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joz-yyh · 1 year

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Rust - Ch. 6

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: EXPLICIT (for violence / sexual themes)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / (Crusader x Highwayman -> established relationship) / (Grave Robber x Plague Doctor -> established relationship)

WORD COUNT: 7,493

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: Very important note, but this chapter contains another FLASHBACK.

I’ve been meaning to explore other ships/characters while Damian and Tardif are off doing their own thing so that means I’ll be adding in the Reymas sidestory I previously posted as well as some cute Grave Robber x Plague Doctor content.

There will also be a FLASHFORWARD towards end where I tease upcoming events. I’ll be sure to mark this segment appropriately.

Reynauld drags Dismas out for some quality time and smutty hijinks ensure. Audrey tries to dig up dirt on Tardif and Damian’s relationship by inviting the flagellant out to the cove for some one-on-one girl talk. The bounty hunter returns, but it’s not the same way when he left.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

“Hmm,” Reynauld mutters, gauntlet-clad fingers curled under his helmet in reserved contemplation.

His blue eyes survey the capricious wares of the nomad wagon, gold and silver chains strung up in a row, display boxes of brooches and other acquired oddities arranged beneath.

Presented with such antiquities, Reynauld by no means claims to be as knowledgeable as Josephine, but over time, he’s picked up a few tricks of the trade, appraising each of the pieces laid out before him, weighing their rarity and purpose.

“Just pick something already,” comes Dismas’ insurgent groan, his words swiftly accompanied by an impatient upheaval of his arms into the otherwise peaceful air.

You’d think the knight was downright torturing him, but then again, the highwayman was especially weak to boredom.

“Perhaps, I’ll check back another time,” the knight says, addressing the demure fortune teller running the shop.

“Seriously,” Dismas asks, his arms an inverse of the gesture he made before, incensed fingers spread open in a hollow fist by his knees.

The swordsman unfurls from the wagon window, having been bent into an investigative hunch whilst he perused the counter.

He raises a speculative eyebrow at his companion, the look of Dismas’ dark eyes telling him that he was being an insufferable pain.

“You drag me all the way out here just to spend all that time window shopping and now you’re not even goin’ to buy anything,” Dismas surges, the vein in his forehead giving a poignant twitch of anger.

The Romani woman smirks, resting her chin on the splay of her ringed fingers as she watches the lovers bicker like an old married couple. This is by far the most entertaining thing she’s seen all day.

The knight nods to himself, having made up his mind, “Yes, I really do think it’s best that I wait.”

In an expression of his inner turmoil, Dismas tilts his head back and heaves out a long, throaty groan.

Reynauld ignores him, bidding adieu to the raven-haired shopkeeper, their business concluded.

She winks at him in return, blowing a kiss and wagging her long nails, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, handsome.”

Dismas shoves his hands into his pockets as they set off towards the barracks, shoulders tense with aggravation, the fur on his jacket coming up to cover his wind-blown ears.

“Still can’t believe you made me wait all that time just so you could–” Dismas cuts himself off, recognizing the glimmer of treasure.

“Oh, you sly dog,” the highwayman whistles, regarding his partner with astonished pride, pulling down his neckerchief to showcase the shit-eating grin plastered across his scarred face, “You didn’t!

"I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” Reynauld says, the fluctuation of his tone much too fake and effervescent to be considered innocent.

“C'mon,” Dismas chuckles, nudging his elbow into the knight’s arm and wagging his eyebrows suggestively,“Confess.”

“The item had already been discarded when I discovered it,” Reynauld says, explaining the appearance of the inconspicuous trinket.

Dismas can spot bullshit from a mile away. Takes a thief to know a thief.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say sticky fingers,” Dismas jives, giving the crusader a smug look, the pronounced scars on his face seeming to extend his smirk even more.

Reynauld risks a glance, taking in the gold fillings that alight the man’s smile, making it more dazzling than it already is, just one of many endearing traits hidden behind the mask of his red scarf.

“It’s value would be better served to fund the church,” is the knight’s assertion, the gravelly baritone indicating that he was becoming annoyed with his partner’s games.

Dismas expects as much. Reynauld was running on a short fuse whenever his credibility was called into question.

“Oh, speaking of church, you went on a mission with that new guy, right? The one that flogs himself half to death. How was he? You two hit it off,” the thief asks.

The knight turns to the highwayman, burning with jealousy, the emotion tangible behind the slots in his helmet “Why the sudden interest in him?"

Dismas snickers to himself, facing forward now to avoid the fire in his partner’s eyes, "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he’s the new thing in town and the folks here don’t have enough to gossip about. Figured you might have the inside scoop on him.”

Rey deadpans, growing more frustrated with each passing minute, “Day by day, we stake our lives against corruption and yet you say there’s nothing more pressing to talk about other than a stark raving lunatic?”

“Yes,” Dismas replies with a shaky uncertainty, posing the word as a question.

Reynauld makes a caustic sound of disgust,“I thought it was surely a joke when I heard the Order accepted the aid of such extremists. It’s disgraceful. Unorthodox.”

Dismas’ eyes widen, caught off guard by his friend’s uncanny ferocity, especially when it came to a fellow believer of the Light.

“So… you’re not a fan then,” the highwayman concludes.

Reynauld barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he jests, voice aimed skyward, the exemplative sounding much louder when he realizes that his motley companion is not laughing along with him.

“Is it not the same for you,” the knight asks, fixing his partner with a perplexed look of surprise, his criticism hanging heavy in the space between them.

“Well,” the squirrely man drawls, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really met the guy and I am not one to judge. Wouldn’t want to make assumptions. Haha, that holy book you keep trying to drill in my brain must finally be rubbing off on me.”

Reynauld stops dead in his tracks, but Dismas doesn’t catch on until a few paces later, reciprocating the action once he learns that he’s left the other behind.

A possessive kind of stare is brewing behind the darkness of the swordsman’s helmet, one that worries the highwayman into thinking that this light-hearted teasing of his has gone a bit too far, crossing some invisible line in the sand.

Dismas returns to the balking crusader’s side, ducking around him playfully to show he meant no harm.

“Don’t worry, big guy, you’re the only churchboy I am after,” the thief reassures him, putting on a lopsided smile, giving the knight a light jab against his pauldrons.

Rey doesn’t budge, not even a twitch of good humor, a prosecution of sins unrectified. With an aura of predatory malaise, the knight advances on him, gripping a fistful of his jacket, enough that the gunman can hear the threads squeak from the strain.

The red-nosed bandit is lifted, boots nearly gliding off the ground as he’s dragged along by the collar.

“H-hey! Rey,” Dismas tries nervously, breaking out into a cold sweat, “barracks are t-that way.”

“I know where the barracks are,” the knight declares, leading the smaller man towards the stone bridge with determined, self-righteous steps, “We’re taking a detour."

Dismas feels a knot twist his stomach, not daring to resist as he’s led past the gray cinderblocks of the abutment and down through the small ditch of grass.

There might have been a thriving river here at one point, but like most things in this backwater town, it’s long since dried up.

Safely hidden beneath the arch of the voussoir overpass, the swordsman finally releases him, shoving him towards a collection of old supply crates growing musty from the elements.

The highwayman reaches out to stop himself from collapsing into the mud, gloved hands hugging onto either side of the wooden box.

Despite Reynauld taking him by the scruff and distributing him here, Dismas finds that he’s the one panting from exertion, pinpricks of warmth crawling up his neck, his cheeks burning red.

Pinching his eyes shut, he collects himself with a few deep breaths, flipping himself around to confront the overzealous crusader.

The knight is already standing so close, knee to knee with their bodies almost touching and Dismas shrinks more firmly against the sharp angle of wood at his back.

"What exactly is going on inside that big head of yours,” the highwayman teases, a heavy blush upon his face, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking a bit jealous crusader.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say the moment that the words leave his mouth, but he wasn’t thinking with his mind anymore.

“The Light demands recompense. I’ll be taking it from you,” Reynauld decrees, hands tugging at the belt that secures his surcoat into place.

Dismas’ telltale heat intensifies, his body well-versed in the heady string of events, his cock swelling inside the confines of his trousers.

The knight pushes his partner down, the smaller man’s back completely molded to the square block of wood, the boards giving a disruptive creak from the added pressure.

Dismas doesn’t protest when a gloved fist pries at the belts on his vest, spreads it open none too kindly, his shirt following the same fate, the fabric pulled from his trousers and pushed under his chin.

The outlaw shivers as the cool night air penetrates his feverish skin, his intentions fraying and exposed, groaning with anticipation.

The visor on Reynauld’s helmet is raised, dark brown locks of hair hanging above crystalline eyes, the man’s beard grazing over wiry muscle as he leans down to suckle an overt nipple.

Dismas gives a hearty tremble then a hiss, Rey’s teeth and tongue working the nub into an unbearable hardness while the other is fondled mercilessly with his thumb.

“Mmrmph, Rey,” gunman begs breathlessly, head tilted back, eyes closed as he concentrates on the sensation.

“Careful Dismas, you’re beginning to echo,” the taller man teases, his words both a warning and a command as he reaches for the highwayman’s belt and all of it goes straight to the ex-con’s groin.

There’s a clatter of something or someone coming from the pier above, jostling them both out of their blissful ministrations.

Rey puts a gloved hand over his lover’s mouth, not trusting him to stay quiet even under these circumstances.

Their uninvited guest is none other than the town crier, sloshing about with a bottle of booze, singing off key as he stumbles along the railway. Strange how they hadn’t heard his approach before, but they listen tentatively now, the trickle of something being spilled off the side of the bridge.

Reynauld meets Dismas yearning gaze, pressing a finger to his own lips in a bid to remain silent and the damned gunman decides it’s a good idea to lick his palm.

Dismas both loathes and loves his decision because his partner grunts, thrusting their clothed bodies together in reparation, the hand against his face squeezing tighter to seal his tongue away.

The drunkard above relieves a startled, “huh,” as he spins around, looking for the source of the noise, but finds the path clear. The hefty weight of footsteps and the clank of glass resumes, continuing onward, the sound of jumbled lyrics gradually fading away.

“You conniving little street rat,” the knight reprimands, taking his hand away so the other can speak his amends.

Dismas just grins at him, mischievous, wanting to continue where they left off.

“Should’ve left you at home,” Rey says more sweetly, “This is what I get for bringing you along.”

The religious sod holds out his hand, letting the trinket unravel from his fingers to dangle above Dismas’ bare chest. Before him spins a silver band fashioned to a convergence of twin guns, pinned by a pair of hawk wings.

It’s almost too much for Dismas’ lust-buzzed mind to comprehend.

"Huh? But didn’t you say–”

“I know what I said,” declares the knight in that deep reverberating voice of his, so solid and firm, just like the rest of him,“It would be better spent on the church. Don’t make me regret giving it to you."

The swordsman is breathing heavily, sweat collecting on his brow, a morbid glare in his bright eyes, though there’s another more tender emotion swirling behind it.

Dismas’ ink-set pupils twinkle in that special way that the crusader lives to see, a characteristic only meant for intimate exchanges like these.

"Well, shucks crusader. I didn’t know you cared,” he taunts, angling his head down in that sultry smolder he knows the other man can’t get enough of, arching one of his dark brows in a clear challenge for more.

“Don’t play with me Dismas,” Reynauld warns, spitting into his free hand, “you should know by now what happens when you do.”

He spreads the meager globs of saliva with a few languid pumps of his hand, erection slick enough to fulfill its purpose, positioning himself against his partner’s core, adding another drop onto where the two of them meet.

“Mmm, yeah … yeah I do,” Dismas moans, biting his lip, eyebrows flicking up to his hairline as he feels that hot length press between his legs ,“why do you think that I ahhhh– by the Light Rey–”

It’s painful and he’s under-stretched, but Dismas doesn’t care, he wasn’t willing to wait. He latches onto his lover’s hips as that holy lance drives into him, moaning out just how much he wants this.

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me just like that,” the ravenette sings, the discomfort a hazy afterthought.

Right now, this glorious knight in shining armor was his and the rugged ex-con wanted to wear that fact like a brand, to feel the touch of their bodies long after the spell of desire has cooled.

“Dismas, what have I told you,” the knight whispers, an azure gaze beholding him with incorrigible fondness.

“That you love me,” the highwayman says, grinning ear to ear.

Reynauld shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“Yes, and what else,” the knight insists, running his hand through the greasy strands of unruly black hair.

“Rey, please,” Dismas begs, needing him to move, wrapping encouraging legs around his waist.

In nostalgic reverence, the knight trails his fingers down to the scars on his lover’s mouth, those harsh lips parting to grip the digit between his teeth, biting at it lightly.

“You’re too reckless,” the swordsman reminds him, pulling his hand away to retrieve the spoils of tonight’s excursion. “Will you wear it,” the knight asks, trinket captured in his fist as he trails the blunt edges of it over the sharpshooter’s agile front down to his lithe stomach.

“Hmm,” the gunman hums, dizzy with pleasure, the chill of metal raising the hairs on his skin. “Yeah, ‘cours I will. But only if you promise to fuck me again, just like this,” Dismas breathes, grateful to feel the man inside him, the savage friction of their flesh better than any vice he knew.

“It would be my pleasure,” Reynauld says, a kingly smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

Dismas melts under those holier-than-thou lips, forgets about being chaste as his muscles relax around the generous length that splits him open with each hallow thrust. He pulls the man in closer, hands grasping at the back of his helmet, needing more of that abstained tongue and voice, wanting everything this man would give him.

Later, when both of them are sated and dressed, Dismas looks down at the necklace Reynauld had given him, marveling at the pendant in his hand and the charming resemblance it held to his own set of pistols.

The highwayman walks a little closer, their shoulders brushing as he leans his head onto the metallic chrome of a battle-worn spaulder, their hands clasped between them, silver and red embracing each other tightly.

He promises never to take it off.

——–

Knee-high boots step stealthily around the abbey, pilfering hands guiding the cunning grave robber along as she skirts the concrete at her back, eyes peering around the corner of the penance hall.

Strangely the flagellant is outside his pious chamber, knelt down next to a series of graves bearing the names of clergymen, tending to the onset of spring weeds.

Nothing beautiful lasts in Hamlet. The colorful blossoms of flowers are a luxury rarely seen and aside from the few modest patches of turf marked by trimmed hedges and somber statues of saints passed, the Abbey doesn't have much of a garden.

The silent sleuth stands to her full height, this scene calling for a more personable approach.

"Hey, Damian," Audrey calls, gentle and grounded, waving at him sweetly as she steps through the teasings of grass.

The holy man jolts at her presence, a decade of people watching telling her that his mind is miles away, deep in thought.

"Audrey, good to see you," Damian replies, twisting around to meet her casual demeanor. He discards the overgrowth of roots in his hand, brushing the soil from his robe as he rises to his feet.

Her sharp eyes notice the vibrant yellow of plucked dandelions and the delicate white of queen anne’s lace placed upon the crowns of these simple headstones and she feels a distant pang of sympathy.

"What brings you here? Have you come seeking the path of Light," he says, smiling.

Audrey shoots him a saucy grin in return.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not why I am here. You get points for persistence, though,” she giggles softly, the sound warming her throat.

The holy man deflates when he hears this, his altruism giving her too much credit if he truly believed she would ever devote herself to a lifestyle of prayer and prudence.

"Then, how is it that I can help you,” he asks, his countenance suffering, looking more ragged at the disappointing news.

Damian really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but there’s something else eating at him, Audrey can tell by the grimace hiding just below the surface, the slack of his seemingly gracious front.

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me out to the cove? That is, if you're not too busy," she asks, her upturned fingers pointing at what remains of his apparent yard work.

“As humbled as I am to hear your request, wouldn't it be wiser to have a group of us go," the priest suggests, leaning further towards suspicion.

So, the flagellant is not as dim-witted as she heard, but then again, the shrewd thief didn’t make it very hard for him to figure out her motivations were far from noble.

"This isn't exactly an official mission," the lady explains, "You know all those slimy fishmen we made into sashimi last week? I got it on good authority that the tide is about to wash up a hoard of treasure from their vault."

Having no interest in wealth and riches, Damian doesn't look any more convinced by her proposal.

This called for a change of strategy.

Her direct approach might have been a bust, but maybe some open-ended honesty blended with a bit of flattery could steer the conversation in her favor.

"OK, you got me,” she says, holding her hands up in arrest, “I know you'd just use your share for charity anyhow, but if it's just split between the two of us, we won't have to divvy up the profits let's say … any more than 60/40."

Damian sighs in disappointment. This request of hers reeked of greed and selfish intentions at best.

"C'mon pleeeease," she begs, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her sniveling face, "There's no one else to ask and you're so good at making all the bad guys bleed."

The flagellant had allowed the ex-matriarch to plead her case and while he disagrees with her ideology, he doesn't want the woman traversing the arduous dens of merfolk alone. Should anything untoward happen to her, whether it was in the name of profit or not, he would feel wholly responsible.

"Very well," he sighs, acquiescing, already regretting his decision, though he knew this burden was one he had to shoulder til the end.

"Excellent," She cheers, clasping her hands in delight, crocodile tears suddenly extinguished in light of her success, "Shall we be off, then?"

"I will meet you at the crossroads," Damian says, his gaze now turned towards the church, pensive as the sun shines its beacon over the campanile, "I must let the abbot know of my absence."

—--

Reposed against the sturdy trunk of a tree, Audrey waits in the dark stretch of woods just off the beaten path, safely hidden from view.

Though the streets had been reasonably quiet (as it normally was after a gentle tide), she wasn't about to stand out in the open with a target on her back, trail bereft of carriages and foot traffic be damned.

The grave robber kills time by giving herself a manicure, wheedling the sharp edge of her dagger under her fingernails, somehow never getting them completely free of sediment, the black rings of soil forever embedded into her skin.

With a flicker of movement from up the way, the hood of Damian's holy saunter comes into view. His approach is not the most soft-footed, nor is the rattle of his flail, but Audrey's keen ears picked it up all the same.

She pockets the knife, glad that this boorish interlude was over, striding up the hillbank to meet him.

The flagellant stops, the cloak of illusion fading before his eyes, the rogue's impressive skills of subterfuge making her appear out of nowhere, the environment bending to her candlestein whims.

"About time you showed up, holy man," Audrey jeers, prickly, "Don't you know it's bad manners to keep a lady waiting?"

"Apologies," the flagellant huffs, not willing to dive deeper into the matter.

She clicks her tongue at his reluctance, scoffing at his frowning face.

"One of these days, I am going to get you to lighten up around me," the grave robber asserts, arms crossed in a sassy, cockeyed pose.

He gives her an injured look in return, unable to commit to such a possibility in the foreseeable future.

"OK, let's just put a pin in it for now," she resigns, bleakly tagging it on a metaphysical bulletin board.

"Anyways, you ready to go,” the woman asks, dropping a hand onto her hip, the other raised to usher in their departure.

The flagellant solemnly nods his accord and Audrey grins, leading the way.

The grave robber lets the silence hang between them for a few more paces, her lure not working as perfectly as predicted, but Damian was here, an unwitting informant, and that's all she really needed.

The holy man is not quite walking evenly beside her, but trails slightly behind and it's probably a smart move on his part, though pure vigilance wouldn't stop her from springing a trap if she truly desired, indeed one was already set.

According to her sources, the gruesome newbie never shuts up, an endless stream of religious chatter and unwelcome blessings, but so far the flagellant was not at all the intrusive nuisance she'd been led to believe.

Could it be subjective? Or perhaps this was a phase, an after effect of whatever has been weighing on his mind.

Audrey must debunk such discrepancies, her investigation far from over.

The grave robber clears her throat, parsing the air for a segway of idle chit-chat.

“Given that we have a bit of a walk ahead of us, mind if I ask you something," she broaches, an impish smirk playing out on her ruby red lips.

“If you must,” he replies with a wince, playing along, but bracing himself for the worst of what she could ask him.

Best to cut right to the chase then.

"So … you and the bounty hunter, huh," she ventures, casually dropping the sensitive topic as easily as striking a fuse.

Dread builds like lard in his stomach, the holy man's cadence becoming jittery, head downcast as he processes her incriminating words.

The flagellant had had an inkling about this "off the record," outing, and now the full scope of her conniving plot was clear. This trip was merely a pretense to delve into his personal affairs and satisfy her own curiosity.

"The bounty hunter and I what," he inquires innocently, head tilted towards the clouds.

"Exactly what I meant,” she insists, “What is it about him that's got you chasing the man out into the night like a lovesick puppy?"

Damian withdraws, sinking further into himself, reliving the sequence of events.

Audrey has all the necessary tact for subtly, but being blunt was so much more fun. She blames such proclivities on Dismas. The highwayman was just as prone to mischief and drinking as she was, their late night benders fueling their shenanigans to new heights, egging each other on with evermore daring stunts.

It might have worked against her in this instance, the holy man becoming more reserved.

“Just making conversation,” Audrey adds, shrugging, lowering the stakes.

“He has great potential," Damian muses, finding his answer, "I hope to illuminate his path."

It sounds too safe, too rehearsed and Audrey isn't buying it.

"Uh-huh, suure," the grave robber drawls, her voice dripping with apparent sarcasm, "Care to try again? Except this time, give me the uncensored version."

The hooded man fixates himself with the ground beneath his feet, fingers rubbing along his lip in contemplation.

"He ... ," the flagellant begins, assessing and reassessing his words with a scowl, "he may also be ... a bit … c-cute."

The mere mental image alone shaves years off of Audrey's life. That man had no business being associated with the term, "cute," or any synonym remotely resembling it.

"Wa–wa--wa–wait, wait, wait – are we talking about the same guy here," she asks, completely mortified, "Mister short, broody and mysterious? You think that that's … cute?"

