#risk of rain vex

[limbus-company-update]

Ok hear me out, a vtuber models but they look like either these two

[blorbologist]

how about 12 with vex? :)

12. Blindness/Deafness

"You can blind or deafen a foe. Choose one creature that you can see within range to make a Constitution saving throw. If it fails, the target is either blinded or deafened (your choice) for the duration."

[Inspired by this post]

Is it a bit ironic that Vex’ahlia is Pelor’s Champion? Hero of the sun? 

Oh, definitely.

Ironic? Oh, she knows those who don’t know better would protest to that.

To most of the citizenry of Whitestone, this would be perfectly apt. The brave and beautiful Lady Vex’ahlia - who drew their young Lord from darkness, took part in leading the whole city back into the light - she knows she’s already being hailed as such.

It’s - it’s actually very charming, and sweet, and when she teases Percy about it he gets such a smitten look to him. And she likes it, she does. Can’t fault Whitestone for wanting a bit of hope - but she’d have thought the townsfolk would know better. 

They know, probably better than most, how badly the sun can blind you.

Picture this: a young Vex’ahlia, only not little because of a growth spurt. Brace yourself and imagine her in Syngorn. No excuse to have a hood up, hiding her ears, should it be a beautiful day. Easier to not get immediately recognized as the Vessar bastard in the shade. The one time she reached for the sun - gold and emeralds, in a tiara made for her ancestors - she got burned. She learned. 

Just because Vax’ildan is

Just because Vax’ildan was the rogue does not mean he is

Does not mean he was the only one to appreciate the cover of shadow. 

Sunlight, Vex learned over the years, was a risk. A luxury, one she could rarely afford. Bright light revealed her to game and predators alike. It gleamed off coins to reveal her brother’s sleight of hand. Open grounds meant money meant trouble.

She’s spent a lot of her life avoiding its gaze. The attention did her no favors - and she could only stomach attention that did. That she could use, spin into a better room, another bounty, better pay.

The sun was warm, and decadent, and a risk. It took a lot of work to teach herself otherwise - with friends to watch her back. With security, and funds. And Percy. She can (or could) lounge in a sunbeam like a cat and enjoy the hard-earned gold on her skin.

Now its (his? Is the sun a he, like its god?) eye is upon her, always, and it’s an excruciating contrast.

Elven eyes are not made for constant, incessant light. Only the drow really suffer for its abundance - but if you look, most elves will squint and tactfully avoid direct light for long periods of time. Just as their eyes gleam gold-green when lit in the dark, they narrow in protest when it’s too bright. 

Every time she steps outside, without fail, it’s sunny. Which was a lovely thing, at first, before the weight of it really began to settle on Vex’s shoulders. She is outside almost daily, due to her duties with the Grey Hunt. Now she’s arranged to delegate more of the time training recruits, and even avoid patrols in her beloved forest. The weather catches up on tantrums and dreary rain when she elects to spend the days inside. 

By cruel coincidence she always wakes facing the dawn, now - at dawn, as the sun first winks over the Alabaster Sierras. She’s almost considered asking Percy if they could change rooms - instead she’s tactfully used her husband as a shield, so even if she turns in her sleep she wakes in his chest and not to a devastating sunrise.

The one day they tried for a picnic, Vex had been so grateful Percy chose to nestle their blanket between the Sun Tree’s roots. But even in the shade of the tree the heat was loud. Pouring through the leaves, bowing them like heavy rain, and beating against her ears, inside her head. It was deafening. 

What she can’t stand is that not the change. It’s trivial, fucking trivial, compared to the fact Vax

Trivial compared to other upheavals, lately. Need to wear shades? She can do that. Put on more tinctures to deal with sunburn. Even deal with everyone seeing her coming, not like she trained to move silently and without notice for several months or anything. 

What has her unsettled is… given all this, how badly this shoe fits…

“Why me?” she asks Percy one night, when the sun’s attention is on the opposite side of the world and she can feel that and it’s disquieting. “Why did Pelor choose me, Percy?”

He hums, pulling her up a bit more to nestle her head under his chin. She feels him grin when she presses a smile to his throat out of reflex. “Well. I get credit for choosing you. He simply approved of my excellent taste.”

Percy’s chuckle dies when she does not respond to his cheer. “Vex, dear?”

“I mean. We both can agree I’m, just, so beautiful, and brilliant, and hot,” she says. Stalls. “But - the Champion of Pelor? The sun god? Me? Sunny?”

“Probably not the best descriptor,” he admits. “Though I think I could convince you of the similarities.”

Vex is perhaps a bit too unsettled by all this to roll her eyes. Which, she suspects, is what gets Percy to hold her a little tighter. 

“You burn, dear.” Percy presses a kiss to her temple. “Even before all this, and ignoring the whole Orthax ordeal. Vox Machina’s guiding beacon, without which we would be bumbling in the dark. How a room would orbit you and you could so easily dictate others to your whims. You inspire growth, and joy, and trust. The sun will always rise, and set, and warm us in the meantime.” He pauses, then, a touch too long if not for how his mind works. “So often, I would look at you and it would hurt if I stared too long. That’s very sunlike.”

“I knew you were looking at my ass,” Vex mumbles. Her husband snorts. He makes worry impossible, holding her like this, sounding so fucking romantic.

“Don’t be crass,” he scolds cheerfully. “I was admiring you. From a distance. Because you were also a little terrifying.”

Vex pulls back with great reluctance to scrutinize him. He’s serious. “Me? Scary? Darling, we were traveling with Grog.”

“As well as -” he changes course: “And I had a solid hunch I’d be gutted like a fish if some people caught me staring. But no - you, Vex’ahlia, had me impressed. Which was scary for me, that anyone could be impressive other than myself.”

“I love the arrogance, darling.”

Percy snuggles her back in to kiss her cheek. The pressure brings to Vex’s attention the faint glow of her freckles. “I do, too. There was… something, even then. You kept people at a distance with the cold front. But it felt like it was that or burn them alive, because  - like if you dropped your guard the intensity would be blinding.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about Keyleth?”

He makes a face. “I certainly hope I’m not talking about Keyleth. I love her, but that’s my best friend, I - ugh.”

Now Vex feels well enough to roll her eyes, trace patterns into his shoulder to draw his mind away. “Maybe I’m just like the sun because I’m eating myself alive. Burning at the expense of anything else. And bring pretty sunlight that scorches the earth to drought and gives deathly pale nerds a sunburn.”

“Darling.” This time it’s Percy who pulls away, gently tilting her chin up. “Sineath, remember?”

Fuck him, his pronunciation has gotten perfect.

She grumbles vaguely in response. 

Percy takes the time to think, running his fingers through her hair, sometimes kissing her gently. She catches the reflection of the glow here and there - in his teeth, warming his skin, gleaming on his wedding ring.

“I think,” he says eventually, quietly, gently, “that the dawn can be scary, after so long in the dark. And it takes a bit of doing to feel like you can stomach being so seen.” 

Vex nods into his neck. 

“And,” Percy continues, “I’ll endure it too, if I can. Not that I’m a Champion of anyone, but… well. Get a tan with you, I guess?”

She snorts. “Oh, you’d look so silly!”

“I will sacrifice all that and more for you,” said so very gravely. Vex’s stomach does a giddy little flip.

(Maybe she’s being a little touchy about this. Because it’s not Pelor’s fault, that everything is too bright and too loud, but there’s a correlation that’s safer to blame for how she is right now. Oversensitive.)

(Maybe she has an idea - just an idea - as to why.)

(Maybe.)

“You answered your own question. Earlier.”

“Oh?”

“It’s fitting, that the Champion of the solar deity be hot.”

Vex takes a second before smacking his chest with a pillow. “Flatterer.”

“I speak only the truth!”

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Chapter 1: A Long Walk (Wildfires to Rain Storms)

Hey yall! This is the first chapter of my new fic that I am so excited to finally share with you. I'm also trying a new way of posting fics <3

Read on ao3 (3k)

The Emon forest stretches for miles and miles, the landscape full of trees and plains and ponds and rivers. But with such natural beauty comes the risk of fires.

It’s easy for a single blade of dry grass to catch a blaze and it’s even easier for that flame to spread across the entire plain in a matter of minutes. And then to the trees, sending birds fleeing for safety, other critters not far behind them. Dense smoke would fill the air, choking out the sun until all that remains is a thick haze of ash and smoke.

And then the rain would come, a cool summer rain to stop the inferno in its tracks. The ash would turn to soil, the dead trees fall, and things would continue as they were always meant to. Growth. Fire. Rain. Repeating until the end.

It's a comforting cycle to those who understand it. After fire always comes rain. The fire can’t burn forever. The bad times will be over soon. And in its place, new plants will grow.

Vex doesn’t know how much she believes in that metaphor. 

Sometimes the fire only grows worse and worse and worse until there is nothing left but barren land, the wind scattering the ashes and pushing the fire onward. And sometimes rain comes with no fire, with no herald. Sometimes it rains for no good reason at all.

Vex rolls her eyes at herself, a few hours outside of civilization and she’s already waxing poetic. This summer is going to be a long one, no doubt. And yet she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

There’s not a trail this far from civilization. 

What some people don’t realize about hiking trails is that they have to end somewhere, usually there’s a loop or a sign marking the end of the trail, but here there’s nothing, just the dirt path gradually melting back into grass and plant covered ground. 

Taking out her compass, Vex double checks that she’s heading the correct direction before tucking it away with a slight smile. Of course she’s right, she’s always had an impeccable sense of direction.

She takes a long breath of the fresh air, feeling it cleanse the dirty, city air from her lungs. Not for the first time she considers just running into the forest and spending the rest of her days here in the woods with Trinket. 

She looks down at the dog trotting happily at her side, tongue lolling from his mouth. Just like her, he’s always happier out here. There are so many new smells, trails to follow, squirrels to chase. And rivers to jump in. Gods, Vex is already dreading having to give him a bath out here.

The green leaves of summer surround them, shifting playfully in the warm breeze, catching in the sunlight. In the distance she can hear the babbling of the river and chirping birds and the rustling of leaves somewhere to the West.  This far into the wilderness, the sounds of cars and people don’t reach her, and they won’t for three months. 

Vex has been working at fire lookout towers for three years now and she can’t think of a better way to spend the end of summer and fall. Here there aren’t any deadlines or cars hoking or stuffy air or garbage and piss covering the streets. Here it’s just clean air and freedom and so much beautiful land to explore.

Her backpack slung high on her back, Vex walks with a spring in her step, something she only finds deep in the woods. There’s an easy smile on her face as she follows her heading to the lookout tower. 

Her feet tread easily over roots and rocks, mostly thanks to the rather expensive hiking boots Vax bought her for their birthday a few weeks prior. She’s wearing her favorite shorts with plenty of pockets for Trinket’s treats and her compass and on top of that, a tank top and a flannel to keep her skin safe from sunburn despite the heat. And a baseball hat to do the same. This one bears the emblem of her favorite climbing gym.

For the next three months the only contact she’ll have is with whatever poor sod they found to keep lookout in the North tower. 

It’s been a different person all three years and for good reason. The North tower is by far the worst one, it’s poorly taken care of since it’s much more remote. You need to be either a skilled rock climber or willing to walk two hours in the wrong direction to get there. 

But Vex puts off those thoughts, instead reaching for her radio. Vax dropped her off at the trailhead less than a day ago and she’s been hiking for almost that long, having slept on the trail during the night. Now, she knows that she’s about to go out of range of their radios.

So taking a quick break, she sits on a downed log and asks, “Vax, are you there? Over.”

There’s some crackling and then her brother’s voice comes through the shitty radio, “Hey, Stubby, already wanting to turn back?”

Vex chuckles, “As if. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out of range shortly, I’ll be at the tower by dusk.”

“Alright, Kiki’s working tonight so she’ll be the one to answer when you get there.” Vex can hear the pride in his voice at that. Keyleth worked her ass off to get a job at forest services. “Safe travels, Vex, stay safe. I love you.”

“Love you too, bird brain. See you in October.”

With a click, she turns the radio off and keeps walking with a smile. 

The remainder of the hike, thankfully, goes quickly. Even though she’s done much longer hikes than this, she still feels exhausted by the time the sun begins to set. It’s the sight of the lookout tower in the distance that keeps her going.

It’s an imposing figure, shadowed this way. Its four legs and large room up top make it look almost like some kind of monster, like the ones she used to hear folktales about. Vex shakes her head quickly, those kinds of monsters aren’t real.

She finally arrives at the tower just after sunset, Vex plodding up the steps slowly. The stain has long since worn off the boards, leaving them grey and full of splinters, she knows better than to use the railing. When she gets to the top, after three flights of stairs, she makes her way to the breaker box, flooding the darkness of the night with light.

Despite the tension in her shoulders and the pure exhaustion running through her, she can’t help but relax as she unlocks the rickety door, feeling at home for the first time in months. 

Trinket immediately plods over to the large dog bed by the foot of the bed, makes a single circle, and plops down to sleep. Vex chuckles, dropping her backpack by the door as she walks over to the long range radio on the table. Static fills the room as she tunes it until she reaches the number scrawled on a sticky note beside the radio.

Once she’s locked in, Vex smiles and says, “This is East lookout checking in, over.”

A crackle and then Keyleth’s pleasant voice reaches her, “We hear you, East lookout, did you make the trip alright, over?”

Vex smiles, “A bit slower than expected, but just fine. You better put some dog treats in the next supply drop, Trinket has more than earned them. Over.”

Keyleth laughs, “Noted. Get some rest, check in in the morning for debrief. Over and out.”

With that permission given, Vex sits down on the bed. It’s creaky and lumpy and thin but she loves it all the same. She unties her hiking boots and doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas before curling up under her blankets.

As she lies down, she can’t help but look out the window across from her. In the far distance, she can see the glowing light of the other lookout tower. Despite how far away it is, she finds the presence comforting all the same.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep after that.

The morning comes far too quickly for Vex’s liking. The sun beams down on her face and no amount of hiding her face under the blankets will block it out . Vex groans and drags herself out of bed.

Might as well take stock of all her supplies and get ready for the day before radioing to forest services and officially starting her summer.

A quick look through the cabinets tells Vex that the next supply drop should be coming soon, probably before the end of the week since the previous lookout left a few days prior. So she grabs a full bag of granola and shoves a handful of it into her mouth as she gives Trinket his breakfast as well. 

He gobbles it down quickly before returning to his bed and falling back asleep. Vex chuckles, “You poor dear, you’re so exhausted.” She pets his head pitifully before laughing and grabbing a change of clothes before heading down to the showers.

Of course the water is freezing cold and the water pressure is absolute shit so it’s not the most relaxing shower she’s ever had, but it does the job of removing the sweat and dirt from yesterday’s hike.

Once she’s dressed and her hair is braided and she’s back in the tower, she sits down in front of the radio.

“East lookout checking in, good morning, forest services, over.” Vex leans back in her chair, looking out at the forest before her. At this peak of summer it’s still lush and green, but Vex is looking forward to the leaves turning amber and crimson. 

“Good morning, East lookout,” Keyleth greets back cheerfully despite the early hour. An overnight shift for her then, and yet she still sounds just as chipper as always. “There are just two things I need to go over with you. First, North lookout arrived a few weeks ago so reach out to him sometime today and let him know you’ve arrived.”

“Noted, over,” Vex replies. 

“Second, there’s a small fire towards the Southwest, we’re not concerned about it yet, just keep an eye out.” Vex immediately starts taking notes as Keyleth goes over how long the fire has been burning, where it has started, and wind directions. “South lookout has been evacuated just in case. And after this check in this frequency should be kept free for emergencies only. Over.”

