#lexil merrayil x prophetess

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

Fictober Prompt #19

Fandom: Enderal

Characters: Lexil Merrayil (stupid circumflex a), Gertrude

Notes: Set after the Black Light quests

The Beacon hummed, the strange drone drowning every other sound in Gertrude's ears. She stood at the parapet, looking down at Ark with eyes that did not see, deaf to all. A lone figure bathed in the dim, moon-like glow of power that surged through the mechanical veins of the weird machine; she stood like a half-stone sentinel on the prow of Malphas' great ark of stone.

"Gertrude? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Lexil. Gertrude turned away from the city and its multitude of tiny lights.

"No, no, no, it's fine," the Prophet said wearily, passing a hand over her eyes. "What did you need?"

Lexil had the grace to look moderately abashed. "I didn't," he said. "I simply wondered what you were doing."

"Ah." Gertrude turned back to the city. "Just thinking. You're welcome to join me if you are so inclined."

Lexil correctly interpreted this invitation as a request for someone to talk to, and joined her at the prow of stone. "If it isn't too private," he asked, "What were you thinking of?"

Gertrude was quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on the back of her hand with her other thumb. "A lot," she admitted. "Mostly what I'll do after... you know, after this. If there is an after." She added this last sentence so quietly that none but an Aeterna could have heard. Lexil was quiet, simply listening. "I mean, I can't go back to what I was doing. And I cannot do this anymore. I can't keep running on crisis mode; I can't keep losing friends, I can't--" she stopped with a harsh, shaky breath, unable to finish.

"You could stay," Lexil said softly. "I... would... I mean, it would be a great loss if you were to leave us. Perhaps you can help us rebuild, rebuild an Order without the Lightborn."

Gertrude turned to him, a halting smile on her face, and a half-hearted teasing light in her eyes. "What were you going to say?"

The Archmagister dropped his eyes. "Nothing," he muttered. "It's... not important."

The halting smile became a real one. "Lexil," she said warningly.

He looked very awkward for a second, a sight both amusing and heartwarming. I should not have said that was written in across his expression in broad strokes. "I... would miss you, personally," he admitted. "I have rather enjoyed our... friendship."

The smile became a full-blown grin. "That is very kind of you, Lexil," she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight."

Lexil only managed to recover sufficiently once she was already halfway down the stairs, but he called a shaky 'goodnight' in return.

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

Standing On The Edge

(Or: I can’t do titles for shit) Little, little bit of smutty stuff down at the bottom

(inspired by this post by @anisanthus )

The auroras danced across the sky in ribbons of green light. Minerva watched them, feeling more or less contented. All felt right with the world and she was at peace for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jespar flirted happily with Calia lower down on the deck, making the young woman blush and cover her cheeks. Minerva had to grin at the incorrigible mercenary.

"I thought I'd find you up here," Lexil said, his soft boots making little sound on the sleekly varnished wood. "How are you?"

She smiled shyly, her eyes shifting from the skies to his face. It was all the answer he honestly needed.

"I'm glad," Lexil told her sincerely. "I... I wanted to talk to you."

We speak now, don't we? she signed, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

He hesitated slightly before taking a deep breath and plowing on. "About... well, about when you kissed me in front of the Beacon."

She froze, trepidition in every line of her body. Ah, she mouthed.

"Please don't misunderstand me, Minerva," he said quickly. "I do…" now he hesitated again. "What I'm trying to say is I think you could do far better than an Archmagister of dying Holy Order who's far too fond of his luxuries."

I don't want better, warred with Don't sell yourself short. Minerva wished desperately that she could speak.

Lexil she signed, spelling out his name with her fingers. I-D-O-N-T-C-A-R-E. She thought for a moment, trying to figure out her phrasing. You think too little of yourself. Enjoying the luxuries you have earned is no sin.

"You flatter me," he said sadly. "I do not think that when all is said and done, that I could make you happy. I have nothing to offer you besides myself; no skills that would be particularly useful outside the Order."

She laid a large hand on his arm. It occurred to her that their roles had been reversed from the last time they had spoken. Now she comforted him instead of the other way around.We could all die within a week, she signed with one hand. We should make the most of what time we have. And besides, she added with a ghost of a grin. I'm sure we could go to Qyra.

He passed a hand across his forheard. "Perhaps I am being a fool, but it's been all I could think of for days now. Your whole-hearted disdain of it is both humbling and flattering."

Now, she signed You are babbling.

And so she solved the problem by kissing him thoroughly.

Things got a bit heated from there. When Minerva finally broke away, Lexil chuckled a little dazedly. "Why are you stopping?" he asked, tracing her face with his slender fingertips.

She tugged him in the direction of the cabins, a playful grin on her face.

Minerva curled around her Lexil, his wiry body nestled against her enormous, burly frame. He slept lightly but soundly, finally relaxed under her inexperienced but gentle ministrations.

