#the thing on its brow is where horns would start. all dragons usually have them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

owillofthewisps · 5 years ago

Text

unspoken

notes: shout-out to tumblr for not being functional - this was originally a response to an ask from an anon asking for eskel smut! hi anon!! i hope this was what you wanted/is something you find sexy!

i feel like you weren’t quite looking for 5k of smuff (smutty fluff) but it’s uh. what you’re getting. sorry about that. and i could have written a whole nother scene. that’s probably show up down the line.

i’ve never written eskel before and hooo it shows. sorry anon!!

pairing: eskel/fem reader

rating: explicit (warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), brief handjob, slight overstimulation, some self-esteem issues referenced/briefly mentioned. i think that’s it.)

word count: 5.3k one day, you think, Eskel will be able to hear the words you’re already saying.

You hear the galloping hoof beats too late.

They’ve been obscured by the churning rhyme you’re humming, the slow, steady song of home.

“Lil’ Bleater, no!” Eskel calls, his deep voice edged with a hint of panic. From the sound of him, his rambunctious goat has left him behind in a quick burst of speed. She’s a nimble little thing, you know, liable to dance around the broad Witcher as he tries to corral her.

There’s no time to turn, and you shriek with laughter as the small goat butts against the back of your knees. Her horns catch in your skirts for a moment, tangling like river reeds caught in the current. It sends you stumbling forward. You catch yourself against the heavy churn, still giggling despite the small sting of her horns, blunt though they are.

“I thought we were friends, little thief,” you tell Lil’ Bleater, who merely bleats at you around the mouthful of verdant green alfalfa sprouts she’s knocked from the pocket of your apron.

“Lil’ Bleater!” Eskel says, practically tumbling into the lean-to in his rush. The goat prances away, eyeing him warily as she continues to munch on her prize. “Don’t you - oh.”

“Well met, Eskel,” you say, turning to face him with a soft smile. You wipe at your brow with the back of your hand, knowing that you are likely shining with sweat from the heavy work of churning. “You were right, I shouldn’t have let her know I have alfalfa in my pockets.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, not meeting your eyes. You wish he would. You so often yearn for the sunlight of his gaze, the way his amber eyes go soft for you, like butter melting. His fingers flex. He scrubs a hand over his face, and you know his scars are pulsing. They’re vivid against his skin. It reminds you of the meadow near your birthplace, where the sorrel grew wild, leaves streaked with crimson veins. They are terrible scars, you know, but there is beauty in them too.

“Are you hurt?”

“Just a little sore,” you say. It’s a soft kiss of pain, something summery in it, the ache of slipping from a tree branch when you’ve climbed just a bit higher than you should have.

Eskel shifts, and you know the slight hunch of his shoulders. Before Eskel, you never thought a Witcher could look so small. You shake your skirts loose from their tangle and cross to him. His large hands flex, rising slightly as if to touch, and then he drops them back to his side. You catch your sigh between your teeth and swallow it down.

The Path takes him from you often, and you bear him no grudge for it, but sometimes he returns to you with unsure hands, as if he worries that you will fade away like a dream should he touch. It is still new, though, this thing between the two of you, a sprout unfolding into a stem, stretching closer to the sky. You are not patient, but for him, you will be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he sounds oddly helpless. “You’re sure you aren’t harmed?”

You trace a hand over the bulk of his shoulder. It’s a light touch, a gentle summer breeze ruffling through the wildflowers, slipping over their petals like silk, and something in him eases.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you say airily. “I’m hardier than you think. Though Lil’ Bleater may need to apologize to the chickens for stealing their treat.”

“I’ll get you more.”

You raise a brow. “I’ve a whole field of it,” you point out. “Besides, if you truly wish to make amends when none are needed, you can greet me with the kiss I’d like to have.”

That finally draws his gaze to you. In the light filtering into the lean-to, his eyes gleam amber, translucent like summer honey. His eyes always leave you greedy, feeling gold-drunk, a dragon coiled around her hoard.

“Only if you’d like,” you remind him, because you will take nothing that he does not wish to give.

Eskel cups your face in his large hands, draws you close, and drinks from your lips. You hum into the kiss, your eyes fluttering closed. His fingers gain surety, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over the sweep of your cheekbone, and you drape your arms around his neck. He’s so broad against you, steady and grounding, an ancient oak firmly rooted. You tease a sharp breath out of him with your tongue. ��

When you pull back, his eyes have darkened to the golden glow of a mostly-set sun. His hands slip to your waist, his fingers tight on the plush curve of your hips.

“I missed you,” you admit boldly. Sya often tells you that you have a brazen tongue. You aren’t quite sure of that, but you know you tend towards bluntness. A hammer instead of a blade, Sya tells you.

Eskel makes a soft noise that you can’t quite place. He slides the tips of his fingers into the small gap between your skirts and your bodice, his amber eyes tracing over you. You refuse to be embarrassed. It’s true, after all, and you will tell him until it is not. But you do not think it will ever be untrue.

He pulls you in for another kiss, and this time, you can sense the teeth in him. The hunger. Eskel kisses you breathless, the pads of his fingers slipping higher on your bare skin. He kisses you until the world fades around you, until it feels quiet despite the chirp of the birds and the rustle of the breeze.

You press closer still, tangling your fingers into his mahogany hair. He rumbles out a noise that arrows through you. You can feel his hand trailing up the ladder of your spine, leaving a blazing trail of heat behind it. Your bodice loosens as he tugs at the laces. The sweetly embroidered neckline dips low, catching on the thin fabric of the chemise, and you pull in a tight breath.

“Eskel,” you murmur. He dips his head to your neck, his breath whirling warm over your skin, and then - Lil’ Bleater makes herself known with a bleat and a headbutt. She mouths at your apron, trying to pull the pocket open for more alfalfa.

“Lil’ Bleater!” Eskel hisses as you laugh into his shoulder. He leans down as she butts against you again with another faint cry, dismayed to find your pocket ransacked and empty. She turns her attention to him, butting against his large hands, and even though Eskel is swearing under his breath, he is gentle as he shoos her away.

The goat squawks her displeasure and flounces out of the lean-to. You’ve no doubt that she’ll take her revenge against the rolling hills of your herb garden, particularly the large stalks of sweet fennel she favors, often gnawing them down to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel says, looking sheepish, but at least there’s a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

You press a kiss against the skin peeking over the neckline of his shirt. He’d shed his armor before coming to find you, clearly, and you hope he went into the cottage this time instead of leaving them outside, too polite to enter without you there to let him in. “It’s for the best,” you say with a low laugh. You nip at his skin, taste the salt of him. “Been a while since I’ve been tumbled in the hay.”

“A shame, that,” he says, and you are glad to hear the tease of it, to hear him start settling back into familiarity. His fingers trail low on your hips as you step out of his grasp. You catch his hand as it falls, wind your fingers between his thick ones like tendrils on a trellis. He makes a perplexed little noise, almost too quiet to be heard, and you glance back at him.

Eskel is sun-drenched, the light streaming through the window to bathe him, to swallow him in its incandescent touch. His deep brown hair gleams dark under the light’s touch, a shadow of a crown, and sometimes you think you will never have words for the color of his eyes. They are too many things at once: the soft shimmer of coin glinting in low tavern light, the glory of a sun peeking over the horizon, the golden drip of a noblewoman’s necklace. He shares them with other Witchers, you suppose, but you think you would find his different still, a treasure all your own.

Many women would not call him handsome, you know, too distracted by the scars carving canyons across his face. It is not something you understand.

You find Eskel attractive always, but like this, touched by light, gilded by the sun, he is something else. Your breath catches in your throat.

Eskel doesn’t seem to notice, his golden eyes fixed on where your fingers twine around his. You realize then. The breath caught in you grows thicker, and you ache for this man.

You tighten your grip on his hand. When his eyes flit up to you, a darting little glance that reminds you of the nimble flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, you smile, soft and slow.

“Come,” you say. “As I said - I’ve missed you.”

His fingers tighten around yours, and then he follows you out into the warmth of the afternoon.

The short walk to your cottage takes longer than usual, the two of you swept up into each other’s current more and more, like shells caught spinning in the ocean’s waves. Eskel kisses the breath from you, pinning you against your front door, his knee between your thighs, tugging you close until your clothed cunt drags across the length of his muscled thigh, until you can feel the hard length of him against your hip.

You fumble with the latch as he palms your breast, slipping his large hand down the front of your chemise. He kneads at the flesh as he mouths at your neck, scraping his teeth against the column of your throat. You whimper as he strokes a thumb over your nipple until it pebbles, the barest hint of lightning starting to flicker down your spine, like a summer storm still sparking on the horizon.

The door unlatches, and you yelp as you go stumbling backwards. Eskel moves like water, his large form impossibly fluid, hooking an arm around your waist and steadying you.

“Careful now,” he says lowly, a grin flickering at the edges of his lips like hearthfire.

You swat at him, but lean up to kiss him with a laugh as he sets you back on your feet. He nudges the door shut and pulls you back to him. You’ve never known a man so steady. There are moments where he reminds you of the stalwart rocks of the coast, unmoving despite the ocean’s howling waves, standing firm against the water’s pull. Instead, though, he is more the tide, sweeping into your life and then out again, an ebb and flow always.

“Stop thinking,” Eskel says softly, and promptly kisses the thoughts right out of your head. You clutch at him in the haze of it. He enfolds your senses like fog, the taste of him sweet on your tongue, the prick of his teeth catching on your lower lip spreading through you. It’s the heat of his hand that brings you back to yourself, his large hand slipping under your skirt and between your thighs to cup your cunt.

“Fuck,” Eskel groans, because you’re already wet enough to soak through your smallclothes, the cloth clinging to your cunt as he presses up against you until your hips jolt forward, chasing the friction of his palm. You grasp at his hair as he ducks his head to suck at your nipple, mindless of the barrier of your chemise, his mouth closing wet and hot around the stiff peak. His cheeks hollow slightly, and you can feel the rasp of his stubble. The sensation arcs through you, spitting sparks like forgefire.

You wind your fingers into his thick hair and pull him tight against you with a quiet moan. Eskel rocks his palm against your cunt, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. You clench, feeling your cunt pulse around nothing. “Off,” you say, tugging at his shirt, deeply grateful that he’d shed his jerkin earlier. You catch at the hem, start to lift it as best you can with him curved around you like a fern.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he tightens them around your nipple, his tongue tracing over the pebbled furl of it. He pulls back and the damp fabric goes chill without the warmth of his mouth. Gooseflesh rolls over you like a fogbank, skittering across your skin.

“Impatient,” he chides.

“Always,” you huff, because you have long demanded satisfaction in all aspects of life, and have long learned that sometimes you must push to get it. You shrug out of your loosened bodice, let it slip down you like a water drop slides across a leaf. Eskel pulls back to undress, his hand dragging across the length of your cunt, but you have greedy hands, and you don’t let him go far, slip your hands up the loose fabric. Your fingers skate against the defined planes of his stomach. The muscles jump beneath your fingertips, rippling, your touch a stone skipped over their surface.

Eskel’s thick fingers slip into the ties of your skirts. They give with one quick tug, puddling around your feet. You step out of the froth of them and into his arms, catching the hem of his chemise once more, urging it up until he finally strips it off.

He’s a sight, all coiled muscle, scars scattered across his torso like constellations. You corral him back towards your bed until he’s laid out on your linens, sprawled out like a feast.

You peel off your chemise and let it drop to the floor. Eskel pulls in a sharp breath, the sound like whistling wind. Heat rises into your cheeks as he gazes up at you with something perilously close to reverence, a supplicant at your altar.

“Beautiful,” he tells you, and you feel the same, gazing down at him, at the glow of his eyes and the carved sculpture of his body, and mostly - the tilt of his lips into something soft and sweet. You know better now, though, than to speak your thoughts aloud, at least for now. It turns something in him to stone.

“Oh?” you say instead, crawling over him and settling on the washboard of his abs, your wet smallclothes sticking to skin. “I think you’re too kind, good sir.”

“Nay,” Eskel says, and though he’s playing along, there’s a quiet solemnity glinting in his eyes. His scars burn bright against his skin, and gods, he is so lovely it makes something in you twist. “I only settle for beautiful as there are no adequate words.”

That shakes you. Oh, you think. Oh. You hide your fluster in his skin, leaning down to sink your teeth into the thick pillar of his neck. Eskel groans, his immense hands coming up to bracket your hips, and you push forward to suck marks into his tanned skin, to ruddy his skin like red wine lingering on lips. One hand slips down to palm your ass roughly, his blunt fingers squeezing and kneading. He rocks you forward with his grip, lets your cunt slide against the ridges of his muscled stomach.

The gasp spills from you like wine, and Eskel drinks it from your lips as he pulls your soaked smallclothes to the side. He swipes his thumb over your clit, sends sparks skipping through you, the pleasure going from strikepoint to strikepoint, lightning caught in your skin. He circles your hole with a blunt fingertip, teasing against the sensitive, wet silk of your skin, and you catch his lips once more as he sinks a thick finger into you.

You can’t muffle the whimper, and he moans against your lips at the sound of it, your voice thickened to slow honey. Your cunt pulses. Eskel kisses the curse off your tongue as he starts to thrust, each slide of his fingers rolling you against his hard muscles until you’re keening. The pressure of his abs against your clit makes you tremble, and then he sinks another finger into you, and then a third. You spasm around the fullness, dropping your head onto his chest to pant against him.

There’s sweat gleaming on your skin as you push back against Eskel’s fingers, driving them deeper in the clutch of your cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He scrapes his teeth against the ridge of your shoulder. He pulls you down against him, your breasts soft against the hard plane of his chest, and the change in position grinds his fingers against a spot in your cunt that makes lightning arc up your spine. You clench, dripping around his fingers spreading you wide.

“That’s it,” Eskel says again, his voice silk rasping against stone. “So pretty, sweetling.”

He twists his fingers in the way you like, deft despite the size of them, and his other hand drops down to slip against the slick of your clit. White heat streak through you, pleasure like a falling star in the sky of your body, plummeting through you to burn hot in your cunt.

Your voice breaks on Eskel’s name as you shake apart on top of him. He pets at your back as you tremble against him, slowing the thrust of his fingers as you pant. Vaguely, beneath the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering sweet things to you.

He pulls his fingers from you. It sends steel-edged pleasure cutting through you.

You can feel the heat of his cock radiating against your inner thigh. Eskel catches your wrist as you start to reach for him, wanting to feel the weight of his cock in the palm of your hand, to feel the velvet drag of his skin against yours.

“Not yet,” he tells you, and he tilts you off of him with a shift of his powerful hips.

The yelp spills from you as you topple over onto the mattress with a small bounce. Eskel rolls over on top of you, cages you in. The corner of his lips is soft with a secret, and you squirm beneath the silk of his eyes, the way they trace over your features as if you are art.

“I want your cock,” you say, at the edge of a whine.

Eskel grunts at that, his eyes going dark. “I want to see you cum again,” he tells you, and then his mahogany hair is brushing against your collarbone as he ducks lower, pressing a biting kiss between your breasts, his mouth hot and sharp with pleasure against your skin. He licks and kisses his way down your stomach before setting his teeth against your hip bone, finally peeling away your sopping smallclothes. Your nerves buzz under your skin.

“Eskel,” you sigh, and he dips his mouth to your cunt. His stubble scrapes across the delicate skin of your inner thighs. He shifts your legs wider with a nudge, the barest hint of the strength that lies just beneath the sweetness of him. The flat of his tongue sweeps through your soaked folds and you grab at his hair without thinking. The sizzle of sensation is sharp-toothed, digs into your bones, and when you buck, you can’t quite tell if you’re pushing forward or pulling back.

He swings a heavy arm over your hips, presses you down like a flower between the pages of a book. You know you cannot move him with anything but your words. He peers up at you over the curve of your stomach and the swell of your breasts. “Okay?” he asks, and his lips are reddened and shining in the sunlight leaking through your shutters.

“Yes,” you gasp, because you have never shied from keen edges.

You can feel him smile against the wet of you. He leans back down and then his mouth is tight around your clit, until the pleasure cuts into the marrow of you. Eskel works you with his talented mouth, licks and sucks at you like summer fruit, the smallest hint of teeth gentle against your cunt. You jerk against the anchor of his arm, hips thrusting up as you toss your head back, sweat slicking the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Please,” you babble, fingers fisting tight in his hair. “Eskel, Eskel, please.”

He hums against your dripping folds, and the way it resonates through you makes you think of how you’ve imagined the snap of magic against your skin, prickling and intoxicating. Your skin feels too small. The sensation of Eskel lapping at you, one thick finger deep in your cunt, rides the knife’s edge, half-pain, half-pleasure. He closes his mouth around your clit and sucks, hollowing his cheeks, and it snaps through you.

“Fuck!”

Your trembling thighs clamp around Eskel’s head as you cum, back arching as much as you can beneath his firm arm over your hips. He lets you ride your orgasm out, still gently licking at you, just enough to keep the sparks rolling over your spine.

He kisses the junction of your hip and thigh as you calm.

“Gods,” you gasp. “You are a menace.”

Eskel laughs into your skin, low and sweet.

“Come here,” you demand.

“Impatient.”

“Always.”

He slinks up your form. You lean up to catch his lips, taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. You cradle the back of his head as he sighs into the kiss. Some part of you wonders if all Witchers are soft at the core of them, or if it’s just Eskel, kind, giving Eskel, who thinks he has little to offer based on the map of scars scrawled across his face.

His cock is heavy in your palm, all hot, silken skin. You stroke the length of him, relearn the heft and girth of him. Eskel moans into your kiss, his voice a deep rumble of noise. You huff a laugh against his lips, delighted at the noise, and twist your hand before thumbing at the head of his cock, smearing the wetness there down his length.

You trace your tongue over the pulsepoint in his neck, feel the slow, lazy river current of his heartbeat. His cock twitches in your grip. You feather your fingertips under the ridge of the head before dragging your thumb against the same spot, relishing the soft hiss that flows from Eskel’s reddened lips.

“You’re so good,” you dare to say, giving a quick upward stroke.

Eskel moans, his thighs trembling.

“Look at you,” you murmur, pressing your lips against the blade of his collarbone. He stiffens, just slightly, and you catch yourself, change the words before they leave you. “Always make me feel so good,” you say, and his shoulders unwind, the muscles of them shifting.

You would like him to weigh heavy on your tongue, close your lips around the thickness of his cock, to gaze up at him from under your lashes until he gushes hot into your mouth. Eskel shies from it, though, and you are wary of pushing him too hard. You know that your bold mouth sometimes hammers where delicacy is needed.

You can feel his abs flexing against your knuckles each time you drag your hand up the length of his cock. When you nudge at him, Eskel sits back on his knees. His amber eyes gleam gemlike in the light, and you are again struck by the beauty of him, the strong sculpture of his features.

Eskel’s brow knits as you push to your knees as well, your legs quivering like a newborn fawn. “Are you sure?” he asks

You drape yourself over him like a silken cloak, settling just over his hips. “Yes,” you say, guiding his cock to your cunt. “I told you - I want your cock. I rarely change my mind.”

The way the head of his cock spreads you knocks the breath from your lungs. Your nerves sing with starsong, something bright and vast trickling through you, crackling just under your skin. Eskel steadies you as you sink down on him, as he splits you around his cock. He gazes up at you with his sungold eyes, so stark against the deep brown of his dark hair, and you think of how the sun gives life, how it shines on others to nourish them.

He closes his eyes as you lean down to press your forehead against his. His lips part slightly, and you drag your thumb over the curve of them. Eskel turns just enough to press a kiss against your palm. Your stomach twists with something you can’t quite think about as you are filled with him, as your cunt flutters around his cock.

“Eskel,” you say quietly, softly sweet, but you lose the rest of your words as he kisses you, his mouth fervent and consuming.

You shift your hips. His cock drags against your walls, warms your veins with that biting pleasure, and his hands tighten on your hips. You remember the girth of him well, but the memories pale compared to the feel of him spearing deep, until it feels like there is nothing but him. His cock pulses as you flutter around him, clenching down tight on the weight of his cock.

“Please,” you breathe, catching his lips in a kiss, rising onto your knees until just his tip is caught in your hole, the thick head stretching you wide. You drop back down onto his cock and you are already trembling. Lightning crackles beneath your skin. Eskel huffs a breath as you tighten around him, your cunt velvet around his length.

You lean forward and press your face into the junction of his shoulder and neck. The rhythm of your hips is a slow current, rising and falling like the ocean tide. Your breath is shaky against Eskel’s sweat-slick skin. His hand nestles into the hair at the nape of your neck, and he guides you back up so that you are looking down at him, a witness to his worship.

“Eskel.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, gazing up at you as if you are the stars, something vast and unknowable above him. His fingers tighten on your hips, the pads of them digging into the plush flesh, and with a flash of that intense strength, he moves you.

Eskel rocks up into you, fucks up hard into the clench of your cunt. His hips are steady with each hard push. He feels immense, as if you are molten metal in his forge of his desire, his to mold and reshape. You can feel each throb of his cock, feel him swell inside you. Hazily, beneath the fog of it all, you think that Eskel will always be under your skin, will line the edges of you for the rest of your life.

You set your teeth against the salt of his skin, some part of you desperate to see that you sink as deeply into his skin as he has into yours. He grits out a moan. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you down into his thrusts, rolling his hips to catch the head of his cock on the spot deep inside your cunt that slides a knife of pleasure through you.

“So good,” you mumble breathily against him, tightening around him with each push of his hips. “Gods, Eskel, please.”

He whispers something you can’t quite hear, and then his hand is slipping between you both. You sob as he draws a tight circle over your clit, your nerves singed beneath the heat of his touch. Eskel presses a soft kiss against your lips as you clench viciously around him, the velvet of your cunt unrelenting, and you shatter.

“Fuck,” Eskel hisses, and underneath the lightning strike of your own consuming pleasure, you can feel the way his abs tighten against you. He pulses inside of you, each twitch of his cock searing through you. He spills hot and thick in you, your cunt fluttering around him, his thighs tense beneath you. His groan is long and heated, a bonfire of sound.

He catches your face in his hands, pulls you into a heated, messy kiss. There are little strikes of lightning still flickering across your skin. Eskel is throbbing in you, small spurts of cum still spilling into your cunt. The coiled muscles of his thighs flex and quiver beneath you.

The two of you spend a moment just breathing. He brushes his fingers against your jaw, his touch delicate.

“Menace,” you tell him, voice soft.

Eskel pulls you into another kiss to hide his smile.

It’s easy to get lost in him, to be carried off in the steady kindness of him. He kisses you sweetly, the corner of his mouth soft with something secret. You groan when he pulls out of you, the blade of sensation a true cut now.

Eskel coaxes you to curl up on the bed. He rises, and you only have enough energy to voice a wordless complaint, trying to catch him by the wrist and pull him back to you.

“Just a moment, sweetling,” he says, but you can hear the laugh lining his voice. You crack an eye open to glare at him.

You’d thought he would know, considering his enhanced senses, but you don’t think he’s expecting your gaze, considering the look on his face. Eskel is perhaps the most reverent lover you’ve had, but softness painted across his visage as he peers down at you steals your breath away. It’s something gossamer, a thin, shining spider’s thread woven into an intricate web of emotion that Witchers aren’t meant to feel.

He doesn’t seem to realize it, though, that he is laid bare to you for just a breath, and you close your eyes as he turns away. He returns to the bed with a cloth and you wipe each other as clean as you can.

You collapse back onto the bed, already aching, and peer up at him. Eskel slips into the bed and curls around you. His scars shine red in the afternoon light, and he is beautiful. You hope that one day, you can tell him that. But today, you cannot, so you simply say: “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Eskel says, his voice petal-soft.

You drowse in the patch of sunlight illuminating your bed, your fingers tracing soft circles on Eskel’s skin, feeling contentment settle over you like a blanket. It is quiet, and sweet, and in the silence of affection, the two of you are united.

At least until Lil’ Bleater expresses her annoyance with the front door being closed with a series of particularly loud bleats.

All you can do is laugh.

taglist: @witchernonsense @hina-chans-stuff @whitewolfandthefox @raspberrydreamclouds @riviawitch3r @tutuwho @restingnurseface @ambivertomnivore

#eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #nsft

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pixelwisp-archive · 4 years ago

Note

i want more orimakki 😩 !!! pls answer these q's i rly wanna know 🥺

Flora I love you so MUCH oh my god thank you for feeding me TT-TT (also I'm ABSOLUTELY SENDING THIS BACK FOR YOU AND OSAMU I WANNA KNOWWWW)

I’m gonna answer these Interview style because it sounds fun to do and because I can😌

This ended up taking me SO long because, per usual, I got way too carried away lmao I'm so sorry

Makki is blue and I'm orange! (Interviewer is red lmao)

1. Who loves flower crowns more?

“Ori, for sure”

“I’m bad at making them though, so I make Hiro make them for me”

Makki looks at her like😒 and she laughs - he bites back a smile.

2. Who is the one who likes to cuddle?

"Hiro, for sure - I get a little weird about physical affection"

"She hates me"

"That's not true bub, you're just so hot"

"Thanks babe, I think you're pretty cute too"

Ori rolls her eyes and elbows him. "Next question"

3. Who has awful taste in music?

*simultaneously* "Hiro" "Me"

4. Who is the meme lover?

"I run a relatively popular account on instagram"

"I wake up every day to at least 30 new memes that he's spammed my phone with"

5. How did their second date go?

Ori starts laughing as Makki groans.

"He tried to take me to a park for a picnic-"

"Listen it would have been romantic but there was this fucking-"

"raccoon coming to grab our food-"

"and of course Ori is a dumbass ("HEY") and was ready to pet the literal wild animal ("he was so cute :(") so I tried to like shoo it away but-"

"It bit him and we ended up just sharing a cheese stick in the hospital"

"It was a disaster, to say the least"

"It's still one of my favorite dates, though"

"You just like seeing me in pain"

Ori laughs. "Not True!"

6. How many children do they want/have?

"17"

"absolutely not"

"we've talked about having two, maybe three"

"with a couple years in between. Gotta make sure they bully each other. It's important for character growth"

"We'll be sure to bully the oldest so they're not a weirdo like their mom"

Ori nods in agreement.

7. Who hides the weapons?

"I have a knife collection, does that count? I keep them in a display case on the wall"

8. Who is the better dancer?

Makki laughs. "Oh, me for sure"

"YOU?"

"Have you seen your dancing babe?"

"Have you seen YOUR dancing? What the hell is this?" *imitates this god awful windmill move*

"...okay, valid. We're both bad."

9. Do/Did they have a theme wedding?

"We're not married, marriage is for chumps."

Makki sighs. "We're not married *yet*."

"Gross, tryna tie me down stinky?"

"Been trying for years, bub"

Ori blushes, and looks away to hide her smile.

"...maybe"

Makki grins and leans in. "What?"

"I said maybe. I just-"

"I know, baby. Maybe is all I need."

10. What do their parents think of them dating?

"My parents are in love with Ori."

"My parents love him too!"

"Even your dads?"

"Yeah, my dads love you"

"Your step dad doesn't seem to like me much"

Ori furrows her brows. "which one?"

"I'm sorry, did you say 'which one?'"

"Oh, sorry. I have three dads. My mom, my dad, and then their husbands"

"I don't know, your mom's husband doesn't seem like he's warmed up to me"

"It took him years to even warm up to me. He shared his pot roast recipe with you, remember? that was his seal of approval"

Ori giggles while Makki looks at her suspiciously but eventually mumbles "if you say so"

11. Are they a super sappy couple?

"She clowns the shit out of me whenever I try"

Ori laughs. "I'm sorry I just don't know how to act when I'm embarrassed"

"I'm trying to woo you, not embarrass you, you jackass"

"*woo* me?!" Ori cackles

"I don't know why I even try"

(She goes up to him later, and takes his face in her hands, her demeanor more serious than before

"Hey, bub. You know I don't mean *you* embarrass me right? I just get awkward about affection"

He sighs and nuzzles into her palm

"I know you didn't, it's ok. I just love you too much sometimes, and its hard to reel it in"

"I love you too. So so much"

"I am gonna ask you to marry me someday. You know that?"

"I know, and my simp ass is gonna say yes. How gross is that"

Makki rolls his eyes, a smile on his face

"So gross")

12. How did they get together?

"We danced around each other for like 2 years"

"it was painful"

"Iwaizumi finally beat the confidence into me enough to kiss her"

"I don't know that you ever actually asked me out"

"Really? Oh, well then, wanna date?"

"Nah, you're a little weird"

"Damn ok, guess I'll call Mattsun" Ori laughs

13. Who asked the other to get married?

*more gagging noises while Makki sighs*

"It'll be me, clearly"

14. Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes?

"Hiro. 100%"

"Hey, you stay up late too!"

"I know, but my jokes are always funny"

"rude"

15. Who is the nerd?

"Oh my god it's Ori"

"Hey, I converted you, fellow nerd. plus, you have a knife collection - if that's not nerd shit idk what is"

"touché"

16. Who knows the most obscure facts?

"Hiro"

"Did you know that penguins have knees?"

"I do now"

17. Who makes the other a flower crown?

"Hiro! His fingers are better suited for the weaving, I have weirdly small hands"

"Hey, I like your hands"

"Awh, babe<3"

18. Who likes to read?

"I do! If I'm not reading a physical book I'm always reading something on my phone!"

19. Who bothers the other person while the other person reads?

Makki grins, pointing to himself while Ori shoots him a playful glare

20. Who tutors the other?

"Hiro is actually wicked smart. He an invaluable study buddy"

"Ori is the definition of a bimbo"

"Nah I'm the shebo, I'm not hot enough to make bimbo status"

"Excuse me? Consensus says you are both very hot AND definitely belonging in the bimbo category"

"Consensus? What consensus"

Makki smiles, a little too innocently. "Group Chat"

"Oh my god"

21. Do they have similar taste in movies?

"Ori enjoys literally everything so it's really easy to find common ground"

"We change it up a lot, but we're usually end up with either a horror movie or we binge an anime"

22. How do their personalities compliment each other?

"We're both fucking weirdos"

"Yeah, and Hiro's calm complements my loud - he grounds me when I need it"

"goes both ways - I get loud too. Feelings are loud sometimes and that's ok"

Ori snorts. "Ok, dr.phil"

23. How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon?

"Is like, texting them an option?"

"We'll take em' out for breadsticks or something"

"Oh lets have them open up like a lil onesie, our moms would die"

Ori laughs "What's it gonna say on it"

"'You're both grandmas now. Congrats, you old bitches'"

Ori wheezes, folding in on herself in her seat

"That's so fucking stupid, we are absolutely doing that"

24. Who has better fashion sense?

"Look at us. Look at how we're dressed"

"There are holes in my shirt"

"and that's his nice shirt"

"In my defense, it had holes when I bought it"

"So holes are fashionable now?"

"Apparently"

"Hobo chic"

25. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

"Ori is a doormat-"

"RUDE"

"-Lemme finish babe - until it comes to her people. If someone's rude to me she is ready to throw hands in seconds flat"

"damn straight...would you fight for me?"

"Of course. you think I wouldn't?"

"Just making sure<3"

26. What songs do they sing together in the vehicle?

"EVERYTHING"

27. What other couple would your otp get along with?

Ori perks up "Flora and Osamu!!! I love the both of them so much, they're so cute together too"

"They're great people, plus Osamu gives us free food and honestly, what else do you need in a friend"

Ori slaps Makki's shoulder "Stop acting like you only like Osamu for his cooking"

"I'm only kidding!"

28. Who likes to prank the other?

"Ori does this thing where she'll do something nice for me and then go "get pranked!" when I notice"

"I do indeed do that"

"I am not kind. Sometimes I'll just, buy an air horn. And press it. while she's asleep."

Ori glares at Makki

"he does indeed do that"

29. Who is the one who loves to take pictures?

"I do"

"He's alwaysss taking pictures, but I hate getting my picture taken and he's super respectful of that"

"...yeah"

(Later, when Ori's stepped out for a minute

"I do take pics of her. She doesn't know it but I do"

Makki starts to show off an album full of candids of Ori

Makki sighs, a soft smile on his face "She's so pretty"

"Don't tell her about this please, she'll murder me")

30. How would they react if they found out they were soul mates?

"Oof"

"That's what you'd say? Oof?"

"It's an oof for you. stuck? with me? forever?"

"you doofus, there's no one else I'd rather have"

"you little fucker, you're gonna make me cry"

makki laughs and squeezes her hand "love you stinky"

Ori sniffles "Yeah I love you too I guess"

31. Where would they live?

"right now we live in an apartment in Osaka-"

"but eventually we wanna by a house. We're thinking of going back home to Miyagi"

"We miss the small town atmosphere"

32. What type of dragon would they own, if they could have one?

"oh my god, a little shoulder dragon would be so cute"

"ok but imagine how much money we'd save with something we could ride to work"

"shit, you're so right"

33. If they were both vampires, what type of vampires would they be?

"There are types of vampires?" looks to Makki, Makki shrugs

"Is dying an option?"

34. What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

"we do themed couple ones but like, not sexy ones"

"yeah, like for instance our friends went as a fireman and his girl was a dalmation, and we were-"

"bob ross and his panting!"

"...she was bob ross"

"this year I'm trying to get him to dress as mothman so I can dress up as a lamp"

35. Can they name each other’s favourite food?

"Ori loves chicken to the point where it's almost concerning"

"Hiro likes cream puffs"

"No no, they're Profiteroles"

"they're the same thing babe"

"but profiteroles sound so much fancier"

36. Do they have pet names for one another?

"The usual"

"Babe, baby-"

"stinky, fuckass-"

"bubs-"

"doofus, dumbass, nerd"

"nothing crazy"

37. How do they cheer each other up?

"I swear to god he's a psychic - he always knows exactly what I need. Sometimes I need space, sometimes I just need a hug, other times he'll have a whole self care night in prepared for me when I get home"

"Ori always knows what to do. She's not a snuggler but she will let me hold her for hours if it meant making me feel better. Honestly most of the time she holds me because - well, boobs"

"Takahiro!"

Makki laughs and jerks away as she pinches his side

38. Do they show a lot of PDA?

"I think we're not too bad. We hold hands, I'll give her the occasional kiss. She lets me wrap my arm around her sometimes"

"These questions are making me feel like a bad girlfriend. Let? :("

"hush, you're the best. You think I'd stick around if you were a bad girlfriend? Do you know how obsessed with you I am? The boys clown me for never shutting up about you even after all this time"

*Ori buries her face in her hands to hide the blush* "Oh my god you're so lame"

"That's her way of saying she loves me too :)"

39. How old were they when they got together?

"I was 22, Ori was 20"

"holy shit, almost four years?"

"Yep"

"wow"

40. Who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

"Me!"

"She's done it before. She named her Ripley"

41. Can they do yoga couple’s poses?

both start cackling "Absolutely not. We can try but it would be a disaster"

42. What is their song?

"Oh its-"

Castaways from the Backyardigans starts playing from Makki's phone as he grins.

"-our song is not Castaways, Hiro"

"It could be. We could decide it is right now"

"We are not making our song Castaways"

"oh c'moooonnnnn, it's a bop!"

Ori laughs "Its-"

"Your song by Elton John. It was playing when we kissed for the first time"

Ori covers her smile with her hand, her eyes soft as she looks at Makki

43. What does their room look like?

"A mess right now, Ori had to find an outfit for today so there are clothes everywhere"

Ori grins sheepishly

44. Who would be the one to kill zombies while the other keeps them grounded?

"Hiro would probably do the killing, I would be moral support"

"I dunno babe, I think if you snapped you could totally become a badass"

"You think so?"

"Hell yeah, I've seen you get mad at Mattsun enough times to know you can get scary as hell when you wanna"

45. Who makes the other breakfast in bed?

"we've done it for each other, it depends on the day to be honest"

46. Who loves kids more?

"Ori"

"But the kids LOVE Hiro so much its crazy, and he's so good with them"

"I like kids well enough but they're so rude and for what"

"I find their lack of filter funny!"

"If you ever feel your ego is too big, just talk to a seven year old. They'll drag to hell and back with no hesitation"

47. Do either of them have a crazy ex?

"I dunno. Do you?"

"No. Do you?"

"Nope"

"Cool"

48. What are their favourite colours?

"Hiro's is this very specific red color"

"Ori doesn't have one, it changes all the time"

"this is true"

49. Who likes to cook?

"Oh I love cooking!"

"She does majority of the cooking but we sometimes cook together"

"he is utter chaos in the kitchen but we always have a good time, even if he make my blood pressure go through the roof"

50. Who is the forgetful one?

"Hey Ori, what'd you have for breakfast this morning."

"I- um. An Iced Coffee?"

"Final answer?"

