#i drew some Maw in there because she deserves the good things in life

[fluffymawilefan]

I am sick and tired and sad today so I drew my husband because I wish he was in bed with me

[darkestfable]

Safe Haven

Oribos

Raetos groaned as he found his way back to the waking world. He knew he was alive by how much his body ached. His head, most of all, felt like someone was hammering multiple nails in place. Only one luminous eye opened, the other still swollen shut under bandages wrapped around his head. His abdomen was also strapped tightly. He could feel the pressure of the wrappings limiting his movement, as to not aggravate what he assumed was broken ribs. The wound on his arm had been well cleaned and bandaged. Someone had been talking very good care of him.

He smiled, not having to wonder who, feeling the body curled up against his own. Tilting his head down, he caught a glimpse of the top of Fable’s head… there was no mistaking those lovely indigo locks. 

“How long have I been out?” He asked.

For just a moment, Fable grumbled and curled more tightly against Raetos. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. The hellscape that had been The Maw was no longer ringing in his ears, and his lover was by his side again. This had to be a dream. It was never this good.

Or was it?

The blood hunter finally peeled open his eyes, sitting up after a moment to look over the large lightforged next to him. His heart fluttered at the sight of his lover’s smile, and he reached over to lay a gentle hand onto his bandaged chest. This had been no small feat, what Raetos and the others had pulled off.

“Days, love. Take as long as you need, yeah? I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Fable’s expression softened as he curled his fingers against the bandages on Raetos. Yep, still there. Still real.

The Draenei’s smile only grew wider as he reached up with his good hand to cup the side of his lover’s face. Raetos didn’t understand much of anything about death and spirits. But Fable looked well. Looked healthy. Better than he had in the Maw, for certain. 

“Careful what you say, Babe. I might ask to stay here forever,” he said, flashing his signature grin, “...wherever here is.” 

It suddenly dawned on him that they couldn’t be on Azeroth. They still had to find the soul dagger to get Fable his body back… and they obviously weren’t in the Maw anymore. Last thing he remembered was a very pissed off Avehi.

“Uh… where are we?”

“Oribos. Think that’s what they call it, anyway. Kinda a hub for uh...all sorts ‘a people,” Fable glanced at the door, as if the answer would be there. Truthfully, he’d been more worried about Raetos than asking about the name of the establishment.

He leaned over Raetos carefully to kiss him. Tender, sweet, and like he’d been afraid he’d never see him again. Everything had culminated to this point, and truthfully Fable wasn’t sure what he was doing. Getting out of The Maw had been his first task, but the blood hunter wasn’t sure if he could retrieve the dagger by himself. Wasn’t sure he’d want to do it alone. Doubt weighed heavily on him, tied down by the guilt of what he’d done to get here in the first place.

“Hey, love… You got my body, yeah? I’m gonna have somethin’ t’ go back home t’ when this shit is figured out? ‘n th’ animals are taken care of?” his voice was quiet, almost unsure. Fable loved their little life that they’d built, and still worried that he’d ruined it all.

“Mhm,” the Draenei managed a nod, thumb stroking his lover’s cheek, “The tree elf dude you got to take care of the animals while we were away agreed to stay as long as needed. I think we owe him a really REALLY big tip. Obligation and Responsibility really seems to like him, though, so don’t have to worry about them. Did you know he lived in that big ass tree that the Horde burned down? That’s where he got all the scars. Poor guy… Anyway, I was able to find your body at the dig site after going through your maps and stuff. Brought it to the healer chick that was deployed to Darkshire with me. You’re in a coma-like state back on Azeroth, and she’s keeping you nourished and stable until we manage to destroy that dagger.”

He paused in his rambling for a moment, knowing the next part was a bit touchy.

“Hey… uh… on that subject. Bad memories, I know. But like… anything you can tell me about the lady that stabbed you… physical description or name… if she gave you one…”

Another pause before adding.

“Was she hot? She must be hot.”

“Well, yeah… I mean it ain’t like I got bad taste,” Fable smirked, then paused a moment. “Wait, tree… They’re called Kal’dorei.”

The news of his body being taken care of was something of a relief, though the blood hunter still didn’t like the situation at all. Cebina had royally screwed him, and now he had to go find that dagger too? This was just getting more and more complicated…

“She uh… I’d know her if I saw her, yeah? While you were restin’ tho, I asked ‘round ‘bout the dagger ‘n souls ‘n shit ‘n this creepy lookin’ dude called a Venthyr told me ‘bout this place called Revandreth. Said a lady was there ‘n might have a dagger kinda like it?” Fable scratched at his chin in thought.

“Sounds like our next destination,” Raetos nodded, a cheerful smile on his face, “I know it’s not the best of situations, but we get to explore this whole new place together, and I’m sure we can get supplies so that you can map it all out.”

Obviously it would have been much more ideal to have Fable whole for the adventure, but there was no harm in seeing the bright side of the situation.