"It's his helmet …," the flagellant goes on to explain, the woman's bombardment of questions making him flustered over his own point of view, " it ... reminds me of an owl. Birds are ... cute, are they not?"

"You can't be serious," she breathes more to herself, mouth agape, utterly dumbfounded, "I've met cadavers more personable than him."

"Perhaps," Damian concedes, forcing a smile that's gone as quickly as it comes, running a hand between the spikes of his collar, gripping the tension in his neck, holding onto it like a tether.

Conveniently, they've arrived at the beach, Damian having no trouble transitioning to the amorphous terrain, walking barefoot as he is. Audrey, on the other hand, struggles to navigate through the shifting sand dunes, fit for more rugged landscapes.

Such petty trifles are soon forgotten, the blonde bandit spotting a bountiful chest washed up near the sea shore.

The woman stops, turning to her companion with a smirk.

"Race ya," she wagers, before taking off like a bullet, the force of her sprint kicking up peels of sand.

Damian is left at the start, barely registering there's been a bet before he finally makes a move, the grave robber more than a good lead ahead and he doesn't have the heart to try besting her.

Approaching the finish line, Audrey gives a celebratory little twirl, looking behind her to see where the competition stood. There was no contest, her agile strides assuring her first place, slamming her hand down on the soggy trunk in a sweep of victory.

"C'mon, what was that," she teases, a little out of breath, but not too disappointed with the results, "you let me win."

"The treasure is rightfully yours," he says, catching up to her.

"How about I give you an extra 15% as a consolation prize," she offers, laughing at his expense, "Since you were such a good sport."

"Why, Audrey," he jokes, sounding coy, "how uncharacteristically generous of you."

The stab of his comeback makes her flush, though she can't be too mad. She did invite him to loosen up earlier.

"Yeah, save it church boy," the woman snips, walking around towards the latch of the chest, "You telling me you've never wanted to buy anything just for yourself?"

Damian's cast shadow spills over her as she lifts the lids, the sparkle of gold inside just as brilliant as the sun dancing on the waves.

"I only take what is necessary to survive," the flagellant tells her, looking away from the crate of spoils and towards the ominous cliff rocks that mark the cove beyond, crossing his arms.

"Your self-sacrificing nonsense is killing me," she pouts, her body wilting dramatically against the doubloons inside, piling them closer to her breast in comfort.

"A life of piety can be incredibly fulfilling, if you let it," he counters, getting defensive, thinking his companion could afford to be more frugal.

"I’ll take your word for it," Audrey scoffs, preferring her life just as it was, finding a beautiful silver hand mirror amidst the loot.

Getting an idea, Audrey rakes her gloved hands through the heaps of gemstones and gold, seeking necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

She dresses herself in a glamor of jewelry, strings of pearls poised around her neck, a few larger carat rings to hug her lonely fingers. Fit for a ball, the grave robber admires her new look in the mirror, an ugly reflection of her past staring back at her.

Audrey frowns, lowering the looking glass back into the chest, along with the jewels, locking the contents away.

"Anyway, real talk," Audrey says, quick to change the subject, "Are you going to tell him?"

"Hmm," the morbid priest exclaims, not following her train of thought, concentrating on their surroundings and the gentle rise and fall of the tide.

"The bounty hunter. Did you tell him how you feel," the bandit asks, sitting herself upon the sealed trunk, hands spread leisurely at her sides, legs crossed in the sand, "Did he say he's got a thing for you too?"

Damian goes quiet, fidgeting with his collar to quell his nervousness, but such actions only give him away.

"I already have made my intentions known as best I can," he admits, tone despondent, "though it matters not,” he says more quietly, frustrated in his attempts, but still refusing to give up.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," the grave robber says, trying to raise the man’s confidence, "Tardif is a tough nut to crack. Give it time. l think you have a shot at winning him over."

Eyeing the flagellant from top to bottom, Audrey grins wickedly at how perfectly suited these two single bachelors were. One man so in love with pain while the other is in love with causing it. A match made in heaven.

"You certainly have the right kind of body for a guy like that," she concludes, clicking her tongue, firing off a finger gun and a wink.

Damian seems to be bursting into flames as he considers this, his whole body going a shade redder than usual (which was saying a lot).

"May we please drop the subject," the man pleads, averting his gaze and rubbing at his neck again, his collar feeling too tight.

"What's the worst that could happen," she continues, her lips ignorant of his request, carrying on with a lackluster shrug of her shoulders, "He strangles the life out of you for daring to ask him out on a date?"

Damian chuckles modestly, remembering how almost every encounter with the bounty hunter had usually ended with him being tied up or pinned down. He swallows thickly at the prospect, growing hotter at the thought of that man’s hands around his throat.

"I’d bet you'd let him, wouldn't you," suggests her incriminating alto, watching him stew below the brim of her hat, pressing for more tawdry responses, entertaining as it was.

"Hmm," comes the bemused hum and Audrey's not sure if it's an affirmation or not, but she's already got all the evidence she could possibly need, even without his outright confession.

"Then, how about this? You helped me out today so I'll put in a good word for you," the gentlewoman offers, mischievousness abound as she rises to her feet.

"Audrey," he warns, a resounding petition, "You will do no such thing."

"Not that you could stop me," she reminds him, more than capable of playing cupid on her own, "but if that's what you want …"

"Yes, it is. Thank you," he says in relief, more grateful for this act than the 15% commission she had offered him earlier.

Audrey's arms hang out at her sides, marking his loss, her match-making expertise denied. "Well, if you really want to thank me," she taunts, always the betting type, "then show me how much treasure you can carry, hot stuff."

"More than you," he grins cheekily, happy to exchange this feat of physical labor for her discretion.

"That's the spirit," the lady thief cheers, patting him on the shoulder as he bends to lift the heavy coffer now bound for Hamlet.

Audrey gives the holy man a head start as they make their way back, strolling behind him as she reviews her findings, coming to the conclusion that the flagellant wasn't such a bad guy to be around.

Odd, certainly, but no less so than the bounty hunter and while they were all guilty of at least one undesirable quirk or another, Damian was simply more transparent about his shortcomings.

Spying an "enemy" about to disrupt their path, (more like a harmless crab minding it's own business) the thief springs into action. She snatches up the scuttling crustacean (a carapace of relatively normal size), hurling it back into the ocean before Damian's toes fall victim to it’s pincers.

---

Para sighs, a self-dejected tragedy spoken from behind the changing wall.

"Can't believe I left my lab for this," the intellectual whines, groaning as they brace themselves against the trifold panel, Audrey cinching the corset around their waist a notch tighter.

“Hey, I let you play mad scientist all morning," the ex-aristocrat tuts, pulling on the well-worn strings mercilessly, "Now it's time for you to play fancy dress up with me."

With great effort, the shape-wear flattens against the plague doctor's ribcage, their waist line so tightly constricted that they've broken a sweat. “Are you trying to kill me,” the brunette snarls, gritting their teeth, “What part of this is supposed to be fun?"

"None of it," Audrey affirms with a grin, having the same inane tradition practiced on her more times during her debutante life than she can count, "Not for you, dear. This is all for me.”

The grave robber ties the final knot, securing the shape wear into place (not that her girlfriend's petite figure needed slimming), but this was less about cosmetic enhancement and more about formalities.

“OK, time for the dress,” Audrey declares, brimming with excitement. She strips the mannequin of the velvet gown, a beautiful bliaut of emerald and gold filigree, a perfect compliment to Para's exceptionally dark hair and pale skin.

“Turn and hold onto my shoulders. Then, I’ll have you step into it,” the grave robber instructs, ruffling the neckline as she lays the frock open on the floor, pooled around their feet.

Para does as they're told, watching on as their thin legs are swathed in yards of elaborate fabric, the blonde handmaiden admiring the white undergarments and the matching bustier as she rises up to adjust the fit on the arms, smoothing out the sleeves to accommodate her girlfriend’s much daintier shoulders.

The erotic shiver climbing through boxy-shaped hips doesn't escape Audrey’s notice, the presence of her warm breaths making goosebumps appear on a porcelain neck as she rounds out the gown, buttoning it up at the back.

"There,” the thief exclaims, running her hand over the bodice, “let's see how the front looks on you."

"Why am I doing this again," Para whines, their soul threatening to leave their body, crammed inside a gilded prison as it was.

"Cuz I told you Damian had a thing for Tardif and I was right,” Audrey eagerly reminds the brunette, “Now you gotta pay up.”

Stiffly, the tomboy turns to face their girlfriend, arms held comically out to their side, compensating for a hoop skirt that wasn’t even there. The plague doctor still tries to hunch, though the fabric is fighting to keep them upright, their posture slightly improved. Despite this, the dress runs a little long, (understandably, since it once belonged to Audrey), but the seamstress could easily tailor it to match a hem of shorter height.

"You look stunning in dark green," the blonde remarks, her breath stolen by such untapped beauty. Para is a vision, a romantic tableau if only they would allow themselves to be styled with these splendid accessories more often, Audrey soaking in the portrait of regality for all it’s worth.

"Thanks, I hate it,” the scholar grumbles, shattering the charming fantasy, “Can I take it off now?”

"Not til you have a drink with me," Audrey declares, removing the wide bifocals from Para’s nose, basking in the rare sight of their frank, unfiltered face. The appearance of fine lines and bruising under their tired eyes spoke of an taxing work regimen and some much needed recreation.

“Aaaudreeeeyyyy,” Para wails, extending her name like a berating curse, “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t see without my glasses.”

The scholar blinks, squinting helplessly, their whole equilibrium off balance, wriggling hands out in front of them for depth of field.

“Shhh, darling you’re just near-sighted,” Audrey reminds them, depositing the spectacles in her jacket pocket for safe keeping. “Here, rely on me,” the blonde says, grasping a small hand inside her own, heralding the plague doctor towards the opposite side of the study.

Para sighs, trudging along at a snail's pace, “Alcohol is going to set back my workflow. I've been experimenting with a contagion and I am so close to devising a–"

The plague doctor cuts themselves off as they’re released, stranded in the carpet of the foyer. Audrey's disappearance is followed by the clink of crystal, the grave robber’s fuzzy shadow no doubt retrieving a set of drinking glasses and a long-necked bottle from the cabinet, fixing the mopey scientist with a look when she returns.

"Fine," Para agrees, rolling their head back with the power of their scoff, knowing Audrey would not budge, "one drink.”

"Marvelous,” Audrey chirps, setting the glasses down on the lace doilies of a mahogany coffee table, “I'll pour!"

Somehow, one drink has turned into two and then three.

Para is now wedged into the corner of an antique couch, their face flush and propped up on the pedestal of their hand while Audrey, conversely, is laying supine in their lap, being fed sweets like a queen.

The grave robber’s hat had been thrown lucratively sometime during the second drink, her ascot as well hangs loosely around her collar, boots stripped so that her long legs could spread themselves out on the cushions. A numbness creeps into the scholar’s legs, the bandit's head nestled comfortably on them as it was, and Para shuffles to instigate blood flow, dropping another chocolate into the waiting mouth below.

"We should invite Josie over,” the blonde thief muses, savoring the rich taste on her tongue, “And Missy… and Margie.”

Para sighs, their introverted tendencies put off by the thought, "You know how I am about large gatherings."

"But I like them," Audrey whines, pouting up at her unmasked girlfriend through long wisps of hair.

"Yes, you do," the scholar agrees, their head drooping further into their hand, adverse to the memory.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Audrey assures with a drunken giggle.

Suddenly, the blonde bandit is up, wrapping arms around her girlfriend’s neck in excitement, eager to share her stupendous ideas, "There will be tea and gossip and lots of fancy cakes!"

"Oh, joy…," the plague doctor drones, none of these bribes sounding quite as appealing to them.

"Pleeeease? If you do this for me, I'll get you that thing you want,” the thief offers, her green eyes teasing in the lamplight, “You know, that thing you've had your eye on now for a while now."

Para’s ragdoll expression perks up, suddenly interested in what this favor could mean for their research, "Can you really pull it off?"

"Mmm-hmmm," purrs Audrey, nodding with a goofy smile, "If I can win the flagellant over, I can win anyone over, darling."

"OK," Para agrees, much more enthusiastic about the idea of a get-together now, "We’ll throw a party, but only if you can convince Bigby to come.”

"Deal," Audrey squeals in delight, throwing her hands legs out in celebration, sealing their wager with a kiss.

--- FLASHFORWARD*

Damian keeps himself busy, fulfilling whatever minuscule task is asked of him, always listening for news, clinging to hope that the bounty hunter will one day return.

Too many moments pass, the flagellant entertaining the idea of abandoning everything, renouncing his solemn duty in a quest to retrieve the stubborn ox, going so far as to ask Paracelsus what they knew, but even they can only offer conjectures towards a wayward soul’s absence.

Toiling with emotions of longing and grief, Damian decides to visit the cabin once more in solace. He breaks inside, climbing through the boarded windows, the axe he finds stuck in a tree an accomplice to this forced entry.

The flagellant can’t remember why he's come back to this place, not when he’s consumed by memories, his fits of turmoil climbing higher, becoming more manic, berserk. He means to find some clue, a direction, believing it must be there if only he scours for it hard enough.

The blonde spends half the day looking, noting that Tardif had not parted with all of his belongings, some things forgotten that perhaps would not have been if he had truly left for good.

Such emptiness, such wishful fallacy causes him to seek the absolution of his flail. So engrossed in his punitive discipline, he doesn’t notice the clatter of something at the door, not until an explosive bang brings lucidity to his senses.

Instantly, Damian is on his feet, reaching for the latch, knowing in his heart who it must be on the other side.

The wood slams open like a crack of thunder, the winds strong and howling in the night sky, the shadow of the man standing before him nothing short of a ghost.

Tardif.

The bounty hunter is stripped to tatters, armor shredded in more places than the flagellant can count.

Half his helmet is missing, though his skull is still intact, crimson streaking down his face like war paint.

Damian doesn’t have to ask what happened, the unspoken question is reflected in every feature of his face, fear for his partner's life contorting it even further.

“Let … my guard … down,” says the gruff voice, refusing to reveal more whether it would be to his benefit or not.

The stubborn mercenary shuffles closer, a weak hobble that goes completely limp, his legs giving out as he collapses forward, losing what strength he had left to stand.

The flagellant scrambles to catch him before he hits the floor, holding onto his mangled shoulders, taking the brunt of his weight into his possession.

Tardif leans into him, having nowhere else to go, letting the blonde gingerly guide him down.

"I-it's OK now," Damian stutters, trying to convince himself of his own reassurances, "I-i've got you."

Laid out on his back, head cradled safely in his partner's hand, the mercenary's eyes close, grateful to finally rest, though his labored breaths say otherwise.

Damian knows the damage done to his fallen comrade is great, but he must find the worst of it, the scourge of his condition. He cannot waste his energy on effigies, clutters of imitations that mimic a grim fate if there was any chance of saving him.

Pale fingers start with the head wound, a ghastly blossom, deep and circular like a leeche's bite. It's serious, but not what ebbs at the bounty hunter's life.

Following the trail of blood, treading down his neck and jaw with feather light inspections, the flagellant is marveled by the miracle that Tardif still clings to consciousness despite the depth of pain.

"Stay with me," the priest urges, his voice weak with worry, yet tempered with resolution.

Instead of a grunt, Tardif manages a feeble huff, growing weary, head lolling in Damian’s grip.

The flagellant wants to redouble his efforts, move swiftly, but he needs the focus of a stable hand, passing over the integrity of Tardif’s overworked heart and the streams of lacerations with forced moderation. He reaches the girdle of the brute’s utility belt, blood caked so heavily against the gambeson one would think it was carved from red stone, perceiving the mortal wound beneath.

“I-I need to remove this,” Damian tells him, shaking terribly, his voice like broken glass as he looks over his partner's convulsing body, torn apart by injury.

“No,” demands the bounty hunter, his voice wet and garbled, hacking through another spasm of blood.

Even through the harsh battery of torn speech, Damian understands, but that doesn't mean he will listen.

4 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

The POTC AU is continuing, and with it, the reveal of the Brethren Court at Shipwreck Cove! Above we have six out of our seven Pirate Lords -- you’ll be meeting all of them in this section one by one, but to list them off, we have Merula Snyde; Arjun Singh (pictured with Aishwarya Mehra) @hogwarts9; Ellie Hopper @that-ravenpuff-witch; Jacob “Black Jack” Cromwell Roberts; Orion Amari; and Jae Kim.

Merula’s outfit is modeled slightly off of Angelica Teech’s from the fourth Pirates film, though with an oversized 18th century-style men’s undershirt rather than the “Renaissance Fair”-style shirt we get in the movie, while Jae’s most closely resembles Elizabeth Swann’s Pirate King ensemble from the third movie. Ellie’s is most closely modeled on Carina Smyth’s from the fifth Pirates film, though I did make some more period-worthy adjustments like the sleeve length and the light-weight scarf underneath the neckline, which were often worn by women of the time to obscure any deep cleavage and/or for warmth. Arjun and Jae, like the rest of the male pirates, I also gave facial hair because it was considered bad luck to shave while on board a ship, and so most pirates would invariably have beards of some variety, since they would be at sea much more than on land. In the 18th century in particular, beards were kind of “out of fashion” for men on dry land -- were you to have one, you were generally presumed to be eccentric, wild, uncouth, or just flat-out insane. (Which honestly kind of fits the traditional image of a pirate. XD)

The song “Hoist the Colours,” in the original Pirates films, actually refers to Davy Jones and the Brethren Court “binding Calypso in her bones” -- but since in this version of events, Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws had no part in the Court binding Calypso (because seriously, OG!Jones?? Dick move), the “King” in the song is the original Pirate King, not Jones. It’s actually a rare case where one can take a lyric more literally than metaphorically. XD

A kumiho is a nine-tailed fox spirit from Korean mythology, rather like the Japanese kitsune. One of my personal headcanons for Jae Kim is that his Patronus is a fox. *grins at @kyril-hphm* 83

Previous part is here; whole tag is here; and also featured in this section are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier (happy belated birthday, mon couer!) and Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts!

x~x~x~x

Shipwreck Cove was a settlement made out of hundreds of wrecked ships, all stacked on top of each other inside of a dead volcano. It was an imposing fortress, lit by thousands of lanterns in the night. Even its location at the end of the treacherous Devil’s Throat gave it a sense of impregnability -- it needed no tall walls to keep its enemies out.

As soon as Charlie arrived on the island, his new First Mate Barnaby Lee cheerfully showed him and the rest of the Phoenix’s crew around before he guided them to the Hall of the Codex, the room where members of the Brethren Court gathered, whenever they convened. Barnaby advised Charlie to make sure he stuck his sword in the globe before approaching the table -- it not only signaled his status as Pirate Lord to the other gathered Lords, but it also was a sign of respect to the others, indicating that he would not incite violence at the meeting.

“You can bring other weapons to the table, though, so you could still start a fight if you really wanted to,” Barnaby added rather brightly.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” laughed Charlie.

“CHARLIE!”

The new captain of the Phoenix looked up, and his face lit up at the sight of a familiar freckled face racing towards him.

“Bill!”

The two Weasley brothers latched onto each other, squeezing each other in a giant hug.

“Thank God, Charlie!” Bill mumbled as he clutched at the back of his brother’s coat.

Jules ran over too so she could also bring an arm around Charlie, resting a hand on the back of his head as she and Bill both hugged him tight.

“We were so worried about you,” said Jules, her voice a bit more level than Bill’s but no less relieved.

She glanced curiously at the new hat and coat his new crew had lent him.

“...Is there a story behind the new clothes?”

Charlie grinned a bit sheepishly. “Uh...aye! Actually...”

“Can we send Weasley and her crew out so we can call this meeting to order already?” came a rather impatient female voice from the table.

“Captain Farrier-Weasley and the crew of the Revolution are my guests,” said the level, patient voice of Orion.

“This meeting is for Pirate Lords, Amari,” said the impatient voice irritably. “You can’t just invite non-Lords to it -- ”

"Jules’s father is the Governor of Port Royal,” said the logical voice of McNully. “Since Port Royal’s the current base of operations for Cutler Beckett and the Navy, there’s a 65% chance she’ll have some good insight about how to approach this whole thing.”

“And considering we’ll likely be missing a member of our Court, I thought it might be helpful to have another captain present who could fill in for our seventh Lord,” Orion added calmly.

"You can’t decide that all on your own, Amari!”

“He’s not trying to!” snapped Skye’s voice. “At least Orion’s trying to bring something to the table besides tantrums -- !”

“Skye, please,” Orion soothed quietly. “Samantha, is it against the Code for Pirate Lords to invite other captains to meetings?”

Charlie’s ears perked up. Samantha O’Connell was there too?

Jules beckoned Bill and Charlie with a jerk of her head to follow her into the Hall of the Codex properly.

There was a large, stained, circular table set up in the middle of the room, around which two women and two men -- presumably four out of the seven Pirate Lords -- were already seated with Orion. One of the Lords -- a young man with tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and a black ponytail -- had a dark-haired woman who closely resembled him standing behind his chair with her arms resting on top of the back. Charlie guessed they must be related.

“...The Code does state meetings of the Brethren Court are to be attended by the Pirate Lords and their crews,” said Samantha. She was sitting with her legs slouched over the right arm of a high-backed chair in the corner of the room, a gigantic, dusty, leather-bound book open in her lap. “But it doesn’t say that it can only be attended by those people...so any dispute to the rule could be settled by popular vote. If any other Lord wished to co-sponsor your guests, Orion, they could stay.”

Samantha then flashed a beady look at the brown-haired female pirate -- likely the one who’d been arguing with Orion -- across the table.

