timberline-falls

[timberline-falls]

where are the fat sylvari

[timberline-falls]

"Urghk. It's you."

"It's pronounced 'Gerik'." The asura glared from his vantage point at the boots of his captor, as she stood upside down along with the trees. Blood was already rushing to his head. "Now set me down at once. This primitive snare is cutting off circulation to my foot."

The woman raised a brow, and Gerik sneered as he caught a smug smirk forming on her lips.

"Y'know, Pact told me y'wouldn't fall for somethin' mundane. You Inquests are s'posed t'be geniuses, aye?" Her arms folded and she scoffed, "Told'em you idiots would fall fer the most basic of traps."

"Are you quite done?"

The woman examined her nails before placing a hand on the hip of her duster. "S'pose so. I wanna reach camp b'fore dark, and draggin' yer ass there is gunna slow me down."

"I could free myself and eviscerate you before your little primate brain could count to ten."

"Be my guest."

Keeping a curious doubt to himself, Gerik bent upward and grasped the rope. He immediately withdrew his hands with a startled snarl. The exposed skin registered a pain like fire, and the asura struggled to wipe the sticky substance off on his tattered uniform. He swore profusely, "What in the Eternal Alchemy is this?!"

The woman watched him sway as he panicked, audibly snickering. "Pollen of the Devil's Prick herb. Key ingredient of the ol'Arch's best chilli. It's harvested with gloves made of--"

"I didn't ask for your cultural culinary trivia! Set me down immediately!"

"Nah, I don't think I will."

Gerik blew frantic breath on his fingertips, "I don't have time for this, human!"

She shrugged, "I do."

Growling, Gerik braced himself before bending upward again to grip the rope a second time. Before he could yelp, he forced his mouth down on it, frantically trying to force his teeth through it. While some of the hemp gave, its metal core did not, and radiated a horrible sensation from teeth to ears.

The woman chuckled, "If you're done makin' an ass of yerself, we're hittin' th'road. Nice core work, though."

Gerik's mouth watered desperately as he spat traces of the foul pollen from his tongue and lips. It hit his throat and he retched like a cat without the hairball.

"Gods, watchin' you struggle like this almost makes me regret th'catch."

"Is this how you depraved apes hunt your quarry?! This is cruelty! This is-- This is a crime!"

She shrugged again, a gesture he was quickly growing tired of.

"Eh, you're gettin' off easy. Some of yer compatriots have been a lot less fortunate," her smirk faded into something grim. "Be thankful y'fell fer my snare and not the spike pits or th'rat traps th'Pact's been settin'."

Gerik continued to spit and rub his sleeves over his mouth and hands, "Rat traps??"

"Y'don't want me t'answer that." She stepped closer to him with something in her hand. "'Ey, open yer mouth."

"I will not!" He attempted to spit at her, but the sway of the rope and her well-tuned instincts spared her. "Get away!"

She rolled her eyes, stopping just out of his conceivable reach. "I'm offering you help, shit fer brains. Now open."

The asura glared and, reluctantly, opened his mouth. She squeezed the soft waterskin she carried, sending a brief stream at his face. He caught most of it between his lips, the rest getting in his eyes and nose. He resisted sneezing, swished the relieving liquid in his mouth, and spat on his hands to cool the heat there as well. It wasn't a clean nor even total fix, but it was a welcome relief nonetheless.

"I think th'words y'want are 'thank you'."

"Alchemy! That was positively heinous." He still spat.

"'Thank you'?! You melted the taste buds off my tongue, human!"

"Y'have those? Because yer taste in all else is awful."

Gerik stopped himself short of pinching the bridge of his nose, not wishing to bring his eyes any residual pollen. "Listen, whatever your name is. I don't have time for games."

"An' why's that, eh? More innocents t'experiment on? Reactors t'blow up?"

"I have a progeny."

"You.. what?"

"There's a 'kid' who's depending on me getting back to him." Gerik was thankful for the rope's gentle turn, as being this sincere while maintaining eye-contact would be excruciating. "Likely worried sick by now. But I'm sure you wouldn't understand."

"I'm meant to believe that you have a kid?"

"Not biologically, if that aids your imagination."

It was the woman's turn to pinch her nose. There was a pause before she responded, "Tell me where."

"Absolutely not!"

"Do you want th'Pact t'find him, or me?"

"I fail to see the difference."

"Difference bein' is I don't arrest kids. I'm not Seraph, for godssake, and I'm not Pact either."

"So I'm meant to just trust you? Pah!"

"An' I'm meant t'trust yer sob story about a progeny?"

"Ideally yes."

The woman sighed, "Y'care fer th'kid or not, Inquest?"

"What an insipid question."

"I'll put it another way: Y'want t'ever see 'im again?"

His back fully turned to the woman allowed him a moment's thought without a mind for her scrutiny. After a moment, he replied, "Why do you need to know where he is?"

"So I can find 'im and get 'im outta the search area. Th'Pact's not as discernin' as I am about th'age of their prisoners. Anyone suspected as metakrewe's gettin' swept up in Metrica."

"And I'm supposed to trust you? My captor?"

"Fucks sake. I'm tryin' t'do you and this theoretical kid a favor."

"He's perfectly real, I assure you. And he needs me."

Groaning, the woman took a second cabled rope from her belt and approached the asura as she tied a lasso. "Fine. A deal, eh? Y'tell me where t'find the kid, an' I'll bring you along."

As the suspended asura completed a rotation, he folded his arms. "I can walk just fine if you'd be so kind as to cut me down."

"Accept th' deal, Inquest. Y'don't want th'Pact stumblin' across you or th'kid."

Perhaps it was desperation, or the blood flow to his head, but the Disaggregator relented. "I accept. Do what you will."