“Soon as moving doesn’t hurt anymore…” he winced as he shifted, “So... what’s a Venty. Not another type of elf, is it?—Not that there’s anything wrong with elves! There’s just so many different kinds and I can barely keep up with the ones I know.”

“Venthyr, luv. They’re like uh...anima vampires? Ain’t too clear on ‘em yet but I was watchin’ ‘em wander through Oribos while you were restin’,” Fable pulled out a notebook he’d obviously obtained here in the Shadowlands. A keen eye would notice that its leather bindings were a bit unlike any leather on Azeroth.

The first few pages were sloppy, slightly disproportionate sketches of the various different types of people he’d seen wandering through, along with notes of things he’d either overheard or asked them flat out. The page with the Venthyr man had no notes, however. Clearly, the hunter hadn’t approached him.

“They got fangs ‘n glowin’ eyes kinda, most of ‘em are real skinny. Nice clothes though, ‘n some of ‘em wear thigh high boots. Thinkin’ maybe I should get a pair?” the elf chuckled, leaning to stretch his leg out as far as he could, toes pointed.

“Babe, you would look hella amazing in those boots,” the Lightforged agreed, “Are there any with heels? If so, you should avoid them, because then, your already sexy ass will just look too good for me to resist. Afraid you won’t get anything done in that case.”

 His hand slipped down to give his partner’s behind a little squeeze, before he attempted to sit up. It was a more daunting task than anticipated with his injuries, but he managed. 

“Fashion sense aside, are these Venthyr people safe? The one you drew has like… an evil look to him. Or are they all that withered looking and ugly? Also, what’s anima? And what are the lampshades with legs that you drew in there?”

A smirk spread on his lips at the squeeze, but his attentions to the affections were pulled away when Raetos was trying to sit up. Fable assisted, but his brow furrowed in worry. Had his lover been hurt worse than initially thought? Damn it all, now he was fretting like a mother hen. The lampshades comment pulled the hunter out of his head though, and he just blinked for a moment before tilting the book towards him.

“The lampshades with legs? Oh, those?” Fable pointed at one of the doodles of a Broker. “They call themselves Brokers. They help facilitate trade of goods and services. Information too, ‘m sure. Ain’t got a chance to really chat jus’ yet.”

The concern crept up onto the elf’s face again, and he leaned over to kiss Raetos’ cheek.

“You doin’ okay? If you gotta rest…”

Raetos shook his head.

“Nah, just sore is all. The headache is the worst part, probably. Dude, Avehi hits -hard-! Did you see how pissed she was? Ha! Good times!” 

He smiled brightly to his lover, bringing his hand up to cup the side of his face again.

“Honestly, I’ve rested plenty. I just want to look at you,” he admitted, “I missed you so much, Bae… so don’t mind if all I want to do is cuddle and make out for a while.”

He paused, before adding with a wink.

“Wouldn’t hate a blow job either.”

The elf just smiled. That sappy, sweet, completely enraptured smile as he nuzzled into Raetos’ hand. It had felt like an eternity, fighting for his life. Being reunited had been on his mind the whole time, but even now Fable’s heart ached for the life they’d had before. Though, in the middle of his thoughts, a smirk broke through. That was the Raetos he knew.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t…” Fable turned his head to place a kiss in the palm of Raetos’ hand. “If it won’t hurt you, I’m gonna swallow you whole…”

“I mean… not like I can move much in these bandages,” he grinned, running his thumb along Fable’s bottom lip, “Doubt I’d be able to find a way to hurt myself.”

He paused as he  thought about that a moment.

“—Okay, so I would -probably-  find a way to hurt myself. But it would be hella worth it, though.”

Fable caught Raetos’ thumb between his lips, cerulean eyes closing as he pressed the barbell through his tongue against the calloused pad. A promise. As his lover spoke, the elf savored the taste of his flesh, finally opening his eyes to look up at him with a smirk. He released the thumb after a moment only to place a kiss into Raetos’ palm.

“Jus’ sit back ‘n enjoy then. You deserve t’ be worshipped,” he mumbled against the blue skin, continuing to kiss down from his hand to his wrist. Of course, he’d wait for permission.

It felt like lifetimes since he’d been away from Raetos, and only minutes that they’d been back together again. Fable felt that familiar skin hunger, but it had only gotten stronger after they were in safety, and he could touch and smell his lover again. The blood hunter had to remember to pace himself; Raetos was still recovering, and they were still in a strange place. But tomorrow could wait. Tonight belonged to them.

(Raetos is @raetos / @kidcatgemini )

[officialtrashbin]

Follow Through

Rating: T (for a sexual innuendo with Corvus’ glaive) A continuation of First Meetings, in which Corvus and Proxima have a conversation that gets very out of hand very quickly. 

