#i also pet her a little roughly and ruffle her fur when i do this

[sometimes-i-right]

Was digging through my notes and found this discarded scene from Mand’alor bal Kaysh Vod’ika. Obi-Wan’s verd’goten was originally a single chapter featuring a hunt on Mandalore, but I scrapped that in favor of the Xanatos hunt published on AO3. Of course that decision was made after I had already written 3k words, so enjoy the scrapped scene after the break. (The original arc also involved a completely original mission where Obi-Wan crossed paths with Luminara and her master. I may use bits and pieces of that mission in a future arc.)

This chapter originally had another 500 or so words where Obi-Wan is adopted by a strill puppy. I think those words got deleted, since the only evidence is a pro/con list and the single “protect” emotion from the strill parent.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he expected Mandalore to look like, but it wasn't this. Large swathes of the southern hemisphere had been bombarded from space, leaving enormous puckered black scars across a golden desert. The desert was relatively new, or so Jango said, a result of the bombardment destroying the natural ecosystem and leaving the area uninhabitable without sophisticated environmental domes.

The northern hemisphere had been miraculously spared - and that alone had probably kept the planet capable of supporting humanoid life - leaving a glimpse of the Mandalore of old. Forests and mountains blanketed the area, making it difficult to carve out enough space for a single clan, let alone a city or proper landing pad.

Jango guided Jaster's Legacy in for a lopsided landing between an evergreen forest and the start of yet another mountain range, a feat Obi-Wan was glad he didn't have to perform. "Wayii," he exclaimed softly upon exiting the ship, eyebrows rising in awe at the way the Legacy was perched atop three boulders like a giant bird of prey.

"It just takes practice," Jango assured, voice modulator hiding most of the amusement Obi-Wan could feel from him. "Now, your verd'goten," he started and Obi-Wan snapped his attention over. "Traditionally, the two of us would disappear into the wilderness while the rest of Clan Fett tried to catch and defeat you. Seeing as that's not an option, we'll have to test your warrior skills another way."

Obi-Wan swallowed his nerves and nodded seriously.

"In these forests are a number of dangerous predators. Your task is to hunt a strill," he stated and Obi-Wan tilted his head in question. "They're an apex predator native to these forests. Highly intelligent, mammalian, with an unmistakable stench and six legs. Tend to pounce from high trees," he warned, grinning when Obi-Wan nervously glanced at the tree line.

Those were some very tall trees.

"I'll be with you to make sure you don't die, but this is your hunt," Jango finished. "Be sure to take whatever you need from the ship."

"I don't suppose there's a strill tracker?" Obi-Wan quipped before studying the forest. He had taken the basic survival courses all Initiates took. He had the Force. If things went to absolute bathashit, he had Jango.

He could do this.

He set off into the forest with a light pack, a single blaster, and a survival knife. He had contemplated grabbing more supplies - enough provisions for a week, more weapons, a full temporary shelter and bedroll - but had ultimately decided against it. This was a test. He wouldn't take the easy way out.

The forest was eerie and peaceful at the same time. Insects chirped and screamed all around him, blocking out the softer padding sounds of small prey animals and his own two feet. Branches snapped and shook from the breeze and various creatures going about their lives. The scent of pine and rotting foliage sat heavy in his lungs.

He trudged on.

The sun filtered through the sturdy veshok trees and warmed patches of undergrowth. Obi-Wan paused in one, absorbing the heat and breathing out his tension. Breathed in peace, and exhaled his uncertainty. Inhaled fresh air and exhaled his nerves.

He stretched out his senses.

Jango stopped fifty yards away, preternaturally still in the way all predators were. He was calm, patient, warm, but ready to spring into action at the slightest signal. His own senses - and likely his sensors - were on high alert, searching for any indication that Obi-Wan needed his help.

Obi-Wan would not need his help. Not for this. He would make Jango proud.

A rapid heartbeat and softly padding feet off to one side, a flicker of life just as wary and alert as Obi-Wan was. He brushed against that dim light, identifying it as a small herbivore. A prey animal, calculating in its own simple way whether it wanted to flee or continue munching the sweet vorpan berries.

Another flicker of life overhead, this one sleeping. A good thing, too, since there was an aura of danger and barely leashed violence tucked behind those brown wings. Obi-Wan would not put it past this particular creature to attack, and possibly kill, humans if it felt the desire. He sent a soft sleep suggestion to it and warily turned his attention elsewhere, though part of him kept it firmly in mind.

Something nudged his arm, and Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. A cold black nose attached to a long triangular face nudged his arm again, and Obi-Wan huffed a soft laugh. He slowly, carefully reached up to pet the shatual's head and scratch the base of the wide antlers, gaze flickering over the herd that had decided to come meet him.

"Hello there," he greeted quietly, belatedly realizing he had been projecting peace into the Force in his attempts to keep the predator bird overhead asleep. No wonder the herd had come up to him. "You're a brave little fellow, aren't you?"

Jango shifted, and the shatual herd stiffened, heads all swiveling to stare at the Mandalorian. Obi-Wan jerked back to avoid getting clocked by his new friend's bony crown.

The largest shatual made a guttural sound, and Obi-Wan scrambled away as the herd abruptly fled.

A mix of exasperation, disbelief, and humor prompted Obi-Wan to turn, a bemused if chiding look on his face. "Thanks for that," he snarked, staring pointedly at the blaster Jango had drawn.

"This happen a lot?" Jango asked evenly as he stowed the weapon.

"Not generally. I think I was projecting and they got curious," Obi-Wan admitted. "We should move on. I think that's a shriek-hawk overhead, which means a strill wouldn't be welcome here."