[timberline-falls]

i desperately wish gw2 had more food-centric lore. i think about asura food more than is probably particularly reasonable. they're sort of implied to like molecular gastronomy in the lvl500 chef quests which is fitting and makes sense, but surely not every asura is eating bespoke Pea Spheres day in and day out right? i think my favorite angle on them is a sort of 50s-80s american-esque food style where there's a huge emphasis on things being Convenient and Scientific, so you'd get a lot of absolute slop tv dinners and canned items that have labels boasting how they were nutritionally fortified and contained your day's complete vitamin intakes and so on. a lot of jellied things. i do also fully believe they would have + eat soylent.

[timberline-falls]

Previous Engagement

When Thelinia moved to scout ahead, the two men left behind watched her depart from the safety of the camp. They were nestled in what passed for brush in the Elonian desert, fortunate enough to have found the river before dusk.

Though he had denied it, Atticus had grown fatigued in his malnourished state. With the addition of Alaric's fresh injury, the two were unfit for further travel. Thelinia had taken it upon herself to insist on an early rest.

They watched her until the desert dust obscured her, not a word passed between them. It wasn't until Alaric eyed the man beside him that he realized the both of them had shared the same focus. He cleared his throat, though Atticus's distant gaze remained in Thelinia's wake. Alaric stared again at the dust cloud.

Now was as good a time as any.

"Hey, Dorse."

Atticus hummed acknowledgement, stretching back against the rock he leaned against.

Alaric cleared his throat, this time involuntarily as he averted his gaze, "What do you think of her? Raine?"

Atticus raised a brow, and those dull violet eyes caught Alaric's for a moment. He shrugged. "You don't need to worry. She's fine."

The Ascalonian hung his head with a brief, uncertain chuckle. "No, I know that much. I meant.." He readjusted his seating, mindful to account for his wounded arm. "I meant, what do you think of her."

Atticus did not immediately return his gaze, and Alaric averted his. The pause between them proved too uncomfortable for Alaric, who spoke again first.

"She… Is she.. Are you, uh.." His stammering frustrated him into silence, and seeming to intuit his meaning, Atticus answered.

"I wouldn't."

"What?"

With a light sigh, Atticus settled into his seat, such as it was. "You're Ascalonian, yeah?"

Alaric furrowed his brow, "I am."

"You remember that old children's fable, about the young woman and Grenth's curse?"

He thought for a moment. A handful of stories came to mind. "Remind me?"

"There was a young woman. She was deeply in love with a man, and the two planned to elope. When the time came, she waited for him at the tree they first met at. She waited, and waited. Weeks passed. Then she decided to find him herself."

It was beginning to ring a bell. "And she found him."

Atticus nodded. "She found a letter he left behind, and it led her to him. He had tried to bring her a great gift. Something to reflect his great love for her. A proposal."

Alaric was silent.

"She found him, and the cursed treasure he had tried to bring her. But he lived in undeath. The woman called on Grenth, begging that they must be together. So, the god struck her down where she stood."

There was a long pause. Only Atticus kept his eyes on the desert.

"I.. I'm not sure I follow," Alaric confessed.

"Her heart is engaged to a corpse."

A somber sympathy sat in his own, along with an alarming concern. He whispered, cautious, "And then.. Raine.."

Atticus said nothing.

[timberline-falls]

"He was a jerk. A loud-mouth Ascalonian and I could tell by his arrogant laugh he came from nobility. A real piece of shit do-nothing whose only hobby was mocking the loss of the Arch. He was in Shaemoor drinking, fully geared for godssake, and had the gall to laugh while bodies burned. Piece of shit.

"It still lives in my head, that laugh. But some god must have been watching, because I didn't lay him low that day. I had the right to. I almost did. But I didn't.

I didn't know what to expect when he found me in Amnoon. I was ready to finish what he started. Then he apologized, offered me guide work. I didn't have much of a choice. He said he saw me in a hard place and wanted to make amends. I still resent him for that.

We kept working together. His presence became tolerable, I guess. He was useful.

It wasn't long before we encountered the Forged. It happened that I saved his life then. He seemed sincere in his gratefulness. Maybe that's why he wouldn't let me go into the desert alone.

I'm glad for that. He proved himself capable, more than I was, at times. I don't know how many times we owed each other. At some point, it didn't matter."

-Thelinia Raine, journal entry, date unknown

(@monthlywritingchallenges)

[timberline-falls]

The sound of sobbing was the first thing to greet Gerik's returning consciousness. He felt his ears twitch, then the painful awareness of his body begun to set in. His head felt like it was spinning, but the rough taste of dirt between his lips was proof enough that it wasn't. A particularly poignant pain emanated from his back, and he dully recalled being shot.

Then the full recounting of the day's events hit him. His body jolted awake, and he spat dirt as he called, "Pwitt!", and scrambled to his feet.

Their pod had landed in a wooded clearing, taking some tree branches with it. The hatch was open at the wrong angle, just a couple meters from where Gerik found himself, and he recognized the disturbance in the dirt between the two points must account for the taste of forest floor in his mouth. He hurried to the open hatch, "Pwitt! Are you--"

"Go away!"

Gerik froze in place. The progeny sat huddled in the middle of the lopsided pod, having freed himself from the safety belts above. A pile of foodstuffs surrounded him, apparently having broken free from storage during the crash landing. He continued to sob to himself. "Pwitt, are you injured?"

"Go away!"

Gerik frowned but kept his position outside the hatch. From the looks of it, Pwitt was alright, at least physically.

But he had lost his home. And, more likely than Gerik wanted to admit, his parents.

Kezza.

Gerik opened his mouth again to speak, but found no words. Instead he stood, silent, at the distance Pwitt seemed to tolerate. He wondered if his proximity could be comfort enough to the young asura.

