#the little smile that blossoms on his face when the consequences of his actions flourish

[ratatatastic]

chirpy, chirpy~ like father like son i suppose

2024-25 Media Day | 9.18.24 (x)(x)

and absolutely delightful that colby kept up the inside joke yeah babey nothing like our beat and our cats opening up preseason hockey by being chirpy

[chaoswillfallrpg]

CECELIA ABBOTT is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and a HEALER in the ‘DANGEROUS’ DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES at ST MUNGOS HOSPITAL. She looks remarkably like HALEY LU RICHARDSON and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:  

tw: death, blood

Benevolent yet self-preserving, Cecelia Abbott is the uncertain quiver in a wavering voice, the sweetness of peaches and drunk silence laced in a room filled with champagne problems. Born to PHILIP ABBOTT - the second born to Cecelia’s grandparents ARTHUR and EDITH -, Philip was a stern wizard who held blinding loyalty to family tradition, while MARIA WARRINGTON held a warm heart and an adoring smile. Though their marriage was initially contracted, the pair grew to love each other dearly and settled together in Cambridge. As an only child, Cecelia was cherished wholeheartedly. Spoiled under an adoring glow the Abbott’s exuberated the essence of privilege. Basking in lavish expenses and the praise that came with being members of The Sacred-Twenty Eight; she grew in an incandescent glow. Under the scrutinising gaze of her grandmother, Celia formed like fragmented light held trapped in the crystal glasses she admired; beautiful, magnetic, but confined. Comforted in the company of best friend ABIGAIL FERNSBY and cousin AUGUSTUS ABBOTT; the three were inseparable in their youth. Finding contentment when all there were were regulations; they dreamed by grand fireplaces, shared iced buns adorned in cherries and longed for a moment where they could simply be children and not just mere pieces in a Pure-Blooded game of chess. Protected under her parents guiding hand, Celia grew naive to the world around her. Encapsulated in an idealistic bubble, Celia danced in delicate daisy chains blind to the inequality that ravaged the community she held so dear. 

Words like ‘mudblood’ and ‘half-breed’ hung in the air leaving her baffled and confused; especially when they had been held in her father’s voice; only she swore she never saw his lips move. As time drew on, her ears were left ringing with thoughts that were not her own. Mind screaming like a whistling kettle, Celia was left overwhelmed and drowning in the pain of others. Pure-Blooded children namely NEPHTHYS NOTT scorned her insane after Celia suggested Nephthys had a squib for a sister after overhearing conversation amongst adults. Only, they were in another room entirely. Outcast from the esteemed likes of Nott and Wilkes, Cecelia was held in contempt for even in the wizarding world hearing voices was deemed strange. Left with tear stained cheeks from the rejection of peers she so desperately longed to please, Celia weeped to her mother for the burden and sorrow she harbored was too heavy for any to bear. Soothing her daughter, Maria explained that for a descendant of her blood line it wasn’t unusual. Inheriting the rare gift of Legilimency, an art that only a mere few harbored from birth, her mother warned that for a witch as compassionate as Celia, she could grow to feel suffocated in the pain and hatred other’s beared, but to not let darkness drown out her light. While her youth was glowing golds and sunkissed, as she grew Celia would claim she only remembered happiness in tales of a hundred fleeting moments. In the gentle memory of her mother’s smile, the laughter echoing from her father’s chest and the joy that lifted them all like starlight. 

Memories faded, she holds hope in lost dancing figures from crumbled photographs like whispered thoughts that fill her dreams. Pushing aside horrors as if they were simply nightmares and not her painful reality. The death of Maria Abbott struck the Abbott house like a meteorite, casting everything in darkness. Blurred in her memory with the ominous storm that rattled their grandmother’s home as if the sky itself was weeping, a romantic vacation between her parents ended in her father’s hunched figure, drenched in rain with his wife limp in his arms. Celia could feel the agony in every fibre of her body, swearing it felt like her heart was going to concave. Nothing was ever the same after that fateful day. Without her mother, her father grew cold and bitter for the loss of the only woman he’d ever loved. Controlling and determined not to lose the last piece of his wife he had left, he clung to Cecelia tightly; vowing to keep her safe no matter the cost. From then, her life became regimented. Barely able to take a shuddered breath without her father knowing, Celia bore his overprotective nature as misplaced love. Her gift enabled her to see into the mind of a broken man, with everything the pair had suffered, Cecelia played her part as to not give her father more woes than he was able to bear. While her father was ragged with worry at the idea of letting her out of his sight, under the watchful eye of family friend POMONA SPROUT, Celia was boarding the Hogwarts Express thrilled at the notion of spreading her wings outside of her fathers bounds.

Finding herself in an empty carriage, one by one fellow first years joined her sharing loud opinions of houses they’d soon join. MARIANNE MACMILLAN, BOOKER BAGNOLD, COINNEACH MCKINNON, GIDEON and FABIAN PREWETT, were all vibrant in their own ways; though they’d all be sorted into different houses they became Celia’s long standing group of confidants alongside LAURENCE GREEN. Despite his last name, with his paranoid thoughts about his false identity; Celia learned long before she was told that he was in fact an Abbott. While she wanted to greet her cousin warmly and question why they’d never met, doing so would reveal her secret talent; something that Celia wanted to harbour to herself in an effort to find normalcy. Sorted into Hufflepuff, Celia flourished with her fellow badgers as she held many of the traits commonly shared amongst the yellow house. Patient, hard-working and loyal, Celia dreamed in soft yellow’s and shined like sunbeams in dainty floral dresses, hand in hand with fellow Hufflepuff, cousin and close confidant ALYS WARRINGTON. As time passed, Celia drew closer to Booker who too dreamed of a better world. While he researched werewolves and vampires under the cover of night, Celia spent her days in the greenhouses at Hogwarts brewing healing potions; desperate to make a difference in the world just like her mother had once dreamed. Despite their differences, Celia held a romantic heart. Adamant that they were forged together in the stars, there was no part of her that doubted Booker was her Romeo and she, his Juliet.

The lingering feeling she held closely to her chest since that first day on the train showed no sign of dimming and it wasn’t long after Hogwarts that the pair started dating; affection slowly blossoming into love. Knowing that despite the odds, they’d find a way because love always prevailed. After years of stolen glances, to a hopeful girl it felt as if they were finally and simply meant to be. Though nothing was ever that easy. Booker spoke of liberation, of a world where creatures could be equal and free just as they were; but to her it was more complex. Torn in the lingering trauma of her mother’s death at the hands of a vampire, while Celia wanted to live in light and not let past turmoil make her fearful of the night; with her relatives' views weighing her under, she was left juggling family obligation, her relationship and own beliefs. Efforts to persuade her father to see reason against his purist ways fell on deaf ears. Asking if his heart darkened by hate was what her mother would have hoped for them, only left him bitterly agitated and hopeless. When Booker approached her with his petition, Celia knew with a sunken heart she couldn’t bring a quill to parchment with her name. Arguments arose, while Celia needed time to consider her high position within the Abbott name as the only child not smeared in the scandal of Albert Abbott, Booker needed action and pleaded with her to choose her place instead of lingering in the grey. Left with sour words, little did she know she’d never hold him dear again after his murder at Halloween 1982.

Hands clutching honeycomb hair to drown out others woes, Celia is left trying to find a path through cloaked darkness, desperately searching for peace in a world that doesn’t have Booker Bagnold in it. Drifting like a mere ghost of herself, while Laurence and Marianne offer comfort, kind words and warm affection to ease her, it did little in the face of grief over last words and broken promises. While ELEZAR SMITH offered more welcomed distractions, lingering lips gave peace to her war raged heartbreak despite the pain she knew it would cause FLORENCE JONES, Celia was too numb to comprehend the consequences. Using her gift for good despite herself, Celia is trying her best to make Booker and her mother proud with her actions as a Healer. Bringing light to those with her compassion and empathy, she offers a gentle hand and freshly conjured daisies with a soft swirl of her wand; hoping to take their heart ache for her own so they didn’t have to bear loss like she had. The first healer on the scene of BENJY FENWICK’S attack, Celia has become the wizard’s primary caregiver. Caring for him in bittersweet sorrow, with lacerations to the neck, Celia confirmed the incident as a vampire attack to Auror ALASTOR MOODY. While she longed to believe that creatures weren’t the monsters they were deemed as in fairytales like Booker claimed, with every passing attack Celia can’t help heed her father’s words of caution. As attacks continue to ravage the community and with Booker’s murderer SILAS CRUMP slipping through the grasp of the ministry, she fears her father was right all along. If even Benjy and Booker weren’t safe from their grasp, then who was?

