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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

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If I Fell For You (Part 10) - Take Care

Summary: The reader gets to meet Danneel’s parents in a somewhat unorthodox way but receives a warm welcome to her surprise. Meanwhile, a minor medical scare makes Jensen anxious that he takes too much and doesn’t give enough to the reader...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Playing With Their Hair

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, minor frightening situation, minor medical situation, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo...

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One Week Later

“Y/N, can we get orange?” asked Arrow from where she sat in the shopping cart. She pointed at the tubes of frosting and you took one off, handing it to her as you went back to searching for a box of red velvet mix.

“Come on,” you sighed, squatting down. You saw one shoved in the back and you bent down, reaching back to get it. You huffed when you pulled it back, the expiration date still plenty good. “Score. Okay Arrow what other color…”

She wasn’t in the cart anymore as you stood, her bright pink shirt and shorts nowhere in sight.

“Arrow!” you shouted, people from the farther end of the aisle turning to look at you. You breathed hard and spun around, exiting the aisle and looking at the checkouts. “Arrow!”

“Mam,” said a man in a white dress shirt and slacks, walking over with a headset on.

“I had a little girl with me and she’s missing and she was in the cart and I would have heard her climb out,” you said, walking quickly, the man following with you as you checked down aisles. “Arrow!”

You heard the guy talk into his headset when you caught pink and a guy near the front of the store. She spun around and you ran over, the manager not too far behind you. You didn’t say a word when you kicked the back of the guys knee and grabbed Arrow, picking her up.

“What’d I do?” he said, Arrow turning away. He looked more angry than you were expecting and you swallowed, the manager urging you back. “She’s the one that took my granddaughter!”

“She’s not your fucking granddaughter, pervert. I’m her nanny and soon to be step-mom so you can back the fuck off.”

“Step fucking what?” he said, his face going blank.

“Grandpa I told you Y/N’s my friend,” said Arrow. You blinked and stared at the man.

“Prove it,” you said. The man angrily pulled out his wallet and ripped out a picture, turning it around. It was a large group photo but you could clearly see Jensen and the kids in it along with… “You’re her father. Danneel.”

“Who the fuck are you,” he said. You took out your phone and went to your pictures, showing him one of your backyard bonfire from the weekend before.

“Is there a problem?” asked the manager. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes and left.

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” you said. He nodded and glanced down.

“Well, I can’t blame you. I understand the feeling,” he said.

“Can we...talk?” you asked.

“I think that’d be best before somebody else gets their ass kicked.”

Fifteen minutes later you had your bag of baking supplies in your trunk, Arrow was playing on the jungle gym and you were sat at a picnic table with Danneel’s parents.

“You guys came down early for JJ’s birthday, huh,” you said.

“We had to come down this weekend instead. Something came up last minute next week,” said her mom. You nodded and took a deep breath.

“I am so sorry. That is absolutely not how Jensen and I wanted to tell you both.”

“I’m old but I’m tough. I’ll survive,” said her father. You looked over to where Arrow was playing, gnawing on your bottom lip. “You said you were the nanny and soon to be step mom. Mind unraveling that for us?”

“I uh, I started working for Jensen in January as a nanny to help with the kids. The relationship part came a few weeks later. We’ve been engaged very briefly. Don’t even have a ring or anything yet,” you said, shaking your head. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s taken him so long to stop feeling guilty for having feelings for me. Please don’t be upset with him. I don’t...I’m not trying to replace anyone or anything. I didn’t want to like him. But I did and I love him and he deserves to be happy again.”

They looked at one another and back at you.

“Good,” they both said.

“Excuse me?”

“We think he deserves to be happy too. He was in such a bad place after the accident,” she said. “He’s sounded like himself again recently.”

“Plus if you’re willing to kick my ass for thinking I took Arrow, that gets you some brownie points,” he said with a smile. You nodded and looked down at the table, swallowing. “Not what you were expecting?”

“Your daughter’s husband is engaged to a younger woman. I wouldn’t blame you at all for whatever you might think,” you said.

“He’s got a lot of time left,” he said. “He doesn’t have to be miserable for it. We don’t want that for him. It’s not what she’d want. He’s doing exactly what she’d want from him and that’s all we can ask of him. Well and maybe stick around the country for a bit so we can see the kids some more.”

“Yeah, no plans to be anywhere but home right now,” you said. You looked over at Arrow and watched her jump off a high platform. She fell down to her knees but got up and brushed them off before she was running again.

“She’d like you,” you heard, your attention going back to the two of them. She was staring at you and you smiled.

“You don’t know a thing about me mam.”

“I think we know the important parts,” she said. You nodded and glanced down. “What do Jensen’s parents think of all this?”

“They know he’s dating but that’s it. I’m supposed to meet them next week,” you said.

“We’ll keep our lips sealed for the time being then,” she said. “What about your folks? What do they think of Jensen and the kids?”

“The kids probably haven’t met either parent yet, right?” he said.

“It’s kinda complicated...I was adopted. My mom died a long time ago. I don’t have a dad or family really,” you said. You pursed your lips and picked at the corner of the table with your fingernail, the air heavy.

“Well we approve of him,” he said. “He’s a good kid.”

“I know. He’s very special,” you said. “I just wish something so horrible didn’t have to happen to him and your daughter in order to meet him.”

“We can’t change that fact,” she said. “She’d want you to take care of him, keep an eye on him. Oh and remind him to take a break and slow down every once in a while. He always gets so caught up in work and being on the go. She had to calm him down sometimes.”

“I have noticed that trend,” you said. “I hope you don’t feel like he’s going to forget-”

“No we don’t worry about that. If we learned anything from this it’s just that you have to live while you have the chance,” he said as Arrow ran over.

“Y/N, I’m hungry,” she said.

“Alright, munchkin. Why don’t we head home and maybe your grandma and grandpa will have lunch with us?” you asked.

“We’d love to,” they said. “We’ll meet you two there.”

“That went shockingly well,” said Jensen late that night when you were having an extra slice of JJ’s early birthday cake. “Those guys loved you.”

“I think we both got a little too worried over the parents situation. Dee’s parents were great, especially considering I nearly broke his knee. I’m really excited to meet yours next weekend.”

“It’s not too long of a drive up there. I haven’t been home in a long time. I’m looking forward to it too,” he said, a big smile on his face. “I’m really glad they liked you.”

“What’s not to love?” you said, Jensen smirking around his piece of cake. “You’re so hard on yourself. I’m really happy they like me too but even if they didn’t, there’s no problem there. You’re allowed to live your life. Dee wants you to keep living it.”

“I still wonder if she was just like ‘this boy is driving me nuts again, he needs a girl,’ and somehow shoved you into my life,” he said.

“Maybe. I mean, it was good timing that I was looking for a new job the same time you were looking for a nanny.”

“Did you ever report that last guy as an inappropriate employer?” he asked.

“I tell the agency but nothing criminal no. I mostly feel sorry for the families. Nannies are stability in the kids lives and leaving them isn’t easy. Unless they’re little shitheads but even then I don’t blame them, it’s the parents that turned them into it,” you said.

“What’d you think of those three, when you met ‘em I mean,” he said.

“They’re all a little shy like you but they open up if they like you. They’re pretty damn funny. They got wit and sarcasm, even if they don’t know it yet. They’re kind and intelligent and they look to you in how to act like most kids. I knew they were good kids from the start.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” he said. You smiled and watched him eat a piece of cake, Jensen tilting his head. “You know they have called you mom before. All three of them. Accidentally but still.”

“Being a nanny has some of the roles of a parent but there’s still a difference,” you said.

“Yeah but you’ve never just been the nanny,” he said, scraping up some frosting with his fork. “Speaking of your sudden thrust into motherhood, the whole kids thing...how many of your own were you thinking of?”

“I don’t know. I don’t need to make a baby to love it. I was adopted and my mom loved me so much. I mean there’s already three of ‘em to chase after.”

“I’d like to have a baby with you. Someday,” he said. You dabbed your finger across some frosting on the plate and sucked on it, staring at him. “I know you do. Y/N there’s no more secrets. There’s never gonna be a secret between us ever again. Sometimes you get nervous but we have to talk about these things and everything. The big choices and the little ones we make together.”

“Honestly? I don’t want you to think I’ll love them less than a kid I make. I won’t. I will treat them all the same but I don’t know how to prove that to you.”

“You told me the day I hired you that I needed to hire someone I could trust, that trust was going to be so important. Y/N, I’ve never doubted your feelings for them. Shit, I’m pretty damn sure you were in love with them before me. And I get it because they aren’t scary. They can’t hurt you like the adults can. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I had a shred of doubt.”

“I gotta think about kids more I guess. How many, when. I don’t know that right now.”

“We’ll figure out all that when we’re ready. Just let me know and we’ll come back to this conversation,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You know...hearing about what you did at the store...that’s kinda super attractive you know.”

“Uh what?” you said, Jensen pulling you into his lap.

“You, going protective badass...that’s very, very hot you see,” he said.

“You’re such a guy,” you said while he picked up the last piece of cake on his fork.

“Well we-” he said as you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the dessert, pulling back with a smile. “Oh you shouldn’t have done that.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you smirked. He narrowed his eyes and set his fork down before he was standing and flipped you over his shoulder. “Jensen! Put me down!”

“Do the crime, do the time!” he said, walking over to the stairs. “Hm...what to do with you...ah I know…”

“You know…” you said before he flipped you down onto the couch and plopped down on top of you, catching most of his weight on his hands on either side of you. “Troublemaker.”

“You love it,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you, your hands wandering to his hair, holding him close. You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist, Jensen kissing you sloppy and cheeky and like a teenage boy making out for the first time.

“Dad,” said JJ, rushing down the stairs. He dropped this forehead to yours and sighed.

“What is it?” he asked. He sat up and you both looked at her, spotting the pale tint of her skin. “Feel okay?”

“Jensen call an ambulance, now,” you said, pushing him off and going over to her. He sat up and you kneeled down next to her, her lips slightly blue. You put a hand on her chest and felt the labored breathing. “Did you eat something new tonight? Or did a bug bite you?”

“I stepped on a prickly in the bathroom a minute ago,” she said.

“Jesus,” said Jensen as he rushed into the kitchen. “She got stung by a scorpion.”

He grabbed a bottle from the cabinet and started unscrewing it.

“Jensen go see what the scorpion is and get rid of it before the twins find it,” you said. He left the bottle with you and shoved the phone against your ear. “Hi, sorry how much of the anti-venom do I give her?”

“There should be a child dosage on the bottle, half the cap,” the person on the other end said. You unscrewed the lid and poured some out, having her swallow it down. She whined and you didn’t blame her based on the smell. “An ambulance will be there shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said, spotting Jensen at the top of the stairs. He was holding his wrist and had a slightly smushed object in one of the clear plastic cups from the kids bathroom. “We have the scorpion.”

“EMT’s should be able to identify it,” she said, Jensen walking down slowly. He took a seat on the bottom step and shook his head.

“Jensen?” you said, his hand reaching for the bottle. You moved his hand from his wrist and saw two dots there. “Shit. My fiance was stung too.”

“There’s a nest in the bathroom vanity,” he said, pouring himself a dose and knocking it back. “I blocked off the door but get the twins out of there, please.”

“JJ,” you said as you saw her color get better while Jensen was getting paler. You took your phone out of your pocket and dialed, handing it to her. “Tell Uncle Jared to come over right now.”

Five minutes later Jared was there, JJ and Jensen sat in the back of an ambulance, Jensen getting a shot of something in the leg.

“We’re taking them to West County,” said a paramedic.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” you said, JJ staring worriedly at Jensen who has holding his wrist again. Jared looked around as they took off and you sighed. “Hey.”

“JJ said she and Jay got stung by a scorpion?” he asked.

“She got one as far as they can tell. Jensen got three. There’s a nest in the bathroom cupboard,” you said.

“Idiot,” mumbled Jared. You raised and eyebrow and he shook his head. “He forgot to get the pest spray done this year I bet. Dee always handled that kind of stuff. They’ve had a scorpion problem before when they first moved in.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna take the twins and stay the night. I’ll call and get the spray guys in first thing in the morning. You go take care of those two,” he said. You nodded and he grabbed your arm when you headed for your car. “Wait five minutes to calm down.”

“Jared I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You just don’t know it. Go inside, get your purse, Jensen’s wallet, take a beat, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. “Make sure-”

“I got it. Go on,” he said. “Make sure he’s not freaking out. Last time he was at a hospital it wasn’t good.”

“Right. Okay. Call me if you need something. And stay away from the kids bathroom.”

“Y/N. I know. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

One Hour Later

“Is dad okay?” asked JJ from where she sat in your lap. Jensen peeled an eye open and smiled.

“I’m okay. Sleepy is all. We’ll be home in a few hours,” he said. His wrist was bandaged and he had an IV in his arm but he’d taken the anti-venom soon enough that they had enough time to get the proper medication in both him and JJ. She was already discharged but you didn’t want to leave Jensen by himself.

“Mr. Ackles,” said a doctor when she walked in the room. “Your bloodwork came back and everything looks good.”

“Awesome,” he said, sitting up in bed. “Can I get out of here?”

“You got about fifteen minutes left on that IV drip but I’ll let the nurse know to start the paperwork. I want you to take it easy tomorrow. Nothing strenuous.”

“I got it,” he said with a nod. “Nothing strenuous.”

“Jensen,” you said around noon the next day, catching him unloading some wood from the back of his truck. “What are you doing?”

“I was gonna work on those shelves for the kid’s playroom,” he said. You crossed your arms and he threw his head back. “I feel fine. The nest got cleared out and the house got sprayed. I wanna work on this.”

“You have all the time in the world to do it. Work on it tomorrow,” you said, picking up the wood plank. He tried to take it out of your hands and you growled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Please do what the doctor said and rest today,” you said. He bit his lip and you moved the pieces of wood into the garage, Jensen leaning back against the side of the truck when you shut the trunk. “You’re scared, aren’t you.”

