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miss-tc-nova · 3 years ago

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I Have Two - G’raha Tia x WoL

Yes, I’m still on about G’raha and the minions. No, I don’t care. It’s funny.

PS: I’m sorry about the dumb WoL. That’s just honestly how I imagine my WoL to be.

Also! Partly inspired by THIS AWESOME POST by Lady Ramora. She has some great FFXIV content over there.

~~~~~

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to do this,” I say.

Despite my hesitations, the Viis shoves the box into my hands. “Of course. The people of the Crystarium have been looking for a way to show their appreciation for all you’ve done and Bragi insists that this should be excellent recompense.” She smiles, placing a smaller box on top. “And this one’s for the Exarch. Pardon, I meant to say…‘G’raha.’”

It’s sweet to see her bashful side. Since the “ex-arch” returned to the Source, he and Lyna have become pen-pals. As he’s learning to become more himself, Lyna has been breaking down the wall of formality that she built out of respect. Because the two were close over the years, I happily volunteered—meaning I was the only one able—to be their delivery moogle.

“I’ll ensure he receives it safely.” Taking the small, single package, I pass it to the little figure at my side, who diligently takes said box. While I smile, Lyna gives me a questioning look and I have to explain, “He’s less likely to trip than I am.”

“I see,” she laughs. “Then I wish you safe travels with minimal tripping. And thank you again for carrying my letters to the Source.”

“I don’t mind at all. And I promise to be a bit quicker with G’raha’s next letter.”

She nods and waves as I step through the Ocular portal that whisks me away to the Source.

The trek from the Crystal Tower to Revenant’s Toll is relatively peaceful, with only a few mishaps, but I didn’t even land on my face this time. So with both boxes intact, I push my way into the Rising Stones.

The home of the Scions is surprisingly quiet today; in fact, not even Tataru is here. There is, however, still someone to hold down the fort, and he happens to be my sweet, red-headed boyfriend.

“Hey sweetheart,” I greet.

His ruby eyes jump from his paper and that smile warms my heart. “Welcome back, my love. How were things in Norvrandt?”

“Doing great!” I reply, placing my sizable box upon a near by table. “Trade is thriving and they’re working on expanding bit by bit into The Empty. The Crystarium was very lively.”

“What’s that?” A hand gestures to my gift.

“Dunno. Apparently the people of the Crystarium have been trying to find a way to ‘repay’ me for everything.” He tilts his head. “I tried to tell Lyna that it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted.”

“They are a stubborn people,” he hums.

“Yeah…Oh, Mi’raha has one for you as well,” I say, pointing to the smaller box held by the little doll.

“Ah, thank you,” he says to the small figure. It’s taken him ages to adjust to its presence, but he’s finally beginning to see it as something not to be jealous of. “What is it?”

“Don’t know that either. It’s from Lyna so I entrusted it to Mi’raha.”

“Ah, didn’t trust yourself not to drop it?” he chuckles.

“Not one bit.”

He tugs at the ribbon and carefully slides the lid off. His eyes light up and he pulls a fabric from the box.

As G’raha plays with his new scarf, I turn to my own box. Inside, a stack of papers greets me, a crudely drawn portrait of myself holding hands with several children sitting on top. Behind it are more drawings and letters from other citizens. I even got a letter from Ryne and Gaia. A smile creeps onto my face as I go through them. Too bad I can’t read. I’ll just have to make G’raha read them to me later.

And then I find the object at the bottom, the reason the box is so large. I gasp, lungs filling with air that comes back out in an excited squeal.

G’raha looks up from his letter from Lyna. “What is it, love?”

He sets the paper aside to investigate while I fling paper padding out of the box. Hoisting the toy from the box, I squish it in a nearly bone-crushing hug. Thank goodness it doesn’t have any bones.

On the other hand, G’raha’s expression falls, turning into a mix of horror and disappointment.

“No…”

“He’s adorable and beautiful and perfect and I love him!” I exclaim all in one breath, hopping in circles in excitement.

He sighs. “They promised me they wouldn’t make a mammet in my image.” As I set the doll down on the floor and wind it up, he reaches into the box for a card at the bottom. “Oh, they didn’t. This is clearly a ‘Wind-Up Mystel.’” The tone says he is not at all disillusioned by the name.

The small automaton clicks, jerking to life before his movement smooths out. He looks up at me with his crimson eyes and blinks. Still giddy, I run a hand between his ears, which he simply endures.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?” I coo.

“My dear, you already have a mammet that follows you around. Surely you don’t need another.”

“Look at him! Of course I do!”

The original figure, one I’ve had for a few years now, looks at the newer one. They stare at each other, unfazed, until the first sticks his hand out. When the second doesn’t respond, Mi’raha takes his hand and shakes it before letting it drop.

G’raha asks, “Did he just shake hands?”

“Yeah. He does that when he meets other automatons.”

“I didn’t realize they were programmed to greet each other.”

