#now they just need to release a falin so i can make them kiss

[himeseme]

"where did all of your money go you just got paid"

uhhhh

[rufousnmacska]

Child of Peace 19 - Go

manorian adventures post EoS

chapter 18 with short summary of the story so far

full work on AO3

   Dorian nudged Manon, nodding across the cavern when she looked up from working on Abraxos’s talon. Annabee and Fallon had just walked in, heading toward Banshee at the opposite side the cave.

Your niece is a shameless flirt, Dorian thought.

Manon snorted. Have you been giving her lessons?

Oh you've only experienced a fraction of what… Dorian didn’t finish his thought as he watched Fallon laugh at something Annabee had said.

“Maybe I’m the one who should be taking notes,” he mumbled under his breath. “Are you seeing this?”

Manon grabbed his arm and pulled him down where she knelt behind Abraxos. “Stop spying on them,” she hissed under her breath.

“Hmmm…” He was still trying to peek around the wyvern. “Either she got it from her father’s side, or it skips a generation. And,” he turned back to her. “I’m not spying. It’s just nice to see Fallon smile.”

She stood and glanced over at the two, smiling herself. “I guess I needn’t have worried about neglecting her lately.” Abraxos released an annoyed huff. She patted his side as she knelt back down. “I’ve already apologized. And you’ve gotten more exercise this past week. You’re far from neglected.” She went back to sharpening his rough talon.

Dorian was waiting for her to reply to his teasing, but nothing came. He knew she wasn’t using the time thinking up a good retort. The suspense, the anticipation... That was part of it. His pulse beat just a little faster.

And because he so loved this about her, the way she would play with him, tease him... He would be patient. She gave as good as she got, enjoying the game as much as he did. Something that might surprise others. Not for the first time, he was struck by how differently those others must see her. And, as always, he was glad he’d never been fooled.

Manon finished and stood, carefully pushing loose strands of hair behind her ears. Here it comes, he thought, unable to keep a smirk off his face. But she just ignored him, walking past to inspect the other claws.

Dorian’s smile faltered and he was about to say something when Aven came running into the cave. She was shouting and it took him a few seconds to understand the words. Manon ran to meet her, Annabee and Fallon following.

But he just stood there. Frozen by the words he was finally processing.

“Ironteeth. About a day out. Hundreds of wyverns. All of you must leave. Now.”

  Rushing to pack supplies and weapons, Dorian reached for the pocket where the two wyrdkeys were secured. He’d been doing it reflexively every couple of minutes since Aven’s alarm.

She’d insisted - commanded - that they leave with the keys. Annabee would ride with Fallon and lead them to the temple. It was in the northernmost tip of the Anascauls. About a week on foot, three days on a broom. Less on a wyvern. Once they had the third key, all four would head to Terrasen.

Both Annabee and Manon had protested. But Aven promised that their forces would be sent to Orynth to join them and Aedion’s armies. No one had voiced their shared doubt. That there may not be many Crochan forces left to send.

Manon came into their room wearing her fighting leathers, Wind Cleaver strapped across her back. “They’re almost ready,” she said quietly.

He was impressed by her calm. Both she and Fallon had reacted to the news with lethal conviction. They’d no doubt been expecting it. The only time their composure had cracked was upon learning there still had been no sign of the Thirteen.

“I think I have everything,” he said, his hand going to his chest pocket yet again. “The keys. The spells.”

With a soft smile on her face, Manon reached around him and pulled a dried stem from the pack holding their clothes. Lavender. She inhaled the fading scent and stuck it into her jacket. “Let’s go.”

   Back in the wyvern cave, Fallon was preparing Abraxos for flight while Banshee hung back behind her alpha. Manon watched Fallon carefully. Looking for signs that the witch was having second thoughts.

All this time away from her twin had changed Fallon. Opened her up. She’d become more self-assured, more at ease with herself. That missing confidence her sister had distracted from, or helped Fallon to hide. Maybe Annabee has become a replacement for Faline in some ways, she thought. Maybe. But she didn’t see her niece being overly protective, or forcing Fallon out of her shell. She was drawing her out by her attention and personality. She is quite a flirt, Manon mused.

“Don’t worry about me,” Fallon said, noticing Manon’s staring.