"....yes"

"Bzzzt. Wrong. You had cereal :)"

51. Does either of them know how to fight?

"I don't mean to brag, but I've taken Tai chi lessons"

"Babe, you signed up for those lessons after we binged Avatar, and you only went to four of those classes before quitting because it was too hard"

"Those four lessons taught me enough to kick someone's ass for you though"

Ori laughs "I'm sure they did"

52. What do they do for Valentines Day?

"We have this tradition of going to the store and each of us take turns blindly picking out snacks, pajamas, and either a movie/video game/or craft project and we stay in and have a little pamper day"

"we also absolutely RAID the store next day when the candy is half off"

53. Who swears more?

"We both swear a lot to be honest"

"Oh my god we're so bad"

54. Who has the better comebacks?

"Hiro, 100%"

"Ori is quick too though"

"But you go right for the jugular"

"I'm not mean to you though"

"Oh no! I just mean with others, like Oikawa - you drag that man within an inch of his life"

Makki laughs "Oh ok yeah that's fair"

55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale?

"Me. Like I said, Ori is a doormat. She is so afraid of confrontation someone could literally spit on her and she'd apologize to them"

"It sounds so bad when you put it like that"

56. Who reads buzzfeed?

"Hiro says he does them ironically, but I'll be reading something on my phone and he'll start asking me obscure questions, and then I realize he's trying to get me to build a smoothie so he can find out with 'Desperate Houswife' I am"

"She got Gabrielle"

"Which isn't even accurate, I'm totally more of a Susan"

"You have some of Gabrielle's spice, though"

"What did you get?"

"Me? oh, I got Lynette"

"kinda accurate, actually"

57. Who is the hopeless romantic?

"I am, she makes fun of me but I know she loves it"

"I do, honestly"

58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand?

"I do!"

59. Who can rap better?

"oh god, neither of us"

"speak for yourself"

"go on babe, rap for them"

"...well I can't right now"

"exactly"

60. Do either of them want to go sky diving?

"I'd be down"

"I love the idea of it but oof, I'm too chicken shit"

61. What do they usually text about?

Makki pulls out his phone

"'hey babe, we're out of eggs' - that was Ori"

"'dog' - with a pic attached of said dog, that was from me"

"11/10, 'I hope he knows what a good boy he is', that was Ori's response"

"Then Ori ranted to me about Uraraka's character development"

"the wasted potential is appalling"

"absolutely it is. 3 hours later, from me - 'I forgot eggs'"

62. Who is the dramatic one?

"me, for sure"

"She's self aware though so its not so bad"

63. Is either one confrontational?

"Not really? We both avoid confrontation whenever possible. If something needs to be said though, I don't really have any reservations about it"

64. What is their favourite cuddle position?

"Me as the big spoon, I much prefer holding him I think, its less hot that way"

"Plus, boobs :3"

Ori groans as Makki laughs "I hate you"

65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)?”

"Ooooh thats a toughie, we listen to so much"

66. What are their parenting styles?

"I tend to be the bad guy"

"That's not true!"

"Why do you think kids like you better? I'm the one who makes them eat veggies for a snack and you bribe them with ice cream"

"I promise we'll share the bad guy role when we have our own"

Ori narrows her eyes at Makki, sticking her tongue out at him "we better"

67. Who would be the more laid back one?

"Hiro, I get wound like a fucking top sometimes"

"You stress easily, but its ok, when you're stressed you get mean and its kinda hot"

"I'm glad my breakdowns are sexy to you"

Makki laughs "You know that's not what I meant"

68. Who listens to more vulgar music?

"Ehh, neither of us really"

"not our jam"

69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

"...do you?"

"....no"

"That was suspish"

"I'm sorry did you just say 'suspish'?"

"don't change the subject! what are you hiding?"

"Nothing!! I swear"

"Pinky?"

"Pinky"

(later, while Ori's out of the studio, he shows a picture of the ring to the camera.

"So, yeah. There is one secret. I'm really bad at lying though so let's not put me on the spot like that anymore please" The man looks d a m p with sweat lmao)

70. Who is their go to couple for a double date?

"FLOSAMU, 100%. We're overdue too, I miss them!"

71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date?

"Generously"

"If you don't tip you're a jackass"

72. How do they work out a fight?

"Communication is key. We often give each other the silent treatment but it usually is just to clear our heads so we can come back to talk it out"

"He's so mature when it comes to our relationship. The way he takes charge when I'm flailing and don't know what to do or how to proceed is so sexy" Ori starts fanning herself as if to emphasis her point, a teasing grin plastered on her face

73. Who brings home an illegal pet?

"Hiro will bring anything home if it's injured. It could be a snake and if he's worried its hurt I will come home to it in the bath"

"you gotta save the animals, babe"

"Most people would call a wildlife facility though, not take them to their tiny city apartment"

74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on?

"I sleep on the left! I don't think either of us are particularly picky about it though"

"We usually wake up sprawled anyway with no clear sign of where we were before"

75. What is their favorite photo of them two together?

"There's a picture someone took of us dancing at a wedding. Ori is mid laugh in that photo and she's just - shit, she's so pretty."

"Hiro what the fuck why are you so sappy today"

"I dunno - I just think you're neat"

Ori's lips tremble a tiny bit. She sniffles. "It's my favorite photo too."

76. Who takes longer in the bathroom?

"Oh my god-"

"Okay-"

"SHE TAKES FOREVER"

"OKAY, LISTEN-"

"SHE ONLY GOES ON TIKTOK WHEN SHE GOES TO THE BATHROOM"

"I JUST GO THROUGH MY NOTIFICATIONS"

"SHE IS NEVER - STOP HITTING ME - SHE IS NEVER QUICKER THAN 30 MINUTES"

"YOU ARE SO DRAMATIC"

"DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON SHOWERS"

77. Who has more songs on their ipod?

"Hiro, I kinda keep to the stuff I know, while he's constantly adding new music"

78. What movie did they first see together?

"Uhhh I think it was-"

"It was Princess Mononoke, you were appalled when I said I hadn't seen it yet"

"Honestly I still am. How do you go through 20 years of your life without having seen Princess Mononoke?" Ori shrugs

79. What do they like to see each other in?

"nothing"

"not sure what I expected, really"

"I mean was there really any other answer?"

80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

"Oh god. Both of us. We are so terrible"

"Sometimes Ori will nudge me if I'm being especially bad but she is usually the one egging me on because there is nothing cuter than her trying to hold in a laugh"

81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children?

"We started talking about it a few months ago"

"It wouldn't be any time soon either, its just discussing the topic so we know where each of us stand"

"Yeah, there's still a lot for us to figure out"

"Like, you know, finances and getting married and stuff"

Ori bites her lip "...yeah, and stuff."

82. What do they love about each other the most?

"It's probably a cop out to say everything"

"please, you don't love everything, I'm a mess"

"but you're MY mess" Ori smiles and kicks him playfully

"This is going to sound super cheesy, but I just love his heart? He's loves so loudly and so wholly. With everyone and everything around him. He's just such a good person and it's insane to think he somehow chose to be with me, a human dumpster"

"You were so romantic until you called yourself a dumpster"

"It was getting too soft, I gotta keep my bruh girl reputation"

"You're such a dork"

83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details?

"I think we're both kind of big picture people"

"No, babe, you are obsessive over minute details"

"No I'm not!"

"Everything takes you twice as long because you are constantly quadruple checking if its ok"

"..."

"and you get so stressed when you're given a project or a problem that's even the tiniest bit vague"

"well, I-"

"And don't even get me started on when you're cleaning, you always take forever because you go through every single item you've ever owned even if you know you're gonna toss or keep it"

"Okay, I feel really attacked right now" Makki laughs

84. What would they write on their partner’s social media’s for their anniversary?

"I usually go with a tried and true mixture of sappy and funny. I post a couple photo of us that I like or just a standalone of him and I give a cute little snippet talking about how lucky I am"

"Every year I just go on a rant about how much I love her. I'm always overwhelmed on anniversaries so I keyboard smash my way through the post."

85. Who is bad at math?

"Me, I don't understand any of it. Hiro is actually pretty good at it though"

86. Who googles everything?

"I've caught her trying to google where her glasses are"

"OKAY to be FAIR I was googling to see what the most likely places would be, it was just to give me ideas"

"And where were they?"

"*sigh* in the fridge"

"why?"

"because I was on autopilot and I assumed it was the butter"

87. Who does stuff on impulse?

"Oh, me. Ori does sometimes but she always regrets whatever she impulse did"

"its normally shopping and then I'm sad because I'm broke again"

88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

"honestly? We learned this the hard way, but...just being there, letting them know they can lean on you when they need to. Being a pillar and giving them the space and comfort to let them tell you what they need and how you can help. Communication is so important in a relationship"

"You said you learned that the hard way? What do you mean by that?"

Ori and Makki share a look

"It's a long story. Another time, maybe"

89. What is an inside joke they have?

They both immediately start laughing

"Are you also thinking-"

"Yes! What about-"

"*incoherent wheezing*"

"well there's the-"

"or the-"

"oh my god remember-"

all the sentences go unfinished, laughter dissolving any chance of you ever figuring any of them out.

90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

"I think its mutual, sometimes we will literally just look at each other and we'll smile without even realizing it."

"We're so gross"

"Ugh, I know." But they smile at each other

91. What is their favourite holiday?

"New years! Christmas is always nice but its stressful with gift giving. New years is always stress free and a good time, plus Ori loves visiting the shrines the next day"

"It's so peaceful, and seeing everyone pay their respects fills me with an overwhelming appreciation for humanity."

92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive?

Ori pouts.

"I'm the angry one. I know I am. I'm a menace"

"You're not a menace babe, you just feel a little more than others"

"Are you like high right now or something? What has got you so wise and therapist-y"

"Love." Makki wiggles his eyebrows as she scoffs, her soft giggles betraying the eye roll

93. What is their favourite board game to play?

"Clue!"

94. Who accidentally sets something on fire?

"Okay, it's me, it's happened more than once too"

"She doesn't know the first thing about safety in the kitchen"

"I want to argue so bad but I just know I can't" she sighs

95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store?

"I'm robbing. Ori would get distracted"

"valid"

96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert?

"Mother Mother"

"It was INSANE"

97. Who sleep talks?

"Hiro does" Ori starts giggling, pulls up the sleep app on her phone

"Wanna listen?"

98. Who is the more social one?

"Oh, me, definitely. She is more talkative but Ori rarely initiated conversation with new people or if she's in a new environment at all"

99. What are their karaoke songs?

"I have to be absolutely trashed before we even attempts Karaoke but we do a duet and its either Bohemian Rhapsody or one of our cheesy love songs"

100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh?

"Hiro!! He does it all the time and I love him for it"

"Awh, love you too babe"

"And that's a wrap!"

Makki looks at Ori, grabbing her hand and instinctively intertwining their hands together. "Ready to go, stinky?"

Ori smiles, bringing their entangled hands up to lips as she presses a soft kiss to his skin.

"Ready."

#orimakki #whispers #familiars #flora #this was so fun and it took me SO LONG because i decided to make it stupid complicated lmao #but I'm so happy with it its cheesy as hell and I don't even care lmao #thank you for sending this in flora!! sweet angel you are too good to me :D<3

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puppy-prose · 4 years ago

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How about jaskier is a dragon and determines that Geralt is very much his mate. He wants to make it official by fucking on the summer solstice, as dragons do to get married/bond. Geralt, not knowing that he's Jaskier's mate, is v. Confused when the bard starts pawing at his clothes and whining for his cock and that talk about "make me yours Geralt" but is Very Into It once he realizes just what's going on

ahh my first request!! thank you so, so much!! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!

Geralt was a witcher—a very good witcher. He could sniff out a bruxae from a mile away; he could track down a wyvern from only a few drops of blood. He knew the differences between rotfiends and ghouls and alghouls, he knew how many spikes were on a manticore’s tail, he knew how to identify and defeat hundreds of monsters, creatures, and beasts of myth.

So, logically, Geralt knew he was a dragon. Jaskier was sure of it. Right?

He didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. How anyone thought he was human baffled him. He hoarded songs and scents, with his precious lite at the center of it all. Notebooks filled to the brim with lyrics and lines—not all of them his. Bags, once he had settled in with Geralt enough to trust him with it, that were always packed with oils, bath salts, and ointments. His temper, too, easy to flare, but easy to forgive. His affinity for shiny, pretty things. And perhaps the most damning of it all, the way he didn’t always act human. The half-raw meat that he never had a problem devouring; the way he always managed to find his way back to Geralt every spring without fail, no matter where on the Continent the witcher was. His unchanged youthful looks, years and years after they met.

So, Jaskier was reasonably certain, Geralt knew what he was. He’d simply not said anything because it was easier—because Geralt disliked honest and open conversations like that. So Jaskier didn’t bother to bring it up either, content in his companion’s silent acceptance.

But truth be told, Jaskier wanted more.

So he asked for it. Subtly, of course. Geralt wasn’t an emotional man—going to him and declaring his love wasn’t exactly an option. So Jaskier started slow, poking and prodding, testing his interests through his kind’s courting traditions. And when his first gift—a pair of gloves made from his own scales, the proud jeweled red dulled and dyed purposefully to keep Geralt safe when he was out stalking beasties—was accepted with a huff, a tiny smile, a roll of the eyes, and Geralt taking awfully good care of them, Jaskier knew his affections were accepted. Perhaps even returned.

More gifts, more rituals followed. Ointments of his favorite scents, carefully diluted for a witcher’s nose, to sooth his dry hands. Intricate braids done during baths, telling stories in his hair; Dutch braids for devotion, crown braids for loyalty, fishtail braids for patience, lace braids for fidelity, with all of them begrudgingly left alone until the next time he desperately needed a bath. The vernal equinox celebrated together by getting awfully drunk on honey wine, procured from the fae themselves.

And lastly, a final gift that could be an equivalent to a human’s engagement ring, he offered to Geralt a plaited bracelet made up of his lute strings, worn and representative of himself, a piece of his prized treasure and a piece of himself practically along with it. And Geralt? Well, Geralt accepted. He wore that bracelet every day, even if he pretended, quite transparently, to be only humoring Jaskier and nothing else. And that was that.

They were mates.

And today was the summer solstice.

Jaskier was antsy. Then again, Geralt was of a mind that Jaskier was always antsy. Fidgety and twitchy, always moving. Like a hummingbird, he thought. It was as if Jaskier expected himself to die if he fell still for even a single minute. But no. This was a different kind of antsy. He’d been extra energetic all day. It was as endearing as it was annoying--though he’d never admit to it.

He’d been whining about leaving the city all day, too. The little bird, always ready to fly away when bored. Gods, Geralt had a hard time hiding his small smiles as Jaskier went on about the boring foods, as he tried to bother him into heading out to the next town as soon as possible. But he’d had to hunt, unfortunately; the city had been plagued with a manticore on its outer regions, and Geralt needed the coin. So he’d had the bard wait for him at the tavern, taken care of the issue, and came back in need of a bath. Jaskier, never one to turn down a bit of pampering whether it was for himself or other people, was happy enough to do so, and they left the city on Jaskier’s insistence in the late afternoon, Geralt’s hair pulled back into a dragon’s braid.

While he’d expected Jaskier to calm as they got further away from the city, the opposite quickly proved itself true. He became more agitated, more twitchy. It prickled at the sense of amusement and content that generally followed him when Jaskier was involved, and as the sun was setting, Geralt finally pulled to a stop, leading them off into a copse of trees. “Go get wood for a fire,” he told Jaskier, hoping getting the man to sleep early that night would fix the issue. “I’ll find us something to eat.”

Together, they set up camp. Geralt had a rabbit caught quickly enough, roasted it over the open fire, and the two of them ate. All throughout the meal, Jaskier jabbered as usual--but his foot kept tapping, his fingers kept rubbing together, his words kept stumbling over themselves. And as the sun disappeared beneath the trees, Geralt caught a whiff of burnt rosemary and sweat. For whatever reason, Jaskier was getting himself worked up.

With a frown, concern marring his brow, Geralt used the tip of his boot to push into the meat of Jaskier’s thigh. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, leaving no room for argument. He wasn’t going to allow the bard to wriggle out of this--not when he’d been acting strangely all day.

Cornflower blue eyes turned up to his. “What? Oh--s’nothing.” Jaskier smiled. “Just a bit nervous, I suppose.”

The witcher’s brow arched. “Nervous?” he repeated. Yes, he could smell that. But he hadn’t expected Jaskier to give that feeling up so easily. “What about?”

“Oh, you know.” Jaskier waved his hand at the sky, his eyes catching--glinting--in the rising moon’s light. “Today was the summer solstice.”

Geralt wasn’t following. He blinked. They’d spent many solstices together. Not winter ones; not yet. One day… But plenty of summer ones. “Why?”

Whether it was the right or the wrong thing to say, Geralt couldn’t tell. It drew a laugh from his bard, slightly hysterical though, and he suddenly found himself with Jaskier’s full attention. He didn’t have that very often. The little bird flitted about here and there; he paid attention to Geralt, all the time, but to put all of his focus on him? To see those blue eyes turn focused and determined, to feel Jaskier staring into his very soul? Yeah, that was a bit intimidating.

“Silly witcher,” Jaskier replied. “This is why, of course.”

In the next moment, too quick for even Geralt’s senses to catch it--though that was likely due to surprise more than anything else--Jaskier was right before him. His breath got stuck in his throat--and then they were kissing.

Gods, Geralt had dreamed of Jaskier’s mouth on his for years. He’d wondered what it tasted like--sweet like the wine he was so fond of? Fruity and full from his dietary preferences? Deep and heady as the forest that Jaskier continued to force himself into with dogged determination? But no. He’d been wrong. It was, somehow, all of those things, and more.

He drew back a little for breath at one point, hardly registering that he’d lifted his hand to cup the nape of Jaskier’s neck, that his precocious little bird had pushed his way between his legs, on his knees before the log Geralt was sitting on. But Jaskier didn’t let him go for even long enough to open his eyes, dragging him back into another kiss. It was searing and hot, really hot, and he gave a soft, involuntary groan.

Finally, though, Jaskier moved back. It was only so he could tug and pull at the leather of Geralt’s armor, swearing under his breath as he pulled at the stubborn closures, swaying close to him and interrupting his own progress. But even with Geralt’s head still reeling from the sudden makeout session, even with him bemused by Jaskier’s usually smooth seducing capabilities turned into him fumbling with a jerkin, he didn’t miss the fact that Jaskier did not look like Jaskier.

Two horns, ivory, ridged in a spiral growing pattern, protruded from Jaskier’s head. They curved back and downwards towards his skull, before turning back up towards the night sky, the tips deadly sharp. Red scales were slowly emerging from his skin to smatter over his cheeks like rouge, like a glamor being revealed bit by bit, Geralt’s medallion not so much as twitching--ancient magic, powerful magic that slipped by even his detection. And he was fumbling, the witcher realized, because his nails had sharpened, those same jewel-toned scaled stretching up the backs of his hands, disappearing up the pale blue of his doublet.

“Dammit,” Jaskier whined, impatience thick on him, the nervous scent already beginning to fade away. “Just want you to fuck me, and this stupid--this--fuck!” He turned his eyes up to Geralt, cat-slit pupils just like the witcher’s own blown in the dark of the night, wide with his desire. “Geralt, please,” he begged, leaning in for another kiss--a kiss that Geralt didn’t refuse. And not just because he was caught off-guard by the novel sensation of being kissed with a newly forked tongue. “Please,” he continued when they broke apart, rubbing his cheek against his like a cat, like he was scenting him, the scratch of the scales not at all painful, instead kind of… Nice? “C’mon, help me, please, need you in me so bad…”

A lot of things clicked together in that moment.

Jaskier’s quick loyalty. His ability to walk hours and hours every day, nonstop. His music, the notebooks that he filled and then sent back to Oxenfurt to be kept safe. The bag of oils and creams that Geralt had not been allowed to so much as touch until two years ago, while they’d been traveling together for over a decade.

The gloves. The vernal equinox. The braids.

Fuck, the bracelet.

Jaskier saw him as his mate. And he’d been courting him, quietly, without drawing attention to it, for months now. And here they were--Jaskier believing him to have accepted his claim, Jaskier looking to seal their relationship by bonding on the night of the summer solstice, tying them together by the ancient magics of the earth for many, many centuries to come. No wonder the poor bard had been nervous.

Geralt was sort of glad he only realized now what was going on, because he knew he would have been nervous, too.

The revelation settled under his skin with surprising ease. Vesemir, should he ever catch word of how long it took him to identify a dragon that had been living side by side with him for years, would tan his hide. But all Geralt could feel was relief. His little hummingbird--or, he supposed, his little dragon, now--wasn’t going to suffer a mortal’s tragically short life. He’d live for hundreds of years more, thousands even, if he didn’t get himself killed first. And Geralt? Geralt could have every single one of those years if he accepted this. If he chose to become Jaskier’s mate.

It wasn’t really a choice at all.

Geralt’s calloused hand took Jaskier’s chin between his fingers. He dragged him up into another kiss, swallowing down the keen that fell between them, and nipped at Jaskier’s bottom lip as they pulled away. “Needy,” he huffed, a smile twitching at his mouth. He dropped his own hands to his armor; it got tossed to the forest floor quickly, Jaskier’s hands immediately setting upon the pale, scarred skin of his soon-to-be mate.

Feeling a bit vindictive for the years that Jaskier had never outright told him what he was, Geralt got hold of the bard’s doublet. He jerked the edges of it, eyes twinkling in satisfaction as the buttons popped off, no chance against his strength. “Hey,” Jaskier reprimanded, the seriousness he intended to put in his voice severely undercut by the breathy way it came out. “I liked this doublet.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” the witcher replied.

It brought a smile to his wicked, wicked mouth, and Geralt dove in for yet another bruising kiss. He pushed the doublet off Jaskier’s shoulders, the satin dropping into the dirt with as much care as his armor had gotten, and he managed to wrestle his chemise off between wet kisses. His mouth was red and wet when he pulled back; Geralt didn’t resist the urge to cup his cheek, to drag his thumb over the abused bottom lip. Jaskier, eyes dark, quickly sucked his thumb into his mouth. He had fangs now, Geralt noted absently, pressing the pad down onto his tongue until Jaskier was forced to open his mouth wide. He rubbed a small arc over the muscle, the dragon obediently still. It didn’t stop him from whimpering when drool pooled and dripped from the sides of his mouth, though.

His thumb was soaked when he pulled it from Jaskier’s tongue. He looked gorgeous--pupils dilated and wanting, chin glistening from the spit, the red of his scales seeming to bleed into the rest of his face for the way his skin was flushed with lust.

“Geralt,” Jaskier begged. “Please.”

So Geralt went.

He wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s middle and pushed him back, back, supporting his weight to keep him from slamming into the ground, but none too gentle otherwise. The roughness seemed to excite Jaskier; he moaned and wrapped his legs around the witcher’s waist, those clawed hands finding purchase behind his shoulders. Geralt didn’t mind the sting. He licked his way into Jaskier’s mouth yet again, and then let his mouth trail down, exploring the other parts of him. His scales were rough against his tongue and he had to be mindful of the direction he went to avoid getting scratched; his jaw and throat were velvety soft and tasted of sweet orange and a deep earthy musk. Jaskier’s pulse fluttered under his lips, and he paid special attention to the edges of the scales that had appeared along his collarbone as well, the dragon shivering with delight.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier pleaded. Geralt reached down between them; his hand was hot over top of Jaskier’s trousers, palming his cock underneath, making the bard’s babbling turn into high pitched whining, hips rocking up.

“Be patient,” he scolded, biting into his throat, watching a bruise blossom there. What was the use in having a dragon as a mate if he didn’t indulge in his own more animalistic urges? Yes, by the end of tonight, he’d have Jaskier claimed just as thoroughly as Jaskier had claimed him.

The bard stammered, bereft, when Geralt moved his hand. He forewent telling him to be patient again, instead hooking his fingers into Jaskier’s trousers and yanking them down, shifting until he could get them and his boots and his smallclothes off all in one go. More ruby scales wrapped around the outside of his thighs, dipped into the hollows of his hips--and his dick was definitely part of pieces of him that hadn’t quite stayed human.

Thick, red, ridged, and with a pointed tip, Geralt couldn’t help but smirk as he drew it into his hand. His little dragon cried out and he watched, fascinated, as a pearly few drops of precum beaded at the slit. It wasn’t anything like he’d fantasized about, when he’d taken himself in hand in his weaker moments when the bard was asleep, imagining what Jaskier’s cock might look like. But it was good, better than good, better than anything he could have dreamed of. Smearing his thumb into the wetness, he spread it down Jaskier’s cock, dragging his hand up and down the shaft. A few more drops appeared from the attention, and he did the same with those as well, slicking him up nicely.

He dropped his hand away, then, to get rid of the rest of his own clothes. Most people didn’t like to see him without clothes. Certainly, they enjoyed his figure, but the scars--the crisscrossing of monsters’ marks, the hunts that had gone wrong, the people that had hunted him instead painting a gruesome picture across his skin. But with Jaskier, it had never been like that. He’d never been bothered. And, considering he was about to fuck a man with scales all over, horns, and a dragon dick, Geralt supposed he wasn’t bothered, either.

Bare at last, Geralt dragged Jaskier’s hips up close. He wrapped his hand around them both, only just managing it really, and the both of them groaned at the sensation. Heat flourished between them and he jerked them off, stretching out over him to bite his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Yes, Jaskier would be a patchwork of bruises come tomorrow morning, and by the way he jerked into each one of them, Geralt had no doubt that he was just as enthusiastic about that prospect as he was.

But as good as this was, it certainly wasn’t what either of them wanted. So he let go soon, smirking again as he wiped the sticky precum on his hand onto Jaskier’s thigh. “Knees,” he commanded, leaning back onto his own so he could reach for Jaskier’s bag. Might as well use what he had there, after all. Being his mate meant being privy to his hoard.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Jaskier listened to him. He keened but turned over, propping his hips up onto his knees. His shoulders pressed low, nearly to the dirt, and he rested his forehead on his wrists, the upturn of his horns just barely above the ground.

Geralt came back to him with a vial of lilac oil. It was one of the ones he’d begun to create for Geralt--that was to say, the scent was heavily diluted, only just strong enough for a hint of smell in consideration of his nose, and perfect for their purposes. He uncorked the vial and used his knees to open Jaskier’s legs wider; his free hand pulled one side of his ass away, leaving him free to get at his puckered hole, where he then dripped the oil down onto. Jaskier gasped and lurched, the liquid no doubt cold, but the witcher held him firm. He lathered up his own fingers, set the glass to the side, and leaned over top of him, licking and kissing the dragon’s scaled shoulder blades as he slowly, slowly sank a finger inside him.

“Geraaaalt!” Jaskier cried. Gods, if he was already this desperate, panting into the dirt and shivering with a single digit, Geralt couldn’t imagine how he’d be once he actually had his cock inside him.

“Lucky this is what it is,” he huffed, dragging Jaskier’s ear into his mouth and relishing the cry that came from it. “Otherwise I’d gag you and tie you down, make you learn some patience.” The dragon’s response was to moan wetly, shoulders shuddering, his tapered cock twitching.

Geralt pressed in a second finger, then. He kept his attention with those bites, scissoring him open, loosening him up. A third joined swiftly after; gods, they were mating, not just fucking. He was going to make sure this was good for Jaskier.

Finally, finally Jaskier was loose enough. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed the vial again, using the rest of it to slick up his cock, the subtle scent sweet between them. His hands found Jaskier’s hips; the dragon’s stomach dropped down further, ass staying in the air. “Breathe,” he said kindly. He waited until Jaskier drew a shaky breath in, out, and then in again before lining up his cock and pushing inside.

The cry of Geralt’s name was more broken syllables than anything, too loud and desperate to pronounce much of it correctly. “Fuck,” Geralt himself said, bending over the dragon. “Fuckin’ tight, Jask. Godsdammit.” He was so fucking tight, so hot around him, his body giving way each inch to the witcher’s intrusion. Jaskier could only mewl in return, his nails clawing into the rich earth, his sides heaving with each panting breath.

He bottomed out, and stayed there for a moment. Being inside Jaskier was dizzying, wonderful; he swore he could feel the air turn lighter around them, easier to breath, sparks flickering underneath his skin. Was this the ancient magic, readying to bind them? Or was this just Jaskier, was it just the fact that finally, he could give in to the feelings he’d ignored for so long, the urges he’d repressed, now that he knew not only did Jaskier feel the same way in return, but that he wouldn’t have to face his demise in what would be, for him a blink of the eye? He wasn’t sure. And, well. Quite frankly, in this moment, Geralt didn’t really give a shit.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier finally managed to say. “Geralt, my mate, please, please! Breed me, fill me up, wanna be yours!”

The words shot through him and what little patience he had left quickly fled. “You want to be bred, little dragon?” he asked, fingers tightening, bruising Jaskier’s hips. “Fine.”

A single kiss to his throat, and then Geralt pulled out to just the head of his cock. In one smooth, brutal motion, he slammed back into Jaskier. It sent the dragon rocking forward a few inches--it sent him roaring, the mighty sound seeming to shake the very trees around them. It was fucking hot, Geralt had to admit, and he groaned before he did it again, and again, setting a merciless pace. He’d never been much of a talker during sex, but he found himself rambling now, bearing his weight down on Jaskier, driving into that tight, wet heat.

“Like it, don’t you, Jask?” he asked, breathing too hard himself to properly bite for the moment, little strands of hair come loose from his braid and before his face, making him look wild, animalistic. “Wanna be bred like the bitch that you are. Fucked in the dirt. Look at you. Such a noble, proud beast. Taking every inch of a beast-slayer’s cock.” Jaskier sobbed, the sound wet, but he kept rocking his hips back into every thrust. They’d traveled together far too long; after the nights Geralt had been forced to listen to through thin inn doors, he knew better than anyone how rough, cruel words could reduce the bard to putty in any man’s hand. The best part? Now they were his hands. And there would never be anyone else.

The thrill of the thought shot through him. Geralt wrapped his arm tight around his middle; his other hand reached up, grabbing onto the base of one of Jaskier’s horns. He used the leverage to haul him up, going back on his own haunches and making the dragon sit on his lap, his cock driving in deeper, brushing against the bundle of nerves so far inside him. Jaskier thrashed, his nails digging into Geralt’s arm, drawing blood; the witcher didn’t mind, holding him through it, keeping his head still even as he fucked up into him, unforgiving and fast. “You’re mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

Jaskier nodded quickly, gasping for breath, only just getting enough air each time to expel it in some noise or another. The tingling under his skin got stronger--definitely the ancient magic, then. Especially considering he watched as sparks of golden light glittering below Jaskier’s skin, barely noticeable, like the chaos was struggling to burst free at any moment. Geralt suspected he looked much the same.

“Gonna breed you,” he promised, tightening his arm around him. “Mate you. Make you mine forever.”

Without warning, he shoved them both to the ground once again. His cock drove into Jaskier and the dragon roared again; Geralt’s hands moved to grab his wrists, push them into the dirt. He used his weight, every inch of their bodies flush together, to keep Jaskier down. And, with the both of them getting closer and closer, he gave in to the beast side of himself. His teeth, sharp and pointed, sliced into the back of Jaskier’s neck. Blood welled up in his mouth immediately, copper and sharp, but he didn’t let go, Jaskier’s pained moan doing little but encouraging him, pinning him against the earth.

It was too much. Jaskier’s sounds got louder, more desperate, more unhinged, before he screamed, his whole body quivering with the force of his climax. His cock pulsed as he came, streaks of white painting the dirt below and flecking onto his stomach above, too. It made his walls tighten around Geralt--and that was it. He was done for. The witcher growled and bit down tighter, his thrusts growing erratic, wild.

With a snarl, he came. He rocked his hips down into Jaskier as he filled him, splashing hot cum inside him, the dragon whimpering. The tingling grew in intensity for just a moment--and then it faded away, leaving him feeling whole in a place in his very soul he hadn’t realized he’d been empty beforehand.

A few more little thrusts and then, with care, he slid his teeth from his neck and pulled his softening cock from Jaskier’s tired body. He grabbed a rag from one of the bags and wiped them both down, pausing for a moment to watch his own cum leak out of Jaskier’s red, loose hole and down his thighs, before getting them clean and, with effort, transporting them both into one of the sleeping rolls.

Face to face with Jaskier, the poor bard blinking slowly, languidly, he couldn’t help but smile and lift his hand. His fingers brushed over the scales on his cheeks, utterly gorgeous.

“Mm,” the dragon hummed, forcing his eyes to flutter open. “My mate.” Nothing could change that now. Not a mage, not a spell, not even destiny herself. Geralt was his, and he was Geralt’s. End of story.

The smile Geralt gave in return was soft, genuine. His golden gaze was gentle, and he gave a tiny nod. “Yes,” he confirmed, barely a rumble in the night air. “Sleep, now. You deserve the rest.” He let his hand fall to Jaskier’s side instead, holding him close. Jaskier gave a gentle hum, shifted a little bit closer, closed his eyes--and slept.

#geraskier #devilkin-kink #my writing //#filled requests //#lemons //

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years ago

Text

critical hit - chapter 4 [make a wisdom saving throw]

When Sting tells Natsu that one of his friends from school is going to be joining their weekly Dungeons & Dragons game, Natsu isn’t impressed - their table is already full. But while Natsu and Gray’s in-game characters clash completely, Natsu finds that real-life Gray might not be that bad after all.

Chapter Summary: The final session of D&D is upon them, and surprising sacrifices must be made. .

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairings: Natsu/Gray, Sting/Rogue

Tags: Modern AU, Dungeons & Dragons, Role-Playing Games, Awkward Flirting, ADHD Natsu, Geek Gray

-----

The rest of the week flew by in a blur of flirty texts, silly Snapchats, and a sushi date on Tuesday evening. Now it was Sunday, and Natsu and Gray were standing in the entrance to the basement, holding hands while Sting raised an eyebrow at them.

“Finally!” He grinned. “Glad my subterfuge worked.”

“Shut all the way up,” Natsu grumbled, waving his notebook in Sting’s direction. “You’re an asshole.”

Sting picked up a Skittle from the bowl in front of him and tossed it at Natsu’s forehead. “I’m an asshole that got you a date,” he insisted. “I believe what you meant to say is ‘thank you.’”

Natsu rolled his eyes before turning to Gray and kissing him on the cheek. “Ignore him,” he said quietly, smiling at the pink flush that crept across Gray’s face. “He’s always a dick.”

“I know,” Gray said, laughing at Sting’s mock outrage behind Natsu’s back. “But he’s also right.”

“See?” Sting kicked Natsu’s ankle as he let go of Gray’s hand and settled down at his spot at the table.

“And how long did it take you to decide to ask Rogue out?” Natsu asked, setting his dice bag on the table and raising an eyebrow at Sting. “Six months? Seven?”

“Over a year,” Rogue interjected from his spot at the end of the table. “Technically we knew each other for almost three years before he said anything.”

“Look,” Sting started indignantly, but was saved from having to explain himself by the arrival of Erza. Everyone immediately sat up in their chairs, organizing their character sheets and pulling out dice as she dropped her books on the table.

“Are we ready?” she asked as she settled down in her chair. The excited look on her face made Natsu grin, and he could see the feeling was mutual when he looked around the table. “Everyone remember what happened last time?”

“We freed the prisoners,” Gray said, tapping his pencil against the sheets of paper where he kept his notes. “But the summoning spell went off anyway, and we were—”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“—too late.”

The demon’s horns breached the portal, tearing through the reddish miasma as a foul black smoke filled the air. The stench of brimstone and burned flesh followed it and Gray coughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

“C’mon,” he said, grabbing Sting’s arm and nodding toward the wall. Natsu and Rogue were back by the door, herding the last of the prisoners to the stairs. Natsu turned around and made eye contact with Gray across the roof. His expression was grim, and he was pressing his hand over his side where a reddish stain was spreading through his robes.

“We can’t let this thing get out,” Sting insisted, pulling his arm out of Gray’s grip. “If it makes it through the summoning circle, we’re fucked.” He gestured to the lines of blood that had been painted along the rooftop. The sight of that – and the pile of corpses that were lying next to the tree – made Gray’s stomach churn.

“I can’t do much else,” he said, flexing his fingers as he dug deep for his magic. The well of power that usually surged through him was barely there. “I don’t have any offensive spells left.”

Sting looked back to Rogue and Natsu, then hefted his greatsword and turned back to the monster. “We have to do something. I’ll keep it busy; you take care of those three. If you can take them out, it should weaken this bastard enough to kill it.” He gestured to the three cultists standing by the portal before saying a quiet prayer under his breath and charging toward the demon.

Gray couldn’t help but stare in awe as he watched Sting’s charge. Brilliant white light burst from his blade as he swung it at the beast, gouging through its tough hide and causing it to howl in pain. The magic made Sting look holy and ethereal. Rogue appeared next to him – the dark to Sting’s light – keeping the creature distracted while Sting swung at it again.

“Hey.” Gray turned to see Natsu standing beside him, still holding his side and breathing heavily. “We’ve got those guys, hey?”

“You’re bleeding,” Gray said, reaching out to grab Natsu’s wrists. Natsu shook his head and pushed Gray’s hand away.

“I’ll be fine. We don’t have much time.” He nodded at the group of cultists, who were starting to move toward them. “I’ve only got a fireball left,” he admitted. “That won’t take all of them out. You?”

Gray shook his head. “I can portal us out of here and that’s about it.” He looked down at the bag on his hip, quickly trying to think of anything that could get them out of this mess. The only thing he could find was the dagger at his hip, and he didn’t have much faith that it would get him very far.

