#they are currently sitting in a tiny silver dish because it amused me to do so

[errant-light]

...so I need to fix this before our next D&D session

[prncesselene]

I can’t get enough of kanthony fics at the moment so I was v excited to see that you’re taking prompts 🤩 I know it’s been done loads, but I just adore protective!anthony fics after the carriage incident and would love to read your interpretation of it 🥺 loved your last kanthony drabble btw 💓

ahh thank you anon! 🥺i’m glad you’ve been enjoying!

i hope you enjoy this very soft, domestic take on protective!anthony hehe

(ao3)

Kate felt Anthony before she saw him.

She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, her body still clinging stubbornly to the very last bits of sleep that were left, when she felt the warm press of his lips against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

She could smell the fresh biscuits and preserves that Anthony had brought into the room on a silver tray, much like he had done everyday for the past week or so since the accident.

There were few things Kate enjoyed about being confined to her bed as her ankle slowly healed, but one thing was true: her husband was a very, very good nurse.

Kate hummed indulgently, pulling the covers close to her as she watched him set up a tray with her breakfast, strikingly handsome in the morning light. “Good morning.”

He was only half-dressed himself in a shirt and waistcoat, his neck bare and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. She loved seeing him like this, at ease and relaxed. As though the two of them were the only people in the world.

In this tiny world they'd created in their bedroom as she healed, it almost felt like they were. 

They had both needed to adjust, in the first few days after the accident. The pain had been most severe then, and Anthony had been beside himself with worry, slipping spoonfuls of laudanum into her mouth every few hours and verifying with any professional that would lend an ear that her ankle was the only issue. Anthony had made it very clear that he was to be Kate’s caretaker, and as such it was up to him to see to her daily needs.

Soon enough, the pain had settled into something slightly more manageable, and thus their new routine had formed.

“Tea?”

“Please,” she said, sitting up and dabbing at her face with the washcloth on the table closest to her. Anthony had set up a makeshift desk near her side of the bed, and that was where the tray was currently located.

Kate smiled as she watched Anthony wordlessly pour her a cup, setting it on a tiny dish with biscuits, just the way she liked it.

Oh, he believed himself the rogue, absolutely. And there was surely a time when Kate would have enthusiastically agreed. But the more she came to understand him — the more they came to understand each other — the clearer it became to Kate that while it might have been the persona he’d chosen to show the world, the person within was wholly kind and generous. One that only a lucky few were able to truly see.

“Here we are,” he said, taking the tray and placing it on her lap. “What would you like first?”

Kate bit her lip, smiling up at him. "You know, if I recall correctly, it was only my ankle that was injured," she said, waving her hands in a show of their dexterity. "I can feed myself."

Anthony tsked. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. It is of the utmost importance that you rest as much as possible."

When he raised a biscuit to her mouth she took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just enjoy the idea of feeding me.”

“I’ll happily admit it, so long as you don’t tell my secrets.” He winked at her with a charm and suavity that she was sure had made many a young lady weak in the knees in the past — only now, they were reserved just for her.

“My lips are sealed,” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him.

After breakfast had been cleared away and Kate had changed into a new shift, the two of them took their places: Kate lying on the bed, her foot raised while she tried to read or embroider or answer correspondence; Anthony at his makeshift desk, his concentration torn between any important documents he’d brought from his study and Kate’s comfort.

It was almost amusing: if she so much as sighed too despondently, he was up in an instant, asking if there was anything she needed, if the pain was alright, what he might do to make her feel better.

Most of the time, everything was fine — but Kate would have been lying if she claimed not to use this condition to her advantage.

For example, if she dropped pillows so that he might get up and replace them, guaranteeing that he might kiss her upon their replacement, well… she couldn’t very well be blamed for that.

And if she groaned about pain even when there was none so that he would adorably furrow his brow in worry and concentration, massaging her leg briefly to assuage her discomfort, it was merely her right as a patient, she believed.

Anthony was spending all of his time there, after all. He needed to feel useful. Really, she was doing him a favor.

At least, that was what she told herself.

“Anthony,” she mumbled, capturing his hand. “Would you…”

He stood up before she could get the words out, his hands ruffling the pillows behind her and mindlessly resting on her shoulders. “Yes? What do you need?”

She placed her book down in her lap, pouting in an act of meek helplessness. “I’ve grown tired of reading alone. Would you mind reading to me instead?”

He took the book from her and studied the title. “And this is a medical necessity?”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Indeed.”

She knew he wasn’t entirely fooled — never was, if she were being honest — and he seemed to know that she knew, but that didn’t stop him from taking a seat by her side anyways and opening the book to where she had last opened it.

“The night was dark and stormy as Mrs. Eversham’s carriage rattled away from the bustling streets of London…”

As he read, Kate had to admit that she wasn’t really paying attention to the contents of the novel.

How could she, when there was so much else to focus on — Anthony’s concentrated stare as he read, the way his lips moved to form the words on the page, the movement of his bare neck whenever he swallowed or spoke. That was much more entertaining than whatever was happening in the book.

When he was finished he snapped the book shut, bringing Kate back to reality and drawing her gaze away from his forearms — they were lethal, really, it wasn’t at all fair — before turning towards her.

“How was that? Did I do well?” He asked, looking a little bit like Newton when he was looking for a treat.

“You did wonderfully,” she beamed, pulling him closer to her. “So wonderfully, in fact, that I think you deserve a reward.”

“Oh?”

“Not just for the reading, I suppose,” she bit her lip, shifting and dragging him down so that he was sitting on the bed next to her. “But for everything, really… taking care of me, staying by my side everyday. You do know you don’t have to do all of that, don’t you? We have a lot of help.”

“As if I would ever let anyone else try,” he said. His hand moved to cradle her chin. “You might be surprised to hear this, Kate, but I do this — work beside you, read to you, feed you, entertain your fancies and tricks — because I enjoy spending time with you, even if we aren’t doing anything special. Just existing with you is enough.”

His fingers were running soft circles around her waist, the thin fabric of her shift doing little to mitigate the intoxicating feeling. “And taking care of you is my first priority, of course.”

Kate felt her chest grow warm. The accident had been a most unfortunate event, but ever since it had happened — ever since Anthony had told her he loved her — it was like they had gotten married all over again. Now that they could both bask freely in this new, beautiful thing that perfumed the air and sweetened pastries, making the grass a little greener and the sky a bit bluer.

“What would I do without you?” Kate whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Continue to be a plague on society, most likely,” he grinned, leaning over so that he was lying next to her on the bed and snaking an arm around her waist, very careful not to hurt her ankle. “It’s a good thing I'm here to keep you in line. Master of the house, and all that.”

“You wish,” she scoffed, pushing him away from her gently, only for him to cling to her tighter. “I will continue to be a plague upon society, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I know,” he said, planting a kiss on her brow. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kate leaned into his embrace, closing her eyes. Perhaps they might take a nap; they were certainly at their leisure to do so.

“Now, about that reward…”

She grinned. “The reward is— well, I was going to let you choose. Is there anything you’d like in particular?”

“I can think of a few things,” he murmured, kissing his way down her neck. “How much time do we have?”

Kate giggled when he reached a particularly ticklish spot. “All the time in the world, I suppose.”

[tact-and-impulse]

Holiday fic for @shepherds-of-haven! Thanks for the deadline extension. I hope I’m not too late! More under the cut or on AO3.

midwinter depths

It all started with an innocent conversation, Lavinet asking what they were planning to wear for the Wintersun Gala. The confused, collective answer was: what gala? After some back-and-forth, it became apparent that the Diminished-majority members of the newest government agency had not been invited to the illustrious holiday celebration. The reactions were varied, but they eventually came to one conclusion. Couldn’t they host a competing, more inclusive, and most importantly, better party? Certainly not as fancy, but in terms of community outreach, it would be far superior.

Responsibilities were dealt, and by dawn, the Shepherds set out to prepare.

***

The bus was late. Croelle adjusted his hat and clenched his teeth. Another inconvenience, just the latest obstacle to his work. The shelter’s glass panes looked very fragile and tempting at the moment, but ultimately, he didn’t move from his current seat on the metal bench.

A tall woman approached the bus stop, ashen hair pulled into a high ponytail to reveal slightly pointed ears. Her hazel eyes glinted with the iladrin, and one hand carried a bag of groceries. She checked her wristwatch, which sparkled with miniscule gems, and stopped at the other end of the bench. A strong wintry gust blew past, rattling the shelter. Heavy silence descended upon them.

“If you’re waiting for the bus, you might as well walk to your destination.” He intoned.

“Excuse me?” Her polished voice was more amused than affronted.

“It’s been twenty minutes. I hope you don’t have anywhere urgent to be.”

“And why are you still here?” She retorted.

He lifted the brim of his hat, to look at her again. Pale brows, an aquiline nose, a thin mouth colored by dark mauve lipstick. Handsome, he supposed. “Are you a Shepherd?” He had dragged his line of sight away from her face to the embroidered hound on her coat.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Dragged into it, really. Speaking of which...” She handed him a blue and silver flyer, detailing games, raffles, and a potluck dinner. “We’re hosting a party tonight at our headquarters. Ten danars admission, though I’m not sure whether it’ll be enforced. It’s mostly for the rest of the Shepherds, and their friends and families.”