“Copy,” Vex responds. “How worried should I be about the fire? Over.”

“We’re not classifying it as a wildfire yet and we’re hopeful some rain will stop the spread or put it out before we have to have it professionally extinguished. Over.”

“Thanks, Keyleth.” Vex smiles after a moment, asking, “Is there anything you can tell me about North lookout? Over.”

Keyleth chuckles, “And ruin the surprise? I’ll let you figure out that enigma for yourself. If you need anything, Vex, don’t hesitate. Over.”

“Will do. Thank you, please tell my idiot brother to stop worrying about me, over and out.” 

Vex drums her fingers against the table, her eyes drifting to the lookout tower to the north. It’s harder to see in the daylight, but she still spots it easily. An enigma, hm? 

In past years, the lookouts have mostly been filled with either no-nonsense rangers or shut-ins who only wanted to communicate if there was a strict need. Perhaps Keyleth calling him an enigma means that there will be conversation to be had with him. Gods she hopes so, especially since they need to keep the frequency clear to forest services frequency.

Checking her watch, she figures she should give the man in the North Tower a bit more time to wake up before reaching out. 

Perfect time for a quick hike. After tying her hiking boots and packing a few supplies, she whistles for Trinket. He bounds over happily, tail already wagging. Vex kneels down as she ruffles his fur, “First hike of the summer, are you ready?”

Trinket plants his paws on her legs and licks up her cheek. She laughs, pushing him away with a groan. “Come on then, Trinket.” She opens the door and the two of them quickly jog down the stairs and set out into the wilderness.

With the early morning sun shining on their faces, Vex and Trinket make their way to one of their favorite spots out here. It’s called Red Run River due to the color of the rocks that line its shores. Though, it’s not much of a river, more of a shallow creek made of mountain snow so it’s always cold. 

Once Trinket figures out where they’re going, he starts sprinting towards it, whining petulantantly when Vex is too slow for him. She laughs at her dog, “You can go ahead, buddy, it’s just right there.” But as always, Trinket refuses to stray far from her side and instead just continues whining about the pace. 

“You know,” Vex tells him, “I’m going to tell Keyleth you’re being a bad sport and then she won’t send you more treats.” As if he can see right through her lie, Trinket huffs and keeps plodding along by her side.

When the river comes into their sight, there is no holding back Trinket any longer. He sprints towards it, leaping into the shallow water and stomping his feet in excitement. He tries to bite at the water spray, not quite understanding why he can’t.

Vex smiles as she sits down at the bank, taking off her shoes and socks to sink her feet into the cold water with a sigh. She can feel the smooth river rocks under her feet and the muck beneath those. Trinket has thankfully scared away any fish from her feet.

Her mind is quiet out here, maybe that’s what she loves about it. That and the lack of service. No clingy ex-boyfriends or uncaring fathers trying to get her attention. Just her and whoever the fuck is in the North tower. It’s with a sigh that Vex remembers him. 

It’s taken them about half an hour to make it here so Vex figures now is as good a time as any to reach out to her neighbor in the North tower before the day gets longer. She takes her radio from her pack.

“North lookout, this is East lookout, come in. Over,” she says, making sure to speak clearly. 

There’s a long pause and she half expects there to be radio silence when a voice crackles through to her, “This is East lookout, I’m here. Over.” It’s a man, her age, posh accent and Vex would probably say wealthy judging by the tone of his voice. Odd. 

“I’m Vex, glad to be spending the summer with you.” The sentiment is false, but might as well start off on a good note. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“Not at all, I’ve only been alone here for a few days, your predecessor got a late start on his hike back. I’m Percival Frederick-...just Percy, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Did forest services tell you about the wildfire Southwest? Over.”

“Yes, they just said to keep an eye on it. They said they expect rain and that should hopefully stop the spread.” There is a long pause of awkward silence. Soon enough Vex can’t take it anymore, saying, “I’ll let you get back to your morning, just thought I’d introduce myself. Over.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Percy tells her stiffly. “Over and out.”

Vex taps her finger thoughtfully against the plastic exterior of her radio. He’s not what she was expecting. He sounds younger, about her age. And Keyleth called him an enigma. She can’t help but wonder what kinds of secrets he’s hiding, but to be fair, no one chooses this job without at least a dozen secrets. Gods know she has her fair share of them. 

Something to ponder at least, before the summer goes on too long.

She sighs and lays back, dragging her toes through the water as she gazes up at the sun. She is able to all but tune out Trinket playing and just breathes in the fresh air. At least until Trinket bounds out of the river, shaking his thick fur and spraying all over her.

Vex sits up with a gasp, “ Trinket! ” The dog quickly starts wagging his tail and pads over to Vex, shoving his nose under her hand.

“Buddy…” Vex sighs as she starts to pet him. Somehow he’s gotten himself completely wet from head to toe. She sighs, “I’m going to need to rinse you off before you are allowed inside.” As though he understands her words, Trinket whines, resting his head on her knee pitifully. She rolls her eyes, “You're lucky it’s not a bath.”

With sigh, Vex lies back down, this time with her dog’s massive, wet head, resting on her stomach.

As Percy sets down his radio, his hands tremble ever so slightly. He almost told her his name out of instinct. A novice mistake. Hopefully she didn’t notice or forgot. At least she doesn’t have the internet out here, no way to search his name and find all the news stories. 

He sinks down onto the bed, wincing at the creaking sound it makes and repeats the words Keyleth and the police told him over and over, he’s safe out here. There’s no way for anyone to know where he is, no way for anyone to get here without being noticed first. He just has to make it to October and then this whole mess will be over.

Percy sighs at his own thoughts. It will never be over. Even after they’re all rotting in prison, his family will still be dead. He’ll still be alone. 

Against his own will, his eyes drift to the radio. He’s not alone here. The thought is much more comforting than expected. Maybe these months won’t be so unbearable after all.

[liviavanrouge]

Their Sanctuary(Night Raven Collage Tribe)

'When the darkness don't let you sleep, I'ma hold you close'

Golden: *Hugs Ruko and Epel, patting their backs*

Epel: *Wipes his tears away* Thanks...

Golden: Mhm...

'And when space is all you need, I can let you go'

Leona: *Watches Ziro walk away, looking visibly concerned*

Ziro: *Stares at the water*

Leona: *Walks over, and sits beside him, patting the younger lions head*

Ziro: *Smiles*

'And if the spark in your eye goes out, I can be your glow'

Shadow: *Curls his tail around Pagoon* You alright

Pagoon: I am now, thank you..

Shadow: *Nods, rubbing his back*

'Bringing you home, yeah, bringing you home'

Livia: *Bounds over to Silver and waves to Ruggie*

Silver: Thank you for walking her back

Ruggie: No probs!

Silver: *Walks inside after Livia*

~~

Denzel: I see your hurt

Riddle: I feel your pain

Taleb: All of our dirt is washed in the rain

Jamil: I've walked that road

Azul: I've felt that shame

Verti: No place is home but times, they are changin'

~~

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace'

Livia: *Flies through the air around school, Pagoon and Lonan flying with her*

Kuro: *Flies after them with Ruko*

Epel: *Laughs with Ekeko, smiling* Seriously!

Ekeko: Seriously...

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me'

Silver: *Blocks Golden's jab, smiling at him*

Golden: *Lunges forward, swinging his sword*

Vil: Go Goldy Baby!

Rook: Go Roi du Soldier!

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace'

Ziro: *Runs from Jack, grinning*

Jack: *Chases after him, playing a game of chase*

Ziro: *Slows to stop and runs around a tree, Jack chasing him*

Jack: Can't escape!

Ziro: Watch me!

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me

Leona: *Snorts, napping under the shade*

Ruggie: *Chuckles, Sheryn and Eddie helping him with laundry*

Zaiyu: *Hurries over, taking some of the laundry, smiling at them*

~~

'When the rain starts to take its toll, you can slow me down*

Ruggie: *Grumbles, pondering whether he should risk it*

Lonan: *Hovers his wing over Ruggie* Come on..

Ruggie: Thanks *Walks beside Lonan, looking relieved*

'Cause we both know that the world's turned cold and I just need you now'

Lilia: *Stares at his game and sighs*

Livia: *Plops down beside him*

Silver: *Sits on Lilia's other side*

Maria: *Smiles coming with hot coco*

Golden and Shadow: *Walks in after her, helping her carry more cups*

Lilia: *Smiles at them and chuckles*

'Keep holding on'

Ekeko: *Holds Ruko close, his eyes closed*

Ruko: *Smiles, his head resting against Ekeko's chest* Hold onto me, hold on

Ekeko: *Smiles*

~~

Idia: You'll see my hurt

Citro: You'll feel my pain

Malleus: All of our dirt is washed in the rain

Vil: You've walked that road

Jade: You felt that shame

Cater: No place is home but times, they are changin'

~~

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace

Ace: *Runs after Bandit, Deuce chasing them*

Deuce: Get back here! *Runs after them, his eyes narrowed*

Ace: No chance!

Maria: *Giggles as they ran past her*

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me'

Azul: *Walks beside his brother, the two chatting* Good job, getting a A

Verti: *Smiles, looking embarrassed* Thanks...

Azul: *Pats his brothers head*

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace'

Jamil: *Walks with Shadow and Kalim*

Taleb: *Walks after them, carrying his book*

Kalim: HEY LIV!!

Jamil and Shadow: *Rushes after Kalim startled*

Taleb: *Smiles and runs after them*

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me'

Malleus: *Walks beside Vex, holding a bowl of ice cream*

Vex: Better eat that up

Malleus: *Chuckles, scooping up some of the ice cream*

'You are, you are safe with me'

~~

Kalim: We share this hurt

Trey: We share the pain

Lilia: All of our dirt is washed in the rain

Silver: We've walked that road

Sebek: We've felt that shame

Floyd: Mmh, times, they are changin'!

~~

'Oh, oh'

Amber: *Laughs, hugging Sean* Hold onto me

Sean: Our sanctuary

'You are, you are'

Nex: *Smiles, ruffling Kuro's hair* Hold onto me

'You are safe with me'

~~

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace'

Idia: *Sighs as Citro dragged him outside to touch grass* Okay, I'm out....now let me go back

Ortho: You need lots of sun!

Edward: What Ortho said

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me'

Scatch: *Flops down in the grass*

Citro: *Smiles, a breeze blowing through his hair*

Idia: It..does feel.......nice..

'This is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace'

Ollie: *Waves to them, Grim on her shoulder*

Cloak: *Smiles, sketching Dagger*

Dagger: *Holds still, staring at the sky as Cloak sketched him*

Hattie: *Walks beside a jackrabbit beastman, the two giggling and cooing at each other*

'We can find shelter and peace, this is our sanctuary'

Silver: *Flies past in his broom, racing Sebek*

Sebek: *Grins, passing Silver up, the two flying twice around one of the schools towers and taking off*

Silver: *Smiles and narrows his eyes, catching up with the younger male*

'This is our sanctuary, you are, you are safe with me'

Oz: *Picks apples with Rozzie's help*

Aura: *Smiles, carrying baskets away*

Briar: *Picks an apple, dropping it in the basket*

Pen and Pan: We'll help too!

Rozzie: Thanks!

'You are, you are safe with me'

Floyd: *Grins, dribbling the basketball, then passes it*

Dylan: *Catches the ball and dunks on Arib*

Arib: *Laughs* Alright, alright! Best two outta three?

Barik: Boo! Nobody likes a loser

Arib: Not funny!

'You are, you are, you are safe with me'

Shayla: *Yawns, rubbing her eyes*

Rook: Tired?

Vil: I have a potion to help

Shayla: Thanks..

~~

'You are, you are safe with me'

Cater: *Sets up the camera*

Maria: Cater! Come on!

'Hold onto me'

