.

Around 30 years old and shaking feverishly as soon as she stepped out of the car. The buyer drove an old red Camaro with a dented bumper and one missing rearview mirror. A long riding trailer was hooked to its hitch.

Average height with plain clothes. Long blonde hair pulled into a twisted braid that I thankfully saw through the living room window. I briefly braided my own crinkling hair and stared at myself in the mirror.

It would do well enough.

The buyer saw the tombstone waiting in the front yard and stumbled on the walkway. I sucked in a breath and waited, but she quickly collected herself. I had given simple but important instructions that I watched her follow from the safety of my home.

The money was placed in an envelope that she took from a crossbody bag and dropped delicately on the front stoop. The tombstone was already on a pad of felt that she took hold of and easily dragged it across the unruly grass and onto the trailer.

She was sweating by the time it was safely on, but I could see hints of muscle working away under her shirt sleeves. She latched up the small gate on the back of the trailer, hopped in the car, and with one last fleeting glance at my home, sped away with the tombstone.

I waited until she was just down the road before exiting. My bike was ready, the rusty wire basket’s contents hidden under a dish towel. The chain squealed when I initially pushed it out of the grass and onto the road, but once I got it turning it cracked enough to not fall apart.

The funeral parlor, the only one within 50 miles, wasn’t too far into town. Thanks to the minimal speed limits, I was able to catch up to the buyer fairly quickly. Even with my ankle getting knocked by the revolving petal every other wheel spin, the tombstone on the trailer slowed down her Camaro enough.

The buyer stopped outside the funeral parlor and walked inside. I waited across the road, hidden by large, ornamental bushes. I watched as the undertaker and his assistant came out with the buyer withering away behind them. The assistant took the buyer’s car and the undertaker and buyer got into the waiting hearse around the side.

They all left in a shortened processional and I dutifully joined. I peddled and peddled, my knees growing weary the farther the hearse went. Canned beans and salsa on stale bread was proving to be a poor diet to do so much exercise on. I had been too cowardly to confront the buyer in person and ask the location of the funeral and this was my punishment.

Finally, a reprieve. The hearse turned off the main road onto a gravel path leading towards. It slowed to a crawl, the tires crunching over the small rocks as it headed through a large iron gate.

I hopped off my bike, my bones cracking from the soreness built up, but kept pushing on after it with my bike in tow. It was a cemetery, not a graveyard thankfully, dug into the side of a hill downspout from the forest surrounding town. The gravel path curved down and to the left to the bottom of the hill where a small group of people had already gathered.

The hearse stopped and so did I. Hidden in the shadows of the forest, I watched the buyer get out of the car and solemnly walk to the group of mourners who accepted her with open, teary arms. They climbed the hill to a marked plot while the undertaker began to extract the casket from the hearse.

The mourners were a small handful of people. A few women had hand fans that cracked as they were thrust open. A man in a bowler hat stood over the casket with a reserved face, save the clear discontent upon seeing the tombstone.

Only the buyer showed any real emotion. Remorse for the small affair. Sorrow for her loss. Gratitude for the warm bodies, however reclused they were, surrounding her. Somber for the distasteful weather the funeral had to be held in. Disdain at the mismatched tombstone to the body that now was being nudged into the soil.

I listened to the typical words: short prayers and generic stories, some that weren’t even true but who was going to fact check? Compliments and farewell wishes. Nothing bad was said. Nothing a true testament to his true character, whatever it was. No one ever spoke ill about the dead until the grave was out of sight and alcohol was in their system.

No flowers were thrown on the casket before it was covered up. No further tears were shed. All attendants shuffled away and down the hill, thankfully not in my direction. Back towards the gate.

The undertaker and his assistant shook the buyer’s hand before taking the hearse away. She turned her head to the sky, staring into the bleak overcast. It was almost melancholy, the picturesque scene before me on the hill.

The buyer carefully stepped down the hill, the freshly cut grass still attacking her legs.

I took her place

I could see it. The tombstone was at the head of the freshly filled grave. Beautiful flowers already adorned the soil and I knelt to brush some aside to read the inscription.

Edward Dalca

Beloved father

I thought about what the undertaker had told the buyer. It would be a few days before he could change the words. It was eerie and a bit haunting to think that the people who had just grieved a complete stranger had done so to my father’s name.

I took my little trowel from my bike’s basket and started to dig. 

Somewhere nearby, I could hear a scream that was cut off by a gasp for breath. I guess the buyer either hadn’t gotten far or was coming back to say another goodbye farewell see you later.

Hurried footsteps behind me, sharp nails digging into my shoulders and she yanked back. Screaming in my face, obscenities that would make the paperboy blush. None of which I think I heard. I was too focused on the grave behind her.

He’d been buried shallow, the buyer’s great uncle. That and with even my sad excuse for a shovel, I had gotten to the body before the buyer found me.

I leapt forward and shoved her; she was too busy yelling at the corpse to notice my sudden movement.

My trowel cut into everything. Dirt, rocks, bones, flesh. Mixing fresh and old blood into the deathly soil, fertilizing it like a macabre gardening project. On the edge of the cemetery while the screams of the buyer were quickly snuffed out by chokes and desperate pleas for relief.

My necklace came free during all this. My name, Nyssa Dalca, was spelled out in shiny white beads amongst polished smooth stones. Granite and limestone. The same many of the tombstones surrounding us were made from.

Finally, the sounds died down and the buyer stayed put in the shallow grave. I wiped off my trowel against the exposed casket and the buyer’s shirt and swept the upheaved dirt on top. Patting down the grave flat like burying a box containing your first deceased childhood pet. That, as a child you don’t realize, doesn’t like its claws being painted blue.

Standing up, I pulled my blonde hair into a twisted braid; picking up a stick from the forest floor to stab right through the unfamiliar strands, keeping it in place. I was still a bit hungry from my meager breakfast, and according to the undertaker’s assistant, there was a dinner being held at the diner nearby.

Selling my father’s tombstone hurt initially, but his journal and final letter to me was clear it needed to be done. I write this, my first account, to compare to his. He made a living for a good 76 years and, in his letter, assured me I could do the same.

Leaving me so young wasn’t part of the plan, and I have no idea what I’m going to do next, but at least with these muscles I can get started in his workshop. Another tombstone will need to be made.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion. 

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. 

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then… 

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn’t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.” 

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone. 

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains. 

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly,  “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves. 

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake. 

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s. 

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow. 

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek. 

A Katakan. 

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe. 

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once. 

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster. 

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then... 

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side. 

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart. 

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.  

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back. 

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned. 

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover. 

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

[remakethestars]

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞ 

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny. 

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers. 

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred. 

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research! 

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels. 

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[madsmikkelsenschesthair]

Blood of the Dragon ch.14

Hvitserk x Freyja/Reader aesthetic ❤️

Warnings: angst, fluff, first kiss, violence, mentions of character death

Björn and his father were not on speaking terms at all. After greeting his younger brothers, Björn and Ragnar only scowled at each other than Björn, his mother and brothers greeted the King and Queen. Björn ignored his father and focused his attention on Freyja and Freyja only. He had not seen the little princess for almost a year and he was not going to let anyone ruin it.

She had changed. She was taller, growing into her body, hair longer. Skin was cleaner and smoother than before and Freyja constantly smelled of roses. Her cheeks were slightly pink as if pink satin was trying to escape from beneath her marble-like skin. Freyja’s wardrobe had changed too. She wore the same pretty dresses the Southern ladies of Westeros wore and her hair loose but combed and free of tangles. During meals, Freyja sat the same way her stepmother did and the eating manners she had back in Kattegat were gone. Still, his old Freyja was there. From the way she smiled to the way she teased her boys. She still fought as bravely as a shieldmaiden, her purple eyes flaming and Björn swore he sometimes saw a shadow of a dragon behind her. That’s why the gift he bought her was the perfect gift. Hvitserk noticed Freyja’s changes as well. She was beautiful before but now...she was an absolute dream. Ubbe still treated her like a little sister but his younger brothers were going for another route. Maybe they indeed had a crush on her for her soul and beauty but maybe they wanted to win her heart so Freyja could marry them and become Kings. Ubbe hoped they liked her for her, for their sake.

Lagertha watched her ex-husband’s sons bond with Freyja. They were all in the garden of the Red Keep; Ivar was sharpening his ax, Ubbe and Sigurd were trying to teach Fenrir how to play fetch, and Björn and Freyja were talking. He said something to her that made her giggle, Lagertha chuckled at how small she looked next to her son. She heard the soft click-clack of heels on the stone floor followed by the clinking of armor. Lagertha could smell Cersei’s perfume before she could even approach her.

“She’s happy you’re here,” Cersei said. Hvitserk pulled a braid and Freyja squealed, the booming laughter of the eldest Ragnarsons rang in the air.

“I can see that” Lagertha glanced at Cersei and then went back to watching the little princess with her princes. “Does she like it here? Does she miss home at all?”

Cersei’s smile faded a little, thinking about the first few weeks when Freyja arrived. “She...she may have gotten into a fight with Viserys”

Lagertha turned away from the children with surprise. “What happened?” She was very interested in hearing this story. The little Princess was known back home for standing up for herself and getting into fights with boys, she wondered how she fought off a man.

“The King wanted time break her old habits such as hunting”. Lagertha never understood these Westerosis and their strange customs, men, and women could hunt, fight, raid all the same but here things were strange. “One morning, the Princess snuck off to the Kingswood by herself. Viserys followed her. You see, he was angry with us, with her. Targaryens marry cousins and nieces but this time the little Princess will marry a son of Ragnar” Hvitserk braided Freyja’s hair while Björn told a story about one of the raids in a new world, jealousy crossed the princess’s eyes. “Viserys followed her and attacked her. The princess fought back” Cersei chuckled looking more proud now, “It was not a good outcome for him and left him in a bad state afterward” Lagertha grew angry and she wanted to hunt down the Targaryen prince and cut off his hands for even touching her Freyja.

The little princess was happy her family had returned but she noticed there was someone missing. A certain priest that helped raise her and love her as if she were his own as well. Athelstan. Floki and Helga were missing too, Freyja looked for their eager faces when they arrived but they were nowhere to be found. 

“Bear, where is Athelstan?” Freyja finally asked Bjorn. The boys looked at one another their eyes hiding a sad secret. Bjorn’s little brothers turned to him for answers, no one had the courage to tell her the truth. He didn’t want to break her sweet heart. “And Floki and Helga. They’re not here too, why?” Freyja began to get nervous her eyes darting from Bjorn to Ivar. From Ivar to Sigurd. From Sigurd to Ubbe. From Ubbe to Hvitserk. Finally going back to Bjorn. A heavy silence hung in the air. 

Finally, Hvitserk answered, “I’ll tell her, brother” Bjorn stared at his little brother. “Are you sure?” Hvitserk nodded. “Come Freyja. Take a walk with me” He extended his arm offering her his hand and she took it, together they walked deeper into the garden leaving the rest behind. Her anxiety worsened the further they walked without talking, not even the exotic birds were chirping they seemed to sense the dreadful feeling that they were hiding. They walked until they were far away enough to hide from the guards and the other boys. It was beautiful where they were, isolated with white rose bushes and a stone bench, the bushes were high enough to hide them. Hvitserk offered her to sit, “I think you shouldn’t be on your feet for what I’m about to tell you” Freyja swallowed but she sat down.

“You can tell me now,” she said in a small voice, the dreadful feeling wasn’t going away and it seemed to worsen with the small pauses. Hvitserk sat next to her and took her hands in his. 

“One morning Bjorn went to speak to Athelstan about the next raid” Freyja studied his face, her heart threatening to explode. “Bjorn noticed Athelstan’s hut was unusually quiet and there was the smell of blood coming from inside” A lump formed in Hvitserk’s throat and he tried to hide his tears because one of them had to be strong for this and he wanted to be strong for Freyja. When he was sure the tears went away, Hvitserk finally looked up, “Athelstan was found dead. Murdered and-” 

“Oh no!” Freyja cried out, one hand covered her mouth and she began to sob big gulping sobs. Her sweet Athelstan slaughtered like that. Like a pig. “Who did it, Hvitty? Who killed our Athelstan?!” 

It broke his heart to see Freyja like this but someone had to tell her, he made it this far. “I’m very sorry sweet Freyja but...it...it was Floki...Floki killed him.” Freyja knew Floki hated Athelstan for being a Christian but she didn’t know he would go as far as killing him. She cried even harder the ache in her chest far too unbearable. Hvitserk put his arms around her and held her close letting her cry into his chest, her tears soaking his shirt but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about his shirt only caring about Freyja’s shattered heart. 

_________________________________

Freyja was warned not to tell Ragnar or anyone else outside their little circle. All she knew was Floki was in a cave, tied to the ceiling, with only Helga as his company. 

She was not told how long Floki had been tied up. It hurt Freyja that Athelstan was brutally murdered but it also hurt to know the conditions of Floki and poor Helga, who did not have to be there and was suffering as much as her husband.

At dinnertime Lagertha, Bjorn, and his little brothers were invited to dine with the little princess and her family. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying their meal but Freyja, Rhaegar watched her from the head of the dining table not paying much attention to Lagertha. Freyja picked her meat and stared blankly at her glass of water. The ‘only one glass of wine’ rule was not relaxed because of her Norse family. Rules were rules, according to her septa and the little princess was ordered to obey. Hvitserk kept stealing glances at her to make sure she was okay, Sigurd kicked him and mouthed, “The King is watching. Look away”. His older brother shrugged, ‘Freyja is sad’ he mouthed back, Both brothers looked at the princess, Freyja flipped her roasted quail letting out a loud sigh but not loud enough to interrupt the conversation. Ubbe reached for another piece of bread, then stopped when he saw his little brothers gawking at Freyja. He made an irritated noise and his brothers quickly looked away. If the King or the terrible Queen were to catch them...

“Father, may I be excused?” 

The grownups stopped talking, Rhaegar frowned at her untouched plate and said, “Are you alright little dove? You haven’t eaten much”

“You look rather ill, Freyja” Lagertha’s soft hand touched her temple. It amazed Freyja that after all those years of battle, her sweet Lagertha’s hands remained soft. A comforting touch. “You are a little warm”.

“You may be excused, Y/n,” her father said, “I will send Maester Pycell to your chambers to check on you” 

“No!” Her stepmother said quickly, “I will send two septas but not the Maester”

Lagertha shot a suspicious glance at Viserys. The cowardly man looked away. “And you won’t be going alone.” 

Bjorn followed his mother’s eyes. He did not like the prince either and after he heard of the incident, Bjorn wanted to slice off his prick for putting his hands on Freyja but his mother stopped him from doing so. “I will accompany the Princess to her chambers, Your Grace. I know she would like that instead of your guards”. The King agreed but Cersei did not bother to hide her anger something Lagertha noticed. 

Once they were out of earshot Freyja finally burst into tears. Bjorn quickly wrapped his strong arms around her, “Sweet Freyja, little princess. Daughter of Thor, this storm will be over soon”

“My heart is broken” she sobbed, “Athelstan was a good Christian, he loved us all how could Floki do this to us?”

Athelstan, the same man that pampered, protected her, told her about his God’s stories and his life before Kattegat, was dead. A sweet man who envied no one and didn’t wish to hurt or kill anyone. 

Bjorn kissed her head. It didn’t matter what anyone said. A father was a man that raised and loved a child and Freyja was his child. It hurt to see her cry. “Athelstan is with his God now. He always wanted to go to Heaven. Soon his God and our God will put their differences aside and when we go to Valhalla Athelstan shall drink with us and will tell him about our battles.” It was little comfort but Freyja felt guilty for the death of Athelstan, if she had not left Kattegat then he would still be alive. She felt even worse knowing she couldn’t tell Ragnar.

_________________________________________

Hvitserk stared at the three-headed dragon sigil on Freyja’s door debating on whether or not he should knock. It was after dinner, everyone else went to their respective chambers but Hvitserk. He decided to wait until his brothers had fallen asleep, their breathing even with Ivar snoring in the background. He wiggled out of his bed, put on his boots and tiptoed out of the room. Hvitserk couldn’t wait any longer to do what he needed to do. He held his breath and knocked. Inside he heard Fenrir let out a muffled bark then Freyja shushing him softly. She was surprised to see Hvitserk so late. 

“Hvitty” Freyja said in a low voice, “It’s really late you know”

He swallowed, “I know but I had to see you, may I come in?” 

Freyja looked behind him and down the halls to check if the coast was clear, once she was sure they were alone she opened the door wider to allow him to come in. Hvitserk whistled at the beauty of her room. Now, THIS was a room for a royal princess. Freyja even had her own study, gold, silver, and the finest silk in all of the lands were owned by her, Fenrir the direwolf had his own bed right next to the fireplace but knowing his owner, he probably slept with her every night. 

She suddenly realized that they were alone, just the two of them, and she flushed a deep red. “Hvitty, what are you doing here so late? What is it you wanted to tell me?” Even in her simple pretty nightgown with her hair let down she was still the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Shieldmaiden or Queen, Hvitserk would love her either way. What if she rejected him? What if she chose another brother? He couldn’t imagine being in the arms of another.

“You’re beautiful, Freyja” Hvitserk managed to whisper, “more beautiful than the Goddess herself”

The princess giggled, “Thank you Hvitserk is that why you came to me so late? Because you wanted to tell me I was more beautiful than the Goddess?”

“No! I mean, yes but I wanted to do something else” It was his turn to blush. His heart was pounding and Hvitserk wanted to crawl under the bed and hide. The son of Ragnar Lothbrok, legendary Viking, too shy to admit what he wanted to do. “I wanted to ask if...if I could...”He looked down, heat spreading across his face, “Freyja you are so beautiful with a heart of gold, is it alright if I kissed you? I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to”.

Freyja burst into a fit of giggles. “Have you ever kissed a girl Hvitty?”

He blushed again, “No. Have you ever kissed a boy?”

She rolled her eyes, “Bjorn is too overprotective, you know that”

“We will be each others first then-first kiss I mean”

She took his hand, a gentle smile on her lips, “I would love that very much”

Hvitserk sighed, relieved. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes falling in love with every passing second and leaned in. They closed their eyes just as their lips met just a gentle touch with lips barely parted, his hand cupped her burning cheek. 

They pulled away shortly after, they couldn’t get caught kissing especially in her room. But Hvitserk and Freyja were smiling so hard their face hurt. He pressed her forehead against hers, “I knew your lips tasted like honey. Thank you...”

She shook her head, “No Hvitty, thank you. Let me walk you back to  your chambers”

The pair walked all the way to the other side of the Red Keep talking and laughing the whole time. When they stopped outside his chambers, Hvitserk said, “Freyja won’t you get in trouble for being out so late?”

“I would rather get in trouble for walking around than you getting in trouble for visiting my chambers so late at night”

Hvitserk kissed her cheek one last time, “Goodnight Frey, thank you”

“Goodnight Hvitty”. He watched her disappear around the corner leaving him blushing for the rest of the night.

Halfway up the stairs to her chambers, Freyja bumped into her annoying uncle. He stank of wine and his feverish eyes looked even crazier. He was still wearing his dinner silks.

“What are you doing out here so late?” He snapped, “shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Why do you care? I was on my way to bed anyway!” Freyja bit back and shoved past him.

But Viserys gripped her arm and shoved her until she was close enough to smell the bitter alcohol. “You do not talk to me like that do you understand? I am your Uncle and you respect me!”

Freyja tried to pull away but Viserys had dug his nails deep into her flesh. “I don’t have to do anything you tell me to do now let go!” 

“You and those barbarians will pay for taking my Throne away from me and I won’t rest until I’ve had my revenge!” 

She dug her own nails into his face scratching his eyes. Viserys hissed in agony pushing her, Freyja let out a scream as she fell down the stairs Viserys could only watch in shock realizing what he had done. Freyja landed face down at the bottom of the stairs and Viserys rushed to her. 

“Y-” He turned her over, a small trail of blood coming from out of her nose running down painting her clean gown. Freyja was unresponsive. Her body limp and he wasn’t sure if she was breathing or not but he wasn’t staying to find out. He dropped her on to the cold hard floor and fled to his rooms. 

@thot-for-mikehanlon​​ @haleypearce​​ @mellxander1993​​ @faeeiiry​​ @-thatgirloverthere-​​ @blonddnamedhandz​​ @lettersofwrittencollective​​ @weirdpotatostuff @shelbi-percifull​​ @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction​ @colie87​

[moonlit--river]

Shirt Thief - Theodorus van Gogh

Happy holidays, @rimalupin 🎉 here's my Secret Santa gift for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange to you!

I hope this is good enough! I'm super nervous to submit it but I did my best 🌸**

**There's nothing explicit here, but there's some teeny tiny hints of sexiness, so watch yourselves!**

It'd been one hell of a long day. For everyone, it seemed. The same 24 hours in a single day felt stretched out to thrice that, and the entire mansion was eager to finish their work for the day.

You were no different.

[[MORE]]

After a day spent running about the...seemingly unnecessarily large mansion, helping Sebastian clean and cook and garden, along with making a trip to town for groceries, you were about as drained as could be.

Tired as you were, though, you still wanted to stay up and wait for your lover to finish his own work.

So into his room you went, feeling some of your tension leave you as you were greeted by deep blues and rich browns. Theodorus' room always calmed you, from the tidiness and colors chosen to the subtle scent of him hanging in the air, and the knowledge that you'd begun to share this space with him.

You began to make your way to the wardrobe moved into Theo's room for yourself, but slowed to a stop when your hand rested on the doorknob, your eyes drifting over to your boyfriend's own wardrobe. It's...certainly been a long and tiring day. Not particularly stressful, but slow and draining. Snagging one of Theo's shirts and snuggling up in his sheets with a good book was a wonderful way to wind down.

Plus, it's not like he was bothered by it. He tried to act as such, rough grumbles and complaints coming from him every time he sees you do it, but you know better. His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink you've ever seen, and you can tell by the way he acts that he likes to see you in his clothes.