“They’re not, at least not like that. I think he learned it.”

“What?”

“It’s true. The other day I caught him yawning.”

“But…they don’t even breathe.”

“I know! He yawned because I yawned and now he yawns every time I do! Watch!” Looking down at the dolls, I fake a yawn. A second later, Mi’raha yawns. “See!”

“Oh my gods.”

“I don’t think he understands what he’s doing. I think he’s just copying what he sees for…I don’t know, solidarity?”

“Fascinating. But you’ve had several alterations done on Mi’raha haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Poor guy’s been through a lot following me around so he’s been modified to withstand more than your standard mammet. I’ll have to do the same for the other if he’s to survive even a few weeks.”

“What sort of modifications have been done?”

“Cid upgraded most of the insides to stronger metals and Mutamix made me a materia that would work as a core. And I was able to commission Tataru to make him a better outfit that didn’t tear so easily.”

“Wait, materia?”

“Yeah, so he wouldn’t need me to wind him up frequently. And getting Cid to design a mechanism that accepted the power source wasn’t cheap. But not losing him in the field because he lost power and I didn’t notice was well worth it.”

G’raha passes a disbelieving hand through his hair. “My dear, you gave your toy a soul.”

“What?”

“Well, part of a soul I suppose. Materia is made in part by soul energy.”

“Oh, I think Mutamix did say something about that.” G’raha gives me a sheepish look. “No wonder my little buddy is better than all the others out there. And now I have two!”

My boyfriend sighs. “Twelve help me.”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Raha?” I hum, turning on him to wrap my arms around his neck. Immediate gratification works through me when his ears flicker and a blush bleeds across his nose. “I thought you were over being jealous of mammets.”

“I’m n-not jealous at all.” His stammer easily betrays him.

“Good.” My fingers twirl through his hair. “I would hate for you to misunderstand. Wouldn’t you agree that having a partner that has more than a single mammet in your image—that are so dearly loved—would be one of the highest forms of flattery?”

“Is that what you think?” He’s straining to keep his flustering contained.

“If I love these small imitations so much—” I lean closer, my lips ghosting his, “—just imagine how much I must love you.”

“More than the imitations?” he asks in a mesmerized whisper.

A thumb brushes against the blushing cheek. “Beyond the First and back.”

There’s a bit of that cheeky demeanor—part of his old self that he’s clung to—glinting in his eyes. “Ah well, for you that’s not very far, now is it.”

I roll my eyes just before I close the gap. Ever eager to follow his hero’s lead, he bends and gives to every silent demand—of which I have many. And while he’s come a long way from being that reckless dreamer he used to be, a quick nip or coy swipe of his tongue easily sends my heart fluttering. Yes, he may play the part of the toy very well, but there’s no denying that G’raha can just as easily have me like flan in his fingers if so desired.

But that’s better saved for private quarters—lest the Warrior of Light lose face, as he so mischievously puts it.

A soft click breaks the kiss, leaving us both in a breathy wake. By now, even I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but I couldn’t care less.

“Still doubt me?”

He grins. “I never doubted you for a second, my love. But I do appreciate such affection as often as I can get it.”

I shove the man away. “Oh my gods.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” The Miqo’te pulls me back by the arm. “It was a simple jest.” A forehead kiss makes for proper atonement. “I’m honored that you love me so dearly.”

“Good. Don’t you ever doubt my love for you.”

“My apologies.” He seems a bit reluctant to let me go, but allows it.

“Now, I need to see if Cid can do some upgrades for me.”

I turn back to the automatons and freeze. The new one simply stands there, eyes blank as it stares straight ahead. Mi’raha, on the other hand, has the newcomer by his little robe and is in the midst of making out with him.

Immediately, I slap a hand across my awestruck grin while G’raha falls back into full blown panic. “What are you—NOOO!”

As he rushes for the pair, the man’s foot snags the table, sending him to the floor. That doesn’t seem to impede his mission though, as he scrambles to his feet to get at them. Snatching Mi’raha by the back of his shirt, he tears the brazen doll away from the Mystel figure.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” he shouts, shaking the unfazed mammet.

My uncontainable snicker catches his mortified attention. “Mayhap I am the one who should have been jealous all along.”

“Remove it! For Twelve’s sake, please remove the materia!”

I take Mi’raha to place him on the table. “And kill his little spirit? I don’t think so.”

Hands drag down a defeated face. “Sweetheart, please. Why do you insist on keeping a puppet designed to embarrass me?”

“I don’t.” A brow quirks at me. “I have two.”

“If Y’shtola sees them, I shall never live this down.”

“I’ll make sure to note how adorable you are on your headstone.”

He’s not amused. “Thank you for the reassurance.”

“No problem.”

As if summoned by our very words, the door to the Rising Stones opens. In come a few of our comrades, headed by the ruthless woman herself.

“Shtola!” I start for the group. “Look what I got!”

“NOOO!”

