#like if you sought her out and calmed her down she’d release whoever from her service along with solas
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turbo-virgins · 13 days ago
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Since Morrigan and the Inquisitor are both present toward the end of the game- like there is literally no way for both of them to not be there in some capacity- we had all the components needed to show some consequences for whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows. And then we just… didn’t do that??
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mythicamagic · 4 years ago
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Sesskag week Day 7: hurt/comfort
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Summery: Decades have passed since the Bone Eater’s well closed. Kagome discovers an injured Sesshoumaru within the shrine grounds one day, having fallen through time into her era. Until the well opens again, he is stuck within modern times, but finds an unlikely bond with the unaging, isolated miko. Oneshot. For Sesskag Week Day 7 - free day. 
Rated T
7,700 words
AN: For the last Sesskag week prompt it was a free day, so I chose Hurt/comfort, with a side order of angst bc that's what I'm about lol sorry for the late entry.
Warning: some grief
(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)
Together Alone
The sun blazed brilliant hues of orange as it ascended the horizon, slowly inching further into a tangerine sky. A figure stepped outside, feeling a slight breeze tease at the ends of her hair. Not for the first time, Kagome gave thanks to whoever had decided to build their home on a hill, blessing them with the ability to see the vast spread of Tokyo city. Flinching as she stepped out of the shade, blue eyes focused, and she blinked, adjusting to the light.
Walking further into the courtyard of the silent Higurashi shrine, she noted an abundance of leaves scattered around the place. Great piles of flame-filled colours had accumulated, spread out like her own personal confetti. Kagome smiled ruefully.
Autumn had arrived.
Having overslept, she took up a broom as an excuse to move stiff muscles. As she swept the stray leaves up, amusement touched her face. The image of a redhead fox leaping into the firey leaves played through her mind. She didn't stop to acknowledge the nostalgic thought.
As she brushed a few leaves with a little too much force into a waiting, bigger pile, Kagome noticed a tuft of something white sticking out of it. At first, she assumed it to be feathers of some sort and poked the broom over the pile slightly. Yet the more leaves she uncovered, the more white she found, until a particularly long strand of it made her pause.
Hair.
Her miko powers flickered like a forgotten lightbulb that had long since fizzled out, briefly awakening. Sensing a presence under the leaves, Kagome's face became unreadable as she crouched down. Beginning to pluck them off, some of the fine silky strands clung to her hands, and her fingers twitched in response. It felt so soft. The thick volume of hair eventually gave way to pale skin. Kagome's eyes widened. A pointed ear lay under the pad of her thumb. Hastily sweeping the remaining locks aside to reveal a demon's delicate features, the priestess stilled, breath catching.
To say he was beautiful was an understatement. Ethereal perhaps. She couldn't suppress the quiver in her fingers, spying magenta markings adorning his cheeks. Her heart thundered, and she swallowed thickly.
"Sesshoumaru."
Viciously suppressing the ache in her chest, she held out hope that he wasn't lying dead on her doorstep.
Shaking his shoulder, she noted the muscle beneath her palm that his slim figure belied. He was dressed exactly as she remembered, albeit a bit more rumpled, armour broken.
"Hey-" she cleared her throat. "Wake up sleeping beauty."
Feeling for a pulse, a steady thrum fluttered under her fingers.
Kagome gave a huge sigh of relief even as his eyes remained closed.
Reaching through the pile and awkwardly sliding her hands under his arms, Kagome was heedless of the falling leaves scattering around them as she started dragging him. Hoping the Daiyoukai wouldn't kill her for touching him without permission, she heaved, returning back inside with her unexpected guest.
----
Stirring a few hours later, a bright cosmos of golden fire burned alive within demonic irises as his eyes snapped open, blinking up at the ceiling.
"Where...?"
Kagome sat in an armchair near the couch he lay upon, reading. She turned when hearing his voice, rising. "You're in my home."
The moment his gaze swung to her, Sesshoumaru jolted upright. He stared in disbelief, raking his attention down her body. "Impossible."
"I didn't die all those years ago, so I'd say it's pretty probable that I can stand here in front of you," she smiled a little, offering him a glass of water that had been waiting on the table.
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened, shifting fractured attention around the room, returning it to her and observing the contours of her face. "Why have you not aged?" he carefully inquired. "Many years have passed. 20, if memory serves."
Kagome's lips thinned and she set the glass down again. "I dunno, something happened with the jewel or the well. I couldn't figure out which, so-" she smiled wryly, spreading her arms out and turning in a circle. "I'm pretty much physically stuck at age 16. Even though I'm actually around 36. I don't know if I'm just not aging or if I'm immortal. It sucks."
He blinked, scenting the air. "...This one is not picking up the smell of death lingering around you as it does with all humans. Immortality can be assumed then."
A complicated expression crossed her face. "O-oh," she murmured, falling quiet.
Raising a brow, the demon ghosted long claws over his face, something slowly occurring to him. "How did this one come to be here?"
Kagome shook herself and scrambled to retain her bravado. "I should be asking you that. Sleeping in a pile of leaves isn't what I expected from the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru. Then again, you always were quite in touch with nature. Going on long walks and stuff," she smiled a little.
"Hn," Sesshoumaru shifted his feet over the edge of the couch, brushing long hair back and stopping to remove a few leaves. "I should be going," he said primly.
"Uh- sorry for interfering but do you even know where you are?"
"Of course I do," he tutted, before hissing and stilling. Pressing a hand to his side, he felt the rough scrape of bandages under his clothing. They were wrapped around his ribs. His face skittered with an unnamed expression, pinning her with a dark look.
Kagome had the grace to seem mildly guilty before her gaze turned flat. "I put your clothes back on after binding your wounds. You're welcome."
"I did not ask for your assistance." His lip lifted, exposing a fang while pressing his palm against his side protectively. Yet he felt no serious wounds, and that the miko had assisted him while he'd been vulnerable was something he had no choice but to acknowledge.
Kagome's hand raised in a placating gesture. "You're on the defensive, I understand that. But don't get crabby," she drew closer. "We were allies in our fight against Naraku. You can still trust me, even if it has been a while."
The passionate, cold glow in his eyes lessened slightly, and Sesshoumaru exhaled. "...This one recalls fighting near the Bone Eater's Well. An enemy struck- and I…" a steel edge threaded his calm voice, obviously frustrated.
Kagome's brows drew together, "you fell down the well," she finished softly, face drawn. "I wonder why it opened to let you through. It's always been closed for me, ever since that day a long time ago."
"Perhaps it is still open?"
The miko looked sceptical and jaded, breathing out and pushing some hair behind her ear.
"I must see-" he stood, eyes widening as his knees buckled. Kagome quickly caught him about the shoulders, pressing against the hard line of his body in order to steady him. Sesshoumaru's nose briefly dipped into soft, dark hair. She smelled of warm home comforts and the stifled tease of holy power brimming under her skin.
It dazed him enough not to realise she'd gently guided him back down to sit. "Stay here, mister. I can't be lugging you about again if you collapse," blue eyes danced. "I'll go take a look. Be back in a flash," Kagome released him and walked from the room.
Sesshoumaru stared, before turning his attention to the structure he found himself in. The house lay near-silent, but he could detect the faint, gravely sound of breathing in another room. A human. Older, weak.
It smiled faintly of feline too, and his keen gaze sought out the thin, discarded hairs of a shedding house-cat littered on the arm of a chair. His nose wrinkled.
Kagome's home also held the strange, buzzing feeling of energy running through its walls like a nervous system. He followed the hum of power down the side of a wall, trailing his eyes over bizarre, thin black rope connecting to a square box in the corner of the room.
"No dice."
He jolted, bristling at being caught unawares. Kagome smiled gently from the threshold, a faint sheen over her eyes.
Sesshoumaru blinked, not picking up the trace of tears. She'd held them back.
"Explain."
"The well is closed again, so looks like you're stuck for the time being," Kagome hummed, tapping her chin. Noticing the alarm flashing in his eyes, she changed her tone to an assuring one. "If it opened once to let you through, I'm confident it'll do it again. You can take the time to heal here in the meantime, no one will harm you. I think I mentioned this to you before but there's no fighting or killing in Tokyo like in your era, so be on your best behaviour during your stay. There's a garden out back, and a small amount of trees bordering it if you want peace and quiet. I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave the shrine though."
"...Very well," he muttered quietly.
Thinking for a moment, the demon decided it bothered him enough to inquire; "who is the aged human in this house? I hear them."
Surprise skittered over her face, soon gentling. "That's my Grandpa. I live here with him alone- ah- aside from Pyon."
Sesshoumaru sneered. "The feline."
Kagome blinked and burst into a delicate laugh- and had it always been so dusty and gentle? For some reason he recalled it being more full of life and childish.
"You'll have to grin and bear it, for the time being at least," she winked. "Want something to eat?"
"I do not consume human food."
Kagome pursed her mouth, and Sesshoumaru fought the incredibly random urge to take her bottom lip between his teeth, quickly shaking himself. "I've got some fresh meats from the market. No seasoning or anything. Will those do?"
"Hn."
---
Due to his demonic blood, Sesshoumaru merely needed to lounge on the couch for a few more hours before feeling his wound tentatively heal.
He listened, hearing shuffling upstairs and Kagome's gentle voice. Sesshoumaru looked over the back of the couch to observe an incredibly aged human move stiffly into view at the top of the stairs. Kagome helped him onto a chair- which then began to slowly descend the steps via a mechanism attached to the wall.
Sesshoumaru stared.
He had never seen such an old man. Usually, mortals died before managing to reach such an age, vulnerable to disease and such. Kagome followed and helped him to the armchair in the living beside Sesshoumaru, smiling at the demon.
"Grandpa, this is-"
"Demon," the old man rasped in an accusing voice, not looking in his direction.
Sesshoumaru arched a brow.
Kagome beamed. "Yes, Grandpa! But his name is Sesshoumaru. Mind your manners."
"Inuyasha can like it or lump it," Grandpa huffed, pressing a small device. The square box suddenly flared to life, making the demon jolt.
Loud noises assaulted his ears, tiny mortals behind the screen doing bizzare things, dressed in costume and talking very animatedly about a- Sesshoumaru squinted- energy drink?
Gentle fingers smoothed over mokomoko. Golden eyes snapped to her touch, noticing the bristling fur she was trying to calm.
"It's just television. This is what people watch for entertainment or if they're bored."
Sesshoumaru made a non-committal noise. He didn't like it.
Kagome smiled at him sympathetically and offered a hand- which the Daiyoukai reluctantly took, pride stinging. He grit sharp teeth while they made their journey through the house, disliking her soothing closeness and the fact that he found her scent appealing.
Eventually, they made it outside, stepping into the lush, rich sunlight and walking through the courtyard that stretched wide. Sesshoumaru glanced around. "The smell of smoke and other fumes are distinct here."
