#i drew lumine because I choose lumine as traveler but this is me

[erabu-san]

Why does it feel like i betray my bros

[jhuzen]

Me the Waman guy, i love Wamans, happy women's day to all. My Ask would be affectionately asking for M!Reader returning from a mission completely wounded, going to the kitchen, giving a kiss in (Character you feel comfortable writing) and saying he missed her and refusing to let her go

beauty in simplicity [m.reader]

IM SO DANG LATE FOR THE WOMEN’S DAY. BUT BUT HERE IT IS SJAIDMCIWDC. lmao this fic’s process is just me recalling what it’s like to romance the only woman i dated after eating half of the men population because i cannot for the life of me write an m/f in a breeze. good times. ANYWAY. I’M A SIMP FOR THE TRAVELERS. SO I CHOSE LUMINE 😭 except there’s a catch,,, tis abyss lumine <3

𖦹 angst (moderate to heavy), death, fluffy in the end, abyss lumine, fairytale allusions

“Sire, the opposing force have been dealt with.” the Abyss Lector behind you had a hint of somberness in its voice. And even then you can understand why — your current expedition in accordance to the current plan of the Abyss Order did not exactly go off so well. There were vision holders brave enough to fend off you and your comrades.

Though it took their fickle lives away in the end, that did not mean your party suffered some collateral damage. It wasn’t the prettiest battle after all, and as your greatsword stayed planted on the ground littered with gallons of spilled blood from either parties, you can only grieve for your comrades.

“…Okay. Thank you.”

“Shall we get you treated, sire? You’re in quite a bad shape.”

You drew in a deep shaky breath as your long gone adrenaline aided you in feeling the most excruciating pain all over your body. You weren’t a clumsy man on the battlefield, but some of the weaker links had to be protected, and you figured it’s either them or you — and a captain never yields in front of his comrades, nor does he allow them to perish when he’s close by.

But even then you couldn’t find yourself completely able to treat these wounds, allowing them to fester within you like a parasite that gnawed and destroyed your body from the inside out. You’ve had plenty of battle scars already, that much you couldn’t particularly deny — but it’s the sheer fact that today was somehow managed to hit you harder than the most, that there was a blatant realization of the fact that today, you lost many of your men.

You honestly wondered how you can even sleep at night at this point. Your fellowmen, cursed with the eternity of immortality and with you all the same — for centuries you’ve had to witness everything, every death, every betrayal, and every conundrum knock you down.

But you would endure it for her. Your princess. And as her knight, you would do well in not dishonoring her name, you would keep waking up in that accursed morning if it meant you could aid your beloved princess in her mission — even if it meant you had to bear these scars your whole life… until this curse is lifted from you, until you can’t take it anymore.

Your silence was enough to worry the Abyss Lector, you were normally on the move, constantly walking around to check on whoever survived, supervising every little thing, mourning your fallen comrades. But today, you were so quiet, and even the Abyss Lector could barely hear your shallow breathing despite the little distance between the two of you. Concern lingered on your subordinate as you stewed in silence.

“Sire? Shall I carry you to the infirmary?”

Taking one last breath, you shook your head, “No, thank you. Let me bear the wounds that my brethren bled for a little while longer.” Your hand grasped the handle of your greatsword, pulling it out of the ground, with a consistent strength that you could never lose even after the most tiring battles. “It’s the least I could do.”

If your subordinate could openly express himself to you right now, you would’ve seen the way his eyes softened yet gleamed with pride for you. No doubt that the princess choosing you as her champion was not a mistake in the slightest. For the great strength that you bore came with absolute sympathy for the men around you — leading them to victories with your quick-witted strategies and boosting their morales with the glory and valor you emanated.

Truly the princess deserved someone like you.

Slinging the greatsword over the sheath that hung on your back, you finally turned to your subordinate, eyes glinting with determination and persistence like always, “…Alright, let’s get to work. Run me the statistics of all results, I need to see how many survived and how many died, we can base our next counterattack against vision holders from there. Bury the casualties in a grave… as despicable as they are… they still deserve a proper one.”

The Abyss Lector had no problem adhering to your commands as well as everyone else who can still move and do your bidding — and just like that, with the captain up and running again, the Abyss Order was back on its gears, ready to complete the mission.

Out of all the things that happened, you managed to accomplish the mission that was given to you, heading back into the depths of abyss to aid your wounded comrades, still refusing the many help offered to you from your other subordinates. The princess was nowhere to be found, no doubt making some arrangements herself somewhere else. And much after tending to everyone else, you finally found yourself walking back to your own home.

Perhaps there was something relatively odd at the sight of the great captain of the Abyss Order lugging around his greatsword deep in the woods. You should know, considering the fact that the Abyss became your home. But the humanity left in you was enough to convince the larger part of you that was consumed in darkness to retain some form of normalcy, to live like any other human right now, despite being completely ostracized from the society.

Your home was quaint and peaceful, deep enough so that no wandering adventure would stumble upon it. You’ve heard plenty of stories from some others — apparently some of them had the audacity to loot through some villager’s crates and even steal some root crops.

Nevertheless, it was the escape that you sought from your work. You never needed a little abode like this, you were perfectly fine in the depths of abyss, stewing in it, facing any harbinger that might have descended into it and some poor unfortunate soul that stumbled in unknowingly.

But what you didn’t expect was the smoke coming out of that tiny chimney protruding from the roof of your home. And as if there was a switch flipped within you, suddenly you regained your senses and could smell the faint aroma of that familiar herbal tea that you often shared with your beloved princess.

“Ah… she’s home…”

Your pace picked up and entered your home quick, and you were facing the illustrious princess of the abyss — your beloved, the woman you would absolutely die for and only live to ever serve, was there brewing some tea.

Lumine was far into her own world as she basked in the silence of your shared home. Admittedly, she was surprised when she saw that you managed to make enough time to construct a formidable home in the midst of the tasks she delegated on you. And when she was faced with such a place, warmth only managed to spread through, greatly reminding her of her times with her brother.

She had known you far before she woke Aether up, standing in as the personal knight of one of the most prominent noblemen in Khaenri’ah, protecting him and his lonesome self. Many times had she encountered you when she and Dainsleif had to cross blades with you before because of your neurotic employer.

Who would’ve thought that you would end up working under her in the Abyss Order — much less for you to be her most cherished person now other than her brother; with the countless nights she has spent in your arms, limbs entangled with each other and the bedsheets, living through this quiet forest like a carefree couple.

Lumine jolted as she felt a pair of arms snake into her waist, holding her tight. The familiar warmth engulfed her back and she couldn’t help but lean into your tender hold, closing her eyes with a content smile.

Up until she smelled a faint scent of blood — her eyes flew open and looked down to see your arms that embraced her form, your sleeves torn apart and hacked away with dried blood. She grimaced at the sight of your wounds that would no doubt leave yet another mark on your skin.

“Hey…” her soft murmurs reaches your ears and you can feel Lumine’s gentle hands tracing against your forearms, “You didn’t get yourself patched up?”

She never bothered asking if something went south. She’s intuitive, she can infer that beyond your exhaustion, there was somberness in your arrival. And she can only imagine what happened in that assignment that she sent you and your subordinates back on.

She would mourn them for you and with you. They were her comrades too, after all.

You can only stay silent as the bitterness that enclosed your heart gnawed away at your insides like a pest. Your grip around Lumine tightened as flashes of your men dissipating in ashes appear in your mind like a flash of a kamera, drawing in a shaky breath, you can only nuzzle your nose in your beloved’s soft blonde hair, inhaling that familiar scent that never failed to bring you solace.

Lumine pressed herself further into you as she understood your refusal to let go, her hands slithering under yours before bringing them up, leaning down to brush her lips on your wounds into a sweet kiss — it won’t be enough to heal, but it’s enough to make you feel much safer and better.

“Look, the sunset is directly in view of our window,” Lumine calls onto your attention and you were quick to look up from her tufts of hair, your gaze finding itself fixated on the setting sun that peeked through the tiny window of your kitchen. “I believe that’s everyone about to go to sleep with the stars. They’re saying goodbye to their captain.”

A laugh escapes your parched throat, “Don’t make this any sadder, love.”

“I’m not. It’s a resolution,” you can feel her head shift to the side and lean on your shoulder, her eyes glued on your face, “Something that you need.”

You shook your head, “You know me so well.”

“It’d be crime not to after a good five hundred-odd years.” Her laugh tinkled and the pain that you harbored was slowly being alleviated, leaving you completely breathless yet so full of life at the same time. It was why you admired her so much, and why you of all people are willing to go with her until the ends of this god-forsaken world.

“Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up. It’s almost tea time.”

You stilled in your place despite Lumine’s words, staying rooted as you continued to bask in the lovely orange hues that filtered through the windows of your home, head lolling to drop on her shoulder before you pressed a kiss on the side of her neck.

“Just a little while longer.”

“…Until the kettle starts screaming.”

“I can deal with that.”

It’s times like these that can have you forgetting the fact that you weren’t a cursed being, that you weren’t serving under an Order that’s paving a path of vengeance and salvation. It’s as if you were back in Khaenri’ah, back before the cataclysm, back when you first felt your heart thrum against your chest the day you and Lumine clashed blades against each other.

For once, there was peace and tranquility that nestled in your heart.

And even amidst the whistling kettle, that couldn’t stop you from planting a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you, Lumi.”

But even Lumine thought a forehead kiss was a bit too cheap, as she grabbed onto your cheeks pulled your head further down, meeting your lips halfway with a chaste and tender kiss.

“And I, you, my love.”

This is a testament that even fairytales can come true, with the princess and her knight in shining armor finally settling down in a nice home to hold their love and memories with each other.

[arhvste]

❝ eyeliner ❞

kuroo x reader — in which you beg your boyfriend to let you do his eyeliner : x gn reader

“does that not hurt?” kuroo’s voice perked up in curiosity as he glanced over the screen of your phone. a tutorial was currently playing, one of the quick ones on instagram you were mindlessly scrolling through to be more specific.

“no? well, i don’t think so anyway.” you reply, eyes glued to the luminous screen of your phone.

