#I feel like you can tell I’ve been watching arcane cause I tried basing it off the style a teeny tiny bit
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
valeovalairs · 17 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Tried something a little different
120 notes · View notes
kravkalackin · 4 years ago
Text
“So, that’s what you’ve been up to all this time.” 
Barry’s voice was hard, colder than he was used to, but it wasn’t like he had many opportunities to use it nowadays. Even still, as angry as he was this wasn’t something he enjoyed. He told himself this was the best option he had though. That it was worth the risk of seeing her at all. 
If he could just convince Lucretia to put a stop to all of this, maybe they could start working towards actually fixing everything that’d been broken. 
“Barry, I don’t-” Lucretia started, clearly surprised by his presence. She wasn’t the only one who could track though, and after so long looking for the light and now Lup, he felt like he was pretty damn good at it. 
“The new moon. I gotta say not what I was expecting. Remember when we used to all think you were a wallflower? That was back when I was still terrified of the twins,” he said, his voice growing softer. Some of that fear eased from Lucretia’s face as well, and Barry tried to ignore that it wasn’t quite the face he remembered, shifted with age now. 
“A lot has changed since then, hasn’t it?” she said, and Barry’s lich form nodded, sharper than he maybe needed to. 
“Lucretia. You need to stop,” he insisted, cutting past the pleasantries now. That smile dropped from her face as well, replaced with a hard determination. 
“You know I can’t,” she said, her hand tightening on her staff, on the relic that she had made, that Magnus had sculpted for her and that carefully hid one seventh of that force they had chased for a century. It was impossible to say if the staff had her now, or if this was her own stubbornness at work. 
“It won’t work. We told you why it won’t work. Do you really think we didn’t consider it? That Lup and I didn’t think-” he argued, his robe starting to billow out now, despite how still the field they were in was. 
“Barry you couldn’t convince me before and you can’t now. This world will survive, I’m going to make sure of it,” she insisted.
“And what about us?!” he snapped, and there was a reason he was keeping his distance, a lot of reasons actually. So that Lucretia couldn’t get the drop on him, so that he wasn’t too close to her relic, and so that he didn’t accidentally hurt her. That proved a good choice now, bolts of arcane power shooting off of him and scorching the ground. 
“What- what are you talking about?” Lucretia asked, concern there. Concern and fear. 
“Does your plan account for us surviving?” he pressed, that confusion deepening on her face. 
“Of course it does. I accounted for everyone. Barry, I promise they’re safe. I had a place for you too, but you were already gone,” she insisted, and maybe it was rude, but he scoffed at that. 
“They’re not safe anymore Lucretia,” he said. There was a question on her lips, but he continued before she could ask it. “Those lives you set up for them? That you stuck them in like dolls are gone now. I can’t find Merle, no one’s seen him at the beach in months. There was a revolution in Raven’s Roost, the district Magnus was in was bombed. As far as I can tell he wasn’t there, but he’s missing now too,” he explained, watching the dawning horror creep across Lucretia’s face. 
“And something went wrong at Taako’s show yesterday. I’m gonna be honest, I’m still working out the details on that one. All I know is that I was alive when I ate the food from the show, and well,” he gestured at his spectral form, certain she could piece it together. “Not a single person who was at the show survived from what I’ve been able to pick up. Taako escaped, but there’s a manhunt out for him now, so who knows how long that’ll last.” 
“I didn’t- I didn’t know,” she managed after a moment, her composure faltering before she shook her head. “I’ll find them. I promise Barry I’ll find them and I’ll fix this too,” she insisted. 
“How? By making them forget these lives too?” he snapped. 
“No, that’s not- this isn’t permanent. It’s... a break. I wanted to give them a chance to be happy again, even if only for a moment,” she said, her voice soft with sorrow. “Barry, I know you have a way of reviving. If you simply trusted me on this, you could have that too. You could just... forget all this pain for a moment. You could let yourself live again and as soon as I finish this I promise, I will find you all and we can be a family again.” 
Barry didn’t say anything for a moment, but he could see the red energy a near constant crackle around him now. 
“Did she... did Lup really mean nothing to you?” 
“I-” Lucretia choked out, grief and guilt plastered across her face, and Barry could tell his question hurt. He knew it wasn’t true, but after surviving off of feelings so long it was hard not to confuse feelings with reality. 
“That’s not fair. I’m trying. Barry I’m trying to find her, I swear. I’ve tried everything.” 
“Everything except trusting your family! Please Lucretia, I can’t- I can’t find her and I don’t know how much longer I can do this on my own,” he said, begging now. He couldn’t keep up this pattern much longer, couldn’t keep reviving and forgetting and searching and dying and remembering and reviving over and over and over again. 
“Not much longer now. I promise Barry, I’m almost there. I’ll fix this soon,” Lucretia said, raising her staff up now. 
“Lucretia!” he shouted, but the relic was too strong and he was too broken by his search. Before he could reach her a bubble encased her form, turning opaque before disappearing in a small burst of light. Leaving Barry alone.
Heading to his cave, he checked on the status of his next body, added his latest discoveries to his map. He just had to keep moving forward. Lucretia was getting close, he couldn’t give up now. Just a little bit longer. 
And up on the moon base, Lucretia took a moment to pull herself together before heading to her own office. Once there, she began to compose a story of a band of rogue red robed wizards. The relics needed an origin, and every good cause needed something to defeat. 
She only prayed Barry took her advice and let himself forget too. If he did, then the only one who needed to be cast as the villain of this story was her. 
205 notes · View notes
furblrwurblr · 4 years ago
Text
I suppose this is an improvement...
Douxie x reader, fluff with a side of that good kush crack
Sequel to Patience, Love and a part three on the way!
Warnings: Mild swears, a bit of an innuendo
You and Douxie had been talking the past couple of weeks, and he’d slowly broken your lingering wall of embarrassment from that little incident at the coffee shop. He was indescribably sweet and silly, sending you pictures of items from GDT Arcane books with silly captions. You’d long since met the one responsible for the pawprint signature, and absolutely fallen in love with him. The feeling seemed to be mutual, but you weren’t sure until Douxie brought up his magic to you, allowing Archie to speak with you. It was a loaded conversation for him, his only courage coming from the fact that your thoughts curled around his shoulders every morning and night, and that you knew how much time he spent when he woke up turning this way and that to read your thoughts through his blasted tattoos. He’d been surprised when you very calmly dissolved the ring on your finger, reforming it and twirling it in the air, its consistency like liquid. When he asked why he hadn’t sensed it in your aura, all you really knew was that it was one of the Old Magicks, before Light Conjurers like himself had become the predominant class. After that, he spoke with you far more, wanting to learn about your magic and excited his soulmate was like him. 
༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓
Warped Tour had seemed ages away then, but now it was the day of. You’d just picked up your phone when the intercom buzzed, alerting you that he was here. Hm, scarily punctual, you’d just watched the clock on your lock screen flash 7:00. You buzzed him in and waited by the door, his fast footsteps quickly being surpassed in speed by your heartbeat. 
He quickly rapped a knuckle on the door, a nervous smile spreading across his face as you opened the door a little too enthusiastically. He brought his hands from behind his back to reveal… a trollish artifact?
“It’s an Antramonstrum shell to protect your flat. I don’t like the idea of anything taking advantage of your limited offensive magic,” he explained, looking from it to you, trying to discern your reaction.
You were in shock. This man comes to your door promising a nice dinner before he whisks you across the country on a traveling band tour, and he brings you a gift? You’d been expecting flowers or a book but this… it was beautiful. Screw whatever protective capabilities it had, the thing was gorgeous. A beautiful dark base of textured, volcanic rock and ethereal spires of glowing, purple crystal. You gently took it from him, turning it in your hands.
“Where would be best to put it?” you finally asked, remembering its intended purpose.
Douxie unsuredly looked to you, the door, then into the flat causing you to remember something else: he’d been standing in the doorway this entire time. Outside. In the hall. Apologies poured out of you as you threw open the door the rest of the way and ushered him inside. He laughed before taking a quick look around the main area before settling on you. That laugh, every time you heard it was like the first, making your heart blossom. Hah, there’s that word again. First. 
You shook your head and pulled yourself out of the clouds to give him a quick tour. He placed the shell on the dresser in the front area and turned to you, hands fiddling against his pockets.
“You ready to go? Our reservation’s in half an hour, we’ve got time to walk before we head off. We can drop your bag off at the bookstore.”
You nodded and grabbed your hiking pack. He’d said you’d be camping together, just for the fun of it, so you packed everything. He chuckled when he saw you, the pack weighing you down almost comically. He tapped it as you passed, a flash of blue light instantly reducing the load.
Walking and talking for the next half hour came naturally, both of you playing off one another’s excitement. Animated conversation followed you both on the near-empty streets of Arcadia.
༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓
The dinner was pleasant, nothing extravagant but certainly among the nicer establishments of the area. He tried to tip the waiter after paying for it all, but you’d slapped his hand away and left $15, really the largest you could afford to.
༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓
After picking up both of your bags and saying farewell to Archie, who wasn’t a fan of any concert Douxie wasn’t a part of, he led you to the woods. Ominous, sure, but he assured you it was worth it. Finally, you two reached a clearing and he plopped his bag down, rummaging through it. He revealed a ball that barely fit comfortably in his hand, raised it, and smashed it against a root. You yelped, covering your face to prevent getting hit with any shards of glass, but there were none. Instead, there now stood a majestic gold and eggshell white boat before you, with a swirling mess of rings and green magic at the back. You stared, mouth agape as Douxie turned to you, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.
“Let’s close that,” he said, gently placing two fingers under your chin and closing your mouth. He leaned in close, breath fanning over your ear. “Wouldn’t want to catch any flies,” he teased, before dancing backward and slinging his pack over his shoulder. He lifted yours in a sustained flash of blue, its contents rattling in protest when it landed in the boat. You followed him up the now-extended wing of the boat, feeling the metal and magic meld below your feet.
“I’ve got a couple questions,” you stated as he rummaged through a long compartment in the boat’s side.
“Go for it,” he responded, eyes lighting up in triumph as he pulled out a long, golden rod. 
“First off, how come you lifted my pack and not yours?”
“Magic isn’t a permissible shortcut to hard work,” he recited. It sounded practiced, so he must hear it often. “For you though, there’s a bit of wiggle room.” He sat across from you on the bench, rod laid in his lap.
Oh, so he got flirty as the night deepened. Good to know. You were curious where his little mantra came from, but you brushed it aside and stuck with the questions you already had. “Alright then, you tease, what’s the green thing in the back?”
His chest puffed a bit with pride. “One of my Master’s creations, he calls it a small Heart of Avalon. Runs on time.”
“It runs on time?”
“It runs on time,” he confirmed with a glint in his eye.
