#but I could throw an alchemist's fire at it and that would work fine?????

[maistarberries]

Golem antimagic in PF2e (and probably other systems but I didn't interact with golems much in other games) is the TTRPG rules equivalent of word salad I swear to god

[cozyfoxy]

Mystical Paths

Summary: The Howells have been the proud owners of a small but famous bookstore since the 1800s. They are known for being the only shop that collects original copies of magic writings. Dan works as the bookkeeper of the shop. As the busiest season approaches, one of the most renowned magic families reaches out to the shop and offers to gift them an original Spellbook of sorts. Little did Dan know that these offers would change his life forever.

First Chapter

Read on AO3

Genre: AU

NO WARNINGS

In just one week, Howell’s Mystical Enchantments had earned more money than they typically would in a month. Having Philip Lester’s book in their possession had proven to be a true blessing for the family. Dan was incredibly grateful for the gift, but even more so for the protection that Philip had given him. He truly had needed it.

Overall, the book had been very popular and had gone off without a hitch, however, no one had been able to read it yet. Most customers would swear under their breath and storm off when they saw blank pages, others would groan, but thank Dan for his time, sometimes giving him a tip. Some customers though, would get angry, even violent towards the brunette.

The first time it happened wasn’t too bad. The woman whom Dan knew to be a quite powerful alchemist from Ireland had attempted to throw the book to the floor when she was unable to read the pages. The attempt was of course a failure, as the book had stopped just above the floor and leaped into Dan’s hands, perhaps for protection. Dan really had no idea, but it had brought unwanted attention to him from the crowd.

“Well, well, well. I’ve always been told that Howells don’t have magic, eh? I think this youngin just proved they was lying.” An older woman called out from the hood of her cloak.

Dan had stuttered nervously, trying to find a way to explain the truth when a voice that made the brunette think of honeysuckles on a warm Spring morning sounded from the book. “Idiots. The book is charmed! Daniel here is the keeper, the protector. No, he wields no magic himself, that’s our job. Now, I suggest we all calm down before my creator is summoned. He won’t be as gentle as I am.”

Despite his nerves, Dan felt himself smile when the book moved itself back to the pedestal that it had been displayed on. He walked over to the next person in line to take their payment and continued with his day as normal. Well, as normal as he could with such a powerful book in his possession.

The next time a customer had gotten angry, it had been aimed directly at Dan. A taller man, not much older than Dan had tried to read the book and failed. The man had groaned like so many others before him and set the book down, before glaring at the books keeper.

“Your family is filled with lying cunts. No way this book is from the Lester’s. You all are just trying to make a quick buck! Fuck you all, I want my money back!” the man yelled, moving closer to Dan.

Dan swallowed thickly, shaking his head, “I apologize sir but we do not offer refunds here.”

The man laughed, a shrill, nails on chalkboard kind of sound, “Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Then I’ll just have to take it back myself, or get something just as worthy.”

“Okay Leon, let's leave the boy alone yeah? He ain't done nothing wrong, he’s just doing his job. Back off.” another man had called out, grabbing his friend by the shoulder.

Dan watched nervously as ‘Leon’ shook the hand off of his shoulder and began whispering a strange sentence under his breath, something that Dan couldn’t understand. Magic. Dan gasped and jumped behind a book display, screaming when books in front of him suddenly caught fire. The smell made his stomach wretch and chaos erupted around him.

“Leon what the fuck is wrong with you?!” the man’s friend yelled, using his magic to diminish the flames.

“Just getting my revenge.” Leon snarled, walking closer to Dan.

Before Dan even had time to blink, the room filled with a cold fog, and loud shrieks pierced the room. The room was otherwise silent, everyone had paused to get a good look at what was happening once the fog cleared. Some of the customers had pulled out their phones and they were recording what was happening.

Once Dan could get a good look, a gasp passed his lips. The same fox that had originally delivered the book tackled Leon to the ground and stood hard against the man’s chest. Leon looked absolutely terrified of the fox, he was shaking beneath the animal. Everyone around watched in shock when the fox seemed to huff into the man’s ear, and Leon began to glow a sickly green color.

“What? What are you doing?” Dan asked, walking closer to the crowd.

The fox only paused for a moment before pressing both front paws against Leon’s throat, making him yell in pain. With the yell, came a mist from his throat, the glowing green color leaving his body and forming a ball in the air. Dan stared at the ball with the rest of the crowd, covering his ears when the fox suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream; the ball moving towards him. The fox quickly swallowed the ball, seeming to shake its head in disgust before turning to the crowd.

“Let this be a lesson to you all, and anyone who dares to mess with the Howells in any way. I will not hesitate in any circumstance to step in and take control of the situation. You don’t want that, none of you do. And now, poor little Leon Whitlock has no magic, he will be an embarrassment to his family. Well, more than he already was.” the fox spoke in a very familiar voice, without moving its mouth.

Leon’s friend stepped forward, breathing unevenly, “You… you took his magic? That’s not even possible… no one can take magic from other people. Who the hell do you think you are?”

A charming, soft laugh graced the room, the fox moving closer to Dan, “Yes, I took his magic. It is very possible, but only for me, I suppose. And to answer your question, I am Phil Lester.” the fox explained before looking at Dan.

“Are you okay little dove? He didn’t hurt you, right? Just scared you?” Phil’s voice echoed in Dan’s head, making him smile.

“I’m okay, I promise. Just shaken up. Thank you for saving me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Dan thought back, watching as Phil nuzzled his palm, huffing and nodding before disappearing into thin air. The crowd watched in complete awe, most typing furiously on their phones. Dan was too bewildered to worry himself with what the crowd had just seen, he was too focused on the fact that he had just seen someone have their magic taken.

After the hectic week that Dan had gone through, he couldn’t be more thankful for the weekend. His parents had decided to make it a long weekend, saying that Dan needed a break from working so hard. Normally, Dan would argue with them, lie, and say that he wasn’t overwhelmed; but this time, he agreed. He desperately needed time to be with himself, to worry about himself instead of the magical world that he was thrust into.

He had always been around magic, but not so intimately. He had always watched from afar, getting only as close as needed for his job, but now, Dan felt like a magnet for magical energies. It was as if he could feel the warm buzzing of magic in his lips, in his hands, and his mind. Maybe it was because Phil was able to speak to him through his mind, he must be feeling Phil’s presence.

“You called?” Phil’s voice echoed in Dan’s head suddenly, making him jump.

Dan stuttered anxiously, trying to decide what to say, “Well, yeah I think? I didn’t really mean to subconsciously. Sorry I’ve just had a hell of a week, I’m all over the place. I mean, I’ve been around more magic in the past week than I have in my entire life. It’s a lot to take in.”

Phil chuckled softly, a gentle, warm sound, “I could tell it’s overwhelming for you. I can’t say that I understand, but I do want you to feel more comfortable. It will take time, but you will adjust, magic will just become a normal occurrence in your life. I can’t make the stress go away completely or anything; that’s more of my mum’s specialty. But I can help you calm down and relax if you’d like.”

“How could you do that?” Dan asked out loud, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Maybe he was going insane, talking to a voice that wasn’t there. Sure, magic was real, but could this really be happening?

“I need you to trust me, Dan. I know that’s hard but just try. I need you to close your eyes until I say to open them.” Phil explained softly, a smile clear in his voice.

Dan debated with himself silently. Phil was telling him to close his eyes, but why? Could he trust someone that he didn’t even know? Could Dan really find it in himself to listen to what the strange voice told him? A sigh passed his lips before he allowed his eyes to flutter shut, still facing the ceiling. Phil had proven that he was going to protect Dan, so he wouldn’t do anything to harm him, right?

“Okay little dove, open your eyes slowly.” Phil hummed, pride evident in his tone.

The brunette opened his eyes slowly, gasping loudly when his eyes were met with a midnight blue sky, that enveloped him in what felt like a warm blanket. He could see the twinkling specks of light clearer than ever before. They seemed more like fireflies than stars, close enough to touch. The only sounds that touched Dan’s ear were that of a gentle wind and something that sounded like ocean waves. He could even smell the sea.

Despite his attempt to force his emotions down, tears burned the rims of his eyes as he searched for his favorite constellations. “How?” Dan whimpered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He didn’t even know what he was asking really, he was in complete awe.

Phil chuckled, “Magic Daniel. I am capable of things that most people can’t even imagine.”

Dan shook his head quickly, “no, I mean how did you know this would help me relax?” he whispered, moving into a sitting position.

“Oh, that. Well, it's something that I always do for myself when life gets overwhelming. I kinda went on a limb, but I’m glad you like it.” Phil whispered, sounding unsure for the first time since the men had begun to talk. “Also, I’m… I’m well, here. With you. I know you can’t see me right now, I’m camouflaged, but I’m here. That’s why you’re not hearing me in your head anymore.”

Dan’s eyes widened and he looked around himself anxiously, attempting to find any proof of Phil’s words, “I didn’t even notice I could properly hear you… why are you hiding though?”

Phil placed his hand gently over Dan’s, smiling when a rose pink danced across the other man’s cheeks, “simply because it is not our time to meet entirely. It will happen dove, I promise. But for now, please try to rest. I know you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah… okay, I’ll try to rest. But can you maybe stay until I fall asleep? I feel safer with you here.” Dan whispered, slowly lowering himself back down onto his bed while the night sky continued to move around him.

“Of course, I would never leave you unless you wanted me to. Goodnight my little dove, sleep well.” Phil whispered, shuddering slightly before allowing his camouflage to fall and sitting at Dan’s feet.

Soft snores filled the room before Phil could even register that the man next to him had dozed off. He watched Dan’s gentle, calm breathing in complete awe. How could one person be so incredibly beautiful? Beautiful without even trying to be? Dan was truly a light, brighter than any star that even Phil could create. Despite the rules that Phil had set for himself, rules about waiting for the right moment for everything; he placed a tender kiss on Dan’s hairline.

“Soon, my little dove, you will fly with me again,” Phil whispered, allowing his human form to fade, falling onto four paws comfortably, before running out of the house.

[dapandapod]

Hug 16, cheek to cheek. But I’m asking, specifically, for hurt/comfort with Geraskier. :crypuddle:

16. Cheek to cheek

Yes, Kuri my beloved, of course you can! I swear the hug is in there somewhere, promise, I just hid it well... PLease enjoy this slightly angsty hurt/comfort hug! <3

Oh and thank you @comfyswitcherblanketfort for beta reading <3<3<3 I love you

Warnings: Jaskier gets hurt, alchemist has a bad, bad day, temporary-ish loss of hearing, hurt/comfort, light angst I guess?

On Ao3 Hug prompt collection

“JASKIER NO!!”

The sound of the explosion makes Geralt’s ears ring, his world bright white. Wind is pulling at his hair, and he has to shield his eyes against the dust and small stones caught in the blast of the explosion.

As soon as it settles, as soon as he can open his eyes again, he looks frantically for the form of the bard. Fuck, he had thought it would be fine. That it would be a simple meet and greet, that the alchemist would just… try to swindle them as per usual.

He blinks against the white dots dancing in his vision, his sight clearing up. His ears are still ringing slightly, but he can hear his own heart hammer, his blood whooshing.

The alchemist had grabbed Jaskier, had put a knife to his throat and held up a small glass bottle. ‘For my brother!’ he had yelled, yelling out details Geralt knew nothing about. Probably another witcher, probably someone else, but for some, it didn’t matter.

He had instructed Geralt to take the bottle, and to throw it at his own feet, or the bard would die.

Geralt saw the look in Jaskier’s eyes. Could do nothing when he saw his sad smile and his determination. How he bit the hand that held him, and how the bottle fell and how Jaskier stomped on it.

Two bodies lay sprawled on the ground, and Geralt ran towards them, his balance working against him. The last few steps he stumbles, his knees hitting the gravel and glass hard, but he doesn’t care. Geralt ignores the alchemist completely, focusing on Jaskier, pale and unmoving.

He has no idea what the explosion was supposed to do, but he suspects something didn’t go as it was supposed to. Jaskier’s clothes are torn, some of the glass sticking out of the sole of his boot, mixed with blood. A faint glittering powder still hangs in the air, and they can’t stay.

After a quick examination, Geralt dares pick Jaskier up, his head hanging limply against Geralt’s shoulder. Terror, heavy and sickening, churns in his gut. His ears are ringing too much for him to pick up a breath, a heartbeat, but he refuses to believe anything but Jaskier being alive. On his chest, his medallion hums and then starts to vibrate furiously.

Geralt changes his grip and cradles Jaskier’s head towards himself, and starts to run.

A second explosion sets off, somehow louder despite the distance he managed to put between them. He is thrown forward, catching himself on his already bruised and bleeding knee, refusing to let go of Jaskier. This time, he can smell the fire, the ozone, the chaos let loose.

Thank fuck he got Jaskier out of there.

As soon as the medallion calms down, Geralt moves again. His knees hurt and his back feels slightly too hot, but he needs to get away from here.There is no telling if there is going to be a third explosion, and he will not be around to find out.

When he deems them far away enough, Geralt carefully puts Jaskier down. The terror is still laying heavily in his gut, making his fingers feel stiff and his throat constrict with worry. Jaskier hasn't moved yet, not even a twitch of his eyes.

Geralt leans in close, pressing his ear to the torn clothing of Jaskier’s chest. Despite the now soft ringing in his ears, he picks up a faint heartbeat. When he leans up to Jaskier’s face, he can feel his breath against his cheek.

Jaskier lives.

Something unclenches in his stomach, making it easier to breathe. Now he only needs to wake up…

But he tight coil of anxiety in his stomach doesn’t ease up, so Geralt busies himself. The fine clothes are more or less ruined anyway, so he cuts them off where he needs to. The pieces of fabric that are

salvageable he puts to the side for safe keeping. No need to throw it all away.

The boots are a bit trickier, with the glass sticking out of it, but Geralt is used to this. Jaskier stirs for the first time as he removes them and cleans the wounds out. His nose scrunches up and he makes a grunting sound. It shouldn’t give him such relief, to see Jaskier in pain, but it lets him believe that things should be alright...

When Jaskier is all bandaged up and put in one of Geralt’s bigger tunics, Geralt finally lets himself care for himself.

His right knee also has glass splinters, his trousers slightly torn where it scraped over the ground. It will have to be mended, but otherwise he is unfairly alright. Except for the ringing in his ears.

It takes another two hours for Jaskier to wake up. Darkness has crept up on them, and Geralt made a small campfire to keep the bard warm. He is not sure where Roach went with their camping gear, but she will be back eventually. She always is.

Jaskier pulls in a deep breath, his heartbeat picking up, and then he groans softly. Instantly Geralt is at his side, taking his hand in his.

“Jaskier?” He mumbles, letting his other hand cup Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier startles when he touches him, he tries to sit up, almost headbutting Geralt in the process.

“It’s fine! It’s just me, it’s alright.” Geralt tries to push Jaskier back down again, but the bard looks around terrified.

“Geralt?” He asks, a little too loud.

“I’m here.”

Their eyes meet, and Jaskier’s eyes get even wider.

“Geralt?”

“I’m here. You are safe.”

It doesn’t help.

Jaskier looks terrified, shoving Geralt’s hands away and touching his ears.

Oh.

Oh no.

Of course, Jaskier was much closer to the explosion than Geralt was. Of course his ears and his more humanlike healing would not be better yet.

“I can’t hear you.” Jaskier says, again too loud, on the verge of tears. “I can’t hear anything.”

Geralt can only watch when Jaskier curls in on himself, fingers to his ears, looking terrified.

“The alchemist…” Jaskier whispers, eyes returning to Geralt. “I don’t…”

Geralt opens his arms in invitation and Jaskier crawls desperately into his embrace. Cheek to cheek, they sit pressed together, Jaskier’s fingers shaking where it grips at Geralt a little too tightly.

“You will heal.” Geralt says. “I will keep you safe.”

When Geralt talks, Jaskier seems to relax just a little. Maybe he can’t hear the words, maybe not even his voice, but he should be able to feel the vibration of Geralt’s throat. They adjust, Jaskier pressing his forehead to the side of Geralt’s neck, his nose cold and breath hot.

Geralt keeps talking, and slowly Jaskier keeps relaxing.

Eventually they resort to Jaskier’s notebook. Jaskier flips several pages quickly, hiding its secrets from Geralt, until he finds a blank page.

And from the light of the fire, Geralt scribbles it again. It is a bit hard, with Jaskier between his arms, but none of them wants to let go now.

“You will heal. I will keep you safe.”

And when morning comes, Jaskier seems to believe him. His hearing returns slowly, so slowly. No songs are being sung, no notes played, for a long time.

Some nights are worse than others, the ringing in Jaskier’s ears so loud he can’t sleep.

Geralt finds himself talking more, because it makes Jaskier smile and reach for his hand, even on days when Jaskier can’t make out what he is saying. They have found other ways to communicate.

They will heal together. Keep each other safe.

[the-baschet]

#18 - Bonus Day! (Heart)

Continued from #11 – Bonus Day! (Hobby)

Back from another nightly escapade in Ishgard, the topic at hand for his next entry was obvious for him. Once he settled in, bags thrown in their corners and armor off and out of sight, he took a seat and began to work.

“My mother. A frail creature ready to break at the slightest wind.”

A pitiful sigh slipped past his lips, and he only just began.

“I wish for nothing but her absolute, sheer happiness; I would easily fling myself over Halone’s spear if that would be enough to ensure her happiness and health, and yet I know that would only drive her into further despair. Each visit, she greets me with the brightest smile, one that could light a man on fire. It almost convinces me that she might be fine on her own without me, though we all know that is far from the truth. The day I am finally brutally murdered, I only hope she is either strong enough to handle the news or no one tells her at all. The only reason she is the way she is now is due to my father dying like some needed hero and left her to wallow in his absence.

I suppose I could stay alive for a while longer, if only for her sake. I need only not lose my mind and throw my life away... Gods, being held by a thread for her sake. I remember having no qualms with being eaten alive or otherwise mauled some moons ago. What happened to me?

That aside, I really ought to confer with the alchemists in Ul’dah about her, to make a house visit of sorts. As loathe I am to admit it, Ul’dah has a collection of strange yet brilliant minds when it comes to medicine. There is also no harm in turning to them since those in Ishgard have yet to alleviate her weakness. Their useless prayer and incessant belittling are enough to make me run my sword through the lot of them. How satisfying that would be if I could get away with it without causing her trouble.

Speaking of, she gifted me a book. That she would fuss over something so insignificant, though I appreciate the gesture all the same. She told me that she thought I might like something to read and that a romance novel, of all books in that hobbled shop, seemed best suited for me. Why?”

He shook his head with a roll of his eyes, landing them on the selfsame book at the corner of his desk.

“Mayhap I will write a verse or two of some poetry for her as a reminder of what exactly it is I like so she can save her gil. I will read her thoughtful present, nevertheless. She did choose it expressly for myself, I may as well give it a chance. A miracle might happen where I enjoy it.

And with that, I conclude this letter. I am finding that I do quite enjoy putting my thoughts into words, even if I am the only reader for them. It being so personal and condemning deters me from sharing this anyroad so it works out in my favor.”

Closing his eyes, Mattisaux lowers his shoulders in a long-drawn breath. Unease still nestled between his brow and plagued his chest, but his thoughts arranged a bit more pleasantly than it did moments ago. For now, he had places to go and beasts to slay.

[crewofthegoldrush]

about a year ago i drew a concept for what if the pc x npc pairs swapped classes, which quickly formed an AU that I have not stopped thinking about, where the roles are swapped - with the NPCs now as the heroes and the PCS are now NPCs. so let’s break that down under the cut! 

Demetrius d’Lyrandar - Wild Magic Sorcerer, ship wayfinder. 

As a member of House Lyrandar, he has the ability to pilot the airship with no issue, but refuses. The current pilot is doing a fine job without him, seemingly on her own pure charisma, although he will step in in an emergency - like that time a hole was blown into the ship...

His Wild Magic doesn’t necessarily come from chaos, instead from trauma that has caused a disconnection between himself and his magic. He refuses to discuss this, even with those who know of his past, and would rather drink instead. Ironically, his magic works fine when he’s less than sober

Has a preference for weather spells, such as Lightning Lure, Gust [from his Dragonmark], Ray of Frost, and Fog Cloud. His metamagic is Careful and Subtle

Aubrey Galatea - Alchemist Artificer, crew / mercenary

Still a spy from another continent but genuinely believes she is working for/towards the greater good when she is sent on this mission; here her aloofness comes less from being apathetic and cruel, and more because she is so sworn to secrecy she just chooses to keep people at arm’s length, making her quite a wet blanket

If asked how she feels about that moody dragon flirting with her, she claims she’s “putting up with it” but there could be more to it than that

As an alchemist, she specializes in poisons and infusing/enhancing weaponry; some of her go to spells include Mage Hand, Poison Spray, and Caustic Brew. Her chosen infusions are her Homunculus Servant (Incognito), a replicated Alchemy Jug, and Returning Weapon. She almost never uses her Aberrant mark unless she feels she can get away with it.

[I was going to add a bonus Harper but bro i tired]

Brunhilde Kheldeburn - Artillerist Artificer, ship gunner / security

You know those players who feel like fire is the answer to most things? That’s this gal. Buff and can throw a cannon (and occasional flame thrower) over her shoulder like it’s nothing, she’s a force to deal with in a fight. One might be surprised to learn someone so kind and cheerful could be so bombastic and chaotic!

Doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit and is usually the first to pull the previously mentioned wet blankets along with her, not to mention that tough little kobold.

Actually doesn’t find herself using too much magic, preferring to get to it and use her axe or cannon instead, however her favorite spells are Firebolt, Light, and Catapult

Angelica d’Sivis - Beast Master Ranger, crew / archivist

Similar to her canon self, Angelica is driven by a want for fame, which lead her to apply for this 50 day voyage. However, as a hero here she is much more genuine and earnest in this pursuit as I imagine here she came from more humble beginnings. She is still Aberrant, which she uses to hide the fact that she is not a real member of House Sivis; the stigma against Aberrants is part of her motivation to make a real name for herself.

To be honest, I’m not sure the history between herself and her owl, Schuyler, other than just a reference to her canon wizard self, although the owl seems to have a bit of a rivalry with the captains familiar. idk they can’t all be well thought out these aren’t my characters bro

Besides her mark granting her Illusion magic, her ranger spells are typically Hunter’s Mark, Detect Magic, and Fog Cloud

Benjamin Octavious - Valor Bard / [Celestial Warlock], second ship doctor

Largely unchanged from his canon self; he is an employee for House Jorasco and is a lovely man working his way through college. His valor bard self has an even more enthusiastic belief that the best way to help is to get out there, which is partly what lead him to this voyage.

