#MARIUS MARIUS IT IS SO RUDE OF YOU TO TAKE AWAY MY BREATH LIKE THIS

[naihhhhe]

so as i was saying—

HOLP UD—

OMY GSHD

SIR I—

DAM— faints*

[priestessrosery]

Hiiiii!Priestess here!it's my 1st time writing for the Tears of Themis fandom heheheheh pls enjoy!And yes,this doesn't have plot as it is,in fact,a crack fic or at least in my opinion lol😂

Tw:Swearing,Mentions of digesting rocks,fatigued men and women ahead.

Crack Fic/Drabble

Team NXX was in the middle of an investigation when Rosa pulls a shady ball that looks like a rock from her bag and takes a bite out of it.The investigation is being held at the ass crack of dawn.

And now,as we all know,everyone- I mean almost everyone goes on a berserk mode when waken up so darn early in the morning especially when the sudden awakening had caused you to fall down the wrong side of the bed which happened to be the side of the bed with no carpet which also caused you to,in a sense,kiss the floor.

And now you're probably wondering how this is so strangely accurate.Well,truth is,Rosa experienced everything,in that same order.

So when she received a text message saying there was going to be an investigation and that her presence was required,*breathes in* *holds it* Rosa responds to the text saying she's OTWw.

(Btw,this is my version of Rosa heheh,just a little teeny tiny bit of change.Maybe not but,come on!It's a crack fic for a reason.)

Mind you,Rosa has her own meaning for this particular slang.And the extra W was definitely not a typo.

It means "On the way to water."

Meaning she was on the way to the shower.

And now I think I went off rail somewhere there anyways,let's go back to that rock looking ball at the start.

Said ball did not go unnoticed by the ever so nosy- I mean,observant,Von Hagen.

Not the father but the second son.

"Miss,are you so hungry that you ended up eating a rock?"

Marius said in a surprisingly concerned and serious tone that it was almost suspicious.

But then again,if he wasn't being frank,he would have said something along the lines of "You should have told me you were hungry!I could get you a whole restaurant reserved if you want!"

But Rosa hadn't had enough of chocolate intake yet so she wasn't ready to dogshow the piece of shi- I mean shit so early in the morning,y'know?

So she says,

"Yeah,I am.so what."

And casually walks away leaving the piece of shit astounded.

Marius was like,

'WHATTTTTTTTTT?????'

Rosa takes Marius's silence as a signal that he finally realized his question was incredibly stupid and already realized what the hell she was eating.But,said Von Hagen is known to always go belo- beyond your expectations.

So as she runs around talking to Captain Morgan and the others Marius's gaze follows her around.Something the attorney didn't fail to notice.

"What,do you need to say anything?You've been staring at me for a while.Do you have something to say?"

"Miss.....are you okay?"

"What."

Was all Rosa could muster.Because,as far as she knows,she doesn't feel anything unusual and uncomfy.

Seeing Rosa's visual confusion,Marius shouts,

"VYNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!ARTEMMMMM!LUKEEEEEE!GET OVER HERE!SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MISSSSSSSSS-!"

And the other men who heard their names being called so unceremoniously so darn early in the morning almost wanted to strangle Marius for being sooo loud but after hearing "Rosa" and "Wrong" in the same sentence,they all but rushed to her sides to bombard her with questions.

Artem,her senior,was particularly worried that she hadn't gotten any sleep yet as he knows how she is sometimes.

Luke,her childhood friend,was worried that she accidentally bashed someone's head in hard cement because they soured her mood and because it's so damn early.

And Vyn,her very special friend-

(I am biased towards Vyn,okay?)

Was worried her senior gave her one too many cases and fieldwork to handle that she barely had enough rest,oh,his poor rose.

And here is Marius freaking out telling everyone he saw Rosa eating a rock out of hunger and fatigue.

"Are you quite certain that this is not one of your measly attempts at-"

My baby- I mean the doctor gets cut off by the super rude annoyin- I mean his lovely student freaking out saying,

"Miss was eating rocks,okay!?I saw it!She even confirmed it!"

"Rosa,is that true?"

Artem decides to break off the cycle of confusion and misunderstanding definitely not because he thinks he's gonna strangle the tutor and his student for being so loud and rude so early in the morning.

"No.I wasn't."

Everyone then looks and glares at the poor annoyin- cute puppy🐶.

"Hey!I definitely saw you!If what you were eating,isn't a rock then,what is it!?"

Marius defends as he crosses his arms in an attempt to go cutely say 'hmmmmph!' he wasn't cute.At least in the doctor's perspective.And mine.Kiddding!Lol😂........or am I?

"Marius,that wasn't a rock!It's tablea!"

Rosa exclaims feeling immensely offended by the claim.

"Ooooooohhhhh."

Luke breaks the awkward atmosphere.

"I remember!Grandma sent you those,yea?"

"She did."

Rosa confirms.

"What.That still doesn't answer my question."

Marius stubbornly claims.

"Marius,not to be rude or anything but,have you eaten anything yet?Because it seems like it's you who who needs to eat and sleep."

"Hey!I know that and for your information,I did eat and sleep.Answer my question!"

"It's tableya.It's chocolate used to make porridge.It came from cacao and was made to be the shape of a ball.How's that?

Or do you need me to write you a thesis defense?"

Rosa sarcastically rolls her eyes.

"Oh."

Silence ensued.

Luke was confused whether he should laugh or not because he's so tired that he can no longer read the room like everyone else.Artem was clueless.He doesn't know what the hell just happened in front of him.And no,it's not because of the foolishness of the event.He's tired too,fatigued if you would say.

And Vyn,was to say, at the very least,is holding himself from laughing like a crazed maniac a)because he's also fatigued.He just went to sleep a few minutes before his presence was deemed to be required in the investigation.b)because he finds it incredibly amusing to make a fool out of the piece of shit.c)He also actually knew what "the rock looking ball" was from the start.Because just yesterday,Rosa asked him if he wanted to come over so she could teach him how to make 'champorado' since he's always the one doing the teaching.And she also happened to mention the tableya in their conversation.

Rosa walks away and the other fatigued men follow her suit like some ducklings following their mother.Leaving the piece of shit- I mean the Von Hagen alone to ponder how the hell he just made himself to look the fool.In front of everyone.Including Rosa.No one's going to let this one slide,especially Rosa.He sighs thinking of the countless ways Rosa ft. Luke and Vyn would remind him of this moment.

They will never let me live this one down.Ever.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Visiting your hometown

What happens when you take your man to your home town? As your memories, people and places come together how will he react?

A small/long drabble to get me back into writing. Enjoy!

Victor Creed

This mutant never thought that he would walk in your hometown. He didn't expect to see cultures that morph together into one special town, your town. A place where you grew up. So keeping all that in mind he was cautious. Various not to offend someone or to say a rude word in your mother tongue. For the first time in his life, he is frazzled and nervous. he will keep in his front pocket a small leaflet some words he heard you say a few times that may be of some assistance. trying to woo you.

-that old hag showed me the middle finger. let's go.

Unfortunately, anything that he says wrong, will be your responsibility to amend it. so good luck.

Loki

you just know that Loki will have your mother tongue in his little finger (that sounds weird but let's carry on) but do not be fooled, he can not survive the morning wave of people in the farmers market. something that is pretty much normal for you. Loki doesn't know how to feel when he sees the local butcher wrapping the meat in todays' newspaper giving it to buyers or how people shove him to the side as his black suit with the green scarf is more than brought down in value. he will hear the near shouts of Famers that are trying to sell their livelihood to him as his head goes from one side to another in a split second. he will easily get reeled in by the old farmer who just smells the innocence on the Midgardian addressed god. you know the moment you grabs his hand he looks at you.

-how did you ever survive in this chaos?

-I thought you said that chaos is your middle name.

-it is however my kind of chaos is more dignified.

-survive just a little bit more, I need to go to that man in the corner.

-oh, no...

Thor

we all in the fandom know that thor is a ball of joy. but when he lands in your city, your territory he is stoic. he is here on a mission and no one should stand in his way. he will glue himself to your side and he will hold the dictionary book in his mighty right hand and your hand in his left. he will not stand for wasting a day on mundane stuff that you do with him back in the HQ so say goodbye to lazying around. when you go to the oceanic part of your country you are now almost ready to drown him in the ocean. or just leave him on the road, it is getting that heavy.

-thor, think it is time to stop.

-what do you mean?

-to be honest, I don't know anymore I am so tired.

-you are right... let us stop. for 2 minutes and then you can drive again.

-I will leave you here.

Bucky Barnes

bucky loves to travel. he loves to see you in the role of a guide you tell him about the park where you cut your leg open and when you got to the hospital as a nun stood above you praying for your recovery. bucky loves to feel the fresh air going into his nose thinking to himself how this was the same air that you breathe in. he loves to see all the different parts of the city where you went to. even so much that he went to your former hairstylist.

-bucky, you don't have to do this.

-nonsense, doll. I want to experience it. just like you did.

-that was eons ago. and I wore super short hair, like a hedgehog.

-hedgehog?

-yeah, it was so short that I only put on gel and made small spikes.

- I will give everything I have and say that you looked beautiful.

-alright, your call.

Steve Rogers

steve cannot wait for enough for him to arrive in the city where you walked, ran, and laughed. he cannot wait to enter your old apartment and see all of the hidden pieces that he wants to know. he loves to help you clean the apartment and see a big box of your old photos. he will look with your through on the hard wooden floor with one arm around your shoulders as you talk about each photo. even showing him the photo of your sister.

-when will I meet her?

-I don't know.

-didn't you say that she lived here, still?

-yeah...

-I want to meet her. I think am ready for it.

-okay...

Bruce Wayne

you just know that when you told him to pack his bags to go with you he did his research. he knows when, how the city was built. he will try to memorize the tongue twisters and say them horribly wrong just to make you laugh. when he looks at your old apartment he tries to envision the day you left it all behind to go to Gotham and it breaks his heart to imagine you in tears.

-bruce.

you take his calloused hand feeling his fingers tighten the grip.

-sorry, I immediately imagined you when you moved out. I got sad.

-why?

-because, you surely cried.

-I did, a little, but this city didn't have that something.

-and what is that?

-you dumbass. now stop sulking we need to clean.

Clark Kent

as Clark arrived at the farm where your aunt lived he couldn't help feel but prepared. he saw the cows eating grabs and was ready in a split second to milk it just to show off his soft and delicate side. Clark heard the stories of your aunt, well one of them, and from what he concluded, for now, this aunt was the beginner level, nice one, the one who won't tear him a new one if he doesn't treat you right. as the door opened you greeted your aunt in your mother tongue and introduced your man. Clark shakingly trying to reply in the mother tongue feeling the few letters that stood together could fall more apart than from his mouth. your aunt laughed hugging him and roughly patted him on his back. almost like a punch if you will. you look at your aunt and Clark cannot help but stand behind you as he whispered.

-what did she say?

-she said that you seem stiffer than a goat's turd.

-you said that this aunt was nice.

-she is. but that is the way we express ourselves.

-with curse words???!!

-what better way.

Arthur curry

Arthur was relaxed when he arrived, he was laid back when he slept in your apartment but that all suicide jumped off a cliff as he shook hands with your mother. Your mom wasn't that intimating but he heard the stories of her standing to your abusive father and running away with just some change in her pocket and a used car. he knows that the woman in front of him is strong can make or break your relationship. so he held the coffee cup in his hands as if was the key to everything he needed to know how to make your mother happy. he saw how your eyes sparkled when you talked to her how your smile ever left for a second you take what seemed to him in complete gibberish but cute gibberish. your mother turns to him asking in English.

-so Arthur, can I call you by your first name?

-yes, madam. of course, you can.

-thank you. well, then Arthur what do you do for a living?

with a small nod from you, he tells the honest truth.

-I am a superhero. but minus the stupid cape. I am here to keep you and your daughter, of course, safe from all danger. and I hope you will like me!!!!

you turn to your mother with a small chuckle as you tell her in your mother tongue.

-he is helpless.

-he seems like it, good luck, Y/n.

Orm Marius

nothing can save his pulse from rising as he walked with the crowd of people in the town square only your hand which he held more than tightly enough. you stopped pointing at a big statue of a colonel on a horse placed in the middle of the square.

-he is a big deal.

-yes, I can imagine the poor people that had to lift it up to place it here.

-yes, but thanks to those people, people now in the present can always remember what they went through at that time.

he didn't find any specialness in the statute for him it lacked in far more than that he can count but when he saw your face looking at the statue he knew that whatever that stirred in you he wanted to see it every day. he only squeezed your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles.

-does this mean you want in your likeness?

-sure, but only if you will make it.

-oh, darling, that is a recipe for chaos.

The Joker

j never put effort into himself. he did in destruction, in chaos, in mayhem, and even in covering his white skin with some basic foundation as he meets your off the edge aunt. when you told him that every second sentence from her is a curse he was more than ready to meet her. because sometimes crazy people click with the people who like to curse. everyone knows that. so when he sat in the house of your crazy aunt he firstly observed, he watched you talked together and exchanged laughs, even more, when you ever brought to tears as you laughed off the curses she threw at you so playfully making even j smile. so when she turned to him it was game time. and you were the translator.

-my aunt asked what is that you do for a job?

-tell her I am the man of your dreams.

-I told her that.

-damn, then tell her-WHAT?!

you giggle at his shock as you heard the playful quote she told you when you were little and j wanted to know what she said.

-what did she say?

-she said "if a girl gives a man a hand, she will give him her ass"

-your aunt is a wise woman.

- I knew you would like her.

Duncan Vizla

Duncan likes to take walks and taking a walk with you next to him as you showed him around your old neighborhood and told him stores of the always pissed on metal slide and the always filled cafes that were always the pinpoints for some scammers he found in question why you like it so much. as you showed his around you stopped at your old elementary school. you showed him the main entrance was where everyone hurled in the morning hours and where you sat with your friends and talked about the horribly proffers that still to this day haunt you. something he heard you mumble in your sleep.

-she was that awful?

-yes, and people like here never get old it's like the evilness she has in her keeps her eligible for work.

-am i not the same?

he couldn't ask a stupider question. and for that, you punched him in the shoulder.

-don't compare yourself to her. you aren't evil.

-you are forgetting my job, darling.

-you kill for money, she kills for fun and to keep herself alive. a difference now let's go home I need to remind you just how good and attentive you can be.

-lead the way, dove.

hope you liked it. Tell me what you think❤️

Support me with a kofi

[kaygom]

tot characters and the birthday presents they gift to vyn.

