#jesper finding the guy that had a hand in that: (FISTS UP)

[crowshoots]

@taitropa said — " if you're not ready to talk about it, let's not talk about it. "

ㅤㅤeven after so much time away from everyone else, inej knows exactly what she needs to say to him.

ㅤㅤreally, he's not surprised that she finds him. jesper's no rooftop climber, but he does go up - further up into the van eck mansion, climbing into the attic and finding the first window that gives him access to a little ledge that might've been a balcony at some point. jesper has no idea. the mercher houses are nothing like the cabin back home, but they still find themselves clambering to some place in the building like it can offer them comfort instead of a gambling table.

ㅤㅤhe's trying. fuck, at least he's trying. inej is giving him an out, but jesper rubs at his eyes and feels the hollow breath rattle in his chest, bracing his fists on the metal edge that ropes around in front of him. he breathes out, clenching his fists open and close. the split knuckles burn.

ㅤㅤ" you already know what happened, 'm sure, " they mumble, dropping their gaze to their feet. " punching some mercher's relative is the type of news that runs through a crowd like fire. " they scratch at their nose, rub the back of their neck, fidget back and forth with the ring on their index. "it's just - fuck, inej, he was - he had a hand in digging up things near my home. and there was this well, and - "

ㅤㅤshe cuts herself off, glancing up towards inej. inej's face is not judgmental, but open, and something about it puts a balm over her heart. " if it were you and he dug up a place near your home, would you have - ? "

[ladylooch]

“When opponents bring up Emma, the gloves are dropped.”

Oh should we explore this? I feel like we are having so much fun with timo and Emma rn

Obvi this is where lio gets it from

Do I want to explore this? OBVIOUSLY! Also, lil pause to say thank you for loving these two. I love my OCs so much and it fills my writer cup up to do these blurbs 🥰

Anyone who trash talks Emma gets both Timo AND Nico in their face. So they probably just shouldn’t. But hockey boys aren’t always smart…

My eyes water a bit as I yawn, sitting in the family suite at the Prudential Center. Liv is sleeping in her carrier on me after her latest feeding. Lio is munching on a chicken finger, eyes following his dad around the ice. Timo and Nico are both out on the power play. Lexi is home sick with Lucie, so it’s a relatively quiet game tonight including on the ice where the score remains 0-0.

The puck moves along the perimeter quickly until it gets to Nico. He passes it back to Dougie, then to Jesper, then back to Nico. My brother saucers the pass across the slot to my husband, who one-times it into the back of the net.

“Hey there we go!” I cheer, watching the replay on the Jumbotron. “Daddy!” I poke Lio’s side. 

“I know I saw it.” He beams up. “Can I have ice cream now that dad scored?”

“I’m not sure what one has to do with the other?” I chuckle, but wave him up to the food to grab a bin of dippin’ dots. “Mom tax.” I open my mouth, letting him feed me a little bite.

Timo is skating back onto the ice after his goal when a Blackhawks players starts jawing at him. Timo looks over his shoulder at the guy, smirking as he comes to line up next to him. Timo suddenly stands tall, cross checking his opponent in the chest. Nico is getting ready to take the face off circle then abruptly stands up too, coming over to the other winger across from my husband. Nico shoves at him too. More talking resumes. The ref tries to get between them, but it’s too late. Timo and Nico both go after the same guy. Gloves are flying. Sticks are dropped. One guy tries to get in to pull Timo off. He shoves that guy in the face and keeps going after the original player.

“Oh boy.” I mutter, rubbing at my forehead. The arena stands. I do as well because I am so anxious watching them both fight. I put my mouth on Liv’s head, smoothing my hand over the back of her hair as well.

“Dad is mad.” Lio murmurs, eyes wide and excited. “Get him.” He pounds his little fist into his palm.

“Ah… no.”

“Why?” Lio murmurs. I can’t really lecture him on violence when both his dad and uncle are punching people.

“Because it’s not.. nice.”

After we get home and put the kids to bed, I finally ask Timo what that was all about. We are in the closet changing into our bed time apparel. 

“This motherfucker.” He starts off, stopping from changing out of his suit. His eyes are all squinty as he retells the story. “He was talking about you. Nico and I felt he needed to never do that again. So we took care of it.”

“I can’t believe you both jumped him at the same time.” I shake my head, pulling my flannel pajama pants up my legs. 

“I mean, the opportunity was presented, so why not?”

“Well, your son was mimicking your punches.”

“Our son saw me beat a guy's ass defending you today. I’m okay with that.” He kisses me as he walks out of the closet in only his boxer briefs. “Why you putting pants on? I’m just gonna take them off.” I ignore that, going back to the real issue.

“When he is older and beats a kid up on the playground, I expect you to be on my side with that.”

“Sure, baby.” He says. “Now come here.” 

I walk to the bed, crawling onto his lap. He leans back into the pillows, hands on my hips as I look him over.

“He got you.” I murmur, seeing red under his left eye along with other signs of bruising.

“One. Compared to my fifteen.”

“At least you landed a punch. I couldn’t quite figure out what Nico was doing.”

“Me either. I had to tell him to find someone else.” I lean my head back, laughing at the ceiling, remember how Nico went off to grab the closest Blackhawk.  Timo leans forward, kissing along the swells of my breasts that are off limits again. I sigh with pleasure when his nose outlines my nipple through my shirt 

“Hey.” I tug his hair softly. He knows why.

“So bossy tonight.”

“You like me that way.” He nods in agreement. 

“So what did this guy say?” I ask. Timo sighs like he wants to be done talking about it.

“He said your pussy probably dries up like the desert when you see me.” I burst out laughing. Tears are pooling in my eyes. Timo flips me to my back and crawls over me. His marked up hands pin my wrists on either side of my head as I shake with laughter.

“You know that is not true.” I try to take my hand away to wipe at the tears. He holds me in place.

“I do know that.” He glides a hand into my pants to prove his point. “But that fuck stick shouldn’t be talking about your pussy. And Nico agreed with me so we went. Together. Defending your honor.” I try to get my laughing under control, but then I think about it and start all over again. “You could be a little more grateful.” He mumbles against my mouth, trying to shut me up.

“I sure could.” I pick up his left hand in mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, then swing my full momentum to rotate on top again. Timo is stunned below me. “But I can take care of myself. I’ll fight him next time. Defend your honor.” Timo collects my shirt, bringing it up my body and over my head.

“Mhm, okay baby. Whatever you say.” 

[knivesncrows]

Kitten

Pairing: Kaz Brekker × durast!reader

Words: 921

Genre: fluff, humor

Summary: Jesper cannot stop laughing after returning with Kaz and you and Wylan are going to find out why.

The noises of gamblers and drunks echoed throughout the club, making you shift uneasily on your perch on the barstool, drink in hand. It seemed as if each table wanted to one up the other in terms of who could kick up the most racket and the men hadn't stopped shouting and banging their fists on the table. Occasionally, a few of them had to be thrown out but that was nothing unusual.

Wylan slid in the seat beside you, sighing and calling the barkeep for a drink.

"Rough day?" You asked, turning to him, trying to block out the loud noises behind you.

"You can't even imagine. Kaz had me down in the lab since yesterday making more bombs and I'm just about ready to die."

You laughed, Wylan's miserable expression only heightening your amusement.

"At least it's quiet, I'm just about ready to punch that guy over there. He hasn't stopped bragging about his bets ever since he came in." You sighed exasperated and Wylan's lips quirked up in a tired smile.

Before he could say anything, Jesper's loud voice boomed through the club, calling for his boyfriend. Wylan looked at you as if to ask for help but you only smiled slyly, raising your glass.

"I wish you luck."

As it so happened, you also needed that luck because Jesper grabbed you both by the arms, dragging you towards the back entrance of the club, all the while shoulders shaking in an attempt to control his laughter. You and Wylan shared an incredulous look, worrying about Jesper's sanity before he stopped in a hallway.

You were about to question him whether he wanted to see a healer, when you came face to face with Kaz's scowling face. Well, he was always scowling but today, it was particularly menacing.

They had both gone to acquire some materials for the next job and had only returned now. But you still couldn't decipher why Jesper brought the two of you here looking like he won a million kruge.

"Is everything okay?" You asked Kaz, knowing Jesper was going to be no use.

Jesper laughed harder and Kaz's gaze turned murderous, but the sharpshooter didn't seem to notice. Wylan inched closer to you and away from his boyfriend.

"Show them, Kaz," Jesper managed between laughs and Kaz's fingers flexed against the crow head of his cane. You were beginning to become curious now and turned to him expectantly.

You interpreted his clenched jaw as an attempt to calm down, before his shoulders sagged and he let out a breath.

"Come here," he said and you raised an eyebrow, fully prepared to twist his words and tease him but the warning glint in his eyes told you to keep your mouth shut for the time being.

When you were close enough, he turned a little sideways so you could see what had Jesper so amused and your jaw dropped at the scene before you.

Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, had a kitten stuck on the back of his coat.

You blinked before turning to Jesper and Wylan and again to Kaz.

"Are you seeing this too?" You asked and Kaz's patience finally seemed to snap as he walked away from your group, heading to his office.

A grin slowly spread across your lips as you followed him, Wylan's exasperated voice asking Jesper to shut up in the background.

"Kaz! Wait up!"

He did not wait and slammed the door to his office closed but you weren't about to be deterred by something as simple as that. Opening it again, you were met with the amusing sight of Kaz trying to shake away the kitten but the little animal had it's claws deep in his jacket.

Laughing a little, you stepped forward, raising your hands to let him know what you were planning.

He looked at you for a moment before staying still as you moved towards him. He tensed when your hands brushed his jacket but you were gentle with your ministrations, so that he didn't feel a thing. When he felt you step back, only then did he release the breath that had been caught in his throat.

You were cradling the creature who had begun protesting when you were trying to remove it by meowing continuously. It was now quiet and clung to you like it had been with Kaz earlier.

You were looking at the little kitten with an intense focus, brushing your hand atop his matted fur and Kaz knew. He knew you too well by now to guess what you were thinking and he already had an answer prepared.

"No."

Your head snapped to his, eyes wide, lips in a pout and Kaz's heart stuttered seeing you look at him like that.

"I haven't even said anything!"

"Still no."

"Kaz please. I'll-" you grimaced a little before steeling yourself, "I'll stop scaring people with the nails."

Kaz raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. That was your favorite pastime, scaring the Dregs and your way of showing your anger. To give it up must mean you were serious about keeping the filthy thing.

You were waiting for his decision but Kaz also knew that you were going to keep it anyway. Better that he agreed and you stopped ruining his walls than you keeping it a secret.

"Fine. Don't let it out of your room."

It had nothing to do with your pleading expression, he told himself.

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[bookishdream]

Hi darling!

Can I please request a sorta cute thing with Matthias?

Ps. I adore your writing! Have a lovely day. <3

A/N. Hii, thank you very much for those kind words! Hope you like it, enjoy xx.

TW: maybe some curses

Matthias Helvar x fem!reader

Ketterdam's street were never grisha-friendly. The danger could occur at every turn, thus you had to be as careful as possible, jumping all the time and looking behind your shoulder. Your powers were new, you found about them while escaping from Ravkan's soldiers. And because of your disliking toward second army, your mother country had become your greatest enemy.

The Kerch’s biggest city was dark, that was your first thought. The sun was shining, but it didn’t make the town brighter, the exact opposite – clouds that sun was behind were, successfully blocked its shine. Your hair was messy, caused by days of laying down in the ship’s storage, your body was bruised and ached you at every step you made.