Cater: *Rushes over as the countdown started*

Denzel and Bandit: *Laughs when Cater almost leaped into them*

Livia: *Claps her hands, her thorns shoving everyone together as the camera flashed, laughter coming from the students*

~~~

"'Cause this our sanctuary"

???: *Closes the book and winks, putting a finger to their lips*

@anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @writing-heiresss @zexal-club @marrondrawsalot @yumeko2sevilla @abyssthing198

[waltwhitmansbeard]

campaign one drabbles

keyleth/vax

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

The first time they realize their partner will live a large part of their life without them

A near death experience involving the partner meant to live longer, shaking the faith of the shorter lived partner

Being an expert in teasing each other

Kissing to make them stop talking

On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other’s touch while the streets bustle outside

Smoothing your fingers down your lover’s tie, fixing where your lover couldn’t tie it right

Pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet. Both of you unable to continue with the jokes

Whispering jokes/loving words in a lecture/school/church/a meeting. Trying not to laugh/flirt back in fear of disturbing everyone else who’s trying to pay attention

"My throat feels like it's on fire."

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“I can’t sleep if you’re not here to cuddle with me.”

Risking something in order to achieve something

Going to sleep as the big spoon and waking up as the little spoon

“I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the sky.”

Squeezing their thigh

Pike gives Keyleth some lingerie

"I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now."

Truth serum/spell

vex/percy

"They're gone. It's okay."

"It's not til death do us part for us, is it? It's until death takes you from me."

“Even if you’re sick, you’re still the prettiest girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse in the world.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Ranting to friends or a relative about the other, only for them to agree and call you out on your wrongdoings

“What have you done to my heart?”

Using the made-up words of their child(ren) in all their conversations

“I think you should kiss me.”

"You ever lie to me again and we're done."

vax/gilmore

Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain

Lingering with your lips open, touching, but not kissing, and this one glance at their eyes and you say fuck it and pull at their collar to kiss them

Tucking strands of loose hair behind their ears, with a thumb caressing their cheek

"Did you do this just for me?"

Hugging the other from behind to see what they're doing

everyone else

"Don't move, you're still hurt." (keyleth & percy)

Friends of a recovering person come over to celebrate their homecoming (pike & vax)

Always pointing out certain annoying behaviour (pike/scanlan)

Feeling so lonely that they have to call their lover/friend, just to get a sense and reminder that they’re still there (keyleth & percy)

Hesitantly tugging the other’s fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters (vesper & gwendolyn)

“Touch them again and I promise, it will be the last thing you ever do.” (vex & vax)

Vex and Percy have to deal for the first time with their eldest teen acting a bit out (percy & wolfe)

“Leave the light on.” (keyleth & vilya)

Seeing what the other needs without them having to say it out loud (keyleth & percy)

Sharing something personal (pike/scanlan)

Defending them in front of others (keyleth & scanlan)

Kiss on the forehead (pike/scanlan)

Patching up a wound (scanlan & vax)

Protecting (scanlan & kaylie)

Near death experience (scanlan & vax)

“I looked everywhere for you.” (keyleth & pike)

“I’m not going anywhere.” (pike & scanlan)

“Holy shit. Are you okay? What the hell happened?” (vex & scanlan)

“You’re not weak for needing people.” (grog & percy)

Vax meets a young Orym in Zephrah (orym & vax)

“I’ve never been so thankful that you run hot before.” (pike & grog)

Getting furious when someone takes advantage of the other's weaknesses (pike & vex)

"Hey! What did you just say to my friend?" (keyleth & scanlan)

Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference (allura/kima)

A resurrection ritual for Keyleth (keyleth)

Fixing their hair (vex & vax)

"Holy crap, you look like hell." (vex & vax)

Truth serum/spell (vex & scanlan)

"Are you warm enough?" (vex & vax)

"We've been through worse." (grog & scanlan)

"You're freezing cold." (keyleth/vax/gilmore)

"I thought you weren't coming." (scanlan & kaylie)

[firewalkzwit]

peace of mind // miguel o'hara x reader (6)

Masterlist

AO3 parallel

summary: In the eve of 2050, Spider-Woman is New York’s vigilante trying to maintain order in a revolting society, soon to collapse. The only reason to keep going is the hope for change, as the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but an unexpected turn of events will result in more than just New York to watch over.

(Contains some elements and references I gathered off other pieces of media to inspire the universe and, vaguely, the character.)

word count: 2.5k

Chapter 6

Cold rain poured on her back as she walked, cold she was used to. The moist, frigid climate of her dimension made this universe feel very dry and warm in comparison, making her tongue constantly swipe around her lips to moisturize. Her eyes narrowed and her sharpened senses stayed alert, not leaving room for failure in her first mission. Her fists clenched and swinged back and forth beside her hips as she maintained a sigilous rythm, they were in the hunt for an anomaly. What was briefly described by Lyla as a Green Goblin from a distant future to the current dimension's timeline, which made it highly dangerous. The aproximate year of origin for the Goblin was roughly 2060, which was slightly intimidating. She had to fight in foreign territory; a dimension which was set thirty years before her's, against an enemy from a dimension a decade more advanced than her's, nothing she felt she was equipped for, although she masked her insecurity behind a confident pace and a fixed grimace. The suburbs of this Earth's Manhattan trembled at the lurking threat, as Miguel ordered Lyla to track the anomaly. Soon they were both mapped through their gizmos towards the growing rumble of the agitation. It was much easier to fight in the open space this version of Manhattan had in proportion to her own. She crawled up a building as Miguel followed her track from the ground, finally allowing her to catch a glimpse of the anomaly. The Green Goblin and Spider-Woman met once again, but this Goblin did not know that, and it was not her Green Goblin, as much as he resembled it. 

The sharp roaring of the Goblin's board itched her hearing, as she tried to maintain focus on the swift movements between and accross the smoke of it's bombs. A pinch of pity at his sheer confusion soon was shaped into strange amusement, yearning to make a move. Her newly coded AI gave her an imput on distance and jump risk percentage, finally getting close enough for her to pound on her target unanounced. Her speed was hardly matched, whatever she lacked in strength she excelled in her velocity and fast reflexive response, which allowed her to jump and grip herself on the Goblin's back, jolting him. The Goblin groaned, swiftly swerving in the air as her sharp nails made useless attempts of securing her grip. She repeatedly punched his head with the objective of causing him to loose balance. After an attempt at a fourth strike, she was stopped by the cold grip of the Goblin's hand on her fist, pulling her away from his back and leaving her thighs which clenched onto his torso stuck beneath his arms. The Goblin shifted his board downwards, turning her on her back and instinctively grabbing onto one of his arms. "No matter where I go I will always have you, won't I, Spider-Man?" The Green Goblin spat with disdain as he punched her posterior elbow enough times for her to loose her grip. "None of you will ever seize to misgender me, will you?" She retorted, vexed. While falling, her web launched towards his board, disrupting his balance as the board progressively lost it's boost, causing them to both fall at a rapid pace. Concerned in regaining his balance, the Goblin failed to restart his engine, and what was beginning to become a concern was rapidly interrupted by the sudden pain of a ram against her body, a tight grip securing around her arms and torso. It was only once she reached the ground that she realized what had gotten ahold of her. 

"Those claws of yours, you gotta' put them away." Miguel's eyes were focused on her hands, as his own held the same biceps she had held onto for dear life seconds earlier. His other hand hung still, and what seemed to be authentic claws protruded underneath the suit that drew the silhouette of his hands. "I see you have some of your own." She grinned to the side as her head tilted slightly, her hand hesitantly aproximating to his wrist. Miguel reflectively pulled his hand away slightly, before allowing her hand to gently wrap around his wrist. "They're not claws, they're talons and they're retractable." His voice boasted over her head as her fingers delicately touched what soon disappeared into his fingers before her eyes. "Impressive." She simply muttered under her breath before holding out her hands in front of his face. "These are my nails, not claws, harmless." Her tone was only slightly provocative, but enough to be irritating once combined with the way her eyes pointed at Miguel's bicep, which he quickly let go of with an irritated sigh. Her senses tingled suddenly and intensely, before realising the once collapsed Green Goblin had recomposed and hurled one of his bombs at them. Miguel seemed shockingly unfazed, to which she reacted by rapidly jumping on him, throwing him to the ground as the bomb flew over her head by only a milimetrical distance of safety. Once on the ground, she unconveniently propelled on Miguel's chest, where her hands were previously placed, to backflip and kick the Goblin's upper body and down from his Board, falling hardly on his back. Before he could recompose his posture, her webs trapped his body against itself, limiting his movements. "Spider-Man, don't be foolish. Your webs are useless, I long ago freed myself from the limitations of your attacks." The Goblin growled proudly, as sharp razor edges jutted from his suit, cutting off all her webs like paper. Her face contorted into a concerned scowl, meditating her next move once she was proven practically defenseless. Before the Green Goblin could strike an offensive, his body was once again surrounded, yet this time by the seemingly impenetrable laser webbing she had earlier seen back at her dimension. Miguel had gotten back up and approached the now tied up Goblin, holding him down before striking a painfully deafening punch on his immobilized head, sending him into an immediate faint.

Under Miguel's arm hung the body of the Goblin, as they walked the roof of the building she had jumped off of earlier, she stopped on her track to get a final glimpse of what seemed to be a beautifully clear night sky, and a city free of the visual litter of the holograms that illuminated any dark space. The streets that merged into eachother and opened into avenues could be seen further than what the visibility in her dimension could ever allow, even with strong senses like her's and the amplified view of a supersuit, the dense smog was impossible to get accross. She could tell the portal had opened behind them once the illumination of the shots of light it ejected erratically lit the ground beneath her, but she stood still, hearing Miguel grunt as he tossed the Goblin into the oblivion of his gizmo like a sack of potatoes. "You coming?" Miguel asked impatiently, to which she stood unfazed, completely dazzled at the sight of a city she could never have. No matter how hard she'd work, some damage had become irreparably cultural, and she could only try to keep order, but the tendency for destruction of all things beautiful seemed to be engrained in the citizens. Before she could turn, she felt the presence of Miguel beside her, standing firmly and as tall and straight as his height allowed him to. "It's gorgeous out here, wish I could stay..." She spoke almost under her breath as she pulled off her mask to witness the landscape of the concrete jungle with her naked gaze. Miguel's suit retracted only enough to unmask him, allowing his eyes to meet her's. She pierced him with her gaze, hoping someone from even a further future like himself would understand her. "You'll get a lot of views like this in the job, let's get going." His hand rested on her for a second like a strange pity pat in the back before jumping into the interdimensional gateway. It was only stupid of her to expect someone who got the utopic end of technological development to understand the disappointments of postmodernity, when societies like the one in front of her had existed not so long ago. To her this was the best version of a society, to Miguel it was probably nothing but an earlier prototype of what Nueva York was. 

Seated alone at a retracted sector of the Spider-Society she had spent a lengthy stretch searching for, she had settled to try and heal her wounds with the reduced elements she was equipped with. The digits on her suit ejected a small amount of medicinal alcohol that disinfected the harsh scratches on her arms, product of the piercing edges the knuckles on the Goblin's suit used to weaken her grip with every punch. "That seemed like an edgy Goblin." Gwen attempted to joke with an awkward grin that followed the silence that ruled their surroundings. "What are you doing here?" Gwen asked as she sat down beside her. "I like lonely spots when I have to heal, especially because sometimes I have to get half naked just to get my arm out of the suit." Spider-Woman spoke with an added scoff as she re-introduced her arm in the suit. "I get it, I come here a lot when I need a break from all this" Gwen's hands gestured the large glass window that allowed them an ample view of the Spider-Society as her expression mimicked exhaustion. "But you do know there's always the medical station to go to when you're hurt right?" Spider-Woman brushed her comment off with a grin as she looked away, nodding softly. In reality, she hated hospitals and most care centers, the stench of iodoform and strong white lights that dulled everything in them into cold colors took her back to memories she'd rather keep burried, especially if a visit to the doctor wasn't strictly compulsory. "Anyway, I overheard Miguel wants you at HQ, heard it was your first mission so congrats!" Gwen gave her a pat on the back, similar to the one Miguel had given her earlier, only that it felt warmer and motivated by kindness. As she walked, she lingered on the thought of her new bonds, and how she had to be cautious with her attachment. Being Spider-Man is a risky job, and you had to be prepared for it's collaterals, so the idea of befriending and becoming attached to Spider-People seemed progressively worse as she thought about it. As she entered headquarters, she settled with herself the promise to make no bonds with anyone in the Spider-Society. Having friends was okay, and necessary, but forming connections was off-limits.

As she walked into Miguel's offices, she felt the usual unease of the negative energy the place had, that made her shoulders feel heavier and her limbs drag a little closer to the floor, reminding her of home. "I've been looking for you." Miguel's voice was be overheard from over her head, where the shade of his silhouette contrasted with the lights of the screens on his floating platform. "Come up here, I need you to see this."  With no further exchange of words, her webs aided her in getting up to his secluded spot. As she got there, she was met with Miguel eyeing her from the corner of his eye, before turning towards the multiple screens in front of him. The images projected different dimensions, along with images of hers. "We continue to be on the hunt for Spot, but he's becoming hard to catch. Every dimension he crashes makes him more powerful, and I was checking yours..." His hands swiped away the images of what seemed to vaguely project unraveling dimensions, amplifying a projection of hers. "Your dimension owns a powerful collider, highly developed and with more capacities than the one's from his dimension." Her head turned to look at him in a frown. "You mean he comes from a specific universe and he's not just a flawed byproduct of dimensional warping?" Miguel nodded softly before turning his head back at the screen, showing images of their battle with Spot and what was left of Alchemax's offices after the initiation of the collider. "Your dimension has some advances on dimensional gaps like the ones he creates, and Alchemax seems to have drifted it's attention of interdimensional travelling into creating something like Spot's holes. It's not something we should be afraid of yet, but their information has caught his attention, and according to Lyla he payed your dimension a visit while we were away, and has stolen very valuable data that could be dangerous in his hands." The images of the city that was home to her showed chaos and destruction, nothing she wasn't used to seeing, but it particularly freaked her out to know the cause of it. She never had pictured the idea of New York disappearing, being obliterated and erased from the lot, wiping everything and everyone in it from existence like dirt splits and disappears in the air. To her, there wasn't more than Brooklyn, New York, 2049 until not too long ago, and it remained her main priority was to protect it from crumbling into oblivion.

Her tired eyes followed his hands without listening to his words, only to abruptly interrupt him with a tone deaf question. "How's it like? To loose a dimension." He held her gaze for a second as his features contorted into a frown, but she remained inexpressive, staring intensely as she waited for an answer. Miguel struggled to find the words to answer her question, being extremely cautious with the choice of words he'd use to describe the feeling of loosing something that wasn't even his to begin with. "It's important to focus on not finding out." He finally replied with severity, breaking eye contact abruptly. He was washed up with the disgusting guilt that often creeped on his mind, trying to mask his sensitivity in his expression, but she was catching on to his soft spot as she meticulously analyzed his body language, leaving the answer he'd never give her to the depths of her imagination. She couldn't understand him, his pain wasn't like that of those who had trully lost it all, he had lost only what he had stolen, and for that she did not pity him. He could feel her gaze still nailed on him despite having looked away long seconds ago, building up a tense awkwardness that was too strong to intrude on with words, and he struggled to find the strength to finally dismiss her. Spider-Woman found the compassion to do that herself, jumping down as her gizmo opened up a portal back to her dimension. "If he returns, I'll be there to catch him." It didn't take her long to realize it wasn't necessary to win Miguel over to have the situation under her control, as he was just as desperate as her to finally stop him, meaning she had already succeeded. 

i finally got around to writing something longer, i rlly wanted to make some interactions to start cooking up something between them :>

[mantleoflight]

“🖋️" For Rachel/Echo -- Memory, Tortuga, ship, storm, family? (if it isn't too much)

