#Ven wasn't nice in his academy days

[mercurypilgrim]

‘ aw, did i hurt your wittle feelings? ’ Prompt please! ^^

Ven’fir was used to poor odds.

He was used to being on the defensive, hissing and spitting at whoever had decided to take a potshot at him this time.

He bit down the urge to curse as he moved a little too slow and the training blade caught his arm, the burning plasma scorching his skin.

With a grunt of effort, he groped for the Force and tugged, and the air shivered before one of his assailants was knocked off her feet, crashing to the floor of the training room with a grunt that sounded painful.

Sensing something coming at him from the side, he ducked low just in time to feel the buzz of another training blade pass over his head and, in a move that gained him a surprised cry from the man wielding the blade, tackled him.

Ven’fir had never been short or particularly twiggy, and he used his weight and size to his advantage as he sent them both crashing to the mats.

Force, he didn’t even have his blade.

It was lying off to the side, knocked from his hand in the first moment of the ambush, which was what this had been.

Some stuck-up prick had sent these acolytes at him, and he honestly had no idea why or even who.

He had made a lot of enemies and not many friends, and there were some out there who would see him dead or disgraced just because they didn’t like that fact that he was green.

Well, he thought grimly as he rolled with a punch to his face that made him see stars, that was fine.

He’d show them.

The next punch was coming his way and he rolled them over, using the confusion of his opponent to hand a solid headbutt that connected with a satisfying crunch. Scrambling out from the groaning acolyte who was trying to stem the slow of blood from his ruined nose, Ven’fir felt a pair of arms grab him from behind.

A stab of panic bloomed in his gut as he struggled, seeing the woman he had knocked off her feet earlier advancing on him with a sneer and her blade in her hands.

Summoning the Force, he opened his mouth to shout.

A hand closed over his face, and he thrashed, the Force dissipating under his shaky control.

With a snarl, he bit down hard.

A grunt from behind him was worth the taste of blood that filled his mouth, his sharp canine teeth puncturing deep into the soft flesh of a finger. He bit down again and felt something crunch. He heard an ear-piercing shriek and the arm holding him let go.

He wriggled out of the hold in time to throw himself to the side to avoid a scything blade, spitting blood out of his mouth as he came up in a crouch.

He was tired.

His eye was beginning to swell, and he was sure a finger was dislocated, and his breath hurt every time he breathed.

One opponent left, and she was a mean one.

She was a bruiser of a thing; all crimson tattoos and better-than-you sneer.

Her hair, once done up in an elaborate coif, was snarled ad tangled around her shoulders.

Ven’fir stretched out a hand in the direction of his blade, calling on the Force.

Her eyes widened and she surged forwards to stop him summoning his blade.

He opened his mouth and roared.

The wall of Force enhanced sound blew her off her feet and slammed her into the wall, where she stumbled and gave a grunt of pain, a spray of blood from her lips making him think he’d cracked a rib.

Ven’fir felt one knee buckle and staggered even as his blade came to his hand.

Fuck.

The woman stood again, looking very much worse for wear.

He was about to reach out for the Force again when the door opened and, in an almost comedic moment, everyone stopped.

The person in the doorway didn’t stay still for long.

The woman turned on him and raised her blade with intent to hurt when the newcomer darted forwards and, with brutal force, sank a fist into her sternum.

She crumpled, her blade falling to the floor.

How anticlimactic.

Ven’fir looked at the newcomer.

An acolyte like him, going by the hideous robes.

He was Mirialan, his white hair contrasting starkly with his green skin.

Hmm, pretty.

His eyes were wide and surprised, as though neatly dispatching a murderous acolyte hadn’t been on the agenda when he had walked in.

It probably hadn’t.

Ven’fir recognised him. Sommin, he thought his name was. A twitchy thing, but he had lasted a lot longer than most.

It was hard not to be aware of him, when the number of alien acolytes that lasted longer than a week was in the single digits.

He regarded the other acolyte warily, controlling his breathing.

“I suppose you want a thank you.” He ventured, keeping his senses keyed up in case one of the groaning acolytes decided to come at him again, or Sommin wasn’t there to help at all.

The other Sith looked baffled and uncomfortable. He kept staring at where Ven’fir’s mouth was smeared with blood.

“Uh, not necessary.” he murmured. “I… why were they attacking you?”

