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pekoehoneyncream · 2 months ago

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Ghoaptober # 29

Prompt: Explosion

Words: 1600~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

So... recently I finally got around to watching Furiosa.

Mad Max Fury Road is honestly one of my favourite movies and writing a Mad Max Call of Duty Crossover was super fun.

Enjoy!

Soap slid up to the top of the dune, laid belly down just behind the crest, and aimed his binoculars at the loner that they had been idly tracking for the past week.

They’d been aware of the ‘Three Strongholds’ under Immortan Joe since their inception, or since they’d made a name for themselves and started throwing their weight around at least. It was always wise to keep no less than half an eye on manic death cults at any given time, but the word around the wasteland now was that Joe had been overthrown. The one-four-one had no real interest in the going ons of the Citadel, but the trail of explosions, death, and scrapped cars that had run back and forth from the Citadel for a solid week was hard to miss.

Whether or not the three sisters were willing to trade with outsiders under the new management, now that was something worth checking in on.

They’d been scouting around the Strongholds on and off for a good month and a half -or fifty odd days as the wastelanders would put it- and the only person that was consistently let in and back out of the Citadel was this one half-feral loner. The man had some kind of freakish sixth sense for being watched and got twitchier than a race horse on crack when they stalked him with any kind of real intent. So, they’d deliberately let him be a back-burner project, circling around to him every so often, until they had all the intel they wanted. They were now relatively sure that he wasn’t some kind of bait, nor would he shoot first and ask questions later.

Soap watched the man finish setting up a meager slap-dash camp, then slid back down the dune to whence he came. They were losing daylight and they really didn’t want to make the bad first impression of approaching the man after dusk, no one with good intentions comes up to a camp at night.

“Good to go?” Price asked, and Soap immediately knew their Captain was more nervous than he was letting on by the way he was chewing on the butt of one of his precious few cigars.

“Guid tae go,” Soap affirmed, moseying over to shamelessly press his back into Ghost’s chest. If there was one good thing about the apocalypse, it was that they had to deal with a lot let bureaucracy and homophobes, “He’s jus’ settin’ up fer the nigh’,”

“Good, Good,” Price nodded, taking a deep calming breath and tucking the cigar away in one of his many pockets, “Garrick, with me.”

Price and Gaz walked around so they wouldn’t be approaching the man’s camp directly from theirs, then with one last showing of ‘all-okay’ hand signals from everyone they headed in. It’d been decided early on that when they finally put this ‘meeting the locals’ plan into action Price and Gaz would be the ones sent in for the first meeting, while Ghost and Soap stayed back to guard the transport.

Max watched the two men sidle up to his car, raising empty hands and stopping where they were when Max pointed a gun at them. Their faces were amiable, but their eyes were sharp. These two were no ordinary wasteland scavs coming in to see if a bit of threatening would get Max to show a soft underbelly.

Being pinned under their intent stares felt oddly familiar.

“You coming from the Citadel?” The one in the floppy hat asked, politely not lowering his hands.

The other one got agitated when Max swung his aim to centre on the chatty one. Nothing obvious, but the tensing of his shoulders and the twitch of his fingers rang with discontent.

Max wasn’t pleased by how rhetorical the question felt, and grunted in a ‘what of it’ manner to get the conversation moving towards their point.

“We just wanted to ask about it,” Chatty says calmly, “Heard it’s not Immortan’s anymore.”

A pensive hum rolls from Max’s chest. He’s had a few conversations like this before, but he was always the one to initiate them. These men didn’t look to be the kind desperately scraping by and looking for salvation. They weren’t perfect -as scuffed and weather beaten as any other wastelander-, but they were obviously a long ways away from dire straits. Max didn’t enjoy being put on the backfoot like this, and especially didn’t like not knowing what they knew or why they were asking.

“More?” Max coughs out of his sand-rasped throat, “Of you.” He elaborates when all he gets is blank stares.

They'd walked up to his camp.

It was smart. Unthreatening and not risking their ride, but it was very dumb to leave anything worth stealing unattended in the wastes; and these men didn’t strike Max as being particularly stupid.

Max’s question gave them pause, there was much darting of glances as they tried to keep the gun in view and silently debate to a decision at the same time. With a resigned grumble Max let the gun drop, but didn’t holster it. The dip in hostility decided them and -after an exchange of nods- the shorter one backed off the way they came, leaving Chatty behind in Max’s company.

“‘ppreciate that,” Chatty tipped his chin at the gun now held at Max’s side, with an agreeable smile.

The smile didn’t make Max feel any safer, that Chatty wasn’t fazed by being left alone with an unknown man showed some brass-balled confidence, and that much self-assurance made Max nervous of what was backing it up. The way Chatty didn’t even twitch at the distinct rumble of a large vehicle approaching them, gave Max his first clue.

The thickly armoured beast that rolled over the Western dune, clad in faded sand-blasted camo paint, gave him his next one.

It looked like it was used to taking hits, a thing like that could probably shrug off thundersticks like gnats. Heavily built, the behemoth was blatantly meant for busting through anything that stood in its way, the empty -but well maintained- turret-stand on the roof loaning credence to that idea. There’s no way a goliath like that came with any real acceleration or cornering and it definitely guzzles gas like it’s dying of thirst, but the bike-racks mounted onto its sides tell Max that they’d thought of that and that they weren’t afraid of modding their rolling fortress.

Two new men hop down from the beast accompanied by the one sent to fetch them, and Max instantly knows why they were not part of the greeting party. It wasn’t so much the man with the warhawk and black smeared under his eyes from ear to ear, but the big fucker wearing half a skull on his face.

Skullface had blacked out everything not covered by the bone. His jaws and around his eyes meticulously coated in opaque layers of whatever grease they used. He’d even blackened the bottom of the skull’s eye sockets and added dark lines trailing up and down away from them, like tire-tracks. The sheer menace he projected easily made up for any humanizing aspect the bramble of sun bleached white-blonde curls that framed the skull-mask might have given him.

Max gave a chest rattling sigh and gestured for them to get on with it, he’d seen weirder.

“I’m Price. This is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.” Chatty took it upon himself to introduce them, pointing to Fetch, Warhawk, and Skullface in turn, “We wanted to ask about what’s going on with the Citadel.”

Max nodded, that’d already been said. Glancing around at the men who were making a very conscious effort to not surround him, Max cleared his throat, “Imperator Furiosa. She- Mmm- She killed the Immortan. She’s uh- She’s running it now.” In truth, there was a whole council system that spanned every rank and job of the Citadel, but Max wasn’t gonna try to explain something he barely understood, and definitely not to a bunch of strangers.

Understanding nods came from the group, there was a bit of shuffling as they relaxed a little. Skullface hooked a hand into one of Warhawk’s straps, towed the man into his embrace, and dropped his cheekbone against the side of Warhawk’s head. His dark eyes gleaming with easily read possessiveness. If the way Warhawk eagerly sank into Skullface’s grip was anything to go by, it was a mutual sort of thing. Max allowed himself to sit back against the side of his rebuilt Interceptor and take his weight off his bad knee, as it seemed like they weren’t planning on getting violent, but still didn’t holster his gun. He wasn’t trusting them that much.

“Are they trading?” Surprisingly, it was Fetch that spoke up. The grunt that Max responded with carried no real subtext, but Fetch obligingly elaborated anyway, “Gas Town and Bullet Farm, are they trading with outsiders?”

So that’s what they were after, Max felt some of the wariness fall out of his bones and nodded, humming agreeingly. There was an open market in each of the cities now, free for anyone to walk in and trade for what they wanted, provided that they weren’t there to cause a ruckus. Causing a problem in the markets was a good way to get dead quick.

“Noon-time,” He bit out, the sudden drop in tension making him feel uncharacteristically verbose, “Markets.”

More nods from the group, with a thankful cant this time.

“We’ll have to check it out,” Chatty said with a clap of his hands, “Thank you for that, we’ll be out of your hair now.”

With no further words exchanged, Chatty climbed into the diver’s seat of their beast while Fetch hopped up to ride shotgun, Warhawk and Skullface going around to clamber into the back. It was all done with a rote kind of efficiency, and Max was watching their dust cloud disappear into the haze of the horizon within the minute.

If it wasn’t for the tracks they’d left behind, Max might have thought the entire encounter was a very weird hallucination. With a slightly disbelieving shake of his head, Max went about throwing all his stuff back into the Interceptor, set on finding somewhere safer to camp.

Who just pulls over and asks for directions in the wastelands?

Thank You For Reading!

The thing that the 141 are driving around is the Australian 'Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle'. I imagine that they "commandeered" it when things started to go to hell.

Also, look! I drew on Soap's war paint, I'm honestly super proud of how it turned out.

Yes, Ghost did eventually admit defeat to the heat and forgo the full-face black balaclava, but he's still not showing off the goods. Though, being able to make out with Soap whenever he wants now is an upside.

No, Max never told them his name.

About the empty, but maintained, turret-stand: They got sick of A-People trying to steal the turret gun, and B-Constantly cleaning the sand out of it. It's kept inside the transport until they need it.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

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randbwrite · 4 years ago

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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 4 Part 1

Words: 1649

TW: None CW: Vampires

A bow went to Comtesse for her compliment made. There was certainly more to him than would meet the eye, as Cal had found out firsthand. Several times over, now, the two of them locked eyes and all of the questions burning bright in emerald eyes settled at last. Heh, for the moment. He could see a build up of new ones coming, something Cal almost never seemed to run out of. That and jokes.

Eyes widened as he tumbled off the rafter, only to have one of his hands stuck to a wooden support beam. Cringing as she heard him scream, she looked him over as he spoke.

<<Afraid killin' ya was a one-time deal, ma'am. You'll find me as harmless as a lamb. Oy, Derrick! Tell me you’re seeing this too? Even if you’re not, humor me. Please?>>

"Well then, suppose that means I can take you out of here alive. Now, let go." Her eyes flashed as she floated up to him, gently catching him in her arms. The power of persuasion was something all pure bloods had, though she rarely needed to use it. It was called for here, as he likely had no idea of how to use his powers. A laugh left her as she held onto him and began to slowly float down towards Derrick.

“Ah, so that’s his name. Glad to meet you, Derrick. Cal, my name is Rosaline Arcanum, though I suppose you know that already. I’m a pure blood vampire. It would appear that I accidentally sired you on the battlefield. Seems you are already exhibiting powers. Never seen anyone with the ability to hold onto things like that before. Suppose there’s a first for everything. Reminds me a bit of Spiderman. Suppose you might be at this point, minus the whole web shooting thing.”

Shoes clicked on the marble floor, yet she left him suspended in the air just about a foot above the floor. “Let’s take a look at you, shall we?” Eyes roved over his form before she tenderly touched his hand. Eyes glowed for a second and it flashed in her mind: more recent memories of what had been taking place.

Glancing at Derrick, she spoke quietly, “Thank you for keeping him alive. Rare to see someone know what to do with a newly turned vampire. Though, I imagine you know a fair bit more than first impressions give rise to.”

Turning her gaze back to Rapscallion, she sighed, “I’m going to lay this out for you. Apologies if it upsets you or makes you question your sanity any more than you already have. You were exposed to my blood on the battlefield. This is why you are still alive, as no normal mortal could have survived the injuries I gave you. The reason that I’m still alive is because of what I am. It’s almost impossible to kill one of my kind, though I have done it, and will again if it’s called for.

Vampires, both pure bloods, and lesser vampires, such as yourself, develop specific abilities. Yours seems to be grabbing onto things with just your skin, and…. The other is a bit difficult to discern. It’s hard to tell from your memories if it’s super speed or if you are teleporting, but either way, you are ending up places you shouldn’t be. Suppose you will figure it out eventually. One of the powers I possess is telekinesis, hence why I can float or fly, and is why you are still swimming in the air presently. I’m also a telepath, so I can basically get into your head and see what I want to… for the most part. I only saw the most recent things out of respect and to deal with things as quickly as possible.

Now, you, as a lesser vampire have a choice. You can start drinking blood to live, or you can wither away and die. You haven’t healed yet because you haven’t fed. The other choice you have here is whether you will leave this place with me. No harm will come to you if you decide to come live in my castle with me, though the residents probably aren’t too thrilled with this prospect. Or, you are welcome to stay here. You have till we get to what remains of the front doors to decide. And by the way, your friend can see this perfectly fine, just seems to not be phased by it from what I can tell.” Her laughter rang out and echoed through the space, the vaulted ceilings serving as the best acoustics.

B: Derrick:

Derrick watched, impassive through the fall, the nudge of mind and manipulation of matter, her explanation fitting with what he knew so far. What was of more interest was noting how Cal took it all. Had he not been supported via telekinesis, the red head would’ve needed to sit down. Or fallen, a second time. He’d flinched, a momentary tick of a muscle in his jaw the only tell, but Derrick knew. Involuntary touch had never been a kindness. It was this time, and he wished so badly to tell him that...however some things could only be learned through personal experience.

“So...I’m a superhero! Yahoooo that’s sweet!!”

Out of all the reactions one might’ve expected...that wasn’t on the list. Superhero? What was that? Cal had better not be pulling phrases from his hometown for 400 again. Yes, Derrick’s picked up a few. This must mean Cal’s survival mechanisms were back up and running again. That was good. They’d have to discuss the humane sourcing of human blood so he wouldn’t be internally freaking out all the while with that same silly smile on his face. Derrick had gotten good at seeing the small tells, but that didn’t mean he’d catch everything.

Rapscallion:

Spiderman?! How does she know about Spiderman!?? Too cool!!! There was definitely some internal happy dancing going on, external movement forgone for some deep thinking. The reference was kind of like a reboot, reviving the part of him that was the kid who always caused trouble, trying to bring about a laugh. And my but she had some beautiful laughter! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such lovely peals resounding in these blood-soaked halls.

Yeah, he’d focus on that and let the other stuff percolate for a sec. Testing out the extent of this hold seemed like a lotta fun too! He sat, finding it comfortable to hover in a kicked back position with one leg crossed over the other, fingers folded in his lap. Totally not trying to hide how they were trembling or anything. Fight or flight response; a difficult thing when it’s not actionable and can’t be switched off.

