#WOE. OC WRITING BE UPON YE

[bananasofthorns]

If she had any pictures of Midas, Aster’s mom never showed them to him, but it doesn’t matter. All Aster has ever had to do to see his dad is look in a mirror. Right now, he’s looking at himself twenty years into the future. It feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, but everything else is numb.

A decade ago, Hallow left Pixandria and took up the name of the father he'd never met. Five years ago, he successfully robbed the Church of the Blood Sheep and fled Mythland, leaving the name Midas behind. Today, Aster sneaks back into Mythland and comes face-to-face with the past he's never met.

Or: that awkward moment when you sneak back into the country that wants you jailed only to run into your absent father whose identity you borrowed before committing grand larceny.

[coffeeghoulie]

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 2: come together, come apart

Life outside of the City, with some new faces and some familiar ones. Cut to black. Contains unnamed character death, recreational drug use, dissociation and time loss. Thinking with portals. 9.7k.

Much thanks again to @mintea-in-space for giving this a look over <3

divider by @wrathofrats <3

Aurum runs until he's not sure what Circle he's in. He's never been this far from the City. The immense relief he feels from the distance is offset by the guilt and the panic.

The paved stones give way to basalt and brimstone. He leaves the Ninth. Keeps running.

When Aurum looks back on this, decades from now, when he’s no longer Aurum and his scruff is a little more salt than pepper, he knows, logically, he had to have had some help to survive. A kit from the City doesn’t make it out in the Wastes without a little help. But much to his combined horror and relief, he doesn’t remember any of the first couple decades on his own.

No memory of anyone taking pity on a dissociated fire kit. No memory of learning how to hunt, how to really fight. He doesn’t have to depend on his element out here if he knows how to throw his weight around.

When he does look back on this part of his life, all he really remembers is leaving the City, and then several decades just sort of passing. It’s disconcerting when he comes back to himself, staring at his reflection in an outcropping of black volcanic glass and not recognizing the man staring back. He doesn’t know when he changed how he wore his hair, wearing it in locs rather than braids, tied back practically.

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember a lot of things. The last thing he knew in complete clarity was that he was just a kit leaving his home. Now, Aurum is a full grown ghoul.

He’s not even Aurum anymore. He doesn’t know who he is now, quite yet, but he clings to that name in a last ditch attempt to hang onto who he last remembered he was.

Part of him is surprised that no one came to find him. Another part is put at ease that he wasn’t dragged back. He tries not to dwell on any of it. Aurum keeps moving. He hunts. He hides from the roaming packs that dot these parts of the Wastes. He sleeps under outcroppings, fitfully but thankfully dreamlessly.

His body is used to being constantly on edge. He vaguely remembers, in the early days, when he was still just running, worrying about how he was going to survive, a kit from the City stumbling into the outer Circles.

He remembers hunger. Pain. Cold and heat and elements. But he also remembers finding clear water. Rock outcroppings and shelter. Food. He never lingered in one spot for long, turning tail at the first sign of other ghouls.

Aurum knows he could hold his own, but the energy expended isn’t worth it. So instead, he goes alone. Doesn’t claim any territory, keeps moving. Sees more of his world than he ever could in the City. Wanders through the salt marshes and spring rivers in the Fifth. Fights through the stormplains of the Second. Watches over the City and the sprawling towns and villages from the cliffs surrounding the outer edge of the Eighth. There’s a pang in his chest, so close to a place he never wants to step foot in again. He turns his back and treks back out into the Wastes. It’s easier the second time, making the choice to walk away.

He walks and wanders and takes in his world. There’s something missing, something deep and intrinsic that he can’t put his finger on, let alone name.

But he is happier out here than he ever was before. Undeniably so.

One of Aurum’s favorite places to move through are the forests of the Seventh, the trees gnarled and leafless, reaching up to the smoky sky like twisted fingers. It’s quieter here than most other places. Food a little more plentiful, ground a little softer underfoot.

Easier to hear where other ghouls are, even if it gives them a little more visual cover. The snap of a branch is loud and obvious, and out here, as long as he’s not actually intruding on another ghoul’s or pack’s territory, they will acknowledge his presence and they’ll all move along with their lives. No use expending energy on a brawl over a misunderstanding.

Aurum moves with purpose, looking for an outcropping or a fallen tree to use for shelter for the night. The smoke hanging ever present in the sky reflects orange and red, fires and magma from miles away casting the entire world in a bloody light.

He’s tired. Had been chased out of a hunt by a Roaming Pack that had claimed his quarry. His stomach growls and his muscles ache and as the sky gets darker, all Aurum can think about is finding somewhere enclosed and just passing out.

His single minded mission means he doesn’t hear the footsteps slowly getting closer.

Aurum keeps pushing. One foot after another. He hops down into a gully of a long dried streambed, starts walking in hopes of finding the old source. His throat hurts.

He’s lost in his mind when the world goes worryingly quiet. Aurum’s hackles raise, and he stops slowly. Holds still. He’s not alone. He can feel that much.

A rumbling. Sounds like a rockslide, or a far off earthquake. Aurum’s eyes dart around, does his best to steady his breathing, keep his scent calm. He can barely see anything in the darkness of the woods. He keeps looking.

Another rumbling. A little closer this time. His ears flick. His chest heaves. He can’t smell any other ghouls nearby. Only smoke and dirt and plant life.

A third. Even louder. Aurum’s heart falls through his stomach.

The rumblings freeze him in place, feet suddenly weighing a thousand pounds even though he knows he needs to run.

"Trespasser," a deep voice growls, and Aurum’s eyes go wide as his feet sink into solid rock. It closes around his ankles, and he panics, pulling hard even as the rock doesn’t relent.

Aurum knows he’s fucked. He’s stumbled into an earth ghoul’s territory. His breathing comes quick, chest heaving. He scrabbles at the rock he’s trapped in until his claws ache, but to no avail.

It’s dark, the grove towering around him feeling like it’s caving in. A cage for another ghoul to toy at their prey.

Aurum struggles to bring fire to his hands. He curses under his breath when it doesn’t work. “Shit, fucking- Lucifer damn-”

He panics, a trapped animal. He’s going to die here for the stupidest mistake he’s ever made. And there’s been no shortage of those in his life.

A pair of yellow-green eyes shine in the darkness. Aurum freezes.

They get closer. The growling gets louder.

Aurum swallows hard. He knows how to fight. But against a territorial earth ghoul while he’s trapped like this?

“Shitshitshitshit-” he panics, trying again to pull his feet free. Another pair of eyes blinks out of the darkness. Aurum’s stomach drops to his feet.

He stops struggling. Watches them stalk closer. His heart pounds, trying to break out of his chest. There’s no point. He’s so fucked.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out as the earth ghouls emerge from the shadows. One is tall, reedy and thin, dark hair hanging in moss-like strands, each horn curving back over their head in a spiral. The other is a little shorter, broader in the shoulders, horns broken where they jut back from the ghoul’s temples. Both snarl, tusks glinting wetly in the low light.

“Trespasser,” the taller ghoul snaps. Aurum throws his hands up, eyes wide and every muscle in his body locking up. They start to circle. “We should make you beg.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just moving through, I will turn tail and never come back,” he tries to plead. The other ghoul laughs. It sends a jolt of pure fear down his spine. He pulls at his feet again. They still don’t budge.

“That’s cute,” the second ghoul laughs. “Thinking we’ll just let you go.”

Aurum sighs shakily, shoulders dropping. “I know. Please.”

They don’t say anything, continuing to circle like vultures. Practically licking their lips as they close in. “You think that’s gonna save you?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Aurum shrugs. “I’d rather not die for having gone the wrong way.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” the first ghoul says snidely. They rake their dark hair out of their face with sharp claws, grinning almost manically. Aurum realizes, to his own horror, that his hands are shaking.

The other ghouls see it too.

“Please!” Aurum yells. He doesn’t know what else to do.

The first ghoul lunges. Aurum throws his hands up over his face, begging for his magic to fucking work for once.

All that comes is a spray of harmless sparks. Embers floating up into the dark sky in a shower of orange. And is that purple? The fear’s making him see things. He’s imagining it. The same way he imagines his feet shifting slightly in the rock.

“Esker! Moraine!” A third voice yells. Aurum tries to whip around to face where it’s coming from, but his feet are held fast in the ground once again. “I want to talk to him.”

The ghoul in front of him backs off, still grinning, but it’s softer. If Aurum knew any better, he’d say it looked kind. “Oh, of course, little bird,” they say. They gesture, looking over Aurum’s shoulder. Past him. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

Aurum’s chest heaves. He can feel his pulse racing in his throat. His temple. He still can’t see who spoke behind him. Feet still bound within the earth itself.

But then a third figure arcs around into his field of vision, jumping into the gully. It’s a ghoulette unlike any he’s ever remembered meeting. He realizes he can’t quite tell her element, and his head hurts as he stares.

She’s slighter than the earth ghouls she’s running with, footsteps completely silent like the ground doesn’t even recognize her presence. Dark violet hair floats behind her, carries on an imaginary breeze, and she cocks her head as she scrutinizes him with silver, iris and pupilless eyes.

“You’re a multi,” she breathes, gills fluttering along the sides of her throat. She’s a full head shorter than him, but Aurum still feels small under her gaze. She grins, seeming genuinely delighted as she bares sharp, serrated teeth. “Another multi, could you believe it?”

Aurum blinks, brows furrowing as he takes her in in turn. “I’m sorry, what?”

It’s the ghoulette’s turn to look confused. “Another multighoul?”

He smiles, tries to be placating. Hasn’t had to do a lot of that in a while, he’s not sure how effective it is anymore. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m just a fire ghoul.”

She just laughs. “Esk, let him go,” she calls. The taller earth ghoul nods, and then the earth under Aurum’s feet almost seems to melt. Aurum’s breath hitches, and he attempts to pull himself free. His toe catches on the rock, and he stumbles.

The ghoulette catches him by the arm, and he just tries to parse her expression. “Thank you,” he says, low and genuine. His pulse still races, and he fights to even out his breathing.

