#and now I choose to believe they sought each other out prior to each mission and went 'what are you wearing?' at least in my Thedas

[pausegame]

Rook & Lucanis + the lyrium dagger

[powerovernothing]

A winter's wind blows over rooftops, and the surrounding walls of the city of Bruma, and a fresh layer of snow slowly falls over the mountain peaks, and steadily blankets the dirt roads leading into the nearest forests, and upwards towards the temple of Cloud Ruler. And within the protective, hidden walls of one of the Blades oldest fortresses in the province of Cyrodiil, Lucien Lachance can easily feel the growing tension swirling in the air around him, even before it dares to come and darken his doorstep. From where he sits at his desk within his quarters upon the highest level of the temple, he can easily hear the distressing commotion brewing just beneath his feet. He is able to make out the heated words being spoken; the hushed, awkward apologies when a lull finally takes place, and the uncomfortable sighs as one party leaves the room below, and the sound of approaching -- stomping -- footfalls reach his ears, and then pass by his sliding door.

Lowering his quill over his, only partially completed, assignment report, he leans back into his chair and lets out a heavy sigh of his very own.

He had assumed, once he learned of his Silencer's valiant return with the supposed golden armor of Tiber Septim -- or whatever senseless nonsense Jauffre and the Blades prattled on about that he had barely paid any amount of heed to -- that Martin would surely usher Korbin from the main hall, and then tend to any and all injuries he may have sustained during such a difficult journey.

But to be able to clearly hear both of his younger siblings argue with one another from an entire floor above and know that a considerable strain was being formed as he sat and merely did nothing... it was utterly strange to his ears. Strange, and incredibly off putting.

Out of all of them within their chosen family, it was his Silencer and his Light Brother that were the ones who rarely came at odds with each other.

But of course, considering the lives they led, and their given places in the ongoing Crisis, there were bound to be instances where one would disagree with the other, or the occasional moments of wounded pride... but to know that they were actively arguing, and one had now stepped away to place distance between the other... he knew very well that he needed to act.

That he had to do something to end this madness before it was allowed to continue, or worse yet, before it somehow escalated into something far more unbearable.

Rising from his seat, he quickly makes his way out of the room and into the hallway, just in time to see the back of Martin's robing as he disappears into his own chambers and shuts the door behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, curious to know whether or not the youngest would soon to follow along after him to try and make amends for whatever it is that had happened, Lucien does not wait for a proper answer, and simply chooses to follow in Martin's shadow. To try and make sense of the situation they were now -- all three of them -- seemingly trapped within.

Reaching out, he carefully opens the door, and watches as Martin paces in place for several moments, rather oblivious to his presence, and then ultimately settles upon the surface of his bed with a deep groan.

Only when he has quieted, does Lucien dare to breech the silence. "...Is there something you wish to discuss, Septim?" He asks carefully, keeping his voice low and even. "If there is something on your mind, you very well that I am here to listen -- if you shall only let me."

Martin looks up suddenly at his voice, and yet when he realizes that it is only Lucien that has followed after him, he relaxes ever so slightly. Yet even still, the Assassin can clearly see the obvious signs of fatigue, as well as frustration etched deeply over his features.

Martin slowly shakes his head to Lucien's questioning, not at all aware of the fact that concern has spread over his own -- something of which Lucien is quite thankful of.

"No, there is nothing that I wish to discuss, not truly," Martin replies in a somewhat breathless whisper; his hands clutched tightly into white knuckled fists. "It is merely the..."

"--The state of Korbin's injuries that is troubling you?" Lucien interjects; finishing Martin's unspoken thoughts for him from where he had trailed off halfheartedly. "Admittedly, I saw very little before you all but commanded Korbin to march to his room... but from what I did, I do not believe his wounds were at all a cause for great concern. Especially not within your own capable healing hands."

"It is not merely the matter of Korbin being hurt, Lucien," Martin says with a shrug as he pulls himself up from his bedside and returns to his prior pacing as he seeks to somehow make his brother understand. "While yes, it is indeed partially to blame for my current state of being, it is more so everything else that has happened that is causing me such grief."

Lucien raises an eyebrow to his words. "Everything else?" He repeats curiously. Making his way into the room at last, he holds out his hands to Martin, and considers whether he should allow his brother to continue pacing about almost unending, or simply force him to stop in place and actually focus.

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

In the end, Lucien does not have a chance to make either choice, as Martin comes to stop in the middle of the room himself.

"...Would you not rather see how Korbin is fairing, Lucien?" Martin mutters through a quiet, almost saddened whisper that catches Lucien by surprise; his face intentionally hidden from his brother as he speaks. "After all, I am certain he would value your presence at his side, and it would be far better use of your time than simply staying here, and listening to my irrational ramblings..."

Lucien lightly scoffs and walks forward to place a gentle hand over Martin's shoulder. "You know very well that I would not have asked if something was amiss, if I did not wish to ease the weight upon your shoulders," He tells him with a faint grin over his lips, and waits until Martin actively turns to glance at him, before speaking once more.

"Thus, with that in mind, I do believe you should take this opportunity to explain to me what it is that seems to be frustrating you so"--Lucien turns on his heel, and points a finger as sets upon the edge of the bed where Martin once was--"And I do hope you shall be nothing but completely honest, and spare no details from me."

Martin watches as Lucien leaves his side and takes his place on the bed. As he does, Martin's shoulders slump, and he runs a heavy hand over his face with a grumbled breath.

"...By the Divines themselves, I do not know where to even begin..."

"I believe you have already answered your own question, Martin. Begin, of course, with the beginning, so that I may understand the source of such emotion and hope to somehow spare you any further irritation."

Martin barks an almost bitter laugh in response. "As such such a thing is so easy!" Another sigh then escapes him, and a hand rises to rub over his temple. "...But, very well. Perhaps the source of all of this is because of the mere fact that, time and again, our brother willingly ventures out on these precarious, even life-threatening assignments, and denies -- or even outright refuses -- aid of any kind!"

Lucien watches as Martin fumes -- and quite literally at that, as the Assassin notices genuine smoke beginning to rise off the Septim Heir's shoulders the more he loses himself to the call of his pent-up anger -- and chooses to remain respectfully silent.

Knowing all too well that near to anything that he sought to say in such a moment would only fuel his brother's blazing fire, instead of dousing it as Lucien would actually want. And so, he sits, and waits, and listens, and simply hopes that such flames will dissipate with time as Martin continues to work through his ire.

"You know as well as I that he all but forbids you, of all people, from accompanying him," Martin explains as he circles around the bed, and back again several times in a row. "Somehow under the foolish assumption that you would be better suited at my side, protecting me from every known threat than at his own in the field of battle!"

He pauses, and then turns to speak to Lucien directly as a deep red flush in his cheeks. "Does he not realize that here, in the Bruma mountains, I am at my safest? What possible threat is there to be concerned over, other than a scratch occurring in training, or falling asleep at my desk at strange hours of the night due to research?" A familiar sadness overtakes his words. "What truly frightens him so that we could not somehow face it together?"

Lucien sighs, as he listens intently to every word that Martin speaks, and slowly comes to the realization that not only is what he is saying undoubtedly the truth -- as his Silencer had indeed acted in such a way in regards to the self-proclaimed 'solo missions' that he had taken upon himself even before this hunt for some sort of 'holy relic of Septim's long past', and been a cause of great concern every time he all but slammed the door in his face on his way out of the temple in a near frantic rush -- but that he also readily agrees with every word just as well.

There had been countless times that Korbin's obvious lack of self-preservation had made his heart ache with deep pain whensoever he teetered on the edge of death itself upon coming back to their makeshift home, and while he knew very well that Martin surely felt the same at the unimaginable thought of losing Korbin -- especially to this damnable Crisis -- he would have never realized that his brother's emotions would have ran so deep, or felt so incredibly similar to his own thoughts on the matter.

"And to see him return to us... bruised, battered, and half alive," Martin continues on; resisting the growing urge to reach for his locks of auburn hair, and run his fingers through it as his emotions rage. "And worse yet! Knowing that he shall always play off such horrific injuries with an ill-timed joke, as if his suffering does not matter..."

Lucien watches as Martin wraps his arms around himself. "As if, somehow, he himself, matters so much less than the task at hand. That he believes the supposed mission is the only thing that is truly important... not at all understanding that each time he does such a thing, each time that he believes as much... that it slowly breaks us in two, and... and..."

As Martin words trail, and his feelings threaten to engulf him completely, Lucien slowly reaches out and grasps his closest hand in an attempt to ground him, and comfort his brother somehow...and yet, even despite the open show of affection, Martin backs away from his offered touch, and willingly succumbs to the overpowering waves surrounding his heart.