“Tell me, Devil—” Proxima boosted the crate of nuclear fusion cells and essential tools onto the platform, and the impact rattled the floor of the shuttle as if it were hollowed out. The reverberation shook Corvus’ feet. “Does it hurt to die?” she finished asking, watching his back; he was hunched over the control panel, trying to understand why the configurations were so stupidly misaligned with their readings, and his only response was a grunt acknowledging that she had opened her mouth and started talking. “I cannot, for the life of me, decide what reasoning compelled you to come work for Thanos, of all the galactic sociopaths you could have earned credits from.”

“My reasons are my own,” Corvus replied sharply.

They had been fixing the ship since it was almost shot to oblivion while hijacking supplies from a patrol fleet in Xandar’s occupied quadrant. Proxima and Maw flew together like clockwork and managed to navigate them back to Sanctuary before the shuttle’s engines gave up completely. The interior was, somehow, worse than the exterior; Proxima heard the acute thump of Supergiant applying a sheet of titanium to the hull, followed by the thick scent of welding metal, courtesy of Dwarf. Maw was preoccupied with delivering the reports to Thanos, leaving Midnight virtually isolated with Corvus Glaive.

“And,” he added, “of course it hurts. It means I’m alive.”

Proxima glanced at him. She considered the tone in his words, how it dropped its previous hints of irritation—not with her, surprisingly—and she perched on the crate, folding one leg over the other. “We are not in the business of dying peaceful deaths,” she said to him.

“I cannot stay dead.”

“I am more than fully aware, but the price of immortality is the inevitability of glaring weakness.”

Corvus turned his head to look back at her. His eyes glinted crimson in the shadow, and she felt a dangerously cold rush under the surface of her skin. Then, he twisted his whole body around, the black cloak billowing in his wake like an unfurled sail—he went to her, silently, not quickly. Proxima dug one hand into the lip of the crate, anticipating all of him to descend upon her, while the other went to the back of her utility belt and traced the handle of her pistol. It wouldn’t do her any good. Yet, she was compelled by the weight of it and the knowledge that, at the very minimum, she could get the upper hand by shooting out both of his kneecaps.

“Tell me then, Proxima Midnight,” he hissed, stopping a single pace out of her reach, “of this weakness.”

“If I told you that, I would no longer have the advantage.”

“That’s the point.” His mouth split open as he grinned, exposing rows of sharp, sharp teeth. It made her feel strange to be in the same room as him with nowhere else to go. “We are, as the saying goes, in the same boat, and an advantage against me is far from proper strategy.”

Proxima considered him like some puzzle piece, detached from the bigger picture. How out of place it looked against such a comprehensive canvas.

“Your glaive,” she said.

It hadn’t been a command, but he lowered it to her shoulder all the same and she ran her forefinger curiously over the edge of the aureate blade. Her touch was feather-light, studying the masterwork with her hand while maintaining eye contact. In the last few years of working together, she had never observed it so closely; Corvus seemed to tense as if the weapon reflected his own nervous system, when she traced the elegant langet to the very tip and applied just enough pressure to almost, almost rupture the thermal layer of her glove.

“To be nothing without it,” she said, “and to be bound to its omnipotence. You are quite the curious creature.”

Corvus didn’t withdraw his glaive; he was entranced by her motions. Proxima’s fingers glided down to the socket, where she curled her grasp around the neck of the polearm and coaxed the weapon from his hand. He allowed her to take it. To wield it like an uncovered artifact from a forgotten time in a long-ago place, fingertips sliding over the polished details and intricate design in wonder. His empty hands furled and unfurled in subconscious apprehension as she examined it. Whatever it was she was making him feel, it seemed to scour bone deep.

“Two weaknesses, I believe,” she said after a moment.

“Two?”

His throat sounded dry. She chalked that up to the suppression panels in the hull and told him, “Why, a formidable fighter such as yourself? You must certainly have a lover back on your home world, or wherever it is you were spawned from.”

Corvus rolled his shoulders. “I must confess…I have—I have never before considered feelings for anyone else. My brother is very much a romantic, and though I have contemplated the occasional possibility, I was unable to—” He hesitated, treading over the memory that haunted the back of his mind. “You will find that I am considered a devil on my home world, as well.”

Proxima’s finger fell still against the flat side of the blade. “You poor creature,” she said. From this distance, she could feel the warmth that radiated from him, as if there was an eternal fire burning in his chest. “Though I suppose it would be unfair of me to pity you when we are, as you said, in the same boat.”

“You are considered a devil by your own people?”

“I took no flames with me when I left,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Have I told you that on Andavaar, I am a princess, second-cousin to a long line of nobility? On my planet, freely courting is reserved for everyone else but our family. To court a noble was to go through the process of combat with a high fatality rate, to fight for a place in the bloodline.” Proxima dipped her thumb into the underside of the glaive’s neck and rubbed free a speck of dried ichor.

Corvus raised his brow. “How many died for your hand?”

She didn’t look at him when she said, “None, so far.”