There was a brief pause as Jango consulted his HUD. "Good eye," he confirmed.

Obi-Wan smiled as he wandered deeper into the woods, the Force guiding his steps.

 They stalked through the forest for hours, Obi-Wan picking out what plants he thought were safe for foraging and Jango verifying their safety. Whether that was cheating, Obi-Wan didn't care to examine too closely. He knew how to test whether a plant was edible. Using Jango's knowledge simply kept the man from worrying at Obi-Wan's naturally small appetite.

There were no repeats of the shatual herd incident, though Obi-Wan may have used a small Force suggestion to lure a rabbit for latemeal. He only felt mildly guilty about using the Force in such a way as Jango helped him field dress and roast the animal.

Camp was a simple affair; a pile of dry leaves, a small fire, and a blanket to keep the morning dew off. Jango didn't even bother with the blanket, relying instead on his beskar'gam to keep him warm and dry. Part of Obi-Wan was jealous, the rest of him knew he would get his own suit soon.

The next day came bright and early, complete with Obi-Wan gasping from a half-forgotten nightmare and Jango groaning about a night on the hard ground. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and would have thrown a pillow if he had one; the ground was not that much harder than the shared blanket pile they were experimenting with on the Legacy.

They wandered onwards, Obi-Wan following the vague currents of the Force as best he could. It was difficult to tell where exactly he was meant to go. The Living Force had never been his strong suit, and the Force felt especially elusive in this old, scarred forest. This was a place teeming with life tempered by a looming expectation of danger; these were survivors, determined to eke out a living among the jagged rocks and scraggly trees and the heavy weight of death.

He shivered as he crested another boulder.

The vague feeling of alarm and the sound of rustling trees alerted him to animals fleeing something. He turned, stretching his senses out.

A breeze ruffled his hair, and Obi-Wan nearly gagged at the stench it carried. Like rotting meat and Vos's training tunics and unwashed bodies all mixed together. He hastily switched to breathing through his mouth, and nearly gagged again as he realized he could taste the stink.

He glanced back at Jango, a disgusted look on his face. 'Is that what I think it is?'

Amusement spiked, and Jango inclined his head. 'Yes.'

Obi-Wan scowled and crept towards the strill, drawing both his vibroblade and blaster. He reached out with the Force, recognizing a spark of animal intelligence just ahead, mind bright with happiness and victory at a successful kill.

The strill was just as ugly as it smelled. Short gray fur bristled across its flappy skin as it tore into the downed shatual. Its front four legs held the shatual in place as it systemically tore the beast into shreds, blood and viscera spreading from the corpse in a gory puddle.

Obi-Wan swallowed roughly and raised his blaster.

Something - the wind, maybe - alerted the predator of his presence as its head snapped up, snarling. The Force barely had time to flare in warning before the strill pounced, fangs and claws extended.

Obi-Wan shouted in surprise and thrust one hand out, catching the strill with the Force, pushing it back, and buying him precious seconds to scramble to his feet.

The strill snarled as it landed, prowling around him in a wide arc. Obi-Wan raised his blaster and aimed for the creature's center of mass, Force at the ready for any unexpected surprises. The Force trilled right as the strill leapt, and Obi-Wan twisted to one side, blaster landing a fiery score across the loose skin of the strill's underbelly.

He cursed under his breath. That would only make the animal angrier.

The strill snarled as it landed and immediately bounded up a nearby tree. Obi-Wan shifted closer to the shatual body, tracking the strill as it jumped from tree to tree around him.

He dove to one side as the strill fell almost on top of him, blaster snapping out three quick bolts. The strill whimpered as it landed, and Obi-Wan frowned as he realized he had only caught one of the six legs instead of the animal's vulnerable chest.

It would hurt, but it wouldn't incapacitate.

Apparently it hurt enough, as the strill picked up its injured leg and fled into the forest. Obi-Wan grit his teeth and followed, eyes scanning everywhere for disturbed foliage and blood.

Despite the injury, the strill was fast, quickly disappearing among the veshok trees. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, searching for that combination of intelligence and anger/hurt/fear/hunger that was the strill among similar animal minds.

He scowled as he felt the strill escape to the edge of his awareness. If he were better with the Force - if he were a real Jedi - he would be able to feel it out from across the planet. He picked up the pace, using the Force to vault himself over a downed tree and enhance his speed.

But it was no good. The strill was clever and knew the forest better than Obi-Wan did. He drew to a stop, panting, as he recognized that his target had escaped.

As he caught his breath, he realized Jango was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, reaching out with the Force for the familiar presence, but only finding the relatively dull glimmers of animals instead. He reached for his commlink and paused.

He wasn't asking for help. He wouldn't. Not for this.

He could do this. Jango thought he could do this, so he could do this. He would not let Jango down.

He flipped a switch on the device allowing it to broadcast his location, and tucked it back in his belt pouch. Whether Jango needed the tracking signal or not, it settled something deep inside knowing Jango would absolutely be able to find him.

And if the strill did kill him, at least Jango would be able to find his corpse.

With that cheery thought, Obi-Wan carefully examined his surroundings. There, off to the side and high in the trees, were what looked like claw marks, and lower on the trunk were a few spatters of blood.

He followed those signs for some distance, trusting the Force to keep him mostly pointed in the right direction and his own eyes the rest of the way, and emerged in a small rocky clearing. He scoured the lichen covered rock for the telltale blood spots he had been following, and headed back into the forest.

As he came upon a small rocky clearing, he was forced to admit the strill was far more clever than he had given credit. He drew his knife, marked the false trail, and tried a different path.

The third time he entered the small rocky clearing, Jango was waiting for him.