He nodded and glanced at his wrapped up wrist, then down to the ground.

“Hospitals freak me out now,” he said. “I don’t like bugs. My body hurt and knowing I forgot to do something so simple put them in danger sucks. Knowing if she hadn’t come downstairs it might have been real bad sucks. If you hadn’t noticed I don’t know if I would have and it scares me not knowing.”

“Close your eyes for me,” you said. He shut them and took a deep breath, letting you take his hand and walk around to the back of the house. You spun him around a few times stopping him so he was facing the pool about twenty feet away. “Know where you are?”

“Somewhere in the middle of the backyard,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“You said not knowing scared you. Lots of times you don’t know. It’s kinda just how life works,” you said, dropping his hand and moving a few feet away. “Take a big step forward.”

“Y/N, I don’t like this,” he said, fidgeting his hand along the bottom of his shirt.

“I know you don’t. But would I hurt you?”

“No,” he said.

“So listen to me. Big step forward.” He took a step and you looked around. “Jump backwards.”

“What?”

“Jump backwards.” He frowned and took a small bunny hop back. “Again.”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Says the guy who plays pretend for a professional career. Now hop back and then step to the right,” you said. He groaned and did as asked. “Jog forward until I say stop.”

“Are you trying to kill me out here cause I feel like I’m about to break my neck slipping in the pool.”

“I’m trying to get your anxiety out in a non-life threatening way, okay?”

“By having me jump around the backyard like an idiot.”

“By having you get comfortable with the fact that most of life is spent not knowing and you can’t change that fact. You can’t see it all coming.”

He threw his head back but kept his eyes shut. He stared to run towards you and you wrapped your arms around him when he got there, Jensen peeling them open slowly.

“See? I wasn’t gonna let anything bad happen,” you said. He nodded and rested his forehead on your shoulder, pulling you into a squeezing hug. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry for being short and not doing what the doctor asked,” he said.

“Hey, it’s alright. I got scared too last night. Everything is fixed now so no need to worry over it. Why don’t you take a nap and maybe we have a real quiet lazy day while Dee’s parents got the kids for the day,” you said. “Sound fun?”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take quiet today.”

Three hours later Jensen was curled up with a blanket, his head resting in your lap as you watched a movie together. You played with his hair, Jensen turning into the touch every so often.

“I know you’re worried about me,” he said. He turned and faced up at you, your fingers swirling in his strands. “I know I’m kinda clingy today which I’m normally not.”

“You can cling all you want, honey,” you said, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I wish life would give you a break for a second. No work, no badness. Just some peace and quiet for you.”

“My parents lived here after the accident. For a few months. They were here, Jared and Gen were over every day, my siblings would stop down every week. The first few months I understood. I had an injury I had to recover from. But I felt like a child those few months once I recovered. Everyone taking care of the kids, of me. I was barely a father to them. Playtime. A story at bed. Someone else made most of their meals, did everything for them.”

“You’re a father but you’re still someone’s child,” you said. He blinked and you shrugged. “You were hurt, possibly the worst out of anyone. I know taking care of everyone else is your default but people get to take care of you too. I get to take care of you.”

“I feel like all I do is get taken care of by you,” he said. “I never give it back.”

“You’ve given me a family again. You take care of me every single day.”

“I never see you getting upset. It’s always me. I’m always the fuck up,” he said. You slumped down and took a deep breath.

“I get upset Jensen. I got upset that very first time we fought, that night with the ice cream. I got upset when you got jealous of that nanny in Canada and we saw my father the first time. I got upset telling you the truth of it all because you of all people don’t need problems like that dumped at your feet. I got upset when we saw him again because I was scared and I was scared he might hurt you too. I got upset when we fought when you got home and I got upset when you proposed because you were so scared and I get upset Jensen. I get upset when you’re hurt. I get upset when I hurt. But I don’t have all those safety nets under me that you do, remember? I just got a couple right now and you’re my last resort. I’ve been my own support system for so long that I can’t undo that all overnight. I know it’s been months but the fact I even let you see me cry, the fact I can even talk about this stuff with you and know all you’re thinking about is how to make me feel better...I still need to heal too. You’ve done so much already. I’m gonna have my moments where this is switched, believe me. But today’s not my turn for that, it’s yours.”

“I love you,” he said, staring up with the softest green eyes you’d ever seen on him yet. “Even more than five minutes ago if that’s possible.”

“I love you,” you said, bending down and kissing him. “You’re the expert on the falling in love stuff though so I’ll leave that up to you.”

“It’s very...it’s what you think it is and it’s not at all what you think. There’s falling and nerves and then calm and then falling and calm and you spend the rest of your life doing that. It’s not magic and it takes work to keep it alive sometimes but all you gotta do is talk. Just talk and it always seems to work out for me,” he said.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked. He nodded and smiled as you went back to playing with his hair.

“You know I really like when you do that,” he said.

“I know you do. It relaxes you,” you said.

“Makes me feel safe too,” he said. “But what’s your secret cause eventually I’m gonna want to know them all.”

“I was very attracted to you when we met. But that kinda freaked me out a bit. I found myself liking you a lot that first day I was here. You got me a birthday cake. I realized how kind you are that night. It wasn’t for anyone’s benefit other than my own. I had a crush on you, even though I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“I had a crush on you from when you made me a cup of coffee. You’re so good and kind yourself,” he said. He reached up and cupped your cheek. “I’m really happy you had your mom eventually. I would have liked to have met her.”

“Maybe she and Dee are hanging out wherever they are.”

“I hope so. She won’t mind sharing me with you,” he said.

“You honestly think so?”

“You gonna mind sharing me with her?” he asked.

“I’ve always shared you. Just hope that wouldn’t bother her.”

“I used to think maybe it would but no, she wants me to be happy and that’s you so you got all eternity to get to know each other eventually if you think about it.”

“Well when you put it that way we got nothing to worry about,” you said.

“Oh don’t worry about that. I think your mom was right. I get to have two people is all, kinda like she did,” he said.

“She would have liked you. Would have said you’re a little old for me but she would have liked you.”

“Wasn’t she older than Ray?” he asked.

“Yeah. She was. She was only fifty,” you said.

“You grew up too fast,” he said quietly.

“Maybe. But it got me here and I don’t think I would have done anything different. I wouldn’t want to screw that up. Well I’d do one thing different.”

“What?”

“Drop by this house, have a conversation with a certain someone.”

“Say hypothetically you had that ability, you’d really do that knowing what you’re giving up?”

“I’d give her back to you right this second if I could.”

“I appreciate that, really,” he said. He let his hand fall down and reach around your back, curling around your waist. “But she’s not more important than you are. I miss her. Everyday. But I lose one of you either way in that scenario. And I can’t choose. I’ll never be able to. If she were here and you weren’t, I’d still be just like this. It’d still hurt.”

“Make me a promise. I keel over early, you try again. Try for both of us.”

“I will if you will,” he said. He held up his pinky finger and you grabbed it with yours. “But he can’t be hotter than me.”

“Equally as hot?”

“Slightly less hot but that’s my final offer,” he said.

“Eh, fine,” you said. “You’ve worn me down.”

“Always words I want to hear,” he chuckled. You slid further down the couch until you were practically laying back, your arms wrapping around him. He got up and lay down with you on the wrap around side of the couch, pulling you into his chest. “Can I take you to dinner tonight? Just us.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Okay, honey,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just thanks. For what you said. What you did earlier, just being with me,” he said.

“Lucky for you I like being with you a whole lot,” you said.

“Very lucky for me,” he said. “Very lucky indeed.”

______

A/N: Read Part 11 here!

#supernatural #tell me a story bingo #SPN #jensen ackles au #jensen x reader #jensen acklees #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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plumoh · 4 years ago

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[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

#matchablossom #joecherry #matcha blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #kaoru is like 'i know i have feelings but i'm making the decision of not seeing them'#i'm fascinated by his change from punk high schooler to stoic adult #i also have more thoughts about kaoru+calligraphy relationship that i'll eventually write down #when i have the time o(-(

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elleonmybeloved · 4 years ago

Text

Fondly Dreamed

TERA (The Exiled Realm of Arborea) | Gen/Multi Words: 12,721 Chapter 2 Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024796/chapters/74517459

Summary: The titans Arun and Shara dream of a world they call Arborea. Arborea was never a peaceful world, but it was always beautiful and full of magical creatures. When one of their first and most powerful creations turned on them, they banished him to the underworld, Agaia. But the barrier between worlds is weakening, and corruption is beginning to invade Arborea, unmaking it's very essence and turning the world into a wasteland of Argon blue. Lest their sleeping forms and their precious world be destroyed, the sleeping titans dream of brave, strong heroes who can go against the very gods, and banish the corruption once and for all, before it is too late.

Yeriss dreams of glory in a world full of meaningless death. Sahlin dreams of freedom. Elleon dreams of acceptance. Jelena dreams of a world of smiles and laughter instead of blood and tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving with more care than she usually does, Yeriss balances a bowl of moongourd and noruk stew in one hand and a mug of apple cider in the other as she takes a seat on a flat looking stump next to one of the tents that are farther away from the campfire. Normally, she’d want to sit with her friends and chat during the rare time they have to socialize and have fun, but some kobold-brained idiot threw a painted scrap of wood in the fire and it’s stinking up the whole area around it. That, and Winra has been a real pain in the ass recently and she’s just not in the mood for her constant competitive quips. Especially since Sein seems to always take her side.

It’s been a week and a half since she first arrived. She’s pleased with how much she’s been contributing, but for some reason they only ever succeed to drive the monsters back for a day or two. Then suddenly there’s twice as many of them, and they lose the ground they won just as fast as they gained it.

Zoning out as she chews her food, it’s a minute before she realizes that she’s listening to a conversation coming faintly from the tent nearby.

“Another two gravely injured today.”

“Are the priests making any progress on their condition?”

“They’re trying their best, but we’ve run out of mana potions. The next shipment won’t be for some time.”

“Well that’s not good news. But slow healing is better than nothing. We need those soldiers back in the gorge as soon as possible.”

Yeriss recognizes the first voice as Tribune Adria, having been accustomed to hearing it at all hours of the day. The second one she’s not sure, but it’s a man’s voice.

“It’s like the supply of monsters is endless. It’s getting harder to keep them contained. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone is making them.” Adria complains, exasperatedly.

“It’s an island, the only thing past the gorge is a cliff and miles of sea water.” The man refutes. “But I know what you mean. Clearly there’s a source we don’t know about.”

“What if we sent a team to investigate? There’s one part of the island we’ve never been able to lay eyes on. A small group could sneak through, see what’s there.”

“That means getting past the hydraths. Who would we send? There’s only a few veterans among the soldiers who can even handle one. Sending anybody else would be a death sentence.”

“What about the squad that encountered one on accident the other day and survived?” Adria suggests.

“Oh right. From what I’ve heard, one of their group was stunned and couldn’t run, so their slayer uh... Yerenica, managed to take it down by herself.”

Yeriss perks up at the mention of herself, setting down her spoon. Invited along for the super important secret mission? Sounds like exactly where she wants to be. She smiles into her stew.

“Alright so her, Davina, Adrastus, Perrin, Jorhon…” Adria counts off. “Who else?”

“It’s a shame Leander refuses to help with anything other than his research until Elleon is found.” The man says with a sigh. “He’s the most experienced sorcerer on this island.”

“I wouldn’t risk asking him.” Adria replies in a cautionary tone. “Just yesterday I heard that he found one of Elleon’s twin swords, all muddied up with demonic magic. He was happy to get a clue after all this time but considering how foreboding of a sign it was, you can imagine the kind of mood he’s in.”

“Ugh, Goddess Velik have mercy… let’s assign one of the researchers working on the shields to help him. Jairus can complain all he wants, it’s about time we made progress on something. I swear, at this point it’s almost like Elleon doesn’t want to be found.”

“I won’t deny thinking we should just pack up and leave this island. What does Commander Seir even want with it anyway?”

“Oh he didn’t tell you?” Yeriss realizes then that Adria must be speaking to Consul Dougal, since he’s the only one who’d know Commander Seir’s plans. “Once we’ve cleared the whole thing top to bottom, he wants to set up a pegasus route and turn it into a private Federation training spot for all the brand new recruits. Private, defensible, and strictly regulated on who gets in and out. Away from prying eyes.”

“Really? I suppose more than half the island is beautiful and serene with plenty of open space and soft grass.”

“If you ask me, it’s not worth the effort.” Dougal says. “Especially with the Mysterium cracking down on us for entry. Not sure who leaked the info, but once they heard about the island and the World Tree, they demanded to be allowed entry to study it as soon as the island is safe for non-combatants.”

“Don’t let the poporian recruits hear that.” Adria says. “They’ve been quite protective of that tree.”

“That so? Honestly I’m kind of surprised they recognize it as a real tree.” Dougal remarks. “It certainly doesn’t look like one.”

Yeriss listens a bit longer, but they don’t say much else before Adria leaves the tent. She doesn’t look back and see her, instead making a beeline for the food table down the hill. Relatable.