“huh” he mumbled to himself as he continued to watch the video over your shoulder.

you were about to scroll to the next video before an idea struck inside of you. eyes flickering up at your boyfriend who was certainly none the wiser, a small smile tugged at your lips before you shut your phone off and turned to face him, puzzling the bed head who’s lap you were currently sat on.

“tetsurō,” you began softly and kuroo raised an eyebrow. “i think, you would look good with eyeliner.”

‘flattery will you anywhere’ you mentally stated before smiling softly at him as he considered your previous statement.

“i look good with anything,” he teased, boyish grin gracing his face. “but,” he sighed, glancing over towards your vanity mirror. “i think maybe you could convince me to try it.”

you sighed and brushed the hair out of his face. his eyes softened as they met yours as he found comfort in your soft touch. “please?” you pleaded, praying your eyes were as soft looking as his.

“my price is a bit higher than just a few pleads.” he smirked at your attempts of begging.

“what if i kiss you?” you asked, thumb grazing over his cheekbone.

“then maybe i’ll let you get draw on my face, you’ll have to do it to find out though.”

you laughed shortly before leaning in, hot breath fanning over his face. you pressed a quick but still very much loving kiss to his lips before pulling away, hands still cupping the sides of his face as he looked at you with his adoring eyes.

“hmmm, i suppose i can do some charity work, and lend you my face as your drawing pad.”

“idiot,” you huffed, flicking his ear as he cackled. “it’s just two small details to your eyes, it’s hardly drawing all over your face.”

still happy he was obliging, you got up and grabbed an eyeliner off your vanity desk before hopping back onto the bed to straddle your awaiting victim.

“hold still” you muttered, brushing the hair out of his face with one hand, eyeliner close to his face with the other. his hands looped around your waist holding you still as you carefully lined up the liquid pen to his eyes.

within just a matter of seconds, kuroo was already snickering and fidgeting uber your touch, the small end of the eyeliner setting his nerves off.

“stop!” you whined pulling away as he visably relaxed at the lack of contact from the cosmetic product.

“you’re the one tickling me” he challenged back as his fidgeting stopped.

“not purposely! now stop it or i won’t kiss you for the rest of the day.”

“we both know that’s a lie but whatev-”

his voice cut off at the sight of your soft glare and small frown.

“okay, okay.” he shrugged in defence, before realaxing back under your touch as you smiled and leaned in.

he winced a little when you applied the product to his face once more, but after a few moments he grew accustomed to the weird feeling and did his best to be the perfect canvas for you.

the eye that wasn’t currently being worked on peeped open for a brief moment and he was so glad it did. the sight of your concentrated face and tongue poking out ever so slightly made his heart flutter. you were just too cute.

he smiled and opened his eyes as you pulled away to study the job on his first eye. a warm feeling spread through him as you hummed in satisfaction before telling his to shut his eyes again so you could work on his other eye.

going through the same process once more, you carefully drew the small but effective details on his eye, making sure to match it as evenly to the other as you could.

pulling away once more, you smiled priding yourself with your good job.

“open you eyes.” you instructed as kuroo obliged.

you sighed as you closed the liner securely and dropped it on your comforter as you messed about with his hair to try and keep the bang away from his eye.

“am i prettier than you?” he joked as you stared at his face, studying your attempt.

“actually,” you breathed out, pulling him off the bed and towards the vanity. “i think you just might be.”

leading kuroo over to the mirror, you stood back so he could analyse himself and his new look. you bit the inside of your cheek as you awaited his final verdict, eyes focused waiting for his reaction.

“i think i like this.” he muttered to himself, moving the obnoxious hair out of his face so he could study both eyes.

he turned to face you before pulling you back over to the bed where his phone was still laying. picking it up, he opened the camera and took candid photos of the two of you much to your objection.

“tetsurō, take them of yourself! i don’t wanna be in it!” you hissed trying to avoid the focus of his phone. “but i need my makeup artist in the photo with me, or who else is going to take credit?” he whined holding you close to him as you struggled to break free from him.

you sighed and gave into his demands, leaning on his chest as he smiled smugly, aiming the front lens of his phone at the two of you. he smirked as you gave a soft smile for the first few shots. the others were just him pulling obnoxious faces as you could be seen sighing in the photos.

scrolling through the photos, kuroo smiled to himself as he selected the ones he wanted to send to bokuto before choosing one to set as his new lockscreen.

“why that one!” you complained as kuroo set a particular photo as his new lockscreen. he was seen smirking in the photo as you pulled a sympathetic expression except the sympathy for certainly for yourself.

“because,” he smiled, switching his phone off and back on again to admire the new wallpaper. “you’re so pretty in this one.”

you scoffed but let the butterflies in your stomach go off anyway. “you say that about every photo.”

“because it’s true. you think my grandparents raised a liar?” he teased, enjoying the reactions from you as he teased.

“no, but they somehow raised an idiot.” you shot back, settling back into his lap as your arms looped over his shoulders.

“yet, who’s the real idiot, falling for one themselves?” he smirked, hands finding home around your waist once more.

“shut up.” you mumbled, leaning in close once more. you studied his eyes once more before looking over his whole face. yeah, you really did fall for an idiot. your idiot.

leaning in, you pressed your lips onto his once more as his hands travelled up your back holding you closer to him. pulling away, you sighed softly before pressing one last kiss to his cheek.

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from kissing me again.” he proudly stated as you rolled your eyes before smiling adoringly at him.

he was an idiot, he was a pretty one at the very least and the one you indefinitely had in fact fell for.

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @dear-kozume @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @dearestmegumi @kuxredere @warakou @iss6s @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake @wompwomphq @waitforitillwritemywayout @webworld @brokeasshoee @sunasbabie @rowley-with-ackerman @mjoork @trifliz @curiouslilbeast @ineedsomefoodpls @hp-hogwartsexpress

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2021 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Humans 101.”

Sorry for not posting yesterday. I have had the WORST motivation the past few weeks, but I thought you might like to see some more of Krill. Hope you all have a great day!

Krill walked up the university hallway turning his head to look out the window at the vast expanse of space before him. It had been a very long time since he had been to University, in the Vrul sense of the word, which was less like University and more like on the job training, but he had recently accepted an assignment at the Intergalactic Institute of Biological Science. Granted, he wasn’t a real professor, not fully, but an adjunct who had signed on to do a series of lectures for the next few months while he waited for Admiral Vir’s return. 

Since Simon had become acting Captain of the ship, it seemed that there was less and less reason for him to be there. She wasn’t experienced enough to take on the real dangerous assignments that the Admiral had excelled at, and due to her rule following nature, and the assignments they were sent on, mostly diplomatic and exploratory in nature, Krill had found less and less use for himself on the ship. He didn’t expect to be gone forever, and he doubted he would be able to leave at this point.

He couldn’t return to his home planet, not now there was a standing order for his termination, which he was planning to avoid with great prejudice. Though he found it wildly Ironic that they had asked him to come teach, when many of the professors at the school were, in fact, other Vrul.

It was with this small piece of amusement that he scuttled into the lecture room: Large and circular with seats rising on all sides and a projection hub right in the middle. The room was already packed full despite him being five minutes early. He had been told his lecture series would be popular, but he hadn’t expected there to be standing room only, and even then, there were students sitting on the floor, and a few Vrul floating in the air high above other students' heads.

He moved to the center of the room to set up his projections and, from the corner of his eye watched as a few of the front row students shifted back slightly. The Tesraki, Rundi and Finnari students didn’t seem to notice, but the Vrul students certainly did, sarong at him like he was some sort of freak.

He  could hear the whispering, and he reveled in it.

It was nice to be intimidating sometimes.

Overhead the lights flashed once, and then twice, and the entire room went quiet expectantly looking down at him with their wide eyes.

He drew himself up Resting two of his hands together and another two behind his back as he began pacing his way around the projection field. Students Continued to whisper quietly, “Good morning class, My name is Dr. Krill Galaxy renowned trauma surgeon, and the galactic leading expert in xeno-medicine with an emphasis in humanity.”

There was a uiet muttering around the room.

“I have been acting medical officer aboard the UNSC Omen once Harbinger for more than two years, and I have practiced surgery in hospitals From Andromeda and Irus to the milky way and Earth.”

More shifting wide eyes and some nervous muttering.

He looked around the room shrewdly at all the new faces, “How many of you are interested in working with the intergalactic community.”

A slow raise of hands.

“Then I should probably let you know. Humanity has begun to profuse through all the major sectors of space, business, government, shipping, sales, medical. Humans are everywhere, and humans can do anything. If you wish to work in the wider intergalactic community, you will be working with humans, and many of you will work extremely closely with humans.”

Nervous expressions all around.

“I noticed many of you, the Vrul students especially have noticed the strange effect that spending time with humans can have on an individual.”

He looked around and saw some acknowledgement.

“The colloquial term for it is called the humanizing phenomenon and it will happen to you no matter how hard you try. Scientists have said that you will become more aggressive in order to interact with humans, your movements will become more predatory, you will come to focus on facial cues and the pitch of voices to determine emotion, and soon,you will even begin to utilize human body language in order to communicate better with them.” He motioned to himself, “Out of all the alien species,I have spent the most time with humans, and as you can see, I communicate primarily in a way that humans would understand, mostly with nonverbal body cues. I don’t often use my helium sack as I get in the way with keeping up with humans.” he turned to look around at the room, “Human’s no longer scare me. As pack animals, your social influence is often more important than your physical influence. Given the fact that I have built myself up in social influence within a human pack, I no longer worry myself with being round humans. In fact, I Have never been safer in my entire life.”

His antenna vibrated slightlin amusement, “In fact it is well known that I already have a termination order placed on my head by the Vrul council.”

There was a shocked gasp from certain Vrul parts of the room.

He swaggered about the room a little smugly. He didn’t usually get reactions like this from people.

“They actually took me from an assembly meeting with the GA and brought me back for termination, but one of my humans, as I certainly do consider them mine as much as they consider me theirs, came and rescued me single handedly.”

Another murmuring from around the room.