“Is that what your bag is for?” He turned his attention to her purchased items.

“Oh, I don’t cook for groups. But I was assigned to buy ingredients for punch and I’m very good at making vytas.” She rummaged through a variety of fruits, before removing a jar of honey and admiring the color in the weak morning light. “I’m picky about my ingredients. No alcohol though, to be palatable for Mages like us.”

“I’m not a Mage. And I don’t eat fruit.”

She tilted her head, stepping in his direction. He flinched, as her gaze ran over him in obvious scrutiny. “How are you still alive?”

This close, he was able to see her hair clip. Three birds in flight, carved out of lacquered wood. He evaded her question. “For the same reasons anyone else is.”

She didn’t respond to that, still analyzing and trying to puzzle him out. Definitely, this Mage was a strange one. He hadn’t heard of any such figure in the Shepherds, but he could always use his resources to find out. She pivoted away from him, putting her jar back. “So, are you going to attend?”

“I have work. Why? I’m not your friend or family. Are you desperate for my company?”

“No.” She easily replied. He refused to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I only want to make sure that my effort pays off.”

“You hate holidays, don’t you?”

Her slight smile became brittle. “Do you only ask questions and never answer them?”

A short, derisive laugh escaped him. “Part of the job.” Wait, what was he doing? Conversing, letting down his guard, still sitting here instead of headed to his next assignment. He might have suspected she was an Enchanter if it weren’t for the wristwatch. The pearly face bore the symbol of the Shifters, the points and curls in fine etching.

“And what is your job?”

“You’re a nosy woman.”

“I prefer ‘curious’.”

“There’s such a thing as being too curious for your own good.”

“I’m not particularly interested in being good.”

He grabbed her slender hand, and she emitted a startled noise as he pulled her towards him. He lowered his voice, speaking into one tapered ear. “Interested in being bad then?”

She was perfectly still for a moment, her pulse rapid under his fingertips, and then, she roughly pulled away. Her eyes locked him in a deadpan stare. “That’s another question, and for this one, I’ll follow your example and decline to answer.”

“Hmph.” Determinedly looking past her form, he spotted a van turning the corner, the Shepherds’ emblem on the hood to mark its status as a government vehicle. “There’s your ride.”

She followed his line of sight and blinked. “Oh. So it is. Would you like to come along? The driver’s my kin, and he won’t mind.”

“I’d rather not.” He scowled, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodbye.”

“Well, if your work allows it, feel free to stop by tonight’s dinner. I don’t have to remind you to try the vytas.” She pointedly lifted her bag and then laid a hand upon her lapels. “You can ask for me, Zoegea. And you are…?”

He grunted. “Croelle.” And with that, he walked away before the van arrived. Minutes later, he wondered how he could be so foolish to tell her his name. Just for that, he had to pry more information out of her. He crumpled the flyer in his pocket but it stayed there.

***

The smell of baking bread was one of the best things in the world. Trouble knelt down, to peer into the oven. The rolls were puffy and golden-brown, nearly ready to eat. There was something nostalgic about waiting and watching, like he was five again and his mother was cooking in their tiny kitchen.

A rustle of movement caught his attention and he met bright amber eyes as his partner mirrored his position. “Hey, so the mashed potatoes should be done soon. What’s next?”

“We should be good for now. Thanks, Senna.” He grinned.

“No problem! So, what’re you doing?”

“Just checking on the rolls. Best part of being on the team in charge of side dishes.” It was always enjoyable to mold the balls of dough in his floured hands. He splayed his fingers over the warm glass. “It takes me back to when I was a kid. My mum made her own bread.” Right now, the yeasty aroma of the dinner rolls was just like the one that permeated the cozy apartment of his childhood.

“So did mine!” She eagerly shared the similarity. “Not that the Westwood bakery’s was bad, but I always liked hers best.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel!”

She rocked back on her heels, her tanned face flushed. “I actually remember my mom’s recipe, so I bake now and then. It’s not exactly the same though.”

“But it’s something. I couldn’t read before my own died.” His memory of her was vague. She had pinned her hair when washing other people’s clothes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair had been blond like his, but her eyes were a warm brown. Her voice was sweet though it was harder to recall now. Her scent was the easiest: clean linen and a touch of spiced apples. Other than that, he didn’t even have a photograph. “Wish I knew how she did it.”

“Maybe, we can figure it out. Or at least, get pretty close.” She suggested. “We can bake multiple batches and narrow it down from there, based on what you tell me.”

“Trial and error, huh?” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that! When should we start?”

“Probably sometime in the new year. When are you available?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll find the time. Just text me and I’ll be there. Do you have my number?”

“Yup, I saved it when you recruited me.” She flashed a thumbs-up. “I’ve just never had to text you before, because I keep running into you.”

“Hey now, you’re the Diviner.” He joked. “You’re not using magic to find out which bar I go to?”

“Trouble, you always go to The Burning Crown.”

“It’s the free drink Nessa gives me every time. Actually, I think I should probably switch it up. Too many fights break out in there, and uh, I’m trying to follow your advice.” If she hadn’t stopped him, his old gang would have been too glad to bring him down to their level. That wasn’t what a Shepherd did, and having her near was a good reminder.

“That’s great!” Her smile was wide and honest. “I know it’s hard, but I’m really happy you’re trying. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do it, I believe in you.”

He coughed, as an excuse to stop staring. “Well, you’ve shown me that talking out of a brawl is an option.” Then, he winced. “Ah, shit, I gotta stand up again. My legs are killing me.” He stood, his thighs burning, and offered a hand to her. She grasped it, and as soon as she was upright again, she quickly squeezed.

“I don’t think I’ve had a Wintersun like this before. Today’s been so much fun.”

“Me too. It’s always fun spending time with you.”

She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he felt suspended in place. Then, with a sudden draft, Riel stepped in, carrying a clipboard.

“Are we on schedule?”

Trouble noticed she had let go, and he crossed his arms, pressing his empty hand against his body. “For sure, we are. Even though we won’t be serving until six tonight, we’ll be ready by then.”

“Parties usually start late, anyway.” Senna added, with a sparkle in her eyes.

Riel pinched the bridge of his nose. “And guests arrive early. Regardless, if you need anything from the supply team, tell me before five so I can accommodate you accordingly.”

“Understood!” A whistling ringtone began to play, and she removed her phone from her apron pocket. “Oh, good. I was waiting for them to call back. Sorry, this will be just a few minutes. But if not, I’ll see you later. And I’ll text you about our meeting, Trouble!”

“Looking forward to it!” He replied as she sprinted out.

Riel’s cool gaze shifted between Trouble and the swinging door. “A meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bake bread together. Isn’t that nice? She’s a great friend.” In response, he gave such a long sigh, that Trouble demanded. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Never mind.” He was already walking away.

“Oi! Just tell me!”

***

The knife moved easily in his grasp, as he sliced the parsnips. If the rest of his family could witness what he was doing, they’d be delivering the full brunt of their disapproval. Before today, he also thought he was better suited to security detail, but he had been convinced to join the rest of his friends. His squad insisted they’d be fine, Trouble had extolled the benefits, and a particular pair of deep brown eyes had been disappointed as the owner asked. “Are you not going to cook with us?”

Thus, here he was, preparing roasted vegetables for an impromptu party.

His partner for this task had her own tray, and she carefully sprinkled garlic salt over the halves of looked like miniature cabbages. When he brought over the parsnips, she glanced up at him. “Oh, you’re already done? Thank you, Blade!”

He stiffly nodded. “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, I’m okay. These are ready, so I’ll put them in the oven. You can get a drink.” A quick smile, and she was off to the adjacent kitchen. The storage room wasn’t as warm, and soundlessly, he crept out. He returned before she did, with two water bottles retrieved from the cooler in the hallway.

Wintersun was just another day, or at least, that was what he believed before. Now, far from the place of his upbringing, he was often out of his comfort zone. However, he didn’t mind learning more about the world, outside of the family business. And today had been very pleasant.

When Captain Enris walked past, he held out the extra bottle, nudging it against her hand.

She blinked. “Is this for me?”

“Yes.” He raised his brows. “Take it. You haven’t been hydrating.”

“It slipped my mind.” She admitted but accepted the water. From under her sleeve, her tattoo peeked out, the inky scrawl of Kettish script unconventional but poetic. She removed the lid and drank deeply; her mouth was red and gleaming.

He abruptly dropped his gaze. “You have the tendency to put yourself last. It’s not sustainable, so you should remember to look after yourself as well.”

Her laughter rang out, clear and crisp. “Ultan said something like that, a long time ago.”

She had never mentioned the name before. He tensed, the plastic bottle crackling in his grip. “Who’s Ultan?”

“He owned a little bookshop in Courtshore. I worked for him, after Drummond’s Point was…wiped out. It was my longest job, about two years, and I really enjoyed it. He, um, found some old magic books for me; that’s how I started learning magic.”

“He must have liked you.”

