#seelah and woljif tease the most

[queen-scribbles]

From the Brink

27. passionate hand-holding [Vikkari/Arueshalae]

---

Vikkari woke up sore.

That in itself wasn't an unusual occurrence. Even before the Crusade, before he set to wandering, there were more than enough tasks on a farm like his family's to leave you with sore muscles come morning. And the life he'd led since striking out still made various levels of sore an occasional companion.

What was unusual was the deeper, painful ache in his side that registered a moment later.

More than a cramp, more than simple soreness, the sensation was akin to someone trying to pin him to the ground using his own ribs. It pulled a disoriented groan from him as he awoke and Vikkari instinctively curled in that direction. As if that would help.

"Hey, no, chief, you gotta--" Hands on his shoulders, pushing back, gentle but stubborn.

Vikkari fought them for a moment before giving in. The pain did, indeed, subside as he relaxed, blinking the world into focus. He was in a tent, in his bedroll, armor off, and a purple tiefling perched cross-legged on the ground next to him.

"Hey, chief." Woljif flashed an exaggerated grin that did absolutely nothing to hide the lingering worry in his eyes or the way his tail was twitching.

"Hey." His voice came out in a croak. Vikkari cleared his throat. "Why...?"

Why do I have to lie still? Why do I feel impaled? Why are you here but no one else? An ethereal green butterfly landed on his cheek and he reached by reflex to shoo it back into motion as he tried to decide which question to actually ask. Or at least ask first. They were all strong contenders.

"There's a piece of sword or stone or somethin' still stuck in your gut," Woljif said, tail flicking up to curl around his arm and then back down. "Sos is worried 'bout it causing more damage if you move too much before they get it out--think he was hopin' you'd stay out longer--but he and Seelah needed a break."

Vikkari stared at him blankly, not at all liking the implications of that flurried sentence.

Woljif frowned upon seeing his blank expression and leaned forward. "Do you not remember, boss?"

Before he could reply, the tent flaps were nudged aside as a scaly purple head shoved in, blue eye sparking with relief when they locked with his. "Vikkari!!" Aivu bellowed. She withdrew, but a moment later shoved her head back in the tent side closest to his bedroll.

"Hey, I'm gonna have to restake that now!" Woljif moaned, but the dragon ignored him.

She wriggled in far enough to nuzzle the side of Vikkari's face. "I'm glad you're awake! I was really worried and they wouldn't let me stay 'cause they said I'm too big!"

"You are too big," Vikkari said with a chuckle. Even that faint movement made his side twinge and he bit back a wince.

Aivu made a purring trill as she nuzzled a moment longer, the small cloud of butterflies increasing their circuit to include her, then bonked her head lightly against his shoulder. "You scared us!"

"Sorry...?" Vikkari mumbled, still trying to work out what he'd done.

"Don't tell me you forgot the gargantuan demon, chief," Woljif drawled--by way of a hint, he supposed.

He had, but the sardonic words nudged things into motion and it started coming back.

---

There wasn't much to be found here; the terrain too rocky and crisscrossed by dozens of ravines or crevasses. Not that the demonic forces seemed to care.

The derakni was massive-- twice as large again from normal. And unlike most of its ilk, it wielded a scythe, equally large and razor sharp. A few smaller demons, dretches and babaus, as well as cultist warriors, grouped around it as if waiting for orders. Or prey.

There was no attempt at bartering, no puffed-up banter. The locust demon gave an eager, guttural cry and launched itself at them.

Its minions scrambled to join in, but they were hardly a challenge. It was the aberration itself that posed the most danger. Frothing poison, wide swipes with its scythe, its droning wings beat against their sanity and its chitinous hide deflected their blows.

One of the cultists angled for Arueshalae and Lann and Seelah rushed to interpose herself, hands and blade both glowing with holy light. Her reckless charge protected the archers but left her open to the deranki.

Vikkari snapped off a spell in her defense, the orange rush of fire glancing off the demon's shoulder but fully catching its attention.