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female

Sexuality  → Up To Player

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Hufflepuff)

Family → Philip Abbott (father), Maria Abbott (mother), Arthur Abbott (grandfather), Edith Abbott (grandmother), Albert Abbott (uncle), Augustus Abbott (cousin), Laurence Abbott (cousin/close friend), Gilfred Abbott (cousin), Alys Warrington (cousin/close friend), Trystan Warrington (cousin)

Connections  → Marianne MacMillan (best friend/room mate), Gideon Prewett (close friend), Fabian Prewett (close friend), Booker Bagnold (deceased best friend/ex-boyfriend/potential love interest), Abigail Fernsby (childhood best friend), Eve Diggory (close friend/colleague), Elezar Smith (friend/romantic liaison), Florence Jones (friend), Keira Grey (colleague), Olivia Pomfrey (colleague), Poppy Pomfrey (colleague), Nephthys Nott (adversary), Persephone Wilkes (adversary), Benjy Fenwick (patient) 

Future Information → N/A  

CECELIA ABBOTT IS A LEVEL 5 WITCH.

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag Valentines fic: Affection

This is for the SessKag Valentine Big Bang 2020!

Prompt: Kisses

Rated K+, fluffy as heck, 4,000 words and available to read on Ao3 and Dokuga.

Partner: @jorocolove​ (I’ll link your art here as soon as you post it bud) Edit, here it is!: https://jorocolove.tumblr.com/post/190867996816/this-is-for-the-sesskag-valentines-big-bang

@sesskag​

Affection

For every action, there is a reaction. Or so he’d read in the miko’s textbook once while leaning surreptitiously over her shoulder.

The first action may have been him slaying a wild boar youkai that had been rampaging around the village. Or perhaps it had simply been his random inclination to visit Edo that morning.

But by far the action with the most devasting reaction and consequences came with an innocent peck on the cheek from a happy miko.

When Kagome’s lips had grazed his striped cheek in a quick kiss, one of several things had happened that Sesshoumaru was not proud of; the traitorous heart within his chest picking up speed, thundering loudly in his ears. His body shamefully stilling, indicative of its shock. The unfurling of bloodstained claws at his side, twitching with want.

And the inane, consuming thought that ‘this was it.’ This was what he’d been waiting for. A blessing, a sign that the months of one-sided, disgusting pining and various youkai signals of wishing to mate with the powerful, frustrating woman had paid off. Sesshoumaru’s pupils had dilated, limbs breaking free of their frozen surprise for him to whirl in her direction, fangs aching with the desire to claim-

Only to find that Kagome had flounced off to go help a villager fix his fence.

Well…that behaviour seemed unusual. But he’d surmised that she had a village to look after and responsibilities were not to be shirked. Yes, Kagome had merely given a sign that she’d address her acknowledgement of him later.

But that did not come to pass.

While lingering on in the village, watching its residents fix their chicken coops or clear away the debris from the boar’s rampage, the skies had darkened. Rin checked up on him every now and then, Sesshoumaru remaining in his reclined position against a tree. He could tell she was curious about his continued presence but the great lord Sesshoumaru did not explain himself.

Straightening, his ears pricked as Kagome jogged out of a hut, adjusting the strap of her backpack over one shoulder. Inuyasha finished up helping a farmer, and as easy as breathing the miko had done it again before Sesshoumaru’s very eyes; pecking Inuyasha on the cheek and saying goodbye, rushing off in the direction of the well.

Sesshoumaru stared, jaw ticking.

His reaction could be likened to jealousy, frustration and mild hurt but the proud lord would claim otherwise.

This did not stop him from glaring daggers at the whelp. He’d seen them break-up and get over their month long relationship, what on earth was the miko doing, handing out affection to one so undeserving? Were they an item again?

Inuyasha didn’t even notice him or get flustered, he just scratched his stomach and wandered into the older miko’s hut, loudly demanding food after a hard day’s work.

Sesshoumaru’s confusion did not end there, unfortunately. He watched when she hugged the Monk tight or took up a brush and glided it through the Demon’s Slayer’s hair. She’d pat villagers on the shoulder for a job well done, give gifts that were useful, chase and catch the kit, nuzzling her face against his, even hold hands with Rin as they walked back from herb collecting.

Sesshoumaru simply could not understand it. Kagome lavished those around her with care and affection. Sometimes she’d even change things up and hug a villager instead, marring her exquisite scent with their unpleasant sweat laced ones. She’d been extremely patient when the wolf Prince had visited, patting his fingers with a free hand while he held one of her soft palms captive.

The Daiyoukai sneered.

Such a loose display of touch would mean something else to youkai society, but…he’d clicked now. Kagome was not part of a youkai society, but a human one. And when observing other humans he noticed they did not touch each other as thoughtlessly as the miko did.

This left a conundrum. If the miko gave affection so freely it became difficult to distinguish between romantic interest or friendship on her part. She acted so ‘nice’ it felt next to impossible to know if someone among the rabble was special, a possible love.

He’d never get anywhere displaying for her in youkai ways to show his affection and interest. It hadn’t worked for months. No, another strategy was in order. He’d just have to follow her example.

—

Sunlight shone bright and radiant that day, bathing everything in a warm, wonderful glow. The humble village and rolling hills beyond Inuyasha’s Forest looked positively picturesque. Kagome sucked in a long breath of clear airs and scents from the Sengoku Jidai, exhaling with a pleased sigh. Maybe it was nostalgia talking but three years away from the place had really made her appreciate the little things about the era.

“Hey, Kagome!”

She smiled and waved, hurrying over to the children sitting near the border of the trees. “Hi, what are you two up to?”

Rin grinned, pointing to the tree stump which acted their own makeshift table. A scroll lay atop the surface. “Shippo is going to make some flowers using magic!”

Setting her bag down, Kagome rose a brow. “Really? That’s pretty cool. Care to show me as well, oh great fox youkai?” She returned the little girl’s infectious smile, taking a seat beside her.

Shippos chest puffed up with pride, hopping atop the scroll. “Of course. Witness my power! Fox petals!” He yelled, his tiny form jumping into the air with a flourish of his hand.

Some fox fire puffed out of his palm instead, soon whimpering into nothingness.

Kagome and Rin exchanged a glance before clapping uncertainly. “That’s uh…”

“No, that’s not it!” Shippo huffed, cheeks puffing up. Gritting his teeth and jumping again, he cried; “Fox petals!”

The same thing happened.

And again.

And again.

Finally, Kagome stood and lifted her hand placatingly. “Shippo, it’s okay. You just need practice to-”

“But I had it the other day!” He snapped, tail lowering while small shoulders fell, noting Kagome’s concern. “Sorry. Maybe if I saw a demonstration it would be easier to picture it but no one around here can teach me youki techniques.”

Kagome’s brows drew together, heart squeezing. She stepped closer and smoothed a hand through soft red locks, words of consolation on her tongue.

A ripple of heat danced along the back of her neck, that of stifling, rich youki. Kagome tensed, only to inhale and feel Sesshoumaru’s aura fill her lungs. Sharp energy crackled above their heads. Somewhere behind them, Rin gasped. “Pretty!”

Kagome and Shippo looked up, gaping at the silent explosion of red youki that fell like radiant confetti. The flecks of energy fell slowly, curling in the air as though replicating the fall of cherry blossoms brushed by a phantom wind, raining down around them.

