#it’s invading embroidery circles

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 3-4 & 3-5

The weather didn't look good.

The sky was full of heavy clouds, ready to rain down at any moment.

Having arrived at the east edge of the plains, the people of Pao began setting up their bazaar. They put up frames, and wrapped them up in thick cloth to make walls. Then more fabric was used to cover them and the job was done. In less than an hour, the Pao Train was surrounded by colorful tents that had blossomed like flowers.

For better or for worse, the rain began once the tents were already up.

To the plains, the rain was a blessing.

But to Bleu's group, it was only something to delay their departure.

To confirm that the rain wouldn't let up any time soon, they went to see Queen Koron.

As if she had predicted the time of their visit, she had all her main aides reunited there for an audience.

"Sir Bleu, hurry to Uranbatol as fast as possible. This rain brings misfortune."

Coming from a prophet, those words sounded terribly ominous. That worry wasn't lessened by the panicked soldier running up to them.

"I've came to report. A squad of devils is invading the bazaar right now. There's dozens of them. One is a giant squid monster."

"A kraken. Seems that Ziduur hasn't given up on the Manual yet," Camallia whispered as she heard the report.

"Are these the devils that crossed the ocean to steal the Manual? In that case, we have to make them regret challenging us."

Queen Koron turned to her aides, her right arm pointing energetically to each of them. The bright blue shawl covering up to her fingers flapped, exposing her sleeveless emerald dress with golden embroidery.

"Take out our soldiers and wipe the enemies out. We'll gather all civilians in the Pao Train and then station it away from the battlefield."

The people hurried away to fulfill Koron's orders.

"Is it possible to see the enemies from the head car?"

"Yes," a soldier from Koron's personal guard answered firmly.

"Then, please follow me. Sir Bleu, you and your group shouldn't leave this train."

"No, we will fight too," Bleu said to the queen.

"That won't do. Leave this matter to us."

"No, those who can fight shouldn't be wasting time here. I'm leaving the Manual to Karin. Tyrin, Randolf, Guntz, Camallia, let's go."

Calling his companions, Bleu made his way to leave the room.

"Wait, I'll go too," Karin stopped him.

'Why can't I go but Camallia can?', she accused in her mind.

"You protect the Manual," he told her, and took the others outside. Koron only called for Guntz to stop.

"I have a request for Sir Guntz. Please come with me."

Taking him with her, the queen went to the head car. Karin, Krin and Karna, having been left behind, followed them without being told no.

***5***

Swinging its ten legs full of suction cups, the kraken pounded the tents repeatedly as it advanced.

It was a monster from the ocean, the depths of it no less, and would never come to the surface by itself. The land wasn't its territory. As proof of it, it couldn't support its huge body, dragging itself through the ground slowly.

This was all in vain, thought Ziduur as he stared at the summoning circle he had inscribed in the ground with his own blood.

He certainly would have the upper hand if attacking them at sea. But, he was afraid of losing the Manual in the waters. Finding the semi-transparent object there would be near impossible.

If he didn't come back with the Manual, his master would destroy him. For sure.

Anxious, Ziduur decided to rush things.

At least the rain, that he had brought down using more of the Devil Jewel's power, was washing away the magic circle he used to summon the kraken and the other monsters.

"Go, steal the Manual, and kill the Sacred Dragon and all his followers."

Ziduur ordered the devils shaking his left arm, the only one he had left. The monsters advanced towards the Pao Train. They were half men half-fish known as soulsowers, and purple worms and gargoyles, with the kraken as their main force.

The soldiers of Pao were well ready to welcome them.

They dodged the anemone-like feelers of the purple worms and stabbed them with their lances, and cut down the hard scales of the soulsowers with their Battle Axes.

The problem were the gargoyles. Bleu was good against flying enemies like them, but they were too many. The ones he failed to finish off began chasing the retreating train. Bleu went after them, and the kraken after him, knocking down the soldiers in its way.

Its many legs, ondulating heavily like waves of a storm, stretched towards Bleu. If caught by one of those suction cups, he would be slammed down to the ground with no escape. Bleu made the best of his flying skills to fly around the kraken. Its huge body also proved itself terribly resistant to Bleu's lightning breath.

"Let's hit it while it's chasing Sir Bleu," Tyrin shouted. He was leading soldiers carrying Buster Shot cannons loaded with explosive bullets.

Estimating the timing of Bleu's and the soldiers' actions, he cast a Freeze spell. The cold storm assaulted the kraken while turning the falling rain into a hail. A soft part of the monster's body couldn't stand the attack and froze, white. The soldiers concentrated their shots there. The power of their weapons, built in Prompt thanks to the legacies of the Ancients, smashed the kraken's frozen skin.

Leaking blue blood, the monster's anger changed its color to black, and released its poisonous ink, the Aqua Breath, in the direction of Tyrin and the soldiers.

A soldier failed to dodge and was completely covered in the ink, perishing.

"Are you okay, Tyrin?"

Randolf came by after cutting a purple worm into slices, grabbing Tyrin's arm and carrying him to a safe place.

"Couldn't you be a little more gentle?" Tyrin yelled, with water dripping down his beard like a waterfall, and covered in mud. If he had enough energy to complain then he was just fine, Randolf laughed.

"Are you two alright?" Bleu had come back, worried. "Where's Camallia?" He asked, not seeing the girl there.

"She went after the gargoyles, to protect the train. Leave that place to the girls," Randolf said, pointing to the Pao Train, and then the kraken with his thumb, "our priority is doing something about that monster."

Water came down with no mercy on his open mouth.

The train's large shape could be only be dimly seen in the pouring rain. Because of that, it looked farther away than it really was, and Bleu felt anxious. An indescribable fear ran through his veins at the realization that he had left Karin somewhere he couldn't reach.

"Don't worry, Queen Koron and Camallia will handle the girls and the Manual somehow. You heard the King of Bustoke, you don't fight by yourself. We gotta do what we can in our area. Right now, that's defeating that monster," Randolf shouted, sensing Bleu's fear. The rain was so strong that being that loud was the only way to talk.

"Alright, let's do it Tyrin's way one more time. Randolf, you lead the remaining knights and open further the wound they made before. I'll deal with its movements and poison somehow."

Giving these short orders, Bleu flew once again.

Translation notes:

Devil Jewel is written 悪魔のジュエル, with my translation being as literal as it can be (I guess Devil's Jewel could also work, but my translation feels better as a name). However, this is exactly what the Jewel of Evil is called in japanese SF2 as well. They're clearly not the same jewel, as that one is blue, but I figured I'd note that.

Soulsowers. If you don't remember, they are fish enemies from SF2, and I'm using the same name the localization gave them so people can recognize them right away. Their japanese name however is completely different, インスマンス (Insumansu). The term seems to come from the H. P. Lovecraft novel "The Shadow Over Innsmouth", which features fish-faced people. The term インスマス面 (Innsmouth-face, sometimes spelled as インスマウス面 instead) seems to have become a general term for describing characters with fish-faces, or just distorted faces with wide eyes spread too far from each other, or at least that's the gist i got browsing pixiv and nnd. So that mostly explains the name, but I couldn't figure out if the spelling used here is another known alternative spelling or something unique to Shining. Don't ask me where the localization got soulsower from, though. I tried looking the term up and, I just get actual SF2 results lol.

In SF2, the kraken has eight legs and ten arms, here no distinction was made between arms and legs.

Also, Aqua Breath is not poisonous there, but I totally understand the writer changing it to something more threatening and deadly than bubbles. Curiously, Final Conflict, which was released a year after this novel, did include a kraken enemy variant in a different color that had poison attacks. Coincidence? Most likely, but why would I pass an opportunity to mention Final Conflict.

I'm somehow not done talking about the kraken, did you know that it really is coded to be weak to ice magic in SF2? But you don't have access to ice magic in that part of the game so it goes wasted. This was pointed out in at least one strategy guide so the writer might be referencing it. On the other hand though, Freeze is just supposed to be Tyrin's specialty anyway.

[dycefic]

The Statues That Do Not Weather

For Sas, another story about helping.

#

There is a statue on the cliffs overlooking the harbour, of a man shading his eyes with one hand and looking out over the sea.

They say that when invaders came, a man went up to the cliffs, and prayed to the gods. He offered them his own life to save his people. The gods accepted his sacrifice, and a great fire burned across the water, sinking all the ships. The man became stone, and ever since then he has stood on the cliffs, looking out at ships that sank long ago.

There is a statue that stands in the center of the town, of an old woman with both hands held up before her, palm out.

They say that when invaders came again, a woman stood in the middle of the square, and ordered them to halt. She reminded them of the great fire that sank the ships years before, and called on the gods to strike down any man who took one more step, though it cost her life. The gods accepted her sacrifice, and the invaders who stepped forward became water, running back down the hill towards the sea and soaking the boots of the men behind them. The survivors fled in fear, and the woman became stone, her feet set among the cobbles, her hands raised to stop invaders long gone.

There is a statue that stands by the road that runs past our village, of a young woman holding a basket.

They say that when brigands came upon the village in the teeth of a hard winter, starving and desperate, a woman saw them coming and offered them the food in her basket. They mocked her, saying that so little would not feed them for a day. She, too, called on the gods, and she, too, was answered. She made a bargain with their leader, that every man would turn back when he had all the food he could carry. From that one basket, she filled every bandit’s hands and sacks with food until he could carry no more. When she had filled even the leader’s hands, she bowed her head and became stone, her basket empty at last. The bandits kept to their bargain, and never troubled the village again.

We all know these stories. We all know why those people became stone, stone that does not weather.

I wander too far. Everyone says that. I explore along the sea-coast, and into the forest. I wander into pathless places, onto untrodden ground, and explore what is unknown.

Sometimes I find good things. Groves of nut trees, or new fishing places, or mushrooms that are good to eat. I draw maps, too, for those who want them, to show where water is, and good ground, and wolf trails, and bear’s dens.

But I will not draw a map to this place.

Deep, deep in the forest, deeper than even I have ever gone before, I found a clearing that was marked by fire. Nothing was left alive in that clearing - trees were charred stumps, grass was sifting ash, and even the earth was blackened. And yet there had been no fire here, not recently. Even this deep in the forest, the smoke from it would have been seen, and the light. There had been no fire that could create this burning, and there was no smell of fire, and yet no rain had ever fallen on this floating white ash. And when I paced out the edge of the burning, it was a perfect circle, centered on two figures standing facing one another.

Two stone figures.

I approached them cautiously, with my scarf pulled up so that I would not breathe in any of the ash I stirred up. I didn’t want any of that strange, impossible ash trapped in my lungs.

They were both men, standing facing each other. Like the others, they were stone of a kind I had never seen anywhere else - grey as winter twilight, faintly speckled with lighter and darker grey, and smooth as ice. I could see every detail of their clothing from the embroidery on their tunics to the leather strips that tied their hair. And I could see that these statues were old. At least as old as the man on the cliffs, and he was older than any of us knew the measure of.

Things don’t change much, in this fishing village. The clothes I wear, my heavy wool leggings and tunic, my cap and my wrapped boots, are almost identical to the leggings and tunic, cap and boots that my grandfather’s grandfather wore every day of his life. The statue of the old woman wears much the same skirts and shawl and cap that old women wear now. The young woman’s statue, the most recent, is dressed like any young matron of the village.

But the man on the cliff is a little different. The neck of his tunic is held closed not with a button or a bar, but with a stone claw. The embroidery is simpler than the patterns we use now, and the leather of his vest is rough-tanned. His boots are tied with thongs, not wrapped as mine are, and the knife at his belt is shorter and broader than the ones we use. His cap comes to a soft point at the crown, like a woman’s cap, it’s not round like mine.

These men… I think they might be even older than he is. The points on their caps are taller. Their boots are little more than hides tied to their feet with thongs, and the embroidery on their hems is of the simplest kind, lines and knots in repeating patterns. They don’t wear vests, but short capes of furs.

The face of one man is twisted in anger. The face of the other is still and sad. For all that, there’s a likeness between them. They could be brothers, or kinsmen of some degree. And all around them, the ash of a terrible burning still lies, undisturbed, though the burning was so long ago that it has passed out of living memory.

When I leave that place, I stop to brush the ash off my boots as soon as I step outside the invisible boundary, and find that there is none. Not a fleck, not a grain, clings to me anywhere. I run most of the way home.

But the memory of those two statues haunts me. Is there any way to know what they were? Who they were? I ask the old, but they cannot tell me. Our oldest story is that of the man on the cliff, surviving only because he still stands there. What came before him, no-one now knows.

It was spring when I found the two statues. It’s not until summer that a group of traveling players pass the village, as they do every summer, bringing news of the world outside, new stories and songs, embroidery threads and trinkets, and a little change in our dull routine. They stay for two nights and a day, as they always do. On the second evening, I seek out the storyteller, who is an old woman with a withered leg and sharp, bright eyes. She is sitting in the square, as she always does, looking at the statue of the old woman, as she always does. There is a faint likeness in the two faces, the grey stone and the wrinkled, weathered brown skin, though it could be simply the signs of age that make them seem so.

I offer her a tankard. “Ale for a tale?” I ask.

She smiles and takes the tankard. “No-one else is offering, so why not? What do you want to hear, young man?” She looked at me, and her wrinkled face creased further in a frown. “There’s a trouble on you,” she said more quietly. “Is that why you want the story?”

“Yes. I want an old story. A story so old that I am not sure anyone could still know it. But I must ask.” I sat on the bench beside her, and looked at my hands. Sometimes I still think I see ash on them. “A story from before the story of the statue on the cliffs.”

“That is an old, old story, then,” she said softly. “I know few so old. Do you know what story you want?”

I looked at the statue of the old woman, her hands raised to forbid death from coming to her people. “A story of two men,” I said slowly. “Brothers, it may be. One sad, and one angry, who went into a forest and never returned.”

She nodded and sat silently for some time, her eyes flickering behind closed lids. I had seen her do this before, when she searched her great memory for a story. This search was a long one, but at last she opened her eyes. “Once upon a time, when the world was young,” she began, in the chanting tones of one who has committed every word carefully to memory, “there were two brothers. They were the sons of a great Jarl, or warleader. One was a great warrior, and one a shaman, a mystic, who was very wise. Their fame was great, and from all around their stronghold, many traveled far to seek their aid and counsel, which they always gave, for they were good men.”

She leaned back against the stone wall behind us, warmed by the sun, and stared at the old woman’s statue as if she did not see it, but looked past it into history. “Then a great trouble came on the land. Some say it was a great sorcerer, and some said it was a demon, and some said it was a monster of ancient days, but all agree that it caused great destruction and loss of life; for where it went, everything died, even the land itself. When word came to the great Jarl, he wished to take an army to defeat it, but his sons dissuaded him. The wise one said that magic must face magic, and the warrior said that strength must face strength, and the two of them set out to face the evil alone. For nine days, three times three, the two were gone from their father’s hall. On the tenth day, a great shadow rose and blotted out the sun, and the people were afraid. But then a great wind arose, and blew the shadow away, and the great evil was never heard of in that land again. But never again were the Jarl’s sons seen by men.”

She turned her head to look at me. “That is the end of the story, as it is usually told,” she said, and her eyes seemed to bore through me. “There is more. But it is a part of the lore of the Wise, never spoken without great need, and I will not tell it to you without good reason.”

I nodded slowly. She was a Wise Woman, then, not only a storyteller, and I must tread carefully. “If you can persuade your people to stay for one more day,” I told her, “I will show you.”

The traveling players were forced to linger an extra day, for in the night a wheel broke on one of their carts, and they needed our blacksmith to help them fix the iron rim to a new wheel.

The old woman could not walk into the forest, with her withered leg. I carried her on my back, therefore, in the sling I use to carry wood, and at noon we reached that strange, barren clearing. All was as I remembered it. There stood the two figures, facing one another. The angry figure, with a knife still in the hand that had fallen to his side. The sad figure, one hand holding a staff, the other extended towards the angry one. And all around them, the burning that had never faded.

When I let the old woman down, she hobbled slowly around them, leaning on her stick, and then she stopped and looked at me for a long time. “A bargain is a bargain,” she said then, and led me to a fallen tree just outside the circle of burning. Again, we sat side by side, looking at the grey stone that had once been human flesh.

She folded her hands on her stick, and again her eyes seemed to look past the statues into history. “For eighty-one days, nine times nine, the Jarl and his people mourned for the two good men who had given their lives. And on the last day of the mourning, a vision came to the Jarl’s only daughter. Her brothers stood before her, and they seemed to her faded and grey, as if she saw them through a mist. The oldest brother, the warrior, told her that he had destroyed the great evil, but in doing so had unleashed a terrible curse, that would steal the lives of all the people living in that land and turn them to stone, and burn all else that was living until only ashes remained. Then the second brother, the shaman, told her that he could not destroy the power of the curse, but he had bound it with his own life and his own power. And he told her that he had made of the curse a gift. That any one of his people could, at any time, call upon the curse at need, and use a portion of its power - but if they did, they would become stone themselves. This he promised, until the power of the curse is at last exhausted.”

I sat up then. “Wait… it’s not the gods? It’s… him?” I pointed at the sad one. “He’s the one who burned the ships, and turned the invaders to water, and made food fill the basket over and over?”

She turned and glared at me. “Don’t interrupt.” she said sharply. “I am reciting from memory, and no word may be spoken out of place. As I was saying.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then resumed the soft, chanting recital. “This he promised, until the power of the curse is at last exhausted. And on that day the statues will fall to dust, and the evil that came upon the land will be broken.” She sighed. “All of this vision, the sister of the warrior and the shaman spoke aloud to the Jarl and his people, and they were amazed. The Jarl’s next oldest son, who was only newly made a man, was made his father’s heir, and he vowed that he, and his sons, and his son’s sons, would never forget the sacrifice his brothers had made. The sister became a shaman, like her brother, and passed all of the story into the lore of the Wise, so that they would always remember it.

“And the Jarl’s last child said nothing, being only a child and not permitted to speak in council. But nine years later, three times three, she left her father’s house, taking with her her husband and his warriors, and her women went with her, and they travelled for nine days and nine nights, following her brothers. And when she reached the sea, she set her feet and said ‘here we will live, all of us, and our children likewise. This is the first harbour that invaders come to from the south, and the first road into our lands from the west. Here we will remain, ever vigilant, until the curse is no more.”

The old woman sighs deeply. “And that is the end of the story,” she said softly. “But here is another thing that the Wise know. The Jarl’s holdings are long gone, and none but the Wise now know of him. But from that time to this, more than five hundred years, there has been a village in this place. No ships have ever raided our shores. No invaders have ever come from the west. And the children’s children’s children of the Jarl’s youngest child have never left their post. Every year, a Wise One comes to see, and every year, you still remain.”

I feel as if a mountain of snow crushed down on me, here in the heat of summer. Five hundred years. More than that. Five hundred years and more of a little fishing village, without a single warrior in it, protecting all the lands behind it. Not even remembering now how we do it, but still doing it. “There are only three statues,” I say very slowly. “They must have been peaceful centuries.”

The old woman smiled slightly, but her eyes looked sad. “There are only three statues in the village,” she said quietly. “But you have already found two more. Don’t you think that there may be others?”

I carry the old woman back to the village. That night, the whole village hears the story of our village’s founding, of the great curse held at bay, waiting for us to call on its power and become stone.

Then I, and some of the other young men and women, begin to search. We won’t forget again. We will find the other statues, whose names and stories have been forgotten.

We have already found one - a boy, perhaps thirteen. He stands with a hoe held in both hands, like a weapon, staring down an enemy our stories do not remember, almost completely hidden by bushes on a farm long forgotten.

We will find the others.

We will not forget again.

And we will watch the sea, and the land, and be ready.

Here we will remain, ever vigilant, until the curse is no more.

[unbreathable]

The magpie  ❃ B.Barnes

Summary : As the princess of a prosperous kingdom, you lived a life of luxury and happines. But when war is brought upon you homeland and you find yourself at the mercy of the enemy... just how far would you go to stay alive?

Pairing : Dark King Bucky x Female!Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, violence, manipulation, lying, blood, gore, death and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this chapter : violence, swearing, rape.

Word count : 2.189

Credit : for the magpie image and the Bucky Burnes gif the credit goes to their rightful creator.

Note : Not me wanting to post something and then remembering I still have exams so yeah... Please take this chapter as a filler. I know it’s a little (ok, a lot) boring but after this, the actual story starts. Please bear with me, ‘cause I still don’t know what I’m doing but I’m trying. I also didn’t have the time to perfect it, sorry. But on the bright side, next week I’ll have a short break, so the next chapter would be better... hopefully. Also I should mention that English is not my first language so please excuse any typos you may encounter.

Thank you! I’m so happy. Really. I did not expect that first chapter to be so well received. Thank you! It means the world to me. I love you all!

 Also, to all the writers from this platform (especially the dark!fic ones) thank you !

❃ ❃

The darkness that surrounded you was terrifying. It was cold and hot at the same time. It also felt constrincting. There was something heavy on your chest that stoped you from getting that deep breath of air you desperately needed.

You woke up with a gasp. For a moment you felt like you were emerging from bottomless waters. It seemed that the world itself was submerged.You blinked, vision coming in and out of focus. Your whole body ached. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that you were already dreading. You tried to move your hand, but found it way too hard to do it, and that simple move sent a wave of pain through your whole body. You groaned.

As you blinked one more time, your vision started getting dim around the edges. You felt like there was too much happening around you. There were lound sounds, graoning, screaming but there was also hushed ones, voices that were too shaky to even make one coherent sound. You felt confused. There was a numbing sensation that took over your whole body. It also came with a slight ringing in your ear. Someone was speaking to you, but you couldn’t even look at them, let alone make out a single word they were saying. Everything was either too loud or too quit. You wanted it to stop.

”It’s allright, child. Take a deep breath.”

Somehow, through all the fog that clouded your mind you understood the gentle comand. The buzz of the crowd started to register and as you fought the dizzness and nausea, your senses started to come to you. The first thing you took notice of, was the ruptere of moonstone yellow that illuminated the bat black sky. The second thing was the groaning and laughing of men and the cries of women. You tried to move you head but it made you too dizzy.