"It's because of the city," Kagome murmured, arm around his waist to hold him steady. He suspected it was a habit she'd gained from looking after Grandpa. The demon did not need her assistance but also neglected to push her away. "That's Tokyo- see. It's what Kaede's village will become."
Golden eyes followed the point of her finger, gazing out at the large, bustling city beyond the shrine. It looked nothing like he'd ever seen before. Their buildings were tall and imposing. He knew the miko to be from the future, but Sesshoumaru hadn't taken much time to envision what it would be like.
"Why do I not sense any demons?" he muttered.
Kagome winced, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know. I haven't sensed them in the city."
"They are likely cloaking themselves from detection then," Sesshoumaru confidently assumed. Anything else was unthinkable.
The miko didn't reply, watching him glance around.
"Hn, this one was going to sleep out here. However, I do not think it would be a peaceful rest."
"If the garden isn't to your liking then I'm not sure what else to recommend. I do have several plants inside my room, they can make the air feel more clear, right? You can sleep there if you want."
"Very well," he uttered, moving to brush past her. A hiss escapes clenched teeth when his ribs blazed to life with pain and he found herself resting against her side for a moment. Kagome's warm hand felt steady on his waist. She didn't breathe a word, assisting him back inside.
---
It was a painstaking process to try and usher the proud demon up the stairs. Kagome had almost suggested taking Grandpa's stairlift before Sesshoumaru's narrowed gaze had swung to her, stifling the words on her tongue.
"Is this is your room?" he asked once they reached it.
"My childhood bedroom to be exact. I sleep in Mama's old room now," Kagome arched a brow, expecting his sharp tongue. "Is it to your liking, my Lord?" she teased.
"It is very… pink."
A smile quirked her lips. "Hopefully the bed is big enough for you. There's a bathroom in the hallway if you want to be experimental and take a shower. There's always a bath too. Do you need anything else?"
"No."
"Alrighty then, goodnight."
Kagome's heel drew back and she turned, moving away. She was rewarded with the soft cadence of his voice.
"...Thank you."
She blinked, wondering why those words made warmth fan into her hollow feeling chest. Glancing over her shoulder, the miko watched with fascination as he settled onto her much too small bed, silver hair tumbling down to the floor. Leaving soon after, a buzzing took flight in her ears that thrummed through her bloodstream.
Tears pricked blue eyes, and Kagome leaned heavily against a wall once she'd reached the privacy of her own bedroom, pressing a hand to her mouth. Unmitigated relief choked fire up her throat, battling with resentment.
She'd worked hard. She'd worked so damn hard to keep the memories of her friends in the feudal era hidden away in a box. To continue living every day in the cold, repetitive present time.
Cramming her feelings away into that neat and tidy box again, Kagome pushed away from the wall to go check on Grandpa for the umpteenth time.
---
Mama had died at the much too early age of 57.
It had been so long since the well had closed. Now at 36, Kagome supposed she should've probably shared her secret with more people, to keep her in a friendship circle of some sort. Souta had moved out, married and had kids. He still visited sometimes but it didn't feel like nearly enough. She supposed her isolation made her needy, though Kagome never voiced it.
Sesshoumaru had gotten antsy waiting around. He'd consumed almost all the reading material in her house already during his stay, soaking in information like a sponge. "I wish to see the city," he uttered, shooting the cat a glare as Pyon brushed against her leg, purring. "Despite the foul smells, if this one is to remain here for a little while longer, I should like to know my surroundings."
Kagome hadn't refused but had given a few conditions. One was that he couldn't go off on his own (lest he be angered and melt a car) and two, that he looked and dressed the part.
Dying her own hair the colour of chestnut in the bathroom, Kagome had offered a bottle of black hair dye for the demon lord. Sesshoumaru, while holding his nose, had flatly refused.
To her surprise then, he'd swept claw-tipped hands through snowy silver locks, the colour bleeding dark black.
"H-how did you do that?" she'd asked, rinsing her hair over the tub.
"It is a simple enough thing to modify one's appearance when you are a strong enough youkai," he'd sniffed.
When she'd finally finished up and wandered downstairs, he flicked his attention over her appearance just as she drank him in. The magenta stripes and crescent moon were missing, claws retracted but nails still sharp. He couldn't hide the pointed ears, so had swept dark hair into a low ponytail so that the thick volume of strands covered them.
Kagome's hair had been cut shorter, now above her shoulders and appearing brunette.
"Would it not be easier for you to wear a wig?" he asked, uncertain why she needed a disguise too.
She blinked as though roused from a dream, cheeks colouring. "Maybe, but it feels easier to step into a different persona like this. Besides, it's been so long since I last wandered around outside the shrine. We tend to get all our stuff delivered here."
Sesshoumaru arched a brow. "How long has it been?"
"I think 5 months?"
He stared but didn't say another word. In accordance with her conditions, Kagome uncovered father's old clothes from the depths of the attic. Mother had kept them in mint condition for years, so she'd refrained from discarding them. Sesshoumaru dressed in the old white shirt, business shoes and suit jacket, finding the latter a little too small.
"Can't you just enlarge your body into it if 'it's simple enough to modify one's appearance?" Kagome teased.
He tossed her a dry look. "Outward appearance. Some things cannot be changed. If I could adjust myself so easily, I'd have re-grown my severed limb much quicker."
She giggled, trying not to eye him in the navy suit. Noticing his struggle with the black-tie, she sighed and drew closer, reaching up and fixing it.
Golden eyes snapped to her face, body stilling as though waiting for something. Kagome flashed a small smile, gently tapping the area beneath his eye. "You'll have to do something about these as well," she murmured.
Pale lashes lowered slightly, animalistic pupils rounding. Gold dulled into earthy brown tones. "Humans are so plain in appearance."
Kagome pinched his side. "Rude," drawing away and grabbing some contacts, she slid brown over her naturally blue eyes.
Sesshoumaru frowned, wandering outside into the stuffy, clogging city air. Perhaps to humans, it didn't smell so intense, but he was Daiyoukai. Superior senses were hard to mute.
Hearing the creak of wheels, he glanced over one shoulder, watching Kagome help Grandpa outside, pushing his wheelchair. "You are bringing him?" he uttered flatly.
Some of her old temper sparked across her face. "I can't leave him alone, and besides, Grandpa could use the fresh air."
"Are the sakura blossoms in bloom yet?" the old man asked listlessly.
She smiled, tucking the blanket over his legs a little neater. "No, Grandpa. We're in September, so it's a little late."
He grumbled in discontentment, becoming quiet as Kagome wheeled him towards the back of the shrine. Beyond the trees was a road that zig-zagged down to houses.
"What are you doing?"
Kagome glanced back at Sesshoumaru, who stood within the courtyard near the stone stairs she'd used to take for walking to school. "I can't wheel Grandpa down those steps. Well- I can, but it'll take a lot longer and I'm- AHH!" she yelped, feeling an arm wrap around her waist and yank so that both feet left the ground. Sesshoumaru then reached down and lifted Granpa's chair above his head with one hand- the old man barely reacting to the elevation.
Sesshoumaru lept into the air, sailing down the shrine steps in a fast descent, dark hair fanning out behind him. Kagome screamed, clutching his side as the demon carried them down like they were nothing more than pizza boxes he needed to deliver.
Touching down at the bottom of the stairs and releasing her, Sesshoumaru set Grandpa down, who hummed.
"Thank ye, Inuyasha."
"I am not Inuyasha."
Panting, Kagome clutched at the floor, whipping her head up to glare at him. "What the hell?! Don't do that without warning! Someone could've seen- Grandpa could've fallen!"
Sesshoumaru snorted. "You act as though this one could make such an error."
Growling, she straightened and started wheeling the old man down the street. Trying to ignore the thrilling flush of her cheeks or the memory of flying through the air on Kirara or Inuyasha's back, she shook herself. Her heart hadn't thundered so fast in years. "Behave yourself or we go home."
Cutting his eyes to the sky, Sesshoumaru followed at a languid pace.
---
Tokyo proved to be ridiculously large. Sesshoumaru had assumed he'd be able to traverse the city on his own if the two mortals slowed him down, but as it was, he feared getting lost within the bowels of technology, noisy arcades and large buildings.
Walking around made him more aware of the ill-fitting suit jacket, though he did not protest. Oddly enough the miko took him to a store and bought a sleek black jacket that was more his size. He'd glanced at the price tag and noticed the card she used to pay, wondering how she supported herself.
Kagome took him to more shops and bought more casual wear for the house, including a grey oversized hoodie that he resolved to burn the second they got back.
Finally sitting down at a table outside a cafe, Sesshoumaru took a few breaths. Smells from many different types of foods flooded his nostrils, along with the deafening sounds of thousands of people moving around in huge clusters. He'd been trying to ignore it for hours. His head spun with the onslaught of new sensations and scents. Too much.
"Hey-" Kagome touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Sesshoumaru eyed her, nostrils flaring. Unfortunately, her usual pleasant scent radiating from her hair had been tarnished by the dye. His attention slid to the material wrapped around her neck.
"Give me your scarf."
"Hm?" She blinked but readily relinquished it, handing it over. "Cold?"
"No," he scoffed, wrapping it around his neck and ducking his nose into the material, inhaling. The scent of gentle citrus and warm home comforts filled his senses, soothing them like a gentle caress.
Kagome's cheeks reddened and she glanced away, helping Grandpa eat his soup.
"Izumi?"
Jolting, she looked up in time with Sesshoumaru, who eyed the young male standing near their table with immediate annoyance. He looked happy and star-struck, no doubt harbouring a crush on the miko.
Kagome forced a smile and stood. "Ryota, hey. How are things?"
"They're good! I'm so happy to see you out and about," he burst. "You should've called me- you know you're welcome to come around any time. Dad wouldn't mind!"
"I'm sure he wouldn't," she smiled delicately, not protesting as Ryota took her hand and squeezed it.
Sesshoumaru bristled and busied himself with sipping his tea.
"Ah um- Ryota, this is my friend, Nao," Kagome introduced Sesshoumaru, who inclined his head. Ryota bowed slightly, eyes darting between them questioningly and finding his attention caught on the pink scarf wrapped snugly around the demon's neck. While Kagome chatted some more, Sesshoumaru dipped his head and inhaled the material again, maintaining eye contact with the male. Ryota looked mildly creeped out, which only made Sesshoumaru preen, thinking he'd successfully intimidated him.
"Kagome, did you get me some green tea?" Grandpa spoke up.
Instead of being suspicious, Ryota merely looked sympathetic as she nudged the tea into his hand and carefully helped him take a sip, arthritis having made his fingers stiff.
