#oh well we're all with you there <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lilliankillthisman]

she really said i preferred you as a half-starved sickly twink...

[trappedinafantasy37]

Minthara may have an 8 int stat and doesn't always consider the consequences for her actions. But you know what she does have? She's got that 15 charisma stat and that paladin rizz. But she doesn't use that rizz to flirt you up. Nah, she uses that paladin rizz to convince you to commit reprehensible moral atrocities.

Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong. We all raid that grove with no hesitation and claim the Absolute all because babygurl asked. She doesn't need to flirt with you. She knows she's got you wrapped around her finger. All she's gotta do is point and we go running to make her happy.

[tsarjozinzbazin]

Hey guys guess what

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

bioware trying to throw me off my mission by being like "ooo look Emmrich is a botanist!! how relatable! think about him and his love of plants!" oh yeah then why isnt HE going crazy in Arlathan ID'ing the tree species the way I am. why hasn't he said anything about how the leaf litter on the ground is chok full of oak leaves but there's NOWHERE an oak tree to be found??? it's all apsen and pine and that one special one davrin points out (marpel). where are the oaks. WHERE ARE THE OAKS

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

Chicago inspired Victuuri AU where Yuuri gets thrown into the slammer after he kills a shitty manager, gets very talked down to (JJ maybe?), then promptly seduces (mostly accidentally) The Best Defence Attorney This Side Of The Country Victor Nikiforov, who initially is only in it for the money until Yuuri pins him with his big'ol eyes and despite his attempts to resist, is immediately doomed. Plus side, Yuuri's on the highway to hell with him in the passenger seat so aaaaye

Now they just need to make sure Yuuri doesn't get the death penalty but in the meantime, well.... Yuuri's already in jail for murder, making out with his lawyer can't be any more against the law...

[aroanthy]

'nanami's precious thing', revolutionary girl utena (1997) / kunihiko ikuhara's 'the romance of the dancing girls' commentary / 'what can the damned really say to the damned', interview with the vampire (2022) / iwtv's jacob anderson, delainey hayles & sam reid break down scene from the s2 premiere / 'i could not prevent it', interview with the vampire (2022) / 'the romance of the dancing girls', revolutionary girl utena (1997).

bonus:

'i could not prevent it', interview with the vampire (2022) / 'i could not prevent it' episode insider / 'and someday, together, we'll shine', revolutionary girl utena (1997).

[cerealmonster15]

i forgot grunt meant like henchman or whatever for a second i thought they were like yeah leonas bitch ass grunts and growls are partial proof to savanaclaw being an athletic leaning dorm lol

[hergrandplan]

Suburban Legends Chapter 8

“Your place looks nice. Where was this taken?” He inclined his head towards the picture he had been staring at, hoping that Wille would think that that was the reason he’d been looking at it in the first place. And not because he had been scrutinizing every single part of Wille’s face. “Greece, I think? Might have been Monaco, I don’t remember. We went to a lot of places that summer, it’s kind of a blur.” “It looks like fun.” Simon said, turning away from the picture. Wille leaned against one of the bookshelves, a few feet away from Simon. “It was,” Wille said after a moment. “There was this restaurant in Barcelona where they served Venezuelan food. It was delicious. I remember thinking how much you would have loved it.” Wille’s voice trailed off as he realized he said something he shouldn’t have said. You would have loved it. Once again, one of them had veered too close to that gated off past. The one thing they had made the silent agreement to not speak about. Simon pictured him, sitting in that restaurant, surrounded by friends, the Mediterranean sun on his back. And all Wille had thought about was Simon.

In which Simon visits Wille's house for the first time, and has two very important realizations.

Ft. Ice cream shenanigans

Read chapter 8 here or start from the beginning

As always, beta-read by the amazing @thehanwen thank you for your insightful feedback and also letting me pester you with questions about ice cream and for you pushing me about my endings <3

(Premise: In a plan to boost Simon’s career Simon and Wilhelm find themselves in a PR-scheme, only made worse by complicated feelings… Rated E, WIP)

[lumberwoof]

AU where Franka doesn't get approval for the transfer and instead has to cut and run to Rhodes Island alone. Liskarm just misses finding out and isn't able to follow. and then they reunite some years down the line for whatever reason, Franka happy at Rhodes Island but still a little lonely and Liskarm saying she's fine but being at Blacksteel for so long has made her colder and harsher and just plain miserable.

(it isn't all bad, she at least has Jessica and Vanilla, but they can't get under her skin the way Franka could. Liskarm swears that Franka would get under skin sometimes just to dig out the bad feelings.)