It hissed as it wheeled on him, too fast to react, the scythe piercing his side and slamming him to the ground. It used the weapon to reel him in, a wide, horrible grin splitting its face.

"Looks like the butterfly thinks it can play with the locusts," it sneered, free hand snapping up to extinguish one of the Elysian butterflies. Its grin widened as it peered at him. "Ah, Galfrey's pet butterfly, no l-"

It snarled as Aivu bit down on one of its back legs and kicked out to dislodge her.

Protective fury numbed the pain for long enough Vikkari channeled a burst of magic into the thing's face.

It howled and jerked the scythe in a harsh upward sweep. The hooked blade was deep enough in his side to fling Vikkari in the air before it tore free, and there wasn't much he could do beyond brace himself.

Landing was going to hurt.

---

"Locust-boy had a good arm," Woljif said with strained nonchalance, watching him process the memory. "Me an' Aivu took off on the path you got tossed while everyone else finished off tall, pissed, and bugly." He fiddled with a dagger, spinning the point in the dirt. "There was a minute or ten, weren't sure we'd find you," he admitted. "All those crevasses. Lots of places for you to slip outta sight."

"Well, clearly you did," Vikkari said, petting Aivu's head and neck.

"'Cause of them." Woljif flicked a hand up toward the circling, much diminished, kaleidoscope of ethereal butterflies. "Apparently they stick around even when you're, uh, out. And you were were really out."

"I thought you were dead!" Aivu interjected. "Only for a second, but it was really scary! Don't do that again!"

Vikkari patted her snout. "I'll do my best."

"So your dragon pal stayed with you, I ran back for the others, Sosiel and Seelah healed you up best they could, but we did just fight a bigass demon." Woljif shrugged, relief gleaming in his eyes despite the laidback façade. "The rest of us found a good spot to camp and set up while they rested. Also, Sos found that whatever-it-is in the wound an' wants to not be all shaky an' exhausted if he's gotta go digging it out."

"Yes, I'll appreciate that myself," Vikkari said dryly. Knowing what it--probably--was made it hurt more.

Woljif snorted a laugh. "I bet." His posture was much more relaxed. "Lann's keeping watch and your girlfriend's doin' her thing to camouflage the campsite from any other baddies that might be around."

Vikkari's neck warmed at the casual needling, but Woljif wasn't completely wrong, and it explained where Arueshalae was.

"Since I didn't have anything else to do, I got 'keep an eye on the chief and make sure he doesn't hurt himself if he wakes before the healers are ready to finish what they started' duty."

"Quite a mouthful of a title," Vikkari said lightly.

"Tell me about it," Woljif laughed. "But I don't mind."

The tent flaps parted and Sosiel leaned in with a smile. "I thought I heard voices. Good to see you awake, Commander."

"In large part thanks to you, as I understand it," Vikkari said. He could still see traces of weariness on his friend's face, but Sosiel didn't look ready to collapse from exhaustion at the moment. "Thank you."

"Of course," Sosiel nodded. "Though I didn't do it alone, Seelah was invaluable-"

"But Sosiel did the lion's share," Seelah interrupted to insist as she pushed past him into the tent. "Pulled you back right from the brink." She made shooing motions at the tiefling and the dragon. "Woljif, Aivu, out. There's not room for all of us, and we" --she gestured at Sosiel-- "gotta finish patching Vikkari up. You can bug him later."

Woljif didn't protest as he ducked out. "Unless someone else wants t' bug him first!" Aivu whined but also withdrew. Some of the butterflies went with her.

"It shouldn't take long to finish," Sosiel said, his smile now apologetic. "Just, with the battle..."

Vikkari waved off the the regretful tone. "I imagine there was a lot to fix." The derakni had flung him hard, and the fact he couldn't even remember hitting the ground meant it had likely been far from pleasant.

Seelah snorted a laugh, but the accompanying smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You could say that."

"Fortunately we were able to tend everything save the initial wound," Sosiel said. "It cracked if not fractured a rib, and I believe there's still a fragment of the scythe blade embedded, just needed to recover some energy before attempting... something to remove it."