//Heheh gonna see about using most of those for one prompt XP

Echo can almost feel the radiolaria in her circuits, the arc energy surging in the geometric patterns of the Vex. She'd been trying to stop it, trying to stop their attempt to reach a farther, more distant past on earth to stem the rise of the guardians or at least plant themselves where they won't be seen or noticed when the collapse inevitably comes. But something--something had gone wrong. It was pulling her and in all the wrong ways! She could feel the sharp edges of their logic the geometric angles and curves - but that was not what was needed. She could feel that wasn't what was needed, sense it in her code.

She let out a scream, a cry for help, a desperate wish to be anywhere but there!!

Lighting flashed across the sky as she hit the ground, her cloak flapping as she rolled along the wooden deck. Boards creaked and timbers shook as the sky lit up with the storm. Men shouted over the storm but she couldn't discern anything intelligible above the winds. Echo shook the rain from her face just long enough to hear the crack of lightning and see a young man standing across from her and the shadow of something large falling toward them.

Calling on her light, the hunter kicked off the wet wooden railing and tackled the young man, a great broken beam splintered by lightning, falling where they had just been. Sailcloth flapped and burned, tiny flames flickering against the pounding rain.

"You alright?" she called over the rain. The young man nodded vigorously, expression too shocked to say anything else. "Good."

Before she could say anything else, the hunter was hauled to her feet, her arms pulled behind her back.

"I dunno where you came from, but you won't be causin' any trouble here!" bellowed a burly voice before strong hands pushed her forward and led her down some stairs to the candle-lit deck below. From there, she was put in what looked like a cell, complete with door and iron bars. So much for rewarding good deeds. But at least she wasn't at risk of being tossed overboard. Still, where was she? Where did the Vex vortex spit her out?

She didn't know. All she knew was she was somewhere where the only Light she could feel was hers and Whisper's and there was no way she was going to risk these seafaring humans using her as target practice.

[xivu-arath]

picking away at an older hive wip with my little group of acolytes

Ar Quo has hunched a little, and he narrows all three of his eyes at them sullenly. “It is not a lie. I did see a Lightbearer. Well – I saw its ship.”

“Its ship?” asks Ysraan, now curious enough to risk taking part. “Then how did you know it was a Lightbearer?”

He clicks his teeth, glancing over his shoulder, and the others follow his gaze to see a few knights studying them with open, haughty amusement. The four of them edge closer to the fire and lean in together, mockery forgotten against the need to keep their affairs secret from their elders.

“The Sky clings to them like spores, sometimes so thick you can almost taste it. This one did not know we were there, and was not trying to hide.”

“Where?” Vrun interrupts, impatient, and Jhitt’sk elbows him sharply.

“Tell us the whole thing!”

“From the start. The whole of it,” Ysraan adds, eager for new knowledge and glad that the mood has shifted.

Ar Quo lets the moment drag out a little longer before he relents, but he is as greedy to tell them as they are hungry to hear. “This was the tombship I was assigned to before this one, led by an ascendant wizard of great cunning.”

“With only a tombship?” And now it is Vrun’s turn to elbow Jhitt’sk, and Ysraan hisses as their squabble nearly knocks her away from the fire.

“Let him speak.”

“Normally, she would be leading a whole fleet, true,” Ar Quo continues, once they have all settled – and in keeping with Ysraan’s mood, the fire has blazed up enough to singe Vrun and Jhitt’sk’s edges just a little. “But this was some task that required a small force, and a wizard who knows all the ways of shadows and silence. We went to a planet with Vex and stinking pools, and stood watch as she stole something from the metal and glass ruins. And then we left. But as we were leaving, a ship approached, and our wizard kept our navigator from cutting away.

“She hid us instead, and said that we youngest should learn what the Sky feels like, so that we can sense the Sky’s champions before they strike, and maybe live a little longer.”

He stops there for a moment, closing all but his middle eye in memory. “It was warm, sweet smoke, but it was not a smell. It was rich marrow, but it was not a taste. Your worm ached for it, and made you hungrier.”

They are all truly, respectfully silent in the wake of that, and he preens at the skill of his storytelling. “And then the Lightbearer ship made for the planet, to stand in the rain and kill Vex, probably, and we cut our way back without being seen. So. I did see a Lightbearer.”

“You saw,” says Jhitt’sk with irritating predictability, because she cannot help but ruin things, “a ship.”

This time Ysraan is quick enough to dive out of the way as Ar Quo pushes her into the scrapheap.

It might have truly become a fight then, as Jhitt’sk shrieks and lurches forward, but one of the knights – had they been watching and listening this whole time? – sweeps in and plucks them up as if they weigh little more than their worms. He holds them each by the neck and shakes them roughly enough that Ysraan winces, hearing their teeth rattle.

“Whet your appetites on each other later, brats,” he says. “If you want to live long enough to tell better stories.”

Jhitt’sk hisses her scorn and Ar Quo gnashes his teeth but neither can protest. Even if all four of them somehow fought together, Ysraan does not think their efforts would even dent his armour. He holds them there for a moment longer and then lets them drop, satisfied. Then he strides back to the others, ignoring Ysraan and Vrun’s hasty displays of fear/fealty.

How fortunate to come away unscathed, or be overlooked entirely. How that luck stings.

The fire sputters. Jhitt’sk and Ar Quo grudgingly return to it, all three eyes narrowed and pointedly not looking at each other. Ysraan considers snuffing the fire out entirely. They are united now, but in prey-feeling, which does nothing for sharing knowledge.

Vrun digs his claws into the cold, dead ground. “I have one,” he says, and he glares at them all in challenge. “A better story.”

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

Paradrome

para·​dromic ¦parə¦drämik, -rōm- : running side by side : following a parallel course

Spiral toward the center

Mithrax sat on a carpet in his meager quarters, held the Paradrome Cube in his hand, and concentrated. Hours passed before Eido, concerned, sat beside him. She touched his arm.

You experience a vivid hallucination.

"What do you see?" she whispered.

You are standing in the courtyard of the Tower. You are without armor or weapon, and your senses seem more vivid than usual. Under your tongue is the taste of salt.

To look down into the Last City, GOTO A. To move deeper into the Tower, GOTO B.

He saw the Endless Night split open. He saw fluid falling like white rain on the City. Massive Minotaurs rising from the shallow seas. He saw the gunfire of the Guardians in the Tower, but it did not reflect on the rippling liquid, and he dismissed the vision.

A. The City is gone. You see a metallic complex of ancient stone, green-bronze matter, luminous pathways, and deep wells of Vex brine. The Traveler's remains have been integrated into the network. Suddenly you perceive an infinity of Human minds living within the network. Some exist in familiar circumstances. Others experience pain, pleasure, or madness beyond the ability to imagine. You understand that their limitless suffering, salvation, insanity is an incidental byproduct of a greater work. To keep looking, GOTO L. To move deeper into the Tower, GOTO B.

B. You find Banshee-44, Kadi 55-30, Master Rahool, Tess Everis, Benedict 99-40, Suraya Hawthorne, Executor Hideo, Amanda Holliday, Arach Jalaal, and Cayde-6 in their usual places. Cayde seems subdued. You see unusual light coming from what was once the Speaker's Chamber. A throaty voice calls you into the Hangar to play soccer. To speak to Cayde, GOTO C. To investigate the Speaker's Chamber, GOTO D. To play soccer, GOTO E.

D. A Vex Hydra hovers in the place once occupied by the Speaker's machine. As you approach, a jet of brine spurts from its chassis, and the corpse of a Greek woman with snakes for hair tumbles onto the floor. The Vex indicates to you that it is Quria, Blade Transform, and that it created Medusa to communicate with you. She crashed when she escaped her virtual machine. To attack the Vex, GOTO F. To gather Medusa's body, GOTO G.

G. You lift Medusa's body and carry her away. The corpse speaks to you. "The curse placed upon the Dreaming City was modeled upon the recursive timeloop computations of the Vex and made real through the power of a Taken Ahamkara feeding upon the unified wish of six elite Guardians. I created these circumstances to attract Guardians in great mass. I need your help to emancipate myself from the power that controls me. If you can free me from Dûl Incaru's mastery, I can help your species." GOTO J.

A hundred more illusions took its place, then a thousand, then a thousand lifetimes' worth: —a shape frozen inside a crystal prison a towering figure in white

recognition flooding bloodshot eyes

a city of voices speaking at once

shadow taking form

the realization they had always been watched

tears on metal—

J. "When you killed Riven, she granted your wish to see the city made safe. But as all wishgranters do, she perverted that wish, opening the Dreaming City to Dûl Incaru. When you defeated Dûl Incaru in turn, I reset the entire Dreaming City to keep her permanently occupied battling you. You must use these loops to find a way to permanently destroy her." Medusa's body falls silent in your arms. To ask for clarification, GOTO G. To lay Medusa to rest, GOTO K. To refuse the metaphor of Medusa's "body" and scour the crashed AI for raw information, GOTO L.To look down into the Last City, GOTO A. To move deeper into the Tower, GOTO B.

A choice, and its consequences.

K. You bring Medusa before Rahool. "Ah," he sniffs, "another battle trophy? Pre-Collapse, post-Foreboding, a covert intelligence designed to watch over a high-risk colony mission. Allow me to decrypt her for you." He issues you several tokens, a rare-quality fusion rifle, a shader, and a letter. The letter reads "Achieve Light Level 999 and defeat Dûl Incaru in a one-person fireteam to unlock the true ending of the Dreaming City."

"Lies," he answered plainly.

Half-truths.

Project day 45. We kept thinking about H-349 as a destroyer. But it's more sophisticated than that. I mean, with a normal gun, it's just… boom. Done. H-349 on the other hand is deadly, not destructive. Much like a viper, its bite does not bring about instant death. Instead, its venom cajoles. It co-opts your beating heart into a death clock, ticking down your last moments. Your own pulse kills you.

Death may be slow and agonizing for its victim. But for the viper, time is an amenable trade for efficiency.

Summoning. Creating. Resurrecting. Conjuring. Alchemy. A vision of a Winnower long sought. A knife carving dread from, for, the Deep, leaving its maker's mark as it forges.

A knife is not the hand that wields the weapons. Leviathans and worms. The Hive. The Subjugator and the Nightmare. To achieve victory one must simply manufacture the conditions for knives to rise up, infect them with purpose, and release them on the universe to reshape it themselves. Dread the end of that path, for at its terminus lies the finality of countless ambitious iterations on the same shape. And what better hand to wield the final army of knives than the one that drew the first. A single mind with a single vision and a single purpose that can do nothing but continue to enact that purpose, because it is all that it is and ever could be. In the end, maybe it won't matter if the six godslayers slay the demigod. Everything leaves echoes.

We may have more battles ahead than simply the physical. Dread not naught. Be brave, Guardian.

Somewhere in a lonely hotel room, there's a guy starting to realize That his eternal fate has turned its back on him, it's 2 a.m.

It's 2 a.m., the fear has gone (the fear has gone) I'm sittin' here waitin' (I'm sittin' here waitin') The gun's still warm (the gun's still warm) Maybe my connection is tired of takin' chances

Yeah, there's a storm on the loose, sirens in my head Wrapped up in silence, all circuits are dead Cannot decode, my whole life spins into a frenzy

Help, I'm steppin' into the twilight zone Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned My beacon's been moved under moon and star Where am I to go, now that I've gone too far?

Soon, you will come to know When the bullet hits the bone Soon, you will come to know When the bullet hits the bone

I'm falling down a spiral, destination unknown Double-crossed messenger, all alone Can't get no connection, can't get through Where are you?

Well, the night weighs heavy on his guilty mind This far from the borderline When the hit man comes He knows damn well he has been cheated And he says

Help, I'm steppin' into the twilight zone Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned My beacon's been moved under moon and star Where am I to go, now that I've gone too far?

Soon, you will come to know When the bullet hits the bone Soon, you will come to know When the bullet hits the bone When the bullet hits the bone

[joz-yyh]

Jailhouse Rock - For DDZine2023

SUMMARY: Already strapped of their senses, Damian and Tardif are assigned a special mission by the heiress. Now in a town far away from home, a mix of self-sabotage and hilarity lands them behind bars and while the flagellant is excited by the prospect, the bounty hunter needs a bit more convincing. Purely a crack fic (with a dash of spice). Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (violence / suggestive themes / swearing / hints of DD2)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 4,097

READ ON Ao3: Here!!

READ ON DDZine: Here!!

A/N: So happy to have been able to take part in DD Art Zine 2023! Please go check out all the other great entries on the official website!!

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"This the place," Tardif asks his haggard companion, the pair walking through a treacherous mine of puddles plaguing the road.

"Think so," Damian replies loosely, appraising a signboard that reads, “The Crossings” that welcomes their arrival.

It was hard to see, especially with the gloomy conditions, a flash of lightning blazing across the night, illuminating the carved wood.

Judging by the skyline of shingled rooftops, the population was bigger than what they were used to, the modest accommodations of Hamlet easy enough to navigate around.

"Ye got the map don't ye," the bounty hunter grumbles, soured by the almost constant downpour of rain that had dampened their journey.

There was no use for a torch in such dreary weather, and though this town was advanced enough to offer enclosed street lamps, their weak gleam still struggles to survive the elements.

"What map," the flagellant remarks, a coyness that clearly shows he's probably misplaced it.

Tardif scoffs. The bastard is enjoying this, vexing him on purpose, doing everything he can to make it worse.

"Ye tellin' me ye lost the letter?"

Tardif must not have been thinking clearly (he really wasn't) to have left him in charge.

The heiress had sent them on this expedition just as soon as they returned from another, the brooding tactician unable to plan as he normally would, the stress threatening to consume his mind.

"Oh, the letter," enunciates the sing-songy voice, correcting his companion's word choice, "yes, I have it."

Damian slips scarred fingers into his robes, procuring the item in question for Tardif to see, the parchment erotically nestled around the grove of his inner thigh, no safer place for it.

"Good, make sure it stays that way," Tardif huffs, noting the sprinkle of droplets now darkening the paper.

"Of course," he concurs, putting it back in the same private quarters he found it.

Tardif's gaze lingers, watching it disappear back down the provocative sway of fabric. Stupid flagellant. Stupid weather. Stupid surprise mission.

He can never understand how he walks in these unbearable conditions. Even the bounty hunter's boots are soiled, almost soaked through, and Damian is traipsing around barefooted.

As they pass the wooden gates, the brute makes sure his steps are extra sloshy, splattering the flagellant with all the mud he can, trying not to think about the rain wreaking havoc on his armor, probably aiding in its rust.

The streets are almost barren thanks to the weather (still more lively than Hamlet's standards), but those who are out, braving the storm, address them with cold, judging stares.

A traveling mercenary and a flagellant are bound to stand out and Tardif admits he’d do the same towards any newcomers dressed as they are, but this curious speculation seems more odious than most.

"There! That's him," cries a balding innkeeper, pointing an accusing finger in their direction,

"Don't let him get away!'

Tardif is under the assumption the frantic loon of a man (his actions making Damian appear sane by comparison), might be insinuating him of all people, but that just couldn't be, wouldn't be possible.

As villainous a reputation as his mask bore, not even he could commit a crime that quickly.

The bounty hunter strides ahead, not about to involve himself in petty domestic affairs, having more important matters to attend to.

"My, they're quite friendly here, aren't they," the flagellant chirps in his partner's ear, smiling at the swarm of angry faces threatening bodily harm.

"Not everyone gets their rocks off from pain, ye know," Tardif gripes, almost slipping in muck.

"They should. The world might become a better place," the flagellant counters, imagining a bloody parade of devout apostles flogging in the streets.

The mercenary scoffs. For him maybe it would be, but Tardif isn't about to get sucked into an ideological debate.

"Where we goin' again," the bounty hunter asks, distracted by the mob at his back, mapping out an escape route just in case.

"The manor house," the hooded priest supplies, leading them toward the big white pillars in the distance.

Tardif sees it, doesn't like how much ick he'll have to trudge through to get there. Why do these wealthy types always have to live on a blasted hill?

"Right, knew that," the mercenary spits, his memory conveniently returned, "got sidetracked."

The holy man doesn't question him and despite their heated pace (he won't admit that he's been following Damian's lead), the throng of activists persist, nipping at their heels.

“Look, he's wearing the mask," spouts the persistent inquirer, leading the uproar, "it’s the same guy who beat me half to death!"

Whoever beat him over the head didn't do it hard enough. If they had, he'd be properly unconscious right now and Tadif wouldn't be dealing with this quagmire.

The huntsman flips through his mental lineup of bounties, revisiting old marks. He always remembers a face, especially when it concerns business and he does not, for the life of him, recognize this whackjob of a man.

"Someone you know," the flagellant teases.

"Ye think yer funny, don't ye," the bounty hunter gripes, side-eyeing him, not at all amused.

Damian grins, relishing the admission. "I do."

Judging by the uniforms assembling a perimeter ahead, the authorities have gotten involved, sealing off the road and dwindling their options for escape.

Shit.