Lifting a hand, Kagome twitched as a 'petal’ landed on her palm, giving the brief sensation of candle wax dripping on skin, fizzling away in the wake of her answering reiki.

“Lord Sesshoumaru! That was so beautiful!” Rin was cooing.

Turning, Kagome witnessed the girl race over to Sesshoumaru’s approaching figure. She collided against his leg, hugging his side.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning as deadly fingers unfurled to rest on her head.

Shippo scratched his cheek, hopping off the tree stump and following Rin a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, “um…”

The Daiyoukai lifted snow kissed lashes to pin the full force of his golden stare upon the boy. Shippo wilted, taking a breath. “Y-you… could you um…could you teach me that technique, Lord Sesshoumaru?” He bowed his head, getting on hands and knees to touch his forehead to the floor in a bit of an over-exaggeration.

“Indeed,” the answer came easily, voice unruffled.

Straightening, Shippo blinked and slowly grinned, his joy palpable. This time Kagome couldn’t stop herself from outright grinning. The children gave happy shouts while running to each other and clasping hands. Spinning in a circle they chattered excitedly.

Kagome didn’t even notice Sesshoumaru until his voice caught her by surprise, sounding closer than anticipated. “Does this please you, miko?”

Raising her head, she gave a smile, finding that Sesshoumaru bathed in sunlight was truly a sight to behold. “Yes of course it does, thank you so much! Shippo’s been wanting a teacher for a little while now. There’s only so much to do around the village and I think he was getting bored.”

She was babbling, Kagome knew she had a penchant for it. Hopefully he didn’t mind. Blue eyes naturally sought out the children again and she watched them play with a warm, bubbly feeling.

“Hn, this one will start training him right away.”

She opened her mouth to answer- when the slight pressure of lips against her cheek halted her words and promptly threw them careening off a cliff. Kagome stiffened, body becoming a livewire. Her mouth became dry, heart stuttering in her chest.

The thin lips pressing against her cheek withdrew and Sesshoumaru straightened, smoothly pivoting on his heel and walking away. “Come, kit,” he threw over his shoulder.

Rin and Shippo were gawking at Kagome, having noticed. Shaking himself the kit hurried after Sesshoumaru’s retreating form, leaving the two stunned humans within the clearing.

—

The next incident, as Kagome would come to reflect on it, happened a few days later.

She’d been quite happily reaching over the side of the village well, (a usable one, not the Bone Eater’s monstrosity of old bones and dead earth) grasping the handle of the bucket while keeping hold of the rope.

She jumped when a striped wrist appeared in her eye line, helping her unhook the filled bucket and lift it away. Kagome set it down on the ground, straightening to see Sesshoumaru standing before her.

“H-hello Sesshoumaru,” she hated the squeak in her voice. Okay so perhaps that peck on the cheek had been an uncharacteristic move on his part but that was no reason to get weird with him. She remembered the burst of adrenaline that had made her rise on tiptoe and kiss his cheek a week or so ago. Maybe he thought that was how she said goodbye?

“Miko,” he inclined his head a touch stiffly before thrusting a hand out towards her. Kagome blinked and looked down at the parcel balanced perfectly in his palm.

She took it, tilting her head. “Do you want me to pass this on to Rin-”

“It is for you.”

“O-oh.”

She stared. He stared back. Belatedly, Kagome realised she was not dreaming and a demon lord was currently watching her a little impatiently. Kagome gave a nervous giggle and started unwrapping the white package, blinking when she uncovered sandals inside.

Gaping, she burst into a wide smile. “The strap of my sandal broke yesterday! This is- I mean thank you so much. It’s very thoughtful! I’m surprised you noticed.”

Sesshoumaru hummed, falling silent when she lifted her leg to check the size, only to notice they were a little too small against her foot.

“They are unusable,” he grit out stiffly.

“Ah, don’t worry!” Kagome dropped her leg, trying to assure him. Whatever had inspired his acts of kindness recently, she didn’t want to discourage him. “I can still use them.”

“No. They must be worthy of you,” turning on his heel, Sesshoumaru stalked away with heavy energy crackling around him, greatly displeased.

Once again he left the miko stunned, words caught in the usually talkative girl’s throat. What the heck is going on with him lately?

—

Letting out a happy sigh, Kagome stretched her arms above her towelled head, sitting on a log outside Kaede’s hut. She’d just experienced a wonderful dip in the nearby hot springs, managing to work out the stiff joints in her body. Honestly, she’d felt a little directionless and meandering after returning to the past without a villain to fight or shards to find, so helping the village improve with a little manual labour had been a good way to keep her mind off it. Maybe procrastinating wasn’t ideal in the long run but it helped. A secret desire to leave the village kept cropping up, but that would mean leaving her friends behind. Kagome wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

Letting out another sigh, one not so happy, she removed the towel from her hair. Damp locks hung down in disarray while Kagome made to pick up her brush-

Which wasn’t where she’d left it.

A soft pressure met the back of her head. Her muscles tensed all over again, youki curling around her like a summer breeze. Kagome felt the glide of her brush touch her neck. She hardly dared to turn around but glanced over her shoulder, mouth falling open. “Se-sesshoumaru?!”

The Demon Lord knelt behind her, grasping her head and turning it to face forward. “Hold still.”

“But you’re- why are you brushing my hair?!”

He continued, the bristles dragging through the damp ebony locks. “The Slayer grooms you often. Is there something wrong with this Sesshoumaru doing it?”

Kagome pressed a hand to her curiously red, burning cheek. “Not…wrong, per se but…you don’t usually.”

“Perhaps this one is seeking to rectify that.”

She swallowed and thought for a moment, about to ask a question when the brush snagged on her hair. “Ow.”

Sesshoumaru glided his claws through dark strands, untangling them. He continued in his careful ministrations, lulling the miko. Once the initial weirdness wore off it began to feel a little nice. Pleasant even.

The brush being set down broke Kagome out of her haze, along with silks rustling. She shifted to see Sesshoumaru walking away.

Standing, words collected on her tongue. “Sesshoumaru,” she called.

He halted, taking her by surprise. Kagome bit her lip and wrestled with what to say. Out of the thousands of questions that bubbled to the surface, nothing slipped out but a measly: “Won’t you tell me why…?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you getting close to me and doing things for me? Why…for me?

Silver hair picked up from a stray breeze, flowing around him as white and red patterned sleeves ruffled, teased by the wind. Despite the almost ethereal presence he possessed, the demon merely looked at her with a raised brow. An ordinary expression for a cripplingly ordinary answer: “Why not?”

Blue eyes widened and Kagome’s breath hitched. The cool breeze attacked her more fiercely in the wake of those quiet words and the miko hugged her arms, watching the pale demon leave.

—

Dead on her feet, Kagome panted, staring down at the fallen bear youkai. A few arrows were embedded in its hide, however, the hit that had taken it out had been a blast of reiki directly from her palm into its chest. She’d been sloppy, the bear shouldn’t have been able to get so close. At least her powers hadn’t faltered.

“Great job, Kagome.”

“So cool!”

“Yes well done, Lady Kagome.”

“Feh!”

Giggling weakly she glanced at her friends that lingered in the clearing, having followed the fight that had broken out on the border of the village into Inuyasha’s Forest. “Thanks, guys. It really wasn’t a big deal though, I can take these types of demons down no problem.”

Sango and Miroku smiled with pride, ready to head back to the village and relinquish Kaede of her sudden babysitting duties. Inuyasha huffed, Shippo grinning on his shoulder as they too were about to return and continue on like any other day, before a hand met her shoulder from behind.

Starting, Kagome turned- only to feel herself be pulled against a warm chest, arms encircling her.

“ACH-” Inuyasha made a strangled noise, ripping Tetsusaiga out of its sheath. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN’!? LET GO OF HER, YA BASTARD!”

Kagome’s cheeks bloomed red, her cheek pressed against sublime silks. Subtly inhaling the scent of magnolia and a masculine, heady sort of spice, Kagome pushed past her shock and mild mortification to focus on the heart beating beneath her ear.

It drummed strong and quick.