Keeps his role actually the same as well, because the fact that that little kenku is still his boss even in an AU is too hilarious to pass up. 

Before leaving Sharn, he bought what he was told was a lucky charm - a strange, bone carving called the Panther Claw.

Natsuko Hayashi - Scout Rogue, cartographer 

Similar canon history, where she fled her previous life of luxury after receiving a number of threatening letters, only to end up in a lighting rail accident. She survives thanks to the druid tribes in the area, but instead of training to be a druid, she decides to be someone who can fight back after realizing she was only in that crash because she was running away. I think her personality would be the most changed, with her more level-headed, rational mind replaced with someone who is a bit more brash and bold with a habit of accidentally getting herself into trouble, which is probably what happens when you insist on being the one to scout ahead

She furthers her family’s work in cartography, using her skills in leading expeditions to advance their work, earning her a good enough name to join this voyage. 

Is way too proud to admit that the ship’s librarian with the peacock necklace is cute.

Delphinium ir’Celosia “Num” - Eldritch Knight Fighter, crew / ship security

Much of Del Num’s canon backstory isn’t fully known to me, but here I’ve imagined she leans more into her tetra warrior training and works on becoming a better fighter. She abandons her role as a noble, and largely keeps her name...not a secret, but certainly unsaid

Num uses the voyage purely as a way to further her main goal - to learn more about what happened to Cyre, and what better way than to travel all over the country on a ship that was heading towards the Mournlands?

It’d be a lot easier to keep her name hidden if her ex wasn’t also on board….

caNT wait to do the PCs next i put Monty THROUGH IT

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

Tell me about three of your favorite OCs you’ve worked on!

Thank you for the ask! Sorry for the wait, I've been working on this whenever I got the spoons which have been in short supply.

Three of my favorite OC's: Well one is very much Elena. From her starting point as an atla oc to role-play as, to her own fanfiction, then to multiple short/uncompleted stories, and finally being one of the main charecters for the series i hope to write (Learn To Be) shes been on a long journey with me and has consistently been an oc i fall back to in both writing and drawing. She's overpowered and badass, could kill a man twice her size with her bare hands without breaking a sweat, but doesn't have the average socialization the rest of the world does, and she doesn't like hurting people. She can keep her face completely blank but can't interpret what she feels correctly. She's repressed as fuck and the only way she knows how to let loose is in bursts of violent rage. She loves animals but has no idea how to properly handle any of them (in a friendly way, she can handle them in a her next meal way just fine). She attaches to people very fast. Oh year she also summons and controls fire and her skin can radiate heat at times, but she isn't resistant to burns. She loves her parents but everyone else who knows about them know that they deserve to be burning in hell <3

2. Would probably be Morgan Weasley even though she maybe is only a year or so old. With a lot of OC's i make i focus on one story to write and quickly end up moving on to new ones. But Morgan is one of the few that have stuck. I wrote a lot of her main story in a large span of inspiration, and when that ran out it was from an overwhelming amount of ideas to tweak the story in different ways. I've got a doc dedicated to different random snippets to full blown au's, some with multiple chapters planned. If I hadn't had an au idea for Morgan's story while I was inpatient id have been forced to stay longer because I was bored out of my mind and getting more agitated with nothing to do. Even though I havent written her (or much of anything really) recently I still find great pleasure in playing around with her universe in my head.

3. This is hard to choose because part of me just wants to put the rest of the main Learn to Be cast, part of me wants to say Greenland, and the rest of myself needs to keep reminding certain charecters aren't my oc's no matter how many parts of canon I throw out the window. I guess I'll just settle for malcolm and Jesse, who were created years apart, but have only really started to get developed because of their relationship. Malcolm was a full metal alchemist oc for role-playing at first. I was young and the role played story for him makes me cringe at how emotionally manipulative his actions were without me having any self awareness about it. Im not exactly sure when he started to join in on the short/uncompleted stories with the main five, but I think it was either We Are Salvageable or Crack Oc Highschool. He was mostly just one of my average ocs for role plays until then. Jesse was created for a very ambitious harry potter role play where, if I remember correctly, we were doing eight oc's each per house. At the time Jester was a very new character and I was struggling to think of more slytherians, so I came up with Jesse. Jesse was made to be the nicer version of Jester. This quickly changed to the opposite the more I wrote. Malcolm and jesses relationships has been through all sorts of changes and will continue to do so, but, I do at least have more personal background for Jesse, his internalized homophobia, and how he sees interactions with others. It also made me conclude that whether malcolm is gay or bi won't change the fact that he is out and proud. Their relationship also helped me flesh their insecurities, specifically ones tied to masculinity. Jesse is skinny, lanky, well groomed, formal clothes, and arrogant with large amounts of condescension to boot. He thinks power, sociatal, economical, and power strength is what separates real men from riff raff. To him homosexuality is unmanly, which is oh so terrible thing to be (this boy makes me so tired sometimes). Malcolm has a horrible father as an example and though he recognizes this, its hard to apply to himself. He has to be physically strong, he has to be aggressive and incite violence against people he considers bad, and he very much struggles to reign in his temper. He doesn't judge others by presentation but he does use phrases like be a man and the like.

Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for asking :3

[sprstories]

could I possibly get some platonic scriptliss/tess ,,,, maybe an au where tess is able to be saved ? or at least is able to control 1x1x1x1 a bit better

but it's up to you what you want to write !! :D

For Tess, bringing (or rather summoning) a demon into his home was definitely a new way of life, considering that now he would have to take care of the permanently guest. Because yes, apparently the demon ironically did not know how to return to hell.

Ok, you can't blame Scriptliss for being summoned at a young age and considering that the chances of someone summoning a young demon were low, no one bothered to teach him the basics, at least not now.

Now, it wasn't like Scriptliss was a child either, he was a teenager, yes, but he was still a minor, maybe he's a year younger than Tess?

Anyway, never mind, he was going to take care of Scriptliss now, it was his responsibility now that he had permanently separated him from his family (if he had any).

The first days were not very comfortable, before he could calm the demon and not let him cry all day, but it was still uncomfortable, and more uncomfortable was the moment when he found him in the fireplace... sitting on the fire.

Demons cannot be burned with normal fire, and he deduced that the reason he sat there was because he got used to warmer places.

Many times he tried to get the boy out of there, all attempts with the same results, being scratched (and almost burned) by the demon with a tendency to be a cat.

And if Tess tried to speak with him, the ribbon-tail demon ignored him, how rude, but understandable, have a nice warmer day Script!

But he was getting tired of that, Scriptliss knew how to throw all his sanity and work to the trash, little by little he began to get tired of his stoic and indifferent attitude, he felt hated, and he did not like to be hated.

On the part of Scriptliss, he couldn't do anything, he was trapped, he had nowhere to go, nor would the robloxian with violet hair let him go anywhere, he felt... kidnapped.

He didn't even sleep at night, he was afraid of being attacked from behind. Every day he was more tired, and that meant more irritability and aggressiveness against the "human".

He also felt fear running down his back, fear of dying, many rumors said that demons died faster on the surface than in hell, no demon could confirm it, perhaps it is why those who tried to confirm it died in the attempt?

He wanted to cry, never thought of dying at a young age.

then a day, in that dysfunctional environment, the, presumably older, finally faced his guest from hell.

— We need to talk. — The demon growled, turning his back on him. Tess might well have prevented that if it weren't for Scriptliss being engulfed in layers of fire that could severely burn him. More tired than everything, he began to speak. — Do you hate me, right? i.. i will not hurt you, i swear. — He waited for response, but nothing came from the demon's mouth. — Listen, i know i probably.. made a huge mistake summoning you, you can't go back to hell, that's sad yeah, but... you can give this world a little chance? —.

— I don't want you to be here, with me. Go away. —.

His voice felt... hurt, with a little fear, it was actually the first time in days that the bookmark one spoke. But that didn't really matter to Tess, honestly, he just wanted to figure things out and if possible, have a new friend so he wouldn't feel so alone.

It sounds selfish, but who knows, maybe and Tess is the first social interaction Scriptliss had in his life, he was convinced that he could show him the world and see the beauties in the surface.

— In case you haven't noticed, this is my house, and you can't kick me out of the room just because you want to be alone. — Tess was getting more and more angry.

— I want to be alone because you intimidate me and scare me, and I don't want to see you, and you're ugly and i hate you... and.. and.. — Apparently he had no other words to express his displeasure. — and i can't leave this fireplace, i need to be warmer. —.

— I see, and if I turned off this fireplace ... would you talk to me? —.

Then Scriptliss turned more scared than ever, seeing the alchemist with one hand on a lever, firmly stroking the handle of the lever, threatening to put out his fire.

— WAIT NO, NO, DON'T TURN OFF THE FIRE. FINE, I WILL TALK TO YOU. —.

And that scared look he gave... made the alchemist wish he had swallowed those words.

Now all that Tess anger turned to slight sadness and shame, he regretted having to threaten Scriptliss to get his words.

— Ok, i'm sorry for that. — Tess spoke, ashamed. — but, tell me now, "Script". Why do you find me scary? —.

Scriptliss looked at the ground, helpless, and half astonished that the purple haired boy remembers his name (because Scriptliss honestly did not remember his partner's name).

— To begin with, you kidnapped me, or so I feel, I feel locked up and it's your fault, to be honest. — Script made a serious grin. — second, I don't trust you much, I don't know if you could stab me in the back or something like that. And third, I literally don't know you, I don't remember your name, and it's awkward now to adjust to living with a stranger. —.

And there it was, the bitter truth, the ugly thought about his person, and the worst thing was that it was true.

Tess waited to hear simple words, they weren't ready to savor THAT truth. The Robloxian's hand scratched lightly against his own hair, nervous.

— Yes, I see how it is, actually... i didn't expect to leave you with me until I realized that you couldn't go back to hell, I figured that if I let you go, you'd get in troubleand the mental fault would be mine. — Scriptliss looked at him seriously, recording those words that would stay like fire in his mind. — I'm sorry that you felt so locked up, I never really had a guest at my house and I didn't know where to leave you, plus you... always stayed there... in the fire .. looking at me as if you were a cat, a very aggressive one.

Tess let out a small laugh, which inevitably rubbed off on Scriptliss by imagining himself as a cat.

— Look, the point is, I understand that you distrust me and do not feel free... if you want you can go now. The door is here, unlocked. —.

The crimson widened his eyes, apparently now he was free, and might feel good, if not for a little problem.

Where would he go now?

He wanted freedom, but at the same time he was afraid to go to the outside world, he felt locked up, but somehow safe.

And the alchemist was right, if he showed himself to the world as a demon, he could possibly cause many disasters.

Had a great mental dilemma, to leave or not to leave? it was something so simple and complex to assimilate.

He looked at his surroundings, now that he noticed it, never noticed that staying there was the best idea, he always thought about leaving, but leaving meant revealing himself against the world.

And inside... at least he had a fireplace and a strange alchemist who swore to protect him. Besides, that guy already explained WHY he didn't want to let him go.

— Don't you want to leave? I am not saying that you stay here, if it is more comfortable for you to get away from this place, I accept it. —.

Scriptliss looked at him with pity, now he felt a little bad for having treated him horrible, Tess only wanted to help him, how ungrateful he was!

— I... i... I will stay here. — Then he received a surprised look, it seemed that Tess's soul went out for such an answer, but in a few seconds, that look turned into a big and bright smile, that only confirmed that... Tess was actually a good boy. — Don't look at me like that, i'm staying here just because i need the fireplace. —.

Tess nodded, extending his hand to his new supposed friend. But then he came to his senses and pulled his hand away before gets burned, he really had to get him out of there without scaring Script.

— Look, don't be scared, but I need to put out the fireplace. —Scriptliss pouted. — Don't look at me like that, you're not going to stay there forever, besides, if you want to get used to this new life, you'll have to take the first step.

But scriptliss could no longer repent, he had signed his sentence, his new life, he would have to get used to the surface temperature, and depend on that alchemist.

— ... Fine. —.

Before Tess could put out the fire, the demon jumped out of the fireplace causing his temperature to drop and the fire to rise.

And now that he saw him well and standing on his two legs, he noticed that... they did not have much difference in height, perhaps and even Script passed him by an inch or two.

It was inevitable that the demon would start to shiver from the sudden temperature change, he felt frozen. And it was noticed by the Robloxian.

— Uh, look, you can lie on that sofa, that one, the one in front of you, I'll bring you some blankets and a hot tea, okay? —.

Scriptliss nodded, leaning back and inevitably starting to feel drowsy, the effects of insomnia hitting him hard after three days without sleep.(Or just sleeping an hour each day).

As for Tess, he had several dilemmas in his head, now he would (officially) take charge of the demon until he gets used to it, that meant having to adapt him to the "real world" in a subtle way, but that wouldbe taken care of later, now his duty It was making the devil comfortable, he deserved it, you see.

He had to hide it from the world until he got over his fears from the outside, he was confident in bringing his "new friend" forward, he was not a normal robloxian, but he was a living being that was simply traumatized by ridiculous stories from hell.

Tess returned to the living room, and was not surprised to find Scriptliss asleep on his sofa, it was to be expected, for something he did not make the tea first.

He rolled the crimson gently over the fabrics and let the heat of the fire embrace him. That would definitely calm him down.

He stared at it for a while, many thoughts invaded his mind, to tell the truth, he was somewhat excited and nervous about the unexpected turn that his life took, who knows, maybe and in the future they will get along and have at leastone friendship or tolerance for each other.

A robloxian and a demon... friendship not very common to see, especially around here, but never impossible.

But, he really did see a bright future for both of them, and they would have it, didn't they?

...Tess, you should stop thinking about the future and focus on the present.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Extra info: Scriptliss got sick. (Thanks Tess very cool).

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

You Keep Saying You’re Broken (I’m Telling You We’re Beautiful)

Ao3

Summary: Logan loved someone. That wasn’t important. What was important was that he didn’t love them enough. Remy seems to think he’s got the two backwards. Content: Magic AU, nonbinary!Remy, aroace!Logan + aroace!Remy, internalized aphobia, tiny bit of swearing, h/c, happy ending Pairing: Friends-to-qpps losleep

    It didn’t work.

    It didn’t work, again, didn’t do what it was supposed to, and he had been so careful this time, he knew it was right, knew he hadn’t messed up, and yet nothing was happening and it had failed so he had failed and-

    Someone was knocking on his door.

    Logan ignored them in favor of the pounding in his head that was quickly taking over all his hearing facilities. The vial he had been holding dropped limply to the ground, rolling away from him; the photo fell too and drifted away from him as well. He pressed his now free hands against the desk in front of him, trying to brace himself, to steady himself before he fell over and joined everything else on the floor.

    “Logan?” A much too familiar voice called out. “You in there?”

    No. No no no- not them, anyone else but them-

    The door pushed open, the cause of all his problems but not the source of them peeking their head into the room, looking around. “Hey, I know you’re big on privacy, babe, but I- Lo?”

    He couldn’t hide. They were right there and he was right here, out in the open, and Remy’s expression was starting to become one of concern and despite the fact that he was looking at them- actually looking at them, not just a photo now- Logan still didn’t feel different, didn’t feel changed, didn’t feel his heart soar or his chest burn or anything of the like, didn’t feel anything everyone always said they felt like when they were in-

    “Lo, is something wrong?” Remy asked, breaking him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to Remy, who had taken a few steps into his room and cocked their head in confusion. “You’re looking a little… off.”

    Logan cleared his throat. He could do this. All he had to do was convince Remy he was fine and get them to leave so that he could try again and maybe actually get it right this time.

    “I am adequate.” Logan started, and he was proud of himself for how level his voice sounded. “Apologies for worrying you, however- is there something I can assist you with?”

    “You’ve been in your room a while. I just wanted to check in.” Remy said, still looking mildly concerned. “You sure you good, hun? You’re a little pale.”

    “Simply a side effect of lots of hard working.” Logan answered. “But I assure you, I am doing just fine.”

    Remy frowned. “If you say so… still, you shouldn’t be working that much. Come take a walk with me, yeah, clear your head a bit?”

    Logan shook his head in negation before Remy had even finished their sentence. “While that sounds very pleasant, Remy, I really am quite busy- can’t be distracted while my work’s at such a crucial juncture-”

    As Logan spoke, Remy’s frown quickly morphed into a smile. “I knew it.”

    “Hm?”

    “I knew it!” Remy repeated, moving past Logan to get a better look around his room. “You’re experimenting again. Something real dangerous if you don’t want me to know about it- have you finally tried your hand at artificial dragon fire? For all you mock my version of it I’m sure you’ve quickly realized it’s not nearly as easy to make as the books say it is-”

    “I’m not experimenting!” Logan cut them off, trying to sound indignant and not panicked. If Remy went looking too long they might find his supplies. “And I really do have work to do, so if you could kindly-”

    “Sorry, babes, but you can’t fool me.” Remy said, still looking. “You were always a terrible liar- you know that?- absolutely horrible, never could keep your… work a secret… Logan, what’s this?”

    Logan turned from where he had been glaring at his desk to look at Remy. The moment he saw what they were holding, his breath caught in his throat and he froze.

    The vial.

    The vial he had been using for his experiment.

    The vial that still had traces of his latest attempt staining the inside of it.

    Remy pushed their sunglasses up on top of their head, honey-brown eyes full of worry and the beginnings of fear now on display. “Logan.” They repeated, voice sounding slightly shaky. “Why is the vial empty?”

    Logan didn’t answer them, instead remaining stock still in place, hands still planted on the desk behind him to make sure his now much more wobbly legs didn’t give out on him. 

    “You drank it.” Remy guessed, the conclusion they had likely come to first only confirmed by Logan’s refusal to explain the vial’s emptiness. “And you’re hiding it so it must be bad- Logan, what did you drink?!”

    Still no response.

    Remy nodded. “Alright, you’re not going to tell me, either because you’re stubborn or it’s a side effect- damnit Logan you’re so pale- sit down, please, before you fall down.”

    Logan didn’t react to what Remy said, still trying to get past the mental shock that was ‘Remy’s going to find out and they’re going to stop you and your experiments and you will have failed them and yourself and it’s all over now just because you couldn’t hide your supplies-’

    He was dragged out of his thoughts by the sudden, but not unpleasant, feeling of hands gently grabbing his arms, tugging him away from where he was leaning against the desk and moving him to sit in his chair instead.

    “There we go.” Remy was murmuring, voice still sounding worried and afraid, but gentler now, likely an attempt to keep Logan from falling completely into a panic attack. “Now come on, hey, it’s okay, don’t look away, let me see those pretty eyes.”

    Logan’s attempt to keep his eyes downcast and focused on his lap was thwarted by Remy gently taking his chin and lifting it up, looking carefully at not only his eyes but his whole face. They were mumbling under their breath, and after a moment, Logan realized what they were doing- trying to categorize Logan’s symptoms to figure out what he had taken.

    That conclusion was enough to make Logan at least try to stand up, to move, get away until the symptoms were gone and his experiment hidden, but Remy just moved one of their hands to rest at Logan’s hip and hold him steady.

    “I know you probably think I’m babying you, Lo, but I need to figure out what stupid thing you took.” Remy chastised lightly, the hand on Logan’s chin moving to take his wrist instead, counting the pulse. “I know I don’t exactly set the best example for this sort of thing, but you really can’t just go around drinking potions- especially if you’re not an actual alchemist. What were you thinking?”

    “Nothing.” Logan managed to mumble. “I wasn’t thinking anything because it’s nothing- really, Remy, I’m fine, this is unnecessary-”

    “Mhmm. No offense, sweetheart, but I call bullshit on that.” Remy responded. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have tried to hide it from me. And you definitely have symptoms- your pulse is racing, your pale and shaking but your cheeks are still a bright red, your eyes are normally blue but right now they’re brown…”

    Remy trailed off, their eyes widening in understanding, and Logan pretended there was a chance they had come to a wrong conclusion. “What is it?”

    “Logan… why the hell were you drinking love potion?” Remy asked instead, frowning in confusion. In response, Logan looked away.

    Of course they had figured it out. Logan knew they would, knew Remy was too smart to miss it, to mix it up for something else, but that didn’t change the fact that he wished they hadn’t, hadn’t figured it out and put it down to Logan’s nerves and left him alone for the day to try again and this time get it right.

    Remy didn’t force Logan to face them, instead just quietly sighing. “Don’t move.” They ordered lightly. “I’m going to get my bag.”

    They sprinted out of the room after that, and Logan once more looked forward, looking at the door they had left open. He had half a mind to get up and close it, jam his chair beneath the knob and get back to his work, but he doubted that would last long before Remy broke the door down. He also doubted if he had enough strength- physical and mental- to get up and block Remy out.

    The choice was made for him quickly enough anyways, Remy returning before Logan could even test if his legs would support him enough to stand. They were ruffling through their brown satchel, soon enough throwing it aside as they pulled out a roll of chalky white discs.

    They offered one of the discs to Logan. “Eat this.” They instructed, pressing it into Logan’s hand when he didn’t immediately take it. Logan just held it for a moment, squeezing it pointlessly between his fingers, but Remy’s waiting stare was unrelenting and he gave into it soon enough. The taste of the disc was abysmal, but it dissolved quickly enough, and he swallowed it down as soon as he could.

    “Give that about five minutes and the majority of your symptoms should be gone.” Remy said quietly. “And while we wait for those minutes to pass, you can tell me why you were making and self-administering love potion.”

    Logan half-shrugged and looked at his lap. “I am my own person, I can make and self-administer whatever potions I should please at my own will.”

    “When it makes sense, maybe.” Remy responded. “But love potion? People use that to trick their crushes into liking them. Or to prepare themselves for a disastrous but necessary arranged marriage. Now, unless you have a future spouse I hadn’t been informed of-”

    “I don’t.”

    “-I don’t see any reason for you to have been taking this stuff.” Remy finished. “Care to enlighten me?”

    “It doesn’t matter.” Logan answered instead, shaking his head. “The potion didn’t work. I made it wrong. It doesn’t matter.”

    Remy raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Great stalling tactic but-”

    “I’m not stalling.” Logan snapped, the result of pent of stress and the desire for Remy to leave so he could get back to his work. He felt bad about his tone immediately, though, sighing as he softened it. “It really didn’t work, Rem.”