“Wait a minute,” Natsu said. “I have an idea.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“What would happen,” Natsu asked slowly, staring at his spell list, “if we cast a fireball inside a cube of force?”

Erza raised her eyebrow at him from behind her screen but didn’t answer.

“I hate that look,” Sting said. “It either means this is gonna be great, or we’re absolutely fucked.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Natsu insisted.

Rogue scoffed as he took a sip of his iced coffee. “If it’s anything like your last plan, we’re gonna TPK right here.”

“We’re not all gonna die,” Natsu insisted. He pointed to an item in his character’s inventory – the Cube of Force. Gray wasn’t sure where he’d picked it up, but he’d only seen it a few times before. Pressing a button on one side of the magic cube summoned an impenetrable forcefield around the user, keeping them safe from all magic spells coming from outside. Or, Gray supposed, trapping them with a spell inside.

“It’s fifteen feet on each side,” Natsu said. “We just gotta trap all three of them in there and toss a fireball inside before they activate it.”

“Why would they do that?” Sting countered. “You’re just gonna throw the cube to them and say ‘hey, press this magic button, it’ll be fine?’”

Natsu hummed, then looked up at Gray. “Do you have the ‘suggestion’ spell?” he asked. “You could try to compel them to do it.”

Gray nodded. “That won’t work if we try to get them to hurt themselves, though.”

“They don’t know it would hurt them. You’d just be suggesting that they push the button on this very fancy cube that’s being thrown at them. It could be a jack-in-the-box for all they know.”

“We’d have to be within thirty feet for that,” Gray said. “If it doesn’t work, we’re kinda fucked.”

“We’re fucked anyway if we do nothing,” Natsu countered. “Do you—”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“—trust me?” Natsu’s expression was sincere as he gazed into Gray’s eyes.

Gray nodded slowly, digging into his reagent pouch and pulling out the necessary ingredients for the spell. He crushed them in his right hand, taking a quick peek at Rogue and Sting over Natsu’s shoulder. Sting looked exhausted and battered, wiping blood out of his eyes that dripped from a deep cut on his forehead. Baphomet’s hide was stained red and covered in deep gouges, and the demon roared as Gray watched Rogue clamber up onto its back and stab both daggers into its neck.

“Ready?” Natsu’s voice pulled Gray’s attention back, and he looked down to see Natsu holding out a bloodstained hand. Gray took it, squeezing it tightly before turning back toward the cultists.

“Ready,” he said quietly.

“Catch!” Natsu shouted, tossing the cube at the cultists as they charged forward. The leader stumbled to a halt as he caught it out of instinct, staring down at the strange object with his brow furrowed.

“Suadeant,” Gray whispered under his breath as he took a step closer, still gripping Natsu’s hand tightly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and the back of his neck, and his heart pounded as he stared down the cultists. “Praecepta mea.”

The cultist looked up at him, eyes wide, and Gray’s chest flared with hope for a second. Then the man’s lip curled up in a wicked grin, and he shook his head.

“You think you can fool me with your cheap tricks?” the man shouted, tossing the cube to the ground with a snort of disdain. “I am Ezrael, he who summoned the Prince of Beasts, the Horned King. I will not be deceived by the likes of you.”

“Fuck.” Natsu’s palm trembled against Gray’s. “Shit, fucking, fuck.”

“I can get us out of here,” Gray said, taking a step back and holding out a trembling hand. The air sparked and glimmered as a dimensional portal began to form. “We can’t do anything else – just fireball them and hope for the best.”

“It’s not gonna be enough,” Natsu said, tugging at Gray’s grip on his hand and looking across the battlefield. Rogue was on his back in the dirt now, still conscious but breathing heavily, with his arm at an unnatural angle. Sting stood against the door that the prisoners had escaped through, sword shaking in his hands as he fought against pain and exhaustion. “Sting’s gonna die unless we kill them.”

Gray looked on helplessly as Baphomet took a step toward Sting and hefted its enormous glaive in one hand, then brought it down in a powerful arc. Sting parried the blow, dropping to one knee as he fought against the might of the enormous beast. Baphomet knocked the sword from Sting’s hands, sending it clattering across the roof as it wrapped its claws around Sting’s neck and lifted him into the air.

“I’m sorry.” Natsu squeezed Gray’s hand and let go, giving him a regretful look.

“For…” Gray trailed off, one hand still casting the dimensional portal, the other trying to take Natsu’s again. Natsu shook his head, then surprised Gray by leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“For this,” Natsu said softly as he pulled back and gave Gray a sad look. Then he shoved Gray as hard as he could, knocking him back through the portal.

o.o.o.o.o.o

“What the hell?” Gray stared at Natsu, who was looking at his dice with an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face. “Can I make a Strength check to counter that?”

Erza nodded and Gray rolled, cursing when his dice landed on an 11 and Natsu rolled an 18.

“What are you doing?” he asked Natsu. Sting and Rogue were also staring at him with twin looks of surprise.

“Saving you,” Natsu said. He kicked gently at Gray’s ankle under the table. “The plan didn’t work, so either we all die, or one of us does.” He looked up at Sting. “If I take the cultists out you can kill it, right?”

“I do only have… sixteen hit points left,” Sting admitted. “If I can get one good hit in, I might be able to banish it. I have to do fifty points of damage in a turn, but if it drops me and I can get my sword…”

“Well,” Natsu said, pulling out a pile of six-sided dice to roll the fireball’s damage. “Hopefully this works.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Natsu!” Gray’s shout was cut off, and he had no time to react as the magic ported him away, carrying him safely across the rooftop until he was crouched next to Rogue. He watched with horror as Natsu turned and ran toward the cultists. “Natsu, no!”

Natsu ignored him, dodging the first cultist and dropping to his knees to pick up the cube. He turned and gave Gray one more soft smile before pressing the button.

“No,” Gray whispered. The walls of force sprang into life, trapping Natsu in the cube with the cultists. All three of them were still for a moment, staring at Natsu in disbelief, and then the bright light in his hand expanded into an enormous ball of flame.

The explosion was eerily silent, muffled by the magical forcefield. It filled the cube in brilliant shades of orange and red, engulfing everyone inside in Natsu’s raw power. An enormous wave of magic exploded across the rooftop, washing over Gray and Rogue on its way to Baphomet.

“No,” Gray whispered again as the cube began to dissipate. The flames slowly died out, leaving behind three charred corpses and a pile of smoldering robes.

“Sting!” Rogue’s panicked shout snapped Gray out of his haze of grief, and he turned to see Baphomet stumble forward and release its grip on Sting’s throat. Sting fell to the ground on all fours, gasping and choking for air. His sword lay on the ground, just out of reach.

Gray stumbled to his feet, keeping an eye on Baphomet, who was still dazed from the death of its summoners. He darted toward Sting, grabbing the hilt of the sword and dragging it across the ground.

“Get up,” he said, grabbing Sting’s shoulder and pushing him to his knees. Sting coughed, then sucked in several deep breaths before nodding and reaching out for his blade.

“I’ve got this,” he said, voice hoarse. “Get behind me.”

Gray nodded, still dazed, and scrambled back against the door as Sting hefted the sword in both hands and murmured a few quiet words. The length of the blade burst into brilliant white flames that flickered as Sting took a deep breath and charged.

Gray watched with a deep sense of relief as the blade sunk directly into Baphomet’s chest. The demon howled in pain, swinging wildly at Sting, who dodged the blows and drove the blade deeper.

“Protero!” Sting shouted as another wave of holy magic radiated from him, spiraling out from the sword and creeping across Baphomet’s skin. It quickly engulfed the demon, growing brighter and brighter until—

o.o.o.o.o.o

“The holy magic and your deadly blow are enough to rip through the magic holding Baphomet to this plane.” Erza looked around the table, giving each of them a significant look. “As the tether that binds the demon dissolves and it disappears, a heavy silence settles across the rooftop. The shouts and screams of battle are gone, and all you can hear is the wind blowing through the branches of the horrible, flesh-like tree.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sting swore, dropping his head into his hands and exhaling. “That was intense. I was sure we were all gonna d—” He caught himself, looking over at Natsu, who was staring at his dice with an uncomfortable expression on his face. The spot on his character sheet to track his health read ‘Hit Points – 0/93.”

“You’re not dead yet,” Rogue said quickly. “Sting can—”

Sting shook his head. “I’m out of healing spells,” he said regretfully. “I used my last slot on that banishment. And we’re all out of healing potions.”

“Yeah, and this is my last death saving throw,” Natsu said. He glared at his dice. “I failed the first two, so if this one fucks up…” He looked up at Gray. “I’m dead for good.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

Gray groaned, pushing himself to his feet and trying not to focus on the aches that crept across his body. He still felt dizzy but managed to lock his gaze on the motionless pile of robes on the other side of the rooftop.

“You’re bleeding.” Sting’s voice was muffled, and Gray blinked at him, still trying to clear his head. “You should sit down.” When Sting’s hand landed on Gray’s shoulder, he pushed it off, shaking his head and taking another uncertain step forward.

“I gotta…” He trailed off, looking back over at Natsu’s body. “I…”

Sting’s expression twisted into guilt as he followed Gray’s gaze. “Shit,” he whispered. He looked down at Rogue, who had managed to shuffle himself against the wall of the building. Rogue nodded, gesturing for them to go to Natsu. “C’mon,” Sting said, grabbing Gray’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulders.

Each step across the rooftop ached. When they finally reached the charred circle where the fireball had gone off, Gray dropped to his knees. Sting helped him to roll Natsu onto his back and Gray brushed pieces of singed hair out of his face. His forehead and cheek were badly burned, and his arms were blistered, and Gray stared helplessly at his chest, willing it to move.

“You idiot,” Gray managed through the tears that were starting to form. His throat was thick with smoke and emotion. “You stupid fucking… we could have figured out something else.” He ran his fingers down Natsu’s arm and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

“He saved us,” Sting said gently. He was crying too, tears making tracks through the dirt and blood on his face. His hands trembled as he pressed them to Natsu’s chest, but his magic only flickered dimly. “I can’t heal him. I’m sorry.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Here goes nothing.” Natsu picked up his twenty-sided die – bright red, flecked with gold – and shifted it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into the center of the table.

The room was eerily silent as the dice rolled. Gray’s chest was tight with the emotions of the roleplay – despite it not being real, the thought of Natsu sacrificing himself for everyone made him desperately sad.

“C’monnnn,” Natsu whispered under his breath. The dice spun once more, then landed next to Gray’s coffee cup – on a 20.

o.o.o.o.o.o

“It’s not your fault,” Gray reassured Sting, who slumped down onto his knees as well. “It was his cho—”

Natsu’s hand twitched in his.

Gray looked down, eyes widening as Natsu’s fingers trembled, then weakly wrapped around his own. Natsu’s chest rose with a shallow, shuddering breath, and relief and joy flooded through Gray as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Did…” Natsu’s voice was raspy as his gaze tracked from Sting to Gray. “Did it… work?”

“Yes,” Gray squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes, you stupid fucking idiot. Don’t you dare ever do anything like that again, you absolute moron.” The angry words were tempered by a wet laugh of relief. Gray ran a thin layer of ice across the burns on Natsu’s face and arms and he sighed in relief. “Can you move? We should get out of here.”

“Ugh.” Natsu took another shallow breath and tried to push himself up on his elbow. When he wobbled unsteadily, Gray put an arm around his shoulders and helped him up.

“I’m gonna go get Rogue,” Sting said. “I’m glad you’re alive. Thank you.” He squeezed Natsu’s shoulder, giving him a grateful look before heading back over to the other side of the roof.

Gray pulled Natsu as close as possible, being careful to avoid his wounds. “You’re an idiot,” he said again. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was too,” Natsu admitted. He sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Gray’s shoulder. “I’m glad I’m not, though.”

“Me too,” Gray whispered before nudging Natsu’s chin up and kissing him.

Natsu made a soft, happy sound, returning the kiss and gripping Gray’s robes as tightly as he could. “Gray—”

“Shut up.” Gray shook his head and kissed Natsu again. “You’re not dead and neither am I so just shut the hell up and kiss me.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Gaaaaaaaaaay,” Sting whispered, laughing as Natsu punched him in the shoulder. He was still looking at Gray with pink cheeks and the widest smile Gray had ever seen.

“You all make your way slowly down the stairs,” Erza interrupted, “supporting each other as you limp back out into the forest. The dark clouds begin to part as the sun breaks through, filling you with hope and warmth. Despite your wounds and your exhaustion, you are content, knowing that your quest was fulfilled, and you saved the world from a hellish nightmare.” She closed her notebook with a flourish. “And that’s the end of that campaign!”

“That was awesome,” Sting said. “I can’t believe we all survived.”

“Barely,” Rogue added. “Pretty sure my arm was about to fall off.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t get blown up,” Natsu said indignantly.

“I believe that was your choice,” Rogue said, laughing. “And you got a kiss out of it.”

“Worth it,” Natsu agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing at each other and retelling the best parts of their adventures, and by the time everyone was ready to leave, it was almost one in the morning.

“Hey.” Natsu caught Gray’s hand as he started to head upstairs after the other three. “Do…” He hesitated, looking at the floor. “Do you wanna stay? I mean, I can drive you home if you want, of course, I just thought—”

“Yes.” Gray waited until Sting, Rogue, and Erza were up the stairs before pulling Natsu close and kissing him. He ran a hand through Natsu’s hair, brushing his messy bangs out of his face and bumping their noses together. “But this time we get to sleep in your bed instead of the couch.”

Natsu laughed, kissing Gray’s cheek and nudging him upstairs. “Deal,” he said.

Once everyone was gone, it didn’t take long to get ready for bed. Gray yawned as he shifted over, letting Natsu curl up next to him with his head resting on Gray’s shoulder. He made a soft sound as Natsu slipped a hand under his shirt, tracing gentle circles on his hip.

“I’m glad Sting invited me to play with you guys,” Gray said quietly, tipping Natsu’s chin up to kiss him again. Natsu sighed contentedly and cuddled closer as he ran his tongue along Gray’s lower lip.

“Me too,” he murmured between kisses. “And I can’t wait for the next adventure.”

#fairy tail #gratsu #stingue #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #erza scarlet #fanfic #ft fanfic #d&d #dungeons & dragons #fluff #critical hit #new chapter #update #completed fic #my fic

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another-snape-story · 5 years ago

Text

Start of Term Banquet

Chapter IX

The day when school was to open its gates for the students has come, and with it came a strange uneasy feeling, which made you doubt whether you should ever sign up for this.

Wrapped in a blanket, you shielded yourself from the sunlight, which started seeping through a narrow slit between fringed heavy curtains, wishing you could stay in bed till next week – or better till next year – and skip this whole procedure of meeting children and – what seemed even more frightening – running your first class. You grabbed a pillow and pulled it over your face, letting out a loud groan of displeasure. A moment later the pillow landed back on a mattress with a hard flop and rolled across the bed, in your opinion – prohibitively wide for one person. After a split second of balancing on its edge, it fell on the floor. You didn’t care. Staring at the ceiling, you regretted staying at Snape’s for too long last night, but once this thought crossed your mind, your lips stretched in a contented smile. No, this was definitely not something you should ever regret.

One of your feet touched the rug, and soon the other one joined it, when you finally found strength to sit upright. Getting out of bed has never been an easy task for you, especially on days like this. The only thing that made you up was a chance to meet your fellow Professor, who could probably give you a piece of advice on how to survive your first day of teaching. You didn’t feel like acting all thorny and standoffish around him; you already trusted him enough to share some of your insecurities. It just happens sometimes: you meet a person, and on a level deeper than human perception allows, you somehow realize you fit together, even though you might know not much about each other or even nothing at all.

“He’s certainly not there,” you told yourself, turning the handle on the staff room door, but still hoping he was. The more space of the room the opening door revealed, the less of a hope there left within your heart, which was replaced with bitter disappointment, once you stepped inside and didn’t find him. Regrettably, there was a short stature of Professor Flitwick instead. Not that you didn’t like him – otherwise, he managed to combine intelligence with sense of humor in such a pleasingly ingenious and simple manner, you couldn’t resist his captivating charm – but at the moment you just didn’t feel enthusiastic about any abstract conversation.

“A little nervous, ain’t you?” he smiled from above the armrest of a couch.

“I am…” taken aback, you admitted hesitantly. “How did you…?”

“I always feel nervous on the first day of the term, even after all these years,” he replied in a squeaky voice.

Later you thought it was even good you met no other than this tiny man. He definitely was a better person to discuss the issue which bothered the both of you, him – clearly – to a much lesser extent. He persuaded you that there was nothing to worry about and, considering indifference the worst of vices, expressed his approval of taking things close to one’s heart.

As much as Professor Flitwick helped you overcome excitement, there still remained something that gave you no peace. It was getting dark; the students were about to arrive. Busy with start of term banquet preparations, seemingly each of your colleagues scurried through the castle making sure everything was ready; even school ghosts gathered in the Entrance Hall to greet newcomers, but Snape never showed up. Neither actually did Dumbledore, yet his absence didn’t upset you in a slightest. Hoping to chase annoying thought away, you roamed the Great Hall, admiring the view of the floating candles under the ceiling enchanted to look like the sky above.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice you had no trouble recognizing asked from behind your back.

“Just loitering around,” you turned to face the man wearing his regular black suit and impassive expression. No matter how hard you tried not to smile, the corners of your lips raised up slightly, and so – unable to resist – did his.

“Take your place, the students are already here.”

“Are they?” This news surprised you, since nothing betrayed someone’s presence.

“Come on,” Professor Snape hurried you, heading for the High Table. “You don’t want the crowd to trample you down,” his hand leisurely reached for your waist and froze mere inches to the small of your back, never venturing to come in contact with your body.

As the last word was spoken, children broke through huge oak doors floating the Hall and filling the air with cheerful buzz of excited voices. Amazed, you watched their chaotic maneuvers between benches in attempt to get a better place at the table, realizing how close you were to being engulfed in this swirling mass.

“I swear, Professor, if you appeared a minute later…”

“Save your gratitude for occasion more suitable in the circumstances,” he interrupted you in his typical monotonous manner, scanning the crowd with the look of anthracite eyes, which now seemed even darker than usual.

Attention switched from the man’s face, you noticed your other colleagues joining in. Headmaster was smiling broader than ever. Professor Quirrell caught his foot on the ends of his robe and almost ran into Professor Hooch, who was forced to grab him – overbearing enough – to jolt him back to balance. Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy Professor you got along quite well, happened to find her place on the other side of the table, so you had no choice but to stay where you stood, moreover, you had no reason for complaining – the company this evening prepared for you was more than acceptable.

“I can’t spot Professor McGonagall,” you whispered, leaning closer to Snape’s ear, as if it was a confidential matter.

“Of course, you can’t, because she’s not here,” was his plain answer.

Before you could open your mouth to ask for more details, the oak doors swung open again, and a line of paired up first-years entered the Hall, escorted by the one you were just talking about. Professor McGonagall led them up the teacher’s table, where the Sorting Hat was already awaiting to put children in their Houses.

“L-look at t-that young m-man in round g-glasses,” Quirinus perked up. “This is Harry P-P-Potter! I m-met him in the L-leaky C-C-Cauldron on the 31st of July! H-he was…”

“What were you doing in the Leaky Cauldron, Quirrell? You said you had some business in the Ministry,” Snape cut him short, focused on identifying the legend among other children. It wasn’t hard – he was the only one wearing round glasses. This very moment, rubbing his forehead, the boy looked in your direction. He seemed lost and confused, just like his peers waiting for their turn to be sorted.

“I d-did,” he confirmed, “it was earlier t-that d-day.”

“Don’t mind a glass of sherry before meeting authorities? You never stop surprising me,” Snape snapped disapprovingly.

“N-no, I just…”

“Harry Potter!” McGonagall called the boy’s name, and all the people – students and teachers – stared at him in at once settled silence. While the Hat took its time to decide in which House Harry belonged, Quirinus stuttered something under his breath, probably, trying to find an excuse, but no one was interested.

“Shut up, Quirrell!” you heard Snape’s annoyed hissing, and he stopped half-word, his face – paler than before – contrasting with purple of his huge turban.

“Not Slytherin, eh?” asked the Sorting Hat from the boy’s head, which almost disappeared in its shabby depth, and the man beside you grunted contemptuously, drawing your attention. But once Harry Potter was announced to be a Gryffindor, unimpressed, he pursed his lips, while the rest loudly cheered the little wizard, who walked toward his table looking like fainting from excitement.

“Wanted to have him in Slytherin?” you teased your gloomy colleague.

“Why would I even care?” Professor’s face twisted in disgust, and you giggled.

“So, you said, 31st of July. Wasn’t it that very day when Gringotts break-in took place?” you addressed Quirrell, when the last student was sorted and the feast began.

Snape, who was sitting between the two of you, frowned. “Indeed,” he confirmed.

“Did you see something strange?” your bent over the table trying to get a better view of the man’s face from behind tall black figure.

“S-strange?” he muttered, avoiding your curious glance. “I d-don’t think s-s-so. It was j-just as us-sual.”

“Just – as – usual,” Snape recited thoughtfully. “And how often do you drop in there, Quirrell… to judge about commonness of that place?”

“W-well I’ve b-been there a c-couple of t-times when I needed to f-find another b-book for my w-w-werewolves’ r-research and…”

“I thought you were studying vampires?” Snape clarified in a bored tone.

“I always t-try to l-learn something n-new, to k-keep abreast, you know…” Quirrell returned to his meal.

“So you must’ve heard they procreated a new dragon as a result of crossbreeding!” you exclaimed delightedly.

Snape’s brow arched in astonishment, as he slowly turned his head with ‘oh really?’ expression on his face to check if you’ve suddenly gone insane, or he just overheard something. Leaning on the carved backrest of your chair, you gave him a sign not to dispute, so that Quirrell couldn’t see it.

“Romanian Longhorn and Swedish Short-Snout,” curious what you were up to, Snape played along, naming first two species that came to his mind.

“Exactly! They called it Snout-Horn, but still can’t come to an agreement about its belonging to one of the countries. The argument maxed out recently! Taking into account that the dragon hatched in Slovakia, it’s quite a hot topic!”

“N-no m-matter, h-how they c-call it – it’s a b-b-breakthrough anyway!” Quirrell acknowledged, without showing much interest.

“Its horn grew way too long – and therefore too heavy – so the creature barely holds its head,” you continued vigorously. “Can you imagine!”

A master of self-control, Snape couldn’t help letting out a short snort, not believing he participated in this nonsense.

“What for was all that dragon thing?” he asked you after the feast, on the way back to your chambers.

“He never gives comprehensive answers,” you shared your assumption. “Just wanted to find out, whether he’s a fool or just pretends.”

Snape walked silently beside you.

“I got the same apprehension,” he admitted finally.

“You think he knows the one who did it? I mean… Gringotts break-in?”

“Too fast with conclusions, ain’t we?” a ghost of smile crossed the man’s face and vanished as fast as it appeared.

He was pretending too. You knew this question bothered him even more than yourself, but he wasn’t going to discuss it with you. Why? Didn’t he trust you? Did he consider it not your business? You felt hurt. You really cared about the Stone and the safety of the whole school, but no one seemed to appreciate it.

“Perhaps… Good night, Professor,” disappointed, you gave him a harsh nod.

Snape realized he’s just pushed you away – which was the last thing he wanted – but being not ready for such outcome, he couldn’t find words to fix this stupid situation.

“Good night, Professor,” he answered stiffly, surpassing your formality, and headed down the corridor to his private rooms, scolding himself for being too wary; and you remained standing where he left you – upset, frustrated.

Before offence could squeeze your heart and poison your soul with sadness and misery, Snape stopped in his tracks.

“Don’t let him become aware of your suspicions,” he said quietly, his head just half a turn in your direction.

“Professor?” you called him softly. Desperate notes in your tone prompted him raise his glance on you, and what he saw made him feel relieved at once. You were smiling.

“Rest,” he smiled back. “Your next day’s going to be full of impressions.”

<<<Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >>>

Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof @mayumikurosake @redrehab @space-helen @fluffymadamina nadiigh @theworldisugly-22 @lukaerith-morningstar @sighsinkhuzdul @67-chevy-baby

#snape #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction

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yandere-wishes · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Blood // Yandere!Vampier! Malleus Draconia x reader//

There had always been an eerie atmosphere surrounding Night Raven. The elevated edifice along with the ghoulish woods that surrounded it had been outcasted from the luminous tiny villages and civilizations that occupied the same land.

Inside the laws of life itself seemed to be mangled and tormented, giving birth to a monstrous manner of existence. The entire student body seemed to be living double lives that they themselves were not aware of. Their form of speech, comportment, socializing and the methodology that was taught, differed vastly from those of the exterior world.

This had left you pondering most restless nights as to how someone as ordinary as yourself had been permitted to attend such a surreal school.

The night began like any other, the moon hung in the onyx tapestry of the sky, shining rays through the large glass windows littering the hall walls. The sound of mysterious hooting and chirping filling the night with only a slight sense of livelihood.

You rushed down the noir passageways to your first class. Feet hitting the navy tiles in a fast-paced tempo. Your mind was scattered, lungs heavy and heart even heavier. Never did you notice the large crack in the flooring. Toe boxing slipping between the parted marble, you crashed knees and palms first onto the hard, cold tiles. Pain shot through your body, skin tore away freeing an oozing red liquid. Salty tears pricked at the corners of your pretty eyes. Shaking you brought yourself to rest on your bruised knees, staring down fearfull at the wide-ranging gashes on your flooded palms. You were about to start crying when you heard footsteps stopping in front of you, through glossy eyes you looked up and the mysterious person.

Malleus Draconia a third year and dorm leader of the ever-mysterious Diasomnia stared back down at you. Murky emerald green eyes were fixed on your red palms in a dazed and feral manner. He slowly, almost predatory crunched down to your level, He gripped your right wrist tightly digging his black nails into your tender, soft flesh. Yanking it closer to his mouth he began to lap at the blood with his tongue. With a trembling airy noise leaving your mouth, you attempted to squirm and wriggle out of this tight grasp.

"Stop" he demanded, lifting his eyes for a millisecond to send you a warning glare.

When you didn't heed and continued your feeble attempt to free yourself, he grabbed the collar of your uniform and roughly dragged you closer to his chest. Incaging you between his free arm and knees. Your tears began to flow again, not at the stinging pain but at the unorthodox thing he was doing to you. Minutes flew by like hours as you remain trapped, close to the dragon boy.

"Malleus-sama where are you? The class has already begun!"

Finally you though, never had Lilila's voice sounded so sweet to your ears. He quickly jogged up to your capturer and tugged on his shoulder.

"Come on already" The "older" fae whined.

Reluctantly Malleus released you as you melted to the floor a shacking sobbing mess. Lilia couldn't have cared less and simply walked away only looking over his shoulder to note if Malleus had pursued or not.

His shadow never left you and ever so quietly he whispered "Your blood tastes to fresh and sweet...I want more". He then walked over to where his companion was tapping his foot and huffing impatiently.

Despite how preternatural the school's atmosphere may have been, it couldn't have been as terrorizing as it was now. Everywhere you went you caught a glimpse of raven-colored hair and even darker horns following you. You'd also began to note a presence in your room in the dead of night. Something was watching you as you attempted to fall into slumber. In the afternoons when you'd wake up, your body seemed to be littered with small puncture wounds or scrapes. Everywhere except your neck.

Mozes prattled about some war which happed only forever ago between the four branches of dark fairies when they'd first immigrated to the "human world". You could practically feel your brain melting in boredom. How you longed for that sweet-sounding bell to simply ring, but once.

A poke to your back jolted you out of your thoughts. You spun around to find Silver handing you're a letter with a dark green seel. His expression was one of boredom, eyes fixed on the professor and not bothering to address you. Blinking, you slowly plucked the letter from his outstretched hand.

"What's this for?" You asked curiosity lacing your voice.

"Don't know~" Silver paused letting out a long yawn. "Don't care"

You shot him a quick glare before turning back in your seat. Carefully you cracked open the seal letting little crumbs fall onto your lap.

Gliding the letter out you began to read.

Dearest (Y/N)~

I deeply apologize for my eccentric behavior in the hallway yesterday. You'd find that I'm not habitually so idiosyncratic. As a means to repent, I would be delighted if you were to accept my invitation to dinner tonight in the Diasmonia dorm.

Sincerely yours~ Malleus Draconia (Dorm leader of Diasmonia)

Your heartbeat quicked as you put down the letter. Was that maniac serious why would you accept his invitation after the stunt he'd pulled. No no, this was too much no way in hades where you going to that cursed dorm to meet with the diabolical man.

After the bell had finally rung, you began to walk to the exit. Planning on just relaxing in your dorm room. As you stride towards the door, a string hand rapidly wrapped around your wrist and pulled you forward. Tracing the arm to its owner you quickly noticed that it belonged to Silver.

"Silver what the heck! Let me go now!"

The silver-haired boy didn't even acknowledge you. The more you tugged attempting to liberate your arm the tighter and tighter his grip got.

Had Diasomnia always been so far? It seemed to take you and Silver hours just to get there. After what only felt like hours of walking did the gothic noir castle. The hulking oak doors seemed to open on their own once they spotted Sliver. He didn't stop, he continued tugging you up a flight of stairs not bothering to address you even as you tipped and tumbled.

Finally, he led you into a large room. It seemed over-decorated and rather victorian to say the least. A thick sadness loomed in the room, manifesting itself in tiny dust particles covering every inch of the room... except a jet black dress with neon green details that laid lifeless on the king-sized canopy bed.

"That's yours" Silver gestured to the dress with a lazy smirk" I'm sure he'll like it". With that, he spun on his heels and marched out.

When the door slammed behind him you quickly rushed to the window. Ready to jump out, you suddenly noticed how high up you were. Muttering curses under your breath you walked over to the bed. Slumping on it you glared at the dress. "What in god's name is going on?"

Finding no other immediate solution you reluctantly through on the dress. Brushed your hair and knocked on the door. Silver pushed in open permitting you to exist.

"Malleus-sama is waiting for you on the fifth floor in the dining room." Monotonous as always.

You practically ran up the stairs taking them two by two. The sooner you found Malleus the sooner this nightmare would be over. When you finally reached the top of the velvet cover stairs you say the green-eyed boy waiting for you outside of an open room. You quickly jogged up to him.

"Malleus what is the meaning--"

He left, slowly walking into the room. An action practically ordering you to follow. Entering the room you quickly noted the lavish and immense dining table. It was covered by a pitch-black table cloth. And yet no food there was simply a golden jewel oriented cup.

"What's the point of going to such extravagance to invite me to dinner if there isn't anything to eat" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the raven-haired boy.

"My, my how rude you are little beastie. I go to such troubles to make this meal enjoyable for you as well and you speak to me in such a manner?" His brows frowned and lips split into an easy smirk.

"Yes, Malleus you are supposed to make an evening entertaining and enjoyable when you invite guests over. That the whole point of a dinner party." Was he so clueless?

"Guest? My whatever gave you the inkling that you were to be my guest?"

Your mind rushed back to the letter, re-reading it and trying to find some clue as to what he was saying. "You apologized for your rube and frankly nauseating performance yesterday!" At this point you where fuming how the dare he treats you as such was this all a game to him.

"Humans aren't very bright now, are they? The letter was a formal apologie yes, I don't usually treat my food in such a foul manner. Then again I'm mostly used to attacking my meals."

You slowly stepped back preparing to make a run for the door. Food, was he planning on eating you? Was he truly a sick psycho as you'd previously suspected? As you began to turn, he quickly lunged towards you, causing you to fall whilst he hovered above you.

He opened his mouth teeth began to grow sharper and sharper until they were practically miniature knives in his mouth.

"What- what are you?" Fear soaked your voice, the room began to spin. Your leg hurt so badly, there surely must be something broken.

Malleus shook his head, eyes locking with yours. "Dear (Y/n) I'm no different than any other creature in this school, we are all bloodthirsty, no difference there".

Slowly things began to fall into place. That's why they were so different so peculiar. The ideologies and behavior in this school were so monstrous because they were monsters!

His teeth slowly descended onto your neck, pocking and cracking the delicate flesh. It felt like thousands of needles being plunged into your skin simultaneously. Pain coursed through your neck traveling at lighting speeds to your arms and legs and every other inch of your being.

"Malleus stop please it- it hurts" you whimpered.

He pulled back to stare at you, bright crimson dripped from between his fangs, spilling over your dress and his clothes. Carelessly he wiped the back of his sleeve over his mouth.

"(Y/n) you should be thanking me! Not complaining so much! You'd be dead by now if I hadn't deemed you worthy of being my blood bank." He was furious pale face turning ever so slightly red.

"I'm not food Malleus! You aren't permitted to keep me!" You screamed tears flowing from your eyes and voice cracking.

"I can do whatever I please with a useless human such as your self! I'm eternal I rule over the night. You and your kind are nothing more than overly selfconscious monkeys."

His fingers wrapped around your neck and slammed your head down.

"I own you (Y/N) you are mine to feed off of, mine to do with as I please, YOU ARE MINE".

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mdelpin · 4 years ago

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In Search of a Dream - Chapter 2

Slayers Week 2020 Prompt: Magic / Adventure Pairing: Gray x Natsu AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Like many others, I’m not a huge fan of the Daphne arc, so I figured while I was messing with canon (yes, I know it’s anime only), I might as well change this up a bit.

Summary: Gray goes off in search of Igneel. After several months of chasing leads that get him nowhere, he happens upon a girl who claims she’s seen a dragon.

0-0

Gray figured the best way to start his search was to go to the place where Natsu had been found by Gramps all those years ago. Taking advantage of the fact that the dragon slayer had left on a job with Lucy and Happy, Gray had cornered the guild master and plied him with drinks.

He hadn’t missed the curious way Gramps had stared at him once he’d understood what Gray wanted, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what Gray was up to and how it tied into his never-ending rivalry with Natsu. Eventually, he recounted everything he remembered and even marked the spot on a map.

Having acquired all the information he needed, Gray decided to leave the next morning. It had been a while since he’d gone off on his own, and he was looking forward to it — the promise of a new adventure exciting him as it always did.

It took him three days of walking to find the forest Gramps had marked on the map. He examined his surroundings, but nothing really caught his attention, it looked like any number of forests he’d visited over the years. Gray explored as much of it as he could, trying to find anything that could be considered a clue to how Natsu had ended up there by himself so many years earlier.

He decided to camp for the night, carefully lighting a fire to cook his food. He found himself staring into the flames, his thoughts straying to Natsu. What must it have felt like for him to find himself here all alone? Had he been scared?

Gramps had mentioned that Natsu had refused to leave this spot, determined that Igneel would return at any moment, even though by his own admission, the dragon slayer had already been waiting for weeks.

He couldn’t help but be glad that the old man had worked his usual magic, convincing the stubborn boy to give guild life a chance. Gray didn’t even want to imagine how different his life would have been if Natsu hadn’t been a part of Fairy Tail, how different he would be if the annoying fire-breather hadn’t been there to challenge him at every opportunity.

Gray thought that was part of what his need to find Igneel was, Natsu had done so much for him over the years, and he’d never been able to repay him in any way that mattered.

He put out the fire, encasing himself in a dome of ice for protection while he slept. In the morning, he got ready to leave. On a whim, he used his ice to lift himself up in the air and look around, hoping to find something that maybe Gramps had missed, but there was nothing but trees everywhere he looked.

Disappointed that the forest had been a bust, he decided to walk to the next town to see if anyone remembered anything from when Natsu had been found or had heard about any dragons in the area.

He traveled to town after town, visiting libraries, searching official records, and talking to anyone he could find, following any lead that came his way regardless of how insignificant it seemed. But no matter how much he searched or how hard he tried, everything turned out to be a dead-end, or easily explained away.

Gray was beginning to understand Natsu’s frustration. Everywhere he went, he was ridiculed for his questions. It had only been a few months since he’d started his journey, but the constant disappointment was already getting to him.

Maybe the real question wasn’t whether Natsu should give up or not, but rather how he’d been able to continue his search for so long. More than ever, Gray wanted to find Igneel for his friend, but he was running out of ideas, and there hadn’t been a lead to follow in days.

He was currently in the city of Malba, eating lunch at a local cafe and considering his options. He wanted to keep going, but the truth was that he was almost out of jewels. He’d have to go home soon.

He also hadn’t exactly told anyone what he was doing or where he was going. Knowing Fairy Tail, they’d be sending out a search party soon, and he could just imagine who would be on it. As much as he wanted to see Natsu again, he was determined to have something to tell him first. Anything that would return that fire back into Natsu’s eyes.

Frustrated by his lack of progress, he decided to walk around and explore the city for a while. The idea of giving up didn’t sit well with him, but Gray didn’t know what else to do. He was surprised to find a magic shop tucked away in an area of the city that had clearly seen better days.

Gray had never really been to a magic shop before. He was a caster mage, and from what he’d understood, these places mostly sold magical items. With nothing better to do and welcoming a distraction, he decided to enter. If nothing else, maybe he could find Natsu a present for his birthday, which was coming up in about two weeks.

As he’d suspected, there were a lot of charms and magic potions, devices that could change your clothes or hair color, but outside of some prime prank material for Natsu, there wasn’t really much there to hold his interest.

