#Dug herself out of an avalanche | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mappingthesky · 2 months

Note

angst prompt idea: they get into a fight and nymphia says ‘just leave me alone’ in the height of emotions but doesn’t really mean it, and jane would actually leave thinking that’s what she wanted, making nymph cry even harder

basically miscommunication at its finest

i said leave (but all i really want is you)

It’s been building in the way that all breakdowns do.

Everything accumulates. The things that are all manageable in the moment - the insecurities, inconveniences, odd interactions and instances of discomfort - start to stack up, sticking to each other like snow, feather-light flakes amassing into unmovable drifts, and suddenly they’re an avalanche crashing down upon her. All at once it becomes unbearable - the weight of the world which Nymphia has fought so hard to remain soft in spite of.

It’s not the first time that Nymphia has hit a rough patch, but it’s the first time Jane is here to see it, and for some reason it’s making Nymphia spiral out, like swerving to avoid the ice and driving them right off the fucking road.

It could be because she’s used to dealing with this alone. That she’s used to everyone assuming she’s alright, used to disappearing until she can find it in herself to be sunny and bright once more. It could be that she’s scared to let Jane see her like this, scared that every day she remains sullen is doing irreversible damage to Jane’s vision of her, whatever it is, and replacing it with this - the slow blinking, soft-spoken, unsure, shell of a girl that Nymphia is lost somewhere inside of. It could be that Jane is being so sweet about it, that every one of her tireless attempts to lift Nymphia’s spirits so clearly comes from her heart, that she’s so obviously willing to do whatever it takes. It could be that, because with every one of Jane’s displays of affection meant to make her feel just a little bit better, Nymphia feels guiltier. More frustrated with herself and her inability to pull herself out of the hole she’s in. More afraid that it’s their grave. More afraid that she’s dug it herself.

Maybe that’s what’s scaring her into silence now, as Jane tries to will her to open. She’s been rattling off things they could do for a few minutes now, trying to coax Nymphia out of the apartment with the promise of a walk around the park, or a trip to the thrift store, or slurpees at 7-11. It’s been days of this, and Nymphia wants it to happen just as badly as Jane does - for something to light her up, to pull her from the place on the couch she’s content to spend the rest of her life wallowing in, for some miraculous gleam to pierce through the low-hanging fog that’s clouding her vision. Jane sighs, and Nymphia feels too heavy to hold.

It’s not Jane’s fault. She’s unfamiliar with the freezing over of Nymphia’s feelings, unprepared for her aloofness after the bright, sparkling fizz of the first few months. She’s doing the best she can with absolutely nothing to go off of. Jane asks for the second time if it’s anything she’s done, and Nymphia feels worse than she did the first. “It’s not you,” Nymphia says, and can’t quite admit the other half of it out of some newfound fear. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I feel this way. I don’t know how to stop it.

“You would tell me if it was me, right?” Jane asks and it’s like a knife, her voice a thin blade of worry. It cuts right through Nymphia - that Jane thinks she could be to blame, when Nymphia has created this hurt all on her own. The truth is that there’s nothing Jane could do that would hurt her quite like this, in the specific way that Nymphia hurts herself. She doesn’t know how to confess something like that, isn’t sure she would want to even if she did. All she can do is nod, and the hot tears spill over as the thoughts completely overwhelm her.

Jane’s oh, Nymphia is crushed with concern, and she moves to comfort her so instinctively that it makes Nymphia’s heart break all over again, because it’s Jane we’re talking about -Jane, the girl who was too shy to make the first move or say the first I love you or shed the first tear is now breaking through her own emotional barriers to comfort her, coming to Nymphia’s aid like it’s as natural as breathing, and Nymphia is the one that’s too emotionally tapped to know how to respond to that. She feels Jane wrapping around her even though she’s unsure, can feel her wondering how to go about putting her back together, and all Nymphia can manage in the face of Jane’s bravery is to cry into her hands.

“Baby,” Jane says, and Nymphia can hear it in her voice - the mounting desperation, the options she’s running out of. “What can I do?”

Nymphia doesn’t know why it happens - why she goes cold when she so desperately wants to be warm. Why she becomes so irritable, why she leans so hard into her roughness when she knows what she really is - patient, kind, loving. The truth is, she’s exhausted. It’s hard work to be so soft-hearted. Sometimes it’s too much to ask.

So all she does is shrug, mumbles that there’s nothing Jane can do. She hears the words come out of her mouth in slow motion, and doesn’t know why she can’t stop them, why she can’t seem to say this is enough. Just hold me until I stop feeling like this. Just see it through with me.

“Hey. Talk to me, Nymph,” Jane says, soft and urging, like she can sense the words Nymphia can’t seem to bring to the surface. It’s more of a plea than a command, but all Nymphia can hear is the frustration buried at the back of it - the part of Jane that surely must be exhausted from her unrewarded efforts, exhausted by Nymphia’s inability to keep it together.

“I can’t read your mind, baby,” Jane reaches out to brush Nymphia’s hair from her face like it’ll reveal something, like she’ll find some semblance of an answer there. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Jane says as gently as possible, but it still sounds like a cue, like she’s begging for something to go off of.

“Okay,” Nymphia says, because she doesn’t have anything at all. “So go.”

She can feel it - the moment of impact. The moment Jane pauses, still mid-reach, still tucking Nymphia’s hair tenderly behind her ear. The moment lightning strikes, the moment the air goes electric.

Jane’s eyes go wide. She looks startled, dumbfounded, afraid to move. Her lips ghost open, breath visibly hitching in her throat. “What?”

”Go home,” Nymphia hears herself say, her voice a scrape against her own soul, a contradiction to everything she cares about. She sees Jane wince, watches as the reality sets in, and the right words feel farther away than ever.

“Nymphia,” Jane shakes her head, scrambling to find her footing amidst the shaking of the ground they’ve been standing on. “I don’t think I-“

”Just go, Jane,” Nymphia forces the words through her teeth and can’t seem to figure out why she sounds so angry.

She watches the pain rippling out across Jane’s face, the searing flare of her eyes. The way Jane watches and waits for Nymphia to change her mind, the way she looks like she’s going to reach out again but doesn’t, the way she awkwardly rises from the couch and looks around the room like she should have more to take with her. Like it’s wrong to leave without Nymphia beside her. The way she so obviously doesn’t know what to do with herself - whether to fight or to flee. The way she’s never sounded quite so meek as when she says goodbye and tells Nymphia to call her if she needs anything. The way she shuts the door so gently, like she’s trying to be silent, like she’s scared to upset Nymphia with something so insignificant as the click of the door even as she’s being shoved away. The way she pauses on the other side like she’s waiting for Nymphia to change her mind. The way that, when Nymphia doesn't move, her steps sound different as she walks the length of the hall - heavier, somehow. And then Nymphia knows why she’d sounded so angry - because she’s doing this to Jane. Because she’s doing this to herself.

There’s a few moments where she can bear the quiet, and then it all comes crashing down, because Nymphia is utterly, completely alone. Because she didn’t have to be.

Nymphia misses Jane from the moment she lets her slip away.

She spends most of the night sulking in it, recounting everything that led up to the moment when it all went wrong while the sun sets on her and what feels like everything else. She stays there until the room has gone dark, illuminated only by the far off glow of the hallway light, the blinking power button on the television, the electric green of the clock on the stove.

The night passes, and the sun rises whether she wants it to or not. She knows how this goes. She’s weathered this sort of storm before, knows that there’s nothing to do except feel her way through it. She’s done it before, but it’s not until she wakes that realizes she can’t do it again. Not in the same way she’s done it before. The ache is bigger now that she’s let someone in and shooed them away, and Nymphia desperately wants Jane to hold her hand through it, wants to go back in time and undo the thing that she thinks could do her in for the rest of forever.

She does it more times than she cares to admit - types out a long text message to Jane, deletes it, types a shorter one, deletes that too. The various iterations of the apology doesn’t matter. They all boil down to the same thing. i love you, i’m sorry, do you still love me?

They don’t matter, period, because Nymphia never sends them. She’s scared to see the damage she’s done, to inevitably take inventory of what survived her most recent storm. She hopes beyond belief that Jane will be the first to reach out, that she’ll magically know just what Nymphia needs in the way that all star-crossed lovers supposedly do, and is reminded fifteen times that afternoon that there is no such thing - that star crossed lovers are doomed from the start, that’s what makes them so. And just when Nymphia starts to think that Jane must truly hate her, that she must have already moved on and left Nymphia in the dust to chase after happier, more stable girls, she remembers that she’s the one who sent her away.

It’s on the third evening without Jane that Nymphia is forced to reemerge. She’s sat in the dark for longer than she cares to admit, has doom scrolled far past the point of finding anything interesting, and has effectively run out of anything remotely appetizing in the pantry. And so she rises, drags herself into the shower and lets the hot water remind her that there’s something inside her that can still be warmed. She pulls on something she can disappear inside of, sweeps her still-drying hair into a ponytail and slips on her headphones. When she emerges from her apartment building and onto the city streets, she’s reminded that there’s still a world out there - a world that will carry on with or without her, a world in which anything can happen. It doesn’t matter that she’s doing it on her own terms, replacing the noxious whirr of the world with her own personal soundscape - as she walks the seven minutes to the supermarket, she’s meeting that world halfway. It’s a win in itself.

She’s only feeling so brave on this particular trip, so she sweeps through the aisles quickly, eager to get home and label today a success, if only for her brief stint in human interaction. She plucks a few things off the shelves, whatever sounds remotely appetizing, and finds herself thinking of Jane; her insistence on satisfying Nymphia’s sweet tooth, on coming home with brown paper bags of flaky pastries or chocolate-covered confections or sweet, doughy balls of mochi. Missing Jane and all of the sweetness that comes with her, Nymphia rounds the corner, and nearly runs right into her.

Jane’s at the end of the aisle and reaching for a bag of those dark chocolates that she’s gotten Nymphia into, because of course she is. Her blonde hair is in a top knot and she’s dressed for comfort much like Nymphia is - leggings, a t-shirt, a cardigan slipping down her shoulder. She gasps ever so slightly, tugs the airpod from her left ear and looks back at Nymphia, a little awed and a little afraid. She looks so soft, so warm, so much like home that Nymphia just wants to curl into her, to give in to her completely.

“Hi,” Nymphia says and her voice wavers, because it’s the first word she’s spoken in two days, the first thing she’s said since she sent Jane away.

If the last Nymphia saw of her was Jane’s complete and total collapse, this is exactly the opposite. Jane’s eyes flash, her chest fills, and Nymphia wants to pour into her again and again. “Hi,” she says, and it’s almost a whisper, almost a smile on her lips.

Nymphia looks at Jane and doesn’t know where to start. There’s a breathlessness between them, a brink that they stand on together. Somewhere between uncertainty and sureness. Nymphia looks at Jane and knows where she wants to end.

Her eyes fall to the bouquet of sunflowers that peek out of Jane’s basket, pretty and plastic-wrapped. Nymphia has a horrible, gut-wrenching thought. Jane interrupts it.

”I, um,” Jane stammers, looking down and shaking her head at herself, mouth closing momentarily, a little ashamed of herself but admitting everything anyways. It’s a little sad, somehow still endearing. “I was gonna drop them off for you,” she shuffles her feet, avoiding eye contact. “And some other stuff,” she says, and Nymphia notices the things at the bottom of the basket. All of Nymphia’s favorites: the instant noodles, the hot chips, the loose leaf teas that Nymphia can never justify splurging on, and the strawberry bubblegum, and the dark chocolates with chili that Jane had been reaching for (because of course she did).

“Sorry. If that’s weird,” Jane sputters in the way Nymphia knows she does when she’s nervous. “I was going to call you. Or text. Um. But I didn’t-I didn’t know if you wanted to talk.”

“It’s not weird,” Nymphia blurts out, and Jane’s head snaps up. “It’s nice,” Nymphia hears herself say, but it’s so much more than that. “I wanted to text you.”

Jane blinks through the disbelief, and Nymphia wonders for the hundredth time what the last forty-eight hours have been like for Jane. Whether she spent them hoping beyond hope in the same way that Nymphia had. She thinks maybe she did, because:

“You did?”

It’s the shyest Nymphia has seen Jane since the very start, when both of them were so unsure and so obviously smitten in the way that women who fall for each other so often are: both so in love and so unwilling to believe that it could be possible.

”Yeah.” Nymphia suddenly feels like she could cry, and is suddenly aware that she’s feeling again. All at once she’s swept up in the exhilarating thrill of risking it all, of surrendering so completely to someone else. “I wanted to text as soon as you left.”

Jane’s breath sort of hitches and the look in her eye is so many things at once -hope, fear, relief, worry. They open their mouths at the same time, both start with, “I didn’t-”, both sort of gasp and start to laugh at each other, and it’s the best sound in the world, because Nymphia didn’t know if she could ever laugh again, if she’d ever hear that sound she loves so much - Jane laughing just for her.

“You go first,” Jane nods, and she could be giving Nymphia a second chance, except she doesn’t quite have to. Nymphia could never fail her, would never need a second chance. Jane would never write her off in the first place, would keep choosing her time and time again.

“I didn’t want you to go,” Nymphia says, because she wants to be honest with Jane; she feels that she owes her that much. So she speaks softly, slowly, making sure that every word is as close to what she means as possible. “I don’t know why I told you to leave. I was scared, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Jane shakes her head, “I didn’t want to go, Nymphia, I swear. I only did because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

”I know. I thought that’s what I wanted too.” Nymphia’s bottom lip is curling out and her eyes are starting to mist and she’s in the middle of a fucking supermarket. “But it’s not.”

Jane swallows. “No?”

“No,” Nymphia shakes her head, can barely get the words out without choking up, but she’s determined. She wants to. She doesn’t care who knows, just as long as Jane does. “I want you there with me.”

Through the first of the tears that are welling up in her eyes, Nymphia can see Jane resisting the impulse to reach for her, just barely holding herself back long enough to ask. “Can I-”

Nymphia sputters, half-laughing. “Please.”

This is the part that makes all the work of letting Jane in worth it - the part where Nymphia is completely enveloped by her, slotting so perfectly into place against her, because she isn’t meant to be alone. She’s meant to be with her. They aren’t star-crossed lovers destined for some ultimate doom, and they aren’t the stars of some great tragedy. They’re something so much simpler. Something so much better. They’re just each other’s people.

“Are you okay?” Jane says against her hair, not daring to let go, not even wanting to, because this is all she’s wanted from the start - to know what to do.

”I will be,” Nymphia squeezes tighter, eyes shut, savoring her return to safety. “Are you okay?”

”Yeah,” Jane says, and Nymphia can hear her smiling. “I think I will be too.”

#hi i never left here r my words :)#i can’t believe i haven’t posted a prompt in almost TWO WEEKS???#ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SCARED #headgleeksana did not beta read this one for me so don’t expect complete and utter brilliance…#if there r typos im so sorry but my eyes hurt i need to not look at a screen for a second #basically words r hard and this time they’re a lil too much for our girl. but it’ll be okay :)#nymphia having a sweet tooth is canon to me ok. I DONT CARE!!!#prompt #she writes #planymphia

38 notes · View notes

driftward · 11 days

Text

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - Free Day 1 - 8. Glasses Characters: Y'shtola Rhul, Zoissette Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: Y'shtola remembers her history with her Warrior of Light Notes: Part of the WoL path

There was a pair of glasses on the desk, recently repaired, the enchantments within them restored.

Y'shtola was a woman of poise and confidence, and even she found herself at a loss for words at what she had found. She stared at them, dumbstruck, for a moment that seemed to stretch and stretch, as she tried to gather her thoughts.

How long ago? How much history between then and now? How much history between them now?

A young Miqo'te girl in that indeterminate age of just around their growth leaned her head on her arms on one side of the desk, looking at at Y'shtola with big green eyes under silver hair. Her bangs were in traditional Miqo'te earrings, and she was wearing a traditional Sharlayan scholar's cloak, with simple blue slops, and simple, comfortable pattens.

On the other side of the desk stood an Elezen, seeming to be of like age to the Miqo'te girl. Tomboyish, with short brown hair, brown eyes, gently brown skin, dressed as a squire of Ishgard, in mail armor. She had her arms clasped behind her back, and was rocking back and forth on her feet, and she smiled broadly at the Miqo'te girl, who gave her a fond, but exasperated, expression back.

The two began to walk away, and Y'shtola got up to follow after them. One of the walls of her little space in the Pendants melted away, and she found herself walking along the shores of Limsa Lominsa. The two girls, just ahead of her, seemed older, now. The Miqo'te held her head tall, and walked with poise, confidence. The Elezen, well, she skipped along, seeming to look everywhere at once.

They found Zoissette, unconscious, on her back, but breathing, and apparently unharmed. Hopefully unharmed. Y'shtola rushed forward, feeling a tightness in her chest, crouching to help her up as she blinked awake.

"She seems a fool," said the Miqo'te girl, crossing her arms.

"But a kind one," said the Elezen.

Zoissette smiled gratefully at Y'shtola, and Y'shtola gave her a weak smile back as she stood up with her. She wanted to say something to her, but she knew not what. Zoissette dusted herself off, and turned away, and held her arms in a block as a golem slammed its fist down, shattering to pieces when it connected.

"Often ahead of you," said the Miqo'te girl, as Y'shtola grimaced and tended to Zoissette's wounds.

"Leading the way, almost," said the Elezen, and the Miqo'te scoffed.

"Leading where, I wonder?"

"Follow and find out."

"I suppose if I must, I must."

Zoissette dipped her head in a nod at Y'shtola, acknowledging her, and dashed forward into misadventure. Many were happy to receive of her strength. Many spent their own strength against her. She lifted up others, and sent them on their way. She guarded, she fought, she bled, she bled, she bled.

And Y'shtola hurried to keep up with her, seemingly always one step behind, seemingly always just barely not there in time. The two girls watched, silent now, as she conjured soothing healing, bandaged hurts, frowned and fussed over deeper injuries, as Zoissette was increasingly wrapped in bandages. As blood seemed to seep from a dozen dozen wounds. As bruises swelled and purpled and covered her bare flesh.

As she continued to stagger forward, meeting every challenge, Y'shtola one step behind.

Ifrit's fire left its burns, but was felled. Titan buried her in avalanche, but she dug herself out. Garuda howled, and sliced her skin to ribbons, but still she went, she went.

There were quiet moments, too. Moments they were allowed to stop, to breathe. And Zoissette would hum a soothing song as Y'shtola tended her wounds. She would smile gratefully, and nod when ready to go again.

"Intelligent, after all. Diligent. Dutiful," said the Miqo'te girl, smiling in a sense of satisfaction at last.

"Soft of heart, and mayhaps soft of head," said the Elezen with a smile of her own, laughing.

"Well," said the Miqo'te girl. "I for one am intrigued. There are hidden depths here."

"There are hidden depths everywhere, if you're only curious enough to look."

Y'shtola, distracted by their conversation, almost did not notice when Thancred stepped forth from shadow, and brought a dagger down upon her. The two girls ran and hid, and she turned, gritting her teeth, ready to meet him. But Zoissette was there, too, stepping in the way, and the dagger was in her heart, and she was falling to the ground, eyes lifeless, body limp.

Y'shtola wanted to cry out, but there was no voice in her throat. She was helpless as she watched a light pour into Zoissette, watched her rise, and watched as she lashed out with a powerful thrust of her own, and killed Thancred.

The light faded, and Zoissette crouched next to Thancred, bowing her head in silent prayer. He blinked, and stood once more, and as she lifted him up, he hugged her, sobbing into her shoulder. She patted him on the back consolingly, and turned him gently to Y'shtola.

Y'shtola remembered this. She reached up, and she hugged him, and held him tight, and Zoissette stood, facing away, a short distance away, allowing them their privacy. Y'shtola sunk her face into his shoulder, grateful.

"Something is not right," said the Miqo'te girl, who had been silent for a while.

The Elezen girl pointed, and shouted, a tidal wave of red wine flowing towards them, fit to drown them all.

Zoissette moved to guard both Y'shtola and Thancred, but Y'shtola touched her shoulder, and she vanished. And just as the tidal wave reached her and Thancred, she hugged him tight to herself once again, and tilted backwards, and fell through the surface of the ocean, plunging into its depths, even as she threw Thancred far, far away.

The colors of life quickly faded, light fading to blues and purples and then at last to a deep black, a depth to which no light would reach, and Y'shtola hugged her arms to her knees, curled up as she drowned in lightless depths beyond reach. There was no Miqo'te girl here. No Elezen girl, either. No Zoissette, no Thancred, nor anyone else.

Just Y'shtola.

And she held tightly onto herself. To do otherwise would be to lose herself, forever.

She knew who she was. She knew what she was. She knew why she was here, and she held that lifeline so tight that it was a part of her. She had done this in service to the star. It was her duty, to see Light shine forth, forever more, her sacrifice a minor one to secure a brighter future.

And in the depths, and in the dark, in the sightless sea, she could not hide from any truth. Nor would she, for she was not that kind of woman, but even for all that, there was one truth she had kept hidden from the world.

She had done this for Zoissette.

How could she not.

Her duty and her love were one and the same, were they not?

And that thought brought light to the depths. A dim hope.

An arm plunged into the abyssal waters, shining and bright, palm open fingers spread, and Y'shtola, after looking at it for a moment, reached up and grasped it and then she was free.