Something possessive in him lights up at it, perhaps. Maybe you could spritz on a bit of his cologne and wear his shirt out and about one day, tease him a bit.

But that's later. Now is the time for curling up in the bed of a beautiful art-dealing vampire, and hell if you weren't going to do exactly that.

Mind made up, you padded over to Theodorus' wardrobe and open it up to nab one of his shirts. A plain white button-up, nothing particularly special, but it was his. Laying his shirt out on the bed, you strip down to your underwear and remove your bra...godforsaken uncomfortable thing...then slip the shirt on. Worn clothes go into your basket, your hair tied into a braid to keep it out of the way, your most recent favorite book scooped up into your hands, and into his bed you dove.

Sleek, silky blue sheets and the scent of him surrounded you as you got yourself situated, a smile making its way onto your face and the tickling heat of a blush. The blush faded along with that initial shock of giddiness you felt getting into his bed, but the small smile stayed on your face as you got to reading.

You hadn't been reading very long when the door opened, startling you out of the world of your book and inviting you to snap your gaze up to the doorway. Your tiny, contended smile was replaced with a happy grin when you saw none other than Theo, who hadn't even noticed you in his efforts to hurry inside and toss his things aside. To be dealt with later were his briefcase, coat, hat, shoes, and socks.

Though unintentionally, you get your own sort of revenge on him by setting your book down on the nightstand and getting out of bed to greet him. Startled by the dull thud of the book hitting the nightstand, he grunted and spun around to face you, still in the middle of taking his socks off.

"Wh-!? Christ, you couldn't have given me an earlier warning than that?" he grouched, pulling off his socks the rest of the way and tossing them aside before he properly got a look at you.

It seems your state didn't occur to him until just now, and with a giggle at the flush you see creeping up his neck, you step over to hug him. "Heh, I'm sorry. I had a greeting planned out, but you were in such a rush to get undressed." This earned you a grumble from him, and you felt his heart hammering in his chest as you stepped up onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Welcome home, Theo."

"Mgh...you aren't good for my heart, you know that?" Seemingly defeated by a peck on the cheek, he wrapped both arms protectively around you and lifted you up from the floor. Before you had any sort of chance to protest or question him, he took a step back and turned to drop backwards onto the bed with you on top of him. This earned him a squeak of surprise and then a laugh, and to hide his grin, he pressed a hand to the back of your head to smush you into his chest.

"I hope you weren't planning on doing anything for the rest of the night. You aren't leaving this spot."

Another giggle.

"You're really okay with sleeping like that? Pants, belt, tucked-in shirt?"

"...no."

And with that, and another soft laugh from you, he sat back up to change into his pajamas, however reluctantly.

You catch the looks he sends your way as he does, and you realize with a smile that the long day you've both had is soon to be completely forgotten.

[needdl]

How to Baffle Your Genin

Neji-sensei was sort of a mysterious man.

Rated M for language. Also available on FFN and AO3.

“Shut up, Tomoe!” Akari yelled, furiously launching herself at her teammate and pummeling her over the head with both fists. Tomoe let out a growl and raised her arms in defense, and seconds later the two were scuffling on the ground wildly.

Behind them, a nervous-looking Higuma stepped out of the way and did his best to ignore them both, squinting his eyes at the houses lining the streets and trying to determine which was the specific one they were looking for.

“I think that’s it,” he told Akari and Tomoe, pointing at a moderately-sized house with neatly kept bushes. His teammates ignored him, pulling each others’ hair and swearing loudly.

“Hey!” He kicked some dirt at them. “Knock it off! We have to meet sensei.”

Tomoe  gave him a mean look and stood up menacingly, taking half a step towards him. “Do we, freak?”

“Y-yes.”

“Leave him alone, Tomoe!” Akari stood up and dusted herself off. “Let’s just get this over with so we can all leave. What’re we doing again?”

“Choosing weapons.” Higuma muttered. He was the only one actually excited for it.

“Stupid.” Tomoe said derisively. “I can use a jutsu to fight. People who use weapons are weak.”

She gave Higuma a sneer. “So I guess that makes you the shittiest shinobi in Konoha.”

Higuma scowled back. “And what happens when you run out of chakra, dumbass? You get killed.”

“Ugh, both of you shut up.” Akari pushed past them and marched up the walk to the door. She rang the doorbell with decisiveness. 

They waited for a while, shifting on their feet. Tomoe shoved Akari’s shoulder, just to be annoying, and had her foot stomped on in response. 

“Should we ring the doorbell again?” Akari wondered. Higuma shrugged, and Tomoe just muttered, “Whatever,” which probably meant she thought it was a good idea. Akari rang the bell again, and this time they heard light movement in the house as someone approached the door. It opened.

“Hi sensei,” Akari and Higuma chorused, Akari very chipper and Higuma… not. Tomoe just grunted. 

Their sensei inspected them slowly, pale eyes inscrutable. After a moment, he said, “Students,” and gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

His hair was messily braided with a pink ribbon bow on the end, but he was such an intimidating presence that none of them, not even Tomoe, commented on it. 

He continued, “I realize you’re here to pick out your weapons, but I’m afraid my contact is running a little late. But she’s nearby, so we’ll be going to her.”

“Okay!” Akari said, very peppy. Higuma shrugged morosely, and Tomoe grunted again.

There was the sudden thumping of feet on tatami mats, and a little boy came careening around a corner to run to their sensei’s legs.

“Baba, I grabbed my kitty-cat-” He began, then suddenly noticed the three of them standing outside and instantly dove behind their sensei’s legs, peeking out at them with wide eyes.

“Good, Haruki-chan,” their sensei told him. “Is there anything else you want to bring?”

The boy ducked back behind his legs, his little hand clutching the fabric of their sensei’s tactical pants. “No,” he whispered.

“Then let’s go.” Their sensei stepped out of the house and they parted for him, swiveling back to look at the little boy. He stared at them, frozen in fear and clutching a little toy cat in his hand, then yelled, “Baba!” and ran after their sensei. 

Their sensei, who had already mostly disappeared from sight along the corner of the house, waited a few moments for the boy to catch up, then continued on, calling behind him, “Close the door and follow.”

The three of them startled into movement- Akari and Higuma both reached to shut the door at the same time and wound up awkwardly closing it together, while Tomoe slouched her shoulders and skulked after their sensei and his kid.

They walked for a few blocks towards downtown Konoha, a few meters behind their sensei as his kid clutched his hand and gave them wide-eyed looks in between chattering to his father.

“I didn’t know sensei had a kid,” Higuma muttered.

“You don’t know it’s his,” Tomoe snarked back. “Maybe he’s watching it for someone else.”

“It called him ‘baba’, idiot.” 

“Yeah, so? That’s what I called my grandma. The kid’s stupid.”

“Some immigrants in Konoha use it to address their fathers-” Akari chimed in, her tone edging into know-it-all territory. Both Tomoe and Higuma quickly cut her off; “Okay-” “Yeah yeah yeah we get it.”

Akari sniffed. “Whatever. Point is it’s probably sensei’s kid.”

The boy stopped dead in the street, whipped around to face them and yelled, “MY NAME IS HARUKI!”

They all stopped and stared at each other for a little. The three of them were very taken aback- and slightly guilty at being so easily eavesdropped upon by a toddler. Their sensei stopped too, and waited patiently until the little boy- Haruki, apparently- had enough and ran to hide behind him again.

He picked Haruki up and tucked him against his side, calling back to the genin, “Keep up.”

He jumped up to a rooftop and started darting away, leaping from one to the next at a pace they’d be hard-pressed to keep up with. Tomoe let out a loud swear and hurried after him, which sent Akari and Higuma flurrying into movement as well.

They caught up to him while he waited for them on a rooftop a few blocks down, talking to another shinobi.

“Holy fuck, who’s that?” Tomoe said incredulously. She was right to be shocked- the other shinobi was possibly the largest man any of them had ever seen, towering over their sensei and completely dwarfing the child in their sensei’s arms to the point of comedic proportions. 

Oddly enough, the kid seemed all right with the man, talking cheerfully to him and showing him the toy he had while the man smiled pleasantly down at him. In fact, for all his fierce size, the man exuded friendliness.

The three of them approached cautiously, trying not to stare up at the man. He gave them another pleasant smile. “Hello! You must be Neji’s genin team!”

They nodded dumbly. 

“Students,” Their sensei intoned, “This is Akimichi Choji, the leader of the Akimichi clan.”

They let out awkward hellos- or at least Akari and Higuma did, Tomoe just nodded- equally as awkward as her teammates, at least.

“See you next week, then,” Akimichi-sama told their sensei. “Bye-bye, Haruki!”

“Bye!” The kid yelled after him, as the man leapt- completely silently and with all the skill of a highly trained shinobi- from roof to roof until he faded from sight, which took a much longer amount of time than if the man had been of average size.

Their sensei strode to the edge of the roof and said, “Come,” before dropping out of sight. Akari let out a startled noise and raced over to the edge to look down, and surprisingly enough Tomoe was only a step behind her. They both peered over the edge, and Tomoe muttered, “Fuckin’ showboat.”

Higuma, perplexed, joined them, and gaped with Akari over the scene below. Their sensei was coaching his fucking toddler through chakra walking, holding both the kid’s hands in his own and walking backwards down the wall in front of him. The kid was wobbly but had clearly practiced it before, and could get in about three steps on his own before his control wavered and he fell forward against their sensei’s legs with much exaggerated oof-ing.

Their sensei wasn’t looking at them at all, his attention completely focused on the kid, but he was wearing the softest expression they’d ever seen on his face.

Suddenly he looked up at them staring, and they all jerked a little. Even after all this time, his gaze was… unsettling.

“I presume you are all standing there because you need me to walk you down as well, or else you would have done it on your own.” His dry tone was all the rebuke they needed, and they scrambled over the edge.

They made it to the bottom at about the same time the kid did, which was… somewhat embarrassing, but he’d had a head start.

The kid didn’t even say anything, just ran into the door of the storefront they had just walked down. The three of them watched him go in slight alarm, but their sensei seemed unbothered.

“Before we go in, have you given any thought to what type of weapon will be most useful to you?”

“Kusarigama,” said Akari immediately. Their sensei gave her a searching look, then turned to the others. “And you two?”

“I don’t know yet.” Higuma shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Maybe like a- a katana, or something.”

“I see. Tomoe?”

She scowled- not at their sensei, she was actually somewhat respectful to him- and muttered, “I don’t need a weapon.”

“Perhaps not,” their sensei acknowledged. They all stared at him, surprised to hear him admit such a thing. “But being proficient in some weaponry is a useful skill to have.”

He looked them all over again, and they unconsciously straightened up under his gaze. 

“You should know that my contact won’t care about what weapons you think you should have, and will in all likelihood give you an entirely different one. She will hear your fighting techniques and match you to what will be best, and there is no use arguing with her about it. She is blunt and does not care what you think of her. Remember this before you cross her.”

Ominous, cryptic warning given, he turned and walked into the shop.

Even Tomoe hesitated a little before following.

---

The store was a weapons store, unsurprisingly, and the walls were lined with huge, antique weaponry with signs that read, ‘DISPLAY ONLY. NOT FOR SALE. DO NOT TOUCH. ALL WALL DISPLAYS ARE RIGGED. WE ARE NOT LIABLE FOR ANY INJURIES THAT OCCUR IF PIECES ARE TOUCHED, BECAUSE WE PUT UP THIS WARNING AND YOU TOUCHED IT ANYWAY, IDIOT.’

The more standard shinobi weapons were on racks and in display cases throughout the store. Higuma covertly looked at the blacksmith’s insignia on the kunai and found it matched the ones they were given at graduation- the store must have been the main supplier.

Most startling, there was a girl sitting behind the main counter, a stack of shuriken in front of her that she was sharpening and polishing with alarming expertise.

(Sure, she could be an Academy student- but they didn’t start any real weapons training until they were about eight, and nobody mastered it as well as this girl apparently had until they were genin at least.)

The girl spoke without looking up from her task, “Hello, welcome to-” She glanced up. “Oh, hi baba!”

“Hello, little bird. Is your mom around?”

“She’s in back taking inventory. But Haruki went to see her, so she probably got distracted.”

“Probably.” He turned back to the three of them, who were reeling at the revelation that their sensei apparently had not one, but two kids. “Go ahead and take a look around, but heed all the warning signs.”

The three of them slowly dispersed, and poked around as their sensei turned back to his daughter. “Your hair looks good, baba.”

“Thank you. I had an expert stylist.”

The girl giggled. Akari leaned over to Tomoe and whispered, “Was that a joke? Can sensei even make jokes?”

Tomoe poked at some senbon and shrugged. 

Footsteps sounded from behind a doorway with a sign that said, ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’, and a few seconds later a woman pushed through the doorway carrying a crate of something metallic and clanky, judging by the noises. The kid from before followed close behind her, meowing and making his cat toy jump up and down her leg as she walked- which seemed like a safety hazard of some sort.

The woman was dressed in a manner somewhat foreign-looking, with a qipao of red and pale pink that had frog ties across the collar and her hair in two elaborately braided buns. Her eyes, when she looked at the three shifty-looking genin skulking around her store, were bright and warm, but also keenly calculating.

After a moment, she turned to look at their sensei. “Hi, honey!” She set the box down on the counter he was leaning on, then leaned up and kissed him.

The genins’ jaws hit the ground at the exact same time, the most synchronized they’d ever been. It was almost a shame that their sensei missed it- but he seemed rather busy kissing random women in weapon stores, surrounded by his secret children.

The woman pulled back and said, “Love the hair.”

“Thank you. Hui Na helped me with it this morning.” The girl at the counter giggled.

The woman turned to the genin again, and Higuma chewed his bottom lip nervously as she approached. 

“So,” she said, “You three are Akari, Tomoe, and Higuma, respectively.” Her friendly smile broadened until it was too wide and they could see the feral bite to her words. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She stared at them for some very long seconds, her mouth still stretched in that too-wide smile and her eyes terrifyingly blank. 

Higuma had a sinking feeling in his stomach. If she was as close to their sensei as all the- kissing indicated, then he had probably told her all the horrible details of their team practices, and how they couldn’t stop fighting long enough to do anything their sensei directed them to do.

“Well!” The woman chirped brightly, stepping away from them and clapping her hands together. It was as though a cool breeze had gone through the room, and suddenly the three genin felt like they could breathe again. “Let’s find you some weapons!”

Tomoe made a very quiet, derisive noise. The woman smiled at her, all warm brown eyes and bright sunshine. “Hm?”

“We don’t even know who you are,” Tomoe pointed out. Akari and Higuma exchanged a look, silently agreeing. 

“You don’t- Neji, did you tell them anything?”

Their sensei looked up from where he was playing dolls with his toddler, using a shuriken as a stand in for another cat toy. “I told them we’d be picking weapons.”

She tch-ed. “You’re hopeless.” She turned back to the students, tassel earrings swinging against her neck. “I’m Tenten, the Weapons Mistress of Konoha. How nice to meet you. Now do everything I say.”

---

Akari went first. “I want a kusarigama!” 

“Hmm…” The Weapons Mistress cocked her hip out and stroked her chin in thought. “What’s your main attack?”

“Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

“And how’s your taijutsu?”

“It’s… well, it’s fine for my level.”

“Mhm.” The Weapons Mistress thought on it for a moment, then declared, “No kusarigama. I’m giving you tessen.”

“What?”

“The last thing you need is a long-distance weapon if your main skill is Gōkakyū no Jutsu. Tessen will make you balance out your skills more in taijutsu and give you something to fall back on if you ever run out of chakra.”

“But… a kusarigama.”

“A flashy weapon that is far beyond your skill level.”

Akari pulled a face. “That’s the point of training!”

“You don’t have the base skills yet,” The Weapons Mistress told her frankly. “Once you’ve mastered tessen, then maybe you can persuade me to let you try out a kusarigama.”

“...Don’t think I won’t.”

The Weapons Mistress grinned. “I hope you do. Here-” She crossed to a corner of the store and pulled twin tessen off the wall and weighed them in her hands for a few moments, then handed them to Akari. “Try those. Start with them closed, using them with the same movements as defensive kunai while you adjust to the weight. Do that for a month-”

“A month?”

“Yes. Do that for a month and then come back to me so I can teach you more.”

“A… month…” Akari thoughtfully hefted the tessen in her hands for a few moments, then shifted her grip so she was holding them towards the ends. “Is this how I hold them?”

“Yes. Good instinct.”

Akari looked pleased at the praise. “Fine, I’ll use them.”

“How nice.” The Weapons Mistress smirked at her for a moment, seemingly amused. “There’s a training yard out back if you’d like to go give it a shot now, or you can wait-”

Akari was already walking out the door. “Good luck guys see you later-” The bell tingled as the door opened, then again as it slammed shut. 

In the silence that followed, the two remaining genin stared blankly after their teammate. The little boy, still sitting on the counter and playing cat-and-shuriken with their sensei, said, “Hey mama?”

The Weapon Mistress turned to look at him, her eyes softening. “Mmhm?”

He held up his toy. “Did you see my kitty-cat?”

“I did.”

“Oh.” He turned back to their sensei and said “Baba?”

“Yes?” 

“Did you see my kitty-cat?”

Their sensei just stared at the kid for a few seconds, and the toddler started to giggle. Finally, he said, “No, Haruki-chan. I did not see your cat.”

The kid let out a sharp burst of laughter. “Yes you did!”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Their sensei leaned forward and folded his arms on the countertop, pressing his forehead against the kid’s and smiling down at him. 

“Yeah!”

“How rude.” 

Over the sound of the wildly giggling kid asking the girl if she had seen the kitty-cat, the Weapons Mistress turned to the genin again, who were now reeling over the fact that their sensei apparently had at least one kid with the Weapons Mistress of Konoha.

(It seemed like the girl was probably hers too, but no confirmation yet.)

The woman’s gaze settled on Higuma. “And you? What kind of weapon did you have in mind?”

“It- uh, uh, uh-” Higuma rapidly spiralled into panic. He was fine when she was addressing them as a group, but the second she actually fixed her attention on him he felt like he was going to barf. Finally he squeaked out, “Sword?”

She tilted her head. “What kind of sword?”

“... a… pointy… one?”

Her brow pinched. “Uh-huh.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Higuma was almost positive the girl at the counter was laughing at him.

“What’s your main ninjutsu?” The Weapons Mistress finally asked.

“Erm, I use genjutsu, mostly. I’m not great at ninjutsu. Or- or taijutsu. Or genjutsu, really, but I’m better at that than the other ones.”

“What do you think your problem is with ninjutsu?”

Higuma inwardly balked. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this sort of turn. 

“It’s, well-” He struggled to find the words, looking anywhere but at her. His gaze landed on his sensei, watching him calmly as his kid(s?) played together. 

His sensei, after a moment of looking steadily into his eyes, inclined his head slightly, a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

Feeling desperate, he blurted, “Hasn’t sensei told you anything?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to hear what you have to say about it.”

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. He shifted on his feet, feeling sweaty and upset as the silence grew larger and heavier.

The Weapons Mistress cleared her throat, just a hint of impatience bleeding into her expression.

“I overthink it. I start to worry about amounts of chakra and how to control it and how to make the jutsu do what I want and then I panic and it all goes wrong.” He blurted, then gasped for air.

She considered it for a moment. “How’s your chakra control?”

“Fine, except when I have to do any real jutsu and then I panic.”

“I see. It seems to me that you might benefit from something that forces you to use chakra more.”

That was the opposite of what he wanted. “Okay.”

“I can tell you’re not happy with it, but you’re choking those feelings down like a champ. Here-” she grabbed a short sword-thing off of a display. “Standard chakra blade. Start by using it as a stand-alone blade, and work separately at channeling chakra through it. You’ll be able to tell when you’re getting better at it based on how it feels.”

“Uh… okay.”

“Good. Go practice.”

Obediently, Higuma took the blade and headed to the practice yard. Akari was doing katas with her new tessen, wielding one with a great more ease than the other- she never did like using her non-dominant hand with weapons. 

She spun to face him and held up a closed tessen to his throat. He blinked, alarmed. 

“What’dya get?” she chirped.

He held up his weapon. “Chakra blade.”

“You suck at using chakra.”

“I know. She said it’d help me balance it out more.”

“Huh. Well, she’d probably know.”

“Yeah. Hey, guess what?”

“No. Just tell me.”

He sighed. “That ruins the whole premise, Akari.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to argue with me about this? You’re the one who has something to tell me.”

“It’s some pretty mind-blowing information, so it’s really your loss.”

“That’s fine.” She swivelled away again, doing some more katas and looking completely unbothered. After a few seconds she yelled, “OH!” and spun back, jabbing the tessen excitedly in his face. “Let’s spar! Me and my tessen versus your chakra blade.”

He absolutely did not want to do that, but the only way he could think to get out of it was to blurt, “Those kids in there are sensei’s and the Weapons Mistress’s.”

“What?” Akari’s tessen fell from her hand and hit the ground with a dull clang, but she didn’t even seem to register it. “Sensei and the Weapons Mistress?”

“Yeah. I mean she did kiss him when she came in, remember? But I guess I didn’t make the connection until the little kid called her ‘mama.’”

“Holy fuck.” Akari blinked at him for a few moments, before her face turned thoughtful. “Well, I can see it now that I look back on it. The girl sharpening the shuriken did look a lot like the woman, but she had eyes like sensei’s, did you notice?” He hadn’t. “Plus it explains why the kid was so excited to see her, and so comfortable with her.

“I mean, I knew sensei is married, but-”

That was news to him. “Wait, really? They’re married? No, not even that, sensei is married?”

“YES!” Akari scooped up her dropped tessen and gestured with it wildly in irritation. “I keep telling you both that he’s actually a super well-known, super powerful shinobi in Konoha and it’s really easy to find information about him, but you guys never listen to me! I’m not even from a shinobi family like you two are, how come you don’t know this?!”

Higuma was still digesting the information that his sensei had a wife. “He’s… married… weird...”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s spar.”

“No, wait, I don’t want-”

“ThreetwooneGO!” She leapt at him, tessens flashing, and he hastily yanked his new chakra blade up in front of him to parry her attack.