"And that is not what destroys me the most out of all of this," He manages through a painful breath; tears filling in the corners of his eyes. "It is in the understanding that makes this so utterly unbearable. Realizing that the only reason he does this... that he does any of this -- putting himself at risk, braving the depths of the worst Oblivion has to offer to the world, shrugging off every wound with a lighthearted smile, and reassurance that he should not even be speaking, when it is us that should be comforting him in such an aftermath -- is because--"

"--Because you require numerous items so that you might finally translates that deplorable Daedric book you keep within your possession, and open the Portal to those Mythic Dawn bastard's Paradise," Lucien suddenly interrupts; speaking for the first time he placed himself upon the bed, and catching Martin considerably off guard in the process.

"Is that not what you were just about to say, my brother?" He prompts somewhat carefully. "That what makes this hardest is knowing that Korbin is, essentially, doing all of this on your behalf? That he persists despite the obvious risk to his life, that he dares to venture into those fiery depths, time and again, paying no need to our worried outcries, and simply follows your every task with a smile... because he knows how important this crusade is to you, as well as how important ending the Crisis is for us, and many others?"

Lucien pauses as his words hang in the air, and then softens his tone of voice. "Is that, truly, what is bothering you the most out of all of this?"

The air in the room falls stagnant as Lucien speaks his peace. The only sound to be heard being the occasional breaths from either of the brothers, and the familiar thumping of approaching footsteps. At such a noise, Lucien grimaces inwardly; knowing that any interruptions at this point would do just as much damage as if he had thought to speak up before Martin reached the conclusion to all his rambling.

It would only cause more damage, and possibly even throw Martin further into his own fragile mind, and Lucien genuinely worries for his Light Brother's wellbeing if such a thing were to come to pass.

And yet, before he has an opportunity to prepare an angry, furious string of words for whatever nonsense Jauffre or his foolish Blades would want from Martin -- now, of all Sithis-cursed times -- it is, in fact, Martin's own voice that pulls him from his thoughts, and back into the moment at hand.

"...You are right; you are absolutely right," He says; answering Lucien's previous question. His words are spoken quietly at first, and Lucien opens his mouth to soothe him, but is soon silenced as Martin's voice shifts, and his words turn to almost frantic shouting.

"That is what makes this so hard, and by the grace of Akatosh, if there was some other way -- any other way, so that he might simply remain safe, without willingly following my word without question, without daring to dance with death with every battle fought with the Mythic Dawn and Oblivion itself, without any of this nightmare resting upon our shoulders every time he leaves our side -- then you know I would do it in less than a single heartbeat!"

Martin gestures wildly as tears begin to spill down his cheeks. "Because knowing that I am the one sending him out into danger, knowing that I am putting him at risk at all... you simply do not understand the sheer extent of the horrors I face in my own mind, as I mull over every possible what if, Lucien!"

"Oh, my dear brother, I do understand," Lucien explains to him, grasping onto the brief silence and readily filling it as Martin reaches to wipe at the tears in his eyes. "I understand more than you might realize, for such unbelievable horrors linger within my own mind every moment that passes by and he has not returned to me from some task I appointed to him just as well."

"Then you surely know how often I am brought to my knees by the endless wondering!"  Martin cries out; his fingers intertwining together, as his hands tremble. "Wondering just how much more he is capable of enduring until it becomes too much for his body and spirit to bear! Terrified in wondering if the very next time I ask of him something, even the simplest, most innocent task, he is too gravely injured for me to save his life before he fades completely. Or, the one thing that utterly shatters me, the thought of him not returning at all, and having to live with the heartbreaking guilt in knowing that I sent my very own little brother to his dea --"

Martin’s words are suddenly cut off, as he begins to waver slightly on his feet partway through his unfinished, near hysterical screaming. And in that same instant, Lucien is quickly at his side; attempting to keep him from stumbling down to the hardwood floor below them in a collective heap.

"By the Dread Father himself, Martin! Are you all right?!" Lucien hisses; one hand around Martin's shoulders, as the other latches tightly onto his nearest wrist. "Come here and sit at once, before you collapse."

Martin shakes his head in response; trying -- to absolutely no avail -- to somehow pry himself out of Lucien's iron-clad grip. "N-No... no, brother, I am--" He struggles to explain; his face paling from the mere effort of speaking. "I am... all right. I simply--"

"Do not think to lie to me, Septim," Lucien warns through a harsh whisper, as he leads him back to the bedside. "I have never witnessed you in such a state, and if your health is being compromised in the same way as Korbin's, then you shall--"

"--If you simply allow me to explain," Martin quickly, or as quickly as he can manage, interrupts Lucien’s words. Finally pulling himself free of his grasp at last and being rewarded with a furious glare in return. "Then I could tell you this is only the result of expending far too much power while healing our brother's wounds, and nothing more."

Lucien's glare turns to genuine bewilderment. "...What are you talking about?" He asks; only to then growl under his breath as he, once again, hears the sound of approaching footfalls edging just outside Martin's door... that soon shifts to worry as he comes to recognize such familiar steps, and realizes that they did not belong to neither Blade nor Grandmaster.

A bead of sweat falls down his face, and he quickly flickers a look of concern towards Martin. In the hopes that he would somehow notice and stop himself before speaking anything further.

Unfortunately, it goes completely unseen. "Such a thing is actually quite the common occurrence whenever I choose to summon forth my inner Light to heal Korbin of his injuries, Lucien," Martin begins to explain; blissfully unaware of Lucien's sudden change, or the sound directly behind him.

"Especially so when they are as grave as the ones he earned after returning from the excursion within Sancre Tor. It is a considerably draining feat, and one of the many reasons why you have not seen me like this before now -- as I do my very best to shield if from your eyes, as well as his -- and why I speak truly when I say that it is no cause for any concern."

"Ma-Martin, that is quite enough..." Lucien struggles to halt Martin's unneeded explanation; desperate to stop him before he can say the wrong word that the wrong ears may hear by mistake, and cause an already impossibly difficult situation to obtain irrefutable damage on top of everything else. "I... do believe that you should--"

And yet, much like his concerned look, his pleading falls completely upon deaf ears as Martin feels determined to soothe -- what he simply believes to be -- Lucien's worry for his own wellbeing.

"I realize this can be quite shocking at first, but it is really nothing to trouble yourself with," He says with a faint smile. "As you can so clearly see, I am already feeling far better, and the only reason you saw me in such a state to begin with is because caring for Korbin in moments such as this... well, it can be so incredibly tiring at times."

The sudden sound of a harsh slap resounds and echoes throughout the room as Lucien's palm connects painfully with his forehead upon hearing what it is that Martin so foolishly chose to say -- in this moment, of all possible moments -- and acting as though he had somehow accomplished a good deed in the process.

Breathing through his frustration, he runs a careful a hand over his face in an attempt to compose himself, but when his eyes open and he notices the one who now stands in the frame of the sliding door... his prior frustration at Martin's sheer ignorance becomes a more genuine rage.

"...Martin, you absolute imbecile!" Lucien cries out; allowing himself to fall into his own waves of anger and caring very little for what Martin may think of what he speaks, or how. "You would do well to silence yourself at once, before you say anything more that would destroy--"

"--Silence myself?" Martin repeats as confusion overtakes his eyes. "Why do you wish for me to be silent, now of all times? Did you not ask me to be honest with you from the very beginning? To hide nothing so that you might somehow ease the burden from my shoulders? And that is precisely what I have been doing! Explaining to you everything that I feel, as well as attempting to reassure you so that you will not worry about my wellbeing as you would Korbin's!"

"Yes, Martin, I realize that, and I did indeed ask of you to say all of that and more, yet--"

"--And now, somehow, you are upset with the words that I am telling you?" Martin promptly cuts Lucien off before he can complete his sentence. "To the point that you wish for me to... what? Simply stand around, and do nothing? To say nothing?"

He crosses his arms over his chest, and sighs deeply. "Lachance, please... I know this evening has been difficult for all of us, but you must somehow make up your mind, and explain to me what it is you actually want, as I surely have no possible idea what--"

One of Lucien's hands come to cup over Martin's lips, and a deep red blaze in the Assassin's dark gaze. "Dammit, Septim, that is not at all the point here!" He shouts; attempting to pull Martin away from the door, and back towards the bed. "It is not as though I wish for you to be silent in regards to what you are feeling on the matter which came before, it is simply that you have lost yourself to your own uncontrollable emotions, and you do not realize the extent of the damage you are doing because of them!"

"Uncontrollable emotions?!" Martin quickly pulls out of Lucien's grasp; stumbling slightly and staring at him with a flash of hurt. "So now my emotions are somehow uncontrollable? I thought you wished to help me, brother! That you wished to know the reason why I was so upset with what transpired between myself and Korbin. Why I was brought close to my limit with the choices he made while locating the armor of Tiber Septim! Yet, now you have begun to personally insult me for how I am feeling?!"

