#second is faolain and kerra (with many other cameos involved)

[kerra-and-company]

WIP Whenever

Actually sharing some of my writing for the first time in a bit, thank you @commanderthalys @sunbat-commander and @archesa for the tags! <3 <3 (And honorable mention: thank you to @i-mybrunettelady who's absolutely tagged me in at least one of these before that I didn't answer!)

I will tag...hmmm...@just-eyris-things @vampiricsheep @ratasum @nibswrites @forsaken-constellation if any of you guys have things you'd like to share for this! (Also, if you're not specifically tagged but want to share please do consider yourself tagged :D )

Text from the images under the cut!

First fic snippet:

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but the kid is clinging to him like a lifeline, and so he very carefully (and awkwardly) brings his own arms up to encircle the kid. In response, a tiny face pushes harder against Colin’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Colin says, with no idea if that’s remotely true. “You’re safe here. My dad’s strong, and so are his friends. And me.” He pauses. Well. Someday I will be.

“No,” the kid whispers stubbornly, still breathing hard. “Not okay.”

“But it’s safe,” Colin says again. “I promise.”

“No!” the kid snaps, hands curling into tighter fists against Colin’s back. “Only promise if you mean it!”

“I mean it, kid,” Colin says, a little nonplussed at the sudden anger. “I promise.”

“Not okay,” the kid mutters, turning his head so that the words are muffled in Colin’s shirt. “No.”

“Okay. Not okay,” Colin agrees, giving up trying to talk. He holds the kid a little tighter and feels him exhale like he’s been falling and just hit ground. His breathing slowly starts to calm.

They’re on the ground in silence like that for a while, slowly shifting from the position that was starting to hurt Colin’s knees to sitting on the floor with the kid in his lap. At some point, Colin realizes the kid’s fallen asleep.

He tentatively moves his hand up, brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face. He looks a lot more peaceful, now.

Colin had always wanted to have a brother, but he’d always wished for an older one—someone like Isbert, his friend Warrin’s brother, who taught him cool sword techniques and the best routes through the hills. He’d never imagined being the older one before.

Second fic snippet:

Faolain hears about Caithe’s new prodigy rather quickly. She would never be content not to have eyes on her dearheart, after all.

It helps, of course, that the sapling—the Valiant, and isn’t that something—isn’t precisely keeping a low profile. She takes it upon herself to not only take out Renvari but to thwart the Nightmare attack on Astorea. Renvari is no great loss (never the sharpest thorn on the bush, that one), but the failed attack rankles. Just a bit.

Faolain visits Briarthorn a few weeks later. Routine inspection, checking in, making sure everyone’s keeping their noses clean. The court there comes to greet her, as they should. For a moment, eyes drifting over the nervous sylvari, she meets someone’s gaze—bright, focused lavender eyes.

The sylvari stares back at her, arms crossed. There’s a moment of calm in the stare, then pure anger. Furious anger and hatred, in fact. It’s so vicious that Faolain’s simultaneously delighted, taken aback, and furious in return—the lack of respect! But in the split second she takes to process, the eyes settle and pull away from hers, their owner lost in the crowd.

Her mouth tugs to the side slightly. She’ll have to interrogate Eorana about that one.

(What have you DONE? an echo from the past screams, faint but piercing.

She ignores it.)

Third fic snippet:

Cal nods quickly, half hoping she’ll tell them more and half hoping she’s done talking. It turns out to be the latter. She ruffles their hair—Cal complains as she does so—and says, “All right. Do you remember the rules?”

“Stay where you can see me,” Cal says, their enthusiasm slightly tempered by burgeoning impatience. “Don’t talk to anyone we don’t know.”

Mother puts her hand on her hip. “And?”

Cal grumbles under their breath. “Don’t get onto any ships by accident—I did that once when I was seven! I was little!”

Mother’s expression turns mischievous, and she scoops Cal up, kissing them all over their face while they squirm and giggle. Eventually she sets them down, dusting imaginary dirt from their clothes.

“Oh, I must have been mistaken. You’re eight now, of course you know to avoid ships—”

“I do!” Cal yelps, not enjoying the dusting. “I do, I do, I do! Promise!”

“Well, if you promise,” says their mother, standing up, and Cal nods, because of course they promise. (That’s their mom.) “Within sight of me!”

“Promise!” Cal says again, beaming. “Love you!”

And with that, they scurry away. They have a plan.