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mittelfrank-divas · 3 years

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Dance of the Black Heron chapter 3

In which Dorothea attempts to sort out how to teach Hubert to dance and words are exchanged.

AO3 link here!

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"No, no, no." Dorothea dropped the spoon that she'd been using to tap out a steady rhythm on the side of an overturned crate, letting it clatter onto the sun-bleached wood. "Are you dancing, or are you attempting to recite chapter five of our tactics textbook to Professor Byleth?"

Hubert dropped his stance to fold his arms together. Twenty-five minutes into their dance lesson, and he already felt sweaty and overly warm in his uniform. The afternoon sun beat down on them despite the mid-autumn season, making him regret his preference for black. His long hair was already starting to stick to his cheek on one side, and he was pretending not to notice this. "I do not understand the question."

Dorothea advanced on him across the small room. Well… "room" was a generous term for the location of their private lesson. Hubert had spent weeks sniffing out the more abandoned corners of Garreg Mach when they first arrived at school. The monastery grounds were a maze of ruins, both above ground and below, and many of the abandoned locations appeared to never be included on the guards' regular rounds. Of course, he had always imagined that when he utilized such hidden spaces, it would be for much more nefarious purposes than practicing for a dance competition.

The size and dimensions of this particular building were reminiscent of the knights' hall, but whatever use it had seen in centuries past was long since lost. The wood roof had long ago rotted and caved in, and no door remained in the doorframe. But the tile floor, once cleared of debris, made for a smooth enough surface to dance on without risk of tripping, despite weeds pushing up between a few of the cracks, and the brick walls offered some amount of privacy while they practiced. The open door faced away from the monastery, and the path here was overgrown enough to dissuade anyone from choosing to wander in this direction, so he could be confident that none would be nearby to witness his humiliation. In essence, they had their own private courtyard in which to stage their lessons.

Dorothea took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake, even though she had to reach up to do so. "You're too stiff! You look like a waiter in one of those fancy Enbarr restaurants where they fold the napkins to look like doves."

Strictly speaking, Hubert had hardly visited any restaurant, in Enbarr or anywhere else. Restaurants existed for those who were socializing or traveling, or who did not already dine in the actual Adrestian Palace, served by the royal family's own chefs. But he had a vague impression of what she was describing. "And I am to understand that that is a bad thing."

Dorothea's hands flew to her head in a dramatic fashion. "Yes! The point of dancing is movement! You cannot move and be rigid as stone at the same time. The scowling doesn't help, either."

Hubert felt himself flush. "I was merely concentrating."

Dorothea pursed her lips sympathetically, but her voice retained some of its impatient edge. "Concentration is important, but you'll need to learn not to let that show on your face. The judges want to see a smile. Can you do that, Hubie? Do you know how to smile?"

With some effort, Hubert conjured the most pleasant smile his face could allow.

Dorothea visibly recoiled, her hands leaving Hubert's shoulders so she could step back. "Never mind. You look like you intend to flay me alive. Don't smile like that at the judges, alright?"

Hubert tried to ignore the sting that her comment induced. "I was not intending to be sinister." Not at this exact moment, anyway.

"I've never met someone who could be threatening by accident, but somehow you manage it." Dorothea threw herself back onto her seat and took up her spoon again. "Fine! Let's start from the top!" With that, she began drumming out a beat for him. With a groan, he went back to it.

It surprised Hubert how quickly the dance came back to him. He had not even thought about waltzing for years, let alone put it into practice. His feet still remembered the steps, his shoulders still remembered how to set themselves as though preparing to cradle another in his arms. The basic mechanics of it were really quite straightforward.

And yet he could feel Dorothea's eyes on him, evaluating his every movement. The steady drumming of her spoon on the crate provided a simple enough beat for him to keep time to, but it was a grating sound, one that reminded him with every strike that he was not simply one dancer among a crowd. He was alone on an empty floor, foolishly dancing along to cutlery. Could the entire school hear the noise? Would a face appear in that open doorway any moment? He felt horribly foolish and woefully exposed.

"Augh, just stop!" Dorothea suddenly snapped, the spoon slamming down on the crate. "Honestly, could you look any more miserable? You act like you don't even want to be here."

Hubert bent over to catch his breath, hands on his thighs. There was a reason that he devoted most of his energy toward magic, something that allowed him to stand perfectly still while still fighting with deadly force. "This may come as some shock, but no part of this experience delights me. I am here for my duty, nothing else."

"Really? You think I love being here, pretending to be happy about you getting chosen over me?" Something in Dorothea's voice broke. Hubert tilted his head up to look at her through the sweaty bangs hanging in his face, and realized that she was on her feet, hands clenched at her sides.

He stood upright, hands still clutching at the stitch in his side. Hellfire, was he out of shape. "Is that what you think this situation is?"

Dorothea snorted. "At least have the decency to be honest with me. You and Edie just couldn't have your class represented by a commoner, could you?"

Hubert would have laughed, if he had the breath for it. Instead he merely stared at her in confusion. "Where in Cichol's cursed name did you get that idea?"

"Come on, Hubie. We both know I'm the best dancer in our class. And you come to me with the flimsiest of excuses for why I wasn't chosen? That you need me to concentrate on learning magic? Dancing is a magic class! There is no reason I couldn't do both." Furious tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill. "I'm not an idiot, Hubie. I know there are plenty of people who think I don't deserve to be here. And maybe that would be enough to sully our house's reputation, having someone like me represent us. I just thought you and Edie were above that sort of thing."

Hubert tried to work out where exactly this situation had gone horribly wrong and saw that he'd mishandled it from the start. He should have seen how this would look to her. He straightened his jacket and laced his hands behind his back, feeling that he owed her at least some proper manners. "On the contrary, the thought of watching you outmatch those pitiful nobles and inflict upon them the shame of failure that they have too rarely encountered in their wretched lives fills me with a joy that I rarely know. Yes, you are in every sense the ideal candidate for this competition, and the Black Eagles would be proud to have you represent us. Not despite your origins. Your unique experience is exactly what makes you so adept at what you do. You know what it is to hone your skill for professional use, not as some parlor trick. It was not I who argued against your candidacy, nor was it Lady Edelgard. It was the professor's preference."

Dorothea processed this quietly, her green eyes fixed on something behind him, her arms crossed defensively. "I really thought they believed in me more than that."

"They do," Hubert said flatly, not wishing to obscure the message with what might seem to be insincere reassurance. "Enough to ensure that you do not deviate from your aspirations. Dorothea, why exactly did you come to the officer's academy? Gaining admission while working full time as a Songstress could not have been an easy task."

Dorothea sniffled, giving a dismissive shrug. "Oh, you know. A school filled with Fodlan's wealthiest young noble bachelors? How could I pass up an opportunity like that?"

Hubert rested his chin on his palm, letting his gaze drift to the tall, sun-dappled grass outside the door. "If that is your goal, then it's certainly not the worst plan for going about it. In fact, I would call it downright shrewd. But of course, the fact that you would also be learning skills here that could be used in any number of positions in the future must have crossed your mind. A backup plan, as it were."

Dorothea snorted, though it came out more as a sniffle. "I mean, what gal wouldn't want to learn how to strike a guy with lightning whenever he gets a bit handsy?"

"Indeed, but you could have learned that in Enbarr. There are other schools, easier schools to access." Dorothea said nothing, impulsively reaching to fix her long hair, as if it were ever anything less than perfectly coiled about her shoulders. Hubert persisted. "I have read your application."

Her gaze snapped back to him, wide-eyed. "But that's--"

"Highly confidential, of course. I don't trust just anyone to have such free access to Lady Edelgard. I need to know just who is sitting behind her chair every day." It had not, in fact, been a remotely easy task to gain access to the academy's records. Hubert was still trying to puzzle out where the bishops hid their archives. Fortunately, Professor Byleth was not quite so paranoid about the files they were given, and so he had managed to leaf through the documentation on the Black Eagles. Would that the other two professors could give him such ready access to their own classes.

"It's also very rude," Dorothea muttered.

"I do not tend to concern myself with what is polite." Hubert felt a faint smirk tug at his lips. "Quite an impressive application, actually. Your test scores were average, but your essays were most engaging. You have a practicality that many others lack. You do not allow the big picture, as it were, to blind you to facts. You have valuable insights that our class needs."

Dorothea flushed, looking away from him. For someone who seemed to thrive on attention, she did not seem to know what to do with this sort of praise. She sighed impatiently. "Is there a point to all of this, or are you just heaping compliments on me so I'll drop it?"

"My point, Dorothea, is that you did not come to the officer's academy just to be a Songstress by a different name. The professor fears that making you a Dancer would send a signal that you are valued only for your appearance. That it would lead you to limit yourself. Frankly, I would be inclined to disagree, had I not seen you in action."

"They said that?" Her voice hitched a bit when she said it.

"That is what they told me. That they want to see you succeed as a gremory, a class that very few ever manage to achieve. Though I do not agree with our professor on every front, their instincts on our class composition have been largely accurate. Do not think I haven't noticed you studying the chapter on Meteor, a spell so complex that I doubt even Linhardt would be bothered to learn it."

She gave him a startled glance, but did not deny it.

Hubert nodded to her. "So I ask you again: why did you come to the officer's academy? If you are happy remaining as a Songstress, if you would be satisfied only to become a Dancer and nothing else, then I will gladly end this farce and accompany you to persuade Professor Byleth to change their mind. But if you came here to prove something, as I suspect you did, then I would be remiss to allow you to make such a sacrifice."

Her eyebrows arched disbelievingly. "Hubie, that almost sounded generous of you."

He chuckled. "Lest you mistake my actions for kindness, allow me to remind you that I seek only to ensure that Lady Edelgard's people are maximizing their potential."

"Right, of course. You could not possibly be trying to help your friends achieve their dreams the way you're always talking about helping Edie with hers." She was smiling now, even as she wiped at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "To answer your question, I... I don't know if I have just one answer for you. But I do know that I have been around simpering nobles my whole life. And I would give just about anything for the chance to wipe the smile off their faces. And beating them at their own game? Learning the spells that all their fancy tutors and expensive libraries couldn't teach them? I'd like that very much."

Hubert smirked in triumph, and offered her a low bow. A proper bow, the likes of which he normally reserved only for Edelgard. "Then, Miss Arnault, I suggest a trade. I will help you reach your goal if you help me reach mine. Teach me to survive this blasted competition and I promise that all I know of magic is at your disposal."

Dorothea laughed. "Okay, okay, no need to turn this into the opening of an epic drama. Though... hmm. I think I have an idea of how we're going to present you now. You are actually quite charming in your own way, Hubie. There's no reason to try to cover it up with a fake smile."

Now it was Hubert's turn for skepticism. "Somehow I doubt there is much charm for you to find."

Dorothea waved him off. "Oh hush, you'll see what I mean soon enough. Anyway, we're focusing on your stance right now. Here, take my hand." She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder and held out the other for him to hold.

He surveyed her in confusion. "Does the contest not require each contestant to be performing alone?"

Dorothea huffed. "Yes, despite the waltz being a couple's dance. It's a silly requirement, really. But right now you're letting your nerves get in the way of your movement. You need to stop being so embarrassed about me watching you. So let's take out the audience factor entirely. There is nobody left to watch if we're both participating, right?"

Hubert sighed as his gloved hand took hers, the other resting lightly on her waist. "Perceptive, as ever."

She grinned up at him. "That's why I'm your teacher. Now, you lead. Teach me to waltz as though it's my first time. I'm a lowly commoner who's never been allowed to join in on such a high class dance before."

Hubert chuckled at her, pulling them into a slow, steady rhythm. Dorothea followed smoothly, exposing her lie for what it was. "Does that work on the brainless nobles you seduce? Pretending to be clueless?"

"Some of them." She smirked, unapologetic. It was harder to match each other's steps without music, but Dorothea was a professional. She adjusted to Hubert's pace, reading his body language well enough to anticipate his steps. "Good. Loosen your grip on my hand a bit. You're directing me, not pulling me like a dog on a leash."

"Quite the analogy."

Her head quirked in an approximation of a shrug. "You'd be surprised how necessary that comparison is. Far too many noblemen can't tell the difference."

"Not as surprised as you might think." He complied with her instruction, letting her hand simply rest in his rather than gripping it.

"Better, but you're still too rigid. You're worrying too much about what I'm doing. Dancing with someone is about trust. Which I know is in short supply with you."

"What gave you that impression?" Hubert tried not to stare down at her feet, certain that he was about to tread on her toes.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this, but my eyes are up here." She laughed at his startled look. "Trust, Hubie! You need to trust me that I know how to keep up with you. And you need to trust yourself. You know these steps, right?"

Hubert studiously kept his eyes on hers, realized his hand had tightened around hers again, and pointedly loosened it. "Knowing and doing are not the same."

Dorothea sighed. "Alright, stop. New plan. I'm cashing in that magic lesson right now."

Hubert let his hands fall away from hers as she stepped back, and tried very hard to keep pace with Dorothea's shifting moods. "I did not realize you were in such a hurry to learn."

"I am now. The wall makes a good enough target, right?" She moved to stand beside him so that they both faced the same direction, with only a wall of bare brickwork ahead of them. "So? What's the most basic Dark magic you know? What's the spell you can cast in your sleep?"

Hubert regarded her. "You are aware that Dark magic and Black magic are quite different, I'm sure. Black magic utilizes the elements, while Dark magic draws on something more internal and primal."

Dorothea sighed impatiently. "I have read chapter one of the textbook, yes, thank you Hubert. Show me anyway."

Hubert puffed out a breath. At least this would be a respite from his stumbling around. "Alright. The simplest Dark attack is Miasma Δ. It goes like this." It was easy. So easy to gather the dark magic in his chest. To draw his hand across his body as he muttered the incantation, feeling the cold sting of power spreading its tendrils down the length of his arm. To flick his fingers outward just as the magic reached them, casually lobbing a sphere of crackling darkness at the bare wall. The impact resonated with the magic's hollow sound, leaving a blackened scorch mark on the bricks. How strange that trying to dance had felt like wading through waist-deep mud, but casting this spell felt like stepping back onto dry land, as light and easy as walking on a summer day.

"Hmm." Dorothea experimentally moved her hand across her chest. "Like this?"

"Palm inward. Arm parallel with the floor." He reached over and tilted her elbow up a few degrees. "You want to draw the magic in toward your hand before you expel it. If you allow your arm to droop, you risk casting at the floor rather than at your target."

Dorothea imitated his movements, right down to a small flourish in her wrist that, strictly speaking, was not a necessary addition to the spell, but that Hubert habitually added on principle. "And your feet? Do you step forward with your right or your left?"

"Always lead with your casting side."

"Right. Of course." She practiced the motions again. Hand across the chest, elbow out, step forward, flick of the wrist. Again and again she repeated the steps, imitating him perfectly without the actual orb of magical darkness firing from her hand. And then she tried it again using the other hand.

"Dorothea, what are you doing?"

Dorothea flicked one hand in front of herself and then another. "What's it look like?"

Hubert crossed his arms. "It looks like you are being very smug."

She grinned, but did not stop her impromptu dance routine, working in much more hip sway than the original spell called for. "Don't I have a right to be? I'm finding all your secrets, Hubie."

He could not help the amused smirk that crossed his face. "I very much doubt that."

"Well I've found one, anyway. You are a good dancer when you're not getting in the way of yourself. We just have to draw it out of you. What is spellcasting other than a very precise dance routine with a purpose?" She did a careless twirl, her hair fanning out around her. It looked so effortless.

"Ah yes, deadly magical force is naught but prancing about." Hubert watched as Dorothea spun the movements he had taught her into an intricate routine that grew with each new iteration. Here he was, betrayed by his own lesson.

She came to a standstill, grinning in triumph. Whereas Hubert felt bedraggled and exhausted by dance, she looked invigorated, her peach skin glistening radiantly. "From now on, we'll warm up our sessions with a magic lesson. It's something you're already confident in, so it'll get you into the mindset you need. Come on now, let's get back to it. We've got lots of time yet before the sun goes down."

Hubert groaned, casting his eyes up at the treacherously clear blue sky, still shining bright with the low evening sun. If only he believed in the Goddess, he might be tempted to beg her to nudge it towards the horizon just a bit faster.

#hubert von vestra #dorothea arnault #black eagles #fanfic #dance of the black heron #indigo's ferdibert got me hyped to finish this part!

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clownhara · 4 years

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I've been following you for a while but I dont know all that much about your OCs so how about a big resume of them all?? :DDD

I haven't really posted much about them on this account until recently so that doesn't really suprise me 😅 but yeah I absolutely can! Warning though this is going to be unbelievably long

I guess I should start off with Zensuke because he is THE gay purple cat. I named this blog after this guy. I made him when I was probably like 12-13 or around there so he had all the things you'd expect a repressed edgy kid's of to have. He was basically a demon who managed to get out of thier world's equivalent of hell and instead of doing anything evil he just made cake and got married to the guard who was supposed to kill him. I don't really do much with him anymore but I still love him very much.

Corbinian is probably the character I talk most about and he's the one I edit to fit into different worlds the most. He was a normal doctor but he got his memory wiped by robots and ended up working as an executioner for the robotic mafia, but eventually got caught and had to hide out in Lobotomy (he was originally a Lobotomy Corp oc) where he discovered he can extract abnormality dna and with some altering the dna can be injected into humans causing a variety of different mutations and effects. He's usually very heartless and manipulative, but does have a soft spot, usually for anxious, soft spoken people, who subconsciously remind him of his brother (who is a friends if so I can't really get into him). He also was given a variety of nicknames by the higher ups, like Corb, Corn chip, Corb on the Orb, or just Corn. Je

Corble is the result of Corb trying out human cloning. He has the same general appearance as Corbinian, but with purple hair (hence the name, because he's porble corb) that's styled differently. Since the experiment was technically a failure Corb was going to kill him, but Corble was really sweet and innocent and Corb basically went "well great guess I adopted my clone then". Corb stopped messing with cloning but adores Corble.

Might as well get all of my Lobotomy ocs out of the way. Oliver is the first Lobotomy oc I ever made, which is funny because I may or may not constantly forget that he exists. Oliver is basically a five year old kid in an adults body, and I mean that literally, because his parents basically locked him in a room and ignored him so his mental age is basically that of a kids. He's very mischievous and loves pulling pranks on people, most of which are harmless. Unless it's Corb, whom Oliver gates with a passion. Then it's thinly veiled murder attempts disgusted as pranks. He loves Fairy tales, and only works with fairy tale abnormalities because he panics with any other kind. Only one person in the entire facility can even put up with him, and that's Mabel.

Mabel is trans lesbian who can find the good in almost anyone. She's optimistic, bubbly, and has a great sense of humor. She tends to get really flustered around women though. Is it obvious I kinda projected onto her a bit? Because I did. If she wasn't in Lobotomy she'd definitely be a streamer. I'm just now realizing I basically made snapcube before I knew who that was. Whoops.

Up next is Adam! Adam is quiet, nervous, and honestly just prefers to not be noticed. Their ability to almost seamlessly blend into thier surroundings is astounding. Most people (me included) tend to just forget they exist. Which honestly is funny because they end up dating the loudest, most cocky person in the entire facility. Adam loves horror movies and spicy food.