Proxima grasped the throat of the polearm and thrust the glaive out. Corvus took it in one grip. With the other palm, he covered her hand, a touch so uncharacteristic to his violent personality that she startled and flicked her eyes up to his.

“You are quite beautiful, Proxima Midnight,” he said. “Curiously, the most beautiful being I have seen. It is…quite a shame that you have not been given a throne of corpses of those vying for your hand.”

Heat rushed to Proxima’s face; she stood, lightning quick, snapping her hand away from him. “You must learn when to hold your tongue, Devil.”

“I apologize, Lady Midnight, I did not mean to cross a line—”

“That is not what I—you mustn’t compliment me unless you plan on following through. It is only proper. Were you not listening to my story?”

“Oh.” He clutched his glaive with both hands. “Will you allow me, to follow through?”

Proxima’s fists balled up at her sides, and she turned away from him to take several steps towards the open rear of the shuttle. Instead of leaving, as Corvus might have suspected by her demeanor, she all but shouted, “How could I possibly allow—are you truly that dense? We have an important job to accomplish, and personal distractions—” She was starting to sound like Maw, stumbling over lame excuses while calculating the risks involved in physical diversion.

“A simple no will suffice,” Corvus said distantly.

Proxima reminded herself to turn back around and look at him. Though his irises flared in the bracket of shadow cast from his hood, his eyes were gentle when they befell her; it had been months since she last saw that glimmer of predatory delight. It reminded her of their proximity in the shuttle, close enough to touch—how they had been getting closer for the last year, his step by step motions, measuring the distance by word quantity and volume of blood he’d shed taking a blow meant for her. Closing the distance as a diligent predator would.

This time it wasn’t him who was hunting. She was the one coming closer, advancing on him with the barreling might of her stride. “You are dense, Corvus Glaive—infuriatingly so! I have seen you follow through on nothing but killing and being killed! How can you devote yourself to Thanos and allow him to end your life a hundred times yet compromise all of it with—”

“Because I deserve it,” he uttered. “I deserve what he does to me.”

She ground to a halt. In here, there was nothing stopping her from learning, as there was nothing to stop him from being exposed. The shadows were thin, made artificial by poor light coming in from everywhere. The length of them to the back ramp of the shuttle was cast marginally larger by their closeness.

“What we deserve is made possible by what we give,” she hissed to him. “All you’ve done is ask for permission to have. To be given to. Do you not understand what it is we do?” Corvus opened his jaw to respond but she seized the front of his cloak and drew him against her, wild fire burning bright behind limpid eyes. “I will not allow you to court me if you do not deserve it, so if this, if I, am what you truly want, then you need to grow a spine and prove that you deserve to be a part of it—the Order, the plan, us—”

“You would want a devil like me?” he asked, arcing his glaive around and slamming the blade through the floor. Another thing to fix when they weren’t occupied with the collateral damage between them.

“You have one chance to find out.”

It was the permission he needed. His hands grasped her, one on her cheek, the other her hip, claws threatening to pierce through the material of her suit; Proxima hadn’t considered whether she reflected his feelings but in the moment his lips pressed to hers she decided it didn’t matter right now. She needed this to know him. There was that discernible sharpness of his teeth as they kissed, the glowing heat that emanated from him and spread to her chest by proximity, a comfort that made her get closer, one arm around his waist and the other hand to the back of his neck to take him in. The wet sliding of their tongues and the pounding of her blood in her ears.

Then he was ravenous. She was pushed back and pushed back, first at an angle and then up against the wall between the rafters and the exposed arteries of wires they still had to fix, where the warmth of the engine lifted through the ventilation and was bounced inwards by thermal layers. She opened her mouth for his tongue, eyelids slid shut to focus on the sensation of him working on her, all primal instinct, it seemed. His clawed hands took her wrists from where she had her hands on his face and pinned them to either side of her head, their fingers intertwining. Heat pooled into the dip of her stomach.

The rush overwhelmed them so suddenly, so strongly that Proxima broke the kiss first to catch her breath; they were panting from the sheer exertion of it, of skin melding into skin. Corvus knocked his forehead against hers. His eyes were no longer hauntingly crimson, but a soft and burning gold that gave her the sensation of standing deep underground.

“Two weaknesses,” he said breathlessly.

Proxima titled her chin up and laughed.

[auncyen]

There was a joyous reunion for the four heroes of light, until Agnes meets Planeswarden Airy.

...I cut it off at a slightly awkward point because it was definitely not a drabble any longer and I didn’t know what it was.

I’M ASSUMING THAT PLANESWARDEN/DIMENSIONAL OFFICER INTRODUCTIONS ARE ALWAYS, ALWAYS AWKWARD AT SOME POINT

and Agnès just manages to take the cake here.

