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greenninjagal-blog · 1 year ago

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Here Comes the Sun (pt5)

Contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally still write apparently. Can you believe it? Anyway! If you want a refresher on what’s been going on [click right here] or if you want to read from the beginning [click right here]!

Summary: After the second worst day of his life, Virgil wakes up and goes to find out where his best friend and the guy he tried to kidnap ended up. For some reason all of this feels like the calm before a storm.

Words: 15469 (ask me why its taken forever to get this one out)

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @iceshard1011

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Chapter Five: Flood Warning

The Rules had been a mostly drunk joke between them. It had happened a few weeks into them travelling together: they had come to stupid little town in the middle of nowhere and all the people were hateful to them even after Remus had taken care of their Vulcan infestation and returned both a kidnapped teenage girl and an older guy that had gotten taken host by the creatures Take Over Magic to the village.

Remus had threatened to destroy a few of their buildings and that at least had sent most of them scurrying for cover in their own houses with the thunder warning them to not come back out. The bar owner in particular had been a nasty fellow, so Remus and Virgil unanimously agreed that they would raid his place, get drunk, and then skip town before the Magic council was called on them or an actually sanctioned guild showed.

That was the night that Remus had told him Everyone Leaves.

And Virgil had responded with What if I didn’t? Because he’d been drunk and an idiot and Remus was the safest place he had ever known.

“We need a set of rules,” Virgil had said, washing himself over the counter, nearly placing his face into the interesting patterned wood grooves.

“I like breaking rules,” Remus had said, draining the last of his barrel of wine. Virgil had laughed at his face when he tossed the empty barrel to the side, woozy at the idea of how his liver was still functioning. He had been so glad that he hadn’t taken Remus up on that drinking bet earlier.

“No,” Virgil said. “No, I mean like… our rules. Rules for us. We make them and keep them and stuff.”

“Sounds boring, Virgie.”

“Your face sounds boring.”

Remus grinned with all his teeth on display and Virgil had flicked wine-flavored water at him because his clothes had just started drying out from the fight and that was illegal or something.

“You pick the first one,” Virgil said. “I’ll make the second.”

“Hmmmmm,” Remus leaned back on the bar stool so far Virgil thought he’d fall. He thought about lunging to catch him if he did fall, but the world was pleasantly swimming and Virgil figured if he stood up he’d condense himself into a puddle and forget how to turn back to a human.

“Rule Number One!” Remus said. “No Killing Each Other!”

“You couldn’t kill me even if you tried,” Virgil said. “Fine. Rule Number Two! No Killing Anyone Else!”

Very Sensible. Killing people would get them arrested and stuff. Remus was laughing at him, but it didn’t sound mean. Remus was never really mean to Virgil.

“Rule Three! No Talking About Shit The Other Doesn’t Like!” Remus says. “No askin ‘bout my brother, no forcing you to talk about your parents, nothing about from before we met unless we wanna. And other things too, if we think of ‘em.”

Virgil nodded along with it, nearly sliding off the bar counter.

“Rule Four! Never Go Where the Other Can’t Follow!”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

A great one actually. He’d been so fucking proud of it; everyone leaves, but not Virgil. Everyone gets tired of the rain, but not Remus.

He wouldn’t need anyone to actually love him; if they both just followed the rules and pretended like it, one day Virgil might be able to trick himself into believing it and that stormcloud over his head would go away.

***

Virgil wakes up in cold water, his human form diluted off and the bottom of the basin covered in mud and minerals. He’s decently surprised: both him and Remus must have been in bad enough moods that Remus didn’t even attempt to come in here and unplug the drain and send him sloshing out of the pipes for shits and giggles.

It doesn't bode well. There’s a distinct difference between The Lack of Remus (curious, entertaining, possibly amusing) and The Lack of Remus (VERY FUCKING BAD). Virgil likes to think that he’s familiar enough with his best friend and their whole situation to know which one this is, not that it takes more than a few seconds of struggling to form a thought to also remember the previous… everything.

Virgil's head is still throbbing with the tell tale feeling of a headache even before he manages to convince the water that makes up his body to come back together to form his head. Honestly, he's beginning to think that Logan's "Evil Orb" attack hurt him a lot more than previously suggested-- which considering that Virgil’s pain index is on another scale entirely... well it certainly says something about that fight. Pure magic attacks always were finicky when interacting with him: whatever elements made up "evil" probably dissolved into water really well.

Virgil chose not to even consider if Logan knew or didn’t know about that. Targeted attack or not, the fact was that Virgil was feeling the aftereffects of it and wasn’t a fan and it was impeding his ability to go find Remus and….

And do something.

What a pain.

Instead he draws his form back together, careful to keep the minerals and mud off his form as he painstakingly adds drop by drop into himself. A leg, an arm, ten fingers, ten toes, mouth, eyes, nose, heart-- He focuses for a moment on the poison, prodding it to see if he might be able to convince it to drop into the mud as well, but in the end he backs off. Much better to be alive with the curse on him, than have whatever's left of his body discovered by Remus whenever he decides to come looking because the sun appeared in the sky and…. Did whatever the sun does.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for his clothes to form again after he has most of the standard human look back in the right order; the black material traces the edges of his preferred form, wrapping around his limbs to secure the shapes of each so he didn’t have to waste 90% of his focus on remembering to keep the heights of his kneecaps the same so he could walk. It had been a pain to get it made and it had cost a fortune, which had made the other kids at the orphanage upset-- something about it not being fair that Virgil got new clothes when they didn’t just because he was a freak-- and the orphanage leader had picked out the color herself without his input, citing that black went with everything.

It had been his one gift throughout the years.

Virgil had thought about picking up a ColorS just to change the color of it, but the devices were never programmed with a shade of purple that he liked (too dark, too red, too pink…). He’d have much better luck reaching out to the developer in Clover City and with a swatch of the color he wanted and just paying for a second suit.

But like. Money.

His head pounds. It’s too early to be thinking about money problems. Or any problems. Or just… thinking in general.

Light streams in from the windows, a hazy gray that's accompanied by a light sprinkle, that feels more like being sprayed with a squirt gun than actual rain. Virgil watches it start to get harder as his body and brain wakes back up more and more. An inverse relationship: the more Virgil is awake, the further away the mythical sun is from sight.

The good news is that it’s day again. The bad news is he’s not sure what day.

His leftover pocket materials are still where he left them on the floor, along with a tipped over bottle of soap he doesn’t remember dropping anymore than he remembers not dropping. It doesn’t seem like Remus had been in here; nothing’s too out of place from what he remembers. But that also doesn’t mean shit: Remus sometimes went whole weeks without proper hygiene because he just didn’t care enough, until Virgil physically forced him to take care of his body before he killed someone from the stench alone.

((Remus, of course, had thought that was an excellent attack ability to add to his repertoire. Virgil had strictly vetoed it by drenching him with water every three hours until he promised to take his own showers.))

Virgil shifts around slightly, testing tentatively his weight on his legs again, as he gathers up what was left of his supplies. The paper money hadn’t been touched-- still the same measly amount that he’d brought on his adventure yesterday that had come right out of his savings-- the multitool he spends a few seconds checking the springs and hinges to see if the rain or mud had gotten to it. He crumples up the map of Magnolia and specifically that nice little townhouse in the hope that maybe ruining the picture would ruin the memory too.

But then he shifts too far and the minimal lighting catches on a bit of silver on the sink counter.

Out of all the things, the spoons look the most sadly pathetic and out of place in their bathroom. Virgil’s hands hesitate before he picks one up, the pad of his thumb tracing over the simple pattern on them. He tries to imagine the faces of those Star Burst members when they realized that Virgil had made off with their spoons.

Daydream-Logan is endlessly baffled by it, theorizing on the hundreds of things that Virgil might have needed spoons for in the middle of a kidnapping, going as far as to wonder if the kidnapping was a cover up for the theft, and daydream- Roman is fuming throwing out insults that daydream- Patton tells him aren’t nice, to which there’s the snapped reply that Virgil isn’t nice. It’s amusing right up until daydream-Envy and daydream-Malice burst in through the windows and destroy the entire daydream-apartment and kill daydream-Roman and daydream- Logan and kidnap a still crying daydream-Patton.

He shoves the spoons into his pockets with a clatter; It’s too early to be thinking about that, too.

He creeps out of the bathroom, but doesn’t mean much. Remus isn't in the room and there’s no sign that he had been there for a while. His bed is untouched from where Virgil remembered him lounging yesterday when he’d come back, the hilt of that sword he’d been snacking on was still tossed carelessly by the door, Remus’s boots and his leather jacket were gone from the sad pile of dirty laundry Remus liked to keep in the corner to scare Virgil at 2am.

Virgil's stomach twists at the memory of his face last night: both his dragon force coming out and the idea that he'd rather not talk about one day escaping than risk hoping for it before finishing with the final blow of the casual, painful way he had implied that Thomas Sanders would never want him.

Normally they would pretend it never happened; Remus would make a clever insulting remark about Virgil's generally terrible deposition and Virgil would snark back something about stupid looking outfits and ride along with the conversation from there because it was as close as either of them could get to apologies without breaking into hives. If it was super bad, there would be food based bribery involved.

It's not like Remus to run away first.

Which means something bad is going on and Virgil slept through Act I of it.

His poncho is hanging over the heater, dried and cleaned from the mud that had been on it yesterday-- he checks the clock by his bed, and yep, it’s been nearly twelve hours. Remus must have really felt bad if he went ahead and washed it himself even though Virgil has other ponchos he can wear, and Remus doesn’t even know what a washing machine is.

Well. Virgil isn’t going to make a man grovel.

He grabs it off the hanger and slips it on relishing in the buzzing feeling he calls warmth, as close to a hug from Remus as he’ll get for now. It smells like Vanilla, aka Virgil’s personally preferred detergent that Remus doesn’t even like, much less keep in stock.

Oh.

Oh, he really felt bad.

Virgil feels bad for how much Remus feels bad about this. Honestly it wasn’t even like Remus was wrong. Virgil had been overreacting and acting like a brat; Remus had just revealed that his entire childhood had been wiped out by murderers who got away with it and his brother was alive and fine and apparently never really considered that Remus might have survived at all and all Virgil could think about is that he was sad that the greatest good mage in the world wouldn’t like him after he kidnapped and nearly drowned three of the man’s guild members.

It’s so stupid. He owes Remus an apology, and he’s not sure spoons are enough for it.

He wrings his hands through his poncho and promises himself that he’ll buy Remus some like rusted tire irons or something next time he’s able to. Remus liked rusted things from what Virgil remembered; it added flavor or texture or something to the metal that he liked to gnaw. Sometimes if Virgil brought him back a big enough metal item, he’d turn it into something else like mini statues that fit in the palm of Virgil’s hand with remarkable details down to the folds in the fabrics that left Virgil particularly confused about where he learned to do that and why are these so well made?

((Remus’s answer always is just a grin and him asking if Virgil wants to find out what else his tongue is good at.))

He laces his shoes, hanks up his hood, and takes a deep breath.

The door was still damaged from last night; in fact it’s in a worse shape now, considering it looked like Remus forwent trying to keep the hinges intact. There’s a solid inch gap between the wall and the door now and two noticeable boot sized prints in the poor metal door. Honestly, Virgil is a little surprised the noise of Remus leaving hadn’t woken the dead back up, much less woken up Virgil from his nice little coma-nap.

Virgil tries not to think too hard about it all. He dodges through the gap and reforms on the other side of the door, stretching out his watery form and testing his control as he walks towards the common areas.

As much as Virgil hates the idea…if Remus is answering a call from Guildmaster Clay, then Virgil should probably position himself somewhere to find out where Remus was. It wasn’t often that Clay went to the trouble of separating them: the fact that Virgil stayed instead of running that first night, the fact that Virgil had gone a one on one with Greed for Remus’s contract, the fact that Virgil and Remus had did everything together had alerted even the Guildmaster to the idea that they worked better together than apart.

((Honestly, it was really the fact that Clay separated them for this that spelled Virgil’s own loss against Roman, Patton, and Logan. If Remus had been there…. Well it wouldn’t have been quiet, but it sure as hell would have been quick and successful.

Together they could get anything done. And if Virgil was ever in the mood for a terrible, agonizing death, he’d even tell that to the Guildmaster himself.))

For most of Remus’s missions and jobs it was understood that Virgil would be right along next to him, lurking like a shadow, covering all his blindspots. It wasn’t like anyone else the Guildmaster sent to supervise Remus would do it. As such, Virgil’s place was generally beside Remus. If he wasn’t there it was because he was given orders to do something else and it was better to stay out of his way until he got it done.

But Virgil highly doubted that the Guildmaster would be even remotely pleased to see Virgil’s face. At best he’d be interrupting a plan, at worst Virgil would be inviting his own murder to happen and Remus would live on thinking forever that Virgil was upset at him. So that’s a no.

It was likely that by now Malice and Envy were back. They were always generally in decent moods if Virgil entertained their need to boast about how they won their battles, and probably wouldn’t be against sending Virgil towards Remus (most likely with a jovial threat to deliver like Virgil is Remus’s errand boy). But Virgil didn’t know if he could stomach listening politely to whatever Malice did to Logan--embellished or not-- and he definitely wouldn’t be able to keep cool with Envy started showing off her crystals of concentrated Dragon Slayer Magic she pulled out of Roman before he could even manifest a candle light. So no to both of them.

Pride wasn’t the type of person that Virgil trusted himself to be around. If Virgil moved too fast he could still feel the buzz of electricity coursing through him, boiling him inside and without someone to tell him that Virgil was necessary for whatever grand big plan, Pride wouldn’t bother stopping an attempt to kill him.

That leaves…. Greed.

Well. The bright side is at least Virgil always knows where Greed likes to lurk.

***

Virgil hears the raspy wet coughing laugh long before he actually sees Greed.

The script mage looks unextraordinary compared to other members of the guild: he has none of the flashy bejeweled outfits that Envy likes to flaunt around to make people look and remember, none of Malice’s warped scars that speak of how little he cares about keeping his enemies in one piece, and none of Pride’s pretentious, precocious aura which maintains a fifteen foot radius of personal space around him at all times. What Greed does have is a gnarled spine that causes him to slump over nearly half his height and walk with a cane, and a long overcoat riddled with age and which trails after him by nearly a whole foot, making him appear like just another old man who is still in denial that his prime had long passed. His skin is graying out, spotted in strange places, and clinging to his bones so loosely that Virgil always gets the impression that the flabs are seconds away from dripping right off him. His hair had been white and wispy since before the founding of the Magic Council and very clearly it hasn’t gotten any more flushed. He squints very hard when he first meets someone new as if he can’t see them all that well, and can hear them even less well.

He looks like a man who is desperately alone, desperately sad without grandchildren to take care of him; a man whom the gracious guildmaster had offered to take into his business to give him a bit of purpose in what remained of his sad, lonely life.

That had been Virgil’s first impression of him (back when he and Remus were eighteen and giddy with disbelief that a guild might actually want them) and he still gets furious with his younger self for having felt pity for the guy who looked like a stiff breeze might have knocked him over directly into a grave.

“Still alive, are you?” The man croaks out, part of a cough wet and raspy and Virgil finds himself wishing that it would develop into an incurable disease already. “The guildmaster is going soft in his old age. In my day, your kind wouldn’t have made it back from your first job, much less survived long enough to screw up as much as you do.”

“Do you practice these lines in the mirror?” Virgil asks, doing his best to keep his hands out of sight in his poncho lest Greed see how much he’s actually shaking. “Or does being an asshole that no one likes just something you know how to do naturally?”

The man wallows out a wet laugh again, leaning on his cane and showing off his yellowed teeth. “Careful, Boy. You better be sure this guild won’t miss you before you start throwing around challenges like that.”

Virgil’s decently sure that no one would miss Greed too terribly much either. Vastly over assuming his value to the Guildmaster is a hobby that Virgil thinks the man would enjoy. Right along with trapping teenagers in unbreakable contracts and haunting a library of tomes detailing forgotten magics he didn’t think anyone else was worthy of even looking at. Virgil managed to sneak into the library only once, searching for Remus’s contract that Greed kept behind layers and layers of traps, but in the end the thing that had fucked him the most was Guildmaster Clay putting a hand on Virgil’s collarbone and saying “You know better than to try that again now, don’t you? You can keep this as a reminder, Virgil.”

Virgil shakes off the memory, pretending like he doesn’t notice the rain rapping against the windows in a very telling way. Based on Greed’s gurgle, it doesn’t get past him either.

“Do you know where Remus is?” Virgil grinds out.

“Yes.”

Virgil waits for more and the man continues with his uneven pace right by Virgil as if he hadn’t said anything at all. For a moment Virgil considers throwing the full force of his Water Cane at his hobbling weak form and seeing if the ancient protection runes magic carved into his limbs under his cloak could protect him from being torn apart at point blank range.

((Of course if it had been that easy, Remus never would have been stuck here in the first place.))

“Where,” Virgil says, between his teeth, “can I find Remus?”

“One day you aren’t going to be able to keep mooching off that boy,” Greed spits. “Although I supposed that’s the only way your kind survives in these ages, isn’t it? Those damned Magic Counsel fools writing those laws declaring you creatures humans, making it a crime to send you back to the elements you came from! If it were up to me--”

“We don’t have to do the whole song and dance every time--”

”--You hover over that boy’s shoulder, taking credit for the good work he does for the guildmaster, siphoning off his potential, and pitifully whining at the guildmaster until he gives you another chance, just to disappoint--”

“Will you just tell me!” Virgil says.

“--mannerless, talentless--”

“Why did I even bother!” Virgil hisses out. Thunder rumbles outside the castle, and Virgil spins on his heel away from that asshole of an old man, mentally hoping that the guy drops dead in an hour or two. He supposes it's also thoughts like that, that would make him a terrible Star Burst mage.

“It’s your fault!” Greed adds. “That Malice and Envy ended up getting as hurt as they did! Those damn brats were supposed to be your problem but then you went and screwed that up and now both of them are in the infirmary--”

Virgil freezes. “What?”

Because it sounds like Greed is saying that Malice and Envy lost. He makes it sound like Roman and Patton and Logan managed to fend off two of Shadow Force with less than no warning and no real powers thanks to Envy’s magic. He makes it sound like the Star Burst’s Mages were still alive and that Virgil failing his task hadn’t signed their death warrants.

“Wipe that look off your face, Boy,” Greed says. “They still completed the mission you should have done, you useless, waste of--”

“Greed.”

The old man stops immediately in what he’s saying, but Virgil knows better than to be relieved at that. From the shadows (like an asshole with too much time on his hands), Pride strolls out, eyes narrowed and unimpressed with the situation. The air seems to tense around them, charged with electricity that triggers all of Virgil’s fight-or-flight instincts and the scent of burning flesh wafts between all three of them for a second.

“The Guildmaster requests your presence, Greed,” Pride says, with a sneer that speaks to volumes about how Pride feels about being used as a messenger, when he’s… well, Pride. Lightning flickers over his shoulder, tastefully suggesting all the terrible things he could do with it and Virgil and a dark hallway that everyone avoids.

Greed humphs, shifting his grip on his walking stick. He turns away from Virgil, cloak trailing after him like a snake and Virgil considers stepping on it and watching the man choke and fall over. Pride, however, is watching him, and Virgil knows better than to move without permission.

The rain batters the windows, distant lightning briefly illuminating the sky to the rhythm of Virgil’s heartbeat. It’s a long moment, where Virgil balances on the precipice of throwing himself through the floorboards and hoping he can make it to the room underneath them without too much trouble before Pride decides to eliminate him entirely for his own entertainment.

It wouldn’t take much. Barely a twitch of Pride’s fingers, and Virgil is fast but even he’s not faster than light. The energy would hum in his body, stiffening his limbs until he turned into a doll and then Pride could simply tilt his head and send all that racing towards that poison in Virgil’s chest. Virgil would feel the excruciating pain, maybe even get a chance to scream before he exploded into thousands of droplets of watered down poison and his consciousness had nothing to cling to at all.

Remus would know he was gone by the way that sun glittered on the dew drops, by the way that he realizes that he hasn’t heard the sound of rain in a while, by the way he turns around and there’s no annoying rain witch standing in his blind spot like a shadow he can’t get rid of--

“Remus is downstairs in the cellars,” Pride says. “Go.”

And then he turns away heading back down the halls as if the interaction had never happened and Virgil wasn’t worth his time and Virgil hadn’t been certain that his own death was about to occur.

Virgil pretends the tremble in his hands is from the rush of knowing where to find Remus.

***

Honestly, Virgil isn’t sure the cellars in Chimera Tongue’s castle-shaped Guildhall had a truly thought out purpose. They were nearly always damp and cold due to the fact that Virgil keeps the entire region decently flooded and miserable with his storm, and the fact that the stones used to build the castle and its foundations were about as good at insulation as Virgil was at turning off his storm.

Thus, guild members don’t tend to like going into them very often. The cellars hadn’t housed alcohol since before Virgil had first arrived, and he highly doubted that it would after Virgil’s mysteriously unimportant disappearance and other than having empty cavernous rooms with little light, there weren’t any upsides to going down there.

Remus and Virgil had been together a few times, looking for a place to spar when they weren’t on a job and didn’t want to deal with other people. But as their ability to read each other had grown, the need for space to utilize more moves or create new ones had also grown, and Remus had gotten a taste for kicking people out of the way when he wanted to use a space in the upstairs gym areas.

Virgil skips using the doors to check which of the cellars Remus is in. It’s far easier to borrow the pipes and slip through the unsealed cracks in the walls without having to worry about anyone else asking what he’s doing wandering around in the dark and possibly doing something about it.

And well…Virgil doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he’s also not going to tempt fate into making him a believer by just… waltzing around in a possibly haunted basement. Of all places to be haunted, Chimera Tongue’s Guildhall would surprise Virgil the least.

The first two cellars are empty, without dust even being remotely disturbed. It’s quiet as a tomb in all of them, and Virgil is about to suspect that Pride sent him on a wild goblin chase when he plops into the third and finds it surprisingly halfway full of people loitering around like it was a funeral wake.