"Not a word," Obi-Wan demanded, finally locating what he hoped was the real trail.

Jango didn't move, but he also didn't say a word, so Obi-Wan counted that as a win. He determinedly ignored whatever emotions Jango was bleeding into the Force.

The third path led him into the foothills of a mountain and down into a shallow stream. He scowled at the cheery water feature, just knowing the strill had used that to well and truly lose him.

"Do you have a plan?" Jango asked as he drew close.

Obi-Wan sighed, releasing his frustration to the Force, and took a seat on a conveniently flat rock. "We weren't taught more than basic tracking skills," Obi-Wan admitted, "but I did spend a lot of time hiding from and chasing down my friends in the creche. Whenever someone got really good at hiding, we could generally locate them if we meditated and really focused, so I'm going to give that a shot."

"Does that work for anyone?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "The better you know who you're searching for, the easier it gets. I got a decent feel for the strill while we were fighting, so with some luck I should be able to find it. At least, I should, as long as it hasn't gone too far away," which they both knew was unlikely given the strill's injury.

Jango didn't have anything to say to that, so Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew the Force around him. Energy swelled, and Obi-Wan concentrated, dragging his attention away from Jango's bright light to pick through the dimmer threads surrounding them.

His attention slid to a knot of threads vaguely resembling his target and a herd of shatuale. The strill-thread watched closely, its focus on the runt-thread at the back of the herd with the gimp leg, as the herd gathered at a sizeable bush. The runt dropped its head to gather some berries, and the strill pounced, air catching the gliding skin between its legs and depositing the predator's claws on the shatual's neck.

The shatuale-threads panicked, bolted, and fled, leaving the strill-thread and the dying shatual-thread behind but not forgotten. As Obi-Wan watched, the shatual-thread frayed and split, the pieces carried away on some indiscernible breeze to tangle themselves with the shatuale herd and the strill ripping strips out of an empty shell.

And those scattered threads suddenly contracted, bright and solid and demanding, dragging the herd and the strill-thread, now frayed in places, together. He watched as the mess of threads collided and tangled, forming some knotted mess he could hardly pick apart before it suddenly dispersed, leaving only a few frayed remains behind.

He frowned at the unhelpful vision. Something - the Force? - frowned right back.

He prodded at the frayed remains and felt a flash of very animal alarm/protect/hunt in return.

He kept that thread firmly in mind as he carefully eased himself from the Force.

"Find something?" Jango asked evenly, though after his latest deep meditation the man might as well have been screaming his worry, curiosity, and fascination to the galaxy for all he was masking the emotions.

"I think so," Obi-Wan answered, rising to his feet and nearly tumbling to the ground as his vision temporarily blacked out. "Whoa. How long was I out?"

"Four hours," Jango answered, stowing the blaster he had been cleaning. He fished a nutribar from one of his numerous pouches and threw it at Obi-Wan. "Eat and drink. The water is safe."

Obi-Wan scowled but obediently bit down on the dry bar before chasing it with water and venturing back into the forest. The strill-thread felt different outside that plane of deep meditation, but he had a direction to follow and he wasn't about to let it slip away again.

He almost wished he had waited to finish the nutribar before chasing the strill. His mouth felt sandy, and he hadn't thought to fill a canteen before leaving the stream behind.

The strill-thread remained steady in his mind, and he couldn't help the slight increase in pace as he caught the first pungent whiff of the beast. He cloaked himself in the Force as if he were hiding from Quin and approached slowly, senses straining for any sign the strill knew he was approaching.

He heard growling and an answering whuff just ahead. He ducked down, drawing his blaster and checking the Force. Jango was still several meters away, and it felt like the strill was distracted by a sizeable herd of angry shatuale.

Angry herbivores. That was not something he would have expected.

The lead shatual ducked its head, antlers pointed straight at the strill, and whuffed another warning. The strill growled and darted forwards, forward paws raised to slash.

Obi-Wan could only watch as the shatual charged, caught the strill in the points of its antlers, and tossed it aside like trash. The other shatuale dropped their heads and followed suit, hooves trampling the strill into the dirt. The lead shatual stopped long enough to study its target, whuffed and pawed at the ground, and tossed its head in victory as the strill whined pathetically.

He sat stunned for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do as the shatuale proudly left the area. He was supposed to hunt the strill, but a herd of prey animals came and did the deed for him. Did it count if he tracked it, fought it, and ultimately didn't kill it?

But no, the poor animal wasn't dead yet.

He could feel the creature's pain, see how it struggled to breathe around a crushed ribcage. Its limbs were shattered in multiple locations, the grey fur already matted with blood where its thick skin had burst. The shatuale hadn't killed the strill, but there was no way the strill would survive much longer.

He felt a swell of pity for the thing as he approached. There was no way he could help it; even if he had enough bacta on him (which he definitely didn't), the creature would sooner kill him than let him approach.

He met the animal's gold eyes, unfocused and cloudy though they were, and tried to press peace and comfort on its mind. Something stirred and weakly nudged against his mind, leaving an impression of pain/sad/hungry.

The strill released a wet whine and blood burbled past its lips. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in mourning, pressed a suggestion to sleep on the rapidly weakening creature, and shot it clean between the eyes.

It really was a mercy this time.

He rose to his feet as he heard Jango approach. "I killed it, but a herd of shatuale did most of the work first," he blurted out, stowing his blaster.

Jango came to stop next to him, staring down at the corpse before turning his helmeted face towards him. "That's okay," Jango said. "I told you before, the verd'goten is traditionally a hunt between clan members. This was a test to see how advanced your survival and fighting skills were, and based on what I've seen, you're more than skilled enough." He smiled behind the helmet, one hand resting proudly on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Congratulations, verd."

