#unless I actually. against all probability. broke my own nose through the sheer force of my stress tension.

[peanutbutterfiles]

wtf is there something between my eye and my nose?? why does it feel like something is in my face??

[serenephenix]

Rising Tide - Part 1/2

No one touches Pidge. No one.

Also sorry for the quality but my brain is fried but unable to shut down

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Rising Tide

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Teen Audience/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Sickfic, Team as Family

[Word count]:  2.000

[Warning]: canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of violence

[Status]: wip

Big thanks to @taylor-tut for letting me play around with another prompt 1 & 2

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The situation was hopeless.

And he wasn’t even exaggerating on this one. Lance meant it. Unless there was some sort of miracle happening, there was no way that they would escape their impending imprisonment or worse… deaths.

He felt the press of the still hot muzzle of a gun against the very base of his skull. The metal had even burned him, him letting out a scream because of it: a scream that got stuck in his throat when a Galra kicked him in his stomach to silence him.

Pidge had struggled, cursed even as Lance did everything in his power not to keel over, to regain his bearings and his breath.

They looked terrified, moisture clinging to the Green Paladin’s lashes but not enough to spill and fall and the sight made something clench painfully in his aching gut.

Lance tried to remember when exactly this mission had turned south and found he couldn’t tell what it was that had led to him and Pidge kneeling on the sand of a beach that looked like it was made of diamond dust, cyan waters and waves lapping at the shore and the tip of Lance’s shoes.

It was reckon mission. Take Green, hop out, do some scans, do some foraging, hop back on and be back to the Castle by dinner. Well, that sure had turned out the way they had planned. Because none of the scans had spoken of a base, hidden under the planet’s crust but the simple fact that they were now at the mercy of their enemy was proof enough that either someone had been sloppy about the scans or that their equipment really was far too outdated.

Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was to find a solution to this before it was too late.

He mustered a glare at the Galra, this one looking like he actually belonged into water with his webbed fingers and skin that had a slimy sheen to it. His bulging, yellow eyes were studying them with contempt as he paced in front of them.

Finally, he came to stand still, cocking his head to the side before a nasty smile revealed two rows of sharp, pointy teeth. They reminded Lance far too much of a shark’s.

“Never would I have believed that the Paladins of Voltron would so willingly offer themselves to the empire. Lord Zarkon shall be most pleased.”

He circled them like a predator, gauging their reactions. As Lance chanced a glance at Pidge from the corner of his eyes, he realized just how incredibly brave they were – there was no submission, no fear, just sheer teenage stubbornness jammed into a small frame filled to the brim with pure defiance and anger.

The sight itself gave Lance some of his own confidence back.

But they needed a plan. They needed help. Too bad the Galra had not dumb enough to let them keep their helmets and thus their only link back to the Castle of Lions. So, contacting the others was no option.

Green was on the other side of the island they had landed on. An island that was nothing but cold, dead rock; miles of it actually that they had yet to properly explore when one of them had stepped onto a device hidden in the sand, slamming them into the ground as though the planet’s gravity had increased tenfold in this particular spot.

Lance wondered if Pidge had any idea what exactly it was that had held them down until a sort of hatch had opened not too far from them from where a handful of drones and what seemed to be a high ranking officer had poured out no sooner had they been incapacitated.

The Galra came to stand before Pidge, frowning down at them, displeased at the lack of fear in his presence.

It made ice shoot through Lance’s veins, his nerves alight with apprehension.

He wished Blue were here, his Lion, suited for the waters, stronger than ever when around her element. He wished they had visuals on a white spaceship in the planet’s atmosphere.

He wished he could make his own mind slow down, make himself forget about the sharp metal still digging into the skin of his wrists and into his neck. Wished he calm his frantic heartbeat when the Galra’s expression took on something icy as he continued glaring at Pidge who remained firm and unwavering.

Before Lance had a chance to blink, the Galra’s fist came down and Pidge’s head whipped to the side as they gasped both from shock and the force of the impact.

Lance screamed, feet under him getting into position to bolt and tackle that bastard even with his hands bound, but the drone at his back had him pinned down in a tick, pushing Lance into the ground.

He caught sight of Pidge’s face, the skin on their cheekbone bloody with a bruise already forming, their whole face scrunched up in pain. Despite sitting crookedly, those glasses still were there, the side of it digging into his friend’s temple.