Kieth is the loudest, most cocky person in the entire facility. He's the adopted son of a sephirah and the leader of the Rabbit team so that much is unavoidable. He's quick to anger, blunt, and tends to underestimate other people. However, he's also loyal to a fault, and willing to back his friends up no matter what. He feels like his mom's are expecting him to live up to expectations that he can't (and that they don't have but he doesn't realize that), so he's constantly throwing himself in harm's way to desperately try to prove to them that they made a good investment by adopting him or die trying. His two passions in life are collecting weapons and tending to rabbits, two of which he managed to train to sit on his shoulders and attack people. Despite being total opposites he loves Adam very much and will endure any horror movie with them, even if he's a huge scaredy cat.

Damien doesn't gave that much development, unfortunately. He came from a very religious household, moved out, and frequently gets possessed by an abnormality who makes him act like a cryptid. Totally normal stuff. He also went to law school.

Zephyr is a very, very serious individual. They've got a completely monotone color palette, speak either in short, blunt sentences or long, fanciful paragraphs with no in between, and tend to come off as cold and stiff. They're completely devoted to work, which is how they managed to become a captain. Despite this, they're very kind and caring, but unfortunately rarely get to show that side of themselves unless it's with Jamison, thier partner, both in crime and in the romantic sense. They also have a love/hate relationship with Owen, basically openly hating his guts but also enjoys thier banter and would hate if anything genuinely awful happened to them or his family.

Jamison is the complete opposite of Zephyr. He's an open book, very colorful, and tends to slack of when Zephyr isn't looking. Not on purpose, he just tends to get distracted most of the time. He's quite popular because he's very cheerful, which is rare in the higher ranks of Lobotomy. He'd absolutely die for Zephyr, and us usually the one who patches thier wounds. He really doesn't like Owen and thinks thier a pain in the ass, but keeps that to himself most of the time.

Owen is..... Interesting. I kinda went buck wild with him not gonna lie. He's one of the oldest son's of the God of Nightmares and Fire, an absolute agent of choas, and a campy fashion nightmare. But... I love them. They're both unbelievably obnoxious and also very caring. He's the kind of character you'd love but also hate at the same time. He also ended up becoming the God of Death in one timeline. If he wasn't God they'd probably run makeup guru/cursed amsr YouTube channel. Honestly he'd still run those as a God though. Also gender is a toy store and Owen is a kid who broke in after dark and is running along pushing all of the assorted genders into a cart while laughing maniacally (they use any pronouns but I stuck to just he/him they/them for this little snippet)

Alright, Lobotomy ocs done. Up next is.... Ugh... Octavious. He's originally a Danganronpa oc, the shsl gossip, and he was made to be a villian and by God does it show. He's the most fake, back stabbing, two faced character I've ever made. He's also the most one dimensional, which was actually intensional. He has no personality beyond being a petty, lying bitch, so when he runs out of lies and rumors to spread he goes into an existential crisis about how he has virtually no identity until he makes some new lie up about some random person. He's also abusive towards his younger sibling Aspyn, whom he has both physically and emotionally scarred. And, the icing on the "fuck this guy" cake, he's incredibly obsessive over his "wife" Melissa, who wants nothing to do with him and never even dated him, let alone married him. Basically he's a horrible, lying, abusive stalker. He also dresses exclusively in eye burn pink since the most poisonous bugs are usually brightly colored. Fuck Octavious, all my homies hate Octavious.

Next is Melissa, who honestly wasn't much better before her arc. She was raised to believe that in order to truely succeed in life, you have to ensure others fail. She, unfortunately, took that advice to heart. Get arc consisted of learning that we all can succeed together and that actively fucking other people over just made her an awful person, so she changed her behavior and tried to help people from then on out. She's incredibly meticulous, organized, and really smart. She still has issues trusting, but she's getting better. She has a crush on Octavious's younger sibling, but absolutely despises Octavious.

Aspyn is a quiet, caring individual who has no confidence both due to Octavious and just how they were raised. They are an incredibly skilled doctor, however, managing to perform amazingly in several different fields. They are, however, very defensive about thier passions, quick to insult anyone who questions them, mainly due to Octavious. They have a huge crush Melissa, but is to afraid to ask her out. Also they wear an eye patch because Octavious messed up one of thier eyes.

Hooo boy where to start with Edward. He's really inconsistent between universes, but the main constants are his power (he can trade bodies with people), him and Max getting together, him being a huge bookworm, and somehow he usually ends up being my self inserts dad???? Hos other aspects tend to change. Sometimes he's a power hungry megalomaniac who's trying to take over the world and will crush anyone and everyone who gets in his way or isn't useful to him, using his power evily to stay young forever by trading bodies with his kids and killing them when they're in his body. Other times, he's a fairly calm, if not a little cold, man whos biggest crime is the occasional tax evasion, who's power is more of a curse, causing him to stay alive forever through a series of unfortunate coincidences. Either way he's fun to write

Max is one of my favorite characters. He loves baking, his friends and family, he isn't too bright but no one holds that against him. Unfortunately, no matter which side of Edward it is, he's hopelessly in love with him, which can lead to his downfall. He's very protective of his cousin Heron, and tries to protect the innocent, which he usually doesn't end up doing thanks to evil Edwards manipulation. I also somehow failed to mention he's a plant man and flowers sprout wherever he walks and he can control plants but I couldn't find a good way to fit that in naturally.

Heron is half a plant man, in the worst possible way. He has rose vines instead of blood, which feels exactly how you think it would. Magic keeps his alive luckily, but it's unbelievably painful. Most of him and Max's family died when they were young, and unlike Mac who ended up on the streets, Heron ended up in an orphanage, where he learned at a young age that he shouldn't get close to anyone because if he does, they'd die. He genuinely believes that, and the only person he thinks is immune, is his cousin Max, who he even still expects to drop dead. Heron mainly fights by breaking his skin so his vines will grow rapidly and trap and kill his attacker, which looking back is uh. Kinda symbolic. I didn't do that on purpose but it fits

Eden is an angel, who was outcasted from heaven after being framed for a crime they didn't commit. They don't understand how humans work, but is trying thier best to fit in. He's one of the few beings Heron trusts, and even still Heron doesn't trust them much because of Eden's ability, being able to control holy flames. Eden is stoic and aloof, with an odd sense of humor. He insists that him baking using his holy flames is a form of training. Despite them claiming to be above human emotions, they very much are not above them and he is actually quite emotional.

Avocado is one of Herons old friends, who fell victim to Herons "luck" (aka they died). They are a drider (basically spider centaur) who came from a large family of drider thieves. They are very quiet and kind, which they use to thier advantage, since one would thing they'd steal small objects from people's houses or pickpocket them, which Avocado very much does. While they're fairly weak in combat thier thieving skills are not to be underestimated.

Grape is Avocados older sibling, and they are very serious and quite rude. Grape wants to kill Heron to avenge thier sibling, but ends up getting caught robbing the wrong person and ends up having to join the person's kids adventuring party.

Apple is the oldest drider sibling, and ends up taking a motherly role for all of the younger kids. They had to grow up incredibly fast, and has to make all of the hard decisions in place of thier dying father. Desperately needs a break.

There's more spider siblings but there isn't much info on them

Both Sherry and Theodore Poser are mainly just there because I have them really fun designs and don't really have a personality. Sherry's kinda hard to draw though

#this took forever but oh well #im also not tagging every individual oc lol #asks #aki no nyo #gay purple ocs #gay purple posts #long post

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let-me-write · 4 years

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The Truth Untold

Chapter 1: Ty looks into the Dimmet Tarn

The sky seemed to be clearing this morning after a week of incessant rain.

Ty looked out of his window, noticing a long overdue ray of sunshine entering his room. On his lap, Irene-his pet lynx-laid purring contently, as he pet her steadily. Livvy, his sister, had yet to return from her night-time ritual of roaming the Scholomance to bide her time when Ty slept. She had become careful with her movements since she had witnessed its impact on him, by limiting herself to roaming only within the Scholomance.

Ty sighed longingly at the rare and tiny glimpse of the Sun behind the thinning clouds. He missed his home-the Los Angeles Institute-which had dependably bestowed him with the sight of the perennial sunrise over the Pacific, besides sandy beaches and the familiar palm trees.

The memory of the place brought up his longing for his family. He missed his brothers and sisters, every moment of the day, but had learnt to distract himself by dutifully abiding by his schedules. He had trained his mind to focus on his lessons and training at the Scholomance, which had been sufficient in occupying his mind for the past three years. With the prospect of his upcoming trip to home, he could not contain his thoughts about his home or family for long.

Ty was rudely awoken from his thoughts as Irene leaped from his lap to chase around a familiar, translucent silhouette. Livvy had finally returned from her "night-time hauntings", as she's been referring to them. She wished him "Good Morning Ty-Ty" with a hearty smile. Livvy had not changed at all, obviously, in the past three years. She still claimed to love him, did not want to be separated from him and cared about their family.

As time had gone by, Ty was the one who had outgrown his gears and was religiously occupied with shaving his facial hair weekly. Moreover, he had also been the only one to develop a mix of guilt and resentment over outgrowing his twin sister. He felt a painful twinge in his heart now, looking at his sister who had not aged a day since that fateful day in Idris. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something and besides, Ty observed, she had a hint of excitement in her eyes.

He spoke " Good Morning Livvy, Was there something interesting in your explorations last night? " She indulged in her news readily, " You know the girls that live next to Anush's room: Aisha and Donna? "

Ty nodded recalling the friendly raven-haired and blonde couple. " I overheard them talking about their trip to Dimmet Tarn yesterday. Out of the two, Donna was brave enough to glimpse into the Tarn for a few seconds and you know what she saw?" She paused and continued, " She saw her estranged brother returning to their family in the future, a brother she had not seen for about 10 years. She is ecstatic and sending a message to her family. Magnus was right !! "

Ty didn't understand how Magnus figured into this. Livvy explained, " Magnus told me once that the Tarn was cursed by a warlock to show one's future upon witnessing their reflection over it. It didn't work for me as I am a ghost with no definitive future. But, It might work for you " He gave her a wary look.

She insisted, " Ty, consider the possibilities. We can try to understand the mysteries of the Dimmet Tarn. Additionally, a look into your future wouldn't hurt. If anything, knowing about the future might give us an advantage over the Cohort or any other enemies. What do you say? "

He thought, I could never disappoint her, so he conceded, " Let's go, if you insist ". Besides, it could prove to be a good distraction.

He stepped out into the fields surrounding the entrance to the Scholomance with Livvy closely gliding beside him. He noticed that all the trees in the distance looked to be weighed down by their rain-laden leaves. At least, there was a hint of sunlight illuminating their passage. He moved soundlessly, dodging the occasional branches in the way.

After a few minutes of relentless walking , they seemed to be approaching a well-lit clearing. Ty cleared the last pair of branches and let himself into the banks of Dimmet Tarn. This was the first time he had come back to the place after he had rescued Irene from here three years ago. Unlike the last time, he witnessed the tarn lit by steady sunlight, possible with the now clear sky.

He stood mesmerised by the lively appearance of the usually grim looking surface of water. The sunlight reflecting the surrounding trees on the water body's surface exuded serenity that betrayed its true nature. Livvy, beside him, was also taken with the new, appealing nature of the tarn. Ty noted how the name of the tarn-Dimmet- wouldn't suit its current appearance.

His sister edged towards the tarn and peered into it. "Still no future for a ghost, I guess", she sighed dramatically while returning to his side. She then looked up at him, expectantly.

Ty was apprehensive, thinking back to the classical tales of the grim plight that awaited the Greek heroes who encountered the mythical Fates. He recounted how various literatures warned about knowing one's fate and the subsequent, dire consequences that come with avoiding the undesirable.

His fingers were fluttering freely, reflective of his inner anxious self. But he wanted to be of help to his family and the new Clave, however possible, and made up his mind to ignore any indication of personal harm that the Tarn might show him.

He decided that a short glance at the surface of the tarn would do; surely, too much information about the future could only breed misery.

He took measured steps toward the tarn and looked hesitantly into the surface of the well-lit but murky water. He gasped, he was looking at a moving image coming slowly into focus, instead of his reflection. Livvy came towards him and asked with concern, "Are you okay, Ty? Do you see anything? " Ty noted that Livvy couldn't see and assured her with a nod.

He noticed that the vision was materialising into definitive shapes that he could recognize: trees and mountains in the background and in front of them he noticed with an alarm;

He himself was in the foreground of the vision clinging desperately to someone. He focused on his own face in the future looking weary and unrecognisable, and his eyes...his familiar gray eyes were distraught with fear and worry, looking down at the frail body lying on his own lap.

There was too much blood; scarlet, contrasting his black gear and spilling out into the ground surrounding them.

Ty was petrified to even think of who the injured person could be in the vision.

He forced himself to lower his gaze towards the body, when he realised that it was a young man and not just anyone but a specific one with golden curls and blue eyes.

Ty realised with a jerk, it was Kit, his Kit, older than he remembered..... who was injured and bleeding heavily in Ty's arms and Kit..he.. he was smiling weakly up at him in the vision, despite his state.

Kit looked so fragile and his eyelids looked heavy, weary with the effort of remaining open. He was visibly straining to keep himself conscious in the future-Ty's arms.

The image started to flicker and change but Ty had had enough.

He pulled himself back in a sudden flurry of motions and collapsed onto his knees in the ground and tried to hopelessly crawl away from the Tarn. He could not push the image back, which seemed to be etched into his eyes now.

His eyes were now flooding with tears when he became aware of Livvy trying to comfort him. Her voice dripped with worry, " Ty, what did you see? I'm here with you. It will be okay." She sounded distraught. Livvy started to apologize frantically, "I'm sorry I made you do this, I'm sorry Ty..."

Ty was breathless and nauseated. He managed to only whisper "Kit-" to her. He wanted to get away from here as soon as possible. He took off running, going as fast as his limbs could navigate through the forest.

He didn't stop until he reached his room and promptly let himself in and collapsed onto the rug on the floor. Irene, who was startled by his entrance, came towards him and wrapped herself around him. This grounded him to a certain extent and he noticed Livvy was now beside him too.

His sister looked helplessly for something to do. She blurted out, " I'm sorry Ty.. I'm sorry. What should I do? Tell me." Ty shook his head slowly and pulled Irene up into his arms. He tried to steady his breath by concentrating on Irene's breathing. He resolved his jumbled thoughts and told Livvy, " I'm fine. The vision cannot be true and may not come to pass."

Livvy looked at him incredulously and asked, " You mentioned Kit earlier. Was the vision related to him? Does something happen to him?"

Ty would never lie to his sister; so he nodded weakly and proclaimed helplessly, "The future is not definite. Isn't that right, Livvy? There must be a way...something that I can do.. " He pulled out the silver chain around his neck and stroked the heron thoughtfully.

He couldn't stop his thoughts from lingering on the boy the chain had belonged to... Kit...Christopher. Ty's best friend, an outsider who had once understood him as much as or even more than his family. He remembered the lost boy who had reluctantly joined him and Livvy, gradually warmed up to them and had truly became an indispensable person in his life.

He realized that his sister was still awaiting an explanation but he was too startled to form coherent words. He told her, " I need some time Livvy. I hope you understand." Livvy nodded and assured him that she would only be in the outside corridor before reluctantly leaving his side.

Ty stood up and fumbled to find Julian's lighter from his bedside table. He had always found comfort in clicking it. For the next few seconds, he concentrated only on the movement of his thumb and let his other fingers fly freely. His mind was being flooded with vivid memories: both comforting and painful; the very ones he had tried to suppress in the past couple of years.

Ty could not help but remember Kit, the Watson to his Sherlock, who had been his reliable and only comfort after his sister's death. Despite their last bitter encounter and the separation that ensued, he still cared a lot about Kit. Surely, he hadn't mentioned Kit's name to anyone besides Magnus, since he learnt that Kit didn't want to do anything with him. But, it didn't mean the boy had failed to occupy his mind from time to time.

Ty loved all kinds of mysteries and Christopher Herondale was the most intriguing of them all.

He had believed that the bond between him and Kit was incomparable and that the other boy had surely considered him as a friend too. But, despite everything they had gone through, Kit had chosen to leave him without a word of explanation or parting.

Ty had been heartbroken since his conversation with Magnus, when even the sliver of hope that he would see Kit again had vanished.

The months since then were a period of intense inner turmoil of confusion, despair and longing. Even thinking of Kit had left an inexplicable pang in his chest...talking about him was unthinkable. He had been actively avoiding any conversations about Kit with his family.

His brother Julian had asked once, if Ty had been missing Kit and he had answered "Not more than usual" and left the room in a hurry with his headphones on. Livvy had prodded him with questions about Kit in the beginning but had given up due to a lack of response.

Then, she had visited Jem's home in Devon and had met Kit. Kit had then given his Heron pendant, the only heirloom from his mother, for Ty and Livvy's protection. Ty had failed to understand Kit's motivations behind such a generous gesture. He had thought wearily then, " Kit Herondale is the most prominent yet elusive mystery of my life."

There were also other painful memories and thoughts that hovered over his consciousness but he quelled them. He didn't have the time to be miserable now. He must try to understand the plausibility of what he had seen, happening. His stomach muscles tightened while he considered the harrowing possibility of such a future.

Sensing his anxiety, Irene pulled herself up onto his arms and placed her warm paws on his shoulders. She was always good at comforting him and it worked now too, albeit weakly. He patted her head affectionately and tried to make sense of his thoughts.

His mind did not entertain the certainty of such a terrible thing happening to Kit. Kit deserved better. Ty wanted to make sure of that. He just didn't know how...

In the short respite from his thoughts brought by Irene's purring, he reminded himself of his previous apprehensions about the dangers of fighting the fate.

Maybe, the Ty from three years ago would have sprung into action at any indication of potential harm that may befall his loved ones. But, now, he was hesitant, as he had a daily reminder of his callousness in the form of his twin sister besides his ever-growing guilt and regret for his past actions. He cannot afford to act recklessly again.

But he needed to protect Kit from any potential harm...It felt like his sole purpose in the world.

He knew Kit was safe for now, under the care of Jem and Tessa. He didn't want to alarm him or his family with this unfounded terror that haunted him. He also reminded himself that Kit would not want to meet him. That would never change.

Maybe, he could do some more research about the Tarn and its abilities or...he could act now. His thoughts were whirling before he settled on a prominent one that was rational but also daunting.

He let Irene down and scrambled to his desk and took out a paper and pen.

After all these years, he thought, the time has finally come for me to write to Kit.

Please like and reblog if you like it !! I appreciate your comments too !!

#kit herondale #kit x ty #ty x kit #kit herondale supportive army #ty blackthorn #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #tsc fanfic #twp #tsc #the truth untold #chapter 1 #kit #kitxty #tuservaar

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strife-and-discord · 4 years

Text

Here Kitty, Kitty - Chapter 3: Dimitri Finds Out

Read on AO3 here | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Characters: Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dedue Molinaro

Summary: After Gronder Field, Dimitri discovers that the rest of the world has moved on while he was singularly focused on decapitating Edelgard. A lot has changed and some things a weirder to process than others.