Verd. Soldier. Warrior.

Jango's smile became tender as he squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, vod."

Obi-Wan beamed.

[pengiesama]

Dies Caniculares (Fic, Mikleo/Sorey, Fantasy/God AU) (Chapter 1/6)

Title: Dies Caniculares (Chapter 1/6) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey

Summary: Mikleo dreams of travelling the world, having exciting adventures like his uncle. Unfortunately, he lives a pretty boring life in the tiny mountain village of Camlann. If he's not working at his family's temple, he's having to deal with his mother's constant attempts to match-make him to every eligible girl in town.

He also happens to be best friends with a god. That god happens to be a dog, who happens to be able to turn into a frustratingly handsome young man. Complications, as they do, inevitably crop up.

CHAPTER ONE:

Mikleo gets dumped, gets his snacks stolen, and isn't allowed to get drunk -- but it's still a pretty good day regardless.

(CONTENT WARNING: shapeshifting, eventual mpreg.)

Link: AO3

This is a collaboration between me and @sensenaoya! I'm honored to be allowed to write for their wonderful AU, and even more honored to have their lovely art illustrating it!

Please heed all content warnings!

Check out my commission info here.

Read on Tumblr!

“We need to talk,” Himeko said gravely.

Mikleo gave a pained smile over the rim of his teacup, and lightly set it back down on its saucer.

“Of course,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Himeko took a deep breath, and launched into a screed that Mikleo had heard few dozen times before – in different voices, and with different finer details, but with the same overarching message.

Mikleo was twenty-four years old, and had earned something of a reputation in town and the surrounding villages. This reputation was not entirely undeserved, when looking at the hard facts: he’d dated and broken the hearts of roughly sixty-three percent of the eligible female population in a fifty-mile radius. However, Mikleo wasn’t a heartbreaker by choice. His mother was dead set on chaining him to the village by any means necessary, and “You Need to Settle Down and Start a Family” was her current weapon of choice; when “You Need to Honor Our Family’s Duty and Tend to the Temple” had failed to inspire piety. The thing was, Mikleo also had no interest in settling down and absolutely no interest in children, so Muse had elected to force him on dates with every unmarried woman that she passingly caught the name of. She was a one-woman matchmaking service, and it was quite impressive in its own way. Though Mikleo did wonder how she managed to keep up with the temple’s day-to-day needs while taking on this little side gig of hers.

(Idly, as Himeko went on and on, Mikleo wondered how it would go if he brought up that point during his and his mother’s next fight. It would probably go very badly.)

Although Muse’s zeal for matchmaking was abundant, the quality of the matches...left something to be desired. Not a single one of these little relationships had lasted longer than a few weeks, and most of them crashed and burned quite spectacularly. (Usually the “burning” wasn’t literal; one memorable breakup notwithstanding.) Mikleo knew that he wasn’t a good fit for these girls – they wanted a quiet little life in the village and somewhere between two and a dozen children, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this town and travel the world with his uncle. Their life goals were simply incompatible, and even when it came to the finer details of shared hobbies and interests, kindred passions...well, there simply weren’t any. Mikleo could only think of one other person other than his uncle who shared his passion for history, and he—

“—honestly, from the rumors going around about you, I thought you’d be more – you know, more pushy, more of a scoundrel! Ravishing me against walls and over tables! But you’re more affectionate with that raggedy dog of yours than you are with me!” Himeko declared.

Himeko was clearly waiting for Mikleo to deny it, to reaffirm his devotion to her. The table fell into an eerie silence. Mikleo stared evenly at her, his expression very carefully blank.

“...’raggedy’?” Mikleo repeated.

Himeko shifted uncomfortably under Mikleo’s piercing gaze, and hemmed and hawed a moment before collecting herself. “Y-yes, well, I don’t know how else you want me to describe it. That bizarre fur that it’s always shedding on everything, and smelling like it’s just rolled in something foul, and that brainless expression it always has on its face--”

“I’m sorry,” Mikleo interrupted. “This isn’t going to work out.”

Mikleo signaled for the check, and the waitress brought it over wordlessly – she’d been witness to enough of these breakups that she knew to prepare herself the moment Mikleo walked in the door. Himeko sputtered, turned cherry red, and snatched up her purse before bounding to her feet. She stood in front of Mikleo, glaring down at him where he sat. He maintained eye contact, and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I hope you and that mutt keep each other company, and have a long life together,” she snapped before storming out of the cafe.

Mikleo wondered if that was supposed to be an insult. He bent down to dig in his pack for his wallet. The waitress took his money, and began to clear up the table as Mikleo finished his tea.

“She keeps looking back over her shoulder,” said the waitress. (She was named Lily, and had once been subjected to Muse’s matchmaking quest as well. Her breakup with Mikleo was years in the past now, however, and her doting husband was the village’s baker.) “I think she’s expecting you to chase after her.”

“Is she now?” Mikleo asked flatly. He swirled the tea in his cup before he took a sip.

Lily chuckled and shook her head. “Well, at least this one didn’t slap you. I had a cold washcloth all ready for you just in case.”

“You’re too kind.” Mikleo rose to his feet, and bowed at his waist. “Sorry about the commotion. As usual.”

“Are you kidding? We get so many customers who come in to watch the show. I think there’s a betting pool.”

