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ladytrollfishes · 6 years

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Inktober 8th, Fright

Daginy Chamae | 10 sweeps, 20 years | BAD END AU | 4116 words | tw: abuse

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You swallow nervously as you step in behind Vadaya and in through the door. The gym was built for psions- huge, with high ceilings and open space for sparring practice and exercise with two inch mats on the ground, but also a jungle gym and different terrains to practice combat on.

You've been here before, when you had a tour of the facility, and with your trainee classes, but this time you're here to meet the rest of Vadaya's battery.

You bounce nervously on your heels as you go over the information you already know about Nanako Bonjou and Casman Kainya. Nanako's an oliveblood with invulnerability psi who's impulsive and friendly. Casman's a yellowblood with eye lasers and a penchant for extreme sports. Vadaya cares about them both very much, and you desperately, desperately want them to like you. What you know about them could fit on a sticky note- it's hardly a comprehensive file. If you knew more, you could prepare, but actually giving you, the ex-rebel, their files would have been crazy. Vadaya's already aware of your blackmailing habit, and while he's approved of using it to manage your classmates, you think he'd take a different tact if you tried it with his friends.

As it was, it feels as though you're walking in blindfolded. You'd reach for Vadaya's hand if you weren't afraid it'd make you look weak in front of his battery.

The gym's pretty much empty at this time- the Burning Barghests were known to be a little destructive, you had heard, so the other batteries scheduled their practices for different times. You can see them, at the other end of the gym when you step in, a bobbing white shock of hair beneath a curling set of horns and a shorter figure with a single horn protruding from her forehead. You see the colors of their uniforms. Nanako, and Casman respectively.

You can't help it- you shy behind Vadaya.

"Are you alright?" he asks you.

"J-just nervous," you say. Your hands are gloved, but you're sweating inside them, and you rub them pointlessly against your pants. "I just want them to like me."

"I am sure you will get along," Vadaya says. You look up at him, looking for his calm, for any kind of steadiness. "Welcoming a new battery member is always an adjustment, but they are both friendly."

You nod, still not quite assured, but there was nothing to be done now. You had requested to watch a practice session, Vadaya obliged, and you were not about to walk out now.

"I'll be okay," you say, voice quiet as you approach. You're not convinced, but you'd do it anyway. This was important. If you didn't get along- if Vadaya decided he didn't want you, you're not sure what's going to happen to you.

The two women of Vadaya's battery watch you carefully as you approach, and you try not to wring your hands. You know they're watching you as carefully as you're watching them. Nanako looks pretty strange- you've never seen anyone like her, not that that’s saying much with her hair bleached bone white and deep, even, scars cut into her cheeks. You wonder who put them there. She bounces on the balls of her feet, her fingers linked and her arms pulled straight behind her. She smiles when she sees Vadaya, but it fades as her gaze lands on you.

You can't see Casman's eyes from behind her mirrored lenses- a precaution with her eye laser psi?- but her mouth is carefully neutral as she surveys you. You think you might be starting off on negative preconceptions.

"Nanako, Casman," Vadaya says, nodding in greeting. "This is Daginy."

You chance a wave. "H-hi," you say. The word sounds small. Your voice sounds small. You look to the side, clear your throat, and try again.

"Hi," you say, nodding. "It's nice to meet you guys."

"Very small, leh," Nanako comments. "Eh, sure they can fight?"

"Yeah," Casman says. "Sorry to say it right off but liiiike. They're tiny."

You shrink a little at the immediate judgment.

Vadaya glances back at you, then turns back towards the other two. "They are still in training," he says evenly. "They are not battle ready yet but I believe they will be an asset to us."

"Sure," Casman says. "Whatever you say, big guy. How useful is their psi again?"

"I have illusions," you pipe up, eager to sound useful. "I can manipulate light."

Nanako and Casman exchange a glance and a chuckle that you don't understand, except that you think it's at your expense. You feel tears start to work their way up but you bite your lip viciously until they stop. This was just like meeting the other trainees, but the stakes were so much higher. You couldn't just break down.

"They will not be practicing with us today," Vadaya says. "They are here to observe."

"Cannot run laps, yeah?" Nanako addresses you directly. "Too short, short, short to run with us?"

"Nanako," Vadaya says sternly, just as you jump forward.

"I can run laps," you say. You've gotten a lot fitter since you started training, and you have run a lot of laps. The extra exercise isn't going to hurt. You look towards Vadaya for approval, who hesitates before he nods.

"Very well," he says. "Though you will not be able to keep up with us."

"I can try," you reply firmly. Vadaya usually approved of you reaching for extra goals, but when you glance at the other members of his battery, you catch the tail end of Nanako's eye roll, Casman's little sigh.

You just want a chance, was that so much to ask?

"Ten laps around the floor," Vadaya orders. It was a large floor- a run that'd take you probably thirty minutes even though you've been training for this sort of thing.

"Yessssssir, Dayasir" Nanako says, saluting, and then she, Vadaya and Casman are off like a shot. You strip off your jacket and take off after them.

It's immediately obvious that Vadaya's right- there's no way you'll be able to keep up with them. Nanako's in front, running with a long, loping gait that springs her forward. Casman's not far behind, her shorter legs working faster to keep up that speed. Vadaya's behind her with a heavier gait, and they're all already a quarter of a lap ahead of you. For a run like this you have to pace yourself, you know, but as often as you've been outpaced by your classmates, this is somehow even more frustrating.

They obviously don’t like you already. Vadaya must have told them something about you they don't approve of, though you don't think he would have done that on purpose. You hope so anyway. You wish meeting them was as nice as meeting Dhraji- but maybe everyone would hold grudges against ex-rebels.

Oh. Vadaya had mentioned before that you had clashed with him when you were still a rebel. His battery was also probably there. Maybe it was something you did then, that they still held a grudge against. It wasn't you, you wanted to tell them. You were different now. That was someone else. But just telling them that while they felt like this would only prompt more suspicion and you have to prove you're useful enough to fill the shoes Zavare had left.

Nanako laps you as you finish your first lap, then Casman, then Vadaya. You truck on.

They get ten laps done while you're still on number six. You watch as they converse quietly when you're far away and fall silent when you come close. Nanako's sulking, you can see, her arms crossed and leaning against the wall. Casman's got a frown under her glasses. Did Vadaya tell them off? Would they resent you now, for earning them a lecture? Would they be as petty as the other recruits?

You finish your laps a whole ten minutes after they do, according to the clock. Nanako and Casman are already sparring when you pull into the last stretch. You note that Casman is wearing guards but Nanako isn’t. You're panting hard and sweating but not completely wasted, at the very least. It's a relief, even, to be too exhausted to care too much about what they think as you slow to a walk.

"Here," Vadaya says, and hands you a water bottle. You take it, too breathless to thank him, and swallow a few mouthfuls.

"My apologies," he says. You look up at him, surprised, which he notes. "For the way the others judged you. I failed to see how much bitterness Zavare's injury left in its wake."

You take another drink and shake your head.

"Not your fault," you say, then pause. You look up at him again, wary. "Was... was it something I did? From- from before. I mean."

You've got no way of remembering- Vadaya's the only one can tell you if your hunch is correct.

He pauses, then answers carefully. "As a battery, we saw you at your worst," he says. "It may take some time before they see past the deeds you have done."

"Right." You nod slowly, filing that away. It hurts to hear it, but as much progress you've made with Vadaya, you guess it's too much to expect everyone else to forgive you. You don't know what you've done in your past, but whatever it was, it was awful enough they had to make you forget you had done it. That's not the sort of thing everyone can forgive, and you'll just have to bear it now. "I can be useful. I'll show them I can be useful."

Vadaya nods.

"They will come around," he says. "Do your stretches, then watch us spar."

You watch them as you do your stretches, touching your toes and pulling at your shoulders, and when you're done you take a seat quietly at the side. You watch with your eyes and your psi as you try to keep track of their rapid movements.

They spar with psi and without. Nanako's is always on, and she bounces around the battlefield like a wrecking ball. The care she has to take when she fights Casman is gone when she spars with Vadaya. He's one of the only indigoes in Scimitar- he can take the hits she throws at him and vice versa. Neither of them are wearing armor.

You could see why the two of them were placed on the same battery. Casman's psi is to volatile to use on her teammates so she ends up sitting on the sidelines too, watching Vadaya's purple constructs wink in and shatter under Nanako's blows, and Nanako bound around her changing surroundings as Vadaya built faster than you could breathe.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" Casman comes to stand by you and you watch her with a wary eye too. "Oh put that look away. I won't bite you."

You look down, unsure of what to say, or what she even wants.

"I just wanna know," she says, "you look at Nanako and Vadaya duke it out. You really think you can keep up with them?"

You look back up at the dueling psions, moving much, much faster than you ever could, even with all the training in the world. You think hard about your response before you can give it.

"It won't be my job to keep up," you say slowly. "It'll be my job to protect them. And I can do that."

Casman snorts softly, incredulous.

"Whatever you say, twerp," she says, then moves back towards her water bottle.

You turn back to look at the spar, mind racing for options and possibilities. You can help, you know it, and you come up with a couple strategies for exactly that.

There’s a loud crack as Nanako lands a hit, breaking through the constructed sword and sending Vadaya flying. If you or Casman got hit like that you’d be back in the med bay with ten broken ribs. Instead, Vadaya just sits up, rubbing that spot.

“Good show, lah,” Nanako says, still bouncing. “Watch your blindspots Daya!”

“I know,” Vadaya says, with a slight rueful smile as he stands. “Again?”

Nanako nods, and you hop up from your seat before you can change your mind.

“Wait!” you exclaim. Everyone looks at you, but you swallow and jog up to Vadaya.

“What is it?” He looks up at Nanako, then back down at you quizzically. You’re interrupting. But you can’t let yourself get sidelined either, so you gather up all your courage. If Nanako and Casman wanted to get rid of you, you’d make it hard for them to do it.

“I want to help,” you say, low. Vadaya leans in to hear you. “I have- I have some ideas about how to assist.”

Vadaya listens to them, and frowns down at you.

“Yes,” he says. “That is feasible. Are you sure you can keep up?.”

“I’m sure,” you say, with a nod, even though you’re really not. You flex your fingers- you don’t like to think about the empty space between your fingers, but if there was ever a time for them to come in handy it was now. Nanako and Casman don’t have to like you, they just have to respect your contribution.

“Then I would be eager for the experiment,” Vadaya says. “If you feel as though you are about to burn out, stop.”

You nod, and he straightens back up.

“Daginy wishes to assist me with their psi in the course of this next spar,” Vadaya announces. “Would you be alright with that Nanako?”

Nanako cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders.

“Sure, lah,” she says, and nods towards you. “Little one is a target or nah, nah? Promise to tap, mor.”

You hold your breath and look towards Vadaya. An excuse to snap your neck and call it an accident? Nanako would get sanctioned but you would still be dead.

“Not today,” Vadaya says, and you let out the breath you were holding. “One thing at a time.”

“Fine, leh,” Nanako says, standing at the ready. “Time to see what little Dags can do, yeah?”

You turn back and jog towards the side of the gym, fists clenched and adrenaline flooding your system. It’s different from facing down the other recruits, when you freeze up and get knocked down. It’s like in chess games, when you see an opening and you itch to take it.

Casman’s sitting up too, watching you with renewed interest.

The two combatants face each other in position, as you move towards Nanako’s side. You hold your breath.

Vadaya constructs- a handful of wedges sharp enough to serve as weapons, wide enough to work as shields. You work as fast as he does- you pull a template off his constructs and triple their number in illusions and send them whirling with the rest. Geometric shapes are easy to work with- you’d see how effective they could be.

Nanako bounds forward, raising her arms to break through a wedge, only to stumble through an illusion. She’s thrown off balance. Vadaya spots an opening and bowls into her. Nanako curls against the blow and flips back through the air. You’ve seen her bounce off of constructs for momentum- you move an illusion into her path and she instinctively attempts to land where she can’t and ends up crashing to the ground as you run to find a better vantage point. She rolls back to her feet, fists up but eyeing the field of floating constructs with a wary respect that feels like vindication.

Vadaya doesn’t allow her to take stock of her options. He’s already flying forward again, with his sword at the ready for another blow. As much as your illusions can limit her maneuverability, Vadaya was the one who had to actually make contact.

Nanako blocks the blade with her forearm, up too close for it to be an effective range. You watch anxiously as they trade blows- Nanako snaps out a fist towards Vadaya’s face- he blocks the blow, barely, she’s faster than him. He steps forward to shove her back- he’s stronger, but as the distance opens, Nanako’s knee comes up and a kick snaps into Vadaya’s side.

He grunts, and your clench your fists tighter. You can’t help so much in a close combat fight like this. Throw random illusions to distract and disorient? You can’t risk distracting Vadaya too. You warp her vision then, setting the frequency you use to adjust the vision in your bad eye in front of Nanako’s face.

“Wha-” she says, blinking rapidly, too distracted to guard against Vadaya’s fist, which plows into her head and knocks her down, sending her rolling over her head till she’s face down on the ground.

Oops. Did you go too far? Vadaya dismisses his constructs so you let your illusions loose and jog over to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“That’s enough,” he says, and extends his hand to Nanako, who pushes herself up and rubs her head before clasping her hand in his. “Is something wrong?”

“Oof,” she says, blinking and looking around quizzically, rubbing her head. She turns towards you. “Was that you, ah?” she asks.

“What did you do?” Vadaya asks. There’s an edge to his tone you can’t place, and when you look up at him, his face is stony. There are lines of anger around his mouth. You stop in your tracks, your hands already flying to your shoulders in a sign of surrender. Did you just jeopardize your goodwill with Vadaya?

“I’m really really sorry,” you say hurriedly. “I didn’t- I- I didn’t mean-”

You just need to answer the question. You swallow, take a deep breath.

“I just- I bent her vision a little,” you say, voice small. “Like I do for my eye. But. Bigger.”

“Thought maybe I hit my head too hard, lah,” Nanako says, giving her skull a couple knocks. “And in practice? Shame shame shame. Is alright, lah.”

“And what do you do for your eye?” Casman asks from behind you. You jump and turn to face her.

“Um,” you say. You take another step back. “W-well, I’m near sighted. B-but in one eye, so. I just compensate with my psi.”

Casman hums thoughtfully. “Well that’s clever,” she says.

You glance at Vadaya, wary. It’s just the barest movements of his mouth and brows, but you know him well enough to know you’re watching him regain his composure.

“It is a clever application of your psi,” he says. “But perhaps do not use it during practice sessions.”

“Right, yes,” you say, looking down at your feet, embarrassed. “Thank you. You’re not um, hurt are you? Nanako?”

“Have a hard head, lah,” she replies. “Am fine, double confirm. Triple confirm.” She smiles wide, up at Vadaya, which seems to set him more at ease too.

“I have some ideas for you too,” you tell her, eager to show Vadaya you don’t have it out for his battery. “If- if you want to try.” “Yeah, lah?” Nanako says, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward. “What you got?”

“Um, mirages. And invisibility, for you, that could like, flash.”

“Wah lao,” she says. “Show?”

You look towards Vadaya, who nods in assent, so you take a breath, and reach for the tapestry of light that surrounds you. Multiple copies of Nanako’s form appear around you, stock still, then begin to wink in and out of existence.

“Woah,” Casman says, waving her hand through a couple of fake Nanakos. You move the copies to a sort of auto pilot, then move place an invisibility cloak over Nanako, and have it blink in and out too.

“Like strobe lighting, lah,” Nanako says, staring at her hands. You have the winking copies step back when she does, moving in unison.

“That’s creepy as fuck, goddamn,” Casman says. Nanako starts running in a circle around the three of you and you oblige, the clones flickering as you fake the run until she springs up behind Casman.

“Boo!” she yells as you dismiss the illusions.

“Empress!” Casman yelps and leaps forward. “Nana!”

Nanako just laughs and throws her arms around Casman’s neck. “Sorry sorryyyy,” she says and gives you a wink. “Looks like little Dags is useful, lah.”

“If you do not need to rest, practice aerial maneuvers with Casman,” Vadaya says.

“Gonna grab water first, lah,” Nanako calls, and bounds away.

“Finally time for me to do something,” Casman says and stretches. She takes off her shades and strides to the middle of the room.

Then it’s just you and Vadaya. You’re not really sure how to interpret his flare of anger- Nanako and Casman didn’t seem to have noticed. Or maybe they did and just eased it off by distracting him.

“You did well today,” Vadaya says to you. “How is the strain on your psi?”

His words release the tight grip of fear around your pumper and you can suddenly breathe properly again. You duck and put a hand up to your mouth to hide your smile at his praise. You’re glad he thinks so- and Nanako and Casman have to see the value you bring to the team now too, even if they don’t like you.

“It’s fine,” you say. “The thing I tried with Nanako was harder than the fight. I have to work on multitasking better.”

“Perhaps use a psimudra,” Vadaya says. “They often help with the sort of split focus that requires.”

You nod and rub your horn. It’s never occured to you to do that. It always seemed more useful to keep your psi under the radar- people who didn’t know you were an illusionist wouldn’t be looking out for illusions.

“As a precaution,” Vadaya says, after a pause, “do not use any techniques in practice that you have not previously discussed with me.”

You swallow, and look up at him.

“Um, you mean like what I did to Nanako?” you say. He nods, his face schooled to a perfect blank. Your eyes find the floor again.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just- I just wanted to help.” There’s a pause, and you hear Vadaya sigh.

“I appreciate your eagerness,” he says, “but your psi does present certain challenges by its very nature. The middle of a spar is not the time to surprise us with a new application of your versatile psi.”