She continued striking at him, with much twirling and theatrics, and he stayed on the defensive, trying to use the blade the way that he’d been advised. His hand wasn’t used to the weight, and it wasn’t long before his grip began to tire.

Akari knocked the blade out of his hand with a loud “HA!” and a flourish of her tessen, snapping the other one open and fanning herself with it dramatically as she smirked at him. 

It occurred to him then that the Weapons Mistress really had known what she was doing, because Akari had a flair for the dramatic and the tessen were just flashy enough to keep her interested.

“Yield,” he sighed to his teammate, and she grinned, smug.

There was a clattering from the alleyway leading into the sparring yard, and suddenly Tomoe came storming in, looking stone-cold furious. Behind her was the Weapons Mistress, juggling a few kunai in her hand and looking bleakly cheerful.

Their sensei was a few steps behind, and his approach was best described as… cautious. A chill went down Higuma’s spine.

Tomoe spun around to face the Weapons Mistress. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t need a weapon.”

“Then prove it,” she fired back. Her grin was maniacal. “If you don’t need a weapon, that must mean you think that if you run out of chakra, you’ll be able to fend for yourself with taijutsu, right?” 

Tomoe snarled wordlessly. 

“You attack me as much as you want. I’ll defeat you with this senbon and nothing else.” She held up the senbon between two fingers, and it glinted in the low lighting. 

“Tenten,” their sensei called abruptly. “Disarm yourself completely.”

The woman huffed, but started to comply, tucking the senbon into her hair and removing the bracelets around her wrists that the genin were suddenly realizing were actually summoning scrolls, then taking off the kunai holster from around her fishnet-clad thigh in such a sinuous and purposeful manner that it had both Akari and Higuma flushing a little.

But if they thought that was bad, then what she did next was even worse, which was to snap open the ties of her dress and pull out two sai and a handful of shuriken from her… ahem.

She flicked them over her shoulder and they embedded themselves in the tree their sensei was sitting against, coming very close to slicing his skin. He said nothing, but the look he gave the Weapons Mistress was scorching, although the exact nature of it- whether it was in anger or in some other, more debaucherous emotion- wasn’t clear.

“There,” she said at last, uncoiling an honest-to-god chain from around her waist, which had been concealed under her belt (that apparently acted as another scroll container when needed) and setting it on the ground. “Senbon only.”

“Your boots,” their sensei called.

She cursed under her breath and pulled three slender knives from the sole of each boot, then a small jian from each calf. “Is that good enough for you?”

“What about the karambit in your hair?”

“What about your hair, Neji?” She fired back, reaching her hands up and tugging at the strands to her buns.

“What’s to discuss? It looks very fashionable.”

“Yeah, to a nine-year-old.” The woman pulled a curved blade from her hair and flicked it over to rest at their sensei’s feet.

“If you are insinuating that Hui Na did this to be fashionable, you are sorely mistaken. She was trying to embarrass me.”

“Well you’re really rolling with it, so the joke's on her, I guess.” The woman grinned.

“Precisely.”

Tomoe had been standing with her fists curled tightly, her aura darkening as the woman seemed to take her so glibly. “Are we fighting or not?”

“Oh, of course,” the Weapons Mistress pivoted smoothly to face her, senbon glinting obviously in hand. “Ready when you are.”

Tomoe charged her, one hand ready with her Crystal Release. The woman’s hand flicked out in an idle motion, and seconds later an entire branch from a tree fell down, almost on top of Tomoe. She barely managed to dodge out of the way.

The genin all gaped. The Weapons Mistress twitched her finger, and Tomoe threw herself to the ground as a sharp whistling noise filled the air and a streak of silver, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding air, whistled past the spot her head had been.

The Weapons Mistress raised a casual hand and snatched the senbon from the air. 

Tomoe mustered herself again and spread her legs apart, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Her hands flickered through their positions, and she braced herself and yelled, “Crystal-”

Another twitch of the finger, and the blur of silver was darting away again, this time to slice against the dip between Tomoe’s index and middle fingers.

It was a painful, distracting wound, and Higuma winced in sympathy as Tomoe jerked her hand into a fist with a curse, blood welling up and running over the back of her hand. She didn’t let it deter her for long, however, gritting her teeth and beginning the motions of her hand seal again. 

She was stopped once more as the senbon went darting away again, headed for Tomoe’s arms. It stuck deep into her bicep and stayed there.

Tomoe  let out a grunt of pain, trying futilely to yank the senbon out as blood darkened her sleeve and slicked up her fingers.

Higuma tore his eyes away from the mildly disturbing sight of his teammate’s struggles to look at the Weapons Mistress. She was standing silhouetted by the setting sun, resting her weight on her heels with her arms folded across her chest, back ramrod straight. For the first time, she was standing completely upright, not cocking her hips out to the side, not tilting her head, not leaning over to rifle through bins and shelves of weapons.

She was taller than Higuma had realized.

Finally seeming to decide the senbon wasn’t worth it, Tomoe stopped pulling at it and charged straight for the Weapons Mistress, hands flicking in her seal and finally yelling, “Growing Crystal Thorns!” 

One of her mysterious crystal structures began to form and leapt towards the Weapons Mistress- but stopped abruptly as Tomoe staggered to a kneeling position, gasping for breath.

Higuma and Akari both took a lurching half-step towards their teammate before remembering she was in the middle of a spar and stepping back. Akari chewed her thumbnail nervously. 

Tomoe stared up at the Weapons Mistress, her eyes glazed, then shoved herself back to her feet and stumbled towards her again. She got three more steps in before sinking down again, chest heaving as she crumpled onto the ground.

The Weapons Mistress walked over to her small form and pulled the senbon out of Tomoe’s bicep, wiping it on a small cloth before tucking it out of sight within her hair. She glanced over at their sensei. 

“Pass me my right wrist scroll?” She caught the scroll as their sensei tossed it to her and unsealed a small vial from it, then injected some of the contents into Tomoe’s other arm. Then she hoisted the genin over one shoulder and stood, fixed her eyes on Higuma, and said, “Run down to the Yamanaka flower shop and get the blonde woman working there- Ino. Tell her that Tenten wants her to swing by the shop to monitor the effects of her Beta strain.”

Higuma blinked, stuttered, “Yamanaka flowers, Ino, Tenten weapons shop, Beta strain.”

“Correct. Come on back once you’ve delivered the message.”

Higuma nodded, and dashed away.

---

Akari watched with wide eyes as the Weapons Mistress (Neji-sensei’s wife, probably) carried an unconscious Tomoe back into the shop through the back door, laying her down on a small table before moving out of sight in the doorway.

Neji-sensei, meanwhile, had picked up the various weapons the woman had removed and was starting towards the shop himself. “You can come in too if you wish, Akari.”

She followed him in, clutching her tessen- which she already loved, even if they weren’t what she was expecting to get- and peering around nosily at the back of the store. It was slightly smaller than the front part, with crates on shelves containing common shinobi weapons, and another section leading further down to the left with a sign saying “SPECIALIZED.” There was a door directly to the right that read “SMITHY”, and another door at the edge of the room that was unlabeled, but presumably led to the front of the shop.

Tomoe, on the table- which was greasy with oil and who-knows-what from all the weapon-ing that occurred in the shop- twitched slightly, her eyes fluttering. As far as Akari could tell, she’d been knocked out with some sedative, and probably an unusual one because Tomoe was weirdly immune to the common ones they’d learned about in the academy.

(To be fair, a lot of senior chunin and most jonin were immune to the common tranquilizers, but that was a combination of specific training against them and the build up of the body’s natural defense after being poisoned with them enough times. But Tomoe was a genin and barely batted an eye the day they’d all been tripped with the slightest amounts to make them understand and identify the effects.)

Tomoe opened her eyes fully and glared at Akari. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered, then passed out again. 

Presumably, she wasn’t referring to Akari as the son or the bitch in that phrase, but Akari sniffed and put on an offended face anyway. After a moment, she glanced over at the Weapons Mistress and Neji-sensei, who had given the woman back her weapons and was now standing close to her, tilting his head down to look at her as they spoke quietly. Feeling a little awkward, Akari looked at Tomoe again. She had drool running down the side of her mouth.

After their conversation, the woman turned and walked briskly out the door to the main part of the shop. Neji-sensei turned to Akari.

“Tomoe will be fine after a few minutes, and we’re having a poison and antidote specialist come along to monitor her progress just in case. Would you like anything to eat?”

“Uh, um, no thank you.”

“Very well. Stay here with her for a moment, please.” He followed after the Weapons Mistress.

Akari lingered awkwardly by Tomoe’s side for a few moments before reaching out to poke her. She didn’t respond. 

Instantly bored, Akari started looking around the room in earnest, now that she was unsupervised. There was a large whiteboard on one wall that had order forms pinned to it, organized into sections presumably based on their status of completion. There was a calendar just next to it with bright red notes scrawled on certain dates- some of them were the dates for order pick-ups, but there was one written in bold handwriting that said “HUI NA’S BIRTHDAY ♥️♥️♥️”- whoever that was.

Akari’s wandering attention led her to the specialized weaponry section, and she peered nosily up at a few of the more intricate pieces- they were very interesting and shiny.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Akari thought wildly for a moment about rushing over to her teammate’s side to pretend she wasn’t snooping- but then she decided she didn’t care, and just turned to look at who came through the door.

It was the girl from earlier, struggling a little with the weapons from earlier all loaded into one crate. She met Akari’s gaze with a polite smile and said, “Do you mind helping me put these away?”

“Sure.” Akari crossed to the door and grabbed the other side of the crate, then they hefted it over to the common weapons shelf and started filing them into place.

“I’m Akari, by the way.” She told the girl cheerfully, running her thumb over the edge of a kunai that had a chip out of it.

“Oh, I-! I, um, already know. Hui Na,” the girl introduced herself. She smiled a little shyly up at her, and Akari felt her own smile widen- she was cute. 

“Are you in the Academy, Hui Na-chan?” The girl immediately flushed at being addressed in such a way, but her smile remained genuine.

“Yes. I’ll graduate in three years.”

“Cool! What kind of jutsu do you like to do?” She didn’t ask wha jutsu Hui Na was good at- experience had led her to ask about people’s interests, rather than their skills, because usually it made them like her more. If people wanted to brag, they would. And if they were like Higuma, they’d talk about how cool Nara-senpai was instead of talking about themselves at all.

(Which was so stupid- Higuma wasn’t cool, obviously, but he was smart and funny in a sarcastic and somewhat macarbe way. He needed to be more confident in what he did.)

“I’m pretty good at the Hyuga Clan jutsu- at least the ones I’ve been allowed to learn- and I really like using nunchucks, like Lee-ojisan.”

“Wow, I bet you’re really good with them if your mom’s the Weapons Mistress!” It was a bit of a gamble, to assume that she was, in fact, Neji-sensei’s and the Weapons Mistress’ daughter, but it paid off when the younger girl smiled in delight, her serious expression changing completely.

“Well,” she giggled a little, “Really, mom gets a little bored with nunchucks, since she mastered them ages ago- she likes swords a lot, though, and she’s been trying to collect all the legendary swords of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist for years now.”

“Huh! Any luck?” 

“Of course not- most of them are in Kirigakure, and it’s not like they’re going to give them up. But mom’s really stubborn and everytime Baba tries to point out that she won’t get them, she gets all pouty.”

Akari snorted at the image of Neji-sensei trying to placate his wife. Seems like he had a little practice before he had to deal with two sulky genin- not her, of course, she was a star pupil.

Thinking about her teammates made her remember Tomoe, still lying prone on the table, and she turned to look. Yep, unconscious.

“So what’d she stick Tomoe with, then? She’s immune to a lot of stuff, so it’s pretty impressive that it worked so fast and so well.”

“I’m not sure. She and my auntie Ino develop and test new poisons together, so it could be a lot of things. But mom wouldn’t have used anything that would hurt her.”

Hui Na put the last kunai into place with a little clink, then stood back up. Akari grinned at the still-shy look she gave her from behind her hair.

Aw, sensei’s daughter is so CUTE!

There were voices sounding down the hall- two women, from the sounds of it. The Weapons Mistress came in first, looking moody, and a few paces behind her was the head of T&I, poison expert, special jounin, goddamn leader of the Yamanaka Clan, Ino Yamanaka.

Wait- Hui Na had called her auntie Ino- was she that close to her?

Akari’s head was spinning with new information- sensei was married to and had kids with the Weapons Mistress of Konoha, was friends with the leader of the Akimichi clan, and his kids considered the head of freaking Torture and Interrogation as an aunt.

Yamanaka-sama gave Akari an appraising look with a friendly smile, which broadened into a beam when she looked at Hui Na. “Hey sweetie!”

“Hi, auntie.” Hui Na’s tone remained as steady and calm as ever, but she bounced up and down on her feet a few times in excitement.

Yamanaka smiled at her a few seconds longer before turning to Tomoe. “Seriously, Tenten, you just left her back here…?”

The Weapons Mistress muttered churlishly in reply, too soft to be heard, and the two women descended into quiet conversation. After a moment, the Weapons Mistress turned to Akari and Hui Na, watching mutely, and said, “Why don’t the two of you head up front? Higuma is there, probably dying of awkwardness as your dad tries to prove how wise a sensei he is.”

Hui Na laughed- and Akari couldn’t get over how much her expression changed, from quiet seriousness to pure joy- and told her mother, “All right. Good luck, auntie!”

“Thanks, baby. I’ll see you for your lessons tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Hui Na bobbed up and down one more time, then turned and obediently trotted out the door. Akari gave a little wave to the women and followed her.

The hallway was quite short, leading past one other tiny room filled with weaponry before reaching the storefront. Just as the Weapons Mistress had predicted, Neji-sensei was looking as serious as ever as he spoke quietly and intensely to Higuma, who fiddled listlessly with his new chakra knife while looking generally miserable. 

Haruki-chan was sitting on the floor with his little feet turned out, playing with his cat figurine. When the two girls came in, he gave Hui Na a delighted grin but kept playing.

Neji-sensei paused in his conversation with Higuma. “How’s Tomoe?”

“Auntie Ino didn’t say,” Hui Na said, crossing to where he stood at the counter and plopping down in the seat. She tucked herself against his side, and he reached up and ran his hand over her head.

Akari turned away, feeling slightly uncomfortable to be privy to the private moment, and her gaze met that of Higuma. “Hi, Higuma.”

“Hi,” he said glumly. She scowled at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“If I knew that, then-”

“Ugh. Shut up, Higuma. You’re a perfectly decent shinobi but your attitude makes me tired.”

He sputtered, finally looking a little more fiery, and she nodded once in satisfaction. She swiveled to her sensei and chirped, “Anything else for us to do, Neji-sensei?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, and she realized too late that they were doomed.

---

Tomoe woke up and immediately shot a fist up in the air to punch the face staring down at her.

The face cursed, startled, but swatted her hand away with ease. Then it said, “Tomoe-san. So glad you’re up.”

Tomoe rocked up to a sitting position, glaring at the face- which turned out to be Hyuga-sensei’s wife. The psychopath.

It was all the worse that the woman had defeated her so thoroughly, in such a fuckin’ awesome way. Now her rage was mixed with deep respect, which was way too confusing. 

She fixed her glare to the other woman in the room, who was blindingly blonde and statuesque. She gave Tomoe a smile that was nothing short of dazzling and said, “Oh, goodie! The strain lasted just as long as it was supposed to for your body weight. I think we’re ready for the next phase of testing.” All of which was said like Tomoe was supposed to understand it.

Instead, she just scowled and took a look at her surroundings- the back of the store, it looked like, with shelves of weapons all the way up to the ceiling. It smelled like fireworks- and when she saw the sign that read “SMITHY”, it made sense.

She turned to Tenten. “Do you make all the weapons yourself?”

“Not always. I import stuff like kunai and senbon, then just refine them and add my insignia. The special orders I usually forge myself.”

Tomoe watched her for a moment more, then grunted and looked away again. She refused to like the woman, even if she seemed smart and interesting.

“Where’s Hyuga-sensei and the genin?”

There was a pause, and the Tenten said, in a carefully controlled voice, “You know you’re a genin too.” Tomoe looked over at her, brow pursed at her tone of voice, and scowled when she saw the woman fighting back laughter.

“I’m above their level. Where are they?”

“Out front in the shop,” the blonde woman said. She reached out, and before Tomoe could snap at her, injected her with something. Tomoe snarled, hackles raising, and the blonde told her “That’ll help fight any residual nausea and dizziness. You’ll be back to normal within an hour.”

Tomoe glowered. “I’m leaving.” She swung her legs over the bench and trudged to the door that must’ve led to the shop front, pointedly not looking back at either woman. 

The door didn’t even slam behind her. Damn it all.

She opened the door to the storefront with a loud bang that made her feel a little better, then stopped short at the sight of Higuma, Akari, and Hyuga-sensei’s daughter busily polishing all the weapons on the shelves. For his part, Hyuga-sensei was reading quietly while his son fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

Everyone (except the sleeping toddler) turned to look at her when she came in. Embarrassed, she snapped, “What?” 

Akari rolled her eyes and turned away, Higuma made a face like she was being unreasonable, and Hyuga-sensei’s kid twitched her shoulders and pinched up her entire face before jerking around to face her work again.

When Tomoe turned to look at her sensei, he was watching his daughter with a blank expression on his face that didn’t change one bit when his gaze met Tomoe’s, but still somehow became terrifyingly oppressive.

She actually sighed in relief when he looked away again. He stood, hoisting the kid in his arms, and said, “Hui Na, come here for a moment.”

The girl put aside her rag and followed him into the back hallway. Akari and Higuma instantly whipped around to face her, both pale, and Akari hissed, “What-did-you-do-”

“Nothing!” She scream-whispered back. 

“Clearly you did something, I’ve NEVER seen sensei like that-”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP LET’S JUST FINISH CLEANING ALL THE WEAPONS OFF FOR HIS WIFE AND THEN MAYBE WE CAN LEAVE WITHOUT HIM KILLING US.” Higuma, somehow, came through as the voice of reason, and after scowling at each other for a few seconds more Tomoe and Akari began working again.

They worked in silence for ten minutes before Hyuga-sensei came back into the room. He gave them all a slight smile and said, “That should be sufficient, thank you. Shall we go to lunch? I will pay for it-”

Akari didn’t even let him finish his offer before she threw her arms up in the air with a gleeful “YES!” Her polishing rag smacked into the ceiling, clung for a bit, then came back down. She snatched it out of the air with a sheepish look.

They all ignored her, quite used to the theatrics, and Higuma nodded to Hyuga-sensei’s offer. 

“Tennie, we’re going to lunch,” Hyuga-sensei called back to his wife.

“Don’t call me that!” She hollered back. She sounded a little flustered, and they all gaped, incredulous, as Hyuga-sensei grinned to himself- outright grinned. 

Fucking Akari let out a little sigh, like she was swooning, and that snapped Tomoe out of it pretty quick. She didn’t need to hear the dumbass mooning over Hyuga-sensei’s good looks again- because she didn’t fucking care about his dimple and never fucking WOULD, Akari.

Their sensei looked back at the door. “Ino, would you like to walk with us?”

“Sure!” She yelled back. “Just a minute!”

They waited in silence for a bit, then suddenly the door rocketed open and Hyuga-sensei’s son bawled out, “BABA, I WANT TO COME TOOOOOOO!”

He looked like he was on the verge of tears, and all the genin immediately took a step back from him. 

Hyuga-sensei’s expression went all soft again, and he said gently, “That’s fine, Haruki-chan, but weren’t you going to help your mama in the store?”

The kid thought hard for a second, then said, “I want to go too more than I want to stay here today.”

Tomoe squinted her eyes at him, trying to decipher his complicated toddler nonsense-speak. Hyuga-sensei just smiled and held out his hand.

The kid booked it over, seizing his father’s hand and chattering happily.“Tell mama,” Hyuga-sensei told him softly. 

“MAMA!”

“WHAT?”

“I’M GOIN’ WITH BABA TO EAAAAAAAT!”

“OKAY! HAVE FUN LOVE BUG!”

“OKAY!”

Silence for a few blessed moments, then another voice. “Waaaait, Baba!”

“Yes?” Thank fuck, Hyuga-sensei and his other kid seemed to be less of the hollering type, and more of the ‘speak at the exact volume needed to be heard’ type.

“Can I come too?”

“Of course, little bird.”

"WAIIIT, THEN WHO WILL SPEND TIME WITH ME IN THE STOOOOORE?" The Weapons Mistress again.

“MEEEEE!”

“PISS OFF, INO!”

There was some raucous cackling, then the blonde woman came through the door, still laughing. The kid followed a few steps behind, smiling down at the ground.

“BYE, TENNIE!” Blondie bellowed.

“SHUT UP!”

“Bye, Tennie,” their sensei echoed.

“I- don’t call me that!” Her tone had gone from annoyed to flustered again, and Tomoe rolled her eyes. What, like her husband was all that? Seriously.

“Y’all cute,” Blondie told Hyuga-sensei. 

“Thank you.”

The door opened- again, fucking hell- and Tenten came in, looking sulky. “If no one is staying, then I’m going to lunch too.”

“Yay!” The toddler shrieked.

This was the worst day of Tomoe’s life. 

Wordlessly she pushed out the door and started walking towards Ichiraku’s, not even really caring if they followed her or not. She had money.

To her (expertly hidden) surprise, Higuma caught up to her a few seconds later, walking in silence at her side as the flock of people behind them loudly and chaotically got themselves sorted out. He looked glum, but she couldn’t be fucked about it.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He eyed her nervously. “What?”

“What’s wrong with you, dipshit?”

“Nothin’.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and ignored him again.

Behind them, Tenten had put her hysterically laughing toddler on her shoulders and was playfully biting at his legs. What the fuck.

The girl was listening intently to Akari as she talked her head off- seriously, she didn’t know how the kid did it, because Akari was the most annoying person in the world and she was staring up at her like she was made of gold.

