#but Gil is like let me carry that heavy bag of gear for you!

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi!

In your latest thenamesh special force au Gil said he doesn’t trust them to keep her safe.

What if something happens that puts Thena in great danger and Gil rushes to protect and safe her? Bonus if he carries her in his arms!

"Fall back! I repeat, fall back: area is not secure!"

"Move in!" Gil announced before any order was given. Technically he was second in command in Thena's absence, him and Kingo being the most senior Agents present. He didn't need to hear anything else.

Thena was in danger, and he wasn't going to allow it.

The junior agents were scattered around, some having been taken out as soon as they were in the building.

Gil hauled one up by the collar of his shirt, "what the hell happened in here?!"

Kingo put a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing as best he coudl over their thick layers of protective gear. "Take it easy, Gil."

"Th-They were waiting," the young agent squeaked out. "We didn't know until all units were in the building. Something came through the vents, then they jumped us."

Gil dropped the kid to the ground again, stepping around his body and proceeding with caution around every corner. "Eyes up, masks on, people!"

Kingo hand signalled the rest of the unit following behind them. Kingo leaned closer to Gil, "Boss was in the third unit to enter."

Which meant she shouldn't have been too far in the building by the time things went wrong. Gil walked around their comrades as they proceeded. "Tell medical about all these stupid kids."

"Come on, man," Kingo admonished. "You were all buddy-buddy with these 'kids' less than a week ago."

"And if anything happened to Thena, I'm gonna have them all kicked out of the agency or worse."

Kingo gave up on trying to talk him out of it, knowing it was a lost cause. Gil and Thena both weren't the best at being particularly logical when it came to one another. "Focus, Gil."

It only managed to rile him up more, because it wasn't Thena's soft voice telling him that. "Fuck you."

"Okay, good talk," Kingo sighed until they came across the most troublesome area. "Shit."

Clearly they had put up a fight on both sides. Agents were sprawled about, but so were some of the low level participants of the operation they were busting.

"Boss!"

"Thena!"

She was a few feet away from the rest of them, probably having tried to go further in before whatever was in the vents had incapacitated her as well. She had even pulled off her bulletproof vest, probably to check herself for injury after being shot at.

"Thena!" Gil rushed over to her, practically sliding on his knees to reach her. He pulled the inner material of his collar down from his nose and mouth, pulling her up into his arms.

It was in complete disregard for protocol. He didn't check for her injuries first, he didn't wake her and ask her the standard 'can you speak',. 'can you breathe', etc. He pulled her into his arms and all but shook her in his desperation to see her open her eyes again.

"Gil?" she groaned out, pinching her brows together as she came to.

"Thena," Gil gasped out in relief, pulling her closer and cradling her head protectively. "You're okay!"

"What are you doing here?" she frowned, glaring at him out of one eye (with some blood from her forehead having gotten in the other). "You were ordered to wait as backup."

"I know, but the kids blew it and we had to move in," he scoffed, reaching into his standard issue cargo pants and fishing out what was definitely not a standard issue handkerchief. He wiped some blood from her eye before dabbing at her forehead. "Can you stand?"

Thena nodded up at him, "it looks worse than it is. All that really happened was we spooked them out the back of the trap. Tell me we were waiting for them at the rear."

"Yes, we got 'em all," Gil chuckled, letting her grip his sleeve in need and then release it almost immediately. He frowned at her, "I know I asked if you can stand, but are you sure you should be on your feet?"

"It's fine, Gil," Thena attempted to protest, although she didn't actually succeed in attempting to pull herself up out of his arms. "Just...I'm just...jus-"

Gil shook his head. Whether it was blood loss or a concussion or the gas, he wasn't about to let her try walking by herself. Medical would have his head for moving her without their permission, and the higher ups probably wouldn't be happy with him either.

Thena would be livid once she woke up again.