Until he came across an area of the shop that seemed to thrum with magical energy. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he pushed the curtains aside and walked through. This room was much more interesting. Even though it was dimly lit, Gray could feel the power emanating from some of the objects encased in the display cases. The man who stood behind the counter nodded at him as he entered, but he was already deep in conversation with a woman.

Gray continued to explore the small room, fascinated by the displays. The case he was currently examining contained many trinkets - rings and lockets, masks that seemed to pulsate with dark energy - as well as different items that purported to be from mythical creatures. A feather from a phoenix, a horn from a unicorn, a stinger from the tail of a manticore, and many others that Gray had never even heard of.

“Daphne, we’ve been through this before, I can’t buy that from you,” the shopkeeper’s voice was laced with irritation, but he seemed to be trying to keep it in check.

“But it’s a dragon scale!” Daphne protested, “It must have some value. They were one of the strongest magical creatures, weren’t they?”

“There hasn’t been a confirmed dragon sighting in hundreds of years, I’m sorry for what happened to your city, but I can’t just buy an item I know is fake.”

“But I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“You saw a dragon?” Gray interrupted, excited by the prospect of another lead, “When was this?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Daphne turned to him, her eyes alive with excitement, “It was-”

“No, she didn’t,” the shopkeeper interrupted, “If you’re looking for magical items, I’m sure I can help you find something here that will suit your needs.”

Gray ignored him in favor of examining the woman. She looked to be about his age, with medium length black hair and big brown eyes that hid behind glasses. He couldn’t sense any magic power coming from her, but more importantly, he didn’t get the sense that she was lying.

“Can I see the scale?”

Daphne handed it to him, and Gray could barely contain his excitement. It was a large white scale that looked and felt incredibly similar to those that made up Natsu’s scarf.

“It was red at first,” she informed him, “but it lost all it’s coloring soon after.”

Gray could hear the shopkeeper muttering behind them and made a quick decision. “Can you take me to where you found this?”

” Yeah, sure.”

0-0

They left the magic store behind, then the city, walking towards the field where Daphne claimed to have seen a dragon in the sky some years earlier. Along the way she told Gray a story that he had trouble believing, but made more sense than anything else he’d heard during the last few months.

Daphne claimed she had been playing by herself in the field when she’d heard a loud noise coming from above. Surprised, she’d looked up only to see a large creature flying overhead. It had seemed ghostly, but she’d had no trouble identifying it as a dragon nonetheless.

The extraordinary thing was that she claimed that the dragon seemed to be trying to ram into something. Its terrifying roars rang louder with every failed attempt until suddenly it just disappeared from sight. She’d found several scales in the grass and had grabbed them to show her family, but when she’d arrived home, everyone in the city had disappeared. Well, everyone with magic anyway, Daphne had none.

She’d run to the next town to ask for help, but they hadn’t believed her. Everyone she’d told had made fun of her, calling her crazy and suggesting that maybe everyone in the city had left to get away from her.

Regardless, no one could explain what had happened to the people in her city, and soon it was nicknamed the City Without Sound. People would come to explore it, fascinated by the idea of a ghost town in modern times. Daphne had been left with nothing but the dragon scales, surviving on the jewels she got from selling items she found in the empty houses.

“Are you sure this is where you saw it?” Gray asked, not sensing anything out of the ordinary about the field.

“Of course, I’m sure!” Daphne snapped, “Do you really think I’d forget after what happened?”

“Right, sorry,” Gray excused himself, then he had a thought. “Do you remember what date it was?”

“July 7th of 778,” Daphne replied, peering at him curiously, “Why does it matter?”

Gray startled at the date, it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? Natsu had been abandoned on that same day a year earlier. He held the dragon scale in his hand and stared at it. It had to mean something, it just had to.

“I have a friend who was raised by a dragon. He was abandoned on that same day in 777, he’s been looking for his dragon ever since,” Gray admitted, handing the scale back. “I’m trying to help him find it.”

“I’ve seen it more than once,” Daphne suddenly admitted.

“What?! Why didn’t you say so before?”

“People already think I’m crazy,” Daphne shrugged, lying down on the grass and staring up at the clouds. “The first year after it happened, I came back here every day, but I never saw anything. When July 7th came around again, I was determined the dragon would show up. I managed to convince a few people to come so I could prove I wasn’t crazy, but when it didn’t show, things got worse for me. But I knew I would see it again, and I was right. The following year I heard the same sound and looked up to see the dragon once again. Everything was the same as before.”

“I raced home, hoping that everyone had returned, but - uhm, they were still gone,” Daphne’s pained chuckle tore at Gray’s heart.

He felt a strange kinship with this girl, he’d lost everyone in the blink of an eye too, and it had been horrible, but at least he’d known what had happened. Whatever took place here on that day had caused her to lose everyone without any explanation, which had to be worse. Still, there was something about what she had said that nagged at him.

And that’s when it hit him, she’d said everyone in the village had had magic, except for her. That was unusual. In general, only about ten percent of people on Earthland had magic.

“Take me to your village,” Gray demanded, determined that there had to be something there that would have caused this to happen.

Daphne considered him for a moment and then got up, shaking off the dirt from her clothes, “What is it you expect to find?”

“I don’t know yet,” Gray admitted, “but I get the feeling I’ll recognize it when I see it.”

“Do you think you can help me get them back?” The hope in her eyes made him pause, he didn’t want to make things worse for her if there was nothing he could do, but he could feel it in his bones. He was on to something.

0-0

He was right.

Even before reaching the city entrance, he could feel it. There was an enormous concentration of ethernano in the air surrounding them, more than what could be considered normal. His magic was buzzing inside him, begging to be let out.

“Daphne, do you think I could have one of those scales to show my friend?”

“I have no idea what’s going on, but you believed me when no one else did, and for that, you may have one with my thanks,” she handed him one of the scales. She looked down at the floor, her voice quivering as she asked, “Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

He didn’t want to give her any false hope, but he knew that if there was one person who knew a lot about dragons, it was Natsu Dragneel, and when they both set their minds to something, nothing ever stood in their way.

The dragon had first been sighted in 778, and Daphne had said that it returned every other year, which meant that if she was telling the truth - and Gray was convinced that she was - it was scheduled to return in a little over a week’s time.

And when it did, he and Natsu would be waiting.

@ao3feed-gratsu

#fairy tail #ftguildevents #Slayers Week 2020 #gratsu #update #prompt: magic #prompt: adventure

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beautifulterriblequeen · 5 years ago

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Total Eclipse of the Heart

For Ruthari Week 2020

AU: Canon

Pairings: Runaan x Ethari

Rating: Gen

Archive warnings: None

Prompt #6: Light/Shadow

“Runaan, you can’t be serious.” Ethari’s spoon hovered in midair. “Things are bad enough—”

“They are,” Runaan agreed. “And this will fix them.” He spread jam across his breakfast roll and took a bite.

Ethari stared at him for a long moment, taking in his apparent contentment with his decision. “You’re serious. You already told her yes.”

“Mmhm.”

“Without discussing it with me.” Ethari’s voice was flat.

That caught Runaan’s attention. He stopped chewing and looked up, eyes soft. After a moment of contemplation, he tongued his food aside and said around it, “It’s an assassin matter, Ethari. I didn’t feel the need to consult you.”

The spoon returned to Ethari’s porridge bowl with more force than was necessary. “It’s a Rayla matter, Runaan. You’re not the only one looking after her. We should have talked about this before you agreed—”

“I’m barely looking after her at all, Ethari. You talk to her teachers. You help her make her favorite clothes. You cook all her favorite foods. What do I do for her?”

Ethari softened and reached across the nook table. “Runaan, you do plenty. You’ve taught her everything she knows about tracking, defense, fighting... Even Tiadrin’s favorite moves. And she loves you for that. I know she does.”

“Don’t speak her name in this house, Ethari.” Runaan’s eyes flared with warning ice.

Ethari froze with a pang in his heart as Runaan called him out for speaking of the ghosted. How could he just turn off his feelings for one of his best friends like that? “I… I’m sorry. It’s just so new, and it still hurts…”

Runaan picked sesame seeds off his roll with idle fingers, not looking up at Ethari anymore. “The Moon moves forward, Ethari. So must we. We’ve been over this.”

“I can’t move forward like you do, Runaan. You go too fast for me.”

Runaan’s brows drew together for a moment and his hands stilled. “We need to step together on this, Ethari. For Rayla’s sake.”

A small exhalation of pain puffed past Ethari’s lips. “Runaan, I can’t. It hurts too much. Please. Please reconsider what you told Rayla. She’s not ready.”

Runaan sat across from him in perfect stillness. Ethari held his breath—he’d said something perfectly wrong, and now was no time to misstep. Not so soon after Lain and Tiadrin’s ghosting.

Finally, Runaan shifted into motion again. He abandoned his roll and his tea and stood from his chair. “I need to go in. They need to see me in control today.”

He started to walk away without his usual morning farewell. Without any offer to continue a difficult discussion later. Ethari’s heart shivered and squeezed. “Runaan, wait.” He rose and caught Runaan’s hand, lifting it to his lips for a firm kiss while holding Runaan’s gaze.

Those turquoise eyes were hard and guarded, but Runaan did pause and shift closer to Ethari. He leaned a wiry shoulder against Ethari’s thicker one for a warm moment and sighed. Only then did he say what Ethari needed to hear. “We will discuss this later.”

Runaan slipped away, leaving Ethari’s fingers cold.

***

Evening came. Runaan and Rayla talked late into the night while Ethari fretted, pottering about in his workshop, flitting from one project to another, never completing anything. Finally, exhaustion began to set in, and he climbed the ladder to the rooms above and insisted that Rayla get some sleep.

Runaan joined him in their bedroom a few minutes later, and they tucked themselves into bed with hesitant movements. Ethari always hated this part of their discussions, this very first part where they hadn’t touched yet, when they each thought they were right. But he reached out his arms invitingly anyway, and Runaan relaxed atop his chest with his head on Ethari’s shoulder as easily as he always did, snuggling his fingertips beneath Ethari’s far shoulder.

Ethari let his fingers play idly with Runaan’s hair as they began to talk. Surely, surely, he could bring Runaan around. It was just a matter of being soft so Runaan could relax and think with his heart as well as his head.

“How was your day, my shade?” he began.

But Runaan shook his head against Ethari’s shoulder.

Ethari hugged him reassuringly. “They were watching too closely, weren’t they?”

“Always now. It’ll be like that for a while.”

“I’m sorry. How is Rayla?”

“Focused. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“What did you talk about tonight?” Ethari asked lightly, though he already dreaded the answer.

Runaan’s voice dropped low, as if he were trying to emphasize a truth that he knew Ethari wouldn’t care for. “She’s coming in to the arena tomorrow to train with the others.”

Irritation surged in Ethari’s chest. “Runaan, we agreed this morning to discuss this tonight. You shouldn’t go making plans when you know I disagree with you, not when things are this important!”

Runaan raised his head and stared down into Ethari’s eyes. “Ethari, this is what I do. Are you questioning my leadership of the Silvergrove assassins?”

“I… Runaan… she’s fifteen. She’s too young. She’s untested in combat.” Ethari’s hands gently caressed Runaan’s cheeks, hoping to ease him back down against Ethari’s chest.

But Runaan’s eyes glittered, and he tipped his horns warily. “I was there for every moment of her training, Ethari. I know what she can handle.”

Ethari’s soft approach wasn’t working. “She’s not cut out for being an assassin, Runaan. She’s too much like Lain—”

“I asked you not to say their names.”

A tiny flame of defensive anger flared hot in Ethari’s heart. “Well, I can’t let them go as easily as you can, Runaan,” he said stubbornly.

“There was nothing easy about it,” Runaan clipped. “I just have more practice at being hard enough to do whatever it takes than you do.”

Ethari’s brows drew together sharply. “Don’t you dare call me weak. Not right now. Not when you’re giving into your own need for Rayla’s love at the worst possible moment.”

Runaan backed up like a shot, kneeling beside Ethari, pulling the blanket off of Ethari’s chest with his sudden movement. “What do you mean by that?”

Ethari flexed up and leaned forward, reaching for Runaan’s tense arm with a soft hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

Runaan shrugged him off. “Tell me what you meant, Ethari. Are you calling me weak?”

Ethari tightened his hand into a fist and set it in his lap. “You’re not looking at how this is making you feel, my heart. You’re withdrawn, you won’t meet my eyes very often, you’re acting on your own when you know I want to talk things through first. You know I'll try to stop you, and you're trying to head me off. And you’re right. I am trying to stop you.”

A strange look passed over Runaan’s face, of disbelief and something darker—betrayal. “She needs this, Ethari—a chance to set her family’s honor right again. And I’m in the perfect position to give it to her. It’s so clearly destined to be this way. Why would you keep it from her?”

“Runaan. She doesn’t need this. Not this. Not to be dragged to the human lands and told to kill for her parents’ sake. Not to take lives in exchange for being given honor. She doesn’t need those things. But you do. You need her to need them.”

Runaan was retreating—Ethari could feel it. “Don’t oversimplify things, Ethari. There is much more at work here than how I want Rayla to feel about me. The King of the Dragons has been murdered. No one knows what else the humans are planning. They need to be sent a message. One they cannot misunderstand—”

“You didn’t say I was wrong.”

“What?”

Ethari took a deep breath. “I said that taking Rayla along was something you needed. And you didn’t say it wasn’t. Runaan, please. You can complete your mission without Rayla.” His hand quested again for Runaan’s arm.

Runaan let Ethari run his hand down his arm, though he’d tensed up. “I can. But I won’t.”

“Please don’t be stubborn on this. Rayla’s too good-hearted for the work of an assassin. What if she can’t do what you ask of her?” Ethari’s hand slid up to cup Runaan’s cheek. “I don’t want her soft heart to put you all in danger. If she got anyone hurt—if she hurt you—it could break her.”

“Ethari.” Runaan’s hand covered his husband’s. “With Rayla’s parents ghosted, we’re all she has. We need to be there for her, no matter what she wants. And what she wants is to avenge her parents’ honor. She came to me—”

“And you should’ve told her no!”

Runaan froze in the wake of Ethari’s raised voice. His hand stiffened and fell away from Ethari’s, and his face closed down as if it had been swallowed by shadow. Ethari had rarely seen Runaan so cold, and never toward him. It chilled his heart. This was his assassin face, his work face. “It’s decided, Ethari. I lead the assassins. I assign the duty roster. I know Rayla’s skills, and I say she’s ready. I’m taking her to Katolis.”

Ethari gripped Runaan’s bare shoulder. “You know her skills, Runaan, but I know her heart. Please, listen to me—”

“I know her heart too, Ethari.” Runaan’s voice was quiet. “She loves me, and she needs what I can give her.”

“Runaan. My heart. You don’t give. You take.”

Runaan’s eyes lingered on Ethari’s face for a long while before he spoke. Finally, in a faint voice he said, “I’m sorry you find so little value in my profession, my heart. I won’t trouble you for further conversation tonight.”

Ethari sat stunned and lost as Runaan slipped out of bed and padded away, headed for somewhere else to sleep. They’d never failed to resolve their issues before. That was the whole point of waiting to discuss difficult topics until they were all snuggled up. But his foolproof plan had just found its first fool, and it was Ethari.

Ethari sat up with his arms wrapped around his knees for a long time, hoping Runaan would change his mind and come back. But he didn’t. And Ethari knew better than to try to find an assassin in the shadows when he didn’t want to be found.

Runaan settled into a corner of his sparring room with his back against the wall, rested his arms atop his knees and his forehead on his arms, and felt hot tears burning his eyes. Was it so bad to give Rayla exactly what she asked for? Runaan was mostly shadow. Ethari had been his light for years, his compass, his waxing Moon. And until Rayla asked Runaan to allow her on his mission, he had always believed, deep down, that he needed Ethari’s light to be a good Moonshadow. That the light of the Moon was the best expression of Moonshadow-ness. That he had nothing truly good and decent to offer on his own. That the darkness within him was a noble sacrifice for his people, serving no better purpose than to balance the great scales of the world.

But Rayla’s request changed all that. Runaan loved Rayla so much that he would do anything she asked of him, were it within his power to do so. And finally, finally, this was something he could offer her. He was finally of use to her. Finally more than just a stand-in for her parents. Finally more than just a trainer.

Rayla had come to him—not Ethari, not anyone else—him—with the deepest desire of her heart. Runaan would not say no to that show of trust, no matter what.

No matter what.

Runaan wanted so deeply for this to be the way he left his mark on Rayla’s life that his very soul ached for the completion of his mission, just so he could see her smile.

Runaan swiped away his tears and hardened his heart. I don’t need to be light. I am the shadow.

#runaan #ethari #runaan x ethari #runaari fanfic #ruthari week 2020 #ruthari fanfic #tdp fanfic #tdp fanfiction #angst #rayla #moonshadow elves #tdp

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ad1ostoreador · 5 years ago

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>> View the mirthhive mirror...

(...or, a purposeful encounter between @fiduspawn-master and @ad1ostoreador, featuring several counts of awkwardness, an emotional shock, a missing moon, and at least one dragon.)

ad1ostoreador: It didn't take much preparation, for Tavros to be ready to go. A poncho-like cloak, thrown over his folded wings, a small spare bladeleaf-woven basket hooked over one arm, filled with crumbly orange bits of bark chocolate, and an uncertain scratch of the back of his head, before he was inspecting his wrist transportalizer and keying in the right coordinates.

The transportalizer went vworp, with its usual disorienting stutter, and he lifted a hand in greeting, as he appeared on the other side and gave his head a tiny shake to rebalance himself. "Uh.... hey?"

It was hard, sometimes, to know just how timelines would diverge, and what quirks would strike a passer-by as strange... but the amount of color he was wearing, between the poncho and his loose, patterned pants, would likely be quite odd on any Imperial Alternia, especially for a lowblood. The fact that he was stubbornly shoeless, maybe, too, but after sweeps of feeling nothing, he was largely uninterested in having anything between his feet and any possible source of sensation, and running around on a beach and through woods all the time for the past months had done quite a lot to toughen them up, post-pupation. Adult pupation itself had left him well over six feet tall, with hide darker than wiggler-gray, both from frequent sun (freckling included) and from chitin reinforcing it, and his eyes had long since filled in bronze. His hair was a bit shaggy on the sides of his mohawk, in the absence of a recent shave, and showed hints of lighter bronze in streaks through the black, there.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros spent the few minutes it would take for the other Tavros to arrive nervously tidying things around his hive. He was naturally a very fastidious troll, but it was a hard thing to keep up all the time in his condition. He was putting his dishes away when he heard the noise he now recognized as a visitor appearing just outside his hive.

The wind was still racing in from the sea, its constant whisper joined by the creaking of the windmill turning high above and the roar of the waves crashing against the cliffs. A few hop and cluckbeasts that had scattered in fear at the strange phenomenon were starting to wander back as Tavros opened the door to greet--

Oh man. He looked up at the familiar, unfamiliar figure standing in front of his hive. It was like looking in a mirthhive mirror. Seeing an adult was still somewhat alarming in and of itself, (even though he was basically an adult himself) And seeing one that was post molt was even more wild, not to mention one that was kind of him...

This might actually be weirder than meeting Bull...

He was staring- "Uhhhhh, H-hi!" He raised a hand in a stiff, awkward wave. "Do you, Want to come in?" that wasn't a great question.

ad1ostoreador: The location might have been starkly different from his own long-ago hive, but the creaking of the windmill was familiar, bone-deep, and left him awash in a curious mix of nostalgia and wrong-footedness, mixed as it was with the alien smell of the sea. The scent was somehow very different from the ocean he lived beside, at present... some difference in the blend of minerals, or in the things living and growing in it, and it took Tavros a moment to remember how to answer, with his communing-sense flickering out automatically to touch and catalog beasts he hadn't encountered in sweeps on end.

"Um...." A slow blink, and then an awkward little grin, as he faced the other troll. "Yeah, sorry... I just... forgot what Alternia felt like.... It's been a... long time." He lifted the basket a little, and moved nearer, but none too quickly. Better to give his alternate room to steer clear of the doorway, first. It was strange, too, how much smaller his wigglerhood hive felt than it once had, to him. He'd visited occasional memories of it, back in the dreambubbles, but none since he'd grown to his present size, and this was real, with a sense of weight and solidity around his horns that the bubbles had never really managed to achieve.

fiduspawn-master: Possibly the biggest visual difference was the quality of light. The pink moon above was not overshadowed by a green neighbor, having only its moonlet for company. It cast the world in softer, warmer hues.

There was an impressive variety of local beasts in the area, including at least a dozen fairy bulls and an assortment of unfamiliar, synthetic beasts, fiduspawn or fakespawn presumably.

"Oh, You're fine! Take your time!" Tavros reassured him, deftly rolling back and to the side as he pulled the door open more for him. The doorframe was accommodatingly wide and a couple of the antlered hopbeasts slipped inside before the new guest had reached the door.

Inside was one large open room, with a nutrition area to one side and many windows and low tables against the opposite wall. Half of them had the curtains drawn already, and there were wide paths around everything, and not a lot of chairs.

"Uhm, The pot's in the kitchen, and, I can go grab the thing I made for Gamzee, If you, Uhh, Give me a second,,," Tav said from behind him, shutting the door carefully, mindful of critters slipping in or out.

There were two fairy bulls perching around the nutrition area, though one was weird and shiny and definitely a robot. Both of them jingled in alarm at the stranger and darted towards their ward to hover protectively around him. "Oh, Uhm, Sorry, They're still not used to other trolls being here, And, That being okay..." Tav apologized as he reached out to bring the flesh and blood lusus out of the air and into his lap, petting it soothingly.

ad1ostoreador: Honestly, he hadn't even registered the green moon's absence, perhaps assuming it was still beyond the horizon. Tavros moved forward, stepping on through the door, and froze as his gaze landed on the living fairy bull, breath hitching as if he'd just been surprise-punched in the gut.

Right. Of course Tink was alive, here. Of course he was prepared for that. (He wasn't.)

"....Yeah, of course they, uh... wouldn't..." Tavros murmured, a little weakly, and tore his eyes off the lusus who didn't recognize him, looking down at the basket he held. "...Where should I, um... put this?" He struggled for a casual tone, swallowing.

fiduspawn-master: Tav's fingers brushed his own brow as he sent brief reassurance to the small lusi, both calming down immediately. "Oh, you can leave it in the kitchen, I'll be right back!" He pivoted and rolled off towards the back of the room and down a hallway, disappearing for a minute and leaving the other Tavros alone in the space. A hopbeast sniffed his foot curiously as some other critters moved about the room, including one's he'd made himself. There was a tank on one of the low tables where the colorful newest project was swimming around contentedly.

Tavros would return a couple of minutes later, flanked by the two fairybulls and holding a small parcel wrapped in a scrap of blue gingham fabric. "Uhm, Here it is!"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros gave a small nod, not looking up, and took a deep breath or two as his counterpart rolled down the hall. The hive layout was... partially the same, and partially not. Definitely less cluttered than his own, at six sweeps, and it looked more... purposeful, somehow. Widened, maybe, with more convenient paths to wheel through.

He moved into the nutrition-block area, and set the little basket on a counter, within easy reach of the edge. The borrowed pot, he saw, and held awkwardly for a moment before remembering his sylladex--it wouldn't work, back home, but here, it made a decent place to stash things out of his graspers. Then, the curious hopbeast got a gentle head-scritching, between the antlers.

When his alternate returned, he turned around and straightened up to accept the offered parcel, still not quite daring to look at either the fairy bull or the robotic version. "Thanks... I'll, um, pass it on to him, and let him know..."

fiduspawn-master: There were a few low ramps in the nutrition area, in front of the counters and prongtrap and the crisprange so that they were reachable. Everything was otherwise uncomfortably low for an upright troll as tables had been modified for the hivedweller's convenience.

Tav held the parcel up to his guest, rolling back a bit once he'd taken it so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look up at him. The normal fairy bull had alighted on the counter near the familiar stranger's elbow and was leaning over to carefully sniff him, its breath tickling his skin.

"Yes, Okay, Uhm, Tell him I hope he gets better soon I guess..." He smoothed his hands anxiously over the thick blanket wrapped around his legs. "Uhhhh... Is this, Weird for you too?"

ad1ostoreador: "He's... Gamzee's good. It's just... he's got a thing, right now, where he's... not wanting to go off-planet." A thing that Tavros wasn't entirely ready to think too hard about, just yet, for assorted reasons. "I'll tell him, though..."

His fingers twitched and curled a little more by his side in an almost-flinch, where the fairy bull was sniffing his arm, and he looked over at a tinted window instead, nodding a couple of times, rapidly. "...Yeah. It's... pretty weird. I can't, uh... actually remember the last time I met another... living version of us, face to face." A weak smile.

"It's good, though... I'm glad." It was a rare enough occasion that he thought it was pretty special. Someone else who'd managed to survive the worst Alternia could throw at them, instead of ending up just another blank-eyed ghost of a dead kid no one really bothered to consider. Tavros shifted his stance slightly, folded wings rustling under the poncho and skimming the floor behind his feet at their tips as he weighed the option of sitting down on a ramp against the logistics of trying to arrange his wings somewhere without knocking over or breaking anything important behind him. "How are you, uh... doing, though? With... alts, and timelines, and everything..."

fiduspawn-master: Tav's brow pinched a bit with worry. "Uhm, Yeah, I think he mentioned some stuff to me... Yeah..." He didn't elaborate, it wasn't his place. He reached up awkwardly to rub the back of his neck as his alternate self agreed about the weirdness, blanching a bit when he mentioned 'living versions' "Oh... Oh man... You've seen-?" That sounded terrible, seeing his own corpse... "Uhm, Yeah I guess." He tried to return the smile, giving Tink a glance as they flew up to hover around the other Tavros' head, jingling softly.

His ears twitched as he herd the rustling of wings and noticed his guest fidgeting "Oh! Uhm, Do you want to sit down? I have a loungeplank!" He said, quickly backing up and spinning around to the other side of the big, open block. There was indeed a mostly unused loungeplank shoved back against the wall across from a row of windows, a skylight letting in the moonlight from above through a heavy tint. There was a screen on the third wall and another low table with a half dozen stacks of fiduspawn cards he'd been organizing, along with his old, beat up husktop. He quickly cleared a stack of host plushes off of the couch, dumping them off to one side for now and turning back towards his guest. "Oh, uhm, well... Its- Uhhhh." He broke eyecontact, hands coming together to twist the ring around one of his thumbs. "its... different... from normal..."

ad1ostoreador: "...Ghosts, and stuff, mostly. A little different from, uh... the type Aradia used to call up, though... in a place where they all sort of, um.... hung around and didn't remember they were dead, usually." Or that he'd visited before. Or much of anything, outside of whatever set of memories or pan misfirings they'd gotten hung up on going through the motions of repeating, over and over and over.

The offer of a loungeplank made him shrug slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck one-handed. "Is it okay if I, uhh... pull it away from the wall a bit? I'll put it back, after..." The ring on Tavros's thumb caught his eye, unfamiliar as the accessory was to him, but he didn't pry. "...Yeah... it's definitely different, for sure." It was still hard to look at Tink, and he couldn't bear communing with the lusus, at all. He'd have thought four sweeps would dull the edges there, some.

fiduspawn-master: "Oh, Right, Wow..." He'd always thought ghosts were pretty spooky, and he'd only seen Aradia conjure them up once. He didn't really want to think about himself being... like that.

"Yeah! Of course! Whatever you need!" He replied quickly "Here!"

He rolled over to one side of the loungeplank, grabbing the corner and bracing his other hand against the wall, pushing it forward a few feet pretty easily, if unevenly.

"Uhm, Yeah, It's been... A lot... I think maybe I'm not dealing with it that great..." he mumbled, looking into the dark space behind the loungeplank as a trio of sleepy eyes blinked back at him. He rolled backwards to let the soothcoon waddle out from its nap spot.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros moved to heft the other end of the loungeplank, scooting it easily forward to leave clearance for his wings, and pausing to chirp a quiet greeting-noise at the soothcoon, with a touch of apology for disturbing it.

"I... think, probably, it would be hard for anyone to, uh... deal with it wonderfully, all things considered. Even for those of us who played the game, because it was dumb and awful... ....So... it's okay to be kind of... rattled, about it all, yeah?" He trailed off, then carefully took a crooked seat on the loungeplank, wings draped over the back and down to the floor behind it at an angle.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros turned to situate himself on the other side of the table, his hands smoothing distractedly over the blanket wrapped around his legs again as he looked around the floor. "I'm not really sure if 'rattled' is the word that I would use, Or that even all of the crazy other timeline versions of people I knew are, Uhh, the thing that I'm not handling well..." he admitted, his fangs digging at his lower lip a little. "I mean, I think that I can just kind of accept that that's a thing, since, I've known for a sweep by now..."

The robotic fairy bull was still perched on the back of his chair while the other had landed on the back of the couch, directing a tiny moo in their guest's directions, the naturally affectionate creature demanding attention.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros worried at his own lip a little, with a fang, sneaking a glance toward the living fairy bull and twisting his own fingers together in his lap, slowly, until his knuckles paled. "...No? What part is, uh... messing with you, then?"

fiduspawn-master: The small lusus fluttered its eyelashes at him and mooed again, fluttering its wings with a little jingle as well, practically begging for a pet.

"Uhhh.... It's, Probably not important... And, Also kind of hard to articulate. And, Maybe kind of terrible?" He winced as he bit his lip a little too hard, starting to fidget with the ring around his thumb again. "Sorry, You probably don't want to talk about this..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros took another deep, slightly shaky breath, and fought down any pathetic grub-noises before they could slip out, very carefully reaching up and giving the fairy bull a gentle pet.

"...I mean... it's not fair to you, if parts of all this are messing you up. So... maybe if you can, uh, articulate at least some of it, you might feel kind of better?"

fiduspawn-master: They were ecstatic! Nuzzling his palm and licking his fingers as they jingled happily.

Tavros nearly mimicked his alter's shaky breath, his claws tapping against his ring "Uhm... I guess there are just, Some feelings I've been having, That, I'm not used to having..." he mumbles, shrugging slightly.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros stared into an indistinct spot somewhere near the middle of the floor while the lusus licked his fingers and nuzzled on his hand, his eyes gone a little bit glassy, but managed to keep his voice largely level, if somewhat quieter than usual. "...I don't want to, um... assume things. About you, or feelings that happen to you... even if I kind of, uhh... suspect that maybe we had some of the same... problems, relating to that general, uh, area of experiences..."

fiduspawn-master: Well, maybe, if anyone could understand, without thinking he was just really terrible, it would be another version of himself, maybe... He finally looked up at him to respond before noticing his expression and stopping. "Uhm, Are you, Okay?" He asked, concerned.

The lusus still looked pleased as punch to be pet, its little tail whipping back and forth.

ad1ostoreador: He bit his lip again, and looked up, almost guiltily jerking his hand back to his lap, with a quick rub of the other hand over his eyes. "....yeah. I'm okay. It's fine..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros frowned, tilting his head slightly as the lusus mooed in disappointment "Uhm, Okay, But, No, I don't think that you are?"

ad1ostoreador: A few beats of silence passed, and then Tavros managed--"...I wasn't... expecting to see..." He jerked his head slightly in the direction of the lusus. "...that's all. It's dumb, and I should have... expected. I'm okay."

fiduspawn-master: His brows furrowed in confusion. "To see a fairy bull? Uhm... Oh, Right, I guess there must not be any in the place that you live... Uhm, I can ask him to go in the other room, If you want" He offered.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros hesitated, then shook his head, though a tiny part of him wanted to nod, instead, and another part wanted to maybe just curl up in a hole. "No.... no. It's okay... really. It's just been a long time. You were, uh.... you were saying?"

fiduspawn-master: He wasn't totally convinced, sending a brief thought to the fairy bull to not bother their guest. Reluctantly they fluttered down to the other side of the couch and sat down, pouting a little bit. "Oh, Uhm, I don't know. We don't really have to talk about it..." His alter looked upset and distracted, and he didn't want to make him more uncomfortable or bother him about his problems...

ad1ostoreador: Frankly, a distraction from the shitty ache behind his eyes and missing his own lusus would be welcome. He rubbed at the ring in his own nose, briefly, and let out a tiny breath. "....like I said, I don't want to, um... assume things, which could be wrong, if you don't... want to say anything. But... you don't have to."

fiduspawn-master: He sighed faintly and fiddled with his ring again, looking off towards the windows. "Well... I guess I have just gotten pretty used to the only feeling I felt being loneliness? Which, Was really pretty terrible, But also, Familiar...?" He trailed off a moment, one hand squeezing into a fist. "Now, There are people to talk to and, Uhhh, Watch, Live their lives, Doing important things and, Uhm, Having friends that care about them a lot, And, It has just been making me have a lot of feelings about everything, And, It feels like it was easier, To just be lonely, But, Also, Somehow, I feel even more lonely than I did before?" He swallowed, looking down as his hair flopped forward into his face, his hands kneading together hard. "Uhm, Sorry, That probably sounds pretty dumb, And, Terrible..."

ad1ostoreador: "No, I... I get it." Tavros cleared his throat a little, fingers back to being laced together in his lap. "...Being in the Furthest Ring alone was... really lonely. And in some ways it... felt even worse to go online, and see everyone just... busy and happy with all their own, uh, lives, and stuff, and people they actually cared about..."

fiduspawn-master: He finally looked up at his alter again as he spoke, nodding a little with a small sniff "Yeah, That is, Pretty much it exactly..." he huffed, reaching up to push his hair back into place again. "I, Don't really know what to do about it, Or, If it would be better to just... Not go online..."

ad1ostoreador: "...It's not easy. And sometimes the bad times like that just keep happening over again, when it's extra, uh, hard, and lonely, and everything is awful. But... if you stay away from everyone, and you don't meet anyone, or talk to anyone.... you won't get any of the good times, then, when it doesn't feel that way, and when you can believe that people would notice, if you... weren't online." It was possibly a cycle Tavros had been through multiple times, himself.

fiduspawn-master: His hand stayed in his hair, twisting it between his fingers some as he tried to get the lump out of his throat, making it hard to breathe. "You, Uhm, Really think that it could be like that for me?" he huffed, looking down a the blanket over his legs. "For me?"

ad1ostoreador: "I think, definitely so. And... I think that trolls aren't... meant to be all alone. We... need other people, more than that... even with all the dumb Imperial stuff, trying to draw lines between everybody and keep them apart..." Tavros echoed the faint 'huff', with a small shake of his head.

fiduspawn-master: Tav fidgeted a bit at the empire talk, shifting a little in his chair and shrugging "I mean, I wouldn't be alone if I wasnt-... I could- could have, Made other friends, And, Uhm, known people... I could have tried..." Maybe he shouldn't be defending the empire here, but it was kind of his fault for being a cripple. "I wouldn't have gotten stuck in being lonely, I don't think..."

ad1ostoreador: "...It's not 'could have'... it's 'can'," Tavros pointed out, glancing up from his own fingers then. "Only, without the part where V--she, uh, ruins everything, always. There's... lots of options, you know? Even if you haven't always... had some of those options, before now."

fiduspawn-master: His fingers fisted tight in the blanket in his lap at the mere mention. "Yeah." he huffed with a scowl before sighing again "Yeah... I guess, It will only be too late if I stop trying... It's... Hard though. It still kind of feels like I'm too late, And, Not ready, At the same time..."

ad1ostoreador: "....Used to feel sometimes like everyone was... busy finding all their serendipity back before I even, uh, knew the site everyone uses now was a thing that existed. Like I was... just too late to ever be anything important, to anyone, even as a friend..." Tavros said, a little too off-handedly. Sometimes it still felt that way, except for Gamzee, but he usually tried to remind himself that that was probably the horrible gray creep of depression talking, and not actual reality. "..But don't stop trying, is the point, mostly. Like you, uh, said, it's not too late unless you quit trying..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros nodded slowly as he listened. Yes, that was pretty much exactly how he felt about it. Maybe though, if another version of himself could overcome it, (albeit, a way cooler more interesting and less broken version of himself, but, that wasn't a helpful thought to have) Then maybe he could too.

"Yeah, Okay... Thank you. Uhm, I'm glad that you understand, Even though, I'm also sorry that you understand..."

ad1ostoreador: "It's... one of the good things, I think, about there being... so many versions of so many worlds, out there... the odds are probably, um, pretty good that somebody understands just about anything... yeah?" He tried for a small and crooked smile, shrugging.

fiduspawn-master: Tav mirrored the lopsided smile with another small nod. "Heh, Yeahhh... Uhm... Sorry, Things got kind of heavy. I hope this visit hasn't just been really terrible." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck again awkwardly. "Maybe, If you ever wanted to come by again, We could do something actually fun?"

ad1ostoreador: "It's fine, really... and, that would be a thing that we could, uh, do... or... you could come visit our planet, sometime, if you wanted?" Beach sand might not agree with wheels, so well, but the 'social' hive had smooth, solid floors and lots of open space to maneuver. "I think you would like to meet the, uhh, oggos a lot..."