This was answered when a pack of dried grubmeal flew into his face. It slid down harmlessly, and Gerik blinked at the attack, dumbfounded.

"You left mommy! Why did you leave mommy?!" Pwitt's voice broke between sobs, and he took another packet in hand to throw at his elder.

Gerik took the second hit straight to his face again, making no move to dodge nor catch the projectile.

"You left her! You left her! You left her!" The progeny grabbed pack after pack, throwing with all the might his tiny body could muster. Most of the shots that landed struck the Disaggregator's armored chest if not his face. Gerik did not know how long it lasted, nor did he make any move to stop it.

As the progeny wore himself out, he also exhausted his supply of ammo. Eventually, Pwitt succumbed to his sobs again, and the attack subsided into quiet pleas, "Why? Why? Why did you leave mommy? Why.."

He had no answer.

[timberline-falls]

cw: child abuse

Gerik awoke with a start, jerking his head away from what he quickly realized was the stench of ammonia. He instinctively tried reaching for his snout, but found his hands were bound in place at his sides by a thick cord that wrapped around his body, as well as the chair he didn't recall placing himself in.

"Alchemy! What--" The Disaggregator narrowed his eyes at the darkness in front of him, asuran eyes dialating to parse out the form of a charr. "Who are you?"

"Does that matter?" Gruffed his apparent captor.

It was the same voice that cried out when he bit their leg. Gerik could still taste their leather boot, and he grinned. "Ah, you again. Afraid to face me on equal ground yet again, I see."

"You'll speak when spoken to, Inquest."

"Disaggregator Gerik."

"I know who you are, Inquest, which is the only reason you're still alive. When we've extracted what we need out of you, we may consider a pardon.. But consider that unlikely." The charr approached him, entering enough light from the above lamp that Gerik could make out telling facial features. Scars and age had weathered the tawny charr, and they were missing a horn as well as at least one ear. They were no one he had come across before, but he could surmise they were a Pact veteran. Possibly someone quite important.

Gerik folded his ears and snarled through a smile, "Your attempts to intimidate me are tiresome. Can I expect some form of barbaric torture next?"

The charr frowned, casting an eerie shadow over their features. "Unlike you, we have standards. We don't resort to torture so easily."

Gerik rolled his eyes, "Get on with it. What exactly do you think you'll be 'extracting' from me, hm?"

"You're going to tell me where the Magistrix is," the charr leaned down to his level, close enough that the asura felt their breath on his face. "Or you'll never see that progeny again."

To his dismay, those two key points rendered him breathless: Pwitt was in danger, and Kezza was, possibly, Alchemy willing, still alive. If the Pact had gone this far out of their way, she had to be. His heart pounded at a frequency he hoped those twitching charr ears couldn't detect, and he swallowed back the anxiety. "The Magistrix is dead."

"We have reason to believe she isn't, and that you would know her whereabouts."

Gerik huffed, "I saw it myself. She died saving her progeny from the likes of you."

The charr had the audacity to laugh, "Nice try, Inquest, but we know damn well she's responsible for the disturbances in Metrica Province. Which is where we found you, incidentally."

"You found asura in Metrica Province? Congratulations on your intrepid sleuthing skills."

Suddenly the charr lunged, their claws pressing into the stone chair's back posts. Gerik refused to flinch, meeting the angry glare with a growl of his own.

"Answer me, or should I remind you again that you put the child at risk with these games?"

"Not even your kind would threaten progeny," Gerik hissed, though the conviction was quickly waning.

"Try me," the charr withdrew into the shadows, and after a moment, Gerik could hear shuffling. Then a small, weepy voice.

A voice he knew. One that sent shivers down his spine to hear in a place like this. Soon the charr reemerged, with the progeny clutched in a single claw. Gerik barely registered his own slackened jaw before he impulsively cried out, "Pwitt!"

"Uncle Gerry!" Pwitt managed to answer before a sharp claw over his lips silenced him to a whimper.

Gerik struggled at his bindings, flexing and twisting in every way he could to find a weakness in the steadfast cable holding him in place. "Release him! Release him, you savage!"

"I don't think I will. You need a lesson in humility," the charr grinned, cold and toothy. "I said we don't usually resort to torture. While that's true.." They eyed Pwitt, petting his head with the lightest touch of deadly claws. "This is no usual circumstance, now is it, Disaggregator?"

"You're mad. You wouldn't--"

"Do you want to test me?!" The charr snarled, and Gerik quieted, returning the smile to the feline's lips. "No, I didn't think so."

Gerik's ears folded as he held his glare on the charr. "It's going to be alright, Pwitt. Uncle Gerry promises."

"Don't lie to the kid, Inquest." The charr scolded with an undue playfulness. "Only one of you is getting out of here, and that decision is up to you."

"What do you want," Gerik spoke through a low growl. "I don't have the information you think I do."

Pwitt squeaked. The grip around his frail frame had tightened.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

"You bring this on yourself, Inquest."

Gerik again tried to thrash against his constraints, though they dug into his arms. "Pwitt! Unhand him immediately! I'll--" The Disaggregator felt himself fall, and land against the stone ground with a painful thud. He had taken the chair with him. Somehwere under the charr's chortle, he heard the progeny's muffled cries.

The charr approached him, casually squatting down to address him quietly. "You can put a stop to this at any time."

"Just let him go, you overgrown feline. It's me you want."

"You're a stubborn one. It usually works when I threaten family members." They mused, and Pwitt stifled a sneeze. His allergy was only going to make this worse.

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you anything, if you just let him go."

The charr huffed, "Is that supposed to be a promise? From the likes of you? No," they swished their tail, and drew it in to encircle Gerik. The guard hairs were rough against his face. "I want you to ask me politely, in front of the little one here."