You cursed under your breath, when you stumbled. Your ability to walk started to disappear, but you pushed it harder, you were determined to find some quiet and dry place to sleep. If it was even possible to find here place like that.

“Hi,” someone said, her voice sweet as sugar, she even looked like sugar. “I think you got little lost.”

“Nah, I’m good. Who are you?” you asked, making a small step back, only to meet with a torso of someone. You eyed them and you saw a black skinned boy, with black hair and a smirk on his lips. “Shit.”

“We can help you,” The brunette girl said, once again trying to gain your trust. “you’re like us.”

You muffled a laugh. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble or your help, I told you I was fine and you should’ve left it after that.”

“Oh, darling,” the boy said, his voice flirtatious. “We don’t do what we should.”

The brown-haired girl clenched her fist, and you felt a little bit sleepy, even though you tried to fight the urge to fall onto the floor.

  You woke up, your back was pressed to the cold walls of some weird looking place, your hands tied behind your body. You shivered.

“You are a fighter, aren’t you?” the boy who helped the girl capture you, voiced from the corner of the building. “What are you?”

“I– “you couldn’t say another word, because three other boys who you had never seen came, with this sugar-looking girl and a slim, looking like a shadow girl.

“She woke up, great.” The guy in the hat, and long coat said, his voice raspy, making you shiver. “We need your help with our next work.”

“What?” fair-haired boy, asked confused. “We had two grishas with us, why we need another one?”

“Matthias, I think you should shut up, or I, personally, am going to kick you back to Fjerda.”

“Demjin.”

“You shouldn’t have kidnapped her.” Girl with black, braided hair, told him, while turning her knives between her fingers. “You should’ve asked like a civilized person would do.”

“I’m not a civilized person, Inej.”

“Can someone tell me what is happening, and why are you talking like I’m not fucking here?” you tried to free your hands from ties, but rope only got deeper into your wrists. “If you’re from the second army, I will not help you.”

“You’re from Ravka?” the fair-skinned girl started making her way toward you. “Why did you escape?”

“I did not escape, I just went temporarily missing.” Your cheeks heated, you could feel the blood seeking out of your wrists.

“Do you know what would have happened if Fjerdan’s army had found you?” Inej asked, eyeing you up and down. “They hunt grishas.”

Matthias coughed, everyone looked at him, under their eyes he only lifted his one arm and placed his eyes on you.

“Everyone hunts grishas, Ravka, Fjerda and Kerch. You probably are not better than them.”

“She’s right,” Matthias agreed with you. “You aren’t.”

“Matthias, you’re scaring her. Jesper can you untie her?” the guy in the hat ordered.

“What if she punches me?” he commented, but still undo the knots. “She has a spirit.”

You sighed, not having enough strength to even think about kicking him in the guts, but maybe later.

“You said you wanted my help.” You directed your words at the hut guy. “Why do you need that?”

“I knew you’d listen” the boy said, his hands were coated in some expensive-looking gloves, one of them were laying lazily on a cane with a crow head at the top of it. “I’m Kaz, and the girl beside you is Nina, the one who untied you is Jesper, the young looking one is Wylan and the buzzkill is Matthias.”

You eyed the last one and you couldn’t say he wasn’t handsome, his face was all sharp edges, short blond hair was slightly falling onto his eyes. You were sure that under the clothes he was muscled. You quickly looked at the others and you noticed the sugar-looking girl – Nina, was looking at you like you were a pray.

“What are you?” Inej asked, her eyes never leaving your figure. “We have a Durast and a Heartrender.”

You let out a heavy breath, cold needles of ice were poking your cheeks. “I’m a Squaller.”

“And you didn’t want to help your country?!” Nina exclaimed, appalled.

“I owe this country nothing.” You answered, frowning. “They didn’t do anything to help me and my family, I will not let them take me against my own will.”

“She’s a fierce one.” Jesper said, walking toward you, and picking one strand of your hair, turning it slightly between his fingers. “And a pretty one.”

“Let go of me.” You sighed, getting your hair out of his fingers. “No one said I’d help you.”

“You will if you don’t want to go back to Ravka.” Kaz said, clicking his walking stick on the floor of the tomb. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Not like I’d be able to help, I found out about my power,” you trailed. “Like a few days ago.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m sure Nina will be more than happy to help one of hers.” Kaz made a step and walked out of the tomb with Inej and Jesper, Wylan a step behind them.  

Nina nodded her head like she was truly happy about that fact. Your hands were still aching, red stains of blood around your wrist bone. You nodded your own head even though Kaz had already left. Nina looked at you one last time and walked out herself, leaving you with Matthias.

“You’re braver than you think you are.” The boy said, taking your left hand into his and using his other one to wipe it clean with a piece of material he took out of his pocket. He looked into your eyes and took your right hand. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Proud because I ran away from my duty?” your face went blank, you hadn’t regretted your decision. “I should be fighting with them, and here I am, helping bunch of criminals.”

He laughed slightly, patting your hands gently with his fingers. “You’re brave, because you looked Kaz straight into his dead eyes and didn’t flinch. That’s an achievement.”

“He doesn’t look so scary.”

“He just acts like that, I bet he’s like a kitten under this coat.” Matthias said, helping you walk out of the tomb, “kitten who scratches all the time.”

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 7

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader - its almost here you guys, getting so close

Summary: after a confrontation with the Darkling a discussion needs to happen

Note: so I went ahead and put in the first of four songs that inspired this fic.  ‘Summertime’ by My Chemical Romance, give it a listen if you haven’t it is a masterpiece

Tags: @mcntsee​

              Kaz had never seen the Darkling before and he was surprised now that the man who had created the fold, lived for hundreds of years, barely looked a day over 25.  He glanced over at Jesper and Y/N, watching her get down from the horse and start walking towards the Darkling.  He panicked for a moment, getting off his own horse and handing the reins to Jesper. He pulled out his cane, not sure what he could do with it against a man who was considered the most powerful Grisha in existence, but he would go down fighting to protect Y/N.

              “What were you thinking Y/N?  Running off with these two?” Aleksander asked, motioning a dismissive hand to the Dregs.  Kaz glared. He looked to Y/N and saw her looking at him.  When their eyes met she shook her head and he knew what she meant.  Now that she had spilled her secrets to him he could see more in her eyes.  She wasn’t hiding herself from him anymore and right now she was clearly telling him to not start a fight, that she didn’t want to have to take on the Darkling now.

              “Aleksander, I couldn’t stay anymore in your shadow. Not when we both know that with the parem I would be more powerful than you.  I want your throne,” she said, lying through her teeth.  Kaz could see the obvious falsehood there, but apparently the Darkling didn’t know her as much as he thought.

              “Is that why you stole it? ��The only useable vial of parem we had?” he asked.  Kaz froze.  So she hadn’t told him everything.  He looked over at her and watched her as she stared at Aleksander.

              “I couldn’t let you have it, not why I needed it,” she said.  “Leave now or I will use it.  I’ve already taken it.”  She was lying, Kaz had seen first hand when parem did to Grisha, there was no one she had taken it before they left.  He just hoped the Darkling believed her lie.  Aleksander scowled.

              “So this is it, another betrayal by a trusted friend? Well, you may have taken the parem but your friends haven’t,” he said, gearing up to perform the cut against Kaz.  

              “No!” Y/N screamed, reaching out with both hands and closing her fists.  Aleksander stopped, falling to his knees and groaning in pain.

              “What…is this…how…” he stammered out as she constricted his airwaves and his heart.  Kaz looked at her, seeing the desperation in her eyes, but he also saw the vengeance beneath it.  She wanted to kill the Darkling, make him suffer for everything he’d taken from her and for a minute Kaz was going to let her do it.  Then he remembered the look on her face when she talked about how many died at her hand, how much the pain wrecked her.  Aleksander had once been her friend, could she really handle killing another friend and not break entirely.  Kaz didn’t want to find out.

              “ Y/N!” he yelled, running over to her.  “Stop, send him away, as far as your winds can take him, but don’t kill him.  You’ll lose yourself more if you do.”  What was he saying?  Kaz Brekker didn’t care who got hurt.  Saints or whoever, damn this woman for what she was doing to him.  

              Once the Darkling was unconscious Y/N finally stopped. Kaz was right, she couldn’t kill more people she once cared about, it would take another piece of her soul and she didn’t know how much was left at this point.  She mustered up all the Squallor ability she could and sent Aleksander away, making sure that the wind would set him down softly.  When he was gone she turned to the other two.  Kaz looked relieved and Jesper was shocked.

              “How can you do you more than one thing?” he asked. “Did the parem really do that to you?”

              “I lied about the parem, I didn’t drink it.  I took the vial, and I smashed it right after we left the prison.  No one is taking the parem as long as we keep Kuwei away from the Second Army.  I’ve always been able to do multiple Grisha skills, but my Inferni skills were the strongest so I chose to train in that and hide the rest,” she explained.  Jesper nodded and smiled.  

              “Well, looks like we have a valuable weapon in our midst,” he said.   Y/N rolled her eyes, hating that she was once again being relegated to a tool for these guys.

              “No,” Kaz said softly.  “She’s not a weapon, she’s our friend and we need to get her to the resistance and help them.”   Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at him.  She was sure once he knew that she had kept one last secret from him he would be furious, instead he was planning to help them.  She knew it could have been a lie, something to get them moving again, get her out of their hair quicker, but it didn’t seem like it.  

              “Kaz can I talk to you alone for a minute?” she asked, needing to sort out some things with him before she kept going.  He looked aggravated at the delay but nodded. Jesper took his cue and walked the horses to a nearby stream to drink.  “Look we have to at least address some part of this, whatever this is.”  She motioned between them and he scowled.  She knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to make him.  They at least needed to establish some form of trust between them, something solid that they could stand and fight together one.  In Ketterdam Kaz and his group fought together as Dregs, but Y/N wasn’t one of them, she needed to establish something else with Kaz to make this work.

              “What do you want me to say?  I said you were our friend,” he snapped, not looking her in the eye.   Y/N sighed, looking at the ground.

              “Alright we are friends.  But you know there’s more to it, I know you feel it,” she said.

                Kaz hated all of this right now.  This whole conversation was making him want to leave her here and just travel on without her.  He would get his crew and get the hell out of Ravka, let her face the Darkling on her own.  Dammit he knew he couldn’t do that.  This woman made him soft for her and he wanted to rage against it, but what use was it?

              “Why in the hell would you want anything more with a crippled bastard anyway?” he asked, feeling his self-loathing seeping from his pores.  He could keep up his façade in front of anyone, pretend to be more than he was, criminal mastermind, leader of the Dregs, the Bastard of the Barrel, but for some reason she broke down that defense and here he was that sad boy that lost his brother and was still searching for a way to be whole again. He saw her reach a hand out before stopping and clenching her fist.

              “Kaz Brekker, you are single handedly the most amazing man I have ever met.  Capable of the most intense torture yet still willing to dance with me, you don’t let anything stop you from getting what you want.  You sir, are a criminal king in a blood soaked crown and personally I have never wanted to be anything more than a queen standing next to you,” she said. Kaz looked at her seeing that her face was flushed red, embarrassed to have gotten so honest with him.  He quirked his mouth into a smirk and she groaned. “Dammit, why can I never just keep my mouth shut around you.”  