But Gil picked her up in his arms, carrying her like a bride back the way they came, past the rest of the agents also being collected in the aftermath of the disastrous operation. He had no sympathies for the kids being picked up off the ground. Not with Thena lying limp in his arms as she was. He bent his head down close to her, "almost there."

"Gil," she sighed, drifting in and out of it as he carried her. "M'fine."

He smiled down at her. She would absolutely have his badge for thinking she looked kind of cute when she was sleepy, but he could keep that thought to himself. "Yeah, you seem real fine, Boss."

[windup-warrior]

Prompt #1: Submerged

Drown

It comes in waves, I close my eyes Hold my breath and let it bury me I'm not OK and it's not all right Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again --Bring Me The Horizon-Drown

“Stay away from the edge there, girl.” Ezi’ra called to the violet haired child dancing precariously near the frostbitten ledge overlooking a seemingly frozen river. The lean Miqo’te man eyed her for a few moments longer, just enough to confirm that she heard him. The little girl’s red eyes turned his way, wide and doe like as she took three careful steps back, each one leaving a petite boot print in the thick slush that soaked the ground. Deep in the shadow of the Black Iron Bridge, spring struggled to pry free winter’s hold on the land, leaving deep trenches of drifting snow, half melted but unwilling to finish the job fully within the span of a single day. The pale sun would rise each day, casting its pallid light upon the western highlands in a bid to wrest it from the cold and by midday, it almost seemed as if it would succeed. But as the sun tired, sinking beyond the horizon, the chill of night solidified the trickling streams and melting ice, halting any hint of progress by the time the sun made its return come morning’s first light.

It was as the sun was setting on another late spring day that Ezi’ra and his daughter set off from Camp Riversmeet for another day on the hunt for the pristine pelts of the silver wolves that frequented the barren lands. As the days got longer, the easier it became for Ezi’ra to justify stretching their time on the river as long as possible. Before long, they would have to head back to Falcon’s Nest to see just what they could get for their haul. Another day in Falcon’s Nest and the surrounding area should net enough for them to return home with a fat sack of gil to see them through a handful of weeks. It was those numbers that Ezi’ra was tabulating in his head as he stalked low behind a ridge of scattered rocks on the outcropping, bow nocked and drawn for the next shot when he heard the shrill squeak cut through the air amidst the breaking of ice.

“Karma? Karma!” Ezi’ra’s bow clattered to the ground, sinking into the slushy sludge as he stumbled over himself to where his six year old daughter had been standing just a handful of moments prior. Tiny footprints in the snow abruptly cut off amidst a mess of scattered snow and smeared slush, directed downward and over the edge. Before he could reach it, the sharp crack of ice down below confirmed his fear; the little girl had slipped from the side and into the thawing stream below. On a winter’s day, it would have been firm enough for even the heaviest beast to walk upon, but so close to the apex of spring, despite the girl’s featherlight weight, she sank like a stone through the fragile ice and into the arctic waters beneath.

“Papa! Papa, help!” She screamed, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the jagged edges of the broken hole. Ezi’ra leaned over the edge to see just a spot of purple in the black waters before it dipped below the surface. He exhaled a harsh breath and carefully but quickly climbed down from the ledge, taking care to mind his footing upon the bank lest he fall in too. There at the edge, he cast his mismatched blue and gold gaze upon the hole in the ice. The water was in tumult, splashing up over the edge, but no sign of the child could be seen save for the deep divot scratch marks left in the ice around where she had fallen. Weblike fissures had cracked their way through the ice, marking a precarious path from father to daughter should he venture out onto the ice to retrieve her.

He would, wouldn’t he?

“Oi! Did someone fall in?” A voice called from on high. Down the bank and high upon the cliff’s edge, a midnight haired Elezen peered down upon the distraught but hesitating Miqo’te. Ezi’ra pushed his hands back through his hair, tangling them in the cobalt mess atop his head, and merely shrugged helplessly. What kind of father could simply stand there while his child struggled in the water? But to go out could be near certain death for him as well. Thus the war waged upon his conscience as the Elezen’s dark head disappeared from the edge. A moment later, a nimble landing of booted feet beside Ezi’ra found him in the company of the man who had called out to him.