Zoissette set her down, and she took the first breath of an age, and she was.

And so were the Miqo'te girl and the Elezen girl.

"Dragon fang and heretic arrow," said the Miqo'te girl, looking around warily.

"Holy sword and primal might," said the Elezen girl, sorrowfully.

Zoissette said nothing, but simply picked up her sword and shield, and moved forward. Y'shtola was quick to run behind her, as Zoissette defended against draconic hoard and desperate people. As she lowered her head and held her shield in front of her and pushed against the terrible cold winds of history, even as their winds bit into her.

As she confronted a man who would be god, and a dragon who would destroy them all.

And Zoissette limped. And she floundered. And she bled. And Y'shtola, always one step behind, trying to keep her hale, keep her whole, keep her moving.

"The light to which all men look," said the Miqo'te girl, admiringly, holding up one of Zoissette's arms, to help her along.

A shadow fell over them, and Y'shtola looked up, into the face of a gigantic machine primal.

"A light which you saw fit to dun," said the Elezen girl. It sounded... accusatory.

Zoissette sat down and crossed her arms and faced away from the group, and Y'shtola touched a hand to her shoulder, feeling her ears droop, feeling her tail fall, feeling her feelings in her heart and in her throat and she remembered this too she remembered this too.

"It was difficult to ask for help regarding what may perhaps be our greatest mistake," said the Miqo'te girl, crossing her arms and also turning away.

"And so easy to put such undeserved burdens on another, that she almost turned away," accused the Elezen.

Y'shtola wanted to yell, to tell both of them to stop it, but every time she tried to speak, her throat seized, threatened to choke her very breath. So she instead crossed over to be in front of Zoissette, to try to gently lift her chin, to try to look her in the eyes, to try to tell her what she could not say.

The Miqo'te girl sighed. "Let me help," she said, quietly.

And Zoissette looked up, and closed her eyes, and nodded, and stood. And stood, and stood tall, and held her shield up, just as a giant beam of light erupted from the glowing eyes of the machine.

It was bright, too bright, but it faded, and Y'shtola was alone.

"Look out," intoned the Miqo'te, and Y'shtola threw her hands up in the air, just in time to create a shield to stop the sword that would cut her down. She grit her teeth, and steadied herself, and held, and held, but the shield would not hold.

She cried out, and he was through, and she looked down at herself, to see two hands there, palms pressed against her chest.

Zoissette's hands. Y'shtola was on the ground, her heart hammering in her chest, and Zoissette was crying silently, a flood of tears from her face pouring on Y'shtola, soaking her, tears mixed with blood.

It felt like Zoissette was holding her heart, holding her here.

It hurt.

It hurt, to be cared for so.

The Elezen girl was standing behind Zoissette, her head at her shoulder, and she had grown older. So much older. Her and the Miqo'te girl both, both recognizable, young girls grown into women full.

The Elezen looked at Zoissette, then down at Y'shtola.

"How hard it must be for her. To have given her heart to someone who cannot open theirs to accept it."

"We have our duty," said the Miqo'te. "And she has hers. If we love her, it is for that and that alone. Our mission unto the star."

Y'shtola fought herself to standing, and Zoissette faded away, and she was alone.

She walked, for a bit. In a city dominated by crystal spire. In lands of trees and waters. In a land of brilliant bright light, she strode.

"We shall perform our duty and hold the line," said the Miqo'te, and the Elezen was not there to answer.

There was a light off in the distance, bright, blindingly bright, and Y'shtola walked towards it. The light dimmed as she grew closer to it, until she walked into the wooden ruins of an old fort, and saw the source of the light.

It was Zoissette, facing away from her, and Y'shtola ran to her, hand outstretched, reaching for her. As she got closer to her, she could see more and more, and she slowed, horrified at what she saw.

The Miqo'te girl was there, holding a fine alabaster blade, stabbed straight through the middle of Zoissette's heart. And from where the blade had hit, was a white patch of shimmery light, and it was growing. And from that patch snaked out veins, turning gold as they spread, taking over.

Y'shtola could not shout, but she could move, and she ran up, and grasped the sword, and tried to pull it out. She leaned back, both hands on the hilt, her hands overlapping those of the Miqo'te girl who just turned her head and stared at her, not helping.

She wanted to yell. She wanted that sword out of Zoissette more.

"How many times have you thrown yourself into the abyss, and you expect her to do any less?" said the Miqo'te.

Y'shtola's ears went back, and she pulled harder.

"She would die for you," said the Elezen girl. "She will die for everyone," she said, her voice infinitely sad. "She will die, never telling you she loves you."

"If it was so important to her, then she should have said something," said the Miqo'te girl. "If it is true, then her silence marks her cowardice, and that is no problem of ours."

"If she is a coward," said the Elezen, "then what are we?"

Zoissette, looking into Y'shtola's eyes, reached forward, and grabbed her wrists, and slowly, painfully, forcefully, pulled her hands off the hilt of the alabaster sword.

And the Miqo'te held on, her hands turning white, the infectious Light spreading up her arms, across her chest, down to her feet, turning her veins into beautiful gold, her skin into whitest marble, her eyes to liquid pearlescent brightness.

On Zoissette, the same effect spread, and Y'shtola took a step back, horrified, no longer able to force herself to step forward, seemingly frozen in place, unable to pull that sword out of Zoissette.

Unable to avert this fate.

Her heart crawled up her throat, and she was crying, and her breathing was labored, her face full of mucous and tears.

"It's alright," said the Elezen, bowing her head. "This is our duty, is it not? This is how it was always going to end, was it not? The needs of the star are so many. And they must needs outweigh the needs of the few."

"Or the one," said the Miqo'te with alabaster voice, letting go of the sword hilt at last, and allowing Zoissette to sink to the floor, where she came at last to rest.

A puppet whose torso was suspended in air, propped up by one arm and a sword string through her chest.

Zoissette looked up at Y'shtola, and smiled, and it was one of her rare, genuine smiles. The soft, little smile, a rare precious thing, whose light always shone, even through aetheric hue.

She was dying. Her wounds were seeping milky fluid. Her veins were turning gold. Her eyes were filling with white liquid. Her scars, marble. Her skin, porcelain.

"I will die for us all," said Zoissette.

It was too much, and Y'shtola felt a scream travel up through her, claw its way up into her throat, refusing to be silent any longer, a voice that started quiet and scratch as it forced its way out into a yell.

"you wILL-"

"LIVE!" she yelled into the black.

She gasped, feeling as though terrified, out of sorts, disoriented. As though she had been fighting for her very life. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her fingers gripped so tightly that they hurt. She poured nearly her entire self out, and her aethersight ignited, returning light unto her world.

She was in the pendants, sitting at a desk. And in front of her, a simple pair of glasses, recently repaired, the enchantments within them restored.

Y'shtola slowly released her grip on the desk, slowed her breathing, got control of herself. It would not do for her to be so out of sorts.

No.

She was still breathing hard. Her eyes darted back and forth.

No.

She had spent the past several days trying to find any way to avert this fate, anyway to save Zoissette from the Lightwarden's light, anything that would alleviate her symptoms, anyway to save her, any at all. She had pored through the books in the libraries of the Crystal Tower. She had practically interrogated the women of Fanow, had near exhausted herself exploring the ruins of Ronka, for any hint of what might be done.

And in all that, she had never done the one thing she should have been doing this entire time.

She picked the glasses up, and tucked them away carefully.

She would go find Zoissette Vauban, and at last, stand by her side.

#ffxivwrite2024 #final fantasy xiv #y'shtola rhul #zoissette vauban #glasses #202409-08 #biot writes

8 notes · View notes

vvinter-queen · 3 months

Text

Here Comes The Avalanche ❅ Icebreaker

"Ralph is an old friend of mine from before I even came to Swynlake." "Yeah, we go way back," Ralph said smugly after she introduced them. To be fair, it was way back. The fact that they hadn't seen each other in a decade didn't need to be mentioned.

Before Swynlake, there was a hunting lodge on a mountain. And there was a storm.

@ralph-wreckin-reilly

Takes place in 2014

Elsa:

Elsa had been on the mountain for nearly two years now, and she’d developed a routine. Some days, it was all that kept her sane.

She would wake up and check the lodge to make sure the storm hadn’t done any damage to the weaker parts of the building in the night before making herself breakfast. Then, she would dress herself for the day and start on her chores. Sometimes it was checking the traps she’d set. Sometimes it was doing more repairs on the lodge. Sometimes it was scavenging.

All of it done in crushing, echoing silence.

Sometimes she’d turn on the satellite radio Mattias had brought her, but ever since he’d stopped visiting, looking at it made her too sad.

She’d also started running low on supplies since he stopped visiting, bringing things she couldn’t scavenge for herself. Elsa was resourceful, but she was running low on food and basic necessities, and there would be no one coming to rescue her if she ran out. It had taken her a few days, but she’d finally worked up the nerve to put in an order for supplies from the nearby town. Thank the Spirits she’d had all of her money moved to a private account back in university so she still had access to it all.

Elsa left detailed instructions on where they should leave the packages, along with a hefty tip, and waited an hour or two after the delivery had been confirmed before heading down the mountain on her sled. The road wasn’t far from the lodge, about 10 minutes downhill, but Elsa already wasn’t looking forward to the trip back up with her sled loaded up with supplies.

When she got to the road, however, it wasn’t the packages she noticed first. Her heel dug into the snow as she brought the sled to a halt, looking nervously down the mountain. The road was covered, with two dark ribbons of asphalt peeking through the powdery snow from the truck, and on the other side was… something. Large and bright in contrast to the white and black. Elsa’s eyes narrowed.

Was that… a backpack?

Her heart rate picked up and the wind howled around them in kind as she maneuvered her sled the rest of the way to her pallet of boxes. She left the sled there, checking both ways before making her way carefully across the road. Even knowing something was there, she could barely see it from the road. Until she was on the other side and saw the backpack. And a hand.

“Å, herregud,” Elsa gasped, voice cracking from disuse as she ran the rest of the way. She barely had time to think before she was pushing the snow away with a wave of her hands, revealing more of the man buried in the snow. And it was a man, Elsa realized, heart in her throat. She fell to her knees at his side, hands fluttering nervously over him before realizing she probably couldn’t make things worse and pressed her fingers to his neck gently, searching for any sign of life.

… There. A flutter under her fingertips, and she let out a sound almost like a sob and a laugh. Elsa quickly pulled her hand away and gently shook his shoulder. “Herre?” she said, voice almost too cracked to hear. She tried again, a little louder. “Herre, kan du høre meg?”

Ralph:

This wasn't going how Ralph had anticipated.

That is to say, he didn't know how he was supposed to anticipate the journey of finding the giants. So far, he'd been following rumors and speculation, which brought him to the nation of Arendelle. With little to go on but words alone, he was forced to ask around until a local fisherman offered information in exchange for labor. It had been a hard few days slipping around in marine muck, but what other choice did he have?

Finally, he was given a location, somewhere up in the snowy mountains. It made sense to Ralph--a community of persecuted Magicks settling in a location far away and difficult to traverse. For humans, anyway. As a half-giant, he knew he would be fine.

He was not fine.

Hiking wasn't an issue. Hell, even the cold wasn't that bad. But considering he had no idea where he was going, it didn't take long for him to get turned around and for his map to become completely useless. The days dragged on and he burned through his supplies faster than the fires he'd only barely managed to construct. After a while, he thought it was probably best to give up--as long as he went in a "down" direction, he'd get out eventually, right?

Wrong. No matter which direction he went, even at a declining slope, he always managed to find himself at the bottom of a valley that would just turn up again. There was nothing resembling a path buried beneath all the snow and memorized landmarks kept turning up again and again.

He didn't know how many days it had been. He'd lost count. Malnutrition and the lingering frost crept upon him, sapping him of his strength and energy before he could realize what was happening. He didn't bother to make camp--he just needed to lay down. Just a small rest, then he'd get up to try again.

How much time had passed? He wasn't sure. All he knew that it was cold--too cold for him to move. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to think. Just to rest. "S'cold," he murmured through frozen, chapped lips. His eyelids couldn't even open.

He drifted off again.

Elsa:

His reply was almost too quiet to hear, but it was a reply, and Elsa clung to that. Whoever this man was, he was alive.

If she didn’t act quickly, he wouldn’t be for much longer.

As she continued to dig him out, blowing the snow away with waves of her hands, Elsa frantically thought over what she could do. She didn’t bring the satellite phone down with her, and she didn’t have the time to run back to the lodge and get it. Besides, the trucks that could make it up the mountain wouldn’t be fast enough.

She knew there was only one option, truly. But part of her was scared that if she tried to help, she’d only make it worse.

She didn’t want to bury this man.

When enough snow was dug away, Elsa ran back to the sled and pulled it over quickly. She undid the straps that were meant to hold her supplies in place and shook out the tarp that she had brought for the same purpose. It wasn’t a blanket, but it was something. She couldn’t get his arms up to get his backpack off, so with a silent apology, she cut through the straps with her hunting knife and set the bag out of the way.

The sled was brought up along the man’s side, and once Elsa had everything positioned correctly, she grabbed the man’s jacket and pulled. He was easily three times her size, tall and broad, but Elsa was strong from years of running through Solensby and ice skating. With a few hefts, she managed to roll him onto the sled on his back.

His clothes were drenched through from the snow, so Elsa pulled all the water she could out of the fabric before bundling him up tightly in the tarp. “It’s okay,” she said gently, this time in accented English, trying not to touch his bare skin. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get you warm.”

She wasn’t going to be able to pull him up the mountain to the lodge fast enough on her own. The walk with the supplies usually took an hour, and they did not have that kind of time. Grabbing his backpack, Elsa stuck it between her feet as she hopped on the back of the sled and took a deep breath. She hadn’t done this kind of magic in a few years, but she had to try. Elsa held her fingers to her lips and whistled.

Sled dogs made of ice leapt out of the snow, stumbling over themselves as they ran to position themselves in front of the sled. The ice was murky, their forms rough and undefined, but they would be more than enough to get them up the mountain. Elsa waved her hands and harnesses made of snow and ice wrapped around each of the eight dogs before attaching to the sled. The reins landed in her hands, and with a deep breath, she clicked her tongue like she’d seen at the sled races in Arendelle.

“Mush!” she ordered, and the dogs took off, racing up the mountain. Occasionally, the snow would be too fine and they would start to sink, but Elsa would wash ice over the ground and they’d be off once again. Thanks to the ice dogs, the hour-long trip took less than fifteen minutes, and soon Elsa was shoving the sled in through the front door with no care for the damage the sled was doing to the floors.

The lodge was cold, as Elsa usually didn’t bother with wasting generator fuel on heat she didn’t need, but she ran to crank the heat on and heard the generator roar to life. Next, she ran into the large living room with the gigantic stone fire place. She’d doused the small fire she’d used this morning to cook her breakfast, but there was plenty of wood inside that she quickly arranged to build the fire back up. It was messy, but it was the best she could do when her hands were trembling from fear. It took her several tries to even strike a match to light the kindling. The wood caught quickly, however, and Elsa felt a wave of warmth that made her sigh in relief.

“Okay, we’ve got heat, fire…” she muttered to herself, before looking at the couch. It was big, and Elsa had seen pictures of her father and his older cousins crowded together on a pull out. She threw off the cushions and sure enough, an old mattress was folded up underneath. It probably wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Elsa couldn’t get the man up the stairs to the master bedroom which had the second largest fireplace in the lodge. She pulled the bed out and ran back to the sled.

“It’s going to be okay,” she repeated to him, almost like a prayer. She didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t even think he could hear her. (She hadn’t spoken to another person in almost six months.) “We’re going to get you closer to the fire,” she said, coating the floor with ice so she could tug the man into the living room more easily.

It took her several minutes to get him up on the pull-out once the sled was in place, and she’d almost certainly pulled some of the muscles in her back and leg, but Elsa got him up on the bed without hurting him further and collapsed next to him to catch her breath. “What would Yelena do,” she wondered out loud between panting breaths, looking over at the man’s face. He was too pale, lips tinged blue, and her stomach twisted nervously.

“Get him out of his wet clothes,” she murmured, nodding to herself before scrambling back up. Elsa had tried to pull most of the water out of his clothes, but they were still damp, so she pulled off his outer layers until he was just in his boxers and a tank top. She didn’t dare strip him further, and instead ran off limping into the lodge to gather as many blankets and pillows as she could. When she returned, she piled them up around the man, making sure he was tucked in tightly and no skin was exposed. The living room was warming up now, and she shed her own jacket and sweater as she worked.

“There you go,” she said softly, making sure her sleeve was between her palm and his head as she lifted the man’s head carefully to place a pillow underneath. “All bundled up.” Elsa sat on the bed, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around them as she watched the man breathe. There was nothing else she could do but wait, now. Wait and pray she’d done enough.

Ralph:

He felt...good.

That was the first thing that floated through his brain as consciousness began to return to him. He was warm. Comfortable. Like groggily waking up after sleeping in on a snowy winter morning. It would be so easy to go back to sleep.

Back to sleep.

It came to him in a flash. He'd always had an excellent memory, so it didn't take long for everything to come back to him. The aimless wandering through the snow, his energy draining, before he finally decided to fall asleep in the snow. The one thing you're never supposed to do.

And it was like the chill came over him again, freezing him in place. From his brother, to camp counselors, to even the man who had given him the map--*everyone* told him how dangerous the cold was, and not to let it overtake you. But he had, and that could only mean...

Suddenly, the warmth was no longer a comfort, but a harbinger of doom. At least if the chill was still gnawing at him, there would be a chance to keep going.

But now it might already be too late.

Terror seized in his chest and for a moment his eyelids closed tighter, as if he could permanently keep himself in a state of suspension by never finding out his fate. If only he could just go back to sleep.

Finally, with little other choice, his eyes opened, just a crack, and then slowly more. Everything was hazy at first, a fog of browns of all shades mixed together in unrecognizable patterns. As his senses returned to him, he could hear a fire crackling and smell the burning cedar. After blinking a few times, his vision came into focus and he realized he was staring at the ceiling of a wooden building of some kind.

He lulled his head to take in more surroundings, but his eyes ended up snapping to the woman who came in his periphery. A young woman, with flowing blonde hair, almost white tumbling over her shoulders and looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful, an angel in the flesh.

Or, more likely, just an angel.

"O-oh God," he murmured, as he realized his fate was now sealed. "I--I died, didn't I?"

Elsa:

Elsa had almost started to drift off to sleep herself when she heard his breathing pattern change. She watched him carefully, scared that he might be taking a turn for the worst and she had wasted the opportunity to call for help, but then his eyes opened slowly and she held her breath.

His voice sounded rough and weak, but miles better than his quiet reply on the mountain, and Elsa sighed in relief.

“No, no,” she reassured, shifting so she was kneeling a little closer to him. She hesitated for a moment before reaching out and laying her hand over the blankets where she knew his hand was. “You’re not dead. Everything’s going to be okay,” she promised.

“My name’s Elsa. We’re in my family’s lodge. How do you feel?” she asked.

Ralph:

The woman moved closer to him and placed her hand gently over his, which wasn't really helping her "not actually dead" case. Wide, brown eyes flickered over hers frantically as his mind raced, trying to put the pieces together.

"I...I-I don't understand," he began. He tried to ask multiple different questions at once, each coming out as hardly a syllable, before he finally settled on, "How?"

In the end, he didn't answer her, and it was unclear if her words had even sunk in at all.

Elsa:

The more he talked, the more Elsa relaxed. He was staying awake, at least, so he'd probably recover just fine. She gave him a small smile.

“You collapsed near the road, I think,” she explained. “I went down to pick up supplies and saw you in the snow and was able to bring you back here to warm up.” Elsa didn't mention the judicious amount of ice magic involved in the rescue, even though she could feel it still writhing in her chest, begging to be let out. The storm had picked up outside while she had worried, and she was sure she was going to have to dig all her supplies out of the snow later when she felt confident enough in his recovery to leave the man alone.

Elsa wanted to ask what he was even doing on the mountain in the first place, but he seemed out of it still, so instead she pressed against his hand a little before moving to stand off the bed. “You're probably thirsty,” she murmured. “I'll be right back.”

Ralph:

Ralph's eyes continued to flicker over her as she spoke. For a moment he tried to imagine her out in the snow, dragging his hefty body all the way back to this lodge. There was no way, right? Maybe there was someone else in the cabin. Despite this, he didn't look away from her, hanging onto her every word.

Finally, he blinked as she squeezed his hand, which sent another ripple of warmth up him. "Y-yeah," he said automatically, before remembering himself. "Thanks."

As she disappeared, he now took the opportunity to look around, taking in his surroundings. It really was a cozy lodge--maybe he had been closer to the road than he realized. Surely this place couldn't be too far away from civilization.

Somehow, miraculously, he survived. A shaky sigh passed his lips as he let his head fall back on the pillow, allowing himself to sit in the relief.

Elsa:

Elsa’s smile grew a little at the thanks, and she gave him a little nod before scooting off the bed. She was careful not to jostle him too much, and had to awkwardly step over the sled still next to the couch before limping towards the kitchen. It was a little outdated, having last been updated a few years before her grandfather died and the lodge had barely been used for almost forty years, but it was all still working.