She hummed, considering the possibility. “I think so. He was a Norm but his late wife was a hedgewitch, so he always kept me safe. If anyone was suspicious, he said I was his granddaughter sent to live with him. I’m not sure if they really bought it though…”

He was a tiny bit happier that the connection was familial, although he was unsure how to feel, being compared to someone who was like her grandfather. He decided on tentative compliance. “Would you have stayed with him?”

“I don’t know. He fired me, you see.”

“What? Why would he? You’re…a good worker.” Damn, that sounded utterly inadequate. As if two words could describe how important her presence had become to the Shepherds.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” She smiled. “But what he thought is still a mystery. He just gave me the week’s wages and told me I wasn’t welcome anymore. So, I just kept moving, and I never heard from him again.”

His anger on her behalf lingered but he kept his response neutral. “It’s his loss and our gain. I’m glad you’re here in Haven. It would not be the same without you.”

He was certainly not as eloquent as she was, but he hoped the Enchanter was more at ease. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and she rested her back against the wall. “That’s kind of you to say.” Fondness colored her expression.

“Does it surprise you?”

She laughed again, and he welcomed the sound. “No, not at all! You’ve always been kind. Strict, but you truly care. You’ve never led us astray, despite how you’re not a big fan of Wintersun.”

“Was I obvious?”

“Compared to everyone else, just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I noticed you’re not frowning as much. Are you having fun?”

“I’ll take the quiet now, before the crowds arrive.” He wryly answered.

“It’s close enough!” She set her half-empty bottle down and clapped. “Let’s finish seasoning the rest. I was thinking of having lunch afterwards; how about you?”

He deliberately paused. “That sounds agreeable. Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Tallys mentioned a sandwich shop the other day. I can call ahead for pick-up.” She was already pivoting.

“Linaria.”

At the rare use of her given name, she immediately turned, lips parted.

“Let me see the menu first.” He grumbled.

With another giggle, she offered her phone. “The next thing we should work on is your pickiness.”

***

The free chair was inviting, and Chase took it, sliding over to the other person at the raffle table. “Hey, sunshine. How’s the sprain?”

“Better today, but not enough.” The newly incapacitated Battle-Mage scowled reproachfully at her left foot. “So I’m still stuck here.”

“You wanted to cook?”

“Even if I could, that’d be better than tearing up tickets.” She snorted. Her fingers pulled at the paper chain, twisting at the perforated end and depositing a fresh one in his open hand. She kept the other half, flicking it into a large glass jar. Valeriana had let her hair down, which was a first. Wine red and pin straight, it framed her face and grazed her elbows. She seemed more vulnerable, her features relaxed and youthful. He idly wondered who else had seen her like this. She must have sensed his regard, because her gaze shifted to him. “Did you need something else?”

“Nope, just hanging here and watching the rest of the hospitality team. Mostly, it’s Lavinet though.” The heiress had taken charge over the decorating business and she was ordering some of the newbies around to meet her standards. Embroidered white tablecloths, silver streamers, tea lights, and authentic pine trees for ambience. It all sounded magnificently meticulous, and he was trying to avoid her, just in case. “My side’s done with the party games.”

“Yeah? What have you got?”

“Elements, dreadnoughts, pin the tail on the ahfuri for the kids. We dug up some sui boards for the older folk. Anyone with spare change can play intrigue or Angels and Devils. And darts. Bet you’d like that.” As strong as she was, he knew she valued precision most of all. It was also what he liked about her, that she could run rampant on their missions given half a chance but opted for control.

He was interested in what she was like, if she lost it.

She leaned back in her seat, the motion steering him to the present again, and cracked a smile. “That depends on what prizes you have.”

“Ah, and like with all games, your prize is based on your stakes. Anything from chocolate truffles to plushy Shepherd hound toys to gift cards. Or I can always surprise you.”

“The bar is high.” She raised her brows but her eyes glittered at the prospect. Good.

“I’ll do my best, gorgeous. So...what has our dear organization obtained for the raffle prize?”

“You’ll have to win and find out for yourself.”

“Fair enough. Let’s hope this is a lucky one.” With a flourish, he brought the ticket to his lips in a light kiss and pocketed it. Then, he gestured towards the fall of her hair. “No bun or braids today?”

One hand tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “I want less tension for now, I’ll tie it back later.”

“Gotcha.” In the meantime, he’d appreciate the view.

“Caine asked me the same thing too.” The kid was eager to help out, and at the other end of the hall, he was stringing icy blue lights on one of the smaller trees. “He said it was nice.”

“He’s right, it suits you. You look lovely.” And he meant it, not even winking.

She held his gaze, about to bite back, but she paused. The moment stretched, before she quietly replied. “Thanks.”

His skin itched and he rubbed the back of his neck. Huh. She was attractive, it was hard not to notice since the day they met. It was only that she was a lot more so, because of how intimate her appearance was. It was lust, he decided, and he could deal with lust. Yeah.

“Well,” Chase cleared his throat and ruffled her hair. To his pleasant surprise, it was very soft. “I’m off to check on my people. Keep getting stronger, sunshine.”

“Uh…right.” Her dark eyes were wide, and he couldn’t look away.

“I’ll bring you a plate of food at dinner, and then, we can swing by the darts. Sound good?”

“Sure, I guess, mm.” She didn’t blush easily, but she was clearly flustered, blinking rapidly and tripping over her words. Cute. Her long eyelashes fluttered and he was transfixed.

Then, there was a clatter, and they both whipped towards the sound. Caine had dropped a third of his lights. Wincing, he called out. “Sorry!”

“Are you hurt?” Valeriana asked.

“No, I’m okay! How’re you?” He was giving them a trepidatious expression.

Oh. Chase was still touching her head. Slowly, he let go and forced a two-fingered salute. “We’re fine here! You’re doing good, little man!”

“I’ll see if I can help him out.” She muttered.

“You don’t have to, I’ll send a couple of my guys to check on him. Get some rest before tonight, alright?”

She didn’t seem fully appeased but she grabbed her ticket chain and reluctantly nodded, echoing. “See you tonight.”

“It’s a date. Later, Valia.”

If she protested at her shortened name, he didn’t hear it. He strolled along, starting to whistle. After making sure no one else was around, he glanced down at his hand and grinned.

***

The pressure cooker must have disappeared into an adjacent plane of existence. Red sighed as he closed the latest cupboard. “Nope, not here either.”

“Seriously?!” Alcea popped her head up, from behind the counter. Her golden curls bounced, her gray eyes brimming with dismay. “Damn it, where else could it possibly be?”

“At this point, I’m wondering if we should go to the nearest mall and buy another one.”

“Yeah, but we just bought this last week! Riel would throw a fit if we went back. Anyway, it should still be in the box!” She dove again and he smiled, leaning over the granite.

“Or we could always just do it the old-fashioned way. There are plenty of pots that no one else is using.”

“I guess we can.” She grouched. “It’d just be easier to make vegetable curry when we don’t have to be watching the stove the entire time.” She pulled away from the clutter of miscellaneous cooking utensils, and agonizingly rose to her feet. “Augh, my back!”

“Are you alright?” He rushed around to help, but she shook her head.

“Only out of shape, but I’m alive.”

“Good, because I still need you.” He grinned, hiding his relief. “Who else is going to taste test?”

“Uh, nobody, because that’s my job for today? A privilege of being on the entrée team.”

“Just one?”

“One of many.” She smirked. “But I’m not giving up on our missing item! I’ll send a text to the group chat.” She dug out her phone and her thumbs flew across the screen, her charm bracelet jangling with its trio of silver birds. As they walked through the corridors, he kept a close eye, ensuring she wasn’t bumping into anything.

Their allotted kitchen space was looking rather colorful. Onions, garlic, ginger, cauliflower, peas, cans of coconut milk. Jars of spices were lined up on one end, their labels in large print. And in the midst of the ingredients, an open book waited, displaying the pages of the recipe.

He rolled up his sleeves. “So, we’re making two batches: mild and spicy.”

“Yup. Oh! Should we ask Mimir for input on the latter?”

“If she ever shows, and doesn’t she have a high tolerance? Like, she inhales what would kill everyone else?”

“Right…maybe not.”

“It was a nice thought.” He squeezed her shoulder. Years ago in Capra, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario.

They hadn’t been close then; they shared mutual friends, but he was only aware of her as ‘the other Conjurer who was always in the stacks late at night’. Conversely, she knew him as ‘the guy who tried to descend the university into Hael itself’, but mercifully, she didn’t blame him at all. In fact, the first thing she asked upon their formal introduction was how he did it. The rest was history. The Shepherds had inherited a massive library from a Mage, and on their coinciding off days, the two of them claimed a study room and filled a whiteboard with spell runes and equations. She was bright and vivacious and daring; his younger self had made ignorant mistakes, and now, he could add overlooking her to the list.

After plenty of scrambling and bitten-off curses, some of which were Elvish, their main dish was bubbling. She ladled a spoonful, blew, and sampled. Her eyes shut as she broadly smiled.

“That good, huh?”

“Don’t take my word for it. Come on, try for yourself!” She grabbed a new spoon, taking from the top. Holding the steaming mixture to his mouth, she ordered. “Open wide!”

He chuckled. “Sharing a privilege?” However, he accepted. It was delicious, fragrant with coconut and bold with delayed heat. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any left.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Nope, it’s a second to see you eat something I helped make.”