Hyuga-sensei and Blondie were walking side by side at the back of the herd, talking. The woman was ridiculously tall, with a good couple centimeters on their sensei- who was by no means a short man. This was a weird day.

She got to Ichiraku’s and settled into a chair. Higuma sat next to her, which was irritating, and Akari sat on his other side. Hyuga-sensei sat next to Tomoe, and his wife ushered the two kids into the seats on his other side, with her on the end.

Blondie just yelled goodbye as she kept walking, then said something that stopped the genin in their tracks. 

“Oh, hey, Naruto! Playing hooky again?”

“Hi Ino!” The fucking Hokage was genuinely bouncing in his seat to see the woman. “Aw man, and Neji and Tenten too! Lucky timing for me!”

“Hello, Naruto,” their sensei said in a measured tone. Tenten just waved distractedly at him as she tried to settle the toddler in the seat, because the kid was basically trying to run across the counter to get to-

“Naruto-ojisan! Hi, hi, hi!”

“Sit down, love bug!”

“Mama, it’s Naruto-ojisan! HI!”

“I know, sweetling. But we gotta sit to eat, okay?”

“Okay,” the kid said, looking terribly sad.

The Hokage had been talking to Blondie, but she departed with a slap on his back and he turned to face them all. 

“HARUKI-CHAN! How’s it going, buddy?”

“GOOD!” The kid launched to his feet again and went off talking a mile a minute, and the Hokage seemed entirely engrossed- except for when he gave Hyuga-sensei’s daughter a huge grin and a hair ruffle when she wordlessly went over to sit down next to him.

When Tomoe was able to turn away from the golden, radiant presence and tune back into her other surroundings, Hyuga-sensei had already ordered all of their usual food and was watching over them with an amused smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Naruto is a long-time friend,” he told them quietly.

“And cousin-in-law, honey,” his wife called to him, a glitter in her eyes. 

He sighed, looking a little more annoyed. “...That too.”

“What the fuck, sensei.”

Tomoe had been thinking those very words so intensely in her head that it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t the one who said them.

They all turned to stare at Higuma, who was going steadily redder. “Uh. Sorry.”

“Seriously, Higuma!” Akari reprimanded. “He’s right though,” she told Hyuga-sensei. 

Much to their surprise, Hyuga-sensei laughed, tilting his head back a little. “It’s too bad you and Ino didn’t get to spend more time together,” he told Akari. “Another day, perhaps.”

Akari looked both thrilled and terrified at the very prospect.

Teuchi slid their bowls in front of them, and they all rustled around hastily for the chopsticks. Tenten had given up trying to contain the toddler, and let him run (on the ground) to go sit next to the Hokage as well. She slid into the spot next to her husband, running her hand over his shoulder blade as she did and then leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Hyuga-sensei held his chopsticks over his bowl and murmured, his gaze focused elsewhere, “Thank you for the food.”

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #19: V5R93

(Content Warning: This chapter contains brief descriptions of gun violence and gore)

The quiet of the forest was broken by hurried footsteps, and the frantic crunch of leaves and twigs. One figure darted through the brush, alone, naked and afraid. Silence followed them, followed by several more that tore through the brush and vegetation with the heavy clumping of their boots.

A flock of birds burst from the treetops, scattering in the commotion. The figures did not stop, and the bare one, tall and lanky, panted as they leapt a log and nearly tripped, glancing over their shoulder as they did.

*”V5R93!”* The troops called out in that distorted, mechanical voice. *”Stop!”*

V5R93 straightened up, squared his shoulders, and took off running as fast as his long legs would carry him, all the while chastising himself. Berating himself. He had become sloppy.

He slid to a stop at the foot of a towering gray cliff extending on either side. It took only a moment for him to survey the area and realize there was no way around this thing, only up. As V5R93 dove for the cliff, intending to begin his climb, he felt the sharp pinch of the bullets of a gun striking him in the back.

At first, he felt nothing, his limbs simply stopped working as he lost all control of his body and fell to the ground. Then the pain began to erupt like blossoms from the wounds in his chest and his back, and the two guards approached him, their guns still drawn. He gazed up at them, black eyes pleading for some kind of mercy.

*”Damned Sectoids”* They said, cocked their guns, and fired again.

.

.

Kon-Mai smiled as she looked over the clothes she had dressed her brothers in that day. Clothes she had made herself; good enough to rival any ADVENT clothing store, that was sure. They had to make a good impression, and she was certain they would.

Her own outfit was one that distinctly outlined her feminine features, while still maintaining her authoritative (and terrifying) air. Her waist-high pants were made out of a strong, denim mix of deep magenta cloth and made it so she could bend her knees easily, lest she need to pick up her sword and fight. Her shirt, while a turtleneck, hugged her figure, the part of her Abyzou had always told her to be proud of. And right now, she has to admit, she was proud, although no thanks to her ‘mother’. With her hair braided into several cornrows down her neck and a bit of purple lip tint, she felt very beautiful.

The Avenger had landed just outside of Kanab, Utah. Along the dusty ground, almost untouched by time, bones and tracks of ancient creatures lay scattered like a circle of protection. Tygan had shown her pictures of these beasts, and they rivaled some of the creatures the Elders possessed. These “Dinosaurs” were great scaled monsters, larger than the Avenger itself. Some swam in the water, devouring anything in their path, some ruled the land and reigned terror on those who crossed them. And some, though large, were peaceful, even cute. She liked those beasts.

From the distance, she could see the groups of soldiers beginning to arrive. Some had vehicles with them, but most were traveling on foot, carrying only what they had on their backs. Most were human, but from the sunlight across the sand, she could see a familiar face.

Kon-Mai’s eyes widened upon recognizing him. “Savitr?”

“Hm?” Gur-Rai looked up from the stick he was using to draw in the sand. His outfit was one she had taken care to make much more durable, and she had good reason: he had already gotten it dirty. The polo shirt was slightly big around his scrawny middle, but his leather pants hugged his bony hips perfectly and accented what little features he did have.The scarf he wore around his head to cover his baldness was also made of very durable Polyester. Kon-Mai prided herself on this endeavor. 

“That Skirmisher.” She nodded towards the group of them. “I know him.”

“Which one?” Gur-Rai asked. “He looks like every other bitch.”

“We cannot all be blue, Brother.” Dhar-Mon sighed, once again smoothing down the jacket Kon-Mai made for him. It was light pink, matching the color of his eyes, and had some synthetic fur around the collar, making it look a bit like a Skirmishers cloak. The design on the back had taken hours to embroider, but the intricate wheel symbol had come out stunningly, and made it so Dhar-Mon adored that coat most of all. Of course, it was also made for cold weather, so the poor man was sweating in it out here, but he refused to take it off, citing the fact that he wanted to show off his sister’s hard work.

Gur-Rai squinted against the sun, actually trying to get a look at the man. He didn’t need to, however, as when Savitr saw Kon-Mai as well, he waved to her.

She raised a hand in return. “That one.”

“Oh…” Gur-Rai bared his teeth a bit. “You let me know if he gets too close.”

“If he does, I can handle myself.” Kon-Mai insisted with a scoff.

“Yeah, I said the same thing once…” Gur-Rai seemed to freeze, falling very quiet, and Dhar-Mon put a hand on his brother’s back.

“I am sure this man means our sister no harm.” He said. “And in any case, it appears he will be joining us on the Avenger. He will be our teammate.”

As the group began to congregate outside the doors, the Chosen heard footsteps behind them, and turned to allow Senuna herself to pass by. She beamed like the sun, stepping off the dock to greet the oncoming soldiers on ground level.

“Welcome, soldiers of XCOM.” She clapped, and the others followed her in a cheer that echoed through the mountains. “I see many familiar faces in the crowd, as well as many new ones! Some of you have been on board the Avenger, seen her in her glory, but for many of you this will be your first time seeing the real war.” Her smile faded. “And I warn you, this task shall not be easy. We will ask much of you here, and expect you to perform accordingly. We cannot afford to falter, not now.” Her smile returned. “But to those of you who take on this challenge, you will receive the greatest of all rewards: your home, safely returned to you.”

Another cheer went up, and Kon-Mai met Savitr’s golden eyes. He smiled slightly when he saw her, and she nodded in return.

“As you can see, the war is going well!” Senuna giggled. “I’m sure you didn’t miss the three blue giants standing behind me, some of you may even recognize them!” She gestured to the three Chosen. “These three are not here as our prisoners, but as our friends. For you see, soldiers, like the Skirmishers you fight beside, the Chosen have also cast off the yoke of the Elders, and now fight for freedom, justice, and humanity!”

Gur-Rai let out a whoop, which stirred the crowd into another cheer. At this point, the human soldiers seemed to be over the shock of seeing the Chosen. Those who were not looked at them in awe, like the humans in the city centers had…

Kon-Mai straightened her back and clasped her hands, trying to look as majestic as she could. Her eyes danced to Savitr once again, and she saw he had not looked away.

“With this incredible advantage, I’d hasten to say that by the end of this year, if not the next, this war will be OVER!” Senuna raised her arms. “The Elders will fall to us! We will regain our home!”

Home...Kon-Mai’s mind lingered on that word.

.

.

After the speech came the extremely tedious task of checking everyone in, unloading cargo, reloading cargo, discharging soldiers that were getting off here, etc etc. And of course, the Chosen had been voluntold to help with that.

Kon-Mai was at the check in station, assigning each soldier their rank and place on the Avenger and handing them little makeshift name tags as she checked their names off of colorful boxes on a piece of paper. Gur-Rai and Dhar-Mon were helping the burlier soldiers load the resupply onto the Avenger’s cargo deck, Dhar-Mon having taken off his jacket so as to not tear the fabric.

In the hullabaloo, Kon-Mai nearly missed him, but as a shadow fell over her, she looked up to those familiar eyes.

“Savitr Vallinor.” She said, smiling almost against her will.

“Sergeant Mordenna.” He bowed. “It will be an honor to serve under you.”

“Under me?” She chuckled, writing down his name.

“I mean...if we do get assigned to any missions together. Hypothetically, it will be an honor.” Savitr’s peachy skin turned orange as he blushed.

She chuckled and handed him his tag. “Go inside, Vallinor.”

“Yes, Mordenna.” He bowed deeply to her and passed the table, towards the Avenger and where his sisters waited for him. Kon-Mai followed him with her eyes for a moment, until she heard a snicker beside her.

She looked at where Princess sat beside her, the purple-haired girl giggling like a child. “What is the matter with you?”

“You were getting flirted with~” Princess cooed.

Kon-Mai scoffed. “Can I not acknowledge another warrior’s presence?”

“You couldn’t tell? Damn you’re clueless.” Princess scoffed. “He’s got eyes for you.”

“You are simply imagining things.” Kon-Mai shook her head. Still, the words lingered on her mind. WAS he interested in her romantically? What did it mean if he was?

She looked back at Savitr. This time, his attention was turned to his sister Nitocris, who seemed to be looking around in clueless excitement at the sight of the Avenger.

They were alike, she acknowledged. He cared for his sisters like she did her brothers. But she had never seen him in the field besides the brief, very boring patrol they’d been on together. She did not know him. How could she love someone she did not know?

Kon-Mai turned back to her task at hand. She decided to shelve the thought until further notice.

.

.

Gur-Rai straightened up, stretching his back, which was growing sore from the constant heavy lifting. He looked around at the people working around him, his brother still loading cargo the size of trucks like it was literally nothing. The Avenger would be well stocked after this, with soldiers and supplies.

He put his hands on his hips and kicked the dirt, looking to where the medical tent was. As one of the soldiers exited and another entered, Gur-Rai could see Malinalli inside the tent, giving physicals to oncoming soldiers and checking off those who were going on shore leave. She stopped for a moment, her pen hovering above her clipboard, and then began writing again, slowly.

Gur-Rai furrowed his brow, a smirk growing on his lips. He dusted off his hands and traipsed over to her, pushing aside the tent flap and poking his head in. “Hello, Molly.”

“Darkstrider, I’m with a patient.” Malinalli hissed pointing to a Skirmisher woman who was sitting on the table, her hands resting over the very noticeable bump in her stomach.

Gur-Rai nodded to her and looked over the medic again. “Need help?”

Malinalli looked annoyed. “Um...not really.”

“Well, Commander said to help you, so you have to give me something to do.” He smiled as that lie passed right over his teeth, and straightened up...slamming his head into the top of the tent pole. Okay, he deserved that one.

Malinalli looked skeptical, but she sighed and looked around for something to give him. Her hand grabbed a plastic bag full of clear fluid and she handed it to him. “Go out into the woods and dump that somewhere.”

“What is it?”

“Saline, I didn’t mix it right, so it’s basically useless. It needs to be disposed of, a tree or bush should do the trick.”

“Molly, are you trying to get rid of me?” Gur-Rai smirked.

Malinalli smiled like she was about to crack. “Oh no, Gur-Rai, of course not. Now please, go.”

Gur-Rai bowed and exited the tent, hearing Malinalli telling the woman inside “Okay, I’m gonna send you up to Tygan for an ultrasound, but from the test results…”

Her voice trailed off, and Gur-Rai passed the ever shortening line of people waiting to be checked into the Avenger database. He waved at his sister, who was still in charge of making name tags, and walked off into the deep green darkness of the woods.

The noise and chatter began to fade away as he slipped into the quiet green, and Gur-Rai took a deep breath. All of his senses were sharpened out here. He could see through the darkness as clear as a crystal. His skin prickled with the slight dampness of the air, and he inhaled deeply, tasting the faint electricity on the air. No doubt his own psionic ability was tainting it slightly. Damn the Elders for giving him the Big Think…

He traveled deeper into the woods, the trees growing in size and the sky growing dim behind their massive leaves. His skin tingled with the feeling that something was in here with him, his hunter’s instinct on full alert. It was exhilarating.

The forest finally gave way to a clearing, bordered by a silver cliff with jagged rocks that looked quite menacing in the dim light. Supposing that this was as good a place as any, Gur-Rai poked a hole in the bag with his sharp nail and let the water drain out by a nearby tree. As the bag emptied slowly, he looked around the dark clearing, his eyes drinking in the surrounding green and purple and pink vegetation…

Wait, pink?

Gur-Rai dropped the bag and made his way over to the brush at the base of the cliff, the prickling of psionic energy dancing on his bare arms and face. He hesitated, drawing Darkclaw and clutching it tightly as he pulled back the brush...

“Well, well, well.” He mused. “Look at you.”

A Sectoid lay in the brush, bare and exposed, with its back to Gur-Rai and it’s face in the dirt. At the sound of his voice, the Sectoid seemed to startle, and grabbed at the mud to drag itself away.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Gur-Rai twirled his gun on his finger. “Goodness, I should tell the Commander that the soldiers need more practice. That many bullet holes? You should be de-” He broke off, his eyes moving to the Sectoid’s finger as it scratched something into the dirt. Curious, Gur-Rai knelt down.

H-E-L-P

His eyebrows shot up. Sectoids, at least the ones he knew, didn’t know how to speak any human languages, and they CERTAINLY didn’t know how to write in any. And yet, he watched as this Sectoid used it’s clawed finger to slowly spell out “Help Me” in the dirt.

Gur-Rai took the Sectoid’s face in his hand and tilted it towards him. “Hey you. Can you understand me? Can you understand the words I’m saying right now?”

The Sectoid nodded, softly, then their face twisted up in pain and they clutched the dirt again, groaning in agony.

“...Who did this?” Gur-Rai asked. “Who hurt you? Was it XCOM?”

The grasping hand, shaking from pain, drew one long line, then two short ones on either side, the symbol for the Elders. For ADVENT.

Gur-Rai stood. “Stay right here. Well, I guess you’re not gonna go anywhere. I should say, don’t die before I get back.” He took off into a sprint, disappearing into the trees once again.

.

.

Gur-Rai poked his head back into Malinalli’s tent, where this time Lothar was helping her hold down a patient as she worked to pull a piece of shrapnel from a very old-looking wound in a man’s shoulder. “Hey. Molly.” Gur-Rai snapped. “I need your help.”

“I’m a little busy.” Malinalli grunted. “What do you need?”

“There’s a Sectoid in the woods.”

The two medics froze, and Malinalli turned to Gur-Rai with a look of horror. “Is this an ambush?!”

“Probably not, it’s just the one and it’s injured pretty bad.”

“So…” She looked at him funny. “You...want me to come see a dying Sectoid?”

“Yep. You’re a doctor, you’ll know what to do.”

“Technically I’m a nurse…” She muttered with a sigh. “And I have human patients. They take priority.”

“Human patients? Molly, that’s pretty racist~” Gur-Rai grinned, his sharp teeth flashing.

“I didn’t mean that!” She cried. “I’m not-!”

“Well if that’s true, you’ll come help the poor wounded Sectoid, won’t you?” Gur-Rai batted his nonexistent eyelashes.

Malinalli sighed long and hard, looking very tired. “Um...Lothar can you-”

“I got it, Molly. Go see the Sectoid.” He took the pliers from her, and she followed Gur-Rai out of the forest and into the woods.

.

.

Senuna wiped at a smudge on the Avenger’s window. From her quarters, she could see around the back on the ship, where cargo was diligently being loaded. There was the Hieromonk, his long white hair pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes as he worked. So dutifully he obeyed commands, so eagerly did he complete any task assigned him.

It made her old heart hurt, and she sighed, leaning against the window.

Her door opened, and she looked over expecting to see Bradford or Jane. But it was Zhang she saw instead, walking slowly with a cane. She smiled at the sight of him: she’d already been chastised for calling him “Old Man,” but the idea was so funny to her. He’d never seemed old to her before.

“I should be the one walking with a cane, Colonel~” She giggled as she stood up. “What’s wrong? You look nauseous.”

Zhang refrained from speaking for a moment until she gestured for him to sit. Only when he did, he finally opened his mouth. “The soldiers outside are…”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “Right. You weren’t here for that. They’re called Skirmishers.”

“They look like ADVENT.” He said quietly.

“Yes, they do.” She nodded. “Your point?”

His hand went to his chest, where the staples were still embedded in his skin from the wounds he’d sustained. Senuna saw this, and sighed.

“They didn’t torture you, Chilong.”

“They look like the ones who did.” He protested, albeit calmly. “I know I am being unreasonable, Senuna. But I doubt how effective I’ll be in combat alongside these...hybrids.”

Senuna blinked slowly. “...Technically I’m a hybrid.”

“That’s different.” He said. “You’re different.”

“How am I different?” She asked. “More powerful? Are you afraid of me, Chilong?”

“You look human, Sunny.” He finally admitted.

“That’s only because I got lucky.” She stood up. “Do I, yet again, need to tell you where this body came from?”

“Are you implying you found out?” It was Zhang’s turn to chuckle, at Senuna’s discomfort.

She looked away. “Exactly, Chilong. Don’t act like I’m better than them just because I look ‘right’. In a lot of ways, I am much worse.”

There was an awkward silence between the two for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” Zhang relented. “This is not a subject I should joke about. I know how much it hurts you.”

“No.” Senuna insisted. “I’m sorry ADVENT did this to you. I’m sorry they took you. It was my decision that cost us this war, and it was my decision to send you into enemy territory.”

“No it wasn’t, Sunny. I made the choice to go behind enemy lines. I was determined to save you.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t gone after Dante, in fact if I hadn’t let them take him in the first place...” She stopped, her voice cracking, and shook her head. “Do you...want to leave the Avenger?”

The silence in response made her nerves go into a panic, and Senuna looked up just as Zhang sighed.

“How much use am I to you like this?” He muttered. “An old, broken man, a shadow of who I was. To let me go would only bring good things.”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Senuna circled her desk and plopped down on the couch beside him, pulling him into a tight hug and only loosening her grip when he winced out in pain.

“Sunny.” He wrapped his arms around her as well. “Please don’t be upset. I don’t like to see you cry.”

“Chilong, I’ve lost so much.” She whispered. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

He hesitated. “If I want to go, Sunny, will you stop me?”

She was eerily quiet, then finally, “How could I? If that’s...what you want.” She pulled away. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy…”

He smiled, and ran a hand through her silver hair. “I will stay, Sunny. If that is what makes you happy.”

.

.

Malinalli jogged alongside Gur-Rai, her little legs struggling to keep up with what, to him, was a slow pace. “Slow down!” She cried. “I’m out of shape.”

“So is my brother, and I wouldn't wait for him~” Gur-Rai chuckled.

“That’s a lie.” Malinalli smirked. “You’d absolutely wait for him. Right?”

Gur-Rai fell silent.

“I think it’s sweet.” She added. “You love your siblings so much. You put on this asshole persona but you’re really just-”

“Over here.” Gur-Rai cut in. “In this clearing.”

Malinalli bent down and picked up the empty saline bag. “Over here?”

“No, over here.” Gur-Rai parted the brush. “Hello there. Still alive? ...Good! I brought help!” He waved her over.

Malinalli came over and braced herself. At first she thought the Sectoid was dead, until she noticed the very slight movement of its body with each breath. There were bullet holes all throughout its back, and the ants had already begun swarming its body.

“Oh…” She said, her heart sinking. She got down on her knees beside the Sectoid. “He...she...um...they…” She looked it over. “What do you want me to call you?”

The Sectoid made a motion with it’s mouth.

“Hm? He?”

The Sectoid nodded.

Malinalli began to pull her tools from her belt. “Gur-Rai, can you turn him over?”

“Yeah.” He knelt down beside the Sectoid and began to slide his hands under him. It was then the Sectoid let out a cry of pain, startling both XCOM agents and sending Malinalli scampering back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Gur-Rai stopped, his hands still under the Sectoid. “I‘m gonna go slow, okay? Let me know when you’re ready…”

The Sectoid remained still for a moment. Then with the tiniest movement of his head, he nodded. Slowly, Gur-Rai slid his arms the rest of the way under him and pulled him towards his chest, and the Sectoid gasped as he rolled over in Gur-Rai’s arms. The Chosen adjusted his grip and began to lay him down, but the Sectoid caught his arm, as if pleading him not to move.

“You wanna stay here?” Gur-Rai nodded. “Okay. Molly, can you work like this?”