You remember the wary anger in his face. He’s smiled more easily here, with his battery, than in any of the time he’s spent with you, and for a moment, you know he was worried you had hurt Nanako somehow.

He’s told you, that he can’t trust you. That his duty was to ensure that you’d never return to your former life, and that he would have to make inquiries into you because of it. You had accepted it, but you guess you didn’t realize that that distrust wasn’t just duty.

It wasn’t just your psi, you realize. It was you. Vadaya’s battery had already lost someone in the field, and the replacement he had been given was another rebel, someone he’d have to watch to make sure they didn’t turn, that wouldn’t take yet another batterymate from him.

You’ve heard the other instructors bark at their students, demanding nothing but obedience, hit the ones who disobey, but Vadaya’s never lifted a hand to you. Vadaya’s never said anything cruel to your face. You would have failed completely in regular training, something that made everyone else hate you, for not bearing the burden they did. You thought he cared, but Vadaya’s tactics in your training made sense: you were more fragile than the other recruits and when he was tasked with making one troll a better soldier, rather than weeding out the weak from a group, he had to be careful not to break you.

You turn to see Nanako toss Casman straight into the air. She flips, and the immense force of her psi pours out of her eyes to push her into another flip.

“It’s because it’s hard to tell when I’m using psi, right?” you say. “It’s a safety issue?”

Vadaya nods. “In practice it is better we stick to known quantities,” he says.

Would he tell you if it wasn’t? Maybe he did care for you, in a way. The chess games, setting you up with Dhraji, the careful consideration he always treated you with, they weren’t necessary, but on the list of things Vadaya cared about, his battery would always, always come before you.

“I understand,” you say, and bow your head.

#daginy drabbles #bad end au #tw: abuse

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ladytrollfishes · 6 years

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Daginy: Wake Up

Daginy Chamae | 8 sweeps, 18 years | Civvitrecce Suburbs | Directly after a Glub | cw: suicide, eye trauma

The only warning you get is a half flicker of the telegrub before it shorts out- everything is off, as much as possible, to preserve the generator out back of the little hostel.

You’d find out later that it was an imperial broadcast attempting to force its way onto the screen before the power shorted out from the surge.

As it is, you’re on your way out of the room to figure out what’s happening when sharp sound like a tack in the mind’s ear and you-

Somehow, you’re horizontal. Your head hasn’t hurt quite this bad since Lyrian. It’s swollen, pounding ache, as though your think pan is doing it’s level best to throw itself through your skull but- you take a hiccuping breath when you realize someone has their hand pressed against your eyes.

Fear bubbles into your throat like bloody froth as your thoughts turn into a panicked scramble. It must have been a trap, you must have been caught, is it Lyrian? Is she back? Your other eye. Your one remaining eye. Is it still there? Was it removed? Are you totally blind now? Where’s Mysmus? Where’s Herlyn?

A strangled sob catches in your throat as you realize they must be dead, or worse- and if they’re still keeping you alive- The suicide pill- you don’t have it on you, you could have had it in your mouth already but Herlyn wouldn’t let you keep it on you unless you were doing field work which you haven’t been- but if they won’t kill you, if they won’t kill and take you again instead-

You can’t do this again. You can’t.

You don’t care if she hurts you for it- she’d make a mistake eventually and just snap your neck some day. You tear at the hand on your face and try to shove yourself upright, even as she pulls you back down.

“Woah! Dags, Dags you’re fine.” It’s Herlyn’s voice. What? “Shhh hey hey you’re safe it’s okay.”

She continues to whisper comforting words even as she holds you down and you can’t bring yourself to believe any of them. Was this a trap? Some kind of voice stealing psi? You lie there for a moment shaking hard, clutching at the hand on your face as you try to work up the wherewithal to speak.

“L-let,” you manage, your voice as shaky as you are. “L-let go.” She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it and then you’d know.

“Okay,” she says. “Just slowly okay? Don’t hurt yourself.”

You bolt upright anyway and scramble away. Your head pounds for the effort. You open your remaining eye but your vision is clouded with brown. You recognize the pattern of the motel carpet. A blurry shape of black and red- Herlyn really is right next to you.

“It was a glub,” she says. She’s got yellow streaks on her face, streaming from her nose. “Knocked all of us out. ‘parently there was a broadcast where the empress said as much. Everyone’s talking about it online. Everyone whose up I mean.”

Your hands fly to your face as you shut your eyes again. It’s sticky with blood. You’re still bleeding, actually. From your socket too. Your breath catches in your throat as you shake. Helplessness swamps you, the same helplessness that swallowed you when Lyrian had pulled your eye out of your head, between the moments she had finished the procedure and started suturing the wound.

You want to shake off the memory and try to orient yourself but moving your head like that seems like a bad idea. You’re not caught. You’re not caught.

“M-mysmus?” you whisper. Suddenly you’re terrified he’s gone. You don’t hear him. You were so preoccupied with yourself you didn’t even think about what happened to him.

“He’s still out,” Herlyn says with a sigh. “He’s still alive and he’s not bleeding.”

It’s a relief. He’s okay. Mostly. He’d wake up soon, you hope.

You stagger to your feet but you but you barely get halfway up before the world tilts to the side and Herlyn has to catch you. The jolt brings a new spring of fresh blood flowing from your face and being touched somehow feels like a brand. A cry tears from your throat as you wrestle yourself backwards head pounding all the while, but it’s still just Herlyn.

“Hey hey it’s all good I’m just putting you back down,” she says as she lowers you gently to the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut again as you cling to her sleeves until she lets go.

You hate feeling like this. You hate feeling so useless. You can’t even stand without falling, and it’s like you’ve been shoved back half a sweep back to the moments after your rescue, except with no sense that it was over.

There’s every chance there might be another glub. There’s no guarantee you’ll wake up for the next one.

“Man, Dags,” Herlyn says. “You’re still bleeding, hold on.”

You flinch as you hear a scuffle but she doesn’t touch you, just walks off. You hear the sink turn on. A moment later and Herlyn presses a wet towel into your hand. You hold the cool cloth up against your face and start to stem the flow.

“I’m just going to like, move the pile over to you okay?” You hear her voice move around the room. “I’m the best off out of you guys so just.. just let me handle things okay? You should stay put till Mysmus wakes up and we can figure out what’s wrong exactly. Don’t want you to bleed more than you’ve got already.

You nod, despite the fact the movement just causes you pain.

You stay as still as possible, exhausted, as Herlyn gathers up the pile of cushions and puts them at your feet.

“Just chill out here for a bit?” she says. “You need anything else?”

You shake your head as you push yourself towards the pile of cushions- your fingers don’t hurt like you feel like they should- and sink into the fabric.

“I’m gonna see if anyone else needs help okay?” Herlyn says, heading for the door. “Get some rest

Rest. Rest sounded good. If you’re asleep you don’t have to deal with this.

Lyn’s gotten really dependable, you think. You owe her a lot.

You settle into the cushions, pressing the cool cloth against your face. You think about the cyanide pill. If you had it on you today, like you had wanted….

You try not to think about it.

#daginy drabbles #cw: suicide #cw: eye trauma

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ladytrollfishes · 6 years

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Daginy: Live with it

Mysmus arrives first at your next chosen destination. You’ve booked a room in advance- and it’s there he waits for the rest of you to arrive. His things are placed to the side in a neat pile, his hands in his pockets as he leans against the table as you stumble in with Herlyn, exhausted as the horizon fades into brightness as planet turns and sun threatens to rise.

Dawn is coming.

“What happened, Anisen?” he asks quietly.

You don’t want to deal with it but you have to. You sigh, and briefly recount the night’s events, simply and as impersonally as you can as you tug the scarf looser from your neck and slump onto a chair.

An imperial soldier recognized you and wouldn’t leave you alone. You took her and put her in the basement of an abandoned hive to buy time. Izinal asked her a bunch of suspicious questions. Ferra stole the nullbug from you and used it on her. You discovered the soldier was dating Pheres and blackmailed her into not telling anyone what happened at Sipara and Pheres’ expense.

“Oh- and Ferra and I fought,” you say, quiet, hushed. “I think she’s going to leave.”

Mysmus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I left for one day,” he murmurs.

“It didn’t happen because you weren’t there,” you snap at him.

“Hey come on,” Herlyn says. “He doesn’t mean it like that.”

You’re tired. You don’t care.

Mysmus hesitates. You can hear him take a breath but you don’t even look at him.

“Anisen-“ he says softly when there’s a knock on the door and Herlyn bounds to open it.

Ferra and Izinal stand there looking tired and somewhat ragged. Your eyes meet Ferra’s and you feel the atmosphere in the room tighten but you don’t look away.

“So,” she says, walking in and putting down her pack.

“So,” you reply, stone faced. You know what’s coming.

“I can’t stay,” Ferra says. “I thought things would get better but they’re not.”

“This is better,” you say quietly.

“Then I’d hate to see worse,” they snap back. “You just kidnapped an imp soldier. This is nuts.”

“And then I blackmailed her,” you say. “To keep us all safe.”

“If this is what you do to stay safe,” Ferra says. “What kind of shit do you do to get stuff done?”

You don’t want to answer that.

“Thought so,” she says with a sigh.

“Yeah then get out,” you snap as you get out of the chair. “Leave if this is so disgusting to you.”

Irritation like a wave pushes you to your feet as you stalk off to the ablutionblock and slam the door. It’s small white room and smells slightly of mold. Half the lights flicker on with a thin fluorescent buzz when you hit the switch. Your reflection in the mirror scowls back at you and turn the lights back off.

What does Ferra know.

“They don’t mean that,” you hear Herlyn say through the door.

“Yes I do!” you holler back.

You turn on the water in the sink and watch it flow into the porcelain bowl. The sound drowns out the You need to calm down. You remove your eyepatch. In your shadowed reflection you can see the white of the conformer in your eye and you look back down. You cup your hands in the flow until the water pools in your palms. You splash yourself in the face.

It’s cool on your skin. It feels good. You still don’t feel like yourself.

#daginy drabbles #daginy: live with it

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ladytrollfishes · 6 years

Text

Dragon Age AU 2.3

They still don’t take off the cuffs.

You sit there, listlessly, staring down at your stomach as chantry sisters untie your hands and wash your face. They give you clean circle robes, and when you sit there and do nothing with them, they do it for you. You barely struggle- your clothes are the last thing you’ve got that marks you as Dalish, your last connection with your home. You’re still too young for vallaslin so you’ll just look like any other elf in the circle. But- but- you’re too afraid that one of the sisters will hurt you for it, or even worse, ask the templars to do it. They get you in the shapeless robes as you listen to the two that are in charge- a mage and a templar argue about what to do with you all in the other room. Aubade they agree on- she went too far, she should be transferred to another circle. You don’t know whether you should be relieved or horrified they want to inflict her on other mages. Stuttgart acted negligently in allowing you to throw out the phylacteries like that. He would be suspended from field duty, and remain in the circle. You were a new mage here, and still young. They had hope for your rehabilitation. Demmens, however, has been a loyal mage for years. Both of them had been surprised to hear that he attempted to escape the minute his phylactery was destroyed, but neither of them were shocked with the news of his return. He demonstrated great moral fiber, but it did not cancel out the sin of his escape attempt. The final decision, in the end, is to send him away too. The possibility of the two of you being bad influences on each other is just too great, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to move you again.

You don’t see what’s fair about any of this. You didn’t like Demmens but it was hard not to feel attached after he had come back for you. He was the only half friendly face you knew and they were separating you.

Aubade and Demmens would set out again first thing tomorrow. You would be put with the rest of the apprentices and start your studies in magic as though you haven’t spent your childhood learning magic at the Keeper’s knee.

One of the sisters takes you by the hand and leads you to the apprentice dorm. You want to run but there’s nowhere for you to go, and you’re exhausted. You follow her with your head down, too tired to fight.

It’s not so late that people are asleep so entering the dorms causes a bit of commotion.

“Sister, sister! Sister Callahan!” Several of the children scream as they run for the sister. You flinch at the noise, suddenly breathless as you let go of the sister’s hand and clutch your chest instead.

“Calm down now,” the sister says. “We have a new arrival. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

She steps aside to let the room get a look at you, and you freeze. They’re human children, their ears blunted and round, still staring at you with curious eyes. They’re just as big as you are- you loved playing with the children at home, but this isn’t home.

They want to know who you are, but they took so much of that away. When you try to breath, you can’t bring in enough air, and instead you just shake like a leaf.

“What’s wrong with them?” one of the kids calls out in the long silence.

“Shhh,” the sister says. “They have had a rough time. They’re a Dalish elf you know. Perhaps they’re simply astounded by everything we have here. Leave them alone and let them get some rest.”

You hate Sister Callahan too, but at least she points you out to a bunk in the corner, something that’s supposed to be yours. It’s less privacy than at home, where you had the leathers of a tent to draw between you and everyone else, but you could still hear the camp wind down, the elders chatting and laughing near the fire as the pavel cleaned up her shop.

You’d be able to hear everything in the dorm at least. You get in your bunk and pull your blankets over your head and when you’re settled in a ball, you cry silently into the strange bed, trying to breathe properly.

The sister tells everyone to leave you alone before leaving the room herself, but it’s an instruction they don’t listen to for long.

Someone comes by to introduce herself. Her name is Herlyn, and she’s an elf too. She has questions about the Dalish- are they really as stuck up as everyone thinks they are in the alienage? What do they eat? Do they have money? She has questions about you- what your name is, how old you are, how’d you get here. You want her to go away, but she doesn’t. You try to talk, open your mouth and just tell her to leave, but nothing comes out. You can’t bring yourself to talk.

She pulls the blanket off of you, and you curl up tighter, hiding your face in your arms. She wouldn’t hit you, right?

After a moment, she just throws your blanket on you again, and you cry yourself to sleep. With the cuffs still digging into your wrists, you don’t even dream.

You don’t feel much better when you wake up. You try to say something then, quietly, to yourself in a corner, but the minute someone else comes in your voice dries up. You can’t talk, even if you wanted to. You guess it doesn’t matter in the end. You have nothing to say to these people anyway.