“Don’t mention it,” she says, hauling Aurum up until he’s steady on his feet, webbed fingers wrapped as far around his bicep as they can reach.

She glances to the other earth ghouls, eyes going wide as she realizes something, a bright peal of laughter escaping her lips. “We should probably introduce ourselves, huh? My name is Fog, and these are my packmates, Esker,” she gestures to the taller of the ghouls, “and Moraine,” she gestures to the other. Each of the ghouls nods at Aurum as Fog introduces them. "What's yours?"

Aurum takes a deep, shaky breath through his nose. “Don’t really have one,” he says. Just the thought of a stranger calling him Aurum makes him feel nauseous. Or that may still be the close call making him sick. But he obliges his body anyways and doesn’t tell her.

Fog raises a dark eyebrow. Her smile doesn’t falter. “Would you like us to give you one?”

He flinches a little bit, pulling back. Fog’s hand is still on his arm. Her touch is cool, even through his shirt. “I- I dunno, I was going to head on my way, it doesn’t really matter.”

She just cocks her head. “And here I was going to offer that you stay with us.”

Esker and Moraine share a look. “Another mouth to feed, Foggy?” Esker asks, arms crossed over their chest.

“Sure, it’d be another mouth, but it would also be two more hands.” She shrugs, and Aurum whips his head back and forth between them as they talk. “Wouldn’t it be helpful to have another ghoul around? Especially another one with quintessence? Mine isn’t that strong, you know that.”

Quintessence? “I don’t-” Aurum tries to cut in, but no one seems to listen.

“He seems like he could pull his weight,” Moraine cuts in, voice low and harsh like a rockslide. His gaze is sharp, and Aurum feels like he’s pinned in place by it.

“Do I get a say in this?” Aurum asks. His tail lashes nervously behind him, eyes not staying on each ghoul too long before flicking to another.

The small pack shares a silent conversation, and Aurum feels all of his muscles tense, fingers twitching as he tries to decide if he should start to run. Fog turns back to him.

“I mean, you can turn tail and go, if you’d like,” she says. Her chest heaves with a sigh. “But I know being alone out here was awful. Being with a group is better. Don’t have to watch your back when you sleep. Up to you, of course.”

Aurum considers for a moment. His stomach lurches before it growls loudly. “I’ll stay. Do my best to pull my weight.”

Fog beams with bright teeth and eyes. She glances over to Esker and Moraine, each smiling in turn. “Welcome,” she chirps, resting her hand on his bicep again.

“Thank you,” he says, the adrenaline starting to come down hard. His body aches. He still wants to go find somewhere to lay down.

Fog turns him, nodding at the earth ghouls as she starts to lead him towards them. Despite the relief flooding him, there’s still the little voice in the back of his head screaming at him that he’s walking into his own downfall.

He decides to ignore it.

Esker and Moraine walk in near sync, leading the small group back into the forest, and Aurum follows. Fog walks next to him. She doesn’t take her eyes off of him. Aurum figures that she’s waiting for him to lunge at her packmates’ backs. Doesn’t blame her.

He just keeps walking.

Fog cocks her head, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you feel about a name, Multi?”

Aurum’s hackles raise. “I’m sorry, what’d you call me?”

“Multi,” she shrugs. “Multighoul. Multiple elements.”

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. A few locs have fallen out of the ponytail he’d shoved them into that morning, and he pushes them out of his face. “I’m just fire, Fog. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just fire, huh?” she says, like they’re sharing a joke. Aurum isn’t in on it. “Would you like us to call you Fire, then?”

He takes a deep breath. Keeps walking. “Sure. That sounds great.”

“Fire it is,” Fog says, beaming. She extends a hand to shake. Aurum accepts. Her grip is firm, and it feels a little strange with the webbing between her fingers, but he returns it.

“Thank you,” he says again. “For calling them off.”

She smiles. Her hair floats behind her despite the stillness of the air around them. “Things have been the same for a very long time. I like change. And besides, haven’t met anyone like me in a couple decades. That we didn’t chase off, that is.” Fog laughs.

Aurum doesn’t reply.

He looks to Esker and Moraine. They’re gesturing to each other, sign that Aurum can’t quite parse. Wonders what they’re saying that he can’t understand. He doesn’t press the issue.

He’s not quite sure how long has passed, the four of them moving in near silence, before Esker and Moraine stop. Aurum strains his eyes in the dark, realizing they’ve stopped at an impossibly hidden cave mouth. “We’re here,” Esker says. Their voice is harsh, whitewater through boulders.

Moraine grins, pulling back a curtain of ivy that Aurum’d be willing to bet that he grew himself. “Welcome to our humble abode,” he jokes. Esker gives him a little smile as they duck underneath, disappearing into the darkness.

Aurum takes a deep breath, and he follows after them.

Despite his hesitance, he falls in with their little pack. It’s a weight off of his shoulders, not having to constantly watch his back, even if it takes him a while to let his guard down around them. He still doesn’t let them know the details, why he left the City, the life he used to live.

None of that really matters out here. Not with the day to day survival. It’s a relief that Aurum basks in greedily.

Life out here is different, but it is simple. Days spent foraging and hunting, nights spent in the cave or taking turns keeping watch. There’s a rotation, but it seems like he’s being passed around the other ghouls.

He likes them all, truly. Fog is sweet, if a little pushy, stuck to his side. Sometimes, when the two of them are alone on patrol, or looking for edible plants, Aurum will sing under his breath. Something formless and quiet. But sometimes, Fog will join along with him and it feels right.

Aurum likes that a lot. The feeling right.

Moraine and Esker are both grounding presences, easy and confident with their movements. It’s been a while since Aurum’s been with ghouls bigger than him, and sometimes it’s unnerving to look up at where they tower over him.

But they know this part of the Seventh with their eyes closed, and Aurum feels, for the first time in a long while, truly safe.

A few years after falling in with their little pack, Moraine takes him out on patrol. There’s a bright light in the bright green of his eyes, and Aurum can’t help but be intrigued. He follows the earth ghoul a long ways into the forest, finding a rocky outcropping on the very edge of their territory.

He sits, patting the ground next to him. Aurum hesitates for a short moment before following.

Moraine reaches for a pouch on his belt, pulling out a handrolled joint. He turns to Aurum, something bright glinting in his eyes, his rectangular pupils wide. “You ever smoke miasma, Fire?”

Even from here, not lit yet, Aurum can smell it, herbal and strong. “Name rings a bell but I dunno if I have,” he says, leaning up against the rock they’re posted up on. “What’s it do?”

Moraine grins, raising an eyebrow. “You’d know if you had, it’s supposedly the best way to relax in the entire Seventh. One?”

He extends the cigarette to him, and Aurum shrugs and takes it. “I’ll get you a light?” he offers in return, taking the joint and setting it between his lips. Aurum focuses hard, calling a spark with a snap of his fingers. It takes a few tries to get enough magic to light the joint, but Moraine grins like it’s a miracle anyways, inhaling with a deep sigh.

“What a natural,” he teases as Aurum lights his own. Grey smoke streams from his lips as he speaks. “Sure you’ve never?”

Aurum inhales, coaxing the embers at the end to glow. He nearly doubles over with the force of the coughs that wrack him as the smoke hits his lungs. Moraine pats him square between his shoulderblades. His laughter rings out, a flock of birds scattering at the noise.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he teases once Aurum’s regained some composure.

“Oh, fuck off,” Aurum laughs, still coughing a little on the exhale. It takes a couple minutes, but his shoulders drop as the miasma works its way into his system. Moraine lets his eyes shut.

“That’s the good stuff,” he says, leaning back against the rock, his arms crossed over his chest. “Will Foggy have my head when we get back because we were fucking off instead of keeping watch? Maybe.”

“We can bring something back for dinner, that’ll lighten her mood,” Aurum supplies. His blood feels like it’s slowing down, almost thick and syrupy in his veins. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he hasn’t felt this calm in a long time. “Besides, you could offer her some of this.”

“She doesn’t like how it smells,” Moraine says, lowering his voice like someone will overhear this little secret.

Aurum’s nose crinkles. “She has a point, it doesn’t exactly smell good,” he says, taking another slow hit. His eyes track the smoke curling up into the branches. Lets himself sink into a frankly pleasant high.

He doesn’t know how long he sits with Moraine, listening to the wind rustle through the branches. The joints burn down, the embers stamped out on the rock. Aurum floats, mind empty but in a pleasant way, nothing like the way he’d leave his body before.

There’s a rush of a sound that Aurum’s never heard before, impossible to describe, that chills him to the bone. He startles, eyes flying open, and nearly falls off of the outcropping.

Moraine laughs, steadying him. “’S just the portal, Fire, we’re alright.” He gestures to the obsidian frame that towers over the forest. Aurum turns to look, brows furrowing as his brain tries to comprehend.

Instead of an empty frame, there’s a swirling white energy filling the portal. It reflects off of the smoke in the air, shining almost silver. Moraine sets a hand on his shoulder. “A human Up Top’s summoning ghouls.”

“How pissed would Esker and Fog be if we went through?” Aurum says. Moraine gives him a look, and Aurum throws his hands up. “Just asking, didn’t mean we should.”

“They’d be incredibly pissed. The color means the human’s looking for an air ghoul and-”

Moraine cuts himself off. “Oh shit, there’s a whole pack coming this way,” he whispers, ears pinned back. His eyes go cold, and he stands up on the outcropping. Aurum scrambles clumsily to his own.

He’s never actually encountered another pack trying to take territory. He’s seen Esker and Moraine both come back to the den with bruises and scrapes and giant, toothy grins on their faces. But he’s never had to deal with them himself. And now that he’s high? He’s fucked.

Aurum stands just to Moraine’s right, bracing himself for whatever’s coming this way. And after a moment, he too can hear it. Pounding footsteps, snarls, the yelps of someone being chased.

Moraine relaxes the slightest amount. “Pack after a lone ghoul, we probably don’t have to be worried yet.”