A hand rested on your head. You flinched. Even as familiar and gentle as it seemed you couldn’t help it. Your vision was still blurry, but you tried with all your might to focus it.

“Shh!” the old woman whose hand caressed your head, spoke in quiet voice. ”Don’t say a word.”

You furrowed your brows. You were sure you knew her, but the throbbing in your head didn’t let you remember every detail. Even so you felt like you could trust her, you felt somehow safe around her. You felt the same way one would feel around his mother.

Your eyes widened suddenly and your whle body lunged forward on it’s own accord. Your mother, the queen, the war, the king, the invaders. It all came back at once. A nauseating wave took over and you started to throw up. There was a hand at the back of your head, helping you mentain your equilibrium. You grimanced as you felt the bitter acid taste in your mouth and the burning sensation left in the back of your troath.

”Easy there child!”

You weren’t exactly paying attention to whoever was speaking, instead your still blurry eyes took in your surroundings. You were inside the citadel, you could tell that much. The light given by the torches was enough to see the ground that was polished with guts. A vile smell rose up from it. You wrinkled your nose in disgust. Moving you head a little, your breath caught in your throat. Hang all around the walls of the citadel, were heads of men that you knew. Of men that fought bravely to protect their homes and families. You felt sick. And as your eyes fell on the hanged head of Sir Gregor, you felt your heart stopping. If you could you would have screamed, but you were too numb all of a sudden.

A movement caught your eyes. Blinking the blurriness away and ignoring the ache you felt, you turned your face towards the foreign men. It was then, you realized the situation you were currently in.

Lined along the citadels walls were all the girls that were so unfortunate to be caught alive. Some of them were bound, while others were too terrified to move even one single finger. You watched them, even recognized some. Young, beautiful girls laidies and maids alike. At least, some people you knew were alive. You felt a little bit of hope making it’s way in your heart, only to disappear the next second.

Barbaric men were circling the girls like a wolf would his prey. Their hungry eyes were taking in their young bodies as if they were starved. You recoiled when you saw their hand touching their lower body parts through the clothes they were wearing. As a loud scream made itself herd, you averted your eyes.

A little too late though. You already saw that man tearing the top of one girl’s dress. You already saw her scared face as she made to cover herself. You already saw her being thrown to the ground, and her dress torn. You already saw the outline of one’s erect cock entering her without a second thought. And she wasn’t the only one. The screams were horrendous.

You moved back, pressing yourself against the cold wall of the castle, a sharp stone diging into your side. You were petrified. Your breath was too fast and too hallow. You felt like you could faint.

Strong, gentle hands squeezed your shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, princess!” the gentle and quiet voice made itself herd again.

You whimpered as you turned your eyes to the woman in front of you, without really seeing her. She mimicked your breathing till you understood and slowed down with her. Her hand took yours and she offered a sad smile.

”How did I get here?” you suddenly found your voice.

The woman you now recognized as lady Alice, looked away for a moment. She have been the wife of a lord, you remembered. She also have been there the day you were born, the day you painted your first portrait and the day you first learde how to dance. You remembered her as the one that teached you embroidery. A kind and beautiful lady. She was also the one that always stood next to your mother and supported her.

”I’m not sure.” she said as she looked around with teary eyes . ”If I were to guess I’d say you were lucky”

Confusion still filled your mind. But you remembered the way that man rised his fist. You didn’t remember him hitting you but the pain in your body was enough to tell you everything. You never felt anything like it. In a way you were indignated. You were a princess. No one had the right to put his hands like that on you. But as the girls screams started growing louder and louder, you realized that maybe you were indeed lucky.

You wanted to laugh. If this was what luck looked like, you didn’t want to know what no luck was like.

”They found other girls running in the tunnels, so they didn’t think twice about you.”

Something clicked. Now you understood why they didn’t ake an assumption of you coming out of that tunnel. You understood why you were here right now. They didn’ t think you were nothing else but a maid. But that didn’t explain who stopped that brute from killing you with his bare fist. At the reminder of what that man did to you and at your own helpness you trembled. Your head felt fuzzy and you felt like trowing up again. It was too much. You wanted it to stop.

And suddenly it did. All the buzzing, all the mocking laughter, all the grunts of the disgusting man, everything stopped. Only the cries and hiccups of the girls remained. But even those were silenced as one of the savages, annoyed by the cries, smashed a poor girl’s head on the cold ground.

“Shut it, you whore!”

You felt anger taking over you. Oh, how much you wanted the tides to be different. Your father would have head his head, and you would have had the pleasure to watch as his qrotesque face would have asked for mercy. You would have watched as his head fell beside his body. At the image you felt an odd satisfaction. Then you recoiled. What were you even thinking? You never thought about hurting a fly and now you felt strangely euphoric as you imagined someone’s death.

”Try to stay calm” the old lady spoke again, as her eyes were fixated on the main gate of the castle.

As it opened, all the thugs that were literally enjoying themselves not moments ago, kneeled. You raised your brows. The man that brought all of this upon you emerged from inside the castle.

Your castle. Your home. Your safeplace.

You felt again, the now familiar, sentiment of anger. Oh, how you wanted to wipe that mocking smirk from his face. You made to move forward, anger fueling your body and clouding your mind. But you had no power and as aching as your body was, you realized you’d have no chance. So when a hand tugged you back, you were actually thankful.

Cradled into lady Alice’s arms, you watched the king making his glory march. Seeing him so confident and being worshipped by his men made you realize that everything was over. That was it. Everything you knew was bound to change, and what made you want to cry was the fact that you could do nothing about it.

”It was a long fight… ” lost in your thoughts you nearly jumped when you heard the deep loud voice. ”One that could have been avoided if your old crazy king would just have accepted  that it was his time to go”

At the mention of your father you squeezed your eyes shut. How could this man even talk about the king of the most flourishing kingdom in that manner? How could this man even pretend that he would be better? You wanted to scratch his eyes out.  You wanted to see him bleed. You wanted …

”Do you want to know the fate of your precious king? Do you want to know what happened to the one you followed so blindly?” he jeered.

As he moved to one side , your eyes followed him. You saw him grabbing a sack and as he placed on the ground, you squinted your eyes to see whatever was inside. But as he took it out, you wished you had never been born. Your fathers head was held high in the air, by the one that killed him. You gasped for air. And as the men cheered you threw up for the second time. Tears were running down you cheeks, and you wanted to rip everything apart.

”Look at your king!” he laughed again like a maniac. It was a cruel, cruel laugh, one that you were sure would fallow you in your nightmares.

You trembled, and as king James threw the head away without a care, lady Alice’s hand covered your eyes. She whispered words of comfort in your ear but you were lost. Your hands found the ground beneath and you started clawing at it. You didn’t know what to do. You felt nothing and everything at the same time.

There were cheers from every men that was there and a mockery of laughter. You wanted to scream. To take a sword and put it through that man’s black heart. You almost wished you never woke up from that beating. This was unberable. The tears runned dry on your face. And as you let your head rest against the rocky wall, you hoped that this all was nothing but a nightmare. Maybe you were still there, at the back of the castle left for the wild animals to feed on. At that moment you preferred that. You would actually have been thankful for that. But you knew. The throbbing in your head and the pain your body was in, told you that you were very much alive.

”My men, you fought hard, and you deserve to celebrate!” you heard the dreaded voice again, but at this point you weren’t sure if it even stopped. ”So let us begin!”

There were cheers again, but they were merged with screams and cries. You somehow knew what that kind of celebration meant. The girls were dragged to their doom. Some of them were already sporting nasty bruises along their faces, but the savage men didn’t seem to mind as long they rutted into a young body. You turned your head towards lady Alice and her from her face expression you knew she had the same thoughts as you.

“Go princess!” her voice was nothing more but a whisper but somehow you heard it.

You made to stand up, hoping that in all that madness you would, by a miracle, go unnoticed. You had to get away, you knew that much. You had a promise to keep. Trying to mantain your equilibrium you made a step. But that was it, you didn’t get to take another. There was a hand on your throat and you felt yourself held up against the cold war. You coughed. Laidy’s Alice screams were cut short by the sword that turned her head to the side. You watched her hit the ground and when you felt you were running out of air, you meet the cold blue eyes of your captor. The same bastard that hit you, now was toying with your life for the second time.

”Hello, little bird!” you opened your mouth, wishing that you could tell every little thing you thought about the blond in that moment, but when the only thing you did was gasp for air, he continued. ”You know, you’re lucky you’re pretty or otherwise I would have made an example out of you” he laughed.

You started to feel dizzy and your vision was starting to blur again. You brought your hand up to his hoping to take a little of the pressure but he didn’t bulge.

”Now now” he tutted. “I do hope you’ll be a good girl” he tightened his grip as you fought for your last breath. ”You know, he wants the best, and you’re a true beauty even with that bruise I left on your face.” with his other hand he touched your cheek,dragging his fingers across your skin. ”Hell, I would have kept your for myself.”

When he finally lossened his hold you found yourself on the ground gasping for air. There was a burning sensation in your whole body and you felt like your heart was beating in your head. You bit your lip. And when the blond brought you to your feet by your hair, you held back a whimper .

”Aww, don’t be like that.” He smirked. ”You’re gonna get the chance to touch a king, you should feel honored.”

[quickspinner]

The Magic of You - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

Wandering the forest in search of a place with strong magical energy, Luka finds exactly what he needs--only someone else claims this particular spot, and she's rather shy. When Luka finally does meet her face to face, well...he's got a problem.

Marinette is content in her own little territory, until a human minstrel-mage wanders into it. She's not especially happy about it at first, but the more she watches him, the more she thinks maybe he's not that bad.

Warning for blood and injuries, and there will be some implied sexual content in Part 2.

Written for @bloody-no-kissu. Love you friend!

It was, at least, a lovely day for a walk, Luka thought as he wandered through the forest. He touched the pouch at his belt absently, though in this quiet part of the forest he could hear the crystals within clicking softly together as he walked, so he knew he hadn’t lost it. It was a habit, born of one too many incidents where he had to backtrack to find where it had slipped from his belt. 

He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his instrument, and kept walking, listening as he went. It shouldn’t be too hard to find what he needed here; it was early summer, and the growing things were full of life. Luka was picky, though; it was part of what made his wares so highly sought. He’d know when he found the right place, and so he listened, as he walked, and let his intuition lead him. 

A little before noon, he reached a clearing through the trees—more than a clearing, a wide meadow, ringed by the forest trees but covered in grass and flowers. There was a gap in the trees on one side, and a cliff edge beyond where the land dropped away sharply, as if there had been a landslide here sometime in the distant past. Luka emerged into the meadow slowly, head cocked slightly as he listened. 

The earth was strong here, and it was a beautiful place even just on aesthetic level, dotted with flowers in clumps and groups—almost like a garden. Perhaps he had stumbled on the sanctuary of some magical creature of the forest? If so, he was grateful for their work. It was lovely.

It was dotted with large rocks, but one in particular drew him. It was largely flat, but slanted up on one side, and unusually smooth. Luka ran his hand over it thoughtfully. For a rock, it looked like it would make a comfortable seat, and reminded him in fact of the one-armed sofas he sometimes saw in ladies’ parlors. It didn’t look man-made, and didn’t have the feeling of a fey circle, but...Luka looked around the meadow again, and shrugged. Perhaps this was a tended place, but there was no one here now, and he saw none of the markers of ownership that he recognized. 

Well, he could protect himself well enough if someone returned and took offense. Right now, this was perfect for his purposes. He took his gittern from his back and set it down carefully. Then he knelt and drew a crystal from his pouch. He put it down in the moss, making sure it had contact with the earth beneath, and then reclined on the rock, stretching his legs along the length and leaning back against the raised side. Not exactly a lady’s divan, but certainly a more comfortable seat than he often found.

Luka reached and picked up his gittern from where he had set it, and strummed the strings softly, adjusting the tuning. When he was satisfied, he silenced the strings, and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing, taking in the sounds around him, and centering himself in the rock beneath him and the earth beneath that. 

Then he began to play. First, the key tune that helped him fall into trance, and then, as the song of the earth swelled in his soul, he blended his tune with it. It was beautiful here, in this place, full of creation power. He played, separating the tones, the energies, he needed from the larger song, and drawing them up into the crystal resting on the ground, where they swirled lazily, unbothered by their captivity. Good. This place was good, its energies healthy and content, and willing to be coaxed into his keeping. The earth gave up its surplus without complaint, and he smiled. 

He continued playing, even after the crystal was fully charged, just for the sheer joy of it, and the beauty of the earth’s song in this place. 

Gradually, Luka became aware that he was no longer alone, and he opened his eyes. The meadow still seemed empty and still, but there was a new note in the song, and he tilted his head slightly as he listened to it, played alongside it for a time. It clearly belonged here; it meshed seamlessly with the song of this place, and added a richness to the song that Luka hadn’t realized was missing. It was lovely, and it didn’t seem hostile, only...curious. Possibly a little annoyed, a little afraid, but mostly intrigued. Perhaps this was its place, then, where he was intruding. 

“I mean you no harm,” Luka spoke softly, still playing. “It’s only that this place was so lovely, I had to stop here.” 

There was no answer, though surprise trilled at the edges of the song, tainted with a jangle of alarm, and...embarrassment?” That amused him and the corners of his mouth tilted up a little further. 

“You’re welcome to join me, or just stay and listen if you like,” Luka suggested, and closed his eyes again. He fell back into the earth’s song, resisting the temptation to probe the new melody any further. Whatever creature it belonged to, they were intelligent and emotionally aware, so he would respect their privacy unless he sensed malevolent intent. 

It was a lovely melody, though. Perhaps, if the being it belonged to lived nearby, one day they would show themselves, and he could learn more of them. For now, though, he’d best keep his mind to his work. He paused his playing long enough to slip a handful of crystals from his pouch, and lined them up on the ground below his rock seat. Then he sat back, and began to play again, beginning the slow process of charging the crystals. 

***

Marinette had been annoyed at first at finding her territory invaded and even her favorite sunning stone occupied, but the music the human mage made was so beautiful, that her frustration was short-lived. She understood the basics of human magic, but she’d never seen anyone use music to channel it before. She wasn’t upset when he returned a few days later, and came regularly every few days after that. Marinette stayed out of sight, hiding her nature from him, but he always seemed to know she was there, so she didn’t bother with much else in the way of stealth. He always sensed her, but never sought her out. He sometimes spoke to her, inviting her indirectly to show herself to him, but Marinette neither spoke nor ventured out of the shelter of the trees. She didn’t want to frighten him away, and she didn’t want to bring danger on herself. He was human, and a mage, and though she sensed no ill intent from him, it was only prudent to take precautions. 

He always brought a pouch full of crystals of different kinds. Marinette knew that human mages used crystals charged with nature magic to boost their own power, and she could see, or rather... sense, with an unconscious awareness intrinsic to her own magical nature, that he was pulling earth power from her meadow into the crystals. At first she couldn’t imagine why he needed so many, but eventually it occurred to her that this was perhaps how he made his living. That thought was distasteful at first, but he was so careful in the way he siphoned the power of her meadow, so attentive to the balance and never taking too much at once, that she began to reconsider. Better a man like this one, skilled and careful, should take the power and sell it, than clumsy, inattentive, careless mages tear it thoughtlessly from the earth. And he must, after all, find means to live somehow—Marinette herself made trade goods to secure the things she couldn’t make or hunt on her own—and there were many worse professions he could have chosen. 

Marinette had no magic beyond the inherent abilities of her kind, which were largely passive, and she had no use for the energy he took, which replenished itself before his next visit anyway, so she didn’t mind what some creatures might have seen as theft. He was polite and respectful, and paid her in music...and as she became accustomed to his presence, she began to feel he paid her in company as well. She wasn’t sure how someone she had never spoken to could feel like a friend, but she began to realize that her once-perfect meadow felt lonely when he didn’t come. The days when she found a warm, sunny spot in the trees and worked on her embroidery or jewelry while listening to his music began to be be dearer to her than the days when she lounged on her sunning rock in peaceful solitude, staring idly over her empty domain. She hadn’t thought she was bothered by her largely solitary life, being in the stage of her life where it was natural for her to distance herself from the family den, but his presence became welcome as it became familiar. 

As time passed she drew nearer, even slithering up a tree one day to watch him from the branches. She couldn’t venture out too far without being seen—or breaking the branch she rested on—but it gave her a slightly better view of him, his dark hair and angular features and soft eyes with their round human pupils that made him look perpetually surprised or—she blushed a little. He was handsome from the waist up, well-built and cleaner than the human traders she sometimes met with. 

And his legs weren’t... repulsive. They were muscular enough at least, in their own way, though without the sinuous grace and sleek lines of a naga’s tail. 

I’ve been without company too long, she thought with some amusement as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Well, this was also the time of life where she was meant to seek and take a mate, so it wasn’t so unnatural for her to be considering every angle, even if it was idle. She touched the tip of her long tongue to one fang and wondered what he would think of her, if he knew her. Probably whether or not she was beddable would be the last thing on his mind, she thought ruefully, idly scratching a chunk of bark off the tree with one long claw. 

Well, she could still think he was handsome, and if he had been a naga, she would have certainly introduced herself a long time ago. 

 ***

“These are good, Lu,” Juleka said, as he lined the crystals up on the counter in front of her. 

“I found a new spot,” Luka confessed, shaking the last few out of his pouch onto the cloth she’d put out to catch them. She had one in her hand, examining it. “I think some kind of parasite infected the trees at the birch grove, and it needs all its energy to purge the infection, so I figured I’d go looking elsewhere. The new place is strong and someone tends to it, so the energy is more ordered there and easier to work with.” He shrugged as Juleka looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I know, I can’t explain it very well, it’s just how it feels to me.”

“You’re the expert,” Juleka murmured, picking up another crystal. “I think these might fetch a higher price than what we’ve been asking.”

Luka nodded. “Just pay me the usual for now, and if you are able to get more, we can work out the split then.” He smiled at Rose as she brought him a box of fresh, or freshly exhausted, crystals. “Thanks.”  

“Are you being safe, Luka?” Juleka asked suddenly, and both Luka and Rose looked at her.

“Of course,” Luka smiled, and reached over the counter to ruffle her hair. “I wouldn’t make you guys worry over me. It’d taint the spells.” 

Juleka batted his hands away and rolled her eyes, smoothing her long hair back. “It’s just, you said this place is tended. You’d better not be getting on the wrong side of a fey just for stupid power crystals.” 

Luka shook her head. “She’s not fey.”

Both girls raised their eyebrows. “She?” they said in unison, and Luka snorted.

“She’s never shown herself, so I don’t know for sure, but I can sense her lingering nearby. The song feels female to me, so I think of her as a she.” Luka shrugged. “I’ve never sensed anything angry or hostile from her. If she doesn’t like what I’m doing, I assume she’d let me know somehow.” 

Juleka rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t accidentally propose to some smitten fairy or something.” 

Luka laughed, and tilted his head towards Rose, who had wandered back to the corner of the shop she rented from Juleka, and was puttering around arranging her wares while she hummed. She looked very much like a true pixie in that moment with the sun streaming through the windows, gleaming on her golden hair and shining through her pink gauze dress. “I think that’s more likely to happen to you than me.” 

Juleka flushed deeply, dipping her head forward so her hair covered her face. “Get out of here,” she muttered. Luka chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“Love you too, sis,” he winked, before taking his box and making a quick exit, lest Juleka decide to retaliate. 

***

This was a stupid idea, Marinette told herself, but she laid her small package on the rock and quickly hid in the trees. She needn’t have rushed; she was early and she had to frighten away more than one greedy crow before the man made his appearance. It was a stupid idea, and a stupid gift, Marinette scolded herself. It was stupid to give him a gift at all, but she could at least have come up with something better. She sharpened her claws on the dead log she leaned on in frustration as she fretted. It had been a whim, really, to save him a piece of her weekly baking, to leave an offering to thank him for his beautiful songs and his care for the magic of her meadow, but perhaps— 

He stepped out of the trees at the far end of the meadow, and Marinette gasped. It was too late now; she wouldn’t be able to retrieve the gift without being seen, and he was already heading straight towards the rock. 

Marinette slapped a hand over her mouth to keep back the agonized moan that wanted to burst out when he saw the gift and stilled, looking around. For a moment he stood and looked at it, and Marinette ducked her head into her arms. She couldn’t stop watching for long, though, so she peeked out again to see he had untied the package and was now sitting pensively looking at the little loaf of bread she had wrapped in the cloth. After a moment, he took his gittern from his back and prepared to play it. He began with that same tune he always used, like a keyword, she supposed, for the trance he entered to work his magic. Then he played a tune that resonated, not with the earth below her as usual, but against her own being. It made her gasp slightly.  

“Hello friend,” he said in his soft way, with a slight smile. “You seem to have left something behind today. I assume this is yours.” 

Marinette whined softly. How was she supposed to let him know that she’d meant it for him, in thanks for his music?

His head tilted slightly, and he smiled a little more. “A gift? For me? 

For a moment she was stunned. He wasn’t reading her mind, was he? Panic bubbled up.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said quickly. “I will stop if you wish. I only wanted to understand your intentions, and this way you don’t have to speak to me if you don’t want. I’m only…” he hesitated, forehead creasing slightly. “It’s hard to explain, but I can only sense your emotions.” He smiled slightly. “I’m an empath, not a mind reader, and I have to be in at least a light trance to get anything clear.” 

Her fear eased, at that. Empath...that meant feelings, right? She tried to concentrate on gratitude and welcome, and hoped he couldn’t feel her embarrassment too clearly.

His smile widened into something pleased and genuine, rather than the polite expression he’d mostly warm up until now. “Thank you, but...won’t you come out and share it with me?” 

No! She thought desperately. I’m not ready. 

He rocked slightly on his feet. “Do I frighten you so much?” he asked, his tone slightly mournful. 

No, she didn’t fear him, not really. Only...she just wasn’t ready. 

“As you wish,” he sighed, and the touch of his power withdrew as his song faded. He sat down on her rock, and picked up the little loaf of bread and the cloth and set it on his lap. He ate it, slowly and deliberately. “It’s very good,” he said, and Marinette was glad he wasn’t ‘listening’ to her, or whatever he did that let him sense her when he played. She didn’t want him to hear the pleased squeal she was trying to muffle. 