Lance struggled against his captors, snarling at the Garla staring down at the Green Paladin from the tip of his pretty much none-existent nose, only giving Lance any kind of attention when he yelled.

“Why you! You scumbag!”

His outburst left their captor unimpressed.

“I dislike people not showing me the proper amount of respect.”

He said it casually as he flicked away some dirt he had picked at under his nail. He turned back to Pidge.

“And I will not tolerate it while I keep you here until Lord Zarkon arrives.”

His hand reached for the smaller Paladin and Lance could tell from its path that he was going for the hair, that he was going to grab them by it and drag the cuffed Paladin by it. And judging by Pidge’s expression, they were aware of that as well.

He wished Green would come for them like Red did for Keith, even though the smaller Lion was out of its element on this stupid planet.

If it were Blue, they could use it to their advantage.

But Blue was in her hangar, almost on the other side of this stupid planet, probably unaware of the danger they were in, unaware of the danger that was to come if this Galra did call upon Zarkon. And when he came, warping to their location, there would be no Voltron to hold him off and the universe would be doomed.

His chest felt too small for the sudden flood of emotions choking him, the sudden realization how fast everything could go terribly, horribly wrong and he found himself instinctively reaching out to that corner of his mind that had never been vacant ever since that barrier dissolved in an underground cave.

“Blue!”

It was a slim chance, nothing more but a desperate wish, a faint hope that maybe their bond was strong enough for them to overcome thousands of miles. There was a faint stir in their shared mindspace, a slight disturbance but Lance latched onto it like a drowning man onto a lifeline.

There was a sharp cry and Lance’s concentration was shortly broken as he saw Pidge hanging from the Galra’s grasp, clawed hand fisted into their hair and holding their weight up so that they could not brace some of it on their knees or feet.

Tears of pain were running down their face in earnest, breath hitching and eyes screwed shut.

Lance could feel his own breath speeding up, could feel his heart beat into overdrive at the sight. This wasn’t happening.

“Let them go!”

It had not the desired effect, his voice breaking mid-shout, too high pitched and afraid to ever be taken seriously. There was something in his brain shifting and stirring, Blue perhaps, but his undivided attention rested on the individual in front of him, that malicious grin foreboding.

The Galra’s other hand went up to go around Pidge’s throat, not yet squeezing, not even brushing but the promise, the threat of it, hung in the air. Pidge’s whimper was like a bullet to the chest.

And Lance could feel panic rise inside of him, a panic he registered could not be entirely his own in its overwhelming intensity, swelling and twisting and clashing and -

It became more.

It was rising still.

Ever stronger, surging like the waters of a river after torrents of rain, cascading and flowing, sweeping away all and everything in its path.

It was the crushing force of ice, growing to be mountains, pulverizing that which stood in its way as it pushed ever onward.

It was like the untamable force of the depths, overwhelming and dark and ominous and old, swallowing all and any foolish enough to venture this far.

It was at the tips of their fingers, lapped at their feet, filled their lungs, heart and minds.

It lashed out and cut.

It whipped and broke.

It pierced and burned.

It cleared the path.

It calmed and soothed, washing over the hurt, cool and fluid, coiling and protecting.

It-

“Lance!”

Lance felt himself falling forward, limp and shivering, as though he’d been hit by a blizzard with no shelter.

He hit the sand with a wet splash, cyan water filling up his mouth and nose and Lance was entirely too powerless to stop it, realizing in a distant sort of way that he couldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch, could not get his mouth to close.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, heaved him up just far enough for him to topple onto his back to stare at a sky that was growing a dark indigo. A sky he could no longer see as Pidge’s face bent over him.

Their eyes were huge behind the spectacles, filled with a feverish panic and hesitancy Lance had never seen there before. Why did they look scared? He did not want them to be scared.

He wanted to joke, to smile, to raise his hand so he could give a hug or pat them on the back reassuringly, wanted to move his lips so he could form the words for a teasing question. But nothing worked.

He was paralyzed and the realization did not scare him as much as it should in the same manner it seemed to scare his friend.

He was aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to get air into his lungs, oversensitive skin irritated by the way the wet suit clung to him uncomfortably.

Was that why he was so cold, why he was shivering so hard?

There was the sound of a slap and it took him a moment to register that one of his cheeks was stinging with tiny needle pinpricks, for his brain to make a connection between the sensation and Pidge’s hand hovering close to his face.