Agnès blinked past the blood trailing into her right eye and stared up at the snake that had encircled Luxendarc, feeling numb.  So this was the ruin she had brought on the world.  All the teachings about the crystals, lies: they had brought damnation instead of salvation.  All of Airy’s promises, lies: the fairy had changed into a twisted monster and attacked them at the Holy Pillar.  Tiz and Edea had forced her to retreat into the pillar--into another world, the fairy had claimed--but now Tiz lay dead, and Edea had vanished with Airy in the light, and it was all her fault...!

And now a snake darkened the world’s horizon, as if ready to swallow it up.  After the difficult fight with Airy, Agnès already knew there was no way she could face this monster.  Not on her own.

Not on her own...she touched her pendant for one last reassurance, and then had a wild hope.  Sometimes the pendant had brought help--from other worlds?  Or times?  Whatever they were, they had been help.  They had not been false.

The snake lazily circling the world cracked open one eye that must have been as long as an island.  Agnès brought up her hands to pray one final time, clutching the pendant tightly.

“Whoever you are, wherever you are...”

Perhaps she could summon an echo of Tiz.  Perhaps she could bring back Edea.

Something in the air shifted; Agnès could feel a pressure bearing down on her.  As though the circle had closed somewhat.  She shook...it was such a powerful presence.

The pendant had only ever brought one person at a time.  It had been enough before.  It would not be now.

She would have to make it enough.  She would have to make it bring more.

“Please...hear my prayer...”   The pressure was increasing.  She poured all her energy into the pendant.  Urging it to awaken, not knowing if it even could.  It was not one of the four crystals, after all.  She knew not why it possessed the strange ability it did.  But if there was even the smallest possibility that it could bring enough help, she would make it so.

“I am Agnès Oblige, vestal to the crystals, and I have failed, but this world does not deserve destruction!”

She would have given her life to save it.  She still would.  Her heart was pounding as the pressure bore down on her even more, a distant but huge roar growing closer.  The snake was coming.  The snake was coming to devour the world, and she would be one small morsel on its tongue.  She opened her eyes to stare up at the impossible sight of a snake as big as the world bearing down on her, its mouth gaping open.

“Bring this world its warriors of light!” she screamed, barely hearing herself above the deafening roar of the world’s end.

Beneath the roar, beneath her scream, there was a third sound she sensed more than heard.  Her hands suddenly pulsated with pain as a blue light shot out from between her folded fingers, splitting the sky.  Steel, gleaming and curved and huge, suddenly blocked her view of the snake's maw.

And after that...Agnès could not say.  The pressure and blood loss grew too much, and she blacked out.

She wasn't dead.

That was the first thing she knew.

She wasn't dead, and someone was dabbing her hands with potion.  It was the mushroom smell that tipped her off, one that had always been peculiar to the medicine.

She sobbed before she could even think to stop herself.  The snake had been stopped.  Help had come.  She hadn't damned Luxendarc.  Against all odds, someone strong enough had appeared.

But her crying must have alarmed the person nursing her wounds, because the light touches suddenly stopped, even as they cradled her hand more firmly.  "Agnès?  I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Her eyes flew open at the voice.  "Tiz?"  In the next moment, her heart broke and she was ready to apologize--the coloring of his hair and the eye she could see was right, but the fringe was too long and he looked strangely older--but then he smiled at her, and it was so much Tiz that she was certain. "Tiz!"  She sat up to hug him; her head was left spinning at the suddenness of the movement, but that only made her more determined to hold on.  She didn't want to let go.  "You're alive... Thank goodness, thank...  I thought you had died."

Tiz hugged her in return, rubbing her back.  "Agnès... listen.  Luxendarc is safe now.  Airy's master is dead.  You did great."

Relieving as the news was, Agnès had to protest.  "I was the reason it was in danger."

"Because that damned fairy tricked you," Tiz argued, and Agnès was so surprised to hear the anger in his voice that she withdrew a little, thinking it aimed at her.  But Tiz's face immediately softened when he saw her fear, and he lifted a hand to pat her hair.  "If it hadn't been you she tricked, it would have been someone else.  That Airy was an ageless creature.  She would have simply bided her time until there was another vestal or vestaling.  Don't blame yourself. It was all her.  And you persisted, even when everything seemed lost."

"All I did was pray."

Tiz scoffed, pulling back a little and turning her hands toward herself.  "All you did was charge a crystalline core so strongly that you overloaded and shattered it.  The readings were apparently going wild when you drew us in."

Agnès blinked at her hands and the slivers of her blue pendant embedded in her palms.  Some had already been removed, leaving marks of skin still red and angry after the potion, but others seemed to be too deep to get out easily.  Now she understood why her hands had been hurting.  Though Tiz's words, she did not understand as much.  "Drew 'us' in...?"  She looked around for the others he was referring to...her confusion only grew.  They were alone in this room, but the room itself was filled with medical equipment seeming more advanced than even Eternia's Central Healing Tower.  Besides the soft gray walls and the comfortable beds for patients, everything seemed to be gleaming steel, and she immediately thought of the metallic mass she had seen right before blacking out.  "Tiz, where are we?"

