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lostloveletters · 2 months ago

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All You Have To Bring Is Your Love of Everything (John Egan x OC)

Summary: Don't recall what we were singin'/But I remember swingin'/With my hands caught in the curls of his hair (AO3 link)

Note: I got caught up listening to Married in Mount Airy by Nicole Dollanganger and this happened. Anyway, I really love Bucky and Holly and I enjoyed writing this a lot🖤

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Holly’s wedding dress spent almost four years hiding in a dust jacket, brought out into the light as pristine as the sunny Wednesday afternoon she bought it. Set her back a hundred dollars, then, but who could put a price tag on a lifetime of love? She supposed it ended up being a good investment in the long-run rather than a starry-eyed splurge, because she was just about the only woman she knew who wasn’t getting married in her Sunday best.

The billowy cream swallowed her body, her coppery hair almost pink in the soft light of her girlhood bedroom, a dewy-eyed pastry of a woman staring back at her from the full-length mirror on the wall. A weak sigh broke from between her dry lips when she glanced at her mother, who assured her the dress could be altered to accommodate the weight she lost since she left home and hadn’t quite managed to gain back yet—if it weren’t for that, her mother would’ve assumed she was pregnant with how quickly she and Bucky were getting married since arriving in DC less than two weeks prior.

She had let Stan see her in the dress, back then. Had to show off, hear him tell her how pretty and perfect she looked. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. Bad luck to let your fiance see you in the dress before getting to the altar. Bucky didn’t mind waiting, not when they stayed up half the night in her parents’ kitchen, poring over brightly illustrated brochures for hotels that promised newlywed bliss—swimming pools, heart-shaped beds, on-site entertainment. The hotel they settled on, nestled away in the Blue Ridge Mountains, offered quiet and seclusion and charged an extra $2 per night for weekends. The manager who answered the phone when Bucky called in the morning informed him that the place was booked out for the following two weeks, and rooms were going fast. Better to make a reservation than arrive without one and find no vacancies.

It left them with a little under a month to plan their wedding, and the list of people who couldn’t make it was longer than those who could. But Woody, her beloved best friend and maid-of-honor, would cut off her own arm to make it, with John Brady as her plus one. Gale’s RSVP had been written in Marge’s neat script, excitedly informing them they’d be in attendance. Bucky’s mother and sisters would be coming in from Wisconsin, which meant Holly would only be meeting her future in-laws the evening before she married into their family.

Every venue they called was regrettably booked up for even longer than the hotel had been. When they nearly decided to forget it and drag her parents along to the local courthouse, her father’s supervisor offered to let them use his house’s sprawling backyard in Arlington for the occasion if they ordered the wedding cake from his daughter-in-law, who was trying to get a bakery off the ground.

Her parents scrounged up tables and chairs for the guests, borrowing mismatched card tables and folding chairs from neighbors and relatives. Half of the decorations had been sitting in boxes for about as long as Holly’s dress had been in her closet. Having spent the better part of four years itching to decorate for her daughter’s wedding and absolutely taken with her future son-in-law, Cathy Dean took it upon herself to transform the unassuming backyard into a proper venue while they applied for their marriage license and Holly filed for a name change—Holly Dean Egan on her driver’s license, her social security card, her passport.

But wedding planning with Bucky was breezy otherwise, “I’d marry you on the side of the road,” he had said, and she knew he meant it despite the laughter in his voice, the corners of his eyes scrunching at his own joke. She almost couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him love her so much. Up until the day of the wedding, she expected some other shoe to drop, that she’d never get the happy ending she so desperately wanted, the one they deserved after everything.

The hazy evening with its peachy sky felt too much like a dream for her comfort, and when her father was supposed to walk her down the aisle, makeshift but nevertheless beautiful with her mother’s creative touch, she ran—her bouquet of Tiffany roses discarded on the ground as she bounded toward Bucky until he was within reach. She threw her arms around him, carding her fingers through his curls, her nose brushing one of the Oak Leaves on his collar. His soft reassurances drowned out the shocked and amused murmurs of the guests behind them.

With his steady hands on her waist, he pressed his lips against her forehead, holding her close until the officiant cleared his throat. Every vow, every promise they could have possibly given each other had already been said upon their reunion in England, and Holly couldn’t manage much more than “I do” through her tears when it was her turn to speak.

She hated crying, in general, but especially in front of other people. The pads of Bucky’s thumbs brushed her tears away before he kissed her, their first as a married couple, his lips soft against hers. She lifted a trembling hand to cradle his jaw, allowing herself to bask in his tenderness for a few more moments before pulling away to the gentle applause of their wedding guests.

The contingent of guests who’d been at Thorpe Abbotts with them were the life of the party—rowdy and excitable, as Holly and Bucky were among the first of them to get married and actually have a reception afterward. His mother covered half the cost of hiring a band for three hours, who were told by the best man that under no circumstances should they let the groom sing, but Bucky wouldn’t let himself be denied the pleasure on his wedding day, dedicating a warbled yet enthusiastic serenade to Holly, who blushed and giggled as if he were Frank Sinatra.

The two-tier strawberry shortcake towered over everything else on the head table when it was brought out—generous puffs of vanilla frosting and strawberries shaped into blossoming flowers that looked too beautiful to eat. Holly almost felt bad when Bucky cut into it, until he fed her a forkful of the spongy cake, its icing turned baby pink from the strawberry jam oozing between the layers.

Before she could wipe the excess frosting from her mouth, he leaned in for a kiss—passionate and sweet and so uniquely him, she’d know it with her eyes closed. His tongue brushed against her lips, so teasingly that she nearly retreated for decency until she remembered he was her husband—her husband, and she loved the way the mere whisper of the word felt, the promise it carried, till death do them part and even beyond it, she didn’t care how many people were watching them.

“I love you,” her voice a pleasant hum.

He kissed her again. “I love you too.”

As the sky grew darker, the paper lanterns her mother had hung from the branches of the big, shady trees lent a soft, starry glow to the reception as guests slowly filtered out, leaving Bucky and Holly with hugs and well-wishes. The band packed up around eight, signaling the end of the celebration for the dozen or so people who lingered.

They rushed inside to change out of their wedding attire before the drive, their suitcases already in her father’s car which he was letting them borrow for the week as a wedding gift. That much was specified on the invitations—no gifts—but a few guests took it upon themselves to slip them envelopes when they thought no one else was looking.

A little over two hours to the hotel, just outside of Shenandoah, if they didn’t stop. Bucky had scrawled the details of their reservation on the back of the brochure—who he’d spoken to, the length of their stay, what type of room they’d be staying in.

“Why’s this circled?” she asked. “The ‘Honeymoon Deluxe’?”

“That’s what I got us.”

Her eyes widened—an extra $20 on top of the cost of the hotel for the week. It included a dizzying list of offerings and amenities: a bottle of champagne, a chocolate-covered fruit platter, room service, and since the pool was closed for the season, two complimentary drinks for each of them in the cocktail lounge for every night of their stay.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did. You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“You were worth waiting for, every second.”

He reached over, intertwining their fingers, the gentle scrape of their wedding bands against each other as he brought her hand to his lips.

The car radio played low, and every now and then, when there was a lull in conversation, she’d look out the window at the blur of dark trees and road signs and let her mind wander.

‘I’ll have to ask my husband,’ she’d say when she returned home. Or even at the hotel, where she figured they’d be the most charming couple there, surely they’d get invited to have drinks, but ‘Me and my husband already have plans.’

My husband. My husband. My husband.

Bright red, neon-kissed letters proclaimed from the roadside, ‘Love Lives Here!’ as Bucky pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the lobby. A sign in the window indicated there was someone on duty behind the desk.

“Can I help you?”

Bucky smiled, squeezing Holly against his side, “Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. John Egan.”

Holly’s stomach flipped. It sounded so natural the way he said their names together, for her to be so intimately part of him.

The night manager looked down at the ledger in front of him, grunting in affirmation before sliding it across the counter to Bucky. “Sign here.”

Bucky and Holly exchanged a glance before he picked up the pen to sign his name next to the reservation.

“You want two sets of room keys?”

“Yes, please,” Holly said.

“There’s a fee if you lose ‘em.”

Bucky slid the ledger back over, his jaw clenched, giving his smile a disconcerting edge. “Then we won’t lose ‘em.” He took the keys and a matchbook. “Is there anything else?”

“Your room’s on the other side of the building, so you should move your car over there.”

“Thanks, have a good night.”

“Sure, you too.”

“Some hospitality,” Bucky mumbled when they got outside. He pulled a loose cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it with one of the matches, housed inside the small red matchbook with the hotel’s name in a heart. “I mean, not even a ‘congratulations’?”

“Maybe the daytime people are nicer,” she said.

“Don’t plan on finding out so soon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I’m gonna make sure you’re sick of the wallpaper before we even think about leaving that room.”

“Promise?”

“As your husband,” he said, emphasizing the word with a kiss, “I promise.”

“As your wife, I’d like to see the room now.”

The entrance on the other side of the hotel was next to the closed pool, which Holly glanced at it for a wistful moment while Bucky brought their suitcases inside. A quick elevator ride up, then a left down a dimly lit hallway that smelled of snuffed out cigarettes and fresh roses until they reached room 348.

“Here we are, heaven on earth,” he said with a wink.

He unlocked the door to reveal the room, as if they’d been transported to a perfumed, powder blue Neptune—save for a clear vase packed with pink roses on the table in the corner, next to a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and an empty ice bucket. On this planet of their own, an exorbitant cost for a corner of the universe, he lifted her off of her feet to set her on the edge of the bed, her weight creasing the neat satin bedspread.

Each article of clothing removed, each part of her body exposed to their honeymoon suite was welcomed with the caress of his fingertips, his mustache tickling ever so slightly as he brushed his lips against her bare skin, taking his time with her as if she wouldn’t go insane in the eternity he seemed to take before finally undressing himself.

She tugged at the pin holding up what was left of her bridal hairdo, throwing it aside with misplaced aggression.

‘Something wild,’ he had called her the first time he saw her curly, unstyled hair cascade over her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She didn’t deny it, not when she could finally feel her heart beating behind her rib cage again, brought back to life like a cheap imitation of Snow White the first time they made love.

She could have lived on the heat in his eyes as he stared her down, filling her with a lycanthropic urge to mark, to maim, to devour. His pulse thrummed beneath her tongue until she sank her teeth into his neck, soft like saltwater taffy in her sun-bleached summer memories—not hard enough to break skin, but to pull a syrupy moan from his throat that she could practically taste on her greedy lips.

Her need achingly difficult to ignore between her legs, she steadied herself, hands splayed across his chest as it rose and fell beneath her manicured nails, the ring that caught the low light in the room. Straddling his hips, she reached for his cock, stroking it until he begged for her with a whine that rang in her ears more sweetly than if the wedding bells had chimed for them.

Guiding him inside her, she trembled at how he filled her, close to too much but never enough. She wanted all of him, slow and deep and completely hers with an intensity that made it all flash behind her eyes as she rode him—pictured herself there so clearly, certain he’d give her rosy cheeks and a round belly and a big window to see powder blue out of while his hands squeezed her tender breasts on their way to her hips.

His thighs tensed against her own. He groaned her name in worship and warning before coming inside her, and the sight of his parted lips, his eyelids fluttering shut in ecstasy, made her guts twist at how deliciously obscene her husband could be. Her husband. Her breath caught in her throat as she came with a cry, throwing her head back, digging her nails into his chest because he was hers. All hers.

#john egan x oc #bucky egan x oc #john egan #bucky egan #masters of the air #mota #masters of the air x oc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: holly

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skekdris · 11 months ago

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Sketch of my OC/Species graciously brought to life by @aryeonos , The Arhulian. Needless to say, a huge, six-eyed, badger-centipede is both intimidating and hard to depict visually. Thanks to Ary again for assisting me with editing and proof reading. I don't think my story could have reached this level of polish if I did not have my love to bounce it off of. <3 Down below is a short story of them meeting the Amaranthine characters by @kwillow and @chocodile . They are in for a surprising house guest, that's for sure! Seems like a good way to get a feel for a character is to put them up against some "knowns" to see how the character would react in those circumstances. Acts as a good backdrop to flesh them out from there. As for right now, I'm still 'sculpting' out a lot of the Arhulian lore and worldbuilding. Initially the story was supposed to be with Hyden, Alex, and Theo, interacting with my Arhulian character 'Niadris' - but the way things were written out and flowed - it turned out to be Alex, Theo, and Ridge instead. I really wanted Hyden to meet them in this story, but then again, Hyden being deadass asleep while all the interesting stuff happens sounds like a pretty Hyden-y thing to do. Anyways, onto the story. It's somewhat of a long read, at ~7k Words. There's a lot of character interaction, so I hope stayed close to how the three would react in such a situation!

The Visitor

It was an afternoon in middle spring - which for this area of the continent meant that if the weather was good, temperatures would rise above freezing. The cool air with the humidity of melting snow seemed pleasantly mild compared to the long, bitter winters. In the study of a large manor on the outskirts of a town called Northcrest; an older, corpulent, Rabbit with a cracked gem embedded in his forehead was gripping the sides of his hair in frustration. "A person of my mind, MY intellect should have solved this weeks - no - months ago!" Hyden snarled to himself.

"You sure you aren't just stalling for time to enjoy your little 'vacation' here?" A Bat leaning in the doorway chided.

Hyden put on a despondent look. "I am trying, Ms. Solokov. Really, in earnest. The faster I can put an end to this disaster, the faster I can rebuild my oh-so woefully maligned reputation!" He said, crumpling up another paper of scribbled equations of arcane theory, tossing it into a waste basket.

Alex wanted to retort, but it would just be another fight, another exchange of barbs like all the other times before. She rolled her eyes, then stood up to wander out of the office. "Hopefully Ridge gets back soon. I want someone I can actually talk to." She thought, returning to her room to take stock of her things.

Hours later, as the sun was setting - casting the hillsides in an amber glow, a brawny teal Shark bundled in a heavy coat returned. In both of his arms were large crates, as well as canvas bags hooked around his arms. The door was opened by a short, roundish fancy Rat. "Oh, do make sure you remove your filthy boots at the entryway, I don't want any melting slush being tracked all over my estate." They sneered in their shrill voice.

"Yes, of course Theo. I wouldn't want to sully your pristine hardwood floors." Ridge responded dryly. Before the Rat could retort, the large Shark added. "Anyways, here's everything you had on your shopping list, these supplies should keep us stocked for a few weeks before another trip." Preemptively cutting off Theo again, Ridge blurted out: "Oh, and I trust 'ya have the perfect spot to put everything. I wouldn't want to scramble 'yer pantry, after all."

Theo scowled at the bulky outsider, their constant pokes and attempts at wit got under his skin. He knows Ridge was trying to get out of putting away the groceries after a long walk - but he was also right. "Yes, of course. As the sole keeper of this venerable estate, it is my duty to tend to all it's functions, right down to it's inventory." Theo stated. There would have been more words to shoot back, but Theo's duty as a host kept him from slipping any further into banter with his guest.

After dropping off the groceries for Theo to tend to, Ridge went off to search for alex. The manor contained more rooms and floors than any “house” he had ever set foot in. It irritated Ridge to no end that the little rich Rat insisted that the doors remain closed at all times, so he had to peek into half a dozen rooms and three closets before finding the reading room his friend was residing in. The weary Shark entered, flopping down on a chair; glad to be able to finally sit down on something soft and cushy after his trek. Alex smiled, welcoming him. "Your shopping trip took a long time Ridge, I know he asked you to grab a lot. Is everything alright?" The Bat queried.

Ridge sighed. "Yea... well maybe. Just some things 'goin on." He added before continuing. "I know you don't get out much since you 'gotta keep an eye on them two, so I figured I'd go around town and pick up a little news for ya. See what's happening. There's been talk of some strange things going on. Livestock vanishing, hunting season has been looking a little sparse, and strange tracks out in the snow. People said they look like ski pole marks, I dunno what to make of it, I figured you uh - you have gotten out more than I have, so you'd have an idea."

Alex frowned. "Well, unless we are dealing with a roaming pack of wolves with skis, it's probably another one of those magic, twisted monsters that appeared ever since this whole catastrophe began." Alex sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yet another thing I ought to give that fat Rabbit a piece of my mind about." She said, her voice lowering, oozing with contempt.

Ridge gave Alex a concerned look. "Yeah, well, if it was just that, that wouda have been one thing. But I saw those funny tracks near the path to the mansion... I don't have a good feeling about this."

Alex nodded. "I see. As much as I want to see that guiltless loaf ripped apart and eaten like cheap, stale bread by the very monsters he's created; we need him. I'll keep my eyes and ears out for anything strange." The following nights were uneasy for Alex. Each night, she'd take station and perch herself on one of the roofs accessible via a second story window, scanning the horizon for activity. Her large ears would catch whispers of something roaming in the distance, but she never could locate the source of the sound or what direction it was coming from. It always vanished just as she felt like she was homing in on her target.

She felt an uneasy tingle in her veins as her frustration mounted. If it was just wildlife, or even a monster, she surely should have spotted something by now. "Is anything really out there?" She thought to herself. After another uneventful evening watch, Alex swallowed her worries long enough to get some rest. She already has Hyden to keep watch over, she doesn't need whatever this is stealing her attention.

During the late evening; an hour past midnight, the manor was quiet, save for the crackle of the evening fireplace, as well as the stirring of but a single person; Theo. Between his duties as host, the sole caretaker for an entire servant-less manor, as well as his intense suspicion of everybody - save for his living historical idol Hyden - Theo was often the last person to go to bed, and the first to rise. This truncated sleep schedule, the bags under his eyes; they were merely the cost of business to keep everything in order. During the final rounds of his estate, a knock came from the door just as theo entered the foyer. The ears of the diminutive Rat twitched, his shoulders jerking at the sound of the knocking, which in the dead of night was as clear as his crystal wine glasses.

Tap tap tap. Another knock came. Theos' ears were not deceiving him. "Who in their right mind would visit at this godsforsaken hour?" Theo thought to themselves. This was abnormal. Tap tap tap. He rarely had visitors, ever. Let alone at a time like this. As he neared the door, he hesitated. The magical crystal embedded in his left hand felt strangely warm, and his hand was flush with blood flow. This was never a sensation he had experienced before - something was off. Tap tap tap. Before Theo could ponder any further, the fancy Rat scrunched his nose and bared a snarl as they heard more knocking pickaxing through his inner monologue. Whatever was going on, it was a terribly rude hour to be disturbing anybody, let alone him. Arming himself with some choice verbal barbs for his unwanted visitor, Theo opened the door.

As the door swung open, he was greeted by a silhouette of something massive - even taller than Hyden - though much of it's form was obscured by the evening darkness and their ebony fur, but what could be seen was not the body of a person. It was of some kind of beast. The fuzzy forelimbs of this creature ended in large, gently curved, off-white spikes, similar to that of a praying insect that Theo had only seen depicted in a historical encyclopedia. He looked up; his eyes met with the pairs it had on their badger-like head. The creature's triangular ears flicked, then it looked down at the Rat; the creature's three pairs of eyes were arranged above one right after the other - like the pips of the six side of a die. The eyes were pure black, save for the iris that shone like a purple ring in the light of the lantern. The words Theo had prepared found themselves lodged in his throat.

Aghast, the fancy Rat stumbled backwards, but his heel snagged on the edge of a floor rug, causing the Rat to land on his posterior, painfully pinching his tail. "Eek! M-monster... Gnnnk! Demon! Hng Aberration!" Theo exclaimed in a shrill voice as his rapid breathing caused him to fumble over his own words. He wanted to call out for help, to Hyden; even to the outsider, Alex. But he could not utter anything beyond sharp gasps as his breathing went to disarray.

The imposing creature looked at the panicked Rat and spoke to them. "Oh? Is that so? Would a monster choose knocking over divorcing your door from its frame?" The creature's voice was deep, coarse, and multitudinous as if three separate beings were speaking in unison. The creature remained in the doorway, peering at the quaking Rat, examining them and their actions closely. All six eyes were locked onto Theo, and the gaze made his fur stand on end. Theo already hated being stared at by just one pair of eyes.

Theo sat on the floor, his whole body feeling flushed and trembling from his pounding heart. That thing had just spoken to him. In fluent dialect no less! Theo had heard of monsters before, but never an intelligent one - let alone one capable of speech. Something about this creature disturbed him to his core. His mind raced at kilometers a minute trying to process just what he was witnessing.

The creature's lips tensed as if it were about to speak; but then it stopped, before looking to its left. "It seems your sentry has been roused." The creature spoke aloud.

"Ess... Sentry?" Theo questioned. Then it clicked; it was referring to Alex. She always kept watch. How did they know about her? "Was this thing spying on us?" Theo exclaimed in his mind. The Rat felt dread bubbling up within him.

In one of the manor's guest rooms, Alex was sleeping. The tension of the last few nights had made deep sleep an impossibility. Thus, when the sound of Theo's raised voice came from downstairs, it was enough to wake her. She rubbed her eyes as she rose from the bed. "Was that Theo shout-" Her large ears flicked as they heard the sound of something unearthly and her fur stood on end. Without any further thought, her body reacted and she grabbed her hunting rifle, sprinting to the location of the sound. Fortunately, her eyes were fully adjusted for the night, and she made it to the foyer without a stumble despite her scramble.

