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britcision · 2 months

Text

I LIVE

Which. Is ironic. Considering our topic today 😅

I did say I was gonna do more with our actual main characters in the show eventually, so here’s a little bit of that 😁

I’m just saying, with Marcille’s track record it’s fucking bold of her to assume she’ll make it to 1000

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After Dinner Mints - Lifespans

Marcille thought she was handling everything pretty well, considering. She’d been within spitting distance of achieving her life’s dream. She’d finally learned the truth about ancient magic.

She’d nearly killed everyone in the world, or trapped them in an endless prison where they could never move or feel again.

In the end, she’d made the choice to abandon her dream and stop the demon. If she was honest with herself, it had less to do with the way the demon had been manipulating her or honestly anything it had done at all; it was a lot more to do with the journey she’d been on with her friends. With Senshi.

Because at the beginning, sure, she’d been worried about fighting the dragon, but she’d never doubted they’d get Falin back. Her death was just a temporary measure, no matter what, because she wouldn’t let Falin be gone forever.

But… that was literally just what Thistle had wanted. And looking at everything he’d done, and what they now knew about the demon… Marcille knew she would have been just as bad, or worse. Knew how narrowly she’d escaped exactly the same fate; and she couldn’t help but be reminded every time she saw Yaad.

It wasn’t like she wanted to be thanked for deciding not to end the world. It’d just be nice if people could occasionally appreciate what she’d given up for it.

It had been hard, and she’d had to acknowledge she was wrong, which she was damn sure most of the Canary wardens weren’t physically able to do. Nor much of anyone else that she’d met.

She was keeping those thoughts to herself, along with the knowledge of what accepting that she couldn’t fix the world was going to cost her. After all, she’d have decades, centuries yet to think all about that and wonder if she’d made the right decision, if she couldn’t have controlled the demon after all.

She couldn’t have. She’d have had no chance. But it was already eating at her in the dead of night, and it hadn’t even been a week.

She wasn’t going to waste time on it though. Not when the time she still had with some of her friends was so limited.

It’d just be nice if they were even slightly sensitive about that, too.

“C’mon, Chilchuck, you don’t need to go back to Kahka Brud,” she “teased” again, slumping into her folded arms on the table in front of her, “you can just live in the golden city with us! The king’s own locksmith!”

At the end of the table Laios perked up, despite his exhaustion from another long day of hauling meat and cooking.

Chilchuck folded his arms stubbornly and ignored the pair of them.

“All three of my girls are in Kahka Brud, and all my stuff! I was never planning on staying on the Island anyway, and you wanted to meet them all so bad, it’s not like it’s that far to visit,” he added slyly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he shot her a sidelong look.

Which. Was not fair.

Marcille absolutely did want to meet all three of his daughters, and his wife! The sooner the better! It just… could be here.

“They can move here too! We could help them all pick out houses, or where to build more half-foot sized ones, right Laios? It’s gotta be better to live where you’re personal friends with the ruler, right?” She wheedled, giving her best puppy eyes back.

Laios nodded eagerly, fingers playing nervously along the edge of the table.

“Yeah! You said Meijack’s a locksmith too, you could set up shop together! And I’m sure Fleurtom could find a nice dwarf-”

All levity suddenly leaving his face, Chilchuck slammed both hands on the table.

“And that’s exactly why they’re not coming! I’m not having two of my girls chasing around after Senshi giving him googoo eyes!” He snapped loudly, startling the man himself from where he’d been writing in his journal.

“What’s that?” He asked almost absent mindedly.

Chilchuck and Marcille both ignored him, Marcille tossing her hands into the air.

“Kahka Brud’s a dwarf city anyway! There’s got to be way more dwarves there, at least here it’s dwarves you’ve had a chance to get to know!”

“I got to know some of the ones in Kahka Brud anyway! I live there, all the time except when I was working the dungeon, which is gone now! I can’t ask them all to uproot their lives at the drop of a hat!”

“There’s literally never going to be a better time!” It was Marcille’s turn to slam her hands onto the table, surging to her feet too. “We need locksmiths! Half the houses in the risen city are still locked up!”

Chilchuck narrowed his eyes.

“Not all half-foots are locksmiths!”

“MEIJACK is, you told us to hire her if you died!”

“And I’m not fucking dead, am I!”

Senshi and Laios backed slowly away from the table. And went ignored.

Marcille sucked in a sharp breath, the words slamming into the well of fear in her chest. Chilchuck either didn’t notice or didn’t care, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“And nothing’s stopping you from hiring me! Or hell, coming to visit! You wanted to meet them so bad, Kahka Brud’s not that far away, so why should we be the ones to move!”