Their mouth was moving and there was sound, sound that Lance could not comprehend, far too quick and garbled like with a badly tuned radio.

Fingers tangled in his hair, lifting his head while others found their way beneath his chin, pressing into soft and giving flesh. Looking for his pulse point.

Lance’s eyes rolled to stare at Pidge directly, willing them to look him in the eye as their own chest seemed to move frantically, too fast, too ragged.

They caught the movement of his unfocused eyes and stared long and hard, their hands remaining on him, Lance only being able to tell because of their warmth seeping into his numb skin.

His eyes lost focus once, twice, each feeling like it was actually being pulled from its socket as he fought against a pull he could not name and the sudden realization that he was going to faint struck him like lightning just as he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, felt his shaking limbs go loose.

And at the back of his mind, he felt the soothing pull towards his Lion’s presence, curling around him as if he were her cub, smothering him in warmth he did not know where it had disappeared to in the first place.

[theshatteredrose]

The Highlander (Guardian Chronicles) - EOU2

Summary: Since meeting the Guardian Guild, Flavio has met some interesting characters. This highlander, however, was just a little too…forward for him.

AN: Time to introduce some new Guardian members :3

Flavio leaned back in his chair and looked down at his hands folded in his lap. The other members of his guild, plus Regina, sat silently at the table they had gathered around. The silence was uncomfortable, but it was understandable.

He had just finished telling them what he had learnt from the Guardians’ leader, Hamza. About how many of the locals and explorers alike seemed to resent the existence of the restaurant. About how he was cornered by a group of disgruntled locals. And, in hindsight, how said locals looked malnourished and pale, unlikely to be able to do anything physical to him anyway.

Fafnir, of course, bristled protectively during that last part, but said nothing. Hopefully he wasn’t plotting revenge or something. Like, of course not. He wouldn’t do that, right?

In any case, Flavio had decided not to mention the suggestion that Hamza had offered him. Not yet. He wasn’t sure that was even possible. And would the people of Lagaard actually want it from them? Would they think it was just pity money or an attempt to win praise and popularity?

A business wasn’t a business unless it was making money. And a business couldn’t make money without customers. And the customers needed a reason to visit said business to spend their hard earned money.

It was just so…depressing. Flavio had no idea that running a restaurant would be so much hard work emotionally and mentally.

Everyone was pulled from their silent musings when the door to the restaurant swung open almost violently, sending the sign that said ‘sorry, we’re closed’ flailing about from the force.

Startled greatly, Flavio jumped in his seat before he spun around to look. He managed to catch a glimpse of a very tall blond-haired man. He had to be over six-feet tall and carried a spear that was as longer than he was tall. His long blond haired reached past his shoulders, a few shorter strands curtaining over his face with two braids on either side.

He appeared to be a highlander, one of a small handful that was seen around town. However, Flavio hadn’t seen this particular man before. And by the reactions of his teammates - tense and wary - they hadn’t seen him either.

“Awight, I’m looking for the laddie they call Flavio!” the man unexpectedly bellowed with a foreign dialect, causing Flavio to jump in his seat again, surprised by how loud his voice was. It practically made the windows rattle!

“Ah, th-that’s me?” Flavio found himself stuttering in response, somewhat fearful by why the loud man was looking for him and what he could want from him.

Surprisingly, a wide and friendly grin appeared on the tall man’s face and he strode fearlessly over to them. “There yer are laddie,” he said before he shoved rolled up papers toward him. “Got yer a gift from Lynnie-boy.”

“Lynnie?” Flavio mumbled dumbly as his automatically grabbed at whatever the other man was giving to him. He glanced down and quickly unfurled the roll, immediately noticing that the words and format they were written in was familiar.

Recipes? Oh, Auspice’s recipes!

“Ah, well, th-thank you,” Flavio said as he looked back up at the towering man, feeling intensely uneasy by how…intensely the highlander was looking at him.

“Well, ain’t yer a skinny little runt?” the man abruptly (and rudely, in Flavio’s opinion) commented with a wide grin of pure amusement. “Aye, yer do have the cheeks of a chipmunk!”

Flavio immediately bristled wildly and unintentionally crumpled up the recipes in his hands as he glared at the tall highlander. “Did you just call me-?”

Flavio was abruptly silenced when the man lifted his hands and…poked Flavio’s cheeks with his index fingers, causing Flavio’s lips to form a pout. “W-what are you-?”