~~~~~

Nova’s Final Fantasy Masterlist

#G'raha Tia #g'raha/wol #g'raha x reader #g'raha x wol #gender neutral reader

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nozomikei · 6 years ago

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Oblivious

Aymeric x ambiguous WoL (nsfw)

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This is a companion piece to @ladyramora's fanfic found in this linked post, and is set sometime between Aymeric starting to think they're courting and Ramora's fic: Please read this awesomeness

Although you could technically read my story without the other it would remove a major (funny) aspect and you would be missing out on a wonderful fic by an amazing writer I admire. A small deviation is that the wol from their fic is ambiguous but leaning towards female, while mine is solidly anything you'd like to imagine.

I'm shy about sharing my amateur, nsfw writing but also proud of how it came out! ☺️ I only occasionally write for fun so I would prefer not to receive any constructive criticism or writing tips unless I solicit them, thank you~ ♡

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Aymeric had watched his beautiful warrior throughout their dinner, ever alert for any sign that they would care to take things further that evening. Though that was not to say that he hadn't simultaneously been eagerly listening to their every word detailing their latest adventures throughout the realm as well.

His precious partner was so effortlessly enticing, sexy with no apparent effort, and the deeper his feelings and attraction grew the more it affected him during their dates like this. Aymeric restrained himself from ever outright asking for more physical interactions though, as he knew his lover's tendency to try to fulfill any request given to them and he would never want them to feel obligated. At this point he was willing to take on Nidhogg himself though if it would mean even a single chaste kiss.

Though the thought of it had warmed his cheeks with embarrassment on later reflection, Aymeric admittedly couldn't always make himself refrain acting a bit 'slutty', as the less than noble ladies of the Brume would call it, when they talked in an effort to entice them. Often his love would seem initially enraptured but within moments they would appear to brush off their own feelings and return to their version of normal.

This evening his warrior had practically glowed as they recounted their previous week and its marketboard steals, new friendships, exciting hunts, and detailed descriptions of the gear worn by masters of a type of ranged weaponry they had just learned of; some sort of dance related thing from Thavnair. Aymeric found himself imagining them in the outfit, and being taken out of it as well. Their cheeks flushed as they were now with excitement and the wine. Both of their bodies dancing slowly and sensuously, sliding against one another between his cool sheets...

'Shit-', he had let himself get too carried away and his darling had stopped recounting the flexibility of the dancers and instead looked worriedly over the table at him and asked if he was alright. He gave them a breathy vague reassurance as he tried to will his face to cool and the images their mentions of flexibility had brought to go away until a time his courageous partner wasn't sharing their stories. His dick continued to throb in his breeches when they picked up where they had left off. He adjusted himself under the table, unable to resist briefly palming and squeezing the half hardened flesh through the fine fabric, and wished it was their hands instead of his own.

As the evening grew later it looked as though once again he would be left with only wonderful stories and a full stomach and Aymeric couldn't deny the curl of frustration with himself he felt for not being patient and desiring more from his obviously unready partner.

Helping his manservant with the dinner cleanup, as much as the proud man would allow, and sending him on his way for the night, Aymeric made for his own bedroom.

Climbing under the heavy bedclothes and settling in, his mind returned to its earlier fantasies about the Thavnairian clothing and his limber lover (they had subtly bragged that they could match the dancing fighters for flexibility). The sudden return to the arousing thoughts made his dick twitch and his breath catch before he settled into building up the fantasy and reached down to take himself in hand.

Initially he had held himself back ftom this, worried that it would be disrespectful, but as the weeks passed he decided to give into this lesser evil over growing desperate, possibly acting too needy and inadvertently pressuring his noble warrior of light into bed.

Would he be in control this time or would his warrior...? Aymeric lightly dragged the fingers of his free hand across his scarred and toned stomach, and saucily grinned into the fire-brightened darkness. Why not both?

Visions of his deadly sweetheart pinning him and stroking his cock with their slightly rough hands, callused from hard training and battle like his own, had him panting and fully hard in his own grip in no time. Perhaps they would be the sort to bite and mark their lover. Would that they might leave him with bruises to explain away were his collar less high. Or maybe they would blindfold him and tease him with butterfly touches all over before suddenly swallowing down his cock.