Is he nervous? That didn’t sound right for the Killing Perfection. Nonetheless…

Her hands came up to touch his back, grateful for his lack of armour. “I-it’s okay, Inuyasha!” She muffled out, “Sesshoumaru is just giving me a quick f-friend hug. You know, as a job well done!”

“No friend hug lasts that long!” He bellowed somewhere behind her.

“Yes it is not a friend hug,” a silky voice uttered directly into Kagome’s ear, eliciting a shiver.

Mercifully or unmercifully, Sesshoumaru released her. Straightening, he met Kagome’s perplexed gaze as though waiting for something.

“W-well…” she squeaked, clearing her throat. “Even if you don’t consider me a friend, I consider you mine. So uh- thanks!” She chirped. “You give good hugs?”

His brows pulled down, eyes narrowing with what seemed to be frustration. Turning on his heel the Daiyoukai walked away once more.

Inuyasha cursed up a storm, following after his brother with loud demands to fight. Miroku and Sango lingered, muttering amongst themselves while Shippo dropped down from Inuyasha’s shoulder to climb up Kagome’s.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” The couple approached her with concern as if she’d just been through a traumatising ordeal.

Waving a dismissive hand, Kagome forced a smile. She felt like she’d just hurt his feelings though wasn’t sure why. “I’m fine, really. Sesshoumaru is just branching out with how he shows affection. It’s not that weird, right? I bet he does it to you…”

Sango and Miroku were firmly shaking their heads. Kagome looked at Shippo weakly, who also shook his head. “I haven’t seen him even give Rin a hug. Just head pats.”

“I thought he was going to impale his hand through your back,” Sango breathed a sigh of relief. “What other things has he done, Kagome?”

“There’s the gift giving-”

“He gives you gifts?”

Kagome bit her lip, glancing away. “Yeah. He’s brought me sandals- they were the wrong size so he brought me another pair and left them outside the hut. But also kimonos, yukatas, scrolls on different types of herbs and remedies, hair ornaments, a comb I’m pretty sure was made from demon bone, uh…oh and a bowl.”

They stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“A…bowl?” Miroku asked weakly.

“Mhm, I shattered one the other day. Then a few hours later he just set one down in front of me and walked away again. I wanted to run after him but the tea was boiling. He’s kissed me on the cheek and also on the forehead just the other day when I was collecting herbs.”

Shippo sighed and patted her ear so that she’d turn her head to look at him- before grabbing both of her cheeks. “Kagome, are you blind?” He huffed, squishing them. “I thought you’d get it once he stopped performing youkai mating rites and started doing human things. He wants to take you as his mate. Real bad.”

Kagome stared, taking hold of the scruff of his happi coat to tug him away. “You’re going to have to run that by me again,” blue eyes narrowed. “And maybe explain why you didn’t share this helpful information with me sooner.”

—

Beyond frustrated, Sesshoumaru approached the crest of the hill that overlooked Kagome’s village. Apparently the humans called it Kaede’s village, but he did not see it as such. Yes…the woman who so damaged his pride with every rejection deserved a little respect. She had guts, he’d give her that.

Still, he could not continue in the same vein. His teeth ached, gut churning with the heavy waters of longing. No matter how much he covered her in his scent, she washed it off. No matter what he did it elicited no change.

It had been foolish to try in the first place. They were ill matched. Perhaps he should content himself with being Kagome’s 'friend’ and nothing more.

“You could have just said something out loud, you know.”

Sesshoumaru stilled, wondering where she’d come from. He scented the air and turned to see Kagome stepping out of the bushes, approaching from downwind.

Slit pupils dilated. Clever miko.

No. He could never see this woman as a friend. His instincts clamoured and demanded to see her as something else entirely. He realised then that the howling want for her might never go away, even if he could persuade it to sleep within his chest.

“Always doing stuff with actions but never words, huh?” Kagome stopped before him, hands coming to rest on her hips, causing his heart to thud rapidly. Claws twitched at his sides. She let out a sigh, shoulders falling. “I should have realised what you were doing. There’s actually this thing called Love Language,” she murmured. “There’s Acts of Service, which would be teaching Shippo. It means a lot to me…and I guess you know that.”

Sesshoumaru stared, unblinking, not moving an inch.

“There’s also Receiving Gifts and Physical Touch, which are self-explanatory,” she laughed a little nervously, cheeks turning red and making the strange, cosy thing in his chest flip flop.

“But…” Kagome raised her head. “There’s also Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.”

The Demon Lord took a step closer, until they were nearly touching. Slowly, the mask he usually presented to the world melted away a touch, brightening the gold of his eyes and curving his lips. “And what do those entail?” The tone of his voice dipped into a quiet, honeyed one.

Kagome’s hand curled in his trailing sleeve and if he focused, Sesshoumaru could hear her heart thundering. “For one thing you need to stop walking away all the time, mister,” she teased. “It means one on one time and uninterrupted conversation.”

“One on one time,” he repeated with a silky edge to his voice.

Fixing some dark hair behind her ear, Kagome nodded, making the locks fall loose again. “I didn’t realise what you were doing, because for me…I need Words of Affirmation the most.”

Inclining his head, Sesshoumaru’s fingers flexed wide, curling some dark strands around his fingers to return them behind her ear.

Kagome gently touched his wrist, freezing him in place. “Thing is, you’re not like that. You don’t talk about what you’re feeling and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. In that way we might be incompatible-” his gut clenched and Sesshoumaru made to pull his hand back but Kagome wrapped her fingers around his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. His lips parted, nerve endings flaring alive as she looked at him firmly. “I need someone who can clearly say that they want me. Because…” the passion in her gaze died. “I promised myself I’d never assume anything again. No dancing around the subject. No 'does he like me?’ or 'am I the only one feeling this?’ I’ve done that before and I didn’t like it,” she mumbled, eyes downcast.

A quiet but clear admission escaped into the space between them. “I want you.”

Kagome blinked, looking at him. Slowly, her tempting mouth tugged up at the corners, until the miko smiled so wide and brightly Sesshoumaru wondered why he hadn’t chosen this method in the first place.

Her hand gentled on his wrist, shaking a little as she released him and instead touched his chest. “Huh,” she murmured. “You said that easier than I thought you might.”

He nodded in agreement. “It was easier to say than anticipated.”

Giggling, Kagome leaned into his warmth, while the demon’s hands came up to rest on her hips. She didn’t pull away, making him inwardly purr, leaning so that his breath danced over her lips. “I have something for you,” she murmured. “In my backpack. I kind of forgot it because I was in such a hurry to catch you but it’s a book on Newton’s Laws of Motion. I saw you sneaking peeks at my old textbooks, nerd.”

Sesshoumaru quietly huffed, molten gaze warming slightly.

She grew thoughtful. “Shippo told me you were displaying demon mating rites. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on them…or you apparently replicating how I acted.”

“Hn.”

Kagome blushed. “In my defence, you were replicating how I act with my friends.”

Sesshoumaru slow blinked, palms creating a gentle pressure on her hips to press her closer against him. “And in this one’s defence, I do not know how you act with someone romantically.”

“It’s pretty easy, I’ll show you,” standing on tiptoe, she used his shoulder as leverage, pressing soft lips to his. Sesshoumaru inhaled sharply, marvelling at the feel of her smiling against his mouth. Deepening the kiss, the demon lord buried long fingers in her exquisitely soft hair. A pleased, rumbling growl escaped his chest, sounding almost like a purr.

For Kagome’s action, he’d respond in kind with plenty of deserving reactions.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Five: Scissors ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

For most of her life, Hinata had no sway over her appearance. Hiashi kept her attire neat, always sporting their clan crest as not to let her forget who her actions represented. And even her hair was never allowed to grow, restricted to a traditional hime cut through all of her schooling, and even upon becoming a genin.

For the most part, Hinata didn’t really mind. Her clothes suited her well enough, especially with how baggy they were. Her lack of confidence coupled with her early blooming meant she was more than fine with being hidden under fabric. And in all honesty, her short hair was useful, keeping it out of her face when training or doing missions.