(and Franka has people. she's surrounded by people she cares about. operators cut from the same cloth as her, that will charge headlong into battle beside her. colleagues who will nag her about sleeping and eating and training and mission parameters. friends who will rag on her for her choice of reading material. but Liskarm was all of those things rolled into one. and she is not here)

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — on the radio.

JULY 15, 1989

Marty sighs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He flexes his hands, rolling his shoulders, trying to work the kink out of his back before getting back to work. That’s pretty much the only downside of tinkering around with various unfinished projects of Doc’s; way too many hours spent hunched over. 

“That was Tom Petty with ‘I Won’t Back Down’ here on KWHV 108.3 and I’m your host, Jamie Lee.” The deejay’s voice is sweet and smooth, and he remembers, warmth creeping across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, that Jamie Lee was his first crush. As if it wasn’t enough she was the coolest girl inside the halls of Hill Valley High, outside of school she was the best basketball player and had the best music taste. A triple threat for sure. 

“Next up we’ve got something kinda special: a new group that’s been soaring through the charts and sent the music world spinning with their electrifying debut.” 

Marty feels his heart quicken in his chest and tries to tell himself to calm down, the radio static buzzing in his head. He drops the screwdriver, which clatters to the table clumsily. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way in hell she could be talking about–

“So, without further ado, with their lead single ‘Strangerland’ off their album 88, give it up for Hill Valley’s very own hometown boys, McFly and the Flyaways!’ 

His stomach drops. He’d recognize that opening riff anywhere.

“Future sight can’t help me tonight, tired of waitin’ for time to restart–”

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Holy shit!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet and not even caring that he hits his head on the way up. “Doc! DOC!” 

He only feels a little bad when the door gets kicked open and his best friend bursts into the room like he’s goddamn Batman, clad in safety goggles instead of a cape and wielding a fire extinguisher instead of a Batarang. 

“MARTY!” Doc cries, looking around like a man possessed, frantic in his search for some threat. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He runs to the scientist, grasping his upper arms. His face hurts from smiling so much. 

“Doc! Doc, listen!”

“—ghosts in my head, there’s a ghost in the mirror that I see instead—" comes his own voice a moment later. 

Marty bows his head, grip momentarily tightening. There’s a lump in his throat and when he looks up at Doc again, his blue eyes are watery.

“My song, Doc,” he whispers. An awestruck, dumbstruck, disbelieving smile on his face makes him look all of thirteen again and he couldn’t care less. He lets out a laugh that’s a little too close to a sob for comfort. “They’re playing my song.” 

The fire extinguisher falls to the ground with a thud as Doc returns the embrace, holding Marty at arm’s length so tightly he thinks he’ll wake up with bruises in the morning. If Marty thought his own smile was big and stupid, it had nothing on Doc’s. 

“Do you know what this means?” he murmurs. 

“You were right,” Marty replies. “All the stuff you said to me.” 

“If you put your mind to it…” Doc starts, gently.

“…You can accomplish anything,” Marty finishes. 

The chorus starts, crackly over the radio, but it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard. 

“Oh, I’m lost in my dreams, fallin' apart at the seams, and time is slippin' through my hand

But I got somethin' to prove, so what have I got to lose?

I'm gonna make it outta this

Strangerland!

I gotta make it outta this

Strangerland!” 

“Woah,” Marty laughs, tears sliding down his face. “This is heavy.” 

Doc pulls him into a bone-crushing hug which he eagerly returns, the instrumentation that took them weeks to nail blaring in the background.

“You did it, Marty. You made it.”

“I made it,” Marty repeats, as if it’ll make it feel more real. He feels lighter than air and like he’s buzzing with electricity, like he’s flying over a thundercloud. “Holy shit, I made it.” A sudden realization shocks him and his eyes widen. “I-I gotta tell the guys!”

“Go on, go on!” Doc encourages, letting him go, watching him fondly as he almost trips over his feet and the rug trying to make it to the phone in Doc and Clara’s library and study. 

However, it’s already ringing when he gets there. 

“Yo!” he greets, out of force of habit.

“Marty!” his dad’s warm voice responds. 

“Marty, honey, turn on the radio, quick!” his mom jumps in. “They’re playing it! Your, um, your Stranger in a Strange Land song!” 

“It’s your song, kiddo!” His dad sounds full to bursting with joy. “And boy, does it sound great!” 

He laughs, using his thumb and forefinger in a fruitless attempt to try to stem the flow of tears.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re so happy for you. And so proud of you, too, so proud.” His mom sounds like she’s about to cry, too. “Linda’s taping it and everything and Dave has it playing at the office!”

“We love you, son,” his dad reminds him, “and you’ll be home for dinner, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. I will. Love you too.”

[ace-malarky]

Happy Blorbo Blursday!

No question today, just give us a ramble about a character you don't usually get a chance to ramble about!