Bewildered, Virgil shifts back into his human form, settling on a support beam over their heads encased in shadows that make the prospects of spiders clinging increase tenfold. All at once dozens of more human senses come back: the murky scent of perpetually wet earth, the faint taste of rain and a distinct lack of any type of tingling that might suggest warmth. If Virgil was a creature that actually breathed in the sense of taking in oxygen from the air and pushing it back out, he would have expected his breath to condense as he searched through the heads of guild members for Remus.

It’s not even remotely hard to find him.

Remus is wearing mostly black today, with green accents and silver chains whose ringing are the only noise this far beneath the castle. The cut of his shirt is jagged and harsh and leaves enough skin showing for his guildmark to be on full display to everyone even with his leather jacket on, which Virgil knows Remus hates people being able to see. He’s sitting on a long forgotten and abandoned table, one foot up on the flat surface, next to a brown paper bag that seems to have been untouched for a while. He’s looking bored out of his mind and angry about it as he swings his free foot back and forth and causes the slight tingtingting of his metal laced laces to make contact with one another.

At each cling the entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting to see if Remus is going to pounce on the nearest person and start giving them free dental work to solve the apparent lack of entertainment.

Nearby Remus, just out of reach, is a smaller form sitting against the side of the table curled into a ball and slightly shaking. It takes Virgil far too long to recognize him.

Patton doesn’t look good, not that Virgil expected him to. He was familiar enough with Malice and Envy’s particularly sadistic form of hospitality to be surprised that Patton has all of his fingers.

From his vantage point above, he’s able to see that Patton is covered in bumps and bruises so dense that Virgil can’t tell where one starts and others ends. There’s a shallow scrape along his cheek, something too deliberate to have been a battle accident: Virgil has a sneaking suspicion that if he got close enough he’d be able to see what freckles Malice was playing dot-to-dot with on Patton’s face.

His arms are bound at the wrists with coarse rope behind his back, tight enough to leave uncomfortable marks digging into his skin every time he twitches. He is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, and although his ankles weren’t tied, his head is bent in a way that suggests he realized that running wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Virgil can make out the cracks in his glasses where some not-so-gentle force had been applied in order to get him from his safe and cozy Star Burst home to their damp and dark and miserable castle.

It seems like Malice and Envy didn’t give Patton a chance to activate one of his tracking cards.

Or simply, there was no one to come for him anymore. Like a phone call that will never be answered.

Virgil wonders if Remus had realized that Roman might be dead, or if he cared at all. He isn’t sure how he himself felt other than very super awfully terribly bad.

He didn’t like Roman, and didn’t like him even more after knowing that he chose himself over Remus, chose Patton over Remus, chose and acted like Remus should have still been grateful to call him “brother”, but part of him thought about the pure grief in Remus’s body, about all the words that Remus deserved a chance to say to Roman, about how closure was a lot harder to get when you wanted it from ghosts.

Also he kinda liked Logan-- annoyance about his assumption that Virgil didn’t try to control his power aside. He was intimidating and strange in the same way that Remus was intimidating and strange, even if his intimidation came from being far smarter than Virgil, where as Remus’s was from being far stronger and a lot more insane at times.

There are a few other guys around, none that Virgil recognizes enough by name. He thinks he saw one of them use gun magic once, and another picto magic, but honestly…they're grunts. The guildmaster probably doesn't even know their faces and he probably would toss them into a losing battle as fodder for fun.

((The grunts don't know that of course. They think they're powerful, part of an elite force, something to be feared. They've never been invited to a fancy study and been handed a contract and watched their best friend try to carve off his skin after he signed his name…))

“Jeez,” Virgil says, letting his voice echo in the otherwise silent room and forcing the weakness out of his mind for now. “Remind me never to let you babysit again.”

Most of the grunts startle, which is somewhat amusing to see in the corner of his vision: sparks of light, a few curses, that break the tenuous silence, and the jerky movements of them trying to get back into their intimidating dick measuring stances while still looking around for the source of the disembodied voice. Virgil’s been making people jump at shadows since he was seven but there’s something magical about seeing grown men suddenly fear for their lives.

The only two people who look up are Remus and Patton.

Patton’s clearly been on edge for far longer than his rich heir or his Star Burst mage body knows how to manage, but also he seems to relax a bit when he recognizes that the newcomer is someone he’s met before. Virgil does not think too long about that-- he doesn’t think about it at all actually. Nope. No thinking. He doesn’t even know what he would do with the realization that maybe Patton felt a modicum of safety in Virgil’s presence, like Virgil was likely to be a wall between him and all the bad people down below and it wouldn’t end with both of them dead.

Remus tilts his head just enough to let Virgil know that he also picked up on the way that Patton’s shoulders had shifted down just a bit and his breathing had hitched and then evened out. But beyond that, in atypical-for-Remus fashion he doesn’t make a move to acknowledge it.

Virgil thinks he might be too busy trying to wipe the relief of seeing Virgil wearing the hoodie he painstakingly cleaned before any of the grunts noticed.

“Oh, hello there, Bath Water,” Remus says cheerily, dropping his foot to the ground and shooting to his feet with an excited maniac energy that definitely causes the grunts to look nervous and back up. Most of them have enough common sense to learn from past mistakes of getting caught in Remus's bad moods. The few that don’t…well they don't usually survive for round two. “I thought you were dead!”

“Unfortunately for us both, I still draw breath on this wretched plane of existence.” Virgil says, stretching as he teeters on the beam above them, watching Remus’s hands for any sign of metal expanding over them. “How long was I out for?”

“Twelve hours, give or take,” Remus waves a hand theatrically in the air as if he hasn’t been worried about him, hasn’t been counting the minutes down, hasn’t been missing Virgil at all. “I would have woken you, but I was enjoying the sunshine, shithead.”

There’s a fierceness to Remus’s grin. His tongue piercing rolls over his teeth with a clink clink clink, but Virgil can get the underlying message easily without it. Clay had called him with an order to assign him to this babysitting job, and Remus had complied.

At least there aren’t any bleeding marks on his arms from what Virgil can see. Virgil counts his blessings, if that could even be counted as a blessing. It seemed that more and more, Remus stopped fighting back and that knowledge paired with their unfinished conversation from last night doesn’t bode well for his mental state.

Virgil doesn’t know what he’ll do if Remus gives up. He doesn’t know what he can do. Hope the Magic Council arrests them both and puts them in a cell together, pretty please?

“Yeah, well, hope you enjoyed the sun while it was here,” Virgil says, boredly because he’s heard every variation of the sun is better than your company and Remus doesn’t actually mean it. Probably. “I’m here to ruin everyone’s lives now. Whoop-de-doo.”

“Aw, and you don’t even try.”

Patton makes a sharp wounded noise. Virgil tells himself that it's because Patton breathed too deep and a broken rib caused a pinch of pain, rather than entertain the idea that Patton had almost just defended Virgil against a Metal Dragon Slayer who put rebars through people on a whim sometimes.

“Got something to add, Ace?” Remus snarls at the card mage and Patton shakes his head. “That’s what I thought. Go back to pretending like you have Roman’s dick in your mouth.”

“Now that was crossing a line,” Virgil sighs, as fury so white hot crossed over Patton’s face that even some of the grunts inched backwards. Remus, however, doesn’t look even remotely intimidated: arms behind his head, each of his metal rings clink, clink, clinking together as he flexes his hands like he’s imagining gripping Virgil’s neck and squeezing.

“If he didn’t want me to say it, he wouldn’t act like the sun shines out of Roman’s ass,” Remus snaps.

“If you were jealous of your twin's ass, you could have just asked me for an affirmation,” Virgil says. “I’d let you know that yours is flatter any day.”

"If you wanted me to paint the walls with your insides, you just had to say the word, Virgin! Three more days of sunshine coming right-fucking-up.”

“It doesn’t feel like it would be enough,” Virgil comments with part of a yawn to show just how impressed by the threat he is. Virgil leans against the supporting beam, making sure that Remus can see his bored expression from down there. “I need like three more decades of straight sleep.”

“I can arrange that. I would be fucking peachy to arrange that,” Remus says, cracking his knuckles so loudly that the sound echoes in the room. His black nail polish glints in the low light. “Though I should warn you that no amount of beauty sleep is going to fix your face when I’m done with it.”

“Careful, Remus, or people are going to start assuming you have standards.”

He grins with all his pointed teeth, metal creeping over his neck, shiny and unbreakable even against Virgil’s strongest pressurized water attack. “What exactly are you doing here, other than being extremely punchable, Wastewater? Don’t you have somewhere else to be where you can disappoint your dead parents a bit more?”

“Ouch,” Virgil comments blandly. “Are we at the dead parents' jokes, already?”

He pretends he doesn’t notice how their large audience is quietly watching their back and forth with very little variety of expressions on their faces. Most of them are taking steps back, carving out an arena that Remus looks far too hungry to see, to feel, to use. The tension along Remus’s shoulders reads like a fucking book: the bumbling, brash, bubbling need to destroy something whether it be someone else or himself. Patton looks too soft, too worried, too nervous and Virgil forces himself not to glance at him and ask why do you look worried for me? Why do you care what happens to me? Why do I make you feel safer after everything I did to you?

Virgil swallows and tugs the brim of his hood higher over his head. “Came to see what you were up to, Loser. Heard there was a guest and I’ve never known you to be a good party host.”

Remus barks out a laugh that could have been confused with something gargling glass fragments. Patton jumps slightly at the sound of it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a shuddering breath.

“Oh! I know how to throw a great fucking party! Me, Patty, and all our friends here are playing a fun party game called no one says shit and I don’t break anyone's face again. Several people have already lost. You can join in if you want, and shut the fuck up before I put you in the ground where you belong.”

Virgil snorts. “Me? in the ground? Please. You couldn’t beat me if you actually tried.”

“I definitely could, spritz.”

“You seem to be misremembering how our last fight ended.”

“What makes you think it ended?” Remus growls out. “Come on down here, Virgie. Unless you’re too much of a coward.”

“I can take you down in forty-five seconds.”

“I’m counting.”

They stare at each other for a second, two, three… and it’s just that Remus looks so ridiculous looking up at Virgil for the first time. He’s a foot taller than him, and had so many times plopped his arm on Virgil’s head as a rest, or accidentally put a fist through Virgil’s face when telling a story because he forgot Virgil’s short. From this angle, he has to crane his neck, nearly breaking it, to get a good idea of where all of Virgil’s limbs are, and it almost looks like he’s just glaring at the sky about to fight the rain for making Virgil sad.

Virgil just can’t help it. His lips twitch upwards.

Thankfully that's all Remus needs to see for him to throw his head back and laugh his booming laughter that nearly shakes the whole castle at its foundations. Virgil’s chest hums with the warmth of the sound, the familiarness of it, the way that it can curl into a threat when it chooses but Virgil has never heard it threaten him even after Virgil got his bike destroyed.

The grunts lose their formations; a scattered mess of nameless people all laughing it off with a type of lightness that only comes from desperately trying not to show how nervous they were. Remus made sure everyone knew that Virgil and him had leveled towns in their fights when they were serious and the only people who ever knew when they were serious were the two of them.

((Patton lets out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping forward like a puppet with his strings cut, and Virgil pretends he doesn’t see it even when Remus’s eyes flick over to their captive guest and something dark passes over his expression.))

He lets himself drop down from the rafters, tracing the metal beams like a raindrop, just to pool back into his human form at the floor level, where he bounces with his landing with ease. The Chimera Tongue mages around him all give him a healthy bit of personal space, and Virgil ignores them entirely.

Divines, it’s good to have some of his energy back. He feels like a new man-- He’s sure that if it weren’t for the crippling weight of Remus’s contract, possibly being arrested in the near future, the bomb in his chest, the dull thudding of the headache, and the fact that he participated in a kidnapping, he’d actually be enjoying himself right now.

There’s not much in the room, which Virgil can’t decide if it's a blessing or a curse. On the bright side if a fight does break out there’s less things to damage or have thrown at them, which means less things they’re going to have to pay Guildmaster Clay back for, even though the engraving on that table alone is making Virgil’s imaginary wallet weep. On the totally bad side, that means there’s less things for Remus to have been distracting himself with that wasn’t putting his knuckles through people’s teeth.

There’s a bit of blood on the ground not too far away. Virgil pretends he doesn’t see it.

"Hey," Virgil snaps his fingers at the nearest guild member, who definitely flinches back at being addressed. Virgil thinks he might have been the one that called him Window Washer yesterday; crazy how when there’s a Dragon Slayer in the vicinity people get much nicer to Virgil. "Get lost."

"Uh," the guy says nervously, glancing between Virgil and Remus, "the guildmaster said--"

"If the guildmaster has a problem with it you’re welcome to tell him to come talk to me directly. Of course, he would have to, considering that you’d be a stain on the ground for bothering him��.” Virgil trails off and then shrugging. “And really, do you think that you have a better shot in a fight with the Metal Dragon Slayer than I do?”

Remus curls his fingers into a fist and all of his bones make a resounding, disturbing, horrible cracking noise that almost makes Virgil glance back at him in terror. The grunt’s eyes widen in fear and he stutters a step back and honestly? Same.

“Don't make me repeat myself,” Virgil suggests trying to recover without losing his intimidation factor. “Your body is made up of about 40 liters of water. I only need 4 milliliters to drown you where you're standing. And it wouldn’t even cause a mess!"

Probably wouldn’t make a mess. Virgil’s not sure and he doesn’t really want to find out. But you know what? There’s something satisfying about watching grown men turn tail and run.

Most of them are out the door in seconds; the rest of them are scrambling up from where they were shoved out of the way and following after. The doorway isn’t big enough for more than one of them to fit through at a time and the frantic clambering of them struggling to get through is probably the loudest that the whole room had been in a while. Part of Virgil trills at the sight of it, that sliver of power that he wouldn’t get anywhere else. If only he’d been this bold with the bullies at this orphanage instead of playing hide-and-seek until the Orphanage Leader tossed him out.

Remus laughs as the door slams closed leaving just the two of them and Patton and a room too big for just the three of them. "Ah shit, they think you would do that, still?"

Virgil lets himself sit on the table, pausing only to nod in the direction of Patton without waiting to see if he would or could nod back. "Having a brain isn't exactly a requirement for recruitment around here."

He doesn’t think about the two of them, just eighteen years old, stumbling into the guild hall, grins of nervous laughter and looking for a fight. He doesn’t think about how the guildmaster smiled at them and offered them free lodging for a week while they decided if they wanted to stay. He doesn't think about how having a brain isn't synonymous with not being an idiot, and that a smarter, better, more powerful water mage wouldn’t have just stood there in horror when the red lines of magic tore into Remus’s skin.

And mercifully, Remus doesn’t think about it either.

“Strange bag of unknown origins that hasn’t been touched….Is this for me?” Virgil says, poking at the paper bag of questionable origin on the table. Something in it is sweating, making the paper outside threaten to rip at his touch. “What is it?”

“A severed human head.” Remus waves a hand towards it, in as much of a dismissive gesture as a permissive one. He turns his back to him, stretching his arms over his head in a way that showed off his very impressive arm muscles. His metal toed boots clack-ed on the ground, with the faint jingle of his extra stash of metal bits that he’d no doubt been snacking on. "Muffins, but warning: I only take payment in the form of super sexual favors. You should get on your knees now."

Patton’s ears turn red at the statement and there's a hitch in his breathing that makes Remus grin wider and Virgil rolls his eyes. He doesn’t even want to know what Remus has convinced Patton their relationship is by now, if Remus had even been talking about him at all to Patton.

"Is that so?" Virgil says, helping himself to the bag where there are, indeed, muffins. Three, to be exact, and all blueberry with crystalized sugar on top, as per Virgil’s preferred muffin specifications. He’d gone on a rant once about it a month after they had first month and he hadn’t thought Remus had been listening or cared, but well… here they were, and Remus was doing that thing that he does where he acts like the far wall is extremely interesting.

There's also a bottle of an energy drink that Virgil likes in there, still covered in condensation from where Remus has stored it to keep it cool. Virgil does his best not to look accusingly at Remus, because those were pricey and they both agree it was frivolous expense Virgil could do without.

"Actually, fuck you,” Virgil says, making sure that Remus can hear the guilt that put a strangle hold on his lungs. “You know what? I'm really considering it this time. Where's my debt at, right now?"

"Depends," Remus says, bulldozing straight through what anyone else would call an almost-apology. “What did you grab me from Magnolia?”

((It's easier like this, Virgil thinks. Remus gets him his favorite foods, Virgil finds a new piece of metal to feed him and see what type of mineral upgrades it could give his scale armor for the next thirty minutes. They remember that they're in this together, however hopeless, however dangerous, however draining and miserable and terrible. It's them against the world: Rule One and Rule Four working in tandem so neither of them have to utter the words I'm sorry for the situation I got us both in; If I was slightly less useless, we’d be traveling the countryside without a care in the world right now instead of participating in illegal activities.))

Virgil picks up a muffin and shoves it in his mouth, uncaring for the paper wrapper before he carefully digs through his pockets until he finds the collection of spoons he swiped from Patton’s house and pulls one out to wave at him.

Remus lights up like lightning in the sky, shining so brightly Virgil almost thought he might have been that mystical sun he’s always heard about. His eyes lock onto the metal with an intensity that comes only from being distinctly more-than-human and Remus’s limbs still in a way that reads as preparing to lunge. Virgil flicks the spoon in the air and Remus dives for it like some type of animal, skidding across the cement floor away from Patton. He catches the spoon in his mouth, letting his teeth shatter the handle and gratefully swallowing it in a way that still unnerves Virgil after all these years--He’s seen snakes that don’t look so horrible eating things whole.

But it doesn’t matter much because Remus spits it out in the next breath with a dramatic whine.

“Wet Dream, how could you!” He gags. “Sterling silver?! Couldn’t you have at least bought the stainless steel kind?!”

“You’re lucky it's not plastic!” Virgil says around his bite of muffin and very deliberately does not look at Patton because oh god he thought those were normal ass spoons, he just fed a mostly silver spoon to a trash compactor, the other spoons in his pocket were probably worth more than he had saved up from all his time of working as a wizard.

Actually no, he is looking at Patton because why does he have sterling silver spoons? No one has sterling silver spoons. Those things are expensive as all fuck.

Remus reads his expression like a billboard in the middle of Hargeon Port, though. The delighted look he’d gotten on his face at the prospect of a new metal is nothing compared to the euphoria that he gets at the sight of Virgil’s distress. He theatrically gasps, grinning all the way as he languidly rolls out his shoulders. “Effluent! Did you steal these spoons? Did you steal these spoons from the guy you were hired to kidnap? How low could you get!”

“Please don’t try to talk to me about morally correct actions,” Virgil says, peeling the wrapper off the muffin while trying to catch all the crumbs before they hit the floor.

“You’ve been officially converted!” Remus continues. “Wittle Wirgil is growing up! Entering his evil phase! Next thing you know he’ll be--”

“I’ll pay you in sexual favors to shut up at this point.”

“--jaywalking! Or blasting his emo music too loud after 10pm! Or littering! Perhaps even waving a vulgar hand sign at a middle class elder woman--”

“Do you want these spoons or not?!” Virgil snaps, ignoring the blush on his cheeks that should not be there because he’s not embarrassed by Remus’s stupid impression of him that’s not even close to being accurate. Virgil hates littering, and you only get splattered across a windshield one time before you decide that jaywalking as a nearly see-through entity in a black outfit while it's raining is a hazard.

“No wait, I’ll be quiet!” Remus’s grin doesn’t completely disappear, but he does stop talking finally-- a monumental task for him-- and they say to reward even the little victories so Virgil tosses the rest over and watches Remus catch most of them with little difficulty.

Virgil stuffs the rest of his muffin in his mouth and glances towards Patton. “Uh, sorry.” He swallows, “About your spoons. I hope they weren’t an heirloom.”

Patton shifts uncomfortably glancing between Virgil and Remus, with his mouth opening and closing.

Virgil waves a dismissive hand towards Remus, who is thoroughly enthralled with his new meal. His eyes hold a faint green glow to them as he digests the metal, clocking the strength of it against his usual steel and deciding if he likes the taste more when it comes as an apology gift from Virgil’s rare side crimes. He checks the scales on his forearm in the minimal light, tapping his nails against as part of his usual new-metal-check routine or whatever.

“He doesn’t really care if you speak or not,” Virgil says by way of explanation to the Star Burst mage. “He didn’t want the others making small talk with him. They try to cozy up to him because he’s one of the strongest in the guild.”

“Oh,” Patton says in a small voice that’s nearly overshadowed by Remus crunching on metal carelessly. “Uhm… no the spoons were, uhm, they weren’t really mine.”

Virgil blinks. “I’m going to regret asking this, but whose were they? No offense but I don’t think Roman or Logan can afford silver spoons.”

Could. Oh fuck why did he open his mouth?

Patton half laughs, more like a sigh, more like he can’t believe that his kidnappers are discussing ownership of spoons which are being actively demolished. And well, in his defense, Virgil also can’t believe he’s trying to have a conversation like that. “Uhm… You know about my dad?”

“Hart enterprises,” Virgil says neutrally. “Uh trains? I think.”

Patton looks down at his scraped knees, with an expression that reads somewhere between I wish I was being run over by a train and I wish you were being run over by a train.

“Yeah, it’s trains,” Patton says. “My great grandfather started the company generations ago before Magic guilds were a thing. My grandfather made a bad investment when my dad was a kid and it nearly cost the entire company…my dad swore to never let that happen again. That silverware was one of the first things he bought my mother after they got married and he promised her she’d live like a princess.”

Virgil stares at him with muted horror. “Did you just let me feed your dead mother’s sterling silver spoons to a garbage can?”

“That’s mean,” Patton protests. “Remus isn’t a garbage can--”

“Patton!” Virgil says, tugging on his poncho wishing it could choke him. “Are those spoons your mother’s?”

The card mage shrugs as if it's that simple. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it! I’m glad they’re getting, uhm, use! I don’t even think Dad noticed they were missing and I haven’t been able to make myself use them since I unpacked them. All they’d been doing is reminding me of how life used to be before my mom died.”

Patton takes a deep breath and lets it out and Virgil considers slamming his own head against the table.