"You don't have to justify it, Sosiel." Vikkari started to sit up until the cleric held up a warning finger. "I wouldn't want any of you burning yourselves out for me."

"Thank you, Commander." He and Seelah moved close, Sosiel kneeling and her plunking cross-legged by Vikkari's bedroll. Seelah reached for his hand and Vikkari sent her a quizzical look.

"I'm mostly moral support this time," she explained. "He had an idea, and from the sound of things, this is gonna hurt."

"Thanks for the warning," Vikkari deadpanned, gaze on Sosiel as he chanted a spell, one fist clenched.

A faint light briefly danced around the gauntlet he still wore on that hand, and then he held it out just over the wound. There was a jolt of blindingly sharp pain that had Vikkari biting back a curse and squeezing Seelah's hand hard enough to crush a more delicate one. She murmured what sounded like a prayer to Iomadae and the pain eased, but his grip stayed white-knuckle and the remaining butterflies swirled agitated circles in the air around them.

And a sharp-shiny something flew out of his side into Sosiel's waiting hand. "Ah, good, it was a fragment of the scythe."

"Good?" Vikkari managed between clenched teeth.

"Yes, because otherwise the spell wouldn't have worked and I would've had to dig something this size out of you." Sosiel held out the gauntleted hand, a glittering, bloodstained line of dark metal crossing the width of his palm. "I did not relish the thought of causing that level of prolonged pain, even in pursuit of healing." He set the gauntlet and weapon splinter aside, one hand now curling around his holy symbol and the other extended to the freshly bleeding wound in Vikkari's side.

There was nowhere near the same level of pain this time; the slight discomfort of bone realigning as the broken rib fixed itself, of flesh knitting back together. But then it was done, and the soothing warmth of magic retreated.

"There," Sosiel said, weariness more pronounced but smile still warm, "You should still rest tonight, as should we all, but everything is healed."

"Thank you," Vikkari said with a smile of his own. "Both of you." He gave Seelah's hand another squeeze, more grateful and less desperate. "For all your hard work."

"You're welcome." Sosiel checked the wound was fully healed and stood to leave. "I need to cast the protective wards before I turn in..."

"Just make sure you get some sleep," Seelah admonished, and he nodded as he departed.

"You look like you could use some yourself," Vikkari said as he shifted to a more comfortable position. Now that he was out of danger, he could lay in a way that didn't make his back and shoulders sore.

"You're not wrong," Seelah said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Broken bones have never been easy for me to mend, let alone a few in a row--"

"A few?" he echoed.

She sent him a you really wanna know? look. "Arm in two places, leg in three, few more ribs beyond the one from getting impaled, collarbone. Skull. Must've hit real hard." Her teasing laugh was a bit stilted. "Surprised you didn't leave a crater."

Vikkari's nose wrinkled. "That's... more than a few."

"Yeah. But we got it all fixed." She winked. "Good thing you're my best friend so you're worth."

He chuckled. As if you wouldn't do it for any of us. "Thank you, really."

"You'd do the same for me, and I know you were only its target 'cause you were watchin' my back."

"You'd do the same for me," Vikkari said, smiling as his mimicry earned him an eyeroll and light punch to the shoulder.

"In a heartbeat," Seelah said as she stretched, her gaze flicking to the tent entrance. "But you're right; I should go rest. Someone's gotta take your watch tonight-"

Vikkari opened his mouth to protest he could sit and watch the surroundings even if he was still recovering.

"-and I think you have another visitor," she finished with a grin as she pushed to her feet.

He took the hint to look and couldn't stop a smile at the familiar silhouette--horns, glittering red eyes, leathery wings folded close to her back as she lurked in the doorway.

"Iomadae's left pauldron, you're smitten," Seelah snickered, and Vikkari shrugged rather than argue, which made her laugh again. "I'm done with him, Arueshalae, he's all yours."

There was a small gasp of surprise and Arueshalae smiled shyly as she slipped into the tent after Seelah departed. "I didn't want to intrude..."