"This is the battleship of the planeswardens," he explained, though he seemed to realize instantly that it was not the most helpful explanation.  "Um... I don't know if Airy told you, but her plan involved linking different worlds, you know?  Now that they are linked, the planeswardens help to protect all the worlds, across time and space."

"Of course she told us," Agnès said.  How could Tiz have forgotten that?  He had been so angry and distressed when Airy taunted him about another Norende having been destroyed.  "She was gloating about it.  To hurt you..."

Tiz opened his mouth for an instant and then closed it, apparently second guessing whatever he had been ready to say.  "Agnès... what's most important is that you don't blame yourself for her evil."

It was hers, too, for having been a fool.  Agnès didn't say that, knowing Tiz would be upset by it, and she was not sure what else to say when he was withholding something from her.  Tiz was not a liar by nature, and she felt like she should know what the issue was, but her head was still too muddled to tease out what was wrong.

After an awkward silence, Tiz fiddled with a small ring on his finger and talked into it, instantly gaining Agnès' curiosity as she realized he was talking to someone.  "Agnès is awake.  Limited visitors, let's not overwhelm her, please."

"Dibs!  I have dibs!" a girl's voice tinnily shouted from the ring.  "And ha, that's rich of you, Tiz."

"Indeed, Edea," a man's voice cut in.  "Tiz has been keeping Agnès all to himself while she's been sleeping, and now he wants to do it when she's awake, too?"

"I was treating her," Tiz ground out, but he was starting to blush hard enough to reach the tips of his ears.  Agnès was fascinated by the sight he made, but didn't really note the accusation that had been made against him.  Her mind had stopped processing anything after the confirmation that Edea was present on the ship as well.  "...I suppose the two of you should be fine.  But seriously, take it easy?  We need to explain everything to her."

"Edea's here..." Agnès sighed.  Her heart felt full enough to burst, knowing both her friends had been saved from harm.

There was that strange look on Tiz's face again, like he wanted to say something, but he eased into a smile.  "Mm," he said.  "I was really happy the first time I saw her here, too."

And that didn't sound right either--he sounded genuine, but it wasn't the emotion that was the problem, it was the phrasing, as if "the first time" might have been a while ago--but Agnès wasn't allowed much time to think longer on it.  There was a thunderous pounding down the hallway running alongside the healing room, and a glimpse of Edea's blonde hair was all the warning Agnès got before the younger girl jumped on top of her.

"Agnès!  Agnès, Agnès, Agnès!"

"...What part of 'don't overwhelm'..."

Edea did not even pause in affectionately nuzzling her friend as she answered Tiz indignantly.  "It's not overwhelming, it's making up for lost time, blockhead!  You don't mind, do you Agnès?"

"How long have I been out?" Agnès asked; while she didn't mind the affection, per se, Edea's boisterous delight was frazzling.  And unexpected in its intensity.  "'Lost time'...how much time did I lose?"

"Oh, uh...." Edea hesitating set off alarms in the vestal's head.  Edea was not known for being hesitant. "It's not just you, you know?  Mrgrgr... Tiz, I thought you would have explained this part at least!"

"...Sorry."  Tiz looked aside.

"Perhaps I could explain?" the newcomer at the door was a stranger to Agnès for a few moments, but then she placed his white blond hair and hazel eyes and gasped out loud.

"Alternis Dim!"

He bowed.  "At your service, dear Agnès, though I'd prefer you call me 'Ringabel'.  You see," he continued when she stared at him blankly.  "I am Alternis, but considering I'm from a world where Alternis is infinitely more lovable, I've had need of a different name to distinguish me from the less adorable dark knights."

"He's from bizarro world," Edea told Agnès.  "Don't worry if you don't understand him, he doesn't make sense by default."

"He's from some world, anyway," Tiz said as 'Ringabel' pouted.  "And that's the thing, Agnès.  All the Dimensional Officers are from different worlds.  We've just happened to be brought together.  The worlds have many things in common, and we've all known you as a friend, but..."

It still took Agnès a moment to piece it together after Tiz's words lapsed awkwardly.  "Don't blame yourself for her evil."  Tiz and Edea both looking different from as she'd just seen them, older.  Why it had been a long time since they had seen her.  They weren't...  "... My friends are dead and gone."

"...We gave the Tiz of your world a proper burial.  He's resting in peace with his loved ones," said the Tiz that wasn't her friend, while the Alternis who wasn't Alternis gave him a long side glance.   "We didn't see Edea at all.  Did she fall in the Pillar?"

"Yes..."

"Then she may have survived after all," 'Ringabel' said, focusing on Agnès again.  "After all, that's how I got my start as Ringabel.  Fell through the Holy Pillar into another world, and survived perfectly whole.  With, perhaps, a touch of amnesia--but that only helped my mysterious charm!"