She didn’t want to shock his system too much, so Elsa got a glass of room temperature water and a straw before making her way back into the living room. She made sure to come around the other side of the couch this time so she didn’t have to limp over the sled again. “Here we go,” she said softly, sitting carefully near his shoulder. “Can you sit up a little? Don’t strain yourself if not.”

She was used to acting as a nurse for people who weren’t feeling well, thanks to Anna and her mother. Before the accident, whenever Anna was sick, Elsa would bring her baby sister into her room and stay with her day and night, nursing the little girl back to health while their parents worked. After the accident, Elsa wasn’t allowed near Anna anymore and she was carefully watched whenever she visited their mother. Agnarr still let her help with the nursing tasks he was less familiar with. He didn’t hire a nurse for Iduna, so it fell to the skeleton crew of house staff and Elsa.

Elsa hoped her mother was okay. That Anna was okay. (She would be twelve now, wouldn’t she?) That her father was…

“I don’t know how long you were in the snow, but you’re probably not going to feel a hundred percent again right away,” she said. “I’ve seen a few people recover from hypothermia before, and it’s not a short process.”

Ralph:

As he watched her go, he finally noticed the huge sled in the middle of the room. Honestly, he had no idea how that wasn't the first thing he looked at. But sure enough, there was a large piece of snow equipment just sitting on the floor. He figured that was how she got him in here, but even then you'd need an oxen to pull him, maybe even two--

Eventually his train of thought was thrown off when the woman returned with a glass of water, asking him to sit up. He did his best to oblige, his muscles aching and groaning in turn. It was only when his collarbones felt the chill of the air did he realize he was not wearing any clothes. "Woah!" He quickly grabbed the blanket and held it up over himself, as if he were the one with unmentionables to expose. But after a moment, he realized he wasn't shirtless, nor pantless either. But he was definitely in his underwear. "Oh my god, uh--" Redness started to creep up his neck into his cheeks, but he attempted to laugh it off, stilted and awkward. "Sorry about that. Just wasn't expecting...anyway."

He cleared his throat again and reached forward to grab the water, the other still holding the blanket up to his neck. After taking a sip, he attempted to pull himself together. "I mean, it probably wasn't hypothermia, right? I couldn't have been out there for that long and still be alive."

Elsa:

She had honestly forgotten about his clothes until he reacted - she was so relieved he was okay it had entirely slipped her mind. Now Elsa could feel her face growing hot with embarrassment, little white freckles like snowflakes dusted across her cheeks and nose against her flush. “Oh my goodness, I should have warned you,” she fretted, holding the water steady for him and keeping her hands outstretched in case he lost his grip. “Your clothes were soaked from the snow, a-and you’re not supposed to stay in wet clothes or the cold will linger and I didn’t have anything else hot and I’m-” probably colder than you were, she thought.

“I’ll get them in the dryer right away,” Elsa promised, mortified. “A-and I have your backpack. You probably have dry clothes in there.” She slipped out of the bed again, stumbling on her bad leg for a moment before limping to the sled. “I had to cut the straps, but I can fix it, I promise. O-or we might have a spare somewhere.” She was rambling, but what else could she do? She’d never been the best in awkward situations in the first place, and after two years of minimal human contact, her social skills were shot. Elsa stood by the pull out bed, clutching the man’s backpack to her chest like a shield, feeling dangerously close to tears as the wind howled outside.

“I don’t know how long you were out there, I just… I panicked,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Ralph:

Ralph winced a bit as she began to blush as well, clearly having made the situation worse by reacting in the first place. He did manage to keep a grip on the water, and pretended to be really into drinking it so that he wouldn't have to make eye contact. He swallowed hard before speaking, "N-no, it's okay. That's the right thing to do in this situation, I'm pretty sure." He was just lucky she hadn't taken off everything. Nobody needed to see that.

He perked up a bit when she revealed that she'd managed to grab his backpack. He hadn't been thinking about it in the few moments of consciousness he had, but it felt like a lifesaver to have its safety confirmed. After all, it was everything he owned.

"Thank you," he emphasized with a sigh of relief. As he watched her hobble away, he finally managed to catch a glimpse at her limp. His expression fell to a concerned frown as she returned, looking really sad and apologizing for some reason? "For what? You saved my life and my stuff. That's literally the best I could hope for."

Elsa:

“I… don’t know,” Elsa said quietly, setting his bag down on the bed before the encroaching frost could cover too much of it. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to tell what was from the outside and what was from her. “I think it’s all kind of hitting me now.”

Finding him, bringing him up the mountain to the lodge, getting him warm. She’d done it all in a semi-panicked haze, her magic screaming in her chest as she pulled on it for the first time in months. It was still there now, wild and sharp and stingingly cold, and she hoped the fire was warm enough to keep the temperature in the room from dropping further.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said softly, clutching her hands together and pressing them under her chin where she couldn’t frost anything else over. “Is… is there someone I could call? Maybe a family member who might be worried about you? I have a satellite phone and it usually works pretty well if the storm isn’t too bad.”

It absolutely was, she could feel it covering the mountain. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. Eventually the call would go out.

Ralph:

Ralph reached down to get the bag but then winced, his muscles still burning from everything that happened. As much as he wanted to rise to take care of himself (get dressed, mostly), his body would not allow it. So with a tiny groan, he placed the water on the coffee table and settled against the pillow.

Her question sent another chill up his spine, threatening to freeze him over like the storm raging outside. There was an initial part of him--the most cowardly part--that immediately wanted to say yes. Get him out of here. He had enough of this.

But then he thought about the look on his parents' faces. The scorn and disdain all packed together by a sickening 'we told you so'.

"No," he finally replied. "Trust me, no one's worried about me," he huffed, before realizing how bad that sounded. "What I mean is-- I've been out backpacking on my own for awhile. Even if we were to call someone I knew, it'd be in a totally different country." She could probably figure out as much from his accent.

"Your English is really good, by the way."

Elsa:

Something in her chest twinged a little at his admission and huff, something that had taken residence that day when she was fourteen and she watched the recognition drain from her mother’s eyes. It had grown thorns since she’d come out to the mountain, not sure who would miss her or worry about her. Her mother couldn’t, her father wouldn’t, and Anna… Anna was so young, Elsa sometimes wondered if she remembered her at all.

She would worry about him, Elsa decided, at least for now.

At his compliment, Elsa gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said as she moved his backpack a little closer up to him. “In that case, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to recover,” she offered. “I’ve got food and power and everything, and it’s probably safer to wait until the storm dies down a little to call for a ride back into town anyways.”

She’d need to make sure to get the supplies sooner rather than later if she was going to have a guest. Luckily, she was at no risk of hypothermia herself. The cold had never bothered her before, and it certainly wasn’t about to start.

She sat back on the edge of the bed again, mostly to get off her leg. “What’s your name?” Elsa asked.

Ralph:

This was honestly too good to be true. After spending God knows how long wandering out in the freezing cold, constantly getting turned around, eating dried out rationed scraps until there was nothing--and now he was warm and cozy with everything he could possibly need being taken care of by this heaven-sent woman.

He wondered for a moment if this wasn't all just the fever dream of a dying man going out on his last wish.

Well, even if it was, it was a really nice dream, and he'd enjoy it.

"Thanks...like, really. A lot. I'm pretty sure I'd be a goner if not for you," he said, letting his head sink back into the pillow, blanket pulled up again. For once, he allowed himself to relax.

He watched her sit down again, his eyes briefly flickering to her leg, but he decided not to ask about it yet, instead answering her question. "Ralph. Ralph Reilly," he said. "I was born in England, but I left a few years ago. Been traveling a lot..." He wondered if he should tell her about the giants--it's not like it was a secret, and she could have information--but it wasn't really a good first impression, was it? "Are you a local? You said your family lives here?"

Elsa:

Elsa was second guessing the invitation almost as soon as it had come out of her mouth. Not because of Ralph, he’d been nothing but kind and polite since he’d woken up. Elsa was the problem. When was the last time she’d lived with someone? For the year she’d attended university in Oslo, she’d had her own little house her father rented for her so she was kept safely away from campus, and the Sommers Manor in Arendelle was large enough that Elsa usually had the whole wing to herself. She wasn’t safe to be around, especially not for someone recovering from possibly hypothermia. Her moods would make the temperature in the room drop in an instant.

Then he thanked her for saving his life, and she felt… warm. She’d helped this person with her magic. Maybe even saved his life. And it was… nice to have someone else in the lodge. It didn’t feel so hollow and cold. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on everything, and Elsa felt the storm in her chest die down a bit as calm filled in all the cracks.

Elsa smiled at Ralph, her cheeks flushing again. “I’m just happy I got there in time,” she said. As he spoke more about where he was from, she pulled her leg up so she could wrap her arms around her thigh and rest her cheek on her knee.

“Sort of,” Elsa answered. “My family lives on the other side of the mountain down by the fjord. I… I live here on my own,” she admitted. “I have for a couple of years now.”

Ralph:

For a moment he closed his eyes and just took a deep breath, trying to wrap his head around the whole situation. When they fluttered open and saw the cute girl sitting cutely right next to him, all those thoughts turned to static. A reality wasn't sinking in because this felt like the farthest thing from reality.

Then, he realized he hadn't said anything, and he was staring. Clearing his throat and shaking his head, he quickly stammered, "A-ah yeah, definitely." He tried not to think about how that was a nonsensical response and was secretly grateful there was no one else here to watch him embarrass himself.

"So, are you like, a mountain ranger or something, then?" After all, that would probably explain the amazing feats she'd been able to pull off in rescuing his life.

Elsa:

Elsa honestly assumed Ralph was just still feeling a little out of it from the near-brush with death, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and try and check his temperature. It wouldn’t be any good with how cold her own skin was. Instead she glanced at the glass of water and wondered if it would be weird if she helped him take another sip.

Probably, yeah.

At his question, she pursed her lips together. “Not exactly,” she said quietly. “My uh, my mother’s family is very outdoorsy. I grew up camping with them and learning how to live off the land.” The world may have changed around them, but the Northuldra still lived and worked with nature. It was why they were blessed the way they were. “The lodge is technically my father’s, but he hasn’t been out here since he was a child.”

Agnarr had always been more of a homebody than his wife, choosing to spend his time in Yelena’s cabin or the community center on the rare occasions he visited Solensby with them.

Ralph:

As she talked, he closed his eyes so he could focus on her words and not, well...anything else. From the sounds of it, it seemed like she might be the best person to help him with his goals. But at the same time, he was nervous about bringing it up and scaring her off--or worse, her throwing him out. So he'd tread carefully, at least until he was sure he could survive back out in the cold.

"So is that what you're doing up here, basically? Living off the land?" He asked, opening one eye to peek at her. At the very least, he probably didn't have to worry about anyone else barging in and demanding to know why this strange, large man was in their house. That would be something of a nightmare.

Elsa:

Elsa gave him a sort of wry smile. Her cheeks were actually starting to hurt a little, and she realized that this was probably the most she had smiled… well, in a very long time.

“Essentially,” she said with a nod. “There’s a few things I can’t make myself that I can get delivered, which is why I was that far down the mountain in the first place.” And oh boy, would she be lodging a complaint with the delivery company for not noticing the freezing man buried in the snow by the road.

“Speaking of which,” she sighed, letting go of her leg so she could push herself back up. Elsa put most of her weight on her right leg. “I should probably go get them now that you’re up. Will you be okay if I leave you here alone?” she asked, concerned. “O-or do you want something to eat first? I’ve got some leftover soup I can heat up really quickly.”

She was loath to leave him alone after such a close call, but she really did not want to have to dig out those supplies from the snow any more than she already would.

Ralph:

Ralph nodded slowly, though took notes of her word. "Down the mountain"...had he really been that close to civilization? And he just laid down to die? Damn, maybe his parents had been right about him. Maybe this whole thing was a fool's errand.

But he'd never give them the satisfaction of that being true. So trek on, he would.

He blinked a bit as she stood before frowning. "No! No, I'm fine," he clarified, though still shifted a bit uncomfortably. She went all the way down for supplies but came back with him instead, leaving him out there. If those supplies were lost, it would be his fault, and he'd sentence them both to starving up here.

His parents were sounding more right by the second.

"You should go-- but wait!" He pushed himself up onto his elbow and winced at the pain, muscles aching. Still, he grit through it. "A-are you sure you should go out there by yourself? You've been limping..." His eyes fell down to her leg, which she noticeably wasn’t putting weight on at this point.

Elsa:

Ralph pushed himself up, wincing, and Elsa fluttered over him nervously. “No, take it easy-” she stammered, holding her hands out as if to push him gently back down, before he started talking. She stared at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling very on the back foot.

He was… worried about her?

The shards of ice that had taken permanent residence in her chest lost a bit of their bite, and she smiled at him warmly. “I'm okay,” she reassured him softly. “It's an old wound, I'm used to it. I'll be fine,” she promised.

“I won't be gone long. But you need to take it easy,” she admonished gently. Elsa carefully grabbed the top of the blanket that had been pulled up to his neck and tugged it back up before gently pushing him back down so he was laying down once again. Hopefully the blanket would protect him from the chill of her touch. “Seriously, all you need to worry about is recovering.”

She moved his water so it was a little closer to him and gave the fire in the grate a glance over to make sure it didn't need any new logs before standing. “I won't be long,” she promised again. She looked at the sled for a moment before deciding that dragging it out would be too much trouble, especially since she didn't want to risk using her magic around Ralph and making the temperature in the room drop again.

There was a smaller sled in the shed outside, along with the ice dogs she could feel lying in wait by the door. She didn't have the energy to dissolve them before, and found herself grateful for it now.

“Rest,” Elsa said, pointing at him as she gathered her sweater up off the sled where she'd tossed it when she had started warming up before. She pulled it back on over her T-shirt and quickly plaited her hair back as she made her way towards the door. Frost was already starting to form over her skin as she felt the storm outside calling to her, urging her back out. She usually ignored it, but if she was going to have a guest, she probably should try to let some of the screaming power out so she didn't put Ralph in more danger.

With a deep breath, Elsa stepped back out onto the mountain and the snow enveloped her like a hug welcoming her home.

Ralph:

Elsa attempted to reassure him, but he still didn't like it. While he was grateful she hadn't been wounded saving him, it still clearly bothered her, and the cold would probably just make it worse. He wanted to offer to help, knowing he could easily carry whatever supplies there were. Unfortunately, those abilities were not up to par in his current state, which could barely manage holding his own weight.

His heart leaped into his throat as she pulled the blanket back up and gently pushed him back down. Even at his lowest, he could likely resist her if he wanted. But as her fingers--light and surprisingly cold to the touch--applied pressure, he immediately fell back, like a child being put to bed.

All he could do was watch her as she moved around, setting up his things while getting herself ready. He still didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do. She pointed at him and he could feel himself sinking back in the bed, feeling more and more childlike with each scolding.

The door opened and he grimaced at the biting wind that swept through the cabin. The cold wasn't as sharp as the wind itself, which cut through him like butter. By the time he looked up again, she was already heading out. "Uhm-- be careful!" He called out, though he had no idea if she heard him as the door shut behind her.

#c: ralph reilly #t: here comes the avalache #;;icebreaker #//this is part one of who knows how many???#//but have some icebreaker backstory finally lol

2 notes · View notes

liminalpebble · 2 years

Text

The Refugee: Chapter 17

A/N: There is some violence, smut, noncon, and dubcon in this chapter. Please respect your personal limits and only read it if it's okay for you. 18+ readers only.

Masterlist

They were in his dark quarters now. Loki stormed around lighting the lamps with hasty bolts of magic, throwing his horned helmet off with a massive ringing clatter against the floor. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and then strode with a sudden focus towards her, like a bull suddenly seeing the matador's flag. She was terrified and backed against the wall, trying unsuccessfully to stay out of his war path.

He pushed himself hard against her, trapping her between the wall and his towering body. His lips pressed hard and suddenly against hers, the dagger of his tongue piercing harshly into her mouth, as his thigh sliced up between her legs. Every angle of him seemed suddenly sharper as it met her; his teeth, his fingernails, even his cheekbones seemed to slash into her like frigid razor blades as they grazed her. Even through her clothes, she could feel the rigid chill of his armor crushing against her body and the imposing tower of muscle behind it.

She froze, unable to respond or react, until his large hand closed around her throat and he hissed, “Kiss me back!". She thought about simply slapping him hard when he met her lips again, but instead she kissed him back gently, kindly, as she had before; the only way she ever had. It was a deliberate choice. She hoped to melt away his misdirected anger with a reminder of her kindness and patience. He pulled away a moment, looking dazed and disoriented, as if he had just awoken and was only now recognizing her. Only now did he noticed the rich darkness of her eyes gazing up lovingly at him in helpless confusion. For that split second his glower broke into a look of affection and regret, before the avalanche of his rage rolled on inexorably, crushing his self-control into oblivion.

He roughly unhooked and unbuttoned the high-necked top of her best uniform, tearing it a little at the seams in his haste to strip her. He threw it to the floor and reached under her bra to knead her soft breast roughly. She let out an abrupt yelp as he dug his cold nails into the tender flesh. He was panting now, grinding himself against her. He rumbled, deep and menacing, into her ear, “Good girl. Relax and just obey me.” She shuttered. She wondered if he was going to kill her (intentionally or not), and she remembered his words with heartrending clarity. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I will see that it's yours, and, I'll take such good care of you. She wanted safety and time. He said he would give her both...he said... Liar, of course he did, she thought to herself and felt foolish for even entertaining the idea of it being true.

She kept meeting his lips softly, kindly, despite how violently he was handling her, because in her guarded heart she loved him as much as she hated him, and she desperately hoped he would remember himself before he did something horrible. She had the urge to weep, but she couldn't yet. She felt like raging at him and defending herself but she couldn't yet...not until he pulled her hand under his clothes to his hard cock and held it there against his engorged skin.

She bit him. She didn't intend to. It was the impulse of a cornered animal. He pulled away from her face, lips red with his own blood and eyes wide in shock. He tightened his grip around her throat, ready to punish her for her insubordination. Now he truly looked like a monster, red in tooth and claw.

“I'm sorry...” she gasped, despite her narrowed windpipe.

“Apologies won't help, darling,” he growled out through gritted teeth.

“No, not for that...I'm sorry they hurt you so badly. Please, don't punish me for it.” He stopped abruptly breathing heavily, his frantic movements settling. Without warning, he punched the marble wall right next to her head causing a deafening rumble. She screamed, flinched, and felt the stone fracture behind her into a spiderweb of gashes as gray dust fogged over them. With that, the manic frenzy of ire seemed to leave him and he released her neck. She hesitantly reached down for her shirt and buttoned herself up as best she could with shaking hands. She forced her words out in a breathless rush. “May I please be excused, Your Highness.” He hated it most of all when she did this; when she became formal with him privately, and she knew it.

He hissed out, “Fine. But if you tell anyone about this, especially Magnus, you will rue the day you were born.” As he strode away from her, he heard her inhale a huge gulp of air, now that her breath was allowed.

“I already do, Sire,” she spat out between coughs, without meaning to say it aloud. She was surprised by her own honesty, admitting to the deep and terrible sadness and anxiety of being his captive for all this time, of being a refugee before that; a pain hidden behind all of her cleverness, usefulness, manners, self-control and the luxury Loki forced down her throat, like sugar to make the bitterness of her imprisonment go down easier.

As he met her lightless eyes, the sight of her disheveled crown of braids, now powdered with rock dust, and her pale fearful face knocked the air out of his lungs. Comprehension hit him like a lightening bolt. She looked crushed, betrayed, hopeless in a way she had never shown before, not even when he tortured her in chains. It was written in her face; she loved him, enough to kiss him gently even as he hurt her. At least that first day, she knew to anticipate his monstrosity and expected nothing else, but now she had begun to trust him despite herself and he had just reduced that trust to rubble. She loved him, she hated herself for it, and now, she felt enormous miserable shame for being so weak in front of anyone, especially him.

He longed to caress her gently now that his madness had passed but he didn't dare. Instead, he simply backed away, with both hands up in surrender, showing her he wouldn't touch her. “Lea, do you mean that? You can't mean that.”

She nodded, looking blankly devastated, letting go of whatever pride she took in her inscrutability. “Ever since I fled my homeland, my time on this planet has just been some cruel cosmic joke, one big flat circle I can't escape...people throwing me around like a toy, a tool, or just trash, again and again. If you're going to use me and hurt me, at least have the decency to end this farce of a life when you're done and bored, because I'm tired, Loki. I can't make the best of things anymore. I'm not smart or brave or powerful or important enough. Nothing really changes. No one really changes.” She said the last part with a crack in her voice and a hard squint as tears began to roll down her cheeks with a shuddering inhale and shallow exhale.

He hadn't seen her cry since he captured her, and she said the same thing now that she said then, demonstrating the flat circle of her lifetime. “What exactly do I have left to lose, Your Majesty? In fact, I have even less now than the first time I asked that. You have removed almost everything from my life, myself, that isn't controlled by you. There's barely anything left of me which is my own. Whoever I was, before being your prisoner, is nearly dead anyway. So if I am for the ax, I beg you, just swing it.”