Finishing the last, somewhat cold bites of her own meal, Yeriss springs up and takes her dishes over to the collection area with a pep in her step. It’s really nice to see that her abilities have been noticed by her higher ups. She’s got a feeling she and that group will find something that finally brings some changes to this island.

~~~

It’s not a surprise when instead of gathering with her squad the next morning, Tribune Adria is outside her tent waiting for her.

“I’ve got a special job for you, Yerenica. You interested?”

“Does it involve using my sword, or using a broom and dustpan?” Yeriss asks cheekily, remembering that she’s not supposed to already know about the mission. “Because that changes my answer.”

“Definitely your sword. Though if you were a witch like Sorcha, maybe you’d be using one of those other things.” Adria says, gesturing at her to come with her. “Let’s go, I’ll debrief you in the war tent.”

The war tent is a big red thing, with heavy fabric curtains and a large Valkyon Federation symbol made of metal atop it. Important people like Vene, Aide to the Vanarch, Consul Dougal, Tribune Adria, Leander, and Jairus are the only ones she sees regularly using it. When Adria holds the heavy curtain aside to allow Yeriss entry, she can’t help the pleased smile that pulls at her lips. This is where she’s meant to be.

Inside, Consul Dougal stands behind a table covered in maps. To his left, stands a group of other soldiers she recognizes from around the island.

“Welcome. As you know, despite our continued siege on the gorge, the monsters easily replenish their numbers. It’s more than likely that they are coming from somewhere, which is what we need to find out. Our researchers have pin-pointed the source of the corruptive mana somewhere in the southeast of the gorge.” Dougal pauses briefly. “Past the hydraths. You all are here because at some point or another, you’ve managed to prove your own in battle against one. We need you to get past them and investigate the source of the corruption and report back.”

“Ideally, you won’t have to fight the hydraths.” Adria adds. “Best case scenario: you sneak past them without being noticed. We have a general idea of what you should be looking for, but I’ll let Volis here explain the details on that.”

At her gesture, a high elf man carrying a tall staff steps forward from the group of soldiers. “This entire island is covered in unique magic that seems to emanate from the World Tree. It is the source of it’s thriving nature and the reason so many fey have come to life here.” He begins.

“It is also the reason why the corruptive dark mana present in the Tainted Gorge is able to twist the fey into monsters so easily. I, and the others researching this have managed to extract a core full of this dark mana from a corrupted sporewalker found in the Timeless Woods. Channeling energy into it with my staff should allow me to lead you in the direction of the source of the corruption.”

Volis pauses for a moment, considering. “The researchers and I are not sure if the source is an artifact, or a being, or several beings. Regardless, the magnitude of dark mana being produced and at such a rate suggests either something big, or perhaps the presence of many beings capable of summoning dark magic. It’s too painful to withstand the energy long enough to study it to be sure. Therefore, investigating it directly is unfortunately necessary.”

With a polite nod, he steps back, having finished his remarks.

“Once you find the source of the corruption, destroy it, if you can.” Adria says. “If it’s too dangerous, don’t do anything rash and just report back so that we can organize a charge with more forces.”

“Through the hydrath’s territory?” Yeriss asks. She’s surprised that they would put the regular forces up against something so dangerous. When it comes to hydraths, strength in numbers helps little, unless you know what you’re doing. “Wouldn’t there be casualties?”

“It’s almost certain.” Adria replies reluctantly. “But it’s the only way to destroy the corruption on the Island for good. We’ve expended more resources than we should have already.”

That’s not encouraging to hear. Yeriss vows that she won’t let it come to that anyways.

After answering some of the other soldiers' questions, everyone kits up, and Dougal and Adria are ready to send the group of soldiers on their way.

“Goddess Velik go with you.” Their tone is grave, like they expect the worst.

As her fellow soldiers reply in various versions of determined “Victory for Valkyon”s, all Yeriss feels is excitement. Instead of the usual path to Arun Heights, Yeriss finally gets to go down the other path to the east this time. Wild and seldom walked, the natural foliage of the island encroaches on the path.

It’s pretty at first, but the further south they go, the grayer and coarser the plant life. Unlike Arun Heights hill, the path to the hydrath’s territory is a much more gradual downward slope.

When they come upon the old bridge that leads across the ravine to the gorge, Yeriss doesn’t need Volis’s warning to know that there are hydraths ahead. Several of them line the path on the other side of the bridge, and unlike the other metallic-grey ones she’s seen, these are a striking deep shade of onyx. With two of the three shields that protect the Federation’s territory on the island behind them, only a single layer of magic holds back the palpable corruption.

“In order to get past though without being seen, we’ll have to go through that brush on the side of the hill there.” Jorhon, the older looking human man with a large battle axe strapped to his back says, pointing at it. “Nothing else looks thick enough.”

The tallest members of their group are Perrin, the high elf lancer, and Volis. Both light-skinned and two differing shades of blonde, they present the highest risk of being seen. Yeriss on the other hand, has nothing to worry about. Her red-tinted skin and dark horns blend in well with the thorny, corrupted brush and sparse trees.

“I’ll wait for the nearest one to turn it’s back before I bring down the shield.” Volis says as he lifts his staff.

Yeriss sees he intends to lift the stone up with magic, and back down for only a brief moment.

“I am not certain but it’s likely that if we can sense the dark energy in these monsters, they too could sense the clean, uncorrupted feeling of our own. We must be swift in breaking for the bushes, lest we are seen. Are we ready?”

Yeriss looks to the members of her group, who all nod in tandem. “Do it.”

“Go!”

At Volis’s cry, the group takes off across the bridge. The rotting old wood is thick, but noisy, and though she is light on her feet the sound of their haste is audible. It’s but a few seconds later that they hurtle into the brush for cover. As they catch their breath and cast worried glances out towards the hydraths, they are relieved to see they made it undetected.

“It’s like I always say.” Adrastus, the other lancer, a castanic like her, quips. “Keep your eyes on your opponents and your feet moving at all times.”

Davina cracks a smile at this. “I’m pretty sure not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard you say that to every new recruit that sets foot on this island.” Her twin daggers snip quietly as she cuts a path through errant twigs for them to walk through.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Adrastus says when they’re about halfway through. “Look at that.”

He’s pointing somewhere ahead of them. Past three onyx hydraths, floating about as they do, is an archway made of a dark pink-red stone. Short horizontal spikes poke out from the outside of the arch starting halfway up. The bottom half of each side sports a sconce in which a burning torch burns. A strange pink and gray orb of energy floats above the archway. Behind it, the entrance to a large cave.

The corrupted sporewalker core at the top of Volis’s staff starts to pulse and glow the same color as the orb above the archway.

“The source of the corruption…” Volis murmurs quietly. “It must be inside that cave.”

“This is strange.” Jorhon remarks. “Those archways are too well crafted and delicately engraved to be made by the hands of any of the large monsters we’ve observed here. Could it be that the corruption of the fey is not a coincidence, but intentional?”

“You mean there’s other humanoid races on the island apart from the Federation?” Davina says slowly. “That’s not good.”

“We’ve seen no evidence of any other intelligent races on the island, though.” Perrin refutes. “How could there be? Perhaps it is an older relic, like the World Tree.”

The sinister spikes of the archway look nothing remotely like the World Tree. But the confusion of trying to make ends of the situation before them swirls around them like the tepid air. Yeriss can’t think of anything either. That stuff has never been her strong suit.

“So… let’s get a closer look and find out.” She says, not seeing the point in further speculating.

“Alright.” Adrastus lifts a leg to stretch his quadricep in anticipation of another run. “We’ll have to be fast to get past those hydraths, I say we rac-.”

“Wait.” Jorhon cuts in. “It’s too risky. If we’re seen, we’ll be in for a fight with three of them at the least, and all the ones we saw on the way at most. And there’s no guarantee there aren’t even more of them waiting inside the cave.”

“There’s a large boulder over there we could hide behind.” Volis points to the right of the cave. “I could cloak our presence, but only for a time. The dark energy here depletes my mana reserves.”

Perrin and Jorhon look to each other, and then to Volis.

“A risky wager, but the Federation needs this information. We shouldn’t give up the chance to destroy the source of the corruption until all other options have been exhausted.” Perrin says.

“Very well.” Jorhon acquiesces.

Volis’s staff hums with energy as he casts the spell. As soon as the distortion settles around them, they run out of the foliage for the cover of the boulder. Adrastus is first to duck behind the rock, Yeriss hot on his heels. Sprinting headlong across the dirt, Perrin, Jorhon, and Volis are but five strides away, with Davina a short distance behind them due to her much smaller gait.

Suddenly, Volis goes pale. With a flicker, the distortive veil spell lifts off the group. The three men just barely make it behind the rock before being seen.

Unmistakable screeching, and a sound like an allemantheian power generator being turned on break the silence. Clearly aware of having been seen, Davina stands frozen in spot, mind whirling. Realizing that she can’t let the hydrath know of the others’ location, she whispers“ Go on without me” and gives them a brief, reassuring smile. Then she whirls on her feet, running to the side to draw it away from them. Unable to risk looking out in front of the rock, all the information they get is the fading sound of the hydrath’s low hum and it’s hissing metallic snake heads.

“Shit.” Adrastus curses.

“My deepest apologies.” Volis sounds distraught, words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “The dark mana was stronger than I anticipated-”

“It’s not your fault Volis.” Jorhon interrupts him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We knew this was risky.”

“...” Volis doesn’t look like this comforts him, his features are twisted into an expression of guilt.

“What shall we do now?” Perrin asks. “It is unlikely we will be able to assist her without alerting the rest of the hydraths. If we do so, it will be impossible to get back to this point.”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Adrastus asks incredulously. “We go back through the brush and try to find her without getting seen, forget the mission.”

Yeriss blinks. “Forget the mission? No! We can’t give up now, we haven’t even found the true source of the corruption yet. We’d be going back completely empty handed.”

“That’s better than going back without Davina!” Adrastus shoots back. “Don’t you know who she is?”

“Huh?”

“She’s the younger sister of one of Consul Dougal’s best friends!”

Yeriss doesn’t see the issue, but the reminder apparently affects the rest of the group deeply, each face suddenly drawn. No way. They’re really going to stop when they’re less than twenty meters away? The entrance to the cave is right there!

“Didn’t he and Adria pick each of us specifically because we’d proven our ability to go one on one with a hydrath before? Didn’t Davina herself just say for us to go on ahead without her? The Federation needs this Island!” Yeriss insists impatiently.

It must be because they don’t know, she thinks, that the Federation doesn’t have long to secure and claim the island before the Mysterium starts bearing down on them. And everyone knows once the Mysterium gets its hands on a site they want to research, it’s too late to do anything to disturb the area. Not to mention build a training base on it.

“Perrin?” Yeriss turns to him, hoping for back-up due to his earlier comment. Perrin is silent. “Volis?”

The answer on the high elf’s face is clear. Yeriss can’t believe this. “No way. You know how bad the corruption is.” She reminds him. “We need to at least find it so that you and the researchers can come up with a way to destroy it, right?”

“...Davina getting seen was my own mistake.” Volis says, guilt overtaking his expression. “I must go see it rectified.”

Clearly unanimous in their decision, Yeriss tries one last ditch attempt to convince them. “How about we kill these two hydraths and then try to signal her? You can do that with your magic, can’t you Volis?”

The group actually considers this for a moment.

“That would mean taking on two of them at once, while down one of us. I wouldn’t bet on those odds.” Perrin says slowly.

No wonder he carries such a big shield. Coward. Has he really taken one down on his own before?

“I’ve killed one before and I can do it again.” Yeriss says firmly. “Don’t worry. This is what we’re here to do, Perrin.”

“What about Davina?”

“She’s not the type to lie is she?” From what Yeriss knows of the younger castanic, she’s kind and honest to a fault. Rare qualities for one of her kind. “She can handle herself.”

“No. Unlike normal hydraths, these onyx ones are brutal.” Jorhon says, with a tone of finality. “I witnessed them take down a whole squad of soldiers during the first expedition. We’re going to save Davina before it’s too late.”

This is ridiculous! A veteran from the First Expedition, and he’s afraid of two measly monsters that they outnumber more than two to one! Frustration boils up inside her at his commanding tone. It’s as if he is in charge, and she is just a rookie. She’s earned her place here more than any of these pigling-nerved cowards.

“You’ll be going without me then.”

“What?” Adrastus’s grey eyes bug wide like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t like going back with nothing to show either, but come on Yerenica, it’s too dangerous on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of a few hydraths. And I won’t need to, if you come with me.”

“Enough of this.” Jorhon says dismissively. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Yeriss is shocked. “Who made you the leader? Can’t you at least consider my plan?”

“The longer we delay, the more likely it could be too late to help Davina. Let’s go.”

This time, Volis is meticulously careful with his spell, and the group makes it back into the brush without complication. But as they all flicker back into sight, Yeriss reappears across from them, still behind the boulder. Jorhon’s eyes bore into hers, willing her to come. She stares right back, unintimidated. After a moment’s hesitation, they leave, creeping along the foliage on the very edge of it this time, in the direction Davina went.

When they are gone, a bit of doubt swirls in her chest. Should she have done that? She hadn’t meant to lose her temper… Jorhon’s authoritative tone echoes in her mind, and anger replaces the doubt. The way he’d spoken to her… Yeriss seethes. Enough caring what everyone else thought. If he was going to treat her like an underling, she’d just have to prove that she wasn’t one.

Yeriss risks a peek out from behind the boulder to assess the current situation. The two hydraths are still there. She could take them out, like she suggested earlier. But now that she’s alone, she’s got another option.

Picking up a loose bit of rock from the bottom of the boulder, she rears back and launches it over the top of the rock as far away from her as possible. It strikes something in the distance. Once she hears the hovering hum sound of the hydrath’s movement fade, she makes for the cave entrance. It’s easy, and she’s not being pursued at all. With a last bound she makes it inside, and darkness swallows her up almost immediately.

Yeriss steps further inside. Squinting her eyes at the drastic change in light, she waits impatiently for her eyes to adjust.

“It’s darker than Poporia after Karas cursed it in here.” She mutters.

Eventually giving up on waiting, she just walks sideways until she hits the wall, and then places a hand against it to follow it. Quickly, the level ground slopes downward. It would be bad if she were to trip, but the ground is surprisingly free of the kind of rocks and debris you’d expect in a cave, instead having the consistency of a well-walked path.

A ways ahead of her are glowing torch lights. To her surprise, it sounds like there are people ahead. How could anyone have possibly gotten here before her? Rushing forward to get a closer look, she sees people who look very much like her, but... a foot or two taller with much bigger horns. Devas! They all wear a similar style of garb: pointy red linmetal armor with a motif on the chest like a plant with three branches sticking out straight on each side and atop it, a horizontal eye surrounded by a diamond. Her relief that they are not federation recruits who beat her here is short-lived.

I feel like I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before… but regardless, the Deva relentlessly worship evil gods. Could they be the source of the corruption?

“Lord Kugai,” One of them says as they take a knee to another. “We chased the elf through the catacombs, but he was too fast. He managed to destroy all of the mana potions in the cache we stole. What shall I tell our sorcerers?”

“Take heart, my friend. Our trials are many but Lok watches over us and will commend us for our efforts when he returns. Encourage them to continue channeling Karascha’s energy into the Divine Tree for as long as they can. Our sources within the Federation tell us that supply ships are to arrive within the week, or perhaps even sooner in light of their continued defeat to our pets in the Gorge.”

Yeriss stiffens. Sources within the Federation? The very idea of a traitor in the Federation is almost unthinkable.

“Will mana potions be among the supplies?” The devan subordinate asks.

“It’s almost certain. There are many gravely wounded among their number and there’s no doubt their priests are struggling to keep up.” The devan lord, Kugai, clasps his hands together. “Unlike Lakan, Lok will not forsake us. See to it that the sorcerers maintain their spell.”

“Yes, my lord. But what about the elf?”

“Hmm… he cannot stay hidden forever. Like us, he will need food and water. We will deal with him when he next reveals himself.”

“Surely it would be faster to hunt him down. I could assemble a task force-”

“No. Every available member of our fold must remain guarding the sorcerers. Karascha is strong enough to hold his own, but should we lose our connection to the World Tree, our resurrection ritual will be interrupted.”

“As you wish, sir. I will go notify them that the potions they expected will be delayed.”

Despite her knowledge that they are in fact of the same race, hearing this cult’s ridiculous intentions to revive Lok , the god who tricked them into killing Balder, whose demonic remains literally corrupt the lands of Essenia still to this day makes Yeriss angry. Like a stain that refuses to wash out, Devas have always been a smear on all castanics’ reputations. Stuff like this is why everyone assumes you’re up to no good if you’ve got horns and red skin. As if suffering the scalding pain of getting her markings as a teen wasn’t enough of a punishment.

Yeriss grits her teeth and grips the handle of her greatsword. Including Lord Kugai, there’s maybe fifteen of them in the room.

Launching herself out the shadows, she swings her sword hard across the turned backs of the three cultists nearest her. The loud clang of her sword against their armor alerts the others, and with a shocked pause they watch as the other cultists collapse to the ground dead. A large dent in the armor of their lower backs reveals the blow that shattered their spines.