Lucien claps his hands together, and his words return to their desperate tone of voice. "Martin, you do not understand!" He exclaims almost frantically. "If for once in your life, you will only listen to me when I am speaking to you, then you will surely come to realize--"

"I will realize what, Lucien!? That I will come to realize what?!"

Lucien sighs deeply, somewhat saddened, and sidesteps away from Martin; gesturing towards the open door. "...That you would then come to realize that we are, in fact, not alone."

Martin pauses at Lucien's strangely emotional words, hardly expecting such a thing after his show of remarkable anger, and slowly adjusts his gaze to where he had gestured over his shoulder.

Mentally wondering to himself just what in all of the Divines themselves his brother may have have meant by not being alone, and if one of the Blades had somehow rushed into the room in the midst of their heated argument. Fearful for their lives at the noise that they may have heard in passing, and suddenly feels as though he was pierced in the chest by a barbed weapon when he finds himself staring -- not into the eyes of a friendly Blade, or even Jauffre himself -- but into a pair of familiar golden eyes instead.

His stomach twists, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake his every sense, and he quickly spins on his heel... only to see Korbin standing in the middle of his door, looking as though he, too, had been pierced by the very same metaphorical weapon, but so much more deeply.

Martin can see his shoulders beginning to tremble, he can see him fighting off the urge to raise his hands over his shoulders, or even to bury them underneath his grey locks, and his eyes... dear Akatosh, his eyes. The eyes that would normally hold a playful innocence, look at Martin with deep betrayal as their natural light dulls to nothingness.

As though every possible fear his younger brother may have had, may have carried throughout the course of their time knowing one another... had suddenly, and horrifically came true in one single instant.

And he looks so much older than Martin knows him then. He looks as though he had aged ten years within the span of several seconds, and the strength in Martin's knees begin to give away as he backs up against Lucien to try and keep himself from crumbling.

The color drains from his face as he realizes what it is that Korbin may have heard as he came to locate him, what he may have thought as he bore witness to his own screaming, frustrated remarks, and how he may have taken it without knowing that he surely did not mean it.

But he said the words, he spoke them candidly -- to Lucien, of all people, instead of Korbin himself -- and he feels as though he is no more than three inches tall underneath his brother's broken expression.

"Kor-Korbin, I--" Martin begins to say; stammering considerably as he tries to find the words need, the strength needed. And yet, underneath those faded, almost emptied eyes of his brother, he feels himself incapable of speaking anything more than merely the most foolish of question. "H-How long... how long have you... have you been standing... there?"

"Oh, quite long enough it seems," Korbin says after a moment of extended silence; his words just unemotional and as dull as his eyes. "You see, I was actually coming to speak with you. To try and apologize for all the worry that I caused because of my recklessness, as well as everything that led to you leaving my side in a huff after you healed my wounds... but I can so plainly see that it was obviously a waste of my time."

Martin shakes his head as tears begin to fill in his eyes and blur his vision. "No, no, Korbin... little brother, lis-listen to me..."

"I never actually realized that caring for me was, in fact, such an incredible weight upon your shoulders, Martin," Korbin tells him with a saddened smile, and the faintest of chuckles escaping past his lips.

"But I should have, shouldn't I? After all, I knew too well that you often worried -- to the point of breaking -- whenever I ventured out on missions for you, or for Lucien, and then subsequently returned to the temple injured in a way that you were not prepared for... but I would have never thought, would have never even guessed that your grievances truly ran so deep..."

"Korbin, no, you don't -- you don't understand, I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean it at all, I just..." Martin moves forward, extending his hand out to Korbin in an attempt to latch onto him, to try and comfort him, to help him to understand.

But the youngest among them simply backs away, as his smile spreads more painfully over his lips.

"Well then, if that is truly how you feel about the situation," Korbin says to Martin; seemingly unfazed by his words, or perhaps simply no longer caring. "How you feel about me, then I will be certain to do whatever is within my power to spare you of any further burden regarding myself and my wellbeing in the future."

Korbin then turns on his heel, leaving Martin's room, and making his way down the stairs that connects to the rest of the temple. In the very instant he is gone, completely out of view of both elder brothers, Martin feels as though his heart is shattering into a thousand pieces at his feet, and as though he surely has made the worst possible mistake of his entire thirty seven years of life.

And Lucien feels very much the same. "...Do you see now why I attempted to silence you before you dug yourself into an even dipper grave than you already were in?"

"But I didn't... that isn't what I meant, I simply-- " Martin continues to stammer pitifully as his words remain fragmented, and incomplete; after a moment, he shakes his head, and turns to look at the Assassin with a deep level of remorse in his tear stained eyes. "Lucien, you know... you know that I would never--"

"Yes, I realize that," Lucien sighs deeply; pressing a hand to Martin's shoulder. "But Korbin does not, and that is why you must rectify your terrible mistake at once."

"But... but how? What should I... what should I do to even begin to repair this?"

"Chase him before he leaves the temple grounds," Lucien explains simply. "For, if I know my Silencer well enough, that is exactly what he is in the process of doing whilst we merely linger in place. Attempting to put as much distance between himself and you as he possibly is able. Thus, you must find him, stop him, and allow him to know what you actually meant by your words in whatever way you deem most appropriate."

He pulls his hand away, and then gestures towards the door once more. "And it would be best if you hurried."

=====

Rushing out of the double doors of Cloud Ruler, Korbin makes his way towards the main gates of the temple that connects with the nearest mountain surrounding the Bruma forests. With every step forward, it is accompanied with an equally pained groan as his hands ball themselves into fists, and slam into the sides of his head.

Tears sting painfully in his eyes, and he pulls lightly on his hair as he descends past the courtyard and towards the first of two stone staircases; all the while seemingly blaming himself for what transpired, for what happened, as he mutters harshly under his breath.

"For the love of Sithis himself, I know, I know!" Korbin then shouts to the snow and the wind surrounding him; fully unaware of Martin’s presence at his heels, or the words that the Septim Heir speaks in an attempt to gain his brother’s attention somehow. "I know I should have realized something like this would happen eventually! I know I should have prepared myself for it! I know it shouldn't surprise me, considering everything that I’ve done! Just shut up, just bloody shut up! I don't need you to rub it in, and somehow make it worse!"

"Korbin!" Comes Martin’s voice at his back; and as Korbin begins to still, coming to stand momentarily in place -- once more pulling at his hair, and nearly ripping out strands of it as he continues to whisper angry words to himself -- Martin takes the given opportunity to finally close the distance between them as he reaches out to grab a fistful of his brother’s armor. "Korbin, please! You must stop trying to avoid me! Stop trying to leave my side, and simply listen for one single instance as I explain myself!"

Korbin pulls away from Martin’s touch, and from it he feels a wave of anger -- at himself, not at Korbin, absolutely not at Korbin -- for failing to pull him closer to his side, or into his arms, or even so much as getting him to turn around and face him directly.

"I know what you may be feeling," Martin explains carefully. "I know very well that you are undoubtedly upset, that you are angry, as well as hurt for what you heard me speak to Lucien so openly, but... but you aren't understanding the truth of the matter! The meaning behind my words, and that what you heard is not at all what you think, or what you may fear!"

Halfway down the remainder of the stone staircase, Korbin finally comes to a complete stop upon one of the lowest steps. Whatever attempts that he made to flee from both the temple and Martin had seemingly come to a sudden, and abrupt end. Whatever furious words that he spoke to himself, blamed himself over, had now been silenced by Martin’s own emotional outcry.

And after a moment of sheer nothingness but the sound of the chilling wind howling between them, Korbin finally speaks in a low, gruff whisper; his tone both fractured, and pained.

"Is anything that you have ever said to me... " He begins to say; his voice cracking slightly. "Anything that you ever told me in our most quiet of moments shared together... was any of it even remotely true? Or have you been lying from the very beginning?"

Martin blinks; taken aback. "...What?"

"You told me once that you cared about me, that you loved me as your sibling," Korbin turns around, and stares at Martin as tears quickly spill down his cheeks. "That I would never have to...have to second guess myself, because you always assured me that, no matter what came our why, no matter what may end up happening, I was always going to be worthy of your affection..."

Korbin allows his words to trail, and then laughs bitterly.

"Oh, do not tell me that you have somehow forgotten such sentimental claims?" He asks accusingly. "You told me after the failed mission with the spies nestled within the city, and yet... in the very moment you choose to leave my side, to speak privately to Lucien behind closed doors over what happened in the mission, of the mistakes I have deeply shamed you with... you readily admit that caring for me is incredibly tiring!"

"...Brother, no; that isn’t--"

"Meaning, obviously, that I am somehow a... a hassle? Or perhaps even a burden, if you prefer that word over the former?" Korbin walks closer; watching Martin backs up as he does. "So, tell me! What is really the truth, Septim?! Should I have even bothered becoming close with you, after all this time? Was it simply just a waste, when in reality you despised me all along?!"