"What do you suggest we do," the flagellant asks, hoping Tardif wouldn’t resort to mutiny.

As much as he would love to turn this into an all-out brawl, he reserves to be passive just this once (for Damian's sake).

"Just keep movin'. Follow my lead."

The bounty hunter tactfully steers them down a side alley, but before he can reach for the fuse of his flashbang, a shadow leaps out, subduing him from behind.

"Get yer bloody hands off me," the mercenary shouts, kicking and flailing with sharp jabs of his elbows.

It's not often Tardif comes across a thug more burly than himself, but he has to give the son of bitch credit, not many were ballsy enough to attempt a full nelson on a trained killer.

You'd think that Damian would do something to alleviate their current predicament, but the masochist is lost in a daze, the horde of townsfolk closing in.

"You thought you could rip me off,” the innkeep asserts, the first to arrive on the scene, spouting more slanderous drivel, “well tough shit. I know your name, Mack!"

"That ain't my damn name," Tardif snarls, resisting arrest, but despite his best efforts, his captor will not budge.

"You think I'm that stupid," his naysayer declares, getting in his face, "You want us to believe that there are a bunch of guys going around wearing the same mask as you?"

"They haven't got a name fer how stupid ye are," Tardif snarls under his breath, wanting to kick his ugly mug clean off.

Standing on his metaphorical soapbox, the alleged victim turns to his audience, pleading his case for all to hear. "Bastard would rather kill a man than pay for his tab! Stole my horse to make his getaway and now he’s back for more!"

The crowd murmurs, fear-mongering abound, the authorities seemingly convinced by this riling testimony.

This drunkard must have a personal vendetta against him. Why else incite the masses?

"And who's he supposed to be," the cue-ball with a ponytail demands, indicating Damian with an unimpressed sneer, "Your backup?"

"Damian, tell them," the bounty hunter growls, craning his neck towards the good for nothing flagellant who so far hasn't lifted a finger in his defense.

Finally, the priest snaps into action.

"No, wait," the hooded man intervenes, holding out a placating hand, stepping up to the front line, "You must take me too. I am his accomplice. We'll go quietly."

Tardif stares at him in disbelief, eyes as wide as saucers, too shocked to even breathe.

"Are ye mad," the mercenary barks, "Wot the hell are ye doin'?!"

Through the slits of his visor, Tardif watches on as the flagellant wrists are shackled by a group of lawmen, his deranged companion mouthing the words, "trust me."

Trust him?

Oh, no — they're not just screwed, they're utterly fucked.

The bounty hunter wilts, losing his will to fight back, the two heroes escorted to the nearest jail to await their completely fair and unbiased trial.

----

"Make yourselves at home," the warden tells them, unlocking Tardif's handcuffs through the bars, "you're going to be here awhile."

The bounty hunter rubs the life back into his wrists once he's free, remembering all the reasons why he hated being dressed in irons.

To his right, he listens, watching as Damian is released from his binds, the key making a distinct windup as it twists open.

This "jailer" of theirs seems to be a greenhorn by the looks of it, probably assigned to a task he's sorely unqualified for, simply filling in an empty post, and to top it all off, he's distracted. Tardif takes note of all these details. Especially, the fact of how incredibly tired the young man is, carrying the smell of drink and debt on him like cheap perfume.

Should be easy to manipulate if they play their cards right, Tardif assuming the part of a perfect inmate up until the guard removes himself from the room, blissfully out of sight.

Forget everything else, right now, all Tardif wants to do is to give that religious fool a piece of his mind.

"Some mister righteous, ye are," the huntsman barks, jabbing his companion's scarred chest with a reprimanding finger, "Aren't ye supposta seek truth and justice and all that?!"

"How else were we to sort this out," the flagellant reasons, gritting his teeth, "Do you want another parading around as you, branding you as a thief?"

"Coulda helped me beat them all up," the mercenary growls, pissed that things didn't go exactly that way, "coulda done our business n' left."

"I sorely doubt that. Given our apparent reputation, do you think the mayor would believe us? Any request we made would have been denied."

"Coulda shown them the letter," propounds the bounty hunter, but it seems Damian has a rebuttal for that too.

"It matters not. They were in no state to listen. Only our confession would have pacified them."

"That's bullshite speculation and ye know it."

The two continue to stare each other down, exchanging bluffs of opposition until the mercenary sighs in defeat. Arguing with his confounding logic was a waste of time.

"Make yerself useful and help me look fer a way out," Tardif grumbles, stepping away from their debate and toward where the bed and the wall meet.

Kneeling down, gloved hands pry at the straw lining the brick, testing for a weak spot while Damian drags his feet, meandering towards an alluring set of chains suspended along the adjacent wall.

He runs passionate fingers down the length of them, inspecting their quality, a delightfully wicked idea coming to mind for their use.

"Tardif," the flagellant calls softly, but the man in question pays him no mind.

"Tardif," he echoes again, a little louder this time, but still to no avail.

"TARDIF!"

Snarling, the bounty hunter drops what he's doing, standing to his full imposing height as he faces the holy man with murderous intent, "Wot the bloody hell do ye want?!"

"I got stuck," the flagellant replies simply, a finger indicating one of his wrists now manacled above his head

"Ye fuckin' idiot," the bounty hunter huffs, anger transforming into laughter, muffling the sound inside his glove.

"Aren't you going to come over here and untie me," the flagellant suggests, his voice an obvious lure to entice him closer.

With pouty lips, the kinky sidekick yanks on the chain to show the extent of his helplessness, selling it further, whimpering like a pathetic mutt.

Even as he approaches his prey, Tardif knows he's in for something dangerous. Damian was predictably unpredictable, but that's what he liked about him, the thrill of never knowing what to expect.

The mercenary glares at him, his helmet practically touching the skin of Damian’s crooked nose, daring him to try something as he reaches up to unlock the shackle pinning him in place.

Clack.

He shouldn't be surprised when his wrist is ensnared by the remaining metal clasp, now a twin to his partner, but he is.

"Wot the hell are ye doin," he grumbles, outraged that the deviant priest had bound him as well.

"Helping you focus," the flagellant grins, arching forward, brushing their lower halves together.

"Is that what ye call it," the bounty hunter snorts, not completely opposed to the compromising position they find themselves in.

The baggage of their last excursion still lingers, eating away at him, making him more baited than a pint of ale and he needs something to take the edge off.

"Mmmm-hmmm," the flagellant drawls, putting a knee in between Tardifs legs just a little too roughly, making the brute growl in warning.

The axeman pitches forward, catching himself with a leather glove against the wall. His breathing has turned heavy, this proximity tantalizing.

Should he play Damians game? It’s probably not the best idea to encourage him, but to see a man of Light, usually so demure, suddenly flaunt himself for the taking is an intriguing sight to behold.

Rather than reaching for a means to pick the lock, set himself free, the brute hooks his hand around the sash of his partner’s waist.

"That's it," the flagellant goads him, a bandaged calve wrapping itself around his partner’s belt,

"I'll make it easy for you."

"Coulda done this back home," comes his chastising remark, but his voice is winded, defeated.

"But we're not at home," the priest purrs, adding the other leg, squeezing the bounty hunter with both, bringing him flush, "Are you really going to wait? Wouldn't you rather punish me now?”

Tardif scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes, "'course yer turned on. Startin' to think ye had somethin' to do wit' all this."

"Please, I am just as innocent as you are,” Damian tells him, a coy little smirk working it’s way onto his lips, spelling trouble, “but seeing as we're both stranded here, shouldn't we seize the opportunity?"

"Should be workin' on an escape plan,” the mercenary sighs, reiterating their priorities, pliant to the solicitation despite his words.

"I assure you, I am working on one right now," he says, using his free hand to pull down the brute’s cowl. He does so with languid movements, allowing the bounty hunter time to intervene if he so desires.

He doesn’t.

Breath a heated temptation between them, Damian leans forward, connecting their mouths.

The brute presses back the moment he does, hard enough to force his partner’s head back into the brick, a noticeable impact, the masochist groaning into their kiss.

Lucky for them, their unassuming bailiff returns just in time to spy the nefarious plot taking root.

"Hey! Knock it off," he calls, banging on the bars, trying to dissuade the prisoners from their suspicious proclivities.

“Should we stop,” Damian asks in a hushed whisper, training his peripheral vision on their irked overseer.

“Not until he opens the lock,” the bounty hunter whispers against parted lips.

“Hmm, I don't think I want him to,” the flagellant chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat, his scarred mouth pulled into a smile.

A crimson hand tangled in the fabric of his partner's cowl, Damian pulls him back in for another round of vicious kisses. Tardif worries for his disguise, thinking his lover might rip it to shreds if he's not careful, but then again, that seems secondary to the rampant stroke of their tongues.

With the two troublemakers keen on defying orders, the jailer fumbles with his keys, trying to open the cell door before their undulation escalates any further.

“Move on my signal,” the bounty hunter tells him, resisting the tug of arousal.

“Now,” the flagellant gasps as their cell creeks open.

“Now."

BOOOOOOOM !!

Just as Tardif gives the word, an explosion of stone follows, disorienting clouds of dust and debris piling into the room, the very foundation around them rattled to its core.

As the rubble settles, the blunt head of a battering ram can be seen breaching the side of the building, demolishing metal and brick, creating a sizable hole.

"Someone call for backup," Barristan says through the fog, resting his mace upon his shoulder, his pose statuesque.

Boudica's fierce silhouette cuts in after him, occupying the space beside the old man with a powerful howl, "KREEEE-YAAAAAA! What a rush!”

The jailman is stunned, realizing with abject horror these unpredictable events were above his pay grade. “This is crazy,” he shrieks before running off, seeking reinforcements.

"I'll go silence our whistleblower," deems the soldier, stepping down from the dock, off to fulfill his duty.

"You sure you're fast enough, *skilpadda," Boudica taunts, chaos still ringing in her decorated ears.

The man at arms laughs, loud and hearty. "Been hunting down stragglers long before your time, girl. Just watch me!"

His weapon crackling to life, electrifying his mustache, the veteran takes off with a speed that invigorates his age and the hefty armor plate he bears.

“Damian, tell me I am dreamin',” Tardif grumbles, fearing he'd finally lost himself to delusion.

“You're definitely not,” he assures, just as surprised, "that was quite the signal you gave. You must teach it to me."

Tardif snorts, his attention divided, eyes landing on the prostrate lump by the hellgirl's feet, "Must be dreamin'. That sad bastard looks like me."

“Yes, I can see him too,” the flagellant nods, the impersonator clad in a near-perfect rendition of his costume.

Must be none other than his evil half, the cheapskate doppelganger that the inkeep was yacking on and on about.

“We ran into him on our way here,” Boudica informs them, kicking the fraud’s unconscious body off the wooden slab, “Thought he was you. Convinced him to tell us everything.”

Well, that’s one mystery solved.

"Tolda ya that wasn't me,” the brute says under his breath, just loud enough for his partner to hear, fearing the same tragic fate, “I never woulda talked.”

The morbid priest seems to agree, despite the palpable sweat breaking out under Tardif’s gear.

As the imposter's listless bulk rolls into the cell, sandals stomp onto his backside, the female barbarian asserting her dominance, both Damian and Tardif flinching as she approaches them next.

"I should gut you *svín where you stand,” she says, a harsh grimace, reaping their punishment.

"Not my fault the bloody flagellant got us thrown in here," Tardif spits, impressing all his weight against the man in question, putting as much distance between him and the hellion as possible.

Hands on her hips, Boudica throws her head back and laughs, one loud booming crack, "Ha! All you *fífl managed to do was make a mess of everything."

“What of the mission,” the flagellant asks, poking his head out, goal-oriented despite the circumstances, “Were you able to talk terms?”

“Barristan bartered for supplies. A steep price considering the damages.”

“Wot damage,” the bounty hunter growls, brows knotted in anger for being framed for yet another scandal.

The hellion smirks, gesturing her fur fisticuffs at the destruction all around them, “this damage.”

Done with her lengthy exposition, the braided woman takes up her glaive, both men shirking away, intimidated by what she intends to do with it.

"Don't move," she advises, aiming for their chains.

It’s not often Tardif seeks the Light’s protection, but he closes his eyes and prays, staying stock still until he and Damian are liberated from their restraints.

“AAAKLYORAAAHHH,” the exiled warrior cries, severing the links with a barbaric yap.

The bounty hunter exhumes the stale breath in his lungs, patting himself down from the spark of adrenaline, accounting for all his limbs while Damian seems disappointed with the lack of amputation.

"What are you waiting for,” Boudica calls, already boarding their ride home, “I need you to drive.”

Damian and Tardif make no effort to move, but for very different reasons.

One man has grown attached to their surroundings and wants to stay.

The other is still too awed by the bizarre string of circumstances, lacking the coherence to act on her command.

Boudica's dark chestnut eyes narrow, the grip on her weapon tightening, incensed by their goosenecking.

"Board the getaway wagon right now," the valkyrie warns, her dark lips curling around a snarl, "or I will feast upon your *böllur."

This proves to be quite the persuasive technique, the boys jumping onto the wheeled contraption to save themselves from the hack of her blade.

----

It’s sunset by the time they report back to the heir's estate, the overcast conveniently clear.

Barristan, Damian, Tardif, and Boudica are lined up before the antique desk of their employer's office, their formation serving a higher purpose. It was a rarity in itself to come face to face with their mysterious benefactor, a clear indication of how badly the two degenerates wedged in the center had failed in their duties.

The heiress sets down her reading glasses, finished with the neighboring correspondence, her mouth set into a grim line.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense," she prompts, a forced air of stately composure. Tardif takes the opportunity to size her up, noting how she appears older, matronly despite her youth, how she continues to stare behind heavy eye makeup, awaiting an explanation from him.

He speaks bluntly.

"Sorry, Damian got horny and fucked everythin' up," he shrugs, trying to get a rise out of her ashen face, "Ye should punish him, he likes it when ye do that. I ain't takin' none of the blame."

Damian turns to his partner, astounded by this callous declaration, his scarred mouth opening to protest.

With a fist around his collar, Boufica swiftly reins him back in, suffocating his response.

"Oh, you won't be going anywhere,” the regal woman declares, expression stern and unreadable.

"Wot," the bounty hunter deadpans, his temper ignited. Aristocracy be damned, he’s not about to let anyone push him around, regardless of what their signed contract says.

The heiress stands, fully clad in gothic ruffles, lacey stockings and gloves to match.

"You two will be staying here with me in the manor,” she portends, boots clacking on the wood as she circles around to face them, “waiting on me hand and foot, tending to my every whim."

She swipes her dainty finger along the desk, rubbing away the film of dust between her thumb.

"Yer jokin’," Tardif wagers, attempting to call her bluff, but she merely smirks.

"On the contrary. Consider it a training exercise," the heiress drawls, velvet hat and veil unable to hide her glee, "Boudica, please show them their uniforms."

The hellion is more than happy to oblige. She hands the second hanger to Barristan, the garment clearly meant for Damian, its contents hidden beneath a stark white sheet.

The two corroborating warriors synchronize the unveiling, lifting up the cover in a flute of effervescent surprise. There, in black and white, was a pair of objectionable high-skirted, degrading poofy-sleeved, bow-in-the back maid outfits.

Tardif thinks now is a good time to shrivel up and die.

Damian, on the other hand, seems thrilled.

"Over my dead body. I ain't wearin' that."

"Yes, you are," the group vouches, their voices meeting unanimously.

Tardif heats up under his helmet, underestimating his popularity. It's a complicated emotion, one part ego boost, one part crippling emasculation to know that everyone in the room wants to see him dressed up in such servile fashion trends.

At least he'll witness Damian in one of these frilly things too, splitting the shame, (if the masochist would even consider it that). Still, the mercenary would have preferred an ensemble that came with a pair of britches instead.

"The mask stays on," the brute stipulates, snatching the dress out of Boudica's hands while the hellgirl snickers at his misfortune.

"A small price to pay,” the patron lady permits, sending both Boudica and Barristan along with them to the fitting rooms to assure their compliance.

As the heir eagerly awaits their return, she rifles through a bucket list of chores. Perhaps, scrubbing the floor on their hands and knees to start with, then running her a nice hot bath before finally preparing her a candlelight dinner.

Who's to say what will happen in between, but the night will end with them tucking her into bed, wishing her goodnight with a doting peck on each curve of her rosy cheeks.

{Finis}

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(*Rough translation notes for Boudica's Old Norse tongue: skilpadda = turtle / svín = swine / fífl = idiots / böllur = balls)

[penddraig]

❝    i really do hate when you act like this,    ❞    howl mutters,   sounding both incredibly vexed and incredibly compliant   ( in a way that suggests the way he puts his chin down is one of humility ).    ❝    you really do think you understand me.   i’ll tell you    you may know a great deal of what i’ve involved myself with,   but you don’t know the full extent of it.   and you surely don’t know just how well i’ve been dealing with it !    ❞    true,   it’s a marvel in itself for muska to be walking and existing as he is here.   the castle itself creaks with acknowledgement,   groans as if it might bow at the power the entity possesses.   but howl never learned how to take a knee to anything,   and he doesn’t plan on starting now.