Gerik averted his eyes. "Let him go. Please."

Another squeak from Pwitt, and the Disaggregator looked up in furious horror.

"Try again."

"Please let him go. It's me you want. I..I beg you."

The charr hummed, and thought for a while as they examined Gerik. "I thought I heard you say something. What was that again?"

"Please."

"Not that."

Gerik steeled himself. His ears folded back and a pained gaze cast to the stone floor he rested on, he repeated in defeat, "I.. beg you."

"Mm. That's more like it. Now, can we have ourselves a civil working relationship?"

Gerik was silent. Pwitt sneezed again, whimpering.

"Well?"

The Disaggregator nodded.

[timberline-falls]

cw: child abduction

His boots trampled ferns and grass as he raced through the trees, zigzagging a path for his larger--and he hoped clumsier--pursuers to navigate. A toothy grin spread from his lips at sound of sliding ropes behind him followed by dull thuds and cries of pain. Days of work and planning, in addition to some careful footwork, had ensnared several of the Pact in the Disaggregator's traps just as he had hoped. He afforded himself a smug chortle at their expense.

The progeny clung to Gerik's chest, tightly enough that Gerik could feel the small claws poking his skin through the old uniform's fabric at the collar. The Disaggregator kept his pace until the pod was in sight, only slowing once they entered the clearing they had landed in not so long ago. Catching his breath as he came to a stop, Gerik lifted Pwitt from him and sat him at the threshold of their, he hoped temporary, pod home.

"Did we get them all?" The progeny fiddled with his digits in a way that reminded him of Vinn as he looked upwards, uncertain yet expectant. "Do you think they all fell for your traps?"

"Our traps. And with certainty." Gerik answered as he regained his breath, being sure to make an arrogant show of examining the weathered manicure his own claws sported. "Bookah are awfully predictable, hm?"

A canon blast, and Gerik found himself in the dirt.

"That right?" A growl from somewhere above in the tall Maguuma trees. The progeny squeaked as a handful of Pact operatives descended from branches.

Gerik thrashed under the weighted net. "Pwitt, inside!" He tried to turn his head, but a heavy charr foot ground his shoulder down. "Shut the hatch, Pwitt!"

The progeny moved to do just that, with great effort-- But another charr intercepted, sliding their long claws under the seal and pulling it open again like one might a bread box lid. The charr blinked at the small asura hanging from the inner hatch's locking mechanism.

"Found 'em, boss." The charr leaned in to get a closer look at Pwitt, prompting a panicked sneeze from the allergy-prone progeny.

"Good. Grab the little one," The first voice answered from above Gerik, their foot still pinning the struggling Disaggregator. "We'll take this one in for questioning. With any luck, he'll know wh--"

The charr's roar filled the clearing as Gerik sunk his teeth into the leg of his captor, having adjusted just slowly and carefully enough to achieve a sneak attack. His bite is repaid with a hard kick to the ribs before he can shout for Pwitt again.

Pwitt, whom startled badly enough to fall, found himself plucked up and placed into the pocket of a charr's coat. His eyes begun to water and he sneezed again, and again.

"He's allergic you--" Gerik was cut off by another kick, this time to his face, and his world went dark.

[timberline-falls]

cw: limb loss

Febuwhump2025 Alt Prompt #8

A vague pain slowly rose in intensity, prodding Kezza into consciousness until her eyes fluttered open. There was smoke and stone debris all around her as she laid facedown, motionless in the grass. The pain was not so distant now, and coalesced at her left arm.

A brief check of basic motor function invited sensation back into her extremities, the process of which was profoundly uncomfortable but neccisary to rule out injury or paralysis. She determined her arm was pinned under heavy rubble, unable to move or provide feedback other than pain. Still dazed, the asura forced her head to turn to the other side for a better look at her plight.

But there was nothing there. Nothing save for her arm, which laid in the grass an alarming distance from her. She stared awhile as her mind tried to make sense of the scene, until suddenly her body went cold and she was too dizzy to think.

--

"That should about do it."

Kezza heard someone speak. An asuran voice. It occured to her that she was waking up.

"Ah hah! Welcome back!" A cheerful face entered her vision. "How are you feeling, hm?"

Blinking until her eyes could adjust to the daylight filtering in through the trees, Kezza forced words from weary vocal cords. "I.. Where..?"

"Not to worry. You're in Metrica Province, or what remains of it.. Point being, you're safe now," said the voice beside her. It had a calming, masculine quality.

Better able to keep her focus, Kezza squinted up at the trees above her. She doubted the voice lied; Though she was no botanist, she knew the province's Maguuman trees well. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sunlight, but was surprised by the cold that touched her brow as she did. Withdrawing her hand, Kezza gasped at the sight of it, startling upright before pain in her back and abdomen forced her back into place.

"Whoa! Hey, sorry about that. I should have warned you."

She turned to the voice and found a wiry asura standing beside her, an embarrassed apology painted over his pale features. She noted he wore the garb of a medical professional. Her gaze returned to her hand and arm, which was wholly unfamiliar to her now. Made of stone and inlays of magic-infused crystal, she looked it over and cautiously tested its motion, studying it with a curiosity bordering on confusion.

"We tried saving it. Your original appendage, I mean." The asura offered. "Unfortunately by the time we discovered you, it was too late."

Kezza looked to him briefly in acknowledgement, but her attention returned to her arm. It possessed no feeling, yet moved as smoothly as a natural limb would. Strangest of all was the sensation that while it moved, a phantom arm registered the incorrectness of it all. She tried again to sit up, carefully this time, and felt the cold hands of her apparent doctor offer support to her back and hand as she did so.

"Easy now. We haven't been able to scan you for internal trauma yet."