"Ugh, Ringabel, you didn't need to add that part, you're worrying her," Edea said grumpily.  "Look, Agnès, I'm a lot tougher than him, okay?  I'm sure your Edea made it just fine."

"Is there a way to look for her?"  All well and good to think Edea had pulled through with nary a scratch, but Airy had been right beside her.  Agnès could not simply take it for granted that--

"Ringabel!!  Where did you go?"

It was such a tiny, unthreatening voice, not even calling for her, but Agnès' heart plummeted so fast and so far, it was like she had been dropped into an icy lake.

Airy.

Tiz was instantly furious.  "She is not okay," he hissed at Ringabel.  "You know that, she should know that--"

"I know, I know," Ringabel said instantly, raising his hands placatingly.   "She must have thought Agnès was asleep still--Agnès, it's fine, she's not the one you knew. "  He didn't waste a second more in turning out of the room, his hand reaching up to scoop a terribly familiar fairy out of view just as she appeared in the doorway.  "AIRY--you have an abominable sense of timing--"

"What is she doing here."  Agnès' voice was too flat to turn it into a question.

"She's a planeswarden too," Edea said, holding onto Agnès' hands.  It no longer felt like a comfort, but a restraint.  "Even though some of us don't really like it.  But she really is a different Airy, Agnès--"

"--She's lying."

"No, we know she's different--Airy died, Agnès, Ringabel is one of the Warriors of Light that saw her die--"

"He's lying.  You're lying."  That was how Airy worked, after all, tricks and lies, and she was still alive and fully capable of manipulating people.  Agnès' mind was spinning wildly now that she realized how complacent she had been.  Letting herself think these were her friends, when she had known she'd brought her friends to their dooms.  Letting herself think Luxendarc was safe--how could she know?  Perhaps it was still in danger, perhaps it was already gone, she kept letting herself be tricked.  Her throat choked up with unshed tears, and she tried to yank her hands away from Edea.  The girl only held on tighter.  "Let go of me!"

"J-just calm down first, all right--?"

"Agnès, please," Tiz said, reaching out to her.  "Airy isn't going to do anything to you, we'll make sure--"

"Stop!"  She flinched away before his hand could touch her shoulder.  "Stop pretending to be my friend!"

His hand stilled instantly, but Edea's hold on her was firm.  Agnès' struggling grew more desperate and intense as she tried to get away, wanting to be anywhere but here, and then--

She yanked both hands toward her chest, and this time she was strong enough to pull Edea slightly off balance.  Her hands touched.

She hissed in pain as the shards of the pendant scraped against her hands and each other.

A blue light appeared, and she was gone.

She was aware of a period in which she did not have physical form.

She couldn't speak, or blink, or talk, or move.  She couldn't even see or hear, really.  She just was, a loose collection of thoughts that had once been a fool of a vestal.

...

The existential terror kept her frightened for a while, but then she decided that things had been constantly going wrong around her for a long time, even before reaching the Holy Pillar, and if she was the common factor, perhaps it was better she couldn't be "around".  She would just be.  Or not be.  Whichever was the case.

...

She had long become bored of not just frightening thoughts, but all her thoughts and herself entirely, when a sudden jerk anchored her back into reality.

"Trés magnifique, Yew!  It worked!"

"Ah!  Your Holiness!  Hands apart, please.  You've got some very unstable crystal material that can manipulate time-space on you, and we don't want to lose you again."

Agnès stared at the two speakers, a beautiful young woman with silver hair and a boy with brown hair and a pair of reading glasses resting on his nose, absolutely lost as to who they were, or how she was flesh and blood again, for that matter.  Though the gleaming metallic sheen of the room gave her some idea where they all were, at least.

The boy blinked at her confusion, and then stammered.  "O-oh, right, you haven't been the pope.  Sorry, Lady Agnès.  Force of habit.  I'm Yew Geneolgia."

"Magnolia Arch!" the woman called out with a smile.

"...Planeswardens?" Agnès asked faintly.  She had no idea why the heir of the Geneolgia family of all people would be out on a ship like this, but clearly life was just not going to make sense anymore.

"Exactement!" Magnolia nodded.  "We'll make sure to explain everything properly this time, Agnès.  All we ask is that you stay calm, okay?  If you disappear again, the entire ship will be in an uproar.  Again."

"I suppose I don't want to disappear again, either," Agnès allowed.  And having nothing but her thoughts for that time had given her some opportunity to process them, the initial panic long over.  "But I am going to need a very detailed explanation on how Airy is not a lying monster."

"Of course.  Yew, why don't you take her to the break room to have a seat?  And while you start explaining, I'll make us some tea."

[rizzythemonk]

Housekeeping!

Becoming the Purveyor’s maid for a month had given Riz, the ever productive, ever nosy little busy bee way too much to work with until almost no one had seen hide nor hare of him for days unless it was specifically catering to business. For one the office was spotless. Every inch dusted, polished and put into order. Extra supplies were ordered when needed, bits and baubles necessary were picked up at the fleet exchange at his usual discounted rate, with the savings making room in his pockets as he kept everything in the books to corrected pricing. Hey, he was doing the maid service as punishment, he never agreed to do it for free.