Word count: 865

Author's Note: It's Vyn's birthday so I thought, why not? I had fun writing this and adding a bit of a comedic twist and a slight innuendo. I am still in process of finishing up his birthday event and I am feeling very betrayed by mihoyo because I still haven't pulled his birthday SSR card yet. I so desperately want that beautiful card. ; n ; But I guess I am going to have to spend a bit of money to try and get lucky. lol ANYWHO! I hope you all enjoy this.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Rosa

Rosa was the one who planned this small gathering with all the members of NXX. It's just a small dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant. The table is in a secluded area so no one would have the opportunity to interrupt this birthday dinner. "Chocolate matcha cake?" Vyn asks when he gets a glance at the unboxed cake centered on the table. She nods her head with a bright smile playing on her lips. "Of course! It is your favorite after all!" Vyn wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in close to him to place a kiss on the temple of her head. "Thank you. For all of this." He whispers, his breath brushing against her ear, causing her to blush deeply. She turns her head to hide in his shoulder and he chuckles softly as the others' look away. "You don't have to thank me.. You deserve to be celebrated," she responds when she rests her chin on his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso. Their embrace lasts a bit until Luke clears his throat to remind them that there are others in attendance.

"Here's your gift, Vyn~" She pulls away from him and reaches into her purse to retrieve the two presents she brought him. He takes them from her and unwraps both of them. They were books on topics of psychology by an author that you've done some research on in between case research. "Malcolm Gladwell. I have heard many positive things about what he his writings about psychology. I haven't had the chance to buy his books, but now I don't have to worry about it. Thank you, Rosa." He turns his attention back to her and smiles warmly at her. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiles sheepishly at him then nods her head. "You're welcome, Vyn."

She glances around the table, the three men preoccupied by their own conversations. Rosa takes this opportunity to bring herself closer to him and whispers into his ear. "The presents will continue tonight after this dinner." Vyn rests his hand on her knee and squeezes it. "I look forward to it." She catches a glisten in his eyes as he turns his attention to tune in to what the three were talking about.

Artem Wing

Artem hands over a thin, yet long box to Vyn. Taking the box into his hands, he analyzes it. Everyone has their eyes on the birthday boy as he removes the lid. Inside lies a blue silk tie with an elegant pattern embroidered into the fabric, along with a matching pocket square. He runs a finger along the smooth surface of the tie before looking up to acknowledge Artem. "Thank you for this present." Artem responds with a curt nod. "I noticed you mostly wear red or black ties. Consider it added selection to your limited choices." Even his statement was borderline rude, it didn't sound like it with the tone that Artem spoke. "You are very considerate, Mr. Wing." Vyn's brows furrow a little, annoyance displaying on his face. "I try to be, Dr. Richter."

Luke Pearce

Luke pulls out a medium sized boxed with a big bow adorning the top. He slides it along the table in Vyn's direction. Vyn unravels the bow carefully then peels back the intricately wrapped present. Once he has the top off the present, he stares at the antique silver-plated tea set. "Well, this is rather beautiful." Rosa nudges Luke's shoulder playfully. "Are you trying to one-up me?!" Luke blushes then rubs a hand on the side of his neck. "Ah, this was donated to me not too long ago. But when I saw it, I knew that I couldn't sell it. It was a bit rusty, but I went to get it cleaned and polished." Vyn picks up one of the teacups and he places it on the palm of his hand and twirls it with his other fingers, admiring his reflection in the cup. "This will be a wonderful addition to my collection. Thank you, Luke." Vyn says, his tone genuine. "Don't mention it, Dr. Richter."

Marius Von Hagen

"I got you a stethoscope." He smiles proudly as soon as Vyn has the box unwrapped, but before he has removed the lid to reveal the gift. "You do realize that he probably won't use that often, right?" Luke speaks from the side. Artem tries to conceal a chuckle, placing his hand against his lips. "He's a doctor isn't he? Why wouldn't he use it?" Marius looks at Luke with a look of bewilderment. "What is he going to do? Put it to a patient's forehead and listen to their brain?" Luke asks in a joking tone. Vyn finally sees what the youngest has gifted him, picking it up gently in his slender fingers. "I must admit this is a wonderful gesture. It is the thought that counts." He peers up at Marius then nods his head in thanks. "As Luke is right, this isn't typically used for diagnosing mental disorders, but I do need to use it every now and again. I appreciate the gift, Marius." Vyn smiles politely and Marius gives him a thumbs up. "No problem, Doc!"

[devilberries]

~Tears of Themis~

Marius royalty au

Part ii coming out soon with Marius x femMC

Pressure.

Marius Von Hagen knew pressure very well. In fact, he was acquainted with pressure since he was born. Pressure had been holding his hand since he learned how to walk, and it’s always stuck by his side.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became prince. Pressure weighed on his back when he sat with the neighboring royal children. Pressure weighed on his back when his brother ran away. Pressure weighed on his back when he became the crown prince. Pressure weighed on his back when his parents both grew old and ill.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became king.

And here he sat on the throne. It felt uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong there. The elbow rests of the golden chair were cold, unwelcoming. The seat itself was big. He felt like a small child, sitting there.

It reminded him that he was only king in name. At least, that was what people kept saying. He almost believed them. He really should. After all, how could he rule a kingdom he was never meant to rule?

Was this why his brother left? Were the responsibilities too much? Was this why he ran away, leaving all the heavy burdens behind for his pitiful younger brother?

Marius slumped in his seat defeatedly. It wasn’t like he could ask his parents for help when they were both ill in their beds.

But now that there was a change in power, advisors, military commanders, and neighboring kingdoms were watching for a chance to swoop in and eat up Marius. They were waiting for him to slip and fall, using it to their advantage. They would try and try to manipulate Marius, the ignorant younger prince who only knew how to draw.

He heard the whispers in the long halls. He knew of the names they conjured up for him. He could feel the contempt through their fake smiles.

“Your Royal Majesty,” one of the advisors coughed. Marius snapped out of his daze and looked at him. The advisor furrowed his eyebrow and stated, “As the king of this nation, it would be wise not to mindlessly daydream in the middle of a meeting.”

Marius could hear another counselor scoff under his breath, “King? He’s no king. Just a foolish child wearing a crown.”

He raised eyes at the two men calmly.

“Tell me, old man, who is my father?”

The counselor stared back at him with caution as he answered, “His Royal Majesty King Austin von Hagen.”

Marius smirked when he heard his voice quiver. “Alright, and what is my brother’s title?”

Whispers rush between the men along the long table. It was an unspoken rule not to speak of the original crown prince. They could feel the tension suffocate them.

“H-His Royal Highness… Prince G-Giann von Hagen.”

“Good!” Marius smiled, praising the old man, who sat there, sweating buckets of water. “Now,” he stared straight into his eyes, “what is my title?”

“Y-Your Royal Majesty… King Marius von Hagen II.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Marius waved his finger at the counselor. “That’s not what you said a few seconds ago. Tell me, oh, wise counselor.” He walked behind the old man, towering above him. He placed his hands on his shoulders and asked, “What did you call me?”

The silence was loud. Everyone could only look down, ignoring the counselor. Marius could feel the man shake beneath his touch.

He knew this wasn’t the life he was meant for. He knew that he was better off painting somewhere far away from the throne. Marius knew he was an incompetent king.

But a king nonetheless.

When the man said nothing, Marius whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s treason, you know? What should we do with you, hmm? We could,” he traced his finger on the shaking counselor’s neck, “slit your throat. Hang you. Maybe both. Or wait,” he snaked his arm around the man’s shoulder and harshly grabbed the man’s cheeks with one hand.

“We could cut that tongue of yours out.”

As if that triggered something in him, the man began to sputter out words, begging for mercy. He’d be on his knees if he could, but he didn’t dare shove Marius away. The young king cringed when he felt the man’s snot and tears drip down on his hand. Hastily, he pulled away and called for the guards.

As they forced the counselor away, he screamed and cried, but they all fell on deaf ears. Marius turned to the others who sat there with pale faces.

“I think it’d be best to end the meeting here today. Good day, everyone.” He turned to leave, and everyone let out a sigh of relief, until he turned around. They all flinched and attempted to compose themselves. “Ah, by the way,” he eyed each one of them carefully. “I wasn’t joking when I said that was treason. If I hear a single one of you utter a word about my father, brother, or me, I will cut your tongues out, and let it be known that your families won’t be spared.”

He swiftly exited the room and headed to his parents room.

Pressure trailed behind him, so he walked faster. It was a hopeless attempt, as it caught up to him in no time. He paused his movement and clutched his chest, taking in heavy breaths. The shame and embarrassment clouds his vision, while fear blocked his hearing. He was simply alone, facing his fellow friend pressure once more.

He could tell it was mocking him. He could hear its laughs as it pointed at him, calling his crown unbefitting of him, a faux king. He could feel the judgement of its eyes as it stared at him, his glimmering jewels and badges and oversized cape.

Even with all the riches and gold covering him, he felt so naked.

When he felt its hand on its shoulder, he turned and yelled at it, hoping the nightmare would end.

“Get away from me!”

There he was, Vyn, his Royal Tutor, hand in the air as it was shoved away by Marius, and wearing a surprised expression on his face.

He quickly erased whatever trace of shock he had on his face and inquired the boy, “Should we skip todays lessons, Your Royal Majesty?”

Marius blinked back at him, not comprehending what he had just said.

What just happened? Did he shove Vyn?

Vyn saw his visible panic and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. The poor boy looked at him with fear.

“Your Royal Majesty-“

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered with closed eyes. “That’s not me. I’m not…”

“Oh, but you are,” Vyn said. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?”

No words came out of Marius, so the Tutor pulled the depressed king along with him into a private guest bedroom. He softly pushed Marius to sit on the bed, while he himself sat on the chair, watching the boy.

“How do you feel?”

Marius stared at the ground emptily. “Can I answer you honestly, Vyn?”

“Of course. You can tell me anything… Marius,” he added that at the end carefully. The boy let out a relieved sigh once he heard Vyn drop the honorifics.

“You really don’t have to call me all those things in public either, Vyn.”

He smiled, “That would be rude and almost treasonous. Didn’t I teach you that?”

“Argh,” Marius bent over, covering his face. “Don’t even mention the word treason near me again.”

“Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Marius looked up, and Vyn chuckled at his distressed expression. “I may have gotten mad at someone for talking shit about me, so I sent him to the chambers and threatened to cut his tongue off…”

Vyn raised an eyebrow, “Was it someone from the Council?”

“Yeah, it was,” Marius sighed.

“Well, it was very irrational to say, at the least, but at least you took the initiative to use your power. That’s the first step of being a ruler.”

“But I don’t want to be a ruler, Vyn. You know that. This,” he got up and spread his arms out, pointing to himself, “none of this stuff feels right. Being King doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right. Everything is just so…” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes hard to stop the tears.

Vyn sat there patiently. He watched as the boy just a bit younger than him fall apart. He knew it would happen one day. No, in fact, he hoped it would happen. Perhaps this was Marius’s way to free himself from this mess of a kingdom he was born it.

The Tutor was smart. He was intelligent enough to be a military strategist, maybe even be King, but he was unlucky. He was born with commoner blood, yet maybe he was grateful to have been a mere peasant, a mere servant to serve a spoiled prince because he realized being born with royal blood didn’t mean you were lucky; you were just crushed even more by the endless expectations of thousands of people who entrust their lives to you.

He knew what Marius was going to

Everything was just so suffocating.

———————————

It took a while for Marius to stop crying. Vyn chuckled to himself thinking about it. How old was he? Twenty-one, right? Twenty-one and still weeping like he was five.

“Marius.” The boy who was sitting down on the bed, hugging a soft white pillow, looked up with puffy eyes. They decided it was best to stay until his eyes were a bit better in case word spreads that the King is a big baby. “If the pressure makes you too anxious, how about visiting the Themis Temple?”

“Temple? But I’m not religious,” Marius sniffed.

“I know that, but it might calm you a bit. Visiting the temple may bring peace and tranquil for your mind. Plus, I heard the priests and priestesses there are very kind and welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

The boy raised his eyebrow when he heard the words “welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

Was there really such a place that would overlook such things?

“Plus, I hear that they have this intriguing… we’ll call it ‘tradition.’”

“What do you mean by that?” Marius questioned.

“Well, you see, they believe that all the Head Priestesses that are born inherit Themis’s blood. I hear the Head Priestess as of now has a daughter who is coming of age to become the next Head Priestess, so they’re having this event, almost like a ritual to perform on the girl.”

Marius furrowed his eyebrows. “Ritual?”

Vyn nodded, “Yes, a ritual. I’ve only heard rumors, since the last one was forty years ago, but, apparently, the girl gets hot water poured all over her. It’s suppose to symbolize inheriting the burdens of the last Head Priestess and to make her feel the injustice of this world weigh down on her.”

Marius frowned. That sounded more like torture. He felt pity for the girl. She seemed similar to Marius, born with responsibility and pressure, with a role she never asked for.

“How about you go with me right now? We can use our study time to see whether or not you’ll like it. Plus, I believe it’s an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“But won’t people recognize me?” He inquired.

“The question you should be asking is not that, but if you ‘want’ people to recognize you.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want people to know,” he grumbled.

“Then we shall dress as normal aristocrats. Come now, I have plenty of clothes that will suit you. You’ll have to make due with a commoner’s clothes, Your-“

“Don’t even think about addressing me like that,” he sneers. “And I don’t mind about wearing commoner stuff. I don’t care for this social hierarchy at all.”

Vyn whistles, “How cute, coming from a person of privilege.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

“Right, right, of course. I’ll just have to trust your word then. Now, shall we get dressed?”

The two exit the guest bedroom and head to Vyn’s, which was a couple doors down the hall. They walked side by side. Though the servants and maids whispered among themselves, Marius was occupied with his thoughts.

He couldn’t get his mind off of the girl. Perhaps it was infatuation, or genuine curiosity. He created an illusion in his mind.

In his fantasies, he would speak with the girl. He would ask if she felt proud to be part of this bloodline of Goddess’s, or if she felt as if such a position did not suit someone like her. In his mind, she would hesitantly tell him her true thoughts, that she didn’t want to burn under the wrath of the burning water. He would say he felt the same, that he had always been crushed by the constant expectations of the people. He would hold her hand and promise that he would save her, that the two of them could run away together, and she would agree. And together they would-

“The advisors weren’t wrong about you and your constant daydreaming,” Vyn chuckled as he flicked his forehead. Marius flinched, groaning out loud as he slapped his hand above his eyes. The Tutor turned the knob and held the door open. “Hurry now; we wouldn’t want to miss the performance, would we?”