“It’s better” She picked up her tiny scanner and began to wave it over the holes in the Sectoid’s chest. “...These were ADVENT guns…”

Gur-Rai nodded silently. The Sectoid in his arms whimpered uncomfortably.

“Almost done, hon. You’re doing great.” Malinalli said softly. “Okay…” She smiled. “Okay. Not as bad as I had thought…” She looked up at Gur-Rai. “Still bad though.”

“How bad?”

“Punctured lung is the worst one…” She pressed a few buttons on the scanner picture. “This thing is so slow, sorry. One of his Psytocrean glands looks like it’s ruptured, the one across from the Taux Filter.”

Gur-Rai nodded, his blank stare conveying he had no idea what she was saying.

“My point is, if it’s ruptured it’s probably bleeding cytotoxins into his body, and that’s bad.” She pulled an emergency blanket from another pocket, the tin-foil texture crinkling as she shook it out. “Let’s protect him from the hypothermia, at least.” She said as she wrapped the blanket around the Sectoid. “You got a name, hon?”

The Sectoid moved his lips, but barely any sound came out. Seeing the two staring at him blankly, the Sectoid seemed to huff and reached out towards the ground again, his sharp fingernail began to carve the shapes into the loose dirt while Malinalli and Gur-Rai watched intently.

“V…” Malinalli squinted. “Is that a 5?”

“I think it’s an E.” Gur-Rai said. “V-E-R...9-E?”

“Why is there a random 9?” She asked.

“Maybe it’s supposed to be a g.” He nodded. “So, that spells Verge.”

“Verge?” Malinalli furrowed her brow. “Are you sure it’s not Virgil?”

“He wrote it, Molly.” Gur-Rai shrugged, standing up with Verge wrapped up like a burrito in his arms. “In any case, let’s worry about names when he’s not-”

“-dying. Yeah.” She stood up and pressed a button on her comm link. “Hey Tygan? I have another patient for you.”

.

.

When they showed up at camp again, they attracted a lot of attention. People seemed to stop their conversations to look over at the two agents bringing a tin-foil wrapped Sectoid toward the Avenger. Gur-Rai kept his back straight and his eyes ahead, letting his posture speak for him. Malinalli, on the other hand, seemed to shrink inward under the scrutiny of the people.

Gur-Rai heard footsteps and saw his sister approaching him. He nodded to her. “Sister! I would wave but as you can see, my hands are full.”

“Yes, I do see.” She said worriedly. “Gur-Rai, what on Earth do you have?”

“A Sectoid.” He said simply.

She walked alongside him briskly. “Is it dead?”

Verge raised a finger, and Kon-Mai jumped back. 

“Nalla itzar!” She yelped. “How is it alive?!”

“He’s a he, Sister, not an it. That’s rude.” Gur-Rai grinned. “And his name is Verge.”

Kon-Mai stared at him in disbelief. “You have NAMED it?!”

“Him, Sister, HIM!”

“Fine! Him! You-”

“Of course not. He told me that was his name.” Gur-Rai nodded, looking very proud of himself.

“Well...why did you bring him here?!”

“We’re gonna see if Tygan can fix him up.” He said. “Malinalli did what she could, but she is only a nurse and-” He broke off as his foot hit the metal dock of the Avenger, and he looked up with a smile. “Hello, Commander.”

Senuna, for once, did not greet the Chosen with a smile, but a look of deep discomfort as she saw the Sectoid in Gur-Rai’s arms. Behind her, Zhang leaned forward on his cane, his eyes glistening with barely concealed anger and panic.

“As you can see, I have a wounded soldier here.” Gur-Rai said. “I need to get him to Tygan ASAP.”

Zhang turned to the Commander. “I know what we just discussed, Senuna, but you cannot allow this.” He insisted. “That is a Sectoid.”

Gur-Rai raised his brow. “Now now, Zhang, let’s not be hasty. He’s in dire need of care, and he’s hardly a threat to you.”

“I do not care.” Zhang’s voice trembled with barely disguised fear. “Those hings...that thing…” His hand went to his stomach, and the stitches that held it together. “Senuna, I am begging you. Don’t bring it on board.”

“Look, I get it, you’re dealing with a lot right now, Zhang, and I am very sorry for that.” Gur-Rai snapped. “But Verge here was attacked by ADVENT soldiers. He must have pissed them off. And if he annoyed ADVENT enough to get shot at, he’s a friend in my book.” Gur-Rai adjusted Verge, the Sectoid’s limp head lying in the crook of his neck. “Now, let me on the ship.”

“Commander.” Zhang spat. “You cannot agree to let that Sectoid in. If you do, I…” He didn’t seem willing to finish his sentence.

Malinalli hung back beside Kon-Mai, the two women staring at the conflict before them helplessly. Malinalli desperately wanted to interject, but she had already spoken out of turn once before. She couldn’t win such a fight again so soon. Kon-Mai put a calming hand on her shoulder, her own cool magenta eyes watching the fight with intent.

Senuna looked back and forth between the Chosen and her dear friend. She looked lost. Her hands trembled and she clasped them in front of her, maintaining a stiff, militant posture. She opened her mouth to Zhang, but then looked at Gur-Rai, and ultimately said nothing.

“Commander.” A strong, soothing voice said behind her. Dr. Tygan stepped up, pulling a stretcher behind him. “According to the Medical Neutrality Protection Act, it is my duty as a physician to treat those in need as I see fit, regardless of political affiliation. Therefore, on medical authority, I am taking this Sectoid on board.” He didn’t even wait for her response as he nodded to Gur-Rai to follow him.

Zhang and Senuna stared at the two in disbelief as Gur-Rai walked right past them, laying Verge’s limp body gently onto the stretcher and following behind as Tygan pulled it toward the infirmary. As it shuddered over the patchy floor, Verge opened his eyes slightly and reached out, searching for Gur-Rai’s hand. The Chosen took it and gave it a soft pat.

“You’re on your way, friend.” Gur-Rai chuckled. “Don’t you worry; you’re safe now.”

Zhang sighed and shook his head, making his way back into the ship. “I suppose you couldn’t stop that, could you?”

“Of course not.” Senuna mused. “Medical authority...I rarely hear him pull that card.” Her eyes lingered on the disappearing stretcher, and a slight smile crossed her lips. “Chilong, will you be alright?”

“Define alright.” He grumbled. “I’ll be...resting if you need me.” Turning away from her, he hobbled back down the hall.

Kon-Mai touched Malinalli’s shoulder. “Come.”

“What about the Commander?” Malinalli whispered. “And Verge-”

“Trust me.” Kon-Mai smiled. “If the Commander had wanted to stop this, she could have.” 

Malinalli fell silent. “...So she-”

She nodded. “Now, I must return to my work. And so must you, Molly.”

.

.

“I owe you one, big time.” Gur-Rai said as he transferred Verge from the stretcher to one of the beds.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Tygan insisted as he began to start up the larger scanner. “I would have helped either way. Sectoid or not, he is still a living being.”

“Right you are, Doc.” He let go of Verge’s hand, the Sectoid’s arm falling limp. “Will he be ok?”

“Only time will tell. But he’s survived this long…” Tygan bobbed his head from side to side. “With luck, and a bit of skill, he will live to tell the tale.” Tygan touched a button on his comm. “Victoria Immanuel and Chinonso Chikere, come to the Infirmary please.”

“Well in that case, I leave you to your work.” Gur-Rai said with a bow. “Unless you need help.”

“I think you leaving would be the best help.” Tygan muttered.

Gur-Rai backed out of the room, glancing back at Verge one last time as Tygan began shoving that god-awful breathing tube down his throat. He winced a bit, and almost turned around and insisted he remain.

Tearing his eyes away, he exited into the hall, where the Skirmisher woman from before was waiting, her legs crossed and looking lost in thought. One hand rested absently over her stomach.

Gur-Rai nodded to her, and she looked up, staring at him for a moment.

“Will I be seeing you around the Avenger?” He asked.

She hesitated for a moment, then she nodded. “Someday. This war is a long one after all. And I have a while to go.”

He smiled and saluted her. “Well then; keep fighting the good fight, soldier.” With a wink, he traipsed off into the darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

(Yes I love Verge too much. Sue me. I had to. :3

I needed an explanation as to why his name is Verge, I know others like @chimerathesquad have an explanation for it, but I like to think it’s because Malinalli and Gur-Rai had to share the brain cell that day~)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[harveywritings92]

The path to Isolation pt.1

-now-

"They sat on and threw trash at me again..." Anri mumbled burying her head into her hands as Mayuki patted her back while texting her other friends. "Like I said before An-Chan. they'll never notice you, if you don't assert yourself!" the raven haired girl let out a frustrated sight "How the hell would I do that, when I've put so much work into..this?" She sighed gesturing to herself as her friend frowned trying to come up with something.

"Stop dressing like a grandma for one, and Lose those dumb glasses, I don't think I ever seen you without them." the blonde hummed reaching for the the round frames, only for Anri lean away just out of her reach, causing the blond to pout.

"Boo! you always do that!" Mayuki whined as Anri readjusted her glasses. "How about I just color my hair or something, then I'll think about it?" the ravenette cringed as her friend let this glass shattering squeal, causing a few students to gawk at them Genji's group included.

The green haired boy brows furrowed bemused trying to piece together what the chick..uh, he banged her once, whats her name?...Mizu..no Erm?? Mayuki! that's it! was saying to Anri, but the bottle blonde was talking a mile a minute and pretty much carried the shorter girl out the door. "W-Wait my bag! Mayu!!!" 

She quickly walked back for her things as The blonde rushed her out "Hurry, Hurry!!" surprising the class that Goose girl was ditching class, with a cheerleader who yelling a about salons and colors? Were they getting their nails done, Was Anri actually into that kind of stuff??

"I always did like the color..." Anri's voice got distant Genji's gaze then shifted to the window along with rest of the class, it faced the back courtyard, a few minutes later he saw Anri and Mayuki sneak out back; via hole in the fence just missing the gym teacher who was out for a midday smoke.

 "Wow..The nerd actually did it." A girl with too much make up on said then turn to her friend. "We can use this! Let's make that nerd do our homework." She suggested a of her friends agreed even throwing in a few ridiculous demands one guy even asked if Anri 'puts out' that caused the girls to laugh before the green haired ninja intervened.

"So, she ditched class once? Whoopee! like we haven't done that before, And you don't see us doing other people work." The makeup girl gaped at Genji like a fish then began to stammer" B..but-" the young Shimada cut her off with sharp look. "Leave it." He said in a deadly tone causing chill to go down the groups spines,they nodded knowing that crossing Genji would be a very unhealthy choice...

on the street with Anri and Mayu!

"So, where do we star?" Mayuki asked Anri who smiled at her friends energy, then noticed something in peripherals thinking fast, the twin braided girl grabbed her blond friend and ducked behind a dumpster, just as a patrol car drove by.

 "Well, first let's change our clothes, we stand out like sore thumbs" the honey eyed girl suggested knowing they probably get away better with without looking like a couple of escaped high school schoolgirls, they walked for a few blocks before Anri pointed at a thrift-store across the street.

Causing Mayuki to sweat dropped she's never been in a thrift-store before...and was little wary, [Yes she's from a well off family.] She changed her mind once she found a cute black sleeveless top with a black skirt with a pink floral pattern, that she just had to have. 

she changed into those and waited for Anri to come out of the changing room, when she emerged the ravenette was wearing a brown turtle neck under a dip dye sundress that started out white then faded into a pretty leaf green and little grey paper boy's cap.

"Oh you look cute Mayu!" The blond smiled at her friend about to say the same thing but felt something was missing, spying an orange belt Mayuki grabbed it and put it around Anri's waist surprised at how thin the short girl actually was, the ravenette always wore baggy cardigans and slouched a lot walked or sat down it gave everyone the impression that Anri was pudgy! "And now you look like a girl!" the blond chirped as the her honey eyed friend went to pay.

It's a good thing Mayuki was distracted by some of the old toys lining the shop walls, otherwise Anri would have a tough time explaining why her debit-card said: Shimada Anri instead of Townsend. Only Takumi knows about her relationship with the Shimada clan; Mayuki and Mikoto think she's working for them as maid that why she and Genji know each other. 

The clerk thanked them for their patronage and the two girls went on with their ditch day, stopping at a restaurant that Mayuki's family owned it took a moment for the hostess to recognize the bottle blonde "Oh miss Sonohara, Table for you and your friend?" the old woman asked leading Anri and Mayuki to the VIP section they were seated in a small booth they ordered some drinks and got down to what Anri was looking for style wise?

"I was thinking red,maybe? nothing too flashy to get get me into trou-" The ravenette was interrupted by someone tapping her shoulder both teens looked up and saw annoyed ginger haired woman around college age wearing very provocatively short purple dress standing behind them. Anri squirmed in her seat knowing exactly what was coming. 

"Why hasn't Genjikins been returning my calls." She whined close to stomping her foot the short girl cringed as Mayuki mouthed out "Genjikins?!" in disbelief and snorted as the ginger waited for Anri tell her why Genjikins has been avoiding her. The ravenette though for a second and looked the annoyed woman. 

"Ever hear the saying; A critic never pays to eat the same meal twice?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"What I'm saying Ko-ne-ko~...Is that your Genjikins menu isn't just exclusive to yours...he likes to eat around." Anri's voice dropped to a sultry tone as she watched the woman face drop in recognition after all Anri just called her: Koneko. That was the pet name Ginger's darling Genjikins called her by, and no else! 

There's no way her handsome Genjikins was playing around! this little brat was just jealous of their love! Ginger's mind tried reasoned "You're lying! you don't know him you don't know us!" the ginger haired woman hissed as her face was turning a lovely shade of purple almost matching her dress.

Anri feigned innocence, the honey eyed girl pulled her glasses down a tick and winked as she gently took the distraught woman's hand in hers and smirked up at her flirtatiously.

"Why so mad Koneko?~ Oh, I get it...you don't like that name anymore? Well the how about my Dove, Angel or princess,... my dawn?" The ravenette purred before kissing the girl's hand mimicking how Genji would do it, the girl recoiled in disgust than ran off in tears. "Well at least this one didn't slap me." Anri said apathetically recalling the last couple girls who came around asking about Genji.

Mayuki cocked a brow at her; Damn this shorty can one mean Mama Trucker, She then noticed how quiet the ravenette had gotten. Anri seemed to be in pretty deep thought...she almost looked lonely. 

"Genjikins, She seriously called him Genjikins?" Mayuki snickered breaking the tense silence between them as Anri snorted "I've heard worst, trust me!" the bespectacled girl giggled before returning to their original conversation, After lunch they set up an appointment at the hair salon just down the block from the restaurant.

They got there and the stylist was a bit hesitant on touching Anri's hair because it was so pretty and well taken care of. he had to ask her several times if she was sure about him taking her hair's virginity, Anri although a bit creeped out by the guys question was totally fine with it, after she pick out a color called chocolate cosmos. the stylist got to work...

it was almost dark by the time he was done, Anri had her newly dyed hair up in a bun and stuffed under her hat for safe keeping as she walked Mayuki home. "Are you sure you don't want to sleepover? My parents wouldn't mind." The bottle blond said as they split a Popsicle on the way. 

the former ravenette shook her head; she was pushing it today by skipping school; Hanzo was surly having an aneurysm wondering where she was; her bodyguards were probably out looking for her right now. "Maybe next weekend, I think I'll be grounded for next three days but it was worth it," Anri said awkwardly while rubbing the back of her head, she bid farewell to her friend began the trek home...

Then Anri stopped in her tracks and calmly took off her glasses off almost as if she were cleaning them, not noticing the man behind her ready to grab-. "Y'know..." the man retracted his hand and stood still in the shadows as Anri continued taking "..stalking is a very complicated affair..." She hummed calmly as she tucked her glasses away. "You watch and learn thinking it'll be easy once they're alone."

The former ravenette began to walk again; leading the man deeper into an alley." And just when you think have your target... " She slipped into the shadows that led to dead end the man had a baton ready he reeled it back ready to swing as he rounded the corner only to find...Nothing? but he saw her come this way!

a cold sweat formed on the mans brow as he felt presence behind him. " You find out your target had you from the start.~"  The man could only gasp in horror a hand covered his mouth, Needless to say the police were confused when they received a call about a pervert terrorizing a high school girl! only to find said pervert in his underwear hogtied with his own rope with a baton sticking out of his ass.

Anri resisted the urge to laugh as she got home to find Hanzo sitting on the front steps and he looked livid. "And just were where you today?" the elder Shimada brother demanded as the bespectacled girl shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. 

"O-Out with a friend?" She stammered as his brown eyes narrowed at her. "Oh, and was time with this friend more important then school?" He hissed Anri swore she saw a flash blue in his eyes as Hazo held back his wrath. "Honestly, I expected better from you Anri." and with that Hanzo went to train leaving the girl to wallow in her now soured mood.

"Now I wish I hadn't gone easy on that creep..." She mumbled taking her shoes off mentally picturing herself beating snot out of the perv. "What creep?" She jumped hearing Genji's voice glanced around before looking up and finding him hiding out in the rafters, staring down at her curiously. "A pervert tried grabbing me on way home I-" the green haired boy suddenly bristled he jumped from rafters and landed in front of her with a heated looked "Why didn't you say anything when Hanzo was yelling at you?!" Genji hissed as Anri dismissed his anger.

"It wasn't a big deal I handled it." Genji's eyes seemed flashed green the bespectacled girl jumped when he punched the wall just above her head the sound seemed to echo through the halls as Genji glowered at the short girl.

 "Not a big deal..." He snarled grabbing her front of her shirt, Anri looked at him in fear before Genji caught himself and pulled away from her; a pregnant silence filled the entryway, the frontdoors suddenly looked interesting to stare at, he glanced back at Anri and saw her hands were shaking...

All because he couldn't keep his stupid instincts in check. "Did he touch you?" He asked hoarsely before biting the inside of his cheek as tiny voice managed to stammer out.

 "n..no." 

Genji's shoulders relaxed a he let out breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he heard Anri's footsteps hurry away, leaving him alone. "Dammit, I screwed up again." he berated himself before he heard Hanzo yelling for him from the training room, At least he'll have something to take his anger out on...   

[yeehawmalakas]

Fate led us here Chapter two

Warnings: Violence. cursing.

With the camp packed up and stored back in our saddlebags, we started to ride back to camp. The ride was mostly silent, a few words exchanged here and there. I had one of my books propped against the horn handle on my saddle, turning the pages with one of my hands while glancing up occasionally to look at the road ahead and make sure I was not falling behind. The braid with the feather swang gently as I rode, I did love it a lot. “Good book?” The voice of Charles brought me back to reality. Glancing at him, I smiled. “ Yes..It’s really wonderful..It’s about a noble lady who falls in love with a huntsman.” Charles made a noise of acknowledgment before silence fell between us. “ Hey! Stop right there lady and gent!” A voice called out.

My gaze jerked upwards to see the four men armed to the teeth in front of the road. Charles and I slowed the horses down, my hand rested on the hilt of my revolver as we approached the men. “ What seems to be the problem fellers?” asked Charles as we slowly started to approach them, as we did, I recognized them as O’Driscells. “Well, You seem to have some pretty pelts there ….as well as pretty company. “ One grinned with yellowed teeth at me. I fought the urge to shudder and remained silent. Best to let Charles handle this. “Afraid they aren’t for sale.” The men chuckled and pulled his pistol out of his holster, aiming it at Charles. “ We weren’t askin . “ I glanced at Charles, he was calm, collected.

Unlike me. I gripped the reins in my left hand tightly, watching the men and Charles nervously. “Give us the pelts and the girl …redskin..blackskin..whatever the hell you are.” Anger struck me like a lightning bolt. My hand grabbed the revolver and I fired out a shot at the man who had insulted Charles, planting a bullet in his head. The other three men reacted, drawing their own weapons and firing wildly at us. Charles had his own out and was firing his own shots at them. One rushed my horse, firing a shot that made her buck in fear. I tumbled to the ground, landing hard. I barely had time to react as the man rushed me, knife out now in one hand, gun in the other. I dove towards my revolver where it lay on the ground, snatching it up in my hand, turning towards the man who brought his knife down.

I felt the cold blade slide across my cheek, cutting open the soft skin. I jerked back at this, giving me some space between the man and I. My revolver raised up towards the man and I pulled the trigger, aiming for his skull. The shot rang out over the trees and the man now dropped, dead. Another sounded and I glanced towards Charles whose gun was still smoking  I was thrown suddenly on the ground as one of the other men tackled me, my revolver was thrown from my grasp. The man scrambled to his feet, his foot lashing out and catching me in the side side of my ribs. I gasped in pain as it made impact. Rolling away as he aimed another kick at me, I got to my knees and stumbled to my feet. Behind me, I heard a strangled cry. Glancing over at Charles, I saw that he had the man in a chokehold, his strong arms squeezing the man’s neck before violently twisting his head. A sharp crack and he too dropped dead.

Breathing hard,  I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, blood smeared across it. Charles made his way over to me,  holstering his weapon. “ You alright?” he asked and I turned to look at him. His eyes scanned my face, pausing on the cut upon my cheekbone. He came close to me, eyes still locked on my face. His hand reached up and tilted my chin up, his thumb grazed against the wound causing it to sting. I let out a noise of shock and flinched. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” his hand dropping away quickly. I shook my head, “ just stings that’s all. “ I gripped my aching ribs with an arm and headed towards Morrigan who was now trotting back to us, having avoided the fight. Charles was suddenly beside me, lifting my arm and placing it over his shoulders while his other gripped the side of my shoulder. We reached my horse and Charles held onto the reins, making sure that Morrigan was stable enough for me to board. I made a face as my ribs ached.