A/N: uhhh hey! long time no see but I'm here to continue these catboy Felix shenanigans! This is less a "Dimitri finds out" and more "Dimitri tries to mentally process that his best friend has cat ears" I said before that this isn't meant to be shippy but I do have a bias towards dimilix so sorry if it shows

okay so given that I won’t be getting a job in the foreseeable future I’ve decide that anyone who donates to my ko-fi page and shoots me a message with proof of payment and a request will get a short drabble (absolute max word count 500) so if you like my writing please consider doing that!

Things started to move quickly after the battle at Gronder Field, something Dimitri is thankful for as it gave him less time to dwell on… well… everything. Apart from suddenly taking on numerous kingly duties, He's also trying to process how all his former classmates have changed over the years. It's not that he hadn't noticed the differences when they all arrived at Garreg Mach, it's just that, amid his vengeful obsession with Edelgard, he hadn't cared. Now that the fog has somewhat cleared from his mind and the voices are a little quieter, he can finally appreciate how much they've all grown.

Ingrid's hair is short now and she got rid of her bangs, Dimitri has made sure to tell her that he thinks it suits her. Ashe has grown several centimetres since the academy and looks far more the knight he's always dreamed of being then he used to. Dedue hasn't actually grown but he holds himself with so much more confidence now that Dimitri can't help but feel that he towers over everyone more then he used to. Sylvain hasn't changed all that much, aside from some minor details, but Dimitri can see how the darkness in and under his eyes has grown over the years. Felix… Felix has cat ears and a tail.

Dimitri can vaguely recall this change happening not too long after the Blue Lion's initial reunion, however, he also recalls quickly dismissing the change as unimportant before returning his focus to mowing down as many imperial soldiers as physically possible. Now, Dimitri curses his brain for dismissing this as unimportant. His closest childhood friend has grown cat ears and a tail!! Of course that's important!! Unfortunately, Dimitri seems to be the only who cares at the moment, presumably because everyone else has simply moved on already given that they've been aware since it happened.

However, it feels like Felix and Dimitri's relationship is at a crossroads right now, considering everything that's happened. It's honestly a miracle that Felix has stayed to fight by his side this long (it's a miracle that anyone has stuck around this long) and Dimitri is terrified of saying something that might push him away for good. For example, pointing out the fact that he seems to have gone through some unusual physical changes and can Dimitri please, pretty please, scratch him behind the ears, they look so soft and he wants to know if Felix will purr and-

Dimitri quickly cuts off his line of thinking because he knows the only way that scenario ends is with him losing his other eye. The point is that things have been… tenuous with Felix lately and Dimitri has been subtly avoiding him because he doesn't know how to handle the situation without screwing things up with Felix more then he already has.

"Talking to him will help a lot more than avoiding him, Your Highness." Dedue points out, shocking Dimitri out of his internal musings. They are having lunch together in the dining hall, a new tradition they have taken to based on a mutual concern for each other's health.

Dimitri gives Dedue a look, "talking to who will help a lot more, Dedue?"

"Felix, of course," he replies, as unfazed as ever.

"And what makes you so sure that Felix is the subject on my mind, hm?"

"You have a 'worrying about Felix' face, Your Highness. It's very similar to your "I'm getting a migraine' face."

Dimitri frowns. Felix has been the cause of many of Dimitri's migraines in the past so Dedue has a point.

"Fair enough. Then what makes you assume I'm avoiding him? I have been awfully busy as of late and Felix spends most of his time in the training grounds."

"Despite your new responsibilities you have also been spending a reasonable amount of time in the training grounds yet I have not seen you spar together once, something you still did regularly even when we were students at the academy and Felix hated you."

Dimitri deflates, he knows when to admit defeat and honestly he doesn't know why he thought he could successfully lie to Dedue in the first place.

"Talking to Felix is never easier, Dedue," he sighs.

Dedue's face softens, "You'd be surprised, Your Highness. He's matured a lot over the past five years and I truly believe he wants to rekindle your friendship as much as you do. Not mention his recent… biological changes have actually served to make him more flexible as a person."

"That may be true with everyone else Dedue but my mere presence is usually enough to annoy Felix."

Dedue sighs, "If it is worrying you so much, Your Highness, I could accompany you to talk to Felix."

Dimitri perks up. If Dedue's there, he'll be less nervous and therefore less likely to screw something up! "That would be amazing, Dedue!"

____________________

These days there are actually a number of places one could look for Felix at. With the cat spell and the passing of Lord Rodrigue, Felix's time spent at the training grounds has been cut down significantly. It's probably for the best that Dedue decided to accompany His Highness or else he wouldn't have been able to find Felix at all.

The Crown Prince of Faerghus is very shocked to find his oldest friend curled up under a tree napping.

"Does he do this often?"

Dedue allows himself a small smile. While this whole situation was very weird and confusing at first, most of them had gotten used to it by now. It's amusing to see someone struggle the way they did initially.

"Yes, Your Highness. We discovered the hard way that Felix needs more then a full night's sleep, he gets too exhausted if he doesn't take regular naps."

"Oh."

Dedue decides to spare His Highness the agony and kneels down next to Felix to gently shake him awake, It doesn't take much since pretty much all of Felix's senses are enhanced now. Felix yawns in a way that shows off all of his new teeth and Dedue thinks he hears His Highness gulp at the sight. Dedue reflects on how much things have changed given that he is no longer disturbed by the sight of Felix licking his hand and cleaning behind his ears.

Once he is finished Felix looks up at the two of them, squinting with disdain, "What do you want? Is something wrong?"

Dedue looks to His Highness in anticipation. This is his cue.

His Highness looks about as nervous as if he'd just been asked to dance in the Heron cup but does his best to put on the image of a noble king. An act that's actually more likely to piss Felix off.

"Uh… Nothing is wrong, Felix. I simply felt that…" His Highness takes a deep breath, "I simply felt that we are long overdue for a talk."

Dedue keeps his expression neutral. As deeply as he cares for His Highness, even he can't deny that sometimes the things he says are just so… lame.

Felix continues to squint at them with disdain, "Why do you make it sound like I'm a student who's been misbehaving? Are you making a run for Seteth's job?"

This is the main reason Dedue felt he should tag along. It takes His Highness much time to build up the confidence to talk to Felix about serious matters and it often only takes one slash from Felix's cutting words to bring it all back crumbling down. In a near instant, Dimitri's kingly demeanour is gone and all that is left is a stammering wall of muscle in a fancy cape.

And Felix hates stammering

"I… uh… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… um… what I meant to say was…"

Even without the flicking of his tail, Dedue would be able to sense how annoyed Felix is getting.

"Your Highness," Dedue steps in, when Dimitri turns to face him Dedue mimics taking in a deep breath with his arms. Dimitri does as shown and smiles at Dedue gratefully.

"What I meant, Felix," Dimitri tries again in a much more casual tone, "is that a lot has changed very quickly recently and I would like the opportunity to catch up with you, As you are someone I care about deeply. If that's okay?"

Felix's tail stops it's flicking and instead falls beside him and Dedue barely manages to contain his sigh of relief. He'd hate for his words to His Highness earlier- about Felix maturing- to have been false. Felix looks over at him for a brief moment before going to back to Dimitri, Dedue can just see how his eyes a darting around, evidence of how Felix still dislikes making eye contact.

"I… guess that would be okay, " Felix extends,

"but in return I expect you to train with me... It would be bad if our so-called Savior King became sloppy." The last part is said in a rush, as though said as an afterthought. Dedue can see the truth behind Felix's words, he clearly just wants to spend time with his friend again.

"I believe my work here is done, Your Highness. I will take my leave now and let you two talk." Dedue gives a small bow to His Highness, to which he smiles back fondly, and turns to Felix one more time, "And Felix? I ask that we do not have a repeat of what happened with Sylvain in the dining hall."

With a smirk and the sound of Felix muttering, "that wasn't my fault." Dedue makes his way back to the monastery.

_____________________

Dimitri does everything in his power not to stare longingly after Dedue. Just because Felix accepted the invitation doesn't mean he won't still need help! Come back! Dimitri's mind screams desperately, although he doesn't let the emotion show on his face as Felix would likely see it as a sign of weakness. Not that Dimitri is feeling very strong now that it's just the two of them. It feels as though the weight of their entire history together is sitting on his shoulders.

"So…" Dimitri starts, not really sure where to go from here. Everything he has to say seems like it will upset Felix.

"Oh just come out with it already, will you? You've been staring for weeks while simultaneously avoiding me. I'm not an idiot so just come out and say what you want to say."

Dimitri pauses. Sure Felix is giving him permission to say whatever he wants but it feels like a trap… on the other hand, being dishonest could land him in just as much strife.

"You… have cat ears." Dimitri settles on.

Felix scoffs, "That's the best you've got? You really are a moron."

"And also a tail." Dimitri continues.

'Oh really, King Obvious? I hadn't noticed, is that what those weird growths on my body are? Thank you for blessing me with this truly enlightening knowledge."

Dimitri grimaces but then thinks on what Dedue would want him to do, "Well don't ask me to speak my thoughts if you are only going to get upset upon hearing them. I realise it's obvious to everyone but me but I haven't had the time to process it yet."

Felix's ears fold back forward and his tail relaxes again when Dimitri hadn't even noticed they'd changed in the first place. He smiles a little at the thought that Felix is once again back to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Albeit, not by choice.

"So…" Felix looks at the ground near Dimitri's feet.

"So," Dimitri responds.

"I have cat ears… and also a tail." Said tail is currently moving back forward in a rather languid wave movement. Dimitri doesn't know if that means something or if it is simply an idle motion.

"Do you… feel very different?" Dimitri asks hesitantly

"Um�� Not physically speaking. I didn’t really know how much I'd changed until the… differences made themselves known."

"You're um… you're ears… they look very soft," Dimitri looks away, feeling the blush on his cheeks. He knows Felix appreciates honesty but this is so embarrassing.

"Go ahead," Felix says. When Dimitri turns to look at him Felix has his head tilted forward and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Umm… I'm not sure what-"

"As I said earlier, you've been staring for weeks! So just go ahead and touch them already, I know you want to!"

Dimitri's entire chest fills with warmth and happiness. This is exactly how he wanted things to go! He didn't think it could possibly happen given that Felix is Felix but perhaps Dedue had a point about him maturing since Dimitri's been gone.

Tentatively, he reaches a hand out to where Felix is bowed and does an experimental scratch. A shiver runs through Felix's body and Dimitri feels him pushing up against his hands. Ah, so this is why Felix was so eager to allow him this miracle, he's getting something out of it as well.

His ears are just as soft as Dimitri had imagined and after a little while of scratching something new happens. Purring. Felix is purring . Dimitri doesn't understand how on earth he is making that sound but it is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard of.

They stay like that for perhaps a couple minute or so when Dimitri feels that he's probably pushed Felix to the absolute limit of his patience for the day and gently starts to retract his hand. Only, there is suddenly a hand clasped over his on Felix's head.

"Who told you to stop? Huh?" Felix is glaring up at him and holds Dimitri's hand there until he starts to scratch again.

After a while longer, Dimitri thinks that Felix probably isn't going to let him go anytime soon and requests that they move to sit beneath the tree Felix was originally napping under. They end up staying there for what feels like hours, mostly just in comfortable silence filled only with the sound of Felix's purring but with the occasional small talk. Discussing things that happened over the years, what else had changed for Felix. By the time Dedue returns to fetch them for dinner Felix has dozed off and Dimitri doesn't feel far behind him.

#felix hugo fraldarius #dedue molinaro #dedue fire emblem #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fanfiction #the words of me

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makapatag · 4 years

Text

GUMAMELA, a Maharlika short story

GUMAMELA

[hibiscus]

[art by @msquared_art on Twitter]

IT WAS NIGHT in one part of the planet known as Pasinsya, and day in the other. It circled around a halogen sun. It had two natural satellites: one that was green, covered in trees and budding with dambanas, natural shrines to the diwata, and another that was a simple stone gray, untouched, for a celestial diwata, intelligent, nature-personification consciousnesses that inhabited various celestial bodies, lived within it, and watched over Pasinsya. These two moons were known as Berde and Niyebe.

It was in the night where the first ships came and established an outpost in a hidden, darkened ravine. They rode on strange ships of crystallized silk harnessing dying star drives, with murals and paintings scrawled upon the undersides of their ships, depicting waves. This symbolic-creation technology is what allowed these strange heron-draconic xenobeings to encompass most of their galaxy, and what gave them the privilege to expand out and start conquering others.

But this planet, Pasinsya, was not their planet. It was not their home. It was home to a number of people--one that lived by the border of night and day. Watch with me, fellow readers, as I speak into existence and then solidify, calcify, and preserve their endearing truths through my thought-writings.

This planet was--

/// WARNING: XENOBEING SALIMBAL DETECTED HEADING TOWARD YOUR PLANET’S TRAJECTORY. EXPECT HELP WITHIN 3 DAYS. BE BRAVE. IF MERCY IS UNAVOIDABLE, SURRENDER. DEATH COMES FOR ALL. LONG LIVE THE LAKANATE. ///

--oh! And as you can see: the warning came without preamble.

It was a simple message. One that was broadcast across all of the Panuos units of the quaint little barangay of Dulo, a barangay of quaint bamboo huts sitting beside concrete three floor apartment complexes, all radiating from a single stone chapel and a large and longer hut made of limestone.

The message buzzed Panuos units, waking the entire barangay up in the middle of the night. Cryptic. Like a thief, a nightmare. A message that only served to tighten the constricting ropes of anxiety already snaking about the barangay-folks’ necks.

In the morning, the barangay folk of Barangay Santolan arose immediately to panic and distress. The people took to the plaza, which was outfitted with a neat (yet unfortunately unmaintained) fountain depicting a slender figure wielding a staff topped with a five pointed star on one hand, and then a simple bolo blade on the other. That was made of stone.

The city hall was wide open. The people voiced their uncertainties by virtue of screaming it out and creating a massive ball of pure non-understandable noise.

“Ginang Akina orders silence,” bellowed a large man to the side of the elderly woman standing above a makeshift bamboo platform. The man was clearly modded: a shock of white hair, half a body made of strange steel and flesh organic prosthetics, which had strange bamboo tubes sticking out the side.

Ginang Akina cleared her throat before she spoke. “As you all know, we have been sent a distressing message from the SD-SK itself, of whose mandala we are part of. Firstly, we have no reason for panic or alarm. I have been told that the SD-SK are sending passenger ships to evacuate us before the Xenobeings attack.

“But the message said death comes for all!” said a stray, nondescript voice arising from the firmament of words.

“That is true,” replied the Maginoo. She flourished, making sure that her ankle long barong made of pina fiber was clean and immaculate and hugged her figure. The barong was, after all, one of the few uniform formal wear in Arkipelago. “However, the SD-SK will not abandon us, especially since we have been so integral to being a porting station and trading station for Horizon goods. We must all have faith.”

More noise, more arguing.

It eventually awoke-- no. He never slept. He wasn’t able to sleep after the message. At 0300 in the morning, he simply sat in his balcony, staring outside. He wore a simple pull-over sweater made of light rattan fiber, and pants that billowed before cuffing and hugging his ankles. Of course, the most striking feature about him was his white-pink hair, which sometimes seemed to glow when struck with light in the darkness.

He gazed at the plaza, sitting, fiddling with a leaf that shone pure blue, which he found when he fell into a cave to the far north, right at the border. The smell of hot porridge and coffee and freshly baked bread wafted from the street below him. Behind him, the door slid open, and a hand placed a cup of coffee on the small coffee table. “Hey, are you okay?”

His brother, an older one. The one that had even lighter hair than he did. He was also taller, slender, and wore glasses which only emphasized his gray eyes. A lady-killer, through and through. “Hoy, Paolo.”

Paolo nodded, forcing irritation to flee him. “I am, I am. Sorry. Thanks for the coffee.”

“The message kept you up, huh?”

Paolo nodded.

“You afraid for Santolan?”

Paolo nodded again. “If only I was older… I could’ve had a Meka by now. I could’ve been a Maharlika, and defended Santolan.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, alright. Don’t do that.”

“I know that but... “ Paolo sighed. “Look, Alvaro, this is the first time in 10 years you’ve been here.”

“And what are you trying to say?”

“You obviously haven’t grown very attached to this barangay like I have.”

A silence. One eventually torn down by a scoff. “Sure, you could believe that. But right now, we have no choice. The Xenobeing attacks have been escalating lately. They’ve been invading more and more of Arkipelago. We’re undermanned, undefended, and abandoned. We have to evacuate.”

Paolo breathed again. “If only I had a Meka. If only Lola hadn’t died so soon and trained me more.”

Another silence. Paolo was leaning with both elbows on the balcony. Alvaro stared at him, perhaps longing, before sighing and ruffling his pink hair. “Don’t dwell in the past. Keep your ears open for updates. Diwa knows we’ll need it. Oh, and Aling Apolina has some lugaw ready downstairs. Just come down, alright?”

Paolo heard the door slide closed behind him.

With another breath, Paolo pushed himself off of the balcony. He couldn’t sulk now. He had to do something. If he didn’t he was sure he was going to live with regret.

He quickly jumped and leapt off of the balcony, pushing himself off of the stone railings. His hands caught a galvanized steel rooftop, and he pulled himself over and up. He strode across that rooftop, reached its edge, and then leapt off of it once again, this time using the propulsion systems installed onto his boots to propel him further. An entire street, crossed.

Wind whipped at his hair, sending his oversized shirt in every direction, and he hopped from roof-to-roof until he managed to climb up to the highest point of Barangay Santolan: the bell tower of the Chapel of Saint Abuayen. He pushed himself to the top of the bell tower and sat by an unused scaffolding. From there, he basked in the view of his Barangay, his beloved barangay. The City Hall, the broken fountain, the basketball court (3 of them in one street), the Church itself, his house which stood atop Aling Apolina’s Gotohan place.

“Oy! Get down from there, Paolo!”

Paolo looked down and saw Manong Juancho, wearing a simple black robe and holding a bamboo broom. “You might get yourself hurt!”

“It’s alright, I have a scaffolding!”

“Aish! That doesn’t matter! Get down here, you!”

Paolo rolled his eyes, pushed himself off of the scaffolding, and fell straight down the bell tower. “Ay, my God!” he heard Manong Juancho curse as he fell.

He activated the propulsion systems which pushed him up and out and into the main chamber of the bell tower. “You seem to have forgotten that my brother is an Altar-Factory engineer.”

Manong Juancho was holding himself up by holding on to the bell tower’s stone with one hand. His other was on his chest, grasping his heart. “Do not ever do that again.”

Paolo couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, alright, I apologize.”

“Bah! You always say that, but you do it again anyway! You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” said Manong Juancho. Silence again as he waited for the Manong to collect himself. “The barangay folk are in a flurry. We’re all preparing for evacuation. So should you.”

Paolo swallowed. “That’d be hard to do, Manong.”

Isidoro didn’t reply right away. There was a pause, a slight nuance of quiet. “Well, get along then. Get your nosy pink hair out of the bell tower.”

Paolo simply nodded. With another flourish, he flipped backwards and out of the belltower, and used the propulsion systems to buffet his fall.