Marius huffed and stepped in, shoving the Tutor along his way. Inside, Artem sat at Vyn’s desk, reading a few documents. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his face wore a tired expression with the visible frown and disheveled hair.

It would be best not to piss off the Royal Justice.

“Artem,” Vyn called out. The grumpy man turned away from his papers and nodded at Vyn. When he noticed Marius, he heaved himself up to properly greet his king, but Marius quickly stopped him.

“Hey, sit down. I don’t need to hear any more honorifics than I should, and I would really hate hearing them from you.”

Artem sighed as he sat back down, pinching his nose bridge. “Sorry, I’m just completely exhausted right now. Work has been so swamped lately.”

Marius softened his eyes. “Is there anyway I can help you?”

The Royal Justice shook his head, “No. If you assisted me, word would spread that I am incompetent. There’s already enough rumors spreading around the castle.”

He had already known how brutally honest Artem was. Still, he could never get used to it. It ticked him off how Artem brushed him off like that; it felt insulting.

Before Marius could say any retort, Vyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Artem, how about we all take a break?”

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[moirai-au]

Timeline: Arc 2 - Outside, second part of this

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti @thebluejaysworld

This was a horrible idea.

He dug his hands in his pockets nervously, looking down at the concrete- how long had it been since he’d seen a sidewalk?

His vision was restricted by the hood of the kangaroo jacket Oliver had lent him for the trip, he could barely make out anything around him. The hoodie was too small for him, the sleeves barely reaching his wrists, and it was not suitable for the humid summer heat outside, but it felt soft and effectively hid his face from other people.

 Other people.

 He couldn’t see them, but they were here. Everywhere. He could hear them, catch tiny parts of their conversations when they crossed paths before their voices faded away, only to be replaced by more, always more. It had been so long since he’d heard voices other than his own, or Cecil’s, and more recently Ollie’s.

Three he could manage. But not dozens upon dozens, mingling together in an indistinguishable buzz.

He felt sweat roll down his temples, down his neck- Ollie had convinced him to tie his long, tangled mess of hair into a messy bun, so it wouldn’t get soaked or caught in something. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but now it wouldn’t stick to his back. That was something at least.

Their steps echoed in the streets, ricocheting on the tall buildings looming over them. So tall. So high. He didn’t dare look up, or he’d get lost in the vast expanse of open space above him, too much space, too open, too much noise. There was a smell, something like smoke and dust but also not, it stung the inside of his nose.

 Don’t be difficult, this will be good for you. You can’t stay hauled up in the property for the rest of your life, so quit acting like a toddler. Do you understand me, Marius?

 He grit his teeth, shaking off the flimsy memory- he didn’t need to hear Cecil belittle him right now. 

His heart thumped loudly in his ears, hands trembling with anxiety. He didn’t like this. He was still walking and he didn’t know where he was going, oh god he was lost and he didn’t know how to get back get back he wanted to go back he didn’t want to do this anymore-

“We’re here!”

 Mars snapped out of his panicked spiral, becoming aware of Oliver’s arm linked with his own. Oh. Right, he’d led him here, he wasn’t lost…

He turned to look down at him- the little menace was smiling up at him, a smile that was probably meant to be comforting. “See? Told you it wasn’t far. You’re okay, right?”

The taller man blinked, turning away to come face to face with the front of a peculiar building. Something squirmed at the edge of his memory, faint and far away- was that...

“C’mon, let’s go in! It’ll be a lot quieter inside,” he heard his companion chirp before he was pulled by the arm, yelping in surprise as they passed the sliding doors leading into the aquarium.

 ***

 ...Okay. He had to admit. It was a lot quieter inside.

Ollie had been right, surprisingly enough. Apart from the two, teenage-looking staff members that had looked surprised and a little too happy to see them enter earlier, there truly was nobody here but them. The air was cool and dry, a stark contrast to the heat outside, and the dim lighting gave the place a calm and intimate atmosphere.

It could’ve been much worse, all things considered...

While Oliver was chatting up a storm with the cashier at the entrance, Mars had drifted to the side, carefully removing his borrowed hood before letting out a deep breath. Turning his head to peer past the counters and inside the building, he caught sight of a few vertical, circular tanks on either side of the dark hallway, a luminescent path zigzagging and leading into a bigger room further ahead.

A boisterous laugh snapped him out of his observation, turning back to the counter to see the younger, denim-clad man bending forward, holding his sides as he laughed at something the cashier had evidently said, giver the teasing smile on the uniform-wearing teenager.

But something else caught his attention- a feeling, like pinpricks on the back of his neck. He turned a little more to the right and met the gaze of the second tenant, a small girl in a similar uniform as the cashier- probably a guide of some sort. She was staring at him, a neutral expression on her face, her head tilted to the side- but when their eyes met, she froze and quickly looked away, evidently embarrassed at being caught staring.

A wave of unease washed over him, turning away as well- he tapped on his mask nervously, reconsidering his decision once again. Of course people would stare, why wouldn’t they? A normal person didn’t wear masks, or linger in dark corners like some kind of freak-

“‘Kay, we’re good to go!”

“GAH!”

Mars startled loudly, putting a hand over his racing heart as he glared down at a beaming Ollie. “You- Will you stop doing that?!”

“Doing what?”

“That- ugh, nevermind.” the taller man groaned. Then he froze, an important realization dawning on him; museums… aquariums… those… cost money to visit, right? “O-Oliver, I didn’t bring-” 

Olier laughed and clapped Mars’ back good-naturedly, sending him stumbling a few feet ahead. “No worries, entry’s free on wednesdays! C’mon let’s go, I wanna see the sharks!” he chirped before taking off, following the glowing trail on the floor.

Mars lingered behind, watching as Ollie disappeared in the distance, the occasional flash of bright green jumping around from behind the different exhibits up ahead. He sighed, rubbing at his face under his mask, a headache already forming.

 ***

 Oh.

 He...wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. One minute he was his usual mix of apathy and annoyance, reluctantly shuffling between the exhibits -he’d seen a few crabs, shellfishes… all in little-to-medium-sized tanks, complete with explanation signs he didn’t bother to read.

And now he was standing gobsmacked in the middle of the back room, staring wide-eyed at a gigantic, curved-in aquarium.

Beams of light pierced through the surface above, casting a surprisingly warm glow on the inhabitants of the tank- a school of dozens upon dozens of tiny silver fishes, swimming in perfect synchronicity like they were all part of a single organism. Pale pink jellyfishes drifting through the water, like strange underwater ballerinas. A manta ray, graceful, massive, seemingly flying among this world of blue, occasionally disappearing behind pink and green flora.

The rest of the world was but a distant concept now- Mars barely realized he’d come closer, close enough to touch the glass panel separating him from the mesmerizing fragment of ocean in front of him. Something about this, the bluish hue surrounding him, the feeling of cold glass against his palm, looking up at those creatures drifting and swimming…

It felt familiar somehow.

“You’ve been looking at this display for a while. Are you certain you don’t want to see the others?”

“...”

“Alles klar. I’ll leave you to it then, but remember we must leave in about twenty minutes.”

“S’pretty, right?”

He almost yelped, jumping at the unexpected, unknown voice. He whirled around and stared at the girl -the one he’d caught looking at him earlier- that had somehow sneaked a few feet away from him- she was looking up at the tank with a playful smile, but faltered when she saw him react. “Oh, sorry sir, didn’t mean to startle you. That was rude.”

He blinked owlishly, his brain scrambling to find an appropriate reaction to this stranger suddenly talking to him; Squeezing his right arm tightly, he was suddenly finding the carpeted floor very interesting. “Um… t-that’s alright.”

An awkward silence followed. Mars wondered if he could get away with slowly walking out of the room.

“Oh, right, I also wanted to apologize.”

He turned to the guide once again, barely catching a glimpse of her light blue eyes before he looked away again, like her gaze burned him. “...Apologize?” he asked meekly. 

“Well, yeah. For staring, earlier.”

He grimaced, the knot in his stomach tightening at her words. “Ah… P-Please don’t, it’s fine, I know it’s uh… strange. The mask.” he stammered, fingers tapping against the sleek black material. If anything, he felt like apologizing now. For being weird, for making her feel like she owed him an apology, for being here, for existing-

“Oh, no,” her crisp voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts, “I mean don’t get me wrong, it looks cool, but that’s not why I was looking.”

He stilled, fingers frozen in a mid-tapping position. It… wasn’t?

She chuckled nervously, fiddling with a strand of her honey blonde hair. “Okay- this is gonna sound really stupid, but… you’re tall. Like, really tall. It’s kinda awe-inspiring.”

 ...What?

“I know, it’s weird, but c’mon” she rolled her eyes, “Have you seen me? I’m basically a hobbit, and you tall people are like giants.”

“W-What’s a hobb-”

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter, I don’t have to act all prim and proper while I’m here anymore. Place’s shutting down soon.”

He shook himself out of his confusion, trying to fake a calm-ish front- he was having trouble following this person’s trail of thought. At least with the doc he was able to have a coherent exchange most times... “R-Right, it’s getting a bit late…” 

The girl snorted. “Um, no it’s not? It’s barely four.”

Oh. 

“I meant closing down for good. Investors are pulling out, everyone’s flocking to the fancy new marine center next town over.”

She sighed, putting her hand flat against the glass. A few bright green fishes flocked to it for a second before turning back. “So yeah. Within a month or so my summer job will be toast.”

“Aw man, that sucks. I really liked this place.”

“Putain de-” Mars startled again, glaring daggers at his... companion, who’d once again popped out of nowhere. Did all smaller people do this? “Tu fais chier Ollie, I told you to stop-”

“‘Wassup Sunny,” the smaller man greeted the guide cheerily, completely ignoring Mars’ angry scowl. “Been a while.”

“‘sup man. Sorry I didn’t come and say hi, had stuff going on in the back.”

“Yeah? Does playing that cat collecting game on your phone count as work stuff?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. How ‘bout you? Still teaching people to kick ass?”

Mars groaned, letting their back-and-forth fade into background noise, instead electing to observe the lazy dance of the manta ray. It seemed like a pretty good life… being fed every few hours, having nothing to worry about but the warmth of the sun and the flow of the current…

 He had started to imagine a world filled with gigantic manta rays flying through the sky when he noticed the lack of chatter. He hesitantly took his eyes off the aquatic creatures to see that the guide -Sunny- was gone, leaving him and a cheerful ball of endless energy alone in the room.

Speaking of, Oliver tilted his head at him, a playful shine in his green eyes. “So? Whatcha think?”

Mars blinked in confusion. “Of…what?”

“Y’know. This place? You like it, right? Of course you like it, it was my idea, making people happier is what I’m all about!”

Then he laughed, a clear, over-the-top laugh that, against Mars’ better judgement, made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “I guess you are…” He hesitated, before taking a grounding breath. “So. The people here... are those, um… friends of yours?”

“Yeah! Went to the same school and everything. Sunny’s gonna get an engineering degree, and Mateo’s saving money to travel around. They’re chill.”

Mars nodded distractedly, a bitter feeling twisting his insides- Oliver had looked so utterly at ease talking to these people, laughing and joking like that’s what he was born to do. His own palms had gotten clammy just being talked to, heart racing and vision swimming, and he realized a little bit late that he hadn’t made eye contact the whole time he and the guide had interacted.

 Oh god. He wanted to crawl into a cave. “C-Can we leave now? I t-think I’m good. For today.”

More like for the next year or so, he thought tiredly. Stars, it had only been two hours or so, and he was feeling more drained than he ever had in his life.

“Sure,” Ollie nodded, his excited expression softening, “I get ya. Let’s go.”

 As they made their way back to the entrance, Mars couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heart- something old, but close. Warm. He was so caught up on whatever that feeling was that he didn’t even notice the people around him, walking alongside Oliver and him, crossing their path. What he did notice, however, was that he did tower over most, if not all of them. Huh. Guess… he was tall. He just hadn’t really had any frame of reference for a very, very long time. Well, other than Cecil obviously, but then again the doc was pretty tall himself.

 But if Ollie wouldn’t apologize for calling him a beanpole, he wouldn’t apologize for calling him fun-sized either.

 “Kay, we’re here. That was kinda fun, yeah?”

“It was…something.”

“...a bit lacking in the enthusiasm department there but I’ll take it! I’ll see you later then?”

“Afraid so.”

 It was only when he was finally back, sitting alone in the center of the greenhouse with the parakeets sedately pecking at his shoulders and hair that he realized he didn’t want this place to shut down.

 ***

 “Hallo?”

“Hey uh, it’s me.”

“...What is wrong this time? Did Oliver fall off a building? Someone else bleeding out in your flower beds?”

“No, this isn’t- nobody’s dying, and I’m fine, thanks for asking…”

“...Whatever this is, be quick about it. I have work to do.”

“Yeah, I figured. I was just-  I need advice on something.”

“...”

“It’s, uh… complicated.”

“If this is about sex, I left some explanatory flyers in the upper office years ago.”

“Wh- NO! Stars, not that kind of advice- ugh, why are you like this. I was wondering how to buy a building.”

“...”

“...Cecil?”

“I’m not even going to ask, it’s your money. Give me a minute to cancel every single plan I had today, this is going to take a while.”

-------------

putain de- : fucking-

tu fais chier : you suck / you piss me off / fuck you

[goodbyecringe]

(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 21

Éponine

“But you haven’t worn the flats in months Éponine,” Laila called from my closet.

“I’ve never taken dance lessons before. I want to be as comfortable as possible today,” I said, watching Miriam put the necklace Justine gave me around my neck.

“Or you need to be as comfortable as possible because this is the first time you’re seeing Enjolras since-”

“Why don’t you go clean the bathroom mirrors, Elise?” Miriam interrupted, which quickly sent Elise scurrying away.

“You didn’t have to do that, Miriam,” I shook my head.

“Ma’am, If you need another day we could say that your concussion is still bothering you,” Miriam suggested as I stood to put on the flats Elise set out.

“I can’t use it as an excuse forever. If Enjolras was going to send me home he would have done it already,” I said, mostly to ease my anxieties.

“Well, no one can say that you don’t look like a princess on your first day back,” Laila smiled.

As I looked at my reflection I realized that Laila was right about me looking like a princess. Claudia requested that during our dance lessons we were to wear tea-length dresses so our feet would be visible for easy corrections. The dress was a deep shade of emerald green that matched the upcoming holiday. Even though I had skipped breakfast in the Banquet Room Laila did a favor by putting my hair in a simple braid that made the gorgeous dress look more simple.