Beloved, I have so many characters I have never rambled about but also ok we're doing side characters with Relevance now so it's Drassa's turn

by the time of any story we see her in, she's a retired adventurer, well respected if distant member of society, definitely nobility if a bit strange, and

of course

our boy Jasper's mother

(and also the character I played in the game that spawned them both. No I don't know why Jasper then got the limelight but it's better this way because I can just allude to all of Drassa's stuff rather than having to write it)

Except! no one knows she is Jasper's mother because she is Unwed and Respectable and Surely Drassa Would Never so he's obviously just like. a foster child or a distant relative's because she is so Sweet and Noble, of course she would Help Out to give him a good start in life

but anyway. She starts life as like. almost a normal kid, actually! She's friendly, she has a family! There's no tragic backstory here, she's just kinda bored with it all. She just has a hankering for something more and, being stubborn and unwilling to listen to people telling her to cool her jets and also No, she just strikes out with whatever group is going and learns fast how to fake everything. She isn't a fighter but my god can she talk her way into and out of everything! In a world of elves and orcs and lizardfolk where they haven't quite forgotten that humans are only so many generations out of being colonisers, with no access to the magic of the world, she's got to be smart about it and she is. She moonlights as a thief for a little bit (this is how she meets her main party/friends) but rather than stealth, her strategy is to act like she owns the place and not give anyone an opening to suggest that she doesn't

Her main party/friends are a lizardfolk & elf couple who have their own enemies-to-lovers arc already sorted by the time they meet Drassa, and they become very ride-or-die in the... ten or so years that they hang out together. despite claiming that they themselves are retired at that point. they couldn't resist Drassa's charm either

I am still somewhat hazy on how she meets Jasper's dad. it was probably just for a good time! Jasper definitely wasn't planned! (and had she known about the curse, she probably wouldn't have gone there but my god she would have liked to have known before it all explosively comes to light)

but when she realises she's pregnant, she figures she's got to make sure the kid isn't like. caught in the little circle of enemies she's getting known by? So she enlists her friends to help her get off world (fraud is committed), sets herself up as Rich Aristocrat (crimes are committed, but politely), and settles herself in for a life of refined ease. There is absolutely never a moment where she goes "ha this kid is going to be someone else's problem I'm too busy" she just fully adapts to being a single parent

but ok yes, she's looking after a kid and settling into her place in society with her big house and her garden and the servants that she pays to help out when she has to, and as Jasper grows up she finds she's just. she's missing it all! She wasn't aiming for retirement this early, but she's got a kid, man, and by god is he going to grow up in safety and with the freedom to get into whatever the fuck he wants!

so she might still be doing some light facilitating and blackmail and information gathering on the side. Oh I need to write in her and Nuvian knowing each other, that's a necessity. You know she's working with our travelling crime merchant! He's definitely fencing stuff for her!

and she doesn't exactly keep this quiet from Jasper & Llinos but I think they're definitely mostly laboring under the idea that she's retired (or at least only still has like the vaguest of historic links to it all), so when they come back to find that her past has come back to bite, they're a little surprised to find that she's holding her own in whatever form the fight has taken haha

Tamhas and Tadhg do not know any of it, and this is for everyone's safety. It's bad enough that they wriggled their way into crime as it is, but at least it's where Drassa can keep an eye on them. This is why they panic when they realise that Drassa is in trouble, and like while she appreciates the back up it was not entirely necessary! She'd got herself out of tighter fixes before and she'll do it again

[cranberrymoons]

.

[ruvviks]

coming up with zombie apocalypse stories is always fun because you can just say whatever and people will just have to take your word for it

[silent-sentinels]

@euclydya sits with y'all. holds y'all gently. <33 <22

[exoexid]

the suyeol lore is so crazy

[bookwyrminspiration]

For prompts “ hey, i know it’s really late, but... i didn’t know who else to call. “ or “how did you even get sick? you look ugly. come here.” as Kenric and Oralie?

Guess who's back at the dialogue prompts! It's me. This ask is rather old, so I don't know if you're still around, but if you are: I hope you enjoy, as they were quite sweet to write <3

ill-advised indulgences <- ao3 link

warnings: mild sickness

word count: 5.1k

Councillor Oralie didn’t enjoy midnight hails under the best of circumstances, and mere hours--if that--away from finishing a project that’d been bothering her for weeks was many things, but it was not the best of circumstances.

“Yes?” she sighed, unable to completely hide her irritation and knowing it was absolutely unprofessional of her; she hadn’t even bothered to look at the screen. The others would have her back in etiquette trainings without hesitation if they caught her like this.

“Hey, I know it’s really late, but... I didn’t know who else to call.”