The man continued to poke Flavio’s cheeks a few times before unexpectedly pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers. “They’re the pudgiest thing about yer.”

“My cheeks aren’t pudgy!” Flavio tried to glare at the infuriating man, but it was difficult when someone was painfully pulling at your cheeks.

In fact, the glare seemed to only amuse him further and he released a bellowing laugh. “Yer a spritely one, ain’t yer!”

W-who the hell was this man? And why was he being so…forward?!

“Jeez, Zeryn, you have the voice of a foghorn,” an unexpectedly familiar voice suddenly stated, causing Flavio to blink and for the blond-haired man to glance over in the direction of the entrance. “Is there no indoor volume for you?”

The highlander, who must be named Zeryn, smiled apologetically as a familiar redhead, followed by two blonds and a large white tiger, strode into the restaurant through the open front entrance.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said in a barely apologetic manner as he continued to pinch Flavio’s cheeks with his fingers. “Ain’t he a wee bit cute?”

Axel rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner and folded his arms tightly over his chest. Jhon, Tobyn, and Chi-hung lingered back, seemingly satisfied with Axel handling the situation.

“You should probably let him go,” Axel said as he indicated to their right with the tilt of his head. “If you want to keep all your teeth, that is.”

“Hm?” Zeryn blinked before turning his attention to the right side where Fafnir was standing, all but seething in his own skin. If not for Bertrand holding him back with his arms and Arianna trying to sooth him with her words, Flavio was certain that Fafnir would have launched himself at the highlander.

Honestly? Flavio wouldn’t try too hard to break up the fight if that did happen.

Zeryn, however, laughed in an obnoxiously light-hearted way. “Naw, yer mop-head, don’t go getting crabby.”

Fafnir’s eye twitched violently as Bertrand grimaced, subtly readjusting his hold on him. “What did you just call me?”

Less than intimidated, Zeryn mercifully released Flavio’s cheeks, prompting Flavio to lurch back away from him and rub at his painful cheeks. Regina and Chloe looked at him, the first with pure confusion and disgruntled disbelief, the other with idly curiosity while she continued to eat whatever meat she could get her grubby little hands on.

That jerk! That hurt. He didn’t have pudgy cheeks…And he didn’t look like a chipmunk!

“Anyway,” Zeryn said in a dismissive manner as he turned to his attention to the red-haired landsknecht. “I withstood yer punch, Reddie. I kin handle whatever he throws at me.”

Axel didn’t exactly look impressed. “Only because I wasn’t using full strength,” he retorted idly.

Having calmed down enough for Bertrand to relinquish his hold on him, the protector returning to his drink and tugging Arianna back to her seat, Fafnir also turned to the redhead. “You punched him?” he asked.

“During our first meeting,” Axel explained with a careless shrug of his shoulder. “He picked Lynus up like he was some kind of cute forest creature. Of course I punched him.”

“What would you do if I punched him?” Fafnir suddenly asked in all seriousness.

Axel gave him a look stating that he really couldn’t care less. “Give you constructive criticism on your technique?”

Zeryn was the one to actually laugh aloud at that answer. If was almost like he was looking forward to it…Highlanders, honestly.

Oh, Lynus must be Lynnie that Zeryn had mentioned earlier. But what did Axel mean by ‘picked him up’?

Flavio must have asked that aloud as Zeryn suddenly spun around to face him once more, that wide and honestly quite unnerving grin of sheer amusement on his face.

“Like this!” he said as he…grabbed Flavio around the waist and hoisted him effortlessly into the air, high off the ground!

“Wah!” Flavio immediately yelled in surprise and fear as he placed his hands on Zeryn’s arms to wiggle his way out of his grip. “P-put me down!”

“Yer squirming is cute!” Zeryn commented, completely and utterly unfazed by his attempts to escape. “And yer so light! Not as light as Lynnie, but yer close!”

“No wonder Axel punched you!” Flavio continued to flail, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do! “I’m tempted to punch you myself!”

“Naw, yer arms are too short to reach me!”

“S-shut up!”

Zeryn unexpectedly curled his fingers on his left side a little tighter to compensate for his squirming, the motion causing a light laugh to bubble up from Flavio’s throat. C-crap, he was ticklish on that side…

Unfortunately, Zeryn noticed. “Eh? Are you ticklish, Flavie?” he mercilessly asked.