He ate half of the bread, and then took a cloth of his own out of his pack and wrapped up the rest. He put it bread in his pack, and took out his usual handful of crystals, laying them in a line on the ground as he always did. He picked up her cloth, shook the crumbs off of it, and folded it neatly before setting it out of his way. Then he took his usual place, lounging on her sunning rock almost like one of her own kind, and began to play. 

Marinette smiled, and her tight coils relaxed. She circled into a looser, more comfortable arrangement, and rested her arms on her body, picking idly at a bit of shed skin clinging to her pink scales and trying to contain her smile. 

To her delight, he stayed that day even beyond the time it took him to fill his crystals, and began playing something she’d never heard before. Not magic, she realized. It didn’t have the... resonance of the music he played to channel his magic, but it was lovely anyway. The thought that he was playing now solely for her pleasure brought a flush to her cheeks. She smiled, and felt the pressure of her fangs on her lower lip. Her smile dimmed slightly, as she brought a hand to cover her mouth. What kind of thoughts was she entertaining, anyway? He’d certainly be terrified if she showed herself to him, no matter how calm and accepting he seemed now. He surely had to know she wasn’t human or outright fey, but that still left many possibilities, quite a few less dangerous than she. He was soft and unarmored and she had claws and fangs and could easily crush the life out of him without using either. And anyway, what kind of reasoning was he seemed nice for revealing herself unnecessarily to a human—a human mage at that—this close to her lair? 

Not that she had any specific fears, really, it just...seemed unwise. There wasn’t any particular animosity between the two species, it was just that generally humans were annoying and more trouble than they were worth. 

No, better to keep things like this.

But...if he would play for her after a simple loaf of bread, then perhaps she ought to leave more offerings, and see if he would play more of his own music for her. Just...little things, and maybe not every time, but…she would try it, she decided. Her simple little offering clearly made him happy, and she liked that he was happy. She wanted him to keep coming back.

***

Luka was growing more and more intrigued about his mysterious host. She—he was growing more certain it was a she, if her species recognized gender at all—was the keeper of this little meadow, he was sure, but she seemed unbothered by his intrusion, and even grateful for his presence. 

Luka, in turn, was grateful, for of all the places he visited regularly this one was by far the most pleasant to spend time in and the easiest to draw from. It was tempting to come more often, but he didn’t want to overstrain the place or overstep his welcome with his shy observer. 

He was a little embarrassed by the gifts she left him, because to his mind if anyone owed anything, it was he that owed her for not driving him out of her territory, but he was also grateful and flattered that she enjoyed his music so much. He tried to respect her privacy and her desire to remain anonymous, but it was growing harder by the day, his awareness of her song growing as they spent more time together—if you could call it that. 

He wanted so much to meet her, but Luka had no choice but to be patient and wait for her to decide she wanted to meet him. 

***

He was early. Marinette had to dive into the trees when she sensed him coming. She could move quicker than sight when she had to, despite her size, and so she made it under cover before he could catch sight of her. Panting slightly from the fright, Marinette leaned on a tree to watch him, peeping through the leaves.

Something about the way he strode into the meadow bothered her. There was a...tightness about him she couldn’t quite describe, and while he didn’t stomp, he was not stepping as lightly as she was accustomed to seeing. 

He seemed restless, too. He didn’t sit on her rock and play. He picked up the little cake she had left for him, but merely set it down again, dropped his pack and his instrument in a pile next to the rock, and walked restlessly around the meadow.

Marinette drew back in alarm when he passed close to the trees concealing her, but he passed her without even looking in her direction, clearly agitated. Frowning, Marinette followed him at a safe distance, keeping hidden in the trees. The minstrel mage passed the ring of trees that marked the edge of her meadow and over to the cliff beyond, where he stood, looking pensively out over the forest below. 

He shouldn’t walk so close to the cliff, Marinette fretted as she watched from the edge of the trees. It was hard to tell from this side but that overhang wasn’t as sturdy as it looked, and it had rained only a few days ago— 

Even as she thought it, she felt the vibration in the earth, and heard the grinding of earth and loose rocks.

She didn’t even think. She just moved.

***

It all happened so fast that it was over before Luka understood what was happening. There was a rumble and a rush and he was falling, and then excruciating pain in his arm that tore a scream of agony from his throat. 

There was a rush of earth past him, below him, and his legs were dangling in midair; he was dangling, hanging only by the arm that hurt so very, very much. Luka looked up—and for a moment he forgot everything else in his shock. Everything else that happened was a blur, but he would remember the face above him for the rest of his life, he was sure. A woman’s face, pale with fear, fangs peeking from parted lips and blue, slit-pupiled eyes wide and staring. Midnight blue hair tumbled forward over strong shoulders, and one clawed hand gripped the edge of the cliff. 

The other, he realized, was the source of the pain in his arm. Understanding came to him; the cliff had given way beneath him and this woman—creature— being had stopped him from falling, but her long claws had plunged into his wrist. Blood streamed down his arm and dripped on the rocks below. Luka gasped as he looked down. His good hand scrabbled at the cliffside, but he had no claws to grip with, and his fingers crumbled the earth and slid off the rock where he grabbed at it. He kicked his feet, but that made his savior yelp, increased the pain in his arm, and he didn’t find any purchase, so he stilled, gasping and dizzy from the pain.  

Luka cried out in pain and surprise when the grip on his wrist tightened, but he bit down on it as he looked back up. Above him, his rescuer shifted her body a little more, bracing her free arm on an intact part of the cliff, and then heaved, pulling back from the cliff edge and dragging Luka along with her.

It hurt—oh, it hurt, so much that his vision went black for a moment—but Luka was enough in possession of his senses now to realize that he was dangling over a drop that would surely kill him, so he muffled his cries as best he could, and tried not to thrash too much. 

It felt like an eternity before she pulled him up high enough that he could see over the cliff and grab (uselessly) at the grassy top. He almost slipped off again in surprise when he got a full look at his savior. It had been obvious even in his confused state that she was not human, but he was unprepared to find that somewhere around her waist, her human torso tapered into the body of a gigantic serpent. Naga, some part of his brain supplied. No, female, so...nagi. 

She pulled him up a little farther, and when his shoulders had cleared the top of the cliff, she curled a loop of her tail—body? Around in front of him. ��Hold on to me,” she told him, indicating that he should wrap his arms around her serpent body. He did so, clumsily and not very effectively with his wounded arm, but it was enough to keep him secure while she leaned down over the cliff edge again and grabbed his belt on either side of his waist with both hands, using it to haul him the rest of the way over the cliff.

That was not particularly comfortable either, but preferable to more claws in his flesh, and regardless, he was back on solid ground. He crawled on his elbows a little father from the cliff edge and collapsed, panting. After a moment he rolled on his side to look at the nagi. 

She was panting too, and her slit pupils had so blown wide they were almost round in her frightened face. Her expression was stricken as she stared at his blood on her hand, painting the long claws that had pierced his flesh. 

Luka rolled over and got to his knees. It made him dizzy—he’d probably lost a lot of blood. He put his undamaged hand quickly over the wound and began to sing, his voice quick and tight with pain but true. The undamaged hand glowed, and so did the wound. His savior shifted beside him, but Luka had no attention to spare for anything but the healing; it was not a magic that came easily to him, and it was difficult enough to concentrate past the pain and the fear of losing the use of his hand. 

It took longer than it would have taken his sister, but he was able to complete the healing, and when he flexed his hand he found that he had full motion and sensation. He still felt weak and shaky with blood loss and reaction, but all of that would pass. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and turned a smile up at the being who had saved his life. 

“Thank you,” he said warmly. 

She made a distressed sound, still holding her bloodstained hand out as if it didn’t belong to her.  

Luka wrapped his now-healed but still bloody fingers gently around hers. “A broken neck would have been much harder to fix,” he told her gently. “And so I thank you. I had rather lose the use of my hand than my life.” He smiled, tilting his head a little to look up into her face. “And as I have lost neither, there is no need for guilt or grief.” He unhooked his waterskin from his belt, and pulled out the stopper with his teeth. He took her hand again and poured the water over it, rinsing away his blood from both their hands. He would have rinsed her scales too where he had clung to her, but he feared that might be offensive, so he offered her the skin and let her do it herself. 

Some of the tension left her, and she sat back a little, sinking slightly onto her...tail-body. Luka tried not to let his glance become a stare. “Forgive me,” he said, tearing his eyes away and forcing them back up to hers, snake-slitted but so very, very blue. “I’ve never met a nagi before, and I don’t know your customs, so I hope it isn’t very rude to ask your name?” 

She smiled a little, the hint of fangs peeping from between her lips before she caught herself  and tightened the smile to hide them. “It is customary to give yours first, since this is my home,” she said, and Luka was vaguely surprised to hear only a hint of hissing on the sibilants. Prejudice, he scolded himself. 

“I do it gladly. My name is Luka.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. 

Her hand fluttered uncertainly to her chest, and she did the same, dipping slightly awkwardly as she swayed forward on her serpent half rather than bending at the waist as he had. “I am Marinette,” she told him, and then she blushed—a very human reaction that gave Luka an odd little thrill. “I have been listening to your music.” 

“Ah,” Luka nodded in understanding. “It is your song I have been hearing, coming to visit me,” he grinned, and Marinette’s blush deepened. Her tail shifted to coil beneath her, and he glanced down without meaning to, but caught himself quickly. Even so, something about motion spoke of discomfort, and he thought back to the fluctuations in her song when he’d spoken to her in the past. Without the trance he heard only faint echoes of her melody, but he thought he was embarrassing her. “I’m very happy to finally meet you. Thank you for the gifts.” 

Marinette looked away, the fingers of her clawed hands playing nervously across the scales of her tail like a maiden might twist her hands in her lap. “I only wanted to thank you, for your music. It’s...beautiful. I’ve loved hearing you play.”

“I’ve enjoyed having the company,” he told her honestly, and smiled at her look of surprise. “I always play better with an audience, even a shy one.” 

Marinette blushed and covered her face with her hands. Luka found himself reaching to touch her before he thought the better of it. Her arm felt very solid under his hand, but also very human. “Don’t be embarrassed. I truly did enjoy your presence, and I’m not offended that you chose to stay secret. The world is not a safe place, and you didn’t know me.”

“I did know you,” she said quickly, peeking out from her fingers—a sweet, childlike gesture, he would have thought it, though those deadly sharp claws were at odds with the image. “At least, I felt like I did, eventually. I haven’t been afraid of you for a long time.” 

“I shouldn’t think you’d be frightened of much,” Luka teased, tugging a hand away from her face and turning it so her claws shone in the light. “You’re very strong, for which I’m extremely grateful.” He winked at her, and she giggled. 

“You shouldn’t have gone so close to the cliff, especially if it’s rained recently,” she admonished, rising up slightly as her tail uncoiled from beneath her. Before he could blink it shot out like a whip, striking the edge of the cliff. A chunk of earth crumbled beneath the blow and he could hear the rocks rattle down the other side. “It’s not safe. It erodes underneath when the storms come, and then the edge is unstable.” She pointed at the pale purple flowers growing in the grass. “You shouldn’t go beyond where the asters grow.” 

Luka saw now, what he hadn’t before, that they formed a boundary that followed the curve of the cliff, but left a good size border. “I consider myself warned for the future,” Luka observed, shivering a little. Marnette moved closer to him, a hand hovering near his cheek.

“You’re so pale,” she fretted.

Luka sighed, and tried to stand. He swayed and Marinette had to catch him—gently, this time, keeping her claws from his skin. He smiled gratefully at her. Clearly he was going to have to do something about the blood loss, but he couldn’t focus unaided any longer. “I need my gittern,” he told her, and she slipped under his arm, pressing against his side. She raised her body up to a height comfortable for him, and then helped him back towards the meadow.

They found his gittern and pack where he’d left it. Marinette helped him sit on the rock and recline against it as he usually did. She wound around the rock, and hovered over him, pressing his instrument into his hands, her expression still worried. 

“I need to deep trance,” he told her, as he set shaking fingers to the strings and took up the plectrum. “I can sense you in trance as I did before, but I won’t have attention to speak.” He smiled weakly. “Please forgive my rudeness.” He glanced at her through only half-open lids.

Marinette nodded slowly. “Do as you must,” she said, sinking back a little and folding her hands across the bend in her tail that would have been a human lap. “I want you to be well. I want to be sure I haven’t harmed you badly.” 

Luka chuckled. “Lady, you saved my life.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look into hers. “And whatever harm I have taken from it, I consider it a price well paid to have met you at last.” 

Marinette blushed like any human maid, and Luka smiled before settling his head back and strumming the tune that triggered his trance. He fell into the song of the earth then, drawing the power from it that he needed to speed his body’s recovery. 

After a time, he felt the rich tones of Marinette’s presence withdraw, and mourned their loss, but he wasn’t recovered enough to break trance to try and call her back. He was almost finished when her music returned, and he found it more beautiful than ever now that he had the proper context for it. 

When he opened his eyes at last, she was there, resting in a nest of loose coils on the grass near him, and pink tinted her cheeks again when he smiled at her. He sat up slowly, setting the gittern aside, breathing through the slight dizziness he felt once he was upright. It cleared quickly, to his relief. 

“I brought food,” Marinette said a little uncertainly. “I thought you might need it, after...that.” 

“I do,” Luka smiled. “Will you join me this time?” 

She gave a tiny nod and busied herself with the basket sitting next to her, so that he only saw the corner of her smile. Luka had been trying desperately to be polite but now that she was distracted he couldn’t help satisfying his curiosity. Her serpent half, sleek and muscular, was a deep pink, almost red, with darker, splotchy spots down her body. The scales reached to her human waist, and then became patchy as they gave way to human skin—he couldn’t see quite how far up the scales continued, since she wore a vest over her human torso, covering very human curves that he quickly averted his eyes from, not wanting to be caught staring at that any more than at her tail. The vest was pretty, a soft grey edged with pink, laced up the front rather than the back as he was accustomed to seeing on women’s clothes. It was embroidered as prettily as any maiden’s gown, with little flowers along the bottom hems and vines twisting up the front, and fitted very well, moving with her as she bent and swayed in ways that were definitely not human as she arranged a small picnic before him. 

He slid off the stone to sit on the grass instead, though he still leaned back against it. His weakness now was only from the exertion of healing himself, at least; once he had eaten and rested he should be able to stand on his own two feet. 

“...was something wrong?” Marinette asked suddenly, and Luka looked up at her in slight surprise. “When you went to the cliff...you seemed like something was bothering you,” she clarified.

“Oh, that.” Luka chuckled, taking another bite of his honeyed bread before he answered. “I was upset,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his own cheeks, “but, ah...after the events of this morning, I’m finding my perspective has been altered a bit.” He grinned at her, and she giggled. “Now it hardly seems worth talking about. I’d much rather hear about you. You made this place?” He gestured at the meadow garden. “It’s beautiful, and the care you put into it shows.” 

“Thank you,” Marinette said, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear—her ear was pointed, he realized, and told himself not to stare.  “Eat,” she said, nudging a plate to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything fresh, but…anyway, you should eat.” 

Luka tucked in to the smoked meat and bread gratefully, needing the fuel. Marinette only nibbled a piece of bread, watching him with quick glances. Luka’s subconscious had apparently been at work while he was in trance, and all the observations, all of the things he had sensed from her over the past few months, fell into place, and even though she was clearly not quite comfortable being in the open with him yet, she didn’t feel at all like a stranger. 

By the time he felt able to attempt the trip home, the sun was setting. No sooner had he gotten to his feet, though, than Marinette had risen up beside him and taken his arm in a careful grip. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said decisively. 

“That’s not necessary,” Luka told her, frowning. “I can make it on my own. You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want you to risk yourself.

Marinette snorted. “There is nothing in this forest I need fear. You, on the other hand, are screaming prey right now.”

Luka winced. “I can protect myself.”

“If I am with you, you won’t have to,” Marinette said firmly. “Nothing in this forest will come near you while I am with you. There’s no point in arguing, because you can’t stop me, anyway.” 

Luka had to admit that was true, so he might as well be gracious about it. “Thank you,” he told her, and they started off on their journey.

Luka had good reason to be grateful by the time they reached the edge of the forest. He might have made it home without Marinette but it would have taken him a long time. The slightest obstacle was too much for him and without her support he would have had to stop and rest more often than he did. 

At the edge of the forest, though, he begged her to turn back. It was an easy walk from here, and not so great a distance, and knowing how careful she was, he didn’t want her to reveal herself without need. 

Marinette lost a bit of her bravado as she looked toward the human settlement in the distance, and reluctantly agreed. 

“It may be longer than usual before I can come again,” Luka admitted with a tired smile. “That is, if I would be welcome.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly. “You never asked before,” she chided, but she didn’t sound very stern, and she didn’t let go of his arm.

“I didn’t know you before,” Luka reminded her. “I might push the goodwill of a stranger, but I would never trespass on the privacy of a friend.” 

Marinette looked away for a moment, and then laid her other hand on his arm. “A friend is never unwelcome,” she said at last, meeting his eyes, and when he smiled, she smiled back. 

“Then I will come as soon as I am able,” he said, laying his hand over hers. “Thank you for everything, Marinette.” He lifted her clawed hand carefully and kissed her knuckles lightly. 

She drew her hands back slowly and wrapped her arms around herself. “Be safe, Luka.” She turned quickly and disappeared back into the forest. Luka stood a moment longer, and then sighed, turning to make his own way home, where he was duly fussed over and scolded by his family for his late return and weakened state. 

At his request, the next day Juleka brought home every book she could find that mentioned nagas at all. 

***

She checked the meadow every day, even though he had said it would be some time before he could come again. She even started through the forest, more than once, to go and check on him herself. That was silly, though, since all she would have been able to do was hover at the edge of the forest, and the only way she would see him would be if he was coming to her anyway.

Not to her. He wasn’t coming to her, but to this place, but those two things now essentially meant the same thing, now that he knew of her. She settled for spending as much time in her meadow as possible, which wasn’t such a change from her usual routine anyway. Her lair was cozy but her meadow was the best place for sun and fresh air and the inspiration of nature’s beauty. 

Somehow, though, she got a lot less done than usual, unaware how often she interrupted her work to look in the direction that he would come, or to sigh and try to figure out how many days would reasonably pass before he would return.

***

Luka made his way to the meadow the first day that Juleka let him out of the house. Fully recovered now, he made his way to the meadow with none of the woolgathering and leisurely strolling that he usually engaged in. 

He could see her even before he stepped out of the trees, draped over the large couchlike stone in such a natural way that he couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t guessed her nature before this. Of course the rock was worn smooth, scraped daily by her scales, and wasn’t she beautiful, gleaming in the sun. She was half-asleep, fangs peeping through her lips as she smiled at some idle, sleepy thought. 

Luka thought to find a seat on the grass and perhaps play something soft, but Marinette woke before he had taken many steps into the meadow. 

“Oh,” she said, raising herself with a close-lipped smile. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for you, and the sun felt so good.” She stretched luxuriantly, and he watched in fascination the rippling motion that traveled the length of her body. 

Then what she said clicked in his mind. “You were waiting for me?” She hadn’t known when he would come. He hadn’t known, since he had wanted to come two days ago and Juleka threatened to tie him to his bed if he even hinted at doing any such thing. Surely she didn’t mean...she had been waiting for him all this time?

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she blushed, and Luka had the distinct impression that she hadn’t intended to admit that. “Oh, well,” she waved her hand as if it meant nothing, and slid down from the stone to slither towards him. “You know I’m here, and now you know what I am, so…” She shrugged those strong shoulders, coiling her body beneath her. “It seemed silly to hide any longer. Unless you’d rather I leave you to concentrate.” 

That wasn’t really an answer, but Luka let it go. “I would hardly kick you out of your own garden,” he laughed, indicating the meadow with a wave of his hand. “If you don’t mind my presence, then I would be glad for your company.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” she said, looking him over critically. 

“Thanks to you, and my mother-hen of a sister,” Luka chuckled. “Who kept me in bed at least two days longer than I wanted to be, despite complaining that I was ruining her business for the month by lounging in bed instead of working.” He grinned at her, leaning in slightly. “I’m afraid I may have to stay a little longer than usual today to make up for it.” 

The way her face lit up set his heart racing, before she composed herself and said, “Well, then I had best not keep you any longer.” She glided over to a basket under a nearby tree and took what looked like an embroidery hoop out of it, before looking back at him and raising her eyebrows. 

Chuckling, Luka went to the rock she had abandoned and readied himself as usual. Except now his seat was warmed from her body resting there, and he could look across the meadow at Marinette somehow working her embroidery despite her claws, and she could look up and meet his gaze.

And when he sank into the song, hers was there alongside it, vibrant and beautiful, still shy, but beautiful in its happiness. It seemed to resonate with his own, and it took effort not to follow it, to touch it and sense all that she was feeling.

Luka focused his mind on his work as best he could, and whenever paused to switch the crystals and opened his eyes, Marinette was there, as lovely as her melody, strong and fearsome, ten feet of muscle and grace that took his breath away, sweetly working on her own strangely domestic projects. When she sensed his eyes on her, she looked up to meet them with a small smile. 

When he finished his work, he played for her as had become his habit, though it was growing late and he would need to leave soon. Marinette put down her work and came to circle the stone where he sat, propping her chin on her arms as she looked up at him. 

At last, Luka had to pack up his things with a sigh and an apologetic smile. 

“You will come again?” she asked casually. 

“With your permission,” he replied, and she snorted.

“You always have that,” she said, and then blushed, ducking her head beneath her arms.

“Marinette,” he said, and she took her head from her arms, sitting up and lifting her body a little to look at him. “Will you smile at me?” he asked, impulsively. “For real?” 

Marinette put a hand over her mouth, looking distressed, and Luka shook his head slightly, smiling fondly. “Don’t hide who you are, especially if you do it for my comfort,” he told her gently. “I’m not frightened of you, no matter how fearsome your strength or your claws—or your fangs. You are lovely as it is, and I assure your smile will not make me think you less so.”