She sprang into the foyer, stopping herself with the guard rail of the grand staircase. Alex laid eyes on the huge beast in the doorway, it's six met with hers. Alex was prepared to shoot, but the violet irises of the beast were staring right at her the instant she rounded the corner into the foyer; as if it already knew she was going to be there. The sight made her freeze. "Theo! What in the hells is that!?" Alex exclaimed.

"A monster!" Theo shouted.

"A visitor." The creature stated, it's baritone, stentorian voice matching Theos' shouting in volume.

No longer half asleep with no obstructing walls to deaden the sound, Alex heard the creature's course, multitoned voice clearly. "Did that thing... just speak?" She said aloud.

Before either Theo or Alex could interject, the creature filling the doorway spoke to the two startled people in the foyer of the manor. "Yes. I did. Your language is relatively simple compared to my native tongue." The beast stated flatly.

"Meh Ms. Solokov! It's egk dangerous! It's bee been spying on us!" Theo said, his chest still struggling to steady itself.

Alex kept her rifle leveled at the beast in the doorway. She wasn't sure if Theo was speaking the truth, or was just in shock. "Okay, who and what the hell are you?" The Bat said, keeping her focus on the creature.

They replied. "I am Niadris. I am what your tongue would call... an Arhulian."

Alex looked at Theo in bewilderment. Theo glanced back at the Bat. "Are-rule-lee-an?" Theo said aloud, sounding out the word by each syllable. "In all my eghk studies. I've never heard of such a species!" Theo said. The Rat's eyes glanced back to the creature in the door with fear and revulsion. "More like 'arhulian'." Theo muttered under his breath. One of the Arhulian's pairs of eyes shifted it's gaze back to the Rat.

"After knocking on your door and introducing myself, you suggest that I am a feral beast?" Niadris queried, in their deep, hellish voice causing the Rat's fur to stand on end as they swallowed nervously. The 'Arhulian' did not just speak their language, but had an advanced understanding of their grammatical structure. The implications of this rattled Theo as he shuffled back to get further away from this creature.

Alex took a deep breath as she maintained composure, interjecting before the situation escalated any further. "Alright, 'Niadris', why are you here? Theo said you were spying on us." She questioned, her rifle planted firmly in the direction of the unplanned visitor. The Arhulian was unfettered by her brandishing a gun right at them. Did it really not know what a gun was, or worse - did it not care?

"Spying? Given that your kind have responded to me with either fear or hostility on sight, I must carefully select when I reveal myself and to whom. It is no act of subterfuge. It is a necessity. Even now; you have your armament at-the-ready just from me knocking on your door and speaking to you. I wanted to speak to an individual, then have them inform the rest of my presence. Do you really imagine this going any better if I had been more bold in my approach? Depicting myself as non-threatening would be an order of magnitude harder with gunshot wounds." Niadris snorted, all three pairs flicking their gaze to Alex before one of them returned to Theo. The multiple pairs of eyes looking in different directions at the same time perturbed them both.

"I eghk do agree that your appearance ehm elicits revuls-" A second pair of eyes locked onto him again. " -ghn a response." Theo said, catching himself. The Arhulian did not speak a word, yet the message was clear; it tore Theo up on the inside to even dare admit, but so far this 'visitor' has shown themselves to be quite capable of not letting verbal barbs go unnoticed.

Alex lowered her rifle, still keeping both hands on it. "I suppose that's... a pretty good point actually." She sighed. "But still, why are you here?"

Niadris spoke calmly. "We share a common enemy. Despite my imposing stature and prowess, physical might is all but meaningless against a foe that subsumes and absorbs all flesh that it touches." Alex's eyes widened as the creature continued explaining. "All my strength and ability are merely tools to avoid becoming a hearty meal in the wake of such a lurid foe." Both Theo and Alex became less defensive as Niadris continued. "...It is a terrible entity that digests without need or moderation. It is a blight upon this world."

Alex and Theo knowingly looked at each other.

"Yeah. We call it the Shadow." Alex said. Her mind feeling a slight amount of guilt over her hostility, her rifle lowered completely.

"Hrm Yes. In that regard we do have a commonality..." Theo relented, stopping before adding too much.

The fancy Rat composed himself enough to stand back up, and brush himself off. "So, that brings us to the matter at hand. How did you find out about our mission? I don't think anyone would have snrk told you about Rising Dawn."

The Arhulian stared with no reaction. "Rising Dawn? Is that a title?" They paused before adding: "No, I sensed that this place had an anomalous aura, so I studied you from afar before approaching."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "What is this urgh 'aura' you speak of? What do you mean by sense?" He asked, his voice dripping in incredulity.

"My kind - Arhulians - have a 7th sense if you will. We can see the 'aura' of living things." Niadris explained. "This place caught my attention because I observed a strange aura much further than I would normally be able to; I was at the crooked sign above the red roofed well when the aura became detectable to me. My normal range is about three-fifths of that."

Theo and Alex raised both their eyebrows. "That's half a kilometer!" They both exclaimed in their minds.

"As I approached and could resolve things in detail, I noticed five distinct auras." Niadris raised their scythe-like forelimb and pointed in various directions. "Two crimson auras; one that luminesces brightly." Niadris pointed to Theo before continuing. "Crimson auras? Is it referring to our catalyst stones?" Theo thought to himself as the creature explained. The Rat was still skeptical, as him being a witch was public knowledge after all. As the Arhulian continued narrating, they mentioned: "The second crimson aura seems faint - as if it were hibernating or asleep." Theo's face twitched in shock as the creature pointed to the direction of the room Hyden was currently residing in - an interior room with no visibility from the outside, nevermind the fact Hyden's presence was supposed to be hidden. Niadris, still speaking: "Then there are two mundane auras - one of them with a notable a tendency to perch from a defensive vantage point." The Arhulian stated, pointing their bone-tipped forelimb to Alex.

"Is that how he snuck past me? He knew I was on watch and avoided me?" Alex pondered.

"Then lastly, the fifth aura. A writhing, squirming mass of discordant signals, that seethe and roil like water itself harboring anger, yet cannot move freely. As if it were sealed away." Niadris pointed in the direction of where the shadow sample was.

Alex and Theo were at a loss for words. There was no way this thing could have such intricate knowledge of Theo's manor without ever having set "foot" inside.

Before either could speak up, the Arhulian spoke again. "Another one of your kind has roused. It is the other mundane aura, and a voluminous one at that. They are to the northeast, and heading in this direction. Could you inform them of my presence before another outburst happens?" Niadris asked with a dry tone.

Alex was stunned in disbelief. They must be talking about Ridge!

Theo butted into the conversation: "I'm not sure what kind of feh fool you take me for, but I highly doubt you really have such a fantastical ability. Really, you can 'see' us through solid walls?" Theo's mind was a whirlpool of doubt and skepticism. The creature's claims seemed too extraordinary to be true. Theo was not sure how, but it has to be some sort of ruse! In the depths of the Rat's mind, the idea of this creature being able to observe him constantly, undetected was a soul-chilling prospect that fundamentally violated his privacy. It has to be a ruse.

"Yes." Niadris bluntly responded.

"Hmph Well, it was a cunning deception, but I'll have you know, our guest is residing in the southwest portion of my manor. And even if they were where you claimed to be, you aren't even looking in that direction..." Theo scoffed. As he was monologuing, the Bat's large ears flicked as she picked up the sounds of footsteps... coming from the northeast.

Niadris did not care to let the Rat finish before speaking, their baritone, multitudinous voice overpowering the Rats' in the conversation. "You have previously admitted to having no information about my species, yet you are presuming knowledge of my capabilities?"

Theo was incensed at being interrupted. "How dar-"

Ridge entered the foyer, scratching his back with a pillow in the other hand. "Hey, uh, is there a barbershop trio here, who are you talki-" The large Shark froze in place as his eyes met with the strange, badger-like creature filling the doorway. "Ah! uh! What in the goddamn...?!" Ridge dropped his pillow and adopted a boxing pose as best they could as their limbs still felt heavy from their evening nap. The Arhulian's eyes devoted a pair to focus on each individual in the foyer.

"Calm down, Ridge! This thing isn't... being dangerous. It wanted to talk to us." Alex blurted out with as much composure as she could muster.

Theo's face was flush as he exclaimed. "What are you doing there? Your room is on the other side of the manor!" The Rat's entire body tingled as any shred of doubt he could summon was scalded away by the unfolding situation.

The muscular teal Shark stammered, as so much was happening all at once for him. "Uh, well, I wandered around and dozed off in one of the book rooms. I got up because it was cold, then I heard this guy... thing?" Ridge said, glancing at Niadris, reluctantly dropping their boxing pose and grabbing their pillow.

"Well, at the very least, Niadris isn't lying to us." Alex said exasperated. Though she too, had her doubts about this 'visitor', she did not appreciate Theo antagonizing them openly. Theo glared at her. So far the Rat has shown hospitality to the outsider, but this jab from her really rubbed him the wrong way. In the uncomfortable silence of the foyer that was now getting cold due to the door still being open, Alex's mind sparked with an idea. "Wait a minute. Your special 'sense' is omnidirectional? And it works through stuff?" The Bat thought aloud, raising her voice as her ideas congealed before her. "You mentioned exactly where our sample of the Shadow was earlier too... Theo! They can detect the Shadow long before any of us can see it coming! Don't you realize how insanely useful that could be?"

The fancy Rat stammered as they choked on the shreds of their ego. "Hhhhnngh I'll... take that into consideration... Eugh if we are going to board this creature. I just hope it's civilized enough to behave as a guest." Theo sneered.

The Arhulian made a grin, showing off their sharp, carnivorous fangs to the Rat, as well as the deep plum hue of their interior flesh. "Considering your kind have reacted negatively to my being - often with violence - my exposure to 'civilization' has been quite limited. If my lack of knowledge bothers you so greatly, perhaps you could take some time to elucidate on the matter of guest-hood~" Niadris smirked.

"Grrrr... Perhaps I will." Theo scoffed. “But I hope you know, we do not have the culinary erk inventory for something of your dietary needs.” Niadris nodded. “I am more than capable of procuring my own food, so you will not have to worry about my nutrition. In fact, I had eaten a deer a few days prior. I should be satiated for several days at least.” The fancy Rat raised an eyebrow. “You have, egh ‘eaten’ ’a’ deer? I think your grammar is a touch underdeveloped. Don’t you mean you caught a deer? hmph What did you do? Swallow it whole?” Theo sarcastically remarked. “I had to break off those meddlesome antlers, but yes, I devoured it whole.” The Arhulian responded nonchalantly. The foyer was stunned. “A-an entire deer?” Alex said incredulously. Theo’s face contorted with disgust. The thought of a creature this size ingesting prey whole - and possibly alive - summoned dreadful imagery in his mind. “So… that would uh... ‘splain the missing animals without a trace. Heh, we thought that was the Shadow ‘fer a moment there.” Ridge chuckled nervously. Theo did not relish being in the room with this lurid creature any longer than he had to. He turned up his scrunched nose before walking off. He was ready for this evening to end. “As I was stating; ehm your first lesson on etiquette will be on closing the door. You're letting all the warm air escape!" Theo spoke as he slinked to the other room, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from his suit pocket, needing something to take the edge off. As he puffed on his cigarette, the tingling in his hand faded.

Niadris scuttled forward into the foyer, bowing their head to ensure they cleared the door. As the Arhulian entered, their full figure and size was apparent to Alex, Ridge, and a distant Theo peeking from a doorway. Though superficially resembling a badger from the neck up, from the neck down; the Arhulian had a long, Myriapodic form with six pairs of pointed, centipede-like legs. The limbs started off fleshy, covered in fur, then transitioned to softly curved limb spikes that were off-white in color, like bone or horn after the third joint. The Arhulian's body was long and arranged like that of a large, furry millipede or caterpillar, albeit with no segments. Despite their body arrangement, the Arhulian was mammalian - bone clad in flesh - yet clearly centipede-like in their silhouette and locomotion. Niadris closed the door with a light slap of their long, tapered, heavy tail.

"Holy shit. That's... not somethin' you see everyday." A tired Ridge said, not entirely sure if they were still dreaming or not.

Alex looked at Niadris and saw that they had the strap of what appeared to be some kind of homemade rucksack across their chest as their only article of clothing. "Yeah, I was about to ask about the lack of clothes... but I guess there's nothing in your size." She remarked lightheartedly, trying to break the tension in the air.

"No. There is not. My metabolism can vary to maintain body heat relative to the environment, so clothes would be unnecessary. In addition, they would both limit my range of movement, and be unlikely to hold up to the kind of abuses my hide experiences." Niadris responded earnestly.

The teal Shark spoke up once there was a gap in the conversation. "So, uh... How do I say this? I don't see nothin' down there, and yet your voice is deeper than an Ironfrost coal mine. What are ya? A guy or girl?" The Shark asked.

Alex's face went wide with shock before scrunching back down into a glare at the Shark. "Ridge! That's terribly rude to just go and ask someone a thing like that!"

Niadris interjected. "There is no need to chide him. It is a perfectly legitimate question. After all, that den keeper did state there appears to be no documentation whatsoever of my kind in their knowledge base - and given the encounters I have had - neither do the rest of your kind for that matter. To answer the first question, my reproductive organs are housed internally to protect them from the rigors of life. Likewise, the answer to the latter question is that your binary terms are insufficient to describe me. Arhulians possess both the ability to fertilize a mate, and sire children. We are hermaphroditic." Niadris explained. "Your language is... limited in expressing my form, so gender neutral terms will be adequate."

Ridge's face was flush with embarrassment as he realized how personal and blunt his question was. "So yeah, on that... if 'yer talkin' about mates; doesn't that mean there are more of 'you' out there?" The shark said sheepishly, trying to adjust the course of the conversation away from his prying faux pas. He clutched his borrowed pillow tightly. Talking to this thing still seemed like a surreal dream to him.

The Arhulian was silent for several seconds. Up until now, they had been immediate to respond to questions. Alex and Ridge glanced at each other. "My kind are not native to this land. In addition, I have traveled a substantial distance. It is highly unlikely you will encounter another Arhulian." Niadris stated, with a briskness to their voice.

Alex looked down at Ridge from the second floor and gave Ridge a gesture to "Cut it out." Ridge gave a small nod. Alex sighed. "Well, it's safe to say your arrival has been quite a surprise. I think we all should get some rest and continue your introduction properly tomorrow." The Bat said, waving her arm for Ridge to come over to her.

Ridge added: "Oh, uh, I don't think we have any beds that'd fit you. 'Fer now you'll have to stay in the reading room I was in. Theo's got a big cushy rug in there. The fire is dyin' down, but I'm sure it's better than out there, heh.``

Niadris gave an acknowledging nod while their triangular ears perked up. They then pointed in the direction of the room Ridge came from with their uppermost arms, that had regular - albeit large, clawed - hands instead of a fang-shaped spike like the rest of their limbs. The shark raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, uh, how do ya know what room I came from?" Ridge asked, confused.

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah... I'll explain that in a minute, Ridge. I think Niadris here wants some space, they need a moment to relax after the 'welcome' we gave them." She said, physically pushing on the Shark to usher them out of the foyer.

It was true that they wanted to be left alone. Niadris had little experience dealing with people. They felt exhausted having to keep their composure on total lockdown to appear as non-threatening as possible. Niadris was eager to find this "reading room" Ridge had mentioned. Spatially, they knew exactly where it was based on the Shark's location in their mindsphere. On the other hand, their mindsphere did not consider walls, thus the Arhulian had to take a few moments to figure out how to navigate the interior of the manor to the reading room.

Despite their size and bulk, the sound of the Arhulian's centipede-like legs scuttling across the floor were much quieter than one would anticipate. Niadris made it a point to take light steps, and maneuver on rugs and carpets to minimize sound. Not out of etiquette, but as a means to hone their stealth. Never before Niadris had such an opportunity to interact and maneuver around people in close proximity in a safe environment.

The Arhulian noted a single aura tailing him; it was the bright, crimson one of Theo. Not desiring further drama, Niadris elected to ignore the Rat's presence as they made their way to the "reading room" Ridge had spoken of. The comforts of fire and shelter were secondary to the Arhulian; what had piqued their interest was the very title of the room itself. Alex and Ridge were returning to their rooms, trying to process the evening's events. "They were... quite the visitor." Ridge said, his tone unsure. Alex looked down at the floor as she walked. "Yeah. Something about them makes my fur stand on end. It's like a creeping feeling going up my back." The tall Shark looked down at his troubled friend. "Are... are ya afraid? They give me the creeps somethin' fierce too." The Bat exhaled. " I... I don't know Ridge. I had my gun pointed right at their head, but they were unfazed. Niadris seemed to know what guns are, yet they treated me like an afterthought. They don't seem dumb either; they gave Theo a good run for their money in a debate. So either they got a damn good poker face, or... this 'Arhulian' might be even tougher than it looks." Alex trailed on, the confidence in her voice gone now that she was in private with the one person here she could truly consider her friend. "...I'm a soldier. A hunter. I've had scraps with big game, I've fought people bigger than me. Even gave ol' lard chops a bloody face." Alex said, referencing her brawl with Hyden. "But that creature, it isn't like anything my training could have prepared me for. I don't fancy getting into a fight with them." Ridge scratched his fin. "So, was letting 'em in really a good idea?" "Personally, I think their alibi passed the sniff test. They could have attacked any time and hit us when we couldn't see it coming. If they wanted to make a move, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be playing mind games like a certain someone I know. We have that going for us at least." Alex paused. "Even so, I feel like they aren't telling us everything." Ridge nodded. As they reached their bedrooms, the two parted ways, then closed the doors to their rooms.

In the other portion of the manor, the Arhulian arrived at the reading room; their three pairs of eyes widened in delight. Wall to wall shelves lined with books! Niadris had very limited experience with books from their fleeting encounters - or spoils - from outsiders. Most of those books contained relatively uninteresting data like logs or journals, or completely fictitious tales. Here however, had an assortment of books on a large variety of subjects and organized quite neatly. The Arhulian removed their handcrafted backpack and pulled something out. It was a thick leather-bound book. It was plainly covered, with the sole word "Dictionary" for the title.

Niadris' chest seemed to squirm and writhe all on its own, followed by the faintest of popping and cracking of stiff joints. With a sound of flesh being pulled taught, numerous pairs of spindly arms came slinking out from in between the creature's ribs on the sides of their chest! These arms were very thin; near-skeletal in appearance. The hands on them were clawless, and consisted of three vaguely conical digits - two fingers, one thumb. These limbs were much slower and deliberate in their movements, and the leathery skin they had was a very deep plum color, almost black. In their travels, Niadris had quickly learned that the pages of books often were too delicate for their stronger, clawed, "normal" arms.

After tenderly putting away their dictionary, the creature's three pairs of eyes darted all across the room, scanning the spines of each book for topics of interest. The low-light conditions of the dying fire was more than enough for the Arhulian to discern the titles. Then, the Arhulian scuttled across the perimeter of the room, picking out a dozen books before returning to the center of the reading room by the smoldering fireplace. The huge, badger-centipede-like being then rested their long form on the floor, their body and abdomen landing on the carpet with a plompf. Niadris laid out three books with the covers open, while each pair of eyes scanned it's own book.

Theo had been quietly observing the beast from a hidden spot in another room through a peephole; and totally-not-a-hole that he had not gotten around to patching yet. The Rat monitored them carefully, shuddering at the sight of the numerous lanky arms protruding from the Arhulian's chest, and those arms touching his books. Yet, his attention was stolen when he witnessed this creature reading three books at a time! Was this creature really that capable of absorbing knowledge? Then, another thought crept into his mind. "Wait, who taught them to read in the first place?" As his mind contemplated, Theo's eyes widened when the creature looked up, and peered straight at him. Eye to eye contact, as if the wall parting them was not even there. Niadris gestured "come over here" with one of their their large, scythe-like forelimbs that were mounted below their exterior arms. Theo ducked down from the footstool he was standing on - nearly falling off in the process - then he covered his face in embarrassment. It seemed like there really was no hiding from this damned creature.

Letting out a sigh, Theo came to the reading room. The warm tingling sensation in his left hand returned. Was his catalyst stone reacting to this creature? The fancy Rat took slow, cautious steps forward. "It is remarkable. A wealth of knowledge at my fingertips." Niadris spoke aloud. They continued. "For so many years, I had to learn matters in direct fashion. I knew your kind stored information on physical documents, but I never could have imagined this place being lined to the ceiling with this treasure." When Theo was up close to Niadris, and composed enough to listen clearly, the Arhulians stentorian voice seemed to be composed of multiple octaves speaking in perfect unison. The scholarly Rat recalled the Arhulians' comment on their native language... “If the multiple octaves can be modulated separately, the grammar of this species could be phenomenally intricate!” However, Theo had more pressing things on his mind than appealing to his inner linguist, and set aside that tangent in his mind for later. The voice had strong projection, and the beast seemed to be making a concerted effort to whisper - which was speaking volume to Theo’s delicate ears.