Ven’fir spat out another gobbet of blood, grimacing. Fury burned in his veins, his blood calling out for vengeance.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Crossing to the only acolyte conscious, the one he had headbutted having slipped into sweet release after the blow to the head Ven’fir had given him, he stood over the young man clutching his hand.

“You- you bit my fucking finger off!” the man howled, eyes bulging. Behind him, Sommin drew in an audible breath.

Ven’fir smiled, showing bloody teeth.

“Don’t be a baby,” he murmured, looming over him. “It’s hardly severed. You’ll still hold a lightsaber with that hand though.” He said sweetly, and the acolyte drew in a shuddering breath.

Ven’fir, as quick as he could, reached out and grabbed his wrist.

The acolyte started, but he held tight and placed a booted foot in the centre of his chest, forcing him back against the floor. He bent at the waist, keeping the arm taut.

“Now,” he said with a grin. “Tell me who sent you after me, or I take more fingers.”

The acolyte, face horrified, shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He assured, and Ven’fir tutted.

Behind him, Sommin made an aborted motion towards him.

“You’re not really going to-“ he started, cutting himself off. “Y-you can’t.”

Ven’fir ignored him and gripped the next finger.

Absently he noted that the ruined finger was well and truly mangled, his sharp teeth and strong bite having torn through flesh and crushed fragile bone.

And Imperials said aliens were physically inferior.

With a yank, there was a sickening crack and the acolyte wailed, the finger standing at an unnatural angle.

Sommin rushed forwards and grabbed Ven’fir’s shoulder.

He jumped, half turning and baring sharp teeth on instinct.

“Don’t touch me.” He spat, keyed up. Aware of the startled look on the other Mirialan’s face, he forced himself calmer. “Don’t sneak up on someone just out of combat, seriously.”

Sommin met his stare with huge orange eyes, his presence so tightly wound it was like brushing his mind over steel wool. It was a turmoil of feeling and emotion, but it was warm. There was a core of something light there that Ven’fir relaxed into before something sharp jabbed him in the senses and he withdrew before this strange acoloyte’s Force presence stung him again.

“Leave him alone.” Sommin warned, tone tense but firm.

Ven’fir blinked.

“He tried to kill me.” He said slowly, baffled. “I need to know on whose orders.”

Sommin looked supremely uncomfortable, but he wasn’t backing down.

“That’s torture.” He murmured, and Ven’fir didn’t get it.

“Yes?”

For a moment, the white haired Sith looked like he was floundering before he seemed to draw on some reserve of patience Ven’fir had to admit that he was impressed with.

“You’re just as bad as them, if you do this.” He said softly, and Ven’fir tilted his head.

“Yeah, probably.” He paused. “Aw, did I hurt your wittle feelings?” he mocked, annoyance sparking in his belly.

Sommin seemed to take a deep breath, and he squared his shoulders, refusing to give the reaction Ven’fir wanted.

“I won’t stop you if you continue but… you’ll only get yourself caught.” He said quietly, “And you owe me.”

Ven’fir paused.

“I didn’t need your help.” He bit out, displeased at having his actions dictated.

Sommin looked wary, but he wasn’t baking down.

That was impressive, considering Ven’fir was fairly sure he looked all kinds of awful right now.

“But you still got it.” The white-haired acolyte argued, seemingly trying not to fidget. He came off as uncomfortable simply existing in his own skin, but he shone bright in the Force and Ven’fir was impressed with his tenacity if not what he was applying it to. “You owe me.”

Ven’fir scoffed.

“And you want to waste your favour from me on this guy?” he asked incredulous.

Sommin averted his eyes but didn’t back down.

“I saved your life, and you’re not going to kill him, or you’ll be expelled.” He said quietly. “I’d say that’s only a half a favour cashed in.”

The sheer nerve of that made Ven’fir laugh so hard he had to drop the mangled hand he was holding.

He straightened and gave a startled Sommin a smile.

From how the other Mirialan looked alarmed, it wasn’t a nice one.

“You know what? Fine. You’re something else, Sommin Atlas.”

Sommin’s brow creased in concern, orange eyes widening.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, body tense.

Vne’fir shrugged, his fury dissipating in the face of amusement.