That crimson shade he was quickly coming to love spread over her cheeks, and though she was clearly fighting it, she did smile fully at him, for just a moment, before looking down at her hands. 

Impulsively, Luka put his fingers under her chin and lifted it back up to look at him, but he quickly drew his hand back, afraid he had overstepped. “Much better,” he said as casually as he could manage, sitting back, his stomach suddenly full of butterflies.

He got another glimpse of Marinette’s full, fanged smile, before she looked away shyly. Luka sighed to himself.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

[lisinfleur]

Buble Gum, Time is fun!

The request:

Author’s Notes | Two of my favorite things reunited: Sigurd and time travel plots! I love it! I decided to post it like this, because you said you liked it how it is, love. But I’ll probably use this request later for a bigger work! It really has potential! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x Reader Info | Time Travel plot, Viking Age AU, Modern AU, prepared for the Patron’s Holiday Event Words | 3706 ⁑ Warnings: Cursing a lot.

Damn foggy night.

Damn stupid idea of accepting your co-worker's invitation into his house for a Christmas celebration!

Of course, you should've noticed his intentions! Of course, he was luring you into a trap!

What were you thinking? Ivan had tried to lure you into going out with him through the whole year! How could you think he was serious about a party with his family?

In the end, it was just a lie to "finally get some time alone with you, pretty..." Oh, GOD! You hated so much his stupid way to make that word sound doughy in his voice!

And there you were, walking away from his house, all alone on Christmas' Eve - because OF COURSE, he refused to drive you home since you wouldn't give him a chance... Asshole.

The problem is: it was easy to reach his cottage exactly because he was driving the 4x4 through the woods to take you there. On foot, the trail would surely allow you to see Santa Claus' reindeer flying through the sky, going away and coming back home before you were able to finish that God damn way!

"Wonderful!" you cursed when your eyes found a bifurcation and the plaque that should indicate the way was broken, leaving you without a choice but betting which way would take you down, back to the town, which would take you deeper inside those woods into some wolf lair or something like this.

With your luck?

You would end up frozen in the middle of that stupid fog!

Walking into that fog, you caught yourself thinking. Sadness taking your heart... If you weren't all alone... If your family wasn't a bunch of assholes like Ivan... Perhaps you wouldn't have accepted his invitation. Maybe you would be celebrating with her instead of all alone, lost in those woods.

Where was the trail?

"Oh, crap!" you cursed, looking around, trying to find yourself again, anything but trees that could serve for you to locate yourself.

Your heart clenching inside your chest.

If you were to disappear that night... Who would miss you?

Damn Ivan! It would be perfect to know he would probably be arrested since you were last seen entering his car but you didn't want to disappear!

Even less into those woods!

"Shit... Shit shit shit!" You cursed.

Your feet, lost, stumbled on some roots and you fell straight to the ground, rolling down a small hill and hitting your head against a tree.

You weren't sure, but you saw a silhouette right before everything blanked out.

You remember you thought it was better to freeze in those woods than being found by Ivan in that place.

You couldn't precise how long did you blank out. But it was warm when you woke up. There was some strange cloak over your body, with a marine perfume that resembled the sea right after the dawn, or the dew evaporating on the first hours of the mourning.

"You woke up," a strange voice, kinda hoarse, with a heavy accent spoke to you.

And you turned yourself to see a blonde man sitting near a fire, noticing you were somehow into a cabin. A pretty rustic one! He was shoving the pieces of wood into the fire, making it warmer. But his clothes were so strange!

You could bet they were handmade!

He was dressed beautifully, like those medieval peasants from old Scandinavia. His hair had braids with leather straps decorating it and beautiful curls you couldn't stop yourself from admiring.

You sat, observing the beautiful handmade embroidery of the cloak over your body. That man wasn't a peasant. Such beautiful work wouldn't be made for someone that wasn't noble.

But why the fuck was he dressed like that?

"My head is aching..." you mumbled.

"You must've hit it against the tree I found you near. Your clothes are strange... Too thin for the cold. What is your name?" he asked with that strange accent, coming closer to sit beside the fur you were laid upon.

Too thin for the cold?? Those were your best warm trousers!

"I'm Y/N," you answered, confused. "Excuse me, but where am I?"

Everything around was so realistically rustic! You felt like waking up into a movie!

"This cabin is mine," he answered, "A small secret place I use as a refuge when I don't want my brothers to find me. I'm Sigurd, son of Ragnar Loðbrók. You must've known about my father." he sighed.

Sounding so genuíne for someone who was speaking, for sure, a scripted line for any stupid theatrical spectacle that was - for some reason - including your dizzy self. Right?

Cause there was no living way for you to be speaking to a son of THE Ragnar Loðbrók he was talking about. No-living-way!

You chuckled, looking at him.

"Fine... You're pretty good, for real. But I'm seriously lost here and... Can we leave the characters behind for a moment and give me some real information?" you said, looking at him "I'm lost for real, you know? I got lost in the woods while fleeing from a night into the house of the biggest asshole I've ever known in my whole life, so... Could you be gentle to me and tell me how I can reach the town so I can take a bus and go back home?"

The more you spoke, the stranger was the frown in that man's face.

"What is a bus?" he asked, looking at you as if that wasn't the most absurd nonsense someone could ask you at all!

"O-k... A persistent actor uh? So... Let us do it your way, ok? I need to go back to the town, uh? Where can I find a... a chariot?" you tried.

"You must've hit your head too hard... Come. I have a horse outside, I'll take you back to the village, but I suggest you visit a healer," he said.

Genuinely looking as confused as you were.

You got up, looking around. It was really a small cabin, seeming to be handmade as well, for a single person. Maybe you just invaded some kind of fantasy for him or anything, you thought. But the horse outside his door was pretty real.

"Fuck," you mumbled.

He really had a horse. And you would really go back home... In-a-freaking-horse. How the heck could that night become stranger?

Never doubt life.

It can ALWAYS overwhelm your expectations.

"What in the actual fuck?" your mouth mumbled when his horse reached the streets of what was an entire Scandinavian village. "Is this a joke? What kind of... Look, Sigurd uh?" you said, looking back at him from upon your shoulder as he guided the horse forward into that village.

A lot of other people like him were finishing putting things inside, the houses were decorated. It was Christmas night in that place as well... But how the heck?

"I need to go to the real town. Like, the real one! Not this scenographic thing for whatever you guys are filming ok? I need to go back to Kattegat!" you insisted.

Just to see his frown becoming even bigger.

"Woman, what is your problem? We ARE in Kattegat!" he said, convict.

"Then take me to the bay!" you demanded, almost as a touché.

They would never be able to reproduce the bay perfectly! It was a beautiful natural arch of mountains where the sea would make a pool, almost a beautiful natural circle of water you saw yourself stunned looking at a few moments after your ask.

"You see? We are in Kattegat, woman. I'm Sigurd, son of Ragnar, fourth among the princes of this place. And I demand you to visit a healer right now!" he said, full of himself.

But you'd barely heard his voice.

Your heart was pounding, your ears were throbbing along with your whole head. How the fuck was you standing in Kattegat's bay?

How in the actual fuck was that place a Scandinavian village again?

How hard did you hit your head?

"Be patient, son of Ragnar," a hoarse voice came out of nowhere and you turned yourself too quick, falling at the sand, afraid of that black-cloaked figure that looked at the two of you - and seemed not to scare Sigurd at all! "A strange thing happened and sometimes it happens, indeed..."

"Who are you? Where am I?" you asked, fully scared.

But that burned man looked at you calmly. You could feel he was looking at me although he had no eyes.

"The correct question would be when are you, Y/N, future’s child. You are where you think you are. You are in Kattegat such as he was. Time is not what you think it is."

Your heart started racing.

If what he was saying was real then you were far away from home now!

"But if you were to disappear tonight, who would miss you?"

That sentence in his hoarse voice seemed to shock both of you, you and Sigurd, cause you could see the same surprised expression in Sigurd's eyes as well.

"Time is a spiral... It swirls and swirls and sometimes its rounds touch each other. Two thought like one, two desired like one. One was heard by the night and its mysteries," that burnt man continued. "You shall be back to your time, back to your life, when the night is over and the magic with it. Unless your desire to come back is not strong enough to take you out of here," he said, starting to walk away.

Leaving you at that beach, sitting on the sand, almost panicking.

"So... You came because of my desire?" Sigurd mumbled, breaking the silence first.

And you looked at him.

"He said... Two thought like one. What were you thinking, Sigurd?" you asked, trying to rationalize.

To avoid freaking out.

"I didn't want to be home with Ivar being the usual spoiled brat he always is.  But I didn't want to be alone... After all, it's Yule."

After all, it was Christmas...

"It makes sense..." you mumbled. "I didn't want to be with Ivan... But did not want to be alone either."

Sigurd crossed his arms, sighing. And you looked at him with your heart clenching. Maybe he was as lonely as you were. And if it was strong enough to throw you into that situation then... Then why not?

It would be over in the morning.

"We could keep each other company..." You suggested.

"Then none of us would be alone." Sigurd completed. "Come. It's cold here... I have some food in my cabin we could share and you can tell me about this future you come from." he said, extending his hand for you to get up.

Sigurd didn't seem to be a bad guy at all. And what choice did you have, anyway?

He walked you back to that cabin, pulling the horse by its reins but walking beside you at a slow pace. It wasn't such a short path, so you had some time to know each other properly. The craziest it was sounding; Sigurd was indeed a Viking prince who definitely sounded like everything but a Viking. Whether your time's acknowledgment of his kind was awfully wrong or he was something different from the barbarian raiders his mutuals were described to be.

Instead, Sigurd was gentle, helping a total stranger he found wounded in the forest, taking you inside his cabin, ensuring you would be warm and cared for. He lighted a campfire in front of the cabin where he placed a piece of meat to roast intending to divide what was supposed to be enough for himself with you, and you noticed he just didn't ask for his cloak back - somehow he was really apprehensive about how cold it was for your "thin clothes".

Sigurd's presence was completely different from Ivan's and despite being a total stranger for you, soon it became more comfortable than having your co-worker you worked with for a whole year beside you.

To be honest? It was better. Way better.

Sigurd's curiosity about your shoes was funny, his surprise seeing your elastic hair tie was the most innocent and sweet thing you've ever seen and you could laugh for hours at his funny face when the thing escaped his hand being shot against his nose.

When you started talking about your time's music, he entered the cabin and brought back some kind of guitar he called an oud and played for you some amazing songs you wish you didn't have lost your cell phone so you could record to hear again later.

When he wouldn't be there to play...

For a moment, that sensation made you think about your loneliness and how it had just vanished with Sigurd's presence there. His gentleness was able to make you forget completely you weren't in your time and even more, that you were alone.

The two of you shared the food he made and when the night became colder he made the fire higher to warm the two of you as you sat at the door of his cabin, looking up to the sky.

So much more stars!

"The sky is not this beautiful where I come from," you said.

"Did the stars fall from the sky?" he asked, looking at you.

Making you smile with that sweet innocence he seemed to have.

"No. There are too many artificial lights. The night is not dark enough for us to see them all..." you explained.

"Your time seems to be amazing, but at the same time, it seems colder," Sigurd said, looking up once again.

Silence landing between the two of you like a solid wall his voice broke once again.

"I'll miss you, Y/N. When you go home, I'll miss having you here."

You thought about your lonely life. It would be so good to have the chance to stay... But at the same time, you were so far away from your time! And you couldn't just be impulsive and stay in a place and time you barely knew just out of your need for company... You would come back at the end of that night, you knew that. But your heart would be broken.

"I'll miss you too..." you mumbled.

Feeling when something touched your hand, looking to see Sigurd was messing with a leather strip around your wrist.

"What is this?" you asked when he finished, showing you the wooden beads with runes he had tied to your arm.

Lifting your eyes, you could see one of his braids was undone: he had turned the leather strip from his hair along with his beads into a bracelet for you.

"A gift, so you can remind me," he said, "A Yule gift."

You smiled with tenderness looking at that loving gift. Nothing was ever so sweet in your life.

You would miss him so hard...

You weren't as good as he was with the crafting, but you took off your necklace - a golden chain with a small butterfly pendant - And you placed it on his neck, watching as he touched the delicate piece.

"A Yule gift," you repeated, smiling at him.

Feeling his fingers touching and caressing your face.

Silence was made as you laid your head on his shoulder. There was nothing to be said anymore. You wanted his embrace around you. He wanted you to stay forever.

Both of you woke up alone the next morning...

The magic of that strange night was gone when you woke up sitting against the tree you had fallen near the previous night. You lifted your hand to touch your head searching for any kind of wound, thinking that the whole night could've been a dream.

But something was weighing on your hand and your eyes filled with tears when you saw the leather strap with his beads there. You touched your neck, your necklace was gone.

It was real.

He was real!

And now it was gone...

You found out you had fallen out of the way and into the woods some few meters before reaching the road. You went back home with that knot on your throat.

You searched for anything about his story just to find out Sigurd had died one thousand years ago, murdered by his own brother's ax.

The following days made no sense for you. Everything was missing color. You wanted to cry every time your eyes would look at the beads on your wrist. You never took that bracelet off.

When the third night came, you decided: You had to change that! You had to go back, to find a way to make his fate different.

To be with him once again.

But how?

The following days you passed searching for any information, finding anything that could help you, getting yourself more and more despaired with the hopelessness of that journey. When New Year's Eve came, you made your last try...

You came back to those woods, you went away from the trail, you tried to find the ruins of his cabin or that location. But all you could find were some stones placed in a specific way that could resemble that house.

You sat in the middle of it and you felt the tears pouring down your face. Your fingers caressing the leather strip on your wrist.

"You were such a gentle man... Such a sweet company. You killed my loneliness and... And you found such a terrible fate," you cried, thinking about him, the sweet smiles you exchanged, his laughs from that night.

"I wish so bad I could change it... I wish so bad I could come back one more time..." you closed your eyes, lowering your head.

"It's a one-way trip this time. And you know you can't change the cycle of life. He will die. You will die. Each must die someday," the hoarse voice of that burnt man you knew now was the Seer from his time invaded your ears, startling you up.

If he could be there, then...

You could come back.

"But I can make it different!" you said, looking up to see the black-cloaked figure standing where it was supposed to be the door of that cabin.

"What if you can't?" he asked, looking at you.

"I can!" you yelled, getting up.

"What if you can't, woman?" he repeated.

Remembering you maybe Sigurd's fate wasn't changeable...

Maybe you would go back just to lose him that awful way.

"Then I can make his life different," you mumbled, looking at the Seer. "Then I can send his loneliness away. And kill mine. And make it better as long as he lives."

"Cross the line... And find your fate. Time won't touch itself once again. Don't look back, future's child. Everything forward is lost for you now."

With his scepter, he traced a perfect line on the ground from one stone to another at the entrance of the cabin's ruins, turning his back to you and vanishing in the middle of the trees.

You swallowed dry.

You could just jump the stones and go back to your life.

But time wouldn't touch itself again, he said.

You could cross that line and everything you knew would be lost.

But who would miss you anyway?

You touched the leather bracelet on your arm and took a deep breath, walking forward and crossing the line without thinking any longer. And then... His voice filled your ears...

"... and I don't know where or when you are now. But I wish you were here. It would be good if time could swirl that strange way one more time."

Your eyes caught Sigurd's figure sitting beside a campfire. Almost the same scene from the Yule night you spent together. Except, you weren't there, and his hands were messing with the necklace you gave to him, tenderly caressing the pendant. He missed you. He wanted you back.

And it filled your heart with love to think someone would care.

He cared.

"Maybe two thought like one once again," you mumbled from the door, startling him, watching as he jumped up, standing to look at you, first scared, then, with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen on someone's face.

"Y/N!"

Sigurd came closer, without a warning pulling you into his embrace. Such a tight embrace, so full of that feeling only he was able to make you feel!

You embraced him back, maybe as tight as he was embracing you. And Sigurd cupped your face, touching your foreheads.

"You came back... I wanted so hard to see you again!"

You went on your tiptoes, following the will of your heart, and touched his lips with yours, surprising Sigurd with a gentle and loving kiss, full of that need you had inside your heart to change his life. To make his fate different.

"Y/N?" he mumbled your name when the kiss was over.

Looking at you full of doubt in his eyes.

But you caressed his face gently, smiling at him.

"I came back for you, Sigurd. For you..."

His tone changed as you felt his hands gently pulling you closer. His forehead touched yours and you saw as he sighed, almost in relief, nuzzling his nose to yours.

"You took my heart with you when you left..."

He felt the same. That need, that sensation you were everything he needed and he had lost it. Sigurd fell in love with you as well. And it was good for him to notice he wasn’t alone.

"Tell me you'll stay this time." He asked.

"I'll stay," you answered, nestling your face against his neck, hiding into his embrace. "I'll stay, my prince."

"That's good..." he mumbled, kissing your hair, embracing you tighter. "That's good, my love."

You knew everything you ever knew was lost for you now and you would've to learn everything about life in his way. You knew you could lose him not far from that day. But you would fight to change his fate and if you had to lose him then, at least, you could say you loved him till the end.

And Sigurd loved you back. Like anyone else before.

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[cherrywoes]

ii. the girl in the foxes' den.

chapter two. heads for pikes.

The orphanage was a quaint little thing just on the borders of Shiratorizawa. Surrounded by a small lake dotted with water lilies, lily pads, and other winter resistant flowers that were the staple of your kingdom, it was perhaps the epitome of homeliness—what your brother aspired for the rest of his kingdom during his reign, a peacefulness that couldn’t be broken.

You had played at the lake as children, of course, when your father would sneak the both of you out of your mother’s insufferable tutoring lessons to mingle with the common folk. “To grow and learn,” he had said, but all you had learned was that people only believed in themselves, lived for themselves, and died for themselves. With the exception of Wakatoshi, maybe, you knew that the commoners were just as cutthroat as any other noble; just as worse, perhaps, or more so. You’d witnessed people, more than once, slit throats over the barest crumb of bread, and there was plenty to go around—and that was just amongst nobles.

Shiratorizawa prided itself upon strength and superiority, but that could only get you so far when you couldn’t even trust your neighbors not to stab you in the back.

“Wakatoshi can change that,” you mumbled to yourself. The smell of horse sweat, tangy and distinctly equine, assailed your nostrils; a comforting smell, despite how unappealing it sounded. You’d spent most of your life training or riding horses, after all, and paid quite a lot of attention to them when you weren’t busy wrangling disrespectful court women. Your mare nickered softly the closer you drew to the orphanage, where a singular crowd of children and a nun stood waiting for you to go to them. “Is it just me, or are there more orphans than before? Goshiki?”

The Elite Knight in question swallowed and swerved his head to pay attention to you. He, and another Knight, Semi Eita, had caught up to you as you were exiting the main wall that separated the main city from the palace. You recognized them as Wakatoshi’s close friends, nobles sworn into his personal circle after he was crowned King. They were never far from your brother’s side, so you had to wonder why he left them behind when he could have taken them with him. Tendou was far from the most physically capable man; his eagle form was much more sturdy in terms of battle.

“It makes sense,” Semi said instead, before Goshiki could stutter out an answer. He, like Goshiki, wore the same purple-tinged armor and sweeping crushed velvet cape. You’d found the whole ensemble ridiculous, right down to the plumage on their helms, but Wakatoshi was a stickler for tradition, at least in the uniform’s sense. “A lot of the commoners have come down with a sickness lately. Tracking down the source has been a pain; a lot of them died before we could get to them with a healer in time.”

You frowned, a distinct line on your face. Wakatoshi had always said you had a very foreboding frown, whatever that meant. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Semi shrugged. You were tempted to kick him off his horse and drag him down into the grass to strangle him for shrugging at you. You didn’t know what Wakatoshi let him get away with, but you hated people you weren’t close with acting casual towards you. It was one of your worst pet peeves, besides girls trying to play Queen, and you were sure your glare was enough to smelt steel if you tried hard enough.

“It wasn’t your place then,” he explained, tugging the reigns to veer around a slab of stone depicting the orphanage’s name. “King Ushijima was adamant that you have no part in it so as to prevent you from catching the illness.”

“And?” With a huff and a subtle side-eye, you watched him move back into place at your flank, staring straight ahead and cleverly avoiding your gaze. “Illness is no issue for me. I am an Ushijima—I don’t get sick.”

And that was true; besides small sicknesses like seasonal allergies or colds, you were invulnerable to everything else. Even poisons, to an extent, as long as they were ones you had been exposed to previously in small amounts. Though you hadn’t gained your eagle form just yet, you had the immunity of a shifter, which your brother found endlessly perplexing. You were grateful for it: it kept you from dying so easily at the hands of an assassin, if it ever came to that. You had been trained well enough to be a deadly opponent since you couldn’t shift, not that anyone except Wakatoshi and your mother knew that. The nobles would have heart attacks if they knew their princess could disarm a man faster than she could finish a single stitch of embroidery.

“He didn’t want to risk it, my lady.” Semi reached up and adjusted the pin of his cloak from poking into the gap between his chain mail and pauldron. “That’s all.”

Your lips drew into a thin line, but you quickly found yourself without time to retort as children swarmed your mare. You squeezed your legs against her sides in warning and carefully dismounted, narrowly avoiding swinging your boot into a poor child’s head when he refused to move out of your way. Goshiki took your hand to allow you to get to the ground without falling and you gave him a grateful nod when another child went straight for your knees to grab ahold of you.

“Children!” The nun scolded, bustling forward with a shiny red face. Her robes looked particularly suffocating in the heat as she began rerouting them all into the tiny group that had been around her previously, giving each one a specific and deliberate warning that perhaps went over deaf ears. She looked at you, an apology in her eyes, although it was eclipsed by the intense dislikement that came from your presence specifically. “Crown Princess [Name]. I was not aware of your visit until early this morning. I’m afraid we aren’t prepared for you at this time.”