Theo initially had some words for the Arhulian prepared, but the "treasure" comment gave him pause. The Rat stood there in silence for several minutes as the Arhulian continued reading what appeared to be volumes from an encyclopedia series, watching their thin ribcage arms turn the pages of each book. The hands were slow, deliberate, and delicate. Near by was a cloth that seemed to have been borrowed to wipe the oils from the creature's hands before interacting with his books. The rat let out a swift, small exhale. This monster treated his things better than some people he's hosted. Theo then spoke up. "At least someone else besides His Grace sees my library for what it is, and not eguh ornamentation. Though, I am surprised you would have any academic interest at all." Theo's words trailed on. Niadris shot a glance at him. "However, I presume it is not a completely irrational observation; a thing like you just can't sceh scuttle into a library. Which begs the question at hand, just who would teach you to read?"

The Arhulian paused, before giving Theo their full attention. "I... am not sure." They responded.

"What." Theo said, the word seemingly having spilled out of his mouth in disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know? How ek! How is that even a facsimile of an answer!? Didn't your moth-er well, parents teach you?" Theo said, his voice raised in frustration.

Niadris explained. "I do not know how I came to this knowledge. My earliest memories were of me being carried in my brood lord's abdomen. In my cradle of flesh, I would see and hear the world as they would. They would make demonstrations for me to observe as I nursed inside them. Their past memories would come to me in my dreams." As the Arhulian narrated, Theo shuddered at the prospect of being entombed alive and conscious in writhing, moist, undulating flesh from all sides. The fancy Rat took a deep breath and persisted in wading through the graphic descriptions from the beast - he wanted answers for the trouble he had gone through this evening.

Theo waited for an opening in the creature's explanation to jump in. "Your kind- urk Arhulians, have hereditary memory? If so, how is it you do not know where your knowledge came from? Perhaps a past ancestor?" Theo questioned, only half seriously.

The Arhulian shook its head in disappointment. "If only the answer was that simple. It is far more complex, and I am uncertain of the details. I will tell you what I know." Theo rubbed his brow, adjusted his glasses, and nodded. "When I dream, I see fragments of memories; but these memories are abnormal. I see... a settlement, a school, memories of a life not only not that of my ancestors, but not of my kind entirely... and our biology cannot interbreed. That I do know."

Theo gestured for the creature to get on with it. It was unconscionably late.

"I do have one possible hypothesis. There is another way our kind can exchange memories and experience. A ritual called Arhel-vāl." The strange word was accentuated by the Arhulian's multitudinous voice. "In your tongue, the closest word to it and what it means is amalgamation. Two mature specimens of our kind, typically one larger than their partner, subsumes the other into their flesh..." Theo's stomach churned at the vexing, visceral, possibly even vulgar imagery the Arhulian had verbally illustrated to him. "...but unlike ordinary cannibalism, the subsumed being is absorbed alive, mind intact, and two, become one." Niadris described, sparing no detail, much to Theo's revulsion.

The fancy Rat's tail quaked as his analytical mind began to put together a picture his sensibilities did not want to see. "You're hnnngh suggesting you have Esss assimilated a person?" He said, his mind racing as fast as his heart. "Oh heavens! Is that why it is here? To consume our minds and seize our knowledge?!" Theo's mind screamed.

The Arhulian peered down at the Rat. "Your luminant aura is flaring and seething. Do you find this knowledge troubling?" Niadris asked. Theo looked at the beast glaring down at him, his eyes wide with terror. "I see. You imagine me as your would-be predator." The beast let out a hushed, hellish chuckle with their deep, multitudinous voice. "Worry not, Theo. The ritual of Arhel-vāl is strictly between my kind; the 'donor' in question must be of the utmost certainty in their union - lest their knowledge be torn apart in a maelstrom of panic and fear. Your kind were never even considered a possibility due to the mental fortitude required to uphold the ritual. The being that amalgamated with me - whomever they were - must have been exceptional in their conviction."

The trembling Theo swallowed. "Well, erf I suppose that is good to know. Hrf Well, if you'll excuse me, egk I need to be getting some rest.” He stammered. “It is dreadfully late. And do take care to return my books exactly as you have found them. hgn It was painstaking to order them all as I have." With an abnormal spring in their step, the fancy Rat wheeled around and left the reading room with haste.

"By the gods, what is that thing? How does it exist? And why did it show up to MY manor, of all places?" Theo cogitated. Their attempt to seek out answers seemed to have only made the question mark hovering over this mysterious creature even fatter. Theo paced around the manor, and passed by the room Hyden was sleeping in; him blissfully unaware of all that had transpired this evening. Theo raised his gloved hand, as if to knock on the door, but he stopped himself. "I can't disturb His Grace during his rest... but I must inform him of this aberrant thing as soon as I can."

Theo, anxious and jittering, sat down on a cushioned chair outside of Hyden's room, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. Alone with his thoughts his mind began to wander; all trains of thought leading back to that enigmatic creature. A particular moment from the Arhulian’s behavior stood out to Theo. The way they retreated to the library, and found refuge in books where they were not judged for their appearance or the mannerisms that others found odd... Theo shivered as he felt what was quite possibly a degree of familiarity with this creature. He did not want to fancy such feelings. The Rat shook their head and calmed their mind enough for exhaustion to take its toll; his head bobbed down, and the unlit cigarette in his hand fell onto the floor beside him as he lapsed into sleep right in his chair. The heavyset Rabbit snoozing under their blanket on the other side of the door was the only person in the manor to have had quality sleep that evening.

#theo #alex #fanfic #verse: amaranthine #my ocs #arhulian #original species #niadris #original character #short story #furry

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year ago

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"For I come for your aid"

Totally spontaneous story because I listened to this YouTube video for about half an hour without stopping: 👇

https://youtu.be/KEFBJfEg1WM?si=rNKF4LYXQccAX00A

It's midnight, and my inspiration go brrrrr right now (heh 😅). OC Farmer Aelfdene belongs to @nimillaarts !

He walked further and further into the dense forest, far from Pelican Town, even far from Ridgeside Village. As if deprived of his own will, the young farmer followed the beautiful voice, the angelic singing that filled the Ridge Forest.

Without a sword, without elixirs, there was nothing on Julian to help him when he faced the dangerous monsters that still inhabited this untouched land. His blurred gaze, his eyes like two beautiful gems - one more beautiful than the purest emerald, the other like an azure ocean - both clouded, mesmerised. The singing grew louder and louder, and a thin voice could be heard, a sweet giggle that in a moment turned into a wicked laugh that boded no good. Julian paid no attention to it; he couldn't. As if he were a helpless puppet, he kept walking, deep into the forest, into the nets of the forest fairy that appears once a century to lure her chosen prey. What does the unkind creature do to these unfortunates? Kills them? Enslave them? No one knows, for they all disappear forever, as if they never existed.

The figure of Alelfdene materialised instantly before the young man who was walking helplessly into the forest. A tall, thin elf, eyes the same colour as Julian's, as beautiful as gems, looked worriedly at the man who could not see an elf in front of him at all. Without wasting a second, Aelfdene placed two fingers of his right hand on his friend's forehead, reciting an incantation in his native tongue. A moment - Julian stopped as if struck by an electric shock, and a second later he fell senseless, for Aelfdene had time to pick him up. Carefully laying him down on the grass, he watched the sleeping farmer's even breathing. The angelic voice that filled the woods immediately broke into a cursing, annoyance at the disruption of the hunt by the uninvited guest.

No matter how much the fairy swore in her tongue that she would have her revenge, Aelfdene remained impassive, knowing perfectly well that the creature would not keep her promise of revenge, that everything was just an empty threat. Finally, the creature disappeared with nothing, away from the forest, where was neither welcome by the other spirits themselves nor by anyone else.

Julian slept like a baby, sniffing quietly, not feeling threatened, not feeling the faint smoke forming above him. An ancient magic that was older than even the elves themselves. The flow of energy, the Moon and the Sun, the Deer and the Wolf, two strong spirits that guarded his peace. Spirits that Aelfdene can see.

"Strong magic, why it didn't warn its carrier that danger lay ahead?", Aelfdene could only guess. Maybe they knew he would come to Julian's aid, or maybe something else, something only they could see than any other mortal. The two Beasts looked at the elf closely, and in a second they vanished into thin air. Aelfdene had already realised that no one would answer his questions. What was left for him to do was to think of a way to get his friend to home, to the safe place, far away from monsters.

#farmer julian #farmer aelfdene #rsv #ridgeside village #goodnight everyone

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bakuliwrites · 1 year ago

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Lunar Halo, Chapter 8- Yours Eternally

Rating: 18+ (for future chapters), Minors DNI!!!!!

Chapter Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Ending 1, Ending 2, Ending 3

Fandom: Dark Souls

Relationships: Dark Sun Gwyndolin/OC, Dark Sun Gwyndolin/Chosen Undead

Tags for Whole Work: Major Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Body Horror, Body Worship, Oral S*x, Penetrative S*x, Vaginal Fingering, Friends to Lovers, Bodyguard Romance, Blades of the Darkmoon, Marriage (and not in the Dark Souls 3 definition of it...), Marriage Proposal, Gwyndolin uses he/him pronouns, Falling in Love

Chapter Summary: SMUT AHEAD. Gwyndolin and his Beloved are wed, an event that is felt in the tenuous threads of the world. Read here or on my AO3

Gods do not require witnesses. So in the sanctity of the Holy Church of Anor Londo, Gwyndolin weds a mortal woman, a marriage that takes place with onlookers of sightless statues and eyeless stained glass figures. Yorshka is the only real guest to attend, acting as an officiant for this ceremony and beaming brightly at her brother as he meets her eye. The Dark Sun smiles from beneath his crown, his joy matched only by the elation of his Beloved.

Wedding bells ring from the spires of the cathedral, the celebratory sound foreign to the ears of the residents of the valley. Despite such an unfamiliar chime, all who listen feel the weight of impending change. Legends will be told for ages to come, tales of the union of a mortal and a god. Some are whispered in disapproval, scathing recounts of a manipulative human worming its way into the heart of a deity. However, these rumors are often dismissed, replaced by hushed accounts that weave a bittersweet epic, one filled with hope and with everlasting love. It is one of the few precious, benevolent legends of the world.

Veiled by cloth woven of moonlight, Gwyndolin guides his Beloved Star to the altar. Her robes are redolent of the night that enshrouds the earth, glimmering diamonds and sweeping swathes of indigo pooling around her feet as she glides up the aisle. Iridescent moonstone enamels her hand and with the promise of fealty, of love for eternity, the Dark Sun is wed. And a mortal has been anointed his wife.

The consummation of the marriage between the Dark Sun and his Beloved Star binds not only body, but soul, as well. And in a world that hinges upon souls of all forms, the gravity of this union will be felt for ages to come. The Dark Soul of a human merging with the Light Soul of a god, while done in absolute privacy, will be felt in the fibers that weave this world together. Vibrations in a tenuous thread.

In the sepulcher of Gwyndolin’s chambers, he strips away his robes of moonlight, casting them to the ground, making himself vulnerable for the first time in front of another. His Beloved Star sheds her cloak of night and reveals unto the Dark Sun every time-faded scar, every stretch mark, every beautifully human piece of herself. She is first to reach a timid hand out to ghost along Gwyndolin’s clavicle, her fingertips brushing along the bony protrusions of his ribs, and dancing gracefully down the knots of his vertebrae. She is gentle with Gwyndolin’s delicate frame, her kisses featherlight as she litters them along his jawline, down the slope of his neck, and across his chest. Her words are praising, uplifting, before she drags her tongue along the porcelain shell of his ear, complimenting the Dark Sun’s grace, his gentility.

“Lovely Gwyndolin,” she whispers, a psalm hushed in secrecy to an adoring deity, “My most precious, Gwyndolin.”

He coos her name, an incantation imbued with ultimate devotion, with perennial love. In the dusky haze of this room, Gwyndolin and his Beloved are safe. Concealed from a harsh, unforgiving world. Moonlight guards them, silver and inviolable.

When the Dark Sun rests his hands upon the skin of his Beloved, he feels the ridges of her hip bone beneath his elegant fingers, the knotted wires of tendon, the plushness of fat atop sinewy muscle. He finds himself lost in her humanity, drinking in her body, her soul like he’s parched. His touch meanders along her form, taking his time in memorizing every curve, every dip, every plush inch of her. Gwyndolin must know his Beloved in her entirety, and she, him. Each motion of theirs is meant to venerate the other, to worship and revere. The sheets beneath are hallowed in the union of dark and light. In the moon and the stars.

Proof of Gwyndolin’s arousal grazes his Beloved’s inner thigh. She smiles coyly at him, pink feathering across her cheeks.

“May I?” she questions, her eyes sparkling impishly in the sliver of moonlight cast across their shared bed.

“Please,” Gwyndolin whimpers, desperation pooling between his legs. He ensnares her lips with his, moaning softly into his Beloved as her hands dip between his thighs. It is a sensation unlike anything the Dark Sun has ever felt before. She is attentive, languorous, each motion purposeful and sweet. He cannot help but sigh into her like a willow bending with the wind. She swipes her thumb over his tip, wetting him with the glistening bead of cum that sits atop it, dewey and warm. Her rhythmic pumps are slow and unhurried, sending voltaic shivers through Gwyndolin’s body. He feels lightning constricting his lungs as he rocks his hips in time with his Beloved’s motions.

“My Star,” he manages through labored breaths as her mouth leaves its bittersweet marks: merlot lovebites painting his skin, skin stretched taut like canvas over bone, “I am yours, and yours alone.”

She releases her grip, trailing kisses down his chest, her lips velvety and warm in the chill of the evening air. She tickles the tender flesh of his adonis belt with her fingernails, grazes his inner thighs with her teeth, before settling in between them. It’s all Gwyndolin can do not to buck his hips into her in his excitement, his hand flying to his mouth to cover his startled gasp. Graciously, she holds his legs to keep him in place, giggling at his eagerness. The movement of her tongue is euphoric: how it flattens against him, swirls around his tip, laps up his arousal, and drags up the underside of his cock. His mind is reeling with pleasure, his fingers tangled in her hair. Every nerve ending in Gwyndolin’s body feels as if they’re firing in deliciously overwhelming waves.

“My Darling,” he huffs, his whole body flushed and rosy, “I beg thee. Let me please you.”

He draws her up, his lips crashing into hers, kisses so terribly desperate and messy. She tastes of him and in some way it feels both deliciously sinful and potently sacred. She has sanctified him in her own way. Now, it is the Dark Sun’s turn to consecrate her. He lays kiss after kiss over her soft skin, attentive to each of the sensitive buds of her nipples, mouth closing gently around one and then the other. He revels in her needy moans, her stifled gasps as he reaches her heat. His tongue searches, circling when he finds a spot that makes his Beloved moan his name so exquisitely, Gwyndolin is convinced he could come right then and there. Her mewls are salacious as his tongue teasingly darts in and out of her entrance. Lips wet with her arousal, Gwyndolin laps her up like he’s famished, his nose eagerly bumping against her with each rut of her hips.

Gwyndolin truly does feel as if he has been starved of affection the whole of his life. Of praise. His Beloved’s celebration of the way he makes her feel is utterly enriching. The way their bodies move together is a gift. How is it that this human woman fits so perfectly against him? And he against her?

The Dark Sun and his Beloved Star breathe as one. Their hearts beat as one. His lips find hers again, while his hand slips down to her heat, fingers slick with her arousal. With permission, Gwyndolin buries two within her, pumping slow and rhythmic. The tiny, aching whines that fall from her mouth only serve to fuel the Dark Sun’s passion. And he cannot help the soft, yearning moans that escape his throat. Wordlessly, she stays his hand and adjusts herself, ready to take him in. Slowly, Gwyndolin sheathes himself inside her, exhaling as he feels her tighten around him. She’s warm, so very warm, and feels so utterly perfect around him. When she’s had a moment to adjust, the Dark Sun and his Beloved star grind their hips in tandem.

“My heart is yours, Dear Gwyndolin,” she breathes, the heat of her mortal flesh utterly intoxicating. He is coiled around her body, holding her close as he presses deep inside her, his tip pushing against the soft pad of her cervix. She dissolves under his touch, turns to ash in the cyclic passage of time. She is the last ember of a fading hearth, born in the womb of a dying star. She is a human wreathed in darkness, darkness warmed by ancient starlight.

“My Dearest Gwyndolin,” she speaks through constricted vocal cords, her grasp desperate on his thighs as she grinds her hips into him, “I grow close. Please, I-”

Her words are lost when Gwyndolin captures her lips with his, fervent kiss after fervent kiss no doubt leaving behind their wine-colored marks. He can feel her walls pulsing around him, and he is not much further behind. Gwyndolin’s free hand reaches to her breast, massages and kneads. Her fingers tangle in his snowy hair, tugging gently to angle his head so she might have better access to the tender flesh of his neck. She suckles gently beneath his ear, delighting in the strained keens that fall from her dearest Gwyndolin’s pink lips.

The world falls away to nothing as the Dark Sun and his Beloved Star bring one another to ecstasy. In an almost febrile haze, Gwyndolin feels the coil in her release. And as she brings him to completion, Gwyndolin feels himself unfold. Like she’s cracked open his ribs, carving out the hollow bone and scooping out the rot that has buried itself in the cavity of his chest. She nestles within him, blooming in the fibrous organs beneath his sternum. Together, they are a tangle of limbs, scales, moonlight, and constellations. Threads of shadow and lunar halos, flares of sunlight and tendrils of darkness. Should flame extinguish, it would not matter, Gwyndolin thinks. He and his Beloved can ignite flame of their own, kindling for a fire that knows nothing of the festering world around them.

In the silence and the bliss that follows, the Dark Sun presses his hand to his Beloved’s abdomen, and she to his. Gwyndolin wonders aloud to her if they should conceive children. If they should birth beings from the union of shadow and light. To carry out a primordial lineage. To let the world not fall to ruin. Surely, this would be their fate. Surely, some being somewhere would smile upon this union. Upon conception of a creature that houses both a Soul of Light and a Soul of Dark.

Gwyndolin’s eyes fall shut in the murky twilight, comforted by his Beloved humming a tune long forgotten by the ears of man. She rubs gentle circles into his back and holds him close. His dreams at first are pleasant: images of a future with her. Little feet pitter-pattering through the grand halls of Anor Londo. The soft caress of his Beloved. Life lived at one another’s side, basking in the warmth of the sun. Love ingrained in every surface, every action, every word, eternal and unwavering.

And then the Dark Sun’s dreams turn to ruin. In them, foul beasts lurk in his dungeons. Massive shadows writhe in the dark, burbling forth from tombs disturbed, fetid and bloated, stinking of rot. He dreams most vividly of being consumed. Whittled away to nothing but bone and ruined flesh. A bolus of sinew and chewed gristle or a bezoar housed in the stomach of a grotesque creature bloated by unfathomable sin. And what of his Beloved? Hollowed, withered. Or perhaps consumed, herself. Gwyndolin, too weak to protect her. And she, too human to change the course of fate.

He wakes with a start, gasping shallow breaths as if having been drowned in the depths of a deep, dark sea. His Beloved is beside him, drawing him close and littering his face with kisses.

“My Darling, what troubles you?” she questions, her voice muted with exhaustion. He does not know how to explain these terrible visions. Visions that felt so utterly real, he wonders if they aren’t prophecy. When Gwyndolin finally manages, his Beloved gently cups his cheek in one hand and leans her forehead against his.

“I will not allow that to happen,” she vows, letting her eyelids flutter shut, “And if it does, then I, too, shall be consumed. For my love for you does not end with death.”

A/N: We are nearing the end of this story. It is hard to believe! I've gotten a couple comments about what is going to happen at the end of this story, if the ending will be happy or sad. Worry not! I plan to do three different possible endings that you can choose from, one of which will be a happier ending :) I wanted it to be a little like a choose your own adventure. So the last three chapters (chapters 10-12) will be the three different endings. Those will all go up at once when it comes time. Thank you so very much for reading, for your support, and your comments! I hope you have had a wonderful weekend and have a wonderful start to the week!

#dark sun gwyndolin #dark souls #dark sun gwyndolin x oc #spicy #lemon #dark souls 1 #dark souls 3 #gwyndolin #my writing #dani writes

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saintlethanavir · 3 years ago

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Post ME3 Fic WIP!

Full WIP is on p/treon!

I finished ME3 on call with @thecoffeerain so i was possessed to begin a sorta fic about after the end. We chose Synthesis as an ending (synthetic and organic life melds) and my oc Castor (a cousin of the protags in MEA) survived but Charlie’s oc Astrophel Shepard was MIA. This is set a decade after the time of ME3 and they romanced Garrus!

The sounds of pattering feet and shrieks of delight bring Castor out of his funk. Little hands, almost as rough as his, tug at his old leather jacket now covered in small patches and buttons. Two big blue eyes gaze up at him with excitement and wonder while a tiny, squat body wiggles into the space against his side.