"You aren't," Vikkari assure her, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "I was just thanking her for her part in saving my life."

A worried--and adorable--little frown furrowed her brow for a moment, and Arueshalae headed for the spot Seelah had occupied with steps rapid yet somehow hesitant, her wings folded in close to manage the confines of the tent. "It was... terrifying," she whispered. There was no similar hesitance to the fervor with which she took his hand and squeezed, her fingers almost hot enough to burn. "You scared us."

"So I've heard from several sources." Vikkari squeezed her hand back, thumb running over her knuckles in an almost-caress.

"You scared me," she said softly, biting her lip.

"And I'm very sorry for that," he said just as softly. He tugged up his shirt to show the unblemished skin (despite the bloodstain marring the fabric). "But I'm alright now." He tried not to dwell on the litany of broken bones Seelah had reeled off as he caught Arueshalae's gaze and squeezed her hand again. It did make sense of how rattled all of them seemed, though. "I am, Arueshalae, I promise."

"You weren't." The words were so quiet he barely caught them. "You-" Arueshalae swallowed, her hot, delicate fingers briefly brushing his cheek. "It was so close, Vikkari. Your eyes were so dim--dark--and I hated it and it scared me so badly--" She caught a shuddering breath, gaze dropping to their linked hands. "And it's worse because I-I shouldn't..."

Vikkari's heart squeezed, seeing her so distressed. Yes, you should. "I am sorry I scared you, truly I am. I wish I could promise never to do it again. But I can't, not with the lives we lead, the goal we seek to accomplish. I promise to do my best, and" --he tipped her chin back up-- "my eyes will always shine for you, if I have any say in the matter."

She blushed ducked her head again, studying their hands, tracing an old whittling scar on his. "That's... Thank you. It's very sweet and I know it's the best you can promise." She continued tracing his knuckles, his palm. "You're always sweet, and so kind and... I was praying," she admitted abruptly.

He waited out the pause that followed.

"The whole time I was working to disguise the camp. Panicked, inarticulate little things." Arueshalae gave a small, shaky laugh, pressing both of her hands tight around his. "Desna, don't let him die. Or let him be alright, we still need him. For Seelah and Sosiel to have what they needed." She met his gaze, eyes shining with relief and unshed tears. "I'm... glad She listened, despite me being me."

"Of course She did," Vikkari said, softly, gently. "You're a good person, and you were asking for a good thing." He huffed a wry laugh. "Selfish as that may sound coming from me."

She shook her head. "No, it's-- We... the Crusade needs you."

"And you still have me," he promised, not entirely referring to the Crusade with his reassurance. He watched a teal butterfly alight on one of her horns and bit back a smile.

"I know," Arueshalae nodded. "I just needed to remind myself of that." She looked down at their hands, let one of hers slide away. "But I should let you rest now..."

Despite the implied intention, she didn't let go of his hand, barely loosening the rest of her grip.

Vikkari smiled, gave her hand another squeeze. He'd be lying to deny weariness setting in, but, "You can stay, if you want. I'd rather your company than be alone." He meant it, and her reluctance made him think she would prefer that as well.

The shy smile that bloomed across her face confirmed his suspicion. "Alright."

Their reluctance to release each other's hands made laying back down a bit tricky, but Vikkari managed. He shifted to his side so the angle wasn't a strain for either of them.

"Sweet dreams," Arueshalae whispered, and he drew her hand close to kiss her knuckles as he felt the exhaustion of the long day--and ordeal he'd been through--creeping up on him.

He dreams were very sweet, indeed.

But even sweeter was finding her still there come morning.

[ohlawsons]

hell will have to wait | 03. party fic collection for owlcatober 2021

summary: they're the crusade's best and brightest. sorta.

notes: act 1, no spoilers. also @ owlcat let us romance the big buff girls

...

They’re a ragtag bunch, a motley crew. “Crusaders” is, certainly, far from the first thing that comes to Vala’s mind as she watches, silent and curious, as most of her traveling companions join around one of the larger tables and share dinner and drinks.