“My daughter…” Ezi’ra murmured, peeling one hand away from his head to gesture vaguely to icy stream. His gaze lifted, tracing over the high cliff walls on either side of the river. The commotion had attracted attention in the form of half a dozen faces watching from where the Elezen had appeared. But despite the dire situation, only he had the courage to venture down to the riverside. No sooner had Ezi’ra answered did the Elezen begin shedding the heavy plate armor that adorned his lithe frame, dropping fur linings and finely worked pieces alike until he wore nothing more than smallclothes. When it seemed Ezi’ra wouldn’t take action, the Elezen hissed out a quiet curse and lurched forward in a burst of agile tiptoed steps over the ice, each placement of his foot lasting but a fraction of a second before he was on to the next. In a flash, he was beside the broken hole in the ice, peering down for any sign of the child that had supposedly fallen in.

“Thal’s balls…” He muttered but didn’t hesitate when it came to taking the plunge, leaping into the hole in the ice. The dark water swallowed him just as it had the girl but he had an advantage she didn’t; he knew this river like the back of his hand. Frozen or not, it wasn’t terribly deeper than the average elf could stand, though he supposed it would be more than enough to overwhelm a tiny miqo child. Pressing beneath the ice, he searched and searched, leaving her father on the edge of the river to worry and wonder if they would ever come up.

A minute became two.

Two became five.

For Ezi’ra it felt like a whole bell had passed when at last he got his answer. Nearly a hundred yalms downstream, the ice broke in a spectacular upward burst. All at once, the dark haired Elezen emerged, his lean arms wrapped around the tiny, waterlogged form of a Miqo’te girl. He sputtered water even as he pushed her up onto the thicker ice at the edge, beckoning over Ezi’ra to grab her so that he too could climb from the water. After a few dumbfounded moments, the Miqo’te stumbled over himself, tripping his way down the river’s bank until he could ease himself out just far enough onto the ice to snag the girl by her armpits, pulling her toward solid ground. Her thick winter gear was sodden with frigid water and her pale cheeks had a ghastly blue tinge to them though not nearly so dark as the purple-blue of her lips. He wrapped her up in his cloak, unsure of just how to tend to her limp form. Meanwhile, the elf shook the excess water from his frame and hurried back to his own gear to redress, donning everything save his coat, which he draped over his arm as he briskly returned to the father and daughter.

“Is she breathing?” He asked, kneeling down beside the pair.

“I… I…don’t know.” Ezi’ra shook his head, leaning down to listen for any signs of life.

“Give her here. There is a healer at the camp that can help.” The Elezen said with a low thrum of annoyance as he spread his coat to wrap the girl up and take her from her father. She was so small, so limp and doll like in his arms. He swaddled her tightly and rose, cradling her in a tender hold as he looked upwards. Their crowd of spectators had grown, but none seemed intent on leaping to help. He shook his head and called out. “Summon the chirurgeon! Have it done before I get up there or you will all regret your gawking.”

The crowd scattered, leaving the trio below to make their way back up to the ledge above, summiting a scant handful of minutes later. Halfway back to the camp, they were met by a contingent consisting of two armored Elezen and a well dressed chirurgeon carrying a heavy bag laden with what one could only assume was instruments of his trade.

“She fell into the river, help her.” The dark haired Elezen prompted, carefully passing the girl over once they made it back to the warmth and safety of the camp. Within the confines of one of the half dozen wood walled huts, the chirurgeon looked her over, taking vitals before administering a potion he was certain would rouse her. True to his word, the girl gasped and sputtered, lurching up against the gentle hold of hands on her shoulders with a flail of arms and legs until she realized she was safe and sound.