If you weren’t impressed before, you sure were now. “That’s all I’ve got for now,” you said, still processing the magical artifact meant to power this boat.
Douxie stood, twirling the rod in his hand. With his other, he summoned a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves! What you’re about to witness is a magical feat like no other!” He tossed it, mic disappearing in a puff of bright blue smoke. He twirled the rod in the air a few times and slammed the end into the circular port between the benches. The lazy rings roared to life, spinning impossible fast. You looked at him, delighted. He winked at you and braced himself against the rod while you stumbled, the boat moving beneath you.
“You could have warned me!” you chided.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed.
The boat soared into the sky, the forest already small. He pushed the rod into a tilt, the boat surging forward. The air tousled his hair, long sides whipping against his face. You two were euphoric, happy to be with one another. 
He shifted the rod a bit to stay in its current position before sitting next to you on the bench. You two were quiet for a moment until Douxie spoke up. You couldn’t see him properly, but you could tell he was fighting a smile. He lifted up his sleeve, your thoughts about his demeanor after-hours just beginning to fade. “I’m impressed you were able to wait until after dinner this time, little minx,” he said evenly, a snicker escaping him afterward. 
You nudged his arm with an indignant half-scoff, face burning at the nickname’s return.
Some time passed, conversation flowing gently. Douxie’s phone began vibrating, ringtone muffled. He pulled it out, the tune now all too clear, his lip between his teeth trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. Zoe’s smiling face mocked you from the screen to that wretched tune. 
“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kind of look to make me freak…”  the rest faded as you contemplated leaping off the side of the boat to become one with nature.
“Douxie! Why!” you scolded through a fit of giggles.
“Hey, Zo,” he laughed into the mic, putting her on speaker.
“Yes!!! She heard it! That was such a good decision, extraordinarily sexy of me for the suggestion. You guys getting close yet?”
“We’re about a quarter of the way, we’ll be there fairly soon.”
A quarter? It hadn’t been that long, just how fast were you going? The wind had died down, your hair no longer swirling violently. You looked over the side to try and glean any understanding of your speed to no avail.
You returned to Douxie’s side as he was finishing up on the phone. He handed it to you after saying his goodbyes, saying Zoe wanted to speak to you briefly. He’d taken it off speaker, so you held it to your ear.
“Hey, sweets. How you holdin’ up?”
You beamed at the term of endearment. “I’m doing alright, he hasn’t killed me yet.”
“I’m more worried about him after how you two met. Don’t jump his bones on the first night, love you, bye!” she snickered.
You barely stammered a farewell through your embarrassed smile before the line went dead. Douxie smirked at you, knowing exactly what was said despite not being able to hear it.
He stood and walked past you to tend to the steering mechanism, not before pausing, placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking into your ear again. His breath tickled your ear, his voice low.
“Patience, love.”
89 notes · View notes
alovesongshewrote · 4 years ago
Text
Almost A Thousand Years - Spellbound | Hisirdoux Casperan
Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]
Word Count:  5,298
Warnings: guess who’s swearing again, reader is generally sad lol, mentions of torture
A/N:  OOP WIZARDS
Tags: @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief  @jinxedleo​ @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip
Back | Next​
Tumblr media
“Beware!  You, you!  Are in grave danger!”
“Archie?”
You were very surprised to see the familiar and very glad that whatever made you want to hurt Douxie didn’t apply to him.  
“(Y/N)?”
“Heyyy, Arch,”
“(Y/N), where have you been?  Douxie’s been looking for you everywhere!”
“That’s what I’m worried about,”
“Wait, (Y/N), you know the talking cat?”  Toby exclaimed, frantically between you and the cat-dragon.
“He’s a familiar, actually,”
“Familiar?”
“Nuh-uh, not familiar, I would remember if I’d met a talking cat,”
“No, familiar, wizard-assistant,”
“Assistant!  That’s very offensive, I am a wizard associate, thank you very much,”
“Yeah, okay, semantics, what do you need Arch?”
“I need you to come with me, or the world as you know it will come to end,”
You sighed, rubbing your temples.  Had you and your gang of stray children, trolls, and Akiridions not saved the planet enough for one year?  What sin did you commit to cause these unending apocalypses to rain down on you?
“Are you threatening me pussy cat?”
You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, a little worried that he would actually try to fight Archie.  It wouldn’t be too out of character for him.
“No, I’m warning you,” Archie responded, calm as ever, “Put simply, the world as you know it is about to end,”
“What else is new,”  you muttered, following the cat-dragon down the street, “C’mon guys, let’s see what wants to destroy the universe now,”
Toby, Steve and Arrrgh kept up the conversation while you followed Archie in silence, silently praying that wherever the familiar led you, his wizard would be far away.
Your prayers went unanswered.  
“Sorry, this is a lot to take in.  Pets can talk?  The world is ending?  Again?”
“Not the best timing, I know, but we need your help all the same,”
“Douxie?”
“Casperan,”
“(Y/N)?”
“Wait, (Y/N), you know this guy too!?”  
You froze in place at Steve’s question, looking briefly into Douxie’s eyes.  If it hadn’t been physically painful to avoid killing him whenever you were in the same place, it still would’ve been emotionally painful.  How could you look into the eyes of the one person you could always count on, the man you loved, when he had left you for dead?  How could you look into his eyes knowing you had been sent to kill him?  Centuries had passed, and yet you still felt like the traitor you’d always been.
“We’re acquaintances,” you said, stepping back in a desperate attempt to quell the bloodlust rising within you, trying to escape the rage that wasn’t yours.
You avoided looking into Douxie’s eyes again, but the hurt on his face was clear to you, even if you weren’t staring directly at it.
“Wait, wait, hold up, I thought you worked at the cafe or were a model or something-?”
Douxie laughed a little, trying to shake off your icy demeanour, “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,”  
The cuff on his wrist glowed blue, the light forming an orb in the palm of his hand.  The teenagers in front of you were wide-eyed, amazed by Douxie’s use of magic.  You just shook your head and kept trying not to kill your oldest friend.
He pressed the orb to the door of the bookshop, unlocking it, “Come on then, the answers to all your questions are within,”
“Sure they are,” you muttered, hanging back as the boys filed into the store.  You took a second to look at Arcadia’s Arcane bookstore, one of the few places in town you’d never actually been to.  When Douxie started working there, you decided that avoiding the shop was a key part of not committing murder.  The same went for the cafe, and anywhere else the wizard went.
“(Y/N)?” Speak of the devil, it was the wizard.  The one whose life you were trying to save, “C’mon, I need you for this, too,”
“I-” you looked down, desperately searching for an excuse.  End of the world or not, saving Douxie from yourself was more important.  Maybe you should’ve just left Arcadia.
“(Y/N),” his voice was soft, just as you remembered it.  The way he looked at you made you want to cry.  There was so much love in his eyes.  Left for dead or not, you couldn’t deny he did care about you, “Please,”
He reached out, his hand gently clasping around your wrist.  No matter how much you longed for his touch, you tore your hand from his grip as if you’d been burned.
“Fine, Douxie, I’ll join you on whatever hell-quest this is, but you have to promise that you’ll stay away from me,”
He was shocked, clearly taken aback by what you said, “That’s… that’s fine, but why?”
It killed you to hear how heartbroken he sounded, “I’ll explain later, let’s just go,”
The hurt in your voice hit him hard.  The way you’d jerked your hand back left him feeling as if he’d done something wrong.  Whatever it was, Douxie promised himself that he would figure it out and apologize to you and make it better.  He didn’t need you to forgive him, he just wanted you to smile again.  He wanted to see the light in your eyes, the one that he’d been falling in love with since at least the fifteen-hundreds, even if he wasn’t the cause of it.  Ever since you’d disappeared, you’d been distant.  The few chances he got to look at you, you’d seemed haunted.  He wanted to help you so bad, but he couldn’t do anything unless you let him.
Silently, the two of you walked through the door.
Inside the shop, various objects floated about, surrounded by a green hue.  You recognized that magic.  It had cursed you years ago and had cursed Jim more recently.  Merlin.
“Put that down! Thank the ether you’re here!  We haven’t a moment to waste,”
“Woah, crusty creepy dude,”  
You laughed at that, trying to keep yourself quiet and failing.  You wouldn’t say it to Merlin’s face, but those were your thoughts almost exactly.  The old wizard ignored both you and Steve.
“I had hoped for more Hisirdoux,”
“Jeez, thanks Merlin,”
“Silence, traitor,”
You rolled your eyes into the back of your head.  Would no one let you live that down?  
As if Douxie sensed your discomfort, the young wizard took the attention off of you, “Look, I tried, I couldn’t find the changelings or the aliens.  I’m pretty sure most left the planet,”
“Merlin!  It’s me!  Toby Domzalski!  Y’know, War Hammer, Guardian of Arcadia, Geology Club president,”
“No one could forget you chatty,”
“Oh my god, Merlin, what have I told you about talking to kids!”  
Since the old man had awoken from his nine-century long sleep, you’d tried to convince him to do two things.  Call Douxie, because the young wizard deserved to know what was going on and you couldn’t tell him yourself, and be nicer to the children for god’s sake.
“And Steve Palchuk!  Creepslayer!”
“I have no idea who you are, but we’re desperate.  Thankfully, we have the brute,”
“Because, y’know, the traitor is of no use to you,” you muttered, scooping up Archie, trying to interrupt a dispute between him and Arrrgh.  Fortunately, the familiar did not struggle to get away from you despite your cold attitude towards his wizard.  That, at the very least, brought you some relief.
“Wait, where’s Jimbo and Claire?  I thought they were with you?”
“Yeah, good question Merlin, where’ are the kids you’re in charge of?”
“Answers forthcoming.  Make preparations, we’ve a journey ahead.  And don’t-”
“But Master!”
“‘But Master,’ me,”
“Very typical,” you sighed, releasing Archie from your hold.  Your attention was brought back to Douxie.
“But… are you sure you want to count on these children?  They’re clearly not ready for this,”
He was partially right.  Your kids had seen battle before and could probably take whatever was thrown at them, but that didn’t mean they should have to.  They deserved a break.
Steve scoffed, “Excuse me, college dude, these children fought off a fifty-foot extraterrestrial,”  he made a good point despite it being an obvious brag, and it would have held some weight, had he not promptly gotten into a scuffle with an enchanted set of armour.  
You watched, cringing a bit, before turning your attention to Merlin and Douxie’s conversation.
“I’ve spent years preparing, centuries-!”  All true, once again.  You could say what you wanted about Hisirdoux Casperan, but you couldn’t deny he was more than capable when it came to magic.   You'd seen his magic improve over the centuries, and you knew for a fact that he could kick some ass.
“Silence!”  Merlin cut Douxie off, reminding you ever so slightly of your Camelot days.  You wanted, desperately, to comfort your friend, but being in the same room was hard enough.  If you touched him, he would die.