She straightened in spite of herself, furious at the blush she felt spreading across her cheeks. But even stronger than the heat was the confusion.

“Kenric?”

“Forgotten me already, Ora?”

When she looked to the screen, she couldn’t see a hint of his soft, elegant features--not even an awkward corner angle.

Only stars, twinkling bright across her screen as she held it close in her palm.

“Why are you hailing? Is something wrong?” What was he even doing up in the middle of the night? He should be long asleep by now--just as she should’ve been, but she ignored that.

Something rustled, and his voice followed--low, like a sigh. “No, nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I just…need a hand, and you’re less likely to be upset with me than any of the others for disturbing you so late. Or at least I thought you would be--that was quite a cold greeting.” He tried for light, but something in his voice strained and it fell flat.

“I’m sorry--you caught me in the middle of something; it was rude of me. What do you need help with?” The sleeve of her dress had slipped, and she pushed it back up her arm to have something to do, then tucked a straying ringlet back behind her ear. She couldn’t remember if she’d looked in a mirror that morning, and she wasn’t willing to admit to herself why she suddenly cared.

“Can you come to Siren Rock?” he asked, and she blinked.

“What are you doing at Siren Rock? Your Universe homework? If you’ve forgotten it, I think it’s a little too late to make it up.” She couldn’t help the laugh in her throat and smile on her lips, because it was such a ridiculous place for a councillor to be. People only went to Siren Rock for mediocre stargazing, or to appease their Mentors with proof they could passably bottle starlight.

Her laugh cut off as he answered, “Yes, actually.” He sounded amused.

“You’ve lost me,” she admitted. And yet she found herself trying to remember where she’d set her pathfinder; surely it was somewhere amid all these papers.

Still not showing his face, he explained. “It’s part of a…classified assignment. I was supposed to be working on it myself, bottling quintessence, but the quantity is more than I can manage. I can’t see straight enough to even guess where the right stars are anymore.”

“You’re bottling quintessence?” There it was, on the floor next to her desk; she must’ve bumped it off and hadn’t noticed amid the rest of the mess she’d made.

“From Phosforien and Marquiseire, yes. Can you help? It’s alright if you can’t, I’ll ask one of the others.”

“No!” The word burst out with more force than she intended, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. “I’ve already set my pathfinder. Do I need to bring anything, or is it just me you need?”

“Just you, Ora.” Then he added, “Make sure to bring a warm cloak, I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I’ll be right there,” she promised, ending the hail and turning from her project with a small pang of regret. She’d built such momentum, but it’d been doomed the moment she answered the hail. She could never say no to Kenric.

Except when it came to the one topic neither of them dared breath a word about.

~

The chill slipped around the edges of her thick rose cloak as Oralie glittered into the dark of Siren Rock, the uneven earth illuminated by the silvered moonlight creeping across it, the waves pulsing against the cliff’s edge and filling the air with salt.

It didn’t take her long to find Kenric, who lay back against the hard ground with his eyes closed. A stellarscope lay forgotten beside him, alongside a case of quintessence, almost full of bright bottles.

Unnerved, she moved to the other side of him; that much quintessence simply sitting there? Kenric was oh so careful, but the substance was too unpredictable to ever be safe.

And yet here she was.

“Kenric?” she asked, uncertain. He hadn’t moved, even though she certainly hadn’t been quiet.

The hand on his chest twitched, and his bright eyes found hers.

They looked…tired.

“Ora,” he answered, and it was as if a mask descended over him. Gone were the lines and exhaustion, now he smiled gently up as her, pushing to a sitting position. “Don’t worry over me--I see that crease in your brow. I was only resting my head to try and ease the blurriness.”

His smile widened, that crooked one that always made her heart beat twice as fast, but she didn’t believe him. “Did it work?”

He shook his head. “You’re all smudges--which is a shame. You have a lovely face.”

Now that it wasn’t through an imparter, there was definitely something wrong with his voice. Too thick? Too deep? Too worn?

And then she remembered she was supposed to say something back. “How many bottles do you have left?”

Something crossed his face she couldn’t identify, and she wanted to reach out to brush skin and feel exactly what it was. But she didn’t, and Kenric sat up straighter, entirely unaware of how his hair stuck out at the back from his repose as he turned to count.

“Four more--can you handle that?”

In spite of her concern, she scowled as indignation sparked. “Of course I can handle four bottles. I’m not fragile.”

“Of course you can,” Kenric agreed, running a hand through the copper of his hair--he wasn’t wearing his circlet, she realized. And he didn’t have a cape--didn’t he feel the cold? She could even through the thick fabric of her cape.

In the silence that fell, she stepped around him to pick the stellarscope up from where he’d left it; his hand reached toward it a moment later, as though he was going to get it for her, but had moved too slowly, and practically flinched away as he nearly bumped her arm.