"We..?"

The doctor nodded. "You've been brought to a safe zone set in place by the Pact," his long ears drooped, "Not many survived the city-cube's collapse. You're extremely fortunate. But our resources are currently limited."

The Magistrix hoped that the instintive folding of her ears portrayed sympathy for the situation and not the sinking of a lead weight in her stomach. Checking herself over, she realized she was wrapped in bandages, and nude besides them. There were numerous scorch marks still visible on her torso, and she inferred that there were only enough supplies to treat the most grievous of burns. A vague memory flashed in her mind of intolerable heat and fire before the world went black.

"Oh! I-I promise nothing untoward accounts for your current state. We found you burnt to near a crisp!" The doctor chuckled awkwardly, turning away politely. "We have some clothing for you but I make no promises for the fit. What is your name, by the way?"

"It's Kez--" She stopped herself just in time. The Magistrix's name was too well known, and she had nearly fed herself to the wolves, evident in the perked ears and brow of the doctor as he turned towards her carefully.

"Kezz..?"

She nodded. "That's correct."

The doctor looked her over again with a more curious scrutiny. Kezza's heart pounded.

"Well. It's a pleasure, Kezz. A shame we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

She might have been imagining it, but something in his demeanor seemed to shift ever so slightly.

"I'll fetch you that robe. Then we'll see what the next step is. Just wait here, yes?" He no longer faced her, and she waited for him to close the curtain behind him before leaping to her feet.

Everything hurt. Her skin burned and her very bones ached, but there was no time to bemoan her pain. Kezza stumbled to the opposite end of the makeshift room from where the doctor left, peeking out of the curtain wall to see if she could make a clean break for it.

Survivors and Pact meandered the grounds of the camp. Asura in states such as hers were receiving mobility aid from soldiers and caregivers, and still other Pact members patrolled through the area. A clean break would not be possible, but when she closed her eyes to access mesmeric ability, she was punished by a splitting migraine. It gave her time to reconsider: If they were to look for Magistrix Kezza, they would be looking for a mesmer. One going by 'Kezz' fleeing from the scene would be remarkably suspicious.

But there was no time and no choice. Summoning every bit of willpower her still-dizzied mind could muster, Kezza blanketed herself under mesmeric invisibility, and ran for the trees. Somewhere behind her, she thought she heard the doctor's voice along with others. The voices quickened as they rose in alarm, and the Magistrix pushed herself to keep running.

She had to find Gerik. She had to find her family.

[timberline-falls]

cw: allusions to death

"I just need to hear it, Ger." Kezza took him by the hand, entreating him to face her again. "Please."

"Kez.. I won't accept such a forecast." Gerik's troubled expression met hers, though he turned again from the plea in her eyes. "I need to know you'll be there."

The city cube quaked above them, and both asura folded their ears at the noise until it subsided. Kezza's nervous grip tightened. "And I need to know, that should the very worst happen--"

"Kezza--"

"--That you'll be there for him. For me. For us. Please, Ger." The Magistrix brought her fingers between his. "You're the only one I can trust to take care of my Pwitt."

Gerik could not bring himself to meet her gaze. Instead, he held his own to the cracked tile beneath their feet. He didn't need to see her to know the pained look in her eyes, the desperation of her circumstance.

Of course, her request was logical. In the event of the unfathomable, Pwitt would need a caretaker. Someone trusted and capable. The Disaggregator was all of those things, yet here he found himself in denial.

"Promise me, just one thing, Kez."

"Anything, Ger."

"Promise me you'll reach extraction," his own grip tightened around her fingers. "I need to know I'll find you there."

"I'll meet you there, I swear it."

He let her words settle in the air, but however earnest her voice, something deep in his intuition cried falsity. Eventually, Gerik nodded, and finally met her gaze. "Then I promise you, I will take care of him."

A grateful smile came to Kezza's expression, despite the tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Ger."

[timberline-falls]

master list

welcome back. did you miss me?

here is the kinkuary 2025 master list. here is a link to the collection on ao3. it will open sometime in the evening of january 31.

a few notes:

the collection is unmoderated and i am not reading each individual entry. please be mindful of your fellow participants and tag and warn as is appropriate!

this is a pan-fandom event. all pairings from all fandoms are welcome, no exceptions. no anti nonsense will be tolerated, and if you see any please send me a note so i can ban that person from participating.

there are no minimum participation requirements for this event. you can do some, all, or none, and the prompt fills don't have to be posted the day of—this is just a guideline to hopefully help spark your creativity in a tough month of the year! in the past, people have even combined multiple prompts for one larger work. whatever you want! just try to keep the theme in mind.

leave comments! we all do our best to write for ourselves, but communities are only as strong as the participants. i hope we all work hard to lift each other up, especially this year!

and finally—this is an 18+ only event. no exceptions.

happy writing!

[timberline-falls]

Some of my ABSOLUTE favorite asuran architecture concept art.

The second, third, and fourth images actually inspired Rhenn's father Prikk's genetics lab, Applied Maginetics!

[timberline-falls]

tw: execution, violence, suffocation, gore, violent death, stress vomit

Alt Prompt #3

The ranger landed facedown in the mud. Something heavy and rough as stone held her in place, its weight placed squarely on the top of her head. The taste of mud and the sensation of it moving up her nostrils incited her instinct to thrash against her bonds. Thelinia could hear the muffled protests of her companions as her face was pressed deeper. No angling of her shoulders or straining of her arms was making a difference.

The weight withdrew. A ruthless pull of her hair lifted her from the mud, letting her gasp for air while inhuman laughter surrounded her drowned the stifled cries of her two remaining friends. She spat mud as it ran from her nose.

"You should not have left." Hot breath hit her ear just before he tossed her forward again.