The plaza floor was made of rounded stones. A beautiful kind. It was marred by footsteps and bootprints as the people had already begun to disperse, some of them preparing for evacuation, others hurriedly getting their stalls and booths and shops open. In the city plaza, Ginang Akina and her body modded cohort had already left, seemingly retreating back to the City Hall.

Paolo walked by a simple old man wearing a shirt, some shorts, and a dirty, greasy apron. In one hand he had a strange contraption: a circuit board. “Hm?” asked Paolo, tapping on the Panday’s sweaty shoulder. He had heavy dark circles around his eyes.” “Hey, Panday Ciriano: what’s that in your hand?”

“A circuit board, anak. But don’t bother me right now. I’ve got some preparing to do.”

Paolo opened his mouth to say something more, but then decided against it. Biting his tongue, he smiled and nodded. Instead, he turned around and walked toward the two establishments north of the city plaza: the stone chapel of the Priest and the bamboo hut of the Katalonan.

He opened the door of the chapel, revealing to him rows of pews and the smell of burning incense. By the altar stood two figures: one dressed in a simple black frock, and another wearing an intricate white robe over a beautifully designed okir vest and bahag.

“Father Isidore, Katalonan Silongga.” Paolo’s voice echoed against the walls of the establishment.

The two religious figures turned to face him. “Paolo, iho,” said Father Isidore. “What are you doing here? You should be back with Alvaro, preparing to evacuate!”

Paolo swallowed. “W-Well, Father, y’see… I…”

Katalonan Silongga shook her head, her white hair cascading down her broad shoulders. “I can see his heart,” said the Katalonan. “And his heart wishes to stay and to fight.”

Father Isidore’s eyes widened a bit at first, before he turned that surprise into a breath and a smile. “Iho, you are young. You have a long life ahead of you. We have no means to fight back against the Xenobeings! They will annihilate us.”

“But we can’t--!”

“Iho,” Father Isidore cut in. “You wish to become a Maharlika, yes? You wish to make us proud and fight for us in Arkipelago. How can you do that if you are dead and gone?”

“We can fight. We can! If only we had… If only we had a Meka. A NEO Gen Meka. Did the SD-SK even give a time for when their reinforcements will arrive? They didn’t!”

Father Isidore shook his head and sighed. He turned to the Katalonan. “Katalonan, speak some sense into this child. I have to attend to the evacuation efforts. Peace be with the both of you.” And with that, he walked out of the chapel through the back room.

Paolo stood resolute. He couldn’t help but think that this was not the last thing they could do. There was something more. His burning youth spurred him onward, melting away any doubts of death or non-existence of any way to fight back.

“Your heart beats just like your Lola’s.”

“Wh-What?”

“I was young when your Lola lived here, in Barangay Santolan. You do remember your Lola, right?”

Paolo nodded. Of course. She was the reason why he wanted to be a Maharlika in the first place. “Yes. She was Barangay Santolan’s only Maharlika, pledging her loyalty to Paramount Datu Prakash Arsiya of the Sandatang Sangkatauhan.”

“Her blood boils in your veins, anak. I’m sure this stubbornness and hard-headedness is the effect of that cause. You will not fall. You will not leave this home place. Just like your Lola.”

“But… Lola Zenaida is dead, isn’t she?”

“She is, with a proper burial in the Grave of Heroes. She died fighting against remnants of various Corporations from the Corporation Wars, after all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“The truth in your heart is hard to shadow and obfuscate. My beloved anak, west of this Barangay, in the Pagitan Falls beside the borderline of Day and Night, you will find what your Lola has left for you to find. This is a gigantic gamble on my part, but you Paolo… you may not have the skill, or the attributes, but you have the heart. And perhaps, that will be enough.”

Paolo had prepared up a backpack filled with essentials and gear and told Alvaro that he was going to the evacuation site. It seemed, though, that Alvaro didn’t seem too invested in listening to Paolo, as he sat in front of his LiPa and typed away, a worried visage wrapped about his face.

He walked to the edge of the barangay, where the dirt road shot into the bamboo foliage. He wore something simple: a white camisa with brown pants and some slippers.

“Oy, Paolo!” He looked up to see Josefina running after him. Her short hair only cupped her brown face, and she wore a simple white shirt underneath a waist-high skirt that was woven with magnificent geometric okir designs. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Fifi, don’t bother. Please stay behind and help Aling Apolina.”

She pouted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I…” Paolo rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the sky, his face pulled into a pained grimace. “I’m going to Pagitan.”

“The Falls? What for?”

“There is something important there that I must find. It’s… a mission given to me by Katalonan Silongga.”

“Bullshit. Don’t try to excuse your way out of explaining this, pink boy.”

Paolo bit his lip. “But it’s true! Look, go back to the barangay now and let me handle this.”

“Too late, I’m coming with you. Do you even remember where Pagitan is?”

He didn’t. “I do! Please, don’t come with me. I can’t risk it--”

“Come on then. I know a route that can lead us there in an hour flat. Well enough time for us to get there, do whatever stupid shenanigans you want to do, then get back here and finish evacuation efforts.”

Fifi was 2 years younger than Paolo, but he couldn’t help but think that she knows more about the world than he does. Her speech, her gait, all spoke to him that he could definitely hold her own, alone, against the world.

But Paolo knew that in Arkipelago, they didn’t do things alone. There was always family.

“Fifi...” spoke Paolo as he heard the rushing of Pagitan. Up ahead, he could already see the pall of darkness that was the Night Side of the planet of Pasinsya, this tidally-locked planet.

“We’re almost there.”

“...Why did you decide to come with me, anyway?”

Fifi didn’t answer.

Eventually, they arrived at a larger clearing. They were at the base of Pagitan Falls. They walked upstream the river where the waterfall flowed. There, the great height of the Pagitan dizzied even Paolo.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes, this is Pagitan Falls.” To the right of the falls Paolo could see a few bamboo huts on stilts, the huts they used to rest in or eat in while bathing in the falls.

“Alright, now can you tell me the truth? Why did you come here to Pagitan?”

Paolo turned and looked at Fifi and sighed. He placed both of his hands on both of Fifi’s shoulders. “You promise not to tell anyone?” Despite seeming so old, Fifi was still a head shorter than Paolo.

“Yes, yes.”

“Katalonan Silongga has told me that my Lola Zenaida left something for me to find here in Pagitan Falls. That’s why I’ve come here.”

“And you came here instead of preparing for evac because you think it’ll help you fight against the Xenobeings, didn’t you?”

Paolo licked his lips. “It’s a bit more complicated than that but--”

Fifi pulled herself from Paolo’s grasp, stomped the grass. “God’s balls--you’re so damn easy to read, Pao! We can’t do this. I’m taking you back.”

“What? No. We’re already here. I’m doing this. I can’t leave Barangay Santolan behind.”

“Yes you can. We can find a better, prettier place than this in some other planet. But right now, we have to leave.”

“No! We have to stay and fight--” And Fifi struck Paolo across the cheek.

“I really do have to knock some sense into you, huh? We can’t stay here. How many times do I have to say it? We are going to die. We are going to die here if we don’t go now.”

“No. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, so what, you’re a Maharlika now? You’re all high and mighty,? The cavalry? Give me a break, Paolo! You’re going to get yourself killed! There’s nothing here, and even if there is, say, a Meka, you wouldn’t even know how to pilot it.”

“I’ve done simulations. I can do it.”

“Bullshit!” And another strike from Fifi. Paolo retaliated then, grabbing the Fifi by both wrists, and then rushing and pinning her against a nearby boulder.

Mouth near her ear he said, “You’re going to stop, and you’re going to help me find what it is that my Lola has left for me to find.”

“No. I’m going to knock some sense into you, and you’re going to come back with me. I don’t want you to die.”

“If you hate me so much, just leave me alone then!”

Fifi looked at Paolo with wet eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Her voice cracked.

Paolo opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from behind him stopped him. “Oh, won’t you two kiss already?” The voice was human, but accompanied by three more layers of voices, as if four people were talking at the same time.

Paolo turned around, whipping out a revolver he had at his waist.

Behind them was a simple woman, sitting by the riverbank, white haired and floating in the wind as if she was underwater. She wore simple garb: a tapis, bakya, and a vest wrapping around her chest, exposing her midriff. Her eyes were pure black, without any irises, only night sclera.

“Wh-Who are you?”

She turned her face to him. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”

“What?”

Sighing, the lady rose to her feet. “Follow me, descendant. Your Lola sure had some strange failsafes and contingencies. Who knew she could foresee something so distant and variable as a Xenobeing invasion and a young man that happened to be her grandson trying to fight back against it? Ah, the Diwa is mysterious, sometimes.”

“What are you---”

“Follow me,” commanded the woman, and Paolo did follow.

The two of them walked up the lake formed by the falls, their feet touching the water but not getting wet. Paolo’s heart raced when he realized that he wasn’t falling into the water.

Eventually they arrived in front of the rushing waterfall. With a wave of the woman being’s hand, the falls split into two, defying gravity. Behind the falls was a grand door, made of gold and stone, with a simple red orb in the middle, wrapped by large roots and vines.

The woman spoke: “UWIAN SILA opens the door.”

The red orb dilated and then turned into a burning green; the roots and vines receded like retreating snakes. The stone gate shuddered and opened...

...eventually showing a huge hangar within. A complex of roots and vines, with each root and vine having a different computer and machine interface upon them, with holograms emanating from solidified leaves and branches. The heat of the maintaining fire bellowed from within, like a beating heart.

All the roots led back to a single large holding contraption, resembling a giant strangler fig. The branches and roots and vines of this giant strangler fig all were positioned in such a way to hold up a twenty foot tall… humanoid suit.

“A Meka…” The word escaped Paolo’s lips.

“You Lola’s,” said the woman. “She called it: Himagsikan 7.”

“Himagsikan 7,” repeated Paolo, breathless.

One can see the wooden skeleton frame beneath the burning white and gold platings that protected its mainframe. The simple head which was designed to look like it wore a wide-brimmed salakot. Its chest and arms were medium in weight, but its legs were heavy and bulky, with burning lights to indicate its power. It held a round mace in one hand, and a Kapre cannon in the other. Perhaps the most striking thing is that its shoulder mount is one that gave it a set of gigantic arms.

“You are to pilot that to combat the threat of the invading Xenobeings.”

“Can I do it?”

“With my help? Yes. Now, you must go back to your Katalonan to perform the Chaining Ritual so that I can help you pilot this.”

“Understood.” And Paolo ran off to Fifi and the two of them ran back to the barangay.

A few hours later, they returned. On the wet land beside the falls, they conducted the ritual. “You are sure about this? Chaining a Diwata to you is something most Maharlika have to mentally prepare for.”

UWIAN SILA appeared before them. “I will be doing it temporarily, so as to not overload his mental capacity. But I’m sure he can handle it. He has been having some preliminary Maharlika training thanks to his Lola’s antics.”

Paolo remembered then: the meditation exercises, the heavy weight lifting, the bathing in ice.

Was that all preparing him for this moment?

“Very well then.” And Katalonan Silongga began the ritual. A long winded one where she danced around Paolo sitting on the ground, with UWIAN SILA sitting on the ground across him. It was an intricate dance, one interspersed with incoherent babbling and thrusts of a spear tipped with a stone blade.

He knew it ended when UWIAN SILA’s eyes turned white to him. She then closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Paolo’s and Paolo was overcome with the feeling of cold. Just like what my Lola put me through.

It makes sense, now.

Paolo didn’t know he had his eyes closed until he opened them, and he saw the world a bit differently now. He can see the flames of the living things, the flow of life in every stone, the voice of every tree.

“I can see.”

“Kalagyo initiated. Good day, Paolo de Gumamela. I am UWIAN SILA, a Defender Principle Kalagyo.”

Katalonan Silongga knelt in front of him. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Paolo nodded. He forced himself up, and found that Fifi and Alvaro were both there to help him to his feet. He looked around, and he saw that Father Isidore and even Ginang Akina and her bodyguard were there. Paolo didn’t remember inviting them: he only invited the Katalonan and Panday Ciriano to look at the Meka.

“Wh-what…?”

“Breathe, Paolo,” said Alvaro. “Fifi, lay him against the boulder.” Fifi nodded, and she pulled him over to the stone to lie against it.

Alvaro turned to the three barangay heads. “Now, I have some important news to impart, and I did this away from the barangay so as to avoid eavesdroppers that would share this news and no doubt cause the barangay to erupt into chaotic panic.”

“Out with it, engineer,” said Ginang Akina.

“I traced the frequency and contacted SD-SK and have learned the following things. One: the SD-SK never sent that warning message. Two: the warning message used the SD-SK frequency, but didn’t come from a known source.”

“What?” The priest clenched his fist.

“I called for reinforcements to come immediately so that we could evacuate but…”

“But we are a Horizon Planet.”

“Yes,” said Alvaro. “They said it would take at least 5 days to get a passenger salimbal here for the evacuation.”

Paolo forced himself to his feet. Instead of feeling dizzier, he felt lighter, more acute. “Then I have to defend Barangay Santolan.”

“How do you think we can do that?” asked the priest. “We don’t have a Meka! A working one!”

It was then that Panday Ciriano walked out of the hangar behind the falls with gloved arm raised. “I got the Gahum Generator working!”

“Well,” said Ginang Akina. “There you have it.”

Father Isidore still shook his head. “You still can’t just put a young boy like Pao alone up against a damned Xenobeing army!”

“I just have to hold them off until you guys get to higher and safer ground,” said Paolo.

Ginang Akina nodded. “He’s right. To the southeast of here there is a safe outpost. Abandoned, but inhabitable. We can set the evacuation coordinates there and we could make the entire barangay travel there.”

“We can do that,” said the Katalonan. “We have horses and a few lifter suits don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“This is a fool’s errand!”

“You are not making sense here, Father,” said the Katalonan. “Come, we must break the news to the barangay folk.”

Alvaro turned to his brother. “Paolo, I know you have the blood of Lola Zenaida in you, but please, be careful. I will be sending you a message once we are in a safe distance. When you get it, leave the battlefield, alright? Come home safe.”

Fifi hugged Paolo from behind. “Please come home safe.”

Paolo nodded. “I will.”

“UWIAN SILA, activate the Meka,” said Paolo as he stood in front of the Himagsikan 7, wearing a silver and purple piloting suit that his Lola left behind for him in the Hangar’s dresser. Behind him, Panday Ciriano worked the various floating holographic displays that showcased mechanical information.

“Activating Himagsikan 7.” The Meka moved, then. Its chest burst open, revealing the cockpit within, with a tree-like spine that would connect to the Maharlika’s neural system. Its right hand let go of the mace and scooped Paolo into its chest.

Paolo settled into the seat, and the spiritual Diwa filaments connected to the piloting suit, which then seeped into Paolo’s own soul.

“Diwa Filaments connected. Soul subjectivity 50% sync.”

Paolo fought down the urge to puke. He opened his eyes and holographic screens appeared, seemingly projected by wooden branches from which more Diwa Filaments erupted.

“Let go of your mind, Paolo.”

Right, the meditation training.

He breathed, and let himself be empty.

UWIAN SILA’s voice echoed: “Neural network mapped. Soul upload complete. Soul subjectivity full sync. All systems engaged. Combat mode off. Safety engaged.”

“Himagsikan 7, GHW-S Ynaguiguinid balangkas unit. Ready for launch.”

Paolo moved, and even though he did not move within the Meka, his soul moved the gigantic construction. Step by step, every burning neural synapse burning his entire spirit as he forged forward, ahead, and soon, Himagsikan 7 was out of the waterfall.

He looked up, and through the THIRD-EYE Module of the head-unit of Himagsikan 7, he saw the invisible dragon alien laying by the bank of the lake, lying in wait.

As his soul grew accustomed to his armor, he moved faster. He raised his hand, and the Meka moved, its left hand pulling out a gun from a folding hip compartment. He levelled it and fired at the invisible thing.

It bolted to the right, completely evading the bullet, and shot straight up to Himagsikan 7. The soul, however, cuts like wind.

As the xenobeing, the Tsang-kko as they are called, these dragon aliens with bodies like serpents and manes like flowing thunder, burst toward him, its veil dissipated, revealing his shimmering azure form.

In a matter of seconds, the large gripping Mountain arms of Himagsikan 7 was upon the azure thing, and gripping it firmly, keeping the snapping maw of the dragon alien a few feet away from the head unit of the Himagsikan.

With mountain-shaking force, Himagsikan 7 heaved, and then threw the dragon alien toward the bank of the lake once again, where it crashed hard against the earth, and it flailed, and before it could get on its feet, Himagsikan 7 had used propulsors to jettison itself out of the lake, and onto the bank.

Himagsikan 7’s warhammer was high up, and it fell like a smith’s hammer on an anvil.

For all their god-like visage, the Tsang-kko still had bones, and all of them shattered when the hammer fell upon it. However, it didn’t give up. It flailed when it got hit, and then as Himasikan 7 was raising its arms, it shot up to push the Meka backwards and into the water.

Thinking quick, Paolo used the Mountain Arms to keep the Meka stable and to prevent it from falling backwards, and then used those same Arms to push Himagsikan 7 forward. Earth and lakewater were kicked up in large amounts, a corona of nature, as the Himagsikan used the momentum to bring down another hammer upon the Tsang-Kko, which was only beginning to get up once again, using its internal flight glands to float into the air.

The hammer slammed and embedded the dragon alien to the ground. It flailed, still. “REACTION AGIMAT: Aftershock Hydraulics, activate!”

“Activating AGIMAT,” replied the Meka, and the gears whirred, pistons pistoned. Movement exploded in a burst of speed, and the pistol was suddenly, aimed, locked, loaded, and fired. The bullet going straight through the head of the being.

It fell, limp, the winds about it dissipating. Himagsikan 7 stood triumphant, an omen of things to come.

The thundering of the Xenobeings’ salimbal echoed across the field. Panday Ciriano stood, riding a single machine lifter with rubber wheels like a tank’s, far behind him, amongst the bamboo shoots.

The Xenobeings didn’t need Meka. The Tsang-kko’s invading army stood by the precipice of night and day, their eyes revealing nothing but bloodlust. Their salimbals stood at ready to assist, but the frontlines burned with horrifying conquest.

Their larger units were larger than Himagsikan 7. Huge floating dragon-herons with behemoth scythes for claws. Burnings stars for eyes. The smaller frontline units were smaller power-armored ones, but none of them were humanoid. The Tsang-Kko had glands for defying gravity. It was their biology. They were floating serpentine dragons, not unlike the Eastern Dragons of legend.

And there they hovered, at the edge of darkness. The grass dead beneath their feet. The wind like water to their souls.

And then, with a crack of thunder, the Dragon-Heron Horde sounded a trumpet. One that reached to the heavens to make known their intent. At that trumpet sound came the beating of the drums, to signal the march. Each beat, more and more waves of Dragon-Heron Xenobeings revealed themselves from the Night Side of the planet.

The Dragon-Heron Horde charged forward, erupting from the darkness, showcasing their full might: biotechnologic marvels, scales instead of steel, green ghost flames powering flying airships with silk sails.

And Himagsikan 7 surged forward to meet them.

#filipino #mecha #fantasy #science fiction #short story #writing #maharlika #fiction #mythology #folklore #science fantasy

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akimotokiyomori-blog · 6 years

Text

Pyre by Candle

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The darkness of the room was shattered by the burst of flame from a single candle. It was not enough light to see beyond the desk where it sat. Two iridescent eyes the only companion to such dancing flame. Staring into its glowing heart as if it were somehow alive.