“I hope your expectations were met.”

“Exceeded, for the entire morning actually. I love working with you.” She was incredibly close, her cheeks rosy. He tilted his head-

“Hello?” A timid voice called, and they both spun around to see Shery, standing at the threshold. Her hands shook as she lifted a large, familiar box. “Um…I saw your text to the group. Were you looking for this?”

“That’s it! Thank you sooo much, Shery!” Alcea bounded forward, relieving the other blond of the pressure cooker. “Where did you find it?”

“On our side.” She pushed the nose bridge of her glasses. “It was behind one of the trash cans.”

“We really appreciate it.” Red smiled. “We’ll save a bowl for you later. Mild, of course.”

She seemed very reassured. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll hold some fairy bread for you two. See you soon.” Just as silently as she arrived, she hurried off.

He peered at the box. “I’ve never used a pressure cooker before. Have you?”

“Not for curry.” She conceded, lowering it to the floor for unpacking. “But here, let me show you the basics!”

Settling in for the explanation, he watched her animated face with pleasure. This was a privilege he would claim for himself.

***

The van slowed to a stop for the red light, so Ayla propped her feet up on the dashboard. “Think a lot of people are going to show up?” They’d been traversing Haven for a second round, buying additional supplies and plastering the last of the flyers.

“It’s cheap food and entertainment. So, probably a fair amount.” Her companion answered, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. His green gaze didn’t move from the road. “Are you inviting anyone?”

“Who would I invite? You’ve been in Haven longer than I have.”

He huffed. “Sure, I have a head start of six months, but I’ve been away on missions. Some of them were with you.”

“As if I could forget.” The light changed, and the van continued on its path.

She had hoarded every piece of information she learned about him. He was an Elementalist like her, but his skillset was well-rounded, with a preference for ice. The tattoo under his collarbone was of three birds, belonging to a species with a distinctive call, which his clan had taken for their own name as well. That song had not been heard in decades though, and he always shut down when it came to the fate of Vale. He couldn’t join the military because he was Diminished, so he had been a mercenary for a number of years. He liked his khav strong and bitter, and his toast just this side of burnt. Alright, the last bit was extraneous, but it wasn’t like she wanted to make him breakfast or anything.

“Hey, E.”

“Yeah?” He responded in kind.

“What’s eggnog taste like?”

“Did they not have any in the desert?”

“It has raw eggs, right?” She glanced behind her, to the milk jugs and egg cartons they had purchased. The other bags had remained stationary, teeming with chocolate, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream cans. “It would spoil in the heat.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile. “True. Did you ever have custard?”

“Something like that, a milk and rice pudding my parents gave me once.” She remembered the little bowl in her hands, how she licked the spoon clean. Her mother and father, grinning as they watched her try the dessert for the first time.

“It’s similar, but more drinkable. You add cinnamon or nutmeg, and sometimes, alcohol. If you don’t like it, you can just stick to the cocoa.”

“I’ll try both.” She countered. “Do you add spices to the cocoa too?”

“Some people do. I like mine with cinnamon and a pinch of chili powder.” Interesting. Another thing she learned.

The car in front suddenly braked, and she swore. The van lurched, Erigeron’s solid arm bracing over her front. As they halted, way too close to be comfortable, his other fist slammed the horn. Up ahead, a couple scurried across the road. Noticeably, there was no pedestrian crossing.

“Tourists.” She scoffed.

“Too busy looking around them to care about anyone else.” He was still touching her, and he slowly pulled away, studying her face. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” Her pulse was elevated from the near hit. The intensity of his stare made her shift in her seat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He twisted around to examine the back, grimacing. “Hope nothing’s broken.”

“That would really suck.”

They started moving again, and she glanced at the speedometer. He must have caught her wary expression, because his rough baritone added. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”

Damn, that was really smooth. She fixed her gaze out the window, trying to think of icicles and snowstorms.

It was a matter of minutes before they parked at headquarters. As soon as he removed the key from ignition, a familiar figure entered the garage.

“Oh, wonderful. I was just about to call you, darlings.” Lavinet tossed her hair and marched out to meet them. “Have you procured what’s left on our list?”

“Sure did.” He grunted and removed his seatbelt. “Check for yourself before we bring them in.”

“No need, I trust you two.”

Unloading was going to take longer than expected; they would need multiple trips. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be leaking. Ayla took a few bags, but he stopped her from grabbing the next.

“You can go inside first.”

“I can take more.”

He firmly clasped her shoulder. “Nah, just come back. Everything will be here, and you must be cold.”

She was, but she nudged his side. “Hurry up, won’t you? Elementalists can still get sick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nevertheless, he smirked. Stupid, sexy, silver-haired Mage.

Lavinet held the door and joined her for a short distance, eyes glittering. “How was your outing?”

“O-outing?” She spluttered. “We were running an errand, that’s it.”

A lofty laugh escaped the other woman, shielded by a fur-lined glove. “You aren’t fooling me at all. I noticed those little touches. I expect every detail over appetizers, dear.” With a wink and wiggle of her fingers, the heiress glided off to her next task.

“Hey!” Her protest went ignored. Burrowing her face in her scarf, she redirected an air current to cool down. It wasn’t enough.

***

The door opened, and Halek glanced towards the direction of the noise. “You’re late-” He stopped, noticing that while the newcomer also had violet eyes, she wasn’t who he was expecting. Black hair was styled in a braided crown, with a finger’s width of white weaving down the left side. One hand gently closed the door, as she hastily ducked her head.

“Sorry, I’m not Briony. We switched last minute. I’ll be helping you instead.” She went to the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands.

“Well, I’ll take any help right now. What’s your name?”

“Kalmia.” She even pronounced it the way a Hunter would, the first syllable in the back of her throat. But she was a Mage, apparent enough from her eyes, and her hair color automatically disqualified her from being a pure-blooded Hunter.

“Are you a Battle-Mage too?”

“No, I’m a Healer.”

“That’s better. Briony means well, but she tends to break things and I need the stove today.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, as she turned off the faucet. “I read the menu. It does seem like a lot…”

“It’s why we’re the first ones in the kitchen.” The pot roast was going to take most of the day to cook, and the glazed ham was a new addition to his repertoire. But he was excited to try.

She joined him in peeling the carrots and potatoes, introducing herself. She had been adopted by Hunters in Maj; he vaguely recognized the town as a former refugee campsite. After they passed, she slowly made her way to Haven. Meanwhile, this was the first year he spent beyond the largest Hunter city, The Reach. She didn’t fawn over who he was, and perhaps, that could be chalked up to how distant Maj had been. Either way, he was secretly happy.

By five, the pot roast was keeping warm in the slow cooker, and he closed the oven door on the ham. “This will be ready in a couple hours.”

“And what’s next?”

“Next, I’m going to take a nap. You can do what you want in the meantime. I’ll be in the back.”

“Oh. Alright.” She looked around, hesitant. “Um, sleep well?”

His attempt at a nod was more of a head droop. “Later.” The nearest break room had a decent couch and when he stirred awake, he felt a little better.

And the kitchen hadn’t burned down. Kalmia was taking a kettle off the stove and acknowledged his return with a little wave. Her braid had been undone, her hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “I made tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure.” He yawned. When he sat down, a steaming cup was waiting for him. The liquid was a dark gold color, still spinning gently. Used to the blends their quartermaster liked to offer, he expected sugary sweetness. Instead, this herbal tea was surprisingly mellow, like chamomile at first, before giving way to a deeper bittersweet flavor. Complex and refreshing. “This is just what I needed.”

She beamed, hands wrapped around her own cup. “It’s one of my favorites from when I was living in Leore.”

He stared at her for a few moments, before remembering to look away. “You have good taste.” His phone suddenly vibrated and he scowled at the caller ID. He let it ring, watching as the inevitable voicemail notification appeared.

“Is it a spam call?”

“Worse. My fiancé. You know, Hunters and their arranged marriages.”

“You don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t. But the other choice is to condemn everyone at home, depending on more new Hunters.”

Her expression was melancholy, and barely above a whisper, she said. “If you’re trapped, it’s not a choice at all.”

The sentiment warmed him as much as the tea did. But there was also the ring of truth in her words and the strength of memory in her distant gaze. He wondered what had happened to her, who could have hurt her. If he wanted to, he could reach across the table and pat her shoulder. Pushing the thought aside, he refilled their cups. “I have a recipe for almond cookies. It’d go well with this, next time.”

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

The implicit promise cut through the tension, and he exhaled. “I’m free whenever. In the past, I always liked Wintersun, because I have the time to cook, eat, and sleep. Or because it has ‘sun’ in the name.” Halek dryly noted.

“Oh, that’s right. I like Wintersun too. The hanging laurel especially.” She sounded wistful. “Probably because Kalmia means laurel. But you already know that.” She added, self-conscious.

“Mm. Did your parents want you to fly?”

She laughed, for the first time that day. She seemed almost surprised by it, and tried to answer him but her giggles kept breaking through. “Me, flying? As a baby?”

Happiness suited her better than sorrow, and he started to shake with repressed laughter too, at the mental imagery of a pair frantically running after a dark-haired infant drifting away from a farmhouse. He didn’t have to think of other traditions involving laurel.