“Intruder!” Belatedly, the others shout and draw their weapons.

Deflecting the hasty blow of a greataxe, she quickly reverses and catches their side and shoulder in an upward sweep. Most of them are using typical devan twin curved blades, and with a great thrust she skewers through several before they can get near enough to cut at her.

“You, go alert the others, we need reinforcements!” Lord Kugai commands one of the cultists at his side.

Unwilling to be overwhelmed in such an enclosed space, Yeriss uses her sword to vault her up over the wall of enemies in front of her and uses the force of her leap to bring her sword down hard on the retreating back of the cultist. The devan screams out in surprise and collapses to her knees. Yeriss brings her sword back up just in time to block Lord Kugai’s blade, and stumbles back a step from the force of it. Pain rattles up her arms.

“Nice try.” She bites, before slamming him back. Before she can take advantage of his vulnerability, there’s someone beside her raising their axe in rage. There’s not much space to fully roll out of the way, so as she comes up out of the roll she brings her sword up in a left to right sweeping motion, catching the cultists across it as her blade travels sideways, making space. Several of them slam against the cave wall.

While slashing in front of her to drive back three cultists trying to rush her with stabbing thrusts, she notices a retreating horned form disappearing down the tunnel. Damned cultists. Her moment of distraction costs her a cut to her upper arm and two across her shoulder.

The three of them that are left, and Kugai, advance towards her. Kugai comes straight at her while the others break off to the side. Not allowing herself to be completely surrounded, she thrusts as hard as she can into the cultist to her right, before swinging around her blade, using their body as a buffer between her and Kugai.

Holding her greatsword out lengthwise in front of her warningly, she addresses Kugai directly. “Tell them to stop this ritual, or I’ll strike you down! How many real people will you sacrifice to resurrect an evil god better off dead?”

Reinforcements arrive then, what must be twenty more armed cultists sealing off the tunnel exits. Yeriss doesn’t budge.

“Not a chance!” Kugai spits back, emboldened by the return of favorable odds. “How dare you call our lord evil? Lok may have killed Balder, but it was a tragic accident. He was tricked by Ishara! All Lok’s life, he was a force for good, and a beloved child of Karas and Elinu just as Balder was!” Kugai yells, and lunges at her. “He will free us just like he did the amani from their chains!”

Yeriss dodges one blade and deflects the other, but the movement drives her too close to two others behind her. One knocks her greatsword from her grip while the other binds her to them in a crushing grasp.

“As one of our kind, you should share his burden! We endure this pain for him!” The cultist behind her, a woman, hisses into her ear as she struggles to escape her grip, only bloodying her elbow as it meets hard plating instead of flesh as she throws a jab behind her. “You will make an excellent servant for our lord as a hydrath. You and that blighted elf. Be honored!”

“Indeed. A most fitting arrangement.” Lord Kugai seems to like this idea, sheathing one twin blade. He reaches out to pry her armor away from her stomach, and Yeriss suddenly realizes how hydraths are made. He intends to sever her at the waist! Yeriss squirms harder, but to no avail.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree. I don’t much like the idea of living life half upside down with a woman I hardly know.” A new voice breaks through the excited bloodthirsty silence of the cultists. Kugai relinquishes his grip on her armor and whirls around to look for the source.

“Though I’m sure you’re excellent company, my reckless friend,” The voice continues, “Not many a sense of humor survives a demonic ritual.”

Everyone turns to face the tunnel on their right, where a tall high elf man stands on top of the fallen bodies of the four guarding it. Behind him several others are slumped lifeless against the wall.

Taking advantage of their surprise, Yeriss grips the arms of her captor hard, hanging all her weight on them before she swings her lower body forward and kicks Kugai hard in the side. The shift in her weight causes her captor to drop her, and Yeriss rolls to her side on the floor where her greatsword fell, picking it up as she leaps to her feet.

“It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be a part of any demonic rituals then.” She calls back to her helper. This must be the elf they mentioned sabotaging their potions. His dirtied silver armor somehow glints brightly in the dim light. “But I’m great company for crashing one. Or ten.”

“What great news. I just joined the market for such a person. There’s a really ugly one going on-'' He pauses to block a blow from one of the greataxe-wielding cultists, then dispatches the devan man with a double bladed stab that he rips outward in both directions. “-Not too far from here.”

That must be the source of the corruption! It’s a relief she doesn’t have to look for it without Volis’s guidance.

“Count me in.” Yeriss smacks her blade across several enemies in a great knockdown strike, sending them rolling like bowling balls. Another cultist tries to get in close, but her quick reflexes have them skewered on her sword first. “That’s exactly what I came here for.”

Reinforcements already more than halved, Kugai seems to notice that his people are losing this battle. He turns to retreat to the tunnel, but Yeriss is already flinging herself across the room, landing on his back in a tumbling tackle.

“Not so fast, mister holy worshipper. What happened to being willing to sacrifice yourself for your precious Lok?” She taunts, struggling to keep the large devan man pinned. In the corner of her eye she notices the high elf man send the last two cultists crumpling to the ground. “I’ll spare you if you tell us how to stop the corruption.”

“No need, my reckless friend.” The elf says, coming up on her side. “I already know. There’s a large, evil demon made from Lok’s demonic remains further down in this cave. Kill it, and we kill off their corrupting source.”

“Hah! Kill it? You’ll never manage to kill Karascha. Even if you could, you wouldn’t get past the shield to our sorcerers. Death will only release the rest of his corruptive essence all at once.” Kugai bites out, and Yeriss grips him by the horns to push his face in the dirt where it belongs. “It’s only a matter of time before we take over the divine essence left in the World Tree. Lok will live again!”

Choosing to believe the elf over the desperate cultist, she brings her greatsword down through the back of his chest, silencing Kugai for good. After the devan chokes out his last breath, Yeriss stands up and dusts herself off. A large circular object rolls out of the dead cultist lord’s hand - a metallic thing the size of a compass, with the same diamond eye symbol they all wear on it. Yeriss takes it for herself. War trophy.

“So.” The high elf man’s gaze flickers from her face down to the federation crest on her neck. “‘Yerenica.’ Congratulations on officially being the first Federation soldier to make it down here in weeks. At all, actually. Why are you by yourself?”

The question throws Yeriss off guard. For a second, she doubts her decision to press on alone. But no, she was right in coming here. The Federation needs this island, and nobody back at base even has a clue that there were Lokian Cultists here. The high elf probably just thinks the rest of her squad died or something.

“Because I’m the only one on my squad who Kaia gave any balls, apparently.” She says boldly, meeting his curious gaze. “What about you?” She turns the question back on him, pointedly looking at his armor, distinctly lacking in an identifying badge.

After all, upon closer examination, he doesn’t look like a Federation soldier. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, although some high elves do have a naturally gray pallor to their skin. Certainly handsome, but there’s no mistaking those dark circles. It’s almost like eye shadow.

“Ah, right. I forgot to include myself in that count, eh? I’m not really a soldier but I am part of the Valkyon Federation, rest assured. My name is Elleon.”

Yeriss’s eyes bug. Elleon? The Elleon Kubel, argon war hero and missing leader of the First Expedition? All of a sudden the gray pallor of his skin seems more like silver, and the gold of his eyes shinier.

“Did you know your brother is looking for you?” Is all she can think to say.

Elleon raises a brow. “Leander is here? That didn’t take long. Why isn’t he with you, then?”

“Actually, Dougal and Adria did ask him to come along on our mission, but he refused to do anything not directly related to finding you as quickly as possible. He’s been here looking for almost two weeks already. The second best sorcerer on the island had to come in his stead.”

Elleon blinks. “Ah. All of a sudden the wind of Zenobia is beneath my feet. Let us make haste to the demon’s lair, my friend.” He’s already moving by the time he finishes talking, not even throwing a glance over his shoulder to confirm his words.

Yeriss bounds after him, pausing to grab a torch off a wall sconce, and follows Elleon’s lead through the tunnels. They pass many banners sporting the red diamond eye of Lok, and crates marked with the federation crest. Stolen, no doubt. Eventually the cave opens up into a wide underground cavern. High above them is a large pink orb of energy, like the one outside the cave. Strange arched windows filled with colorful stained glass adorn each wall of the cave, like some kind of underground church. Something large shifts in the shadows, and moves into sight.

“It’s a vulcan.” Yeriss remarks with a surprised whisper as she takes in Karascha’s form. “But purple. And with wings.”

“You say that like you’ve seen one before.”

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of experience taking these down. They’re supposed to be green, though.”

“Hmm.” Elleon muses. “Now that you mention it, the color is remarkably similar to the cursed remains of Lok south of Tria in the Blighted Wood, eh?”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve never been to Shara… what’s that behind it?” Yeriss asks, looking at the large arched doorway behind the demon. Instead of a door, a magic barrier shimmers across an invisible surface, veiling whatever is in the room on the other side.

“The core of the World Tree, and all of Kugai’s precious sorcerers. Perhaps fourty in number. Karascha sends his essence through the barrier and they channel it into the core, corrupting it. It is a delicate process.” Elleon smirks. “Kugai was quite confident despite knowing this. Killing the demon will release massive energy, true. But their sorcerers are tired and all but drained of mana. This is the perfect time for us to strike to kill.”

“Great! What are we waiting for?” Yeriss sets the torch down and unsheathes her greatsword. Before she can charge into the cavern, Elleon outstretches a hand in front of her, blocking her path.

“Not so fast, my reckless friend. You should know this is not some mindless beast. Be wary of Karascha’s curses- try to prevent him from casting them, if you can.”

Before Yeriss can ask what he means, a deep two-timbre voice booms through the cavern. “So, the meddling elf is back for another beating. I see you’ve brought a friend with you this time. Hah!” The demon’s laughter grates like gravel. “You should’ve brought an army.”

A large stone collides with the tunnel wall beside them. The two of them instinctively dodge out the way of the flying debris, sending them further into the room.

Recovering from her shock of a vulcan talking, Yeriss rises up and races towards Karascha, sword high.

“He doesn’t need an army. He’s got me.” She says with a grin, dodging the demon’s fist as it pummels the ground behind her, and slashes the demon across the chest. Karascha steps back from the blow, and Elleon is behind him ready, raking his blades down the demon’s back. Roaring, the demon suddenly extends his wings and swipes in front of him at the same time, sending the two of them flying.

Yeriss gasps as her back hits the wall painfully. Elleon tumbles backward to a rough stop. But with a shared look, they are up again, moving in sync as they approach the demon. This time Yeriss stabs for the heart, but Karascha dodges and her greatsword instead screeches across the metal plate guarding the demon’s neck, throwing up sparks. Dark red, almost black blood bursts from Karascha’s shoulder as the tip of one of Elleon’s blades appears through the flesh.

Karascha shakes like a dog, trying to dislodge the elf from his back. Yeriss plunges her greatsword through the other shoulder. Before she can try to drive her blade downward, a huge hand suddenly grasps her face. She hears a muffled outcry of pain from Elleon, but can’t see what happened to him.

Letting go of her sword, she struggles to escape the crushing grip that digs into the back of her head, feeling warm blood trickle down her neck from where the claws of the beast pierce her skin. It’s not working, but Yeriss has horns. Instead of trying to get out of the grip, she takes both hands and forces it down hard on her head, impaling the demon’s hand on her horns.

Suddenly she is free, and she falls to her knees to gasp for air. Dizzily scrambling to her feet, she closes in again, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the demon’s non-injured hand to grasp her greatsword -still embedded in Karascha’s shoulder- and yanks downwards as hard as she can. Karascha screams out in pain, a noise that rattles Yeriss’s ears. Unable to help it, she hastily pulls out her greatsword and gets away from the loud sound. As she backs away, Elleon steps up behind her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. He’s limping slightly, and she sees blood staining the silver armor of his right leg.

“Pests that don’t understand anything and get in the way should just die!” Karascha yells, and then begins chanting in a demonic language. Yeriss can’t distinguish the sounds well, but he seems to repeat something that sounds like Haargwahrosh . The long claws that are attached to his glove begin to glow an eerie blue, siphoning energy from the pink ball hovering high in the air above the arch.

Behind her, Elleon stiffens. “Not good. We must stop him, or we’ll suffer.”

Karascha is chanting Ganiir-bolohosh now. Lacking inspiration on how else to shut him up, Yeriss leans back and chucks her greatsword, blade-first, right at Karascha’s face. By luck, and some decent aim, her sword slips through the grate of his face plate. She can’t see what damage she’s done, but the demon’s dark blood pools and seeps through the face plate to splatter on the ground. Stunned into silence, it takes Karascha a moment to react.

In the most ginger manner a demon can have, it extricates her blade from it’s face and tosses it aside, the metal clanging against the stone floor of the cave. Before she can react, Karascha slams his fist on the ground in front of her, shattering the stone and sending her flying towards the stained glass window. Yeriss crashes into the window, breaking the glass and sending shards flying. Nothing is behind the window but the hard stone of the wall, and her body bounces off it and she slides down to crumple on the ground, leaving a trail of blood in her wake where the shards of glass have embedded in her back past her zalisleather armor.

Though the wounds aren’t deep, the collision knocked the air out of her. For a minute all she can do is kneel and try to breathe. Karascha gives a sadistic laugh of pleasure, and makes to close in. Before he can take so much as a step, Elleon is sailing through the air and slashing both swords through the demon’s wings. There is a heavy thump as they slump uselessly to the ground. The ruined stumps of Karascha’s wings give a twitch as he shakes in dismay. Before Yeriss can blink, the demon is reaching behind him, snatching up the elf, and throwing him to the ground.

Already scrambling up off her knees, she sees Elleon’s attempt to push himself up fail as his injured leg gives. Karascha’s claws glint in the darkness as he rears back.

“No, stop!” She yells, desperately launching herself in between the two.

Just barely catching the blow, Karascha’s claws, intended for Elleon, collide with the flat of her blade instead. Yeriss stumbles back a couple steps. Unwilling to be thwarted, the demon continues to press back against her sword. In moments, her arm begins to tremble, and sweat rolls down the back of her neck, stinging the small wounds there. Her stance was hasty, and her footing doesn’t lend her much strength. But letting go means the death of her new friend, so she won’t.

Bending her knees and shifting her feet as much as she can, she stabilizes herself and renews the strength of her push. Behind her, Elleon grunts as he shakes off his daze and tries to get up, but his wounded leg gives under him and he stumbles back down.

Locking eyes with the gleam of the demon’s own beyond it’s daunting faceplate, Yeriss realizes the beast’s strain mirrors her own. The blood he loses will continue to weaken him. In seconds, she will win. As if also realizing this, Karascha suddenly begins his chant again in haste.

“Haargwahrosh, haargwahrosh, ganiir-bolohosh, ganiir-bolohosh-”

“No no no, shut up you son of an orcan!” She struggles to move against the stalemate, knowing she has to silence him before he can-

“Yeprasiabalolosh!”

There’s a brief moment of quiet dread, and then across her body, a quiet heat begins to grow. Uncomfortable quickly grows to terrible, sizzling heat all over her stomach, arms, legs, and back. Pressing her lips together she struggles not to loosen her grip, unable to stop a whimper as reflexive tears start to drip down her face. She’s only ever felt pain like this in her life once before. After she finished her Crucible. A pained grunt behind her confirms her companion’s own suffering.

“Stupid little thing. You dared to defy Lok and his servants with his very mark upon you.” The demon laughs wetly. “It amplifies the pain of my curse two-fold.”

“Ngh… aaargh!” Yeriss bites down her screams, refusing to give the demon any additional satisfaction. “Don’t be... so smug when... you can’t even win a fair fight!” She trembles all over, but stubbornly refuses to let go, holding her blade fast against the demon’s claws.

Suddenly, Karascha stumbles to the side and her greatsword slides free as the demon’s claws leave the interlock. Her first thought is that he succumbed to his wounds, but then she sees a fresh deep gash across the demon’s legs. Elleon is crouched to the side of them, blood dripping off his twin swords, and she realizes that he must have rolled between them to land the blow. Genius.

Wasting no time in pressing their advantage, Yeriss uses all her willpower to ignore the pain that courses through her body like a livewire and whacks the demon hard with the flat of her greatsword, sending him tumbling. When he’s on the ground she leaps up and drives her blade straight down. Karascha’s armor does nothing to deflect such a direct hit, and she pierces the demon through the heart. The curse dies with him.

Shuddering with relief as her markings stop burning, she watches the last twitch of the demon’s death throes. When Karascha is finally still, she straightens up and turns to Elleon.

“It’s dead.” She announces matter-of-factly.

Elleon blinks and gives a breathless laugh as he gingerly rises to his feet. “Are you sure? Better poke it a few times in case it’s just playing, eh?”

“It’s not a city garbage rat.” Yeriss says, but taps the demon’s face plate with the tip of her greatsword a couple times. “Yep, definitely dea-”

Before she can finish, there’s a boom as the pink orb explodes overhead, and in the room ahead. Elleon flinches and assumes an instinctive combat stance, but all that happens is a brief rain of particles of magic as they fall and dissipate around them.

Relaxing, Elleon re-sheathes his swords. “Ah. Now it is dead.”

“What was that?”

“Just as I expected, Kugai told no lie that killing Karascha would release all his demonic energy at once. And just as I expected, his sorcerers would be too drained and too few to contain the blast. We should go check to make sure, however.”

Yeriss nods and jumps down off Karascha. They approach the arched doorway. It still shimmers with energy, but turns a different color when they get near it. Hands resting on their weapons, they step in.

