#and i also think their gems would be visible through their hooves

[magicalfish6286]

houseki no pony

#houseki no kuni #my little pony #hnk bortz #hnk diamond #phosphophyllite #i think they would have their gems visible in the ridges of their horns #and i also think their gems would be visible through their hooves #i didn't include any pegasus here but i think they would have gem wings. Not sure how they manage to fly but it'd look cool

[loadingrat]

⿻ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 → 𝐤. 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

🏻 ⃟⿻ 𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐫 𝐞  →    angst; retelling; fantasy

🏼 ⃟⿻ 𝐬 𝐮 𝐦 𝐦 𝐚 𝐫 𝐲  →   with the burden of a crown on his head, Hongjoong finds himself forced to get a bride before he turns twenty two, yet he finds himself struck by love with a cursed young woman named Odette, who's body turns to swan at dawn. it all should be as simple as snapping your fingers to break the curse, when all it takes is three little words, yet, when spoken wrongly, they may do more harm then good.

🏽 ⃟⿻ 𝐰 𝐚 𝐫 𝐧 𝐢 𝐧 𝐠 𝐬   →   this awfully written i apologise; based off the ballet, so suicide; dark magic; violence; mention of a curse; the usual swearing; hunting; instant love; drowning; overprotective parents and another shitty ass parent if you ask me; forced marriage; the reader is referred to as "Odette"

🏾 ⃟⿻ 𝐰 𝐨 𝐫 𝐝 𝐬   → + 5.5k

🏿 ⃟⿻ 𝐦 𝐚 𝐬 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 𝐬 →  main masterlist   ⦚   retellings

   Hongjoong always enjoyed watching as the wind bent under the will of his arrows, obeying them and letting the weapons find their way right in the middle of the red target. It brought pride in his chest, and helped him feel more like a boy stuck with a crown on his head than a prince stuck with the future of a kingdom on his back. He loved to see how flour would purr out of the sacks full of the snow like powder that stood in the royal yard, and so did his friends, as they always cheered him on, despite getting their expensive clothes all dirtied up.

   Saying that Kim Hongjoong's life was anything but exiting would've been the understandment of the year, that only if the words wouldn't have reached his mother's ears. However the queen was always aware of anything and everything going on in her kingdom, as if the old woman with her hair like silver had eyes in every corner of the territory. The prince always disliked that in her as he himself was never allowed to even leave the palace without one of his parents following. Of course, he was grateful that the queen and the king were the most understanding royalties he's ever met, and he got to speak to a lot on a daily, however, when it came to actually understanding him, sadly they were left lacking. The prince hated the way he pictured himself in this situation, but he couldn't do much and just accept that he was like a swan trapped in a dove's cage, and it made him feel completely hopeless.

   "You'll try getting out this evening, won't you?" The words slipped prince Wooyoung's lips as if he asked the same thing over and over. The smile on his lips had always faded during previous days, as the answer would've been a sad shake of the head, but the said day it only bloomed as Hongjoong turned his head around, looking at his bow as if it was the most interesting thing he's seen in his lifetime. "Holy shit, he didn't deny it!" Wooyoung spoke, a loud sound like a hyena's laughter ringing from his lungs as he repeatedly slapped his best friend's back. The other prince tried moving away, his abused body protesting with each hit Wooyoung delivered, but deciding that he'd fail anyways, Yeosang resorted to catching the younger's hand and delivering a harsh hit back. "But he did not agree to it either."

   It took only two more hours for the man to find himself sitting at a lavish dinner table, all kind of foods placed before them, yet the anxiety growing inside his heart made it easy for his appetite to stray away. "Hongjoong?" His father's voice was harsh as he demanded the prince to give him his attention. His mother's words followed right after, tone dripping with honey and Hongjoong knew something was in her mind. "The date for your birthday ball is approaching." She stated, and the man couldn't help but try to anticipate what she would've said next. "And we thought that it would be a rather perfect time for you to find a bride."

   The prince sucked in a hard breath, not trusting his voice to speak up his mind as it could've cracked, and he was not a teenager anymore, so he feared the way it could've made him look weak in front of the King. Hongjoong had met many princesses, duchesses, nobilities of all kinds, even country girls with exceptional talents, but none ever intrigued him and he surely wasn't going to choose a bride just yet. Hongjoong liked to believe he was too you for marriage, but his two friends always nagged that if he'll dare pass twenty five by himself, no princess will ever marry him for his heart, but for his crown instead, to which Hongjoong only scoffed as he dispatched another set of arrows. "I don't think anyone's marrying me for my heart now either."

    "So what do you say?" He felt as if his words were stuck in his throat and he was unable to get then out, but even if he would've answered as he truly believed, he knew his pleadings would've fallen on deaf ears. Hongjoong knew this day was going to come sooner or earlier, he just didn't expect it quite yet. "I agree, mother," the prince didn't know what gave him the courage to stretch his words, or to arch his eyebrows upwards, or smile like he did, all the while still looking in his plate. "However i also have a proposal.."

   Truly, Hongjoong doesn't know what came over him that evening, yet it was because of his boldness that he found himself mounting one of the finest mares in the stables. The prince had taken care of the horse since it was barely standing, he himself being only a child, enchanted by the pure white little fur on it. He's called her Zoya, a fitting name for a mount like herself, and despite leaving the palace only a couple of times, alongside of his father or mother, he considered the creature loyal enough to not abandon him when he'll most need her.

   With his bow resting in at his hip, the prince started following a rather small river, which eventually brought him in town and down the valley the palace rested on. Hongjoong wearily adventured himself in the wide forest that spread before him, the darkness of it making him shiver slightly as his mind finally wrapped around all the danger that could've hid around. Wolves, bears, mountain lions, all kind of creatures lurked in the forest, however the silver haired prince advanced nonetheless, clutching his bow tighter as if it could've made him feel secure once more.

   Just as he was about to urge his horse to start running, the sound of rapid wings flapping in the air made his skin crowl and his head shoot back, his eyes snapping rapidly on a flock of birds. Their fathers were as white as you could've imagined and as pure as it could've gotten, their bodies long, majestic and elegant, and Hongjoong couldn't help but let his mouth hang open as he stared at the beautiful swans that took over the sky. Within seconds, the brave prince clutched his bow and aimed skillfully, ready to let his arrow pierce through what he nominated as the prettiest swan, but Hongjoong wasn't as hard hearted as his father believed him to be, his eyes saddening and his chest burning as he asked himself how could he kill such a beautiful creature.

   The prince sighed deeply, putting his bow back and giving the horse a gentle nudge as a sign to follow the flock and Zoya took off obediently, rushing Hongjoong through the woods. He enjoyed the way wind blew through his silver locks, caressing his cheeks harshly and he love the adrenaline that came with riding this fast and thinking about how free one could be, thinking about what he's missed his whole life. Hongjoong knew that where there was a smaller river, there had to be a wider water source near by, and the swans that seemed to start heading down only gave him more reasons to believe he was right. The only problem was that he was not expecting the woods to end so quickly, his horse coming to an abrupt halt as it hooves planted in the mud as harsh as it could.

   He jumped eagerly from his horse and there, right before him and barely at two steps away from where his horse stopped, a grand body of water spread itself so widely that the other side of the lake was barley visible through the thin mist. The water sparkled in the shy sunlight of the evening, the sound of a small cascade barely audible in the back and the prince felt his jaw drop slightly one more time. If his mother would've been with him, she wouldn't even look at the beauty in front of her, but would scold him about how unmannered he looked and how that wasn't suitable for princes like him, not even in a million years, but as he spotted the swans floating happily around, everything about manners felt long forgotten.

   The boy in him had the urgent need to sit down in the slightly damp yet soft grass, eyes wide on the beautiful birds before him, yet the mature side in him wanted to mount back on his horse and move forward. There was so much more to explore and so little time, his mind wrapping around the fact that his father had gave him one single day to ride around the kingdom, with the condition that he'd return the evening before the horologe rang three in the morning. Therefore, the prince clutched on the horse's reins ready to mount, sparing one last glance at the lake, who's water started reflecting the rosy color of the sky.

   Hongjoong sucked in his breath, feeling how air left his lungs as he swore he started imagining things. His head whipped back, the forest remaining the only sight for a while, and he took his time thinking about what came into his sight seconds ago. Not long after, he turned around and came to the horrifying conclusion that he was indeed watching as the small bodies of the swans, that now rested calmly on the shore, morphed and twisted, becoming mere humans. Their build was more than just elegant, bodies long and delicate, nothing short of pure beauty. Each wore long gowns, as white and pure as their dazzling wings were, little silver necklaces with one sapphire gem decorating their necks, yet he quickly took notice of the one swan that stood in the middle of them all, sitted on the old trunk of a tree, her eyes glimming with happiness while a silver tiara rested on the top of her head.

   The prince watched them with amazement, as if they had put him under a thick spell like sirens would do to the poor sailors adventuring in the deep waters. Yet the more he watched, the more he couldn't help but feel like an intruder. The women danced and laughed when younger swans tried to impress them, then ran quickly to hide under an older swan's wing. The innocence of the moment was making his own heart fill with happiness, lips curling upwards gently and eyes turning in crescents as a squeaky giggle rolled off his throat.

   The moment all the laughter stopped and a cutting silence settled in, the prince knew he had done something wrong. He felt the warmth that had built in his chest being stripped away from him, eyes growing wide and startled, just as the swans had became. It didn't take long for Hongjoong to see how every pair of eyes rested on him, making him feel anxious. Should he leave? Or was he supposed to stay now? Either way, the answer would've been to not panic, which he's failed the moment one of the youngest of the creatures approached him, yelling loudly the name of who he supposed was the swan with the tiara.

   "Odette! Odette!" The small girl yelled happily, grabbing the prince's hand and jumping up and down while giggling. "It's prince charming! He's come to save us!" At her words, Hongjoong's cheeks started flaring pink, his heart beating faster as each pair of eyes rested on him, and he completely forgot about his tight grip on the bow in his other hand. The mare let out a loud cry, startled by the poor girl before slamming it's hooves harshly in the ground multiple times. In alert, Hongjoong let go of his bow, grabbing the girl's body in his arms and hurrying further away from the horse, who angrily took off back towards the town.

   "Yuna, dear!" The swan quickly run to the prince, her hands coming to grip Hongjoong's arms, which were still holding tightly onto her. "Are you alright?" His voice sounded unsure as he let the woman gently take her in her own hold, hand placing the younger's head again her chest. When a little laughter came from Yuna's lips, everyone sighed in relief, smiles painted on the swans' lips when the smaller swan jumped back on the grass and began twirling around the royalty as she giggled loudly. "Yuna, where are your manners?" Another swan called out, her lips pulled in a thin line and her eyebrows furrowed, and she most definetly was the oldest of the group, her aura holding a maturity that amazed Hongjoong, despite her youthful features.

   "Don't tense yourself, Yongsun." The youngest girl however rolled her eyes at the authority in Yongsun's voice, her own lips pulled in a pout as she bowed slightly in front of the silver haired man. He gave her a polite smile before bowing right back, sending the women in awe. "Come sit with us." The girl next to him offered, and he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her striking features. She was an unique type of beauty, something he's never seen in anyone before, not even in all the princesses that's come to court him. He loved her voice as well, her tone being like honey to his ears and he couldn't even bring himself to care about the sudden drop of formalities when his orbs found hers.

   "I would hate to make such beautiful ladies uncomfortable with my presence." He acknowledged humbly, felling a shy smile tug at his lips while hearing how the woman, who he assumed was named Odette, let out a wholehearted laugh, her eyes turning to crescents as one of her hands came to hide her mouth. "Bother us? It would be a crime to not enjoy your presence." She assured, nodding her head towards him like encouraging him to take a step forward, and so he did. One step at a time before he found himself sitting in the grass besides a couple of children, who playfully pulled at his clothes and wowed at the fine material.