“Does that mean I’m an X-Men now? Ohhhh hey! You’re totally Professor X! Except way hotter. Hey, Derrick ol’ boy, don’t give me that look! You’ve gotta be thinking it too. Oh right, I forgot. You’d use words like, ‘Her elegance and pulchritude are unrivaled by anything my eyes have beheld before, or will hence.’ Am I right?”

Cal was lost to a laughing fit, great way to let off nervous energy, while Derrick raised an amused eyebrow...trying unsuccessfully to remain impassive.

“Just because some of us have class...”

“Who’re you calling uncivilized?”

“If the boot fits?”

“I’ll show you just where this boot fits, you overgrown Boy Scout!”

The banter between the two was that of old friends, though before now that would not have been a title they’d have flaunted. Which reminded him—before Derrick could get in another repartee, Cal was off with a question.

“Hold up hold up. You have got a lotta names, sweets. Is there one you prefer to go by? Also, do ya really mean it? I—,“ he swallowed thickly, a vulnerable expression no one had seen on Cal’s face since he was a lad...or sleeping, though Derrick would never speak of it...not quite being shuttered quickly enough to be missed. “I can go with you? You-you’re not going to leave me here?”

And he was back to the boy, remembering the day he’d first walked into the Citadel and discovering there was no way out. Not permanently. Would transforming into a kickass superhero by the supreme X-...er, Woman do the trick? Was she bluffing? Another overly confident royal who had it in their head they could defy the assassins? Derrick seemed to believe her, and that usually took some doing. Course he was also making gaga eyes at her, so his judgement might be suspect, but seeing as how Derrick had never looked at a woman that way...least far as Cal knew...maybe there was something real there. Not just another cruel joke.

It was a gamble, or seemed to be. But after the last week? Er...make that over a decade...it was one he was willing to take. Besides! “Shouldn’t let the big guy out of my sight anyway, always getting himself into trouble, he is.”

Technically that was true of both of them. Derrick sticking his neck out for people he shouldn’t, even those around the Citadel who refused to see him as a human being, and Cal, constantly stirring things up...for good or bad.

“How do you propose we get out of here? Nearest window? Need a bodyguard? I know I don’t look like much right now, and you can float an’ all, but there’s gonna be a whole passel of people ticked off you’ve invaded their home.”

The glance at Derrick revealed the man still didn’t look perturbed. Amused, yes. Pensive or concerned, not even the slightest. Okay, so...vampires, floaty people, an entire Citadel full of assassins, and nothing was bothering him? Sheesh, he’d like to know where the man found his chill. Again, vampires?!? Course, this one was really hot...

#cw: vampires #vampires #ikemen vampire #whump #whumpfic #dark fantasy #fanfiction #oc #derrick #rapscallion #comtesse #au #assassin

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biotek · 4 years ago

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@lasarus says: clink. porcelain mug set aside for kaidan, the commander tucked away into his own coffee; expression neutral, though a tinge of something melancholic just beneath the surface. staring out into the vast openness of space in observation always had that affect. the quiet company was nice, though.

he was just thinking about how he was craving coffee. following today’s mission, he opted to spend the night alongside incoming reports from throughout the galaxy, omni-tool aglow within his darkened sanctuary. back to life and now reading minds, maybe there was a god somewhere within his commander. kaidan reaches for the mug, wordlessly grateful of how shepard remembered random, useless tidbits of information: commander, as a coffee connoisseur, i have to say that it tastes best black, from an old, banged up mug.

it’s immediately filled with black coffee, an instant brewer he picked up from their last visit to the citadel. well, last peaceful visit.

“ thanks. ” he finally replies, tone hushed, almost afraid to break the silence engulfing their ship. the coffee cools rapidly, kaidan having picked up these specific coffee pods for that reason. he takes a few sips, once again finding himself resting upon the starboard deck’s couch, positioned towards the stars.

tali had mentioned it years ago: the normandy ran quiet. more recently, any modicum of peace was a rarity, a luxurious one at that. without the firefights, the running, reapers and the constant death which they brought in their midst, serving on the normandy felt like a love affair of sorts, evoking warm feelings in his gut.

or coffee, maybe those warm feelings were coffee.

“ i miss them. my students. was hoping to give them an experience that was better than what we went through. ” there are numerous reports scattered across the couch, the floor, datapads strewn about. his gaze is fixed outwards: it made speaking easier, for some reason, alleviating that pensive pit of despair growing within. “ i haven’t found them yet. when i do, i might drag you on a mission, just you and me. from what i read, you’ve gotten into the habit of taking missions like that. ”

#ii. mission report. / answered.#iii. my hands will kill a god. / me3.#lasurus #hi :^) take some quiet post-mission melancholy

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strifescloud · 5 years ago

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our eyes fighting the light

900 words, akashi kuniyuki/tsurumaru kuninaga, G rating post-kishou hongi

He really didn’t feel like doing anything, anyway, so he thought it was fine to stay - stay where Tsurumaru’s cool fingers can keep winding soothingly in his hair, and let his eyes slip shut as the sky darkened.

read on ao3

The citadel, for once, was quiet.

The dying rays of the sun had begun to slip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the walls that was befitting of the cusp of summer. The air felt heavy and stagnant, the grass unmoving except where Gokotai’s tigers darted through and swiped at the strands, and Kuniyuki felt the weight of it as he sprawled across the engawa. He lay along the edge of the wood, one arm propping up his head as he stared out into the sunset.

The dull pulse in his other forearm had yet to fade, the pain ever-burning beneath the bandages.

The citadel remained quiet, no hint of footsteps, and Kuniyuki brought his arm up to stare at the white cloth he’d hastily wrapped around it. He had no frame of reference for these things - swords were in the business of creating wounds rather than healing them, after all - but he had hoped the pain would subside soon, if only because it was making it harder for him to sleep.

“BWAH!”

Kuniyuki nearly toppled off the edge.

He grabbed at his chest, heart pounding wildly as he looked up at the source of familiar laughter. Tsurumaru stood above him, a broad and self-satisfied grin beaming down as he laughed - and something about the sight, even familiar as it was now, of a sword of such grace and beauty consumed with such human-like joy makes Kuniyuki pause mid-breath. Tsurumaru almost seemed to glow beneath the dying sun, and even as he shuffles to sit beside him, still laughing softly, it takes Kuniyuki another few moments to find his words again.

"I told you that was bad for my heart, didn’t I, Tsurumaru-han?”

“Sorry, did I surprise you?”

The mischievous twist to his grin made the apology seem insincere, but Kuniyuki found he didn’t mind. The sky began to darken, and some part of him missed the brilliant expression when it faded to a more restrained smile.

“Still injured, are you?” Tsurumaru’s eyes flicked down to his forearm, and Kuniyuki couldn’t help but feel that the molten gold burns right through the bandages.

“Ahh,” Kuniyuki sighed, turning his head to avoid the gaze that slid back up to his face, “I don’t really have the energy to go to the repair room right now, you know? We only just got back from this mission, so try not to expect anything out of me for a while.” He yawned pointedly, lying back across the engawa as he was before with an exaggerated stretch, and tried to pretend the reason he didn’t meet the piercing gaze is because his head found itself near Tsurumaru’s leg.

“If it healed on its own,” Tsurumaru began, “wouldn’t that be a surprise? Almost like we were really human.”

Kuniyuki tried to keep his breath even, and Tsurumaru laughed again.

“Human, huh?” Kuniyuki murmured, the fingers of his injured arm flexing involuntarily, and he hears Tsurumaru’s chains clink and shift. He tilts his head up and back, looking up, and Tsurumaru’s still staring down at him. A pensive frown had taken over his features, and as their eyes finally met Tsurumaru’s hand came down to wrap around Kuniyuki’s upper arm.

“You surprised me a bit too back there, you know?” Tsurumaru continued, the smile returning to his face, and Kuniyuki found himself strangely glad to see it return even as he ripped his eyes away to stare back at the darkened horizon.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but he told himself it was to stem Tsurumaru’s next words.

Kuniyuki sat half-upright, shuffling backwards and dropping his head into Tsurumaru’s lap, and some vindictive satisfaction shot through him at his new view of the surprise on Tsurumaru’s face. The hesitance that he sensed from the usually carefree sword was new to him, and he waited in silence, blinking up at Tsurumaru with feigned innocence.

Slowly, delicately, a hand moved from Tsurumaru’s side to slide thin fingers through Kuniyuki’s hair.

Though Tsurumaru’s fingers were cold, the touch felt like it burned Kuniyuki’s skin more than the nearly-forgotten pain in his forearm. The fabric of Tsurumaru’s clothes was impossibly soft beneath Kuniyuki’s neck, and he found himself involuntarily leaning into it.

“What are you doing?” Tsurumaru asked, the usually cheerful voice soft and musical as he smiled down at him.

“Are you complaining?” Kuniyuki deflects, voice high in an affected whine, “I thought I was the one who never wanted to do anything around here.”

“Not complaining, just wondering.” Tsurumaru countered, and Kuniyuki huffed, “It’s not as though I mind taking care of you.”

Kuniyuki felt the blood rush to his cheeks, turning his face again to try and hide it though he’s sure Tsurumaru saw, and even through his anger at his own transparency his found himself wondering, what a human thing to do. He cleared his throat, collecting himself as he turned back, and tried to speak evenly.

“Well, treat me gently, okay?”

Tsurumaru hummed in response, non-committal and yet reassuring, and Kuniyuki felt the last of the wary tension he’d been carrying since Tsurumaru startled him slip away.

As he drifted off, he wondered if Tsurumaru would still be there when he woke - or would he fly away, like his namesake, and slip from Kuniyuki’s grasp?

His brow furrowed slightly, and Tsurumaru’s fingers stilled.

“Let it be a surprise.” Tsurumaru whispered, and Kuniyuki sighed, shifting so that more of him sprawled over Tsurumaru’s lap. If Tsurumaru tried to leave, he hoped it would wake him - and that he could try and catch him before he slipped away.

#touken ranbu #tkrb #akashi kuniyuki #tsurumaru kuninaga #strife writes

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pigeontheoneandonly · 5 years ago

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@rackofages and @natsora, I blame you for this. Featuring Jane Shepard from my fic "Never Marry a Soldier". Just a little bit of post-war (mostly) fluff.

Jane and Sam sat on their stoop, watching Chance run around the small terrace with the slowly greening Presidium spread out far below. They’d sold the demolished ruin of Anderson’s apartment several months ago, not long before their wedding, and though Sam still missed the hot tub she had to admit this suited them better. The old place felt cavernous and uncomfortably masculine in all its harsh square lines. She reckoned they’d had enough harshness for two lifetimes.

Chance came trotting up, blonde tail wagging, and Jane gently pried the ball from his mouth and tossed it off into the garden, the dog bounding after. “I got a postcard from John today.”

That left her blinking. “A real postcard? With a stamp and everything?”

“He’s in Tahiti. I think he wanted to rub it in my face.” Jane’s brother might be only twenty minutes younger, but he made that difference stretch for miles in his embrace of the little sibling role, brattiness included. “He also had a bit of news.”

Sam watched Jane pick up her leg and a screwdriver, and resume tinkering. After the better part of a year, it was no longer strange, the sight of it sitting across her lap as familiar as her muttered curses when it wouldn’t cooperate. “What’s he done now?”

She let out a chuckle. “He took Miranda with him.”

“Oh, my god.” Sam couldn’t hold in a laugh herself. “Well, it’s not surprising, seeing how he had his eyes glued to her for our entire reception. Including his toast.”

“I guess I thought Miranda had better taste.” But she said it with a grin. “Auntie Shawn would have a field day.”

Sam glanced at her sidelong, but she kept on tightening up the knee joint as if this were the most casual conversation in the world. That was a good sign. “From what you’ve told me about her, I can’t imagine she would have made much of Miranda. Too posh.”

“John’s exactly like that, though. Snobby.” Jane shook her head. “Hilarious, because he looks exactly like Shawn, but his personality’s all papa’s. No doubt whose sperm made him.”

She bit her lip. Cautious. “How is your dad these days?”

She shrugged. A little less casual there, though she hid it well. “He still misses papa. And Shawn. But he doesn’t talk about wishing he’d been on Arcturus with them anymore, so that’s something.”

Jane never said it aloud, but someone a lot less smart than Sam could tell she’d thought it, probably more than once. Hackett hadn’t known, or at least, Sam had to believe so. She’d been in the comm room while they spoke, messing with the cabling, and just happened to look up as Hackett asked her to investigate the station wreckage. The air went out of Jane like a punch to the gut. Sam froze, torn about whether she ought to leave in the storm of frantic questioning that followed, until the call cut out and Jane slid to the floor with her face in her hands. At that point, the only human thing to do was sit down beside her, and help however she could.

At that point, she thought she’d lost all of them, her fathers, Shawn, her brother. Sam knew too damn well what that was like. Her own family had fled into the wilds of Horizon when Cerberus came, and she’d heard nothing at all until after the war ended.

Maybe it had finally been long enough. “Does it bother you at all? That our children won’t have an Auntie Shawn?”

Jane actually looked up, all bemusement. “Not in the slightest.”

“She was so involved in your life.” Sam sucked in a breath. “I always assumed, if I had children one day, we would use an anonymous donor. I never counted on being so well-off that I could afford a genemod embryo.”

“Well, I’m open to anything, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Shepard shrugged. “But I don’t know that we’re close enough to any of our male friends to ask that. The three of them were best friends since college, close as family. It was a unique situation.”

Sam frowned, pensive. Jane touched her shoulder. “She wasn’t my mother, Sam. I loved her dearly, but I had two parents.”

“No.” Sam was startled. “It’s not that at all. I just can’t believe we’re sitting here talking about this. I mean, I hoped, during the war, but I never thought we would really…”

She trailed off, her hand going to her mouth. Jane drew her head to her lips, and kissed her hair, her arm settling around her waist. “That’s over. It’s not going to be like that ever again.”