              “O please don’t, I love to hear you heaping praise on me.  I like that bit about the crown,” he said, smirking more.  She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest.  “I’m not sure I’m ready for a queen, not in the way you would want me to be…”

              “Kaz I want you exactly the way you are.  Whoever you want to be I will want you,” she said. He could hear that she meant it. He didn’t have to fix himself or be more than he was with her.  “You could never touch me again and I will be fine, you never have to smile if you don’t want.  I’ve felt your hand and seen your smile and I will keep that memory fresh in my mind forever.”  

              “I had my gloves on when I touched you,” he said softly.  She smiled at him.

              “I’m alright with that.  I’m alright with you.”

              “I don’t know if I’m ready for a queen still, but as soon as I am you’re the first person I’m going to find,” he said.  He meant it, his heart was making a room for her to live there and once it was ready he would get a bloody crown to match his and give it to her.  He lifted up his gloved hand and put it against her lips.  “I promise.”  He felt her lips kiss his gloved finger and pulled away.  He took a deep breath, surprised that nothing had happened, no images of death or feelings of disgust.  She kissed his finger and he had just walked away to get Jesper and the horses.  

                As evening fell they decided to make camp near a stream. The group filled their canteens and built a small fire, eating some rations and donning their coats as the weather was starting to get colder as they moved further north.   Y/N built a small item out of her vest pocket and focused. Soon her guitar was in her lap and she was strumming it.

              “How did you do that?” Jesper asked as he took a seat next to her.  Kaz sat down on the other side of her, giving Jesper a look that said not to get too close. Y/N almost laughed.  He had been jealous the whole ride here, clearly wanting to hit Jesper with his cane again.  She knew it must irk him that others could get so close to her and he couldn’t.  She hoped the smile she gave him, one he almost returned, made him feel better.  

              “I just focus on the material and will to be smaller or bigger, I’m not sure how it works honestly,” she said, strumming a little.

              “You going to play us something?” Jesper asked. Y/N thought for a minute, trying to pull a song out of her head that they might know, but she couldn’t think of one. Then she got an idea.

              “I wrote a song a little while back, something I used to sing with Alina when I would visit her followers to give them messages,” she said.  I think it applies now, to all of us.”  She started the cords, stumbling at first as she tried to remember the exact notes she played before.  Once it came back she found a good rhythm.

“When the lights go out, will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down in crowded rooms And highways I call home?”

           She could see Kaz listening intently, leaning forward to see her fingers move and hear her voice more.  She wasn’t a master singer she knew but no one had ever complained about her voice and seeing the look on his face she knew he liked it. Jesper bopped his head to the music she made and she smiled at him before looking back at Kaz as she sang.

“If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes How long until we find our way In the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me Anytime you want”

           She finished the song and found that Jesper had laid down during the singing and was fast asleep.  She chuckled and shrunk her guitar, putting it back in her pocket. She moved to put out the fire when Kaz waved his hand at her.

           “Not yet,” he said softly, looking at her. She nodded and moved to cover up Jesper before laying down herself, watching Kaz in the firelight.  His features were more pronounced like this, his edges sharp, eyes deep with depths she had just barely began to swim in.  She knew she shouldn’t take his words to heart, that she didn’t fully know that he could be believed.  He was an excellent liar, had duped almost everyone he had ever met, but she wanted to believe him so she did.  She would live this lie with him for as long as he let her.  Let him destroy her, she would die with a smile on her face.  

           “I love you Kaz Brekker” she whispered softly, not caring if he heard her.  He didn’t move so she assumed he hadn’t and she rolled over to fall asleep.

           Kaz watched the fire and heard ever word she whispered to him.  He felt the last piece of resistance waver and flee from his heart.  He heard her breathing steady beside him and knew she was asleep.  He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, testing again to see if the revulsion arose. When it didn’t, he actually smiled.

           “I love you too Y/N.”

[retvenkos]

let me just write an essay real quick....

@musicallisto i said i would do if for you, clara, and i am a woman of my word. here is my headcanon set for how/why you and matthias are a good™ match... (this probably won’t be very coherent, but you love me anyway)

First, let me cover some basic ideas about your dynamic, because I have thoughts...

Much like (our queen) Nina, you would challenge Matthias. You’re not a damsel in distress nor are you some soft spoken lamb. You are the sun - larger than life and outgoing, warm and impulsive, and quite emotional. All of this challenges the stiff regulations and detached behavior Matthias has lived with for so long - both in Fjerda and in Hellgate. You encourage his playful, soft side while also being very perceptive - enough to know when it’s not the time.

You both also carry such pride for who you are, and I think it’s very important for both of you that the other respect that but also challenge what exactly that means.

Furthermore, you have a romanticism to you that I think would actually really compliment Matthias? Like, we don’t acknowledge enough the fact that Matthias actually has romantic notions and yeah, they’re traditional, but they’re very sweet, and I think you would find them endearing. That’s good for him. I also think that if it’s a big deal to Matthias, then of course you will go on walks with him - of course you will let him bring you flowers and making it a “proper” date. I think you love romance, and that’s just neat.

I also want to say that whenever i read your writing, I feel so much reverence for whatever material you are writing about, and I think that would wonderfully compliment Matthias. His religion is important to him and the life he once lived weighs heavily on his heart. You would never make light of either of them, and I think that is very important for Matthias - especially because he still struggles. I’m also a sucker for the hardened one finding someone that challenges him, but holds him in their arms so carefully, and those are the precise vibes I get from the two of you.

You would joke with Matthias. You would make him feel like he belonged.

Also! I have this idea that Matthias is a really good storyteller - he just doesn’t know it. No one has ever really... asked him to tell them a story, but you would (maybe while dozing by a fire). And when he starts telling you stories of Fjerda, or stories of his life, at first it’s a little awkward or clunky, but you just listen and the longer he speaks, the more natural it becomes, and Matthias is actually very eloquent and emotional, and can you imagine listening to him talk - hearing the deep timbre of his voice as he softly puzzles over who he was, and pities those he once knew? An experience™, I tell you. He has the “I see everything, and I watch it corrupt us slowly” vibes. The oral storyteller vibes.  And I promise I’m going somewhere with this! It would fit perfectly with your storytelling abilities. I get the feeling that your more apt on paper, because it causes your thoughts to slow down, and so you’ll write him stories or letters and sneak them into his pockets for him to read. And! If anyone were to ever write his stories down, it would be you.

I also think that Matthias is the structure to your free will. You have such aspirations and so many dreams, and Matthias would be the steady hand that would remind you to see your dreams to fruition. 

Finally, I want to say that Matthias is the type to take responsibility. If anything were to ever happen - like the two of you argue or have a big disagreement - Matthias would not place all of the blame on you. I feel like this would be really good for you since you don’t like defeat, and you probably internalize a lot of criticism (girl, me too). Don’t get me wrong - Matthias is strong willed, too, but he knows when he’s done wrong, and as long as he doesn’t have to apologize to Kaz Brekker, he’ll admit it and sincerely ask for forgiveness. What a man.

Also! Final thing, I swear, then I’ll get into some details - the two of you are both hands-on in your relationships! You’re both a little doting when it comes to the other person - you just care *clenches fist* so much and want to make sure that this life is all that both of you dreamed of, and more, and I just think that’s neat. It makes me very happy.

Okay, but for how you fit into this world, you are definitely apart of the Dregs.

If you want to be Grisha, then I have decided you would do best a squaller. You would definitely make friends with Nina when she first comes to Ketterdam, if this is the route you want to go (Grisha’s gotta stick together, y’know?) and you first learn about Matthias by prying at her past. Lovingly. You’re definitely apart of the Dregs, and idk what your speciality would be, but you’d be iconic. Maybe you would be really good at throwing knives? Or maybe you’d be a spy! Both are viable options for you.

If you don’t want to be a Grisha, then you are introduced to the crows by the one and only Jesper Fahey. Clearly you are going to university with a special area of study in poisons, and you meet Jesper in like... one (1) class on the first two of three days. The two of you can bond over joking about how to get out of doing the homework. Jesper was like... we could put a bullet in him, and instead of being scandalized, you make some wry comment about how arsenic would be the best poisoning tactic since it doesn’t have a smell or taste. He’d never see it coming. At some point, Jesper would come to you wanting to know more about poisons (Kaz made him) and idk why, but I think it’s very important that I detail this moment:

Jesper sidles up to you in class after MONTHS of being gone and you’re like.... bro, where did you go? and why are you wearing those clothes?

But Jesper is just trying to get a feel for if you actually know your way around poisons or not (I mean, everything you’ve said has been true, but how much do you know?). He’s being really cryptic and awkward, though, and I love the idea that at some point, you think that Jesper thinks you are a drug dealer and you’re like ??? I do chemistry, but not that kind. And he’s like.... NO. POISONS.

And, ofc, that’s your area of special study. So of course you know.

And Jesper says, “Sweet. You could help me choose the right ones, then? The right amount?”

And you go: “Haha... you’re not trying to kill anyone, are you?”

And Jesper winks and says, “Not yet.”

And you’re mind is going.... I really shouldn’t negotiate with possible hit men, right?

But have you seen student loans? Ketterdam would be the last place to forgive student debt. Plus, this is one of the greatest (read: most expensive) universities of all time! And Jesper is nice...

(ooh! Maybe I flip the script and you guys are actually childhood friends? That would make a little more sense. Pick your poison.)

Anyway, somehow you end up helping him, and it sticks. Jesper comes and goes randomly to pick up poisons or get advice on them, He pays you well. He makes you laughs. You get to tease him about actually going to class.

Oh! This is important:

One time, Jesper kindly asked you to bring him something to the Crow Club, You definitely think this side of town is sketchy as hell, but Jesper is a friend and he’s offering more money (I feel like you would take the calculated risk. I’d go with you. Queens travel in packs).  Your plan is in and out.

You meet up with Jesper and you go.... oop— that is definitely a gunshot wound, and that is definitely an unconscious man in the corner.  What the hell is going on?

And Jesper is like.... “haha.... yeah, we just had a shootout. I nearly died. Pretty amazing, am I right?”

“You’re a criminal?”

“You mean you didn’t conjecture that?”

Okay... maybe you did. That’s on you, huh?

(Lol, idk why, but that chaos was just very important for me to include)

BUT OHYMYGOD, MATTIAS. Idk how you guys would meet - maybe after they sneak him out of Hellgate? You could be a kind of nurse for the Dregs, if you wanted to. Actually, the idea of a nurse or a healer who knows her way around poisons is actually a concept. My mind.

[flovey-dovey]

Part 2 of my thoughts on Klaus

Spoilers! Did I mention that already?

When they watch Margu playing in the light of dawn, Jesper puts his hand on Klaus’ arm and keeps it there rather than excitedly pat it once or twice to get his attention like a simple platonic friend might. And while Jesper watches her, Klaus watches Jesper with a very warm, affectionate look that Jesper doesn’t try to shirk or shrug awkwardly off.

When Klaus puts his hand on his back, Jesper just smiles wider, and when they return to Klaus’ property the look on the woodsman’s face as he listened to Jesper talk like a doting parent and his solid “I do” in reply to what he was saying says even more.

Heck- part of Klaus’ tragic past was that he and his wife never got to have children no matter how much they wanted and waited, and here comes Jesper with every child in Smeerenburg and beyond at his heels. Klaus even tells him this past, openly, freely and even with a chuckle or two, and right after saying how his life had fallen into aimless misery turns to say “and then you came along.”. Klaus even has Jesper blindfolded before showing him the sleigh with both their names carved into it at what was most likely his request.