“Dad says we’re leavin’ in five minutes! He says we’re all gonna go see the big me!”

Ah right.

Tired as he is — there was barely any sleep to be had on normal days, let alone after nights like the one before — Castor cannot deny his daughter a smile. Who could, after all? Even her chunk of a tail is wagging with excitement. Every atom of her small body simply vibrates with boundless energy. He jokes sometimes that she’s feeding off his life force like a little vampire, to which Garrus shakes his head and snorts.

If she starts growing fangs like a real one let me know. We’ll get caps for them or something.

“Thanks kiddo, why don’t you go put on your coat and tell Dad I’ll be out soon. Gotta send out a message real fast,” he murmurs affectionately, his good hand —the right— patting the top of his daughter's leathery head.

She’s off like a shot in a matter of seconds, again with the patter of tiny feet. It will never cease to amaze Castor how she moves so fast, been like that since infancy. Always raring to go somewhere, meet new people and talk about her life. If the person she cornered knew about the giant lobsters that came out of the sky to eat the people of Earth but her papa’s saved the day!

Most did. They had been evacuated or fought, or both. But they always made time for the darling Krogan daughter of the famous Archangel and Lieutenant T’Eana.

T’Eana-Shepard.

Last nights dream pokes about Castor’s skull with a pointed stick made of growing migraines and eventual nosebleeds. At least it was from stress and thousand times broken nose, not haywire biotics. Though he still had plenty of days where it buzzes sharp beneath his flesh.

No time to think about that right now though. His therapist would be proud of him for not latching onto that spiral, there used to be a time when he would have found comfort in it.

With a grunt and creak of achy joints, Castor moves from his squatting position on the guest room floor to stand and fully face the console before him. A flicker of bright orange numbers and a long scroll of text lights up his pale face, settling over ridges and hard lines of scars acquired almost a decade ago now. Sometimes when he least expects it, Castor can still feel the shrapnel rocket across his cheek. The ringing in his ears never quite went away after that explosion, it’s become more of a comfort now instead of a hinderance at least.

Shaky fingers move about the holographic screen, the pattern muscle memory now. After ten years of punching in codes and swiping away notifications furiously, Castor has come to not expect anything. Still when he comes to the end of the sequence, his torn up hand hovers over the [ SEND MESSAGE ] button. As if those extra seconds will make any difference, that maybe he would call him first and he’d hear the voice he so desperately wishes to hear again. For real. Not just in VI or the vids, even promotional ads….

Inevitably, Castor is always the one to press the button first.

#mass effect #me3 #garrus vakarian #garrus x shepard #mass effect fic #castor t’eana shepard #x: do you want company?

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alia-turin · 4 years ago

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Finally chapter 5 and finally things starting to move at very fast pace. There will be 3-4 more chapters based on how long they turn out to be. I hope you enjoy this one as is long, but a lot of things happen. Also I think Avallac’h is a bit of a troll. Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 5) Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

Caranthir looked at himself in the mirror, one of the few occasions when he actually needed to do it. Eredin’s, or more like Ge’els’ reception, was today celebrating...something. An anniversary or something like that, Caranthir didn’t really care, it didn’t matter either. Ge’els needed that for his little political games and they all had to behave, the occasion was not important, it was about the game. Caranthir knew how the power in Tir na Lia worked, he knew there were still some who doubted Eredin’s rule. Ge’els called that appeasing the nonbelievers, Eredin called it hunting the traitors. It was all the same.

He was dressed for the occasion even if he didn’t really want to be there, black coat the collar and sleeves lined with grey furs, grey belt over his hips and black pants tucked in black cavalry boots, his Red Rider cape hanging over his shoulder. Well, that was the best he could do, no amount of nice clothes could fix his face so there was that. He thought of opening a portal to Aine’s room but he decided against it. He was going to be civilized tonight as much as he could be.

Walking to her room he wondered what was he going to do from now on. No more running on his end, that was clear but then what? He felt he was on an impossible journey where he didn’t want to let her go but the longer he held her, the worse it would become. Avallac’h was right, he was a cage. He grinded his teeth. Every time Avallac’h was right about something it caused him physical pain.

He knocked on her door and did not wait for invitation - he walked in. She was standing in front of the mirror in her room but Caranthir froze in place forgetting what he was going to say or even do. Whoever the servant who picked that dress was he should start treating them better than the rest. Her hair was tied and falling over one shoulder leaving the rest of her skin exposed. The dress his servants had picked was green, somehow complementing her mismatching eyes, thin straps were holding the fabric to her shoulders, but he could see her collarbones and the elegant curve in her neck. The dress itself was simple, wrapping around her body, tight around the waist but running free around her legs, a long slit was starting from her hip all the way to her feet.

She turned to face him but he was still staring. Women in court had never attracted him in any way or form, too polished for his taste, but seeing her like that...then again she was not part of the court and probably that did it for him even dressed like that there was still wilderness around her. Caranthir wanted to go to that reception even less now. All he could think about was throwing her on the bed and tearing the dress from her body.

“You are not talking.” she finally spoke her voice doing nothing to stop his urges.

He made a sign with his hand for her to come closer and with some hesitation she did. He touched the skin on her neck with the tip of his fingers, her body tensing under his hand. There were still traces of the bruises he left on her neck and some on her shoulders and arms. He cast the spell and it all disappeared. She looked down to her arms, her eyes filled with surprise.

“How…”

“Not going to walk you in there looking like a battered horse.” He forced a smile on his lips, he wouldn’t have done that if it was different sort of marks.

He opened a portal and saw her surprise just growing at that. She had probably never seen one of those, the one he opened when he took her, well she was unconscious and then the first one she saw was probably yesterday when he walked in her room, but probably never consciously being through one.

“Not using the main door” she smiled, her eyes shining from the candle lights.

“Never.” her grabbed her hand and stepped through the portal making her follow him.

They found themselves on a grand balcony, no one was looking at them. He was right about no one paying attention to their entrance, she could see maybe few people looking at the portal but then they just continued their conversation.

Aine spent the day thinking about tonight and about the opportunity. She was finally out of the room with the door she couldn’t open and away from the servants that didn’t care about her. She did not harbor any illusions that the people here did, she was just above a slave for them, but she also looked enough of an elf to be able to blend and disappear especially dressed the way she was. She needed a chance when Caranthir was not paying attention. She looked back toward the city, the view from here was very different compared to her window. Different parts of the castle, but as it was a reception room she could assume it had easy access to the entrance.

Caranthir placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her to go inside, she obliged.

“Look at you.'' As soon as they walked in a large man approached them, the tattoos on his face looked like blood and his size was almost twice compared to everyone else in the room. “You brought your little toy.”

Aine froze as she heard him speak. That was the same man who had walked into her home and dragged her by the hair in the woods. His voice had been distorted by the helmet, but now it just hit her, that and the frame...she made a step back despite Caranthir’s hand that was still in her.

“Where is Eredin?” Caranthir seemed to pay no attention at the small panic attack she was having.

“Entertaining his guests with Ge’els.” The man made a sign to the main hall. “I guess you are busy tonight? Not getting drunk with me?”

She hoped Caranthir would say yes, he would just leave her to her own devices and he would go with his...she guessed friend. He shook his head. The other man smiled and walked away grabbing a glass of liquor from one of the servants.

Aine exhaled loudly, her knees feeling weak once her whole body was not ridged with panic anymore.

“Are you okay?” there was no concern in Caranthir’s voice, it sounded more like curiosity. Did he even understand what did just happen? Did he...she took a deep breath and collected herself. Just a couple of hours, hopefully less.

“Yes, I’m sorry it is the portal.” she tried to lie as best as she could, she had no idea if he bought it, his face was blank, nothing she could read on him.

“Come on I need a drink.” he led her inside and grabbed two glasses from a servant, he downed one immediately but passed her the second. He grabbed another one for himself. The servant walk away with an empty tray.

The room was astonishing, by far the largest room she had ever seen, still there were so many people inside colorfully dressed, women wearing fascinating dresses, it was hypnotizing and suffocating at the same time. She absentmindedly looked at the faces, that was probably the best of Tir na Lia and beyond. Everybody who was somebody here to pay homage to their king. She raised the glass to her lips, but she didn’t drink. She wanted to be sober when the opportunity arises. As she did that her eyes stopped at a man. Short for Aen Elle, short dark hair, he was far but she could recognize him.

“What?” Caranthir must have seen the change of expression on her face.

“That’s my father.” she pointed with her chin in the general direction, there were at least three other men in that vicinity. “Short, dark hair, dark blue cape.”

“Ailin Eurig?” Carathir looked surprised. “Really?” he looked at her father again and then back at her. “I guess I can see some of it. You want to say hi?”

“No!” she almost screamed. “I’d rather stay away.” she probably sounded more desperate than she was, but honestly there was no reason for them to interact. They didn’t split on bad terms, they split on no terms. Her father always had a strange relationship with her varying from warmth to ignoring. It wasn’t bad, never bad, but it was confusing. She had no idea on which day she would be the bastard child and on what days he would look at her as just a child.

“Interesting.” Caranthir looked at her and smiled as if she was supposed to understand their politics. She knew her father had power and resources. She never knew how much, no one cared to explain that to her, why would they? “If only Ge’els knew.”

“If only Ge’els knew what?” a tall lean man with blond-silver hair approached them. If Aine didn’t know better she would call him a king, there was something regal about the way he walked and held himself. His clothes were formal but simple, his gaze sharp as a cat on a hunt.

Caranthir was about to open his mouth but Aine looked at him pleading and he just smiled. “We were talking about art, seems like lord Eurig found a painter who can match your skills.”

“Interesting.” the man narrowed his eyes, she couldn’t decide if he saw through the lie or was truly offended by the art comment. “Are you not going to introduce me?”

“Ge’els, you know everybody here, do I need to introduce you?” Caranthir smiled almost pleasantly, Aine looked confused, not sure what was going on.

“I know where she came from, I know what you have been doing, but…” the man stepped closer and bent forward a bit. “Fascinating mix of human and elven lines. Almost perfect balance...and the eyes, different colors, very human but also elven... You should come to my studio some time.”

“She would not.” Caranthir moved between her and Ge’els, not even realizing what possessed him to do that. Showing he cared was giving the man advantage but at the same time something in him just stung. He knew very well what Ge’els did with most of his models and that was not happening. Not now not ever.

Ge’els smiled, his eyes fixed on Caranthir. He was going to use that against him, not now, he had no reason to do it now, but one day there will be something that Ge’els would want from him and he would use that moment. No more words were exchanged, there was no need for that, Ge’els just walked away to his next victim and Caranthir had to figure out what he could hold over the adviser’s head. A servant passed and he grabbed two glasses but when he looked at Aine her glass was still full from last time. He drank one glass and kept the other.

“Do you dance?” she randomly asked him. That was the first time she probably asked him a question.

“No.” He answered curtly then he realized it was a party and he had brought her here. So far all they had done was being short with with her and drinking. That was not how he wanted to be, but he also felt that everything he might say could scare her even further away from him, if that was even possible. “However, I do that.” he focused on a man who was standing behind Imlerith, seemingly without a reason the man lost his balance and hit Imlerith, his drink spilling over the general. What followed was angry Imlerith and a man who was very afraid.

“Nothing like juvenile behaviour to impress a woman.” Avallac’h’s voice spoke on his left and Caranthir turned making sure he did not get to talk to Aine the same way Ge’els did. Giving one of them advantage was more than enough for a night. “You are one of the greatest mages here and you use your magic for...what?”

Caranthir stared at him. He wasn’t a child anymore, he could use his magic for whatever he wanted. “Maybe you should have tried it with Lara. Maybe juvenile behaviour would have impressed her more than...what? Moonlight walks?”

They looked at each other. They had crossed a line, Avallac’h knew it and Caranthir knew it, but neither of them was going to step back.

“I hear Eredin wants you to take my place.” Avallac’h smiled.

“He should have done it sooner, with all the disappointment you have delivered.” Caranthir had gotten better at that. Years ago he would have lost his temper. Now the whole interaction was burning him from the inside, but he was still in control.

“The only disappointment I ever delivered is you, Caranthir.” Avallac’h face was emotionless but Caranthir saw how pleased he was in his eyes. “Truce?”

“Why are you even talking to me?” Caranthir’s frustration was growing, it wasn’t Avallac’h’s words, he couldn’t care less what his teacher thought. He hated being treated like a child and that was always how it started and ended.

“It is a social event Caranthir, people come to social events to socialize.” again that patronizing tone as if he was a toddler who needs to be scolded. “I heard an interesting story, from one of your servants. Yesterday when you came to my room I really wondered what despaired you so much to come.”

“Can you stay out of my business?” Caranthir raised his voice maybe a bit too much as could of people nearby turned their heads.

“I would, but you made it my business, remember, you asked.” he was right about that, his own internal tournament had pushed him there. “I’m happy for you.” there was no mockery in his voice, not as he said that. “I’m sure you will handle it well.” there came the mockery.

Caranthir wasn’t even angry that Avallac’h was teasing him, he was angry because Avallac’h was right. He couldn’t handle it well, he could turn a dragon into stardust but he could not control his own emotions or feelings.

“At least I won’t be left for a human.” he gave Avallac’h a smile.

“No but...you were left.” at first Caranthir didn’t understand what his teacher was talking about, but then he turned. Aine was gone.

Aine stopped listening to the conversation that was happening between Caranthir and the other man as soon as the navigator turned his back at her. There was her chance she just needed to calmly find her way to the door and from there the main gate and she would be free. Caranthir’s focus was entirely on the man, his whole body language had changed and she knew he was not paying attention to her, it was as if she had stopped existing, which was exactly what she needed.

She made a careful step backwards, wondering if he would notice, but nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. Then she turned around and started walking as calmly as she could, without running, but her feet just wanted to move faster and be out of there. She passed a pair of guards but nobody paid attention to her...of course they didn't. She was dressed like all the other guests, who would stop her. By the time she passed the last set of guards before the main gate she was running. It was so close to her freedom, she would be out of this terrible place and terrifying people.

Suddenly she saw a bright light ahead of her and she lost her balance, falling back on the cold ground. A portal with frost edges appeared before her and Caranthir stepped out of it. Her blood froze in her body. She was almost sure he would kill her now. Didn’t matter if she could not have her freedom, death was a good alternative compared to everything else he could do to her. His face did not betray anything, nor anger nor satisfaction, like most of the night he was just unreadable. He leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her up. Aine didn’t make a sound, she knew whatever was coming was neither going to be gentle nor pleasant. She had to accept it.

He turned her around, her arms crossed over her chest, his wrapped around her. In different circumstances his embrace might be even romantic, now she just felt as if he was about to crush her, pulling her close to his body.

“Crafty little spell that allows me to find you anywhere. You think I would take you out of your cage and just hope for the best?” he was leaning forward whispering in her ear, she could sense the warmth of his breath. “Where do you even think you are going?”

“Home!” She tried to free herself but he was way stronger and his grip was too firm.

“Silly girl. Your home is gone. We burned it to stop the humans from hiding so deep in the woods. You have no home.”

“You are lying!” he must be, there was no reason he would be telling the truth. “And even if you are not lying, anywhere is better than here.”

“Are you sure?” his grip around her eased, he turned her around, his hands still holding hers. It was dark but his pale eyes were reflecting whatever little light was in the yard, he was like a wild beast. “Half human half elf mut, alone in the world. How will that work for you? The elves will look down on you, always. Humans will never accept you, you are better than them why should they.” His words hurt but that did not mean they were a lie. There was a reason she lived far away from everybody. Sure at first she did not have a choice, but then she realized that she would never be accepted by any of them. She will always be different.

“So what, I’m supposed to do? Stay here?” she tried to sound confident, but the words had no bite.

“Why not?” he tilted his head as if he was studying something on her and then reached for her face, his fingers brushing her jaw almost loverlike. “I can teach you magic, you can have whatever you want.”

“I want a home. My home.” Honestly that was all she ever wanted, but right now for her it meant anywhere but here. She was scared, he had made it clear he wanted her here, she was denying him that, she couldn’t see herself living a long and happy life past that point.

Nothing happened for a very long moment, his face remained unchanged, she could read nothing on it. “You can go.” he finally said. “The guards won’t bother you.”

Caranthir didn’t want to watch her go so he turned around and walked back to the castle, angry. He could evaporate everyone here just to satisfy the temper. He wasn’t angry with her, she did the most logical thing one could do, saw an opportunity and used it.

He saw a servant carrying a bottle of alcohol and he grabbed it.

His first mistake was that assumed he could ever be happy in that way. His second mistake was listening to Avallac’h. His third mistake was he allowed himself to believe his teacher. In reality Crevan was right, Caranthir was a cage filled with anger, spite and violence, that was him leaving the cage door open and what happened? His bird left. If he had kept it close she would be here now with him. No, if he had kept her here she would have fought him and things would never go his way. At least not the way he wanted them to go.

He found himself back in the main hall and went straight to the balcony, no one was there so he could drink in peace. He leaned against the railing and watched the city. He could sense her, in a moment of reason he had put a curse on himself to be able to feel her. She might go wherever but he would know where she was and what she felt. He drank. The way she looked at him...she never turned her eyes away at his face, she never even said anything about it. Was it fear or she just...didn’t care? He drank. He could see her mismatching eyes looking at him, pleading with him to let her go. Was he that bad? Was he really that terrible that he did not deserve someone who can accept him for what he was? He drank. Probably locking someone in a room for a week was not the way to do it either…

“My lord.” someone spoke behind him and Caranthir turned around. Ailin Eurig was standing there, Aine’s father. He could pick some of the features from his face on hers, elegance of the face, the thin nose, better suited for her face then his. “Forgive me for the bluntness, but I couldn’t fail to notice the woman that was with you tonight.”

Caranthir narrowed his eyes. He knew that was not a social visit, it was a game. He had started the game by accident by bringing her here, but now the game was unfolding. If he was sober or less angry he could probably figure the game sooner, but he wasn’t so he waited.

“She reminded me of someone, someone I have not seen in years.” the man continued after he saw Caranthir will not respond.

“Yes, she is your daughter.” He decided to cut to the chase, he wasn’t in the mood for long pointless conversation, he needed the man to get to the point.

“Fascinating really.” The man seemed amused and Caranthir could feel his anger building once more. “I’m impressed. From my bastard daughter, who left the home rather ungrateful for everything I had provided for her to your bed. Then again humans and their offspring are good for one thing and one thing only. I hope she brings you as much joy as her mother brought me.” It was the words that burned in Caranthir’s mind but also the man’s smile. He did not care what he thought about the humans as a whole, nor about half elves, but that was personal. He didn’t view her as half elf, she was...like him and she completed parts of him that he was missing. If he was sober or less angry he would probably come up with a clever remark, make the man feel small and walk away. He was neither. Also he wished she was in his bed, not even because of lust, he needed to hold her and be held desperately.

Caranthir turned his whole attention to the man, holding the bottle in his left hand he grabbed him by the throat with his right and pushed him toward the railing. Half of the man’s body was hanging outside all Caranthir needed was just a bit more and the man would decorate Eredin’s front courtyard.

“I cannot decide right now if I want to push you down or I want to turn you in a worm and go fishing tomorrow.” the man’s hands gripped around his wrist but Caranthir was drunk and he didn’t think straight. In that moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Eredin was standing there.

“Whatever that is, you are neither pushing him down, nor you are feeding the fish with him.” Eredin squeezed his shoulder as if knowing Caranthir was past reason at that point, not even because of the man he was about to kill, he just happened to be the last drop in a very full glass. He stepped back letting the man step on the balcony.

“Your majesty!” Ailin was red and gasping. “Outrageous! Your navigator needs to know his place that was unprovoked attacked and he needs to be punished for that.”

“Punished?” Eredin smiled. “My lord, if I have four peasants, I can make myself four lords. If I have four lords, I cannot make even half of Caranthir.” the king stopped letting the words sink in the air. “I think my navigator and I need to have a conversation if you excuse us.”

The man bowed his head and walked away obviously getting the message of who is more replaceable. Carathir wasn’t proud of himself he knew he overreacted over something he usually probably wouldn’t. Or even sober and calm he would have reacted like that again as it was personal. Eredin looked at him, green eyes filled with...disappointment. First Avallac’h, then Aine and now Eredin.

“What was that all about?” the king finally asked after he had subjugated his navigator to his tortuous look for long enough.

“He said something, I took it personally.” he finally responded, he couldn’t believe the shame in his voice.

“Was it personal?” Eredin seemed curious.

He could lie. He could say yes. But it wasn’t. The man said what almost everybody else thought. Humans were below them and half elves had this strange place in their society that no one could truly define, but certainly they were not Aen Elle. It wasn’t like he and Imlerith had never made a joke about that. But it was also personal, the joke was not about them, the humans or them the half elves. It was about someone Caranthir cared about on a level he did not truly understand. He didn’t answer.