 Charles mounted up and rode close to me. The sun was starting to set, the camp was just a few minutes ride from where we were but Charles insisted I rest for tonight. He helped me off my horse, supporting me as he walked me over to a grassy spot to sit while he set up camp. Every time that I tried to help, he shook his head and told me to sit. I busied myself with cleaning my wounds. I took my handkerchief and poured some water from my canteen onto the cloth, gently cleaning the blood from the cut, making sure to clean it out thoroughly. My pocket mirror helped me make sure. The white cloth was now spotted with smears of red, looking almost pink. I finished with my cut and moved towards the tent and fire that Charles had made. I crawled inside and collapsed on my back, side aching horribly. Charles entered the tent, lantern in hand as well as a can of beans he had heated up over the fire. He sat on his bedroll, next to me. “ You need to eat.” I shifted to look at him. “ So do you.” a low chuckle came from him and he spooned up some beans and ate them. He then offered the can to me. I took it and ate some of the beans as well. We shared the beans in silence, passing it back and forth to each other.

Charles set the empty can down next to him and looked at me with those soft eyes of his, filled with what seemed to be concern.” Does it hurt bad?.” I shook my head, offering him a small smile. “ Just a bruise, nothing seems broken or fractured,” I paused now looking at him. He had a few scrapes himself from the fight. “ Looks like they got you a few times too,” I heaved myself into a sitting position so that I could get a better look of the scrapes. I reached for my canteen and fetched another clean rag, soaking it with the water from the canteen. I moved towards Charles. He looked at me, an eyebrow raised in question. “ Hold still.” I raised the rag towards a scrape near his lip, gently moving it around to clean off the blood. I could feel his eyes watching me as I worked, cleaning the blood from his scrapes. His breaths were slow and calm. The smell of burning wood and pine radiated from him. There was so much about him that was distracting but I managed to keep my focus on cleaning his wounds. Once I was satisfied with my efforts, I moved back to my bedroll and packed the dirty rag away in my satchel. “Thank you..I am sorry I did not get to you quicker, if I had been quicker, you would not have that bruise.” his voice, deep yet quiet. “You saved my life, I am just glad I got a feller like you watching my back.” my hand reached out and settled on his, I looked into his warm, soft brown eyes and studied them with my own. A small smile graced his lips ever so slightly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

We woke early and made it to camp just a little before noon. I slid off Morrigan and allowed her to graze with the other horses after removing my share of the pelts from her. Charles had his pelts hoisted over his shoulder with one hand , he looked towards me. “ You need any help carrying those?” I shook my head. “ Thanks Charles.” I followed him to Pearsen’s wagon where Mary-beth was busy chopping some vegetables for one of his stews, I suspected. She glanced up and stopped what she was doing, heading over to me. “You’re back!” She offered a small but tight hug. “ Watch the ribs,” I told her as I hugged her back before setting down the pelts that I was carrying. She stepped away and returned to her duties, chopping the vegetables. I yawned and stretched, heading over to my camp bedroll , plopping down and ruffling through my satchel, picking out the book I had been reading. I leaned back, propped against a wagon and started to read. The sounds of the people in the camp faded into background noise as I focused on the pages of the book.

[huffle-puppy]

@drew-winchester​ So I made another thing... And you may be wondering what this link above is, but please read this all first to the end! It’s apples and oranges which of the two I’ve written hits harder, but it’s in very different ways so it’s hard to tell, I guess. Ajelee and Chún are my own (won’t get to see them in my fic for a few years yet sadly) and I had to take a little bit of liberty imagining for future, older Khadgrin... Hopefully everyone is still in character! Enjoy! Sorry if it’s hard to get through (and please excuse my voice in song; I’m not a beautiful Night Elf lass--just a lad getting over a cold trying to sing into a Voice Memos app ^w^;)

The Silent Rainfall:

She noticed it far too late. It wasn’t a big thing; it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was, and she realized that when it was long, long past.

    Khadgar decided to stay in bed.

    It was perfectly fine; their picnic date had been interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a mass of grey above. The clouds were soft and dark, rippling over Karazhan’s towers, quiet and purposeful. The downpour slicked the stones and thrust against the mortar, but the structure was solid, and the magic within it was too powerful to die with the oversight of faulty walls.

    It was true--their home did not usually get sunshine. They took their picnics out in Elwynn forest, and while she laughed and flew off as she always had, a large druidic bird of pink feathers, a small voice in her mind murmured that Khadgar hadn’t used Atiesh’s flying form in a few months. Perhaps it had been years, now? He smiled and chased after her, but it was on the back of one of their gryphons, sent off to graze and chase doe as they ate.

    Gryphons, he’d often griped, gave him saddle-sores, which she had always laughed at and remarked something about kissing wounds that still managed to cast a blush over his features, despite their increasing lines.

    “Mm--!” She stretched up from their bed, the covers falling down to her legs. The shirt beneath was soft and loose, and she yawned as the bliss of sleep faded back. Her white hair fell in a mess, and she hummed an old tune as she collected herself and braided it into a thick tail to lay over her shoulder and down her chest. The hum paused abruptly when she realized that she couldn’t remember the name of the song, or anyone else who might’ve heard it, so she looked out the paned window to the rain instead and listened to its soft tapping.

    Her gaze drifted down lovingly to her husband, bundled up nice and neat so that only his white hair and the start of his face could be seen. Against his eyes there were crow’s feet now, and his cheeks had drawn in some, despite her best attempts to feed him well. He was far from gaunt--ooh, how he still could make her weak in the knees, casting a dashing gaze her way--but it was a noticeable difference in their portraits.

    He shifted about and settled again, taking a long breath. “Morning.”

    She leaned down, kissing his cheek. The light from outside cast shadows through the rain along his face, looking like the ghosts of tears. “Morning.”

    She shifted about again, turning and lighting the candle at the bedside table, letting it shine through their apartment. Despite his stature, his achievements, and his complete ownership of Karazhan, he had chosen one of the smaller bedrooms for theirs, those many decades ago. Painted views adorned the walls of things long lost; Teldrassil’s beauty, Turalyon and Alleria, the childhood faces of Arator, Avalon, and Anaël.

    “It’s raining?” he mumbled, voice still amassed in sleep.

    “Mhm!” She nestled back down against his back, kissing his ear. “Clouds above as far as the eye can see--maybe even going into Elwynn.”

    “Ah, they probably are--” with a grunt and a strong push, he finally made it over onto his back, looking up at her with a worn smile. Those blue eyes had never lost their tender sparkle.

    “Hi.”

    She giggled, putting a hand over his cheek to cover the rainfall. “Hi.”

    He pulled her down into a kiss, and nothing in the world was wrong.

    The hours passed by uneventfully, in bliss and warmth and comfort, without responsibility or anyone else at all. They stayed huddled in the rain, close, pleasing themselves with their company. Lunchtime came and went, and finally when the grey clouds started to get darker as the sun fell behind them, there was a timid knock on the door from one of the stewards they’d kept in their employment to tend to the vast reaches of their home.

    Perry called back that everything was fine, and the steward replied that dinner was set for them downstairs. She thanked him, and they heard him wander away through the halls.

    “Dinner time,” she said, kissing him once more before sitting up again and stretching. “C’mon~!”

    She started out of bed and was to the doorway before she realized he hadn’t followed. She glanced back along the dark room to him, his face lit against the dark blue blankets by candlelight.

    “C’mon, Bubbly~ We need to eat.”

    “Hm.”

    She blinked, blinked again, and her smile slowly faded against her cheeks.

    “Are you all right, love?”

    “M’fine; I’m fine,” he said, voice softer than she remembered it being in recent years. “Just-- don’t-- I don’t much feel like getting up, is all.”

    Perry giggled, sauntering back over to the bedside. “I see, so you want dinner in bed and to be pampered, dearest?”

    A bemused, wistful smile played along his mouth in the candlelight. She giggled again and leaned down, teasing, stopping inches from him.

    “Dinner in bed, then, and I’ll see what I can manage about pampering.”

    He laughed and stuck out his tongue. She stuck her own out back at him, licking the end of his, then darted back with a squeak and a peal of laughter, overdramatically pawing at her mouth. “Ewwww!”

    Khadgar heaved out a sigh and rolled his eyes, grinning.

    Perry grinned back, moving out the door, thinking nothing of her husband staying in bed until the next day came and went without any change in his position. He was still cordial, but he was low-energy; the days of youth spent asking adventurers for exactly 2,500 Nethershards--IT HAD TO BE EXACTLY 2,500! were gone. He was mature.

    He was slowing down.

    The rain beat softly against the window, and she tried in vain to lift him from the bed. She laughed, making it a game, trying to hide the pit of dread growing in her stomach. She stepped out of his reach, sultry and teasing, biting her lip and waiting for him to follow--but all he could do was watch after her with a dramatic pout that faded slowly into a wistful gaze, and something caught in the edge of his eyes she couldn’t identify. She didn’t want to identify.

    Fear.

    Acceptance.

    She threw the thoughts aside, clambering back into the bed with him and submitting that he wouldn’t chase after her anymore, making them both forget with momentary kisses and conversations of other things. Old reminisces were brought back; long-lost adventures, musings about where acquaintances had gone off to, what their foolish children had gotten themselves up to and how many grandchildren would come to visit next Winter’s Veil.

    And all the while, the sick, cold pit lodged in her chest sat and festered, coming back to twist her nerves when he said again he’d prefer dinner in bed. She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek, getting it, unable to shake off the feeling that she shouldn’t tarry along the way.

    The third day came and went.

    The fourth.

    The fifth.

    Khadgar had grown quieter. The rain had stayed all throughout, and Perry wished it would go away and cast the brilliant sunlight back into their home; that the stars would light up the night sky again and they could rush outside and onto a hill, lying down side by side with nothing but the wide vaults of the heavens above. She brought up memory after memory, and he listened and smiled and added on sometimes, but the days were overwhelmingly full of her voice and his love of it.

    On the sixth day, she instructed the stewards to bring two old friends, the best healers she knew in Azeroth, and her children as soon as was possible, then hurried back to her husband’s side, afraid to miss a moment with him.

    Word was brought back that both of her children and their families were in the midst of important work for the factions, and that they would come as soon as possible. A few hours later, Ajelee and Chún Moonleaf came, quickly joining her in the grand, empty ballroom downstairs. She had known Lee far longer; he was an Archdruid, as she was, a druid of balance as well as restoration. He was imposing and quite a bit taller than her, but he had always done his best to treat her and Khadgar with respect. She hadn’t seen much of him, though; he worked as an ambassador most times, and the factions took up much of his time.

    Chún on the other hand, remained a lovely mystery. A pandaren priestess, she had studied extensively at Darnassus’s temple and was blessed by Elune. Perry didn’t put much faith into that--or that she had white dove’s wings, as many priests mumbled in awe--but she knew that she was widely regarded as one of the most powerful holy priestesses in the Alliance.

    They greeted her with smiles, but the happiness was forced, and their eyes shed worry that made Perry’s heart thud heavily against her ribs. She had detailed Khadgar’s condition in her brief letter to them. They wasted no time asking to go up and see him.

    Khadgar was looking out the window as they all came in. The greetings were cordial, and pleasant chatter filled the room while they found an easy way to break the ice on the subject. Perry clambered into bed next to him, sitting and smiling, hand finding his and squeezing a little too tight. The conversation lulled.

    He knew, just as well as his healers.

    “Do either of you want anything?” Perry said, voice bright and loud, filling the gap in their silence. “You both must have come a long way.”

    Lee shook his head politely in silence. Chún just watched her patient, soft hands folded over her robe.

    “Bubbly?” She turned to him. “Do you?”

    Khadgar was looking out the window again. Her smile twitched and faltered, and her throat felt tighter. He took a breath, turning his head to see her with those wondrous blue eyes, getting wearier and wearier by the hour, and smiled. It was light, and did not stay long before his muscles relaxed again on his face.

    “Perry,” he murmured. His voice filled the room, and she let out a shuddering breath, face drawn taut. The word was feeble and weak. Old. Unable to cast more than a few wishes.

    His fingers moved gently against hers, interlacing, caressing. He’d held in his hands the power of gods. The skin was wrinkled and pockmarked. His fingers were thin and tired.

    His thumb moved over hers, squeezing. It was light, but she realized with a tremble that it was all he could manage.

    “Khadgar,” she murmured back, brow starting to tremble and press together, heat burning under her eyes as tears threatened to take away her gaze over him.

    “How long left, do you feel?” Lee asked. The words barely registered in Perry’s ears, but they were crisp and clear.

    Khadgar stroked his wife’s hand, glancing out the window again.

    “Until the rain stops. One last storm to weather through.”

    He turned back to Perry with a calming smile. It stayed as her lip trembled; it stayed when her sorrow fell against his face like the rain. He winced, pulling an arm out, trying in vain to reach up and brush her cheek--but his arm trembled, and his teeth pressed firm together to keep it up. She laid down next to him, curling up, and his hand moved easier, finding the tears along her face and brushing them away.

    “We’ll bring your children as fast as possible,” Lee said, bowing. As he left, Chún tucked Perry in, and under the warm covers the elf curled up against her human husband.

    “Perry,” Khadgar murmured gently, and the heat came to her eyes again. She blinked them away furiously, taking a shuddering breath. She wouldn’t let him leave her sight.

    The pandaren moved back gracefully, tending to the food trays in the room. Perry glanced at her, lips trembling then pressed together firmly.

    “You’re the best there is, Chún. Is there--” She gulped, catching her breath. “Is there something?”

    Chún paused, turning back to them. “Milady Peregrïn, I can treat any wound. Any ailment. Even-- Even raise the dead, when the body can still support life. But neither I nor-- nor Lee, can prevent, alter, or stop the effects of aging. He’s lived-- He’s lived long past any normal point of life for a human. Age is inevitable. I’m sorry.”

    Chún turned away again, and before Perry could reply, Khadgar gently tugged her back down against him. She looked to him, fierce and determined and scared beyond anything else, but she was met with the same quiet smile he’d had when he’d first saw her. That old absent-minded stare. The quiet look of tenderness. His eyes were a home for her heart.

    And where would it be without them?

    She curled in tight against him, praying to Elune the rain never ended. She held him tight throughout the night, barely sleeping, listening to the soft downpour, slender fingers covering his heart to feel its beat.

    Avalon and Anaël and their families came sometime towards dawn. She had fallen asleep finally, and woke when they came in. Lee escorted them, silent, and they stayed back, unsure, looking on. Perry blinked at them, then at the window.

    The rain was lighter. The first rays of sun broke through the grey cover.

    She looked to Khadgar, wide-eyed.

    His eyes opened slow and heavy, as if the weight of the world was trying to press them back. Everything he had to give was to catch a glimpse of her, and against the pressure and heaviness of each muscle, he still managed that tender smile her visage brought.

    “The kids are here,” she murmured, a crystal tear shining in the daylight and dropping against his chin.

    “Please say hello to them.” The words were little more than a ragged whisper. His face was pale. Mortal. Ancient.

    “He says hi,” she said, casting a glance and a pained smile quickly at them then turning back, afraid of looking away. They murmured their love, moving around to be next to their father. She felt them, but couldn’t turn away. She wouldn’t miss this. If she could hold him there, in her eyes, he’d never go.

    Khadgar took a breath. She heard the air drawn in, wheezing like it was moving through a dusty flute, then press out again and rest. He blinked, and didn’t open his eyes nearly as far.

    “Khadgar?” Her voice was quiet, shivering. A second stream glistened down her face.

    “Perry.” There was all the love in the world in that word. All the tenderness of centuries. All the joy and hope and brilliance of the sunrise. It lit up his blue eyes one last time.

    “I love you,” she said, blinking hard to try and keep him in her gaze as it filled up opaque.

    He smiled wider, blissful, blinking again slowly. He breathed out with a murmur. “Love y…”

    The word trailed off. The breath was gone to the air, unable to pull back. The room was silent as the rain ceased, and the sun crept forth from the grey above. His blue eyes were shut. His heart was still.

    The world was still.

    She broke. Tears tumbled wildly, breath jagged in her chest, and her head fell against his. Their white hair wove together, and time unwound. Sometimes there was an empty sun in the sky; sometimes cold stars and the bitter face of Elune. Her family gathered around her, and weakly she noticed that there were many more now; kings and rulers he’d helped standing in the ballroom whose names she couldn’t recall--that they were at the crypt now, his coffin being carried down coarse stone into the depths of the earth--that they were gone again, until her children around her bid her goodnight and Chún gently tucked her in an empty bed.

The cliffside was beautiful.

    “But it’s not as beautiful as you,” he said.

    Perry laughed, the long braid along her chest bouncing along gaily. “Khadgar, has line that ever worked on anyone living?”

    Khadgar grinned, pearly white teeth shining in the sunlight under a well-kept brown beard. His white and brown mane was tied back neatly--she’d prided herself on it looking incredible--and a single bang of white hair crept down over his forehead. His robes billowed out in the wind, and his strong hand took hers.

    “Well, you stayed with me, and I have lines far worse than that, I assure you, darling…”

    She giggled, rolling her eyes and squeezing his hand tight. His grin faded into a loving smile. She looked out at the ocean ahead, then at him, then at him, smile fading slightly. She blinked, brows furrowing slowly.

    “Khadgar?”

    “Perry.”

    She gulped. Logic and reason came flooding in, and the winds blew cold against her legs. She managed a shy smile.

    “Since when did you start dying your hair brown? Since when did you get a beard?” She smirked. “It looks… scratchy.”

    He scoffed. “I think it looks nice!”

    She grinned. “Oh, I never said it didn’t look very, very nice, dear; just might be scratchy against my skin.”

    He made a show of huffing. “Well then I shall keep it extremely nicely kept so it doesn’t scratch your tender skin!”

    She giggled, and he laughed along. It faded a little too fast. She squeezed his hand tighter.

    “Perry,” he said again, voice tender and strong.

    “Tell me I’m awake,” she murmured. “Please, Khadgar, tell me I’m awake and that everything else was a dream.”

    He smiled, eyes tinged in sorrow. “I can’t. One of my wedding vows, which I’ve been very dutiful to keep, my love, was that I would never lie to you.”

    A tremor ran through her, and he tightened his grip on her hand, steadying her.

    “I don’t want to wake up, then,” she said.

    “You have to,” he said simply.

    “No.” She shook her head, frowning slowly. “The world without you--I can’t describe it, Khadgar. The colors are raw, and hard. The birdsong is nothing but lamentation. The food is ash; the wine is tasteless. I can’t see where I’m going, anymore; I just look around and realize where I’ve drifted.”

    Khadgar brushed her cheek, and she realized a tear had lingered there.

    “I will wait for you. And some nights, you may dream of me; every day, I will watch over you with every being of Light there is by my side to keep you safe.”

    She held his hand tighter. “I may live for centuries more, alone. Every day would be an aching wish that the night might bring you back to me.”

    “You’re never going to be alone, Perry,” he said, palm resting along her cheek. “Centuries or not, there is nothing that will keep me from being at your side. Even if you can’t see me; can’t hear me; can’t feel me holding you, nothing will change in all those small affections I’d give you.”

    Another tear fell against his thumb, and he brushed it away with a reassuring smile.

    “I’m going to try and not be an annoying haunt; I promise.”

    She laughed, moving in and resting her head to his shoulder. The laughter turned to shivers, and he soothed them away.

    “Don’t you worry about how long I might wait. Time is of such little concern: all that matters to me is being with you, and seeing you happy. And if-- if that means you find someone else, then don’t worry about that--”

    She wrapped her arms around him tight, fierce. “No one else. No one else would ever replace you.”

    He paused, then hugged her tight, petting along her back.

    “I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want you to leave again.” She trembled against him, and he nuzzled against her.

    “You have to, my love,” he murmured. “Because this world would be a much colder place without the warmth of your smile.”

Chún prepared breakfast with the stewards. Lee helped, seating Perry’s children and making sure they were being well cared-for. The distress of their mother being distant so soon after Khadgar’s passing--

    A light footfall came to their ears, and everyone paused.

    Down the curve of one of the many staircases, Peregrïn stepped gracefully, a soft smile along her features, white hair long and braided, pink slender form tucked away in a blue robe that sparkled like her husband’s eyes. She set her feet down along the rug at the base of the steps, glancing up pleasantly at them all.

    “Mom?” Avalon murmured, getting up slowly. Her brother followed suit, worried, hopeful.

    Perry cleared her throat.

    “I’m sorry--” she paused and cleared her throat again, starting louder. “I’m sorry if I gave anyone trouble. I feel much better now--I’m sure, of course, Lee, you’ll want to verify that.”

    Ajelee blinked then nodded slowly.

    Perry chuckled. “Well. Either way, I say we all have a wonderful breakfast and a good day from then on.”

    She walked gracefully to the table. As she approached, the group noted a paper, rolled up in her hand. Anaël asked gently what it was.

    Perry laughed and sat down. “Oh, Elune--it’s something I’m realizing I’m actually rather timid to confess.”

    Avalon frowned quickly. “Mom--”

    Perry held up a hand, for once perfectly calm. Avalon relaxed slightly, perplexed. Perry set the paper down, opening it and folding her hands.

    “It’s the first song I’ve written in a good fifty years, or so. I used to write them all the time, thinking I could sing them to Khadgar, or as lullabies--and every time, I squirreled them away instead.” She grinned, an impish lustre in her eyes. “But I suppose I should try and actually present this one?”

    The party clamored that yes, yes, please, she should.

    Perry smiled, looking down to the paper:

Softly along the winds above/ A darling bird descends / And on its wings there is a prayer / Of which I’ll comprehend

On a tree outside my window / This raven stops and sings / The gentle tune I start up now / With joy I’ll try and bring

“Come” says he, this Raven fair / “Come listen for awhile / To tales long gone within my song / And cast to me your smile.”

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’ll thank you for such gifts” / And on he sang of brilliant things / And darkness ‘round me lifts

So on he sang, this Raven fair / And I his captive one / And through the dawn his feathers bloomed / Until his song was done

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’m blessed that this you shared, / But why, pray tell, did you choose me / To give such tender care?”

The Raven laughed upon its perch / And stared me in the eye / And without word he flew away / Towards the autumn sky

But as he flew a feather fell / And landed in the earth / Upon the tomb of one I loved / Who bid me live with mirth

So on along my days I’ll tread / And dance whene’er I can / And drink and love and merrily / ‘Til I see him once again.