Even so, Moraine stands at attention, ready to leap into action the moment the action shifts. Aurum’s chest heaves, the pleasant high long gone. He watches through the trees as the ghouls come into view.

Just like Moraine said. One ghoul, water if he had to guess, making a dead sprint away from the close to ten other chasing them. Even from the distance, they look exhausted.

But stopping means they’ll be ripped to shreds. A whole pack only chases a singular ghoul for one reason, and it isn’t to stop and talk out any missteps.

Aurum realizes they’re running to the portal. He hopes they make it. That they’ll have a chance Up Top.

The ghoul sprints into the portal. Even from this distance, a blood-curdling scream echoes through the trees, a spray of ash pluming up from where the ghoul disappeared. The pack chasing them stops. Begins to turn around and disperse.

Moraine winces hard, hissing through his fangs. “Oh, poor thing,” he says, but there’s almost a bitterness to his tone. “It’s a shame.”

Aurum blinks. “What do you mean?” His head still feels a little stuffy, heart pounding at his sternum like it’s trying to break free.

Moraine looks back over his shoulder at him. “That was a portal meant for an air ghoul, Fire,” he says, shrugging a little. “Most humans who can filter portals don’t exactly care about what happens to any ghoul that tries to go through that isn’t the right element.”

“Oh,” Aurum says smartly. He feels his stomach start to drop as the pieces fall together.

“Easiest way for a summoner to make sure they get the right ghoul is to kill the wrong ones.”

They stand there in silence, Aurum’s head spinning violently. After a while, Moraine hops off of the outcropping, starts heading back towards the den.

Aurum stares at the portal, still swirling with magic, for a little while longer.

“You coming?” Moraine calls.

“Yeah, just a second!” Aurum calls back. He takes one more moment. Something familiar itches at the back of his tongue, but it’s been decades since anything close to a prayer fell from his lips. Aurum doesn’t say a word. He turns and follows Moraine back to the cave.

He doesn’t think about it, throwing a bright smile on his face when they return to Esker and Fog and the warmth of their den.

The time passes, as it does. The incident slips from his mind in favor of his friends, patrols and forage and hunting and sharing meals. The responsibilities are split between the four of them, and Aurum keeps finding himself grateful he’s no longer on his own. Even if he still feels a little uneasy after all this time.

He and Fog are left in the den, one late afternoon, Esker and Moraine out together. Fog likes to whisper to him about earth ghoul courting rituals, about, for as long as the two of them have taken her under their wing, Esker and Moraine have been circling each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Secretly, Aurum enjoys the lighthearted gossip, leaning down so Fog can whisper in his ear like they’re both kits. But she cuts herself off as footsteps grow louder and louder, and Aurum finds himself shifting in front of her on instinct.

Fog’s eyes dart to the mouth of the cave, ears pinning back for a moment before Esker ducks into the den. She relaxes and nudges her shoulder against Aurum as she stands to greet them. Esker presses their forehead to hers, and she shuts her eyes and inhales.

Esker smiles at her, tusks jutting out from their lower lip. They turn to Aurum, all of the warmth and smile fading as they look at him. “Peel these,” they say. “Dinner for later.”

Aurum nods, accepting the armful of foraged roots that the older ghoul puts in front of him. Feels the ping of jealousy as Fog gets their affection. But his stomach growls, and they’re still allowing him in their territory after all this time, so he pulls a black glass blade from his belt as Esker steps out of the cave to rejoin Moraine on patrols.

Maybe they’ll come back with something they’ve hunted. Aurum licks over his teeth at the thought. As uneasy as it makes him sometimes, he’s admittedly been eating much better now that he’s with a group.

Fog takes the large pot to the hot spring at the back of the cave, a burbling little thing, as she starts to focus. Slowly, she draws water from the humidity, a dripping bubble of pure, clean water, all of the minerals left behind. It hangs with ease in the air in front of her, not a drop spilled.

Aurum sighs, peeling each root with the sharp edge of the glass. His eyes keep going to Fog. The ease with which she uses her elements.

He’s too lost in his thoughts, his knife slipping and catching the side of his thumb. It blooms bright and painful, dark blood immediately welling up. “Fuck,” he hisses, dropping both the blade and the root he’d been paring at and pressing his thumb to his mouth. Iron coats his tongue.

Fog looks over at his outburst. Her eyes go wide, and she quickly guides the floating water into the pot, not spilling a drop. She scrambles over to his side. “You alright?” she asks, voice surprisingly soft.

“Think I’ll live,” he says around his thumb. “Stupid mistake.”

“One I’ve made more times than I’d care to admit,” Fog says lightly. Her hand touches his wrist, and Aurum glances up to her, gold to silver. “May I see?”

Aurum’s brow furrows the tiniest bit, and he can see her eyes lock onto the change in his expression. Regardless, he takes his hand from his mouth and offers it to her. It’s bleeding still, more sluggishly than it first was, but it hasn’t stopped yet.

Fog hisses in sympathy. She’s close enough that he can make out the detail of her eyelashes, the tiniest down feathers lining her eyes. “Ouch. You want some help?”

He nods, looks away from her. A strange swell of emotion bubbles up in his chest, but he’s quick to swallow it back down. Fog chirps, a soft trill trailing upwards in pitch, and her magic connects with him.

He’s no real stranger to Fog’s quintessence, something like grounding a circuit. It almost feels cold, electric. Aurum’s shoulders slump as it works its way through his nervous system, connecting to something at the very core of him that he doesn’t want to turn inward to examine.

It doesn’t take her long to close up the slice in his thumb. There isn’t even a blemish there when she’s done.

“Thank you,” he whispers, reaching for where he dropped his knife. “It’s- uh. Real appreciated.”

She smiles, all of her serrated teeth on full display. “Don’t mention it,” she says, scooping up the vegetables and roots he’d managed to peel before injuring himself to put in the pot. “Accidents happen.”

Aurum takes a deep breath, those weird emotions not going away. “Can I ask you something without you reading too into it?”

Fog looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow coyly. “You just did, Fire.”

He rolls his eyes, huffing a soft laugh. Despite himself, the corner of his lip curls up into a fond smile. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Shoot,” Fog replies, wedging the pot between a few rocks in the hot spring. She pushes damp violet hair out of her face as she sits cross-legged at the edge of the water.

“How long have you known you weren’t just one element?” Aurum asks, not quite trusting his voice.

Fog hums. “Oh, that kinda question, I see.” There’s no malice in her voice, but Aurum still feels his face heat up. “I was still a fledgling when my water and quint came in. Early and loud enough that my pack knew before I did.”

Something in his chest twists. Aurum stares at his hands. “Oh, that must have been..” he trails off, glancing up to her.

Fog just cocks her head, giving him a little confused trill. She stands and steps towards him like he might startle. “That wasn’t a bad thing, Fire,” she says slowly, like she’s just stumbled across something big. Maybe she has. She sits back down at his side. “My parents knew early, and they were able to ask for help from the water ghouls who lived close to my aerie. There were no quint ghouls near us, but you get the principle?”

Something in his chest twists, hard and sharp and painful. He nods.

“Both of my parents are air ghouls,” she says. “I was the first multi in my flock in a generation. We’re not exactly common, but we do exist in greater numbers than a lot of folks think. There were, hmm, three more of us in my parents’ generation? It’s been a century and a half since I’ve seen them, give or take.”

Aurum sits quietly. He pulls at the skin surrounding the base of his claws. His tail flicks, and he wants nothing more than to take it between his sharp teeth and gnaw at it like a kit. “Did-” He starts, swallowing hard before turning and meeting her eye. “Fog, why did you leave? Was your air not… not good enough?”

“That wasn’t it,” she hums, not quite looking at him. “I’d lived in the same mountain range for two centuries,” she says. It’s nonchalant. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he doesn’t know why. “I wanted to see the world. Sure, my magic was nowhere as near as strong as my siblings’. But it was never ‘not good enough.’”

His brow furrows, knife pausing. “Oh.”

She chirps, glancing up at him. Aurum can feel her eyes on the side of his head. “Was that why you left? Because you couldn’t keep up with your peers?”

Aurum doesn’t respond. The silence is damning enough.

“That’s not fair,” She says. Fog sets her jaw, arms crossed. Aurum glances to her, sees how the flesh dimples where her talons push at the skin. “Fire, whoever told you that was wrong.”

He huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to the pile of roots. He tosses one into the heating pot with a splash. Does his best to shut his mind off, feels the memories pressing for attention. Avoids them all. “Alright,” he says, but he knows that she doesn’t believe him.

“Fire, listen to me,” she presses. Aurum feels himself disappearing inside of his body again. Tries his best to listen and to fight the haze he’s slipping into.

“Of course you couldn’t keep up with any of your fire ghoul peers,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He flinches hard. Her voice sounds like it’s coming through water. “You’re not a fire ghoul.”

It still doesn’t make sense, so he actively chooses not to try and parse it. Easier to live with what he knows.

The tiniest voice in the back of his mind tells him to listen to Fog. That she knows what she’s talking about. He squashes it.

“Okay,” he says. Fog huffs loudly, and Aurum shudders hard away from her.

“Fire, you’ve gotta listen to me,” she says, in a tone that suggests she’s trying her hardest not to just scream at him out of frustration. “I’ve been telling you, since we met, that you’ve got more than one element in there.” She pushes a talon at his chest. “Please, I know what I’m talking about.”

Aurum looks up at her. “It would have shown itself when I was a kit, like you. Maybe, really, I’m just a bad fire ghoul.”

Fog sighs. She crosses her arms. “Please just think about it, Fire?”

“Sure,” he says. They both know the truth.

With a soft groan, Fog pushes herself to her feet. “I- Fire. I’m going to go see if Esk and Moraine need some help. Stir the pot once it gets to a boil for me?”

She doesn’t look back to see if he answers; she’s already on her way out of the mouth of their cave.

Aurum sighs. Runs a hand through his locs. He doesn’t watch her leave, already turning back to the pack’s dinner.

He glances to the mouth of the cave for a split moment before bringing the spade of his tail to his lips like a kit, chewing it in sharp fangs. Once again, he tastes blood.