   "What's your name, son?" The oldest inquired, making Hongjoong's cheeks become pinker again, however this time, his eyes fell on the ground, where his ring decorated fingers gently pulled at the damb grass. "Kim Hongjoong." He spoke softly, not expecting any grand reactions form the group, who only nodded their heads in adoration. "We'll would you look at that, it really is prince charming." Another swan laughed, making Hongjoong himself let out a shy giggle, his eyes involuntary traveling to the swan with a tiara. It felt like hours that he stood there and just watched her, her skin bathing in the golden light of the sunset, and her eyes glimmering with love as she looked at each swan, before her eyes settled on him as well.

   "Do you like to dance?" One of the younger swans looked at him curiously, her small hand coming to grasp at Hongjoong's with excitement as she awaited a reply, and when the prince nodded his head in agreemen, he girl softly tugged him after her, bringing him to his feet. Together, they marveled at the way the forest started lighting up as soon as the sun went under, mushrooms and strange plants glowing in the dark, along with the moss on the trees, it was absolutely beautiful. However Hongjoong didn't have long to observe the landscape, his attention being brought back to the small girl that began dancing with him as the others started singing along, and it didn't take a while for the swans to join in as well, a chorus of laughter spreading trough the rather dormant forest as they all had their fun.

   Yongsun smiled happily as she took Odette's's hand, bringing her closer to the silver haired prince, who bowed deeply and offered his hand, an invitation, the girl concluded as she accepted happily. Perhaps only for tonight, she could forget about her curse, see herself as an actual princess and lose herself in the idea that Hongjoong would be the one to break the curse. However nothing like that happened as they began dancing, a tough wind starting to pull at their bodies, darkness spreading like a plague. The youngest girls found coverage behind the elders, while Hongjoong placed his arms around Odette and brought her closer to his chest, protecting the swan from whatever danger eas awaiting them.

   "Well well.." the sharp voice of a girl that came with the calmness of the weather startled the prince, who felt reluctant to let go of the swan in his arms, yet still let go of her and watched as disgust painted over Odette's features and anger over the others. Just on the shore stood another woman, her gown way shorter and messier as well as dotted with darker shades of black. Her features were just as graceful and as striking as the others, her own features making her look like a devine, but something about her tone made the prince feel sure that she wasn't just as beautiful on the inside.

   "The swan princess found herself a rescuer." She taunted while getting closer, her thumb and pointer wrapping around Odette's chin and bringing her closer. The princess, as the stranger called her, let out a scoff before pulling away, making the black swan laugh as if she was in hysterics. "Hoping you'll turn human again, little one?" She fumed, letting her eyes fall on Hongjoong, who stood stiff and angered, eyes on her like, if he had his arrows, he wouldn't have hesitated to let one of them pierce her heart.

   "It'll never happen, we'll make sure of that, little Odette." The stranger cocked one of her eyebrows while shaking her head and her fingers glazed over the necklace she was proudly wearing. With a last laugh, the black swan took a couple of steps back before her body quickly morphed in the one of a swan, yet her feathers looked disturbed and unhealthy, her body, small, too weak for a creature that was supposed to look as beautiful as a swan.

   "Who was that?" Hongjoong found himself asking, his own eyebrows arched upwards in confusion. His hand found Odette's and gripped it lightly a reassuring smile tugging at the girl's lips as she found comfort in the prince, who was still a stranger. "Odile.. Her father tried casting a curse on the town, however it did not go as planned and it ended up backfiring." She began explaining, choosing carefully her words as she took a glance at his chocolate warm eyes. The prince himself let his gaze meet hers, observant eyes curiously investigating her for a while before he spoke out loud. "Then why are you trapped as swans as well?" Silence washed over the group, the tension growing so thick that Hongjoong could've cut it with a knife. "I didn't say that it didn't work."

   Not much passed before Hongjoong excused himself, getting up and fetching his bow that stood patiently in the grass. He's dropped it earlier when Zoya took off and completely forgot about it, however, in his favor, his loyal mare had found her way back to the lake, thirst driving it back the way it's come. After the prince found himself back on his mount, thanking all of his lucky stars for bringing it back to him, he finally let his eyes fall on the woman with a little crown on her head. He swore he felt his heart beating faster than ever, swirling with the desire to take her with him and keep her to himself, to make her his, and at that moment he knew that there was no one that could ever become his queen, except her.

   "I must head out, however my family is hosting a ball tomorrow, at dusk, in order to find me a bride. It would be a honor to have you as a guest." He spoke softly, taking in the surprise on Odette's face, who only nodded before waving elegantly. With a polite nod from himself, the prince saw himself off as Zoya started galloping as fast as she could towards the palace.

   "You must go." a cold and harsh voice spoke, making the girl's shoulders fall, she put so much hope that perhaps this time, she'll be able to find love by herself, and hearing her father speak like that made her whole world shatter. With a long sigh, the girl turned her head around, in order to hide her glassy eyes, telling herself that it all starts being unfair the moment even her father had turned against her. "I shall not, father." Was all Odile said before she lifted her chin high, eyes becoming sharp as she told herself that it was time to pull free from his strings, yet she had a feeling that it will not be as easy as denying his orders.

    Rothbart, the black swan's father, smiled triumphally, as if the crown had already been placed on his head. He let himself turn around and face his only daughter and with a hushed voiced he whispered. "You'll go.. oh you'll go." Odile wanted to protest, to yell and say something, but the second her father touched her necklace, the poor girl knew it was too late. It took her a quick moment of thinking, preparing herself for what she might see, before she finally turned to the mirror that stood patiently on a wall. It was then that complete sorrow engulfed her heart, failing to find her own reflection. Instead, a familiar face started back at her, Odette's features looking so beautiful and so graceful, yet so ugly to Odile, as she was left to deal with her pain before she could've stopped it. "You do not have a choice."

   "But what should i wear?" Odette sighed, bringing her hands in her lap as she eyed nervously the ground. Her crown was resting on her head, sapphires sparkling in the gentle moonlight. "I cannot show up to a royal ball in this gown.." as much as she loved her dress, it's material softer than silk and whiter than the pearls found in the ocean's depths, she feared it was nothing short of what noblewomen wore to sleep. The more she thought about it, the more Odette found herself trapped between her own thoughts. What if her hair was was not as elegant as the other princesses', what if her little white slippers were to dirty up the expensive carpets around the castle. Worse, despite knowing how to dance, Odette had little knowledge of etiquette, as she's grown up as a simple village girl. She was going to make a fool out of herself and the prince for inviting her.

   "Worry not, Odette." A soft voice came from behind her, but before she's gotten the chance to turn around, a pair of cold hands rested on her bare shoulders, making her gasp at the sudden feeling of chilliness. Shivers traveled up and down on her back, eyes becoming wide in surprise as the speed she turned her head around could've given her a whiplash. Yongsun giggled softly, amused by the fact that she actually spooked the younger swan. "You look beautiful, and your gown is magnificent. Made with soft material like your wings, pulled together by a thread of magic. My dear, you look breathtaking."

   Odette stood a second just looking at her friend, a long sigh leaving her mouth when she understood that Yongsun was right. All she had to do was to have fun, she'd be dancing and talking to people, nothing she hasn't done before, so why was she worrying now? "You should leave, it's getting late." Was all the older woman said as she bent down to kiss the top of her head like a mother would before sending off her child off. A couple of younger swans insisted of going with her, clinging on her gown and her hands before she agreed in defeat. A chorus of laughter and giggles following her the deeper she walked into the forest and the closer she's gotten to the palace.

        Hongjoong stood sitting on the throne, a crown on his head while his parents stood at both of his sides. His rather small body seemed to shrink more and more with every second and with each nod he gave to the young women that would come to bow before him. They were all wearing beautiful gowns, feminine features painted by a thin layer of makeup, jewelries decorating their necks, ears and hair, he had to admit that they were all beautiful, but none of them where Odette. His Odette. He waited patiently for her to make her appearance, eyes running back to the spiral staircase in hopes that he'd spot her, and his observant mother did not take long to notice. "You're waiting for someone." She announced, a hand resting on her son's shoulder in a way of assuring him that it will all be fine.

    Hongjoong nodded, his lips parting slightly as he pondered on his thoughts, however, before he's even gotten thr chance to speak, a familiar face made his heart beat like it never has, and his breath got stuck in his throat. A wave of heat crossed his cheeks, feeling as a strong blush took over his face. From one of the corners of the grand ballroom, he noticed Yeosang smirking his way, Wooyoung whispering something to him before they both snickered.

    "Your highness.." when she arrived in front of him, Hongjoong quickly has gotten up on his feet, refusing to let her bow before him. One of his hands gently taking one of her own as the other traveled to her side in order to bring her body closer to his own with a shy embrace. At the action, a couple of gasps could be heard throughout the room, everyone surprised at the prince's action, yet he did not care, and it could've been the reason why he completely looked past the vile smile that played on the girl's lips. "Odette.. will you dance with me?"

    "We've arrived too late!" One of the little swans warned as she peeked trough the closest window, huffing in defeat at the sight. Odette waisted no time in following her closely, face crumbling in defeat as he watched how her dear Hongjoong waltzed around the room with no one else but Odile. His eyes were so fixed on her that it seemed like she was his whole world, hands gripping her close like she'd parish if he let go, and everyone around them saw it. How in love he was, how much care he put in every step they made together, and that made Odette's stomach churn in pain. Her eyes began watering, heart screaming at her to do something yet her body remained frozen in place.

    "Odette..?" The little girl asked, her tone wobbling as her own eyes began to water as she watched the princess of the swans. The young woman's skin began morphing, little fluff and white feathers growing from her arms and shoulders at a slow peace, like she was to turn in swan once more. With each second she spent looking at her beloved dance with another woman, looking so smitten by her, the little sapphires on the crown she wore began to crack more and more, and panic took over the three children when their own necklaces followed closely and as Hongjoong's voice rang trough their ears.

    "So, Your Highness, would you say that you love me?" Odile questioned as she made eye contact with the prince, who giggled shyly before sighing deeply. He felt caught red-handed and all he could do now was nod his head slightly before speaking softly. "I love you." Yet something didn't feel right, deead filling his heart as he said his words, like a kid that's done something wrong and waited anxiously for his parents to scold him. It was then that he began to fall out of the spell he had been put under, noticing how the woman in front of him did not wear a crown yet a necklace, amber decorating the gem that rested patiently on her neck. The white gown that the swan once wore was not completed jet black, eyes harsh as a voice so cutting he began feeling dizzy.

    "You're not Odette." He stated, stopping from dancing and taking a couple of harsh steps back. The prince's hand flew to his sword, threatening to take it out and use it, yet Odile's smile never faltered. "Even if you harmed me, my mission here had ended." She explained, giggling once more before turning herself in the same swan she morphed in when they first met and before anyone could do anything, she flew past him, soaring trough the open window where four little figures stood at.

    "Odette..?" He asked, feeling his hear break as he noticed how heartbroken she looked, how her skin began turning in feathers and how tears cascaded over her cheeks like they couldn't be stopped. "Odette!" He yelled louder, rushing to jump over the window, yet failing to do so in time before the woman began running back towards the forest. "Hongjoong!" His father warned, yet the prince was far gone, already chasing after the swan with unshed tears blurring his own vision.

    It didn't take long for the two to reach the lake, scratches from little branches decorating their skin as neither had been careful while running, yet that did not matter to them, the heartache burning every bit of ration they had. "I did not know, Odette!" He tried explaining himself, taking a step forward towards the woman, who only took one back, her feet so close to the shore that it made Hongjoong's heart freeze in place. "I thought it was you.."

    Yet what was done was done and both of them knew it, the sapphires finally shuttering as Odette took her crown off, breaking it in two. Without even thinking about the outcome, the swan threw it into the lake, a muffled sob leaving her mouth as she herself took a step closer to the edge. "No! Odette please! I love you!" He shouted, yet it was all in vain as he knew that the curse will get to her before his words will.

    The second he noticed what she intended, the prince rushed to her side, gripping her waist tightly and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, eyes deeply staring in her own like their hearts spoke to each other, and it all felt more than ethereal as both of their bodies hit the water, sinking slowly as they held each other like not even death could do them apart.