The familiar solidity of Jane pressed to her side had its usual effect. She’d needed it more than she cared to admit, lately. Sam thought she was done with all that once the war ended, once Jane was out of the hospital, but for the past month it seemed to all come pouring out. Jane said it was the first truly stress-free month she’d had in over a year, and that this was normal, her mind and body using the oasis of safety to deal with the things they had put off.

Sam supposed she’d know, but she didn’t have to like it. So she straightened and swiped at her eyes, reaching for the prosthetic. “Give that here. You’re stripping the screws.”

“You know I’m hopeless with anything mechanical.” She handed it over with a laugh. “It’s why I stuck to physics in school. Engineering requires finesse.”

Sam’s eyes slid to her, the edge of sarcasm a little more like herself. “Not that it’s ever stopped you from putting your fingers in my projects.”

Jane draped her hands over her knees and grinned. “Large tangles of wire are just too tempting.”

“You’re as bad as the dog.”

Right on cue, Chance perked up and came running back, tongue lolling. Jane rubbed his head. “You’re the most helpful good boy, aren’t you?”

He yipped in response. Sam sighed. “I know if he gets into my workroom again, he’s sleeping in the garden tonight.” Then she handed the leg back, adjustments complete. “Here. Let’s go make dinner.”

Jane scrunched up her pant leg and began fitting it back into place. “Were those oranges I saw on the counter?”

“I had to sell a small piece of my soul, but yes. First delivery from Earth to the Citadel in weeks.” Sam helped her to her feet, and they went back inside, the dog running excited circles around their feet.

#mass effect #post-me3 #jane shepard #samantha traynor #shaynor #lord y'all i cannot believe i'm writing a dog story #domestic fluff #fanfiction #pigeon writes

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autodiscothings · 6 years ago

Note

The hollow heart outline that I can’t replicate on my phone for Kolyat and Oriana.

Ship Asks:

Anon, @ferociousqueak and @kxnways: putting everything you’ve asked in one post to keep it tidy, since it’s all about Kol and Ori and their dynamic.

(Some answers are NSFW, just a heads up.)

♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? Secretly?

Neither, to be honest- their romance seems very understated and even incompatible on the outside, but there is a strong devotion there.

I remember I filled in their ‘love language’ quiz awhile back, and it still applies. Oriana’s is Acts of Service, which sounds terribly demanding but boils down to: “actions speak louder than words.”

She might have told him she loved him first, but Ori already knew Kolyat’s feelings. He expressed them in his own quiet way: folding her clothes, making dinner, tucking her hair back, picking up the juice she likes without prompting, helping her with her Gala prep, etc. Small things done often without being asked.

Kolyat is Quality Time: his romance and love is a secret, precious thing he is reluctant to share with the rest of the universe. He wants dedicated time with Ori without distractions; just her and him (and the cat) safe in the quiet space of his apartment.

It’s why I paint them a lot in it, really. Writing them talking is annoying interesting as the truth only comes out when the pair of them are alone and away from the view of others, but there’s only so much pillowtalk I can write…

2. Who’s the one to send the other “I love my gf/bf” memes

Neither! Ori sends the 2190s equivalent of bored Snapchat selfies, which she has to send by email as Kolyat refuses to have the app installed on his omni-tool.

I painted this with that in mind:

Kolyat will sometimes open them at work, if he has time.

7. Is their friends/family supportive

Eventually for both. Miranda is perplexed why an asocial C-Sec detective whose dad (“a strange man”) she worked with does it for her sister, but once she understands they’re quietly devoted to each other, is happy for them. I still think she checked into Kol’s history though, read all his files and reports. She’s a good info-broker!

Kolyat hardly speaks to his aunts and uncles back on Kahje, but they knew he would end up with an alien. “At least it isn’t an asari” was the slightly racist answer when he eventually explains his choice of life partner.

Introducing Oriana to the C-Sec squad is something I’ve yet to write but happens in Sirens & Selkies, and goes about as well as expected when you’re introducing your girlfriend to Bats T’Lori…

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

WIP relevant, I’ve written a few scenes of this. Ori’s panic attacks are restrictive to her, and she doesn’t want to be touched:

She flinched just enough for me to get the hint and leave her alone. All I could see was her profile when I moved away, a strange blossom of red across the dip of her throat where her frill would start if she was drell.

I didn’t know if it was a souvenir from our previous good night, or the result of the rising sea of her anxiety. “It’s noise from construction,” I said, unsure what to do. “Controlled explosions.”

She was staring at nothing again, but there was only so much I could do. Fish was still missing; I checked under the bed. the only spot I could think of. A pitiful yowl came from the darkness, to my relief.

Ori needs a private space to deal with it before she can face him, the bathroom is a favourite, In turn she is the: “I will help find an answer” practical sort of comfort when he is dealing with things, and will give a list of solutions.

She’s a listener and very empathetic of course, but there’s a sense she has try to help fix something- this can chafe, as Kolyat can be stubborn.

9. Which one dissociates

Kolyat, for obvious memory recollection reasons, and he’ll get a gentle chin poke if she wants his attention. Ori knows when he’s lost in them now, but sometimes she gets it wrong. He could be thinking about the burrito vending machine and she’ll still ask if he’s okay; Kolyat can look pensive even when he’s content.

10. Which one stares at the other’s booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them

Kolyat, but I write through his eyes- but Ori can be forward too. Again, WIP relevant:

We were past the point of no return, but I still tried to sooth over the cracks. “A priest can look at the sea, you know. Sometimes I look twice to remember.”

The idiom confused her, a rarity. “You’re not as subtle as you think with that. I catch you staring at odd things, but I suppose you would.”

Ori tugged at her shirt to reveal a shoulder, a bare collarbone on show. She did it to make a point, but like I fool I proved it for her. “Maybe I want you to notice that I am looking,” I said, reaching for her. “Have you thought of that?”

She draped her hands over my neck, a loose grip. “But you still wait for me to make the first move,” she said, leaning closer to me. “You always do.”

I wondered if there was some truth to it, if I had fallen into an old tradition, at least for a drell. Her hands wandered down to the edge of my undersuit, fingers skirting the opening of my zipper; a woman is forward, a man waits. They were gender roles that had existed for centuries, and it annoyed me I played at them still.

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them

Ori is the cheerful morning person! Kolyat can and will get up at ass o’clock for work, but on his days off you best believe he’s shoving the pillow over his face and cursing the Gods and what is wrong with you, it’s 6am-

21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings?

As their writer I have several, but they don’t have one- yet. Ori will remember, though. She’s a ‘soundtrack to your life’ kind of person; the sounds of Shin Akiba’s amusement arcade will remind her of their first date, the song they danced to at the C-Sec ball, etc.

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Answered in 8, Ori’s anxiety is pretty bad. When I started writing them I didn’t realise just how rough she had it- Sanctuary was awful, and she was kidnapped and held there against her will for months.

Kolyat of course has his own PTSD from the war and his childhood, but despite his own issues, is oddly better at handling them- at least now, young Kolyat not so much.

The memories come, he lets them pass, then sends them on their way. The problem comes when he doesn’t do anything about them and broods (of course he broods.) Usually he’ll allow himself a Gods damn curse/woe is me, then move on to the task at hand. (Solving a case!)

Their coping mechanisms aren’t that healthy (“let’s throw ourselves at work!”) just yet, but they both agree the past does not define them- eyes forward, never back.

35. What be they kinks and do they try each other’s kinks

NSFW time! I think xenophilia is top of their kink list, but I’m so sorry, they’re very vanilla despite the alien difference.

They fuck on the regular to the point I consider using the water spray to calm them down when I put them in a room together, but it all never go past the “silk tie” stage.

Their actual kinks are:

He likes her in skirts and dresses that show of her collarbone/neck and legs, and likes it when she leaves her heels on; makes it easy for standing sex.

He likes to see her get off, and is very diligent about it before she even can return the favour. Kol will brood if she’s just along for the ride and can’t get off, a classy reaction.

She has a thing about sex outside their bedroom, and gets very handsy when drunk if she thinks no one is looking. Kolyat has to straddle the line of knowing what the Citadel public indecency laws are and thinking with his dick.

Speaking of, Kol loves head. When I write him he can be fucking blatant with this, it annoys me.

There’s a reason he’s a mess, it’s Ori’s ego. She got it into her head he was deprived of something, that drell (thanks to their throat muscles and vocal cords) were “better” than humans at the act, so she wanted to prove she was good at it too. I’ve yet to write it as that, mainly because they’re idiots who need the water spray.

Ori’s in charge of the bedroom. Their sexual dynamic usually has her define the: when, where and how. Not in the BDSM sense, but in the “I want to get off on top” sense. He in turn loves her enthusiasm and desire, all that attention on him.

They’re fucking awful at sexy space Skype, especially when Ori is working on a colony. Emails and calls without visuals are oddly better for her- she has gotten off with him recalling specific memories, for example. He appreciates the sexy selfies, and being told in very explicit terms that she wants him.

Ori goes through a stage of wanting to try things, some gets immediately vetoed by Kol. No to the handcuffs, he doesn’t want a work item associated with sex; okay fine we can try butt stuff for you, not me; I am not wearing that, Ori why-

42. How would one react if the other was to die

Tonal whiplash compared to the last question, holy shit. They grieve a long time, but I know Ori moves on eventually and remarries after his death. Kolyat takes longer to cope if she goes first, but is thankful for his children (and eventual grandchildren) to help shoulder the burden.

43. Who dies first

Kolyat, heart attack in his 90s. He dies in his garden surrounded by his cats, on the colony of their “summer” home.

44. Do they want kids

Eventually, but nowhere near the stage I’m currently writing them at. Their 20s is largely them working things out before they inflict their versions of parenting on to children.

45. How would they spend their last moments together

They would go out fighting, and try to be side by side if the Reapers returned. I am not sure what their last conversation would be, other than a frenzied comfort.

Phew, at the end! Questions taken from two places:

Send A Ship And A Heart And I’ll Tell You…

not Basic Ship Ask Games

Thank you very much for your questions.

#asks and prompts #kolyat krios #oriana lawson #shretl #kxnways #anonymous #ferocioussqueak #this took a long time to answer #aaaaaaa

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hanalwayssolo · 6 years ago

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Somewhere Between The Music and Lyrics: Ch. 2 - End

A/N: Songs featured for this last half are: Jordan Rakei’s Eye to Eye, Justin Timberlake’s Say Something, Tori Kelly’s I Was Made For Loving You.

Tagging pals! @blindedstarlight @raspberryandechinacea @gowithme @valkyrieofardyn @emmydots @hanatsuki89 @noboomoon @lazarustrashpit @animakupo @mp938368 @boo-dangy @bleucommelhiver

The primly cultivated front garden and the violet bougainvillea that crept up the walls of the house before you looks nothing like a recording studio. At least, that’s what you have assumed from all the films you’ve watched, anyway. You reread the address on your phone: 1130 Citadel Road. As far as your adequate knowledge of Downtown Insomnia is concerned—plus the guidance of Moogle Maps—you’re certainly in the right street. The numbers 1130 plastered by the metal railing clearly says you’re in the right lot, too. The only thing keeping you now from ringing the doorbell is the anxiety churning in your stomach like a raging sea. Overhead, a security camera is watching your every awkward move.

Maybe it’s not yet too late to turn back, you think.

And as soon as the thought leaves you, you hear the sound of your own voice belting out from a passing car, its windows rolled down and its speakers all the way up for the entire neighbourhood to hear.

Your fingers tighten around your phone. This is the fourth time you’ve heard yourself on someone else’s radio, and it is bloody jarring to say the least.

A part of you is still reeling in from everything that has happened ever since that video got out. Who would’ve thought that the band you admired from the comfort of your earphones would suddenly appear right outside your doorstep? And have you lost your mind that you agreed to collaborate on a song with a band as popular as The Lost Boys? You still wonder how on earth they can consider someone like you after one fucking cover when, in fact, you have no formal training in music in the first place. Besides, you have already been perfectly honest with them—with Prompto, most especially, since he had been the one most eager to know more about you—regarding your background and what you do for a living. Which, frankly, had been a tricky discussion since you’re not that fond of talking about yourself without the hint of self-deprecation. But you did manage. As succinctly as you could, you told the boys that you’re simply a bumbling corporate slave by day and a struggling songwriter by night, with hopes of consistently paying your share on rent and amenities with your pesky Internet-famous friends.

Maybe this is all a mistake, you think this time.

You glance at your phone again to check the time. Or rather, you’re hoping to see a message that they have cancelled the deal. But there’s nothing on your lock screen from any of The Lost Boys except the time that beams four-thirty p.m., a couple of unopened messages from Nyx (“u go blow their minds away but call me as soon as they fuck shit up” the initial sentence says, then followed by three eggplant emojis), Libertus (“drop by @ ostium’s tonight & we’ll celebrate!”) and a missed call from Pelna. Even with your friends’ show of support, you feel like you’re still dreaming. But what if this is really just a dream? What if right now, you’re actually still—

A low voice sneaks up behind you. “Can I help you?”

Startled out of your wits, you turn around and you find a tall man in a gray coat, eyeing you with great concern. He’s carrying a bag of groceries on one arm and a handful of books on the other. There’s something awfully familiar about his stern face, his silver-shaved head and magnetic blue eyes, that you cannot quite put a finger on it yet.

“I, uh—” you hesitate for a moment, scratching your cheek— “I don’t know if I’m in the right place, but would you know if there’s a recording studio nearby?”

“You’re actually standing in front of one.” The man flashes you an amiable smile. Your cheeks begin to burn red. Then, he says, “Wait, are you here for Prompto and the boys? I heard they’re expecting someone coming over.”

You nod. “Well… yes.”

“Perfect.” He jerks his head towards the gate. “I was just about to head inside myself. Please, come in.”