Mikleo was happy to hear that he was supporting the local economy, and less happy to hear that he was the town’s designated soap opera star. His long brown hair, tied back in a low ponytail, hid how his ears burned red. He bade Lily farewell, and ducked out the cafe’s side door. He had a busy day ahead of him, and couldn’t let the embarrassment of yet another very public breakup get to his head. He had appointments at two houses, today, and had to run back to the temple to dress beforehand, and listen to his mother tut about how he just wasn’t trying to make it work with all the perfectly lovely girls she’d picked out for him—

Mikleo’s thoughts were interrupted by the press of a cold wet nose against his hand. Mikleo jumped, then sighed, and tried his best not to smile. Sorey’s sparkling green eyes gazed up at him; his expression bright and curious. (“Brainless”. Honestly, one would have to be pretty empty-headed themselves to even – no, no, there was no point in going down that path. Mikleo was a single man once more, and moreover, brooding would do him no good during his upcoming house-calls.) Mikleo reached down to ruffle Sorey’s coat, and rub at his soft ears. Sorey whined happily, his tail picking up speed and his tongue poking out of his muzzle as he leaned his head in to relish Mikleo’s touch. Mikleo felt his heart ache with fondness. Honestly, what was he to do with him.

“Come on,” Mikleo said. “We need to head back to the temple before I’m late for my house visits.”

Sorey trotted in step beside Mikleo, matching his pace as he always did. Mikleo knew that Sorey had all the speed and grace of the lightning that pierced the sky, and that poking along this sleepy village street was surely beneath his dignity as a god – and yet Sorey still walked beside him, ever since that fateful day in front of the temple.

A foul smell reached Mikleo’s nose, jolting him from his reverie. He crinkled his nose, and eyed Sorey as they walked.

“...were you rolling in something?” Mikleo asked sternly.

Sorey flinched, and he looked up at Mikleo with soulful, apologetic eyes. His soft fluffy ears lowered, making him a portrait of sincere, smelly contrition. Mikleo had a special weakness for Sorey’s puppy-eye look, and did not appreciate having said weakness targeted. He averted his eyes and managed to keep walking, keep focusing on the important things – getting back to the temple, getting to his appointments, and the fact that Sorey smelled like musky garlic that’d been baking in the sun too long.

“Sorry,” Sorey said. They were at the temple’s steps, and no one was around to hear him speak. “I’m...guessing your date didn’t go too well?”

“Nope,” Mikleo replied. He was already over it, not that there was really anything to get over. Himeko was surely right for someone, but Mikleo had little patience for the dramatic princess act. “And don’t try to change the subject. What were you--”

“Mikleo!”

Mikleo looked up to see his mother, resplendent in her priestess robes, approaching him. Her smile was bright and hopeful, and Mikleo felt a twinge of annoyance at the sight of it. (And no little guilt at that fact.)

“You’re back! How did it go with Himeko today?”

“Horribly,” Mikleo stated. “We didn’t work out. I’m sure she’ll be cursing my name all over town for the next few months.”

Muse sighed heavily, but didn’t really seem to be surprised by the statement. “Mikleo. You really need to try a bit harder. These girls are all so lovely, and you don’t let them get to know you at all...”

Muse sniffed the air, made a face, and looked down to where Sorey had sat himself at her feet. Sorey beamed his sweet doggy smile up at her, and wagged his tail; lifting one hopeful paw to ask for pets.

“--Sorey, you--” Muse coughed at the foul smell and covered her nose with her long sleeves, but leaned down to delicately pat Sorey’s head in spite of the olfactory assault. “Mikleo, please...before you go, would you...”

“I’ll take care of him,” Mikleo assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m off to get ready for my appointments.”

Thankfully, being as Sorey was a holy spirit of heaven-on-high, it wasn’t blasphemous for Mikleo to firmly instruct him to go wash off in the ceremonial waterfall on the temple grounds while Mikleo took a bath inside. Mikleo would have simply had him bathe indoors with him if Sorey wasn’t quite so smelly, and if Mikleo didn’t have business to attend to after. Mikleo walked out of the baths and back to his room, to find that Sorey had returned in his absence.

“All clean!” Sorey announced, smiling bright. “Promise. I even washed behind my ears. In both forms!”

Sorey had transformed into his human form, and was seated on Mikleo’s bed; casual, cross-legged, and half-naked. A towel was draped around his strong, broad shoulders, and his dripping-wet hair seemed to sparkle in the noonday light filtering through Mikleo’s windows. Water wandered in trails down Sorey’s bare chest and back and arms, outlining his muscles and making his tan skin glow. The drips meandered down Sorey’s body so enviously casually, and settled dark and damp at the hem of his trousers. Mikleo had lived his whole life in the presence of divinity, in the sight of sculptures and etchings of perfect, heavenly forms. Mikleo had lived almost his whole life by Sorey’s side. This practice hardly prepared him to stand upright at the sight of Sorey in this state, but he managed.

“...you’re dripping on my bed,” Mikleo said quietly.

Sorey blinked at him, then down at the bed, then scratched at his cheek, embarrassed. “...sorry. But I got myself a towel!”

Yes, that tiny towel draped around those obscene shoulders of yours is doing so much for us right now, Mikleo thought to himself bitterly. He shook his head and averted his gaze (with no small effort), and went to his closet to dress.

“Just two houses today, if you want to tag along,” Mikleo said. His bath-robe fell to the floor around his feet. The cool air made goosebumps prickle along Mikleo’s bare skin. “I’m sure you’ve had a busy day already.”

A busy day of napping, chasing butterflies, and hitting up the village butcher for scraps. Mikleo turned with a smile on his face as he tied his robes into place, to see Sorey covering his eyes with both hands. Mikleo raised an eyebrow.

“Sorey. You’ve seen me dress before.”

Sorey peeped between his fingers.

“…yeah, but…”

Sorey trailed off, letting the rest of that statement hang between them. Mikleo sat down next to him on the bed, and settled a brush and hair tie in Sorey’s lap.