Awkwardly retracting his hand, he blinked up at her. They were level, but only as she bent down; he’d stayed on the ground since she’d arrived, and it couldn’t be comfortable. She could see the flecks of green in the blue of his eyes, the lashes framing them as the red of his hair fell over his brow, the creases around his eyes, and the stars reflected in his pupils.

She realized she’d frozen looking at them, and heat bloomed deep in her chest.

“Phosforien and Marquiseire, correct?” She grabbed the accompanying bottling gloves, donning them as she straightened, hoping the slight distance would clear her head, that the chill of the night would wash away the flush she could feel spreading against her will.

It didn’t. If anything, the few feet between them intensified the charge as she stood over him reciting all the reasons she shouldn’t and couldn’t.

Kenric needed a moment as well, and his breath came heavy as he nodded. “Two of each, please.”

Oralie nodded, re-tucking that same stray ringlet back as she searched the sky; she’d called up her memories of the unmapped stars as she’d grabbed her cape, wanting to be prepared--if they could even be called her memories, since they’d been implanted in her head by a mind much sharper than hers when she’d accepted her circlet.

With careful precision she searched through the stellarscope, checking thrice she’d calibrated correctly before flicking the switch and filling the bottle she’d loaded.

The other three went just as smoothly, the only sound her roaring pulse as she worked; Kenric sat behind her--he’d asked if she’d minded, as he didn’t want to stand too soon and undo all the progress he’d made re-orienting himself; of course she hadn’t minded.

She tried her damndest not to squirm, even though she swore she could feel his eyes tearing bits and pieces of her away and draining her very essence.

Blinking away a heady flash of light with the final bottle of quintessence, she carefully placed all four into Kenric’s compartmentalized satchel alongside the other ten. Each divided section was thoroughly padded to keep the bottles from bumping together and increasing the risk of explosion.

As she crouched, resolutely not looking at him, her cape shifted. A cold breeze coiled around her and she shuddered, goosebumps raising on her arms as it washed over her so thoroughly it left her senses entirely blank.

And with it, her focus sharpened.

She’d been trying so hard not to be aware of him, she’d missed the signs--even though she’d known the moment he called something was wrong.

It wasn’t his eyes on her back she’d felt creeping and draining--or at least not entirely.

“You’re unwell,” she said, turning her head to look at him. And suddenly it was obvious--the shadows beneath his eyes and the flat line of his mouth, the heavy breaths and low voice, the fact the most he’d moved was to sit up when she’d arrived.

How he’d needed her to complete his starlight bottling, already entirely unable to see when there’d been hardly a dozen in the bag.

She could see him forming the defense in his mind, and sure enough, “It’s just a headache, Ora. A long day and intense starbottling. I appreciate your concern, but don’t worry your pretty head about it..”

Oralie scowled back. “Don’t patronize me. I can feel it, even from here.” She eyed the space between them.

She was a talented Empath--but she was valuable for her stellar interpreting abilities upon contact, not for being able to take readings without it.

If she could feel the bone deep weariness through the air…

“When will you learn you can’t lie to an empath?” she asked, shaking her head. And a sort of recklessness surged through her. “How did you even get sick? You look ugly. Come here.”

She lowered herself near him, the cold rock startling even through her clothes as she unfastened her cloak.

“Ora, you don’t--”

“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to let you sit there in the cold when you’re sick.” She shrugged off the cloak, and Kenric only mildly protested as she wrapped it tight around his neck--if she’d needed any more proof that he wasn’t himself, that was it.

The thick gradient pink fabric shimmered under the moonlight, embroidered with roses and lilies and entirely at odds with Kenric’s simple color-blocked attire. But he sagged ever so slightly beneath it anyways, reaching up to clasp it tighter around his neck as her warmth seeped into him.

He looked to her then, and raised a brow. “Did you say I looked ugly? Is it really that bad?”

And even though it was the middle of the night and goosebumps had started to erupt on her arm, and his discomforted exhaustion pulled at her very core, she flushed.

“I didn’t--”

He laughed, and it made obvious the thick crackle in his throat. “Relax, Ora. I’m only teasing. I know I’ve looked better.” He sat forward off his hand to rub it over his eyes, grimacing.

She wanted to argue for some reason, but…he wasn’t wrong.

A faint gleam of sweat had broken across his brow, and his fingers trembled where they held the cloak close at his neck.

“I’m taking you home,” she told him, making up her mind right there. He furrowed his brow, so she continued. “You have your quintessence--surely whatever it’s for can wait at least until morning, if not for a day or two for you to recover. I insist--I don’t want you handling anything potentially disastrously explosive when you can hardly see straight!”