“How did he do it?”

They waited.

“He used his complex human vocal cords and clapping to simulate a beat. In that way he disabled all the guards, and climbed his way up the guiding rope to the council chamber.”

More soft muttering.

“If you make friends with a human, you are probably as safe as you are ever going to be, especially if you happen to become friends with a very audacious human=, in which case there is nothing that they will not do for you.” He spun on the spot, “Enough for introductions, I will please have you open your files to page one of the textbook, and we will go over a brief discussion of human mechanical anatomy.”

There was a shuffling around the room as Data pads were produced.

Krill brought up an anatomical projection of a human. Looking up it amused him to know that this anatomical model, the one used in almost every nonhuman textbook, was modeled on one single human, that being Adam Vir, all accept for the right leg of course, which was modeled on another human of similar height.

“Humans are are omnivorous bipeds with an endoskeletal structure supported by a vascular system. I know a lot of you have been wrongfully told that humans are primarily carnivores, though that is not true, while human can eat a variety of foods, there are humans that choose to live without eating meat, and they can be sustained on a herbivore diet if they wish. As you can see here, the front facing eyes of the human mark them off as a predator species, though this isn’t always the perfect indicator. Vrul eyes are on the front, but, as we know, Vrul also have prismatic vision that is more closely related that of insects on an earth-like planet.” he glanced around the room, “These predator classifications only exist for a class of alien known as the vascular type, which uses a pump to push fluid through the body. As you know Vrul, Burg, Gromm, and Lumins as well as a few others are not represented in this category.”

“Can anyone tell me which species ARE classified as the vascular subtype.”

There was a raised hand and he pointed, “You there.”

“I can provide a short list sir, Tesraki, Rundi, Humans, and Drev to name a few, but the Drev are a notable outlier for this rule because their war-like culture has supported the slow movement of the eyes towards the front of the face despite them being a herbivore species.”

Krill nodded, “Very good. Yes, humans are in fact a REAL predator species, however it is important to note that the greater 80% of human diets are supported by fruits and vegetables. Based on the amount and distribution of consumed foods, humans are actually closer to herbivores in their dietary choices than they are carnivores.”

There was a soft muttering around the room. Either disbelief or interest, he couldn't tell.

“Historically, humans would have evolved from tree dwelling omnivores, though their diets would also have been primarily fruit, and maybe insects as hunting only really came after they moved to land based travel on two legs. As far as earth animals are concerned, humans are not a top tier predator, and years of life in padded habitats using technology have actually dulled their hunting senses and abilities. A human COULD take a chunk out of you with their teeth, but they certainly wouldn’t WANT to. It would definitely be a last resort. Following that, humans only eat cooked meat as they can grow very sick on consuming certain raw products.”

The class shifted and whispered to each other.

“Yes, I know you have been told many strange and odd things about humans, but most of those are heavily exaggerated. However, it is true that humans are more versatile than most of us. Humans can run, walk, climb, throw, jump and swim, and while they don’t do any of those particularly well, their ability to do all of them  to some degree makes them the most versatile alien in the GA. Furthermore humans also have a multitude of senses, ones that are common to most of us balance, heat cold, pain, etcetera, but there is one sense that they have which is very uncommon in the galaxy, and that is a sense of smell.”

All around him, students were taking notes, “This is the ability for a human to detect particles in the air and, often, identify their sources. Everything sheds particles, and the human nose can pick up those particles. For instance humans generally like the smell of Iotans because Iotins shed compounds similar to foods that humans like to eat. Once upon a time it might have been used to help humans detect poison or other predators, but like I have said before, a human is a middleman in abilities. All of a human’s senses are relatively dull in comparison to some of their earth counterparts.”

He turned to his projector and flipped it to the anatomical structure of a dog, one that had been oddled off the only dog that many aliens had ever met.

Waffles the admiral’s dog.

“This creature’s sense of smell is powerful enough,they have been known to track a sent trail for miles through densely wooded forests. They can smell a change in hormone and pheromone levels on other creatures, and are even being used to detect certain diseases. The best a human can do is smell a cooking meal.”

He walked in a wide circle looking out at the students, some of them looking excited, others staring on in trepidation.

“Human eyesight is on a similar level to their smell. Humans have binocular vision which makes their depth perception quite good. A human is perfectly capable of snatching a flying object out of the air as their predatory instincts draw them to movement. This also makes humans very adept at navigating through obstacles like they might once have had to do in trees. Furthermore, it allows them to guess distance to prey during hunting.” He switched to a picture of a drev, “However humans do not have the best vision out of all aliens species. While the acuity of a human and a Drev are similar, Drev can detect Ultraviolet wavelengths where humans can only see the visible spectrum.” He looked at some of the Vrul, “Take solace in the knowledge that you can see thermal where humans cannot. They have relatively poor night vision, but better than that of you or I and far better than the Drev who traded the use of multiple cones to very frew light sensing rods.”

He looked up from his lecturing, “Are there any questions so far.”

Every had in the room shot into the air.

He paused to look at them faces lit by the glowing bluish light of the hologram behind him and sighed, he supposed this is what he was here for.

“Let’s star in the back then, shall we.”

One of the hands went down.

“Sir, is it true that humans are capable of surviving cortical tissue damage.”

Krill snorted, a sound he probably shouldnt have been able to make since he didn’t have a nose but one he had learned how to make because it expressed a very important emotion when interacting with humans. The entire class looked at him funny.

He sighed, “Yes, The first surgery I preformed on a human involved removing an eight inch steel rod from an eye socket which had gone into cortical tissue. To this day that human… well hes been doing fine, a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but I think that was a part of his personality before brain damage.”

They stared at him confused until Krill realised that dumbass probably wasn’t in their vocabulary. It probably translated to silent butt or idiot butt which didn’t have the same kind of ring to it.

Krill waved a hand, “In certain cases humans have been known to survive with only one hemisphere of their brain.”

A chorus of disbelief, “It is true, in certain cases where electrical abnormalities n the brain cause convulsions, surgeons intentionally remove half the brain to increase quality of life. There are a couple of downsides to this of course, like the inability to play musical instruments, but most humans still live a productive and fulfilling life after the procedure.”

More hands shot up again.

He turned and chose one at Random.

“Can humans smell fear”

Krill frowned, “No humans can’t smell fear. Whoever told you that was smoking something.”The class stared blankly at him until he picked another hand.

“Are you worried that the humans will ever…. Turn on you?”

Krill raised his hands into the air in exasperation, “They are SENTIENT beings not wild animals  Humans have strict social rules like you or anyone else. It would be illegal for them to hurt me , and I doubt they would let it happen at all. Humans aren’t feral. In fact my partner aboard the ship is Doctor Katie Quinn, and she is just as experienced in the field of medicine as I am. SHe can match me in almost any medical procedure and she only has two cortical hemispheres, and less than half the amount of hands.”

He frowned at the room, “I have no idea where ou all got these ideas from. Humans are thinking creatures not animals. The reason they survived on their planet is not because they are the strongest predator, but because they are the smartest, just like you or I. the only difference between us is that the Human planet is so hostile, they have been forced to keep some of their more instinctive tendencies.”

More hands raised.

“Have you seen one of these larger earth animals, sir?”

“Yes on plenty of occasions.” He flipped his diagram back to that of a dog, “This animal here is called a dog, the ancestral  evolution of the wolf, which is just a much larger version of this animal here. These animals are higher on the food chain that humans and have the ability to easily outrun, attack and rip the throat out of a human.” He paused as the class pulled back, “Which is why humans often use them in security, protection and law enforcement, because no human wants to fight one of these creatures.” He smiled a bit grimly, “Also humans just love to keep them as pets.”

There was an uproar around the room.

How could anyone want to keep something that could rip their face off as a pet.

Krill raised a hand to quiet down the room, “I know, I know, it all sounds very strange, but you must understand, humans and dogs are both descended from highly social pack groups. At one point a human took wolf cubs and began raising them and breeding them for desirable traits. As wolves are pack animals they slowly would have begun to see humans as members of their own pack family. In this humans molded a creature into being one of their greatest allies. Dogs rely on humans and humans rely on dogs for many jobs. Humans love dogs and dogs love humans. In fact, humans have bred this animal so extensively that dogs are one of the only creatures on their own planet capable of reading human facial expressions.”

He pulled up an image from his personal files, one where Adam sat on the floor, and the dog Waffles sat next to him. He made a face as her long, pink tongue ran up the side of his cheek.

The class gasped.

“She could easily use this opportunity to kill him.” krill said, “But she never would.” He turned to another image of himself standing next to the dog, a hand resting on her back.

More gasping.

Krill was somewhat amused. “Humans, as I said are social in the extreme, and this fact is going to be our best ally when meeting them. Anyone and anything can become part of a human pack. In fact, this instinct in humans is so strong that inanimate objects can easily be accepted into a human’s pack. They routinely name plants and attribute personalities to them. I once conducted an experiment where I placed fake eyes.” Googly eyes to be exact, “On a waste receptacle, and the humans named him Mr. Rubbish and began throwing away their items exclusively in that specific receptacle as ‘Offerings’ to Mr Rubbish….. That is not a joke, that actually happened.” He appraised them with a stern look, “Befriending humans is the most important thing you can do, and probably one of the easiest things as well. If you find yourself incapable of making friends with a human, its probably time to look at yourself personally because you must be horrible.” he pointed to himself, “I will openly admit that my personality isn’t exactly the easiest to be around, and yet I still managed it on accident.”

His lecture continued for some minutes, covering more anatomy, bone structures and some interesting facts about their internal organs.

However he was forced to stop as little lights began blinking overhead, and he went to dismiss the class, “Next week we will be discussing the effects of adrenaline on humans as a special treat to those who decide to return after this first lecture. And for your assignment, I want you to find one news article that perpetuates a myth about humans and write a short essay debunking it. Since this is the first week I am going lenient on assignments but by the end of the term I do expect full essays at publishable quality.”

Everyone in the class stood, and he found himself suddenly swarmed by a mass of figures.

It seemed as if he was going to be here for a while.