“I mean, silence, all of you,”  Merlin corrected himself, “Can you not hear that?”
You could hear nothing, but you stopped to listen anyway.  Beside you, Toby drew his hammer, readying for a battle.
You still couldn’t hear it.
“Something wicked this way comes,”
You squeezed your eyes shut, tired and stressed, but willing to fight.  You drew your sword, and in front of you, blue magic circled around Douxie’s wrist.  Your body was telling you to murder him right now, show him no mercy, go for the throat, but you held back.  Now was not the time to kill your friends.
Merlin and Douxie walked past you to look out the window.  You joined them, squinting to try and make out what lurked in the murky darkness, only to jump back when a shadow mephit flung itself at the glass in front of you.  It bounced off a shield of blue, tumbling off into the street to join its brothers and sisters, all of which now came into view.
“Shadow mephits?  Traitor, did you lead them here?”
“You do know I have a name, right?”
“No, no, it wasn’t (Y/N), it was me, or at least I think it was,”
“Yes, it was us,” Archie said, jumping onto a shelf next to Douxie.  You would’ve laughed at the familiar’s candor, had the shadow mephits been less interested in breaking in.
Merlin just shook his head, “He found us.  The barrier won’t hold for long.  We must make egress!  Tobias, take my things!”
With a wave of Merlin’s hand, a trunk, surrounded by the green glow of his magic, slammed into Toby and flew him up to the roof, screaming.
“For god’s sake, Merlin,”  he couldn’t hear you through the attack, but it was the sentiment that counted.
But then again nothing really mattered.  A mephit broke through the barrier, only to face a bolt of magic from Merlin, “All of you to the roof!”
You grabbed Steve and Arrrgh and started up the stairs.  Douxie, of course, didn’t listen to his master.  You couldn’t hear the argument that took place between them as you guided your companions up the stairs, but you could see what was going on below you.  You had to admit, Douxie blasting shadow mephits while standing his ground in an argument was pretty damn impressive (impressive here meaning hot.)
Merlin moved past you, blasting some mephits as he went.  You took initiative and sent some magic their way as well, knocking a few away from Archie.  Douxie grabbed his familiar with magic, saving the cat-dragon from a very mephit-y death.
“C’mon Douxie,” you said, waiting for him by the door, crying out slightly when the nerd rammed his hand into a candle, feeling the burn on your own hand.  Your wizard took a brief moment to look at you, then the candle before lighting the bookstore on fire.
To be fair, it was a magic fire, and it wasn’t damaging anything but the mephits.  You were actually quite impressed by that, too, and you were very charmed by his laughter once he saw that his plan worked.  Merlin, however, didn’t care.
“Fire!?”
“Yeah, magic fire!”
“In a bookstore!!?”
“Butmephitsarevulnerabletofire-”
“Move it!”
You grabbed Archie, jumping out the door to see your friends fighting off even more shadow mephits.
“Got any more magic fire, Doux?”
“‘M afraid I’m fresh out,”
“Ah.  Fuck,”
You swung your sword into the nearest mephit, “I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way then,”  You buried the blade in another one of the creatures before placing Archie on the ground and blocking a blow from yet another mephit.
“Stand back!”  Merlin exclaimed, throwing a crystal ball that released a small ship from inside of it.  The blast from the ship blew back a few of the mephits long enough for everyone to have a two-second gawk at the little boat.
“Woah, ship just got real!”
“Yeah-huh,”
“Everyone on!”  Arrrgh growled, tossing all of you on board.  
You frantically scuttled away from Douxie, double-checking your blade to be sure it didn’t have his blood on it.  It didn’t.  He was safe.  From you, at least.
You stuck to one side of the ship, watching your friends fight off more shadow mephits on the other side.  You sincerely hoped they’d never have to fight you like that.
You heard someone say, “Boy,” from below, a voice that was eerily familiar to one you had heard before, not too long ago.  You were about to rise and check to see if your suspicions were correct, but before you had the chance, green shards flew through the air, just like-
Just like the one that had gone through you.
You didn’t have time to ponder things as Merlin’s ship flew off through the night sky.  You just sat back and shut your eyes, trying to keep the internal demons at bay.
You did your best to erase the memory from your mind.  To forget a green knight who, on the orders of his masters, sent a shard of black magic right through you.  You should have died, but instead, the projectile broke through your skin and disintegrated, taking over your body, turning you into an assassin against your will.  Your captors had called it a trial, an experiment.  Sneaking a look at one of the shards beside you, you realized that you had been a test run.  That shard hadn’t disintegrated.
You kept your eyes shut.
A few minutes later, the memories faded.  You could relax, finally.  The sound of the boys screaming with joy rang through the air.  Flying was fun, you had to admit that.  You opened your eyes, first looking at Steve, Arrrgh, and Toby, then at Douxie.  
He was beautiful, staring off into the distance as if there was nothing in the world to worry about.  As if the assassin sent to kill him wasn’t at his side right now.  You bit the inside of your cheek to keep any emotion from showing.  You couldn’t let them know anything was wrong, if you did they’d never trust you again.  But what you felt was overwhelming.
You were stressed, not knowing what was to come in the future, nor what your captors would do to you if they knew your target was still alive.  You were hurt, because over the ten years that you’d been tortured your best friend hadn’t searched for you, even though he had before.  Was he tired of you?  Did he just not care anymore?  You were scared of the answer.  And worst of all, you were in love.  But you refused to admit it.
“What the heck is that?”
You turned your attention to the horizon before you, “That’s not-”
“Welcome, young squires, to Camelot,”
“Camelot!?  Like, as in ancient-old-people-times Camelot!?”
“Thanks, Toby,” you snarked under your breath.  You heard a snicker from beside you.  You made him laugh.  That made you feel a lot better.  You even smiled when you thought Douxie wasn’t looking.  Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.
He was looking.  His fondness for seeing his old home dulled in comparison to his fondness for you.  The small smile on your lips was enough to power his world for decades, no, centuries.  You still seemed troubled, but if you smiled now, there was still hope that he could help you make things better.  
“Excuse me, I have a question.  How is this castle flying right now?”  
“The Heart of Avalon.  Its magic keeps Camelot aloft, powered by time itself,”
You took a moment to lean over the side of the ship, examining the large green stone.  It was nice.  Reminded you of Merlin’s magic.  The ship took a sudden turn upwards, and Merlin called out a greeting to someone.
“Holy crap, Gallahad’s still alive?”
“Seems that way,”
“I guess committing treason means you miss the weekly newsletter,”
You missed Douxie’s frown at your angsty humour.  He wanted you to know that no matter what Merlin called you, you were no longer a traitor.  You wished that could be true.
The ship took another sharp turn, heading for the entrance.
“I say, coming in a little hot, don’t you think?”
“Rubbish!”
“I knew Merlin would be the death of me, but not like this,”
You held on tight as the ship landed, but it wasn’t enough.  The impact launched you into Douxie, who managed to catch you, only for you to jump out of his arms, even though you would’ve liked to stay there.
“Sorry,” you whispered, once again straining to avoid murder.
If Merlin didn’t try to execute you for past treasons, he would definitely kill you for murdering his favourite apprentice.  Of course, that was only one of several reasons to avoid committing homicide, but it was the most prevalent right now as Merlin caught your eye.
Toby, Steve and Douxie exchanged banter, while you spoke in lower tones with your once master.
“So, you still haven’t gotten over your petty rivalry, have you?
“It’s not that, Master, I-”
“So we’re back to Master, are we?”
“It’s only fitting seeing that we’re back in Camelot,”
“If that’s the case, I should have you killed for treason,”
You weren’t sure if that was a joke or not, but your response was one hundred percent serious, “Please do,”
Merlin turned to you, fairly concerned.  He was not expecting that retort, to say the least.  But you weren’t looking at him.  You were looking back at his apprentice, something he couldn’t name trapped in your gaze.
“Uh, cool floating castle ship,” Toby interrupted both your and Merlin’s train of thought, “But what’s the grave danger you keep talking about?”
Merlin didn’t answer, instead, he looked ahead of him, “Ah, there you are,”
“Claire!”
“Toby!”
“Aarghaumont!”
“Blinky!”
You grinned as your friends hugged each other.  It was good for them to be back together again.  
“Whoa, hey, Steve’s here, too!  How ‘bout- how ‘bout some love for Steve?”
As much as you admired Steve’s growth as a person, you had to cringe, just a little.
“Oh, hi Steve,”  Claire said, unimpressed before her eyes turned to you, “(Y/N)!  Hi!”
“Hey, Claire, Blink,” you gave a small wave, too emotionally and physically exhausted for anything else at this point.
“What happened to you guys?”  Toby asked, frantically taking in Claire and Blinky’s worse for wear appearances, “Wait, where’s Jim?”
The look on Claire’s face told you everything you needed to know.
One room over, Jim was encased in a green crystal… thing.  
You knelt to the ground next to Jim’s crystal and immediately began your assessment.  The trollhunter’s face, arms and legs seemed to be fine, but a shard of something had embedded itself in his chest.  Unfortunately, you recognized it.  It was the same thing your captors used to force you into becoming an assassin.  It looked like the shard had gotten about halfway in before stopping, completely intact, above Jim’s heart.  You didn’t need to be a doctor to know that that wasn’t a good thing, but you were a doctor, and you needed to get a closer look before you could do anything.  Before you could get any closer, your attention went back to the conversation taking place between everyone else in the room.
“What happened to him?”
“We were ambushed.  Some ancient, dark warrior.  An unstoppable knight clad in green,”  
Your blood ran cold.  You were right.  Same knight, same shard, and eventually, same outcome.  You didn’t want to think about that.  You refused to consider the implications.
“Master, is that the same knight we saw at the bookstore?”
“One and the same,”
You swore under your breath.  This could not be happening.  You never wanted to deal with your captors ever again, but here they were, knocking at your door and trying to kill more of your friends.
“That onyx shard is working its way towards his heart.  I placed the boy in stasis, stalling its progress… for now,”
“But that’s not a permanent solution, is it?”  you muttered, deciding to distract yourself from thoughts of the green knight by trying to find a way to fix this problem.  
If you removed the shard, it might leave a gaping hole in Jim’s chest, one that would need more than a few stitches, that is if you could pull the shard out at all.  You weren’t super sure whether it would disintegrate or not, and if it did, that might kick start whatever possession your captors had planned for Jim.  
If you couldn’t remove the shard, stasis was the best idea until you figured out how to remove it.  Maybe it could be burnt away?  But that might kick start disintegration.  No, that would just burn the boy, and impalement was bad enough.  You racked your brain, struggling to find a solution.  Around you, your friends were talking, but you barely listened.  You needed to focus, otherwise, you’d explode from nerves alone.
“If I had my shadow staff, I could have saved him,”
“Who is this Green Knight?  How do I get my hands on him?”