One of the apprentice mages takes you up to the classroom where you sit with all the other kids, listening to another mage up front explaining what the fade is. He’s like a hahran, you think. Tasked with teaching the children their heritage, except instead of teaching Dalish history, he’s probably talking about magic. The fade is what the shem call the Beyond, you think. The hahran talks about it strangely. A mage’s connection with the Beyond was part of who they were. Everyone was connected to the Beyond and visited as they dreamed, but only the mages were strengthened by it, chosen to serve as the clan’s connection to the world of the Creators. The shemlen hahran just talked about how dangerous the Fade could be, and how it could lead you astray or possess you to turn into an abomination if you’re not strong enough. And if you are, he talks like the fade is just a resource, instead of the world where everyone is connected. Shem magic sure seems like some kind of nonsense. You don’t touch your books and wonder how your clan is doing. The templars have to be lying to you about everyone dying, but they were still down a Keeper and a First. You hope they’re okay without any magic to look after them, without a Keeper to connect them to the Beyond. You wonder what will happen to you if you can’t escape. You’ve heard the shem don’t like mages, which you guess makes sense if they think of magic like this. You remember Keeper Sariandi smiling down at you, the first time you met her as you blew floating golden bubbles from your hands. She told you that your gift meant you would have great responsibility, and great pride. She told you that she would teach you everything she knew. There was so much you still didn’t. You bite your lip and keep your head bowed as you try not to cry in the middle of the school room. When everyone separates, practicing little fire spells you’ve mastered years ago. There’s nothing you can do, however, not with the cuffs still clasped around your wrist. The hahran makes his way to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. You freeze under his touch, staring at your feet. “You’ll be having individual lessons to catch you up,” he says. Like you couldn’t wipe the floor with all the other apprentices. He guides you to the door, and suddenly you’re afraid you’ll never see the other apprentices again, and you glance back at their attempts to create fire as he pushes you out to a templar. “Here,” he says. “Go with Ser Allison now.” You look up at the hahran, panicked, but he only smiles at you. “Don’t worry,” he says. “She’ll just take you to Enchanter Tenra whose going to teach you.” “It’s okay,” the templar says. “I’m not going to hurt you.” You stare at the ground again, shaking, but when the templar puts a gauntleted hand on your back and pushes you forward, you walk. You wonder when you became such a coward. She guides you to another room, where someone you suppose is Enchanter Tenra sits. You barely listen as she gives you instruction, the same fire manipulation the other apprentices are doing, too distracted by every twitch of her hand, of every clink of the templar’s armor. “Do you understand?” She asks. You don’t know what she said but you nod anyway. “Give me your hands,” she said, reaching out and you do, hesitant and unsure. She takes one hand in hers, and pulls out a tiny key that she inserts into a little hole in the cuff. Your eyes widen as she turns it, a little clink as it pops open and she eases it off. You barely notice the quick moment of pain as she pulls the spike out of your wrist, trembling with relief and a hope you barely dare to hope. You twist your arm around to stare at the skin of your bare wrists. There’s no wound, just a misshapen scar where the needle had plunged between your bones. It aches, but it barely hurts anymore, missing a pain you didn’t realize you had gotten used to. She unlocks your other wrist and you sob as the Beyond flows back into you, as strongly as it did before. For the first time since you’ve been taken, you’re somewhere like home. “There there,” Tenra says, patting your back. “I know it’s a little overwhelming, but we only have so much time for this lesson. Can you show me your fire?” You pull hard on the Beyond and it wraps around you like a cloak and when you breathe you feel like you’ve finally surfaced. You have your magic back. You can hear the whispering of demons promising you power clamoring for your anger. You push them back, focusing on your love for your clan. You can’t be a Keeper if you lose yourself but you absolutely can show her your fire. The templar knocks the Beyond out of you again, before you even remember she’s there. They wrestle the cuffs back onto you when you’re forcibly reminded, again, that without magic, you’re just a kid whose smaller than average and blind in one eye. You’re not done crying for a long while after that, curled up in a ball in the corner while more adults gather at the other end of the room to talk about what to do with you. Enchanter Tenra explains to you later that they were maybe hasty in letting you have your magic back so soon. Clearly you know more than they expected, so they’ll move you up to study with the older children but it’ll be strictly book learning. They want to make sure you can get used to the circle first. When they’re sure you’re not going to hurt anyone, then they can take the cuffs off. You stare the Enchanter in the eye then. For the first time since you’ve gone silent, you wish you could talk. You want to beg them to change their minds, plead for them to stop hurting you, but what could would that do? They don’t care about who you are or what you think. The corners of your mouth waver uncontrollably as you try not to cry. The enchanter looks away first. You need to find a way to escape. You can’t live like this. The tower takes to calling you Dalish, since you’re not talking and you haven’t told anyone your name. You don’t mind it. No one can say they don’t know who you are at least. The one Dalish elf in the circle, even if you don’t have vallaslin and you won’t look people in the eye. As loathe as you are to admit it, you are starting to get used to the circle. You’re eating more regularly. You refuse to do the work they give you, but you try to listen, even if learning more about magic reminds you of Keeper Sariandi. The other apprentices don’t care for you much. There’s a lot of rumors about you, most of them pretty far from the truth, though you bristle at the ones who think it was your clan who cast you out. You don’t want to tell them what happened either. They try to bother you and get a reaction out of you, but you don’t want to give them what they want. If you tell them and they feel bad for you- if you make friends- the adults will think you’re settling in. You don’t want friends. You don’t want the circle to have any part of you. It’s a surprise though, when the elf from the first day, Herlyn, steals over to your bunk one night when everyone else is asleep. She’s nervous, stumbling over her words a little, but she tells you that she doesn’t abide by bullies and if you ran into trouble she would protect you. Is this some kind of trap? You look up at her, her eyes glinting silver in the dark and watch her wince as she looks at your blind eye. You stare at each other in silence before Herlyn retreats. That’s the end of that you think, but she seems to latch onto you after that. She stops the other apprentices from throwing things at you, shares her dessert at the dinner table. She even volunteers to help you with your homework, even though you refuse to do a lick of it. The adults seem to take this as a sign of improvement and they start taking off your cuffs again, but only for your practice sessions. You still burst into tears, when you feel the touch of the Beyond, but you don’t try and fight your way out, not anymore. One way or another those cuffs will end up on your wrists again, and you’d rather not suffer through the fear of being held down again. They whisper about making you tranquil, which you’re not really what it means, only that it’ll handle your emotions and outbursts. They say you’re too young, that you’ve had it rough very recently, and that they can’t make a child tranquil for being a child. You know what Tranquility is. Keeper Sariandi told you about how the shem cut their mages off from the Beyond, burning away what makes them people. Now that you’re here, you’re not sure if there’s a real difference between a circle mage and a tranquil one. That changes when you get sent on a supply run, with a list of items to get from Nubbins, the Tranquil mage in charge of inventory. He’s got the mark of a sun pressed into his forehead, and his face doesn’t twitch as he watches you come in. You stand there silently, watching each other. Unlike the other adults, he doesn’t ask you to do things or try and move quickly, or even speak first. You hand him the list, which he takes inventory. When he speaks, he speaks without a hint of emotion in his voice, turns to obey without hesitation. He’s like a puppet with invisible strings. It’s probably a lot easier for the templars to deal with a mage who doesn’t feel anything. You wonder who he used to be. You blink, and your stomach drops suddenly as you realize they probably did this to him to make him more manageable.

The same thing they want to do to you. You take the supplies and return but you have to stop in the stairwell until you stop shaking. Sometimes you feel like you’re the only sane person in the tower. Sometimes you feel like maybe you’re just crazy because no one else blinks an eye at things like Tranquil mages. Every other lesson underscores the risk of magic and how dangerous it is and how evil apostate mages are and how they dance naked in the woods at night performing blood magic. It’s ridiculous. You’re an apostate mage, you learn, even if you’re in the circle right now, and you’ve never done blood magic. They teach you the signs of how to spot maleficarum. It’s a special kind of evil that draws from mortal life instead of the Beyond. It’s powerful but it weakens the mage, making their normal castings weaker as their connection to the Beyond withers. You’re supposed to report any suspicious wounds or magic to the enchanters. Despite yourself you find yourself interested. You’re not connected to the Beyond anymore, not with the cuffs digging into your wrists. If blood magic didn’t need a connection to it- if it was possible for you to escape with blood magic- you’d do it without a doubt. Even if it cripples you. You can’t ask Herlyn. She’d probably tell the enchanters the first chance she gets. She’s friends with one of the sisters- she tried to get her to talk to you but you don’t want anything to do with the Chantry. You can’t trust her. You can’t find books about it without triggering suspicion, and they keep any sharp objects far away from the mages. The spikes into your wrist don’t let any blood fall-they’ve healed completely every time they’re removed and there’s nothing shed when they put them back in. Something about them must be healing the wound so you can’t draw blood. There must be something powering whatever healing spell it’s using. Lyrium? Not with it digging into your skin. You would have gone mad by now. The only other thing that can power magic though is- Blood. The cuffs are using your blood to heal the wounds it inflicts. It’s making you constantly use blood magic to heal a wound it constantly inflicts. That’s what’s wrong. That’s what’s cutting you off. You have to stand and pace then, lock your fingers behind you so you don’t try and rip the cuffs from your wrists. For every lesson about the evils of blood magic, they apparently don’t have a problem with making you use it if it helps them. Now that you think of it, the phylacteries are made from blood. Weren’t they blood magic too? There was nothing, nothing worth saving in the circle. You want to tear it all down, dig your fingers and bloody them into the mortar and rip each stone out of the wall. You want to run in the rubble of the tower. You want to scream in the faces of each Enchanter and demand to know how they could do this to you. You want to throw every empty assurance and backhanded compliment into the Chantry sister’s faces. Instead you scream into your bedding and sob, thankful the dorms are mostly empty. You have to keep it together or they’ll make you Tranquil. You have to get out of here before you’d rather jump from a tall window than continue on. You don’t know why this is so surprising to you, that the chantry was using blood magic. There was already so much of it built on such weird ideas it’s not a stretch to think they would have to use those kinds of methods to keep everyone in line. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if there turned out to be a high ranking branch of chantry blood mages dedicated to brainwashing everyone to believing in the maker. But this did mean you could use blood magic. You had been, unconsciously and unwillingly, but you’ve been using blood magic this whole time. You wonder if you can stop. You wrap yourself into your blankets and try to breathe and focus. You try to feel the drain of mana- no, of blood, understand how it feels, of how that cuff is using you. You start to get it, eventually. It’s barely a prick, not a lot of power, or you would have noticed this before. You can’t make it stop though, not with your skin pressed up against the metal of the cuff. It’s an incessant, constant pull. But this is what blood magic feels like. You know that now. You’ll teach yourself blood magic. They kept sharp objects from you, yes, but there were a lot of books and papers that you could cut yourself of. It’d be barely a drop but you could work with that to start. It takes you a couple tries, but you manage to slit the side of your finger with the edge of a book. A perfectly plausible explanation for a perfectly plausible cut. It’s not more than a drop of blood, but you feel the murmur of power in it and when you pull on it, you create a spark at the tip of your fingers, but not much more. Still. It’s something. You take a deep breath as you start to feel something like hope. It becomes somewhat routine. You go to your lessons, only half listening. You have practice with Enchanter Tenra and quietly accept the cuffs again at the end of each session. You cry less now. Herlyn tries to help you with your homework but gets bored with you frequently. Every time you think she’s going to leave for good, she comes back the next day. You take books out on enchantment to read during the day and cut yourself on the pages at night. No one notices what you’re doing. You find spells that break and weaken metal. It’s not a heavy metal. Not too thick. You don’t think it would take that much blood to break. Maybe you don’t even need to break it all the way. You just need the healing spell to stop, though you would like to remove the spikes out of your wrists. The cuffs are spelled for protection against abrasions you think. It doesn’t matter how much you rub them against the stone work, the metal doesn’t take any scratches on its runic surfaces. You’ll need a spell that can make it past those protections, something with just enough force that can just score a line in the runes. You’ll need to figure out how to get that power. You can make a tiny force blade with the blood a paper cut nets you, but it’s not strong enough to break those protections. Smaller then, with the same force. No, even smaller. Your control has to be perfect. You test the spell, a tiny needle of force, against your cuffs, right next to the keyhole. It’s barely noticeable, but it leaves a hole. You smile, for the first time since you arrived. You can get out like this. But you don’t just have to get past the cuffs. You need to get past the templars and enchanters and stone walls. And once you’re out you have a phylactery you need to destroy. You need a plan. You can’t get through the doors. It’s too well guarded. There’s always at least four templars hanging around there. The answer comes to you on your next supply run. Acorns as spell components. No one would miss a small handful, you’re pretty sure. You try not to think about what might happen if they caught you. You take three and slip them into your pockets. Where would you break out from? Somewhere that didn’t have very many templars. Breaking through the walls would be noisy and you only had one shot at this. The apprentice washroom in the middle of the night. It doesn’t turn out to be the best spot. The stones are held much closer together there, magically waterproofed. Plus too many people come in and out. There’s too high a chance someone will ask you why you’re burying an acorn in the wall. There’s only a few places that are unfrequented enough for you to actually spend time digging into. You pick an unused study room and grind away at the mortar with a fork you took from the dining hall. You can’t just disappear for hours and hours either, before people come looking for you. You steal away when you can, to scrape away at the wall. It gives you time to try and put together the rest of your plan.

Someone will notice, no matter what you do when you break the wall. It’ll be too noise. You’ll need a distraction, but you’re not sure what. You’ll have to be in two places at once and you don’t have that kind of magic. Can you ask Herlyn? No. That’s just falling into the circle’s trap. You can’t let there be any loose ends.

In the end you can’t think of something that will let you make a distraction and a hole at the same time. You have to make your way past Lake Calenhad anyway, after you break the wall. It wasn’t as though templars in their heavy armor could immediately swim after you.

It’s a problem if they can take the time to find a boat and still be able to see you though. Not to mention the phylactery would lead them right there. You need to get a head start on the templars if you’re going to get away for good.

The apprentices would whisper to each other about monsters in the lake, creatures mutated from failed potions apprentices dumped in the lake. You don’t know how much of that is true, but you’re not sure you want to swim in it, not with holes in your wrist. You’ll just have to heal yourself before you jump.

You find a mist spell you can use to give yourself cover. You’re not going to try stealing your phylactery from inside the tower. It’s probably the best guarded spot in the place. They’d be using it to hunt you down. It would be easier to grab it then.

Your head is so full of your escape you don’t notice what else is going on. You have two out of three acorns in the wall and a hole barely dug for the third when Enchanter Tenra pulls you aside from class one day and warns you that the examinations are coming. She tells you that you have to do better than you’ve been. She says she knows you’re better than this but if you fail these exams, the chances will go up that they’ll make you Tranquil. You blink twice, then look down.

You won’t be here for that long. If you’re here long enough to go through the Harrowing everyone keeps talking about, you’ll hand your body to the spirits without complaint.

They move you all to a different room to take the written part of the exam. To prevent cheating, they say. That way no one could enchant their desk to tell them any answers or whatever. To your surprise, it’s the room you’ve been digging acorns into.

The room now is lined with long tables with a written test set up at each seat. You pick one close to the acorns. Was two enough? Your heart races. Two acorns should be enough.

There would be no distraction, but there would be chaos, with all the other apprentices around you. That would trip the templars up. It’s not the plan, but you’re not sure you’ll get a better chance.

All you need to do now is to break the cuffs without drawing attention. At least everyone else will be focused on their tests.

You gather your nerve as you take a few deep breaths. You lace your fingers together, clutching them tightly, trying to stop from shaking. If you fail- If you don’t make it- you don’t know what they’ll do to you. You’re not sure how much worse it can be. They’ve taken your clan, your family, your magic, your clothes, your eye, your voice.

You know the punishments they dole out to maleficarum. Will they make you Tranquil too? You could lose your mind still. You sniffle, wipe your eyes, and try to put it behind you. If you don’t try to break out, you’ll spend the rest of your life in the circle. If they catch you and don’t immediately take your mind too, you’ll just throw yourself down the tower stairs and hope you break your neck.

You slide the edge of the sheet against the side of your hand, barely noticing the sliver of pain. Blood seeps from the cut. You can sense the power seeping from your skin. You hunch over your test, slip your wrist under the table. Your teachers aren’t watching you in particular, just running sweeps around the room.

You duck your head again, before you can meet anyone’s eye and score a line across your cuff. The pain in your wrist immediately begins to intensify as blood rolls down your arm. You use it to do it again, stronger, and your metal cuff clatters to the ground.

There was so much power in blood. You can see why people get hooked on it. Another force blade tears through your other cuff, leaving a slice up your arm as well. Red drips onto your test, beckoning to you, but you let go of the blood and reach for the Beyond and it holds you like a song. Like a home.

You stand, staring straight up at the wall where you buried two acorns. You’re going home. The wall cracks, splinters and bursts, spraying gravel and books and stone everywhere as trees sprout suddenly from crevices much too small for them. Roots curl around stone pulling them over and down as their misshapen trunks fall to the ground.

Screams fill the air as you clutch your chest. You stumble towards the hole you made, but that spell drained you more than you thought it would. You have to gasp, because suddenly there’s an incessant buzzing in your ears as spirits beg you to pull on their power. You shove them all back as you focus on home, grabbing the stone with a blood-slicked hand when there’s a shout at the door.

Templars push their way through screaming apprentices and immediately burst out with cleanses. You’re out of range, but if they were this close already, you didn’t have the headstart you wanted. You were in big trouble with this.

As you turn to leap out the hole, you spot Herlyn, standing, apparently unaffected by the cleanse, between you and the soldiers. She blasts the incoming templars with a cone of icy magic, freezing them into place.

You blink, stunned. She helped you?

“HERLYN!!” one of the teachers shrieks. Herlyn blinks, as though she can’t believe what she just did. She kept her promise about protecting you when it really, actually mattered. She still stands there dumbfounded, and if she doesn’t come with you, she’s going to be in so much trouble.

You wet your lips as something loose from your chest. You think you can talk this time.

“Are you coming or what?” you demand. Your voice is rusty and hoarse and you hold out a bloody hand for you to take. Herlyn looks up at you for a stunned split second, before she snaps out of it, scrambles forward over the tables and chairs, and grabs your hand.

#dragon age au #daginy drabbles #long post

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

Text

Dragon Age AU

tw: child abuse, general Circle of Magi fuckery

When you were four years old, a spark fell from your head, slid down your spine, ran cirlces around your arm and jumped from your fingers, and set your bedspread on fire.

Your mother had beaten it out of the bed, and then slapped you across the face. Just as you reeled backwards, tears already springing to your eyes, she clutched at you again, crying into your hair. You’d never seen your mom cry before-

She was so sorry, she said. You just couldn’t do that anymore, not where people could see- otherwise they’d take you away, and you didn’t want that did you? You didn’t, and so you kept that lovely spark close to your chest, even though it grew everyday.

Your mother tried to help you learn, trying to guide you into keeping control, to never trust your dreams, or lose your temper- you learned how to take care of it yourself, as you watched others from the alienage, that had that spark get taken away by soldiers in shining armor.

When you were six, you started helping your mother- when she took wallets from pretty ladies in silks and jewels, you distracted them by being adorable, which people said you were a lot.

You were less adorable at ten, when you were shooting up like a weed, skinny and tall, and holding onto your temper was starting to get harder when all you wanted to do was beat the snot out of Shaeli who thought they were better than you, just cause they had two parents, and they had more money, and they were going to leave alienage to look for the Dalish.

You didn’t know what was so great about the Dalish anyway. Whose pockets would you pick if you were running around in the woods? Your mom said they were stuck up snobs who thought they were better than you too, so that, you reasoned, meant Shaeli was perfect for them and that she should leave to see them immediately.

You grabbed her and she punched you in the face and when you went tumbling to the ground, the spark fell out of you again and set her clothes on fire. The next day, the soldiers in shining armor came to see you.

They were going to take you somewhere safe, where you could practice magic safely, with other people who could do the same. You would have food to eat every day, and clean clothes to wear.

It didn’t sound so bad, really, and they promised your mom could visit you, so you agreed. Your mom gave you a hug good bye and told you, you would never see her again.

You didn’t realize how true it was until you were eleven, and your mom didn’t show. They said she could visit! Why wasn’t she? Did she hate you now that you left her?

You got mad, and you stayed mad, to the dismay of your teachers.

You had been doing badly in your studies- the squiggles on the page didn’t mean anything to you and you had to pretend and guess if you didn’t wanna get laughed at and you really would rather throw a book at pompous faces than try to read it. x You weren’t very good at keeping your temper anymore and the templars could cleanse you all they wanted- they couldn’t cleanse a fist to the face, or a nicked pocketbook.

The templars beat your stupid ass a lot harder than your mother would, but it never quite cures you of your dumb teenager mouth. They tell you if you don’t shape up you’ll get put to that sun shaped brand that’ll cut you off from the Fade, which just makes you angrier.

One of the chantry initiates took pity on you, helped you get to the healers, sat you down and made you read until the weird squiggles started making sense to you.