    At this, Remy frowned, looking between Logan and the vial. After a moment, they (to Logan’s shock and mild horror) put the vial to their lips and managed to convince a few spare drops to slide down into their mouth.

    “What are you doing?” Logan hissed, watching as Remy closed their eyes and swished the few drops around in their mouth. Remy didn’t respond for a moment, busy tasting the love potion. Finally, they swallowed.

    “Don’t worry about it, hun, I’m immune to most potions by now.” Remy told him, looking into the vial in bewilderment. “Though this one is really throwing its hat into the ring to try and disprove that- I don’t know how you got the idea that this thing is ineffective considering it’s a few more drops of hollybreath strain away from stopping your heart instead of exciting it. No wonder you’re shaking so badly.”

    “So… you’re saying it should’ve worked?”

    “To be frank, I’m not sure how it couldn’t have.” Remy answered, gingerly setting the vial down on Logan’s desk. “I’m a little surprised I don’t have to pin you down to stop you from running off to your new boo… what were you looking at when you drank this, anyways?”

    Though Logan heard Remy’s question, he didn’t answer it, instead once more turning his attention to his lap as his thoughts ran wild. The potion had worked. Hell, Remy said it was too strong, which meant at least some of the potions before must have worked too… but they didn’t. None of them had done what they said on the tin, none of them had made him fall in love. Not really, anyways, since there was no burning heart or sudden desire- there was just the same soft, impossibly warm sort of feeling in his gut that let him know he felt something, but not love, not really, just-

    Logan jerked out of his thoughts when Remy snapped their fingers in front of his face, Remy frowning, worry laced in their entire expression. “Earth to Logan? Darling, you know I love seeing your big brain in action, but I’d be lying if it wasn’t putting me a bit on edge right now. What’re you thinking about in there?”

    Barely a thought as to how to respond had crossed Logan’s mind before he was blurting out, “I’m broken.”

    Remy blinked. “Nope. Don’t like that. Your brain rights are being revoked. No thinking for you if you’re going to think wrong.” Remy said, light words contrasted by a distressed tone. “Honey, darling, sweetheart, why do you think you’re broken?”

    “Because the potions didn’t work.” Logan said miserably, too tired to try and backtrack or explain it away as anything other than what it was. “I thought I had been making them wrong, not adding enough of something, so I kept remaking them and trying again but none of them worked and I just thought the potions were wrong but it was me, I was wrong, the only same variable of course it was me-”

    “Logan, sweetie, please slow down.” Remy cut him off, placing their hands on Logan’s shoulders and running them lightly over his arms. “You’re not making sense. How many of these potions have you been taking?”

    “Three or four, I don’t know.” Logan said indifferently. “But it doesn’t matter, because they didn’t work-”

    “That’s not possible.” Remy said with a frown. “That love potion was strong, sugar, there’s no way you could’ve resisted it unless you had some sort of personal mutation against it- and your eyes changed colour, so I know you don’t. And if you’re telling me you drank more than one... the love potions had to have worked, Lo.”

    Logan shook his head. “No, they didn’t; I know they didn’t, I don’t feel any different, nothing’s changed-”

    “That means you’re already in love, darling.” Remy said gently. “Whoever you’ve been trying to fall in love with- you already love them. The potion can’t give you feelings you already have- no wonder you feel the same, you are the same. Not broken. Just already in love.”

    “That’s the problem!” Logan exclaimed, frustrated, curling his fists together and digging the nails into the skin, closing his eyes as well. “I’m- I love but I- but not enough, not right- the potion was supposed to fix that and- and it didn’t because I’m so fucking broken nothing can fix it-”

    “Please don’t say that.” Remy pleaded, one hand moving from Logan’s arm to cup his cheek. “You’re not broken at all, honey, but I don’t know why you think you are, and that’s worrying me. You’re worrying me. What’s gotten into your head?”

    Logan didn’t respond immediately, opening his eyes only to look unseeingly at his pants, trying to ignore Remy’s searching, troubled expression. “I love someone.” He admitted quietly.

    “...Okay. That’s okay.”

    “But I don’t-” Logan paused, struggling with his words, “I don’t want to kiss them. Or- or make-out with them, or have sex with them, or anything like that-”

    “That’s okay.” Remy repeated. “I don’t want to kiss anyone or have sex with anyone either. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

    “No, I-” Logan froze, processing what Remy had said, looking up at them in confusion. “What?”

    Remy smiled just a little. “Kissing’s weird. Sex is yucky. They’re not really my scene. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?”

    “I- wha- of course not.” Logan said, stumbling over his words but still sure of them.

    “Then- surprise!” Remy said, their smile growing a bit bigger. “You’re not broken either.”

    “But the potions-”

    “-make you fall in love as fully as you can.” Remy finished for him. “If you don’t like sex or kissing or romance or any of that, you won’t suddenly start feeling those feelings because you drank the potion. You’re not broken for not feeling those things. Just human. Why would you try to force yourself to feel like that?”

    “Y- the person I love, they… they deserve all my love.” Logan said, hoping Remy would ignore his obvious slip of tongue. “Before I told them I- I wanted them to have all my love; they deserve to have all my love.”

    Remy’s smile turned sympathetic. “Whoever this person you love is… you love them a lot, don’t you? Want them to be happy?”

    “Of course.”

    “Then you love them enough. Hell, you probably love them more than enough.” Remy told him. “Love isn’t parts- it isn’t one third sex and one third romance or anything like that. If you love them, you love them completely. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

    Logan didn’t respond to that, choosing to just look up instead, finding Remy’s eyes watching him closely and warmly.

    “Hun.” Remy said, tone lightly teasing. “Do you want to tell me who you were trying to ‘fall more in love with’ or should I guess?”

    Logan remained quiet, meeting Remy’s gaze evenly, not sure if he’d prefer for them to guess or just drop the matter entirely. Remy just kept smiling, looking much too amused.

    “Guessing it is, then.” Remy said delightedly. They moved, pushing Logan a bit to the side as they sunk down into the chair next to them, the hand that had been cupping his cheek slipping around his shoulder.

    “You don’t have to do this-”

    “I bet they’re really pretty.” Remy began, ignoring Logan. “Not as pretty as you, of course, but no one’s that pretty so it’s an unfair comparison. And I’mma say they have to be at least a little smart to get your attention given how absolutely brilliant you are-”

    “Remy!”

    “-and I know they have brown eyes because of the love potion, and I have a random suspicion that they’re an alchemist- though that one’s just a hunch- and I really have the feeling that for your cheeks to be as bright red as they are right now they must be very close to you indeed.”

    Logan didn’t need to touch his cheek to know it was, in fact, burning, but he still did, glaring at Remy when their words were only confirmed. “I hate you.”

    “Doubtful.” Remy responded cheerily. “In fact, cutie, I think you looooove me.”

    Logan groaned. “This. This is why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

    “Wrong again.” Remy said, leaning in to rub their nose against Logan’s before leaning their forehead against his. “I think you didn’t tell me because you were harboring under the horribly false idea that you having a brain and realizing that kissing and sex were overrated made you an unsuitable partner. But that’s okay. I’m going to prove you wrong about all of that.”

    Logan smiled at that, reaching over to take Remy’s free hand and run his thumb over the back of it. “How’d you guess?”

    Remy grinned. “My photo was next to the vial.”

    “...Oh.”

    “Thought you had just dropped it or something. Once I realized what you had been chugging I realized why it was really there.” Remy told him. “I didn’t mention it straight away because I didn’t want you to distract me from why you were trying to fall in love with me.”

    Logan nodded. “Yeah… I’m sorry, again, for that Remy, I just-”     “You loved me?”

    “I loved you.” Logan echoed. “Love you. And you deserve so much love, more than I felt I was offering-”

    “Hey-hey-hey, enough of that, now.” Remy said, cutting Logan off gently. “You don’t need to apologize to me, love. I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate the effort- in theory. But I also need you to know that I love you. You and your big brain and cute face and geeky personality.” Remy freed their hand from Logan’s so that they could brush back some of Logan’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. They smiled as they looked at him, expression sappy in a way Logan really felt should be illegal. “You are magnificent to me, Lo. If I’m lucky enough to get any of your love, in whatever form it may take, I promise you, it’s plenty more than enough.”

    Logan blushed even harder than he had been, which was impressive given up until that moment he didn’t think he could do that. “I- I… I think you’re magnificent too.”

    Remy grinned. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You look so cute when you’re flustered- and calling me magnificent back, oh, my dear darling starshine, you really are too sweet to be real.”

    Logan squeaked. Remy just laughed.

    “See, this?” Remy asked, leaning in and pressing a quick little kiss to the tip of Logan’s nose before pulling back and watching him turn redder. “This is why I love you.”

    “...I love you too.” Logan said, trying to act annoyed and be sullen but failing miserably in the sense that so long as Remy was looking at him like that- like he had hung the moon and painted the sunrise- he really couldn’t be anything other than a blushing, smiling, giddy mess. A love-stricken mess.

    “There you go.” Remy said happily, shifting so that their arms were wrapped loosely over Logan’s shoulders and around his back in an odd, yet comforting, sort of hug. Once more their forehead leaned against Logan’s, their eyes close and bright with excitement and joy and love as they looked at him. “That sounds like enough love to me, don’tcha think?”

    And with Remy’s eyes still on him, their expression so open and their smile so earnest as they held him close and made him feel warm both inside and out, Logan didn’t have any choice but to smile back, just as lovingly, and answer, “Yeah. I think it’s enough.”

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Things to Hold On To

Summary: A series of four missing moments from Forged Through Fire from other points of view to the main four. They didn’t really fit in the main fic, but I feel they add colour and depth to the minor characters and I wanted to write them anyway. 

Part four: Fuery reflects on the relationship between him and Breda as they keep a lonely vigil with the radio. Set between Chapters Eight and Nine.

Rated: T

Things to Hold On To

“You know that you’re not going to be of any use to anyone if you miss something vital because you’ve keeled over asleep, you know.”

Fuery looked over to Breda, standing in the doorway of Madam Christmas’s office with his arms folded and that patented ‘don’t be stupid’ look on his face. Breda seemed to wear that look a lot; especially when Hughes and Mustang were dreaming up one of their many schemes. Fuery hadn’t had it directed at him very often, though. 

“I’m fine.”

“It’s nearly four in the morning. You’ve been awake almost twenty-four hours straight. Take a nap. I can handle it for a while.”

Truth be told, Fuery was beginning to feel the tiredness creeping up on him. Considering all he had been doing was sitting at a desk, he’d been using his full concentration for most of the time that he’d been listening in to the Central Command radio chatter, and he was having trouble keeping that full concentration now. 

Breda came away from the door and pulled up the second chair from where he’d been working through the secret police code whenever one of their messages came in. 

“Take a nap,” he repeated, but this time his voice was soft and the expression was one of caring concern rather than ‘I’m surrounded by stubborn idiots’. “I know how much we all want to find him, but we need you fresh to be able to do this.”

Fuery sighed. “I can’t stop now. Mustang and Armstrong are still out at Central Command doing whatever it is that they’re doing. I feel bad having a break when they aren’t.”

“Yes, well, if Mustang and Armstrong were here I’d be telling them to take a nap too. And who knows? Maybe they’ve fallen asleep under a desk somewhere. Running on empty isn’t going to help anyone. Especially not Hohenheim and especially not you.”

Fuery felt Breda’s arm come around his shoulders, and he gave into the temptation to lean into him, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. Breda was warm and solid and made a very comfortable pillow. Of course, he would have been even more comfortable if Fuery wasn’t still wearing headphones, but that was a minor inconvenience. 

He felt the rumble of Breda’s laughter rather than hearing it. 

“What am I going to do with you?”

The headphones were pulled off, and Fuery found himself being levered upright out of his chair and propelled across the room into the bar area itself. Mustang was back, pouring himself a whisky, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“I’m fine, honestly, I just need a minute.” 

“Fuery, I didn’t realise before but you cram an awful lot of stubbornness into such a small frame. Don’t make me sit on you.”

Fuery decided he was past the point of protesting now and lay down in one of the booths, shoving his glasses in his pocket and letting Breda pull a blanket over him. Now that he’d stopped concentrating, sleep was rapidly taking over. 

“Just an hour,” he mumbled. “Wake me up in an hour.”

“I will.” 

He had just enough time to feel Breda pat his cheek before he was dead to the world. 

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

The voice was soft, and the hand shaking his shoulder was gentle, but Fuery was convinced it was only five minutes after he’d fallen asleep and he couldn’t open his eyes.

“Time to wake up, Kain. I need your help.”

The hand on his shoulder moved, and a finger began to tickle his nose instead. Fuery scrunched his face up and opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a fuzzy-looking Breda. 

“I’m awake. What time is it?”

“Half six. Madam just came down.”

“What?” Fuery sat bolt upright, attempting to throw the blanket off and put his glasses on at the same time and ending up completely tangled up. “I told you an hour!”

“I know, but God knows you needed it.” Breda helped untangle him. “You looked so cute and comfortable I didn’t have the heart to disturb you.”

They made their way back into the office, Fuery still grumbling, but it was very hard to be annoyed at Breda with his dependable common sense and no-nonsense attitude at the best of times, and even more so when he was so concerned for Fuery’s welfare. 

It made Fuery wonder what the relationship between them was, and how it had come to be. That there was mutual attraction there seemed to be a given, although neither of them had ever really voiced it in as many words. It was in the gestures, mostly. Breda was not an inherently tactile person, but he was happy to put an arm around him and let him lean in, even in circumstances that weren’t just the two of them frantically manning a radio; even when they were just sitting around enjoying a drink with the others. 

“Anyway, I caught something a few minutes ago but I need to concentrate on decoding it. There’s nothing doing on the channel at the moment.”

Fuery nodded his understanding and put the headphones back on, retuning the channel. It was just standard patrol chatter, nothing out of the ordinary, and he leaned back, watching Breda work through the notes he’d made until something caught his ears that made him grab pen and paper of his own and start transcribing, passing off the pages to Breda as soon as he was done with them. It was only a short burst of activity, but the urgency and difference in tone was enough to set him on edge. Breda kept working furiously; he was halfway through the notes when he began to swear under his breath, and once he’d finished decoding he threw the pen down and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Fuery looked across at the translation. It was mostly directional car movements but there were some clear words in there. 

Fifth lab deliver direct to Dr X keep sedated at all times unarrayed alchemist extremely dangerous.

Fuery didn’t know what it was that made him reach across and take Breda’s hand, but he was grateful for the squeeze that his own received in return. For a long time they just sat there like that, until Breda finally broke the silence. 

“Well, this sucks.”

He sounded so angry and so helpless, just as Fuery felt. 

Fuery decided to take a chance and slipped an arm around his shoulders, feeling Breda lean in almost by instinct. 

The radio chatter continued in Fuery’s ears until the drone of the activity in the bar began to increase behind them, but neither of them moved, both content to stay in the little bubble of comfort that they could provide to one another.

[justaghostingon]

Warmth of the Heart

Mona has a few very unexpected guests in the form of her ‘dear nephew who she’s totally met before’ Hugo, and his new friends.

Set in the same universe as “Cogs in a Steal Heart”

To read on ao3, click the link, https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256038 

or read below the cut.

Living in the west district meant Mona had her fair share of interesting encounters. After all, the west district was the “weird” district in the eyes of every other person in the city. Certain cobblestone streets burned as hot as fire beneath her feet even in the coldest winters. Voices whispered in the darkened entrance to the open sewers, where everyone knew better than to investigate. Mysterious Alchemists bought and sold strange magic to local mafia, minor nobles, or anyone who came to their shop with enough money to pay. In a place like this, it would be weirder if she hadn’t had a few strange experiences in her life.

So when four children appeared in front of her door in strange, bright clothes that were covered in oil stains and grime, she was not nearly as surprised as she probably should have been. Children were no strangers to her door. In the absence of any children of their own, she and Cyrus tried their best to provide a safe place for all the neighborhood children to come and eat a cookie or two. It was only a matter of time before that knowledge spread among the street rats of all the districts, and really she was more surprised it had taken this long.

But there was something undeniably bizarre about these children, something that tickled in the back of her brain. For one thing, they were considerably older than most of the children who came to their door, being either near adulthood or having just begun it. Not that age made them stop being children, Cyrus had a thousand stories of Hugo to prove that fact, but it was still odd to see them here.

Then there was their clothing. Even under all the grime, she could see the bright colors and light, floating fabric that only nobles or foreigners would dare to wear. They didn’t even have any spikes or hooks or anything sensible to tell people to leave them alone! The closest they had were the strange balls in that weird staff, which looked far too fragile to be used as a weapon. Honestly, she wasn’t certain how they’d made it to her doorway in one piece.

The only one who didn’t look like they were a walking trouble magnet was the tall blond in the front. He was dressed in sensible muted green, and had spikes on his wrists and goggles. The goggles tickled the back of Mona’s mind, but she couldn’t place why. His eyes darted back and forth, clearly aware of exactly how strange his friends were. He was most likely a local, and there was something oddly familiar about the way he held himself that reminded Mona of Cyrus.

Their eyes met, and he gave her a charming smile, but there was something strained in its corners. “Auntie Mona?” he asked, voice loud enough to carry into the street while the shadow in his eyes begged her to play along.

Calling her Mona, now that was definitely odd. She narrowed her eyes as she looked him over once again. Most children called her Auntie and never bothered to learn the rest of her name. She searched his face. Blond hair up in a ponytail but clearly well taken care of, glasses well polished and pushing up on his nose to mock people, A charming but insincere smile, and a scar on his eyebrow. Mona bit her lip. She knew how he’d gotten that scar, Cyrus had sobbed it out in her arms. It was a face she had never seen with her own eyes, but whose description she’d learned so well through her husband’s rants.

“Hugo??” She exclaimed, pulling the startled young man forward. “What happened to you?” And where was Cyrus? He’d said they’d stopped traveling together, but there was no way Hugo would be coming to her if something hadn’t happened right?

His eyes snapped wide, as she pulled him inside, muscles tense under her grip as she pulled his face down to examine it for damage.  “I-I,” he stuttered, before taking a deep breath and stepping slightly back, pulling gently away from her grip. “I’m so glad to see you again, Auntie,” he flashed her a smile that was clearly meant to seem familiar but came off as nervous. “But could we all be inside for the introductions?”

“Of course, of course!” Mona waved them all inside, closing the door firmly to keep out any watching eyes and locking it. She was well liked in the neighborhood, but one could never be too careful. She turned to her new guests, who stood awkwardly in the living room. “What happened?” she asked, fear clawing in her throat as she leaned heavily against the door. Where is Cyrus? she hoped Hugo understood her unasked question.

“We were attacked as we tried to complete an alchemic trial,” Hugo waved his hand dramatically, but his eyes sent her a warning look. “By a rival alchemist and a thug for hire. But never fear, we escaped without any conflict.”

“And thug?” Mona’s hand tightened around her heart.

“He and the alchemist are regrettably still out there,” Hugo bowed his head as if in shame, but he shot her a look that clearly said, ‘he’s fine.’ Mona closed her eyes with relief.

“We’re sorry to bring trouble to you,” her eyes snapped open to see the boy with the staff had stepped forward. “If you don’t think it's safe harboring us, we can leave and look for shelter somewhere else.” He smiled, but there were dark shadows under his eyes. Mona felt her heart go out to him.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “My husband has quite the reputation in the community, so you’ve nothing to fear here.” Hugo shot her a look and she quickly snapped her mouth shut, realizing that mentioning the man who probably helped attack them was not a good move. “I’m Mona,” she gestured to herself, hoping the change in topics would provide a distraction. “You can call me Auntie.”

“Varian,” the boy in front said, extending a hand to shake. Mona took it and found his grip was strong for someone who looked so skinny.

“I’m Yong!” the shortest said, pushing himself forward to pump her hand up and down enthusiastically. “It’s nice to meet you!” he beamed up at her with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Nuru,” the young woman dropped a curtsy. Mona stumbled into a rough copy of her movements, feeling suddenly horribly underdressed in her work clothes and stained apron. The girl before her moved like a princess.

Princess? Why did that word remind her of Cyrus’s letters? She cast another searching look over the three companions, noting the goggles on Varian’s head and the dynamite strapped to Yong’s leg. Something in her mind clicked. “You’re Princess,” she pointed at Nuru, whose eyes went wide as saucers. “And you’re Goggles, and Firecracker,” she pointed at Varian and Yong in turn.

“How did you...?” Nuru opened his mouth and then closed it with a shake of her head. Yong and Varian both tensed minsiculy and Hugo shot her a panicked look.

“Letters!” Mona clapping her hands together. All three children’s attention snapped to her. “He sends me letters!”

“I do?” Hugo mouths at Mona as the three children’s attention snaps to him. “I do!” he says loudly as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing his friends with his trademarked smile.

The smile that never worked on people who knew him well, if she remembers Cyrus’s words correctly.

“You send your Aunt letters?” Varian says as he raised an eyebrow at Hugo. “That’s surprisingly sweet of you.” Hugo blushed bright red and sputtered. Which is not in character at all with the boy Cyrus had described. Now wasn’t that interesting?

“What did he tell you about me?” Yong bounced on his feet. Oh no. Mona felt her hands twitch as he fixed her with a wide, eager smile.

“How about I make you some cookies?” she offered as she linked her hands together to stop their movement.

----------------

Being in the kitchen calmed Mona. Her hands moved with practiced ease, almost entirely of their own free will. There was very little need to think as she beat the eggs and mixed in the dough. But alas, there comes a part of baking were the food must go inside the oven, leaving Mona to pace and stew as she waited.

She wished Cyrus were here. He was more comfortable in silence that she was, and he knew Hugo well enough to easily pass for a relative when the questions began to inevitably began. He’d even gotten a fairly good read on his friends if his letters were anything to go by. Meanwhile she’d never even seen Hugo’s face before today. How was she possibly going to be able to keep this up?

A small part of her wanted to throw her hands in the air and admit the whole thing. To tell them that she was the wife of the man who they had fought, and that she wasn’t really a relative of Hugo’s at all.

But...but Hugo had come to her house for aid. Hugo, who trusted no one, who bragged about his ability to go it alone and complained heavily on having to rely on anyone else had come to her and Cyrus’s house when he was in trouble. That meant something. That was important.