Tavros couldn't help one more furtive glance over at the small lusus at the other end of the couch, and swallowed.

fiduspawn-master: "Oh, Yes! Uhm, Gamzee mentioned there were new kinds of beasts there, And it sounded really beautiful also!" He brightened up a bit at the idea, his hands relaxing in his lap. "That would be fun."

The fairy bull had curled up once it became clear it was going to be ignored by the new troll, and was dozing off, shimmery wings folded down against its back. "Uhm... Do you want to take some with you?" Tav asked, seeing him eyeing the lusus again. "There's, Uhh, A good sized herd around right now, You could probably take enough to start breeding them, If you wanted." He was still working under the assumption that he simply missed the general presence of fairy bulls.

ad1ostoreador: For a moment, he froze, then slowly shook his head. "...I think... it would just, um, make me think more about missing mine, probably... a lot." He shut his eyes briefly. "...How did you, uh, get a robot fairy bull, anyway?"

fiduspawn-master: He bit his lip and nodded a little "Yeah, Okay, Sorry. It is definitely always really hard when they die, I can't imagine there not being more to come and replace them..." he mumbled before glancing back at the shiny white fairybot. "Oh, Uhm, That was, Uhh, Bull. He kind of changed the one that was taking care of me, So that they could always be monitoring me, and, the thing that he did to make my legs not be hurting pretty much all of the time, Since, I didn't want any of the robot stuff to be in my sponge..." He patted the fairybot a little more tentatively "I guess that it's okay, Since, They still are happy.”

ad1ostoreador: Tavros was very quiet, for a few more beats, and then quirked a quarter-smile that mostly looked like it hurt. "There was just... the one, for me. When I was younger. He... always acted like he missed other fairy bulls, but... there weren't any more wild ones nearby, not for leagues and leagues... and nobody rust was allowed more than one lusus. Even if they were... really small."

The thought of anyone just being changed that way, even a lusus, still made something roll over unsettled in his stomach, but he let out a breath. "...I'm glad he, uh... helped your legs not hurt."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros frowned as his alter spoke, his ears drooping. "Oh man... I'm so sorry, That must have been, Really hard..." he mumbled, his eyes wandering to Tinkerbull as he twisted the ring around his finger. "Uhm, Yeah, I'm glad too, And that, That is all that he did, Also..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros couldn't help a small, wry, but real-er smile, at that. "Yeah... He really, um, likes the... robot stuff. But... he won't do it, if you remind him not to..." He shrugged slightly. "And if you don't want to, uh... be like that."

fiduspawn-master: "Yeahhhh... He was really sorry for, Uhm, Freaking me out afterwards. He just, Really wanted to help... I think, That I just don't want to not be me..." His jaw tightened slightly as his hands smoothed back over his blanket "Even if, Me, Isn't as cool or smart, Or, Really confident, As I guess he could have made me..." He trailed off, eyes downcast.

ad1ostoreador: "I think... for him, he didn't feel like himself until he went all... robot. So... he has a hard time, maybe, understanding people who don't feel like themselves because they've been made a robot...." Tavros added, quietly.

"...He does try really hard to help, though. And... I think you are already pretty cool, and smart, what with being all, uh... an illegal rebel, hiding on-planet, and... building fakespawn, and stuff that I don't have any idea how to do, but you do it really well. And... the fact that you are still alive, when... most everything on Alternia is designed to, um, try to prevent that. And you're away from her..." Which was a big thing, all by itself.

fiduspawn-master: He huffed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair again. "Uhmmm, I don't know, About all of that stuff... But, I don't really need to be anything special..." He gave a half hearted shrug "I think that I will just probably always be the same, Until..." He trailed off again before shaking his head, finally looking up at his alt with a strained laugh "Hah, Wow, This is all pretty depressing to talk about! Uhm, We could definitely probably be talking about things that are not that!"

ad1ostoreador: From where Tavros was standing, it already looked like a few major changes, from the pupa they'd once been. He didn't argue the point further, though, just giving his head a little shake. "Sorry... you should definitely, um, come visit sometime soon, though." He had the beginnings of the inklings of an idea, even.

fiduspawn-master: "It's okay! And, Yes! I think I would like that a lot, If you guys felt like it." he said as he kept up the smile a little more naturally. "I can't wait to try the chocolate you brought also, I can't remember the last time I got to have any!"

ad1ostoreador: "It's like... a tree-fungus, where we are. It grows on their stemrinds, on certain types... and it tastes just like chocolate. Not the, uh, over-sweet candy type hivestem stuff, but the real stuff." Tavros might have been rambling a little, for the sake of a topic that didn't sting. "I use it in, um... hot cocoa, and spicy huskbean stew, and some other things..."

fiduspawn-master: "Oh wow! That sounds like an amazing thing to have grow where you live! Hah, Man, I don't have a lot of stuff to make spicy food with, I wish I was better at cooking fancy stuff..." he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

ad1ostoreador: "I don't know that anything I make is, uh, fancy... it's all just... country, um, warmblood type food, but..." It was still a conscious effort, for Tavros, to remember to say 'warm' and not 'low', sometimes. To avoid sliding back into old, Alternian habits, like they might inadvertently stain their new planet with the leavings of the old. But he was trying. Gamzee was more of a stickler about it than he, even. "We're not that far into the cool season, I think... but for now, there's lots of food to find, still."

fiduspawn-master: "I'm glad to hear that! I have been, Uhhh, Saving a lot of food. I dug out a whole nutrition cellar last sweep, After the drones managed to damage my windmill, And, I lost power for, Like, A perigee, And all my food went bad..." He shook his head again and shrugged "But, I have learned a lot about preserving food now, And, I have plenty of it stored up for the dim season!" he continued cheerily. "It was definetly worth all the work, Heh."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded, brow furrowing at the tale. "Oh... no. Do you, um, have enough power back now, I hope...?" He looked up.

"We, uh... had to kind of learn some things suddenly. About preserving fish. These... whartlebeasts came through our, uh, bay, and I think they were just migrating, but.... they feed by crowding everything up into the shallows, and just taking big gulps as they go by. So... we had fish flopping up on the beach, fish all over the place... and the oggos were, uh... having a very... messy blast with it all. " He snorted a half-laugh. "...We started smoking excess fish, then. Or it would have just... stunk everything up terribly."

fiduspawn-master: He nodded "Oh, Yeah! The power cells are all full up after the storm last light! I, Uhh, Wish I could get more to store more power, For emergencies, But, That would be kind of hard." he admitted.

He smiled at the mental image of all the beasts, laughing with his alt and grinning "Hah, That sounds so fun! And a great way to get a lot of food, Heh,"

ad1ostoreador: "Definitely... I mean, raking the sand clean after it all wasn't fun, but... feeling the whartles was... sort of like with skywhales, only all heavy and rough-shelled, and staying in the water, and just, um, thinking deep cool thoughts, as they paddle along..." He raked a hand through his shaggy hair.

"I'm sure there's people online who, um, would trade more power cells, for something you can make, or else find, around here..."

fiduspawn-master: His eyes sparkled as he smiled wide, imagining the unfamiliar beasts. "Wow!!! I hope I get to see them, If I come over, Heheh,"

He leaned back in his chair, looking to his husktop on the table "Uhm, Yeah, It's been kind of hard to trade for things that are that big and heavy, And, Also expensive...."

ad1ostoreador: "I don't... know much about that kind of thing, really, but there are definitely people who can find that stuff." He shifted his wings a little, with a crickety, papery rustle. "You, uh... said that drones broke the windmill, before? How did... that happen? I mean... without them doing worse...."

fiduspawn-master: "Uhhh, I think that it was just really unlucky? Since, They came in the day, And, No beasts spotted them coming until it was too late. They managed to tear off two of the blades before I could organize enough beasts to fend them off. Usually, They will leave a hive alone if it seems to have become a, Uhm, Lusus den..." That had been a very difficult few perigees, with no power and not much food, having to work all night every night to rebuild the windmill, and then to dig a nutrition cellar after that. The beasts had helped of course, but there was only so much that they could do...

ad1ostoreador: Tavros grimaced slightly. He might have been off Alternia for sweeps, but the prospect of fending off determined drones with stray lusii and wild beasts was none too appealing. "...It's good that you were able to, uh... drive them away, before they did more than that... and that you were able to fix it, and do all that work, after..."

fiduspawn-master: He nodded solemnly before smiling with a small chuckle "There have not been a lot of fly bys for the last couple of perigees though, I think I have managed to mostly, Uhhh, scare them off from this area!" His smile spread into a big, slightly smug grin. "I managed to find a beast that they will always steer clear of!!"

ad1ostoreador: "Good... good. That's... definitely better than the alternative." Tavros's ears flicked, cupping curiously towards him. "Oh yeah? What kind of, um, beasts will they stay away from, around here?"

fiduspawn-master: He leaned forward a bit in his chair, coppery eyes sparkling with excitement "Do you want to see?? You have to promise not to look, Though, Or to feel for them either! It will be a really cool surprise that way!!"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded slowly, a mixture of anticipation and puzzlement on his features. It was hard to rein in his automatic level of communing and then deliberately try not to think about it, though. Harder yet to not think about the thing he was supposed to not think about. "Uhhh..." He tried shutting his eyes, and just focusing on the sleepy soothcoon and the flittering, too-familiar feel of the fairy bull in the vicinity, instead. "...Okay..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros giggled, giddy as he turned to the wall of windows, putting a hand to his temple briefly to focus and find the beast he was seeking. They were pretty far away, but that didn't matter, it would only take a couple of minutes for them to get here. In the meantime he tugged at the blackout curtains to reveal the open, rolling fields outside, the wind still making the grass ripple like waves. He could feel them approaching, and he turned to go back to his alt, grabbing one of his hands to guide him over to the window "Here! They're about to land!"

A shadow blocked out the rosy moonlight for a moment before with a heavy thud, a gleaming, white dragon, nearly the size of a galleon, landed in the grass just outside. "Tadh! Heh, This, Is my new friend, Who has scared away most of the drones!" Tavros announced, throwing out an arm towards the huge lusus. “Uhh, Here." Reaching out, he pulled open one of the windows which was actually a door. "You want to meet them?"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros kept his eyes shut, even when he was tugged closer to the window, until his counterpart called out. Then.... Oh. That was... that was an actual real live adult dragon, of a sort he'd never encountered on his own Alternia, Terezi's sleeping unhatched lusus notwithstanding. For a moment, he could almost taste an echo of the smell of burning tissue, but it wasn't real and it wasn't here and nobody was creep-crawling through his pan. And that was a dragon.

"....Yes... uhh, yes, can I?" The question was half to his alternate, and half to the massive creature itself. It was only proper to be polite, of course, when meeting someone new.

fiduspawn-master: On closer inspection, although large, the dragon was still technically an adolescent, its eyes still sealed shut though a dull red glow was visible through the lids. By way of answer Tavros simply wheeled out the door ahead of his alt and moved to the side.

The dragon turned its massive head towards both of them, nostrils flaring as it sniffed them out. It- she, was friendly, if a little aloof, showing a little more interest in the winged stranger than the one who'd called her.

ad1ostoreador: "...She's beautiful," he breathed, stepping out the door and shrugging his poncho off with a quick slip of a fastening that let him spread his wings and give them a flick or two to stretch. He approached the dragon, fearlessly, to be sniffed to any degree she liked, and reached up to scritch gently along a seam of fine scales on her jaw.

"I bet even the drones definitely, uh, don't really want to pick a fight with her, do they...?" Tavros paused, gazing up at the dragon's bulk. "...Was she Terezi's? Or...?"

fiduspawn-master: "Heh, Yeah," he agreed with a smile that faltered when he looked to his alt and saw him shrugging off the poncho he'd been wearing, seeing the wings in person for the first time. Oh... That was a little worse than a mirthhive mirror. He wanted to look away but he also didn't.

The dragon lowered her head, longer than a troll was tall, giving Tavros a more thorough sniffing. An uncomfortable heat radiated from her closed eyes and she generally kept them angled away from both trolls so they wouldn't be seared by the proximity. Her scales were hot too, at least on her head, almost too hot to touch.

Tav was still staring at his alt, only snapping out of it when addressed "Oh! Uhmm, I kind of think that she probably was, Since, They are so rare, It is pretty likely, But, She is kind of, uhhh, Cagey, About information regarding herself..."

ad1ostoreador: He kept the touch light and careful, skimming shy of burning his fingers on the heat of the dragon's scales. "I don't know how, uh, fast they grow, after hatching..." It was hard to tell, with some of the megafauna. Some would shoot up in a couple of seasons... others just inched larger incrementally from sweep to sweep. "She feels... strong. How long ago did you meet her...?"

fiduspawn-master: "I'm not sure either, But, I don't think she's too old..." He stayed back a bit, letting his alter interact with the magnificent beast on his own. "Uhm, Maybe six perigees ago? She was just, Flying along the coast, And I brought her in to get to know her a little bit... She has been coming to help me with the drones every now and then since then..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros looked from the dragon to his alternate, and back, not speaking for a moment. Like any psi-active troll, if his powers were pushed hard enough, even his eyes would visibly glow... but for a mere touch of mental communication exchanged with the beast, in the form of a polite query, the flicker was so muted and brief that it would pass unseen. Had she ever flown with a passenger? And more importantly, would the gracious lady be willing to?

fiduspawn-master: She returned an affirmative, followed by the mental equivalent of a nonchalant shrug. Not opposed.

Tavros noticed his alt looking between him and the dragon, simply raising an eyebrow. "Uhhh..."

ad1ostoreador: He grinned then, fangy and bright. "...Have you, uhh, gone flying with her, before?"

fiduspawn-master: His eyes widened "Oh, Uhm, Like, Riding her? No I, Definitely haven't done that..." He looked to the dragon's imposing bulk and, yeah, that would have been a bit of a climb to get up there, and those claws were maybe a bit too sharp to safely hold a troll...

ad1ostoreador: "Then... that is a thing we are going to do, because I can definitely help you get up there, and also back down again," Tavros announced, beaming... then hesitated. "If... if you want to, I mean...?"

fiduspawn-master: His mouth hung open a moment as he looked at his alter, and then the dragon. "O-oh, I-... Yeah, I, I think that I would like that..." he said, a little quietly, giving him a nervous smile.

ad1ostoreador: Good. It just wasn't right, somehow, for any of their bloodline to be entirely ground-bound. He moved forward, coaxing and coordinating with the dragon to lower her stance, to position one foreleg just so, outstretched for potential support, and reached out to offer his alternate both hands, for a solid forearm-to-forearm-locked grip. His wings spread wider and tilted against a gust of the sea wind, and a strange, faint, smaller set of rust-orange phantom wings shimmered into being with them, almost like a flapstraction's holographic overlay. There was a hint of blue shimmer at the edges of his clothes, too, but his actual, real clothing stayed firmly where it belonged. (He really was emphatically not a fan of his godtier's default cut, or of having that much of his legs exposed, even sweeps and a pupation after the fact.)

"What I can do, is lift you up over her shoulder, and, uh, set you down between her neck-ridges. Slowly. Okay...?"

fiduspawn-master: He watched for a second as his guest conversed with the dragon before jolting slightly in realization, looking down at his lap. Oh, this probably wouldn't work, how could he keep them wrapped up? He didn't want him to have to see-- not after Bull's reaction had been so bad. Dang it, why did he have to prefer the comfort and convenience of shorts? He was so preoccupied he totally missed his alter's subtle transformation, rolling his chair backwards towards the door again. "Uhhhhh, Do you think, You could maybe, Uhm, Wait a couple of minutes? Uhh, Sorry, I just, Have to do something really quick!"

ad1ostoreador: "Okay, uh... no problem. No rush." Tavros lowered his hands again, no longer braced to lift off, and instead rubbed the back of his own neck, then raked his hair out of his eyes, where the wind had blown it around wildly.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros retreated quickly inside, emerging after a few minutes, blanket discarded and long pants donned. There was still a hint of, visible mishapenness to them, but the pants were baggy enough to hide most of it.

He rolled back over to his alter, smiling awkwardly "Uhh, Hey, Sorry about that, I'm ready now I guess?"

ad1ostoreador: Well, it wasn't as though Tavros would judge his alternate for the shape his legs were in... he just had lingering sensitivities about his own. This time, he sprang up off the ground to get his wings beating fast enough to hover, as he would have to back on his own planet, then furrowed his brow, dipped closer to Tavros's chair, and offered his hands again, as the weird holo-overlay wing effect remained perfectly, ornamentally still, and his flight steadied from a hover into something more like a gravity-free float. Godtier nonsense and physics were not always on the best of terms, and occasionally resulted in the latter presumably throwing its metaphorical hands up and wandering away for a stiff drink.

"Here..."

fiduspawn-master: No longer distracted, he watched his other self take to the air, making it look so, natural and effortless, then, maybe a little unnatural, but still effortless.

Swallowing, he nodded and reached up to firmly grasp his arm, letting himself be pulled out of his chair. He still winced, even though he knew it wouldn't hurt, it was just a hard habit to break at this point.

ad1ostoreador: It was slow. Easier than it should have been, even as the muscles in Tavros's arms went taut and he lifted them, as smoothly as a balloon drifting up from the chair and angling upwards along the dragon's shoulder, dangling feet not skimming her scales, but barely above them. He stopped, when his alternate was suspended neatly over the notch in her neckridges, then carefully, carefully hovered him lower, prepared to hold his weight up one-armed if need be until the other troll had gotten his legs arranged to his satisfaction.

"...All set?" Given the affirmative, he would lower him the last few inches, to settle his weight there safely.

fiduspawn-master: He clung to his alter's arm, pulling his legs up a bit to keep them from just dangling as he was airlifted over to the dragon's back and gently lowered down. The scales were still hot but not burning like they were on her head, and he settled himself, reaching forward to hold on tightly to one of the neck ridges and looking up at Tavros with a nod. "Yeah, I'm good I think..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros grinned, broad and pleased, and went from that odd drifting float to wing-buzzing flight again, lifting higher against a gust of wind and hovering near the dragon's head as he called her to take to the sky. "Hang on, okay?"

fiduspawn-master: He didn't need to be told twice, bracing himself and connecting to the dragon in order to anticipate her movements and better keep balance. She sensed his readiness, standing and turning away from his hive to face the cliffs, starting at a trot to gain speed. The trot turned to a gallop as her wings spread, tilting to catch the wind as they launched themselves off of the high cliff and took to the air.

Tavros was hanging on for dear life, the ride quite bumpy while she was still on the ground. His stomach flipped as she jumped, his breath catching in his throat as the ride turned into a soaring sensation. He finally managed to gasp before letting out a whoop, laughing and hanging on as she tilted upwards to start gaining altitude with mighty wingbeats.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros angled for an updraft and soared higher, circling above the massive sweep of her wings to keep an eye on his alternate and a light thread of communing-sense on the dragon... nothing harsh enough to vie with her rider's. "Isn't it great?" he called, hands cupped to his mouth to carry over the wind. There was nothing quite like flying, and doing it on the back of an actual dragon probably counted for like... nine thousand extra coolness points, all by itself.

fiduspawn-master: Tav couldn't stop smiling as he kept low to the dragon's back, hanging on as she climbed higher. He could barely hear over the rushing wind, but he glanced over at the flash of bronze, fluttering wings, laughing and letting go with one hand to pump his fist in the air in clear confirmation.

ad1ostoreador: A whoop that he might have learned from Gamzee, and Tavros made a dizzying swoop to plunge past the flying beast's outstretched neck, beneath her, then fight his way up again, grinning wildly and thoroughly windblown. It wasn't often that he got to play midair with anyone but flapbeasts, especially someone who really appreciated the experience, and he was going to enjoy every minute of this while it lasted.

fiduspawn-master: He quickly grabbed on again, watching Tavros dive and swoop as the dragon evened out her angle of ascent. She let the currents catch in her wings like sails and slowly banked back towards the land again. Now she wasn't flying upwards, Tavros could finally sit up and look around, seeing the sea spread out and glittering below in the moonlight, and his hive, tiny in the distance, standing alone. He spread out his arms to feel the wind rushing past his whole body and took a deep breath of rarefied air. It tasted and smelled better than anything he could ever remember, and he let his eyes close briefly so he could just savor the moment.

ad1ostoreador: It was the kind of moment Tavros was content to let play out, for as long as his counterpart needed it. He kept pace with the dragon's flight, alternating diving glides with fluttering spirals higher, and maybe a brief game of something like tag, even, with subtle gusts of wind rising up to carry him along when he wasn't thinking too hard about it.

fiduspawn-master: The dragon flew in slow arcs, like a gentle roller coaster, nothing too fancy or fast in consideration for her rider. Tav laughed giddily, especially on the descents, relishing the weightless feeling as he clung to her back. Eventually she was flying over his hive and he let her start a slow, circular descent so that she could land, not wanting to push his luck with the magnificent beast. She wasn't his lusus or anything, and he already appreciated her helping with the drones. also he could feel his thighs and behind getting uncomfortably hot from her scales, probably should have thrown his blanket over her back or something.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros followed the dragon downward, there, grinning as they descended, and he would finally still into that physics-gone-slightly-flipped-sideways floaty hover, once she had come to a complete landing stop. "I can, uhh... lift you back down, the same way, if that's okay...?"

fiduspawn-master: Tha dragon hunkered down onto her belly once she'd gently landed, getting low to make dismounting easier. Tav squirmed a little in his seat, looking up to his alt and nodding quickly as he extended a hand "Uhhh, Yes please. Thanks."

ad1ostoreador: Once again, Tavros got a firm hold on his forearm--or both of them, if he offered the other, and then floated him up and off the dragon's neckridge, to carefully airlift him back to his chair, giving him time to get his legs situated before he set him completely down. "All, um, good?"

fiduspawn-master: He held on with both hands, looking down as he was taken back to his wheeled device. He settled back in easily enough, shifting in his chair as he let go of his alt. He looked up at him with a smile, giving him a thumbs up "Yeah, Thanks!" The dragon was getting up again, sniffing around casually.

"Heh, Man, That was... Wow, Heh"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros was still grinning, looking pleased and a bit relieved all at once, that his counterpart had both enjoyed the experience and not inadvertently injured himself in the process. He dropped back to the ground, himself, landing on his feet and folding his wings back with a bit of a sigh to avoid being pushed about by the wind. The phantom shimmer of a second set of wings evaporated, a moment later. "Yeah... I'm glad she didn't mind," he added, looking up at the dragon with a grateful wave.

fiduspawn-master: She sniffed in his direction before starting to wander off, preparing to lift off again and go back to whatever she'd been doing before.

"Heh, Yeahhh, Me too." He agreed, watching her start to take off, smiling wistfully.

ad1ostoreador: "I guess you do have a pretty, uh... thorough anti-drone defense system..." He, also, watched the huge beast abscond, though not with quite the same note of wistfulness.

fiduspawn-master: "Heh, Well, It's definitely, Uhhh, Better than it used to be." he hummed, finally tearing his eyes away from the quickly shrinking white dot in the sky to smile at his guest. "Uhm, Thanks for helping me, That was really great..."

ad1ostoreador: "No problem... I'm glad it was fun," Tavros said, smiling back. He'd had the inklings of the idea, and then the dragon had presented herself as an immediate opportunity. It was certainly a welcome distraction from the faint, nagging itch of Gl'bgolyb's presence on this planet. "Maybe we could, uh... do that again sometime..."

fiduspawn-master: "Yeah! Heh, But maybe, Uhh, Not too soon" She wasn't exactly a tame hoofbeast or anything. There was a faint redness along the horizon that hinted at the dawn that would come in the next few hours, and Tavros turned to head back inside now the dragon was out of sight.

(there was something a little different about that itch here too, less eldritch, more predatory, no less uncomfortable, especially this close to the sea.)

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded, glancing out toward that tint of color in the sky. It was amazing how fast being back on Alternia, even for a visit, could remind him that the day was something to fear, not something to greet. He moved to follow his alternate back inside the hive, picking up his poncho to re-secure it, on the way. "I should, um, probably head back soon, I think..." He had one more stop off-planet to make, too. Two if he braved an excess of crowding strangers to find Gamzee a better coat, while he was at it.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros spun around to face him, looking up at him with a slanted smile "Oh, Heh, Yeahhh, probably, It is getting pretty early." he acknowledged, glancing at the row of windows before rolling back over to start closing the curtains. "Uhh, Thank you for coming though! This was, Really nice... Oh, And I hope that Gamzee likes his present!" He added, looking back over his shoulder at him.

ad1ostoreador: "I'm sure he will," Tavros assured him, double-checking to make sure he'd put the fabric-wrapped little package in his sylladex. It was there, as was the pot he'd come to collect, and he returned that smile crookedly. "I'll, uh, see you around, yeah? It was really nice to meet you in person..."

fiduspawn-master: He finished with the curtains and turned to face his alt as he was leaving, smiling more warmly and raising a hand in farewell. "Yes! See you around, Uhh, Tavros, Heh, It was nice to meet you too, And, Not as weird at the end."

ad1ostoreador: It was clearly necessary to offer a fist for a proper fist-bunp, there. "Definitely not as weird at the end," he agreed, then gave a little wave of his own, and looked down to fiddle with the device on his wrist. A moment later... fworp, and he was gone the same way he'd arrived.

fiduspawn-master: The fistbump was easily reciprocated and he watched his guest vanish into thin air.

#narration mode #fiduspawn master

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bookishpower · 5 years ago

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Fic I’m considering writing...

A slight pressure on his knee. Tyrion nudging him forward in more than one way, no doubt. Except Tyrion was on his right, short legs propped up, likely on Pod’s legs (or his cock, to hear Tyrion talk).

The only one it could be was the newly-minted knight sitting across from him at the trestle table. Her legs, crammed under the table with his, so close they might as well entwine them.

Jaime blinked, hoping he hadn’t been fool enough to voice that last thought. Brienne blushed, either from wine or Tyrion’s bawdy questions, but thank God, not from his inattentive thoughts.

An accident, that’s all that it was.

He struggles to return to the game.

“You were born...” Tyrion pauses for dramatic effect, eyebrow raised, dipping his horn of wine in Brienne’s direction. “...on an island.”

He was obviously trying to get the lady knight drunk, Jaime surmised that much. And Brienne was well on her way there. But for what purpose, he was uncertain. Perhaps to learn more about the woman his brother had knighted? But these were easy questions, unless he was leading up to something...

Jaime suddenly wished he’d taken smaller sips. He couldn’t keep up with his brother while sober - his drunken self didn’t stand a chance. Tyrion was a wonderful brother, but his wit could run cruel, and Brienne’s defenses were down with wine, her soft heart exposed.

He watched as Brienne made to pick up her goblet - then deliberately set it down to her right, a secretive smile curling her plump lips.

“No.”

“What?” The exclamation left Jaime’s lips before he could halt it. “But you’re the heir!”

Brienne shook her head, smile dimming just a bit. “Not at the time. But it wouldn’t matter - almost no child of Tarth is born on the island.”

“Pod,” Tyrion nods at the squire. “Look to Ser Brienne. She’s a bit happy on the wine and making no sense.”

“She’s telling the truth, m’lord,” Pod returns, looking over at his knight fondly. “Most people of Tarth aren’t born there.”

For a moment, Jaime questioned if he was much drunker than he thought. But seeing the confusion on his brother’s face, he realizes he’s not alone in his confusion.

“I’ll bite, ser,” he returns, and Brienne turns her smiling face to his, and her astonishing eyes flash in the candlelight. Whatever words he intended to say next lodge in his throat.

A few pregnant moments pass silently as they gaze at one another. Tyrion’s sharp little elbow in his ribs brings him back.

Was she blushing? It was so hard to tell amidst the candlelight and shadows.

“If you want the truth, you don’t need to bite. You need to drink,” she replies equably, nodding at his glass. Jaime growls, but downs the wine, then looks at her expectantly. She smiles at his expression, and his stomach lurches in a way that has nothing to do with the wine.

“I was born in the Narrow Sea,” she answers. “Women of Tarth try to give birth in the tidal pools or the sheltered coves, but not on land. It’s a long-standing tradition.”

“In the water?” Jaime can’t help himself.

“In the winter?” Tyrion sounds skeptical.

“There are pools below the hall, or the babe is dipped in warm seawater immediately after birth.”

Jaime must still have a quizzical look on his face, because Brienne rattles on, looking uncertain. “Life on Tarth depends on the sea, so we start there. Later, when we die, our ashes return there. You start out your life there, and learn to respect it.”

Jaime has more questions - namely, how do Tarth babes not immediately drown - but Tyrion beats him to it.

“So will the future Evenstar of Tarth bring her children into the world by sea or by land?” Tyrion’s voice has a caustic note that Jaime recognizes, and he begins to muster his wits in Brienne’s defense.

To his surprise, though Brienne is certainly blushing scarlet now, she meets Tyrion on his accustomed battleground.

“That’s a statement on one of many possible futures, my Lord. By your own rules you must now drink.”

Tyrion grunts and looks to his brother for aid. But Jaime just smiles and points a finger at him. “She’s got you.”

Tyrion rolls his eyes and leans his head against his brother’s shoulder with a moue of regret before tossing his drink back.

Brienne grins, and Jaime feels his heart palpitating worryingly even as he grins back.

The knee against his own hasn’t moved. And Brienne’s fingers curl around her goblet, brushing his own. He feels those points of contact like fire, fire that he wishes would spread and encompass his entire body.

He’s on the verge of asking something that has nothing to do with Tyrion’s game, on the verge of letting his entire world shift...

“My Lord Hand!” The dragon queen’s imperious voice crests over the drunken din. Everything mutes slightly, even the Wildlings pausing their raucous celebration. Brienne straightens on the bench, her hand withdrawing from its casual press against his.

It could be the shadows in the room, but Jaime could swear the diminutive young woman towers over them all, the distinctive Targaryen hair glowing like wildfire. She calls for his brother, but her hard violet eyes are on Jaime.

And Brienne.

To his credit, Tyrion moves fast, scrambling off the bench and coming forward to stand in front of them. He bows. “My gracious and victorious Queen!”

“I have an idea for our next victorious battle,” Daenerys continues, speaking across the room. “Lady Sansa, Lord Jon, please join us in the solar.” She pauses. “Tyrion, bring your brother.”

Jaime’s insides turn to ice. He’d wondered if the queen would remember him in the wake of cleanup and funerals. It seemed Aerys’s daughter didn’t miss a beat.

As he rose to follow his brother, he felt Brienne’s fingers brush against his own briefly. He looked to her, and wished he could brush his fingers against the furrows in her brow. She wants to follow, he knows, but without her lady’s summons, she can only watch him leave.

“Be careful,” she murmured. Feeling greatly daring, he captured her blunt, callused fingertips in his own, squeezing briefly.

A promise.

“Pod, don’t let her drink too much,” he jests. “There are still a few questions I have.”

He pulls away reluctantly, following Tyrion across the floor, aware of the eyes of the hall upon him. His shoulders straightened, the golden lion no mine, but a lion all the same.

“Let me do the talking,” Tyrion says in an undertone as they exit the hall. “Her moods are uncertain since the battle.”

“They were certain before?” He can’t help it, it’s as instinctive as breathing.

Tyrion stops in his tracks and stares up at Jaime, irritation plain. Jaime holds up his hand in apology.

They enter the solar together under the withering stare of Grey Worm. Lord Varys nodded at them from a position near the fire. Ned Stark’s bastard idiot looked confused, as usual, while Lady Sansa stared at the dragon queen with an expression like thunder.

“Your grace,” Jaime bowed, uneasy at the feeling of baring the back of his neck to this woman.

Daenerys gazes at him, and there is no anger in her face any longer. Only something like satisfaction.

“I believe I have a way to take King’s Landing without bloodshed,” she declared, seating herself at the table, ignoring the table map entirely. “It depends on a few things, and one of them is Ser Jaime.”

The pause lengthened and Daenerys continued to stare at him in expectation. Belatedly, Jaime struggled for words.

“Whatever I can do to help end the wars, your grace,” he stumbles out. “I hope that the Long Night is the last battle to trouble Westeros for many generations.”

Daenerys’s expression doesn’t change, but her topic of interest does.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth is sworn to your service, is she not, Lady Sansa?”

“She is, your grace.” Sansa is every inch Lady Catelyn’s daughter, and if his stomach hadn’t turned to ice at the mention of Brienne, he would have listened for the ringing of steel in the young woman’s spine. “She is also a knight now. Ser Jaime knighted her before the battle.”

Daenerys looks to Jaime for confirmation, and he nods.

“That changes nothing, though it does confirm what I suspected,” the young woman pronounces. She examines his face carefully, and Jaime realizes he’s rather be eyed by her dragons in such a way.

“I have been loved by many,” she begins, turning her gaze away. “I know what it is to be cheered by crowds who know you love them in return. I have had the love of friends, and the love of those whom I could not love as they wished.”

She pauses, her eyes drifting towards Jon Snow’s boots. He, in turn, seems to be attempting to send himself to Dorne by staring hard into the map.

“I have also known the love of a man for a woman, and loved in return,” she continues. “They are all powerful in their own forms. But in this case, we can turn that last form into the key to a lasting peace.”

For one horrifying moment, Jaime fears she is about to propose marriage to him.

Then she speaks, and it is far worse.

“Lord Jon Snow has bent the knee to me. This means that everyone in his realm, and everyone sworn to someone in his realm is in my command.”

Her eyes refocus on Jaime, and he wishes he’d succeeded in running her through with a spear all those months ago.

“Ser Jaime, it is plain to all your feelings for Ser Brienne. Therefore, I charge you to accompany us south. We will smuggle you into King’s Landing, where you will either convince your sister to renounce the throne or kill her. Should you fail, I’ll burn Ser Brienne myself.”

#jaime x brienne #fic idea #brienne of tarth #jaime lannister #braime fanfiction #braime

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corona-the-nightcutter · 5 years ago

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Blood Notes

Logan’s schedule for the night was simple. Tidy up around the house, make herself an easy meal, watch the latest episode of her favorite monster-hunting show (however inaccurate and obscure their methods may be), then go to sleep. One of her more laid-back evening as of late, but she couldn't be more thankful for it. This past week has kept her a little too busy for her liking. The sudden rush of adrenaline that the human body produced when you tried not to die was not something that Logan particularly enjoyed. Dealing with high strung angelic beings wasn't too high on her favorite’s list either. Just a casual night with nothing but the outcome of the show to worry about.

That was, of course, after she cleaned up like she was asked.

She walked into the hallway bathroom in search of a brush and tie for her hair. She had the longest hair in her family by far (well as far as she was aware), so doing almost anything gritty was next to impossible with it let loose in all its glory. Her mother had constantly, and recently an “acquaintance”, had recommended cutting it shorter. But she had cut it short when she was younger, though the ridiculous bangs she had with it were the biggest issue she now had with the look, she still refused to cut it after she has spent years growing it out.

She pulled open the top drawer of the sink and reached into the tiny woven bin where she kept them, pulling a fairly tight elastic band out. As she reached for the brush, she glanced up at the mirror, and froze.

How she hadn't noticed this earlier was a mystery to her, but she was always one to absorb herself in own thoughts, whether she chose to or not.

Her reflection was covered by fresh, dripping, dark crimson blood. The viscous, liquid trails slid all the way down to the wood framing, staining the orange brown with an almost eerie dark maroon and had begun to drip onto the ceramic sink top. Someone with any sort of rational thought would have called the police to report a breaking and entering, and mostly like a suspect of murder. Logan would have snorted at the thought of a religious person seeing this and preparing an exorcism with salt.

She only groaned deeply and buried her face her hand. “My god ...Anoroc!” she shouted out, seemingly at nothing but a random shadow at first glance. When she didn’t get an answer, she marched out to the living room, completely foregoing her first task as usual, and glared at another, larger shadow that looked suspiciously dark to her.

“Alright, you can come out now. I know you’re there.” she said sternly, placing her hands on her hips, hair tie clutched in one.

The shadow she was looking at begin to move, the darker filling begin to shrink and condense into a tall form, a beastly one with massive wings, a curling spiked tail, and a row of horns that sprouted from the top and sides of its head. The form continued to shrink until Logan could make out every row of spines that littered the creature’s face, and the sharp tips of its claws on its paws. (or hands? Logan couldn’t tell which.)

But that wasn't important now. Her arms crossed over themselves and her mouth pursed into a high, short line as the creature “walked” out of the shadows. Its entire form barely fit in the living room. The jagged tips of its horns lightly scraped against the ceiling; its wings would have knocked the tv off its stand if it was not careful. The claws that tipped it’s hands ...or paws… looked as if they had to power to slice cleanly through steel, and the deadly golden amber eyes on its face contained a fire that could melt even the firmest of wills, reducing them to begging for their lives on their knees before the demon.

“You called me, Eldritchess?” The demon’s deep, masculine voice addressed, revealing rows of sharp, frightening teeth that were concealed in his jaws. He stared down at her with a stern gaze, as though she had done something wrong, or unexpected.

Logan, despite all this, just sighed and put one hand up to her face again. The demon’s stern gaze turned to one of confusion, tilting his head as she looked through her fingers up at him.