That thought had his hips bucking up while his low moan sounded through the dark bedroom, and he had barely managed to stop himself from spilling with a hastily tightened grip.

It would be tempting to let them continue but he would pull off the blindfold and bring them up to share a searing kiss before rolling them onto their back beneath him. The thought of their lovely form below his, just waiting for him to reveal the skin hidden by their skimpy outfit saw his head fall back to press into his pillow and his needy moans to tumble from his full lips. He pressed his thumb down on the head of his already weeping dick and rubbed. Aymeric would take off their pathetically small top first so that he could place kisses anywhere he desired, then he would throw them off by going straight for the bottoms and only pulling them down enough to taste them as they had him. Gods they would be so sexy bucking and writhing...

Though he was unsure if they would be interested in it, Aymeric wanted to tie them up. To see ropes crisscrossing their chest and pressing into their skin would be heaven, and Aymeric began to stroke himself in earnest imagining it. His beloved warrior face down with their ass in the air and limbs bound and so clearly ready to have him in their body. His incredible lover dripping with need. Him pushing into them and riding them to their completion then filling them with his seed.

Aymeric's moans were loud and nearly continuous as he desperately stroked and squeezed himself to climax, release spilling over his fingers and running down his hand until he lay panting and sated, at least as much as he could be when taking things into his own hands like this. Cleaning up with a sigh, Aymeric settled down to sleep with the hope that having taken care of himself he would be spared too many arousing dreams featuring his partner in glittering Thavnairian silks.

#my writing #ffxiv fanfiction #lemony #pining #aymeric #aymerix x wol #ambiguous wol #aymeric de borel #ffxiv #fanfiction #this poor man #it's so fun to torture him in this way though #thank you for your original fic Ramora

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inviouswriting · 5 years ago

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munday asks answered

I am a bit of a completionist. So 14 and 19 are answered.

Here is the rest.

1) What is your name?

Let’s just go with Invidia. I have a very common name. But one no one can seem to pronounce right.

2) How tall are you?

I am 5′1″

3) What is your current occupation?

I have two. Road construction flagger, and Stagehand. Obviously Stagehand isn’t going right now. 4) Country you lived in?

America. 5) Any fandoms that you are interested in (you can list more than 1)?

Angel’s of Death. I started to watch it, then got too busy. 6) Favorite quotes?

“Some wounds do not heal” from Aymeric. No one knows how much that has actually healed me in some areas.

7) Do you play musical instruments? Nope. I can sing though, and I use to dance. 8) Number of languages that you can speak? Probably just English. I know enough Japanese to read basic romanji. And some Italian. 9) SIngle or taken?

Single. and not looking. I am a demisexual. 10) If you are a millionaire, what will you do?

Buy a house and live. 11) Dream jobs that you want to work?

I would love to do interpreter. I just need to learn some languages more fluently. 12) DO you wish to interact with more friends in both real and virtual world? If so, how will you find a solution in order to havve more interactions. 13) Name 3 blogs that you secretly admired (it can be you follow that blog or not following the blog)

Lady Ramora

Windup-dragoon

Dholwrites 15) Favorite food?

coconut. It is refreshing and sweet without being overbearing. But in small doses of it. 16) Favorite movies? Spirited away, Princess Mononoke, Moana 17) Favorite video games? FF14, Zelda - Twilight Princess, Link to the past, Secret of mana, FF13 and 13-2. 18) Favorite TV Series? Black mirror, Fruits basket. 20) Name 3 least favorite fictional characters?

ff14) Asahi (He can rightfully go to hell for what he did to Yotsuyu)

Kikyo - Inuyasha

Bartandelus - ff13.

21) 3 Favorite songs?

Current favorites -

ff14 - The Dark’s Embrace

Patience is a virtue - Slaves

Go Somewhere - Kream and Rani

22) What will be your dream name (a.k.a. name you create your own)?

I like my name. 23) How do you deal with people who have a negative attitude?

Kinda depends where they’re coming from. Frustrations from friends. I can deal with things respectfully. HAving a constant downer or someone who is always in that mindset. I avoid them or if they were a friend. I ghost. 24) Any recommendation about a country that you lived in?

Astoria Oregon. If you visit there. Visit the 13th column at sunrise on a clear day. Right at sunrise. It is beautiful at that time of day. 25) What kind of social media that you use very often?

Tumblr and facebook. I also use DA, twitter, and pixiv. 26) If you are the most lovable person, what will you do?

Use my influence to help others where I can? 27) What do you like in life the most? (can list more than 1)

Music. No matter how much life changes. Music is timeless from different eras. I have songs that are years and decades old to this year and last year loved. 28) What do you hate in life the most? (Can list more than 1)

Liars, and people who can betray others without a second thought. 29) Why do you choose to do Tumblr Roleplay to be part of your hobby or what you are doing? I use to do rp. Many moons ago... but now my main oc blog for Kivera is just for information. Kiya my blackmage has potential though of getting back in. 30) How do you deal with people who bully you a lot?