“You don’t need to do this.” At Fallon’s hurt expression, Manon tilted her head towards Annabee. “I gave you no order.”

“I know,” the young witch said. “I know it’s my choice and I know what choice I’m making.”

Manon nodded but kept quiet as Dorian approached and began to strap in their bags and weapons. At the cave entrance, Aven talked quietly with Annabee then hugged her. The witchling came over to join them next to Abraxos, rubbing her eyes. She pulled Fallon into a tight hug, whispering something in her ear.

Dorian watched the goodbye with puzzlement. Then, understanding what was happening, he whirled on Manon. Trying to ignore the shock and anger growing on his face, in his thoughts, Manon took his hand and pulled him away from the others.

“What are you doing?” His voice was like ice.

The decision had been immediate. There was no way she’d abandon her grandmother, her people. She’d worn Aven down quickly by getting her to admit that there were other options for using the wyrdkeys if she was unable to join Dorian. The plan would be riskier with three instead of four, but the chance of success and survival was still high.

Fallon had asked to stay too, much to Annabee’s growing anguish. Annabee would have to go with Dorian to guide him to the temple and help with the keys. And although Manon thought Banshee a fine wyvern, she could only fully trust Abraxos to keep Dorian safe.

That had left informing Dorian. She’d meant to tell him in their rooms. But when she’d seen that sprig of lavender… The one she’d kept after his night of courting her. She’d thought it had been lost. But he’d found it. And kept it himself.

Now, Manon prayed to the Three-Faced Goddess to help her through this. And she almost laughed. Laughed at how many other times she’d thought This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done… How wrong she’d been.

“Manon.” Dorian practically moaned her name. Fear replacing his anger and shock. “I’m not leaving you.”

“I can’t leave them. I won’t leave them to fight an army that is hunting for me. For us.”

“Then I’ll stay too. My magic will be needed.”

Her chest felt like it would explode. Her heart actually ached.  And she knew some of that must be coming from him. They were both wide open to the other, sharing every feeling.

“You can’t,” she said, choking back a sob. She was determined not to cry. Not for fear of seeming weak. But because if she did, he would insist on staying, and her resolve would waiver.

His hand was trembling in hers. Was this from the bond? All of this emotion and pain? This physical pain?

“You know you can’t. You have to get the last key and take it to the others. We can’t risk them falling into the wrong hands. I promise. I will come as soon as I can.”

Manon felt his disbelief in her words. He didn’t doubt her abilities. He just knew the odds were against them. The Crochans had their own army. But, they were spread out too thinly along the mountains. The alarm had been raised and they’d be on the move south. But it would take days for most of them to get here.

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it. He knew she was right. And he knew he could not convince her to go. She pulled his still shaking hand to her mouth and kissed it.

“Don’t worry,” she said, forcing a smile. “True love doesn’t happen every day. Nothing can come between it. Isn’t that what one of your books said?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, taking hold of her braid. “So that’s what you were reading after I’d fall asleep? Not Aven’s history books as you so adamantly claimed? And you said you only read those because it was a matter of life and death.” His face fell at the slip of that last word.

But Manon kept her smile. “Well, since I apparently lack any skill for flirting, which is absurd considering how easily I ensnared you… I thought maybe I could learn something from one or two of your silly romance novels.”

Dorian’s face lit up and he laughed, even as tears rolled down his cheeks. “My silly novels? I don’t recall borrowing any. And, I’m not the one quoting them. But don’t worry Witchling,” he said, leaning closer. “I won’t tell anyone how much you like them.”

And now, she was laughing too. And crying. He took her face in his hands and slowly kissed her. Their tears mixed together as the kiss became more desperate, neither wanting it to end... both willing it not to end.

But there was no time left. Easing into a hug, Manon whispered in his ear. “Keep Abraxos safe for me.” His breath hitched and she felt his nod against her shoulder.

When they returned to the others, Annabee was already atop Abraxos. At a look from Dorian, she slid towards the back of the saddle, rolling her eyes.

Manon had already said goodbye to her niece, but she felt a surge of gratitude when Annabee said, “I’ll watch out for them.”