Little did Krill know that his lecture series was becoming so popular that the administration was going to have to upgrade his lecture hall two more times in the concurrent weeks.

Everyone wanted to know about humans.

[vannahfanfics]

A Smile Like the Sun

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Hey, everyone! :) This here is my submission for Day 7 of NaLu Week, for the prompt “Smile.” Unfortunately, with so many requests and events happening right now, I’m not able to do all the prompts, but I wanted to show just a little love for this adorable couple! Hopefully, I can go back and do the rest. Regardless, enjoy! :D

If Natsu had to choose the thing he loved most about Lucy, it would be her smile.

Natsu had never seen a smile as radiant as hers. It illuminated rooms like a beacon, filling the space to every corner with a warm, gentle light that no darkness could taint. Her smile seemed to be a sun in itself; not only was it bright and radiating, it possessed its own gravity. Natsu would find himself lured in by its magnetic pull. Lucy’s smile embodied everything about the luminous girl that Natsu adored- her kindness, her optimism, her friendliness, her beauty. Yes, Natsu Dragneel loved Lucy Heartfilia’s smile.

That’s why he immediately noticed its absence when he slipped into Lucy’s house to find her morosely lounging on her living room couch. A handful of crumpled tissues were scattered on and around the coffee table. Lucy lay on her back, sniffling despondently as she stared at a tear-stained piece of paper in her hand. Eyebrows knitted together in concern, Natsu walked into the living room and timidly asked, “Lucy? Are you okay?”

The celestial mage jolted into the sitting position and stuffed the paper behind the throw pillows. Laughing amiably, Lucy hastily wiped her tears away with her wrist and smiled at Natsu.

“Of course I am! What’s up?” Natsu hunched down, like a wary cat inspecting a new room. Her smile wasn’t right. The light was dimmed, like a lightbulb flickering in its last moments of life, and rather than a summery bright yellow, its aura was more of a sickly off-white. His green eyes bored intently into her form, taking note of the slouch in her shoulders and the unkempt crimps of her normally brushed and shampooed hair. “N-Natsu? What’s that look on your face for?” she chuckled nervously. She pressed her body into the disarrayed throw pillow where she had hidden the paper, obviously trying to shield it with her body. “I’m okay! Really! It’s just my allergies.”

Natsu’s nose wrinkled as he smelled the nervous sweat blooming on her body.

“You’re lying,” he accused. A pink flush appeared on Lucy’s cheeks, and she shook her head insistently.

“Nuh-uh! I’m perfectly fine, see?” She flashed him that smile again as if to use it at evidence, but it only affirmed Natsu’s suspicions. Lithe and cautious so as not to startle the edgy girl, he crept around the edge of the coffee table with slow, deliberate steps. Lucy fidgeted on the couch, sneaking her hand around the throw pillow. His keen ears heard the parchment wrinkle as she gripped it.

 “Lucy… What’s on that piece of paper?”

“Nothing!” she screamed and leaped from the couch to take off toward the hallway, flailing the parchment over her head. Natsu’s nostrils flared as he vaulted over the coffee table to spring in front of the girl. She squeaked and ducked under his arms as he lunged for her, veering off at a ninety-degree angle to flee into the kitchen. “Natsu! Leave me alone!” she wailed as he stormed after her. She scurried behind the kitchen table, heading for the exit to the entryway, but as Natsu came tromping around the other side of the furniture, she squealed and back-tracked. She stopped on the long side of the table while Natsu paused on the other, and they became embroiled in an intense stare-down. Each time Lucy shifted like she was going to flee, he stomped his foot threateningly and lunged in that direction, making her squeak and reconsider her decision.

“Lucy, I am not above climbing on this table!” he warned. He placed a foot on the cushioned seat to emphasize. Lucy cringed and retreated within herself, clutching the letter to her chest.

“What is it gonna take for you to give it a rest?!”

“Tell me what you were cryin’ about!”

“I wasn’t crying!” she protested and clutched the paper further into her bosom, crumpling it up. Natsu growled and stepped up onto the chair, preparing to scramble over the table’s surface. Lucy shrieked as he came shambling on all fours over the wood, but as he snatched for the paper, she shimmied away and took off back into the living room.

“Dammit, Lucy, c’mere!” Natsu roared, hopping off the table to scurry after her. He found her straddling the back of the couch, pushing up the window with one hand and swinging one leg over the windowsill. “Gotcha!” he grinned as he jumped onto the couch cushions and wound a thick arm around her waist.

“Natsu, nooooo!” she whined as he easily flung her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. As he stepped down from the couch, he plucked the paper from her hand. Lucy bleated protests and pounded her fists into his upper back and shoulders; she then fell limp like a fish and groaned when he refused to budge, and just resigned herself to her defeat. Natsu’s leaf-green eyes scanned over the neatly printed letters on the page, a frown deepening on his face with every paragraph he read.

“… You got rejected for a publishing deal?”

Lucy sniffled wretchedly, then nodded with a tiny whimper. Natsu balled up the rejection letter in his hand and tossed it across the room so he wouldn’t have to look at it, because it would only anger him. How dare they reject Lucy? She’s a great writer! He thought haughtily and stamped his foot. He began grumbling under his breath about the publishing company’s incompetence, and for a moment, he was completely oblivious to Lucy. He blinked when he felt her shudder on his shoulder and glanced down between his arm and his body to see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Lucy!”

“That isn’t the first one. Six different companies have rejected my latest manuscript,” Lucy said dolefully. She scraped at her eyes with the heels of her palms, but the tears continued to flow. They beaded on her lashes like dew on grass blades after a morning rain. “I’ve lost my touch… I’m going to be a one-hit-wonder,” she sobbed. Natsu pursed his lips and walked back over to the couch. He fixed the cushion before plopping down, then resituated Lucy so that she was seated on his lap. She straddled him as she miserably wiped at her face, openly weeping and crying out in shame. “What do I do, Natsu?”

“Listen to me,” he grunted and grabbed both her wrists. Lucy offered no resistance as he pulled them down to rest on her thighs. Leaving them there, he cupped her face and swept his thumbs over her cheekbones to catch the tears still rolling over them. “You are not going to be a one-hit-wonder. Your stories are amazing! So what if those jerks are too blind to see it?” he huffed insistently. “Lucy, you’re going to be a famous author someday with tons and tons of published works under your belt. I know that because my Lucy never gives up.”

Finally, there it was. Lucy’s shaky lips wobbled into a tiny smile, like the first glimpse of the sun after being concealed by roiling gray storm clouds. She giggled, scrunching up her eyes like she always did, and leaned forward a little to lay her hands on his chest.

“You really think so?”

“I know so!” he frowned haughtily. Lucy chuckled again and leaned back, a blush alighting her cheeks. Natsu smiled warmly as that smile he adored so much finally broke out on her face, all teeth and glee. Her warm brown irises barely peeked out of her blonde lashes as she smiled with every ounce of energy in her body. The gloom in the house immediately evaporated, and sunlight streamed in from the open window behind them to bathe the living room in golden light. The natural sun’s glow couldn’t compete with Lucy’s smile, though- it was too warm, too bright, too gorgeous. He reached up to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and she opened her eyes to regard him curiously.

“There it is. I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“Your smile, Lucy. It lights up the whole world. I’m sad without it.” Lucy blinked, then smiled affectionately. She melted over him, pressing her torso against his and winding her arms around his neck. Natsu was not prepared for such an overtly romantic gesture, and so he reflexively grabbed her hips. She seemed not to mind, for she began twisting the ends of his salmon-colored locks around her index fingers.

“That’s interesting. You wanna know a secret?” Blinking, he nodded. Lucy leaned forward some more, brushing the tip of her nose against his. “Your smile lights up my whole world.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, cocking her head to the side as her fingers traveled further up his scalp. “I remember it so fondly- when you grabbed my hand, said we were going to Fairy Tail, and gave me the biggest, most beautiful smile.” Natsu, not used to so much overt praise, flushed as pink as his hair. Her chocolate-brown eyes smoldered with an intense heat that rivaled the temperature of his fierce flames, and they fixated intently on his face. Unable to hold Lucy’s searing gaze, Natsu’s green eyes dropped down to her lips. Suddenly, he was gripped by the overwhelming urge to kiss her. The little smile playing over her plump pink lips was simply so inviting; that gravity, stronger than the largest planet in the universe, effortlessly drew him in. He barely realized what he was doing before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers.

She hummed serenely and relaxed against him. Natsu appreciated how every contour of her plush, pliant body molded so perfectly against his rugged contours. One of his hands swept a swathe of her golden hair away to tuck it behind her ear, while the other migrated to her waist, hugging the divot of her body. She tasted like strawberries with a faint hint of zesty lemons. He kissed her lips once, twice, three times, before pulling back a hair and looking into her eyes.

“What was that for?” she asked teasingly. Natsu flushed pink and looked down meekly.

“I dunno. I just felt like it ‘cuz you’re so gorgeous,” he admitted. Lucy snickered and reclined against him, laying her head on his shoulder and continuing to play with his tufts of soft pink hair. Natsu purred in contentment and nestled back into the couch, wrapped his arms around her lower back. She was so cozy and warm that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

“Natsu?”

“Hnn?”

“Thank you. I feel much better.” He glanced down at her to find her smiling again, smiling truly like she ought to. He gave her a lopsided smirk and kissed her forehead.

“O’course.”

They drifted off together on the couch, like a couple of lazy house cats snoozing in the sun. However, Natsu’s sun wasn’t hanging in the blue sky outside; no, it lay in his arms. He held her tight to his chest, his Lucy, his bright golden sun and center of his universe.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

 Tag List: @nalu-week​ @deliathedork​ @searchfortheonepiece​

[juniperallura]

Woman King: Chapter Fifteen (Final Chapter)

ao3 / header art / playlist

“This is why you need your own chambermaid.” 

Keith pursed his lips as Lance’s face popped up from his chest. “I’ll get right on that, Your Highness. Perhaps I could borrow Miri, when you haven’t the need for her?”