"I see your Grandpa hasn't improved," the young man whispered to her, before raising his voice to an obnoxiously loud, patronising level. Or at least Sesshoumaru thought of it that way. "Hello, sir! HOW… ARE… YOU… TODAY?" Ryota patted Grandpa on the shoulder.
He grumbled sourly in response, sipping his tea. It didn't detour the teen, who smiled at Kagome.
"Well, the offer is always open, Izumi. It must be so lonely up in that shrine by yourself."
"I'm really alright. I have Grandpa for company," Kagome gently dismissed.
"Give me a text any time. I gotta get back to class but I'll see you later," he said amiably, hurrying into the passing crowd while checking his watch.
Waving him away, Kagome retook her seat with a sigh, "whew. He's sweet but I feel like saying 'buddy, I'm actually old enough to be your mom'," she giggled, pausing and noticing Sesshoumaru's stare. "What?"
"Nothing."
Feeling the need to explain, she sighed. "I was friends with his father in school. I can't hang around him too much or there's a chance Hojo might show up and likely recognise me. I faked my death years ago because I stopped ageing and have been posing as Souta's daughter ever since. We've arranged it so that I look like I'm homeschooled. This way… I can keep living at the shrine and looking after Grandpa."
"That explains why you do not leave the grounds much," he uttered, reading the menu and flicking his gaze up to her. "You are afraid."
"Wouldn't you be?" Kagome snorted. "People might perform science experiments on me if they knew I wasn't ageing!"
"I do not think that is the reason behind your fear."
She bristled and glanced away, telling him he'd hit the nail on the head. "Who knew you were the type to psychoanalyse," forcing a smile, she giggled and stood. "Drink your tea. I'll go pay for our things," she wandered off.
Sesshoumaru watched her go, halting Grandpa's chair without looking as the old man unknowingly tried to wheel backwards into traffic.
"You should take better care of her, Inuyasha," the old man huffed.
"Hn," his eyes remained on the miko.
---
Several hours later, after they'd seen the sights of the city some more and experienced a train ride, the small group had wandered home and immediately headed to bed. Sesshoumaru appeared within her bedroom not long after.
A dark halo of ebony hair spread out on her pillows, the locks curled in disarray. He noted that she slept very quietly, knees tucked up and hands drawn close to her chest. She looked every bit as beautiful and innocent as he'd figured a young priestess could be, but the shapely line of her legs and outline of certain curves made him certain she'd kept up her physical training long after the need for bows and arrows had died out. A pity her powers had been malnourished.
The bed dipped with his weight as he sat beside her, large claw-tipped hand reaching out- thumb ghosting over her parted lips, hovering over the pulse at her neck.
Kinship with a human felt odd. Yet he couldn't deny the telltale flickers of relatability he'd witnessed. He too, remained the same as others around him grew old. That was the price of keeping company with mortals. She was like him, and yet not. Instead of becoming integrated with humans as he had, she'd shut herself away within the shrine; afraid of the pain of loss. Kagome wore loneliness like a cloak, draping it around her protectively. She was now more like a demon than a human in lifespan, but her heart was not befitting of one. Now she almost resembled a half-demon.
And she needed a pack.
Some sickening, cloying emotion dried up his throat, leaving it parched and scratched. It hurt to swallow. His claws quivered, merely inches from delicate skin, before his fingers clenched and drew away.
Kagome did not stir as he moved off the bed, leaving as silently as he'd appeared.
Unbeknownst to the demon, deep blue eyes slowly drew open.
---
"You have not asked about them," he pointed out a few days later.
Kagome paused in her cleaning, before resuming scrubbing a pot with distracted motions. "I guess not."
Memories rose to the surface like a scuffed knee threatening to bleed but Kagome shook them away. "I'm not ready to know what happened to them yet," she amended, softer. "What about you though, how's your uh… stronghold?"
Sesshoumaru blinked languidly. "What?"
"Your palace?" she tried again, seeing another equally blank look. "Estate?" Groaning when he said nothing, Kagome waved her hands in frustration. "Aren't you a Lord or something?"
"Ah," he finally responded, glancing away dismissively. "You heed Jaken too much. I have no official home."
It was Kagome's turn to stare. "H-hah?"
Sesshoumaru arched a delicate brow as though she were the foolish one for daring to assume a regal demon clad in expensive silks had a shiny castle to return to. "My father was a General, and he claimed territory over the Western Lands, but he did not rule it like a Lord. My mother is more high born than he. She dwells within a castle and has noble blood-"
Kagome's eyes lit up.
"But I have no lands to inherit."
She deflated. "So you're a vagabond."
He brushed some hair over one shoulder. "I prefer to think of it as; no one may house me. I may go where I please."
Kagome eyed him dryly. "You're single, aren't you?"
He bristled. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Figures," Kagome huffed and lifted the pot, walking to the cupboard as she dried it. "You sound like some sort of playboy bachelor with that 'no one can house me' stuff. Honestly, now that I'm paying attention, you really do sound as young as you look. Like you're 19-" she stopped herself from bumping into his chest as he suddenly stood close.
"... I do not take many lovers," he muttered. "But when I do, it is not for 'play.' I assure you I can be quite serious in a relationship." He loomed closer, breath fanning over her cheek. "Do you wish for a sample?" He asked in a silky voice.
Kagome flushed and huffed, elbowing him out of the way to put the pot within a cupboard. What a joker.
----
Wandering downstairs that night, Kagome stopped, noticing something and doing a double-take. Sesshoumaru lay sprawled on the couch, silver hair tumbling down onto the floor as he slept soundlessly. Pyon was curled up on his stomach-and even stranger was the fact that Sesshoumaru's arm curled beneath him, supporting the feline from falling off.
Kagome crept closer, looking at them from over the back of the couch.
She examined his face in the dim light. It was ridiculously, absurdly handsome, closed long lashes hiding golden eyes that could pierce through her shell and pry into her essence. Cheekbones you could cut diamonds with, framed by neatly parted, snowy bangs.
All the magic from Kagome's experiences in the feudal era was now contained in this one man. A demon that most feared and cowered before. She wondered if she wanted him close simply because of nostalgia, or because he brought her joy in his quiet sarcasm and stable presence.
But he'd leave her too, one day.
Kagome's smile bent into a painful curl of her lips.
Sesshoumaru's nostrils flared and he inhaled- before golden eyes slid open. She stiffened and tried to smooth her forlorn expression into something more amiable. "S-sorry, I'm not watching you sleep, I swear!" she babbled. "Was just wondering if you'd checked the Bone Eater's Well for any changes tonight."
"No."
"Ah, gotcha," Kagome floundered. "At least when it does open, your injuries have all healed so you're fine to go."
"Is that what you want?"
She stopped, feeling like she'd been denied an expected step on the stairs and felt her foot plummet through the ground. Reeling, her heart picked up speed. "Of course it is," Kagome said quickly, turning away. "The Fuedal Era is where you belong, silly. You've been a lovely guest. Really, I've enjoyed it. For a vagabond, you fold your clothes neatly and don't make a mess. You read a lot, so it's still pretty quiet, but you also..." her voice became brittle, "you also- play shoji with Grandpa and make great tea. When I do things, I know you're not too far away. It's been nice. I mean that."
Making to walk away, she was halted by a firm hand catching her wrist. Sesshoumaru had sat up now, disturbing the cat and staring at her with unblinking eyes.
"You should come with me."
Her stomach twisted and she shook her head, looking at him with tired eyes. "I can't."
"Nonsense."
"I have Grandpa to look after."
"Your brother could easily-"
"No, he couldn't," Kagome cut in. "Souta has a wife and a big family to support. He gives us money- weren't you wondering how we're kept afloat? I try to help by doing online work but Grandpa isn't someone you can just expect to look after so easily on top of everything else. I couldn't ask or expect Souta to take over just for me to run off and play in the Feudal Era again, abandoning a life I've known for decades now."
White teeth flashed, exposing a sneer in the dim light, his eyes narrow. "Your Grandfather will be dead soon."
Sesshoumaru never regretted anything. He was too strong, too proud, too confident to make a misstep. And yet at that moment, he regretted the words immediately after they were out.
If she were younger, still the spirited girl of 15 he'd known and the person she outwardly resembled- Sesshoumaru wagered she'd have slapped him. Instead, the miko gave him something that felt altogether much worse; a look of disappointment.
As a demon, he never felt like a young pup except within the presence of his mother and ancient elders, but he experienced it again, watching as she slowly padded to the threshold of the doorway.
"Yeah, he will be. And after Grandpa and Souta go, I'm never going to get attached to anyone again. It's too painful. But I'm making the most of the time with him I have left. Besides," Kagome glanced at him tiredly. "From where we sit, won't everyone eventually be dead soon?"
Sesshoumaru's eyes flickered as she left. The image of Rin with her husband and children, all eventually greying and leaving him alone passed through his mind.
It was true, the miko could theoretically return with him to the past. However, what awaited her would be the same. Time's cruelty working it's will on her friends and everyone she'd used to know in the village.
Drawing himself up and absentmindedly grabbing Bakusaiga, Sesshoumaru wandered to the Well House. He stood within its damp structure for a while in silence, not particularly waiting for a response any more, rather trying to gather his scattered thoughts.
The scent of nameless magic stirred in the breeze. He stiffened, lifting his head and scenting the cool air. Silver bangs lifted to sway, silks rustling. With a small hop, he stood on the mouth of the well, gazing into its dark depths.
With just one jump he'd be home.
Sesshoumaru's muscles coiled, heart thundering. Pushing off from the edge, he took the plunge.
----
Stifling the sound of tears in the bathroom by keeping the faucet running and muffling sobs into her hand, Kagome cried. She hadn't done so in a long time. The action felt childish, but a welcome sensation. Pent up stress, loneliness and frustration burst like a dam. She'd felt the whisper of magic. The call back to the Bone Eater's Well. It had been fleeting, gone now, along with any happy feelings that had been elicited because of Sesshoumaru's surprise presence into her life.
"Stupid," she mumbled, splashing her face with water while bending over the sink. "Stupid, stupid- he was always going to leave."
I shouldn't have gotten attached.
But Kagome was a people person at heart. She'd been afraid. So deathly afraid of getting close to someone and having them leave again. Why had she slipped? Because he would live a long time, just like her?
"That doesn't make him beholden to me- stupid, stupid-"
"Enough."
A jolt shuddered through her system, making Kagome whip her head up to blink at the mirror. Sesshoumaru's reflection lingered in the open doorway behind her, crossing the distance between them as she turned. Lithe fingers ceased her chin. "It is admirable, how hard you have tried to appear unruffled and happy, miko," he muttered lowly. "But you cannot fool my superior senses. I have felt you crying out for pack all this time."
Her expression shuddered, crumbling before his very eyes. "Y-you stayed?" she croaked.
"Naturally," a sharp claw brushed over her jaw gently, collecting the evidence of forgotten tears. "Something I have come to understand over the years is that; One does not abandon pack." 