She’d suspected as the years had passed that Hugo had grown somewhat attached to her husband, as much as he could attach himself to anyone. And now here he came knocking on her door with three other children for whom he’d willingly turned on Donella, the closest thing he had to a family, asking for Mona’s help. Hugo must be fully aware of how if Mona wanted, she could very easily send a neighbor up to her husband’s workplace and bring Cyrus and Donella down on Hugo’s head. But he’d still come here, not because of anything she had done, but because he trusted Cyrus enough to risk trusting in her.

She didn’t know what had happened on that journey he and Cyrus had gone on together to change Hugo so drastically. Perhaps it was his new friends, perhaps it was living away from Donella’s toxic influence, perhaps something else. But whatever the cause, Hugo had taken a leap of faith coming here, and Mona was loath to let him down.

Biting her lip, Mona tried to make a mental list of everything that Cyrus had told her about Hugo, and everything about her new house guests that had filtered through his letters. She had a war to wage, and she was going to do it right.

-------------------

Mona marched back into the living room like a soldier going to battle, wearing a smile like a shield and holding a plate of cookies like a weapon. “I brought cookies!” she practically sang as she placed them directly in front of Yong, whose eyes lit up as he reached automatically for one. Nuru batted his hand away, and directed his attention back to Mona as she slipped into her seat at the end of the table. Both children stared up at Mona, hunger written in their faces.

Mona gave a laugh as she waved her hand. “You can eat them, that’s what I made them for.” That was apparently all it took, because both Nuru and Yong instantly reached for the cookies, devouring them with a gusto that made Mona feel slightly proud and very concerned for their stomachs. Varian joined in as well, and even Hugo took a cookie, although he only nibbled on it, shooting her nervous looks from his place to her left as he did so.

Mona gave him a wink, confident her cookies would buy them some time before the questions began, but she underestimated her opponents. No sooner had he bitten into his second cookie than Varian said, “So Auntie, what has Hugo told you about us?”

The question sounded casual, but there was a glint in his eye that was sharp as steel. Hugo stiffened and for a brief second Mona panicked, afraid that their cover had already been blown. But no, Varian was leaning far to much into Hugo’s space, and the tilt of his smile was lopsided and teasing. She’d been married for many years, she knew that look.

“You’re a little shorter in person,” she said, watching Varian reel back in shock, teasing smile melting into surprise and slight hurt. Hugo spun towards Varian, hand half raised to reassure him as Mona delivered the final line, “But just as handsome!”

“H-handsome?” Varian’s cheeks turned red as cherries. She hadn’t seen anyone get that red since Cyrus’s blush when she’d loudly proclaimed to the guild leader that Cyrus gave the best hugs in the world in front of all the other guild members. She hadn’t actually meant for anyone else to hear and had been quite embarrassed, but Cyrus had pulled her into his lap for the rest of the evening, so it was worth it.

“MONA!” Hugo screeched, and that’s right, she was in the present, dealing with love struck kids and not back in the past with Cyrus. She had to focus here or they’d be caught.

She flashed Hugo her best apologetic smile. “I’m sorry dear, was I not supposed to mention that?”

“Those letters were written in confidence,” Hugo grit his teeth as he struggled to come up with a believable reason to stop her from talking. “Shouldn’t they be kept confidential?”

“Oh no!” Varian leaned forward, head in his hands and a goofy grin on his lips. “I want to hear all about how handsome you told your aunt I was.” From across the table, Nuru rolls her eyes.

Mona gave the boy an indulgent smile. “Now, now. If Hugo says the letters were in confidence, then I will of course keep quiet.” And not give away just how little she actually knows about them. She glanced at Hugo, wondering if he planned that, but his head was ducked as he nibbled on his cookie, ears flame red.

Yong piped up, asking about the cookie recipe, and table filled with quiet chatter. Mona kept herself alert, trying to steer the conversation to baking and other neutral subjects while Hugo did the same. She almost felt herself relaxing when Yong raised the innocent sounding question, “What was Hugo like when he was a kid?”

Mona’s face froze in a smile, and Hugo shifted slightly in his seat to hid his discomfort. Oh no, what would be the least suspicious answer? “A handful,” she said at the same time Hugo says:

“She doesn’t know.”

Mona started, glancing over at Hugo to meet his wide green eyes. Mona flicked her eyebrows towards the others to signal, “what now?”

Hugo cleared his throat. “What I mean is, when I met Auntie Mona, I was already in my teens.” He shot her a look that clearly said, ‘follow my lead.’ It looked very much like the one Cyrus used, and she had a feeling he would be proud.

“Thirteen is still a child,” Mona added, because really, it is. Hugo frowned and she continued, “I’m the auntie to all the children in our neighborhood.” This is the truth, and Mona has always felt that when lying, its best to stick to the truth, so there’d be less to remember.

“So Hugo grew up here?” Nuru asked with a curious tilt of her head.

Mona opened her mouth, but Hugo cut her off. “No,” he says, shooting a look at Varian. “I grew up in a different part.” Varian’s eyes fill with sympathy, and Mona wondered what parts of Hugo’s actual childhood he has told the boy. Clearly nothing to do with Donella.

“My husband found him,” she decided to explain, hoping Hugo would understand what she was referring to. “Chased off some thugs who were messing with him.”

Hugo grimaced, clearly not happy at her choice of backstory. “I would have been fine,” he grumbled with a half pout, then clearly remembering he needs to keep his friends curiosity sated he added. “They were more interested in hurting Olivia Cheese.”

“Yes.” Mona blinked for a second, trying frantically to remember who in the world Olivia Cheese was. A little mechanical mouse caught her eye, waving its paws frantically from the side of the room. She didn’t even question how it got on the table, so relived to recognize it from Cyrus’s story. “Yes what happened to her was horrible,” she gave Hugo a mock frown. “But I do remember having to clean human blood out of my carpet.” This was again true, although the blood was not Hugo’s.

Hugo’s shoulders hunched. “I was okay in the end though,” he said, sounding for all the world like a petulant kid upset over an embarrassing memory. Mona was impressed with his acting skills.

“You did brighten up after we got some food in you,” she conceded, and this is a lie, but it wasn’t too much of a stretch given most children’s reactions to her cooking.

“That’s true,” Hugo leaned back in his chair. “And I’ve been coming to visit ever since.”

“I’m glad you had someone one your side,” Varian’s smile is warm, but his eyes are far, far too old. “Having one person can make all the difference.” There’s a history there, Mona can tell, some time in his life when he’s had no one. But he seemed genuinely happy for Hugo, and it broke her heart for the child Hugo really was.

“Oh my, look at the time!” she hastily jumped to her feet. “I have to get the stew started for supper!” Hugo shot her a look, but she ignored him, tilting her head so he couldn’t see the sadness on her face. She only stopped when she reached the doorway to the kitchen, half turning back with a fixed smile, “Any allergies I need to know?”

There was a course of ‘No’s” and she hurried out of the room, hoping no one noticed the tears welling up.

-----------------

Ok, so she’d gotten a little emotional at the end, Mona thought as she absently chopped the potatoes and pushed them into the waiting pot. But it was nothing a few deep breaths couldn’t solve in the sanctity of her kitchen. She could already feel the tension leaving her shoulders as she watched the boiling pot.

Today’s meal was her famous stew, and as Cyrus frequently reminded her, it was a dish that not even the pickiest child could refuse. It was simple, easy, and best of all, it could be expanded to feed the many unexpected guests that had a habit of wandering through her house. It was perfect.

Cyrus would be sad he missed it though. A slight frown graced her lips as she got to slicing the carrots. She would need to save him a bowl, for whenever it was he came home.

And wasn’t that going to provide its own set of problems? She’d have to meet him at the doorway, or have Hugo to get there first. Someone had to warn him of what was going on. Had Hugo’s friends seen Cyrus’s face? Hugo mentioned they had run into Cyrus and Donella, would any of the remember him? Best not to risk it. But what could she do to prevent that? She glanced up around the sparse kitchen, looking for anything that could hide his face. Her eyes landed on the doorway and she froze.

Varian leaned against the door frame, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Do you need any help?” he offered as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“That’s very kind of you,” she gave him her warmest smile, “but I’ve got it under control.”

“Are you sure?” Varian pressed. “I know they’re a lot of us to drop by unexpectedly, and I’m very good at chopping vegetables.”

Mona opens to her mouth to turn him down, but stopped. There was something about the way he stood, a practiced relaxation hiding a strong desire to move that showed itself in the twitch of his hands. The barely hidden eagerness in his eyes to be useful, to make her like him.

It was a pattern of movement she was far too familiar with, from her own experiences trying to make a good impression to Cyrus’s family and friends. And from other, much darker parts of her past. But she didn’t dwell on those.

She moved slightly over to reveal the half chopped carrots behind her, as well as the rest of the vegetables. “If you could get these chopped for me, that would be a big help,” she said.

Varian didn’t need telling twice, quickly crossing the tiny kitchen and picking up the knife. He was very good, Mona noted, in fact he might be better at slicing than she was. A man who could cook was always a plus, she thought to herself, Hugo certainly had good taste.

And on the subject of Hugo... She spun the stew carefully. “How did you meet Hugo?” she asked, trying to keep her curiosity hidden.

Varian gave a start, clearly not expecting the question. Interesting. “Its a bit of a funny story,” Varian gave a half laugh, turning his eyes down to the carrot underneath his fingers. “He kinda...stole the totem from us?”

“Did he now?” Mona mused. That certainly sounded like Hugo. Varian gaped at her lack of reaction, and she realized she must have made a misstep somewhere. Perhaps thievery was a less common method of survival in his kingdom? “Hugo has his own path,” she said as she gave the stew another stir. “I’m not in a position to tell him which of his limited options he should take.” Varian still looked a little disgruntled, really, what kingdom was he from? so she added. “That being said, I am glad to see him putting his energies into questing with you and your friends.”

“Yeah,” Varian nodded, appeased. “Yeah, I’m glad he’s with us too.” He smiled down at the vegetable below his hands, this time a turnip. For a few minutes there was silence, before his shook himself out of whatever daydream he had entered. “But you want to know how he joined us right?” he gave her a sheepish grin.

“If you please,” Mona nodded, hoping to move the conversation away from any questions on her rather lackluster response to finding out her supposed nephew was a criminal.

“He gave it back,” Varian said, a slight smile playing on his lips. “The totem I mean, told us we were absolutely useless on the road and would need his help. It did not make a good impression.” Varian shook his head as he reached for another turnip. “But he was right. I-we did need him.” He bows his head, bangs brushing over his eyes, as if he thought that could cover the bright red blush on his cheeks.

“I’m sure he needed to go with you too,” Mona offers as she gave the stew another stir. “He’s a lot happier now. With all of you.” In more ways than you could possibly imagine, she didn’t add. Varian peeked up at her through his bangs, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.

“Varian where are...oh,” Mona looked up to see Hugo in the doorway, eyes darting between Varian and Mona. “What’s going on in here?” He asked, a note of panic giving away his inner turmoil that his otherwise relaxed demeanor did not.

“Just getting to know each other,” Mona giggled and Hugo’s eyes widened in alarm. “Your friend here is quite the cook!”

“What can I say?” Varian leaned against the counter with a smug grin. “I’m gifted in many areas.”

Hugo raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think chopping counts as cooking by any means.” Varian sputtered in protest, and Mona threw her head back and laughed.

-------------------

Dinner was an all around success. The children loved the stew, and all of them went back for seconds. Mona was glad she’d saved a bowl for Cyrus, sitting innocently off to the side.

The conversation was also far easier to navigate, as its seemed the more personal questions has all been used up over cookies, allowing Mona and Hugo to direct the conversation to safer topics, like where they were all from. It was here she learned that Nuru was an actual princess, and not just called that because of her proper manners. Varian was from Corona, which explained his aversion to crime, if even half the rumors of King Frederick were to be believed. Yong had a passion for fireworks and gunpowder that would have served him very well if he’d grown up in their kingdom, and Mona was privately glad he reserved it for much happier things.

But as the evening began to wear down, Mona began to grow quieter, eyes on the front door. Cyrus was out awfully late. Hugo had said that they had fought him. She knew Hugo thought Cyrus had been uninjured, but perhaps there had been an injury he hadn’t seen?

Hugo bumped her foot slightly under the table, and she turned to see him give her a reassuring smile. “She’s probably just keeping him late, like she always does when she loses,” he whispered to her. Mona gave him a weak smile in return, and tried to look at the door less. Hugo must be feeling really guilty if he was trying to reassure her, and the last thing she wanted was to make him worry more.

The sharp scratch of old keys in the door echoed through the room, and both Mona and Hugo jumped to their feet. “That’s my husband!” Mona cried as she pushed forward, “I’ll go greet him!” Hugo,” she waved her hand behind herself, “take care of the guests.”

“Oh hell no.” Hugo said as he hurried after her, leaving their three guests confused at the table. “They can take care of themselves.”

As the key made the final turn, Mona quickly pulled the door open a smidge and pushed herself outside, making sure that Hugo was directly behind her to keep the three curious kids from seeing him. Cyrus’s mouth opened in shock as he got a glimpse of Hugo’s face behind her, before she was tugging him down the street as the door closed behind them.

“What’s going on?” Cyrus gasped as Mona pulled him into a hug.

“Hugo’s brought his friends to visit,” she hissed in his ear. “Put this on and don’t talk.” She pulled a brown paper bag from the pocket of her apron, and pushed it into his hands.

Cyrus placed it over his head without question, and oh, Mona loved this man. But she restrained herself. She couldn’t kiss him with a paper mask on after all, so she settled for linking their hands as she pulled him back inside.

Hugo shot them a look that made it very clear how very stupid he thought the paper mask was, but he couldn’t exactly object as Cyrus’s large form came into his companion’s view.

“Everyone, meet my husband! You can call him Uncle!” she smiled as brightly as she could. Cyrus squeezed her hand in reassurance.

All of Hugo’s friends stared at Cyrus’s mask as if they’d never seen anything so strange in their entire lives, which Mona did not think was fair considering the adventures they’d been telling her about. “What is on your head?” Yong piped up with the question that no one was voicing.

“I can explain,” Hugo stepped forward between his friends and Cyrus. “You see, he suffers from horrific facial scaring, which he is quite embarrassed about.” All three children had the decency to look a bit ashamed of staring after that response, and Mona felt privately grateful for his silver tongue.

“That’s horrible!” Nuru said, expression morphing into one of sympathy. “May I ask what type of scaring?”

Cyrus let go of her hand to make a fist. With his other hand, he wagged his fingers around it to mimic fire.”

“Third degree?” Nuru gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. Beside her Varian and even Yong looked upset.

“He means fire,” Hugo rolled his eyes. “He got in an explosion.”

“Then why was he holding up three fingers?” Yong frowned.

“Those were the flames,” Mona offered, and Cyrus gave a thumbs up.

“We’re very please to meet you sir,” Varian said, clearly trying to take control of the conversation, but halfway through a yawn punctuated his sentence.

“Oh dear,” Mona raised a hand to her lips. “It’s gotten very late. Perhaps you kids should go off to bed.”

“We’re fine,” Varian suppressed another yawn, which set off Nuru and Yong. “We wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Yeah, they can handle a bit of rudeness, trust me,” Hugo moved forward to tug Varian out of his seat. Cyrus made a shooing motion with his hand to agree.

“We really don’t mind,” Mona added, hoping that they would give in and just go to sleep so Cyrus could take off the paper bag she’d stuffed him in. It couldn’t be fun to wear. “The guest room is the second door on the left. Go on.” Varian looked like he might protest, but another tug from Hugo was all he needed to stumble off, Yong and Nuru trailing behind him.

As Hugo pushed the door closed on the others, muttering some excuse about needing to talk to his relatives for a moment, Cyrus turned to Mona and tugged off the paper bag. “Anyone going to fill me in on what’s going on?” he whispered.

Hugo and Mona exchanged a look. This was going to take a while.

------------------

“You know the one thing I don’t get?” Cyrus murmured as they cuddled together on their bed, voices low so as not to disturb the sleeping children in the next room. “Why’d he bring them here?”

Mona raised her head from his chest to him in the eye. “I thought something happened on the trip, something to make him trust you more?”

Cyrus shook his head. “I listened to him give his reports, but he was totally willing to lie to me to keep me away from them. Him coming here after that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I see,” Mona frowned. Thinking back on Hugo’s words as he’d explained himself to her and Cyrus. “Maybe then he did it for the reason he said, ‘because it’s the last place Donella would look?’”

“No way,” Cyrus ran an absent hand through her loose hair. “He’s got a hundred better hiding holes than this one, and a lot of shady places and favors that even Donella doesn’t know about. I just didn’t mention them so he wouldn’t get defensive.”

“Well,” Mona bit her lip, trying to come up with the words to express what she was thinking. “That wouldn’t be very welcoming would it?” Cyrus cocked his head to the side, and she knew she had his full attention as she pressed on. “They’d be safer, but they'd be cold and miserable. Coming to us, its a lot warmer, you see?”

Cyrus gave a nod, and pulled her close. “We do run a very warm household,” he agreed.

“The best in all the kingdom,” she murmured as she snuggled back into his chest.

Tomorrow they would have to wake up super early to sneak Cyrus out of the house without their guests taking to much notice. Tomorrow she’d have to brew them all a very large pot of porridge to feed them properly before their big journey. Tomorrow Hugo would leave with his friends, after dramatizing his sadness at leaving his “dear aunt and uncle.” But tomorrow could wait a few more hours.

[seyaryminamoto]

Anon-Nemesis - Right, I’ve got some free time, so I’ll have to make this a quickie, but I thought about my answers while at a boring family lunch thing.

Favorite Character: Ozai (The way you write him anyway, he’s pretty meh in canon))

Least Favorite Character (one who’s constantly there): I do have a few less than liked minor characters, but none of them are “Constantly There” So I have no good answer for this.

Favorite “Antagonist”: Ozai & Ol’ Spooky (Seethus) Lets face it, Ozai is the big papa of baddies, quite literally, and Ol’ Spooky spooked me good in his arc, at least till Azula and Xin handed him his own ass on a golden platter. I’m listing them together because you sort of portray them as a team where Seethus is just an extension of Ozai’s will personified (I might’ve picked Zhao too, but he hasn’t actively opposed our main duo too much so far, so instead I will pick)

Favorite OC: Rui Shi, duh. The guy has been there nearly from the start and has had Azula back even back in the early days when she was quite a jerk and hadn’t been, uh, tamed by Sokka (lol, not my best choice of words but I’m sticking to it, Azula might find the idea privately amusing these days but would kill me for sure for saying it like that) I feel like Goro would be high on this list, as would Ol’ Spooky, but we seen too little interaction with either for me to list them.

Favorite Gladiator: Aside from Sokka and Toph; My fav is The Millennium Dragon. Runners up The Alchemist (Well his sponsor is more interesting than him) Special Shout Out to the Dart Slayer, he jobbed so hard he got Sokka recruited (Was it Dart Slayer? Shit, it was so long ago) and a last conflicted entry, Rhone, I like what he represents (Basically Evil Sokka) but I don’t like him as a person, the dude is a straight asshole who needs a good thrashing.

Favorite Suitor or a Suitor I wished would make moves on Azula: Toph, I don’t mean in a shipping sense, but just Toph could mess with Azula and offer to marry her as a joke or something. Azula’s reaction would be priceless. A more serious answer, Zhao, He may be a douche, but I kind of like the guy in Gladiator, he’s not quite morally grey, but he does seem to only want the best for Azula, or his idea of the best, which ain’t actually the best for her.

Most Relatable Character: The young dude who works the desk at the Royal Dome, Shouji I think its spelled, such a timid little fellow, yet so composed since he’s always coming face to face with some of humanities mightiest people, the Gladiators, and scummiest people, sponsors. Plus he knows his business and does his job effectively. Supporting Sokka’s career is also nice. Also, special shout out to Keno. Wait, who was he again? Ah nevermind, probably nobody important. Anyway, where was I? …

Character I’d like to see more: Ol’ Spooky, mainly, that creeper really fascinates me, Its funny how he and Azula are frightened of eachother even though Azula would effortlessly waste his ass. I want to know how Ozai keeps the loyalty of someone that dangerous. Is he even human? Or some ancient fire spirit? He’s one of the biggest mysteries you’ve got going. Goro is one I really hope you develop, He’s got a nice fatherly, or grandfatherly vibe that could be a much needed point of stability for Azula in part 3.

 Favorite Canon (Gladiator canon)Pairing: Main Duo aside, Rui and Song were my number 1, but lately Ozai/Ursa has stolen it (Even though Ursa is gone.

Favorite Non-Canon Pairing: I can only come up with joke pairings I’m afraid, but. One sided Ty Lee X Ozai (The mental image of Mr. propper n serious, but buff, handsome Firelord with that bubbly bundle of joy hanging off his arm, bugging him to take her somewhere fun. I can’t stop laughing, he just wants her to get lost, and Azula is deeply worried about her friend’s sanity) Azula X O'l Spooky, or Azula X Sparky Sparky Boom Man (No matter which way you slice it, its one big, powerful and passionate fire storm, loud and explosive, silent and deadly, and each hella destructive) Okay fine, I’m only thinking of their bending, not the characters themselves. Sokka X Boomerang/Sword/Club (Wholesome until you realize he’s having a foursome with his own armory. Hell, let’s throw Azula into the mix, she can bring her own sword. Man, that’d be a dangerous bed, so many sharp and pointy accidents waiting to happen. But maybe Space Sword X Wolf’s Bane, they fight together, and snuggle together, just like their owners.

Favorite Arc: Tough call. Its a rivalry between Giving In arc, Slave Riot arc, Fire Lord’s Shadow and Air Temple arc for 2nd place. But 1st Place goes to combined Whaletail Island/Shu Jing arcs with how well they flow together, you outdid yourself with them, fluffy as half of them were

Favorite Place/Location:

 Part 1 or Part 2?:

I wished to see Sokkla more in/like … :

Guessing Game: Guess how good/bad I am at guessing games.

Finish the following sentences: “They don’t? I guess they were probably too busy looking at your… a-at… y-your ? ? ?” (Yeah, spot that one motherF-ers, I dare you.)

I think Azula & Sokka’s relationship will be revealed when/like/because of … Their own inability to exert willpower over their horny impulses. In other words their own reckless stupidity.