“He used to…uhm. He used to be a good person. People liked working for him and with him. He smiled a lot.” Patton glances back up at Virgil. “But after my mom died he kinda lost himself in the company and doing the most to earn profits regardless of workers rights…People started to complain and my dad didn’t want those complaints to reach “people who mattered” so he, uhm. He paid some dark mages to go visit the people who were complaining.”

Virgil isn’t a stranger to those types of jobs. Actually, Virgil had been on more than one of those for Guildmaster Clay’s business. Remus and Virgil were very effective at intimidation and since they weren’t as valued as the other members of Shadow Force it was usually them sent to do it. It always left Virgil feeling a little slimy afterwards, and put Remus in the type of mood that was only solved with copious amounts of alcohol and a good sparring match.

“It got worse after that,” Patton continues. “Ignoring safety regulations, understaffing, paying off people when lawsuits popped up or finding scapegoats to pin the blame on. All while making a fortune at the estate as if he could buy my mother back from death! He forced me to stop practicing magic around the house and forbid me from leaving without his permission and--”

“He sounds like an ass,” Remus says, causing Patton to flinch and squeak as if he had forgotten the Dragon Slayer was there. Virgil doesn’t necessarily blame him: Remus had this ability to look like he was completely absorbed in something else, and yet still be completely aware of what was going on. Remus juggles the last spoon over his knuckles, flipping it into the air one last time before catching it in his mouth and snapping it clear in half and then he lets his silver scales fade back into his skin without looking at either of them.

Patton laughs in a way that comes out as more hysterical than pleased. “Uh yep! Yeah. He’s uhm, not great. He cashed in a favor with Guildmaster Clay to get me brought back to the estate so he can, uhm, marry me off�� as part of a business negotiation...”

Virgil feels his stomach drop a little further. “Marry you off? What, like you’re a piece of property?”

“Yep,” He pops the ‘p’ as he says it and offers a watery, wilting smile that makes the cracks in his glasses seem larger and Virgil’s heart hurt a bit stronger and hate himself a little more. “I, uhm, guess I was pretty stupid to think running away would actually get me away from there.”

“What about Roman,” Remus asks, very unknindly. Virgil stares at him, and Remus ignores him in favor of glowering at Patton with all the sympathy of a feral demon looking for its next meal. “You don’t think that Fire Fucker will come save you? He ditched his dead twin brother for you.”

“Remus,” Virgil says.

“I don’t… I didn’t know he would come for me!” Patton says, apologetically. Virgil almost wants to reach out and shake him for it. “I didn’t think he kept the card after I gave it to him and then when everything happened I panicked and pulled a random card--”

“Do you have any idea what the fuck he did to me?”

“No! But--” Patton cuts back, shedding the cover of the scared little card mage and morphing into the kind guy who could go toe-to-toe with Guildmaster Clay without breaking a sweat and holy shit, that’s kinda terrifying; is this what all little business children learn to do? “But the Roman I know is a good person who makes mistakes sometimes! You don’t have to give him another chance, Remus, you don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to! But you don’t get to tell me the man I know isn’t real because you’re hurting!”

“You are talking yourself into a fucking hopsital bed,” Remus warns.

“Guys!” Virgil says, but both of them ignore him.

“And it doesn’t matter! Roman won’t come for me again anyway!” Patton shouts, and Remus freezes. “My dad has too much magic around the house-- Roman wouldn’t be able to come even if he did find a real dragon--”

Virgil isn’t sure if it was the glowing green magic circle appearing under Remus’s feet, or the claws, or the horns twisting out of his hair, but Patton clamps his mouth shut nearly immediately. Virgil stands up, a step away, a little too far, and his insides swirl like a tidal wave trying to convince him to throw himself between Remus and his prey.

“What do you mean find a real dragon?” Remus snarls.

Patton squeaks something that is not a response, although even Virgil can’t think of a response that’s both a decent one and also doesn’t end with more blood on the floor.

"You're telling me," Remus says, eyes narrowing into slits, and teeth sharpening. “That dickwad has the audacity to call himself a dragon slayer, after the stories of the bravest heroes who were chosen for their heroic acts, from our hometown that was destroyed completely leaving us as the only ones who even remember those stories, after he left me to fucking die at the hands of cultists, and he never even met a real fucking dragon?"

Patton makes a squeak that sounds a bit like a dying chew toy, his complexion matching the toneless ashen color of the walls around them and that determined persona evaporating faster than Virgil’s insides when he starts to panic. Remus’s tail swings behind him dangerously, metal scales scraping the concrete.

"Uhm," Patton stutters, shaking, wilting so far back that Remus’s shadow completely covers him. "I don’t--We don't…talk about it!"

Remus reaches out a hand and yanks Patton up by his shirt collar, pulling him completely off the ground with barely any trouble. “You fuckers don’t talk about it--”

“Remus, Rule Three,” Virgil cuts in even though he is not part of this conversation what’s-so-ever.

Remus blinks, caught off guard, and so is Patton Hart; they both jolt out of their…positions, and it's like watching street actors slip out of the roles they’re performing. The room stings with the silence, heavy and biting and Virgil stares at the blank space between Remus and Patton as if it held some answers. It doesn’t fool Remus who for sure is listening to his heartbeat with a beady, suspicious look that borders on being offended that Virgil isn’t encouraging him pummeling Patton into the concrete floor, isn’t outraged on his behalf, isn’t showing just how loyal Virgil is to Remus because loyalty is the only thing that Virgil has that worth keeping him around for--

Remus takes a deep breath, blows it out through his nose, and then lets go of Patton’s shirt. Patton hits the floor with a soft, pathetic oof, and Remus turns his back to him completely as if manifesting the “out of sight out of mind” concept. The green circle under his boots hums for a second and fades, and at the same time his tail disappears and his claws even out back to regular fingers.

“Alright, Virgin,” he says, dragging the metal piercing of his tongue along his teeth to draw out a clinkclinkclink. Then he says, “Ratings of the tea cakes in Magnolia. Start with the worst.”

“I didn’t have any,” Virgil says. “You know I didn’t have any. I wasn’t gone long enough to try any tea cakes.”

“Four out of ten,” Remus decides, hopping up on the table next to where Virgil was eating his muffins, his ragged curls bouncing lightly. “I ate like thirty of them and I’m still hungry! They had no metal razors in them at all!”

“Normal people can’t eat razors, you freak of nature,” Virgil rolls his eyes.

“If they weren’t cowards they could,” Remus counters. “SlapPat back me up: Are Magnolia tea cakes better with razors in them or without?”

For someone who lives (lived?) with Roman and Logan, he looks utterly bewildered by Remus’s change in tone and actions. Virgil isn’t sure why: he can’t imagine that living in a house that has to have a microwave with a sign reading “No Science in this one, LOGAN” is any more quirky than watching Remus forcefully drop a subject and pretend it doesn’t weigh heavily on his mind. Roman probably does something similar, too.

Did. Probably “did” something similar.

Because Malice probably killed both Roman and Logan and then dragged Patton here by his hair. There’s a part of Virgil that doesn’t believe what Greed said about Malice being in the infirmary; there’s a part of Virgil that shakes from his knees thinking about Malice’s barrage of knives striking through Remus’s skin when his back was turned. He can’t imagine any of the Star Burst Mages managing to counter it.

But would Roman and Logan die to Malice like that? Roman broke out of Virgil’s waterlock from pure rage alone. Wouldn’t that translate to him having enough spite to defy death? But if Virgil was able to almost wipe them out by himself, what true chance did Star Burst’s Strongest Team really have against someone who actually wanted to kill them?

Knives in flesh. Screaming. Blood pouring from Logan’s back. Envy’s laugh.

He needs to stop thinking about this. He really needs to stop thinking about it.

“--them so, please don’t hit me,” Patton is saying, tensing slightly.

Remus scoffs, “It’s your opinion, dipshit. I’m not going to be offended that you’ve got awful tastes. Who do you think I am?”

Patton shifts entirely to face Virgil, lightyears beyond being distressed.

Virgil sighs. “Remus, we are currently holding him against his will, and literally seconds ago you almost put him through the wall.”

“Yes, and?”

“Divines, why am I even trying to explain this? How are you the one that got landed with this job? The guildmaster doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you." And probably further than that. There’s a reason why Remus isn’t allowed off the property unless with explicit instructions on who he can talk to and what he can do.

((Virgil is reminded for a second that if he had run after that first night, after he had patched together Remus’s bleeding forearms and stayed awake for thirty six hours straight to make sure Remus didn’t try to peel through legal binding magic in with his own claws again-- if he had run that first time and told everyone what the guildmaster had done maybe something about all this would have changed.

But Virgil hadn’t been able to take the chance that the guild wouldn’t disappear overnight and that he’d never find them again. It had been the right call, in hour thirty seven, Guildmaster Clay had come to the room to teleport Remus to their new secret guildhall, merely raising an eye, “interesting,” at how Virgil was still there, stubborn and resentful and already attempting to plan how he was going to steal that contract and tear it apart himself.))

Remus snorts. "Well he doesn’t exactly have a choice now does he? Didn’t anyone tell you Envy’s in the infirmary and Malice needed stitching on every single limb of his? Both of them are nursing grudges so large they’re liable to kill out of spite. Pride and Greed are Pride and Greed, and Clay likes fucking with us so...."

"Wait, wait, wait, seriously? Malice is actually in the infirmary? Who landed a hit on Malice?" Virgil turns to look at Patton. "Which one of them?"

Patton hesitates before offering up a soft, "uh... me?"

Virgil blinks, suddenly thinking back to their interactions previously: how Patton went limp as a doll when Virgil drowned him, how when he woke up mostly confused and leaned into Virgil's back to avoid the rain, how even when he attacked he had stopped when Virgil was down and talked kindly to him and told Roman to back down and--

Obviously Remus is also stunned for a moment at the new information. He’s quiet for a moment, disbelieving as he stares at Patton, half a scoff on his lips which dies when he zeroes in on what Virgil can only assume Patton’s unsteady heartbeat and decides that No, Patton is not lying about having nearly completely taken out a member of Shadow Force by himself.

“The kitten has claws!” He says towering over their captive hostage, so that his shadow swamps him. “I thought you were a card mage?”

“I am,” Patton says nervously, twisting his hands in their bindings like he was reaching for a card that isn’t there.

Remus is reassessing Patton again: comparing his previous assumptions of him with the new information and coming to conclusions that probably lean more towards the side of things that Virgil doesn’t actually want to know about. It was likely that Remus had been there when Malice and Envy had apparently dragged themselves back to the guildhall and had heard that version of events-- which Virgil seriously doubted involved Malice admitting he’d been bested by a handful of tarot cards and a guy in cat socks.

"No wonder he took offense to your face," Remus says. "I’m almost impressed."

Virgil leans back against the table chewing thoughtfully on his second muffin. "I wish I could have seen it."

"Uhm," Patton stutters. "Aren't you guys friends?"

The bite of muffin lodges in Virgil's throat, rock hard and sharp and Virgil doesn’t need to breathe but he finds himself doubled over hacking it back up at the same time as Remus laughs.

"I have dreams about shoving Malice's cocky ass face into a wood chipper," Remus says grandly. "I want to be there when that asshole dies just so I can kick his corpse around like a soccer ball until his limbs pop off and his brains are splattered across the whole place and his skull caves in!"

Patton jerks back at the tone and the imagery, but honestly that's pretty tame for Remus. Virgil's heard a lot of worse things spewing from Remus's mouth post a fight with Malice specifically. Virgil is kinda surprised that Patton hadn’t realized that the name wasn’t a joke; Malice didn’t exactly get his name from his benevolent acts of goodwill.

"He controls metal," Virgil explains, raspily. "And he's an asshole. So when they fight, Malice's first move is to always rip out all of Remus's piercings in one go."

Virgil had tried convincing Remus to get rid of his piercings after that first time he’d been on the floor bleeding from sixteen locations, but Remus was a glutton for danger and the second time Malice did it Remus gave him sixteen piercings on the spot and then stood over Malice’s writhing body and spat, “There now we’re matchies, Mal!” He probably would have done worse, but the guildmaster had stepped in and called Remus back like he was a misbehaving dog that had bitten a child at the playground.

"Why would anyone do that?!" Patton yelps. "That's so….horrible!"

Virgil and Remus chorus together, "It's Chimera Tongue."

"A guild is supposed to be your family. Your friends! A safe place that you can always come back to without worrying about anything! The people in your guild are supposed to be closer than anyone else--"

“Are you crying?” Remus asks, squinting at him in confusion.

Patton sniffles, looking like he would wipe his eyes if it weren’t for his wrists being held behind his back. Virgil squeezes his muffin in his hand, feeling the absurd need to make him stop because it's not even that bad! Surely Star Burst is at least a little like this, right?

“A guild is supposed to be your family,” Patton says again. “You’re supposed to be able to rely on them!”

“You rely on my brother?”

The sharpness of Remus’s tone is like putting a blade to Patton’s throat, and Remus’s grin is about as reassuring as a cliff drop into an open grave.

“Yes-- No-- Wait!” Patton curls up on himself. “That’s different! He can rely on me! But I’m not-- I am--”

“You’re not what? One of Roman’s bitchboys?”

Virgil makes a sharp noise. “Remus. Knock it off. He’s already been Rule Three-d today.”

“No, I want to know what it is that this bitch thinks makes my brother so great!” Remus swishes back around to Patton. “He can rely on you, but you can’t rely on him? That’s bullshit. That’s not a “family”. That’s not even a fucking friend! That sounds like he takes advantage of you and you let him because your dumb ass thinks that’s better than going home and letting daddy take advantage of you instead!”

“Remus!”

Remus ignores him, staring down Patton. There’s a long tense moment where neither Remus nor Patton says a thing and Virgil thinks that maybe he doesn’t need to worry about the poison in his chest because the tension in the room was going to explode him instead.

The tattoo on Remus’s neck rolls slightly as Remus swallows and Virgil wonders if he’s the only one smelling bleach all of the sudden, if he’s the only one remembering the taste of wine infused promises all of a sudden, if he’s the only one remembering “There’s nothing different about me with a collar and me without one!” all of a sudden.

“And while we’re on the topic,” Remus adds hard and biting. “You’ve gotta have some pretty big balls to go around assuming that either of us are part of this fucking guild of our own fucking free will. Family, my fucking ass-- If I ever got the chance to burn this place to the ground with everyone inside it, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Patton’s face looks like Remus shoved a whole lemon in his mouth, the cuts on his cheek sluggishly reopening with the puckered expression. His wide blue eyes latch onto Remus’s collar bone as if he would see the same orange handprint on Remus’s chest as Virgil had inside him.

Remus offers him a light sneer when it becomes clear that Patton would not be responding. “I’m sure by the time you’re done thinking about all that, Roman will be here to save your ass anyway.”

“He’s not coming for me.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Did Malice and Envy leave him alive?”

“...uhm. Yes, I think?”

Remus’s face does a silly little thing where he tries not to break Rule 2 before it's even been lunch time. “Then he’s coming for you. Mazel tov, asshole.”

The silence burns for a moment, making Virgil jittery from nerves and unused adrenaline and stubborn relief he should not be having. The urge to do something, say something is coursing through his limbs, but all he can manage to do is wring the empty plastic bottle of the energy drink between his hands and wish that the muffin he’d eaten had been a little less sweet.

Roman was alive. Probably. Virgil isn’t sure why that makes him… feel things. He’s not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing and Remus’s expression is so complex Virgil doesn’t think he knows how to feel about it either.

How to feel about Roman choosing Patton over him, about Roman leaving him behind twice now, about how likely it is that Roman would do it a third time if Remus doesn’t win their next fight and get the chance to walk away first.

But if Roman was able to break from Virgil’s Waterlock and Patton managed to land several devastating hits on Malice, what was that chance that they didn’t have some other trick up their sleeves that would be enough to tip the scales against Remus?

Virgil can't help but imagine how pissed off both Malice and Envy must be about all this, too. He’s doubly grateful, suddenly, that he’d gone to Greed instead of them to find Remus’s whereabouts; he doesn’t think Malice or Envy had ever been beaten by anyone other than other Shadow Force members but he gets the distinct feeling that they were sore losers and Virgil’s face would have been a great stress reliever.

The untouchables, being nearly decimated by a handful of idiots. It was one thing for Virgil to come back so dense with mud that he was practically a walking pottery attempt; it was something else entirely to make Guildmaster Clay have to trust Remus with not breaking something.

The dozens of grunts made sense now. They must have been the best assurance the Guildmaster had that Patton wouldn’t get too roughed up if Remus decided to attempt to sabotage the whole plan. They certainly wouldn’t have actually done any damage to Remus but they probably could have slowed him down enough to allow time for another member of Shadow Force, regardless of how injured, to get there.

Actually with Pride being busy with whatever the next phase of the scheme Clay's working on is, Malice in the infirmary, and Envy off cooling off, really only Greed and Remus remain of the elite tier of Shadow Force--

Oh.

"Virgil," Remus says, because even out of the corner of his eyes he can recognize certain body languages and Virgil had not been fast enough hiding it. "No."

"What?" Virgil lies. "I wasn't thinking about anything!"

"Dumbass, I can hear your heartbeat," Remus snarls. "Read my fucking lips before put a rebar in you myself: No."

"When are we gonna get another chance like this?!"

"Your death wish stopped being cute twenty seconds ago," Remus says. "Drop. It."

"Your resignation stopped being cute four months ago," Virgil shoots back. "When are you gonna be done throwing your pity party and wake the fuck up and do something about all this?" Virgil motions to Patton, "You said it yourself! We need another type of magic, and wow! Look! A card mage, the most versatile magic type that you can get--"

"Shut up.”

“--and he even took out Malice by himself! He’s plenty capable. Part of the strongest team of wizards at Star Burst!"

"Do you know what the number one killer of card mages is?" Remus asks. "Their flimsy little bodies! Look at him! It would barely take anything at all to break his scrawny little neck!"

And yeah, okay, honestly, Virgil can agree. Especially with him already so beat up from Malice, he's barely more than a cheap counterfeit version of his own pictures and certainly not something that Virgil thinks would stand a decent chance against Greed or Pride. Not to mention the semi obvious lack of magic cards in their vicinity, although if Virgil can go collect the deck of cards from wherever they ended up, Patton probably had something that could heal himself! Probably!

"He's got plot armor!" Virgil says. "Scheme armor! They can't hurt him!"

Remus stares at him. Virgil thinks that's his you're-actually-an-idiot look. "Just because Clay doesn't want him fucking dead doesn't mean that Clay can't make his life miserable. He's fucking creative like that."

Remus’s eyes flick towards Virgil's collarbone, and even though everyone in the room is aware of it, Virgil feels the urge to make sure it's not visible. He scowls and pulls on the collar of his poncho.

“And also Clay gave me the specific order to make sure he stays tied up,” Remus yawns, stretching an arm out and then thumping Virgil on his head, in the way that would probably give most other people a concussion but merely sends ripples through Virgil's body.

"Stop," Remus advises in all the sage wisdom of someone who absolutely needs to get the shit kicked out of him in order to feel something again.

"Fuck you," Virgil says.

"If you're a good boy I'll let you suck me off later."

"You are actually the worst."

"What, you'll do it for Janus Ekans but not for me?"

"Leave him out of this!" Virgil snaps, shoving Remus’s arm off his head. "I'm Rule Three-ing Janus Ekans too!"

Remus squints. "The concept of him or just his name? I can't make fun of your crush if I can't bring up the topic."

"Y-you know Janus?" Patton stutters out and then immediately looks like he wishes he hadn't when Remus and Virgil both turn towards him. He wilts back like he can steal the words right back out of the air if he looks guilty enough.

Unfortunately, Remus is already clinging to them with his iron grip, a smile so wide it's nearly threatening as he stares down at the card mage. For all his posturing about wanting it to be silent, Remus laughs pretty loudly at Patton’s question and Virgil mostly wants to turn into a puddle and seep into the foundation and never be heard from again.

With one hand he drags Patton into a standing position and sinks his arm around his neck, ignoring the way that the smaller boy pales and panics and probably thinks that Remus is about to enact some horrible physical punishment on him. Remus however points Patton in the right direction and with a nightmarish flourish he presents Virgil in all his half boiled glory.

"Virgil heard him talk once and nearly evaporated!"

"Will you let it go!" Virgil hisses tugging on the drawstrings of his hood.

Patton, despite the mortal terror he must be feeling, lets out a shaky smile, and a partial laugh. His freckles seem to shimmer when he does, as if he finds this utterly humiliating revelation to be amusing.

"It was one time!" Virgil says.

"And it wasn't enough!" Remus croons. "He dreams of golden hair glistening with raindrops, hands brushing when they both reach for the same umbrella, then he leans down and whispers--"

"Stop making it weird!"

"That's a weird thing to hope he says in your ear."

"He likes the rain," Virgil says hopelessly without looking at either of them, because they can't possibly understand what it's like to see someone who doesn’t wish for the sun that Virgil will never be able to give them.

Patton bites the inside of his lip thoughtfully. “It makes sense,” he says. “Janus’s magic is stronger in the rain. If you guys teamed up, you could probably do some really cool things.”

“Well it's not happening!” Virgil says quickly. “He doesn’t even know I exist and I’d like to keep it that way because I tend to ruin everyone’s lives when I enter them!”

“Hey!” Patton snaps out before even Remus can say anything, sway on his feet. “You can’t talk bad about my friend! I’ll fight you!”

Remus frowns, “What, Janus?”

“No! Virgil!” Patton says. “Virgil’s my friend! No one talks bad about my friends! Not even themselves!”

There’s something about the way that he says it-- the certainty and the boldness-- that makes Virgil’s insides churn hard with guilt. Remus’s face goes blank for a long moment, clear of any emotion that Virgil can read and that’s nearly more terrifying than the idea of facing off one-on-one with Guildmaster Clay.

“The same type of friend who can rely on you but whom you can’t rely on?” Remus asks. “Virgil ain’t interested in that vulcanshit.”