“Would you like me to walk with you?” Laila asked.

“Thank you but I don’t think Montparnasse has the guts to come out during the daylight,” I laughed, even though I knew I was lying.

Since the moment I told Miriam the truth about Montparnasse and my father it was like a weight had been lifted from my chest. She handled the entire situation better than I could have ever imagined. Unless I asked her about him directly she never mentioned him, which was something Elise and Laila picked up on very quickly. And even though I knew Montparnasse would come at me during any time of the day I needed to be alone before I was thrown back into the Selection. For once it wasn’t the girls that made me worry, but the press. I knew they would be filming our first day of lessons and I could only hope that they had no interest in interviewing us. I held my breath as a butler opened the door to the Banquet Room where most of the girls were already seated in anticipation of lunch. For once, I didn’t feel any eyes on me as I moved towards my seat between Cosette and Musichetta.

“I’m so glad that you’re able to join us!” Cosette said in her usual giddy tone.

“You came just in time to watch me take a swing at the Royal Brat,” Musichetta almost growled.

“Chetta and Teresa have had a few disagreements this week,” Cosette whispered while we stared at Musichetta.

“About what?”

“Does it even matter anymore? She thinks that every one that isn’t her is dirt. It’s beyond her usual Caste discrimination, which we’re all very sick of,” Chetta growled.

“Adele and Harley have been the most recent victims of Teresa’s harassment. Adele swears Teresa got one of her maids to ruin her ball gown so she might have to wear one of her old dresses,” Cosette explained.

Even though Teresa had always been rude to me she had never gone as far as blatant sabotage towards me. As lunch was served I began to piece together that Teresa probably wasn’t threatened by me, a Six. On the other hand, Adele and Harley were both Fours that come from relatively successful families that could pose a threat to her competition if they continued to gain traction with Enjolras. The most interesting part surrounding all of Teresa’s bullying was that I had never once heard her declare her love for Enjolras. Of course, she and every other girl would gush over his body, but I had yet to hear someone declare their love for Enjolras.

Thankfully I didn’t have to spend a long time mulling over the problems with the Selection since Claudia began to give an instructive lecture on ballroom dancing while lunch was being served.

“Ballroom dance is a necessary skill for any young woman that aspires to be a princess. It provides benefits in intellectual and social wellbeing that are conveyed to those dancing and watching the dancing. Dance is its own language that has brought together countless countries that were once at the brink of war,” Claudia explained passionately.

“I think she’s exaggerating a little,” Cosette giggled.

“I think Claudia’s last name is over-exaggerating,” I smiled.

Just as Claudia was entering an explanation of how a person’s teamwork skills are improved through ballroom dancing, Grantaire interrupted with the announcement of our dance partners. One by one the Friends of the ABC made their way into The Banquet Room, each with varying expressions of excitement and nervousness. We were instructed to mingle with the men while several butlers cleared the floor.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I step on your foot ‘Ponine. I haven’t been to a ball since I was twelve,” Marius said from behind me.

My stomach did a backflip at the thought of dancing with Marius.

“I’ve never been to a ball so I hope you're okay with your shoes getting scuffed,” I blushed.

“I debated wearing my steel-toed shoes, but I decided that I have total confidence in you,” Marius smiled before staring off at something behind me.

“Earth to Marius,” I laughed, waving my hand in front of his face.

“Éponine, who is that?” He asked, pointing to Cosette who was laughing at something Courfeyrac said.

“That’s Cosette.”

“She’s breathtaking,” Marius said, continuing to stare at her.

“Yeah, she’s beautiful.”

Before we could continue our conversation Grantaire was announcing the presence of Enjolras and we were being directed into a large circle. Before I could say anything Marius was rushing over the switch with Courfeyrac, who was originally partnered with Cosette.

“It’s so good to see you Éponine,” He bowed, holding out his hand.

“It’s good to see you too Courf. I’ve missed seeing everyone,” I said, curtseying.

“You have an open invitation to the Men’s Room whenever you’d like,” he smiled, putting his hand on my waist.

Claudia explained that every Elite girl would get a chance to dance with every Enjolras and that the men would rotate after every round. After looking around I realized that I would dance with Marius right before I danced with Enjolras, who was currently partnered with Liberty. Marius’s face was lit up like the Christmas Tree in my bedroom and Cosette’s face was light pink. Even while I struggled to dance with Courfeyrac I couldn’t stop staring at Marius. He had never looked at me the way he was looking at Cosette. But his face changed when he walked over to dance with May.

“Is everything okay?” Combeferre asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking at my feet, which were badly off tempo.

“Well, what I always try to do when I have too many things going on is focus on one thing at a time. I don’t mean to imply that whatever else you’re thinking about isn’t important, but these lessons will have a direct correlation with how well you do in front of everyone at the ball.”

As per usual, Combeferre was right. Claudia was going to tell the King and Queen about how badly I did during the lesson, which could affect how I stood among the Elite. I had already missed two weeks on history and etiquette lessons, and I knew those two weeks would make a difference. I tried to push Marius out of my head, but the pain I felt in the pit of my stomach was preventing me from prying my eyes away.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day Enjolras wore makeup,” I heard Ferre say, which snapped my attention away from Marius.

“Excuse me?” I asked in a panicked voice, turning my attention to Enjolras for the first time since his arrival.

It wasn’t very noticeable unless you knew where to look. I could barely make out that the right side of his face was more swollen then his left. And I could only imagine the color of his eye beneath the concealer Combeferre claimed he was wearing.

“I also never thought I’d see the day when someone finally gave what was coming to him.”

“He told you?” I asked, grinding my teeth together.

Combeferre nodded in response.

“I really don’t know what came over me. I never should have done that to him. If I would have taken time to process it my life could have been everything I’ve ever wanted. Now my sister is still suffering because of me.”

“He’s not mad at you if that’s what you’re worried about. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that you said no,” Ferre smiled.

“How could turning down the Crown Prince be a good thing?”

“You would be getting married for all of the wrong reasons. You would only be thinking about helping your sister and he would only be thinking about his beloved Patria,” he explained, spinning me around.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“You can start with being honest with him about your situation,” he said, giving me a very serious look before we switched partners.

None of the other conversations with my other dance partners were as serious as the one I had with Combeferre. From what I gathered Combeferre was probably the only other person that knew about what happened between Enjolras and me, which didn’t upset me. Most of the men were able to distract me from the worry in my stomach about Marius. Joly was more eccentric than usual and had me sanitize my hands before we could touch while Bossuet was actually better at dancing than I was.

“It’s the only thing I’ve been blessed with,” he smiled before moving on to his next partner.

I watched Marius smile as he made his way towards me. His smile brought me some comfort, but it wasn’t the smile he gave Cosette.

“‘Ponine, I feel like I could dance forever,” he smiled, placing his hand on my waist.

“Why is that?” I asked, fighting the butterflies in my stomach.

“I feel like I was just reborn into this Earth,” he said, spinning me.

At first, I couldn’t help myself but giggle while Marius twirled me around like a princess. And then I remembered the conversation I had with Cosette during the flight to Carolina.

“Isn’t Cosette the most lovely woman you’ve ever met?” Marius asked, bringing me back to reality.

“She’s great,” I almost whispered, staring at my feet.

Did people really fall in love this fast?

“I need to talk to her again. Do you think I would be able to visit her in private?”

“Only if you want to be executed,” I mumbled.

“Of course, I could never risk putting Cosette in that kind of danger. I could write her a letter!” He beamed, like a kid in a candy store.

“But you just met her? How do you know that your feelings are real?” I asked, tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

“I just know. She is the only thing I can think about, and now it’s like the world has more colors. Would you be able to help me with the letters, Éponine?”

There was no benefit to me helping Marius. Why would I help someone that was causing my heart to break into a million pieces?

“It’s the perfect set up ‘Ponine. You’re the only person that can go to Cosette’s room and the Men’s Room,” he carried on.

“What if I got caught?” I asked, still looking at my feet.

“I would take all of the blame, and if I caused you to experience any harm then I promise to compensate you for what you lost here.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want your money.”

“It doesn’t have to be money. I can get you and your sister out of Illeá. You can live on one of my grandfather’s properties and do whatever you want to in France,” he smiled.

How could I refuse him? And if this didn’t work out with Cosette, maybe Marius would see that I was the person he belonged with.

“Okay,” I mumbled as the song ended.

“Come by the Men’s Room after dinner and I’ll have it ready,” he said, bowing.

At least I had a few seconds to wipe the tears away before I had to face Enjolras.

[godsmercie]

10!

10. the timeline in which something big to them never happened.

She never left House Bartels. Her mother couldn’t go through with it, not bringing both her children with her when she wanted to run, so the three of them all stayed. Mercedes and her mother were still harmed constantly, both physically and emotionally, day after day, month after month, year after year. By the time she was 23, she was silent, never speaking unless spoken to, cowering at even the vaguest hint of violence- she was a lot like Bernadetta, but much quieter with her fear because she was taught that speaking or making any noise at all only made it worse. 

But she’s actively convinced she deserves it somehow, for being different, for some reason or other, because surely whatever force defines fate would not let her suffer thus without a reason. But her faith in the Goddess, in Fodlan and others- it’s no where near as strong as canon Mercedes’s.

and onto the drabble >:3 (tw: purposeful misgendering and dead-naming, physical abuse and trauma because the baron is Horrible)

“Marius,” she flinched, turning to face her stepfather, keeping her eyes to the floor.

“Y-yes, Baron?”

“You are going to the Officer’s Academy to assist Emile in his studies. I expect you to find yourself a wife with a crest while you attend. If you fail this, I assume you remember the consequences of disappointing me, correct?” His voice was harsh, grating- like nails on a chalkboard.She shook, remembering his threats towards her other younger siblings, towards her mother- she couldn’t not do as he said. She bowed, tears already forming in her eyes. She wished dearly that it was one of the days he pretended she didn’t exist.

“Y-yes, Baron, I- I understand. I will help Emile as best I can.” He hummed, snapping his fingers, and she flinched at the noise- he always snapped while casting Thoron, after all, and just the sound made her feel spikes of phantom pains all throughout the skin she still had feeling in. The baron chuckled.

“Good boy. You will be leaving tomorrow. Pack your things. If you’re still here by midday tomorrow, you know what will happen, boy.” She caught sight of his fingers flashing with electricity and shook more, because she couldn’t leave, not until he released her. Last time she’d done so, he’d growled and added to the pained tapestry of her skin- a cruel motley of tree-like scars, where her nerves were half fried, with so little sensation left in so much of her body, a red burn on her neck where the Baron held her up against the wall and cast Fire against her when she reflexively grabbed at his wrists to breathe.“Go,” he barked. She nodded, walking away as quickly as she could without  being rude.

Emile was angry, of course- he was angry at most things now, but the Baron in particular always made his blood boil. Mercedes didn’t blame him. “And he told you that?! He’s disgusting, Mercedes!” She gave a weak laugh, folding his clothes for him to pack away.

“Yes, he- he is, but...” she played with her hair, tucking the too-short strands behind her ear. “Well, at least it, uhm, gets us away from him for a little while...”

“And leave Maman, Azelma, Jean, and Gavroche alone with him? Ma soeur, I know you can’t stand it just as I can’t-”

“Yes,” she answered, cutting him off, “but what else can I do, Emile? What- what else can either of us do? He- he threatened to kill them if I didn’t listen, mon coeur- I... I couldn’t live with myself if I had- had their blood on my hands, Emile. I know you couldn’t either.” She clenched the shirt in her hands, looking at her feet. “What could we ever do to- to-”

“Kill him.” She dropped the shirt as she whipped around, horrified, the shaking getting worse again. His voice was so- so level, as if that was the simple answer, the only thing that made sense. And she hated that a part of her agreed instantly.

“E-Emile! You- we can’t- you can’t just say things like that! That monster has- has power, Emile! Influence! If he- if he died people would come lo-looking, and would pun- punish the killer!” she whisper-yelled. She knew better than to speak up in this house. Emile just gave her a blank look.

“Not if we made it look like a bandit attack.” She was shaking- Goddess, she was always shaking a little, but now she was like a leaf in the autumn winds, unsure of where the powerful winds were taking her, wondering how she’d ever be happy under Bartels’s thumb (she wouldn’t,) how she’d finally get to be herself if he lived (she wouldn’t,) how she’d ever live with herself after killing a man in cold blood (its not cold blood if he’s killed, if he taunts death at every turn, her mind whispered) and she looked up at Emile, meeting his eyes, one arm desperately leaning against his wardrobe while her other clenched the air desperately. Her face was pulled into a scared expression, and then she pursed her lips.

“...How would we do that?” she asked, voice soft, and the relief that filled his eyes just at that made her certain they were making the right decision.

[marius-vieremont]

Ghost & Marius

[20:40]Marius Vieremont | The door to the clinic opened with the ring of a little bell above the door. Inside the small building, it smelt of fresh herbs and various potions, anti-septics and poultices - an earthy sort of scent, overall pleasant. The place was spotless, immaculately clean and, for the most part tidy. The same could be said of the elezen who raised his head to gaze in the direction of the door. "Hello," he greeted, unfocused silvery gaze searching out who had come to the clinic this day.

[20:47]The Phantom glanced upwards briefly on hearing the chime of a bell go off.  He physically cringed at the noise. The door was eased shut by the addition of his weight leany back against it."Evening." Softly spoken, his voice holding a smoky rasp quality. His gaze made a quick sweep of the interior of the place. Force of habit really.  Soon enough his attention settled on the man that spoke.  "Rumour has it someone here might be of the mind to help me?"  His left arm stayed pinned against his side, the finger twitching periodically.  Periodically, a droplet of blood slid from the tips of his fingers, marring the floor in crimson polka dots.

[20:51]Marius Vieremont stood immediately, a faint glimmer lighting his eyes as his gaze locked onto the other man, intently focused on whatever injury lay below that left arm. "Of course," he said quickly. "Do come and sit down," he continued, motioning toward one of the two beds. "Please remove your jacket."

[20:55]The Phantom 's left arm held in place a long strip of cloth that might've once been a part of a drape.  Now it decorated his waist and lower rib area, wound tight and pinned in place with a bo shuriken.  At the man's bidding, he shoved away from the door to take a few steps towards where the other motioned.  The request drew him to a halt.  His head hung a moment, a low breath sucked in.  "Remove..."  He should have expected that.  Knew it really.  A quick nod and he continued over to one of the beds.  "You're the mender then?"  A glance was sent over towards the man, eyes narrowing into fine lines behind his mask.