Only this time, there’ll be no quintessence for it.

The years pass, turning to decades. Aurum feels content like this in a way he never has before, slotting into place as he walks alongside this pack. A little more muscle, the last of the five elements in their ranks. A piece made to fit in a puzzle.

Esker pulls him aside more than once, an easy smile on their lips as the two of them take their turn to keep watch. The forest is dark and quiet, nothing but footsteps on earth and wind rustling barren branches, their eyes shining in the dark.

“I’m glad we got you,” Esker signs one night, nudging Aurum’s side with a particularly bony elbow. When he turns to look them in the eye, there’s a fox-like grin on their face. Aurum can’t help himself but return it, nudges them back as they walk. It’s about time to change shifts, heading back to the den in near lockstep.

“Thanks,” he signs back a little too stiffly. He’s still a little clumsy signing, but Esker corrects him with gentle hands, moving his own to the correct position. It’s strange, the gentle correction. Aurum doesn’t dwell on it. Something in his chest hurts if he does.

The earth ghoul pulls their long hair back in a quick, meticulously neat braid, deep forest green falling over their shoulder. Aurum watches, a little entranced. “You’re a good kid,” they sign once their hands are free again. “Even for a City ghoul.”

Aurum hides the way something twists in his chest by making a face of mock disgust. “Spent more time in the Outer Circles than in the City, at this point.”

“Suppose you can’t help it,” Esker signs. Aurum rolls his eyes playfully to mask the sting.

“Come on, Esk,” Aurum says, running a hand over his locs to push them out of his face. The cave comes into view, and Aurum doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved in his life.

He has trouble sleeping most nights, even as he finally becomes accustomed to living with a group once again. The fire’s long gone out, the only sound the bubbling of the spring and the quiet breathing next to him, Fog’s weight pressed against him as she lays against him.

Aurum lays on his side, head propped up in his hand as he stares at her. He's entranced by the movement of her hair, shifting ethereal in a breeze that doesn't exist, curling like wisps of smoke, the flicker of flame.

Fog's eyes track lazily over to him, shifting on her back in the lichen. They glow silver in the low light, pupilless. All they can hear is each other's breathing, Esker and Moraine's footsteps as they prowl outside of the den. "What'chu lookin' at?" she says, slow and quiet.

He rolls his eyes, plops back onto his back as she rolls onto her side, mimicking the position he was just in. She holds her cheek with the heel of her hand. "What do you think I'm looking at?" he says, matching her tone. He lets his eyes shut. Fog's gaze is piercing nonetheless.

"Oh, come on, Fire," she croons, and he shudders at the name she's given him. It feels like rubbing velvet the wrong way. It's too late to tell her to stop, so he bears it. She traces a fingertip up the bridge of his nose. "Tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours."

He sighs, cracking one eye open to meet Fog's smile, something sharp glinting in her eye. "What do you think comes after this?"

"Ooh, deeply philosophical time, is it?" She lays back on her side, resting her head on his collarbone. "Talking about what comes after we die."

He shakes his head. His nose scrunches as her hair wisps over his cheek. Featherlight facsimile of a caress. "No, not that. I mean. We have our life, out here. Hunting and defending and taking shifts to sleep. What comes after this? What do we do next?"

Fog laughs, serrated fangs bared all too close to his throat. It almost sounds like chapel bells. Almost. "What do we do next?" she parrots, staring up at him curiously. "Fire, this is all there is out here in a pack like this. This is the life I've lived since I left my aerie. And it will be the life I live until some larger pack chases us out of this part of the Seventh. And then, we will find somewhere new and safer, and we will do it again. We keep living. That's what comes next for ghouls like us."

Aurum's brow furrows and he stares up at the roof of the cave. The fire's nearly died out, the barest of flickers of shadow moving against the rock. "There has to be more than that."

"Sure, there could be," she says, humming low in her throat. "We could always stumble upon another stray to take in." Fog nudges him, teasing.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"That’s the last new thing that’s happened to us, you know it’s true,” she says, nudging his shoulder with hers again. "Or Esker and Moraine could finally admit they've been circling each other for decades and finally start courting properly."

Aurum looks at her. "Fog."

She barely acknowledges him. Fog shrugs. "If you want more than this, Fire, the City is where there's more."

He rolls his eyes, a little annoyance seeping into his scent. "I'm not going back to the City. I can’t. You know this."

“But you never tell me why,” she sighs, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Her hand, small and taloned, sits just above his heart. It beats against her palm, and even through his shirt, Aurum can feel the points of her talons.

Not a threat. Never a threat. But he knows they’re there. “Hurts too much,” he admits, voice smaller than he thinks she’s ever heard it. “Can’t.”

Fog sighs again. Doesn’t push the issue. Just pushes another one instead. "I could always teach you how to use your quintessence, and Esker and Moraine your earth. That’s more, isn’t it?"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm just fire, Fog?" Aurum doesn't realize he's growling until Fog laughs again, shoving his shoulder playfully.

"You keep telling yourself that," she laughs. There's a flicker of violet dancing between her claws, and she raises her hand to admire the magic that comes effortlessly to her. It reflects in the silver of her eyes. "Quintessence is magnetic. You know, when we met, I wasn't going to stop Esker and Moraine?"

"I know," he sighs. “You’ve told me.”

"You were a threat to us. You know a full grown ghoul your size is dangerous, even with our numbers. But I was drawn to you, and I saw quintessence on your fingers when you begged them to stop."

"It has been decades since I met you," Aurum says, wondering if Moraine will let him dip into his miasma stash when he comes back from watch. His head's starting to hurt, fingers and the spade of his tail twitching uneasily. He fights the urge to stuff it between his teeth and chew until his skin’s raw. "And I still believe you're making shit up."

Fog sits up, brushing her hair out of her face so it floats back from her shoulders, rippling slowly on an imaginary breeze. She looks down at him, eyes cloud grey and burning. "Fire, you are as stubborn as they come. One day, you'll see I'm right."

“Sure,” he says. She smiles, and Aurum can’t help himself but return it as she smooths a loc out of his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He doesn’t know if she notices.

Regardless, Fog lays back down, curls back into his side. Aurum holds her wrist, fingers wrapped all the way around. Feels her pulse. Lets the steady rhythm lull him to sleep.

He doesn’t dream so much out here. But tonight, he finds himself in all too familiar a dream, even if it’s only the second time he’s ever had it. There’s no forgetting this.

That strange man towers in front of him again. Cast in relief by the flickering fires behind him. The light glints off of metal in his hair, wrapped around his horns.

Aurum looks up at him. Something twists hard in his stomach. “Why are you back,” he says. Even in sleep, he feels exhausted, sluggish. He stumbles towards him. His feet catch in the ground like he’s walking through mud.

The man doesn’t answer. Aurum can feel his eyes pinning him in place.

“Leave me alone,” he says, growling, hackles raised. “I want no part of you.”

The man still doesn’t answer. Aurum isn’t surprised at all. He takes a step forward. The man takes a step back.

“What the fuck do you want,” Aurum presses. He keeps walking. The man gets no closer. Just watches.

“Answer me!” Aurum growls, trying to lunge. His feet sink into the ground, rock closing around his ankles.

He wakes with a gasp, jolting upright. Fog grumbles, curling in on herself as his sudden movement disturbs her from where she was laying on his chest. “You alright, Fire?” she mumbles, blinking slowly awake.

The name stings but there’s no better alternative. “’m fine, Foggy. Go back to sleep, we’ve got patrol tonight.”

She hums, a soft little thing, as he lays back down, pulling her into his arms. He doesn’t fall back asleep. He stares at the cave ceiling overhead, feeling the stone close around his ankles.

He doesn’t question it.

Time passes in a haze, as it always seems to do. It’s much of the same, nothing of note other than chasing off a few lone ghouls eager to stake their claim on Esker and Moraine’s territory.

Aurum walks alongside Fog, keeping his footsteps a little slower so she can make pace on shorter legs. He’s supposed to keep his head on a swivel as they patrol the edges of their pack’s territory, but his mind is elsewhere.

There’s a portal on the very edge of no man’s land, the edge of the obsidian frame jutting up against where Esker and Moraine claimed a few decades before Aurum joined them. It looms over the treeline, visible through the scraggly, bare branches.

He can feel her eyes on him. Normally, it’s a comfort to know he’s being seen, but sometimes it feels like ice shot into his veins. Aurum can’t quite tell what she’s trying to find. She’s always been near impossible to read.

“What’s up, Foggy?” he says quietly, trying to broach carefully.

“Nothing,” she hums, glancing ahead of them to where they walk. The portal frame grows ever closer.

Aurum’s shoulders almost curl in on themselves, but he forces himself to stay alert and present. He glances behind them, making sure they’re not being followed.

Fog whistles, high and shrill, like a facsimile of birdcall. Aurum’s ears pin back as he tries to tune her out, the sound scraping at his brain. Not to mention, it carries, and she’s broadcasting exactly where they are to any ghouls that could hear.

Either Fog doesn’t realize this, or she doesn’t care. Aurum watches Fog’s dark hair float on the air behind her, in constant, gentle motion. The portal looms ever closer.

There’s something building in Aurum’s chest as they walk, and it takes him a while to realize that it’s dread. He remembers the man in his dream, his silhouette burnt into the backs of his eyelids, and pauses in his tracks. He blinks the image away before Fog can notice he's stopped.

They keep walking until they’re just in front of the portal. It’s up on a cliff, past the tree line. Aurum can see over the forests of the Seventh, stretching almost to the edge of the Sixth. Fog leans up against the frame of the portal, her eyes closed and arms crossed over her narrow chest.

Aurum sighs, stretching until something in his back pops, and he groans in relief. Fog’s been quiet, and it’s making him uneasy. But he will wait for her to keep moving, not wanting to leave her on her own even in the safety of Esker and Moraine’s territory.