Korbin’s voice raises in volume, as well as heartbreak; closing the distance between him and Martin and staring him down.

"What was the breaking point, I wonder? The fact that I am an Assassin? The way that I end lives as a chosen profession? The overwhelming bloodlust associated with it? Or perhaps it is the fact that a bastard heir of a dead Emperor cannot dare to be seen with a worthless heap abandoned upon the streets? Just admit it to my face, then!" He shoves Martin back, and his tears fall more heavily.

"If you truly hate me, then just say it directly instead of stating it in secret! Confirm every fear that I have always had, and I will leave your side for good!"

Martin stumbles from the force of Korbin's sudden push, and struggles to maintain both his physical, and mental balance. Uncertain if he should simply allow Korbin to work through his sorrow, his genuine pain over what he did, over what he caused without his intervention, or... if he should instead stand his ground against every false accusation that his brother throws angrily with an unflinching, uncharacteristic stoic expression, and only choose to speak once Korbin had successfully tired himself.

He does not have a chance to decide on either choice presented to him, for as collides into the nearest wall, a look of anger marred by a faint glow of gold shines in his eyes, and he loses control of himself -- for the third time that evening -- before his mind can tell him to simply be silent and not somehow make the same mistake twice.

"How, in the names of all the known Divines, could you possibly believe that I could ever hate you?!" Martin screams without realizing, and flinches when he hears how sharp his voice sounds in his own ears. He does not make an effort to quell his anger, even despite every part of him begging for him to understand that what he is doing could possibly push Korbin further away than he already was.

"How can you even stand in front of me and think there would ever come a time where I would somehow see you in any other way than I always have?! Do you not realize the extent of your own worth in my eyes?! Do you not understand just how much I care for you, and how..."

Martin looks away from Korbin for a moment and struggles desperately to collect his thoughts. Tears fill in his eyes just as they once had, he feels his throat tightening from the words that go temporarily unspoken, and throughout it all... Korbin only watches him with a careful gaze.

Uncertain how to feel about what is now happening around him, uncertain where all of these frantic words are going, and if it will somehow end up as it had before. Part of him wants to turn around and be ignorant. To pretend he does not hear anything that Martin is saying. That nothing he would say would make this right, and yet still he continues to remain in place.

He doesn't know if he is simply waiting for the moment for Martin to set aside all the lies, all the anger, and simply admit -- once and for all -- that he does indeed hate him, or if he is waiting for him to finish so that they can might say their final goodbyes to one another.

With a shake of his head, and a quiet laugh, he goes to open his mouth -- to tell Martin to hurry up and get this over with -- and when he does... he sees the hurt in his brother's eyes. The very same hurt that he wore when he realized that he had been listening to his hidden truth in the hallway all along, and that only triples Korbin's confusion.

Martin moves closer and touches a hand to Korbin's shoulder. "...Do you truly not realize how thankful I am for you? For being in my life, and for... genuinely saving me?" Korbin opens his mouth to speak, to accuse him of deceit, but Martin quickly hushes him.

"Korbin... you came into my life in the very moment in which I lost faith of everything I once sought to understand. When you and Lachance stood before me in that ruined chapel in Kvatch, you... you smiled at me, told me that you were there to save my life, and... I could have never understood just how truthful such words would actually become."

"...All I did was pull you out of rubble, and close a Gate of Oblivion, I didn't--"

"You did far more than you could have ever realized. Not only did you save me from the hordes of Oblivion itself, but you..." Martin's words catch in his throat, and he swallows heavily. If there was a time to be overwhelmed, and to try and hide away... it was surely not this moment. Not now. Not when he was so desperate to make Korbin understand.

Breathing in, he continues on. "You gave me purpose. You gave me a genuine reason to keep going, to keep fighting, to search for the light of a new dawn -- when everything would be all right -- when everything up until such a point told me to simply lay down and accept what had happened. That I had failed, that the Divines themselves abandoned me, that I lost everything that I cared for once again... and yet, you pulled me up. You brought me out of the darkness of my own mind, and in return..."

Korbin shakes his head; adverting his gaze and looking at every other possible thing instead of Martin’s face. "...Martin, stop. It’s all right, and you don’t have to keep--"

"--And in return... you wanted nothing more than friendship, kinship," Martin laughs tearfully as a smile spreads over his lips; not at all allowing Korbin to somehow believe the doubt that was steadily creeping deeper into his mind. "You took me aside, you called me brother, when you hardly had any reason to do so. You did not know me, not truly; you did not know of my past, or the things I had done, the people I had lost, and yet it surely did not matter in your eyes... because through it all, you still stood beside me. You still protected me. Against the Daedra, against myself..."

He sighs and places his hand against Korbin's cheek. "And yet, somehow... you truly have the gall to believe that I... could ever hate you?"

"But I heard you," Korbin explains through a whisper; pulling back from Martin's touch, and finally finding the courage to look at him. "...I heard what you said to Lachance about me. Over how caring for me was tiring, that it was an incredibly draining feat, that you had to hide your frustrations, and I was --"

"Oh, my dearest brother," Martin interjects softly; effectively cutting Korbin off before he has a chance to suffocate within his own self-loathing. "You misheard me. You misunderstood my words completely. As I only meant that it was tiring to use such powerful healing spells on your numerous injuries. That the use of my inner Light was what was draining, and I hid it from Lucien’s eyes to spare him of the worry he would have seeing me in such a state."

And then it is Korbin's eyes that widen, and blink in surprise to what he is hearing. "...Wa-Wait... what...?"

"It was not that you, yourself, was tiring, Korbin. For I would never think that towards you. Not even with my dying breath," Martin runs a hand through Korbin's messy grey locks. "You spoke of our conversation when you were ambushed by Mankar Camoran's spies upon the journey back to Cloud Ruler Temple, and yet it seems as though you failed to remember the strain such healing had on my body at the time."

He watches a frown touch Korbin’s lips as he struggles to think back. "I can easily understand how you would assume my words to be something born of the darkest nightmares that plague you during the longest nights," He tells him; his voice somewhat cautious as he treads over a difficult subject. "But I swear to you... that is all I meant by what I said. That such spell casting was deeply tiring and caused my body to be drained. Nothing more than that; I give you my absolute word."

Korbin remains silent for an extended moment. Still looking at his brother with genuine shock. Martin takes such a sight as a means to continue on; smiling more softly, and slightly more playfully.

"However, you should know that, yes, it is indeed quite a trial to look after you, time and again. Especially when you are wounded so often, and so recklessly--"

"Aha! So, you do admit it! Meaning that part of your words held some manner of truth, after all!"

Martin sighs, and pulls Korbin into a sudden, tender embrace. "...Korbin, the only reason I say this at all, is because of what seeing you so close to death has on my own wellbeing." He presses a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "Do you not understand how much it pains me to even consider the thought of losing you? Of losing the one I so openly consider my beloved younger brother?"

"But you... I thought --" Korbin stammers; unable to piece together coherent words as he tries to make sense of everything Martin is telling him. He had thought that the conversation would go one way -- one terrible, awful way -- and yet, it went in a direction that he was not prepared for.

He is uncertain how to handle the genuine emotion, the genuine affection, and in the end, he simply buries himself into Martin's embrace, and allows himself to cry.

"Answer me honestly now, brother; please," Martin whispers into his ear, still holding him tightly in his arms. "Do you truly believe I could ever possibly hate you in any way? That I could ever come to view our time spent throughout these many long months anything other than a constant source of joy, and reassurance in my life?"

"...But you sounded so furious before."

"Frustrated; not furious," Martin corrects gently. "And that was only because when you first returned, and then collapsed in my arms with so many open wounds, I truly thought that you were mere moments away from fading completely. I thought that I was too late, and thus it took every amount of strength that I still had within me to keep myself together long enough to actually save your life."

Korbin slowly pulls back with a familiar frown. "...So, you were angry with the fact that I was injured, and not...actually with me overall?" He asks him nervously. "Even despite how you shouted me back into consciousness and then basically drug me up the stairs to my room by my ear?"

"Well yes; that is exactly what it was, Korbin, " Martin says with a faint laugh. "And I am sorry for shouting at you, although I’m certain you now know the reason why I did."

"I do, but... just to be sure. You don't -- actually hate me, or regret choosing to care for me in any way?" Korbin stares down at his feet as they shuffle against the snow caked along the surface of the stairs as the second question falls from his lips.

"...Is that what you truly fear coming to pass?" Martin paraphrases Lucien’s own words.

And Korbin slowly nods. "...Part of it, but there is so much more that I fear other than simply --" His words are cut off abruptly, as Martin moves in to wrap his arms tightly back around his brother in a show of reassurance as the chill of the cold continues to whip at their backs.