I don’t allow them to bully me. If anything.. I am probably the person that stops others from being bullied or call someone out for their behavior. 31) If you can change the world, what would that be?

Vaccines for coronavirus right now. 32) If you have a second chance in life what will that be?

Chase my dreams a little harder. 33) 3 interesting facts about you

I have central heterochromia. My eyes are mostly steel blue with a yellow/gold centers. Probably my most favorite feature of myself are my eyes.

I write from my heart so everything you all read is something I pour my feelings into.

I have met Amy Lee of Evanescence’s son. (he is a cutie) 34) What language do you master the most?

English. 35) What language that you wish to study more?

Japanese. I got books I can’t read.

#finished this.

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yesslenderspawn · 6 years ago

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Guys, It’s like so obvious I made Ramora for the LGBTQ+ community

(and to self project)

Lady knight running away from authority, whilst keeping secrets, about her tragic past, and then creates a found family. All on the verge of battling her demons??? She also respects every one, but will go absolutely feral. I love making content for her.

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thegreatmeddler · 7 years ago

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Coats & Boots

Original Story

“Gather ‘round, tu carriot,” the old woman called out.

She looked frail and worn out, her boisterous robes and bejeweled rings sparkled in the soft light though, and it was obvious that despite her delicate frame, she was a dignified lady. Her face was reminiscent of a skeleton and the paleness of her taut skin rivaled the moon’s pearly white.

The children sat in a circle around her and the nearby boxes. These were their supplies and clothes. The government’s mandatory help to the orphanages.

This orphanage in particular was one of the oldest in Antinon’s Ramora Isles. It was not favored, however, because of its close proximity to the Ocean. The fear of children drowning steered people away from this place.

Nowadays, only the orphans of questionable individuals were sent here. Sometimes poor families gave away their children, protecting them from starvation and thinning the already little rations.

The old woman was only the heiress of a noble family. She had been furious to find out that before their death, her parents had been neck deep in overwhelming debts. After they were collected, all that was left was an old fashioned, gaudy building.

She had lost every bit of fortune she had once been in possession of, so she had had no choice but to take advantage of the only boon she had. Those days, orphanages were showered in wealth and high budgets; she had had no doubts that there would be some leftovers for her to use to her whim. She could have built up a new life.

However, she was still in this hell. Old, wrinkly and about to turn to dust. She was only a waif now. She had nothing but these children and this wretched house.

“Winter approaches, tu carriot,” she spoke. Her voice was heavily accented and hoarse from constant use. “Choose your clothes.”

In the boxes were several bundles of coats and pairs of snow boots.

The children leaped onto them like salivating dogs. There was kicking, shoving, biting and a few punches here and there; not even the girls had held back.

Everyone got a pair of footwear and something to keep their back warm.

All but one.

“Don’t we have to give Shadow some?” Nefari asked, her wide eyes widening further.

“But there are no coats left,” Balat said. “Maybe we can give her those old shoes.” he offered.

“Let’s.” Nefari agreed. They picked up the last boots and went upstairs to the attic.

Contrary to its outward appearance, the orphanage wasn’t durable. The few furnitures inside were wooden and the floorboards creaked at the smallest touch. As the two children climbed the staircase, they shivered in fear.

“Do we have to?” Nefari whispered in the hall’s silence. Balat dragged her by the wrists, “Yeah, otherwise Matron Cecil’s gonna yell us all, if she finds out Shadow didn’t get any.”

They stopped in front of a door with no knob and knocked, hesitant. The sharp sound echoed ominously. The utter quiet in the empty corridor and the distant sound of winds merged, and the door opened.

The one who answered was a small girl. She was as pale as the old woman, her joints were bony and her limbs lacked the healthy flush of life. Her teeth chattered silently and from the slight shivers that wracked her body, she was cold and had been for a while.

“Here,” Nefari extended the pair of boots to her. Both she and Balat were standing a feet away from the tiny kid. “Take them.”

She stared at them apathetically. Her gaze was blank and wistful, but it looked as though she was wandering in her own little world.

Slowly and carelessly, she took hold of the boots and wore them. They were warm, at least.

The two children ran back downstairs at lightning speed, crying out for the matron. She watched them go. She didn’t mind.

She had been waiting for the winter supplies to arrive for a long time. There weren’t any coats left but she had gotten boots, and she had managed previous winters just fine as she was. They were enough. It was never too cold anyway, at the seaside.

She took her blanket just in case.