He came closer and she backed away, even though the only place she had to go was back against the wall. “I'm...I'm so so sorry, sweet Lenora...darling. I was just so angry.” She wanted to flinch or flee from him but she no longer had the strength of will to bother resisting him at all. To her surprise, when his hands met her face and wiped her tears away it felt comforting, in spite of everything he'd done mere moments ago. She thought she must be losing her mind here, in the surreal warped keep of his own design; her hell. He touched her shoulder and her uniform turned into a soft nightgown, he took her hand and walked her over to sit on his comfortable couch. He touched his own lip to heal it and then transformed his own armor into nightclothes. He knelt in front of her and held her hands kissing them penitently as his own tears fell freely from his eyes.

“I am not responsible for your anger or your insecurities, and I am tired of being the victim of them. I'm not a rubbish bin for your difficult feelings. As I admitted on that first day. My strength is not inexhaustible.”

“I know,” he said miserably. “I know and I'm so sorry, Lenora. What do you need, darling? What can I do?”

“I want to go home, Loki!” She wailed it like a lost child, with tears streaming from her eyes. “I want to go home but I don't have one...can hardly remember having one. You burned it to the fucking ground and I'm so tired of running and hiding and trying to build new ones and always being afraid.”

Loki felt his shaky heart collapse entirely into shards. He came up to the couch and held her against his chest as she wept for a hundred different loses and tragedies in her life, which she had always kept to herself. She didn't resist him. She didn't want to feel alone right now, even if it meant accepting his terrible love. He stroked her back gently, and began undoing her crown of braids, unraveling it patiently, strand by strand so she could be more comfortable. She rested her cheek against his broad chest as she dampened it with her tears. They sat in silence like this for a long time. Loki thought to himself that he would sit here for the rest of his life if she needed him to keep holding her, even though each sniff and whimper from her pushed another needle deep into his heart, into his budding conscience. He thought she might have cried herself to sleep until she said quietly, “I hate this.”

He shifted. “ You mean me? If you want me to stop holding you I can...”

“No. Not every sentence uttered is about you, you conceited twat. I meant crying. I hate crying.”

“Why?”

“It's a weakness...like bleeding in water full of sharks. It just makes you more vulnerable, and then you're eaten alive.”

“You've seen me cry before. You've seen Magnus cry. Do you think we're weak?”

“No. You can both afford to emote. There's nothing higher than you in the food chain to come after you....especially you...the apex predator.”

He sighed. She was always so precisely, frustratingly, right. Relentlessly practical.

“It's safe for you to cry with me.”

“We both know that isn't true.”

“I want so much for it to be.”

“For now, you do. Later, you won't.”

He kissed the top of her head, and said in a low gentle voice, “Maybe we can both stop thinking about the past or the future for now, forget what a vain maniacal quwim I am, and just rest. Can we do that?”

She stared up at him with those devastatingly sad, red-ringed eyes, and pleaded. “Please...” she began but then wasn't sure how to say what she was asking. Please keep me safe? Please stop hurting me? Please give me my freedom? Please let me feel secure for a single moment of my eternally-damned life?

“What is it, sweet empress? Whatever you want, just ask.”

She just shook her head. She had no idea what to ask, or how to, but he knew what she was trying to say. Please, don't leave me alone. He kissed her very gently, held her more securely against him. Loki was sure to give her every opportunity to stop him, but she didn't. Lea returned his kiss as gently as she had before, but this time he matched her gentleness. He stroked her hair, and kissed her neck, tasting the salt of her tears where they had made little pathways down her throat. She winced, and he scolded himself for already forgetting the pain he inflicted.

“Oh I'm sorry darling...I'm so sorry,” he muttered feebly, in a brittle apologetic voice as he moved his lips to her cheeks, kissing her tears away from the contours of her face. “Will you allow me to heal you?” She nodded.

Loki was not in any way talented in healing. She would still have her wounds tomorrow and they would still hurt, but for now he could take the pain away, if only briefly. He kissed her neck again, this time bathing it with a green glow. “Better?” He asked. She nodded again. “Where else does it hurt?”

She hesitated for a moment, but then unbuttoned the dress to show where his nails had dug into the flesh of her left breast in small angry half moons, as if he was trying to tear her heart out. He looked so sorrowful, seeing his work, any trace of sadism gone from him (at least for now). He kissed each of the five red spots where his fingers had marked her, the soft glow easing her pain. He noticed, as he raised his head, that the peak of her breast had grown stiff and erect. He looked to her face and noticed her cheeks blushing, eyes averted, annoyed at what her own body communicated. He held her face so her eyes could meet his and said, “Will you allow me to help you feel better?” Again, she simply nodded. She wanted to lose herself and unravel. She simply couldn't fight anymore.

He knelt before her again, this time kissing the smooth skin of the other breast and enveloping the nipple in his soft cool lips, running his serpent's tongue over her skin. Her head lolled back to rest on the high back of the couch. She couldn't think of anything, only the relief of surrendering in every way, and the pleasure beginning to surge through her. “You're shivering. It must be a bit cold in here for you,” he said, taking a blanket and carefully wrapping it around her, giving her lips a sweet kiss, before kneeling lower between her legs. His long fingers slid up her thighs, then traced along where her panties were sitting tight, warm, and wet over her sex. He ran them gently up and down where her slit was veiled under the fabric.

Her back arched, her skin flushed, and the loose fabric of the nightgown and blanket swirled around her as she shifted and undulated. She seemed to him like a rare flower which only opens once a century, and he was here, blessed to witness it. He had never seen her so vulnerable, like a raw nerve, exposed and painfully sensitive. This was precious, and he knew he might never see her like this again once her barricades slide back into place.

He bared her lower half, carefully, kissing her thighs at a languid pace as he pulled the waistband down, and the garment off. He lapped at the naked skin of her mound, kissed and sucked her lips, carefully working his way inside her. As he did, Lea felt the drug of his worship take effect. As he devoured her, her half-lidded eyes met the vast marble wall directly in front of her, fractured in his wicked fury just as she was. It did something to her; something sinful which surprised her. To know that this mercurial, catastrophic fiend of a god was genuflecting between her legs, consuming her reverently like a sacrament, made her drip like honeycomb. It was an irresistible feeling of exultation...and power. It felt wrong and dangerous to enjoy worship like this, which somehow made it more delicious. Loki was a perfect cautionary tale of how corrosive and addictive it is to be deified, and yet the ecstasy of it was undeniable, unimaginable.

He paused a moment, reading the mixed emotions which crossed her face, "How do you feel, darling?"

She said, with a weak little huff of shame, "Thoroughly corrupted...broken" then with a long pleasurable sigh, "...incredible."

He barred his teeth in his carnivore's grin, "Ohhhh. Good girl. You love it don't you? The power. Say you love it." She hesitated with a guilty expression. He held her gaze and pinched her clit hard. "The truth, pet. Now."

"Yes...yes...I love it!" She yelped as he made her body jump with the sudden decadent sensation. He was the one on his knees and somehow the bastard was managing to win.

He flicked his deft tongue over her in one long swift stroke, like the crack of a whip. "Mmm. I can taste how it arouses you, little goddess. It's delectable," he crooned. He grabbed her around the waist and slid her carefully to the floor. Her eyes went wide with shock and her body shivered without the blanket, irritated by the cold rigid floor against her spine.

She let out an annoyed growl. "God, I hate you and your cruel games!" she said, but he could tell that was only half true.

"Oh but you crave me so badly," he said sliding his slender digits deep inside of her. "Feel how you open to me so beautifully. Give in to it, sweet empress. Let me show you the pleasure of such power. Be my goddess. Mine..."

She couldn't resist him; his velvet voice, his steel eyes, his strong hands, his control. He was stroking the thick length of his fully aroused, dripping cock on his knees above her. She said venomously, "If you force my hand on it again, I will break it in two! Force it into my mouth, and I swear I will bite it off!"

Loki was astounded, but not fearful or disappointed. In fact, he looked absolutely elated. "Oh kitten! I love seeing your claws. I've already felt your teeth, after all." He leaned himself on top of her, caging her with is long sinewy body. "And where shall I put it if it not in your scrumptious little mouth or hands? Do you want me here?" he said, stroking the length of his fingers inside her warm wet core, curling just right at her sweet spot. All she could do was nod. He kissed her with unexpected tenderness, and looked her directly in the eye, all cockiness and pretense gone for the moment. "Don't feel ashamed to take your pleasure, pet. You're so good...so lovely. You deserve every second of it. Let me take care of you," he said very sincerely, kissing her sweetly and deeply as he entered her. He was patient, going slowly, careful not to hurt her, and the delayed gratification only teased and aroused him more.

The sensation of the cold hard floor behind her, the warm attentive god inside her, and the residual adrenaline of mortal danger, gave her a mesmerizing vertigo of pleasure and pain. As he moved within her, he adjusted a broad hand under her head to cradle it against the harsh floor. Kissing her, he savored the salt of dried tears on her lips and cheeks, but it made him feel very differently than when he greedily, sadistically, lapped up her tears on that first day. In this moment, he wanted to erase every single sorrow with his eager lips. He wanted to never make her cry again, but he mourned, even in this rapturous moment, knowing that he would.

As he moved faster, she began to make gentle little purrs and moans of approaching ecstasy. This was what he wanted to coax from her now, only this. He couldn't take his eyes off of her radiant face as they reached their peak together. Neither of them had any words equal to the moment, so they simply stayed there heaving against each other's chests, reluctant to leave the warmth of the embrace and the waves of afterglow. Later as they slept curled together in his bed, she had the strangest dreams; her mind reinterpreting his terrible beautiful love in the theater of her sleep.

@peaches1958 @goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtigger @unlucky-number-13 @sweetsigyn (As always thank you for reading along!)

#loki fanfic

20 notes · View notes

spyder-m · 1 year

Text

Zerith - "Sanctuary", Ch. IV preview

A/N: For more previews/updates, check out my Ko-fi.

Sanctuary

Chapter IV - One Time Gig

Cloud's decision, as Zack had quietly hoped, was met with cause to celebrate.

Tifa was beaming radiantly as he gave her the word, springing to her feet with her hands clasped together. At Zack's side, Cloud rubbed the back of his neck, flushed, but smiling dopily. Despite his bashfulness, he was clearly pleased to have spurned such a response from her.

In fact, Tifa was overcome by such joy, Zack sensed she was about to move into Cloud’s embrace, once more. This time, however, she caught herself, instead extending a hand toward him; perhaps a gesture she hoped would appear more professional. Zack was tempted, briefly, to ‘accidentally’ knock Cloud off balance, closing the distance between them. He thought better of it, though, feeling it wasn’t the appropriate time.

There would be plenty of chances later to relish in teasing his younger friend.

To commemorate the good news, Tifa insisted that they stay for dinner.

Eager, Zack accepted the invitation before Cloud could get a word out, suspecting his friend wouldn't want to intrude. Any urge Cloud had to protest, however, all but disappeared once Tifa shuffled behind the bar, a spring in her step and a smile all the more blinding.

From their shared table, Biggs, Jessie and Wedge seemed equally delighted for the extra hands, growing all the more excited about proceeding with their next mission, knowing now that they would have the knowledge and strength afforded by two ex-Soldiers in their ranks.

Zack happily dug into a generous portion of stew, managing to stay well-engaged in the conversation even amidst heaped spoonfuls. Cloud, however, for his part, nursed his own meal in awkward silence, unsure of where to rest his gaze. Having been shy in his younger years, Zack wondered if all the attention and scrutiny he was receiving from the rest of the room was making him uncomfortable. The loud, gregarious voices of their new Avalanche companions must have been overwhelming, not to mention the way their leader was still eying him sceptically. Though Zack seemed to have won Barret over, it looked like he still had some reservations about Cloud.

It was likely only the presence of Zack and Tifa that was helping to calm the nerves bundling for Cloud.

Though happy to take part in the celebration, as the night dragged on, Zack suspected it was a convenient excuse for Tifa to keep them; Cloud; around, even if for just a moment longer.

That much was solidified later when, after they'd eaten their fill, she offered to walk them back to the station, despite knowing they could more than comfortably navigate Sector 7 alone. The gesture almost offended Zack, who couldn't recall Tifa showing him this much hospitality when he had turned up on his own.

Still, he couldn't be too mad. It was obvious that she wasn't quite ready to part with Cloud yet.

As they made their way through the Slums together, Zack would catch her, every so often, glancing discreetly in the blond's direction. Though, her cheeks burnt and her eyes dipped whenever she felt Zack's gaze weighing on her.

Cloud, all the while, didn’t seem to have noticed.

Being in Tifa's company, made for a stark difference in how they were received by the Midgar locals. People were much friendlier, drawn toward Tifa; who, clearly, was an integral part of the community. Many passersby greeted her with a smile. Some called her by name, while others offered more... colourful greetings. Zack swore he could make out Cloud’s teeth grinding together with each one.

Still, not wanting them to feel ignored, Tifa did her best to muster up a conversation as they made their way along the Sector’s outskirts. Cloud, however, was far from talkative at the best of times, let alone when tongue-tied by nerves.

Tifa, however, appeared conscious of this and was careful in her approach; offering occasional, gentle attempts to coax him out of his shell. Unsurprising, given how long they had known each other, Zack guessed.

“So… Where have you two been staying all this time?”

“The Church in Sector 5,” Zack replied, teasingly, knowing it was Cloud she was hoping to receive an answer from. Though, if he was aggravating her, Tifa hid it well; a polite smile illuminating her features as she continued.

“Oh… Really?”

“Yep!” Zack exclaimed. “Got the whole attic to ourselves.”

"An attic?" Tifa echoed, her expression slipping and eyes flickering with concern. She looked to Cloud for confirmation, who ducked his head, suddenly ashamed.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Zack laughed with a nudge, a gesture he hoped would ease her worry. “But really, we’ve been wanting to spring for a room at the Inn for a while now. It’s just, most of our gil has gone towards… re-establishing ourselves.”

"I see." Tifa nodded, the answer working to placate her. "Well, if you ever need a place to stay, there’s an apartment building not far from here that has a free room. I know the landlady, so I could work something out if you’re interested.”

That piece of information caught Cloud's attention, as he stopped in place, turning toward Tifa.

"R- really?"

Tifa blinked, taken back initially by Cloud suddenly engaging her. Yet, she met him with equal enthusiasm.

“Yeah! Well... It might be a little cramped for the two of you... there is only one bed. But still, it’s a start.”

Cloud sighed, that momentary spark of hope he’d felt, snuffed out. Though the Church's attic was far from an ideal set-up, they were at least afforded their own space; a marked improvement from the conditions they’d struggled through, travelling cross-country on the road.

Judging by his reaction it was clear to Zack that Cloud had been hoping to accept Tifa's offer, wanting to be closer to his old friend. Yet, he could hardly justify moving what little they’d established of themselves and their new lives over to an entirely different sector when there wasn’t even enough room for the two of them.

He couldn't put their comfort behind his own selfish means. That wouldn't be fair.

Zack, however, felt differently.

Cloud was someone who, on the surface, appeared withdrawn and distant. Even, at times, snarky. Zack, however, knew better. He knew that, at his core, Cloud was someone steadfast and optimistic, always striving to see the best in others and fighting for what was right.

These past few weeks, though, Zack worried that that part of him was slipping away.

He could understand, given the recent, poor fortune their lives had seen. Being discarded by the company you’d worked tirelessly to serve was only bound to fuel one’s inner cynic.

Still, Zack didn’t want his friend to become so jaded that he lost touch with himself. Not when he’d seen so many others he cared for fall down similarly dark paths.

He wondered if perhaps rekindling his friendship with Tifa more could help him regain a semblance of his old self.

It seemed counterintuitive for Cloud to deprive himself of something that made him happy.

At least, in Zack’s mind, it was worth a try.

Smirking, he clapped Cloud across the back, enough to penetrate the funk covering him.

"You know what, Spiky, why don't you take her up on that offer? I'm sure I can manage on my own."

Cloud stumbled, enough for Tifa to reach out and help steady him. He held up his hands to reassure her, his cheeks dusted with a flush, before eventually regaining his composure.

"Zack, what are you talking about?"

To Zack’s surprise, from the way Cloud’s gaze lingered and his eyebrows knit together sharply, he did not seem open to the idea. In fact, he appeared to be giving every silent indication that he was upset.

Zack couldn’t understand. He thought Cloud would have appreciated the chance to be closer to Tifa. His earlier disappointment realising there wouldn’t be enough room for them both to stay clearly suggested as much. There must have been a lot they needed to catch up on still.

Though, having always harboured insecurities about being a burden and given, Shinra’s recent abandonment, Zack supposed he could understand how Cloud might have found the gesture abrupt, even hurtful. After all the time they’d spent together, he was casting him aside so easily.

It had been thoughtless of him.

Biting his lip, Zack glanced around. The station was still bustling with life, despite the late hour. It really wasn’t the right place to unpack all of this, but there weren’t really any other options. Glancing helplessly toward the steel sky, Zack sighed.

"Sorry, Tifa. Do you think we could... have a moment?"

#fanfiction #final fantasy vii #ffvii #zerith #zeris #zack fair #zack fair lives #au

2 notes · View notes

perverse-idyll · 2 years

Note

Congrats on your fest fic!!! can't wait to read it! This is probably Snapecase right?

Also WIP ask game. Year of the Thestral! Because I really love that fic <3

Hello, Squash! How lovely to see you! I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. Exhaustion is the name of the game this time of year.

And yes, my beloved Snapecase! Pretty sure I astonished the mod, who has suffered through years of my neurotic stalling and revision crises. I hope this time I redeemed myself.

Ah, Year of the Thestral, a fic that vies with The Threefold Death for the title of “Least Likely to Be Read.” It’s very much about grieving, and the choice to function with a clear conscience and heart, possibly at the expense of the truth. I'm very fond of this fic, because the more I dug into how Minerva might feel once the great deception came to light, the more complex the aftermath turned out to be. And I like to make characters wrestle with their emotional angels and moral devils without necessarily besting them in the end. Because sometimes there is no right answer.

Excerpt:

The damage Hogwarts had sustained – in its structure, its magic, its purpose, its lip service to unity – permeated every instant she passed through and every gesture she made. No matter what she was doing at any given moment, she was conscious of the internal collapse of deeply bedded parts of herself that mirrored the castle's destruction. An unshakeable sense plagued her that she couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air into her lungs, even though she knew it was nonsense and that she was swallowing down oxygen with every inhale, gasping it in, and using it to direct rescue efforts, give reassurance, and bark precautions. As long as she was breathing, she could maintain the continuity, the promise she represented, that the old, revered Hogwarts traditions lived on. Someone must live to tell the tale. The words wandered in and out of the newly ruptured spaces inside her, crossing paths with bits and pieces of what Harry had shouted at Voldemort. Snape was Dumbledore's he loved her for nearly all of his life The ghosts of speech drifted over each other, intertwined with remembered flashes of children screaming in terror, distorted voices hissing spells, the sizzle of magic in the air, the horrifying rumble of explosions, stone walls crashing down in an avalanche of death. The primal growl when the very foundations of the castle shook as if presaging the end of the world. The chaotic memories echoed against her heartbeat, making her stumble and sometimes stop in her tracks as she made another tour of the room. If I could choose, I would have it be you.

Fuck you, Severus. How dare you. How dare you.

#wip tag game #asked and answered

5 notes · View notes

crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 years

Text

BTHB 2023 - Fill 3 - Passing Out From Pain

For anyone who wanted Mariano to get a break, here you go! Back to Will for a little bit c:

TWs: Gore, impalement, crushing injuries, building collapse, death

"Bennett?" Sophronia called, coughing. Dust choked out the meager light that dotted the roof of their space, and she had to tug her shirt collar up over her nose and mouth to even think about breathing. "Bennett, can you hear me?"

William's soul was nearby. That much was certain. Even if it was too dark to see, at least she could feel him.

Gingerly starting to crawl, Sophronia winced as sharp debris dug into her knees. It didn't matter, really, her clothes were bloody enough from the initial collapse of the floor and walls. Something had gouged her side when she fell, deep enough that even breathing felt like overdoing it.

William still hadn't answered.

Getting deeper into their makeshift cavern, she finally heard something. A hitched breath with a squeaky, breaking sob. It came from where William's soul was.

She froze for a moment, trying to discern if it was really from him. When was the last time she'd heard him sound like that? Could she remember? Was it when he was a freshly dead, shivering soul of a teenager? When he was escorted to her after escaping Daniel?

"Will?"

The noise abruptly stopped, traded for a shuddering gasp. "Sophie...?" She felt sticky fingers brush against her wrist, and instinctively she tapped into her magic.

Magenta light filled the area, and only thing that stopped her from audibly reacting was her years of experience in the field. "Bennett--I'm here." She said, unable to take her eyes off of William’s chest.

A dull metal rod disappeared into the dark fabric of his coat, dyed darker by blood. Twisted concrete bloomed at the top, rising up and away like a horrific flower. Trailing down his pinned body, it took Sophronia another second to realize that the metal seemed to be the only thing holding him in place.

"I'm--this, this sucks..." He managed to gasp out, a desperately suppressed laugh threatening to shake him. "Is anyone else...are the others okay?"

"Yves and Charlotte managed to get out before it all came down. They're helping the living, right now." Sophronia said, taking note of the busy souls above them. She could feel Charlotte helping people out of the wreckage, and Yves hovering in one spot--doing triage, most likely. "I need to get you out, alright?"

William struggled to take another breath, his face twisting when he did. She heard a dull scrape, metal against something hard, and felt her stomach turn. "It broke...it's through my sternum." He managed, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab at the rod. "It--god, Soph, it's...I don't think you're go-onna unpin me."