“I can speak for myself actually,” Virgil cuts in blandly, and then he turns to Patton before he can witness the clear skepticism on Remus’s face. Patton has this light in his eyes, soft and gentle that reminds Virgil of how Patton’s knee jerk reaction to someone breaking into his house was to offer them food. Virgil steels himself regardless and shoves the guilty feeling away.

“But he is right. Aside from the part where we are literally on the opposite sides of the law here, and if we get our way, you’re going to be married off and never see us again and that I have almost drowned you like three times--”

“--only two,” Patton says.

“--It’s still bad,” Virgil finishes lamely. “You can’t trust me, I mean. I don’t trust me. If you aren’t going to value yourself as a person worthy of self preservation enough to not try to make friends with someone who very obviously would follow through with an order to kill you, then what the fuck am I supposed to do? Constantly, be on the lookout for you? I can’t do that. I physically cannot do that. My surface tension would get so strong I would explode; It’s a wonder I haven’t already--”

“Virge,” Remus says.

“--If we are going to be friends, you have to rely on me,” Virgil sums up. “You have to trust me as much as you want me to trust you.”

“Oh isn’t that adorable!” A voice sings from the front of the room, and both Virgil and Remus freeze where they are. Neither of them have to turn to know who it is: Remus because he’s unwillingly cataloged the heartbeat, breathing pattern, and gait of every member of the Shadow Force, and Virgil because Envy when she’s really pissed off has enough power to take away his magic and if that happens he’s pretty sure he’ll lose his actual consciousness forever.

((There was a wind mage not too long ago, made completely of air, who dated Envy and broke it off after the seventh red flag got waved in the other girl’s face. She didn’t get more than three steps away before Envy was sucking the very life force out of her and vengefully watched as the mage dissipated into nothing in the middle of the mess hall for everyone to see. The only thing that had been left of her was a palm sized opal crystal, and even that Envy had smashed to the floor and stomped on the shards until the last of the magic had dissipated.

…Virgil had spent the next seven hours staring at the same spot waiting, wishing, hoping that the breeze would tighten and weave back into being, before Remus had hauled him back to their room.))

Remus, on instinct, shoves Patton into Virgil’s arms and then stands in front of them both blocking Envy’s view of them, and growling very animalistically. Patton must have recognized her voice too, because he goes extremely quiet, fingers twisting in his bonds to get a card that isn’t there and Virgil gets about a dozen internal alarms ringing in his head about this whole thing.

“Take a hike, bitch,” Remus snarls.

“Why are you always so mean to me, Gluttony?” Envy whines, with all the childish charm of a girl who practiced setting her dolls on fire at age four.

“The fuck did you just call me?!” Remus says green light flickering under his feet as a clear warning.

Virgil dares to peek around Remus’s broad form to glance at Envy. She’s always been petite; making up for her height with sheer ruthlessness and disdain for anyone with a flashy power and platform boots. She still had to look up to meet Remus’s gaze but she did it with the smugness of someone who had several tricks up their sleeve and liked to make babies cry. For someone who should have been in the infirmary she was remarkably present down here, bandages wrapped around her arms and her leg and a patch on her cheek that barely hid the discolored bruises and burns.

In her hands is a large sparkling pink crystal, like a jagged cut of rose quartz nearly the size of new lacrima and practically glowing with energy. She grins in a way that does not bode well.

“Glut-ton-y,” Envy repeats, slower. “I mean, that’s the name you’re going to have soon, right? Might as well get used to being called it now. See, it fits the theme! Pride, Envy, Greed, Malice-- Gluttony!”

“Call me it again and I will make what happened to Malice look like a fucking dream,” Remus says.

Envy sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re so lame. Is this because of Virgil? You know you can do better than him. All he does is hold you back and make you feel guilty about having fun.”

Virgil feels himself boil slightly, but it's nothing compared to how Remus’s green circle explodes from under him and metal wraps around his limbs like armor, as sleek and unbreakable as a sword. His tail curls to the side, and Virgil distantly recognizes its hooking his ankle as if to make sure he doesn’t move into danger.

“Oh,” Patton breathes shakily into Virgil’s side suddenly.

“Oh, come on,” Envy says. “You know I’m right! If it weren’t for him hovering around you wouldn’t have a problem with the contract! In a year or two once you stop making everything so difficult for yourself, Greed would even hand it over and let you rip it up yourself!”

“You’re under the mistaken understanding that my contract stops me from killing you right here,” Remus says.

“Look, just because the two of you are fucking on the weekends--”

Remus swings his arm and a rebar of galvanized steel sweeps barely to the left of her face, shaving off three inches of her hair on that side of her face. She stumbles back, hand coming up to tap her cheek and coming away with a long thin line of blood across her cheek bone.

“You’re out of warnings,” Remus growls. “Get lost Or I send you to join Malice in morphine hell.”

She snorts in disbelief, swaying on her feet and then she smiles again and zeroes in on Virgil, despite Remus very obviously stepping in front again. “Hey, Virgie! Patty! It’s been so long! Do you guys know what this is?”

She holds up the crystal, letting it shimmer in the low light, like something valuable, like something irreplaceable, like something fragile and breakable. For a moment Virgil is thinking about it; about his quick water whip slicing under Remus’s arm, clearing him entirely and knocking that gem fifteen feet beyond all of them, shattering it against the concrete floors and letting the sound ring out infinitely in all the cellars.

He could picture it: the magic housed in the crystal exploding apart wafting up into the air like colored smoke before it disappears entirely already heading back to the person it came from. Suddenly, all Virgil can remember is Logan saying “...a trap was set up by what I believe is a null-magic user” and “Thomas is okay. For now.”

Suddenly Virgil has a very bad feeling about Envy being down here.

“This is all the magic power of Thomas Sanders!” Envy says proudly, and Patton’s breath hitches. “I think this is the biggest one I’ve ever collected! Makes sense since that old man couldn’t even when I was done! I probably could have finished him off entirely if the Guildmaster hadn’t stopped me.”

She shifts it between her hands. “Mal and I were talking, and, you know, the guildmaster went to a lot of trouble to make a plan that would get Thomas out of the way like this! If it breaks, he’ll probably kill the person who’s annoyed him the most recently…Isn’t that you, Virge? He was real pissed that you messed up as bad as you did. Not only did you set his schedule off, but you made him send Mal and me, and now Mal is in recovery so he can’t do the next part of the plan and my nails have been ruined…The guildmaster will probably be mad enough to just…. Poof you out of existence without me needing to do anything!”

She smiles with absolutely no friendliness in it. “Hey, hey, Virgil! You know what would be really funny? Catch!”

And then she tosses that crystal over her own fucking shoulder towards the ground.

[Next Chapter]

#Virgil is a water mage #Fairy tail crossover #Remus is not having a good time #But then again #neither is Patton #nor Virgil #Everyone probably could do with some therapy #dragon slayer Remus #Card Mage Virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #Remus and Virgil are best friends

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bellevvalencia · 1 year ago

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So, what?

I have nothing to write about anymore.

Do I write about age?

About my birthday or my friends or my family?

Maybe I should write about the last three months again.

I kind of wanted to write about one night, but a night is all that it was.

Is my career something I should think about right now?

Am I missing something?

Am I right exactly where I need to be?

Am I doing enough?

Maybe I’m not doing enough.

The story is not that boring. You wear blazers to work and suffer through impostor syndrome because you are a seven out of seven. You go straight to the gym, hungry and tired, not really thinking about it because it’s either you go or you kill yourself inside. You think about moving out, or buying a car, and whether or not it’s something you can afford by yourself. You think about staying in the country or flying out abroad to live anew. You think about death sometimes. You think about love and you wonder if it’s ever going to find your way. You talk to your friends a lot. You look forward to going out with your friends a lot. You party every weekend. You kiss boys you’ve known before and you kiss boys you’ve only met. You drag yourself through Mondays. You miss your family sometimes, but you convince yourself that you have to get used to it because you’re a grown-up. You unlearn new habits and relearn old habits because you find out that the things that you loved and hated about yourself are what make you you.

All that you do is personal to you. Although a lot of it, considerably, cannot be. You tell yourself again and again that no one ever truly knows, even if all signs point to just one direction. You want someone so badly but you don’t want to settle. You want to be a fuck yes, but even you can’t really give anyone a fuck yes.

What else am I supposed do write about now? That, in a span of two hours, I have decided three times that I would not go to the gym, but as I write this at 11:01 p.m., I am resting through my RDL sets on the gym floor...?

The story is not that boring. If you think about it, it’s actually pretty scary. You have all these interesting bits and pieces but they are terribly difficult to make sense of. In consulting, the most important question is, “so, what?” It’s supposed to come as the second nature.

Fuck if I know what the answer to my “so, what?” is.

It’s good and fun and awesome to write and live to tell these until you’re walking one day and realize that all of your steps are all that they are... they are steps.

What they are leading towards, you’re not entirely sure.

It’s quite a hard question to answer: knowing what you want to do, not what you’re okay with doing. Because most of the time, there’s really no way of telling. You can be excellent at something and still feel like shit every waking morning. You can suck so miserably bad at something and still gleefully bounce out of bed every single day. Finding the sweet spot in between takes time, effort, and precedence. And maybe a little bit of luck.

Not all of us are lucky enough to have a precedence. A figure to look up to, or dreams, or actual goals, for example—because there are first-borns who grew up as machines, independently fueled by an unspoken force to work as hard as they can, no matter where the path leads on. It’s a privilege to be that first-born sometimes. You get to stick through things to see the end, even if those things are already fucking keeping you off of it. You’re stubborn in this way, but it’s not like you can help it—you were shaped to pick the choices that are best and safest for everyone, not just for you. It works out half of the time; the other half you either get a good laugh or a terrible cry. But it’s okay. First-born machines are built to be okay.

We’re okay.

You could be a middle-child, too, with tons of insecurities and a coping mechanism to alienate, which will make it incredibly hard to identify what you love from what you tolerate. You could be the last-born, with the pressure of the entire royal family hereby bestowed upon your shoulder, unofficially, and although you know it’s just how they love you, you’ll never feel as comforted by it as you are shaken about it.

The order could be anything and you could have all the traits like you won the lottery. But nobody really cares about that when you feel like the air that you breathe is fucking lapsing, and your brain starts asking you, so what?

So, what? You give it a shot.

You don’t know what you want to do until you give it a try and live it out.

You’re a teen in your twenties, you have all the time to experience anything in the world, and no matter how much you have to lose, you only really have more to gain.

You work out after work? Good for you. You don’t? Get as much rest as you can.

You’re moving out? Best decision you’ve ever made. You’re not? Spend time with your family as long as you can.

You’re going abroad? You better max it out. You’re not? Chase what’s holding you back.

You want to die? Okay. You don’t? Okay.

You’re looking for love? Great, I’m single. You’re not? That’s also great.

You party every weekend? Why am I not invited? You don’t? Take care of yourself.

You kiss boys? Kiss some more. You don’t? Don’t.

You hate Mondays? Everyone does. You don’t? What is wrong with you?

You miss your family? Go home. You don’t? Go out.

You’re unlearning and relearning yourself, in your twenties, in the middle of this chaotic shitshow that is the quarter-life crisis? Be proud of yourself because not everybody can.

You’re not? You should.

Again, you ask me, so what? We have everything to write about. We just need to learn to live the story.

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shootertron-stuff · 1 year ago

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Royal Mail Ships of the Great Warp Storms

I was inspired by a post positing potential names for RMS Titanic sister ships if White Star had kept to their naming scheme and made more Olympic oceanliners.

A lot of them sounded like Chaos spaceships. Perhaps the "Royal" in "Royal Mail Ship" refers to being under a daemon prince.

The RMS Septic and RMS Carcinogenic are two Death Guard mail and passenger ships themed after deep sea life. The RMS Septic looks like a dead whale and the outside is covered in space barnacles that can survive in the tides of the Warp. The inside contains animals such as bone-boring worms, polychaetes, sea cucumbers, octopi, and isopods. It smells really bad.

The RMS Septic's sister ship, the RMS Carcinogenic, looks like a shipwreck that has been on the bottom of the ocean for at least a century, covered in rusticles and more sea critters. It's also very stinky. There's also crabs, lots of crabs. Not just actual crab, but crab-themed furniture, crab-themed kitchenware, sculpted crabs on door handles...

The lodgings on the two ships are the most luxurious available by Death Guard standards. Despite everything looking like it's been at the bottom of the ocean, there's a grand staircase, a dance hall, a gym, a swimming pool, sports rooms, gardens, a grand dining hall, room service, and Art Nouveau-style furnishings.

The food, though, will give you food poisoning and/or cancer. If you're on board the RMS Carcinogenic, you may turn into a crab, or multiple crabs. But it's alright, you won't die.

As passenger ships go, the RMS Septic and RMS Carcinogenic are the safest around. Construction-wise, the ships have more safety features than average, and are designed to take a beating without falling apart. Nobody has ever died onboard even though you're guaranteed to catch at least one disease.

While they're pretty slow compared to ships aligned with the other gods, they're exceptionally reliable, and you and the mail are guaranteed to get where you need to go...eventually. Even if you don't look quite the same as you did when you boarded.

The RMS Probiotic is also a Nurglite ship, but themed around a swamp. Try the kombucha! It's got billions of microbes.

The RMS Parasitic gets around by hitchhiking on larger ships, like a remora on a shark. Somehow, it hijacks the brains of the crew so they go where the crew of the Parasitic wants to go. Once attached, it's nearly impossible to pry it free or break open. The attachment method that lets it hang on without being jolted off is a top secret.

The RMS Hallucinogenic are two identical ships owned by a Tzeentchian warband. One will make you trip balls, while the other has a 50% chance of turning you into a hallucigenia, the Cambrian animal. This is referred to as "getting shrimped".

Both ships have a habit of picking up stranded spacefarers or people fleeing warzones, people desperate enough to take the chances of losing their humanity. It's common for one of the Hallucinogenics to arrive at port with the swimming pool filled with hallucigenia, the passengers who didn't get shrimped instructed to gingerly transport the passengers who did. There's a reason the pool water has the same composition as Cambrian seawater.

The final destination of shrimped passengers is a marine sanctuary world somewhere in the Great Warp storms, where they will live out their lives in peace, at least until something eats them.

The RMS Plutonic looks like a regular Khornate ship on the outside, with red paint and lots of spikes. On the inside, it looks like a volcanic zone, with extreme heat, magma tunnels, lava flows, and volcanic rocks. Owing to the nature of Chaos ships, the Plutonic doesn't fall apart from all the molten rock inside of it when by all means, it should. All the furniture is made of rocks. All the amenities are combat-themed. You have to kill and cook your own meals.

Perhaps it's a good idea to only mail heat-resistant materials on this ship.

The RMS Dramatic is a Khornate ship that only hires the worst drama queens as its crew! Everything is a big deal to them! If you complain about the food you get food thrown on your lap. If you look at the crew wrong you get thrown in the brig!

Sometimes the crew has gotten in trouble for tossing mail out of the airlock because they got mad.

The ship is known for causing drama when it arrives at port, for one reason or another. Explosions, fistfights, missing passengers, near collisions...

The RMS Unrealistic manages to sail despite looking like it shouldn't. It looks cobbled together, or too big and awkwardly shaped to hold together in flight. Looking at it, one feels like when a work of visual fiction has a certain art style, and an object from another series with an completely different art style is inserted into it.

Onboard, the laws of physics become wobbly. The floor becomes the ceiling, and passengers may get turned inside-out. It's good not to have realistic expectations for what may happen to you!

Nobody knows anything about the RMS Enigmatic. All the reviews are very vague about what the onboard experience is like, but somehow tickets get sold. People who've seen the ship dock and take off can't remember what it looked like. As soon as passengers get off they forget everything about the ship. They usually agree that it was a nice experience, though.

The RMS Erotic is adults only and mainly delivers sex paraphernalia such as dildos, vibrators, buttplugs, whips, paddles, erotic publications etc. It is a Emperor's Children vessel, so most likely highly unethical things happen onboard!

The RMS Alcoholic is filled to the brim with booze. Its cargo hold contains all manner of alcoholic beverages, and every level of the ship has a bar or pub. For humans, there's drinks from different worlds, made from all sorts of different plants, and even drinks from the distant past, for alcohol can make its way into the far future through Warp portals.

For transhumans there's stronger drinks: warp moonshine made from jet fuel and tortured souls or something like that.

The crew has high alcohol tolerance so its okay if they drink on the job.

The RMS Pathetic looks pathetic, like its sagging. All the decor is depressing and the crew are bummed to be there. It's populated with sad, droopy daemons that look like they came out of a Salvador Dali painting. The food is bland and sad looking. Legend says the ship used to be prouder, but Perturabo yelled at the captain and it hasn't been the same since.

The RMS Elastic stretches and bounces back as it moves, like a giant rubber caterpillar. Onboard everything acts like rubber. People, furniture, machine components. Somehow all the machine components stretch like rubber and still work. The food is different types of taffy and gelatin. It's the place to go if your body needs to be stretched out.

Executions of unpopular public figures are a common sight on the RMS Antagonistic. It's one of the main attractions, and passengers will cheer on the brutal deaths of awful people from places they've never heard of before while wining and dining. It's obvious they deserved punishment!

The ship is equipped with a full weapons array, and captain will divert the ship to engage in space fights with people who obviously deserve to be fought if the mood strikes.

#warhammer 40k #chaos cultists

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middleearthpixie · 3 years ago

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Yule

Summary: It’s the first Yule after the reclamation of Erebor, and your first Yule with Thorin and you’re still in the are we/aren’t we stage…

Pairing: AU!Thorin x reader

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff.

Word Count: 3,512

A/N: For @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @laurfilijames @shalinizhara @thewarriorandtheking @lordoftherazzles @sketch-and-write-lover @tschrist1 @enchantzz because you all made this year a lot brighter and better! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! Love you guys!!

Snow swirled softly about you as you pulled your cloak tighter and turned your face away from the wind. Darkness fell early these days, and being out on the plains between Dale and Erebor wasn’t necessarily the safest place you could find yourself. Rumors of another orc pack coming down from the North swirled madly, although no one had yet to actually see any of them.

But it didn’t matter. You had to go into Dale and pick up a few last minutes gifts for everyone. It was the first Yule celebration since Thorin and the Company reclaimed Erebor, and it was especially meaningful because Thorin, Fili, and Kili nearly died at Ravenhill and that they didn't was a miracle in and of itself.

Thorin. Your heart beat a little faster at the very thought of the King Under the Mountain. The two of you had been growing closer over the last few weeks, and you thought there was something between you, but couldn’t quite figure out how to broach the subject with him. Part of your hesitation was that you were not a dwarf. You had come to Erebor to work with Bifur, who was recovering from an axe blade in the head and was slowly regaining his ability to speak Westron—or the Common Speech. You were a healer of sorts, one who specialized in speech, and while at first, things were difficult, your patience alone worked miracles with him.

For the first time in your life, you were truly happy and although you weren’t a dwarf, you felt more at home in Erebor than you ever did in Esgaroth, for many reasons.

You had just crossed into the city when a familiar, deep voice stopped you in your tracks. “You’re back late.”

You tucked your parcels beneath your cloak and turned to smile at Thorin. “Keeping track of me, are you?”

“Someone has to.”

“Oh, bother that,” you rolled your eyes, “as I need no keeper. I do quite well on my own, you know.”

“Where were you and why didn’t you take anyone with you?” He fell into step beside you and although you were of Man, he was still taller than you. You were of short man and he was of tall dwarf.

“Because I had gifts to buy and didn’t want anyone seeing them. Most of your Company cannot keep their mouths shut and I didn't want the surprise ruined.”

“I hope you didn’t go too mad with shopping. We have everything we need.”

“Yule isn’t about what you need,” you told him. “It’s about what you wish for. And what you wish to give others.”

He chuckled. “I thought it was for eating and drinking and being merry.”

“Well, that, too.” You stopped to face him. In the soft glow of the lights hanging high above their heads, he looked tired. Handsome, of course, but tired. He still bore the scar from a blade across his forehead, from his hairline to just above his right eyebrow, and dark smudges ringed beneath his pale blue eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I sleep every night.”

“Thorin.”

He sighed. “Very well. I’ve not slept soundly in months. I dream. But you already knew that.”

He said it so softly, you almost didn't hear him. But you understood that. He didn't want to be overheard. After all, the King Under the Mountain couldn’t very well show any weakness, could he? It made you want to roll your eyes, but that was just how men were, and so you didn’t. Instead, you tucked your arm through his and said, “Come with me. I have something for you.”

“Something? What sort of something?”

“I found it in Dale and thought it might help you, so I picked it up.” You set your parcels on the floor and sank to one knee to rummage through the shopping bags. There were three large bags, and of course, you found it at the bottom of the third. “Aha! Here it is.”

You shook and held out a long, narrow, rectangular box. “I’m sorry I’ve not had the chance to wrap it. I would have done so this evening, had I not been waylaid by a nosy King.”

He smiled as you pressed the box into his hand. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

He lifted the lid and then looked down at you with a puzzled expression. “What is it?” he repeated.

“It’s a lavender sleep mask.” You lifted it from its box and held it up against his eyes. “It fastens in the back and the lavender will soothe you and help you sleep better.”

He took it from you and smiled. “Will it actually work?”

“I find lavender to be very calming, so I hope so. And no one ever need know you’re using it.”

He tucked it back into its box. “Thank you. It was kind of you to think of me.”

You both stood there for a moment, not saying anything. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him, to tell him how you thought about him all the time, how you loved those nights spent up on the ramparts, talking about everything or sometimes just sitting in absolute, comfortable silence. You wanted to tell him how you worried for him and wanted to fuss over him and make his nightmares go away. You wanted to push up onto your toes and brush his lips with yours, to thread your fingers through his long, silver-streaked black curls, and feel the soft scrape of his beard against your jaw.

But you were friends and you didn't wish to ruin that by blurting out feelings he didn't share.

Then, he cleared his throat. “I—uh—I do have a gift for you. But, it’s in my chambers, so if you would come with me, I—uh—I can get it for you.”

“I should drop these off before anyone else happens upon us and sees them.” You gestured to the bags at your feet.

“Oh, right. Very well. It’ll keep until the bonfire. So, I’ll see you then,” he stepped back, “and thank you for the mask.”