   And perhaps it couldn't, as the second the sun began rising, the women that stood next to the lake and mourned the passing of their princess did not turn back to swans, and their gowns turned back to the clothes they once wore when they were running errands around the village. On the other side of the forest, Rothbart felt his powers leave him, a sudden weakness taking over his body as it slowly began turning to ashes. "No!" He yelled like a mantra, yet it was all in vain as ths moment the shy sunlight peeked trough his window, all that remained of him was an amber ring and his daughter, who only stared at the cracked mirror on the wall, ashamed of herself and mad at the world like never before.

    And even years after, deep down, on the bottom of the lake, the two lovers stood embraced, untouched by the time, as if they were simply sleeping. So perhaps, the curse that once plagued the young women became a blessing, as not only has she found peace, but love as well.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #kpop #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshots #kpop imagine #ateez hongjoong #ateez reaction #ateez retelling #ateez reactions #ateez smut

[erivan-khan]

ANNEX

Fandom: Countryhumans Characters: Prussia, Russian Empire, Ottoman Empire, Armenia, Matvey (Original Character - created/owned by ch_robots), Erivan (Original Character - created/owned by me) Warnings: Graphic Violence. Re-enactment of Historical Events that include colonization, war, and genocide

This story contains the following parts:

ANNEX part 1 - the Russian Empire annexes Erivan ANNEX part 2 - Congress of Berlin 1878 ANNEX part 3 - Matvey and Erivan

ANNEX pt 1

On the day of the surrender, snow fell on the mountain. All movement in and out of the fortress ceased as heavy white flakes covered up the mounds of dead men and horses all lost in the repeated sieges of his town. A tall khan stood alone on the white stone wall. He looked like a black fir tree, cloaked head to foot in black sheep skin. A huge round hat protected his head and brow, and his long coat bunched up around his face, leaving only his eyes visible: golden and piercing like a lion’s. The fortress was his to protect. The Sublime State of Persia had created him half a century ago for this sole purpose.

For years, the mighty Russian Empire to the north had funneled soldiers to their deaths in the Caucasus Mountains. There were others like him, also created by Persia, but only Erivan had lasted this long. Now it was over. 

He had been prepared to outlast the siege but his commanders had recalled him for their own protection when the Empire pressed past the surrendered bodies of the other khanates. The moment Erivan went to save them, Russia pounced upon him like a pack of wolves, having finally driven him into the open. The imperial eagle had swept down with wings unfettered by mountain winds. Surprisingly, its claws did not rend him to bits. Still, Erivan fully expected revenge for the Russian soldiers he’d repelled, left to starve and freeze to death in his mountains.  After all, the Empire had bayoneted the other Persian survivors. Why would he be treated differently?

He mused on this as he waited by the white wall. The sun rose over the plateaus in a cloudy gray sky. Although the falling snow muffled their arrival, Erivan could hear the echo of the marching army approaching. They came forward in a snake-like column that wound up the zigzag corridors that led to the top to the plateau. The banner of the tsar waved violently in the mountain air. The column marched seemingly unmoved by the body parts by the wayside. They did not stop, but stomped past the stock-still man and his white walls, inside the ancient Armenian fortress where his soldiers stood beside their guns placed on the ground. The Russians gave no notice of them either and marched until they had all filed in. At the end walked two more bannermen, one holding a tri-colored flag and the other holding a gold flag with the tsar’s eagle in the center. Horses paraded slowly behind the bannermen. Their riders all wore eagle helms and black uniforms with golden trim and white gloves. Their heads simultaneously shifted to stare at Erivan as they approached. With sharp claps of hooves, the horses stopped, tossing their heads at the snow icing their manes. 

“Salute!” The clarion sounded. In the horseman’s free hand, he held aloft Persia’s official seal, proof that the Sublime State had surrendered their lands and cities in the Caucasus to the Russian Empire. “From this moment henceforth, the Persian Empire has been defeated. All khanates are ordered to hereby surrender.” 

The horseman held the seal above his head, so that all could gaze upon it and know its veracity. Erivan did not doubt it, for he felt the seal's hold over him thrumming within his chest. The horseman lowered the seal and reverently handed it to the centermost of all riders. Four of the five horsemen dismounted at the same time, and the one holding the seal now stayed put. Erivan saw now that this rider’s gauntlets possessed jeweled rings on all fingers. The rider slipped the seal under their uniform coat.

The announcing horseman raised his voice again. “Kneel! Show obeisance to your new master, the Emperor of all Russia!” In a well-practiced motion, the horsemen all turned to face the last rider who slowly dismounted, boots crunching on snow. Inside the wall, all of the Russian column pivoted to form a great row across from Erivan’s men, who uneasily shifted in place before gradually falling to their knees beside their wet rifles.

Erivan studied the footsteps of the conqueror approaching him. Their boots ground the snow flat with each heavy step, a familiar gait, considering he’d fought this person face-to-face four times already.

“It’s you…” A voice husked through the closed helmet. “You have eluded my grasp until now. The Persians have wasted your potential keeping you here, don’t you agree?”

Erivan’s eyes moved up from the boots to the pressed pants and thick sable coat. He let the Empire’s question linger in the air between them. He took a moment to translate his reply from his native tongue to the Empire’s language. “My strengths are here, Imperial Majesty. I can still defend the Caucasus,” he answered finally.

“No, no, no, you are too much of a gem for me to leave unmined,” the Empire chuckled, rubbing a large golden ring around the gauntlet’s thumb.

“You… will not kill me?” Erivan ventured to ask.

The Russian Empire threw back their head and laughed. “After throwing so many men at you, you would have me leave empty-handed? No. Now, look at me,” they snarled in a sudden raspier voice. Abruptly, the gauntlets forced off the black helmet.

Erivan dared to look upon the imperial visage. With his seal in the Empire’s possession, he could not defy a direct order. He glanced at the other riders and they had all looked  to the side to avoid meeting the conqueror’s gaze. Erivan’s golden eyes, the pupils slitted like a cat’s, stared boldly at the Empire’s face. 

“Ohhh such forceful eyes, just like my willful son’s,” the Empire chuckled slowly. “Yes… you will do.” Grasping one glove with the other, they tugged it off and pointed to the ground just in front of their feet. The bare hand was nothing like a human’s. The thick forearm was white, the wide palm blue, and curled clawed fingers red as blood. 

Erivan took a step forward and knelt down to the snow with his sheep-skin coat as a barrier to the cold. He slowly removed his papaha from his head and released his hair in a deluge of curls down his cheeks and neck. The Russian Empire’s cold hand palmed his forehead. Those claws carded through his scalp.

In a flash, Erivan’s eyes widened to moons, pupils eclipsing all color. His lips slackened as the Empire’s authority flooded through his mind. The gold and red of Persia bled away at the approach of this massive hand penetrating him. Erivan’s eyes squeezed shut, and suddenly the Russian’s hand hit an invisible wall within him. The hand dragged sideways without pause, trying to find an opening, but there was none. The Empire pressed harder, boring into him mentally while their mortal bodies remained transfixed in silence.

“What is this?” the Russian’s voice thrummed with a power that vibrated Erivan’s bones. When he didn’t answer immediately, he felt the seal hum as the Russian spoke again. “Tell me.”

“Armenia,” he wheezed. Within him dwelled a glass orb, and within it slept a fragment of a country, a shell of an empire long destroyed, and now separated between the current world powers. Erivan guarded her, kept her protected within his own body as if she was his own child. “Please… have mercy,” he begged for her life. 

If the autocrat wished, they could absorb every conquered mind into their own and keep them silent by authority alone. Such was the power of an imperial Countryhuman. Erivan’s fortress had been captured and Persia surrendered, panicked by the loss of his finest domain. The seals of each land gained bound their loyalty to their new liege-lord.

A second hand phased out of the darkness to join the other, and together they cupped the glass case with the gentleness of holding a bird’s egg. “You would trade your life... for this? If I gave this remnant your body, you really would die for it...willingly?” the Russian scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes,” Erivan answered without hesitation.

The hands clenched, taken aback by his quick response. “Speak the truth.” The Russian’s words vibrated violently.

“I would die for her.” 

They were silent for a time, seemingly to think, leaving Erivan floating in limbo until finally those hands uncurled from around the fragment. “... I understand.” Erivan couldn’t see it, but he could hear the Empire’s smirk. “Now I know I have made the right decision.” 

Erivan wondered what that meant. What plans did the empire have for their newly annexed khanates? 

"This entire region will be reorganized according to my vision. I will see to Armenia's investiture. You will come with me." 

The Empire's claws closed around the sphere. A great stone of sleepiness dropped on Erivan's chest, and he fought the urge to succumb. 

"What… what are you going to do to her?" he demanded.

"She will become part of my empire. The other khanates disappointed me; she will replace them," the Empire replied, sounding almost indulgent. 

Erivan knew this was an honor, all things considered. He just had to trust that Russia wasn't lying. Unlike the Empire, he could not use a geas to enforce their truthfulness. He was at a complete disadvantage.

"If I go with you, I must have a way to keep in contact with her. She must be safe," he said.

"I will arrange it thus. This is the last time you make demands of me, Erivan. Surrender."

Erivan's eyes rolled unwillingly into his head, and he seemed to fall down an endless mineshaft, groping helplessly for the glass ball held higher above him in tricolored hands. Outside their battle of wills, Russia stood fixed before him as light beamed out from between their fingers. Blue coated the unconscious man's former flag as the empire forced his face and colors to change, to annex him wholly. Russia's golden eyes became bloodshot with the effort of transfiguring this willful man, and they squinted as the light pouring out turned unbearably bright. 

It seemed like an hour passed when the Empire finally yanked their hand away and barely kept from staggering backward. They straightened their spine, primly slicking back the sides of their head. In their right palm rested an opaque milky glass. Erivan, unsupported, toppled to the side, all traces of the Persian coat of arms removed from him and replaced with a Russian cross. 

"Put him on my horse," the Empire ordered.

Two of the closest riders rushed to Erivan's side and picked him up roughly. One shoved his hat back on his head without brushing the snow off him, although they were delicate with the Empire's mount. They strapped the annexed khan to the saddle and fit his feet into the stirrups.

Secreting the sphere away with Erivan's seal, Russia walked slowly to their horse. "I will reside here in this fortress until I have made Persia sign the last treaties. This one is mine to command. Keep him alive and unharmed," the Empire ordered, pointing at Erivan. Sharp teeth bared at the soldiers just before they replaced the eagle helm upon their royal head, and their voice echoed ominously within the enclosed helmet.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" came the loud answer.

ANNEX pt 2

On the day of the first congress session, sweat fell from everyone's brows. It was June, hardly deep into summer, but as it was a meeting of the era's great powers in Europe, everyone was dressed to the nines, in layers of uniforms and gowns.

Prussia led the Congress of Berlin, naturally, with Prinz Matvey at his left and the German Empire at his right. Erivan and the other royal guards marched in perfect time together, but not as well-orchestrated as father and son. Erivan stared at their feathered backs with a faint sense of longing. His eyes tore away from them to flit side to side cautiously. If anyone attempted an assassination, this would be the perfect time with so many Countryhumans in one place. He had to be careful in this place; the castle vibrated with the power of so many supernatural beings concentrated in one spot.

On either side of him, the royal guards winced. Erivan's brows pinched together. He was the first to step through the entryway but he didn't dare pause for the others to get over their uneasiness and catch up. He quickened his pace until he was three paces behind the prince. Matvey and Prussia gave no notice to him, not that he thought they would, of course. A guard was meant to be seen, not heard, meant to do his duties and return immediately.

Decades had passed since the Russian Empire had annexed his land and charged him with orders to go to Europe and be their son's "manservant". In truth, Erivan was much more than that, but he prided himself on being the prince's majordomo first and foremost. Still, he took an interest to Russian affairs as well, especially with the Empire being a great power. Their news was everyone's news. Erivan would be a fool not to take note of it.