Their lovemaking had been slow and tender; allowing for the relative inexperience on both sides. Minerva was well satisfied with her lover, and she hoped that Lexil felt the same.

She remembered arching over him, head thrown back in silent exaltation as she came hard around him. She remembered her hair falling around his face when they kissed to muffle his moans.

She kissed his forehead, smoothing away the ruffled silver hair. He murmured something that sounded like her name and blinked his eyes half-open. She hummed soothingly to him; the only sound her damaged vocal cords could make any more.

"…love?" he whispered, his eyes sliding shut again. Her arms only tightened around him.

Sleep, my love, she thought. I'll wake you when it's time.

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

The Edge Of The World

Another Title??

Fandom: Enderal

Warnings: None, (spoilers for Enderal)

Characters: Gertrude,  Lexil Merrâyil

Gertrude did her best to explain what had transpired as she and Lexil all but ran through the ancient ruins. It was a long, complicated story, and occasionally she had to backtrack and muddle along as best she could. Lexil asked no questions, but that might have been because he had no spare breath for any. Gertrude had set a killing pace, desperate to reach the surface, desperate that this time, this time, she could do something right and stop this vicious Cycle, or at least, slow it up.

Only now, at the foot of the stairwell did she stop.

"I assumed something was amiss," Lexil panted, bracing himself against a wall for a moment's rest. He was as disheveled as Gertrude had ever seen him. "Neither Sha'Rim nor the Grandmaster even attempted to help me. I'm only lucky I managed to find another way in, or else I never would have found you." His expression shifted, concern is his golden eyes. "And you are-" He groaned, his eyes going wide and one hand going to his face. Gertrude felt a chill trickle down her spine when she saw the silver veins of light he tried to hide, felt a dim, dull burning pain in her head.

No...

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Lexil, are you-?"

"I am... fine," he managed. "My... head feels...as if it is on fire. If this is how it feels down here, then..." he seemed to struggle for a moment, and Gertrude wondered if he was searching for a god or godlike figure she hadn't killed. He gave up. "What about you? Can you feel it?"

"Faintly," Gertrude said, knowing he could see the pain, the dead defeat in her eyes, and not bothering to hide it in her voice. "It's dull. Bearable."

"Then the Black Guardian was right," Lexil said, and the wonder and curiosity that he tried to muffle in his voice almost made Gertrude smile. That was Lexil, all right. "You... your 'Fleshlessness' protects you somewhat. Oh, by Malphas, it just doesn't make any sense... and yet it does."

"It does," Gertrude agreed sadly. "Would that I had time for a personal crisis over it, hmm?"

Lexil blinked, almost visibly coming back to Vyn with a start. "Of course." He stood up straight. "And as to your decision... is it final?"

Gertrude blinked back tears. Everything in his voice, in his eyes, in the way he held his hands behind his back told her that he knew. He knew that her decision was final. Her chin trembled dangerously as she spoke. "I- I cannot just let the High Ones run their roughshod way over humanity. And... besides..." she offered a weak smile. "It's the way I'd want to die. Maybe it's just me being a spiteful old crow, but I need to spoke their Cycle and maybe even send it off the proverbial cliff. After all they've done, after all their damned Cycle has given and taken, they deserve all of it and more. It... It's too late for Enderal, but... the survivors can see our mistakes and learn from them, and maybe... maybe, they can stop the High Ones."

Lexil bowed his head. "I expected no less from you," he said quietly. "I... I should go, then. Qyra is close enough to reach by Myrad, and maybe I... No. I will make the Golden Queen listen to me."

"And I expected no less from you," Gertrude said, still with her sad smile. "Do not forget me, Lexil."

"I never will." There was quiet determination in his voice. Looking at him now, beaten and bruised and still unbroken, even after all that had happened, Gertrude understood why she had fallen in love with him.

And there it was. Right where it had always been, even when she was desperate to ignore the simple fact that yes, she was in love with Lexil Merrâyil. She had pushed it away and refused to acknowledge until now, now when it was all but too late.

"Lexil," she said, her chest uncomfortably tight. "Before... before we part ways, I need to tell you something. Except, I'm... not... great with the words. I need you to know--" A rising sob cut her off. Damn it, I might regret this.

He was so tall she had to tug him down to kiss him properly, but kiss him she did, fighting back tears. It was only when she felt a wetness on her cheeks that she realized were his tears did she let herself go, and let the tears that had been building up for years go free.

This. This almost makes it all worth it.

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

Heyyyyy I wrote a thing for Lexil!!    //-\\

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

A Sunset In Ark

A fic to help fill the depressing lack of Lexil Merrâyil content out there! :D It's sunset in Ark, and a rare moment of piece in what looks to be a long siege by the Nehrimese. Work on the Beacon has reached a dead end, and Minerva will have to leave again in the morning. Lexil Merrâyil makes the most of what little time they have.