“You’re green, darling. As if I could miss you.” He teased. He cast his attention to the beaten acolyte at their feet. He crouched down and grabbed the man’s chin, forcing him to look up. He ignored the way Sommin tensed behind him.

“You owe him,” Ven’fir murmured to the terrified student. “Because I would have ruined every finger on that hand before starting on your other one. Thanks to him, you might hold a lightsaber again one day.”

Letting him go, he straightened and stepped away. His whole body ached, and his ribs were on fire, but he reached up to wrench his own finger back into place with a nasty pop. He grimaced at the stab of pain. That hurt.

He would figure out who was trying to kill him another day.

He turned to Sommin, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Ven’fir smirked, fascinated by this odd acolyte.

“Since I owe you,” he began, “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of more of me.”

Laughing at Sommin’s less than enthusiastic expression, he leaned over and pressed a bloody kiss to his cheek, feeling the other tense and almost bolt under his touch.

Backing off and leaving a smear of crimson on one tattooed cheek, Ven’fir grinned and wiped blood from the corner of his own mouth.

“Thanks for the save, darling. Lead the way.”

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 26

We’ll Go Together

Summary: In which certain students secure their dates for the formal. Word Count: 1,539 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

For the past five or so minutes, Ventus kept nervously looking from his lunch to Ephemer and Skuld. He was happy that they let him sit with them; it was better than sitting alone and letting Vanitas berate him. But all the talk about the formal was making the boy think. Ven closed his eyes as he asked the other two, in one very quick sentence; “Who are you guys taking to the formal?”

The reaction was an equal, “Huh?” and a curious glance directed toward him. Ven shrunk a bit in his spot. Just as he was about to tell them to forget it, Skuld spoke up;

“Are you not listening?” she prudently questioned. “We were just talking about that.”

“Oh come on Skuld,” Ephemer teased, despite being rather unnerved at his friend, “We all know Ven tends to space out every now and again.”

“Y-yeah Skuld,” the youngest boy tried to joke. “Take it easy on me.”

He immediately shrunk again at the dark glare she gave him.

“Ephemer and I usually go together.” she finally decided to tell Ventus. “But this year...”

“This year I was thinking about taking someone else.” Ephemer cut in with a grin. “So we were talking about who else she could go with.”

“Oh...” came the younger boy's small answer. “You must know a lot of people then, huh? I don't think I know anyone outside of you two...”

That was when something glimmered in Ephemer's eye, and he immediately turned to Skuld. Without him saying a word, she already knew what her friend was getting at.

“You're joking.” she retorted. Ven looked from the two of them in confusion.

“Joking about what?” he innocently questioned. At first, neither of them answered him, instead staring each other down until Skuld gave in.

With a defeated sigh, she said to him, “You can go to the formal with me.”

For a moment, Ventus couldn't react. When the words finally came, he sounded like he was being strangled by a cat; “A-are you serious? C-can I?”

Skuld gave a shrug of indifference.

“But we're six years apart!” Ven then tried to argue. He knew it was a weak argument the moment he said it.

“That doesn't matter.” Ephemer told him with a shake of his head. “We're all in the same house, attending the same school. No one would even bat an eyelash. Who knows, someone might even think you're related!”

Ventus and Skuld looked at each other then immediately gave a look of disagreement. If anyone managed to think they looked like siblings, they obviously needed a pair of glasses.

“So,” Ven then curiously implored, “If you weren't going to take Skuld like you usually do, who were you going to take?”

A wide grin made its way onto Ephemer's face as he gave his answer.

. . .

“Are you going to ask them?”

Her brother had been so blunt that Strelitzia almost choked on her food. If Elrena had decided to have lunch with them, there was no doubt she would have made a snarky remark to it. Lauriam waited patiently as his sister tried to recompose herself.

“W-who?” she weakly questioned, trying to play dumb. Lauriam's knowing side eye made her shrink a bit in her seat. Sighing, Strelitzia admitted in a small voice, “I'm afraid to.”

“Why?”

“She's a girl too, it'll be weird.”

“So?”

Strelitzia looked up at her brother in confusion. Surely he would have known how weird it would have been for two girls to arrive at the formal together. People would talk- and not particularly nicely either. Then there was that boy Anora was with on White Day…

“I don't know if she feels the same way.” Strelitzia finally admitted. “And… I want to ask her, I do. But I just… I just can't. Not right now. I don't want to go to the formal alone though...”