The hooves beside her calmly stepped past her, and she yelped as the wiry tail whipped her cheek as he left. The ranger swallowed, and looked across the small mud pit to her horror.

Among the bodies, two still lived. Bound like game, they laid prone and struggling, mouths gagged with the same rope that tied their arms behind their backs. They had already taken a beating from the intial struggle, and she saw fresh blood painted both their faces. Yet, though the trampled remains of her fellow bandits laid in the dirt around her, Stern and Dorse lived.

Then her heart sunk as Gryhurn stood between them. He turned to face her again, casually kicking mud in Stern's face. Cold eyes regarded both humans. "I am going to ask question, human Raine."

Her sunken heart poured adrenaline into her veins, but fear had frozen her. Stern and Dorse continued to struggle.

"Your friends dead," the towering centaur proclaimed with pride. "But I have mercy for you."

She was silent.

Gryhurn snorted. "Your mates. You decide.. One." To illustrate his intention, he lifted a hoof, hovering it for a few terrifying seconds over each man's head. It outsized their skulls to a horrific degree.

Hooves approached from behind her, and the rope wrapped through her mouth fell from wordless lips.

With a deep growl, Gryhurn slammed his hoof into the dirt close enough to Stern to catch his hair painfully beneath it. "You decide, or both die! NOW!"

Something bubbled up from her throat, and a pathetic sound preceded bile. A small amount spilled from her mouth only to be carried away by the mud still dripping from her face. She heard Gryhurn's laugh, dark and resonant.

"Fuck you," her hoarse voice growled.

In a flash, Gryhurn swiveled and bucked his back hooves into Dorse. The force sent him rolling into the mud in front of her, and they shared a panicked look of pain.

"Jus' kill me, you fucking coward," Thelinia hissed. "Let them go, Gryhurn!"

The centaur roared, and flung Stern into Dorse's back. He had to lift his head to breathe, and looked to her with resignation. She glanced between them both over and over, seeing each with the same plea in their eyes:

Forget me. You can save him. Just live.

Again speechless, Thelinia eventually pulled her gaze away to admit fear to her captor. "Please. I'll stay'ere with you. I'll do anythin' y'want."

Desperate protests from both men.

"Last chance," Gryhurn snarled as he stomped forward, the centaur's patience dangerously thin. Excited murmurs from the rest of the clan circled the scene.

"Gryhurn, you CAN'T! Jus' KILL ME INSTEAD--"

The centaur roared, rearing up to his terrifying height.

And his hooves crashed into the backs of the men she loved. Despite the rope between their teeth they both howled in agony, the sickening crush of their spines penetrating her bones. She hadn't realized she was screaming. The hooves rose again, and again, until only one human voice remained.

Blood and mud drenched her. Scalding bile climbed her screams, and she gagged violently as neither act would cease. She shut her eyes against the image of their bodies trampled into red mud, but it was seared into her mind.

All the while, centaurs cackled over the grand finale.

"Release her." Gryhurn dismissed the scene with a swish of his tail and departed, shaking gore from his legs as he did. "She stays."

[timberline-falls]

cw: magical time fuckery, betrayal

It had been an especially difficult training session. Kezza's muscles ached and her head felt like it was going to split in two. Chronomancy was a school she suffered to learn, and that was ever more reason to work at it.

But it was late, and she was tired. Vinn must have dinner waiting, she thought with a twinge of guilt. Alright. Just one more attempt at this spell. I can get it right.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. Calculations that transcended mathematics wove into the flow of time. Mesmeric energy began to build, and then a sudden stroke of logic reconfigured her focus. That's it!

Energy cracked through the training arena, striking out like lightning. The mesmer chose to ignore the growing roar of a rift as energetic bolts shattered the room's light fixtures. Something was wrong, but she could fix this..

Everything went white. Kezza felt herself collapse and hit the ground. It was suddenly unclear which way was up or down as her head truly did feel like it had split apart at the seams. After a passage of time she could not account for, her vision returned, greeted by an outstretched hand. Not yet able to focus, she reached for what she could make out, and found herself gently tugged to her feet.

"That one always was a doozy," a fittingly kind voice met her as she stood. Holding a hand to her head, Kezza looked up and blinked the other asura into focus.

It was almost a mirror. There she stood, herself. Herself yet, different. Her hair was longer, braided back into an intricate design with the glowstones she had always thought of purchasing. Her mirror's smile was genuine, but Kezza noticed a weariness in the eyes. Strangest of all, she was wearing a black and red rendition of Council robes.

"You're.. me."

"The confusion will wear off momentarily."

Kezza rubbed her brow with her palm. "What did I-- Did we do?"

The mirror let her hand free. "Nothing the Alchemy hasn't laid before us."

Blinking at herself, Kezza looked her mirror self over more closely. She looked so distinguished, wearing a confidence she didn't recognize. Hints of wrinkles framed the corner of her eyes, and Kezza estimated her mirror self to be around thirty-two years older than she. "What's happened?"

"One day, our efforts with chronomancy went awry and we created a brief rift in time. However, in our regrettable inexperience, it was unstable. When it collapsed, it shattered, and that distortion echoed into my time. That's why I'm here-- to help you repair the pathways of time."

Kezza took in the information with growing confusion, and shook her head. "I don't even know what I did. How can I-- we reverse engineer the catalyst if I can't recall it?"

"There's something you have to do. It's a choice you haven't made yet, because you don't know it exists." The mirror sighed heavily, and tightened her tone. "It is imperative that you believe everything I'm about to tell you. You won't want to hear it. Your instincts will fight it. But you must trust that every word is truth."

That gentle smile slowly faded.

"Wha-What is it?" Kezza's ears pinned at the solemn expression coming over the mirror's features.