Fog stops whistling. All Aurum can hear is the wind rustling through the branches, carrying sulfur and smoke. He stands there and stares through the empty portal.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve stopped when Fog’s eyes shoot open, bright silver, as the ground tremors almost imperceptibly. She lunges off of the portal frame, scrambling back towards the treeline. Aurum’s feet feel frozen to the rock underneath them, every hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

A sound Aurum’s only ever heard once before in his life rumbles through the air, infinitely louder than the last time.

The portal.

A rush of magic hits him as the portal ignites. He’s pushed onto his back foot by the overwhelming familiarity of it, bright red and orange and yellow even through his eyelids. Burning bright and warm. Aurum realizes, with a rush of almost giddy surprise, that it’s a fire portal. It’s been so long since he’s felt fire magic like this outside of himself.

Behind him, ducked behind the trunk of a long dead tree, Fog laughs. “What do you know?” Aurum can hear the grin on her face. “Someone up there needs a fire ghoul.”

Aurum rolls his neck. Something pops just on the right side of unpleasant. He looks back at her. “You three still need me?”

Fog furrows her brow, and if Aurum knew any better, he’d call the look she gets in her eye something like panic. “Fire, you’re not- it’ll-” she stammers, voice barely able to be heard over the humming of magic.

He just rolls his eyes. “Decades, I’ve known you, Fog, and you keep trying to make me believe something that isn’t true.”

“Fire,” she says, a little louder this time. “Do not go through that fucking portal.”

He turns around now, a little dumbfounded by the genuine fear he sees on her face. “Why not? I’ll be fine. I’m just Fire, right?”

She snarls. “Lucifer, Fire, sure. If you really, truly think you’re a fire ghoul, go through the portal. But I’m not watching you go up in ash.”

He shakes his head, lip curling up in a sneer. “Fog. I won’t. I’m tired of insisting that I’m something I’m not. You don’t know me.”

Fog just laughs, blinking rapidly in disbelief. “I don’t know you?” She scoffs. “And whose fault is that? I’ve been trying to know you the entire time you've been with us!”

“And yet, you keep pushing.” Aurum knows he’s toeing a line, has seen the skill with which Fog hunts and fights, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Cant take no for an answer, can we, Foggy?”

Fog’s eyes burn at that, a low, uncharacteristic growl bubbling in her chest as she stalks out of the trees towards him.

“If you want to keep calling yourself a fire ghoul, then be my fucking guest,” Fog snarls, gesturing to where the portal swirls, orange and yellow and red, flickering with magic like pure flame. “Go through.”

“It’s not gonna do shit, Fog, I am a fire ghoul!” he snaps back, a growl building low in his chest. She doesn’t shy back, stands her ground. Fog isn’t afraid of him flashing a few teeth.

She lunges, and Aurum just barely manages to catch her wrist before she claws his face with her talons. He doesn’t use his full strength, and she’s able to rip herself free with barely any effort.

Fog pants, her gills flaring, something glinting bright in her eyes that isn’t the reflection of the portal behind him. Her upper lip curls into a snarl. “How fucking long have I put up with you and your denial,” she growls, starting to circle him.

Aurum moves with her, eyes not leaving her. Waiting for any sudden movement like it’s going to do him any good. He knows how fast she is. He rolls his wrists, claws out. “Not denying anything, Fog. You know how long I’ve been saying it.”

She laughs, sharp and piercing. “Denial,” she crows. “I know you have quintessence. Esker and Moraine know you have earth. I’m fucking exhausted of you being the only one who refuses to accept that. I want you to split the work, pull your share. When Esker and Moraine come back from patrol hurt. When they chase off threats and the threats fight back. I refuse to be the only one who can heal them. I know you can, Fire. I can help you. Please let me help you,” she urges. For a moment there’s something genuine in her eyes, but it’s quickly covered back up with rage. “You just have to fucking listen to me for once.”

“Fuck you,” Aurum snarls. Fog lunges, and he just manages to duck out of the way of her wrath. Despite his blood simmering in his veins, there’s a sour taste in his mouth at just the thought of actually hurting her.

“No, fuck you,” she snaps back. “Inconsiderate son of a bitch.”

The simmering erupts into a full boil. Aurum’s eyes glaze over.

Fog grins as he lashes out. His jaws crack together like an alligator’s, eyes burning and molten. He grabs her outstretched wrist as she tries to strike him, throwing her to the rocky ground instead.

She rolls when she makes impact. Graceful in the way only an air ghoul could be, fluid like water. “Oh, there he is,” she taunts, eyes flashing like quicksilver. “There’s the threat.”

“Fuck off, Fog,” Aurum growls, lunging again. She hisses when one of his claws makes purchase and rips. The scent of iron nearly drowns out the sulfur and smoke.

She growls, a cornered animal, and shrieks. Aurum pins his ears back to his head. It’s too shrill, a banshee like warcry. His heart drops through his stomach, even as he tries to shove her back.

Fog is smaller than him by a long shot. But that just makes her fast. Her talons catch his shoulder, tearing down his arm. Black blood burns as it drenches him. The pain makes his knees buckle and his head spin.

But he’s survived this long. He stands there and takes it. Snarls like something feral and throws her to the ground with a thud.

Fog’s back on her feet in an instant, scraped up by the broken basalt. But she’s just as hardy as him. “Go through the fire portal, Fire,” she snaps, something bright and manic in her eyes. “Because Esk and Moraine are on their way. They heard you hurt me, Fire. They’re going to tear you apart.”

“I’ll take my fucking chances,” he says, bracing himself for her next lunge just in time. They snarl as they crash together, teeth snapping and claws seeking purchase. “I survived long enough on my own without you, I’m sure I can fend off all three of you.”

Fog just laughs, high and clear. Aurum’s suddenly reminded of chapel bells. “No, you can’t,” she says, doubled over laughing like he’s told her the funniest joke she’s ever heard. “Fire, Fire, sure, you’ve been running with us for decades now. But you’ve said it yourself. You’re a City ghoul. You couldn’t.”

He snarls, lunging at her. She just sidesteps, light on her feet and calling on her air. Fog’s eyes are bright and manic, serrated teeth glinting red from the light of the portal. Aurum tries to call on his fire, but as per fucking usual, it doesn’t answer.

Fog braces herself to pounce again, talons and fangs extended, and Aurum knows there’s really only one way out of this.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the fire portal.

Aurum’s always been able to handle fire once it’s been lit. Has felt the warmth, but never any pain when it touches his skin. This is something else.

Aurum screams, because it is the only thing he can do. He has never known pain like this. He squeezes his eyes shut as the magic rushes and roils around him, burning away at him.

He could step back. Face Fog and Esker and Moraine. Stop all of this and never feel like this again.

Aurum keeps going.

He crawls from the Pit snarling, eyes wild and blood under his claws. The air is cold, too crisp in his lungs, burning cold. Everything fucking hurts. Aurum's eyes try to focus through the pain. He wobbles on his feet, the stone underneath them so cold it burns.

He's not alone. He can sense presences behind him, strange and foreign. But that's not nearly as important as what's in front of him.

The three ghouls standing in front of him are what's important. A truly massive quintessence ghoul. A towering, lanky earth ghoul. And between them, a fire-eyed water ghoul, silver hair falling down their back in curtains. A pack. All three of them glance to each other, before turning their eyes back to him, before looking behind him. The big quintessence ghoul takes a step forward.

Aurum snarls, head spinning. He gets a look at his own arms as he holds them up defensively, claws out. They're covered in bruises and burns and claw marks, and he barely manages to keep the horror from his expression. Black blood splatters against the sigils carved into the stone under his feet in a steady drip. Drip. Drip.

"How did- Cardinal, how did you manage to get a multighoul through the portal alive?" A woman's voice echoes through the tall ceilinged room. Her voice is severe, sending a shudder down his spine. The three other ghouls all flinch. He hasn't even seen this woman, but he knows she's dangerous.

"The filter was set correctly, Sister," a man promises, voice reedy and almost panicked. "Only a fire ghoul should have been able to make it through witho-"

The quintessence ghoul reaches an arm out, his eyes wide, mouth moving like he’s saying something, but Aurum can’t make his eyes focus, vision darkening around the edges. His head spins. Or is it the room that’s spinning? He can't tell.

The ground rushes up to meet him.

There’s a thud, and the world goes black.

[veilkeeper]

60 for the kissing prompts for Corentin and Emmrich?

(prompt from here)

60. kisses with their last dying breath (480 words)

"You know... With all the trouble I used to get into, I always sort of figured I'd go young," Corentin says slowly, wheezing slightly on the exhale. His lungs didn't know quite how to fill all the way anymore, and each breath was weaker and shakier than the last. And while his lover and the rest of the Mourn Watch had done an admirable job of keeping his sickness at bay, his time was drawing close.

"Please don't say that," Emmrich replies from his post at Corentin's bed. He's been there non-stop the last few days, hardly daring to leave his side. "This isn't funny, dear."

"I'm not laughing." Not that he could, much. "Just giving perspective, I guess. It could be worse."

Without his glamour, Emmrich's face is a blank slate, showing only the regal and unemotive bearing of a skull. But Corentin had known him long enough to see the tells elsewhere—his slumped shoulders, the way his hands pressed together hard enough that his wrapped phalanges trembled. The way he couldn't quite face Corentin head on.

"I'm really not sure how," he admits, more to the blankets than to Corentin himself. "I... thought I'd be more prepared."

Gentle, weak fingers find Emmrich's wrist, squeezing with the remnants of a strength that had faded in his months of bedrest. "You are the only person I've ever met who thought they could prepare for grieving," he chuckles lightly, grimacing at the way it tightens his chest, holding back the cough through will alone. "You can't think your way out of this. But you'll be fine."

"The light of my life, my most dearest love, will be gone. How can I possibly be fine?"

"Because I'm asking you to be. You'll do me that favour, won't you?" He slides his hand up, hooking a finger under Emmrich's chin to nudge him forward. And as he always has, he indulges Corentin by leaning closer. "Mourn me, but don't stop being you, okay? You still have books to read and new friends to meet, you know."