Minerva leaned over the parapet, staring down at the city below. Tiny people swarmed around the damage the Nehrimese siege machines had caused, all lending a hand to repair the breaches.

Tiredness dragged at her muscles. It had been early yesterday morning that she had finally managed to finally reach Ark, and she hadn't slept since.

Behind her, the Black Stones thrummed with the almost palpable energy, only barely contained and directed by the peculiar, twisting forms of the Beacon.

Footsteps padded up the steps and across the stones behind her. One leg was being heavily favoured. It must be Lexil then. He had been injured by a lucky strike that had almost hit the Beacon.

"Minerva," Lexil greeted, and she acknowledged him with a simple, silent nod, as was her wont.

Her panpipes dangled loosely from her fingertips as she braced herself on the rough stones of the parapet. Heavy purple bruises lurked under her eyes, ghosts of the sleep she hadn't been getting. Her body slumped under the crippling weight of exhaustion and guilt that she carried.

Lexil's brow furrowed slightly as he joined her at the stone balustrade. He was worried about her, though he'd rather bite off his own tongue than admit it to anyone. He could see the loose, messy bandages wrapped around the wounds she had received from the blades of the Nehrimese, some stained rust-red with dried blood. Her apricot hair was messy and matted with dirt and filth.

He thought about what to say. There was the generic 'Are-you-all-right,' but that was idiotic. Of course she wasn't all right.

"Do you need anything?" he finally asked quietly, slipping a hand over hers. Like everything about the huge woman, it dwarfed him by comparison.

She shrugged slowly, her muscles moving laboriously under the crushing weight of exhaustion. Lexil sighed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know that's not helpful," he told her, with an echo of the jovial teasing they had shared before she had set off for those damned Stones.

The slightest hint of a smile crept into her tired eyes as she nodded slowly. Perhaps it was a labored stab at a jest, but it did make Lexil feel better.

Ruffles trailed from his sleeves, brushing against her bare skin and bandaged forearms. His smaller hand cupped over her larger one in a gesture of the warmth and companionship in a time when she needed it the most. Jespar had spewed venom and glimmercapdust, and then disappeared. Calia had been avoiding her like she was a plague-carrier. And Rynéus' ashes were spread along the shore he had so loved.

Pain pricked her heart at the thought of the boy. He had been an innocent, a child who had reminded her of herself at that age; cast out for something beyond his control. And she... she had all but killed him.

"Stop that," Lexil said gently. His long-fingered, gentle hands turned her toward him, away from the sunset that begged for melancholy contemplations. "You aren't to blame for what happened with Dal'Varek or Skakaresh or Rynéus." He had to tilt his head back to be able to look her in the face. "Minerva," he said calmly. "It's wasn't your fault."

Her eyes said otherwise. What if it was? What if you're lying to save my feelings, just like I almost did for Calia? she thought.

But no. She looked at him, really looked at him. Pale purple was smudged under his eyes, just like it was beneath her own. His face seemed drawn and gray. The once-fastidiously clean suit was splattered with ink and rumpled from the catnaps he had been reduced to catching at his desk. His silvered hair was tangled, his goatee untrimmed.

And yet here he was, trying to comfort her, ease her doubts. He still cared about her, wasn't lashing out because of her failures with what she could have done. Despite the fact that he was just as overworked and tired as she was, and probably in more far more pain, she added, thinking of his leg.

It was a little too much for her tired, traumatized, unsure soul. She didn't think, and caught him up in a tight embrace, trying to push back hot, emotional, shameful tears. If she could speak, she would have thanked him.

He patted her on the back as best he could, muffled in her tight embrace.

Then she let him go, a dark flush dusting her golden features. With marked embarrassment, she turned away, signing the I'm sorry.

"Minerva," he said, catching her shoulder. "I-- Don't be sorry."

She paused, eyes wide like a frightened deer, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned back toward him, her hands twisting together in a time-honoured unconscious gesture of nervousness.

"Minerva," he said gently, almost tenderly as he reached up to touch her cheek. "Don't apologize. You--" he faltered, just for a moment. "You should know that I'll be here for you when you need it."

A smile, albeit a slow, halting one spread over Minerva's face. For a single, wildly hopeful moment, she wanted to kiss him. Instead, she haltingly cupped his face in her hands and leaned down to gently touch her forehead to his.

It was a rare moment of peace for both hectically harried souls. Minerva felt a tiny knot of discomfort and grief loosen. Perhaps not disappear, but loosen.

If I don't do it now, I never will, Minerva realized.

Slowly, half-hesitating, she leaned forward, slightly. When Lexil didn't pull away, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

When she pulled away, she knew her cheeks were burning with preemptive shame. What if--?

Her fearful musings were interrupted when he stood on the very tips of his toes to kiss her back.