But after graduating from the Academy...things began to change for Hinata. Her teammates, a far cry from her own timid nature, helped bring out a subtle shift in her mindset. Watching her inspiration, Uzumaki Naruto, continue to defy odds made her believe that maybe there was still hope for her. 

The greatest change, however...came from her first attempt at the chūnin exams.

With mounting tensions behind the scenes, it was already slated to be an interesting year. Konoha’s junchūriki, as well as Suna’s, were going to be participating. Otogakure, a new village, was submitting entrants. And both Hinata and her cousin Neji would be thrown in together for the exams. At first, she’d simply hoped that they would skate past one another, never truly interacting.

But due to the high rate of completion in the Forest of Death, the proctors declared a preliminary round before arranging for the final task. And that was when random chance intersected with fate.

Hinata was to face Neji.

On one side, a girl attempting to change and defy the expectations and opinions of her clan. On the other, a boy born into servitude and mistreatment by that same clan, his genius overshadowed by his birthright. Hinata had long questioned the seal, knowing it was the reason behind her cousin’s anger and hate...and she knew it was justified.

If she were to be the outlet for that hate...then so be it.

But nor would she just give up…!

No matter her pain or stumbling, she refused to stay down, even as those around her cried for the match to end. It wasn’t until her heart was struck and Neji restrained that she was removed from the arena, rushed to the hospital and barely saved from an early death.

And still she wondered...had she changed? Even a sliver?

Would everyone be...proud of her?

Neji’s match against Naruto was quite the upset, Hinata torn between her cousin defying his fate, and her idol continuing on. In the end...Naruto was victorious, and Neji left to think. And his considerations were only deepened when Hiashi finally told him the truth of his father’s death.

From there...Neji too began to change. And Hinata was eager to see it, forgiving him his aggression and wanting only to rebuild what should have been a friendship from the start. Together, they began to train and strive to improve, gauging their progress against one another.

Hinata, finally, was flourishing. No longer did she have Naruto to worry about, the Uzumaki set to leave Konoha for three years. In those same years, she was determined to become someone worthy to walk beside a student of a sannin...and everyone else in their year. No longer would she be the timid, hesitating little genin. Hyūga Hinata was going to blossom at last.

And with her confidence...her hair began to grow. With Hiashi’s acceptance of her and Neji’s growth and independence, she was left to craft her own image. Foggy memories of her mother always included long, dark hair. So Hinata decided to emulate.

The next four years were filled with constant effort. Even upon Naruto’s return, she refused to waver. Though still soft compared to others she knew - Sakura’s take-no-shit attitude, Ino’s unshakable confidence, Tenten’s self-assured will to reach her goals - Hinata nonetheless kept training.

So when she stood before her village’s greatest enemy in the pits of its ruination, she did not tremble or flee. She stood her ground...even if, in the end, she knew it would be useless.

No more running away. No more second guessing. No more doubt. Even if she would face death...she’d do so with her head held high.

But Pein did not kill her, despite his best intentions. Hinata scraped through, her second near-death experience only serving to harden her resolve. Come wartime, she was ready, giving her all for her village, her country, her world. All of her hard work, all of her effort...it couldn’t be for nothing.

...and then the mokuton speared through her most beloved cousin’s chest.

Neji...unshakable pillar of strength and inspiration. Her cousin, her mentor, her friend...choosing his ultimate destiny. For her sake.

It shattered her, it boiled her...but only for an instant, heart pushed back to let her mind do what had to be done in the aftermath.

In the end...they were victorious. The cost was high, but that of losing would have been the ultimate price. Priorities, perspective...everything was changed.

A long-standing friendship would see her cousin brought back to her, and Hinata vowed then and there that she would never again let a brother die for a brother unless it was his own will. The Hyūga seal would die with him...but this time, stay dead.

Looking in the mirror of her rebuilt room, still novel after the leveling of Konoha, Hinata tries to recognize her reflection. The past several months after the war have been...difficult. Rewarding, but a test of her resolve and spirit. Hanabi has been working with her, alongside Neji, to end the Hyūga seal. Their Uchiha allies stand with them. But there’s still something missing...and she can’t quite place it.

She looks into the mirror...and in some ways, she doesn’t recognize who she sees. Hinata of the past is only caught in glimpses, pieces of the face that stares back. Her face isn’t as round as it once was, stripped of the stubborn baby fat that always made her look so childish. Still heart shaped, it’s more mature than it used to be. Her eyes are the most distinct difference. Hardened with all they’ve seen, shadowed with a lingering exhaustion she can’t seem to shake. So many time she closes her eyes and sees the war...sees Pein...sees the Tsukuyomi dream that now feels more like a nightmare.

...she really has changed. But has it been in all the way she’s wanted?

Studying her own face, she grips a pair of scissors in her hand. The tradition of long hair in the Hyūga is a prominent one. Her father, her cousin...Hanabi is the only exception, but she’s still young despite her heiress position. Soon, Hiashi will let her grow it out as a symbol of recognition.

Hinata, however...knows of another rite of passage. That of severing the past, giving oneself a clean slate. For four years now, she’s let her locks grow unfettered. These strands know of her failures, her victories, her joys and her sorrows. If she cuts them off - if she severs them now - will she get the rebirth she wants?

...for now, she sets the blades aside.

A bit more time to think.

“...you want to what?”

“It just feels like...maybe I should.” Hinata brings her hair around her shoulder, stroking at it slowly as Sasuke watches. He’s become a close companion during his stay in Konoha after his brother’s return. There’s only a handful of people she would consider breaching this topic with, and he was the first to come to mind that would give an honest answer. “...while I’ve grown a lot from all I’ve faced these past few years...it also feels like it’s all weighing on me. Part of me...wants to be rid of that weight.”

Sasuke knows the tradition well - Sakura did it during the chūnin exams, and another dear friend did the same for a fresh start so many years ago. “...I suppose that decision lies most with you.”

“...you really don’t have any o-opinion?”

“If you want to cut it, cut it. If you have any doubts, don’t. While it will, in time, grow back...it’s a lesson in consequences. This decision will have lasting ones. But…”

She glances up as he fades to silence, and then stiffens as he takes a section of strands. For a moment, Sasuke’s gaze is miles away...and she has to wonder what he’s seeing.

“...the rumors were true back then. I’ve always been fond of long hair. But no one ever really knew why.”

“...what was the reason?”

“...on most people, it’s never really mattered to me. Sakura’s didn’t, Ino’s didn’t...because it wasn’t quite right. But in your case...it fits rather well.” Slowly, he lets the hair slip from his grip. “...I like long hair because it reminds me of my mother. It’s not quite the same shade, but...yours reminds me of hers the most.”

In spite of herself, Hinata feels her heart quicken in her chest. She...she reminds Sasuke of his mother…?

“...but it’s still your choice. I can see the reasoning from both sides. Don’t make a call on my account, or anyone else’s. Like I said, your choice will have consequences, but...yours, at least, won’t be forever. It can grow back again. Not everything - or everyone - has that luxury.”

Hearing the weight in his words, Hinata swallows dryly. “I...I understand.”

“...good. Did you need anything else?”

“No, um...that was - that was all I wanted to ask you. Thank you...for being honest with me.”

“It’s one of my few virtues,” he replies, giving a hint of a smile. “Hope you find some peace, whatever you decide, Hyūga.”

Nodding, she watches him go, her heart finally calming as she finds herself alone. Pale eyes flicker back and forth as she thinks.

...maybe...the scissors can wait.

                                                            .oOo.

     I am...v tired, so I dunno if I'll have much to say this time around xD      Hinata's hair, as small of a detail as it might seem, is interesting to me. Kishi obviously kept it short to signify her lack of care about Sasuke's supposed preference, but...well, it obviously is a little different in a universe where they get together. The verse I write really only changes post 699, so maybe her motivations ARE still the same when she's little. But I also like the idea of the Hyūga influence, too. Neji is a bit of an outlier there, but that COULD be explained by his genius, even if he's not Main House.      ...I dunno, I'm too tired to elaborate as thoughtfully on this as I want to, but hopefully you get my meaning xD      With that tho, I'm gonna wrap up. Thanks for reading!