“Here. Help me put it up today, won’t you?”

Sorey’s face lit up as if Mikleo had offered him a fine spread of gourmet delicacies, and Mikleo dutifully turned to allow him to work. Mikleo let very few people touch his hair – none of the girls he’d dated had ever gotten the privilege – and even Sorey was granted permission only on special occasions. Mikleo was feeling sentimental, today, perhaps – or maybe he just was still stewing over that “raggedy” comment from earlier. Sorey brushed his hair gently, reverently; carding his fingers through the strands to coax it up. Mikleo let his eyes slide shut at the feeling. Honestly, “raggedy”. Sorey’s coat as a dog was soft as silk and glittered in the sun, and his hair as a human was pulled into a romantically-tousled high ponytail. He looked a bit rumpled, sometimes – when they came home from a hike through the forest, and Sorey managed to get more branches and leaves stuck in his hair than any of the actual bushes or trees – but his heavenly presence always shone through loud and clear. Mikleo didn’t have the time or patience for anyone who couldn’t see something so obvious.

“All done!” Sorey sounded proud.

Mikleo looked himself over in the mirror. Honestly, not a bad job at all.

“It’ll do for now,” Mikleo said. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

--

 The temple was called upon to bless and cleanse households and properties on a regular basis. Frequent cleansings prevented the buildup of malevolence, and decreased the strain on the region’s god, Maotelus. Malevolence built up more quickly in more populated areas, or in locales where bad energy was frequently generated – thus, a quiet village farm could get away with a cleansing only once or twice a year, while the village square called for weekly blessings. Family homes usually called upon the temple’s services every few months, and as the son of the temple’s head priestess, Mikleo often found himself making these house calls personally. The lower-ranked priests and priestesses were tasked with the repetitive and less personal cleanings of public areas, and the older, higher-ranked priests and priestesses served Maotelus directly. Mikleo didn’t envy the work of either faction, but visiting homes directly wasn’t a cakewalk either. Mikleo had to smile and make small talk and listen to gossip, and deal with the judgmental stares when he visited an ex-girlfriend’s family home. Worse, some of these places had barking dogs. All of these factors were equally unpleasant.

Luckily, neither of the homes today were overly-complicated appointments. Both had asked for a simple, straightforward blessing – armed with staff and holy sutras, Mikleo was able to sweep away the malevolence in the air and gathering in the corners of the foundation. Some homes were hotbeds of drama and sorrow, and required top-to-bottom cleanings with holy water – Mikleo usually was able to bring a few temple attendants as assistants to these difficult appointments. A certain amount of malevolence was a part of human existence, but if Mikleo suspected foul play, he reported his findings to his mother at the temple; Muse then saw to it that the source of the matter was investigated. A household continually generating bad energy was a strain on Maotelus, and a strain on the village’s harmony. It was Mikleo’s duty to determine what begged a closer look.

The sun was beginning to set, and Mikleo and Sorey were on their way home; Mikleo’s arms filled with offerings made by the household in thanks for the temple’s service. Homes presented many things as offerings, and today, Mikleo had lucked out and been presented with two boxes of beautifully-made sweets from the town’s bakery. The sweet bean paste filling each perfectly-round miniature cake was rich and smooth; the perfect complement to the subtle resistance the mochi shell gave to the bite of Mikleo’s teeth. Mikleo savored two treats from the box on the walk back, and Sorey – well, “savoring” wasn’t the term. It implied a certain level of care and slowness of consumption that Sorey absolutely did not do. However, he clearly enjoyed it; the drool was evidence enough.

They passed by Zaveid’s bar on the way back; the Spring Breeze. Mikleo eyed it, considering. He wanted very badly to get home and crawl into bed, but these sweets would be perfect with a drink or two…Mikleo felt Sorey tugging on the hem on his robe with his teeth, and looked down, frowning.

“Sorey. I can have a drink if I want to,” Mikleo said sternly.

Sorey made a whiny little howl, and tangled himself in Mikleo’s legs stubbornly. He couldn’t speak aloud to him – there were too many people around outside the bar – but he made enough of a nuisance of himself for Mikleo to give up and keep walking to the temple. Once they were out of earshot of the crowds, Mikleo requested an explanation.

Sorey’s ears went low, and those damn eyes of his stared up at him. Mikleo’s face flushed, and he managed to look away before the effect floored him.

“You can’t go in there looking…like that,” Sorey said. “Who knows what someone who’s had a few too many drinks will try to do!”

Mikleo didn’t really understand what Sorey was implying – he wasn’t planning on getting sloppy drunk while in temple dress, if he was concerned about Mikleo besmirching the temple’s good image. He also was fully capable of defending himself against some drunk who wanted to fight; not that Zaveid would let any of that go on in his bar. Still, the urge for a drink had passed, and they were back at the temple once more.

“I want to share some of these with Maotelus,” Sorey said, and stood in front of Mikleo until Mikleo slotted one of the boxes into Sorey’s waiting jaws for him to carry.

“Don’t sample too many on your way there,” Mikleo said, only half-joking. “I’ll go change and then come up to offer my respects.”

Maotelus was the region’s chief god, and the temple had the peerless honor of being his seat in the earthly realm. Mikleo did not see him often – after all, it was the job of the more senior temple staff to attend to him – but their past interactions had been wholly pleasant. Maotelus was warm, friendly, and as down-to-earth as a god could really be. He often asked about whatever Mikleo was currently reading or studying, and was just as excited to hear about what Mikleo’s uncle Michael was getting up to as Mikleo and Sorey were. He could have passed for another one of Mikleo’s uncles, if not for the fact that he took the form of a white dragon, about the size of a draft horse. His radiance and imposing figure was only undercut a bit by his youthful-sounding voice. Mikleo hadn’t ever seen him in a more human state – perhaps that kind of thing was improper for a god of his stature.