Very couple-like and very sweet in my opinion. After the “liar revealed” scene, Klaus sees his name as he climbs in and hesitates, clearly thinking of him.

(also, notice in this shot how Jesper is centered with Klaus- not Alva)

And let’s not forget the mountainside scene after the big chase or the look on Klaus’ face when Jesper echoes his wife’s words with full conviction: “A true selfless act always sparks another”.

Now we’re nearing the end of the movie, so let’s talk about Jesper’s father some more. In the last quarter of the movie, his father comes back and he and Jesper go to the boat that would take them back home. Before they cast off, though, it’s said not long later that Jesper told his father “everything” and how he thought he’d be mad at him. Why? If it was work related, why would Jesper be afraid his father would get upset by him wanting to stay and do the job he gave him? That he wanted him to have? Why would he be afraid his father would get mad at him for finding love in Alva, if that truly was the case? Could it be that part of “everything” was how Jesper did find love, but that it was in someone who didn’t fit into society’s unrelentingly heteronormative mold (gonna be using that word a bit but I’m tired so bear with me), and as a result meant he wouldn’t fit either? Which brings me to a minor point of my opinion: did Jesper ever fit? It could’ve been another reason why his father was trying so hard to impose socially acceptable opportunities on him, or why Jesper had rebelled against them so stubbornly. Wishful thinking, I suppose.

(also, notice the look on Jesper’s face here when confronted by his father’s silent urging for him to come out with whatever he knew he had on his mind)

Before I wrap this up, here are a few other bits and pieces I wanted to mention:

* When Jesper talks at Margu after realizing their toy inventory was running low, he says “they” were running out of toys rather than “he” (Klaus) was running out of toys, which his arrogant self in the first half-ish part of the movie would’ve surely said.

* During one of the times Jesper talks at Margu and asked what he was supposed to do if he failed, he mentions Klaus and doesn’t even bring up Alva.

* Jesper, while talking to Alva about the school’s turnaround and her own change in outlook, looks and sounds more confused/baffled than teasing, flirty or pleased.

* The strongest moment Jesper and Alva share, emotionally, is never more than the one they share while helping Margu write her letter to Klaus. To my memory, he and Klaus share two very prominent ones, with a possible third or fourth (or fifth or sixth) on top of that.

* Alva gives Klaus a peck on the cheek instead of Jesper, who she presumably now has romantic feelings for. Why don’t they kiss before the ending “where are they now” bit? At all?

* Alva, when watching the townies ice skating with Jesper, doesn’t move to pull him out onto the ice for some potentially romantic happenings if she had turned to see the troubled look on his face, laughing and smiling to try and cheer him up or going out on the town to partake in the festivities. This could’ve shown us more of Alva’s character and it would’ve been better than just NARRATING IT AT THE ENDING. And, yes, I know movies have deadlines, but it didn’t have to be more than ten seconds long and could’ve given a look into the town’s culture as it started to reform, and afterwards Jesper could’ve still gone back to the post office to build Margu’s little sleigh, possibly with some encouragement from Alva. Nothing had to change, but it wouldn’t have hurt to at least show their romance forming since a few seconds can go a long way.

* During the ending chase, Klaus and Jesper are literally having a lover’s quarrel.

* Klaus acting like an embarrassed husband when he steps up all covered in red from head to toe and Jesper joking with him about it, earning another hearty laugh from Klaus with ease, and Klaus’ apparent concern when Jesper urges his father outside to talk privately.

* The entirety of the reindeer scene and as they ride off, laughing, when their eyes meet and they realize they were having fun in each other’s company- very naturally, at that.

* Klaus lamenting how their time working together was coming to an end and with it their main reason for being with each other, as underplayed as the both of them make it seem.

* Jesper makes Klaus laugh; them sharing laughs together where I don’t recall seeing Jesper having the same thing with Alva, nor do I remember seeing her making him laugh.

* Klaus picking up and just holding Jesper will never not be cute to me.

So, in short, I hate heteronormative romances- especially when they come out of nowhere and have to be NARRATED at the END of the movie with little to no prior build up or implications that, yes, this is how you should’ve been expecting things to end up (yes I’m still upset about the ending). I saw it coming the second I saw the official trailer and after witnessing all the bonding between Klaus and Jesper I can’t help but feel cheated- dragged along for the ride like I was watching the Titanic sinking as someone was describing an entirely different outcome at the same time. They built Klaus and Jesper’s relationship- romantic, platonic, what-have-you- and then ripped it away to shove something completely unwarranted into my face instead.

If they’re going to have the guy get together with the girl, if they have interactions that show the feeling is mutual and more than friendship, trust and respect (which every good romance should have by default), if they WANT to be together and feel attracted and desire to be together, then I’m all for it- that’s what I expect love to be. But I still feel betrayed and sad and angry at the ending, especially since I feel like Alva and Jesper got together for the simple reason of deterring people like me from thinking Jesper and Klaus would or should end up together, even to the point of killing him off. I can’t prove it, and I’m sure that’s not why he died, but I’m going to say something that I know sounds mean but I don’t mean it spitefully:

I don’t care.

I don’t care if Klaus’ death and the ending it was attached to was poetic or happy-sad, bittersweet or what-have-you. I can’t help but not care because I literally haven’t seen anything break the relationship mold in a movie since I was shown my first movie or read my first romantic novel.

In any case, this movie came so, so close to being the most cathartic thing I’ve ever seen and it makes me so, so sad to have it fall prey to a completely standard method of storytelling endings when it presented such a vibrant and unique setting with the done-to-death theme of Christmas. You don’t even know how sad it makes me where, in this world of cowards afraid to make art for fear of losing money (which, I understand, everybody needs) or properly represent underrepresented groups of individuals or have a man and woman become friends and REMAIN purely friends- maybe even being the wingman/woman for their own relationship- I, against my fears, genuinely thought this film, this beautiful, inspiring masterpiece of animation, would be able to give me the shameless, unabashed and genuine non-heteronormative love I have still yet to see in a movie that doesn’t end in tragedy or act to disgrace anyone from that spectrum.

Klaus and Jesper saw parts of each other- ugly, angry, funny and secret- that nobody else saw, did things for each other that for the life of me I couldn’t find being done for the romance we were “supposed” to root for or even see coming (but, come on, “of course” they got together- what were you expecting, you wishful idiot?). For a movie with the underlying theme of how love was always better than letting spite fester into hate, it sure didn’t give me much to believe in terms of Jesper and Alva hooking up in the end. They could’ve had a friendly sort of love, but we can’t always get what we want. On that note, Pumpkin and Olaf (if that’s what his name is- I forget) getting married in the ending could’ve posed to the two clans “you hate each other, but don’t you love me?”, putting the leaders of both clans in the position of questioning their history and tradition of generations past so they didn’t lose the bonds they have in the present and that new traditions could be worth the effort for the sake of a better future. It’d be nice to see.

Anyway, no matter how it ended, you can’t tell me that Klaus and Jesper weren’t pining for each other more and more throughout the film. You can’t. Because I saw it, and no amount of ham-fisted “oh by the way” narration had to tell me it was happening or was planned “all along”.

Peace out and Merry Christmas to you all, gosh dang it.

- Flovey~Dovey

[kindness-ricochets]

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Republican National Convention

Corporalki: @monomads @sixofass @nightofviolet

Materialki: @ravenclawsandbeak [x] @incredible-disasters [x] @lystandthefandoms [x]  @plasticbattleaxe [x] 

Summary: Jesper and Wylan meet at a farmers’ convention and, long story short, they might have to overthrow the government.

Jesper was supposed to spend spring break at Nina’s—then a joint turned up in his backpack and his da decided he was coming to the convention instead. He’s miserable and bored until a chance encounter with a shy artist. He never expected to meet someone sweet, gorgeous, and interested in him in the middle of Iowa.

There’s just one tiny problem: Wylan’s father is nationally prominent and openly homophobic.

Ao3 Link 

JESPER

It all started with a joint—a single joint that wasn't even his, that he was only holding for a friend and seeing as he wasn't even friends with that guy anymore, Jesper Fahey was of the opinion that any consequences at all constituted an overreaction. He hadn't said that. He had said it wasn't his, but his da wasn't hearing a word of it. Didn't give Jesper a chance to explain himself, to point out his six months of sobriety and that he was different since leaving rehab. One joint that wasn't even his and Jesper lost any trust he had earned over the past six months. One joint that wasn't even his and instead of spending spring break with his friends, he was spending it at a farming convention. Even though it wasn't Jesper's. Even though he voluntarily took an over-the-counter drug test and proved he was sober. And, sure, he had also got himself a little over-involved in a couple of friendly card games back in December. He wasn't perfect by a far cry, but he wasn't using again. Part of him knew the smart thing to do was behave. Make a point of behaving. But he was bored and felt overwhelmingly stalled as he lay in the dark hotel room, listening to his da snore and staring at the steady light on the smoke detector until he just couldn't . He pushed back the covers and slipped from the room.

Padding down the hallway, Jesper reflected that he probably should have worn his shoes. Or at least his socks. But going back for them risked waking Colm. Jesper had left a note, but he was fairly certain going down to the hotel lobby wasn’t allowed. Doing anything besides sitting in the room watching TV wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t even allowed to eat the stupid M&M’s in the mini-bar! He wished he could have texted Nina about the injustice, her response might have cheered him up, but he couldn't. His phone had been taken away.

Anyway, he didn’t want to worry Colm, who was clearly just as nervous as Jesper was frustrated.    

The elevator doors slid open with a ding and a near-blinding light. Jesper blinked and squinted as he stepped inside—cold, cold elevator floor! Cold!—and jabbed the button for the lobby. When they first arrived, he had been surprised by how non-partisan the lobby was; it seemed like every storefront back home had a poster in it reminding everyone that the election was just a few short months away. Maybe neutrality was a better business practice in Polk County, which tended to go blue by a narrow margin.

Just off the lobby was a cocktail lounge currently in the throes of a swanky, mildly raging party. There were an awful lot of suits in there, gingerly holding glasses of liquid fun. Maybe he could have snuck in, were he not wearing his track pants and a t-shirt sporting his school mascot (“Cornhuskers - Shuck ‘em!”).  

With a sigh, he resigned himself to Starbucks. Would they even serve him in this outfit? The two other patrons looked considerably more respectable. A big, suit-clad lump of blond muscle sat at one table. At another table sat—

Well, hello .

Did this convention just get a little less farmer and a lot more interesting? A dreamy-eyed boy about Jesper’s age sat there, face propped up on his fist with red-gold curls falling over his eyes. One look at those pale, barely-parted lips and Jesper knew he wanted to kiss them. But first thing’s first: he put a little swagger into his step. As he passed the pretty boy’s table, Jesper looked him in the eye, startling him, and winked. The boy turned a very promising shade of pink.

Jesper helped himself to a seat a few moments later.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, sitting there.

“Um… I… I…” the boy stammered, before turning his attention to the muscled lump at the next table. Lump looked about ready to punch one of them. “No—it’s fine. It’s fine. You can sit with me.”

Jesper raised his eyebrows. “How generous."

“I didn’t mean it that way." He was even prettier up close. There was something familiar about him, though Jesper couldn’t quite name what. He had a sketchbook in front of him and a tin of drawing pencils. Now that his fist wasn't propping up his face, he took one of the pencils, though he didn't draw anything, just passed it between his fingers. A red mark lingered on his cheek.

