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thepenultimateword · 11 months ago

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Love Thy Enemy Part 6

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

For all Callista's talk of winning Vorrin over, it was surprising that she returned to ignoring his existence. Pins and Switch even informed him that his designated visit to her chambers had been canceled for the week. Usually, Vorrin would've been thrilled, but considering the circumstances... How was he supposed to gain the empress's trust if they didn't see each other?

"Is she busy again?" Vorrin asked as he took a bite of strawberry scone. He kept his tone bland and stared with what he hoped looked like disinterest at the wall.

"I hear she's taking a trip to the border cities," Pins mumbled, sewing needle held between his lips as he turned the half-finished embroidery in his hands. "Probably takes a lot of prep work."

Vorrin had felt rather guilty about his outburst the other day, and remembering Switch's comment about waste, he'd asked the manservants if it was possible to repair the torn shirt. The short answer was no. Nothing could get the shirt exactly back to its original state. The longer answer, with more cloth and designs to hide the stitches, the outfit could be salvaged. So here the pair were, with more work thrust upon them, though Vorrin couldn't say he wasn't grateful for the company.

Vorrin set down the scone, turning full attention to the manservant. "The border cities? Why?"

"I only caught pieces from the soldiers while fetching your dinner the other night, but I think an emissary from Avarose is meeting her there."

"An emissary?"

"She has been out of the country for almost a year now. Maybe she needs an update from Prince Suthand on the state of the kingdom?"

"An update can be sent in a letter."

"You know more about politics than us," Switch said, stacking up some of the empty breakfast plates. "Why do you think she's going?"

Vorrin pondered it a moment. Callista was calculated, and she knew her hold on Totholan was tentative. She wouldn't leave the capital unless she thought it was absolutely necessary.

Perhaps she wanted to check on the strength of the border troops. But she could outsource that to a general couldn't she?" And then there was the emissary. That would be political. But why would she need a representative from her own kingdom? And why didn't they meet her here instead of the other way around?

"I don't understand anything she does," Vorrin said finally, picking back up his scone. He only managed to nibble it a little further before asking, "When will she return?"

Switch raised a brow. "You're certainly eager to see the empress again."

"I wouldn't say eager. Simply...interested."

"Well, she hasn't left yet," Pins said. "She might still come to say goodbye."

As if Vorrin was worried about not receiving a proper farewell. He was her consort, not her lover. He forced a smile anyway. "Maybe."

Pins smiled brightly back and turned the finished tunic around for him to see. "How's this?"

A spattering of golden stars and a large sun now hid the repaired tear. They glimmered against the white fabric like the celestial bodies they were imitating.

"It’s beautiful,” Vorrin said, “it’s a wonder you were hired as a manservant rather than a tailor’s apprentice.”

Pins flushed appreciatively and lowered his eyes to the ground. “I used to do the repairs to the servants' uniforms, back before I was officially hired. My mum said I had a gift. But…apprenticeships don’t pay in money, just room and board, and my family couldn’t really live on one income so…” His face fell a bit, but as he lifted his head again, it abruptly brightened. “When I was offered this position, it paid twice the amount as a regular manservant, and I still get to do sewing, so better off for me, I say.”

Vorrin fought the frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. He knew what it was like to come from humble beginnings. Living day to day on whatever scraps he could get. Going hungry. Survival topping every other thought or desire. The main reason he'd joined the King's army as a boy was for the pay. Squires received a gold piece every month, and the stipend only grew the longer he stayed alive. Not to mention the free board in the barracks. As he’d risen in the ranks, he’d created a comfortable place for himself. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he hadn't had any family to rely on him, so he’d only had to worry about himself. He could only imagine the pressure of supporting a family at such a young age.

“Is your mother in Totholan?”

“No, she stayed back home. But I send her half my earnings whenever any of the soldiers travel back to Avarose with the Empress's letters.”

“Which they skim,” Switch muttered.

“It’s fine,” Pins said, forcing one of his bright smiles, “I just think of it as a delivery fee.”

This time Vorrin did frown. “That is not fine. They recieve their own wages, they don’t need any of yours.” He doubted it was something Empress Callista would allow either. “I’ll speak to the Empress about it.”

Switch audibly choked.

Pins shot to his feet. “Oh, no! You don’t have to— It’s much too small a matter to bring so high as the Empress.”

Yes, Vorrin understood it was unconventional. King Duras would have imprisoned a servant for wasting his time with such a request, that is if he even allowed it to reach the level of audience, and with the state of the kingdom, Empress Callista probably would brush it off too, but…

“If she cares about me, she’ll care about you,” Vorrin said firmly.

“I don’t want her to think I’m complaining or gossiping about the soldiers. Especially not to you."

"Because you don't want to be blamed for my poisonous attitude toward all things Avarosian?"

Pins pressed his lips together, his lack of denial an admittance all its own.

“If it bothers you, I won’t tell her it’s you.”

"I...well..." Pins slowly folded the tunic over his arm and moved gingerly across the room to tuck it away in the wardrobe. "I guess its ok. If it comes up that is. And as long as it doesn't inconvenience her. If she seems put out, tell her to forget it. And don't make it seem too urgent." He cleared his throat and plucked out a new outfit, lithely changing the topic. "How about this?"

It was another set of robes, this one a couple layers, the bottom a silky vibrant gold and the top a poofed, gauzy white that muted the underlying fabric, almost like looking through fogged glass. Glimmering gold strings hung loosed off the sleeves, ready to hold each one in perfectly puffed sections."

Vorrin grimaced. Where did the empress even get all these clothes from? Had she sent for them as soon as she’d taken him hostage or had she planned for this ending in advance? From what he'd seen Pins and Switch wear, robes were not uncommon for Avarosian men, but the fancy ones in his wardrobe were on another level. Either high-class styles were different, or the empress had some tastes. Maybe a bit of both.

"Well, I was hoping to attend the training grounds today," Vorrin said. "That is if there is a soldier to escort me today."

One of the things he and the empress had agreed upon in their last conversation was that Vorrin should have more freedoms. The training grounds to practice his sparring and more visits into the city were at the top of his requests. Surprisingly, both had been granted, on the condition that he was watched at all times.

"Oh!" Pins put the garment set back and sifted around the wardrobe for something else. "Then this?"

The new outfit was two pieces, a bottom and a top, so that was at least closer to Vorrin's regular style.

The top was a black compressed shirt with the sleeves cut off mid-shoulder and silver-threaded embroidery stretching from the shirt's high throat to the middle of the chest, giving the appearance of a layered necklace. The bottoms...were a skirt. Blue. Long. Plain except for the embroidered hem in matching silver.

"Er...I can't exercise in that," Vorrin said. It was the more diplomatic reply.

"This is a sparring outfit," Pins said. "An expensive one, but still equipped for actual sparring."

"I don't see how I'm supposed to fight in that." Vorrin stepped closer and flicked the hem of the skirt. "It's too long. And constricting. I'm not going to be able to move without tripping, ripping it, or showing everyone everything."

"It's not a skirt if that's what you're worried about," Switch said, setting the stacked dishes on the breakfast tray. The young man was as sharp as ever. He marched up the proffered outfit and grabbed the hem by one side, pulling it up to show the wide trouser legs beneath. "The overskirt is for show. It's split so it doesn't get in the way. Think of it as robes for fighting. Most of the military has switched to more obvious trousers, but most generals still wear this style. I don't know if you've noticed."

Vorrin couldn't say that he had. He didn't really pay attention to what his opponents were wearing in battle, and since becoming Empress Callista's consort, he'd been mostly confined. He assumed he'd seen mostly low-level soldiers since then, but it was also possible he'd missed it, either being in too much of an angry fog to notice or assuming they were robes like any other.

"The outfit's fine," Vorrin said crisply.

"Good!" Pins said. "Then let's get you ready!"

"I'll send for a soldier to escort you," Switch said. A shadow of a grimace crossed his face, but just as quickly it was gone. Replaced by his usual straight expression. "It might take a little while, so I should go now."

"We can go together," Pins offered.

"No, no." Switch drew himself up proudly. "I'm fully capable of finding someone. And it will be more efficient this way."

With a short bow toward Vorrin, he was out the door.

Pins had Vorrin dressed within a half hour. The bottoms were much more comfortable than he'd expected. His hair had taken on a simple style today, tied up into a tail. However, Pins still managed to make the simplicity elegant by using a silver hair ring instead of a regular hair tie.

The bedroom door burst open. Switch stormed in red-faced and hair-mussed, slender hands barely catching the door before its handle could hit the wall.

"I found someone," he said, easing the door shut before sitting hard in one of the dining sets.

"What happened?" Vorrin and Pins said together.

"Nothing. Like I said. It just takes a while to find soldiers who aren't busy."

"Switch, you're shaking," Vorrin said, his voice falling into the firm tone of his old station.

Switch looked down at his trembling hands with a surprised expression.

Switch clenched them. "I'm not scared or anything. I'm just mad."

"What happened?" Vorrin pressed again, this time summoning the authority Switch responded to.

"It's just soldiers being soldiers," the manservant spat. "Being crass and difficult and idiotic as usual. I swear, this is why I dropped out of the military. They're all so stupid. But of course, they can't let it go. I'm a traitor because I didn't fight in the war and even more so because I serve a Totholi consort." Switch's tone grew sharp and sarcastic. "Apparently, it's very unpatriotic of me to be at the beck and call of a Totholi general. Oh, and I think I'm better than them because of my cushy safe job and better pay and face-to-face meetings with the Empress."