Kagome's breathing hitched, feeling the keen press of a great weight sinking into her chest and rendering her exhausted. Relief. Wilting like a flower, she leaned into his strong frame, burying her face in the warmth of his shoulder. The demon lowered his head slightly, both soaking in the presence and stability of the other for a moment. Her thin shoulders shook, small noises escaping her.
He growled into her hair. "Your idea of remaining unattached does not suit you. Look at yourself, miko. You grew attached to me of all beings," he smirked slightly. "I do not think you can handle remaining separate from people. You love humans too much. And… besides that… I believe it should be you telling me to make the most of the time spent with others, not the other way around. To make bonds, and keep them."
Lifting her head, Kagome brushed the hot trace of tears away and sniffed. "But it hurts," she said in a wobbling tone. "Aren't you scared of outliving Rin and everyone else in the village?"
"I am not afraid. She and her husband have shared many years together, and I will watch over their offspring for generations," he paused, considering. "Though I am...uncertain how I shall process the grief once it comes."
"You're still going back, aren't you?" Kagome murmured.
"Indeed, and you are coming with me."
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Grandpa-"
"We will stay for as long as he lives. After that, you should return home, miko."
Kagome threw him a weary smirk. "And if I refuse?"
"Then, I suppose this one is staying in the Modern Era."
Blue eyes flew wide, fingers curling in his clothes and tightening. She rested her cheek against his shoulder again, letting out a long exhale and calming when his chin rested against the crown of her head.
---
Sesshoumaru did not regret his decision. It was to be just three months before Grandpa passed away in the night. He imagined what would've happened to the miko if he'd left her alone; how she stood together with the other humans at the wake and yet apart. It was the most amount of human's he'd witnessed within the shrine at the same time. Detached via some thin veil, Kagome moved around them like vapour. Cordial and polite, yes, but surface level and unattached. Everyone referred to her as Izumi. No one inquired about her grief.
Souta hugged his sister after the funeral ceremony, and she clung to him. After a little while, however, she lifted her head smiled, letting him go check on his five children.
Sesshoumaru drew close to her side, sweeping his gaze down her black kimono. The colour only brought out the pallor of her skin. He did not speak, but she seemed to read his unspoken question.
"It wasn't as hard as Mama's funeral," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "I think I'd like to get away from all this for a while though. Wanna come for a drive with me?"
He arched an elegant brow. "You know how to?"
"I got my licence when I was still Kagome Higurashi," she stuck out her tongue. "Souta will let me borrow his car. Come on."
After grabbing the keys, they walked through the graveyard where the remains of cremations had been buried. Passing by a Hinako Higurashi whom Sesshoumaru assumed to be the miko's mother, he stopped upon seeing a certain grave.
'Kagome Higurashi'
He stared, unable to identify what he felt looking at the grave.
"Are you coming?" Kagome called from ahead.
Shaking himself, the demon left it alone, but carried those feelings with him even as he walked away.
---
Driving through the city that night, Kagome tightened her hands on the steering wheel. Despite having lived with Grandpa longer than anyone at the funeral, she just couldn't mourn with the family. Instead of talking about it, she glanced at Sesshoumaru and smiled gently.
"I'm ready to hear about them now."
And he told her, detailing how Inuyasha had fallen in love with a woman who passed through the village one day, about four years after the well had closed. She'd been looking for someone to escort her through dangerous territory. She was not miko nor demon Slayer but a competent hunter who seemed to bear a chip on her shoulder. Inuyasha had gravitated to her like a moth to a flame. Upon their return, they'd announced themselves as a couple and married soon after, two sons following.
Kagome listened, expression wistful. The street lights played over her face as they passed by buildings, her eyes a deep blue, mournful yet pleased at the same time. Sesshoumaru went on to talk about Rin's marriage to Kohaku, Shippo's growth and proficiency in magic, Kaede's passing and Miroku and Sango's fourth child.
They sounded happy, and her heart swelled for them.
Pulling the car over to take a detour down a path on the outskirts of the city, she followed the trail up to a hill that overlooked a harbour. Sitting on the hood together and gazing at the stars, her hand found his.
Ageless attention slid to the miko, who kept her doleful gaze on the heavens. "...Life expectancy isn't very high in the feudal era," she murmured quietly.
He knew her unspoken fears. Going back only to lose her mortal friends within a few years of her return no doubt felt daunting.
Long, deadly fingers shifted to close around hers, holding firmly.
"This one will stay with you," he uttered.
Kagome looked at him, hope starting to coax itself alive in her eyes. "R-really?"
"Hn," the demon rumbled, a vow in his voice. "I will be your constant."
Quelling under the seriousness conveyed in his expression, Kagome exhaled. She touched his shoulder, curling her hand there and smiling shyly, daring to believe him. "Even you'll die one day, Killing Perfection."
A velvety, confident chuckle rumbled out of him. "Not for another 2,000 years or so. Perhaps more. Is that sufficient?"
"I guess it'll have to be," Kagome teased, curling into his side and sighing as his large hand splayed over her back. "When you get close to the end..." she said softly, words a whispered, fragile thing. A vow, just as he'd promised for her. "I'll stop there. When you go, I'll go."
Sesshoumaru glanced down at her, tightening his arm and curling a hand into dark, wild hair. The two continued to bask in one another's energies, faint youki and reiki playing across their skin and weaving in a playful, familiar skitter of auras, finally lacing together firmly like clasped fingers.
Months later, Higurashi Shrine would open to the public again, sold by Souta and allowing the structure to be placed under a new family name.
There was no Izumi Higurashi or mysterious 'Nao' walking around the grounds any more. Tree branches swayed, leaves rustling and falling loose to dance around the forgotten well house, which had been boarded up due to disrepair.
The magic within had finally run completely dry; spent on transporting an immortal miko and prideful demon back home.
End
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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago
Text
Canary Mary & the Miners
A/N: Um. I don’t really... know what to... *big sigh* Listen. Here’s the thing. I’ve been having some trouble finding the time and the inspiration to write in the last few weeks. So I decided to turn to some writing prompts in hopes that one of them would spark SOMETHING even if it was just a few paragraphs to shake the rust off. So I came across one that simply said write about a character named Canary. And a few paragraphs turned into a few thousand words pertaining to Ryan Brenner and of course, a new character named Canary. (It also reignited the spark for me to jump back into the world of Passing Through, which is what I am currently working on and I am EXCITED to share what comes next for that story!) This part right here though, actually takes place well before the events in PT. Ryan is roughly 24 years old here. It’s pre- Jackie, pre- losing Cowboy...pre-learning a lot of things, young, still establishing himself as a person Ryan Brenner. (and some cousins for good measure) I truly hope you enjoy. 
Fun fact: Carbondale is home to the first commercial rail line. 
Warning: brief mention of drug use, drinking 
Word count: 4,761
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The first day of any trip home for Ryan was always a busy one. From the minute he’d set foot in Aunt Holly’s kitchen to the second he finally shut his exhausted eyes in the guestroom bed upstairs, the day was always full of tight hugs, loud welcomes, curious questions and more food than any of them could eat. If the weather was right for it, he’d walk down to the beach with whichever of his cousins happened to be around. They’d kill a 6 pack of beer and fill each other in on the stories they’d rather not share with the rest of the family. Once Ryan had come home in the middle of a summer downpour, and the rain, and even more so the lightning, made the trek down to sit in the sand impossible. Instead, Ryan, Jimmy, Taylor and Fitz sat on overturned buckets and bags of mulch in Holly and Alan’s shed, laughing and teasing one another as they dodged drips from the shed’s leaky roof. After supper he’d sit out on the porch with whoever was still awake and alert and play a few songs, the tempo of them slowing as the sky filled with stars. 
The second day was always more calm, all the excitement out of the way. He’d wake up in the guestroom, the mattress slightly too short for his long legs but still far more comfortable than most places he slept while on the road, and turn to the shabby wicker bedside table. Ryan didn’t get much mail, just a few letters and postcards, but reading them was always one of the highlights of his visit. Aunt Holly would save them for him, bundling them up in short stacks tied with blue yarn. Although she would always give them to him almost immediately after he unlaced his boots, he would always tuck them away with his things upstairs, knowing that he’d have more time to read them in the morning. 
On this particular trip, when Aunt Holly had stuffed the bundle into Ryan’s right hand while his left arm curled around Taylor’s shoulders and he ducked out of the way of a spiraling Nerf football that Jimmy had just lobbed from the top of the stairs, he noted that the stack was a little thicker than normal. He smiled to himself, fingers hooking beneath the thick yarn. I sent out a few more’n normal this year too. 
As he’d gotten better as a musician, he’d found more opportunities to meet and play with and learn from other musicians in his travels. Some he never even spoke to, simply set up on the same corner and agreed on song choice without words, with just chords and nods. Others he found himself forming friendships with, realizing that they had more in common than just their musical talents. His first few years on the rails had been spent mostly with Cowboy, Virginia and eventually Georgie. But more recently he found himself traveling solo, wanting to stay longer in some cities, wanting to skip town faster in others. He found himself wanting to stretch his limits and learn more about who he was, not just as a traveller or an artist, but as a person. And he realized that one of the best ways to learn about himself was to interact with as many people as he could as see what he felt, how he responded, who he was drawn to and why. 
What he’d learned leading up to this visit home was that he was someone who craved genuine connection, and sought out others who wanted the same. For every one meaningful connection he made, there were at least twenty interactions with people whom he could tell had forgotten his name before they’d even made it three steps, even after they’d just spent a few minutes chatting, dropping a few singles into his case and telling him that he sounded great. Some people, he knew, just wanted to be liked. They craved acceptance from everyone they met. Ryan learned that he was not one of those people, and he liked that about himself. Only one that’s gotta be okay with me is me. 
But when he found those rare individuals who looked for the seams in things and pulled them apart to peek at what was inside, he held onto them because he knew that those were the people who had the best chance of understanding him and helping him understand himself. Thus began the growth of the non-biological branch of his family tree. Robin and Oz and the rest of the crew he spent his first West Coast summer with, Georgie, Cowboy and Virginia had been the base of that branch, but other chutes were beginning to form now too, resulting in thicker stacks of mail and more reasons to purchase stamps. 
Waking up in the too small bed, he stretched his neck to the right until a small pop released some tension there. A satisfied sigh, the kind that only came from getting a good night’s sleep, slipped from his lungs as he sat up blinking in the dusty morning light. Rising with the sun was a hard habit to break, even when he was staying somewhere that he didn’t need to vacate immediately like he was now, but Ryan didn’t mind. He enjoyed having that time to himself while the rest of the world was still quiet. 