Jesper sipped his coffee. He wondered if Starbucks would be rolling out those "unity cups" again this year, the ones that everyone hated during the last election. It was only March now, so they were the regular cups… and his name had been misspelled.

Jasper .

Freaking Twilight punk behind the counter…

“I’m sure you didn’t…” Jesper dropped his gaze to the pretty boy's cup, looking for his name. Waylon? Really? Jesper sincerely hoped the Twilight punk had miswritten that, no one their age was called Waylon . “…Mister Smithers.”

Pretty Boy was visibly confused, lips slightly parted and brow furrowed like this was life or death as he asked, “What?”

“Didn’t you look at your cup?” Jesper asked, like he hadn’t just only now noticed his own. Unless… “Your name’s not really Waylon, is it?”

Or had he never seen The Simpsons ? That was the only incidence Jesper knew of where someone was actually named Waylon—Waylon Smithers, the assistant character in an increasingly transparent closet.

Pretty Boy burst out laughing. He was unfairly cute laughing. The worry smoothed out of his forehead and his eyes sparkled. A human being shouldn’t have eyes so blue! When he laughed hard enough to start snorting, Pretty Boy blushed and covered his mouth adorably. His eyes were so self-consciously wide, Jesper imagined he didn't even know he had dimples.

“S’okay, anyway. Mine says ‘Jasper’. Nice to meet you, Mister Smithers.” Jesper offered a hand.

Mister Smithers accepted the handshake, looked Jesper dead in the eye and said, “You too, Mister Hale.”

Jesper laughed. “I try being nice to someone and that’s what I get!” he cried. “That’s the last time I’m nice!”

“Bet it’s not,” Mister Smithers said.

Jesper couldn’t stop the way his eyebrow quirked in interest— you bet? How much? But he stamped down the inclination. The poker incident was months behind him and he did not fancy a repeat.

Instead, he gave a determinedly confident scoff.

At home, a challenge like that would have been met, and he missed his friends all over again. Nina would have tried to make him be nicer—maybe by taking his cookies hostage at lunch. Or just making him laugh. Kaz would have rolled his eyes, sighed, or found another way to indicate he thought Jesper’s humor was stupid, but they both knew he could talk Jesper into any crazy thing. Kaz could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

Mister Smithers was not Nina or Kaz, and looked momentarily unsure how to respond to Jesper. Jesper had hoped he might go for some aggressive flirting, but given how frequently he blushed, flirting might be more Jesper’s line of work here. That was okay. He just needed to find out if his attention was welcome. It wasn’t easy to resist Jesper Fahey, with his handsome face and sparkling personality—he would be the first to tell you—but some guys are just straight. Which would be tragic, because he felt like there was already a spark between them.

He could have asked. Instead, Jesper sipped his coffee. The whipped cream was starting to melt into it. While he drank, he kept his attention on Smithers. He looked less than at ease, his gaze mostly fixed on the pencil he was fidgeting between his fingers, glancing now and again to Jesper, then back to the pencil.  

Smithers cleared his throat. “So, uh, a-are you here for the convention?” he asked. Between that and the creamy linen of the button-down shirt tucked into his khakis, Jesper guessed this wasn't another farmer's son. A not insignificant portion of the convention was about trying to sell; Smithers didn't dress like someone who got his hands dirty. "I'm here with my da," Jesper said, "he mostly grows field corn. The past couple years he's been growing corn to be used as fuel." He slipped the heat sleeve off his cup and began picking it into little pieces. "Really?" Of course it was biofuel that got Smithers to set down his pencil and focus on Jesper. Hands folded on his sketchbook, fingers still from his knuckles to his bitten nails. "I didn't think biofuels were profitable." "They're not," Jesper admitted, "yet. There's a satellite campus of the university near where I live, Da works with them. He's only able to grow anything as biofuel because of their money." Was he really talking about biofuels right now, literally the least flirty thing on the planet? But Smithers was sitting up straight like an eager student, drinking in every word, so Jesper tried to remember more of what he'd heard. The trouble was that it kept coming back to money. He kept having to explain, and maybe it would have helped if the boy sitting across from him could stop with those bobble-head nods that made his curls flop over his eyes and the occasional slip of teeth over his lower lip as he really focused. Colm couldn't afford to just grow an experimental fuel, though. That was very, very real for them. "Their legal department is like one guy," Jesper said, finding some, any excuse to veer away from finances. "He's brilliant, though. He once—I swear this is true, he went into a meeting with… the governor's office, I think, to negotiate down a fine and talked them in circles so much they ended up paying him ." Smithers' eyebrows rose. No… not Smithers. Jesper didn't like that nickname for him anymore and bought time sipping his coffee. He liked his face. It was so expressive, the way his thin lips parted in shock, or his brow furrowed in confusion like everything Jesper said was important to understand, or that one time Jesper said Steve King's name and his nose scrunched so delicately. "Is that what you want to do? Be a lawyer?" Maybe it was because Jesper was distracted that he slipped up and said, "I don't have the grades, but sometimes it's nice to think about a job other than farming." Not that he wanted to go into law, either, he just wanted options . He wanted… he wanted things he had thrown away himself, but that didn't make their absence easier. Jesper cleared his throat and went quiet for a moment. He didn't notice the other boy reaching for him until cool fingers alit gently on his hand. He didn't hold his hand or squeeze, just gave a gentle touch.

Then, suddenly, Smithers took his hand away and lowered his eyes, and that sense of familiarity was back. There was something in his veiled look and carefully neutral expression that Jesper recognized, enough to distract him from how long his eyelashes were. Definitely back to being Pretty Boy.

No… Cutie. He was more a Cutie than a Pretty Boy.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey,” Jesper interrupted, "it's okay."

"You looked tragically alone," he said, but it didn't sound judgmental or sarcastic. He seemed to genuinely mean that.  

Jesper had to smile. “You’re something, Cutie." The other boy looked away with a shake of his head, and Jesper took the opportunity to consider this new perspective. There was something fragile in him, like the pieces that made him up were independently ready to run away, like his faint freckles and turned-away gaze. The traits that weren't halfawy gone only made him prettier, like the long eyelashes. Jesper wasn't objecting, simply seeing the questioning in him. He perched in his seat like he might float away, the tips of his long fingers pressed against his sketchbook like an anchor. That was enough talk about the realities of biofuel farming. "So, what do you draw?”

“Oh, just—I’m not really good.”

“I bet you are.”

“Might as well just give me your money.”

“Hey, I’ll take a forfeit. Do I get a peek in that sketchbook along with it?”

"No way!"

"Don't be shy. C'mon, you're probably like Vermeer."

"I'm really not—"

"More of a Monet?"

He blushed. Making him blush was so much fun, especially since now he looked at Jesper with surprising determination. "Not him either."

"Manet?"

"You have eclectic taste."

"Got 'em from Ocean's Eleven," Jesper admitted.

"Well, they're all painters."

"And you are...?"

"I like to draw. With pencils."

"So you're like a comic book artist?"

"No!" Ooh, he'd hit a nerve. "I want to be a real artist, like… like Cath Riley. She works with graphite and she's a realist, she draws things that look like photographs. What she can do with just pencils… it's amazing. Some of my favorites are pictures she's drawn of two hands, one hovering over the other, they're not touching but they're so close to touching, there's electricity between them. The detail in her work? She draws every wrinkle, flexing tendon, the hairs on a knuckle. She must—she must just see everything, take in everything around her, and she recreates in this way that… it's real, but somehow has a quality of, of a dream at the same time, and she rarely does any backgrounds so instead of being the focus, her subjects are starkly isolated."

Jesper only vaguely understood most of that. Sure, the words made sense, but he didn't understand why it was special that someone drew wrinkled hands. He wasn't trying to understand, either. He was too busy watching Cutie. Suddenly he was just… lit up. His eyes sparkled. He was flushed an entirely different sort of pink and his chapped lips moved around the words like they wanted to hold onto them. He was so animated that his curls bounced when he talked. Making him blush was fun, but making him light up? Jesper had a warm, melting feeling just watching him, and he realized distantly what a goofy smile he was wearing and he didn't even care.

"...if, if that made any sense." His excited pink was already fading to an embarrassed one.

"Absolutely!" Jesper said. "Totally made sense. What else?" "What?" "Come on. Cath Riley. Tell me more about her." Before Cutie had a chance to respond, a voice from behind him said, “Time to go, Jes.” Jesper froze, then slumped his shoulders. He had almost forgotten how entirely grounded he was, having a nice time talking to a cute boy, but his da’s voice sounded utterly unamused. This wasn’t the time to try to wheedle extra minutes. He realized he had shredded the coffee's heat sleeve to a pile of depressing confetti and scooped it into one hand to throw out. Jesper slid out of his seat and grabbed his coffee. "Room number?" "Fifte—" The muscled lump cleared his throat. Cutie closed his mouth. If his da hadn't been there, Jesper might have needed to get in his face. “It was nice meeting you," Jesper said. “Likewise. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Jesper tossed one final wink and Cutie’s resulting smile almost made up for what came next. Almost.

---------------- Colm Fahey was more than capable of shouting. He didn't do it often, but he was capable—Jesper knew from multiple incidents throughout his childhood. Jesper didn't like being shouted at, but he would take it over the quietness he faced these days. When Colm was quietly angry, Jesper felt so much more alone. He felt keenly that he had disappointed his father. That he had hurt him. "Da?" Jesper ventured after too many moments of sitting quietly at the end of his bed. He hadn't tried to explain wandering off in the middle of the night. That was Jesper's contribution, his own broken quiet. The knowing that he had disappointed his father too many times and sometimes he should just shut his mouth and not make it worse. Colm had been pacing the small room. Now he stopped and turned to Jesper. Jesper couldn't help noticing the tiredness in his face. "Were you anywhere else?" "No. I just went for a coffee." "And that boy, was he… were you…" "No! I saw a cute guy, that's all!" Colm nodded. "Okay," he said. "All right, Jes." Jesper had wandered down to the lobby Starbucks in his pajamas. Colm showed up in jeans and a sweater at midnight, and Jesper knew it wasn't his concern for appearances. It was because he thought he might need to go looking for his son beyond the hotel lobby. "I woke up and you weren't here. What was I supposed to think?" It wasn't that Jesper hadn't noticed, just like he hadn't noticed the gray in his father's hair or the tiredness in his face. It wasn't that he hadn't tried . It was just… His mouth acted without his brain's consent and said, "You could have texted me if you hadn't confiscated my phone." Jesper winced at himself. He was trying. He was trying not to make it worse. But… —did his da need his phone? Did he think a guy could google where to score coke and it was that simple? "I couldn't sleep. What did you want me to do? Lie there and listen to you snoring for another six hours? You want the lamp off to sleep, you don't want me to have a phone…" Colm sighed. He sat heavily on the second bed and said, "I know it's not easy." It wasn't. Sometimes Jesper wished his da were more like the parents on TV or in books, someone to shout because I said so or just do what I tell you . Even when Da shouted, it was more about how Jesper could have gotten himself hurt. Now he just sounded worn down. Jesper dropped his head. "I'm sorry." "I know." "Not just about tonight." Colm was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I know that, too. You can keep the lamp on." "I'm… I'm tired now."

(End of Chapter One)

(The character's views on comic book artists do not reflect the author's. The character's views on Cath Riley, however, are spot on.)