At the sudden touch, Korbin loses control of himself completely, and instantly clings onto his brother as though he is surely the only thing keeping him together in this ever changing, ever worrying, almost intolerable world that they live in.

"I promise you, there is not a single moment where you have been at my side that I have felt any regret over," Martin says after a moment; pulling back, and smiling. "You are my brother, Korbin; and I love you dearly. I could never even consider hating you, no matter what it is that you do in this life, or the next."

Korbin chuckles tiredly and gives Martin a half grin. The natural playfulness had returned only slightly, and yet it still contained everything that Martin knew all too well. He shakes his head in amusement, thankful for seeing even a hint of the brother that he knew and points a finger accusingly.

"However, that was not at all an open invitation to experiment with the limits of my patience, I will have you know."

Korbin's chuckling turns to genuine laughter at Martin's mischievous words -- those of which he would be more than excited to test when this day was over, and the anger had faded with the setting sun -- and he carefully wraps an arm around his brother as the two of them begin to make their way back up the stone stairs, and towards the main entrance to the temple where Lucien was waiting for them in the distance.

"Ah, you take the fun out of almost everything, Septim."

Once they catch Lucien's ever watchful gaze, and the Assassin greets them with a gentle smile -- obviously pleased with the outcome that both of his younger siblings were more than capable of finding on their own with only the slightest push in the proper direction by his own hands -- Martin suddenly sighs and leans more heavily within Korbin's half embrace.

Korbin turns his head at the sound, and Martin smiles. "Even after all this time, I truly do not understand how Lachance does it..."

"Does... what, exactly?" Korbin asks; eyebrow raised.

"Makes situations such as this look positively like child's play," Martin explains with a shake of his head. "Is there perhaps something that I have missed? Some clever word, or secret tome, or even some special power that would effectively grant to me the mastery that our brother has over these sorts of moments in our life together?"

Korbin laughs; sounding far more genuine than he had been in hours. "Well, I'm not quite sure, Martin!" He says with another grin. "I mean... yes, Lucien has quite the talent for moments like this; there is truly no doubt about that, but I don't think it has anything to do with some sort of magical power! It would make sense if there was, but I think..." His words trail slightly, and when Martin cranes his head to meet his gaze, Korbin’s grin then spreads from ear to ear. "Well, I simply believe that after so long, and how many times he has had to pull us both back from the darkest depths of ourselves, that it is just a natural talent brought on from a near endless amount of patience, and practice."

"Oh, is that so true?" Martin matches Korbin's laughter. "Well, here is another question, then! Do you believe that it would be possible to learn such a skill? Or that he could train me if I so asked?"

"Perhaps!" Korbin cheerfully replies; gesturing towards the open temple doors that Lucien had disappeared into once he witnessed them smiling and sharing a laugh. "And if you do, then perhaps you will end up honing such a skill far more easily than you have your numerous Assassin training!"

Martin's laughter fades to a low chuckle, reaching up and ruffling Korbin's hair as they walk into the temple together. "I shall have you know that such training is coming along swimmingly, and there have been quite many times where I have nearly caught Lucien completely by surprise with my ability in the art of stealth."

"Now I know that you are lying, Septim!" Korbin ducks under Martin's hand and rushes forward to escape his sudden onslaught of playfully unwanted affection. "You being able to get the jump on Lucien when I, myself, could never?! Nothing more than absolute lies!"

He waves a dismissive hand. "But regardless of such – oh-so obvious – lies, I do so wonder what is it we should call this brand-new training regimen for the both of you? Every good means of training should have a proper title, as you should surely know! Brother protection, perhaps? Korbin defense 101?"

"I'm quite fond of the latter myself, I do admit."

"Ah, as am I!" Korbin nods almost proudly. "Let us go and locate our wayward shadowy sibling at once and ask his opinion on such things!"

Martin smiles warmly. "After you, dear brother."

And as the familiar twinkling fully returns to Korbin’s eyes, he then quickly turns on his heel. Dashing away from the main hall and making his way towards the staircase leading to the higher rooms within the temple walls with a boyish laugh -- as well as a impish taunt in the hopes that Martin would willingly follow after him with similar speed in a sudden, impromptu game of chase to see who would be able to reach Lucien's room before the other.

Martin watches him go with a gentle, content chuckle at the absolutely wonderful sight before him. Signifying that things had returned to reality normalcy once again -- or rather to their own personal definition of such a word -- and then he slowly breathes in… before accepting his brother's given challenge and tailing along after him in all too pleased bliss.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇꜱ | ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴏɴ ᴊᴏᴇꜱᴛᴀʀ x ʜɪᴛᴍᴇɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | Yakuza!AU 19+ [𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸] One-Shot

One of the many versions of Jonathon’s beginnings~! There will be three more different reader types coming out with different perspectives of seeing Jonathon in a different light~! hehe I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you all so much for the support for this AU! ;; 

**WARNING: There is going to be a lot of mention of torture and bodily harm within these stories in this AU so please, if you are uncomfortable with the subject or have a weak stomach DO NOT READ.

TW; Gore ; bodily harm ; blood ; corpses 

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

The tension in the air was thick. Practically weighing down on the young individuals in the room as the large figure sat at his desk. The normal compassionate blue eyes, now a vortex of rage as the calm tone in his voice sent shivers down their spines. 

“Explain to me, how a simple-- a simple, task. Has brought not only this absolute garbage of a report, but more of an eye onto our organization, hm?”

It was silent, the voices of the individuals caught and choked up in their throats as the glowering stare he held had them practically pinned down into the floor. As one individual attempted to speak, words slurring and jumbling up together, a loud bang! resounded throughout the once silent office. 

The man’s body fell unceremoniously onto the ground in a heap of blood and brain matter. Wide and fearful eyes stared at the now corpse of their companion before sharply returning to the figure at the desk as he set the gun down. A disdainful look on his features as the swirling vortex of blue evolved into a storm of irritation and rage.

“Let’s try that again shall we? We all know how to speak the English language, there’s no need to stumble over such simple words. So again, explain to me what brought on this disgusting act you lot pulled.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Jonathon Joestar, a man of compassion and understanding. For the head of the world’s largest syndicate, he wasn’t necessarily the big bad individual everyone made him out to be. 

Walking down the grand halls of the Joestar estate, the individual couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread in her stomach as she noted the eerily silent hallways and lack of noise that failed to pollute the empty air she waltzed through. 

If anything, just hearing her own footsteps echo throughout the building set her heart and mind in an uneasy spiral of paranoia as she finally found herself in front of a set of large immaculate doors. When she had first accepted the offer to work a mission under the Joestar estate, she was ecstatic. Now? The unease she felt and silence that greeted her when she first arrived had her rethinking her decision. 

She had worked for many organizations. Each one having her do horrific kills and duties, but nonetheless every time she set foot into their buildings she would always be greeted with something, anything; and to come to the Joestar estate with nothing? It just continued to work against her initial judgement of the Joestar syndicate. 

“Dammit, (y/n) this is no time to get cold feet!” 

Irritation for herself began to bubble in her chest as she tightly clenched her fists. She had worked endless jobs. Each further staining her hands red. Her reputation as a highly sought after hitmen should be something she was proud of, yet here in front of these doors she couldn’t help but feel as though she shouldn’t be here. 

Biting her lower lip, she hunched in on herself slightly before roughly smacking the sides of her face and forcing her body to move forward as she knocked on the grand doors. 

Again, silence greeted her, and she couldn’t help but feel as though she came to the wrong building after a moment of nothing. Yet the strong yet calm voice behind the oak doors came out clear as she instinctively straightened up. 

“Come in.”

Without even realizing, her body moved on it’s own as she grasped the cool bronze handle before pushing the doors open. The sight that greeted her however, was something she was sure she would never forget. 

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The first thing she could sense was the smell. The sharp coppery tang she was familiar with told her much of what had occurred in this room. If that wasn’t enough, seeing the splatter of blood and brains on the carpet and walls was enough to tell her much more of what happened, but what really had her senses going haywire and the desire to flee from the man before her was the disemboweled man hanging just a couple of feet behind the large man.

“I apologize for the mess, I had a meeting with these gentlemen, and I suppose their inadequate answers granted them this unsightly demise. Again, I do apologize as I didn’t want this to be the first thing you saw...”

Strong deep blue eyes met her own (e/c) one’s as a sudden chill ran down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up as he spoke to her, the words he said holding a promise in them if she happened to fail.

“...but I do believe it will give you a rather good idea if you were to give me a poor result in this deal.”

The smile that crossed his features was anything but comforting as she could only return a sharp nod to him, distrusting of her voice to not fail her as she swallowed the desire to curse and yell at the man before him.

“Hm? Where are my manners? Please. Have a seat, we have much to discuss in regards to the deal.”