Dragging a hand through his sleep disheveled hair, he glanced over at the bundle of letters and postcards, and once his fingertips had finished fixing the errant strands, they reached out to brush over the frayed ends of the yarn that was cross wrapped around his mail. Blue this time. He smiled to himself wondering if he’d be leaving with a scarf or a hat at the end of the week. It wouldn’t be cold enough for a scarf  for another month or two, but he knew that it was important to Aunt Holly that she send him off with something to keep him warm. It was important to him, too, he’d learned, her scarves warming more than his neck on several solo winter nights. Clearing his gravelly throat, he pulled the covers back and set his feet down on the floor. 
Rifling through his pack, Ryan pulled out his last clean pair of jeans and a dark green long sleeved thermal, a freshly sewn patch on the left elbow courtesy of Virginia. Before making his way down to Georgia he’d spent two weeks with her and Cowboy as they made their way through the Midwest, parting ways outside of Chicago. There were certain things that Ryan always had on his person- twine, sunscreen, his notebook- and with Ginny it was a travel sewing kit. He twisted his arm to look at the patch, a dark brown oval cut from an old corduroy button down that had lost more buttons than it retained, and smiled. He ran his fingers over the stitches that held the patch in place. She’s gettin’ better at this. The nail of his pointer finger snagged on a crooked stitch and he chuckled. Cowboy prob’ly gives her plenty to practice on.
He finished getting dressed and grabbed his hat, bending and folding the brim with one hand before stuffing it into his back pocket. Aunt Holly had a strict no hats in the house rule, and even though he knew she was still asleep, Ryan wouldn’t think of breaking it. She’d knock it clean off my head ‘f she caught me. It wasn’t a guess, he knew from experience. How to pick his battles was another thing he’d been learning lately, and waiting a few extra seconds until he was outside before putting his hat on wasn’t worth causing trouble. 
Picking up the bundle of letters from the side table, Ryan left the spare room, closing the door behind him. The hallway on the second floor was narrow and dark; there were no windows because the hall wrapped around the stairwell, and there were rooms on all four sides. But Ryan had spent enough time in that house to know where to turn without having to see, and in just a few familiar steps he was descending the staircase, socked feet moving quickly and quietly over the creaky steps. He made a quick stop in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot to brew, waiting until he could hear it hissing and clicking as the heat plate warmed up before turning towards the front door. This thing’s older’n I am. Just like shrimp and grits and peach cobbler for supper on the first night of his visits were staples, Ryan would always show his appreciation by making sure that everyone woke to a full pot of dark roast on the second day. 
He didn’t wait for the coffee to brew though. Instead he found his boots in the pile of shoes by the door, digging one out from under a red canvas sneaker that seemed to be missing its mate. Whose is this? Taylor’s? He picked it up by the lace and flung it deeper into the pile. What’d she do with the other one? Sticking the stack of letters under his arm, he tied his laces loosely, shaking his head at the image of Taylor walking home with only one shoe the night before. I bet Jimmy was messin’ with her. Though none of them were as rowdy as they used to be, all of the Brenner cousins had held onto their propensity for mischief when they gathered in groups of two or more. Some things never change. 
Other things did, though. He took the stack back out from under his arm as he straightened up, eyeing it and guessing that it was thicker than the last one by at least five pieces. Passing the pencil marked molding that measured the heights of he and his cousins at various ages, he opened the door and headed out into the bright morning to read his letters. He settled into the angled Adirondack chair, the wood worn smooth after decades of use and abuse, and untied the knotted bow, smiling at the little pop as the yarn let go of the knot. 
Dropping the yarn into his lap he sifted through the pile until he found Robin’s loopy lettering, always in brightly colored ink. He plucked out two letters addressed to him in red and purple respectively, as well as a postcard from Culver City that was so smudged that all he could read was the last line- Oz and I miss you, Brenner. No matter what else she wrote in her letters, whether she was writing to tell him that things had gotten dark for Oz again, or that things were going well for them, she always ended them with that and he could hear her unwritten next line: Get your ass back out here! He was happy to see, after reading as much as he could of the smudged postcard and both letters, that things seemed to be on an upswing for Oz. One of the letters even mentioned that he’d been clean and sober for a year and Ryan beamed. I gotta get out there soon. Maybe this spring, after Montana.  
There was a birthday card from Nikki, the girl he’d gotten his first tattoos from. Happy Birthday, handsome!! Was all it said, with a line of little x’s, her name signed below them, more x’s dotting the two I’s. Ryan felt his lips twitch under his beard as a slight flush climbed over it, and he recalled all the teasing he endured from Georgie when it became clear to the rest of the group that there was something between Ryan and Nikki. Been a while since she saw me. He ran one hand over his scruffy facial hair before lowering it to look at the roughly inked black lines and dots that marked the spaces between his knuckles. Inhaling a slow breath through his nose he could almost smell the woman’s strawberry shampoo as she leaned close, holding his hand in one of hers and her tattoo gun in the other, her chunky silver rings cool against his skin. Wonder what she’d think now. Nothing had ever really happened between the two of them. Nothin’ more than kissin’. 
His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he sighed. She was somethin’ else though. Wonder ‘f she’d… He tapped the card twice against the knuckles of his opposite hand before shuffling it back to the bottom of the pile. Nikki’s not really...neither of us wants to stop movin’ around and… He shook his head. Nikki was a great kisser, that he was sure of. She was vivacious and spontaneous and lived her life in bright colors and never failed to make Ryan laugh when they spoke on the phone. But even through all the physical attraction Ryan knew that there would never be anything serious between them. She’s a good friend… just not a good fit for me. He snorted to himself as the sun rose above the treeline. ‘Nd I’m not a good fit for her. He wasn’t looking for a relationship anymore like he might have been last time he went out West to see Nikki and Louie and the rest of them. But if a relationship found him along the way he knew it would have to be right for it to stick. ‘Nd if it ain’t gonna stick there’s no point.     
There were postcards from Cowboy that said very little, if anything at all other than a quickly scrawled You’d like it here, Brenner, or Good spot for buskin’. It was like a breadcrumb trail of suggestions for when Ryan didn’t know where to go next and wasn’t ready to repeat or circle back up with anyone else. The two of them- three, counting Ginny- had spent enough time together to know what small town charms and quirks would peek the other’s interests, or what tiny details in big cities the other looked for. Le Claire, Iowa. Laramie, Wyoming. Las Vegas, Nevada. Point Pleasant, New Jersey. The images on Cowboy’s postcards were always faded, and Ryan knew it was because the man would always hastily pull the first card he touched from a display in the window of a gas station or convenience store. No one sends postcards anymore so they sit in the sun. A faded river boat. A washed out field of cattle. The strip, sanded down by sun and time spent in a gift store. A ferris wheel, maybe. Doesn’t matter what’s on the front. He made a point to set the cards from Cowboy aside so that he could jot down the cities in the back of his notebook, where he kept a running list, crossing them off after he’d taken his friend’s advice to visit them.
By the time Ryan was down to the last postcard the sun had breached the tree line, brightening the sky and waking up the birds. The quiet morning filled with the chirps of sparrows and warblers, each trying to outdo the other in the complexity of their songs. Somewhere in the trees behind the house a mockingbird stole pieces of each, taking credit for the others’ creativity in order to fit in, and from the gargantuan oak in the front corner of the yard a small cluster of nuthatches erupted squawking from the middle branches. But Ryan hardly noticed the wildlife around him because his mind was on a very different bird, one certainly not native to Georgia. He read the front of the postcard in his hand, vintage linen print in bright colors spelling out Greetings from Carbondale Pennsylvania, a small white mountain laurel blooming beside the state’s Capitol building, and he knew who the card was from before even turning it over. Canary Mary. 
His eyes widened with excitement as he flipped it around, and though he’d never seen her handwriting before, it matched his expectation of her penmanship perfectly. Her letters all stood at a hard slant and the bottoms of her y’s, g’s and j’s curved back around to underline the words they occupied. Ryan always picked up on the ways that a person’s handwriting reflected parts of their personality, and Mary’s rebellious spirit and intensity were visible in the way she pressed her pen to the cardstock. As he read he could even picture her leaning casually in the corner booth at Lyle’s, layers of shawls and sweaters and long necklaces draped around her as she wrote. 
Ryan- 
First off I hope the rails have been good to you. Hope you and Georgie Porgie are lookin’ out for each other, and I hope y’all had a good summer. I hope you got after some of the things you were lookin’ for when you left here- but only some, ‘cause you always gotta have more to go after, remember that. There’s always more. 
Second, just wanted to see if you’n Georgie were interested in swingin’ up this way come October. There’s this music festival ‘round Halloween called Blues’n Boos - don’t hold the name against me, I didn’t make it up!- and I’m thinkin’ of tryin’ to be part of it, but only if you two come and back me up with your strings. I can sing, you know that, but I ain’t never sounded better’n when you boys stumbled into Lyle’s, and those couple’a duets you sang with me? That crowd won’t be ready for Canary Mary & the Miners I’ll tell you that! So I’m crossin’ my fingers you’ll say yes. You got my number, honey. 
-Canary 
Ryan hadn’t felt the smile creeping up his cheeks as he read, but when he finished he realized he was wearing it all the same. Canary Mary & the Miners, huh? He shook his head and laughed under his breath as he turned the card back over. He traced the block letter P with one finger, thinking back to last fall and the week or so he and Georgie had spent in the small coal town of Carbondale. They’d hopped off in hopes of finding somewhere to busk, but the weather had other plans, a heavy, chilly rain soaking them to the bone within minutes and making playing outdoors impossible. Heading towards the first establishment they saw that they didn’t think they’d be turned away from- a dive bar called Lyle’s, the chipped paint on the lit sign above the door beckoning them like a beacon- they carried all of their things inside and were immediately met with the sound of piano keys and Mary’s sultry, smoky voice. Knew we were in the right place then. 
Where ya goin’ baby? And how you gonna get there when I’m gone? 
Tell me where ya goin’ baby? And how you plannin’ to get along? 
I’m not tryin to doubt ya no, no… just thought I’d ask ya for fun. 
Rain water dripped from the ends of his hair beneath his hat, running down the side of his nose as he stared at the woman on stage, completely captivated by her performance. Damn. His mouth dropped open and he let out a breath, turning to his friend. “You hearin’ this Georgie?” 
Despite the fact that the woman was clearly ten or maybe even fifteen years older than they were, Georgie’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered. “Oh yeah, Ry, I’m hearin’ this alright.” Ryan smacked him on the arm with the back of his hand and laughed knowing that even though Georgie was a sucker for a pretty face that could sing, it was more about the voice than the face, and he respected this woman’s talent. 
They had ended up settling in at the end of the bar nearest the small stage, the bartender allowing them to stash their bags behind the bar while they had a few drinks and waited out the rain. They’d listened to three more of the woman’s songs, but it was those first few lyrics that he’d heard that had stuck with Ryan, and not just the words themselves, but the feeling she had put into them when she sang them. 