    Perry ended her verses and looked up sweetly to them all. They were silent, and along their faces she could see awe. She glanced over to Khadgar’s seat, where he normally dined. The blue velvet across from her was faded and empty--and yet, she could almost see the outline of his shoulders, facing her.

    She could almost feel his smile. So she put on hers, and faced the day anew with all she could give.

[ddeancas]

The Lady or the Tiger-(deancas)

Chapters: 1/1

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1.6K

Additional Tags: Mentions of homophobia, fem!Dean Winchester, fem!Castiel, Princess!Cas, Royal Family, Midevil Setting, Angst with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read The Lady or the Tiger Narrative before you begin!

Link:

Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it…

    This suspense had the crowd on the edge of their seats, completely silent. The princess, who now had stood at the edge of the canopy, hands rested on the back of her chair, had a grimace on her glowing face. As the door began to pull open slowly, even the princess who knew what awaited her lover had grown anxious to the result of her choice…

When the old mahogany door creaked open and the shone into the deep darkness that held its occupant, and the silhouette approached, the crowd had grown into a lull of whispers and gasps before breaking into a loud roar of glee. The young lady, her own sister, slowly shattering the denseness, and with that: the princess’ heart.

In that stillness that shook Evalengia, the princess, was ringed with jealousy and hatred. Her olive colored skinned hands clenching to white knuckles of rage, though she knew the result of her choice her anger still blazed on with a strong fury. Nevertheless, the planned outcome, tasted sweeter in Evalengia’s mouth. For her plan raced forward still, nothing yet to deter it.

Samuel, the young man, took one last worried glance at his lover and then, with a smile, embraced his new awaiting wife with a kiss. His now bride seemed as if she wanted to reel back from this grasp, how she could be unhappy with her new lover seemed to be mystery to the onlookers. But the princess watched this encounter with a knowing smirk, enjoying Kastiel’s misery.

Finally pulling out of this hold, Samuel turned and looped his arm around Kastiels waist, waving at the coterie with a simper look of joy, for he had not his lover but he did have the most angelic and charming dame throughout all of the kingdom. He seemed proud. Kastiel looked over the flock mournfully as the friar converged. Followed by a graceful dancing line of wondrous ladies, some blowing horns and others flamboyantly throwing ribbons and petals of blue into the air. At the end of this line tailed a young man holding two  pillows of lace, stained a deep baby blue. Atop each of the pillows sat two silver bands.

With the gleeful sound of the brass horns slowing into a low tempo of intimate hums, the friar took his place in between the two and cleared his throat,”Commoners! Today we invoke as a array to our mighty king, that all’s been decided by our mother nature of fate, and that Samuel’s  reward is fair!”

“Aye!” The crowd cheered joyously.

Smiling he continued,”Let us begin!” He projected across the echoing amphitheater, but before he could continue the sounds of gaiety ceased in quick rush.

There was the princess, moving toward the couple now, clenching the train of her dress up slightly as she crossed the cobble-stoned grounds, head held high in confidence. The king stood abruptly in protest, but his second stopped him, “Patience sire, the child is exhibiting class and confidence.”  

The king nods at this with a grunt,”I’ll not put up with her recklessness Henry, she shan’t make a fool of me, or it’ll be your head.” He rumbles lowly.

    “Yes, my king.” Henry answers quickly, his voice cracking with cowardice.

    Just as the princess made it to the sight before her a caw of a raven growled near by, fluttering its pitch black-oily wings and landing promptly next to her feet. Giving an eerie shadow of evil over the spectacle.

    Evalengia looked pleased, a beaming smile on her face as she bowed to the couple. Samuel had grown extremely still in his place, his arm rigid around Kastiels waist, but his wife bowing back to the royal successor broke his worried trance on the princess’ figure, he took his bend as well.

“Madam Princess..” Kastiel’s voice purred with a hint of malice, but she greeted the lady nevertheless.

Evalengia’s lips twitched with an unknown annoyance,”Kastiel..hello sister.” She gave a simple nod between the two then landed her brown orbs upon Samuel. “Sam-” The princess stopped herself and sighed,” Sir Widows.” She finished sharply, it sounded as if the words burned her tongue.

“Madam.” Samuel drew his eyes away from the princess and watched the cobblestone,”I thank the..mother of fate..” He huffs,”For her mercy upon I.”

“Well I do believe you chose wisely, sir knight, you must have a dove upon thy shoulder.” The princess retorted, watching the two.

“Surely.” He answered with a quiet murmur.

Evalengia clapped her hands together with a loud distinctive laugh,”Well! Well! Well! I am announcing now,” She turned to the audience, her arms held out elegantly,”I shall be throwing a ball for the lovely duo displayed before you! All of the most noble and tasteful are invited!”

Kastiel never looked up faster,”A ball?” She spoke up.

Evalengia turned to her,”Why yes! A ball! You shall have the most delicate and exquisite espousal that a ball could ever offer!”

“Sister stop this…” Kastiel began,”That is not-”

The princess stopped her,”Oh well of course it is! I shan’t have my blooming kin have a distasteful wedding! Beside, it is no trouble, really.” She persisted.

    And with that, Kastiel grew silent. There seemed no point for argument. It was inevitable that the day would come were she became barred to a man, she was royal blood, she could never express her buoyancy for other ladies. She would bring her family shame and would be burned to death by fire in a bundle of sticks. She knew she could never be able to be wed to her love.

“Okay.” She conceded,”There shall be a ball.”

“Excellent!” Evalengia clapped with joy, inauthentic glee of course, and grabbed her sister’s hand, looking back to the crowd,”Onward! We must make on our leave, we have a wedding to plan!”

This made the bunch cheer as Evalengia led her younger blood away, into the canopy and through the doors. Away they went to the castle…

It was just minutes before the ceremony was to begin and Kastiel now sat alone in her quarters, staring at the woman looking back at her in the mirror. Candles flickered all throughout the room, and a fire burning brightly behind her; this reminded her of the price she’d pay if the truth were released. She loved her maiden, but the punishment for that would be everlasting. And she would never see her fair lady again.

Kastiel was dressed in the finest of gowns and linen. Her dress beaded with blue and green jewels along her bust and down her waist, the cloth of the dress a faded white, and the train puffed and lined with gold lace at the bottom. Her sides hurt along with her heart. The corset seemingly extra tight, but that may just be the nerves racking up inside of her chest.

Her beautiful black hair had been pulled up into a glorious chignon du cou with extravagant braids leading into the knot of hair sitting on the nape of her neck. Her pale skin had been flushed with pink and her lips stained with a deep red. Her appearance was lovely, but the feelings inside of her, were not.

Stopping her rampage of thoughts a small dainty knot came at the door. After a moment of consideration she cleared her throat,”You may enter.” She called out.

She kept her gaze upon the reflecting glass, only expecting a maiden or Evalengia..but not her maiden.

Only there stood was Deana, her fiery, rebel-hearted lover, with hair of gold and brown and green eyes that seemed to fight all of the darkness in Kastiel’s world. Her Deana, standing before her, maybe even for the last time.

“I had to come…” Deana began,”I couldn’t let you go without a goodbye, my love..” Her voice was quiet, and it shook with fear. Kastiel stood and slowly closed the space between them, grabbing Deana’s elbows gently,”Deana, sweet hearted girl. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Kas… Our goodbye will not be sad. I want to remember you like this, as a beautiful bride..” Deana reached up and brushed the girl’s hair back with the gentlest of touches. “We both knew this day would come..A day were you would no longer have a chance to run from the cruelness of man.”

Kastiel blinked quickly to fight back tears, her hand tracing down Deana’s forearm and into her soft hands. She clutched them tight,”Deana...I don’t want to marry him.”

“You must.”

“But-”

“You must Kastiel, if you try to disobey the king he’ll be suspicious.” Deana whispered with a hush.

“We could run.” Kastiel said smoothly,”They’ll never chase after us. I am not heir to the throne, Evalengia is.”

Deana stopped, “Are you ill?” Her eyes were wide and searching over her love.

“No. I’m fine. And completely sane.” Kastiel’s tone was serious and somber.

Deana took a moment then nodded, “Okay..we shall go tonight.”

Kastiel’s mouth grew into a smile, “We shall.”

Deana pulled Kastiel into a firm hug that made her heart beat faster and her sadness, it seemed to disappear like smoke.

That night it was cold and fat snowflakes fell quickly, this did not stop the women from making their escape. The horse’s hooves  beating into the snow as the women raced along. Deana pushing ebony horse to go faster, further away from the chains of social imprisonment of what the village, the people, and the royal council believed they should be, not who they were. It was this motivation and the women’s love for one another that would keep Kastiel safe from her older sister’s wrath. In this cold night, Deana and Kastiel burned a flame of courage. A flame of love all their own.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Like many events it happened upon a time, but it did not happen once.

There was a girl. She had hair the color of sun warmed wooden floorboards and it took immense pride in itself. It felt it lent a sense of sophistication and elegance to the girl’s face. It was pulled up in a messy tie and straggled defiantly into the girl’s face.

She knelt on the pebbly shore of a bubbly stream, her hands tangled in wet clothing. She scrubbed it against a wash board, and it must be supposed that the pile of laundry beside her wasn't all hers. It was heaped high with tunics, trousers, undergarments and the few odd dresses or skirts. A basket of clean wet clothes rested on her other side and soon received the tunic she had pounded and wrung free of dirt.

To one side of the clearing was a modest little cottage. It was a proud structure, kept tidy and well tended, but a little lonely. The rest of the village was quite a ways down the forest path, and it had no one to gossip with over its occupant.

The girl, and the stream, and the cottage were cupped in a clearing. Trees, ferns, mosses, and shrubs all graciously gave way to a cleared space where the girl kept a loved garden of vegetables and tended to the laundry she took in.

The girl went to the village as seldom as she could. She attended the fairs and festivals out of a sense of duty rather than any desire for the company of others. Blushing boys would sidle up beside her and ask, would she dance with them? And looking at her toes she would politely shake her head. Would she grace them with a song? No, she said. No.

They would be surprised, then, to have heard the music that spilled forth from her there under the shady canopy. Her song twined and twisted through the trees, draping itself over branches, notes drifting away toward the sky. Her voice was pure as a bell and sweet as the first press of cider in the fall.

Her hands worked and at first she didn't see her visitor, so caught up was she in the music. But there on the edge of the clearing, drawn by the beautiful music, was an enchanting little bird. It was quite small, a little bundle of rainbow feathers.

A casual observer might say the bird was in shades of red, and orange. But a second look showed that it's feathers were every color of the rainbow; greens, purples, blues, they ended in a shimmer at the tip of each feather.

This bird though would never have a casual observer. It shone in such a delightful spectrum that the second an eye touched it the watcher’s attention would be irrevocably caught. It moved through the trees like a spark, getting just a little closer to the stream and the song.

The girl looked up. There was something canny and quick in her eyes that few observed. The blushing boys had never been able to meet her eyes. But in their depths was a wariness that wild things know, a stillness of infinite patience. And they saw the tiny rainbow bird in the branches on the far side of her clearing.

Many people, when faced with a wild creature they don't wish to startle, will move slower. They will try to act gently, and quietly. There is no mistake greater than this if you want a wild thing to trust you. They move with the utter silence of the truly hunted, the clumsy attempts of humans to soften their steps and movements shrieked at them to flee.

The girl did not gentle her hands on the washboard, water still splashed and burbled under her hands. The bird watched her with interest, and even from so far there was a bright bead of intelligence hiding in the gleam of its eye. She stole glances from under her lashes, hardly feeling anymore the cold water on her callused hands.

 The bird flew closer and the girl's voice faded away in wonder. It was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. Each feather seemed limned with light and radiance. Her numb hands moved steadily though, scrubbing the clothes, wringing, setting them in the clean pile. The bird opened its beak and music poured out, rich and heady. If the girl's song had been the first press of cider then the bird's song was the fiery intoxicating burn of its brandy.

The song ended on an imperious note and the girl realized her music had drawn it close. If she would keep its company she needed to sing. Her mind fluttered emptily, sweeping frantically for more songs she knew.

She hesitated and the bird looked a whisper away from flying off. She gasped the start of a new song, a half remembered lullaby, soft and crooning to draw the little creature toward her. Its head tilted first one way and then the other so I could regard her with each eye. And then it joined in, harmonizing with her, and they were both transfixed with joy at their duet.

She looked down at her washing and when she looked back up it was two trees closer. And she had misjudged its size. It wasn't the little song bird as she'd thought, but the size of a sweet dove. Their verses poured around the forest and the trees sighed softly as the song slid around their roots, touching their gnarled wooden hearts. The lullaby softly and gently drew to its close. The girl gave it a pause, letting the song settle. Then she started a lament she had heard a traveling minstrel sing once.

She moved the wet, clean garment to her pile and when she looked back up the bird was closer still. It was the size of a raven and gleamed, still singing along with her. The mournful notes sobbed through the air between them. Catching the rhythm of its game she lowered her eyes, reaching for the next tunic in her pile. She heard the faintest rustle and felt the air vibrate with movement above her.

When she looked up the bird was on a branch very close by her, and it gleamed almost painfully. It was the size of a golden eagle. It had a regal crest, almost a crown, each feather shimmering through the spectrum of colors. Its tail feathers poured down the branch like a river made of precious stones and magic. She had never seen rubies, emeralds, sapphires, but if someone had shown them to her in comparison to this cascade of feathers they would have come out the poorer.

The lament ended with the sweetheart lost forever at sea and she dropped her eyes to her washing. The silence rang in the forest, stark and raw after the sound of their singing. She didn't know how close the bird would come and she trembled to wonder how large it would be beside her, but not in fear.

The silence drew out and she softly began a new song. It was in a language she didn't know, sounds and syllables from far far away, just lovely gibberish now. She looked up and her song stopped stumbled and fell to a halt.

The bird stood before her, clad in a cloth made of downy rainbow feathers. It wrapped around her protectively, leaving her shoulders bare and showing a proud length of ankles. Her hair was mostly shades of red and orange, but you could see strands of every color hiding in the highlights and lowlights. A full rainbow hid in the long gleaming strands. Her lips were trepidatious, a smile hovering uncertainly nearby. There was no question that the splendid creature before her now was her singing friend, every line of the bird shouted her nature.

The girl was still, and she knew she should keep washing but the bird was so beautiful. She felt drunk, and she could dimly feel the trousers drifting out of her tingling fingers. The bird stepped closer, and her movements were still sharp, and quick, and quiet. Heat washed over the girl. At first she thought it was just a blush but the bird radiated warmth. A hand darted down and caught the washing from the girl's slack grip before it drifted away.

The girl blinked at the bird. And they smiled. The stream fled passed in an embarrassed rush beneath them, quick to be elsewhere. The bird held out her arms and the girl lifted the heavy basket of now wet clean clothes and between them they carried it to the washing line. It was strung between two stalwart trees who were pretending to take no notice of the proceedings.

The bird passed each garment to the girl and they worked in happy silence. Soon the bird began to whistle and the girl hummed along, the jaunty tune bouncing along the washing line like an excited puppy. Soon the clothes were all hung and the two sat in the strong summer sunshine.

The bird watched the girl with eyes that were a color with no name. Somewhere between green, and grey, and blue was the color of her eyes. The girl felt as awkward and bumbling as the shy village boys but through small shifts and tiny movements soon they were sitting quite close together. Their arms brushed and the bird's skin was very warm, and her skin was very soft.

The girl admired the bird's hair. Stricken with an idea she brushed a hand down the bird's arm, urging her to stay and trotted away to her cottage. The bird moved sharply, her eyes going alert but calmed when the girl returned with a bone comb. The girl settled herself behind the bird and began to run the comb through the bird's hair.

A slow happy hum was her reward. With no care for propriety and despite the scandalized hush from the stream the bird lay down with her head in the girl's lap, her hair a waterfall of silken colors. The girl's heart squeezed unexpectedly but her hands knew what they were about and combed back the beautiful cascade. She marveled at each strand of green, indigo, pink. They hid among the bright vibrant reds and oranges like secrets.

The girl's fingers began to divide sections of hair and braid them together with practiced motions. The bird seemed intrigued, looking up at the girl's face curiously. The girl just smiled and pressed a hand against the bird's bare shoulder bidding her wait. They both froze for a moment at the contact and the girl pulled her hand back, burying it again in the bird's hair.

When she was finished the bird's hair was an elaborate coil of braids. There was no pins or pomade to hold it in place so it hung with loose elegance. The bird sat up and her fingers wonderingly explored the confection her hair had become. The girl drew her to a still place by the stream where she could see herself sometimes and motioned that the bird should look at the creation.

The bird leaned over the water curiously. The pool beamed back at her, proudly presenting her reflection. The bird seemed stunned. She turned this way and that to regard the braided coronet, her hands fluttering up to adjust strands and touch the foreign thing her hair had become. The girl stood nearby, anxious to see how the bird felt about her handiwork.

The bird rounded on her and reached confidently up to the girl's hair. The girl froze, the bird was pressed close against her front. The bird's hands moved through her hair, burying themselves in the warm richness. Suddenly they found the scrap that had held it tied up and pulled it free. The girl's hair tumbled free over her shoulders and she stared into the bird's intent face. The heat rolled off her in gentle waves and the girl bit the inside of her cheek.

The bird's movements slowed. She ran her fingers gently down through the girl's hair. She looked at the ends and turned them, twisting curiously. She reached up to one loose wave, her fingers turning. Slowly a small frown formed on her face. The girl had half closed her eyes and was breathing in the heat and the smell she was just noticing of cinnamon and honey that came off the bird's skin.

The girl opened her eyes to regard the bird's frustration. She looked down and smiled at the knot the bird had tied in her hair. She laughed softly and the noise made the bird startle and go rigid, watching her in fascination. She reached up and untied the knot. She pulled the bird down to sit and combed her hair quickly. She pulled a section free and showed the bird how to separate it into thirds and the over-under motions of a braid.

The bird touched absently at her elaborate braids and the simple one she was being shown and shook her head. The girl smiled and handed her the comb instead. The bird made a little sound of pleasure and pulled the girl into her lap. The girl tensed but relaxed as the comb started moving through her hair. The bird's dress was soft against her cheek. She moved her hand to touch the feathery material and her calloused hands caught on it. She dropped her hand, embarrassed, and suddenly the bird was gripping her wrist. She looked intently at the girl's hands to her face, puzzled and worried.

The girl's fingers curled, hiding the roughened surface of her palms and fingers. Her hand hid in shame of what hard use had done to it. Her wrist tingled pleasantly under the bird's gentle grip though, not wishing to be anywhere else. The bird nuzzled her face into the girl's palm and kissed it gently. The girl's hand suddenly realized how right her wrist was and delighted in the contact. The fingers opened and the bird left little kisses on each callous and scar.

The girl was a blush in the bird's lap and when the bird pulled her face back their eyes locked. The bird smiled and moved her face toward the girl's, waiting. Patience and stillness was in her manner and the girl saw that the bird was waiting for permission. She closed the distance between them.

The sun blushed as it lit the peaceful clearing, and the music from earlier drifted slowly from the places it had been caught around the forest. Wisps of notes dragged away in the wind from the tree branches. Small bugs and little creatures moved through the song the had wound around the tree roots, scuffing the pattern and dispersing it. The jaunty tune was bounced away as little bird's bounced on the clothes line looking for food below. The tiny creatures would pause to revere the scene below, paying homage to the firebird and her beautiful human companion before flitting away.

Once the girl tried to draw the bird into her cottage and bed but the bird froze in panic as the walls closed around her, so instead the girl brought pillows and blankets out into her clearing. She made for them a little nest. The sun began to set reluctantly, its bashful beams now reluctant to leave the two lovers. The girl would have been cold but heat continued to pour off the bird as the night deepened. She seemed almost to glow in the lowering light, her bright hair the only screen protecting them both.

 The girl's simple grey dress kept company with the mysterious feathered garment the bird had worn, crumpled under a tree. The moon rose overhead and crickets and frogs began to chirp and sing. Slowly when the small sounds and murmurs faded away the girl's voice rose in a gentle silly song she had made up when she was little. The bird caressed her face and her hair as she sang and together they drifted into sleep.

The girl woke to see the bird standing naked in the moonlight. She pillowed her head on her arm, admiring the lines of the bird's silhouette. The bird reached down and donned her feather cloak, and it settled over her, seeming to be a dress once more. She looked up at the sky and the girl was suddenly alarmed. The bird was going to fly away. She sat up and cried, "Wait! Will you come back?" She regretted instantly saying anything.

It was the first time she had spoken, and she watched the words thump into her companion like stones. With a cry the poised bird leapt into the sky, twisting until her huge wings beat hard against the night sky.

She was the size of a glowing golden eagle. A beat of her wings.

She was the size of a gleaming raven. A flap.

She was the size of a sweet dove. A glimmer and a cry.

She was a little songbird.

And then she was gone.

The girl curled into the cold nest of blankets and pillows and cried.

 ***

 There was a girl. She had hair that was a fizzy pink and it bubbled and felt it loaned the girl a fun and playful attitude. The girl lived by the edge of the forest. Her apartment building faced the trees. A calendar on the wall behind her had a date circled in red marker. The day was getting warm, and the windows were open. The breeze stirred nosily through the rooms, ruffling pages and brushing strings. She tidied the instrument cases away to the walls and closets, moving stacks of sheet music away into new messy piles that were in less danger of blowing away. She glanced at her watch and headed for the door. She snagged a violin case on her way out the door, slinging it over her shoulder.

She could hear the tv of her neighbors through the thin walls and sighed. She locked her door and headed out. She had headphones on, and they kept her hair pulled back from her face. Her hands had callouses where the instruments used them hard, but the callouses were quite proud of themselves and weren't begrudged space.

She could play harp, guitar, cello, fiddle, and upright bass. She had a lot of time to practice. She was learning piano, but her hands didn't take to it as easily. She drew close to the park and stepped under the trees. She breathed in the moist and secret scent of the forest and smiled. This patch of woodland had been protected for a very long time. Rent had gone up in the area closest to the trees but the girl wasn't in danger of losing her home. She taught singing and music to gifted children with rich parents.