[21:00]Marius Vieremont || "I am," Marius confirmed, following him over to the bed with the soft clack of heeled boots, coat swirling around his legs. An older man, his hair was streaked with dignified silver, though no wrinkles yet marred his smooth, narrow features. Not /that/ old, then. Stripping off his gloves, he laid them on the table at the foot of the bed. "You needn't feel anxious. I won't ask how it happened, nor require that you tell me aught other than what you wish."

[21:05]The Phantom inclined his head.  He stopped next to one of the beds.  With one hand available, he started the tedious task of removing his jacket.  A dagger clattered onto the table, followed by a sheath housing various smaller knives, shuriken, and a metal hairpin or two.  "Convenient.  Took a bit of tumble and caught my side on something sharp.  Thing is, I can't reach it to deal with it myself. "  He slid the pinning shuriken from the cloth, needing to unwrap it in order to get near his own clothing beneath.  "Give y'fair warning, m'not a fan of people touching me.  Try t'keep it to a minimum, yeah?"  He dropped the ruined drape on the floor.

[21:13]Marius Vieremont turned away, pacing in counted steps toward the small preparation area off to the side. There's the quiet sounds of implements being placed on a tray before Marius returns to the bed, setting the tray down on the table. He frowned faintly. "Took a tumble? That's unfortunate. I can certainly see you stitched up and on the path to recovery, however." There was a pause, then a dry smile. "Mmn, I am not a fan of people touching me, either. We have that in common. I will do what I can to minimize my contact."

[21:17]The Phantom huffed out a breath.  "Yeah, well, wasn't expecting the damn bird underfoot.  Bloody thing came outta nowhere."  His head lowered while he pulled apart the fastenings of his coat.  One hand slid inside to flatten against the skin near the wound.  His other hand moved to peel the leather off his torso, a few more clunks heard as the coat fell to the floor.  The thin undershirt he wore beneath the leather was well soaked in his blood yet he hesitated to pull it off as well.  A deep breath and he yanked it up over his head, adding it to the pile of his things on the floor.  His jaw clenched under the mask he still wore.  If he had to stand being half naked with a damn stranger, then he wasn't losing that.  "Appreciate the help."  He ground the words out, sounding anything but appreciative.

[21:24]Marius Vieremont || "Bird?" he inquired absently, his pale gaze still glinting brightly as he examined the other man. "Oh, I'm being rude. Marius Vieremont, at your service," he added. "Do you've a name, then? Need to stop this bleeding first." Reaching out, he pressed a bared, slender hand against the wound, his touch dry and cool. Magic flared to life under his palm, faintly green-tinted light glowing as if his skin was translucent. There'd be a soft tingling sensation deep in the wound that quickly grew warm, then hot, as Marius forced muscle and the deeper skin layers to heal faster than they normally would have on their own.

[21:28]The Phantom lowered his head.  His hands curled into fists at his sides the moment Marius's hand came against his skin.  Muscles tensed and he focused on the sound of the other man's voice instead of the one in his head.  "Marius Vieremont."  There was a mildly curious hint to his voice, like he wasn't sure that was the first time he'd heard the name.  Not that he could place why right then.  His breath sucked in between clenched teeth, eye lashes dipping to shutter his gaze.  The warmth his vaguely recognized for what it was.  His head turned sharply towards Marius the moment things got hot.  One hand snapped up to grasp at Marius's wrist, not that he made to pull the hand away.  "Ghost."  He nearly choked the name out after stumbling over the initial consonant, like he couldn't decide what name to give.

[21:34]Marius Vieremont didn't answer while his attention was focused so intently on healing, only hummed a quiet affirmative - then made a sympathetic sound at the reaction to the aetheric reaction. He did startle as his wrist was so abruptly clasped, the flow of aether dropping immediately. "I apologize, I should have warned you," he offered. "Still, that should be good enough that I can begin stitching now. I have a paste to spread over the edges which will numb the area, Ghost," he replied, making no mention the odd name. Perhaps it was a favored nickname.

[21:39]The Phantom shakes his head.  "Just been awhile since I've let someone else do it."  He pries his hand off Marius's wrist.  He'd need it for stitching after all.  Phantom exhaled a long breath.This was going to get weird in a hurry. He lowered his head, letting the sheet of black hair streaked with silver slide over his shoulder to help hide his face more.  "Numb it, huh?  Won't feel any pain then?"  Things might've just looked up.

[21:42]Marius Vieremont canted his head slightly. "Are you a healer yourself, then?" he asks, interested. Reaching down onto the tray, he eventually locates a jar that he unscrews the top from. Immediately, a pungent aroma filled the air. "No, it won't hurt. You shouldn't feel anything at all, aside from perhaps a bit of tugging."

[21:48]The Phantom shrugs slightly.  "Used to work for an arcanist.  He liked interesting trinkets I could get him.  So as part of my pay, he taught me some of what he knew. Couple mending runes  being part of them.  Only, m'not that great at it yet. Figure I'll find someone someday that might be interested in exchanging services again."  He furrowed his brow and turned his head again at the pungent smell.  He eyes the jar then lifts his gaze up to Marius's face.  "Managed to put a miracle in a jar? Impressive.  Y'just became my favourite healer."

[21:54]Marius Vieremont chuckled at the last bit. "Less a miracle than an appropriate combination of herbs and reagents," he said dryly, taking a wide wooden stick and dipping it into the thick, viscous gel. "Hold still," he said, then reached out to start painting the edges of the wound with it, his touch gentle. "I could be interested in teaching you, potentially," he said, after a moment. "Though I don't know what trinkets you could get for me that I'd be interested in. I deal more in information, outreach programs for the poor, and - as you can see - my clinic."

[21:58]The Phantom wrinkles his nose and shifts his arm out of the way of the gash trailing his side and lower back.  He shivered slightly as the ointment was painted onto his skin.  He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on his breathing patterns.  Still, it was hard to ignore, that slight sting that etched itself into his nerves, trailed as heat into his blood.  No, no.  No pain.  And then words caught his attention.  "Information."  He cracked his eyes open and stared at the far wall.  "M'fairly decent at getting my foot in damn near any door I want."  He paused in the boast and quietly murmured, " Or window."  Before continuing at his normal raspy speaking volume. "Only thing t'catch me yet's been the damn bird.  The squawking kind with wings.  I don't fly as well as they do.  Could keep y'back as well, make sure no one goes stepping where they shouldn't be, that kinda thing.  Sharp things there aren't for show." His gaze flicked down to the daggers he'd dumped on the table.

[22:06]Marius Vieremont || It doesn't take long at all for the numbing ointment to take effect and within moments, his entire side should be utterly without feeling. Still, the mage waits a few beats before taking up the needle and thread, before pressing two fingers against the edge of the wound. "Do you feel this?" he asks before considering the other information Ghost had laid out. "All of those services would be entirely useful to me," he mused. "There are those in Ul'dah who dislike the idea that anyone should help the poor and downtrodden. I run an organization called the Covenant of Ash. I could hire you on and teach you as recompense for your work."

[22:12]The Phantom holds very still.  He can feel the sensation vacating the skin that had been so awfully angry with him earlier.  His head lifted and he peered over his shoulder at Marius.  He'd already likely said too much.  "Yeah?  And y'don't care what else I do outside of work for you?  Couple little street rats will be awful pissed if they lose their guaranteed breakfast off me."  His smile went unnoticed beneath his mask.  "S'don't think I mind what your organization does.  Been liberating things from the rich for awhile."  He shook his head at the question. "And no, don't feel a thing."

[22:17]Marius Vieremont chuckles warmly. "It sounds as if you'll fit right in," he murmurs, his full attention on the wound as he begins to sew. The stitches are small, neat and tight enough to hold well. "It sounds as if you are already on the road to charitable giving," he murmurs. "And no, I do not mind what work you do outside of the Covenant, so long as Covenant business remains as such. I prefer not to have too many eyes prying into my business," he comments. He makes quick work of the stitchery, tying it off with a neat knot and trimming the length of reinforced silk. "Just one last bit," he added, reaching into a pocket and withdrawing what looks like a vial of oiled ashes.

[22:25]The Phantom furrowed his brow and set his jaw when he noticed Marius beginning the task of stitching.  He knows what this is supposed to feel like without the numbing ointment and it throw him off to find he scarcely feels anything.  Slivered eyes glance down then back forwards.  "If you're serious, then I'm in.  M'skills at your displosal for learning some yours."  He nods once and continue to hold still.

[22:31]Marius Vieremont inclines his head. "Mmhm, I am entirely serious," he replied. "I enjoy teaching and it would be my pleasure to show you what I know," he replies, uncorking the little vial. Upending it over his pointer finger, he slowly, carefully paints a few sigils over the wound with the ashes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Once finished, he lifts his hand again and reaches for the clean bandages on the tray. "Let's wrap you up, shall we?"

[22:37]The Phantom tips his head slightly to one side.  There were a myriad situations where this might bite him in the ass down the road.  However, what he wanted meant extending the man behind him an inkling of trust to uphold the deal and not turn him in at some point.  "Hm?"  He blinks out of his reverties and lifts his arms just enough to get them out of the way of bandaging.  "Oh, yeah, right.  Thanks."  His gaze settled over one shoulder again, the mask blessedly hiding any expression beneath it.

[22:41]Marius Vieremont carefully wound the clean cloth around Ghost's abdomen, snugging it close to his still-numb skin. Pinning it in place with proper clasps, he takes a step back, the glimmer fading from his silvery pale eyes. Reaching out to the tray once more, he screws the top back onto the container that holds the numbing ointment. "Here, take this with you. If it starts to hurt, just slather this generously over it. I'll expect to see you back in one week to check on your wound. As for teaching you, I should have some time Sun-day afternoon, if you are available. I have a few students under my purview, just so that you're aware.”

[22:42]Marius Vieremont: "Second bell of the afternoon."

[22:46]The Phantom waited until Marius stepped back from him.  He turned partially towards him, gaze studying the elezen for a moment while he listened. At the offer to the ointment, a slight sound of surprise escaped him.  Few gave him things.  "Y'sure?"  Nevermind small pots of numbing gold.  He didn't really wait for an assurety, reaching out to take the jar from Marius.  "Sure, Sunday.  M'gonna assume I'm not at liberty to go running the rooftop highways."  He hooked his coat with his boot and lifted it high enough to scoop the garment into his arms.  He stuff the jar in a pocket and then shrugged the filthy coat back on.  Nothing for it at the moment.  At least this time he could refasten it with both hands.  Daggers and the sheathe are both returned to their rightful places.  "And one week.  Got it.  Y'need anything from me in the meantime?"

[22:51]Marius Vieremont smiled gently at the sound of surprise - he'd heard that sound many a time, from recipients of his unexpected gifts. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," he said, even after the pot had left his hand. Wiping both his hands off on a cloth, he slid his gloves back on. "And no, I would highly recommend taking it easy, at least until I see you next." He considered the question, then nodded. "There is one thing you could do. I was recently offered a contract for services from one Dravitus Akaelos. He has a multi-national company called Reign Enterprises. I'd like to know more about the man and his business, discreetly. Where his alliances lay and such. Do you think you could find out?"

[22:57]The Phantom arched a single eyebrow.  Take it easy?  He huffed a breath out through his nose but nodded.  He could last a week with his feet on the ground.  "Dravitus Akaelos.  Reign Enterprises."  He repeats the names, and then nods.  "Sure could see what I can find, yeah.  You got anything else on him at present?  What he looks like, places he might frequent?  That sorta thing or am I starting from the ground up?"

[23:04]Marius Vieremont 's mouth twists slightly in a dry smile. "I'm afraid I've no idea what he looks like. Despite what you've seen this evening, I'm quite blind," he said, his tone flat. "So you'll have to start from the ground up, I'm afraid. He has an associate, Milja, that's all that I'm aware of, other than what I've told you already." Turning to the side, he clears the way to the door. "Don't pry too hard. From meeting the man, I get the impression he wouldn't take kindly to finding out about my looking into him."

[23:08]The Phantom huffs out a short laugh.  He digs a hand into his pocket.  "I'll use care then and keep y'name out of it.  Mean, not like he knows y'have me, now does he?"  A small pouch was slid from his pocket.  He lowers his head to extract the item he wanted from within it and sets it on the table.  They're the only things of value he ever carries on him. Coins.  Old ones well worth more than the denomination etched on the coin work.  He sets it on the table and stuffs the pouch away.  "Thanks for the the mending.  See y'on sun-day then."  He took a few steps towards the door then pauses a moment.  "Here?"

[23:12]Marius Vieremont shakes his head. "No, it isn't. Though you may be meeting Milja on Sun-day. She is one of my students." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a linkpearl and holds it out toward the direction Ghost had gone in, judging from the sound of his voice. "You're welcome. Take this, it's the pearl for the Covenant. It is a secured line, so anything you say will be safe - barring, of course, details from your assignment, as Milja has one as well."

[23:12]Marius Vieremont: "And yes, the lessons will be held here."

[23:15]The Phantom glances towards the pearl.  He turns on his heel to return close enough to take it off Marius's palm.  "Got it.  I'll use care what I say then and try t'keep anything I find out to telling you in person."  He tucked the pearl away.

[23:17]Marius Vieremont nodded. "Very good, then. This was a most fortuitous meeting - you for healing and acquiring a teacher, and myself for finding out more about a potential business partner, and acquiring another student. It was good to meet you, Ghost."

[23:20]The Phantom gives a quick nod of his head.  He doesn't offer out his hand, instead leaving them to rest lightly on the butts of his daggers.  "Sure was.  Glad that kid sent me this way.  Now I just gotta live down letting a bird scare me off a roof.  I'll be in touch."  Knowing those urchins, it'll be many moons before they stop making bird sounds at him.  He takes a step back before moving towards the door again.

@phantom-xiv and @dravitus-akaelos and @milja-svartur for mentions

[kiruuuuu]

Making out like a Bandit Part 2/3

I’m sorry tumblr, I have failed you. My pie hole is a lie hole. I claimed this was only going to be 2 parts and then my need for filth inspiration ran away with me, as it usually does with fics that aren’t snippets. I promise it’ll stay 3 parts though and I’m almost done (and part 3 is pure smut so I hope that makes up for it). Also I finally have a title for this!

Enough rambling, here’s more Bandit/Jäger origin ❤ (Rating T/M, fluff slowly morphing into, uh, more, ~3.6k words)

.

Dom’s hand is in the nape of his neck.