Flavio broke out into a cold sweat. “N-no!”

And, equally unfortunate, Zeryn didn’t believe him. “Really?”

“P-put me down, y-you bastard!” Flavio spluttered around his laughter as Zeryn ruthlessly began to tickle him while still holding him up off the floor. “S-stop it!”

“Get ready with that constructive criticism,” he heard Fafnir snarled menacingly.   “Please, he doesn’t mean any harm,” Jhon, the blond-haired protector of the Guardians tried to pacify. “Really.”

Axel, however, sighed loudly. He had one arm across his chest as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “Zeryn, drop him,” he commanded rather calmly.

Zeryn made a noise of disappointment, but thankfully did as he was ordered and placed Flavio back on his feet. “Aw, fine.”

Flavio clutched at his stomach with one hand as he wheezed, trying to get his breathing under control as he wiped at the tears that had been pooling at the corner of his eyes. He soon found himself on the receiving end of two rather sympathetically gazes.

Jhon offered him a truly apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, now that he knows, he’ll use it against you whenever he can.”

Flavio twitched. That wasn’t a very thrilling thought…And he was so tall and strong, there was nothing he could do about it!

“He’s the complete opposite of Shen,” Tobyn, the blond-haired survivalist told him. “He’s not afraid to openly ‘praise’ whoever or whatever he finds cute.”

Honestly, he’d rather deal with the stoic ronin than Zeryn. “Should I be flattered?”

Tobyn gave him a pointed look. “Terrified.”

“Ok, good. I’m already there,” Flavio muttered as he drew in a deep breath and pulled himself into a standing position.

He glanced over at Fafnir, finding his friend speaking with Axel, the landsknecht seemingly trying to explain to Fafnir who or what Zeryn was. And Chi-hung was next to Zeryn, batting him lightly with his paw, almost as if he was telling him off. And Zeryn seemed oblivious to it all.

Either that, or he simply didn’t care.

“Friend of yours?” Flavio asked, as he turned his attention back to the two blonds.

“Teammate,” Tobyn answered sharply, sounding rather annoyed.

“One of the newest, actually,” Jhon explained with a polite smile. “He’s a friend of Hamza’s, sometimes to the man’s chagrin, and he allowed Zeryn to become a member mostly so he could keep an eye on him.”

“Someone needed to watch him,” Flavio murmured under his breath as he rubbed his cheek idly. “Say, how many members are there of your guild anyway?”

“Hm?” Jhon gave him a curious look. “Keep bumping into us?”

“Well, yeah, actually.”

Jhon chuckled softly, but sincerely before tapping his cheek in thought. “Well, there’s two more. There’s Mahogany. He’s a hexer that Lynus has stumbled across unconscious multiple times, and after learning that he suffers greatly from sudden visions, Hamza allowed him to enter our guild in hopes that Lynus could help him.”

“He still continues to scare the life out of Lynus by fainting abruptly,” Tobyn seemed unable to stop himself from adding.

Flavio immediately felt sorry for the medic. “Well, that would probably scare anyone…”

“Lastly, there’s Topaz,” Jhon continued. “He’s…a scholar interested in the myths and legends concerning relics and weapons. He’s quite knowledgeable in regards to weaponry. He’s also interested in healing, which prompted him to seek out Lynus and he became a member by default.”

Flavio tilted his head to the side in question. “A scholar?” Just a scholar? No class?

“He doesn’t want his lineage to be known,” Jhon added with a knowing smile, but unwilling to explain further.

Flavio didn’t quite understand, but, “Oh, ok.”

Tobyn suddenly nudged Jhon’s leg with his foot, drawing his attention. “We also have a member-in-rest.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Jhon said with a smile. “Cedric, the spryly troubadour. He’s a good friend of Hamza’s,” for some reason Tobyn snorted softly at that, prompting a small smile from Jhon as he continued. “And has been recovering from a debilitating illness that has lasted seven years, I’m afraid.”

“Illness?” For seven years? What kind of illness could last that long?

Jhon sent him an apologetic look. “Ah, personal story. Only guild members and the head doctor at the hospital know.”

“I wasn’t trying to intrude,” Flavio immediately replied, not wanting to be seen as rude or intrusive. He was just…

“It’s fine,” Jhon said in a dismissive manner, still smiling politely before he cast a glance over in Tobyn’s direction. “A survivalist’s curiosity is a powerful thing, isn’t it?”