I believe at the end of Part 3 … Ozai gonna die, that’s about all I’m certain of. The invasion happens, lots of death and destruction. Since Aang ain’t a killer, my money is on Aang defeating Ozai but its Katara or The White Lotus who kill him. I don’t think Azula could do it though no matter how much she comes to hate her dad. Sokka won’t either since Azula still cares about Ozai, he’s still her papa. Besides, Azula may be too busy having a violent ass knockdown drag out deathmatch with Ol’ Spooky to keep him off the heroes backs, she wins and Ozai loses his two greatest assets. Ozai fights to the bitter end, ignoring Azula’s pleas for him to surrender, he’s too far gone in his hubris, his ego and his rage at Azula’s betrayal by then. Afterward, happy-ish ending, bittersweet, but Azula becomes Fire Lord, Sokka becomes Fire Lady, and has lots of kids and rule happily everafter, of 5 minutes ever after since those two can’t stop attracting trouble.

I’m glad you had a chance to join in! :D thank you for that submission, my friend!

[ofcloudsandstars]

Hey, dear! I've missed seeing you on my dash, how are you doing? What would you say your summer has been like? Sending lots of love and good vibes!

Ahhh this is so kind! I hope you have been well too. I am working on September’s forecast but I have been a bit slow since I am tired with some stuff going on. I am working on a sacred geometry virtual gallery for the plant alchemist mentor so I have been dizzy with motion sickness throwing this gallery together before the full moon haha. 

Last week I just got back from the most insane adventure that I may probably get around to writing another endlessly long post about haha. (editing this post, it turns out that THIS has become the endlessly long post about it haha so I am having a read more added). CW: sex details. It may be TMI but I added a warning before lol 

  Anyway I was having this mutual attraction with this italian guy I met through work who ALSO has a venus in Scorpio like me. We were going to go on a date but the world succumbed to The Plague. He returned to Puglia to be with his family as he quit the company and his apartment so he can just chill and live for free while he figures stuff out, but he was flirting with me through text all throughout lockdown and begging me to visit him when it was safer to travel so I was like: Oh yeah?!?!?! And I booked a 5 day long first date/vacation to Puglia to be with him lmaoo. Venus in Scorpio is intense as hell but we just be like that. My close aries witch friend moved to Southern Italy with her BF too for the time being so I was like ok if stuff goes south she can come save me but this guy like took me FARRR AWAY on the southern coast like 3 hours from her omg. He booked beautiful places like old medieval stone villas (omg one place had a wooden four poster bed, a stone fireplace with a cauldron and a huge color-changing hot tub jacuzzi next to the bed lmaoooo) and we ate endless seafood and went to the beach everyday. Only set back is we were NOT SEXUALLY COMPATIBLE at ALL and it’s really sad cause yeah I got his star chart and over analyzed it before going over there but sometimes I doubt myself like ohh not everyone is their starchart to a T, like you should give people a chance. But he was  e x a c t l y  like his star chart.

First he has A LOT of trines like a lot of fire energy which is great. He’s super passionate, but the trines means he is too chill and positive which is nice but it means he has little motivation to do anything. (Think when there are great trine transits happening, it’s FANTASTIC for doing magic and manifesting things but those days the energy is so chill and harmonious you don’t even want to do anything and they can easily pass you by.) Meanwhile my chart?? It’s fucking SQUARES ALL DAY BABEY like Squares, Oppositions and more Squares. I have something called the grand cross on my fucking chart lmao. So that means I overthink, I can get stressed easily, my life soundtrack is just this long anxiety ridden drum and base background music as I fucking parkour through endless obstacles of racism, sexism, gender identity, fleeing the states cause it’s becoming a totalitarian government, learning a bunch of european languages and skills in case I gotta flee england next, thinking about the future, thinking about my actions in the present, thinking about how I can learn from the wounds of my past, lmao everything is thought about at least 1000 times. I also have a lot of Saturn energy my chart is Saturn dominant so there is a lot of planning, structure and organizing to me. Meanwhile since he is hosting he never has a plan and is always ‘go with the flow’ so sometimes it makes me nervous cause the first place he booked was some GHETTO sex motel that looked like sex traffic was happening in there and I was in the middle of no where with him and I was nervous like praying to the Spirits of Nature and Venus to help me work this out haha. But it was ok. 

His life is so easy cause he’s like a handsome italian man with a mom that wants him to live at home with her until he finds a wife to mommy him. He never has to do any house work or really any work at all cause his parents will support him cause that’s normal in Italy. Honestly if I got with him I would never get that same treatment I would also be hauling ass in the background to cater to him and our kids until the day I die. He also doesn’t really understand what it’s like to be of a group of people ostracized by society. He is a hot cishet white man and has a whole community of good friends and a mom to support him with whatever he does.

He’s also like really traditional and was raised Christian. I told him I was a witch and he was like ohhhhhhhmyGOddddddd and thought it was fucking weird haha and I was like: YOU NEVER NOTICED ME AND ROXANNE (my aries witch friend who moved to Italy who literally wears massive metal pentagrams everyday) ARE WITCHES?! And he was like: I do not know about this haha. 

Lastly about his starchart which worried me when I first reviewed it is that our natal mars are at a square. I mean I have had sex with someone’s Mars in Aries before and it was great but his sex?? Was TERRIBLEEEE!!!!!!!!! TERRIBLEEEEEEEE OHHHH MY GOD. I am going to add a CW for some sex details in case you want to scroll but like: 

--

My Mars is in Cancer so I do like it to be sensual and cuddly with some oral action but he was like so terrible and disgusting and I feel like he probably only slept with girls in his country who may have been traditional like him and never said anything to him cause I am like I dunno how you got away with this for so long having terrible sex like this. Like so grabby and aggressive it fucking hurts like he would have left bruises and I hate that shit like sex is supposed to feel good!! I don’t mind if you grab my ass cause it’s just sacks of fat lol but my boobs have shit in them like glands you can’t be grabbing that!! And sorry this may be TMI but like I’d communicate with him all the spots I’d like him to go to cause they are the most sensitive ones and he’d just ATTACK THEM like some type of police dog sniffing hidden cocaine I am like BITCH CALM DOWN I literally would have to stop him so many times so he wouldn’t hurt me. And he once said: Oh but I like that (being aggressive in bed) and that annoyed me so much I was like: Oh so if you like aggression do you want me to grab and twist your balls in the same way? And he was like: no. lol 

And then his kissing was tErrible. He wouldn’t even start out sensual he would literally just shove his whole tongue in my mouth and it’d be slimy and terrible and tastes like the ash from the weed he’s always smoking and once during sex I bent down to make out with him and he literally just stuck his tongue out in preparation I paused like: NO!!! Like omg he got me so heated I am so heated just typing this lmao. I am also really sensitive with like sensory things and have misophonia so sometimes if certain stimulations are stimulating me the wrong way I get more put off than the usual person and sex is so intimate like every time he grabbed a sensitive part of me I wanted to slap him the fuck back haha. The funniest part though is when I’d give up on him trying to pleasure me (everything was terrible, the fingering was like someone who is in a rush to get the elevator and is jamming the button impatiently; the actual fucking was like.. off beat?? And he could NEVER LAST; he gave me head once but that was interesting I felt like he was trying to karate chop my clit with his tongue lmao I was like please stop omg) I was like fine ok just lie down and I will give you head and we can get this over with.. And when I gave him head for the first time he did not moan or anything he would just say: Mamma Mia!!; and FUCKING HELL it would kill the mood but also I couldn’t concentrate cause I’d be fucking laughing just choking on him laughing like I could NOT. 

-- End sex detail mention lol 

Anyway I am always wary of sex with Mars in Aries people but this experience is going to make me avoid them and have trust issues haha. Anyway I got a lovely free vacation in a beautiful region with incredible food. His friends were nice though my Italian is really terrible and nonexistent (omg also speaking about communication, he forgot most of his english so it was a challenge speaking to him haha). We were both wild as hell to do this even though we didn’t really know each other but whatever that’s the Scorpio in Venus. And in a perfect Scorpio fashion we may never see each other ever again because he may not return to London, I mean we pretty much fell out of infatuation with each other cause of the terrible sex chemistry and the only reason I have to return to that region of Italy is to see my witch friend there but there is a chance she is going to move to London again and she lives in a different city from him lol. 

So yeah I have been quiet over here but this is my current life. If you want to look at the gallery I am working on it’s in it’s rough draft form but you can find it here! 

https://www.artsteps.com/view/5f4946b290389d2f7d705e86

[honeyxmonkey]

Variangst for your Saturday Variangst needs

Fire

A loud boom shook the castle. Eugene and the guards outside looked at eachother. They didn't even need to ask what happened. They already knew. Varian.

Eugene and the guards ran inside and down to Varian's lab to find smoke billowing through the doorway. The actual door had been blown off it's hinges. The captain wasted no time and descended into the smoke to find his brother.

The fire raged hot and bright. Smoke filled his lungs but he kept going. He needed to find Varian.

He saw the boy slumped against the wall and he was slowly trying to move.

"Varian! Stay there! I'm coming to you!" Eugene yelled over the sound of the roaring fire. If Varian heard him he didn't show it.

Finally he got to him. Eugene knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. Varian looked up at him, albeit a bit groggily. He must've hit his head on the wall because there was blood matting his hair and trickling down his forehead.

"Eugene?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me. Can you walk?"

Varian nodded and Eugene helped him to stand. Once both were near enough to the entrance, the rest of the guards helped them both the rest of the way.

Both of them were coughing. Eugene was a little light headed from the smoke but other than that he was fine. Varian, on the other hand looked awful.

Now that he could see the kid clearly, he noticed the blood dripping from his leg.

Eugene wordlessly rolled up his pant leg and resisted the urge to throw up at he he saw.

A deep gash went about six inches up his leg. There was so much blood that he almost didn't notice how bone was showing because of how deep it was.

Eugene gently touched the wound but pulled back when Varian hissed in pain.

"Alright... just... just hold on." He looked at his troops. "One of you go get the doctor, I need someone else to get Rapunzel."

They nodded and went off. Eugene took a deep breath and put a hand on Varian's shoulder. "Hey, don't pass out. I need you to stay awake."

Varian shook himself awake. "I'mjst really tired." His words slurred together as he slumped further against the wall.

"I know but you can't fall asleep. You probably have a concussion." Eugene wasted no time in picking up the kid and making his way to the infirmary. He couldn't help but think of how many times he'd found Varian there over the past few weeks. The countless burns, cuts, and sprains that were still healing could never compare to this. "Why don't you tell me about what you were working on."

Varian blinked a few times before Eugene's question registered. "Mmm... cant member." He leaned his head into Eugene's chest. "Need... sleep..."

"No!" Eugene jostled him awake. He felt guilt sting in his chest when Varian let out a cry of pain. "You can't fall asleep kid. Please, just stay awake."

Varian started to cough again. Each jolt shot more pain up his leg.

"I'll try..." His vision blurred for a second and nausea hit him like a wave. He groaned and put a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up.

"Varian?" Eugene looked at him, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Varian managed a small shake of his head.

"Okay." Eugene tried not to panic. "It's going to be okay."

When they finally reached the infirmary the doctor was not exactly surprised to see them. He was obviously concerned by Varian's condition but he wasn't surprised it was Varian.

"Another lab accident?"

Varian managed a weak smile. "Yeah. You know me. Can't stay out of trouble."

The doctor had Eugene lay him on one of the beds.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." One of the nurses started leading him out of the room.

"No, please. Please, I want to stay with him."

The doctor nodded and the nurse backed off.

Eugene sat by Varian's bed as the doctor worked. Neither of them talked and Varian slowly started to lose conciousness.

Rapunzel got to the infirmary without a moment to spare but the nurse refused to let her in.

"I'm sorry your majesty but I cannot let you in yet. The doctor still needs time to treat the boy's injuries."

Rapunzel waited for almost half an hour. Then Eugene beckoned for her to come in and when she saw Varian she almost cried. He was sleeping and he looked peaceful but there was a bandage wrapped around his head and his leg had been cleaned and stitched up but the sight was still sickening.

"What happened to him?"

Eugene once again took his seat next to his brother. "I'm not sure. There was a fire in his lab. Sunshine, it could've been worse."

Rapunzel turned to the doctor who was looking over his notes and looking concerned.

"Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor sighed and put down his notes. "To be quite honest I'm going to have to tell you the best before I tell you the worst. He does have a concussion. Most likely sustained during the initial explosion when he hit his head on the wall. " He took on an expression of concern. "Now for the bad news. There is the... likely possibility for his wound to become infected." He gestured to Varian's leg. "In which case we would have no other option than to amputate. Let's pray that doesn't happen."

Rapunzel put a hand over her mouth and fought back tears. Why did things like this always happen to Varian?

"He's strong, your highness. If worst come to worst he has an extremely high chance of surviving the procedure." The doctor smiled sadly and looked at the young alchemist. "This isn't the first time I've patched him up after one of these lab accidents."

Rapunzel nodded and silently sat on the other side of his bed and waited for him to wake up.

*****

Gotta love the Variangst. Listen, I'm literally in love with Team Awesome and I'm not ashamed that's all I ever write.

[lunarthedragon]

Bards are Knives and Arrows, Not Sunshine and Daises part 2

Hope you enjoy my word vomit!

Read on Ao3: here

Jaskier didn’t have an exact plan for travelling with Geralt of Rivia. He had kind of leapt into this thing feet first, hoping to land safely at the bottom with some new, fantastical experiences under his belt. Every other concern, every other problem or difficulty, was pushed to the side to be dealt with later.

He didn’t necessarily regret it, he had never been more excited in his life, but it certainly didn’t take him long to notice the flaws in his “plan.”

There were so many ways Jaskier was not prepared for such an adventure. His clothes, for one. Bright, colorful outfits best suited for performances and courts didn’t mix well with unbridled nature. Jaskier had already mourned one of his favorite doublets after the sleeve had been torn on a branch while Geralt had just kept moving ahead with Roach, ignoring him.

And don’t even get Jaskier started on the shoes. He kind of expected that one, since his feet had been killing him while just walking around during their first adventure, but Jaskier didn’t really have many options to change into.

It wasn’t that Bards didn’t know how to be prepared, it was that they rarely needed to travel as hard or incessantly as a Witcher. Bards were flashy to distract from their bullshit, they stuck to highly populated areas and parties. They didn’t really DO wilderness.

Not to say Jaskier didn’t have a few things. He did, at least, have a spare change of clothes that he used for stealth. A more modest, comfortable, quiet outfit dyed all black and grey, with shoes – also not fit for hiking but they were silent and didn’t hurt Jaskier’s feet when he had to crouch somewhere, unmoving, for a few hours – and a dark brown cloak.

It was the drabbest thing Jaskier owned and, judging by Geralt’s furrowed brows when Jaskier had put it on the first time, it likely didn’t really look like “him.”

“Yes, yes, make fun of me all you like,” Jaskier had waved Geralt off as the larger man set up a fire, “I despise the look, but at least I can catch food like this, yes?”

“How practical of you,” Geralt rumbles, half to himself, but Jaskier jumps at the chance to hear his new travel companion speak again.

“Contrary to general belief, I am actually capable of thinking ahead sometimes,” Jaskier smiles, hoping to earn a chuckle or snort, but Geralt just stares at him until he sighs and heads off.

Jaskier returns with a few hares for dinner, holding them at a slight distance from his body by their back legs. Geralt gives him an long, unhappy look when Jaskier hurriedly drops off the corpses, wiping off his hands frantically afterwards, but then hums in surprise as he goes about skinning the creatures.

“What? What is it?” Jaskier looks over, concerned he’d done something wrong. He’d hunted the animals like he would have any other day and, while he knew in theory how to prepare a meal after that, he really, really didn’t want to. Was that really such a problem for Geralt?

“You shot them in the eyes. All of them,” the Witcher eventually observes, looking up at Jaskier with a thoughtful and slightly suspicious tilt of his brows.

“Well… yes?” Jaskier’s own brows furrow, confused, laying out his brown cloak so he can sit on it. He didn’t have a bedroll, unfortunately. He’d need to buy one when they next went through a town. “Doesn’t damage the parts of the body we actually want.”

Geralt hums, that deep “hmm” he seems so fond of, and goes back to prepping their food. It makes Jaskier sit up a little straighter, assuming the lack of response is a negative thing.

“What? Did you think I was lying about my capabilities? I’ll have you know—”

“I don’t care,” Geralt cuts him off, focused entirely on skinning the hares, and Jaskier leans back to pout at him, rather insulted.

“Very well. Then, with this moment of peace, perhaps you’d be willing to tell me about some of your previous hunts? Any noteworthy moments? What monster was the most daunting?” Jaskier attempts to move on, but Geralt doesn’t even grunt this time, completely ignoring the Bard. “Okay… Why not tell me about Witcher life? Where do you train? For how long? What weapons can you use?”

Still no answer.

Jaskier’s forced smile drops and he’s back to pouting. Fine then. If Geralt didn’t want to talk then Jaskier could find something else to entertain himself with.

He pulls out his lute, bow and arrows stashed away once more, and begins to pluck at the strings, humming and meandering through a nameless tune.

He ignores Geralt’s glares as the evening goes on.

+++

One of a Bard’s most powerful weapons is their words.

After that it is their connections.

The great thing about being part of a Bardic Society meant connections were readily shared amongst its members. In most major cities, and a few remote villages, there were a few, choice individuals or organizations that a Bard could trust and go to as needed.

Merchants. Blacksmiths. Fences. Gangs. Informants. So on and so forth.

Individual Bards also tended to build up their own connections, too, whenever they went off on their own, like Jaskier was doing. Issue with that, however, was that Jaskier wasn’t really focusing on his Bard work. There weren’t that many connections some unknown minstrel could make, after all…

That wasn’t to say Jaskier hadn’t, though. He’d been travelling for some time before he joined Geralt on his journeys. There were a few people who knew his face on friendly terms. Far more who knew his face on… less than friendly terms.

Only one of those friendly people actually knew he was a Bard, though.

Serafina Gorecki was a blacksmith. When Jaskier had met her, she was still under the tutelage and control of her father, who had regularly attempted to put her down despite her work being far superior.

Long story short, Jaskier had been fleeing from a party-turned-massacre. Technically speaking, he had been the one to set the whole chaos into motion, quietly exchanging some information about a cheating countess, an overzealous alchemist, and a cat. It was a very… strange story, but his buyer, a noble at said party, had seemed pleased by it.

Then proceeded to begin ordering killings and Jaskier had figured it was time he stepped out.

He fled and jumped through the first, dark open window he saw in the city, which just so happened to be the Gorecki Smithy, where Serafina had been up late working.

Ever since, with Serafina covering for Jaskier’s escape and Jaskier purchasing some of her exquisite knives – some of the best knives Jaskier had ever seen outside of Oxenfurt – the two of them had remained in friendly correspondence, leaning on each other when necessary.

Jaskier isn’t expecting to run into her during a pit stop in some no-name village only a month after he’d begun travelling with Geralt.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? The Laughing Fox himself!” Serafina greets Jaskier as he’s looking through a merchant’s meager offerings. He still needs a damn bedroll. Plus significantly better shoes.

Jaskier abandons his search with a smile, greeting the burly woman with a tight hug. Serafina had always been a strong woman, body built like a mountain, and she could likely bench press Jaskier if given the chance.

She could probably bench press Geralt, actually, if he didn’t pull his blades on her…

She’s all grins as they separate, her skin tan from the forge’s fires, soot smeared everywhere, and her short, red hair is messy and spiky. She looks good, finally away from her father, travelling the world to learn more about her trade.

They talk for a while. Serafina tells that she had been passing through this village of no renown and had been commissioned to help fortify some of their houses. Jaskier tells about his journey to the world’s edge and how he now travels with the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia.

“The Butcher of Blaviken?” Serafina questions and Jaskier, despite himself, feels his hackles rise.

“He’s no butcher. He’s a good man. I’ve even written a song for his marvelous deeds.”

“That poor man.”

Jaskier gives the grinning woman a bland look, knowing she was aiming to get a rise out of him and very pointedly not giving it to her.

“You’ll be safe? I can’t imagine you fighting monsters,” Serafina eventually asks as they find themselves walking into the village’s forge where she’s set up temporary shop.

“Oh, I don’t intend to. I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Jaskier smiles charmingly.

“You’re a mess is what you are. What are you even wearing? Trudging around the wilderness like a damn peacock.” Serafina is still grinning as she digs around in her things before finding a decent pair of boots that look like they might be Jaskier’s size. They’re definitely too small for Serafina.

“Where’d you get those?” Jaskier asks, but takes the offered boots anyway.

“Assistant a few towns back. Played around with my gear and got his head crushed by one of my war hammers.”

“That’s awful!” Jaskier exclaims, nearly dropping the boots.

Serafina just shrugs. “I mean… the war hammers sold really well afterwards since everybody knew that they worked.”

Jaskier gives the woman a flabbergasted stare. “You’re awful,” he eventually settles on, because as much as he loved to talk, sometimes only a few words were enough to get across his thoughts.

“Yeah, probably,” Serafina shrugs again, then jabs a thumb back at the forge. It is remarkably hot in here and Jaskier wonders how she isn’t melting. “You need some new gear?”

“Do you still give discounts to your favorite minstrel?” Jaskier smirks as he begins taking stock of his weapons and what he might need.

“Oh, is Valdo Marx in town?” Serafina smirks.

At Jaskier’s insulted shriek and his gobsmacked expression, the woman begins to cackle loudly, throwing her head back as Jaskier fumbles for the right words. “That is… LOW! Even for you, Serafina Gorecki! How could you even insinuate—The gall, woman—I mean really!”

Jaskier does get a discount in the end. He gets a few more throwing knives – it never hurts to have spares – his bow is checked, and while Jaskier is perfectly capable of making wooden arrows in a pinch, it is nice to get ahold of some proper, weighted, metal tipped arrows again. His quiver is nearly full with them, and it makes him stop to think.

“’Fina, my dear,” Jaskier hums and Serafina snorts.

“Yes, Jask, my darling?” she replies with an eye roll.

“Have you ever worked with silver before?”

Serafina arches a curious brow as Jaskier rolls one of his new arrows between his fingers, thoughtful. When the two look at each other once more, however, there is an excited spark in both of their eyes and Serafina hardly hesitates to get to work.

When even more arrows sit in Jaskier’s quiver, with silver heads and red fletching instead of Jaskier’s usual blue, and a few, new silver knives sit hidden on his person, the Bard grins at the woman.

“I could write such a ballad about your magnificence, dear Serafina.”