A smile curled over Lance’s lips as he reached out to finger the tassels that hung from Keith’s shoulders. “Awful sarcastic tonight, aren’t we? All because the prince had to fix your buttons?”

“You know I am unused to this sort of thing.” Keith scowled, fussing with the hem of his formal jacket. “This attire, this ball…” His eyes dropped from Lance’s, surveying the prince’s quarters rather than meeting his bright gaze. 

“Keith, love,” Lance’s hand tapped against his chest, “This is nothing to be anxious about. You’ve seen battle— this is dancing, drinking, feasting. We can finally let everything…melt away, yes?”

Keith glanced up. Lance’s eyes were soft, his smile hopeful. Keith frowned. “Well,” he sighed, folding his hand over Lance’s, “Not everything.”

Lance’s face fell. “Keith-”

“-I know.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand, trying to swallow the lump that threatened to rise in his throat. “But, especially after everything that happened with your engagement…having to spend all night watching you dance with girls in the court— it is not a great prospect.”

Lance reached out to cup the side of Keith’s face. “I know,” he murmured, “Believe me, I wish things were different. What I would give to tell those girls to go harass Shiro instead, because all of my dances are claimed-” Keith chuckled, leaning into the warmth of Lance’s hand. “-But we will be together for the rest of the night. That is better than nothing at all, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Keith said, studying the crystalline eyes that glinted at him. He leaned forward to press a slow kiss to Lance’s lips. Nowadays every kiss, every touch, felt like reaffirmation. Lance was his, and he was Lance’s. Keith whispered, “Will you dance with me now, then?”

Lance kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “Of course.”

Keith slid his hand down to Lance’s waist as the prince entwined their fingers and laid his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith rested his chin on the crown of Lance’s head and started humming, an old Gaian love song he remembered his father singing to his mother. It was barely a dance, the two of them swaying gently in a small circle, but it was enough. Just to hold Lance in his arms was enough for Keith.

“Lord Prince, Master Keith! You’ve been summoned!” 

Miri’s voice came muffled through the door, ending their moment when it had only just begun. They pulled away with a sigh, Lance pressing his lips softly to Keith’s forehead.

“Alright then,” Keith said with a bracing smile, giving Lance’s hand one last squeeze, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Attention!”

Silence fell over the crowd, all heads turning toward the grand staircase at the head of the room.

“Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Allura!”

Several gasps came from the bodies that pressed close to Shiro in the crowd, but he was silent. His mouth had gone dry, his jaw slack. All his bodily energy seemed to have gone into trying not to drop his glass.

She appeared in the candlelight like some idyllic vision, floating down to the ballroom with an elegance unparalleled. Her hair was pinned in curls like sculpted moonlight, exposing the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her dark skin was glowing softly and as she reached the bottom step the crowd parted to make a wide clearing, as if sensing they were not worthy to encroach on her ethereal sphere. 

Allura glided first over to Coran, who clasped her outstretched hand with a deep bow. She leaned in and pecked a kiss against the older man’s cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him smile fondly. He replied, too low to hear, and patted her hand. 

Next she moved to Lance, standing further down along the perimeter of the dance floor. He met her likewise with a bow, pressing his lips to her knuckles when she offered her hand. The prince opened his mouth as if to speak but Allura pulled him into a tight, albeit brief, hug. Smiles and whispers traveled through the ring of subjects, all perhaps wondering where the famously icy exterior of their Queen had gone.

Allura left Lance and began slowly floating down the line, meeting the greetings of the court with nods and smiles. With every rustle of her trailing skirts and flicker of her gaze a wave of fidgeting seemed to wash over the crowd, among the young men in particular. With the familial greetings completed, the ball’s attention turned to the question which had preoccupied Castle gossip since the announcement of the victory ball— whom would Queen Allura choose for her first dance partner? As she made her way further along the ring, intermingling expressions of disappointment and relief broke out among the rejected eligible. 

Shiro watched the proceedings with amusement, trying to ignore the jealousy that crept into his heart at the sight of the knights adjusting their posture, their hair, their cloaks, in the hopes of catching the eye of the beautiful Queen. He reminded himself that it was only one dance he would have to watch, nothing more than a formality. She would choose the son of some Lord, perhaps one who had given the most resources to the war effort. It was only political.

But then, she paused before him.

For a moment Shiro forgot even to bow, so lost was he in her luminous curls and glowing skin and infinite eyes. She held out a gloved hand with an almost coy smile. Keith, standing beside him, elbowed his side. Shiro clamped his hanging jaw shut and bent low at the waist, delicately bringing her fingers to his lips. “Your Highness,” he murmured. 

“Shirogane-” Allura spoke in a loud, clear voice for all to hear, meeting his gaze without trepidation. “-Warrior of Gaia, Valued Adviser, Bearer of the Blessing of Altea. Might you join me in beginning this night of victorious celebration?”

A tide of whispers rose from the crowd, but Allura only tilted her head at him, expression unchanged. Shiro pressed his lips together to hide a smile. He gave her another sweeping bow. “It would be my great honor, Your Majesty.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the center of the grand ballroom. From the far end of the room strings began to swell and she met his bow with a curtsy. The dance began, a traditional Altean waltz that had been popular during Shiro’s time as a Gaian officer. Their hands met and kept them anchored to one another as they slid apart, stepping in a circle at arm’s length. Even so close she was like a dream, glowing softly under the light of the chandelier. The crown that rested atop her head picked up the colors of her hair and eyes, its jewels glittering like a halo. Powder blue silk sloped off her shoulders, trailing sleeves draping against the folds of her skirt that erupted from her waist. Small flowers, embroidered in pink and orange, crawled up the hem of her dress and wrapped around her bodice, transforming her into some goddess of spring as she moved. Shiro was as stricken by her beauty then as he had been the first moment they met, when she had sat armored on her throne and stared down at him wrathfully.

“Yes, Shiro?” Allura hummed, catching his eye with a smile.

He blinked, her voice pulling him from his reverie. “I was only thinking that you look especially beautiful tonight, Queen Allura,” he said in a low voice.

A satisfied flush colored her cheeks. At a cue from the music they stepped close to each other, Shiro reaching for her waist as she rested one hand atop his shoulder and the other against his residual limb. “Well, you certainly look dashing yourself,” she murmured, “I like you in your military jacket, you know. You look sharp in black.”

A crooked grin pulled over Shiro’s face. “The music may disguise our conversation, but if you continue like that the redness of my face will surely expose us.” 

Allura smiled softly as her gaze swept over the room that swirled around them. “Actually, that has been on my mind of late, Shiro,” she said, looking back at him and squeezing his arm. Her eyes became serious, searching his. “All those weeks when I was laid up in the hospital…well, there were times I wasn’t sure if I were alive of dead. But in those moments between my feverish dreams, when I had a glimpse of lucidity, my only thoughts were of you. When I awoke, and you were holding my hand- I never wanted to let go.”

“Allura,” Shiro murmured, resisting the urge to caress her cheek.

“Shiro, having you and Lance in my life is perhaps the only good thing to come out of this war-” Allura smiled, dazzling and full of hope- “And I do not intend to have either taken away from me. I have a surprise for you, later, that I believe will make things a little easier for us, and I think- well, perhaps the time for discretion is over. I am tired of hiding and sneaking. The war is over. Doesn’t it feel like a new chapter is beginning?”

The waltz drew to a close, strings settling into a joyous final chord. They had stopped moving, but Shiro was sure the room was still spinning. He met her shining eyes with a wide smile. “Yes,” he said,  “It does.”

He stepped back, giving his partner a deep bow. The crowd clapped politely. Then, as Shiro straightened to lead Allura off the dance floor, he felt a hand gently catch the side of his face. He only had a second to register that her other hand had folded itself into his, and that her sweet perfume was wafting toward him from only an inch away, and that her lips were curled into delighted smile.

“I love you, Shiro,” she whispered.

She kissed him.

It was soft and chaste, like a phantom against his lips, but still, she kissed him before the whole room.

The applause ceased.

“I love you, too.” It came out like a breath, but he felt as if it were echoing through the silence, carrying up to the vaults of the ceiling. His chest erupted with a lightness he had never felt before, like he was suddenly floating an inch from the ground.

A whoop from somewhere in the crowd- certainly Lance’s doing- broke the silence, and another smattering of applause broke out. Allura, utterly unfazed, gave the room a sweeping gesture and called, “My victorious subjects- let the celebration begin!” 

The music struck up again and the scandalized murmurs soon became lost in the hubbub of young courtiers scrambling to secure their first dance. Allura turned to him, her face still flushed with excitement. “I apologize if I took you by surprise, Shiro,” she said as she threaded an arm through his, “But I confess I feel as if an anvil has been lifted off my chest.”

“I could not have said it better,” he said in her ear. “And as always, your courage is the stuff of legends.” 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of twinkling candlelight, swirling dances, and bubbling drinks. Allura twirled across the dance floor, attending first to Lance and Coran and (a little to Shiro’s surprise) Keith, before giving the eager lords and knights their turn; she returned to snatch Shiro up as often as she could, although not as often as he would have liked. In the meantime, Shiro approached Lady Holt with a sweeping bow and led her to the floor while Matt and Katie- sweetly unembarrassed to be dancing with her brother- waltzed beside them.

Some time later Shiro found himself falling into a seat at the edge of the room next to Keith and Lance. Matt had shooed him away, having discovered that standing beside the man Queen Allura had publicly claimed as her own was efficient dance partner repellent. 

“Having a good evening?” Keith smirked, taking a sip of champagne. 

“And an eventful one, certainly,” Shiro chuckled. His smile dropped a bit when his eyes came to rest on the two younger men, whose only physical contact were the closeness of their knees. He lowered his voice, “I am sorry, really, that the two of you could not have such a moment tonight-”

“-Please, Shiro, do not apologize,” Lance cut in, raising his hand. “After all you’ve been through, you and Allura deserve your own night. And- we have our own moments.” He looked at Keith with a smile so full of fondness that it brought a surge of warmth to Shiro’s chest, and his own eyes flickered to where Allura was sailing across the dance floor.