Alnica told you that the templars lied, that your mom wasn’t actually allowed to visit, and when you got mad at her, she just nodded and said she was sorry that the Circle sucked. She said that she was raised in the Chantry orphanage, raised to be a sister, and it wasn’t all that easy for her to leave either, because she had nowhere else to go, but if she could make the Circle suck a little less, maybe that’d be okay.

You became friends then, and things got a little easier. And they stop talking about making you Tranquil as you got better at studying and you weren’t blowing off the handle all the time.

You made more friends, and it turned out you were pretty good at magic after all- you were just really bad at reading. And you get your ass beat less, which is a nice bonus.

You miss your mother, you rankle at not being able to get outside- but you know only the best mages get to leave the tower, so you work hard and you grind your teeth and you wait.

When you’re seventeen, you meet your first Dalish elf. New arrivals aren’t all that rare- but this one is old. Most newcomers were babies, or young children, you were on the older side when you came. They look like they’re twelve or thirteen or something, round and baby faced.

You caught a glimpse of them struggling as they’re brought in, still dressed in strange Dalish robes. They’re so small it doesn’t look like it’s all that hard for the templars to bring them in.

The rumors abound about them- they’re a Dalish princeling found to have magic and cast out of the tribe, the last survivor of a great battle that sought refugee in the Circle- you don’t know what to think, but the only one’s who would know are the templars and they won’t tell you jackshit. You never paid too much attention to the tales of the Dalish when you were a child, only that they thought they were better than the city elves.

It’s hard to think that when you look at them, curled up on their bunk, cramming up against the wall, with their blankets wrapped around them tightly. The younger kids had swarmed them with questions earlier, and all they had done was duck their head into their blankets and hide until one of the older apprentices ushered them away.

They hadn’t moved after that. There aren’t that many other elves in the Circle, and you know Chiera already doesn’t like the Dalish and Hiplen’s just an asshole.

Well, you’re an asshole too, but you’re a nice asshole. The others will come poking around eventually but you think maybe you’ll give friends a shot first. The Dalish elf doesn’t seem to agree.

You ask if they want food or help or directions, they just keep their head buried in their blankets and eventually you give up. You don’t know what their problem is! Like yeah, the Circle kinda sucks but it’s not all that bad, and they’re just making things worse from themself.

It’s not just you- they also don’t seem to do much at all. It takes the adults standing right there for them to get them to even eat, and in class, they sit there, staring into the distance with their book closed on the desk. You wonder if Dalish elves know how to read. Or maybe they thought they didn’t need the material taught in class.

It takes a week before the sympathy for newcomers wears off and Dalish (they haven’t told anyone their name, so they just become Dalish) starts getting gossip.

They don’t really change, not really, but you see that the way people see them does. People stop thinking it’s because they’re sad just because they came when they’re older or because they’re Dalish and everyone knows the Dalish are snobs, or maybe that they’re just slow, or that they were already secretly Tranquil.

You’re not sure. They don’t have the sun on their forehead, after all, and you don’t think Tranquil would care enough to hide it. But all they do is lie around all day, and they haven’t said anything, so how do people even know what they’re thinking?

That’s when you notice how afraid they are. You weren’t scared at all when you first came- excited to explore this new place full of people who had the same spark as you- but a lot of people come wary, crying and afraid. You thought they were just sad, but when you watch them closely, you see them flinch just a little, whenever someone speaks too loud or flails in their general direction.

They don’t look anyone in the eye. They look down or away, let their growing mop of hair cover their gaze. You don’t know how they can see anyone approach to know to flinch. You ask Alnica about it and Alnica asks some other people and rumor has it that it was Aubade who brought them in, and everyone knows Aubade’s a real piece of work, even the other templars.

You don’t like bullies and templars could be the worst ones there were, so one night you sneak over to Dalish’s bunk and whisper to them that if they ran into any trouble, any at all, you’d protect them. Dalish looked at you then, the first time you get them to look up at you and you start because their right eye is cracked like shattered glass, like someone spelled it with cold and it never melted.

They still don’t say a thing.

You don’t give up though. Most the others have stopped trying to make friends, and taken to muttering behind their back, but you slip them your dessert sometimes. You even volunteer to help Dalish with their homework, when Enchanter Risperin taps his podium impatiently and asks for a tutor, and you’re like a hundred percent goddamn certain you’re not exactly his first pick, but you’re also the only one who actually raises their hand.

You’re going to be a goddamn saint, about it, and you’re determined that it’ll pay off eventually!

They still don’t talk to you. They haven’t breathed a single word.

Dalish isn’t exactly getting great marks either, with them spacing out every class, and never lifting a hand to do their homework.

You’ve never even seen them cast even though the enchanters take them into their private offices to tutor them. Sometimes you wonder if they’re even a mage, but if they weren’t why the fuck would they be in the Circle?

Alnica tries too, but she’s got even less luck. They won’t look at her at all.

For months and months, they never say a word, but at least they eat and sleep, and they’ll look at you, and you wonder what they’re seeing with their one good eye.

It’s really like trying to be friends with a ghost.

You’d love to say you never got bored, or frustrated, or wanted to try something just to get a reaction out of them, but you promised, you promised you’d protect them, and you’re pretty sure they’d need protecting from you if you started needling them.

Besides, the others in the tower do that already, and they don’t get anything but flinches anyway. You intervene when the other apprentices get shirty with them, and your rep takes a hit, but you did promise.

You’re doing book tests and the room is drop pin silent, so everyone hears the crack.

You’re not sure what it is at first- someone breaking their graphite? But it happens again, and something goes clattering to the ground and the enchanter frowns from front of the room, and when you look back, Dalish is standing, and they’re goddamn motherfucking looking up.

On their desk are the broken remains of metal bracelets that you’d seen around their wrists, that you never took notice of and as you feel the Fade stir, you think maybe that’s the reason you’ve never seen them cast.

Enchanter Risperin opens his mouth and raises his staff but it’s too late- the wall explodes, and you see daylight and smell fresh air for the first time in seven years.

Screams erupt in the air, and you freeze as thick wooden tendrils (roots, they’re roots, and you remember all of a sudden, that great tree, the vhenadahl in the alienage, your home-) erupt from the mortar, pulling away stones.

Dalish turns pale and sweats with the effort, but they’re already moving towards the hole and you find yourself moving with them, one step at a time. Templars burst into the room, and there are more screams as several of them throw out cleanses.

You’re both out of range when it hits, but several of the apprentices scream as the mana gets drained right out of them. Dalish scrambles to the hole they made. You don’t even think about it- you blast the incoming templars with cold, freezing them before they make it halfway across the room. You catch a couple of apprentices too, and there’s more screams.

You hear the enchanter scream your name, and for a second, you see your life flash before your eyes, because you are so so fucked but then you hear a strange voice say-

“Are you coming or what?”

It’s raspy with disuse and it’s Dalish, standing on the edge of their hole, holding a hand out for you to take, eyes burning, and for the first time you think, that, you know?

Maybe they aren’t twelve.

#DALISH IS DAGINY #IF THAT WASNT ABUNDANTLY CLEAR #dragon age au #herlyn drabbles #daginy drabbles

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

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Dragon Age AU pt 2

Aka Dalish/Daginy’s part, but it got long so it’s part 1 of part 2

Aka Tang Regrets Not Naming These Things More Clearly

tw: child abuse, murder, kidnapping, torture, shit’s bad yall.

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Trouble was brewing, and fast.

The clan moves swiftly as it can as you run through it. Elrin and Horath round up the rest of the hunters to roll up the tents as Hahran Kilria ushers the children to the nearest aravel and put out the fires as Poleri leads the halla back in line. Jalran had broken hisleg after falling off a cliff just a week before- Telrali helps him along to get her to safety. Lentlas shoves weaponry at her apprentice as she hurries to pack up her workshop, gathering elfroot and raw ironbark into whatever chests and boxes are at hand.

The humans are coming.

The shemlen had wandered too far near the camp, and the hunters did as they do- they killed one of them as a warning. What they didn’t know was that he was the son of a lord- which Keeper Sariandi explained to you was something like the First of a clan, for the shem, and the Lord would want revenge.

You’ve heard all the stories about how little the humans care for the Dalish- you’re the First, after all, all the stories would be yours to look after one day- and you know the Keeper’s afraid the humans will come to kill you all.

“Daginy! Lethallen!” you hear Lystic call your name and you whirl around. “Aren’t you coming?” he calls.

“Keeper wants me!” you call, nearly tripping over your own feet as you turn back the way you came. “We’ll be there soon!” you call over your shoulder.

This end of camp is all but gone now, nothing but holes in the ground where tent poles used to be. You see Keeper Sariandi standing at the edge, already lifting her staff, brush and ferns sprouting at her feet.

“Keeper!” you call, as you run towards her. She turns slightly, and smiles, and you throw yourself in her arms. “You called for me?”

The Keeper holds you tight, and when you look up at her, her vallaslin traces the worried creases in her face.

“Yes, da’len,” she says. “I will need your help with the concealment spell. It will be faster with the two of us.”

You let her go, bounce back a few steps, and look at the trampled ground.

The concealment spell would grow forest brush, loosen the soil and make it look like the clan had never been here, and thus, much much harder for shem trackers to find you. It wasn’t a spell that took a very long time, but there’s a lot of ground to cover.

You’ve helped with this before, but never with such a tight deadline. You have to keep focus though. Your connection with the Beyond is stronger than Keeper Sariandi’s- you could do it faster, if you could just keep your focus.

Together, you swing your staves and chant, the power of the Beyond flowing through you, through your mind, your body and into the ground, awakening the life that lay sleeping beneath the earth.

You walk forward as the spell activates, watching as ferns and shrubs sprout and grow from underneath your staff. You see sweet briar and ivy, the new sprouts of willow and fir. The forest grows behind you as you and the Keeper hide the remains of your camp.

You’re so focused on your spell, that the noise almost skips past your notice, but the Keeper puts a hand out.

“Wait,” she whispers, ears swiveling and when you listen again, you hear the clink of metal.

It’s the humans. Your heart skips into your throat, and as you jump backwards, humans in armor charge.

“Da’len, run!” Keeper Sariandi cries, already casting. The forest you just created starts tearing its roots out of the ground, wrapping around the shem. You hesitate- you can run, disappear into the earth- but you don’t want to abandon your Keeper, and you hesitate a moment too long because one of the humans with a flaming sword on her chest leaps forward and a wave of energy crashes hard into your chest and knocks the wind- no- not just the wind-

It knocks the Beyond out of you. You’ve never not felt it before and you cry out as your connection shrivels.

You run but you as hard as you try, you can’t reach the Beyond. One of the soldiers barrels into the Keeper, knocking her to the ground. He swings his sword and there’s blood and you sob as a gauntleted hand grabs you and hauls you backwards, and an armored elbow tucks under your chin and pulls you hard against the metal chest of the shem.

These have to be templars. You’ve heard about how the shem keep their mages under lock and key and how they have chantry soldiers trained to counter magic. You never quite believed it until now.

You screech as you struggle, trying to kick at armored shins, yanking on the arms that hold you still.

“Hurry up,” the shem says, her voice clear and cold. “The cleanse won’t last forever and I don’t want to end up holding an abomination.”

An abomination? The shem word for abela lasa, you think. Would you do it? You’ve never ever been tempted, but you’d do it now if you could even reach the Beyond. Keeper Sariandi isn’t moving, even as the blood seeps from her neck and into the ground, and you just want her to pull that blood back in, somehow, and wake up and help you get rid of these shems, and if a spirit could promise that-

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” one of the templars grumbles.

Someone grabs your flailing arm and holds it out. What- what are they doing to you? You can barely see over the templar’s arm but you catch a glimpse of a metal cuff, thin, with inscriptions of some sort written on the inside and terrifyingly, a spike pointing inward right at the clasp.

You kick harder and try to pull your arm away, but the templar closes it around your wrist, the spike piercing skin, and it hurts- it hurts and you can feel it in your wrist, and it’s not coming out, you can’t take it out-

You shriek as the second cuff fastens on, the needle pressing into your wrist, and it hurts and it hurts. They pull your hands together and loop a rope through the metal rings that serve as the clasps and tie your hands in front of you, and finally, let go.

You collapse into the dirt, holding your wrists to your chest as they throb. Why did they do that to you? Chains with spikes on the inside? The shem were really as monstrous as the stories told. The templar holds the other end of your rope, and you wonder for a moment if they weren’t trying to enslave you again.

“Oi, cut me loose here, won’t you?” One of the shems who was downed by the Keeper’s spell still has a root wrapped around his legs. “The rest of them are still around here I reckon and I don’t wanna be trapped down by a damned root if arrows are gonna come slingin through woods.”

They want the clan. You have to warn them, get back to them somehow. You have to get yourself out of this and get help for the Keeper- what would the clan do without its Keeper and its First?

Keeper Sariandi still hasn’t moved, and you scramble closer to her as you can with your limited freedom.

It’s an effort that the templars ignore, and you crawl to her side, ignoring the pain putting weight on your wrists brings them. You put your shaking hands on her bloody neck when you realize her skin is already cold.

She’s dead.

“No no no no,” you mutter as sobs rise to your chest again. You can’t lose Keeper Sariandi. She was like your mother, she still had too much left to teach you, what would the clan do without her?

The templar that’s holding your rope turns her attention back to you, squatting so she can look you in the eye. She has cold eyes, bluer than you’ve ever seen a pair, and dark hair pulled back tightly.

“Where is the rest of your clan?” she asks.

They want your clan- Keeper Sariandi was right, they were going to kill you all. You weren’t going to tell them anything. You’re not going to say a word.

You look around at the human soldiers instead and count- there’s five of them, three of them dressed in rogue armor. It’s just a scouting party- they couldn’t take out the entire clan with just them.

This wasn’t the worst to come yet.

The templar reaches out and grabs you by the chin, and forces you to look back at her.

“Look at me,” she says with a patience that doesn’t quite match up with the strength of her grip on your face. You pull at her arm, lean backwards and you slip out of her grip. You aim a kick at her face and get a glancing hit- she hits back harder, her armored fist crashing into your cheek and knocking you back.

She reaches for you again and this time her armored hand closes around your throat. Not enough to choke you but she pulls you back up and makes you look at her again. You bring your trembling hands up to pry at her grip but you might as well lean on a tree to push it over.

“I won’t hurt you if you behave,” she says. “Now are you going to answer my question or not?”

The templar doesn’t look the least bit uncertain, her cold eyes boring into yours the promise of pain. You’ve never been more scared in your life. You’ve never felt so helpless, or alone.But you’d never give up your clan. You shake your head, the best you can.

The templar sighs, then grabs your finger and wrenches it backwards. White hot pain shoots up your arm as it breaks and you scream. She lets you go and you curl up in the dirt, cradling your hand as best as you can.

“Hey hey Aubade, c’mon,” one of the other soldiers say. “They’re just a kid, you don’t have to go that far.”

“The sin of magic knows no age,” Aubade- her name is Aubade- replies. “Besides, pain is the only thing these Dalish parasites will understand.”

You tremble on the ground as you try to figure out your next move. Can you use your magic yet? Without it, you don’t pose much of a threat at all,

You close your eyes, and catch a glimpse of that familiar feeling again, but there’s nothing. You’re completely cut off.

What did they do to you? Was this permanent? The templars talked like it was going to wear off- no- if it was permanent the shem would have amputated all their mages long ago.

It had to be- it had to be the metal cuffs. The spikes digging into your wrist- they have to be causing your connection to the Beyond to wither. You’re helpless, until you can take them off.

The templars finish pulling their friend out of the roots when there’s a chorus of whizzes and thuds and arrows sprout from the trunks of trees, clink off plate armor- one of the soldiers collapses, an arrow in the throat. It’s the hunters- they came looking for you.

Aubade lunges for you as you scramble towards them, grabbing you and pulling you up to use as a shield as you struggle, as a row of hunters emerge from the top of the hill, all with their bows drawn.

“Let them go.” It’s Elrin, the lead hunter. She steps forward slightly, her bow trained on the templars. “And maybe we won’t kill all of you worthless shem. Hiding behind a child?”

“They killed her!” you cry out. “They killed the Keeper!”

You see the notches of the hunter’s bows rise and fall as the news ripples through their ranks.

Aubade puts a dagger at your throat, and you still, feeling the point of the blade prick right under your chin.

“A single arrow gets loosed,” Aubade says. “We’ll kill this one too.”

“And then you will all die,” snarls Elrin. “Unless you are foolhardy enough to think you will win this fight.”

“No,” she replies. “But more of us will come, and you will be down both of your mages. Let us go in peace and perhaps you will see this little one again.”

She scores a thin line across your throat and you whimper as you feel blood dripping down your neck.

“Stop!” Elrin says. You can hear the note of fear in her voice. “Stop it!”

The blade pauses, and for a moment the battlefield is silent, then Elrin says, “Fine. But you must release them to us when you have retreated to your city. No further harm must come to them.”

“Agreed,” says the templar, and you watch the line of hunters recede as she drags you backwards into the woods.

As soon as you’re out of sight, one of the soldiers starts cackling. “Oh Maker, I saw my life flash before my eyes,” he says. “I think I need a fresh pair of trousers! Gotta credit you with that cool head of yours, Aubade.”

She ignores him, as she marches you forward blade still at your throat.

“If you try anything, little one,” she murmurs, singsong in your ear. “I’ll slit your throat open and give your corpse back to your people. Nod if you understand.”

You nod, breathless. You know there are hunters following you, watching, and if she follows through on her thread, the party of soldiers will die, but so will you. You don’t think it’s a bluff. You don’t think Aubade bluffs.