Sophronia swallowed hard. "I know. Let me--" Another rumble cut Sophronia off, and her magenta eyes snapped upwards. The concrete above them started to shift, dust starting to stream down.

Sophronia managed to throw herself over William as it all fell, stifling a harsh cry of her own as her side lit up with pain. Her chin pressed against his dust-caked hair as though she could shield him from more damage. His chest trembled against her own as the world crumbled around them.

A muffled scream erupted beneath her, and she felt William arch despite the metal through his chest. He was a line of tension, shaking from the force of it. He fell quiet, and then still.

When the avalanche of concrete stopped, Sophronia pushed herself back upright. Amid the choking dust and the slowly seeping blood from her side, she found her own head was starting to spin. "Bennett?"

Looking to her other side, Sophronia saw the reason he'd fainted.

The heavy concrete that had fallen from its own weight had landed on William's legs. She didn't dare touch--one look at the odd, jagged lumps under his pants fabric told her everything she needed to know. "Okay, that's alright Will." She said, taking a breath. "This makes it much easier, good job."

It was a miracle he wasn't still conscious, really. He would've clung to awareness as long as possible--to life as long as possible. It would've made what she needed to do more uncomfortable for him.

Instead, she ran her fingers through his messy, bloody hair, and wordlessly slipped her other hand into his chest. Her fingers met no resistance as she passed through his shirt, past skin and bone, until she found his soul and plucked it out. As his body dissolved into purple smoke, Sophronia could finally get them both to help.

#whump #bthb #bad things happen bingo #building collapse #gore #blood #impalement #crushing injuries #a gentle death #started as a quiet friday night #I imply vaguely that it's an #earthquake #but it's so vague

4 notes · View notes

thehorrorsartandblog · 1 year

Text

Chapter 14:The morning after

The sun began rising in the east. Like it did everyday. But today wasn’t like other days on the trail. The night slowly replayed and rewinded in Deseret’s mind. At this point she just wanted a distraction. She wanted to forget. Forget the pain in her arms. The places the man even barely touched on her the night before stung like molten tar. She just wanted the torment to end.

Yet, she wasn’t able to. No matter what she did she couldn’t forget the night before. It’s not that she didn't feel bad, it was just too traumatizing for a person still physically under the age of 5.

They hauled the bodies of the dead in the wagons. The Latter Day Saints wanted to bury them in a place where they wouldn’t be dug up immediately so the dead stayed with them. But yet it wasn’t what was bothersome to the group.

Deseret kept thinking about why a person would do this. How a person could hurt innocent people who meant no harm. They had never met nor hated them in any way till those people hurt them. But in the back of her mind she knew that it didn’t matter. She heard heavy footsteps right behind her and panicked. She turned her head to see one of the saints.

“Oh sorry didn’t mean to spook you.” The guy said through his accent. Deseret knew the accent as a good amount of her people had it but never understood why some of them spoke differently.

“It’s ok. Yesterday just was.” She trailed off.

“I understand. It must be a lot for a young child like you.” The man was walking alongside her now keeping an eye on her. After processing what he had just said she finally broke down. She began sobbing. Till now she felt mainly numb but now that sadness she held had finally made its way to the surface.

“Oh dear. There is no need to cry like that.” He looked down at her. Tears streamed down her face making her feel like she was burning. The pain hitting her like an avalanche.

“Des, what's wrong?” Brigham came up from behind her, spooking her even more. Noticing his mistake he backed off and approached her from the side to make her feel safe.

Her tears couldn’t stop forming and Brigham attempted to hug her. She pulled sharply away from the oncoming hug. She didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be in nauvoo. She didn’t want anything but space.

Brigham noticed her pain and backed off choosing to avoid touching Des. He knew his sister had been a lot but as for where his sister came from he didn’t know. Apparently Mr.Young, his father, found her in the woods, abandoned by whatever family she had. Yet he felt that something was off at times. Who would have abandoned a little girl like her?

Listening to her cries broke his heart, no his soul. He wished he could have protected her better from whatever she had faced the night before. But yet she was the one who woke up first and therefore the one attacked first.

The hummingbird noticed and flew into the girls light blue and white hair. Eventually Deseret walked off and went to the wagon that her family had. She carefully timed herself to jump inside the moving wagon. She flapped her wings a bit after landing harshly. After crawling over she wrapped herself in her quilt. She slowly studied the patches. Maybe hoping to lose herself in a good memory.

Brigham had found her after not that long of a search. He slowly approached her from the side and sat on the opposite side of the wagon.

“I just want to be left alone.” She hissed. This caught his attention and made him jump slightly. But yet he sat as still as he could.

“I’m aware but I would like you to hear something.” He pushed.

“What would I need to know at this time?” She yelled. After her words rang out he pulled open the book he had brought with him. She didn’t even notice he had brought it with him.

He began reading, allowing Deseret to hear the words on the pages. She sat silently wondering what a story had to do with anything but as the story got further along the more she got enthralled with the story. Nothing but that was on her mind suddenly. Everything was forgotten. The day slowly shifted to evening. The truth is that the man who Deseret was talking with earlier had given Brigham the book. He knew that a story could help one forget.

After the book finished Deseret sat there, wide eyed, staring at the dusty brown book cover. Her curiosity had fully peaked. Why did it end the way it did? Brigham also was fully captivated with the ending of the book as well. The two sat there silent processing the story in their mind. Slowly everything came back to them and they could remember their names again.

The two came back to their senses of where they were and as they noticed it the wagons halted for the night. Hopping out of the wagon the two kids and hummingbird slowly went to return the book to the man.

“Thank you for letting us borrow this.” Brigham chirped happily. He was just happy that his sister was feeling better.

“Oh it’s no issue. If you ever want to read another book feel free to come ask me for another.” The Englishman spoke softly.

The two kids went off to eat dinner. Just for a blissful little moment. A spark of innocence. After dinner and family prayer the wagon trail fell silent as all but one fell asleep. Deseret sat awake looking at the stars in the sky. She never really noticed how pretty they were but now with the books ending in mind she couldn’t help but stare and try to find the starry constellations that were mentioned in the story. Slowly her eyes felt heavy and she closed them then fell asleep. But nothing could stay peaceful for long. Could it?

-I’m so sorry that I didn’t get this up when I said it would-

#A long trail ahead #horror’s stories #Statehumans utah

4 notes · View notes

janetbrown711 · 4 years

Note

"Don't be scared, I'm right here," Yakko?

The Warner siblings were doing okay.

Sure, there were a few bumps along the path here and there, Wakko almost passing out being one of them, but ever since Yakko got some food in him, he was starting to look and feel better. Not his usual self, of course (you can’t just shake off starvation like that), but better. Then again, almost anything is a better state than dying.

But still.

Nothing major had happened. They were sailing smoothly up and down the mountains, the wind and snow on their side. They were even having a little bit of fun again. It was... nice.

“So the wishing star can really give you anything you want?” Dot asked. Wakko nodded.

“That’s what Pip said,” He grinned, his tongue sticking out.

“So we’re really gonna get mom and dad back? Wow,” Dot smiled a little. “I’m done with grandma.”

“I think you speak for all of us when you say that,” Yakko laughed.

“What do wanna do when they come back?” Dot asked her brothers.

“I think I’d give them a big hug and then we’d go back to the garden and have a big fancy picnic all day, just like the ones we used to have on mine and Dadoo’s birthday,” Wakko grinned.

“What about you Yakko?” Dot turned her head to him.

“That’s a good one...” Yakko thought for a moment. Truthfully, he had no idea. He’d been preoccupied with worries about his sibs ever since they died he hardly had the time to envision what he’d do if they came back or never died. He had to give it some thought.

“I’d hug them, obviously. Then, I’d tell them about all the good things they missed, the lessons we’ve given you, the birthdays, and other good things like that. Then, I’d just... spend time with them. We wouldn’t have to do anything- just to sit in a room and read with them in the room too would be enough for me...” Yakko thought aloud.

“Oooo, that sounds nice,” Dot smiled a little.

“What about you Dot?” Yakko asked. Dot sat and thought.

“I think I’d hug them, tell them how much I missed them, and then have mom brush my hair and sing lullabies, and Dad reads bedtime stories... maybe we’d even play dolls together,” Dot hugged herself a little, touching her hair lightly.

“It’s been so long... I barely remember what it felt like...” Dot frowned. Yakko felt a wave of sadness and empathy for her.

“It’s okay Dot- mom will be back brushing your hair and singing lullabies and Dad’ll be back with his stories before you know it,” Yakko reassured, and Dot’s face brightened.

“Yeah! They’ll be back before I know it,” She said happily.

“How much longer do you think, Yakko?” Wakko asked.

“Probably within the hour.”

That felt crazy to say.

“Within the hour.”

His parents were less than an hour away.

This was actually happening.

“Cool,” Wakko nodded.

“Yeah... cool,” Yakko chuckled, still reeling at the thought.

The siblings rode in silence for a moment, each processing just how close they were, getting more and more excited the more they thought about it.

This wasn’t some far-off fantasy- the star was right there, just beyond. All they had to do was reach it first, and since they hadn’t run into any other travelers it actually looked like they’d make it- it seemed luck was finally on their side for once.

“Hey Yakko- there’s someone behind us,” Wakko pulled on Yakko’s pant leg and pointed.

Of course there was...

Yakko sighed, and looked, before freezing.

It was the royal carriage.

“Fire!” A voice from within the carriage ordered.

“You two- get down,” Yakko ordered, as a cannon was heard, and it exploded no more than two feet to the left of them. Dot and Wakko were quick to obey.

“Of course her carriage has a cannon- of course it does,” Yakko growled as he steered them away, as he heard it fire again, this time landing two feet from their right.

“Yakko- are we gonna-?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I got you,” Yakko assured, looking back and saw Angelina sticking her head out the window.

She looked terrible. The wind caused her usually perfect up-do to lose quite a few hairs, which were now flapping in the wind. Rage had consumed her, and her usually refined makeup created dark smudgy circles under her eyes. Her fur shawl also slipped off of one shoulder, and overall she looked like she was losing it.

Huh.

Yakko did always wonder what would happen if they tried to run away.

Guess that was the answer.

Yakko then put his attention back onto the path ahead, and bit his lip when he realized it was about to get a little narrow, meaning he probably couldn’t weave should they aim directly for them... though he could try... Hopefully, the person firing was a better person than their grandmother, and wouldn’t aim for them, not on purpose...

“It’ll be okay,” Yakko said again, sucking in a breath of cold air as he weaved through a few trees before going onto the narrow path.

Thankfully, it appeared the person in charge of firing was either a poor shot or wasn’t aiming for them on purpose like he wanted, because no matter what, he always hit the mountainside. However, this wasn’t a good thing, because it caused the snow to shift and for rocks to fall onto the path, which Yakko feared would cause either an avalanche or rockslide- neither of which would be good.

“Is that grandma?” Wakko asked, peeping his head to look.

“I said to stay down,” Yakko ordered, and Wakko went back down.

The cannon fired again, this time sending a loud cracking sound through the mountain.

Yakko just had to jinx it, didn’t he?

He heard the guard behind on the carriage curse, and Yakko tried to pick up the speed of the sled before anything happened- they were almost down too- After that it was just an open field to the wishing star.

“Yakko- a-are you sure we’re gonna-”

“We’re gonna make it Dot, I promise,” Yakko really didn’t want to deal with any kind of negativity at the moment. He had to focus.

Just as he predicted, the guard had shot into the cliff, which was now causing massive amounts of snow and rock to start plummeting down the mountain, in a weird mix of “avalanche” and “rockslide”.

“If we weren’t wishing for our parents back, I’d wish we had better luck,” Yakko muttered, trying to avoid falling rocks as the path widened once more.

“Agreed,” Wakko said, holding onto Dot. That was good at least...

The impending doom as it became clearer that there was no way they were going to make it off the mountain without being knocked off their feet and losing the sled or worse was not.

“Brace yourselves you two,” Yakko said, not knowing what advice he should give. He had never survived an avalanche- what did he expect?

Eventually, Yakko held onto his siblings too closing his eyes and bracing himself when he felt the sled get turned over and the three of them were tossed into the air.

The three of them flew for what felt like too long, before hitting the snow with a sharp thud which forced them to let go of each other.

With all the strength Yakko had in him, he clawed and dug his way out of the snow, and was relieved that both of his sibs had at least gotten their hands to the top by the time he was all the way out. Quickly, Yakko got the rest of him out, and dug out his sibs, surprised to find they had already reached the plane.

“There it is... the Wishing Star,” he said as he helped Wakko stand.

“Wow...” Dot said in awe. Yakko looked back and saw that somehow their grandmother’s stupid carriage had survived.

“C’mon, we have no time to lose,” he said, taking his sibs hands and running for it.

He was not going to lose to her. Not here, not now, not ever.

He heard shouting from behind, likely Angelina losing her mind even more than she already had. He couldn’t care less- he was focused more on getting to the star than whatever She was saying. Dot however, kept turning her head.

“Don’t look back Dot,” He ordered. Dot didn’t listen.

“I don’t care anymore- get the smaller one!” He heard, and Yakko panicked picked up the pace. However, Dot froze in her tracks, letting go of Yakko’s hand, looking back.

“Wakko! Watch out!” She shouted, shoving him out of the way-

An ear-piercing gunshot rang through the plane, and Dot screamed in pain, before falling to the ground.

“Dot!” Yakko screeched to a halt and ran back to her, while Wakko remained frozen on the ground in shock.

The snow around her was already turning red.

“Oh god- oh god oh god oh god-” was the only thing Yakko could say as he knelt onto the snow and examined his sister.

“Y-y-yakko-” She said, shuddering in pain, which only made it worse. Yakko put her head on his knees and held her hand.

He could hear arguing from behind.

“It’s gonna be okay Dot- It’s gonna be okay,” he said, tears already filling his eyes and a tight lump formed in his throat.

“I-it hurts Yakko,” she said, fear in her eyes.

“I know Dot, b-but it’s gonna be okay,” Wakko managed to say, crawling over from where he was. Yakko looked up to try to see if he could see their grandmother, but he couldn’t. Yakko realized he didn’t care- he couldn’t care. Not right now.

Dot shuddered in pain. “I-i wanna go home,” She said.

“I know Dot, we’re gonna. We’re gonna get our wish and we’re gonna go home, okay? W-we’ll pick you up and carry you if we have to,” Yakko said shakily.

“I-i’m scared,” she practically whispered.

“Don’t be scared, I��m right here,” Yakko assured, giving her hand a squeeze. Dot cringed as her breathing got more unsteady. She turned her head away from her brothers.

“M-mom? Dad?” She asked weakly. Yakko sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“They aren’t here Dot- th-they-”

Wakko tugged on his arm. Yakko looked up.

His parents were there, running in the snow with all their might.

“Th-they... they can’t...” Yakko couldn’t say anything. The siblings were dumbstruck.

“Mommy! Daddy!!!” Dot was sobbing now too.

“Dottie!!!” Their parents cried out in unison, picking up their pace until they reached them.

“Y-you’re... y-you can’t...” Yakko couldn’t speak. Wakko practically lept into his mother’s arms sobbing, while William went and held Dot’s other hand.

“It’s okay, Dot. W-we’re here pumpkin,” William said, placing a soft hand on her cheek.

“Daddy, i-it really hurts,” she cried.

“I-i know pumpkin,” William said, as he slowly picked her up. Yakko couldn’t move a muscle, dumbstruck and numb at the scene that laid before him.

“It’s gonna be okay- alright? Everything is gonna be just fine,” he spoke so softly...

“I wanna go home. I wanna hear a story,” She said, gasping in pain.

“We’ll go home real soon, okay pumpkin? We’ll go home and we’ll read you a bedtime story and tuck you in, alright?” He asked. Dot nodded even though the action clearly pained her.

“I-i w-wanna go home,” she sobbed, closing her eyes intensely.

“I know sweetie,” William hugged her closer, rubbing his face against hers.

“Y-y-yakko,” Dot turned her head weakly.

“Y-yeah? I-I’m here, Dot,” Yakko wiped his eyes, being forced back into the moment. William slowly set her back down again and he held her hand once more.

“Yakko, you’ll go home too, right?” She sniffled and smiled weakly.

“O-of course. All of us- we’ll all be there, okay? We’re gonna get our wish and we’re gonna go home, okay?” Yakko asked, looking at his parents and Wakko.

“O-okay,” she smiled a little more. “We-we’re gonna go home, a-and be together- a big happy family,” she said.

“Y-yeah Dot. A big happy f-family,” Yakko stroked her face with his thumb, doing his best not to choke.

“Together...” Dot said, before another wave of pain washed over her.

“Yakko I don’t wanna die,” she looked at him. “I-i’m not ready to die.”

“Dot- no. Y-you can’t die-” Yakko pleaded with her.

“Yakko I wanna go home,” She cried, squeezing his hand with all the weak might within her.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dot. Y-you aren’t gonna die,” William said, but it was clear the light was already fading.

“I-i l-l-love y-you...”

Her eyes became glossed over, and she went limp.

No.

No, no, no.

William checked for a pulse.

No.

He checked for breathing.

This can’t be- she couldn’t be-

Eventually, he just picked her up and broke down.

Yakko couldn’t believe this. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

Dot...

Dot was dead.

.o0o.

Dot was dead.

Her baby girl was dead.

Lena hadn’t said a word- why hadn't she said anything?!

She should’ve said something- anything, but now-

Oh god.

She hugged Wakko tighter.

She tried looking down at Dot, but she couldn’t-

God, there was so much blood.

Instead, she looked away- out towards the mountains- where she saw-

No...

She wouldn’t-

She would.

The next emotion Lena felt was rage. It consumed her, mixing in with her grief and anguish. She sprang to life, picking up William’s sword and running toward the Wishing Star, fueled by her anger and hatred.

She ignored any pain felt in her legs, focusing only on stopping Her- she couldn’t reach the star.

“Stop. Right. There,” She said, cutting off her mother from the star, pointing the sword at her mother.

“Angelina,” The queen halted, even taking a step back. “Y-you’re supposed to be dead.”

“You’d know that, wouldn’t you?” Lena glared. “Your assassins failed. William and I survived.”

“Not without scars, I see,” Angelina looked her daughter up and down in disgust, regarding the massive scar on her shoulder. Lena glared.

“I don’t care about that. You took everything from me- you killed Dot,” Lena was crying.

“They were aiming for that abomination of a younger son,” Angelina rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that girl was foolish enough to jump in the way.”

“You do not get to speak of her or Wakko that way,” Lena stepped forward, the sword now inches away from the queen. She laughed.

“You don’t have the guts,” She smiled. “You’re soft and weak. Never once have you ever fought back.”

“Ever since I was born, you’ve hated me. You’ve exploited me, broken me, destroyed me. All of this I could’ve found within myself to forgive, but the moment you laid a hand on my children was the moment you signed your death certificate,” Lena stepped forward.

“And yet you’ve never retaliated,” Angelina was still holding onto her pride.

“You’ve taken everything from me,” Lena didn’t regard that comment. “I used to think there was hope- I was foolish, a child even. But now I know you’re nothing but a selfish monster. A monster who I will never let hurt me or my family ever again.”

“You foolish ingrate-”

“Goodbye, mother.” Lena said, before stepping back and stabbing the sword through her.

Her mother’s body hit the snow, and she was dead without another word.

Good Riddance.

Lena went back to her family.

She gave Yakko a hug.

“We can still fix this,” Lena said. Yakko sniffled, confused. Lena helped him up, Wakko too.

“William,” She said softly. Her husband looked at her, and she gestured toward the star. He nodded, picking up Dot, and standing.

Lena took in a deep breath, squeezing both of her boy’s hands before walking towards the Wishing Star. When they reached it, Wakko silently asked for her permission to touch it. Lena nodded, and Wakko reached forward, and the star shined brighter, a burst of light shooting through the sky.

Wakko closed his eyes and made his wish.

The star’s glow increase, as it expanded, sending a refreshingly warm breeze through the air until it disappeared completely, leaving only grass behind from where the star had melted the snow. Everyone held their breath.

“D-dad..? M-mom? What..?” Dot opened her eyes.

“Dot,” Lena smiled, tears of relief and joy now flowing.

Quickly, everyone wrapped Dot into a big, sobbing, relieving, and loving group hug.

Dot was alive, and everything was okay.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

#angelina 1 lives au #my fics #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #dot warner #wakko warner #angelina warner #william warner #sir william the good #queen angelina ii #queen angelina i #angst #tw blood #tw death #tw stabbing #tw gunshot #tw cannon fire(?)#im emotional---

146 notes · View notes

theluckywizard · 1 year

Text

A little illustration for the latest chapter of my long fic In the Shattering of Things.

Cullen and Rose are talking about her rescue and all the hot garbage she endured after Corypheus' dragon snatched her up while she recovers in the mountain pass. Lots to discuss such as:

Stab wound from Red Templar Horror

Dislocated shoulder from Corypheus

Head wound from getting chucked against trebuchet

Survived avalanche and dug herself out

Escaped Samson and his red templar scouts looking for her.