Her eyes opened and the collective recoil of those around her couldn’t be restrained. There were whispers, talk of heresy and voidsent things. Was it a trick? A trap to lure the camp into a false sense of complacency under the guise of humanitarian aid needed? The discussion was interrupted as Ezi’ra peeked his head in.

“How is she? This is costing me a lot of hunting time and daylight… I… I really need to get moving before nightfall…” He said, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. The dark haired Elezen, a lesser noble called Mereaux by the others, turned slowly toward the father.

“Surely your daughter’s life is worth the cost, no?” He said, a measure of calculated calm limning each of his words. Like before, Ezi’ra hesitated. It was all the answer that Mereaux needed. He stormed the distance between him and Ezi’ra, reaching deep into a pocket with such a fury that Ezi’ra couldn’t help but flinch. No violence came from the motion, no matter how hot Mereaux may have been due to the man’s lacking paternal instinct, rather he withdrew a satchel that jingled with the weight of more than few gil. He thrust it at Ezi’ra hard enough that the Miqo’te had to take a step back as he caught it so that it didn’t upset his balance. Mereaux leaned toward him and snarled, “She is your daughter. She is worth more than any measly hunt may bring. A child is a gift, treat her as such. Now take her and be on your way before I change my mind.”

Money talks, Ezi’ra didn’t have to be told twice. As soon as she was garbed in dry clothing and could walk once more, the man and his strange, fire eyed daughter took their leave. As he had all her life, he ignored the whispers as they departed, tugging her along by the hand even as she tried her best to look over her shoulder. At six, she didn’t understand much of what they said, but she knew the weight of Mereaux’s scowl as it chased them away, the anger and even the disgust that followed her father. Too late, Mereaux caught her looking, his expression softening for the handful of moments it took to lift his hand in solemn farewell. She too lifted her hand, waving back to him just before Ezi’ra rounded a curve and the camp disappeared. 

[windup-warrior]

Prompt 4: Saving Time

Corners Cut

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”

― Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

If a penny saved is a penny earned, what can we say about the temporal equivalent? Is a moment saved, a moment earned or is it not such a one to one translation? Admittedly I am both a lazy hedonist and also a moment hoarder, so this is a subject that simultaneously perplexes and amuses me. I was once told that I am only so lazy as I am for the sake of investing my time and energy into only the most worthwhile endeavors. Or I am just a lazy ass. It could honestly go either way.

“Get up, lazy bones. It’s nearly midday.” The crowing call came with a looming shadow over my resting form. With the sun overhead, it wouldn’t be long before its progressive descent to the horizon in the distance would soon cast its harsh light over my cozy sleeping spot tucked beneath the overhang of the old woman’s home.

“I’m up.” I groaned, draping an arm over my eyes to shield them against the light. Little by little I dragged it away while cracking my eyelids bit by bit, little by little until I could peer up at the shaded form standing over top of me. A stout thing, the Midlander was a wrinkled old thing late in her sixth epoch. Her wrinkled hands sat upon the breadth of her hips, one pinching at a piece of parchment marked with black ink and bearing what looked like a triple cream coffee stain in the corner nearest my reach. “What have you got for me today, Garwynn?”

“A few things from the merchants in town and something to take to the mender. If it’s not too trouble.” She thrust the parchment my way and with a yawn, I took it off her hands to look it over. A few dry goods, fresh meat, a handful of crafting materials. It would be easy enough to knock out and get back to being lazy for the rest of the day. Pushing myself upright, I picked a piece of hay from my hair and brushed my side off while yawning.

“Easy peasy.” At sixteen, it was essentially my goal in life to get by doing the absolute bare minimum. In a post Calamity world, I had no family, no school, no direction or purpose in life save for survival. Garwynn Armstrong was the only one keeping me honest at that point. She gave me a place to stay, menial jobs through which I could make a little pocket gil, and kept me on the straight and narrow. She had lost her husband and only child in the Calamity, leaving her just as alone as I was. We were kindred souls of a sort, I guess. After her passing when I was eighteen, I took her surname as my own, abandoning my father’s name in favor of the only person I have ever truly considered to be “family”.