Their eyes met, and Kezza saw the desperation in the mirror's eyes. "I.. I can do my best. I will."

"Vinn is lying to you."

Kezza's breath was stolen. "What?"

Her mirror self turned from her, pacing forward a few steps. "Vinn isn't Vinn. His name is Tezzin."

Silence fell between them. Impossibility.

"I'm sorry," the mirror swallowed, and cast a sympathetic look over her shoulder. "I know this isn't easy to hear."

"It isn't possible. It isn't even probable! Tezzin.. You can't mean--"

"The very same Tezzin that evaded your capture all these years. Yes."

Kezza tensed. "I can't.." Her mirror seemed to allow her time to process the impossible. And it was impossible, wasn't it? Her own partner? After all they'd been through, he would have been lying every moment of their relationship-- and why? Why lie to get close to her?

To get close to her.

Was it true?

Was it all a lie after all?

"I… Alright. A.. A thought experiment: If you are telling me the truth, then what is this choice I must make?"

The mirror's ears twitched, but her lips were tight and her gaze was stern. "You must surrender him to the Inquest. The future of Rata Sum depends on it."

A long silence passed. Kezza's expression slowly fell, her ears drooping. She was meek as she spoke, "I can't do that."

"Consider Tyria."

"What?"

"Surrendering Tezzin to the Inquest is the catalyst for change in Rata Sum. We won't stop there, either. Right now, in my time, the metakrewe is working towards a universal peace between all species. The project is under our command."

Kezza hadn't realized her mouth was agape until she finally spoke again. "That's.."

"Improbable? Likely." Her mirror's features softened again as she approached to take Kezza's hands in hers. "We've done great things. And I won't rest until the Great Conservation is ensured. Please, consider the future of Tyria."

Kezza averted her gaze, a creeping guilt haunting her. "A personal sacrifice, against the well-being of all. That's what you're asking, isn't it?"

"It is."

"What do they do.. with Tezzin?" Kezza watched something like fear flicker in the mirror's eyes.

"How much does that matter?"

"How can you say that?!" The hands holding hers tightened with urgency.

"How could I not? You're asking if one asura's pain is worth--"

"He's our partner!"

"I know." The mirror released a hand to bring hers to cup Kezza's flushed cheeks. "It was the most difficult thing we've ever had to do. But we did it. You can do this."

"I can't.."

The mirror stepped forward, and embraced Kezza as her composure cracked. "It all turns out alright in the end. And that's what matters, isn't it..?"

[timberline-falls]

cw: city siege, abandonment, death, blood, violence, electrocution

Alt Prompt #5

"I'll meet you there, I swear it."

Those words carried every step Gerik took, darting from cover to cover across the upper level of Rata Sum. His power armor was already heavily damaged by Pact fire, but he could not have been more thankful for it. What kind of body guard would he be if his body didn't guard his charge?

Pwitt whimpered as Gerik slid behind a line of friendly golems, nanoseconds before a rain of artillery fire found their previous cover.

"Uncle Gerik, why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are they attacking us? I don't understand," Pwitt sobbed. "Where're my progenitors?"

Gerik placed him down and knelt, glad to find his own body ached more than Pwitt's seemed to. "They're waiting up ahead," he spoke with a gentle tone, one he wasn't used to hearing himself with.

Pwitt wiped at his cheek. "Where did my mother go?"

The older asura sighed to himself as he calculated the best way to put it, and placed a hand on Pwitt's shoulder. It felt so small and frail under his palm. "She had to gather your father, yes? That's why we'll be meeting them both at the extraction point. Now," he mustered a smile he hoped was reassuring, "It's merely a few meters ahead. Are you ready?"

"I.. I guess so. I have to be."

Gerik's smile faded into an easy smirk, "I knew I could count on you, Pwitt." He opened his arms to take the progeny into them again, and concealed him behind the dented gauntlets.

The golems ahead were in poor and sparking condition, and Gerik hoped they would stay standing long enough for him to reach the landing pad that had once been a portal hub. Pwitt shut his eyes and balled himself as tightly as he could against the uncomfortable armor. His exposed ears clearly caught the sound of several simutaneous explosions alongside them, and he definitely heard Gerik use a word he wasn't supposed to say.

It was Gerik's turn to roll into a defensive posture, clutching Pwitt close and shielding him from the golem debris. He bit his tongue against a yelp as something breached the armor on his back, thanking the Alchemy that whatever it was didn't exit. They were so close, close enough that he could make out the last pod waiting just ahead.

But no Kezza.

Several ropes dropped from above and that many Pact soldiers followed.

"Stand down or we'll shoot, Inquest!"

Gerik glowered over his shoulder, "Rather ahead of yourselves, hm?"

Blades, magic, and gun barrels took aim. Gerik held his position, carefully crouched over Pwitt so his center mass formed cover.

The apparent captain held up a hand to stay the soldiers. "What have you got, Inquest?"

The Disaggregator bared his teeth. "Nothing that concerns you."

But one of soldiers had already spotted the set of little ears. "It's a child!"

"Release the kid, Inquest."

"I do have a name and designation."

"Don't make this difficult. Just let go of that progen--"

The captain's words were silenced by the sparking blade sticking though her neck. The body convulsed with the stray electrical current, and the blade was gone as soon as it arrived.

What followed was a flurry of magic and gunfire, and dancing through it all were several images of Magistrix Kezza. They glimmered and disipated almost as quickly as they appeared, and Gerik felt his heart soar along with the blood flying through the air.

The deed was done in seconds. Kezza set her blade on its magnetic holster behind her back, and hurried through a limp to reach her family. Her breathing was heavy, heavier than it should have been if someone was at all familiar with her battle prowess. And he was.

"Kez, what's--"

"Pwitt!"