***

The icing smeared in a runny white trail, drawing a groan from Briony.

“Come on!” She glared at the sugar cookie she was currently decorating, and then at the rest of the tray she had wreaked havoc on. She thought switching to the dessert team would be more fitting to her skillset and it was, until the baking was done. Somehow, all of her miniature Shepherds appeared awkwardly proportioned at best and hideous at worst.

“Everything okay?” The kind voice meant to comfort but she only felt more ashamed. Gentian’s recreation of Tangriel’s Tower was the most impressive cake she’d ever seen, with its fudgy center and raisin-lined battlements. Also...he was really cute in an apron, with his blue-black hair gathered into a bun for convenience. Really cute, even if she was kind of jealous.

“Oh, it’s just fantastic.” She grumbled. “How do you make everything look so tasty?”

“I don’t know?” He sheepishly shrugged. “How are your-oh. Well...they’re definitely original.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Yeah, her creations stood out, compared to the cake, Tallys’s individual servings of Elvish trifles, and Shery’s traditional fairy bread. “But they should taste okay! I think...”

Gentian reached for one of the smaller cookies, intended to be one of the few replicas of herself and topped with light pink frosting and violet sprinkles for her eyes. He took a bite; she held her breath. She tried not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.

“This was your first time making them?”

“Technically, yeah. Shery read the recipe I was using and said it seemed alright. I just followed the instructions and hoped for the best. I mean, I don’t remember baking anything before.” Briony nervously laughed. Beyond the past few months, she only knew her name and the password to her phone, which had been wiped clean. The Shepherds had found her in an underground fighting ring, where he slipped inside to recruit her. The glaring lights had targeted his figure when he stepped forward as her next challenger. Unassuming at first glance, but she immediately recognized he was a skilled fighter, just by how he moved. “Anyway, what do you think?”

He smiled. “I think if the rest of the tray is just like this one, you won’t have any left at the end of tonight. It’s delicious.”

“Really?!”

“Try one for yourself.”

She chose another doughy Shepherd, a navy-colored mess, and chomped it down before he could notice. It was slightly warm, the edges crispy. Vanilla and sweet icing filled her mouth. “Ah, it’s good! I need to save that recipe…it should be in my phone’s history.”

“If you need help tracking it down, I can help.”

“That’d be great! But didn’t you only see it during this morning’s meeting?”

“It was enough.”

Now, she was certainly confused. “You memorized it in less than a minute?”

Hesitantly, he replied. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“Eidetic?” The word was unfamiliar.

“Photographic is another word. I don’t forget anything I’ve seen or experienced once.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! That’s like the opposite of my problem.” That earned her a laugh, which was encouraging. She paused. “But if you don’t forget anything, that includes things you don’t want to remember, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He became quiet, his thoughts obviously far away. She’d seen him like this on occasion, especially around the Ket members.

She strode around the table and as his blue gaze drifted to her, she hugged him.

“Briony?” His soft voice had dipped low, and the vibration against her cheek made her heart flutter.

“You look like you needed a hug. And Wintersun is exactly the time for hugs. Well, so is Lovelace Day, but that’s not right now!” Lovelace Day was also a long ways off, and she imagined it would be nice to spend it with him. If he agreed. “Is this okay?”

“It is.” His hand touched between her shoulder blades, with the lightest pressure. She was about to hold him tighter when there was the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Immediately, they let go of each other. Tallys stood at the door, appearing spotless despite the day’s work.

“I was about to ask if you two had finished.” She gave them a very pointed look. “But it looks like you just started. See you around.” As she spun on her heel, she was definitely smirking.

“Oops.” Briony grinned at him. He was even cuter when he blushed. “She crept up on us.”

“I should have noticed though.” He sighed but smiled when he finally met her gaze again. His expression was gentle, without a trace of sadness. “Thank you.”

“No problem. If you’d like any more hugs, just let me know.” She spread her arms in offering.

“I’ll remember.” His tattooed wrist lifted, and he quickly tugged a lock of her pink hair, his fingertips brushing her cheek. While she was still processing that, he cited a need for more powdered sugar and headed out.

Alone, she pressed her hands to her burning face. Maybe, she could pass by him under the hanging laurel later…

***

The party lasted into the late hours of the night, and by the end of it, the Shepherds were exhausted and trudging during the cleanup. The leftover prizes were fought over, though most somehow ended up in Caine’s arms, and there was enough cake remaining to bring home, so no one was going to leave unsatisfied. The laurel branches had been plucked clean, petals stuck to sleeves and clinging to mussed hair. The unanimous consensus was that it had been a success, one final fun celebration together before they began anew. And really, that was what Wintersun was all about.

[yes-i-write]

Ch.1

This will be the start of my story.  I hope you all like it! If you do, please reblog/ like and I will post the next chapter as soon as possible!

1

        I hate the ocean.  Hate how even if it is light as can be, directly filtered from the sun, or so dark there are endless questions as to what could be hidden in its depths, it always finds a way to reveal what is best left hidden.  Maybe if those standing on shores thousands of years ago with their bare feet sinking into the sand and seafoam rolling over their toes saw nothing but their own reflection when they peered into the shallow depths, fish of all kind would not be on the verge of extinction.  Maybe if the deepest parts of the ocean weren’t just the right amount of dark and scary it wouldn’t make people want to investigate. It wouldn’t convince them it was too vast to be destroyed or that it was the perfect hiding place.  I hate the ocean.  

Almost as much as I love it.  

I love how the ocean can only be what it is, how every part of it holds something different to explore. How when it does show people their reflection, they are forced to look at an honest version of themselves.  Water cannot lie.  Like many other things it has its tricks, of course. A rising wave that appears as if it will cause major damage while far out, can fizzle out before it even makes it close to land.  In the same way a wave that is perceived to be inconsequential could develop into a tsunami.  I love how the ocean demands attention. Captivating even if it is completely still.  I love, this maybe most of all, how I can scream something into and it will keep my secrets forever.  

           Tapping my hand on the clear wall that is curved slightly outward, I try to get the attention of the first fish I have seen in months.  It has red, attentive eyes and a silver body I know will be rough to the touch.  When I was younger, about twice a month, fish of all kinds would race back and forth, and I would try to keep pace with them.  Running all throughout the house until I drove my parents crazy.  It always ended with them forcing me to sit and watch as the fish swam about from my seat.  Now I’m lucky if I see more than one at a time.  The poisonous levels of pollution on Land took care of most creatures that swim long before I was born.  The construction necessary to build communities large enough to house an entire planet beneath the waves didn’t help either.  Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure there were signs of radiation developing on Land as well, but it’s been ages since I watched the news.

           It wouldn’t matter much to me if there were, though.  The ocean is my home, always has been.  I have never looked up and seen the sky, or glanced out of a window only to catch a glimpse of a honeybee disturbing the leaves on tree. These images only exist as hazy images in my mind thanks to tales told from my parent’s memories.  Out of every window I look there is only more water to be seen and somehow that is how I prefer it.

           The silver fish, looking more and more like it is covered in armor the longer I admire it, must tire of the little circles it was swimming in and zooms away before I even think to grab my camera.  I let out a frustrated sigh, forcing myself to remember every possible detail of it to hold me over until I see another.  Without the fish there to hold my attention, it shifts to the seaweed floating aimlessly in the water.  There’s something so beautiful about the way it gives itself over so completely to the current, moving with complete abandon.  It’s captivating, the way it slices through the water and while most would say the water has the power because it controls the seaweed’s course, they would be overlooking the innate strength in being malleable.  

 “Lotus?”

           I whip my head around, my hand immediately going to my mouth in the efforts to stifle my scream.  Standing in the doorway, eyes big in her face as if my shock scared her, was Dreya. Dreya has been our housekeeper for as long as I can remember and has always been like an aunt to me. With her shiny light brown hair and short stature, she looks years under her true age.  My heart finally decides to beat at a reasonable speed and I smile in her direction.  She shakes her head at me, her long hair brushing the bottom of her back while her slightly too large for her face nose scrunches up as she tries not to laugh at my reaction.  “Did you need me,” I ask as she walks further into the living room.  She looks even smaller in the open space as the large cream-colored couches and the window walls that make up the room dwarf her.  The water reflects onto everything, making her skin the slightest shade of blue.  

“Yes dear, your mother has requested to speak with you in the kitchen.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” she says, with one eye brow high on her face and a tone that says I better get moving.

“Okay, okay.  I’m going,” I tell her with both of my hands up in a placating gesture.

           Shaking her head once again she continues on to straighten up the already tidy living room.  I move past her and out into the hall way, which is also clear on all sides.  I have lived in this house for nineteen years, so my entire life, and it still amazes me.  It is a well-built estate, almost large enough to get lost in with an endless number of nooks and crannies to explore.  Most of the walls are made of a durable thick glass so that the ocean can be seen from any room.  The walls that are not are painted a warm sandy brown, that along with the earth toned furniture helps create a cozy feeling.  At least that is how my dad describes it.   The long hallway I am taking to the kitchen has small round lights hanging from the ceiling that project bright circles onto floor.  A memory of me attempting to hop from one circle to the next without touching the unlit ground bubbles up in my mind and brings a small, personal smile to my lips.