“Don’t dilly dally either, child. The birds need their greens before supper.” Garwynn leaned down to pinch at my cheek, prompting a scrunch of my nose and a little grumble as I got to my feet. She smiled and retreated into the modest one room cottage set on the fringes of the Chocobo Forest not terribly far from Tailfeather in the Dravanian Forelands.

“Dilly dally shilly shally.” Singsong tones and a dragging lack of pep to my step made for an odd combination but wasn’t that me in a nutshell? Garwynn knew how it would go. It was why she let me sleep as late as she had but still roused me to get something done before the day was through. It was a nice balance that she struck for us both, a beneficial partnership through which she gained a part time companion and someone to tend to the chores and errands that she was getting too tired to do in her advanced age. In turn, well, I had a home. Kinda. She didn’t exactly have the space for me inside, not unless we were sitting or dining together. But there was a generous stable with unused space for me to lay my head and stash a handful of my possessions. When the weather was particularly bad, she would coax me inside and let me curl up in front of the wood fire stove in the corner of her cottage where I would warm my bones while listening to the rumble of the Midlander’s snoring as she slumbered across the room. Usually before morning, I would sneak back out to the stable and bury myself beneath a few layers of gear and a pelt or two until the weather broke. Old habits, they die hard.

The path from Garwynn’s to Tailfeather wasn’t overtly treacherous, frequented by traders and pilgrims alike as they passed through to more promising prospects further on down the line. With a rucksack on each shoulder, one full and one empty, I tromped through the woods en route to my final destination. There I handed off one bag to the mender with the promise to pick it up in a short while. From the mender, I made my way to the collective of traveling merchants that had a habit of lingering near the middle of the small hamlet. On slow days there would be just one but if you were lucky, and I usually was, there were a handful to pick from.

Today was a slow day.

“Shite.” I muttered under my breath when I saw the line congregating near the sole trader. He looked flustered but pleased as punch about the business he was dragging in. I suppose that is inevitable when you’re the only one from which people can buy their needed items. The Dravanian Forelands was by no means a kind or forgiving landscape. Sure, if you tried really, really hard, you could provide for yourself while working the land and hunting and gathering. At least until winter came and blanketed the landscape with feet of heavy snow. Only the most hearty and hale of animals remained and they were usually some of the more vicious species that populated the forest around the town. If any of your preparations faltered during the summer and fall, it would make for an immensely long winter until you could finally get what you needed. As such, many capitalized on the traveling merchants who passed through to get their various sundries to bulk up stockpiles for every season. Dravanians were nothing if not resourceful and well prepared usually.

“Excuse me… I just need a few things…” I piped up, raising a hand to try and get the sole merchant’s attention. At an angle, he heard my call but didn’t see where I was, leaving him to search the crowd around him.

“What do ya need la-- oh.” He stumbled when he saw me, locking gazes and quickly looking away to retreat to the nearest patron perusing his wares. “You’ll have to wait like the rest of these good folk. If there’s anything left for you when they are done, you’re, ah… you’re welcome to it for a premium.”

“A premium? You’re pulling my tail, right?” Typical. So very typical. Not even here could I escape the persistent prejudice that seemed to permeate through every tier of society. Jerks. Whatever. I scanned the list in my hand and turned away from the man. It would likely be at least an hour before I got my turn. There was no way I was going to sit and wait for him forever just to pay more than anyone else for whatever he may have had left.

“Keimfyr!” Five minutes later, I was rounding one of the peripheral buildings on the edge of Tailfeather in search of a particularly reliable Roegadyn who frequented these parts. Like Garwynn, he lived on the outskirts of the forest but ventured in often to peddle his own wares. I found who I was looking for, thankfully, and lit up with a bright smile for the man as he looked my way.