Kenric shook his head slowly as she retrieved her pathfinder from her pocket, gloves making her fingers slip before she removed them as she began to adjust it for the coordinates she knew better than any other.

“That’s kind of you, Ora, but it’s unnecessary.” He began to unfasten the cloak, but she stopped him by pushing the satchel of quintessence into his lap alongside the stellarscope and gloves. He tried again. “I’ll manage, and you have better things to do than worry about me.”

“You don’t know that,” she shot back, successfully clicking the pathfinder into place and reaching for him; she made sure to touch only fabric, but even so the feeling of his sickness washed over her. “Concentrate--I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ora--” he began, but shut off and did as she asked as she held the crystal to the light, casting a beam over them to draw them away; she’d done it that way so he wouldn’t have a choice--either concentrate and go with her, or get drawn into the light for eternity.

Not that she would’ve ever let that happen to him; her concentration had been wrapped around him even tighter than around herself.

From the intent way he stared at her, brow furrowed, as they reappeared, for a moment she wondered if he’d been doing the same thing. The fool.

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” she told him, and he laughed again, softer.

Kenric began pushing to his feet, and despite the nausea and headache that’d pounded through her when she was only touching the cloak, she reached to help him in spite of herself.

She flinched when their hands touched, and he must’ve noticed, for he pulled away quick once he was steady as he could be.

He looked around at the castles towering over them, the arranged rocks that made up his front yard; they’d materialized on the path towards his door.

“You’re adorably stubborn,” he remarked as she turned to lead the way; she had no worries about him not following now. What else was he going to do? Walk away from her?

Sure enough, his footsteps followed behind as she opened his door--but they fell heavy and shuffling, and he was attempting to hide a grimace when she turned back to look at him. And then they stopped, and she peered over her shoulder to see him still at the bottom of the steps, staring at them.

It took a moment before she figured out the problem. “Oh, you’re ridiculous.”

She didn’t allow herself time to cringe away or hesitate as she alighted down the steps and linked her arm with his, taking some of his weight.

“Ora, you should go home,” he tried, but she wasn’t hearing it.

“You can hardly stand and you want me to leave you alone?” she hissed, jaw tight against the malaise flooding her. A cacophony of hurts and aches bruising inside her ribs, pressing foul heat against her heart, throbbing in her fingertips. She refused to let it win. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Never, when it comes to you.” The words were like a sigh as he let them slip and leaned against her, giving in.

She decided not to try and decipher what that meant as she led him inside and was faced with where, exactly, to put him.

The stairs would be unwise with his trembling even though his bedroom was up there, so she turned instead towards his greeting room.

The plush cushions were where he’d meet guests and visitors from the population, if he wasn’t always so busy with such random errands--what on earth could he need so much quintessence for?

She deposited him on the cushions, guilty at the relief it was to no longer feel his symptoms as she pulled away to seek out remedies. She was almost entirely out of the room before realizing she’d forgotten an important step

“Have you taken anything already?” she asked, all business as the most ludicrous pang had her wanting to touch him again. To feel his flushed heat, even as dizziness washed through her.

Kenric took a moment to reply, and when she looked back over at him he’d hunched; his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose tight, brow crunched intensely and mouth a thin, pale line.

He started and straightened as he realized she was still there, still watching.

As though he’d been allowing himself a moment of weakness, one she wasn’t meant to see.

“Ah…no,” he admitted, and had the wisdom to look sheepish, so she didn’t say anything as she turned away again to allow him his reprieve.

He thanked her politely upon her return, leaning back against the couch and more composed as he downed the few elixirs she’d brought. Simple things, but hopefully enough to tide him over until she could convince him to see a physician.

But she knew trying now would be fruitless, and she didn’t want to waste his energy when he clearly had so little--he may have been able to fool the others, but he was most assuredly not fooling her.

She’d watched him too closely for too many centuries.

And she realized with a start as he cleared his throat that she was doing it again.

“I’ll make you some tea,” she offered, searching for the first possible thing she could think of to break the silence.

Kenric had taken off her cloak now that they were inside, and shook his head again. “Truly, Ora. I’m fine--you’ve done more than enough tonight. Don’t let me bother you any longer and go home--you need to rest.”

It took her a moment to respond, but only because she almost couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You’re telling me to rest?” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest.

He tried again. “I know you always want to help--”

“Then shut up and let me.”

“I--”

“No!” she cut him off. “When you hail me in the middle of the night for help, you don’t get to suddenly take that back! You should’ve known I’d realize you were sick when you decided to hail me--that one’s on you. Now I’m going to get you a cup of tea, because it’s cold out and your voice sounds horrendous, if you’re done complaining that I’m doing what you asked.”