You walk for what seems like hours, Aubade never letting the blade stray from your throat. Your broken finger throbs and your wrists hurt and all you want to do is go home, but if you think about Keeper Sariandi- your hands are still sticky with her blood- you’re going to cry, so you just focus on moving one foot in front of another. It’s all going to be over soon.

You’ve never seen a human city before. Keeper Sariandi always made sure to steer the clan far away from known human settlements. You’d only gotten so close to Denerim because you had been trying to reach the fords of Amaranthine.

As it is, you gasp quietly when you see the walls. They’re enormous. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so big. They’re as tall as three or four aravels piled on top of each other. There’s stone tents- buildings, the Keeper called them- jutting up out from behind the walls because it’s built into the mountain. You never realized shem could build cities were so big.

You’re hauled out of the forest towards the city when you hear Elrin’s voice again.

“Let them go,” she says. “Run back to your city.”

Aubade whirls you around, clutching you close, the flat of the dagger pressed against your throat. You can’t see the hunters, but you know that they’re there, and that they’re going to do their best to take you back.

“So you can shoot us in the back before we reach the walls?” Aubade says. “I don’t think so. I will release them at the gate.”

“Careful, shem,” Elrin warns. “My arrow will find your throat if you make one wrong move.”

“I will bring up the rear,” Aubade replies. “My companions will go through the gate first, and then I will. Then you can have the child back.”

Elrin emerges from the trees, bow pulled taut, her face tense and drawn. There’s probably a dozen other hunters, still hidden in the trees.

“Then go,” she says.

You meet Elrin’s eyes and hold your gaze as you walk backwards, led by the templar. She paces closer, giving you the slightest nod and glancing up at the wall, which you guess has warriors and archers posted up too.

If only you had been paying more attention- if you hadn’t hesitated- you wouldn’t be endangering Elrin and the rest of the clan now.

The shadow of the wall extends further and further out in front of you as you get closer and closer to it. It’ll be over soon, you repeat to yourself. It’ll be over soon.

You hear the creak of dead wood and the squeal of metal on metal- the gates, you think. Aubade takes the blade from your throat and you brace yourself for a shove forward-

Her arm wraps around your throat instead, and she’s dragging, dragging you backwards as she runs and hauls you bodily with her.

Elrin gives an outraged scream and fires, and so does a dozen other arrows. Aubade grunts as one finds its mark- another one grazes your stomach, leaving a bleeding streak, as she pulls you past the gate and throws you to city streets.

“No!” you scream, scrambling to your feet and hurling yourself towards the gate, but one of the soldiers catches you, looping his arm around your neck, throwing you face first into the ground and pushing you down. You can’t stop from screaming when you land on your broken finger and the cut across your middle, and you sob helplessly into the cobblestone.

It’s not fair, she said she was going to let you go, she took away your magic, they killed Keeper Sariandi, you can’t fight adult soldiers without your magic, this wasn’t fair.

“Shit, Aubade,” says the soldier pinning you down. “Didja ever plan to let the kid go?”

“Of course not,” she says. “The teryn wants that clan exterminated, and they thought I would give them back their greatest weapon?”

They were going to hunt your clan down. They were going to kill them all. You have to- you have to do something, but the most you can manage right now is struggle.

“Well what’re we gonna do with them now?” he asks. “The Circle?”

“They’re young,” Aubade says, reaching a hand back to find the arrow in her shoulder. “I doubt they’re older than eleven. They will adjust.”

You’re not eleven. You’re fifteen, only three years away from getting your own vallaslin, and while getting mistaken for younger normally that rankled you, you think it might have just saved your life. They could have cut you down like they did the Keeper, spilled your blood over the ground. You bite your lip, hard.

You’re not going to beg. These shem wouldn’t give you two copper pieces for begging, and at the very, very least, you were going to keep your pride.

You were still alive. You were going to escape. You were going to find your clan. You were going to make it out of this somehow.

This wasn’t over.

This wasn’t even close to being over.

#daginy drabbles #dragon age au

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

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Heist. Pt 1

It takes you ages to plan. You're agitated constantly; your attention skips and jumps, you zone out, you get frustrated, you give up. But you have to get back on it, so you do. It's hard to concentrate with the imps around. You don't know them, not really. You don't trust them even half as much as Herlyn and Mysmus. They have the advantage in case it came to combat. It would not be all that difficult for them to tear you apart and you have a some difficulties controlling your imagination when you think about how easy it would be for any one of them to kill you. Tomie isn't so bad at least. He's an open book and his psi isn't offensive. You could probably pre-empt an attack and disappear. Nanako bounces around cheerily, but you're fairly certain she could crush your skull with a punch, much faster than you could run or even turn invisible. Vadaya's the worst. He's unreadable, and the ways he could kill you are basically only limited by imagination, which you have a lot of. You wouldn't have a chance as long as you were inside his range, which you were going to be. A lot. You don't exactly sleep the first day out of the base, and it takes about a week for you to finally trust they weren't planning on turning around and slitting your throat. And while you get why they're following you, you're not entirely sure why they don't bolt once they have Vadaya out of the base, and make their own way out. You know you're competent, most of the time, but you'd think highbloods would have a hard time taking orders from a younger, flinchy, hemoanon. You miss Mysmus. His absence was a serious ache. You missed his quiet humor, his steady presence, even the Heyfel sayings you were pretty certain he was just making up at this point to watch your nose wrinkle. You missed being able to reach out and grab onto that coat of his and tuck yourself into it when you were panicking, or afraid or really just because you felt like it. Between him and Herlyn, you actually felt safe.

But you don't exactly have room to complain. You did this to yourself, after all. You just didn't really expect it to turn out like this, when you burst in to rescue Vadaya. You didn't think it through and you have no one to blame but yourself. You just... panicked, really, at the idea that your side was doing something that terrible, insisted you do something about it and as they usually did, Herlyn and Mysmus followed. They were coming more frequently now, the panic attacks. When you're traveling, there's fewer places to escape to, when you feel the panic coming, and it's a whole new set of people you don't trust trying to learn your triggers. You don't explain why you can't bring yourself to eat rice or white fish, or drink soup. Nanako caught you once, when you tripped, which resulted in an immediate panic attack, and Herlyn had to get you somewhere quiet and tucked away from what you were sure prying eyes. It doesn't start an immediate coup, like you expected. Tomie insists on helping, up until Vadaya tells him to stop bothering you. Nanako doesn't say much about it, just puts herself between you and everyone else and makes sure you can get peace and quiet when you need it. After that it gets easier to trust them. You told Vadaya what happened to you, when you were trying to make him believe you wouldn't hurt Tomie. You're not sure if he told the others, and you're not sure if you should be grateful if he did. It's not exactly a walk in the park for him either. He's stopped taking care of his appearance. When you had found him he still had his hair trimmed and his beard shaved. He's got scruff now, and you don't think he's touched a hairbrush except when Nanako fusses at him.

He also gets about as much sleep as you do, you're pretty sure. You can't afford to sleep one to a room, not on your dwindling funds. The second Herlyn snores, or Tomie rolls over, you're awake. Sometimes you'll hear Vadaya sit up, after you both jerk awake, and you'll hear Vadaya shuffle quietly into the hall. Coffee is an investment, for the both of you. You settle into a schedule. You rarely stay in one place for more than a night. You separate and walk somewhat apart from each other so you don't look like one big group. Too many adults in one place draws attention, especially when none of them are in imperial dress. They look like draft dodgers than anything else. You keep to big cities where adults aren't uncommon, and you go out quite often with just Herlyn for company. You think you're boring the imps. When you do need them, it's a lot of standing watch thirty feet away from you as you talk to your various contacts. You have them handle some of the transactions- it'd look to weird for the child of a group to be making the decisions, but otherwise, there's not so much to do. You think Nanako is at least getting very antsy. But despite your doubts, you'll have something to do for them soon. You're pulling together a plan but first you're going to need some funds. You're running low. You clear your throat when you enter the hotel room you've rented out, and you see four pairs of eyes turn towards you. "I have a plan," you say quietly. "And I'm going to need help. You take a deep breath to try and ease away the nerves. "You're all okay with assisting me in the field, right?" you ask. "Of course, lah!" Nanako exclaims, her leg bobbling as she leans back in her chair. "We here for a reason, yes? Let us off the leash!" She gives an excited clap and grins at you. Tomie nods eagerly, and when you glance at Vadaya, he nods, impassive as ever. You really wish you knew what was going on inside his head sometimes. Herlyn just gives you a thumbs up and a grin. "Alright," you say, taking a seat yourself. "Our target is Gastra Hilben. She's the CEO of a security company that specializes in storage. She's got a couple private vaults in just about every major city. But she's got her headquarters here."

Tomie grins widely at the mention of vaults. "Never met a safe I couldn't crack! We're gonna steal all her stuff then yeah? Looking for something in particular?" You shake your head. "We're going to take her reputation," you say. "We don't have enough time to worry about fencing stuff." "Time? We're running out of time?" Tomie asks, looking mildly alarmed. "We've got enough money to stay here for a little less than a week," you say. "Then its sleeping on the streets for all of us." You really don't want that to happen. You and Vadaya wouldn't be sleeping at all, if that was the case. "Oh," Tomie says, deflating. "The goal here is primarily money," you say quietly. "But we're looking at an excellent opportunity for blackmail. Hilben has a lot of different clients who use her services to hide their secrets. Discretion is a big part of her business model." "Double pronged blackmail," Herlyn says, nodding approvingly. "You blackmail Hilben with her own clients." "They won't be very happy with her, for letting their secrets escape," you say quietly. Nanako shakes her head, clicking her tongue. "Scary, lah," she says. "Security will not be easy! How we getting in?" "We need recon first," you say. "First she had to let us in. Vadaya, can you make something that weighs and feels like a gold coin?" You look at him, and his brow furrows just slightly, pausing a moment, before he says, "I have not attempted such a thing." "Can you try?" You're not surprised. His constructs are all purple, there's been no point in trying to figure out if he can mimic something else. He focuses for a moment before he forms a large purple coin in his hand, his flesh one. He frowns, and it disappears before he tries again. This time, he seems satisfied and holds it out to you. You take the coin and consider it in your hand, nodding. You turn the coin over in your fingers and take a deep breath, then take the leap of faith. With a flourish of your own psi, you paint its purple color over with gold. Metallics and their shine are a little harder than just a color change, but it's nothing you can't handle. "Oh shit!" Tomie exclaims. "Was that psi? What did you do? Can I see?" You toss the coin over to him, keeping focus on it, and he ooos and aaahs and hands it over to Nanako, who bites it, then squints. "I have illusion psi," you say. "It's not actually gold. But whatever Vadaya can construct, I can make look real." You watch their faces as they nod. Tomie looks excited, Nanako a little more pensive, and Vadaya, who simply nods. "I'm asking you guys to keep this a secret," you say. "There aren't too many people outside this room who know about my power." "Not even the other rebels?" Tomie asks, and you shake your head. "Sipara knows I have psi," you say. "She just doesn't know what it does." "Secret illusions stay secret when no one thinks, ah! Little one makes illusions, lah," Nanako says, nodding. "We keep your secret." She looks to the others, who nod in turn. You take a shaky breath and try to believe they'll actually do it.

"Okay," you say. "So here's the plan."

#Daginy drabbles #reverse bad End au #heist pt 1

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

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BAD END: Intake Appointment

I rewrote this thing and it is now longer, more accurate, and also more horrible than before.

(tw: Suicide, torture, general horribleness)

——

They’ve got your scent now. It’s only a matter of time.

You haven’t slept, you barely eaten, and as far as you know, you’re the last one alive. You never thought it would be you, but you don’t exactly have the time to do much thinking at all.

Mysmus, Herlyn, Alnica….

What was even the point? The chances you would get away were so slim, but… as long as you were alive there would be something you could do. At the very least you were wasting imperial time.

You pant slightly as you jog down the damp alley full of garbage, until you find yourself a fire escape you can climb on, boosting yourself up from a radiator and grabbing onto the slick metal. You’re a little shaky, from not eating, but you manage to hoist yourself up to it anyway.

You still have the suicide pill but Herlyn made you promise not to take it unless it was your only other choice and not to have it in unless you were in the field. At one point it would have been too tempting to have it in all the time. Now, you’re probably too reluctant to put it back in. It burns a hole in your pocket, as you think about your friends, the ones who died so you could live.

You’re just about to make it up over the railing when you hear a howl that chills you to the bone, colder than the wind in any rain.

Horrorhounds.

Something hits you like a fly swatted, a flash of purple panel you don’t see coming, and it knocks you to the ground. You roll with it, staggering to your feet and turn invisible.

It’s Vadaya. You don’t need to glance backwards to know it’s him. His constructs are pretty iconic, and if he’s this close, you’re probably doomed. You don’t bother for quiet as you run down the alley way. You’re far enough as it is that sound probably doesn’t matter.

You hear Vadaya shout something in another language and the horrorhound comes charging after you. It howls again and you choke off a whimper as the sound sinks fear into your bones, the drop dead certainty that you, without a question, are doomed. You push yourself against a wall, shaking, still hidden as the dog gets closer. You can’t out run it. Your only hope is out hiding it- if you can even. You can’t disguise your scent.

With a shaking hand you reach for the pill. It’s in a small pouch that you have to work it out of. You watch the horror hound as it surveys the alley in front of it, its nose twitching as it sniffs you out.

As quietly as you can, you work the pill from the pouch, hold it in your palm, and just as you’re about to take it, the dog lunges and snaps its jaws around your knee.

There’s a crunch, and you shriek, your invisibility breaking as the horrorhound drags your leg from under you. It drags the rest of you too, and the cold pavement burns your grasping hand as you clutch tightly to the pill with the other.

Your blood- your proper hue is all over the place now. It’s a dumb thing to be worried about through the haze of pain, but the streak of orange that trails behind you means more than just loss of your hemoanonymity.

You come to an abrupt stop, shaking hard, staring up at a tall indigoblood, dressed in black and looking down at you with impassive eyes.

You’ve seen him several times now, more than he’s seen you. You’ve been in various disguises and hiding places, but that wasn’t going to fool the dog. “Xrus, kereñt,” you hear Vadaya say, standing over you. The dog drops your leg, and you cry out again as your knee takes the jolt.

He’s bending down, reaching for you. He wants you alive for some reason, otherwise he would have just killed you the minute you entered his range; you remember the pill in your hand and cram it into your mouth.

Vadaya moves faster- he seizes your chin before you can bite down and forces it open, shoving you further into the pavement. The pill falls to the back of your throat and you choke, but you’re pinned firmly to the ground- you grab onto his arms and convulse, he shoves metal fingers into your mouth, and-

Indigo eyes bore into you, this time framed in white paint- Aubade presses her hand over your mouth, leaning in as she traces your other eye with silver scissors, and you can’t- you can’t move you can’t- you can’t do anything, anything at all-

You shriek, struggling as Vadaya pulls the pill from your mouth and flicks it away. You don’t- you’re not, you’ve got- a knife, you forgot- you find it in your hands and strike with it, but the next moment Vadaya’s twists your wrist and you’ve lost that too.

He holds you still as he forms a purple cuff around your wrist. He pulls you up and flips you over and white hot pain shoots up your leg. He wrenches your hands behind your back and cuffs them and he binds your legs together as you sob and try to gather your scattered thoughts.

You’re running low on options, fast. You’re so scared, you’re so scared, you’re so scared. He wants you alive, it hurts it hurts. He’s going to take you, he’s going to take you back, you’re going to go back again and this time there really is no one alive who would help. Why did you wait so long to take the damn pill? They could have followed your trail to a corpse but no, you had to hold out to the last minute.

He reinforces your injured knee with a cast- yes, he wants you alive- why? The Magpies are destroyed, they already took Alnica, who had more information on everything than you, what else could they wring from you? So much so that Vadaya was bothering to save your knee and not just tie it off?

He hauls you up by the scruff of your neck and you violently wish you were bigger, stronger, so that you could make it harder than him. It seems effortless for him to haul you around, lay you out on a constructed gurney, fixing you down so that all you can do is shake and cry.

Why wasn’t he just culling you? Did Aubade still want you? She couldn’t kill Herlyn, maybe she’ll just take her revenge out on you. You can’t go back, you can’t. You hope she doesn’t have that kind of pull.

If they were going to haul you up in front of His Honorable Tyranny to make an example of you, they wouldn’t be bothered with a missing leg. No, if they wanted to keep you in fighting shape, they wanted to rehabilitate you. The thought makes turns the panic white hot and you struggle against your bonds. You don’t know much about the process, only that the empire will sometimes trot out some dead eyed former rebel and claim they saw the light and came to serve.

You’d really really rather die and you doubt it’s as easy or as painless as they claim. They’re going to hurt you, and hurt you badly, turn you against everything you’ve ever cared about and there’s just about nothing you can do about it. You hear yourself whine and whimper and you know you sound pathetic.

You catch the barest hint of disappointment in his look when he glances at you and you find your voice and snarl. “What, no fanfare?” Your voice is shaking, hoarse. It’s been a few nights since you’ve had anyone to talk to. “What kind of a clown are you?”

Vadaya pauses for a moment, and turns only ever so slightly towards you.

“As you can see,” he says. “I am not a clown.”

“Not for lack of trying I bet,” you snap back. You feel lightheaded with adrenaline as vitriol pours from your mouth. You know him well enough to push his buttons. “But the messiahs don’t like a freak of nature, right? Who even wants you? Your useless battery?”

You’re shaking still, but you pull Nanako’s shape out of your psi, and twist her expression into an ugly frown.

“What a little freak, lah,” you say, in a mockery of her pattern of speech. “Such pity pity pity, guess we’ll take.”