Vala herself is seated at the bar, legs crossed, one elbow propped up on the bar beside her, sipping from a chipped glass at wine that, if she ignores the pungent aftertaste, she can pretend isn’t the cheapest swill she’s had in a very long time. They’ve all had a long day shoring up some defenses at the edge of the square, trying to maintain their hold on the few streets they’ve reclaimed from the demons.

She lets her eyes flutter shut and takes a long, slow breath, imagining that she’s surrounded by the scent of subtle, earthy potpourri — or incense, perhaps — rather than the stale odor of old ale, sweat, and something sharp that’s reminiscent of urine; she’s so very tired of such cramped, suffocating circumstances.

But the creaking of a barstool being pulled out beside her distracts her, and the sounds and smells and pounding headache that always seems to accompany the tavern return; Vala makes a show of rolling her eyes and taking a long sip of her wine, but turns to find Seelah beside her, leaning back onto the bar, giving a wide, easy smile in Vala’s direction. Her crass, aloof charade fades a bit, and she might deny it if pressed but she does like Seelah, even with all her senseless, boundless optimism and righteousness.

She isn’t sure that Seelah shares such a favorable opinion of her all the time — and Vala ignores the way disappointment presses in on her when she considers the fact — but it’s hardly obvious, with the bright way the paladin turns to her.

“You haven’t decided you’re too good for us now, have you?” Seelah asks, the words filled with a friendly challenge as she tilts her head to look at Vala. She doesn’t wait for an answer, and nods towards the table where the rest of the group is gathered — Lann, seated at the edge of the table with a measured, thoughtful expression; Woljif, perched halfway on his chair as he recounts what is a likely highly embellished story; Ember, at the head of the table, wide-eyed at Woljif’s tale, the roll in her hands forgotten as she’s captivated by the tiefling’s performance; Anevia, interrupting with the occasional comment or laughter; Camellia, sipping at her drink and watching, one brow raised, with a bored, inscrutable expression — and Seelah says, voice a little quieter, “No one else will admit to it, but that empty seat’s for you, if you feel like joining us.”

Seelah’s always quick to volunteer herself — for better or for worse, this Vala knows; she knows, too, that she isn’t speaking the entire truth. Camellia, certainly, has no desire for Vala’s presence, but the rest of the group would readily invite her to the table. But she plays along, arching one brow and giving Seelah the most imperious look she can muster. “And how, then, should I maintain my air of superiority if I join the commonfolk?”

The paladin laughs at that, loud and rich, head thrown back, and something stirs within Vala; fuck but she’s beautiful, Seelah is, and Vala knows her mask of indifference slips as her gaze traces Seelah’s form, the curve of her jaw, the bright spark in her eyes as she turns back to her. It’s not often that Vala feels inadequate, but standing here next to Seelah…

“Now you just sound like Camellia. Or Daeran,” Seelah adds, still fighting off laughter.

At the mention of Daeran, Vala lets out a low hmm, no longer concerned about hiding her interest; she’d made a blatant pass at him when they’d first met, after all. “And where is our dear Count Arendae, I wonder?”

If there’s any awkwardness between them at Vala’s sudden shift in tone, Seelah hides it well. “Probably up in his room,” she remarks with a shrug, “drinking the only good booze in this place.”

Vala gives a deliberately thoughtful frown, her brow furrowed as her long nails tap rhythmically against her wine glass; it can’t be toodifficult to sneak off with some of Daeran’s expensive alcohol, given the right distraction. “Someone should do something about that.”

“I know what you’re getting at, and I really shouldn’t encourage it.”

“But neither are you going to stop me.” With a sharp, pointed look that’s as challenging as it is teasing, Vala downs the rest of her sub-par wine and sets the glass on the bar; she gives Seelah a wide, lingering grin before turning to the rowdy table nearby. “Woljif,” she calls, her mischievous grin only growing at the bright, eager look that immediately burns in the young tiefling’s eyes, “I’ve had an idea, and I need your help.”