“You could,” the woman nods, “And I could punch you in your face.”

“Well, we shouldn’t always do what we can JUST because we can,” Jaskier hums, not missing a beat, and the two share a few more laughs before Jaskier is slipping away, in search of his travel companion, a skip in his step.

+++

Geralt does not like the minstrel. “Jaskier” is his name and he doesn’t know the meaning of “silence.” Except, clearly he must, if he’s so successful with his hunting, so it’s really an active choice of the musician to talk Geralt’s ear off every chance they get.

It only makes the Witcher dislike him more.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. Jaskier unceremoniously inserted himself into Geralt’s life in the most obnoxious of ways, he fills the silence Geralt once found comfort in, and he gives the Witcher one more thing he has to worry about everywhere he goes.

Humans are fragile and demanding, they shouldn’t be travelling with a Witcher. Geralt attempts to prove that to the minstrel – he pushes them faster than usual, wakes them at ungodly hours, and refuses to allow Jaskier to tag along for any of his contracts – but none of it deters the man. He complains, sure, but he sticks through it stubbornly.

It’s respectable, if remarkably stupid.

Eventually, though, even the minstrel’s stubborn streak will fade and he will leave. He will get over this starry-eyed excitement, see the situation for what it is, and flee as quickly as possible.

It always happens. Jaskier’s response is just more delayed than most.

So, Geralt will wait him out. He won’t be happy about it, having to be so aware of the human and his limitations, even when he’s pushing them, but he has suffered through worse.

“You smell like soot,” the Witcher says when the minstrel rejoins him after returning from his shopping. He doesn’t have a new bedroll, but he’s wearing new boots, Geralt notes. Hopefully that means he’ll stop whining about his feet.

“Ran into an old friend,” Jaskier replies brightly. That seemed to be a theme for the human. He was always bright. “She’s a blacksmith, best on the Continent, and she was kind enough to fashion me with proper arrows and knives. I think I’ll stick with my wooden arrows for hunting, save the metal ones, but it is nice to have them again.”

That was another thing about the minstrel. He wasn’t what Geralt would have expected from a sheltered entertainer. He wasn’t rough or strong – far from it – but he had skill of some sort.

Geralt thinks the bow and arrows might not have raised any questions had it just been them. He didn’t know Jaskier’s past, didn’t care to learn, but there were plenty of humans of many walks of life that used the weapon for hunting or fending off wild animals. And, honestly, the minstrel was clearly a good shot. Every animal he brought back for Geralt to prep was shot in such a way it hardly damaged the meat.

But the KNIVES.

Worrying mothers aside, why would a minstrel need SO MANY knives? All hidden away on his extravagant outfits, tucked away in places that not even Geralt could easily spot unless he was really looking. That wasn’t a normal thing for any human to do, let alone some random, obnoxious performer.

“Oh! She was also kind enough to give me her old assistant’s boots! How nice of her, don’t you think? Yes? Of course,” Jaskier is still talking. He’s begun asking Geralt questions and answering for him, carrying on full conversations with himself now that he’s realizes Geralt has no intention to offer any input. “Poor sod met a fairly untimely end. Crushed by a falling war hammer. Tragic.”

Geralt takes a deep breath, looking skyward and wondering if he could just gag the minstrel. This information vomit was asinine and exhausting.

“Did you want to go and speak to her? I get a discount on account of being her very favorite minstrel and friend – she doesn’t have very many friends, you see – and I’m sure you could get something new and shiny for yourself? A new sword, perhaps? Weapons in general? Anything?”

“I doubt she works in silver,” Geralt grunts, beginning to turn away, prepared to go find out if the inn has any free rooms. Silver was a far more delicate metal than steel, which meant not all blacksmiths worked in it. Geralt doubted some random blacksmith out in ass-knows-where, and apparently a friend of a minstrel, knew the craft—

“Oh, she does,” Jaskier says brightly, and when Geralt looks back he’s slipped out a knife from somewhere around his hip. It has a ring at the end of the handle and he twirls it around on one of his fingers a few times, before catching it and showing it to Geralt.

It is definitely made of silver, Geralt can tell, but he can’t help but find himself momentarily distracted by the ease the minstrel twirls the knife around.

The human was a clutz, tripping over his own feet on the road, yet somehow wielded knives and bows like they were a dancer’s ribbons.

It was… respectable, Geralt supposes.

“I do not need her help,” the Witcher eventually grunts, once again turning towards the inn, and Jaskier scrambles to catch up, grace lost in the blink of an eye.

+++

Geralt doesn’t bring Jaskier on his hunts, no matter how much the minstrel begs, pleads, or whines. Their first “adventure” was a fluke and ended far better than he would have expected. Most hunts were no place for a human and Geralt had put his foot down.

“And how do you expect me to write epic ballads about your accomplishments, then?” Jaskier pouts as he sits, cross-legged, atop a bed in the tiny room they managed to secure in this town’s inn.

“I don’t,” Geralt growls, not looking up from where he was going over his potions. They’d been on the road longer than usual and were both pleased to have a bed to look forward to, even though Jaskier was far more vocal about it.

The town also, apparently, had a kikimora problem. They were near to swampy territory, so Geralt isn’t overly surprised, and he takes the job immediately. He’d been low on coin for some time now and needed the work.

With the contract decided and the room rented, Geralt had informed the minstrel he would, once again, be waiting behind. As usual, Jaskier wasn’t happy.

“Geralt, come on! I promise not to get in the way! I won’t be something else for you to worry about, I swear.”

Except Jaskier would be, no matter how much he promised he wouldn’t be.

“I may even be of help!” Jaskier continues, pulling his pack around into his lap as he begins to dig around in it, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he searches.

“Help…” Geralt repeats slowly, disbelievingly. He looks back at the minstrel with a raised brow, clearly not impressed. It makes Jaskier puff up defensively.

“Yes! Why do you think I had all of these made?” Jaskier snaps, scrambling to pull out his quiver. He pulls out two of his arrows, one with red fletching and the other with blue. “Silver arrows!” Jaskier exclaims, not waiting to allow Geralt to look properly at the metal tips of the arrows. “Steel and silver, just like your swords. Which meeeeeeans…”

Jasskier pauses, looking to Geralt expectantly, like he actually thinks the Witcher has any intention of filling in the blank. When the silence stretches on Jaskier sags, pouting and continuing on his own. “Which means… I can help!”

“You can’t.”

The minstrel splutters at the bluntness of it, eyes widening comically, before waving the two arrows still in his fingers at Geralt. “Yes, I can. I—”

“Majority of monsters I face have skin or fur or scales too thick for arrows to do any kind of damage,” Geralt finally snaps, eyes narrowing as his stare shifts into a proper glare. “You’ll only get in the way.”

Jaskier straightens up in response and Geralt waits to smell the familiar tang of fear in the air, but it never comes and a moment later Jaskier’s face is setting stubbornly.

“Everything has weak spots. Places an arrow can stick. Spots between plating or soft underbellies or, oh I don’t know, the eyes?” Jaskier argues right back. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to be backing down from this one. Not without a fight.

“These aren’t your rabbits or ducks, minstrel. You can’t wait for them to stop moving to possibly catch them where you want,” Geralt growls. Why couldn’t Jaskier just see how ridiculous he was being? Geralt didn’t invite him along and thus didn’t owe him. It was safer and easier on everyone if Jaskier just stayed behind.

“I’m fully aware they will be a moving target, thank you,” Jaskier huffs, insulted and defensive, his chest puffing out. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum. “I am still confident in my abilities to offer assistance. And I need to be able to see your hunts and adventures if I ever want to write any more ballads in your honor! Your recounting abilities leave a lot to be desired… And by ‘a lot’ I mean ‘you don’t tell me anything at all’.”

Geralt glares just a bit harder at the minstrel, his arms moving to cross over his chest. Still, there is no spike of fear from Jaskier, just a matching, annoying glare in return. Geralt might have taken a moment to think about that – that Jaskier was the first human in a very, very long time who wasn’t initially frightened by him, even if it would surely be short-lived – but he is too agitated at the moment to care.

“You’re not coming,” the Witcher eventually rumbles, voice final, and he sees Jaskier’s shoulders droop. The minstrel’s expression is still stubborn and upset, but his body language finally tells Geralt that he’s won.

“Fine, fine. I’ll do what I can to stay safe,” Jaskier grumbles, his head hanging and not looking at Geralt, clearly upset. Geralt doesn’t much care. He’d rather the human upset than in the way or dead.

He finishes prepping his weapons and gear, not taking much longer, before slipping out the inn door without a word. The sun has set and the kikimora will be active now. The moon isn’t full but it is fat enough to light Geralt’s view as he makes his way towards the swamp, ready to finish the contract, get paid, and move on.

+++

It isn’t always normal for the people hiring a Witcher to know exactly what kind of creature is troubling their towns or fields or families. Rumors and old wives’ tales tend to distort what people know about the monsters that roam their world.

The more beastly monsters, however, are usually quite easy to identify, even for a common man, and it’s a nice addition to Geralt’s hunts when he knows more about what he’s walking into ahead of time.

That doesn’t mean he has everything. Which is made abundantly clear the more he trudges through the swamp. He’s weaving carefully through the thin, scraggly trees, potions thrumming through his veins, and tracking kikimora marking along the environment. They seem excessive, but the monster has been an issue for a while now, so he jots it down as extended residence.

Except, the markings and trails are fresh. Gash marks in trees just recently left, all over the place. Hardly an abundance to assume nest activity, but more than there should be.

When it fully sets in that something is very, very wrong the kikimora is already on him. The spidery, ugly thing springs from a deeper section of the waters, flailing its limbs, and Geralt wastes no time getting to work. He hacks away at the limbs, getting rid of them so he can get in closer, when he hears loud, sudden movement behind him.

A second kikimora flings itself at him and he only has a split second to leap to the side, the two monsters crashing into each other and tumbling for a moment. All three of them – Witcher and beasts – right themselves at once, eying each other up, and Geralt realizes just how much of a hassle this is going to be.

Fuck.

He better get paid extra when he brings back two, fucking kikimora heads.

Or, well, if he does come back. He doesn’t get very many hits in after that, having to dance out of every swipe of scythe-tipped limbs. He can’t overwhelm one of them without the other coming in and returning the favor. It’s setting his whole body on edge, the Cat and Tawny Owl potions in his system making his adrenaline spike more than usual and constant dodging around hardly helps him working it out.

If anything, it just makes him more and more frustrated, teeth gritting both in fury and pain as one of the claws manage to swipe a gash across his shoulder. It does, at the very least, put one of the spindly legs close enough for him to slash it nearly clean to the bone. The kikimora makes a high-pitched, screeching call of pain, lurching back, and it gives Geralt an opening to strike its friend, but now the monsters are REALLY angry.

Angry and injured. The only way the monsters could be any more dangerous was if it were mating season.

A poorly timed roll has Geralt just barely ducking under a swinging leg, but unable to dodge when a glob of venomous spit crashes into his back. Geralt bites his tongue to keep from crying out at the burning, almost acidic feel as the venom drips into the wound at his shoulder and touches the back of his neck where armor doesn’t cover.

The venom would kill a human, easily, but for a Witcher it burns like fire and causes his body to react far more violently against his potions. He can almost feel his immune system trying to work overtime, believing the potions to be a disease in need of eradicating. Perhaps not exactly accurate, but it is what it feels like.

He grits his teeth through it, though, and lashes out behind him, lodging his silver blade deep into the approaching kikimora’s shoulder. Close to the neck, but not close enough to kill, and the kikimora screeches far too close to Geralt’s face for comfort. It snaps at him with large teeth, but Geralt manages to keep it far enough at bay.

He’s more worried about the second one, circling behind him, looking to attack him while he’s preoccupied.

Geralt allows it to believe it has the upperhand.

When the second kikimora finally charges, Geralt gives a vicious twist of his sword and, in one motion, tears it free and swings it in a deadly arc, cleaving the charging kikimora’s face in half. It gives an agonizing screech, rearing back, before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Now for the other one, except it has recovered far quicker than planned and one, massive foreleg is swinging out and catching Geralt’s side, sending him flying and landing painfully in the mud. He attempts to roll away from his injured shoulder, but he can only do so much while airborne.

He snarls, furious and hurt and adrenaline still roaring in his ears, but when he reaches for his sword it isn’t in reach.

“Fuck!” Geralt curses aloud, not seeing where his silver blade has been thrown to, but he has little time to fret. The remaining kikimora is already charging, screeching furiously, and Geralt hurries to pull out his steel sword. It’s better than nothing, and while far less effective, he has had to resort to killing some beasts with his steel before.

He readies himself, prepared to dodge or parry, but just as the kikimora is getting closer, a sharp, whistling “fwip” flies by Geralt’s ear and the monster is suddenly skidding to a halt and rearing back, screeching in agony.

Geralt stills, black eyes widening in surprise as he very quickly tries to catalogue what has happened. The kikimora is swiping at its face and screeching, trying to rid itself of something, and then Geralt sees it.

An arrow. An arrow with red fletching. Sticking straight out of where one of the kikimora’s beady little eyes had once been.

Then, as the monster is shaking violently back and forth, another swift “fwip” and suddenly a second arrow is lodging itself in the kikimora’s other eye, blinding it completely.

The sound of something heavy spinning through the air is the only warning Geralt gets just before, with a wet splat, his silver sword lands in the mud in front of him, thrown from somewhere back in the trees.

“Told you I could hit a moving target!” a familiar voice calls and Geralt doesn’t have time to be upset or frustrated. He rushes forward, snatching up his silver blade as he moves, and, using both his own momentum and the monster’s flailing, lobs off the kikimora’s head.

He breathes heavily as, as abruptly as it started, the fight comes to an end and Geralt is left to wait out his potions and battle high. He should wait to allow his adrenaline to die down before he does anything else, he wants to be in control of his responses after all, but he can only wait so long.

“I told you to stay behind!” he finally snaps, chest still heaving as he swings around to glare at the trees where the arrows came from. Except… Geralt pauses, straightening up and tilting his head back and forth. He can see perfectly in the dark, yet somehow…

He can’t see Jaskier. He knows he’s there. He knows where he attacked from. So, how can he not see the annoying minstrel? He can faintly smell him, and even hear a human heartbeat out there, but he can’t pinpoint where.

“I agreed to do everything in my power to stay safe! Not to stay behind!” Jaskier calls back, but Geralt still can’t find his form.

“Staying behind WAS the safest option,” Geralt growls, taking a few steps forward, but still no luck.

“But, how could I be safe of mind, knowing you were out here, without me?” Jaskier singsongs and Geralt can almost hear his smug little smirk. “Besides! I remained out of the way, not for you to worry about, and I was even of assistance, shooting that ugly thing and tossing your sword back.”

There’s a rustle, a swift one, and then very suddenly Geralt has a face full of upside-down Jaskier. The Witcher doesn’t startle, but there is a definite twitch at the very abrupt entrance.

When he looks up he sees one of the low hanging branches on these trees, bent lower with how Jaskier dangles by one knee. The minstrel grins brightly and doesn’t stop, even when Geralt reaches out to grab him, flip him over, and set him on the ground, his branch flying back up once it is free of Jaskier’s weight.

“So!” Jaskier says brightly, not seemingly bothered that he’d just been so easily manhandled by the Witcher as he goes around towards the fallen kikimora. “I will, of course, be coming along on more of your hunts now, correct? I’ve proven my worth?”

Jaskier hesitates, scowling at the kikimora, then gagging at the stench. Still, he reaches down to yank out both of his silver arrows, examining them. One is beyond use, but the second could be recycled, so Jaskier returns it to his quiver.

He’s wearing the only sensible outfit he owns – the one Geralt sees him wear when he goes off to hunt for food – and he has his quiver hung at his hip and bow in hand.

“You’re not coming along,” Geralt says, nearly on instinct, still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

“Ah, well, you see, the thing is… I am,” Jaskier waves his bow around as he speaks, much like how he flails his hands, using the weapon to articulate his words. “I think you have seen that I am perfectly capable of offering minor backup as needed, staying out of the way, and getting everything I need for my next ballad.”

“No.” Geralt growls, voice rougher and meaner than usual, the potions still coursing through his system, burning more than usual thanks to the kikimora venom.

Jaskier seems unaffected, head swaying back and forth as he walks forward. “Mmmm… yes.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“Yessir.”

“No.”

“Listen, if you think I’m going to stop anytime soon, you are sadly mistaken,” Jaskier is finally right in front of the Witcher, smiling at him like he’s won something. “Just accept the inevitable and allow me to take a look at that cut of yours.”

“I’m fine,” Geralt snaps, steering away from Jaskier’s wandering hands. He just needs the current potions to dissipate before he can take Swallow to finish knitting up the wound.  The poison from the kikimora would be dealt with once he took the healing potion, too. It was uncomfortable now, but it wasn’t something to worry about.

“Great! So you won’t have any issue with me checking the cut anyway, since it’s sooooo fine,” Jaskier argues right back, looking stubborn again as he steps forward to get a proper look at the wound. “Now let’s see here,” Jaskier mumbles to himself, reaching out, but Geralt swiftly raises his sword to point it at the minstrel in warning.

Jaskier hardly reacts, his brows rising in surprise, before stepping away again and huffing. “You’re dreadfully stubborn, are you aware? And over nothing!” Jaskier grumps, Geralt lowering his blade again. He’d had no intention of actually doing harm to the human, nothing substantial, but the warning seems to have worked fine.

He didn’t need doting over. Especially not from a human musician who would likely only make things worse.

“At least put some alcohol on it or something,” Jaskier groans, eying the wound, and Geralt narrows his eyes at him.

“Alcohol…” he repeats, not sure what that has to do with anything.

“New discovery. Kills germs quite effectively and helps avoid infection! I hear it burns something fierce, though,” Jaskier chirps, smiling brightly, and Geralt stares at him a while longer, trying to understand.

He, the Witcher, who had to regularly keep up with medical advancements, had not known about something like alcohol killing germs… but this random, enigma of a minstrel had? What was going on?

“It won’t get infected,” Geralt eventually grunts, turning away and heading to pick up the second kikimora’s head. He begins tying ropes around it so as to carry it more easily.

“Uh… And, how do you know that? Do Witchers not get infections?” he hears Jaskier question, sounding dubious.

Geralt doesn’t answer immediately, finishing up tying the kikimora head, then standing and heading for the first, hacking off its head and pulling out more rope to do the same to it. “It’s not deep. Swallow will fix it,” he eventually mumbles. Behind him, Jaskier sloshes through the swamp water, heading over to inspect the decapitated kikimora’s body, poking at it with his bow.

“Swallow? What are you swallowing?” he asks and Geralt growls, growing more and more frustrated with every passing question.

“Potion,” he finally snaps, standing and turning to glare something vicious at the minstrel. “It is called a Swallow Potion.”

“Ohhhh,” Jaskier snaps his fingers, not even flinching at the Witcher’s furious gaze, “Swallow as in the bird! I see, I see. And this potion helps heal you? Why haven’t I heard of it before? Why aren’t you taking it now?”

Geralt growls and looks skyward at the dark sky, a few stars twinkling above them, and tries to stamp down the urge to just gag the minstrel. “It is deadly to humans,” he begins slowly, measuring himself to keep his mounting frustrations in check. “It is only slightly toxic to Witchers. I must pace them out.”

When he finally looks back down, his adrenaline-pumped body under enough control he’s certain he won’t strangle the minstrel, he finds said minstrel staring at him in clear shock.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘toxic’?” Jaskier questions, hands flapping around, his bow swinging with the motions. Geralt only grunts at him. “You’re drinking toxins?! What the hell?!”

“In controlled doses,” Geralt grunts, not seeing what the issue is.

“Wh-why would you… What… Geralt!” Jaskier makes an even larger, flailing motion with his arms, apparently hoping Geralt will magically understand why he’s so upset. He does not.

“They offer enhancements.”

“OH!” now Jaskier throws both arms outwards, voice rising in indignation. Why was this the thing that finally set the minstrel off? “I guess it’s okay, then! Since they offer enhancements! Seriously, Geralt? Don’t just accept things like that! Has anyone ever attempted to make safer variations? Anyone at all? Have you Witchers ever commissioned some alchemist or something to better these potions of yours so they aren’t – oh, I don’t know – poisoning you?!”

Geralt says nothing in the face of this tirade, just watching Jaskier flail around with an eyebrow arched, waiting for the human to calm down. Did any of this matter? He knew how to measure out his potions as needed, knew what to expect out of them. So, where was the problem?

Finally, Jaskier seems to calm down, but now his free hand is on his hip and the other is pointing his bow in Geralt’s direction. “Listen, you shouldn’t have to settle for these things just… because! The whole… marble-pale and black eyes thing is badass, but you should still take care of yourself more.”

Jaskier then moves to attempt to lift up one of the kikimora heads, probably thinking he can help bringing them back despite how he gags at the smell, but the weight tips him over and he goes tumbling into swamp water. Geralt… Geralt could have caught him – he was close enough and fast enough – but he suddenly felt very glued to his spot.

Somewhere in all the excitement and bickering and frustrations and questions, Geralt had forgotten what he currently looked like. The Cat potion still coursing through his veins, turning said veins and his eyes black as night… He was what mothers warned their children about. He was the monstrous Witcher, sending terror through men of all kinds.

He’d learned, early on, to show this state of being to as few people as possible. It terrified people, made them run, attack, or not pay him. It solidified people’s views that Witchers were no better than the monsters they killed.

And Geralt had forgotten about it.

Somehow, he’d gotten so wrapped up talking to Jaskier, trying to sort out what was so odd about this minstrel, he’d forgotten what he looked like. And Jaskier…

Jaskier hadn’t acted any different than he usually would. Geralt might have forgotten, but the entire time Jaskier had been jabbering to a pale, demon-eyed man like it was nothing. His heartrate hadn’t changed, he’d never jumped, and even when Geralt glared and growled there was never any smell of fear.

And now Jaskier was just dropping that piece of information, that he thought the look was “badass,” like it was nothing. Like they were just sitting in a tavern, eating and drinking, Jaskier babbling about nothing and everything.

Geralt gulps down a lump that forms in his throat, slowly coming back to the present to hear Jaskier loudly and colorfully complaining about the water and mud. The Witcher says nothing as he leans down to pick up both kikimora heads and makes his way back in the direction of town.

By the time he gets there his current potions will have worn off and he’ll have been able to take Swallow and everything will be fine.