“And besides,” Keith said, “With everything Queen Allura’s planning, change may well be on the horizo-” 

Suddenly Lance shifted, and Shiro didn’t miss his elbow digging into Keith’s side. Keith went wide-eyed, bursting into a coughing fit and taking a long draw from his glass when he met Shiro’s raised brow. Both seemed oddly relieved when Coran approached and interrupted Keith’s attempt to speak again.

“Lord Prince, Young Masters,” Coran gave them a short bow, “Am I interrupting?”

“Absolutely not, my good sir,” Lance flashed a wide smile, gesturing for him to join them, “Are you enjoying the festivities? You most among us have earned a little celebrating.”

“Immensely, Prince Lance. I have not seen Altea this joyous in many years.” Coran bowed again, his mustache bristling with satisfaction. “But, if you’ll pardon the intrusion, I have business with Shiro— would you join me somewhere a little quieter, perhaps?”

Shiro drained his glass, throwing one last look at Keith and Lance, who seemed to be deflating in their seats, as he followed Coran into the hall. “Is something the matter?” he asked once they were away from the din of the party, “Has there been another development, with the Galra?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort-” Coran shook his head, a gloved hand reaching up to smooth his facial hair. His sharp eyes seemed to be scanning Shiro’s face rather seriously, but before Shiro could speak he started pacing a short length of the hallway and said, “Shiro, I have had the pleasure of serving the Kingdom of Altea for many, many years. First under King Alfor, and now under Queen Allura. I like to think I know her well. I was there when she was born, and her mother passed away- I had a bit of a hand in raising her, actually. I was there when her father passed, and I was there when she was coronated.”

Shiro swallowed. Memories of a talk which had begun very similarly came back to him, from when he was a only boy, caught flirting with the baker’s daughter when his mother sent him for their daily loaves. But that was long ago, and Coran was no village baker.

Coran, seemingly unaware of Shiro’s discomfort, continued, “She is the very heart and soul of our people. The joy that is so palpable tonight has her at its core.” He stopped abruptly, turning to look at Shiro. “But I did not realize until tonight, with her, ah, display, how closely you are tied to that joy. The way she looks at you- I have not seen such spark in her eyes for a long time. And as I told you before, Shiro, if the Queen trusts you, that is good enough for me.”

Shiro frowned, his gaze locked with Coran’s as he tried to discern exactly the meaning of the older man’s words. “Thank you, sir,” he said, slowly, “But I-”

Again, he was cut off with a hand. “As I said, I have become rather close to the royal family in my years, and as such I became custodian of a certain heirloom upon the King’s passing…” Coran reached into his jacket lining and Shiro’s heart skipped a beat.

Held delicately between Coran’s gloved fingers, glinting in the candlelight, was a ring. The delicate gold band was carved with floral motifs, all twisting toward a cluster of diamonds that shone brightly in the center.

“It was her mother’s.” Coran gazed at the ring with a wistful smile. “I was to hold onto it- in case she ever wished to marry.”

Shiro felt as if the bubbles from all the night’s champagne had gone to his head. With a pounding heart he reached out, hesitantly taking the bejeweled ring in his calloused, scarred hand. “Coran— I, I cannot thank you properly-” The words came out haltingly, caught in the growing rawness of his throat.

Coran only smiled, holding out his hand. Shiro tucked the ring safely away and then grasped it warmly— and to his surprise, Coran pulled him into a tight hug and clapped him on the back. “No thanks are needed, my boy.”

Some days later, Shiro was nursing a headache after a rough night’s sleep when a sharp rapping sounded at his bedchamber door. In the hall he found a young page, who bowed sharply to him and announced, “Master Shirogane, your presence is urgently requested by Her Majesty the Queen!” The page’s eyes flickered over him with an uncertain expression before he bowed again and called in a high voice, “You are also requested to be received by Her Majesty in formal garb, Master Shirogane!”

Shiro blinked, the pain in his head receding at the sudden declaration. “Urgently?” He grip tightened on the door handle, “Is something the matter? Is the Queen alright?”

The boy bit his inner lip, fidgeting with the edge of his tunic. “The Queen is alright, Master Shirogane, but beyond that I am not at liberty to say-”

“What do you mean, boy? What is going on?” Shiro’s brows knit, irritation beginning to replace his anxiety.

“Her Majesty forbade me from telling any more than I have, Master Shi-”

“-Very well, very well,” Shiro waved away the boy’s words, “Queen Allura has her way, doesn’t she? Wait here, I’ll only be a moment...”

A short while later found Shiro approaching the doors of the great hall, where he had first been led so long ago (for it couldn’t possibly be less than a year, with so much having changed since then.) Two guards stood between the doors and a group of young soldiers. Shiro vaguely recognized a few of them from his training, and as he came closer a familiar face elbowed to the front.

“Keith-” Shiro clasped his friend’s hand- “What is the meaning of all this? Were you dragged from your chambers as well?”

“Not quite,” Keith said, a smile on his face that Shiro didn’t understand. The swordsman threw a glance toward the doors of the hall. “All will be clear in a moment, now that you’ve arrived-”

As if on cue, the towering oak doors swung open, sending a gust through the hall. All murmuring ceased and the soldiers arranged themselves in pairs, with Keith and Shiro at the front. Suddenly a trumpet sounded and Coran appeared before the double lines, gesturing for them to follow as he turned solemnly on his heel and marched into the hall. Members of the court lined a central aisle and banners bearing the royal emblem lined the walls. At the head of the room, standing before her throne with a gleaming sword in hand, was Allura.

Shiro blinked, following Keith’s lead with uncertain steps. He caught the eyes of the Queen and the Prince, who stood behind her, but neither offered any explanation in their expressions. Finally, Coran approached the throne with a sweeping bow and called, “Queen Allura, I present the candidates for knighthood, distinguished by their valor in the Galran War.”

Allura was smiling at him. She spoke, something about honor and courage, but Shiro hadn’t been able to hear past word knighthood. Memories flashed before his eyes and started his blood pounding. He saw his badge, marking him as a Gaian officer, ripped from his chest and crushed under the foot of a Galra soldier. He saw his sword clattering to the ground as he cursed his left hand, useless and trembling from strain. He had found himself kneeling, battered and scarred, on a cold floor many times before, but now- now was so much different. 

His heart soared as he felt the cold metal of the blade press against each of his shoulders in succession. A familiar voice said, “Rise, Knight of Altea.”

Shiro drew himself up, hardly able to keep the smile from his lips as he met Allura’s eyes, sparkling and proud.

He could see Lance beaming in the background as she did the same to Keith. One by one the soldiers that knelt on either side of him stood, each barely able to contain their happiness. The trumpets sounded again and Shiro turned to Keith, waiting for the crowd’s applause to signal the end of the ceremony; but his friendly only nodded toward Allura with a knowing smile.

She wasn’t looking at him, but a broad smile came over her face as she held up her hands to end the murmuring. “It is now my great pleasure to bestow additional honors on two deserving individuals, whose acts of bravery and loyalty to crown and country touched the hearts of all who bore witness—” She paused, fixing her gaze on Shiro with a fond smile as she approached with slow steps. When she came to a halt before him and Keith, a pageboy scurried to her side with velvet pillow displaying two Altean crests. “Sir Keith and Sir Takashi- I, Queen Allura, hereby offer the title of Lord to he who wishes to accept it. Take this as a display of my gratitude and good will, on behalf of the Kingdom of Altea.”

He and Keith answered in unison: “I accept.” 

Shiro could not tear his eyes from Allura’s, shining like fire and ice, as she pinned the crest to his chest. Her hand lingered over his heart for a moment, before she turned to confer the same honor upon Keith. 

He still felt blood rushing to his head when the ceremony was concluded and the crowd descended on them in their rush to the reception feast, but he managed to grab Allura’s hand in the crush of the hall and pull her out onto a balcony.

Shiro shut the door behind them with a slow sigh, happy to find a moment of peace after the unexpected excitement of the morning. The sun was at high noon, soaking Allura in its light and illuminating the young, early-summer greens that lay in the valley below the Castle. 

Allura leaned with her back against the balustrade, surveying him with a smile. “So, did you enjoy my surprise, Lord Shirogane?”

Shiro could not answer, only crossing the balcony with a quick stride to cradle Allura’s face in his hand and draw her full lips to his. He felt her smile against his kiss as her hands settled around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. In that moment he didn’t care about all the titles and honors in the world; his only thought was of savoring her sweet perfume, her warmth, the touch of her skin against his, for another moment. “I love you, Allura,” he breathed against her lips.

Her hands slid down to caress the sides of his face. “And I love you, Shiro,” she mumbled, still brushing slow kisses against his mouth, “I meant what I said, that I would not let you be taken from me.” 

He leaned in again, kissing her until they were both breathless and then wrapping his arm suddenly around her waist. He held her tight and spun her in a wild circle, free laughter bubbling up from his chest; she clung to him, squealing giddily like a school girl. “Lord Shirogane,” he said, setting Allura down with a grin, “I could have never imagined it, only a month ago— but I believe I could get used to the sound.”

“Good, it suits you.” Allura mirrored his bright smile, her eyes dancing as she caught her breath. “-And I hope this might give Lance and Keith a fighting chance.”

Shiro nodded, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Now, shall we return to the festivities, Your Majesty?” He offered his elbow with a raised brow.

“If you insist-” She took his arm with a sly curl to her lip- “My Lordship.”

Hand in hand they returned, unable to keep the smiles from their faces as they dove back into the crowd; and so ended one chapter of their lives, and began another. 

Epilogue:

The morning was almost unseasonably cool, one of those which seems to foretell the coming of fall, until the sun reaches its peak and warms the land again. But the sun had yet to graze the treetops, and it shed only pale pastel light on the two figures which circled each other in the center of the training pitch.

Shiro and Allura watched each other with faint smiles. The stillness of the morning, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, was refreshing. Lately their training had become like spectacles for the members of the court, but alone at dawn they could conjure up old memories of clandestine sparring matches, fought in the bitter cold and near darkness. 