[queenofangrymoths]

Saintless Stars

So this was a story I wrote for my English Class. It's post-apocalyptic and I’m proud of it. 

Trigger:  Death, Blood, Gun-violence, Stabbing. 

Given the chance, Nadya might sleep another four hundred years. Instead, she was awake and hunkered down, Aleksander scouting just mere inches from her. “Is it safe?” How her voice did not sound meek-how it not trembled-Nadya knew not. Perhaps it was the comfort the woods gave her. Saintless Woods was similar to her homeland of the Forbidden North, filled with snow and dark trees. It felt like home, back when things were simple. 

Aleksander crouched beside her, his cheeks red along with his nose and the tips of his ears. “Looks clear,” he finally admitted. Nadya nodded then stood, looking both ways as she stepped out of the snowbank they built an hour ago. Aleksander followed her, the snow crunching as they waded through it. 

The snow rained down in thick flurries but Nadya pushed on. Both of them were disheartened and cold, frustrated to no ends that Saintless woods produced no game. The bows on their back weighed heavy with disappointment, the quivers whispered little snarky messages in both of their ears. Nadya glanced at Aleksander, testing out a little idea. “How about we split up? Surely one of us will find a deer,”

For a few minutes, Aleksander did not speak, mulling over the pros and cons in his head, the gears slowly turning. In the end, desperation won by working its lever. It was the third day without any game, one more day of their supplies dwindling. Soon the food would run out and then desperation ruled over them all. “We might as well try,”

Without a sound, Nadya left him. It wasn’t long before he didn’t hear the familiar crunch of her footsteps. The loneliness crept back at once but Aleksander ignored it, continuing to walk until he found a good spot, hunkered down, and waited. The hours blended together, his thoughts were few, mostly on how Nadya was doing. Better than I am, he hoped.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere stepped a doe, looking holy in his coffee dark eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly unslung the bow strapped across his back. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew out an arrow and took aim. Within minutes, the doe slumped, staggering away with an arrow lodged in her lung. Aleksander followed at a distance, waiting for her to collapse. It wasn’t long until he walked away with the doe over his shoulders.

“Thank the saints,” Nadya whispered under her breath as she watched him approach the river, doe over his shoulders. It was a nice size and in Nadya’s eyes, it was a treasured saint’s relic.

“How’s your luck?” He asked, sliding the deer on the snow before crouching next to her.

Nadya was settled by the river bank, a hole cracked in the ice and she was stabbing fish with an arrow. “Pretty good, just want to get a couple more.”

“Get your own,” She slides over, just teasing. Together they fished, stabbing fish every chance they got. In the end, a dozen fish suffocated on the river bank. Nadya beamed proudly, the sight of all the food made her want to cry. Finally, a good haul. They both thought as Aleksander wrapped up the fish and Nadya shouldered the deer before turning back for the bunker.

The good thing about the bunker as it wasn’t some hole with a ladder going down. Instead, it had two steel doors with a security code. Since his hands were free, Aleksander punched in the code and the doors creaked open. As quickly as they could, they shuffled inside to escape the endless cold. The lights flickered on and off as they descended deeper in the bunker, finally hitting the living area after three levels of security measures.

 "Hey, guys, how was hunting-" Nikolai's voice bounced off the walls as he tinkered with the crew’s radio. He glanced at them only to look up nearly at once, his hazel eyes widened, “Saints, you got something!”

“We got more than something,”  Aleksander lifted the bundle of fish.

“That’s great - Saint Anastasia and Saint Edith, is that a deer?!” Nikolai’s voice grew excited enough that it drew Kaz’s attention. All of them heard Kaz’s cane making it’s thump, thump, thump against the cement floor as he made his way to them.

“I’ll add you to the list,” Nikolai deserting the radio to meet his boyfriend, Kaz, standing in the doorway. The black haired youth narrowed his eyes at the deer and bundle of fish, his knuckles white on the head of his cane.

“You got a deer.” He said, they nodded. “Bring it in the kitchen. Now.”

“What he means is ‘thank the saints and whatever dark god I worship’,” Nikolai translated as they followed Kaz to the kitchen. The kitchen was as modern as possible with a working fridge, freezer, sink, and stove. It was Kaz’s kingdom and he ruled it with an iron fist.

“Put the deer on the table. The fish next to the stove,” he instructed, Nadya was happy to dump the doe on the table and Kaz wasted no time starting to clean it. “Morozova, leave,” Kaz ordered. Aleksander quickly vanished from sight before Kaz snapped at him or threw a punch. “Nikolai, fillet the fish.”

“Only if you kiss me first,” teased the blond. Kaz sighed, wondering why he was dating this flirtatious fool but he needed those fishes to be on the grill in five minutes or less and a quick kiss was a worthy sacrifice to get Nikolai to shut up.

“Nadya, you can go,” Kaz said as he got back to working on the deer. She looked up from where she was, taking out a sheet of ice to be melted for drinking water.

“What?”

“Go. Now.” He snapped and she ran. Sure, it was a big bunker but it was still a bunker. One did not piss off Kaz and live to tell the tale. So Nadya made her way to the Slat. The Slat was what they called the hangout space, most of the crew was there if they weren’t busy or doing something important.  It was a comfortable space, nice and warm with plenty of blankets to go around.

Right now, most of the others were busy in the shop or the greenhouse, some were sleeping or making weapons. So the Slat was empty except for Kate, their reader. Her job was running the little library and stealing more books when she found them. She was on the couch, reading a book under two blankets.“Well looky here, it looks like you’ve had a scare! Let me guess, a run with Kaz?”

“Something like that,” Nadya admitted, settling herself next to the reader who grinned and marked her page. “Can we continue that history lesson we started the other day?”

Kate brightened up. Her love of books and history went hand in hand, so when Nadya came to the reader looking to catch up on all the history, Kate was more than enthused. “Of course! Where were we?”

“I think Ivan the Gilded?”

“Ah, yes, I remember!” Almost immediately, Kate launched herself in a long history lesson, Nadya listening eagerly, not even getting sleepy as Kate droned on and on. Time blurred as they worked their way to more recent day. “In the year of Saint Louis IV, the winter came hard. People expected this, the winters were getting harder but Spring never arrived.”

“Why?” Nadya asked, furrowing her brows.

“Religious zealots will tell you humanity pissed off the Saints, big time. Buuuuuut my bet is on global warming. We’re in an ice age!”

Nadya nodded. The second option made sense. “Then what?”

“Well. Society crumbled, bunkers were built, and the determined ones learned how to deal with the snow.” Kate shrugged, “honestly, my mom used to complain all the time that this ‘wasn’t bad as the winters when I was your age…’ but I think she was just messing with me.” She said with a chuckle.

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Nadya sighed, stealing one of Kate’s blankets. Now she was all caught up on history, she no longer was able to claim the ‘oh I’m a newbie, I don’t know anything’ card. It wasn’t like she used it often but still, it was nice to have in the back of her pocket when Nikolai cornered her to help him fix the heating system or test some new, dangerous invention. “What are you reading?” Kate lifted her book, flashing a black cover with orient gold detail. “King of Scars. Oldie but a goodie.”

“How good?”

“There’s a character named Nikolai in it.”

Her ice blue eyes light up, “Gimme.” She reached for the book.

Kate tugged it, “Nu-uh, you got to read the Grisha series then the Six of Crows!” Nadya stared at her, defeated slightly. “Don’t worry, I have them all.”

Nadya huffed, rolling her eyes. “Fiiiiiine. Better get me the first book, ASAP.” Kate grinned and returned to her novel, Nadya leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. No doubt that in his quarters, Aleksander was passed out. She must have dozed off because the next thing, she opened her eyes to see Nikolai strut into the Slat, do his best butler bow, and say with a flourish, “Dinner is served, my ladies.”

Kate giggled behind her hand, got to her feet, and ran right past Nikolai. Although strict in the kitchen, Kaz’s food was to die for even if it was simple. Nadya sat for a minute before she found the will to stand up. “Shall we walk together?” She asked the blond, giving him her best curtsy.

“Gladly,” Arm in arm, they made their way to the mess. Kaz must have rung the dinner bell because the rest of the crew was making their way to the long, large table. It reminded Nadya of the feast tables of her youth, the food was much simpler, and there were no king-just weary people trudging their way through the snow. Nadya made a mental list of the names but people were always coming and going.

There’s Kaz of course, Aleksander….Kate, Celaena, Race and Spot flirting, Jesper, Nina, and Matthias must be out scouting still. Wylan is threatening Kuwei with bodily harm, what else is new - oh, she’s new. Wait no, that’s Alina, crap. Rowan is sulking but Aelin is cheering him up and so her list went. Filing in names, noting who was there, trying to pick out where she might sit for the night. “You’ll be with me and Kaz tonight, don’t worry.” Nikolai hummed.

“Kaz and I,” she corrected.

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Shut up.” Then he sat her beside Kaz, starting to immediately praise his lover on what a wonderful meal he made! Kaz, although he always looked like little ruthless schemer, seemed pleased. Nadya slides her own praise as everyone settled to eat.

Dinner was lovely with venison cuts and vegetables from the garden. Nadya listened to the endless chattering. Kate and Alina chatted over a new book, Nikolai flirting with Kaz, Rowan and Aelin’s endless bickering. Aleksander was across her, eating his venison slowly. “Tired?” he asked.

“Utterly exhausted,” she confessed.

“Me too,”

She yawned, covering her mouth. “After dinner, I think I’m going to take a long nap.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really?” Since she woke up, Nadya slept very little. ‘I’ve been asleep for four hundred years - I will sleep when I’m dead’ was a common phrase she uttered in the dead of the night but now she was exhausted. She nodded. “Odd, don’t you think?”

“I’m all oddities now,” She confessed, picking at her dinner.  Aleksander watched as she swallowed the last bite and slipped out of the room. In the kitchen, she washed off her plate and set it out to dry, being careful not to make more work for whatever poor soul might do the dishes under Kaz’s cold eyes. Then she slipped off to the room she shared with the others, pulled back the room divider and dived right in bed, not bothering to take her boots off.

When she awoke, the alarms were going off. Loud and braying like a mad donkey. She lay in a stupor for a minute, wondering why the shrill noise was attacking her ears and why she saw nothing but red. Then it hit her. Someone or something got through the first set of doors. She sat up quickly and bolted out of the room, glad she was fully dressed. She finds Celaena strapping her belt of bullets on her before loading her rifle. “What’s going on?”

“Security breach,” Celaena answers, focused entirely on loading the rifle quickly despite taking precious seconds ensuring she loaded it correctly. Nadya groaned as she gathered up her own weapons.

“Yeah, no shit, Lena, but by what?” Situations went through her mind, flashes of raiders-men and women were driven mad by the cold, monsters of kind stalking through the steel doors. She forced herself to remain calm as she fastened her holster, followed by her scabbard.

“A sesya.” Celaena said dryly before rushing out of the room, Nadya following the slender blonde as soon as she grabbed her axes. They ran together, punching in security codes as they went. For the most part, the steels doors, reforged by Nikolai and the other tinkers whenever they discovered something to make them stronger, kept the monsters out. Monsters like the man-eating wendigos and ruthless yokai.

These monsters were always in the world, even before the Great Winter arrived but now their numbers were endless - the winter only encouraged their siege against mortals. But sesya were different and it was easy for a sesya to blast through the steel doors and destroy them all. Nikolai was still working on his newest invention, trying to prevent the exact thing happening right now.

