#and tori having some Complex Feelings Of Self-Loathing About How His Sister Expects Him To Treat Her

[tanoraqui]

ooh if we're bringing this back, I'm adding ALL the bonus tags.

OP: #this is the most wish-fulfillment thing i have EVER WRITTEN with regard to jame/tori #it is just tori going FULL TYR-RIDAN out of pure protective rage over his sister #what's going on with jame here? dunno #think rawneth may have locked her into A soul image #whose? unsure at this time! #all that matters is that jame is unconscious and tori is about to teach everyone a valuable fact about the power of unfettered creation #smash cut to jame waking up and immediately disregarding 'tori killed all these people to save me' as a possibility #and tori having some Complex Feelings Of Self-Loathing About How His Sister Expects Him To Treat Her

me on part 2: #i ended on the dramatic line but for the record the /next/ line is #holly (watching on harn's other side; somewhat shaken): ...could Tori always do that? #(no less certainty than kindrie what just happened; though somewhat less understanding - hollens lord danior #has some 700 kendar bound to him personally (the rest to assorted stray cousins and uncles)) #...i have a cool idea for how/where jame's trapped too #so maybe i'll write hte obligatory 3rd pov where she's there and then gets rescued and wakes up to see what tori did #...it's messier up close

Prompt: Jame/Tori, someone in the scene is tied to a chair

send in a character/pairing and a prompt, and I’ll write a short fic!

“So,” Torisen said quietly, crouched before his sister. Jame was unconscious, blood running down her face and matting the unbound curls of her hair as it dried, making her sharp features and stark pallor ghoulish. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths beneath her shirt, but her jacket had been taken, her belt, every pocket emptied, even her hair taken down and picked through, and her hands and feet were bound to the heavy chair with wire.

Rawneth’s people, sent to catch themselves a Nemesis, had done their work well.

Torisen had been sternly informed, in no uncertain terms, that looking at her was all he was permitted–if he touched her, even to check her pulse, he would die, and so would she. There was a sword at the back of his neck, the point resting on the skin above his collar and ready to be shoved through flesh and bone if he tried to disobey.

Tori took a breath, and felt a twin heartbeat in his own chest. It was like Jame’s hands were curled around his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his, and her voice whispering in his ear.

“Brother,” she said, not gently. “Get up and walk.”

Then he rose, slowly, smoothly, hands up to show that he meant no harm, to his feet, and turned to the Randir Matriarch.

“So,” he repeated, the world around him retreating slowly to the calm beat of his blood in his veins, and the taste of Jame’s blood in the air. Underfoot, far below, he could feel the Priest’s College, that whirlpool being drawn in, and in, and in.

And all around him, as far as he could feel, was life.

“My lady Rawneth,” Torisen said, as the calm ebbed away and power began to rush into the void. “Do tell me how you hoped that this negotiation would go.”

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Prompt: Jame/Tori, someone in the scene is tied to a chair

send in a character/pairing and a prompt, and I'll write a short fic!

"So," Torisen said quietly, crouched before his sister. Jame was unconscious, blood running down her face and matting the unbound curls of her hair as it dried, making her sharp features and stark pallor ghoulish. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths beneath her shirt, but her jacket had been taken, her belt, every pocket emptied, even her hair taken down and picked through, and her hands and feet were bound to the heavy chair with wire.

Rawneth's people, sent to catch themselves a Nemesis, had done their work well.

Torisen had been sternly informed, in no uncertain terms, that looking at her was all he was permitted--if he touched her, even to check her pulse, he would die, and so would she. There was a sword at the back of his neck, the point resting on the skin above his collar and ready to be shoved through flesh and bone if he tried to disobey.

Tori took a breath, and felt a twin heartbeat in his own chest. It was like Jame's hands were curled around his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his, and her voice whispering in his ear.

"Brother," she said, not gently. "Get up and walk."

Then he rose, slowly, smoothly, hands up to show that he meant no harm, to his feet, and turned to the Randir Matriarch.

"So," he repeated, the world around him retreating slowly to the calm beat of his blood in his veins, and the taste of Jame's blood in the air. Underfoot, far below, he could feel the Priest's College, that whirlpool being drawn in, and in, and in.

And all around him, as far as he could feel, was life.

"My lady Rawneth," Torisen said, as the calm ebbed away and power began to rush into the void. "Do tell me how you hoped that this negotiation would go."

[aethersea]

#this is the most wish-fulfillment thing i have EVER WRITTEN with regard to jame/tori #it is just tori going FULL TYR-RIDAN out of pure protective rage over his sister

#what's going on with jame here? dunno #think rawneth may have locked her into A soul image #whose? unsure at this time! #all that matters is that jame is unconscious and tori is about to teach everyone a valuable fact about the power of unfettered creation

#smash cut to jame waking up and immediately disregarding 'tori killed all these people to save me' as a possibility #and tori having some Complex Feelings Of Self-Loathing About How His Sister Expects Him To Treat Her

(via @words-writ-in-starlight)

Prompt: Jame/Tori, someone in the scene is tied to a chair

send in a character/pairing and a prompt, and I'll write a short fic!

"So," Torisen said quietly, crouched before his sister. Jame was unconscious, blood running down her face and matting the unbound curls of her hair as it dried, making her sharp features and stark pallor ghoulish. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths beneath her shirt, but her jacket had been taken, her belt, every pocket emptied, even her hair taken down and picked through, and her hands and feet were bound to the heavy chair with wire.

Rawneth's people, sent to catch themselves a Nemesis, had done their work well.

Torisen had been sternly informed, in no uncertain terms, that looking at her was all he was permitted--if he touched her, even to check her pulse, he would die, and so would she. There was a sword at the back of his neck, the point resting on the skin above his collar and ready to be shoved through flesh and bone if he tried to disobey.

Tori took a breath, and felt a twin heartbeat in his own chest. It was like Jame's hands were curled around his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his, and her voice whispering in his ear.

"Brother," she said, not gently. "Get up and walk."

Then he rose, slowly, smoothly, hands up to show that he meant no harm, to his feet, and turned to the Randir Matriarch.

"So," he repeated, the world around him retreating slowly to the calm beat of his blood in his veins, and the taste of Jame's blood in the air. Underfoot, far below, he could feel the Priest's College, that whirlpool being drawn in, and in, and in.

And all around him, as far as he could feel, was life.

"My lady Rawneth," Torisen said, as the calm ebbed away and power began to rush into the void. "Do tell me how you hoped that this negotiation would go."