“Your arrogance does not need to hear that, but I will say it once.” Eredin leaned forward and grabbed the back of Carantjir’s head pulling him closer, his lips on the navigator’s ear. “You are valuable to me, and I like you. But I’m the king and I have a kingdom to rule and so happens his lordship is one of the richest and most influential people here. Ge’els tells me he is weak, but he has a son who isn’t, you kill the weak worm, we end up in a civil war. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Caranthir nodded, Eredin rarely spelled out things so loud and clear which only enhanced the gravity of the situation. He knew politics was fragile right now. Despite all the power Eredin held, there were people who just needed an excuse to turn the tables. There were those who thought themselves better than him and those who simply didn’t like him. Mages had ruled over Aen Elle for years and now someone else held the crown. Everyone needed an excuse.

“Ge’els will fix things, you get yourself out of Tir na Lia for a few days.” Eredin stepped back, there was fire burning in his eyes. Caranthir knew if Eredin had a choice he wouldn’t care what happened here, but the crown did not give him more freedom, it did the opposite. He nodded again. Ge’els will do his political talk and Caranthir will be out of sight so he does not add salt to the injury. He preferred to be in the mountains anyway, at least until he figured out his other problem.

#caranthir ar feiniel #aen elle #my writing

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

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Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 1

Authors Note: Do I hear OC x OC bells? Maaaaaaybe~ This is a story starting my OC Xaviera with @the-slasher-files‘s OC Andrei and how they meet and all the adventure and of course....murder, because they are killers. Many thanks to @the-slasher-files because this story couldn’t have been made without her help.

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova belongs to @the-slasher-files

Warning: The following story below contains murder and death, because our killers love it.

Words: 2.0k

Winter in Himalaya was definitely cruel and oh so very cold, below freezing, everything was covered in pure white, the snow that if you weren't equipped adequately, would freeze your extremities like feet and hands.

That wasn't a problem for Xaviera since it wasn't her first time in Himalaya. For her, it felt like visiting her grandparents, who sadly died a long time ago. Her icy blue eyes took in the scenery; the quietness, the tranquility, she felt like she was home, but right now she didn't have time for basking in what Mother Nature had to offer, because the snow-white haired woman had a mission and just like an Apex predator, she was set to fill it to the end perfectly.

She was currently laid on her front on a low ridge, camouflaged in the snow, like Snow Leopard, her eyes trained on a small group of three poachers. This wasn't her principal mission for why she came to Himalaya, but when life gives you a chance at hunting to balance the ecosystem, you take it and that's what she does.

They are marching through the snow in the clearing of the forest, her eye looking at them from the telescope of her sniper rifle, her finger hovering on the trigger, waiting like an animal in hunting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

She was just going to do that, but she felt like something was off, like someone else was there; a feeling she got after years of observing animals. Her blue eyes left the poachers only to see something moving behind the trees.

A man.

Her lips were pulled into a thin line; that she didn't expect. Was he with them? What was he planning?

Before she could ask herself any more questions, the sound of a gun shooting meets her ears. The man just shot one of the poachers, not deadly, but enough to make said wounded man yell in pain.

Fuck, that didn't happen before and her first instinct told her to take care of the poachers; that was her job and she just did that. It only took one minute to fatally wound them, seeing their bodies drop on the snow, white turning scarlet.

Her gaze averted from the killed poachers to the man, only for him to be gone. Xaviera gulped down, still hiding in place, blue eyes scanning the area for any movement, not daring to move an inch from her hiding spot.

Where had he gone? She tried to peak her ears up for sounds that might give away his location, but nothing.

Another instinct followed, screaming at her to run the hell out of there and she quickly did that, strapping her sniper rifle on her back and getting off from the cold blanket of snow, marching off the ridge, only when she reached the bottom, she saw a silouethe from the corner of her eyes.

It was him, he was standing there on the entry of the forest that surrounded them.

It was like two animals coming face to face, neither of them moving an inch, waiting for the other to make the first move, which the man did. He just stared at her, like a predator that saw potential prey, and then he took off into a sprint in her direction.

This was bad. Xaviera had no combat skills what so ever and she knew she was no match for the tall and imposing stranger, who looked around 6'5 or so. She was only 5'4 for Christ Sake.

She did the first thing that came to mind; running, taking off into the opposite direction, straight up into the dense snowy forest. She wasn't one for brute strength, but she made it up with being an agile and fast runner, but just like the cheetah that was for small distances because she quickly lost speed.

She remembered the dart bows with venom in the pocket of her winter jacket. She may not pack deadly muscles, but she sure packs a sneaky and venomous attitude under the thick winter clothing.

She brakes to a halt and looks straight into the eyes of the man, who was just a few feet away from her, coming to a stop too, looking skeptical at her. Her hand was ready to throw the darts at him, aiming for the neck.

"One more step and you're dead. I don't suppose you would want a dose of Russell's Viper venom into your bloodstream. Even if you survive the venom, the effects are life-long term." she threatened him, getting into a defensive pose.

He looked like one of these big gray wolves that are really to pounce into the kill and that's what he did, dodging her venomous darts with precision, her blue eyes meet his own, and pain shot through her back as her rifle dug into her back.

He pinned her on one of the trees, both her hands in one of his so much bigger ones. She couldn't even move her hands an inch, that's how much power this man exhumed, and by the feeling of his grip, she knew he could break her wrists in a matter of seconds.

He had light brown hair in a faux hawk hairstyle and his eyes resembled hers a little in color, that icy blue. He also had scars, one on his right cheek, the other going from his forehead down to his left cheek, and another on the bottom of his jaw. What really caught her attention were his sharp K9s.....resembling so much of a wolf.

She looked up at him with eyes that would resemble a fierce cat, her lips pulled into a snarl, just like a cornered animal, hissing at him to let her go. His free hand moved slowly to her cheek, stroking the soft, cold skin with his rough one.

"Easy little mouse, easy...." he cooed, making alarm bells ring in her head, trembling like an animal that was ready to strike and she was ready to smash his precious jewels with her knee, only for a loud sound to pull on both their attention.

Xaviera's eyes widened as she saw the avalanche coming and they were done for, she blacked out as the snow-covered them. When she did woke up, she panicked and trashed, digging up to get out of the snow and breath, adrenaline coursing through her tiny body.

When her head peaked up from the snow, she took a deep breath, surprised even herself that she managed to survive this. Her eyes looked around and noticed one hand peeking up from the snow.

She stumbled on shaky legs there, digging the man from under the snow. One shaky hand checked his pulse; still alive, but unconscious and as she looked over his body she noticed that he had a deep gash on his biceps and his ankle was twisted.

'Just let him die and get back to the cottage.' That's what she first thought, but she also felt a sense of pity wash over her.

'Why help him? He was probably going to slice and dice you on the spot there.' She debated what to do.

He resembled so much more than a human, almost like he was at a moment a wounded wolf that she spotted in the snow. She groaned, her soft spot getting to her.

Finally deciding, she tried to put one of his arms over her shoulder to balance his weight, which wasn't an easy deal, because he was tall and very heavy and she was like a shrimp compared to him.

Her eyes took in the sky, signaling her that night was close and it was going to snow.

To say the least that the marching to her cottage was a challenge would have been an easy saying, it drowned all her energy, but her hope sparked up when she saw her salvation.

She got him inside and with her last effort, she dragged him upstairs to the bedroom. All she wanted was to sleep and recharge herself, but that was a luxury she couldn't afford at the moment. She needed to start the fire to heat up the cottage, treat his wounds, and hers; the ice really felt like blades.

Going downstairs, she put the logs inside the fireplace, lightening it up, rubbing her hands together, absorbing the heat the flames provided. Going back upstairs with a medical kit, she looked over his wounds; more urgent than hers, so she started to work, making sure to disinfect everything, especially the deep gash on his biceps, then stitching him up, her eyes looking over his naked torso, big scars littering it; from battles, assaults?

Just who was this man?

Finishing with him, she started to treat herself, hissing as she picked up tiny rocks and ice from her scratches on her forearms; she was absurdly lucky that she got off so easy from this disaster.

While she had patched him up, she got all his weapons off him; no way was she going to leave all the arsenal on him to kill her when he wakes up. She set all his weapons downstairs neatly, putting his big winter jacket and boots to dry off.

She was so hungry, but the need for sleep called louder, so she sat down on the fluffy blanket in front of the fireplace, letting her eyes close and bask in the flames, simple luxury in these mountains most couldn't afford.

====================================

When she woke up the first thing that she did was go outside and provided more wood for the fire, then she started to make breakfast, considering that it was daytime. She must have slept all night.

She prepared stew in the cauldron above the fireplace, the only source to cook, but it was better than eating cold stew directly from the can. It's a good thing she prepared herself for times like this, stashing up food for two months for this trip. She also made hot tea for her and the man upstairs.

It would take one hour for the delicious food to be finished, so she decided to check on her guest. Entering the bedroom, he was awake, her eyes taking in his sharp ones, still predatory, but not like back there in the forest. She walked to set the cup of warm tea on the nightstand.

On both fell a dead silence, until he decided to break it.

"Why did you save me?" he asked, voice deep and raspy, Russian accent very prominent.

Well, that was a first. No 'who are you?' or something cliche like that.

"Would you have preferred I let you die under the ice-cold snow and bleed to death?" she asked, a tiny drop of sarcasm lacing her voice, her voice calm, not fazed by his hard-cold gaze. She had seen far worse; she patched up, bears, wolves, lions, and tigers.

He was a little baffled, in a strangely good way.

"That still doesn't answer my question." he grumbled and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you a poacher?" she asked with her arms crossed over her chest.

He sat up in bed, his lips pulled into a dark smile, a glimpse of his K9's.

"A poacher of sorts...you can say dat." he replied, making her suspicious.

"If you touch any animal I'm gonna skin your scalp off." she told him, with no hesitation in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow at her words, grabbing the cup of tea from the nightstand she got for him.

"My hunting is different, little one....Humans are the real monsters. I think that we can agree." he explains, making her curious; well that assured her, plus it was new to hear such words from someone.

"Food is almost ready. I will bring the tray upstairs, since your ankle is twisted I don't want you stumbling down the stairs and twist your neck too." she said, leaving him be and going downstairs.

The food was almost ready, just five more minutes or so. Her eyes averted on the table full of maps, compasses, and files.

She still needed to finish her mission, but as she tried to find a frequency on the radio station for the weather, she knew this will have to wait; it was going to be a blizzard for the following days.

That could wait, at the moment her problem was the mysterious man upstairs.

She sighed.

'What had she just got herself into?'

#Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei Kulokova #slasher oc #original characters #Andrei x Xaviera?#We shall see in future chapters #Killer OCs

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x-de-con-struct-ed-x-moving · 3 years ago

Note

I don't know if you recall Finley, my TF OC (relictusscpu moved to bevyofbots now though), but if you want something to do, how about Join Me? If that's alright of course. If not that's okay :> Whatever you feel like doing.

Drabble Me!

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer.

"Do you play?"

The mech startles a bit, as if he hasn't been watching Ironhide just as intently - if more obviously - than Ironhide has been watching him. It makes Ironhide's lipplates quirk a bit, but he forces the thread of amusement back and patiently waits for Finley to answer, helm cocked to the side.

Finley glances from Ironhide to the holo-board set up in front of him, seeming cautious. Perhaps Ironhide should have asked to use it first, rather than just set up a game for himself sometime after Igneous and their... political connection had left the room to talk. He hadn't meant to overstep his boundaries as a guest.

Starting to feel a little guilty, Ironhide reaches out to turn the board off, an apology on the tip of his glossa, but before he can:

"I've... I've only ever played with my master."

Ironhide looks back up at Finley, waiting for further reply. When none seems to be forthcoming, Ironhide asks, "Yeah? How do you fare?"

"I have extensive knowledge of the game," Finley replies, still looking at the board. The way he says it has Ironhide quirking an optic ridge.

"...alright. How often do you win?"

A flash of embarrassment crosses the odd mech's faceplates, telling Ironhide all he needs to know. This time he can't help but smile.

"Do you want to play?"

Finley looks at Ironhide, blinking at him almost owlishly. As if that wasn't the offer all along.

Ironhide sits back in his chair, gesturing towards the board. "C'mon. I can't promise I'll take it easy on you, but it beats just sitting here waiting." His smile grows, turning cocky and crooked. "Who knows, maybe you'll learn something to surprise your master with next time you play."

Finley hesitates for several moments, almost long enough for Ironhide to take his silence as a no. He waits, though, and eventually, Finley comes closer and takes a seat on the other side of the board.

Ironhide offers him a sincere smile, glad the mech has taken him up on the offer. He resets the board, returning the pieces to their starting marks, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his servos steepled beneath his chin, expression playful yet already intense.

"Your move first."

#hope I did your boy OK! ^^#toomanycharacterselects #bevyofbots #:: 🔧 :: [ asks ]#:: 🔧 :: [ mun's art ]

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (4)

Chapter 4: Brother, Brother | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

5 of ?

They arrived at the moisture farm, the exact one that Watto told them. The domed abode stood out across the surrounding dunes, behind it were the suns hoisted in its point for high noon. As Anakin and Padmé approached, a dark-colored figure got into their better view—little did the Jedi knew that the figure posted outside was the droid he had created years ago.

“Oh!” startled, the droid turned around to face the visitors. “Hello, how may I be of service? I am C—”

“3PO?” Anakin squinted some more, unsure whether the sunlight was playing tricks on his already narrowed eyes.

The droid paused, its photoreceptors processing the face of the young man before him, and then it dawned on him.

“Could it be? The Maker!” the black droid exclaimed. “Master Ani, I knew you would return! Oh and Miss Padmé, oh my.”

At least Padmé was delighted to have been remembered by the droid she has not seen in a decade.

“Bless my circuits! I’m so pleased to see you both.”

“I’ve come to see my mother,” the droid’s maker said in the same steely tone he used when speaking with the Toydarian, affording no moment for the droid to celebrate this small reunion.

C3PO stuttered, unsure how to begin responding to that purpose.

“Yes, well, I do believe it is best I bring you inside.”

The droid stiffly turned around, expecting the human pair to follow, and they were escorted into the ground floor of the Lars homestead.

From the kitchen, Owen could hear C3PO speaking like a tour guide. He had figured it might have been the person he thought would come, he just didn’t realize it’d be today. Out of common courtesy, he—along with the Whitesun girl—came out of the kitchen to greet their guests.

“Master Owen, might I present to you the two most important visitors.”

“I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

“Owen Lars. And this is my girlfriend, Beru.”

Beru managed a smile to both visitors before softly saying “Hello.”

“I’m Padmé.”

“I guess I’m your stepbrother,” he swallowed. “I had a feeling you might show up someday.”

Anakin didn’t take that kindly, he had no emotional reaction to it—he’s just here for his mother.

“Is my mother here?” he demanded, stepping away from his apparent stepbrother.

“No, she’s not,” a gruff voice drew everyone’s attention to its direction, followed by the soft whirring of a hoverchair.

Cliegg had aged, though not quite well, given what had happened in the past. He extended a hand as he introduced himself.

“Shmi is my wife,” he added. “We should go inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

Owen quickly came to his father, taking the two handles protruding outward from the backrest of the chair.

“Where is your sister?”

“She hasn’t come back yet,”

“Well, she better come home quick.” Grumbled the elder Lars only within Owen’s earshot.

They all gathered at the dining table. Cliegg began with how he met Shmi, how he bought her, and eventually freed her. The old man chuckled once as he studied the boy’s features while he was listening in carefully, even while he stares at his hands clasped together.

“You know, it’s funny,” he began, the remark caught Anakin’s attention. “I never realize that you and Irele have the same eyes—but I think she resembles Shmi’s the most.”

Anakin’s eyes shifted shakily, his lips parted but no words escaped from it; he looked alternately between Cliegg and Owen, wordlessly demanding some clarification to what Cliegg said. Anakin blinked once, dramatically so, and finally managed to let out the words: “I… Irele?”

Everyone on that very table exchanged looks, but the other party was more confused and perhaps curious on who’s this Irele person that they don’t know of. Cliegg’s last words also got to Anakin and he decoded it quickly—but as he solved the minor riddle, more questions piled up after the answer. Has his mother given him a sister without his knowledge? Why hasn’t he felt her through the Force? Is she not gifted with the same abilities as he is?

“W-Where… Where is she?”

“She’s probably out in town with the other children her age. Irele is coping, you see, but I don’t think it’s not doing her much good. Overworking, finding and taking one too many odd jobs—more than she can handle—”

“Coping?” Anakin asked for elaboration.

Cliegg guessed there’s no way of sliding his way out of that question. They will come to the point in the conversation on what had happened to Shmi. The mood in the dining room changed significantly. A gloomy silence befell Owen and Beru as they waited for the head of the house to begin the tale.

“Your mother went out early—just before dawn—to pick mushrooms, like she always does. But this one time, she was ambushed by the Tusken Raiders, they had been prowling by the ridge waiting to raid the farms when there’s no one looking—but they saw your mother. They attacked her and took her with them, kept her hostage. And your sister, well…”

The elderly man sighed, taking and then letting out a deep breath, he attempts to continue.

“She left the house to search for her the moment she got out of bed. I found her woken up by a cold sweat, then she insisted that something was wrong. I trusted her, believed her, and let her go find her mother in the fields. She came back empty-handed, I had already prepared a search party. Those Tuskens walk like men, but they’re vicious, mindless monsters. About thirty of us went, only four of us came back. I’d be out there with them, but after I lost my leg… I just couldn’t ride anymore until I heal. I don’t want to give up on her, but she’s been gone for a month.”

The silence was distrupted by the sound of light footsteps, the only noise that rung across the homestead apart from their voices.

“I’m home!” a girl’s voice announced. “Dad? Owen?”

Her voice and her arrival caught the attention of both her family and the two visitors. Anakin stood up and stepped out so that he can see—and be seen—the rotunda. Just a meter and a half away from him was a girl of ten years—nearing eleven—standing from the stairs from where he came when he himself arrived in this house.

Irele was immediately taken aback by this stranger, not because it was a new face—but because she was bothered by how familiar he looked and felt. A good minute has passed and it dawned on her. She knows who this is.

Anakin examined the girl: black hair tied back into a ponytail, donning a woven scarf to protect her from the sands, and a pair of earthy hazel eyes hooded with a somber, unreadable gaze—nearly similar a hue to Shmi’s eye color. Looking at her was like seeing Shmi in her girlhood, for Irele could perhaps grow to be the spitting image of their mother. This is his sister, he thought, but he wasn’t sure what to do or how to react and interact with her—neither of them have known much about the other. And they’ve only just met! To Irele, it felt like she had waited a lifetime to meet him; she always had that feeling, perhaps over time, she didn’t anticipate him as much.

“Irele…?” Anakin uttered.

“H-Hi…” she stuttered shyly, reacting to her name.

Cliegg spun his hoverchair, “Irele, this is your brother. Your real brother.”

Irele’s brows furrowed, she blinked several times as she examined Anakin’s features. Perhaps she could not spot any resemblance yet, but eventually she would have—if she gave it time. As the siblings stared at one another; thoughts, questions, and even comments about each other’s appearances flood their minds.

What does she know about me? Did Mom ever tell her about me?

There’s something I feel about him… though it’s making me too nervous. It’s almost like it’s something bad… or maybe because he just looks a little mean.

Before giving a proper reaction or even speaking a single word, she sprang to her heels and fled to her room, flimsily holding her satchel loosely by the strap, dangling just inches away from the ground as she ran.

The adults dismissed it as bashfulness and also surprise. Anakin did not go after her anymore and went to the direction of the front door.

“Give her time,” Cliegg advised.

“Where are you going?”

Anakin’s eyebrows slightly pulled, but Owen did not notice, “To go find my mother.”

“Your mother’s dead son, accept it. There’s little hope she’s lasted this long.”

In fact, he didn’t. He could never ever. Then Cliegg sighed in defeat, knowing that this boy might be just as stubborn as his little sister. He reached for Anakin’s forearm and clutched it weakly, slightly startling him.

“If you can’t do that… at least talk to your sister.”

The sky had burned into a golden orange hue, sunset was nearing. Night will be upon them soon. Anakin found Irele in the workshop, he recognized some of the apparatus to be Shmi’s—apparently, she had brought those with her when she and Irele were bought.

As he was approaching her, he caught a glimpse of what she was doing—she was piecing together a sort of tech that seemed familiar, along with a little help from her friends in town.

“Irele, I…”

“She told me about you,” Irele matched her brother’s firm tone of voice, though the hint of uncertainty rang along her words. She did not look at him, she spoke to him while keeping her eyes on her handicraft. “A long time ago. I just didn’t think we’d meet at this time.”

Anakin got close enough to get a better look at her tinkering, he examined the small machine and discovered that she was retrofitting a podracer’s dashboard.

Attempting and hoping he’d establish a connection with her, he caved in to listen on what Irele has to say.

“She told me that you were a great racer. You won against Sebulba.”

“Sebulba? He still races?”

Irele turned to Anakin, not exactly surprised that he still remembers the cheating Dug, though a decade’s worth of not knowing anything happening in Tatooine would at least fog his memory. His sister nodded slowly and then returned to fixing the dashboard.

“No, it’s…” she trailed off when she got too focused on arranging the wires. “It’s from a customer in Anchorhead. I used to be in a podracer’s pit stop entourage, when I was like six.”