Clearly against his better judgement, Laios re approached the table with both hands raised as if to ward off an attack.

“Chilchuck… I dunno how safe it’ll be for Marcille to… y’know, leave…” he said hesitantly, eyes darting between them in case either went for his throat.

To her abject fury, Marcille felt tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be angry! He was just being a stubborn asshole for no reason!

But.

Yet.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Scrubbing at her eyes angrily, she did her best to glower at him.

“I can’t leave! You were so scared of the western elves, the only reason they’re not taking me with them when they leave is for Laios! That won’t matter in another few decades maybe, but I can’t wait that long! Because even when you’re a dick, I still want to spend time with you!”

Before you do die.

She couldn’t face the words, but they hung in the air in the silence anyway.

Laios quietly retreated. Senshi disappeared, probably in the direction of a kitchen. Chilchuck’s eyes widened briefly, and he sank back in his chair.

Marcille tried to catch her breath, pushing her hair back off her face. He hadn’t braided it for her today, and she hadn’t been able to work up the will to do it herself. Why couldn’t he just see he was needed here…

Pulling his mug back across the table towards him, Chilchuck took a large gulp and snorted.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll live another decade.”

Marcille. Blinked. Utterly dumbfounded. Had he forgotten somehow?

“Wh…. Chilchuck I’m going to live another nine hundred years?” She even sounded hollow and uncertain.

Chilchuck raised an eyebrow at her, gesturing with his mug.

“No, half-elves can live more than nine hundred years. You are a fucking disaster who got killed by a slime the second you left magic school, and now the immortality spell is gone. The next time any of us fuck up is for keeps, so I’m pretty sure I’ll outlive you,” he said smugly, finishing his beer.

Indignation rose to fill the space shock had emptied.

“What! Hey, you died in the dungeon as much as I did!”

Not that they’d ever actually compared death counts (who kept track of things like that?) but she was pretty damn sure he had. Dying hadn’t exactly been a regular occurence with the Toudens, but it wasn’t unheard of either. They’d both been under Falin’s resurrection more than once.

And he’d been working dungeons for years before she ever showed up! So really, he’d probably died more.

“Not ten minutes into my first day I didn’t,” Chilchuck snickered, pointing at her with the hand holding his tankard, “and I only ever died of things that only happen in dungeons, like mimics and traps. That’s not gonna be hard to avoid on the surface. You’re gonna have a much harder time avoiding your own clumsy ass.”

Especially not if he stayed in Melini, where the monsters wouldn’t go, but Marcille was much too indignant to think of that now.

Mouth opening and closing a few times, Marcille huffed and drew herself up, folding her arms. She couldn’t actually refute the whole “dying on the first day” thing, so there wasn’t much point trying.

(It wasn’t like it was her fault the Toudens had been too busy whispering to notice the slime.)

“It’s not like there’s an overabundance of slimes up here either!” She snapped, both hands on the table. “You’re more likely to be lock picking some trap for some obnoxious lord than I am to find another slime!”

“You’re more likely to do some dumbass magic and blow yourself up in a closed room than I am to find a trap I can’t handle,” Chilchuck shot back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Heat building in the tips of her ears, Marcille did her best to ignore it and glared at him.

“I’m not going to need any explosive spells! There’s no monsters to fight!”

“I said blow yourself up, not use explosive spells,” Chilchuck said dismissively, waving a hand, “you’re way too into all that weird magical experimenting, and it’s not like you’ll remember to take care of yourself anyway. Senshi and I will get back to our lives and in a week you’ll have forgotten you need food and be wasting away in a tower.”

“Hey! I can take care of myself!”

“You probably couldn’t make a sandwich.”

“I can cook for myself just fine!”

“You’re gonna confuse one of your weird dark magic potions for a sauce and be dead in a week.”

“That was SENSHI! And it wasn’t a dark magic potion, it was a changeling ointment!”

“Yeah, and when you do it it’ll be a weird dark magic potion. And you’ll turn yourself into a mushroom or something.”

“I’m not even doing the ancient magic anymore! And I’m not gonna turn into a mushroom! No one turns themselves into a mushroom!”

“And how many people accidentally turn dragons into chimeras?”

Breathing heavily, Marcille clenched her fists and forced herself not to cry. Or scream. They were finally, finally so close to fixing that stupid mistake, and it hadn’t even been her who’d made it.

If Thistle hadn’t revived the dragon… but no, that didn’t matter.