The rest of the temple was silent, devoid of any attendants rushing about – most had gone home for the day. True to his word, Mikleo climbed up to the highest part of the temple grounds, kowtowed at the gates, and went in to pay his respects.

“Mikleo! Good to see you.”

The greeting from Maotelus seemed a bit abrupt, a bit forced – as if Mikleo had walked in on a conversation that needed to remain a secret. Mikleo couldn’t pretend not to be curious (curiosity was in his nature, after all), but was a respectful man at heart – he knew better than to pry into godly business. Or…whatever he and Sorey were getting up to in their little clubhouse up here. Mikleo eyed the empty sweets boxes, and spied a teetering pile of more empty boxes stashed in a corner.

“Lord Maotelus,” Mikleo said, bowing low and placing his forehead upon the ground. “It’s an honor, as always.”

“Please, get up. Tell me what you’ve been up to lately.”

Mikleo shifted into a more comfortable position, and fixed the fall of his hair over his shoulder. “What can I say, really? Same as always. Uncle Michael should hopefully be visiting home soon; he’d have much more interesting things to tell you.”

“Will he?” Maotelus asked. He sounded almost relieved. “Good, that’s good.”

Maotelus seemed… he was still magnificent, of course, but he seemed smaller than Mikleo last remembered him. It was maybe just a trick of the waning light, or a fault in Mikleo’s memory. But the exhaustion written all over Maotelus’ face was no trick, to be certain. Mikleo felt a twinge of guilt. It was his duty to keep the town cleansed of malevolence, to decrease Maotelus’ strain on keeping the realm prosperous. Was he slacking on his appointments? Were his heartbreaking escapades causing a storm of negative energy to arise from the town’s distraught women? Mikleo fretted. He would have to scout the town tomorrow, to see if he could detect any increase in negativity.

“…I see that you enjoyed the offerings,” Mikleo observed.

“We did,” Maotelus agreed. “I…don’t suppose you could rustle us up some more next time you’re out?”

Sorey’s puppy eyes were hard enough to handle on their own, and paired with Maotelus’ pleading, hopeful look…well, Mikleo didn’t stand a chance.

“Of course,” Mikleo promised. “But don’t let Sorey steal all of them. He’s been getting a bit of a belly recently.”

“Hey!” Sorey said, offended. He scowled down at his stomach and poked it with a finger. “I have not.”

“I’ll try my best,” Maotelus said with a chuckle. “Now, why don’t you two head off to bed? It’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Sorey said. He leaned over to stroke Maotelus’ muzzle with his hand. “Night, Mao.”

“Good night, Lord Maotelus.”

They slipped out the grand door that led to Maotelus’ chambers and into the cool night air. Sorey had transformed back into his dog form, and trotted alongside Mikleo as they walked back to the temple’s living chambers.

“You and Maotelus seem to be close, lately,” Mikleo observed. “What have the two of you been getting into together? Hopefully nothing that the attendants will have to clean up after.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Sorey assured before trotting ahead of Mikleo. “You promised to get us more sweets, though? Really promised?”

So, it was a secret, then. Mikleo tried not to feel hurt – since when did he and Sorey have any secrets between them? – and look at it logically. There were simply some things beyond mortal comprehension; godly business that humans had no business prying into. He could leave it at that, and try to quash the curiosity that still nagged at him.

Still, maybe he could buy himself a seat in Sorey and Maotelus’ clubhouse with some treats.

“Yes, yes, I really will. I’ll have the priests bring them up starting tomorrow.”

Sorey cast a beaming doggie smile over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out of his mouth joyously. Mikleo couldn’t help but smile back, and jogged to catch up with Sorey. The day was done, and tomorrow was yet to come – it was time to rest, and dream of the wide world outside the village gates.

And maybe, if luck was on his side, Muse would give him a few days’ break before setting up another date.

–

Chapter Directory

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[revasnaslan]

Lost and Found

Written for @platonicvldweek Day 1 Sleep / Nightmare.

Ao3 Link | beta’d by @voxiferous

Thace had been having trouble sleeping—it had been nearly a rotation now. In an attempt to ease the ache that his mother’s passing had left in his chest, Thace’s father had decided to bring him back to the Blade of Marmora’s main base, to visit with his older sister. His father had hoped that being off their home planet and out of the house would make it a little easier for him to adjust. He was still rather young, having only just celebrated his sixth name day, so it would be a rather large adjustment, but…

His father had thought that being around some cubs his own age would help him, too—like it had the first time he had come to the main base a couple of rotations ago, also to visit his sister.

The only cub who lived on the main base permanently was Thace’s friend, Antok, though. Even if Antok could be… tiring, given his seemingly endless reserves of energy, Thace had still been excited to see his friend. Antok and his foundmother, Evren, had actually been there to greet Thace and his father when they had arrived at the docking bay. Antok had wiggled out of Evren’s grasp to bowl Thace over, and for just a couple of ticks, Thace’s sadness over his mother had disappeared—he was happy to see his friend again after being apart for nearly five rotations. When Evren had suggested a sleepover, Thace’s father had encouraged Thace to go ahead, since he was leaving in the morning and Loren, Thace’s sister, was busy with her training.

Of course, now it was the middle of the night cycle, and Antok was sound asleep—and snoring much louder than a cub his size reasonably should have been. And squeaking too, but all cubs squeaked. Thace knew he still did when he wanted attention. So he could put up with the snoring and squeaking, but when Antok began accidentally kicking him, Thace finally shoved Antok’s shoulder.