At that last part, Switch let out a little gasp and pinned his lips tightly shut.

Another time, Vorrin would have seized that slip-up. He knew that Empress Callista was getting information on his behavior from someone. His manservants had been the most likely suspects, and this confirmed it. However, this was not the time.

"I didn't know you were military," Vorrin said instead.

"Was." Switch looked steadily at the ground a couple feet ahead, clenching his fists harder so the knuckles turned white. Vorrin knew that look. He kept dry anger at the forefront of his emotions, but he was probably fighting off tears. "I only squired for a year. I hate soldiers."

"Is that why you sometimes have a hard time with me?"

Switch flushed a little and a long pause stretched over the room. "Maybe. I don't know. I guess sometimes I see the resemblance. But you're not like them. I know that. Even if you are aggravating." He cleared his throat abruptly. "Sorry."

"Did the oh-so-proper and strict Switch make a joke?" Vorrin said with a mock gasp.

Switch rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept up his face. "Don't tell anyone."

"They're just being jerks because they're jealous," Pins piped in.

Vorrin nodded. "As a once stupid soldier, I have to agree. For men like them, there is a pecking order, and they're worried you're on top. And they hate that, so they're trying to convince you that you're not."

"But I don't want to be a part of their stupid pecking order at all," Switch said.

“Then you need to find the biggest instigator and give them a good punch in the nose.”

“You are a soldier.”

Vorrin shrugged. “It’ll at least show them you’re not going to take their rubbish.”

“But it’s so unrefined…”

“And they are? They’re a bunch of insecure bottom feeders with too much space in their skulls. I’m telling you, the only thing people like that respect is brute force.”

“I’m really beginning to doubt your strategic ability as Totholan’s best general.”

Vorrin chuckled. “Well, I can always punch one for you. I doubt they’re allowed to hit me back.”

Switch let out a long sigh, though it wasn’t entirely exasperated. He scrubbed his tearless face. "I’ll think about it. Pretty sure letting the royal consort get into fights isn’t a much better look. Anyway, the escort is waiting outside when you're ready."

Vorrin stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for me to go then. Guess I better show this little guppy who’s really in charge. ”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Switch. I know how to handle grunts.”

“Seriously don’t.”

Vorrin only grinned, flexing one of his bare arms before sweeping out the door.

As he stepped out into the hall, the soldier leaning against the outside wall stood up straight. He was about what Vorrin had expected: young, a little below average height, and built just enough to have real muscle but still feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Vorrin could see the inexperience in his shifting posture.

“Good morning, Royal Consort,” the soldier said offering a short bow. Obviously, his feelings on a Totholi consort were much different when face-to-face with him. “My name is Raoden. I’ll be escorting you.”

“Yeah, I’m not remembering that,” Vorrin said, stepping past the man without a second glance and starting toward the training ground. “How about I call you Button?”

“Well, er…”

“Perfect. Come on."

The soldier scrambled after him, needing to use his full stride to keep pace at Vorrin's side. As they reached the end of the hall, he angled toward the right, the direction to the main entrance of the arena.

Vorrin turned left.

"Um, I think the training grounds are--"

"I know how to get there," Vorrin said.

He strode the full length of the hall, turning left and then left again. He barely glanced at the other soldiers and servants they passed along the way, only stopping when he reached a worn, narrow door the same grey as the stone around it.

"Royal Consort--"

Vorrin was already pushing inside.

"Hello, boys!"

The whole room scrambled to their feet. A couple of men fell off their beds. One hit his head on the bunk above him as he rushed to stand.

“So this is where you all go to slack off.”

One of the soldiers without his shirt or shoes squirmed. “We’re off duty, your…Royal Consort…sir.”

“Of course. Don't mind me.” He mosied down the aisle, looking idly around with each step, gaze skimming past the soldiers enough that they dropped their heads to avoid eye contact. “I just wanted a look at my old quarters before Button here escorts me to the armory. Well, close enough. These were the squire quarters. You're all full-fledged soldiers, aren't you?"

"Er...most of us," Button interceded from behind. When Vorrin glanced back at him, the man stood by the entrance, looking desperate to lead Vorrin back out. "Military rankings work differently in Avarose. Um...should we perhaps..."

"Really? That's interesting." Vorrin sat himself down on one of the now-empty bunks. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back on one hand. "How is it done in Avarose?"

Button looked around the room, but no one else spoke up. "Royal Consort Vorrin, I really think..."

Vorrin raised his brows. "Yes?"

"Uh...well, in Totholan there are three titled ranks, right? Page, squire, and knight? Though of course some knights can reach the higher rank of Knight General or the highest rank, like yourself, Grand Master."

Vorrin shook his head. "King Duras was the Grand Master. I'm just a general."

Button blinked and glanced toward his comrades and back. "Respectfully, sir...that wasn't what we were told in our briefing. That's why the Empress specifically--" He abruptly cut off and cleared his throat. "My point was Totholi military is more simplistic."

One of the soldiers snickered but stopped before Vorrin could identify who it was.

"Whereas Avarosian military is sort of...complicated."

Vorrin leaned his chin into his hand. "Oh?"

"There are ranks within ranks. Sort of like your knights, but with much more variety." He lifted one end of the wide scarlet sash wrapped around his middle. Looking at the colors may help. The lowest rank is yellow. Children in training wear the palest shade and it deepens as they move up. Green is the next rank, usually utilized as messengers or apprentices to higher-ranked soldiers. Blue is reserved for military medics. Red is for ordained soldiers, again the palest shades are always reserved for those with the least experience. Generals wear black. The sovereign wears white. But only on the battlefield.

Vorrin closed his eyes a moment, tentatively summoning a memory. He could still picture that day perfectly. Empress Callista standing over him, half of her hair escaped from its braid, the long tails of her "white" sash whipping in the wind. In reality, it had only been white in small patches; the majority of it was dyed red with blood. The point of her blade pressed carefully into his throat. He'd swallowed. She'd grinned.

Vorrin's eyes shot back open. He pushed himself back to his feet, shoving the memory's emotions deep down and instead surveying the soldiers once again.

"It seems every one of you carries a red sash. I'm surprised."

"Sir?"

"It took thirty minutes for my manservant to acquire one of you. You do realize that a request from my servants is a request from me?"

Button bowed his head. "Yes, Royal Consort."

"Tell me, how long did you spend arguing, drawing straws, and over me instead of doing your duty."

Button sank so far between his shoulders he resembled a turtle. "Too long, Royal Consort."

A part of Vorrin wanted to punish them further for Switch's sake. But Button had admitted his fault without excuse. Vorrin had to give the man credit for that. Many of the men looked equally chastened. No need to press further when a reprimand was being received.

"I suggest being a little quicker next time," he finished.

"Yes, Royal--"

"You're not in charge of us, Tolothi," another soldier interrupted. The man was all wiry muscle and unruly hair. Vorrin noted that his sash was vermillion whereas many of the other's were crimson.

Vorrin stalked up to the man, gazing down at him from under half-lowered lids. "Am I not?"

"You're a pet."

"Argin," one of the crimson soldiers hissed warningly.

"A dog may be pampered and protected," Argin continued, meeting Vorrin's eyes. " but that doesn't make it less a dog. And a dog holds no authority no matter who it belongs to."

Vorrin only smiled. "You sleep in a bunk bed. I sleep beside the Empress. Maybe I am a dog, but between the two of us, I wonder who has more authority. I suppose if you're really concerned I could ask the Empress what she thinks."

Argin paled a fraction and clenched his teeth hard enough to crack. He ducked away from Vorrin's gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing sparring or something?"

"You're right. Thank you, Kitty."

The man flushed equal parts embarrassment and anger.

"Come along, Raoden."

Button looked a little shocked at the usage of his real name, but he quickly fell in step, following Vorrin through the door at the back of the room into another room of bunks, this one empty. The Knights' old quarters. They passed rows and rows of beds before exiting another door into the armory.

Unlike the barracks, this room had been completely reorganized. Probably so it could hold all the weapons that the Avarosian army had brought with them.

Vorrin ran his hand down the row of spears lined along the wall. "Any limits on which weapons I'm allowed to use?"

"I don't think Empress Callista established a rule." Button looked around the room nervously. "Maybe nothing too sharp?"

Vorrin tsked. "Do you have so little faith in yourself that I need a handicap?"

"When it comes to you, sir, yes."

"Really? You don't think you could stop me if I was armed? A little concerned for the person who is supposed to keep me from escaping.

Button swallowed. "I don't know, sir. But I know it took the Empress to defeat you, and I couldn't win against the Empress." He gathered himself taller. "However, Royal Consort, I don't think you plan on running. Even if I fell, there are at least a hundred guards between here and the end of the palace grounds. They would catch you immediately."

Button's tone begged Vorrin not to try anything. He almost seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Vorrin. He was right though. Vorrin suspected that having a watch was more about preventing him from stealing weapons than stopping an escape attempt.

"I'll stick with the quarterstaff then," Vorrin said, plucking the long wooden pole off the wall. "I only want to practice some movements today anyway."

Button nodded, relieved, and they exited the armory into the training grounds. A light breeze wafted the smell of the dusty earth, and the musty hay of the training dummies to his nose. Vorrin closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scents. It had been a long time.

The quarterstaff felt a little strange in his hands. Though his hands instinctively gripped the right places, the weapon no longer fit the same against his too-smooth palms.