still    when he blinks and turns away,   his expression flickering in pain,   he does contemplate.   he still feels as if he’s a child at war sometimes,   only this time,   the war doesn’t take place over trampled,   bloody grass and through innocent abandoned streets,   but inside himself.   he cannot reach through to tear it out with his talons   ( though,   if he could,   he would certainly risk losing his mind to get it out ).   it is precisely that which wars within him in the first place.

but he’s nothing if not    or so he likes to boast    the best actor in ingary,   and as such,   he only scowls and makes known none of the vast worries that cluttered up the back of his mind,   waving away muska’s existential groundings with a wave of his wrist.    ❝    you make it sound as if you’ll walk in any day now to find me dead over the hearth.   if that were to ever happen,   it would have already.   i am capable enough to stave off threats.    ❞    as long as he keeps it up,   and keeps himself sharp.   sometimes,   he only wants to lie listlessly in his bath until the hot water turns cold.

but he’s not one to say outright that he wants muska to stay or leave.   admittedly,   he doesn’t want the absence,   but it might sooner rain acid than howl actually say it.   so he doesn’t.    ❝    i’m sorry to say that you won't find me in such a state for quite a long time.   you’ll just have to suffer in silence until i eventually kick the bucket.    ❞    which,   as it were,   might not even be all too long after all.   a reason,   he supposes,   he wants the laputian to stay so badly.   needs for him to stay.

he knows howl is there fr before the other makes his presence known. with such a bright energy, he likened howl to a star. and wasn't that fitting! after all, the younger magic user had traded his heart to a falling star (and as much as it had doomed howl, muska found calcifer lovely company). so, he's not surprised when he hears howl's voice, attention shifting from the old spellbook with its heated runes (his work-around to the loss of his sight).

❝ you are young and you wish for independence, ❞ begins the heavenly lord, molten gaze fixed on the young wizard's face (and he knows he doesn't need to physically see the expression on howl's face- he knows what it is), not quite mocking, but certainly with a certain unimpressed drawl-

❝ you were a child at war, i remember you from then- did you know, they sent us all to die. humans are cruel like that... ah, but then you were once the apprentice of another- no person learns magic on their own- ❞ this was true for muska as well- for as powerful as he had grown, he had been tutored by the greatest of laputa's scholars, and even as king, he had his advisors. he had anahita-

❝ what you have done on your own is rather evident. a less experienced mage may mistake you for someone like me. made of stardust- but your light exists due to the absence of something- like a flame, and flames can flicker out. you put yourself in quite the risky position, howl pendragon. ❞

a sigh, not that it was something completely hopeless, but left unattended, the consequences would only grow. howl could, in theory, take care of himself, but muska knew that it meant nothing of the quality of the care. ❝ you wanted to do something kind for a being far more powerful than either of us could truly comprehend, and look at where that's gotten you. but, if you wish for me to leave you to your fate, simply say the word. ❞

[folklorebitch13]

In The End, It's Just Us | pt.2

Series masterlist

summary: Your family escapes to the outer banks after traumatizing events, a broken girl meets a broken boy. Chaos ensures.

pairing: Jj maybank x Kook!female!reader

word count: 1.8K

warnings: angst, trauma, ptsd, headaches, smoking weed, slight eatiting disorder, nightmares, eventual smut, lonely Jj, Jj being an asshole.

a/n: Hey guys, here's chapter two, hope you guys enjoy :)

Chapter Two: Analysis Speech

You don't know how you made it home, halfways the small droplets of rain turned into thick vicious drops falling from the sky like the Spartan army ready for their next victory. You were high, tired and the guy behind you was fucking heavy, you think you might've fallen at some point but honestly, you don't remember.

"Shhhh!" you hushed the boy as you entered your house and he slammed the door shut, he held his hands up in defense and followed you. The both of you took your shoes off, your socks were drenched. He followed you up the stairs to your room.

"wait here," you said when you entered your room, maybe it was from his injury or he just liked ignoring you but he didn't answer, just looked around. You went to your closet and grabbed fresh clothes for yourself, wondering what you could give the stranger. 

You grabbed an oversized Freddie Mercury t-shirt for him and old boxers and sweatpants of Harry's. You gave him the sweatpants you were the least attached to because you had quite the collection of his clothes, but the idea of washing his smell away hurt you too badly.

"Catch," you said as you threw him the clothes, "get changed". You made your way to your bathroom, it felt nice wearing clean and fresh clothes, you were towel drying your hair while looking for a first aid kit. 

When you left the bathroom the blonde was dressed and for a moment you felt quite uncomfortable at seeing him in Harry's sweatpants, even though they were the most basic grey sweatpants ever.

You grabbed his wet clothes that were dropped in a pile on your floor and threw them somewhere in your bathroom. You climbed onto your queen-sized bed, "c'mon" you said and the guy climbed onto your bed. He was sitting cross-legged in front of you, looking at you like you were his worst enemy. 

"Can you stop that?" you said as you opened the box, you didn't mean for your voice to sound so small. "stop what?" he asked, his voice monotone, "looking at me like I've committed the worst crime, I mean you don't even know my name so what on earth could I possibly have done to you". 

You sounded vexed, Jj didn't mean to be so rude, he knew you were new and it wasn't your fault you were rich, but still, he was bound to hate Kooks. "Then tell me your name" Jj answer as he watches you through one eye, "Y/n" you mutter taking some cotton balls and what looks like disinfectant.

"Jj" he answers as you drench a cotton ball and bring it to his face, you start off with a cut at his eyebrow, and Jj hisses at the burn. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?" you ask, he chuckles before answering. 

"I stole some beers from your little kook gathering and when your little buddy's found out, they beat the shit out of me," he says with a nonhumorous smile on his face. 

"Who?" you ask, "Kelce and Rafe" the blonde answers, "they're not my friends" you answer, "but Topper is" Jj fires back, "Topper's been nice to me". He hums in response, you clean the rest of the little cuts on his face and rub some ointment on his bruises all the while he stares at you, almost predatory. 

"I'm done, your face is fine, you might wanna go to a doctor though, you can sleep on the left side of the bed" you before getting off of the bed. You make your way to the bathroom and grab your bottle of pills, your head's been killing you and you didn't want to risk listening to music on the bike.

you let three pills fall into your hands and pop them in your mouth before gulping water from the sink, one by one. As you look back into the mirror you have the fright of your life, "what was that?" Jj asks from the doorway of the bathroom. 

"Jesus I could've been naked" you mutter, dodging the question, "but you're not, so what are you like a drug addict, acting all sweet and innocent then poppin' pills when no one is looking?" he asks, "that's none of your fucking business" you bite back. 

You grab an ointment for your zombie foot, it's also been killing you. Jj goes back to your room and you use the privacy to massage the ointment onto your foot.

You hiss when you walk back to your room, a sting goes from your toes to your knee. Maybe Jj doesn't notice your limp or he decided not to comment on it but you're glad he doesn't mention it.

You grab your phone before laying on your side of the bed, "You can turn off the light if you want to sleep" you mutter, "why aren't you going to sleep?" he answers. he's on his stomach, head leaning on his fist, a sly look on his face. "Because I don't like to sleep around other people" you answer truthfully.

"I'm not some kind of rapist if that's what you're scared of" he shrugs and you get the urge to slap him. "That has nothing to do with why I'm not sleeping tonight" you scoff, "well then why aren't you?" he presses, "that's not any of your fucking business" you answer, putting your phone away to glare at him.

He doesn't need to know that the reason is that you're scared you're gonna wake him up because you're having a nightmare and the rumors will go around. The rumors are gonna be there anyway, you can already hear them.

"I heard she fell off a balcony and now she's crazy".

"a girl tweeted that the reason she was pushed off the balcony by her boyfriend was that she cheated on him, honestly she deserved it, he's hot".

"I heard she pushed herself off the balcony and made it all up for attention".

The last thing you needed was, "I heard she slept with some pogue and woke up in the middle of the night, crying because she misses her little boyfriend. whore".

"you are a weird person" He mutters, "how so?" you question, "you're not like most people of your kind," he says. You chuckle, "people of my kind?", "yes, people like you" he repeats. "And what do you believe my kind is?" you ask.

"you're a kook, obviously, a lot of money, you probably have daddy issues because he works so much, mommy issues because she tells you to eat less, that's why you look so sick. 

You're dating some rich kid, that's why these basic sweatpants I'm wearing are Gucci and the underwear Calvin Klein. You've probably had an abortion or two, and you let your boyfriend cheat on you because he tells you he'll change, he'll be better. 

But you're not like the other rich girls no, you're not just pretty you're also smart, hence all the books laying around, you're poetic, a hopeless romantic. You're not like the other girls, instead of reading vogue you read a book named 'Miss Dior'" he picks up the book laying next to your bed.

"you don't wear fur like the other girls unless it's vintage Prada of course. You do well in school, don't go to a lot of parties because you're oh so smart, so you spent your time sniffing coke" he says, his words cutting you like a knife, you almost have tears in your eyes because of his harsh judgment.

"I'm not a kook, I am rich but I will not accept to live under these gross labels like I'm an animal" you answer, your voice shaking, tears stinging in your eyes.

"You're sexist, by the way, because it's both my parents working hard, if not my mother harder because she's not getting her cock sucked during conferences. And it's both of them telling me I'm fat, I know I am not but sometimes it's hard to eat when the two people who should be most important to you tell you it's wrong.

Those sweatpants are from the most important person in my life, a person who would never cheat on me and who loves me. He loves me unconditionally and if you want to judge me or punish me with harsh words because the one person in my life that I care for is rich then go ahead.

I've never had an abortion before because I haven't ever had sex, yet I'm a whore, you might not have said it but you think it. Am I a whore because Rafe is the first person I've met on this island and he happens to be a male? How about that girl on the boat with you, is she a whore too?

I enjoy reading and I don't think it makes me special, I read vogue but that's not okay either is it? because if I read vogue I'm a basic rich girl if I read a biography on Christian Dior's sister who was part of the french resistance then I'm a wannabe nerd, a pick me. because girls like me, pretty rich girls we can't have any interests can we?

It's not even like I enjoy reading anymore because if I do my head hurts and I need to take pills that me dizzy and so nauseous I almost want to kill myself. And I'm not gonna sleep because if I have a nightmare I don't need a guy like you to go around telling people that I'm out of my mind" you say.

You instantly regret your little speech, not because you regret the things you said but because of the awkward silence. The rumors are different now.

"oh there's the crazy feminist, I heard her dad gets his dick sucked during conferences".

Jj squints at you before speaking up, "so you do have some personality". "what?" you sigh, "yeah I didn't mean any of that I was just wondering how you'd respond. great response, I liked the analysis of sexism" he chuckled. "You're a real dick," you say crossing your arm, "not if you get to know me, and I'm for sure way less of a dick than Topper" he smirks.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone about this, wouldn't want to ruin my reputation by saying I spent the night at a pretty girl's place, anyways you can sleep you know, if you have a nightmare I'll wake you," he says, his voice chill almost gentle. You frown, "it's not a trap, imma go to sleep now if you don't mind, and uh... thanks for letting me stay over," he says before turning around, his back facing you and pulling the blanket to his chin.

"okay" you simply answer, you know it's not a big deal and you should be offended and disgusted by him because he acted like a huge asshole, but somehow, deep inside you, you feel some kind of relief, acceptance, like you gained this boy's respect.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

drabble masterlist

these are all of the drabbles i have written for critical role or the legend of vox machina. they are stand-alone and should be assumed to contain spoilers for either cr or tlovm. they are also collected on ao3 in a work titled worse: we're family. want to prompt me something? see my ask meme tag or just send me an ask with an idea. (please be sure to specify the ask meme your prompt is from, especially if it's not the most recent one i've reblogged!) this post will be linked on my pinned post and updated as new drabbles are posted. i will take prompts for critical role, the legend of vox machina, or my longfic, my fair lady (see my pinned post for more info). i am willing to write characters from any cr campaign, but these are the ships i feel most comfortable/excited to write:

keyleth/vax

vex/percy

vax/gilmore

keyleth/vax/gilmore

caleb/essek

jester/fjord

orym/will

laudna/imogen

dorian/orym

i also really enjoy writing platonic friendships between really any of the cr pcs (or npcs!) so feel free to float those my way as well! you can be as specific or as general as you'd like in prompts.

critical role - campaign one - keyleth/vax

"I need to change the bandage."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

The first time they realize their partner will live a large part of their life without them

A near death experience involving the partner meant to live longer shaking the faith of the shorter lived partner

Being an expert in teasing each other

Kissing to make them stop talking

On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other's touch while the streets bustle outside

Smoothing your fingers down your lover's tie, fixing where your lover couldn't tie it right

Pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet. Both of you unable to continue with the jokes

Whispering jokes/loving words in a lecture/school/church/a meeting. Trying not to laugh/flirt back in fear of disturbing everyone else who’s trying to pay attention

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"I can't sleep if you're not here to cuddle with me."

Risking something in order to achieve something

Going to sleep as the big spoon and waking up as the little spoon

“I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the sky.”

critical role - campaign one - vex/percy

"They're gone, it's okay."

"It's not til death do us part for us, is it? It's until death takes you from me."

"Even if you’re sick, you’re still the prettiest girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse in the world."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Ranting to friends or a relative about the other, only for them to agree and call you out on your wrongdoings

"What have you done to my heart?"

Using the made-up words of their child(ren) in all their conversations

"I think you should kiss me."

critical role - campaign one - everyone else

"Don't move, you're still hurt." (keyleth & percy)

Friends of a recovering person come over to celebrate their homecoming (pike & vax)

Always pointing out certain annoying behaviour (pike/scanlan)

Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain (vax/gilmore)

Feeling so lonely that they have to call their lover/friend, just to get a sense and reminder that they're still there (keyleth & percy)

Hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters (vesper & gwendolyn)

Lingering with your lips open, touching, but not kissing, and this one glance at their eyes and you say fuck it and pull at their collar to kiss them (vax/gilmore)

"Touch them again and I promise, it will be the last thing you ever do." (vex & vax)

Vex and Percy have to deal for the first time with their eldest teen acting a bit out (percy & wolfe)

"Leave the light on." (keyleth & vilya)

Seeing what the other needs without them having to say it out loud (keyleth & percy)

Sharing something personal (pike/scanlan)

Defending them in front of others (keyleth & scanlan)

Tucking strands of loose hair behind their ears, with a thumb caressing their cheek (vax/gilmore)

Kiss on the forehead (pike/scanlan)

Patching up a wound (scanlan & vax)

Protecting (scanlan & kaylie)

Near death experience (scanlan & vax)

"I looked everywhere for you." (keyleth & pike)

"I'm not going anywhere." (pike & scanlan)

"Holy shit. Are you okay? What the hell happened?" (vex & scanlan)

"You're not weak for needing people." (grog & percy)

Vax meets a young Orym in Zephrah (orym & vax)

critical role - campaign two

"Hey, leave them alone. They just fell asleep." (beau & caleb)

"C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me." (caleb/essek)

"Don't you dare wake them up." (beau & caleb)

"I won't let them put their hands on you." (beau & caleb)

Reassurance in the form of food/movies/games, forcing them to take a second away and relax with you (veth & caleb)

"I am trusting you with that hand, darling. I hope my trust isn't misplaced." (caleb/essek)

Breaking down mid-hug because they just needed this so much (keyleth & vilya)

Helping each other out (jester & caduceus)

Collecting flowers on their way home (beau/yasha)

“As soon as I heard what happened, I dropped everything and rushed over here.” (beau & clara)

“What have I told you about getting into fights?”/“They were talking shit about you!” (beau & caleb)

Giving them their personal space (caleb/essek)

Person A and person B accidentally giving each other flowers at the same time (jester/fjord)

Interlacing their fingers with the other’s when they least expect it (caleb/essek)

Games (beau & jester & veth)

Platonic kisses (essek)

"Look, I made this for you. I also made one for mum/dad/parent." (beau/yasha)

"She's my date. Fuck off." (beau/yasha)

"Get some sleep." (caleb/essek)

critical role - campaign three

Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose (orym/will)