The man ushers you along the gravelly path, up the staircase, and into the blue door. Inside, you are welcomed by the sight of a lovely foyer, its pristine white walls tastefully decorated with framed photos and vinyl albums. A sharp aroma of black coffee wafts through the air. It is impossibly cold.

As the man carefully unloads his things on the center table, he tells you, “They should be in the booth right now. Follow me.”

You trail behind the man down the narrow carpeted hallway. You look around and you see more framed records hanging on the wall. You recognize some of it, and it’s like taking a stroll along an impressive hall of legends: The Beatles, Jackson 5, Joy Division, Nirvana, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, and a few other names that you’re certain have made it in the Billboard charts. But you notice that most of the photos on a couple of shelves are that of the five-man band The Regalia, and you remember how your mother used to play their songs on the your old stereo, all because she could not get enough of Clarus’s vocals and...

The realization hits you like a speeding freight train.

“Holy fuck.”

The crispness of your words echoes throughout the corridor that the man turns around to look at you with a confused smile on his face. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry. I, um… you’re...” You sigh, trying to quell your utter disbelief. Gods, how could you have been so blind? “You’re… Clarus Amicitia.”

His smile turns into an amused grin. “I am, indeed. At your humble service.” He regards you with a brief nod. “And you’re the fellow with the lovely voice.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. Gods. Did the Clarus Amicitia—living legend of the Insomnian local music scene—just call your voice lovely?

This is too much for you to handle in one day.

“Uh, well, I—um, thank you. Sir.” You smile at him, but you lower your eyes on your shoes, realizing that your words of gratitude came out in a torment. If Clarus had noticed it, he was kind enough to pretend that he didn’t.

“No need to call me sir—Clarus is fine.” He smiles again right back at you. You’re quite certain that your mother would fucking flip if she finds out about this.

As Clarus leads you to the last door at the far end of the corridor, you can already hear an indistinct melody and the swell of the bass vibrating from the room.

“Here we are,” he says, opening the door. “After you.”

Entering the studio oddly feels like stepping into a different dimension. From the homely elegance of the hallways, the whole room is an air-conditioned sanctuary of hardwood floors and neatly-arranged equipment: massive speakers, rack systems, audio mixers and soundboards, and a bunch of other controls you can hardly name. A pair of acoustic guitars are tidily displayed beside a black couch. Here, strangely enough, the air is thicker with the scent of coffee.

And here, behind the glass panel and amidst all the polish is The Lost Boys, oozing a velvety riff and a soulful tune, steered by a flawless voice that belongs to none other than Prompto.

It’s the birth of a star Earlier than sunset It’s the galaxy’s water Flowing like a riverbed

You hold your breath, immediately drawn to Prompto’s honeyed melodies and the guilt of poetry in the lyrics. Of all the times you have listened to their music, you immediately notice how the rhythm departs from their signature sound. Then again, they have been known to take risks, may it be in their own songs or otherwise.

This, you realize, is their true magic. The minutes seem to have stopped ticking. Behind you, even Clarus has fallen silent.

Yes they shine bright like a million Let them bleed twice for a minute Pleasure to have met you You’re my star tonight—

The music stutters into a halt when Prompto’s gaze falls on you, his eyes meeting yours. A bright grin spreads all over his face, and he waves a hand at you, beckoning you to join them.

Clarus waves back at the boys, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Make yourself at home. Don’t be afraid to let me know if these grown ass men cause any trouble for you. My son, most especially,” he says cheekily. “And might I just say—“ he folds his arms over his chest, his voice now employing a pensive tone— “I’ve had the pleasure of listening to your rendition of Prompto’s song. All these years, and my ears have not failed me. I know a good singer when I hear one.”

A rush of heat rises to your cheeks. “You’re far too kind to me,” you say, unable to help the smile that tugs the corners of your mouth. You spare one look and nod at Clarus as he leaves, while you awkwardly make your way inside the booth.

As soon as you step inside, Prompto greets you with a warm hug.

“Glad you made it!” he says as he pulls away. You actively ignore how good his cologne smells, or whatever scent he is wearing. “I was starting to think you changed your mind.”

“No. Actually… well, I thought about not coming here,” you admit sheepishly. “I got really nervous.”

“Hey, don’t be!” Prompto says brightly in reassurance, looping an arm around you. Okay, he really does smell nice that you can actually forgive his lack of consideration for personal space.

“And you have nothing to be nervous about,” Noctis adds, fiddling with the strap of his bass guitar.

“Did my old man scare you on your way here?” Gladio asks from behind the drums.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” A lie, kind of. But Gladio looks like he’s buying it. To be fair, Clarus didn’t exactly scare you, though scare is synonymous to intimidate—because who wouldn’t be intimidated in the presence of Clarus fucking Amicitia? “Though he did say I should be careful of you,” you say truthfully.

Prompto and Noctis erupt in a gale of laughter. Even Ignis is amused. Gladio shakes his head and with an apologetic smile, he tells you, “Please don’t mind my dad. I promise, I’m completely harmless—”

“I think your father is less concerned with your inclination to violence and more on your inclination to romancing… well, anything that moves,” Ignis chides as he returns his electric guitar on a stand, taking a seat next to the speakers.

Prompto unloops his arm around you and rests it on your shoulder as he says, “Don’t worry about this monster—I got you." At that, you feel like your heart skipped a beat. You could only wish that you're not blushing like a fool. "Though best believe he’d flirt with a lamp post if you dress it right.”

Gladio quickly shoots Prompto a threatening glare, and then he smiles at you. “Please don’t believe them.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try, I guess?” You laugh, and they do, too. It’s bizarre how being around them reminds you of being around your circle of friends. You shift on your feet a little, hesitant to the comfort of their company. Then, turning to Prompto, you gingerly ask, “Um, by the way. Were you guys recording a new song earlier?”

“Oh, that?” Prompto gives you a sheepish smile. “Not really—we’re just experimenting on some of the lyrics I wrote.” His eyes widen. “Speaking of, not to put you on the spot but—” Prompto dashes to take a mic stand and sets in front of you— “I was thinking this might help you ease into… all of this.”

You glance at Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis, all three of them looking at you expectantly. You narrow your eyes at Prompto. “Are you… trying to make me sing?”

He tilts his head. “Um, yeah. What else?”

“Really? Like right now?”

“Yes, like right now.” Prompto is grinning at you. First, he smells nice and now he’s being painfully charming. “Name any song. We’d play it with you.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Any song? Seriously?”

“Yup.” Prompto laughs. “Why, you doubt we can’t play something mainstream like Rihanna? Or Queen Bey, even?”

“No, it’s not that—alright, then.” You chew on your bottom lip, and heave a long, shuddery sigh. Static rings from the microphone. You look around and out of the corner of your eye, you spot a spare guitar—in an instant you know it’s a Les Paul, gods bless your poor ass soul—sitting beside a Steinway piano. To Prompto, you say, “Can I borrow that guitar?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure.”

You take the blessed thing, equipping it as carefully as you can. You’re finding it hard to concentrate when all eyes are glued on you. Prompto, most especially. You draw a deep breath, and release your inhibitions in a loud exhale.

Then comes the crisp strum of your fingertips against the chords. The steady pace and pulse. You catch a glimpse of Prompto smiling at you, and that unmistakeable glint of recognition in his eyes. He knows the song. The rest of the boys know it, too. And as if by some form of telepathy, Gladio prepares the percussions. Ignis tunes his guitar, Noctis readies his bass. Prompto picks up another guitar to accompany you as you sing.

Everyone knows All about my direction And in my heart somewhere I wanna go there

It’s almost frightening how easily you slip into their dynamic, as if you have been a part of them for as long as can remember. You can feel yourself slowly relax, the nerves leaving your body and aptly replaced by the swelling notes. The cadence intensifies. It is when Prompto sings along with you that a jolt of electricity runs down your spine.

Everyone knows all about my transgressions Still in my heart somewhere There’s melody and harmony For you and me tonight

This, you realize, is a different kind of sorcery. His voice blends with yours so perfectly that you see Noctis and Gladio exchange wide-eyed glances. Prompto’s eyes locks on yours, and he flashes you that charming smile of his.

And all you can think to yourself is: Where have you been all my life?

Prompto knows that this was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. Still, he finds himself stealing away most of your days.

Not in a bad way, of course. After your first session with the band, he had insisted to accompany you home—quite a long walk, sure, but you said you were fond of walking and he wanted to spend more time with you—which somehow ended up with the both of you hanging out in your couch, exchanging playlists and punch lines and feasting on your Kenny Crow’s leftovers. Thankfully, your roommates didn’t seem to mind him being around the apartment, though he could not help but notice how they would purposely stay longer by the kitchen counter across the living room just to keep a watchful eye on you. Prompto found it equal parts endearing and frightening, but he really could not blame them. If he had someone like you, he would probably do the same thing.

Every second with you, he'd always find himself wanting another. So he treasures each day with you as it drifts onto the next, and all the nights that come along with it. With the limited time you spend with him in the studio writing and making music, he would make it a point to always walk you back to your place, if this is what it takes to be with you a little while longer. If he had to admit, apart from your insane talent, he adores your smile, and how it crinkles the corner of your eyes whenever you talk about your friends or any of your favourite things. He adores it even more when you do it on occasions he tells you a corny joke or two. He adores how your eyes brighten whenever your beautiful mind works its wonders into music. But he adores your laughter the most, how it's like a soothing melody he wants to listen to on repeat, so he tries to crack you up with an abundance of his silliness just to hear that bubbling laugh.

But he has seen you at your worst, too. If he could, he would trade all of his good days just for you to overcome your bad days. He’d write all the songs for you until his hands bleed, if need be.

Such a constellation are you to him. Who would have thought that his own song would lead him straight to you? But still, Prompto wishes he had the courage to say all these things. But as his adoration for you blossoms into something else, he lets his feelings known the only way he knows how: by letting the words leak into the page, letting it dry into a song.

Even though we may be hopeless hearts Just passing through Every bone screaming I don’t know what we should do All I know is, darling, I was made for loving you

You are startled to find Prompto alone in the studio, tuning his guitar.

“Where are the others?” you ask, as if by way of greeting. You drop your things by the couch, taking a seat beside him.

“Um, they’re—they went out to buy some food! Or something,” Prompto says nervously. He avoids your eyes. Weirdly, his nervousness is making you nervous, too. “I, uh—” he takes a piece of paper from his jacket and hands it to you— “I wrote down a couple of lines to complete the chorus. You wanna give it another go?”

You unfold the piece of paper and read the lyrics.

Shit. It’s beautiful. It’s too beautiful that you cannot help but wonder to whom he wrote it for. In the weeks you have known him, you’re aware that he isn’t exactly seeing anyone. The thought of the song has been written for another person makes your heart wince.

“Wow, this is… really good, Prom,” you say as evenly as you can. “I guess whoever’s on your mind when you wrote this must be a lucky person.”

Prompto looks up at you. “Well, yeah. But I think I’m luckier ‘cause I have them by my side right now.”

A strange silence settles between the two of you. The only sound you can hear is your own heart racing in what seems to be a hundred miles per hour. You want to say something, but the words are locked somewhere down your throat.

Prompto sighs. “Look, I’d totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just want you to know what I feel—”

“Actually, I do feel the same way,” you say. You bite your lip to stop the smile trying to escape your lips, only to fail miserably.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Are you serious—”

“Prom, if you don’t stop talking and if you don’t start kissing me right now, I’ll hate you forever.”

In that moment, he crosses the space between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands. This time, the silence sings. Its music dances at the beat of your own heart. Prompto takes his sweet time as he presses a kiss on your forehead, traveling down to the tip of your nose, and slowly but surely, his lips finally finding yours.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #fanfic #ffxv #prompto argentum #older!prompto argentum #prompto x reader #older!prompto x reader #my writing #y'all bet the search engine in insomnia is called moogle

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violsva · 4 years ago

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Andromache’s Background

Okay, so I have two Old Guard ficlets up on AO3 now. And thinking about another one is making me wonder about Andromache's past, so here is some wild timeline speculation.

While individual cultures moved around and changed, basically the Eurasian steppe (where Scythia is) was pretty consistently inhabited by various nomadic pastoralists from the domestication of the horse (c. 3500 BCE) until about ... now. They're still there. So she could very easily have spent thousands of years just riding horses and fighting and drinking koumiss. And honestly I bet Andy spends a lot of time wishing she'd never left.

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#the old guard #andromache of scythia #andromache the scythian #quynh #lykon #meta #history #my fic #anicent greek #amazons #this is what i do for fun #i miss my pensive citadels

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years ago

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Hello! I'd like to submit a prompt where Jon and Sansa have just found out about Jon's parentage, that his mother was Lyanna and that she loved him. Jon is wrecked by this and Sansa goes to comfort him. She apologizes for her mother and for how she herself treated him, that he should've been loved. That she will love him now. She holds him and he lets her and he cries out his grief. Thank you!!

Ahhh Anon, the feels with this one! I have a soft spot for sad Jon as we get a lot of that in the books and it breaks my heart honestly sometimes reading his narrative. But this… sigh, made me tear a bit… argghh Anon what you doing to me?? The feels are strong with this one, be warned I suppose LOL

Hope this is to your liking, Anon. Slight S7 spoiler alert!

Thank you for the prompt and sorry for the huge delay (and for the lengthy fill)!

Unbeta’d so, pardon any mistakes oops

~ Mod Elle xxx

Mood inspired by : Make You Feel My Love by Adele

Rating: G. Canon-divergent. TW: abandonment

She Loved You (As I Will)

“Jon?”

Sansa barred the door firmly behind her and turned to see Jon seated and staring into the crackling fire, pensive and deep in thought. She hadn’t seen him since morning or yesterday evening and the past few days before that. In fact, she hadn’t seen much of him lately ever since his return from King’s Landing.

There was no answer from him except a slight nod in her general direction. There was something markedly different about him lately; something in him had changed and it made him melancholy. Well, more than the usual brooding, I suppose.