~~~

Materializing on the other side of the barrier as they cross through, Yeriss sees that Elleon was right in his prediction. The bodies of the devan sorcerers lay collapsed around the great roots of the tree. Not only was Karascha’s energy too much for them to contain, in its potency, it killed them. It’s a relief. Tired and wounded from the fight with Karascha, it would have been a pain in the ass to fight a bunch of pissed off cultist sorcerers. She would’ve done it of course, gladly, but there would have been complaints afterward. Many complaints.

One last moving devan sorcerer, a woman, crawls feebly towards the rapidly fading light of Karascha’s energy as it drains from the root of the tree.

“No… no…” She sobs weekly. Her breathing is harsh and labored, each breath a great wheeze. When she sees the two of them, her expression contorts into grief. “How could you? We were finally going to be-” She breaks off with a wheezing cough. “Free!”

“Zuras, Balder, Lakan, every living creature from Arun to Shara… have forsaken us. Slaughtered us.” She sounds so bitter, Yeriss feels a pang of guilt. “ I just wanted to live in peace with my son. I thought…”

For several moments the woman is silent and still, and for a second Yeriss thinks she is dead. But when she steps tentatively closer, she sees the woman’s lip trembling as she gazes at something fallen on the ground in front of her. It’s an open locket with a bundle of brown hair, just like the woman’s own. With a final breath, the woman’s gaze hazes over and she slumps against the ground.

Wow. Yeriss takes in a deep shaky breath, not having expected that at all. Processing what she just witnessed, it takes her a minute to realize that Elleon is looking at her strangely. Feeling the burning of his gaze, she feels pressured to say… something.

“I won’t lie. My kind have it rough, and in the past it was much worse.” She raises her chin and meets his eyes. “But resurrecting a demon god? I know that would have only brought more evil and pain to this world. I’m proud of what we did.”

“Good.” Elleon’s gaze goes distant for a moment, as though being reminded of something. “It is one thing to do evil. To be evil is another. It’s... a shame that some are driven to such extremes by circumstance.”

“Did that happen to someone close to you?” She guesses tentatively, from the tone of his voice.

“Me? No. I was thinking of the traitor within the Federation, actually. I am lucky to say I fully trust those closest to me never to betray me, no matter how dire the circumstances.”

“Oh right!” Yeriss recalls the vassal’s earlier words to Kugai. She’d forgotten about it in the chaos. She kneels on the ground to take a closer look at the fallen sorcerer closest to her. “They said ‘ sources within the Federation .’ Could there really be a traitor so high up they’d know about the top secret Island?”

“Yes. I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but being here confirmed them. It seems even being chosen to lead the First Expedition was planned as a way to get rid of me.” Elleon says as he rips some fabric off his cape to bandage his leg with, sitting down on the floor to do so. “I’ve had the chance to overhear a great many things while hiding out in the tunnels.”

“Did you find out who it is, then?” Yeriss asks.

“Unfortunately, no. I have my own guess as to who it could be, but without evidence it’s impossible to be sure.” Elleon exhales irritatedly in a way that suggests there wasn’t a shortage of searching for search evidence on his part.

Yeriss frowns and casts a glance over at the core of the tree, which despite the recent demonic interference now seems as serene as nature can be. “Well that sucks.”

She meant to approach the plinth in the front of the room to hope some answer would magically pop out of the tree itself, but as she stands her world suddenly careens and shifts dizzily.

“Woah.” She says, stumbling backward into the root behind her.

“Yerenica!” Elleon looks at her in concern, already half standing to come to her aid. “Have you been injured badly?”

Yeriss hastily waves him off. “Nah, I’m fine. Just stood too fast.” The majority of her wounds are bruises, but now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, the pieces of glass in her back are starting to sting.

“I see. Hmm.”

“What?” She asks defensively. It’s true, it’s really not that bad. His leg wound is without a doubt worse than any of hers, and she didn’t even get to see the extent of it.

“Though the source of the corruption is gone, there will still be hydraths between us and the tower base camp. We’ll need to move quickly.” Elleon suddenly rises and begins weaving between the bodies, searching them for something.

“What are you-”

“I personally saw to it that their supply of mana potions was destroyed. But I’m willing to bet we can find someone with a health potion. No reason not to give ourselves the best chance at being present for our own victory speech, eh?”

That has her imagining the look of begrudging respect even prideful Winra and stuffy Sein will have on their faces when she comes back with the news that she not only found the source of the corruption, but destroyed it, along with the rest of the cultists that had been living right under the Federation’s nose. And found the missing Elleon, to put the cherry on top of the sugar cake. Suddenly she can’t wait to be out of here and back at camp. The smile that parts her lips is wide, and she pushes off the root to join her friend in his search.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll search this half.”

For the next few minutes they crouch by the bodies of the fallen cultists, checking pockets and satchels.

Plenty of keys, coins, and other personal effects later, Yeriss has yet to find a health potion. From Elleon’s silence, he hasn’t either. Unclipping another satchel from a cultist’s belt loop, she flips up the leather flap. But when she reaches in, instead of glass, she feels paper.

Curiously, she takes it out and unfolds it. It’s probably just trash.

At the top of the paper, something is written in what looks like castanic, but not quite. Must be deva. The two languages are really similar, so she can read almost all of it, and the rest she can easily guess. It says:

My loyal friend, and fellow devotee to our Lord, your complaints have not fallen on deaf ears. Your goals and my goals are the same. The reason I have failed to return some of your number in haste as you requested was not due to my own wishes, but rather those of our benefactor. I know you grow weary of my own words, so have a look for yourself. -Kugai

Below it is a letter, written in neat, bold human.

Lord Kugai,

I heard of the complications your group are experiencing with the task I asked of you. I fully understand the importance of your efforts regarding the tree. Surely your sorcerers are not so incompetent that you cannot spare even half a dozen to hunt him down and finish him. How hard is it to kill a single, lone man in your own territory? I’ve received your request for more supplies. A supply ship is making its way to the Island and should arrive within a few days. The potions will be within the crate that I’ve had marked with the usual symbol. I hope my faith in our alliance is still warranted. I expect to receive the good news that you finally put the Federation’s dog down for good. Don’t expect any additional supplies until you do.

-B

No way. “Um, Elleon?” She calls, not looking up from the paper.

“Hm? What is it? Have you found something?”

“I think… the evidence you’ve been looking for.” Yeriss says slowly. It was one thing to come to know of the traitor in general. But to see that it was the truth, solidly presented in ink and parchment was another thing entirely. The Valkyon Federation was huge, and had amassed great power from the alliance of several of the most advanced societies in Arborea. A traitor, especially one high enough up in the ranks to know of the Island of Dawn and the specific people and supplies present on the expeditions, was a devastating thought.

Elleon is by her side in moments. “Let me see.”

Yeriss readily hands him the paper.

“Ah. Devan.” He remarks. “Can you read it?”

“Yeah, of course. It says...” After explaining the contents of the cultist’s addition to the letter, Yeriss steps back as Elleon reads the rest. His gray lips press together the more he reads, but when he’s finished they quirk up into a smirk.

“Excellent work.” He says, sounding pleased. “This confirms many things. I’m sure Dougal will agree.”

“Consul Dougal knows about the traitor?”

“Indeed. He was the first to have suspicions, actually, and shared them with me.” Elleon stoops down and plucks something up off the ground by the cultist’s other hip. “Aha. You missed something, my reckless friend.”