To your disappointment, he didn't give you a chance to protest, but turned and strode off, most likely in the directions of his apartments, which were several levels below your own. With a sigh, you gathered up your parcels and made your way to your own chambers, where you could wrap and tag the gifts you’d bought: a sketchpad and new charcoal for Ori, a tin of tea and a new tea ball for Dori, a book on the history of pickpockets for Nori, a book of recipes for Bombur, a book on Westron for Bifur, a new tin flute for Bofur, a whetstone for Dwalin, a book on the history of toy making for Balin, a new ear trumpet for Óin, a folio for Glóin to keep his pictures of his wife and little boy in, a new dagger for Fili, and for Kili, you’d found a larger quiver for his arrows.

Of course, you’d been shopping over the course of the last few months, and today’s trek was mostly for Thorin. You wanted his first Yule back in Erebor to be as special as you could make it, and the sleep mask was really only an impulse buy. You knew he’d been having trouble sleeping and you were fairly certain you were the only one who knew it. You didn’t quite know how it happened, but he apparently found you easy to talk to and since that first night when you happened upon you up on the ramparts, where he opened up about things you had the feeling he’d never told anyone. And those things would stay between you and him until the end of time as well. He could trust you and you mad certain he knew that. You valued his friendship, even as you hoped for something you were certain would never come to pass.

Thorin stared down at the sleep mask in his hands, touched by your gesture of concern. You had no idea how important you’d become to him and he had no idea how to tell you. He knew Bifur had a crush on you, but not only was Bifur too shy to say anything, his nerves would make it impossible for him to say it in Westron anyway, for ever since his head injury, he spoke mostly in khuzdul, even though his speech was improving.

Well, Bifur wasn’t the only one. Thorin couldn’t stop thinking about you. But, why would you ever want him in return? A damaged king, who’d nearly sacrificed his own people out of his selfish love of gold, who awoke most nights in a cold sweat, with a racing heart and on occasion, woke up screaming. Given the choice between a man who could only express his feelings in a language you could wholly learn and one who was a shell of what he’d once been? Thorin knew he couldn’t compete.

Still, he couldn’t control the flares of jealousy, the way his gut knotted any time he saw you and Bifur sitting, heads bent together, as you worked on his speech. You were so comfortable with Bifur, your hand coming to rest on his forearm, your laughter ringing out at whatever it might be he said to you. It took every ounce of restrain to not force his way between the two of you.

But, maybe at the bonfire, after a few tankards of mead, he’d work up the courage to take the chance and find out. Or at least, he hoped he would.

The bonfire was to begin at half-eight and you could barely carry everything out to where it had been set up out in the courtyard. It was a delicate balancing act for you, and you failed as the topmost box slipped from the stack in your arms.

“Got it!”

You peered around at Bifur and smiled. “Thank you so much!”

He smiled back, but above his beard, a slow flush crept along his cheekbones and as he took the small box, he bobbed his head and when her replied, it was in khuzdul, of which you spoke enough to carry on a simple conversation, but not much more.

He gestured to the other boxes that slid this way and slipped that way and had you constantly shifting to try to hold onto. He paused, cleared his throat, and asked, “May I?” very slowly.

“Of course. I appreciate it.”

He slipped the top five boxes from your stack and arranged them to make it easier for him to carry. You glanced over at him. Ever since he’d lost the axe that had been embedded in his head, he’d begun to regain his memory of how to speak Westron but like one who stuttered, he had to be careful in speaking it. He’d come such a long way since then, but you’d noticed that when he became flustered or excited over something, he lapsed back into khuzdul.

“You don’t have to take that many.”

You tried to take several back, only to have him half-spin away from you. “No. I don’t wish to see you hurt yourself.”

“Oh, that was really good, Bifur!” You nudged him with your shoulder.

He laughed, stumbling to his right. “Take care. Is anything here breakable?”

“Two sentences again… I’m impressed.” You winked to show you were only teasing. Everyone took great pains to make sure he knew he wasn’t being mocked and the last thing you wanted was to have him think otherwise.

He looked over at you, only this time, when he replied, you understood only a few words. He turned red and his gaze fell to the ground.

Drat it. You stopped. “It’s all right. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have teased you that way.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s—it’s all… right. I know you… meant no harm.”

“Bifur!” His cousin Bofur came bounding thorough the snow toward you. “You coulda taken all the boxes from her, you know!”

As he spoke, Bofur relieved you of the rest of the parcels and moved to stow them with the mounds of gifts on one table. Bifur glanced back over his shoulder at you as he followed his cousin and you felt more than a little guilty at the blush staining above his black beard once more.

“He has a crush on you.”

This came from behind you and a moment later, Thorin stood beside you, looking more handsome than you’d ever seen, in a heavy fur and leather coat. His hair looked freshly washed and combed, the single braids on either side of his head smooth and decorated with heavy-looking silver runes. The silver ear cuff on his left ear looked recently polished, as did the ornament he wore at the back of his head to keep his heavy fall of silver-streaked dark waves out of his face.

Snow fell once more, and there were already several inches on the ground, but it had been packed down by the the dwarves responsible for setting up for the festivities. Still, you looked up at Thorin to see white flakes settling in his hair, in his heavy dark beard, in the fur of his coat. “I would beg to differ.”

“He doesn’t lapse into khuzdul amongst us unless he’s agitated about something. But around you? He couldn’t remember Westron if he tried sometimes.”

“I think he thought I was making fun of him,” you confessed.

He shook his head. “Trust me, he doesn’t think that at all. Even if you were, he wouldn’t think it.”

You crunched across the snow to a table near the bonfire as the cold bit into you. Unlike the dwarves, you weren’t built for such cold and no matter how many layers you wore, you still felt its sharp bite.

Thorin followed you. “Walk with me a minute?”

“Of course.” You smiled over your shoulder at him. “But, let me get your gift first. I really don’t want anyone else around when you open it.”

He offered up a confused look. “You already gave it to me.”

“No. That wasn’t it.” You moved to the scattering of gifts and picked through them until you found the one you’d wrapped for him in blue and silver foiled paper. “Aha!”

You plucked it up and turned to him, adding, “I just saw that and thought it might help you. That’s why I got it.”

“Really?”

“Well, yes.” You shrugged. “A king should sleep soundly.”

He smiled, then seemed to hesitate for a moment, then offered you his arm. “Come.”

You slipped your arm through his and let him lead you away from the festivities, where the others had gathered and were now singing, led by Bofur, who had an amazingly beautiful voice. The sounds died away as you and Thorin strolled skirted the pond that was now frozen over and would see ice skating come morning, and neared the thick woods to the west, and the only sound you heard now was that of softly shifting snow. It was a beautiful winter’s night and as you strolled along, the snow stopped, the clouds parted and once more, stars sparkled across the night sky. How many nights did you find yourself up on the rampart, unable to sleep, just gazing at the endless spangle overhead? That was how you and the King Under the Mountain became friends—you happen upon him one night, also unable to sleep, and got to talking about anything and everything. Since then, you’d lost count of how many nights you spent this way, but you hadn’t forgotten how much they’d come to mean to you.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” you said, tugging gently on his arm. “What is it?”

He stopped then and faced you. “I wanted to say thank you, for all you’ve done. For me. For Bifur. For the others. We have appreciated having you here, but— ”

He paused and a look of discomfort flitted across his face. Somehow, you just knew what he was going to say. He was going to remind you that Men and daughters of Men had no place in Erebor and although he owed you a debt of gratitude for saving his nephews and for what you were doing with Bifur, he was going to have to ask you to take your leave of Erebor.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to will away the tears threatening to burn holes in the backs of your eyeballs. “But what?”

“But… I—” He broke your gaze, turning his somewhere over your left shoulder. “I—”

“I understand,” you interrupted softly.

“You understand?” His brow furrowed and he met your gaze once more. “Understand what? I haven’t said it yet.”

“You wish me to go. I’ve known it was coming. I don’t belong here no matter how I try to fit in. So, I’ll—”

“No!” He caught you by the upper arms, shaking his head. “No, that isn’t what I was going to say at all. I don’t wish you to leave. None of us do, but I especially want you to—to stay with me.”

You stared up at him. “What?”

He swallowed hard and nodded, then released you to reach into his coat, from which he withdrew a narrow box covered in rich, royal blue velvet. “Happy Yule.”

You took the box, staring first at him, then at it, and back up at him. “Thorin?”

“Open it.” He gently nudged the box toward you.

The lid opened with the softest of creaks and you stared down at the delicate silver and diamond bracelet sparkling up at you from a bed of velvet that was even whiter than the snow falling about you. You just stared—first at it, then up at him. “Thorin? What is this?”

A hint of a blush spread above his beard, along his cheekbones as he lifted the bracelet, which looked even more delicate in his giant paws. “I thought the stones would suit you because I know how you love the stars in the night sky and that’s what these reminded me of. Let’s see if it fits.”

He held the bracelet in one hand and caught your left hand with the other to pull it toward him, then frowned as it took three attempts to get the clasp open with his thick fingers. But then he opened it and fastened it about your wrist.

“Thorin.”

He caught your hand in his, his gaze focused on the bracelet sparkling on your wrist. “I—I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now, but I didn't know how, but… I’ve valued our friendship and I’ve hesitated to say anything because I don’t want to ruin it, but…” He took a deep breath and looked up to meet your eyes. “Mahal, this is difficult…”

You smiled, pressing your lips together as your heartbeat sped up. Then, you pushed up on your toes and caught his lips with yours. At first, he went still, but then his free arm slid about your waist and he pulled you into him, his lips parting, his tongue touching yours to make your toes curl in your heavy boots.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, and when he pulled back, a sheepish smile played at his lips. “That was not difficult,” he murmured.

“I think you should do it again,” you whispered back. “But after you open my gift.”

With that, you held out the small parcel wrapped in silver and blue foiled paper. He carefully unwrapped it and smiled as he lifted the lid on the box and then lifted the leather cord bearing a silver medallion. “What is it?”

“It’s a dove, to remind you that there is always hope. I know sometimes you are overwhelmed by what happened at Ravenhill, at the demons that haunt you from your past and plague your sleep, but you are here and as long as you are, you have hope. And as long as you’re here, and as long as you want me here, I will be here as well.”

His eyes softened as they met yours. “Do you wish to be here? With me?”

You nodded. “Always. I was just too scared to say anything. You’re the king and I’m… nobody…”

He held out the medallion. “Put it on me?”

You took it and eased it the cord over his head. He smiled as he tucked it into his tunic, then caught you around the waist, pulled you closer, and murmured, “And you are not nobody, mesmel, so I don’t want to hear that again. This is the first of what I hope will be many Yules spent together.”

“Many Yules?”

“Oh, definitely.”

He smiled and leaned back to you and when your lips met, you wound your arms about his neck and pulled him closer still.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU #short fic #short hobbit fic #short thorin fic #Thorin x reader #Yule #Merry Xmas 2021

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hlizr50 · 3 years ago

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Aggressive Affirmation

My first Elorcan fic, y'all. And it's smut.

It wasn't supposed to be smutty, but things escalated.

I'm not sorry.

Lorcan is sick and tired of Elide not acknowledging the incredible things that she has done. She doesn't give herself enough credit, doesn't see what she has to offer the home she hopes to rebuild. Lorcan encourages her to admit that she is intelligent, brave, and strong.

Read on AO3

Lorcan hadn’t even attempted to hide his wide grin when Elide had agreed to ride with him. It still surprised him that he could feel so carefree with her, so comfortable with letting his emotions dance across his features. But it was only for her. She had torn down every wall, crashed through every locked door, even faced death to earn his vulnerability. And he would pay it back in spades.

The midnight-haired beauty had rolled her eyes, still seemingly unaware of how her proximity to him could spark such an exuberant reaction. Lorcan found it difficult to understand how she didn’t presume she was the most incredible thing to have happened in the many years of his life, a strong woman in possession of near-bottomless bravery, fierce intelligence, and unbreakable dedication to the people and land she loved.

The journey would not be the longest they had together, though it would most certainly be the safest. Lorcan allowed himself to relax, as much as he could, and enjoy the feeling of the woman wrapped in his arms.

His wife.

The last time they had ridden like this he had been at death’s door, Elide urging the mount onward toward the keep at Anielle. What a relief it was to be with her now – to wrap his arms around her. As if to remind himself of what she felt like, his hand widened across her stomach, fingers stretching to feel as much of her as he could. Lorcan was pleased to find that her ribs were no longer so present below the tunic she wore, their time in Orynth slowly erasing the effects of months – perhaps years – of scarce food and near constant fear.

Soft strands, black as his own, brushed over his hands as he held Elide tighter against him. She turned her head, tilting her chin up to cast him a sidelong glance.

“What are you doing?” Her question was reflected in those fathomless eyes that he swore he could drown in. Lorcan grinned, dipping his chin to brush his lips over her forehead.

“Just thinking, wife,” he answered. “Of the last time we were on a horse like this, after you rode out into hell even when the mightiest of soldiers were retreating into that keep.” Elide’s lashes lowered as she looked away, as she often did when confronted with her own strength. “And how you thought up the plan that would defeat Erawan. And how you ran him through to keep him immobile so Yrene could finish him off.”

Silence was his only answer.

Lorcan sighed but let the quiet persist. His thumb traced back and forth over her abdomen, a motion that was meant to be soothing to her, but seemed to bring him comfort, as well. A spring breeze whispered past them, carrying the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves on the trees lining the road. And echoing louder than any of the sounds of their journey was his wife’s silence.

“Elide.”

She didn’t answer, but she turned her head again and traced her fingers over his forearm.

“What’s wrong?” he prodded.

“Nothing,” she murmured, even as he felt her tense against his chest.

“You lie,” Lorcan crooned. “I know you better than I used to, Elide. You may be the cunning liar that thawed my cold heart, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it go. Tell me what’s bothering you.” His wife heaved a sigh, sagging into him.

“I am… anxious. About returning to Perranth,” she mumbled, turning her face forward again. His brows furrowed, lips pursing in confusion. Returning home, finding her queen, and rebuilding the city had been her aim as long as he’d known her – likely far longer.

“Tell me why.”

And just like that her back was straight again, shoulders tense, the small space between their bodies like a chasm. Lorcan’s eyes narrowed.

“Elide.”

Still she didn’t answer.

And judging from her reaction to his praise moments before, knowing her, Lorcan had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why she was hesitant. It grated against him, how little she thought of herself – how she refused to acknowledge her many feats of bravery and strength.

A snarl rumbled through his chest as he swung down from the saddle. He grabbed Elide before she had the chance to give a startled yelp and tossed her, gently, over his shoulder.

“Lorcan! What in the gods names are you doing?!” she shrieked. Ignoring her protest, he turned to their travel companions and dipped his chin.

“We’ll catch up,” he grumbled with a scowl before stalking off toward the tree line. This nonsense needed to end, sooner rather than later.

“Lorcan Lochan, you put me down this instant!”

His lips ticked up at his new surname, and he was glad she couldn’t see his amusement. He found a small clearing, a boulder jutting out of the grass. Schooling his features, he carried the still-grumbling woman to the rock, pulling her back over his shoulder and plopping her gently atop it.

“Why?” he demanded, eyes boring into her midnight pools that darkened with confusion. Lorcan released a frustrated sigh. “Why don’t you see your own worth, Elide?” He studied her with a frown as her eyes widened and her lips parted in a gasp.

“Lorcan?” she breathed. He ran a hand through hair that had become unruly in his less-than-graceful prowl into the woods. Then, taking a deep breath, he cupped her cheeks, allowing callused thumbs to graze over her high cheekbones.

“Do you think you’re strong, Elide?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at him, uncertainty painted across her pale features. Her answer, however, came quickly and assuredly – proof to the male that her belief was deep and unyielding.

“No.”

Lorcan flinched.

He lowered his gaze, doing all in his power to keep his breathing even. It was all he could do not to pace across the clearing in anger and frustration. “Elide-“

“I’m a cripple, Lorcan.” Her voice trembled slightly, and his eyes shot back to hers. They were hard. Uncompromising. As if her perceived weakness was just an unfortunate truth that she had come to terms with. Gods, it enraged him so – that she had practically been raised to believe that she had such little value. “I can barely walk, much less fight. I was a prisoner in my own home. For years. And after that I was little more than a slave. For ten years I was only allowed to live because someone else willed it. And in those ten years I did nothing for Perranth, for Terrasen. And what have I to offer now?” Lorcan cursed the shimmer of silver in her lashes as she pulled his hands away from her face and lowered her chin.

“I can’t even read, Lorcan,” she whispered wetly, her delicate hands clutching his. With a growl he pulled his hands away, fisting them in his hair as he, indeed, began stalking back and forth across the clearing. His ire was a living thing, writhing under his skin. What he would give to have her uncle in front of him now, so Lorcan could tear him apart like he deserved.

“Are you angry with me?”

The roaring in his head ceased in an instant, the timid question ringing clear as a bell through the heat boiling in his blood. He practically ran back to her, grabbing her face again.

“I’m not angry with you, love. Never. But it is absolutely infuriating that you believe it. That you have been made to believe it” Lorcan leaned pressed his forehead against hers. “You, Elide Lochan, are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. I have fought beside fae and humans, men and women, the legendary and the ordinary. You are brave and strong and so incredibly clever.”

The lithe woman in his grasp opened her mouth to argue, but he pushed her chin back up.

“It…” He swallowed, realizing the vulnerability he was about to show. “It hurts me, Elide. When you just dismiss all the amazing things you’ve done. When you speak as if you have nothing to offer your queen, your home. When I found you, you were walking to Terrasen. And I have no doubt you would have made it. You picked up an axe against the Ilken. You rode out into the hell of Anielle in the face of certain death. You concocted the plan that defeated Erawan. Someone who is weak would not have done any of those things.”

Elide’s eyes bore into his, wide and shimmering. He leaned away, trailing his hands down her arms until he could link their fingers. Lorcan didn’t dare break that gaze, didn’t want to.

“Please. Please, try to acknowledge that. For me.”

“Well that’s not fair,” she laughed, tilting her head back. “Not when you put it that way.”

“I never said I would fight fair, wife,” Lorcan chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss, moaning when she immediately opened up to him. He explored her with his tongue – he would never get tired of her mouth on his.

Elide pulled back, breathing ragged. “We should probably get back,” she sighed. “They probably think we’re doing any number of questionable things.”

His large hands found her hips and tugged her to him, earning a startled giggle. “Well I would hate for them to be wrong.” He kissed her again, sliding his fingers below the band of her breeches. She gasped against his lips, and he snickered in response.

“Lorcan,” she hissed as his lips moved to her jaw, planting kisses up the sharp line. A murmured ‘mmmm’ was his only response as his fingers deftly unknotted the ties to her pants. “Lorcan, people will talk!”

“Let them talk.” His voice was like silk against the shell of her ear. “There is nothing wrong with a male wanting to pleasure his wife.” Elide’s hands fisted his hair, and he slid a hand between her legs to dip a finger into her. He felt her soft cry vibrate against his lips at her throat as his finger slid further, finding heat and wetness. “It would seem that your protests aren’t entirely heartfelt, Elide,” he purred against her neck, inserting a second finger.

“Oh Gods!” she panted. With a growl, he lifted his head and crushed his mouth over hers – a possessive, demanding kiss. He pistoned his fingers inside her, bringing the heels of his palm to rub against that sensitive bud. She mewled against his lips, and he pumped his fingers deeper as he swallowed every gasp and moan that lifted from her throat. Lorcan pulled back, watching Elide’s delicate flushed features lift and scrunch, reacting to the pleasure he was giving her. He wrapped his arm around her, supporting the small of her back with a hand that nearly spread the entire width of her body. When he brushed his callused thumb over that bundle of nerves, he felt her body tremor against him.

“How do you feel, wife?” he snickered, fingers never faltering. Her breathing became increasingly erratic, those little noises growing more frantic.

“Godsdammit,” she cried. He plunged his fingers as deep as they could go and held them there, then flicked his thumb across her again. Her hips bucked as she howled.

“If you want to cum, you will do as I say,” Lorcan growled, a feral grin spreading his lips. “Do you want to cum, Elide?” He wiggled his fingers inside her for emphasis.

“Yes! Gods, Lorcan,” she groaned. He started pumping inside her again, slowly and deliberately. He leaned in so his lips brushed right under her ear.

“Tell me that you are brave, Elide,” he crooned, continuing his ministrations.

“Wh-what?” Elide panted, pleasure and arousal clouding her comprehension of his request. He flicked his thumb over her again, her body convulsing.

“Tell. Me,” he demanded. He could feel her body shuddering around him, and he kept his rhythm slow and steady, drawing out her pleasure and forcing her to wait for her release.

“I- I’m brave!” Her voice cracked as her breath sawed in and out of her. “Lorcan!”

“Tell me you’re intelligent,” he murmured, pace increasing ever so slightly. Elide moaned, a guttural sound from her chest.

“I’m intelligent! Gods, please Lorcan,” she begged. Her fingers clung desperately to his shoulders, and he felt her trembling as she rode his hand.

“Tell me that you are strong, Elide.” His mouth dipped to the soft, sensitive skin below her ear, suckling there as he curled his fingers inside her. “Say it, love.”

“I- I… I am strong!” she gasped. Satisfaction rumbled through his chest. Her frantic pants surrounded him as he unleashed himself, long fingers pumping and thumb grinding into her most sensitive spot.

“Yes, you are. Now cum for me,” Lorcan groaned against her before lifting his head, watching his wife as she rode his fingers. A reverent smile graced his features as she finally found her release with a hoarse scream. Pulling her panting form against him he tucked her head under his chin, a hand stroking through her hair and over her back while he pulled his other hand away from between her thighs. “You are strong. You are beautiful. Perranth is lucky to have such a woman to lead them, and the world is fortunate that you saw fit to help save it. Never forget that.” He pressed his lips to her hair as he listened to her breathing return to normal.

“I love you, Lorcan Lochan.” Elide’s contented sigh vibrated against his chest, dainty fingers tracing soft paths over his stomach. How long had he lived, never knowing that happiness like this could exist for him?