“I do not know.  The Green Knight said but one name, which chilled me to the bone.  Morgana,”
The name of the Eldritch queen caught your attention.  You stood up, eyes now focused on Merlin.
“Oh, I hate that lady.  But wait, I thought we kicked her bewitched butt to the shadow realm?”
“Which he appeared not to know, but he bore the emblem of Camelot,”
Great.  Just great, the last thing you needed was Camelot zombies, and yet, here they were!  Merlin took a few steps away from Jim before turning and heading out the door, and into the night.  The gang followed though you stayed behind, taking one last look at Jim.  You’d failed him.  You were supposed to be a doctor, and a protector, but here he was, nearly dead because you left him alone with Merlin for more than two seconds.
“Come with me, quickly.  I fear the answer lies in the past,”  
You turned away from Jim, following behind the others, avoiding Douxie and staying silent.
“A dark menace is coming, one even I cannot face alone,”  The old wizard led you into another tower, stopping at a table in the center and opening up a time map, “You are all now soldiers in a war started centuries ago for the world of magic,”
You scoffed slightly, “Yeah, what else is new,”
Merlin ignored you, “Once, the realms of Magic and Man clashed in endless bloodshed.  King Arthur sought to wipe out magic that ravaged the lands in his war against Gunmar,”  blue light from the time map displayed images of Arthur and Gunmar as the old wizard spoke.  
You turned your eyes to the floor at the sight of your old master.  It hadn’t been long since you’d seen the old trolls face, but it still brought a sense of anxiety with it.  The Gumm-Gumm king had trained you to be afraid, to be a fighter.  He’d pretty much ruined your childhood, but there was no time for angst now.  Merlin was still expositing.
“I brought what few spellcasters I could under my protection, to spare them from the sword,”
“Including myself, (Y/N)-”
“That’s technically false,”
“Oh, and Morgana le Fay,”
“She was the finest student I ever taught… until she tried to kill me.  Thankfully, in my all-seeing wisdom,”  you rolled your eyes again.  Merlin kept talking, “I created a secret weapon- the Trollhunter amulet.  The war came to a standstill and I imprisoned Morgana at the Battle of Killahead Bridge,”
“Only for her to break out nine hundred years later,”
“Shush,” Merlin finally acknowledged you, “This Green Knight that assailed us was clearly born of dark magicks, but I have no memory of him nor what connection he could have to Morgana,”
You bit your lip, remembering the shard used to curse you.  You had a very vague idea of the connection between the Eldritch queen and the Green Knight.
“We know not what he is, nor why he pursues us, though his presence is a dire omen of things to come,”
You also had a decent idea of why the knight was pursuing you.  Or, at least pursuing Merlin.  If this green knight was, in fact, the same that served your captors, it was likely he was doing their bidding just as you were.  With the knight, they’d targeted Merlin directly, or, at the very least his trollhunter.  In your case, you’d been sent to kill one of the very few people Merlin actually cared about.  Either way, they were coming for Merlin, or for what he had.  
Back in your prison, you had two main captors.  You’d only briefly met the third, the one they’d lost.  From what you’d gathered, the other two assumed she ran to Merlin, and judging by size alone, it was very possible that she was hiding somewhere here, in Camelot.  
It was either that, or they were coming after you specifically for not murdering Douxie fast enough, but that didn’t seem likely.
The sound of a bell ringing shook you from your thoughts.
Something hit the side of the castle, knocking everyone to the floor.
“What’s happening?”
“Have you never been under attack before?  To the battlements!”
You followed Merlin and the squad outside to see your worst nightmare come to life.
Your once-prison, the ship of your captors, the Arcane Order, rose into view.
“Oh.  Fuck,”  your eyes widened as you took in the skull-shaped ship for the second time this century.
“Everyone, get to safety!  Now!”
Merlin didn’t have to ask you twice.  You grabbed whoever was nearest to you and scrambled to find the safest place possible.  It was kind of difficult while Camelot shook from each attack, but you managed.
You shoved Toby, Claire and Steve into a small sheltered balcony of sorts, raising your hands and casting a shield around the four of you.  Debris bounced off of the magic you’d projected.  Merlin was yelling something, but you kept your focus, straining to stay in place as ice hit the ship, forming bridges between the Arcane Order and Camelot.  It didn’t work very well.  The shield came down around you, but there was no time to set it up again.  
The kids ran towards the edge of the ship, their weapons drawn.  You followed behind.
“All of a sudden, flying castles aren’t so cool!”
“You said it, Steve,”
The ship shook some more as fire and ice attacked it.  You watched, wide-eyed, as the demi-gods who had tortured you for ten years sent blast after blast at what had once been your home.
“We‘ve got to protect Jim!  I’m not losing him again!”  Claire exclaimed as shadow mephits began to cross the icy bridges connecting them to Camelot.
You took two mephits out with your sword while Toby yelled something about hammers.  The four of you continued your fight, taking out as many goblins and shadow mephits as possible.  It didn’t take too long for you to clear a path, making your way to Jim and the trolls.
Another blast of ice carved its way into the tower in front of you, forcing you to remember that same ice carving its way into your skin.
“Surrender, Merlin,”  
That voice made you want to vomit.  You took a few steps back, not even bothering to prepare a spell or level your sword at an opponent.  You were somewhere else now.
Fortunately, you didn’t have to do much in terms of freeing the ship.  One of the towers crashed into the bridges of ice, releasing Camelot from the Arcane Order’s hold and snapping you out of your traumatized haze.
You followed Claire and Steve up to the main tower, where Douxie was trying his best to steer the ship.  
“Please don’t blow us up, please don’t blow us up,”
“We don’t have enough power for the jump!”  Archie sounded as panicked as you felt.
“Trust in Merlin!”  Scratch that, Douxie’s panicked shouting was much more like you.
“No thanks!”
Green fire surrounded whatever the hell device was controlling the ship, giving it enough power to tear a hole in time and space.
“We have to steer Camelot through the time rift!”
You would have helped if you hadn’t been slammed into one of the railings, left to cling on for your life.  That was probably fine, Douxie, Claire and Steve were managing.
“IT ENDS,”  it was the green knight’s voice again, “NOW,”
Panic surged through your veins as something hit the ship, tipping it, and sending you all flying.  You held onto whatever you could, trying not to freefall through the air.  Jim’s crystal nearly fell on you, instead, it fell down and into the time rift, which was probably worse than him just crushing you, but you couldn’t really think of that right now.
“What do we do man?”
“Trust me!”  Douxie exclaimed, grabbing Claire and pulling her with him into the rift.  You watched them fall, still panicking.
“Whatever, I have nothing better to do,” you joked, trying to calm your nerves.  It wasn’t working.  You let go and fell through the night and into a different time.
The sky changed.
It was daytime now.
You were still falling though.
“This is gonna hurt!”
“It- Does- Hurt!”  Steve voiced your thoughts perfectly.
The wind was knocked from your lungs as you hit blue forcefield after blue forcefield and then the ground.  The landing was pretty rough, but the good news was you were all alive.
The four of you remained lying on the ground for a moment before Steve began to freak out, something about being blind, before he was hit in the head with Jim’s crystal tomb.
The boy groaned, “What just happened?”
“Well, I just conjured an anti-gravity spell to slow our fall and keep us from dying.  You’re welcome,”
“Thanks for not letting us die a horrible, horrible death, Casperan,” you said, sitting up.  You did a quick check to make sure nothing was broken before you realized.  You didn’t have an innate drive to murder the wizard anymore.  You laughed a little, realizing the curse was broken, for now at least.
“(Y/N)? You okay, love?”
“I am much better than okay,”  You turned to see Douxie’s very concerned face, elated to find that you didn’t want to kill him anymore, “I’ll explain later,”
“Douxie,” Claire asked, calling your attention to her, “Where is the flying castle?”
“Oh, fuzzbuckets!  Well, it would appear we’ve had ourselves a temporal accident,”
“Which means?”
Douxie didn’t have time to answer before a sword was pointed at his throat.  It wasn’t yours though, so that was nice.
You looked around to see your little group surrounded by guards, all of them with weapons pointing at you.
“It means, that we are lost in time,”
“Motherfu-”
128 notes · View notes
scapegrace74-blog · 5 years ago
Text
Saorsa, Chapters 17 and 18
A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  I’ve combined two chapters, because Chapter 17 is very short, and the two chapters are linked, only told in the alternating Jamie/Claire POV of the entire story.   This time, it’s Jamie’s turn to divulge a secret.
Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.
Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging!  It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.
It was long past time to do something he’d been putting off since he first regained consciousness and realized that he had somehow leapt forward through time to a Lallybroch that was no longer his family’s estate.
There was a dusting of snow on the ground, and large, lazy flakes fell from a steel grey sky.  He slipped once, climbing the low hill in the pasture beyond the stables, and swore fluently in Gaelic.  His back still ached, but it was his lack of strength and endurance that truly bothered him.  Accustomed to ruddy physical vigour, it hurt his pride to be a mere onlooker in the day-to-day labour about the estate.
There were trees growing up through the ancient dry-stone walls.  The whole hillside had a forgotten, neglected air, but he would know the place blind-folded.   He knelt in front of the largest gravestone and began peeling moss away from its chilled, damp surface.
“Halo da.  Halo mam.  Is e mise a th ’ann.”
Brian and Ellen Fraser had lain in this earth for more than two hundred years, but he could still remember his father’s hearty laugh, his mother’s sweet smile.  The pain of losing them at a young age was still as fresh as the pink scars on his back.
He wished they could reach through the veil and guide him, just one last time.
In a few weeks, he would be fully recovered.  He’d read voraciously since Claire laid her late husband’s library at his disposal.  He knew what happened to the Scots who had supported the true king in the aftermath of Culloden.  Treason charges.  Imprisonment.  Death from a thousand petty hardships.  And for those who survived, the slow decay of their language, their customs, their very way of living.  Here in 1942 he saw only the softest echo of his culture, of the places and people he called home.
He longed to return to his time and to his remaining family, back through the stones on Craig na Dunn and back into the story he had been writing for himself since he was a young lad.  It felt dishonest to live on this estate that was no longer his, comfortable and well-fed, while back in 1746 Scotland was suffering.
But what would it serve, to return to certain bondage?  And who was he to say that the stones would send him back to his time?  He had carried with him from a young age a sense that he was meant for some larger purpose, that he had been forged for something bigger than sheer existence.  Surely it wasn’t merely to add his name to the list of Scotland’s glorious dead, moldering away in those dusty tomes he spent his days poring over.   Lallybroch’s history was already written, and it ended with the estate in the hands of a bonnie pregnant Sassenach widow carrying the child of his tormenter’s descendent.
He tried to clear his mind, to listen for words of wisdom whispered from beyond the grave.
None came.
He dashed at his eyes as tears of frustration welled up.  And then he began to pray.