Allura beckoned Shiro forward with a wave of the hand. They had decided to forego weapons that day, opting for skin on skin. “I haven’t got all day, Shiro,” she goaded, “Lance and Keith depart at noon, you’ll have to make your move before then.”

“The Queen of Altea, afraid to strike first? Must be losing your edge.” Shiro tried to keep match her reserve; but, as always, he couldn’t resist the jaunty smile that accompanied her taunts and lunged. 

She anticipated him, of course, and lithely dodged his swing. With neither swords nor staffs their fighting felt tighter, faster, their bodies weaving together and pulling apart with every hit and feint. Every time one thought they were gaining ground, landing a few kicks or punches, they would lose it the next minute. Allura was all flashes of dark skin and silver hair; Shiro glints of feverishly focused eyes. 

The sky had become colored gold with the sunlight that stretched beyond the treetops by the time their mingling cries ceased. Shiro hit the ground at the edge of the ring with a heavy grunt. Allura, triumphant, sat on his stomach with her forearm pressed to his throat. “Victory,” she declared through gasping breaths.

Shiro gazed up at her with a dazed smile. Her eyes were blue as the summer sky and piercing as the day he met her. Threads of her hair fell loose from her braid to stick to her tanned forehead, glistening with sweat. Her arm pressed mercilessly against his throat but somehow the words slipped out as though he were in a trance: “Will you marry me?”

Allura blinked. Her smile dropped as she pulled her arm away from him. “Shiro- are you-”

Shiro sat up and wrapped his arm around her waist, suddenly snapping out of his reverie. He looked into her eyes with a growing smile. “That was sudden, I know. But- I couldn’t help myself. I remembered our first match, when I thought you would have my head, and- and now here you are with your arm on my neck like a madwoman—” He let out a clear laugh as her expression only grew more confused. “And it just made me think of how much everything has changed. You came into my life and everything changed.” He shook his head in wonder, his hand reaching up to smooth back her hair. “Before I met you, I thought fate was cruel- like it only existed to bring me more pain, more misery. But then I realize that all of it, everything that ever happened to me, led me here, to you.”

“Shiro-” Allura whispered, her eyes glinting with moisture.

“Neither of our lives have been easy, but it comforts me to know that we can understand even a piece of each other,” he said, his voice softening. He reached into his tunic and drew out a ribbon that tied around his neck- at the end dangled a gold ring with a cluster of glinting diamonds. He quickly broke the ribbon with his teeth. “Coran gave this to me, on the day of the Victory Ball. Your mother’s.” Allura nodded, her lip caught between her teeth and hands fluttering unsure over Shiro’s chest. “Allura, I know this is not a simple thing to ask, nor an easy one to decide. But I promise that I will fight for you and with you until my last breath, and will help shoulder your burdens as best I can.” He sucked in a breath. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Shiro!” She hardly let him slip the ring onto her finger before she flung her weight onto him, pressing passionate kisses to his lips. Both tasted salt in their kiss, but instead of ragged breaths came breathless laughter. “It was always easy with you, Shiro, always,” she whispered, pulling back so she could search his eyes. 

The joy that burst in his chest left him speechless. He pulled Allura closer, peppering kisses down her neck and along her jaw. She ran a hand through his hair, smiling as she leaned to press her lips to the crown of his head. Eventually she tilted his chin up with a gentle hand, giving him one last tender kiss and savoring the feeling of metal against her finger as she cupped his cheek. 

“I hate to say it, but we should get ready to see the boys off,” she sighed. 

Shiro chased her lips for another touch. “Would they really begrudge a small delay?”

Allura rose to her feet, offering a hand with a smirk. “I fear Lance will already resent us ruining his grand farewell with our engagement- I’m not sure he would forgive tardiness as well.”

“He already had his day- we threw a feast for his appointment as governor of the new territories, and yet another for Keith’s adjoining military promotion. Or does he forget?”

“Now, now,” Allura slipped her hand into his, pecking him on the cheek, “It is my duty to speak that way of my cousin, not yours.”

Shiro squeezed her hand, chuckling good-naturedly. “Of course, Queen Allura.”

“Ah! The thought just occurred to me-” She turned to him with a bright smile- “You will have another change in title to grow accustomed to, King Shiro.”

[smolcriminal]

ÓMNIBUS

source: Ómnibus de Julio Cortázar

"If it suits you, bring me El Hogar  when you return," Mrs. Roberta said, leaning back in her chair for a siesta. Clara ordered the medicine on the small table, and looked around the room with a precise look. Nothing was missing, the girl Matilde would stay looking after Mrs. Roberta, the maid was aware of what was necessary. Now she could go out, with all the Saturday afternoon to herself, her friend Ana waiting for her to chat, sweet tea at five-thirty, radio and chocolates.       At two o'clock, when the wave of the employees finishes breaking in the thresholds of so much houses, Villa del Parque becomes deserted and luminous. Clara came down clattering distinctly for Tinogasta and Zamudio, savoring a November sun broken by islands of shadow that threw the Agronomy trees in their wake. At the corner of Avenida San Martin and Nogoyá, while waiting for bus 168, she heard a battle of sparrows over her head, and the Florentine tower of St. John Mary Vianney seemed redder against the cloudless sky, high up to dizziness. Don Luis, the watchmaker, passed by and greeted her appreciatively, as if praising her neat figure, the shoes that made her leaner, her white coat on the cream blouse. On the empty street, he came in a rush of 168, letting out his dry snort unsatisfied as the door opened for Clara, a single passenger on the quiet corner of the afternoon.        Looking for the coins on her bag full of things, she was slow to pay the ticket. The guard waited with the face of a few friends, retacón and compadre on his bent legs, training to withstand the turns and the brakes. Twice, Clara said, "Fifteen," and the guy did not take his eyes off her, as if she was missing something. Then she gave him the pink ticket, and Clara remembered a childhood verse, something like: "Mark, mark, ticket-box, a blue or pink ticket, sing, sing something, while you count the money." Smiling with the memory, she looked for a seat towards the bottom, found empty the one corresponding to Emergency Gate, and settled with the often pleasure of owner who always gives the side of the window. Then she saw the guard watching her. And at the corner of the San Martín Avenue bridge, before turning, the driver turned and looked at her, working through the distance but looking until he could see her deep in his seat. He was a bony blond with a face of hunger, who changed a few words with the guard, the two looked at Clara, looked at each other, the bus jumped and rushed through Chorroarin.       "Foolish pair," Clara thought, flattered and nervous. Busy in keeping her ticket in the purse, she glanced at the lady of the large bouquet of carnations traveling in the front seat. Then the lady looked at her, over the bouquet she turned and looked at her sweetly like a cow on a siege, and Clara drew a mirror and was immediately absorbed in the study of her lips and eyebrows. There was already an unpleasant impression on his neck; The suspicion of another impertinence made her turn around quickly, really angry. Two inches from his face were the eyes of an old man with a hard neck, with a bouquet of daisies composing an almost nauseating smell. At the back of the bus, settling in the long green seat, all the passengers looked at Clara, they seemed to criticize something in Clara that held their eyes with increasing effort, feeling that it was becoming more difficult, not by the coincidence of the eyes In it neither by the branches that carried the passengers; Rather because he had expected a friendly ending, a laughing reason like having a nosebleed (but he did not have it); And upon their beginning of laughter they lay frozen, those attentive and continuous glances, as if the branches were watching her.        Suddenly uneasy, she let her body slip a little, fixed her eyes on the battered front back, examining the emergency door lever and its inscription To open the door HANDLE HANDLE in and stand up, considering the letters one by one not reaching To bring them together in words. He thus obtained a zone of security, a truce where to think. It is natural for the passengers to look at the newly rising, it is okay for people to carry branches if they go to Chacarita, and it is almost okay for everyone in the bus to have branches. They passed before the hospital Alvear, and on the side of Clara lay the wastelands at whose distant end rises the Star, area of ​​dirty puddles, yellow horses with pieces of ropes hanging from the neck. It was hard for Clara to get away from a landscape that the sun's hard glow was not enough to brighten, and hardly dared to glance quickly into the car again. Red roses and coves, further horrible gladioli, as bruised and dirty, old pink with livid spots. The man in the third window (he was looking at her, not now, now again) had almost black carnations pressed into a single mass almost continuous, like a rough skin. The two cruel-nosed girls sitting in one of the side seats held the bouquet of the poor, chrysanthemums and dahlias between them, but they were not poor, they were dressed in well-cut sachets, plaited skirts, white socks three quarters , And looked at Clara with haughtiness. He wanted to make them look down, insolent brats, but they were four fixed pupils and also the guard, the lord of the carnations, the heat at the back of the neck for all those people behind, the old man with the hard neck so close, , La Paternal: tickets from Cuenca are over.