Sansa almost tiptoed towards him and the sight of a tray of untouched food and an empty cask of ale caught her eye. Slouching as he sat before her, Jon showed a gaunt figure and it tugged at her heart. Here she was scurrying about storing food reserves by the wagon loads for the North to prepare for the long winter to come and yet the King in the North refused to eat.

“Jon? You missed the meeting with the Northern lords today. I thought I’d come by and talk to you about it.”

Sansa found a chair to sit near him as she waited for a response. Jon sighed as he glanced down and turned his attention briefly to her. It was a first time that Sansa saw his dark grey eyes appear bloodshot, tired and teary. Something was wrong, she knew it. Silence hung in the air between them and Sansa didn’t feel it was proper to prod further.

“What do they want now?” came the gruff reply and suddenly, Sansa wasn’t interested to tell him about the meeting with the lords. Jon had been crying. She knew that look well. It had been the first thing she looked at every morning, in the mirror, whilst sitting in her bed chambers in the Red Keep, ever since the news came of Robb and her mother, Lady Catelyn, butchered at the Red Wedding.

“Jon, what’s wrong? Tell me, Jon.”

Jon gave a small sad smile, turning away from her again and stared back at the fire. She was accustomed to his brooding demeanour but there was something at the tip of his tongue, Sansa could sense it.

“Jon, what happened at King’s Landing? Did they hurt you?”

Jon gave a slight chuckle at her question and it unnerved her. Enough of this.

“What did they do to you?” Sansa demanded albeit gently as her hand grabbed his, forcing Jon to look her way.

“No… Not at all. Nothing I could not take. I’ve had worse. King Tyrion was kind to me.”

“Then what is it? Jon I wish you would tell me what happened. Please, Jon, try for me.”

Jon’s smile died as he recalled how the scroll was handed to him, that night when he was preparing for return to Winterfell. By Sam himself, no less, who had come all the way from the Citadel just to see him. Jon could never forget how happy he was to see good ol’ Sam and Gilly with Little Sam, now grown into a sprightly boy of four.

“I met my friend, Sam. The one I told you about, a brother from the Night’s Watch. He’s becoming a Maester now and he heard about my visit to Tyrion Lannister at King’s Landing.”

“And? What did he do, Jon? What did he say?”

Jon could only smile at Sansa as he recounted the fateful meeting, struggling and fighting from bursting in tears. How he wished such scrolls and records didn’t exist, perhaps getting burnt in a great fire - how blissful it was not knowing what was ahead of him.

“Sansa, all my life I wanted to be a Stark. I loved Father very much, I loved all of you very much and all I wanted was to be a part of it. I even thought of your Mother who had been kind to me.”

“Jon, you are a Stark. You are. To me.”

“No.” Sansa pulled her hands away from him and came to rest on her lap as she glared at Jon. Wasn’t being a Stark what you have always wanted?

“I’m not a Stark.”

Sansa huffed indignantly and bit down her lip. “You are the chosen King by all the North. And they know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. Don’t you remember that?”

“Aye, they did but I never wanted it. Winterfell is yours and it had always been yours, Sansa. And now… I cannot be King in the North any longer.”

Sansa’s heart raced wildly as she tried to calm herself down. Don’t leave me again, Jon. Why do they always leave?

“You have a duty to your people! They chose you because they know you care! You can’t leave them now! Not when winter is here. This is your home!” Sansa could not believe she was having this conversation again with Jon.

“Aye, this is my home. This will always be my home. The North is a part of me, you know that. I will die fighting for it. But the North can’t have a foreign born King,” Jon said quietly.

“Foreign born? You are the blood of Winterfell! You were raised here, like Robb and Rickon and Bran!”

“Sansa…. Winterfell will always be my home. But I am no Stark.”

“By whose authority? Sam the Maester?” Sansa scoffed at the ridiculous turn of their conversation. Jon kept silent and got up from his chair. There was truly no easy way to talk about it. Sansa seized his wrist, pulling him to return to his seat. Jon sighed as his eyes met with hers. It did not escape him, how Sansa had grown into such a fine beauty; with her striking fiery locks and eyes so blue that no seas in Westeros could rival.

Jon had found a kind and compassionate confidante in her, he admired her wisdom and her gentle lady courtesies with the Lords and Ladies. She would be a better ruler than him, as he discovered that more and more each day. Lady Sansa Stark had become well-loved and respected among her people when they learned, while in his absence, how she loved and cared for every beating heart that beats for the North.

Jon treasured the moments they shared, feeling proud and a somewhat unsettling fondness had grown in his heart for her. Whatever he felt, did not matter now, however.

“That scroll that Sam handed to me, decreed that I am no Stark…. Well, at least my mother.. was.”

Sansa frowned as she tried to grasp what Jon was telling her. A Stark lady.. Jon’s mother?

“I don’t quite understand. What are you trying to tell me, Jon?”

Jon blinked at her and paused as he chose his words carefully.

“Sansa, I’m not a Stark because my father is not Ned Stark. I am not his son. I was born in Dorne to Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Jon waited as he watched Sansa come to terms with the newfound knowledge. He remembered feeling the same way when Sam told him what he knew.

“That makes you the heir to the Throne,” Sam spoke, quiet as a mouse as they both sat in the solar Tyrion had prepared for him at the Keep. “Jon… Do you know what this means?”

He knew very well what it meant. And yet, he did not see any glory in it. Gods be good, why would anyone want to be King?

“I don’t want it. I never wanted any of this, Sam. The Great War is over, my duty here is done. I just want to go back home to Winterfell and wait for the day I die. Peacefully this time, I hope.”

Sam pursed his lips and Jon knew there was more he had to say. “What is it?”

“Well, if you think about it, Winterfell isn’t your home anymore no? I mean, by birthright. Your rightful home would be Dragonstone. You’re a Lord of a castle now.”

“I am no Lord of anything. I am a bastard and mind you, I’ve learnt that perhaps it is better off being one now. Winterfell is my home, not Dragonstone. I can’t stay there. Not after what happened.”

Sam nodded with a pout.

“I’m sorry she died, Jon She fought bravely with her dragons against the White Walkers. Maybe that’s the way of the gods. That she was not meant for the Throne. You are.”

“Lyanna Stark… Father’s sister… our aunt? She is your mother?”

Jon could only nod. What was there else to say? He was still grappling with this hidden truth kept from him for all his life.

“Aye. I’m not Jon Snow. I am Jaeharys Targaryen. At least that was what it said on the deed. I’m not a Stark.”

“But.. How would you know that? If that were true?”

“I trust Sam more than any other man in this world, Sansa. He would never lie to me.”

“But Aunt Lyanna died! She died far away from the North. She couldn’t be….” Sansa paused as she glanced at Jon. His features were very Stark like, there was close to none of the Targaryen qualities in him. She remembered her father once said how Arya reminded him of Aunt Lyanna and how Arya and Jon looked so much alike. Her hands flew to her mouth as she made sense of it all.

“She died giving birth to me, Sansa… My mother, Lyanna Stark died, because of me,” Jon’s head dropped low into his hands, his lips quivered as he mentioned his mother’s name.There was no stopping the tears and sobs. He finally knew who he was, who his mother was. She truly was highborn and beautiful, as he had often dreamed she would be. He was part Stark, there was no doubt ever in him that he was one. But being part Targaryen, was something he was not quite prepared for. And there he stood, the last Targaryen. It was a dreadful lonely feeling when the realisation struck him; Maester Aemon was right - it was terrible thing for a Targaryen to be all alone in this wretched world.

“Oh Jon!” Sansa came down from her chair and pulled him into her arms as she knelt before him. There was never a time in his life where his body was wracked with sobs and tears flowed freely; than where he was at that moment, in Sansa’s embrace - it was liberating and cleansing no matter how the tears stung, his throat ached and his heart raced.

It was as if he had gone back in time, when the memories flooded his mind of him growing up in Winterfell, envying the Stark kids with Father and their mother; how he cried his little heart out during those times he had to be shooed away like a beggar boy; how he was tasked to finish lowly chores in the stables and sleeping on the dirty hay as his little body grew tired, whenever noble guests came to visit.

He was shame in the flesh, a taint on the Stark name and on Ned Stark’s honour. He was ashamed of his existence and hated himself; there had been many times, he wished he could run away and oh, how he prayed to the gods to grant him a short life. He had never asked to be born, let alone be born a bastard. He was always ready for death to take him, wherever it would take him, Jon was certain, it would be far better than living as a known bastard.

“I didn’t want to live, Sansa. I never asked to be born a bastard… I did not ask to be treated like scum! I was just a boy who didn’t have a mother.. And now I know who she is.. I-”

“Hush now, Jon… I am so sorry for all the times I have been mean to you.. I truly am sorry! Forgive me?”

“We were children. There’s nothing to forgive, Sansa.”

“And my mother… Oh Jon, I know how she was to you! I hope you forgive her for anything she has ever said or done to you.. Oh dear gods, if only she knew who you really were, you’d be loved just as much as any of us. Oh Jon, I am truly sorry!” Sansa felt her own cheeks wet and warm from her own tears, her heart breaking at Jon’s show of grief. There was nothing he could say, Lady Catelyn had every right to despise him for the misery he brought to her perfect family - also his family too, now by blood.

“Sansa… I harbour no ill feelings towards her nor to anyone. I am done with that. I… I-I only wish I knew more about Lyanna. How I wish she was there to hold my hand or hold me when I cry… And I cried so many times, wishing she would save me from a bastard’s life. Sansa, I wished I knew her,”

Sansa could only imagine the pain and heartache that overcame Jon. She knew what losing a mother felt like but she also knew a mother’s love. She was luckier than most and she had lived through a happy childhood living in Winterfell, unconditionally loved and fussed over constantly. Sansa wiped away at her tear stained cheeks and released Jon from her arms.

“Jon.” Sansa whispered as her thumb lifted Jon’s chin for his downcast eyes to meet hers.

“She would love you. She would love you so much that she would fight for you, for you to stay alive and well. Perhaps, that’s what she made Father promise, to look after you and he did. She would love you, Jon. As much as my own mother loved me. I am sure Lyanna would love you like any mother would love a son, had she lived. And she still does. She’s still a part of you,” Sansa spoke softly as her hands cupped his face and wiped the tears that wet his cheeks.

“But I don’t belong here now. Aye, it’s my home and I have nothing but love for it. It just feels strange coming back as King now now that I know I wasn’t born here, like you were,” Jon squeezed gently, her hands that were cradling his face. He glanced quickly at the pink lips that were just mere inches away from his. They seemed so soft and inviting and Jon sighed at how his heart grew three times its size, delighting in the comfort that was Sansa’s arms and he only wished he could stay in them for as long as she would let him.

“No, Jon. No matter what anyone says, you belong right here.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #anon prompts #prompt fills #original content #hurt comfort #tw: abandonment

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lordofpinecrest-blog · 7 years ago

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SEASON 7 EPISODE 7 SEASON FINALE THE DRAGON AND THE WOLF

Sunday night’s Game of Thrones Season 7 finale did not disappoint. It was one of the best ever, especially the last ten minutes or so. Season 1 ended with the birth of Daenerys’ dragons. Season 7 ends with the “birth” of an “ice dragon” and maybe the conception of a Fire and Ice child. Plus the collapse of the Wall. It was an hour plus episode filled with family, honor, deception and intrigue. Is also included the long anticipated death of Littlefinger. I am going to do the recap purely on a location basis without regard to when the events occurred in the episode.

KING’S LANDING

The focus of the episode was in King’s Landing so it starts there as it is the epicenter of power in Westeros. I think one of the beauties of the scenes are all the reunions between characters, many of whom had been separated by time and distance.

We start with the return of Grey Worm and the Unsullied standing outside the gates of King’s Landing. Bronn is atop the wall where he is met by Jamie. Bronn is his usual self, full of jokes, as he says he still enjoys it when they call him “my lord” to which Jamie replies “the thrill will fade.” The Kingslayer has come so far in realizing what is important. And we have our first reference to family as Jamie says that is what soldiers fight for. Family will rule the episode. Bronn telling Jamie that Jamie’s brother sided with the Dragon Queen and her castrated army. Jamie replying sarcastically that the Imp always sided with the down trodden. As he says that, the Dothraki army arrives. As they do, Jamie looks out pensively past Euron’s fleet to see four ships arriving, as he knows his brother is one on the ships.

Out on the ships, we see Tyrion returning the same concerned stare and he goes beside Jon and Davos. Side note: While the Spider is there, he never speaks at all during the entire episode. Did anyone else find that unusual? Jon asks Tyrion how many people live in King’s Landing and the answer is over 1,000,000. While the answer is significant when Jon make his case to Cersei, there was more there. His response also shows the differences in the culture of the North and South, rural versus city. Union vs. Confederates? Ask Trump. From that comment, we go beneath the deck where the Hound makes sure the Wight is still kicking. The Wight reacts in a way that even frightens the Hound, and that says a lot.

Next we see Cersei, giving the Mountain her “Arya” kill list, in order. As she leaves to meet Danny’s ambassadors, she says “Come Ser Gregor, let’s go meet our guests.” I point this out because she doesn’t say it to her brother and Jamie’s facial expression shows his disappointment in her. I have to say, as a character, the writers have done a great job with the growth of Jamie from a brash young knight to a deep, feeling character. The thrill of being called “sir” has faded.

Our visitors are walking toward the place of the meeting, the Dragon Pit. Missandei asks why they built it. The Dragon Pit is referenced in the books and became responsible for the demise of the dragons. As Jorah tells it, the dragons became a problem in the city as they roamed free, killing live stock and children, so the Targaryens had the Dragon Pit built (back then it had a roof) and imprisoned the dragons. Without freedom, they shrank in size and died. Think back to when the Mother of Dragons had to chain two of her dragons for the same reason, they had killed a farmer’s child and livestock and could not be controlled. It always ties in.