Dorian kissed her again then mounted Abraxos. He turned to Annabee and said, “If I’d known you were to be my bodyguard, I’d have held a proper ceremony. Make you an honorary King’s Guard.” Annabee scowled, her eyes sliding to the others in exasperation.

And as Aven spoke to Dorian, Manon pushed herself to move to the next goodbye. She’d expected Abraxos to be angry, but his expressive face showed a mixture of sadness and determination. She spoke to him mind to mind, leaning her head against his.

You know how important this is. Keep them safe. I will do everything in my power to return to you.

A sudden half-formed image flashed through her head. The Matron. Then a rush of concern. Hatred.

I know. She’s coming. That’s part of why I must stay. I will deal with her.

Manon stepped back and gazed into his eyes. You are mine and I am yours Abraxos. From now until the Darkness cleaves us apart.

He dipped his large head, and before she could move away, his tongue flicked out and he licked her hand. He’d never done that before. She laughed and looked up to find Dorian watching them.

Holding Dorian’s stare, she laid her hand on Abraxos’s neck and said, “Go.”

As her wyvern made his way to the cave mouth, Dorian’s eyes never left hers. They shared again all of the feelings and thoughts they’d exchanged upon accepting the cariad bond. All of the love and understanding that had led them to choose each other.

An instant later, they were out of the cave and shooting into the air, headed north. Aven and Fallon came to stand on either side of her and they watched until Abraxos became a tiny dark spot in the sky. When he’d disappeared from view, they returned to the inner tunnels to prepare for the upcoming battle.

   They’d been airborne for mere minutes and had just cleared a high band of clouds when Annabee leaned forward to speak into Dorian’s ear.

“You didn't put up much of a fight. You're not going to Terrasen.”

Not a question. Good, he thought. Then she has the same idea. He twisted back so she could hear him over the roar of wind. Abraxos was already beginning to push himself to go faster, at Dorian’s urging.

“No. They’re right about the keys. The Blackbeak Matron cannot get them. We’re going to hide these two in the temple. Only heirs of Brannon can enter. And unless I’m mistaken, there’s only five of us, none of whom will help that bitch. Then, we go back.” She replied with a wicked grin.

Facing forward again, he leaned down over Abraxos’s muscled neck and thought GO!

Abraxos let out a scream of agreement and sped up.

  To be continued…

[skeletonwoman]

RG: Rolled (Pietro)

NUMBAAAA FIVE HERE. this is nothing fruity and nothing funky. I’m losing interest and it’s lucky the last part is next (hey).

four

You watch the blur with precision, watching his pattern as he races around the room and amuses your two best friends. Clint throws another ball at the blur, only to watch it fling back and hit Thors face, laughter bursting from the three men. Clint dives under the coffee table and Thor roars challengingly, rolling over the couch cushions and flinging the ball ahead of the blur. A disgruntled complaint sounds and Clint yelps a giggle, only for it to turn into real laughter when Thor picks up the coffee table and smacks him with the small ball.

You need to corner Pietro. Need to make him see that you were being an idiot.

Rephrase: Need to make him see you were being an idiot that deserves forgiveness and cuddles and kisses and piggy back rides through the vortex.

But when you watch Thor play super spy and try to hide behind the fake plant in the corner, only to decide to use it as a sword, you’re distracted from the task.

“Ah-ha!” Thor shouts, spotting you in the doorway, the ball already flying from his fingers and only a silver blur saves you from a hit directly to the face.

“Join us!” Clint calls, face peeking from a hole in the roof and you grin, about to step into the room when you hesitate. Your eyes watch Pietro as he races, unstopping.

“Oof!” You grunt, the ball smacking you hard in the gut and your lips curve upwards despite the sudden ache. Game on, Maximoff.

Snatching the ball up, you leap forward onto the coffee table like Peter Pen, aiming for Thor to spin and fling it directly into Clints face. His body drops from the roof unceremoniously and a roar of laughter sounds. Kicking, you watch the magazines slip from the table, only to yelp and duck, the ball flying over your head. Behind you, Thor catches it and pegs it, hitting your butt with enough force to send you falling forward and ending up with your face pressed into the couch cushion, legs in the air.

Rolling, you nab the ball and throw it in the air, releasing the gravity around it while you rise and line up the shot.