Vorrin spun the staff a couple times before trying a stab. He stumbled a little and gritted his teeth. He'd overextended.

His immediate reaction was a surge of rage, but he exhaled the emotion slowly. This is fine. Just go back to the basics.

He fell into a defensive stance. Block, parry, stab. Block, parry, stab. He moved slowly, perfecting each movement as he went. After about four times, he picked up speed, throwing in a few dodging movements and thrusting out the pole in low and high attacks.

Button yawned from the sidelines.

Vorrin half-wanted to ask the guard to spar with him, but he doubted that was allowed. Maybe he should asked for two guards next time, one to spar with and another to watch him. Better yet, maybe he could begin bargaining for the release of his soldiers. Not at all at once, but one or two at a time. He missed their familiar company. Not to mention, he’d need them if this uprising was going to work.

Having enough of the repetitive movements, Vorrin imagined an invisible enemy before him. He’d done this all the time as a boy when the other pages refused to be his sparring partner. Having Captain Kenric for a mentor had remedied that, but he’d still found solace in solo sparring once in a while.

He lowered into a defensive stance, holding the quarterstaff diagonal from his body. He circled slowly, searching for weak spots, knowing his enemy was doing the same. Abruptly, he thrust the staff forward. The enemy dodged, swinging back at him violently. He barely stepped back in time, throwing the staff sideways to block the blow. He gritted his teeth and widened his stance further against the imaginary weight. He shoved forward hard, knocking the figment backward. He stalked forward, raising his elbows in preparation for the finishing jab. He thrust the weapon forward, and...

A very visible, very real sword collided with the end of his staff.

Vorrin inhaled sharply, retreating back a couple steps and instinctively throwing out his quarterstaff in front of him. It took a couple moments for him to make sense of the red-and-gold-clad figure in front of him.

Empress Callista glanced at the weapon then casually back to his face with a widening grin. She slid her sword back into its sheath. “Hello, dear."

Vorrin exhaled slowly, doing his best to hide the tension ebbing from his muscles. He'd felt like a hair-trigger ready to fire. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't visit my consort? you weren't in your quarters; I was told I could find you here." Her eyes roved back to the weapon. "It's been a while since I've seen you in action. Serious as ever I see."

Vorrin furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Some people spar for fun, you know. But you have that same look you have in battle. Fighting isn't a game to you, is it?"

Where did she get off acting like she knew anything about him?

"I spar for fun," he said a little sharper than intended. "But there's nothing fun about swinging a stick around by yourself. Besides, if I'm going to regain all my skills, I can't afford to be lax."

Empress Callista let out a little amused breath. "Well then, we'll need to spar together sometime."

Vorrin's face warmed. "I wasn't implying that I wanted--"

"I like the outfit," she interrupted. "Very classic."

“Well, it was in my wardrobe.”

Empress Callista gasped in mock offense. “Are you suggesting that I gave you those clothes just because I wanted to see them on you?”

“Is that not true?”

“Well, maybe.” She winked, her smile landing somewhere firmly between flirtatious and wicked. However, the sly curve quickly straightened into a more serious expression. “I didn’t know what you looked like until the first time we faced each other in battle. I had no idea what would suit you, so we brought lots.”

“You didn’t think we had clothes here?” Vorrin said.

“Dressing you in our styles was intentional."

"And now?"

"It still is. But your comfort is also important, so we'll find a compromise."

Vorrin let the butt of the quarterstaff rest against the ground. He leaned into it like a walking stick. "Dressing me like an Avarosian isn't going to win over the people. They're just going to be mad that I'm betraying our culture."

"Maybe. But it does show them who you belong to." Her gaze darkened. "And it's not just for your people. Mine need reminders too."

Vorrin's insides went cold. Empress Callista was so confident, so domineering in every action and word, he'd never considered that her people might have as many disagreements with this plan as he did. He was safe...wasn't he?"

"Anyway, darling," she said, shattering the frozen feeling encasing him, "as much as I love our little tiffs, I came to wish you farewell. I'm heading to the border this afternoon."

Vorrin remembered what Pins had said about the Empress saying goodbye. He sincerely hoped that neither manservant had shared his interest in her departure. "You don't need to do that. My servants would have told me."

"Ah. Of course." She cleared her throat and gathered herself up a little straighter. "It's a two-week trip--5 days to the border and another 5 back. I would have felt strange saying nothing at all."

Vorrin didn't quite know how to respond, so he stayed silent.

The empress cleared her throat again. Wait a minute. Did she actually feel awkward right now?

“Is there anything you need before I go?” she said

"I need your soldiers to stop terrorizing my manservants."

The empress's forehead furrowed. Not confusion, or doubt. More...disciplinary. The look of a parent when they're told their child has been caught teaching curse words.

"Explain."

"Pins gets his wages partially stolen whenever he sends money back home to his mother. And Switch gets harassed when he makes requests on my behalf. It has to do with serving a Totholi, which, I would like to remind them, is literally his job."

Empress Callista raised her brows. "Switch and Pins?"

"That's what I call them."

She didn't push it further.

Vorrin continued on. "They're in positions of power and servants to the Empire. They're abusing those positions for personal gain. If it were my men they'd be cleaning everyone's armor for the next week. Or be working directly with me until they wised up."

Vorrin caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps his voice had risen too loud because Button shifted uncomfortably from his post at the arena's edge. His eyes flicked their way, briefly connecting with Vorrin's. The young man's shoulders leaped a little, and he hastily averted his gaze to the empty space ahead of him.

The young man had been properly chastened earlier, but Vorrin wanted him to bring this information back to the others.

"They can't be allowed to act this way, can they?" he said, letting his anger raise his voice even louder.

"No," the empress said firmly. "Their behavior is unacceptable. Unfortunately, I don't have control of every action the people in my employ make. However, I will be alerting my generals and captains of the issue. They should provide some correction. Let me know if it continues."

Vorrin nodded. Despite the many things that bothered him about the empress, the one thing he could count on was that she was fair. King Duras had allowed, even encouraged, a toxic dynamic in his army. One where power and physical strength reigned as dictators. It had taken a long while for Vorrin to clean up once he became Knight General, so he couldn't help but appreciate the empress's standards.

She tipped her head to catch his gaze. "I assure you, Vorrin. The trust I have in my army is critical to me. I allow error, and I allow redemption, but those I deem untrustworthy have no place with me.

"I know. Thank you." The words came out before Vorrin knew what he was saying. To his surprise, he actually meant them.

"Anyway," he said, diverting the attention from his last words. "Why are you going to the border?"

Empress Callista smiled thinly. "There's confidential information I don't want to be written in a letter. At least not one that passes many hands. Not only that, but I'm going to be surveying the area for construction."

"Construction?"

"For the new capital. With the kingdoms merging, I can't stay here. Avarose would be outraged. But I can't return as if nothing happened either, or I risk losing my foothold. We need a neutralized city equally distant between both locations."

"Idosa won't be the capital anymore?" Vorrin didn't know why he hadn't thought about that sooner. Technically, Idosa had ceased being the capital the moment Empress Callista won the war. Yet, everything remained so much the same, the castle, the stationing of the guard, the mannerisms of the city... He'd never imagined this type of reform.

"Don't act so sullen. This will be a massive change for all of us. Streles has been the Avarosian capital for centuries. I'm anticipating a heated argument with every noble and advisor I have over the next few months."

"And me?"

It wasn't a very articulate question, but the empress seemed to understand.

"You'll come with me, of course. Not only to the new capital but to Avarose as well. The new city will take time to build, so we may travel back and forth for some time."

"I could stay here." That was something consorts did, right? Have their own homes? At least, King Duras had gifted his mistresses residences within and without the city. Then again, many of them were not official consorts. Still, it wasn't as if Callista needed him outside Idosa. If she gave him this place, he could fix it. It wouldn't be exactly as it was, but it could be close.

Even as he tried to convince himself of nobler intentions, the truth gnawed at him. He was scared. Outside of battle and expeditions for the King, he'd never lived anywhere else. He'd grown up here. He'd become something here.

Empress Callista shook her head, a little sympathy peeking through her steady expression. "You're my token. A representation of our countries' union. You'll always be with me."

Always?

Vorrin's lungs suddenly felt tight. Like he'd been shoved into a space--a cage--too tight for his body.

The empress's hands found his face, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. "It's alright, love. I will take care of you."

As if that was what worried him. Like he was a child who needed consoling about moving away from his friends. As if this was just about him and not everyone in Idosa--no Tothalan! And him a helpless bird with clipped wings.

No. No, don't think about that.

He released a shuddering breath.

He could stop this. None of this had to happen if he completed his mission. Calm. Calm. He just had to endure a while.

Vorrin stepped back out of her reach and looked down at her gold-button travel boots.

"Good luck, on your journey."

Empress Callista's hands dropped to her side, but she stepped forward, regaining the ground between them. "If you need anything, if you have any trouble, send for me. I'll return."

"Ah, so you expect trouble," Vorrin joked, not quite able to summon the humor into his smile.

She gently took his chin, raising his face to her eyes before withdrawing again. Her eyes appeared almost molten in the sunlight.

"I will be back before you know it."

Vorrin wasn't sure if that was meant as a comfort or a warning, maybe both. It made him feel strange.

He took two long steps back this time, properly distancing himself.

"Well, goodbye then. Bring me back something nice." With that, he turned his back on her, striding back to Button. "I'd like to go back to my room now."

Vorrin allowed the soldier to lead him through the proper exit this time. As they left, he felt the empress's eyes following him.