Tobyn ducked his chin toward his scarf to hide off the flush on his cheeks and glared at Jhon in return. However, he didn’t say anything to refute what he had said.

“Anyway, we need to get going,” Axel suddenly commanded, lashing out a foot to kick at Zeryn’s leg. “We’ve got a few errands.”

Undaunted by the kick to the leg, Zeryn seemed suddenly eager to leave. “Aye, need to gather some food.”

“Food?” Flavio repeated as he furrowed his brow in light confusion. However, his expression lightened when he remembered what he had learnt yesterday about the hospital. “Oh, are you opening up another soup kitchen?”

Turning his attention toward him, Axel nodded his head as a small smile appeared on his lips. “Yeah, for the south ward this time. We only ever have enough food and staff for one ward at a time.”

Flavio was about to ask for more details, about how often these soup kitchens take place and what was needed to run them when a sound of surprise and confusion was uttered by someone behind him. Suddenly feeling uneasy, Flavio turned to see Regina pushing herself to her feet and glancing (well, glaring if you took her neutral expression the wrong way) at Axel and the others.

“Soup kitchen?” she repeated. “But there are plenty of places to eat. There’s no excuse not to have food.”

Flavio immediately winced and tried to shush the blonde-haired chef. “Ah, R-Regina…”

Slowly, Axel turned his attention to Regina as well and seemed to peer at her through one eye, his left unexpectedly closing. “There’s a lot of impoverish families around Lagaard,” he said, his tone quite levelled yet firm. “If they can’t afford to buy food themselves, what makes you think they can afford to go to a restaurant? Maybe you should head out once in a while and actually look around.”

Regina immediately appeared flustered by his response. “W-what-?”

“No offense, but you are a chef, not a cook,” Jhon went on to say in a pacifying manner, but his polite expression seemed quite strained. “Chefs value presentation and individuality, right? Cooks are for when you need to cook in bulk and serve people filling and nutritious food quickly and in a short amount of time. Ah, but you are welcome to visit the hospital and see for yourself.”

“But the food is for those who can’t afford to buy anything themselves,” Tobyn reminded. “It’s wholesome, not pretty. It might be startling to see.”

Startling to see? Oh, did…did he mean by how many people relied on the soup kitchen and the hospital?

“Anyway, the hospital has it covered,” Axel abruptly said as he turned around and headed to the exit, his guildmates right behind him. “Running a restaurant isn’t easy, either.”

“Aye, dun worry yer cute little head, Flavie,” Zeryn suddenly added in a surprisingly reassuring way. “Yer got yer own mission to attend to.”

Jhon motioned for Tobyn and Chi-hung to walk out first before glancing back at them and offering them an apologetic polite smile once more. “Sorry for intruding and not buying anything, but we really need to get going.”

Axel waved an idle hand over his shoulder. “See you back at the inn.”

“Take care!” Flavio called back.

As soon as the five of them left through the front door, a deafening silence fell over the restaurant once more. But this time it was…The whole thing was…

Well, it was awkward all round, wasn’t it?

Did…did the Guardians resent the restaurant, too? No, that couldn’t be right. They wouldn’t be so nice if they did, right?

“W-who the hell was that?” Regina asked, breaking the silence.

Flavio couldn’t help but wince lightly. While Regina’s face was passively-aggressive as usual, there was no hiding the soft sense of hurt (and confusion) in her tone.

“They are members of the Guardians Guild,” Flavio explained to her. “They’re really popular around town and mostly do search and rescues in the labyrinth. They also work closely with the hospital, and are really quite friendly once you get to know them.”

“You seem to get along with them so well, Sir Flavio,” Arianna surprisingly commented as she folded her hands elegantly in front of her and smile softly in Flavio’s direction. “Of course, it is of no surprise.”

“Yeah, well, they’re all really nice,” Flavio insisted.

And fun as well, he had to admit. His guildmates should try to interact with them as well. It would be good for them!

“Flavio.”

“Hm?” Flavio was concerned by the worry on Fafnir’s face.

Fafnir looked him straight in the eyes, his expression serious. “Stay away from that highlander.”

Flavio deadpanned at him. That was what he was worried about? Oh, sure, that worry had merit and all…

“Believe me, I’ll try.”

And…thank you, for not changing, Fafnir.