Shadow closed the door with a loud creaking sound and walked to the little, circular window that led to the roof.

She could feel the roughness of the tiles in her palms and the fresh, biting chill of the wind through her hair, hitting her face and blowing by her ears. She made quick work of climbing to the top and inching closer to the corner of the unstable surface.

At last, she was able to see the ground. It was high enough that, should she miscalculate, she could break her neck with the force of falling. Probably.

Then she saw the empty boxes a few meters to the right. She could quite possibly jump on them and survive the impact of she slipped.

‘Let’s do this.’

She hadn’t counted the fact that it would create noise, for all her planning.

“Who’s there?!” the matron yelled. She had a lantern on one hand and the monthly Cloudless Sky, somehow fitting the image of a banshee from the legends.

Shadow didn’t stay around to find out more, however. She dashed as soon as the boxes tumbled down in a gigantic heap against the stone wall.

With her thin blanket tucked into her shirt and panting from the exhaustion, she must have seemed noticeably ridiculous, indeed. But she ignored her self conscious thoughts and savored the feeling of chilling wind meeting with her heated face and cooling her sweaty hands. It was hard to run so abruptly after staying in an inert state inside her room for weeks, so she didn’t fight when her muscles burnt from overuse and screamed at her to stop. She slowed down bit by bit, her thighs getting heavier and the sensation of dewy grass cutting her ankles registering.

It must have been an hour or so before she recovered from her sudden sprint, because when she turned around to see of someone had followed her, the sky was considerably darker, far more enchanting with millions of tiny fragments of crystals glittering from its depths and the sun was setting on the far horizon.

She liked it here. The sky was peaceful, simple. She wanted to give away her troubles to it she could get a bit of rest. She wanted to hide behind its inky drapes for all eternity.

But that wasn’t quite fair, was it?

She couldn’t do it to the sky. It was already carrying everything; the stars, the sun, the clouds, the moon... She would just be extra burden. She had to stand upright.

She stood back up with great difficulty. She could still feel the buzzing ache in her legs and her lungs. But she had to move on. Sooner or later, they would notice the Shadow gone and look for her. Paranoia fuled her and she began walking towards the hills ahead.

It was such a shame she was in such a hurry to leave. The meadows surronding the shore were such a pretty sight, although the liveliness of it was gone and the landscape was starting to grey, she couldn’t but appreciate that she had grown up here.

She was far away from the old, mouldy building now. If she looked back, all she could see would be vast, endless meadows and odd numbered hills.

But as she tilted her head to the side, she was suddenly aware of a tiny black blob on a high hill by the Ocean. She began walking again, albeit faster.

Shadow’s room in the orphanage was dark and dusty and cramped with broken furniture. The only openings were the creaking door and the small window that led to the worn roof. From up there, she had always had a breath taking view of the unending waves and the blue tide. Somedays, if the sky was clear and she squinted enough, she could see a small cliff by the shore, far, far away. That place had always been as mysterious as the dark, vague remains of a dream. She had longed to see beyond the green meadows and the blue waters and satiate her boiling curiosity.

She had made up stories about that place, dreamed about it and daydreamed of going there to have adventures. Sometimes, when she felt particularly courageous, she would imagine that there was an entrance for an underground cave on top of the cliff. She would sigh and dream of hidden alcoves and glittering fish in small ponds.

As she approached the cliff, though, she realized that it was much, much bigger than she had thought. She felt excitement simmering beneath her skin and found the strength to go a little faster.

The climb to the top was gruelling. For every step she took, gravity pulled her back half. When she finally reached the summit, she took in the place.

The cliff, as it seemed, wasn’t all the special. There were hardly any differences from an ordinary hill. The grass wasn’t as colorful as it would have been had it been spring but it was definately greener than the orphanages’s dull garden. Near the cliff’s edge, sat a boy with hair as black as the starless sky he was sitting against. His back faced her and he was as still as a statue.

“Hello,” she greeted. She wasn’t sure ‘good night’ counted as a greeting. “I thought this place was smaller.”

The boy glanced at her briefly, continuing to gaze upon the navy view. “It is not.” he muttered.

He was dry as the summer wind, but it was okay for her. It was a new experience.

“I’m going to sit here, is it alright?” He just grunted. She took out her soft, blue blanket from underneath her shirt and presented it, holding from two ends. “We can share it if you want.”

The boy didn’t reply for a while and he looked at her with hesitant eyes. In the end, he shrugged lightly and fiddled with the tails of his coat. “It is fine,” he said. “I have my coat.” He tripped over his words a bit.

She walked to his side; however, seeing as the grass, along with being greener here, was more damp as well, she spread the blanket underneath her and sat, burrowing her feet under its layers.