He did not look back.

Taglist:

@whatiswhump, @aprilraine, @ilovescarletwitch, @conniedensazation, @feedthebirds, @bloodinkandashes

#love thy enemy #creative writing #empress x general #empress x soldier #royalty #royal x soldier #writing series #fiction #writblr #writeblr #enemies to lovers #slowburn #writing #thepenultimateword #chapter #orginal characters #orginal story

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avvail-tales · 2 months ago

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ileana’s girls: act 1﹑the storm has come suddenly on #1

“Ma, ma!”

The young girl’s voice drifted through each dew drop of rain that fell from the sky - her fingers hiking her dress above her ankles, plodding across slippy grass. The grey clouds had cascaded over the little village in an unsuspecting sweep, her blonde hair a ratty mess, stuck to her cheeks in a damp tangle of locks.

An older woman had risen from her spot beyond the cobbled fence, wet and heavy clothing slapped over her shoulder in haste, ruined from the storm. A disapproving expression fell over her face as the little girl stumbled through the gate, snapped shut by her mother’s free hand.

“Lillia, you’re muddy,” she scolded over the rain, clasping the girl’s hand in her own and tugging her swiftly over to the open door of the cottage. She struggled to keep up with her mother’s fast strides, eager for them both to escape the rain. Her shoes clipped her dress, smearing mud over the white fabric and pink trills her mother had sewed for her.

Lillia’s bottom lip wobbled with her sadness. It was her favourite dress.

“Oh, the washing is soaked,” her mother moaned, dropping the soggy pile upon the kitchen table. A furrow lined her brow, running a frustrated hand through her dirty blonde hair. Lillia stood there, feeling quite useless, until her mother turned and began her incessant fussing.

“Off with your shoes, quickly,” she urged, helping her pull off her mud caked footwear. “What were you doing so far out, young lady? I told you to stay close to the cottage.”

Lillia pouted, her skin feeling sticky and soggy as she peeled off her dress. “Eddie wanted to play.”

Her mother shooed her over to the tub, before popping a pot of water on the stove. She quickly lit it, letting it warm as Lillia clambered into the small tub, the bottom rough against the pads of her toes. Her mother detoured to untangle her wet plaits. The sensation tugged pleasantly at her scalp, curling her legs to her chest with a pleased hum.

“You need to ask me first, Lillia,” she scolded, combing through her locks with her fingers until they were dangling past her shoulders. The movement allowed her to catch a bright flash of red on the little girl’s pale hands. “What is that?”

Suddenly, she latched onto the girl’s wrists, a look of frightened anger passing over her weathered face. “Is this blood? Did you cut yourself?”

Lillia winced as her mother prodded at her palms, smoothing her thumbs over the red stain. When she felt no bump of a cut or sign of an injury, her eyes darted up to her daughter’s face expectedly. Lillia blinked up at her, her eyes wide.

“We picked berries,” she answered quietly, her shoulders stiff. The mother’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, her hand coming to tenderly cup her cheek. The anger was gone, but the fear remained stagnant in her voice, in her body, bleeding into the air around them. She seemed to shudder, and it made Lillia’s skin prickle with an expansion of goosebumps.

“You can’t go that far without me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “If you’d cut yourself and they had smelt it then—”

The words dry on her tongue, a wobble of emotion evident in her voice. It’s as though nausea clamps her throat closed, and she tenderly brushes her thumb against her cheek. She rises to her feet to fetch the pot, before gently taking Lillia’s wrists and pouring the warm water over them first.

“Off it goes,” she murmured softly, rubbing the juices off her small palms. The little girl shudders when the rest of the warm water is poured over her, the stark change in temperature making her bottom lip jut out in protest.

The mother gently slips her hair over her shoulders, unsticking wet bits from her cheeks. “You know how dangerous it is out there, Lillia. I just want to keep you safe. We always pick berries together because I know I can protect you. If you go out there alone, I won’t know if something bad has happened to you. Do you understand?”

Lillia blinks up at her mother, blue eyes shimmering under the dim lighting. “I’m sorry, ma.”

Her mother sighs heavily, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You are the most precious thing in my life, my sweet girl. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lillia whispered quietly. The woman’s expression relaxed just enough to allow a small smile to tug at the corners of her lips, before she resumed scrubbing the sticky mud off her skin.

The girl absentmindedly watched the clean water turn a murky brown, the calming scent of tea tree filling the little cottage as her mother attentively cared for her hair. By the time the water had gone cold, she clambered out of the tub, a shivering pile of gangly limbs, and dried off with an exaggerated huff.

“Doesn’t this dress just look so pretty on you,” the mother preened, peppering the little girl’s cheek in kisses as she squealed in delight.

“Ma, that tickles,” she giggled, wriggling in the woman’s arms as she easily kept her close.

“I can’t help it,” she chuckled softly, tapping her nose and watching it crinkle. “You’re so beautiful, Lillia. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Lillia blushed humbly, biting back a pleased little smile at the compliments she was being showered in. Her mother kissed her temple, dried off her hair, and rose back to her feet.

“The storm won’t pass until tomorrow,” the woman noted, ushering the girl to the small wooden table by the window. “Go sit down, Lillia. I’ll cook your tea.”

“Okay, ma.”

Lillia promptly did as she was told, clumsily clambering onto the chair and resting her fingers on the edge of the table. Her feet swung idly back and forth, her fingers drumming along the table, eyes watching the rain thundering hard on the windows.

It was raining so heavily it was almost as though the glass was rattling, shielding their home from the onslaught of the battle.

Water droplets seemed to form intricate patterns on the surface, chasing each other in a cascading rush until they reached the bottom. Lillia followed five rain droplets as they made their journey down the glass pane, tilting her head in curiosity when she caught something peculiar outside.

She shuffled onto her knees, pressing her small hands to the glass. Blurry figures seemed to be approaching from the forest line.

“Ma,” she called, momentarily distracting her mother from the stove. “Who are those people?”

There was a quiet clatter as her mother shifted the pan from the stove, Lillia’s eyes watching the fuzzy figures in the pouring rain. Her throat made a soft noise, blonde eyelashes fluttering gently.

“They’re going to get muddy,” she whispered under her breath, and the moment the words left her tongue, her mother suddenly gave a strangled cry.

Lillia barely even had time to process it before she was abruptly yanked off the chair, her mother’s arm clamped around her waist in urgency.

“Downstairs, now!”

Her socks barely found any semblance of grip on the ground as she was hurled across the room, her heart in her throat and a horrible prickle of fear on her skin. But within mere seconds, a resounding bang erupted through the cottage, the wooden door splintering under an impossible force.

Lillia screeched in fear, her mother throwing herself over her as the wood clattered against the ground and smacked into the walls. A whoosh of air tore her mother from around her, Lillia’s tear filled eyes snapping up to find one of the creatures on top of her, like a wolf snagging its prey.

Her mother’s guttural scream ripped through the cottage, a spray of wet redness splattering against the walls and up the stove, painting the potatoes red. Her thrashing limbs were squashed under the figure, the fighting a useless feat.

“Ma!” Lillia sobbed, barely climbing to her wobbly knees before a whoosh of air snatched her too, hurling her off the ground with complete ease. The bruising pressure almost made her want to throw up.

“No, ma!” She screamed, clawing desperately at the air as she kicked and flailed hysterically, as though she might be able to reach her mother one final time. Her mother, who was barely twitching, convulsing from the creature’s fangs in her torn flesh. “Stop it! Ma!”

Yet, as she was carried outside of the cottage with ease, despite her struggles, the pelts of rain and roaring winds hit her like bricks. Wet droplets smashed into her cheeks, causing her to gasp from the cold chill that seized her throat like icy claws. Her eyes squeezed closed, scrunching as a horrid throbbing pain seemed to erupt in the back of her skull.

Screams were dulled by the storm.

The unmistakable onslaught of destruction, houses wrought from a fast descending destruction, window panes smashed, and sprawled corpses lay face down on the grass in mangled heaps. How swiftly the monsters had torn through their village, truly like the relentless howl of the storm.

Lillia felt her swiftly soaking hair sticking to her cheeks, a lump squeezing her throat so tightly she felt like she couldn't breathe. Mind spinning with the rapid pace of it all — how quickly she had gone from the kitchen table to the arms of a terrifying creature. Her socks were sodden with wet mud, ruining the hem of her pretty dress. No, Ma just washed me, her thoughts choked. I’m muddy again.

Said vampire roughly hurled her into the back of a cabin, uncaring of her fragile limbs as she landed in an awkward heap on hardwood, crying out in pain. She desperately scrambled back, only catching the ominous glow of two red eyes in the haze of the pouring rain before the cabin door slammed shut with a thundering bang. Loud enough to make the organ in her chest lurch into her throat.

Lillia curled her legs to her chest, her wide eyes darting around the cabin in flickers of pain. She caught glimpses of terrified children staring back.

One in particular, that made her throat close up with a choked sob.

“Eddie,” she gasped, a ragged noise.

His tear stained face lifted from the solace of his knees at the familiar sound of her voice, his nose wrinkled with quiet sobs. She struggled to find a semblance of strength in her limbs to crawl over to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.

He tucked himself into her with a muffled whimper, shaking fingers digging into the sleeves of her dress. His wet, ginger hair tickled at her nose as she cried softly into the messy heap, her heart aching like wildfire in her lungs.