Upon the desk, his hands rose to place a single and ornate box. The metal hinges had long oxidized and yet the joints were well polished as if the box was constantly opened and closed. Slowly his fingers traced the lid and pushed it open. Inside was an exquisitely crafted hair comb, carved from bone. It was centuries old, an heirloom one could suppose. The emblem of a dragon surrounded by blossoms, carved into its centre. The white of the bone had yellowed and browned, cracked in a few places, but had been fixed with molten gold in Kintsukuroi. His gaze lingered on it a while until he looked up to the darkness of the room and spoke to it as an old companion.

I have often wondered what emptiness was. I had thought I knew it upon the battlefield, the raging war against an enemy. Life’s last breath upon my blade as silence takes hold of what a moment ago was chaos. Yet it is not an emptiness that I wondered of, but hollowness. One is not the same as the other. Hollowness is something you -feel-.

Like all things you do not truly understand it until you are forced to compare it to something known. How does one know what hollowness feels like if they have never felt whole? Perhaps it is enough to have hoped to feel whole? That such utter hollowness is a reminder of such cursed ways and broken paths. Karma’s reminder that we reap what we sow? Yet here I am, forced to reflect on such selfish and driving notions as my own redemption? A promise that was within reach and like sand I held too tightly? No. It was in the keeping of such a promise that I let it go. Condemning myself to this accursed form so that she might live.

Oh, and what a world she has been left in. Am I angry at her? At them? At him? No. I.. am consumed by a force I do not understand and yet I revel in it. My freedom has never been in reach until now, and then when it was I let it go. My wrath has turned toward a different form of prison. One in which the last wish of a passing moment will shatter the moon and a thousand stars will be added to the heavens to mark their story. The moment a Heron gave it’s wing so that a dragon might fly and her people would be given a choice…”

His eyes closed a moment as he leaned forward. He once again stared into the flame, watching it dance upon the single ember. A smirk grew on his lips as if hearing a whisper. His jaw set and his hollowness turned to resolve.

“You will find peace as I wear your sins and mine upon this cursed soul.”

The candle was blown out and once again the light was snuffed from his world.

@rebel-and-rouge

#rp #balmung #mourning

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liminoidal · 6 years

Note

All the 50 qs for Icio

My fish kid?? 0^0 im stoked

Their age? - They are 420 (blaze it)

Their sexuality/sexual preference? - They can be interested in anyone, but let’s be real, they have only ever been interested in Juni (so Junisexual?)

Any siblings/Only child? - They are an only child by birth, but they like to think they have a found family rn.

Their favourite season? - There aren’t seasons on Dryas like Earth? But they prefer the colder months cuz they prefer long skirts and that lifestyle is not hopping during the warm and humid months.

Who were/are their parents/guardians? - Their birth mother was a bitch, their birth father likely didn’t know they existed, but the Templar Koda (who raised them) was pretty chill.

Their gender? - They are a fish person who was raised by a bunch of trees, gender is the least of their problems.

Their date of birth? - October 23--yes they are the dreaded Scorpio.

What clothing style? - They love long skits and crop tops, and since they don’t need the templar cowl, they love sleeveless shirts.

What is their favourite food after a break-up? - They’ve never had a break-up? The closest they got was when they weren’t able to talk to Juni, and then they just kinda... Didn’t eat lmao.

Their favourite thing to do after a break-up? - They are a meditation freak normally, but when Juni is mad at them they meditate like constantly. Also, painting nails is super relaxing in their opinion.

What happens in the ‘honeymoon phase’ for this character? - I mean them and Juni are soulmates, so they just tease her and also privately worship her, and also like. So much sex. Seriously it’s kinda embarrassing at some point.

How many serious relationships have they been in? - One? With Pan, praise be to him. Lmao, jk, they have only ever been with Juni because templars take a vow of celibacy.

What is their nationality? - They are Dryad by nurture, but half-Theuthidan half-human by nature.

What languages do they speak? - They speak Dryad, Common, Binary, and learned Theuthidan curses just to curse them out.

What is their profession/Education? - They were educated as a templar, so they have extensive magic and religious education.

Their favourite comfort food? - They drink tea to be comforted.

What’s a food they hate? - They hate the idea of fish. Even if they hate Theuthida, it just makes them viscerally uncomfortable.

Their music taste? - They are the person that turns on the “lo-fi beats to study to” playlist and listens religiously.

Is there a story behind their name/meaning? - Their mom didn’t want to be associated with them, so she gave them their father’s surname and picked a random first name.

Something they do that seems childish to others? - Their first time sleeping with Juni was... Rough, to say the least. And overall, they missed out on a lot growing up with templars, so their excitement for parties is kinda childlike. They are also stubborn in their self-hatred, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

What is their all-time favourite TV show? - They’ve never seen a TV show? But if they were gonna like anything, it would probably be Steven Universe or Adventure Time.

What is their all-time favourite movie? - They love Finding Nemo. They might have a few issues with their family.

How big is their family? - 16? Their found family is pretty big.

Are they close to anyone specific in the family? - They are closest to Juni obvs, but they are getting really close with Castor and Ciri. Them and Nivviah have a bond through shared heritage (that took a bit to get used to), they are good friends with Val, and Venus (and soon Flor) and them have weekly spa nights where they gossip about the ship and give fashion tips.

Have they got any allergies? - They are allergic to weed. The irony hasn’t stopped hitting them this entire year.

Are they an emotional person? - They specifically are not, mostly because their wild magic and their emotions are tied in odd ways. Sometimes it can lead to gross things like a third eye. Sometimes it can be more... dangerous, like lightning in their hands or poison in the air.

Do they get angry/lose their temper quickly? - No, they have meditation for that.

What are some of their guilty pleasures? - They really like standing in front of the mirror and just... adding spells to make it seem like they are full human, or dryad. It’s a nice thought, but then the spell fades and they get a bit sad.

Do they have pets? Do they want pets? - They don’t have pets and they don’t fully understand the concept like... You just own little creatures? And call them names? Why?

Do they like kids? Do they want kids/have kids? - They have loved kids for years. Between away missions, they would read stories to the orphans and help them go to sleep. They do have kids, and they are working on accepting that. One of them is literally a soul attached to a locket, and the other two are snilds (snake childs).

Who’s cuddle buddy are they? - They are Juni’s cuddle buddy, and sometimes the rest of the team in they feel like they need it.

Do they have any tattoos? - Nope, unless you count the scales.

Do they have any piercings? - Nope, they are not into pain like that.

What is their hair colour? Is it their natural colour? - Their hair color is light auburn and yes, it is that way by nature, despite all evidence that might point otherwise.

Do they like musicals? - They hadn’t heard a musical until [insert name here] introduced them to the concept. Now they listen to Next to Normal religiously.

Do they like marmite? - They don’t know what a marmite is and at this point they are too afraid to ask.

Do they like glitter? - They love glitter but like it’s not very good for their scales cuz if you think it takes forever to get off of human skin, you have never had glitter stuck between a couple of scales.

Do they believe in the supernatural? - They are a religious person, and even if they weren’t, at this point they’ve seen too much proof to refute it.

Have they ever seen a dead body? - Bitch, they’ve caused dead bodies.

Have they ever had a near-death experience? - Yup. It ended in their first son dying and being put in a necklace. They don’t really wanna experience that shit again. Knowing Castor, it probably will happen again.

Have they ever broken a bone? - Nah, they’ve been super careful about that stuff.

What are they like when they’re drunk/what kind of drunk are they? - They are an honest and giggly drunk. It’s not as fun as it sounds.

Have they ever drunk underage? - They barely got to drink overage, they are 420.

What is the first thing they do when they wake up? - They meditate for awhile, usually talking to Heron but sometimes just on their own, pondering… Everything.

Do they consider themselves popular? - Not really? That was always Juni. Their inferiority complex has always been a barrier to them seeking out friendships, and they genuinely like alone time. (They say to themself, quietly dying of loneliness on the side when Juni is with other people.) But they’re working on it. They’ve got the Freedom Vessel now.

How do they like their tea/coffee? - They like that plain leaf water, and can’t drink coffee.

What do they smell like? - Slightly fish-y? Not a lot because they don’t like go in water very much, but a little. Also a lot like trees, specifically Juni.

Are they a virgin? - Not since they left Dryas they’re not. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Do they wear glasses/contacts? - Nope, they got that good fish eyesight.

Are they good at remembering significant dates? Anniversaries, birthdays etc? - Normally yeah. Sometimes it slips their mind, but they are also four centuries old, so they sometimes ask for some graciousness. (*eyes Juni freaking out a hundred years ago for accidentally forgetting to say “happy birthday” one freaking time)

#dnd #icio #reformatted

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cagedbycravings · 7 years

Text

Iron Necessity

Author’s Notes: I needed to re-do some of the scenes in this story. I’m also trashing Esmerie’s former personality. She deserves better. And as a result will experience more grit.

Special Thanks: @sassysatsuma and @urgentorange for inspiring me. Your writing has brought forth a new desire to challenge my characters in (hopefully) non cliched ways. Bones in particular helped me frame my characters Elyse and Margaux. Urgent Orange's take on Price and Soap has provided more depth into their characters than I could have ever imagined. Thank you!

Chapter I: Purpose

"The magnitude of a progress is gauged by the greatness of the sacrifice that it requires."- Friederich Nietche

Margaux Lèvesque had never been one for blatancy. Her final words on the day she left in search of the Godfather of her children, were no exception. A peculiar decision in Esmèrie's mind, as her mother never placed much emphasis on fatherly types. While their relationship was far from platonic, Parrain nor Maman were in positions to ever consider themselves amorous. Elyse reasoned that it was because it would leave them vulnerable. The visage of her twin sister flashed in her mind as her heart flinched from the protruding pain of being separated from her twin.

The breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean brought some comfort as the young brunette felt the evening waves rush to kiss the last of the late summer air.

A growing shadow caught in her periphery, her bright hazels flickered with alert before locking with a lithe man. His dark eyes and matching hair made him seem haunting. His rectangular glasses gleamed furthering the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Esmèrie supposed she had no one to blame but herself regarding her mistrust of him. Her decision to contact a Black Dahlia member was out of sheer desperation. Hiring the organization meant two primary stipulations would have to be met. One, she'd go where they deemed safest for however long. And two, she'd forgo any substantial privacy. The latter perturbed her more than she'd let on as she had to at least appear accustomed to their sporadic meetings. He introduced himself as Cillian Hawke. His hallowed cheekbones combined with his slanted hair over his face gave his eyes a darkness she’d seen few men parallel.

That night they met in a hotel lobby, she knew she'd made a mistake. His voice was too smooth. A silvery twist in his Irish accent making her feel as though his words always held a secretive second meaning. Their interactions were terse though Esmèrie sensed he was becoming impatient. She knew she was biding her time with him. Keeping the loose screws of his mind between her fingers was becoming difficult.

If he expected a demure, doe-eyed, damsel in distress, Esmèrie would give that to him. She squeezed her wrist, allowing her gaze to avert from his. He towered over her by several inches, sinewy arms never far from her own. His resistance was waning as she noted how little space was between them. No longer maintaining a professional distance once they arrived in Rio, Cillian seemed intent on keeping her in a cage. "You've been out here awhile. Why not come inside?"

“I was waiting for the water to cool so I could go for a swim." Clutching her wrist, she passed a glance over her shoulder.

His lips twitched into a smile. "Very well, then."

Esmèrie descended the wooden staircase leading to the private beach, shielded by a cove. Sliding down the hill, she didn't mind the sand dusting her brightly colored tunic, nor the sudden sloshing foam inside her strappy sandals.A conclave folded into the cove as she tucked herself out of sight. A small backpack and wooden oar were propped beside the stone wall. Esmèrie tossed a quick glance behind her. Keeping her secret from Cillian had become a matter of solace. Months ago, she’d discovered a route away from the beach facing villa she’d been sequestered in. It had been sheer luck to have tranquil waters that led her away from sight.

Trudging down the steep incline, she spotted the small fisherman’s boat tied to one of the boulders. The waves splashed against the chipped wood vessel, its weight rocking while she steadied herself inside. Lifting the loop from the stone, she propelled herself forward. The commanding tide bore plenty of risks, but it was a small price to pay for a bit of isolation. A wave whisked her around a familiar cliff-side before luring her into the shallow alcove hidden inside a misty waterfall. Drifting slowly, she inhaled, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. The rushing of the waterfall engrossed her, providing solace to quell the frenzy of her mind. Tying the boat onto the end of the withering wooden dock, she sighed allowing a bit of light to fill her hazels. She’d restored an abandoned villa using forgotten materials from a sunken cruise ship, submarine, and harvested wood from the last storm. Trudging past the rock fire-pit, she turned her head at the sound of a hum rising from the oncoming tide. Her eyes skimmed the water to see that her buoys had remained in place. Crafted with materials that the fisherman used, she added a few solar powered buoys that glowed once charged. The eco-friendly material dissolved the radiation through reverse osmosis. A breakthrough for the environment affected by nuclear leakage. Not enough to satiate her appetite, the scientist was in the beginning phases of true neutralization. Utilizing similar material in her iridescent warp shaped lanterns, Esmèrie had found a way to speed up the process of stabilizing isotopes but had yet to discover a means to properly neutralize the materials. The thought sparked a reminder of the reoccurring weakness she felt. She’d need to eat soon. Heaving a sigh, she dropped her backpack onto the floor beside the brightly colored cushions upheld by wooden pallets. She’d sewn the pillows by hand. Discarded feathers from the local herons tucked beneath a rough looking but effective seam. She gingerly reclined against the fabric with a sigh. Tilting her head from one end of the house to the other, she smiled at her handiwork. It was no Edra but it resembled a home.

And if there was anything she’d learned from her family it was how powerful a tool replication was. The sting of chagrin reddened her cheeks, twisting her lips. Manipulation was a natural aspect to humanity. Her rational mind knew this. From infancy onward, the ability to manipulate had been pivotal in achieving success. The visage of buttery blond waves dipped in rose gold made Esmè’s stomach clench. The seething reminder of why she’d flown thousands of miles from her home suddenly burned into her back. A creak of a drawer revealed a small square device. The lettering almost stinging her fingers when she traced the Russian Cyrillic lining the edge. Closing the drawer, Esmèrie sighed while absent mindedly rubbing the knots in her stomach. Three months since the wound of betrayal had etched its way through her. Cracking the foundation built on trust and…naivety.

Lifting her gaze to the mirror, Esmèrie inhaled sharply. Brushing the bangs from her face, she tucked the loose curls behind her ear. The Brazilian sun had burned her hair into a cinnamon brown bob. Still sticky with sea salt, she sighed while removing her tunic. The water sprang from the shower head with a creak, steam consuming her figure. Visions of intense pale blue eyes flashed before her. Tilting her head, Esmèrie could only hope to rinse off the searing tears in her eyes.

Dread sunk her heart into her stomach that morning. Shuffling in her bunk, Elyse reached for her phone. Squinting at the intrusive light, she'd woken up exactly five minutes before her alarm. Again.

Cursing her luck, she crawled down from her bunk to splash some water on her face. Anxiety still dilated her pupils as she breathed. With time they settled providing a moment of peace in the flickering mirror light. It'd been awhile since Elyse looked at herself. Her once wide-set eyes had narrowed from stress. The hazel brightened with effervescent green had become jaded.

Small sacrifices, ultimately. She had been warned that enlisting would require a piece of herself. And in her years, she'd risen to the task each time. Her cheeks had thinned, providing a better bone structure. Her dimples remained, a comforting reminder of what little the Service hadn't taken from her. Her toffee brown hair had just grown long enough to hold in a ponytail as it dusted her shoulders evenly now. She didn't inherit her Mum's magnificent curls or her striking beauty, but she still held her strength and determination.

Elyse heard her roommate shuffle in her bed, a hushed apology reaching across the room. A simple shrug was her response. Typical, as making friends since enlisting had been a joke. She shook her head before reaching her closet. Might as well get dressed and head to breakfast.

A surge of anxiety resurfaced again that morning. She'd been running and nearly keeled over, drawing the ire of her commanding officer. A man of exceptional kindness, he'd pulled her into his office to discuss the matter."You're not one for slacking, what's going on?"Her eyes dropped, giving her a moment to contemplate her answer. "Just an off day, sir."He nodded, convinced enough to not push the matter. "Fine, just get it together. A General's coming in to see the division."Elyse nodded. Her return to her training was renewed with a fervent tenacity as she doubled her speed, striking the targets with precision. Being one of a dozen women in the newly formed Paragon Division was an accomplishment all its own. The jog back to the rest of members earned her scowls. She heard the whispers among the regiment. Arrogant, aloof, easily angered.

She'd heard it all.A familiar whisper caught in the wind as she felt her heart race again. Her blood running cold with trepidation. She blinked away the tears pricking at her eyes, a playful nudge jolted her from her thoughts. She tensed overlooking her shoulder to see lips moving, her ears struggling to hear above the sudden sobbing filling her mind. Her attention turned to the General who’d begun to speak at a podium.

His voice drifted from her ears, replaced by the dread echoing through her bones. What could possibly be happening in that prison Esmè calls a home?

A twisting in her gut began again while she listened to what Shepherd had to say. Very little of his speech stuck out, her mind drifting to her twin. She felt her body internally tighten as if her muscles were curling, her stomach folding in half, her lungs collapsing.

"Which is why we'll be connecting the Paragon division with the 141."That caught her attention, her eyes sharpening. Women had only been permitted to enlist among the Infantry for the last couple of years. She’d been promoted to Sergeant despite the controversy regarding the decision to assign a woman to the front lines. Now that the opportunity for presented itself for her to join the best handpicked fighters on the planet, she'd be one step closer to her reason for joining up with the regiment.

In the meanwhile, Esmè will just have to manage on her own. A pang of guilt struck her heart at the callousness of her words. Her eyes focused forward as Shepherd continued to speak.

"Wait, what?" Meat sat up from his reclined position on the couch. "Why the hell is Shepherd connecting another task force with ours? Are we no longer the best handpicked warriors on the planet?"

"Because," Soap released an exasperated sigh. "He feels that it's necessary."

"With all due respect Captain, this is bullshit. What are these kids going to do when shit hits the fan? Cry out for their mommies? And about women joining, what the hell does Shepherd expect to have happen if they are captured? Raped?"

Soap inhaled sharply, irritation clear in his features. "We're all quite aware of the risks involved. The adjoining task force will be no different."

"None of these brats better slow us the fuck down." Meat hissed shooting a sharp glare at his Captain.

Soap rolled his eyes, preparing to leave whenever he heard a cockney accent behind him.

"When are they arriving?" Ghost propped himself against the wall, arms crossed, eyes unwavering despite the sigh escaping Soap's lips.

“Today. Expect to see quite a number of new faces around." He left before the rumblings of the others reached his ears.In truth, he had no issues with women joining the military and was quite the supporter of them enlisting among the ranks involving special forces.

There were risks involved, of course. But MacTavish had prided himself on remaining open minded to the idea that new people would bring new solutions. One of the very few remaining traits of his that hadn't become jaded in his time in the 141.