           When I round the corner into the kitchen I see my mom with her face inches away from a pot on the stove.  The image strikes me as odd because, when Dreya does not prepare our dinner, my dad is the cook of the family.  My mom has tried to put a meal together on rare occasions but they, more often than not, end poorly.  I walk further into the room, peering around her shoulder to get a look at what she’s doing.

           “Please don’t tell me you’re the one cooking dinner tonight,” I joke.

           “Well Dreya will be leaving soon and your Dad is working late so it’s eat my food or you’re on your own,” Mom says, turning to look at me with a frown on her face but barely hidden amusement in her eyes.

Just as I am about to hell her I’ll take my chances and find something else, I notice the tiny droplets of sweat dotting her hairline.  I know the effort it requires for her to cook and I would feel guilty for ages if I didn’t even try to eat a bowl of whatever it is she has tried to make.  Letting out a quiet sigh, I slide on to a tall metal stool that sits behind our raised black top counter.  Mom pulls a bowl out of the cabinet and fills it halfway with some red concoction.  The way it plops into the dish is not comforting. She slides the bowl across the counter, giving me an expectant look. I hope my stomach will forgive me later for this.

“What is it?”

“It’s spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti?” I take my fork from the side of the bowl and poke at the congealed mass I assume to be noodles covered in sauce.  I think I may need a knife.

“Are you sure?”

“Lotus,” exasperation is clear in her tone. “Are you going to try it or not?”

Rolling my eyes, I gather my courage and inhale the steam wafting up from bowl.  It actually smells pretty good, like fresh tomato and basil with an underlying note of something sappy sweet.  After a few sawing motions of my fork, I am able to separate enough noodles for a decent mouthful.  I mop up the sauce on the edges before shoving an entire forkful in my mouth.  Despite its appearance the spaghetti isn’t half bad. I have definitely had better, but the sauce coating my every taste bud is flavorful and make the task finishing the rest of it less daunting.  I go in for the second bite and watch as mom’s eyebrows rise up high on her face. I shrug my shoulders, feigning that her making something even close to edible isn’t a big deal. “This is so much better than usual.  Have you been practicing?”

A small smile that shows none of the thrilled surprise I was expecting to find flits across her face.  Studying her across the counter up close like this reminds me of how much I look like her. We have the same rich, brown skin and tightly coiled dark hair resting on our shoulders.  We both stand taller than most other women but somehow aren’t lanky and have cheekbones that sit high on our faces.  We even have the same skinny nose, with slightly too large nostrils. The most obvious trait that we do not share are our eyes.  Where hers are a sunny hazel, mine are a warm deep brown, much like my fathers.

I continue to eat, lost in my own observations until I remember she never answered my question. I look up from my almost empty bowl.

“Well, have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Been practicing how to cook”

“Something like that.”

I slowly finish chewing the food in my mouth, and an uneasy feeling rises in my chest. She is wearing the expression she wears when we are in one of our training sessions.  Where she pushes me to my limits in all ways again and again until I prove to her, and myself, that I can keep going.  They have taken place since I could first stand on my own two feet.  She has never told me what exactly it was we were training for, personally I think it’s some unbidden fear about me being taken away from her or not being able to protect myself, but whenever she calls me to a session I go.  We have had peace here in our community under the waves since the beginning, and yet I still go to make my mother happy.

 Right now, my mom is watching me closely.  Too closely.  Like she is waiting for something to happen.  “Lotus, how many times do I have to say you must be vigilant at all times?” The disapproval in her voice is such stark difference from the lighthearted conversation we were having earlier I flinch.  The words were spoken softly but I have no idea what I did to disappoint her.

“Why exactly do I need to be vigilant? What would I be on the lookout for, nothing is going to happen.”  I can hear the attitude entering my voice, but can’t reel it in, “Nothing ever happens.”

“But something could happen,” she slams her hands down on the counter. “Did you ever consider that?”  My mom is breathing hard and drops of spit splatter the countertop from when they flew angrily from her lips.

I forcefully shove another bite of food in my mouth but this time the cloyingly sweet smell of it makes me gag and I spit it out back into the dish. Dread fills my veins and I close my eyes against my own stupidity.  Arcentia. She poisoned my food with Arcentia, a poison developed by scientist in the underwater labs known for causing people’s stomach lining to thin until the gaseous acid spills out and ruins the rest of the organs.  It is a painful way to go.  I raise my eyes to meet my mothers, “Why,” I ask on breath.

Without warning a terrible cramp seizes my belly and I double over at the sharp pain.  Another one follows quick after the first and I fall off of my stool and crash to the ground, curling my knees into my chest to ease the ache.  It doesn’t help.  My heart is beating so hard in my chest that, for a movement, I picture it breaking through my ribs and dropping onto the kitchen floor.  My blood rushing out in a whoosh and leaving me completely empty on the ground.  Through the tears in my eyes, I see my mom drop a clear vial with a milky brown substance inside several feet away from me. Then she walks over to where I am writhing in pain and looks down her nose at me, disappointment that I didn’t detect the poison immediately obvious in her face. My heart is beating so fast and so loud that I almost can’t hear my mom’s voice over the thumping in my ears.  

“In that vial is the antidote.  I would recommend you take it within the next three minutes before there is any irreversible damage.”  

With that she steps over my body and makes her way to the exit.  Before she is completely out of sight, she turns back and says “I did this because you never know what will happen.  You know what my job is Lotus and I have access to information that you do not.”  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, casual as if we are having normal conversation. “I love you, you are my only daughter.  However, you must always remember to watch your own back and stay ready,” she finishes before leaving the room entirely.

Spittle is now leaking from the corners of my mouth and rolling down onto my neck.  I try to gather my thoughts.  All I need to do is crawl over to the antidote and everything will be okay.  I gather all of my energy and roll over onto my hands and knees.  The inside of my stomach feels as though I swallowed an open flame and is being scorched from the inside out.  I throw my body forward, hoping the momentum will take me more than halfway to the cure and it does.

My breathing is shallow, and I count every inhale to keep my mind focused on what I need to.  I lurch forward once again, getting close enough that when I fully extend my arm I can reach the vial with my fingertips.   My hands are shaking from the tight pain in my gut and it takes me more tries than I would have liked to grasp the vial and bring it close to me. I rip of the top and let it fall to the ground as I greedily chug the antidote.  It tastes like burnt hair and sand, but I don’t care.  It’s the best thing I have ever tasted.  After tipping back every single drop I fall back onto the ground, the pain in my stomach not yet subsiding, and succumb to the pain, letting the darkness fall over me.

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 8/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody RATING: T (so far) NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

     You ducked into your own room and to your bathroom to wash your face and run a brush through your hair before you tied it out of your way, not feeling like dealing with it anymore. You checked your tank top and realized you’d gotten blood on it when Thor had distracted you, so you stripped it off and threw a t-shirt on instead. You spent the time trying to convince yourself that things would be ok. They wouldn’t think you a monster if you were careful to stick to animal blood. Thor would forgive you. You just had to be more careful. And not listen to silver-tongued gods.

    A minute later, you stepped into the hallway to find both Asgardians waiting for you. Loki was dressed again, but you could see the bite mark on his neck, his shirt wasn’t high enough to cover it, since like most normal people he wasn’t wearing a turtleneck. You rushed over to him and reached up a hand to touch it. The wound was closed, not bleeding anymore since you’d sealed it before Thor had tackled you, but it was still angry and obvious. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It doesn’t hurt,” he told you warmly and leaned down to kiss you.

    “But-”

    He pressed a finger to your lips. “No buts. I told you I was ok with it, and I’m not changing my mind on that. My idiot brother hurting your feelings doesn’t change anything except how many daggers he currently has sticking out of his body,” you glanced at Thor who currently had zero daggers sticking out of his body. That seemed impressive, considering Loki’s track record on stabbing his brother. Loki caught your glance. “We came to an agreement. This time,”

    “Do I even want to know?” you asked the silly trickster warily. His arrangements could be… creative and not in a good way.

    “Probably not,” he admitted and took your hand.

    You reached your free hand back up to his neck. “I can put an illusion over that-” you started.

    He laughed aloud, and loudly, thouroughly amused by that suggestions. “Darling, if I cared at all about who saw it, I could place the illusion myself,” he told you, still laughing. That was a fair point. Illusions were one of his specialities.

    “At least let me heal it better? I was kinda rushed for time…”

    He huffed. “It’s fine, sweetheart, stop fretting over me,” he told you, then sighed. “At least you’re feeling better,” he added warmly, assuming correctly that if you were up to fretting this much over him that you were doing better after the blood donation.

    “Come along, children, it’s time for dinner,” Thor reminded you kindly. Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. You flushed, unsure of Thor after his hurtful words, hell, unsure of yourself after his hurtful words.

    “We aren’t children, oaf,” he replied grumpily.

    Thor looked you over and had a sad look on his face. “What’s wrong?” you asked, concerned for the sad-puppy-dog look.

    “Your throat. Lady, I-” he started to apologize.

    He was being unhelpful and spluttering, so you looked at Loki. “What’s he talking about?” you asked him instead.