A vermillion health potion sloshes in the small glass vial between his gloved fingers.

“Hey! I would have found it. Right away, if I hadn’t been busy finding your much-needed evidence. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Elleon laughs at her affronted tone. “I’m teasing you, Yerenica.”

“Oh. ...” The way his gold eyes sparkle with mischief in the dim light makes her feel strange. Breaking eye contact, she instead impatiently gestures at the vial. “Hurry up and drink some already and let’s head back.”

“Ladies first.” Elleon says, holding it out to her. Yeriss raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t budge.

“People with serious leg injuries first.”

He takes it back without protest and uncorks the vial, taking a couple mouthfuls. He hands it back to her, halfway full, and watches her quietly as she presses the glass to her lips and finishes the rest. The cloying taste of crimson essence is unpleasant as ever, but the relief she feels as the rapidly healing wounds in her back push out the glass shards that land with little clink-clink s on the floor is palpable. She’d need more to heal her bruises, but there are priests back at camp that can help her with that. For now, she’s all set to make a victory dash back to base.

The cover of night makes the run back through hydrath territory a breeze compared to her earlier foray with company. Elleon is quick - extremely quick, in fact. So much so that she loses sight of him in the brush, following the path Davina cut through it earlier back down. He’s waiting for her by the bridge by the time she arrives.

Kaia’s flaming sword, the barrier! She completely forgot about it. But before she can even open her mouth to ask what they should do, Elleon leans back and launches his sword through the air. With knife sharp precision, it wedges itself between the source stone and it’s bed, lifting it up just high enough to deactivate the shield. Genius, again. She hadn’t even thought to use the way it only barricaded living things, not material, to get by.