As they walk, they are greeted by Bronn and we see that Brienne and Pod have already arrived. Loved the way the Dothraki soldiers looked at Bronn, wanting to cut his head off. And then we start to have the reunions. Tyrion and Pod. Tyrion and Bronn. Tyrion and the Hound. The Hound and Brienne, who have a short conversation that was marvelous. Brienne almost apologizing for trying to kill the Hound, explaining she was only trying to protect Arya. The Hound “me and you both,” which was an acknowledgment of his good side. When Brienne goes on to tell the Hound that Arya is alive and that the only ones who need protection are the ones who get in Arya’s way we actually see a smile on the Hound’s face and he chuckles. I believe it is the first time we actually have seen the Hound smile. Later the reunions continue with Brienne and Jamie and finally Tyrion and Cersei. Did I leave any out?

Into the Dragon Pit they go with the melancholy music in the background. The group looks worried and tense. Bronn says to Pod they should go for a drink while the fancy people talk. We didn’t see Bronn again: could he have switched sides? But somebody is missing: Daenerys.

Her Grace enters with the Mountain, Qyburn, Euron and Jamie. Brienne and Jamie make subtle eye contact which is followed by the not so subtle stares between Cersei and Tyrion and then Euron and Theon. So much tension in the air!!

As the Cersei group goes to sit down, we have the next stares and “reunion.” Sandor Glegane and Gregor Clegane. The Hound approaches and the Mountain goes out to “greet” him and after a few lines, Sandor says “You know who is coming for you. You’ve always known.” How creepy were the Mountain’s eyes? Red, dead and no blinking. Looks like we will get a Clegane Bowl next year!!

A very agitated Cersei wants to know where Daenerys is and the tensions keep rising. Then we hear dragons screeching and Danny makes an Academy Awards red carpet entrance. She lands Drogon in on the outside of the Dragon Pit as Euron looks on in amazement, and Cersei in worry. Remember, neither one has ever seen a live dragon. Drogon being there is important. Go back several seasons to The Mother of Dragons’ vision in the House of the Undead. In that vision, we saw the shadow of a dragon flying over a “healthy” King’s Landing and this confirms that part of the vision. More on this later.

Euron tries to bate our dignitaries, and when Tyrion looks as if he might take the bait, he looks at Jamie who shakes his head not to do it. While other things are staged, Jamie’s repulsion for Euron is real. Jamie says Euron should sit down. Looked like Cersei agreed, but now we know it was an act.

Jon gives a speech like he gave to the Wildings at Hardome before they decided to join in the fight against the Army of the Dead. We don’t like each other, never will, but we have to join forces. Cersei still thinks it is a joke and then she and Daenerys go after it-real hate there. Had to laugh when Cersei called Daenerys a would be usurper. Really?? The Imp has to intercede and then the Hound brings the crate out. The Hound methodically removes the bolts from the crate, and after hesitating out of obvious fear, he kicks open the crate to release the White.

Freeze frame!! Out comes the White, screeching as it rushes Cerise. Thirty or so seconds of great TV!! If the Hound had not held on to the chain, the White would have killed Her Grace and ended all our problems. And why didn’t the dead Mountain step in front of her? Just saying. The looks of pure fright on Cersei’s and Jamie’s faces were chilling. As Sandor pulls on the chain, Gregor and Jamie finally protect Cersei as the Hound proceeds to chop the White to demonstrate what it really is-undead. Qyburn, who was kicked out of the Citadel for experimenting on the dead, is naturally curious so he picks up the chopped off hand to examine. Was this a throw in or could it be important next year?

Cersei does look physically moved, but was she? Jamie is clearly worried about an Army of the Dead of at least 100,000 marching South. But then Euron says he is fleeing back to the Iron Islands, which we all should have known that was BS as he is no coward. But how did he know Whites could not swim and how had he already have hatched a plot with Cersei to sale his fleet to Eos to bring back the Golden Company? Still leaves the possibility that there is a spy in the Dragon Queen’s ranks.

Much to everyone’s relief, Cersei seems to realize the gravity of the True War, but she adds the condition that Jon, as King of the North, must pledge to stay in the North and not fight the Lannisters. She acknowledges that Ned Stark’s son would be true to his word. Even though he is not really Ned Stark’s son, Jon has his values. Jon cannot do as Cersei asks because he is true to his word and has pledged himself to Queen Daenerys. Deal off!! I thought Danny was going to let him off the hook, as she had said last week pride can lead to the deaths of so many. But she didn’t. Question: If Jon had said yes, what then?? How could Cersei have backed out? What was her back up plan? Any ideas?

As Jamie walks off in disgust, he lectures Brienne about loyalty to which she replies “Fuck Loyalty!” as it goes beyond Houses and honors and oaths. Go girl. Flashback–didn’t the Hound say that in an earlier episode? She implores him to talk to the Queen, but tell her what he asks? We know he did because he is worried and has a sense of what is right. Maybe she have give the speech to Jon!!

What transpires next is the start of some really good Tyrion acting. Why couldn’t Jon learn to lie, just a little bit? Tyrion marches off to see his sister alone, to try and convince her to change her mind. Loved the juxtaposition with the Mountain as the Imp strained to look up at him. Watching it again, I noticed the Mountain did not look down. I mention this because the only time the Mountain did look and react was with the Hound. Tyrion encounters Jamie, who says he talked “at” Cersei but tried and failed to change her mind. I liked the Imp’s line as to who the bigger idiot is and Jamie’s reply, “I guess we should say goodbye, one idiot to another.” Jamie has a look of real concern as he has always loved Tyrion. And you can also see Jamie’s disdain for the Mountain.

So in goes the little brother to have a heart to heart talk with his big sister like so many of us have had, well sort of. Cersei is also at the top of her game as she is sitting at Tywin’s desk and tries to belittle the Imp, even calls him a little man. Get it, belittle? Back and forth they go, like two prize fighters. Tyrion trying to reason, Cersei all venom. The Imp finally asks if Her Grace-- since she blames him for the deaths of her children and the downfall of their family, why not end it all and kill him right there? Not what I would have said to a person I had just described as the most murderous woman in the world. Cersei looks up at the Mountain, and Tyrion goes on baiting Cersei. “If it weren’t for me, you would have a mother. If it weren’t for me, you would have a father. If it weren’t for me, you would have two beautiful children...” He turns to the Mountain and in tears says “DO IT!” Her Grace sighs and looks away, she can’t seem to do it while looking at her brother. Tyrian needs a drink and then two. He goes on to explain why he backs the Mother of Dragons. The great conversation continues as Cersei says she doesn’t care about controlling her impulses or making the world a better place. She only wants to protect the family. Referring to the White, She says “I know what it is; I know what it means” and that the only thing that matters is protecting her family. And when Tyrion offers wine to Cersei, she declines and that is when the Imp realizes his sister is pregnant. Her Grace brings up Euron, which we now know she was lying about Euron. Again, how did she know about the Army of the Dead? A spy? Given the dialog, it worth re-watching. One more thing: Why didn’t Cersei kill Tyrion? Was it because Daenerys had her troops and dragons there and Her Grace knew she would lose? Some love for her brother? I say the first.

We are sent back to the Dragon Pit. Did you realize that what Jon picked up was a fossil from one of the last dragons? So small. Danny laments about how they enslaved the dragons and that when they grew small, her ancestors grew small. They were not extraordinary without the extraordinary dragons. I think she was being a bit unfair as some of the Targaryens were great leaders. Others, that relied on pure fear, were brittle and horrible. And when Jon gets close to the Mother of Dragons and says you are not like everyone else and your family hasn’t seen its end, I thought he was going to kiss her! Jon becomes the smart one when he debunks Danny’s thinking that she can’t have children by saying “did it occur to you that she may not have been a reliable source of information?” Fake news! You know something Jon Snow. We can see in the way she looked back at Jon, romance in the air.

At this time, Tyrion comes out alone, but is quickly followed by Cersei and her boys. Seems as if Her Grace has had a change of heart. She pledges that she will send her armies North to fight along side Danny and Jon in the Great War. Have to admit, Cersei was convincing as she fooled me! Did she fool you guys?

Next we see Jamie in the “map” room instructing his lords on the plans to march North, as he realizes time is of the essence. Did you notice it had starting to snow there? I think at the end of the last book, snow had started to fall in King’s Landing. Of course, Cersei is oblivious to the snow as Her Grace questions what Jamie is doing and insults him by saying “I always knew you were the stupidest Lannister” How unfair as certainly Lancel could take that crown. Cersei reveals what her plan was all along. Have the Dragon Queen and the King of the North slug it out. Hopefully they win with depleted forces. Meanwhile, Euron has sailed to Eos to bring back the Golden Company. But Jamie protests-he gave his word; that the war is not just about noble houses. Brienne really rubbed off on him. But Cersei calls it betrayal and treason. She echos Sansa’s words–she listened and learned and says “no one walks away from me.” Jamie is going to keep his pledge and march North, but the Mountain gets in his way. Jamie says “give the order then.” Cersei nods her head yes, but again, couldn’t pull the trigger. Her last line to her brother is “I told you nobody walks away from me.” But then Jamie does just that. And we see him ride off alone. Where is going? I presume North as he pledged. And he covered up his hand. It that because he now detests what gold stands for-the Lannisters and is he symbolically separating himself from Cersei? This time, I think it as was love that kept Cersei from killing Jamie.

WINTERFELL

It is now snowing harder as we see a raven flying to deliver a message. Sansa and Littlefinger with Sansa holding a scroll in Jon’s handwriting saying he pledged his loyalty to Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa is clearly not happy with this news and Baelish tries to take advantage of this. Jon can be unnamed as King in the North. But Sansa says Arya would never go for that and would kill anyone who betrayed her family. Littlefinger really should have listened to that warning. He tries to put a wedge between the Stark sisters. But what of his line “I never trust godly persons?” Hard to say what the authors think about religion. Baelish says “Sometimes when I try to understand a person’s motives, I play a little game. I assume the worst.” He pushes Sansa into saying that Arya would kill her-but why? To become Lady of Winterfell–something that Sansa knows her sister never wanted. At this point in time, is Sansa on to Littlefinger’s game? I think yes.

Later we see Sansa, outside in the snow, where she and Jon had stood. She commands that Arya be brought to the Great Hall. There were several tells here. Bran is in the Great Hall, and thinking back, it could only have been for one reason. Second tell, Arya arrives with both Needle and the Dagger. Sansa and Arya go at it a bit, but Sansa says she must do what honor demands, defend her family from those who would harm and betray them. At this point, we should all have known where it was going. Sansa announces the charges: murder and treason and then says the accused is Lord Baelish. To be sure, we knew this was coming, but it pulled off so well. Don’t you think Sansa pulled if so Cersei like? Arya is smiling but Littlefinger’s smirk is gone. When Baelish says he is confused, Sansa buries him with a great prosecutor questioning. Which charge confuses you? The murder of Lady Arryn? Treason against her family? Littlefinger tries to defend himself, saying none of them were there to see it. But Bran has seen Littlefinger’s dirty deeds and says Baelish put a knife to Ned’s throat and said “I did warn you not to trust me.” It was nice to see Baelish grovel on his knees and Sansa throws his words back on him. And we knew the commander of the Knight’s Vale, Yohn Royce, hated Littlefinger and wouldn’t support him. As he is crying and begging for his life, Arya slits his throat with the Dagger. He dies the same way Cat died.

In the end, it was very satisfying. I think most of us thought Littlefinger was going to die this season, and in the end, they pulled it off in fine style. I guess the question is when did Sansa realize the truth? Obviously, she met with Bran and Arya and Bran laid it all out. But without Bran, could she have pegged him? I think so. Slow learner, but a quick study! And as Ser Abraham said “He who lives by the Dagger, dies by the Dagger!” Did anybody mind that Sansa passed the death sentence (although she never said it) but Arya did the execution? I for one did not and thought it played out the way it should.

Next, Sam arrives back at Winterfell and tells Sam he is now the One Eyed Raven. Sam gives him the same look everyone else does-what the F– does that mean? Bran tries to explain and asks Sam why he came to Winterfell. Sam came to help Jon who Bran says is on his way back to Winterfell. Unexpected comedy when Sam asks if he saw that in a vision; nope a raven brought the message. Bran FINALLY tells somebody that Jon needs to know the truth about his parentage and he tells Sam who they are. A little banter on what Jon’s name would be as a bastard born in Dorne, but Sam tells Bran about the annulment. I guess he does listen to Gilly after all! Sam asks Bran if that is something he can see, and now we know Bran takes requests as Bran travels back in time to see Lyanna and Rhaegar’s wedding, which confirms that Jon has the rightful claim to the Iron Throne. And we learn that Jon’s real name is Aegon, who of course, was the fist Targaryen to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Just saying.

It took a long time to get there, but we finally did. How will Jon react to the news? Will he follow his own advise as he gave to Theon? Not make a choice between being a Targaryen and Stark? Of course he will.

DRAGONSTONE

The good guys are back at Dragonstone, planning strategy. Jorah advises for Danny to fly to Winterfell, but Jon thinks it would be better to sale together as allies. Good thing Daenerys followed Jon’s advice!! And we can see that she really does TRUST Jon. And I mean it this time! I won’t spend much time on the Jon/Theon meeting, except what Jon said near the end after Theon agonizes over having to make a choice of Greyjoy versus Stark. Jon says “You don’t need to choose. You’re a Greyjoy and you’re a Stark.” I think that will come into play when Jon learns he is a Stark and a Targaryen. And then Theon “mans” up, beats the crap out of another Iron Island sailor, earns back the respect of his men and sales off to rescue Yara. I put “mans” up in quotes as he wins the fight because he has no balls and thus the knees to his groin didn’t buckle him in pain.

It ends with a scene we all anticipated. Jon and Daenerys finally connect and making love. I predict a baby was conceived. Tyrion looked worried. Why? I will offer some thoughts below.

THE WALL OR WHAT IS LEFT OF IT

It is a cool scene the way it was filmed. The Army of the Dead, stopped before the Wall. They cannot go any further. Then the Night King swoops in riding Viserion. We don’t hear him say dracarys but Viserion breaths some sort of blue fire and down goes the wall in a great spectacle. And then the Army of the dead slowly marches south. It looked like an endless army. Did you happen to notice the weather behind them? So dark and full of snow. Frightening. I hope Tormund made it out alive. We have never heard the Night King talk, but I think he can. Agree? We weren’t sure if the Wall was going to come down. But for me, the way they did it made it okay. What about you guys?