Where ya goin’ and how you gonna get there? 
It was supposed to be a song about independence and Ryan felt that in the confident yet carefree way she sang, seeming to play with the listeners’ ear as well as their heart and their ego. But he also realized that he didn’t know the answer. Where am I going? If someone asked me… what would I say? He sat there, brow all wrinkled as he contemplated the bubbles in the foam of his beer. Georgie had gone off to the restroom leaving Ryan by himself, but his stool didn’t stay empty for long. 
“That beer got the answers you’re lookin’ for there honey?” Wha-
Ryan looked up in time to see the woman slide into Georgie’s seat, one shoulder shrugging to try to keep her sleeve from falling down it, the other arm waving at the bartender and motioning for a glass of water. She lowered her arm then and turned to face Ryan head on, her wide eyes rimmed with dark liner and fringed with long black lashes. A stud dotting the side of her nose and a small scar cut through her top lip but did nothing to dull her smile. She was beautiful, but not in the most conventional sense. Her beauty came from the way she moved and how she carried herself, how sure she was when she sang and spoke and smiled. I’ve never seen anyone like her… she’s… It wasn’t attraction but awe, Ryan looking at this woman like a moth might look at the light- slightly stunned and not sure if it would burn him or show him the way.
The bartender had appeared with a water, reaching over the bar to hand it to her. She took it, winking at the man and thanking him before drinking a big gulp and wiping a hand across her mouth. Several bracelets and bangles knocked about on her wrist as it fell to her lap, her attention turning back to Ryan. “I take it that’s a no then?” 
“A...no?” Ryan shook his head trying to clear it enough to focus on the moment and the woman who was speaking to him. “Sorry?” 
“Mmm,” she hummed around the glass as she took another sip, her eyes brightening above the rim. “Don’t be.” Ryan blinked and felt himself relax, the furrows in his forehead smoothing back out at her casual manner. “I just meant...guess you’re not findin’ what you’re lookin’ for in that drink. But then again, who really does, huh?” She set her glass down and extended a hand to him. “I’m Mary. ‘Round here I go by Canary Mary.” She gave a playful roll of her eyes, tossing a wave around the place. That makes sense. Voice like that in a town like this. She laughed. “‘Cause if I ain’t singin’, you know somethin’ ain’t right. Ain’t that right, Lyle?” She called the last part out to the kind, balding man who had allowed Ryan and Georgie to tuck their stuffed packs safely away. 
“That’s right darlin’. You’re our songbird alright.” The man called back as he poured two beers from the taps. 
Mary laughed again, eyes returning to Ryan’s as his fingers wrapped around her hand. “And who are you, honey?” 
“‘M Ryan,” he answered, giving her hand a small shake as she squeezed his in return. “You sound...you’re really good up there.” He nodded towards the stage with his chin as she released her grip on his hand. 
“You think so, huh?” She cocked one eyebrow and Ryan tilted his head. Yes. How could you- “Well I s’pose you’d know.” What? She smiled and pointed to the case that was standing up between Ryan’s legs. “Saw you come in with that baby on your back, so I know you know what you’re talkin’ about.” 
Ryan shrugged and looked down at the thick lacquer on the bartop. “Oh I dunno, I just-” 
“Hey that friend a yours you came in with, he play too?” She asked before he could downplay his talent or ability and Ryan nodded. He does. “How’s about you boys come up and play with me? You can be my band for the night.” She lifted one hand up, panning it in front of her as though reading the marquee on a theater. “Canary Mary & the Miners.” She laughed, the sound heavy and sweet like molasses. “C’mon I think it’ll be fun, what’dya say?”
Georgie had come back right at that moment, agreeing for both of them, and he and Ryan had spent the rest of the night crammed up on the small platform, playing a few songs with the woman who was part songbird, part sultry lounge singer and all heart. She’d leaned in to whisper into Ryan’s ear, urging him to join her on a song or two. At first he’d been hesitant because the only female singers he’d ever done duets with were Robin and Virginia, and he knew both of them well enough to know what they were feeling when they sand, how to match them. But Mary had put that hesitation to sleep with her next words. 
“Trust me, honey, what you were lookin’ for in that beer? You got a better chance of findin’ it in a song. So you wanna sing with me?” 
He had, and it had somehow felt...easy. As the night wore on and the number of patrons dwindled, Mary, Ryan and Georgie found themselves closing down Lyle’s, the three of them sitting in the only three stools that hadn’t been overturned and lifted up onto the bar. Lyle swept the floor, music playing softly from an old but still functioning radio, allowing them to finish their last round as he cleaned up. They’d gotten to talking, Mary sharing a little about herself and how she left home to pursue a life of music and whatever came with it, and Ryan had asked her if she ever worried that she’d made the wrong choice, or that she’d ended up in the wrong place. Is that… am I worried about that? I didn’t think I was but… 
“Only thing I ever ask myself, Ryan, is if I’m good with who I am in the moment. Only person that’s gotta be good with you is you, honey. If I’m good with where I am and where I’m goin? Then I know I didn’t make the wrong choice.” 
Where am I going, and how am I gonna get there? He tapped the card against his knuckle again, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He could smell the nutty aroma of the coffee he’d made, could hear the sound of his family waking up and shuffling towards the kitchen for a cup. Smiling as he let the breath back out in a sigh, he plucked the yarn from his lap and re-wrapped the bundle of cards and letters. I’m good with who I am… lot of it thanks to her. Canary Mary had taught Ryan more than he thought she knew at first, but as time went on and he thought back on the interaction, he wondered if maybe she knew all along that he needed some guidance, needed to be shown the way or at least pointed towards the light.  Either way, he knew his answer. 
It’s too early to call Georgie. Ryan squinted at the sun as he rose from the chair and stretched, his shirt lifting up to expose a thin strip of his belly, the morning air a cool shock on his skin. 
“Ry’n, you want milk’n your coffee’r no?” Huh. Guess Taylor didn’t go home last night. Must’ve slept in the living room. Her accent was always thickest in the morning when she wasn’t quite awake, like it was now as she called out the screen door. 
He turned away from the sun and back towards the house, tucking the bundle of cards under his arm and whipping the hat off his head. “Yeah, just a drop though. ‘M comin’ in now I can…” 
It was too early to call Georgie now, but Ryan knew that as soon as it was late enough to guarantee the other man would answer, he’d be calling his friend to make travel plans for Carbondale in October.
.
.
.
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peachdoxie · 4 years ago
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This post contains my liveblogged thoughts about the prologue and first chapter of Rhythm of War that was released on Tor today. Spoilers, obviously.
Rip Navani
Minor Aesudan lore, yay
Boxes of spren? What the fuck?
Angerspren, like boiling blood, began to well up in a small pool at her feet. Calm, Navani, the rational side of her mind said.
What’s that theory that Navani is gonna be a Dustbringer because she finds order in chaos or something?
I wonder if the border dispute and misdrawn maps are relevant as anything other than a source of conflict.
Today, she’d do her job—though a part of her felt like an impostor. However prestigious her ancient lineage might be, her anxiety whispered that she was really just a backwater country girl wearing someone else’s clothing.
Inch resting....
‘“…Being able to bring them back and forth from Braize doesn’t mean anything,” one said. “It’s too close to be a relevant distance.”
“It was impossible only a few short years ago,” said a deep, powerful voice. Gavilar. “This is proof. The Connection is not severed, and the box allows for travel. Not yet as far as you’d like, but we must start the journey somewhere.”
A box again. I’m guessing this is one of the “boxes of spren” from earlier, though why Kris would tell Aesudan is beyond me. And we know Gavilar captured a Voidspren, so I’m guessing that “them” refers to Voidspren, which were trapped on Braize. But what the fuck? Braize is “too close to be a relevant distance,” if I’m reading the antecedent correctly. Where the fuck are they trying to go???
The king was speaking with two men that Navani vaguely recognized. A tall Makabaki man with a birthmark on his cheek and a shorter Vorin man with a round face and a small nose.
So Gavilar was meeting with Nale and whoever the other guy is. Which means that Nale knew about the Voidspren, yet was killing nascent Surgebinders anyway?
The Vorin man wrung his hands, reminding Navani of the palace steward, though this man seemed much younger. Somewhere… in his twenties? Maybe his thirties? No, he could be older.
Interesting. Navani is having difficulty placing this man. We’ve seen this with I think both Vasher and Vivenna on Roshar, where people aren’t sure exactly how old they are. I am not sure what to make of this.
Plus, you need to know that another of us is here tonight. I spotted her handiwork earlier.
Hmm. “Of us” makes me think that he means of him and Nale, which means he’s a Herald. Has this been established yet? I can’t remember. And I’m betting the woman is Shalash.
“I want out. This is the only way…”
Okay, so this guy who is probably a Herald thinks that whatever Gavilar is doing is the only way out of being a Herald, I’m guessing? I am starting to think that maybe my theory that Taln was murdered (not that he gave in) has some more merit...
“I believe I have managed to soothe Amaram’s pride. He might take [Jasnah] back, and her time is running out.”
HA HA GET FUCKED AMARAM
Also, Gavilar’s a fucking asshole to Navani. No wonder she was fine with marrying Dalinar. He’s an absolute sweetheart compared to Gavilar, even as a drunk.
“I have discovered the entrance to the realm of gods and legends, and once I join them, my kingdom will never end.”
Cool so we’ve got what, megalomania? And “the realm of gods and legends” well that fucking narrows it down. Is he referring to Braize? The Cognitive Realm? The Spiritual Realm? What he thinks are the Tranquilline Halls?
What was she doing? Praying for her husband’s death?
Holy fucking shit. Navani sure got what she wished for. I bet that’s gonna eat at her.
Anyway, on to Chapter 1. We’ve got the five narrators listed. Kaladin (thank goodness), Shallan, Navani, Venli, and Lirin. An interesting mix. This narrows down the main narrator to be either Navani or Lirin. I guessed maybe Navani, but Lirin was never on my list. Darn. I guess this means I’ve lost the bet with myself that Lopen is the main narrator. Ah well. Ngl though, I am very intrigued to read from Lirin’s POV, especially when he interacts with Kaladin. He’ll be the first person we’ve read from who knew Kaladin before he went off to war.
Also, probably won’t liveblog this chapter much, since I’ve already read it.
Lirin sensed a search for identity in the way Abiajan and the other parshmen acted. Their accents, their dress, their mannerisms—they were all distinctly Alethi. But they grew transfixed whenever the Fused spoke of their ancestors, and they sought ways to emulate those long-dead parshmen.
I have the feeling this is going to be vital to Venli’s storyline. The singers only hold loyalty to the Fused, but I don’t know how far that will go. And we know that Venli began to tell of the listeners at the end of Oathbringer - which is probably a closer identity to theirs than the ancient Fused, who are still probably reliving their glory days (the sane ones, at least).