She’d known Chilchuck wasn’t comfortable with what she’d done. He’d never been shy about it. Although apparently he’d also been holding more back than she’d thought. And none of that mattered, because she didn’t want to waste what little time they might have left on pointless fighting.

“If I’m that much of a disaster, that’s only more of a reason for you to move closer! Any of us could die tomorrow!” She huffed, dropping gracelessly back into her seat.

Somehow, the words didn’t hurt as much when she was annoyed. Didn’t feel as imminent, as real.

Chilchuck snickered and poured himself another beer.

“You could. I actually know how to take care of myself. And you guys don’t pay me enough to babysit.”

Marcille spluttered indignantly, unable to even find the words. Laios cautiously approached the table again, but didn’t retake his seat. He still looked skittish and uncertain, lost as ever when the subject wasn’t monsters.

“Still, Chilchuck… there’ll always be a place for you here. For you, and your daughters, and your wife if you ever want it? Wasn’t Marcille going to help you try and work things out with your wife anyway?” He asked hopefully, giving Marcille the puppy eyes that looked way too much like Falin’s.

She had no chance against those eyes, but luckily in this case he was on her side. Chilchuck faltered, and she shot him a triumphant grin.

“Yeah! It’s gonna take forever if we have to write letters back and forth,” she agreed smugly… although the idea of the story playing out over a long series of letters was appealing too.

It’d be like having her own private romantic serial.

Unless Chilchuck and his wife both moved to Melini, and then she could watch it in real time, and that’d be even better! Or if Chilchuck moved in, and they both wrote to his wife together…

Senshi reappeared, carrying a tray of steaming mugs that smelled of cinnamon, pausing for just a moment in the door before approaching the table. All three men gradually relaxed as Marcille visibly brightened up, as she always did with the prospect of family drama or a slow romance.

Or not rehashing the death of everyone she’d ever met. Or would meet, for another five hundred years.

Senshi distributed the mugs, gently taking Chilchuck’s beer and only getting a mildly disgruntled look as he switched it out for hot milk. The half-foot took a sip of the new drink anyway, humming happily as he tasted the whiskey.

Marcille played with hers, turning the mug slowly in her hands as she mused over all the possibilities. Then she snapped back, shooting Chilchuck a hopeful smile.

“You know… being the royal locksmith would be the kind of position that might really impress her,” she suggested, heart in her throat.

A reluctant pink tinged Chilchuck’s cheeks.

“She doesn’t care about things like that,” he grumbled, looking into the foam on the milk. Just a little too sullen when combined with that blush.

Marcille squirmed in delight. “Just coworkers” or not, she knew him far too well to miss excuses.

“Oh, but we’ll have to get you fitting clothes! Something very well tailored, with fine fabrics, since you’re on the king’s payroll. What’s her favourite colour?” She asked eagerly, clasping both hands over her heart.

Clearly about to protest again, the last question wrong-footed Chilchuck completely.

“What? Why?” He asked cautiously.

Marcille rolled her eyes.

“Because you need to wrap her present in something, and oh! You’ll have to tell me her favourite flowers, and jewellery, and…”

The possibilities spilled out in front of her, far more infinite than the unknown spans of time that might be left to any of them.

True, to an elf (or a half-elf), they’d see so many years that they almost lost meaning. But she had the same twenty-four hours in a day, every day, and if the dungeon had taught her anything it was that those hours could be as long or short as she made them.

Really, even a thousand years probably wouldn’t be long enough for her to run out of romantic strategies to help Chilchuck win his wife back. They’d have to get down to some serious planning really soon, maybe even before the feast…

Actually, there was one obvious place to start.

Beginning to relax into his drink, Chilchuck twitched when her attention snapped back to him.

“Hey Chilchuck… what’s your wife’s name?”

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Finally we’re back to short and sweet 😁 and this one has been living rent free in my head for a while

Aaaaaand spawned another terrible little snippet with my most beloved Mithrun that I hope to be sharing with you soon because the only thing making the Marcille-disaster worst is hanging out with Mithrun 😇

Dungeon Lord Besties

And link to my AO3:

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #after dinner mints #after dinner mints: lifespans #dungeon meshi fanfic #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #hater squad activate #laios and senshi are Also There But Would Prefer Not To Be #attempted angst but chilchuck said ‘lol nope’#marcille can try all she wants until he’s literally dead he’s gonna tell her she ain’t shit #and then on the anniversary of his death his girls gonna deliver marcille a letter #that also says ‘you ain’t shit’#lifespan angst

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