Yesterday, I got some thoughtful questions from Princess Jacklyn which I really appreciated. Send more everyone! She asked:

Why did Tyrion look sad / upset at the end of the episode when John went to Dany's room on the boat?

One of two possibilities. First, he is in love with Daenerys. Seems as if all the guys are! Second, he may not be upset at them making love, but worried about them. Romance has not worked out very well in the Game of Thrones, and especially with the Great War to come. One far fetched one is that after learning that his sister is pregnant, he will switch sides to defend his family and he is torn by that. Remember Jon’s speech to Theon about balancing two sides.

Do you think Cersei is really pregnant?

At first I didn’t, but now I do. She didn’t drink the wine and I think we are headed to both her and Daenerys being pregnant.

Why didn't Jaime head north with Bronn? Do you think Cersei will have Bronn kill Jaime?

I actually thought of the first point. After the first scene, we didn’t see Bronn. Maybe he left with Pod and switched sides. I don’t think Cersei would trust Bronn to go after Jamie. Bronn would rat her out.

Do you think Tyrion believes his sister will actually send troops North?

I actually do, especially with Jamie pledging that he would. Shows how good she is-or bad!!

The battle of fire and ice will ultimately be between the ice dragon vs. the fire dragons. Which do you think is more powerful?

The real dragons are more powerful, they have minds and feelings of their own and are like real family which is so important. I am not sure if you noticed, but Viserion had wholes in his wings. Even though it has blue eyes, it is a White and they are very vulnerable. Plus if Bran can break the connection between the Night King and Viserion, it will die.

RECAP

Some of you have told me that this year’s episode were disappointing and that even the finale was a bit disappointing. Let me start with this episode. I thought it was a great way to end the season. Littlefinger-gone. The Wall-gone. Jamie leaving Cersei. Jon and Danny finally hooking up. The Starks on the same page. And finally, when Jon gets back he will know the truth of who he really is. But wait, looking at Jon, doesn’t he already know who he is?

The title “Dragon and Wolf” obviously has two meanings. Jon and the Dragon Queen. But Jon is not pure wolf, he is a mut. Who was pure wolf? Lyanna Stark of course. So it is also her and Rhaegar. But, and this is big but, only Jon is both fire and ice which is the real title to the books.

The season had a lot of predictable events, whether it was Danny and Jon hooking up, the Wall coming down and many others. But as we go into the final season, some food for thought. Some may be crazy, but what the hell.

Who is going to kill the Night King? Jon-who in many ways gave the Night King the power to bring down the Wall by needing to be rescued? He could pass the sentence and be the executioner. Arya is another logical choice. Could it be Jorah in his last dying act? What about the Kingslayer in his last heroic act to keep an oath? How will the Night King be killed? We know it has to be either Valerian steel or dragon glass or a combination of them. Could that be the Dagger? Will Qyburn, who is so obsessed with the dead, help or will he become a White before he dies? Maybe he becomes a good guy and helps Sam. Stranger things have happened. And could Gendry forge the weapon that brings the Night King down or have we seen the last of him?

Throughout the season and in the finale, we saw the importance of family, honor and loyalty, but not at the expense of humanity. This led to the revival of the Starks and the division of the Lannisters. We saw this in Jamie as he abandoned his sister. Will he be the one who kills her? We presume that the prophesy will be fulfilled and she will die at the hands of her younger brother.

I now believe that Cersei is pregnant. I also think that Daenerys will have a bun in the oven. Crazy thought: their kids marry and we actually get peace! Too crazy?

Why no Ghost? I missed him :(

Jon’s real name is Aegon. Interestingly, in the books, Aegon is the name of Rhaegar’s son by Ellia Martel. In the books, that Aegon was being groomed by the Spider and others to sit on the Iron Throne. Some thought he was a fake Aegon.

What did we think of the Spider this year? Could he be a spy? It was strange that he was silent the whole last episode. Something must be up.

Which characters evolved the most? Sansa? Arya? Jamie? The Hound?

Where was Bronn at the end? He was glad to see Tyrion before going off to have a drink with Pod. Cannot be a coincidence.

Prophecies. We need to separate fake news from real news. The witch Duur’s prophesy that Danny cannot have children-fake news. Witch Maggy’s prophesy about Cersei-real news. Then there is the Dragon Queen in the House of the Undead. She sees her dragon flying over King’s Landing-confirmed. But she also saw a destroyed King’s Landing. Wild thought: The Night King was a Stark, but not Bran. Instead of marching to Winterfell, he marches to King’s Landing and it gets destroyed. Too off the rails?

More fake news. The pictures on line of Bran and the Night King wearing the same sigil around their necks was photo shopped. Oh well!

How many of you noticed the holes in Viserion’s wings? He should be more vulnerable than the other dragons. Speaking of dragons, will they survive? Not sure but the Dragon Queen thinks she needs them to be an extraordinary leader, but Jon says no. I hate to say it, but I think all the dragons die next year. But wait-they leave eggs behind!!

It looks like we will see the Clegane Bowl everyone wanted to see this year. Ser Lane Abraham was uncertain what the Hound was referring to when he told the Mountain that the Mountain always knew who was coming for him. I thought it was clear–after the fire incident, Sandor was always coming for Gregor.

Who had the better lines? The Hound or Bronn? In a photo finish, I go with the Hound.

So who wins in the end? As Cersei said, you either win or die in the Game of Thrones. Let’s have some fun. Email us your predications for next year as to who will live and die and how it ends up. Start at fun dialog.

Wow, this was long. Ser Tadd Schwartz thinks I am obsessed with this. But he is a Gator so I take it as a compliment. I enjoy doing it. And while some of them are long, I hope all of my lords and ladies appreciate it as it does take a lot of time.

My watch is done for this year. It has been an honor! And honor matters on GoT. :)

Eric, the Lord of Pinecrest

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fortheloveofeos · 8 years ago

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Savior

Here’s another Prompto X reader fanfic for ya. This idea has been rattling around in my head for a while.

I’m going to work on some stories for the other Chocabro’s soon. Let me know who you want read first!

XXX

Thunder clanged loudly against the silent night as you leaned carefully back against the column behind you. If you weren’t careful, you would find yourself on the sidewalk twelve stories below - but you were never one to be careful. The feeling of the balmy night air on your flushed skin felt too good for you to go back inside. You had never actually intended to end up on the ledge of the balcony on the twelfth floor of the Citadel. But, damn, did the Crown City look beautiful lighting up the darkness on a rainy night.

You had no idea how long you had been there, watching the flashes of lightning and counting the seconds before the thunder boomed to life. The storm was fading across the plains now. You doubted the rain would last.

“-been calling your cell phone. What the hell?” You turned your attention back into the room you had been given within the palace to find your boyfriend’s sapphire eyes wide with worry. “[Y/N], please don’t fall!” He dropped the bag of takeout on to the expensive marble floor before rushing to your side.

Before he could reach you, you turned and gracefully made the drop onto the balcony so that both feet were now firmly on the ground. You couldn’t help but giggle as the worry faded from Prompto’s handsome features. “I wasn’t going to fall,” you assure him before being wrapped in his strong and comforting arms.

He squeezed you tighter in response. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered into your hair.

You couldn’t help feeling somewhat guilty for worrying him. Prompto definitely suffered from some abandonment issues - with good reason.”I’m sorry,” you promised him, your fingers tangling themselves into his golden locks. “I just - I miss being outside. I’m going crazy in here.”

Prompto pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before grabbing the bag of food from the floor. Luckily, the contents remained intact. “It’s been, what, three weeks?” He questioned as he moved around the kitchenette in your suite. He found a couple of forks, completely forgoing plates - neither of you would use them.

“And a half,” you groan before joining him on the couch. Your father was a member of the Kingsglaive serving king Regis. Relations with Neflheim were as tenuous as ever with no sign of relief. Until a few weeks ago, you had been living in an apartment in a neighboring city as you made your way through college. However, on a trip to the beach with a few friends (Prompto excluded), you and your friends were attacked by empirical forces. It was only thanks to the rigorous training both your father and Gladiolus had put you through that you and your friends had survived. Since then, your father and the king had agreed that it was best for you to return to Insomnia and the palace for safety reasons. Because your father had moved into the palace after you left for school, you had also been placed directly under the nose of every well-to-do in the city. You were tired of being stuck inside and despite the efforts of Noctis, Gladious, Ignis, and Prompto, you were miserable. Not even the online classes were enough to distract you.

The only good thing that had come from it all was that you were closer to Prompto. Rather than seeing one another on weekends of vacations, it was becoming a daily thing for the two of you. Unaware of your pensive gaze, Prompto chowed down on the pasta he had brought as he flipped through the movie channels. Unlike you, he had grown up outside the strain of a life tied to the crown. He enjoyed having another reason to waltz through the entry of the citadel. Plus you were close to Noctis, allowing him to spend even more time with his two favorite people. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He worried once he noticed you hadn’t touched your alfredo.

With a heavy sigh, you opened your contained and carefully began to indulge on the delicious meal your boyfriend had been kind enough to surprise you with. A gloved hand rested on your thigh in an attempt to comfort you – something only his touch seemed to be able to do.

Hours later and well up into the early morning, the two of you lay cuddled up together in the plush bed of your room. It smelled of lavender and fresh linens, not a bad smell but also not a homey one. Attempting to chase away the thought and fall asleep, you nuzzled yourself farther into Prompto’s chest. Instinctively, his arms tightened around you.

“You’re awake,” he mumbled into your hair. His voice was thick with sleep, the slight growl sending chills across your skin. “Sleep, [Y/N].” He pulled you even closer, completely enveloping you in his warmth.

Despite this, it wasn’t enough. “Prompto,” you whispered, a finger poking him square in the forehead. He pretended not to feel your pestering. You whispered his name once again, this time poking him twice. When he continued to play opossum, you decided to play dirty. With a giggle, you craned your neck so that you could have a clear shot at his jaw line before running your tongue along the freckled skin.

A shudder ripped through his lean body before an exasperated groan. “No fair,” he whined before finally opening his eyes and sending you a glare. “It’s late…or early. Whatever, just sleep,” he sighed.

“You know I can’t,” you said truthfully. You hadn’t slept well since the attack and sleeping in a strange bed only made it all the worse. Prompto had started staying most nights in an attempt to get you to rest. Clearly even that wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled and ducked your face.

Prompto’s now glove free fingers gently traced the side of your face. You caught sight of the barcode on his wrist, a slight shudder going through you as you thought of how things could have gone for him. You had seen those…things in action. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’ve got you,” he promised. You nodded, still not quite comfortable with your surroundings. Everything in the palace just felt cold. Realizing you weren’t going to come around, Prompto carefully detangled himself from you.

You watched him with uncertainty as he fumbled around for the pants he had been wearing when he arrived before changing into the sweats he always wore to bed. “Prom,” you whispered. Surely you hadn’t made him angry enough that he was going to leave you alone.

He offered a warm smile over his shoulder before finding whatever it was he was looking for. Gripping something tightly in his hand, he joined you once again on the bed. “I had planned to surprise you over breakfast in the morning – maybe have Iggy whip up something special.” He shook his head, bedhead flying in all directions. “But maybe now is better. Signaling for you to open your hands, he dropped a small metal object into your waiting palms.

“A key?”

A sheepish grin worked across his reddening face. “Y-yeah. To my apartment,” he whispered shakily. His fingers raked through his already messy hair. “I talked to your dad about how you felt. He really didn’t know you were so miserable, so I was able to talk him into letting you stay with me. Of course, you still can’t leave the city and you’ll have to continue your classes online bu –“

You threw your arms around your blushing boyfriend’s neck, silencing him with your lips. Your dad was a pretty intimidating man who could probably kill Prompto with his own finger, as the nervous blonde liked to joke. Yet, he had worked up the courage and persuaded him to let you stay with him. Outside the walls of the citadel. “You talked to my dad? For me?” Tears welled up in your eyes against your will.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged as if it he hadn’t just saved you. “I couldn’t stand seeing you like this. And I had to agree to train with him and Gladio every day. To prove I can protect you,” he sighed. His rough fingers played with the hair at the nape of your neck. His touch sent shivers through your body. “I can protect you,” he added looking into your eyes with determination.

“I know,” you promised, sealing your words with a kiss. “You always do.”

“Just think,” he chuckled, “You get to spend all your night wrapped up in bed with me from now on.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded to punctuate his intent.

Now it was your turn to blush. “Who says I won’t kick you out and claim the bed for myself?” You asked him.

He puffed his lower lip out in a pout. “You wouldn’t let me sleep in my own bed?”

“I don’t imagine there will be much sleeping for a while,” you giggled.

His light blue eyes darkened at your comment, his pupils dilating. “You can count on that,” he winked.

#prompto argentum #prompto x reader #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #final fantasy #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy fanfic #final fantasy fanfiction #sunshine boy #fortheloveofeos

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warriorqueenphoebe-blog · 8 years ago

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Major Quest 008 || Ayura & Phoebe

Who: Ayura and Phoebe Tagged: @tigrisia-paladin-of-many-trades What: badass babes doing parkour Word Count: 3000+ Warning: Odd spacing

Phoebe: “So the Baroness is trying to raise an army?” Knitting her brows, she looked over to the other woman, almost looking confused. “I don’t get it. Why would she do that? What’s her motive?” It seemed stupid to get caught up in details like this, but still she couldn’t help but wonder. She opened her map again, just to check if they were still going the right way. Westwards from the Citadel until they hit the shore. Find a boat. Sail over to the island. Fight their way through the fortress. She couldn’t hold back the sigh as she closed the map again. This was a suicide mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: “Probably just some more badguy business. ‘Oh, I have tons of power and I want to use it to take over the world!’” she flailed her arms playfully as she made the intentionally horrible impression, snickering a little afterward. “Like any movie, show, book, game, anime, you name it.” She was acting all happy-go-lucky, but truth be told she was more than a little skittish. She had missed out on some of the goings-on of the last couple of quests due to some flaky partners who vanished on her part way, and because of that she wasn’t only still at a measly level 12, but also hadn’t heard much about this Shadow Baroness business until she’d showed up at the Citadel of Sumilki just as the battle had been ending. It was a gruesome sight, and she wanted to help if she could.