Unfortunately, he knew all too well that the others wouldn't share his mentality. Archer, Meat, and Scarecrow were among the highest strung in the bunch, but none would compare to the vexation held by Ghost.

Sighing, MacTavish cracked his neck before checking his watch. They'd be arriving soon.

The vehicle came to a stop as a bag jostled her awake. "Wake up." She'd heard the driver call. "We're here."The orders were simple. Line up and wait to meet their Commanding Officers. Elyse was quick to deduce that typical regulations wouldn't apply here upon seeing Mactavish's mohawk and Riley's mask.

"Welcome to the 141. I'm Captain Mactavish. And this is Lieutenant Riley. Now we realize that due to the new requirements the resting quarters are going to be unusual. Women will be placed near the Medical wing until further notice.

"The short introduction followed by the small distance between the separating groups was enough for Elyse to notice the tension radiating throughout the base. If there was one thing Elyse was certain of, it was when she wasn't welcome somewhere. Their uniforms gave them away. Dressed in black t-shirts and forest green cargo pants, they clearly weren't blending in anytime soon. Beside her was a shorter strawberry blonde with her hair tied into a messy bun. She did all she could to avoid making eye contact from the other base members. Their prima-donna reputation proceeded them.

She could feel similar stares behind her as three other women ranging in various height and ages attempted to cover their intimidation. Reaching the make-shift barracks, they waited for Riley to finish his speech. "You may be new but that won't make you exempt to any of the expectations here." His cockney tone grated Elyse's ears as she internally counted the moments until he left. The Paragon members were split among five rooms with an additional door closed at the end of the hallway. Entering her room, Elyse heard someone sigh in relief behind her. Turning back to her bunk, she began neatly unpacking her belongings.

"Hi." The raised, almost sing-song Scottish accent caused her to tense. "I'm Clover Taylor." The strawberry blonde with round face and oval eyes beamed at Elyse.

An awkward pause ensued as Elyse barely overlooked her shoulder. Not without her manners, she gave a forced yet polite nod.

"Lèvesque."

"First name or last?" Elyse shot a blank stare at the strawberry blonde only to watch her fall into a fit of nervous giggling. "Kidding, of course."

Elyse didn't bother with eye contact as she climbed into the top bunk. Lying down she clasped her fingers behind her head, eyes shut as she waited for her roommate to take a hint. Her thoughts floated to her twin once again feeling the walls of her heart tense, offering little relief into her veins.Clover resisted the urge to slump as she unpacked her belongings. At least my previous roommates spoke to me.

Training in the first few weeks was tense as Elyse recognized how determined Lieutenant Riley was to maintain a clear divide between the two task forces. There had been an unspoken understanding in dividing the recreation room. The 141 would remain on the side closest to the kitchen. The Paragon would remain on the side closest to the exit.

Riley stood in a darkened corner like the hawk she'd kept as a pet. Watching—waiting for a moment to strike back at her. She'd heard him skewer Taylor, the newest medic on the team after he took a nasty hit during a sparring session.

The medic barely stood at his sternum and shook like a leaf until Elyse stepped in. She may have only been a Sergeant, but she cared very little for titles when they were being used to—in her own words—cater to the needs of a spewing asshole. Whether it be due to Riley's reputation, preserving their own careers, or enjoying a shit-show; the other members kept their distance and silence.

Lieutenant Blaire Evans was an exception. Before Elyse defended Clover, she'd been ready to step in herself. Her dark brown undercut hair parted over her face, as she shared disdain for not just Riley but for the 141 in general. "Bunch of over-privileged wankers." She hissed before tossing back another shot of whiskey. "Where'd you get this?"

"Taylor." Elyse muttered reaching for the bottle. "As thanks."

"A woman of few words, eh? I can respect that." Elyse smirked as she poured her drink. Catching a glimpse of their very nervous medic making her way to the table, she and Blaire offered polite nods."Do you mind if I sit with you guys?" Clover tugged at the sleeve at her wrist.

"So long as you don't consider us one of them, I don't see why not." Blair finished her shot. "Cheers by the way."

Clover sat down uneasily, trying to avoid the stares in her direction. "Cheers." The redhead grimaced at the taste of the liquor, missing the chuckles from Elyse and Blaire.

"Drink often?" Blaire watched with a gleam of amusement in her grey eyes."Not really." The medic replied sheepishly as she set down her glass. Elyse smirked before enjoying another sip of her drink. Scanning the room while the other two chatted, she noted that the base itself felt much larger than it was. In truth, everything was simply spread out. "So, what made you join?" Elyse passed a glance in Blaire's direction.

"Fulfilling a promise." She could practically hear Blaire's eyebrow raise. "You?"

"Family tradition. Everyone serves."

"Admirable." Her eyes looked past the Lieutenant as Meat and Royce approached.

"Heard you talked shit to our Lieutenant. Not sure if you noticed, but there's a chain of command here." Meat huffed, arms crossed over his chest, his face full of indignation.

Elyse sharpened her glare. "And?"

"And you need to respect it. You may have been hot shit before, what with being an all-women's team, but here you're nothing." Elyse failed to suppress her flinch. Meat's words echoed in the well of her memories.

She couldn't—wouldn't go back there. Physically or emotionally. "And if I don't?" Elyse felt her blood boil, rising from her chair. She hated how easily wound up she could be and yet, she'd never really tried to prevent it from happening.

Meat kept just enough of a gap to show he hadn't touched her yet. He had a good few inches over her as she barely stood at his clavicle. He squared his shoulders, leering down at her. "You warm up quickly, I like that in a woman."

Disgust filled her eyes, her fist cracking. The room grew quiet as she felt the eyes of others cast her direction. Silent enough to hear a pin drop, time slowed as Elyse felt the urge to rip that smirk from his face.

The sound of connecting flesh brought Mactavish into the room. Seeing Meat's body flip head first onto the ground sent him into a near frenzy. He was just inches from grabbing Elyse by her collar whenever she felt a strong hand on his fist.

"They're settling things." Her tone was unnervingly tranquil, her grey eyes expression unfazed by his rising anger.

"Not on my watch." He spat before attempting to side step her. She blocked him, moving her free hand to his chest.

"Sergeant Lèvesque, stand down."

As if someone had flicked a switch, Elyse released her vice grip from Meat's arm letting it fall onto the floor with a crumble. Meat's darkened eyes heated with humiliation as he felt Royce lift him, quietly ushering him out of the room's only exit. Mactavish never broke his stare, a rare fire in his cobalt blue eyes. How he'd wish they would burn into Blaire's icy greys, evoking some sort—any sort of reaction.

Blaire waited for Meat and Royce's footsteps to quiet before giving an almost pleased glance at the younger soldier. "Head back to quarters, Lèvesque. You've done enough tonight."

Elyse's impassive stare seeped into the atmosphere lowering the temperature of the room. A natural habit she'd inherited from her mother. She ignored the stares ranging from bewilderment to vexation while she exited.

Scolding herself internally, rounding her fists. Was this why I enlisted? To pick fights with pig-headed pricks? No. Her resolve needed tending. Proving her decision to join the service wouldn’t happen if she couldn’t control her temper.

Closing the door behind her, she looked over the small room she’d been assigned to. A bunk bed, a table set for two, and a small space for a desk. Climbing into her bed, Elyse sighed. The knots in her stomach had traveled to her head resulting in a headache. Willing herself to sleep, Elyse clutched the empathy symbol hanging around her neck.

Clover had scuttled into the room at some point, glasses balanced on top of each other in one hand half full of whiskey in the other. Seeing Elyse's still form, she quietly tucked away her celebratory trinkets before cautiously stripping out of her uniform. Elyse's back faced her giving some semblance of privacy as the skittish 24-year-old slid into some brightly colored printed pajama pants. Slipping into a fitted tank top, she let down her hair before reclining against her pillows. Switching on the small book light next to her, she cracked open one of her medical text books.

She'd been the youngest graduate in her class, an accomplishment all its own until she enlisted with the Royal Army Medical Corps. Her height, gender, and age did little to gain confidence in her patients. As a result, she took on as many responsibilities possible, refusing to relinquish herself despite the obstacles with pushy patients, cynical corpsmen, and arrogant doctors. Serving as a Nurse Practitioner would have its drawbacks, but she felt called to a position that was desperately needed but often overlooked.

The lines had begun to blur as she rubbed her eyes. Stifling a yawn, she had just closed her eyes whenever a voice caused her tense.

"You'll burn yourself out if you don't pace yourself."

Lifting her head, a mix of excitement and confusion filled her amber brown eyes."How did you know-"

"My mum's a nurse. Her mum was a nurse. And her mum before her."

"That's cool. So then, why not become a medic, if you don't mind my asking."

Clover chided herself for being a little too eager to have the first real conversation with her roommate since they arrived.

"Requires too much empathy."

The room plunged into an uncomfortable silence as Clover felt stifled by the numerous inquiries threatening to burst from her lungs. It was as if Elyse sensed this as she shuffled above Clover. Sitting up she attempted to crack her stiff neck. Meat had been able to land only a hand on her, but his grip on the nape of her neck caused her to be unable to properly recline her head.

"Would you have a look at something for me?" Clover could hear Elyse's voice soften as her shadow leaned over the ledge on the top bunk.

"Certainly." Elyse slid from her bunk to the ground before rounding the corner.

"Please." The medic motioned with her hand, folding up her textbook. Swiping her shoulder length hair from the back of her neck, Clover frowned at the bruise forming. "Tell me where it hurts." She gently pressed her fingers along the tender areas of Elyse's back stopping whenever she flinched."Nothing feels broken. Some swelling that may lead to some more bruising. You should ice it for the next couple days."

"Thanks." Elyse flashed a smile so faint, Clover wasn't certain she'd seen it. "No, I should be thanking you. For what you did what that Lieutenant and for tonight." Elyse shrugged.

"We're a team. When someone comes after one of us, they'll need to be ready for all of us."

Clover nodded, a smile tugged at her lips.

"Goodnight, Taylor. Thanks again." Elyse climbed back into the top bunk carefully lying on her neck.

"Anytime. And goodnight." Flicking off her book light, Clover released a contented sigh before drifting off to sleep.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #iron necessity

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ladyiceflame-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter Seven: Playing with Ice Fire

Naruto had devoured three grilled fish, a bowl of natto, three bowls of miso soup, and was on his second bowl of steamed rice by the time Kakashi emerged from their shared tent. And although he’d hardly thought it possible, his sensei’s lone, exposed eye looked more sullen than ever, as he took his seat at Konoha’s outdoor breakfast table. Perhaps he should have let him snuggle him a little more before panicking... Beyond the sheltering trees that ringed this clearing, the sound of deep drums, sonorous horns, stringed instruments, and good-natured commotion drifted into their camp. Kakashi recognized this music. Had it followed him from dreams into the waking world? It seemed to be emanating from the small lake in the northeast of the grounds. “Good morning, Kakashi!” Kurenai greeted, obviously in higher spirits than he was. “You were out rather late last night. Did you find another obscure Shimogakuran sport to dominate?” she asked, sipping her tea. “No,” he returned numbly, as a bowl of miso and a plate of grilled salmon were set before him. “But I did find a small hot spring bath house, just a little east of here, run by some farmers.” “Really?” his fellow jonin smiled brightly. “I might have to steal Sakura and Hinata for a little ‘Girl Time,’ before the ceremony. We need to look our best for the Lady Ice Flame, after all...” “I would like the chance to wash my hair properly,” Sakura admitted. “Maybe have one of you pin it up in a nicer style. I wish I’d brought something better to wear...” “Cleanliness is most appreciated,” Hiruzen began, “But please keep in mind that we are here to provide security, not to indulge our personal vanities. But the Shimokhan and the Heron Sage-Priestess are due to arrive today, so do look your best.” “Lady Ice Flame’s parents?” Hinata asked. “Yes,” Hiruzen smiled. “Her mother is renowned for her serenity and grace. Her father...his bravery and loyalty. They are both dear friends of mine whom I rarely get to see anymore.” “Well,” Kiba began, feeding his ninken the head and tail of his salmon portion, “Akamaru and I will be taking our baths in the lake. Cold water sharpens the senses...clears the head!” Kakashi tried to suppress a shudder, as he opened his Icha-Icha Paradise novel to shield his mouth as he ate. “You’re not alone in that belief, but I am not among them.” “You might be a fan of the Shimogakuran purification ritual then, Kiba,” Hiruzen began, his crinkled face brightening with a smile, born of some remembered amusement. “What is that?” the Inuzuka asked. “An ancient rite of deep, soulful cleansing that I had the honor of participating in–only once, with Ryuumaru Yaseiarashi himself, many years ago. It is a serious test of one’s stamina, meant for only those of the strongest mettle.” “Then count me in, Old Man Hokage!” Naruto exclaimed. “Where do I sign up?” “Hey!” Kiba commandeered, “Take a number, Uzumaki! I get to go first!” “You don’t even know what it involves yet, Kiba,” Shino cautioned. “Doesn’t matter!” Kiba riposted. “I doubt anyone will be partaking anytime soon, being as how there is no snow,” Hiruzen chucked at the genin’s eagerness. “But Shimogakurans are known for their resourcefulness. If I hear otherwise, I’ll be sure to let you both know about it.” “–Wait a minute....” Naruto looked suddenly sheepish, “Did you say, ‘snow’?” “I did,” the Hokage smiled. “You can’t have a Shimogakuran Sweat Lodge without it. Still interested...?” “Yes!” Kiba exclaimed. Akamaru gave a small whine. “Very well,” Hiruzen continued. “You go into a cedar-paneled sauna room, usually as a group, and settle into meditation, breathing in the heady vapors created by various herbs that have been added. Then, someone gets it in their head to start smacking you with a birch branch. Then you return the favor, until nearly everyone is about to pass out from the heat and exertion. Then someone opens the door, you all run outside and roll in the snow until you feel the need to warm back up by returning to the sauna, and do it all over again, and again, and again, until exhausted. Once was enough for me.” “That’s madness...” Sasuke opined, picking at his fish. “I’ve heard that drinking heavily helps out immensely,” Sarutobi chuckled. “So, this isn’t a ‘family event’...?” Kurenai broached. “On the contrary, kids often attend their parents in these things. They just don’t drink.” the Hokage answered. “Little Lady Ice Flame was particularly enamored of chasing around her parents and brother...and anyone else with a birch switch...” “Wait...” Kakashi paused in his eating and replaced his mask, “She has a brother?” Hiruzen was struck solemn for a moment. “Had. He is no longer of this world. I thought you knew this, Kakashi.” “How could I know this?” Kakashi demanded. “Because you were in Shimogakure the night he died. The night Miriyume’s Renkingen became active.” All eyes were fixed on Kakashi now, and he was at a complete loss for words or even thoughts. What was Hiruzen saying?!? The Hokage sighed heavily. “I can see by your expression that this is news to you, which I must admit, puzzles me, but I will try to explain as best, and as quickly as I can. And please, do not breathe a word of this to any Shimogakuran, as speaking of dead, or misfortune, is believed to be an ill omen. And this pain, in particular, runs deep: Miriyume-sama is the second child born to the Shimokhan, Ryuumaru Yaseiarashi, and the Heron Sage-Priestess, Renara. The first was Ryuuyuki, the first to possess the Renkingen in over one hundred and fifty years. It can only manifest in those whose blood can be traced to both Hagoromo and Hamura, and has access to incredible amounts of chakra. Its power allowed him to become one of the rarest classes of shinobi; the reviver-type, and the most powerful oni-taiji I’ve ever known.” “A demon-hunter?!” Kakashi gasped. “Like that North Wind character?” “He was that North Wind character,” the Hokage clarified gravely. “Did you ever meet him?” “No,” Kakashi bowed his head in respect. He had heard stories of this man all his life. Sakumo had raved about seeing the Tiger-Sage in action a couple of times. He had compared his grace to that of the wind over the barley field. This had been her brother?!? “But my father spoke of him. He admired his sword technique.” “Ryuumaru traveled far and wide, sealing many demons, and strengthening ties with many lands in his short life-span. He was virtuous, strong, clever, and a source of great pride for his family, but perhaps none so much as for his sister. She clung to him so fiercely, and deeply resented his absences. He was her best teacher. From him, she learned swordplay, fuinjutsu, senjutsu....and a charming generosity with her overflow chakra. They were both blessed with such magnetic natures. You couldn’t help but fall in love with them. And his cool demeanor was the perfect compliment to her fiery temperament.” Sasuke suddenly looked more interested. “I’m not certain of all the details myself, but the famed North Wind met his end somewhere in the Land of Hot Water, very near the same time as the mission that led you to Shimogakure, Kakashi. Being a sage trained at the Cat Fortress, his personal summon, Prince Tosho, relayed the news of his passing to his family. And that’s when Miriyume’s own Renkingen was activated, and she, in keeping with her father’s side’s engendered curse, went berserk.” “Is the Alchemist’s Eye a dojutsu that is linked with one’s emotional state, like the Sharingan?” Sasuke asked. “It certainly seems that way,” the Hokage continued. “Ryuuyuki’s awakened while protecting Miriyume.” He paused a moment, and cleared his throat. “In an explosion of suddenly-gained power, she put half the village into a chakra-coma that lasted an entire day. Two days later, she was finally tracked to the ruin of an ancient, infernal temple. She was covered in blood, ashes, and quite mad; utterly transformed under the watchful and concerned eye of the storm kami that adopted her in her own senjutsu training, and Prince Tosho, who had led her there. According to North Wind’s famed white tiger, she had, ‘finished what Ryuuyuki had begun’.” “It took her mother nearly a season to bring her back to some sense of sanity, and the instruction of a kami, and the memories of a lost brother, to get a handle on her newly emerged dojutsu. Her life’s path had taken a new turn, as she took on the mantle that Ryuuyuki had left behind. She was no longer merely the storm sage-priestess who had befriended a minor god, she was now the Lady Ice Flame who had sundered an unholy temple at the heart of a mountain with a frightening new jutsu. It was a dark time for Shimogakure, generally referred to as ‘The Year of Unspoken Hell’.” “So that’s how I lost track of—“ Kakashi blurted aloud, before stopping abruptly. “Lost track of what?” Sakura asked. “Nothing,” he amended, hiding behind his book again. “You know, Kakashi-san,” Kurenai smiled sweetly, “That is a very annoying habit you have.” “I can’t help it,” he returned flippantly, “I’m addicted to these books...” Naruto growled his frustration at his teacher’s lack of candor. “Urrrh...Kaka-sensei said he met Priestess Ice Flame a long time ago, in Shimogakure! But he thought she died, so seeing her here is messing with his already messed-up head!” “Naruto!” Sakura scolded, but ‘Inner Sakura’ thanked. Naruto chuckled nervously, as he regarded his teacher’s narrowed eye, “Well, it’s the truth!” “You foun– saw her back then, Kakashi?” Hiruzen asked, a mysterious light dawning in his wizened eyes. Kakashi’s odd behavior since arriving was starting to make much more sense. “Was she injured in the collection of that missing-nin?” Kakashi gave a quick bark of laughter at the unintentional absurdity of the question: “Heh, not at all.” “Then why did you think that she died?” Sarutobi pressed. “Because I went back to....formally apologize to her for the....trouble, and damage we had caused in carrying out our mission,” Kakashi answered. “And I was told that I wasn’t allowed to say her name anymore, and pointed to a...an ash-stained pyre-stone...” The memory of that sooty, granite marker, surrounded by hundreds of white lanterns and teary-eyed mourners still sent a cold chill up his spine. “I can understand your confusion now,” the Hokage returned. “Shimogakurans do not speak of the recently deceased as a rule of etiquette. But they extend this taboo to the grievously injured, as well. It has led to much aggravation in the past.” <<And since when did you ever feel the need to ‘apologize’ for Team Ro’s actions, Kakashi?>> the Hokage silently wondered. It seemed that Ryuumaru’s ‘little angel’ had remelted Kakashi’s icy heart back then, too, huh? And she still appeared to be holding a light out to his personal darkness. Was fate so intent on tying these two together? The next two days just got much more interesting.... A sudden, clumsy, panicked clamber in the nearby trees spared Kakashi further investigation into his past associations. A large swarthy skinned man, dressed in Shimogakuran body armor, was out of breath and on the run. Matsuko, it so happened. He paused in his harried flight to rest his hands on his knees, and regulate his breath. On seeing the table full of people, he waved a quick greeting before being bodily tackled by a dark-garbed missile, trailing a wild mane of orange-and-scarlet hair. “You’re out of bounds, Mat-kun!” Miriyume gleefully informed, as she perched her full weight between his broad shoulders on his prone form. “Go back and face the penalty!” “Did you see what those farm kids did to Hisao?!” Matsuko quailed, squirming to extract himself from under her, not insignificant, buxom weight. “Well, he shouldn’t have been sitting there! And it just took a little of our Winter Whiskey to bring him back round again....” she reassured, as Gekido and Aoseishin joined them. “Ha-ha!” Gekido chortled. “Did someone’s famous courage go running off?” “I believe he caught it,” Miriyume smiled, as she helped her team mate to stand. She then became aware of their audience. “Oh, hello!” she greeted, smoothing down her ruffled garments, as a blush bloomed along her cheeks. “I didn’t see you there...” “Look what your cowardliness has brought!” Gekido intoned in his most dire-sounding sarcasm, and slapped Matsuko on the back of his helmet. Matsuko retaliated with a simple punch to the shoulder, which sent the smaller man reeling, which set them to scrapping. Aoseishin joined in the benign fray. “This is the Wandering Lights Brigade?” Sasuke smirked. Sakura scowled at him. “Hard to believe, huh?” Miriyume acknowledged, as she approached their end of their table, abandoning her team mates to their regularly scheduled scuffle. “Things have been a bit slow, in regards to missions, lately...” biting her lower lip in the most adorable way, as her eyes glanced at all the faces gathered. Her eyes lingered on Kakashi a bit longer than the rest. Shino stood to face the noted kunoichi, and gave a polite bow. “Your team is an inspiration to us all, for your genuine friendship and dedication to one another. It is my sincerest hope to achieve a similar rapport with my own team mates.” The sound of the scuffle behind them lent an element of comical absurdity to Shino’s words. “You’ll get there, it just takes patience...and an occasional first-aid kit,” Miriyume smiled, regarding her companions over her shoulder. “Good morning, Hokage-sama,” she bowed in respect to her Father’s friend. “Would your august company care to join us in our humble breakfast?” Hiruzen offered. “What are you having?” Gekido asked, pausing in mid-punch. “Miso....fish....tea...sticky rice...” Kurenai answered. “I’ll pass on the sticky rice, but the rest sounds good,” Matsuko answered, dumping his friend in the flattened grass. Miriyume was looking all over the place, as if searching for something. “Is this everyone from Konohagakure?” she asked. “I believe so, my Lady,” Hiruzen returned. “Is there someone you’re seeking in particular?” “You wouldn’t know a ‘Kaharu,’ by chance, would you?” Miriyume asked, as she was handed a cup of tea by one of the cooking-nin. Kakashi choked on a bit of his fish, and turned away for a moment to clean his face. “I know of a ‘Ko’ haru, but she is still in the Village Hidden in the Leaves, to my knowledge. She doesn’t like traveling too far from there, as one of our Elders,” Hiruzen supplied. “An Elder?!” Gekido echoed, as he joined the two others at the table’s end. He then turned to Miriyume: “You said she was a pretty, smut-reading kunoichi!” Kakashi quickly hid his book. “What gives?!” Gekido demanded of his team mate. “Clearly, we are not talking about the same person,” Miriyume quipped back. “The woman I encountered last night–and may have...unintentionally given hypothermia to–was no older than the lady here,” indicating Kurenai. “Well, this one’s pretty, too,” Matsuko smiled. Kurenai blushed. “Why do you think this ‘Kaharu’ would be here?” Sakura asked. “She said she was a teacher from Konoha....” Miriyume answered, sipping her tea. “There are many who would claim such a thing, if they felt the need to impress someone,” Kakashi offered, crossing his arms behind his head, and leaning back. “She was probably just some star-struck farm girl...” “I’m hardly that glamourous,” Miriyume countered. “I think you are, Lady Sage-Priestess!” Naruto testified, slapping the table for emphasis. “No, really, she’s not,” Gekido interjected. Miriyume tossed the last swallow of her tea in the Inuzuka’s direction. “Anyway, Camp Shimogakure is having an extended breakfast by the lakeside, so we can play ‘Kraken’. You’re welcome to join us,” she smiled. “What....what is...’Kraken’?” Hinata shyly asked. “Its kind of like ‘playing ninja,’ only on water,” Matsuko answered. “Its an excellent exercise in chakra control.” “Then I’m all for it,” Kakashi decided, standing up. “Climbing trees without hands is probably getting dull for my three, eh?” “It was never that exciting to begin with,” Naruto muttered, causing Gekido to chuckle as the genin took a spot between him and Miriyume. The Lady Ice Flame placed a hand on his shoulder. There was something so...familiar about this kid. Something comforting... “This will get your blood pumping,” she smiled conspiratorially, as Sasuke and Sakura also stood. “Can I go, too, Kurenai-sensei?” Kiba pleaded. He was wanting any opportunity to hang out with the foreign Inuzuka. “I’ll keep my eye on him,” Kakashi promised. “Very well. Just don’t come back smelling like ‘wet dog’!” Kurenai allowed. As they made their way to the lake, Hiruzen chuckled: “May the gods themselves preserve her radiant light.”