You don’t catch more than a glimpse of an orange eye as the constructs holding you shatter, and you hit the ground screaming, your hands free, your injured leg twisting. You don’t get a more than a second to flail, because a metal hand clamps around your throat and shoves you against a wall.

Vadaya’s face is twisted in fury as he cuts off your breath. You gape, grabbing his arm, as you feel blood thuds with undying pressure through your ears. The edges of your vision start to blur and darken- you’re dying, you’re panicking, but it’s not fast enough, if he stops-

He drops you. You scream a short, sharp burst, as your injured leg crumples beneath you, shaking, as your traitor body sucks air in greedily. It’s all you can do to clutch your throat as sobs wrack your shoulders. You’re a pathetic wreck and you’re running out of cards.

“You attempted to bait me into killing you,” Vadaya says, slightly out of breath, the tone just barely accusatory. It’s not fair. It’s not fair for him to act like you’re doing him wrong when- he squats down in front of you and your thoughts scatter in favor of terror, scrabbling backwards against the wall, for any kind of possible escape.

“No no no no nononono,” you mutter as he reaches for you again, bring your arms up as a flimsy barrier, trying to fend him off from touching you. “P-please- please, please no, please-” Your throat hurts, your voice muted and hoarse, but you try to talk, make sense of your last chances. “Please just- just k-kill me.”

He pauses for a moment, and so you push on forward, though you can’t discern what he’s thinking, not with the blank look on his face. You both know that you can’t get away anymore, not with him so close, or your leg this busted.

“I’m t-telling you right now,” you whisper. “It’s n-not worth- worth it. Whatever b-brainw-washing bullshit isn’t g-going to work, and I’ll j-just be t-tortured to, to death or- or uselessness, and it’ll be a waste of t-time and- and resources and-” you run out of words, and you glance up at him before you look back down.

“Please,” you breath. “Please.”

There’s a pause, and for a split second, you hope.

“That is not for either of us to decide,” he says.

You might as well not have struggled, for all the good that it does. He’s got a longer reach, he’s stronger- you’re so outclassed. For all your struggles, it’s humiliating how easy he can shove you back down, catch your flailing arms and pin them down at your side. He fixes you down, purple straps climbing over you and pinning you to a construct board. You can’t move. He’s taking you prisoner. You fight against the rising panic- you can’t move but you can still talk, mostly, kind of-

“You’re a f-freak,” you spit, but you sound weak between the stuttering and the hoarseness of your throat. “You r-really- really think you b-belong with the- the lowbloods? B-But what k-kind of a c-clown would-”

Your words fail as he reaches for you again. He takes the scarf from around your neck and stuffs it into your mouth, another band of purple securing it there.

Every breath you struggle to take leaves again with a muffled whimper as your chest heaves against the restraints. It’s happening again, they’re going to keep you alive to wring every little piece of use out of your body, and in the meantime you’re going to suffer, and suffer, and suffer. It’s all you can do to just clench your fists and claw at the construct board he’s set you up on, and it feels so pathetic, and you are out of options.

“Target acquired,” Vadaya says, touching his ear. Some kind of earpiece, you guess. “Route to coordinates. Medical care is required.” A pause. “No, not for me.”

No. No. You are not doing this. You do what you can, pulling as much of the cloth into your mouth as you can. It tastes like dirt and it dries out your mouth, but you force yourself to swallow what you can.

You strain against your bonds as you choke, trying instinctively to breathe, but the action of your breath sacs don’t bring in more air. You’re back in the water, suddenly, drowning, struggling, against zipties in a duffel bag as you sink into river.

You’re panicking again- your body tries to cough to rid itself of the stuff in your throat, but you can barely even move your head. Vadaya’s already ignoring your struggles, maybe you’ll get past the point of no return before anyone can notice.

“Animal bite and fractures on the left leg,” Vadaya says. “Possible complications from strangulation.”

He looks towards you, and frowns. You try and hold still, as your lungs try desperately for air.

“Target isn’t breathing,” he says, reaching for you again and the band around your mouth disappears.

He takes the scarf and pulls- you bite down and he wrenches your jaw back open- and slowly, painfully, the cloth eases back up out of your throat. You gasp, your traitor lungs inflating again, like you actually want to live. For all your distaste for killing, you know being kept alive would be worse.

“They swallowed their scarf,” Vadaya says. “I removed the blockage and they are breathing again. Medical assistance is needed immediately.”

You try to bite your tongue, but he’s watching out for it now and grabs your chin, keeping your mouth open as he constructs a bit between your teeth you can’t bite through.

He stares down at you, his hand just barely hovering over your throat you can feel every breath brush against it, and it’s not long before you can hear the sound of sirens.

You can’t help sobbing, excruciatingly aware of the inexorable approach of the empire. You want to scream, but what use would that be? All you can do is wait, stifle your panic, wait for an opening for you to get yourself dead. It’s your last hope.

—-

You don’t pull it off.

You’re under watch constantly, and every attempt you make at doing something is promptly stopped and fixed.

They don’t have a true mind controller, who would have reached into your pan and started rearranging, but the ones they do have make you eat and drink, walk around, keep you from starving yourself or getting bed sores. When they let you wake up, mind readers monitor your thoughts for any more suicide attempts. They run tests and measurements and surgeries, for who knows what- you can only tell by noticing what’s sore when you wake up and they’re not about to explain anything to you.

And of course, they torture you, until you can’t hear the name of what you were without panicking, but they’re careful not to leave marks and they’re careful not to go too far. It’s a five star stay compared to the last time you enjoyed the empire’s hospitality, but you wouldn’t want to make a return visit, you know, provided you ever leave again.

You’re not sure when you gave up, but you think you did, in the end. Your attempts trickle to a stop. You’re out of ideas. You’re out of strength. You’re so tired. You just want things to end. You’re just an absentee resident in your own body and you just want things to end.

Someone new comes into the room where they’re keeping you, a tall indigo with slicked back hair and white paint pulled down his face like lightning. A subbjugulator. He shakes hands with the cerulean mindreader whose been sitting in the corner and they exchange a few words before the clown sits next to your bed and looks at you.

You lean away. You don’t meet his eyes.

“Come on now, dear,” he murmurs. “Look at me now.”

You still don’t obey, and so he sighs and takes your face in both his cold, clammy hands and touches his greasy forehead to yours. You tense, pulling ever so slightly at the padded cuffs that keep you restrained. You can’t help but feel like prey, on the verge of being devoured. You close your eyes, the most resistance you can muster.

“You’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you, love?” he says, and you can see his eyes begin to flash from behind the thin shield of your eyelids. You gasp quietly, as his fingers tightens on your face, as he sinks psychic needles into your pan. “Don’t worry about it now. This is where you forget.”

The pain in your head gets worse, and worse, and worse, and then everything fades and fades and fades and for a brief bewildering moment-

You don’t know who you are.

You black out.

#daginy drabbles #bad end au #tw: suicide

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

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You need to drag this rock up the hill. It's so important that you drag the rock, up the hill. It's not an easy task, the rock keeps falling and you have to keep going down and getting it but you're trying. A hand brushes against your sweaty cheeks as you struggle. "Oh poor baby," Lyrian whispers in your ear, dragging her hands down your shoulders. "This must be so hard for you. It hurts doesn't it?" It does hurt, a curious ache in your head but it's not as bad as you're expecting, as you take one step and then another. But you stumble, and the rope slips out of your hands and you sigh and look at the rock falling back down the hill and there are hands grabbing you, keeping you from going back after it. "Stay with me," Lyrian whispers, cupping your cheeks in her hands and touching her forehead to yours. "Put down your burden. Don't worry about it again. Give up. Give up." She lets go but you're sinking, sinking into the ground, with the hands you can't escape pulling you into darkness, suffocating darkness, empty, a comforting, smothering void. You don't want to fight anymore, you're dying, you're paralyzed, you're hopeless as the ground swallows you whole. You wake up, tears streaming down your face as you try to stifle your sobs, pressing your hands to your face. What is wrong with you? Your shoulders shake and it becomes clear that you're fighting a losing battle, and you've probably already woken Vadaya, but that doesn't mean everyone else needs to wake up too. You pull yourself out of your pile as quietly as you can, and steal out of the room. You close the door behind you and you lean against the door and try to breath, but that breath turns into a hitch in your throats and you're back to muffling sobs. You slide down the wall to curl into a ball, as you shake. It's just the stress, probably, that you're dreaming so often, and dreaming like this. It's fine, though. No matter how many times you give up in your dreams, you can't do it when you're awake. You have too much riding on you for that. You hear footsteps down the hall, and immediately you freeze and turn invisible. You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your sobs, and lean into the door frame. Maybe who ever it was would pass without noticing you and your breakdown. The footsteps draw closer and closer and when you chance a look it's Vadaya. You guess you didn't wake him up after all. You realize belatedly you need to get out of the way if he's going back into the room when he stops in front of you and reaches for the knob. You push yourself out of the door, and crawl out of the way, but you must have made some kind of noise because Vadaya stops and turns to look around. "Who's there," he says, low. You can see the tenseness in his pose as his gaze sweeps through the hall- he is a soldier, after all. You hope he lets it go, chalks it up to his imagination, but instead his eyes glow purple as he forms a sword in his hand, and turns away from the door. You... are still in the way. You scramble to at least sitting position and Vadaya frowns, turning to follow the sound as you back against the wall and whisper, "It's me." He stands there, waiting with his glowing sword when you drop invisibility and scrub at your face. "Sorry," you say. "You scared me." For a moment you feel too vulnerable, curled up at the feet of large troll with a sword, but then he drops his psi as well. "I see," he says. "My apologies." There's an awkward beat as he stands there, unsure as to what to do. You're sure he can see the tear tracks on your face and your shaking shoulders, though you're not crying now. You're not sure what to do either. He doesn't seem to be inclined to simply turn around and leave you alone, which is what you kind of expected. "Are you alright?" He finally asks. You almost snort. He sounds so awkward about it, and you're pretty clearly not okay. He's probably just trying to figure out if you'll be in fighting shape the next night. "I'll just need a lot of coffee tomorrow," you whisper. You're so tired. You don't remember what it feels like not to be tired anymore. You put your head back on knees as more tears spring to your eyes and your shoulders shake. He's still standing there, watching, and you feel the need to explain yourself more or something. "It's just-" you start, and hiccup. "I just wish I was better already. But I'll be fine, sorry. Don't worry about it." You need to be able to handle things, and you can't, really, not like this. He doesn't move, still, and asks another question. "Do you... feel as though you should be better?" You look up at him in surprise, still sniffling. "I-" your voice breaks and you try again. "It's been half a sweep," you whisper. "I feel like I should." He pauses a moment, considering your words. You wonder if he thinks you weak for taking so long, but you can't imagine he feels anything but awful, no matter how he well he hides it. "You... are still functioning," he says finally. "You are still doing your duty to us." You nearly say, "Yeah, but for how much longer?" but you bite your tongue. Vadaya doesn't need to know how unsure you are of how safe you can keep your crew. You provide safety for him, and you can't just take that away because you're upset. You're still in charge. "Yeah," you say, and push yourself to your feet, your back to the wall. You can't look him in the eye as you do so, something inside you still expecting to get hit for trying to stand. "I'm- I'm going to take a lap- I- you should probably get what rest you can." You can't see if he nods, but you're already hurrying down the hall.

#Daginy drabbles #reverse bad End au

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

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Daginy: 16, Not Dead!

Daginy Chamae | Neuja City | 7 sweeps, 15 years old

You’re quickly overwhelmed, and outnumbered. Your face gets introduced to the concrete as your hands get pulled back behind you. You’ve definitely made to many mistakes this time around, and it’s probably gonna get you killed.

“That’s Arneas’ midget innit?” Gilras, the small time drug lord you’ve been following bends down, to look over at you. You stare up at her as you feel a ziptie close around your wrists. “He’s tryin’ to intrude on my turf?”

“J-just checking up on how you were doing,” you stutter. “It’s not- I can tell him there’s nothing going on- he knows where I am. It’ll be a declaration of war. I can help you even– I-”

She squats down at you and pats your head.

“Threw in with the wrong crew now, sweetheart,” she says. “Now I got no time for double dealing traitors, but war is what I want.”

Oh you’re dead, you’re so dead. You wanted the war too, technically. With a gang war on the streets, the policeradicators would be too busy to pay attention to what you were planning, but.. you weren’t planning on it starting like this.

“Bag ‘em and drop them in the drink,” she says, and her lieutenants pull out a duffel bag. “We don’t need Arneas on our ass before my say so.”

It’s not the first time you’ve cursed how small you are. You break a nose with a flailing foot, but they slap some tape on your mouth and slot you in the bag without too much trouble otherwise.

It’s suffocating in there, as you kick and struggle as you’re hauled away. You’re so fucking dead. The lieutenants around you joke and laugh, like they’re not about to murder you, and the tape muffles your outrage.

Your stomach drops as they swing the bag back and forth and send you swinging, and you can hear the wind whistling past the bag as you go up, and then down as gravity deserts you and you can feel yourself fall and fall and fall.

You hit the water like a brick, and scream as you think your shoulder breaks, or at least your upper arm, and a few ribs- tears run down your face as you hyperventilate as water seeps into the bag swallowing you up as you try to grab whatever air you can before you’re completely submerged.

You’re so so so so dead. You try, in that cramped bag, to bring your hands to the front, trying to force past the pain enough to do something. Instead you have to gasp, and instead of air you take in water, and when you try again, all you do is take in more, and now your air sacs are soggy and in pain– you kind of wish they picked a less painful way to kill you.

Something grabs the bag, and suddenly you’re moving– pulled in some direction you’ve lost track of already as you fight not to take in too much water. Maybe some weird river monster is going to eat you before you can drown. That might be preferable even!

You feel something push up against the bottom of the bag and it turns out the direction is up- two distinct hands hoisting you above the water. You choke– the pain in your bones intensifying as they’re suddenly affected by gravity again, your body shaking as it chokes up water, forcing its way past the gag as it drains from the bag.

You’re placed on solid ground, and when the bag opens up, you look up at a freckle faced seadweller with buck teeth and short hair that’s still dripping wet. Three dogs peer down at you with him, and you’re bewildered as one of them bends over and licks your face.

You freeze, wheezing slightly, unsure what she’s going to do with you, when she grins.

“Well howdy do,” she says. “Here I though I was rescuin’ puppies and kittens but I diddly darn fished myself out a troll! M’name’s Rickly.”

She reaches down and takes the tape off your face from where it was flapping pushes the bag back down from around your face.

“What’s yours?” she asks. You blink back up at her, astonished. You’re under the bridge, you’re pretty sure. There’s a little camp set up down here, and you besides the three dogs, there’s a whole herd of animals watching you from a distance.

“D’you talk?” she asks, leaning forward again. “Y’need help? Oh dangnabit you’ve been tied up this whole time and I ain’t got a single notice in my pan.”

She busies herself, and you can’t help but flinch when she touches you, which hurts your bones even more. You’re shaking too hard to speak, as the realization finally sinks in.

You’re not… dead.

—

You spend the next few nights with Rickly under the bridge, with her flock of animals. You’re hurt pretty bad, but she helps you stick your arm into a sling and feeds you along with the rest of her rescues.

You’re not even close to 100% when you leave, but you need to make a call. Your own palmhusk is busted, dead in the water. You palm a palmhusk and you dial a number you made sure to memorize before everything.

“Arneas?” you whisper into it. “It’s Tinnic, Gilras, she’s- no! Help– help, it’s the place at thirty fourth and twent-”

You snap it shut and return the palmhusk to it’s owner, and limp along your way.

#daginy asks #daginy drabbles #THIS IS THE TIME I'VE REFERRED TO BEFORE WHERE A SEADWELLER SAVED DAGINY'S LIFE #mysmus pls do not murder rickly.#skegulium

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

Text

Heist Pt 2.

You try not to feel nervous as you stride on in. You’re Lady Marien Podoga and you’re a seadweller and you have absolutely nothing to fear. You’ve got your bodyguards George Dundee and Irishi Izhaca at your side, and you sure absolutely do not have anything to fear what so ever.

That doesn’t stop your skin from prickling at the stares and glances you get. You told Hadean once that this is the point where you usually have to run, but you’re not Daginy right now! You’re Marien.

Tomie and Vadaya step forward and open the double doors for you as you step in and watch as the secretary sits a little straighter and folds his fingers together on top of the desk. He’s teal, weedy looking, but you can’t see what he has under the desk. There could be anything there. There’s a few security officers, milling by the door behind you, casually chatting with each other as people come in and out of the office. They wear guns, one of them is olive, the other is cerulean. They’re wary of you, obviously, keeping their eyes on you as they chat. But you think it’s unlikely they’ll attack, so long as you can keep the disguise up.

“Um, ah yes, hello and welcome to-”

You cut him off with a wave. “I’m here to see Ms. Gastra Hilben,” you say softly. “And no, I don’t have an appointment.”

“Uh,” he says. “Let me see if she’s available she might not be in.”

“We can wait,” you say, and stand and watch as he picks up the phone on his desk and dials. You can practically see the sweat bead on his forehead. Poor dude.

“Ms. Hilben,” he says after a moment. “Are you available? There’s some here to see you.” A pause. “No- no appointment I- ah, of course-” he puts the phone to his chest and lean towards. “Name?” he asks.

“Lady Marien Podoga,” you say. It’s a fake ID you have set up, linked to a real world company that doesn’t update its website often enough to catch on to the fact you’ve added an extra profile to their board of directors. “I’m here as a client.”

“Lady Marien Podoga,” the secretary repeats into the phone. “She’s looking for business.”

A pause, as the secretary listens. Seadwellers aren’t a patient lot, you imagine, and you lay a careful hand on the table and clack your fingernails against it.