Apparently this was the only way to do it.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that,” she sighed with an apologetic smile, drumming her fingers onto the hilt of the longsword at her waist in a familiar action. “Thanks for agreeing to be my quest partner, by the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: Phoebe laughed wholeheartedly at Ayura’s bad guy impression. “Well, maybe we’re lucky and she’ll give us a classic bad guy speech? You know, talking about her grand scheme, how we’ll never be able to defeat her and stuff like that instead of actually killing us, giving us just enough time to foil her master plan.” Keeping the mood light seemed nice. Stiff and almost forced, but nice. It was a good cover for the obvious tension in the air.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t think that there will be too many sailors merrily sailing over to the Fortress,” she said, knitting her brows as she gave the girl an almost confused look. “No problem. Honestly, I’m slowly getting used to this whole quest partner thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura waved her off. “Nah, it’s just frustrating sometimes, people say they’re going to be your partner, and then they vanish on you after awhile,” she sighed. “I’m just glad that we’re fairly like-minded, as far as our last conversation went.” She was referring to the conversation they had about not needing quest partners, but as far as Ayu was concerned, both of them had been resigned to the fact that the quests required partners. It was just going to be a fact they had to accept. It was part of the reason Ayura had sought Phoebe out in the first place.

The paladin chuckled. “No, I mean, we don’t have to worry much about the reason the Shadow Baroness is doing whatever she’s doing,” she clarified. She sighed as she crossed her arms, tilting her head wistfully. “It’s a shame the dragons the shop sells don’t grow large enough to be ridden. It would be so much easier just to fly there, you know? But, I agree. Hopefully this Baroness makes the same do-not-monologue mistake,” she quipped with a dainty grin.

“Well, let’s come and not dilly-dally, we heroes are off on an adventure to beat the badguy!” she chirped, laughing afterward at her own playful and intentionally flubbed references because of how cliche the whole thing was. Even though this was a videogame, did everything really have to be that classic?

She began walking westward, knowing that Phoebe would follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: She furrowed her brows again, furrowing slightly as she hummed understandingly. “Hmm, that really sounds like it sucks. Luckily my last quest partners were actually pretty cool.” She gave another small mile, trying to sound as encouraging as possible. “Doesn’t mean that I’m super happy about the whole party requirement though.” It would definitely take some more getting used to for her, but the last quest was definitely a step into the right direction. Still, talking too much about her first great experience seemed a little insensitive, so she decided to let the topic rest for now.

“It’d still be nice to know, don’t you think? I mean, with how massive this game is, I just can’t believe that they’d have a boss who’s evil just for the sake of being evil,” Phoebe shrugged. She always liked the bad guys in stories. But still the anti heroes always seemed so much more fascinating than the plot bunnies without motivation or goals.

Following the younger girl with wide steps, she quickly caught up to her. “I guess you’re right. The less time we waste, the better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura found herself pensive as they continued to walk. But it wasn’t the troubled pensiveness that she’d come to be familiar with over the past week. It was a more...fulfilled, satisfied thoughtfulness, content with making progress towards her goal once more, which was to win this game and get out of here. “Yeah, I get it. I actually hope she’ll be some interesting character. I’m sick of the same old.”

She did manage a grin, however. “Well, I guess we might get a chance to find out, one way or another.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: “Well, I’m not much of a gamer myself so I’m not really a pro when it comes to overused gaming stereotypes,” she said with a shrug. Movie tropes. That’s what she knew. Literature and plays and tv shows, all falling into that same category, picking up the same archetypes over and over again because in one way or another they all worked on the same level. Yet with how interactive games were, Phoebe doubted that it was the same case. “But from what I’ve gathered so far, this game doesn’t really seem to be something that you can consider the same old,” she concluded finally.

“Looks like we don’t really have a choice,” she agreed, a lot less happy about it than Ayura seemed to be. She walked in silence for a while, thoughts running through her head, trying to make a plan for whatever situation they were about to get themselves into. When they finally came close enough to the shore to see the port, she spoke up again. “Now that was the easy part,” she sighed, doubting that anything that was coming for them from here on out would be as close to a literal walk in the park as this. “I think I can get us onto one of those boats.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: “Well, it’s all up to you, my Charisma stats suck,” she chuckled, trailing behind her and watching what she would do. “I put most of my points into fighting-related stats, and being a witch doesn’t help my rep amongst NPC’s anyhow,” she hummed. She was really a happy-go-lucky sort of person, accepting the circumstances that she found herself in and merely choosing to work from there rather than complaining about it. “Let me know if I can do anything, but I’ll shut up for now so I won’t ruin anything.” She mimed zipping her lips with a childish grin and clasping her hands behind her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: Phoebe nodded with a grin, well confident. “Don’t you worry, I got this.” She quickly scanned over the the docks, smirking when she found her target. Her fingers fumbled with the top of her tunic for a second, exposing a bit more cleavage before she fluffed up her hair. “Just stay close, smile and let me do the talking.” With that she walked toward the captain, a sweet smile on her lips and just a little too much sway in her walk to consider it natural.

“Excuse me?”, she asked as she stepped up to the man, twisting a lock of black hair around her finger. “Me and my friend have business at the Fortress. Do you suppose you could help us get there?” She felt his eyes on her, giving her a long once over before furrowing his brows skeptically. “The Baroness’ fortress? What kind of business are you talking about?”

“Personal business,” she replied quickly, “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent. Please?” Reaching out, she touched the man’s arm, knowing the impact a simple touch could have. His eyes rested on her for another long moment before he sighed. “Fine, get on board.” With that he turned around, shouting commands at his crew as he stepped out of the way for the two women to pass.

Phoebe gave Ayura a look over her shoulder, a winning smile on her lips. “I told you I got this,” she whispered happily before climbing on board.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura made a small, playful scoff. “I never said I doubted you,” she murmured back as she climbed in after Phoebe. “Just, don’t be afraid to give me a shout if they try anything shifty. I’ll thump them around for you,” she snickered.

She leaned against the side of the boat as the craft finally began to move amongst the normal shouts of the crew’s communication. The wind was brisk, and it caught the sails of the boat nicely. The paladin’s eyes were far away as she looked from the horizon, down to the deep blue of the water around them. “Almost like home…”

“Do we have any sort of plan yet? Or are we just going to wing it as we go? There’s no question that there’s magic behind all this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: “No worries. I’m a big tough girl. I can handle this,” Phoebe teased, winking at Ayura.

A frown spread over her face as the other girl mentioned a plan. “Well. I don’t have one,” she admitted with a shrug, still not taking the situation quite as serious as she probably should have. “I’d say we just go in and wing it. It’s not like we know what to expect anyway, right?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: “Nope!” Ayura popped her lips with a ‘p’. “And, I think that’s best for me too. I like to act on my own terms, so winging it is just fine.”

A couple of hours passed with nothing of great importance before one of the crew members shouted a signal. Ayura straightened from her position of leaning against the inside of the hull and held onto one of the masts, climbing perhaps ten feet up with no rope. She peered over, seeing the dark, foreboding castle in the distance. She hopped back down. “We’re getting close.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: The sudden shouting around her startled Phoebe a little more than she would have liked to admit. Looking at the ocean and lazy movement of the waves for what felt like hours was relatively dull so she found herself completely lost in thought by the time they reached their destination. “Great,” she said with a yawn as she got up from where she was sitting and stretched out. “I can’t wait to get some action.” Giving Ayura a playful nudge, she waited for the ship to finally hit the coast.

It wasn’t long after they finally berthed that the two women got to leave the boat and to be quite honest, the soldier was more than happy to have solid ground under her feet again. Finding the fortress wasn’t an issue this time since the huge castle seemed to take up most of the small island’s space. “All we have to do is get in and find the throne room, right?” Looking up at the huge towers above them, Phoebe swallowed thickly. “That can’t be that hard.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: “No, not usually, the throne room is supposed to be easy to get to, assuming they use the same logic in this castle as they do in real life,” Ayura mused, mostly to herself. “Although, honestly, we’re going to have to do some snooping around anyway. We have to stop whatever magic is creating those soldiers.” She paused for a while, studying the castle from the outside, watching its windows.

She suddenly pointed. “It’s up there,” she remarked, gesturing to some large, stained-glass windows a couple of stories higher than their position, on the eastern wall, visible from the outside. “That has to be the throne room. No other room would be so gaudy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: Looking up to where Ayura was pointing, Phoebe nodded in agreement. “Damn, this baroness seems to be a real show-off, huh?” Pulling one brow up, she looked over the castle once more before sighing, looking at the huge double door not too far from them. “What do you think? Just knock on the front door and see what happens or do we want to look for some kind of back way?”

The uncertainty was probably clearly visible on her face. In her opinion, neither of their two options sounded good or even remotely safe and the eerie vibes she was getting from that castle only added to her concern.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura scoffed with a grin. “Obviously, look for a back way, we’re only inviting trouble immediately if we go through the front,” she chuckled, already setting off towards the eastern side of the castle, gazing up at the architecture for anything that could be of use. After a few minutes, her chin lifted. “I hope you’re good with heights.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Phoebe: Phoebe followed her closely, every now and then looking around just to make sure that no one was following them yet. After all, stealth was their biggest advantage up to this point and getting caught now would be less than beneficial. Looking up, her eyes widened in shock. “Don’t tell me you want to climb up there?”, she asked in disbelieve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura chuckled. “Not all the way up. Just a story, maybe two.” She pointed up to a ledge about eight yards up. “Do you see over there? If we get up there, we might be able to find a side door.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: She looked up at the ledge, then to Ayura and back to the ledge. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Stunts was not something she was a stranger to and climbing could be fun, however the lack of a safety bond and the possibility of falling to her death really killed her excitement. “Okay, fine,” she huffed finally, getting a little closer to the wall. “Come here, I’ll boost you up.” It wasn’t like Phoebe had any doubt that Ayura would be fine with climbing up on her own, but she definitely was quite a bit shorter than her and they had no time to waste after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura tilted her head. “I might be short, but I can climb. Maybe I should boost you up instead,” she laughed. She pointed to a much shorter ledge. “If you think you can get up there on your own, then sure, otherwise, I’ll think I’ll stay below you and help you out when it’s needed.” She paused, wondering if that sounded a little too bossy. “Sorry, is that alright with you?” She didn’t want to come off too standoffish. She was confident in her own ability, but many people found interpreted that to be cockiness even though hers was a stalwart certainty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: “I can climb, too,” Phoebe said with the hint of a pout, probably a little too hesitantly to sound convincing. “I’m just not crazy about the idea, that’s all.” Still, it was the only plan they had and a pretty good one, too. Placing a hand against the cold stone wall, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, that sounds okay.” Looking up the first ledge, she dug her fingers into the cracks between the stones in the wall, making her way up slowly. It took a lot of willpower not to look down, only doing so after she finally hoisted herself up on the first ledge. “Okay, I’m good,” she said, trying to find a middle ground between talking loud enough for Ayura to hear and quiet enough to not attract any unwanted attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura backed away from the wall, five steps, seven steps. Then she raced forward, taking five or seven steps on the wall itself before she caught onto the ledge with her hands, grunting as she pulled herself over. “Ugh, alright. Let’s find our next handhold…”

Once they were up to the initial designated ledge that Ayu had pointed out earlier, she flashed a breathless smile. “Didn’t I tell you?” she grinned as she gestured at the wooden door just across the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: “Wow, you actually were right!”, Phoebe said surprised, not even noticing how that might come across a little offensive.

Somehow the castle seemed even creepier from the inside. “It’s oddly quiet in here, don’t you think?” Looking at Ayura, she tried not to let her insecurity show. Taking a few more steps down the hallway, she suddenly saw something move in the corner of her eye. She barely had enough time to unsheathe her sword before the hooded figure attack her. Dodgings its attack by a hair's breadth, she quickly pierced her blade through the creature’s head. “Somehow I doubt that this was the only one,” she whispered in a warning tone, slowly turning around to her partner. “This is so not good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: “Were you expecting the castle to be empty during whatever warzone of a time this is?” she teased with a grin. “Come on, the throne room is this way.” The two of them crept along the hallway, choosing to sneak past the guard rather than engaging them. Soon they came across the giant doors of the throne room, although Ayura wasn’t focused on that.

“Look for a smaller door, it would be the Chamberlain’s entrance, she briefly explained. “I played enough games with castles in it. There should be one around here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: “A smaller door?”, Phoebe repeated, not quite sure what was wrong with the door they had already found. Still, she felt like they had come too far already to start arguing over something as trivial as which entrance to take now.

“Over here,” she called over when she found what Ayura had been talking about. Cracking the door open just a bit, she fell silent, listening into the room for any sign of danger. “I think we’re good.” Her voice was still low as she looked at her and gave a firm nod before ducking through the door and into the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayura: Ayura slipped in behind her. “Nice. Didn’t want to announce our arrival by going through the big, loud, door that’s intentionally made to be impressive,” Ayura quickly explained under her breath. Like any Chamberlain’s hall, it was a quiet and dark hallway, intended for only one person at a time to go through, a short passageway that would end up in some obscure corner of the throne room.

The paladin kept a hand on her sword as she opened the door to the throne room just a peek. Surprisingly, there was no one there. “Wow, this is too easy. There’s no one here. That makes me a little nervous.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe: She nodded, obviously tense. Something was very, very wrong and it was more than obvious. That was when the realisation hit her. “This isn’t too easy. This is just the beginning.” The beginning of something way worse, she was sure.

#ayura #bfrpgmajorquest008 #shamelessly stealing caris quest info part lol

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