By the time he rose, knees stiff and cold from kneeling in the snow, he knew what he must do.
Tha toil Dhè air a dhèanamh.
***
She muttered a stream of curses under her breath as snow crested the tops of her boots and spilled inside, puddling around her stockinged feet.
“Has no-one e’er remarked to ye that ye swear like a sailor, Sassenach?” Jamie said, pulling her uphill by her chilled hand.
“I only swear when provoked, you bloody bastard.  What could be so important that it couldn’t wait for me to don my gloves?  Or for spring, for that matter?”
Jamie didn’t respond, but he had the same nervous hum of anticipation that had glowed around him for days now.   When he’d suggested they take a very unseasonable walk in the snow, she’d gone with him purely in the hope that she might glean some clue to his strange mood.   It wasn’t the despondency of his earliest days at Lallybroch.  At strange moments, she caught him looking at her as though trying to solve some arcane riddle written on the lines of her face.   It wasn’t a lascivious glance, but it warmed her insides all the same.
Finally they came to a halt in an old graveyard she hadn’t known existed.  There was a stillness about the place that held all her inquiries at bay.
“I have a strange tale tae tell ye, Sassenach, and I want ye tae hear me through afore ye speak.   Can ye promise me that?”
She nodded, suddenly apprehensive what he was about to say would break her heart.
He knelt by a gravestone and dusted off its covering of snow.  Taking a deep breath of frosty air, he began to talk.
“Brian Robert David Fraser met Ellen Mackenzie at a Mackenzie clan gathering in 1716.   She was promised tae Malcolm Grant, but instead the pair snuck out of Castle Leoch t’gether in the ded of night.   Their first bairn, William, was born nine months hence, and by then the Mackenzie were resigned tae the union, e’en though Brian was only the base born son of auld Lord Lovat.  It was a love match, and they were verra happy t’gether.  A daughter, Janet, followed.  And eventually, another son.   James.   James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”
She gasped but didn’t dare speak.
Jamie continued with his story, seemingly speaking to himself, lost in reminiscence.  It was an unfathomably detailed tale of childhood memories and family lore, and she found herself caught up in the web of words he was weaving, not stopping to question how they could possibly be true.
He spoke of his mother’s untimely death, of growing into a young man surrounded by the bucolic familiarity of home.  About the burden of being the son of a lesser laird with no fortune.   Going overseas as a mercenary, first for the Dutch and later for the French crown.  Coming home to find the English abusing their power over the Highland Scots, being fostered to his Uncle Dougal, a committed Jacobite, and his father’s sudden passing.  Feeling adrift, without the firm anchor of home, and enlisting in the Catholic cause.   Fighting bravely at Prestonpans and being awarded a position of tacksman in the Jacobite army.  Leading mere boys and undisciplined farmers into battle, knowing that the Scottish position at Culloden was unwinnable, but being willing to lay down his life for the cause of seeing his country free of English tyranny.   Waking as a prisoner.  The unbearable pain of his torture at the hands of a nameless Redcoat officer.  His escape.  Fleeing blindly at dawn and collapsing near death at the feet of a circle of standing stones.  A magical place, left over from the time of the Old Ones.  And then, silence…
She came back to herself as though waking from a profound sleep.  Frozen tears crusted her lashes.
“Do ye believe me, Claire?” he asked, voice broken and unsure.
She had no rational framework on which to measure his truthfulness, so she listened to her heart.  It told her that this man had no conceivable reason to invent such an incredible story.  It told her that the passion and homesickness that had travelled over his face as he spoke could not be manufactured.   It told her that there was a fundamental truthfulness about Jamie.  It told her, above all, that this was the reason for his voiceless, stoic suffering in the weeks since he’d awoken at Lallybroch.
“Murtagh…” she whispered.
“Aye, Murtagh knows.  I dinna ken what I said in my fever, but he ‘ad all sorts of strange questions when I woke.  He harkens from the Isle of Lewis, ye ken, and he… weel… he’s a believer in the Old Ways, in the po’er of those stones.”
They crouched there in the snow next to a forgotten grave for so long her muscles cramped.  She stared at her bare hands, twisting the gold wedding band Frank had placed on her finger in endless circles.  There was little noise, except the occasional bough of fir releasing its burden to the ground.
Jamie finally stood stiffly and offered his hand.  “Come, yer cold.  I’ll see ye back to the house.”  There was resignation in his tone, and in the set of his shoulders.
She rose but did not move nor release his hand.
“Tell me again about the stones,” she requested.
He hesitated, then described again the ring of standing stones at the top of the hill called Craig na Dunn.
“They beckoned tae me.  I dinna ken how else tae say it.  I was more than half ded, but I remember a hum, a force, like… like a tide that pulls ye out tae sea.”
“And then?”
“And then, nothin’.  Next I kent, I was ‘wakening in the laird’s room at Lallybroch, seein’ ye watch o’er me.”
She blushed, remembering that strangely intimate moment of looking at, and then into, Jamie’s Delft blue eyes for the first time.
“Do ye believe me, Claire?” he asked again, pleading with those same inexorable eyes.
“Yes, Jamie.  Yes, I believe you.”
His relief was so great he stumbled forward on watery legs, catching himself just as he fell into her embrace.  Holding her there, in front of his parents’ graves, he drew his first deep breath in what felt like ages.
“Does this mean… that you’ll be leaving?  Is that why you’ve told me?”  She trembled in reaction.
“Nah, Sassenach.  I willna say it didna cross my mind, and Murtagh offered to bring me back tae Craig na Dunn once I was healed.”
He pulled back to look into her upturned face, pale and hopeful, with eyes so deep they trapped his soul.
“But I couldna go.  All tha’ awaits me in my own time is violence and death.  Here, wi’ ye, I feel useful.  Needed.  When I traveled through the stones, they burned away all my yesterdays, but this is a fine place tae build my t’morrows.  If ye’ll permit me tae stay, that is.”
She gave him another quick hug before releasing him.
“Of course.  I wouldn’t know what to do without you, James Fraser.”
They grinned at one another and slowly began to make their way down the hill towards the estate.  Neither seemed in a hurry to release the other’s hand.
“Jamie?” she asked as they approached the stables.
“Aye, Sassenach?”
“What made you tell me?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m humbled you trusted me enough to do so.  But…”
He paused in the snowy meadow and glanced upward, as though looking for an answer in the overcast sky.
“Nevermind,” she hastened to say.  “Your reasons are your own, of course.”
“I ken what ye’er asking me, Sassenach.  I’m only searching fer the words tae explain.”  After several moments, he went on, “Have ye e’er passed a day so bonnie and blue that God ‘imself must be smilin’ o’er yer shoulder?”  At her nod, he continued, “And yet all the while ye ken that if ye dinna honour tha’ day by bein’ the best version of yerself, it would disappear wi’ the wind, aye?  There’s a truthfulness between us Sassenach, I believe, and I dinna want tae break it, by no’ tellin’ ye who I really am.”
Claire mulled over this declaration as they returned to the main house.  Before they parted to their respective chores, she had one final thought on the matter.
“I never could have predicted what you shared with me today, Jamie.  And I’m sure I’ll have more questions, with time.  But on one point I’m absolutely certain.   Nothing that you’ve told me or will ever tell me could change my opinion of who you truly are.”
***
Halo da.  Halo mam.  Is e mise a th ’ann. - Hello Dad. Hello Mom. It's me.
Tha toil Dhè air a dhèanamh. - God's will be done.
30 notes · View notes
eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago
Text
637.
Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? >> You know, it’s funny -- I’m more likely to make snap judgements about atheists than Christians. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met my fair share of annoying proselytisers and hateful fundamentalists, have had “exorcisms” performed on me, the whole nine. I am definitely wary of Christianity as an institution, with good reason. But I’m really tired of the superiority complex that atheism seems to encourage (again, just like with Christians, not all atheists are like this -- but enough are). The fact that I dare to interpret my life and my reality in a non-materialist, often-arcane fashion immediately puts me at odds with a lot of atheists because their first thought about anything other than strict materialism is “only idiots believe that”, and I’m not going to let some other equally-in-the-dark human being treat me like an idiot because of something this personal (and this arbitrary!). Somehow, Christians telling me I’m going to hell because I listen to death metal or masturbate or whatever is less deeply irritating to me than that.
Do you ever brush your teeth in the shower? >> No. I can see why you would, though.
Has your printer ever stopped working at the last minute and you had a paper due the next day? What did you do? >> ---
Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? >> It’s more like... I don’t feel like dealing with other people’s baggage, you know? Their inflexibility of mind, or baked-in prejudices, or superiority/inferiority complexes, or whatever. It’s really not worth it all the time. I could be putting my energy to better use than fielding off other people’s contempt. So I wouldn’t say my reticence is fear-based as much as it’s... boredom-based. lmao
Do you have a girl that is strictly a friend that isn’t related to you that you can go to? >> Yawn.
Have you ever painted your nails on only one hand, forgetting about the other one or getting side-tracked? >> No.
Have you ever tried sucrets? >> I don’t think so.
Would you date someone that smokes? >> I don’t date, but in general being a smoker isn’t something that puts me off a person. Being rude about smoking and not accepting that not everyone wants to breathe in their secondhand cancer air would, though. And if you smoke cigars, no thanks. Cigarette smoke is bad enough but cigar smoke is twice as bad.
What about drinks? >> Again, it’s not the act of drinking that puts me off a person, it’s to what extent their drinking affects their life and the lives of those around them.
Have you ever gone to one of those parties where everyone is falling around drunk everywhere? >> I don’t think so. I mean, maybe one or two people depending on their tolerance? But not the whole damn party.
Are you “the good guy”, or “the bad guy”, or somewhere in between? >> Yes.
Do you ever erase the numbers off of surveys just because they annoy you? >> No, the reason numbers tend to disappear off surveys when I take them is because when I paste the survey into this text box, tumblr automatically formats it like a numbered list, and when I unformat it the numbers go with it.
Person you like shows up at your house: you … >> ---
Last person you talked on the phone with? >> ---
Do you think you will have the same best friend a year from now? >> ---
Do you have siblings over the age of twenty-one? >> No.
Will tomorrow be better than today? >> I mean, today’s going to be pretty good. I’m going to play video games for hours to make up for the fact that I couldn’t all weekend.
What do you hear right now? >> Nothing.
What was the last thing to go into your mouth? >> Water, I think.
Do you usually tell people when you’re mad at them? >> I operate under the assumption that most people won’t care whether I’m upset with them or not, so I don’t bother informing them. That might be a maladaptive way of thinking, but so far I haven’t had much cause to question the notion, either.
Honestly, how is your heart lately? >> Beating.
Do you miss anyone? >> No.
Are you waiting for a phone call? >> No.
If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? >> I wouldn’t say anything. That’s their business, not mine.