“That’s not fair, Ora,” he protested, moving as if to get up.

“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “And don’t even think about moving.”

She fumed silently as she turned on her heel, that damned ringlet falling into her face again as she made for his kitchen. She was never looking for a fight with him, but he always managed to poke and prod and rile her up in the most mundane of ways.

She took a few calming breaths as she set the water to heat, and it was starting to work--until she heard footsteps from the greeting room.

Indignant again, she rounded the corner back to him, ready to scold him.

He beat her to it, pausing in the hall with a hand on the wall. “I’m only going for a shower--unless that’s not allowed?” He raised a brow as he said it, a challenging look of amusement on his pallid face.

It brought her up short, and she blanked for a moment. “Of--of course that’s allowed. I’ll just...I’ll be down here,” she finished inelegantly as those green-flecked eyes teased hers.

“If you insist--I do love your company,” he said, maddeningly, as he continued to the stairs; the elixirs must’ve been taking effect, for he seemed to manage without too much trouble.

And then she flushed as he disappeared from sight, realizing she’d been staring at him again.

The night must’ve been getting to her.

The momentum of her now long-forgotten project had pushed her through, and then the rush of Kenric’s hail and the chill of Siren Rock.

But now, warm and unhurried in Kenric’s home, lethargy began to tug at her.

Water turned on overhead, and she had to fight a tingling feeling along her skin as she realized he was, right that moment, undressed just a flight above her.

Shocked by the direction of her own thoughts, she shoved them away and returned to the kitchen, deciding she could use a cup of her own to reorient herself.

She’d just tentatively taken a first sip, hoping it’d cooled enough not to burn her tongue, when Kenric had walked back in.

Stilling, she watched the water drip from the spikes of freshly washed hair, his skin now soft and dewy instead of damp and sweaty--though his color had only marginally improved. Still too wan, still lined, bags under his eyes even more prominent under the kitchen’s crystal lights than the moon’s soft glow.

His clothes stuck to his skin and bunched slightly, and relief flooded her as she saw the simple house attire; he wasn’t planning on leaving again.

Unless he was going to try and get rid of her before he changed and went out…

“Like what you see?” he teased as he took the other cup of tea still beside her on the counter, the one she’d prepared for him.

Her face heated as she scowled, and she tucked that stray ringlet away again. “You really should lie down--you’re exhausted. I can see it in how you move.”

His smile lessened, and he sighed before he took a sip. “You truly won’t let this go, will you?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

He leaned against the counter beside her, and something flickered through the malaise electric in the air between them--too quick for her to pick it up, but enough to have her on alert.

Turning, he searched her face, and she may as well have been laid bare for how much she was certain he saw. “I mean, Oralie, that you don’t need to stay. You’ve done more than enough for me already--you always do. But it’s late, and you must be exhausted. I can manage myself--I’ll listen to you, and I’ll take the night off. And I’ll even talk to Elwin in the morning. I’ve disturbed you enough for one evening.”

His voice remained low, his eyes still on hers, making it difficult to understand what he was saying.

And then it registered. She straightened, stiff. “I see I’ve overimposed myself. My apologies for not realizing--I won’t keep you from…whatever it is you need to keep from me any longer.”

She set the half-empty mug down that she’d forgotten she’d been holding, and turned away, ignoring the ache in her throat.

“That’s not--” Kenric started, but she cut him off.

“Then what is it, Kenric?” The defeated words burned, dangerously close to everything they weren’t allowed to talk about as she ached. “You say one thing and mean a million other and expect me to be able to parse it out? You say you want my help, and then send me away at the first opportunity. I find you barely able to see on the ground, and you worry if I can handle four bottles. What do you want?”

Silence fell for a heavy moment in the wake of her outburst, swallowing heavily; she was still looking at the door.

“Oralie,” he said, and she knew he was asking her to turn.

She didn’t.

“Oralie,” a plea. “Look at me.”

She wouldn’t.

And then footsteps, and he walked in front of her frozen pose.

Despite herself, she looked to him as he stopped in front of her, his hands reaching.

He hesitated a moment away from her hands, the open skin, but then he moved. Gentle over the fabric, he placed them over her arms, holding his breath as she flinched.

The elixirs had dulled the worst of it, but he wouldn’t be better without time.

“I’m sorry,” he began, quiet, earnest. “I didn’t mean it that way--I never meant to upset you. You can feel I’m telling the truth.” He was. “You’re too good to me, Oralie, you know? You’re so kind, and genuine, and helpful. I don’t want to take advantage of that--I’ll be alright, so I don’t want you wasting your goodness on me when you could be putting it into so many better things.”

“You asked me for help,” she reminded him, voice just as quiet.