Survived near death from hypothermia in the pass thanks to a timely mystery rescuer

Picked up by Cullen and Cassandra and carried to safety at last

#Cullenmance #Cullen x Trevelyan #Cullen Rutherford #Cullen Fanart #Rose Trevelyan #In the Shattering of Things #The Dawn Will Come #cullen x inquisitor #commander cullen #Slow Burn #It's ok you can kiss already #luckywizardart

120 notes · View notes

one-rosy-sock · 3 years

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart | Chapter 2

{Link}

Fandom: Hitman A03

Rating: M

Ship: Agent 47/OFC

Co-Written with: QClueingForLooksQ

———

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

47’s brow twitched.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

47’s reflexes finally came to life as ice-cold powder began scrubbing against his face. Jerking awake, he made to move around only to find his entire world confined to where he was.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, came the noise again. 47 found he couldn’t tell if his fingers or toes were moving. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. Moving his limbs was next to impossible, and it would diminish energy he knew he couldn’t afford to lose.

So far, he could only come to one conclusion.

He was buried alive.

Not the way he personally wanted to go, but fitting he’d get a slow and agonizing death. The scratching could be someone shoveling more dirt or snow over him. Ah--snow? Wait. That’s right. He was caught in an avalanche. Then what was that noise?

The scratching grew closer yet. He could hear something pant heavily, pausing only to sniff with interest. Though numb with cold, frozen stiff, he could feel living weight shifting over him, scratching at the snow. He could hear a concerned distant voice calling for someone from afar.

Perhaps today was not his last. He got lucky.

Light finally shone through the chunks of snow, exposing him to a sharp wind. Something clawed at his face, making him wince. Opening his eyes, he saw a wet black nose fill his vision. Humid dog breath fogged over his face before a long tongue came to replace. “Hey,” he rasped, attempting to move his head away.

The dog, some kind of Japanese breed with a face like a red-panda, pulled its head back and barked before continuing to dig him out.

Snow crunched nearby. Someone was running closer, the owner he assumed. Panting, gasping, the person, a woman, exclaimed something in Japanese. Relief crashed over him like warm water.

A woman swathed in winter attire fell to her knees beside him, bringing herself into his limited line of vision. Confused gray eyes came to focus on his own, soon growing concerned as realization dawned on her. Pulling back a fur-lined hood, ruddy, pale face revealed, she exclaimed, ”なんてこっ. お客様...？サー、聞こえますか？心配しないでね私はあなたをそこから連れ出します. もう少し待ってください.” (*)

He wracked his brain to translate her words, but he was so tired and her voice was so fast he couldn’t keep up. Without waiting for a reply, the woman acted fast as she and the dog worked to dig him out of the snow. 47 could not recall the last time he was in such a compromising position. He was hypothermic and injured and utterly reliant on this woman’s mercy. Even as she relentlessly scraped armfuls of snow off his chest, panting from exertion, she could be an enemy sent to track him down and kill him. Or more likely, she could be a spy ordered to hold him captive and try to torture information out of him. If she did want him dead, she wouldn’t have bothered helping. Nonetheless, he didn’t like having no way to defend himself...

The woman asked him another question, voice lilting. He huffed some and just managed out a, “English.”

“American?” She asked breathlessly, hovering above him again. He supposed what nationality he was didn’t really matter so long as she spoke English, so he just nodded. Her pale skin was now beginning to grow pink, cheeks getting red along with her lips. She must live nearby, or have a car, to only just now be getting cold.

“My name is Celina,” she introduced in surprisingly fine English with an accent he couldn’t quite place. It was...mixed, it seemed. “I am going to get you out. Ok?”

“Thank you,” he grunted. A hundred needles jabbed all over his body.

“No need for thanks. You’re ‘urt- I would not be a very decent ‘uman being if I left you to rot,” she tutted.

There it was again. French? He pushed such assumptions aside as she hovered over him once again and dug her hands behind his shoulders. Pain shot up his right side. Grunting, he let her sit him up. Snow slid off his bare head, hitting his ears. It felt as if someone had just clipped them off.

“Okay. I am going to get you up now. Zeh quicker we get back zeh better. Zere is a fire and warm water, and food, bandages--”

He nodded mutely listening to her, situating his arms around her as she squatted beside him. Clumsily, and quite painfully, they fumbled around before they were finally upright. The woman was just a head shorter than him, but her puffy winter coat, reflective and pink, made her seem bigger than she likely was. She waddled from her heavy winter uniform, but held him tight and supported some of his weight.

The dog barked and ran ahead. It turned back to watch them a moment before bounding forward again. Its tightly curled tail wagged relentlessly.

“I am so glad Yoshi found you, mister. I would not ‘ave.”

“Mmph.”

“I was trying to close up zeh ‘ouse to save ‘eat, yes? Zis storm is awful. Zen I let Yoshi out to potty, but he ran off and found you. Avalanche?”

“Yes,” he grimaced as they shuffled slowly but surely forward, 47 trying his best to stay upright without leaning on her too much. Under her puffy coat, he could feel she was fairly thin. She shivered with him. He couldn’t tell whose teeth were chattering more.

In the distance, from what he could see through the growing winds and gray snowfall, was the outline of a large wooden house with a tall sloped roof. There was a wall surrounding it, and a gate standing wide open. Excellent. Shelter and heat. And a plethora of weapons at his disposal.

The girl, Celina he recalls, slumped under his arm but did her best to help him to the house. It felt like they had walked an eternity, though it had only been a few yards.

Once the doors slid open, both of them stumbled inside. The heat should have felt good, but all it did was spark pins and needles in his skin as if he himself was melting under the brunt of it. There was a fire going in a sunken pit in the middle of the room. It was nice. Cozy. The dog was warming itself by the fire. The furniture smelled sweet from the tatami mats, and the air was heady with the aroma of a home cooked meal bubbling over the fire. A teapot hung beside it. He heard the door slide shut behind him.

As much as he wanted to collapse, he had to stay on his feet. He didn’t know this woman. She could be from Providence for all he knew. Without Diana in his ear assuring him otherwise, it was best to stay vigilant.

Unwilling to keep his back to her, 47 turned away from the fire to face her.

There was something off about the woman. He watched her yank off her gloves and unzip her coat, then take off her beanie. Long hair fell past her shoulders. Boots came off next. Under her heavy winter attire, the young woman wore a brightly-colored flower-printed fleece shirt and thermal leggings. She wore orange wool socks on her feet, and he noticed her wiggle them most likely to get some blood circulating again.

When she looked up at him, it took him a second or two to realize what was wrong. Now that her face wasn’t hidden by shadow, he saw she was so very... white. Her hair was solid white. Eyebrows and lashes too. Her skin was void of color besides the pinch of pink in her cheeks.

For a moment, he felt more out of place than he had suffering the avalanche. She looked too pale, too white, that she might as well have been formed from the snow itself. An animated snow angel sent to drag him from the clutches of hell. His work was not done yet, he reminded himself. Did God have a purpose for him yet? Is that why this messenger had come to his aid?

It was foolish. This was far from any biblical angelic figure. If there were such things, they surely wouldn’t wear such gaudy socks and bright pink coats. 47 tossed the ridiculous notion into the back of his mind. He needs to rest. His mind was playing tricks on him. This was just a girl with a rare genetic disorder. A lack of melanin. Albinism.

Her brows knitted together as she went to a trunk in the corner of the room. “Please, do not stand any longer! Sit and get warm. Take off your coat and shoes.” Celina took out an armful of blankets and handed them over.

“...Thank you,” he responded lowly, keeping his eyes on her even as he did as she bid, settling on a pillow by the fire pit. She’d taken his things, leaving him in his black turtleneck and hiking pants, and one of the throw blankets wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Shivering still, he put his hands out to the flames. The food smelled good. He’d appreciate getting some energy in him.

Luck in his favor again, she all but read his mind and knelt beside him with mugs. She poured from the tea kettle and served him. He cupped it in both hands, savoring the warmth.

“Thank you,” he said again. Good a phrase as any. What else was he to say? Knowing he needed to warm his core, but only waiting to sip from it until she served herself, he drank deeply from the mug. It was a strong green tea.

Silence followed them. Neither making any attempt to hide their interest in the other, they openly studied each other over the rims of their mugs. Getting warm was more of a priority than small talk.

She did look at him. Tilted her head, stared at his mouth. His bald head. Several times she met his gaze and looked as if she’d speak, but bit it back each time. He made no attempt to prompt her, preferring the silence as he studied her as well. He studied the room. The dog. He wondered what was in the steaming pot over the irori. Wondered how an albino Caucasian came to live in the Hokkaido wilderness alone.

Celina did not hold eye contact with him for long, politely averting gaze. He once again thought about her accent. Her Japanese was flawless, yet her accent, even her features, were not oriental. Her eyes were somewhat slanted but large, irises pale gray and pink. Her facial structure was mostly Caucasian. Symmetrical yet abnormal.

She is the first to lower her mug and speak.

“What were you doing out zere?”

“Hiking,” he responded automatically. “Thank you for your help, miss.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “It was nothing. It was Yoshi who found you.”

The dog, Yoshi, lifted his head at the sound of his name. A quiet ruff left the dog.

“Thank you, Yoshi,” he deadpanned. Yoshi snorted and laid his head back on his paws.

“‘e is a good boy.”

“Yes. You are French?”

She did a double take on him, mouth parting at the abrupt question. He watched her cooly. “Wha--Oh, oui. I am ‘alf French, ‘alf Japanese. And ‘alf convinced you are crazy,” she grinned a bit. “‘Iking? In zis weather?”

“The blizzard did not cause the avalanche. It was my own carelessness.”

“Mm... Oh, excuse me—I never asked you your name...?”

“Tobias Rieper.”

“Ah,” she nodded, smiling some. “My name is Celina Hirano. Welcome to my ‘ome, Monsieur Rieper. What’s mine is yours!”

They shook hands. It made him think of Diana’s, her hand small and weak in comparison to his. Women’s hands tended to be, but Celina’s white hand clasped in his felt like he was shaking hands with a skeleton. He wondered how easily she would break if he squeezed hard enough. If she was an ally, best to be on her good side. If not, well, no one would find the body. Though someone surely is aware of her out here. Family, friends. Employer?

At this point, with the crackling fire, and the tea warming his insides, they had stopped shivering. Celina stood up, her own rumpled blanket sliding off her shoulders. The tatami mats and wooden planks creak gently under her weight. “Are you very ‘urt?”

47 hadn’t considered his own injuries since earlier, but after a moment of consideration he nodded. He’d been banged up pretty rough during the fall, but nothing felt broken. He had all fingers and toes. The side of his head throbbed, and most of the right side of his body. His shoulder was especially smarting.

He glanced up at his rescuer. Celina had proved to be harmless enough by this point. She was slender and thin wristed and, though physically graceful, she had handled the teapot a bit awkwardly. She wasn’t a fighter in the slightest. Still, if she tried to do anything funny, he’d already found various ways to...take care of her.

A trip over the stone frame of the irori would be bad. The metal hook holding the pot over the fire or small iron grill would be useful. The teapot itself would be a fatal enough blow. One of these pillows, held over her face. There were bound to be knives somewhere. The only issue was the dog, but that wasn’t a major roadblock if he had to defend himself.

She looked at him expectantly, completely unaware of the scenes playing in his mind. Rubbing his sore shoulder, he asked, “Can I use your phone?”

She frowned. “Uh... I am very sorry. Zere’s no phone reception out ‘ere. I ‘ave internet but zeh power is going in and out. You message on media?”

“No,” he sighed. Too risky to contact the ICA that way. In an emergency, he knew a secure number to call to connect him to his handler, but without any proper phone line he was shit out of luck. At least he was alive. “How far is town?”

“Almost two kilometers. I would be ‘appy to drive you, but zeh snow…”

47 sighed.

“I will be ‘onest with you, cherie. We will be stuck ‘ere a while.”

“I’ll handle whatever may come.”

“Would you like a ‘ot bath? May I see to your wounds?”

“Very well...” With a bit of effort due to his shoulder, he pulled his turtleneck off.

Celina gasped.

Said shoulder bore a large red welp of swollen tissue. Various black and blue marks littered his chest, back, and sides. Likely on his head too. Recovery was always quick with 47, but he wouldn’t be at his best for at least another day or two. To be cut off from his handler, wounded, was not his idea of a break. At least he was alive and safe.

“Oh my—“

He went still when he felt her fingers suddenly prob his neck, timid as if she was trying not to burst a bubble. “Nothing is broken,” he assured her, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Are you certain?” She tutted worriedly.

“Yes.”

“Alright…” she responded reluctantly and straightened. “Can I ‘elp you into the bath? Zeh nabe should be done soon.”

47 licked the back of his teeth as he thought. The tartness of the green tea made him feel a little more alert. He had no problem receiving help when it was needed, and letting a second party assist him in a bath would be ideal. Trying to wash himself while risking further unnecessary damage to his muscles could be avoided here. He looked her over, rubbing the back of his head. Miss Hirano was harmelss. Or she was a phenomenally good spy. Even bruised, he knew she’d have no easy time trying to drown him or do something without him noticing. He wasn’t comatose.