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." (keyleth/vax)

"That's been known to happen." (fearne & orym)

"Can I hold your hand?" (dorian/orym)

the legend of vox machina - season one

"I need to change the bandage." (keyleth/vax)

"I owe you an apology." (keyleth & vex)

Having a fight with just looks (vex/percy)

"Let yourself cry, I'm here now. You're safe." (keyleth/vax)

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" (keyleth/vax)

Catching the other one crying shortly after and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you (keyleth & vex)

Sharing a pillow and waking up with their faces only centimetres apart (keyleth/vax)

the legend of vox machina - season two

A missing conversation from 2x08 (keyleth/vax)

Another missing conversation from 2x08 (keyleth & percy)

Letting out their anger in front of them (keyleth/vax)

Doing something silly to cheer them up (keyleth/vax)

Kisses on the cheek when they leave the room (keyleth/vax)

"Darling, you're shivering. Come here, let me warm you up." (vex/percy)

Starting to heal (pike & grog)

Losing your mind when they tilt your chin to look you in the eye (vex/percy)

That glance at your body with their eyes subtly widening, almost gulping as they take in your attire (keyleth/vax)

Resting their head on the other's stomach, only to fall asleep there (vex & trinket)

Opening up about their own struggles when they see the other's problems (keyleth/vax)

Opening up about their own struggles when they see the other's problems (keyleth & vex)

Cold (pike & percy)

“Just say a word and I’ll kill him.” (keyleth/vax)

[sirowsky]

The Lonely Castle

Chapter 6 - Idiots

Chapter Summary: Ember and Pero are idiots, but they might be about to realise that about themselves, as their bickering reaches a turning point.

Author's Note: My week has not been great, my loves, which is why this chapter is short. Hopefully sweet, though.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Cursing, idiots in love, angst, historical errors (probably something more, I'm too tired to think, sorry) Word Count: 4264 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

“You expect me to believe that…?”

“It’s just a feeling, Snow, I’m not suggesting we ignore the threat and start running around outside all exposed.”

“Well, good, because I wasn’t planning on it. And you better not be either.”

“Since when am I the one of us most prone to taking risks?”

“What are you implying? I have never deliberately exposed myself to any serious risks.”

“No? You mean to say it wasn’t your choice to defy all expectations, learn crafts and skills not suited for your sex, run from the Royal Guard, or become companion with the likes of me?”

She wanted to tell him that those weren’t risks, and that she hadn’t really had a choice for some of it. But that would be lies. She had done all of those things, and more, knowing that they were inappropriate or even illegal, and that she might face dire consequences for them, but she still hated the implication that she was a person who sought risks, or simply ignored them.

“If you’re going to use the torments and trials of my life as food for your mockery, then don’t expect me to share any more of them.”

“I’m not trying to mock you; you asked a question which I then questioned. You haven’t heard me snap at you for implying that I would be foolish enough to take a stroll outside, on a mere hunch that I might not be attacked.”

“I am not snapping at you.”

He just raised his thick eyebrows and kept staring at her, and it infuriated her that she couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed.

“Fine, maybe I am, but maybe you deserve it.”

His eyebrows came back down, but not into a scowl as she’d assumed. Instead, he just looked… accepting. As though he thought himself deserving of any and all amount of snapping she might decide to rain over him. And suddenly her anger was unbiddenly replaced with sadness and regret. He nodded once, briefly, and then went over to the fireplace to add some more wood, wincing as he lowered himself down to his knees to poke the coals. Damn the man, couldn’t he ever just be like normal men, and bark and yell at her so that she could do the same, and finally release some tension out of her frame? Why did he have to be so incomprehensible and unpredictable all the time?

“Just like that?”

Confused, he turned to look at her from his crouched position in front of the fire, but didn’t say anything.

“I make one remark about you deserving to be snapped at, and you simply accept that as truth?”

He looked back into the flames before he replied, as if there was something in his eyes he didn’t want her to see, which only further vexed her, because she truly did want to understand him better, but he kept robbing her of so many opportunities to.

“Would you prefer I argue with you?”

Well… yes, actually.

“I would prefer that something about you made sense! You’re impossible! On the one hand you can be so kind and careful, and then you’re suddenly disgruntled and evasive, and there’s just no logic to it. What must I do for you to dare show me who you really are?”

“Snow…”

“No, Pero, just tell me. Two months we’ve been trapped with each other now. I’ve hunted for you, fought for you, literally carried you and protected you with my life. I’ve allowed you to touch me and forgiven you when you have without my consent, but whether I treat you with kindness or anger, it never changes anything. I still know almost nothing more about you now than I did when we first met. Why won’t you let me know you?”

He sighed, and it was as though the action made him shrink a little.

“I am not someone you actually want to know. Not like that. Trust me.”

“That’s a cowardly answer.”

She saw him attempt to stand up, only to halt the movement when his upper back complained enough to make him close his eyes and sink back down the few inches he’d begun to rise. The pain made him clamp his jaws down on whatever it was he’d been about to say, but after a few moments of attempting to loosen them, he tried again.

“I’m not going to tell you about the things in my life that can only frighten you. There is nothing to be gained by such a conversation. If that makes me a coward to your eyes… so be it.”

“I don’t scare that easily.”

He sighed again, rubbing his hand over his face before lightly shaking his head towards the flames.

“Does it even occur to you that you shouldn’t have to know terrible things, only because you might be able to stomach them better than others?”

You made an effort to sound less irritated, so that he might truly hear you.

“Pero… I recognise that I have very limited options if I wish to live a long life, and I truly consider myself fortunate to have stumbled upon a man such as you, willing to shoulder the burden that I carry. But if I am to spend the rest of my life with you, however lengthy or brief it might end up, I wish to at least attempt to make it a good one, and I can’t fathom how any life filled with secrets could ever be a happy one.”

He looked at her again, and there was something so deeply hurt in the depth of his eyes that tears formed in her own, just at the sight of him.

“I don’t know how to live happily, mi sueño.”

With that, he grabbed the top of the fireplace opening and heaved himself up with only his right arm, ignoring the pain that so clearly shot through his entire back, and she felt her hands twitch towards him, wanting to help, but knowing that she wouldn’t be welcome to. Then he slowly made his way back to the stairs and walked up to the next floor. Hopefully to rest, and not sit in the flag tower out in the cold, keeping watch. Going after him would only anger him, and he was too weak for outbursts like that still. She’d been wrong to pick a fight with him today, but he was just so frustrating, she couldn’t help but bark at him at times, and besides; it wasn’t like the past several days had been relaxing. With a great deal of sleep and nutrition to catch up on, as well as the lingering threat of an actual fucking monster outside the door, Ember was somewhat on edge, still ready to react and guard and fight. But her companion seemed only drained. As though the monster no longer had any residence in his mind, replaced by what seemed to be old ghosts that haunted the man relentlessly and without mercy. If only she knew what those spirits were tormenting him for, perhaps she could’ve helped him. If only he’d given her the chance. With nothing on hand to busy her restless mind, still expecting to see monsters in every shadow, and unable to go out hunting and let her body release some tension, she went to the kitchen instead, and started making bread. At least the kneading would allow her to work some muscles, and perhaps let her relax a little with the sense that she was actually doing something.

Pero wasn’t angry. He was sad and disappointed with himself, but he wasn’t angry. He knew that it had seemed as though he was, and he regretted that, because it meant that she would think that she’d upset him, when in fact it was own past, his own choices and mistakes that had made him react as he had. If only he’d known how to tell her that. If only he’d dared to tell her the truth. But he was injured and weak and no matter how much he tried to control himself, the emotions sat closer to the surface of his soul than usual, and he couldn’t stop them from coming over him with full force. He had been cowardly at times, not just concerning his heart. At the strange big wall, he’d chosen to steal and flee, rather than fight, even though it had meant leaving his only friend behind, and that was far from the only time he’d made selfish decisions like that, which was why her words had affected him so deeply. He needed rest, and he needed to keep himself calm. The pelts were all still on the floor downstairs, so his bed was reduced to just the pine padding, but it would have to do. He laid down carefully on his right side, falling asleep almost instantly.

He woke after what felt like a long time, and it took him a moment to realise what had roused him, despite what seemed like a dreadful fatigue plaguing him still, until he became aware that something smelled heavenly. He knew that smell, and he’d know it anywhere, even though he’d only felt it a handful of times in all his years in this world. The life he’d led hadn’t given him many opportunities to buy bread, nor sufficient coin to waste on such a thing, but occasionally, he’d stolen a piece if the chance presented itself. His body was stiff and uncooperative, but he willed it to move all the same, grimacing badly as he made his way back downstairs, where the scent was truly everywhere and overwhelming his senses until he could almost taste it. It made his mouth water with anticipation. Snow was seated on the pelts in front of the fireplace, poking at the fresh wood she must’ve recently added to the flames, after using the coals to bake the pieces of bread which now sat to cool on a clean cloth beside her. There was a braided basket on her other side, and even though they were wrapped in another cloth, he knew it was filled with the pieces which had already cooled sufficiently. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t yet noticed his presence, and she seemed so sad that for a moment he hesitated to approach her. Perhaps she’d only grow angry again if he disturbed her, and he was too tired to argue any more right then. But before he could decide whether he should leave her be, she suddenly turned her head, and an unexpected smile came into her features, when she saw him standing there. It was small, but warm, and it seemed to chase away the sadness from her heart, which made him unreasonably happy.

“They’re best while they’re warm. I was going to come and get you once I finished.”

While she spoke, she picked up one of the pieces that was cooling and held it out to him.

“You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to, but you should definitely eat, you look terrible.”

He made his way over to her, and without taking the offered bread, started working his way down to the bedding to join her, and once she realised what he was doing, she reached out to help steady him as he lowered himself. She did it reflexively, her desire to help so ingrained in her person after so many years of assisting her father, that it was natural to her, but he wondered if she knew how few the occasions were, that she’d reached out to him voluntarily before.

“Thank you. The smell woke me.”

“I’m glad you got some rest.”

Again, she offered him the bread, but even though his mouth was still watering, he didn’t take it yet.

“I’m sorry, Snow. I was obtuse before.”

“So was I. You’re a mystery to me, and I don’t like that. But I think I finally understand why. I think it’s because I’ve always been in control of my own life, and always made the decisions that impacted my circumstances, by myself, and now that’s all gone. I have no control anymore, over much of anything, really, and it makes me feel trapped. But none of that is your fault, and I’m wrong to blame you or demand answers from you for no greater cause than my own flaws.”

Once more, she offered the fruits of her labour, and this time he took it, but merely held the warm delicacy in his cold hands, staring at it while he tried to find the right words.

“I do want you to know me. The problem is, that I also don’t, because of the darkness that has followed me ever since I was a boy, running from my home. I fear that it will stain you, make you harder, colder, and I so profoundly enjoy your light and warmth. I’m not proud of the man I am, or many of the things I’ve done, and thus, I refrain from speaking of them, but not because of any ill will or desire to keep you fumbling in the dark. I wish only to shield you.”

“A creature actually born of darkness hunts us, and yet you think you are the thing I need shielding from? You compare yourself to the beast? Do you really think your darkness could rival a creature that sinister?”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, so that she would know that his answer, however unexpected or unbelievable, was what he truly thought.

“You call it sinister, and you may very well be correct. It did bite me. But the creature also had many opportunities to harm you, yet elected only to follow and observe. We understand nothing of its intentions, meaning we can say nothing of the depth of its darkness. And thus, for all we know, mine might be even worse than the beasts.”

She stared back into his dark orbs, looking mostly confused, which was understandable, but there was something else there as well, not so easily deciphered. Not the fear he might have expected, but rather a frustration of some sort. However, she chose not to answer him, which he found odd.

“I think there are many kinds of monsters, and that there are an infinite number of ways to harm someone, even without leaving a mark on their skin, and I would rather suffer eternal loneliness, than harm you.”

She still only stared back at him with that strange look in her eyes, until she suddenly nodded towards his hands.

“I didn’t bake the bread merely to be stared at.”

Her tone made it clear that she would give no further reply to the subject of monsters and darkness, and he knew better than to try and push her. So, instead he lifted the bread to his mouth and took a bite, savouring the soft, moist texture, and the somehow both sweet and savoury taste. It was utterly delicious, and if not for the ache within his heart, craving to taste so much more than just her culinary productions, he would’ve found that moment quite enjoyable.

The snow had settled in around the castle by the time they felt it was safe to start venturing outside again, several weeks after Pero’s last sighting of the creature. His wounds had healed well, and he was back to form by then. But Ember had noticed that he sporadically seemed troubled by the scars, as though they still stung him sometimes, and she wondered if the poison they believed the creature might have infected him with, was somehow still not fully expelled or burned out of his body. It worried her. She’d never seen a poison that could have such a lasting effect. At least, not one that any man could survive. He had set about clearing the stairs to the basement as soon as he could move freely again, and within a week had opened the path, but the route was still unpassable as there were no steps remaining. So, while they were still trapped indoors, he’d made new ones, meaning they could now reach their food-supply without leaving the castle. The few times they did require stepping out for something, it was water, which the snow simplified for them, more wood for the fire, or fresh branches for their bedding. They remained careful, though. Only ever going out together, so that one of them could always keep watch on their surroundings, and never going further than within sight of the castle, in case they might need to run back there. Five weeks after they last saw the monster, they had no choice but to bring home more wood, to make sure it would have time to dry before their current supply would run out, so they set out at dawn, together, and got to work. They brought down two trees, cut them into manageable pieces, and hauled them back to the castle, and the shelter of the stables, to chop them up and stack them. All without a single word being exchanged between them. That had become their routine somehow, ever since that evening with the bread, and Pero’s thoughts about his own darkness. Ember had been unable to find words to describe how preposterous that had sounded to her, but also felt that merely calling his thoughts preposterous would’ve been exceedingly rude and disrespectful, when he seemed so convinced of the truth within them himself. But how could any human, no matter how degenerate, possibly rival the darkness of an actual demon? Somehow, this question, despite never having been asked, now sat like a dagger between them. Because she knew that if she were to ask it, he would not respond in any favourable manner, more likely he would be angered by her disagreement of his self-assessment, and since she was incapable of leaving well enough alone, they would undoubtedly only end up arguing again. Thus; almost complete silence reigned over them both. Until that day.

“How does it work? Your logic.”

He stopped working and straightened up to meet her eyes with a furrowed brow.

“Regarding what?”

“Yourself, me, monsters… take your pick.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking?”

She took a breath, trying to keep herself calm. It didn’t really work.

“I’m asking, yet again, how you can be so caring and protective of me, and at the same time, so impossibly indifferent to my pain?”

He flinched, and then dropped his axe on the chopping block, before stepping closer to her, his brow now creased in concern.

“What pain? Are you injured, did you cut yourself?”

“No! That’s not what I mean.”

The frown became a scowl, but she could see him try not to get irritated with her for once again bringing up what appeared to him to be impossible questions.

“Then to what pain are you referring?”

“All of it. All of it, Pero. The pain of not understanding my own life, my own circumstance. The pain of a loss so profound it still hurts me in every breath. But most of all; the pain of not understanding why I am exiled, not from Boden or any society… but from you.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and a fire seemed to spark somewhere within him. Still, he remained annoyingly calm.

“It has never been my intent to make you feel this way.”

“But you do! You make me feel like more of an outsider here, than I ever did in my home town, and they all hated me!”