The sounds of battles and laughter filled Nadya’s ears quickly. The first workroom was ruined and cold, scattered with the crew fighting back the unholy monster trying to steal their home. Nikolai was swearing under his breath, a curse mingled between every single word, and really it wasn’t nearly as softly as he thought it was - next to him was Kaz. Kaz was silent as always, relentlessly shooting the sesya with deadly aim.

“Nadya!” Her name called from behind a knocked over table, her eyes swerved to find Aleksander tucked behind it, loading his rifle. “Get over!!” His voice pinched with desperation as the laughter boomed in the room. Nadya dived for the safety as a knife flew past her. He pulled her close, both of them pressed tightly against steel. She opened her mouth to thank him when a crack exploded in the area and a scream followed.

“That was my good leg!!!” screamed Kaz, hissing in pain and gripping the head of his cane even tighter as his bad leg was forced to take all of his weight.

“Are you okay?! Oh, saints, Kaz- you’re bleeding, you’re bleeding, fuck- we got to get you to the infirmary-” Nikolai jabbered, the panic set in at the sight of his boyfriend’s bleeding leg.

Kaz gave him a hard shake. “Later, okay?! Focus on the mark, foxy!” He grabbed his gun again, clicked to reload it and unleashed hell on the sesya. It made Kaz feel better but did nothing to the laughing monster.

Nadya tore her eyes away from the bickering couple and focused them on the sesya laughing above them. She wasn’t sure what the sesya found funny-if it was anything or the thing was just mad but it made it hard to miss. It was a sad thing, it looked so human and beautiful with long dark locks whipping around its pale face, covering fierce blue eyes and red lips booming laughter from a powerful throat. With a thrust of its slender hands, the winds screamed some hideous melody. The sesya reminded her of a witch that lived in her village but Nadya didn’t let it distract her.

“What do we do??” She yelled to Aleksander, the dark-haired fellow finished loading his gun. She sighed and prayed to the Saints this monster couldn’t only be killed by a bullet. She was a bad shot but if they could slay the sesya with a bullet-why hadn’t Kaz killed the damn thing yet? He was one of the best shots in the bunker but it was still laughing.

“Aim for its heart! It’s too close to get a stab in, a bullet will have to do!” He yelled back, taking aim before firing. Without her consent, a plan began to form in Nadya’s head. A crazy, dangerous plan but still - a plan, better than just shooting bullets in the area and hoping to the Saints they didn’t ricochet and hit a member of the crew.

“Aleksander,” She whispered, her voice dangerously soft. “Cover me.”

“What?!”

”Cover me!” She yelled before flinging herself away from the table’s safety. She yelled similar messages to Kaz and Nikolai, asking them not to shoot her as she ran straight for the sesya. Maybe this was how she died. Not today, She thought as she avoided bullets, winds, and random objects alike. “Hey! Sesya!” She screamed when she was close enough, drawing a knife, and throwing it. The wind caught it and the sesya turned to stare at her. The eyes were eerily family but Neday pushed on and drew her dagger.

It kept staring at her, not moving as she stalked closer. “You.” It whispered when Nadya was less than five feet away. “You,” it repeated in its tittering voice. It sounded even more like her Zoya. It made her heart stop and stutter but this wasn’t Zoya. Her Zoya was dead and buried. Had to be, after four hundred years.

“Me,” Nadya answered and before the sesya did anything-move its hands or laugh, she thrust the dagger in its heart. “Me,” she whispered as it slumped against her, chilling blue blood spilling all over her.

“You. You. You. It’s always you.” it jabbered while it died, the wind vanishing as it took its last breath. “Nadya, why?” It cried before the world stopped. Her heart chilled at the sound of its familiar voice. Zoya? But how? Then her heart broke as she realized what she had done

The laughter did not return, neither did the wretched wind. All that was left was the bleeding body and the bitter cold. The world stopped then started again. The first to snap out of it was Nikolai - he wasted no time in snapping out orders and carrying his gremlin of a boyfriend to the infirmary.

The chaos came back but it was different chaos. People were setting things right, carrying weapons back to the armory, and heading to the infirmary for some healing. Everything was moving, buzzing, some of Nikolai’s fellow tinkers were assessing the hole in the door.

No one noticed Nadya stepping out of the bunker with the body in her arms. No one saw her dig an unmarked grave and pray over the sesya.  No one never needed to see the little funeral anyway - no need for her tears to be witnessed then to be pointed at for an explanation. Nadya slipped back in the bunker and made herself useful.

Meanwhile deep in the infirmary, Nikolai was helping Sasha deal with the bullet lodged in Kaz’s good leg. Really, he should be upstairs fixing the door but he couldn’t just leave Kaz to deal with Sasha alone. “It would be out of your leg already if you stopped moving!” The little devil of a healer yelled at Kaz.

Kaz grunted, his face blanched from the bloodlust. “Just make sure I don’t end up with two bad legs, Sasha.” He was gripping the side of the bed hard enough Nikolai worried it might break. If Kaz was holding his hand, he’d snap it in two. He needed his hand.

“Stop moving then!” She hissed at him, grabbing the tweezers. Nikolai offered his hand to Kaz anyway, despite the fact he might break it. He took it, Kaz’s grip was like iron but it loosened meer minutes when the bullet tinked against the kidney dish. Sasha moved on to cleaning the wound, stitching it shut, and bandaging it. Nikolai’s fingers remained intact and Sasha moved on the next wounded idiot.

“I can’t believe you got shot in your good leg,” Nikolai remarked, rubbing his hand.

Kaz groaned, resting a hand over his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He said bitterly, behind his hand he glared at the white bandage.

“It’ll heal right, this one,” Nikolai said, a bright smile on his lips- Kaz saw right through it.

“Stop wasting your time on me and go fix that damn door.” He told him flatly.

The smile vanished. “What? Tired of my gorgeous face?”

“No, you just will pace around, looking strained and wringing your hands. Might as well send you off now,” Kaz watched his boyfriend. He didn’t deny it. The security breach continued to bother Nikolai’s inventor mind, wondering what he could have done to prevent it. If he stayed cooped up with Kaz,  he might drive himself mad.

“And you’re fine with this?”

“Just go.” Sure, he tugged Nikolai in a kiss first but he let him go. Let him figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. Kaz sighed and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. He shut his eyes and waited for his REM cycle to kick his ass.

Many floors above Kaz and the infirmary, Aleksander found Nadya passed out on the lone couch in one of the workrooms. Someone was kind enough to put a blanket over her, the room was terribly cold. He shook his head, four hundred years later and she can still sleep anywhere. She was too thin for someone of her height, far too thin, Aleksander tutted as he carried her back to her little section of the woman’s chambers.

He knew where she kept her favorite pajamas-another thing unchanged-and it wasn’t the first time he got her in bed without seeing anything. He set her weapons against the wall as he folded her clothes away. He was about to leave when she said it.

“Sasha.” He turned to look at her. Her blue eyes were wide and full of tears. “Sasha,”  she repeated as if the first time didn’t get his attention.

“Yes, Nadya?”

“I killed her, Sasha,” she whispered, horrified.

He blinked at her slowly. “Who?”

“Zoya.” He shook his head, opened his mouth to tell her Zoya was long dead. She didn’t need to worry over killing her wife now. “I killed her, Sasha, I killed her!” Her voice grew louder as he shushed her. “My Zoya, Sasha, I killed my Zoya, how could I do such a thing??”  

“You didn’t kill her, she did not die by your hand, Nadya,” He reassured her, pushing her down as she tried to get up - wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Slowly, she calmed down to the point where Aleksander knew she was drifting off to sleep again. “Sleep well, Nadya, and not too long,” he teased.

She stared at him with her icy eyes. “Zoya,” she said one last time before shutting her eyes and falling in a deep sleep. Aleksander shut the sheet and left the living quarters, dipping his head at everyone he passed. He was no mood for a conversation. He passed Nikolai at the door, who perked up and opened his mouth to say something but Aleksander kept moving, vanishing through the hole in the door.

He did not know where he was going but he knew it when he stopped at long last. A little grave, far too insignificant for all the damage the women inside had done. He stared at the grave, his eyes dark with hatred for the person deep inside the grave. Why? You may ask, sit down and listen then.

Once upon a time, there were three girls. They were witches although one seemed to be powerless she was not all that she seemed. Two of these witches lived happily, marrying each other when they were of age and lived together in wonderful matrimony. However, this left the third witch all alone, alone to brew in hatred and spite. To make herself feel better, she put a curse on the two lovers. The powerless one fell in an undead sleep, unable to wake but unable to die while the other vanished, looking for some way to wake her wife up and lost herself. Only the third witch found this was not enough (it never is), so she made a deal with a Frost Jotun.

“Bring an eternal winter,” she asked.

It regarded her with interest as we would a mouse. “Bring me a Roseblood thorn and I will consider it.” The witch brought back the thorn and it took it with great intent. “I will do as you ask but your fellow villagers are coming to kill you. Worry not, how many times they stab you will be how many years I will wait to start this winter of ours,” Then it vanished, thorn in claw.

“Wait!” The witch screamed as the mob descended on her, killing her with four stabs to the chest. Her spirit relished in the thought that in only four years, an eternal winter would hit but Jotun years were long and after four hundred years, it at long last arrived. Now, four hundred years later, Circe’s grave remained untouched.

“Are you happy now?” The stone said nothing, as stone’s often did.

“Zoya is dead and Nadya killed her. I hope you’re happy.”

Still, the stone did not reply. He glared at it even harder.

“I know what you did, Circe,” He took a deep breath “but we will continue to survive. I hope you’re happy.” Then he turned and stalked his way back to the bunker.

THE END

[docholligay]

The Siren and The Centaur,part One: The Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Another Patreon release!!This is the commission from Elaina/Rhio! I hope all of you enjoy it, and if you do, tell her! Maybe she'll commission the continuance of the story, though I think this is plenty readable as one standalone, too. 2.840 words.

She loved the world she lived in. She loved the way the sun and the wind made the wheat into a sea when it grew tall enough, the way it rolled and danced like an ocean made of sunshine. She loved to run the entire length of the island, to the edge where the water splashed up against the rocks and roared. She loved the crisp smell of the forest in winter, when the snow laid upon the branches and the birds were still.

She loved the stories the old folks told, about the things that lived on the island, the different peoples who lived mostly on in each other’s imaginations. The pixies that lived at the far garden fields to the south, and the bright and colorful world there, with parties you could see at night, if you looked, tiny dancing balls of colored light over the deep grass. The serpents of the high rocks, whose claws could crush a centaur without effort, who could breathe ice and fire and who sometimes soared over the island. And the mermaids, the mermaids were her favorite, dwelling in the deep unknown of the sea--she had been to the rocks, and she often went to the garden fields, but centaurs, as a rule, did not go to the sea, and it contained all the tales that thrilled and frightened the colts.

She even loved her little town, and her little job in it, working as an apprentice blacksmith, spending her nights going to the little bar where her friend Mina worked slinging ales and ciders, where her friend Mako would bring leftovers from her little bakery. All was small and all was perfect, and very rarely did Haruka ever feel that something was missing from her life. Even when she did, she could not have conjured what the answer to the riddle might have been, and would have simply taken another ale, and another honeycake, and thought no more on the matter.