Even as she closed her eyes, the image of her mother, her blood, coating the walls of their home, tormented her with a cruel reminder of their sudden reality. She gasped for breath, her ragged sobs suffocating her. The reality, that this was no nightmare.

No matter how much she prayed for it to be just that.

The cart gave a harsh jolt, wheels rumbling across the wet path as it drew away from the carnage ensued. Water droplets shimmered across the delicate strands of her eyelashes, melting into the stream of salty tears that tracked down her cheeks. No child dared unfurl from their tight, protective balls, too shaken with terror at the might of the monsters to do anything. Lillia wasn’t thinking about escaping, or her fate, or anything of the sort.

All she could think about was how much she wanted her ma. Wondered, what about supper? She’ll surely be mad if she’s not waiting at the dinner table for her food. Oh, ma hated wasted food. Those potatoes will surely have to be thrown away. They can’t have blood in their food…

Eddie’s squeezing fingers dragged her out of her thoughts, feeling disorientated. His wide, green eyes were staring at her, bottom lip wobbling with a whispered murmur of her name. Lillia stared back; she’d been talking out loud. She could tell, because her throat felt tight.

“My pa,” Eddie choked, the words like hot ash in his throat. He was trembling so hard.

“Where are they taking us?” Lillia whispered frantically, sensing the entire cart of orphaned children flinch violently at the crackle of thunder outside. Even she did, too. The boy frantically shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he choked. His fingertips were still stained with berry juices. “I don’t know…”

She clumsily wiped the water droplets irritating her eyes, and when Eddie buried his head into the crook of her neck to cry some more, she simply held him tight.

MASTERLIST﹑link here

TAG LIST﹑let me know if you would like to be added

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anonnnnwriter · 6 months ago

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Melancholy pt. 1

Satoru Gojo (JJK) x Reader (You!) x Suguru Geto (JJK) (Platonic Relationship! You were all good friends during your high school years.)

mel·an·chol·y /ˈmel(ə)nˌkälē/ noun a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. except, in this case, there is one. It's December 24th, a day of mourning. You reminisce about the memories you've shared with Suguru Getou, only to realize you are not alone.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Nostalgic Melancholy

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Kyoto, Japan, is one of the most romantic and beautiful places, especially during Christmas. The air is filled with laughter as people stroll by, and the scent of food fills your nose. The chill in the air makes you shiver as the sun sets in the distance. You don't remember how long you've been standing here, daydreaming of possibilities that never came to fruition. Judging by the sun's position, a couple of hours have passed.

It's December 24th. People are having fun and exchanging gifts while praying to their chosen God for a happy and healthy upcoming year. You stood still, opposite to what everybody was doing, with your mittened hands on the bridge's rails. Your mind wandered, replaying scenarios that had happened and those that hadn't.

Suguru Getou was his name. You spent most of your days at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School with him, alongside Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, and Satoru Gojo. His smile, voice, and mannerisms still haunt your memories, and thoughts of years long past flood into your mind like a broken dam releasing an overwhelming ocean. You can't help but feel melancholic as you gaze up into the sky.

White birds flew past, singing a melody you already knew, and the scent of salt overpowered every other smell that surrounded you. In due time, your eyes began to burn and blur without warning. No matter how hard you tried to control yourself, the overwhelming feeling of mourning took you over in the blink of an eye. A shaky sigh escaped your trembling, cold lips, accompanied by a sorrowful frown. You closed your eyes, and tears streamed down your soft face.

You wish you could spend the day with him, hold his hand, and tell him you are there for him no matter what. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery mistreated him, and you were blind to it all. His struggles and lack of sleep were as clear as day, and you only noticed it so late when he ran away from the school and destroyed an entire village, becoming a curse user in just mere seconds. You continuously blamed yourself for something that you never saw in the first place.

The gentle warmth of the sun became evident as the cool breeze subsided. The world's noise faded, leaving everything muffled and quiet. It stayed like this for some moments. Sunlight sparkled around you as you raised your mittened hand to wipe away tears that had turned ice cold. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted by someone standing beside you, wearing an expensive-looking thick coat. His snow-white hair fluttered in the breeze, and his gentle, crystal-blue eyes gazed into the distance. His expression seemed filled with nothing but regretful longing, much like yours. "Satoru," you greeted gently, "I didn't hear you come. How long have you been standing there?"

"Eh, not too long now," he answered with his usual playful tone. "You looked lonely from afar, so I came to accompany you in whatever you're doing now." As he spoke, his eyes moved to look at you properly. "What are you doing?" he inquired. You gave a small smile to the other and exhaled deeply. "Going through some memories and longing for someone no longer here," you replied honestly, which took Gojo by surprise. "Oh, is that so?" He rolled both of his shoulders, a hum following afterward. "Yeah," you replied shortly.

As you both admired the scene around you, a silence fell. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, creating a beautiful, meticulously detailed sky. The pink hues of an upcoming snow shower melted into the sky as time passed, and the winter chill intensified. Despite wearing warm clothes, your cheeks and nose turned pink, and your teeth chattered. Satoru, however, seemed unaffected by the weather. Lost in deep thought, he hummed softly. Suddenly, he asked, "You were friends with Suguru, too, weren't you?" His question shattered the temporary peace you felt next to him—a shadow cast over your eyes as you gazed down at the ground. "You figured that out?" you replied with a calm laugh. "I wasn't his only friend," he snickered. "Besides, he always stuck beside you when I wasn't around him. When I returned from those Special Grade assigned missions, I always saw you two together. Remember when I would come out of nowhere and interrupt you two's conversation just like that? And he'd go 'Satoru... You're interrupting.' or 'Satoru, it's rude to barge into a conversation you're not partaking in..."

Such memories made you laugh, undertones of longing escaping your lips. "Oh, definitely," you raised a hand to shake the taller man beside you dismissively. "He'd always scolded you for your behavior. It was great, those times, I mean. You two were inseparable—practically glued together." You two entered the halls of precious memories you held dear.

Pt. 1 (You're here!) || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Divider made by Celcero.

#anonnnjjkfics #jjk #jjk x reader #creative writing #writing series #jjk fanfic series #jjk angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk geto #geto x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru

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schmedterlingfreud · 1 month ago

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Since someone asked me about the reading order of "Le Cronache di Portorosso", I built a little graphic which I hope is going to help with the chronological order of the series. You can find the series here: "Le Cronache di Portorosso". The fact that I'm writing the stories in a non-chronological order is not the smartest move, I have to admit it (xD). If this series is still going after four years it is mainly thanks to you and your support, my dearest readers. ♡♡♡ Let's boil ourselves in this angsty fish soup for a little longer! (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

#my post #luca 2021 #pixar luca #luca fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fan fiction writer #writing #writing series #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3 #writerscommunity #writeblr

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piplupfluffwritingstuff2 · 3 months ago

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Ooh! What series are you working on right now? :D

Hi Anon! Let's have a look, shall we~?

Trust

Forced Vacation

Something To Do With The Multiverse

Pym Particles and House Spiders

Hero vs Government

Hero Darling

An Offer You Can't Refuse

Snitches Get Stitches

I Can't Lose You

Yandere Stories

This or That Gothic Edition Snippets

Some of these are much older than others... ehehe... I'm working on it lol

If you guys have a preference for which one should get updated first, let me know! I also run polls periodically on my Patreon to see which ones get priority!

#tumblr series #writing series #fanfic #series #writeblr #whump series #hero x villain series #hero x villain #whump #asks

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bhummiikkaaa · 2 months ago

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🩶 Fragments of Trust (1)

I don’t flinch at knives anymore— just soft hands. They’re the ones that hurt the most.

#FragmentsOfTrust #emotional poetry #healing #trust issues #writing series #trauma healing #poetry #poems on tumblr #poem #original poem #poems and poetry #poetic #poets on tumblr #short poem #words words words

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your-own-worst-enemy · 3 months ago

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Sunlight pooling like liquid gold, steam curling from a chipped teacup sweetened with thyme-infused honey. Daffodils nodding in a windowsill vase, their petals gilded by dawn’s apricot glow. Birdsong weaving through cherry blossom branches, a bumblebee’s lazy hum near the first peony’s blush. Bare feet buried in dew-damp grass, a paperback splayed spine-up, freckles emerging like constellations on sun-warmed cheeks. A breeze carrying lilac and fresh-cut chives, linen curtains billowing like sails into the day’s promise. Your skin drinking the light, your pulse syncing to spring’s hum—alive, amber-lit, unspooling.

#writing series

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a-whisper-in-the-forest · 1 year ago

Note

Oh my goodness, I just read Coffee and Tips and IT’S SO GOOD! I love the civilian’s and villain’s dynamic and like villain said “now that I got a taste and want more.”

So I was wondering and hoping, could you please continue it? I understand if you were intending it to be a fun one off story, are too busy or can’t.

It’s alright either way and I know when it’s hard to continue something you write and feel like there’s nothing more to add. So no pressure. Thanks regardless, it’s absolutely wonderful and I love your writing style! Please take care and I hope you have the most wonderful day and everyday beyond that! 💖✨

Hi! That's so nice! I hope you have a wondeful day too and everyday beyond that haha. Anyway, here it is! There's a bit of fighting, so not that sweet (unless you think protective villains are sweet). I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Part 1 (coffees and tips)

Somebody I care about

Civilian looks at the clock. Only one hour before their shift ends. They sigh as they wipe down the already clean counter. There weren't a lot of customers today, they are probably all scheming in their lair. It has been their most boring shift in a while.