“What is stated, though, is that all active Pirate Lords must be present before a meeting starts.”

The blond female captain sitting closest to the door nodded in agreement. “And we’re still missing one Pirate Lord.”

“Technically we’re missing two Lords,” the tanned young man pointed out in a rather charming, amused voice.

“I doubt the Lord of the Pacific Ocean will show up, Arjun,” said the woman leaning against the back of his chair. “I mean, there hasn’t been one since the first Brethren Court...”

“You’ll have one for this meeting.”

Everyone turned around in surprise as Charlie strode forward toward the globe, stabbing his dragon-hilted blade into it just as Barnaby instructed.

“Charlie?” said Bill, perfectly stunned.

Charlie walked up to the table, the crew of the Phoenix following along behind, and stopped in front of the empty chair beside Orion’s. He shot Samantha a smile and a little wave, before he glanced around at the other Lords more more seriously.

“I’ll second Captain Amari’s sponsorship of Captain Farrier-Weasley and her crew,” he said firmly. He tapped his hat to indicate the S-and-anchor-trimmed “Piece of Eight” button he’d sewn onto it, before removing it and setting it down on the table as he took a seat. “The crew of the Revolution is welcome to attend this meeting.”

He shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder at his brother and sister-in-law. Bill’s mouth had dropped open in shock and disbelief. Jules looked rather stunned too, but she recovered more quickly and soon smiled broadly herself, coming up to stand between Charlie and Orion the way the woman with Arjun stood behind him.

Orion gave Charlie a muted, but still very pleased smile.

“Captain Charlie Weasley...allow me to introduce Captain Merula Snyde of the Blackbird, Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea -- ”

He indicated the impatient pink-eyed brunette, who was now slouching in her seat and crossing her arms irritably.

“ -- Captain Ellie Hopper of the Treasure, Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea -- ”

The blonde pirate wearing the thigh-length teal dress and brown tricorn hat nodded politely to Charlie and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“ -- Captain Arjun Singh of the Naga, Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean, and his cousin and co-captain, Aishwarya Mehra -- ”

The man called Arjun and the woman behind him both smiled and inclined their heads respectfully to Charlie.

“ -- Captain Jae Kim of the Kumiho, Pirate Lord of the South China Sea -- ”

A pirate with a long black braid dressed in a beautifully patterned gold silk tunic, who was slouching casually in his seat, raised his hand in an off-hand wave. “Hey.”

“ -- and last but certainly not least, Samantha O’Connell, Keeper of the Code.”

“We’ve met,” said Charlie with a cheeky grin.

Samantha’s lips were tugged up into a broad smile too as she closed the large book in her lap and got to her feet.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And of course you already know Orion -- Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea.”

“So the last Lord is for the Atlantic Ocean?” said Jules after a moment, once she’d mentally listed off all the seas she’d heard.

“Aye -- that I am.”

Everyone looked up as a man with a long mane of dark curls and hollowed-out, almond-shaped blue eyes strode up to the round table.

“Black Jack!” said Barnaby in relief.

The rest of the Phoenix chattered happily at the sight of the Tower Raven’s captain. Charlie was relieved too, seeing that Carewyn’s brother was all right after all. Unlike the rest of the captains present, Jacob only had Ashe accompanying him instead of a full crew, and both men were also missing their hats and dressed in sopping wet clothes.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” muttered Jacob as he sidled into the seat next to Merula’s. “Ashe and I had to swim most of the way here, as that twat Rakepick decided to blow up my ship -- ”

“Swim?” repeated Merula, sounding both perfectly scandalized and disbelieving. “How could you have swam all the way here from...wherever the Hell you were?”

“Very strong lungs and muscles,” Ashe said in such a cool voice that it put an end to the train of conversation. He stood over Jacob much the way Aishwarya stood over Arjun, draping his arms around the back of the chair so as to hug Jacob from behind, and shot beady looks at the remaining Pirate Lords. “Seems they’re all in attendance, Jack.”

“Aye,” said Jacob. “Shall we begin, then?”

“Aye,” agreed Samantha. “Now, as per the Code, we can call this meeting of the Fourth Brethren Court to order.”

“Finally,” growled Merula.

She immediately shot to her feet and addressed the others.

“All right -- for those of you who aren’t aware...the Flying Dutchman, cursed ship of the damned, has been impressed into service by the British Navy. Then, under that arse Cutler Beckett’s orders, it attacked Tortuga.”

Jacob looked stricken. “Tortuga?”

Merula nodded. “Two hundred people have now been hanged in Port Royal, all for supposedly aiding and abetting pirates -- men, women, and children.”

Ellie looked back at her crewmates, visibly disturbed by the news. Arjun and Aishwarya exchanged a grim look.

“Both of the Captains Weasley and I were on Tortuga at the time of the attack,” said Orion, indicating Charlie, Jules, and himself. “I’m afraid the Flying Dutchman has burned the settlement to the ground. It’s no longer safe to return to.”

“It’s worse than that,” Charlie said lowly. He glanced from Jacob to Orion. “...Commodore Carey Weasley...warned me that Beckett is on his way here, to Shipwreck Cove.”

Orion’s dark eyes widened. Jacob stiffened sharply.

“You saw Carey?” said Bill, his voice strained with desperation.

Charlie glanced at his brother uneasily. “Yeah. ...He’s aboard the Flying Dutchman.”

The pronouncement made Jacob lunge to his feet so violently he knocked his chair over with a clatter.

“What?!”

His face was as white as a sheet as the rest of the Pirate Lords and their crews muttered amongst themselves. Ashe squeezed his lover’s shoulders that bit more tightly, his own brown eyes narrowing in concern. Bill had also blanched, his freckles sticking out sharply on his face. Orion’s gaze dropped onto his hands as he clasped them together on the table in front of him.

“Sh -- he can’t be on that ship!” Jacob shouted. “I explicitly told him to stay in Port Royal, away from the sea -- !”

“Carey had to have been ordered to go,” Jules cut Jacob off as gently as she could, even if she looked just as anxious as Bill and Charlie were. “If he got the order, he wouldn’t have been able to disobey it...not if he wanted to keep his position as Commodore -- to protect all of us.”

She glanced at Bill and reached out and took his hand, squeezing it empathetically.

Arjun exchanged a confused look with Aishwarya.

“I’m sorry -- but I think we’re missing something here,” said the Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean with a bit of a sheepish smile. “Is the Commodore of the British Navy our ally now?”

“Of course not!” scoffed Merula. “Beckett’s been puffing his chest out for weeks, crowing about how he’s roped ‘the great Carey Weasley’ into his anti-piracy campaign. Rumor has it that the Commodore himself was the one who suggested sacking Tortuga in the first place!”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Jae.

Everyone turned to look at him, startled.

“Amari here captured Carey Weasley to send a message to the British Navy and the East India Trading Company, didn’t he?” said the Lord of the South China Sea. “Yet Weasley escaped him. Then, only a short while later, Amari got arrested in Weasley’s hometown of Port Royal, only to be ‘liberated’ by Weasley’s own brothers and the Governor’s daughter, who has now become his sister-in-law.” He nodded curtly at Jules, Bill, and Charlie. “...It seems clear to me that all of it must’ve been planned. There’s no reason I can see for Charlie, Bill, and Jules Weasley to break Amari out of prison unless he and the Commodore were allies.”

The Pirate Lords’ crews excluding Orion’s starting muttering again. Charlie glanced at Orion, but the Captain of the Artemis’s gaze was still solidly on his clasped hands on the tale.

“...That’s true,” the second eldest Weasley said at last. “Captain Amari and my twin staged the escape. That was the reason Jules, Bill, and I helped Captain Amari escape prison, so he could help us rescue Carey from Charles Cromwell. Carey may be with Beckett...but he’s only agreed to it so that he’ll be in a position to protect us, now that we’ve been branded pirates.”

“Your twin’s smart,” said Jae with a nod. His black eyes then flitted over to Jacob. “What I want to know, though, is how you know the Commodore, Black Jack?”

Jacob’s skull-like blue eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jae’s face. “My history with the Commodore is none of your business. Nor is it relevant.”

He turned his focus back to the rest of the Brethren Court, his eyes blazing. “If that bilge rat Beckett does know where Shipwreck Cove is, then we’ll need to make preparations.”

“What preparations?” said Jae. He looked oddly unconcerned as he slouched back in his chair. “Shipwreck Cove is a fortress. It would take ages for anyone to penetrate our defenses.”

“The British Navy has broken out their Man O’ Wars from the War against the Spanish,” said Jacob grimly. “No pirate I know of has a ship that large and heavily armed.”

“Even so,” said Arjun bracingly, “it would take at least a month for them to reach us here, even if they found Shipwreck Cove. Would Beckett really want to waste that much time?”

“And money too,” Ellie pointed out. “That’s always what men like him worry about most.”

“Not to mention all the lives of the men he’d lose,” said Aishwarya.

“I’m afraid those things mean little.”

Everyone looked at Orion. He slowly raised his gaze from his clasped hands at last to look at them all.

“Cutler Beckett may be a man of business,” the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean murmured, “but he’s also a vengeful, close-minded, and ambitious person. He seeks status and wealth, and he has no compassion for those who might stand in his way of achieving them. And right now, in his eyes, what stands in his way -- in the way of the East India Trading Company’s profits and his own personal ambitions -- is every person who sails under a pirate flag or who shows any sympathy for our plight. Beckett may be crafty enough to manipulate others rather than just using his own physical strength...but he only acts like a gentleman when he doesn’t have absolute power over another person’s life. When he does have that level of control over someone...he can be as ruthless as the Kraken itself.”

Despite the calm, serious expression on his face, there was an odd flash of cold emotion that crackled through his dark eyes. No one doubted Orion’s testimony.

“If the fleet Beckett’s assembled does contain Man O’ Wars,” said McNully, as he rolled his wheeled chair up beside Orion, “then there’s a 73.2% chance this could turn into a siege.”

Jules’s dark eyes became a little smaller and she set her jaw tightly.

“...Then we’ll just have to assemble our own Navy and fight back,” she said firmly after a moment.

The other Pirate Lords’ crews started to laugh.

“‘Navy?’” repeated Arjun. He wasn’t laughing, but he did look a little incredulous. “Captain Weasley...we pirates may have a Court and Lords, but we’re not a country. Even those of us who have fleets -- or had fleets,” he gave a nod toward Jacob, “don’t answer to anyone else.”

“Even Shipwreck Cove isn’t a military fort or town,” said Aishwarya. “People stay here, and it’s very well-protected...but it’s no one’s home.”

“No pirate has a home,” said Samantha solemnly from the sidelines. Her emerald green eyes had drifted off toward the wall absently. “Just a ship, if we’re lucky.”

Charlie’s eyes lingered on Samantha’s face, clearly struck by how grim and oddly sad she seemed, saying this.

Jules, however, didn’t falter in her conviction even slightly. If anything, her dark eyes grew sharper as she put a hand down on the table and leaned over it.

“Cutler Beckett is an ally of my father’s, so Beckett hates pirates just as much as he does -- likely more, if we take Orion’s word -- and we’re all pirates. There’s no way any of us could defeat Beckett on our own, and if he reaches Shipwreck Cove, it’s likely he’ll treat it the same way he did Tortuga. If that happens, where else will anyone branded as pirates be able to go? Where else will we be able to go, if we decide to run instead of standing our ground? Even if you don’t have a home, we all need a safe place to rest and resupply...”

Bill nodded in agreement. “We all need a sanctuary to escape to, now and again.”

Jacob rested his head in his hands on the table, interlacing the fingers over his lips thoughtfully. Ellie Hopper placed both of her hands on the table so as to hoist herself up and out of her chair to her feet.

“You bring up a good point, Captain Weasley,” she said to Jules, “but it’s as Captain Roberts said -- none of our ships are comparable to a Man O’ War. And although there are pirates who were once soldiers...” she inclined her head respectfully to Bill and Charlie, “...there are quite a few of us who never were. Most pirates who were once in the Navy were privateers -- sailors who only ever attacked merchant vessels, not war ships -- and others, including both you and me, have no military experience at all. We don’t have the strength needed to defeat an entire fleet of Man O’ Wars.”

“We don’t,” said Orion very softly. “But there is someone who does.”

He glanced at Charlie. “Charlie Weasley...is Chia Dalma still with you?”

Charlie blinked. “Aye...she didn’t seem to like the thought of meeting the rest of the Court, so she stayed behind on the Phoenix.”

Orion nodded, but seemed unconcerned -- likely he’d presumed as much.

“You all recall, I hope,” he said, “that the Brethren Court was first formed when the original Pirate Lords decided to steal control from the goddess Calypso?”

Most of the people in the room nodded and murmured in assent. Charlie, Bill, and Jules did not.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that story,” said Jules.

“I’ve heard of Calypso,” said Bill slowly. “She’s supposed to be a goddess of the sea, isn’t she?”

“She was, once,” said Orion.

“There’s a song that tells the tale,” Skye added.

They both glanced at Merula, who straightened up in her seat and sang in a rather lovely voice,

“The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed

And bound her in her bones --

The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

The tune immediately sounded familiar to Charlie, Bill, and Jules -- it was the same one Carewyn had sung for Pearl, just before she died.

“You see, the original Pirate King, Henry Morgan, and his allies were buccaneers who were scared of how dangerous the sea was,” said McNully. “Because their livelihoods depended on their ability to sail, they all decided to tame the sea enough that it’d be safe to travel on, without them needing to appeal to the whims of a ‘heathen goddess.’”

Jules’s eyebrows came together tightly.

“And how did they ‘tame’ her, exactly?” she asked, her low voice betraying some cold disapproval.

“They ‘bound her in her bones,’” said Jae, “or, more simply, trapped her in human form. The transformation restricted the use of her powers significantly, making the seas less turbulent to sail on and therefore making it safer for the Lords and other pirates to evade the Navy and ‘ply their trade.’”

Jules looked furious. “So they cursed a goddess, just to help themselves?”

“To protect themselves,” Merula shot back a bit defensively.

Skye nodded in passionate agreement. “Calypso was terrifying at full power. She could create maelstroms out of fat air, send wild sea creatures to attack ships. She was the one who created the Kraken and the Flying Dutchman in the first place. Davy Jones was her lover, so they say...”

“The decision is more complicated than you think, Captain Weasley,” said Jacob, and his skull-like blue eyes drifted absently off toward the ceiling as his voice grew more thoughtful. “The Pirate Lords, much like us, could only support themselves and their families through their buccaneering. They did not come from wealth as you have. There was no other good way for them to make a living or a better life for themselves and their loved ones, as they weren’t land-owners and didn’t have any financial collateral. Not to mention many of them were God-fearing Christians who were intimidated by what they thought must be a servant of Satan, since there can be no other God before Him. What they did was cruel, of course -- no question...but it was made out of self-preservation and fear, not just greed.”

Jules crossed her arms, clearly unmoved. “It seems to me that people who so clearly value freedom shouldn’t try to justify why someone else should be denied theirs.”

“I agree,” said Orion, and although his voice was much softer and more level than Jules’ was, his eyes twinkled with something like approval in response to her words. “And that is why I propose that we reverse the First Brethren Court’s decision, from all those years ago...and release Calypso from her bonds.”

There was a silence. Then, very abruptly, all of the other pirates started shouting and arguing.

“Are you insane?!”

“That’d just make everything worse!”

“Cut out his tongue!”

“Calypso has no reason to help us -- she’d no doubt hate pirates, for what we did to her -- ”

“Give him a good shot to the head!”

“We’d be fighting both a sea goddess and the entire British Navy, if we did that -- !”

Even Skye and McNully looked at Orion with notable trepidation.

“Orion, I’d say you might want to pull back on that idea a bit,” McNully muttered to him.

Even if the volume and anger in the room did take him aback slightly, Orion kept his cool. He rose to his feet, holding up a hand for calm, but many ignored him and instead shouted louder. Seeing this, Charlie got to his feet too and, pulling his pistol of his belt, pointed it at the air and shot at the ceiling. The loud BANG scared everyone enough that they fell silent and the Lords who were standing all returned to their seats.

Orion nodded to Charlie in mute gratitude and addressed the rest of the pirates again, his hands clasped in front of him.

“We currently don’t have the force needed to overcome Cutler Beckett and his Company. We do not have the force needed to defend Shipwreck Cove, or even to ensure that we all escape this storm alive. We could hole up here for a month or so and hope that the Navy tires themselves out -- but as McNully stated, that could easily become a siege, at which point this place would become our tomb. We could all evacuate the island before the Navy arrives -- but as Captain Farrier-Weasley said, we’d lose the last sanctuary we have remaining in the world, as well as the last place from which we could plan a counterattack. We would all be out for ourselves at that point...leaving us to be picked off one by one by Beckett’s greater forces.”

His dark eyes grew a little smaller and more solemn.

“Therefore...the only path remaining to us is to stand our ground. And if we don’t wish to die on that path, we’ll need to gather whatever strength is available to us. Uranus and Saturn are set to collide in the Heavens...hinting to a climatic battle between order and chaos. We cannot know what the outcome will be unless we decide not to fight at all...but if we did that, then we’d only know the outcome because it would indisputably be failure.”

The other Pirate Lords exchanged wary looks among themselves. Jacob then gave a loud sigh and gave a reluctant nod.

“Amari’s right,” he said lowly. “Regardless of what your positions on releasing Calypso are...we don’t have a choice in whether to fight or fly. We will have to fight...and it’d be stupid and pointless to try doing it on our own.”

He glanced at Ellie, who nodded in agreement, and Merula, whose pink eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

“We can’t declare war,” the Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea pointed out in a rather arrogant sort of voice. “Only the Pirate King can do that.”

Orion actually blinked in surprise. “Really?”

He turned to Samantha. “Is that true, Samantha?”

The Pirate Dragon’s emerald eyes narrowed slightly as she reopened the large leather-bound Codex in her lap, flipping through the pages and scanning each line to find the proper section.

“...As per the Code,” she said lowly, “‘the Pirate Lords shall select a captain by popular vote to serve as Pirate King, who shall represent the entire Court when all cannot be present. The Pirate King alone can declare a state of emergency; declare war; take custody of the eight Pieces of Eight; take governorship of Shipwreck Cove; and give commands to ships that he himself does not sail.’ Looks like Merula’s right.”

Charlie frowned and turned to glance back at Barnaby, who’d been standing on the opposite side of him as Jules.

“The Pirate King is the leader of the Brethren Court, right?” he muttered to him.

“Aye,” Barnaby whispered in his ear. “Only, there hasn’t been one since the first Brethren Court.”

“Why?”

“Everyone from the other Courts just voted for themselves...so there was always a six-way tie and no one could decide on a winner.”

“I call for a vote,” said Orion serenely.

A lot of the other pirates in the room sighed in frustration or covered their faces and shook their heads. Jae himself plopped his chin down on his hand and rolled his eyes.

“Amari, are you serious?” he said tiredly.

Orion looked perfectly nonplussed. “Captain Roberts, would you start us off, please?”

Jacob raised an eyebrow at Orion and exchanged a suspicious look with Ashe, before he shrugged and nodded.

“I vote for Black Jack Roberts,” he said coolly.

He glanced at Merula sitting next to him.

“Captain Merula Snyde of the Blackbird -- most powerful ship on the seven seas,” she said, her lips curled up in a dry smirk.

“Ellie Hopper,” said Ellie uncomfortably, exchanging looks with some of her crew members.

“Captain Jae Kim,” sighed Jae.

“...Arjun Singh, of the Naga,” Arjun said after he’d exchanged a bemused shrug with Aishwarya.

When it was Orion’s turn, the Pirate Lord gave a quick sweep around the table with his eyes, before they shifted to his left, twinkling with something almost like mischief.

“Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley.”

“What?” said Jules.

“What?” said Charlie and Bill, just as taken aback.

Orion’s lips actually spread into a full, broad grin seeing how much his choice had blindsided everyone.

“The Pirate Code said that the Pirate Lords must select ‘a captain’ to be the Pirate King,” he said airily. “It never said that captain had to be a Pirate Lord. So I vote for Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley of the Revolution to be our Pirate King.”

He then nodded to Charlie. “Captain Weasley -- your vote?”

Charlie grinned broadly from ear to ear and he shot a glance over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, who had flushed a dark shade of red and looked very stunned.

“Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley,” said the Lord of the Pacific Ocean.

The other Pirate Lords and their crews all started chattering at once.

“What?”

“If I’d known you could pick any captain, I would’ve voted for Aishwarya -- ”

“Choosing your own sister-in-law -- ”

“I call for a recount -- ”

“How long has she even been a pirate?”

“Pure nepotism, that’s what it is -- ”

Orion raised his eyebrows very coolly. “Am I to take this to mean you all will not be keeping to the Code?”

Everyone almost as a unit turned to look at Samantha, who was glaring very pointedly at them as she rotated a pair of grenades in one hand.

Ellie, the Pirate Lord who had reacted with the least hostility to the decision, turned to Jules with a solemn look.

“The votes have it,” she said. “So Pirate King Weasley -- what say you? What shall we do?”

Jules, her face still very red, glanced hesitantly at her husband. Bill looked at her with pride, his eyes sparkling fondly as he squeezed her hand. Her lips spreading into a comforted smile, Jules raised her head and faced the Court with new confidence.

“Gather together and arm every vessel that floats,” she said firmly. “At dawn, we’ll prepare for war.”

With the meeting having come to a close, the Pirate Lords departed one by one to begin their preparations for the battle to come. Jules (knowing that, even though she was now Pirate King, she lacked military experience) immediately asked Bill, McNully, and Charlie to help her with figuring out what strategy would work best to defend the Cove. Orion himself seemed very pleased with the final outcome -- Charlie had asked him why he didn’t vote for himself, but Orion merely smiled and didn’t reply. Bill, however, thought he could guess.