No one was coming down. The man ascended swiftly, facing the guard who was waiting for him in the middle of the car, looking at his hands. The man had twenty cents on his right and with the other he smoothed the sack. He waited, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Fifteen," Clara heard. Like her: fifteen. But the guard did not cut the ticket, he kept looking at the man who finally noticed and made a gesture of cordial impatience: "I told him fifteen." He took the ticket and waited for the return. Before he had received it, he had slipped lightly into an empty seat next to the Lord of the Carnations. The guard gave him the five cents, looked at him a little from above, as if examining his head; He did not even notice, absorbed in the contemplation of the black carnations. The man was watching him, once or twice he looked at him quickly and he looked back; The two of them moved their heads almost at once, but without provocation, just looking at each other. Clara was still furious with the girls in front, who looked at her for a long time and then at the new passenger; There was a moment, when the 168 began its career, close to the wall of Chacarita, in which all the passengers were looking at the man and Clara, only they no longer looked at it directly because they were more interested in the newcomer, but it was as if the Included in their eyes, united the two in the same observation. What a stupid thing these people, because even the brats were not so girls, each with their bouquet and occupations ahead, and behaving with that rudeness. He would have liked to warn the other passenger, a dark fraternity without reasons grew in Clara. Say, "You and I get a ticket for fifteen," as if that would bring them closer. To touch his arm, to advise him: "Do not take it for granted, they are impertinent, stuck there behind the flowers like zonzos." She would have liked him to come and sit next to her, but the boy-he was actually young, though he had hard marks on his face-had dropped into the first free seat he had at his fingertips. With a gesture between amused and embarrassed he was determined to return the look of the guard, the two girls, the lady with the gladioli; And now the lord of the red carnations had turned his head back and looked at Clara, looking at her blankly, with an opaque softness and floating with pumice. Clara answered stubbornly, feeling hollow; They wanted to go down (but that street, at that height, and total for nothing, not having a bouquet); He noticed that the boy looked restless, looking from one side to the other, then back, and was surprised to see the four passengers in the back seat and the old man with the hard neck with the daisies. Her eyes flickered over Clara's face, pausing for a second in her mouth, on her chin; The eyes of the guard and the two little girls, of the lady of the gladiolus, were thrown from the front, until the boy turned to look at them as if loosening. Clara measured her harassment of minutes before by the one that now disturbed the passenger. "And the poor man with empty hands," he thought absurdly. He found something helpless, only with his eyes to stop that cold fire falling from everywhere.        Without stopping the 168 entered the two curves that give access to the esplanade in front of the peristyle of the cemetery. The little girls came down the hall and settled in the exit door; Behind the daisies, gladiolus, and coves. Behind them was a confused group and the flowers smelled of Clara, quiet in her window but so relieved to see how many were getting off, how well she would travel on the other leg. The black carnations appeared on top, the passenger had stopped to let the black carnations out, and was tilted, tucked half in an empty seat in front of Clara. He was a nice, simple, honest boy, maybe a chemist's clerk, or a bookkeeper, or a builder. The bus stopped gently, and the door snorted as it opened. The boy waited for the people to come down to choose a seat, while Clara participated in his patient waiting and urged the gladiolus and the roses to bring them down at once. Already the door open and all in a row, looking at her and looking at the passenger, not descending, looking at them among the branches that were shaken as if there was wind, a wind from below the earth that moved the roots of the plants and shaken the branches . The coves came out, the red carnations, the men behind with their branches, the two girls, the old daisy. The two of them remained alone, and the 168 seemed suddenly smaller, grayer, and prettier. Clara found it well and almost necessary for the passenger to sit next to her, although she had the whole bus to choose from. He sat down and the two of them lowered their heads and looked at each other's hands. They were there, they were just hands; nothing else.

"Cacarita!" Shouted the guard. Clara and the passenger answered their urgent glance with a simple formula: "We have fifteen tickets." They thought about it, and it was enough. The door was still open. The guard approached them. "Candace," he said, almost explicably. The passenger did not even look at him, but Clara felt sorry for him. "I'm going to Retiro," he said, and showed her the ticket. Trademark mark a blue or pink ticket. The driver was almost out of the seat, looking at them; The guard became indecisive, made a sign. He snorted the back door (no one had come up) and the 168 took speed with choleric, light and loose strokes in a race that put lead in Clara's stomach. Next to the driver, the guard now had the chrome-plated bar and looked deeply at them. They looked back at him, they were like this until the curve of entrance to Dorrego. Then Clara felt the boy lay a hand slowly in his own, as if they could not see him from the front. It was a soft, very warm hand, and she did not withdraw hers but slowly moved it to the end of her thigh, almost above her knee. A wind of speed enveloped the bus in full swing. "So many people," he said, almost without you. And suddenly they all go down. "They brought flowers to the Chacarita," Clara said. On Saturdays many people go to cemeteries. "Yes, but ..." "A little weird was, yeah. Did you notice ...? "Yes," he said, almost blocking his pace. And it happened to you the same, I realized. -Is rare. But now no one goes up. The car braked brutally, barrier of the Central Argentine. They let themselves go forward, relieved by the jump to a surprise, to a shake. The car trembled like a huge body. "I'm going to Retiro," Clara said. -I also.      The guard had not moved, now spoke in anger with the driver. They saw (unwittingly acknowledging that they were attentive to the scene) how the driver left his seat and came down the hall toward them, with the guard copying the steps. Clara noticed that the two of them were looking at the boy and that he was rigid, as if gathering strength; His legs trembled, his shoulder resting on hers. Then a locomotive howled horribly, a black smoke covered the sun. The roar of the fast covered the words the driver must have been saying; To two seats of theirs stopped, crouching like one who is going to jump. The guard restrained him by putting a hand on his shoulder, pointed imperiously at the barriers that were already rising as the last car passed with a clatter of iron. The driver pursed his lips and ran back to his post; With a leap of rage the 168 faced the tracks, the opposite slope. The boy loosened his body and let himself slide smoothly. "That never happened to me," he said, as if speaking. Clara wanted to cry. And crying waited there, available but useless. Without even thinking, he was aware that everything was fine, that he was traveling in an empty space apart from another passenger, and that any protest against that order could be resolved by pulling the bell and descending at the first corner. But all was well; The only thing left was the idea of ​​getting off, to remove that hand that had again tightened hers. "I'm afraid," he said simply. If only I had put some violets on the blouse. He looked at her, looked at her smooth blouse. "I sometimes like to carry a country jasmine on my lapel," he said. Today I was in a hurry and did not notice. -What a pity. But in reality we go to Retiro. "Sure, let's go to Retiro." It was a dialogue, a dialogue. Take care of him, feed him. "Could not you lift the window a little?" I drown in here. He looked at her in surprise, because he felt rather cold. The guard watched them out of the corner of their eye, talking to the driver; The 168 had not stopped again after the barrier and were already around Canning and Santa Fe. "This seat has a fixed window," he said. You see it's the only car seat that comes this way, through the emergency door. "Ah," Clara said. "We could move on to another. -No no. He squeezed her fingers, stopping her movement from rising. "The less we move the better." "Well, but we could lift the window ahead. -No, please no. He waited, thinking that Clara was going to add something, but she got smaller in the seat. Now she was looking at him completely to escape the attraction of the future, that anger that came to them like silence or heat. The passenger put his other hand on Clara's knee, and she drew his own, and the two of them communicated darkly through the fingers, the warm caress of the palms. "Sometimes one is so sloppy," Clara said timidly. He believes he carries everything, and always forgets something. "We did not know. -Well, but the same. They looked at me, especially those girls, and I felt so bad. "They were intolerable," he protested. Did you see how they had agreed to stare at us?

"At last the bouquet was chrysanthemums and dahlias," Clara said. But they presumed the same thing. "Because the others gave them wings," he said irritably. The old man in my seat with his bundled carnations, with that bird face. The ones I did not see were the ones from behind. Do you think everyone ...? "All of them," said Clara. I saw them barely up. I went up to Nogoyá and Avenida San Martin, and almost immediately I turned around and saw that everyone ... "Good thing they got out."

Pueyrredón, braking in the dry. A dark policeman would have stood accusing himself of something in his high kiosk. The driver slipped out of the seat, the guard wanted to hold him by the sleeve, but he let go violently and came down the hall, looking at them alternately, shrunken and moist lips, blinking. "That gives way!" Shouted the guard in a rare voice. Ten horns barked at the bus's tail, and the driver ran agonizingly to his seat. The guard spoke in his ear, turning every moment to look at them. "If you were not ..." Clara murmured. I think if I were not you I would have encouraged myself to get off. "But you're going to Retiro," he said, with some surprise. "Yes, I have to pay a visit." No matter, I would have come down the same way. "I got fifteen tickets," he said. "Until Retiro." -I also. The downside is that if one goes down, then until another car comes ... "Of course, and maybe it's complete." -Maybe. It travels so bad, now. Have you seen the subtes? -Something incredible. Tires travel more than employment.      A bright green air floated in the car, they saw the old rose of the Museum, the new Faculty of Law, and the 168 accelerated even more in Leandro N. Alem, as rabid to arrive. Twice he was stopped by some traffic police, and twice the driver wanted to throw himself at them; To the second, the guard stood before him, refusing in anger, as if it hurt him. Clara felt her knees rise to her chest, and her companion's hands deserted her abruptly and covered themselves with protruding bones, rigid veins. Clara had never seen the virile step of the hand to the fist, looked at those massive objects with a humble confidence almost lost in terror. And they talked all the time about the trips, the queues to be done in Plaza de Mayo, the rudeness of the people, the patience. Then they stopped, looking at the railway wall, and his companion took out his wallet, looked at it very seriously, his fingers trembling a little.

"It's barely out," she said brightly, straightening up. We're here. -Yes. Look, when I fold in Retire, we get up fast to get down. -Good. When you are next to the square. -That's. The stop is more here than the tower of the English. You go down first. "Oh, it's the same. "No, I'll stay behind for anything." We barely fold and I stop and give way. You have to get up fast and go down a step of the door; Then I get back. "Well, thank you," Clara said, looking at him excitedly, and they concentrated on the plan, studying the location of her legs, the spaces to be covered. They saw that 168 would have free passage in the corner of the square; The glasses shivering, and about to strike the cordon of the square, he took the turn at full throttle. The passenger jumped from the seat forward, and behind him, Clara flew by, tumbling downstairs as he turned and hid her with his body. Clara looked at the door, the black rubber strips and the rectangles of dirty glass; He did not want to see anything else and he trembled horribly. He felt the bruise of his companion in his hair, he threw the brutal brakes aside, and the moment the door opened the driver ran down the aisle with his hands outstretched. Clara was already jumping into the square, and when she turned her companion jumped as well and the door snorted as it closed. The black rubber gripped the driver's hand, his fingers rigid and white. Clara saw through the windows that the guard had thrown herself on the steering wheel to reach the lever that closed the door.      He took her by the arm and they walked briskly across the square filled with boys and ice cream vendors. Nothing was said, but they trembled as if they were happy and without looking at each other. Clara let herself be guided, vaguely noticing the lawns, the stonecutters, smelling an air of a river that grew from the front. The florist was on the side of the square, and he went to stand before the basket mounted on trestles and chose two branches of pensaminetos. He reached Clara, then made her have the two of them while she took out her wallet and paid. But when they kept walking (he did not take her by the arm again), each one carried his bouquet, each one went with his and was happy.