Behind him, Jaskier follows, his usually faint, quiet footsteps loud with sloshing water and complaints. Perhaps it is the adrenaline or the night or the daze he’s still under from Jaskier’s comments, but Geralt thinks it wouldn’t be the worst option to allow the minstrel to tag along on a few more hunts in the future.

+++

Jaskier makes it his mission to learn how to make Witcher potions.

Well… more like a side mission, really, but he still approaches it with the same intensity and eagerness as he does his music.

He knows Geralt will never make a move to try and better the potions. The Witcher seems to live on a perpetual “if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it,” mentality, but Jaskier isn’t like that. Things can always be made better.

Especially potions that have pros that only JUST outweigh the cons.

Before Jaskier can begin searching for a method to bettering these potions, however, he must learn how to make them. Problem is, Geralt isn’t sharing. Less of a problem, though, is the Witcher will prep and make the potions right where they’re camping or in their inn room.

It takes time and observation, but Jaskier is good at that, as he memorizes the plants used, how they are prepared, and what the outcome should look and smell like.

The first time Jaskier hands over a Willow Potion for Geralt’s upcoming hunt – which Jaskier is allowed to come along with, now, so long as he dresses sensibly and carries his weapons – the Witcher looks like he’d just been gutted. Which is QUITE the face on Geralt.

“How did…?” but Geralt doesn’t seem to know how to finish.

“Oh, I watched you and memorized how to craft some of your potions,” Jaskier smiles, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ll need to know how if I have any intention of getting these perfected for you.”

Geralt stares at him for a shocked moment, before he’s shaking his head and opening his mouth, likely to deny Jaskier’s services. Jaskier cuts him off before he can.

“In addition, it will surely save you time and effort if you have a second person helping prepare your potions, right? Of course, it will!”

Geralt shakes his head again. “You don’t have t—”

“Well someone does!” Jaskier cuts him off again, and now his hands are on his hips and he’s setting his face into a displeased pout. “Someone needs to look after you, and seeing as you are intent on not doing it for yourself… Well…” He trails off, allowing Geralt to fill in the gaps.

The Witcher’s eyes narrow, suspicious, and Jaskier is growing tired of that look. “And you’re going to?” he asks in disbelief and Jaskier huffs.

“Might as well!” He flaps a hand at Geralt. “Believe it or not, I find myself rather invested in YOUR safety.”

Geralt says nothing to that. Instead, he looks away, scowling, then shoves the Willow Potion into his potions pouch and starts gathering up the remainder of his gear. It leaves Jaskier grinning, which causes Geralt to punch his arm on his way out of the inn.

So, Jaskier occasionally helps prepping potions after that. Geralt won’t teach him anything new, and if Jaskier messes up Geralt won’t tell him how, just throws out the concoction, but it’s something.

Now, all Jaskier needs is to find someone trustworthy and intelligent enough in alchemical practices to help him better these potions. Luckily, he already has a place in mind.

For every Society of Bards, there was a specialty. The Society of Foxes at Oxenfurt specializes in weaponry. The Society of the Mantis in Novigrad specializes in espionage and manipulation. The Society of Eels in Beauclair specializes in “bardic magic,” whatever that means. The Society of Panthers in Vizima specializes in stealth.

And the Society of Spiders in Cintra specializes in poisons. Specifically, they train relentlessly in alchemy of many kinds, but are known particularly for their poisons.

Jaskier didn’t know when he would next be near Cintra, but it would be his next goal for bettering these damn potions. He wasn’t in any, major rush, though.

No, instead he intended to chronicle and memorialize as much of the White Wolf’s heroic exploits for as long as he could. He was going to make people stop sneering and spitting at his Witcher if it was the last thing he did.

[jennifercrowart]

D&D Diary - The Yawning Rodent, 12

Refresher: Our adventurers Lugs (grung barbarian), Lurk (grung rogue), Aelia (tiefling cleric), and Valas (drow sorcerer) with tagalong Deku (ratfolk cleric) and rescued noble Chadley continued exploring the Sunless Citadel, defeating a fire snake and finding a small offering shrine with a statue of the red dragon Ashardalon, once worshipped by the resident cult. They found a bugbear guard on patrol, but captured her, and took her and all of the other goblin interns and bandits they'd scared into submission in the laboratory as prisoners. There are lots of arboretums around here, growing plants for experiment ingredients. Lugs also found a second fire snake, and fed it pet treats and a goblin corpse to try and befriend it.

As most of the party members were hurt and exhausted, they decided to travel back to the Rat's Nest, lying to Yusdrayl when they ran into her on the way to say that they think her stolen dragon wyrmling must be with Belak - the person who runs the lab and has been controlling the Goblin Gang from the shadows.

Sunless Citadel spoilers!

The party leaves the Sunless Citadel, passing through it easily now that it's been cleared of the hostile giant spiders and the Goblin Gang. By now, the way back to the Rat's Nest through the Underdark tunnels is pretty easy, and night is starting to fall outside.

Suddenly, they're attacked by twig blights, who camouflage in with the thick tree roots lining the tunnel walls and tear themselves out to attack. The prisoners and Chadley all scurry back, avoiding the danger. Lugs goes to rage, but hesitates, and in Grung, tells Lurk to ask Valas - the one ally in range of him - if it's ok that he uses his Storm Herald abilities and hits him with the area effect as well. Lurk just tells Valas, "Valas: incoming!" and gives a thumbs up back to Lugs. Lugs grins and gives a thumbs up to Valas, who, confusedly, sputters, "wait, what?" before Lugs rages and a wave of swamp water erupts at his feet. Valas gets hit by the strong, thick torrent of muddy water, while the nearby twig blight digs in its roots and shrugs off the damage.

The rest of the twig blights are defeated easily, especially when Aelia uses a big Fireball spell to start incinerating them. Deku recalls that the twig blights tend to only come out and attack at nighttime.

As the party and the prisoners calm down and continue on, Chadley starts rubbing his eyes. "Is there a hole to the surface open around here? I can see much more than I could the first time I was here - like, even past the torches."

Valas cringes inwardly, knowing that humans don't usually possess darkvision, but thinking that Chadley must have developed it as part of the transformation experiments Belak conducted on him. "You've probably just grown accustomed to it, after being down here for so long."

Chadley believes him, thinking that sounds about right.

After another hour or so of travel through the cave tunnels, they reach the Rat's Nest. Unlike the previous time when they arrived at night, all of the lights in the shops, church, and library are off, closed at this hour. Peach's pop-up tent shop is also gone.

Lurk tells the others that he's going to get the new enchanted Ring of the Flock that he ordered from Boak, the blacksmith, as he's eager to try it out before resting tonight. Deku tells him that the shop is closed for the night, but Lurk is insistent, and Deku shrugs and guesses that, since he'd already paid for the ring, maybe it'd be ok if he goes in and takes it. Valas just turns around and wordlessly leaves for the elevator to the tavern. Lurk takes out his lockpicking tools and sets to work on the door, but just before he's about to set all the pins, a contraption that resembles crocodile jaws pops out from either side of the lock and clamps down on his lockpick, snapping it. Lurk is incredulous that it broke his equipment, when suddenly an alarm bell starts loudly ringing from inside the shop.

Deku flinches, knowing that the alarm system travels back to the cave where he and his brother live, and will surely wake Boak up. As Boak is an armourer artificer, this was probably what was going to happen. He tells the party that he'll be off to go sleep at home while they stay at the tavern tonight, and that he has to go and sheepishly explain to Boak what happened to his shop.

The party goes up the elevator to the Yawning Rodent tavern, where Valas is already waiting for them at the bar with a look on his face that's reminiscent of a disappointed parent. The tavern restaurant has passed rush hour for the night, but there's still a few full tables of travellers finishing off their drinks.

After another two elevator loads, the goblin prisoners - including Grimwarg the bugbear - come up to the tavern as well, starting to talk amongst themselves about how nice the Rat's Nest is. Beni, bartending tonight, cocks his eyebrow and looks back and forth between the adventurers and the large group of 11 goblinoids tied together with ropes. The party tells him that they're bandits of the Goblin Gang in the Sunless Citadel, and they've brought them here to release them on the surface as long as they promise to not go back to a life of crime. While Beni is, at first, hesitant about the situation, all of the goblins but Grimwarg are unhurt and would be fit to travel to the next city over for jobs if they wanted to. For now, they can all sleep in the basic rooms of the Yawning Rodent, especially since the party gave them each 5g to start them off. The goblins awkwardly and sheepishly thank Beni, and shuffle onto the elevator to go up to their rooms once they're untied. Grimwarg does the same, but stays silent and unreadable.

Meanwhile, Lurk approaches the bar and asks for a glass of water in the crystal goblet he took from Calcryx's trophy room. Lugs sits on one of the stools and, with a big and relieved sigh, un-tenses himself and just starts bleeding all over the furniture and the floor from all of the wounds he'd sustained from earlier today. Aelia sighs, annoyed by the troublesome grung brothers, and pays Beni for a single room. She just goes up the elevator to begin changing into sleep clothes and drop her swampy dress off at the tavern's laundry station.

Without even batting an eye at Lugs, Beni just takes out a rag and starts cleaning the bloody counter, before calling out to the rest of the restaurant, "hey, Meepo! We've got a clean-up over here!"

"Yes, Mr Beni!" Weaving out from in-between the tables with arms full of stacked up dirty mugs is the familiar kobold, a delighted grin spreading over his face when he spots the adventurers. "Oh, you're all back already!! Huh, Lurk, were your eyes always purple?"

Lurk looks him straight in the eye and tells him that Aelia was killed in the Sunless Citadel. Meepo immediately gets distressed, tears welling up in his eyes. Valas quickly cuts him off, telling Meepo that she didn't die, and that Lurk is just lying. Angry, Meepo tells Lurk that he's terrible, and starts grumpily mopping up the blood around Lugs' stool.

Lurk takes out 50g - covering him and Lugs at 25g each - for the 100g four bedroom. As Aelia's already booked her own single room for the night, though, there's only three of them sharing it this time. Valas rolls his eyes, not going to cover the remaining 50g by himself, and hands Beni 33g for his 1/3 share. Eventually, Lurk gives in and pays 67g for himself and Lugs.

In the morning, the party meets up again with Deku in the tavern for breakfast. Grimwarg and the goblins are still sleeping in. With Baba working the morning shift at the bar, Lugs buys more packs of cider to take with him back to the Sunless Citadel, and Valas buys a healing potion.

Meepo, waiting tables for the breakfast rush, runs over to Aelia and gives her a big hug, relieved that she's still alive after all. He tells her that he thought about what she and the others told him about finding a less hurtful path in life, and has been helping out Candice at the church while Lulu takes care of Calcryx, and working a shift at the Yawning Rodent since they left him the previous morning.

The party heads back down the elevator to the Rat's Nest. Lurk immediately heads over to the blacksmith, with Lugs in tow. As soon as they arrive, Boak puts down his work tools and puts his hands on his hips, angry at Lurk for trying to break into his shop last night. Deku had told Boak that it had been Lurk trying to break in, once Boak had woken up from the security alarm in a panic.

Trying to appease him, Lurk piles on all the basic weaponry he took from the Goblin Gang onto the counter as a gift, and offers to sell Boak the gemstones and the gold sapphire ring he found in the Sunless Citadel. Boak doesn't forgive him, but reluctantly accepts the deal. He then fetches the newly-enchanted Ring of the Flock and the 20 Alchemist's Arrows Lurk had had on order.

The party then head to church of the Rat King to have Chadley seen to. Inside is Candice, reading a book while she's had nothing to do. She greets the adventurers warmly. When they say that they need Lulu's help with healing, Candice goes to grab her, as she doesn't know any of that magic herself, and Lulu has been looking after Calcryx. Before she goes, she does ask Lurk, "hey, did your eyes change?"

Lurk throws up his hands, incredulous. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" He hasn't seen a reflection of himself since gaining his psychic powers, which turned his large frog eyes from black to purple.

When Lulu arrives, she's not sure what kind of ailment is afflicting the human-turned-plant Chadley. She has him lay down on the cushioned floor so she can do a basic examination, and he explains how he broke his arm after falling out of the well shaft in the Sunless Citadel. However, when Lulu removes the sling, she finds that the arm isn't broken at all, and Chadley is equally surprised that it doesn't hurt anymore and moves fine. Valas wonders if Chadley had been lying to them just so they'd give him special treatment on the way out of the citadel, but he appears genuinely shocked and confused.

She tries to cast Remove Curse on him when Chadley says he can afford her healing magic services with his family's money, but it doesn't do anything. Chadley's dismayed that he's not cured, but Aelia, Valas, and Deku reassure him that it's good he's not cursed.

Lulu takes some holy water and sprinkles some over his head, but he winces and complains as it starts burning his scalp. The party grimaces, as reacting badly to holy water is usually not a good sign. Valas thinks about it, and thinks the reaction Chadley showed is similar to that of undead creatures in particular.

Chadley says that he at least has his family's private medical team that he can go to, and asks if there's a messaging service in the Rat's Nest or Yawning Rodent. The party recalls that one of Peach's magic services was casting the spell Sending, but her tent is gone for now. Deku also knows that the Yawning Rodent does get the postal service, and has messenger pigeons in case of emergencies.

Chadley also mentions that they need to rescue Bradley as well as his sister, and that Belak - the person who experimented on him, took McKennedeigh and Bradley, and had been controlling the Goblin Gang from the shadows - is an 'old man' - a human. When Valas asks who Bradley is, Chadley says that he thought he'd mentioned it to them before - that he and McKennedeigh hired two mercenaries to help them explore the Sunless Citadel: Bradley and Reignbow. Aelia and Valas recognise the name Reignbow immediately, and Aelia bluntly says that she has Reignbow's ring, taken from her corpse that they found at the giant spider mother's nest. Chadley grimaces, recalling that they'd begun exploring the citadel, but Reignbow had been killed and dragged off by the spider mother shortly before he, McKennedeigh, and Bradley had been captured by the Goblin Gang and Belak.

The group leaves Chadley with Lulu for now, as they plan on returning to the Sunless Citadel to find his sister.

As with the previous day, the party of adventurers has no trouble getting back to the Sunless Citadel through the few hours of Underdark tunnel travel, and through the first floor and down the well shaft of the large building. Yusdrayl greets them as normal, her guards still spread out through the citadel's first floor.

On the lower level, they move through the laboratory, but Valas doubles back and frowns. He calls back, "someone's been through here!", after noticing that some of the lab equipment on the tables have been moved around, and the notes on Chadley that the goblins were working on before Lurk killed them yesterday are now missing.

Lugs checks in on the fire snake he left in their arboretum, and pulls out some more pet treats he bought from Clara's general store. As he enters, the fire snake slowly emerges from their nest, with a huge lumpy shape in their stomach from their goblin meal the previous day. Not recognising that they must be full, Lugs crushes the pet treats in his hand and eagerly offers it to the snake again, who just stares at him.

As his companions go to continue down the hallway according to Grimwarg's directions to find Belak, Lugs opens the door wider and motions for the fire snake to follow him. Understanding his intent and getting used to his scent after he left his scrap of fabric there the day before, the fire snake slowly begins to follow him, staying 20-30 feet behind him as he trails behind the rest of the group.

It now becomes apparent that, when Lugs had asked Lurk to tell the rest of the party, "don't come in here, I'm feeding my snake" the day before, Lurk hadn't done so. Deku notices the fire snake and runs away in fright towards the front of the group, panicking because he's so small that the snake might think him good prey. Taking a better look, however, he realises that the snake's eaten a large meal recently, and shouldn't be hungry again for at least another week.

Aelia turns to Lurk and just says, "what the fuck."

Lurk sighs and rolls his eyes before walking back down the corridor to his brother, wanting to have a proper look at the fire snake "if it's going to be a part of my life from now on." From what he can tell, the fire snake is an elemental, and probably at least understands Ignan - the fire elemental dialect of Primordial. No one in the party knows how to speak it, though.

Continuing on, they pass by another arboretum, this one with the door missing off its hinges for some reason. Aelia spots at least one skeleton gardener inside, tending to the shrubbery. They briefly discuss if they should go and kill the creatures in there and torch the plants again, but decide to move on for now.

The last arboretum is the northern room that Grimwarg told them to go through. This one is empty of workers, and just has different saplings growing in the garden beds. Through the next door - the only door out of this room - they find a short corridor leading to what looks like a larger version of the small offering room they'd found yesterday. The statue of Ashardalon, the red dragon, is much larger, and a red light illuminating the room in front of it glows out from the eye sockets while a deep shadow is cast behind it.

Like before, there's a circular tile in the floor with Draconic writing on it, meant to be the place where the person making the offering would pray. Deku translates it as, "let the sorcerous power illuminate my spirit." The group turns to look at Valas, the one sorcerer in the group. Deku teaches him the Draconic words, and he stands on the tile and recites them, just as Lugs had the previous day when he received the boon of advantage on constitution checks. Similarly, Valas is quickly enveloped in a torrent of a harmless blue flame illusion jetting out of the tile, and he's granted advantage on charisma checks for the next 24 hours.

Lurk inspects the next door, and, like the arboretum doors and the door to this room, it's not trapped or locked, and looks like it's passed through regularly. Stepping inside, Deku finds that it's a ruined library, with shelving that's falling apart and books and scrolls scattered all over the floor as though from an earthquake. With a start, he realises that he still hasn't found his library book that the Goblin Gang stole from him, so he calls out to the others that he's going to take a look in here for it. He starts rummaging through the piles of papers and finds a few enchanting recipes they can give to Boak later (the Epistemological Recipe, the Lunacy Recipe, and the Shadow Recipe), as well as a scroll of Acid Arrow, a scroll of Scorching Ray, and a book written in Draconic called Future of the Ancients. Unfortunately, he doesn't find his book Cults Around The World.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party has stayed in the offering room, watching Lugs lure in his fire snake through the previous door. Lurk, having a poke-around, jumps up onto the Ashardalon statue's back, jovially acting like he's riding it as a mount. Suddenly, the inky black shadow behind the statue shivers and pulsates before stretching upwards from behind the dragon, a physical manifestation of a dark void towering silently over Lurk. Everyone's shocked, and Valas recognises it to be a dangerous undead monster simply known as a 'shadow'...

[thecurseoflife]

CHAPTER 11 - The Snuggly Duckling

They had been walking silently for hours. Varian was still leading the way, and the table stand was surprisingly holding up quite well. Not half of it had been consumed by fire yet. Camalia was following him, deep in her thoughts. She took out of one of her pocket the pages she wrote on while she was in crisis. It was messy, but readable. Camalia had a couple of blank pages left. She took out the burn shard she used to write and started filling a page. It was kind of hard while walking but she didn't care. The list was clear enough. It would do. Once she was satisfied, she put everything back in her pocket and... violently hit Varian's back.

-OW !

She fell on her butt and rubbed her nose. Why did he stop like that ? She looked over. The small gallery finally ended and seemed to join a way bigger one. It had timbers to hold it up and even some torches that weren't lit. It was just a bigger gallery. But the alchemist seemed frozen. Camalia got back up and landed a hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to get him back to reality.

-Varian, are you ok ?

He shook her hand of his shoulder and continued to move forward.

-Yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving.

Camalia looked hurt, but the alchemist couldn't see it. And even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. The music mage took a deep breath, yet again. It was going to be okay. She handled two giant black snakes for ten years, she should be able to deal with a moody teenager. Hopefully.

They took one of the torch on the wall and lighted it up with the table stand before leaving the burned wood where they stood.

And they resumed to silently following the path. The girl didn't want to bother Varian with this, but her feet were seriously starting to hurt. After all, being bare foot in a tunnel filled with pointy rocks and walking on them for hours wasn't really the best idea. Every steps was starting to feel like torture. She couldn't wait to be outside and to walk on sweet, soft grass. Or at least on a paved path. Anywhere, really than underground with an angry Varian, hurt feet and a dying torch.

After what felt like eternity to Camalia's poor feet, they finally saw a way out. They had to climb a ladder to get to it, but the light shining through the hatch wasn't lying.

Varian pushed the trapdoor. It was placed in the giant hole of a tree, in the middle of the forest. When they closed it after being out, they noticed it had a weird duckling painting on it. As soon as they were outside, Camalia jumped in a pool of water with a relieved scream. She fell on her back and started doing an angel in the green healthy grass while chuckling like an idiot. For the first time in forever, she was outside during daylight, without having to hide or go straight to somewhere. She felt free. Once her feet felt better, she happily ran around enjoying the feel of every kind of ground she met under her toes. When Varian saw that it might take a while to keep moving, and that they needed a break anyway, he sat on one of the root of the hole tree and waited, watching his totally former friend enjoying herself.

There was no friendship anymore, just two people trying to save a dad from a magical amber. It was the only reason he was with her anyway. His only purpose : freeing his dad. Those thoughts were swerling in the alchemist's head as he was calmly waiting and watching Camalia climbing a tree with a very discreet smile.

Moments later, when the music mage was finally tired out and plopped beside Varian, he had a pretty good idea what they should be doing next. He decided that it was worth it to expose his plan to her.

-First of all, we have to avoid frequently used roads, stay in the forests where we can easily hide and get to my house as fast as possible. Let's avoid any distractions, just... Getting to Old Corona.

-Get to your house ? Why ?

Varian slapped himself in his mind. With all that had been going on, he didn't even mention to Camalia what he wanted her to do. He looked straight in her eyes.

-I think you could be able to free my dad.

Camalia was caught off guard. She genuinely expected him to say something like "we need to hide". She opened her mouth but the information hadn't been completely registered yet. Resulting on a very stupid position. When she finally finished processing what just happened, she reacted.

-Okay, hum. What. Why should I be the one to be able to break the unbreakable amber ?

Varian rolled his eyes, a little bit annoyed she wasn't putting it together when it was so obvious.

-You're a powerful music mage, and if the princess' hair didn't work, you're my last chance on the magic side. But since the amber is technically magic too, I think science and alchemy can't work on it. So you're my last, last chance.

-I- Okay. Okay. Yeah okay, I-hum... I'll try. I hope it'll work but... Varian ? You have to prepare yourself in case it doesn't.

The boy got up, storm in his eyes.

-I know what to do. You don't have to tell me, thanks.

-I was just concerned-

-Well don't. Let's keep moving.

They walked on a rocky and unused path for several minutes, and yet again, silence was rulling. Camalia was getting tired of the sound of their steps, and even if the chip of birds and the wind in the trees were beautiful sounds, they were all obliterated by the girl's discomfort. She wanted to make things right between Varian and her. So, she tried to talk.