“Why is there blood writing on my mirror?” she asked as if it was a completely normal thing, which while this wasn't a common occurrence as of yet, she had been told to expect “out of the ordinary things” by a certain angelic king. She supposed this was the start of them.

The demon’s ears perked up in surprise, the scaled brows on his face raising slightly. “Aziza informed me that your generations sense of humor was based around the aspect of ‘randomness’. Was this not... random enough to be humorous to you?” He asked, looking down at her with something of an earnest and sincere look. Well, it looked like it was sincere. She could tell it was strained, but he was trying. That was at least somewhat calming her irritation.

“Random enough? Well yeah this is random, but not in a good way! Whose blood is on my mirror? What did you kill? You better not say chickens.” She eyed him suspiciously and leaned forward, although it did nothing to help that she had to look up at least two feet to meet his eyes.

Anoroc scoffed and looked away from her with a deadpan in his fiery eyes. “Oh please, chickens are a coward’s target. I used lamb’s blood that I had stored away.” he stated formerly, his hands that dangled at his side like willow limbs folded behind himself just under where his wings were attached.

“I don't think that makes you any less of a coward to have blood stored away,” she forced herself ignored how his gaze was on her, looking like something short of annoyance, “and why would you store blood in the first place? I thought you were a dragon. Are you part vampire or something?” she asked, leaning back to her normal height.

“No, I am not part vampire. It’s for research and ritual purposes.”

“Uh huh… well, whatever. Stay there.” she said and walked back toward the bathroom. She reached her hands to her hair and chose to just gather it into a low ponytail. A higher ponytail would have been preferred, but this would work for now. She regarded the stained mirror again for a second, noticed how the blood had begun to brown and dry. She didn't waste any time in getting the glass spray and a roll of paper towels, walking back out and all but threw them to her “assigned protector”.

“Um...Eldri-”

“Logan. My name is Logan, so please use it. Since we’re partners now, or whatever Orion said, it would be better if you weren’t so formal.” Logan said, then looked down at the two items in his clawed grasp. “You made the mess, so you have to clean it up.” She asserted, but she was taken aback by the confused look on his face as he turned over the aluminum can and cylinder of paper in his hands.

“I’m confused…”

“By what? You just push here, and it sprays.” she pointed to the pressured spot atop the canister.

“No… well yes, that as well, but usually when I made… a mess I was escorted back to my chambers.” Anoroc explained.

“Oh yeah, you had servants. Must have been nice.” Logan remarked with a smirk, but it dropped immediately when she saw the hard look on his face.

“Escorted by guards, because the staff feared I was too wild.” His eyes went dark and they almost looked as if they turned into a dark orange color. He brought the canister to his muzzle to sniff it and snorted and shook his head as the fumes of the cleaner entered his nostrils.

“Hey.” Logan looked up at him with something of a reassuring grin. “That was when you were classified as ‘a danger to the fortress’, but with you as my guardian, and with me as your connection to the mortal world, we can change that, right?” She said.

Anoroc regarded her statement for a moment. “I suppose that’s how this is going to work....” He agreed, looking back to her.

“Great! Now go get that mirror cleaned before it stains anymore, and maybe I’ll teach you what the whole “randomness” deal with my generation’s humor means, huh?” She patted his scaled and fur-covered arm and walked past him, beginning to de-clutter the coffee table. She picked up a stack of old mail and cast a glance over her shoulder, spotting her counterpart edging his way carefully to the bathroom, minding that his bulky wings didn’t knock down another picture. She smiled to herself. Though she still was a little irked about the blood note, it was hard to find anything too irritating when all she could think about was that he had written “got any grapes?”. It was a clumsy effort and even slightly embarrassing to think about how stupid it must seem to someone at least three hundred years her senior, but Anoroc was trying to understand humans, and her, better in order to protect them. That alone was enough for her.

Suddenly, there was a loud growling and hissing noise from the bathroom, followed by a deep, pained whining. Logan cringed, knowing fully well he probably just sprayed himself in the eye.

“Logan? Could...could you come assist me with this… cleaning utensil? I think it might be sentient.” Anoroc called. His voice was strained, like he almost hoped she wouldn’t hear him.

“Did you aim it the wrong way?” She called with a high bounce in her voice, dropping the stack of letters on the table as she passed. She may not have enough time to watch her show before she had to go to sleep now, this might turn out to be a more exciting night “alone” after all.

#welp posting it anyway #cuz why not #my post #my writing #anoroc #logan #logan tyson #anoroc the annoyed #funny #funny demons #demon #dragon #demon dragon

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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HICCUPS! : MLP Fan Fiction : A Grumpy Goat >tail<

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HICCUPS!

A Grumpy Goat >tail<

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

16440 words

Writing begun 11/30/18

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Characters:

Grumpy Goat and usual cast

Thomas/and/or/Dashie Writer – remote controlled T82

Wind, the Mama Cat

Victor Mordenheim - Mad Doctor

Krystal Dragoness “KD” Wingless dragon - artist

Fume Hood Unicorn, a bit small-Forensic Chemist

Jinni and Sassy vampire and succubus

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It was being a quiet day out on the ledge in front of my cave. We were sitting on a bench, out in the sun, rereading Daring Do and the Secret of the Appleoosa Cave. The stout iron sheeting that blocked the entrance to my cave was warm behind us.

The lovely Coalsmoke, a pony of perfect glossy black except for her cutie mark, was leaning over where my shoulder would be, if I still had a body, or for that matter was even technically alive. She was admiring one of the illustrations in the book.

“I especially like these illustrations signed KD, Grumpy. They capture the mood and action really well.”

Sitting on my other side was the finely polished skeleton of an alicorn. He was the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, the being responsible for my present condition and now one of my few true friends.

He agreed, “Look at how well the artist has made the cave entrance look menacing. Whoever did this is very good.”

We were distracted from our pleasant reading by a flare of flame down on the trail leading up to my cave. Looking down the way, I was more or less expecting it to be the torches of another anti goat mob or, more specifically anti Grumpy Goat mob.

Due to my business, I am less than popular with some ponies. I have a thriving practice in Non Equine Magic. Mostly, it does not appear to do anything. Somehow, the desired, contracted for and paid in advance results just seem to happen by perfectly natural, if often bizarre means. Most of the time, those results are the advantage over, injury, death or ruin of some pony, paid for as mentioned, IN ADVANCE, by some other pony.

This time, it was not a mob. There was a wingless blue dragon toiling up the stony path to my cave. The next time that she flared, we could hear it. It sounded like she was suffering from a case of hiccups! Possibly not the best ailment for a dragon to have, since she was burping a smallish fire blast with each hiccup!

When she gained the ledge, she considerately turned her head out away from us. Good thing, too! She had two hiccups in quick succession!

She offered, “My name is Krystal Dragoness, KD for short. I've come to you about these hiccups. They are like to ruin me. I am at my wit's end. See, I am an artist. I draw and paint. I get going on a piece and these hiccups start up! One of them is sure to hit my work, and, well, paper, paints, canvas and frames are all pretty flammable! I've even burned up brushes!

“Can you help me to end these hiccups?”

I nodded, making my skull, apparently floating on nothing, with its everburning candle between the horns, glowing snake like eyes and fangs bob. “I could do that, yes. It would not cure the basic problem, though. Hiccups usually have a natural cause from tummy and lungs not coordinating right. If I fix this case, it could easily happen again.

“Let's dig into how this started and whether there is some underlaying cause that we can fix.”

Somewhat disappointed, Krystal nodded. “That makes sense. My first case of the hiccups like this happened at my one dragon show in the Sunrise Gallery in Manehatten. You know how those things are, lots of nobs that you need to chat with and lots of small snacks and drinks. The show itself was a pretty important one.

“I landed a contract to illustrate the next Daring Do book. There was some serious competition for that contract, let me tell you. It nearly went to Drawin Pitcher. She wasn't too happy about me getting to do the art for another Daring Do book. This one will be my fourth.

“I had only just signed the contract when the hiccups started. The first one nearly incinerated my new contract! I was able to get out of the gallery safely when they began. I was lucky that I didn't hurt anypony or any of my art.”

She absently pulled a sparkly topped muffin out of a bag and began munching it. Looking up, a bit embarrassed, she pointed out, “I really can't share dragon muffins with you. They are topped with crushed gems and have gold or silver dust in the muffin part. I'm afraid that they are pretty toxic to non dragons.”

Coalsmoke asked curiously, “Where did you get them? No place in Ponyville makes them at all. Sometimes the kitchen in Princess Twilight's castle makes up some for Spike but they never sell them.”

Krystal knit her brows in puzzlement. “I get them out of this bag. I always like have them when I am a little tense, like when I am concentrating on my art. Nibbling helps me to focus.”

Just then, she let out another small belch of fire.

Whistling softly, I thought carefully about what I had heard. “Tell me, Krystal, at the art show, did you have muffins like these?”

“Well, yes. Any well equipped bakery can make them. They just have to clean up carefully afterwards. They always serve them if I am going to be showing any of my works.”

I nodded and looked over at the lovely Coalsmoke, who is always a treat for the ol' eyeballs and asked, “And where have you bought them since that art show in Manehatten?”

She paused, thinking. “I haven't had to. This bag always has some in it.”

The eyes that I don't really have widened just a bit. “It always has some of those muffins in it for you? When did you get that bag?”

She scratched behind the spines along the back of her jaw as she sorted it out. “I first noticed it just after I left the gallery at the show where I got those first hiccups. It's always there when I am tense.”

I glamored my invisible spirit body to look like the handsome tan, black and brown goat that I was before the tiny mistake that killed me and destroyed my original body. Holding out a hoof, I said, “Just give me the bag, please. I am going to try something simple with it.”

Nodding affably, Krystal handed me the bag. I took it inside my cave and shut the iron door. That door and my cave front were designed by a good firm of military engineers to withstand an Equestrian standard military battering ram.

It only takes one anti-goat mob burning your house, your library, years of study, hopes for a degree and dreams of well paying work to make one take a few simple precautions. Add the mob trying to stone your burned and battered body to death to drive home the lesson in how how to hate most ponies. That trivial incident also motivated my simple and sensible precautions against a repeat of the problem. Like living in a cave. With a military fortress grade steel and iron entrance.

I turned about from sealing the door and asked Krystal if she was still feeling tense. Digging into the bag for a muffin, she replied, “Yes, a little. Why?”

The Litch King pointed with a foreleg of bone. “That is why. He just shut that bag inside his cave and it looks like you have it back.”

He turned his skeletal head to me and stated, “Grumpy, if you can, we NEED to help KD. Her illustrations really make a Daring Do book! Plus, we know now that a new one is in the works! We can't let anything interfere with THAT!”

I shrugged and opened the door. I was not even surprised that the bag was not there inside my cave any longer. Krystal munched her muffin and shortly hiccuped another tongue of flame.

I pointed out, “That bag was behind six centimeters of forged iron. In spite of that, it homed in on you without seeming effort. Moments after you nibbled that muffin, you hiccuped another flame. I suspect that there is a direct connection. To be sure, we need to go back down into Ponyville. I know someone in the forensic chemistry lab at the police department. In the meantime, try not to nibble another muffin and let us see if that helps to control or stop the problem.”

On the trail back down to Ponyville, Coalsmoke and I tried to simply hold the bag instead of letting Krystal carry it. This wise measure proved impossible. The bag kept sneakily returning to her claws. After what happened up on the ledge in front of my cave, that was pretty much what was expected.

I have to admit that I was pleased by the simple fact that Krystal did keep her claws out of the bag. We got down the trail and into Ponyville without incident as a result.

Instead of my usual turning towards the town hall and the Hall of Records, to record a new contract, I trotted right on, with a right turn, headed towards the Ponyville Waste Treatment Plant and Falmire Marsh, which is fenced and actually the final stage of the waste water treatment, before it goes into the river.

Coalsmoke was most interested in why we were going where we were going. Soon enough, we came to a modest stone building close by to the treatment plant. The sign said,

Ponyville Police Department

Forensics Laboratory

Chemistry, Physical Evidence Analysis,

Forensic Autopsy

As I pushed open the front door, I explained, “I know most of the staff here. Sometimes they will consult with me, when a case is being a pain.”

Coalsmoke chuckled, “How often is one of their nasty cases the result of one of your contracts, Grumpy?”

A smallish unicorn looked up from where he was working at a desk, apparently compiling a report. “Not really all that often, Miss Coalsmoke. Even when it is, there is no actual evidence that can link the contract to the results. Grumpy is often a big help in sorting out how something that we are investigating happened. We pay him a proper consultation fee, of course.”

I introduced, “Coalsmoke, KD, I would like you to meet Fume Hood, one of the best forensic chemists in the whole kingdom. We are lucky to have him here in Ponyville.”

KD offered, “You have some unusual friends, Grumpy.”

I chortled, “If they aren't unusual in some way, the aren't worth having as friends.”

Turning my attention to Fume Hood, I explained what our situation was in a few words and ended with, “Think that you could do us a rough analysis of one of KD's dragon muffins?”

He thought for a moment, tapping quietly on his desk top before nodding, “You say that the flame is mostly pale blue? Nearly transparent but pretty hot?”

KD shook her head in agreement. “Right. That is, unless I eat something with salt in it. Then the flame is yellow. Is that significant?”

Fume Hood said, “It MAY be. I would like to see both your normal flame and one from your hiccups. Please step over there. Dragon flame can be pretty handy for some chemistry tests, so we have a small indoor flame range.”

KD stepped over to the flame range's head rest. Fume Hood lowered the room lights and suggested, “Whenever you are ready, Miss KD. Just give us a small shot of your regular flame.”

KD's fire blast was impressively different from a hiccup flame. It was a bright yellow with some red to the center and flame tips that went to a bluish hue.

Fume Hood almost danced pleasure at seeing it! Perfect! Normal dragon fire. Now, let's see what we get with one of those muffins. Go ahead and take one from the bag and eat it.”

He was watching the bag very closely as KD extracted the muffin. “Fascinating. There is only one muffin in the bag until you take it out. Then a new muffin forms almost immediately afterwards.”

KD contentedly munched her muffin. Within moments, she stuck her head into the flame range headrest and belched a nearly pure, pale blue flame.

Fume Hood smiled in chemistly joy. “Timing and color nail it! You were right, Grumpy. There is a direct connection between the muffins and KD's hiccups of flame. The only reason that she flames at all with them is that, being a dragon, she has a natural ignition spark every time she exhales or belches. Whatever this vapor she is belching is, it is highly flammable.”

KD's shoulders slumped. “Does that mean that I can't have Dragon Muffins anymore?”

Fume Hood chuckled as he replied, “I suspect that you can have all that you want. Just not these, from this bag.”

He went to pull one out. Looking perplexed, he tried again. “Humm . . . I can't seem get that muffin out of the bag. KD, will you get it please? I need to analyze it.”

Without any problem, KD extracted the muffin. Fume Hood took it and sliced it in half. One half he put into a beaker with a lye solution. It began to dissolve at once. Soon there was only some slightly coarse granules mixed with loose sparkly fragments of gemstones in the bottom of the beaker.

Fume Hood filtered out the solid residue and rinsed it with water. Stirring it with a glass rod, he explained, “The lye took away everything but the gems in the topping and the metal dusts in the body of the muffin. Now, lets see what happens next . . .”

He dripped some acid onto the residue. “Gems, gold, and silver won't dissolve in this mild acid.”

In spite of that, something was happening! It bubbled and fumed something fierce! Happily touching it off with a sparking wand used to light his lab burners, Fume Hood pointed dramatically!

“There! You see? Pale blue flame! See the white residue? Zinc oxide. Your muffins are adulterated with zinc! It reacts with your stomach acids to make hydrogen and that is what, along with a bit of moisture and such that it picks up as you burp is what makes your so called hiccups! Just don't eat any muffins from that bag and you should be fine.”

He turned to me and snickered, “OK, Grumpy. We are even now.”

I turned to the perplexed KD and Coalsmoke. “They needed an autopsy done last year. The cadaver was over a week old, in August. I glamored up a form with no sense of smell and did it for them. Death was from blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Clubbed, to be crude about it.”

KD brightened up and commented, “If they get that sort of thing to deal with, it is no wonder that this place is beside the waste treatment plant!”

I agreed, “Right! Now all that we need to do is sort out how you got a bag that can do what this one does.”

KD put a finger to her cheek as she thought. “I do know where I got it. It was at that Manehatten art show that I told you about. The Dragon Treats that they serve at those things are always kept separate from the pony treats by putting them in bags. Somepony gave me this bag with a muffin in it, just before I signed that Daring Do contract.”

Fume Hood tapped me on my nonexistent shoulder and pointed to the bottom of the bag. There was a small trade mark in the form of a silhouette. There was a small bit of advertising too.

KD read, “Redline Party Supplies – For a party to remember for the rest of your life – If you survive!” She also pointed out, “That silhouette looks like a laughing wolf's head.”

Fume Hood agreed, “It does look like that, doesn't it? I know of someone who uses a silhouette like that on their business cards. Here.” He hoofed over a card.

The card read:

Doctor Mordenheim,

General Surgery and Prosthesis.

Everfree Edge Clinic

Practice inspected and approved by Princess Luna

I was delighted! “I know where that is! It was a small old castle that was supposedly built by a -” I made my voice low and shivery while making Hoof Quotes, “- 'Mad Doctor' long before Ponyville was established. It was in ruins when the Apples came and founded the town.”

Coalsmoke smiled and said, “Right, Grumpy. I know where it is too. I send my workers there for general health workups and surgery when it is needed. Doctor Mordenheim really is very good. It is not far from here, either. Let's go see if he can shed any light on this business.”

We left, taking the Falmire Causeway that crossed the marsh, going out towards the southeast side of the Everfree forest. We paused by a street vendor's cart to watch the antics of her trained alligator.

Have to admit that Pinkie has done a great job of training Gummy! I mean, he is two and a half meters of fun! Rumor has it that she has broken him to saddle, but she was not offering rides today.

“Gator Chow, gator chow! / The gators below are hungry now! / Feed the gators down below / It is really quite a show!”

A chuckling Coalsmoke hoofed over coins and got a big bag filled with large chunks. It said “Certified Gator Chow” on the label. She shared the chunks around and we spent a few happy minutes tossing them to the many alligators gathered hopefully under the bridge.

There were splashes and chomping a-plenty as the gators lunged about for each new chunk of the chow. We heard a munching from behind us.

KD, swallowing, asked Pinkie, “Where can I get some more of this stuff? It is pretty good!”

At our stares, she retorted, “What? Dragon here, remember? I don't eat grass!”

We left Pinkie to her vending and went on across. It was not long before we saw the sign pointing to the forest beyond. It said, Everfree Edge Clinic, General Medicine and Prosthetics.

Only a little way up the designated path of yellow cobbles, we came to a small but well restored castle. I had to give this Doctor Mordenheim credit for showmanship. This was one classy clinic. The sign over an open door read Welcome to Everfree Edge Clinic.

Coalsmoke rang a bell labeled Ring for Service that sat on a beautiful mahogany desk in the lobby/waiting room.

We did not even get to try out the assorted seating and laying cushions. A large, near horse sized zebra with an eye patch came out of the back. His professional smile turned to a genuine one as he laid eye on Coalsmoke.

“My dear Coalsmoke! What may I do for you, or is it for one of your friends?”

Suddenly stopping like he'd hit one of his stone castle walls, he gave me a careful and most knowing look. “I do fear that the goat is beyond any help of mine.”

Coalsmoke smirked just a little as she replied, “You are correct. This is Grumpy Goat, my long standing friend, of whom I am sure that you have heard. We are not here for him.

“This is Krystal Dragoness. She prefers to be called KD. Our problem is sort of related to her, but it is not medical.”

Resting his chin on one forehoof, as he sat behind the desk, Doctor Mordenheim inquired, “If the problem is not medical, then what is it?”

I held out a hoof, “KD, may I have the bag please?”

I showed him the bottom. “Somepony named Redline is using your cutie mark on his things. It has some interesting properties.”

Mordenheim put his face in his hooves. “I know. I see that KD has it. She can't lose it either. Whatever is in it, seems like an endless supply. I made it, years ago. How it got here to this world, I have no idea.”

He was sort of surprised when we all simply found seating and Coalsmoke asked casually, “So, how did you get here? More to the point, when you arrived, did you meet an elderly blue unicorn with a white mane, tail, and beard?”

Mordenheim looked blank. “What? No, I never met anypony like that.”

He got a seriously uncomfortable expression as he elaborated, “I would really prefer not to go into why I wound up here. Princess Luna knows in detail. Suffice it to say that the events led me to wandering in the Everfree Forest. I have no idea at all how it happened, since the Everfree is not all that big, but I was in there for over a week. Perhaps more, I am not at all sure. What I am sure of is that the path that I was on did not seem to double back on itself or any thing like that. Between sun breaks in the forest canopy and the scenery, I am sure that I was not going in circles.

“I happened on the ruin of this old castle. I might have simply passed it by but it had a small cobbled road leading to it from outside of the forest. I followed that road and it led me to Ponyville.” He shook his head in wonder, “It was a very different Ponyville than the one that I left. By good fortune, I met Caramel Treat, Fangrin and Reverend Smallflower. The rest all came from meeting them.”

I pointed out, “Fascinating as that is, it completely dodges the question of that bag and its neverending supply of adulterated Dragon Muffins.”

One of Doctor Mordenheim's ears cocked up in fascination. “Adulterated? How?”

Coalsmoke filled in, “With lots of zinc metal dust, that's how.”

Doctor Mordenheim winced, “Ouch! That would make mountains of hydrogen gas! That could cause a serious problem for a dragon!”

KD confirmed, “It sure does! The hiccups that it causes have been near the ruin of my art.”

Suddenly you could see things clicking together in Doctor Mordenheim's mind! “KD? Art? Did you do the covers and illustrations for Daring Do and the Secret of the Apploosa Cave? The Adventure of the Singing Sands? The Nippony Diamond?”

KD nodded, clearly pleased. “All three! Why?”

Acting like a foal as he was going to his book shelf, Mordenheim snagged all three books and returned to his desk. “I love your art, KD, would you please autograph these for me?”

With an impishly evil grin, displaying her big dragon chompers, KD replied, “Sure!” She was reaching into the bag. “Just as soon as I snack on this muffin! Or, you make this bag harmless!”

Grinning right back, and revealing a set of fangs that would not have been out of place in a tiger shark, Mordenheim replied, hoof over heart, “You wound me! I was going to do that anyway. You did not need blackmail me. It did make it more fun, though!”

KD chuckled as she said, “I would not really have done it, Doc. It was just too much fun to pass up the chance. So, tell us, why did you make a bag like this?”

Reassured that we did not hold his apparent past against him, he sat back comfortably and half smiled at the memory. “Revenge. Count Sourbottom was being a problem, objecting to some of my experi . . . projects. He had a whole herd of foals of all ages. One of the youngsters had a birthday party coming up. I set up one of these for each of them! Loaded them with the finest, sweetest candies that I could locate. It was a near perfect revenge.”

Always interested in more ways to get back at ponykind for their mistreatment of me in the past, I asked, “How was giving his foals candy any sort of revenge?”

Suddenly, Coalsmoke put a hoof to her lips to suppress giggles. “Don't you see it, Grumpy? He couldn't take them away for discipline because the bags will go right back to the foals. Worse, the endless supply of sweets could cause all sorts of health and mouth problems that the Count would have to pay for!”

Mordenheim nodded happy agreement. “Last that I heard, Count Sourbottom was headed for bankruptcy on dental bills alone!”

Going more serious, he offered, “KD, we may be able to save the gem topping of your muffins if we are lucky. Would you like that?”

KD replied seriously, “That would be great, if we can do it. I really like their flavor, especially the crushed rubies. How can we do it?”

Doctor Mordenheim picked up the bag and headed for the outside door. Over his shoulder, he invited, “Come outside for a simple little experiment. We can save the gems themselves for sure. Question is whether we can save the topping that they are in or not.”

He pointed down the yellow cobble road leading to his door. “Now, my dear, take a muffin out of the bag but don't eat it.”

Mystified, she hoofed over the muffin. “I understand why I have to get it out, but why not eat it? What are we going to do with it?”

With total assurance, Doctor Mordenheim replied, “You are going to eat it but in parts. Here, let me scrape off the topping.” Carefully he removed the topping, taking none of the muffin itself. “Just eat the topping. I will hold the muffin for now.”

With obvious relish, KD did. Licking it off her claws, she asked, “What now? I like this test!”

“We wait a bit to see if you get gas. If you don't, the zinc is only in the muffin part.”

KD cocked her head, brow wrinkled in concentration. “I don't feel any gas coming on. That usually happens pretty quick when it does.”

“I see. To finish the test, eat the rest of the muffin now.”

She did. And was soon hiccuping blasts of flame.

Nodding in confirmation, he said, “Just in the muffin then. We can definitely save the topping for you. Would you like just this topping or would you prefer it on something?”

“As it happens, I do have something that it might go good on.”

Back inside, she produced a bag. We all saw Mordenheim's nose dilate as he caught the scent. His ears shot forward in interest. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth!

“What is that lovely smelling stuff, KD?”

“Gator Chow. I got it from Pinkie Pie over on the bridge. She told me that it is made from smoked and flaked meat pressed into bite sized chunks.”

Both Coalsmoke and I were rolling on the floor, laughing! Getting myself somewhat under control, I commented, “Those teeth of yours are real, aren't they, Doc?”

“Yes, they are. Is it a problem?”

Coalsmoke, composing herself comfortably on a large cushion, replied, “Not for us. It was just unexpected. Looks like Pinkie is going to have to stock in more Gator Chow, is all.

“This explains why Caramel has mentioned you eating there a lot but I haven't seen you, and I eat there too. You eat in the back, in her carnivore plaza.”

“Right. Now, KD, those Gator Chow chunks are just about muffin sized. That is about as big as the bag can handle. It is time to disarm the bag from those bad muffins.”

He got a large, heavy book from the shelf. Instead of consulting it, he held it at the ready.

“Now, KD, take the muffin out and move your paws away from the bag swiftly.”

As she did, he slammed the book down on top of the bag! He held it down for around a whole minute. Relaxing, he pronounced, the spell is reset. It can now be reloaded and set to anyone. Just a sec.”

He went into the back and returned with salad tongs and a spreading knife. Selecting one of KD's chow chunks, he carefully and neatly spread the gem topping onto it. Taking the tongs, he used them to insert the topped chow chunk into the bag.

“Now, KD, just reach into the bag and take out the snack. That will reset the bag to you with a safe treat. You also now know how to change treats any time that you want.”

Saying, “Thanks, Doc!” KD fished out the treat and nibbled it down with gusto!

I was watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes that I don't really have. Thinking it over, I pointed out, “KD, whoever set you up was at the show in Manehatten. The way it works, that spell didn't lock onto you until you took out that first muffin.

“It may be time for a contract or a bit of detective work in Manehatten. Perhaps both.”

Thoughtfully she suggested, “There is another big art show in Manehatten in a few days. I do have a studio there with some finished pieces that I could enter if I could get there in time. That would give us the cover that we need for detective work if we can arrive in time.”

I suggested, “If time is a problem, I could try setting up a portal between here and the Manehatten fairgrounds. It has been a while since I studied that but it is really pretty simple magic.”

We all trooped outside and I began the really pretty basic preparations for opening a portal spell. I did add a whole lot of “stage dressing” rituals, circles and other misdirection. I always do. Better showmanship and it hides what makes it work from prying eyes, even if they are watching.

A glowing circle appeared in the air, just in front of us and barely touching the ground. Suddenly it began to grow, becoming a huge oval. Something enormous, making a steady pulsing roar and clanking like metal was coming toward us!

First, pretty high up, came a sort of short crossways tube with a hole in it on the side facing us. The thing continued to advance. That funny bit was attached to a long metal tube! Down lower, some big metal plates appeared and then between them an enormous bridge of metal. Huge wheels of steel supported endless linked plates of more steel!

As the contraption came on out, it was revealed to be a gigantic machine of some sort! It had sloped sides up to a heavy device on top that the long tube came out of. That had sloped sides too, as if this thing were made to bounce catapult shots off of it! There were some serious dents and obvious repairs that made it seem that those slopes were strictly functional!

Sticking her head up out of a hatch in the top was a pony who looked for all the world like Rainbow Dash! Reinforcing that idea was a brown pegasus with a black mane and tail clinging to the rear of the machine and calling out loudly enough to be heard over the machine's roar!

“Dashie! Stop! You going to smash through garden wall again! You crush Jade's herb garden again! You so grounded!”

Dashie retorted, “I not hit wall, dad! Big blue hole show up. I drive through that! Besides, last time I drive through Jade's herb garden, I fix it better than before. She ask me to squash it again!”

“And one more thing! Dashie, you make me good hot tea or you so grounded you need dig up for thousand year to see daylight!”

Innocently she shot back, “If I that grounded, I make you nice tea that De Writer send for me to get you! It his idea to get it with remote control T82 Main Battle Tank! If I NOT grounded, I MIGHT be able to find you nice green tea that he never touch!”

The brown pegasus sat hard. “De Writer ask you to use Remote Control T82 IN CANTERLOT for that tea? You not so grounded as I thought.”

The one identified as Dashie noticed us from her vantage point, high up in the top part of the T82. She picked up a small boxy thing with buttons and levers and pushed one of the buttons. The T82's loud grumbling fell quiet.

“Um, Dad, we come through portal, I think. You not teach me that magic yet. There ponies here and a dragon. Come around T82 and you see. There small castle here too.”

The brown pegasus stepped around the metal monster and courteously introduced, “I Thomas the Writer. Miscreant who drive T82 through your portal my daughter Dashie Writer. T82 is educational toy give her by De Writer.”

Mordenheim looked up at the behemoth of steel and remarked, “Where you are from has different ideas about educational toys than any place I have ever been.”

Dashie replied, “It crazy where we from too, but what you expect from powerful wizard like De Writer? Something safe? He good to have on your side when trouble come, though.”

She turned about and exclaimed, “The portal gone!”

It was true. Standing where it had been was a familiar cat otter hybrid with red hair. She was wearing a well worn cloak of dark green and light seeming chain mail. Mithril by the look of it. Her left arm was a prosthesis, a mechanical arm of metal that moved in an utterly natural way. Under the cloak was the scabbard of a large sword. In her mechanical hand was a parchment that looked like a map of some sort.

She tucked away the map in a pouch at her waist and looked about, her gaze missing nothing. Smiling, she waived! “Hi, Grumpy! It's me, Wind! We met at Ponyville Fair, remember? I am part of Marchhare's band of Rom. I was going to meet them at Haymarket fair, up north, but this out of control portal got in the way. I took the liberty of closing it.”

Thomas gave Wind a strangely puzzled look. “This world with Marchhare in it?”

She shrugged, “I wouldn't be going to meet him and his band if it wasn't! Why?”

Speaking to Dashie, Thomas said, “This important lesson, Dashie. How many worlds in multiverse?”

She replied, “Infinite. Everyone and thing have infinite copies, each a little different.” Raising her eyebrows in thought, she added, “This a trick question, isn't it, Dad?”

“Sort of. You very quick. Every rule have exception, right?”

Putting hoof to chin, she thought and then went wide eyed with realization! “Every rule have exception, even that rule!”

Thomas lifted his wings in pleasure. “Right! This ONLY world in whole multiverse that have Marchhare! That is secret to navigation when go between worlds.”

Dashie blinked. “What happen when he dies?”

“Nothing, Dashie. Marchhare already dead. Not die twice.”

We were all listening in amazement. It was newcomer Wind who said, “That is sort of a relief. That there is only one of my foster dad, I mean. I have met some of myself and it was not the best of experiences!”

She put her jaw in her metal hand and examined the whole situation carefully. Turning to me she asked, “Did you cast the portal, Grumpy?”

Scraping the grass where I was standing with one nonexistent forehoof and looking down, I muttered, “Afraid so. Portals are not really my specialty. I guess that I really messed this one up.”

Wind stepped over and lifted my glamor's head to look me in the eye. “I am an expert with portals. That one was really well done. It would have worked perfectly if you had not cast it here. The Everfree's Hidden Ways are what messed you up.

“Now, where were you trying to go?”

KD interjected, “We were aiming for the fairgrounds at Manehatten by the Sea.”

Wind nodded in a very take charge sort of way. “I see. That is about 6 or 7 hundred kilometers from here.”

Leaning casually up against the iron monster called T82, Wind asked, “Does this thing have personnel and cargo railings and how fast is it, uh, Dashie?”

Dashie brightened up as she replied, “It sure does have safety railings! I use them when I give Mia and Becky rides. It can go as far as you want. Out in the open, it can hit 100 kilometers an hour! How did you know about that?”

Wind gave a delicate shudder, “I have adventured on a few worlds where similar machines were used. I saw the passenger railings on some of them.”

Wind smiled ingratiatingly at Thomas. “Would you be willing to let Dashie take us all on an Adventure to Manehatten by the Sea? It will get these nice beings where they need to go and be fun for us all. From there, I can easily send you both back home.”

Dashie had hopped out of the top of the T82 and began releasing catches and lifting up metal railings. They clicked as they locked into place. When she was done, she lowered a set of steep metal stairs to climb up onto the back of her “educational toy.”

Thomas watched with a skeptical lift to his right eyebrow. “I not say we go, Dashie.”

She looked him straight back in the eye as she retorted, in front of us all, “Right. All that you have to do is tell our hosts that you won't do something simple and fun to help them.”

“That blackmail, Dashie!”

“Right. Between you and our De Writer, I learn from the best!”

He chuckled, “OK. We do it.”

Wind swung easily up the boarding stair and called, “All aboard for the Manehatten Express!”

KD swarmed up, found the engine vents, and curled up with a “Dibs on the warm spot!”

Coalsmoke gently pushed me toward the enormous device with, “I would love to go too, Grumpy, but I have serious business to talk over with Victor. The Princesses want to set up a program for helping wounded veterans of their armies.”

Dashie started the T82 and made a big turn. Wind guiding her, we set out for Adventure! And Manehatten.

Technically, we took Doctor Mordenheim's path down to the Falmire cutoff and turned south towards the junction with Royal Road 315. For some reason, the busy traffic of Ponyville's industrial district gave way before us, even when it had the right of way! Couldn't imagine why! Surely it had nothing to do with fifty or more tonnes of steel monstrosity charging along at a “mere” twenty kilometers per hour.

We reached the Royal Road toll booth without incident. Almost had an incident there. The poor booth keepers were going nuts trying to sort out the proper toll.

Pages were fluttering back and forth in their toll manuals, “It ain't a cart or wagon from any section! Darn thing is made out of iron like a fool locomotive on the railroad!”

“I know, Jeb! Can't even classify it by team size or set up! It runs itself!”

Wind was sitting on the edge of the turret, which Dashie had taught us was the name for that upper part with the long pipe sticking out of it, and giggling at the small uproar.

“When Marchhare hears about this, he will split his harness, he will laugh so hard!”

One of the toll collectors looked up at her and got a beatific smile. “You are Wind, from Marchhare's band of Rom, right? I saw you at our fair a couple of times.”

She nodded acknowledgment, “Yes, Sir. I am.”

He turned to his buddy and pushed the manuals shut. “Just write Rom from Marchhare's band, toll free by Crowns Law.”

Jeb did write, though he was still trying to protest. His superior shut him down with, “Jeb, like enough you are right. Still, it solves OUR problem.” He tripped the gate mechanism and the flimsy red and white painted wooden bar lifted up out of our way.

We pulled onto the Royal Road. Besides less traffic, it was wider and better maintained than the Ponyville road we had come from. Dashie began to open up the speed once we had clear road ahead of us. I must say, I was impressed. Dashie was not kidding about hitting a hundred kilometers an hour!

The T82 was fast and high enough that we had to duck shade tree branches! A delighted KD had her sketchbook out and was rapidly drawing things from her high perspective!

Chortling, she explained, “Even as roughs, some of these will adapt to pictures for my book contract! This is great!”

Wind steered us into one of the many waysides, making Dashie slow down and drive gently as we parked for the evening. With assurance, she showed us where the free water and firewood were.

With a fond smile, Wind recalled, “I have camped here before, while traveling with Dad's band. There is a small stream over in the bushes that we can get fresh fish and crawdads out of for a nice dinner.”

KD had out an easel and was busily drawing with colors. She was doing the T82 framed by a sunset of riotous clouds and glowing light.

She asked politely, “Wind, would you be so good as to pose there, just below the turret? I want your metal arm just casually holding something and your sword out in your right hand, ready but not on a guard.”

Wind did pose. It really did not take KD long at all to capture the feeling of the scene. The way that Wind was posing, it looked for all the world like she OWNED the metal monster behind her!

Done posing, Wind stretched and began doing limbering up exercises. With an expression of delight, and without even thinking about it, Wind began to dance and sing in a language strange to all of us. I did recognize it from my times at the Ponyville fair, serving mainly as security for Caramel Treat's excellent food booth. The language was Gyptian, the sort of private and held secret, nearly melodious tongue of the Rom. I did recognize the dance.

She was treating us to the Shehan Ja Rom, their story of how the Rom came to be. I gather that it is the oldest dance and song of the Rom. As her dance and song finished, I remembered that the Rom did not clap for applause. I leaned my head back and gave the loud trill that the Rom use.