They make haste across the bridge, and Elleon removes his sword from beneath the stone in a fluid motion as he passes by, not even having to stop to do so. It’s not long before they encounter some of the Federation’s guards patrolling the area, and with a surprised shout as they are recognized, one of them breaks off the group and accompanies them back to camp.

~~~

A kind pair of priests -an older human woman and a gentle demeanored baraka- tend to Yeriss and Elleon’s wounds as they sit around the quietly crackling fire in Dougal’s personal tent. As smoke spirals out of the opening in the canvas roof up to the stars, Dougal himself leans forward in his chair with concern as they begin to report.

“As much as you know I appreciate your speed, you two, I wouldn’t have minded if you had taken some time to recover first.” Dougal gives the plate full of tiny red-tinted glass fragments the priest had extricated from Yeriss’s back a glance. “In fact, I really would’ve preferred it.”

“You know I don’t like to waste time.” Elleon says with a shrug, but gives the man an appreciative look for his consideration. One of his silver boots lays on its side by his chair, but despite being bare from his toes to his knee one on leg, he still manages to have distinct poise.

Yeriss nods in agreement with Elleon’s sentiment.

Dougal raises an eyebrow, but shakes his head and rests his hands on his knees. “Alright, since you insist. Let’s start off with you, Yerenica. I heard from Jorhon that you stayed behind to finish the mission while they went to help Davina.”

Yeriss stiffens. Uh oh. Dougal had put it quite nicely just then, but she had her doubts that he was using the same words Jorhon had. Not when she had disagreed so blatantly with the rest of the group. “Ah, yes sir. Um, were they able to reach and help Davina?”

“Yes. Actually, she had already managed to take down the Hydrath pursuing her by the time they caught up to her.” Dougal makes a fond expression. “I have to say I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that. She’s very much like her sister in that aspect.”

Elleon makes a very quiet sound. Or coughs, she can’t quite tell.

“Oh, I see.” Yeriss is confused. Where’s the lecture she was anticipating?

“Unfortunately, they had to compromise their cover to chase after her, so at that point they were being pursued by quite a few of the hydraths. They had no choice but to retreat back to the base. Being so close on the other side of the barrier meant I couldn’t send any reinforcements in after you, I’m sorry.” Dougal looks sincerely contrite about this, and Yeriss is shocked. She was expecting to get chewed out, not apologized to.

“It’s- okay.” She says quickly, a bit uncomfortable. “I’m just glad she was alright after all... Anyways, I managed to get inside the cave undetected. It wasn’t long before I came upon a large group of people hiding out in them. Devas from the cult of Lok. So then I-”

Yeriss relays the events of the past few hours, and Elleon fills in the blanks of her account with his own side of things on occasion. By the time they are done, Dougal looks both shocked, impressed, and pleased at the same time.

“The cult of Lok… to think, this whole time they were on the Island with us and we had no clue.” Dougal muses as he thumbs the token with Lok’s symbol Yeriss had taken from Kugai. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he hands it back to her. “Well, more than job well done you two. Now that the source of the corruption is gone, I can assemble a decisive force and get rid of all the remaining monsters on the Island push by push. I’ll have a group go investigate the caves and make sure they’re clear. For now, you’ve earned some rest. I can’t imagine taking on a demon that powerful was easy.”

“Actually, Dougal… there’s something else.” Elleon says, catching his eye, and then looking pointedly at the priests.

“Ah.” Dougal turns to address the healers. “It seems these two are in much better shape, thank you for your efforts. If there’s nothing else, you can go.” He says in a kind, but clear dismissal.

They both nod and take their leave. Once they are gone, Dougal temples his fingers and raises his eyebrows at the man across him. “What is it?”

“We found some correspondence between their leader and someone inside the Federation that confirms someone was working with them behind our lines. I have no doubt it’s the same person responsible for the other suspicious events we discussed.” Elleon hands him the paper they found.

Before reading it, Dougal exchanges a look with him, glancing almost imperceptibly in her direction. If she didn’t just witness his methods in silent communication, she would’ve completely missed the discreet question he just asked Elleon without even saying a word.

“Yerenica already knows about the situation.” Elleon says quickly. “I told her about our additional suspicions. At a certain point down there I likely would’ve been quite dead if not for her. You can trust her.”

Dougal nods, readily accepting this. “Sorry Yerenica, just had to be sure. This is a uh, delicate situation, as you might imagine. We’re trying to keep as tight a lid on it as possible. Alright, let’s have a look at this.”

Dougal unfolds the paper and holds it out in front of him as he reads.

To her surprise, Dougal doesn’t ask about the devan. It’s not uncommon for a man of his position to be able to read the languages of multiple races, but he doesn’t give off the impression of the scholarly type.

“Someone who knew the personnel of the expeditions as well as interfere with the expedition supplies at some point, at least once, to apply the identifying mark, and to move them from the camp on the Island to a place the cultists could retrieve without being detected.” Dougal says to himself, thinking it through. “Huh… could be… someone high up certainly, but there’s only a handful of us with this level of clearance. But no, couldn’t be. More likely it’s someone who could access one of our confidential reports perhaps. An assistant?”

“Once received, you burn those. How could that be possible?” Elleon doesn’t seem to agree with him.

“None of us are infallible. Someone could’ve forgotten to do it, or been called away to discuss an emergency. I can think of plenty of situations.” At Elleon’s silence, Dougal frowns. “The only ones who could access this information are myself, Seir, Gislan, Samael, Fraya, Eyhian, Loana, Kanmur, or Ukenul. I highly doubt any of them could manage such an alliance without our notice.”

Elleon nods hesitantly.

“I hate to say it, but we need more evidence.” Dougal states reluctantly. “This is a great start though, when previously all we had were suspicions. Once we get more information we can figure out who this “B” is.”

“I think we should be cautious not to rule anyone out too early, lest our own bias cause us to miss something right under our-”

The opening to the tent flaps out harshly and Elleon’s mouth snaps shut as they all turn in their seat to face the doorway. Standing there, hands crossed tightly across his mostly bare chest, is none other than Leander himself. Looking none too pleased.

Dougal coughs awkwardly. “Leander. Uh, come in, make yourself at home.”

Leander takes a few steps forward and then resumes his previous posture. “All that time and effort searching for you like a needle in a haystack, and somehow I’m not the first to know when you’re found, brother.”

Elleon doesn’t react negatively at all to his brother’s irate tone. In fact, his eyes light up as he takes in the form of the blond man. “Is that my missing blade I see on your back Leander? Did you know that you’re my favorite brother?”

“I’m your only brother.” Leander says, rolling his eyes. But his expression softens as he catches sight of the bloody scrap of black cape-turned bandage laying loosely around Elleon’s ankle. “You’ll be pleased to know it contains none of the corrupted mana I found it inundated with. Are you alright?”

“Fine. My wounds have been healed, just haven’t had a chance yet to wash the blood off.”

“I see. Well. I don’t suppose you have some time for us to speak in private.” Leander asks, dropping his gaze.

“Of course.” Elleon quickly re-dons his boot. “Dougal?”

“We can speak more on the issue later. Go ahead.”

With a parting nod to Dougal, then Yeriss, Elleon stands and follows Leander out.

“Now that we’re alone,” Dougal begins. “I have an offer for you, Yeriss.”

At the sound of her real name, Yeriss freezes up. But before her blood has even started going cold in her veins, Dougal is patting placatively at the air.

“Relax, relax, you’re not in trouble.”

Yeriss stops holding her breath, but gives him a wary glance. “...I’m not?”

“No, I promise.”

“You knew this whole time?”

“Yeah. The day after we arrived some of Mahera’s crew asked me what to do with some crates full of badges and papers. I realized we forgot to unload them while we were at the docks in Velika. Knowing every soldier under my command is impossible, but I always make an effort to remember those that have given up their lives, to make sure their personal effects get returned to their families.” Dougal explains. “I have them written down in a log. So when there was one missing, it wasn’t hard to figure out who. Afterward I asked Mahera about it, and she explained what happened to me.”

Traitor! All that money and treasure wasn’t enough to prevent her from ratting her out?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Dougal shakes his head. “Hey, don’t feel bad. She was actually quite tight-lipped at first, and didn’t end up answering me until I pressured her. Amani are quite big on honor, you know.”

Yeriss stops planning a future confrontational rant in her head.

“After that I had a friend in the Swords verify your identity, and kept an eye on you in case you were dangerous. All I saw was you managing to kill more monsters single-handedly in a week and a half than most of the people that arrived on the second expedition have in the whole time they’ve been here. If that wasn’t enough, you also just solved all my problems in one go, including finding Elleon. I’d be a fool to punish you for being the best thing that’s happened on this island since I got here.”

She has no idea what to say. “I was just trying to help.”

“Exactly. As I was saying, I have an offer for you.”

“Huh?”

“You are now one of the very few people who know about the traitor in the Federation. Reading that letter today made me realize that this could be bigger than I previously imagined. I need someone capable to help me investigate, discreetly. Now that I know Elleon has a target on his head, the help he can provide is limited.” Dougal sighs. “So here’s my offer: you become one of my operatives, but we make it look like you’re a regular new recruit so that whoever’s behind this letter doesn’t realize we knew each other prior and get suspicious. Half the work is already done for us, considering you went by a different name during your time here. I’ll send you wherever I find a lead, and you’ll investigate under the guise of acting as a regular soldier at your post. It’ll be dangerous, but with your abilities I’m sure you can handle it.”

Yeriss brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, flattered that someone so high up as the Consul thinks highly of her. But this offer is far from tempting. ‘New recruit’? ‘Regular soldier ’?

“...”

“So, what do you think?”

“I want to help you, Dougal. I’m just not the right person for this kind of job. Isn’t there some other way I can help?” She’s definitely not trying to get landed with some snooze post fighting small fry with the rest of the keeners, sneaking around. “When you find out who it is, you’ll have my sword at your side, I swear.”

“I know I’m asking a lot. Anyone who did what you just did would want accolades - and deserve them. Asking you to keep quiet about it is unfair, I admit that. Tell you what, if you help me find the traitor like this, afterward I’ll make sure everyone in Velika knows of all your valiant service.” Dougal pauses, as if considering something, and then gives her a conspiratorial wink. “You know, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for me to name the person who ended the corruption on the Island of Dawn and rooted out a traitor in our midst an official Valkyon Federation hero.”

“A-” Yeriss’s eyes widen. “A hero? Really! - No wait. You’re just… yanking Saleron’s chains, right?”

Dougal shakes his head with a smile.

Images of crowds of people calling her name with adoration on their lips, praise echoing through the city of wheels, and holos of her above Defiance Street in Castanica flood her mind. No stranger would ever look at her red skin and horns and disparage her again.

Pleasant shivers go up her spine.

“If you do decide to accept my offer, I have something else for you.” Dougal gets up out of his seat by the fire and reaches under a table for something.

Yeriss watches him curiously.

“You won’t be able to fulfill your full potential with that standard issue greatsword,” He starts, and when he stands back up she sees what’s in his hands. “Someone gave this to me a while ago, but I don’t use these. I think you could make much better use of it.”

It’s a greatsword. The maroon hemeleather handle is immaculately wrapped, and beautiful metalwork patterns start from the straight bronze cross-guard and flow down the middle of the fuller. The linmetal of the blade starts from a deep brown and transitions to silver in a slow gradient. From the craftsmanship alone she can tell this isn’t a twenty gold weapon.

“...Please don’t send me anywhere too boring. And I really can’t stand guard duty.” As she says it, she holds out her hand for the weapon.

Dougal throws his head back and laughs, a deep rich sound. Readily, he hands her the greatsword. Still chuckling.

“I’m also not really suited for deception, as you might have noticed.” Yeriss adds on, trying not to get annoyed at being laughed at. Not everyone can afford fancy swords.

Forcing himself to stop laughing with a little cough into his fist, Dougal clears his throat. “You won’t have to worry about that. I have someone who can help you.”

#tera #tera online #lore #longfic #lots of dougal in this chapter ;)#mild violence warning on this one for canon typical violence!#nothing gory but yknow this IS tera haha

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madelainesvixens · 6 years ago

Note

Sweetvee 41&61

I’ve been working on this one for four nights, I hope you like it, xx

Please continue to sent requests from this list of prompt!

41. “Who the hell do you think you are? My dad?”

61. “I’ve had enough.”

It was mid December when Veronica Lodge walked in the Whyte Wyrm looking, white snowflakes covering her black cape. She removed her hood and kicked the snow off her heeled boots. Her dark brown eyes scanned the bar, searching for a familiar blonde head but, she wasn’t present.

The raven haired girl sighed discouragingly. She had been searching for her best friend all night and the Wyrm was the last place on her list.

Where are you Betty?

“I think your chauffeur took the wrong direction.”

“Excuse me?”

“Northside is opposite way, Princess.”

Veronica turned around, catching sight of a very tall Serpent. “Sweet Pea,” she acknowledged.

“Mobster Princess.”

Usually, Veronica would’ve chuckled at the dark humor but, not tonight. Her night had been eventful and she didn’t have the heart for a laugh.

It took Sweet Pea one glance at the rich girl for him to catch on that something was up. He gave his cue stick to another Serpent and made his way over to her.

Sweet Pea wouldn’t call her a friend but she was definitely not a stranger. He had seen her before in the halls at school and at Jughead’s birthday party and always thought she was an uptight rich bitch that didn’t think farther than the tip of her nose. It was the vibe he got from her. His opinion changed when he found her crying in her fancy dress outside the school at Homecoming.

The reason of her tears: Archie Andrews.

That idiot had been making out with Valerie Brown backstage after his musical number and Kevin had caught them. Being the loyal friend he was, he immediately told Veronica about her boyfriend’s tongue jumping the fence.

Sweet Pea had sat with her on the cement stairs and let her cry on his shoulder, his unfinished cigarette crushed by his feet. He wasn’t good at comforting people and had no idea what to do but he couldn’t leave her by herself.

“Fuck him. It’s his loss if he want to trade a ten for a six.”

Later than night, they ended up hooking up in his trailer.

“Is everything okay?” Sweet Pea stood in front of her, raising a worried brow.

Veronica looked up and smiled tightly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Bullshit.”

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it. He already knew she was lying.

Eyes were on them as they stood in the middle of the Serpent bar. Her raven hair and the pearls around her neck gave her identity away. Or, maybe it was the fancy handbag resting in the crevice of her elbow.

Sweet Pea put a hand behind her lower back and led her to the bar, taking the attention away from them. “Want anything?” he asked her.

“The strongest you have.”

“We’ll take two shot of vodka and another beer,” he told Hog Eye.

The man nodded and poured their drinks, handing them to the young Serpent. Sweet Pea took the drinks in his hands and led Veronica to an empty table at the back of the bar. They sat down and Veronica immediately reached for the shot glass, downing its content without grimacing.

“What did Andrews do again?”

Veronica knitted her eyebrows. “How did you-”

“When is Andrews not the reason why you’re upset?”

“Thouché.”

“So,” Sweet Pea started, taking a sip of his beer. “What brought the mobster princess on snake territory?”

Chuckling, Veronica removed her cape coat, revealing a black top with an embellished collar. “It’s over. Archie and I. I came here in hope to find Betty but, clearly, she isn’t here.”

“Until when this time? Monday morning?” he joked, knowing Archie and Veronica always get back together despite their several breakups.

“No. I mean it this time. I’ve had enough. Archie is a boy, he’ll never change his juvenile attitude. We went on a movie date at the Bijou tonight and his phone went off during the movie. Moodkill, I know. I thought it was Jughead or his dad but no, it was a notification from Tinder. I almost let it slide because, maybe he had made a profile we were broken up and forgot to delete the app but then, I realized you don’t get notifications from people who swiped right unless you pay for the app. So, he’s still paying although we are dating. You’re probably thinking he’s done fucking up for the night but, listen closely, it gets worse. He opened the damn notification right there, in the middle of our date. This is totally unacceptable. I was furious.”

Out of all the shitty things Archie has done, checking Tinder during a date was probably the worse. It was beyond disrespectful toward Veronica - his girlfriend. To her, the betrayal hurt more than all the times he cheated on her behind her back. At least, then, she didn’t have to witness her boyfriend smiling at whatever that bitch on the other side was writing.

“Andrews really surpassed himself this time, uh.” Sweet Pea laughed at the Bulldog’s lack of brain, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he opened Tinder right in front of you. It’s like he’s silently saying you’re his side bitch.”

Talking about the beast, Veronica��s phone went off, Archie’s name flashing on the screen. She flipped the device over and ignored it. She tried to but, Archie didn’t get the hint and kept calling again and again which infuriated Veronica.

She sighed dramatically. “Oh my god, will he ever stop?”

“He might have orange hair, he’s not the brightest crayon of the box.”

Veronica stifled a laugh, smirk curving on the Serpent’s lips.

“This is it. He’s gonna have a taste of his own money.” She grabbed her phone and for a second, Sweet Pea though she was giving in and answering Archie’s call, she pulled it up in front of the Serpent. “Please, hold the pose,” she said, and snapped a picture, adding a cute filter and posting it on Instagram with the caption: ‘fun night with my new bae’, knowing Archie has her social medias notifications turned on. “Should’ve known not to mess with a Lodge.”

She knew Archie despised Serpents but, mostly their guard dog Sweet Pea. The two strong headed teenagers had gotten into quite a few fights together over the past year. Jughead had tried his best to keep the peace between the two clans but, he couldn’t do miracles. They even got souvenirs from their opponent. A scar below the eye for Sweet Pea and a chipped tooth for Archie. The rivalry between the two sides of town is nothing new but, ever since they merged the two schools together, both boys started a secret contest for the most powerful alpha and, needless to say, it didn’t impress anyone. If anything, it got them to spend more time together in detention.

“I bet if we go outside we’ll see him fuming from here.”

She watched as Sweet Pea took another sip of his beer, his shot of vodka still untouched in front of him. “Are you going to take it?” The Serpent hummed. “The shot.”

“I intended to, yes.”

“I’ll go get myself another round, then.”

The raven haired girl stood and headed to the bar to order more drinks. A minute later, she come back to she and Sweet Pea’s table with a crimson colored cosmo.

“I thought you were getting more shots?”

“It’s coming,” she replied with a fierce smile, glancing back at the bar.

Sweet Pea followed her gaze, seeing Hog Eye pouring what seemed to be tequila in several shot glasses which was much less forgiving than vodka. Both will get you drunk pretty fast; vodka will make dance on tables for a few minutes before ending with your head down the toilet while tequila will increase your bad decisions and you’ll wake up in the morning, having no clue what happened the night before.

“Not to pop your bubble but, I’m not drinking any more shots. I need to take my bike home.”

Hog Eye deposed the tray on their table and returned to the bar, flashing Sweet Pea a knowing look. The younger Serpent ignored it. He could bet his life that more than half the population of the Wyrm expected him to take Hiram Lodge’s daughter back to his trailer tonight. They’re all gonna be disappointed because it wasn’t on tonight’s agenda. He wouldn’t oppose to having sex with Veronica but, it wasn’t what she needed tonight. She needed someone to listen to her rants and change her mind from the ginger Judas that is Archie Andrews.

She shrugged, picking one shot glass and downing it before biting into a piece of lime. “More for me.”

“You’re not drinking all of this.”

Veronica scoffed. “Who the hell do you think you are? My dad?”

In true Sweet Pea fashion, he would’ve responded with a dirty comeback like: ’Not yet’ or ’No, but I can be your daddy if you want’ but, he didn’t.

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol isn’t the way to go. Been there, done that. You’ll feel like death tomorrow if you get shitfaced.”

Holding the Serpent’s gaze, Veronica tasted her cosmo. “Would you happen to have another solution to propose? I’m all ears,” she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she let her heeled boot crawling up Sweet Pea’s leg, stopping right by his crotch.