    Loki laughed. “Do you not own a mirror?” he teased.

    You glared. “I got out of the habit of looking in them over the last four years. The old vampires banned them from the lair,” you reminded him sourly. “Is he calling me ugly, because even I’ll kick his ass for that. Or let you stab him,” you corrected. Loki chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

    “Easy, pixie,” he teased. You’d made him watch the Tinkerbell movie when Tony wouldn’t stop calling you that. He’d wanted to understand the nickname. Loki had decided he liked it too, but wouldn’t use the same nickname, so you were occasionally ‘pixie’ especially when someone actually got you riled. “You have a massive purple bruise on your neck from my idiot brother holding you against the wall by it,” he explained before you could stomp off to go find a mirror. A little hand-mirror appeared in Loki’s hand and he handed it to you so you could look. There was a large purple hand-shaped bruise around your neck. Great.

    Thor babbled off more apologies. “Don’t worry, Thor. It’ll heal by tomorrow,” you told him, cutting off the babbles of apologies. “C’mon boys, you both get cranky when you’re hungry,” you took Loki’s hand and reached to grab Thor’s wrist to haul them both to the elevator and dinner, but stopped, unsure. He had been so enraged. He saw your hesitation, though, saw your uncertainty, and you saw his face fall again that his harsh words had cut so deeply. You tentatively grabbed his wrist, timid, shy, but he didn’t pull away or yell, in fact, they both relaxed and laughed at the tiny pixie of a vampire dragging their god-like-asses to dinner. You dropped Thor’s wrist in the elevator, but kept hold of Loki’s hand and the three of you walked together to the dining room.

    “Took you long enough, Point Break,” Tony teased. Natasha was bringing in a pot of some Russian dish for dinner. Thor took his place and Loki pulled your chair out for you and kissed your cheek when you were seated. “Tinkerbell, I know you’re just a kid, but that’s not the proper way to ‘neck’ boyfriend,” Tony teased you too when he saw the bite mark on Loki’s neck. You flushed and stared down at your plate while you tried to think of a witty comeback or anything to say that would make you appear like anything other than a monster, but it was hard when you knew you shouldn’t have bitten Loki…

    “Ooh, so you two are finally official then?” Nat jumped in to the embarrassing, catching your expression. Her question was happy and excited, she liked you and wanted you happy. Clint was applauding the development too. You flushed even redder and nodded.

    “Stark, you’re being an ass,” Loki informed Tony calmly. “My lady was weakened by walking through the noon sun to meet the sorcerer on the team’s request. The least I could do was make sure she recovered quickly from it,”

    “I thought-” Cap started, obviously on a line of how you didn’t eat people and survived on animal blood.

    “Enough,” Thor protested firmly before anyone else got started on this. “We have all the explanation we need. Lady Y/N was wounded on a mission for us. Asgardian blood restored her faster than animal would have. No one was hurt and nothing has changed,”

    Ah, that was the arrangement. Loki got Thor to agree to stick up for you in exchange for not getting stabbed. The team would agree with Thor faster than they’d agree with Loki. It didn’t change that you were a monster.

    “And how exactly did you get that hand-shaped wound on your neck?” Clint demanded, glaring at Loki. He was overprotective of you since you’d saved his life. He’d taken a liking to you after that, vampire or no.

    “It wasn’t Loki!” you told him quickly. “I swear!” you added before he could try to say you were lying to defend your new boyfriend. You weren’t inclined to tell him what really happened, though. The team kept glaring, demanding an answer.

    “There was a misunderstanding…” Thor started. “I thought she was harming Loki when…” he gestured to the mark on Loki’s neck and you stared down at your plate again, tears in your eyes.

    “I shouldn’t have-” you started to apologize again.

    “Please stop apologizing just because my idiot brother said some stupid hurtful things. You’re not a monster. I consented and practically made you take my blood so you would recover. You haven’t hurt me, or anyone here. I care for you sweetheart, as do the others…admittedly,” Loki said, adding the last with a hint of a smirk. He kissed your cheek. “So please don’t cry. I’d hate to have to kill Thor. Mother would be so upset,” you laughed a little at that. Nat and Clint both threw dinner rolls at Thor and called him a stupid oaf.

    “So how did the meeting with the sorcerer go?” Cap asked while he dodged more dinner rolls being thrown over his head.

    “He said we can count him as an ally,” you started and explained your meeting with the sorcerer and how you and Loki were allowed to visit to use his shiny magic books to study from. Loki looked sheepish. “Is that clone of yours still there?” you asked accusingly. He tried to look innocent.

    “There is a man named Wong who is currently quite annoyed that I am there sitting on his desk reading,” Loki replied with a smirk. You laughed at that image and the atmosphere finally cleared and lightened.

    *

    “Tinkerbell, can you get Point Break? I need to move this suit,” Tony asked later when you were working together on a suit in the lab.

    You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Where do you want it?” you asked. He gestured to the empty table, obviously thinking you were going to get Thor and give him directions. Instead, you lifted the suit yourself and placed it on the table while he stared.

    “Vampire,” you reminded him.

    “But you’re so little,” he protested. You shrugged and went back to the designs you’d been working on, hopping up on one of the tables to sit and work on about three different screens suspended in the air in front of you.

    “Vampires have superhuman strength,” you reminded him as you worked.

    He nodded and then seemed to remember something. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. There’s a press conference tomorrow night to announce Reindeer Games as part of the team. Don’t worry, we’re not announcing you as part of the team too, though you are, we know you’re not a fighter,” he added quickly at your concern. “We think it’d be a good idea for you to be there though. You have a great effect on Loki’s temper. And of course he wants to show off his girlfriend,” he teased a little. You stuck your tongue out at him. “Also, if you want it, there’s a job waiting for you at Stark Industries. We always need help in the labs and R&D. And no one cares if you want to work in the middle of the night. Hell, I’ve been there at 3am already…”

    “That sounds wonderful!” You told him. It was one of your options for after graduation to begin with. Your future hadn’t been decided, but working at Stark Industries had been one of your ideal jobs. “Wait! Does that mean I’m off house-arrest?” you asked him. He smirked.

    “You and boyfriend both,” he replied.

    “How long are you going to tease about us dating?” you grumped as you returned your attention to the screens in front of you.

    “Until it stops being funny. Blueberry?” he asked, holding the packet out to you. You took one and popped it in your mouth.

    *

    You smirked at Tony passed out over one of the work tables at 3am and lifted him over your shoulder. He didn’t stir even as you carried him from the lab. “Jarvis, lock up?” you asked as you left.

    “Yes, Miss,” the AI replied.

    You carried the unconscious Tony over your shoulder all the way up to the penthouse floor where he and Pepper lived. You knocked on the door and Pepper opened it in her pajamas. “I think this belongs to you,” you told her, indicating the unconscious Tony over your shoulder.

    She smiled brightly and stepped back from the door, opening it wider. “Yes, it does. Can you put him on the bed? He’s hard for me to handle when he’s in that state,” she admitted, gesturing to the Tony draped over your shoulder. You were way more effective at carrying him than she was.

    You hesitated. “Um… I would, but… I need a bit more of an invitation…” you admitted softly. “I can call one of the boys up to help with Tony, instead,” you offered quickly, flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t enter without an invitation and you didn’t blame her if she didn’t want to invite you in. Stupid vampire rules.

    “Nonsense, I just didn’t know. Come in,” she told you kindly. You stepped over the threshold and followed Pepper to the bed where she wanted Tony. You dumped him on the bed. “He was so happy to find out you weren’t dead. Most people wouldn’t believe it of him, but he had actually kept track of your academic career. He said you were one of the brightest minds to cross his path in years and he took your death hard,”

    “I didn’t know he was keeping track besides your paying my tuition,” you admitted. You’d only seen him the once when he had officially given you the scholarship, and you knew Pepper paid the bills because that’s what she did.

    “There’s not many 14 year olds who apply for the Dreamer’s Scholarship,” she reminded you kindly. You smiled, remembering Tony’s shocked confused expression. He’d read your application obviously, but still hadn’t seemed to want to believe. “He was curious to see what you would make of yourself with that big brain of yours. Are you going to come work at Stark Industries? Tony said he was going to ask you,” she added at your shocked expression.

    You nodded. “I am, though not tomorrow night because of the press conference,”

    “I look forward to seeing you there. Thanks for bringing him home,” she told you warmly. You nodded and said goodbye so she could get back to sleep.

    You wandered back to the main floor and found Loki on your usual couch with a book. “Why are you still awake?” you asked him by way of greeting. It was late. Everyone besides the vampire should be asleep. He smiled warmly at you.

    “I took a nap while you were playing in the lab with Stark,” he admitted and stood to kiss you. “Come with me, I wanted to show you something,” he told you with a grin and took your hand to lead you to the elevator.

    “What are you up to, silly trickster?” you asked with a giggle.

    “You’ll see,” he told you with a smile as you rode up to the roof of the tower at 3am. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. He was adorable with his little surprise. He took your hand and dragged you out of the elevator like an excited child and you couldn’t help being happy with his infectious joy.

    He led you to the middle of the roof/launch pad where a picnic blanket had been set out. There were candles around it, both on the ground and floating in the air as well as a picnic basket, two glasses of wine and a couple pillows and blankets. “Surprise!” he told you warmly.