He knew now that when the Empire had been fighting his creator, Persia, they had also come to blows with an empire on Persia's other side: the Ottomans. Battles stopped and started. Truces made and broken. The two heads of the eagle had faced enemies all around. This last war resulted in the defeat of the Ottoman Empire. Pride surged through Erivan at his liege's victory. More land and access to the sea meant more wealth, more trade, and more resources. With the Ottomans out of the way, his ward, Russian Armenia, could cross through Georgia and use the Black Sea without tariffs. Most importantly, not being forced to cross the mountains would speed up the process of an Armenian reunion. Erivan looked forward to sitting with his kin, for a Western Armenian delegation had come to the congress with the Ottoman and Balkan representatives.

Per his liegelord's command, Erivan was a retainer in the Prussian household, but politically, he and his neighboring lands belonged to the Russian Empire. Imperial gains had swelled with the Ottomans' defeat. He could feel the other fragments of Armenia calling out to him in distant echoes now that Russia had occupied all of the Black Sea. Erivan clutched his chest through his uniform. It didn't matter that Russia had taken his protected remnant out of him. He heard the others even in his sleep. Now that there were more Armenians within temporary Russian borders, the cries had become louder.

“Tch.”

Prussia’s hiss brought Erivan out of his thoughts. He brought his hand up to his dagger instinctively, but he only saw several other countries at the far end of the hallway approaching the host and his son. Prussia crossed his arms in the middle of the hall. To his left, manservants opened up the double doors to the massive ballroom that would serve as their conference hall. Prussia’s lip curled at the sight of the Russian Empire at the head of the pack. The triumphant ruler was resplendent in a black and gold military uniform. A half-cape of white and gold hung off Russia’s left shoulder, reaching the back of their thigh. At their left side strode Great Britain and the newly-formed dual monarchy Austria-Hungary. On their right, Russia listened with great interest to a small country who was clearly having trouble keeping up with the empire’s massive strides.

Russia glanced up at them, and their haughty expression briefly changed to something unrecognizable. Erivan couldn’t study it long enough to find out. He bowed his head, hearing feathers rustle and whip the air in front of him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A wave of overwhelming malice choked the hallway, and Erivan chanced an upward glance, peering past Matvey and Prussia’s curtain of wings. He glimpsed Russia’s boots turning sharply and disappearing in a flurry with all of the other countries around them.

“I already regret inviting this lot into my house,” Prussia snarled. “Come, Matvey, let’s get this over with.”

Erivan straightened as his master moved silently after his father. As they passed through the double doors together, he pivoted on his heel, keeping his back to the doors and his hand upon his dagger hilt. Inside, the powers of Europe would discuss what to do with the post-war state of the Balkans. His duty was to stand guard at Matvey’s side. A minor governorate like him couldn’t expect to be a part of the negotiating table. If this was in St. Petersburg, perhaps. Only if Russia was feeling indulgent.

So, he waited. He pulled out some straw tucked inside his pockets and idled his hands by weaving the cords together. Occasionally he glanced down the hallway, checking every footfall, every movement out of the corner of his eye. He heard the clocks chime every half-hour. The tall one in the hallway was hard-carved. At every hour, a miniature figurine of Prussia goose-stepped out of a tiny door on a rotating disc. A musical box version of Preußens Gloria chimed until the soldier vanished behind the closing door.

Five Prussian marches later, the door groaned open, and Erivan jerked around to look face-to-face with a skinny waif of a Countryhuman. She looked up at him startled, pulling her veil over the white crescent-shaped scar around her eye. Her eyes were wet, but she looked as if she was crying in frustration not sadness. Erivan held his closed fist over his heart as he respectfully bowed backward out of her way. She sniffled and grabbed the front of her skirts, running away from him.

“W-wait!” he called, reaching out.

Stunned, Erivan glanced inside the luxurious room she’d just left. Disturbingly, the Ottoman Empire stared at him through the slowly closing gap. The Turk bared his teeth in a smile just as the door clicked shut.

The empire’s smile dunked him in cold water and left him frozen in place. Erivan pressed his lips together, shaking off his aura of utter malignance, and ran down the hall after the woman. He knew he shouldn’t leave his post--Prussia could have him shot--but he was certain that she was Armenia. A fragment, anyway, just like the little lady he wrote letters to back home. Their flags were different, obviously, but there was no denying the fragment’s pull. They all wanted to unite and form an Armenia together.

“Wait! Armenia?” he called out again, following the lure that connected him, as their protector, to all the remnants. He spoke in Russian at first, then changed to their mutual tongue. “Armenia, please. You can trust me.”

Erivan stopped at the corner of the castle where a spiral staircase wound up a tower. He hesitated at the bottom step, staring up into the dimly lit hallway. He didn’t want to scare her or chase her if she didn’t want to be chased. Slowly, he walked up the tight spiral until he finally came across her hugging her knees, face buried. She pulled her veil down so that he could not see her face as she lifted her head off her knees.

“You don’t look like one of us, dressed like that.” Her bony fingers flapped up down at his German uniform. “But you speak it so well. What are you doing here?”

“At Imperial Russia’s command, I serve the tsarevich in Berlin.”

“Him?! Doesn’t he frighten you?”

“I have a healthy respect for his capabilities,” Erivan said, his eyes flitting away from her face briefly. He knelt down to one knee and held out his hand. “Why did you leave?”

Western Armenia bit her lower lip and jerked away from his gaze, staring at the porthole window where a tiny beam of light shone on her red skin. “They… they’re not letting Russia have us!” she choked out. She burst into sobs, gripping the sides of her tricolored veil and pulling it over her eyes. “I hate it. Russia demanded us in the treaty. We could have had ri-rights and freedoms, but no, that goddamned Great Britain!” She made the sign of the evil eye and seemed ready to spit, but thought better in Erivan’s presence, seeing his eyes widen at her vehemence. “May all his colonies mine dust! He spoke up against it because Imperial Russia was gaining too much territory!”

“But that is the empire’s prerogative! They won the war,” Erivan replied incredulously. Was Great Britain allied with the Ottomans, trying to leverage their loss of land into a break-even situation?

“And then that father of your princeling agreed with him, but I could tell it had nothing to do with us,” she snarled. “He didn’t even let us speak on our own behalf. He glared at the Russian Empire the entire time they were discussing land concessions and control over the Black Sea. All they cared about was keeping Russia back. Nobody cared about what the Ottomans had done, not even when Bulgaria was sitting right next to me bandaged up.” She cupped her hands in her face. “Nothing’s going to change. I’ll never be with the others…”

Erivan touched his knuckles to hers. “This is only the first day of negotiations. The Empire will not take such hobbling terms without argument. They could be doing so right now,” he consoled her.

“You don’t understand.  I live in a nightmare everyday with him. We’re censored. We’re monitored. We disappear. I thought they would take things seriously after they saw the wounds… We mean nothing to those colonizers, uncle. ” Armenia clutched Erivan’s hand with both of hers and her orange eyes met his. “We will meet the same fate as Bulgaria, locked inside a burning schoolhouse and left to die.”

Erivan’s eyes focused rigidly on the mortar lines in the wall. Every excruciating detail stood out: the gray ridges of the stone, the fine cracks, the faint claw marks. His pupils shrank to pinpoints. He stood there, shoulders shaking, but he stayed quiet. The weight of his grief sewed his lips together. When he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to register the atrocities he’d just heard, he saw Russian Armenia in flames, churning in an abyss of red.

“I will plead on your behalf. I’m sorry I don’t have the power to annex you myself,” he murmured.

Western Armenia pressed her forehead against his hand. “Bless you. Bless you,” she whispered.

“Did I not say that language is not permitted to be spoken?” an icy voice of malice echoed up the staircase. A shadow stretched ominously up the steps. Looking down over his shoulder, Erivan saw a blood-red hand splay on the stone. Whipping around, he spread his arms the width of the staircase. The Ottoman Empire mounted the steps with deliberate slowness, his smile cutting a second crescent into his face.

“T'urk'ahayastan,” he said in a sing-song voice, and Armenia shuddered against Erivan’s back. “I asked you a question. Answer it.” Erivan could not feel the compulsion, but he knew the geas over the small territory was being called upon.

Armenia stiffened as if dead, and her lips barely moved as she choked out, “You-You said it.”

“Your fate is being decided upon in the congress and you’re here? Go back!” Erivan growled.

“A little khanate like you thinks to roar at me? I defeated the Sassanid Persia before, and I won’t hesitate to do it again,” Ottoman Empire hissed through thin lips. He ran a forked tongue across his teeth, sneering even as he craned his head up at Erivan. The tension between them vibrated the air; they stared at each other for several seconds and suddenly daggers echoed loudly in the stairwell as metal clashed in between the two.

Armenia screamed, “Go to hell!” Crouching, she tried to duck low and crawl between their legs to escape. She kicked off the stairs, and the Ottoman Empire’s eyes flashed like an eagle’s. Erivan saw the empire’s shadow leap the full length of the staircase. Without warning, a second figure ascended from the floor and loomed over her, curling his green fingers. The Ottoman Empire he fought seemed to shrink a little but not his focus. Fiercely, he stomped on the hem of Armenia’s dress while his eyes bored into Erivan’s.

Erivan pressed the attack, smashing Ottoman’s dagger to the left against the wall. His foe dragged the edge of his weapon down the stone and then stabbed forward. Erivan narrowly parried. The two traded blows with their daggers, the sound of steel rattling through the whole stairwell.

Armenia reached back and forcefully tore her gown away from under the Ottoman’s heel. The doppleganger with the green crescent and star grabbed her shoulders. “I won’t go quietly, you goat!” she yelled, swinging her head forward into his forehead. She reeled at the collision against his skull, but retained enough breadth of mind to kick him away.

“Get the tsarevich! Now!” Erivan yelled in Armenian.

The red Ottoman twisted to yank her back, but his fingers swished through air. He snarled, “What blasphemous power did you give to that witch?” Despite his anger at Armenia, the Ottoman Empire maintained a cool high-speed pace, blows flying against Erivan’s assault. The green Ottoman leapt after the scrambling Armenia. “Useless fool! Get back here!” the red spat at his double. The instant the shadow joined the original, Ottoman’s hand swung out to clutch Erivan by the throat.

Erivan’s eyes widened. Quickly, he stabbed sideways, trying to pierce the offending wrist, but the Ottoman, no longer split, knocked his weapon away. The dagger clanged loudly on the stone step. In that moment of sudden fury, the empire abandoned his knife too and took Erivan by the throat with both hands. Erivan clutched Ottoman’s forearms, but before he could kick the empire in the stomach, Ottoman bashed the back of his head against the stone. All the lights went out. Erivan’s head lolled with a groan. Ottoman hit him again for good measure, holding him tightly to the wall.

“You filthy infidel. You thought you could beat me, an empire? How dare you approach my property and speak illicitly. You incite a rebellion and think I wouldn’t notice?” the Ottoman spoke unctuously against Erivan’s ear, keeping him upright despite his body slumping and slipping against blood trickling down the wall. The Ottoman’s rough thumbs pressed hard against his carotid artery and sensuously dragged the nails up to Erivan’s chin. “One man will not be missed,” the brute whispered. “One less of your kind in the world. You’ll lead me right to Russia’s pet if I annex you here and now.”

The Ottoman’s palm pressed flat against Erivan’s brow. Pain lanced through his forehead, knocking him out of his semi-conscious state with a sharp gasp. No! Nooo! Erivan’s limbs convulsed under the mental assault. Instead of the calm, self-assured manner in which the Russian Empire had annexed him, the Ottoman’s attempts were pure brute force.

“You… will… never… find… them…,” Erivan croaked.

“I will, eventually. I root out every rat from the shingles and floorboards. Beg, little rat, beg for your life,” Ottoman purred.