“I love hearing that name. Knowing it’s mine.” Lorcan pushed her shoulders, gently pulling them apart so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Elida Lochan.” Reaching down, he tightened the laces to her breeches. He knew the rest of the ride probably wouldn’t be the most comfortable, and he cursed inwardly that he had been so impatient that he hadn’t at least thought that it would be better to just take them off. “We’ll find an inn tonight. Get you a proper bath. Get these clothes washed.”

A dusting of pink colored her cheeks, realization of why she would need those things heating her face. Lorcan chuckled and stood, letting a hand graze her jaw and tuck a lock of onyx silk behind her ear. “Come, wife,” he declared as he swept her up in his arms, cradling Elide against him as he started walking toward the road. She giggled, winding her arms around his neck and craning to plant a kiss on his cheek. Lorcan smiled down at her, grateful for the path that had led him to her. Grateful that their futures were forever intertwined.

“Let’s get you home, Lady of Perranth.”

Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430

*NOTE* I used the tag list that I have used for all my other fanfic posts, but those have all been ACOTAR. If you would like to not be tagged in Throne of Glass or From Blood and Ash posts, please let me know. Otherwise, I will continue to use the same tag list for all of my fanfic posts!

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #elorcan #Elorcan fanfiction #Elorcan smut #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Spooked

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Thanks for sending it in, I had so much fun with it! :)

Pairing: best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: they are touring a haunted house, so there’s gonna be some scary story/spooky things going on. hopefully there’s enough fun things/fluff to counter it?

a/n: this was longer than I expected it to be...but I was having fun with ot7. hopefully nobody minds lol

It wasn't your fault that Hobi had never seen "A Quiet Place". He had mentioned it as you scrolled through the options on his TV while lounging on his couch like an overgrown cat. Everyone else was in the process of scarfing down their dinner, popping popcorn, and laughing over whatever Jimin and Yoongi were bickering about.

Obviously you had to watch it.

Naturally, the conversation had drifted to a bit more spooky topics. You'd come back from grabbing more popcorn surprised to find Jin talking about his friend that wanted to open up a house they'd inherited for ghost tours.

After nudging Jimin out of the way, you took up your usual spot next to Taehyung. They all watch you with amused eyes, knowing full well that Taehyung is the only one that willingly scratches your back on movie nights.

"Really, like is it the kind of haunted house where people dress up and scare you?" Jungkook asked, his interest piqued.

Jin shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds like they just walk you through the house and tell stories and stuff."

You and Jungkook share a look, already thinking the same thing. A glance at Hobi shows him clutching a blanket to his chest, caught between the events of the film and the conversation taking place.

"We should go," you ventured, immediately earning a startled stare from both Jin and Hobi. The others chuckle in response, Namjoon swatting Jungkook's hand half-heartedly as he tries to steal more popcorn from him.

"...noooo," Jin began. "It's not like it's up and running yet, they're just working on getting it ready for the fall-"

Jungkook picks up where you left off. "Perfect! We can be their test group. That way they'll know what they can do for the general public, get an idea of what works and what doesn't."

You jump in again before Jin can protest more. "C'mon! And besides, this may be your only chance just to go for fun! Otherwise you'd have to find a way to go without running into all of those people, and have to contact management about it..."

Jin sighs, looking at Hobi who stares back at him with an expression of defeat. You grin, Taehyung chuckling beside you.

"Fine."

It was all too easy. Standing here now, you can see just why they want to open this up for ghost tours. Of course you won't admit it, but you already have chills running down your spine.

Or maybe that's just because Jung Hoseok is currently breathing down your neck.

"Alright," Jin's friend, Gina stands at the top of the steps, smiling down at you all. "Everybody ready?"

Jungkook and Taehyung, completely riled up, let out whoops and cheers while everyone else grunts in acknowledgement. Hobi clings to the back of your jacket, whimpering like a lost puppy.

This should be fun.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wait for everyone else, heading straight inside after Gina. Taehyung and Jimin are hot on his heels, joking about something back and forth. You follow after them, glancing back at Hobi with an amused grin.

"Oh," he realizes that he's still clinging to you. "Right." Extracting his hand from your jacket, he lets you move forward. He remains close behind you, Jin at his side.

Namjoon and Yoongi bring up the rear, hardly paying attention to anything that's going on as they chat about a business they saw not far from here.

"We'll begin in the front study here," Gina adopts a spooky tone as she stands in the candlelight. Shadows dance along the walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Suddenly you wish that Hobi was still holding onto you.

Slowly, so as to not draw the attention (and teasing) of the maknae line, you step back until you're between Namjoon and Yoongi.

The two of them smirk down at you, knowing full well that you're already spooked.

"What are you doing?" Jin whispers back to you, eyes wide while he rubs his arms as though he's cold. "Trying to abandon us to the ghosts?"

You shake your head fervently, hoping that they don't notice the way you're sneaking your hand into the pocket of Yoongi's jacket.

"No, the middle is the safest place," you argue. Yoongi gives a breathy chuckle beside you, his hand finding yours in the warmth of his pocket and giving it a squeeze. Thankfully the house is dark enough that the blush on your cheeks shouldn't be visible.

Absentmindedly you link your other arm through Namjoon's, hardly able to breathe properly when he instinctively moves closer.

What were you even saying?

"A-and now you've got three in front and three in back. You're totally safe."

Hobi and Jin look at each other like they know exactly what you’re up to, but don't push it as they suddenly begin walking again. Gina leads the way toward the dining room, weaving a tale of how the estranged wife of the owner of the house swore she would never leave the property.

"Did she?" Jungkook asks from the front, peeking in closed off rooms along the way. You can't help but marvel at his fearlessness.

Gina's eyes glow with excitement, almost as though she were waiting for someone to ask that. "No. Years later, when the owner sold the house, the new occupants said they found a sealed off room in the basement." You gasp, the sound echoing through the hallway. You miss the look Jimin gives you, too attached to the story.

"What..." you clutch Namjoon's arm, the fabric of his jacket bunching in your hand. "Did they ever open up the room?"

Gina grins. "They did. They hired someone to come and open the sealed door. However, the man they hired only got about halfway before quitting. He was terrified."

Yoongi leans down to whisper in your ear. "Are you trying to cut off my circulation?"

It's only then that you notice you've been squeezing his hand with startling strength. "Whoops." Going to remove your hand from his, he frowns, holding it tighter before you can move.

Well, if this isn't a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Why was he so scared?" Namjoon pipes up beside you, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he reads the expression on your face. Oh, you're so screwed. "Did he find something?"

"It's not so much what he found as what he didn't," Gina replies. "But we'll have to save that for last. For now, the dining room. Come on in, everyone."

Hobi looks back at you, a mixture of horror and overall curiosity on his face. “Oh, she’s good.”

Indeed, Gina definitely seems to have a way with words. You’re just having a hard time understanding them as your heart beats loudly enough to drown out any other noises. Yoongi has taken to tracing circles on the back of your hand, which you think are meant to be soothing.

It only serves to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You stare at the portrait on the far end of the dining room, practically boring holes into the painting of the young woman.

Breathe, don’t do anything stupid.

“...alright?”

You blink, finding yourself to be the sudden center of attention. Jungkook grins widely at you.

“What?”

Jungkook repeats his question. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. “That’s not an answer, jagiya. Need us to protect you from the ghosts?”

Your wide eyes immediately give you away, and even Gina is offering you a look of pity before deciding to continue on with the tour. Before you embarrass yourself even more, you slip out of Yoongi and Namjoon’s grasp, sneaking up behind Jin and Hobi.

“Hello boys,” you drawl, making Hobi nearly jump out of his skin. You earn a laugh from the group, Jin chuckling at his scared friend. Hobi just glares at you.

“This sucks,” he whispers to you, pulling you up to stand between him and Jin. Immediately they stick to your sides like magnets and you realize that you have indeed done something stupid as Jin’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he goes to whisper something to you.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Your heart certainly agrees.

“I’m not scared, you know,” Jin whispers. You take a deep breath, reminded yourself that these idiots are your best friends, not menu items.

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

He grins at you, eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. “You’ll see.”

Tearing your eyes away from his and hearing his deep chuckle, you wonder if it’s too late to ask Gina where the nearest exit is.

Don’t do anything stupid.

“Shall we head up to the attic?” Gina asks. “It’s a small space, we can only go three at a time. However, there are some really interesting old photographs up there that we should look at.”

In the blink of an eye everyone is paired off, and you find yourself face to face with Jimin. He grins at you like the Cheshire Cat, making you wonder if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this house.

Jin and Hobi have the glorious opportunity to go up together while Gina leads the way, and several screams accompany their little trip. In the middle of the candlelight in the hallway, you chuckle with the rest of your friends.

“It’s been interesting so far,” Jungkook muses. “I really want to know what they found in that sealed off basement room.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Mmm. Or rather, what they didn’t find.”

“What does that even mean?”

Nobody is given a chance to answer Jungkook’s question as Hobi and Jin come scrambling down the ladder, faces pale even as they laugh. Gina chuckles from above, beckoning the next pair to come up.

Jimin looks at you with an arched brow. “Wanna go next?”

“Sure.” You follow him up the ladder, laughing as Jin recounts how he swore the woman in the photograph blinked.

The attic is filled with moonlight, and under other circumstances it might be pretty. However, amongst the old heirlooms sits an ominous scrapbook, filled with black and white photos of less-than-happy people.

Jimin reaches down, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet as you look around. When he lets go you aren’t sure whether or not to be disappointed.

You’ve hardly made up your mind when he leads you to where Gina stands beside the scrapbook and slips behind you. A moment later his arms encircle your waist, chin propped up on your shoulder.

So there’s that.

Gina points to the first photo, a grim-looking man standing behind a chair where a young woman sits smiling. “This is the estranged wife, before she was estranged, of course. And this is the owner of the house. From what we’ve been able to dig up about his past - no pun intended - he was always deathly serious.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations going straight into your spine. Unsure of what to do with your arms, you gently place them atop his arms around your middle.

You swear he smiles for a moment before turning pensive again. “Why did they separate?” You manage to ask, applauding yourself for getting a complete sentence out while Park Jimin hugs you from behind.

“Rumor has it she cheated on him with his best friend,” Gina whispers, pointing to another photo where the solemn owner stands beside a smiling man. “He was driven mad with jealousy. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Gina gives you a long look, and suddenly you straighten your spine. “I-uh, yeah. Horrible.”

She shows us another photo, explaining something about it while Jimin mumbles out a couple of questions. You hardly process any of it, staring at Gina and wondering if she thinks that you are somehow cheating.

But on who? Jin, maybe? Since that’s her friend?

“Alright, send up the next pair,” Gina croons. Jimin detaches himself from you, suddenly leaving you cold. You turn to follow him, but stop as Gina places a hand on your arm.

“Yes?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone even. Gina motions for Jimin to keep going, pulling you back to the scrapbook. She tilts her head to one side.

“Forgive me for maybe overstepping a boundary but...” she motions toward the ladder, where everyone waits below. “Don’t tell me you’re flirting with all of them.”

Your eyes widen, and a breathy laugh comes out. “Me? What? N-no. They’re my best friends, why would I-”

Gina laughs, the sound too loud for the small attic. “Well, they’re flirting with you.” She playfully elbows me. “Speaking from girl to girl...enjoy it. For the rest of us.”

Nearly choking, you frown but nod all the same. “...ok?” When she makes no move to say anything else, you head down the ladder. The boys look up at me with confused looks, Jimin waiting at the bottom to make sure you get down safely.

“What was that about?” Jin asks, looking a little nervous. “She didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable, did she?”

You blink at him, wondering for a moment if the boys have always been like this around you. Surely not. It’s just the haunted house bringing out this protective side, right?

Right?

“No, she just wanted to show me something else. She’s actually really nice.” You think.

The other groups go up, and nothing else happens to pique your interest. Gina comes down last of all, giving you a wink before walking down the hallway.

“I think we’re ready to go down to the basement, everyone!”

Somehow you end up at the front, surrounded on all sides by the maknae line. You crane your neck, looking back to see the older boys all lost in a heated discussion. Hobi catches your eye after a moment, elbowing Namjoon who looks up at you with fake innocence.

You frown, Gina’s words coming back to you. “They’re flirting with you.”

You must have lost your mind. Was the haunted house really that traumatizing as to make you start coming up with such ridiculous things? How silly of you.

The feeling of a hand resting on the small of your back has you yelping, jumping to face forward again. Taehyung gives you a sheepish grin.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing you forward to stand in front of him. “Are you really that spooked?”

“I...no.” You fail to come up with a complete sentence, but shrug it off. Taehyung smiles brightly at you, gesturing for you to head down the stairs.

“You seem distracted tonight, are you alright?”

The way your heart had begun palpitating calms down as you notice the obvious concern on Taehyung’s face. You give him a small smile, allowing yourself to relish the feeling of his fingers splayed against your back as you move down the stairs.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just distracted by the story.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment longer, not quite believing you but shrugging it off. He brings both hands to your shoulders as you enter the basement, an obvious chill in the air.

You fight off a shiver, Taehyung noticing and beginning to rub at your arms in an attempt to warm you up. Gina immediately notices the action, hiding a smile as she pretends to cough.

“Well,” she says once her ‘coughing fit’ subsides. “We’ve made it to the final leg of the tour. How’s it been so far?”

This time everyone cheers with renewed vigor, although a part of you has a hunch that it’s because Hobi knows he’s nearing the end of this scary experience. The thought makes you grin.

“Earlier, you guys asked me what was found in the sealed off room. It’s easier to show you, rather than explain.” Gina walks backward, motioning for everyone to follow her. It’s darker down here, only a few candles light the way. Despite being surrounded by people you trust, you can’t fight the fear that sneaks inside of you.

Rounding a corner, you see a small hallway with a half-open door. Jin curses behind you, clearly feeling just as freaked out as you.

“Remember how the estranged wife said she’d never leave this place?” Gina nods toward the door and dark entryway. “In that room there’s evidence that she may have had an...extended stay here. It’s very small, and the door only opens to a certain point. Almost as though whoever designed it didn’t want to have an easy escape point.”

Chills run down your spine, and even Taehyung’s ministrations pause for a moment as he takes in this new information.

Jungkook speaks up, ever the curious one. “Wait...her body isn’t still here, right?”

Gina shakes her head. “No, although we think that she may have been buried somewhere on the property. We have yet to find her, though.”

“That...” you shake your head, shuffling from foot to foot. “That sounds so ominous. Like she still walks the property or something.”

The smile Gina sends you is enough to make your blood run cold. “We haven’t ruled anything out.” She gestures toward the door. “Due to fire hazards, we can only have two people at a time in the hallway and in the room. Do I have any volunteers?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up in the air, and he looks at his hyungs pleadingly. You remain still as a statue, refusing to look up for fear of being called on.

You swear you can almost hear Taehyung sigh before he speaks. “Well, obviously you have to go.” He nudges you forward, and you whirl on him in absolute horror.

“What?!” You shout. “How could you betray me like this?! I- no way!”

The boys can’t help but laugh at you, Namjoon clapping Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung gives you an apologetic look, shrugging.

“C’mon, I’ll keep you safe,” Jungkook promises, his big pleading eyes on yours.

You hate how you can never say no to him.

Gina pats your shoulder as you walk past, laughing lightly. “Have fun,” she croons. “Ok everyone, let’s go into the open area just around the corner-”

“You’re leaving us?!” You shout again, stopping in your tracks. “Noooo, no no. Not happening.”

“Jungkook will take care of you,” Yoongi says over his shoulder. “Or do you not trust him?”

Jungkook pauses, looking at you with those big brown eyes. “You don’t trust me?”

Yoongi chuckles darkly before leaving the hallway, and you know he’s aware of what he did. You’ll have to make him pay for it later.

Possibly in the form of food.

“No, I do Kook,” you sigh. He extends his hand out to you, waiting patiently.

You take it a little too quickly.

Gina was right, the door only opens to a certain point, leaving you no choice but to shimmy through. Jungkook inspects the entire area, pointing out what looks to be scratches on the doorframe. You shiver.

“It’s not real,” he reassures you, keeping his hand in yours as he shimmies into the room. You hesitate for a moment, daring to glance at where your hands are connected before following after him.

It’s nearly pitch black in the room, hardly allowing for you to see anything. “Can you even see anything?”

Jungkook laughs, squeezing your hand. “Nope. I think we’ll have to wait for our eyes to adjust. You good?”

You squeeze back. “Yeah, I think-”

The door is shut.

Suddenly delved into complete darkness, your breath hitches in your throat. “Jungkook,” you whimper. “Jungkook, I’m scared-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook hushes you, pulling you closer until you bump into his chest. “You’re fine. They’re just pulling a prank on us.”

Without thinking anything other than, I’m too young to die, you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, burrowing your head against his chest as he chuckles.

“I can’t die, Jungkook,” you mumble into his chest. “I’m too young. I have so much to do. I have a test this week to take, and I’ve studied so hard for it, I have to take it. That’d be so stupid to die before taking that dumb test. And I have to yell at Yoongi or something, I don’t know-”

Jungkook’s giddy laughter pulls you out of your daze, and if you weren’t so scared you would be glaring at him. He laces his fingers behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers into the dark, making every last thought eddy out of your brain. “Have I ever told you that before?”

Finding just enough willpower to move, you shake your head. Jungkook harrumphs above you, the sound almost pulling a giggle from you. Then you remember the situation you’re currently in.

Jungkook sighs. “Well, you are. That, and a lot of other things. Would you like me to tell you what else I think you are?”

Hands bunching in the fabric of his clothes, you find your voice. “...yes.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Scary smart. It’s horrifying.” A chuckle bubbles up from your chest. “And inclusive. That’s so underrated these days, you know? But you’re always making sure everyone is involved and enjoying themselves.”

You can tell that he’s holding his breath from the way his chest has stopped moving, and you’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he hesitantly runs his fingers through your hair.

If that wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, he lets out a shaky breath before continuing on. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you those things before.”

You manage a laugh. “I’m sorry that it took us going on a haunted house tour for you to say it.”

Jungkook smiles down at you, your eyes finally adjusted to the dim room. He stares at you for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

He must see the question in your eyes, but he gives you a knowing look before heading toward the door, making sure your hand is in his.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, testing the door and giggling at your sigh of relief when the door is unlocked.

“Worry about what?” You feign ignorance. Jungkook sees right through your, tugging you along as you head out the door.

He shrugs, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes as pink no doubt paints his cheeks. “You know...overstepping any boundaries.” He looks down at his feet. “Making a move.”

“Why?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you inwardly curse yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at your inquiry.

The sound of everyone chatting makes you almost want to cry with relief. They must be just around the corner, waiting for you to return.

Jungkook leans over, whispering to you. “Because we have a pact.”

You turn to question him further, eyes wide. He anticipates this, taking long strides until you find yourselves back in the open area with everyone else.

“We’re back!” Jungkook announces, shooting you a smirk. You can’t help but stare at him, mouth slightly agape.

A pact?

Gina smiles broadly. “How was the room? Did you find anything interesting?”

You shake your head, trying and failing to stop yourself from overanalyzing every glance the boys give you. “...no. I was too freaked out to even look around after the door closed on us.”

“Yeah, who did that? We didn’t even hear you guys,” Jungkook asks.

Everyone looks at the two of you before looking at Gina, clearly just as confused.

Gina, on the other hand, looks absolutely terrified.

“Ummm...” she begins, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. “Remember how I said that we haven’t ever found the body of the estranged wife?”

You nod your head but stop, the words sinking in. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up, and you find yourself shuffling over to stand next to Jin, clinging to his arm.

“Yeah...” Namjoon says, eyes darting around the room.

Gina sighs. “Alright, everyone, single file line. Head out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

masterlist

this has been turned into a series!

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

oooh so spooky ;)

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mtap-comics · 2 years ago

Text

Here comes the next fill in for my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card:

Fandom: My time at Portia

Pairing: Arlo x Female Builder

Summary: Elenya was just mining some iron ore when the earthquake hit.

Word count: (too much) 10'657

Prompt: Crush Injury

Author's note: This one got waaaay out of hand. It got a lot angstier and a lot longer than I intended to, and I have the feeling it's a bit boring at some places, but I hope you get trought to the end.

Warnings: mention of blood

Read on AO3: Link

Rocky Rain

It was a warm spring day in Portia and Elenya was currently in the abandoned Ruin 2, having run out of iron ore again. She had just replenished her supply 2 weeks ago and it was now empty again. Even after more than 2 years as a builder in Portia, she was always amazed at how quickly she used up that stuff. Her whole life in general always took a very surprising course here.

When she arrived here, she would never have expected what she would accomplish here and especially not that she would get married. To the kindest, most just and handsomest man she had ever met.

At the thought of Arlo, she paused her mining for a moment and smiled dreamily to herself. They married last winter, almost half a year ago and she was still as in love with him as she had been the first time they kissed. She sometimes still couldn't believe that he had chosen to share the rest of his life with her.

Continuing to smile, she put her pickaxe back in place to continue digging her next tunnel. Over the last two years, she had worked out a strategy for collecting the most ores and relics. She always dug a tunnel first until she came across a good spot with ore. Then she mined everything until she was standing in a more or less large cave. From there, she dug further in all directions to pick up everything useful along the way. If she came across a good spot with ore again, she would build another cave. Arlo called it her mouse maze.

She was currently working on a new tunnel and was not far from her first cave. It must have been about 2 p.m. when suddenly the ground beneath her began to tremble and stones and sand began to trickle down on her.

What was that? An earthquake?