“I don’t reckon Orion’s the sort to want to rule over anyone,” he said with a knowing smile. “Guide them, yes -- lead them, maybe -- but not rule.”

Orion looked at Bill, his eyes as calm and unreadable as ever.

“Interesting conclusion. What made you draw it, Bill Weasley?”

Bill’s smile faded, but his brown eyes lost none of their warmth. “Because Carey’s the exact same way.”

There was a strange spark in the back of Orion’s eyes -- something almost like surprise, which then morphed into something warmer and softer...fonder.

“...True,” he murmured. “Although she may have the heart of a queen, and all of the grace...Carewyn Cromwell would never choose a crown for herself.”

Bill’s gaze softened. Before he could say anything, however, there was a very loud WHAM.

Jacob, who was still in his seat and had been talking to Ashe, had abruptly slammed the large table across the floor with all of his strength, nearly knocking it over as he barreled over.

“YOU!”

Out of nowhere, the Pirate Lord of the Atlantic seized Orion by the collar with both hands.

“Jacob?” said Bill, completely taken aback.

“Jack!” said Ashe, his eyes narrowing in concern.

But Jacob didn’t seem to hear either of them. His blue pupils were dark, irrational slits of rage.

“IT WAS YOUR VOICE! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CALLED MY WYN BY HER NAME! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SPOKE OF HER IN THAT SOFT VOICE, YOU MAGGOT-INFESTED BASTARD -- !”

“Jacob, let him go!” said Jules.

Orion amazingly didn’t look the least bit scared -- instead his expression was rather tense as well as a bit confused.

“Captain Roberts,” he spoke quietly in an attempt to soothe the other man’s anger, “I understand what Carewyn means to you -- what you mean to her. I would never harm your sister. I could never hurt Carewyn, nor could I ever wish to -- ”

Bill was reminded of when Orion was trying hard not to fight him, back in Port Royal. Jacob, however, was just as unmoved as Bill had been.

“STOP CALLING HER BY HER NAME!” he roared.

Jacob yanked Orion around by the collar, slamming him roughly into the wall.

“IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT JONES IS AFTER WYN! SHE WOULD BE SAFE NOW IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU -- I’LL KILL YOU, YOU SCABBY, BILGE-SUCKING SON OF A -- !”

“Jacob, stop!” Charlie bellowed.

“Get off Orion NOW!” yelled Skye.

Samantha, Barnaby, Skye, Jules, and Charlie had all grabbed onto the back of Jacob’s coat and onto his arms, trying in vain to pull him off of Orion. Jacob, however, was ridiculously strong, and his grip tightened around Orion’s collar and throat, making the taller man wince.

Bill, his expression darkening more than anyone had ever seen before, very sharply skipped grabbing onto Jacob and instead stepped right between Orion and Jacob, taking his pistol out of his belt and pointing it right at Jacob’s temple. The move prompted Ashe to make an angry move toward Bill, but the eldest Weasley put out his other hand to hold him at arm’s length.

“Jacob, Carey’s not here, so I’ll say this for her,” Bill said very icily. “‘I’ll never forgive you if you hurt him.’”

Jacob gave a sharp flinch. His mad, hollow, slitted pupils never left Orion’s face, but they seemed to lose some of their focus -- almost as if he was looking right through Orion.

Ashe, furious at Bill having held him back, grabbed the red-haired man’s wrist and twisted it painfully out of the way so he could run over to Jacob himself. He brought both of his arms tightly around his lover’s neck, his face resting in the dark curls over Jacob’s brow as he hummed something under his breath. The sound seemed to calm Jacob little by little, making his shoulders loosen and his grip slacken. Light gradually returned to his eyes as he slowly removed his trembling hands from Orion’s throat, breathing shakily.

Jules immediately moved to Bill, bringing up a hand to his wrist to make sure it wasn’t too badly hurt. Once she’d confirmed he was okay, she turned to Jacob with a fierce look.

“Jacob, what do you mean Jones is after Carey?” she demanded. “Why is she in danger?”

Jacob’s gaze had fallen to the ground, throwing his eyes into shadow as he continued to take heavy, labored breaths. Ashe, still holding Jacob tightly, turned around, a very hard, grim look on his face as his eyes flickered from Orion to Jules.

“Jones aims to force someone into servitude on his ship,” he said lowly, “and he’s decided that person is Jack’s sister.”

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kessielrg · 3 years

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[Kingdom Hearts] The Shinrai no Kokoro

Summary: In which Sora temporarily makes Sabrina his captain during a trip to the Carribean. No better way to gain someone’s trust than to place them in absolute power, right?

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,691 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

- - -

It didn’t matter how old he was, where he had gone, or what his mission was as a Keyblade wielder, there was a special part of Sora’s heart reserved for sailing the Caribbean. He didn’t have time to find Jack Sparrow, or see how Elizabeth Swann was doing, though- he had come on a special mission with a very special someone in tow. Not Kairi -to whom he did promise a private leg around the archipelagos-, but none other than the disagreeable Sabrina Sidney.

Sabrina was a friend -a very close friend, if certain people had their way- of Ventus. She was always disagreeing with someone, for no other reason than she could. Ventus (with a few moments to Aqua and Kairi) was the only one she seemed to occasionally open up to- something that Sora (as a friend magnet) couldn’t fathom. Who wouldn’t want to be his friend? How could he not want to add Sabrina to the list of people he could trust in times of need? Her persistence was admirable, and the way she thought certain problems through would impress Sora just enough to be in awe. But she had a chronic ‘can-not-spit-it-out’ problem. So when she just walked up to him earlier today to say she wanted to go to the Caribbean in his vessel, Sora was beside himself.

Among anything, he was excited.

Wearing his pirate attire again after so long felt like a hug. His hands on the ship’s wheel was like shaking hands with a friend. He would belt out in sea shanties if he knew Sabrina would enjoy them. Just enough so she didn’t tell him to be quiet and hide away in the captain’s cabin for the trip, at least. For now, he didn’t. Instead he kept his hands to the wheel as Sabrina occasionally checked the map and compass for their course. Sora liked when she placed her hands on the rail overlooking the lower deck and stood tall as she watched the seas roll past them. Her raven hair would probably be flying if she didn’t have it tied back into a bun, helped by the numerous braids of various widths to keep each flyaway in place.

He knew she wouldn’t admit it, but Sabrina liked to dress up as a pirate too. She wore a long sleeved linen shirt that fastened in the front- the top three hook and eye clasps undone to show a small portion of her chest to give fools with less respect than Sora a small show. The necklace she wore with a medallion sized pendant also helped emphasize the area. Her canvas breeches were cut a little below her knee, with small patches of wear that looked almost strategic. The coat she wore was a deep purple with golden embroidery along the sleeves and edges; the coattails were shorter than Sora’s, only reaching to mid-calf on her.

As she stood tall, you could almost feel the confidence radiate off of her. Sora only caught a glimpse or two just to show admiration. But he didn’t keep his gaze for long- he had a ship to command, after all.

“Doesn’t this feel great?!” Sora declared, hoping to garner her attention. “The wind through the sails, the smell of the sea, nothing for miles but us and three different shades of blue…”

“And the constant reminder you grew up on an island...” Sabrina noted with a dull tone. She looked over at him, the disapproving look on her face proving to be nothing more than a major downer.

“This trip was your idea.” he reminded her, almost in a smug little voice. It didn’t phase her in the slightest. “At least have a little fun, Sabi.”

“I’m not on a Gummi Ship, I don’t have to.”

“You didn’t laugh once on the way over either,” Sora also pointed out. Not long after a wide, mischievous grin crossed his face before he said, “Although I do think it picked up your thoughts on surprising Ven…”

He was barely able to dodge her attempt to whack him. However, his hand was still on the wheel, so the ship violently turned before Sora was quickly able to steady it again. He offered a sheepish grin in a half baked apology. Sabrina huffed before returning to study the maps. Sora’s grin didn’t stop as he looked over her for a moment.

“Oh!” he then realized. “We need to establish this ship’s rules!”

Sabrina looked up again, her expression less than amused.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned.

Sora’s grin got even wider. “You, Lady Sabi, get to be my fine vessel’s captain. But only for today! We’re on a very important mission, and you’ve got the maps.”

“Whatta joy.”

Sora offered her a boastful grin as he gave his nose a little brush. “It’s all for Ven, right?” he mused. “You’ve got the maps for the treasure you’re giving him. It only makes sense to make you captain for the day. Now, where’re we headin’, captain?”

“Keep the course straight,” she told him, looking between the map and the compass, “Eastbound all the way.”

“Aye, aye madam!” Sora agreed with a salute before maintaining their course. The start of a new journey causing a buzz in his body. He was even taking it with one of the most solidary people he knew too! It was enough to almost make him want to sing. In fact…

“Yo ho mateys, away!” the young man almost belted out at the top of his lungs, “There’ll be treasure and adventure today! Heave-ho, here we go, together as a team! Captain Sabi and first mate So-ora, are we!”

Sabrina did absolutely nothing to hide her groan as she buried her head in her hand.

. . .

The duo dropped anchor when they came to a small cove hidden behind a dormant volcano. They both took an oar on their little rowboat so they could get closer in. Sora got out first so he could help Sabrina out, she took his gesture with some hesitation. Just the acknowledgement made Sora happy. He didn’t leave her side once as they ventured further in.

“There.” Sabrina said when she noticed something on a large rock ahead of them. Sora let her go on ahead, but something out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

“Sabrina,” Sora spoke up, “I don’t think we’re-”

He didn’t have time to finish as a loud wail filled the area. Sabrina and Sora immediately recoiled from the sound. When they were able to collect their bearings again, someone else was indeed with them. A siren now sat on the rock. Seeing her caused a chill to run up Sora's spine, and he immediately went to Sabrina’s side. Sabrina, too, had become more apprehensive at the newcoming.

“Who dares to take my treasure from me?” the siren questioned, its voice not quite male or female. Its black and blue eyes flicked from Sabrina to Sora and back again with a dark gaze.

“I am.” Sabrina said without an ounce of hesitation. “What of it?”

The siren raised an eyebrow at her.

“The treasure here, the Shinrai no Kokoro, can only be taken by one who passes my test. Do you accept this challenge?”

To this, Sabrina scoffed. “Well, if you’re going to make it complicated...” she grumbled, her eye roll deliberate as well.

“Very well.” the siren agreed with a nod. The siren then opened its mouth to let out a sound that made Sabrina recoil so badly, she had to cover her ears. To Sora, it had a different effect. His muscles started to relax, his pupils dilated, and his mind took a backseat to the soothing sounds of the siren. Once it was sure he was completely under its thrall, the siren stopped its song.

“That’s your test?” Sabrina questioned. “Some high pitched wail that did nothing?”

The siren smirked at her. It then turned its gaze to Sora and gave a nod. Sabrina found it odd, immediately turning to look at Sora as well.

“Sora?” the young woman asked, cautiously looking him over. “You alright, there?”

Sora summoned his Keyblade. Sabrina let out an annoyed sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Sora raised his weapon and pointed it at her, the tip blazing in preparation of a magic attack. Sabrina immediately protected herself with Barrier before it had the chance to hit her. As she called her own Keyblade, it left her open for a new attack. The possessed young man readied his Keyblade before driving toward her. A sound of surprise escaped Sabrina’s lips as she fumbled out of the way. How she ever avoided that was beyond her- and, unfortunately, the siren was not done with Sora yet.

“Why do you seek the Shinrai no Kokoro?” Sora asked, his voice mingling with that of the siren’s. It was hard to tell if they were simply talking at the same time, or just an effect of the siren’s control over him.

“Because I wanted to give Ventus something nice for his birthday. It’s, like, a week from now. Which you would know.” Sabrina sharply told him, jumping out of the way from a rather hard hitting swing. She quickly turned to the siren to seethe, “If you’re going to possess someone, the least you could do is leech his memories before asking obvious questions.”

The siren simply offered half a shrug in response. Sabrina had some choice words for the creature but didn’t have time to say them as she happened to parry another blow from Sora. The shock of it caused him to stumble backwards slightly.

“Why give the Shinrai no Kokoro to Ventus?” Sora asked.

“Do I really have to say it?” Sabrina groaned. She almost didn’t notice that Sora was preparing to perform Sonic Blade and was nearly hit at the first blow. It would have been a successful dodge had he not clipped her arm on the last strike.

“Fine!” she shouted in aggravation. “It’s because I like him! And since I don’t show that I like people in a ‘normal’ way, these few times when I do would mean more to the people around me. Especially for him. He doesn’t give up on me in a way that isn’t annoying or overbearing, and deserves to know that I do see it. The least I could do is remember his stupid birthday.”

The siren gave a small sound of approval at this. Why was a concept that was going to grade on Sabrina’s nerves for awhile. Not that she had much time to think. Sora, despite not being a ‘master’, still apparently knew enough to have an upperhand while possessed. Maybe the siren was just drawing out his frustrations toward her- if they truly existed. Wouldn’t that be a fun concept? It would explain why his inner mind apparently had no resistance to all of this. Not that Sabrina was going to go on and beg for him to snap out of it either.

What she needed to do was think smarter, not harder. She moved to an area where she could get a better read on his attacks. It wasn’t much, but there was a definite moment where Sora had to configure his body before attacking- like a puppet adjusting its limbs so the strings did not get tied up. It was enough of an opening that when he rushed at her again, their Keyblades let out a loud clang as they connected. Sabrina and Sora were now in a deadlock. Up close, Sabrina could see the haze over Sora’s eyes from the siren’s control.

“Why choose Sora to accompany you?” Sora asked her as he pressed their Keyblades closer together. One of them would have to give soon, their strength was close to being evenly matched in this state. Sabrina did not plan on being disarmed first.

Unfortunately, in a way, she still had to.

“It’s because you’re the only one I trust with this.” she admitted, somewhat in a grumble. “I am capable of seeing when someone wants to get through to me, and I know the Carribean is your favorite world, so of course I would ask you to help. You’re the only one I could ask. I…” (the young woman took a moment to give a small, disgusted groan) “I trust you.”

As the words came from her mouth, the grip Sora had on his Keyblade started to weaken. His pupils returned to normal size as he gave several confused blinks.

“Wait…” he slurred- his voice belonging just to him again, “You mean that?”

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

What Sora did next happened so quickly that Sabrina was caught completely off guard. He dispelled his Keyblade, bringing her to rock forward a bit from the sudden weight change, then he launched himself at her to give a tight bear hug. The force of which knocked them both to the ground. Sora’s laughter filled the cove as he held Sabrina tight. The siren gave a small, approving smile at the display, even as Sabrina started to demand for Sora to get off of her.

Even after Sabrina managed to shove him off, Sora still laid on the ground in a happy -practically relieved- laughter. Sabrina scoffed at him as she got up. She took time to brush her pants and jacket before giving her shirt a little shake to get the sand out.

“You have done well.” the siren approved, earning the attention of both teens again. “Come.”

Sabrina adjusted herself a bit more before taking careful strides to the siren. Sora, his laughing starting to cease somewhat, also got to his feet but he did not stop her. He could quite clearly see the siren hold up the palm of her hand; a ring nestled inside that was silver with green and purple jewels embedded within it. Sabrina opened her hand as well, allowing the siren to let the ring drop on her palm. The siren smiled as she covered Sabrina’s hand with both of its own.

“The boy you give this treasure to will value it above gold.” the siren informed the young woman. “Not because it has any true value on its own, but because he knows it came from your heart.”

“As all sappy gifts go.” Sabrina huffed. The siren offered a soft smile before her form dissolved into a pile of sand.

Sabrina turned around to go back to Sora, letting out a long, tired sigh in the process. She slipped the ring onto her finger for safekeeping. It fit so well, she wondered if whatever magic kept it the perfect size would still work when Ven got it. Sora patiently waited for her to be at his side again. He gave the ring a look as well. It was rather pretty, and for a moment the two of them just admired it. If it had any rare magical abilities to it, he wouldn’t have been the one to know. But it must have had something special to it if Sabrina thought Ventus would like it.

“We’re ready to head out captain.” Sora told her, standing tall as he gave her a salute. Sabrina blinked, looking up at him with a confused glance. It took her another minute more to even realize what he was saying.

“Then get back to the rowboat.” she told him, her usual attitude returning in full swing. “We wasted enough time here as it is. The last thing I want when we get back is Aqua questioning where we went. If Aqua questions where we were, everyone questions where we were, and there goes Ventus’s surprise.”

“Aye, aye madam!” he agreed, finishing off his salute. He then gave a rather gleeful laugh as he started to run back to the ship. Sabrina watched him with a small shake of her head, unsure if she should be annoyed and amused. She looked back down at the ring then back at him.

“Thank you, Sora.” she said, soft and barely audible, before following him out.

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whereisstevethestove · 4 years

Text

Board the Ship, Sing the Siren’s Song: Flying Dutchman AU

Fandoms: Sanders sides and technically the lore behind the Flying Dutchman.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remus, Janus

Relationships: Roman/Virgil, Remus/Janus Main

Additional tags: Mer AU, Pirate AU, Human AU, Siren!Roman, Siren!Virgil, Mer!Janus

TWs: none

Word count: 981

Summary: Remus reunites with a familiar face.

Notes: Welcome back to the Flying Dutchman AU. Also, I wrote a whole siren’s lullaby for this, so now I’ve written a whole shanty for this series and a siren song. neato.

AO3

“Captain, we lost another to a siren’s song.”

Remus sighed and looked up from the book that he was reading. “I heard. But I never really like Luis to begin with, so no great loss.”

Ange sighed. “Sir, if we keep losing crewmen, we’ll be unable to do our work properly.

Remus stood. “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“Are you sure? This isn’t like your mer--”

“The mer belongs to the sea before he does to me Ange. Do well to remember that. And I have experience with sirens, I shall be fine.”

Ange nodded. “If you say so Captain.”

…

It was misty in the cove that The Dutchman was anchored in. They had been resting here for a few days, as the seven year mark was nearly hitting them and it was only a short sail to the nearby port, thus maximising the crew’s time on shore.

Remus did have a small flicker of memory of this cove, and if he was right, he knew the sirens that called it home.

For now though, he waited. He waited and watched the stars as it grew colder and darker.

Nearing midnight is when he first heard the song. A familiar shanty, one of the older ones that few still knew started to creep across the cove, sung by a boisterous voice.

“I’ll sing you a song of pearls and treasure,

riches from land and me,

to whom who boards the Flying Dutchman–

you may never be free!”

Remus snorted quietly to himself as another voice joined in and started to weave a new song around the previous one, a shanty he’d never heard before.

“Stars and sea swirling

Singing for you to recall.

Hear my voice

See how far

It takes for a soul to fall…”

Remus grinned and walked to the edge of his ship.

“Virgil?”

Both songs stopped. There was a beat of silence as Remus waited.

“Remus?” One voice called out and a moment later, there was the sound of splashing.

Less than a minute later, there was a purple and black blur tackling him onto the deck of The Dutchman, trilling happily as he hugged the Captain.

“I thought you died a long time ago!” Virgil trilled again, an excited note as he leaned up on his forearms, allowing the other to move from his spot under the siren.

“Nah, became captain of a ghost ship.” Remus grinned and ran a hand through Virgil’s dark hair. “You don’t look any older.”

Virgil beamed and his tail lifted happily, scattering drops of water across the two. “Want to meet my mate?” “Does he want to meet me?”

“I’ll make him either way. It’s been so long since we talked, I want to hear everything that has been going on since I left.”

“Love, come back to the water!”

“Ro, come up and meet Remus, my little brother!” Virgil dragged himself to the side of the ship as Remus stood, walking over to see a gold and red siren waiting down in the water, arms crossed in amusement as he looked up at his raven hair mate.

“What if I like it down here?”

Virgil clicked and whistled at Ro and the siren responded in kind until the pair were practically shrieking at each other. Remus watched in interest as Ro seemed to lose the argument, disappearing under the water for a second before also launching himself up and out to land on the ship’s railing.

“You’ll be the death of me Virgil.”

“I accept.” Virgil grinned and the two kissed before Remus cleared his throat.

Ro broke away and glanced at him. “You look old.”

“Thirty years young when I stopped aging. You yourself don’t look a day over fifteen.”

Ro sputtered and Virgil laughed. “Shh Roman, your fragile ego is still okay.”

Remus grinned at the golden siren. “So, you’re the one that almost drowned my brother?”

“That’s an overstatement. I did not try to drown him.”

Remus tutted. “I didn’t say try.”

“Oh fuck you.”

Virgil seemed to be enjoying how the two were bouncing off of each other, content to listen.

Remus finally stopped egging the siren. “Virgil, do you two interact with mer?”

“Yeah, Ro has a few cousins that are mer and Janus hasn’t been by for a few seasons…”

“Janus?” Virgil hummed. “Didn’t have a name for the longest time. Never explained where he got his from either.”

Remus grinned. “Well, isn’t that something.”

It was getting slightly light by now and Roman was shifting nervously, which Virgil had clearly picked up on.

“We should go.” Virgil wrapped Remus in one last hug. “Anytime you come through here, sing for me. I’ll visit you. No promises from my mate though.”

“Alright. Love you V.”

“As to you Captain.” Virgil grinned and he and Roman tipped themselves back overboard, leaving Remus standing alone on deck.

He idly listened as the singing started up again, shanties and lullabies mixing in a discordant melody. At least the song wasn’t aimed at his crew anymore.

…

The next time that Janus was lurking near the ship, Remus attempted to sing for him.

It was disastrous but very entertaining for the mer.

Remus would do it again.

…

Roman held Virgil close a few nights after The Dutchman had left, both of them singing softly as they watched the stars.