Erivan’s eyes rolled back into his head. Red bled from the Ottoman’s hand down Erivan’s face and chin, spilling over the cross and stones of his flag like spilled paint. It gathered along his long eyelashes and streamed down his cheeks like tears. It burned like acid, eating away not only at his face but his identity. He steeled himself with makeshift mental walls, trying to hide his memories and his language before the Turk drilled too deeply. Within the black void, he threw up his arms and built a glass sphere brick by brick, outpacing the long-armed red hand extending to his inner self. Without the seal in Russia’s possession, Ottoman could not compel him to yield, but the pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Erivan grasped his heritage tightly and wildly pulled every memory deeper, behind doors and curtains and orbs. He pushed all knowledge of his Armenia into the recesses of his mind. With trembling fingers,  he pressed his attachments to Prince Matvey hard against his chest, lest the Ottoman use the memory against him somehow.

Before I fail in my duty, know that… know that I have loved… and my love is my revenge...

Erivan pulled the emotions welling from within and forced them against the walls of his glass sphere. Golden light shot up and down from his fingertips, and blue spilled and arced in every direction. Upon his face, the two colors formed stitches over the intrusive red, covering up where the Ottoman had besmirched.

“No!” the empire snarled. “Give it to me!”

Enraged, Ottoman threw Erivan to the ground where he crumpled down the staircase, his eyes lifeless and dull like cloudy amber. Ottoman stalked after him and straddled him at the foot of the stairs, fingers digging into his coat. He hauled Erivan’s dead weight with greedy hands.

“If I can’t have you, no one c--” A violent choking sound cut off the threat.

A set of black claws clapped firmly onto the top of Ottoman’s head. Blearily, Erivan stared past his attacker to the pitch-black creature looming tall as a tree. Its eye was a white boiling sun burning in an abyss of shadow. Erivan’s head spun, and his gaze refused to focus. Wings, maybe a pair or perhaps six, stretched ominously in all directions. The golden speckles and tinge on them seemed like eyes, all of them pointed down at the sinner bent over him.

“Deliver me from evil, O Lord,” Erivan whispered. His hand tremblingly lifted toward the divine creature, and suddenly he felt hot liquid spurt onto his fingers.

The angel with its thousand-and-one eyes and multitude of wings dug into the devil’s skull and tore backward as one would open a tin can of sardines. The red Ottoman spilled forward while the green double was peeled from his back and thrown aside. Ferocity incarnate stepped over the doppelganger sacrificed to save the original. Ottoman scrambled over Erivan’s body, kicking wildly in an attempt to run. With a hand as quick as a snake bite, those claws wrapped around Ottoman’s ankle and slammed him to the beautiful floor.

"In my own house… you dare steal from me…" A deadly deep voice resonated from behind the creature's bared fangs.

Military boots squeaked on the bloodied tile beside Erivan. His half-lidded eyes glimpsed sheepskin and bootlaces dripping blood, but the boots did not hesitate long beside him. They marched in slow excruciating precision into another room, the Ottoman being dragged behind him, breaking fingernails in his attempt to claw the doorframe and floor to kick away.

“Oh… Osmanen…,” the voice uttered, cold as the Baltic.

“I’ll tell them all you attacked me in cold blood!” the Ottoman hissed. “Unhand me!”

A guttural laugh. "No."

Ottoman's bloodshot eyes widened; he seemed to realize he was waist-deep in a riptide and being swept out to sea. "You! You would sacrifice your father’s advantages at the negotiating table for one piece of filth?!" he protested.

"FILTH?" With an eagle's scream of fury, a table with an expensive Peking vase was upended. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, and Ottoman was dragged through it, further into the room, which had become more of a monster's lair in that instant than a parlor. "Filth like you dares to lecture me? You should be groveling at my feet!" He briefly let the Ottoman go just to leap the distance between them and land hard on his back. His boots and all his weight crashed on Ottoman's spine. The empire choked on blood which forced itself from his throat.

“You have no power inside this house,” whispered the angel of death. "When I have scraped the last piece of red off your face…."

The door slammed shut mid-scream, and there was a loud thump within, followed by the mad pounding of hands and muffled pleas.

Wincing, Erivan reached out around him, grabbing for the wall or anything to stabilize himself. His hand planted firmly in the twitching green-skinned shade on the ground. He recoiled in horror. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus, Erivan managed to wipe his hand on the gurgling Ottoman double's clothes. It was probably wishing it were dead. He crawled slowly away from it, back toward that awful staircase, and there he recovered his dagger. The Ottoman's weapon was also there but he left it where it was.

Erivan climbed to his feet, stumbling, dizzy from the blows he'd taken. Blood dribbled over his lips. His attempts at feeling rage just made his head spin. He slumped backward, palms flat against the wall as he tried to keep himself from falling.

Ahead, the long fanciful hallway swarmed with noise and multi-colored figures running toward him and the bloodied green Ottoman on the floor. It was all a blur. Then, he heard Prussia's thunderous voice quaking him. "What the hell is this?"

Erivan wet his lips as he tried to find the words to speak. "Annexed… us…," he managed, gesturing to the twitching doppelganger on the floor.

"Move!" the Russian Empire commanded everyone out of their way, and stomped past Prussia to approach their beaten khanate. "He lost our war and tries this?" The empire tried to keep their voice from trembling in rage but failed.

Erivan felt that strong palm cup his head and warmth poured through him. He let out a long ragged breath as the pain ebbed away.

"Annexing? In my own fucking house?!" Prussia erupted. A faint smile tilted Erivan's lips at how alike father and son were. "Where is he?" Prussia made a ripping gesture with his clenched claws.

The yells and crashing answered the king. Erivan, Russia, and Prussia all moved simultaneously toward the door. Despite being sluggish, Erivan got to the door before the two emperors, who had paused to glare at each other, neither one willing to yield a step before the other.

"Your Highness! Your parents have arrived," Erivan croaked behind the door.

Silence suddenly prevailed. The door cracked open slowly, and a shadow blockaded the gap. Erivan's eyes softened. "Your hair's come undone, my lord, and your hands are a mess," he gently chastised the prince. He reached up to smooth Matvey's hair back into place, which felt very much like petting a griffin that could turn aside and rip him asunder at any second.

"You're still alive…," the prince rasped.

"Thanks to you."

Lines slowly left the prince's face. Carefully, Erivan adjusted his large eyepatch, wiping away sweat and hair from under the black fabric. The door opened the rest of the way with a bloody handprint on the knob. Matvey loomed out of the frame as Erivan backed away in a bow to make way for his master. Prussia's eyes widened briefly before narrowing in a smirk. Russia looked livid as a bear, both at their cub's safety as well as the once-defeated threat that now laid on the floor in a pool of blood and ruined furniture.

"Someone remove him," Russia ordered, pointing imperiously at the two Ottomans.

"This. Is. My. House," Prussia bit through each word, incensed that the Russian Empire was giving the orders that had been on his very tongue.

Matvey grimaced at the two of them and pivoted away from this corner of the castle. Erivan glanced back at the crowd gathering around the corridor and stairs. He saw Armenia standing there looking at him, and the two placed their hands over their hearts. If she hadn't fought off the Ottoman's double and gone for Matvey, Erivan was sure he'd be worse off right now, perhaps even a Turkish puppet. He bowed his head gratefully.

"Come, Erivan," Matvey ordered, waiting three paces ahead.

Erivan hurried after him quickly. As he reached Matvey's right side, one of the prince's wings spread behind him, mostly shielding him from view. Matvey said nothing, but then again, nothing needed to be said. He sighed at the mess on his prince's face, claws, and boots. All of that… for him. The prince had risked it all for him. Erivan had no idea what political consequences this event would hold, but he could only hope the truth would reign.

ANNEX pt 3.

The prince shepherded him through the castle, up winding steps and through halls and doors Erivan had never seen before. He had never been to this wing, although he knew they were in the eastern tower. Matvey had him carry an enamel washbowl and jug all the way to the top. The prince fished an old brass key from around his neck and turned it with a groaning clank from the mechanism. The door was heavy oak and bore no decorations.

To his surprise, the prince silently motioned him in first, indicating the table for the washbowl. The heavy door creaked shut with a force that blew dust along the ground.

"Where are we?" Erivan asked, gazing around the large circular room. Sheets covered the furniture and portrait frames stacked carefully on one half of the room, tucked away in storage. By the tall window, however, stood a bookshelf, desk, and chair. A couch was at the window's left side. None of these were as dusty as the floor.

"It's a second study. Father taught me how to fly from that window," Matvey remarked.

"That sounds… paternal," Erivan replied with uncertainty.

"He walked on me gazing at Russia's full-length portrait." The prince tilted his head at the largest of the covered frames.

"Sounds like your father…"

Matvey loomed over Erivan's shoulder and studied his blue skin where it purpled from the bruises and aftermath of it all. He reached over and grabbed Erivan's chin, forcing him to face the prince.

"Tell me how he did this to you," Matvey growled with barely restrained rage.

Erivan caught a glimpse of raw concern behind the cracked mask of composure. "Western Armenia told me what Ottoman did to Bulgaria in the war. He overheard us using our language in the stairwell. Then… he attacked me, because I put myself between them."

"What were you thinking?" Matvey snapped.

The cinders in Erivan's eyes hit flashpoint. Bright gold engulfed his slit pupils, and he wheeled on Matvey. "Armenia means everything to me," Erivan bit back. "Before the war, a fragment was all I had, sleeping inside me." He pounded his chest. He stood his ground even as Matvey's wings began to swell on either side of him. "We will never be whole until all of the ancestral lands are returned. You, of all people, should know the depths of what I'll do to protect someone I love!" Erivan blurted out. Against his better judgment, he pointed in the prince's face. The finger curled back as he realized what he'd said and saw the furious lines on Matvey's face where blood was already drying. God, the Ottoman's attack had really rid him of his usual restraint, hadn't it?

Matvey snatched his wrist vehemently. The force staggered Erivan against the bookshelf. With his teeth two inches from Erivan's face, the prince snarled, "So you went derelict in your duties to chase after a remnant out of our jurisdiction?"

"I did." Erivan met his eye without flinching. "Execute me here and now for disobedience, sir." He tilted his head, baring his throat to those fangs.

Matvey's pupil shrank at the purplish-black handprints around Erivan's throat. "Save your reckless shit!" The prince lunged at the junction of Erivan's jaw and ear. He sank his teeth into skin, and his retainer jolted, gasping sharply and exhaling his name. The smell of blood made his thoughts swim. Erivan trembled in Matvey's clutches. "There. I've punished you," the prince snapped.

The pressure left Erivan's neck, and he cracked open his eyes to peer up at his master. He licked his tongue and watched Matvey's lips wistfully as the prince pulled away from the bite. Matvey caught his glance, and the two hesitated only for a second before crashing their lips together. Immediately, their pace became frantic, warm and metallic tongues seeking each other as their mouths opened. They groaned and growled into their mouths. Erivan nearly dared to cup Matvey's cheeks in his hands but thought better of it, digging his fingers into the prince's uniform instead.

Like a wild man, Matvey flung aside everything upon his desk and pushed Erivan down onto it, nipping his lips, pressing him down under the force of his kisses. He did not waste time with words. He crowded over Erivan possessively, claiming him tooth and nail. Erivan reached up, but before he could hold onto anything, Matvey pinned his wrists hard to the wood, growling against his mouth.

"You're mine! Don't you ever stray from me again."

Erivan's stomach leapt up to his chest at the barely-contained fury, hurt, and fear in Matvey's voice. "You have me, every piece. I was always yours. I was annexed to be yours. I follow your commands, my lord but I was created to protect those lands. Please…" He tried not to cry out or whimper in longing, but he felt the wave coming to shore, how Matvey would soon break over him and drag every grain of him back out to sea. The weight of him pulled a soft groan from Erivan's lips. "Please… forgive me for this conflict in my heart, Your Highness."

This encounter with Ottoman would not be the only one. There may very well come a time when Erivan would fail in his duties again. But they thought nothing of that now, not when Matvey bit his neck again and made his hips grind against the prince's thigh in lust. He struggled against his pinned wrists to meet him, drinking him in despite his bitten lips. Finally the prince let him go. Erivan surged against his chest the same way he met him in combat. He kissed his chin, his jaw, his heated black and white skin and every constellation of gold. The bloodrush made his head throb, yet he couldn't let Matvey go. Each kiss dragged him underwater, numbing his pain, making it hard for him to come up for air. Each fevered kiss was a claim on him in revenge for what Ottoman had done.