-So, uh... Where's Ruddiger, anyway ?

-I left him home to watch over Dad since he's obviously the only one I can trust.

He looked at her with anger, trying to make her feel even more guilty. Camalia was baffled by how much the alchemist wasn't letting this go.

-Oh, come on Varian ! Are you going to be mad at me forever ? We had a bonding moment at the prison ! Does that mean nothing to you ?!

Varian brutally stopped and turned around.

-I have all the right in the world to be upset. And if I am going to be mad at you forever, deal with it. I am not going to apologize for something I didn't do. The only reason you're here right now is because I need you in order to free my dad. There's nothing else. And believe me, if there was any other music mages around here, even a big and scary one, I would gladly trade him over you.

As Varian resumed to walking, Camalia didn't. His words hurted. They hurted bad. Those words and all of those before. And Captain words, and the snakes' and all of this pain and everything she had buried deep inside of her, all her feelings suddenly crawled up to the surface and the girl exploded.

-I was scared, ok ?! I was scared that if I told you everything, maybe the curse would pass on to you or something ! I never experienced ANY of this. Relationship, friendship, the-the world, the unspoken codes of behaving well, all of this is NEW. I have only read about those in books. You are my first friend, Varian, so of course I make mistakes, and I mess up bad. I was raised by BOOKS and murderous giant snakes, for the king's sake, OF COURSE I am disturbed and I make bad decisions ! I mean, come on, Witheria used to throw me against a WALL when I was diserespectful ! So yes, I am sorry, I am deeply sorry, and I totally fully understood that honesty is super important in friendship, but PLEASE, try to see things from my perspective !

The alchemist had stopped again, and was staring at Camalia with deep surprise. She tried to get rid of the tears running down her cheeks but she only made it more of a mess.

-The only other person that could be more or less perceived as a friend would be Captain ! And I can assure you he's not a great reference, especially when you're a prisonner. And should I remember to you, Varian, that ten years before knowing you I made the decision to lock myself up in jail for the rest of my life ! I didn't even learn that we weren't supposed to eat with the mouth open before I was like, nine years old ! I am the queen of bad decisions ! And I should really stop yelling at you, I am so sorry, I am not even in the place to be angry at you right now. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you, I can handle this. I-Sorry, I'll just, shut up and uh... Yeah.

Camalia was awkwardly standing there, trying to wipe out the droplets, and avoiding the boy's look. She had small hiccups and bright red cheeks. For once, she really looked like a lost, confused and scared child. For once, she looked like how she felt inside. Varian opened his mouth, a bit shook by the flow of words, but the music mage cut him.

-And if you want to know everything I know, if you want to know the truth, I'll tell you. With no lying, no nothing. Okay ?

He nodded silently as she walked past him. He could hear her sniff in front of him, and it made him really uncomfortable. He still knew he was right, but maybe he went too far this time. And it wasn't true after all. Between a scary and unknown powerful music mage and sweet and messed up Camalia, he would obviously pick the girl.

-Listen-

They both spoke at the same time. The two former friends looked at eachother with surprise and let out a small giggle.

-Go ahead, Camalia.

-Listen, Varian. I didn't mean to scream at you and I shouldn't have. It's just that... Everything is so... New and overwhelming. I am out and I-I can actually live for the first time in ten years, and I am free from the curse, and I... I am just really, really sorry for lying to you. I know I am repeating myself but I... I really am. I am just a terrible friend.

Varian took the time to organize his thoughts. He was about to speak when they both heard something. Some kind of muffled voices, near them. Camalia looked behind a tree and gasped. There was a tavern, with the exact same symbol than the one on the hatch. The music mage turned an excited look to Varian.

-We should go !

-What- No ! We said no distractions ! Straight to my house !

-Yeah, but I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're both tired, and there is a place that could give us rest and food just there ! It would be a shame to miss it. Plus, there's the duck thing, so they must be friendly to people that burst out of jail.

-I don't know, Camalia, this seems like a bad idea... At least we should hide our identities.

The girl had a smile ears to ears, happy to go to a place with other people and to finally merge. She looked around and took a black thing that was laying there. She got closer to Varian that took a step back.

-Wowowo, I thought you had some kind of melody for this !

-Nope !

She spread the black stuff in his head, hiding his hair strip. Satisfied, she took a step back to admire her work.

-Seriously ? I don't think it'll be enough.

Camalia frowned and put the boy's googles on his chest instead of his head before nodding knowingly. She proceed to put a single mole in her cheek and she was done. Varian let out a very long sigh.

-This is going to end badly.

The music mage shrugged it off and ran toward the tavern, her heart pounding in her chest. The alchemist had a bad feeling about all this, but he followed her anyway.

-Come on, Varian ! Hurry up !

She was waiting in front of the door for him, stomping her feet with impatience. Once he was finally there, she opened the door wide and stepped in. The tavern that was noisy a minute ago brutally fell silent. Everyone was staring at the two kids with suspicious looks. One of them, a giant with two reduced human skulls on his chest, got up and approached them. He detailed them carefully and pulled out a wanted poster with both of their faces on it.

-I knew this was a bad idea...

Varian just whispered that, and seeing how close the man was, he probably heard it. But he didn't seem to care and taped on the paper, making Varian jolt a little.

-Have you seen those two ?

The alchemist stared at the colossus with disbelief. Was he serious ? It was obviously them. He looked over the guy's shoulder, and everyone else in the tavern seemed to think the same thing.

-I- uh... We... We didn't...

Varian stuttered, incapable of making a coherent sentence.

-Nope, we haven't seen them. Sorry guys.

The man grunted in disappointment and went back to the table with his "pals". Varian slowly started to breath again. Beside him, Camalia was waving and smiling to all those terrifying criminals. That girl was definitely insane. No normal human being should have been able to keep this calm in this situation. She pulled the boy toward the counter, and he could see that everyone had lost interest in them.

They sat in the chairs and Camalia ordered two drinks while the alchemist was trying to relax, surrounded by all those people that obviously thought of nothing else but getting them to the guards. It was a terrible idea, they should have never entered here. But if they left now in a hurry, it would have just been more suspicious. Beside him, unaware of the swerling thought in her friend's head, Camalia was having the time of her life. She was looking up and down, side to side, eager to understand, to see and to know everything there is to know about this place. It was the very first public place she'd ever been too, and for her, it was amazing.

The drinks finally arrived and Varian drunk all of his at once. It had a weird taste, but it immediatly relaxed him. He had a small hiccup when he put his empty cup down. Camalia was taking it slow, the strange aroma not really bothering her. Even if each sip was making her feel a little odd. But she thought it was normal, so she wasn't really alarmed by it.

Very soon, they both were completely drunk. Neither of them had never took alcohol before, and it was really effective. Varian started to see something was off when his sight became blurry. He had a moment where he thought they'd been poisoned, before realising it wasn't going any further than having a blurry sight, small hiccups from time to time and difficulty to actually think things through.

He frowned, like he was in deep concentration, and turned to Camalia that was just finishing her drink.

-Camalia, I think... I think we've just drank alcohool.

The guitare girl giggled stupidly.

-Oh, we did ? So that's what it taste like... I don't know if I like it though.

-Camlaia, this is serious ! We, hum, we're on the run, and it's a -hic- terrible time to get drunk.

-Relaaaax, Varian, we're going to be okay, it'ssss just a lil' bit of alcohool, and nobody know we're on the run here ! Isss just fine.

Varian scrouched his nose and pouted. It was probably not okay, but he couldn't keep focused long enough to actually find a decent solution to this, so he just shrugged it off.

-Hey, Camlaie... Camalai... Cam... Wow, your name is really hard to say when we're drunk.

They both started to chuckle until laughing uncontrollably, one of them often trying to say the girl's name and failing hilariously. At that point, with two completely wasted teenager hurling in his tavern, the barman was starting to reconsider his life choices, especially the one of mindlessly handing them two full cup of strong liquor.

When they finally calmed down, to the relief of the poor tavernier, the alchemist could finally say carefully, very carefully, what he wa meaning to say.

-Why was one of the snakes calling you "little plant" ?

Camalia considered him for a moment.

-Really ? Of all the questions you could ask right now, THIS is the -hic- the one you chose ?

Varian shrugged. Oddly enough, it was the first one that popped into his mind. It was probably the ethanol that was making this thought emerge from all the others.

-Well, at first it was because of the color of my eyes, because their insanely green, y'know... But it was just an occasional thing, most of the time she was just calling me "dear" or something... Then I grew giant stuffs of grass alllll over the cell and suddenly, BAM ! It was the official nickname ! Like, really ? But you know they kind of also threw me against walls and stuffs so uh, I guess it was the least of my worries. But I had a moment when she first called me that. I was like : well, uh... well that's... that's surprising, you know ?

The boy snickered and faced the girl, a big smile on his face.

-Wait so that mean she started to call you that because you -hic- you smashed everything in jail with a... a ding ding of your guitare ?

-Yeeeep...

He laughed again, finding it hilarious for some reason. She chuckled softly and took a sip of the water the barman carefully put in front of them. She really missed that. They may be completely drunk, and in a terrible place with poor disguise, and Varian may still be mad at her, but she felt great. Not just because of the alcohol. She just... she felt great.

-Oh, oh, did she have a nickname for me ?

Camalia focused on her friend again, and she tried to remember if she did...

-Well... If I remember correctly -wich I probably don't- she called you "alchemy boy" like... hic, once.

He thought about it for a minute or so, before nodding, like he was approving it.

-I guess it's a better nickname than "sburben", heh.

Camalia chocked in her drink, not expecting the joke and they both laughed at the top of their lungs. They were having fun, as much as back when they were in jail and hanging out. Camalia shuffled Varian's hair in an affective way and smiled at him.

-What can I say, Ball, my curse was great at finding nicknames !

Varian suddenly stopped laughing and he looked at his friend with emotion, hardly expressing the punch in the stomach he just felt. But for once, it was a good feeling. He felt his eyes water a little but he refused to become that emotional over a single word. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, emotion drowning his words as effectively as if he was in deep sea. He concentrated, and after long enough, a sentence finally crossed the barrier of his lips.

-It's... been a while since you called me that.

Camalia grinned, warmth and affection in her eyes. She raised her glass as if to salute him and took a sip before answering.

-It's been a while since I could.

Another wave of emotions hit Varian and he took deep breaths. Everything was messy in his head, and he didn't really know where he was at that point. He leaned of the counter, his head in his hands. Camalia wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't in actual pain. She kept drinking the water with a small smile, looking around the tavern and waving at whoever crossed her eyes.

The alchemist could hardly think, between all those feelings and the alcohol slithering in his veins. But he wanted to speak, and to actually express what he really had in his heart. He wanted to talk.

-Listen, I want to forgive you but... You shouldn't have done that. Not at that moment, not when I was in that state. A friend wouldn't have done what you've done.

He looked up in her eyes, and she could see that for once he was sincere. Camalia didn't look hurt or anything. She was listenning. And it encourage him to open even more.

-But on the other hand, to be honest, I... kind of consider you as a "best friend" ? I-I guess ? Because you are still sticking around despite me being a jerk around you, and... and you still have my back, you... you don't give up on me, and I think that's what friends do. But I still feel awful behaving like that around you, but I-I still can't forgive you... I...I don't know, I'm just...

He hid his face in his hands and sighed. He felt lighter after speaking, but it felt like it wasn't enough. It felt like he couldn't stop the flow of words, after holding them back for so long. It felt like he could say his deepest secrets and not regret it. But he shouldn't, he had to keep quiet, to keep it to himself like he always did.

-I'm just so confused...

Camalia winced a little. To be honest, she wasn't really seeing clear either. And it was not a pun with the fact they are currently drunk. The guitare girl didn't really know where she was in life at that point. What she was supposed to do, to say, how she was supposed to act, to behave, to walk... But all of that she already expressed it earlier. She didn't know what to do of her life, but she knew she wanted Varian to be a part of it. Camalia really wanted the scientist to be friend with her again. With all that in mind, she was about to answer when Varian suddenly sat straight up and continued talking.

-And I just realised that I am making the mistakes I did with Rapunzel all over again ! We were friends, now we aren't because of something you did that hurted me, I am trying to use you to free my dad... What's next ? I try to kill you with a giant robot and I fail, and I'm put back in prison again ?

Suddenly it was as if all the weights in the world was put back on his shoulders, and tiredness spread on his face. It was like all of what he had done, all of his mistakes and guilt were back after Camalia chased them away months ago. It was as if he remembered what he never forgot.

-I'm... I am just a mess, Cam.

Varian was avoiding her look, staring at the wall across the tavern. The girl softly brushed his arm, making him look back up. She had a weak smile before taking his hand in hers. She hesitated, biting her lips as if it costed her to say it. She frowned and made up her mind, looking straight in her friend blue eyes.

-Well, I am a mess too. Maybe... maybe we could try to stop being messes together ?

Varian squeezed slightly her hand, and not really knowing how to answer, he just smiled gently. Camalia could see this whole situation was really overwhelming for both of them, so she decided to break the crushing mood. She put her arms around his neck and hugged a very confused alchemist. Suddenly they were back in the tavern, even if they never left, with all criminals, the dimed light and the alcohol in their veins. Out of nowhere, Camalia climbed the counter and pointed her guitare in the air as if it was a sword.

Does any of this really matter, after all ?

We have other thing to worry about, Ball.

And really, maybe you'll be the best friend I'll never be.

Varian chuckled and clapped along, even if it meant dragging all attention onto them. Well, if they had to go down, the least they could do is go down with style.

And we jump, and we spin, around and around,

Not worrying about what might come next

Because what use to open the wound

When really you're the best friend I'll never be

But Camalia was already in the song, spinning and jumping like she was saying, hoping down the counter to jump on a table, talking like a bard spreading the best ballad of the moment. All of the bad guys in the tavern raised their heads, listenning to the teen, most of them seemed really invested in the song, even to move their foot in rythm. Some were so much into it that they grabbed whatever they had under their hands and started to provide background to the song. Camalia was dancing, from table to table, singing, and pouring her emotions out, laughing and smiling like it was all that mattered.

Because you're smart

Because you're great

Because you never give up, no you never do

And because you're kind

Because you're the best thing that ever happened to me

People were dancing all around the tavern by now, playing whatever instruments they made or singing along, some just moving around. The alchemist jumped on the same table Camalia was on and sang the last line with her, grinning ear to ear.

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Happy to see that Varian was as much into the moment as her, Camalia danced with him on the table while the song carried on in the crowd, each client of the tavern passing the song to another.

I used to throw fires at people I didn't like

I used to scare people away because I was too buff

I used to do some mountain bike

I used to collect handcuffs

I used to sing but it was too deep

I used to make some tasty cakes

I used to sell stolen things a bit cheap

I used to dive in frozen lakes

The two teenagers jumped off the table and danced around before taking the song back.

I used to threaten kingdom and royalty

And I used to be in jail for all eternity

And in a strong chorus everyone was singing at the top of their lungs the two sentences, as if they will never sing again.

But none of this you ever cared,

Because you're the best friend I'll never be !

This time Varian took over, driven by the song, the piano someone finally started to use following his voice and steps as he danced through the tavern, incapable of stopping, the beat in his heart, the melody in his head, the lyrics in his mouth, and the great happiness in his soul.

Because you're sweet,

Because you can play some melodies,

Because you're curious about what is all around us

And because you're cool,

Because you're one of the best thing that ever happened to me

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Everyone was lead by the song, smiles were all over the place, laughter resonated from time to time, and everything was just joy and music. The beat, the piano, the chorus, the voices, the moves, the tavern, the people, the heat, the lights, the moment, everything was perfect. Everything was fine, so fine you could get lost and never emerge from it. But they would get out of there. They always did and always will.

And it's because you're strong

And passionnate

And considerate

And it's because you play like a god

And sing

And swing

And it's because you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me,

Yeah the greatest thing that ever happened to me

That's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

The song ended but nobody moved, heavy breathing being all you could hear for a couple of seconds, before someone snicker in a corner and the whole Snuggly Duckling exploded in laughter. Slaps on people's back you didn't know five minutes before were distributed and friendship that weren't even a thought formed. Varian and Camalia finally exited the happy tavern arm in arm, grinning and snorting, completely unnoticed and overlooked. It may be because of the song still beating in their ears, or the alcohol still flowing in their blood, but they were both really relaxed and glad to be right there, right now, with the right person.

The day was warm, with a gentle wind brushing the skin, avoiding any burn. The grass was fresh and the birds singing in the trees. After walking a while in the forest, away from the path and tavern, laughing and stumbling, Camalia and Varian plopped down in the grass, under a tree gracefully protecting them with it's shadow. They stayed like that a while, laying peacefully in the grass. A few insects passed by, wondering what those two humans were doing here, then going on with their day.

-Hey Varian, can you guess what a lycaedes melissa samuelis is ?

The alchemist felt his heart warm up and tears built up in his eyes. He brushed them away, smiling like a kid, and thinking about what she asked. His brain was really slowed down by the alcohol, and he couldn't keep focus on searching an answer. Distractly looking at a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, he shrugged and gave the first thing that came in his mind.

-I have no idea why, but it makes me think of a butterfly.

-Woah, no way, you guessed !

-Really ? You're not messing with me ?

-No no, I swear ! It's probably the only insect's name I remember but it's because there was such a pretty drawing of the butterfly in the book, it just stuck with me.

He snickered, proud of guessing the right thing. He started thinking about a question to ask his friend, when his train of thoughts stopped on something.

-Hey, Camli- Cam ?

The music mage was surprised by the serious tone of his voice, and her throat tighten. She feared she had taken a step too far and now he was mad at her again for some reason, and she would be all alone again. Thankfully, it was not what happened.

-Before we enter the duck tavern, you... you said you would actually tell me your real story if I wanted to. Well... I do.

Camalia took a moment to actually register the information and calm down from the rush of adrealin she just had. It was always difficult for her to talk about her past. No, it was the first time ever she would actually talk about it to anyone. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Varian, and, if he couldn't trust her... she knew she could trust him.

-Okay. So I don't remember anything before waking up in an alley in Corona. I was around 1 I think, so it's really blurry, but I do know that Witheria and Decaiera were with me. Not the giant scary snakes you saw, they were... two sweet and small white snakes that took care of me until I turned 4. That year, I can not forget. They were there, and then POOF ! Gone ! The day I turned 4. I never understood why that day, but I did understand where they went not long after that. Wait I-hum... That's not in the right order. Hold on, backing down.

Varian giggled as silently as possible, but he still got a tap on his head from an annoyed Camalia.

-So I turned 4, they were gone, I was all alone without a house or anything, with nothing but a guitare and a stolen shirt I used as a dress. I never had to worry about sleeping soundly or... or food, With' and Decaiera were always providing. But then, I had to think about those. I didn't want to steal at first, So I tried performing in the street so people would give me money and I could buy something. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well, until that guy I told you about came and wrecked my guitare on the ground. I got really scared that the horrible pain would go back if I tried playing and singing again for money, so I... I just stopped. But I still had to eat. So, after three days without eating, I stole something. It was just an apple I think. Anyway, I was really tired and weak, and the guards catched me really quickly. I went to court, and I was terrified. I was holding at my guitare like my life depended on it -which, heh, it does- in the middle of all those giants talking about what they should do with me. When one of them mentionned raising me and giving me a home., I got scared. Yeah, I uh... I forgot to mention -I am terrible at telling stories- that I had a crisis during the time I was starving myself.

The alchemist frowned and was about to ask a question then shut his mouth. He would wait until she's done opening up. It was for the better.

-I knew I was super dangerous, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. So I asked them to put me in a place where I couldn't. That's when Cap' spoke up. I went in prison, and imagine, going from a dirty alley, using the rain to shower to Corona's prison ? That was amazing for me ! I had a bed, and space, and a ceiling above my head. I felt safe for the first time in a year. I was so excited ! The king and queen accepted to let me stay there. I met Masha that day, she was the one to bath me and make me eat when I was a kid. So the years passed, I had a crisis every single years, sometime more, but never less. I was still happy with what I got, but at ten years old, it was starting to feel a bit... small. And lonely. Cap' often came by to talk or play with me, he was like a friend to me... But there always been a...a distance, you know ? Like I wasn't really part of his world. So, I tried to have friends in prison.

Camalia took a break there. She didn't really like to talk about how lonely and distressed she felt all the time back then. But she wanted to be completely honest to Varian. She just needed some time to get this right.

-Most of the times the baddies were just ignoring me, some used me to escape, and some were actually really nice to me, until they got out and forgot all about my existence. That was a fun part of my life. But most of the time, I was bored and alone. I knew I had a key to get out, but I was always terrified that it would be when I was outside the snakes would "possess" me or something. So I stayed in jail, reading an insane amount of books, playing with my guitare and doing some stupid stuffs whenever I could. Cap' often came down to yell at me because I exploded something or sang to loud. Oh, I remember I used to go in the castle, back when the curse wasn't as strong as today. I met a lot of people, and I think they liked me ! But never enough to go see me in prison. I never saw the king or queen again, don't really know why. And about the prisoners, there was that guy, Flynn Rider, that really stuck with me because he had the exact same name as my favourite book character ! He was also really nice to me whenever he came by. Which was a lot. It took him a while to actually remember my name, but once he did, he got it. He always waved at me whenever he passed by to go to his cell. Really nice guy. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen him in a while.

Varian was about to inform her of the wereabout of the book character, but he changed his mind once again at the last moment.

-Anyway, I grew up, and Cap' was spending less and less time with me, until he didn't come at all, except to be angry at me. I never understood why, but I shrugged it off, there wasn't much I could do. And then, YOU showed up ! I was so happy to see that there was someone my age in the cell right across the corridor ! Of course, at that time, you weren't really "in the mood". But I always hated to see people down and I really wanted to cheer you up. Blah blah blah, we became friends, gnagnagna, I lied to you because I was afraid, blah blah blah, you learned about the curse, got mad at me, we escaped, and HERE WE ARE !

Her voice faded away and the birds, wind, insects and soft brush took over what was their. The sounds mingled together in perfect harmony, the only melody they wanted to hear right now. The melody of nature. Varian had thousands questions, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out for Camalia's hand and hold it tight. The sun was warm, the shadow was cool, the tree was chanting, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, life was all around them and in their heart and soul. They silently contemplated everything.

Maybe it was already fine. FIRST / PREVIOUS