“Hear the song

A melody

Taught to those who remember.

Hear my voice

Echoing

Luring you down to the water.

Stars and sea swirling

Singing for you to recall.

Hear my voice

See how far

It takes for a soul to fall

Sailor boy

Can you hear me?

Luring you to the waters?

Hear my song

Come along,

Return your bones home.”

When they had finished, he adjusted his head so he could look at his mate better.

"Your brother is very strange."

Virgil hummed in agreement. "Indeed he is."

#flying dutchman au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #mer!janus #siren!virgil #siren!roman #not countdown

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fistsoflightning · 5 years

Text

guilty or innocent // zaya & tehra’ir

tagged by: @windupnamazu!!!! carmela thank you very much for the pirate squad tag now featuring tehra’ir who could have been a literal pirate were it not for the calamity

tagging: open tag my friends!!! go wild!

warning; this post got long because of these two fools tossing banter!

With a promise of a zonureskin treasure map and Syhrwyda’s best cooking, you’ve managed to lure Zaya and Tehra’ir to stay in one place! Now’s the best chance to ask some questions for the Crystarium’s new magazine, The Crystal Echo!

Asked someone to marry you?

Awkward silence. What an odd question to start on, their expressions say.

“I… I believe… Dewah is guilty of this in his drunkest hour? I do not believe I could be considered to even be ‘dating’ Thancred… yet.”

“A’dewah with who? An’ seconded on the datin’ bit.”

“Who else, Tehra’ir.”

Both of them slowly turn to a table three sets behind them, where Thancred, Ryne, G’raha, and Y’shtola are having lunch at Syhrwyda’s behest; more of a sampling session, if one would ask. G’raha in particular stuffs a large amount of cake into his mouth as he meets Ryne’s widening eyes, the rolanberry delicately placed on a separate plate near Ryne where the rolanberries stack into a small mountain.

“But, Lun—well, I suppose Raha’s got two fambles to share, and a whole library of devotion.”

“What do you mean, two hands? Is that something Alisaie said?”

They never really answer about themselves, but any news about the newly revealed Exarch is better than none at all.

Kissed one of your friends?

“Why must these be so vague…” Zaya holds their head in their hands as they stare holes into the ground. “I… have not kissed Thancred, if he were to count— but, uhm.”

Zaya flushes red, but Tehra’ir is shameless as always. “Guilty! Whiddled I’d try my fams at surprisin’ tactics, and Zaya was the poor cove I set my glazes on first!”

“And I proceeded to push you into a wall of wine bottles that you made me pay for…”

Tehra’ir laughs heartily, and Zaya merely mumble-sighs at the memory of a wine-drenched, overly enthusiastic Tehra’ir being happy about retaining the element of surprise.

Danced on a table in a bar / tavern?

“Momodi would have my legs if I ever tried to dance on her bar, but I have danced for work in Limsa’s Drowning Wench before.”

“Ye don’t want t’ see me dance. Bein’ a rogue doesn’t cover dance floor etiquette, no matter how much it looks like I’m dancin’ when I fight.”

Ever told a lie?

“I wish I could say absolutely not, but I have. Three counts.” Zaya seems reluctant to elaborate on what they are.

“My career is built on lies. Shockin’ that Zaya still tried to be friends with me.”

“You do not lie to your friends, and hardly to your enemies. The only lie I’ve heard you spin was when you ate Y’shtola’s last tangerine tart before she could grab it and then saying it was Alphinaud.”

Tehra’ir squawks in fear as Y’shtola, three tables back, gives the duo an innocent glance.

Had feelings for someone you can’t have?

Zaya raises an eyebrow in confusion as Tehra’ir taps his head a few times.

“ ‘Can’t have?’ As in forbidden, or as in restraint, or...” Zaya’s hands trail off, clearly caught up in the confusion of loving someone you shouldn’t.

“Maybe a flight o’ fancy fer some o’ the nicer Garlean citizens... Nothin’ else comes to mind.”

Ever kissed someone of the same sex?

“My sisters, and on the cheek, but that is not what you are asking, yes? A girl back home, who wished to see if it was different than her boyfriend.”

“Innocent until we get home.”

Zaya whistles, a taunting expression crossing their face. “Ah, so that is what the letter from two suns ago was for.”

“Ye heard nothin’ o’ the sort.” Tehra’ir gives a steely yet joking glare as Zaya dons what could only be described as a shite-eating grin.

“Payback.”

Kissed a picture?

“Hells no! Have ye seen how dusty an’ dirty paintin’s an’ pictures get?” Tehra’ir’s face scrunches up in twisted disgust at the thought of kissing a painting. “I’ve seen how dirty Lumelle’s daddles get after a paintin’ session, and I am not about t’ put my gob to that!”

“That seems like something one of Ul’dah’s lords would do, to be honest.”

Slept until 5pm?

Zaya’s eyes shoot wide open as if to contemplate some poor decisions as Tehra’ir laughs it off.

“Actually, all eight o’ us Warriors just did so yesterday. Millin’ primals in Eden to runnin’ ‘round the Copied Factory takes it out o’ ye, right?”

“I was planning on doing the same thing tomorrow, truth be told… still recovering from the whole Light ordeal.”

Worked at a fast food chain / restaurant?

“Ye should really only trust Syhrwyda with cookin’...”

“We… may have set off the fire alarm in the Pendants when we attempted to make buuz a few suns ago…”

Both Warriors look almost ashamed at their ineptitude with cooking. Perhaps you should back off...

Stolen something?

“Secret plans fer a Garlean gun, the Silver Ravens, Jacke’s heart, money from some rich arsehole who stepped on the singers in the Beehive. It’d be easier to name somethin’ I haven’t stolen.”

Zaya gives Tehra’ir a blank stare as he continues to ramble off various items that he’s stolen, mostly from Garlean soldiers or noblemen.

“Stole once to keep Elwin alive, but… did Tehra’ir really say Jacke’s heart as if he hasn’t lost his to Jacke?”

Been fired from a job?

“Can one be fired from a chore? Otherwise, I work for Ul’dah’s guilds on a contract, so no.”

“Got fired from bartendin’ in a neutral tavern after they found me stabbers under the crates... although it wasn’t meant to last either way.”

Done something you regret?

“Holding back on my feelings, for one. Not aggressively ragging on Thancred during our first time in Il Mheg and Rak’tika comes to mind.” Zaya taps their chin lightly as Tehra’ir continues to think. “Performing a Tornado Kick on that poor robot in the Copied Factory gave me this giant bruise, so that too.”

“Remember the drinkin’ contest we had after millin’ Nidhogg?”

“Of all the stupid things you’ve done, you regret that the most? What about the backflip off of Kugane Tower that landed you tail-first on the lamppost?”

“...I thought we’d agreed never to mention that stunt ever again. Valdis dared me to do it!”

“Does not erase the fact that you agreed, jumped the full way up the Tower’s side, and leaped off without sabotons.”

Laughed until something you were drinking came out of your nose?

Zaya reaches for their nose at that, eyes sharpening in confusion. “That happens to people? Would that not burn?”

“Happens a lot, actually. Made a few coves do so t’ cloy their belongin’s once. Was a little disgustin’, but it worked.” Tehra’ir shrugs.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?

“When the four o’ us got to Coerthas the first time, all four o’ us did the silly thing of openin’ our mouths to get snowflakes...”

“None of us had seen that much snow before; Syhrwyda and I grew up in places where it never snowed, while A’dewah and Tehra’ir had never had the chance to. Alphinaud reprimanded us for being so foolish despite being a teenager then.”

Sat on a roof top?

“We clambered up the crystal roof over the aetheryte plaza ‘fore we came here, actually! Zaya wanted to take a picture fer Ryne of the Crystal Tower with this tomestone we found.”

“Ryne really loved the colors when I showed her. I believe she’s even taking art lessons with Elwin and Lumelle now so she can paint the scenery of Norvrandt as a pasttime.”

Kissed someone you shouldn’t have?

“I’ve kissed a few poor saps before, but none o’ the ruffmans or someone taken... I hope. Comes with the line o’ work; seducin’ is on the table fer a lot o’ information.”

“Would it surprise you to say I have never kissed someone...? I was more interested in roaming than seeking out love like Mama had.”

Sang in the shower?

“Zaya might be the only one that has a singin’ voice, an’ they don’t quite use whids, so is it still singin’?”

“I hum in the bath, most days. Never have I truly sung before, but for choral purposes, I would likely make good accompaniment.”

Been pushed into a body of water with all your clothes on?

“Recently, and by Urianger, of all people. He and Y’shtola wanted to test if the Fuath in Dohn Mheg would still dare to bother them before Alisaie held her swimming lesson with Ryne there, and decided I was the best candidate to get soaked.”

“Watched ye get seaweed in yer boots for ten minutes!”

“Do not make me push you into the lake below the Crystarium, Tehra’ir.”

Shaved your head?

“Never shaved all of it, but I did have an undercut for a short while after the banquet in Ul’dah. My hair could not have grown out in time to meet Lord Edmont, so Tataru helped cut it short.”

“Never... think I’ve always had it down to my glazes at least, if I think about it. Seems itchy.” Tehra’ir’s ears flick as if to protest against such a bold haircut.

Made a boyfriend / girlfriend cry?

“Zaya’s not the datin’ sort —not yet, at least—an’ I tend to shy away from anythin’ that looks to last fer a while. Thankfully it saves me from makin’ the wrong choice that might make a cove cry.”

“I have made other couples cry, however, from sheer terror on Valentione’s Day when they inquire as to why I refrain from ‘finding that special someone’. Never wanted to seek them out, really. Kind of just... ended up attached to Thancred...”

Shot a gun?

“That would be best left to Elwin, unless you want me to hurt someone. I have only ever trained in bows and throwing chakrams, not aiming down the side of a barrel.”

“Limsa’s known fer muskets and rifles, but they never really interested me. My fambles are better ‘round stabbers than a trigger.”

Still loved someone you shouldn’t?

“Shouldn’t have loved Jacke, really; he’s technically the boss man o’ the Rogue’s Guild, but the dimber dambers back home don’t mind too much as long as I don’t use me charm to coerce Jacke into givin’ them shite assignments.”

“I... perhaps? I could not place the feeling at the time, but seeing an old friend fighting at the Naadam the last time we went and later finding them attached at the hip to their long time rival brought something up in my chest.”

Tehra’ir snorts. “Ye couldn’t tell if ye were happy or scared that one time! Not surprisin’ that yer emotions are indiscernable to ye.”

Zaya gives a small glare to their good friend-rival, but continues to smile softly.

Have / had a tattoo?

Zaya immediately backs away from Tehra’ir, who gets a large glint in his eyes.

”Ye know, Zaya, ye’ve never shown anyone but me that tattoo yer covering the scar on yer right arm with...”

“There is a reason, Tehra’ir, and I told you it already!”

Tehra’ir sigh, backing off, but as Zaya lowers their arm back down to the table, he grabs it and shoves the orange and gold band up slightly to reveal a small yet intricate depiction of storms making a ring around Zaya’s arm. A small name in swirly letters is peeking from the bottom, but Tehra’ir holds his hand over it charmingly.

“There it is!”

Zaya sighs aggressively, but relents and keeps the tattoo in sight for a few more moments before putting the armband back in place.

“A... fan, of sorts, saw lightning sparking around me once, and offered me a design for a scar I had earned protecting someone. A gentle gesture to soothe the hurts of the Calamity, in all likeliness.”

Liked someone, but will never tell who?

Zaya makes a soft ‘oh’ of surprise, which is alarming since they haven’t spoke a single word. Tehra’ir huffs out small chuckles as he watches Zaya attempt to regain composure.

“Hanami has told me I looked like a fool when I was around Thancred for a good portion of our time here, save for perhaps when Ryne was involved…” Zaya looks to their feet sheepishly, toeing the lines in the wood platform. “Both Hanami and Lunya figured my feelings out that way, but I was never good at lying.”

“An’ accordin’ to several hours o’ interrogatin’ by Zaya’s mum, there’s no one else! It’s been that charmin’ doofus from the start!”

“TEHRA’IR PLEASE. MY REMAINING DIGNITY.”

Been too honest? Ruined a surprise?

“I often come off as rude when speaking to new people, especially since I do not respond verbally to anyone. I did have Thancred tell some odd recruiters that their robes were filthy, though. They ended up in jail for assault...”

“Never,” Tehra’ir gives a mysterious smile. “I have a penchant fer secrets and skulkin’, an’ I know when to tell the truth and when to stubble it.”

Been told that you’re beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said?

“Innoce—”

“I’m pretty sure Thancred’s flirtin’ from Ul’dah counts, mate. An’ the flirtin’ he did last night after Y’shtola got ‘im tipsy.”

Zaya flushes a bright red before signing. “...Guilty, then. Tehra’ir, what about Jacke’s letter?”

“WHAT LETTER COULD YE BE TALKIN’ ‘BOUT, WHAT A RUMMY TALE YER SPINNIN’—”

“I can read his handwriting on the paper on the table. ‘The moon shimmered off o’ the sea like diamonds in the darkmans, and it reminded me o’ yer hair—’”

Tehra’ir spins on his stool to slap a hand harshly over the well-penned letter. “STUBBLE IT ZAYA ‘FORE I DO IT FOR YE.”

Stalked someone?

“Only for work, although that sits better in Tehra’ir’s rogue circle.”

“Once stalked a man fer takin’ my bandana, as a wee kid. He regretted it.”

Thought about murder?

”In the job description, mate. Have to, when lendin’ one’s daddles to the safety of yer continent.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we do not think about it much outside of Warrior business, save for perhaps when sitting in on our third official meeting of the day.”

Tehra’ir groans loudly at that, head falling into his hands.

“Now I don’t want to go back jus’ to ignore those swivin’ meetings fer longer.”

How about mass murder?

“Fer toads, maybe. Never felt like stabbin’ more coves than I need to.”

Zaya chuckles at that, slowly pulling a stuffed toad out of their bag as Tehra’ir turns away. The toad finds its way next to Tehra’ir’s foot before Zaya signs again.

“Once, and of Garleans when they were invading the Steppe a long time ago. I seriously contemplated bringing Ochir to the skies above Doma Castle and letting him swoop down at their archers.”

Tehra’ir screeches, stomping on the stuffed toad when he sees it. The brown toad doll makes a small squeaking sound, as if it were a dog toy.

“Zaya, must you do this every time I mention the toad problem?!”

Cheated on someone?

“I feel like we’d answered this already by sayin’ we’d barely consider ourselves t’ be datin’ our interests. Cheatin’ isn’t among our list o’ priorities if we’re still stuck on lovin’.”

Zaya shrugs, and that’s that.

Gotten so angry that you cried?

Tehra’ir starts to shake his head before he notices Zaya’s clenching fist, eyes tipping into a concerned look rather than a teasing one.

“Alisaie an’ the snow kids?”

Zaya nods, before adding onto his graceful interjection. “Was put off duty at Ghimlyt for a sennight to make sure I would not do anything rash. My anger resulted in several nights spent hunting for Clan Centurio.”

Tehra’ir pushes no harder, and smiles softly before looking to you to continue.

Tried to stay away from someone for their own good?

“Well, with our line of work…”

Zaya starts to fiddle with a pendant necklace hanging next to their Crystal of Light, shimmering a light blue in the sun.

“Comes with the territory, mate. Jacke certainly didn’t let that stop ‘im from stickin’ with me.”

“Before Ifrit, we all tried to keep away from being friendly in case one of us died in our primal conflicts. Not exactly what you meant, but it holds.”

Thoughts about suicide?

A stifling air comes about the table as both of them fall silent as the forest night.

“No thoughts fer it ourselves,” Tehra’ir starts, fiddling with a small fork next to his plate of seafood pasta. “But fer our mutual friend and spots where one might whiddle would be a good place t’ die in the darkmans.”

“That night was easily scarier than Titan was.”

They fall silent again until Tehra’ir picks up, a beaming smile back on his face.

“Moving on!”

Had a girlfriend / boyfriend?

“Is it jus’ me or are ye really interested in us havin’ a relationship?”

Zaya and Tehra’ir both squint curiously at you, but relent after a few moments.

“Like we said, not really. The whole love business is... complicated.”

Gotten totally drunk during a holiday?

“Not fair! Zaya’s impossible to get drunk!”

“If I can recall, Tehra’ir got his hands on a cartload of ale three days before Heavensturn, and proceeded to try and drink me under the table.”

“That was ‘fore I knew about Zaya’s swivin’ Echo benefits!”

“He threw up on Lyse’s new shoes in the middle of the large Heavensturn celebration in Rhalgr’s Reach and then fell into the waterfall below the Destroyer. What a mess he was then...”

As soon as Zaya finishes the last sign, Tehra’ir butts in with a different, wholly unrelated quip.

“At least I didn’t set the Pendants aglimmer this mornin’ tryin’ to bake cookies!”

Zaya gives a deadly glare at the already running rogue, giving a short wave and slamming back their hot cocoa before chasing their fellow Warrior of Darkness, pink petals and a blue flower forming around them as they lean into a full on sprint. Their Scion friends stare momentarily from their table as they watch the duo run off to who knows where, returning to their own table of desserts quickly.

Unless you can chase them, perhaps the interview would be best ended here.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #guilty or innocent meme #tehra'ir naphto #zaya qestir #i changed tehra'ir's glamour again... whoops!#im love these two stupids #trying to get better at rogue speak when its not just the rogues guild as the characters?#zaya and tehra'ir are fools that somehow perfectly understand each other despite their really difficult to parse ways of speaking #cyan's guilty\innocent comment on zaya's mooning over thancred made me change one... zaya's a big goof when it comes to feelings #long post #raha has two hands and enough feelings for as many wols as he can hold: the headcanon #i also think ryne would like rolanberries! or maybe that's just me making a word association... oh well #edit: i forgot to finish tehra'ir's sentence on the 'laughed until drink came up your nose' one... whoops #zaya cm #tales from the blue

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xmagicxshopx · 5 years

Text

Kill Me, Save Me - Prologue

Genre: Fantasy Adventure, Romance, Comedy Rating: PG-13 Warnings: brief smut and light swearing Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Jimin x oc, Taehyung x oc Notes: pirate!bts au. Not idol!bts. Same goes for EXO. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: So I personally don’t swear or curse so writing some of this was awkward for me. XD

Summary: You’re not just one of the seven legendary pirate lords, but you’re also the captain of the only all-female pirate crew to sail the seven seas. You’ve spent years pillaging and plundering. But now your time is up. A curse. There’s only one thing that can save you. A great treasure. But what happens when Bangtan are after the very same thing?

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Well look who’s here. Decided to stop by, did you?”

“Go away, V. I’m not in the mood.”

“So to what do I owe the greatest pleasure of having your lovely presence in my tavern?”

The raven haired female groaned audibly in annoyance as she sat there hunched over with a glass half full in her hand. No one knew her real name but she went by Crow. She earned the nickname because of her beautiful long black hair and the way it was styled and cut.

Right now all she wanted to do was fly away. The male beside her, who went by V, never failed to get on her last nerve. Even his nickname ticked her off. He claimed it meant V for Victory. Pfft. As if. With a roll of her eyes, the female knocked back the rest of her drink only to have the annoying owner so very kindly order her another round. He once again tried to start up conversation.

“Where’s your captain?”

“Find Jungkook and you’ll probably find her.”

“And Sunny?”

“Probably off somewhere with Jimin. Who knows. I’m not their keeper.”

“My my. Someone’s awfully cranky tonight.”

“You make me cranky, V.”

“Ouch. I’m hurt.”

“Not sorry.”

The two pirates sat there in silence but it didn’t last nearly long enough for Crow’s liking. She wanted to scream in frustration when his annoying voice sounded in her ear once more.

“So then you’re probably not gonna share any gossip with me?”

“If you’re referring to the map, my lips are sealed. I’m not betraying my captain like that.”

“Come on, babe. Betrayal is such a strong word. And besides, I’d protect you from her girly wrath.”

“You underestimate us, V. How very foolish of you.”

“Not budging are you?”

“Nope.”

“Soooo.....then that’s probably a no on the sex too, right?”

Needless to say, Crow made that last drink he ordered for her count. For as she so casually walked towards the exit to his tavern, she couldn’t help but smirk back at his dumbfounded expression; hair dyed a peachy color falling in his face and over his perfectly circular glasses (that he didn’t even need mind you). Drenched in his own alcohol.

The Black Crow was no pushover.

Meanwhile.......

“Just----”

A thrust causing your back to hit the door particularly hard.

“Tell me----”

Another delicious thrust that had you moaning while you clawed at his clothed back.

“Where it----”

A thrust that had you seeing stars in front of your eyes and a scream of his name to fall from your lips.

“Is!”

However, no matter how good Jungkook was, you weren’t about to give in just because of some steamy sex. A quickie. It was always a quickie with him. Not that you minded. Sex was sex; simple as that. Just a raw good time that left both parties feeling amazing. A win-win for all. But it never stopped the young male from using it against you to get other things he wanted.

“I’m not----”

A moan cut you off when he started rubbing figure eights on your clit. Dear god he was killing you now. Knowing all your weak spots after so many.....escapades.

“Telling you----”

A particularly loud cry of pleasure turned your voice hoarse as you suddenly threw your head back to where it collided with the door. He was now attacking not only your bundle of nerves, but now the sweet spot on your neck.

“Shit!”

And suddenly, Jungkook stilled and the rum cellar grew silent. Of course aside from the mixture of heavy breathing. It was true, while V and Crow were up on the main floor of the tavern, Jungkook and yourself had slipped away from the drunken crowd and rushed for the closest door. The rum cellar.