His gesture to the seat adjacent to his desk had her hesitant at first, but seeing the blood staining his hand and sleeves had her thinking otherwise as she quickly seated herself. 

“I must say, I’m surprised you didn’t high tail it out of here.”

The tone in his voice is light, joking almost; but the look his eyes held said otherwise as he pulled out a handkerchief from one of his drawers, staining the white fabric red with blood and...other fluids. The thought sent bile rising up her throat as her thoughts went straight to the disemboweled man hanging in the corner of the room. 

“Most hitmen I hire usually leave to recollect themselves after bearing witness to one of my more...distasteful meetings. So congratulations to that, you’ve definitely peaked my interest.”

She didn’t know what to say, in one instance she felt proud of herself for the accomplishment, but in truth she wasn’t sure if it was an accomplishment at all. Instead, she choose to speak. Her words carefully picked as she steadied the tremble in her voice.

“Thank you Mr. Joestar, I will admit, that walking into this situation was...less than ideal, but we do have a deal to discuss, and as I’m sure you’re aware my services are quite...as much I hate to say it, popular. So please, if we may.”

Applauding herself for not stumbling over her words, she finally allowed herself to melt into the chair as the tactical and business side of the deal began to lull her into a familiar space. Yet still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off as she spoke with Jonathon.

“Of course, my apologies again. Now then...this deal is simple. Nothing too hard or out of the range for you, and if you do well please do expect me to request your services once again. If you happen to fail...well. I’m sure the room speaks for itself.”

His grin was unsettling, and the way he held himself sent nothing but warning alarms through her head as she could only mutely nod in acknowledgement before a manila file was presented to her.

“Very good. Now, here is the information we’ve collected on the target. I’m expecting clean results Ms. (y/n).” 

Again, she could only nod numbly as she stood up, fingers brushing the pure and untainted folder before a hand snatched her wrist in a bruising grip. A scream right at her throat as her (e/c) met electric blue. The look in his eyes raised her hackles as she stood completely still.

“Don’t fail me now.”

Keeping his gaze, she steeled herself as she spoke, forcing the scream she had prior down into the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t fail Mr. Joestar, I only succeed.”

Amused by her statement, he let go as she collected the file, calmly making her way towards the door. Though a question popped into her mind as she readied herself to leave, and as she grabbed the handle she couldn’t help but look back at him. 

“Mr. Joestar---.”

“Jonathon.”

“...Jonathon, if this task was so simple. Why did you request a deal with me? I’m almost certain any of your own men could handle this. So, why?”

“It’s quite simple Ms. (y/n). It’s an evaluation. A simple test that I’d like to see the results to; and if I happen to like the results. Then you can guarantee yourself much higher paying jobs and I suppose...an invitation of sorts.”

Deciding she’s heard enough she gave a slight nod and a bow to the man before she left the room. The door shutting loudly behind her, and once she could feel the two doors meet, she rushed out of the estate. Heart pounding wildly at the last words Jonathon spoke to her. 

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Jonathon Joestar, a man of compassion and understanding. Behind that kind face though, was a beast that no one dared to even affiliate themselves with. The sharp words, and the deranged actions he did are never mentioned when meeting him, and for good reason as well. 

No wonder he’s called: The Devil with Two Faces.

[talyn-the-warlock]

(Finally getting back into the swing of writing, Guardians!)

The glare of fluorescent lighting shone through the jumpship's windscreen, assailing Talyn's tired eyes with hard light. She closed them, her eyelids giving her pounding head the barest respite. Leaning back in her seat, she drew a deep, measured breath. In, to a count of four. Her imagination made brilliant, twinkling starlight fill her breast in lieu of stale hangar air. As she breathed out, her mind saw inky smoke pour out of her nostrils. With it went the pain in her head, and the anxiety in her chest. Her Light was capable of so many things, if she gave it a little coaxing. Something always forced back the murk inside her when she breathed in this way. When she was mindful of herself, her actions, and her presence in the natural world, a tranquility followed. Now, in this fleeting moment of solitude, she sought it as best she could.

Talyn didn't know why she felt the way she did about such a routine mission. She had fought the Cabal in entrenched attrition for days at a time. Alone, she had hunted beasts of the Hive who refused to die no matter how many times they were felled. The halls of the Vault of Glass had stolen eons from her. There was no logical reason for a simple strike operation to leave her this way. On a good day, Talyn would have torn through it effortlessly and asked for more. Perhaps it was merely a matter of circumstance. It was a scenario she hardly could have daydreamed just a year ago. An unlikely Eliksni ally, leading Talyn and her best friend to a time-sensitive battle against a beast of their past. Two Guardians bested a trial intended for three, and were rewarded with a weapon of dubious origin. She and Hangman would have a field day picking the gun apart, but that was for another day. A promise called to her now. She wasn't about to rest until it was upheld.

A heavy clomp at her six o'clock made Talyn snap her eyes open, craning her head around to make sense of the noise. A redheaded Hunter clad in chess-set monochrome had appeared just beyond the cockpit's entrance, arms still curled around the handrails of a ladder. She had always warned Soren (and the members of her clan, besides) about sliding down those things. One of these days, she'd trip and need an embarrassing resurrection. It didn't stand repeating an umpteenth time- if it hadn't stuck before, there was no reason to believe it would now. The Hunter was nothing if not reckless and free, and it wasn't hard for Talyn to concede it was one of the many things she loved about her. As her friend approached with a whistle on her lips, the Warlock set her eyes back forward and pretended to be busy. Sending her Ghost to ready her ship would give her an alibi if Soren had noticed her awkward gawking.

"Going somewhere?" she asked in a smooth drawl, taking hold of her shoulders. The feeling of Soren's firm hands working kinks out of her muscles was a welcome one. "You're scheduled for R&R after this, dude."

"So are you," the Warlock parried with a cocked eyebrow. Soren was still in full armor and cloak, revolver strapped to her thigh and rifle slung across her back. It was clear she was in as much hurry to rest as Talyn was.

"Touché," she conceded, leaning over the pilot's chair to tap in a set of coordinates. "My buddy told me there's a floating island in the EDZ right now, though. It sounds bitchin', you wanna come check it out?"

Talyn shook her head. A glance to the side told her that her vessel had just pulled in to dock. The only thing keeping her seated now was the massage she was getting. "I can't. I've got a prior engagement."

"With?"

"Petra Venj."

"C'mon Tal…" Soren's voice had taken an almost maternal edge. It was plain she knew exactly what her intentions were. "...you're exhausted. Don't say you ain't, I can tell. Why don't you just stay here and chill?"

"Because I promised," said the Warlock. Stinging memories of her battles across the Tangled Shore and muted conversations with the Queen's Wrath rose and fell in her like choppy seas. The jolt in her chest synchronizing with the bark of the Ace of Spades as she took an innocent life. Her silence when those six Guardians left to slay Riven, doubts stayed on the tip of her tongue. Everything she could have done. Should have done. Talyn's home from a life before was cursed, tainted, teetering on the brink as endless repetition tore the defenders down. As far as she was concerned, the blame rested with the vengeful fool who killed Uldren Sov. She needed to make it right. "They need me."

As she tried to rise, Talyn found herself pinned by the grip on her shoulders. Nothing hostile, but enough pressure to make erecting herself difficult. "Listen...I realized a long time ago they need something we can't give," Soren said. "You don't have to keep doing this to yourself."

"If not me, then who?" Talyn demanded, far sharper than she had intended. "I'm not giving up on them, Soren."

"Ain't asking you to. I just want you fighting your own battles first."

Frustration swelled, a fanged leviathan threatening to crest the storm-lashed waves of emotion rolling inside her. This was her battle. Nothing would be in the state it was were it not for her blunder. For everything she had done, Talyn had been the architect of the Awoken's misery. Often she wondered if she was the only one still enthralled to duty. Too many Guardians had become wrapped up in old world arms races and the games of a snake to pay the Dreaming City attention. Soren was one such, even if she hadn't thought much of it. She didn't understand. Maybe she couldn't. But Talyn knew the Hunter was a good woman. She was only trying to help, putting her best friend's welfare well before the plight of a doomed people. There was no shame in keeping your own. In a breath, Talyn swallowed her knee-jerk reaction. She didn't plan to back down, but she reassessed her strategy.

"To choose your battles is a privilege," she said with finality. "A luxury the Corsairs don't have."

Soren shook her head with a small huff. "You reckon you can help them, Tal?"

"I have to try."

It seemed to take a moment to chew, her gaze going from the dashboard to the Awoken and back again. Her grip on Talyn's shoulders slackened, arms instead wrapping around her to hold her from behind. It too was welcome, and Talyn conceded to lean back into the embrace. Drawn-out seconds ticked by in silence. Neither woman moved, save for to look into each other's eyes. Talyn could see everything her friend was thinking. Debating. Coming up with alternatives and frustrated argument only to shoot them down one by one. It was clear nothing she could say would satisfy either of them. She closed her eyes and nodded, chuckling at it all. Her breathy little laugh made Talyn smile, too. They had come to a quiet catharsis, the kind of mutual understanding only friends so close could share. The Warlock supposed now would be as good a time as any to show herself out.

