#the button dillemma template torn between 'want to see fave char badass and competent' vs 'want to see fave char broken down needing care'

[gryphonablaze]

heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey who wants a one shot fic that I wrote for daughter of the lilies by the awesome meg syv, aka bludragongal who I’m not gonna actually tag here bc I’ve tagged her in half a billion posts already ,, 

the fic is titled ‘saving face’ because I love me some puns

‘Eugh, snow… I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate being cold…’ Lyra was sitting as close to the fire Thistle had started as she could without being burned. 

‘Hey, are snowstorms a thing? Like magic storms, but snow?’ Thistle asked. Everyone was quiet for a while. 

‘Don’t know. Probably, but hope not. Anyway, cave is goot place to trap heat. Glad ve found. Also glad Thistle can make voodless fire. But vhy only now bring up?’

‘Beceause most places we camp chalk won’t stay on the ground, so it wouldn’t work anyway. It’s complicated, too. I don’t remember half the runes. And you can’t write ‘em down without setting the paper on fire.’

‘Then… how did you get it to work?’ Brent asked.

‘Muscle memory. I couldn’t teach someone how to do it, but I could draw it out with my eyes closed if I needed to. When I was a kid, every fireplace in the house used these. The kitchen, too.’ 

‘You vere raised by mage? Is that vhy you not go to magic school?’ 

… Oops.

‘Er… yeah.’

‘Hrm. Explains vhy you so goot.’ 

‘Ooooooh, backstory!!!!’ Lyra teased. ‘You’ve said your dad didn’t like animals, and apparently he’s a mage. What else do we know? I need to start taking notes.’

‘Hey, cut it out.’ Brent ‘gently’ punched her in the shoulder. Didn’t seem like he meant it, though. 

There was a noise like the clattering of a rock. 

The fire went out. 

Something whistled in the air. Thistle leaped to her feet at the same time that everyone else dropped like flies. 

‘What the--’

Behind her were five cave elves.

Her teammates were unconscious, and there was some sort of antimagic that put out the fire… and rendered her defenseless. 

Claws cut through the air. The cave elves expressed confusion when she dodged the blow. Thistle went for Brent’s discarded sword. 

They clearly hadn’t been expecting for her to be able to see in the dark. 

They seemed to get over that surprise quickly. 

One of them said something, and the others backed away. Did he want a one-on-one fight? 

Apparently.

Despite not knowing how to use it, Thistle was at an advantage with a weapon. Even so, she was still on the defensive. She dodged more than a few attempts at disarming her. 

Did cave elves have some sort of honor-duel system? Was that a thing? Would they be left alone if she won this fight? Was it to the death? Not like she could ask, between the language barrier and being preoccupied with combat. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other four standing over Lyra, a fist raised, ready to concuss her.

Oh, so this was a distraction. 

She flipped like a switch.

‘rrrrRRRRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!’ Thistle took a powerful, haphazard swing at the dueling elf. His surprise earned him a shallow slash on his leg. 

You don’t get killed by being careful, she heard Gwen scold her. You get killed by being reckless. 

Yeah, well, she had no magic and was outnumbered five to one. No amount of careful could save someone from that. Might as well do something. 

With another roar she rushed at the other one, who immediately jumped back so as to avoid being skewered. 

A phwt! through the air and something stung her in the neck. She picked it out. It was a dart. Paralytic poison, by the feel of it. Would put someone out of commission just long enough to knock them unconscious. Good thing it wouldn’t affect her. 

Thistle chased another elf away from Brent and turned toward two that had just now stopped arguing over how to handle Orrig. She stepped forward. Something swept her feet out from under her. 

‘GAH!’ 

In an effort not to land on the blade, she tossed it aside with both hands. Which meant she could not catch her fall. Thistle hit the ground face-first. She tasted blood.

It was hard to get any air without inhaling blood. But Thistle was saved from the effort of trying. She choked as one of the cave elves pulled her up from the ground by her hood. 

And then dropped her. She landed hard on her knees, and fell into a coughing fit trying to catch her breath. She barely heard the cave elves panicking amongst themselves and running away. 

~~POV switch~~

The fire went out.

He couldn’t move. 

‘What the--’ 

Foreign chatter, the swing of steel, the sounds of struggle. Something was here, and Thistle was fighting it, alone, not using magic. If he had to guess, the talking sounded almost like the two cave elves that took a bite out of his arm a few months ago. 

He heard Thistle let out a scream of pure fury. Damn. He’d seen her angry before, but he was very glad that this wasn’t directed at him. 

He was starting to regain movement when he heard a yelp, followed immediately by a sickening crunch. Brent managed to remove the poison dart from his shoulder. Gods, this was like the cave elf job. Thistle was hurt, and he couldn’t do shit to help her. He could barely reach out an arm in futile desperation. 

A gasp. Distressed conversation. Something had started wailing like a child. He heard footsteps running away. Just like the cave elf job… 

As the assailants grew more distant, the fire relit itself and began to grow from a flame barely the size of a candle. Thistle noticed the light and pulled her hood up. There was just enough for Brent to see the outline of long, pointed ears and short fluffy hair. Ears like Lyra’s. So she was an elf? Huh.

No, right now was not the time for wondering what she was hiding. He could see blood on the ground and all down the front of her vest.

‘Are you guys alright?’ 

‘You’re asking us if we’re alright?’ Lyra’s words were slightly slurred. ‘You look like… I can’t even think of something witty. You’re covered in blood, and you’re asking if we’re alright?’ 

‘Yeah, well, poison is usually more dangerous than a nosebleed. If it isn’t wearing off by now, then it’s a different type than I thought, and that could make for some serious problems. But you’re talking, so that’s a good sign. Brent? Orrig?’

‘Vill be fine.’ 

‘Yeah, I’m okay.’ 

‘Good.’ Stiffly, Thistle got up and went over to her bag and dug out some gauze to hold against her face. ‘Now that the antimagic is gone,’ Her voice was nasally, ‘I’m gonna set some wards. I should’ve done that first thing.’  she started grumbling. ‘It even crossed my mind, but I chose not to, I almost got us all kidnapped or killed…’ 

‘Did you know there vere things in cave?’ Orrig asked sternly.

‘Well… no, but I still--’

‘Then is not your fault.’