    “Loki, it’s wonderful,” you told him. He summoned a zippered hoodie and draped it over your shoulders after you had sat down for your surprise picnic. You looked up at him confused, but pleased by his gallant action.

    “It’s chilly out here,” he explained as you slipped the hoodie on. “The chill doesn’t bother me, perks of being a frost giant,” he added before you could question why he was out here in short sleeves.

    Your picnic was nothing but desserts, but that just made it all the more perfect, sitting under the stars and the full moon, chatting with Loki over deserts and wine. Your wine was spiked, and though you didn’t need the extra blood after having Loki’s earlier, it was still thoughtful of him. You talked for a long time, just enjoying his company and the impromptu surprise picnic. He laid back on the blanket one of the pillows under his head and you laid your head on him as you joined him. He pulled one of the blankets up around you. His fingers ran through your hair as you watched the stars and planes across the night sky.

    You sat up just before dawn. Loki had fallen asleep and was adorable and peaceful. You stroked his long hair and he smiled, automatically cuddling better with you. “Wake up, Loki,” you told him softly and kissed him. You didn’t want to wake him, but it was nearly dawn and you needed to get back inside, or at least under cover.

    “Hmm?” he asked softly.

    “I know it’s early, but you need to wake up,” you told him gently and kissed him again.

    His eyes finally opened and he actually looked a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he told you quickly. You smiled and kissed him yet again.

    “It’s alright. I fall asleep on you often enough,” you reminded him, teasing. He smiled at that. “I wouldn’t have woken you, but it’s almost dawn…”

    “Of course,” he agreed automatically, understanding that vampires shouldn’t play with the sun.

    “We can still watch the sunrise,” you told him quickly as you both stood and he used magic to clear your picnic. “Just from over there,” you pointed to the awning next to the entrance back into the tower. There would be enough cover until you could duck back inside.

    “Are you sure? We can go inside,” Loki reminded you, worried. You stood up on your toes to kiss him.

    “It’ll be fine. There’s enough coverage,” you reassured him. “I’ve watched the sunrise quite a few mornings,” you added at his concern. You took his hand and led him over to the awning. You stood there with his arm around your shoulders, watching the beautiful sunrise. “It’s beautiful,” you told him as you watched the sky change colors.

    “Yes, my darling, you are,” Loki told you warmly. You looked up at him and saw that he had been watching your joy at the gorgeous view of the sun rising over the city. He leaned down to kiss you in the growing light. You shut your eyes when the light got too bright and hid your face against Loki’s chest. “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he told you gently, his arm around you to lead you back inside.

    “Thank you, Loki. This was perfect,” you told him, not having the words for just how adorable and perfect your impromptu picnic date had been.

    “It was a wonderful evening indeed, sweetheart,”

    Loki kissed you again when you were safely inside, still bathed in the light of the sun coming through the big windows, but able to open your eyes again since all the windows in the tower had been replaced. It was perfect indeed.

[kusunogatari-a]

oh oh oh okay so how about, Ryuu catching Shisui and Rin being cuddly goofs? >>>

[ Nap Time ][ @noharin ][ Nohara Rin, Uchiha Shisui, Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Mikoto II, Uchiha Fugaku II ][ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ]

“So is there a reasonyou’re so warm? And is it really,you know…an Uchiha thing?”

Shisui snorts, eyes closed.“S'pose it’s just how hotI am,” he mumbles in a joke, too sleepy to do much else. “Y'knowUchiha are so full of hot air– is it really that surprising…?”

Rin unleashes a giggle, her chestvibrating against Shisui’s. They’ve perched upon a couch…thoughit’s less of a perch, and more of a lay. The Uchiha is currentlypinned against the cushions, the tiny medic weighing him down. Itwouldn’t take much to move her, but…he’s far from motivated to doso.

Instead, he pretends she’s ahuman-shaped blanket, one arm slung up over the dip of her back asthe other hangs lazily over the edge of the couch to brush the floor.

“You’re so ridiculous,” sheeventually manages to say, form still jumping slightly as shecontinues to laugh.

“Hey, you asked, and Ianswered. I dunno what else to tell you.”

She turns her cheek from hischest long enough to give him a look conveying just how doneshe is with him…but she can’t hold a smile back for long. “Youand Obito are the only Uchiha I’ve ever met with a sense of humor. Nooffense to anyone else, of course…but they all seemed so…stoic.”

“Another typical Uchiha trait.But a few of us have to be around to break the awkward silences.”

Rin sits up against him slightly,one arm across his chest and her other elbow propping up her chin.Her expression is soft with contentment, lips upturned in humor.“Well…it’s a nice change of pace. Sasuke’s such a stickin the mud…”

“Well, he’s sorta got reasonsto be, to be fair.”

“Mm…and you’d think dyingonce would have let Itachi liven upa little.”

“…did you just…?”

Shisui cuts off as Rin laughs.“Was that a good one?”

“Mm…passable,” he teases, agrin on his face.

“Oh come on! I tried reallyhard with that one!”

“Hence why it’s passable –it’s gotta be natural.Be one with the pun.”

Rolling her eyes to the heavens,Rin looses a giving-up groan and resumes her prior position. “Ican’t get anywhere with you…”

“Sure you can – just gottaask nicely. But right now, I’m not going anywhere.”

Another muffled groan.

“You know you love me.”

The medic stiffens slightly, anda slightly awkward tinge blooms in the air.

“…it. You love it.”

“Oh s-shut up.”

“Hey onīchan…when are yougoing to get off my couch – literally – and find your own place,hm?”

The pair both manage to look up,seeing an amused Ryū fold her arms and look to the pair expectantly.

“Well, the housing market’s notthe best right now. And after that whole Peinthing…there’s not exactly much left of the compound, is there? Thisis the only one here, and where else is an Uchiha to go?”

“First Sasuke, now you,” theyounger medic muses, but not without a smile. “I might as well giveup and just say this is the Uchiha household for the entire clan.”With a slight wilt, she mumbles, “…not like they all can’t fit,in all honesty.”

Giving her a sheepish grin,Shisui offers, “Is my babysitting not paying the rent?”

“I think you might need to adddish-doing and floor-sweeping to make up the deficit.” Ryū winks agrey eye. “And if Rin-senpai is here any more often, I might haveto tack on a little extra, ne?”

“After all I’ve done for you,”Rin mockingly moues, lips pouting. “Such an ungrateful kōhai…whathave I ever done to deserve such treatment…?”

Ryū rolls her eyes. “Pleasedon’t tell me his sense of humor’s rubbing off on you. Dealing withhim is headache enough.”

“Can’t handle double thetrouble?”

“Don’t make me sic the toddlerson you.”

“Ooh, toddlers are good!”

Shisui groans at Rin’senthusiasm. Apparently private cuddle time is over…but he can’texpect too much in his sister’s house. “Speaking of doubletrouble…”

“You know they love aunty Rinand uncle ‘sui,” Ryū teases, a grin on her face. “Besides, I’monly back briefly – gotta head back out, and they’re due up fromtheir nap. Remember: babysitting equals rent, hm?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Shisui sitsup and rubs at his face, Rin already fleeing to fuss over youngsters.

“Ever thought about asking Rinto stay at her place?”

He chokes. “W-what?”

“I mean you two were tangledlike ramen noodles when I got here,” his sister teases, obviouslyrelishing at having the upper hand for once. “And I’m sure hercharges for rent wouldn’t be something you’d be so adverseto, hm…?”

The Uchiha’s face goes ruddy, onehand cupped over his chin and lips. “Ah, shuddit.”

“Just a suggestion,” shesingsongs, glancing to Rin – who has a toddler around each leg.

“Help! I’ve been ambushed!”

“Your backup’s still on thecouch,” Ryū replies, making her way toward the door. “Try not tobring the house down, ne?”

“I make no promises,” Shisuipouts, grunting as his niece clambers up onto his lap.

“Shiwi! M'hungry!” the brashtoddler demands, palms thumping against his chest. Expectant silvereyes look up at him grumpily.

Rin grins, the quieter twin heldup against her hip with a thumb in his mouth. “I think nap time’sover for everyone.”

“So I noticed.”

     ;3c two cuddly goofs, comin’ right up! Set this a ways into the verse so Shisui actually had functioning eyeballs, lol, and so Rin could have an Itachi to gripe about. Also toddler twins, since they’re only about a year old when he comes back.      So since the Uchiha district, at the point of Pein’s invasion, is only inhabited by Ryū, the compound’s left empty after the rebuild save for a new manor house. Since, y’know, there’s no one else there to rebuild for. And since there’s a LOT of missing buildings, it had a bit of extra effort put into it to make up for that. And also since Yamato, at that point, is in on the fact that she’s preggo with wee Uchiha. Which makes her the guardian of the only Uchiha left in the village at that time, hence giving them  a ‘proper’ home. I could go on buuut there’s a lot of background info and I’d bore you to tears. I just need to finish that fic that no one will read lolol     Exposition, woo .w.      BUT YEAH, always feel free to throw more ideas at me because these are fun :3c Also I need more ShiRin in my life lolol     Now to go add this to my verse page xD