47 nodded, standing up with a grunt. “That would be helpful, Miss Hirano,” he responded calmly. “I’m in your hands.”

~~~

(*) “Oh gods. Sir...? Sir, can you hear me? Don't worry, alright? I'll get you out of there. Just hang on a bit longer.”

#cold hands warm heart #agent 47/ofc #agent 47 x ofc #OFC #Hitman fanfiction #Hitman WOA #Hitman #Agent 47 #ao3 #reader #albinism #albino character #french #japanese #injury #avalanches #qclueingforlooksq #onerosysock

44 notes · View notes

erzaguin · 3 years

Text

Huntmira Week 2021 Day 1: First Meeting

Emira

Ed is out on his big date, Amity is locked in her room freaking out about Luz, and I’m spending my first time on my own at the library. That's kinda depressing. I decided I wanted to go out but didn’t know where to go. Before I knew it I was at the front steps of the library. I guess this is what I get when the only places I really go to are home, school, and the library thanks to Amity.

Well maybe it won’t be so bad. I can take this time to walk around and explore a bit. Whenever Ed and I come here nobody ever pays that much attention to us. It’s kind of nice that everyone is in their own world so they don’t see anything beyond the book they are reading. I guess this is why Amitty likes this place so much. It’s free of the pressures of being a Blight. I never really gave it much thought but this is probably one of the few places where I feel I can be myself without any pressures.

I must have spaced out a bit there. I don’t recognize this part of the library. Not that I know the library like the back of my hand or anything but still. It looks older than the rest of the library and there’s nobody here. It’s also somehow darker than the rest of the library and also dustier. I guess not many people come to this section. It's actually kinda nice if you don't mind the dust. There's nobody around and the lighting is actually soothing. Maybe a bit too soothing. What's that noise is someone snoring?

I followed the noise to an opening with several empty tables with the exception of one. This table had several stacks of books that almost looked like a child's fort. It was also the source of the noise. As I got closer I saw that the source of the noise was a sleeping boy. He looks to be about my age. Yet the bags under his eyes and the scars on his face and arms almost make him look older. He must have a pretty hard life? I took a seat next to him, careful not to wake him and studied his features.

His ashy blond hair is actually well combed. I wonder how he got those scars. His clothes are of really good material so he must be from a wealthy family. I continued to watch him sleep while trying to figure out what his story was. Hmm, is that a mask? I must have dozed off because when I came to I was in the middle of a book avalanche.

Hunter

Oh no I fell asleep again he said startled at the realization that he had unintentionally taken a break. How do you want to prove your worth when you can’t even stay awake while doing research? *sigh* It’s not like it matters. I didn’t find anything useful today. The number of missions I've been on lately have started to wear me out. I can barely make out the words in these books with how tired my eyes are. My tiredness is just a sign that I need to do better. That's right, I have to be better for him.

That's why I started coming to the library to do research on wild magic in the first place. I want to help Emperor Belos. It's a slow process but I have learned a lot. I know that somewhere within one of these books I'll be able to find a way to help him. Although falling asleep during my research time won't do any good. At the very least I managed to get some sleep in so maybe now I’ll be able to focus … *chu*

Huh? What was thaAAAAHHH! Exclaimed Hunter as he jumped up after noticing the girl sitting next to him. His outburst caused the towers of books on the table to come tumbling down on the sleeping girl.

First Meeting

"Ouch that hurt. What are you doing? Why are you yelling?" Muttered Emira as she nursed her head which had been bombarded by books.

"What? Me?! You! Why are you here? What were you doing?!" Stammered Hunter as he tried to make sence of the situation.

"Isn’t it obvious? I was taking a nap before I was so rudely interrupted." Said Emira cooly as she dug herself out of the mountain of books.

"S..orry you surprised me. There's never other people in this section of the library." answered Hunter in a more composed tone as he offered his hand. "Plus people don’t normally take naps with strangers."

"I know but you looked so peaceful sleeping that I just had to join you" responded Emira as she took his hand.

"...Right?..."realization filled his face as he gazed up at the golden eyed emerald haired girl. "I know you, you're the eldest Blight daughter right?"

"That’s interesting because I don’t know you. Are you one of my secret admirers?" Teased Emira.

"What?!" Retorted Hunter in taken aback by her coment. "No,... everyone knows who the Blights are."

"That's a compelling argument..." said Emira as she got a bit closer to the boy meeting his gaze. "...but why are you still holding my hand then?" Jested Emira with a sly smile.

Hunter quickly pulled his hand away and turned so the girl wouldn't see his blushing face although his crimson ears gave him away. “I think you should go.” stuttered Hunter, still not wanting to make eye contact. Something about the way she looked at him made him very nervous.

“Oh don’t be like that, I was just teasing. Besides, it looks like you could use some company plus I could be of some help with whatever you're doing” she said as she started rummaging through the books that were still on the table.

Hunter turned to look at her wearily. “I don't need any company, I'm fine on my own. Besides, why would a Blight want to help me?"

Without looking up from what she was doing she simply stated “ First of all I have a name, it's Emira and secondly I have nothing better to do and I’m curious about you?”

"What do you mean?" Responded hunter with his own curiosity starting to peak.

"For starters your appearance, the clothes you are wearing make it obvious that you are from a wealthy house and yet I have never seen you before. You seem to be around my age but you're definitely not a student at Hexside. So tell me, who are you?" she said while staring intently at him.

Hunter was taken aback by her sudden bluntness and a bit impressed by her observation skills but he would not let on. "Who says that I am not a servant? Or that I stole these clothes? And what makes you so sure I’m not a student at Hexide? Maybe we’ve just never met?

"Oh you’re definitely from a wealthy house,'' she stated matter of factly. “You could be wearing rags and it would still be obvious. And as you so blatantly pointed out I am a Blight it is our business to know everyone who could be a potential ally or competitor. If you went to Hexide I would know it. Don’t worry though I won’t pry on who your family is but do you have a name I could call you?”

The boy paused for a moment trying to take in the situation he was in before finally saying “ My name is Hunter”

“Well Hunter it’s a pleasure to meet you, '' she said as she stretched out her hand. Hunter looked at it before taking it hesently remembering her earlier jest on his behalf. “It's a pleasure to meet you to . . . Emira'' he stammered trying not to make eye contact. Emira gave him a mischievous grin before moving closer to him “This feels like the start of a beautiful friendship don’t you think?”

Hunter instinctively tried moving away from her. Her gaze was still unsettling to him and although he wouldn't admit it, something about this girl scared him.

#the owl house #toh #huntmiraweek2021 #the owl house hunter #hunter x emira #goldmira #huntmira #huntmira Week 2021 day 1 #the owl house emira #emira blight #golden guard

23 notes · View notes

cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Text

Hotsprings - Sonamy

Rated SE, for Shipping for Everyone ;)

prompt:

It was starting to take its small tolls on Amy.

One day, it was “Sorry, Amy! Eggman’s not playing nice today. Really wasn’t expecting this to come up so soon... but hey! There’s always next time!” ...Always, next time.

She didn’t think much of it until he started sprucing up the words every now and then, “Wow! Is it that time, already? You’re probably not gonna like this... but Tails just discovered-” or, “Dang, this bites, but hey! Listen to this!”, and, “Woohoo! I finally found Shadow! Tough job looking for a literal government secret, but I finally think we’re about to hit a breakthrough!”

It was never, “How ya doing?” or, “Let’s reschedule to about this day and time?” and, “Man, really miss ya though!”

So Amy’s heart began to pang, although she did love his goofy messages, knowing they were sincerely sorry... it just felt like he never had the time to be with her.

So, she took the lead and headed out in the dead of night. However, it was chilly, and she found herself hugging her arms close to herself and shivering as she made it over the hill, which was the last location he had mentioned to her.

“Ohh...” she whined, looking around but finding no trace of anyone there. It was full of crevices left from a battle though, craters and carved up rock cliffs... the ground was extremely uneven, but where Amy had trekked up the hill, it was relatively alright.

Realizing she was just too slow, she stomped her foot down on the wet grass, “Hmph! This is the last time I’m being left behind! ...W-whaaa!!!” She had scarcely moved her arms to her sides to bundle up her fists tightly in her frustrations when a sudden sharp and piecing wind rocked her back, and staggering against it, she found her awkward footsteps causing her to slip up over the flattened surface of fresh, sprinkled, and slushie-like snow to slide down the wet grass.

“Ahhh!!!!” she tumbled and slid until hitting the ground harshly with her chin, making her eyes close and their lids quiver at the pain. “Ah-ah-ouch...” she slowly got up, looking back at the field and through the sprinkled, cold wind could imagine Sonic and the gang’s epic showdown... the last adventure still evident in the landscape.

“...They...” she felt her bottom lip quivering, as though the pain was already forming tears, but her heart now wanted to join the pity party as well. “They must have had so much fun.” The struggle of not feeling somewhat envious of the boys was a bit too much on her poor heart.

She laid back down and softly let herself feel the sorrow of always being blown off to go on some--although important, and she knew it--fantastical adventure that they may or may not write her about.

She pulled out the Miles-Electric Tails had gifted her while tensing against the bitter cold.

She turned on her tracker, just in case anyone was wondering... in case... anyone would notice.

“If I stay out here...” she told herself aloud, desiring to hear something besides the quiet of her lonely, softly falling tears... though they were freezing against her cheeks and making her even colder. “I’ll catch a cold for sure.” She looked up at the foggy white sky... wondering if Sonic and her friends were cold too, or celebrating somewhere far away from her... far away from their devices... that would alert them to her beacon being sent out.

She pulled her legs closer to her, letting her head fall back to the stinging cold of the grass... but at least she couldn’t feel dirt or ground.

She’d have to wash up anyway, it’s not like she’d freeze to death...

She felt a sniffle come from her nose as her eyes were beginning to burn.

“Sonic hates crying...” she told herself, but continued to let little tears fall. “Maybe... he’ll just know... and come find me.”

Her hopes pushed through her mind as she continued to call his name, wondering if somewhere, somehow... he’d take a moment to think of her...

Then her Miles-Electric blinked on and she held it closer, desperate to see what was on it.

Another beacon... but not Sonic’s.

“Ohh...” Amy sat up and wiped some of the frosty tears off her cheeks, feeling the wind pick up and trying to face her back towards it, hoping to brace against the cruelty of the seasons of nature just a few more minutes.

She had traveled pretty far, but seeing the beacon, she responded with a message. “I’m out right now, and it’s freezing cold! Who’s out here too?”

The message she received looked a lot like Knuckles’s awful key-pressing, and trying to decode his bad usage of spelling and grammar, she tilted the Miles-Electric to get a better look... when the reflection showed a on-coming blizzard or avalanche sweeping through the forest.

She gasped and looked behind her, seeing the rolling cloud of snow like a large, trumpeting wave that was crashing over everything in sight.

Something so big... would easily cover her in seconds.

Gasping, she got up immediately and clicked on the video, sending the message out with her beacon active. “Help!!!” she cried out, slipping up the hill as she tried to find some traction.

Looking back at the on-coming snow storm, stampeding upon the ground and leaping in a rushed frenzy to spray out at the air, she abandoned the video and simply tried to run.

Finally making it up the slippery slope she gasped as she was covered immediately in pounding cold punches that seemed to topple over one another.

Afraid, she sucked in a breath, knowing she could suffocate if she didn’t.

It was hard though, with all the weight, she could barely feel her stomach want to move.

When the sounds turned muffled and she knew she was buried under feets of snow, she kicked and tried to waved about to loosen the snow but she was pinned...

The next best thing... was to...

Feeling she needed air, she curled up into a ball and spun as best she could. Making her body smaller was the perfect solution, the snow was easily manipulated by her spinning and she created a small hole for herself.

She uncurled and tried to breathe, pushing upwards but the snow only bumped slightly up. “No..!” she felt her breath freeze as though with each breath, icicles formed in her lungs, but she knew that was exaggerating.

It was so cold... she couldn’t feel her feet or hands anymore.

Realizing if she summoned her hammer, she could have the snow compact instead of remaining like flurries, and she knew she couldn’t risk it.

She instead started to burrow, but the snow quickly collapsed over her, “Ah!” and she had to curl and spin again.

Exhausted, not having enough oxygen, and feeling the snow would turn to slush soon and ice over... leaving her in an unpleasant prison or worse... tomb... she patted the edges to find the most grainy or soft falling snow pile she could, and dived.

“Rragh!” she kicked her legs through and started to tunnel, feeling it collapse on her, she held her breath. It already stung to breathe anyway, being extremely uncomfortable and somewhat painful to suck in.

She felt the weight keeping her from moving anywhere and then felt the snow under her collapse as well.

“Ahh!!” she was now with her legs above her and uncomfortably arching her back. Freezing... she wasn’t in her little crude igloo anymore...

As she tried to shift around, more snow fell, and she struggled to even get up.

Her hands were just moving through piles and piles of snow that dropped her further down... she had made a small tunnel pocket and then fell through more of the snow...

She began to panic, curling and spinning but the snow wasn’t strong here, so it just dug her down deeper and she uncurled again, back in an even more uncomfortable position with no way to push herself further up and out.

However... pushing the snow that had compiled at her face, she saw there was a yellow beam of light on the top.

“Ah..!” she knew she couldn’t make it, but at least the exit was somewhat closer than she thought. “Help..! Ah..” More snow tumbled the more noise she made...

Pulling out the Miles-Electric and brushing out the snow from it, she moved her arms to her center and tried to balance her weight on her head and shoulders, using her elbows to give somewhat a stability to her predicament.

If she had a neck, it’d be hurting twice as much too.

The Miles-Electric was still recording... “Someone get over here! I’m trapped!” she had just enough breath and strength to whisper a cry out for help again. The Miles-Electric then read- ‘Succeeded file limit, your recording has ended. Sending the first half.’

She groaned, “Tails...” she was about to complain but put that aside and didn’t record anymore, “Knuckles...” she clicked his beacon and found that it had ended. “...Sonic...” she felt more warm tears threatening, and just to feel the warmth, was tempted to cry. But knowing it would only freeze her faster, she didn’t. Shaking her head, she felt more wet snow fall on her head, and brushing it off, began to be afraid as breathing was harder in this position, her body heat was melting the snow... she would be in a icy prison sooner than she anticipated.

“I just wanted to find you...” she admitted, looking up at the top where she thought the exit was. “I... I’m so lonely... without you.” she hugged the Miles-Electric, a light as the yellow beam began to fade and it turned white with foggy light.

She was breathing irregularly, in shallow breaths due to the cold, her upside-down position, and her panic setting in as her body wanted to struggle but she forced some trained breathing that kept her somewhat warm.

She tried to close her eyes and figure out how to keep herself warm. The more spread out she was, the less she’d fall, but the colder she’d get.

“What’s taking them so long!” she finally blurted out, as more snow sounded out her vibrated echoes and then her vision was taken from her as the tunnel collapsed.

“Ah-!”

She didn’t know how long it had been... since she shut her eyes.

She wondered if when they found her, what would they react like? She didn’t want them to be sad... before coming out, she had thought about wearing something, but figured she’d arrive at the end of their adventure so they’d take her back with them regardless. She thought the worst she’d receive, at most, was a cold.

And then with a cold... at least Sonic wouldn’t feel guilty about canceling so much... she would have a plausible excuse... other than feeling it was making him feel a negative way by constantly having to write her apology texts.

It was so cold... she almost felt herself stop breathing just to avoid more melted snow she was swallowing ice over her insides... when muffled thumping came from above.

She squinted her eyes through the white snow, melting over her bangs... dripping down to her eyes as though she was submerged over water.

She tilted her head and shook it slightly, moving some of the snow as she still hugged the activated Miles-Electric.

More scuffling through the snow as she saw it start being scooped away in fast piles, just vanishing as more and more light came through.

She smiled, ‘Always... in the nick of time.’

She saw a familiar white glove reach down and continue digging.

‘Sonic...’ she felt her consciousness weakening at the growing light. ‘Couldn’t make an excuse this time... could you?’ she morbidly joked to herself as she felt his glove hit against her raised boot.

She could hear her name through the snow, muffled and seeming distant, she shivered and tried to move her foot to show she was alright.

But it was so numb, not even tingles anymore.

She could barely feel the pressure of Sonic’s hands gripping her boot and pulling. However, the snow had compacted, and pulling her out wasn’t much of an option without first cracking through it.

She shivered again, hoping the action served to prove she was alive.

She was too cold to speak out loud, but was so happy to be found.

More scooping through the snow, before finally, Sonic’s head could be seen through the small tunnel that she was looking up from.

“Amy!” she could hear him... she could see him through the blurry white of her vision.

She mumbled, trying to speak but he reached down, putting his whole arm through the snow and into the tunnel till he could feel the resting snow on her. He patted as though making sure he could reach her, before brushing off the snow and seeing her blink. “Can you move?” he called, but she could only shiver, her hands frozen in spot and shaking as she couldn’t even feel if she was gripping the Miles-Electric still or not.

She kept trying to form the words ‘help’ but couldn’t.

It just sounded like sniffling stifles, and Sonic moved out his arm to look in with his eye, seeing her predicament. “Wow, it tumbled you good, didn’t it? Hang on!” he spun through the snow. She wanted to warn him that by doing so, he’d slip into a nasty tomb as well, but it was too late.

She felt herself falling further and Sonic spread himself out after uncurling and realizing why Amy couldn’t move.

His gritted teeth now parted to show his amazement at how bad the situation really was, but she saw his expression change from a ‘rescue’ to a ‘life-threatening predicament’.

As his face turned serious, she was glad to see he was finally absorbing the true depth of the sad tale she was writing.

He bent down and wrapped an arm around her head, “Push me down and get yourself up, I can burrow through the snow.”

He couldn’t even swim...

When his glove touched her, she let out a painful cry, and he flinched away.

“What’s..?” he didn’t finish his question, her skin felt ice. He realized her back was probably frostbitten and that his immediate warmth and pulling on her probably just cracked skin. Now he was glaring at the top of the snow, “...Shoot.” it was like a cuss for him.

“Well, we’ve certainly gotten ourselves into an adventure... huh, Amy?” She knew why he wasn’t showing her his face... he was trying not to frighten her.

She didn’t want to feel anything anymore, but simply watch him, already comforted by the fact that she was found.

He’d get them both out of this... and maybe... when it didn’t hurt so much... give her a warm hug that never parted his arms from around her again.

Her lip trembled as she wanted to also comfort him but couldn’t speak, her lungs already severely damaged from the cold and her breathing even more appalling.

His ears flicked as he tested the snow’s durability and noticed how it became more solid above him and less so below. “Strange.” he look back at Amy, “Ready for a bit of a rushed exit?”

She knew what he was saying.

‘Brace yourself.’.

This was going to hurt a lot.

She mustered a nod, but slipped her balance and he grabbed her.

“AHH!!” she let out a cry and as his fast moving feet piled snow under them, and finally, he was able to manage to tumble the powdery snow away and get to the more crystal blue kind, and gripped the walling of the tunnel.

“Hang on!” he spin dashed her out with a throw. His supersonic feet made their usual sound effect as he got himself out as well, and saw Amy crash into the snow, sinking down. “No..!” he tried to move through the snow like he did last time to reach her and grabbed her before she could be sunken beneath the snow again.

His gloves were sprinkled with pink, flakey particles of skin and he winced at how badly her condition was. “Come on, endure it just a bit longer, I’ve got you.” he picked her up and moved her over his back as he tried to find a way to not touch her exposed back so much, not wanting to cause further damage.

Trekking through the snow, he had to go a lot slower than he liked too, but was continuing to move towards less and less snowbanks, more and more compacted, solid footing and sighed when he finally reached a tree, knowing he was somewhere near the mountain’s forest valley now.

“Phew, how we doing back there?” he looked over his shoulder and froze when he saw her out cold...

He bit his mouth shut and studied her unconscious face, feeling her shallow breathing from her stomach now.

It was a sunny day, but...

He looked to see the mountain had some caves, and knew a good spot for her recovery.

Thinking quickly, he didn’t want her back exposed to the sun if it really was frostbitten, and moved swiftly against the snowy terrain.

The rocks were cold and slippery, but he kept Amy on his shoulders tried to only grab at her arms and legs, keeping her from falling off.

When reaching the cave he had remembered, he was glad to see some fireflies also took shelter here, and watched them glow and descend in their sleep.

There were huge, leafy plants and other large ferns and then... a duel pool with two large mouths that had one wide waterfall from the top of a slit in the mountain.

It was misty... and he was glad he had found it in time.

Lightly setting Amy down near the mounded rocks by the waterfall’s slit, he looked to try and find anything that could warm her up safely.

Taking some of the leaves, he stripped them off the low, fatted tree sprouts and drapped them over her, rubbing her arms first and then her head.

She was wet and hardly breathing... he needed to dry her first.

Working swiftly, he had her dry but dared not to address her back yet.

He closed his eyes, getting a bit upset at the state she was in and trying to remember the locations where herbs for healing were.

Once calmed down enough to focus, he washed his gloves, luckily not stained, in the spring and then waited for them to dry before charging out of the mountain again.

Skidding down the peak with nothing but his red, golden buckled shoes to act as skis, he wobbled his arms for balance a moment and then expertly rode down the mountain. Normally, he’d be doing tricks, but in this case, he just bent his head down and made himself more angular, allowing the icy wind to move right over him.

He rolled into a spinball on his way down and then quickly went to gather the herbs. Each item wasn’t too far away... some for blood clots, disinfecting, encouraging skin healing, and others for the inner-use like to contrast the bitter cold and warm her up a bit.

He kept collecting whatever was useful but close by, and for him, that could be miles and miles away, but it was nothing to what he could do if he had solid ground to dash across.

Arriving back at the cave, he moved over and noticed Amy was finally breathing a bit more normal, the fireflies were attracting around her and a dragonfly went to sit on her ear but Sonic flicked his hand and it flew off.

He tsk’ed at the curious insects and also batted them lightly away, before sitting down beside her and getting the ingredients prepared.

“..Ah..! Ughh... S...Sonic?” Amy slowly came to, and he smiled.

“For a snowy retreat, you sure picked the worst place to be.” he kid, applying the second layer to her back.

“AH!” she tightened against the pain, “W-what is that? Moss?!”

“It’s chewed herbal medicine, for your information.” he lightly rubbed it over the cracking of her skin, and as he pulled his hand away, Amy noticed the red on his gloves...

“...Chewed?” she looked away, disgusted.

Sonic shrugged, half-heartedly pouting his lips a moment as though excusing her distaste. “Had to mix the medicines somehow. Don’t complain if it’s shoddy. I didn’t want to waste any time looking for proper applications at the grocery store.” he teased, and continued to work on her.

She endured, making less noise then before. Squinting her eyes, she moved her hands up to her chin, laying on her stomach and just trying to breath in the warm mist that was around her. “Where... emm... are we?”

“Welcome to Sonic Hotsprings!” he gestured, just playing around and keeping the mood light. “After all the times I couldn’t make it, I tend to pick the lousiest times to take you out, huh, Amy?”

It actually did make her smile, even through the yucky gunk he was putting on her back. It smelled... but she had the right to think it was moss, it was extremely dark green, and looked as though lumps of wetted goop.

“Did you find me..?”

“Through your tracker? Yeah. Didn’t expect the video though. That scared the living daylights out of Knuckles.” He seemed to grow more somber after saying that. “You... didn’t hold back on that shock effect.”

She realized she must have scared him too, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“I’m sorry...” she lightly spoke through the side of her muzzle, looking away as she felt the warm goop start stinging... but at least that meant it was working... somewhat.

“Don’t be,” Sonic’s voice turned tender, and she blushed slightly under hearing it, her ears curling back slightly to secretly hear him better. “I’m glad you made it. Seriously, if it weren’t for that video, we’d just have figured you were cold...”

“Would... would you have still come for me?” she didn’t know if he would really answer that, and with the sudden silence, she figured the video was what saved her life.

“Of course, I would have.” Sonic finally spoke out, but it was quiet... too quiet. “Why would you ask something like that..?”

She didn’t respond right away, but waited a moment. His hands on her back made her feel some form of a peace, and she finally did close her eyes and state, “I don’t know. Nevermind me. I’m just tired... that snow really bites.”

Sonic smiled a moment, his eyes bending as though knowing that was an understatement. “You can rest here, Amy. It’s warm. Though kinda damp, that ‘moss’ on your back will stay a bit wet and heal the better.” She heard him wiping his hands in a clap against each other and getting up.

She turned her head, “Where are you-Ah..!” she moved back into the position she was and felt Sonic kneel by her head, lightly placing a hand on it.

“Don’t move... you’ll crack more if you do.” His touch was more just precaution, and she didn’t feel any real pressure from it. “Your body is still like crumbling ice, give it a bit to thaw out. You’ll be fine overnight.”

“Overnight?” her eyes widened, “Wait-!” she saw him out of the corner of her eye descending the rocks to the hot spring.

He stopped, looking over his shoulder again to show he was listening.

“You’re not leaving me here... all alone... are you, Sonic The Hedgehog!?”

He laughed, “Didn’t realize you were scared of the dark.” He gave her a playful wink, “No, Amy. I’m not going anywhere.” he reassured her, and then pointed to the two pools. “I’m kinda cold myself. You can join me when you feel moving doesn’t bother you anymore.” he went down to the hotsprings as she sighed and grumbled at his inconsiderateness.

“So he heals my back but goes to warm up... typical.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Amy cried out, but continued to grumble off to the side.

“This wouldn’t have even happened if you had just kept your appointments with me..?”

“What?”

“Must be the waterfall!” Amy continued to fib.

“Oh, cause it sounded like the waterfall wasn’t grateful.” Sonic joked, snickering from below as he dipped his hands into the water and washed up. “I was just about to tell the inconsiderate waterfall to quiet down so you could sleep, should I still scold it for being so splashy and loud?” he smirked and leaned his head up, hoping she could hear him over the naturally pleasant sounds of the falling, rushing water.