Just as Civilian puts away some clean mugs, a customer walks in. “Good morning! Can I get you anything?” they say as a record on a loop. As they turn around though, their heart makes a little jump.

“Villain! I didn't know you were coming today,” Civilian smiles. “I didn’t have anything else to do today and my henchmen are horrible at making coffees,” Villain says, also smiling widely. “It’s a nice day, right? The sun has been shining all day.” Civilian lets out a sigh. “I’ve been here the whole day. I haven’t had the chance yet to enjoy the weather.” Villain takes a few steps closer to the counter. “I’m sorry to hear that, you should come sit outside with me.”

Civilian really wants to go sit outside with them. Villain has visited the café a few times now and they always enjoyed their conversations. They can rant about their problems and tell them about their life and Villain would always listen very carefully. Then, after buying themselves and Civilian a coffee, they would leave an outrageously large tip (not that they were complaining) and leave. Civilian doesn’t know why villain does this, but it is so relieving being able to tell somebody everything they were worried about. They could really use a talk like that right now.

Right as Civilian wants to agree with Villain’s proposal, another person bursts through the door. “There you are! I swear Villain, if you don’t give back Sidekick right now!” Superhero’s voice booms across the little café. Now it was Villain’s turn to sigh. “They really don’t understand the concept of free will, do they?” Villain asks themselves more than anyone else in the room.

“Hand them over!” Superhero yells. Villain lets out an annoyed groan and turns around. “You morons really are too thick to understand what I’m saying, huh?” Superhero lets out an offended scoff. “Morons?! How dare you call us that, you lowlife thief!”

They get closer to Villain and start getting in their face, which, given Superhero’s height, looks ridiculous. Villain towers over Superhero, not only by physical height but also by demeanour. “I’m only going to say it one more time. Sidekick. wanted. to. change. sides.” Villain starts slowly. “They are not going to and don’t want to come back to you.”

“Lair.” Superhero hisses. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t want to go back either if my boss acts like this.” Civilian only realises that they said that out loud after it was said. Superhero’s gaze snaps to Civilian. If looks could kill, they would drop dead right that instant. “I don’t need your opinion, rat. Be a good peasant and keep your mouth shut.”

Civilian saw something in Villain shift. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Villain says in a tone that sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. “I don’t think the same thing. Who are you to-” That’s all Superhero could say before crashing into a wall. Villain slowly walks towards the coughing hero. In a ice cold tone that would scare the toughest person on earth, Villain talks slowly. “I don’t want to see your face ever again. You run back to your agency and tell them to never expect Sidekick back.” Superhero is still trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes they manage to speak. “But-” Villain kicks the kneeling Superhero down and puts their foot on their neck. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re lucky someone I care about is in the room. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so kind.”

Villain lets the hero go and steps back. The Superhero runs out and doesn’t dare to look back. Civilian comes around the corner of the bar. They can’t help but repeat the words in their head.

‘Somebody I care about’

It makes their heart jump and their stomach is feeling funny. “Sorry about that,” Villain starts, “Just tell Boss I will pay for the damages.” Civilian nods. They are thankful it won’t be taken out of their paycheck. “I think it’s better that I leave,” Villain says as they push a heap of cash into Civilian’s hands. “For the trouble.”

Before Civilian can ask about anything, Villain is out the door. Even though villain isn’t there anymore, there are still butterflies flying in their stomach.

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #snippet #villain x hero #my writing #writing #ask #villain x civilian #writing series #writing snippet #protective villain

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whump-since-2010 · 4 months ago

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i'm still in the process of planning out Puppet's series, and of course, it still needs a title

but I've never made a series before and i'd like to know how often people would prefer updates.

weekly? bi-weekly? daily? a custom schedule of 3 days a week? ect.

taglist: [contact me if you would like to be added]

@toyybox @carb0n-m0n0xide

#whump blog #whump series #writing series #original series #original whump series

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thepenultimateword · 2 years ago

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Old Bones Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

CW: Blood, cannibalism, abduction and being trapped, starving, death, undead description

Vampire smelt blood. Not the sweet or savory scents they were accustomed to, but a bland, metallic flavor that simply...existed.

Ah.

Their own.

As soon as they registered that truth, the lacerations on their ankles began to burn, sliced by the sharp edges of the snow as each step shattered the icy top layer.

Didn't matter. Run!

Footsteps crashed behind them.

But where next? They didn't know the way. They had not left Lav's cabin in weeks. And it was earlier in the morning than they'd originally thought. No later than 4 as the sun still hadn't come up. And it had begun to snow again.

"Vampire!"

Didn't matter. Run!

Anywhere. Anytime. Any place safe and lavender-scented and before all this happened.

Something heavy crashed into them from behind. The ice cut their cheek as they fell; a half-second later, their nose was filled with cold, stale powder. The weight lifted slightly as rough hands rolled them onto their back. Vampire blinked against the snow, making out a blur of red, and the weight plopped back on their chest.

“Vampire!"

"No, no, no!" Vampire warded them away with clawing hands, but the villager's beefy fists clasped them tight, drawing them in against their warm breast.

" It’s me! It’s me!" They kissed Vampire's knuckles. "It's Lav."

Vampire's eyes welled. "You don't-- You don't look like Lav. You don't... Your eyes...but not... What are you?"

The villager--Lav-- drew back as if slapped. Their yellow eyes drifted away from Vampire's face, fixing instead just past their shoulder. "Let me explain."

Vampire swallowed. Lav's grip had grown tight, almost painful. Worse because they couldn't seem to stop trembling, though, from the fear or the snow, they didn't know. "W-when you're done...can I go?"

Another slap. This time enough to make them drop Vampire's hands. "Yes. In fact...I've been quite expecting it. Should we go back to the house?"

Vampire shook their head rapidly. It felt like a trap. Walls they could be cornered against and kept behind. They couldn't imagine sitting down in the living room with that face across from them. They couldn't even make sense of what was going on. Was Lav even really their friend?

"Ok..." Lav said, shifting a little in the snow. Their new ruddy face was turning a bright shade of red in the cold, but they didn't even shudder. "You know I'm undead. Not like you though. You're beautiful. I'm... desecrated. You didn't have a choice in your transformation. And mine...well, it's only possible with some degree of choice."

"What are you?" Vampire said firmly, frankly tired of all this beating around the bush.

"I call myself an abomination. You'd call me a ghoul."

"A...ghoul?" Vampire blinked.

Lav thumbed away the cold dribble of blood rolling down their cheek. "You're smart. All those books. You've heard of ghouls."

Not a question, a certainty. And a correct one. Vampire had read about ghouls. They simply couldn't correlate the hideous illustrations from their books with the seeming human in front of them. The face they wore now may appear monstrous after last night, but If it weren't for those predatory eyes and the bone-chilling wrongness of their air, Vampire wouldn't have guessed anything supernatural about them.

Lav must have seen the recognition in their face and the wheels turning behind their eyes because they said, "What do you know?"

"Y-you live in graveyards," Vampire said. "You eat the dead."

"I eat the dead, true. As for the graveyard, it's more a hunting ground than a home. I much prefer my cabin. But I've never acquainted myself with another of my kind, so what do I know of others' habits. Anything else?"

Vampire shook their head. Since ghouls were apparently one of the less common creatures one could run into, the book hadn't dedicated much page space to them. And they weren't about to tell Lav the unflattering details of the entry's description. Especially when it had also offered no defenses.

"Ah." Lav's smile looked more like a grimace. "Then, unfortunately, I must be the one to give you the disturbing history of ghoulish birth."

Vampire grimaced. They weren't sure they wanted to know. There had to be a reason why Lav had kept it veiled for so long.

"I once told you my kind are not quite so simple as a bite. There are several parts to it. One, the moon: the process must last a full cycle, beginning and ending on a new moon. Two, the subject must willingly cannibalize. Three, the subject must die and with that death, make a choice: pass on permanently or return to life."

Vampire shuddered. Their death had been no picnic. Bloody. Nightmarish. Agonizing. But at least it had been quick. "So, y-you wanted to become a ghoul?"

Lav's eyes flashed. Vampire immediately shrank away, but Lav snatched them close again. It seemed meant as a comfort, but their digging grip and cold voice set Vampire's heart pounding.

"When I was 23 years old," Lav hissed in their ear. "I was abducted from my home and locked inside a tomb for thirty days. A sacrifice for a death god rumored to be plaguing our town. They were the cause of all their misfortunes, and my death would surely save them all in time for the next harvest. For four days, I starved in the dark, surrounded by the quiet dead. But, enough time passes, and anything begins looking like food. I survived on corpses' bones and spoiled flesh until the cold and the stomach sick killed me all on their own. But when the death god came for my soul, he gave me a choice. Most people don't know there's a choice. And that there's a reason almost no one chooses to stay.

"I didn't want to die. I had barely lived. I chose life. At first, it seemed like the right choice. I had escaped certain demise without consequences. Yes, something was wrong; anyone could tell that. Any extended amount of time with other people ended with their discomfort and avoidance. But I still looked like me. Sounded like me. Lived like me. And that was enough."

Lav's nails dug unconciously vicious into Vampire's shoulders. Vampire bit back a yelp. They leaned paralyzed on the again-stranger's chest, half frozen in horror, half captivated. Though Lav spoke rapidly, the words obviously came out with some difficulty. Any movement, any sound, seemed likely to send them back into silence.