You smiled bitterly. You had expected this, of course; nuns, specifically this nun, had an extreme hatred for you whether you were kind to them or not. It all stemmed from one little fact: you were not your mother. They saw you as weak, as prime pickings when Wakatoshi was away. It was a common perception, the same one you had concocted with your brother, and while you were keen on keeping it up for the time being, it didn’t mean you didn’t feel some measure of irritation at being unable to freely express yourself around others. Because you played the docile, meek princess locked away in the castle, you had no true way of earning power except through deception. And that was what you had intended—there was more power in the dark than the light.

“That’s quite alright,” you replied soothingly, using the sweetest tone you could muster. You opened your saddlebag and produced a bag of gold—ones, ironically, with your face on them to be petty—to hand over to the nun. She looked at you questioningly, the weight heavier than she was used to getting from you or any royal, and squeezed the pouch thoughtfully. “To buy the children new clothes for the upcoming winter—extra for more food, since there are more than before, I hear?”

“Yes, your majesty.” The woman tucked the pouch away into her robes. You made a mental note to tell the local seamstress and hunters to make sure she only bought furs and shoes for the children—you didn’t trust anyone in positions of religious institutions as far as you could throw them. And that wasn’t very far. “Is there anything… else you needed?”

“No. I came to—” Your eyes caught on a woman lingering at the edge of the crowd of children, dressed in rags. She was fairly petite, blonde of hair, and looked completely out of place in Shiratorizawa as a whole, where brown hair and black hair was most common. She stuck out as much as Tendou did with his red hair. “Who is that?”

The nun turned to see who you were looking at. You were surprised to see disgust crawl over her features, more potent than if it had been aimed at you. “Oh, that’s a refugee from Karasuno—the neighboring Empire to Nekoma. She says while the King and his advisor are away, some other kingdom stormed their castle, raided their lands, and now hold their capital ransom until King Sawamura returns.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Wakatoshi’s aides hadn’t notified you of this. And judging by the alarmed looks on Semi and Goshiki’s faces, they hadn’t known either, which meant this was a very recent occupation, or someone had swept under their noses, past their borders, and invaded Karasuno without so much as a warning. And any kingdom who could be that discreet, that sly, was worth keeping a very close eye on.

“I see.” You forced your features to be more sympathetic, bringing your hand up to your cheek in faux thought. You might have even tried to cry if it wouldn’t have seemed so fake. “Well, she can’t just stay at the orphanage—what is her name?”

The nun shrugged, disgruntled, and waved for the woman. “You! Come here.”

The blonde haired woman startled, looking towards them with wide eyes. Her gaze darted between Semi and Goshiki with their armor and then finally settled on you, dressed less than princess-like, and the tiara on your head that you’d thrown on when you found it in your saddlebag before you left. It was, luckily, made with black pearls and onyx, so it fit well with your outfit and didn’t look too out of place.

“Your majesty,” she whispered when she drew near enough. Her feet were calloused from miles of walking, raw from running over craggy peaks and sharp cliff faces that separated Karasuno from Shiratorizawa, a feat in its own right. Blood still seeped from open cracks in her heels and dripped into the sand, turning it a deep red. Though her face was dirty, smeared with dirt and dried mud that hadn’t been cleaned, she was pretty underneath it all—and very clearly of some nobility. Her features were too aristocratic to be anything else, a bastard maybe, but clearly noble. When she curtsied, you noted the practiced ease and near perfect posture even with infected wounds and wounded feet. “I apologize for my appearance—”

“No need.” You held up your hands and reached over to straighten her. Gravel rolled beneath her heels and she shifted, sending a waft of sweat, days old blood, and what you could barely say was stale perfume towards you. You had to blink to keep your eyes from watering at the pungent scent; so as not to humiliate her, you smiled, though you had a hard time blinking the water from your eyes. “You are nobility, yes?”

The nun looked over, alarmed, but the girl was already nodding her head in a reluctant affirmative.

You stepped back and between Semi and Goshiki in thought. Her presence could easily be taken as an offense; she was here without invitation, despite her empire being occupied, and living in squalor at the orphanage, unbecoming of a noble, especially a woman. But she could also be a valuable asset: she was a well of knowledge about Karasuno and the current political situation. If you could wheedle enough information out of her, you would be able to yank Karasuno right out from under the invaders’ noses and instill Shiratorizawa rule, but you knew it wouldn’t be that easy—there was an edge in her gaze that spoke of a cleverness. She wouldn’t release her secrets so easily.

“Well, then.” You scanned her up and down and pursed your lips. “We can’t leave you here, Lady…?”

“Yachi.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Yachi Hitoka.”

“Yachi Hitoka,” you amended, the name foreign on your tongue but vaguely familiar. A family name you had heard before, perhaps in your studies. You would make sure to crack open the records whenever you returned back to the palace. “You can’t stay here. Return with me to the palace and we’ll see to getting you a bath and some food… Unless you would rather stay here?”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Yachi’s voice was quiet, but there was gratitude there—step one complete.

You smiled and turned to your horse. Semi knelt down and allowed you to step into his hands to settle your leg over the saddle, hooking your foot in the stirrup when you were settled. The mare tossed her head with a snort, eager to get going, and you patted her neck gently. You jerked your head towards Goshiki—the one least likely to say something rude about her smell—when you spoke to Yachi again. “You’ll ride with Goshiki. His horse is the gentlest, which will be better on your wounds in the long run. I wouldn’t want you to rip open the ones that have already healed.”

Yachi nodded. “Thank you, your majesty.”

You waited for her to mount with the help of Goshiki, watching as she struggled to support herself on hurt feet. He allowed her to sit in front of him rather than behind, even though, to your amusement, it made his face burn a bright red, so she wouldn’t fall off as easily. Semi snorted beside you at his babbled explanation and Yachi seemed to notice, her face flushing—you wondered if she also had a fever—and dropped her head to avoid your gaze.

You turned your head and nodded to the nun in silent farewell, turning your horse and heading back the way you came. You tried to keep quiet, to not pester her with questions, but your curiosity won out.

“So, Lady Yachi,” you called, looking over at her from your horse,”what banners did these… invaders fly with their troops?”

She looked uncomfortable at the memory, but answered,”None, your majesty. A banner with a black field was all I saw.”

“I see.” That made no sense. Any organized army with enough might to siege an empire could only be another kingdom or empire; none that you knew employed a plain black field upon their banner except for Karasuno and Nekoma themselves, and you knew Nekoma didn’t have the capacity to invade and occupy another empire without aid from another. No, this was something different—a mercenary group, perhaps? But that made no sense, either. “And did anyone else escape as you did?”

“I… I’m not sure, your majesty.” Yachi took on a look of genuine anguish at the thought and you had to pity her just a little. “But if they did, they wouldn’t have risked Shiratorizawa as I did—perhaps Nekoma, or Aoba Johsai.”

Yes, those two were indeed more likely. No one would want to brave the cliffs and hills that made up Shiratorizawa; they were made for eagle shifters and those who knew the terrain well enough not to fall to their deaths. It was dangerous for any other to go through them, which was all the more suspicious now that an army had seemingly snuck through without anyone noticing. You would have to dig deeper into this—and worm your way into Wakatoshi’s advisor’s good graces, too.

“Hmm.” You scratched your chin. “Semi, when we return, assemble a small group of men and head to Nekoma and then Aoba Johsai to search for survivors. Get their stories; I’m concerned about this new militant force, whoever it is. They could target Shiratorizawa next.”

“W-wait!” Yachi made Goshiki shove his horse forward. You raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. “If you can—can you see if my friends made it out? You can’t miss one of them, he has orange hair, and is short—”

You looked to Semi for confirmation. It was his squadron he would likely be sending out; it was his choice. You had no interest in her friends, even if they were survivors. You just wanted their stories. When he nodded subtly, you inclined your head and looked back to Yachi. “Very well. They will look—but they will not hunt them down. That’s the best I can offer you, Yachi. I apologize.”

“That’s alright.” She smiled, a pathetic, weary thing. “It means a lot to me that you even considered it. I hope they’re okay, wherever they are.”

You couldn’t relate. Your kingdom wasn’t occupied by an unknown enemy force, hopefully it never would be. You could only nod and nudge your horse into a trot, eager to see if you had drove that arrogant little girl playing Queen out of the palace, only to see a procession—a very haphazard, unsteady procession—proceeding towards you faster than you could blink. Among them was an eagle shifter you knew well—Kenjiro Shirabu—and he never used his eagle form unless it was of the utmost importance.

Because he was smaller than the others, you were able to hold out your arm and allow him to land safely, even if he almost knocked you over in the process. His claws dug into your arm and ripped through your sleeve as he tried to steady himself, but he looked so terrified, so scared, even in eagle form, that your concern quickly overpowered your smugness.

“Shirabu?” You reached up and plucked a loose feather from his wing. “What’s wrong?”

“King Wakatoshi’s squadron—what was left of it—returned home moments after you departed.” He was out of breath, taking deep inhales through his beak to catch it, and you watched him with concerned eyes. “I was told to return and inform you.”

But that made no sense—what was left of it?

“What do you mean?” You squinted at him, understanding settling in your gut even though you denied it. “Shirabu?”

He avoided your gaze. “They were attacked. King Wakatoshi… King Wakatoshi did not return with them. Nor did Tendou.”

It was like someone had dropped a cold stone in your belly. “What?”

“Please hurry to the palace.” He was already rising, flapping his wings to gain altitude. You reached up to snatch him back down, but he evaded your grasp and hovered just above your reach. “The advisors are in a panic. They don’t know what to do—you’re the only one who can take charge now, Princess [Name].”

He was gone before you could stop him. You watched him fly away, in a daze, eyes fixed on his steadily shrinking form, much like when you had watched Wakatoshi leave that day. He had promised to bring you back honey from the forest.

“Let’s go.” You spurred your horse into a run, Goshiki and Semi following right behind you. You had to know if it was true. And if it was… If it was? “We… We need to do damage control.”

“I believe the damage is already done, your majesty!” Semi shouted over the roaring wind in his ears. He gestured to the outside of the palace, already in sight from the breakneck pace, as you merged with the retinue that had come with Shirabu. People rallied around the gate, rioting, demanding to know what was going on. Tomatoes and sour fruit flew and hit the men standing guard at their post. “We’ll go through the back way!”

You allowed Semi to take charge, moving his horse to the head of your group because, for once, you could make no decisions. Your thoughts revolved around your brother—undefeated, unconquerable Wakatoshi, so confident in his decisions and quiet and kind. Now he was gone, dead or missing, and you had no idea who had done it.

But when you found them, whoever had taken your brother from you and kept him from returning home, you would skin them and place their heads on a pike.

And you would start with Akira Saito.

one | masterlist | three

taglist (open): i don't think i got any requests for this taglist (if i did i forgot) so feel free to ask me again to add you if i did. <3

[angstybleuskies]

Of Pumpkin Painting and Faerie Fruit

 Halloween gift for @venetum

The first time Clarke met Bellamy, he painted a strange symbol on her right arm, and she couldn’t move her fingers for three hours. She had been eighteen years old, at a Halloween festival with her friends. While her friends rode the rides that always made her sick, she was losing time at the pumpkin painting station. She had been focused on creating an anatomically correct skeleton—having the head surgeon from her hometown’s hospital demanded nothing less—when he’d shown up at the station. She couldn’t say what it was about him that fascinated her, maybe it was the warm, bronze color of his skin or the mischievous light in his eyes, but when he’d grinned at her across the table she’d been struck by a sense of familiarity, though she knew she’d never laid eyes on him before.

“Your skeleton seems ready to jump off that pumpkin and start walking around,” he’d grinned, eyes riveted on hers, not even looking at what she’d painted.

“I suppose it could happen,” She’d let a tiny smirk slip out, playing along with him. “After all the veil between worlds is supposed to be at its thinnest today.”

“You believe in other worlds then?” He’d raised an eyebrow, his grin widening, but the sharpening of his gaze betrayed how intent he was on her answer.

“I think it’s possible,” Clarke let her smirk grow. “Though I don’t think I’ll be spending tonight hunting ghouls and goblins.”

“Shame,” He moved around the table, picking up a paint brush as he drew closer. Clarke’s whole body could sense him, utterly aware of his tiniest movement. He stretched out his hand, palm upward. She tentatively placed her right hand in his, her inner right arm facing upward. He grinned at her, not breaking her gaze as he touched the tip of the paintbrush to her forearm. She jumped from the cold and his grin grew as he began tracing it across her skin. She held his stare. Stars seemed to dance in his eyes the longer they kept their gazes locked.

He winked and pulled away. “It was nice to meet you,” he said before moving into the crowd, sending glances back at her as moved farther away.

Her right arm began to tingle, and she looked down as a burning sensation began to take form. The boy pulled away, and she looked up at him, betrayal in her gaze. A look of fear and regret overtook his face before he was swallowed up by the crowd.

Clarke searched out her friends, becoming more panicked as the burning sensation faded and she was unable to move the fingers on her right arm. Wells had rushed her to the hospital, the tests turning up no result, feeling returning after three hours precisely. The only thing left from the encounter were Clarke’s memories and the mark. The paint washed away, but the mark remained, paler than the rest of already pale skin, like a scar.

…

When Clarke was 21, she celebrated Halloween at a bar. Her friends were at their table while she was at the bar, grabbing another round. The bar they were at were selling trays of 3 Halloween-themed shots for $3 a shot, and they were on their fourth round. Clarke’s favorite was the Faerie Fruit shot; a sweet, golden colored shot of fruity liquor and whiskey that burned on the way down. Raven had claimed the Redcap’s Triumph an ungodly concoction of crème de menthe with a layer of cherry vodka dyed an alarming shade of blood red floating on top, that had been far too reminiscent of cold medicine for Clarke’s taste. Wells preferred the Goblin Blood shot, a mix of green apple liquor and Blue Curacao that made Clarke’s whole face pucker.

She leaned against the bar, content to wait as the bartenders flitted among the various witches, ghosts, and ghouls lining the bar. Clarke had opted for a more subtle costume, a High Fae, with pointed ear caps. She had worn dark jeans, a black tank top with a floral embroidery design in shimmering golden thread and tossed on a leather jacket. Her hair was half pulled back to reveal her ears, but she enjoyed the simple costume. Wells had protested, but Clarke had refused to budge—she had to wear this costume. She didn’t know why but this was the right one for tonight.

Wells had been easily distracted by compliments to his own costume. He’d dressed as a vampire, with red contacts, fangs that appeared and disappeared and fake blood on his face and shirt. Raven had opted for a simple costume, coming from work in her usual jeans and tank top, though she’d made it a ‘costume’ by swapping her. Usual red jacket for her official Nasa staff jacket. Wells had grumbled, but one look from Raven had made him stop.

Clarke could see them both laughing at the table and she let a small grin take over her face. Those two had been circling each other for years, and the last few weeks made it seem like they’d finally make that final plunge. Clarke turned back to the bar, glancing down toward where the bartender was taking an order. She froze as she saw the dark-haired boy who had drawn that symbol on her arm. Her hand drifted to where the mark was hidden by her jacket.

His eyes drank her in, his brow crinkling slightly as his gaze saw where her hand was. He began moving toward her through the crowd. She studied him, still unable to move. He moved fluidly, seeming to glide between the bodies massed around the bar. Her eyes moved to his face, taking in the warm brown eyes and catching on his ears. They were pointed. And she knew. These were not ear caps like she wore no—these were real.

He reached her grinning, down at her but making no move to invade her space or touch her. Clarke opened her mouth to speak but her voice caught. His eyes drank in her face.

“It’s nice to see you again,” His honey voice washed over her, and she felt that sense of familiarity flow through her. “Still think it’s possible that other worlds exist?”

She blinked. “So, you’re…”

“Fae.” He held her eyes, not wavering.

Clarke absorbed the information. After it washed through her, Clarke’s fury made a sudden roaring appearance and she scowled. “What the hell was that three years ago? I couldn’t move my arm for hours?”

He looked a bit sheepish. The boy moved even closer and lowered his voice, “That…was an unexpected reaction. That was meant to be some random symbol. My magic reacted to you without me intending it.”

“Does that happen often?”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No. Only with you.”

“And disappearing after? You knew something was wrong.”

“We aren’t supposed to share our magic or let humans know we exist,” He glanced around and lowered his voice further. “If one of us was ever captured by humans…”

Clarke knew immediately what he meant. Humans finding out about Fae and magic wouldn’t end well.

“If it was just me that would be one thing,” He continued, “but I had to think of every Fae creature in Faerie.”

Clarke bit her lip. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her nervously. “You’ll try not to let it happen again?”

A look of surprise overtook his face and he nodded slowly.

“Then it’s nice to meet you,” She held out her hand. “I’m Clarke. I have a funny scar on my arm, and I love to paint.”

He grinned and gripped her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you Clarke. My name is Bellamy. I spend most of my time either working or reading in the library.”

“It’s nice to meet you Bellamy,” She didn’t let go of his hand, smiling back at him. “How about I buy you a drink? They have a great one called Faerie Fruit tonight.”

His laugh warmed her, and his grin widened. “I’d like that.”

Happy Halloween @venetum! I hope you have an amazing day!!!!

Prompt from Gail Carson Levine, Writing Magic: Creating Stories that Fly: The first time I saw Stephen, he painted a hex sign on my right arm, and I couldn’t move my fingers for three hours.

Inspiration for Clarke’s costume is from The Cruel Prince!

Shoutout to @slyth-princess for cough medicine line 😊!

[letaintedserpentine]

ZADR WEEK: Cryptids

How long had Zim been stuck in here, when Dib was debating whether to follow him? Blame… fault? Dib shook the thoughts out of his head. None of it mattered now. Finding Zim took priority.

Zim is lost in the land of the fae, and Dib’s trying to find him. cheers to @zadrweek3 for hosting!!! :D Full fic below or in AO3

-----

Time… moved differently with the fae.

It felt like hours, days, weeks, that Dib stumbled and worked his way through blurred landscape of blue and dark, even if he knew  it should’ve only been minutes since he landed.

The theory was all too correct- and Dib, through his dragged limbs and heavy breaths, could only suppress his guilt.

How long had Zim been stuck in here, when Dib was debating whether to follow him?

Blame… fault?

Dib shook the thoughts out of his head. None of it mattered now. Finding Zim took priority.

Sweltering, Dib marched on with almost no sense of direction. The world before him changed in an instant, the blues lighting up to yellows with no gradient between. Dib clutched his head as he tried to adjust to the scenery, his mind failing to catch up in the in-between of the last second to now.

His glasses, while firmly perched in his nose, did nothing for him in this realm. Everything was either to bright or too dull for him to focus on properly- it was giving him a headache to stare.

As if only unlocking certain senses gradually, pitched laughter rang in his ears, like someone just blared their speaker.

The blobs of yellow and green moved around him, like a crowd with a practiced stance. They mingled freely, lightly touching him at times, brushing past him, as the crowd murmured and laughed.

Music so sensual and sweet almost got Dib to sway on his feet, only for him to realize that if he got caught in their trances, he might never get out. Still, the fae persisted.

“Come dance with us,” whispered one, before drifting away with a giggle.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just leave everything behind here?”

“Forget about all of it, and just dance?”

Their voices were a nice lull, comforting, engaging, and their warmth so real that he couldn’t feel but be lonely.

Would it really be that easy? Dib wondered dreamily, feeling the change in his body as it no longer grew weary. He was relaxed, too relaxed, and ready to just… give in.

Give… up?

Dib snapped out of the trance, and the whispers around him ceased, falling into muffled laughter.

“They failed?” A familiar voice rang.

Dib whipped his head around, only to see more blurs. He couldn’t be mistaken. He knew that voice anywhere.

“It looks too drab to be entertaining.” Another peal of laughter emerged. This time, they parted for him, to showcase, to mock him? He couldn’t care less about what these things thought of him, but Zim had to be here-

He just needed that flash of green, of those crimson eyes- he would recognize those shades easily, no matter how his vision failed him in this new world, he just needed to find him-

A thrilled ran through the crowd as the voice once again spoke, teasing and serious all at once. “You can eat him.”

It was a shock still, to find him. Dressed in a flowing white and gold robe, he was the only one that looked real to Dib, what with everything still looking like under the lenses of a filter.

Zim was the one that popped up in all this madness, features stark and defined. He was taller than Dib, now- with an air of power that only came when you’ve won everything and got bored of it.

Dib would never admit how much it bothered him to see Zim look... competent. That, and the cruel smile that played on the alien’s lips.

“Zim?” Dib said, his voice still and unbelieving.

Zim’s swept the crowd and turned to him, then, without any recognition, bypass him entirely.

Dib felt his blood rise. “I know I took so long but that doesn’t mean you get to act like you don’t-”

The mild murmurs all around him ceased once Dib raised his voice, and the silence felt threatening.

Zim’s impassive face never changed.

“The act’s not funny, Zim.” Dib said, his voice losing almost all his hold. “I didn’t come all this way to take you home for you to brush me off.”

“I don’t even know who you are.” Zim issued an order without ever leaving his gaze. “He’s disturbing the festivities. I think one of the back gardens needs fertilizer. Take him away.”

“You’re lying!” Dib said, frustrated but not unwilling to fight. He broke free of the blobs that were intending to capture him, aiming towards the Irken. It was a frenzied approach, less careful that he would’ve when given the chance to prepare, wishing for luck to take hold.

It didn’t. He was pinned to the floor before even reaching Zim half-way, the faes that captured him silent and stoic. All unreal.

Sharp metal pressed against Dib’s neck as Zim watched from afar, the fae soldiers waiting for an order.

“I changed my mind.” Zim said, a devious glint in his eyes. “Clean him up and take him to my quarters. I want him alive.”

A sickly sweet scent overpowered Dibs senses, and the world- not quite his world, faded away.

His hair was uncomfortably damp, and something too soft covered his body, fuscia robes flowing over his arms and legs. Dib was struck by the sensations and forced his torso upright, wincing as his body felt heavy.

He didn’t remember going to sleep, and he didn’t feel all that well-rested. But consciousness was enough of a sign for him to stay alert. He felt watched.

Was Zim-

The Irken stared at him, contemplating.

Dib noted his still damp body. “Did you bathe me?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

“I have servants for that,” Zim answered, ever so smoothly.

“And this?” Dib gestured to the robe.

“I’ve always liked that color.”

“Wear it yourself.” Dib snapped.