"None shall ever compare to you, my dear." His voice is projected clearly, despite that it would be frail and shaking were he still mortal. Never before had he so strongly wished their positions were reversed—that he'd never done his rites and he had gone first. Spared himself watching the most vibrant, beautiful person he will ever have the pleasure of meeting deteriorate like this.

"Give them a chance anyway. And when you have a second, visit me and your parents and tell us all about it. I'll live vicariously through you. Forever and ever." With effort, he leans forwards to press still-warm lips to Emmrich's teeth, a gentle kiss goodbye. "Love you, Emm."

"I love you, too," Emmrich tells him, knowing the words have never once sufficiently captured the depth of his feeling, but wishing that they could now, just this final time.

[celticrune]

More thoughts on that OC AU post because now I have AUs and characterisation on the brain. Here are my characters in order of easiest to hardest to put in Situations: Keiji: Easiest by far. It's a rare AU where I even really have to think about where to put him. He's a drifter by nature, is easily entertained with violence and sex, and doesn't have some troublesome moral alignment that can limit his options. His only real limit is that he's an absolutely terrible protagonist, by virtue of the above lack of care and lack of moral alignment.

Tanwen: Also easy, but on the opposite axis from Keiji. She's easy not because she's a genre chameleon but because she's such a sunshine that she changes the tone of any world she's put in. She will carve out some small foothold of hope and kindness and she will remind anyone of their heart, because she's a radiant beacon of fervent hope and it's impossible to engage with her without baring something true. But also when I'm not breaking her naivety on the horrors of war any story she's in will inevitably become a romcom and i'm not sorry

Val: As the third former DnD character in the list, Val's still pretty decent troublemaker/adventurer/hero material. I'm also usually fairly sure what tone I want to hit for them and where I want to put them in AUs, but they're in third because the places they can go are fairly limited. While an arc about recovering one's identity and agency can go multiple ways, Val's being as strongly tied into Temperance as a maternal figure makes her an inevitable tagalong. Does mean that any new AU usually means a new way for her to die, which is cathartic.

Althea: Easy to adapt, not always easy to make relevant. Any world can do with a spoiled young woman from an out of touch upper class who just wants to be adored and exercise some small breath of control in her own life. Her trouble comes when there's adventuring afoot, because she's perfectly content to sit in her position of privilege and leave the hard work to other people. Not a good protagonist, but in any setting where she can lounge around and be pretty she's very easy to adapt. Themes of being the least favoured daughter and internalised misogyny are pretty broadly interpretable.

Jay: A man sent from hell to torture me personally. Not impossible to adapt, or even all that hard, but he's much less sculptable than any of the above. Jay is always Jay, no matter how much I try to throw curveballs at him. He's stubborn enough to retain much more of himself across universes than most, and still he refuses to fucking narrate anything. Learn to have a conversation. Be literally anything other than a bear. I beg you.

Angharad: Worst worst worst worst worst. This man both is and occupies one single niche and I refuse to let him be more. He's all my worst arrogance and judgemental snobbishness and he deserves to suffer for it. He can go in any AU where he can have an intellectual superiority complex, and has zero interest in any others.

Bonus round: James Atlas Trick question, James is both the best and worst. It doesn't count as an AU when he's just The Same Guy.

[peachypizzicato]

Gifted, Juvenile

The pharmacy was abuzz following Wenona’s reveal. Tozu Trinket screens blinked alive all around the room followed closely by laughter, jeering, scolding. Atticus hesitantly awoke their own Trinket, opening the student reports to see for themselves.

Eva Tsunaka. Officially, the Ultimate Mathlete.

Huh, they thought. Guess she wasn't actually the Ultimate Liar. An odd form of deception, but nothing worth making a fuss over.

Making a fuss over…

Their mind clicked back into reality. Still, their classmates spoke openly of their disappointment and disgust as Eva shrunk further into herself, seemingly moments away from hyperventilation.

Oh, give me a break.

The noise in the room diminished, and all eyes were suddenly on Atticus. Their thoughts managed to slink their way out into the air, but they didn't feel the typical blackhole of anxiety pulling them in.

“Is there a problem?” Wenona crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side condescendingly. Atticus huffed, standing tall in righteous indignation.

“Yeah, actually,” they placed one hand on their hip and gestured with the other, “There is a problem; with just about everyone in this room. I feel like I’m in a room of kindergarteners with the way you're all acting!” Some voices of protest piped up, but were quickly hushed as they continued.

“I mean, look at you all! Yes, it was wrong for Eva to deceive us the way she did. But so goddamn what if she’s called the Ultimate Mathlete? Who cares? I could've easily been called the… Ultimate Animal Guy! Any of us could've gotten silly sounding titles!” Atticus looked around at their peers, “Like the Ultimate Contrarian,” they pointed at Damon, “or the Ultimate Ball-Hitter,” at Grace, “or the Ultimate Note-Taker,” at Ulysses, “or whatever! What does it really matter what she’s called? She’s a math prodigy! She could probably take on equations that would make our heads spin without breaking a sweat! I may not always agree with her, but Eva and her talent are just as important as anyone else’s. You all need to grow up and show some decorum for once. We’re all Ultimates, it’s time to start fucking acting like it.”

They finally heaved a long breath, taking in the room. Some of the other students had promising looks on their faces, like they may have actually gotten through to their peers. Others looked to be mostly uncomfortable and unsure what to say to break the thick tension hanging over the room.

Atticus glanced over to Wolfgang, hoping to jumpstart verbal endorsement from him. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before he turned away, avoiding their gaze and looking ashamed beneath his typical veneer of stoic confidence. They felt their heart break for a moment, before promptly setting ablaze.

“Y’know what? Whatever. I don't really care what any of you do anyways,” they began a brisk walk to the exit, “I’m going to bed.”

~

Their plan to escape the group didn't pan out for as long as they had hoped. Desmond’s idea to check the dorm locks was helpful, they’d give him that, but feeling that violet stare– one that couldn't seem to bear seeing them just hours earlier– burning a hole in their head was a hell of a price to pay for precaution. Eventually they completely zoned out of the conversation, getting lost in the inane back-and-forth.

Until the topic of bunk buddies arose, that is. They finally returned his gaze at that. He quickly turned away the moment their eyes met. Of course.

As the others argued over the best method of choosing roomies, Atticus carefully sidestepped their peers. Being so close to him still made their cheeks burn, even if they were decidedly pissed, but letting nerves take over hadn't done them any good yet. They slapped the back of their hand against the pressed sleeve of his blazer.

“Hey,” they hissed, “Listen, I’m still pretty upset about earlier. But I feel safer with you than anyone else here. Could we–”

“Oi!” Grace nodded toward the pair, one hand on her hip and the other gesturing between them, “You two, what’s with all the whispering ‘n’ shit, eh? You got somethin’ to hide?”

Atticus wound up to retaliate. Before the words could even leave their mouth, Wolfgang held a protective arm in front of them.

“Ms. Madison,” he started, her name dripping with a sense of annoyance they had never heard him use toward her before, “I can assure you there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Mx. Figueroa merely sought my counsel alone; I believe they are well within their rights to do so.”

The golfer gaped, caught entirely off guard by his response. Straightening his tie, Wolfgang spoke once more, authoritative as ever, “We have agreed that sleeping in pairs will be our best method of protecting ourselves, have we not? Mx. Figueroa was merely facilitating the process independently. If they consider themself to be safest in the presence of one person in particular, it only makes sense that they seek that presence when they will be most vulnerable.”

Another slap met his arm, even less conspicuous and somehow even more forceful. He glanced only long enough to notice them pouting, flushed pink and avoiding eye contact. He merely linked elbows in retaliation. “Therefore, in order to expedite things, we have decided to share a dorm. Hopefully this will make further pairing simpler.”

“Will it ever,” Toshiko chirped, eyes sparkling behind her fan, “The strings of fate have already begun to weave a beautiful tapestry of young hearts… It's a sign, it is time I become love’s loom!” She struck a dramatic pose as Atticus tensed their arm, feeling like they could combust.

“Yep, cool, great! Well, we better get to bed. Night everybody–” They barely finished speaking before yanking Wolfgang into his dorm behind them. As soon as the door shut, they shook him off and burrowed their face in their sweater. Their new roommate straightened himself, chuckling lightly, “So, what was that about?” They grumbled into their sleeves.

“Shut up, alright? I haven't forgotten about this afternoon, y’know!”

“I know.” The humor dissipated from his voice, “And I’m sorry. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did for me to swallow my pride and stand firmly beside you. I figured standing up for you against Ms. Madison’s unfounded accusations could be the first step toward proving my faith in you. I can only hope to also earn your forgiveness along the way.”

Atticus was silent for a moment, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “Thank you, Wolfgang. Really, that means a lot to me.” They met his eyes for the first time since they entered the room. “Honestly, the thing that upset me the most was…” They huffed, seemingly embarrassed.

“What upset me most was the thought that maybe I had cost myself the most important friendship I’ve made here.” Once more they looked away, catching the worried furrow of his brow in their periphery, “I was so afraid that you would see me as a traitor for defending Eva like that. I didn't regret what I said– frankly, I still don't– but I couldn't help the shame I felt when something I said made you… refuse to even look at me.”

“Atticus,” he shook his head, carefully approaching their spot on the sofa, “Atticus, listen to me. I swear to you, I would never abandon you for standing up for someone in need. And I certainly wouldn't abandon you for merely speaking your mind; truly, I find it to be what you do best.”

They fiddled with the ends of their sleeves as he gingerly sat beside them, dipping his head slightly in order to see their face, “I should have never let my own… complicated relationship toward Ms. Tsunaka affect my judgment like that. You're far too important to me.” They couldn't stop the smile creeping up their face, muttering a small ‘thanks’.

“Besides,” he placed a hand atop theirs, “You were right. I had no reason to disagree, or to be petulant for that matter.”

“I was?”

“You were. Despite our status as Ultimates, we are collectively still quite young; some significantly more than others. We may be extraordinarily gifted, but we are adolescents all the same. It doesn't make the behavior right, but it certainly puts it into perspective: we as a group are still in a phase of maturing and overcoming juvenile behavior. Deception is, of course, cause for concern regardless of the context, but there is no excuse for treating our classmates as outsiders; especially for superficial reasons.”