She quickly dropped her pickaxe and ran back into her cave. She had supported it with a wooden beam and hoped that this was the safest place. More and more pieces of stone fell from the ceiling and just as she burst into the open space, one of them hit her in the head and everything went black around her.

~~~~~~

She couldn’t have been out for long, because when she came to, the dust around her was still settling. Her head hurt like hell and she was laying on her back, the jet-pack digging uncomfortably into her back.

Fuck, what happened?

The relic scanner laid beside her, the lenses cracked, but luckily the headlight was still working, so she was able to see the destruction around her. How she could still be alive was a mystery to her. All around her were large chunks of stones and ores. The individual passages that led away from her were all buried, only her small cave had barely survived the earthquake. If she hadn't put up the support beam in the middle, the ceiling would probably have collapsed completely over her.

Damn it, she was completely trapped.

Her first instinct was to panic, but she tried to suppress it. That wouldn't help her now.

Cautiously, Elenya first tried to assess her head wound. She could feel something warm running down her temple, so it was definitely a laceration, but while her head hurt awfully, she didn't feel woozy. With some luck, she escaped a concussion.

Next she tried to take off her jet-pack, but as soon as she tried to sit up, excruciating pain shot through her left leg, causing her to choke on a scream. She fell back, her vision going black for a moment. When she regained consciousness, she was on her back again, her breath coming in gasps and her stomach twisting with nausea.

Oh God, what was that? She never felt such pain before.

It took her a moment to regain her composure, but when the worst of the pain had passed, she tried to sit up again, this time without moving her legs. Her head complained about the movement, but she needed to get rid of the jetpack and she needed to know what was wrong with her leg.

When Elenya finally sat, her vision momentarily blurred in front of her, and it took her a moment to focus her eyes again. She wished she had stayed put. A large chunk of rock had landed on her shin, just below her knee, burying it completely underneath. Her nausea intensified at the sight and she had to take a few deep breaths in and out to keep from retching.

When she had regained her bearings somewhat, she tried to make out the extent of her injuries. Her right leg was spared except for a few bloody scrapes and when she concentrated through the pain, she could fortunately feel her left foot, which indicated that it was also spared. Her free arms had also received minor scrapes and she was covered in dust from top to bottom, but otherwise her leg was probably the main problem.

Removing her jet-pack, she carefully let herself fall back to the ground. Her head was swimming and she had trouble keeping her rising panic at bay. God, what if someone else was buried? Someone who might not have been as lucky as she was…

Her breathing quickened, images of crushed bodies appearing in her mind. The nausea became stronger again and she had to swallow deeply a few times.

Fuck, she couldn't think like that! She had to think positively or she would go crazy down here.

She just had to be patient. The earthquake had certainly been felt throughout Portia, so the collapse must have been noticed. The Civil Corps was probably already on its way to clear the ruins, along with Albert and Mint's help. She just had to wait.

Elenya tried to distract herself with the thought of her open commissions, ignoring the fact that she would probably not be able to fulfil them. She couldn't tell exactly how much time passed, it could have been 5 minutes or 20 minutes, when suddenly a voice sounded to her right, slightly above her head. A voice she would recognise anywhere, even through the thick layer of stone that separated her from him.

"Elenya, sweetheart, can you hear me? Are you in there?"

Arlo. He was here. He found her.

Relief washed over her.

"Arlo! I'm here!" Her loud call sent stabbing pains through her head, but it was worth it.

"Thank God. How are you? Are you hurt?"

His voice was laced with concern and she would have liked nothing more than to deny his question, but she had to tell him what was going on.

"Could be better. I hurt my head and my left leg is buried. I can't get up..."

Her voice broke on the last words, her suppressed panic coming back full force.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm so sorry, darling. Please hold on a little longer. We're about to secure everything so we can get you out of here. Just a little longer, okay?"

Worry could be heard in his every word, but his warm voice alone helped her quickly quell the panic. Then a second voice rang out, but it was too muffled for her to understand.

"I'm afraid I have to leave for a moment, sweetie. They need my help. I'll be back to check on you in a bit though, okay?", Arlo's regretful voice then came through to her.

No, he couldn't be leaving!

"Wait! Was anyone else hurt?" She needed to know, but even more she needed to hear his voice a little more.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Everyone else was able to free themselves and only got a few scrapes. Just focus on yourself. We'll have you out of here soon, too. Promise." Arlo sounded firm and left no doubt about his statement. Elenya could hear his retreating footsteps and tried to cling to his words.

Just a little longer. She just had to hold on a little longer.

With difficulty, she continued to try to suppress the pain in her leg. Thought instead of her warm bed, Arlo right beside her, tenderly caressing her cheek...

After about 5 minutes, she was snapped out of her daydream when she could hear footsteps again, this time followed by a loud "clang" echoing through the small cave. Startled, she flinched, but then was able to assign the sound to a pickaxe. Someone was picking away at the collapsed wall.

A few blows later a few stones trickled in to her and a small hole became visible. "Elenya? Are you still with me? Can you tell me where you are exactly? I can't see you from here, I'm afraid." Arlo was back. And now she could hear his suppressed concern even better, which he tried to drown out with his "Captain" voice.

"I'm still here. Don't worry, except for my leg, I'm relatively fine. I'm lying just to your left." Grateful that she didn't have to yell now, she spoke to him as calmly as she could. She knew her husband, didn't have to see him to know that he was just being eaten up inside by worry and guilt. And she couldn't let that stand. Her own panic and pain completely faded into the background, only her wonderful, self-sacrificing idiot of a captain mattered to her now.

"Please don't worry so much. You guys will get me out of here, Dr. Xu will patch up my leg, and then you can take me home and coddle me all you want, okay?" A slight chuckle from the other side brought a smile to her face. Mission accomplished.

"Of course. Mint, Albert and Higgins, with the help of Sam and Remi, are diligently securing the ruins entrance and slowly working their way here." A brief pause. "Does that mean you'll do everything I tell you for once? Let me take care of you?" His fond voice let her smile deepen.

"Yes Arlo, I will. Just please don't blame yourself for this, okay? You can protect me from almost anything, but even you don't stand a chance against Mother Nature. Can you promise me that?"

Silence.

With a sigh, the smile disappeared from her lips. Mission only partially successful. So she had at least something to do when Arlo will keep her captive in bed.

"Elenya?" The second voice from before sounded again, but this time she could identify it as Remington's. "Hello there. How's my favourite builder holding up?" He sounded concerned too, and she was sorry that she was causing everyone so much worry.

"Hey Remy, as well as can be expected. But the sooner I'm out of here, the better." She sounded lighter than she felt and a deep laugh came back in reply.

"As strong as ever. But we'll get that done. I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal Arlo from you again for a moment to do that, though." Her heart grew heavy. She didn't want to be alone, but of course they needed every helping hand they could get.

As if he had read her thoughts, Arlo's voice rang out again. "I'm sorry, darling, I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" "Okay..."

Over the next 30 minutes it dragged on like that. Arlo helped with the tasks and came back every few minutes to talk to her briefly. Sam also came over once to relieve her loneliness.

But something felt wrong. The more time passed, the stranger she felt. She felt cold, the nausea returned and even lying down made her dizzy. A haze settled around her vision and it became harder and harder to concentrate. In addition, her skin was covered in cold sweat and her heartbeat accelerated.

Arlo had just been with her again, he had asked her something and she must have answered, but she couldn't remember what. By now she could also hear the voices of the others, so they must be on the verge of breaking through to her, but the sounds became more and more blurred. A deep exhaustion overcame her and she lost the fight against consciousness. Everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Arlo had just returned from his patrol of South Block when the earthquake hit. He was about to enter the Civil Corps headquarters when the ground beneath him began to vibrate. It wasn't too strong, but still he quickly pulled Spacer out from under the stall and got as far away from the building as possible in case something collapsed.

The tremor lasted about 30 seconds, then everything was quiet again. A quick glance over Portia told him that all the buildings had held and the residents were cautiously coming out of their houses. Hopefully no one was injured.

But before he could think any more about it, a loud crash sounded to his right, directly from abandoned Ruin 2. Startled, he turned around and his heart sank.

Oh no, has the ruin collapsed?

Before he knew it, he was already on the platform directly behind the elevator door of the ruin, looking down into the chaos of stone, ore and sand. The individual tunnels that were still there this morning during his check-up were partially buried and in several places the ground has caved in.

A quick glance at the jet-packs told him that four people must be in the ruins and fear spread through him. Were all four buried?

He would have liked nothing better than to grab a jet-pack himself and start searching immediately, but he knew that doing so alone was far too dangerous. Reluctantly, he left the ruins again and could see with relief that Sam and Remington were just coming up the path to the headquarters.

"Sam, Remy! Get over here!" he called to them and quickly the two hurried towards him. "Arlo! What's going on? What happened?" Remy reached him first and noticed his panicked look. He quickly filled them in. "The earthquake caused the ruin to collapse."

"Oh no..." Sam had also reached them by now and horror spread through the other two civil corps members. "How many people are in there?" asked she immediately, her gaze hardening with determination. "Four jet-packs are missing, but I don't know who is..." Arlo couldn't finish his sentence.

Suddenly the conversation with Elenya from this morning came to his mind. She said she had run out of iron ore for a commission and that she wanted to stock up this afternoon. In the abandoned Ruin 2...

Everything inside him contracted painfully and horror ran through him. Oh no…

“Arlo? What’s wrong?” Remington shook his shoulder slightly and he looked at his two teammates in horror. "Elenya..."

"She's in there?" "Yes, she needed iron ore..." Sam's face looked just as horrified as he felt, only Remy had a better grip on his emotions. "Don't worry about it. We'll find her. Along with the other three people who were inside."

With difficulty he managed to bury his panic under his captain persona and nodded gravely. Four people were in danger and the fact that one of them was his wife was something he had to ignore for now. He was responsible for the safety of everyone in the city and could not allow himself to be distracted.

~~~~~~

The three of them now made their way into the ruin and each grabbed a jet-pack. But before they could even start looking for the missing people, a commotion sounded to their left. Surprised, they looked in that direction and shortly after, Higgins burst out of the ground, two tourists in tow.

"Damn earthquake. I don't have time for this shit!" Cursing to himself, he wiped the dust off his clothes.

Brief relief spread through Arlo. At least 3 of the 4 missing are so far well, even if the most important one for him was still missing.

"Higgins! Are you okay?" Tensely, Arlo watched the three people approach the platform with cautious steps. At first glance he could not see any serious injuries, but that could be deceptive.

"Yes, everything's fine so far. I just came across these two... tourists... when the earthquake hit. We were lucky and close to the surface, so I was able to get us out of here." By now they had reached the platform and flew up to them with their, thankfully still intact, jet-packs.

Sam and Remy immediately turned their attention to the distraught visitors and Arlo turned to Higgins with a serious look. "I’m glad you are okay. Can you estimate approximately how much of the ruin has collapsed?" Sceptically, Higgins looked up at him. "Why do you ask? Is there anyone still down there?" With a heavy swallow, Arlo nodded. "Yes, Elenya."

Concern was briefly visible in Higgins' gaze before he covered it with an annoyed look. "My rival always manages to get herself into trouble, of course. I'd say the most collapsed on our right, as far as I could sense. How do you plan to find her in here? The area is huge."

That worried him a lot too, but he already had an idea where she might be. Two weeks ago, she had accompanied him to the ruins in the morning because she was looking for a certain relic part. There she had shown him her latest "mouse maze" and he still knew where the entrance was. He had also seen it during his patrol this morning. Exactly where Higgins suspected the biggest collapse...

Damn, why hadn't he noticed this morning that the ruin was unstable? It's only because of him that Elenya is now under there, trapped or maybe even buried....

He couldn't even think about it. That his little builder, the light of his life, might be lying buried under stones, alone, frightened, or maybe even....

He quickly shook off the thought. He had no time to wallow in fear. Elenya needed him now, trusted that he would find and save her.

Determined, he straightened his shoulders and finally answered Higgins: "I might know where she is. But to get her out safely, we need the help of Albert, Mint and you. Can you get those two for me and tell them what happened here?"

With a now also serious nod, Higgins put down his jet pack and relic scanner and made his way out. Satisfied that the first step had been taken care of, he turned to Sam and Remy. In the meantime, the two of them were able to calm the two tourists down and convince them to go outside.

"Remy, you come with me. Sam, you wait here." His captain's mask sat perfectly again and confused looks met him. "All right, but what's going on? What am I waiting for?", Sam asked him worriedly. "I think I know where Elenya is. The problem is, the spot is exactly where Higgins thinks the biggest collapse was. So we have to hurry. Higgins is just getting Albert and Mint so they can help restore stability. You wait for them here. Remy, we're leaving."

He sounded very harsh, he knew that, but he could apologise later. Ignoring the worried look on his best friend's face, he strapped a jet-pack to his back and flew off in the direction he hoped to find Elenya's tunnel still intact.

A little further back, just before the wall, a hole did indeed appear. Arlo landed as lightly as possible in front of it, so as not to trigger possible landslides by further vibrations.

"I'll go in. Wait here and show the others where to go in, once they arrive." Remy obviously didn't like his plan, but didn't object. "Okay, please be careful though, Arlo. We don't know how unstable it is down there."

He didn't bother replying and instead took the first step into the tunnel. Elenya wasn't a fan of the jet-packs, that's why her paths were always slightly downwards, so that one could walk down without any problems. With light steps he followed the path until, after only about 20 metres, he found himself in front of a wall full of boulders.

Damn!

But if he remembered correctly, just behind the debris should be her first cave. On a hunch, he called out to her. "Elenya, sweetheart, can you hear me? Are you in there?" And sure enough, "Arlo! I'm here!"

Pure relief flooded through him. He had found her.

"Thank God. How are you? Are you hurt?" He hoped so much that she was just locked up, even if he knew that was just wishful thinking. If it were, she would have freed herself by now.

"Could be better. I hurt my head and my left leg is buried. I can't get up..."

Her voice broke on the last words and his heart overflowed with worry. She was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm so sorry darling. Please hold on a little longer. We're about to secure everything so we can get you out of here. Just a little longer, okay?" Before she could answer, Remy appeared behind him.

"Hey, you found her? Very good. How's she doing? Is she hurt?" Concerned eyes looked towards him. "Yeah, she has a head injury and her leg got buried. But other than that, I think she's fine so far." "That's not so good news. But Albert and Mint have arrived and we need your help in deciding how to proceed."

With a heavy heart, he parted from Elenya and made his way back to the surface. There he first told the others what the situation was and how Elenya was doing. Everyone was very worried and a plan was quickly worked out.

Higgins and Sam were sent to bring in as many beams as they could, a ramp was placed from the platform to the surface of the mine for easier transport and Mint set about inspecting the tunnel. Dr. Xu was also alerted but was told to wait outside until they had finished the stabilisation work. The fewer people who put themselves in danger, the better.

They worked for the next half hour. Mint calculated as best he could where the support pillars needed to be, Albert drew the plans and Higgins cut them with Sam's help. Remy and he then set them up while he talked to Elenya from time to time. He was allowed to knock a small hole in the wall to understand her better, but further shaking would have been too dangerous.

While talking to her, he once again was surprised by her strength. Although she was the one who was injured and trapped, she was more concerned about other people, tried to calm him down and even in front of Remy she did not let herself show any weakness. But just as they were about to stabilise the last section, there was suddenly no response from her.

His painstakingly suppressed panic finally burst out and he desperately called out to her. "Elenya! What happened? Answer me, please..."

Silence.

"Arlo, what's wrong?" Remy's voice rang out behind him and distressed, he turned to the others. "Something is very wrong... She's not answering anymore..." Horrified looks met his eyes. Even Higgins no longer bothered to hide his worried look.

What had happened? She had been fine until just now, considering the circumstances. Why didn't she answer any more?

Everything in him cried out to simply tear down the wall in front of him, ignoring all caution, and only with great difficulty did he manage to close off his feelings again. "Mint, how long until we can finally tear down this damned wall?" The young engineer looked from him to the wall, just as worried about Elenya as everyone else, and then up at the ceiling of the tunnel.

"One more support beam right here, then we should be able to carefully remove the rubble. The less vibration we cause the better. I don't know how stable the cave behind it is." His words were confident and Albert immediately set about measuring the height so Higgins could cut the beam accordingly.

Less than 5 minutes later, there was finally a gap big enough for someone to squeeze through. Without even having to ask, Higgins stepped aside to let Arlo through and relieved, he did just that.

But as soon as his lamp hit Elenya, everything in him froze in shock. His gaze briefly fell on the large boulder lying on her leg, but what shocked him the most was her face. It was devoid of any colour, there were deep shadows under her eyes and the dried blood from the head wound drew a grotesque contrast against her pale skin. She looked as if she was...

Oh God, please, she can't be...

Before he knew it, he was kneeling beside her, ripping off his gloves and pressing his fingers against her neck. Fear and panic were eating him up, choking him and bringing tears to his eyes. His trembling hands took an agonising moment, but then he finally felt it. A heartbeat. Weak and far too fast, but it was there...

A single tear spilled over and his shoulders slumped in relief. She wasn't dead. She was still with him...

But, what was wrong? Why was she unconscious? The head wound didn't look deep and apart from her trapped leg, he couldn't see any serious injury.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked startled into Remington's face. He had not noticed that the others had widened the gap and had now also come into the cave and were looking at him anxiously.

He cleared his throat briefly to get rid of the lump in his throat and then told them all in a firm voice. "She has a pulse, but it's weak and very fast. We need to get her out of here, now."

More quietly, he then asked Remy desperately. "What's wrong with her? Why isn't she waking up?"

"I can imagine why." With a grim face, Remy pointed his lamp at the rock resting on Elenya's leg. Confused, Arlo looked at the horrible sight and it took him a moment to see what Remy was pointing at. It was hard to see on the dark floor, but a pool of blood had formed under the stone, already large enough for it to peek out from underneath.

"Fuck... The stone must have cut her leg. The weight is probably the only thing that has saved her from bleeding out so far. We need Dr. Xu in here, now!" Arlo said the last loudly to the crowd and Sam immediately ran off towards the exit.

He felt sick at the thought that she could have bled to death here all by herself without him being able to do anything about it. To get this image out of his head, he quickly turned back to Elenya, placed his right hand against her pulse again and with his left he gently caressed her cheek. Her skin was cold and clammy, but the faint pulse under his hand soothed him.

"Oh sweetheart, please hold on a little longer...", Arlo whispered softly to her, stroking from her cheek up through her hair. He was about to turn back to Remy to ask him to take the lead, since he definitely won't leave Elenya's side again, when a soft whimper sounded from the very same.

His head immediately snapped back to her and he gently called her name. "Elenya! Darling, can you hear me?" Another whimper sounded. Arlo could feel the whole room tensely holding its breath and after a few encouraging words from him, confused green eyes opened.

"Hi there..." With a relieved smile, he looked down at her and gently cupped her left cheek with his right hand, carefully guiding her gaze to him. It took a moment, but her slightly clouded eyes managed to focus on him.

When she recognized him, a slight smile spread across her lips and another weight fell from his heart.

She was awake!

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Stupid question, but he had to make sure she stayed awake as well. "Hurts..." Her voice was raspy and pained and tears filled her eyes. It hurt him. "I bet it does. If I could, I'd take the pain on myself, believe me. But you just have to hang in there a little longer, okay? Like you said, we'll have you out of here in a minute, Dr. Xu will patch you up, and pretty soon you'll be driving me crazy trying to get back to work."

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, but as hoped, the slight smile came back to her lips and gently he wiped the tear away with his thumb. "Everything will be fine, okay?" "Okay."

Remington, meanwhile, had taken the lead without prompting and was planning with the others how to get the rock off Elenya as painlessly as possible. Arlo paid them no further attention, trusting his people and focusing instead entirely on Elenya.

To distract her from her pain and to keep her awake, he quietly started to tell her about his first trip to the Collapsed Wastelands, just 10 years old and armed with a wooden sword. As he did so, he caressed her cheek incessantly and ran his fingers through her hair to further soothe her.

Her misty gaze told him she couldn't really follow his words, but his voice seemed to help and she leaned into his gentle touch. In mid-sentence, however, she suddenly interrupted him. "Arlo?" Her voice was barely audible, but he was close enough that he had no trouble understanding her. He immediately fell silent and looked down at her questioningly. "I'm... cold..." Her body had begun to shake slightly and her breathing quickened.

Damn, her body was going further into shock! He quickly took off his jacket and threw it over her torso. They had to keep her warm somehow!

However, before he could ask for help, Sam and Dr. Xu finally arrived. Sam was carrying a stretcher on her back and Dr. Xu was dragging a large doctor's bag.

"Dr. Xu! Quick, her body is shutting down! Help her, please." The panic was back. They were so close to finally having her out of here and now this.

"I was already afraid of something like this, so I brought everything we need. Here, take this blanket and try to keep her warm. I need to tie off her thigh to stop the bleeding. Otherwise, we won't be able to lift the rock off of her. Is she conscious?" Dr. Xu quickly rushed toward them, already rummaging in his bag to throw him a shock blanket.

Arlo quickly spread it over Elenya and then bent over her head again. Her eyes were closed, but as soon as he put his hand back to her cheek, they opened again and wandered unfocused over his face.

Fear constricted his throat, but he managed to answer Dr. Xu. "Barely. But her eyes are still open." "That's good. Unfortunately, this is about to be very painful for her, but you have to keep her awake at all costs, okay?" Dr. Xu looked at him seriously and he could only nod. He knew what the doctor was trying to say. If she were to pass out now, she might never wake up again.

Before this scenario could even settle in his mind, he immediately suppressed it. Elenya needed him now with a clear head. He couldn't permit such thoughts to enter his mind.

At his nod, Dr. Xu set about tying off her thigh and Arlo turned his attention back to Elenya. She followed his movements sluggishly and confusedly, and he smiled reassuringly down at her. "Hey sweetie, it's going to be okay. Dr. Xu is taking care of your leg right now and Higgins and Remy are going to lift the rock off of you right after. I just need you to stay awake for me, okay? Can you do that for me?"

It took a moment for her brain to process his words, but then she answered him with a slight nod. "That's great. Just focus on me. Nothing else matters, okay?" Softly, he started to pet her hair again with his left hand. With his other, he gently took her right hand in his and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

She flinched briefly as Dr. Xu tightened the tourniquet on her thigh, but otherwise didn't let anything on, and her eyes remained fixed on his.

He was about to continue his story from earlier when a short piece of wood was held under his nose. Confused, he followed the hand to Dr. Xu's serious face. "Put this between her teeth. She might bite her tongue off, if you don't." Comprehension spread through him as he saw Remy and Higgins behind the doctor, tampering with the rock, and his heart contracted painfully at the thought of what was about to happen.