Zim moved to come near him, and Dib unsubtly moved back. Zim didn’t look bothered, and closed in until Dib could see the intricate embroidery of his clothes- of colors that he thought the Irken wouldn’t pull of, but did.

Although maybe it had been more about Zim’s movement rather than the clothing itself, the way he carried himself all knowing, untouched by anything of this world-

Zim lightly grabbed his chin. “Red does not suit you,” he said, almost disappointed. “Darker, maybe.”

“I’m not your toy.”

“I considered leaving you to rot.”

Dib hated the way that Zim acted impervious. “Why didn’t you?”

Zim’s lips twitched. “You antagonized me.” Dib was about to protest, but without any other warning, Zim pressed his lips to Dib’s- demanding and hungry. His lips were coaxing, relentless, persuasive- Dib could feel any reservation of his crumble as his mind fell slack.

His lips was soft, which was a pleasant surprise. In the back of his mind, Dib wondered if Zim had always tasted this sweet.

Zim’s tongue was long and slimy, utterly alien, and yet Dib couldn’t help but shiver. It didn’t matter how much his mind connected Zim as his rival- because even this felt like a battle, a war to see who could claim the other.

Zim was intoxicating- passion ruled over logic at this point, and Dib didn’t know how far they would’ve gone if Zim hadn’t decided to deepthroat him with his tongue.

Dib shoved the Irken off, coughing, his face burning.

“Have I broken you already?”

Dib glared at him while he controlled his breathing. Meanwhile, Zim looked barely bothered, aside from the way his eyes darkened in color.

He might’ve looked as stony as he could. But Zim was never that unfeeling. Emptiness was a staple to him, as well as boredom. Zim would never admit how he felt a little more whole as he explored Dib’s mouth, a little less drowning. He could, however, admit to wanting to do it again.

Dib didn’t look as receptive.

“Zim,” Dib tried again, “We don’t- I don’t-”

Zim clicked his tongue. “You talk as if you know me, human.” Amusement glinted off those bright beady orbs.

A familiar rage rose inside Dib, one that fired him up as much as he could to bring the alien down, but this time, to get him on his side. “I do. You’re an invader trying to take over Earth but I always end up stopping you, you have a robot that calls me Mary for some reason- You don’t remember any of that?”

Zim’s mind rejected the possibility. He’d been alone for as far as he could remember, deftly seizing power in the fae court as easy without any opposition. In a place where the demons couldn’t lie, he had the advantage, and he just needed to learn how to hide it. If he’d had some other life before this desolated place, he’d remember it.

“You lie.” Zim hissed at him.

“No, it’s the truth.” He had to convince Zim somehow. “Gir is probably wondering where you are. Don’t you want to come back to him?”

The name tugged something deep inside him, and Zim gripped the sides of his head, his antenna falling flat against it. “Who are you?! Tell me!”

Never give the fae your name.

“Zim…” Dib didn’t know if he should. It was the one taboo with them. Zim’s been a part of this society for who knows how long that he had probably picked up some tricks to use his name against him.

But this was Zim! His alien rival first and foremost! He was either falling for an obvious fae trap… or a part of him trusted the alien.

“I’m Dib.” He answered quietly.

All at once, Zim stopped fidgeting. Dib could recount the exact second that recognition flashed in those pinkish eyes.

A scowl, one so unhinged and so entirely his Zim, morphed the alien’s features.

Zim pinned him down. “You pushed me here!”

It took Dib a moment to remember what he was talking about, in between noticing Zim’s hands against him again.

He focused. Time worked differently here, it felt like it had been ages. But rummaging around his memory, he remembered.

The scene was once set- Dib, the paranormal enthusiast, wanting to gather data on fairy rings, and the skeptic alien tagging along for kicks.

There was a mystical magical circle there, mushrooms enclosing a suspicious a suspiciously lush patch of grass-

Dib jokingly pushed Zim in the direction of one of those rings, seeing as the other had been complaining about his desire to take notes on “weed”, and Zim retaliated with a harder shove.

It didn’t take long for Zim to become serious, aiming to push Dib in despite his protests, and with adrenaline that backed Dib up, Dib resisted- but in turn had Zim fall in, disappearing without a trace.

Dib protested, “You’re the one that started pushing! I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Too slow, Dib! Too slow!” Zim shut his eyes, his grip piercing Dib’s wrists. “They might’ve hidden my memory but it’s back now, Dib-worm. I know you pushed me.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “I’ve spent too long in this rotten masked land- always feeling misplaced, missing something and never knowing what-”

Zim tightened his grasp.

To Dib’s surprise, pale pink tears streamed down from Zim’s eyes.

For a moment there, Dib thought Zim would lean down to kiss him again. And even a stranger thought, he knew he wouldn’t be opposed if Zim did.

But Zim slackened his grasp, eased off him and cleared his eyes, his stress finally dawning on him.

He pulled Dib up and leaned on him, grasping his shirt, not quite an embrace but not too far from it.

Zim burrowed in Dib’s neck, savoring the feeling of finally, finally being whole. “You’re never leaving me again, Dib-stink. Even if I have to keep you on a leash.”

His breath was cool on Dib’s skin. Dib swallowed dryly. “Well, uhh… next monster hunt, I’ll let you stick to me.”

The punch to his gut, Dib conceded, might be entirely earned.

“Let’s go, Dib-thing. Time to go home.”

[linechinese]

Chinese Clothing

Chinese clothing has a long history, which leaves a precious heritage for the world. With five thousand years of Chinese history and 56 ethnic groups, Chinese textile printing and dyeing technology had led the world for thousands of years. Almost every dynasty has its distinctive characteristics of clothing culture, and every ethnic group dresses differently. China is the most developed country in clothing culture in the world.

History

Chinese traditional clothing strives to be harmonious between heaven and man. Heaven and man are the relations between the universe and man. Due to the admiration of heaven and harmony with nature, traditional clothing was designed to be more relaxed and elegant, with little restriction on the human body, which is the corresponding relationship between heaven and earth.

1.Clothes in Shang and Zhou Dynasties

The clothing material in the Shang dynasty is mainly leather, silk, and linen. The slaveholders and nobles are usually wearing colorful silk garments. Slaves and commoners were generally dressed in natural linen, ko-hemp cloth or cilice cloth. The fabric color of this period is warm for many, especially yellow and red, between light brown and dark brown. The clothes don’t have buttons, usually a belt tied around the waist, and some hung with jade ornaments.

2.Clothes in the Spring and Autumn and Warring States Periods

During the Spring and Autumn period, the Embroidery process made great progress, making the clothing materials more elaborate with more varieties. The clothes of upper societies are decent and the lower classes are narrow. In the style, the most popular ones are Shenyi and Hufu. Shenyi has the meaning of keeping your body inside. It was the casual dress of the scholar-bureaucrat and the formal wear of the common people. In 307 B.C., the King Wuling of Zhao State advocated dressing in Hufu, which was convenient for riding and shooting activity.

3.Clothes in Qin and Han Dynasties

The clothing in the Qin dynasty has no great difference with that in the Warring States period, and the basic style of Shenyi remained. Clothing for men and women both are overlapped and rightward collars with narrow sleeves, whose purfle and waist belt are decorated with a colorful, delicate pattern. The style of men’s clothing in the Han dynasty is roughly divided into two kinds: the curved hem and the straight-front robe. Shenyi is the style of curved hem. The straight-front robe is common in the Eastern Han, but not formal wear. In the Han dynasty, a costume system(Yufu) appeared. There were more than 20 kinds of formal wear, court dress and casual clothing for the emperor and all officials. The class distinctions in clothing were already apparent.

Hanfu is the traditional clothing of Chinese Han nationality. It formed a perfect clothing system in Han Dynasty and popularize to the masses, and also influenced the whole Han cultural circle through Confucianism and Chinese law.

4.Clothes in Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties

In the northern and southern dynasties, when the northern minorities invaded the central plains and interplay with locals, the clothing was also changed greatly. Especially a large number of Hu people made Hufu the most fashionable clothes at that time. Close-fitting, round collar, and slit are the main features of Hufu.

5.Sui and Tang Dynasties

During the Sui and Tang dynasties, the development of clothing, whether in material and style, presented an unprecedented splendid scene. Whatever clothes of officials or common people, men or women, all showed their open mind and pioneering spirit, which fully reflected the distinct features of time and nationality.

6.Clothes in the Song, Liao, Jin and Yuan Dynasties

The clothes in the Song dynasty basically kept the style of Han national dress, and that in Liao, Western Xia, Jin and Yuan's dynasties followed the style of Khitan, Tangut, Nvzhen and Mongolian respectively. The costumes of various ethnic groups are exchange and blending once more. Officials usually wore a robe with big sleeves and carried the rules of hanging “fish bags” with fishes in made from gold, silver or copper around the waist to see the difference of official rank.

The women of the Tangut often wore lapel Hufu, with exquisite embroidery on the collar. The Khitan and the Jurchen were generally in overclothes featured with narrow sleeves, round collar and knee-length, as well as long boots on foot, which were suitable for hunting at any time. The women wore a long gown with narrow sleeves, overlapped and leftward collar, which was long enough to the dorsum of the foot. Zhisunfu (Jisum in Mongolian) is the common clothes in the Yuan dynasty, tight and narrow, with many pleats at the waist, which was convenient for mounting and dismounting the horse.

7.Clothes in Ming and Qing

The clothes in Ming and Qing dynasties have great differences. In the Ming dynasty, Han traditional clothing was most common, while Manchu clothing dominated in Qing dynasty. Both had distinct features of the class. At the beginning of the Ming dynasty, the clothes were required to continue the styles of the Tang. The official’s costume also uses Futou and a round collar robe. The clothes of the Qing Dynasty had a substantial influence on modern fashion.

8.Clothes in Modern times

The clothing of the Chinese entered a new era. With more communication with foreign countries, class rules of clothing were break down and traditional clothing was increasingly influenced by western and replaced by many new varieties. Since the 1920s, women love cheongsam, which has gradually become a lasting fashion. From the 1950s to the 1970s, the Zhongshan suit became the common clothes. Women’s wear was influenced by the Soviet Union and the one-piece dress swept the city.

Famous Traditional Chinese Clothes Types

1.Hanfu:

Hanfu, the traditional clothing of the Han nationality,“Began the Yellow Emperor, prepare for Yao and Shun”, came from the Yellow Emperor system Mianfu and was fixed in the Zhou dynasty. In different periods of history, Hanfu has some changes, but overlapped and rightward collars are invariable. A whole set of Hanfu usually consists of three layers: a small coat (underwear), a middle coat(inner garment), and an overcoat. Until the Han Dynasty, the Hanfu was adopted and promoted by the ruling class. The Mianfu of Topcoat-plus-Skirt style(separate tops and lower garment) is the official dress of the emperors and officials. Shenyi (Gown) is the casual clothing of the officials and scholars, and Served Ru skirt is worn by women. The laboring class generally wears short clothing in imperfect conditions.

2.Tang Suit

The name “Tangzhuang” was originally created by overseas Chinese people due to the prosperity of the Tang Dynasty. Chinese people are also called “Tang People” by foreigners. In fact, Tang suit (or Tangzhuang) has two varieties in Chinese culture. One is a kind of Chinese clothing, evolves from the Hanfu, featured with overlapped and rightward collars and tied with a sash. The representatives are Qixiongruqun(waistband above the chest), Tangyuanlingpao(round collar), Jiaolingruqun(collar in the shape of letter Y). The other one is a kind of pseudo-traditional Chinese jacket with a straight collar. This kind of Tang suit has four characteristics: mandarin collar with an asymmetrical front opening; one piece of sleeves and clothes, with buttons down the front and right angle button.

3. Cheongsam

Cheongsam or Qipao in Chinese, the traditional dress of Chinese women in the world, is honored as the quintessence of Chinese national culture and the national dress of Chinese females. After the 1920s, it became the most popular clothing of women, which was determined by the government of the Republic of China as one of the national dresses in 1929. After the 1980s, as the traditional culture being revalued and with the effects of film and TV culture, fashion show and beauty contest, cheongsam was gradually prevalent in the mainland, and all over the world. Cheongsams are close-fitting and draw the outline of the wearer’s body. The classical cheongsams mostly used straight lines, loose body piece and split ends into both sides. The chest circumference and waistline are closer to the size of the dress. Modern cheongsam is designed more close-fitting and accompanied with sleeves in western style. Its length of the body part and sleeves are greatly shortened. The design of Cheongsam got various inventions like a ruffled collar, bell-like sleeves, and black lace frothing.

4. Chinese Tunic Suit

Chinese tunic suit, also called Mao suit or Zhongshan suit, named after the Chinese revolutionary pioneer Dr. Sun Yat-sen, was designed on the basis of Japanese student costumes. It has a turn-down collar and four pockets with flaps. Mao Suit was named because the famous political figure Mao Zedong often worn it. It was once one of the most popular standard clothes for Chinese men. After the 1980s, with the deepening of reform and opening up, western-style suit and other fashions gradually became popular. It is worth mentioning that Chinese leaders are still used to wearing Chinese tunic suit when attending major domestic events.

5. Clothing of the Ethnic Minorities

Ethnic minorities wear their national costume in daily life and the occasion of festival etiquette. China’s 55 ethnic minority clothing, due to the difference in the geographical environment, climate, customs, and habits, economic, cultural, forms different styles, colors, and with distinctive national features. Generally, there are two types: long gown and a short coat. People in gown wear hats and boots, and the people in short coats wear headcloth and shoes. Some techniques of Chinese ethnic minorities such as embroidery and batik are much developed and are widely used in making clothing adornments. This is another feature of their costumes.

[roksanas]

ROKSANA SIRSK -  CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONNAIRE

BASICS -

1. Height?

Roksana is 5’4.

2. Eye colour?

Dark brown.

3. Do they need glasses?

Nah baby this human has 20/20 vision and can see in regular and magical darkness for 120 feet. It’s an invocation, but she will claim she’s just more evolved than most humans.

4. Scars and birthmark?

She has quite a few prominent scars on her hands from burns and cuts when she was training as a blacksmith. She also has a long, vertical scar beneath her ribs from a job that went sideways. She almost died before getting to a cleric; she doesn’t talk about it.

5. Tattoos and piercings?

On her right ear she has 3 lobe piercings, an industrial and a forward helix, and on her left she has a helix, a tragus, and 3 lobe piercings. As for tattoos, she has the symbols of Dol Arrah, Milil, Lathander, and the Raven Queen down her left forearm, and the symbols of Dol Dorn, Tymora, Malar, Sune down her right forearm.

6. Right or left handed?

Sana does most things with her right hand, but she’s trained herself to be useful with both in battle.

7. Any disabilities? Physical or mental.

Sana has lost most of the hearing in her left ear, and as such is hard of hearing.

8. Do they have any allergies?

Roksana is allergic to dogs and NO ONE is allowed to talk to her about it. 

9. Favourite colour?

Black, or navy blue. 

10. Typical outfits?

Sana likes well-made clothing, and most of her spending is on clothes. She wears mostly black and white. A lot of her tops are blouses, often sporting either lace, embroidery, or flowy sleeves. She loves elaborate dresses, corsets worn in untraditional ways, and interesting belt buckles. If she’s on a job, she wears a breastplate underneath a cloak or a powerful-looking coat. She’s also a fan of leather gloves.

11. Do they wear any makeup?

Sana rarely wears makeup, but she can’t resist a bit of eyeliner here and there.

12. What weapon do they use, if any?

She almost exclusively uses Obit, which is both her pact blade and her spellcasting focus. Obit likes to call itself Darthranok, and speaks to her telepathically. 

PERSONALITY -

13. Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

Sana considers herself a realist, which is to say...she’s mostly pessimistic. If she has any optimism left, it resides in Zari, who does her best to see the light in every situation when Sana is focusing on solutions. She doesn’t waste a lot of time on pessimism, but she certainly doesn’t expect anything good from others or from any situation she walks into.

14. Are they introverted or extroverted?

Introverted. Definitely charismatic and a skilled socializer, but she only gains energy when she’s alone or only around people who are close to her.

15. What are their pet peeves?

Most of Sana’s pet peeves are exhibited by her clients. She hates when people explain things slowly when she didn’t ask them to, she hates when people aren’t punctual - particularly with their payments - and she hates when people act like they know her. Above all, she hates being pitied, and even annoys herself when she gets caught up in the habit of self-pitying. Some smaller pet peeves include loud chewers, Zari wearing her clothes, and people standing too close to her.

16. What bad habits do they have?

She picks at her nails, leans back in pretty much every chair she sits in, and leaves loose strands of hair littered about the house. She always thinks she’s right, she consistently asks too much for the jobs she undertakes, and she tries to get to know people without letting them know her.

17. Do they have any phobias?

The most constant fear she has, the one that gives her the most nightmares, is losing Zari. When she’s away from Khaggon, it often keeps her up at night and she’s considering bringing her sister along on all her jobs again.

18. How do they display affection?

Acts of service all the way. She doesn’t get close with many people, but when she does choose to let someone in she’s very all-or-nothing. She will go out of her way to get that person what they need, and loves to provide for the people she loves. She’s not especially physically affectionate, but when she’s exhausted she can’t deny that she likes to cuddle.

19. How competitive are they?

Oh, god. You don’t wanna know. If she gets even the slightest idea that someone’s coming for her job or for her money, she will go to extreme lengths to make sure they never try that again. She also tends to swear and yell a bit too much when playing card games.

20. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

She’d like to be a bit softer, a bit more trusting, a bit more open-hearted - if she could manage.

21. Do they have any obscure hobbies or routines?

She loves making her own knives, especially ones that are just for display with elaborate handles. For the past five years, she’s had an omelette for breakfast every morning that she hasn’t been in the wild or otherwise incapacitated. She reorganizes her closet and jewelry once or twice a month, just for kicks. She likes to gamble.

BACKSTORY -

22. What are the names and ages of their close family members? Parents, siblings, etc.

Zari, her sister, is thirteen. Esfir, her mother, would be fifty-two, and her father, Ashkin, would be fifty-one. Roksana was also close to her maternal grandmother, Shirin, who would be eighty-five now.

23. Is their family alive and are they still in contact with them?

Esfir and Ashkin have been dead for almost three and thirteen years respectively, and Shirin has been dead for eight years. Her sister is very much alive, and very much in contact with her.

24. Where are they from? City, nation?

Runswick born-and-raised, though she currently lives in Khaggon. 

25. Did they have a childhood best friend?

Ever since she can remember, Sana’s best friend has been a girl named Evangeline. She’s a wealthy merchant’s daughter, and has recently started a family in Runswick. They rarely see each other anymore, but they do still write to each other.

26. Have they had any pets?

The only pet she had growing up was a cat named Stinky. She found him as a stray when she was ten, and he had an incredibly pungent smell. Since then, she always wanted a dog, but their fur gives her hives and their dandruff stuffs her up - so, instead, she got Zari a gray tabby. (Zari’s always liked cats better, anyway.) Her sister named him Quincy, and though Sana is sure he’ll never be as great as Stinky, she is glad that Zari has company when she’s away. 

27. Did they grow up rich or poor? What were their living conditions like?

Sana lived in a small home, and had very little excess in her upbringing. Her parents were both righteous and honorable, and usually found that justice was all the payment they needed for their adventures. They did, however, provide Sana and Zari with what they needed, though some months were pretty tight.

28. What is their educational background?

Sana was taught by Evangeline’s governess until she was fifteen.

29. As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

Until her father died, she thought perhaps she would be a paladin just like her parents. Then she wanted to be a blacksmith, of course.

30. What advice would they give to their younger self?

Honestly, she’d probably try to dash her hopes earlier in life. She’d tell herself to get used to things not going right. She’d probably be a badder bitch if she let go of childish dreams earlier on. This, however, is far from any advice she’d ever give to Zari.

31. Growing up, were they ever bullied or were they the bully?

She probably made fun of a boy here and there, but she was never bullied. In fact, after her father died, she was treated with so much pity that it makes her gag thinking about it. Even the children in her neighborhood acted like she was fragile.

32. Who do they look up to/who is their role model?

Herself, tbh. But also Zari, because she’s extremely emotionally intelligent and good at a lot of things that she struggles with.

PRESENT -

33. Do they currently have a place of residence?

Yes, she has a small home in Khaggon that she paid for in coin.

34. What is their most treasured possession?

If not Obit, then this particularly sharp and rad dagger that she made herself with a raven’s head as the hilt.

35. What is their drink of choice?

Any sort of liquor. She likes shots.

36. Which king/queen are they loyal to, if any?

Rolland, if she has to choose. She surely doesn’t trust him, but Hegaehend is her home, and she won’t side with anyone who’s trying to invade it.

37. Have they ever killed anyone?

Oh, yeah. She’d never call herself an assassin, but she has been paid to kill specific marks, or paid to finish jobs that had no restrictions on who was left dead or alive. Her sword also feeds on life force, and she doesn’t want to know what will happen if it gets too hungry.

38. What was their last promise and did they keep it?

She promises Zari that she’ll be safe every time she leaves, and she hasn’t died yet, so she considers that a promise kept.

LOVE -

39. What was their first kiss like, if they’ve had one?

Sloppy, gross. She was thirteen and had a crush on the guy for an entire year, and then everything good she’d ever thought about him disappeared when he shoved his tongue down her throat. He tasted like ham.

40. Are they in a relationship/have a love interest?

Nope. She has friends with benefits scattered here and there, but she wouldn’t consider them love interests.

41. Have they ever been in love?

Yes. When Sana was twenty-one, she fell head-over-heels with a half-elf named Mikas. They’d grown up in the same social circle, and he had a tendency to flirt with everyone in that social circle. But after a long night out and a talk under the stars, things were different between them. They were inseparable for a year, and it was a good year, but after that year came two more years that were much less enjoyable.

42. Have they ever had their heart broken?

Of course. She gave her all in the relationship with Mikas. It was the most vulnerable she’d ever been with someone, and he probably still knows her better than anyone. But he still didn’t want to be with her. After that one good year, he stopped trying. He stopped finding time to spend with her, stopped making her feel heard, and then he left her for some girl he hardly knew. Now, she won’t accept anything less than 100% effort from a romantic partner - not that she particularly wants one.