“Little kit, how’s Garwynn?” He called with a jovial smile in return. His nickname made me crinkle my nose but he could only laugh at that too. With the way he towered over everything and everyone, I was sure that he called everyone little. It wasn’t personal, right?

“Doing well enough. Sent me out for a few things she needed… but the only guy in town is, uh… a bit of a jerk. So I was wondering if you might be able to help me out…” I asked hopefully, lifting up onto my toes with a little bounce.

“Well… maybe. What have you got?” He asked, gesturing for me to hand over my list. I passed it over without argument and rocked back on my heels while he scanned it. The low thrum of a contemplative note in his throat had me holding my breath. After a moment or six, he finally nodded and turned away to his chocobo, rounding the side to flip the flap on his saddlebag. “I might have some of this. If you aren’t keen on waiting for the arse over there, you could always hunt some of it down yourself. About… five hundred yalms north, north-east of here, you could be able to track it down if you are careful.”

“I’m always careful!” I protested, puffing myself up as if it would make me bigger than I was. I wasn’t quite full grown yet so that probably put me at four and a half fulms high even if I stood on my tip-toes. He chuckled and reached over his chocobo to ruffle my hair. As if it wasn’t already a totally hot mess. Thanks Keimfyr. Sinking back, I scowled at him and waited for him to get the rest of my requested items, which I ultimately traded for a modest amount of gil. With a stuffed ruck, I thanked him and promised I would give Garwynn his best for him, before taking my leave, setting off north out of Tailfeather along the Whilom River’s babbling path.

“Should shave an hour off of today…” Talking to myself was fairly normal. Sometimes the voices answered back but for the most part, it was an echo chamber into which I called but never received anything in return. Maybe I should have spent less time talking and more time listening because by the time I shut up, it was too late. The crunch of underbrush met my ears only a moment before the heavy weight of something yellow, red, and musclebound bowled into me from the side. Frumious bandersnatches, curse them all.

I rolled before sharp teeth could embed themselves in my throat, half of my bag’s contents scattering across the ground. Swearing, I ripped free one of the two blades I carried on the regular, a smaller dagger I kept sheathed on my hip. Backhanding my grip, I slashed out to try and gain myself a little space. The tip of the blade only narrowly grazed the bandersnatch’s shoulder and served only to piss it off more than it already was. It dove forward, the pointed edge of a wicked tusk caught me in the leg as I tried to spin away, sending me crashing to the ground with a sharp cry. It gave me enough time to pull the hatchet from my back, whirling it in my grasp so I could lash a heavy handed blow into the its chest as it pounced. The bandersnatch let out a wailing snarl and bucked its way off of me, rolling over then recovering enough to leap at me again. I hacked and slashed over and over, cleaving flesh and fur alike until it stopped moving. It collapsed over my lower body, leaving me panting and pinned down. Not that I could stay like that for long though, the commotion would assuredly draw more predators if I didn’t take my leave as soon as possible.

Ultimately I made it back to Garwynn’s an hour later than I originally expected, bearing just a fraction of what she asked. To boot, I forgot to grab her garb from the mender before I returned. As I limped up to the front door, a fluttering of the nearest window’s curtain drew my attention before the door opened.

“What happened to you?” Garwynn asked, padding out onto the front step on bare feet. I sighed and shook my head.

“Long story. I took a shortcut.” I said with a wince as Garwynn leaned down to poke at the puncture wound in my thigh.

“What have I told you about cutting corners, little one? Come inside, we’ll get you cleaned up.” She put a hand to either of my shoulders and steered me over the threshold and into the crisp warmth of the cottage within.

“What about the stuff? I lost half of it…” Admitting that wasn’t easy, pinking my cheeks with embarrassment. Garwynn passed her hand over my hair and gifted me a soft smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

“Never fear, dove. We can get it tomorrow, don’t you worry.”