There was no keeping the young asura from crying out and pushing past Gerik to embrace his mother as she arrived. Gerik stood and watched the reunion with a sigh of relief, though it was disconcerting that Kezza's clothes were still smoking.

Then Pwitt stepped back. His ears pinned themselves to his head as his gaze was held to the blood wetting his arm.

Gerik's own ears perked, and that's when he realized the red of her uniform was too dark down one side. "Kez--"

Kezza bent to gently but insistantly hush her progeny as his eyes welled. All three sets of ears twitched at the sound of approaching foot soldiers. "I'm alright, databit. You need to get to the pod with Uncle Gerik. Can you do that for me?"

"Kez."

Kezza brought herself to meet the stern concern in his eyes. "Ger.. Please. Do this for me." She saw a flash of outrage cross his features and sought to quell it, "I'll be right behind you."

"Kezza. I don't--"

"Just go, Gerik." She demanded, inviting a defiant stare. The Magistrix relented, "I promise, just let me buy us some time!"

A stand off of wills ensued, each asura silently pleading with the other. The footsteps were just around the corner.

The Disaggregator gave in. "Pwitt. We need to listen to your mother."

"But--"

"No buts, databit. I love you." Kezza spared time to kiss her son on the forehead before pushing him back into Gerik's arms. Then she was gone, in a wisp of purple and pink.

Gerik swallowed every word, every feeling he had to dart from the ensuing battle with a sobbing Pwitt. Perhaps, he wondered, they felt the same dread.

Gerik rushed to the pod, throwing himself inside. He sat Pwitt in a seat and strapped the safety belts as quickly as possible so he could turn and ensure Kezza's approach.

Instead, he found his heart in his stomach. They had her on the back foot, and outnumbered seven to one. But she was close, so close..

"Kezza!"

Slicing the air with her blade, a gust of mesmeric energy pushed the Pact back only as far as their significant shielding permitted. Gerik knew her well enough to recognize when she needed help, and moved to step a foot over the threshold, to fight by her side and get them both into safely..

Before he could act, the mesmer had teleported herself backwards, just steps from the pod. Gunfire struck the hull. But she didn't turn around.

At least, not to join them. She waved a hand behind her, sending a firm shove of energy into Gerik. Wounded and caught off guard, Gerik fell backwards. Then the hatch began to close.

Kezza had initiated the launch from the exterior access panel.

"KEZZA!" His voice cracked over Pwitt's intensifying cries, and by the time he stood, the hatch had sealed. His gauntlets smashed against it, then a frantic hunt for a passkey began on the internal access. To his horror, he was locked out by name. He damned her intellect, resorting to pounding against the port hole of the hatch with everything he had. Of course, it too had been prepared with a ward.

He hoped she could at least hear him scream her name, hear his pleas, that she might yet change her mind..

And for a moment, just as the thrusters burst to life, she turned to meet his distress with empathetic apology, all with a love he couldn't possibly deserve now.

[timberline-falls]

Mentioned it on my other blog but I should say it here too, I'm (trying) to participate in febuwhump! If you don't want to see my whump content, it'll be tagged with #febuwhump2025 so block away!

Not every day will be gw2 related, but the ones that are will be posted on this blog.

[timberline-falls]

cw : (magical) terminal illness, coma, medical trauma, injury

The access panel beeped.

"Are you awake?"

Not waiting for an answer, Kezza slid into the holding cell before the safety protocols could reactivate the barrier. She felt the familiar buzz of the force field charge before it ignited around them again, a cutting crimson within the dark stone structure.

"I brought that mushroom tea you convinced me of. I doubted the genus would yield a pleasant flavor, but you were right. I did like it." She shuffled to the bed, taking care with the mug in her good hand until it could be placed at his bedside. Her ears drooped as she sighed.

Despite all her petitioning, there was still no chair for her to rest at. Only the bed, and the ominous medical tray next to it, made up the room's furnishings.

So she did what she always did, and knelt to lean against his bed. For a moment, she thought she saw his knuckles clench in response. Did he know she was there? Or did he mistake her presence for one of the medical officer's?

She took a breath to quell the thoughts that followed, and guided her fingers through his just as the guard had told her not to. "I'm here, Gerik. It's me. Can you hear me today?"

His expression, being what it was, offered no answer. The oily tar-like substance that once seeped from his wounds had marred his features and sealed his eyes, as well as half his mouth. It was by the Alchemy that his snout had been spared, leaving open nostrils for respiration.

Then, her eyes caught an unusual behavior. Not of his, but of the light, and how it shined across the substance plastered over his face. On closer inspection, the mesmer recognized crystalline refraction right away. She blinked in disbelief-- After weeks of stasis, the substance that had once saved and now threatened his life was shifting states.

But Kezza, for all her knowledge and expertise, had no idea what it meant.

"Gerik... Ger, can you hear me?" She gave his hand a squeeze, savoring the fact he still had warmth to share. "I don't have much time, but I'm here now. And I.."

"K-Ke..."

Her ears shot upright. "Ger?"

If he spoke again, it was droned out by the pulse pounding in her head. And that was before the access panel activated.

"What? No.. No, I have more time!"

"Warden's orders, Magistrix. She wants a word."

Firm asuran arms gripped hers on either side, their strength a warning.

"You don't understand! Just another min--" Her own shriek cut her off, as both arms were pinned behind her back without mind for her injury.

"Ke...Kez." The syllable forced itself from Gerik.

"Ger.." Kezza swallowed, unable to resist her captors even as she strained her neck for one last glance. "I'm so sor--"

The room buzzed, crimson light flashed, and all was quiet. Somewhere inside him, Gerik knew he was alone again, and his only company would be the familiar aroma of tea lingering in the air.