This had been going on for quite a few years now. Running into each other, hooking up, then going back to hating each other’s guts. You were on opposite sides. Enemies. You had your crew and he had his. Granted Jungkook wasn’t the captain but still.

“Was that ‘shit’ as in ‘holy shit Jungkook fuck me harder’ or were you literally telling me you’re not gonna tell me shit?”

“What do you think, genius? Now keep going. I’m almost there.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna let you finish?”

“What makes you think I can’t finish myself?”

You smirked and clenched your walls around his member with purpose; jerking a moan out of him. He always felt so good inside you. He was the perfect length and size. Despite being enemies, the two of you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. But you were starting to get frustrated with your partner. His stilled hips causing you to lose that high you were so very close to reaching.

“Move, Jeon.”

“Tell me where the map is first.”

“Never.”

Sex had now turned into a glaring contest. Jungkook having parked you up against the door to the cellar with your arms and legs around him; his length buried inside you to the hilt. Your walls squeezing around him; silently pleading him to move and continue. The both of you were only half dressed but Jungkook swore one of these days he would properly bed you. Pfft. Yeah right. Fat chance of that happening.

“You’re lucky you feel so good around my cock, Captain.”

And just like always, you got what you wanted.

Meanwhile.......

Two young souls hid in the shadows of a cove just a few feet away from where your ship was parked. Their heads were together to where foreheads were touching. Hands reaching up and fingers entwining with a loving touch. Soft whispers were exchanged meant only for each other to hear.

“I missed you so much, Sunny. It feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, Jiminnie. I missed you too. I thought about you every day.”

“And I thought of you. Hoping and wishing to see you again. What brings you here anyway?”

“I’m not gonna pretend that I know what goes on in that head of the Captain’s but I have a pretty good guess.”

The two chuckled as their theory remained silent. But Jimin understood all the same. It didn’t matter to him what the reason was for this blessed visit. He just wanted to make the most of it. For the girl in front of him was his whole world.

Shame they rarely got to see each other.

“I wish we didn’t have to be enemies.”

“I know......I hate it. Why can’t we all just get along? Share the sea and all it’s treasures?”

“We both know it doesn’t work that way, beautiful.”

Sunny’s frown was so deep that it caused her face to wrinkle. But in Jimin’s eyes, she was always beautiful. No matter what. He hair could have been messy from sea water and everything else but no matter what, she was absolutely gorgeous. Lifting her hand up to press gentle kisses to her knuckles, he spoke softly yet sadly,

“We don’t have much time left. I should get back before they start looking for me.”

“It feels like we just got here. I don’t want to say goodbye so soon.”

“Hey hey. It’s okay. We’ll see each other again soon. Yeah?”

He hated seeing her cry. The whole reason her name was Sunny was because she was like a ray of sunshine. Literally. Wherever she went, it was like the sun itself was shining. So naturally it killed him to see any kind of tears falling down her beautiful face. Holding her close, he soon started peppering butterfly kisses all over her face to try and help dry up the tears as well as make her giggle.

And it worked.

After tying up ‘loose ends’ and restocking on a bit of supplies, the girls were all back on the ship with the rest of the crew. All females. It made your chest swell with pride. This was your ship and your crew. You built everything from the ground up. Found the baddest, toughest women out there. Well most of them. Sunny was your soft spot. But there was no way you were going to get rid of her. No. She was precious to you in every way. You loved every member of your crew.

You stood in your Captain’s Quarters with Crow standing behind you. Crow was your first mate and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Staring at yourself in the elegant full length mirror, you couldn’t help but take in all the hickies Jungkook had left on your neck and collarbone areas. He was a biter but so were you.

“So he still doesn’t know the map was right under his nose?”

“Nope. V doesn’t know, right?”

“Never said a word.”

“Good.”

Crow couldn’t help but frown in sadness as she stared at her captain’s bare back. It took up her whole backside. A tattoo of a treasure map to an outsider, but to anyone who knew about it, a curse. Her captain’s curse. Something she was born with. It was the female’s voice full of command that had Crow snapping out of her sad thoughts.

“Read it again for me....please.”

“It says we need to head west.”

“Then we’re sailing west.”

#pirate!bts #pirate!jungkook #pirate!kook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jimin x oc #taehyung x oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #s;killmesaveme

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lothirielswan · 5 years

Text

“A Putz and a Shady Businessman” [12]

I rolled over, little bits of sand clinging to my damp clothes as I looked out at Stranglethorn’s beach. The coast reminded me of a treasure chest with slopes of pearls and gold coins.

Who knew being a reckless teenager would pay off years later? If only my mother knew that.

Gallywix squeezed water out of his top hat as he sat up on the beach. “I don't know who’s gonna pay for my drycleaning, but it ain’t me.”

Salt water burned my nostrils as I kneeled on the shore. Khadgar was closer to the water with his cobalt robes lined with foam.

And Velen…?

Gallywix screamed as a violet hand erupted from the sand, and out followed the rest of the Prophet. The elderly draenei coughed as he dusted off his beard and hummed like he had just finished a mundane task.

“Well then, maybe your mother shouldn't have yelled at you all those years for visiting the marsh,” Khadgar’s voice was even more hoarse than usual as I helped him up from the bed of wet sand. He had reclaimed his staff, and wiped off the wooden head carved into a perching raven.

“You want to tell her that?” I remarked with an arched eyebrow.

Khadgar’s arm stiffened beneath my touch. “Heavens no.”

My gaze drifted to the ocean and sky, blushing with reds, pinks, and amber as the sun kissed the day goodnight. My eyes widened as I remembered Tera’s words. My buccaneers found it and they’re selling it this evening in the lower ramparts of Booty Bay.

I looked back at Gallywix. “The painting!”

The Trade Prince moaned. “Curse the pirates! They ruined my life!”

Khadgar and I turned to each other, sensing the clock that ticked above our heads. “Tera said the deal would take place this evening.”

He nodded, his hands igniting with blinding arcane light. “Right. We’ll be there, hold on!”

The arcane glow expanded and feasted upon our surroundings. In a mere moment, the angelic sigh of the waves was replaced with the overworked groan of timber planks. We were stationed in front of the gaping tunnel that lead to Booty Bay.

The wooden structures creaked with the reminder of how long they had been there. The village faced the sea at a curve with open arms, exchanging ships with the waves from the busy harbor. The only extravagant thing was the laughter off in the distance, ringing with richness and purity. It was one of the most endearing–er, charming places I had seen.

I tensed as the sun bobbed on top of the horizon. Khadgar’s fingers gripped his staff and swiped a look at me. There was urgency in his tone, “You’re the fastest. Don’t wait for us.”

“And get that painting by any means necessary, or you’re fired–! Sorry, force of habit,” Gallywix dismissed his empty threat as I sprinted away from the tunnel. I scanned the awkwardly-set buildings and searched for a way down.

Despite the circumstances, I think I would like this place. It’s warm and lively: it's not Pandaria, but it's homey.

I sucked in a breath as I stumbled on one of the nailed floorboards. The long, deadly gap between the wood and the stone cove hugging the town loomed before my eyes. Two arms caught me before I fell down to the life-taking depths.

“Careful, this ain’t running terrain, sweetheart.” The dark-haired human pulled back. For a minute I was dazed by his eyes: they were a rich gemstone blue that reminded me of Anduin’s. I cursed myself for lingering on them–I was losing precious time.

“The lower ramparts,” I spat out the words as I felt the thin, uneven slabs of wood below me shudder. “Where?”

“This way, hug the ends, and ya see that ramp by the overturned boat–” I sped off before he could finish, shouting my thanks over my shoulder as I ran.

I faltered a few more times, tripping on nails and slippery seaweed. The human was right: trying to move swift here was suicide, and I sharply avoided goblin-appointed guards as they became trampling hazards.

I can't let Gallywix lose this painting. I’ve gotten to know him, and he might be a putz sometimes, but he's not some shady businessman…! Alright, he is a putz and a shady businessman that will sue me if I fail, but I like him. And the Horde has enough problems with the summit.

My breath caught as the floorboards transformed into uneven bamboo strips. I bit back a hiss as the rough ground scraped against the bottom of my boots.

I arrived at the last ramp with my bare, freckled shoulders slick with sweat. I scuttled to a stop as I looked down at the bottom floor.

We’re too late.

Two parties shook hands at the bottom. One group was clothed in the crimson bandanas of the Bloodsail. The buyer was a wealthy-looking undead in a business attire, flanked by two elven bodyguards.

“This will make a fair addition to my collection,” The undead businessman handed a portrait hidden by a drape to the blood elf on his left. “Give Tera my regards.”

The Bloodsail shared mutual nods. The wealthy undead glanced over at the ramp I was stationed on and frowned. “Is this...another one of your associates?”

The orcish woman in charge of the Bloodsail party looked at me, clutching a bag of newly-acquired gold. Like Tera, tusks sprouted from her jaded lips like the talons of a vicious hawk. Before she could speak, I finally found my voice, “No, I'm not with them. Is that...The Goblin Lisa?”

All of the Bloodsails’ hands were suddenly positioned at their waists, where pistols and cutlass’ were sheathed. I heard more footsteps, and my companions reached the top of the rampart. Khadgar took his place by my side and silently assessed the situation.

The undead smiled at me, and while the blood elf woman was still holding it, he raised the drape covering the portrait. The lively-looking picture of a goblin woman’s face stared back at me, with a faint but knowing smile. The undead handed the beige sheet to the male night elf on his right and gestured at his prize, “In the flesh, my dear.”

A flicker of emotions crossed Gallywix’s face, but they were chased away by a grotesque sneer. “Ey! Give that back–!”

“Finders, keepers,” The orcish pirate snapped.

Khadgar and I exchanged a look. We could fight them. If we did engage in a skirmish, the painting might be damaged...and the pirates would be killed.

Is there another option?

“I have a proposition for you,” I replied, shrugging of the shoulder straps to my pack. A breeze swept through the cove and I finally noticed my rebellious hair. The goblin products I used to tame it had been washed out by the tide, and it cascaded down in puffy, sunset-bathed waves.

As I dug into the contents of my belongings, the Bloodsail aimed their weapons at me. Khadgar’s eyes widened and raised his hands up in surrender. His curious gaze flit back to me as I held up the shiny object.

“This is the brooch of the infamous Prince Arthas Menethil,” I said, forcing my voice to sound confident as I flashed the pin that was larger than my hand.

The Bloodsail leader’s nostrils flared as she recognized the crest. “That is ours!”

My head tilted to the side slightly at her. “Finders keepers.”

I strode down the ramp to the undead businessman. “Sure, it’s a well-made painting. But I think the past makes my trinket a little more...valuable.”

I shrugged, the brooch still clasped in one hand. “Perhaps we could make a trade?”

My heart pounded as he pondered the decision. He was undead; by Sylvanas or by Arthas, no one could say. It could be of importance to him, or it could be a scorned artifact of time.

I could give this to him and lose my chance to reunite Jaina with it, or I could spill more blood on an already tainted history.

“Or not,” I said, lowering the arm holding Arthas’ brooch and slowly spun around.

“Hold on.”

I stilled, flashing a smirk at Khadgar and then turning an innocent gaze back on the undead businessman. “Yes?”

His eyes, two pools of light, flickered on the gold trinket I held. “I want that brooch.”

“And I want that painting,” I said. “That's my price. Are you willing to pay it?”

His bodyguards moved with him as he took a few more steps towards me. “I will.”

The Bloodsail still watched with furious gazes, fingers on their triggers. Khadgar acted as my bodyguard and stood close as we exchanged the two relics.

The undead sighed as he traced the boon of Arthas with flesh-deprived fingers. “Such bloody history...”

I clasped the frame of the painting and turned to Gallywix, who already had his arms outstretched as if to embrace a long-lost relative.

The undead bowed his bald, gray head before he ascended the ramp, “Ladies.”

Part of me grieved to see him pass Velen as he left: Jaina had been attached to Arthas, the prince, before he became the king Azeroth remembered him to be. But that Arthas was gone.

“You dare to steal from the Bloodsail?” The orcish woman hissed. The cutlass she held shined with the last rays of sunlight.

“You dared to steal from me!” Gallywix snapped.

As the two bickered and pistols were pointed, I leaned back into Khadgar. I muttered, “I think now would be a nice time to…”

“Disappear?”

“Yeah.”

Khadgar smiled as his fingertips let off a soft glow, “As long as there are no spiders on my head, I’m happy.”

~Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace~

I watched as Gallywix set the painting back up on the tacky banana-stamped wallpaper of his home. His estate was much larger than Aggra had told me, and he invited the us there to celebrate our victory.

“And viola,” The Trade Prince stepped back, dusting off his fingertips as we stared at the painting. Lisa still had her mysterious aura about her, with her plump lips in a remote, secretive smile. Perhaps she smiled with the knowledge that this Lisa had of her son, and the true Lisa never bothered to learn. Was I right? I would never know.

“Gallywix–” I started.

“Call me Jastor, Red,” The goblin leader winked as he retrieved his martini glass from a nearby dresser.

“Jastor,” I corrected myself with a smile. “why keep the painting?”

Jastor swished around the liquid contents of his glass as he stared at the hazel eyes of the portrait. As he stared at that secretive smile that seemed to know all the enigmas of Azeroth, his answer trickled from his lips, “I’m a businessman, Red. I got a lotta jewels, boat loads of rubies. Those things, they don't go away unless you’re stupid or you wander into a casino at night. But people can disappear even faster. And you can't always earn them back. So I treasure all those people, past and present.”

I smiled, “That��s very sweet.”

“Good, tell Fairbreeze’s Fables I said that,” Jastor raised his glass in a mock toast.

We fell silent. Still we stared at the mystic face of Lisa.

“Ya know, Red, out of all the people at the summit, I think I trust you the most right now.” Jastor’s tone had gone surprisingly hushed. “And that’s why I’m gonna tell you this.”

I turned away from The Goblin Lisa. Jastor’s features were bathed with an extra green layer of eerie light from the string of bulbs across the walls. The sickly glow faintly reminded me of the Undercity canals filled with mysterious, deadly toxins.

“Sylvanas, she’s a smart lady. Pragmatic, a lotta vengeance, lotta ambition.” Jastor slightly shook his head at just the thought. “But nothing good comes from tryin’ to bury your past. You didn’t hear this from me, but...I don't think it's gonna turn out the way she wants unless some new...epiphany, comes along.”

“What are you saying?” I leaned closer, searching another face that knew a secret.

Jastor suddenly cackled, drops of liquor staining the zebra-carpeted floor as his body jiggled with laughter. “Look at your face! I got you good, Red, I got you good! Oh, this alcohol works fast, man–”

His lighter tone broke off and he shot me another serious look. “You don't tell...a single living soul about this.”

I was at a loss for words, so I settled for a slight shake of my head. Jastor never seemed like the mad type. He released a puff of air and muttered to himself, “She hates all living souls, anyway…no faith in humanity. Heh, business preys on that. But I don't want it dead...I don't want them dead.”

~*~

I left Gallywix to divulge his mysterious outburst to the painting as I stepped outside. The Pleasure Palace stood high above Azshara, with party lights twinkling like the first night I had pursued Gallywix. I passed palm trees probably imported from Stranglethorn Vale as wandered to the pool.

Khadgar had already made himself at home on one of the floats, bobbing atop the clear water as he playfully froze and boiled the pool’s surface.

When Khadgar saw me, he rolled off his float and into the water. He popped back up on the edge of the pool, water droplets cascading down his face. “Care to join us?”

I wanted to, but after Jastor’s words, I couldn't stop thinking about the Warchief Banshee Queen. Relaxing had been kissed goodbye tonight. I smiled politely and shook my head, “I think I'm going to call it a night, but I’ll see you at the summit.”

Khadgar vanished with a splash and went back to his float, humming as he gazed up at the stars. I passed Velen’s lawn chair next and waved. “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your help, Velen.”

The elderly draenei perked up, rattling the row of finished glasses beside him. “It was a wonderful adventure, Scout Strider. Don't forget to give Lady Proudmoore this.”

I gaped at him as he opened a purple hand and offered me Arthas Menethil’s brooch. I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination, brought on by a long, tiring day. Velen pressed the cool gold into my palm, and I accepted it as reality.

“All the Stars in the Night Sky...this is amazing, Velen! Did you steal this?” I glanced up from the treasure as Velen shot me his own doe-eyed look.

“Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can break the rules too, Scout Strider.” Velen winked. “Get that to the Lady of Kul’Tiras as soon as you can.”

“I will, my gracious thanks,” I added a little bow as I juggled my hearthstone in my other fist. But before I whispered an incantation to get home, I glanced up at Velen.

“Yes?” He looked at me curiously.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Tera seemed nice.”

“She was indeed.” Velen agreed. “But there is a chance that she survived, and is looking up at the same stars we are now. I suggest you think of that ending, Eona.”

The stone bloomed with light like a star in my grasp as it started to grow hot. Then the rest of the stars in the sky faded into nothingness.

#thrilling adventures of eona #Khadgar #gallywix #velen #eona strider #World of Warcraft

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thehomebrood · 6 years

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Episode 1 - “Death’s Wings” Text Recap

Endless thanks to the amazing @stellar-stag (@stellarstag on Twitter) for writing up this text recap of the episode! I am so so grateful!! 01 - Episode 1 - Death’s Wings: [YouTube] [Soundcloud]

Spoiler warning ahead! This recap encompasses the important parts of the entire episode, so if you would rather experience it through the episode itself, there are links above!

Also, just like in the regular episode, you have to listen to the recap episode first to understand what is going on!

Having returned from their expedition to Holy Xantambe, the party enjoys some downtime in Nantambu. While everyone else watches Skreeach repeatedly injure himself attempting to build a deck, Olur receives a notice from a guard: the cure they made to undo Magdalene's infection is ready. Olur quickly fetches Alagon, and together they go to the house of the Chieftain, who confirms that they've produced twenty crates worth of vials of the cure, which can be deployed in mist form against anyone infected. The cure is given to the party and the Pathfinder Society, and Alagon and Olur agree that they can't afford to wait: they've got to take care of Magdalene as quickly as possible.

Before Olur can return and tell the others, however, he's approached by another guard, who tells them a man is attempting to enter the city, saying he knows the party. Following the guard, he sees the man is Lupum, the ancient gunslinger who they released from stasis in Holy Xantambe. Having nowhere else to go in a world eleven thousand years after he last saw it, Lupum decided to meet up with the party in Nantambu. After some brief confusion, Olur agrees and brings him to the guild hall. Lupum formally meets Alagon and Skreeach, the latter of whom expresses bewilderment at Lupum's guns which don't shoot magic.

Together, the party forms a battle plan: The Pathfinder Society forces will march to Blood Cove and engage Magdalene's army of thralls directly, using the cure to free or neutralize them. The party, meanwhile, will burrow underneath the city with Zathune, bypassing the citizens to engage the black dragon directly. As this is being detailed, Olur uses the speakstone Dryle gave Rin to contact him and ask for help. Dryle, still hanging about Freestation, has briefly fought/annoyed Magdalene, but has no interest in doing so further, and demands half of her hoard in payment for his help. Olur, having already promised a quarter of the hoard to Zathune and wanting to give half to Blood Cove to aid in rebuilding, barters with Dryle. Dryle eventually agrees to help in return for Willrender, a dagger that Skreeach found beneath Nantambu. When asked about his interest in the weapon, Dryle only replies that it has ties to his past.

Olur also sends a letter to Grant, giving a brief status update as well as their plans for engaging Magdalene. He receives a reply, saying that Grant tried and failed to defeat the dragon, wishing them luck in their endeavor.

The party gears up, purchasing a magic bowstring for Rin, potions and provisions for the party, and inadvertently reintroducing mundane firearms to Golarion, before setting out. When they arrive at Blood Cove, Olur readies to call Zathune, but is approached by Lupum, who needs help on a religious matter. He reveals a mark of Pharasma, the Goddess of Death, and explains that he has a complex history with her and wants to contact her. Olur knows that Pharasma is motivated by self-sacrifice and shares the domain of water with Gozreh, and so the two travel to a nearby stream. Lupum submerges himself in the water and sees a vision of Pharasma, in the center of Holy Xantambe, pristine yet utterly empty. Lupum confronts the Goddess, demanding answers why she took the lives of those dear to him. Pharasma, in turn, tells Lupum that he meets the requirements to be her champion. Although still upset with her, he agrees, and is given altered weapons and armor, as well as his first task: kill Magdalene, whose infection that animates the dead is an affront to the natural process of death. He awakens in the stream, half drowned and unable to remember the Goddess's parting words.

Olur then prays, and sees a vision of his father, who reassures Olur that he was always meant for great things, and that he will win in the upcoming fight. Zathune, who witnessed this exchange, opens the tunnel for the party and Dryle. As dark clouds descend, the party begins making their way under the city towards Magdalene, and the battle for Blood Cove begins.

The Pathfinder Society engages the army, while the party emerges near Magdelene, who is in her full draconic form, wreathed in black smoke and shadow. They quickly begin their assault, using healing magic and fire both to pierce her scales and weaken her defenses. The dragon quickly retreats to the skies, hoping to rain destructive magic on the party from above, and Olur calls Zathune, giving chase on dragonback. As the party members on the ground continue to injure her, Magdalene, too weak to flee, attempts a desperate move to crush the party. Before she can manage, however, Olur leaps from Zathune and plunges his weapon into the back of her skull, killing her.