“Do they still race?”

She shook her head, and answered the question she knew was coming, “Accident. Can’t drive a pod with just one arm, huh?”

Her posture straightened, she moved the magnifying lens away from her, and then secured the dashboard in a leather sleeve before settling it down neatly in the center of the workbench. Irele finally afforded a good long look at her big brother.

Big brother… kinda weird to call him that.

“Ani,” she uttered, though she meant it as a practice of getting used to addressing him when talking to him. She didn’t really intend to call him, but he looked at her anyway. There was a pause before she continued.

“How much did Dad tell you—about Mom?”

It slightly baffled Anakin how casually she called Cliegg her father, he cannot blame her anyway if this is the father figure she grew up with.

“Just enough for me to know,” Anakin answered.

She hummed. Then Anakin decided to ask the question that has been lingering in his mind. If this was his birth sister, was she born in the same way he was?

“Irele, perhaps you can tell me something,” he began.

Detecting the seriousness in his tone, she swiveled the chair to face him, propping her elbow on the table. Staring back at him with those hazel eyes that he cannot gaze upon without remembering Shmi—because he could definitely see his mother within his sister—he licked his lips before speaking.

“Cliegg isn’t really your father, is he?”

His sister stared at him some more with squinted eyes, bobbed her head to the side as she got the idea of his question. She wordlessly shook her head; when she did, then Anakin’s presumptions have been realized—she was exactly like him. Within their moment together of just conversing, he could feel the Force flowing in her, although it was faint and seemingly dormant. In that case, her Force-sensitivity might be still untapped—what seemed to be a small stream on a quiet summer morning will eventually turn out to be a powerful, raging dam. And so it begs the question: will he report her to the Jedi Council?

“He told you about the Tuskens, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…” Irele’s eyelids drooped as she looked randomly on the floor, avoiding her brother’s gaze. Another moment passed, both siblings were inept in speaking to one another casually—unlike how Irele is to Owen—but then she lifted her head again, and this time, she looked at her real big brother with pleading eyes, suggesting a sense of longing for their mother and sadness. The latter being a dangerous emotion to dwell on. “You’ll bring her back, won’t you… Anakin?”

Then at that moment, Anakin was both determined and burdened to keep such a promise. He was confident and hopeful that he would rescue Shmi, but with such a motivation fueled by the fear of loss, Irele was beginning to sense something ominous from him. In the back of her head, she was regretting what she asked of him. She saw a shadow loom over Anakin, as dark as his long robes that sweep the sand as he strode. Her heart pumped slowly and heavily, it suffocated her and made her nervous.

There’s something not right with him. Something… bad. She thought to herself, her fingers twitched with anxiety. It’s too late to take that back. Anakin has sealed a contract forged from her behest—which was also his. Now she wanted to stop him, because she know something bad was going to happen—executing the same foresight she had for Shmi.

“Anakin, are you alright?” Irele asked, and that seemed to snap him back to reality.

He stammered as he answers, “Yes. I… I just blanked out, I guess.”

“Right…” she groaned with a growing suspicion. “Just… Just don’t lose sight of what you came for.”

Her vague warning would allude to the preceding events. Anakin took her words to heart, and his being a Jedi gave him the advantage to read people better than most, to analyze their motives and desires. Hearing Irele say something like that hints her Jedi-like abilities: her foresight, which was something Qui Gon had noted of Anakin himself when he was still a child.

“I won’t,” he said with conviction, and then he managed a smile in the hopes of easing her spirits. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back.”

Irele’s thin lips pursed and watched her big brother turn around to leave her be in the workshop. When his back turned to her, that smile instantaneously melted away; her stomach slightly churned at the sight of his robes shadowing his figure—he looked broader and more intimidating, and quite ominous.

She had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling about this.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x fem oc #cal kestis x irele skywalker #cal kestis x irele skywalker fic #fem oc #irele skywalker #skywalker! oc #force-sensitive! oc #anakin's younger sister #darth vader's secret apprentice #long-lost sibling #anon request #anon #requested by anon #fic request #anon fic request

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sparrowwritings · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy 14 Writing Challenge Day Five: “Luck is believing you’re lucky.” - Tennessee Williams

Day Four -- Masterpost -- Day Six

This one has many OC cameos from my and my friends’ characters. Not all of them get named (and the PoV character can’t “see” more than silhouettes for Reasons) so I��m gonna put the list (and links to pictures) of OCs right here before the fic alongside links to the tumblrs of those who own them so you can go check them out.

Balthasar and Catrene Luvere (also known as Cat) as well as the briefly mentioned Fortunato DeFleur (Ser Not-appearing-in-this-fic) belong to @thedovahcat Roger has also belonged to her from the beginning as a reminder.

The pirate miqo’te lady is R’owahn and she belongs to @scoobydew4u

The polite midlander lady is Helena Bellveil and belongs to @chocolatebunnycake

The elezen lady who (rightly) wants nothing to do with this nonsense is Atalanta Sellecerre and belongs to corvusyn (this is to his twitter)

And last but certainly not least the miqo’te asshole who’s late to the party is A’ndru Lowrey and belongs to @clockworkpriest

Rennis and Bailey Gatlin as well as Lara are all my babies, tho.

Apologies if anyone sounds OOC!

One encounters many things on life’s journey. Particularly when one is not bound to the same rules that most people live by. Sometimes what one encounters is a particularly entertaining--if somewhat mundane--moment in time as one wanders through life.

Balthasar had been sitting quietly at a table to himself. The hood of his short cloak covered all except a few strands of his sandy hair and his staff was set on a wall next to him as he took in the atmosphere of the Drowning Wench. It was just past noon so the usual lunch crowds had died off, leaving some folk behind chit-chatting as the barmaids cleaned the now empty tables. He was people watching, which to an outside observer would seem impossible considering his blindness. That fact had yet to discourage him, though.

The large doors to the tavern swung open and Balthasar turned his head to face the sound. Using a sense beyond sight, his lip curled slightly upwards as he observed (a passable if inaccurate word for what he was doing) the newest two midlander guests. One was tall, armor clad and bearing a shield on his back. His bearing was not nearly as confident as most others similarly outfitted. In fact, he seemed overly cautious of his surroundings though that did not prevent a minor stumble as he almost missed one of the steps leading into the main dining area. His companion was far smaller, though one would be mistaken in thinking she was the same height, for all she was able to keep the armor-clad one from falling on his face. Her outfit was a mix of leather and cloth typical of someone who uses magic in combat regularly. She was the more bold of the two, stepping smoothly around the people relocating themselves and leading her companion in something of a dance to attempt to follow suit.

They barely managed to sit at one of the larger tables without injury, though it wasn’t this display that Balthasar was interested in. The color of ordinary objects escaped his “sight” and so didn’t matter to him nearly so much as the aether that he actually used to “see” his surroundings. These two individuals were like twin suns amongst the twinkling stars of the other patrons. Touched by Hydaelyn herself. The Warriors of Light.

Not for the first time, he was thankful for the cloth covering his eyes. He still couldn’t look at the two of them directly, but Balthasar could keep a metaphorical eye on them at least.

As he was busy contemplating how to potentially approach them, a steadily growing argument brought his attention to the people seated on the other side of the table that the Warriors of Light had sat at. It took a bit of concentration to focus on the speakers instead of the brightness at the edge of his vision, but he managed. Two lalafell--one significantly taller than the other, even while sitting--were talking with a young miqo’te woman who, from the sound of it, was on the verge of outright hissing at them.

“Look I’m not sayin’ it ain’t possible, all I’m sayin’ is that ya can’t just force luck ta work for ya like that.” The shorter of the lalafell, a male from his tone, snorted. “Luck’s just somethin’ that happens, that’s all. No controllin’ nothin’.”

“Oh come on,” The tail of the miqo’te woman swished behind her. “You literally can’t say that when you’ve fucking met the best example of being lucky. It’s the only explanation to why he hasn’t gotten killed yet.”

“Lowrey don’t count, Cat. Especially cuz if that’s the case then it’d get cancelled out by Fortun’s lack of it.”

“It does seem weird that he’d start a business when he’s got the worst every day luck I’ve ever seen in my life…” The taller lalafell, female in tone, observed. It seemed to be mostly for her own sake then to forward any conversation.

“Then how do you explain it, Ren?” The miqo’te woman apparently named Cat demanded.

“I don’t know but it sure as shit ain’t somethin’ as stupid as ‘luck is believin’ yer lucky.’ He’s fed ya more bullshit an’ ya say ya don’t follow anythin’ he says but CLEARLY yer doin’ it.” Ren, the shorter lalafell jabbed a finger into the table in front of him to emphasize his point.

“I dunno, it’s sound logic t’me.” Another patron spoke up. All eyes at the table (including those of the Warriors of Light) turned towards the speaker. She was another miqo’te woman, but compared to Cat her outfit spoke more of pirate than former street urchin. Not that there was any shortage of either in Limsa Lominsa. “Can’t tell you how many times someone I know ought’ve died and claimed to live thanks to a charm they already thought was lucky. If that’s not luck because of believing in luck, I dunno what is.”

Ren let out a frustrated groan. “Yeah but what about all th’ other times that ain’t life-’r-death when th’ charm didn’t work? Like shit breakin’ as they sat or losin’ a job or th’ like? Ya wanna call that havin’ luck cuz ya believe yer lucky?”

“My apologies for intruding, but I must concur with the gentleman here.” While the discussion had been happening, another midlander woman had made her way from her table to where the others were talking. She gave a short, polite nod at the sudden attention before continuing to speak. “Luck cannot be objectively observed, and so there is no reason to conclude that one can control the appearance of it merely by belief.”

“THANK you.” The relief in Ren’s voice was obvious.

“As such, it’s difficult to say that luck even does exist.” The woman pushed at the ridge of her nose which Balthasar took to mean she was pushing a pair of spectacles back into place.

“Luck definitely exists, ma’am.” The pirate miqo’te woman cut in.

“I have certainly observed instances where the confluence of events have led to ultimately positive outcomes. I also do not deny that some people seem to attract more positive outcomes with seemingly no work put into the effort. Objectively speaking, however, it’s impossible to prove such a thing as luck exists. Preparedness for any eventuality is far more reliable.”

“Well duh it’s more reliable but that’s not the fucking point!” Cat stood up from her seat to point at the woman.

More people seemed to be drawn into the conversation like water down a drain, whether or not they were interested in also participating. The door opened again and Balthasar watched as an elezen woman in what appeared to be dancer’s gear strode into the Drowning Wench. She paused, cocked her head and seemed to listen for a few seconds before turning and avoiding the whole discussion by walking along the edge of the crowd towards the desk where the guild leves were issued. Within moments she’d received her assignment and left the building without a second glance behind her. No one else appeared to have noticed.

When he turned his attention back to the conversation, more folk were actively adding their voices to the chaos. The only ones who didn’t seem to be participating were the Warriors of Light. This didn’t last, as the lalafell woman from the start of it all turned towards them like a ship turns for a lighthouse in the dark. “You two’ve been pretty quiet this whole time.” She made a gesture at her companions, who had both gotten up though the lalafell man stood on his chair to attempt to be of the same eye level as everyone else. “Anything you wanna add about luck?”

Balthasar steeled himself to get a more direct look towards the brightness of the twin aethers. He “looked” just in time for the silhouettes of the two to look at each other and shrug. The female Warrior of Light said, “I dunno, I’ve always seen luck ebb and flow like the tides. One minute you’re celebrating a victory over a tough foe, the next a natural disaster happens.”

The male Warrior of Light said, “I mean, sure I’ve made it through a ton of things by a hair, but I’ve never felt lucky while doing it. Does that count?”

Before she could reply, the door opened once more, though this time with a bang. Balthasar, quietly relieved to have something else to focus on, took in the appearance of an older miqo’te man at the same time as the crowd did. He wore nearly all leather, with fur coming out of the collar of his jacket. The man was all swagger as he raised his arms to each side and declared, “Guess who’s the luckiest motherfucker on the planet?”

Dead silence greeted him.

The spell was broken when Cat slammed her hand against the table and growled, “You asshole! The one time you could’ve been fucking useful!” After that, more chaos than even the previous discussion had garnered ensued.

Balthasar smiled and continued sitting in his perch. He’d keep observing until the entertainment died down or the Warriors of Light had finally made their exit. Mundane though this scene was, it was yet another affirmation that life would always keep him guessing in spite of his vast amounts of time spent living.

How quaint.

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floosies · 4 years ago

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Beechwood Park

pairing: 60′s au (Richard Madden x oc!poc!fem!Reader)

summary: In the late 60′s Cynthia was struggling model who’d just about reached her wits end and succumb to her parents wishes for her to continue her studies. Mr. Madden would say otherwise though.

warnings: age gap, smut, cursing, 18 + material

Series Masterlist

A/N: I think I hit the jackpot with this (fingers crossed though)

Actress inspo for the character is Judy Pace, she was well known in the 60s.

1. Humble Beginnings and Pink Ribbons

In 1965 Cynthia Ridge was an academic miracle sent from the heavens above to her family. A true prodigy of the finer things in life, she’d learned french, could read latin, and played piano as her pass times. Where her parents assumed this would grant her open doors to the thing they could never have themselves.

Little did they know that what she really wanted was a break. Her friends were going to parties and dating boys while she sat at home writing honor roll essays. However, her birthday arrived in early November. With it came a moment of fate or pure luck. She was out shopping with her cousin when the woman who would become her first agent/manager came across her.

Ingrid Beaumont was a french woman who’d made her living working for modeling agencies in Europe. One look at Cynthia and she knew there was the muse for the upcoming year’s fashion trends. It took a lot of pleading and negotiating with the teenager’s parents. At the end of it all though, she’d gotten herself a star client.

The first months were interesting, there was difficulty in the states. Getting her photo shoots was a nightmare, and Cynthia blamed the thinking of most people on it, but in the U.K.? Well it was different there, very different. When she did book a shoot in America, the copies were sent to a sister agency in London. By then she began to shoot ad campaigns for catalogs in the U.K.

At home tensions grew though. Her parents despised the french agent and what she’d made of their academically prized daughter. They fought constantly, so much so that by the end of the year she’d had enough. Cynthia knew deep down it was wrong, perhaps maybe even too far, but she couldn’t risk losing what made her feel happy. With the help of Mrs. Beaumont she was able to enroll at a college in England.

Her parents would be under the impression that their daughter would be receiving a well rounded education and degree in the foreign nation. The truth could not be further from that assumption however. Instead she went to school for two semesters, meeting her closest friend Stella Darwin, with whom she moved in with after dropping out.

Cynthia’s modeling paychecks helped ease some worries at the start. It seemed that things were great for the two girls in London. Stella had graduated and worked at a high end boutique in Soho. So much for being a writer, nevertheless she hoped with the money she saved she would be able to make it happen in a couple of years.

It was a whirlwind for two years. Countless parties and events, meeting people over drinks. There was so much traveling too. Of course it was all courtesy of the famed Cynthia and her modeling career which gave them everything. The menagerie was lavish, it was everything any of the two could have hoped for.

Neither one of them could have expected what would come though. How the agency would close down and leave the young American girl empty handed. Or Stella’s lavish Soho flat being taken from her through an eviction notice. Nevertheless, the girls persisted and finally came the breakthrough. After months of sleuthing she had found an agency looking for talent and she wouldn’t let the chance pass up. Without a hesitation she made a meeting with the head of the agency.

She’d been countless catalogs and even had the pleasure of meeting Princess Anne once. Yet not even the royals could save her now. It was early summer and the small flat she shared with Stella was beginning to become a stuffy chaotic mess of dresses and empty bottles of liquor. Stella was bent over the windowsill smoking her midday cigarette, “maybe going back home to Maryland wouldn’t be so bad love,” of course Cynthia gasped at the very thought. She looked at herself one final time in the mirror, “Maryland is a place I hope I never see again. Stella, darling, wish me luck. I have a good feeling about this interview today.” Her friend giggled a bit and kissed her cheek before she headed out to the spectacle that was the busy London streets.

The building was right in the heart of the city, small and disclosed. Inside was front desk and a small hallway. A blonde secretary typed away on her typewriter, “morning. Can I help you darling?” She spoke kindly, Cynthia nodded explaining she had a meeting with Mr. Egerton.

Inside his office Mr. Egerton was having his lunch break with an old friend. The two men cracked on about some event they’d both attended the previous weekend, “it was an absolute snooze fest. The guest list must have been mixed up with an elderly home’s check in sheet.” His friend, Richard, continued to joke. They reached a moment of quiet and that’s when his phone rang, he’d forgotten about the meeting with a potential new client.

Richard could see the expressions on his friend’s face changing as he hung up his office phone. An intrigued look on his face formed as his friend began to clean the lunch off of his desk, “you’re in a hurry to clean aren’t ya? Is she a client or a tango dancer?” He looked at Richard with an upset face, “oh come on Taron I’m only joking. With a sigh he finished cleaning up the small mess and fixed his tie, “this girl is a potential client with connections to the royals if you could believe it.” Now this was interesting, “really? A model who’s friends with the royals, is she the daughter of a lord?” Taron lit a cigarette before answering his friend.

He picked up the phone and got his secretary on the line, “tell her I’m ready please Holly,” as quickly as he spoke he hung up. Richard was still waiting for an answer, “soo...lord?” Taking a drag and a puff Taron answered, “actually. She’s American if you could believe it.” He had to see who this girl was, “mind if I stay and meet her?” A knock came from his door, “you might have no choice but to. Come in,” and there she was. In a pink mini dress and a smile that could make any man weak at the knees, Richard had already fallen for this girl and he didn’t even know her.

#richard madden #poc!reader #oc!female #60s au #robb stark #bodyguard netflix #judy pace #nsfk

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summahsunlight · 5 years ago

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This Way Became My Journey, Ch. 7

Word count: 3506

Pairings: Janeway/Chakotay, Paris/OC

The Val Jean and Voyager had entered a stranded orbit around the fifth planet where their new friend had informed them that they would find the Ocampa. Captain Janeway had made preparations for an away team to beam down to the surface to search for Torres and Kim and had ordered Sarah Barrett, who had been given the pleasure of being their guest's escort, to retrieve their guest and bring him to the transporter room. For the most part she had spent it running him around the ship to see absolutely everything. He talked nonstop and constantly was asking questions about how the ship worked. Sarah's best skills were not in engineering but she managed to answer them to the best of her limited abilities. The whole ordeal had been utterly exhausting and it wasn't even past noon yet.

She tapped at the panel outside their guest's quarters to let him know she was there, but there was no response. Using her security clearance she opened the door.

"Hello?" Sarah called out as she stepped into the quarters that had been assigned to Neelix. "Mister Neelix?"

She glanced around the room and caught sight of the dinning table. There were several vases of water stacked on top of each other like children's blocks and plates of half eaten food every where. Glancing astonished at the sight, she leaned down to get a better look, allowing her sapphire eyes to study each vase. Mister Neelix must not have seen a replicator before today.

From the bathroom she could hear singing, although it wasn't words, just sounds, and she could hear the splashing of water. Straightening up, she turned about and stepped inside the bathroom, and immediately shut her eyes. Neelix was in the bathtub, soaking in a mountain of bubbles, and had no qualms about her walking in on him. "Sir?" she asked, nervously.

"Ah, Miss Barrett! Come in! Please, come in! I can hardly see your pretty face!" Neelix said happily from the tub. Sarah stepped into the room further but did not open her eyes. "I want to thank you for your hospitality, Miss Barrett. I must admit, I've never had access to a food… repmala...replicator before."

Sarah swallowed hard. "Really? I would never have guessed that."

"And to immerse my self in water, do you know what joy this is?" Neelix grabbed for another large vase of water and poured it down his throat, not caring if he wasted any. "No one around here wastes water in this manner," he told her, "a good sand scrub, that's the best we can hope for."

"I'm happy that you're having a grand time, but we've just arrived at the fifth planet. Captain Janeway needs your assistance," Sarah replied. She heard some splashing about in the water and assumed that the sounds were caused because Neelix stood up.

"Oh, could you hand me the towel," he asked her.

If it wasn't so hot in that room her face probably would have paled. "What?"

"The towel, Miss Barrett, oh don't be shy! I don't bite!"

"It's not you biting me that I'm worried about," Sarah said, reaching out with her hands and feeling for the towel. When she found it she grasped it tightly and held it out to her side. She heard Neelix move about as he snatched the towel from her hand.

The alien began wrapping the towel about his body and drying off, not bothered at all that he was wearing only a towel in the presence of a stranger. "On the large southern continent you'll find a range of extinct volcanoes. Follow the foothills north until you discover a dry riverbed. You'll find an encampment there."

For some reason she got the feeling that Neelix was leading them in a different direction for his own purposes, but she did not speak up about it, not yet anyways. "Do you think that's where our people are?"

"It's not impossible," Neelix replied. Again there was a rippling of a feeling that he was lying to her. "Maybe… perhaps not, but we will find them. We'll need several containers of water to bring, for barter of course." He eyed her science blue uniform for a moment and his finger traced her combadge in midair. "Do these replicators make clothing as well?"