Wind looked sort of startled as the others followed suit. Embarrassed, she mumbled, “Sorry. It was just the joy of being on the road again.”

It was KD who said it, “Don't be sorry. It was lovely. Is there an Equestrian translation?”

I put in, “I know that there is. That was the famous Shehan Ja Rom. The Rom traditionally dance and sing it in an Equestrian version to open fairs. What I am curious about is how Wind, who is nothing like any horse or pony, came to be a Rom and of Marchhare's band at that.”

Wind sat near the fire and absently began to assemble vegetable skewers for Dashie, Thomas and I. “I made a little mistake while adventuring. I survived it, obviously. Mama Dragon fixed me up and sent me here, to this Equestria to finish healing and recuperate. De Writer met me and steered me to Marchhare's band.

“Good thing, too. One of my wounds developed a small inflammation that could have killed me. Black Lotus, Marchhare and Hoof Dancer, his wife at the time, healed me. Mama Dragon was wise in sending me to them for a month. I had more than physical wounds to heal. I joined them and learned to read, write and speak Gyptian. Having a real caring and extended family provided the rest of the healing that I needed. Now, I have my Freedom and I can come and go as I wish, but my Rom family is always there for me.”

I could tell that there was a lot left out but Wind cut her tale off without harming her tail by asking, “Grumpy, will you tend these skewers for me while I go catch some fish, crawdads and a bunny or two for dinner to share with KD?”

I realized at once that besides being an adventurer, Wind was quite diplomatic. She had just reminded the lot of us that KD had not eaten all day, except for snacks, and that both she and Wind were carnivores. Possibly hungry carnivores.

Dashie took off too, calling, “Wind! Wait up! I want see how you hunt and fish without fancy gear.”

Wind looked back, nodded and then beckoned with a finger curl. As soon as Dashie was up to her, Wind slid into the brush without a sound. Dashie, trying to follow was pretty quiet.

Coming to the creek bank, Wind laid flat and wriggled forward on her stomach. Carefully parting the small thin wands of the bank willows, she slid her right arm into the water, reaching back, under the cut bank. Her face screwed up with concentration, she eased her hand up, feeling for a fish. Smiling, she slid her hand further up and grabbed!

Rolling back and lifting, Wind flipped the good sized trout out onto the bank! She caught the flopping creature and bent its head back to break its neck. She snipped off a thin bank willow strand with her knife and laced it through the fish's gills and out the mouth. Loosely knotting the ends, she hung the fish up and repeated the trick three more times!

Dashie was watching with awe. “I never even hear of fishing that way! How you do it?”

Wind picked up her willow loop with fish and replied, “It takes practice to tickle trout but it is not really hard. You need to be careful and gentle. When you feel the fish with your fingers, you need to work your way up until you feel the pectoral fins, those just behind the gills. Snap your fingers into the gills and lift it out quickly.

“Now for a nice brace of bunnies and dinner will ready to cook.”

Dashie, keeping her voice down, asked, “I see warren right over there. How you catch them? Some kind of trap?”

Wind, following Dashie's pointing hoof, shook her head. “I could, and if we were going to be here longer, I would set some snares. Since it is only dinner and breakfast, I will just pounce them. It is easier and quicker.”

Dashie watched Wind ghost her way through the brush toward the warren. Choosing her place, she waited, a bunched spring of living huntress. Nothing moved except for the tip of her tail twitching slightly. It was only a few minutes before a bunny hopped lazily toward one of the main holes of the warren. Wind's pounce included a fast chop with her metal hand! The bunny only twitched once before going still.

Wind quietly picked a different spot and soon had a second bunny!

Bearing her prey, Wind and Dashie returned to camp. ��On their way, Wind asked, “Why did you want to see how I got fish and bunnies? Most ponies really don't want to see that.”

Face flaming a little with embarrassment, Dashie replied, “I am sort of, like half dragon. I turn into one if I need to or want to. Thing is, I not very good at getting meat to eat! I have to turn back to a pony and graze up dinner! There are times that really inconvenient!”

Wind chuckled. “I can see that! We have one more stop before Manehatten by the Sea. I will take you out hunting there too, OK?”

Back at camp, Wind considerately went to the other side of the T82 to clean and prepare her catch. A lightly drooling KD went to help! They both returned to the camp, licking their lips and smiling. They were finishing up with some of KD's endless supply of Gator Chow. Wind had carefully cleaned off the gem topping from hers and used it to enhance KD's snack.

As we were settling about the fire, Dashie asked, “Um, Wind, did Rom hold you prisoner some way? You say you have your freedom.”

Wind chuckled at the misunderstanding. “No, Dashie. The Rom Freedom is a thing that they wear. Here, I have mine in my bag.”

She reached into her bag at her waist and her arm seemed to go in further than was possible. She saw us staring and snorted her amusement. “It is called a bag of holding. It is sort of like Marchhare's caravan. It is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Here it it is!”

Stopping her rummaging, she pulled out a sort of headstall thing of richly tooled and dyed leather with rings and buckles that looked to be gold. She strapped it on.

“This is a Freedom of the Rom. They grant them only to beings that they have fully accepted as one of their own.”

“Why is call a Freedom?” Dashie wondered.

Wind lifted her chin with pride. “The original cast off slaves that were the first Rom wore a headstall with a bit and lead ring. They had them all their lives and were not comfortable without something on their heads. They re made them into the Freedom by taking away anything by which they could be made to serve another. No bit or lead ring has ruled any Rom from that day to this.” Very carefully, Wind removed her Freedom and put it away.

KD had curled into an amazingly hard to see coil of dragon to sleep until dawn. The rest of us were spreading blankets to sleep under the stars.

A wagon full of road repair tools and an accompanying work gang of ponies pulled into the rest area. A couple of them strode arrogantly to our camp and demanded, “We are hungry! What ever food you got, hoof it over now! You don't, we gonna take sledgehammers to that there tin thingy!”

I gently prodded the almost sleeping dragon in our midst. KD had been paying attention! Her head rose up, eyes alight. A curl of flame showing at each nostril and outlining her barely opened jaws completed the picture!

She serenely asked, “What? More dinner? I'm not sure that I could hold another whole pony. Mind if we just sort of pack along the leftovers for lunch?”

Dashie had lifted a fully draconic head. In the late evening's light we could not make out her color but we could easily make out the totally paling ponies!

“What! They got TWO DRAGONS!”

Dashie corrected, “No. Two HUNGRY dragons!”

Dashie was giggling at the frantic retreat of the two jerks! Got to admit to some chuckles of my own. KD's sides were heaving as she re coiled herself.

Dashie got up onto all fours. In the dying firelight, she could be seen to be a light blue color. She flexed her wings a couple of times and strolled over to where the road crew ponies were carelessly re packing to leave. In terror but not so terrified that they were willing to have to pay for abandoned gear!

One thoughtlessly yelled, “Road camp privacy! Stay away, that is kingdom law!”

Wind, who was almost unnoticed at Dashie's right front leg, calmly pointed out, “You have just admitted that you knew that you were breaking kingdom law when you tried to hijack our dinner. In your haste to correct your error, you dropped your sledgehammers. Here!”

Wind revealed a hidden strength by casually giving the heavy hammers an underhand toss. Both hammers overshot the wagon and hit the turf on the other side of it.

That got the attention of the road crew ponies! One noticed, “How come you only got one arm?”

Smiling angelically, which showed off her fangs nicely, Wind reached up with her metal left arm and scritched at the base of Dashie's left dragon horn as she replied, “What, this?” Campfire light glinting from her metal arm, she said casually, “Kitten here, and I got to roughhousing last week! She was a little too enthusiastic, that's all.”

Dashie, catching on to the game, bent her head around and gave Wind a lick at the shoulder and said contritely, “I said that I was sorry! We just need to find a Phoenix potion so that you can regrow it. Again.”

They strolled back to our camp, Wind taking the time to re hang her cloak to sort of hide her metal arm. Thomas, Dashie, now turned back to a pegasus, and I nibbled up Wind's excellent fruit and vegetable skewers.

Wind toasted the last of the bunnies and trout over KD's flame and shared that extra bit dinner with her. Dashie “sneaked” over and turned back to a dragon to beg a few bites. Grinning, they let her have some.

Sleeping out in the open, I did not have my usual nightmares of a Celestian Church mob burning my home, studies, and, failing to trap me in the house, attempting to stone me to death. Perhaps my feelings of safety came of sleeping beside a big blue dragon? One that liked me? Very likely.

It could not last. For one thing, dawn comes far too soon for a cave dwelling goat like me. The other was a light blue bundle of enthusiasm with rainbow mane and tail! Dashie was bounding into camp! She was waiving a forked stick with three big fat trout on it! It was laced through their gills and out their mouths, with the forked branch acting as a stop to keep them from sliding off.

“I did it, Wind! I tickle trout just like you show me how!”

Wind looked up from laying the morning cook fire. Her grin showed her usually hidden fangs as she replied, “Just like I showed you? Not sure how to point this out diplomatically but you don't have any fingers to do it with.”

Totally disingenuous, Dashie replied, “I just use my magic like you show with hand. It not hard. Real trick was find where fish hide. You show me that. They too quick to catch if just grab. Gentle tickle is trick.”

Both KD and I were listening with rapt attention. It was clear that Thomas and Dashie's Equestria was very different from this one. As they talked, that became more and more apparent.

“Does your magic come from being a weredragon?”

“Only a little. Most I learn from Dad. He one of two most powerful beings in our Equestria. Be honest, I think De Writer worst. Super strong magic and wicked sense of humor. And bored. He three thousand years old. Raise Princesses.”

“I see. Do other pegassi use magic where you come from?”

“Not really. Dad figure out that there more magic in world than Earth, Pegassi, and Unicorn. It come from his mom, Aurora, the Demon Queen.”

We all looked askance at the innocent appearing brown pegasus. This was getting more and more interesting all the time.

Wind just nodded, took the fish and efficiently set about preparing them. She also pulled some fresh looking apples and peaches out of the bag at her waist. She expertly split them into proper chunks and dropped them into a pot. She added a little fresh water and, reaching into her bag of holding, pulled out a box with many drawers and bottles, a jar with a sealed top and a small flour bag.

I was sort of amazed, watching the sheer skill with which Wind organized breakfast. She even had water on heating in a biggish pot. She added some from the sealed bottle. The camp filled with the heavenly aroma of Rom black tea!

Satisfied with the progress of the fruits in the pot, she added sugar, cinnamon from one of the drawers of the box and stirred in the flour to thicken it.

It smelled heavenly, not like regular flour at all. Wind closed the bag and returned box, bag and jar to her bag of holding. She saw my calculating look as I watched it all happening.

Wrinkling her nose in amusement, she explained, “Ka'chek flour. A Rom without it? Unheard of!”

Breakfast lived up to the lovely scents, and then some.

Wind, KD and Dashie went to the other side of the T82 to fix and eat the trout. Coming back, Dashie and KD were finishing up gem topped Gator Chows and Wind was nibbling at one with the topping removed.

While they were eating, the rest of us cleaned up all the cookware and put out the fire. We especially cleaned out the fruit stew pot! Nearly came to blows over who got to lick it out! Good sense prevailed and we took turns licking parts of it. Then, we washed it. We did have one thing unwashed.

We saved Wind the last mug of Rom black tea. Smiling at our courtesy, Wind drained it and saw to proper washing of the mug. She then caused us all a small croggle of the mind by causally putting all of the clean cookware and dishes into her bag of holding!

We all piled onto the remote controlled T82 and Dashie got us on the road again!

I noticed that Wind was wearing her Freedom and had put on a harness. It was as richly tooled and dyed as her freedom. They were clearly a matched set.

While KD was busy with her art, making fast sketches of the lands that we were passing through, I made bold to ask, “Why the Rom outfit? This is not exactly a caravan.”

Wind giggled at some joke that I did not understand as she replied, “Actually, it is. You just have to understand what caravan means. It is a loan word from the desert Kingdoms that was already in use by the time that the first Rom came here. In their language of Gyptian, it means something slightly different from how it is used in Equestrian.

“It is just that there is a road section toll gate coming up in a little. Me being dressed this way should get us through the gate for free.”

Nodding acceptance for her reason, I turned my attention to Thomas, who was trying hard to act like an adult pegasus, rather than a colt having the time of his life.

I guessed, “You have not ridden on Dashie's T82 before, have you Thomas?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he admitted, “Never before this. I think that she get to play with it more but need daddy supervision!”

I was chuckling at that when we all felt the iron monster slowing down. Wind, pointing ahead, made clear exactly why. There was the toll booth with its light weight red and white bar across the road. There was a substantial cabin in back of it for use of the toll collectors when off duty and out here, kilometers from any town. A sign said, WELCOME TO THE MANEHATTEN ROYAL ROAD SECTION.

Wind hopped off the top of the huge left tread guard of the T82 and greeted the toll takers, “Hi! What do you think of my new act? Just doing a shake down run to IRON out any problems! We are promised entertainment for the big art show.”

The utterly bemused light yellow toll collector turned to his lavender buddy and shook his head. Pushing the toll manual shut he said, “Rom. No accounting for 'em. Just write Rom, toll free by Crowns Law.”

He tripped the mechanism and the toll gate rose up out of our way.

As the mechanical behemoth passed through the gate, Wind trotted after and swung up the steel boarding stair and resumed her place on top of the turret, next to Dashie.

We had passed two of the Waysides when Wind guided Dashie into one that seemed empty. It was nowhere near noon, yet.

“Thanks, Dashie! There is a friend here that I want to talk to. It would have been rude to just go by and not say Hi.”

With that, she bounced off the turret, grabbed what we had learned was called the Main Gun, and swung, letting go and landing lightly. She sprinted over to the edge of the woods.

Sitting suddenly, she quietly reached out and laid a sparkling pebble among many others in that spot. She said, “Hanar Na Kili.” We could not make out the rest. It was all in Gyptian. It contained pauses as if she was listening to what another was saying. The conversation was soon over.

Wind got up, smiling serenely, and returned to us. Dashie had turned to a dragon so that she and KD could share a couple of KD's gator chows.

Wind suggested, “We could get going, now. The Loved Dead are always with us. Hanar and I had a nice chat.”

It was slowly percolating through the brain that I don't really have, just how different Rom are. And I have known them, shared food with them and talked with them for years. They have even been guests in my cave. I have heard that expression, the Loved Dead are always with us hundreds of times. I have heard about Laying the Stones goodness only knows how many times. This was the first time that I had seen it.

Seeing how Wind treated it, both casually and with absolute assurance, as if the horse in that grave that the Rom call a Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, or Lake for short, was really there, made it hit me like a gut punch.

I knew, like everybeing in Equestria that the ONE THING THAT YOU DO NOT DO is desecrate any Wayside burial. Ponies who die more than two days travel from their homes are entitled to a Wayside burial. It is a Royal Benefice. The graves are marked and tended as part of Wayside maintenance.

All Rom who die get a Wayside burial, that they call a Lake or going to the Lake. They lay small, inexpensive, but pretty pebbles on them to mark them.

Desecration of a Rom Lake will bring the Princesses in person to investigate. The criminals WILL get caught. Penalties are HARSH. They range from twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads up to life. The worst offenders, who have actually exhumed Rom remains get a punishment worse than simple death.

They get life in the Twins Mine, digging mercury ore. The fumes destroy the mind and wrack the body. After the first few such grave robberies, centuries ago, no pony in their right mind will risk that.

Wind looked so quietly happy that I had to wonder whether there was any truth to the Rom belief in the Lake of Paradise.

Dashie finished her snack and changed back to a pegasus. We all piled back onto the T82 educational toy and hit the road again. It was not long before we came to a bridge across a stream.

It was a nice, well built and solid bridge. It was clear that it was not made to take the sheer mass of the T82.

Dashie, following Wind's suggestions and pointing, reversed the T82 for about fifty or sixty meters. There, she eased off the road and headed toward the stream. She stopped short, while Wind scouted ahead, dropping down the stream bank and checking the bottom to be sure that it would hold up the tank.

Returning, she suggested to the others, “I think that you should get off and use the bridge on foot. This will be a wild ride!”

KD pointed to the line of ten to fifteen centimeter diameter trees that lined both sides of the stream skeptically. “Um, not to cast doubt or anything, but how do you plan to get this thing past those?”

Wind replied quietly, “I have seen machines like this, doing what they were designed to do. I don't think that it will be a difficult problem.”

KD and Thomas both looked into Wind's eyes and saw reflected experiences that they did not want to share. Neither did I. Thomas just said, “T82 break trees in orchard before this. I take Wind's advice.”

Nodding, KD followed him, saying, “Let me get to the center of the bridge and get my sketchbook out! I don't want to miss this!”

Figuring that the center of the bridge would have the best view of the proceedings. I joined them.

That was when I noticed something completely uncanny. As big and heavy as the T82 was, there was no sign of its driving across the grass and brush to get to the stream. Looking back, I saw that the road was in perfect condition, too.

I pointed it out to the one here who might know something about it. Thomas snickered happily, “Yes, know already. You not say anything to Dashie but she very good with magic of rock and stone. Also with magic of plants. She fix what educational toy do as it happen most time.”

Just then, it started. The T82 let out a loud roar and charged the treeline! There was a splintering set of crashing sounds as it struck the innocent vegetation! The trees did not stand a chance! They swayed, cracked and buckled, falling down into the stream as the “toy” crunched over them, tipping down steeply as it plunged into the stream! With a huge splash, followed by the churning up of rock, gravels and white water, the machine charged the opposite bank!

As it hit, I began to appreciate the ingenuity of the linked steel belts that the T82 ran on. There was a slope at the front before the treads hit the ground. Now, that slope let the machine claw its way up the bank, tilting back steeply as its momentum and driving tracks forced it up, pushing the trees aside and down while it topped the bank!

Dashie drove her “toy” up to the road's edge and parked it. She bailed out and took wing to the other side of the stream. Landing in the water, she transformed into her dragon self!

She called, “Dad! KD! Will you help please!?”

She was lifting the fallen trees back into their places, on the stumps that they had broken off from. While she was at it, I could see her magic going into the stems and branches, binding together cracks and breaks.

KD loped down and joined her. “What can I do, Dashie? I don't know anything about this kind of magic.”

“Just hold trunk up while I fix break and roots.”

Thomas strolled down and waded into the stream. He started repairing cracks and breaks in the wood of the fallen trees to speed things along.

Wind and I sat on the bridge rail and watched them work. She commented, “Ah, hard work! I can sit and watch it for simply hours!”

It really did not take all that long for the party to restore all the trees and larger brush, leaving almost no sign that the massive T82 had charged through there.

KD said it for all of us, as we climbed back aboard the T82, “I never even heard of magic like that before!”

As she was settling into the turret and picking up the remote control, Dashie shrugged. “All world each a little different. Some thing go from world to world, some not. Magic dad teach me, it work.”

Not too much later, we pulled into a Wayside to fix lunch. Some heavy freight dray ponies were already camped there, so Dashie parked us at a site well away from them, to give them camp privacy.

They stomped over to us just as Wind was setting a large pot of water to heat.

“Whatever you gots to eat gotta be better than our road ration oats! Hoof it over! We even got you a bag of oats to make it a fair trade!”

Dashie quelled Wind before she could say anything. She gestured for KD to stay hidden behind the T82. Pretending to quail some, she replied, “We just stop for ordinary tea before go on. Got special box tea need to be deliver.”

Thomas, sounding indignant, demanded, “No! Dashie, that tea special! Got to go to Castle . . .”

“They meaner than us, Dad! I give them one packet. Only make them a couple of gallon.”

She ducked down into the T82's interior and returned with a modest package wrapped in gold colored foil.

She made a point of securing the oats before giving them the package. “We going be in much trouble for this. Oats is least you can do.”

As they retreated, I noticed that Thomas had a diabolical grin. Dashie, on the other hoof, simply hopped up on the T82 and tripped something on her control box.

The turret turned and the main gun lowered some. It pointed the big main gun directly at the drover's camp.

All that Thomas would say was, “It De Writer tea. Never know what happen. Best be safe!”

Wind's ears perked up! Almost too casually, she asked, “Is that thing loaded?”

Dashie sort of shrank a bit as she replied, “Yes. Have five case ammo. Two explosive, three solid shot. Five round in each case. De Writer give them to me when I get tea. Dad not like me have it.”

“OOPS! No time talk now! They getting water boiling!”

KD sidled up to Wind, “You seem to know a lot about this thing. Just how dangerous is it?”

Wind put an arm over KD's neck as she replied, “That depends on which kind of round Dashie has in the gun. A solid shot will rip a crater about two or three meters across. The flying dirt and stone from the fire place will make a deadly spray.

“If it is an explosive round, it will blast a hole about five or six meters across. It will scatter fragments of the shell and any loose stone or dirt too.

“Yes, the T82 could wreck any ordinary fortress in Equestria.”

KD was chortling, “I hope that the tea is worth a shot! Not only would I like to see that, I did not like those ponies at all.”

Thomas overheard and replied, “They not get hurt. De Writer not crazy. Have spell on T82 it not hurt any pony or intelligent being. Can do much property damage. That educational part of toy. Dashie get to fix up damage. Study hard her magics since she get it from De Writer!”

The wayside ponies added the tea to the water boiling in their big kettle.

As they did, Thomas asked urgently, “What De Writer say about brew tea?”

Dashie's brow wrinkled, “He say make in ceramic pot only a little at a time. It good for cold morning!”

Just then the flames began in the drover's big kettle of boiling water! They burst up in a great gout of blue and yellow fire! We could feel the heat from where we were! The sides of the big iron pot glowed red, then yellow! They began to melt!

In only seconds, the sides gave way and the tea gushed out, drowning the campfire, not that it was much help! The wood instantly went to ash! The tea soaked into the bottom of the fire place and the flames slowly subsided.

The heat had driven the drovers away from camp and wagon. The whole side of the wagon that had been facing the tea was charred. There were small wisps of smoke arising from it here and there.

Thomas was sitting on his rump laughing. “Now know why fix in ceramic pot and only little at a time! Definitely good for cold morning!”

While the drovers were frantically hitching up and hauling out of there, Thomas was thoughtfully heating water in an iron pot. He called up, “Dashie! Packet tea. Small measure. Ceramic pot I know you got in there!”

She popped up out of the hatch and gave Thomas the things that he had asked for. KD, who could breathe fire, quietly backed up.

Dashie saw it and reasured her, “With De Writer tea, follow direction important. We see what NOT do.”

Thomas added boiling water to the small, indeed tiny, measure of tea in the pot. Flame poured out the spout and leaked around the lid. It soon died. Thomas poured a small cup and smelled it.

“Have good nose.” He sipped. Eyes wide, he exclaimed, “This one of De Writer's best teas yet! Try some, Dashie!”

She promptly poured a cup for herself. “It good dad! Thanks!”

Wind added vegetables to her pot of boiling water and soon the savory scent of vegetable stew filled the camp area.

While it was cooking, she took Dashie and they entered the woods. It was not long before they returned with a couple of squirrels and a few bunnies. This time, it was Dashie, turned dragon, who toasted the carnivore lunch.

After everything was cleaned up and put away, Dashie strolled over to the camp that the drovers had used. While we watched, she actually pushed a few heat broken stones of the fireplace back to position. Somehow, they stuck. What really got me though was her casually picking up the hardened iron from the melted pot and the original fire grilles and sort of pushed, pulled and squeezed on them to make a good, substantial grill for supporting cook pots. It went into its place. She carefully scouted the camp, leaving bright green grass where it had been fire browned.

A grinning KD got several quick sketches!

Wind reminded us all, “The Manehatten fairgrounds turn off is only about another hour down the road. Shall we be gone?”

It did not actually take us an hour to get there. We all disembarked from the T82 and did stretches.

Among the assorted goodbyes, I heard Wind ask KD, “I am not on a schedule. Mind if I tag along to see your art show?”

I personally, after wishing Thomas and Dashie well, inquired, “Would it be possible for me to get some of that De Writer tea?”

He practically pounced on me! “How much you want? He send a crate of it! Got lots!”

“I could use several packages. Say, five?”

“Dashie! Get Grumpy five packets De Writer tea!”

Her voice muffled by being inside her machine, she retorted, “FIVE? What he want to do? Melt T82?”

As I took the packages of potentially deadly tea, Thomas pointed out, “You know Grumpy do magic. Pony here seem mostly think only unicorn do magic. Grumpy use much ritual and misdirection to keep them from catch on. I bet tea become part of that.”

My already high respect for Thomas went up another big notch. I nodded, “Right, Thomas. Also, once the fire burns off, it makes a really good tea. Right up there with Rom black.”

Wind told the group, “Well, I promised to send you back from here. Is it time to go?”

Though Dashie looked a little downcast, Thomas nodded, “It been fun here, but yes. It time to go home.”

Wind reached into her bag of holding and fished out a thing that looked like a map. She traced out what looked like a route on it with a delicate touch of one claw.

The pale blue oval of a portal big enough to drive a T82 main battle tank through appeared. Thomas climbed the passenger steps, up onto the back of the iron monster and our friends drove through. The portal silently vanished.

I turned to KD. “Which way to the Art Show?”

She nibbled a gator chow treat and pointed. “My studio first! Then off to the show!”

KD snickered, “You two are little! Hop on my back and we will make better time!”

As Wind boosted me up and then leaped up herself, she said, “I could get used to this. Traveling places without having to walk, I mean. First, the T82! That was fun! Now I get to ride dragonback again!”

I looked back, trying not to miss the sight of Manehatten's famously tall buildings. Many of them were over five levels tall! Some, in the downtown area looked to be way taller!

I commented, “Again? You have ridden dragons before?”

“Just one, Grumpy. My daughter Aurixa.”

That gave me real pause. I ventured, “Adopted?”

Sort of. I found her egg out in the wilderness not that far from Mama Dragon's cottage. I was there when Aurixa hatched. She imprinted on me as her mother.

“When she grew up some, we used to play together a lot, including riding her. I love flying on dragonback!

“Anyway, she grew up to where she was too big for that. Last I saw her, Aurixa was bigger than a house. I need to go home to Mama Dragon's and visit her. I miss them.”

We came to a nice two level house in the outskirts of town. The only odd thing about it from the outside was that the door was bigger than usual. KD got out a key and let us in.

The inside WAS unusual! The whole second level floor had been knocked out, leaving a sort of rim around the single large room. It was just the right height to serve as shelves for KD! There were a few scorch marks on the walls, souvenirs of her hiccups!

There were paintings and drawings in profusion! All was neatly organized. Drawings were in X-frames and paintings were racked or stood against the walls.

KD selected a number of drawings, including some from her sketchbooks filled up on the trip here. Truly professional, she framed the drawings and sketches behind glass. She had frames at the ready for her paintings. It took her about an hour and a half for her to be ready.

She put on a harness designed to carry framed work and suggested, “Load me up! The Manehatten Art Show is only about a kilometer from here!

We trudged through some pretty fancy streets and up a hill to a small estate. I giggled when I saw the iron scroll work lettering over the gate.

Wind nudged me and whispered, “Pretty up front about it, aren't they, Grumpy?”

The letters said, “Snob Hill Estate.” Under it was a banner proclaiming, “Snob Hill Art Festival! Opening soon!”

The pony watching the gate seemed both pleased and surprised to see KD. “Krystal! I was told that you would not be able to make this show! Let me announce you to the committee!”

She held him gently back. “Please don't, Edward. I am most curious as to who is saying that I would not come to this show.”

He sort of scraped the pave with a forehoof and looked down as he said, “I am not supposed to gossip about our patrons.”

KD grinned as she flipped him a silver bit. “You said nothing!”

Expertly fielding the coin, he said, “Of course it could not possibly be Drawin Pitcher spreading rumors about you.”

KD grinned, with many teeth, as she replied, “Of course not. Why would a fine artist like Drawin say anything negative about me?

“Oh, Edward, these fine beings are guests of mine.”

We went on in, following KD. She went straight for the main entrance to Snob Hall.

Even before we entered, we heard, “You know, I am really sorry to say that KD not only won't be making this show, it looks like she will have to give up the Daring Do contract.”

As she was about to charge in and confront the speaker, I gave her leg a tug. “Not quite yet, KD. Now, it is contract time. I suspect that this one can be really simple and oral, witnessed by Wind, here.”

I don't think that I have ever seen as many teeth as showed in KD's grin. “What sort of contract do you have in mind, Grumpy? I don't have a hundred gold on me.”

I pointed inside, “I overheard that. I will take one golden bit, ownership of that painting of Wind by the T82, and an autographed copy of the new book when it comes out. Thanks to the one bit, the magic will work.

“You can still enter the painting in the show as an original, on loan from the owner.

My refund terms will be one gold, one silver plus return to your ownership of the other items.

“What will happen is that not only the one who sabotaged you, but any accomplices will reveal their parts in such a way that they will receive the maximum of embarrassment. Attempts to extricate themselves will only dig them deeper.”

KD nodded slowly. “That sound pretty good. Can we include some career help for her, IF AND ONLY IF, she stays on the straight and narrow?”

I nodded, sucking in the cheeks that I don't really have. “I will include that. But only if it will still embarrass her.”

KD's tail wagged in delight, threatening several ornamental plantings! “Done! Here is the bit!.”

There was a brief flash of yellow in the sunlight. I put it in my saddlebag. “Wind, did you witness the contract and it's terms?”

If Wind's feral grin was not answer enough, her, “I did. You have a contract,” was.

KD breezed in through the big ornate doors. Cheerfully she called out, “Sorry to be late but I see that I am still in time for entering my latest works!”

The yellow mare with the green mane and tail that exclaimed, “It's KD! We have to get her out of here!” had to be Drawin Pitcher!

That was confirmed in mere seconds. KD said amiably, “I don't know what you are on about, Drawin! Oh, I see that you have some neat things up already! Let me get a closer look!”

As the blue dragon approached the hanging works, she absently pulled one of her crushed gem topped snacks from the bag. She was holding it so that all that could be seen was the topping. She started to munch it down as she got up close to the drawings and paintings of her rival.

Drawin Pitcher frantically charged KD and pushed her head aside, away from her art. “Please! Don't incinerate my art!”

KD turned her snout to aim directly at Drawin and asked in a mild voice, “Whatever to you mean, Pitcher? Why would I incinerate anypony's art?”

Drawin dodged behind a portly pony who was watching the scene unfold with interest. His cutie mark was a stack of books. He turned to her and, greatly puzzled, asked, “Why are you afraid of KD, Drawin? She has participated in many shows around the kingdom and never any incident like you seem to fear.

“True, last show she got a minor case of hiccups but controlled them and caused no harm at all. Why are you afraid now?”

There was a mumbled reply.

“What? That made no sense at all! What do you mean, it's the muffins?”

KD offered, “You were in industrial chemistry before you became a publisher, right, Mister Hazard?”

“I was.”

“Read this. It will explain most of the problem with the dragon muffins from this bag.” She fished in one of her bags and gave him a folded paper. “It is the Ponyville Police Department's Forensic Chemistry Laboratory report on the dragon muffins from this bag.”

His eyebrows rose sharply at what he read. “Zinc metal? That much in each muffin? No wonder you were having fire blast hiccups! Obviously, that little bag can't have held many of them. Why is she afraid of you now?”

For an answer, KD took a treat out of the bag and gave the bag to Mister Hazard. As she munched the treat, she pointed out, “I just emptied the bag. Notice how it has another treat in it now?” She pointed to a large painting on one wall, “Is that a Clyden Dale?” As he looked, she held up the bag. It had returned.

“See, Mister Hazard, the bag is enchanted by a form of non Equine magic. It always has another treat and it always comes back to me. That is why Drawin is afraid of me. She expects me to erupt in flame at any moment. It won't happen though.”

A despairing Drawin Pitcher hung her head. “It has to. Once the bag is set, you can't change it.”

KD grinned. “Want to bet, Ms. Pitcher? Thanks to Grumpy, here, we not only sorted out your little scheme to end my art career, we met a Zebra (not Zecora, Ponyville has TWO zebras now) who was familiar with the spell. He showed us how to re set it. These treats are harmless. Really tasty, too.”

Mister Hazard suggested, “Now that is taken care of, let's get your things entered and hung. We were saving you a panel for your work. Thanks to Ms. Pitcher, we almost put your panel away. That is it, over there.”

KD smiled properly for a collection of important ponies and began setting her selections out along the bottom of the display panel. As an aside to us, she commented, “The Show's Committee will have the final call about what is hung and what is not.”

She looked about and zeroed in on Drawin Pitcher. “Drawin, if you will do it, I have a little actual paying work for you!”

The yellow mare looked up from where she was about to fill out some papers at the art show's main desk. “What can you possibly want from me, KD? After everypony finding out about my trick, I was going to withdraw from the show.”

KD agreed, “It was a pretty dirty trick, Drawin. Only the ponies here right now know about it, though. That does not change the fact that your work is first rate. Stay in the show. We can cover this up really easily. My pieces will need labels. As far as I know, you are the best calligrapher in Manehatten.

“Any pony claiming bad blood between us will have to explain how YOUR distinctive calligraphy is on my labels.”

“Why are you trying to help me, after what I did?”

KD sat and scratched at her jaw spines with her big left hind claws before answering, “Critical thinking, Drawin. There are two parts to you. One is more than a bit mean and underhoofed. The other makes works like the ones over there on the wall. That last part is too valuable to lose. The first part should be lost, if you can.

“I am trying to save that valuable second part.”

Sourly the green maned yellow mare said, “I see. Actually, thanks. I need sales from this show or money from somewhere else or I could lose my studio.”

Laying a big claw gently over the withers of Drawin, KD said, “I do understand. Before I got established, I was there more than once. Here is my list of titles. What will you charge me?”

“After this? I may need money but I don't need it that badly. I will get right on these.”

“Fair enough, Drawin. When you finish these up, go talk to Mister Hazard. He has a commission, no committees or the like. I had to let it go, due to time constraints. It might be just right for you.”

Watching in fascination, wondering where the embarrassment would come from, I felt a really sort of creepy sensation. I was not sure, but it seemed to involve the two strange ponies standing outside the door.

I saw Drawn Pitcher hard at work, her pen producing truly excellent calligraphic labels for KD's art.

I hated to interrupt, but there could be a life or more in the balance. I really did not care one way or the other about the yellow mare's life, but KD DID. That tipped the scales, as it were.

I strolled over to her. “May I interrupt you briefly, Ms. Pitcher?”

She looked up with a glare, paused and made an obvious effort to compose herself. “Um, you are the goat that KD brought here, aren't you?”

“Correct. My card.”

I proffered my business card. It was embossed stock with raised lettering in black and gold gilt. It said:

GRUMPETER “GRUMPY” GOAT

Licensed Practitioner of Non Equine Magic

All work by publicly registered contracts.

Refund of 110% if contract terms are not met.

A ROYALLY CHARTERED BUSINESS

“Impressive. How can a goat even have a Royally Chartered business?”

I sort of sucked in my nonexistent cheeks a little and retorted, “By being VERY good at what I do. I wanted to ask you about how you got that bag. I know that it was not made on this world. Either you summoned it, or you summoned a being that brought you the bag.

“Since you knew how to load it and trick KD into taking it, my money is on the second choice.”

She sort of hung her head and absently scraped at the floor with a hind hoof as she replied, “You are right. I did summon something. It was like a cloud of ugly dark smoke with eyes floating in it. I told it what I wanted to do. I mean make KD so that she would lose the contract, but not be actually hurt.

“It brought me the bag and told me how to set it.”

I nodded as parts started falling into place. “I see. Two more questions. Which book did you use and did your summoning go right on the first try?”

“Umm, I was afraid to try the Necronomipony. It has such a dangerous reputation. I used the Black Pullet as printed by Non Equine University Press.

“And no. I had to try twice for the summons to work. Is that important?”

Urgently, I asked, “Did you clean everything up after the failed try, or did you re use the same pentacles?”

“I re used them. Getting everything right was a LOT of work.”

I chuckled. “I do know about that! Non Equine magic is way harder than just waiving a wand around!

“Thing is, I believe that your first summoning may have worked. That is why I was checking on what you did.”

“What! Nothing happened. That is why I tried a second time.”

“I do understand, Drawin. I was just clearing something up. I will let you get back to your lettering. Beautiful work, by the way.”

Now sure of what happened, I sauntered over to the door. I gave the ponies waiting there my best, fang filled grin. “I see that you noticed that until the show opens tomorrow, that this is a private residence. Vamponies here in Equestria need to be invited into homes. The succubus should be able to enter without a problem. That means that she is tied to you, ma'am.”

I covered up my glamored in fangs as I bowed to them. “My name is Grumpeter Goat. Grumpy for short. As you have likely already noticed, I am dead. Not a zombie or anything like that, but totally deceased. Let us retire over to that bench under the shade tree in the garden while we talk. If that talk goes well, I will invite you in myself.”

The vampony nodded. “That makes sense, sort of. My name is Jinni and this is Sassy to her friends. Not sure what sort of power real names have here, but for now, I am not taking the chance. Getting out of the sun is a good idea.”

As we seated ourselves comfortably out in the garden, Sassy ventured, “What do you want to talk about? I don't think that we have done anything wrong.”