The clouds vanish and the city erupts in cheers, as Magdalene's body crumbles to dust. However, Alagon notices a rune of Soul Transferral beneath her body. Remembering seeing a similar rune in the wreckage off the coast of Blood Cove, the party fears the worst and pursues. When they arrive, they find only black feathers, in a trail leading away from Blood Cove and the continent. Using divination, they are only able to discern that the being who left is some form of beast between wolf and raven. Deciding that their prey has escaped, they return to Blood Cove, where the entire city is in celebration at being freed from the scourge of the black dragon. Our heroes bask in the praise, and when questioned on what our noble party calls themselves, they decide on a name that conveys at once their diversity and unity: the Juxtaposition.

Travelling to Magdalene's hoard, they find none other than Grant, who is examining the pile of treasure. Amongst the various gold and wondrous items, Olur finds the second of Gozreh's divine instruments: Anchorus, an incredibly powerful anchor which can be used to command the seas themselves. Excited at the prospect, he quickly takes Steele outside and demonstrates this ability by parting the ocean waters, and after a bit of convincing, they dance on the seafloor in the moonlight.

FIN

#dungeons and dragons #d&d #podcast #long post

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goldenscript · 7 years

Text

trust me

pairing: lee donghyuck | reader genre: peter pan au / fluff, light angst word count: 3,618 description: all you really need is a little faith.

What comes after eyes shut and the stars bespeckle the navy canvas of the sky is, of course, darkness, with fright targeting the hearts of children (and even some adults) and certain thoughts nestling in the back of their minds. It’s unsettling—the mystery that lies after waking hours. It leaves one pondering what may come for them or if anything will come for them at all, leaving disparity in its wake as the glimmers of dawn rise in brilliant shades of frost bleeding through the fading violet. Where nights like these become common and only a few remedies can be used for treatment.

For many, you specifically, pleasant stories help—not just the simple ones where the princess kisses the frog and finds herself a prince—rather they’re intricate, well-woven to a point where story crafting became a game for you and your mother at the time of your greatest battle against insomnia. Although Treasure Island and its swashbuckling pirates piqued your interest, there can a time when you eventually strayed away because those adventurous, ravenous bunch became nothing but codfish to you. And rather, a young boy no older than yourself taking their place.

You remember tales of a boy you had only ever dreamt of, with fiery red hair and an impish grin almost always perched on his sun-kissed skin. But instead of being a figment of your imagination, he is actually very much real. He isn’t like Jack or Aladdin. No, he is a boy with hope and fun and all the laughter in the world, who could make you laugh despite only existing in a realm so far yet so close, you could practically feel the sand between your toes on the beach and feel the sea breeze brush against your skin when he helps you take flight.

—

Here, the seagulls are cawing and the lull of the mermaids singing down by the cove are echoing all across the land, with a few high-pitched shouts and guttural grunts filling the spaces in between. His hands have always been warm and steady in yours, a flash of a more genuine smile poised on his lips. It’s just like the many times before.

“Ready?” he asks you, his arm already lifting up ever-so-slightly. At the sight of your hesitance, he raises a brow at you, “Remember what I told you?”

“Don’t fall?” He laughs in response, shaking his head at you. “Oh, right. The other thing—faith, trust, an—”

“—d, pixie dust!”

You can remember the sprinkle of golden dust kissing your lashes, your cheeks, your hair, and your arms. It’s less heavier than the glitter you were decorated in for New Year’s, but far from the light sprinkle that comes on the first day of spring. Rather than the risk of a million showers and the risk of a cold, it imbues you with warmth all over from your head going down to your toes, lifting an invisible weight off your shoulders as you find yourself already floating an inch off the ground.

All it takes is the memory to get you ready for take-off.

Haechan grins and gives your hand a squeeze, “See! I knew you could do it again.”

“I—I’m—” you stutter, looking over at him with wide eyes. Since your arrival onto Neo, you haven’t quite gained your footing on the whole flying ordeal. It took a matter of seconds to do it in your half-dazed stupor where nothing but the insatiable need to escape your dark thoughts and the following worries that always recount themselves over and over like some broken record became your motivator, but right then just now was a completely different move.

Every waking moment on the island has been filled with getting acquainted with all the mermaids, the Dreamies, even the wretched pirates that caused more fun than actual havoc, the kiss of the waters between your toes, the taste of delicious fruits hanging from the trees, and the very feeling of the island itself. Adventures left and right, memories seared deep into your memory without a chance of disappearing, and all because Haechan extended his hand to you.

His fingers interlock with your own, giving you a squeeze as you feel a thought weigh you down for the briefest moment. He only draws you nearer and reminds you that thoughts can disappear with him. All the bad that’s crossed your path is nothing more than a passing phase, and what is happening right then and there is okay. Everything will be okay. He knows it, and he wants you to know it too. That’s just how he is. Not quite blind to the daunting reality that nothing lasts forever—something he’s been showing more and more conscious about since you arrived—but the kind of optimism that you need, because that’s how you are.

Fears and worries are what keep you awake, gnawing at you like an unresolved hunger and unrelenting like an incessant pain. You’ve fretted the dark, the future, and all that comes with the unknown. And yet, Haechan has changed that without fail.

There have been nights where you were plagued with anxieties, with unanswered questions that could only answer themselves upon doing them, some dark and some not so much, and still these things toiled with the semblance of peace that comes with rest and entering dreamland. You only found a sense of calm here, where nothing but flight and impromptu adventures welcomed you. Be they hikes across the tall hills or even rides across the tides, where you could kiss the salt water with someone by your side. Here, there is light like the end of the tunnel, illuminating the darkness and the long-winded path and showing you the land you’ve crept so carefully upon.

If it wasn’t for that red-haired boy, you don’t think you would’ve ever realized just how easily you could trample upon that path or the many others that follow. If anything, you don’t think you would’ve ever known you could take detours and see other parts of the caverns. And for that, you are eternally grateful to him, to the Dreamies, to Neo.

The shed of light is exactly what you needed, and so is the comfort of Haechan at your side. His nature is almost always jovial, the sort of happiness that’s contagious to others, so when he breaks into fits of laughter, you can’t help but do the same. When he smiles, you feel your own creep up on you. And when his eyes shine, it’s like looking at the stars from up above, and still, his seem to be so much brighter even in daylight.

And despite all the uncertainty that comes with him, like where you two may go even now, or whether he’ll get bored of you and the stories and the company you bring or not, you’re actually comforted by the idea that whatever comes will come and that is fine by you. You’ve begun to see things in stride instead of all at once, making your mind a lot less muddled with too many what-if’s and what-will-be’s. Plenty of which contains mostly thoughts of Haechan himself, you’re completely okay with it.

At the least, you know the feeling is quite mutual anyway.

“—Y/N?”

The way his voice cuts into the air and the roaring waters below has you falter when you see his own body sink a little lower. You’ve only ever seen him waver like this twice before, but it came with the mention of home. Another time at the mention of a boy named Mark. From the way Jeno talked about the previous boy, it sounded like he and Haechan were awfully close, so it makes you wonder if that is what’s passing his mind right now. It was only a week ago when it came to be, and it’s been even longer since he’s being showcasing tumultuous waves behind his glittering eyes.

“Yeah?” you say, meeting his eyes with concerned ones. “Are you alright?”

He’s just about to answer before something dawns on him. The recognitive look passes across his features too quickly for you to say for sure as he offers you a smile and asks, “Can we go somewhere?”

“Of course,” you smile softly. Although his smile doesn’t match his eyes, you let him guide you to wherever this place is. You haven’t a clue where or what may come, but that’s the beauty of letting him guide you. It’s always worth the while.

This while is far from the sand coves, the hilltops, and even the palm trees with all the coconuts you and the rest of the Dreamies drank and ate from the insides. Instead, there is a hideaway even more entrancing than the treehouse you and the rest of them have resided in for the entirety of this summer, with a large expanse of land, filled with different flowers you can barely name, with tall green blades of grass that you would dwarf as soon as you stand beside it, with large oak trees adorning the entrance, and with no one else in sight as you both slowly perch yourself on one of the large, flat stones beside the fluttering foliage.

Haechan hovers just a moment longer, letting go of your hand for a moment and turning toward an area you don’t pay mind to, because of the very proximity you are in. The smell of freesias and daisies waft around you two, hugging your bodies in a soft embrace as you find yourself with a sole rose in hand. Its petals are a flaxen shade that makes you think of him and the warmth he provides you, and it is just as soft as his hands. There aren’t any thorns to prick your fingertips either. Only a small leaflet that flutters as a small breeze and the very warmth of his skin and the sun’s rays kiss your skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur to him, caressing the flower. His palm opens upwards to yours, wrapping around your own like the usual routine. It’s easy with him. Even as your heart thrums, you still feel at ease around your personified sunshine.

“Of course,” he looks at your entwined hands and shifts to the rose in your other hand. There’s a particular look in his eyes that stops you from asking him if he’s alright again. You know he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “The colors mean something. Didja know that?”

You blink, looking at the small gift of nature in your hand, “They do?”

He nods, meeting your eyes along the way. As if to ask you, “Wanna guess?”

You can’t really think, nor does the answer come up even in the recesses of your mind but from the twinkle in his eyes, he seems to bank on this. And that makes you shake your head and smile as you reply, “Tell me.”

“It’s a promise,” he begins softly. The lull of his voice drifting with the wind as you both remain sitting, knees touching and all. A sudden recollection of his odd behavior pops back up—his indifference to Mark and the idea of home beyond the island, his uncertainty around you, and his sudden disappearances at night. Jisung reassured you that there was nothing to really fret over when he is like that, but you can’t seem to shake the inevitability of change. Because, even here, that’s bound to come to surface. “Of new beginnings.”

You tilt your head at him, “New beginnings?”

The heavy lump in your stomach begins to dissolve for some reason. You don’t know why, but the very phrase is just comforting to you.

He nods, musing aloud, “Like you coming here, us, and… well, leaving.”

In other words—growing up. You remember his entire spiel on the topic, agreeing wholeheartedly because it’s true. It’s inevitable. And it sucks. It sucks so badly that the very mention of it has almost always sent him away before he returns with yet another adventure in mind. Then, the upset fades but the tension seems to only get heavier.

Of course, it’s a process to living. It’s exactly what Mark did too. What comes at the price of leaving is taking the first few steps into adulthood, whether you agree with it or not doesn’t matter, because it’s happening. Even as you, Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno remain there, the island itself knows. The very magic you’ve all imbued yourselves with won’t react the same, flying gets heavier, the luster of adventure is lost, all of it gone—that’s just what happens. But it’s to your surprise that he’s so willing to talk about this, especially with you.

Even more so, he actually lets out a soft laugh before he continues, “It’s weird how suddenly I could change my mind about the whole thing, but it can’t be so bad, right? Mark’s doing it already, after all.”

“Are you feeling alright, Haechan?” you ask, letting go of his hand to place your hand on his forehead. You’re not sure whether you should feel relieved or concerned that there isn’t a sign of a fever on him. But as your hand slips down, his hand catches yours at his cheek and allows it to stay there as he nods. “What… changed?”

He sighs, looking as though all the comfort he could ever need is right there in your touch, “When I realized you’d have to leave one of these days—”

“—don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you’ve considered what would come after you leave. You know it would be hard to continue what you have with him from your little town to the grandeur of Neo, but you refuse to allow him to leave just because you are—!

He pouts a little, pretending to try and bite your hand though you don’t so much as recoil as you continue to watch him. You only move it when his hand soon drops onto the space between both of your knees.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says in a small huff. His bottom lip stops the slight quiver as soon as you look ready to listen. “But it started with that, alright? I realized you would have to leave, then so would Jeno and Renjun, and it made me remember I would too… I mean I’ve always wanted to stay here forever. Ever since Mark brought me, all I could do is fall in love with everything—the island, the mermaids, the Dreamies, even the pirates... And I fell so hard that—that I forgot what it was like back there. And then, I got scared because when I think of there, it’s dark and blank.”

He seems to pause, gaze flickering to your own in case you have something to say. Of course, you want to, but you don’t say anything. You just continue to nod, already knowing that he’ll continue now as he looks up at the blue skies. It’s his place of comfort, of innocence, and of freedom that you feel blessed to share and love with him.

“Not knowing is scary, Y/N,” his voice is smaller, the light traces of frivolity fading as his brows furrow ever-so-slightly. “I won’t know what to do when I do. You have a home, so does Jeno… even Renjun. And I know Jaemin’s doing alright and—and—and even Mark. And I—am just—I’m okay with it, but I’m not.”

“Hey,” you leave the rose on your lap, grabbing both his cheeks. He’s tense for a moment, but the hardened expression on your visage is accompanied by soft eyes—you mean business now. “I get what you mean.”

He whispers, “You do?”

You nod, “Being there was scary for me too, Haechan. I couldn’t sleep at night because all I could think about was what was going to happen and what’s supposed to happen. It was hard, honestly, but then, I came here. Thanks to you.”

His eyes twinkle with a soft light as he asks, “Really?”

It’s his dream. Helping others, giving them comfort, and telling stories. He may make up the games and adventures for you and the others to experience, but what he loves the most is recounting the events at the end of the night, where everyone is not quite exhausted but they’re far too lazy to move anywhere else but the makeshift beds. He loves giggling over the inside jokes and hearing how everyone else felt afterwards.

And although you don’t mention it often, you are grateful for him and the opportunity he gave you in coming to Neo. You’ve loved every minute there. Every single moment has been nothing less than a memory you’ll keep forever, and you know that a part of him knows you feel that way too.

“Really,” you smile, nodding again. “So, that’s how I know you’re going to be okay. You won’t be alone, Haechan.”

“Donghyuck,” he says, reaching for your hands and holding them atop his lap. “That’s my name.”

“Well,” you muse, feeling your heart swell. “Donghyuck, you’re going to be okay. You’re not alone. Me, Renjun, Jeno, and Mark will be right there with you. I promise.”

“Really?” His brows have long since relaxed, rising a bit as hope begins to seep in. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t have said it,” you respond with playful indignation. When he laughs, you lean in close. Of course, your heart can hardly handle your own ministration, but it isn’t like you’re the only one flustered by this. You can hear a stammer threatening to tumble out of his pinkish lips, but you just smile a little. “Remember what you used to tell me?”

He blinks, a little thrown off but he manages a, “What?”

“Don’t you trust me?” you slightly mimic him, only smiling after his mouth drops slightly ajar. It’s a homage to that night he offered his hand to you, but you don’t think you would’ve ever had all these opportunities without his encouragement.

“Using my own words against me?” He laughs, giving your hands a squeeze. He takes a moment to respond after you nod, allowing the weight of your words to sink in just as his had with you. Sometimes it’s the leap of faith that helps more than anything, and you hope it does for him.

“What do you say?” you ask him, recounting his previous words once more.

The very thundering of your hearts entering the still air.

You feel nervous, because it’s the first time you’ve done this with him. He’s always been the one to convince you, not the other way around. But it feels right. Because you know deep down that he is lonely despite all else, and those fears that seem so irrational and almost miniscule run farther than you can imagine. You know that when your fears were swallowing you whole, he was right there to guide you so it’s your turn. And you’re more than willing to do that, especially for him.

“Okay,” he nods, uncertainty remains riddled all over his features, but a steady resolve is in the works at the helm of it all. “I trust you.”

He takes a chance right then, inching closer to your visage as you did with him. But instead of shying away, the two of you remain there with locked eyes and those thundering hearts. His soft breath kisses your lips, a taste of new beginnings, mint, and coconut all right there, beckoning you. All you two can seem to think about is this moment, letting everything else fall away as the rest of the world falls to a low hum.

Then, he closes the distance and it really feels like the world melts away.

—

You remember those last days on Neo, each one flying by just as quickly as your races around the island. You remember how heavy it felt to float away and see your home, how empty it felt when it was just you, but how warm you felt with Donghyuck’s hand in yours as you both made it inside together. You remember all his ambivalence, all the sleepless nights, and all the homesickness. It’s somber and morose, then. But it’s bearable and he gets through those nights, where he pulls you closer and curls into your side. Each one getting easier as time goes on.

That’s why you two are there in your bed, years later, his mop of faded auburn locks tickling your skin. He’s still nestled against your side and his breathing shifting to a normal pace. He mumbles something, but you can’t quite hear it.

“Hm?”

“I said,” he pauses, letting you shift onto your side to face him. “Remember Neo?”

You hum an affirmation, asking, “Did you dream of it?”

As your fingertips caress his cheek, he says, “I did.”

“Tell me about it.”

You’ve grown so used to telling stories of his adventures, especially to Mark who can’t seem to get enough of them, or even Jisung and Chenle who wonder what else they missed out on. But to your surprise, his aren’t about him and what he did that reminds you of all the strength he’s given you.

No, instead, this time it’s stories with you, the who gives him strength. You, the who still guides him through the dark tunnels of the real world where doubts and anxiety continue to wait. He tells you about who has given him a home—Mark, then you. All the while, you, who lays beside him in the warmth of your shared bed after all those years ago on Neo.

It’s you who, for once, is the one that sheds light, and it is you who becomes his personified sunshine.

304 notes · View notes

becomestorm · 7 years

Text

THE ROOM WAS IN SHAMBLES shattered glass shewn upon flooring. the echoes of what had transpired still fresh in her mind. father had gotten cross at how far mantle had progressed with their armies. he had almost smashed the magic mirror , her spyglass that let him see all that had transpired. ——— clean ! clean ! clean ! shouted through her inner depths before her father returned. feet stung from fragments as she walked about in a fury but she powered on. soon there was not a lick of the tragedy anywhere. throwing worn body across sheets white tresses tangled with silk sheets as limbs buried deeper into bed. falling like icarus from the sky , she fell into slumber. waking only to a familiar shuffle of feet. a pretty aroma tickled her nose. rising , digits rubbed wake crystalline orbs to find lilies beside her. they were there again, their tall form faced towards the sunrise through paned glass.

what did this assassin want ? they were sent to murder her yet they had spared her time &. time again. they frequented her tower room more than once bringing gifts from the outside world for her secret treasure cove. she did not find it in her beating heart to complain. blanket slid from shoulders, frost of the gusts greeted her as she observed her surroundings.delicate hands cradled the petaled buds as she brought them to her nose to inhale the scent. ——— the scent of the outside world. how addicting it was. ❛ ren ? ❜ question lingered on curious tongue. they directed pale rose hues at her , sitting on bed beside her , the springs giving way to their weight. the idea of escape dug into her bones. aches would not cease as they screamed at her to step upon fresh dew grass. ❛ tell me what the world is like. again. ❜ they took her snow crowned locks within their grasp. she flinched away but let them weave the flowers into her hair. looking at a stray moon dusted bloom between her fingers, she sighed. for now , the misery of the tower ceased with their words of adventure. ❛ tell me of the place where these pretty flowers are from. ❜ sweet hum emitted from honey glossed lips , sound filled the room with her artificial peace. from.

the assassin had never really cared for the mirror. they wondered if that had been the reason weiss thought them so intriguing, that they had always been more interested in the princess than a piece of reflective glass. ren knew the power that the mirror held; able to show one’s desires, from minute fantasies to their deepest, darkest secrets, and yet they’d been swayed from the temptation to look into it. what would they see when they looked inside ? didn’t a part of knowing what you wanted eventually make the desire more ravenous ? best to understand yourself from the inside out, rather than be dictated by what was essentially an outside party, no matter how omnipotent.

why ren continued to return they weren’t quite sure. the princess was a mystery, born into a position of near absolute power and still she wished for more. something interesting had clicked the night ren had first tried to take her life ; she had more loyalty to herself than what she was protecting. the assassin had been taught their entire lives to value the sustainability of the order over themselves. they were a pawn among dozens of disposable tools. what had been so alluring about weiss’ willingness to sabotage her father’s plans ? she didn’t care whose hands the the mirror fell into as long as she would be rid of it, the one and only key to the kingdom of atlas’ success.

maybe they admired her for it.

‘ the world outside is a destructive, violent place … ’ she was a princess. one would think that there would be servants for cleaning this kind of wreckage. did the king distrust everyone so adamantly they’d have weiss take care of this herself ? no doubt a mess she hadn’t even caused in the first place. the very first night ren had appeared there had been glass on the floor that night too. why didn’t she send for a nurse ? was that not allowed ? deft fingers belayed a kind of gentleness unbecoming of an assassin, soft touch among gossamer strands butterfly light. not for the last time they wondered why they didn’t just kill her and be done with it. the question still remained ; why hadn’t the assassin order told ren about the mirror ? maybe the answer would become clearer the more they learned about the princess.

weiss benefited more from ren’s visits than they did her. they couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something endearing in her reliance of ren’s stories. it was … nice to be appreciated for something other than how quickly they could render a body lifeless.

‘ — but there is more beauty out there than you could ever see from the confines of a mirror. ’ @mosaickd

#mosaickd #au / assassin.#ur writing still highkey kills me every time

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raptorsenshi · 7 years

Text

Completed Suits

For my own reference. I want to cry over how many I have near-finished but there last piece of a pavilion drop. Oh well. Only listing sets in the gallery because I’d be here all day putting in non-gallery suits.

Last Updated: 12/03/2021

List under the cut due to ridiculous length.