She found a little clearing in the woods and looked up. The sky was blue and cloudless. She pulled open the violin case and carefully tuned it. She glanced up again. She set her bow to the strings and began to play. Her hands warmed up and the violin burst with impatience to play reels and jigs. She held it steady and played a slow, sad song. She began to sing.

No one alive would have recognized the song of a sailor parted from his love, but it wound familiarly around the trees. Their knotty hearts expanded to hear it once again as the music unspooled around their trunks.

There were scientists fascinated to note that the trees in this particular clearing didn't grow any taller, or older. They simply flourished in a beautiful stasis. They hadn't noticed that there were squirrels here older than many humans. That there were beetles here who had been bustling and rustling through the surrounding undergrowth for centuries.

And against the blue of the sky was a flash of red and there was a bird at the far end of the clearing. It was a compelling little songbird. The girl smiled and kept playing, looking down and then up. Closer by was a red, gold, and yellow bird like in size to a dove. She looked down and up, and almost to her was a radiant gleaming bird the size of a raven with eyes fixed on her. There was a bead of intelligence hiding in the gleam of its eye. She broke her gaze away and looked down. Above her was a magnificent enormous bird the size of a golden eagle. And grinning widely she looked down and up once more and there stood the firebird grinning just as widely.

She placed her violin down with care and ran into the bird's arms. Their laughter rang up through the tree canopy and the clearing sighed happily, feeling the life and love drifting through it. Every summer the clearing was kissed by magic, all of its denizens blessed. The girl was patient, and the bird always came back.

Once upon a time.

Twice upon a time.

Every summer for all time.

 The end

[calamity-writes]

Ships to Wreck - 02

[ Part 1 ] [ x ]

Rahlen belongs to @picchar

Whoever the mage was, he sure talked a lot for someone who'd lost a lot of blood. He was also... terribly handsome, even pale and high on elfroot oil and the elfroot-nug soup. Dark hair, and his eyes had been blue like the sky on a clear day. Even passed out, mouth slightly open as he snored, Fenlin couldn't get over how people could just look like that. Naturally.

Feeling her cheeks warm, Fen rolled her eyes at herself. It wasn't like she was some shy elf who was hiding away from the clans and- okay that was exactly what she was. Exactly why she'd volunteered to take on the patrol out here in the middle of nowhere. No elves to worry about, no shems to worry about, just keeping an eye on the movements of the Qun.

Fenlin had been riding a thermal over the water when she'd spotted the frigate flying Ferelden colours. Watching the dreadnought lie in wait with her hawk's eyes, helpless to stop the attack. Still, she'd dove into the water, shifting again to a more robust shape to help drag the survivors to safety. She'd managed the one. One out of a whole ship of sailors.

That's why she was so invested in making sure he survived the wound on his leg, Fenlin told herself. He was the last one, the only one she'd pulled from the water. Even if she had been able to go back for others, even if he hadn't panicked and slashed at her, the Dreadnought had torn the ship to pieces. Even if- but those had all happened, and she hadn't realised how badly he was hurt until she'd seen the chunk of wood sticking out of his leg.

If she had gone back, he very well might have bled out, lying there on the shore. Fenlin had made the decision on instinct, but she didn't regret it. She just wished there'd been some way to save the others... somehow.

With a sigh, Fenlin crept over to where the man lay sleeping, and gently rolled her blankets back from his hurt leg. The bandage wrapped around his thigh was neat, but already showing red through the linen dressing. Fenlin frowned, gently resting the back of her hand against the skin next to the bandage to feel if it was hotter than the skin a few inches away. Nervous, she glanced up at the man's face to make sure she didn't wake him up.

At the gentle touch, he groaned, brow knitting together, but he stayed asleep. Letting out a shallow breath of relief, Fen turned back to her work. As gently as possible, she unwound the strip of linen from his leg, wincing every time he groaned or shifted.

The wound itself was still angry and severe, but as Fen leaned in to get a close look at it, she could see that the worst of the bleeding had stopped. That was good, and so was the edges of the wound. They were swollen but no sign of infection.

The handsome man was going to have one hell of a scar, despite Fenlin's clumsy attempts at healing spells. If they were closer to a town, she could bring him in to the local healer, but they weren't close to anything but rocks and caves and spiders. She was also running low on linen, so sooner or later, Fenlin was going to have to pay a visit to some of the more spidery caves and steal some of the silk. Not one of her favourite places, but between his leg and her side, they'd used up her stores of bandages.

Fen hovered her hands over the wound and closed her eyes, pulling the healing spirits close to help her as she worked.

Time passed, but how much, Fenlin wasn't sure. It was maybe close to dawn, and healing the mess of torn flesh had exhausted her. Fen was many things, but talented or skilled healer was not one of them. She'd gone slowly, careful to get each step right so the man wasn't accidentally crippled. Now, rocking back, she rubbed the heel of her left hand into her throbbing forehead and looked down at the scab she'd left behind. It would still take another few nights of healing before the wound was gone completely, replaced by shiny pink scar tissue.

At least now the man wouldn't be in severe pain whenever he woke next.

She redressed the scab so it wouldn't catch on the blankets, then pulled them back over him. What was left? something... Fenlin squinted, eyelids heavy. She'd rest once the sun was up, there were just a few more things left to do.

**

Rahlen woke slowly, with the heavy feel of cottonmouth and steady ache on his thigh. At first he was sure he was about to fall forward, into the green tarpaulin, and he started, grabbing onto the sides of the mossy bed he lay on.

Eventually the world readjusted to normal, and he looked over to see the elf was still there, curled up around what looked like his shirt. On the ground. Next to her, his trousers were folded neatly by the coals of the fire.

It was day, but the skies were grey, and Rahlen could hear a lazy patter of rain on tarp over their little camp.

Gingerly, Rahlen eased himself up to sit. The world tilted a little, but he breathed through it until the stars around his vision faded. Pulling the Blankets with him, Rahlen eased himself over on his hand and good leg to sit next to the elf. The effort moving even that much was enough to bring back the prickling of stars in his eyes.

He'd sit for a while, Rahlen reasoned. Then he'd pull on his trousers and shirt. If she'd let it go, that was. Rahlen pulled gently at the shirt that the elf was clutching. She groaned, and curled around it even more tightly.

Odd... but he wasn't in a position to fight over it right now. Instead, he pulled one of the blankets off him and tucked it over her so she wouldn't be cold. she'd been sleeping on the rocky ground, there was no way she could have been comfortable like that.

With his saviour asleep, and his leg too achey to move just yet, Rahlen took a moment to look at her without the fuzz of the pain killing whatever of earlier. Tan skin speckled with freckles and small branching designs tattooed over her cheekbones.

Dalish, he supposed. Though the elves had slowly been disappearing from Thedas, so where had this one come from? Her hair was white, or had been before she'd gotten moss and bits of twig and gravel in the braids. Reaching out, Rahlen started pulling the worst bits of detritus free, tossing them into the fire's coals.

**

Something tugged at her hair.

Fenlin frowned, opening her eyes to see if the local nugs had returned. She didn't mind the little critters, but they had a habit of plopping their hands on her face and Mythal only knew where //those/ things had been. 

But no. It was not a nug.

Sitting by her was the handsome man and he was gently tugging at her hair.

Letting out a surprised gasp, Fenlin sat upright and clutched at her hair. Equally surprised, the man pulled back, hands coming up to show her his palms.

"Sorry! You had a twig in your hair," he said. "I was just trying to get it out."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Fenlin probed the bun of braids for this supposed stick. When she found it, half tugged free but still stuck in her hair, Fenlin felt her entire face grow hot.

The man lifted his eyebrows, and his lips pulled into a smirky sort of smile that was both annoying and devestating to her composure.

"Let me get it out for you, it's the least I could do after you've been taking care of me," he said. "I'm Rahlen, and you are...?" he waited, watching her. Fen watched him back before lowering her hands with a sigh and tilting her head his way.

"The strong silent type I guess," Rahlen said.

Fen shrugged a shoulder, shifting so the slash along her side wasn't tugging her skin more than it had to. To her surprise, she felt Rahlen undoing her braids. When she tried to look at him, he turned her head back so he could keep working.

"Some of these aren't coming out unless you take the braids out," he said. "My sister used to make me play with her hair, I won't yank chunks out, if that's what you're worried about."

Well... Fen hadn't been worried until he mentioned that was even a possibility.

"So, why won't you tell me your name? Is it a Dalish tradition?" He asked. True to his word, he was being careful, and Fen slowly let herself relax. She shook her head ever so slightly, at the question.

How was she supposed to explain that she'd traded a spirit her voice for help in healing him? She couldn't exactly write it out on a scrap of parchment. Fen chewed on her lip, thinking.

"It's okay, you don't have to. I just don't want to be rude and think of you as 'elf'," Rahlen was saying. her hair was down now and she could feel him plucking out bits of things. How many twigs had gotten in there? Her ears were still hot and getting hotter as she imagined a whole tree stuck in the white strands.

"All done, do you want me to braid it again?" Rahlen asked, combing his fingers through her hair. The touch felt nice, but shyness got the best of her. Fenlin shook her head, shifting to half-face him. Combing her own fingers through her hair, she started to braid the sections of hair like she usually did each morning. Well... most mornings. Every few mornings. Living as a hermit had not really made hair tidiness a priority.

When she was done, she chewed at the corner of her lip, then reached out and tapped the back of Rahlen's hand.

"Yes?" he said, lifting his eyebrows. This time his smile was less smirky and twice as devastating and Fenlin's ears were sure to burn up to ashes at the express. "Is it that you don't speak common?" he asked, looking at her.

Fen sighed, rolling her eyes with frustration. Not at him, just the situation. Reaching out, she caught his hand and gently placed his fingers against her neck. Then she tried to speak, to say a simple hello. The vocal chords buzzed against his fingertips, but not a sound came out.

Rahlen blinked.

"Oh," he said, the spark of realization catching in his eyes. "You can't speak."

Fen nodded, letting go of his hand. She shrugged, a way of apologizing. Then she realised the tips of his fingers were still resting against her throat. Turning red, she slapped his hand down.

At least she had the small satisfaction of seeing his ears turn pink, as he stumbled through an apology.

Waving it away, Fen picked up the shirt she'd almost finished mending, and tied off the last few of her stitches. It was stained but the holes from her bear's mouth were sewn closed. So too were the tears on his trousers. They weren't the smallest or most delicate of stitches, but they'd hold, and it was better than wearing tatters in this weather.

Thrusting both garments at him, Fen pushed herself up to her feet with a wince.

"Wait, I am sorry," he said, catching the clothes. "Please don't leave."

Annoyed now, Fen gestured at the clothes, then pointed at herself and then pointed at the empty pot of soup from the night before. They needed food, and they needed spider silk. The rest could wait, and she wasn't about to sit and watch him change.

"You'll be back?" he asked, and Fen nodded. She carefully pulled on her oilcloth poncho to keep off the worst of the rain and ducked under the edge of the tarpaulin.

Once out of view, she rested her fingertips against her throat, sure she could still feel Rahlen's gentle touch there.

As soon as he was able to walk, she decided, she was marching him to the nearest town and getting rid of him. Those smiles were dangerous.

[tales-of-abysia]

Mind of a Madman - The Flood (1/4)

(This is the #1 of a 4-part blog. These are all from months ago, and it took me a long time to form them into the right words, to get it all together. You can also find them with my #theflood tag below if you find it hard to get them straight.)

Several months ago...

Azure stood, staring out at the ocean below, the rusted tops of buildings poking through it’s agitated surface like pins through cloth. The surface of this great sea rippled like rainfall, but flipped around like the drops were coming from below. The wards keeping the two separate were growing weak, and the barrier was close to tearing. It wouldn’t take much now, nor would it be long. He knew it was coming to a head, and his emotional state was similar. For a few hours now he had tried to drown back this conflict, but finally it was upon him. He played with a dark circle on his finger and then vanished into the outside world. Nobody expected what would come next.

Artisan and Mikendo rested in a large circular area outside the Library, sitting with Clora and Lexi as they played a small game with a board and dice. Mikendo had a tendency to win due to his quick reactions, but Artisan's prolonged deep thought would occasionally prosper. Their conversation was full of laughter, but forced a hit as if to try and relieve a tension. Mikendo rolled the dice and quickly snatched a green piece, moving it to corner a silver-painted one. “Check, mate.”

“But not checkmate.” Artisan grabbed the dice from the board as a sound distant but high in pitch shifted overhead, sliding across the sky. They each looked over as the ring of light high in their sky slid down to meet the ocean's horizon line. There it cracked, leaving two fourth-circles visible over the water, reflected perfectly by the tumultuous surface. The area between shone red for a single moment, like a stray beam of light coming to greet them. The elevator nearby began to glow, and then the bluish-gold light erupted into a violent red-violet. Mikendo lifted up his hands and then slammed them down as the light reached it’s peak, and a strange fluid built up into a crimson blob.

Mikendo soared upward as his burst of air pushed the gameboard and pieces in every direction. His friends all fell backwards as the crimson blob lurched toward them and sliced the ground where they stood with a loud crack. This blob rose into a form similar to Jaxx and Kage. Many green eyes opened along it’s head and down along the spine, each looking in different directions for a moment before centering on two targets, Clora and Lexi. A terror built up in Lexi's core and she pushed forward, emitting a wave that was barely visible. This manipulation bent around the Crimson one and impacted Clora, sending her back to the wall of the library where the wave hardened into a clear container. A thin splash of the Crimson one followed, slamming into the hardly visible surface like a mouth. The creature then turned to Lexi and gave her all attention. Artisan sat back up, having knocked over from the burst of air. By the time Mikendo had hit the ground again, Lexi had already turned away and began running. Clora pounded on the field holding her in place in panic as she was helpless to only watch. Two seconds had passed before Artisan slammed his hands down and brought a line of narrow stone pillars up from the ground between his little sister and the monster following. It did little to stop the creature, but slowed it down as it bulldozed through. Mikendo hopped up the broken fragments to gain height again before spinning in the air with his scythe and sending a razor wind toward his foe. The air split through the Crimson one and it reformed together on the far side of the debris field. Lexi turned a corner by making another small panel to push off of. The Crimson one slammed into it for a second before it’s surface grew numerous clawed hands it used to crawl along the wall after her.

The library doors creaked open just in time for Damien to see the Crimson one escape the courtyard after Lexi. Mikendo didn’t hesitate to pursue. Artisan turned to Damien. “Bane! It’s Crimson. Help Clora.”

Damien stared as the color drained from his face. “Behind you.”

Artisan turned to see the elevator pad grow in dark colors, the violet evolving into a deep, royal purple. A flood of small beasts cracked through the ground as the rift tore open wide. Dozens of smaller adversaries poured through. As they approached Artisan, a ring of light etched around the gate and rose into a wall, razing any that charged into it. Artisan stumbled back as it nearly took his fingers, only to watch the ring of light begin to fade and see Bastion across the courtyard with his sword impaled into the ground. He looked tired, annoyed, and a little ill as he shivered. The ground rippled again, very few of the dark beasts still within. A vaporous black ink around them caused their forms to be hard to see. A look of disbelief crossed their faces as a familiar figure walked out of the ring next. He was hooded, in dark padding with sharp details. He jangled like a tightly wound chain as he stepped forward, the rift below rippling and then rising like water at his feet. After a moment of examination, Darkside stepped off of the pad that had linked to the Chronos Bin. He gazed at Artisan a moment, but the fading light caused him to turn toward Bastion. As the defense ended and the water flowed past his feet, Bastion's eyes widened and he drew his sword from the stone below with a grunt. “Mother fucker.” His red eyes burned toward Darkside. “You fucking did it, didn’t you Derek?”

Darkside let out a cocky “Hmph” before holding his hands out and the running of chains sounded. In a single moment he was wielding two crude swords chained to his wrists, and he dove through the air at Bastion. Bastion slashed the ground between them and a wall of light rose beneath Darkside, sending the both of them sailing upwards into the next level of the city.

Bane released whatever had sealed Clora to the wall and the two of them approached the ring, where the remaining beasts had begun to escape. Damien swung a greatsword forward, his offhand holding a small shotgun engraved “Scarlet Rose” while Clora swung an electrified whip to beat them back. They assaulted what felt like endlessly as they critters slipped through in lower and lower numbers. “We'll be cleaning this for weeks,” Damien said as Clora let out a soft grunt to agree.

Finally, the gate began to ripple closed. As it shrank the water forced through in heavier amounts, until it rose up to the height of a person. It was then that the rush stopped, and the water fell downwards to the ground. Outside, the sea's surface came to sudden halt as She came through the Gate. Finally in her own skin, Aqua the betrayer stood at the center of Eclipse City. Her long hair braided down her back where a blue crystal was tied to the end, glowing cooly. Her figure was fit, yet buxom in the right places to allow her to easily balance and maneuver. So smooth in her movements, she flowed through the beasts surrounding her like water would pass by a field of trees.

Clora was first. Aqua grabbed her by the throat and slammed her beneath the water's surface. The pink electricity quickly dispersed through the great pond they’d suddenly found themselves in. Snuffed out. As Damien rose his shotgun toward her, a spear of ice grew from the water he stood in and through his arm, growing and cracking upon impact and causing his trigger-pull to go off-target. His reconstructed arm had failed him, and he was trapped. Aqua screamed, “I came back from death to put myself together again, not be torn apart!” A second hand reached over to Clora's throat and squeezed. Aqua's hair rose behind her, sopped in the water she came with. The crystal positioned over Clora's screaming, drowned face. “I was gonna pick up my innocence last, but you’re ripe for picking…”

A drop of blood landed in the water, caused by the pillar of cement shooting out of the ground and hitting Aqua in her face. She flew backwards as Clora shot up, her chest heaving as she coughed up water and struggled to breathe. Clora stumbled backwards to her feet, noticing after a moment that she no longer had her weapon in hand. Terror filled her heart before Artisan stepped between her and Aqua. “You’re as rude and bitchy as always.” His knuckles paled as his fist coiled around a stone club.

“Ha!” Aqua wiped blood from her lip and spit. “Still so very serious, Atlas. You remain a little slow though.” The water crackled, a flash freeze echoing through the fluid and over Artisan's feet. He didn’t pay it mind, instead keeping his grip tight. Spears of ice rose around him from all directions, and he slammed the tip of the club into the ice. As the spears met his tough skin they each shattered, as well as the ice by his feet. His quake had travelled just quickly enough. “Mikendo and I play often, he’s made me a bit quicker.”

“It’s a shame that Scythe isn’t here now… I wanted to play with him too.” Aqua heard the splashes coming closer, reinforcements were closing in. She rose her hands up, like cradling a ball of sorts. The water rose behind her in a great wave, crashing down with force as she swung both hands down. The water forced Clora and Damien backwards and slammed them into the walls of the courtyard, freezing up and over each of the walkways leading out. Artisan stood steady, the stone below his feet clinging over his legs like arms. It released him as he stepped forward. He opened his mouth to quip, but was interrupted as one of the ice walls shattered and a red blur entered into the clearing. Low to the ground and covered in a dark cloth, Mari seemed to glide across the ice to where Aqua stood. A long, round blade like a ring swung out and just barely missed Aqua's head as she leaned back. Aqua rose a leg and spun. With one kick to the core, Mari felt all the air leave her lungs. Aqua spun around until she was facing Artisan again, smirking widely as she saw him once more. “That’s two pieces that just ran right to me, like they want to come home!” She pressed down on Mari's chest with her clawed heel. Mari wailed in pain and went to swing, only to find her weapons stuck to the ground by the thin frost. It made sense, as Mari's abilities all used her blood as a base. There was a hiss and a whine before the ice wall cracked apart, steaming chunks from one of the many corridors landing with soft thuds. Techtonica stomped into the courtyard with a great burning blade in hand. “The waters rose and flooded my island. I knew you would be coming soon.”

“There are an awful lot of you here. Now Tech, aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I could ask you the same. Why are you even here? How did you breach the Bin?”

“I planted a little seed and when it blossomed I used it to claw my way out! I got lucky when I came across the revenant wandering through the underworld, and he showed me a tiny crack I was able to widen.” Aqua smirked, her pride overflowing. “I just had to wait for the right moment, right here. With proper pressure, the veil weakens and we can escape back to this place.”

Tech narrowed his gaze. “When you say Revenant, you mean Derek Siren? I’m appalled that he would do such a thing to help you. Nobody even likes you.” He raised a brow. “In fact, I’m surprised even the beasts listen to you.”

“What can I say? I’ve found that I’m intoxicating…” The crystal upon her hair was positioned just above Mari's throat. As she gulped, the cold, sharp tip gently grazed her flesh. “Now, if you come even a step closer then this one joins me down below.”

Mari turned her head toward Clora, and the two of them shared a look of despair. Mari mouthed the word “Sorry” to Clora before lifting her head and slicing the side of her face along the sharp edge. As she bled, it grew out straight instead of flowing like a liquid. She released the handle of the ring blade and grabbed the sharp spike of blood and swung it forward.

Aqua turned in surprise as Mari cut herself, the following swing went to Aqua's leg. She leapt back out of the range of the swing and then lowered herself, impaling Mari in the thigh with the crystal on her hair. Tech took this moment of distraction to charge forward, his large sword swinging down over Aqua. Aqua responded in turn by leaping back onto Mari -full bodied – and then rolling over her and dragging her across the icy floor toward the circle in the center of the room. As she was nearly upon it, Artisan stepped between her and the ring.

Aqua slid a moment, as if she would stop, but then changed her tune after a second, and leapt atop Artisan. Her crystal tore from Mari's leg and instead shot clean through Artisan's left shoulder. As he fell backwards, the two of them landed on the warp pad and in a blue flash they both vanished. Techtonica sighed, tearing his sword from the now cracked ground between his feet.

Mari sat up and turned immediately to Clora. “Sister. Mend me; I’m going after that bitch.” A growing puddle of blood grew beneath her leg, and thin lines of blood ran off of her face from the deep wound and into her dress.