Lav swallowed hard, throat bobbing against Vampire's resting head. "But I was dead. I couldn't stop the decay. Or the hunger. The craving for the things I had only eaten out of desperation before. My being twisted into something other, something monstrous. And soon enough...I was gone."

Vampire slowly pulled back, and Lav's hands slipped off them, settling in their own lap. They smiled vaguely at their snow-crusted knees, a sort of pasted-on, empty thing without any real feeling behind it. At least, not any of the good ones.

"So you...the real you..." Vampire trailed off, not exactly sure how to finish the question. It seemed insensitive to pry after such a confession. And yet so many questions churned in their head. Did Lav have a body? Were they a spirit that took others' bodies? What did Lav really look like?

Luckily, Lav seemed to understand where the thought was going.

"There's nothing left of me but old bones."

"Ah."

They couldn’t think of another response. This was all happening so fast. A few hours ago they were almost killed. A few hours ago Lav saved their life in a horrifying display. And now all this… Did they care that Lav had changed?

"I can shift my shape into the last human I consumed," Lav continued. "A facade for myself as much as others. I've done it enough times for it to have become commonplace, but each one still takes some getting used to. However, this body...was a less-than-savory choice."

Vampire cocked their head. Did a difference in appearance even count as a real change? They were still the same person. Even with this bulkier body, their mannerisms hadn't changed. The delicate way they folded their hands. The elegant tone of speech, so different from the villager’s harsh voice at the door last night.

Lav mistook their thoughtful look for further inquiry and rushed on. "I mostly survive on animal flesh, but every few months I must eat something human or I fall ill...as you witnessed yourself. I grew too weak on the way to the cemetery, and I needed to return to you...so I did what I must. It made you terribly uncomfortable. For that, I'm sorry."

Yesterday's conversation drifted back to them.

'Should you be getting fevers?'

'Sometimes. I’ve put something off too long, that’s all.'

So that's what they had been referring to. A few months, huh? Vampire had been with them for a few weeks, so they must have had their other form for a while. Had they been refraining for Vampire's sake? But why? They'd never hidden the fact that they ate things outside of Vampire's own comfort zone.

"So the way you looked before...when we met..."

"A traveling noble."

Vampire grimaced involuntarily.

"You don't need to look at me that way; I wasn't the one who killed them. I don't kill any of them if I can help it. From the looks of the carriage and the body, it was bandits. But who was I to waste a fresh body?"

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let yourself fall ill?"

Lav's shoulder sank, and they folded their arms tight against their chest. For truly the first time since they'd met, they seemed small. "Because I've been alone so long. And you were the first person who ever chose to stay. Even if it was out of convenience. With you around, I could pretend I was normal, like a real host with a real guest who both really enjoyed each other's company. I knew once the truth was out, you would want to leave, and I... I just wanted to pretend a little longer."

Vampire paused. The immediate denial of Lav's words dying on their tongue. They had run. And they had wanted to leave. And part of that had been because of Lav's choice of body, but the rest... They couldn't deny that a part of them had recognized Lav immediately. And they'd still run. Maybe had even been looking for excuses to do so. Lav was easy to love when they were making tea or dozing on the sofa. It was a whole different story when they were ripping people apart. Or when they looked like something Vampire had decided they shouldn't. It was the wrongness that made them run. The predator part of their friend that their instincts had always told them to flee from.

They could keep ignoring it or...

"Lav...can I see you?"

The ghoul's yellow eyes flicked unblinkingly to their own. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care. I...I want to see you. The real you. I think I have to."

If they didn't, it would keep eating at them. They'd always know they were only pretending to accept what they refused to even see. And the distrust would curdle any remains of their relationship.

Lav wet their lips. For a long while, they were quiet, the only sounds the ghostly whistle of the wind through the naked trees and the creaking of the branches as they became overladen with snow. Vampire expected them to refuse again when they said, "Can I ask one thing?"

Vampire nodded.

"Don't run. I want to say goodbye properly."

Vampire's heart skipped an uncertain beat, but they nodded again. "I won't run."

Lav rose brusquely to their feet, thoroughly patting themselves off and taking a long, deep breath.

Vampire's chest tightened. They only knew they were breathing from the faint cloud puffing in front of their face. They gripped the snow on either side of them in handfuls the icy bite grounding them just enough to keep them still.

Lav gave Vampire one last mournful glance and squeezed their eyes shut. Then their face began to melt.

Freckles and hair and ruddy skin, it all dripped away like candle wax. There was no blood or terrible cracking of bone Vampire had imagined in shapeshifting; it was liquid illusion, wet watercolor running off the page, exposing the pale paper beneath.

Vampire bit back their gasp, but a strangled whimper still escaped through their teeth.

The creature was ghastly. A skeletal thing with only dried sinews holding them together. Their tunic, once pulled taught against a broad chest, now hung like drapes off their bony frame. Exposed teeth trapped their expression in an eerie eternal grin, while their yellow eyes, bigger without lids, seemed to roll in their sockets as they looked to Vampire for a reaction.

Run.

The thought wasn't so much verbal as it was a visceral reaction.

Vampire slowly rose, legs shaking.

The creature shielded their face with a grayed hand, nails discomfortingly long and claw-like

Run.

Their instincts had always been wary around Lav, but now they were screaming.

Run!

Vampire stepped forward.

The snow had deepened since the start of their conversation, and with their legs already unsteady, the drift immediately tripped them. Lav lurched forward, catching them in cadaverous arms. In turn, Vampire slid up their hands to hold their desiccated face.

It was much colder and stiffer than while tending their fever, but Vampire stroked the raw cheekbones and haggard brow. So terrible. So familiar. They knew these bones.

"Vampire--"

"I'll stay with you."

Lav's breath hitched. Immediately, they were fleshy and warm again, buried in Vampire's neck in a fit of stifled sobs. Vampire could have gone longer; they didn't think they'd made any hint for them return to a living guise. Maybe Lav was the one uncomfortable in their own skin.

Vampire ran their fingers through the stolen red hair. "But we can't stay here."

Lav spoke muffled into their shoulder. "I'll keep you safe. If we stay in the cabin--"

Vampire forced Lav's face toward them. "Three villagers gone missing after visiting your house? They'll come investigating. And they'll find the bodies soon enough." They squirmed a little. "...Whatever you've done with them. We can't fight them all. And I don't want to. I don't think you do either."

Lav opened their mouth, eyes roiling with a surge of emotions, but the protest died on their lips.

"You can't travel in the day," they said instead.

"They'll be back before nightfall. I'll...I'll wrap up tight."

Lav frowned.

"Besides, it's winter," Vampire rushed. "The sun doesn't rise for a few more hours. Maybe we can at least get the other edge of the wood before they come looking. Find a tavern or inn to hide out in until nightfall."

"And then?" Lav said.

Vampire's brain stuttered to a stop. What was next? They'd barely survived here, and what they had managed had been mostly from hiding. Not much chance of that on the open road. But there would be more information available. More rumors. More people, maybe the inhuman variety.

"Find a clan," they said more firmly than they felt. "For the both of us.

Lav mouth pulled into a skeptical line, but they simply pulled the collar of Vampire's tunic closer around their throat. "We can talk more inside. You're not going anywhere until you've warmed up."

Vampire was suddenly aware of their aching toes, bare and several feet deep in snow. The wind whipped their cheeks and snuck up their shirt sleeves, prompting a violent shiver.

Lav hoisted them into their arms. "You really are the strangest vampire I've ever met."

"H-hey!"

"Darling, I chased you all the way out here; I'm not chasing you home."

Vampire stuttered incoherently but eventually settled tiredly against their brawny chest. They’d been through too many traumatic things in the last 24 hours, and having Lav so close was steadying, even if their outer packaging still unsettled them. They closed their eyes and concentrated on what they could feel beneath the skin, ribs, sternum, collarbones, shoulders…

They could get used to old bones.

Part Seven

Me after finishing this section:

I know it’s not the typical attractive love interest love story, but I think it’s important for Vampire to love Lav for who and what they truly are even if it’s ugly. And it not like they’re suddenly completely ok with it all either, more they’re comfortable enough with it at the moment to move forward. They’re still going to have to accustom to the idea that the physical attraction they’ve had up to this point has all been fake. And they’re going to have to be ok with an ever changing appearance and be confident in their love for what’s on the inside. Anyway, as I finished up this section I was thinking, “this might come off kinda weird for some people” but I enjoyed writing it so that’s what matters haha

Master Taglist:

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ourlilcorner · 15 days ago

Text

— 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩. chapter two

series content reminder. alcohol, drugs, & partying · angst · light nsfw/suggestive · college setting · exes · love triangles · swearing & inappropriate language · hazing mentioned · greek life · hookup culture · slow burn · friends to lovers · found family · childhood friends

masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

chapter two. words: 2k

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Maisy came into the living room hours later, around 10am, looking like a mess, but in a hot way; unkempt light brown curls, and smudged under eye liner her signature by now. Jo had heard her playing games all night, well past sunrise, her giggles soothing Jo to sleep. But, if Maisy hadn't gotten any sleep, she didn't look like it. She was already halfway through a pink can of Monster.

"Jo, my sweet, oh so dear, and sweet friend," she cooed, stretching her arms out. "Are you ready to get absolutely fucking trashed tonight?"

Jo smiled in response, immediately in better spirits, absorbing Maisy's energy.

There was a knock at the door, barely a tap before it swung upon. A tall, muscular, woman dressed in a basketball jersey and athletic shorts walked through the door. Maisy sprinted towards her, threw herself into the woman's arms, and wrapped her legs around her as she was lifted into an embrace.