The secretary jumps- he’s only teal, as compared to your supposed caste, and you feel bad, but you can’t let it show on your face. You have to sell it.

“I uh, yes, Ms. Hilben, she’s right here next to me,” he says. “She’s uh, very distinguished.”

Another pause. You hold your breath.

“Please head on up,” he says with a nod, gesturing to the elevator behind him. “Her office is on the fifteenth floor and to your right.”

You give him the merest of nods and head over to the elevator. The secretary is pointedly not watching you as Vadaya hits the up button.

We’re head for the fifteenth floor, you think at Nanako.

Got it, lah, she says in return. Moving to a better position. All clear?

Clear, you reply.

The door slides open with soft chime.

You step into the elevator and as the door closes behind you, Tomie leans over to you.

“Great-” he starts and you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand. You look back up at him, still in character and raise an eyebrow.

“What did I say about talking to me, George,” you say quietly. You’re willing to bet someone, if not Gastra, has bugged the elevators.

Tomie’s expression drops and he straightens back up and you chew on your inner lip to resist the urge to apologize. You chance a glance at Vadaya, who hasn’t so much as twitched. You can’t see his eyes even. He’s wearing sunglasses, to hide the light his eyes make when he uses his psi, and Tomie’s wearing them to match.

You take a deep breath. You’re not ruining things now.

The elevator slides onto the fifteenth floor and you step out. It’s a small but luxurious office, full of windows and elegantly placed sun shields. A stocky cobalt woman steps forward to greet you, extending a hand towards you.

“Hi, Lady Podoga,” she says, all charm. She’s strong, clearly, adding muscle to the blueblood strength. Getting this close to her was dangerous, if she caught on to what you were doing. “I’m Gastra Hilben.”

Vadaya steps forward and holds an arm out, blocking her from getting too close. She startled and looks up at him, but he stares over her head.

“Please, Irishi,” you say. “I’m sure she means me no harm.”

Vadaya takes a step backwards and you nod towards Gastra.

“You must excuse my bodyguard,” you say. “There have been several assassination attempts lately and he’s a tad paranoid. All the same, I would decline a handshake.”

The minute she touched you and felt how warm you are, the gig would be up.

“Oh well,” she says, taking a step back and standing up straight. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“You have an office where we can speak privately?” you ask.

“Of course,” she says and gestures behind you to a frosted glass door and leads the way. While her back is turned you glance around to see what security she has up. You spot three security cameras, a motion detector and two heat sensors.

She opens the door to her office and you step inside. She’s got a similar set up in here, a camera, heat sensors and motion detectors. You soak in every detail and feel out the light with your psi as you walk in and sit down, Vadaya and Tomie standing at your flanks.

“Please, what can I do for you?” she says.

“You are certain we will not be overheard?” You ask. “No one will be listening in?”

“Of course not,” she says. “We do bug sweeps regularly. Discretion is a business value, after all.”

“I see,” you say. “Then we have business to attend to.”

You snap your fingers and Vadaya steps forwards and puts the briefcase on the desk. You focus and when he opens it, and reveals a set of four gold coins set into a black fabric cushion.

You scrounged the fabric and had Vadaya construct something that would hold it and the coins in the briefcase.

“They date back to the fourth Empress’ reign,” you say. “Tokens for her court of Ladies. There are nine in total, and the collectors are chomping for the entire set.”

Gastra leans forward to examine the coins, eyes wide.

“You have nearly half the set,” she says.

“And I don’t intend to lose them,” you reply. “You may touch them, if you like.”

She reaches out with a finger and fascinated, strokes the gold coin. You see something purple pass under you and around the desk and fly behind her husktop. You gave Vadaya a thumb drive with a key stroke program to plant in her compute.

Gastra sits back, satisfied.

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” she says. “I have the most secure safe in the city. Your collection is safe with me.”

“I need this off the books,” you say. “There are those who are aware that these four are in my possession. I am prepared to pay for it.”

You snap your fingers again, and Tomie sets his briefcase on the desk and opens it. Inside is a load of counterfeit caegars. You hope Gastra checks before she takes them to the bank.

“The combined worth of these four coins is worth two million caegars,�� you say. “This is four hundred thousand, in terms of your fee of ten percent, doubled for your discretion. Are these acceptable terms?”

You keep watch on Gastra, and she keeps her face professional, a polite smile on her face as she scans the contents of both brief cases.

“Of course,” she says. “I would give you my standard contract, but you prefer this off the books, you say?”

“Yes,” you say. “I will sign a contract but no electronic copies.”

Gastra reaches for the cases- greed getting the better of her, you think, and you raise a hand.

“But first-” you say, as Gastra reaches for the cases, and she hesitates. “I would like to see your facilities. I want to know how my property will be protected.”

She hesitates, then straightens with a smile. “Of course,” she says, “It is only fitting you store your own things anyway. Come with me.”

She stands again and you follow her across the office, taking care to note the security measures once more. You pass into what’s clearly another wing of the office because Gastra puts her palm against a small screen by the door and scans her eyes.

“Biometric scanners,” she says, as the lock clicks open. “Doubly reinforced steel.” She glances back at you as she holds the door open. “Even your average seadweller can’t punch through it. It’s been tested against a psi rating of 7.5 on the Gamden scale.”

As she passes through the hall way, she points up around the hall. “We have motion detectors, heat sensors, and cameras that will alert a team of highly trained guards we have on rotation 24/7 every day with no exceptions.”

You pass a security check point with two guards sitting behind a desk, who check Gastra’s ID.

“They check everyone who comes through here, including me,” she says. “Shapeshifters.”

“I hope two guards is enough to deal with whatever threat comes,” you reply quietly.

“There’s more,” she says with a wave. “They do regular patrols and they’re on rotation. I expect we’ll run into more on the way.”

You study their faces as you pass, so you’ll be able to replicate it later, and pass on a description to Nanako.

“Do you have plans in place to deal with any psionic threats?” you ask.

“We hire nullifiers on the guard,” she replies. “We rotate shifts so we have at least one on each round.”

That wasn’t good. At least one meant there was sometimes more than one. If you got nullified during a break in, Vadaya was pretty much the only one who could remain a combat threat. Tomie would probably be unable to break into the locks safely and you have no real way of knowing who the nullifier will be.

You arrive at the end of the hall where there’s an impressive safe door. You stop to look at it, but Gastra gestures you on. “We have three safes built into this floor, all separate from each other,” she says. “I intend to place your items in one that’s in a less obvious position.”

You pause, then nod, and follow her around the corner as you see two guards appear out of a door. A break room?

You try and get a good look, but it’s hard to grab all the details of their face in a glance. You can see more parts of the uniform though, and you can see their belt full of tools. It looks like the standard arsenal is a gun, taser, handcuffs. You suspect they have nullifiers in the pouches as well.

She arrives at a another safe door, identical to the last one. It’s closed shut with a wheel handle next to a key pad.

“Electronic locks can be hacked,” she says. “But you can’t hack a twelve cylinder mechanical cycle.”

She hides her the code with her body, but you count fourteen tiny beeps as she punches something in. She steps back to show you as a panel in the wheel slides aside to reveal a combination knob, which she hides again, as she unlocks it.

There’s a series of thuds as she turns the wheel, and pulls open the door. From beyond it, you see a small room lined with locked boxes, each with two keyholes. There’s a series of sensors in here too, up in the corners.

“Motion detectors in here too, as well as a seismic sensor. The door itself is triply reinforced,” she says. “And each lock box has two keys. One master key which is always on my person-” She pulls a key on a chain from around her neck to show you. You zero in on the key, memorizing the look of its bumps and ridges. “And a key for you.” And she pulls another one from her pocket and holds it out to you.

Tomie intercepts it with his free hand and looks back at you. You can tell he’s trying not to.. do something with his face. You’re not sure.

Gastra coughs into her hand and brushes her hand down the front of her suit. “Yes, excuse me,” she says. “Your box will B439.” They’re all labeled accordingly, and she inserts her key into one of the locks and gestures for Tomie to do so accordingly.

“On my count,” she says. “Three, two, one.”

And with a click, the box slides open, empty and waiting for your fake artifacts. Vadaya steps forward and places his case into it, and the drawer slides back closed. You hold your hand out for the key and Tomie drops it into your palm.

“I promise you, Lady Podoga,” Gastra says. “Your coins are in the safest place on planet.”

“Now let’s see about that contract,” you say.

“Of course,” she says, and leads you back to her office.

The contract she lays out for you is pretty standard. It’s about what you’ve seen on her website, with the promise to keep your valuables secured and a 100% guarantee upon loss of the item. You send the whole thing to Nanako to record it down.

She signs it with a flourish, then with a pin, pricks her own finger and presses a bloody finger print into the contract.

You sign it too, as Marine Podoga, and pull out your own knife pricking a finger and pressing your decidedly not really purple blood into the paper. Your illusions will cover that for you, up until she pulls it out again without you around.

She waves the contract in the air to dry it, then puts it away into a folder.

“Thank you for your business,” Gastra says, smiling, as Tomie slides his brief case over the table.

You’re out in ten minutes and you have to escape to an alley and hyperventilate for a while, as Vadaya stands guard out towards the street and Tomie flits nervously next to you.

“Kid, kid, you were great,” he says. “That was amazing, you were terrifying, don’t- no don’t worry about it, this job is going to go great, that safe’s got nothing on me, we’re going to do this job so well-”

You ask Nanako to send Herlyn and bury your face into your knees.

It takes less than a minute for both of them to arrive, Nanako immediately distracting Tomie and leading him away as Herlyn settles in close to you, draping your jacket across your shoulders as you lean on her.

“That was a lot, huh?” she whispers. You nod, pressing your fingers to your eyes and unclipping the hair extensions, and pulling your jacket closer to you. “I wish I coulda seen you work though, that must have been pretty damn cool.”

She hands you your eyepatch, now that you’re not using your psi to fake a pupil in your conformer, and you slide it back on, feeling a little bit more secure.

“Do you need a moment?” she asks, and you shake your head. You don’t have a moment. You need to pull it together, because you have a pretty short time frame on this job. You gesture everyone to gather around, but they’re distracted and you can’t find the voice for it.

“Hey, guys,” Herlyn says for you. “Gather ‘round.”

The imps step back closer to you, Nanako and Tomie chattering as Vadaya stands there, ready as ever to accept orders.

“Nanako,” you whisper, and make an illusion of the guards you saw. “Last one of these four you see walking out of this building, grab them. We need the ID and uniform, then have him get very lost. It’s gonna be a stake out.”

She straightens and gives you a salute, then steps back.

“Herlyn, you’ve got the transcript of the contract right?” you say, and she nods and produces the notepad. “Tomie, you saw it, make a copy of it, as close as you can get.”

He salutes.

You make an illusion of the master key. “Vadaya, can you construct this?” you ask. He frowns at the illusion for a moment, then forms a purple key in his hand. “Find a keysmith and make a permanent copy before either of us forgets what it looks like.”

“Take a picture! Then no one forgets, lah,” Nanako pipes up. You pause for a moment, then sink your head to your knees again.

It’s so obvious, you can’t believe you missed that.

“Okay, pictures,” you say, waving your hand in the air. “Leaves less of a trail anyway. Bring out the palmhusks, get a couple angles. Oh and get this too.” You do an illusion of the contract as well. Gastra’s signature on it will be important.

“Got it,” Tomie says.

“No worries no worries,” Nanako says. “Go get some rest now, yes? Cannot have you do everything, lah.”

You take a deep breath. You’re exhausted, and you’re going to have to try and pull this heist today.

“Stay in contact, okay Nanako?” you ask. “And Tomie, if you could, when you come back, could you uh, get me some coffee?”

It’s weird asking an adult blueblood to do a coffee run for you, but he just gives you a salute.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the room,” Herlyn says and holds up a hand to haul you to your feet. You take it, glance at the imps, and nod.

“Let’s go,” you say.

#reverse bad end au #daginy drabbles #heist pt 2

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

Text

Daginy: Get Teased

@havesomefantrolls thanks for ur contributions to this drabble, esp all ur ridiculous phrases lmfao

---

“Anisen?” you hear Mysmus call out, as you step out of the ablutionblock. He's standing over at the nightstand, leaning over it with your notebook flipped open.

You feel your face heat up as you remember what you put on that page. You absolutely didn't intend for him to see it, but he points down at it and half turns, grinning.

“You took notes on the way I speak?” he says, picking it up and holding it out for you.

You can't quite look him in the eye as you step forward to take it, scratching at your hairline.

“Yeah,” you say a little embarrassed, looking at your notes. You don't have many lines on the sheet, but you've written down every saying you haven't understood.

“Well kill me a crow,” he says, taking two steps backwards into a chair and sitting down. “I didn't think you'd be so interested.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, already reaching for a pen. “I don't like not knowing things,” you say. Kill me a crow. You're pretty sure you know what it means. It's not a hard leap to make.

Mysmus laughs softly as you maneuver towards the pile, jotting it down as you carefully sit yourself down in it.

“You're really writing it down,” he says, looking at you over his glasses.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it, when you've realized you walked into that one. If you weren't blushing before you are now.

“You knew I'd do it too,” you accuse him.

“The blood's on my hands,” he says with a shrug, lifting them, startlingly unbloodied and fluttering them. You roll your eye.

“You made a mistake on your notes, by the way,” Mysmus says casually and you frown and look down at your list. You take good notes. You make a point of it. You don't see anything out of place, but when you open your mouth and look up to ask, he's grinning at you again.

“Just kidding,” he says, looking smug, and you shake your head and smile.

“You're taking advantage of my vulnerable state,” you retort. “You're a devilish man, Mysmus Errget.”

“You got to lock me up,” he says, hands up in a position of surrender even as he leans back carefully in the chair. “Lock me up and throw away the key. After all, when you throw the devil a bone in the courtyard, you need to make sure it's fresh.”

You stare at him. Mysmus just grins back.

“You'll the follow clock and not the cat's tail,” he says. “So don't leave without a proper offering of mackerel and halibut if you're trying to tell the time.”

You let that hang for a moment, then pick up your jaw.

“I,” you declare, “am not writing that down.”

And you throw a pillow at him.

#daginy drabbles #FLUFF #ITS FLUFFY THIS TIME #a little bird is not a therapist

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

Text

Magpies: Make a Last Stand

Herlyn rolls out a little map of the area on the ground, keeping it flat by placing a few miscellaneous objects on the corners- a book, a glass, a container of cottage cheese left half open on the table.

“So what do we got?” she asks, looking up at Daginy, who squats down, squinting at it.

They point on the map, at the building they broke into.

“They’ve quarantined everything off from here,” they say, tracing out the boundaries of the encounter. “To here. They’re probably going to come in once they're done with recon.”

Less than an hour ago, the call for all block 32d residents had been called to evacuate through a quarantine due to rebel infiltration. At the exits, there were ID checks and pat downs and facial recognition software and there was no way they were making it through there without getting caught.

This was the end of the line.

“Batteries 361 and 996 are here,” Daginy say, and ticks the powers off their fingers. “Constructs, strength, teleportation, lasers, water, intangibility, birds, damage absorption.”

Mysmus whistles low from behind them, peering over their shoulder.

“Quite a line up,” he says. “What are our chances?”

Herlyn looks up at him.

“How much ammo you got?” she asks.

“Twenty for the little one and six for the big,” he replies.

Herlyn sighs and leans back on her hands.

“Slim to none,” she says. “I give us less than 1% for all of us to get away safely. And we need to move fast if want even some of us to survive.”

Daginy bites their lip, examining the map. Herlyn is going to sacrifice herself, they realize with growing dread.

“Percents?” they ask.

“Fifty-fifty Daginy gets out,” she says, looking at them. They were the smallest, the best at hiding, the best equipped for stealth. “Twenty percent for the both of you.” They did make a good team- they covered most each other’s weaknesses. “Ten for Mysmus alone.” He’s better at stealth than Herlyn, but he’d get chased down without Daginy covering him. “And like zero for me.”

She laughs ruefully, running a hand through her hair.

“Herlyn-” Daginy whispers. “You can’t.”

“Look it’s a miracle I made it out this far,” she says. “Ain’t exactly sneaky. Here on out I’m just gonna slow you down to be honest.”

Mysmus puts a hand on Daginy’s shoulder and squeezes. Herlyn had saved them so many times already, forged her way through so many conflicts- to think of her dying in battle was near unthinkable.

“But-” Daginy says.

“I’m the only front liner we got,” she interrupts. “We try anything without a distraction and we all die cuz we’re outnumbered as shit. So here’s the plan.”

Daginy has never heard a plan they hated more, but it is their best shot.

“We need to move fast,” Herlyn says, rolling up the map and getting to her feet. “While we have some sort of upper hand.”

“Herlyn-” they say, catching her hands. “Herlyn I’m-”

“Hey,” she says, and smiles down at them. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about me I’m fine. These are the bastards who executed Alnica yeah?”

Daginy nods slowly, apprehensive, and Herlyn’s smile turns hard as she pats them on the shoulder.

The only real regret she has is that she wasn’t there when they had found Alnica. In her mind, Herlyn draws her line in the sand.

“Then they’ll get theirs when I get mine,” she says firmly, pulling a couple bottles from her sylladex. “Now get in position.”

She speaks as a commander, not as a friend.

“Herlyn,” Daginy says, their voice cracking. Their relationship isn’t perfect- Herlyn’s never quite stopped seeing them as a kid to protect, but they’ve fought together for too long now. “I love you. You know that right?”

They blink back tears in their one remaining eye and she looks back at them, smiling sadly. They’ve never said as much before, but for what other reason have they stayed around?

“I know,” she says. “Me too.”