I raised a hoof in agreement. “Not yet, you haven't. You have already noticed that this world runs on slightly different rules than where you came from. I saw you try to enter through that open door. I am sure that nopony saw it. That is a rule that is different from your home. You can freely enter any public space, the door of a store, for instance. Private homes, not without an invitation.

“Daylight leaves you no stronger than an ordinary pony. Night will let you be about twenty times that strong. It will increase your ability to control your prey as well.

Jinni nodded slowly, “We have noticed some of that. Why are you trying to help us?”

I curled a lip and my eyes slitted. “I don't like most ponies very much, at all.

“Now, you need to understand some basic rules. This world is well aware of vamponies. They have tried and true methods of hunting down and destroying supernatural beings. So, the best way to manage, is to not draw attention to yourselves by leaving a trail of dead, dying and wounded ponies behind. Use your talents at prey control to take only small amounts at any one time.

“Let them think that they had a pleasant interlude with you, except for Sassy, there. They will feel like they had a fun INTERLEWD with her.”

They both had the courtesy to wince at my pun.

Jinni offered, “We came here because we sort of felt drawn to this place. We aren't sure why. Do you know that, Grumpy?”

“As a matter of fact, Jinni, I do. You were summoned here by a spell strong enough to warp you both into ponies. I don't know what you looked like before and don't care. Your natures have been preserved. There is a connection between summoner and summoned and that is what brought you here. The pony that summoned you is inside that place. She was trying to cut a rival out of a lucrative book illustration contract. She has failed.”

Sassy paused to think carefully. “What should we do and why would you let us into that house?”

I grinned again. Gave them a great show of phony fangs. “As I pointed out, the path of safety lies in moderation. If you agree to it, I can let you in to play fanpony to our guilty party. You know, autographs and the whole nine yards. Her name is Drawin Pitcher. She is yellow with a green mane and tail. Because she summoned you, SHE can't keep you out of HER home or any private space of hers.

“She can do one thing for you that will make the rest worthwhile, unless you REALLY LIKE being ponies with unusual diets. She has the spell book and knows the spell that will send you back where you came from.”

Both responded at once, “WE DON'T!” Jinni added with a smile that showed her fangs, “It IS fun for a nice visit. Say, a week or two. Shall we go in?”

“I shall precede you, ladies, and introduce you to the nice young mare who invited you to this world.” Reaching the door, I stepped in and bowed, “Jinni and Sassy, would you please come in? The artist that you are looking for is over at that desk.”

Jinni's eyes were glued to KD. “That is a dragon!”

“No kidding. That is KD, the artist who Drawin was trying to muscle out of the contract.”

That got them both to focus. They squealed fairly quietly as they descended on Drawin Pitcher! “It's really her! Oh, Ms. Pitcher! It is so great to actually meet you!”

At first, she tried futilely to fend off the duo. I noticed that her really good calligraphy was now labeling all of KD's works, hanging on both sides of her panel. I realized that the two were interfering with Drawin Pitcher's signing something for Mr. Hazard of Haphazard House Publishing.

We found out what it was very quickly. Jinni squealed in delight, “Your first book of art! They will be the luckiest foals in the kingdom that get to color your drawings! Can I get a copy with your autograph on it?”

Drawin Pitcher looked like she was ready to sink through the floor with her face aflame.

I cheerfully leaned up against KD and questioned, “What do you think of Drawin's cheering section. They will be fanponying her for the next few weeks!”

KD watched with amusement. She offered, “You really did not get much for all of your trouble, Grumpy. If you wanted to, you could make a killing off the painting of Wind by the T82. Not only do the critics think that it is a great piece of fantasy realism, Wind has agreed to stay for the show and pose by the painting so ponies can see her genuine metal arm and sword. The show has not opened yet and there have been three bids. The last one was for over a thousand gold bits.”

I agreed, “Monetarily, this contract was a bust. At least I did not have to give out a refund. I am going to keep the picture. It is a better treasure to me than gold.”

KD chuckled, “Are you feeling all right? I thought that I just heard you say that something was worth more than gold!

“Drawin will be both taken care of by that contract and embarrassed to death. It is an open ended one to draw foal's coloring books. The money is really pretty good but even with her good work doing well at shows, she will always be remembered as the mare that draws those foal's books.

“Our contract is fulfilled, Grumpy. You will get the autographed Daring Do book when it is ready for distribution but before it hits the stores.”

~THE END~

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to The Annals of Grumpy Goat

#HICCUPS!#MLP Fan Fiction #The Annals of Grumpy Goat #Written by De Writer

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oftachancer · 5 years ago

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Ch 2. pier-pressure (2/2)

Between the rain and the salt spray of the waves crashing against the shore, Aran was in heaven. Cassandra looked like she was one inch away from either combusting or rusting. It might have been the water logging her armor.

“Right, we’re here, let’s seas the day!” Aran beamed. Or it might have been the puns.

“Shell we see these mercenaries then?” Varric asked.

“Enough!” It was definitely the puns. She snapped, “I’ve had enough of both of you.”

Aran glanced sideways at Varric, “She wants me to be more sofishticated.”

The Seeker groaned, ready to let loose a lecture on the duties of his representation if the Inquisition again when the sounds of fighting ahead distracted her.

Solas tilted his head to the side, watching her rush forward into the fray. “It’s possible that you two have made her suicidal.”

“Nah, she likes us,” Varric locked a bolt into his bow, “otherwise she’d have made us go in first. Isn’t that right, Ar-“ he looked around, “Huh, where’d he go?”

Aran slipped through the battle, looking for weak spots. His dagger wove, illuminating the weaknesses in armor-the bands of a greave, the laces of a breastplate, the cords holding a quiver to a back. Everywhere he went, sheaths fell off, bowstrings snapped, armor fell off or open.

Figuring out the difference between the Chargers and the enemy was an easy matter, thankfully. The Chargers were the ones who were everywhere, whooping and swearing, like a swarm of drunk, happy wasps. And in the middle of them, the giant qunari swinging a massive hammer around him as though it were a light staff, knocking men back and shields asunder.

“Chargers!” The qunari shouted as the last enemy fell, “Stand down. Krem! How’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, Chief,” a young man in slapped together plate reported brusquely. “No dead.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Let the throat-cutters finish up, then break out the casks.”

Aran wiped down one of his knives with an oiled rag Varric had suggested, slipping it into the torso sheaths.

“So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. C’mon, have a seat, drinks are comin’.”

Aran glanced up, up, up. He’d expected the qunari to be talking to Cassandra, but she was away, sending a report back with one of Leliana’s agents. “Right, I mean, yes-” He sank onto a driftwood log, hoping that sitting would bring the giant of a man down to his level. Even sitting, the qunari was taller than him by a head. He’d never seen a qunari up close, but the descriptions didn’t do this man justice. He was seven feet, at least, all brute strength and thick corded muscles, and there were those qunari horns, yes, but they weren’t anything like what he’d imagined. Long and twisted back from a scarred, intelligent face. ��Iron Bull, I presume,” he said, putting on the ‘deep nobility voice’ he’d been practicing with Varric on the way down.

“Yeah, the horns usually give it away.” Aran took pains not to allow his gaze to slip back up to those horns. Maker, they were stunning. He itched to touch them, to see if they were rough or smooth. How deep the ridges really were. How much was shadow. Instead, he focused on the young man in plate mail from before, as he trudged over to them with a couple of massive wood tankards. “I assume you remember Cremesius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

“Good to see you again,” Krem acknowledged.

Aran nodded to him, “Same,” curious about the subtle shift of… pride? in the young man’s eyes.

“Throat-cutters are done, chief.”

“Already? Have them check again, I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.”

“None taken. At least a bastard knows who his mother was. One up on you qunari, right?” Krem smirked, turning back to check again.

“So,” Iron Bull said, drawing Aran’s attention back from the shore littered with bodies. “You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it. And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford it.”

“The Chargers seem like an excellent company,” Aran equivocated, wondering where the hell Cassandra was and why Iron Bull seemed to think that he was the one to haggle with. Maybe his green-ness was exactly the reason.

“They are, but you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a front line bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is, demons, dragons, the bigger the better.”

Aran stayed where he was as Iron Bull stood, muscles flexing with the movement. It had to be in purpose, didn’t it? The words, the muscles. It was worth tilting his head back at the odd angle to avoid standing and showing just what part of his body he wanted guarded at this particular moment.

“And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.” He squinted up at the qunari as the sun pierced the storm clouds behind him. “Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

“They’re a qunari organization, right? The equivalent of your guards and city watch?”

“I’d go closer to spies, but yeah. That’s them. Or, well, us. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. Sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

He wondered, was he was supposed to be impressed, or angry, or horrified? He was curious, instead. “You’re a qunari spy and you just… told me?”

“Whatever happened at the Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are.”

“From something called the Inquisition? I’d have been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

It was a good point. One that had Aran reconsidering the number of things he himself had failed to disclose up front to that self-same Inquisition. Maybe he needed to at least have a talk with Josephine. Explain how little she should be relying on whatever she’d heard about his family. She shouldn't be expecting people to come out of the woodwork for Bann Trevelyan’s youngest son, regardless of what kind of weird light glowed from his hand. “Alright. You’re in.”

“Excellent. Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired.”

“What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes.”

“Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.” He glanced back at Aran, “We’ll meet you back at Haven.”

Blood magic. The words got his mind churning. “Ah…” Aran cleared his throat. “Just… hold on.” “P

“Second thoughts already?”

“No, I just- Let your men drink. We’ve got a camp just up from the coast. You can stay with us, and I’ll touch base with our agents in the meantime.” Aran kept his eyes on the crashing waves against the shore. He’d wanted a few days on the coast, but now his thoughts were whirling. Damn it.

“You… just going to sit there?”

Aran rested his fingertips at the bridge of his nose. “I’m thinking,” he said.

“Not what you’re known for.”

Blue eyes snapped from the waves to the qunari, “And just what am I known for?” “

“The great and pious Herald of Andraste,” Iron Bull grinned. The effect was bracing. It had to be on purpose. “Closing rifts with that thing on your hand.”

Aran flexed his glowing palm reflexively. “And?”

“Not much else, to be honest.” There was that damned smile again. “And that’s saying something, coming from the Ben-Hassrath. We know things about everyone. Especially nobility. I can tell you things about your brothers and sisters that you probably don’t even know.”

“You think so?” Aran tilted his head to the side.

The Iron Bull hummed quietly. “But until the Conclave… no word about Aran Trevelyan. Then again, we’ve only had about a week to dig into you specifically.” “

“You’ll have to let me know what you find out.”

The qunari eyed him, that smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Will I?” he asked, thoughtfully. “Have to?”

“Herald!” Varric’s voice pulled him out of the dark pools of Bull’s gaze with its joviality. The thick-fingered hand that dropped to his shoulder was an anchor. “Did we make a deal?”

“That’s up to Josephine.” He tried to relax under the calloused palm, “And Leliana. Varric, the Iron Bull. The Iron Bull, Varric.”

“Remembered the ‘the’,” Iron Bull commented, sounding pleased. “Everyone always forgets.”

“Probably because it’s a mouth full.”

“You bet it is.”

Aran blinked. Grinned.

Varric glanced between them. “So… they’re staying…?”

“Yes.” Aran lifted a brow at Iron Bull who nodded.

“I’ll tell the boys,” he said before turning and heading towards his men.

“Big guy,” Varric commented.

“Everyone seems big to you.”

“Short jokes,” Varric sighed. “That’s beneath you.”

Aran smirked, gaze returning to the waves. “Do you think the Grand Enchanter might be able to help find a missing mage?”

“You know one?”

“My sister. We haven’t seen her since the Rebellion started. She was in the Circle, but when everything happened… no one knows where she went. Or if she’s okay.”

“No harm asking.” He whistled low, “So you’re going to go ask the mages for help. The Seeker will love that.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed her.”

“Now, now, you’re still alive. And unchained. It took me weeks of spinning stories to get out of her interrogation chair.”

Aran snorted. “Tough locks?”

“Tough armored guards with swords.”

“Ah.”

#dragon age #dai #my writing #aran trevelyan #varric #the iron bull #puns #sword coast #here in this moment #part 1 it’s the promise you made

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mlpdestinyverse · 6 years ago

Photo

“Tongue Twister”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Feat: Eventide Twister

Story and Description Under The Cut

Another new school year came newer faces.

It was probably the most difficult part of each start of the school year for Eventide. There was some comfort in seeing the familiar faces of classmates from previous years, and even classmates from back in kindergarten. Her best friend Heather Tart was a particularly welcome sight, especially when she sat next to her in Eve's favorite class of Ponish. Then there were the unfamiliar kids, the ones who had transferred in from some part of Equestria or another to Ponyville. Some were ponies, some were changelings, others were the more rowdy dragons and griffins. Twilight's schools were known for their diversity in species. And while some were simply there to pridefully attend one of Princess Twilight’s prestigious schools, it became clearer as the years passed that some kids were sent there for more...disciplinary reasons. To learn friendship and all of its elements to become more "exemplary members of society", to be more specific. Even now, as she idly sat at her desk, she could hear the loud, boastful voices of one of the newer colts and some griffins who sat behind her. Their smug grins and sassy comments in class already gave Eventide the impression that she should avoid them. It was only the third day of school, yet it was all still very intimidating. At the very least, Eve found herself slowly adapting to the new buzz of this class, willing herself to ease into it. But that small sense of comfort diminished as firm hoofsteps came through the door, and an unrecognizable mare walked in with a dignified stride. “Quiet down, children,” the middle-aged unicorn spoke with a slight accent, and her sharp light pink eyes flickered across the classroom. With her horn’s magic, she shut the door firmly behind her, the noise causing some of the chatter to cut off. The mare was rather well-dressed and held a sophisticated air that demanded respect. At the same time, if Eventide didn’t know any better, something about the stern, displeased look she was giving the class almost gave the filly the impression that this mare wanted to be there even less than the students themselves. “My name is Ms. Cinch.” she continued, adjusting the glasses that laid on the bridge of her muzzle. “And though this is only the third day of school, your dearest teacher just had to leave for a family emergency on the other side of Equestria. She will be out for the rest of the week. Until then, I will be your substitute”. Eventide didn’t miss the slight bitterness in her tone as she spoke that final word. A part of her struggled with the urge to place her saddlebag on her desk just so she could have a barrier to hide behind. She already had to worry about making a good impression with the pretty teacher she had met on the first day, and now with this new mare, that feeling hung over her more than ever. Turning her head, she managed to catch Heather’s attention from next to her. It was hard to tell if her friend saw the apprehension she was trying to convey with her eyes. Heather shrugged casually before returning her attention to their substitute. Ms Cinch released a huff, her magic picking up a notepad from the teacher’s desk. She skimmed it with disinterest. “Anyway, let’s get this over with shall we…Ashfall?” “Here!” As Ms. Cinch went through roll call, Eventide found herself staring tensely and nervously as she waited for her name. She didn’t know why roll call of all things had her stressed every single time. Maybe it was the fear of not hearing her name and forcing the teacher to call it again, or answering a beat too late. “Eventide Tw-” “Here!” Eventide realized her mistake as soon as she made it. She hoped that Ms. Cinch would simply ignore the interruption, but instead she watched anxiously as the unicorn peered up at her, unamused.. “I’d appreciate if I could maybe finish the name before you respond, Ms. Twister. Thank you.” Eventide felt heat pool into her cheeks. Managing to force herself to keep it together, she gave a firm nod. “S-sorry...” She heard a chuckle or two from behind her, making her wince, but that was to be expected. A part of her wished she could chat with Heather, if not to simply distract herself from the embarrassing moment. Peeking over, she noticed her friend holding her Ponish textbook open, seemingly rereading the page they had been assigned the previous day. Perhaps she was too engrossed to have noticed Eve’s mistake…? Eventide attempted to do the same, flipping through the pages to random stories in the textbook. She paused longer on the section with poems, only having a short moment to read with intrigue before she was brought back to the classroom. “Alright, children. Your teacher left me notes.” Ms. Cinch grumbled, walking around her desk to stand before the class. “Flip to page 12. We’re to continue reading the story you were assigned last night. You,” she pointed at a yak in one of the last rows of desks, who jumped at the attention. “You will start with the first paragraph. Get on with it.” There was an unspoken groan amongst the class, realizing that Ms. Cinch was going to randomly choose students to read. While Eventide tried to focus on listening to her classmates’ voices, she couldn’t help being distracted by the single worry shared by every student; abruptly being called on. It didn’t help that Ms. Cinch was slowly and quietly walking between the rows of desk, looking over the shoulders of those who read to follow along. So Eventide did what any reasonable student did. She kept her eyes downcast, avoiding eye contact in hopes that she wouldn’t be called. She both felt and heard Ms. Cinch stop beside her. “You’re next.” Eventide could feel her unease spike, her shoulders tensing under the expectant gaze of the mare she knew was standing inches away. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her textbook. It was just a paragraph. All she had to do was get it over with. ”Lila scowled. “AnddoyousupposeIlieinstead? Itisbuthonesty.” “Wordsholdmoreweightthanyouthink, LilaDonotbecareless.” Rhythminsisted-” “Stop!” Eventide nearly leapt at the interruption. Glancing at Ms. Cinch, she took in the mare’s narrowed pink eyes “Start over. Read slower, girl.” Knitting her brow, Eventide turned back to the passage. She supposed the pressure had made her read faster than usual, like it tended to…she tried again. “Lila. Scowled. “And do you...suppose...I lie ...instead-” An aggravated sigh brought Eventide out of it this time. Worriedly, Eventide met Cinch’s eyes once more, though this time the unicorn mare wore a sour expression. “Would you please just read it normally?” Eve’s ears drew back. To be interrupted a second time left Eventide feeling stressed, her hooves stiffly clenching her book. She couldn’t recall a time any of her teachers had ever done this. Regardless, Eventide tried once more, her voice tense. ”L-Lila scowled, “And doyou suppose Ilieinstead? It is buthonesty-” “Stop. Just stop.” If Eventide’s face hadn’t felt flushed before, it did now as Ms. Cinch took a step away and gave Eventide a disgruntled, impatient look. “Maybe you should consider practicing more at home, Ms. Twister. Right now it’s like you’re speaking in tongues,” she scoffed. “Or tongue twisters.” An abrupt wave of laughter startled Eventide. Snickers resounded from a number of her classmates, especially from behind where it seemed to be the loudest. Ducking her head, Eventide felt her whole being burn hot from relentless embarrassment. Suddenly she wished for nothing more than to vanish right then and there. As Ms. Cinch waited for the laughter to die down, walking onward to choose a new student to read the passage, Eventide anxiously glanced at Heather, wondering how she had reacted. Heather was leaning her head against her hoof, blocking Eve’s view of her face. As much as Eventide wanted to convince herself that her friend was respectfully ignoring the moment, a sharp pang of guilt hit her. She couldn’t imagine the secondhand embarrassment. ----------------------------------------- Like with any awkward moment in her life, Eventide moved on to her next class with the hope of leaving Ms. Cinch and her comments behind. She wasn’t looking forward to returning to Ponish the next day… but Ms. Cinch was only going to cover the class for another week. Right? Eventide walked into her History class, a little grateful that she had memorized her class schedule without any issues. Though she was ready to walk towards her desk, that was when she noticed two insistent voices. “Tongue Twister!” “Hey, Tongue Twister!” Eventide instinctively looked over, wondering who these fillies were trying to get the attention of. Realizing that two of her classmates she recognized from Ponish were waving at her from their desks, she blinked. She looked behind her quickly, wondering if maybe they were speaking to someone else. “Yeah you, Tongue Twister, come here!” ‘Tongue Twister…?’ With an uncertain frown, Eventide’s hooves clacked on the floor as she walked past her busier classmates to approach these fillies at the other side of the classroom. They smiled at her, waiting for her to reach them. “Um…” Eventide began self-consciously, unsure where to even start with her questions. That is, until one of the girls grinned and shoved an open book towards her. Confused, Eventide raised her hooves to take it. “What-?” “You should totally read for us~” Eventide paused, staring at the fillies faces. Though they smiled innocently at her, batting their lashes at her as she stood there, a part of Eventide clicked it together. Her eyes widened, hurt, yet these girls continued to watch her ‘patiently’. For a short moment she didn’t know how to respond. Feeling desperate to escape the situation, Eventide averted her gaze and closed the book, placing it on their desk before walking back to her own. A sharper sting hit her as soon as she heard a fit of giggles follow after. For the rest of that class, her eartips continued to burn hot. She couldn’t believe it, or didn’t want to believe it. To think anyone would go that far to mock her. And yet, as she would discover, it wouldn’t be the last time. She didn’t know when it started for her classmates. As she went through her day, traversing the halls and her classes, suddenly that name was being passed around. “Tongue Twister”. It was such a simple nickname, yet it held all of the weight of their teasing. Sometimes it was casually said as a ‘greeting’ in class, followed by a snicker. Other times Eventide could see the taunting gleam in her classmate’s eye before they cheerily drawled out the nickname. Then there was a dragon in the hallway, someone she had never even seen before, who smirked at her and cooed it out. “Heya Tonguey~” And it was then that Eventide realized how far and how fast this nickname was spreading. During lunchtime, Eventide opted to keep her gaze downcast out of worry of gaining any more attention than she already had. She ignored anyone who passed her in the cafeteria and those who sat at the the same table, hoping they would simply leave her be. But it couldn’t be that easy. “AndLilasaidbuhbahblahdahduhblahdo-” Eventide stiffened. She slightly shifted her head, recognizing the newer colt from her Ponish class and his griffin friends, joined by a few unrecognizable faces. He sat as the center of attention at the other end of the table, mockingly making strings of random noises and gibberish sounds as he ‘read’ from the book he held in one hoof. It was a ridiculous display, yet his friends around him laughed. “Oh hang on, I can’t do it as good as Tongue Twister!” he lifted his head to look past his friends, and Eve quickly and disheartenedly looked away. “Hey Tonguey, come over and show us how it’s really done!” Another round of laughter within his group and Eve felt the ball of emotion building in her chest threatening to lodge itself in her throat. Despite the heat in her face and eyes, she managed to choke it all down and ignore the group. She refused to cry in front of these jerks. ‘It’s him...he’s the one spreading this. And everyone’s just going along with it.’ As she blocked out more of the gibberish the colt proceeded to spew, Eventide’s ear caught a different sound. A scoff. She just had to raise her eyes slightly to notice two fillies sitting across from her. They shot annoyed looks at the bullies, and for a moment a flicker of hope lit up inside Eve. Maybe they would side with her, or just...anything. Anything to make her feel a little less alone in this. Though despite the sympathetic looks they momentarily gave her, they said nothing on the matter, continuing quiet conversation with one another. And Eventide knew. There was only one pony she could depend on, who she needed advice from now more than ever. --------------------------------------------------------------- “Do nothing?” Eventide stared at her friend in disbelief. She stood beside Heather, who was sitting at one of the school’s outdoor tables after hours. Eve waited for her response, hoping she had misunderstood her. And yet, as Heather placed her pencil down on top of her papers, the light purple earth pony gave Eventide a tired, annoyed look. “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a dumb name to get all worked up over?” Heather huffed. “With Sunset as your mom, I thought you’d be tougher....” Eventide gaped. All at once she felt the emotions she had been holding back the whole day burst. “But it’snotjustaname, Heather! They’re making fun of howItalk and it hurts!” Eve felt her hooves shake, tears finding their way into her eyes. The sight made Heather’s ears flatten, and she shifted uncomfortably in place. After a few beats of silence, the filly sighed, rubbing her temples. “Listen. Eve. I know how these things work. You’ll just embarrass yourself and make it so much worse by saying anything. Don’t even try to talk to any of the adults. They’ll just think you’re blowing it out of proportion. You’re better off letting something this small pass.” Before Eventide could think to say anything more, Heather glanced at the clock displayed on the outer wall of the building. She exhaled deeply and pushed herself up. “Look, I have to go...don’t know if you remember, but I’m still building myself up, so I have a lot to take care of.” As Heather gathered her papers, Eventide quietly gave her face a good look and realized just how stressed her friend appeared to be. Though her advice and now her leave left Eve feeling hopeless, a part of her still felt guilty for not noticing Heather's stress sooner. Throwing on her saddlebag, Heather continued. “After today, I’m going to be helping Ms. Cheerilee clean up her classroom after school, so don’t wait for me.” “Oh...okay.” Eventide half expected Heather to give a simple goodbye before leaving. Instead, the filly met her eyes one more time. Something strangely harsh was reflected in hers as she spoke. “I’m warning you Eve. Don’t do anything. Keep quiet and tough it out.” Something didn’t feel right. The words weren’t sitting right, as if acknowledging them or agreeing to them would be the same as lying to herself. Wasn’t it the same as pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t…? But in that moment, Eventide could only weakly nod, if only to assure her friend. Even as Heather relaxed a little more, mumbling a quick goodbye before trotting off, Eve realized that she was the one left with no assurance. --------------------------------------------------------------- A whole night and a morning of dread, and soon Eventide was back in her third period Ponish class. The two previous periods alone had proven that no one had forgotten. The teasing and nicknames had somehow yet to grow old. And she could tell that some of her classmates - just some - were possibly just trying to joke with her. Yet as much as she wanted to speak up, to convey the weight behind the name and the sting it brought, she was far too uncomfortable and far too fearful of the consequences of offending them if it all backfired. Heather’s words still faintly rung at the back of her head. The other night, while heeding her friend’s words, she had even kept silent with her own family. Well, more like with her father. Upon returning home, Valiant Heart had signed that her mother would be working late into the night on a project with Princess Twilight. And her brother Astral Dusk had been out, more than likely staying in the portal world afterschool to study with his best friend Terra Rosa. Unluckily for her, her father had noticed something was off and had questioned what was wrong. But even she at the time had wondered if she really was just making a big deal out of the situation. Thus, she had blown it off. She was Sunset Shimmer’s daughter. She could be tough, just like her. And that night, as she laid in her bed, that thought echoed louder than ever. The doubt she had felt while agreeing with her friend had refused to stop gnawing at her, and when she really thought about it...she realized Heather was at least right about one thing; she was a part of the Shimmer family. Maybe it was time for her to take things into her own hooves, just as her mother always did. It didn’t mean that she had to throw her best friend's advice completely aside. But it meant dealing with the problem where it started; Ms. Cinch herself. Ms. Cinch inadvertently started the nickname. And she was an adult. If anyone could take care of the issue directly, it would have to be her, right? She was responsible for it all. ‘I just need to talk to her after class...once everyone’s out of the room, I have to go straight to her about this. I-I know she’s terrifying...but I have to do this.’ Eventide bit her lip and habitually glanced over at the seat beside her. Heather paid her no mind, once more burying herself into her own book. In fact, she had been like that since the first day, hadn’t she? Giving simple greetings to her in class, minding her own business until class began. ‘Probably just the stress from her responsibilities, I guess…’ “Greetings, class.” Eventide tensed. As Ms. Cinch addressed the class indifferently, doing attendance that Eve made sure to respond to correctly, it was painfully clear that the mare wasn’t in any better of a mood than she was just the other day. For a moment, Eventide felt discouraged, doubt surfacing her mind. Should she hold off-? ‘No. If I chicken out today, I’ll never be able to get myself to do this.” She had rehearsed what she wanted to say, from the time she had drifted off to sleep that night to when she had prepared for school in the morning to her first and second classes. Even if she stuttered, even if she spoke too fast, communicating her concern was all that mattered. Eventide nervously squeezed the edges of her book as Ms. Cinch announced a page for the class to open to. As an employee of a School of Friendship, hired by Princess Twilight herself, surely even someone as harsh as Ms. Cinch would understand- “Ms. Twister. You seem to be the one who needs the most practice. You’ll read first.” A jarring jolt of alarm coursed through Eventide’s body. She stiffly lifted her head to look at the substitute. The denial within her hoped she hadn’t really just been called on, now of all times. Yet there Ms. Cinch was, standing at the front of the class with that same cold, expectant stare. Eventide felt her feathers ruffle uncomfortably as she felt a number of eyes hone in on her. Her heart only raced more when her ear caught the faint sounds of snickers and whispers. Her chest clenched at one particular one she made out behind her from a familiar, mocking male voice. “This’ll be good...” Something about that comment pushed her. Despite staring at the passage, a part of her telling her to obediently follow along, she realized the disadvantage she was at. She realized how unfair this was, and how she couldn’t play into it any longer. “I-I can’t.” “...excuse me?” A few confused noises sounded around her, and Eventide didn’t dare look up from her book right away. She had only acted so impulsively once in her life, when she had defended her friend Monochrome all the years ago. Finally lifting her blue eyes, she was met by Cinch’s dangerously narrowed orbs. “And why not?” Eventide could feel a quake in her legs. She quickly searched her mind for an excuse, just managing a hurried response. “I...cantellyouafterclass-” “Ms. Twister. You can either stand up and explain yourself to me and your peers now, or not at all. Which is it?” ‘’Not at all’...??’ A flash of panic struck the filly at that declaration. Cinch however simply leaned back against the teacher’s desk behind her. “Please. Enlighten me.” Eventide’s mind raced, and things around her seemed to slow. She couldn’t register if anyone was talking in the background, or who was looking at her. How did this happen…? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Every sense of privacy and safety was gone, just like that. Yet in that moment, within the stagnant air and tension of the classroom, Eventide knew she had a choice. So she chose. Rigidly, Eventide slowly moved out of her chair, placing each shaky hoof steadily onto the tiled floor beside her desk. She swallowed. “Ponies...h-have been making fun of h-howItalk, after what you said y-yesterday. About tongue twisters.” The locked eye contact she had somehow managed to maintain until then quickly broke as she focused on her hooves. The young pegasus wasn’t even sure how she wasn’t speeding through her sentences. All that mattered was keeping her voice firm. “They keep calling me names a-and- ithurts. So….” Try as she did to reach for more, Eventide ran out of words. It almost felt like it wasn’t enough, like she owed her teacher and class more somehow. But that was the honest truth, and how she truly felt. She felt the smallest bit of relief getting that out, though the thick silence around her snuffed it out. All that remained was Ms. Cinch’s response. “...is that all?” Eventide flinched at her flat tone. As much as she wanted to avoid meeting anyone’s eye, the filly’s gaze couldn’t help but flick upwards. There, she found it distressing just how unsympathetic the unicorn mare appeared. With that same indifferent voice, Ms. Cinch continued, “How about you point out the children who have been teasing you.” It wasn’t a question, but a simple order, one that had Eventide’s body go rigid. Unconsciously her eyes flicked over to her classmates. Somehow she managed to meet the eyes of one of the teasing fillies from History class, as well as one of the new colt’s griffin friends. They bother stared at her, wide-eyed and tense, as if waiting for her to out them. Then and there, she faltered. ‘Why…? Why is she making me do this here?’ “You can’t even say?” Cinch’s indifference was gone. Now all that lingered was impatience, an attitude that only had Eventide curl in on herself more. She opened her mouth, struggling to find something to fix this situation. Cinch beat her to it. “I swear to the high heavens that children these days are sensitive about everything.” she snorted, pushing off the desk she was leaning on. “I say grow a skin or else none of you will ever make it in life. Not everyone out there is going to sugarcoat the world for you.” Walking behind her desk, Ms. Cinch picked up a piece of chalk with her magic. Though instead of writing, she scrutinized it with a growl. “I should to be a magic professor, or a headmaster for Celestia’s sake, yet here I am working some substitute position. What an absolute travesty,” Ms. Cinch looked over her shoulder, eyeing Eventide with an irritated stare. “Now, if you’re just about done wasting class time, Ms. Twister, you may sit down.” All Eventide could do was silently slip back into her seat, her face and neck burning hot with humiliation. She couldn’t stop her ears from picking up the softest of whispers on the other side of the classroom. Nor could she help her own wandering gaze, only to find that not a single soul was willing to look at her. And if they did try, they quickly looked away. Only when she was back to staring at her desk, only half-listening to the lesson, did she feel eyes glancing at her more than ever. With the heavy air of the classroom, Eventide did whatever she could to appear smaller, as if it’d hide her from everyone’s judgement. In her desperation, she repeatedly tried to catch Heather’s eye, yearning for any kind of comfort. Heather, however, was back to resting her head on her hoof, leaving neither of them able to see the other. After what felt like a lifetime, the bell rung, and students seemed more sluggish and awkward as they stood and gathered their things. The smallest comfort came as Eventide noticed Ms. Cinch stride out of the classroom first. She waited, gathering her things into her saddlebag slowly. If everyone else left before her, then at least she wouldn’t have to face a walk of shame by passing everyone in her desperation to leave. Yet even then, avoiding attention however she could, she heard the murmurs. “That was crazy.” “But it was just a joke...” “Yeah, what a jerk.” She gripped her bag. She wished that last comment had only been one person. She wished she hadn’t heard sounds of agreement as a group left the room. By the time she was alone and it was her time to leave, Eventide felt like she was in a daze. It was almost like she wasn’t really walking in her own body, and like everything that had transpired hadn’t truly occurred despite knowing full well that it did. She had never caused trouble once. And even if she was nervous with new people, she had always tried to get along with everyone. Why did things end this way...? Without realizing it, Eventide kept her gaze downcast as she exited the classroom. Due to this, she hadn’t noticed anyone waiting for her. Not until a hoof connected with her shoulder, shoving her into the nearest wall. After the initial shock, Eve whimpered, her hoof flying up to her impacted aching arm. She glanced up, dumbfounded, only to find that new colt. Further behind him were his griffin friends. They all looked equally unamused. “Go whine to someone about that, snitch.” the colt sneered. With that he turned back to his friends with a huff and trotted away. His friends shot her venomous looks before following. Eventide shook fearfully as she watched them go, feeling the tears finally build up in her eyes. ‘Why...? Why?’ “Are you okay…?” Two nearby changelings gave her their attention, one of them taking a step closer to her with a concerned frown. “Y-yeah…” She knew it wasn’t the truth, but she felt far too absent-minded to say anything else. Suddenly everything was out of focus. She was trapped within her own head, everything replaying within her mind over, and over, and over again until the shame became too much to bear. The moment the tears fell, she rushed away. She didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing. She tried not to think about it all, scrubbing a hoof at her face every few seconds as not to draw attention, but her mind was a jumbled mess. It was like she was in some sort of panic mode. It felt like all eyes were on her, judging her. It was like every whisper, and every nearby laugh, was directed towards her. It was unbearable. And that was when she saw her, magenta bow and all. Eventide didn’t let herself think. She made a beeline for that pink and yellow striped mane, already finding some sort of relief in its familiarity. A hug, a moment to talk or simply hear her voice. Eventide would take any kind of comfort from her best friend right now. Realizing Heather was with a group was the only thing that made Eve hesitate a few steps away, wondering how to get her attention. Luckily one of the kids in the group noticed, the dragon tapping Heather’s shoulder before curiously pointing a claw at Eventide. “I think that filly wants to talk to you?” Heather turned around, puzzled. And just as quickly as they met eyes, any open expression Heather had immediately became stiff. Unreadable. “Uuuh, you know her?” A colt questioned, looking back and forth between them. Heather’s eyes flicked towards the colt, and then back at Eve. There was no warmth or concern in her eyes. Only hard, quiet calculation. It was like a switch. Turning back to her friends, her expression was replaced with one of her winning pleasant smiles. She let out a sweet, nervous laugh. “No, no! She just likes to follow me around.” ‘...what?’ With the state she was in, she wondered if she had misheard Heather. She had to have misheard her, or misunderstood her. Yet without sparing Eventide another glance, the lilac filly began to usher her friends away, her voice maintaining that pleasant tone. “Come on, let’s go guys. I don’t feel comfortable around here...” Her friends gathered closer at that, shooting Eventide wary looks. And like that, they were gone. Heather and her group disappeared around a corner. Yet Eventide didn’t budge from her spot, staring after them helplessly. ‘...Heather…?’

One more chapter to complete this event. Hope the red flags and foreshadowing are adding up. If you’ve seen Equestria Girls, or more specifically the Friendship Games movie, then you would recognize Principal Cinch AKA “Let’s threaten to ruin a teen’s future if she doesn’t do what I want” . Meet her Equestrian counterpart, who as you can see didn’t quite reach the level of her human counterpart. Career-wise, at least. With everything else, she's just as horrid. If you haven’t seen Friendship Games, allow me to relink the villain song “Unleash The Magic”. (Again, spoilers for EQG: Friendship Games!! This song is BY FAR one of my faves from EQG, due to the intensity and build up like w o w son).

Also, just a note to any teens and youngins in the audience if it’s not clear; Eventide's situation is a very, INCREDIBLY specific and unique one. And Heather’s advice is utter trash and given with her own reputation in mind.

Please go to a parent or teacher that you trust if you face repeated teasing and bullying, if you feel threatened, or if another adult has made you feel uncomfortable. It’s not only their responsibility to help you, but there are adults who very much care for your well-being and safety. It’s also okay to have a trusted friend help you talk to an adult, if it’s difficult for you!! You’re not alone buddy, and you don’t have to go it alone.

You’re tougher than you think. Hang in there.

#My Little Pony #mlp #mlp oc #mlp art #Destinyverse #Eventide Twister #story

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