“I'll take you.”

Strelitzia's eyes widened. “Really?”

Lauriam gave a small nod of his head. He took a slow sip from his cup before adding, “But if you don't ask them to the formal, at least talk to them during. Promise?”

At this, Strelitzia bit her lip in thought. Something about having her brother to fall back to did help the idea of talking to Anora face to face. Maybe it was the rule of a third wheel, or having a wingman, or something.

“I promise.” she agreed with a nod and a wide smile.

. . .

The five friends stared at Brain as if he had gained another head. Likewise, the boy stood near them, with a grin befitting the cat that ate the canary. It shouldn't have been that much of a shock- Pyra and Brain were in the same house, after all. But it was something about the way he composed himself, the way he had asked so nonchalantly, as if he were doing her a favor.

“So Pyra, what do you say? Wanna go to the formal with me?” he asked once more. If she would just say no, he'd take the hint and walk away. He'd even respect it if she said that someone else was going to take her. But Pyra did none of those things; her utter surprise leaving her speechless.

“I...” the girl struggled to say. “I would li-like that.”

The smile Brain gave her was genuine- almost relieved. “Great!” he declared. “Can I pick you up at your dorm; maybe a little after 7?”

“Sure.” Pyra squeaked.

Brain gave a small chuckle at her reaction. He gave her a departing wink before going on his merry way. Pyra's face was so red from embarrassment that it could have stopped traffic.

“You gonna be alright there Pyra?” Affie asked her, taking a rather large bite out of his sandwich. “I don't think I've seen anyone look that red before.”

Nin snorted. “I don't blame her- he's got all the signs of being a lady killer. Dark, handsome- I think he's still one growth spurt away from being tall, though. Hate to see that kid all dressed up.”

“But you're not even going.” Affie reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

“I am.” she told them all with a grimace. “Mog convinced me to go with him.”

“It wasn't even easy either.” the youngest of them added. “It felt like she made me sell my soul for a corn chip.”

“Serves you right.” Nin snickered.

“I'm glad Katia is so open to formals then.” Affie said, more to himself than his friends.

“Who's Katia?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Since when?!”

“Since after last year's dance. She asked me, so this year I asked her. We're only going for a bit though- dinner at an actual restaurant is a lot better than whatever they have catered at the formal.”

“Who's taking you to the formal, Anora?” Pyra suddenly asked, her voice too high and squeaky to not hide that she was only trying to divert everyone's attention. Suddenly hearing her name in this line of conversation made Anora jump in surprise. Quickly, Anora shook her head to illustrate that no one had asked her yet.

“Ah man!” Mog whined. “I wish I had known that before asking Nin! I would have asked you instead!”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Nin quickly snapped at him.

“N-nothing!” the boy quickly stammered. “I just… you know, if it would kill you to have a little fun...”

“So you think I'm no fun?”

“What?! No, no, no! That's not what I'm trying to say!”

It was Pyra who started to laugh first. Everyone looked at her in confusion, for only a moment, before they all started to dissolve into a burst of giggles. The question on who was going to take Anora to the formal was now forgotten. For now, at least.

. . .

“Hey Anora!”

Anora immediately stopped in her tracks, turning to see Ephemer coming toward her. He was sprinting,  as if he had only happened to see her out of the corner of his eye, and immediately made a decision to catch up with her. When he was close enough, the boy let out a sigh to catch his breath before quickly asking;

“Has anyone asked you to the formal yet?”

Something in Anora froze. He wasn't…!

“Do you want to do together?”

He was.

Anora looked at Ephemer with growing eyes. As scared and surprised as she was, something in her was… excited. That excitement almost scared her even more.

“As… friends?”

Ephemer tilted his head at her for a moment before nodding. “As friends.” he agreed. Anora's body visibly relaxed at this. But there was still a weird sense of disappointment lingering in her mind. But why?

“I think we're going to go with Skuld and Ventus.” Ephemer then told her. “It'll be easier than going separately then trying to find each other at the formal. But we'll talk more about it later, okay?”

Anora gave him a nod of agreement. The term 'double date' floated around in her head for a moment before she shook it away. This wasn't a date, it was a night out with friends- there was no reason to complicate it further than that.

Right?