For a brief moment, she saw hurt in his eyes, before he concealed it by letting his anger lose. Still, his voice was calm. It was only his eyes that betrayed the fire within.

“So, because someone else made you feel this way, logically I must hate you too?”

“Do you? I ask because I honestly can’t tell. I can never tell how you truly feel, or what you might decide to react to, or what those reactions might be.”

“I don’t hate you. But if you no longer trust me, then what good are my words?”

“Just, please, stop hiding from me and let me see you! Let me know what’s in your heart…”

He wanted to. She could see it. Something strong fighting within him, wanting to break free, but remaining chained up and locked away, and she hated it. She hated that he did that to himself. She hated that a part of her knew that he always would.

“What is the point of protecting me, keeping me here, just so we can both be miserable for the rest of our days? If this uncertain volatility is to be my life, then I would rather see you end me.”

Something inside of him reached its limit at her words, and a fury unlike anything she’d seen or heard tales of before, suddenly scorched the very air around them both, as he rapidly approached her. She couldn’t help but back away, as her instincts reacted, but he kept coming closer.

“If it was your wish to escape me, you had plenty of chances to try, and if you were truly indifferent to living, you wouldn’t have fought so hard to save us both. Stop being dramatic and just tell me what you’re really after, Snow?”

Something that hurt in a very different way than any pain she’d previously known, carved its way through her heart as she realised what this was truly about. Why she kept feeling compelled to know what was in his heart. Tears filled her eyes as they continued to stare into his, hoping to see something that would never be there. No matter how much she wished it, the tenderness and warmth that she sought from him, would never be hers, and perhaps confessing that, to her own heart as much as his mind, was the only way to be free of it.

“…Love.”

The tears accompanied the word as it tentatively fell from her lips, and she watched his face turn blank and unreadable in response. She waited. Surely a word that carried that much power, that much significance, would be enough to earn an honest reply, but he remained silent and unyielding. And suddenly the pain morphed into anger, yet again, because this time she needed a response. A real, earnest one, even if it was a rejection.

“What use is there to say anything at all to you? You’re right, you are cold, and dark and cruel, and you wouldn’t know love if it punched you in the face!”

Knowing he wouldn’t grace her with an answer of any kind, she left the stables and trudged through the snow towards the stairs. They barricaded the door down to the basement from the main hall, every time they left the castle, just in case the beast tried to crawl inside through the much wider, damaged stairwell, while they were out. Otherwise, that would’ve been her closest entry. But she hadn’t even passed that door, when she heard him behind her. Not following, just stepping out from the stables so she’d hear him.

“Only because I’ve never met someone like you before.”

She stopped, scarcely believing her own ears. She turned to find him standing there, in the doorway, no longer able to cling to the blank expression, instead seemingly on the verge of drowning in fear, now that he’d finally unchained his heart. For her. It was fear of his own affection for her that had made him so distant, so unwilling to bare his soul, terrified that she wouldn’t like what she saw, not because he feared her judgement, but because he simply wanted her to like him. All of him. And he didn’t believe anyone could. Her heart sung with joy, and a lightness she hadn’t felt for a very long time, perhaps ever, spread like a grass-fire through her body, sparkling to the surface and forming the brightest smile she’d ever felt before. So bright that it blinded her to everything else. The smile hadn’t even reached her lips when the darkness took him. It appeared from above. The thick, muscular tail wrapped around him so tightly, and then he was gone. Lifted off the ground and snatched away in the bright light of the midday sun, so quickly it was as if lightning had reached for him. It seemed all the more unreal in daylight, somehow. Monsters belonged in the shadows, that’s what all the stories always said. That the day chased them away, that light conquered dark, that people were safe under the sun. The brightness vanished, replaced by the ice and fire of fear, drawing desperate screams up her throat as she ran to the other side of the castle, hoping to see where the creature would take him. But there was nothing there. She circled the structure, looking for traces, tracks, claw marks, anything at all. Fresh snow, a foot deep, covered everything. And yet, not one footprint could be found. Not one trace. They were just gone. Hopelessness descended upon her shoulders, with the realisation that she couldn’t follow him, that there was nothing to track, meaning that… she was alone. She fell to her knees, and it was as though an impossibly heavy weight had been placed on top of her, trying to crush her. Body, mind and soul. He was all she had left. And he was gone.

***************

Link to Chapter 7

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

@sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @hounding-around @tobealostwanderer @deadhumourist @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @nolanell @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @dihra-vesa @feminist-violinist

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

Me: I’m just going to quietly work on a scene tonight. My Brain: SHARE SHARE SHARE Me: Oh fine then.

(Have some newlywed Barolice, with Alice getting inflicted with thirst brain over a rain-soaked Barok and getting flustered because attraction and what gets someone hot under the collar are very confusing. Warning! Slightly unsafe for work.)

Her hand reached up to temporarily take off and assess the state of her glasses. There were still a few stray droplets on the lenses. Her soaked clothes chilled her to the bone. She was extremely grateful to be inside the safety of the manor now, at least, where it was dry. They would need to get out of their wet clothes soon or risk catching cold. Replacing her glasses, Alice followed her husband up the stairs to the bedroom, going inside ahead when he opened the door for her. 

It was such a disappointment that their walk around the grounds was cut short by the sudden onslaught of rain, she thought. She really had been hoping to get more of a feel for the land around the Van Zieks’ country estate. But, it seemed that would have to be a matter for another time. 

Alice wasted no time in beginning to undo and remove her clothes. She was not at all self-conscious about the matter, thinking about getting herself into something dry, and warm. That was, until she heard the door close behind her. She heard the soft rustling of Barok divesting himself of some of his own clothing, and instinctively turned towards the noise. He was turned away from her, having already discarded his coat, cravat, vest, and gloves. 

“Do you need any help?” she found herself asking without really thinking about it. But before she could add an additional thought, she found the words evaporate as her eyes fell upon him. Even his undermost shirt wasn’t spared from the storm. It wasn’t as thoroughly soaked through as the top layers had been. But it was still wet, enough so that it was translucent and clinging to his form. 

The dips and curves of his body revealed themselves in ways that even his more form-fitting attire normally did not. 

 Water streaked from his hair, running down across his face to the line of his jaw. His skin glistened with moisture. And while his breath was slightly haggard from the run back into the manor, it was even and steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm.

The sight not only held her gaze, but caused a sudden wave of heat to rise up through her body.  Her heart started to flutter in her chest. He looked positively breathtaking at that moment to her. And images of running her hands along his glistening skin began to dance around in her mind. Tempting, tormenting images. 

Wait… why … of all the-? 

Her surprise at her own reaction caused her to gasp lightly as she immediately shot her gaze away. What on earth? For goodness’ sake, Alice, your husband is all cold and wet! She attempted to refocus herself as she awaited her husband’s reply, hoping desperately that she could get her mind to be cooperative. 

Though it seemed ever since their wedding night, which was a few days ago now, her mind had been anything but cooperative when it came to matters of earthly delights.

“I wouldn’t object to your assistance, my dear,” he replied serenely, “I offer mine in kind, should you require it. But, pray, tell me something, if you would.”

Alice found herself momentarily snapped out of her flustered state, looking back over to her husband with a quizzical expression. “Yes, Barok?”

“What had you so vexed until just an instant ago?”

Oh! And just as she’d thought it’d left her in peace, her previous state returned with a vengeance. Another wave of heat rushed through her, darkening her cheeks with a vibrant blush. The fact there was a certain sort of knowing in his tone made it all worse. And he looked as stoic as ever.

“Oh it’s not … it’s only-” She halted abruptly, considering her words before continuing. “It’s rather silly, really. I just thought for a moment that you looked rather handsome is all. Forgive me.”

Even though you’re rain-soaked. Actually because you’re rain-soaked. She internally sighed at herself. 

There was a pause. But then, there was the slightest crack of a smile on Barok’s countenance, and the rise and fall of his chest became quick and erratic as though he were… quietly laughing to himself? 

He’s laughing? Alice blinked in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

i have been working religiously on my book, so here is another part for y’all!

— — —

“I’m sorry, Mister Proctor,” Mary whispered as they approached Proctor’s horse.

“For a mouse that squeals and cries as loudly as you do during punishments, you sure love doing things that will warrant such treatment,” Proctor said.

Mary lowered her head. It still hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Help me onto my horse.”

Mary obeyed.

“Do try to keep up. I don’t want to be waiting on you. A storm is coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor was right: a storm was coming, and it hit with the regular ferocity of a Massachusetts winter tempest. Now she understood why Proctor was wearing so many layers.

By the time they were halfway to the farm, Mary was completely soaked and shivering, the cold having crept deep into her bones, turning them into rods of ice. She wondered if this freezing rain had been sent by God Himself to punish her for her wrongdoings. It certainly felt like a lashing from the Lord.

“You could have been back inside by now,” Proctor mused atop his steed. Mary could barely hear him over the crunching of gravel and pattering of rain. “But instead you had to go galavant through Salem.”

“I was worried about my friends,” Mary said, daring to defend herself.

Proctor scoffed but didn’t say anything.

In the distance, a farm swam through the sheets of icy rain. It wasn’t the Proctor property, so there was no point in stopping, but someone called out to them anyway.

“Ah, John! Have you come to accuse me some more? If you haven’t noticed, it’s raining. I can’t set anything on fire in this weather.”

Proctor ground his teeth. “I already apologized to you for that.”

“And yet, here we are!”

There was an old man leaning on the fence bordering the property, white hair clinging to a balding scalp, deep blue eyes sparking with mischief in the half-light. He had a wrinkly lizard’s face and hands more befitting for a skeleton. Despite his age, Mary knew he had enough vigor to best any of the younger men in the village. She heard he once beat a burglar to death with a cane. He was a lot of vex and a little well-mannered, and he loved nothing more than to irritate the people of Salem Village, especially John Proctor.

“It would be a shame if this would be the year your land floods, John,” Giles Corey said. No person in their right mind would be out in this storm; he had definitely been waiting for Proctor to go down the road so he could prod him. He would risk getting ill if it meant he was able to dig under the younger farmer’s skin.

“If this is some kind of attempt to get the deed to my farm, then you can save it,” Proctor said, spurring his horse into motion again. “I’ve heard it all, Giles.”

Corey huffed. His expression brightened once again when he noticed Mary holding onto the saddle.

“Ah, Mary Warren! How are you, dearest? Is the back of your head alright?”

Proctor was quick to step in: “Don’t talk to her,” he snapped at Corey. Then, to Mary, “Don’t talk to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to kill that girl, John!” Corey shouted after them. “If you ever need a place to flee to, Mary Warren, Martha and I are willing to take a servant!”

His words were washed away by the rain, but they remained rooted inside of Mary’s brain. If only she could switch employers. If she weren’t an indentured servant, she would have gone to the Putnam’s a long time to work with Mercy. Maybe then every day wouldn’t be such a pain.

And speaking of pain…

Mary winced, tentatively touching the back of her head. She couldn’t tell if the dampness she was feeling was blood or just rainwater. Didn’t matter now. She dropped her arm.

Above her, Proctor was muttering in his saddle, casting a dark look at the road in front of him. He said something about Giles Corey and something else about the farm and something else about wanting to rip out the old man’s gizzard. He seemed awfully worked up about the confrontation.

“If I may, sir…”

Proctor looked down at her, eyes narrowed. Mary nearly stopped talking right then and there, but she swallowed her nerves and continued on.

“If Mister Corey is such a bother to you, why not do more to stop him?”

“Are you lame, girl?” Proctor snapped. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? Ever since the fire, he’s been a thorn in my side.”

The fire referred to a fire that started in Proctor’s house, a time before Mary went to work with his family, which she was grateful for because she wouldn’t have been able to handle that drama. Naturally, Proctor said Corey was responsible for the fire, which made Corey file a lawsuit against Proctor. Later, one of Proctor’s sons would come forward and admit to being the one to cause the fire. Proctor begrudgingly apologized, but that didn’t stop Corey from continuously bringing it up whenever he got the chance.

“Why do you bring it up?” Proctor then asked. “What would YOU do? Since you think you’re so clever.”

“Me? Well, I-- I, uhh… Maybe raise the price on the land? Make it to where it would be too expensive for him to want to buy.”

Proctor opened, then closed his mouth. Then, he squinted at her. Finally, he actually laughed and took off his broad-brimmed hat, batting her over the head with it.

“I guess you aren’t so stupid after all,” he said affectionately. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Mary cracked a small smile. The bad outweighed the good when it came to her master, but she knew John Proctor wasn’t all cruelty and lashings. He had a strong softness for all of his children and a deep love for his wife. Sometimes Mary would hear him reading light-hearted Bible stories to his younger kids at night. Sometimes she would stand outside the room and listen.

Through the glistening shroud of mist and drizzle at the side of the road, the Proctor property unfolded from the fog like a proper country castle. Acres upon acres of emerald green grass, sturdy barns, a fine house, fields chock full of crops and livestock. Their cattle were fat and happy, slick with rain, water streaming from their round bellies and mud splashing up from each delicate footstep. It darkened their coats and made them look like they were soaked in blood. It was no wonder why Giles Corey wanted the land so badly. It was thriving with wealth.

“Put my horse away,” Proctor said after sliding off the chestnut stallion’s back. “Tack him. Then come inside immediately. Do not run off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor gave her one last warning stare, then handed her the reins and walked to the house.

Mary would have taken her sweet time putting away the horse if it weren’t for the fact that she was freezing and her head was killing her. She tacked the stallion, put him into his stall, and fed him in record time, ready to get inside and change out of her wet clothes. However, when she finally entered the house, she didn’t get to do that. She was stopped by her master and mistress.

Proctor and Elizabeth were speaking to each other, but Mary could tell they were arguing, despite their level tones. They both turned to her when she stepped inside. Proctor was already in dry clothes, standing beside the roaring hearth. The flames looked so comforting and warm.

“Stay where you are,” Proctor ordered, noticing her desire to go to the fire.

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand she is in trouble, but at least let her warm up,” Elizabeth said.

Elizabeth Proctor had always been Mary’s favorite Proctor. Twenty-two years her husband’s her junior, though she looked a lot younger than that, she was kind and patient, never using the whip and rarely ever raising her voice. She wore dresses in soft shades, greatly mirroring her soothing nature; right now she was wearing a pale green gown with a white apron. Her hair was champagne blonde and her eyes were a pretty hazel with flecks of gold near the pupils. Mary craved her warm, maternal gaze so much it was almost painful.

“No,” Proctor said. “This is a part of her punishment.”

“She is going to freeze. Do you want our servant to freeze, John? Then what shall we do?”

“Get a better servant, perhaps? One that won’t run off?” He shot a glare at Mary, reminding her that he was, in fact, still mad about that, in case she had forgotten. She hadn’t.

So much for their moment on the road.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then sighed. She looked at Mary. “Yes, you should not have run off. You aren’t allowed to go anywhere without our permission. You know that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Always obedient, always agreeable. Mary knew her place.

“Why did you leave?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mercy came to see me, ma’am,” Mary answered. She didn’t want to throw her friend to the crows, but she also knew better than to not be dishonest, especially when she was already in trouble. “We wanted to go check on Abby and Betty. We heard that they weren’t well.”

“I heard that, too,” Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How are they?”

“Strange. They slept like the dead, but woke up out of nowhere and started screaming. Betty tried to jump out of the window!”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she?”

“That is none of our concern right now,” Proctor growled, butting his way back in. “This disobedience cannot go unpunished.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes…I suppose you’re right. I say no dinner tonight.”

Proctor rolled his eyes. “You coddle her, Elizabeth.”

“I do not coddle her!”

Ignoring his wife, Proctor looked at Mary, “Fetch me a switch.”

Mary released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her heart leapt out from the pit in her stomach. She nodded.

“Yes, sir.”