Kakashi took a moment to observe the individual dynamics of the Wandering Lights Brigade, as they led the way to the lake. Matsuko was a serene, formidable warrior, walking with an easy, sedate stride. He had powerful muscles, and a strong build, yet he projected a supreme sense of calm, even when engaged in combat. Kohai had been a crude brute. This man was a tranquil giant. Gekido was a polar opposite of this. Not much taller than Miriyume, with a build closer to his own. He seemed to be constantly wound-up; putting an extra bounce in every step, and an urgent tone in every word. This seemed to be a common trait amongst those of the Inuzuka clan, whatever part of the world they came from. His ninken seemed slightly calmer in nature, as he romped ahead of them all with Akamaru. Aoseishin was doing an excellent job of playing with a younger puppy; mindful of his superior strength, and stoically suffering the nips and pounces of his canine fellow for the sake of social interaction. And Miriyume...? Where to start? Every moment he spent in her presence, he studied every movement, every aspect. She was grace, yet she was also audacity. She had the soft, womanly curves of a life of leisure, but it only belied the solid strength of her broad shoulders, her powerful legs. And her chakra.... Even without the benefit of his Sharingan, he would sense it. It captivated him. Kept bringing him back to a place and time before the world had become so dark and dreary. And despite being denied the privilege of her association, he felt a deep rapport with her. It was a mysterious connection that went beyond anything else he’d ever known. Was it the ‘magnetic nature’ that the Hokage had spoken of just now? She did seem to attract and keep people under a kind of unconscious charm... Her team mates were the clearest example of this: The bond they shared seemed as thick as blood. He could see it in the way they looked at her; the sense of joy and strength that they gained in each other’s company. She wasn’t some bridge between the gulf of the other two. She was the light that inspired them. How he yearned to be a fraction of that kind of light for her... This is what a shinobi team needed to be, he realized. The music became louder as they crested the gentle hill that dropped down to the lake. A water-jutsu by the look of it, clung to its surface. Musicians (did they ever get a rest?) were gathered together next to a half dozen picnic blankets, and a team of cooking-nin who fed anyone who walked up, be they shinobi or simple farmer. Many seemed to be content with relaxing and keeping tabs on the mysterious game on the lake, which was deduced by the sounds of splashes, shrieks and laughter. “Kaka-sensei?” Sakura’s voice betrayed anxiety. “What are the rules of this ‘kraken’ game, exactly?” “Stay on the surface of the lake, and try not to get...’eaten’!” Gekido teased, as he gave her a quick clutch on her shoulders, causing her to squeal a little. “‘Eaten’?!?” Naruto echoed in a worried tone. “Not literally,” Matsuko laughed, as they continued down the hill. “The ‘kraken’ are shinobi swimming below who will try to drag you under, or ‘eat you’. Miriyume-chan learned of this game in Kirigakure, and finds every chance she can to torment me with it.” “Oh, Mat-kun...” Miriyume sighed happily, giving him an affectionate side hug as they walked together, “You make such a wonderful kraken!” She then turned to Sakura. “If you’re ‘eaten,’ you become a kraken, and you get to attack with the others until only one person is left on the surface. And that’s the winner.” “At least let me strip down a little,” Matsuko haggled, “This armor takes forever to dry.” “A little lightning-drying can speed that up,” Miriyume smiled, willing a few sparks to dance across the upturned palm of her hand. “Sparkler left scorch marks last time!” Matsuko replied sternly, using her nickname. “Very well, BE a shameless exhibitionist....” Miriyume teased. “Can I be one, too?” Gekido asked. “Since when have you required my permission?” “Whoo-hoo!” Gekido hooted. “Race you there, Earthquake!” and ran off with his ninken. Kiba and Akamaru followed behind. Matsuko, in no particular hurry, jogged dutifully on their heels. “Well,” Miriyume fell back to walk with those who remained, “There goes a large dose of mayhem.” Kakashi regarded her with a hidden smirk and a side-long glance as she walked beside him. “‘Sparkler’...?” “It’s what they call me, half the time,” she sighed. “Because of the oddness of my lightning affinity, I’m guessing...” “Do they....really strip down?” Kakashi asked. “Down to boxers, minimum,” she reassured. “At least until nightfall. Then all bets are off.” Her eyes flashed with a mischievous glint. “But most people don’t bother, as clothes need washing, too.” “I prefer using a washing machine,” Kakashi quipped. “I prefer using a water jutsu, a rasengan, and some soap,” Miriyume replied. “Not everyone can be as freewheeling with their chakra as you can,” Kakashi countered. “They can while I’m around...or, hadn’t you noticed...?” she smiled her off-kilter smile, and offered her hand to Sakura. “Care to join me?” Sakura looked to her sensei for guidance, who nodded his consent. She giggled giddily as Miriyume pulled her into a sprint into the swirling mist, leaving Kakashi, Sasuke and Naruto alone on the shore. “That woman is strange,” Sasuke ventured aloud. “Her chakra is very powerful....but poorly controlled. It spills out of her like water from a ruptured pipe.” “That’s because she has no need to conserve it. Her kekki genken is an ability to passively absorb chakra from any source, but her senjutsu training seems to have focused her mostly on Natural Chakra energies.” “Is she aware of how others can feed off her spilling energy?” Sasuke, as ususal, sounded critical. “I’m certain she is,” Kakashi returned, understanding the tone of disapproval. His younger self would have seen it as wasteful as well. “But such charity is common to people who have studied Ninshu.” “What is this....Ninshu?” Naruto asked. “To put it simply, the transcendence of the spirit through the sharing of Chakra,” Kakashi answered. Naruto’s face was screwed up in confusion. “Huh?” “Did you EVER pay attention in class?” Sasuke hissed. “Did you ever NOT?!” Naruto retorted. Kakashi sighed. “To put it simpler, it’s the sharing of one’s chakra with others to achieve inner harmony. Miriyume-sama’s mother is a priestess who is renowned for her devotion to Ninshu. Its not often practiced anymore.” “Why not?” Naruto pressed. “Why not, indeed,” Kakashi smiled. A silvery peal of laughter, followed by a thunderous splash, erupted from deep in the mists before them. “She’s MINE, Matsuko-kun! Find another victim!” Miriyume crowed proudly, as Sakura laughed. “I’ll save you, Sakura-chan!” Naruto proclaimed in response, and charged at the lake. A loud splash signaled his failure to properly focus his chakra for water-walking. “That was embarrassing,” Sasuke commented bluntly. “Looks like its up to us to maintain the honor of Konoha,” Kakashi announced, before slipping into the mist.

At first, Sakura found the thick fog unsettling. Ghostly forms moved all around and beneath them, and her thoughts wandered back to that awful battle on the half-completed bridge in the Land of Waves. When Matsuko made a grab for her ankle, the Lady Ice Flame had deftly lifted her out of his reach, a split-second before Sakura had even noticed any attack, and sent her team mate splashing back below the surface with a solid kick of her laced boot. “How did you know he was there?” Sakura asked, as Miriyume set her back down. “I ‘sensed’ him,” she answered. “I’m sorry....I don’t think we were properly introduced yet. What is your name?” “Haruno, Sakura, Ice Flame-sama,” she returned with a respectful bow. “My name is Yaseiarashi, Miriyume,” as she kept a vigilant eye on the rolling clouds that surrounded them. “But most call me Miriyume, or Miri-san. Use one of those, please.” She then executed a graceful, sweeping kick out into the fog, and was rewarded with a yelp and a splash. “Try harder, Gek-kun!” she laughed. “Does your....Renkingen allow you to see them?” Sakura asked. “No. It’s more of a ‘feeling’ than a sight, for me. I’m sensing them through the chakra-absorption kekki genken of the Yaseiarashi clan. And Matsuko and Gekido are easy for me to pick out of a crowd, due to our long association.” “So, you’re a ‘sensor’ type?” Sakura pressed. “Only in the simplest sense of the term. Gekido and Aoseishin are much, much better at it than I could ever hope to be.” “You’re damn right, we are!” Gekido called out, somewhere beyond the mists. “...But he’s kind of useless when this happens....” Miriyume whispered, and performed an odd sequence of hand jutsu, some of them one-handed, as her eyes flashed briefly with the golden seven-pointed star that indicated the use of her dojutsu. “Aurora-storm jutsu!” she announced, as the fog suddenly came alive with bright flashes of color. Sakura gasped at the beauty of it. It was like finding one’s self contained within an opal. Someone close by erupted into violent sneezing. “Sudden bright lights make Gek-kun sneeze...” Miriyume explained with a wicked smile. “Stop—“ Gekido fought to speak, “—talking about me!” Sakura laughed. These adults still played like children, only with a better understanding of each other. “It must be wonderful to know so much about one another...” “It takes time, and effort, on all parts...” Miriyume returned, regarding her newest friend. She seemed so profoundly sad all of a sudden. “...and patience. Things between me and the guys weren’t always so easy, you know.” “Really?” Sakura seemed to regain a little joy in her jade-hued eyes. “Yes,” Miriyume nodded. “In fact, Gekido was outright hostile on our first day together as a team.” A strong hand broke the surface of the water before the storm priestess, who clasped it and assisted its ascent to the lake surface. “He actually bit me,” Matsuko continued, as he wrung water from his shirt front. “And he had Aoseishin tear a hole in Miri-chan’s skirt...in an embarrassing place....” “Are you giving up on being a ‘kraken’?” Miriyume asked. “I am,” Matsuko sighed. “There are more people below than above at the moment, and water games just aren’t my thing....” “I read you,” Miriyume smiled tenderly. “Let me introduce you to Sakura Haruno, one of Kakashi Hatake’s students...” “Oh, that reminds me–“ Matsuko began, but was cut short by a shadow that slipped up with ridiculous ease behind Sakura. Matsuko tensed as Sakura gasped. Sasuke held a lone finger to his lips, and pointed ungently downward with his other hand a second before four Narutos exploded from the water, shouting: “You ALL belong to the Kraken, now!” and latched onto someone. Sasuke easily dispelled his and Sakura’s shadow clone assailants with basic taijutsu moves. Matsuko held his clone aloft, and gave his nose a simple flick, making it vanish in a puff of chakra smoke.. Miriyume gave the real Naruto a sympathetic smile, as he tried to lift her from the lake surface. “I can barely budge her chakra, little man,” Matsuko informed. “You really have to catch her completely off her guard to even hope to try.” “I would have had you ALL, if it weren’t for Sasuke ruining it!” Naruto fumed, crossing his arms obstinately, and scowling at his rival. “Sounds like ‘sour grapes’ to me,” Gekido opined as he and Aoseishin joined the group, then sneezed. “Sasuke! Sakura!” Kiba called, as he and Akamaru followed the other Inuzuka’s lead. “Did you see those lights?! It was like a dream!” “More like a nightmare,” Gekido returned, scowling at Miriyume. “That was Miriyume-sama’s doing,” Sakura replied. “Weren’t they beautiful?” Naruto suddenly tackled Kiba, attempting to douse him. “Naruto?! What are you doing?!” Kiba demanded. “I’m a Kraken! And I’m taking at least one of you down to a watery grave!” “You are really getting into this game....” Gekido observed. “Technically, you need to be underwater to be a Kraken, Naruto,” Miriyume ruled, as she laughed at the free-form wrestling match before her. “Speaking of which...” Gekido attempted to warn his teammate, before a strong pair of hands clasped both of Miriyume’s ankles, and yanked her beneath the surface. She barely had enough time to gasp for a quick breath. Naruto chuckled in triumph. “Our plan worked! The Kraken wins!” She looked strangely at ease in this watery realm. Perturbed, but otherwise unconcerned, as she floated beside him in his Water Prison Jutsu. Her blue-and-green eyes flared with the star of her Renkingen as she sought the exact boundaries of the bubble of denser water. “You can talk and breathe in there,” Kakashi assured, as a tendril of her amber-gold hair slipped silkily through the fingers of his hand that maintained the jutsu. “I”m not a real Kraken...” “That was clever,” Miriyume complimented, as she adopted a seated lotus position within the water prison, “...Using Naruto as a distraction. His chakra easily eclipses most, blinding me to your own.” “Am I on your radar now?” “You mean, sonar?” “I suppose so,” he shrugged. “At the moment.... So, am I your prisoner, or are you going to let me play the monster already?” Kakashi laughed. “Victims are looking rather sparse at the moment....and you could never be a monster.” “You obviously haven’t seen my sage-form yet,” Miriyume quipped. “Care to enlighten me?” “In a lake...?! ....that contains my friends and allies?! What the hell kind of teacher are you?!” “A bad one, I’ll admit,” Kakashi returned. “But then, I’ve heard tell that you aren’t the ‘most eager’ of students, either. Perhaps we could....mutually benefit from a better association? Your style of jutsu intrigues me....” “Oh no...” Miriyume intoned, as she performed a set of hand jutsu that created a sphere of air in her hands. “I stopped calling anyone ‘sensei’ a long time ago. Its better...and safer that way.” There was a tinge of sorrow in her last statement. She expanded the air sphere, absorbing and transmuting the chakra nature of the Water Prison Jutsu, replacing the dense water with a fresh, spring-like bubble of oxygen, firmly under her control. “Experience....and an itinerant storm-kami, are my only teachers now.” “Then perhaps you could teach me...specifically about your Chidori technique. You call it ‘Storm Gauntlet’...? You’re a Lightning Affinity, aren’t you?” She gave him a look that she reserved for those who feigned ignorance. It wasn’t pleasant. “Yes...and....” she sighed. “Then why did it....’latch’ onto mine?” She took a moment to review the strange incident in her mind. It was so long ago. Nearly buried under a flurry of unpleasant memories... “I don’t know,” she admitted freely. “I have worked in conjunction with many lightening affinities, but have never experienced that....melding before. My Mother once tried to explain it. Something about resonance....or convergence....I can’t remember exactly,” as she went through the motions of yet another jutsu technique, and briefly enveloped herself in a wreathe of flame that dried her clothes and hair. Kakashi had rarely encountered such a casual usage of chakra before. “But then, quantum chakra theory was never my strong suit...” “But you seem to have quite a talent for Nature Transformation,” Kakashi complimented, as he examined the Air Prison closer by uncovering his Sharingan. “Who’s the prisoner now?” “I don’t like this,” Gekido announced, as he scanned the surface of the nearly fog-free lake. The game had finally ground to a halt, with an ice-using shinobi from Shimogakure being declared the winner. “What don’t you like?” Matsuko obediently asked, as Aoseishin shook the water from his thick, white and pale blue coat, spraying a fair amount of it Matsuko’s way. “I can’t see Miri-chan anywhere. Is she still underwater?” squinting his slitted eyes in an attempt to peer past the surface. “Sparkler’s a big girl now, Fuzzy,” Matsuko returned, as he lay back to dry himself in the noon sun. “She’ll let us know if there’s any trouble.” Gekido scoffed. “Like her brother...?” “Ryuuyuki was a stubborn man with a ‘lone wolf’ complex. Miri-chan has never been like that.” “Yeah, but lately....I’ve been noticing some unpleasant patterns,” he resumed his measured pacing by the shoreline. “Like the Getsugawa Cave incident? Or the Hole-in-the-Wall, in the Land of Earth?” “Yes, well,” Matsuko returned. “She has always been intrigued by rumors of treasure...” “....and need I remind you about her rambling around alone in the ruins of Uzushiogakure every chance she gets. And her sage form seems to give her plenty of opportunities...” “Alright, point taken!” Matsuko gave in. “She is getting a bad habit of striking out on her own, but, I have faith that she understands the consequences of going ‘full rogue’.” “I’ve never been much of one for faith, Earthquake,” Gekido returned. “I require substance....like keeping her in my sights, or sense of smell....” he sniffed at the gentle breeze that blew over the lake, clearing it of the remaining fog. “Where is she?” “Well, the last time I saw her,” Matsuko stood beside his antsy friend, “she was ‘eaten’ by the Kraken...and it was that Kakashi guy...” “That guy....” Gekido snorted, and kicked at the ground like petulant child, “...thinks he’s ‘so cool’ with his hidden face, and his silly crooked hair...and his mis-matched eyes. I ought to plant a frost-star where the sun-don’t-shine on him, for disrespecting Miri-chan with his mask-thingie...” he mimed throwing a shuriken across the lake. “Do you see him?” “See who?” Kakashi asked, suddenly behind them. Gekido nearly jumped into the lake. “You, you...cyclops! Where’s Miriyume?!” the Inuzuka demanded, as Matsuko tired not to laugh too hard. Kakashi lifted his headband to expose the Sharingan for a moment, making the other two men flinch. He regarded the lake surface. “She’s still down there,” he returned, having easily seen her unique chakra beneath the tranquil waves. “But don’t worry, I left her in good company.”