Ah man. I can’t wait for the next chapter to find out what happens.
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coffee-and-wolfsbane · 6 years ago
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a bonded pair
Kyoko flipped through the written requests she had received during the day, sorting the notes into two piles: Night and Day. Some spells required a specific level of sunlight, others preferred the cover of darkness to work. When she got to the last one, she had to bite back a curse.
Perform a cleansing ritual on the Lazaret. Payment of 400 Vesuvian coins will be delivered to your premises tomorrow morn. was written in too-perfect handwriting. Her first instinct was to throw the paper into the fire. There were a few citizens that believed the island haunted and needed exorcised, but Kyoko wasn’t one of them. A cleansing ritual would do nothing but waste sage and her nice candles. But 400 coins could replace the damaged roof tiles, and leave enough left over to start on the project she had been yearning to try. Sighing in defeat, Kyoko stood and stretched. It was only sunset. She could reach the island by dark.
A few hours later, Kyoko had to rely on the dim light of the stars and her weak summoned flame to maneuver around the abandoned piers of Lazaret. She’d find the abandoned temple, perform a little spell, then back to her shop. The island had a faint scent of molding flowers and burnt flesh, the combination making Kyoko shudder. She hurried towards the center of the island, pointedly ignoring the feeling of eyes glued to her every move. The temple was hastily built for the plague victims to pray in, vines and overgrowth breaking through the stone walls.
Kyoko set her bag down and started lighting the four candles she brought with her, setting them down at the cardinal points. As she set down the last one, the flame vanished, and a pair of glowing red eyes stared at her from a few feet away. She jerked back in shock, a defensive spell on her lips, but before she could speak a crushing blow landed on the back of her head, and she fell to the ground.
The smell of rot and decay woke Kyoko up. Her eyes refused to focus as her head screamed in pain. She could taste blood on her tongue and down the back of her throat. Every time she moved, pain lit up like fireworks.
But she wasn’t moving herself. She was being dragged.
Whoever knocked her unconscious had a death grip on her ankles, and was steadily pulling her away from the temple where her bag was. Kyoko twisted her legs in a quick snap, breaking the person’s hold on her, and she was scrambling backwards, fear and adrenaline fueling her as she summoned a ball of light to get a look at her assailant.
“What the fuck is that,” Kyoko whispered to herself. It was humanoid, walking on two legs, but the body was hunched over, its arms too long to be proportionate, its hands too large and fingertips that were claws, its colorless eyes too far apart in a face with lips that were too thin and teeth that were rows of jagged spikes. Long, stringy hair fell from its scalp in patches down to the ground, and rotting clothes barely covered its form. Even in the dim light of the waxing moon, the thing’s skin was a sickly mixture of grey and green.
The thing started to circle her, moving in jerky, twitching steps as it hissed at her. Kyoko watched with sick, detatched fascination as the thing’s mouth opened wider, and a tongue that had to be at least five feet long slither out, testing the air like a serpent. That tongue lashed out, faster than a whip, and Kyoko barely had time to dart out of the way. She felt a burning pain where the creature’s tongue had caught her on the shoulder, then a worrying numbness.
“Tell me this is a joke,” Kyoko panted. “You’re venomous?” She rolled her shoulder, trying to get sensation back, but failed.
The creature let out an ear-splitting shriek and charged at Kyoko, that tongue aiming to wrap around her throat. Kyoko tried to spin out of range, but when she felt that burning pain on the back of her calf, she couldn’t help but swear angrily. She released a surge of ice, forming it into a spear-like shaft, and sent it hurling towards the thing’s torso.
Her aim was off; the venom was taking effect quickly. The ice caught the creature in the side of the face, but speared through the dangerous tongue, ripping it in half. The thing threw itself on the ground, howling, and Kyoko raised her arm to attack again.
Before she could get another shot in, a black mass landed in front of her, positioned between her and the thing. Her injured leg couldn’t support her weight evenly anymore, and she staggered, struggling to keep her balance. Whatever this new fighter was, it looked like it was made out of the shadows, and it was shaped like a huge black dog. She dimly recognized the glowing red eyes as it turned to peer back at her, and she saw recent wounds on its muzzle and throat.
Black dots began to color Kyoko’s vision, so she saw only blurs of red and the creature’s greenish skin as the shadow engaged. Low snarls and high-pitched screeches echoed around the Lazaret, and Kyoko knew the battle was over when she heard the wet crunching of bones being split open and torn apart. She collapsed, her legs finally giving out, and she waited for the victor to approach her.
Red eyes regarded her wearily, and the shadow slumped next to her. Kyoko reached out a hand to touch the dog’s side, and she felt the dampness of blood.
“Thank you for saving me,” Kyoko tried to say. It felt like her throat was closing, and it got harder and harder to breathe. The shadow huffed a breath, its head seeking out her hands. “At least I’m not alone,” she mused. She ran her fingers over the soft ears. As her heart did a weird hiccup, like it wasn’t working right, she thought of her shop.
Kyoko’s breath slammed into her as she shot out of bed, a scream lodged in her throat. She stood in the middle of her small bedroom, gasping for air, her body coiled to fight as she tried to get her bearings. She was back at her store, upstairs. She saw her bag, still full of the purification spell ingredients, on the bed next to where she had been sleeping. “A nightmare,” Kyoko gasped. “It was only a nightmare.” She sank back onto the mattress and tried to stop her hands from shaking. After a few breathing exercises to control the panic she had woke up with, she went downstairs to make something that would help calm her.
In the comfort of her kitchen, she started to boil water. Something moved just beyond her field of vision, and she almost dropped the kettle when she spotted the large, dog-shaped shadow that was hiding underneath her table. Kyoko froze as the ruby eyes met hers, and she just stared.
Master?
The thought went through her head, but didn’t come from her. Kyoko eyed the beast with hesitation. “Are you...was that you?”
Master.
Kyoko licked her lips nervously. She offered her hand out to the beast, and it slowly left its position from under the table to approach her, pushing its muzzle into her palm. Its flowing tail wrapped around her in a protective gesture.
“What’s your name?” Kyoko asked.
No name. I’m YOUR familiar. Its eyes closed in contentment as her hands sought out the wounds she had watched it suffer the night before. When she found none, her relief was adamant. A familiar...Asra had Faust, but she doubt that the bonded pair had met the way she met hers. She couldn’t remember much about what happened after her familiar had killed that monster. She got the sense that something else had whispered the spell into her ear, but she couldn’t place what.
“Hmm.” Kyoko peered at him for a few moments, running her hands down his lupine body. “Regis. Your name will be Regis.”
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tcrmommabear · 7 years ago
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Merry Christmas Athens!
Merry Christmas @letterstoathens!
For your Secret Santa gift, I chose the Reincarnation prompt. It came out really strange? So, to offer an explanation- cats have nine lives. They have a sorta reincarnation/regeneration type deal going on.
And when you save a cat, even if they die/regenerate later, they still owe you a debt.
And well, poor Haru loves saving cats.
I hope you enjoy this! It was a bit difficult to write, but hey, it’s done! Enjoy!
The clash of swords was unmistakable. It was followed by thumps against the floor, high pitched whines of absolute agony, and the constant, forward march. She had been shoved under the table during the ensuing chaos, rough paws and unrestrained claws digging into her flesh insistently. She was their prize, after all. The steps continued, filling the marble dance hall with clicks.
She couldn’t stop trembling.
___
“Haru, stop doing that!”
She paused, still halfway bent over from when she released the cat from her arms. It hadn’t paused at the sound of Hiromi’s voice, choosing instead to look at Haru with big eyes, then scurrying off into the alleyway. Haru hadn’t minded, poor thing had the fright of its life falling into the river. Her clothes sought to remind her she was still soaking wet. And likely facing a furious Hiromi.
“Stop doing what?” she inquired, finally finding it in herself to stand fully upright. She saw Hiromi had her gym bag on her, and preferring not to think of how old the towel inside likely was, started reaching for it. The smaller woman took a couple steps back, holding the bag further out of reach.
“Saving cats! Don’t you know what happens when a cat owes you a debt?!”
She paused in her step, letting the words soak in. Legends and superstitions were something she’d never really paid much attention to. Skepticism was her answer to everything. Well, skepticism with a healthy dose of caution. Hiromi, not receiving an immediate answer, sighed and shook her head. Her hands found her hips, though a smirk betrayed her slight amusement at her friend’s antics.
___
Her breath was bordering on ragged. She felt she could slit the air with a nail, tension and panic carved free and stuck solidly in her chest. Frying pan to fire, devil to his father, tiger to bear. None of her original captors had come back for her yet, leaving her buried in the layers of her stupid dress.
Whoever had braved the guards and militia of this castle was… Brave. Strong. And hopelessly reckless.
And very, very determined to get to her.
It set a hollow feeling in her stomach. The steps continued, no other sound besides the frantic pounding in her heart, her ragged intakes of breath, and the way her mind practically screamed hopes, prayers, and wishes. Whoever they were, they were coming around the counter now.
___
“When you save a cat, they owe you a debt, Haru. They usually pay you back with gold, or good luck, or… Something.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Well, cats have nine lives, dummy.”
“So, nine lives of good luck…?”
“Well, I guess. But if you save a cat in eight separate lives, then…”
___
Boots.
It wasn’t a cat.
None of the cats wore shoes, leaving their feet bare. The sound of heels clicking had already been explained away, but she was just… So surprised. Something unmistakably human in this world, coming after her.
___
“… Hiromi that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s true! My cousin June told me that herself!”
“Was this the same cousin June that claimed eating raw fish eyes could make you a mermaid?”
“Whatever, Haru! At least I’ll know what happened when you go missing.”
___
“I know you’re down there, Miss.”
She almost blubbered at the sound of a voice. Masculine in nature, deep, and with an accent she hadn’t heard before. Not from the cats, or any people she knew. Hiromi popped briefly in her head, heart eyes and drooling out “dreamy”. She could have laughed, if she still wasn’t absolutely terrified.
“Let me help you out. I’m not here to hurt you. Only to… Repay a favor.”
She hadn’t time to question it, really. Who was human enough for her to have saved, but a hand was in front of her, white gloves and a black shirt that almost seemed pirate-esque. Her world was spinning on tilt, and it seemed like as good a lifeline as any. They tugged her out and up, not minding the way she clung. She moved up, from the hand, to the shoulder, to the face that saved her…
___
The cats had practically mauled her.
Between singing her praises and the claws sinking into her shoulders and calves, she’d almost believe none of this was happening. She was being forced from her home, from a lovely dinner with her mother and best friend, to be…
Hiromi’s words stuck at the back of her throat, the warning she’d tried to provide her friend. Saving cats was a good deed, but no one wanted that kind of debt.