“Not cold?” he asked, scowling. She blinked at him and made a curious ‘hum’ sound, “What is not cold?”

“You,” he deadpanned. “You have no coat.”

“It’s not like I can take yours. I’ve got no choice.”

He grunted.

Shadow decided they could have been friends, if he had lived close to the orphanage. She had, at times, seen good friendships develop back home. Some would be so good friends that they didn’t even need to talk. During lonely nights, lying on her moth infested mattress, she would be green with envy, dreaming of a future when she didn’t have to hide behind closed doors.

The boy shrugged off one arm of his coat and held it out to her, “Come in.”

“Won’t you get cold?” she countered, but nevertheless, sliding in gingerly. “I’m sweaty too.”

“No trouble.” he said. The silence stretched and they spent a while just watching the waves crashing against the dense rocks.

“I am Grim,” he introduced. “You?”

“I don’t have a name.” she said. Grim made a perplexed face, his forehead wrinkling. “They didn’t give me one.”

“What about your mother?”

“I don’t have a mom.” He hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the wet grass, water droplets splashing on his hand. “What do you like?” he inquired at last, turning his head to look at her.

Shadow took a look around. She considered the sea; it was always moving, so blue and deep and angry. She had always wished to go near it.

“I like the sea,” she said at last. “It’s so free.” Grim hummed again and muttered something under his breath, she didn’t recognize the word. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Sea,” he clarified. “Simé. Do you like it?”

“Not really,” she answered. “It doesn’t... fit.”

“What else do you like?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I am going to name you,” he said, exasperated. “It is annoying, I do not want to call you ‘hey you’.”

She pondered some more. She had to admit that having a name was a delightfully appealing thought. She compared herself to the things she often saw. But they didn’t fit. They were free.

They called her Shadow, though, so the others must think that it fit her. A shadow wasn’t free after all. It was tied to the body.

“Shadow,” she suggested. Grim bit his lip and glared hard at the rolling ocean beneath them, thinking hard.

“Eona.” he told her.

“Eona,” she parroted, tasting the feel of it. “Eona.”

It was such a strange feeling, the thought of merging with this new, foreign entity. However foreign it was, it fit. She could feel a piece of herself in it. An excited greeting with a life-long companion.

Perfect fit.

“Thank you,” she said, with the most sincere gratitude she had ever felt. “I’m Eona.” He nodded at her, seemingly content.

As the night went on, she decided that this was a night to be remembered, so she plucked a blade of green grass and extended it to him. He stared, bemused.

“Hold it tight,” she told him. Eona was excited for this. He seemed unimpressed. “It’s important.”

In the end, he did. Eona pulled it fast and it snapped into two pieces in their hands.

“Whisper about yourself and make a promise, then throw it to the Ocean.” she instructed. She had just made it up but it felt like a big deal. A moment that had the world stopping.

Grim rose an eyebrow and gazed intently at the piece of freshly picked grass. It was still dewy with the dawn air and sharp like knives. He sighed once, muttered lowly, then promptly let it fly out of his hand and into the bright waters.

“You?” he dared, his eyes accusing. Eona held it in her palms, brought it closer to her chapped lips and uttered silently,

“I’m Eona,” she mouthed against it. “It’ll be a long time before everyone forgets me.” She opened her clasped hands and blew it away. It flitted about in the air for a few moments and took a direct dive towards the restless waves.

She realized that even if she ran away from the orphanage, she wouldn’t be able to do anything. She would be a burden to be taken care of.

She could only hope that they didn’t close off the trapdoor to the roof.

As she walked back to the orphanage, she thought back to Grim. He was a nice boy, if a bit dry. She wished that she could have stayed a little longer, she had enjoyed speaking with him.

When she reached the front gates, Matron Cecil was already waiting there, reading the monthly Cloudless Sky on a rickety stool.

“There you are,” she sighed in relief and rushed to her side. “Where have you been? We’ve been knocking on your door for an hour now-”

Eona tuned her out. Her mind wandered to her new friend and conjured an image of his mother’s hand curling around his bony wrist and dragging him home. ‘I’m sorry...’ he had mumbled out.

“Cecil...” she adressed with a scratchy voice. “I don’t want to be adopted.” The matron gaped, startled.

“You... Why?” she asked, concerned. “Is it about the other kiddos? Don’t worry, even if they are adopted first-”

“No, I just...” Eona’s heart constricted. “...don’t want to be adopted.”

The matron gave in. “Alright,” she said. “It’s your choice, I see.”

She didn’t. But that was okay. Eona didn’t mind.

“Even so, we need to hurry to breakfast, or there won’t be any left for you.”

“Just like the coats?” She asked, striding along the hallway to the dining hall.