Heaving a breathy snarl, Matvey pulled off him, both of them panting heavily and gazing heatedly at each other. Erivan jerked his chin in the direction of the washbowl Matvey had made him carry up there in the first place.

"May I wash the taint off you?" Erivan asked reverently.

Matvey took a deep breath and pushed strands of hair back into place. "Yes," he said, finally calm again, and he allowed Erivan off the desk. With a sigh, he threw himself into the chair and held out his hands, waiting.

Erivan took the jug out of the ceramic washbasin first, setting everything on the desk prim and proper as befitting a prince's valet. With an unfurling snap of the handtowel, he folded it to use it better and dipped it into the jug of water. He turned toward Matvey and wiped his face slowly, meeting his gaze the entire time and finally, that trademark smirk began to split the prince's lips.

"You know, I was busy trying to keep conscious when you appeared. I thought I was hallucinating." Erivan leaned into Matvey's right ear, whispering rough gravel on his blind side, "A god descended and smote the devil. Let me worship you." He stroked the towel across the dried blood splatter. Kneeling before that hungry eye, Erivan placed both of Matvey's hands into the basin. He poured water over them, watching it turn rusty as he scrubbed the skin and under the sharp claws. While he knelt, he saw the absolute state of Matvey's boots, bloodstained and now dusty.

"I don't know if these can be salvaged. I still have your measurements from last time so I will make you a new pair," he reassured.

"No. Remeasure me. I will not tolerate an improper fit."

"Of course, sir." Erivan switched the hand towel around so that the dry side faced forward, and he wiped off his master's hands. "Perfect."

"Dump that mess out of the window before it stinks."

Pulling up the pane required more strength than Erivan expected. He yanked it until it screeched and sputtered through layers of dust, sending motes everywhere. Quickly he tossed the contents outside and forced the window back down again.

"If I may ask, my lord, why did we come up here?"

"We needed to be in the room furthest from the epicenter. You saw how my parents were acting," Matvey tsked. "Father has the only other key to this room but he won't go in here. Too many memories covered up." He waved dismissively at the sheets. "Besides, if I so much as smell that Ottoman's breath, I am liable to actually kill him this time." An icy eye fixed on Erivan. "Especially after he put his hands on what's mine."

Erivan sucked in a deep breath through his nose, closing golden eyes to keep from showing Matvey how much restraint it took not to get into the chair with him. He bowed his head, golden curls tumbling past his cheeks.

Matvey inhaled sharply and stood up, the chair scraping backward on the floor. "You need to be seen by a physician now."

Erivan tapped at his face and patted his sides for any stab wounds. "Am I bleeding somewhere?"

"The back of your head. Come on."

Matvey grabbed the front of Erivan's uniform remorselessly. Without any effort, the prince hauled him at the knees and lower back, flying off with him through the palace corridors and halls. The main routes were, of course, wide enough to accommodate their winged masters. Erivan stared wide-eyed, clinging helplessly to his shirt collar.

"At least you have the good sense not to scream," Matvey smirked. "Father told me Russia wailed the first time they were on the wing together."

"It takes a lot more than this to get me to scream," Erivan told him.

"Oh, I know." Matvey's lip curled knowingly, letting out a mischievous chuckle as he whisked his retainer away to be properly cared for.

#meta #countryhumans #countryhumans oc #erivan #matvey #matveri #writings #countryhumans russian empire #countryhumans prussia #countryhumans armenia #countryhumans ottoman empire

[rivetrashrine]

“Mercy” - Rivetra Oneshot

As the Survey Corps. near the walls for a safe return home, the expedition takes an unexpected turn for the worse. After being protected by Captain Levi, Petra finds her self stranded and without ODM gear. 

So this is an excerpt from a Rivetra long fic called “Disbanded” that still needs A LOT of work. Since I honestly don't know if it will ever come to fruition, I thought I would at least share this particular chapter which works quite well as a oneshot. ~ Mitsuki 😊 

Mercy

The sun hung brightly in the sky at noon as the Survey Corps. trotted from their resupply unit back to the walls as planned. Combat ensued with ten titans within the early hours of their expedition, which was certainly not ideal, but not detrimental either. It felt like another "routine" expedition. No abnormals were spotted. Nothing particularly useful about the titans was learned from this journey. The casualty toll was about 30% per usual. It was a horrifying number, but it was the gruesome norm.

Petra glanced to the right, catching a glimpse of Captain Levi. It was dangerous to let your guard down for even a second, but she couldn't resist the chance to admire his appearance. Everything seemed brighter and clearer beyond the walls, whether psychologically or physically, the soldiers all seemed to be in agreement. The direct sunlight revealed the dimension of Levi's hair. His undercut came across as a smoky black while the longer strands atop his head appeared as black as a crow's feathers with hints of blue-black framing his face. His stern, deep blue eyes glistened like tanzanite gems.

"Do you see something, Petra?" Levi questioned.

"Oh, uh—no sir." She moved her gaze back to its proper stance, thinking to herself, "Sorry Captain, that's a bit of a white lie... I see a very handsome man who I respect and admire deeply. What would you say to that?"

Oluo let out an arrogant yawn. "It looks like I didn't get to add anything to my kill count this time."

"Hey, don't say that shit! Are you trying to jinx us?" Eld said with hostility.

"Ah, calm down, ok? I'm glad we didn't have to deal with them. I was just joking."

Petra glanced over at Levi once more, completely ignoring the conversation of her squadmates.

"Captain?"

"What is it, Petra?"

"You look uneasy. Are you alright?"

Levi had felt a sense of impending doom all day. His gut instincts rarely steered him wrong, but it seemed irrational to think this way after such a smooth-sailing expedition.

"I'm fine. It's just too bright out today." The truth didn't seem worth mentioning at this point, the walls were already in sight.

Mike turned his nose to the right and gave the air a whiff.

"There's a storm coming on... and at least one titan heading this way." He sniffed once more. "No— three titans at three o'clock."

"Really? It's hard to believe with this clear sky, but you're never wrong," Nanaba replied.

"We'll increase our speed at the first drop of rain or titan sighting, but we aren't too far now," Erwin commented.

Surely enough, in the blink of an eye, a hellish uproar of thunder deafened the soldiers. The sky swelled with darkness and Levi’s stomach tightened.

"All units full speed ahead towards the walls! Avoid combat and focus on your own survival!" Erwin shouted.

The Survey Corps. typically sighted about 30 titans during each journey, most of which could be evaded by changing the formation's course. On an average expedition, the scouts were left with no choice but to engage combat with roughly seven to ten titans. Whether their destination was the wall or one of their bases, the use of signal flares indicating directional change and titan sightings was always the key to survival, and unfortunately this put them at Mother Nature's mercy.

Rain battered down on their wings of freedom as the Survey Corps. pushed forward. Captain Levi squinted in the nearly blinding downpour to see if his squad was still behind him. A thick cloud of fog rolled in and blanketed their flank, completely obscuring the view of any distant solider. Who would have guessed the temperamental July weather would be such a devastating hindrance, and at the last minute?

The captain was aware that at least 21 titans, in addition to the ten killed, were spotted since leaving their resupply point. He always meticulously kept a mental note of how many changes the formation made in it’s direction, and which paths they took to avoid the titans. A cloud of darkness loomed above the team as flashes of lightning granted brief moments of visibility to search for nearby titans. A barrage of hail stung their faces and shoulders like angry hornets during the scouts' desperate journey toward the walls. The mud beneath them further hindered their movements.

"Ah!" Petra’s horse lost it's footing in a puddle and toppled over onto the rain-soaked ground. She flew forward, just a few meters in front of her steed. Oluo exclaimed "Petra!" As her spooked horse regained footing and carried on in her direction, Petra was moments away from being trampled. 

"Continue forward, no matter what comes our way!" Captain Levi ordered while darting towards Petra on his own horse. Petra cried out "AAAH!!" as she began to roll out of her horse’s way. She heard a sharp SNAP as she felt hooves stomp down on the body of her vertical maneuvering gear and watched in horror as the leather straps that attached it broke away. Levi quickly pulled her from the ground and onto his horse. 

"Are you alright!?" he shouted over the roaring wind as she clung to him. 

Petra looked at Levi with mud smeared across her face and shoulder. 

"Captain, yes! But my horse crushed my gear! My blades are still ok in their holsters!"

Though they were just a few meters behind Eld, Gunther, and Oluo, the eerie fog kept them completely hidden. The trio spotted a 10 meter abnormal, stomping towards the captain and Petra. Oluo looked in a state of panic and yelled "SHIT!" 

"Should we go back and help them?!" asked Gunther. 

"No, the captain said to continue forward!" Eld commanded, gritting his teeth.

"Petra, move to safety!" Levi shouted as he flew off his horse towards the titan, aiming to sever it’s ankle. 

She screamed in horror, "Captain!!" 

Of all the times to be without 3-D mobility, this was the absolute worst. She blindly and tearfully continued forward, leaving her precious captain behind. She believed in his strength, but also couldn't ignore the odds against him. The subtle sound of his blades in the distance began to fade. If he did defeat the titan, she wouldn’t be able to see the steam from his kill. How far away was Captain Levi? How long had she been riding since he started fighting that monstrosity? If she were to make it home alive, could she live with being responsible for her beloved captain’s death? Would he be able to summon her horse and escape? Her anxious thoughts spread through her head like wildfire. 

"This is it," she thought. "This isn’t how I want to die... but I know I have given this world everything I could. I can at least leave this life knowing that I’ve fulfilled my duty... but I wish I could have told you, captain, how special you are to me..." 

She felt the ground shake. "More thunder?"

The faint outline of a titan emerged from the fog. It looked to be just a meter behind her. "Damn it!"

Though sweating and shaking, she prepared her blades for battle in case she couldn't outrun it. She was a soldier. Even if all odds were against her, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Petra rode at full speed changing direction, hoping to get the titan off her trail. The damn thing chased her relentlessly, as if it had a personal vendetta against the young soldier. She gasped as the monster lurched forward from ground level, jaws wide open and crawling on all fours, nearly taking out her and Levi's horse. Its body was frail and child-like for a titan, no more than three meters long; but its speed was deadly. Petra screamed out in rage as she spun around to face the titan. She furiously threw her blades into the eyes of the beast, warranting her 60 seconds to formulate a plan of attack and to finish it off. Quickly, she forced the mechanism to attach a fresh set of blades into place, pinching her fingers in the process. It stung, and blood began to pool under the superficial layer of her skin. She felt her finger throb as she pulled the reigns of Levi's horse until they fell behind the titan, nearly touching it's left side.

"Just a little more," she thought as they drew closer together. She crouched cautiously atop her captain's horse, grasping the reigns for stability. Petra took in the thick, moist air through her nostrils as she jumped over the titan's shoulder, and onto its neck, piercing its nape with her right sword. The titan shrieked as it stood back up from all fours. Petra clung to the handle of her blade for dear life. If she were to let go, she would tumble to the ground and surely be at the titan's mercy once it's eyes regenerated. But if she didn't retract her blade, she'd never be able to kill it. Petra was quick on her feet, but she rarely had to engage a titan on her own, let alone without ODM gear! She realized the anatomy of the titan's short, stubby arms prevented it from being able to reach her. But the titan soon fell back down onto all fours and bucked like an angry bull. She grasped a lock of its hair and managed to pull her blade out, creating a six inch lesion in the titan's nape. As she noticed the decreasing amount of steam emanating from the titan's face, she knew she was nearly out of time. Life and death were just moments apart from one another.

"I hope this works." She flipped a blade upside down before grasping both in hand. She swung back and forth from the lock of hair like a pendulum and timed the peak of her swing with the titan’s upward buck as she let go. She had seen Levi’s signature move so many times, but he always moved too quickly for her to fully decipher exactly what his technique entailed. She spun feverishly and ran both blades across the titan's nape as gravity pulled her back down. 