[imagine-loki]

Seiðmaðr

TITLE: Seiðmaðr

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 6/? AUTHOR: goldtrimmedspectacle ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is attacked and forgets his past. Now riddled with amnesia, Loki must decide whether to follow his mind and return his memories, or to follow his heart and find true happiness. RATING: PG13. Will go up in later chapters. NOTES/WARNINGS: Angst. Can be found on AO3.

Hear on the wind how the pendulum swings Feel how the winter succumbs to the spring Over the palisade morning will break Rise up to meet it, oh sleeper awake

- Caesar, the Oh Hellos

CHAPTER SIX

You handed the butcher a handful of ingots as he passed the sealed package of meat over the counter, tied together with a thin string, and into your waiting hands. The burly man stood behind the counter with a large smile, rewarding your thanks with murmured ‘of course’, coated in the thick regional accent of western Innangard and nodding his thanks in turn. From the front of the counter, you watched him stash the coins inside a clay jar, allowing the few coins to fall into his growing collection, and waved as you slipped out of the front door.

  “Have a good day.”

  The door slammed shut as you stepped onto the busy streets of Sandnæs, leaving you alone on the butcher’s front step with a small package of food for the oncoming day.

  A woman bustled besides you, smiling apologetically as she reached for her rushing child and pulled them back into her arms. The precocious toddler squirmed in her arms for a few seconds and then fell into their mother’s chest with a soft noise, followed by the mother cooing and forcing herself into a fast gait. The toddler peered over their mother’s shoulder and cooed at you briefly, disappearing behind one of the central town buildings a moment later.

  Swayed by the sweetness of the child’s toothless smile, you juggled the crinkled parcel with one hand and slid the meat into your side satchel alongside a loaf of bread that you had purchased from a nearby bakery. The endearing front and sign, spelling out Sæti Bakery in cursive, had lured you in – as did the sweet scent of custard pastries and cake.

  No wonder it was Bjarke’s favourite bakery in Vanaheimr.

  It was endearing and mildly annoying at how vastly Bjarke praised the bakery every time he visited, groaning with every bite of their carrot and rhubarb cake. The crumbs would often fall into his beard and gather until he finished off all the pastries he desired, so you were thankful to have gone alone for once. Without the added groaning and drooling from Bjarke, that is.

  Closing the satchel once more, you glanced into a nearby shop window and read the time plastered on the shop’s clock face.

  Half hour past twelve.

  Two hours had passed since you had left Ormr in the care of Healer Kari’s hands. His deteriorating state and the news of concentrated seiðr poison in his bloodstream had left the man beaten and exhausted upon the bed on which he lay. Even after leaving him in the care of such an experience healer, as displayed through Kari’s quick actions and previous experience in the medical field, you still felt uncomfortable having left the aching man in the grasp of another – despite your prior comments on passing him off to the next living soul who could heal him.

  However, whether it was his easy and quick words, or the manner in which he teased you, or the sudden act of trust in which Ormr had read out his mother’s last words to him. The man had grown on you like a thick moss.

  Granted, not a sturdy piece of moss, for it was a new ungainly friendship, but there were traces of life and flourishment in the odd friendship that had blossomed between the two of you.

  It had also taken you another half hour to allow the full consequence and meaning of Kari’s words to settle within your pounding head. The adrenaline of Ormr’s passing sickness and the sudden kaleidoscope of information about Ormr’s gift in seiðr – which you had reacted in a rather dismissive manner, you now realised – having thrown your thought process for a mental loop.

  It was rather overwhelming, having discovered the man only a few days prior and healing him under the beating summer sun, only to create an odd unstable friendship with him. His mannerisms still puzzled you at times, leaving you unsure of what phrases would set him over the edge or what would be considered taunting rather than teasing in his eyes. However, you did note that friendships were often built in less extreme scenarios, but it did not mean that Ormr and yourself were incompatible as companions.

  There were many companionships that had been formed in far fewer than seven days.

  Burying the thought, you glanced down at the lunch you had bought yourself and Ormr, that is if he was awake when you returned and tried to remember the right turn in which the side streets would lead you towards the main road leading into Sandnæs’ centre. Thankfully, in the time you had been apart from Ormr you had reunited yourself with Sandnæs layout and the townspeople – a sight to behold, granted there were far fewer people here than in previous years. You had also been able to require lodgings for the next few nights, and you had been gifted the opportunity to visit the passing merchants’ market, where there were many different and unique items being sold for either very extravagant or suspiciously low prices.

  A golden pendant had caught your eye briefly, although the outrageous cost had made you decide it was a lost cause – no matter how enchanting the colourful design was.

  Walking back through the opening streets of Sandnæs, satchel in hand, you decided a slow stroll back to the healers was your best decision in that instance and chose to gaze through the windows of multiple shops and stalls. The sound of voices and rolling carts on the bustling streets was a welcomed backing track as your eyes wandered from necklace to vial to book and then back to the buffed suits of armours and engraved swords, as well as the fancy clothes depicted in high-esteemed tailors and their partnerships.

  The larger shops continued for a while longer but eventually, the more family-orientated and smaller shops filled the streets. There were Vanir flooding out from each of the cobbled buildings and sharing their wares in small stalls in front of their homes, yelling out prices and bargains to the passerbys.

  You paused in front of a small bookshop.

  The display in the front window was petite in size with a varying range of thick volumes and journals for women and men of incredible penmanship. There was even a small collection of ink pots framed by thick quills and shiny tips. Besides, the beautiful quills stood even more books arranged into small piles – spanned over the wooden shelf to display the intricate leather-bound covers and titles.

  Whilst it was true that you did not often indulge in literature, you held an odd admiration for the written thoughts of another. Especially those of a fictional world where young children and adults were capable of escaping reality, at least for a moment. But that did not mean philosophers and their beliefs did not deter your attention either, as there were many interesting theories and discussions often held within the binding of a good book.

  Ormr seemed particularly interested in books, you noted in a passing thought, perhaps I should purchase a volume for him?

  A short-lived idea.

  It was a silly notion, you realised, and turned to head back – acknowledging that Ormr could choose his own books when he was moving once more. That is if he wished too. Yet, a thin book with the title Seiðr and Potions caused you to pause. The cover was thinner than the other more expensive books, but the intricate golden detailing seemed to make up for its small size, and you found yourself estimating the cut in your wages. Through much mental debate with what crossed the line of a kind-hearted stranger and friend, or an overtly friendly fool, you entered the shop.

  The exchange of money and paper was quick and painless, the book costing very little in comparison to some of the larger copies and finer covers, and you exited a few moments later with the volume in your arms and the hope that Ormr would enjoy it. Especially as you were uncertain if Ormr could actually remember how to use seiðr, no less use it without an infliction of seiðr poisoning. But perhaps he would simply appreciate the aesthetic of the green leather and black ribbon? Or, if his seiðr was currently indisposed, he would appreciate the connection to his past by the formation of potions and remedies.

  It is a gift of consolidation, you decided, an act of offered friendship and a further alliance, considering how Ormr may be staying with Bjarke and myself.

  It was a satisfying decision. Especially as you were sure that Ormr would feel quite alone and confused once he awoke, and if you were there to calm him down with a few sarcastic remarks and something familiar for him to grasp, then perhaps it would allow Ormr a source of comfort. Moreso, you were unsure whether the man would find your presence a comfort in such trying times. You may still be a stranger or newly-earned friend in his eyes, and the memory of Ormr’s sudden anger at your curious questions did not lay unforgotten.

  Checking the time once more, you found that the town clocks had struck half one. Distracted by the wares of an iron merchant, you hadn’t heard the town clocktower strike the hour.

  Finding it a good time to start your walk back, you checked that nothing had been lost in your traipse around town. And despite the slight squashing of the bread, everything appeared intact, so you slid the book into a side pocket and twisted the strap around your shoulders. The food and book fit snug in the leather hide, unbothered by the battering they received through the busy streets of Sandnæs, so you continued the walk with no further interest regarding the side stalls situated along the cobblestoned roads.