Where before he already didn’t care about the game, now he’s absolutely unable to follow it even if he wanted to – his eyes stay open and fixed on the screen in front of them yet his mind is blissfully vacant, occupied only with the tactile sensation of gentle fingertips on his skin in one of his most sensitive places. He’s obsessing about not moving too much lest the hand disappears, controls his breathing very carefully until he almost becomes light-headed and is forced to take deeper breaths, and simultaneously fights the urge to stretch towards it, curl against it and even rub his cheek -

A thumb runs over his hairline, brushing over the short hairs and creating a tingling feeling that runs down his spine. Dom isn’t even aware of doing it, he’s happily chatting with his uncle about something while occasionally stopping when the ball approaches a goal. The last topic Marius remembers was former East Berlin and how the outskirts still don’t have proper sewage pipes though now one of them mentions something being delicious so he’s pretty sure they’ve moved on to something else by now. He clenches his teeth when ticklish touches turn into a light massage, digits digging into tense muscles and this is definitely the wrong moment to moan though he so desperately wants to.

It’s the second half of the game already, they took a small break at halftime and Marius almost laughed when his uncle offered Dom coffee instead of beer – his slightly formal attire and general politeness must have him thinking that Dom is nothing but a respectable citizen of higher standing than his nephew yet all Marius recalls is the scruffy, bleary-eyed dude Cedrick introduced to him. Then it registered that he’d be left alone with his fake boyfriend for the duration it takes to produce said coffee and he quickly fled to the bathroom; he didn’t want to be tempted once again, he wants to get this whole affair over with as cleanly as possible so he can go home, curl up in his bed and die of mortification.

When he returned, his plan was to sit down a reasonable distance away from Dom, ask his uncle a bit about the rest of their family, gossip about some of his colleagues as well as brag about his latest achievements but it got blown to smithereens straightaway because Dom pulled him against the long line of his body and the arm that’s been draped on the backrest folded so the hand could slide over Marius’ shoulder to the back of his neck and that’s how he got here, purring internally at the affectionate gesture that’s probably meant to be casual yet instead does something funny to Marius’ belly. The other two must notice that he’s being uncharacteristically quiet though he feels his uncle chalks it up to him allowing the two to get to know each other better, which is why he’s holding back. And Dom… Dom must think him an idiot who’s trying to not make an even bigger idiot out of himself.

Hopefully, neither of them suspect Marius is having a small mental breakdown. After all the stress of last week, he’s exhausted and content now, glad it’s over and even gladder his coming out went nothing short of fantastic though this means he’s giddy with relief, not to mention charged with new energy – and coupled with the fact that he’s so close to Dom he might as well be sitting in his lap, that he smells divine and… dear God now he’s stroking over that spot right under his ear and he involuntarily presses against the warm palm, tilts his head and freezes when the movements stop. There’s a short pause, Dom hesitates in the middle of his story before picking up again, and then fingers push into his short hair, dig into the base of his skull and drag over his scalp and the feeling is almost orgasmic.

His eyes threaten to slide shut so he bites the inside of his cheek, hard, trying not to telegraph all the lovely things Dom’s ministrations are doing to him, only then Dortmund scores the first goal of the otherwise mediocre match. This alone wouldn’t mean anything to him, he doesn’t have a preferred team, but Dom cares and so his hand glides lower in distraction, wraps around the back of Marius’ neck and squeezes, the touch decidedly possessive and dominant and this is when Marius notices all his blood flowing south. While the goal is being shown in slow motion from all possible angles, he excuses himself with a dry throat, gets up and walks into the kitchen without once looking back at Dom. He doesn’t need to make this any worse than it already is.

He fills a glass with tap water, downs it in one go and then exasperatedly addresses his own crotch under his breath: “Don’t do this to me. Not now. I’ll take care of you later, but just… don’t.” He’s hit with the sudden image of Dom using his lips instead of his hand and his half-hard dick gives a feeble, hopeful twitch. Barely, he resists the urge to pour another glass over his own head, forces himself to think of something, anything else and returns to the couch.

A minute later, Dom is gently playing with his earlobe. And that – that just isn’t -

He flees again.

.

It’s a vicious cycle. At first, he notices the motor stuttering, then, while he troubleshoots, he stumbles over one of the rotor blades being crooked, and the deeper he delves into the model, the more imperfections he spots, the more he wants to take it apart completely, fix it, improve it, modify it. His uncle noticed his knack for all kinds of machinery very early on and had no qualms about buying him expensive toys, knowing he’d take good care of them and use them to gather knowledge – this trend is still ongoing, sometimes his uncle visits flea markets and purposefully acquires broken toys just so Marius can piece them back together, restore them during one of his visits to keep his hands busy while they chat.

He never lost his taste for it and so he’s blissfully unaware of the world around him as he sits on the dirty floor of the garage, various components strewn around him and his old toolbox open next to him. Whenever he focuses on identifying the workings behind certain mechanisms and how pieces interlock, nothing else matters to him, therefore he’s rudely dragged back into the real world when he hears voices approaching. He left half an hour before the game was over, too charged and distracted to pay heed to anything else, took a short time to cool down and shake off the feeling that Dom knows exactly what he’s doing and is merely enjoying the attention.

As soon as they step into the garage, Dom ignores him in favour of the bike and enthusiastically expresses his adoration for anything motorcycle, granting Marius a longer grace period during which he can avoid talking to either of them. That is, until he hears the following: “Yeah, I actually have a Harley.”

His eyes snap up to the unfortunately still extremely attractive man. “You do?”, he asks, incredulous, because how come he never mentioned it before – he knows how much of a vehicle enthusiast Marius is, must’ve heard from Cedrick or gathered from their conversations… But that’s probably it, he might not have realised. This is definitely something that would’ve come up in a real relationship though, no doubt, it’s absolutely impossible he wouldn’t know. Is this what finally makes his throne of lies crumble right below his anxious ass?

“Oh”, says Dom and his expression tells him that he, too, is now aware of their gaffe. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? I did end up buying it from that dude with the…” He makes a vague gesture in front of his chest and Marius nods quickly, as if he knew what he was talking about. “It’s still in mint condition but I’ve barely tested it out yet.”

“Harleys have always been his favourites”, his uncle comments and judging by how cheery he looks, he doesn’t seem to have noticed they almost slipped up thanks to Dom smoothly covering for him. “Since he’s now obsessed with helis, I’m positive it’s because they’re equally as loud.”

Seems like the disaster is averted. The two of them share a secret glance and a half-hidden smile that has Marius’ heart pumping faster but they’re back in safe territory now. While he continues tinkering with the model chopper of which he’s now certain that it’s been purchased for his benefit only, Dom showcases his in-depth knowledge that even impresses Marius’ uncle – so that naturally, Marius decides to show off a little as well and explains in detail what exactly he’s doing to the poor toy and why. It feels slightly childish to boast in response but he has the sudden urge to prove himself somehow. However, Dom listens with genuine interest, making Marius feel sheepish about his pettiness, a notion that only increases the longer his uncle silently observes them, visibly amused.

And then Marius yawns. It’s a full-body yawn, complete with stretching his torso and tensing his legs, it’s eye-watering, satisfying and makes his jaw pop which leads him to a worrying question. “What time is it anyway?”

His uncle checks his wristwatch. “Just past midnight.” What. They’ve been here entirely too long, he promised Dom the whole thing wouldn’t take more than a few hours, definitely not the entire evening and even into the night – he needs to drive them back, too, drop him off at Cedrick’s and getting home will take even longer - “Honestly, isn’t it better if you both sleep here? It’s quite a drive at this hour.”

Panic settles firmly in Marius’ gut and makes itself comfortable: it’s there to stay. Because there is no way this is happening. “Thanks, but I don’t think -” He yawns once more and no, he’s probably not helping his case with this.

“I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow morning”, Dom cuts in sweetly, all smiles, “and I don’t recall you do. Also, with how you’ve been driving lately, I’d rather not take any chances.”

The smug bastard. Marius glares at him and desperately tries to come up with a different excuse, any sensible reason why they shouldn’t stay yet his own conscience is working against him, whispering scenarios into his ears that are as scorchingly hot as they are improbable and he’s done this. He’s had guys “forget” the time the last bus for the night leaves, he’s spent the night next to ones who were completely ignorant and all of them were straight and he allowed some of them to take advantage of his desperation and though he keeps telling himself he’s better than this and deserves more, he’s deadly curious to see how many pieces of clothing Dom will remove to sleep, whether he’s going to continue his teasing and, if so, how far he’ll go. Even if all he gets is a half-hearted hand job after blowing him for an hour it’ll be worth it because after all those electrifying touches earlier he’s dying to get his hands on Dom.

And so, he agrees. Reluctantly and with the suspicion he’s ultimately going to regret it, but he agrees.

.

“Is this your old room?”, Dom asks as soon as Marius has closed the door behind him and lowers his voice at an indication to be quieter: “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You are a giant nerd.”

This is a detail Marius has conveniently forgotten. Even if there was a way to explain the extremely detailed rendition of the solar system painted on the wall (of which he’s still proud, thank you very much, and Pluto is his personal favourite), his extensive collection of famous cars, motorcycles and space ships recreated with Lego blocks is harder to justify. “Look”, he begins, intending to defend himself until he notices how tired he is of making excuses for the things he likes just because someone he admires might think them odd. He’s done enough of that. “Let’s just – let’s just sleep, alright?”

Dom looks at the queen-size bed and shrugs. “Sure. I just thought we could -” Marius puts his finger to his lips again. “What is it, is your uncle’s room right next to yours?” He nods and Dom’s eyebrows lift considerably. “Well, I hope that doesn’t get too inconvenient.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and suddenly it’s a conscious effort to hold his gaze instead of letting it drop to the toned chest he’s slowly revealing. Marius’ throat goes dry because where he was worrying about his coolness factor just a minute ago, now he’s worrying about his soon-to-manifest boner being visible through his jeans.

“What do you mean?”, he wants to know absent-mindedly.

“I thought that I’m being pretty obvious, to be honest”, comes the enigmatic reply that remains a mystery up to the point where Dom has removed his shirt, exposing his pronounced muscles, and now opens his trousers and ah.

Alright.

So he really is one of those guys.

Marius loses it. If he’d asked politely, if he’d waited until they were in bed and had turned off the light so they can both pretend it never happened the next day, if he’d made a suggestion, sure, it would’ve been fine – well, not fine, not really, Marius would still beat himself up over it, but he would’ve complied without protest because Dom has been exceedingly pleasant all day, not to mention drool worthy. And no, it’s worse than that, he’s been actually nice. Seriously likeable, Marius liked him and was considering trying to stay in contact despite the fact that he made a total idiot out of himself and that’s saying something. Usually he tries to distance himself from people who’s seen him at his worst.

Yeah. He’s not doing this.

“No”, he hisses quietly and some of his ire must bleed into his intonation since Dom halts and looks up at him, alarmed, “no. I’ll tell you what we’re going to do: we’re going to go to sleep, get up in the morning and drive home and that is it. I’m sick of straight guys like you acting like you’re entitled to a blow job just because you’ve helped a gay dude out or because you happen to be super hot. It doesn’t mean I want to fuck you and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re doing me a favour. You want to sleep here so badly? Sure. But I swear, if you touch me or try anything else, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Dom seems thunderstruck by his outburst which doesn’t surprise Marius – he doesn’t expect he gets called out on his bullshit a lot, probably is used to getting his way. Filled with righteous fury, he moves around him, pulls the thin blanket off his bed that his uncle keeps there so the sheets don’t collect dust, switches the bedside lamp on and the overhead one off, sheds his jeans in preparation for sleep and enters the adjacent bathroom to brush his teeth. Calling it a bathroom is an exaggeration, it’s hardly more than a toilet as well as a washbasin embedded in a shelf yet as a forever-horny teenager or an adolescent who sometimes had “sleepovers” with his “guy friends”, it was a godsend and facilitated cleaning up immensely. Grimly determined not to let Dom’s incredulity get to him, he angrily attacks his mouth with the coarse bristles.

There’s movement behind him, he can see it in the mirror, and when Dom appears in the door frame, leans against it and crosses his arms, he’s donned his open shirt again and his jeans are buttoned up. He looks… soft, is probably a good word to describe him, sympathetic yet not apologetic for some reason, his expression gentle and his eyes attentive where they meet Marius’ in the mirror. “I’m not straight”, he says, careful not to be too loud. Marius’ brows draw together. He knows Dom isn’t gay, Cedrick mentioned an ex-girlfriend and - “I’m bi.”

Marius’ hand stills.

“When my parents caught wind of it, they threw me out”, he adds and it’s like a punch to the gut.

“Shit”, he replies around a mouth full of toothpaste and means it. Dom sounds sincere. It changes everything, puts everything he did today in a completely new light and Marius hasn’t felt this terrible in a long, long while. To buy himself some time, he spits, rinses his mouth and wipes it with one of the fresh towels his uncle gave them before he dares facing Dom once more. “What about Cedrick?”

A shrug, then a bitter smile. “He doesn’t care. He’s just lucky he never got caught.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I’m -”

“You had nothing to do with it.”

“No, for what I said. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He trails off because both of them know he did mean it yet was missing vital pieces of information.

“It’s fine. You obviously didn’t know.” He’s about to object – it’s not a good enough excuse for assuming so much – but Dom asks: “Does that happen to you often? People taking advantage of you?”

Marius nods hesitantly. “I let them. It’s my fault, too.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch. We can tell your uncle I snore or steal the blanket or something.”

This – this is an earnest suggestion, no, even more: he’s not leaving the decision to Marius who basically just admitted to sometimes not being able to decide things in his own favour, Dom is resolving this himself to avoid creating any discomfort. Together with his other revelations, it’s too much. He accompanied Marius without even knowing him, offered him help that was denied to himself when he faced a similar situation, he played along voluntarily, saved his ass, merely assumed there was a mutual attraction based on Marius’ reactions to him (with which he was spot-on) and now he’s giving up the comfort of a proper bed and a warm body next to him purely so Marius doesn’t get the chance to hurt himself.

Dom readily wraps his arms around Marius’ shoulders when he sinks against him, pulls him close and tightens the embrace as Marius takes a deep breath. For a moment, it’s just that: a comforting hug. Dom’s solid body and his warmth calm him down and he hopes it goes both ways because if someone deserves to feel cosy, it’s definitely Dom. “Thank you”, he tells him, murmurs it over his shoulder and as a response, a hand buries itself in his hair and is about to massage him back into a catatonic state of bliss when he adds: “I don’t want you to sleep on the sofa, though.”