He cemented Captain Featherblood’s tax rate at fourteen and a quarter percent as if he had been haggling with himself. If he was the Captain he would have made a passionate argument that for the good of Sunspire she had brought them protection and equipment at a great cost. On the other hand all captains worked towards the good of the port in their own way. He went as far as to act out the argument, trying his best to force his vocal cords to mimic the much more feminine tones until from the outside of the office it may have legitimately sounded like the woman was there debating terms and numbers. When he was done, he wrote the whole thing up in Blaque’s script and sent it off by courier for her to sign.

Next he handled a friendly man named Jarred in some kind of black and red uniform. When the man brought up the Atlas Company suddenly Riz offered him a seat and got as much of the story of the business as elvenly possible. The man had been with the company through each of its previous owners, friends and direct lieutenant to the most recent investor and the current commander, Darnath Windere.

More importantly the man came with his own array of paperwork and oh how Riz loved things written up by the books almost as much as he liked when nothing of a paper trail existed ever. He set this ‘Jarred’ at the standard fifteen percent considering two of Atlas’ ships were already documented at that rate, and drew up paperwork that ensured the rest of the fleet were kept at the same numbers.

“Oh, I’m suppose to mention the statue out in the courtyard? What kind of discounts do we get for the commander being instrumental in bringing him back to life?”

That. Was new. Darnath Windere had helped Mavas bring Kurel back, meaning he had knowledge of demons and a skill set that the monk could not account for either by his business, his dancing… (Unless he lap danced Kurel back to life. ...which would be a far more believable story were Mr. Windere a Ms…) but could possibly be accounted for by the number of times Silas Darkmoon kicked Riz off the island just for asking to speak with the coveted dancer. Puzzled pieces, all of them. Though he wondered why he even cared about it a little. As the quartermaster of the Aurora left the office to be straightened again, Riz could only come to one conclusion why it was a lead at all: Mavas didn’t want him to know. Outsmarting his peer, rival, friend, comrade held its own achievements. Beating him at something, anything, proved it could be done on another level someday if it was ever necessary.

He found that the Black Maw still had not made a contract and rolled his eyes. Come on Killian! Riz went about the same sort of argument with the redheaded captain in his mind and mouth, pacing back and forth to mimic his movements. Kept his ears straight and unmoving, head down a tad to keep the cowl covering his face where possible, squared his shoulders in a more stocky, less elven grace and conveyed the man’s boisterous excitement convincingly well. He still set the bargain at the same standard he’d give Atlas and set that one aside to deliver himself along with a stack of noodles when they arrived in port on Saturday morning. They were going to eat noodles by darn it!

Then there was the quiet whimpering coming from the side bedroom and the asset oh so affectionately called ‘the girl’ in most cases. He accepted she probably heard his practice and work at mimicking through the door as a piece of information she could own. She wouldn’t be the first to know, and men and women of more strategic mind had laughed off his jester like abilities without a second glance.

He could hear the talk around her, perhaps not enough to get specifics, but the tone of how she pulled at heart strings and the constant message that she was -oh so innocent- sent a shiver of frustration down the monk’s spine. No one was innocent. Not in his world. Not in his port and after speaking to Aranya he realized why it irked him so. This concept of innocent or guilt, whether of personality or of specific wrongful doings by her mother put her on a pedestal above the rest of them. Whispering that she was full of goodness and didn’t deserve to be in Sunspire meant the rest of them were not in their own ways and only survived off the scraps of the port because their inner selves were tainted and terrible. It was her privilege that pissed him off.

With Blaque out of the office, the linger of shadows telling Riz nothing on his whereabouts, the monk let himself into Feylan’s room, standing against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m gonna tell ya, the same thing I got told when I was brought here. When I had no choice, but makin a life here.” And yet for once, when Riz might normally shift into the voice of the person he quoted, he stayed himself. They were his words now, not just Kurel’s. “Break your chains on the rocks in Sunspire’s bay. Spill your blood in her streets an’ she’s y’home. An if she is, then you are a free woman. Y’get me? Good. Now, if y’want t’start takin y’freedom back. Put y’shoes on, grab a clipboard, an writin stuffs an come with me t’the dry dock. There’s work t’do.”

He started out the door to ignore whatever answer she could give him, but paused, speech not quite over, “Look. I know its scary, but whatever life of comfort y’came from was no less a cage considered y’got bartered in the first place. You’re just realizin now y’were never free. No’ really. I’m offerin you a chance to take y’life in y’own hands. So come with an’ do it or stop with the sniffles cuz their damned annoyin while I’m tryin t’work.”

@mrblaque @feylansilverlight @featherbloodsisters @darnath @shaded-hawke @zaderick @theblackmaw @kurel-andiel @sunspireport