Daginy and Mysmus head to the roof. When they’re up there, Daginy gives them cover- true invisibility. It's difficult to maintain, especially for two people, but they don't have much of a choice.

Birds of all species flit from building to building. Hirast Aggino, brownblood, communes with them. Enemy reconnaissance. Daginy peers over the edge of the building as Mysmus sets up his rifle.

Their opponents are arranged in the streets, the quarantine only spreading across a couple city blocks. The Empire has decided, apparently, that they were too dangerous to let go, even in a crowded city.

The frontliners are on the ground. Nanako Bonjou, oliveblood, strength, Vadaya Urvata, purpleblood, constructs, Virull Baboyi, water, yellowblood, all stand on the street, waiting for the order to go in.

Behind the building is Casman Kainya, yellowblood, lasers, Ignira Fillop, oliveblood, intangibility, and Tadani Porolo, redblood, absorption, to keep people from sneaking out.

Hirast and Zavare Yuudai, tealblood, teleportation, have taken the high ground, standing on the edge of a building across the street. Hirast has his eyes closed, face tilted towards the sky, connecting with the birds, while Zavare surveys the street below.

Daginy points out the brownblood to Mysmus, who trains his crosshair on him. Killing never did come easy to them. Even now, they hold regrets for their role in the coming carnage. It was easier when they were alone- when the choice was simply run or die- but they could not in good conscience let their friends go to battle without their support.

Mysmus has no such compunctions. It doesn’t matter so much to him what the outcome of this is, so long as Daginy comes out of it alive. The fact they have the best chance is a relief. He puts a hand on their invisible knee and pats it.

“Ready?” he asks, and puts his finger on the trigger. Daginy finds his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Yes,” they say. It's a lie, but they won't ever be ready for this and they need to get moving.

Herlyn waits down below in the lobby for the signal that Daginy and Mysmus are in place. An illusory bird flies down past the street, displaying its black and white wings, and disappears.

Hirast opens his eyes and his mouth, and a shot rings out. He collapses.

“Sniper!” Zavare screams and winks off the roof as Herlyn kicks down the front door and throws a molotov cocktail, setting fire to the ground under the feet of the imperials.

Vadaya constructs platforms and leaps on one, Nanako and Virull jumping on the other. Zavare lands next to Vadaya, just in time to avoid the flames.

“ONE UP FRONT,” Vadaya bellows.

“The teleporter,” Daginy whispers. Mysmus lines up his shot.

An enormous purple shield spreads over the battle on the street as the gun goes off. The shot cracks the shield, the bullet missing the fatal shot and scoring a hot line down Zavare's cheek. They look up, a bead on the direction of the sniper.

“I got it,” they say, and wink out again.

Nanako dives in for the entrance, breaking the door in pieces, neatly dodging a swipe from one of Herlyn's twin blades, attached to her arms.

Her skates are long defunct now-- she's on her feet as she dodges one blow, then the next.

Zavare lands on top of Mysmus, and for a moment everyone startles. They trip, Daginy reels backwards, Mysmus grabs for the hand gun. The invisibility drops.

“Two here!” Zavare yells and winks back out before they hit the ground.

Nanako forces Herlyn back out onto the streets. Virull sweeps aside the burning alcohol and swipes at Herlyn with blade of water. Purple spikes dive at her. The water blade cuts, yellow blood splattering against the ground, but she whirls out of the trajectory of the spikes.

Zavare reappears at the center of the roof. Mysmus whirls and takes a shot. Daginy draws a knife and spreads out copies of their image across the roof. They disappear again.

Nanako looks up at the sound of another shot and bounds upward, digging her hands into the sides of buildings, making her own hand holds. Herlyn shoves psi into every metal thing on imperial bodies, and there's a chorus of screams as the flesh connection to their prosthetics start burning like hot irons.

Zavare teleports behind Mysmus, grabbing him from behind and winks out again, taking him with them. They reappear in the air above the street, twenty stories to fall. Zavare lets go. He knows, as he falls, that Daginy is next. This is their only chance. Mysmus shoots.

Nanako loses focus and falls as her fingers burn her own hands, her neck on fire. Vadaya, half turns, falls to his knees, a purple wall appearing and shattering in the next second. Virull manages to coat all their prosthetics with water. Herlyn pulls her psi again, pulling all the heat from the water and freezing them. There's several loud cracks.

The shot goes into Zavare's hip and Mysmus falls. Zavare screams and teleports out. Mysmus hits the ground. Daginy watches, horrified.

There are more screams as ice presses against sensitive burns. Nanako gets back up, smashing the ice on her hands. Metal fingers fall to the ground. Vadaya frees his left arm but not his right. Herlyn stabs Virull in the head, who has no such strength. He falls, imprisoned by the ice.

Mysmus isn't dead. He can't move an arm for the pain, he can't feel anything below his ribs. He lifts the hand gun and aims for the largest target.

Reinforcements arrive. Ignira pulls them all directly through the building. Casman jumps out running, an enormous psionic blast pulsing from her eyes. Herlyn is knocked off her feet. Tadani bullrushes her.

The bullet lodges in Vadaya's shoulder. Nanako is on Mysmus faster than he can react. She knocks the gun out from his hand and breaks his neck.

Tadani tackles Herlyn into a wall, the impact leaving her woozy and breathless. Herlyn digs into them with her blades, but they simply sink in. Ignira puts her hand through them both and closes around Herlyn's heart.

Herlyn pulls out another bottle, filled with oil and fertilizer.

“Get fucked,” she snarls, and it explodes.

It's silent.

Daginy curls up on the rooftop corner, clutching the concrete ledge, stifling sobs. They should have run already. Zavare called their position, but it didn't look like they were coming back.

Neither was Herlyn, and neither was Mysmus. They didn’t even say good bye except for the squeeze of a hand and an unspoken hope they would not need to.

Below, the imperial soldiers start to collect themselves.

“We missed one,” Vadaya says through gritted teeth and ringing ears. “The little one with the illusions.”

“Look at you shot, leh!” Nanako says, pushing down on the bullet wound, stifling the flow of purple blood. “Whole battery down. 996 is gone. We two down and you talk leftovers.”

“Where's Zavare?” Casman says, scanning the skies.

“Medical,” Nanako says. “Shot in hip, lah. Last one probs long gone. Little bird runs.”

“Well let's get the big guy some medical himself!” Casman exclaims. “We're done here. Send in another battery.

Nanako moves to hoist Vadaya over her head, but he puts a hand up with a groan.

“Some dignity, please,” he says and constructs himself a stretcher. “Next time we meet it will be much more one sided.”

Daginy needs to move. More soldiers would be here soon- this was the only opportunity they'd get to get away. They can't allow themself another moment for grief.

They force themself to uncurl and take one unsteady step, then another. Every step is easier, until they take off running, focusing on what was in front of them instead of what they leave behind.

Things had come full circle, like they always suspected they would.

They’ve been alone before.

They can do it again.

#daginy drabbles #bad end au #cw: violence #cw: blood #gore..///#herlyn drabbles #PUTTING IN THE CUT BC #LONG #AND I STILL WANNA EDIT IT

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ladytrollfishes · 7 years

Text

Alnica: Incubate

Daginy looks up at you from your couch, their little grey eyes wide and wary behind their glasses. They're shy as they get, but you think they've eased up around you since you spent all that time making sure they weren't about to die.

“What do we do now?” they ask quietly.

You rub the bridge of your nose, sighing as you consider your options. You didn't think your life could get more complicated, but Herlyn really did have a way of picking up complications.

“Well we can't send you back,” you say. “You'll get revenge killed.”

You elbow your moirail. Herlyn shrugs sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she says. “Didn't really think it through. But yeah, his clade ain't gonna let this go nice and easy.”

Daginy looks down at their bandaged hands, their lusus curled up in their lap.

“I don't have a hive anymore,” they murmur. “I don't- I can't-”

Actually getting a permanent place for them would be tricky. They obviously can't afford it on stipend, and you're not exactly in the position to be loaning wads of cash to near strangers.

“You can stay here while you recover,” you say soothingly. “For as long as you need.”

“What's another stray?” Herlyn jokes. You elbow her again, hard. Your apartment is full of strays, yes, that you take care of, but Daginy did not need to be compared to an animal.

“I mean, like no offense,” Herlyn says hastily. “Like I'm her biggest stray, y'know. Like she had to taser me the first time we met.”

Daginy blinks up at the two of you, opens their mouth as if to question it, then closes it again. “Okay,” they say. “That uh- that sounds like a story.”

You roll your eyes and give Herlyn a little shove. “Yes, and we can tell it later,” you say. “The problem we have now is that we've got a highblood's clade on our tails here.”

“They haven't caught me yet,” she says. “I mean I can take credit for the kill-”

“How many times?” you interrupt. “How many highbloods have you killed now? Social enforcement is going to come for you if you keep the pattern up.”

Herlyn grimaces, then starts ticking off fingers. “Well the cops only know about two of 'em,” she says. “But three's a pattern and then my life's not worth shit.”

You're all silent for another moment.

“I mean I could probably kill everyone who tries-” Herlyn says, tapping her chin.

“Herlyn!” you blurt out. “You can't solve all your problems with murder!”

You were trying to avoid a revenge cycle, not generate three new ones.

“Please,” Daginy says. “Don't kill anyone else.”

They glance between the two of you, and you eye Herlyn, who catches your eye, and rubs the back of her neck.

“Well if anyone has a better idea,” she says, “I admit mine is pretty last ditch.”

“They can't kill me if they think I'm dead,” Daginy says quietly. “If you find a body and burn it in my hive, everyone will assume he killed me in my hive.”

You exchange glances with Herlyn.

“That's a little drastic,” you say, hesitant. “And it doesn't solve Herlyn's problem.”

Daginy turns to look at her, their eyes calculating. “You said they haven't caught you yet.”

“And they haven't,” Herlyn says with a shrug. “I'm good with it. Revenge cycle isn't going to catch, 'cause they don't have any idea who I am.”

You're more hesitant. “There's a lot of implications to faking your death,” you say. “Your stipend, for example. Skipping conscription is treason.”

Daginy hesitates, then shakes their head.

“None of that matters if I'm dead for real,” they say. “I- I'm not a fighter. If they catch up with me I'm dead.”

They look down and you sit back and sigh.

“Do you have any quadrants filled?” you ask, and they snort.

“I barely have friends,” Daginy says, steady. “Don't worry, no one will miss me too much.”

Herlyn stands and stretches.

“Well if I'm going to plant a body then I better get moving,” she says. “Where's the suncloak?”

You keep an eye on Daginy as Herlyn leaves. They sigh, just a little, resigned, then leans back into the couch, closing their eyes.

“How are you feeling?” you ask them, passing them another blanket. They look tired. You ought to get them a sopor patch and you get up to grab one.

“Tired,” they say. “Scared. I don't know.”

You return with a patch, and sit on the coffee table, handing them the patch.

“For when you want to sleep,” you say. “We probably shouldn't move you around too much right now.”

You shift, a little uncomfortably. What were you supposed to say to someone whose had their life destroyed? Who was currently in the process of ruining it further so they could stay alive?

“It'll be okay,” you say, regretting the words as soon as they drop from your mouth. They sound empty, even to you. “I mean- rest, okay? Heal. You can stay here as long as you need.”

You'll definitely need to move some of your animals out- you can't afford to feed them all, Daginy, and yourself, but you have more to share than Herlyn.

“What will I do after that?” They sound lost and you sigh.

“We'll figure it out when the time comes,” you say. “For now, you need to rest, alright?”

Daginy turns to look at you, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

“You're really nice,” they say, almost puzzled. “You're like the nicest person I've ever met.”

You smile, a little awkwardly. You're honestly not really sure how to react to that.

“I just want to help,” you say. “I'm not the only one like this, I promise, we're just not too common.”

They nod.

“I'm.. going to sleep now?” they say, looking at you like you're about to say no. You only nod.

“Good light,” you say, and retreat to your room.

–

Daginy does nothing but sleep for a week. They need help eating, with their hands as burned as they are, and you help spoon soup into their mouth.

They don't talk much, but you can tell they have a lot on their mind.

The next week, they're chatting with you more, asking what you do, healing slowly. Herlyn invites Ferra over to teach them how to pickpocket and pick locks. Whatever they choose to do in the future, it probably isn't going to be very legal. They pick it up quickly.

The third week, they're starting to walk by themselves again, their healing burns still tender. They spend time to themselves, thinking, but they've really started warming up to you, laughing, joking, arguing intensely about subjects that don't really matter.

At the end of the fourth week, they tell you they have an idea.

“I want to help people,” they say. “Like you, but you know, bigger.”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down the pan of brownies that Herlyn made. Herlyn peeks out from kitchen.

“What do you mean?” she calls out.

“I mean I want to help people,” Daginy says nodding. “Yes, I lost my hive and I'm fake dead, but that just means I don't have that stuff to hold me back anymore. What you did for me, I want to do for other people.”

You shake your head.

“How are you going to do that?” you ask. “I mean, I can't exactly take care of more people than I am already, and you, well- you don't exactly have a hive.”

Daginy shakes their head.

“You said there are others like you,” they say. “And there are others like me. We just need to be able to make sure that they can find each other.”

There's a grim determination in their jaw.

“I haven't figured everything out yet,” Daginy says. “But I think we could build a network of people who want to help. And help everyone. People who don't have a choice, who are running. People with mutations.”

They glance up at you, uncertain and vulnerable with their declaration but with a determined light that makes you think that they've already made up their mind.

“Mutants?” Herlyn says, walking into the living room stirring another batch of brownie mix. “You're talking straight up hemorebellion.”

Daginy nods hesitantly. Herlyn whistles.

“And I thought I was gonna be the one that brings the popo on our asses,” she says. “How're you gonna keep from getting your ass arrested?”

“How are they going to arrest someone that's dead?” they joke, raising a wry eyebrow. “We keep our tracks clean and don't take on more than we can.”

“We,” you comment. “You want our help.”

Daginy nods sort of sheepishly.

“Well, yes,” they say. “You say you want to help, don't you?” They look straight at you, expectantly, and you find yourself thrown.

“I mean-” you stutter. “There's a difference between helping someone right in front of you and- and- hemorebellion.”

Daginy sits back, a slight frown, disappointment written all over their face.

“I'm not worth any more than anyone else in my situation,” they say. “Or worse. They need help as much as I did.”

They're not disappointed you refused, they're disappointed in you.

“I think- I think I need some time,” you say. Daginy nods, still frowning, then gets up to get a brownie.

“Yeah,” they say. “Take your time I guess.”

You grab your moirail- Herlyn pushes the bowl of batter onto the kitchen table- and pull her to your room.

“Herlyn,” you say, as she picks you up and carries you into the pile. “Herlyn, this is crazy. Are you really thinking about doing this?”

She folds her arms around your waist and leans in, touching her forehead to yours.

“You know,” she says. “For all our talk about helping people, I think we just got showed up by this kid.”

You look up into her eyes and sigh.

“I know,” you say. “They're a good kid.”

“Are you scared?” she asks.

You consider it for a moment, then nod. “What they're proposing could get us all killed,” you say.

Herlyn nods, considering it. “We have known them for like a perigee,” she says. “But you know, I think its pretty safe to say we don't have to worry about them being an empire spy or anything.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No,” you say, “No, I don't think so.”

“Daginy is gonna do it,” Herlyn says. “Whether or not we get involved.”

You nod. Herlyn could see it too.

“I mean that means the question is less whether or not we want to be rebels,” she says, “and more if we can live with ourselves if Daginy goes out and gets themself killed and we could have helped them avoid it.”

You lean in and sigh.

“It is,” you say. “Isn't it.”

Herlyn pulls you into a hug.

“Honestly,” she says. “I'm in for it. I've always been kind of a rebel.”

You roll your eyes. “You don't say.” Herlyn chuckles into your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And you?”

You know what your answer is already, but you take time to think about it, to try to settle that knot growing in your throat, to think about the pros and cons and choices, and really consider, really, really, consider the opportunities.

“I need to talk with them more,” you say. “I'm open to it, but we need a real plan.”

“Don't think they'll object,” Herlyn says. “I mean like, Daginy's really fucking smart. And you're really smart. You'll figure out something.”

“You're smart too,” you say. “Don't sell yourself short.”

Herlyn snorts. “I know what I'm bad at,” she says. “And this kind of smart ain't my kind of smart.”

You nod, acquiescing.

“Then let’s go,” you say and detangle yourself from the pile. Herlyn starts to get up, and you grab her hand, giving her knuckles a kiss. She smiles down at you, and helps you to your feet.

“Let's go kick some ass,” she says, and you nod.

The resulting conversation lasts hours, spanning over several nights. You debate this and that, discuss your roles, and when you're done, you feel the buzz of anticipation and nervousness.

“What do we call ourselves?” Herlyn asks.

You exchange a glance with Daginy, uncertain. They bite their lip, shrugging.

“Well,” they say, “Alnica's technically in charge. So maybe we can just call ourselves the Magpie's Nest.”

You glance over at your lusus, the white dappled asshole, and raise your eyebrow.

“Isn't that a little on the nose?” you ask, a little embarrassed at the prospect of having this venture named after you. You're still not sure how you feel about being the spymaster. It's logically the most obvious choice, but you were also the most hesitant of the three to get started.

“Well we'll be gathering info that you'll be hoarding so,” Daginy shrugs. “Either way it's fitting.”

“Alright then,” you say. “The Magpie's Nest.”

#alnica drabbles #daginy drabbles #herlyn drabbles #daginy plot #making of the magpie #honestly i have like four different names for the magpies tbh???#it doesnt matter theyre all canon now

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