What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? >> Hope that that person doesn’t go through what I went through. And if they do, hope that they have the presence of mind to leave sooner rather than later.
What do you think when someone kisses you on your forehead? >> First of all, who is doing that...
What do you usually do right when you wake up? >> Look at my phone to see what time it is.
Are you looking forward to anything? >> Yeah, playing WoW.
How late did you stay up last night? >> I got home at around a quarter past eleven, so I think I got to sleep shortly after midnight.
Do you truly hate anyone? >> No.
Would you ever get a tattoo? >> Of course.
In the past forty-eight hours, have you hung out with a girl? >> I hung out with a lot of people on Sunday.
Were you happy when you woke up today? >> Yes, very happy to be back in my warm comfortable bed and not in that janky loud motel.
If someone liked you, would you want them to tell you? >> I mean, it’s not going to change anything on my end, but I wouldn’t act weird about it if someone told me.
Would you rather go back a week or go forward? >> ---
Would you ever smile at a stranger? >> I’ve done so.
Who was the last person to text you? >> Sparrow.
What are you doing today? >> Playing video games, vegging out. Just enjoying being home.
Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? >> Not right now.
Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? >> Yeah, on purpose.
Have you ever been so bored that you started drooling on yourself? >> What...
Do you brush your teeth right away when you wake up? >> Not right away, but soon enough after.
Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? >> ---
Want to get smashed tonight? >> Nah, I’m good.
What time are you getting up tomorrow? >> I don’t know, whatever time I wake up.
Are you happy with the choices you’ve made? >> Like, throughout my entire life? Some were fine, some were mistakes, some don’t even register in my memory anymore.
Think back to last June; were you single? >> No.
Have you ever made someone laugh when they were crying? >> Probably. That’s my only method of consolation -- distraction.
Describe how you feel right now. >> Neutral.
Would you date someone three years older than you? >> ---
Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? >> In the morning.
Do you think more about the past, present, or future? >> The present.
Are you okay with the life you live? >> Sure.
Could you handle living with the last person you texted? >> I do live with the last person I texted.
Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? >> Everything I read is purely for my own interest/delight.
Have you accomplished any goals you set for yourself this year so far? >> The only “goal” I ever set is that Goodreads reading challenge, lmao. But even that’s just for fun -- if I don’t read 50 books in a year, it’s not like I consider myself a failure or something. Quantity doesn’t even mean anything. It’s just something to keep track of, I guess. (Also, when I do those end-of-year book surveys, it’s easier to just go look at my challenge because then I can see at a glance what books I read that year.)
If you could go forward in time and see your life 5 years from now, what would you hope to see? >> ---
Are there still movie rental stores where you live or have they all gone out of business? >> There’s one down the road from me, like a 10-minute walk. Family Video just refuses to go down without a fight, I guess. They jumped on the CBD bandwagon really fast, too -- revenue is revenue, I guess, lmao.
What was the last thing to annoy you or make you upset? >> When I realised I’d left my laptop and phone chargers in the motel room. *facepalm* Thank god for Amazon one-day shipping.
Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush/es assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? >> There were a lot of attractive people at Elle’s wedding.
When looking for something to watch on TV do you tend to pick shows you know you like, or try new shows that look interesting even though you’ve never heard of them before? >> Either. Just depends on what I’m in the mood for.
Have you ever been ditched by someone only to find them out and about with someone else? >> No.
How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? >> ---
What is the last song you sang out loud? >> I don’t remember.
Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? >> ---
Have you ever been fired from a job? >> No.
What do people tell you your voice sounds like? >> I don’t recall the last time anyone commented on my voice at all.
What financial class are you? >> Poverty class.
What poster is hanging closest to you? >> It’s not a poster, it’s an art print. It’s called “Heimdall” and that’s basically what it is, I guess. But very, very intricate and multilayered. One of those “stare at it for five hours and still see new things” kind of artwork.
What time did you go to bed last night? >> Sometime after midnight.
Do you watch any reality shows? >> Not regularly.
Are you more comfortable with men or women? >> ---
Do you think you’re fat? >> Sometimes I do. It’s all just societal bullshit, though, because I’m technically not fat (and it really shouldn’t even be a big deal if I was).
Have you ever borrowed money from someone and never repaid them? >> Probably.
Do you have a pet cat? >> Yeah.
What is worse: physical or emotional pain? >> I’m not going to rank one as “worse” than the other. Pain is pain.
If you had to get up at 6 AM tomorrow morning, would it be painful? >> Probably. It’s not my normal getting-up time.
How is your hair? >> Fine.
Who was the last person who called you? >> ---
How long does it take you to fall asleep at night? >> Not long, because I don’t go to bed until I feel good and sleepy.
How many people have you had strong feelings for in the year of 2012? >> You know what I had strong feelings for in 2012? Drugs.
What are you doing for your next birthday? >> I have no idea. Probably going to Chicago like usual, although the idea of going to Canada is still on the table if we can get passports by that time.
Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? >> Not unless it was explicitly understood that I am aromantic and this is a platonic outing.
Do you believe that if you want something bad enough, you’ll get it? >> Sometimes that narrative is fun to entertain.
Last movie you watched? >> The Nightingale.
Who were you with? >> Nobody.
Who came over last? >> ---
Have you ever wanted to be a ballet dancer? >> No.
Does your family keep tons of leftovers in the fridge? >> I do not.
Favourite FRIENDS character? That is, if you like it. >> ---
Skullcandy headphones, yay or nay? >> Yeah, I like them.
Are you thinking of getting another piercing? Where? >> No.
Do you love when people remember little things about you? >> Sure, it means people actually paid attention to me and cared enough to remember, which goes against some of my less helpful self-talk.
Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? >> No.
How many phones have you gone through? >> Too many.
Have you always lived in the house you currently reside in? >> No.
Do you think your future will be a good one? >> ---
2 notes · View notes
summysparklesprocket · 6 years ago
Text
Healing
( RP’d in discord with @kelzthalassunwhisper )
Night quickly swept over the expanse of Stormwind City, causing shadows to grow in the alleys and streets. Even though the City Guard was out and monitoring the place, it felt strangely peaceful. Perhaps it was the false sense of security most occupants felt due to the many veterans living in the city. Beyond the Dwarven District’s stone wall was a stretch of greenery that had recently been used for King Anduin’s contingency point. You could see water pooling into a small lake at the base of one of the buildings. Kneeling by these waters was a druid covered in ceremonial leathers with green iridescent crests that complemented the Mother Moon. While she was a Kaldorei, she appeared much smaller than ordinary female elves; though her meek smaller form compensated for something else. A grace that was generally gifted to disguised dragons cultivated her features and expression. A gentle breeze swept by her as she raised her cowl to hide her features. Her moonlit eyes searched for the approaching visitor who was surely coming to see her.
The visitor, a little gnome who was unaware she was expected, had been on her nightly walk. Wearing a hooded dark cloak, she walked quickly despite her exhaustion from a mixture of insomnia and PTSD. The park was one of her favorite places to walk when she felt this way. It was nicely lit, and she didn’t have to worry as much about who else was in the area because she knew some of the guards. However, tonight was different because she had a purpose for the walk. She was looking for someone.
Following behind the gnome, was a little Owl Kitten. At the moment, he was following behind obediently, but it was only a matter of time before his curiosity got the better of him. It lasted until the halfway point, before the kitten spontaneously leaped into a bush.
With a sigh, Summy stands outside the bush, tapping her foot impatiently as the bush ruffles, straining against the fight going on inside of it. After a few minutes, the gnome sheds her cloak and jumps into the bush. Within a few seconds, she comes out with the Owl Kitten, named Kal Mush’a, having a rat in his mouth.
“Proud of yourself?” Summy asks, staring at him.
Kal just makes a happy chirp as he wiggles out of Summy’s arms to eat his reward. It takes but a minute as the gnome shakes her head. She gathers up her cloak and puts it back on, before continuing on as Kal finishes his meal.
Ignoring the questioning looks from the guards from the events, she moved through the park swiftly. She made her way past the Cathedral and then walked swiftly into the Dwarven district. She smiled as she walked as this was one of her favorite districts. She just loved the familiar smells of hard work, smoke, and alcohol. It was late, so the district was quiet. This made it easy to find the person she was looking for.
“Oh, hey Fyarii! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it!” She yells up to the elf on the wall.
Moving towards him, she lowered the hood revealing her long light blue hair tied up in her signature pony-tail. She easily blinks herself onto the wall and sits next to the elf who smiles at her.
“It has been yes.” Fyarii said with a nod of her chin.  “I take it that you have something important to share with me?” She tilted her head curiously. Given the unexpected visit, she was really interested in what Summy had to share with her.
“How do you do that?” Summy pouted as she quickly realized Fyarii had seen through her. “Cog damn it.”
She sighed as she looked back towards the fountain. She shook her head as she absently rubbed her right arm with her left.
“You see Bennas ordered me to seek out therapy. And well, I’ve heard that’s something you excel at. So, well… could you help me out please? Or do you know someone who could help me out?”
The druid offered a comforting smile. “If I said it was intuition, it wouldn’t be the truth. I’ve just been around for a really long time and I’ve developed a refined sense for these things.” She noted Summy’s demeanor and studied her quietly, much like a friend might when someone was hurting. “I would be happy to help you. Come walk with me.”
Together they blink off the wall and walk slowly through the city. For the elf, the pace is slow and measured. Fyarii walks slowly to give herself time to think of what she is going to say to Summy. She picks her words carefully as they make their way towards the gates of the city.
The gnome was in another state however. For her, the pace was about average, perhaps a bit of a fast walk, but this too was normal given her small stature at two foot six. Her brain was quite different as it was going a mile a minute as she realized she was likely going to have to face the problems that had been plaguing her for so long. She knew therapy was a good thing, but it was going to be difficult to face everything. She knew she was likely overthinking things, but at the same time she couldn’t help or stop herself from doing it.
As the two walked quietly, the city gave way to the Elwynn Forest that surrounded the city. The forest was asleep, much like the city. The two could hear a couple nocturnal creatures out and about, going about their business, but otherwise all was quiet. It was here when the elf finally spoke.
“In order for this session to be as effective as possible, I ask for your cooperation solely. This will not be easy, as I suspect you have a great many pains that need to be healed.”
“Okay.” Summy responds with a sigh. Her stare moves to the floor. “I will do my best. Just, the way I’ve dealt with everything was by pretending it didn’t happen and repressing it. So, I don’t know how much there is.”
“I understand. Healing is about exploring yourself and understanding what will dissuade those distractions.” Once outside Fyarii turn to Summy and knelt before her. “So, before we begin, give me an idea of what you’re feeling, as honestly as you can.”
Her stare doesn’t shift from its spot on the floor as she takes a long moment to think before speaking. “Well, recently depressed, self-hatred. Usually I can work through it with tinkering, working, reading, or whatever I feel like doing.”