They told her she’d saved their prince in eight separate lives. Their king in seven of his, and many subjects five or six times. That was a large debt they’d all racked up, and they weren’t sure how they wanted to repay her.
Apparently in bloody scratches that stained the dress they forced in her. Apparently in terror and fear, and a missing Prince who couldn’t speak for or against all of this.
In a banquet that got interrupted by a single adversary storming the castle.
In a cat in man’s clothing standing before her.
___
She screamed.
___
She screamed until there was no air left in her, until her lungs felt bloodied and bruised, yet still she heaved through the pain.
The cat covered her mouth the second she opened it, barely a few shrieks slipping past the gloved hand. He looked apologetic, but not enough to truly apologize for his appearance. After all, what reaction was he truly expecting from her? A hug and a kiss on the cheek?
“I’m sorry, Miss Haru, I truly should have warned you. I am here to help, I promise. I’m here to take you home.”
She was still somewhat screaming, beneath the hand and glove, but she nodded, nodded, nodded, until it looked like her head would nod right off. Anyone was better than those cats, the ones who ripped and dragged and paraded her. She calmed the longer she nodded, until finally she wasn’t frantic enough to keep going. She looked at the cat, longer and more deeply than she ever had.
The arm around her waist tightened, then disappeared all at once. Shouting was heard at the edges of her perception, the King and guards and all militia coming to put their princess back together again. Too bad they were the ones that broke her.
The cat removed his hand, touched her cheek, tried to bring her back to the moment in this world.
“We have to go, Miss Haru. Follow me!”
___
It was another fight free, another storm tearing through the castle. She hid in crooks and cranies, behind the swish of his cape as he sank tooth and nail and blade through the kingdom for her freedom. They were so close, so absolutely bloody close to freedom.
“Just a bit more, Miss Haru!”
And she was exhausted.
___
Hands on her cheeks, a voice by her ear. Desperate, digging through the molasses thick exhaustion and fear. He wanted her to move, to think, to breathe. He didn’t look behind him.
She always had a fondness for cats.
Orange tabbies with bright green eyes.
Hiromi’s words stuck on her tongue.
___
“They say if you save a cat in eight separate lives, the cat will steal you away.”
“And do what?”
­­___
She roared to life beneath his hands.
Green eyed tabbies, falling into the water.
Green eyed tabbies, jumping from her arms.
Green furred calicos moving to hurt her green eyed tabby.
The guard didn’t stand a chance against her.
___
“They’ll marry you.”
___
His hand on her shoulder, his voice by her ear.
Exasperated, surprised, disbelieving.
“You… You saved me…”
“You almost drowned… That’s twice now I’ve had to save you, kitty.”
“I don’t believe it…”
He was angry. He gripped her wrist tight, tugged her through the doors, and into a carriage. Out and away and towards her home. Her body ached, and his grip never loosened from the steel trap around her wrist.
“What’s wrong? I saved your life.”
He looked frazzled.
“Miss Haru… This is my eighth life.”
Oh.
“At least the children will have pretty eyes.”
And the world turned black.
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tesleinarose · 7 years ago
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Dreams of times long past (part1)
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Fire. The horse and cart was burning, struck by the fire arrows that had been launched by the bandits that had ambushed the caravan. The cries of the wounded and dying ripped through the night sky, as well as the screams of a little girl who could not find her parents in the resulting chaos. The scent of blood filled the air, the caravan guards fighting for their lives and the lives of the people under their charge and failing as bandits cut them down and the civilians. 
The little girl continued to scream for mama and papa, clutching a small doll to her as she wandered through the hell of the ruined caravan, stumbling forward in the hopes that her mama or papa had been spared the fate of so many of their friends. Then, out of the smoke of the ruins ran an older Dwarven woman, her hair swirling around her as she took the little girl by her hand. “Come,little one, we must away,” she said quietly, the familiar lilt betraying the panic in her voice. “Yer father will join us soon.” The woman led the little girl away from the ruined caravan, heading into the woods. The sound of rough laughter reached the girl’s ears and then a cry of someone yelling. “Two are escaping! AFTER THEM!” 
What were two Dwarves to do against bandits who were astride horses? The two ran as fast as they could, but to no avail. The bandits ran them down, knocking the woman down a hill, sending to little girl crashing with her as they both tumbled to the base of it. The woman stopped short, but the little girl fell into the small river that ran at the bottom. The woman scrambled to her feet and caught the little girl by her arm before she was swept away. 
“Hold on, Tesleina,” the woman cried, trying to drag the girl back onto the shore, just as the shadows of two men appeared above her. Tesleina clutched at her mother’s hand as one of the men told the other to kill them. The woman heard the man and prepared to release her hand as the blade swung down and sliced through the girl’s arm. Her eyes widened and she screamed as she was swept down the river, her mother still clutching her amputated arm as the man who’d hurt her thrust his blade into the older Dwarf’s back. Slowly, black took her world as she was swept down the river to a fate unknown. 
The singing of birds echoed through her window, forcing the young Dwarven woman to blink her eyes open, chasing the last dregs of sleep from her mind and forcing her from her dreams. She sat up slowly, the silky camisole she’d worn to bed shifting slightly as one arm lifted in a stretch, the familiar pang of the ghost of her limb in the back of her mind allowing her to acknowledge once again that where two limbs should be, one remained. In the missing limb’s place rested a mechanical apparatus grafted to the side of her torso and over her shoulder, with an empty socket. 
“Kaelynn,” she called. A human woman in a maid’s dress poked her head in at her mistress’ call. “Yes, m’lady?” 
“Would you be a dear and draw a bath? I will need your help getting ready for the day as well.” 
“Of course, m’lady.” The woman moved off to draw her bath as she climbed out of bed and walked to the mirror, looking at her reflection silently a moment. It had been awhile since she had dreamed of what had happened that day, and she could still feel the sword slicing through her flesh as it was yesterday. She turned away from the mirror and struggled out of her camisole with one hand before she strode naked to the bathroom where Kaelynn had drawn her bath. The maid helped her into the tub then left her to her privacy as Tes bathed. She rested against the back of the tub, doing her best to keep the mechanical apparatus out of the water as much as possible as she soaked. As he did so, her mind wandered back into the past once again. 
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The river had carried her someways, always threatening to be the end of her as she traveled someways. By luck, she survived the journey, though death was still near. She’d lost so much blood that it was a miracle that she’d even survived this long. As she washed up upon the shore of the river, she stared up at the night sky, unseeing, feeling a numbness where her arm had been. She knew that she was going to die here. Someone would find her bones, the little girl thought. It had made her sad. 
Then she heard voices, feminine laughter and a male’s japes. She tried to cry out for help, but no sound emerged. She could only pray to the Light that whoever was out there would find some help. A rustling to her right caused her to look in that direction, and out of the brush walked a foot solder. She panicked, seeing the sword on his belt, a whine erupting from her throat and drawing the man’s eyes to her. “By the Light.....milord! There is a child here! She’s hurt! Come quick!” Another man joined the first, this one dressed for a day of riding. “Good Lord. Caryn! We need your help!” A woman, dressed in riding skirts, stepped breathlessly out of the brush as well and immediately moved to the little girl. “Who would do this to a child?!” 
Bewildered, the girl stared up at the woman as she knelt next to her, and for some odd reason the girl felt safe. The woman brushed her hand through the girl’s hair before she whispered softly and a gold glow enveloped the young girl. She felt the sickness that had threatened to kill her leave her body, though she was still very weak. The woman named Caryn called for the foot soldier to retrieve a bag from her saddle, who returned it quickly. Opening the bag, the woman drew out several bandages and tonics and cleaned the girl’s wound and bandaged her up. “What is your name, little one,” the woman asked. “Where are your parents?” 
“Tesleina,” she whispered in a cold, dead, voice. “And my parents are dead.” The humans exchanged a glance, before Caryn brushed her hair and the girl felt her eyes grow heavy. 
Tesleina opened her eyes, feeling her skin start to prune as the heat of the bath had long since cooled. She managed to get herself out of the tub as Kaelynn returned to wrap her in a towel and help dry her off. “Thank you, my dear,” Tes said gratefully. “I’ll need the porcelain arm today.” 
“Of course, m’lady.” Tes moved to her bedroom again and laid on the bed as the maid returned with the porcelain-plated arm. Tes mentally prepared herself as the woman lined the arm up with the socket. Slowly, she inserted it into the apparatus that covered her shoulder and torso. Tesleina grimaced as pain shot out from her side as her nervous system engaged the mechanical limb. Slowly, her artificial fingers started to twitch, then began to move with her thoughts. She ran her arm through the diagnostics and smiled. “Much better.” Slowly, she stood and let Kaelynn help her into her corset and skirts. She sat before her mirror and let the maid brush her hair as again her mind wandered to the past. 
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“Eryk, are you sure this is the right decision,” Lady Caryn asked uncertainly. She was watching the gnome tinkerer prepare for the operation on Tes with all the trepidation of a mother. She and Eryk had fallen in love with the little dwarf girl, had taken her into their home and raised her as their own. The sight of her little daughter on the surgery table clutched at her heart. Eryk did not seem any better off, but his voice was calm as he spoke. “Gearspark is the top of his field, and he knows what he’s doing. Besides, Tes wanted this.....we can’t deny her the chance to have a normal life.” 
Tes, for her part, remained completely still on the table. It had been a few years since Lord Eryk and Lady Caryn had brought her home and raised her as their own. They had done their best to try and give her a normal life, (though how normal a life could it be a Dwarf raised in a human noble household). They had even sought someone to replace the arm stolen from her as a child. She waited on the operating table with both trepidation and excitement. She owed them everything, and had high plans to make them proud when she grew up. 
The gnome brought the necessary equipment to the operating table and smiled down at the girl from his stool. “Now Lady Tesleina, I am going to install some equipment on your shoulder. It may pinch and sting some, but in the end, you’ll be as good as new. Ready to begin?” 
She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Gearspark, I’m ready.” She remained still as the gnome began to work, and she did her best to not scream. 
Tes turned her head slightly as the maid finished brushing her hair. “That will be all for the day, my dear. I would not expect to wait up for me, I will be gone for the rest of the day and likely won’t return before tomorrow evening.” The maid bowed politely and left her alone. Slowly, she reached and lifted her skirts, stepping into her boots before she moved towards the hangar attached to her manor. Inside the hanger rested The Wild Rose, her pride and joy, and the tool she would use to seek her revenge on those that had taken her parents and her arm. “Prepare the Rose for takeoff, gentlemen,” she called to her crew. “Oh, and prepare a pot of tea. I will be having guests before we head to our destination.” Seventeen years since that fateful day, and she still had afternoon tea with her parents once a week. Such was the life of Tesleina Rose. 
@themiddlemen
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