"Tierra!" Jo called out, surprised, even though she shouldn't have been. Tierra was practically a third roommate at this point, Maisy's girlfriend of two years now.

"Did I make it in time to pregame?" Tierra laughed, speaking between kisses to Maisy's cheeks.

"It's not even noon!" Jo laughed too.

Maisy and Tierra got breakfast going, but with Jo on the counter chatting with them, it ended up taking two hours. After eating, Jo split off to shower, shave her legs, and straighten her hair, but found herself in Maisy's room again for help with makeup.

For someone who claimed to be sick of parties, Maisy didn't look it-- vibrating with charm, energy, and confidence. It was an infectious condition, and Jo found herself hyped, her nerves melting away when she basked in Maisy's aura.

***

The soccer team had a formal dinner before the big party every year. Some team members gave speeches and–if they made it through the process–the rookies became official members of the team. They had always been official per the school's roster, but they could party with the team now. For the first time in a few years, all the rookies made it through. B-team nominations happened, where members of the practice team got promoted.

Aaron was one of the underclassmen that got picked for the A-team. He would spend the coming season subbing in or on the bench, but it was a big deal for a freshman.

Brennan and another one of the older guys gave speeches about Aaron, and everyone cheered. He talked about their time as high school teammates, Aaron's passion and dedication, and some memories from practices.

Alcohol wasn't served at the dinner, but spirits were high. As they were going back to their cars as the sun set, Aaron wrapped his arm around Brennan.

"Heard you're bringing Maisy and Jo tonight," he said. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Mind if I steal her?"

Brennan rolled his eyes. In his head it was playful, but it came across far more irritated.

"Come on man," he said with a laugh, "don't start. This is your night."

"Alright, brother," Aaron said, patting him on the back before jogging to catch up with some of the other guys. It didn't sound at all convincing. "No promises."

Brennan told the girls to meet him outside his friend's apartment. It was the pregame, and he told them not to let Tierra give them drinks before they showed up. He knew it was going to be a long night--not one where you want to pregame the pregame.

When he arrived, he stood outside and fired texts. The social chair of volleyball to schedule a party, one of his brothers about the holidays, one of the girls' team players, some girl who must've put her number in his phone.

Oh yeah they're gonna shackle us together at the pregame, I forgot lol

He texted Maisy, as if he had forgotten. He hadn't. He had not told her so she wouldn't say no. He had her location, and he sent over the message when they were already walking over.

***

The moment Jo approached the off-campus house, she could sense a strange energy thick in the air. The people trickling into the property seemed mostly all sober, just as instructed in the invite -- something she hadn't actually expected anyone to follow through on.

Maisy greeted a few people she recognized, before leading Jo and Tierra to a corner, searching for someone to point out the drinks to them. Jo's eyes scanned the room, and her eyes fixed with curiosity upon a table in the front, covered in a black tarp. No one else seemed to share her interest, as it was generally left alone, aside from one or two soccer players checking in on it every so often.

Jo pulled at the hem of her dress, hoping that in her efforts, she really would be able to stretch it an inch or two longer. She was wearing a strapless emerald dress at the behest of Maisy, and the practically micro-mini skirt left her feeling more exposed than she'd anticipated.

Maisy's dress, however, looked like it was crafted for her body. The silk cupped her boobs perfectly, flowing down her curves, and ruching at her butt. Tierra's arm accented her waist protectively.

"Oh, there he is," Maisy said, gesturing towards her brother, his head poking out above the forming crowd in the living room. "That asshole didn't even text me--- oh shit, wait he did..."

Maisy's eyes widened down at her phone, and she let out a screech, turning to Tierra, and then back at Jo.

"Jo, I just want to say. BRENNAN is an ASSHOLE. He just told me that we're going to have to --" she stopped talking, seeing as Brennan himself had finally appeared in front of them. Maisy glared.

"Tee," Brennan said. He flicked his eyes up back and forth from his phone a few times before stashing it away. "Cody's coming down."

Tierra had been one of the Social Chairs for women's basketball last year. She and Brennan talked about parties and team drama. Most of their conversations didn't mention Maisy, unless it was near her birthday.

As he barreled down the stairs on the other side of the room, they could hear Cody's vibrato pierce the room when he saw her.

"Tierra," Cody called, cutting through the chatter enough to reach the group.

Cody was the reason Tierra was here, logistically, even though she happened to be dating Maisy too. The only openly gay member of the soccer team was her housemate and longtime friend. Brennan had been rookies with him, and Tierra was his "date" tonight. At his beckoning, Tierra disappeared to greet him.

"Thanks for coming," Brennan said, finally looking toward Maisy and Jo.

Brennan was in the School of Business. He also paid a lot of attention to details, for better or worse. It made sense that his dress clothes were well-fitted. He had changed from his dinner shirt into a black satin dress shirt. His mid-brown hair tousled especially well this evening, to his delight.

"So, okay," Brennan said, "they're actually going to zip tie us together until we finish the bottles."

They were downstairs in the house now, and the main room was filling up. People were taking pictures on the stairs, and the energy was high. Some of the couples had their bottles by now, tugging around together.

"We have three," he said, evading Maisy's eyes. He clapped his hands together like he was about to launch a sales pitch. They were all moving in and out of everyone's ways as they talked. "Which is manageable."

"Three," Maisy echoed, her face ghostly.

They made their way to the table handing out the bottles and shackling everyone. Brennan made small talk with the guy handing out bottles, Billy Bront.

Everyone called him "Bront" on and off the field. His full last name was Fernandez-Bront, but everyone chose to forget about the first part. He had dark hair and a dark mustache, and he was a Junior. He had recently turned 21, and he always seemed chipper. He and Aaron had gotten close quickly at the start of this school year.

Bront pulled the bottles from one of the coolers behind him, tucked under the stairs. They each had rhinestone initials: B, M, and J. Bront had industrial-looking black zip ties in his hands.

Brennan's strides were long, but he'd look back occasionally to make sure the two girls were close. But, the last time, he was a second too late.

"Two dates for this is crazy, bro," Bront said to Brennan, pulling him into a conversation over the black-tarped table. "You're gonna be lit."

Upon seeing Maisy scamper past from the corner of his eye, his smile brightened, if possible. More of his bleached white smile revealed itself.

"Your sister still with the basketball girl?" he asked, quiet, as he fiddled with the pack of zip ties.

Every now and then, his Colombian accent became more apparent. Brennan had met his mother once at a game, and she didn't speak much English.

"Yes, Bront," Brennan said, trying to sound firm but too amused by the childish grin Bront bit down.

Their freshman year, before Maisy met Tierra, she had hooked up with Billy Bront. Her brother said Bront was responsible for telling the whole team how hot and cool she was. She figured there could be worse reputations. Bront was annoying sometimes, but harmless.

"Who's the other girl?" he asked, not low enough that anyone near them wouldn't hear. Annoying, but harmless.

"We all went to high school together," Brennan said, after taking a moment to find the words.

Calling Jo his 'sister's roommate' didn't feel right. If it were anyone besides Bront, though, Brennan wouldn't have believed that he hadn't heard of Jo since Aaron joined the team. Although broken up now, as he learned last night, Brennan couldn't keep up with their status. He turned to have Jo introduce herself, but she was gone.

Joana wouldn't have admitted it then, but she was actually excited. Not because she was particularly fond of the idea of having her wrists restrained, worst of all, attached to a huffy-puffy Maisy, but because she found it endearing the way everyone was taking this seriously.

For most people there, this was just some random new soccer team party game but for Jo, it meant something to be able to participate. She'd spent the last year dedicating her free time to studying, and her social life was at an all-time low. In fact, her only real friends at this point were Maisy and Tierra, and she'd never even hung out with Tierra without Maisy before.

Not to mention, the moment her eyes laid upon their trio of bottles, a competitive fuse sparked inside of her.

"Maisy, stay with me okay?" Joana coaxed into her friend's ear as the two followed Brennan, a few steps behind him.

"Joana," Maisy said, a strange calm in her voice.

Her eyes were locked on Tee as she spoke, whose back was turned. And then she smiled.

"Don't you worry about me, okay?"

She grabbed Jo's arm and pulled her close, halting them both in their tracks.

"Tee definitely knew about this. And to not tell me, when I'm basically her wife... for that, she must be punished."

Jo laughed, then straightened her face out upon realizing Maisy was serious.

She was grateful about the zipties suddenly -- it was going to take a lot to reign her friend in. For a self-proclaimed introvert, Maisy had no problem making a scene, and Joana had learnt that the hard way. For now, the best thing she could do was distract her.

"Hey, look, I think I see Billy!"

Maisy didn't turn her head to look. She had an expression on her face like she didn't even know who the guy was, but Joana definitely remembered. Bront was in her environmental science class and she'd been partners with him for multiple labs, and even still... she wasn't sure if she'd ever really had a conversation with him.

And somehow, he'd slept with her best friend.

She still didn't know the full details of it all. Maybe she'd ask about it later. Joana made sure to smile at Bront when they passed him, staring right through his hazel eyes, till she was sure he'd remember her from then on.

They started to work through the crowd.

Joana felt her grip on Maisy's wrist loosen, and all at once, the girl disappeared into the crowd. Joana stopped suddenly, too, feeling people shoving in either direction as they made their way around her.

"Maisy?" she called out. She was struggling to find Brennan too, suddenly. "Brennan?!"

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