Pietro blurs forward and your foot flies out, gravity releasing the ball and sending it smack into his head. Or so it sounds when he comes to a standstill and stares at the ball in betrayal.

“I see how it is, Y/L/N.” He sneers playfully, grabbing the ball up while the room waits in silence. His arm winds back and you yelp, prematurely diving over the back of the couch.

Your breath escapes you, eyes locking with Pietros as he kneels before you and gently bops your nose with the ball.

“You’re it.” He smirks, blurring away and you let the air escape you in a rush, only to leap to your feet with a war cry.

Hours later, the game over, you sit on Thors back while he does push ups. One handed.

“I want to apologise. But do I need to?” You ask him, mostly rhetorically since he’s grunting more than anything. “Like we seemed cool. But there’s a difference between cool and smushin’.”

“Indeed.” He grunts and you nod pensively, fingers tightening on his shoulder momentarily as you wobble in your seat.

“But how am I supposed to go about that when he won’t even slow down? And what would I even say?” You continue, tapping a senseless beat on his shoulders, rhythm severely lacking. Your eyes dart about the room, your room actually. “Why are you working out in here?”

“You- were- in- here.” He answers, a word a push up, like it gives the sentence more meaning.

“’peat it.”

He sighs unhappily at your slang and the implied demand. “This is- your- job. No one- else- wants to.”

“Idiots.” You console him, plaiting a hank of his hair awkwardly, the rhythm of his push ups making it difficult. You jostle suddenly as he changes hands before putting yourself back together.

“Can we watch Mulan later?” You ask him, toying with his hair still, despite finishing the braid.

“No.” He grunts and you scoff, scowling furiously.

“I’m tired of watching Bambi! They don’t speak in it!” You shout suddenly, feeling him falter slightly under you before he resolves himself and refocuses the rhythm. “Bambi is a bitch! Faline can trip in that damn puddle. I can’t live through losing his mother again!”

Thor throws you off suddenly and you growl, glaring at his stubborn expression, his jaw set.

“I’m going to watch Bambi.” He promises and you snarl, turning away from him.

“Then you’ll watch it alone.” You hiss, not looking at him and he snorts obnoxiously, likely thinking you’ll be there at eight, ready to watch stupid deer prance about the flames stupidly.

You don’t turn when he exits, instead moving to your laptop and scanning your files.

“It’s eight ten.” Pietro hums, poking his head through your open door and you grumble nonsensically. “Ah. Taking a stand.”

“I hate Bambi!” You screech, turning suddenly and he jumps, darting through the door and closing it behind himself.

“Okay. Uh- Yes. Let’s not- Um.” He struggles and your shoulders droop, your expression melting into sadness with them.

“I love Thor though.” You mumble sadly and he nods understandingly.

“I can’t stay.” He says suddenly and you blink. You’d been sitting in silence for a full minute, both of you looking in opposite directions uncomfortably but unwilling to break the tentative truce.

“Oh?”

“A girl from stats offered to show me an American carnival.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. You’d shown him a carnival months ago, this girl probably meant the carnival in her pants.

“I’m sorry.” You offer weakly, meeting his gaze for a second before the both of you looked away. “It was personal as hell and completely untrue. I freaked out, I realized I had feelings for you and I was too scared to actually put myself… To trust you so I took Clints dumb advice and lashed out.”

Pietros cheeks are pink and you’re regretting apologizing already.

“I’m not- I don’t expect anything now. I just want to be friends like normal people have friends. And I want to take back what I said and since you can’t always have what you want, I was hoping I can have your friendship?” Your voice rises squeakily and he grimaces, lips twitching upward.

“We can be friends.” He agrees gently and your shoulders sag happily and you grin at him goofily. “As an olive branch, as Tony says, I will tell you that Rose from stats smells like warm paper and I like her.”

You gulp and grin, rolling your eyes at him. “Always falling for the regular traits. Come on, Maximoff, find something special about a girl next time.”

He chuckles and kicks your ankle playfully before backing toward the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N. My friend.”

“Night, Pietro. Also my friend.” You answer as your door closes and you hesitate, counting to ten before inhaling slowly. Something trickles down your cheek and you sigh, sniffling once. What good is it to count if the counting doesn’t stop the tears? And snot.

as you can see in the empty spaces between the words, my interest has nearly fled.