Petra cried out "Die, die you monster!" hacking away at it’s flesh like a butcher. She ripped away the outer layer of the titan’s skin. A blood-curdling scream of agony exploded from the titan as it struggled to get back up. Blood and bits of flesh flew across the battle field. Petra made sure the bastard stayed trapped on the ground to feel her fury. She took another swing, cutting even further, reaching the devil’s tendons. Strike after strike, she was further strengthened by her rage. The screams of her enemy finally silenced, as she felt metal scrape against bone. The all too familiar smell of dissolving flesh encompassed her. The odor was rancid like rotten eggs. It was something she never quite got used to. The combination of smoke and rain left her eyes puffy and irritated.

She sat on her knees for a moment, breathing heavily and frantically whipping her head back and forth, searching for Levi’s horse. Her exhausted body jogged, tracing the horse’s footprints. Here she had just done the impossible: defeat a titan by blade alone. But that STILL wasn’t enough to keep her from dying. Regardless of this unfortunate circumstance, like a true soldier, Petra collected herself and ran as fast as she could through the muddy, sinking ground. She heard a horse’s neigh in the distance, and continued in that direction.

After just seconds of running, a crack of lightning deafened her as she felt the ground rumble. Was it another titan? The rain let up enough for Petra to see nothing but dozens of tree branches above her. She heard them snap...snap...snap. Petra covered her head with her arms and screamed out in fear.

She suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground, an arm tightly wrapped around her waist and another beneath her knees. Her eyes widened and lit up as they met Captain Levi's face. As he navigated through the barrage of debris at an alarming speed, she tucked in her head and legs, flinching as they passed every obstacle. She grasped the straps around Levi's chest for dear life. Petra and Levi took on enemies together time and time again, but she never realized just how fast he really moved until this moment in his arms. Having seemingly reached the end of the forest with still no horse in sight, Levi latched onto a high branch of a towering and massive tree. Its circumference was at least 15 meters, and its flat, wide branches made it the perfect place to retreat.

"We might be burnt to a crisp up in this wooden lightning rod, but at least we're too high up for the titans to reach us."

Petra shivered and clenched Levi's hand as he slowly let her out of his arms.

Out of breath she said "Captain... Thank you."

She fell to her knees before him, still grasping his hand.

"How did?" She quickly inhaled through her nose, catching the scent of wet foliage and mud, and let out a deep breath through her mouth. "How did you find me?"

"After I finished off that titan, I heard you scream in the distance... I didn't know if I would make it in time." He looked away.

His heart sank and his blood ran cold when he heard her scream. Time and time again, the connections he made with his comrades were severed by the titans' onslaught. No matter how many times it happened or how much time had passed, the pain was always the same.

"I just heard her scream... I didn't even see her. I shouldn't have panicked like I did..."

He always had faith that Petra would prove to be a valuable asset to his special operations squad. Her nature was comforting and reassuring, but she knew how to be assertive when the situation called for it. For someone with such a tiny frame, her combat skills were superb, and she always kept her equipment clean and well-maintained. Most importantly, she showed initiative.

To lose Petra would have been detrimental to his team's dynamics and his daily routines would be sent into disarray. The thought of never having her by his side again was something that really shook him.

Petra shivered with fear and breathed heavily, unable to respond for a few seconds before she let go of his hand.

"Captain, why? Why you didn't you move forward like you told us to!?" 

Levi too caught his breath as she spoke.

Her eyes watered up as she said "You could have made it if you didn't come back for me." She closed her eyes with grief.

"Petra, there was nothing you could have done differently... I was well aware of the risks involved in going back for you, and that you might not even be alive when, or if, I did find you," Levi assured her.

Petra quivered as she opened her eyes, "But captain, I still don't understand! Why you would do that!?"

"... I couldn't abandon you, Petra... I'm not as heartless as you think."

She paused for a moment to reflect on his statement. "Not as heartless as I think!? What gave him that impression? We're conditioned to completely shut out emotions on the battlefield!"

"But we— do you see any way we can make it out of this alive? I just can’t believe I’ve caused all this trouble. I'm so sorry!" she cried.

He furrowed his brows with a pained look on his face, feeling the gaze of her teary eyes. Petra had to abandon all of her gear, and Levi had a minimal amount of gas left. On the off chance that there were any horses nearby, they would surely be spooked by the deafening thunder and crashing trees. As instructed, every soldier continued towards the wall to peruse a slim chance of return to civilization. Turning back to look for survivors would be suicide.

"Survival is never a guarantee, Petra." It was not what he would have preferred to say, but it was the truth.

Petra felt every drop of rain pelt her face. She sunk further down, as she began to cry softly with her back against the tree.

"Oi, that doesn’t mean we’re giving up."

The sound of snapping tree branches and thunder continued.

"I’m sorry..." she continued to weep. "Could I tell you something, captain?"

Petra ruminated, "If this is really it, I don't want to die without him knowing how I feel."

He looked down at her. "...what is it?"

"I-I just want thank you... Thank you for always believing in me, thank for allowing me to fight by your side." She smiled and took a moment to admire his sapphire eyes. "Thank you for all that you’ve done, captain... It's been an honor to serve you." She paused as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm glad to have had a captain who I could trust with all of my heart, one who I knew would always make the choices that would best benefit humanity. Even if it meant sacrificing my life, I would gladly do so to follow your commands... I hope you won't think it's selfish, but even after all you've done for me, there is one last thing I'd like to ask of you."

He bent down on his knee and looked her in the eyes with uncertainty.

The overwhelming affection in Petra's eyes and voice alone were enough to surprise Levi, but he was especially taken aback by her words. Compassion wasn’t his strong suit to say the least. Yet, when it came to the well-being of his comrades, somehow that scathing, potty-mouthed misanthrope held his tongue and humanity’s strongest warrior emerged. He uttered words of comfort to hundreds of soldiers at their wit's end.

"Petra..." His eyes softened. "I’m glad you were here to fight beside and for your dedication." His voice was tender as he said "I’m grateful for that..." and so much more that he could articulate. Afternoon tea together, her care for his wounds, the admiration for him that she expressed, all of it made him feel wanted and valued as a human being. She not only accepted his flaws, she appreciated them. She saw the deep concern he had for his fellow soldiers and knew a kind man resided beneath that harsh exterior. For this, Levi actually liked spending time with her and wanted to do so often.

"What is it that you want me to do?"

With a tear-stained face she responded "Thank you, captain!" She took in a deep breath. "Could you please... if you wouldn’t mind... please let me kiss you!"

She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. 

"Can you forgive me for asking this? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to feel this way about you."

His arms hovered over her as he took a moment to fully process the request she made: affection, intimacy, romance... Why now?

"Petra, that’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it." He pushed her away and looked her in the eyes. "But is kissing me really going to make this situation any better?"

"Just once, I hoped I could, captain. I know it's a stupid thing to wish for. I apologize."

"So, you just want to have your first kiss before you die? That’s what you’re saying?"

Petra let out a soft giggle and replied "No captain, it wouldn't be my very first kiss... just ours."

"Ok, so you already know what it’s like to kiss somebody. You don’t need to do that with me."

"What a strange thing to want do at the brink of death," he thought to himself.

Petra thought back to the one and only boy she had kissed, the boy who left her with a bittersweet memory. She imagined his full, tender lips against hers, the stubble on his chiseled jaw against her hands, and her body feeling protected by his towering frame. She thought of the way his lips always slipped down to her neck and the way his hands wandered down to her thighs. Just the thought of that boy's lips caressing hers still made the back of her head tingle, but whenever she really thought hard about that boy she felt disgusted.

Petra sat up and looked at Levi. "Captain, that’s not how it works at all. You’re a much better person than anyone I've kissed before. My feelings for you... they’re much more intense."

"... I'm covered with blood and dirt, and you really want to kiss me? Here? After you've been rolling around in the mud with titans? While we’re 30 meters in the air?"

"Yes captain, I-I do..." She said meekly. She was completely embarrassed but persistent.

With a skeptical face he asked "Kissing me means that much to you?"

"Yes."

Kissing a subordinate was undoubtedly sexual misconduct. On the other hand, as a captain he was obligated to fulfill a dying soldier's final wish. The situation they were in could certainly qualify as imminent. But, suppose they did miraculously survive this ordeal. Levi usually didn't give a shit about his own needs, but he had to really consider how this act might make him feel. He had never kissed someone before. It wasn't necessarily an unappealing thought, or that he didn't sometimes want to experience it himself, there just never seemed to be the right opportunity, or the right person. If he did kiss her, how might that change their working relationship? He wasn't in love with the girl, but he did find her attractive. He did actually enjoy her company. She was more special to him than he really cared to admit.

After a few moments of silence, he came to his decision: "Fuck it. If this is the last thing I can do to make her happy, I'll do it."

"Alright Petra, if you can promise it won’t interfere with our duty, just this once... Permission granted." Her face turned bright red to the point that he could practically feel her embarrassment.

"O-okay, Captain Levi. Thank you."

She couldn't believe what he just said and suddenly felt hesitant to kiss him now. She gulped as she looked at his soft nude lips. The misty wind blew through their hair and the smell of fresh rain circled around them. She gently wiped away bits of gravel on his cheek. Petra batted her eyes before leaning forward, her lips nearly touching his. She could feel his breath on her upper lip. She closed her eyes and froze for a moment.

Petra put one hand on her captain’s shoulder and the other on his neck. The tactile sensation of his smooth skin against her blistered fingers made her heart beat faster. Levi's hands stayed by his side as he hesitantly closed his up-turned, half-lidded eyes. Their lips collided. In contrast to Petra's kiss, his wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t tender. It was obvious he’d never kissed someone before. But it was Captain Levi's kiss and it didn't matter to her how awkward it was. His lips half-heartedly pressed against hers with no tongue or movement as she tilted her head and puckered her lips. He could tell she was much better at this than him. Petra's loving gaze pierced Levi's eyes as she pulled her head back. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory job. Taking in to consideration how much this meant to Petra, he felt he owed something more to her...

"Hey..."

"Captain?"

He put a thumb beneath her chin. "Lets try that again."

"Yes, captain..." she said under a heavy breath.

Levi put his arms on her shoulders, gently pressing her back into the tree. He felt his heart beat like a drum from the sensation of Petra's wet, supple lips. His lips caressed hers and he followed up with several more passionate kisses. Petra was taken aback by his sudden improvement and felt as though the man she loved was truly hers. She gently pushed him away.

"Thank you, captain... You don't have to keep kissing me." She blushed as she bashfully looked away.

His hand made its way back to her chin as he slid his thumb over her wet lips. Their eyes met.

"Are you saying you want me to stop?"

"Captain, I..." Her eyes closed half-way. "No..."

She closed her eyes completely as a chill ran through her body and her chest felt tight. His kiss paralyzed her for a second as she anxiously exhaled.

Their tongues slipped inside one another’s mouths as their hearts throbbed. Levi felt like he was about to erupt from years of pent-up sexual repression. His hand tightly grasped her hair to hold her head in place. His thumb rested firmly against her jawline as the rest of his hand cupped her cheek. 

Levi furrowed his brows. "Her skin is so soft, even after sweating like a pig. And her hair, how the fuck does it still smell like roses while having visible chunks of mud in it? She should be revolting after all the shit we've been through today."

He ran both of his hands through her hair. "But now that I’ve gotten a taste, it’s like I can’t get enough. Tch, what the hell is this?"

"Captain?"

Levi finished one more kiss before pulling back. "Hmm?"

"C-can I kiss your neck? Your skin is so soft there." She was incredibly anxious, yet every action felt so natural.

He looked at Petra a little bit puzzled before gingerly pressing his lips against her ear as he whispered, "Knock yourself out."