SPIRITUALITY -

43. Do they follow a god, if so who?

Nope! She has those religious symbols tattooed on her mostly as a joke. Probably insensitive, but she likes to keep people guessing about what her religious background is. She’s also still pretty bitter about gods and what they expect of their champions.

44. What do they think happens to them after death?

Regardless of her religious beliefs, she likes to believe in an afterlife. She’s seen ghosts and other kinds of spirits, and she likes to believe that if someone deserves to live on past their mortal life, then they will. It helps her sleep at night to think that the people she kills will live on if they deserve to, and that if they don’t deserve to, then she did the world a service.

45. What is their spirit animal?

Listen I know I said lion for Avi, but she’s a Leo so how can I not say lion…….otherwise maybe a raven or smth.

[leswansong]

Marichat May - Kitty Cats & Ballet Shoes

Day Ten: Victorian AU (But its really a Heist)

[ A03 ]                                       -=- 6k words -=-

  Adrien lurked atop the apartment complex across the street from the small two bedroom one he had called come for a short while waiting for the girl that owned it to return home. The mask he had designed for her sat in the small backpack he had brought as well as a few extra things that they would need.

  This was going to be the real test for her, she had always said that she wanted to help and he was going to find out if she was going to be true to her words or if she had been lying the entire time. He had been questioning her loyalty for weeks ever since he had found her sketch in his paperwork. Plagg had suggested that he clone her phone to make sure that she wasn’t secretly sending texts to a detective but he had argued against that on the grounds that it would be invading her privacy.

  He checked the tiny display on his baton for the time to try and quell his growing anxiety in his stomach only to make it worse. His plan had been completely tossed out the window due to someone else trying to steal the necklace from the vault it had been stored in, he couldn’t believe his luck that the person hadn’t been successful in their attempt only a small keypad had stopped them. But that had caused everyone to bulk down on security for the necklace, more security and more patrol routes which meant a harder job but he had been up against tougher odds.

  He scanned the streets below for Marinette, it wasn’t the best idea to invite her in on the job not when he had no plan and Plagg… although he had been the one to suggest to him that inviting Marinette to help would be a great insurance policy to make sure that she didn’t decide to tell anyone had changed his mind.

  Adrien had long since learned that Marinette liked to stick to a schedule even more so since she had somehow managed to wrangle a roll in the Christmas production on top of her role in the Greek Gods one which had finished the night before. He started to grow worried when she didn’t show within her usual time frame, his feet paced back and forth across the rooftop before they took off in the direction of her workplace. His eyes stayed trained on the streets below, he had memorised where every stone, roof tile and leap was ages ago, he couldn’t see her so he circled back several times but he always ended up where he started with still no sign of her. His eyes shot back to her apartment it was still in complete darkness, he sighed and pulled the set of lock picks from his small utility belt and prepared to sneak over to it.

  The cat ears atop his head flicked around wildly at the sounds on the street bellow keeping track of the cars and people on it, when the time was right he extended his baton and pole vaulted across to the slanted roof, his feet made very little sound when he landed. Slipping off the roof he approached the front door and gently knocked on it, he got no reply so he slipped the lock picks in.

  Her apartment was a mess, pillows and blankets were strewn across the living room, a lampshade in the hallway had been disturbed and there was a pile of freshly folded laundry on the dining room table it was the only thing that was neat. Carefully he stepped over a few pillows, his night vision made the room a lot easier to see as he made his way towards the hall.

  “Marinette?” he called out into the dark house.

  The sound of someone softly crying reached his ears, he tipped toed towards the sound, he checked the spare bedroom first to see that it had been returned to its original state, he turned to Marinette’s bedroom door and pressed his ear to it. Marinette’s almost silent sobs were coming from within.

  He knocked lightly on the door, “Marinette are you okay?”

  He pushed on the door and it slowly opened, his eyes fell upon her curled up body underneath the brightly coloured blankets, the moonlight illuminated her from the window above the bed. His feet carried him over there, his bag was discarded by the bed, he threw the blanket off of her and got into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could to try and take away any of the pain she was feeling, he murmured as many reassurances as he could to her to stop the sea of tears running down her face.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take her ice skating last week. Her text messages had said that she was fine, she had assured him that the stresses of that week had finally gotten to her and she had seemed fine earlier that day but maybe she was very good at hiding her pain just like he was. He shifted the way she was laying so that she was now laying on his chest and waited patiently for her tears to dry.

  He wanted to know what had hurt her so badly, her pain was emotional, not physical, it left no marks that could tell him what had caused it only the tears showed that she had experienced something.

  Steadily the tears and whimpering stopped, she sniffled and her head moved to look at him.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded, “Yeah…” her voice came out extremely small.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She shook her head at first then changed her mind and nodded it.

  “There’s this girl…” she started, “Lila, she… She and Chloe were bad when we were growing up but Chloe grew out of her mean-spiritedness for the most part anyway but Lila… Lila never did, she never grew out of her lies either.

  We all went to the same little dance studio, It’s hard to believe now but Lila and I were friends for a year, it was a month or so before the start of high school and for some reason, she just started to hate me, she made up lies, started rumours the works. I had helped her a bit before I caught on to what she was doing and today… today she went a little too far, one of the things she had said really-“

  “Got to you…” he didn’t mean to cut her off.

  She nodded, “They announced who got the role today much to Chloe’s disappointment but I’ve known for a while thanks to you. Lila took the opportunity to rub it in.”

  “Huh?”

  Sighing she explained, “She got the role- She got the role and decided to use it to her advantage,” her voice was full of anger, “she made up a fresh set of lies and I was… I was kicked out of the production,” her anger was replaced by tears, she quickly wiped them away.

  He pulled her closer.

  “But… Never mind, what are you doing here,” she asked changing the subject.

  He smiled and felt around in the bag beside him until he found the small box the mask sat in he pulled it out and handed it to her, “I was going to see if you were going to live up to your promise but if you don’t then…”

  Slowly Marinette opened the box and inspected the mask, her fingers ran along the hours of embroidery he had put into it, the low light that peered in got caught in the light pink threading that blended into the black threading.

  “How?” she questioned, “How’d you make this?”

  “I had a little too much time on my hands,” he admitted.

  “Thank you… It’s beautiful…” her fingers traced the hidden embroidery one last time before she pressed it to her face, “So… When are we going?”

  “Huh?” he said a little in shock.

  “You said that you wanted to see if I was going to live up to my promise.”

  “Princess I don’t mean to hurt your feelings but you don’t seem-“

  “I’m helping Chat-“

  He shook his head, “You-“

  “What do I need to do?”

  He sighed, there was no way he was going to convince her otherwise now, “Black clothing, something you can comfortably move in.”

  Marinette shot up and ran from the room heading for the spare wardrobe in the spare bedroom, he laughed to himself, he had never seen someone so enthusiastic to be stealing before, he remembered how nervous he was for his first job and he knew as soon as Marinette found out that he essentially had no plan she would be a gigantic ball of nerves.

  Adrien got up from the bed and followed her out into the hall, some clothes had spewed out into the hallway, he tipped toed around them and headed into the living room.

  “Chat? How do I keep the mask on?”

  “You don’t need it yet so don’t bother,” he called back to her.

  The bathroom door slammed shut behind him in response.

  He looked around and sighed, slowly he picked up a pillow and placed it back onto its spot on the lounge, its brothers soon joined it as did the blankets. The small number of cups made their way into her cupboards all washed and dried, it was the least he could do for her after all she had housed him or over a week.

  “I feel depressingly ordinary,” she said from behind him.

  He spun around to face her and suddenly all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Her hair had been tied into an elaborate bun held in place with a delicate pink ribbon slightly darker than the threading on the mask in her hands. The rest of her outfit was black just as he had asked, black skinny jeans, a black long-sleeved woollen shirt and a simple pair of black winter boots.

  “That- That was quick,” he stuttered.

  “Yeah… I'm used to getting dressed in a rush before.”

  “Yeah…”

  “So, What’s the plan?”

  He pulled his eyes off of her and headed over to her dining table, he set his baton down in the centre of it, the green paw sat upright. Marinette crossed her arms and walked over to him, he smirked and watched her face as he reached over and gently tapped the top of it. The Pawprint flashed and a grid-like light scanned the length of the table before it rendered in a 3D model of the opera house completely made out of green hard light.

  “That’s not possible,” Marinette whispered, “That technology doesn’t exist, How-“

  “One day I’ll tell you but right now I have to fill you in on what’s left of my plan.”

  She closed her open mouth and leaned in closer to hear him.

  “There’s a truck coming tonight,” he explained.

  The model zoomed out to include the surrounding streets and buildings, a small armoured truck not unlike the ones used to transport money to and from banks pulled up outside the opera house.

  “It will be transporting the necklace,” he continued, “Normally it would already be sitting in the safe but someone tried to take it from its bank vault so it was delayed in an attempt to keep it safe. The Gala is tomorrow night and will be immediately transported back to its new and improved vault afterwards so we only have a slim window to operate with.”

  “Wait, wait- Hold up. We’re stealing it? Tonight?” she squeaked.

  He smiled, “That we are Princess.”

  “But how?”

  “We’ll I planned an easy heist but…”

  “But?”

  He sighed, “The person who hit the bank spooked the management. Originally it was only five guards on scheduled to patrol the building tonight but now…” he sighed again, “We have over twenty to keep track of.”

  He reached back over and tapped the paw, the streets and buildings around the Opera House disappeared. Slowly it lifted off the table, the basement appeared before the floors separated making it easier to see the interior walls, corridors and rooms.

  “The safe is here,” he pointed to the room he had explored just below where the stage was, “I’ll need to crack the safe but that shouldn’t be a problem once were in the room we just have to get into the room.”

     Marinette leaned up against the table, her hand went to touch the floating model only for it to phase through it.

  “How do you collapse it back into…”

  Adrien understood what she wanted. Unlike her, his hand didn’t phase through it, he placed the floors back on top of each other, like Lego blocks they all snapped into place.

  “You’re missing a door.”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s a door right here, she said pointing to a small part of the theatre near the stage.

  He frowned and pinched at the map making it zoom in, Marinette pointed to the spot again and he could see that there was, in fact, no door, he wondered how he could have missed that, he had spent hours mapping the place and he missed one tiny door.

  “How had I missed that,” he muttered himself.

  She shrugged, “Maybe because your maps were old,” she replied, “The door was put in when they had to put it in for fire safety, they had the stage area renovated three years and the old fire doors had been removed,” she pointed to a few more doors on the map, “The new one leads just around the corner to that room, well actually it’s the one below it.”

  He looked at her then back at the map, “You know the route well?” he questioned.

  She nodded and he took her hand in his and led it to his baton. The map updated as soon as her palm touched the paw.

  He smiled at her, “Thank you,” he looked back at the map and the new corridor, a small but incomplete plan formed in his mind.

  He returned the map back to its original state and looked at the upper windows for a new entry point. He settled on a small round window that led to a room where they kept the extra ropes and lights.

  “How do you feel about sneaking through a window that’s less than fifty meters wide.”

  “Uhh… not that confidently, why?”

  Adrien pointed to the window on the map, “Because that’s our entry point.”

  She leaned in and saw the small window, “I better not get stuck.”

  He chuckled and disabled the map.

  “Any questions?” he asked.

  “Why am I coming with you, I mean I’m coming with you anyway but why?”

  He shrugged, “because I want some company and because I’ve got to rope you in somehow.”

  “You’re making sure I don’t tell anyone.”

  “Just a precaution Princess, I assure you. I’m sure you’re very committed and won’t tell because Lila made sure of that a long time ago didn’t she?”

  She nodded slowly, “yeah…”

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I’ll understand if you don’t”

  He wished he knew what was going on inside her head at that moment. Was she second guessing herself, questioning her every word and action? He knew she had a strong moral compass, was it screaming at her not to go with him, not to go through with her revenge against the girl that had wronged her or had she already made up her mind and was now sticking with it.

  “I’m going,” her voice was strong but it quivered a little bit near the end.

  So she had made up her mind but she still had a part of her that was telling her that it was wrong.

  “When are we leaving?” she asked.

  “Eleven,” he replied, “they’ll unload the truck at eleven forty-five, the earlier we get there and settle into place the easier it will be to sneak in, they’ll have lookouts scanning the rooftops around the building so we can’t risk sneaking across after it's been unloaded.”

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into a plan that you’ve only sketched out a few minutes ago.”

  “Mainly it’s the exit strategy that I’m worried about.”

  “Right so why are we stealing a necklace that’s been in a ballet since Victorian England?”

  “Like I keep telling you Princess, that’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”

  She groaned and swiped her pair of gloves and keys off the counter behind her. She headed towards her front door before turning back to face him, “You coming or what?”

  He smiled and took the keys from her, “How about we try the window this time, it’s best to not be seen on any traffic cameras.”

  The window he had first come through when he had first entered her apartment was once again a little difficult to open but using most if not all of his strength the window came free from its resting place. Marinette went through the window first while Adrien made sure that he had everything in his backpack including Marinette’s mask which she had left on the countertop. He directed her up a few ledges and pipes so she could climb up the roof, he followed her out as soon as she was off the ledge just out the window. He smirked and extended his baton beating her up to the roof, he held out his hand for her and the look on her face was one that he would never forget for as long as he lived. He swore he heard her murmur something along the lines of ‘how does he do that’ making him laugh internally.

  “Jump on,” he told her.

  “No what- you’re still injured,” she tried to argue.

  “I’m fine besides it’ll be quicker.”

  She rolled her eyes, he handed her his backpack before she jumped up onto his back, she shifted slightly then settled.

  “Hold on Princess.”

  Her grasp tightened around his neck, he skipped a few steps before he slowly started running eventually he was running full speed across the rooftops to their destination.

  Marinette rested her head in the crook of his neck, he was glad that she had adjusted her arms so that they were now wrapped under his shoulders because she would have been able to feel the deep purr emanating from the centre of his chest, his cheeks started to glow red hot, he shook his head and picked up his pace; it was surprising just how much of an effect she had on him, each and every time no matter how little she did all she had to do was show him a little affection, nobody else had this much of an effect on him. He shook his head again, he really had to get his head in the game, he had a jewel heist to pull off.

 She yawned and stretched as her mind pulled herself out of a deep sleep, a soft breeze snuck through her clothing causing her to shiver in the cold night air. Her eyes scanned the small room to see what had dared to wake her from sleep, Chat was still peering out of the small window in the clock tower roof. She yawned again before slowly crawling her way over to the thief’s side, he handed her the small pair of binoculars he was using and pointed over to a spot on the street below; she raised the binoculars up and looked where he was pointing.

 The armoured truck they had been waiting for slowly pulled up to the building, it was a little hard to see but she could see a group of men quickly moving around the truck, some were in suits others were in the uniform of the company displayed on the truck, she observed as they pulled a large metal box out of the back of the truck and raced it back to the building, she passed the binoculars back to Chat so he could see. She waited for him to give the signal to move.

 Marinette really couldn’t believe that she was actually going through with this, it went against so many of her core values and yet… she was doing this. She had been struggling against her own mind for the hour and a half they had been sitting there waiting for the truck to arrive. Chat didn’t seem to have any trouble with what he was doing, did he ever have to argue with his morals? It was the one thing that plagued her mind as she tried to bury what made her her. Her mind tried to bring up the risks, getting caught was at the top of her list, She wondered what her parents would think of their daughter becoming friends with a wanted criminal then following him into his profession. What ifs clawed their way up to the forefront of her mind.

  “Mari, shh… nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

 His voice was a dagger to her clouded thoughts.

  “We need to wait for the guards to settle a little bit, they need to get into a rhythm that way it’ll be easier to track them.”

 She nodded her head and settled back down next to him, “Are you nervous?”

 He nodded, “Always, you know, you’re my first partner in this, others have tried but- I don’t know something different about you and I can’t pin it down.”

 She smiled brightly at his words as they filled her with confidence. Chat looked back out the window and she instantly knew something was wrong, she quickly looked out the window to see a shadow run across the building across from the Opera House.

  “What’s-“ she started only to be cut off.

  “Someone else is out there casing, we need to go now before they get to the necklace first.”

 He pulled her to her feet and grabbed her mask from the windowsill as well as a bottle of some sort of clear liquid from his belt, he drew lines with it on the mask.

  “Relax your face.”

 She did as he asked and he gently pressed it to her face. She was surprised at how well it stuck, she wiggled her eyebrows a little bit to try and get it to sit better.

  “You ready?” he asked.

 She barely had time to respond when he lifted her up into his arms, she kicked out at him forcing him to set her down when so she could jump onto his back. It was uncomfortable but she resigned herself to holding on as tight as she could because there was no way he was going to set her back down now so she could walk the fifty feet to their entry point which as she looked at it was much smaller then Chat had said it was. She stared at the small window, unsure of how she was going to squeeze through it, she knew she could fit through it, it would just be a little difficult. She looked back at Chat and at his wide shoulders, there was no way he was going to fit through the tiny window and he seemed to come to the same realisation as she did.

  “Nothing seems to be going to plan right now does it?” he said trying to lighten the mood. “Here I’ll give you a boost.”

  “Chat you’re forgetting something, I can’t crack a safe,” she reminded him.

  “Well there’s no time like the present,” he murmured, she could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to come up with a new plan, “I-“

 She sighed, a plan of her own started to form, the only trouble was convincing Chat but as he said, ‘there’s no time like the present.’

  “Chat, do you have something along the lines of a communicator or something?”

 He frowned but still answered her strange question, “yeah… I haven’t found a use for it yet, why?”

  “Does that-“ she pointed to the metal stick on his back.

  “Work with the communicator? Yeah, it does, why?”

  “Can you walk me through cracking a safe?”

  “Sure?” he answered still not understanding where her line of questioning was going.

  “Are you willing to put all of your trust in me and my cobbled together plans?”

 His eyes narrowed, “What are you planning Princess?”

  “You won’t be able to fit through that window,” she explained, “and it’ll take us too long to regroup if you-“

  “we,” he corrected.

  “if we want the necklace I have to go in alone and you have to stay here and guide me through.”

 He sighed, “Fine…” He pressed something on the bottom of the stick and a small circular dot appeared on his finger, “slip this in your ear it doesn’t matter what way.”

 She took it from him and inspected it, it didn’t look like an earpiece but she still slipped it in her ear.

  “So… There is a list of things I need you to do okay?”

 She nodded.

 He slipped the backpack off of his back, “In this bag, there are replicas of the earrings, necklace and Tiara as well as a card in the front pocket, replace all the jewellery with the replicas and leave the card at the back of the safe, okay?”

 She nodded again as she slipped her gloves on.

  “I know you’ll want to touch everything in the room but only touch the safe, everything has been covered in a layer of dust I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Anything else?” she asked.

 He shook his head, “I’ll let you know if think of anything else.”

 Chat bent down and joined his fingers together to give her a boost, she put her foot in his palms.

  “One. Two. Three and Up,” he lifted her up and she clambered up awkwardly in through the window.

 Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dark room which was extremely dusty. She sneezed and Chat laughed on the other side of the wall.

  “Chat, guide me out of this room,” she whined.

 The earpiece in her ear crackled, the slightly muffled sound of Chat’s snickering echoed through it before he got his act together and told her that the door was straight ahead of her. Marinette kept her ears sharply trained on every little noise as Chat guided her down from the room she had been in. She wandered slowly across the crosswalks and down past the dressing rooms until she reached the door by the stage. Chat had warned her each and every time a guard was on route to her and she would have to duck into an empty corridor. She was terrified of getting caught, her heart raced way above what she was normally used to, her feet stumbled and tripped so badly that she had to use the walls around her as support.

  “Princess are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah I’m fine just- petrified.”

  “Princess, you won’t get caught trust me, you can do this it’s only a few more feet.”

 She nodded her head and started walking further down the hall, she took her time heading down the corridor behind the door near the stage so she could calm her racing heart. She pushed on the exit door and was blinded by the bright white law in the hall, her feet slowly carried her up the steep steps to the floor above. Chat guided her down the halls to… the prop storage room. She frowned, Chat had to be wrong.

  “Chat this is…”

 He ignored her comment, “I broke the lock a few days ago just in case.”

  “Chat this is the-“

  “Princess you need to move now!” he ordered, “there’s a guard coming.”

 She stood there frozen as she glanced behind her, the start of a man’s shadow appeared on the wall behind her and it was growing which usually meant the person was getting closer. She groaned and pushed open the door and gently shut it behind her. She stood alone in the dark room as she waited for the guy to pass by before she dared to turn on the light or speak to Chat.

  “Mari, Are you okay?”

  “Yeah…” she whispered once she knew the man was gone, “what do I do now?” he hands felt along the walls for the light switch.

  “The light switch is to your right around waist height.”

  “How’d you know I was looking for that?”

  “I always assume, you got it?”

 She felt around and found it, the room literally took her breath away, she could see all the original costumes she had spent hours in her teen years trying to recreate. She wanted nothing more than to run her fingers over it but Chat’s warning echoed back to her so she refrained from doing what her heart desired.

  “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Chat’s said in her ear.

  “It is, the jewels may be a sight for you but the costumes, I can see ones that everyone believes were destroyed in a fire almost twenty years ago.”

 He laughed, “I wish I could let you steal one but you have to fit back through this tiny little window again but we need to get back on track, do you see a black safe, it’ll be very old and have a gazelle engraved on it.”

  “Yeah,” she replied walking over to it, “what do I do now?”

  “Try something for me please, forty-three, twenty-five, ten, fifty-eight, twelve and…”

  “And?” she asked turning the dial on the safe to the numbers he had read out.

  “I- I can’t make out the last number, it's been smudged.”

  “Great,” she groaned, “So how do I crack a safe?”

  “Feel it in your fingers, the safe is old so it should make a loud clunk on the last number, just turn the dial slowly and listen, you’ll know when you find the right number.”

 She rolled her eyes but complied. Slowly she turned the dial but didn’t feel the massive clunk he had described so she turned it slower, her fingers picked up on some small little ticks then… clunk. She shot up excitedly and tried the handle, it opened with very little effort.