Atticus sighed, rubbing their thumb against his, “At least someone actually listened to me.” Wolfgang smiled, giving their hand a gentle squeeze, “I always do. It is my job after all, being the Ultimate White Knight and all.”

They doubled over, snorting with laughter and startling him momentarily. Throwing their head back, they wiped the jovial tears forming with their free hand, “Oh my god, that’s fucking hysterical…” The slowly subsiding giggles got a second wind as they covered their face. “Were you saving that one all day?”

Wolfgang shrugged, the smirk making its way across his face hiding absolutely nothing, “Perhaps. I simply figured that if we were all getting improperly silly ultimate titles that I was no exception. We may not be the best of friends, per se, but if supporting the Ultimate ‘Animal Guy’ means standing in solidarity with the Ultimate Mathlete, then so be it. Flowery titles are overrated anyway.”

Atticus smiled and bumped shoulders with him, “Well said, white knight,” they chuckled, “So, what about everyone else, huh? Jean’s obviously the Ultimate Pirate now, right?”

“Unquestionably,” he laughed, “He would absolutely despise it if you said so to his face, but such is the way of Terrible Talent Titles.

They placed a hand to their chin. “Exactly, the Triple-T,” they used their best ‘sage wisdom’ voice, which promptly crumbled away as the both of them devolved into hastily hushed giggles.

The rest of the night was spent deciding the worst possible way to describe their classmates’ talents, good-natured jabs in every direction, and a symphony of laughter that left cheekbones sore and neighbors exasperated. Neither knew what new horror tomorrow might hold. But for the night, they were safe and they were happy.

For the night, they could simply be together.

[bleedingfromeveryorifice]

TITHING

But you are a compassionate

And gracious God,

And I, your humble lamb.

So when I turn 10 months old

And start to defy,

Take me to the slaughterhouse

And I will comply.

Let me be stunned and sticked

And let me bleed as a reminder of your tenderness.

Let all that you do to me

Be done in love.

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Chapter Update! Again!

Ship: Aurora Winn/Elias Leroux

Rating: M

Murder Time!!!!!

Total word count (so far): 5,162

The Slaughter

elias is mine, rory belongs to @thedeafprophet !

(about two chapters left!!!)

[xenonsdoodles]

POV you are a high achieving high school girl with nothing weird going on brainwise and you're writing a story for class that has no particular personal significance. you write about these guys. what will your future self say when he remembers it

[moe-broey]

Wbat if I drew the same exact picture over and over and over and over again. Would you be mad at me

[nerrels]

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

Thanks again @queenmuzz for ask! Sorry it took me forever to answer!

If sentences will sound weird, I’m not native speaker. So, that's it!

Virida Aldwir:

When Virida was 16, she was hunting with her adoptive elf father, Varalan. They were chasing some ill and/or aggressive animal. Varalan was also teaching his daughter the importance of being quick and confident with her decisions while hunting. If she has any hesitation, it could lead to more pain or worse and put someone in danger.

They separated to find this animal. While Virida was searching, she noticed an unknown thin and pale elven girl running away from someone. That “someone” was human man. Young qunari followed them. When man cornered elf girl on break, screaming at her, Virida focused and make a shot. Few seconds, man fell into river. She grabbed girl’s hand and run away, looking for her father. Together they make sure no one searching for them and got home.

Meanwhile, in safety in her home, Virida was shaken, but not upset about the kill. After all, when her parents were killed by slave traders, she could be in same position as this girl.

Nailynn Thorne:

Nailynn was 22, living her peaceful life with her clan. She never thought of harming others, even with her magic. Elf will be soon become new Keeper of her clan, after all, who will protect them from any danger. One day, when she, her girlfriend and another friend were searching for lost animals deep in the forest, trio found them blighted and next to them darkspawns. Leader of darkspawns seems like more intelligent than others. In a fight, injured Nailynn and Leader were last standing. Eventually, elf burned darkspawn, but was weak by blighted blood in her.

Hour later, Nailynn was found by two grey wardens. One of them was human and another elf from their clan. They were investigated strange darkspawns but lost their track. Wardens decide to take her and others to Warden’s post nearby and gave them a chance, at least.

After Joining ritual and finding out none of her friends survived, young mage was crushed and devastated. She wished they just run away.

Teighan Ingellvar:

Tei was 18 with their first living kill as fresh Mourn Watcher. They was patrolling, when suddenly dwarf heard screams in on of Necropolis’s halls. Coming there, Teighan saw robbers threatening young MW students. Young Mourn Watcher ask them to leave this place and return everything they stole. She gave them 3 warnings but thieves ignore them. After few swings of their maul, none of the robbers were alive. Even the ones who asked for mercy.

Despite of saving their lives, students were a little disturbed by Tei’s quite demeanor like they don’t just killed bunch of people few minutes later.

original post Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye! - link

[toads-treasures]

WIP Wednesday that absolutely no one asked for :)

I’m just noodlin around trying to figure out my own character, you know how it is. Anyway, this is literally just a snippet of me trying to write from her POV which has been a humbling experience.

Special thanks to @galaxycunt who coined this particularly delightful swear that I will be incorporating into my head and heart and also every fic from now on until I die.

[malachitezmeyka]

Apparently in 1862 Lev Tolstoy decided to quit writing and focus on his work of educating the poor, but in 1863 started working on Anna Karenina

With all my dislike for the man, never before have I related to a classical writer this much

(And for the record, War and Peace came AFTER Anna Karenina, in case you needed to know just how well he quit)

[mbat]

i like my men terribly wounded to the point of needing help or else they wont recover. but in a way that isnt weird

[spookyboywhump]

Ai-less Whumptober Day Two- Overworked/Exhaustion

I'm posting day two even if it is late, I enjoyed it hehe. Combined these two kinda cuz Zander is. Going through it. This one mentions @fairieboywhump's Cathal a little bit.

Fandom: Oc's/Original Work

Word Count: 1,676

CW: No violence or injuries but exhaustion, talk of unhealthy eating habits, in general unhealthy habits on Zander's part

***

Zander never knew when to stop. He didn’t know when to rest, when to take a break, when to grab something to eat. Resting felt like wasting time, he didn’t like to allow himself any free time, it just made him feel empty. He didn’t feel that way when he was working, even if he couldn’t work on Cathal’s case at the moment he could still work, he could still help people, as long as he was doing something, it was better than being alone with his thoughts. Besides, the extra pay from all the overtime he did certainly wouldn’t hurt him. 

 While the extra pay wouldn’t hurt him, his poor habits certainly would, they already were really, but it’s not like he was ready to admit that, even just to himself. He’d been denying it for so long that it took him by surprise when it finally hit him, as he walked down the hallway with Eli, he was talking but Zander could hardly hear him, unable to focus on anything. One moment he’d felt fine, they’d been having a normal conversation, and the next he couldn’t comprehend what he was saying, he felt like the building was swaying, sweat beaded on the back of his neck but at the same time he was hit with a sudden chill. Eli had noticed something was wrong, he was trying to question him but Zander couldn’t respond, he was shaking as he reached his arm out to the wall to find support, having to lean against it entirely. 

 “Zander? Zander, I need you to answer me.” He said slowly. He looked worried, but he stayed calm, looking over Zander in concern.

 “I-I don’t- I don’t feel good…” He finally managed to stammer out. His legs were shaking, he just wanted to sit down, he could hardly think clearly enough to even form a full sentence. There were dark spots in the corner of his vision and his heart was pounding in his chest, he hadn’t passed out in a long time but he was suddenly remembering just how scary it could be. 

 “Alright, it’s okay.” Eli said gently. “Here, let me help.” Zander allowed him to take his arm, doing his best to support him despite his much smaller size. He was able to quickly pull him into an empty conference room, helping him sit down in a chair at the table. Zander felt like he was going to be sick, he put his head in his hands and just tried to wait it out. 

 “Thank you- I’m sorry- I don’t- I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m sorry-”

 “It’s okay.” Eli told him again. “Stay here, try to catch your breath, I’ll be right back.” He said. Zander nodded, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself down as Eli left the room. Even though he was nearly shivering, he had to shrug his jacket off and roll his sleeves up, overwhelmed by everything happening at once. He put his head down on the table, he just wanted this all to stop. 

 He didn’t know how long he sat there, it felt like forever, but eventually Eli came back into the room and Zander sat up to face up, feeling so weak he wasn’t sure he could even keep his head up. Eli handed him a cold bottle of water and set some snacks from the vending machines down on the table, a bag of pretzels and his favorite candy bar. He hadn’t expected to get a treat for nearly passing out but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Eli encouraged him to eat, he watcehd over him worriedly like this would fix all his problems. Zander was almost irritated that it did start to make him feel better, just a little bit. It certainly didn’t cure him and restore him to perfect health, he felt like he’d been hit by a rough wave and was left exhausted and shaking, drained of all his energy, but he could think clearer now. 

 “Is that helping…?” Eli finally asked him, he’d been watching him like he was worried he’d fall unconscious at any second, the way he used to hover over him when he’d suffered a serious injury. 

 “I guess…” He shrugged. “I don’t… I don’t feel as bad, yeah…” 

 “Alright, I’m glad.” Eli sighed. “Zander, please, you’re overworking yourself, I really think you need a break.”

 “Eli, I swear, I’m fine-”

 “You’re not fine.” Eli said bluntly, shutting him down completely. He realized he was struggling to keep himself calm, to keep from lashing out completely. His hands were shaking, but Zander tried not to stare. He could hardly look at Elias directly, so frustrated with himself and the situation it was difficult to really face him. “You can’t keep treating yourself like this. I’m tired, and I can see that obviously, you are too.”

 “Fine, fine, I-I’ll go home and get some sleep, okay?” He said, trying to placate him. 

 “No! I’m- I’m not letting you go back to that apartment, I’m not just leaving you alone!” He insisted. “You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, you aren’t taking care of yourself at all! The last time I went over there it was a fucking wreck, and normally I wouldn’t give a shit but that- that’s not like you, something is wrong.” 