Antok snorted and woke up, yawning wide as he sat up. “What’d you do that for?” he asked, sounding a little hurt.

“Sorry,” Thace mumbled. “You kicked me while you were sleeping.”

“Ev says I do that a lot,” Antok said. His ears went alert, standing up straight and shifting forward as his tail thumped against the sheets. He tilted his head to the side, ears twitching as he stared at Thace. However, he still appeared to only be half awake as he began rubbing one of his eyes. When he spoke next, he did so through a yawn. “What were you doing up, anyway? It’s sleep time… Ev said so.”

“Can’t sleep…” was all Thace managed to say. He didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to be annoying. Antok was clearly tired, and he didn’t want to bother Evren, who was asleep on the other side of the room—Thace could just barely hear her breathing from here. Instead, he waved Antok off. “Just go back to bed. I’m fine.”

However, upon noticing Thace’s poor attitude, Antok appeared to wake up a little more, and his brow furrowed in concern. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he rolled out of bed and grabbed Thace by the arm. Even though they were roughly the same size, Antok was much stronger than his size suggested, and Thace stumbled as he tried not to end up falling face first onto the floor of Antok’s room.

“Where are we—” he started, but Antok cut him off.

“To Ev!” Antok said. “She always chases my nightmares away. Now, c’mon!”

Antok dragged Thace around the decorative screen that only served to separate Antok’s section of the room from the rest of it, which was technically his foundmother’s. The screen mostly gave Antok some semblance of privacy if he wanted it, but Thace suspected Antok spent more nights cuddling with his foundmother than he did in his own bed. If only because it was comforting to have someone there.

Evren was lying on her side with her back to them, but given her even breathing, she was already asleep.

“Antok… she’s sleeping,” Thace whispered, not wanting to bother her.

Antok, however, had no such reservations. He snorted, looking over his shoulder at Thace and frowning. “Yeah, so?” And then he let go of Thace’s hand, climbed up onto the bed, and started shaking Evren’s shoulder. “Ev? Eeeeeev?”

Evren let out a soft groan as she rolled over and propped herself up. “What is it, kitling?” she asked patiently, reaching out to lightly ruffle Antok’s headfur, between his ears. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Antok grinned as she ruffled his fur, but quickly shook his head and pointed to Thace. “He says he can’t sleep…” And then, Antok’s ears perked up as an excited expression appeared on his features. “Can we go get Van? He’s the best at chasing away nightmares!”

Evren sighed, tilting her head to the side. “Van is sleeping, kitling… he just got back from that off-base mission, remember?” she asked as she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. Then, she motioned for Thace to join her and Antok up on the bed. Once he had, she reached out to lightly run her fingers over his crest. “Now, what seems to be the problem, Thace?”

“Can’t sleep…” Thace said, using the same excuse as before. He didn’t like having this much attention on him, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed—to try and sleep. While he avoided looking Evren directly in the eye, he was hoping she would drop it and shoo them back off to sleep. However, Evren didn’t seem to be buying it any more than Antok had.

Her ears flicked and her brow furrowed in concern as her gaze softened considerably. “This is because of your mama… isn’t it, kitling?” she asked gently.

Thace’s ears perked up, twitching against the sides of his head. He hadn’t expected her to know about his mother’s death—not unless his father had told her, which was a possibility. He also was surprised that she had used the pet name she normally reserved for Antok. Evren had never called him that before. He hesitated for too long, enough that Evren’s expression shifted from soft to sympathetic.

“What happened to his mama?” Antok asked, eyes widening as his ears pinned back.

“His mama joined the stars, kitling…” Evren explained in the same soft tone, as she lightly ran her hand between Antok’s ears. “Like when we visited my uncle in the Hall of the Fallen? Do you remember that?”

Antok nodded. “The place with the plates.”

“That’s right,” Evren said. “Thace’s mama will get a plate soon, once Archivist Vini can make one.”

There was a pause where Antok seemed to think. Thace could tell by the way the tip of Antok’s tail was twitching back and forth incessantly. He was expecting Antok to ask more about the plates, or about when Thace’s mother’s funeral was going to happen, but what Antok said next surprised him.

“Can I share?” Antok asked, tilting his head to the side.

“… share, kitling?” Evren said, ears twitching in confusion.

“You’re my foundmother because my birthmother’s gone,” Antok said, ears standing at attention. “You can be Thace’s foundmother too!”

A soft huff of amusement left Evren as she gave a fond smile. Then, she reached out to ruffle Antok’s headfur. “It doesn’t work like that, kitling… I am your foundmother because you chose me—”

“And I can’t take your mama…” Thace added, shaking his head quickly. What he didn’t say out loud was that even though he liked Evren at lot… she wouldn’t be able to replace his mother. It was still too fresh in his mind for him to even think of replacing her.

“But I said I would share!” Antok insisted. “And my mama is the best!”

Evren leaned down to lightly butt her nose against Antok’s temple, earning a soft chirp in return. Even though she was smiling, Thace noticed the nervous twitch of her ears. Then, she turned her attention back to Thace. “I know that I can’t be your foundmother, Thace… but perhaps I can help you?” she suggested. “You and Antok can stay here with me, if you’d like…”

“Will you purr?” Antok asked, already nudging his way underneath Evren’s arm and getting comfortable at her side. As soon as Thace did the same, Evren did begin purring deep in her chest as she tried to lull them to sleep. Antok fell back asleep after only a few doboshes. Thace still had a hard time, but he eventually drifted off after Evren began lightly stroking his headfur, just like his mother always had.

He even began purring, right before he finally drifted off.