"Yes," she said simply, finally feeling safe to open her eyes.

"Well it make me a uniform like yours?"

"No, it will not," She lied, " However I suggest that you dress quickly. I'll inform Captain Janeway of what you just told me."

Neelix went off to get dressed and Sarah nearly ran out of the quarters. Once out in the safe confines of the corridor she tapped her combadge. "Barrett to Janeway."

"Janeway here."

"I've just spoken to Mister Neelix. He says that we should travel to the southern continent, apparently there is an encampment near a dried up river bed," Sarah told her commanding officer. "He also recommended that we have several containers of water to use for barter. Captain, I get the feeling that he is not being entirely truthful with us, but perhaps we'll get more answers when we beam down to the surface."

"Understood; I want you and Mister Neelix to meet us in Transporter Room Two."

"Yes ma'am," Sarah replied as the doors to Neelix's quarters swished open. The alien stepped out wearing a colorful patterned suit. "Mister Neelix and I are ready. We'll meet you in Transporter Room Two, Barrett out." She tapped her combadge and then remembered she had something to give their guest. She held her hand out, in it was another silver and gold combadge, the same one that she had on her uniform.

"This if for you Neelix. It's so we can keep track of you, just in case anything goes wrong down there. It also allows you to communicate with Voyager directly," Sarah placed it in his palm. "Don't lose it, it could mean your life," she told him as she turned away and began to make for the turbo lift.

"My life?" Neelix sputtered. "What kind of missions do you Federation go on anyways?"

She chuckled as they stepped inside the lift. "Deck Four," she told the computer.

Neelix was nervously placing the combadge onto his suit jacket. "This is just a safety precaution right? I mean, you were joking when you said that this could mean my life?"

"No, I wasn't," Sarah replied as the lift came to a halt and the doors opened. "This is so we will have the ability to transport you off the planet at a moment's notice. Sometimes that moment could be just before the room you're in explodes. The chances of that happening though are slim, I wouldn't worry about it."

He didn't look entirely convinced as they stepped into the transporter room. Janeway was waiting there with Chakotay, Paris, and Tuvok. Neelix looked even more nervous when Janeway instructed Sarah to arm her self. These people were not taking the situation lightly, and they shouldn't, not for where Neelix was about to take them. The phasers were probably a good thing to be carrying. But the presences of their weapons might complicate his plan.

"Alright, let's get moving," Janeway ordered the group. They all got on the transporter pad swiftly and once they were all in place, Janeway gave the transporter chief the order to energize.

They rematerialized in what would be the equivalent of no where on Earth. There was no plant life to speak of, it was dry and hot, the sun beating down on their backs. It was a desert just like all their scans had told them, yet it was more desolate than any of them could have imagined. Turning about, Janeway and her away team saw the encampment that Neelix had told them about. Several alien ships were parked near by, and she could see beings crying out in shock at their sudden appearance and run back towards the settlement.

Janeway looked over her shoulder at Neelix, who stepped up to her side. They began walking towards the settlement while Tom Paris remarked, "Why would anyone want to live in a place like this?"

"The rich cormaline deposits are very much in demand," Neelix answered him, his orange eyes scanning the settlement, as if he was looking for someone particular.

"Do the Ocampa use it for barter?" Chakotay asked.

"Not the Ocampa, the Kazon-Ogla," Neelix said.

"The Kazon-Ogla, who are the Kazon-Ogla?" Janeway asked, confused.

Neelix gestured towards the settlement that they were walking towards. "They are." A group of Kazon had gathered at the entrance of the settlement, some were brandishing weapons, cautiously watching as the group of Starfleet officers, a Maquis commander, and a Talaxian trader came closer to their home. They resembled klingons in appearance, with cranial ridges and darker pigmented skin, the most common appearing to be a copper tone. They had dark hair that grew in chunks or was specifically parted in several places, perhaps, Janeway thought, as some form of hierarchy.

"I thought you were taking us to the Ocampa?" Barrett asked, walking alongside Janeway. She had known Neelix was lying to them and even though she had told the Captain she had such feelings, she had not insisted that they wait until they knew of Neelix's true motives. Now they could be walking into a dangerous situation that had very little to do with Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres. "When we asked that you take us to the Ocampa, we meant we wanted to be taken to the Ocampa, not on a detour."

"The Kazon sects control this part of the quadrant," Neelix informed Janeway, ignoring Barrett. "Some have food some have water, they all trade and they all kill each other for it."

They had made it to the gathering of Kazon. Janeway, like Barrett, wasn't too pleased that she had been misled. "I thought you said the Ocampa had our people?"

The Kazon closed in around them, the group was pressed tightly together as Neelix cried out, "My friends! It's good to see you again!" The aliens weren't too happy to see him however, scooping him up and carrying him away while the others took the away team's weapons, pushing them all to the ground. Neelix was thrown against a wall, the group that had grabbed him snarling at him.

"I must speak with your Maje," Neelix said, "the ever wise Jabin!" The Kazon cocked their weapons at him as another Kazon made their way across a balcony above them, stirred by the noise of the mob. Neelix spotted him and cried out, "Jabin!"

The newcomer didn't look pleased to see Neelix as he made his way down towards the group. The away team began to feel nervous, more so than they already were. Things were not going quite as they had planned they were going to go. Neelix was still sputtering away, hoping that the Kazon whose guns were trained on him wouldn't fire. "Water Jabin! I have water! To replace all that I borrowed! Show them Mister Paris," he cried desperately.

Tom reached into the knapsack that he was carrying and produced a small canteen of water, holding it out to Jabin. The Kazon snatched the canteen up as Neelix told them that the ship they came on could make water out of thin air. Jabin opened the canteen and sniffed its contents before taking a large sip of the precious liquid. He handed the canteen off to the person nearest him, dark eyes looking at Paris, the closest male to him, and asked, "You have more?"

Janeway tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Voyager. Energize." Two large containers appeared out of nowhere to the Kazon and they quickly grabbed whatever they could to go and gather the water up, completely forgetting about Neelix. Jabin watched astounded as his people moved towards the large containers. "There's more where that came from, if you can help us." Even though Neelix had led them to the Kazon and not the Ocampa, Janeway was going to make best of the situation.

Jabin looked at her. "How can we help someone so powerful that they can create water out of thin air?"

Janeway eyed Neelix for a moment. "This man lead us here suggesting that we might find a people called the Ocampa," she noticed that a girl, with short cropped blonde hair, and pointed ears, had appeared near by where Neelix was standing. She looked like she had been beaten and it made Janeway's skin crawl. "Do you know where they are?"

The Kazon leader looked at Janeway curiously. "Ocampa?" he repeated before turning about and pointing towards the girl that was standing a ways behind Neelix. "She is Ocampa! Why would you be interested in such worthless creatures? They only live nine years. They make poor servants; we caught her when she wandered to the surface."

"To the surface? You mean they live underground?" Janeway questioned.

"The entity in space that gives them food and power, also gives them sole access to this planet's only source of water, two miles below the surface," Jabin answered, pointing towards the energy pulses that were going towards the mountains.

"This same entity has abducted two of our people," Janeway replied. "We believe that they might be with the Ocampa."

"There's no way to get to them, we've tried," Jabin answered, lowering his body down to be at eye level with Janeway. "The entity has established some kind of subterranean barrier, we cannot penetrate."

Barrett and Chakotay were thinking the same thing, but Chakotay voiced it first, "But she got out."

"Occassionally some of them do find their way to the surface. We don't know how, but the Ocampa seal the tunnels afterwards," Jabin said, stuffing all of their weapons onto his own belt.

"Maybe she can help these good people find a way down," Neelix offered a bit too slyly for the likes of Janeway or Barrett. He was up to something and they both hoped that it wasn't going to cost them.

Jabin laughed, and then snarled, "You'd be wasting your time. I've used ever method of persuasion I know to get her to help us. She won't!"

"She's worthless to you! Let us trade you water for this scrawny little thing," Neelix replied.

"I'd be more interested in obtaining this technology that allows you to create water out of thin air," Jabin said.

Janeway made eye contact with Barrett. Protocol didn't exactly forbid Janeway to share technologly, if it was in fair trade and a benefit to the people receiving it, however, the Captain didn't know much about the Kazon, and therefore felt uncomfortable about giving them access to Federation technology. "That would be difficult," Janeway answered, truthfully. "It's integrated into our ship's systems."

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than did Neelix suddenly run forward and grab Jabin. He was holding a small phaser that could be concealed in the palm of your hand and the away team was shocked when it was produced. "Tell them to drop their weapons!" Neelix ordered Jabin, jabbing the phaser in the fleshy part of the Kazon's neck.

"Do it!" Jabin cried. The Kazon who had rushed to his rescue put their weapons down.

The away team jumped to their feet, Chakotay retrieving all of their weapons from Jabin's belt. Each member pointed the phaser at the group of Kazon, but kept the setting on stun. Janeway only hoped that they could get out of there without any weapons firing.

There was going to be no such luck. Neelix pushed Jabin away from him and pointed his own weapon right at the containers of water, warning the Kazon to get out of the way. He then fired the weapon, puncturing the water containers. The liquid came gushing out and the Kazon rushed to get what they could before it all emptied out and was sucked up by the dry ground.

The Ocampa girl was joining them now, as instructed by Neelix. "I strongly suggest that you get us out of here," he implored to Janeway, who tapped her combadge and told Voyager to beam them all up.

Once on the safety of the transporter pad, Janeway and the rest of the away team put their weapons away, making their way off the transporter pad. No one was really paying attention to Neelix and the Ocampa, until they heard Neelix say, "My dearest, didn't I promise I'd save you."

Tuvok frowned, Paris and Chakotay looked amused, while Janeway looked at the couple,shocked. Barrett, on the other hand, wasn't too surprised, she had a feeling before that Neelix had another plan other than leading them to the Ocampa, but rescuing a lover was not what had been at the top of her list of things he could possibly be doing.

"Perhaps we should get our new guest to sickbay," Tuvok suggested, leading Neelix and the Ocampa girl off of the transporter pad.

When they were gone Janeway looked at Barrett. "Do you believe his sole purpose for helping us was to help her?"

Barrett nodded her head. "Yes, he was probably looking for ways to help her escape the Kazon and were were plopped in his lap, needing to get to the the fifth planet and with far superior technology than anyone in this sector of space."

Janeway shook her head. She wasn't about to let Neelix's little deception of them slid; he was going to help them now whether he liked it or not. "Let's prepare another away mission to the planet, only this time we're going to the Ocampa and no detours. Maybe the girl we just helped rescue will feel slightly inclined to help us in return. Let's go join our guests in sickbay."

Paris, Chakotay, and Barrett followed the Captain out of the transporter room and made their way to the turbo lift. When they arrived in sickbay they found the Doctor cleaning the young Ocampa up, healing the cuts and bruises on her face, and Tuvok scolding Neelix, like he was one of the Vulcan's children.

"If you had told us what you had planned, we might have anticipated your irrational behavior," the Vulcan was saying, in a crisp even tone.

"Irrational? We got out of there didn't we?" Neelix snapped.

"Barely," Barrett muttered under her breath as the young Ocampa sat up on the biobed. Janeway flashed her a warning glare. She knew enough about her new commanding officer that the look meant it was time to keep her mouth shut. Pressing her lips together, she moved back a little, allowing Janeway to take the lead.

"Excuse me," the Ocampa said. "Don't blame Neelix."

The Doctor looked annoyed as the group closed in around the surgical biobed. "That's enough; this is a sick bay not a conference room. Everyone except my patient is to leave immediately."

Janeway voiced the words that both Barrett and Paris wanted too. "Computer, end medical holographic program." The Doctor gave her a surprised look before he disappeared, dropping an instrument on the floor. Janeway inched her way closer to the biobed, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

"I never should have gone to the surface, I'm too curious," the Ocampa said as the Captain put the palms of her hands on the biobed. "I'm told it's my worst failing."

Neelix shook his head. "No no, it's a wonderful quality, you're most endearing."

"Would you be willing to take us underground to look for our missing crew?" Janeway asked her hopefully.

"I'm afraid that Jabin was right, there's no way to get down. The tunnel I came out has been sealed."

"We don't need a tunnel. We have the ability to transport there directly," Janeway told her. The girl looked genuinely curious at this statement.

"Captain," Tuvok's voice came from somewhere behind Janeway, "our sensors didn't pick up any indication of an underground civilization, the subterranean barrier that Jabin described maybe responsible. It might also block our transporter."

"There are breaches in the security barrier where it's begun to decay. That's how I got out."

Janeway mulled over her next course of action and turned to look at Tuvok. "Have the transporter room began a sweep for any breaches that we might be able to transport through." The Vulcan nodded his head and left the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

"Kes can tell you where to go, but now that she's free, we're leaving this system together," Neelix told Janeway. The Captain realized that was the first time she had ever heard the girl's name.

"Neelix," Kes said, forcefully. "These people rescued me."

"I rescued you!" Neelix replied, hotly.

"With their help; it would be wrong not to help them now."

Janeway smiled and ordered everyone, including Neelix and Kes back to the transporter room, and to prepare for another journey down to the planet, this time, however, they would be going underground.

#star trek voyager #star trek voyager fanfiction #kathryn janeway #chakotay #tom paris #sarah barrett (oc)#b'elanna torres #harry kim #neelix #kes #the doctor (emh)#janeway x chakotay #tom paris x ofc

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kaychawrites · 6 years ago

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By The Light Of The Moon

Fairy Tail Fanfic AU

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia, Gray Fullbuster, Fuyumi Dragneel (OC), Jellal Fernandez, Erza Scarlet, etc

Genre: Supernatural, Romance

Rating: Mature

Tag List: @cobblepottantrum

Chapter 1

The forest is quiet as the moon filters through the trees. He can feel his blood pumping through his veins as he runs quietly along the forest floor, the moonlight turning his coat silver. Behind him he can hear her keeping up with his pace. The night air is fresh and he inhales, giving his body the oxygen it needs to run faster. Soon, the trees break along a ridge and he slows to take in the sight. Magnolia… its beauty cast in the light of the moon.

She comes and sits next to him looking out at the town. “Natsu, we should head down now. I don’t smell any patrols in the area. We need to make use of this chance while we can.”

He looks down the path, breathing deep through his nose. She is right; he doesn’t smell any patrols either. He stands, shaking himself before taking off down the mountain with her hot on his heels.

%%%%%

In town, a young woman stands on the porch of a grand house, her blonde hair glowing in the moonlight. The house behind her is bustling with her father’s guests. She would much rather sit out on the porch and enjoy the full moon then be at her father’s side, being seen but not heard. Just a pretty little prize for him to show off.

She hears the door open behind her. “Princess?” Her maid calls out into the night.

“I’m here Virgo,” she replies. The pink haired woman walks up beside her charge. “Your father wants you to come meet the heirs to the Shepherd clans.”

The young woman sighs. “I will be right there.” She turns toward the house, taking one last look at the large forest with longing. She heads inside, her face becoming a mask with a fake sweet smile for all the Shifters inside.

Shifters; beings or creatures with the ability to change their physical form or shape. Little did the humans know but there were many different kinds of shifters living all across Fiore. Magnolia just happened to be the base for the Retriever clan, a branch of the canine Shifters. All the clan heads had come for a meeting of leaders to discuss issues among them.

As she walks back into the dining hall, she spots her father talking with a couple of the other clan leaders.

“Come here Lucy,” he orders, beckoning her over. Her father is a tall man with graying sandy hair and a well-groomed mustache. He became clan leader after her mother died when she was young.

Her mother had been the true leader of the clan and her death was a huge loss for them all. Lucy was expected to step into the role when she finally found a mate worthy of ruling by her side, and thus why her father was introducing her to all the available, potential alphas.

She noticed the four men standing next to her father. “Hello, Lucy, my name is Siegrain,” said a tall man with dark blue hair as he held his hand out for her to shake. He then introduced his son, Jellal, who was a young replica of his father except for the flashy red tattoo that adorned his face around his right eye.

Next, was she was introduced to a man with dark hair and intimidating scar running down his forehead from his hairline. Silver was his name and he introduced his son, Gray, who looked board out of his mind.

Within the canine shifters there were different clans Retriever, Shepherd, Collie, Terrier and so forth and in those clans were different branches of families.

“Siegrain is the head of the German Shepherd family,” Lucy’s father Jude said. “And Silver heads the Australian Shepherd family.” Lucy nodded respectfully to each man.

“Well, we should let these youngsters get to know one another,” Silver said as he clapped his son on the back. “You don’t need a bunch of old dogs like us getting in your way.”

“Indeed, I need to speak with a few people I haven’t seen in a while before the meeting starts,” Siegrain told them while looking around the room.

“Lucy, show these young men to the refreshment table,” Jude told his daughter.

“Yes, Sir,” Lucy replied, as he turned back to the other leaders. “This way please,” she said and the two heirs followed after her.

It was obvious to her that their fathers were hoping that the youths would hit it off in more ways than one. As future clan leaders, they would be working together to insure the peace of the canine Shifters in their clans. Having leaders from different clans marry only helped solidify bonds and expand territories. It wasn’t unheard of for marriage to be arranged just for that purpose.

When they reached the drink table Lucy offered to pour them a drink. “Thank you, Lucy, but I think we can manage,” Jellal told her.

“Yeah, those old farts aren’t here breathing down our necks right now, so you don’t have to be so formal with us,” Gray said as he reached for a glass.

Lucy smiled, glad that the boys seemed to realize what their fathers were up to and felt the same as she did about it. She looked at her new companions, relieved that her dad at least had her interests in mind enough to not stick her with the runts of the litter.

Gray was a head taller than herself with a medium build. His hair was dark and Lucy suspected that in the sunlight it might even have a blue tint to it. His dark blue eyes shown with intelligence that betrayed his uninterested attitude and she could tell he was sizing her up just as she was him. Over all he was stunningly handsome and Lucy could see girls falling at his feet, if he would only smile. She would bet that his canine form would be some kind of blue merle but it was impolite to ask.

Jellal was taller but maybe more slight in his build. His dark blue hair contrasted well with his dark green eyes. He had a kind smile and was very polite. Lucy would bet that he was one that if you backed him into a corner, you would have your hands full. He was very handsome as well but easier to approach than expected being a German Shephard, his canine form was probably less friendly looking and more intimidating.

Lucy sat and talked to her guests as they waited for the meeting to start. As it turned out they both had a good sense of humor and were pretty smart too. Their clans both bordered the Retriever territory so they didn’t have far to travel. Gray was 21 years old, just a year older than Lucy herself, and Jellal was 23.

Jude walked into the dining hall announcing that the meeting would be starting and all should take their seats. All of the leaders, and their heirs that were old enough, filed into the conference room. Lucy took her seat next to her father and was pleased to find both Jellal and Gray not far to her right.

Jude cleared his throat starting the meeting. The leaders took turns informing the others of how things were going in their territory. After all the leaders had their say, Lucy’s dad stood up and addressed the room. “Now, it is time to discuss the biggest problem our clans are facing. Yes, I’m talking about the Lycans.”

%%%%%

Natsu slowed as they neared the edge of town. It was late, but many of the businesses were still open. It was risky but the pack needed medicine, and Magnolia was the closest town that had it. Magnolia was on the edge of their territory but the majority of it was within the Shifter territory and they weren’t what you would call Lycan friendly.

Checking to see if the coast was clear, he nodded to the female Lycan a few feet to his left. Seeing his signal they both started to phase. Natsu felt his skin tingle and his bones twist and reform as he took his human form, and stepped out of the trees. He turned again and nodded to his companion as they set off in different directions. Divide and conquer was their plan, to get in and get out as fast as they could before a patrol could pick up on their scent.

The feud between the Shifters and Lycans had been going on for centuries. Arguments over borders and territory were most of the problem, that and the fact that the two races seemed to hate one another. Shifters were originally humans that gained the power to change into animals and Lycans were wolves that transformed into humans. Lycans tended to rely more on instinct and their behavior was more like the wolves they phased into. Unfortunately, the real cause of the feud was lost in history.

Natsu walked into the corner store, finding the items on his list as quick as he could. They only had a half an hour before the regular patrols made their rounds. He paid for his purchases and stowed them in his bag.

Heading into shifter territory was even worse for Natsu because he was a half breed, half Lycan and half Shifter, an outcast in both worlds. Shifters had killed both of his parents and almost killed him and his sister. Only sheer luck had spared them. However, one of the Alpha leaders of the Lycans found them and decided to adopt them into the pack. Most Lycans still look down on them but as long as they could contribute to the pack they were allowed to stay. That’s why he found himself on a mission into Shifter territory. Not that he minded it too much. It was exciting and he was always up for a challenge.

As he headed to the meeting spot he checked his watch, it was five minutes till next patrol. The one on this mission with him was in fact his sister and she was always early. Natsu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Quietly, he melted into the shadows and headed to the store where his sister went to pick up the medicine.

As the store came in sight, the scent hit him. Shifters, three of them, and it smelled like they were in the very store his sister had to get the medicine from. Creeping up to the window, he peeked in. Sure enough, there were three Retrievers in the store and from the look of it they were off duty. Natsu could see his sister at the back of the store looking over the shelves. Shifters didn’t have a sharp sense of smell like the Lycans did. Natsu figured that that coupled with the smells in the shop and his sister’s mixed blood was what kept them from noticing her.