  “I- I did it…” she said half in shock.

  “You know what to do now.”

  “Replace everything in the safe with your replicas,” she replied.

 Carefully she removed the necklace from its black velvet box then the earrings and finally the tiara replacing each with their almost identical replicas, the only difference was the bright green glass emerald at the centre of the replica where’s the original had the pink diamond. She placed all real jewels in the black boxes that the replicas had come in, she ran her fingers over ‘Le Grande Gazelle Blanche’ one last time before she closed the lid on it for it was more beautiful in person and then she was filled with regret its beauty would now be locked away from the world, nobody would be able to see you brightly he diamonds shone under the stage lights, it was going to be sealed inside some rich person's vault or taken apart to be sold as separate pieces. Marinette kicked her moral compass aside and place the small little note at the back of the safe before she slid the rest of the boxes back into the safe. She shut the safe and made sure that the dial had been turned back to zero before she left the room.

 Navigating her way back to Chat was a lot easier, she was quicker on her feet and she had already made her way down once it wasn’t going to be that hard to find her way back plus the urge to get back to him quicker fuelled her to make even tougher decisions that led to even riskier moves. Chat kept telling her to slow down that she didn’t have to be so bold but she ignored him until she got herself in a dead end.

 Marinette froze at the sound of voices on the other side of the stage door, they were loud. Slowly Marinette opened the door and crack and spied two very tall muscular men entrenched in deep conversation with each other. They were so deeply involved with each other that they didn’t notice her but there was still no way that she was going to be able to sneak past them. She gently shut the door and gently hissed a few words under her breath.

  “M, don’t panic I’ll get you out of there,” he promised.

  “Chat, I’m sorry I- I should have listened.”

  “Just stay still okay.”

  “Chat?” she asked picking up on that something was wrong, “What’s wrong?”

  “Stay where you are…”

  “Chat?” Her voice thick with worry.

  “Trust me no one will see you,” the earpiece crackled and then he was gone, there was nothing but silence leaving her alone with her own thoughts.

 She peeked out the door again and sighed, she really didn’t want to be trapped in the small corridor but she did as she was commanded and stayed still even if she wanted to head back the way she had come and try to find another way out. The sound of the door she had entered in through opened and her panic started to grow as the lights flickered on above her. Her panic rose faster as the person’s footsteps grew closer, she was now cornered and trapped and the one person who could calm her or even help her had left her for dead. She regretted ever trusting him because now she was all alone about to get caught stealing a priceless necklace. She peeked out the door one last time and back at the person who only had to turn a corner before he saw her. She said a small apology to her parents and closed her eyes and waited.

 Her earpiece crackled, “Marinette start running, start running Princess,” Chat urged.

 She didn’t know why she was trusting him anymore after he had left her but she did, she listened and ran, she threw open the door, the two men in suits were gone. An explosion rocked and shook the building, she stumbled slightly but kept running for that small little window three floors up.

 She almost took the door to the small room right of its hinges because of how fast she ran into it, she wanted to be free from the building she would call home during the day. The small little window was still open, she slipped the backpack off in one fell swoop and threw it through the window before she leapt up and tried to pull herself up through it after the bag. Chat helped pull her up through it as her lungs struggled to get air.

  “Princess, we have to get going, before they find us.”

 She nodded her head and scooped up the backpack before she jumped back onto the thief’s back. He ran as soon as she made contact with his back, she took the few moments she had to catch her breath, she really didn’t know when she would be able to again.

 She took in the sights and sounds around her, she came to the realisation that they were on the wrong side of Paris, her apartment was in the opposite direction.

  “Chat? Where are we going?”

  “Safehouse,” he said, “I think it’d be best if you stayed there for a few days, I pulled a dangerous stunt to get you okay of there so please don’t argue.”

 She nodded her head against his back, “Okay…”

 She focused on the Eiffel Tower as they ran past it, it was the only thing that could be seen across most of Paris, the amber orange lights twinkled softly against the deep blue midnight sky. The anxiety she had felt washed away and was replaced by one of elation, she had just helped pull off a heist, it wasn’t a small one like the time she had broken into the principal’s office to give Max his robot back, no this was a full-on jewel heist.

  “Chat? Why’d you start stealing?”

 He chuckled, “The thrill.”

  “Does it always feel like this?”

  “Yep,” he replied popping the ‘p’, “and it never gets old.”

 This was a feeling she could definitely get used to… If she wanted to do it ever again of course.

Made for @marichatmay

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[ofophvlia]

i was cheated by you, and i think you know when ( she’s talkin to god btw )

LILY JAMES  :  CISFEMALE  !  that’s just cage, ophelia  -  the twenty-five year old from the mill. she has been a member for three months and works as a medic. i heard she’s been dubbed the lost soul because she’s skillful & empathetic, but if you look a bit closer, they’re also worrisome & private. wild baby’s breath, worn down books, hand stitched embroidery, & old tree swings are usually associated with her, but you’ll also hear them humming BABY MINE by betty noyes, so be on the lookout for those signs.

HI I’M BEA ( twenty big ones, she/her ) back at it again with the subpar characters and below average writing ability.  i hope you enjoy my newest bab, ophelia.  she is an actual human angel™️ but she is very sad at present so please handle with care.  cont. reading to learn more and hmu if you wanna plot with her !!!!

iM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG god i don’t blame u if you don’t read it all lol just skip to the end.  

ok so where do we begin.  like it is with many, it is often hard for ophelia to remember life before the outbreak.  fifteen years is a long time to be living in a never ending circle of hell, especially when you were only ten when it started

she grew up in anchorage.  her father was a doctor and her mother was a nurse.  they met at work & fell in love.  a tale as old as time, but unfortunately these two didn’t get time to live happily ever after

when the outbreak happened, they didn’t flee.  her parents both wanted to stay in the city and help.  they both worked in a clinic that was set up in a stadium.  ophelia tagged along, always assisting her parents whenever she could.  she picked up a lot, and by the time she was in her twenties, she was as close to a full fledged nurse as she could be without a degree.

when she was about sixteen, a team of doctors was requested for a rescue mission in the city center- one of the most dangerous places in the area.  a school being used as a safe house had been overtaken by the infection and they needed people to assist with search and rescue and provide immediate medical attention. her father volunteered when no one else stepped forward.  he kissed her goodbye, went off, and never returned.

one day, around year fourteen, a patient came in.  he was barely conscious and looked awful.  luckily he wasn’t infected- no bites, but he had suffered a nasty fall.  with enough care and treatment, he miraculously lived.  ophelia was assigned to his bed, and she visited him often to check up, change his bandages, and bring him rations.  

the more time they spent together, the more they took a liking to each other.  she didn’t have many friends, a few other nurses she got along with, her mother, but people came and went so often.  but this guy, max, was different.  he was taken with her, and the feeling was quite mutual.

after he fully recovered, he stuck around the hospital.  he volunteered, taking in shipments of supplies, helping where he could.  mostly, he just wanted to be near ophelia, and she certainly didn’t mind.  dare she say, they were in love, and despite the world crumbling around her, she���d never been happier.

eventually, she found out she was pregnant.  though she was nothing but terrified, having max eased her anxiety.  she knew they could manage it, together.  

however, her bubble was soon shattered when the clinic became invaded by the infected.  runners broke in, patients unable to save themselves were left vulnerable.  the alarms went off, the stadium was to be locked down to contain the outbreak - no one in or out.  max grabbed ophelia and pulled her through the crowd, she screamed for her mother but it was barely audible through the shrieks of the others around them.  the gates were closing and everyone was desperate for escape.  max pulled her through, slipping through a side passage and out the gate before it could close and they didn’t stop running until they were as far from the stadium as possible.

they spent the next few days searching for her mother.  she didn’t want to stop looking, she needed to find her, to know she was alright.  but they never did.  to this day, she isn’t sure if she ever made it out, but she doesn’t have high hopes.

they decided they needed to leave the city.  it was getting far too dangerous.  there had always been talk around the clinic of a town not far off, a society- settlements.  it was perhaps the closest place to go with some sort of order, some sort of safety.  she didn’t want to leave, she couldn’t leave without knowing what happened to her mom, but deep down, she knew she had to go.  now she had something she had to protect.

they started the journey to soldotna.  they found a group that took them across the arm for a pretty penny.  they were left with basically nothing, and trecked on towards the settlement.  

they were both tough, and smart, but ophelia had never been out like this before.  she always stayed at the stadium, she rarely ventured out into the city, and never into the wild open air.  she didn’t really know how to handle herself, and she was always on edge.

a few days into their journey, they came upon a group of stalkers.  with nothing to protect themselves, they were left with no choice but to run.  but the stalkers were fast & ophelia and max were weak with exhaustion and hunger.  they tried to get away but they were no match.  max pushed her ahead, yelling at her to go as he pulled back, letting the stalkers overtake him.  she screamed, looking back at her beloved being eaten alive.  she wanted to run towards him, to help him, to save him.  but she knew she couldn’t.  she couldn’t think of herself anymore, of what she wanted.  she could no longer care for herself, but only for her child.  

she ran, she ran and she cried and she didn’t let herself stop moving until her legs couldn’t carry her anymore.  she was scared and alone, but she kept on going.  eventually, she reached soldotna.  it was the mill she found first.  she was starving, dirty, and ragged.  all she could mutter when she reached the outskirts was that she was pregnant.  they took her in, and as soon as she was cleaned and fed she threw herself into work, promising to make herself useful as a thank you for the settlement’s kindness

ever since, ophelia has been loyal to the mill.  she has been around for a little over three months, and is now well into her second trimester and creeping up on her third.  it’s a bit of work eating for two in an apocalyptic world and constantly working with a small human draining all your energy but she refuses to slow down.  she thinks if she does, she’ll die.

she’s lost herself.  the girl with the golden hair that was once filled with energy, hope, and light.  the girl max loved, she died with him.  she feels a darkness glooming over her, but she tries to stay positive for her little one, despite how unexcited she is to bring a child into such a cruel world

connections

im so bad at these im sorry

maybe someone who found her when she first came to the mill, someone she’s sort of bonded with or always felt indebted too??

some friends !!! to make her feel !!! less sad all the time !!!

some cute fluffy stuff would be 👀nice idk

maybe someone she knew in anchorage that also happens to be here?  someone that came through the clinic?

im down for family connections!  maybe a cousin she hasn’t seen in years? heck i could even write a sibling into her backstory

im so sorry if this has typos lol

[itbeajen]

Swapped | Game!AU

Companion piece to Omorfos Kosmo

Studying is not efficient in groups. It never was, and perhaps it never will be. You absolutely hated studying in groups. It was even more annoying when the person who had asked your for help decided to let his volleyball teammates tag along. You understood how hard it was to book a study room in the library, but you didn't think he was going to bring so many people with him. You sighed for the nth time as you idly scrolled through your laptop as you listened to them squabble over the correct English term. "For the last time, I'm telling you that's not how you use that word in English." "No! But if you read the definitions, it makes sense!" "Goshiki, Shirabu, don't be so loud in the library," Semi sighed yet again. He glanced over at you. A part of him felt bad that they had invaded the study room you managed to book. Although you had already consented to it prior to the volleyball players knowing you'd be there, he still felt a twinge of guilt as you had purposely sat at the very corner of the room in order to not disturb them. It wasn't as though you didn't know them, you surely did, after all, you were one of the candidates for the manager position. But you had ultimately ended up choosing your own club activities over volleyball, much to the disappointment of Tendou and Goshiki, both of them know you can play volleyball after all. "[F/N]-chan," Tendou cooed your name, and Semi watches in amusement when your face scrunches up in annoyance and you unwillingly remove an earbud. "Yes, Tendou-senpai?" "You can speak English right? Help us on correcting our grammar." "Senpai..." you sighed, "I'm not your tutor, I'm helping Tsutomu-kun."

You purposely say his name loud enough for him to hear you from the other end of the room and you raise your eyebrows at him. He gulped and muttered, "Excuse me, Shirabu-senpai." The setter watched with a smug smirk as you went over his worksheets and you give him a thin smile, "Why is it that you're still messing up the same stuff I taught you just a few moments ago?" "Shirabu-senpai said I was wrong on those parts! I told him I wasn't and-" Goshiki stops complaining though when he sees your narrow your eyes at the setter. Something about him always rubbed you in the wrong way, maybe it was because he was so blatantly rude sometimes, or just blunt. Too blunt. You rolled your eyes, unknowingly doing it right at him before turning back to Goshiki. "Here, if you do this..." Shirabu's smug smirk fades away upon seeing your attitude. Semi watched as the second year setter basically regarded you the same way he would to Goshiki; annoying, troublesome, meddlesome - those are just some of the words he'd probably use. But when Goshiki leaves your small little tutoring island, he seems a bit happier, his steps lighter as he revises yet another English assignment. But you appeared a bit more tired, as though tutoring Goshiki was literally draining the energy out of you. I just wanna go home and play Omorfos already. You pouted as you idly scrolled through your laptop again. You were expressionless as you read over notes and watched video lectures on certain topics that were stumping you. Tendou was seated in front of you, not bothering you, but clearly doing his work and occasionally asking you to revise his English. Which didn't make much sense to Semi, because last time he checked, Tendou was the best of the third years in that subject. "Ne, [F/N]-chan," Tendou asked and you looked up from your notebook, adorably tilting your head to one side, "Do you play any games?" Almost immediately, Semi sighed and muttered, "Why would she play games? She's a straight A student and she's in choir." "I do," you responded, taking everyone by surprise. It was no secret that the entire volleyball team played MMORPG's together, and it was definitely no secret that they slowly dragged the other sports in Shiratorizawa to join them. Tendou's eyes lit up with mischief and curiosity and he asked, "What kind?!" "Handhelds," you responded. Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. You give him a small smile, and asked, "Why do you ask, Tendou-senpai?" "Mmm, I thought it'd be neat if you joined us in playing a new MMORPG." "A new one?" you parroted. You were pretty sure you knew which one he was talking about though. You've heard Goshiki excitedly talking about it once and you almost choked on your lunch that day. You were forever grateful that no one besides Kenma and Tsukishima knew of your gaming habits. I can't even imagine how the volleyball dorks would respond if they knew I played Omorfos as well. Tendou nodded eagerly, and he said, "It's called Omorfos Kosmo. It's a pretty new MMORPG, it's pretty fun! There's like five different classes and the gameplay is really cool too! There's like-" "Let her study, Tendou." Ushijima cuts in. He glances at you and you blink in surprise. Huh, he hasn't said a word all day now that I think about it. Must be really into studying. "But Wakatoshi! If she can't be our manager, wouldn't it be neat if she could play games with us and be our strategist?!" "But I'm the current strategist," Shirabu muttered and Tendou laughed, "Not for long. I gather intel at a much faster rate than you do." Shirabu frowned and he muttered, "That's because you have that one mercenary friend of yours." "Oh yeah, Ying is the absolute best, she's even helping me master crafting!" Tendou exclaimed happily. You stared at him in slight shock, although you were desperately hoping none of that was being portrayed. Hold. On. The person I'm helping with crafting is... Guess. No way, that means... You wanted to hit yourself in the face. I should have known that there was something overly familiar with him. Oh my god, and I've been so rude to just call him Guess... Wait, but there's no honorifics in that game anyways. "[F/N]-chan?" Tendou called your name again and you finally snapped out of your thoughts and you looked at him, properly, this time and he smirked, "What's wrong?" Immediately your face scrunched up in disgust and you muttered, "Nothing, you're distracting me from studying, Tendou-senpai." "But [F/N]-chan!!" "Tendou, leave her alone, she clearly feels uncomfortable," Semi finally spoke up. The look of relief that flashed across your features did not go unnoticed by the former main setter and he gives you a small smile which you returned tenfold. Tendou pouted as he made his way over to Semi, "But Semi-Semi, it's so fun teasing [F/N]-chan." "She was clearly uncomfortable," Semi repeats with a sigh. He'd never understand Tendou.

Ying: You're in a good mood today Guess. Guess: Ololo, you can tell? Ying: Yes, you've been singing into the voice chat for the past hour. Guess: You should sing with me. Let me hear your lovely voice Ying! Ying: I don't have a mic, so nope. I'll just deal with listening to you. You watched as Tendou's character jumped around randomly as he bothered other people in town by running around them in circles. You stared at your computer screen, a part of you was too tired to do any real training, but another part of you really wanted to figure out that AI for the new raid boss. Guess has entered the voice chat. "Ying," Tendou called your in game name softly, and you were surprised by the tone of his voice. It was always so loud and, if you could describe it as such, eccentric that this soft tone was something you weren't used to. Ying: What? "Can you confirm for me that you're a female?" Ying: . . . Ying: I am. --" "I mean, well," Tendou sheepishly laughed, "My guild mates don't believe me." Ying: Geez, what do you want me to do? "I don't know, talk to me." You hesitated and looked at your mic and then typed in, But no mic. "Yingggg, I want confirmation," Tendou whined. You laughed, and quickly retorted, You won't lose anything if you don't get confirmation though. "Well, no," Tendou sighed, "Is it weird if I told you I'd like to meet you in person?" Ying: Yes. Ying: Sorry Guess. Ying: >< I'm just not comfortable with that. "I guess I crossed the boundary limits, huh?" he chuckled and he asked, "What am I allowed to know then?" Ying: I'm a first year in high school somewhere in Japan. "Oh? So you're younger." Ying: Should I call you senpai? "Ew, no," Tendou laughed, "I like it how it is. Just calling each other by our names." Ying: Haha, okie. Well, I have dinner, I'll talk to you later Guess. "Bye bye Ying." You logged off the voice chat, completely shutting off your laptop in the process as you threw on your Shiratorizawa jacket, only to pause. You looked at your hands, noticing the jacket was much longer than you last remembered and you blinked. So did I shrink? Or did my jacket grow? You flailed your arms around and looked around your dorm room. Mm, but too lazy to fish out another jacket. This is probably one of the volleyball members. You gently took it off and inspected it, and you nodded upon noticing there was no choir logo on it. Oh yeah, definitely a volleyball member's. Oh well, I'm sure I'll run into Goshiki at the dining hall. "That's not your sweater," a dorm mate commented as they passed by you. You pout and you shoved your hands awkwardly into the pockets. You were wearing a mere black tshirt and gym shorts underneath and you sighed, "I know, I probably mixed it up at the study session earlier today." "Well, good luck finding your sweater." "Thanks," you muttered as you made your way towards the dining hall.

"Ara? What'd you do to your jacket, Shirabu?" "It's. Not. Mine," he muttered in between bites. It was one of the rare times the entire volleyball team grabbed dinner together, and of course, Shirabu's jacket went missing. The jacket he currently had on him was a bit too small for him. His entire arm wasn't covered, with the skin just before his wrist exposed, and of course, the embroidery of "Soprano" was listed on the right shoulder. He had originally worn it all day until someone in his dorm had pointed out that they never knew Shirabu had a girlfriend, let alone one in choir. The poor boy was so flustered and confused, it wasn't until he took it off that he realized it wasn't his. Goshiki sat down, and his eyes widened, "Isn't that [L/N]'s jacket?" "Is it?" Shirabu asked as he raised his arms. He didn't bother taking it off though, the air conditioning was too strong to take it off. Goshiki nodded and he said, "I need to tell her, she's been bothering me about it since she noticed." Shirabu raised an eyebrow and asked, "Does that mean she has mine?"

Let's see... Tsutomu said that he's eating near the back with the volleyball members... I was planning on getting just a to-go box and leaving right after, but... you stared at your sleeves. Yeah I guess I'll have to return this and hope they have my jacket. You quickly dialed up his number, waiting for him to answer, but was instead met with a slightly different voice. "Hello?" you cautiously asked, and the person responded, "Oh, Goshiki went to grab more food, and left his phone here. We're sitting at the very back." "Oh... uhm, okay," you dully responded, extremely confused with what just happened. On the other end, Semi places the phone down, and looks up as Goshiki comes back, "[L/N] called." "Ah! She did!? Did you tell her where we are?" Goshiki asked as he frantically pulled up your name on his messenger. He sees Semi nod and he lets out a breath of relief. "Oh thank god, I was worried that-" "Tsutomu," your voice cuts him off, and the entire volleyball team is staring at the way the jacket hung off you loosely, and you glanced around, "Do you know whose-" "That's mine," Shirabu muttered from behind you. He had also went to grab more food and you turned around, only to be face-to-face face to chest with the setter. You took a step back, and you glanced at him and your eyes widened, "Ah, that's my jacket!" "Yes, I figured as much," he responded as he placed his food down. He shrugged the jacket off and handed it over, "Here." You nod, gently taking his off and passing it to him in exchange for yours and you muttered your thanks. You slipped on your jacket and you mumble as you glance at the sleeve, "It's a bit longer now." Shirabu flushed pink and looked away, and you teased, "I wonder why." "Sh-shut up!" Your laughter shocked most of the team and you waved a lazy good-bye, "I'll see you guys around. Good luck on your future matches." "You should come watch us [F/N]-chan!" Tendou smiled lazily and you turned back, flashing them a quick smile, "Maybe I will." Bonus: "What's wrong [F/N]? You've been pulling at your jacket sleeves for a while now," your dorm mate asked as she sat down to eat with you. She noticed your cheeks were slightly pink and she teased, "Oh? Did something happen with Tsutomu-san?" Almost immediately, the pink tinge was gone and you blanched, "Oh my god. No. Tsutomu is like my brother, what in the world?" "Then?" she asked and pointed her spoon at you, "You've been acting kind of weird since you got your jacket back. What's wrong?" "No it just..." you hesitate and shook your head, "It's nothing." Your friend frowns and sighs, "Okay, whatever. I'll let you off this time." You gratefully smiled at her, but every time you brought your hand back up you couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. God damn it, I kind of like the sleeves longer now.

"Shirabu," Ushijima called their setter's name with hints of concern laced in it. The copper haired setter looked at him in surprise and the captain asked, "Are you feeling okay?" "Yes, why?" "Your face is all red!" Tendou teased and continued, "Is it because of-" "It's not!" Shirabu furiously denied it. But he couldn't help but admit, that his jacket did smell slightly nicer for the rest of that evening.