With a grim nod, he took the piece of wood and gently slid it between Elenya's teeth. She let it happen without resistance and just continued to look him silently in the eyes.

"Sam?" Dr. Xu turned to the blonde-haired woman. "Can you hold her hips down? She can't move her leg once it's free." With an equally grim nod, she positioned herself behind Arlo to keep a steady grip on Elenya's hips on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but this is about to really hurt." Carefully Arlo slid his left hand under her head so she wouldn't accidentally slam it against the hard floor and with the other he took her hand in his again.

Behind him they counted to 3 and then the rock was lifted. Elenya's eyes instantly snapped open in shock and her hand cramped in his. Bruises would probably remain, but that was the least of his worries.

To escape the pain, she instinctively pushed her head back against his hand and squirmed against Sam's grip. Tears streamed from her eyes and her pain-filled whimpering could be heard even through the wood.

His heart broke in two and tears came to his eyes as well. He couldn't bear to see her in such pain.

As soon as her leg was exposed, shocked gasps went through the cave. Arlo didn't even want to know what the leg looked like, instead holding Elenya's gaze captive with his. She was still writhing in pain and her eyes looked up at him in despair. At a loss of what to do, he leaned down further to press his forehead gently against hers and whispered soothing words to her, hoping to give her some comfort.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay. I'm here. Dr. Xu will be done with your leg in a minute, so your blood will finally stay where it belongs. Just a little longer, sweetie. You can do this. You're my strong little builder after all."

"Okay, her leg is splinted and there's a pressure bandage over the wound. I'll take the tourniquet off now, then we can move her. She needs a blood transfusion as soon as possible. Remington, Arlo, can you lift her onto the gurney?"

Startled, Arlo looked up when he heard his name. He was so focused on Elenya that he didn't even notice how Sam had gotten up in the meantime and led everyone but him, Dr. Xu and Remy out of the ruin to clear the way. As the words registered in his brain, Arlo broke away from Elenya with a gentle kiss to her forehead. The adrenaline triggered by the pain had left her by now and she lay motionless, her eyes barely open. The piece of wood that was between her teeth lay unnoticed on the floor and her head lolled to the side as soon as he pulled his hand out from under it.

They couldn't waste any more time.

Carefully they lifted her onto the stretcher Sam had brought with her, Dr. Xu making sure that the pressure bandage did not slip. Remy then took the handles by her head and Arlo took the ones by her feet. With sure steps, they wound their way through the narrow path to the surface, Dr. Xu right on their heels.

~~~~~~

As they stepped out of the ruin, Arlo was first blinded by the sunlight. The sun still shone bright and warm, regardless of the fact that his entire world just lay broken and injured before him, barely conscious. In the sunlight, he was also reminded of how terrible Elenya looked. Her whole body was coated with dust and covered in small cuts, her face pale and sunken, and the first drops of blood could already be seen through the bandages.

He had never been so glad to enter the clinic. Phyllis was already waiting for them and they quickly loaded Elenya onto the hospital bed. He wanted to stay by her side, but Remy pulled him aside so the two medics could get to work.

As soon as Elenya was no longer in his field of vision, however, something inside him broke. It was as if all the suppressed fear and panic returned in one fell swoop. His legs buckled out from under him and it was only thanks to Remy's firm grip on his upper arm that prevented him from hitting the ground with his knees.

Everything inside him contracted painfully and this time he couldn't stop the tears. His wife, his everything, was almost taken from him and the thought ate him up inside. He didn't even notice how Remy led him out of the clinic and only became aware of something again when he suddenly found himself on the couch at Civil Corps headquarters. Immediately he wanted to jump up again, but a hand on his shoulder prevented that.

No! He couldn't leave her alone!

"Arlo! Calm down! Elenya is in the best hands. Dr. Xu and Phyllis are taking care of her and you would just be in the way. Please, get a hold of yourself." Brown eyes pierced his with concern, and only then did he notice how frantic his breathing had become. Strained, he took a few deep breaths and slowly, his racing heart calmed down.

Anguished, he ran his hand through his hair and then buried his face in his hands. "God, Remy, why did something like this have to happen?" His friend dropped down beside him with an exhausted sigh and put a comforting hand on his back. "I don't know, Arlo. But it's going to be okay. Our Elenya won't be brought down that easily. Especially not by a rock. Stone and ore are shaped by her, not the other way around."

A short surprised laugh escaped him, but Remy was right. He was always surprised at what these little hands could create with just a few tools. The proof could be seen all over Portia.

With the help of his friend, he made it through the next hour without losing his mind. Not a soul disturbed them in that time and he wondered if Sam had something to do with it. He was infinitely grateful to his two comrades for keeping a cool head, even though Elenya was also their friend. As much as he hated it, he wouldn't be able to fulfil his duties as captain at all right now.

He was just wondering how much longer they would have to wait when the door to the headquarters was finally pushed open and Dr. Xu came in. He looked exhausted, but his expression was calm and collected. Immediately, Arlo and Remy jumped up and looked at the doctor expectantly. He did not hesitate with his information.

"Okay, I don't know how, but Elenya was very lucky overall. The blood loss was the main problem. Fortunately, she had donated a whole unit of blood a few weeks ago, so we were able to stabilise her for the time being. Her body should be able to regenerate the rest of the lost blood by itself. There's not much to say about her head wound, it was mainly superficial and we just cleaned and bandaged it."

With a sigh, Dr. Xu dropped into the chair next to the couch and instructed the two to sit down as well. Reluctantly, Arlo complied with the request, though he would love nothing more than to rush out the door and wrap Elenya in his arms.

"Now for her leg. The impact of the rock tore her skin and in addition several blood vessels were injured by sharp edges. We were able to stop the bleeding and stitched up the wound. As for her tibia, I was pleasantly surprised. Besides the crush injury, the bone is broken in two places, but the fractures are very clear and there were no splinters, which I had actually expected. I've set the fracture, but as long as the swelling is still so bad and the wound hasn't started to heal, I can't put a cast on her yet. What still worries me a bit is her foot. The blood supply was not completely cut off, but unfortunately I can't completely rule out nerve damage. However, we won't be able to determine that until she wakes up."

Relief flooded through Arlo. It all sounded terrible, but she would get back on her feet. Soon he could take her home and shower her with love. But something about Dr. Xu's voice told him that he still had something unpleasant to say.

"Thank you very much Dr. Xu. It all sounds good so far, but I sense that there is still a 'but'..."

"Well, she was trapped down there for a good hour, surrounded by rock and sand. While the flowing blood regularly flushed some of the dirt out of the wound and I cleaned it as best I could, I still fear that an infection cannot be averted. Her weakened body will react strongly to it, so we'll have to watch her closely for the next few hours."

Renewed concern mingled with relief and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to see her. Now.

Dr. Xu must have seen it in his eyes, because he said, "Yes, you can go see her. Phyllis should be done with cleaning up by now."

Arlo didn't need to be told twice and quickly made his way back to the clinic. When he pushed open the door, he was greeted by a reassuringly smiling Phyllis, but he only had eyes for the room divider behind which his wife lay. Fortunately, Phyllis did not stop him and with careful steps he approached the hospital bed. He had trouble associating the figure lying there with the otherwise energetic woman he loved.

Her face was still far too pale, a square compress was taped over her head wound and her left leg was heavily bandaged. It peeked out from under the thin blanket that lay over her and was elevated with several pillows. All the blood and dirt got washed away and an IV line carried a clear fluid into the back of her right hand. She looked even smaller than usual.

With a heavy heart, he stepped completely up to the bed and carefully took her right hand in his, mindful of the IV needle. His index finger automatically found her pulse at her wrist and the steady heartbeat underneath it let even the last tension flow out of his body. Exhausted, he sank onto the stool next to the bed and a last, relieved tear escaped his right eye.

"Oh, sweetheart, please get well quickly. We need you. I need you." Without letting go of her hand, Arlo leaned over her and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. Then he leaned back and began to watch over her sleep, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

He didn't know exactly how long he sat there, when suddenly a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Surprised, he looked up, straight into Sam's green eyes. "Hey boss, looks like our favourite builder is getting back on her feet. Knew nothing would knock her out that fast." She grinned encouragingly down at him, and Remy, standing behind her, nodded at him with a smile as well.

He smiled back, but it didn't feel right. Until Elenya woke up, he would continue to worry.

Their smiles dimmed a little and Remy spoke up this time, "Don't worry too much, it'll be fine. And you don't have to worry about Portia either. Sam and I can manage without you for a while. Concentrate fully on Elenya. She's going to need you at full strength." "Exactly," Sam agreed with him, "we'll manage. Speaking of which, you might want to take a trip home for a bit. A shower would do you good and you can bring Elenya something comfortable to wear while you're at it. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to lie around in that piece of cloth called a hospital gown any longer than absolutely necessary."

Confused, Arlo looked down at himself and noticed that he was also covered in dust from top to bottom due to the rescue operation. A shower would definitely be in order, but he just couldn't let Elenya out of his sight. On the other hand, Sam was right and she would definitely feel more comfortable if she could put on something familiar. Struggling inwardly with herself, Remy finally took the decision from him.

"Go freshen up and eat something, Arlo. Sam and I will stay here and keep an eye on her, okay?" Remy's voice was as calm as ever and Arlo conceded defeat. His best friend, as always, knew what was going on inside him and what to tell him.

With a heavy heart, Arlo stood up and said goodbye to Elenya with a gentle kiss on the forehead and a soft, "I'll be right back, darling." With a slight nod to Sam and Remy, he made his way home.

He decided to walk to clear his head a little. His insides were a jumble of emotions, from fear, to relief, to guilt, it was all there. Strangely, no one ran into him, but he was only aware of that subconsciously and paid it no further attention.

But even when he arrived home, his thoughts were still as confused as before. Plagued by "What ifs..." and "What could he have done better?", he made himself a sandwich with automated movements, ate it and then stood under the shower. He tried hard not to think about how Elenya had been happily buzzing around him just this morning while they were both getting ready for the day. His heart clenched for what felt like the thousandth time that day and a few tears mingled with the water.

After the shower he felt marginally better and he picked out the most comfortable clothes Elenya owned. He packed for several days, both for Elenya and for himself. The book she was reading also went into the backpack and just as he was about to leave, his eyes fell on the grey sweater lying over the back of her couch. Actually, it was his, but Elenya probably wore it more often than he did. It was old and soft and swallowed her small frame every time she wore it. She loved that sweater, especially when it smelled like him. Said it made her feel safe, especially when he had to stay out late.

He quickly threw the jumper into the backpack as well and headed back up to the clinic.

Just as he passed the west gate, Mayor Gale came rushing up to him. Immediately, more guilt welled up inside him. Portia had been rocked by an earthquake just a few hours ago and he hadn't even checked to see how the other residents were doing. What kind of Civil Corps captain was he, after all?

"Arlo, good thing I caught you." Slightly out of breath, the man stopped in front of him. "Hey boss, sorry about that. Is everyone all right? Was anyone else hurt?" Gale waved him off. "Don't worry about that. Everyone's fine and apart from a few broken plates and pieces of furniture, nothing happened. Nothing that can't be fixed with a few hardworking builders, at least. But I didn't come to see you to talk to Captain Arlo, I came to see Arlo, a loving husband. I sincerely hope Elenya feels better soon. I know what it's like to lose a loved one and am very glad you were spared that today. Please don't think too much about what could have been, but what is. Your loving wife may be a little battered, but she is still with you, breathing and alive."

Sadness wavered in Gale's eyes and Arlo once again marvelled at how strong the mayor was going through life despite his loss. After that afternoon, he didn't know if he could have done that himself.

"Thank you very much... Gale. I will try to follow your advice." A warm smile came in reply. "That's all I expect. Now go back to your wife. We can manage without you for a while, so don't worry about Portia. I'll also try to calm any anxious minds so you won't be swamped with visitors right away. She will need her rest."

With another thank you and a quick goodbye, he hurried on up the hill with his head now a little clearer.

He was gone for maybe an hour in total, when he pushed open the door to the clinik once again, but what greeted him there made him freeze for a moment. Dr. Xu and Phyllis were standing around Elenya's bed talking animatedly. Sam and Remy stood right next to the door and watched the two with a worried look.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Panicked, he looked to his two best friends and Remy, thankfully, didn't hesitate with his answer. "As already feared, her leg has become badly infected. She suddenly developed a high fever and they have trouble getting it down.”

"Oh, darling..."

~~~~~~

What followed were three days of worry and sleepless nights. Elenya was barely responsive, plagued by high fever and pain, her eyes were always hazy and the only thing she responded to was his voice and touch.

Arlo himself hardly got any sleep. He incessantly wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck with a cold cloth, helped her eat soup, read to her from her book and generally did everything to make her as comfortable as possible. Dr. Xu and Phyllis tried different medicines to bring down the fever, but the only thing that really helped were regular cold wraps around her thighs and arms.

He was completely exhausted. Sam and Remy made him sleep at least a few hours every day in his old room at headquarters, while one of them watched over Elenya, but he never slept more than two to three hours a night. Fear, worry and guilt drove the most horrible images into his head. Each time he woke up plagued by nightmares and could only calm down again when he held Elenya's hand securely in his.

At the end of the third day, the fever finally broke and Elenya's face relaxed for the first time in a long time and she slept peacefully. Relieved, Arlo watched her for a while, repeatedly brushing gently through her hair and across her cheek, until exhaustion caught up with him as well. With his head pillowed right next to her hand on the mattress, he fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Elenya woke up, she felt completely exhausted. Her limbs were heavy and opening her eyes alone was exhausting, but she could finally think more clearly again. She remembered the last few days only vaguely. Most of what remained was unbearable heat, pain and a warm voice. Along with gentle touches and the feeling of safety.

Arlo.

With difficulty, she turned her head to the right and squinted against the bright morning light. Searching, her eyes wandered around the room until they finally lingered on her familiar redhead. His head lay not far from her hand, pillowed on his own arms and his face turned toward her. His eyes were closed and his features relaxed. An affectionate smile settled on her lips.

He had stayed with her all this time.

Carefully she raised her hand. Her whole arm trembled with effort, but she managed to place her hand gently on his cheek. As soon as her fingers touched his skin, however, Arlo startled and looked around the room in confusion. "What...?" When his gaze finally noticed her open eyes, his own widened in surprise and a relieved smile spread across his face.

"Elenya, sweetheart, you're awake." "Hey Arlo..." Her voice was all raspy from not using it and she was assaulted by a coughing fit. The movement jolted her left leg and a whimper escaped her. Damn, that hurt.

Arlo jumped up at the sound and reached for the glass of water on the small table next to the bed. Gently, he lifted her head with his left hand and put the glass to her lips. "Here, drink slowly, or you'll choke even more." She tried to listen to him, but it was hard. Her throat was completely parched and if he hadn't held the glass back, that's probably what would have happened.

When the glass was empty, he carefully placed her head back on the pillow and sat on the edge of the bed. His right hand first rested briefly on her forehead and then slid down to gently cup her cheek. With a happy sigh, she leaned into his touch.

"Good, your fever is finally down. How are you feeling?" Blue eyes eyed her anxiously, and Elenya tried to smile reassuringly at him. "I feel drained, but I can think again, and as long as I keep my leg still, hardly anything hurts. I guess Dr. Xu gave me the good stuff."

"Yes, he did. Even though it didn't do much for a while, I'm glad you're feeling better so far." His shoulders slumped in exhaustion and comfortingly she nuzzled against his hand. A loving smile and gentle caress of his thumb against her cheek told her she had done the right thing.

Her eyes threatened to close again, but an important question was buzzing around in her head, which she absolutely had to ask. For a while longer she enjoyed the warmth of Arlo's hand and smile, and then hesitantly asked. "Arlo... What exactly happened?" As she already feared, the smile immediately disappeared from his lips and with a sigh he leaned back a bit, taking his hand with him.

"What's the last thing you remember?" "I... was in the ruin. Then there was an... earthquake and part of it collapsed. I got trapped and... couldn't get away, but then... you found me. We... talked, but then... everything went black..." Exhaustion made it difficult for her to speak, but she fought it. She just had to know what had happened.

"God, I was so scared when you suddenly stopped answering me. I think I aged 20 years in the last four days." Tormented, he looked down at her and her heart contracted painfully. She could not let that stand. Desperately she tried to lift her hand to his cheek, but halfway her body gave up. Arlo, fortunately, saw what she was about to do and quickly grabbed her hand before it fell back onto the bed and cradled it against his own cheek.

"You look pretty good for a 50 year old though," she tried to cheer him up. He may had deep shadows under his eyes, his hair was dishevelled and his beard could use a shave, but in her eyes he was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. The fond smile he gave in response only emphasised that even more.

"Very funny, sweetheart." He pressed a gentle kiss to her palm and then lowered their intertwined hands into his lap. With a serious look, he then continued with his narrative. "The rock that fell on you had torn a big wound in your leg and you were slowly bleeding out. When we finally reached you, you had already lost a great deal, but we were just in time. Dr. Xu and Phyllis fixed you up, but the wound had become infected. You had a high fever for the last 3 days and were unresponsive. As for your leg otherwise, the bone is broken in 2 places and will probably take a good 10 weeks to heal completely. But that's nothing that either of us couldn't handle."

10 weeks? 10 weeks in which she couldn't work properly? She would go crazy!

But before she could worry about that, Arlo made a noise as if he wanted to say more. He swallowed hard once and to her horror tears sprang to his eyes. "God, I'm so sorry my darling. This is all my fault. If I had inspected the ruin better that morning, no one would have even been allowed in until it was secured.... I put all the people in Portia in danger..." A tear escaped from his eyes and he sat completely slumped on the edge of her bed.

All sleepiness disappeared from her and desperately she tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't play along and instead she just jolted her broken leg. Pain shot up from it and made her hiss. Immediately, two strong hands gently pushed her back into the pillows and Arlo looked at her indignantly. "Elenya, what are you doing?"

A frustrated grumble escaped her. Her wonderful husband was being a complete moron again, and she couldn't even sit up to hug him!

"I want to hug you! But my damn body won't cooperate..." She pouted, eliciting a soft laugh from Arlo. "Your body's been fighting a bad infection for the last few days, you're going to have to give it some time to recover. But wait, I'll help you." He slid back a little more on the edge of the bed until he was sitting level with her thighs, then leaned down to her and gently slid his arms under her shoulder blades. He had to contort himself quite a bit to do this, but that didn't seem to bother him much. Slowly he pulled her up until she was sitting upright with her head resting against his right shoulder. But even the slight movement made her dizzy and she buried her face in his neck, whimpering softly.

His arms shifted their grip slightly and he pulled her protectively against his chest. The dizziness luckily quickly subsided and happily she snuggled against him even more. Being wrapped in his arms has always been the best feeling for her. And as she hoped, it helped Arlo too, because although his grip didn't loosen, she felt the last of the tension release from his shoulders and a relieved sigh escaping him.

They stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's closeness, when Elenya remembered why she had originally wanted to hug him. With effort, she disengaged her head from his shoulder and tried to catch Arlo's gaze. She didn't have to search for long, because he was already looking down at her in confusion.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Do you need to lie down again?" His blue eyes were laced with concern and she gave him a soft smile. "In a minute, I first have to get those stupid thoughts out of your head. After all, as your wife, that's my job." A furrow appeared between his eyebrows and she would have liked to smooth it out with her thumb, but she was already struggling to keep her head up with her own strength.

"Will I ever be able to convince you that not everything bad that happens in Portia is your fault? You're the captain of the Civil Corps and a strong fighter, yes, but even you can't beat Mother Nature. Accidents happen, love." A sheepish shrug was the only response she got.

Okay, that hasn't worked so far. Then she had to approach it differently.

With a sigh, her eyes closed exhaustedly without her consent, and Arlo immediately took that as an excuse to duck out of the conversation. "You should lie back down, honey. You need to rest."

Damn that stubborn man!

"No, I'm not done with you yet. Would you blame Sam or Remy for the collapse if one of them had controlled the ruin that day?" Challengingly, she looked up at him, and scandalised, he looked back. "Of course not. How could they have known something like that would happen?"

Waiting patiently, she looked at him until he realised what he had just said himself. Silently, he averted his eyes from her and her expression turned sad.

"Then… why are you doing this to yourself, Arlo?" Instead of answering, he hugged her tightly to his chest again and buried his face in her hair. She let him take the time he needed to sort out his thoughts and instead listened to the strong heartbeat beneath her ear.

"I... I was so scared for you. I can't stop thinking about what I could have done better. As soon as I close my eyes, I see your deathly pale face and the pool of blood under that rock in front of me. I could have lost you..." His voice broke at the last words and so did her heart.

His arms around her back tightened and so she spoke against his chest. "You did everything you could, Arlo. You found me, got me out of there in time, and now I'm here, with you..."

A hand detached from her back and instead placed itself against her cheek to lift her head. Warm lips settled on hers and lovingly Elenya returned his desperate kiss.

"I'm so glad we found you." Arlo pressed another soft kiss to her lips and then looked at her with love. "Me too..." A heavy yawn came over her and this time she allowed him to gently lay her back on the bed. He pulled the blanket that had slipped down up to her chin and brushed a loose strand from her forehead.

All her energy spent, her eyes fell closed, but something prevented her from falling asleep. Tiredly, her eyes opened again and, seeking help, she looked at Arlo, who was just about to sit down again on the chair next to the bed. "Arlo?" " Yeah?" "I'm really cold..." Now that Arlo's body heat was missing, she felt how cold she was. The thin T-shirt she was wearing under the equally thin blanket and a pair of short sweatpants didn’t do a really good job at keeping her warm.

"Oh, wait, I have just the thing. Actually, I brought it for you, but because of your high fever I wasn't allowed to put it on you. Here." Confused, she watched him take off the sweater he was wearing and only then did she notice that it was the one she liked best. With his help, she managed to pull it on and was immediately enveloped in warmth and his wonderful scent. Relieved, her eyes closed again and a soft smile crossed her lips.

"Rest, my darling. I will be here when you wake up. I love you." A soft kiss on her forehead was the last thing she registered before she fell into a finally restful sleep.

In the end, she couldn't say whether she had said her reciprocated "I love you too" aloud or not.

She slept.

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