There’s a pause, then Dom withdraws slightly to look at him directly and the question is on the tip of his tongue, Marius can sense it, he’ll want to know whether he’s sure, whether he’s serious, whether he’s thought about it, and instead of allowing it to fill the space between them with doubt, he decides to lick it off. He locks their lips, slides his over Dom’s and is met with instant enthusiasm, making him stumble backwards until he hits the shelf. They kiss with all the desperation of lovers filled with longing after external circumstances have kept them apart for entirely too long, Dom steals his breath and his balance away, and he’s delighted to find out that, additionally to all the other things Dom is ridiculously skilled at, he’s also a fantastic kisser.

When they break apart with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes, Marius’ head is swimming. “So”, Dom addresses him with a small smirk, “you think I’m super hot, hm?”

It takes him a second to process the remark before he huffs a laugh. “That’s what you took away from my completely uncalled-for rage speech?”

“Just so you know”, Dom mumbles between kisses, “I think you’re gorgeous”, a lick over his upper lip, “and smart”, a short suck on his lower one, “and disgustingly sweet regardless.” They’re both chuckling now, threatening to be too loud once more, and when Dom moans into his mouth, he shushes him not for the first time, making a reckless glint appear in the dark brown eyes. “You know, that’s actually turning me on. A lot.”

“What, that we have to be quiet?” Dom nods and this concession abruptly reminds Marius of the fact that his own arousal has started to pool in his lower half a while ago, a direct response to the making out and just Dom in general. He’s a feast for every single one of Marius’ senses, experiencing him is a dangerous, dizzying affair of which he won’t be able to get enough. “I want you too, but I don’t think I have anything -”

“I do.” He grins, embarrassed, when Marius just looks at him. “Hey, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re really cute. A man can hope.”

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest for Vengeance: “The Labyrinth “: A Short Story

I know I’ve been gone for a long time, everybody. But paying the bills always comes first. Now, I’m a hair’s breadth away from stabilizing, for the most part. As such, I finally managed to get a little bit of writing done. And here it is! I know some of you might have been expecting an article. Sorry yall. I can only do so much.

This week, we follow Marius and Thaclel across The Matriarch’s Planar Portal, as they try to evade the slavers they recently escaped from. 

To catch up on my most recent stories so far, click --> here <--

To catch up from the beginning, click --> here <--

(Maze of Ith: Eternal Masters) (Art by: Yeong-Hao Han)

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

“Sweet Sigharda, what did we get ourselves into, Thaclel?” Marius whispers, eyes wide and pulse pounding. Thick, smooth, black, stone walls surround them on every side, creating long, eerie hallways with the occasional opening at odd angles of to the sides. The Ravnican human looks up to the sky, or rather, the ceiling, holding his hand up against the lights and peering through the gaps. “This is artificial lighting, Thaclel.” He says. The Phyrexian nods. “I count nine distinct light sources from here. We escaped from our slavers on Darahaz and arrived here, to this… Labyrinth.” “We should probably turn back, Thaclel. It’s better to die fighting for our freedom than to starve out here.” Thaclel ponders their situation a moment, tapping one of her giant blade-like claws against her dense needle-like teeth. “The slavers had their interplanar-ambulator set to this place for a reason. There must be more to this place than we can see. On the other hand, without our magic or ability to planeswalk,” she says, tapping the broad thick black metal collar on her neck- a twin to the one Marius wore on his. “we stand little chance against the slavers. We defeated one of them, but only because we took her by surprise.” “And we can’t risk removing them without blowing our head off.” Marius mumbles. Thaclel reaches up with her unnervingly long arms to reach the top of the stone walls. Even if she jumped as hard as she could, she’d be just a shiver too short to make it. “I get the feeling Yawgmoth would appreciate this place as a source of entertainment.” “Let’s just turn around and fight our way through the slavers, Thaclel.” Marius says steeling himself. “Better to die fighting the slavers for our freedom than to starve out here.” His attempt a stoicism collapses as a shadow falls upon him from above. He turns to look and sees arachneaphobia incarnate.

(Terrifying Presence: Avacyn Restored) (Art by Jaime Jones)

“SWEET SIGHARDA! RUN FOR IT, THACLEL!” he shouts, sprinting down the hall away from the gargantuan spider looming over them. “Marius!” Thaclel cries out, running behind him. “We cannot outrun this thing!” “I got it!” Marius says, coming to a sudden stop and drawing his sword. “We can tear off its legs and use them to maneuver to the top of the walls!” “Clever. But first we must defeat it.” “Granted. You have a plan?” The spider appears at the top of the wall and unleashes a hair-raising wail. Marius’ legs tremble and nausea hits him like a hard gust of wind. A quick glance reveals Thaclel was similarly affected. “We need to find an open space to fight it in.” Thaclel says. “Let’s go…uh…this way!” Marius says, bolting down to the left instead of following the hallway straight ahead, toward the spider. Unburdened by walls, the spider cuts them off, glaring at them from above. It reaches at them with one of its many legs- like a deadly tendril hungry to consume. The hairs on the leg grasp tight hold of him and yank him up toward the spider’s waiting fangs. Knowing he won’t be able to break loose in time, Marius drives the point of his sword into the creature’s mouth. It reels back, hissing, but continues pulling Marius up. Hoisted well over the wall now, Marius frantically hacks away at the spider’s leg, hoping to break away. His wish is granted.

(Giant Spider: Amonkhet) (Art by Aaron Miller) The spider explosively extends its leg- sending Marius flying! He loses sight of Thaclel and panics as he tumbles through the air. With an awful slam! Marius hits the top of a wall, his left shoulder plate breaking off from the impact. He rolls off, momentum still too great, and is thrown hard against the wall just over the crest. His head hits the wall and everything goes dark…

Thaclel gazes up in shock at the empty space at the end of the spider’s leg. “What in the name of Mishra… blast it to the fifth sphere of Phyrexia!” There is no way she’ll be able to find him in this place. They’re both on their own! The spider redirects its attention to the Phyrexian beneath it and screeches out another weakening wail. She leans on her Warhammer, straining to resist the spiders magic. As before, the spider drives a leg toward her, like a spear. But Thaclel was ready. She jumps back and swings her hammer as best she can in the enclosed hallway. Her hammer strikes the very tip of the leg and drives it into the wall. Light green ooze trickles out of its shattered leg end and it roars in pain, retreating out of sight. Thaclel’s heart pounds as she awaits the spider’s return, all four of her arms tensed up and ready to swing her hammer. For several anxious seconds, she awaits the inevitable counter-attack. But it doesn’t arrive. Trapped in a labyrinth, not knowing if there is a way out, separated from her only company, unable to use magic, and waiting for the return of the gargantuan spider- her nerves can’t take much more of this. Her min  flashes her memories of Phyrexia Living in the hostile first sphere. Working in the fourth. Situations like these at least felt somewhat familiar. But Marius? Marius! Urza’s bane! She won’t be able to find him in time! She takes off, hoping to find him before the spider does, knowing it’s a hopeless endeavor. She rounds the next corner and finds herself trapped in the spider’s thick cords of adhesive webbing. So much for saving Marius. She can’t even save herself!

(Arachnus Web: Magic 2012) (Art by Karl Kopinski)

Zerriko had seen Dartha hunt down dozens of helpless slaves and would-be glory seekers in The Labyrinth. But never had he seen her throw someone. That was new. Damn spider seemed to have an unending amount of surprises.

Standing upon the upper ledge of the walls, he witnessed the whole thing from just out of range of his crossbow. Not that he would have intervened. No need to rock the boat if it isn’t necessary- or rustle the web, as would be more fitting of the situation. He adjusts his Giant-Gecko-Skin gloves and then heads toward the far side of the Labyrinth, hands clinging to the walls as easily as Dartha’s own legs did.

Marius awakes feeling a wetness oozing down his neck, an awful pain at the back of his head, and uncomfortably bound. Sweet Sigharda…He looks down and sees himself wrapped snugly in the spider’s silk. “Great. Just great.” Trying to keep himself from panicking, he looks around and sees he’s not the first guest the spider and brought into her home. The entire floor is littered in skeletons, the smooth, shiny, dark of the stone of the floors everywhere else is entirely hidden by the dusty layer of bone. Weapons of all kinds, exotic armors, and decaying burlap sacks containing untold treasures surround him. Panic threatens to rush in. So much for trying to stay calm. He squeezes his eyes shut and fights the impending panic.

Moments before it overtakes him, he hears a distantly familiar voice from behind a particularly large pile of bones. “Cozy?”

Who does that voice belong to? He asks himself. “Z-Zerriko? Is that you? Are you trapped here too?” The eccentric Dominarian planeswalker rises from behind the pile of bones and dusts off his trousers. “Trapped? Please. This isn’t my first time in Dartha’s domain. I’m not one of those helpless slaves or would-be glory-hunters The Matriarch sends to this place.” Marius takes a deep breath and tries to repress his many burning questions. “You uh, going to let me out of here?” He asks instead. “Tired of hanging around?” Zerriko slowly allows an amused smile bend his lips.   “Damn it, Zerriko! The spider could come back at any point now! Let me out of here!” Zerriko frowns, his gaze comically stern, “That spider has a name, you know. Dartha. No need to be rude to it.”  Marius rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. When last he met Zerriko, it wasn’t for much longer than a handful of minutes. Just enough for Zerriko to convince Marius that a young woman needed avenging on Theros against a spiteful Heliod. Wow…though he knew it was only a few months ago, it felt like a lifetime. “Could you please release me from Dartha’s web?” With a small bow and a smirk, he says, “Of course I can.” He reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a small aluminum cylinder. Zerriko walks up to Marius and presses a finger against a nozzle at the top of the cylinder. Pressurized gas sprays from the can, emitting a foul-smelling substance.  A slow, wet, sllrrriip, surrounds him as the webbing starts to melt away. Marius plops out of the tangle and lands on his hands and feet…onto even more webbing. Zerriko holds down the nozzle and coats Marius in the dark yellow fluid. “It’ll take a little while for you to get used to the smell, but the webbing will have no effect on you anymore.” “What is that stench?” “Condensed Griffin urine.” Zerriko replies. “My own little invention. I find it’s useful against webbing and sentient tar.” “Sentient tar?” Marius asks, shaking his head vigorously, trying to imagine what that would look like. 

(Creeping Tar-Pit: World Wake) (Art by Jason Felix)

He shivers at the idea and asks, “How many places, other than Zendikar, does one expect to find sentient tar?” “It’s actually more common than you’d hope.” Zerriko says, casually perusing the treasures among the decaying packs littered around on the floor. “You never hear of it because most people who discover it don’t make it back alive to share the story.” “Who the hell are you, Zerriko?” “Someone with a powerful interest in keeping you and the rest of my team alive.” So many questions! But now was not the time to ask them. “Thaclel is out there right now. We need to go find her!“ “I don’t need to do anything. All we do is wait patiently. Dartha will come to us. She always drops off her prey here first.” “You said you weren’t trapped here...so how’d you find me? Do you have this whole place memorized or something?”  “Heavens no.” Zerriko answers. “I have these neat little things.” He shakes his hands at Marius. “Peeled the skin off the fingers of Giant Geckos on the plane of Yanda and fashioned me some gloves. I can use them to climb any surface, literally any surface, with them. All I need is to be strong enough to hoist myself around. Once I reached the top of the walls, I just had to jump from one wall to another. And if I fell down, it was a simple matter to climb back up.” “You have a lot of nifty toys, Zerriko.” Zerriko inspects his gloves intently and appreciates his own work. “Well. Once you’ve died as many times as I have, you’ll get real tired of it.” “What do you mean, died?” Marius runs his hands through his hair and lets out a huge sigh. “Zerriko—who the fu-“ The shadow of Dartha casts down upon them from above and Marius turns to fight. Time for round two. “Dartha!” Zerriko calls out as Marius draws his weapon. “Old friend, how have you been?” Hesitantly, Dartha drops her package and it lands with a heavy metallic clang.

(Skysnare Spider: Magic Origins) (Art by Filip Burburan)

“It speaks?” Marius asks. “No.” Zerriko says, entirely stern. “I just thought it would be funny.” Dartha screeches at the pair and rushes them. Marius hefts his shield and intercepts Dartha as she closes in. The unexpected aggression catches Dartha off guard and the shield slams into her face. Dazed for the briefest of moments, Marius shoves his sword back up through Dartha’s jaws. It hisses a horrible sound and Zerriko closes in, gleaming silver sword in hand.

His expression is calm, his eyes focused. The visage of a man who’s lived through the heat of thousands of battles. Like a praying mantis, Zerriko darts in and out, silver blade piercing Dartha’s joints, then space between its midsection and back side, then the spinneret-- his motions as fluid as a flamingo in dance.  Dartha screeches and attempts to shove Marius away, realizing Marius is serving merely as a distraction. Marius holds his ground against the spider’s powerful lash. Seeing its efforts wasted, Dartha attempts to disengage instead. But with one of its legs injured, Marius is able to keep the pressure on her and pinned down. The spider wails at him, the proximity sending the sickening magic straight into Marius’ bones. He resists the urge to vomit, but only just. In his moment of nausea, Dartha once again lashes out at him, this time successfuly shoving him away. Marius stumbles back and trips over an ancient adventurer's pack. When he looks up he sees Zerriko grasp one of Dartha’s leg joints and hoist himself up and over her. By the time Dartha tries to respond, it’s too late. Zerriko plunges his silver blade into the space between her midsection and her head. With a thick, wet, scchrriiik, Zerriko cuts off Dartha’s head.  The headless body stumbles for a moment, its nervous system spasming. With an eerie calm, Zerriko merely hops off and casually strides away from Dartha’s death throes. “I’ve always wanted to kill her. But I’ve never had a companion half as competent as you help out.” Zerriko reaches out a hand and helps Marius to his feet. “Well I’m glad you were here. Dartha would have killed me and Thaclel without your help.” The Dominarian shrugs. “Just protecting my investments. But you’re welcome, nonetheless.” The idea that he saw them as investments was…unsettling. This man didn’t seem like the kind of guy to have as an enemy... or as a friend for that matter. “How did you escape the first time?” Marius asks and he steps over to gaze at Dartha’s decapitated corpse. “I came in with a rather large group.” Zerriko responds, pulling out his aluminum can of griffin urine. “Together, we managed to hoist me up to the top of one of the walls. I helped guide the group to her den. But each time Dartha attacked, she entirely ignored me and went for the group. By the time we decided to go back, we had lost the majority of our party. I came back again, that time with the Gecko-skin gloves. Then again. Each time nearly having my party wiped. We finally decided that it simply wasn’t worth it to reach Dartha’s lair and come back.” “What brought you here?” Marius asks as Zerriko sprays Thaclel down, melting off the webbing. “An amulet. One that supposedly made seducing people incredibly easy and protected you against it. Never found the blasted thing.”