But even the sun enters the sea, sometimes, they say, and Haruka did occasionally fall into melancholy as dramatically as a rock falls into the ocean, and just as difficult to reclaim.

It was on an occasion such as this that Mina found herself rapidly losing patience with her gangly golden friend.

“Haruka,” she put a chipped ceramic mug of ale on the long wooden bar, “I promise you, by the time Harvest Festival rolls around you’ll have forgotten all about...whatever it is you’re upset about.”

Haruka’s head shot up from its place on the bar. “You don’t even know??”

“Who can keep track? Hey Jesper.” She held her hand up in a brief greeting as the man entered the bar. “The usual?”

He nodded gruffly and laid a coin on the bar as Haruka continued, Mina half-interestedly pouring a mug of cider.

“Oh, it’s NOTHING, I GUESS,” she threw her arms out dramatically in front of her, “just that...I’m obviously meant to go through this world,” She stubbornly jutted out her chin, “I guess I’m meant for something else. Something more. And if I have to be alone, and I have to help this world myself...I--”

“Oh, this is about Illinka being out last night with Pallavi.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Maybe your big dramatic quest is to actually ask a girl out instead of just waiting around and being dramatic in front of her.”

“I am not dramatic!” Haruka thumped her fists against the bar, knocking over her ale onto her shirt. “God...dammit.”

“Kay.” Mina tossed a bar rag at her.

“Don’t say okay that way, Mina.” She frowned heavily, wiping at her shirt.

“Listen,” Mina continued, “I’m going up to Percheron at the end of the moon. Tons of girls there. Haflinger’s just...small. There’s someone out there for you, my moody blonde friend.”

“Met my husband at a sale up in Percheron.” Jesper added, in his helpfully grumpy way..

“See?” Mina gestured. “Percheron. Great place. Come with me, we’ll hook up. Kind of the only place I can meet guys. Social deviant and all.”

Jesper shook his head disapprovingly.

Haruka nodded. “Percheron it is, then.” She shrugged. “I guess.”

Mina leaned over the wood of the bar, leaning her elbow on it. “We’ll have a hell of a time, Ruka. Percheron parties to rival a pixie. And who knows? Happiness might be where you least expect it.”

And that, Haruka would concede for the whole of her life, was very true.

___

But there were weeks before the end of the moon, and while Haruka had resolved herself to go to Percheron with Mina, she had not quite been able to shake the simple melancholy that had settled over her.

Haruka was a contradiction in herself, people often said. She was powerful and strong, and one of the fastest centaurs in town. She was delicate in other ways, her Da and Pere had often said, the kind of girl who would uncomplainingly break her arm, and whose heart broke at an the smallest rejection. She had tried very hard, over the course of her life, to become the tough, brash, calloused thing her body and her mouth clearly wanted her to be, but her heart had trouble cooperating, and maybe it wasn’t so hard to see why Illinka hadn’t chosen to return her affections.

The swampy forest at the end of the island was the stuff of nightmares for many a colt. And Haruka, in her adult life, knew there were good reasons to frighten them off--the roots jutted unevenly out of the marshy ground, the dapple of the sun through the heavy foliage could be disorienting, and if you fell and broke your leg, no one might find you. Centaurs had lost their lives in this bog.

And Haruka had, quite without realizing it, wandered there.

Normally, at this point, she simply would have turned around, headed back to Haflinger, and maybe stopped in at Mako’s bakery for a cookie and a bit of comfort, and then maybe she would head off to Mina’s house of a chat, and her life would seem about as pleasant as it generally was, and she would hold the promise of Percheron in her heart.

But there was a small light that caught her eye, in the dark there, that might have been a will-o-the-wisp, and might have been a spot of sunlight streaming through the branches, and which the answer was didn’t really seem to matter, as Haruka’s hooves seemed to move on their own.

The shadows played against the deep green of the swampy floor, where mosses seemed to pass for grass, cushioning strangely the step of Haruka’s hoof, giving way as if she were stepping on a mattress, springing back as her hoof left it. The little points of light came like confetti, dancing across Haruka’s back and shoulders.

This was a foolish idea, Haruka knew. She’d told no one where she was going, or how lo9ng she might expect to be there. She had a habit of that, that had long annoyed her Da and Pere, who sometimes, when she was a child, had spent too many dinnertimes calling out into the tall grass, wondering where their impulsive and wayward daughter had gone.

And still she drew deeper, as if called, as if sang to in the tender lullaby of this dark land.

A beam of light appeared, in the distance, and Haruka cocked her head as she looked at it.

She could hear the fall of water, and though she knew she could not be far from the ocean, not now, it seemed somehow different. Like the waterfall at the edge of the serpent’s rocks, almost although Haruka knew that could not possibly be true. This place was too deep to have such a think, the soil too wet and soft to have the jutting rock with the silver water spilling down over them like a veil. She had been fascinated by it, as a child. Mina’s Ma once had to pull her back, when she had gone too close during a picnic.

Centaurs drown easy, she had said

___

Michiru was bored, much of the time, but much of it she considered her own fault. It was not that there were not a dozen entertainments in her kingdom, all easily had and ripe for the taking. The sea was a land of plenty, and there were always lavish banquets and dances, concerts to hear and art to be made. They cavorted with the dolphins and drowned the humans and took their treasure, and all should have been well in any siren’s world.

And she could admit all these things, that her world was lovely and bright, and filled with endless treasures, and her people were jovial and elegant, and that she had no reason to feel even the smallest bit of malaise at her station in life. From the time she was young, she had found no fascination with the brightly colored trinkets and magical songs, always looking for something else, something more, and nothing had ever found that magical place in her where excitement was kindled, true and real, like the land’s fire, that she had seen from afar, never burning under the sea.

On this day, she let out a deep and low sigh, reclining against the rock in her bedroom.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, your father is the emperor.” Rei picked at her metallic red fin, and looked back up at Michiru, annoyed. “It must be so hard here, in your giant room in your giant palace.” She picked up a stuffed piece of sea cucumber, rich with sea cream, and considered it.

“God ahead and take them, they were from a suitor who thinks I will somehow care for her if she brings pointless little treats.” Michiru remained reclined on her rock, teal tail sheening with navy as the light played over it. “The scarf, as well. “

Rei picked up the scarf, a silken length in purple and red, danced with golden trim. “This is a rarity, you know, and plenty of sirens--”

“Rei, you tire me.”

She still clutched the scarf in one hand, fist balled. “Oh, you’re tired! I’m the one who has to put up with your bourgeois apathy, every single day, when you have everything, everything! You could possibly--”  

Michiru turned up onto her hand and looked over at Rei. “So I shall take that as a rejection of these gifts as well? No matter, I’m sure Mohini will happi--”

“I didn’t say that,” She tied the scarf in her hair, “I mean, someone should be using it, I think, and it goes really nice with my fin.” She picked up the cucumbers. “I’ll give these to Usagi.”

Michiru laughed. “Of course.”

Rei tilted her head, and made the rare choice toward compassion at Michiru’s melancholy boredom.

She swam over to her, eyebrows knitted in thought. “Do you want to go down to the shipwreck, on the other side of the island?”

“It’s not strictly necessary to attempt to cheer me, Rei.” She twirled the shell necklace against her collarbone.

Rei threw up her hands, annoyed, finally, though not defeated, she would never say defeated, just playing hardball. “Well fine,” She snatched up the box of sea cucumbers, “I’ll just take Usagi. You can sit here and pout in your palace.”

“Yes,” Michiru laid back down on her bed, “I believe I shall.”

It was a lie, of course--the palace was too full of bothers and interruptions for her to think properly, with servants and her parents and an endless parade of very boring and useless suitors. It was, very likely, not incorrect, the things Rei said about her--that she was spoiled and decadent and had no idea of the kind of advantages she had--but also, she cared little. Her life was a string of moments, each more stunningly boring than the last. The music and art adn poetry and dance of the palace meant nothing to her.

But, at the very least, she had her lagoon, which she favored so well, and in which she found a certain amount of peace and reflection, and it was there that she planned on going, never to tell a soul that it existed at all, buried as it was through tiny caves where eels slipped in and, only to surface in the turquoise jewel of the light-flecked lagoon.

She tucked her hair into a gold band, and swam off into the sweet deep of the sea.

___

Haruka entered the clearing, the trees tightly knit around the edge of a deep and crystalline pool, the waterfall bubbling lace into the deep blue. It was an oasis in the deep of this swampy forest, and Haruka was pleased to have found it, even if there was not much here for her. It seemed to drop off right at the edge. It must be connected to the sea, somehow, although the water looked fresh. She had heard of this, little pools filtered by the sandy loam that lived at the edge of the island, but she had never seen one before.

She knelt by the edge of it, letting her fingers drag through the water. It was cool and sweet, and the light danced across it in little jumps and hops, springing to her eyes like fireworks.

It was a nice place to be alone with her own thoughts, to think forward on the trip to Percheron, on what she would wear and what she would say to the mares there, wordly and impossibly beautiful. They couldn’t want much with a country bumpkin from Haflinger, but she was determined to try. At the very least, she had promised Mina she would try.

She opened the bag slung around her and took out a thick sandwich she’d prepared that morning. She’d told herself she didn’t plan to be out long today, that she was going to stay home a bit and help with the garden out back, but the bag she packed had said differently, her thick sandwich and the small bottle of drink with its thick cork in the top, loosed with a satisfying pop.

She brushed a few crumbs off her shirt, licking a bit of mustard off her finger. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon, her shirked responsibilities, which she would surely catch hell for, aside.

There was something else, though, some sense in the air of being watched. She looked around, but nothing seemed to be lurking in the deep of the trees, and there was certainly nothing that could be seen by the pool.

She shrugged. It was nothing, she was sure. Mina was always accusing her of being jumpy.

She brought her sandwich to her lips again, when something burst out of the water in front of her, breaking the surface in a smooth silver motion, not two feet from where Haruka sat at the edge of the lagoon.

She sprung to her hooves and reared, accidentally stomping her sandwich as she came back down.

“Oh!” Michiru cried out, “I had no intention of frightening you so. I apologize.”

The softness of her voice and her extended hand made Haruka feel a little silly, as her hooves still stomped impatiently on the ground. “I wasn’t scared.”

“No, of course not,” Michiru looked up at her, her teal hair making ribbons in the clear blue water, “just surprised, I imagine.”

“A mermaid.” Haruka stared at her in amazement. “I’ve never….I’ve never seen one before.”

“Mermaid.” the word fell off her tongue with raw fascination. Yes, of course, that must be what they called sirens. It was ugly and didn’t go with her, in any way that  she could conceive, and yet, she could not remove it from her mind.

It was not so unlike the horsegirl who stood before her now, looking at her with wide grey eyes. She had never seen one before, not up close, only running on the coastlines of the island she lived so near. She had been told they looked the most like sirens, out of any of the tribes of creatures in her world, but that seemed a lie, so close. Her body was broader and more muscular than a siren’s, even the great strong ones who guarded the castle. It made sense, she supposed, matching the body they shared with horses.

Did she know about horses? It was on the far side of the sea where they lived, where men rode them as beasts of burden, where they did not have the cleverness and wit of a real creature. It was very likely that she did not, horsemen did not sail, not that she had ever seen or had ever been written in a textbook.

The horsegirl was still staring at her wordlessly.

“Michiru,” she said, “My name is Michiru.”

“Haruka,” she put her hand to her chest, almost surprising herself by the introduction, “That’s what they call me.”