Sweet Pea hissed, grabbing hold of Veronica’s foot. “I wasn’t going to suggest it but…if that’s really what you want.” If she was looking for a rebound from Andrews, that was a role he’d willingly play. He had been looking for an occasion to bang her again ever since she left his bed the morning after Homecoming.

She grinned behind her drink, loving the grip the older boy had on her. One major thing she liked about sex with Sweet Pea was that he wasn’t afraid to be rough with her. Not too rough but just enough, something Archie was never willing to do.

Just like going down on her. The Bulldog was a selfish boy that clearly didn’t care enough about his partner to give her single pleasure.

Veronica wasn’t going to lie, the alcohol was starting to kick in, the mix of vodka and tequila feeling warm in her belly. She wasn’t drunk but, she had drank just enough to feel confident and sexy - more than usual.

“Shall we head out?” she asked, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Sweet Pea let go of Veronica’s foot and slide out of his seat, waiting for the raven haired girl to do the same. She put her cape back on and downed the rest of her cosmo. “Lead the way.”

#sweetvee #sweet vee #sweet pea x veronica #veronica x sweet pea #sweet vee prompts #sweet pea #veronica lodge #riverdale prompts

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splatteredfandoms523 · 7 years ago

Text

When Life Gives You Lemon Geraniums...

You decide that the weather is nice enough for you to finally go on that hike that you’ve been thinking about. You know your brothers don’t want you to go alone, but the woods aren’t that far away, so you get them to give in and let you have some space. They always seem to crowd you a lot. Sometimes, it’s just too much.

You arrive at the entryway of the forest, and you spot some curious looking violets on the ground. You see that once you enter the forest, the violets create a path for you to follow. You cautiously follow the path, keeping your phone at the ready, so you can summon your glitchy brother in an instant, if need be. But, as you follow the violets, more flowers are growing in patches amongst the trees that seem out of place yet still ever so beautiful.

You remain intrigued by the flowers and continue to follow the still ever-thickening path of violets until the trees open up into a bright little clearing. There’s flowers absolutely everywhere. You can’t believe your eyes as there’s a little log cabin in the middle of flowering bushes in the middle of the clearing. The colors of everything are so vivid that it almost hurts to look at, yet it’s all so beautiful that you can’t look away.

Curious, you head towards the little cabin in the clearing, and you cautiously knock on the door, phone in hand to send for help if needed. The door opens, and it’s someone a bit… smaller… than you anticipated. The small person standing in front of you is a little lady in a dress made of flower petals? You can’t seem to wrap your mind around how flower petals could be that big. She notices you looking at her, confused as can be, when she snaps you out of it, “Hey! How did you find this place? No one ever finds this place! No one ever sees the violets!”

You’re taken aback by this little lady, “Oh! Umm Hi there! I did see the violets! Did you plant all of these flowers? It’s so beautiful! I was just going for a nature walk when I saw your violets and found this place and just, Wow. This place is so amazing!”

The little lady looks at you as you look so amazed at her little clearing, “I see you, too, appreciate nature as I do. My name’s Violet, by the way. And yes, I did plant all of these flowers here. I planted them all here so I could nurture them and allow them to grow. That way their magical capabilities are even stronger than normal flowers.”

You are very intrigued as she continues to tell you about the Victorian Flower Language and how each and every flower tells its own story. You come in and sit with her in her little cabin as she leads you in and shows you her flowers in the world of magic.

--------

Marvin, your magical brother, reaches into his mental connection he made with you just before you left. You can’t feel the mental connection, but it allows him to know how far away you are in comparison to him. He sense where you are and his worry increases. He fidgets, restless, as he is constantly asked if he’s okay, when he’s clearly not. He keeps pushing everyone away as his mental connection with you grows weaker with distance.

He finally just loses it and screams, “SOMNO!”

Everyone falls asleep right then and there. Marvin normally doesn’t even use words to direct his magic as he is well practiced in his magic, but when he loses it with worry for you, he uses his words. He whispers, “Kinisi,” and appears right in front of you.

------

You’re talking to Violet as she tells you what it’s like to be a flower witch and how different flowers mean different things when Marvin shows up, a green glow emitting from his eyes. He’s very worried and very angry, “What are you doing here? Who even is this? Why did you wander so far away?”

You look a bit ashamed for not telling anyone what you were up to, but you were enjoying talking to Violet as she speaks up for you, “Who do you think you are, magic boy? I know magic when I see it, and even with that, that doesn’t give you the right to come appearing in my house looking like you’re gonna tear it apart. Seriously, calm down or get out!”

Marvin is surprised at Violet, “And just who are you? What are you doing to them? I could feel them getting farther and farther away from me when they got here. Something is off about this place. What kind of spells are you weaving here?”

Violet scoffs at this magical boy, “Well, nice to meet you too, magic boy. I’m Violet, this is my little cabin in the woods, and I wasn’t doing anything to them! As for spells I’m weaving, I would think you could see the flowers all around. They all tell the story of my spells, if only you know how to read them.”

Marvin looks out of her windows in awe, seeing the vivid colors of flowers surrounding everything, “You’re a flower witch. I never thought I’d ever meet anyone who used flowers to direct their stream of magic, yet you’ve done it fantastically. With all of these spells of protection, there would be no way but for someone who knows about magic, like they do because of me, would ever detect this place, let alone come here to hurt them.”

You watch the interaction happen between the two of them. Intrigued as Marvin calms down to stand in awe of the flowers surrounding the clearing and the cabin itself. Violet smiles warmly, knowing she got through to him, “So, does the magic boy have a name? I can tell that you have a great ability for magic, and I think I could help you just as much as you could help me.”

Marvin is surprised at himself as he tells her his name in his normal dramatic fashion, “My name is Marvin the Magnificent! But, you can call me Marvin! And I think there would be a lot to learn from nature, and with as in tune with nature as you are, I’d only assume that you wouldn’t know the kind of street magic that I do. But, I will admit that I’d love to learn how to direct my magic with nature at my fingertips!”

Violet laughs, “Of course! Street magic would never make its way in here unless someone like you were to show up, but I’m glad we agree that we can learn from each other.”

You smile and with how long you’ve been there, you yawn, grabbing Marvin’s attention, “Oh! I guess you’re a bit tired, aren’t you? Well, don’t you worry, I’ll take ya home and then I got some explaining to do to everyone else as they’re all probably waking up now.”

Marvin and picks you up bridal style, letting you lean into his chest as he looks as Violet apologetically, “I’m sorry, Violet, but I really should be getting home. I will come back soon though, and I’ll bring some tricks with me to show you! I can’t wait to see what little tricks you could teach me using flowers!”

Violet waves him off, “It’s alright, Marvin. It was nice meeting ya. I’ve never met anyone who’s appreciated my magic like you or them,” She gestures to you as you start to cuddle deeper into Marvin, “I mean, when they found my little place, they were in just as much awe as you were. We talked about our different kinds of magic and how they’re the same and different, too. I guess I just never thought anyone would find my little place here, or ever take an interest in my magic. So, thank you, both of you. You both are welcome back anytime.”

Marvin is just about to poof you both away as you get in your last word, “I look forward to seeing you again, Violet,” as you both appear in your room as Marvin notices you holding a flower. A lemon colored geranium. You smile up at Marvin, who looks confused, “An unexpected meeting. And that it was,” Marvin nods in agreement as he tucks you in bed.

----

Violet smiles as she watches you and Marvin disappear in a plume of green smoke. She knows how you noticed the lemon geranium she slipped into your hand. She could feel the magic drain just a tiny bit of energy from her. But, she’s never had any visitors before, let alone anyone who loved her flowers and magic as much as she does. So, she just goes outside and lies in her little clearing, watching the stars in the sky as she smiles about her unexpectedly pleasant meeting with you and that magical boy, Marvin.

@palm-top-tiger99 Thank you so so so much for helping me write this out! You’re so amazing!

@save-jacksepticeye @iamvegorott @jamesondaily I got some Violet and Marvin interaction and I love it so much! Thank you all so much for being here and reading what I post!!! Here’s to 35 followers!! This is so crazy!!!

#Violet the Flower Witch #My OC #Marvin the Magnificent #one shot

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mustdang-100 · 7 years ago

Text

Snowflakes & Such

This was my @mp100secretsanta2017 gift for @lovigal, who requested holiday-esque goodness with Serizawa, Ritsu & Mob. I’m reposting here so that there’s a version with a read-more. I hope you enjoy!!

“One last stop!” Serizawa said eagerly, eyes running down his neatly checked-off list of holiday cookie recipients. Reigen tried not to sigh with relief, brushing at the snowflakes that had settled on his coat and checking the heavy gray sky anxiously.

“Ah, good. If this stuff keeps falling we might have to worry about train delays.”

For the first holiday season in years in which Serizawa was neither trapped by the fear of his own powers nor a member of a terrorist organization, he’d apparently decided to fully embrace every festive tradition he could get his hands on. Last week he’d enlisted Mob in helping him decorate Spirits & Such with paper snowflakes of various geometric designs, dangling them from the ceiling tiles by paper clips stolen from Reigen’s desk. Serizawa had illuminated their artworks with ropes of tiny white lights that he strung through the office. And most recently, he’d flexed his burgeoning cooking skills and baked enough cookies to hand-deliver some to everyone he knew in Spice City.

Reigen had never been particularly interested in the holiday season before now, always regarding it with more annoyance than pleasure. Yet Serizawa’s joyous enthusiasm was infectious, and Reigen found himself offering to join the cookie-delivering spree just to continue basking in the glow of Serizawa’s delight.

However, Serizawa had made a surprising number of friends and acquaintances in the short amount of time since he’d left Claw; Reigen hadn’t realized quite how many houses they’d be visiting. Confronted with house after house of “Happy Holidays!” by strangers who welcomed Serizawa and then peered at him with polite uncertainty, Reigen was very ready to turn in for the day. The steadily-increasing snowfall made him all the more eager to return home to lonely but familiar solitude.

He peered over Serizawa’s burly shoulder, trying to see where they were going next.

“Who’s the lucky recipient of the last plate?”

“Kageyama-kun’s family!” Serizawa was practically buzzing with excitement. “I saved the best batch for them, they’re hardly burnt at all.”

Reigen brightened; finally, someone he knew. He picked up his pace, not only eager for the chance to see Mob, but also for the excuse to see him at home, double check that everything was going okay for him there. Reigen didn’t see Mob’s family very often, and Mob’s little brother in particular had always viewed him with suspicion. Reigen welcomed any opportunity to correct this impression.

An unpleasant thought struck him at this, and he glanced at Serizawa uneasily.

“Ah…crap. I probably should have brought something for them, too.”

Serizawa beamed. “Don’t worry Reigen-san; I put both our names on the gift tag!”

Reigen was taken aback, but squinted at the tag pasted to the red cellophane-wrapped paper plate. Sure enough, both their names were there in Serizawa’s clear, careful writing.

“Oh.” Words failed Reigen at the kindhearted gesture. “Thanks, Serizawa.”

Serizawa grinned wider, shaking the fresh snow from his curls. “No problem!”

They continued down the peaceful street in the direction of the Kageyama’s house, footsteps crunching in the snow. Fat flakes drifted all around them, muffling sound, blurring the landscape and lending it a strange sense of isolation, like they were the only two people in the world.

Reigen grinned at Serizawa, feeling suddenly a little giddy. “You ever catch snowflakes on your tongue as a kid?”

Serizawa’s eyes rounded. “No! I never spent much time outside, even as a kid. Other kids thought I was weird – I hid a lot.”

Reigen’s heart panged at that, but he froze the grin to his face, holding the pains of Serizawa’s past at bay and eager to help him make up for any lost time.

“You want to try it now?”

“Doesn’t that seem a little, you know, immature?”

“Serizawa, you spent two days last week doing arts and crafts to hang in the office.”

“That was to help bring in business!” Serizawa protested. “I heard customers love those kinds of gimmicks.”

“Ok, sure. Of course. Still, no one’s watching now, eh? No reason not to be a little silly? Here, I’ll try it first.” Reigen closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, waiting for the soft, cold sensation of a snowflake on his tongue.

Instead, a well-packed clump of snow smacked him square in the face.

Reigen rocked back at the impact, sputtering and choking at the snow that filled his eyes and mouth.

“What the–!?”

He swiped at his snow-covered face and glared out at his surroundings, searching for the culprit. Serizawa held a glove-clad hand clasped over his mouth in shock, but was clearly trying not to laugh. Reigen followed his line of sight, turning around just in time to see a spiky black head duck behind a mound of snow.

A second head poked up from another snow mound a few meters away, one sporting a very familiar bowl-cut that peeked out from under a woolen winter hat.

It seemed they had arrived at the Kageyama’s neighborhood.

“Ritsu, I don’t know if that was very nice. Shishou wasn’t expecting it.” Mob blinked, trying to free the snowflakes that clung to his lashes as he looked up at Reigen. “Hi Shishou, what are you doing here?”

Ritsu’s head slowly rose back up over the top of his own snow fort, just enough for his eyes to peek over. They regarded Reigen with a predatory gleam, and Reigen would have bet money that another snowball was being held out of sight just below. Reigen pasted on a smile and shuffled a bit closer to Serizawa, just in case.

“No, no, Mob. It’s fine,” he said, wiping the last of the snow from his face. “We just dropped by to bring your family some treats, didn’t mean to interrupt your epic snow battle.”

Serizawa stepped forward, clutching the cookie plate, looking back and forth between the two forts with eyes bright with interest.

“Were you having a snowball fight? Like on TV?”

Mob nodded, and tossed a snowball in demonstration. It flew about two meters before landing on the snow-covered lawn, breaking into pieces with a soft psh.

Mob contemplated the location it had fallen, as though trying to understand where he’d gone wrong. Ritsu finally abandoned his post and stood up straight behind his snow fort. He walked to his brother, squeezing a snowball between his hands as he packed it tighter.

“I told you Nii-san, I think you’ll do better if you aim high up. Then your snowballs will at least go farther.” Ritsu tossed his snowball up and towards their own house in demonstration. It flew high, traveling much farther than Mob’s had. Mob nodded seriously, taking his brother’s advice as absolute fact.

Reigen saw an opportunity, and jumped on it before he could second-guess himself.

“Ritsu’s right, Mob. Here, let me show you my special technique for throwing snowballs–”

Ritsu whipped toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, interesting. You want to try teaching my brother something else you know nothing about.”

“Hey, now,” Reigen said, hands flying up in a placating gesture. “I just think that, with my advanced knowledge of both natural and paranatural physics, I–”

Ritsu’s second snowball hit him in the face.

Reigen spluttered loudly and indignantly, but he didn’t miss the quickly-smothered guffaw from his left. He also saw, as soon as he’d cleared enough of the snow to see, a spark of humor in Mob’s face, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in weeks - not since Dimple’s abrupt and mysterious disappearance.

A new idea formed swiftly. Reigen wanted to encourage this light-hearted mood of Mob’s, and if Serizawa’s attitude towards holiday activities thus far proved anything, he would have an absolute blast having a snowball fight.

Reigen glared huffily down at Ritsu, who was looking smug.

“Oho, I see how it is. Young Ritsu, I do believe that was a challenge.” Reigen drew himself up to his full height. “What do you say–myself and Mob versus you and Serizawa for a snowball fight the likes of which you’ve never in your young life encountered? Unless, of course, you’re too timid?”

Fire flashed in Ritsu’s eyes. “I think that’s the most intelligent idea you’ve had yet, Reigen-san,” Ritsu said, too calmly. “Nii-san and I would love to participate.”

“Excellent. Um, and no psychic powers allowed,” Reigen added hastily, eyeing Ritsu’s expression. “With my skills, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.”

Mob wandered bemusedly to Reigen’s side, clearly keen to join whatever Ritsu wanted to do. However, Serizawa hesitated.

“Reigen-san, you’re sure this isn’t too childish? What if a prospective client sees?”

“Come now, Serizawa, snowball fights are winter holiday tradition!” Reigen said firmly. “We must defend our honor! And we can’t disappoint the boys, can we?”

“Oh,” Serizawa said, his expression clearing as he nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I will do my best, Reigen-san.”

***

Reigen had miscalculated.

“Run, Mob! Run!” Reigen panted, legs flying as fast as they would go as he pelted down the Kageyama’s street. Mob ran beside him, panting a little but otherwise seeming far less concerned than Reigen thought was warranted. Of course, that might be because the barrage of snowballs being flung their way all seemed to be aimed at him.

He chanced a quick look behind him. Ritsu was only a dozen or so meters back, Serizawa keeping pace right beside him. They both had snowballs in hand and equally-determined looks on their faces.

Serizawa’s enthusiasm plus Ritsu’s teenage vindictiveness were, it seemed, a devastating combination. A snowball hit the street with a more solid sound than Reigen thought a snowball had any right to make, barely missing his own churning feet.

“Serizawa, you know this suit isn’t meant for running!”

“Then stop running and defend your honor, Reigen-san!”

Reigen managed to dig up more speed.

The Kageyama’s house rose before them; at some point, they must have turned back around. As if on cue, Mrs. Kageyama opened the door just as he was racing up to it.

“Ah, hello!” Reigen huffed as he darted in close to the doorway, too close for Ritsu and Serizawa to risk the civilian casualty. Mob followed, and Serizawa and Ritsu joined them a few feet from the doorway, both looking pleased as punch, snowballs mysteriously vanished.

“We… just came… to drop off… some cookies!” Reigen continued, between breaths. Serizawa nodded earnestly, the picture of a generous visitor, as the plate of cookies dropped into his hands from the air above them. Mrs. Kageyama didn’t bat an eye, clearly accustomed to random psychic phenomena occurring in her house.

“Oh, how kind of you!” She smiled warmly at the group of them. “I know how much Shigeo looks up to you, Reigen-san, and Serizawa-san, he’s told us so much about you! I was just about to call the kids in for dinner, but there’s plenty if the two of you’d like to join us?”

“Oh! I, uh,” Reigen was at a loss for words for the second time that night at this offer. He found himself looking to Serizawa, whose broad grin had reappeared.

“We’d love to, thank you!” Serizawa said, taking Reigen’s look as an invitation to accept for the both of them.

Reigen found himself ushered in with the rest of the group, and before he knew it was seated at the kitchen table with the entire family. No probing looks on this visit; instead, Mrs. Kageyama cheerily questioned him about his business while Mr. Kageyama added more rice to his plate. Serizawa had managed to draw Mob into a conversation about his athletic club, complimenting him on his speed that day. Even Ritsu, who’d been studying his brother’s minutely-cheered expression, passed Reigen his silverware with something that was almost a smile.

Reigen started when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He twisted to see Serizawa offering him a chocolate-chip cookie, edges only a little too dark.

“Thanks for coming with me today, Reigen-san. I–I can’t express my gratitude enough, on top of how you’ve helped me, giving me a job, and helping me with school and with getting used to interacting with other people…Especially,” he swallowed uncertainly. “Especially since I got the feeling you didn’t care much for the holidays…”

“Oh…it’s no problem Serizawa! Happy to help, of course!” Reigen took the cookie, waving a hand airily as Serizawa beamed at him before turning back to rejoin his conversation with Mr. Kageyama. Reigen bit into the cookie, munching contemplatively. Not half bad, he thought, relaxing into the conversation and company, his concerns about the train schedule forgotten despite the snow softly piling up outside.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #secret santa #mp100 fanfiction #fluff #this was described to me as 'fluff with a hint of bitterness'#and i agree that's a good description #fanfiction #my fics #long post

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mp100secretsanta2017-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Snowflakes & Such

From: Mustdang (mustdang-100.tumblr.com)

To: Lovi (lovigal.tumblr.com)

Message: Hello and very happy holidays Lovi! Here is a gift fic for you; it was great fun to write and I hope you enjoy!