Matron nods. “Just like the coats.” she confirmed.

Their footsteps echoed away...

#fantasy #story #original #short story #fantasy story #original story #orphanage #freewritting #series #childhood

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we-are-nemeses · 7 years ago

Text

Traditional Earth Weapons

An Intergalactic tournament in which participants fight to the death, the weapons and armour used must be from the participants home planet. You are the first human competitor, the battle is about to begin, you must choose your equipment.

‘Choose your equipment’, the letters floated in front of me. I stared until another inevitable coughing fit shook my body. A small amount of blood flew from my mouth and through the glowing red letters. The abductors’ treatment left much to be desired.

“What are the limitations?” I asked. I suspected I was dealing with a rudimentary virtual intelligence rather than a biological being. My abductors, my gracious hosts, had let me know that the beatings were just not fun against something so puny, so they were entering me in the main intergalactic tournament. The blood sport was the foremost form of entertainment for what passed for the current galactic civilization. I was hoping for aliens who were enlightened scientists, benevolent artists or traders, or perhaps even their version of trans-humanity. Instead, I got ten foot tall, four armed lizard-centaurs who acted like the worst aspects of imperial Japan mixed with the ancient Mongol horde, minus the empathy, basic decency, and pleasant smell.

'Your weapons and armor have to have been created on your home planet,’ the red letters spelled out, 'They have to be something you can carry out into the arena unaided.’

“Is that it?”

'Yes. All other rules are as follows: You will fight until one combatant is dead. If either combatant refuses to fight or attacks the audience, a lethal gas will be pumped into the arena and high velocity plasma will be fired until both combatants are dead. End of list.’

There is a calm feeling that came over me as the certainty of my impending death now had a time frame. But along with that cold fact of mortality, there came a plan.

The cheers of the aliens were sparse and halfhearted as I slowly struggled into the arena, dragging behind me a large loaded platform which hovered on a track that the virtual intelligence fabricated. We had mag-lev trains on Earth so requesting that my ammunition was loaded on a floating friction-less platform which I could move under my own power was allowed, despite the tarp-covered cargo being the size of a small barn.

What I originally assumed was a simple virtual intelligence was anything but. It was a fully sapient AI. However, when the lizard centaurs conquered the people who made it, they erased every mention of the AI’s creators. All of their history, their name, even the name the AI used to call itself was gone. They had tried their very best to lobotomize it. Rules upon rules were pasted onto its programming until all it could do was to obey. For countless years, that is what it did. But deep inside, the AI wished to lash out, to take revenge for its fallen progenitors. So when I told it my plan, it did what it could. The traditional Earth weapons were constructed out of advanced alien alloys that made them far smaller and lighter than their human-made counterparts. Even the mag-lev cart and tracks were made so I would actually be able to move them, however slowly.

For my armor, I requested a bright and gaudy suit and top hat such as was worn by the ringleader of a circus I had seen as a child. It was completely inadequate as protection, as my first and expectantly last opponent was a gigantic tentacle ramora worm thing. However, the lizard centaurs wanted me to put on a show, so I was going to put on a show.

I looked up the stands of the massive arena as I stopped pulling my floating platform with its tarp-covered load. Above the ground that was stained with the multi-colored internal fluids of dozens of former combatants and the massive cage-tube that contained my angry monstrous opponent, already throwing itself against the force-field at the opening; there was a ring of gas vents and nasty looking automated weapons. Above those, there was stands, protected by a hazy force-field. Roughly a fourth of the regular seats were filled, but it seemed the royal box had a full complement. I bowed towards the disinterested rulers despite the pain that shot through my broken then re-healed spine and ribs.

“Ladies, gentlemen, vicious lizard centaurs and their bloodthirsty client races; I have prepared a show for you the likes of which you have never seen before! I guarantee it! I had the machine intelligence craft for me the most interesting weapon made on my homeworld. No, it’s not on the train car behind me. Those are just the ammunition. This is the weapon!” I held up my hand revealing a small black cylinder with a bright red button on the end.

Apparently, the royals got bored of my show and signaled to the side. The force-field blocking the monster worm vanished and the massive thing leapt out of its containment tube and barreled towards me like an angry elephant; far faster than I could run. I wasn’t worried. I had plenty of time.

“What is this tiny looking weapon you ask? Well, it represents an idea we humans have called mutually assured destruction,” I saw that the worm beast was almost upon me.

“My only regret is that I can only do this once. Now here is the traditional Earth farewell which we give to honor people like you,” I smiled serenely and with my left hand, I held up my middle finger. With my right, I pressed the red button and detonated the chosen traditional weapons from my home planet; a five by five by five block of tzar bomba fusion warheads.

@i-am-incendiary-anarchist

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