Summy pauses again, thinking through her words. She shakes her head as she finally shifts her gaze to the left. With a deep sigh, she finally speaks. “It’s the worst when it’s quiet. Suicidal sometimes. I’ve been staying at Summerfast, the Bennas estate, at his request because he doesn’t trust me to be alone, as he shouldn’t.”
“I see.” With a nod towards the gnome, she shifts her hand towards the base of the other’s feet. The patch of dirt there was clear from blades of grass as she spoke. “Well, as nature goes… we have our up’s and down’s. The environment constantly shifts and alters the course in which we prosper. You are just in need of finding your foundation again.” A green hue illuminated from her hand as a buried seed began to rise and sway beneath her palm in a shape of a healthy stem.
“I’m confused.” She quirks an eyebrow at the elf, as she tries to hide her feelings of failure. It had been quite some time since she had thought about all these things. Between work, being social, and all the wars, she hadn’t given herself the time. It had been intentional. However, now that she was being forced to sit and think about everything, her brain was in a rush to figure out what was happening. After a few moments, she gives up and just looks at the other, a defeated look in her eyes.
“It’s okay. Perhaps it would be better for me to show you?” She leaned back on her feet and looked to Summy. She could tell the gnome was upset. “Here, let us try a simple exercise.” She reaches into her pouch and offers a small seed to her. “Can you plant this for me?”
“Uh… okay.” Taking the seeds into her hands, she kneels next to the seed that Fyarii had just planted, digs a little hole and plants the seed. She covers it up and then looks up at Fyarii. “Like that? I’m still confused.” She admits, as her emotions still cloud her thoughts.
“Right, that’s okay.” She nodded and watched as Summy prepared a place for the seed in the soil, offering a sympathetic smile as she did so. “Now… what is something that made you happy? Something that kept you uplifted before you felt down?”
“Uh, tinkering mostly. It still helps me clear my mind, tinkering, practicing or researching the arcane. Working on something and having something to do with my hands helps me clear my mind.” She shrugs. “Reading too. So, learning and stuff as well, I guess.” She then looks down at the plant. “I’m still unsure how the plant is involved.”
The seed responds to her sincerity. A small vine pokes through the surface and curls beneath her hand.
“This is a magical seed. It projects how you grow and prosper. The seed is essentially an iteration of you.” Fyarii responds, as she watches the seed.
Summy emits a squeak as the vine curls beneath her hand. She hadn’t been paying attention to it, but as she inspects the seed, her confusion doesn’t yield. As she examines the plant, recovering from her shock of the quick grown spurt, her head tilts slightly. Her eyebrows furrow as she gets frustrated with her incompetency to understand it. “Is it actually an iteration of me? Its beginning is going too well it looks. My beginning was awful.” Her tone also showing how frustrated she was getting with herself.
“Your childhood could still be terrible, but you rooted yourself and continued to survive. This is a sign of that.” Fyarii shifted eagerly. “Now then, what is it that clouds you so? That deters you from enjoying your days?”
“I guess…” Summy sighs as she shifts her weight around uncomfortably. The explanation helped calm her down. She noticed that her body shifted, and her shoulders drooped down.  Her eyes sank slightly as her sadness threatened to overtake her once again. Her thoughts changed from frustration to understanding to realizing where she went after she survived.
“Well, I-I ruined so many lives. And even now I can’t seem to get anything right. I always get injured to the point where they have a bed for me specifically in the hospital. I just don’t understand why everyone seems to trust me.” She feigns a smile as she looks up at the elf, before shrugging her shoulders and continuing. “I pretend to be happy and stuff and everyone loves me when I’m faking confidence. I just don’t actually feel it.”
“It’s okay to be sad, Summy. The most important thing is to be true to your feelings. You’re performing a disservice to yourself and peers by keeping it inside. Perhaps I could help you mitigate harm with some potions or the sort? Maybe a spell? Because if you run into that problem less, you won’t have to hide how you feel.” As she explains this, Fyarii leans forward, placing a hand on the gnome’s shoulder to keep her head about her.
The hand helps slightly, as Summy sighs deeply as she looks up at the elf. She responds with a shrug. “Is it though? I’ve been annoyed with myself for so long. Always just distracting myself, smoked, or on occasion drank, to try to deal. Sometimes I would just work long hours to keep from going home, to at least be useful.”
She attempted a smile, but it was weak and faded just as quickly. She turned her gaze to the side as she continued. “Facing it was too painful. It was just easier to fake it, and eventually the fake happiness became real-ish.” Pausing a moment, she then realizes what Fyarii meant by potions. “That could work. She perks up initially, but as she thinks, she droops down more and more until she’s back to her depressed state. “But I deserve all of this from the shit I’ve done in the past.”
“It is okay to be sad.” Fyarii affirms, trying to push past the sadness that has surrounded the gnome. “Let’s give it a shot though.” She then reaches into her satchel and began to collect several herbs. “What kind of flowers do you like?” She asks Summy with a smile.
“Uh…” the gnome blinks in surprise. That had been the last question she had expected. “I’ve never thought about that. I guess some blue or white ones. Since my hair and eyes are light blue, it’s became my favorite color.” Summy explains as she perks up a bit.
Fyarii nods as she puts several herbs together and sets them aside. From what Summy could tell, it seemed she was collecting icecap, dreamfoil, and a black lotus. Then she procured a small mortar and pedastool. Gingerly, she laid the herbs in the basin and began a soft incantation. Each herb illuminated a light green before Fyarii began to grind them.
“Summy, could you tell me one thing that comforts you the most?”
The gnome, who had zoned out while watching the elf’s process, took a few moments before she responded. “Uh, I dunno. Do you mean an activity, a person, an animal, something in general?”
“Anything, if not all things.” Fyarii responds calmly. The mixture seems fluid now, offering gelatinous goo.
“Uh, then my girlfriend Pin, Bennas, Malien, tinkering, reading, and my owl kitten who’s right here.” The kitten, Kal Mush’a, who, as the name Owl Kitten suggests, is a mix of the two. His body is shaped to that of a kitten while his face is a mix of a cat and owl. His fur is dominantly a dark gray. He chirps as the gnome scoops him up and responds by happily licking her face.
Another incantation is started as she enchants the potion, causing it to glow a radiant blue. The mortar is then gingerly tilted over a vial as the elf offers it to Summy. “This is a luck potion, specifically blended for you. It can also be treated as an antidepressant.”
Blinking at the potion, Summy quirks a brow and tilts her head slightly as she analyzes it. “Luck potion? Does it make me feel luckier or is it actually luckier? She sniffs the potion as she finishes the question.
“Both. It’s been blessed in the way of the ancients. An ancient tongue. As well as with a hint of power from the emerald dragonflight.” Fyarii nodded as she explained and poured another vial full.
“Oh, I could use some luck honestly. You want me to drink it?” She sniffs it one more time. “Smells good actually…” She begins to say before slamming her right hand into her face. “Dunno what I expected considering it’s a blend of flowers and herbs.” She says before sighing deeply and shaking her head.
Fyarii laughed somewhat at Summy’s minor hiccup, before nodding at her while lifting her head to observe her. “Yes. Drinking it would be a good start. I’ll be sure to make a decent supply. One vial a day should definitely strengthen your confidence and resolve.”
Nodding in reply to the elf, the gnome takes a swig of the vial. She blinks as she waits a moment, unsure of what’s going to happen. “How long until it takes effect?” She stares off into space trying to feel the potion. “So, I’ll see you once a day to get my dose I assume?”
“It doesn’t take long,” she replies before closing the second vial and offering it to Summy. “It would be best, yes. However, I’m not done with your therapy.” She rises to her feet and gestures to the scenery around them. “Is there a place you like to visit?”
“I assume this one is for later?” the gnome questions as she grabs the second vial. When she sees the elf nod at her, she follows up with a second question. “So, what will I feel anyway?” She looks around at the scenery, thoroughly enjoying it before continuing. “Uh, I’ve visited lots of places already. So, I dunno.” She shrugs her shoulders, turning to the elf.
“Yes, the second vial is for later.” She said first before looking to the gnome. “You might feel an abundance of warmth, but the rest I can’t really say. These herbs in combination can have different effects. And it also depends on the species that consumes it.” Fyarii frowns a Summy’s answer in regard to location and gestured to the vastness of the woods around them just outside Stormwind’s walls. “Nothing here appeals to you?”
Summy nods as she hears about the side effects. “Makes sense. Maybe it’ll increase my urge to tinker or something.” She shrugs before looking around at the woods. “Besides, I walk around these woods all the time. I’m also really not in the mood at the moment honestly.”
“That’s fair enough.” Fyarii responds with a gentle smile. “Well, I think my therapy for now is concluded. Unless there is more you wish to share?”
“I don’t think so. Not at the moment anyway.” She nods to Fyarii as she looks at the bottle again. “Thanks, by the way for this. When are we talking again?”
“When you feel ready, though as for daily visits- you may elect when is best. I am usually residing in these woods.” She reached into the pouch and pulled out a single leaf. “This is a leaf whistle. It has been enchanted by me. So, when you blow on it, I shall hear it.”
“Okie dokie.” Summy nods as she takes the leaf. “I should start a collection of the communicators to contact specific people at this point.” She smiles lightly as she looks up at her. “Okie dokie. So, I’ll see you tomorrow then? And how about once a week minimum?”
“For now, I think it depends on the progress you make. We can negotiate after we see some improvement, Summy.” Fyarii smiles warmly and waved the Gnome off.
“Okay. If it gets bad again I’ll contact you? The gnome looks up at Fyarii as she turns to walk away. “Like, if the suicidal thoughts return?”
“Yes, I would ask that you contact me with any issue, Summy.” She didn’t really elect to acknowledge hearing that last part, but she frowned slightly upon watching the gnome depart.
Summy nods. “Okie dokie. With the drink I don’t think it’ll be that bad, but we’ll see. It comes and goes more than I’ve let on.” She shrugs before beginning to walk off.
Fyarii tilts her head. It was peculiar to see the gnome wrestle with her internal conflict in such a forward way. A part of her hoped that her recovery would be swift. Otherwise she could see the likelihood of insanity surface without much trouble.
Looking down the road, Summy walked away. However, she suddenly stops and disappears, reappearing in front of Fyarii, hugging her legs. “Thank you Fyarii.” She says lovingly, before disappearing completely.
Fyarii raises her eyebrow and tilts her head at Summy stopping and disappearing. She doesn’t even need to wait a moment before she blinks in surprise when the gnome is hugging her legs. “You’re-“ she was about to finish her sentence when the mage simply vanished. “….welcome.”