 “It’s really not that bad…” He said, trying to calm him down, but he knew Eli was right. He’d been having awful, recurring nightmares that kept him awake, he was hardly motivated to clean up properly or feed himself, nothing outside of work mattered to him. Every second he spent at home just made him more aware that something was missing, he was so lonely and he knew he couldn’t fill that void easily. “I’ll make sure I eat when I get home, and I’ll get some sleep, okay? I’ll even take tomorrow off if that would make you happy.”

 “What would make me happy is if you would just let any of us help you.” Eli told him. “You don’t have to do any of this alone, we’re trying to help. You’ll be taking a few days off, and you won’t be going back to your apartment, not right away.” He said it like it was already decided.

 “What? Eli, that’s not- I can’t just-”

 “I already talked to our manager and she agrees, you need some time off. I know you want to be here and you want to be working but, there isn’t much you can do if you’re hardly even coherent. You’ve been overworking yourself and then driving yourself crazy when you’re alone and it’s- it’s just not good for you!” He told him.

 “Then what else am I supposed to do?! That’s where I live, if I’m taking a few days off- which I still don’t agree with, by the way- then at least I should be there to straighten things up, right?”

 “No, I’m not leaving you alone.” He insisted again. “I… I asked your mom to come and get you, while I was out. I think you need to go home for a while, it would be good for you to see them.”

 “You called my fucking mom on me?” He asked him, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m not a fucking child, I don’t need you to go and tell my parents whenever I act up!” He snapped. 

 “I’m not trying to get you in trouble, I’m trying to help.” He told him. “You need it, just, trust me, please? It sounded like they really missed you anyways, they’ll be happy to see you.”

 “They’re my moms, of course they’ll be happy to see me.” He said, rolling his eyes. Eli looked irritated, but he was doing his best to not get upset with him, and Zander just kept pushing him, almost like he was testing to see when he’d finally snap.

 “Zander, we want to help you, we just… you need to accept it.” He insisted. 

 “You keep saying that but this doesn’t fucking help!” He snapped. “I don’t feel any better, I just feel more stressed, what am I supposed to do while I’m gone?!”

 “You’re supposed to take care of yourself. Get some sleep, try to eat more, do something that makes you fucking happy and you might feel better when you come back!” Eli told him. “You are not working alone, I don’t know why you don’t get that. You know we’re still working too, right? Do you trust us?”

 “Of course I do!”

 “Then go the fuck home, go to bed, and let us do the work!” He told him. “I promise, I will call you if it is absolutely necessary, I won’t keep anything from you, but you need some time off, whether you want it or not. You’ll feel better at the end of it, okay?” Zander hesitated, he really didn’t want to give in but at the same time, he knew there was no winning against Eli in this argument. He could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be, and Zander felt like if he kept pushing him he’d either start crying or he’d start screaming at him, maybe both, so he didn’t have much of a choice.

 “Alright.” He sighed. “Fine, I’ll go home, I’ll take a few days off, okay?” He told him. Eli relaxed immediately, like he finally let out a breath he’d been holding this whole time. 

 ”Thank you.” He threw his arms around him, leaning down to hug him tightly around his neck. “I know you want to help, I know how much you care, but… I care about you. We’ll do the hard work for you these next few days, okay? You don’t need to worry.” He assured him. 

 Zander hugged him back, and despite his uncertainty, he felt himself relax. He knew he didn’t have to worry about them, he did trust them, what he didn’t trust was himself to remain calm when the entire situation made him feel absolutely helpless. 

[maxdurden]

Following the pendant's small arm, Erastos began to feel worried. It had not moved in what felt like a very long time. That was, of course, no guarantee that any time had passed at all. This worried him more, and he shook the small device where it hung around his neck. The delicate iron pin stayed stubbornly in place.

Trees began to thin. It was a relief to be able to see further than a few feet in front of him. But the sight that awaited when he broke through the forest border stopped him dead in his tracks.

Glittering blue water stretched away from him for miles. The wooded bank ran for some distance, weaving behind itself and giving way to a horizon of blue.

Erastos slowly lowered himself to the ground near the edge of the water. Dense forest stubbornly gave way to the lake here, leaving no room for a proper beach. Water lilies dotted the serene blue water, and some kind of long-stalked grass that appeared to swish about of its own accord grew out of the mud in bunches.

"Is that it then?" He yelled to those he could not see, but knew were watching. "You want me to swim the rest of the way? Or else fly?" He threw his hands into the air in a petulant display, and a premature feeling of defeat settled over him.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, as a pure white steed rose from behind the strange, long grass. Erastos worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. The Fey were not so forthright. Things were never this easy.

The horse whinnied and tossed its head, and a gleaming, almost translucent mane streamed behind it. Like so many things in Faerie, it was eerily perfect. The animal paced jauntily in a lazy circle, right off the bank and across the water as if still on solid ground.

Erastos wondered if Seurri had somehow found a way to send help. Cautiously, he approached with his hand outstretched. The horse eagerly pushed its papery soft muzzle against his palm.

"Do you know the way to the Unseelie Court?" He asked.

So far on his journey, he had talked to trees and stones. There was no reason to think the horse couldn't speak.

The horse only nickered, stamping an impatient hoof into the mud.

Erastos huffed out a tired approximation of a laugh and ran his hand gently over the beast's muzzle. It seemed gentle enough, and he couldn't have asked for a better solution to his problem. This all made him nervous, just as it made his next move obvious.

"A horse that walks on water..." He shook his head, running his hand down the soft fur on its thick neck. "Funny that you have horses here at all." He said, taking a quick half-step before swinging his leg upward.

Erastos had only ridden a horse once before. His mounting was awkward and graceless, and he could only think of the Seelie Court watching and tittering in amusement. Horses were native to Menaea, but no such creature walked the rocky, mountainous surface of Quoah. It seemed weird, then, that horses also lived on Faerie. Perhaps Menaeans had brought the animal over at one point or another—But the thought nagged at him regardless as he found his balance. He held onto the mane as gently as he could, but leaned low against its wide back for fear of falling off into the water.

The horse didn't seem to mind his anxious nature. It pranced in a circle again, as if to encourage its rider, before taking the first step onto the water. The hooves skimmed the surface of the water without breaking through it, as they had before.

The horse kept a slow pace as they walked further from the bank and, slowly, Erastos relaxed. He sat up a bit straighter, bending over only to peer at the clear, blue water underneath him. Fish swam lazily below, apparently unaware of the large, usually land-bound animal walking overhead.

Suddenly, the steed reared backwards, as if alarmed by something. Erastos scrambled to tighten his grip, but found that his lack of dexterity had little consequence—even as his mount kicked up to a perilous angle, he could not untangle his hands from its mane nor would his thighs move from their position against its flank.

Its front hooves came down onto the water with considerable force, and Erastos felt his stomach leap up to his throat as they broke cleanly through the water. As he watched the surface start to overtake the steed, rushing up to meet him, he only had time to gasp out an expletive before being plunged into the icy depths.

He was quick to regret wasting his breath as he tried desperately to pull his hands free. The horse pulled him steadily deeper, with a proficiency in swimming he had not been aware horses possessed.

It was hard to clear his mind, between the oxygen deprivation and panic, but it was a matter of survival. There was no magical recourse—he could not move his hands, and could not speak underwater. He was going to die.

He remembered the pendant around his neck, a gift from Seurri and guided by a small pin made of iron. It was barely any metal at all, but concentrated enough that it had burned Seurri when she touched it.

His lungs ached as he hugged the creature underneath him closer, pressing his chest into its back and hoping—praying to any god that would take pity on a faithless man—that the iron pin would make contact.

A noise like a steaming kettle pierced his ears and, with a jolt, Erastos felt his hands come free. He kicked his legs instinctually, and they moved unmoored from the creature's back. A small eternity stretched before him, and his vision swam and darkened before he broke through the lake's surface. He clawed wildly at the water, keeping his head bobbing above it as he wretched uselessly. The dull thought it could come back kept him moving, even if ineptly, toward the shore.

His swimming was frantic, but he managed to move himself to where his feet could find purchase in the mud. He stumbled clumsily, light headed and with his chest spasming, to the bank and collapsed. His body convulsed of its own accord. If it were left up to his own will, he would have laid in wait for the water in his lungs to finish him. Instead, it came painfully up through his throat and nose, leaving both with a stinging sensation he couldn't fully appreciate as his consciousness flagged.

—

Awareness returned to Erastos sluggishly. Something moved about him, but any possible urgency felt distant and vague. Darkness still ate at the edges of his vision as he blinked up toward the sky, which was almost entirely obscured by leaves.

Something was not moving around him. He was moving. His brain slowly pieced together the feeling of small hands around his wrists, and the ground dragging against his back. Despite the way his body protested, he pulled his arms back toward him and attempted to sit up.

Unlike the not-horse, these hands let him go easily. His vision spun as he turned to look at the creatures that had been pulling him along the forest floor. The two of them stared back with wide black eyes. They were small, standing a few inches shorter than Erastos even as he sat on the ground, and hairless. The only feature that distinguished them—at least to Erastos’ foggy mind—was that one wore a yellow cap and the other wore green under which their long, pointed ears bowed. Both were outfitted in brown worker's clothes otherwise, all of which appeared to be made of either leather or some fabric that resembled burlap.

“What are you?” His voice grated against his throat and came out like a rattle. His chest seized briefly, as if still trying to expel water that was no longer there.

The creatures blinked slowly at him, then looked to each other. Surely, if rocks and trees could talk—but not not-horses—then so could these tiny men.

“What are we?” The first, in the yellow cap, echoed. His voice was nasally and high pitched, but suited him well.

“How rude!” The second exclaimed.

“We don't ask it what it is!” The first seemed to agree.

“Looks like a Sylph.” The second observed.

“But it isn't.”

“And yet, we don't ask.” The second nodded, as if punctuating the strange little exchange, and both turned back to consider Erastos.