Before she could work her way up, Soren again leaned forward and punched new commands into the ship's console. An inquisitive tone took Talyn's voice. "What are you doing?"

"Setting a course for us," she explained, her air of cool mischief creeping back into her voice.

Puzzled, Talyn couldn't help but ask. "Where?"

"The Dreaming City," Soren answered. "Don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

She replied through a glowing smile. "Of course not."

[zenyattayatta]

You wanted angst so maybe could you do headcanons for how Reaper, Mccree, and 76 would react if they cheated on their S/O and regretted it, only for the s/o to find out and want to leave them?

A/N: Decided to pair these up cause they’re similar. 

 Also, if someone cheats on you dump them. 

Reaper

Reyes hadn’t meant for it to go that far. A little seducing? Sure. Taking someone to bed? No. He wasn’t sure what prompted him since the information he needed was at already at hand but a few lingering touches had somehow pulled him to confines of someone else’s bed. 

However, he had left his comm on. The sounds of a heated moment flooding through the receiver of your Intel office. It had thrown you completely off since the action was not necessary to the mission. 

You tossed the equipment in a moment of anger and bitterness. Reyes finding out much later that the forced cut of communication had meant you had heard the entire thing. Immediately regret floods his system. 

He knew his main circle had found out upon landing when the stern glare and tight-lipped answers from Ana had been an indication that you sought comfort from her. 

He asks about your whereabouts to which Morrison answers bitterly given that Ana might have ripped him a new one if she spoke. They leave him with a vague answers as you choose to keep your distance.

Its a couple of weeks before he finally sees you. You having strut into his office which makes him feel as if the world collapse on him as you do so. Its within work hours but he breaks his professionalism in order to vocalize his apology before you slap a thick sheet of paperwork on his desk. 

“Transfer papers?” The stressed crease above his eyebrows is evident. “You’re transferring to Amari’s division? Why?” Your lips are held in a tight line as you respond. “You know why, Gabriel.”“Cariño-” He opens his mouth but you cross your arms as if to shield yourself away. The action tearing at his heart. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Gabe. Please just sign the papers.” 

And so he does. The commander watches you leave with a clenched jaw and slamming fist into his desk in frustration when your presence is gone. 

Soldier 76

This mission has been rough on the both of you. Testing the lengths of your relationship in more ways than one but ,once a breakthrough had been made, boy were you both grateful.

It gives you two some room to breathe as the mission comes to a close. So, Solider decides to cut loose at a bar while you take a night on the town. It was a mutual agreement on the different relaxation methods which in the end meant you’d meet back at your hotel.

What you hadn’t though to occur was for you to find your boyfriend plastered beyond control. A stranger underneath him in the early throes of intimacy.  

He’s drunk but you’re fuming. An argument breaks out,  his words are slurred as he tries to justify himself claiming he thought it was you. Yet, your argument stands in which that there is no excuse no matter the circumstance -he should know better and he knows that its the truth.

The person he’s brought back has left moments long ago and your not quite sure why your still here either. Shortly after arguing till your in tears and your voice can’t take it, you take your awaited exit. Leaving the old solider alone with his thoughts for the night.

Jack wakes up the next day with a massive hangover and empty room. Winston alerts him that you had finished the mission the night prior (which he assumes was after you left) and pick up was awaiting him at the rendezvous point. 

Soldier’s gaze follows you as set his things down upon the air craft. He takes a moment to compose himself before trying to apologize. 

“Sweetheart,” He begins before you turn to him. Your eyes are red and puffy, the shaded purple under them letting him know you hadn’t slept at all. His chest aches and he can feel the embarrassment of his action rush to his face. “Save it, Jack.I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.” You bite back bitterly. “I trusted you and I can’t believe you betrayed that. I hope you understand how bad you’ve hurt me.” He falters when he notices your glare is set in stone and nothing he say will change that. With a nod, he sits a good distance from you as regret weighs down his entire being. 

He hates himself. He regrets letting himself stoop to that level but knows your justified in breaking it off with him. The leather of his gloves squeak as his hands form angered fists.

He could never keep anything good now can he?

Jesse McCree

You’d notice how he’d been distracted a couple of times prior. His only reply to your speaking had been a series of hums and grunts as his gaze focused on something else.

McCree tells you he’s going out with co-workers that night. A small celebration for god-knows-what but you give him a kiss and with that you part. 

Its not until the next Reyes comms you to wake him up that you find him a mess of tangles sheets and a body laid next that is not yours. Furious and disheartened your voice is cracked as you wake both of them with your breakup before storming out. 

It takes him a while to adjust. Jesse slowly coming to terms with how different it is without you at his side. The way you loved and assured him gone to which left a lingering emptiness in its place. 

He comes to regret it immensely. The Cowboy Casanova angry at himself for choosing to ruin something good he had going for a night out and one-nightstand. 

Jesse comes up with an apology before searching for you. Finding you hard at work and approaching you with faux self-assurance.

McCree opens his mouth to speak before a poised hand is raised. He watches as you cut him off, level headed with a stoic face. The radiant smile gone at his presence. “Let it go, McCree.” You frown, watching his crest fallen expression. “I can’t believe I gave you my all and...” Your broken sniffle pinches his heart. “This isn’t something you can charm you way into fixing. Just go.” 

He doesn’t want to but he lets it be. He made a decision that hurt you real bad and, honestly, he wouldn’t take himself back either.

Hanzo Shimada

Your relationship had been challenging from the start. He was a soon-to-be Clan leader and your work within castle grounds hardly constituted you a suitable partner. Though, that did not deter you two from falling for each other. 

Genji had found it rather humorous but supported the two of you the best he could. The younger brother ecstatic to have someone melt the cold heart of his older counterpart.

It wasn’t until the elders has wished for Hanzo to seduce a member from another clan. His orders given were to allure them with promises of relations in exchange power. 

Hanzo had been hesitant to take it, his love for you a striving force, but duty called and he knew what must be done. 

The call in to work that night is unexpected but you take it upon yourself to stop with Hanzo in order to surprise him. Only then do you find him undressed and in bed with another. Hot anger flushes your face before you storm out without a word.

Genji is the first to stop his brother the night after. His eyebrows furrowed in anger at what you explained to him shortly before escaping the castle grounds the night prior. 

“You are the last of everyone to be telling me such things.” Hanzo growls at his brother. Genji tightens his hands into fists. “That may be so but the one’s I take on as lovers know from the start, brother.” The ninja’s glare is staggering. Hanzo’s jaw aches from being clenched as Genji continues.“They genuinely loved you, you made them believe you could give them the world. Even I am not that heartless, Hanzo.”

He regrets what he did to you everyday. The pang of guilt hidden behind the stoic face of a ruthless clan leader. 

Yet, Hanzo lets you go like water through his fingers. Your love had not meant to be from the start, he convinces himself. Maybe in a different life, under different circumstances, you two could be together.

[pruittwrites]

25 Devotions- Day Four

The Native: His First Words

This is the continuing celebration of The Native, in words and pictures.  

Matthew 3:15 And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now:for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him.

A child’s first words are huge. I would guess that every parent remembers them. We don’t know what The Lord Jesus’ first words were, each Gospel chooses a different phrase to introduce us to The Master’s Voice. In Matthew, He is talking to John The Baptist. Suffer in the original means allow. Jesus is saying, Allow this now, for we are called to fulfill all righteousness.

Mark 1:14-15 14 Now after that John was put in prison, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, 15 And saying, The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand:repent ye, and believe the gospel.

The verse before it is very important as well. The catalyst of this setting is John’s imprisonment. In the Hebrew John means “Jehovah Has Graced”, or the Grace Of God. Man had sinned, and fallen into despair and degradation. For us, the possibility of Salvation was non existent before Calvary. That was when The Lord Jesus walked into the center of the world preaching The Gospel.

In Mark He mentions fulfillment again.”The time is fulfilled, The Kingdom Of God is here, repent, and believe the Gospel. ” In other words, Grace is here, it’s time to make a choice, discard your sins, and believe.

Luke 2:49 And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?

Luke gives us the earliest words of Jesus, at twelve years old. This is not the bearded face of The Carpenter, this is Christ in transition from boy to teen, the age that began the journey from child to man.

Sought: g2212. ζητεω zeteo; of uncertain affinity; to seek (literally or figuratively); specially, (by Hebraism) to worship (God), or (in a bad sense) to plot (against life):— be (go) about, desire, endeavour, enquire (for), require, (x will) seek (after, for, means).