14 notes · View notes
kendrixtermina · 8 years ago
Text
5w4 Gothic
- You drop a 3 word latin sentence in causual conversation. At the prompt of your mildly confused co-worker, you try and translate it to english, and it becomes seven words, except, you realize, those couldn’t possibly suffice to precisely encapsulate what the sentence means in its original contexts, how exactly it fits into your conversation and how much thought you put into picking out the most fitting description for the subject matter. They ask you to explain in your own words; You paraphrase, and suddenly, the sentence becomes an entire paragraph. You try to say “hammer”, but out comes “manual, multidirectional short-term pressure device”. Your co-worker gives you a long, silent look whose meaning you can’t discern. You wish faces were as easy to read as latin.
- You’re never sure if you’re hungry, having a sad, or dying of cancer. You assign each possibility percentages and keep them updated through your day. 
- Over time, you have found that you absorb information best when it’s presented to you as a logical, self-contained explanation. Some things are often explained that way; Other topics, not so much. For example, how to talk to people without somehow pissing them off. You’re getting a little frustrated - Why don’t people just explain these things to you? More importantly: Where is everyone else getting this information from, since they don’t seem to have that problem? This might merit further investigation. 
- “We only remember 30% of a given text” . You remember your teacher saying it, and you’ve read articles than confirm it; At the time, you speculated that your rate must be subtly higher, and that it may have been a ploy to get you to put up with all the boring repetition. Only during your last introspection session did the true horror dawn on you; You thought that the more you read, the more you absorbed, the more you would know, but that is not so. Time eats on your precious reserves, every night, bits and pieces are sorted out by some arcane algorithm; Even without counting the horrors of sleep and the odd drunken blackout, you probably do not recall most of your life. Yet, your neurotic habit of feeding yourself with random trivia does not cease, but you are now aware of the futile, consumerist nature of your endeavors. You take a scientific magazine, shove it in one ear, and wait to it to come out the other. You are torn between chiding yourself for that gross violation of anatomy and admiring the beauty of that metaphor. 
- You heard your boyfriend making noise in the living room, walking back and forth, grabbing what sounds like china and also the door hinge. Is he grabbing the leftovers, or making something for himself? Is he not satisfied with the quality of your cooking? Does he wish that it be served at more regular frequencies? You want to leave him his freedom because you believe in retaining yours, but you’re forced to stifle the stupid irrational displeasure over the sense that one of your skills is being questioned. You want to offer to cook, to prove that you can do it right, but you also really don’t feel like cleaning up the kitchen first; But giving up a duty that you took upon yourself seems like admitting incompetence. He suggests getting a dishwasher; You say that it seems to be overkill for two people, but as you have no rational reason to protest, you end it with, “Well, it’s your money.” You hope he will not demand that you talk to you again today
- You live in a hamster cage. You think it is elegant and functional and like how the water tube looks sciencey. The first time someone said it, it could be dismissed as a fluke, but by now, you’re forced to conclude that your appartment is considered “small”. You do not think it is small. You think it’s just large enough. Why do they think you would want a larger one? You never nagged them with such a demand and in fact made sure to assure them that you are perfectly satisfied, though perhaps not enthusiastically; Then again, it’s not like such enthusiasm would have been warranted over a simple room.
- One day, you realize that you have never cried at a movie. That schocks you, albeit mildly and vaguely. You fear for your Angsty Deep Person credentials. You do not understand. After all, you care a lot about fictional universes. You spend all day analyzing their brilliance and playing out fanfic scenarion in your head.  Eventually, you slightly tear up as you rewatching an episode of your favorite Sci Fi schow in the middle of the night, in your room, by yourself.  You consider that a sucess. 
- As a child, you were nicknamed as the “walking Dictionary” on at least three separate occasions. What they do not realize is that every time they said that, it drove a sharp icicle into your fragile little heart. Yet, some warped sort of pride keeps you bringing up this incident. Perhaps it might be relevant or useful to someone? Or so you delude yourself. 
- You change your current obsession to “enneagram”. It’s almost like one of these edutainment games that combines something hard(peopling) with something fun (theoriring.) You furrow your brow as you read the description.  do not think you’re a minimalist; There is, after all, a poster of the periodic system on your wall and an anime figurine next to your laptop. 
- You once spent sixty full minutes rambling to your classmates about some awesome thing related to your curent obsession. There are stars in your eyes, and there is life in your animated gestures. You move with confidence because you know exactly what to do. You feel as if that is one of those moments where you are most yourself.   Later, your teacher informs you that no one was listening or caring,  and that you are selfish for speaking about rambling on about that no one else is interested in. You do not talk to your classmates again. 
- You don’t know why that is, but people just don’t like you. Wherever you go, you stand out. You don’t now what causes it or how to prevent it. “Oh, do you suddenly have feelings too?” says one person. “Yeah you have a lot up here, but nothing here *points at chest*” says another.  You’re confused and uncertain. You only wanted to share something that you loved. You only wanted to inform others of something you would want to know. You’re supposed to treat others as you want to be treated, right? Besides, to have a place in this world, you must be useful somehow, right? You want very bad to be useful. You are bad at many things, and doing the one thing you can do apparently makes you arrogant. You wonder what else you are supposed to do. You are good for nothing else. 
- You join the local theatre group and attach yourself to the subset of it that is planning to do a satre play. You always wanted to do Satre, the philosophy and concepts interest you, and it has a nice, deep intellectual touch to it, basically your jam. You don’t look into any of the other groups as you don’t feel that interested in a romcom and are very certain that you want to be in this one.  A few weeks in, the group leader pulls you aside-  “Your style of acting does not match my vision”, he says. “Besides, I don’t think you really felt at home in our group, I’ve noticed that you always sit a little apart. Perhaps, maybe you’ll feel better in a different group?” You did not feel unwelcome.  You really liked the group. Your opinion of everyone in it is vaguely positive. You had no opinion on “group dynamics” at all because you were focussed on theater.   You respect his decision as it is based on objective fact and loyalty to his artistic vision. You just wish he had just told you that you suck without making it sound like he was doing you a favor. You want to tell him that you enjoyed your time with the group, but the words won’t come out in your mouth and you are frozen solid in the doorway.
- But hell is others
- You don’t want to be one of these clingy girlfriends everyone complains of, but unfortunately, he’s a social-first ESFJ and this is before you knew typology.  You’ve read that men have to have enough free space. He asks you to write and talk more, and you try, but you don’t know what about. You attempted long, deep-onversation letters earlier, but he responded with vague one-liners, even when you tried to referrence the topics you saw him discussing on his facebooks and the radio shows he listens to. You wonder if you are annoying him. Your feeble efforts matter little as he accuses you of not caring about him and tells you that he never had such problems with a girl before. He doesn’t say “freak” but the world is there. You conclude that the golden rule is bullshit.
- You don’t understands why he keeps e-mailing you after the breakup. It makes no logical sense. You broke up for good reasons, and its not like those will magically dissapear because you take him beck. You are puzzled. What could his objective be? You delete all the emails. He probably tells all his friends. 
- Even your best relationship involved you once being compared to a robot at least once. Illuminated by the eerie light of your computer screen in the darkened, you turn back to look at him from under the tangle of cables and wires poking out of your skin and reply “Does not compute.” He’s not sure if you replied to him, or to whoever you were currently talking with in cyberspace.
- You would argue that you have a lot of feelings, but then, there come those rare occasions when you actualy talk to people. The documentary you’re watching includes a shot of a decapitated corpse, mudered by her jealous ex-husband amid a mix of very interesting socipolitical factors. “Fascinating.” you mumble. The 1w9 beside you is audibly gagging. 
- You mostly eat or sleep when your hunger or tiredness reach a level that impacts your concentration. You have not seen the sun in days. You begin to wonder if it even still exists and concoct an elaborate esoteric theory to explain its dissapearance.
- You are lowkey jealous of people who have calloused hands from their work or specific patterns of muscles from their favorite sport. Not because you remotely like sport, but because it’s evidence of their dedication and devotion. to their passion.  The evidence of your dedication is all in your head, and you wonder if that is also true in the figuratice sense. You phantasize at lenght about being an outwardly human-looking cyborg.
- On TV, everyone who talks like you turns out to be an alien or an android. You read through forum discussions where everyone calls them “plot devices” with “no personality”. You would apparently do better to like a “real girl”, like that super-atractive popular 3w4 teen prodigy for example. You delight in the knowledge that you are apparently imaginary, and ponder the philosophical implications of that. 
- Your mind is like a sieve - not a regular sieve, but a molecular one, the kind that only allows passage to certain substances and selectively retains others. When you can’t remember your appointments or the names of your classmates, you tell them you have a bad memory, but how are you going to explain how you manage to remember all that random trivia? Far too late, it dawns on you that people think you do not care. You do not precisely grasp what you ability to remember a few words or numbers has to do with caring. You
- At least your cacti understand you. 
- You think, therefore you are. You try to explain to people that if you did sports, or small talk, or watch a romcom, or do everything else they keep nagging you to do, you would dissapear. Despite your flawless logical reasoning, people do not seem to believe you. Then, someone disrupts your cncentration, and you scatter into a cloud of Sea Foam, little mermaid style
- You seem to have misplaced your body. You’re not sure where it was when it happened, but you’re certain that your mind was drifting about the edge of the galaxy at the time, or perhaps in that book about ancient athens. If only you could make it back to a time and place where your friends existed, you might possess one of them and write them a note, but they’d only think that you’re an useless child who can’t handle their shit, so it’s probably good that you don’t have any friends. 
- You cannot make a sound, and you must scream. Your mouth works perfectly fine, but the are now as distant to you as the stars, and your memory of when this wasn’t so is just as far back as their time-shifted illusions that you once saw in the sky. But since you can think the sound, actually making it is clearly optional
- Clearly, you see only two logical possibilities here: Either Cthulhu is real and you have just fulfilled your life-long dream of meeting him, or you have gone fully and completely bonkers for perfectly ordinary reasons like severe trauma or an oopsie-daisy in your brain chemistry. You hope it was Cthulhu.  Your only regret is that you will never find out the truth.
- Where did you come from, and where are you going? You do not know, and because you don’t know, you cannot understand. You have no framework with which to decide where you are now - You might as well be curled up in an old abandoned fallout shelter, drifting at sea in an abadoned ship, or deep undergound in a glacial ravine, with nothing but ice and rock in every direction. You cower all alone, in the endless vastness of time and space, and the flimsy, ephemeral chunk of soul canned in your stinky, decaying flesh is awash with awe of the merciless void, so filled with the magnitude of your own insignifance that you cannot think or feel anything else; There’s not even enough room for that little, distant voice that usually watches and comments on your misadventures with surprising rationality. Whatever lies outside your frail, enclosed chysalis, you finally realize in full just how badly you are terrified of it. Your entire soul consists of nothing else. What were you, originally, before you tried to contain the horrors of the universe in your tiny little head? What are you now, that it refused to fit inside, what are you but this single, naked consciousness?
37 notes · View notes