  When you arrived back at the healers, the swinging sign at its front had been washed during your absence and the door was flung wide open to allow some diminishment of the summer heat. Without its swinging motion, the entrance permitted you to walk into the small front of the ward without the shop bell chiming your arrival, and greeted the two young apprentices behind the counter.

  Both girls were young in their age, cusping on the awkward verge of childhood and adulthood. Both held similar features, however their skin varied in tone and one of the two sisters were speckled with lack of pigment, whereas the other had hair that bunched around their ears and her sister wore braids that fell to her shoulders.

  Both wore the embroidered symbol of the Sandnæs ward on their clothes.

  “Hello, how may we assist you today?” The smaller asked, face stretched into a warm smile whilst her sister gathered a handful of plants and vials – sorting them into an open cabinet to the side of their station.

  “Healer Kari asked me to come back for my companion,” you shifted the bag on your hip and nodded towards the curtain leading towards the back ward. “A man named Ormr who suffered from a poison-induced…seizure – long black hair and green eyes. Quite lithe and tall.”

  The twins glanced at one another.

  “Are you Jorunn?”

  By Odin, you cursed Bjarke for the endearing title.

  “Yes. I was the woman who delivered Ormr this morning,” you nodded in regards to the girl’s question, “My travelling companion and I came across him a mere few days ago. The man has been in my care since he was discovered and our party had only been able to reach town early this morning.”

  The taller of the two grimaced.

  “He is awake. Please, follow me.”

  Trailing after the girl, you passed the smaller of the two sisters, who smiled warmly once more, and through the red curtains – ducking between the folds of fabric. Inside the ward, rays of sunlight filtered the room where more men and women lay in the ward beds. Few were alone whilst others were covered by healers of varying ages and colours, all practised in the art of seiðr.

  None were men. As was custom to the Vanaheimr realm.

  Kari came fluttering up to you in a spike of anxiety, her hands gripping yours as she pulled you away from the young apprentice without a word. The young girl did little but wait for the older healer to pull you away, before turning and retreating into the storefront where her sister sat in waiting. Her hands were still as she retraced her steps and offered an unvoiced apology for the condition you would find your companion in.

  “Thank the Norns, you are back!” Kari bit out, relief encasing her voice as she hurried you out of the public ward. “The man – Ormr – he did not react well to your departure.”

  “My departure?”

  “Yes, very badly. Incredibly badly. Never have I seen such a violent response to someone’s absence.” Kari bit her lip and winced, “I did not anticipate such a panicked reaction to his awakening but it took more than three of my healers to stop his attack.”

  You faltered in your steps.

  “Attack?”

  Kari paused in front of a closed wooden door.

  “Ást,” she turned and her eyes searched yours patiently, ignoring the frantic tone in your voice, “You must understand. Ormr - you do not know who he is or where he has come from. The man could be of any mother or father in the realms. We do not know him or his heritage, but trust me when I say he has been injured very badly. Physically and mentally. Whilst his physical injuries have been healed and I can temporarily cure his poisoned ailment, there are traces of injuries that as healers of the body, we cannot fix.”

  The realisation that struck with her words caused shame to bottle in your chest, especially as Ormr’s previous actions had hinted towards evidence of physical and psychological abuse. 

  “Ormr has been injured by faculties of the mind and conscience, and my wards and I cannot help a man with those kinds of injury. Please understand, Ormr meant nothing in his attack and my own healers know this. He was scared and in pain, not to mention forcefully sedated during his seizure. I am unsure of the extent concerning his mental condition, but he is not the worst we have seen and he is not the best either. We have no knowledge in the extent of his poor mental health, but it is not our right to push his boundaries.”

  “And the attack?”

  Kari grimaced.

  “Another healer, one of the more experienced, thankfully,” she breathed out. “But when the man awoke, he was distraught – it was a mistake to move him whilst asleep, granted, as it was a mistake to have you leave whilst he was under. But the attack I speak of – he tried to physically harm one of our healers when they attempted to touch him.”

  You ran a few fingers through your hair as a source of self-comfort and sucked in a shaky breath.

  “Ormr did that to me the first time I tried to help him, too. But it was more as an attempt of escaping my grasp,” you lifted your head and met Kari’s eyes once more, “I am so sorry I did not warn you. I had no belief that his reactions would repeat in such a violent manner, especially as he has been so well in the past few days.”

  The older woman squeezed your arm.

  “Whilst the information may have prevented our panic, know that it is all well, krútt. You did not realise the nature of Ormr’s condition and therefore, it is not your fault. And our healer is fine – no harm done. It is not uncommon for our patients to awake in a panicked state, so rest assured that Ormr is not the first to react violently, and he shall not be the last either. However, I believe your presence would be appreciated, moreso because he was further panicked when the news of your departure reached his ears.”

  You winced, the shame strengthening until it overwhelmed your prior guilt, despite Kari’s own blatant shame, which lay heavy on her features. It was difficult to banish the regret despite your reasoning, knowing that your presence would have been a pure nuisance within the healers’ ward. And you knew Kari’s influence in your walk was out of pure heart rather than anything malicious. Besides, your walk had allowed the procession of your thoughts and feelings to be organised rather than to wallow and manifest in your mind. Not to mention, it would have been purely selfish to feast upon the ward’s rations than to buy your own food in town.

  Moving past Kari, you thanked her softly and opened the door, stepping into the small room where a single bed had been pushed up against the far wall. The bed was positioned facing the open doorway and beside it sat two side tables covered in herbal mixtures and flowers twisted towards the light coming through a framed window. The whole room was glazed in sunlight, displaying the white-washed walls and sterile placement of furniture through the rays of yellow slipping through the glass planes.

  Lying in the ruffled sheets lay Ormr bundled in several blankets and adorned in a fresh layer of plasters. His gaze remained vacant on the wall to his right, pupils frozen and glossed over by the streams of sunlight. The side of his head that had been ripped and shredded appeared to be mended now, the hair cut and sheered to a suitable length whilst any blood and cuts had been stitch and cleansed.

  You tapped on the door.

  His gaze turned to you.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Tension eased from the man’s stiff stature and his body fell more languidly onto the stiff sheets stretched across his bed. His eyes still drilled onto your worried form, eyebrows furrowed and a sneer coating his lips. An air of animosity filled the sterile atmosphere, causing you to shift and brace yourself for further violence or distrust from the injured man.

  “I am better.”

  The curtness in his answer cut an inch too deep for comfort.

  “I am glad. I feared for your health when your body reacted so violently to the healer’s seiðr,” you offered softly and walked into the room, slipping the satchel from your shoulder and grabbing a chair. “I apologise I was not here when you awoke – Kari sent me to fetch food and to prevent any disruption inside the main ward.”

  Ormr hummed and his eyes slid off your form, back towards the open window where the noise of carts and people echoed from the busy streets. His eyes seemed to freeze over and his features fell flat, refusing to meet your eyes once more.

  “Good. I was glad that you were not here. It allowed me some time away from yours and your companion’s boorish company.”

  There was an angered bite to his tone, seething and rejected in nature, but the manner in which he spoke was cool and unfeeling. No emotions reached past his jaw and his features remained cruelly despondent.

  You had experienced such behaviour before, and you would not fall flat in your attempts to break the frozen façade now.

  “I am glad then, that you found time to relax and heal despite my absence,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the manner in which Ormr’s eyes twitched. “I bought us food – meat cutlets, such as boar and pig – and bread from a nearby bakery.”

  You dug the packages out from inside your bag and laid them on the table besides Ormr. The parcel crinkled loudly in the tense silence and you laid the meat out for the man to see and pick. The bread was, thankfully, pre-sliced and parts of the crust flaked from its paper coverage.

  “I am no longer hungry, thank you. The healers have fed me in your absence.” Ormr turned his head away from the food, however his eyes wavered in their attention for a moment, foiling the man’s silver tongue and his waspish words.