The three retrievers stood at the checkout desk, talking to the clerk. This kept his sister from being able to pay for the medicine and leave. After another five minutes, the three left. He watched her make her way over to check out. Unfortunately, one of the shifters came back, having left his wallet lying on the counter. As soon as he stepped through the door, he froze. At that distance, there was no way he would miss the scent of a Lycan.

His sister grabbed the medicine and threw the money down on the counter before bolting past the Shifter. Once outside, Natsu called out to her. “Fuyumi! Over here!” Seeing him, she quickly took off in his direction sprinting for the meeting place at the edge of the trees. As they turned around the next block, they ran straight into the patrol they had been trying to avoid.

“Shit, this way,” Fuyumi said to Natsu as they turned away from the Shifters. Even though it was late, the streets were still busy, and they couldn’t phase into their wolf forms without causing a panic. Not to mention they would have to ditch the supplies they just worked so hard to procure. Even with the extra weight the two half breeds were fast and kept ahead of the Shifters.

To the humans, it looked like the cops were chasing two young robbers. So naturally some of the bystanders tried to slow the pair down. The siblings dodged and jumped over people and obstacles trying to get to the forest but finding it just out of reach. They ran out of the shopping district and into the residential areas with the shifters still hot on their heels.

%%%%%

“These Lycans are a menace!” one of the leaders shouted. “We should just end them once and for all!”

“Their land would be a big increase for our own territory,” another added to the discussion.

“Now, all of you please listen,” Siegrain interjected. “War with the Lycans would be catastrophic to our numbers. I don’t believe it is worth the risk of losing more Shifters.”

Arguments broke out among the table both for and against war with the Lycans. Lucy sat quietly at her father’s side wondering why they have to be at war at all. If there was only someway they could live in peace with the Lycans that would be beneficial to all. She then noticed Virgo slipping into the room and hurrying to her father’s side. The maid whispered something about Lycans and Jude stood up. “Well here is our chance to do something now! Two Lycans have been spotted in town and are headed into the residential districts. Everyone is to fan out and search for the two intruders!” After that all the leaders started to organize, dividing up the blocks between the Shifters present.

Jude turned to his daughter. “Lucy, I want you to stay here in the house and don’t come out,” he ordered.

“Why, I want to help search too?” Lucy argued back.

“No, I won’t have you putting yourself in danger out there. You will stay in this house and not come out until the issue is resolved,” Jude ended the argument.

Lucy huffed as Jude and the other leaders walked out of the room. Gray stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lucy. Jellal and I are headed out to help with the search.”

“We have plenty of shifters. We will catch them,” Jellal nodded in agreement.

Lucy followed the boys outside to see them off. She then headed up to her room to change out of the stuffy dress her dad made her wear for the meeting. Not pleased at all about having to stay home.

%%%%%

Natsu ducked behind a hedge when he smelled another patrol of shifters headed his way. He and Fuyumi had gotten separated from each other a few blocks back and now he was completely lost. He took off running through yards and leaping over fences hoping to throw off his pursuers. He couldn’t help but notice that the houses were getting bigger and the yards more extravagant as he ran. Turning a corner, he was assaulted with the smell of many shifters headed down both sides of the street towards him.

Standing in front of a tall privacy fence, he did the only thing he could think of and jumped it. He wasn’t prepared for the rose bushes on the other side and yelped as the thorns tore at his skin on the way down. Holding his breath, he listened to see if he had attracted any unwanted attention. He could hear the Shifters coming down the street towards his hiding place until a shout drew the shifters away from him.

Natsu let out a sigh of relief and looked around him. The yard was huge and the house that it belonged to looked like someone important lived there. It also reeked of shifters. “Great,” he mumbled. “I had to go jump into a shifters yard.” As he continued to look around, he could see the forest on the other side of the back fence. “I have to find Fuyumi,” he said out loud. He definitely couldn’t risk going out to find her while carrying around his heavy bag. Looking around the yard once more he noticed a small garden shed along the back fence with its door already open. He decided to hide his bag in there so he could go find his sister.

He opened the door and stowed his bag in a corner where no one would notice it. With that done he decided to phase. He dropped to all fours, as his hands and feet turned into paws. Fur blossomed over his skin and his bones stretched as he took his wolf form. Shaking himself, he padded out of the shed.

When he emerged from the small building he breathed deep, scenting for anyone near. The smell of honey and vanilla came to him and he couldn’t help but breath even deeper. It was a comforting smell and he felt himself relax despite his situation. Until, he heard someone gasp.

Ch 1| Ch 2| Ch 3 | Ch 4| Ch 5|

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swtorizz · 5 years ago

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Lost Apprentice (Ashara/Sith!OC) Ch. 2

Chapter 1 | AO3

The Sith towered over Nala, his figure looming and intimidating. He was broad-shouldered and had the posture of a well-behaved apprentice, but what really made him stand out was his presence. The Force radiated from him in dark waves, as it did any Sith, and it took all of Ashara’s strength to maintain a civil composure.

She took a few breaths and smoothed her shirt to even herself out before speaking, “Nala. Who is this?”

“Oh!” Nala perked, as if she’d completely forgotten there was a Sith at her side, “this is, er, I’m so sorry, hun, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“My name is not important.” His voice was as deep and menacing as Ashara had envisioned it to be.

But that didn’t stop her from growling at him, “your name is ‘not important’? Who do you think you are?”

He raised a brow, “No need to be so hostile. I’m here to help, after all.”

Dumbfounded, Ashara glanced at her hostess. Nala smiled, “indeed he is! This young man heard about our struggles from some folks in the village and offered his help. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just thought since you haven’t, er, had much luck—“

“It’s fine, Nala.” Ashara sighed, “I understand. Would you like me to leave?”

“Oh heavens no!” The woman looked downright shocked, “I couldn’t imagine being without you! And I though maybe the two of you could work together! You could fill him in on all the little details and, together, you could work something…”

As Nala rattled on, Ashara realized the Sith was staring at her. She recalled what she’d put on before bed the night before and suddenly her bare legs under her long shirt felt very bare.

She cleared her throat and interrupted Nala’s rambling, “Nala, I’m going to get dressed.”

“Of course dear,” she smiled, then called after her as the togruta turned and paced down the hall, “sorry for the scare!”

A Sith? Really, Nala, you think it’s not important to tell me about that?

Ashara had to refrain herself from punching the wall of the ‘fresher. She took several deep breaths to calm herself.

“There is passion. There is serenity. There is passion. There is serenity.”

Still wary, she felt out with the Force to assure that she wasn’t going to be ambushed. To her relief, the Sith seemed to be farther away from her now than before. Ashara finished up in the ‘fresher and dressed herself in a simple outfit of brown trousers and a beige tunic. Briefly, she recalled that the Sith had been wearing black and gray, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t even attempt to camouflage to his surroundings. Though she supposed he likely didn’t care enough to do so. Not many Sith would.

She also recalled his skin. That deep orange and those signature ridges of a pureblood reminded her of her master. But she shook that thought away and focused instead on building a mental wall.

After an hour or so of meditation, Ashara made her way to the kitchen and forced down what scraps were left of breakfast. Apparently no one felt it important to invite her after getting to know their new Sith friend.

“I’ve got rations, if you’d like.”

Ashara nearly jumped out of her skin when that deep voice grumbled from behind her. She silently cursed herself for being so focused on her own thoughts that she’d completely ignored the Force around her. Now that she was paying attention, she felt the waves of dark energy emanating from him and she was astounded that she’d missed it in the first place.

Apparently, he was too, “I apologize, I assumed you had sensed me.”

So she told you all about me then, huh?, “I don’t want your food. Nala cooks perfectly fine.”

“Fair enough.” When he raised a hand, palm first, she twitched involuntarily toward her side where she kept her lightsaber, well-hidden beneath her clothes.

His eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth turned upward, “So it’s true, then? You were trained as a Jedi?”

Ashara recalled the many conversations she’d had with Nala about her Force sensitivity. She’d been extremely hesitant to say much, for fear of word getting out about her location, but she supposed with bits and pieces put together it may have alluded to her Jedi padawan past.

But Ashara didn’t say a word of this to the Sith. In fact, she said nothing. Heart beating fast, she put her senses on high alert and forced her way past the spot where he leaned in the doorway, nearly touching him in the process.

As she passed, Ashara realized something. The Force energy emanating from him wasn’t entirely dark. Somewhere, deep down, there was a spark. It was small, but bright enough that she’d noticed it only in passing. Her curiosity was peaked. However she knew she would never get the chance to find out more. Because she’d decided that she’d be gone by the next sunrise.

It was mid-afternoon before Ashara had the displeasure of running into the Sith again. This time she was prepared. She sensed him long before he approached her in the fields, his dark cloak standing out disgracefully.

“I know you’re planning to leave.”

She sighed and tossed the rake to the side, allowing it to thud against the dirt. She knew there was no use in lying, but she had no idea how this Sith could possibly know that. She’d been very careful to keep the secret a secret.

“How?”

“When you walk past her,” he nodded at Nala, far off in the field opposite the one they were standing, delicately pulling weeds, “you radiate guilt. I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed it, honestly.”

“Okay.” Ashara crossed her arms, prepared for some sort of Sith trick. Blackmail, maybe, “so?”

“So,” when he looked back at her she felt self conscious and suddenly felt the need to check and see if she was wearing pants, but she resisted the urge, “you must have learned some things in the, what, weeks you’ve been staying here? I would appreciate it if you would at least give me some clues.”

No, she wanted to bite, but she held her tongue and forced her anger down, “I’ll think about it.”

With that, Ashara abandoned her work and decided to take a meditation break. This time she purposefully stepped closer to the Sith than she needed to when she passed, which unfortunately caused him to tense and his presence to shift and be more reserved. After the fact, she felt incredibly stupid for doing something so impulsive, and made sure to remind herself that he was not an ally. He needed to be treated as an active threat.

After a few hours of meditation, Ashara felt it again. His presence. It was the first time she’d opened her eyes in hours and she realized it was nearly sunset. She felt ashamed for leaving Nala to do all the work herself, especially with a Sith lurking around. But now her focus was on the shifting Force outside her door. It took a few moments of listening for her to realize that Nala was there with him, having a conversation. She concentrated in an attempt to eavesdrop, but just as she did so they said their parting words and a knock sounded at her door.

Softly, Ashara answered, “come in.”

Nala’s smile was just as sweet as always. She honestly looked more content than she had for a while, probably due to the least bit of hope after days and days of bad news. But the way Nala was twiddling her thumbs had Ashara worried.

“What is it, Nala?”

The woman took a breath, “I know you aren’t exactly, um, getting along with our newest guest. But he would appreciate it if you could, maybe, fill him in? I promise he’s just a sweetheart once you get to know him—“

“Okay, okay.” Ashara stopped her so that she wouldn’t have to throw up in her mouth, “I’ll tell him, Nala. For you.”

She beamed, “thank you so much, Ashara! I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

When her hostess began to tear up, Ashara hurriedly said her goodnight. Nala promised to send the Sith to see her, to which Ashara had to stop herself from giving a snarky response.

It seemed like an eternity before another knock sounded, this time heavier and more commanding than the last.

Ashara braced herself, “come in.”

The Sith stepped into her room and immediately surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly she was self-conscious of what little of her own possessions she had laying about.

“I’m surprised you aren’t packed yet.” He commented, almost idly.

“Quiet.” She snapped, already annoyed. Stars, did she really have to do this?

“My apologies.” He offered as he sat down on the single chair against the far wall.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me. I didn’t know Sith knew how to do that.”

He ignored her tone and kept his cool composure, as usual, “Perhaps I’m not Sith.”

A few things sparked in Ashara: confusion, anger, but most importantly, curiosity.

The Sith (if he could still be referred to as such), of course, sensed all this, and smiled. She found herself taken aback by how genuine it looked, and had to stop her thoughts from wandering into how it affected the sweat on her palms.

“Anyhow,” he moved on, toying with her, “what can you share with me before two?”

The togruta took a deep breath, steadying both her emotions and her body, and pressed her back against the wall where she sat on the cot. Hesitantly, she explained what little she’d learned to the man in front of her.

Mostly she knew that something happened on the farm once a month, but for some reason this time was different every month, however, it was always two in the morning. At two in the morning, as she’d been told, every member of the household woke suddenly and felt a dreadful uneasiness; only to look out their windows and see a lone, dark figure standing motionless in the fields. The figure, as it had been described to her, was always there until Nala looked away to make a call, and then it disappeared. This terrified Nala, which was why she’d put out a desperate ad on the holonet with what little savings a single mother could have, and hoped. Ashara was the first to respond, and had assumed it’d been taken down once she arrived, but apparently had been left up for others to find just in case.

While telling this part of the story Ashara let slip that she’d been searching the holonet for something to do, some way to help someone. The Sith shifted in his chair when she said this, but had no remark. She continued.

She recalled every night for the past two weeks: stay up until two, wait, and watch. But nothing ever came.

With that she wrapped up her story and glanced at the clock. Three hours left.

Finally, the Sith said something, “Interesting. I suppose it’s greatly disappointing to you that you cannot help the way you truly desire to.”

It’d been digging at her that she’d been trying and trying to help, but no opportunity ever presented itself. She felt like a failure and a fraud, even though she’d been doing this all free of charge.

“Maybe a little bit.” She shrugged, “so what?”

He shrugged in return, “how noble.”

When Ashara narrowed her eyes in hostility, the Sith took that as an invitation to leave. He told her that he’d be back in a few hours and disappeared to who knows where.

Grateful to be alone, Ashara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. That Sith had been eating away at the barrier she’d been implementing for weeks. This greatly bothered Ashara, because no matter how often the children got on her nerves or how many nightmares she had, the barrier had remained full and in-tact. But the passing presence of one random Sith was enough to deteriorate it.

In an attempt to clear her thoughts, Ashara found her way to the ‘fresher and took her time bathing to re-align her thoughts and scattered emotions.

“There is emotion. There is peace. There is emotion. There is peace…”

She repeated her chant under her breath until she did feel at peace. At least, as at peace as one could feel while still being on guard for the worst.

She dressed herself in her camouflage once again and waited. Soon enough there was an hour until two. And then a half hour. And then fifteen minutes.

A soft knock at her door startled her, and broke the reverie of her meditation. Instead of welcoming the Sith in, Ashara made her way to the door and had it open seconds after he’d knocked.

The Sith blinked in surprise, and Ashara realized she was closer to him than she’d ever been before. She noticed that his irises were a light gray, nearly light enough to match the whites of his eyes. His hair was as black as the void of space and his skin more of a burnt umber than a true orange.

When a second or two passed longer than it should have, and Ashara realized he was surveying her as closely as she was him, she cleared her throat and pushed past to step into the hallway.

Careful to be quiet enough as to not wake anyone else in the house, Ashara spoke softly, “we are going to hide silently among the crops and wait. Nothing is going to happen, and then I am going to gather my things and leave before Nala wakes at sunrise, and you won’t breathe a word about it, understood?”

He nodded once, softly, his deep voice just above a whisper, “understood.”

Glad to have no objections, Ashara led him to the side door and pointed out the small path she’d made herself through the field closest there. Silently, the Sith followed her to her hiding spot among the tallest of the crops, tall enough to just almost hide the tips of her horns while standing. The Sith, being as tall as her horns standing, sat down next to her in the crop field.

Silently still, the two reached out with the Force to sense the approach of anything nearby. Ashara did her best to ignore the large presence of power at her side.

After several minutes of this, Ashara opened her eyes. She could see very little between the meters of tall crops in front of her. When she tilted her head upward she could see the stars that made up Dantooine’s atmosphere and could just make out the full moon.

When the Sith at her side stiffened, Ashara was sent into full alert. She sensed it moving quickly from the west: the unwavering, unmistakable presence of a Sith.

Great.

Without hesitation, Ashara stood, prepared to chase down the intruder before he could do something horrible to the family he’d been stalking. But the moment she stood, an arm grabbed her around the waist and another flew over her mouth so she couldn’t make a noise.

Every alarm bell went off in her head. This is a trap, they’re working together, you idiot, how could you have trusted a Sith? This is where you die.

But quickly Ashara realized, through the overwhelming Force energy of two Sith, she still had her lightsaber carefully hidden on her hip. Palms sweaty, she went to grab it — only to realize she’d left in sitting on her bed where she’d been meditating. Her heart pumped so fast she was sure it would fly out of her chest.

“Listen.” The Sith hissed into her ear, his breath warm against her skin, “that is Lord Andarus, Darth Iratius’ son. You attack him and we’re both dead. Nod if you understand.”

The gears turned in Ashara’s head. It wasn’t a trap. They weren’t working together, or she’d already be dead.

She nodded.

Slowly, the Sith silently moved his hand from her face, but hesitated. She supposed it was because he was waiting to see if she’d scream, but all she could focus on was the figure across the fields and the arm around her midsection.

She struggled to concentrate on the intruder, just in case he did something stupid, but it was difficult when a Sith was clinging to her. His breathing in her ear was steady and his grip on her strong, aided by the Force, surely. After a few more grueling seconds, he let go.

But Ashara knew she couldn’t allow Nala’s family to be hurt, and she knew Nala would be watching from inside the house.

She had to do something.

Before the Sith could react, Ashara concentrated and pushed outward with the Force, sending a gust of wind toward Lord whatshisface. The cloaked figure stumbled, but turned immediately in the direction of the Force push.

Too little too late, Ashara ducked down to where the Sith already crouched. With the Force she felt as the man darted in the direction he came and Ashara jumped to follow before she could be stopped.

Immediately he was out of sight, hidden somewhere in the shadows, but Ashara had the Force on her side. She used it to find a trail—the ghost of a path, and sprinted in that direction. The further she went, though, the more she felt the trail disappear until finally…

“Kriff.” She growled to herself, snapping her head in every direction. She found herself at the village center, calm and peaceful in the moonlit night. Neither Sith was anywhere to be seen.

In a last ditch effort, Ashara considered the one place she would go to if she was being chased.

The spaceport.

As soon as she arrived she felt the Sith Lord’s Force energy wafting at her from the entrance. Before she could even take a step inside, however, the familiar sound of a ship beginning its takeoff caught her attention, and she cursed again under her breath.

She looked up to see a small shuttle outlined by the moon, it’s only discernible markings that could be made out being its painted red tail. And like that, it jumped to hyperspace.

It was gone.

Ashara arrived at Nala’s house at sunrise, broken and defeated. For her weeks of work she had nothing to show for it. She was disheveled, tired, and empty.

“It’s about time.”

Ashara scowled, but otherwise completely ignored the Sith. As she went to pass him to get into the house, he grabbed her by the arm to stop her.

Ashara ripped her arm from his grasp, “Do not touch me. You ruined this. You ruined everything.”

The Sith allowed his hand to fall back down to his side. His eyes narrowed, “that’s a lot of anger for a former Jedi.”

Ashara bit her tongue and stomped past him, only to be greeted by Nala the moment she stepped into the door. By the look on her face Ashara could tell that Nala had already heard the news—that he’d gotten away.

“I’m so sorry, Nala.”

“Don’t be.” The short woman shook her head and placed her hand on Ashara’s arm. This time, Ashara did not pull away.

All Ashara could think about was sleep. She’d been awake since the sunrise of the day before at this point and was too tired to think. She was about to brush past Nala when she noticed the bag on her arm.

Ashara hesitated, “what’s that?”

“Oh!” Nala smiled her sweet smile, holding out the bag for Ashara to take, “He told me all about the plans you two made to track down this stranger. I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of collecting your things for you.”

Ashara blinked a few times, attempting to process what she’d just heard. The plans we made, huh?

“That was very sweet of you, Nala.” The Sith appeared in the doorway behind Ashara. She went to step away, but he caught her wrist behind her back and slid something into her palm.

Her lightsaber. Ashara felt like a complete idiot for having forgotten where she’d left it. She winced at the thought of what might’ve happened had she caught that Sith without a weapon to defend herself.

There were many things Ashara wanted to say. Most of all, that she wanted nothing to do with this man who seemed to have taken a morbid curiosity to her.

But she could barely keep her eyes open, much less argue, so instead she settled for words of kindness, “thank you for everything, Nala.”

Tears streamed down Nala’s face, but she quickly wiped them away when she caught the kids staring from the other end of the room.

“Thank you, dear.”

Through her haze, Ashara felt herself began to tear up and decided it was time to leave. Carefully, she hid her lightsaber in her sleeve and took the bag from her hostess.

As she followed the Sith outside, she prepared herself for another walk into town, but she was amazed to see a taxi waiting there for them. In her sleepy state the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

After climbing into the taxi himself, the Sith leaned over and offered her his hand to the togruta. There were a lot of rude comments that flew through her head, but she was far too tired to realize any of them. Instead, she sighed and took his hand, allowing herself to get comfortable on the opposite end of the taxi seat.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #ashara zavros #slow burn #lost apprentice

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