#haven't written for them since s4 came out so it feels good (and fun) to incorporate some of the new aspects

[raayllum]

set like 10ish years post-s5 idk man

Once Claudia has taken her prosthetic off for the day, she’s loath to put it on for anything, which is how she finds herself dithering over getting up from her comfy armchair to get up and go to bed. Ezran’s study is more than partially also hers, now, with plenty of her herbalist tomes stacked next to the sealed up scrolls on his desk, but the king had taken his leave maybe twenty minutes ago, and she knows she should retire soon.

In a bit, though. For now she just wants to close her eyes and appreciate the luxury of a comfy chair and warm castle, after so long, of a young man of twenty-two with a warm smile that she doesn’t deserve having directed at her, but it is, and—

The door opens and she starts, not recognizing the silhouette for a moment besides horns, but then—

“Oh,” says Rayla, hovering in the doorway. She steps in without apology, though, which is fair, after everything. “I didn’t realize you were still in here.”

“I was just about to go,” Claudia admits. And while Rayla can go into any room in the castle, she rarely comes here outside of more private council meetings. “Are you looking for something?”

“Callum left a scroll here earlier.” 

Claudia gestures to the desk behind her like be my guest, and ignores her dread of the colder months incoming. The castle had always been drafty in her youth, but that had hardly been a problem. Now, though, with the phantom pains... Claudia has been without her leg for eight years now, but it still hits sometimes, how much worse the winter makes the aching of her stump.

She kneads it without thinking, scowling equally on instinct when she catches Rayla looking. “What?” she says, and then softens. Her temper has always been a nasty thing, and adjusting to castle life—to being a fully realized person again and not a wounded animal backed into a corner, afraid to show any sign of weakness—has been difficult, but... 

“I’m sorry,” Rayla finally says, brow creased, the secured scroll in one hand. “About your leg.” She holds her other arm to her chest, the bad wrist Claudia had first noticed as something to use against her, and now something the mage tries to forget. “I almost lost my... I didn’t realize when I cut the tentacle what it would do.”

“Would you have made a different choice if you’d known?” Claudia asks almost flatly, and they share a strange smile.

“No.” 

It’s what explains the absence of anger in her chest, maybe, Claudia reflects; the knowledge that Rayla had always done whatever actually needed to be done, and not just what was convenient to believe even as said belief became continually more fractured and frayed. 

Claudia tucks a strand of dyed black hair behind her ear, exhaling as the other woman takes a seat in the armchair across from her, the hearth in the fireplace casting shifting light over both their faces.

“You don’t have to apologize for it,” Claudia says, a lump of pain and gratefulness in her throat. She hates that she doesn’t know just how far, just how much damage, she could’ve caused otherwise. Everything in her softens though, even the sharp sting of regret and shame, as she fidgets with her fingers. “Losing a leg is definitely worth keeping Ezran in my life.” Then she catches herself, her brain catching up with her heart, and adds, “And I, um, I’m glad of course I didn’t hurt you and Callum further, I—”

Rayla is already looking at her when Claudia looks up, a little panicked, but Rayla’s face isn’t disapproving or even surprised. She looks pensive and hard to read instead, brow slightly creased—did Claudia give away too much, or nothing at all?—before her lips twitch. She reaches over and pats Claudia on the hand. 

“Of course,” Rayla says, rising. “Well, I’ll leave you to it—and you’ll go to bed soon? You know Ez wouldn’t want to come back in the morning to find you here.” 

Claudia manages a tiny smile. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” She reaches down and straps on her prosthetic, groaning a bit, and Rayla holds the door open as they go out into the hall and go their separate ways.

Still, Claudia supposes she’s glad their paths led them here.

[transmutationisms]

Ooo could you share some thoughts on Mr Robot??? It’s such an interesting show that nobody ever talks about. I agree it has some amazing moments but also have issues with some of the choices in it, particularly in s4

ok i haven't rewatched it since the last season was airing so there are details i've forgotten but in general my biggest problem was really just that in the end it essentially came down to "anti-capitalism was a pipe dream effort to protect a single vulnerable kid" like kjfkwjksjf listen. i'm not saying all tv shows need to be communist for me to like them (tho they should be) or that i had an issue with elliot having a protective alter (i don't) but that was irritating. i also would have been fine with the quasi-supernatural elements introduced in season 4 IF they went somewhere (<-search party enjoyer) but they were very awkwardly truncated imo. and has it been long enough to admit the darlene/fbi agent subplot was irritating?? grace gummer's performance was fine but man i did not care for how that character was written. i think what the show did well was explore alienation (including through the cinematography, which was so often so good), but it faltered whenever it tried to Say Something beyond, like, "bougie leftists with god complexes are silly". i thought tyrell climbing the ladder by fucking men was fun and it felt like that was always about to have more of an effect on his relationship with elliot than it actually did. pretty much all of the acting was very good, even good enough to carry REALLY unsubtle dialogue lol. i remember having mixed feelings about whiterose's writing but i really can't remember enough to say anything cogent about that. the cut to elliot picking adderall out of his vomit will always be famous to me.