  “Well, if you find yourself able to stomach the food,” you sandwiched a piece of meat between two slices and bit into it, fully-acknowledging Ormr’s attention on your meal, “then I believe it is best to leave the bread and cutlets for your disposal.”

  The man faltered in his stoic behaviour, hands inching across the stiff bedsheets and eyes growing a small degree warmer, all whilst he stared at the bread squashed between your fingers.

  His voice softened.

  “Thank you.”

  You nodded and took another bite, brushing crumbs from the travelling trousers you adorned at that moment. True, it was a futile attempt in clearing the mess which would grow as you finished the sandwich, hunger temporarily quenched, but you found that the previously tense silence had grown slightly less overbearing as you sat and ate.

  “Oh,” you broke the silence again and swallowed the last bite. “I bought you a gift in town – something you showed interest in earlier, when we were riding Raoul through the Sandnæs’ centre.“

  Ormr watched as your hands slipped into the bag once more, pulling the green leather-bound book from its pocket and smoothing out the black ribbon attached to its spine.

  “Here. I am unsure whether Kari has informed you fully of your ailments, but I believe this book will be helpful or at least entertaining for you to read,” you explained and laid the volume on Ormr’s lap. He gazed at the book a moment longer and ran his fingers over the ridges of detail on its cover and spine.

  Lifting the book from his sheets, you watched as Ormr thumbed his way between the volume’s pages and curled the ribbon over his left hand. A look of grief and ease flooded his features, polar-opposites consuming his mind as he pulled the book further into his chest and allowed the smell of ink and paper to flood his senses. His eyes teared up momentarily, chest clenched and left hand rubbing over the dips of his fingers and the silk bookmark.

  “Seiðr and potions?” Ormr licked his lips and traced the cursive letters slowly. “Thank you – for your gift, that is.” He faltered and pulled himself further up the bed, book tucked into the crook of his arm, and sat to his full height.

  “It is alright. I’m glad you like it, especially as I hope it may help for future references.”

  He nodded.

  “Yes, the healers explained to me what occurred,” Ormr’s façade crumbled as a small wince coated his features. “I apologise for causing such an event,” he paused at the word, “but it is quite nice to understand the extent of my injuries, I suppose.”

  A lingering sense of bitterness weighed heavy on his tongue.

  “So, you know of the seiðr and poison?”

  “Yes, I know of the seiðr and poison,” he recited your words with a quirked eyebrow. His face held no remaining angst or anger as he traced over the book’s textured cover.

  “And, are you alright?”

  “What? Are you a mind healer, now?” Ormr spat out, shoulders tensing and fingers curling over the book’s surface. His defensiveness fell as swiftly as it built and Ormr’s body unfurled itself, a look of shame flooding his features, “I apologise, that was – uncalled for. I am not quite in the right mind as of currently.”

  He picked at his thumb.

  “As much as I don’t appreciate your curtness, know that there is no harm done,” you hummed and began to make a second sandwich. “However, the next time you yell at me, I will throw a rock at you.”

  You watched Ormr, cautious of his reaction towards your light-hearted threat.

  He chuckled weakly.

  “I have no doubt, dear healer. Will you make me build a fire pit too?” He teased and rolled onto his side, facing you fully. The fabric bunched around his waist and you were happy to see the clean gauze and patches that had been applied to the worst of his cuts. No longer was he bound in bandages.

  “Most definitely, but if you behave, perhaps I will allow you to simply set up our beds for the night,” you grinned and handed the prepared food over, “Now eat. Despite your gilded words, I know the behaviour of a starving man.”

  Ormr hesitated and took the food, accepting his lies and your truth.

  "Thank you, again.”

  His words held more meaning than was spoken, but you accepted the subject of which he voiced.

  You sat a while longer as Ormr ate the meal, supplying him with another sandwich and another roll of bread that you had bought. He eventually ate the entirety of the bread and finished off the remaining meat, all which he consumed with the ravenous nature of a bilgesnipe.

  “I feel like you and Valencia would get along just fine.”

  Ormr paused in his chewing.

  “Bjarke’s wife?”

  “Yes,” you smiled brightly, “She could feed both the army of Hel and the Valkyries. No doubt if you were to meet, the poor woman would never let you leave her home without a few pies and roast under your belt. That is, if the children do not eat the pies before you do.”

  Ormr chuckled and lapsed back into silence as he finished off the last pieces of meat. He passed over the last piece of bread - a truce and an apology. The bread and meat packaging were slipped inside your bag, and you took a bite of the slice he offered.

  The following hour you remained by Ormr’s side in comfortable ease. The awkward tension had ceased and so the pair of you indulged yourselves with the book you had gifted him, Ormr reading out each passage for his interest and your own. When the town clock tower struck four, Ormr silenced and turned to face the northern window. His eyes watched the clock’s hands land on the number four, the bells sounding as you rose and wiped off any remaining crumbs that resided on your trousers.

  “I fear that I must leave – Bjarke and Valencia will be expecting me soon for dinner,” you explained and slipped the satchel back onto your shoulder. “And I doubt Raoul is most grateful about his stay in the public Sandnæs stables.”

  Ormr stayed silent as the chair was tucked away and your satchel shifted. His eyes seemed wary as you rose and stood by his bed. His hands wrung around each other subtly, acutely hidden by his sheets.

  “Hopefully, by tomorrow you will be discharged and I can take you back to our current lodgings. Whilst Bjarke stays with his family, I have bartered two rooms in a nearby tavern. I will come to pick you up tomorrow around noon – that is, if you believe to feel up for it.”

  Ormr’s hands fell and the wariness lessened.

  “So, you will be returning?” There was a definite change to his voice.

  “Of course,” your eyebrows furrowed, “You did not believe I would abandon you to the healers’ hand, do you?”

  Ormr’s eyes shifted.

  “You did.”

  “When I awoke,” he spoke slowly, “one of the healers. She said that you had left the ward. Left me, I suppose, to fend for myself.” Ormr shifted his head upon the pillow. “I did not believe you would come back, nor that you would wish to keep me as a companion. I am not the easiest of men to be around, especially with the newly discovered circumstances. Such is the reason why I acted so, um, coldly, towards you.”

  “Ormr,” you sat on the bed and refrained from touching his arm, “I know that we are barely strangers. Barely friends. But know that I have no intentions of leaving you alone without your request. Bjarke and I want to offer you a place with our travelling party. We would be happy to have you join our journeys to other regions and realms.” You laughed at his frown. “Okay perhaps I would be happy to have you join our small travel party, but I truly believe that we could be friends. Or at least, I would like us to be friends. And I would like to assist with earning your memories back, with or without the poison in your system.”

  The injured man faltered and a slow smile settled on his cheeks, completely filling his features with unadulterated affection and gratitude. His eyes lit up and the fire that grew behind his pupils formed an elixir of gold and green topaz. Even his cracked lips grew into crescent blossoms that shifted with a lick of his tongue.

  “I would like to be your friend too.”

  You echoed his expression and lifted a hand.

  “Friends?”

  “Friends.”

  His hand clasped yours and it was unsurprising to see the magnitude in which his palm swamped your own. The gloves which he kept had obviously been used religiously as his hands felt extravagantly soft in comparison to your own.

  “Great,” you squeezed his hand once more and dropped it. “And no worries for your previous actions. It is in the past, however harke my words that I will throw a rock at you if you repeat such actions again.”

  Ormr smiled, “I promise. And I assure you that I truly am sorry. I apologise for reacting so coldly to your arrival and any other slights I have caused in the past few days.”

  You nodded thoughtfully and squeezed his arm, glad that Ormr did not pull away from your touch.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I really do have to leave now – Valencia is not a person you wish to anger.”

  Ormr chuckled.

  “Have fun and do not do anything I wouldn’t.”

  You laughed and a smirk spread over your lips, “In which you mean, do not refrain from causing chaos?”

  His eyes sparked once more, watching as you stood to leave.

  “Dear healer, chaos is such a harsh term. Perhaps mischief would be better.”

_________

Ást– translation for love, pronounced: as-t Krútt - translation for sweetiblueutie, pronounced: kyer-root