He made statements in Matthew and Mark, in Luke and John He asks a question. Jesus uses a word, sought. He had experienced it’s meaning, in both a positive and a negative way. The Shepherds and The Wise Men sought to worship Him. Herod sought to kill Him. Every one will seek in some way. Either to join Him, or to attempt to destroy Him out of their life.

The Lord Jesus second sentence clarifies our options. If you seek Me, then it’s going to be about the work of God, the work of Redemption. Everything else is secondary. Jesus later said “Seek ye first The Kingdom Of God, and His righteousness …” Prior to saying it, He lived it.

John 1:38 Then Jesus turned, and saw them following, and saith unto them, What seek ye?– They said unto him, Rabbi, (which is to say, being interpreted, Master,) where dwellest thou? 39 He saith unto them, Come and see. They came and saw where He dwelt, and abode with Him that day:for it was about the tenth hour.

In the fourth Gospel, He is followed by two disciples of John. They were Andrew and John. His simple question, “What Seek Ye?” The answer, was, where you dwell, or abide. Jesus’ response to them is His answer to us all. “Come and see.” His life, death, and resurrection made it possible for us to be with Him. Something that was impossible until a child cried in Bethlehem.

When you combine the message of all four of “His First Words”, you see The Kingdom’s Mission Statement. The Lord Jesus allowed Himself to go through all that He suffered so that He could impart His righteousness to man. He made it possible for us to choose Heaven as a future. To leave all our sin, and all our past at an altar. To join Him in the work of The Gospel. Asking others in pain, like we were, what are you seeking? When they ask if this is really an option? We can smile with the hope of Heaven, “Come and see.”

from 25 Devotions- Day Four

[areklinaesir]

Æsir Chapter 6: All or Nothing

Atlas looked around the room at the others. All of Class-0 were sitting quietly together. Ryder even ignored Lilith sitting two spots away where she would keep glancing at him with a disappointed expression. Lily looked on the verge of tears and sat on Ace’s lap. Ace had his arms around the little girl but sat watching the door. Ryder slouched down in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and a sour expression adorn his face. Jill and Vaan sat quietly on either side watching him. Malik had pulled his legs to his chest and was playing with his shoelaces and Madison watched Atlas with a thoughtful expression.

Atlas lifted an eyebrow at her in question.

“Do you think they will give Kyra to him,” she asked quietly so no one but Class-0 could hear.

“No. He���ll have to take her by force, no matter how much Kyra believes they should just hand her over.”

“So we’re going to war. How can we stand against an army?”

“We’ve done it before.”

“Yes, but William has guns.”

“So do we. Mila’s class are trained snipers. Class-6, 7, and 10 are all trained in firearms. Ace and Jill use firearms. We are all training in military arts. We’ll be fine.”

“So were the students at Eurig Academy. You heard what Kyra said before. The academy is starting to fall.”

“They’ll get aid. Xylan and Mortain will probably be there to help them soon.”

“Will anyone help us?”

Atlas paused. Would anyone help them? Most of the other academies didn’t care about theirs. The only thing they represented were backwater brats who had some talent but not enough to warrant attention, even though ten years ago Kyra had shown the world not to underestimate Aneria Academy. Out of that very academy came the world’s most gifted ice wielders in Kyra and Mila, Skylar was more powerful than even Fiontan’s Key, Dante Luxe. No one would help them.

“I thought as much,” mumbled Madison.

Atlas turned away from her. Everyone else in the room other than Class-0 were talking and laughing. Suddenly, Atlas realized how different Class-0 was from others. Yes, they were all taught the same general curriculum, but Class-0 had a far more serious role to play in the greater scheme and at a time like this, where their leader was on the chopping block and war was right in front of them, they all knew it was no longer time to be children, but to be guardians. So while others laughed and joked, they prepared themselves for war. Atlas felt a pair of eyes on him again and looked up to the blue eyes of Ace. Lily had curled into him and was attempting to sleep again.

Suddenly, Ryder burst.

“We have to find out what’s going on.”

“No, Kyra will handle things.”

Atlas’s comment only irritated Ryder more.

“She’d hand herself over if she had her choice. We all know that. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the academy. We’re her guardians. We can’t let her.”

“Actually, we are not her guardians.”

“Atlas, shut up.”

“We don’t know how to use our affinities much or any control, though.”

“To hell with it. Training is trial and error. We can teach ourselves if need be that way. If we’re going to war, there isn’t going to be time for training anyway. We’ll never be able to be guardians if this happens regardless. We have to take this into our own hands.”

Ace finally spoke.

“As much as I hate to say this, Ryder is right.”

“Of course I am!”

Ace held out his hand, shifting his fingers through a series of signs and he was immediately holding a small flame in his hand. He promptly closed his hand and the flame died.

“I knew I was not the next Key, and once I realized what my affinity was, I sought out Skylar without Kyra’s permission long before Kyra told us our roles.”

Atlas looked at his normally by-the-book rival-turned-friend.

“I have also done the same,” Madison stated.

“So have I,” chimed in Jill, Vaan, and Malik. Ryder grinned.

“So the only one who had no training prior to a month ago is Atlas.”

Atlas felt his expression tighten.

“Lily hasn’t….”

“Lily has the most training out of all of us. She told me her father had a water affinity and he trained at Mesi. He was teaching Lily since she was old enough to understand.”

“And there you have it. Atlas is useless.”

“He is not. He has natural control.”

The whole group turned to Kyra. Despite it being early in the day, she looked tired. Atlas let his eyes drift over their 27 year old teacher. Her face was paler than normal. She didn’t just look tired, she looked ill.

“And, what interesting information I have gotten the opportunity to gather. So you all have gone behind my back.”

They all had the decency to look ashamed.

“Good.”

Atlas and the others stared at her in shock.

“Well, not good that you went behind my back, but that you all have been training. It will make things much easier in the future. I want you all to continue as you have and if we do go to war, which is a very real possibility now, you will be better prepared to protect the academy.”

“And you,” Ryder interjected.

Kyra looked at him before responding.

“No, not me. No matter what training you have had, you are not prepared to take on the role of guardian. I will have a series of guards and be unable to leave. You all will be assigned missions and act as the soldiers you have been trained to be.”

“This sucks,” Ryder whined.

“Ryder, how do you think I feel about being stuck here? I’ve been forced to stay inside these walls for three years now.”

“Which really sucks…. Sorry.”

“Come on. We’re leaving. I’d prefer we get to the classroom before I murder someone.”

“William?”

“No.”

“Skylar,” Ace stated.

She didn’t deny it, instead opting to walk out of the room and allow her students to follow. Suddenly, Atlas realized what Ace was hinting at. Skylar and Kyra. All the rumors, their close relationship which people said was unusual even among Key and guardian. They had feelings for each other but neither could act on it as long as she was Key. They nearly made it to the room when Mila came around the corner. She attempted to backpedal but couldn’t. William stopped right behind her and watched the nine stop in the corridor.

“An interesting pack of misfits you have, Zaran. Are these to be your guardians? They don’t look like much.”

Atlas watched quietly, but underneath he seethed. She could tell by the way Ace and Ryder straightened they were still remembering his insult from earlier.

“Which one of these will you bed? Probably the fire user again. It’s the older one carrying the little girl, right? He looked an awful lot like Fahl.”

Atlas watched Kyra smirk.

“You didn’t do your homework. Maybe if you paid a bit more attention to your lackey’s reports you would know he is a Fahl. Ace Fahl, youngest of the family.”

William allowed his eyes to drift over Ace again.

“So brothers. Interesting kink you have, Zaran.”

“Fuck off, you arrogant shit,” Ryder snapped.

Mila jumped in.

“Your lordship, please excuse Ryder. He is impulsive and doesn’t know how to control himself.”

“Oh, I can control myself. I just choose not to.”

“Wind users. Always such a pain.”

Atlas stared at the man. He was able to identify them by look and a glimpse at their personality. A dangerous trait.

“Ryder, get in the room.”

“But…”

“Do as I say.”

“Fine. But this isn’t over.”

The others followed Ryder in except Ace who had put Lily to the ground and Atlas. They stood on either side of Kyra. Atlas felt William look at him and resisted the urge to sneer at the man.

“My personal life is none of your concern.”

“It may not be now, but once you are my Key, it will be.”

“If you think that I’ll cooperate even if you do gain me, you are horribly mistaken.”

“That may be so but I think you want to keep your successor safe.”

His eyes drifted to Atlas.

“You harm any of them and nothing will stop me from taking your life.”

“Fire again. Now, my dear, is that a declaration of war?”

“A personal war, nothing to do with the academy.”

She pushed Atlas and Ace forward into the room and closed the door behind her but not before giving William a look that Atlas was well aware of the meaning.

Game on. And the stakes were all or nothing.