“So...what was the big celebration about...?” Kakashi began, grasping at any straw to keep this alluring woman all to himself for a bit longer, in this private little realm. “The night we met...back in Shimogakure? I never found out.” “I believe it was the Trueheart’s Festival,” Miriyume answered. “What is that, exactly?” “An excuse to party,” she smiled back with that off-kilter smirk that snared him tighter every time she used it on him. “Officially, it’s a day to prove one’s affections.” “Like Valentine’s Day?” “Kind of...but less...specific,” she continued. “People do wind up on dates, but your affections are supposed to be for everyone who goes out of their way to be nice.” “...and the kissing...?” “What better way to signal one’s affections than by kissing? On the cheek. Sometimes on the lips. A small bit of warmth in an otherwise cold world.” She looked almost wistful. “Shimogakurans seem so casual about them...” “And you seem so ardently opposed. You certainly have built up your bulwarks against them.” “Not everyone can afford to live life so free...” “Not every village is as enlightened as mine.” A note of indignance was creeping into her voice. “We pride ourselves on our ability to live our lives to the fullest, knowing that to do otherwise is to insult all we defend. So yes, we drink. We dance. We kiss strangers in our midst....” “....you skate on cracking ice....routinely consume vile whiskey....nearly let it drag you off an icy waterfall....” “No one throws a party like Shimogakure; and DON’T insult our winter whiskey! It’s a holy sacrament! And damn good at counter-reacting most poisons,” she defended hotly. He swore he could see a bit of static crackling about her. And the air had suddenly become drier... “Okay...sensei–ur...” he tapered off, “Kakashi apologizes,” holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. Her ambient chakra had gone from a passive billowing to a menacing flare, and back again. Stormy aspect was an apt description, and he was finding her more and more fascinating by the second. “So...” he continued, trying his best to sound nonchalant, “Did you...have a date...that night? The night we met...?” “No,” she seemed a bit self-conscious in the admission. “No one liked me in that way up there. No one serious, anyway. But candy and flowers and kisses can be for platonic friends, too, and even strangers who wander in, who aren’t rude, and take off their masks when asked!” glaring back from across the air bubble. “I had no choice!” he reasserted, “Anbu agents are forbidden to reveal their identities!” “Rules or not, you denied me, which I’m not inclined to forgive so easily,” turning away. She could hold a grudge, alright. And her pride was off the charts. He could see the questions waiting in those jewel-like eyes, but she wasn’t about to ask them. He plainly saw how her mind was a chaotic torrent of memories concerning that night. Now that he knew the full story, he figured that their strange introduction to one another that night, on the cusp of such horror that followed, may have been the last ‘positive’ recollection she had. He gulped at the realization. He’d met her right before her brother died. He elected to be charitable: “I returned, Miriyume-sama,” he volunteered softly. “A week later. Without the others. Without the Anbu mask.” “You....what?” She turned back toward him, chakra aura guttering. “I came back to look for you,” Kakashi repeated. “But no one would speak of you, or what had happened. And they showed me the funeral stone. I thought you were dead.” She turned. Eyes wide. Face a whiter shade of pale. “No one....told me.” She then hung her head in a sorrow so pervasive that it made him clutch at his own heart. “But why would they?” Kakashi struggled past the sudden pall, “I was a foreigner, intruding on their grief. They had just lost a hero, and very nearly lost a heroine....” She wiped her eyes, and summoned a not-quite-genuine laugh to alleviate the sadness. That act alone nearly broke Kakashi’s heart all over again. “I am no heroine,” Miriyume corrected. “I’m just a misfit with noble intentions, floundering in the wake of the North Wind.” She tilted her head slightly sideways to release the welling tears in her shining eyes. Again, she forced a light chuckle, as she wiped the glistening trails from her flushed cheeks. Laughter through tears; a rather masochistic coping mechanism. Kakashi was struck speechless with the enormity of the moment. She didn’t hide her pain...she taunted it. “So, I guess I can forgive you,” Miriyume began, forcibly shoving aside her sorrow. “I’m sorry my village wasn’t more helpful. Its not the first time our customs have caused trouble.” “The only trouble was my pessimistic attitude, and that was gained long before that moment,” Kakashi returned. “If only I had some capacity for hope...I’d have keep looking....” So many years wasted, he inwardly scolded himself. “Well, here I am,” she smiled, stepping closer, arms folded across her chest. “....Wherever I go. Where are you?” “At the moment....here,” Kakashi replied. It wasn’t a complete lie... She stepped closer. “Well....?” “Well, what...?” Kakashi rebounded, confused. “Do you want your Trueheart’s Night kiss, or not?” she scowled up at him in the most adorable way. Kakashi’s staggered slightly at the question, exposed cheek instantly bloomed crimson. “You’d....you would still grant that?! After all this time?” “You’re the only one who really deserved it that night. Saving my life on the lake,” she reminded. <<And you’re the guy who’s haunted my dreams ever since,>> she added silently. “...and I like to settle my accounts....” she joked, drawing yet closer. The only one. Never had those words sounded sweeter to Kakashi’s ears. He took a deep, blissful breath, closed his eyes, and compensated for her shorter stature by leaning down a bit. Following an awkward moment of giddy anticipation where nothing seemed to be happening, he opened his eyes to find her scowling again. “What’s the matter?” “There’s another mask in my way....” she growled back. “Oh, this?” touching his trademark garment, “Don’t worry. Its soft.” “That’s not the point! What are you...afraid of germs, or something?” “No...” he backpedaled from her rising ire...and chakra....slightly. She only matched his retreat. “Are you horribly scarred by acid? Or deformed?” “No! At least, I don’t think so...” he was backed up against the wall of the bubble now. Her bubble. And she was right up against him, chakra-aura fully banked. Its light made him squint. “...Then, why hide?!” she demanded. What was she really asking here? And why did he suddenly feel like he was on the inside of a rasengan? “Because I like to appear....mysterious...?” he offered blithely, as watched the stars flash in her eyes, and her chakra aura resolve into opalescent flames. Why was it suddenly so cold in here...? “And I like to be....honest,” her smile had taken on a more sinister aspect, as she began to coalesce an odd energy in her hands before him. A deep, dangerous hum began to sound in his ears. Something that he hadn’t heard since their last meeting... “I’ve refined my Storm Gauntlet Technique somewhat, since you last saw me, blending my lighting nature with every other chakra I’ve come across. But I’ve grown rather fond of one mixture in particular that can’t seem to be replicated by anyone else. Probably due to the enormous amounts of chakra required. Would the ‘mysterious’ Copy-Ninja like to try?” “Do I have a choice...?” he winced, as she held a large orb of dark, opalescent flame up to him for uncomfortably close inspection. True to its name, it was made of ice and fire....but there was also a massive amount of lighting in its composition, making it a fusion of no less than four types of chakra. Everything about this jutsu told him it would burn if he touched it, yet it radiated a cold energy, akin to a winter storm’s gale. “What’s the matter, Hata-sensei....? You did say that you found my jutsu-style ‘intriguing’, didn’t you?” He could feel his own chakra that held his being together begin to unravel in the event horizon of her radically increasing power. A power that seemed intimately tied to her emotional state. Oh gods... The surge of her Ice Fire Jutsu scattered Kakashi’s Shadow Clone’s essence into a deeply frustrated puff of smoke, leaving Miriyume alone and rather agitated in her Air Prison.

#kakashi

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dragons-bones · 5 years

Text

FFXIV Write Entry #9: Finally

Prompt: hesitate | Master Post | On AO3

“Now, this time,” the chirurgeon said, tone icy as he finished tying off the bandage, “I expect you to rest. That means you are to stay in bed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Yannistand,” Aymeric said. It took most of his willpower to keep from sounding like a meek recruit under the force of the elder man’s glare.

The Temple Knight’s chief chirurgeon sniffed and gathered up his supplies. With one last pointed glare at the Lord Commander, he turned on his heel and strode from his private quarters in a swirl of robes and palpable disdain.

Aymeric let out a quiet breath of relief and gingerly leaned back against the pillows piled behind him. He wasn’t entirely sure where they had all come from; not even his bed back at Borel Manor had so many. The likely suspects were, of course, his own Temple Knights, and he dearly hoped they hadn’t stripped the barracks of all the pillows that were actually supportive.

He should offer up prayers to the Fury. As Yannistand—and Handeloup, and Lucia, and then Handeloup again, and Lucia a second time, and a third, and then of course Yannistand yet again, with quite a bit fouler language than previously—had told him, multiple times, he had been profoundly lucky. That the assassin’s knife had only knicked one of his internal organs, rather than perforated, firstly. That Count Edmont and Lord Artoirel had been with him when he was attacked, and had managed to keep him from bleeding out before his Knights arrived, secondly. That he had torn only his external stitches, not reopened the internal wounds, during the rescue of the hostages from the Vault, thirdly.

Truly, though, little Maelie was the luckiest of them. If Vidofnir had been even a moment later to arrive…

Aymeric shuddered. No, that did not bear thinking of, either her averted fate or the repercussions should it have come to pass.

He eyed his bedside table speculatively. Lucia had promptly whisked away all of his usual paperwork when Yannistand had hauled him to his room to redo his stitches and redress the wound, with Handeloup a step behind her depositing a pile of books in its stead. Leisure reading, of course; he recognized more than one pulp novel that had been making the rounds in the barracks.

He was in the processing of reaching for the top book when his linkpearl chimed. He blinked in confusion; that was Lucia’s line, and she had been adamant that he was to rest.

Aymeric picked up the ‘pearl cuff and held it to his ear. “Yes, Lucia?”

“Sir, this is your only warning: Synnove is furious. She’s also, mmmm, probably two-thirds of the way to your quarters by now.”

At that point, a loud BOOM echoed through his quarters: a very, very loud knock on his door. “AYMERIC DE BOREL,” a very familiar voice roared.

“Oops. I seem to have miscalculated.” Lucia was utterly unrepentant. Then, before she cut the connection, her voice came back over the line, oddly sing-song: “Good lu~uck.”

Aymeric lowered his hand, staring at the linkpearl cuff in horrified silence. Lucia had been spending far too much time with Rereha.

The pounding knocks picked up again. He set the cuff aside and called, “Come in, Synnove!”

He heard and felt the door burst open and crack against the wall from the force with which Synnove Greywolfe, then slam shut again. Four stomping strides and she turned the corner from his tiny receiving parlor (a term mostly used in jest by the Temple Knights) into the bedchamber. Lucia had been understating it: Synnove was incandescently furious, emerald eyes blazing in such a way that he swore they were aglow with the Dreadwyrm’s own aether once more.

“You,” she said, pointing at him with a shaking hand, “are fucking trouble.”

Her voice had lost the refined, arcanists’ clip many of the assessors of Mealvaan’s Gate picked up during the course of their studies. It was, in fact, very strongly Ala Mhigan, with a strong influence of the Vylbrandian cant most Lominsan pirates used. Synnove only spoke in such a manner in fits of strong emotion, and he’d heard both Alakhai and Dancing Heron call it ‘a horrifying butchering of good language.’

“You damned bloody fool, going into battle with a fucking gut wound that was still healing! What in the HELLS were you thinking?!”

Were it anyone else, such an accent would sound quite horrible. But from Synnove, when she spoke it from passionate anger or laughing to the point of tears or the very depths of sorrow? How it could be anything other than wonderful?

Synnove was advancing on him, still yelling and cursing, until she was leaning over him and had her forefinger practically in his face. Were he any other man, who didn’t feel what he felt for this marvelous, woman, he might have quailed at her rage. He had fought by her side in the Vault, however, and he knew what she looked like when her rage was aimed at someone whom she hated, for whom she felt disgust, as she did towards the terrorists who had thought to spill innocent blood in their blind zealotry.

This was anger born of worry, of fear, of not knowing if a loved one was hurt beyond saving. It the anger of relief, the anger of pent up emotion that needed an outlet—and a raised, shaking voice was all that would do.

Perhaps being three times lucky under Halone’s watchful gaze meant it was time to cease denying what was between them.

Aymeric reached up, gently grasping her wrist, and dropped a kiss on Synnove’s palm. The woman stopped mid-rant, dropping her eyes to stare at her hand, then raising them again slowly to meet his. Her pupils had widened in shock, but he’d known her long enough by now to also know she wasn’t angry. Not at this. He smiled up at her, gently.

Synnove stared at him for another three heartbeats, then said, “Ah, to hells with it,” grasped his face in her hands, and kissed him.

He couldn’t help it—he grinned, laughing quietly against her lips. They were warm and only slightly chapped—she hadn’t been wearing that gloss of late, the one she had used to combat the cold, dry Coerthan air during her stay at Fortemps Manor—but it was far and away better than anything he had ever dreamed. She chuckled as well, the sound vibrating through him pleasantly, before she drew back and rested her forehead against his.

“You’re still an idiotic fool for that stunt,” Synnove said, but the grin she wore took the bite from her words, as did the way she brushed his cheeks with her thumbs.

Aymeric cupped her face in his own hands, smiling. “So I have heard from many people today.” He tilted his head to brush another kiss against her lips, and murmured, “I love you, Synnove Greywolfe.”

A blush stained her cheeks, making the grey clan tattoos stand out, and she beamed at him. “I love you, too, Aymeric de Borel.”

He beamed back at her, warmth suffusing him.

“All right,” she said, drawing back to make a shooing motion with her hands at him, “budge over, I want to cuddle.”

Aymeric laughed, but did as requested, carefully moving sideways until there was room for Synnove on the bed next to him. She kicked her boots off—how she managed that with thigh boots he hoped to one day find out—and crawled in next to him, pressing up against his side while he wrapped an arm around her waist. She dropped her head on his shoulder and sighed heavily.

“Please don’t do something so foolish again, Aymeric,” she whispered. “I know it’s the pot calling the kettle black, but…” She bit her lower lip, gaze dropping to their laps.

He kissed her forehead, then nuzzled into her hair. “While I can’t make promises, as serving as Lord Commander means I will have to continue to put myself on the frontlines,” he said, “I will do my best to be less…impulsive, going forward.”

Synnove sighed. “That’s the best I can ask.”

At that moment, three faces peered over the edge of the bed, yipping a question in unison. Aymeric raised an eyebrow; Tyr had to be laying flat on his stomach to match his siblings with that little trick. He looked at Synnove. “Well, I have no objections,” he said.

“Oh good,” she replied. “We’re a package deal, after all.”

He gave her another kiss, this one lingering, and pointedly ignored Ivar’s growling. When they drew back, he said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Galette crawled up first, shamelessly walking over Synnove, to her exasperated mutterings, so she could haul herself up around Aymeric’s shoulders and settle about his neck. Tyr scrambled up at the same time as Ivar; the giant topaz carbuncle loafed on both their legs, and started up a deep, brassy purr that rumbled through their bones, while Ivar curled up in Synnove’s lap. With the carbuncles settled, Synnove leaned over to the table, grabbing the novel Aymeric had been eyeing before her arrival, and snuggled down into the pile.

“Your Knights have awful taste in literature,” she said, examining the cover, but flipped it open to the first chapter.

“Now that is truly the pot calling the kettle black,” Aymeric said. “I remember you complaining about the drivel the first-year arcanists were obsessing over last semester.”

Synnove snickered. Aymeric pulled her closer, pressed his lips against her temple, and hummed contently as she began to read aloud.

#ffxivwrite2019 #dt's writing #final fantasy xiv #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #oc: synnove greywolfe #lucia goe junius

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