She remained silent, then he heard fake snoring and nodded his head.

“Okay! Nevermind.” he then moved to the mouth of the cave, “Mr. Waterfall, I expect you to tell Amy upon her next momentary spur of consciousness, that I have momentarily left you to host her as I forage for some food. Now, if she tells me you even so much as grumbled a complaint against me-” He turned back with a lazy point, “I’ll write you a bad review.” he then chuckled to himself and sped off.

When he was gone, Amy attempted to sit up, and trying hard not to bend or angle her back in anyway, finally got herself up to spread out her knees and sit on the rock and look out after him.

Longing... it was the only way to describe the expression on her face.

“He’s got a lot of nerve...” she puffed out, seeing the mist part at her breath. “But that’s my Sonic for you... always trying to brighten a dark cave.” She was amused over her analogy but digressed, moving to try and stretch out her sore limps and rubbed against her cold arms.

“Brr... he could have come sooner.” she argued, then looked to the waterfall. “...You wouldn’t rat me out... a guest... right?” she smiled to it, and then tried to get up. “Ah!” she fell to a knee as the goop was firmly attached to her back, but definitely holding back her bleeding back.

She shook her head, “No good... I really should rest... but... I don’t want to close my eyes again.” She admitted and crawled as well and slowly as she could down the rocks.

She dipped her hand into the water and immediately felt herself relaxing at the warmth it gave. “Awwh~... Now this is the only state of water I’ll ever accept.” she looked over to the large, almost stunted palm trees that were ginormous by the entrance and around the cave. “...Wow, they look prehistoric.” She cautiously stood up, wincing a time or two at her haste to move, but too stubborn to just sleep and wait for food.

She carefully removed her wet and still cold clothes, and tugged the palm tree leaf down.

It was perfect, it wrapped around her and even fell down longer than any towel she ever had, and tucked and tied it securely around her.

“Well, Sonic did say it was a hot springs...” She looked to see the two pools and quickly went to work making a curtain.

“Hmm... didn’t think this through.” she realized there wasn’t anything to hold up the long blanket she was trying to construct, and knowing if Sonic returned, the blanket would only cover the view from the two adjacent pools, not the entrance.

She lifted her head back and sighed, “Ahhh... he’s gonna think badly of me!” she let her head flop down to her chest and groaned at the stretching of her skin that she knew could only mean she was making her condition worse.

“Okay, we’ll cover the waterfall then.”

She tied the large palms to create a self-standing curtain, arching the waterfall, before realizing this trapped her within.

“Augh!” she kicked the curtain down, “Some hotsprings if it doesn’t even allow some form of privacy!”

She froze when the curtain fell and Sonic stared from having sped through the entrance of the cave, blinking as though not expecting Amy to be wrapped in a leaf sitting under the waterfall.

He averted his eyes slowly as they just so happen to come across her clothes sprawled against a branch of a leaf.

Amy, embarrassed, withdrew behind the waterfall and covered her face. “MMMMMMMM...” she groaned, “Nothing’s going my way today, is it?”

It’s not like Sonic could see anything, she was just wearing a long dress almost, but still...

She kicked her feet out from the waterfall, “Don’t just stand there! R-roll me the fruit!”

He thought to himself, ‘If I were a lesser man... this would be pretty bad for her.’ but then jokingly let the idea slide and walked to side, laying down the fruits and rolling them through the waterfall while avoiding looking at her.

“Any reason why you’re not sound asleep and trying to heal yourself?” he kept his eyes averted, but then sat down and began his own plans... taking his shoes and socks off to soak in one of the pools anyway.

She pulled her feet in and caught the fruit, chewing quickly on them.

“Hey! You’ll choke if you don’t-” he leaned his head back, looking over to her now as he heard her start coughing with a mouth full of food.

He sighed, dipping his head back down and walking over to the curtain, shaking his head.

“Not like I couldn’t have done this for you, you know?” he looked back at the blurred pink behind the waterfall, and smiled sweetly at her shyness. “You look like you belong in Hawaii with that dress on.”

She wouldn’t dare call it a towel now.

“I... I really wanted to be in the water...” she pushed her two pointer fingers together, taking more polite, lady-like bites now.

He moved to the water’s edge and dunked his feet in up to his knees, sitting down and sighing at the warmth.

“Yeah, well... I did say we’d be here a while.”

She could hear him judging her and spat out at the falling water.

His ear twitched, and he quietly chuckled at her growing frustration as he lifted one leg out of the water. “Want me to turn away while you get in?”

“No!” she barked, too embarrassed now to even move.

“Ah...” Sonic figured it was something like that, and lowered the raised leg back into the water. “...How’s the back?”

“...It hurts...”

“I told you to sleep it off. Did all the medicine I apply stay on?” he looked over his shoulder, but wasn’t actually looking at anything, just addressing her.

“...Yeah, it’s still on.”

“...I should check to make you an honest guest.” he muttered to himself, leaning over the water and scratching his nose.

“...What?”

“Hmm?” he leaned towards her direction.

“D-did you say something? I couldn’t hear you...”

“Oh, just Mr. Waterfall and me. He just informed me this is a co-ed hotspring. Guess we didn’t need this.” he kicked the blanket and she about had a tissy-fit, throwing some fruit at his head as he ducked and laughed. “Amy, since when have I ever disrespected you?”

“Don’t even joke about that!” she hid herself more behind the waterfall, but shivered since she couldn’t feel the warmth of the water anymore...

Sonic grew a bit bashful then too, realizing she was making this awkward when he was hoping it wouldn’t be.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

She heard the splashing of him leaving and immediately moved through the waterfall, “Wait!” she held a hand to the top of her leaf to make sure the waterfall didn’t sag the covering down, and then sat under the waterfall, blushing and looking away. “Geez, you really have no idea about social norms, do you?”

He didn’t look at her, but smiled and closed his eyes, turning to walk to the waterfall and sat a distance away from her, letting it massage his tired shoulders from digging them out of the snow. “Ahh~ I know the norms. But I didn’t exactly break any rules, now did I?”

“Are you blaming me then!?” Amy puffed up her cheek and he turned his head away, showing her even more so that he was respecting not to stare.

“You’re covered, anyway, but I’m not interested in anything than making sure the medicine stays on your back.” he stretched, showing he was relaxed, although she didn’t realize how uncomfortable he really was.

She blushed and looked away from him, but sighed and agreed that she should trust he only was interested in her recovery...

But that made her somewhat disappointed too...

“You... You saved me. Thank you.” she ducked her head down.

“Anytime!” he let the water slide off his back and kept his eyes closed for her, just so she didn’t have to worry or fret.

Amy watched the pools as Sonic and her’s splashes from the water hitting against them created rippling symphonies out of them...

“...Do you ... Do you know why I was there?”

“Last known location that I sent you.. yeah?”

She dipped her head further down, but moved her legs to let them sink into the warm water of the other pool.

She smiled at finally feeling warm and closed her eyes, looking up and no longer being self-conscious anymore.

“It’s been so long... since I had even heard your voice. For some time now, I wondered if you were just avoiding me again...”

“Again?” Sonic’s voice sounded surprised, but she continued.

“I just... I didn’t know why you would plan something and then let something else come up so frequently... a girl can only accept being told to wait so many times...” she gave a humorous grumble, but with her eyes closed, was glad she didn’t have to look to see Sonic’s reaction.

She tilted her head and bent to let the water flow more directly, and that’s when Sonic piped up.

“Hey, the medicine...”

“This ‘dress’ is locked so tightly that it’s not even touching it.” she argued, “Just trust me on that.”

Silence for a moment...

“Then trust me that I never planned to need to cancel on you so many times...”

She felt her heart, still slightly frosted, begin to melt with a few gentle thumps at his kind words.

She couldn’t help but giggle a second, lifting a leg up from the pool and letting it down again, hearing it’s gentle movement in the spring.

“Why did you cancel? Couldn’t you have rested from your big adventure with me?”

“Heh, guess you have a point.”

“I do, don’t I? Why didn’t you ever suggest alternative days? Or times? Why didn’t ask how I was feeling or how I felt about you canceling all the time... did you... did you just not think about how that might have affected me? After so many times..?”

He could tell by her voice she was getting upset, and took a big breath in.

“No, Amy.” He admitted, “I honestly didn’t think about it.”

She felt her lips tighten, but accepted his ignorance. “You’ve got a one-track mind, alright... But when you’re with Tails or Knuckles..? Compared to me..? Is it... is it somewhat different?”

“The solutions?” Sonic questioned.

“No, no... not their reactions to being blown off-”

“Hey! I never blew you off!” Sonic countered, “I just couldn’t make it! At least give me that.”

Amy rolled her head, stretching it out, “I don’t want to explain it to you...” she admitted, weakly sighing it out in an escalating trill. “Ahh~ You’re so annoying!!!~”

Sonic actually laughed at that, quietly, but she was glad he at least thought her complaining cute.

“...Give it a try?”

His words made her grow weaker... and not being able to resist his charms, she conceded.

“When I see you look at Tails... or Knuckles... it’s like you’re really looking at them.”

The waters sounds seemed to become ambiance as she spoke.

“I can’t remember the last time... you really looked at me. Seeing who I really am.., by looking down into the depths of my soul... and accepting every part of it. You always say how you see the best in people before the worst. You also say you just have this sense of knowing if someone is in the right or the wrong... I’ve been wondering... thinking a lot about it... have you... found something you can’t stand to see in me? That’s why you... you don’t mind being taken away on some amazing adventures with Tails and Knuckles... but you’re perfectly fine leaving me behind?”

When she opened her eyes, she wondered if the warmth was from the waterfall trailing down her form or from her own tears.

She hadn’t been this honest, even with herself for a long time...

“Being in that icy snow... was like being away from your gaze forever...”

When she looked over to see him, she was shocked to see his eyes were opened, staring into her soul, and not looking away.

With red all over her face at his intense but kind eyes, she summoned her hammer and walloped him into the water.

“W-ah-wah-wahhh!!” he fell instantly into the pool.

“Ah! Sonic!” She immediately regretted her action, and getting up, felt the sting in her back but still dived into the water.

Seeing him struggle, his cheeks were puffed with air and he kept trying to ‘run’ through the water, but couldn’t.

Giving up, he folded his arms and let himself sink, but looked up to see Amy wrapping her arms around his head, and getting to the bottom of the pool, kicking off and pulling him up too.

“Pah!” the two took a breath in together and Amy moved his flailing arms around her shoulders, kicking to guide him back to the edge.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t expecting you to be that close!”

He coughed and hacked before looking back to her, “I just... wanted to see your eyes... real badly.” he panted, and then coughed some more.

She couldn’t help but smile, then push him back further onto the land. “Get the curtain, already!”

“Fine... fine...” He hacked at the end and then raced to get his bearings and do as he was told.

The two sat, back to back with the leafy curtain finally strung up between them.

She could feel his heart though, rapidly pacing and scrunched her body inward, hoping it meant something romantic and not just the fact that he was drowning moments before.

“...What did you see?”

“Nothing. Just you in a leaf dress.”

“No! Not that!” she batted the leaf curtain, “Sonic! I meant in my eyes!”

“O-oh, that...” he paused a moment...

In his mind, he had seen her descend through the water with the ends of her leaf dress spread out like miniature wings... Her quills had spread out around her head to flow effortlessly through the water as she reached him.

Her arms wrapped around him and he was pulled up to her, and it was the first time he had felt her so close to him...

He had a goofy grin and kept rubbing his muzzle, knowing his feelings might be all over it by now...

“I saw a girl.” he stated, thinking his words carefully. “Reaching out to me in the only way she knew how.”

Amy blushed and smacked her hands to the side of her cheeks, “A-and? W-wh-what else did you see... was that it?” she puckered her lips as though disappointed again, but he continued.

“Nah, there was more. So much more, in fact, that I couldn’t peel my eyes away... There’s so much more there than I ever knew... Even if it was a brief moment...”

His mind moved to seeing her eyes under the water, the warm heat and her arms around him, her eyes opened wide as she dipped down to embrace him and pull him up out of the depths of the pool.

He suddenly sneezed.

“Sonic!”

He rubbed his nose, “Guess I’ll have to make another appointment to finish, huh?”

“That’s-! Ah...” she was about to complain again before realizing what this meant...

He wanted to spend time with her. He wasn’t trying to push her away or pull himself away with his adventures.

She gripped her leafy towel closer to her and nodded, “Okay... but you better not be late this time! And you better tell me the end of that sentence, you hear me!? Sonic,..! Sonic The Hedgehog!”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, I hear you!” Sonic waved his hand about in the air, and looking back to the curtain, Amy could see his shadow doing the action. “But now, I’m pretty sure that medicine might have polluted the pool a bit...”

“It’s fine. I still feel it. You applied it well.” She looked towards where her clothes were. “S-Son-Sonic?”

“Hmm?” he was finally relaxing, enjoying the warmth, the company... even Amy’s rapidly beating heart.

He lifted a leg up and leaned slightly back against the curtain, hoping beforehand he wouldn’t hurt her by leaning against her back, but seeing as she was recovering well, decided to test it.

She didn’t wince, but instead, fidgeted and decided it was best to not ask for it quite yet.

“Nevermind... Thank you, for everything...”

“Nah, thank you.”

“For what?”

He patted the curtain, “For making this, without it, I might have actually tried to hold your hand.” he teased.

“Ah! Stop teasing me!” she pushed against the curtain, “Don’t you know how much I-! Ah! Sonic!” she realized she pushed him back into the pool, but instead of struggling this time, he waited for her to come in and rescue him.

“Sonnnniicc!!!” she pushed up the leafy curtain and dived in after him.

He was laying on the bottom of the pool’s floor again, eyes closed, hands behind his head and legs crossed slightly.

He looked up to see that same image, and smiled as her form met his at the bottom of the hotspring...

Wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer as she raced to save him, he never took his eyes... off of hers.

#sonamy #sonicxamy #sonic prompt #sonic au #sonic au prompt #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #cutegirlmayra

105 notes · View notes

alia-turin · 3 years

Text

After me pooling you guys yesterday it was determined that now I need to post that Caranthir fic I have been writing for weeks now and I’m very much unsure about. By popular demand here it comes. It will be multichapter, it is actually mostly finished but it does need some polishing and final touches, I would try to post at least one chapter per week if not more. Not sure how many chapters will be overall, but I do promise some more Aen Elle action later. Thank you for reading. The fic is kind of a follow up on this story HERE but you don’t have to read it, things will make sense either way.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 1) Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter AO3 Link

She could hear noises around that she was not familiar with. The forest had always been silent beside the songs of birds and the occasional animal passing by. Wind or rain, but not that. Footsteps, many of them.

Aine looked through the window, she could see shadows in the distance and hear muffled voices. It wasn’t too stranger for a hunter to find himself that deep in the woods, but it was not usual. Based on the number of voices and steps, that was not just one hunter. Then there was another sound she had not heard in the forest - horses running and dogs howling. She felt fear running through her body, she was alone and that had never scared her, although she had wondered what she would do if someone was to come and try and harm her. For five years that has not been something that never happened, nor she had reason to think it might actually happen. She ran to the door to make sure it was locked and that was when the screams started. Those were not animal screams, those were elven or human voices wrapped in fear. She stepped back from there as if being away would stop the horrible picture that was growing in her head and disappear, but that did not change, it just became louder and more violent.

She made another step backwards when something hit the door. It sounded as if a tree trunk was thrown against it. Another hit and she jumped, as it happened, on the third hit the door fell open. Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw what came through the door. What she assumed was a man was dressed in armor taller and larger than any elf or human she had seen.

“You are a pretty one.” he said as he walked toward her, she could not see his face as he was wearing a helmet but Aine could swear she could hear a chuckle even if whatever rational part of her brain was working told her that was not possible. She tried to run away, right through her table, but as soon as she turned her back on him he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her toward himself. She screamed, she tried to reach for his grip, but her nails painfully dug in his armor. He dragged her out of the house as if she was nothing, his grip pulling cruelly on her hair, her legs trying to keep her somewhat standing, but that failed. She was just a rag doll, she could feel her clothes tearing as they rubbed against dirt and stone, her skin started burning.

Caranthir dismounted his horse in the midst of the chaos. Humans were screaming around him, dogs howling and the smell of blood filled his head like a long needed drug. Part of him felt pity for the forest being disturbed by the sounds of violence, but it was going to be over soon. When they captured the escaped humans he could just open a portal to Tir na Lia and they will be done with that pitiful task. He looked around as their men were already lining the humans next to a small wooden house. Strange, he had not been that far in the woods recently, but a house here? It looked more like an old hunting lodge, a very small one, maybe that is why it was abandoned. It wasn’t too far from the nearest town, but it wasn’t close either. As he was musing over the place he saw Imlerith march from the entrance, dragging someone after himself. A woman, she couldn’t keep her balance, her legs and feet were just trying to keep up with the mountain of a man that was pulling her. At first Caranthir ignored it, that was not something that caught his attention anymore, Imlerith can do whatever. He was about to walk away, he didn’t need to see that, although he was going to hear about it no matter if he wanted or not. That woman better preyed for quick death as he was sure Imlerith won’t show an ounce of mercy. Then something caught his attention. Caranthir turned very slowly and just now noticed what Imlerith was dragging. The first thing he saw was the bundle of red hair in the man’s fist, a spark of green eyes with delicate features.

It couldn’t be. Memories rolled in his mind like an avalanche.

He rushed toward Imlerith, he was in fact running, but he realized that only after he reached the other man.

“Stop.” he placed a hand on Imlerith’s shoulder. He was sitting on top of her already, her body looked so small and fragile compared to him. “Stop!” he repeated louder and Imlerith did stop, he couldn’t see his face because of the helmet but he could imagine the annoyance. Foolish of Caranthir to stay between a beast and his prey.

“Want to join?” Imlerith tilted his head, the woman tried to push him off herself, silly girl, even Caranthir wasn’t sure if he would be able to move the other man if he was in her place.

Caranthir didn’t say a thing, he was struggling with his own confusion, she was nothing to him, just some girl that for a second brough painful memories to his mind, but he knew it wasn’t her, so why did he even bother what happened?

“We don’t have time for that.” Was the first thing that came to Caranthri’s mind. They had time for...everything they were not running on a schedule, that could take them days if they wanted to no one was going to tell them a thing.

“You want her for yourself.” Imlerith started laughing. He pushed himself up and stepped away. “Go on then.”

The girl saw her chance and tried to run, but Caranthir used his staff to trip her, she fell face down, and he pressed his foot on her lower back so she couldn’t escape. Imlerith walked away laughing as if he just witnessed a hilarious joke. It was a joke just not a very funny one.

“Please…” the woman pleaded as he moved his foot off and knelt next to her. He grabbed her face, his armoured hand gripping her jaw hard and forcing her to look at him.

He observed her carefully, hair was the same blood red color, but that was about where the similarities ended. Two very different women, not much in common between them, his mind was playing tricks on him, she was dead while the girl in his hand was very much alive. It wasn’t her obviously, but why was he so bothered? She was pretty, very pretty. Half human half elf, frame was smaller and shorter, more human, but even frozen with fear it had the Aen Elle grace. Her face was also just a mix of both races, still beautiful despite the tears and then there were the eyes. Once upon a time he had tried to figure out how exactly Avallac’h had made him. He read about so many genetic oddities, including the mismatching eye colors, a rarity, certainly just nature doing its thing in her case, unlike all the malformations on his body. Then he sensed something he had missed before. He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “You can use magic.” it wasn’t a question.. Her tears had stopped, but she still looked at him like a doe that was about to be devoured by wolves. “You should have defended yourself.”

She continued to look at him with these scared eyes and for a second time today he had to fight with his own mind. Part of him wanted to end her here, she was half human, humans should not be allowed anywhere near magic, they were too weak. But she was also Aen Elle. Even more importantly something in his chest was feeling so tight that it almost hurt physically. That was stupid. She was dead, that was just some random girl Imlerith dragged out of nowhere.

“Caranthir!” it was Imlerith shouting somewhere behind him, but he ignored him. He had to decide what to do. She wasn’t one of the humans they were hunting; he knew that, but he could not leave her here either. Half human, half elf with magic, that she probably didn’t know how to control, otherwise Imlerith would have had a very bad day. No, it was irresponsible to leave her here. Too dangerous.

“You will be coming with me.” as soon as he said that she tried to pull away from his grip but he was holding her jaw firm if she yanked any harder she was more likely to break it than run away from him. Caranthir released his grip for a second, but then moved his hand to her throat, her neck so small in his hold, he could probably break it with little effort. He got up, pulling her with himself, she choked, fighting for breath even if he did not think he was holding her too hard. She tried to say something but the words just didn’t come.

He started opening portals to Tir na Lia, as he watched her lose consciousness.

When she woke up she was lying on a cold stone. She wanted to believe everything that had happened was just a nightmare, but her surroundings hinted to the opposite. Aine lifted herself up slowly, her legs and back were burning from the way the stone and earth had scratched them. Standing all the way seemed like a difficult task but she did it. She was in a room, certainly not one she had ever seen before. There was a bed, table with a couple of chairs, a chest of drawers and a window to the far end. The space was almost as large as the log cabin where she lived. Floors and walls were solid stone and all the furniture was dark old wood. She walked slowly to the window, that should help her figure out where she was. Even that little walk, no more than 3 feet, was painful. Her knees have been badly bruised and every attempt to bend them was just jolts of pain and discomfort. Slowly she made her way and all she could do was stare. Tir na Lia, that was where she was, she knew the city, but she has never seen it from that point, that high up...she must be in the castle. Fear ran down her spine, why was she alive and why was she here…

That was when the door opened and Aine turned not sure she wanted to face whatever might come from there. A man walked in, taller than her, but that wasn’t really a surprise, being only half elf almost everyone was taller than her, even some humans. The elf started walking toward her and she pressed her back against the wall wishing she had more space to avoid him. It took him just a couple of steps to get to her and he grabbed her throat, painful from this morning, using his fingers to turn her head left and right as if observing a horse he was about to buy. She was terrified. Her heart was beating hundreds of kilometers per hour and she could barely breath and the reason was not his hand on her neck. His touch was almost gentle if anything in this situation could be gentle. Even from the weird angle her head was turned she could see his face. Pale hair and cold eyes, tattoos were crawling on his neck and disappearing under the furs of his cloak. Terrible scars were covering half of his face which despite the strands of hair over them she could see.

Caranthir looked at the marks his gauntlet had left around her throat, the skin already turning blue and purple. That was uncalled for, he could have been more careful. On the other hand why did he even bother about some half bred mutt? He should have broken her neck in the woods and ended it there. Instead he had taken her in Tir na Lia, for what? Because she reminded him of someone he had lost so many years ago that he could barely recall her face? But he did not need to remember the face, he remembered the feeling. Mostly the hate he felt when he lost her, the need to destroy and hurt, but when he saw this half-breed’s face something else made him stop. A feeling he had buried so deep in himself that he did not even know it existed anymore. A need he had convinced himself over so many years to be childish and unnecessary. He was imagining things, he was overthinking it.

“Please...let me go…” her voice came through broken, he couldn’t determine if it was the fear or the fact he had hurt her too bad this morning.

“Cannot let half human mage just roam around Tir na Lia.” his answer was not that much directed at her, he had no interest in her plea, it was mostly a thought he vocalized. That was too dangerous. But if that was dangerous, why was he unable to just kill her? All he had to do is snap her neck as he was holding her, push her through the window next to them, or any manner of magic that he could think about. No, not unable, he was more than able. Unwilling. His mind was conflicted for unknown reasons and all he could do was stare at her. The long red hair, complete mess from Imlerith dragging her in the woods, her face dirty but still beautiful and the mismatching eyes - green and brown. Somehow she also looked equally Aen Elle and human. When he tried to point to a future that was more human to convince himself that she is nothing but a cockroach that needs to be killed, he would find something that made her look as elven as he was.

“I’m not a mage…” there were no tears in her eyes but her voice sounded more like a cry than anything else.

Caranthir did not comment on that, he knew what he was feeling, magic is one of the things he knew better than anyone. She was either lying to him or she was not aware she had powers. But she had....she was not as old as he was, definitely much younger but an adult nonetheless. She should have felt something or done something that would make her experience the power she had no matter how weak it might be.

“Ever moved an object that you couldn’t reach but it somehow ended up in your hand?” she shook her head at the question. “Ever destroyed something just with thought in a fit of anger?” again shaking for no. “Ever had a dream that became true?” Again no.

He wasn’t wrong. That started bothering him and he could feel an obsession growing in him. He had to figure that out. He removed his hand from her throat and ran a finger through her cheek, wet with tears. She was beautiful. Not like her, it was a different sort of beauty, less...polished. Caranthir was hurting and felt excited at the same time, it had been years since something could provoke so many strong emotions in him.

“I will ask someone to bring you food and new clothes.” he stepped back just to see her frame visibly sink in relief. He knew he had that effect on people but somehow he felt a bit disappointed. He could have done worse, much worse.

#my writing #aen elle #caranthir ar feiniel #imlerith

30 notes · View notes