(Traveler’s Amulet: Theros) (Art by Franz Vohwinkel)

“That is what brought you here?” Marius asks. “Really? You led how many people to their deaths just to get laid?” “Please, no.” Zerriko says, casting a glare at him. “There was a creature on Theros that was damn near impossible to kill. It kept seducing everyone who went in to fight it before they even had the chance to try. Some siren, or gorgon, or nymph. Supposedly. Turns out it was the goddess Belladona having some fun among the mortals.” “Belladona?” Marius asks, “I was on Theros for a while and never heard of her.” “Yeah, well, that’s because she’s not there anymore.” “What… you killed her?” Zerriko finishes spraying Thaclel down and gives her a hefty kick, waking her up from unconsciousness. “No, I didn’t kill her. The Matriarch did something with her. I honestly don’t know, nor care, what she did with her. All I know is that she was pretty much erased from Theros’ history. Just like all the other gods who become forgotten or replaced.”

(Fate Forgotten: Dragons of Tarkit) (Art by Cliff Childs) Thaclel groans and rises. “Why do I smell like urine?” Marius gestures toward Zerriko. “You have this man to thank for that.” The Phyrexian groans and faces Zerriko. “It has been over two months since we last met.” Zerriko shrugs. “I had a lot of people to convince to join our group. Got busy. Lost track of time.” Thaclel grunts her acknowledgement and asks, “So what now? How do we get out of here?” “We can start by getting rid of those collars.” Zerriko answers, frowning at them. “Damn. Looks like she changed them up since the last time I saw them.” He rubs his chin for a moment. “I’m going to go find out how to safely destroy these things without blowing your head off. You two just sit tight for a while.” In a whisp of turquoise mist, Zerriko planeswalks away. For a moment Marius and Thaclel just stand there, contemplating how close they came to death today. The next moment, it was done and accepted they would simply have to wait for Zerriko to return. Marius opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the sound of a powerful whoosh. A dark swirl of purple and black chaos manifests in the air, impossibly thin beyond measurement. “Kill them,” a voice says from beyond the chaos. “And I will grant you your freedom.” Thaclel glances at Marius who is already loading his crossbow. Their struggle for survival in The Labyrinth isn’t over yet…

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[patheticnugbaby]

Hunting Ground I

I decided I wanted to do a multi-chapter Halamshiral fic and boy did I pick a lot of fucking work. I wanted to go more in depth over how my particular inquisitor (Adahla Lavellan) felt at the Winter Palace. Later chapters will probably have Solavellan fluff but this one’s mostly just about Adahla learning the rules of a new hunting ground.

After the introductions Adahla felt exceedingly flustered, her hands were sweating under the thin gray gloves, only softly diffusing the harsh, green glow from her left hand. She had never felt quite so obviously marked by it until now, predatory eyes glancing surreptitiously at her from behind gilt masks. She took great care to hold herself firmly, with a straight spine and her shoulders back, taking slow breaths through her chest.

She was careful in the way that she walked, trying to project the easy grace of a confident woman. Dimly, she heard whispers, ‘Dalish barbarian’ ‘knife-ear’ ‘pretender’, each one slowly mounting in her chest, like the pressure of an ever rising firestorm.

She took a soft breath and hardened that hot rage. As she walked back out to the vestibule she gathered the strength of it around her like armor, out of the corner of her eye she caught the tiniest nod of approval from Josephine. She allowed herself a soft smile, let the expression tug at her lips with the slyness of a fox.

“Inquisitor, a word?” Leliana approached her, gently taking her arm and leading her towards the top of the stairs, “May I say first that you did very well, Inquisitor.”

“Thank you, Sister,” She replied, gently patting Leliana’s hand.

“You are most welcome,” Leliana paused, leaning to take a glass from a passing server, “I should tell you that in the absence of Madame de Fer the empress has seen fit to employ a new court enchanter. We knew each other some time ago, she is ruthless and has seemingly charmed the entire court, as if by magic,”

“I will keep that in mind,” She answered smoothly, trying very hard not to show how much the idea shook her, “could you excuse me, Sister?”

“Of course, my lady Inquisitor,” Leliana let go of her arm, seeming to disappear almost immediately.

“Right,” She whispered to herself and sauntered through the next hall, the Hall of Heroes, she thought they called it.

As she passed she caught the smallest whispers, her ears flicked and she stopped, just out of sight behind a statue.

“-commotion in the upper levels.”

“The one off the garden? Statuette?”

They stopped speaking. She heard the sound of hurried footsteps retreating down the stairs. Adahla sighed and closed her eyes.

“Andruil, blood and force, I pray to you. Ma lasa ghilan, ma las Vir Tanadhal: Vir Assan, Vir Bor’assan, Vir Adahlen. Ma lasa ghilan, ar dar’misu.” She did not say the words aloud, only mouthed them.

She knew the gods no longer heard her but the muttered prayer, one she had whispered before every hunt not so long ago, settled some of the wild, nervous fluttering in her chest. She may be bound and trussed tightly in layers upon layers of shemlen clothing but she was still a hunter. This was not the forest, yet it was not so different from it. Instead of trees, there were gaudy pillars and statues, her prey did not hide in the brush or the grass, but rather behind glittering masks and lacy fans.

She was not a hunter who came back empty handed.

Adahla set off with a greater purpose than she had felt in months. To anyone watching she wouldn’t even look like quite the same woman that came into the palace. She suddenly stalked the ornate halls like she owned them, more akin to a red lion than an out-of-place dalish.

“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted her as she strode into the next room, “you have adjusted well.”

“Thank you, Solas,” She paused, tilting her head, “How do you find Halamshiral?”

“I adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events,” He admitted, leaning on the statue next to him, “the nobles don’t know what to make of me, though the servants are happy enough to refill my glass.”

“Seems you’ve drunk enough already,” She teased, glancing down at his half-full glass, “how many will that make when you finish it?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been counting. Besides,” He gave her a wolfish grin, “I am entirely too sober for this.”

She chuckled, “Will you save me a dance?”

“I can only imagine the scandal of the Inquisitor dancing with an elven servant,”

“Before the night is done I intend to shock them with greater concerns than my choice of dance partners,” She felt a fox’s grin slip onto her face, Solas slightly lifted his glass.

“Good hunting,”

She sauntered further down the hall, she caught snatches of useful conversation. Things she would relay to Leliana at a later date, assuming her illustrious spymaster hadn’t already heard. She turned, nearly running into an agitated Orelesian man.

“Where is Phillipe? Leaving me to deal with Gaspard’s vitriol!”

“That’s awfully rude of him to leave you here with all the work,” She managed to hide their near collision with a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder.

“Exactly! Leaving me to relay Gaspard’s death threats to the Council while he rolls some elven maid!” He huffed, then patted her hand, “My sincerest apologies, Inquisitor, I did not mean to shout.”

“You’re quite alright, Ser,” She smiled gently, “It sounds like you have a busy night, especially being down on help.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor, you are too kind. I really must be going,”

“Of course,” She demurred, allowing him to pass her before she made her way to the balcony.

The greenery was lovely, in a well-groomed Orelesian sort of way. She very much preferred the wilder growths of the forest to well-trimmed lawns and hedges. Abandoned in the lawn, something glinted in the moonlight. She chanced a quick look around, satisfied that she was alone, she hopped over the banister and snatched it up.

Clara — kitchen staff — entered servants' wing by main stair 1:30

Vernon — undergardener — entered servants' wing from hall 2:45

Sophie — chamber maid — entered servants' wing from hall 3:22

Marius — footman — entered servants' wing by main stair 3:45

Briala, we need immediate support down there. Something's gone wrong.

How curious. She tucked it into the pockets of her silver cloak and quickly slid back over the banister, smoothing her dress before re-entering the room. She picked a small cake from a tray, nibbling on it at she pressed through the door to the guest gardens. People milled around, chatting, drinking, eating. At least, if you didn’t look any closer that’s what they were doing.

A few clandestine letters exchanged hands, rumors were placed and exchanged, sabotages planned, deaths requested. These people weren’t the prey she was seeking, though the interesting pieces of gossip she heard were hoarded and saved for later. She tried not to flick her ears too much, as much as she wanted to hear everything. After a little searching, she found a door up to the next level.

She hurried up, upon arriving finding it deserted save a few smears of blood on the marble. She kneeled, careful not to get any stains on the silvered embroidery on the hem of her dress. At the end of a long hour of arguments, Leliana and Vivienne had decided on black, white, and silver, not unlike the clothes she wore to greet ‘important’ guests at Skyhold.

She shook her head, removing one of her gloves to touch the blood with her fingertips, wet, but cold. Recent. Adahla licked it from her fingertips. Elven.

Something akin to a thrill ran up her spine and she smiled a hunter’s smile. She stood, gathering her skirts to lift them above her ankles as she stepped over the smeared blood. It led to the library but she wanted to check outside first.

She did not want to walk out of the library only to be ambushed by another hunter. Along the opposite side, laying on the banister were two things, a tiny halla statuette, and a love letter.

She pocketed both and stood there for a time, listening.

The soft din of the people on the lower levels, the steady hum of the Anchor she rarely noticed anymore. Glasses clinked and people laughed. The silver sound of a coin being flipped through the air.

Unsuspecting jackals below her. Scavengers more than predators, scrabbling with each other for scraps of power and reputation. They were not hunters the way she was.

She retreated back the way she came, spying a door. Other halla statues were placed in little alcoves around the doorframe. One such alcove was empty. Adahla smiled and pressed the little statue she had into the empty space.

Silver-blue circles of light sprang from the door. Her ears flicked at she detected the sound of stone grinding on stone as the door swung open.

A tiny room, cluttered with books and papers and chests, lit by one solitary veilfire candle. She shut the door behind her, flipping through the papers on the desk, her eyes reflecting the pale blue-green light.

She found nothing on the desk and started going through the papers that seemed to have been thrown to the floor. Someone didn’t like these letters. She grinned when she found the one she was looking for.

Celene,

We can discuss this like adults, can't we? We both know the weapon at Briala's disposal could not only turn the tide of our war but every war. The empire must control it; I do not believe you disagree. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anything else. If you and I work together, we can wrest control away from her. Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy. You know her better than anyone—you know that's impossible.

Gaspard

“A weapon to turn the tide of every war?” She mused, pocketing the letter, “You might just be after my own heart, Briala.”

She stood and pressed her ear to the door. She heard nothing and pulled it open.

The upper balcony was deserted, as it had been when she left it. She stalked to the large double doors leading to the library, being sure that the heels of her shoes didn’t click on the marble. The doors swung open silently and she swept inside. Adahla was suddenly assaulted with the scent of parchment, ink, and old leather with the gentle mustiness of dust.

She ran her hands along the books on the shelves, gently pressing her fingers between them to see if she could find any hidden letters or documents. She pressed one particular book, its title faded beyond recognition and heard a soft click. Her ears perked up, then flicked backward at the sound of doors opening. Pride swelled in her chest as she slid into the secret room. A veilfire torch lit the room, illuminating the one letter left out on the desk.

Lady M,

I need you at my side tonight. The unpleasantness in the royal wing has convinced me there is no safety within the palace. I do not expect my cousin to employ magic, but I would hardly be surprised if he provoked another infestation; since my court enchanter is not here to assist me, I must rely entirely upon you. There is no one else I can trust.

Celene

“Lady M’s on good terms with her majesty,” She said aloud, ears pricking at the sudden whoosh of wind.

“She is confident and sure. She knows more than Vivienne ever did.”

“Good evening, Cole,” She smiled, turning to look at him, the veilfire lit his pale face eerily like he was a ghost.

“This place has no good evenings. Just blood.”

“Co-” Her ears flicked when she heard the tolling of a bell, “Fenedhis!”

“They will like you better if you wait until the second bell. Making an entrance, clad in black and white and silver. Starry nights on snow-covered mountains.”

She smiled and gently clasped his hands, “Try not to get overwhelmed here, Cole. I do not know if you can help them.”

“I tried but they kept getting angry with me. They’ve forgotten now.”

Adahla gave his hands a reassuring squeeze before she breezed past him. Her heels clicked unabashedly on the marble as she closed the doors behind her and slunk down the stairs. As she passed through the gardens no one seemed to note her long absence. She smiled to herself as she swept back into the palace, greeted by the warmth of a fire and the scent of alcohol and sweets.

She detected a few whispers, ‘A dalish?’ ‘One of those barefoot vagabonds?’, Adahla let herself shrug them off. She was Dalish and she was proud. She was proud of the pale vallaslin over her left eye, her ears that flicked and turned to hear better, her eyes that saw more in the dark than any shem’s would. She sauntered back through the vestibule, her head stretched to open the door when she heard the soft sound of human shoes trying to be quiet on the marble.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Adahla turned to face the voice, coming down the stairs, “The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled herald of the faith.” A pale woman, dark hair piled on her head wearing an extravagant red gown, “Delivered from the grasp of the fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” The woman said it like it was a joke, yellow eyes glinting at her, “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do you even know?”

Adahla settled back on her feet, giving the woman a coy smile, “We may never know, My Lady. Courtly intrigues and all that.”

“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all,” The woman paused and briefly bowed her head, “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”

Morrigan walked by her, not waiting for Adahla to follow but seeming to expect her to. She did, after a moment, as though she wasn’t sure about her just yet.

“You... Have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace,”

“I am a hunter, Lady Morrigan. This is not the forest but it is a forest,” She replied, smiling at the other woman’s chuckle.

“So it is. Perhaps the two of us hunt the same prey, Inquisitor?”

“I hope so, M’lady,” Adahla bowed her head a little, “I would be honored to share my hunt with you.”

“Vir Adahlen, Inquisitor,”

She carefully schooled her face to not show any surprise, “Together we are stronger than the one,”

“Indeed,” Morrigan began walking again, seeming to lead her around the stairwell, “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these halls. An agent of Tevinter.” She stopped and turned to Adahla, pulling something from her sleeve, “So I offer you this, Inquisitor: A key, found on the Tevinter’s body. Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”

“I may find the time to try a door or two,” She smiled and bowed her head, “Ma serannas,”

Morrigan chuckled, taking her arm and leading her back towards the door the ballroom, the second bell sounded, “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them allied with Tevinter,” She paused her hand on the door and gave Adahla a sidelong glance, “What happens next, will be most exciting.”