“I did.”

“Then why are you trying so hard to push me away?”

She’d fought with him on practically every account since he hailed--even though he’d hailed her. Knowing she was capable and still trying to protect her, knowing he was unwell and unable and yet still trying to do whatever he could alone.

It was enough mixed signals, and it was late enough she could hardly bear their usual dance.

Her next question ached against her tongue. “Do you want me to go? Truly.”

Kenric’s eyes, which had been searching her face this whole time, fell closed. Pained.

He drew a breath, water still dripping from his damp hair, and confessed.

“No.”

The truth of the words rang through her where he still held her. And with it, all her anger drained, leaving only desolate longing she didn’t want to think about.

His fingers tightened around her arms, and he repeated it with a shake in his voice. “No, I quite like it when you stay.”

She knew how close they were pushing to things they shouldn’t talk about, and yet still she reached a hand to rest on his outstretched arm, bracing for the feelings.

She let them wash past her, passing her by without picking them up.

She shouldn’t, couldn’t.

She wanted to.

“No one would blame you for wanting company in your condition.” Her voice felt too light as she created the lifeline, an offer, an impossibility. Something they shouldn’t allow themselves, but that she longed for. Desperately.

And he wanted it too, so much it stole her breath.

“Of course they wouldn’t,” he agreed, slowly, the two of them watching themselves walk over the edge of a cliff they’d never return from. “I might do something unwise, after all.”

She could see it happening, knew this was her last chance to stop this mistake.

And yet she said, “We wouldn’t want that, of course.”

All there was left to do was enjoy the fall, before they hit the ground.

His hands loosened around her, slipping slightly as he exhaled, the weight of what they hadn’t said settling. Permanent.

And as her heart pounded, she damned them further.

She reached a hand out, tracing her fingers along his cheek and furrowing her brow at the heat. “I meant it when I said you should rest.”

And it was as if they both decided to never say a word about what they’d chosen for this night, the indulgence never to be acknowledged again.

“You always know best,” he agreed, leaning into it. His eyes fell closed and his brow softened, and they stood a moment longer.

“Come,” she said, fingertips light as she gently pulled. “Let’s get you settled.”

He followed as she led him up the stairs, past the still-steamy bathroom and to the living quarters she’d only been in a few times before.

They both winced when she snapped the lights on, and she quickly dimmed them.

Kenric’s sheepish embarrassment washed through her as she took in the state of the place; he’d been trying and not quite succeeding for years at keeping his personal space and his work space separate, and scrolls cluttered a significant portion of every surface available.

The bedspread was rumpled and bunched, left from however he’d rolled out of bed that morning--and he quite possibly had rolled, given that even stronger than the embarrassment was the mounting exhaustion.

She had no clue how he’d been able to push himself through the day.

She paid no attention to the mess as she drew them in further--she tried her best not to look at anything, not wanting to know.

Kenric said nothing as she let go of him, moving to the windows and propping them slightly.

Chill air slipped over her skin, a welcome relief from the staleness the walls had captured.

Without her prompting, Kenric had laid down--atop the covers, but laying down nonetheless. The bed seemed to swallow everything but the fevered brightness of his eyes as he watched her, but even as she watched, his eyelids started to flutter.

For some reason, it made her aware of how lopsided and frazzled her quick bun had become, so she reached up to untangle the tie and set it loose.

Kenric made a small noise, almost a hum. He lifted his hand then, an invitation.

Her heart stopped in her chest, and something in her screamed at them to stop, reminded her of just how much they weren’t allowed to want this.

But she took it anyway, and lowered herself to sit on his bed.

He was nearly asleep already, the poor thing. But still he whispered, “Thank you, Ora.”

She didn’t ask what he was referring to.

And as his eyes closed, she could’ve sworn they flickered to her lips, and a wave of…something, pulsed where they still touched. Too abstract and encompassing even for her to translate.

So she didn’t let herself try, dreading when they’d hit the ground.

She just let his hand hold hers, and watched his breathing settle as he stopped fighting himself.

And in that moment, she’d never been further from him.

Sitting on his bed, watching the lines of his face smooth and feeling the peace settling through him where they touched. Alone together with cool night air filling her lungs, everything she could not have prickled in the back of her mind.

The pillow was wet from his hair, and she wanted--oh, how she wanted--to trace the edge of his jaw, the line of his registry pendant over the smooth skin of his neck, to press her hand to his chest and feel his heartbeat. Reminding her over and over with its rhythm that he was alive, alive, alive.

But she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t do that to him--or to herself. To the countless people who needed her kindness to challenge the others’ fear and haste.

So she didn’t move, only breathed.

And tried to absorb every moment of this foolish, beautiful indulgence before it was gone.