7 Nations

Apple Federal

Sakura Sky

From Another World

Serene Promise

Halloween Night

Dream of Dance

Fiery Feline

Break First

Shining Youth

Sweet Sniper

Wicked Witch

Summer Fantasia

Polar Variation

Star Poetess

Sweet Bubble Tea

Nimbus

Vanity Fair

Star Secret (+alt)

Modern Age

Dancing Heart

Blessed Time

Night Lily

Mark of Youth

Delicious Adventure

Black Cat Dream

Ode to Pearl

Rosy Waltz

Unicorn Goddess

Modern Queen

Idyllic Life

Sea Tea Party

Inspired by Summer (+alt)

Ingenious Trend

Night Adventure

Miss Lobster

Genki Plaid (+alt)

Frost Flutter

Exclusive

Frost Rose

Fall at First Sight

Miss Hesper

Boxed Dream

Rose Fragrance (+alt)

Adventurous Journey (+alt)

Backlight Chord

Soft Season

Colorful Moment

Final Song

Feast of Hunt

Fashion Revival (+alt)

Night Star (+alt)

Everlasting Melody

Celebrity’s Choice

Lollipop Sweetheart

Innocent Grey Bunny

Sweet Spell

Panda Brawler

Glittering Star

Nightingale

Ice Waltz

Demon Lament

Virtual Melody

Tornado Rhapsody

Peacock Pavane

Thunder Beat

Power Reinforce

Hip-hop Queen

Graffiti Tempest

Street Extreme

Treasured Years (+ alts)

Shopping

Vane of Fashion

Blue Fantasy

Track Blazer

Convallaria Bud

Prom Princess

Alumni Ace

Murmuring Love

Youth Storm

Kitten Kingdom

Vacation in Wintermount

White Blossom (working on alt)

Midnight Prisoner

Crime Buster

Sweet Superstar

Fluffy Heart

Love Letters to the Sky

Unfinished Promise

Memory Gone

Sakuramochi Rabbit

Little Adventurer

Chief Dresser

Baseball Girl

Feather Attached

Prime

Sunny’s Windowsill

Federal Policewoman

Banquet Phantom

Maple Fox

Taste of Salted Fish

Sugar Chestnut

Stormy Melody

Berry Powder Shaken/Raspberry Pink Rock (whatever name they go with)

Tipsy as Snow

Heavy Machinery

Bouquet Bike

Uncrowned Rose

Mrs. Frein

Wonderful Holidays

Rippling Silk

Shiba and Croak

Sly Angel

White Demon

Cherry Youth

Tigerkin

Night Breath

Lunar Spell (+ alt)

Sweet Sunshine

Sugar Cheerleader

Skateboard Girl

Trefoil Affair

Tender Puppy

Jingle Kitty

Summer Lemon

Picking Strawberry (+ alts)

Oil Painter (+ alt)

Magic Star

Flower Tale

Youth Melody

Jasmine

Vintage Lady

Sheer Dance

Dynamic Maiden (+ alts)

Deer Elf

Mori Girl

Ink Wash Painting

Time Idol

Detective Girl

Stripe Gentleman

Winter Angel

Wilds Flower

Blossom Season

Bright Galaxy

Dancing Queen

Panda Dreamland (+ alt)

Cowboy Style

Chocolate Housemaid

Mori Girl and Reindeer

Beautiful Agent

Sweet Pastry Cook (+alts)

Sexy Bad Girl

Angel in White

Fast Food Waitress

Sacred Doctor

Bunny Girl

Rock Singer

Diamond Mermaid

Lilith Kingdom

Magic of Sky

Witch Molly

Love Limited (+one alt, need last)

To the Bone

Star of Sweets

Peachy Demon

Demon’s Doll

Dream Park

Forest Spirit

Silk-cotton Spring (+alt)

Journey in Sweet Dreams

Monsoon Mood

Whale’s Song

Ocean Lullaby

Dresser Fairy

Symphony Star

Witch’s Wail

Stellar Witch

Snow Hare Dream

Magic Recipe

Ace Attorney (+alt)

Dream Defender

Sea Flower

Starry Mentor

Starry Fantasy

Lost in Dreamland

Witch Mischief

Bunny Magician

Frog in Monsoon

Cheers

Magic Key

Cloud Tea Party

Whale Calf

Tangled

Mushroom Adventure

Mint and Coco

Lucky Journey

Sandra Grass Secrets (+alt)

Stars in Wish Bottle

Puppy Guardian

Sunward Maiden

Nightmare Lullaby

Epic Magic <3 Mickey

Epic Magic <3 Minnie

Snowland Stitch

Easter Bunny

Maiden’s Prayer

Rainbow Invitation

Showcase of Dream

Dream and Star Rainbow (+alt)

Pudding Prevails

Dream Dessert

Diamond Dreamland

Autumn Pinecone

Flower of Magic Kiss

Nightmare Angel

Bun Bun and Baba Yaga (+alt)

Voice of Heart

Magic of Love

Magical Notes

Song of Sea Breeze (+alt)

Summer Catcher

Blue Sky Memory

Aroma of Love Letter

Star Prophet

Thorny Rose

Daydreamer

Fantasy Flyer

Covenant Servant

Fluffy Gentleman

Fondant Game

City Dream

Guard of Glory

Alice’s Time Gate

Rain of Plum Blossom (+ alts)

Song of Night Sky

Dessert Fairy (+alt)

Leaf’s Lyric

Golden String

Sweet Tailor

Handbell in the Wind (+alt)

Melody of Stars

Spring Sakura

Star’s Blessings (+alt)

Cruise Fairytale

Garden Diary

Course at Dawn (+alt)

Tune at Dawn

Rabbit and Camellias

Satiroth’s Sheep

Dreamy Afternoon Tea (+alt)

Heaven Messenger (+alt)

Red Shoes

Maiden’s Romance (+ alts)

Heart Knight

Grice (+alt)

Marionette Grice

Military Princess

Chocolate Story (+ alt)

Heart of Miracles (+ alt)

Ballad for Adeline

Candy Doll

Fluffy Lop

Star Seer

Dreamland Teatime

Cutie Strawberry

Flower Field

Glossing Rose

Alice in Wonderland

Cake Manor

Miss Puff

Night Lolita

Locco’s Tea Party

Gothic Lolita

Red Hood’s Adventure

Prime Secretary

Mid-summer Stars (need alts)

Cloud Empire

Travelling Vendor

Fortune in Fog

White Fox

Peach Prose

Dark Dragon Knight

Restrained Romance

Singing Swallow

Tasty Fair

Ephemeral Fantasy

Divine Deer

Sakura in Dream

Fairy Flow (+alts)

God of Wind

Peach Heart

Lost in Mist (+alt)

Colourful Snow Wishes

Kagura Priestess

Fresh Bamboo

Raindrop

Phoenix Song

Bamboo Recluse

Prayer Dancer

Janggu Forever

Moon in Mist (+alt)

Raccoon On the Move

Butterfly Fairy

Dream Echo

Moon Visitor

Magpie Song (+alt)

Healing Agarwood

Samadhi Snow

Painted Fan

Budding Spring

Inky Meow (+alt)

Fox’s Trace

Lotus Prince

Incredible Brush

Crane Zitherist

Spring Wind (+alt)

Dark Tide at Night (+alt)

World Watcher

Blessed Qilin

Magic Cleam <3 Minnie

On the Road (+alt)

Feather Beauty

Frosty Crimson

Snowy Ballads

Morrow Travel Song

Sunset Butterfly

Hellish Bloom

Pragya Princess

Nekomata

Silk Aroma

Hidden in Hanabi

Lotus Picking

Winged Dancer

Guiding Green

Red Flower

Missing You

Black Swallow (+alt)

Sound of Fall

Fox Bride

Feminine Chivalry (+alt)

Floral Cove

Silk Petals (+ alts)

Ocean Angling

Willow and Swallow

Bamboo Breeze

Light Spring

Inked Bamboo Slip

The Tide (+alts)

Return to Autumn

Cloudy Prayer

Watery Lord

Truth Seer

Maneki-Neko

Fleeting Life in Snow

Song of Divinity (+ alts)

Sound of Heaven (+ alts)

Ink-Core Chess (+ alt)

Wind in Starry Wilderness (+ alt)

Bamboo Shadow in Pond

Intern Miko

Cold Red

Golden Wheat

Jade Orchid

Bloom of Youth (+alt)

Savior

Nether Fire

Elegant Tune

Evil Oppressor

Ultimate of the Way

Yama Judge

Flower Mirror

Soul Guide

Chilled Charm

Tea Break

Magic Pocket Watch

Cat and Writer

Yatai Waitress

Bath in Starry Sky

Goldfish Girl

Miss Goldfish

Future Capriccio (+alt)

Dark Crane

Flower Song in Fan

Magnificent Peacock

Peony Pavilion

Flourish Peach (+alt)

Bright Sakura/Sweet Hanbok

Beauty in Painting

Flower Under Moonlight

Shutendoji

Wine Wanderer

Tengu

Zashiki

Fallen Butterfly

After Snow

Lotus Lady

Morning Dew (+alt)

Crane and Flower

Yuki

Brocade Jade

Koinobori Kimono (+alts)

Fallen Flowers

Wisdom of Quill Fan (+alts)

Orchid

Blue Phoenix Messenger

Elegant Hibiscus

Crimson Creek

Wind Whisperer

Silver Embroidery

Gentle Toona

Solitary Exorcist (+alt)

Singing Phoenix

Umbrella Memory

Mist Fairy (+alt)

Long Street Flavour

Ink Carp

Water Lily’s Promise (+ alt)

Phoenix of Genesis (+ alt)

Dragon of Apocalypse (+alt)

Bamboo Song

Flower Lyric

Poppy Fox

Lingering Butterfly

Response to Crane

Bamboo Pavilion

Diving Carp

Tarot Fortuneteller

Stunning Beauty (+ alt)

Polychrome

Spring Camellia

Lotus Chant

Moon in Water

Flower in Mirror

Ink Orchid

Sword Girl

The Purest Heart

Orchid’s Chant

Dragon Maiden

Green Willow

Maple Leaf Ninja

Elegant Phalaenopsis-Pink (+ alt)

Flying Peafowl

Tender April

Royal Beauty

Western Dancer

Higanbana Princess

Story of Shanghai

Fragrance Villa (+ alts)

Cinnabar Cloud

Afterglow

Epic Empress

Pigeon Kingdom

Polar Monster

Autumn’s Kiss

Abyssal Creeper

Night Toll

Fairy Tale of Star and Moon

Melia’s Invitation

Miss Kate’s Tea Party

Bad Hunter

Rosy Manifesto (+alt)

Elf of Holy Spring (+alt)

Traveler in Mist

Decisive Duel

Knightly Courtesy

Bonefish

Mechanician Poet

Rose Heart

Ode of Dawn

Eternal Fantasy

Dragon Knight

Pegasus’s Dream

Feathery Dream

Detective X

Pure Adventurer

Snow Sovereign

Coronation Anna

Coronation Elsa

Redeemed Goddess

Harvest Ceremony

Lasting Memory

Feather of Purity

Lady Beverly

Arctic Aurora

Bold Adventurer

Pirate of Harrod

Song of Freedom

After Rain

Dark Butterfly

Night Rose Bride

Cinderella

The Little Mermaid

Crimson Cavalier (+alt)

Regards from Afar

Night March (+alt)

Peace March (+alt)

Mirror Tale

Radiance of Freedom (+alt)

Wind Bell Fantasia

Rose Elegy

Lyrical Lyre

Astral Words (+alt)

Clover CarnivalRose Palace

Rose Palace

Where Wind Dwells

Romantic Moment

Blood Beckon

Red Nightmare

Moon Justice

Wind Traveller

Chant of Devotion

Dark Raven

Hearty Poem

Melt (+alt)

Storm Tamer

Treasure Keeper

Diana’s Dream

Attachment of Spectre

Demon’s Game

Heart of Winter

Rose Oath

Galaxy Goddess

Tales of Starry Night

Sealed Heart

Starlight Serenade

Eternal Instant

Dark Poem

Bounty Hunter

Flower Feather

Years of Love

Past Glory (+alt)

Kindred Earl

Ode to Glory

White Night Chant

Minstrel of Time

Guardian of Purity

Shadow Fiend

Miss Swenny

Icy Laurel

Fiery Sky

Clover’s Ceremony

White Forest

Roving Rifle

Witch Hecate

Lantern Elf (+alt)

Sky Conqueror

Demon Huntress

Snow Stone Tusk

Deicide Kalpa

Butterfly Shade

White Masquerade

Wandering Wraith

Abyss Apparition

Dream Travel

Bell Tower Phantom

Heart of Puppet

Warfare Terminator

Forest Legend (+alt)

Royal Doctor (+alt)

Idyll

War and Love (+ alts)

Blossom Intone (+ alt)

Flowers Poem (+alt)

Mechanical Romance

Crown of Dawn

Kiss of Crescent

Time Flies

Starlight Psalm

Time Controller (+alt)

Lightbringer

Iris in Painting

Night Wish

Canopy of Wisdom

Phoenix Butterfly Mystery (+alt)

Jewel of Ocean

Black Rose

Steel Lily

Sweet Breeze

Wings of Steam

Magnificent Flower

Crystal Lady

Anna’s Party

Ice Blue Rose

Magnolia Scent (+ alt)

Heidi Song

Silent Flowering

Mrs. Sylvia

Crown of Love

Casablanca

Vernal Maid

Snow Queen

Lightly Dancing Butterfly (+ alts)

Royal Elegance (+ alts)

Crane Berry

Yanila Pirate

Maid Charlet

Olivia’s Dance

Mask Feast (+ alt)

Steam Punk (+ alt.)

Snow Lotus

Master Magician

Sanctity Angel

Pastoral Pearl (+ alts)

Stygian Death (+ alts)

Crystal Rose

Nightly Spirit

Assassin’s Faith (+ alt)

Voice of Prayer

Socialite

Sapphires the Phantom Thief

Light Fairy (+ Dark Elf alt)

Queen of Deer Elf

Miss Anna

Lily Fairy

The Gentle Madam

Duke’s Daughter

Age of Steam

Rose Maiden

Nikki Mechanical

Princess Jellyfish

Madam Butterfly

North Kingdom

Awesome Agent

Dreams in a Dark Night

Glacial Trend

Snow Dumpling

Polar Tempest (+alt)

Oath of Honour

War in Winter

Dream Sky

Beat of Abyss

Memory Gear (Just need the alt coat WHY)

Spring in the North

Snow Wolf

Memory on Snowfield (+alt)

Red-haired Asura

Silent Hermit

Clair’s Wish

Icewind Warchant (+alt)

Path of Glory

Fiery Front

Winter Battlefield

Song of Blaze (+ alts)

Army Major (+ Lieutenant Commander)

Maple Leaf (+ alt)

Northern Soldier

Republic of Wasteland

Worship Dance

Royal Lotus

Coconut Island

The Legend of Light

Kiss of Flame

Night of Light

Snowland Shepherd

Desert Jewel

Flowers in the Wildness (+alt)

Star Invoker

Dusk and Dawn

Lion Overwatch

Beast Warrior

Star Rite

Sunflower

Wavy Cloud Shadows

Phantom in Desert

Golden Shadow

Hunting Ranger

Goddess of Peacock

Circles of Moon Shadow (+alt)

Astral Islets

Wind Deep Legend

Colourful Dreams

Star Priest

Magician of the Wild

Soul Seer

Golden Sunshine

Soaring Eagle

Golden Dancer

Tribe Totem (+ alt)

Ruin Island

Dream of Phantom

Virtual Violinist

Rogue Hunter

The Awakened

Dazzling Heartbeats

Star Fantasy

Perfect Hunter

Dazzling Idol (+alt)

Space Fantasy

True Shot

Void Listener

Explosion

Deepsea Secret

Scarlet Sin

Thunder Destroyer

Eternal Tides

Overdrive Cycle

Kagamine Rin

Kagamine Len

Hatsune Miku

Magical Mirai 2018

Magical Mirai 2017

Magical Mirai 2016

Magical Mirai 2015

Humanoid Source Code

Death of Data

Dawn Blade

Shadow Track

Volt Ciel

Passion 404

Artificial Idol

Momo’s Adventure

Streamer Code

Cosmos Sound

Nebula Echo

Cosmos Tide

Mechanical Hub

Blue Longing

Angelica’s Dream

Volley Lucia

NR-001

Aurora Oval (+ alt)

War on Ruins (+ ‘Virus’)

Mechnical Heart

Future Space (+ alt)

On to the other categories!

Festivals

Tempted Moment

Honey Spring

Horn of Surprise

Fabled Night

Sparkle of Stars

Lone Wolf

Flame Witch

Moonlight Encounter

Encounter in Dream

Sunny Language

Singing Field

Dancing Wheat

Spring Stitch

Green Wind

Gone With the Song

Dark Night Moonlight

Guarding Wings

Cotton Cloud

Falling Feather

Diamond Ring

Anniversary

Drunken Moon Lantern

Rat of Renewal

Lucky New Year

Christmas Fantasy

Sparkling Cupcake

Haunted Heart

Floral Movement

Bubble Song

Silver Feather

Toy Carnival

Spring Wonderland

Colourful Gift

Kite Karma (+alt)

Cerise’s Gift

Lantern Fair

Piggy Bun Shop

Chubby Lucky

Christmas Puppet Show

Song of Youth

Pumpkin Kaidan

Moonlight Muse

Blind Love

Dance in Cloud

Game of Cards

Promising Parade

Spring Fantasia

Dreamy Flowing Light

Blessed Bark

Sweet Toy

Warm Christmas Eve

Snowy Night Bless

A Psalm of Time

Moon Chaser

Candy Adventure

Youth Memory

Wormwood by Riverside

Ode to Time

Childlike Party

Aria of Night

Joker and Magic Card

Arrow of Affection

New Wishes

Ode to Lantern

Christmas Adventure

Rondo of Snowy Night

Sweet Wish

Maple Sugar Magic

Sweet Osmanthus

Moonlight Dancer

Silver Wish

Youth Poem

Gifty’s Adventure

Joker Diamond Mask

Circus Night

Sweet Love

Rose Romance

Sweet Heart

Fortune Monkey

Princess Azhar

Dress Song

Colorful Christmas

Reindeer’s Blessing

Pink Wishes

Halloween Fantasy (+alt)

Luna Angel (+ alts)

Lonely Valentine’s Night

Peach Melody

The Wonderland

Dream Sail

Troupe

Summer’s Ardor

Spring’s Wonder

Autumn’s Promise

Winter’s Grace

Pure Sonata

Royal March (+alt)

Lost Spell

Apprentice Wizard

Surprise

Dream of Star City

Summer Color

Glimmer and Dream (+alt)

Pine Curse/Wood Witch(+alt)

Monochrome Symphony

Sky Rhapsody

Clarinet Concerto

March of Lilith

Fire of Blood Parrot

Soul Requiem

Song of Dream Parrot

Sanctity Aria

Black Swan

White Swan

Star Sea

Romeo

Four Seasons

Valiant Phantom (+alts)

Shallow Sky Trip (+alts)

Winter Rhyme (+alt)

Star Bud (+alt)

South Wind Star (+alts)

JinJin’s Journey (+alts)

Rising Star (+alt)

Rabbit Sweet (+alt)

Classical Ceramic (+ alt)

Heart Cross

Cunning Imp (+ alt)

Starlit Sword

Live Report

Light Sweet Pace (+alts)

Innocent Pet (+alt)

Ruins & Black Cat

Ice Blue Classical Dream (+alt)

Stars and Dreams (+alts)

Elegant Sketch (+alts)

Flower Fairy Mevilla (+ alts)

Kitten Sketchbook (+ alts)

Rule of Love (+ Love Guide alt)

Heroine in Armor (+ alt)

Ink Tale

Dream Dress

Pure Lotus

Fairy Tale Cutie

Stars

Deer of Net Moon

Rabbit of Moon Sun

Earth of Bat Girl

Fire Tiger of Tail

Moon Vixen

Golden Dragon

Happiness

Destiny of Begonia

Hall of Oath

Pure White Love Song

Moonlight Sonata

Oath of Flower Rain

Dream Wedding

Poetic Future

Farewell to Boudoir

Destined Fate

For the vows of love

Happy Embroidery

Childlike Love

Wisteria Vow

Realized Dream

Wonder Museum

Ancient Fossil Hall

Back to Prehistory

Golden Balance

Story Suits

Evernight’s Dream

Dreampath for Travelers

Dream Bagpiper

White Queen

Night’s Queen

Princess Dawn

Ghost Gathering

Miss Bone

Underworld Lord

Four Seasons

Wind’s Whisper

Cloud’s Smile

Lantern Wish

Flute’s Thoughts

Galactic Classics

Stellar Atlas

Bond in Distance

Warmth Nearby

Caelum et Ocean

Winged Journey

Ocean Dream

Art of War

Flashing Wind

Poised Forest

Invading Fire

Firm Mountain

Prosperous Reign

Old Album

City Subway

Melody of Whale

Symphonic Poem of Future

Soul Bruce

Prelude to Youth

Flower Season Melody

One-Way Train

Farwell Note

Autumn Firefly

Old Dream in Fleeting Light

Flow of Time

First Wind

Rose Kiss

Illusive Snow

Watching Moon

Cloud Realm

Daymare Fairy Tale

Glorious Chapter

Aster Guardian

World in Dream

Blood Moon

Blood Lust

Flickering Pistil

Mountains and Seas

Shapeshifter Neko

Yin Yang

Garden of Spiral Staircase

Fleeting Dream

World in a Game

Jealous Phantom

Night Banquet

Universe Tide

Ice Abyss Echo

Black White Puzzle

Reed Thought

Lost Fairy Tale

Arcane Astrolobe

Frozen Crown

Oceanic Spirit

Apocalyptic Angel

Alluring Abyss

Light in Mirror

Eerie Nightmare

Gilt Dance

Rosy Tour (+alt)

Light Chaser

Dawn Vision (+alt)

Flame Gunner (+alt)

Night’s Shore

Mermaid’s Music

Star Sea Safari

Azure Adventure

I’ll update as I complete more/more suits are released.

#love nikki dress up queen #love nikki #love nikki game #miracle nikki #nikki up2u #reference #completed sets #long post #not as many as some people but lmao i've only been playing like.. .two months-ish???#and me being my dumbass self can't just ocus on one set at a time oh no #i have to do it the hard way

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