She kissed his cheek as her lips trailed down to his jaw. She carefully pushed his cravat to the side and unbuttoned his shirt until his collarbones were exposed. Levi felt a sweet, gentle peck above his left clavicle and closed his eyes. He jumped as he felt Petra delicately bite and suck on a circle of his skin.

"Oh, sorry. Was that too much?"

"No, it's fine. Keep going."

After a few more seconds, Petra lifted her head. Their lips ravenously rubbed against each other’s. It was like a box of butterflies was released into Petra’s stomach. His body against hers brought about a comforting, blissful sensation. She always felt so complete by his side, like she stood right where she was destined to be.

There was something Levi wanted to try too, but he thought it might be better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Petra felt his hands gently squeezing and fondling her breasts through her rain soaked shirt beneath her jacket. She let out a slight gasp followed by a nearly inaudible moan. Levi felt her nipples against the palms of his hands. Between the rushing wind and cold rain, they were hard as rocks. Petra flinched as he slowly and teasingly rubbed his thumbs over this sensitive area.

"I can't believe captain is touching me like this! Does this mean he's actually attracted to me?"

"What the hell are we doing? Suppose we make it out of this alive, what will she think of me then?"

Though wrestling to keep their consequential thoughts at bay, the two continued like horny teenagers, completely lost in a sexual haze.

Admittedly, Levi had always wondered how this sort of thing felt. Of everyone he knew, it made the most sense for this to happen with Petra. She was someone he deeply trusted and was close to. Her beauty always caught him by surprise and it was sometimes a challenge to accept the fact that he was attracted to her. Yes, his eyes had glanced over a fair share of nice looking individuals, but none of them had peaked his interest.

But the timing of it all— was this the only way it could happen? Even if it was her dying wish, Levi couldn't help but feel remorseful for his inappropriate actions. This afternoon together was a pleasure beyond his imagination, a very guilty pleasure.

At some point during the duration of their make out session, the rain had stopped. Waking up from his trance, Levi stood up abruptly to fire a signal flare. It was a long shot that anyone would be close enough to see the flare, much less to be able to reach them... Even with the situation at hand, he felt light and his tension and worries were somewhat eased. It was strange, and in a way he hated the sense of vulnerability it brought about. As the sun broke through the clouds, Petra looked up at Levi noticing he was aroused by their acts of intimacy. She quickly looked away and blushed, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

With his head still facing towards the walls he questioned her, "What? Should I not have found you stimulating?"

"Oh, n-no. Sorry, I wasn't trying to look."

He sat back down in front of her and takes her hands as they look at one another in a moment of twisted happiness. An awkward silence followed as Levi turned his head back to check for any signals.

From beyond the misty horizon, faint green smoke appeared. Moments later, the rest of Levi Squad galloped towards the couple for rescue.

Levi pulled his hands away and adjusted his cravat. His eyes returned to their usual cold, stern scowl.

"Tch, I told them to keep moving forward... Guess we'll make it back after all."

#rivetra #levi x petra #captain levi #petra ral #levi heichou #levi ackerman #snkfic #my fics #mercy

[madewithonerib]

Christmas with The CHOSEN | Dec 13, 2020

Before this rock world, floating in space, knew the feeling of feet on its surface it knew only 1 thing:

     Darkness, which isn't even a thing..

It's a state of being, it's made of nothing.

It has no scientific definition! Other than the absence of visibility

   It's a void, something you feel but not touch.    Something you can sense but not see.

In the beginning, darkness was over the face of the deep.

A blank canvas, unto which GOD could paint whatever HE wanted.

HE could have made anything, created anything. Spoke anything into being..& HE chose to begin with light.

Which got things off to a good start, HE even said so HIMSELF.

The world was a primeval, disordered chaos.

So HE fixed the place up, & organized it into dry land/sea/sky, gave it some shape, HE added vegetation.

Which turned the surface into a kaleidoscope of colour.

   HE added more than 9 million species of animals, to populate    & add dramatic movement to this growing masterpiece.

   Each one more fabulous & spectacular to look at than the next.

   And HE called them all good.

   But it still wasn't enough.    GOD wanted to make something that looked like HIM.

   Let US make man in OUR    own image, after OUR likeness.

   And so up we came, from the dust of the Earth.    Formed out of clay or a rib.

   Each of us containing 45 miles of nerves, that    enable us to experience the sensation of touch.

      A mind to think, a tongue to taste all the goodness       that had just been made. Ears to hear, & most of all:       Eyes to see.

   Mineralogists, who study the world's rarest gems, have never    been able to identify anything more astoundingly mysterious    or indescribably beautiful than the human eye.

   If you peer deep into irises, they seem to contain whole galaxies.    Nebula & interstellar clouds.

   Expanding & contracting with the dilation of the pupils.

   They can also get us into trouble; which they did.

       The forbidden fruit of the tree of the knowledge of        good & evil, was not only said to be good for food,        but also pleasing to the eye.

   It was attractive, & so we took it.

   Then everything blew up, which is what tends to happen    when we take something attractive we're told not to take.

      Soon we found ourselves naked & alone;       separated from GOD, & locked out of paradise.

   The first of many exiles to come.

   What would happen next?    What would we find in that howling wilderness east of Eden?

      For being called the tree of knowledge,       it certainly didn't live up to its name.

   We gained no new knowledge    except for the fact that we were lost.

   In the aftermath, when GOD cursed the deceiver:

      HE alluded to an offspring (JESUS the CHRIST)       born of a woman, who would       crush the serpent & set things to right.

   But when? How soon?    Who would this saving person born of woman be?

   How would HE redeem the broken world?

   For that we would have to wait & see..

https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=1120 https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=1382 [Matt Maher]

The song I chose to perform for tonight is called

"Hope for Everyone"

Small changes, as the formation of a baby in the womb, help reinforce that sense of joyful expectation

     The four weeks preceding Christmas is traditionally known      as the season of Advent. Advent comes from a Latin word      "Adventus," which means arrival.

     A lot of times when we think about the birth of JESUS, we      think of it as about it sort of being a singular event.

     But anyone who has kids knows that there's a lot of      waiting involved.

     There are months & months of preparation, there's the      miracle of watching a child grow.

     First time you feel a baby kick, you know sleepless nights,      all these small changes that happen along the way.

     And they help reinforce that sense of joyful expectation.

     That's really what the season of Advent is about.

     The first week of Advent is dedicated to reflecting on the      gift of hope.

                 More than ever before the world needs a                  supernatural sense of hope, that isn't                  just rooted in optimism or wishful thinking.

     Rather it's rooted in the knowledge and expectation that      GOD's going to come through.

     And I hope this song blesses you tonight.

                 Hear the angels sing: There's hope for everyone.                  To announce our KING, there’s hope for everyone.

                 What good news they bring.

                 There is hope for everyone!

                 Angels sing: “There is hope for everyone.”

                 They came from afar, so there’s hope for everyone.                  Wise men saw the star, there’s hope for everyone.                  Shepherds heard the choir, there’s hope for everyone.

                 From afar, there’s hope for everyone.

                 Chorus:                  We are waiting on the promise                  For the ONE who lights the darkness                  Bending low to be among us                  Bring YOUR glory in the highest                  JESUS

                 Come let us adore, there’s hope for everyone!

                 On the manger floor, there’s hope for everyone.                  What are you waiting for, there’s hope for everyone.

                 Come adore, there’s hope for everyone!

                 Chorus:                  We are waiting on the promise,                  For the ONE who lights the darkness                  Bending low to be among us                  Bring YOUR glory in the highest                  JESUS

                 Coming on the clouds!!                  There’s hope for everyone.                  Hear the trumpets sound, there’s hope for everyone.                  All the Heaven shouts, Heaven shout!

                 There’s hope for everyone,                  On the clouds there’s hope for everyone.

                 We are waiting on the promise...JESUS                  For the ONE who lights the darkness, JESUS                  Bending low to be among us, JESUS                  Bring YOUR glory in the highest, JESUS!

                 We are waiting! We are waiting on the promise.                  For the ONE who lights the darkness (2x) JESUS

                 Bending low. Bending low to be among us: JESUS                  Bring YOUR glory in the highest! JESUS! JESUS!!

                 All the Heavens shouts: There’s hope for everyone!                  Heaven shouts: There’s Hope for Everyone!! (3x)

SCRIPTURE

       ●  Psalm 96:3 | Declare HIS glory among the nations,             HIS wonderful deeds among all peoples.

       ●  Psalm 97:6 | The heavens proclaim HIS righteousness;             all the peoples see HIS glory.

       ●  Psalm 102:15 | So the nations will fear the name of             the LORD, & all the kings of the earth will fear YOUR glory.

       ●  Psalm 113:4 | The LORD is exalted over all the nations,             HIS glory above the heavens.

https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=1690 Hillsong United

     Hey everybody, it’s Matt & Jad from Hillsong United; &      we are so excited to be here for this Christmas Special.

     And we are about to sing: Oh Come All Ye Faithful

     Jad: I love this song, & the reason why we would choose      this song is because it’s simply just so worshipful.

         Come Let us Adore the Newborn KING

     And I think we’re not, you know? It’s exciting because we’re      not singing about mistletoe/snow/santa(n), which are all      Christmas-y things.

     But you know, obviously the reason that we are here.

     The reason why we celebrate Christmas is to remember      the newborn KING; & it’s a 200 yo song, so there’s so much      history. People have been singing this song for years.

     And that’s what I love about it.

     Matt: That’s right, & any opportunity that we get to join in that      song & sing with people around the world, like this tonight,      we’re going to do it.

     And we are so excited to be apart of this, so      wherever you are, sing along with this.

     Join in & we’ll see you soon.      https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=1753

                 Oh Come All Ye Faithful                  Joyful & Triumphant

                 O Come Ye, O Come Ye to Bethlehem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5ftnTK9-3w&t=1749s

https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=1990

   Things went downhill pretty fast, Cain killed Abel.

    Abel's blood cried out from the ground, & when    GOD asked Cain about it, he replied:

      Am I my brother's keeper? Every man for himself,       every woman for herself. Self, self, self, & soon       the storm clouds gathered, swollen with rain.

   Had the human experiment been a mistake?    Maybe a reset would do?

   Noah's hands stripped bark from gopher wood, to build    an ark quickly filled with twosomes of fur, wool, scales,    feathers, hooves, talons, claws, teeth, & horns.

      How does that sound for company       on a 40 day sail on rough seas?

Joel Smallbone of King & Country [43:58]

   I like to say Little Drummer Boy sort of found us vs. us finding it.

   The song was written in the 1940′s, right in the middle of the    second world war.

   This boy & these lyrics & the intent of the song basically that    this child feels very ill-equipped to sort of approach JESUS &    all he has is music & rhythm & this drum.

    That's his offering:

    We found there was something very apropos, that as humanity,     this is all we really have to bring is whatever that gift is.

       And that's enough, & that's        what's beautiful about this.

https://youtu.be/T5ftnTK9-3w?t=2638

[lunri-moonguardian]

Dioniss aca, little one.

Lunri sat in the Exodar inside the Crystal Hall fiddling with the soul crystal. There was still a glow to it, and a slight warmness radiated from it. Today was the day she would be freed from this crystal. She would be trapped no longer. It ached Lunri to know her daughter would not be with her any longer, but she also wanted her to fly free and join with the Light. The clacking of hooves echoed on the platform as Danarshi arrived, followed shortly by Epilvik, and someone she had yet to meet. She had seen him around, but had never been introduced to him. With a deep sigh, she stood up and looked at them. Danarshi made a formal bow to Epilvik, quickly followed by herself. If it wasn’t for Epilvik, she would have died that day. Danarshi’s deep booming voice filled the hall. “Well met, justicar. I am honoured that you have come to this ceremony.”

Epilvik returned both of their bows. “My apologies I was late. I was held up momentarily on Argus,” he explained of himself. “Of course an occasion as significant as this I wouldn’t and couldn’t miss for anything.” He assured them both.

“Of course, brother. I am merely happy to hear that many of us continue to persevere upon our shattered homeworld. Willing fighters are needed if we are to win this war,” Danarshi boomed in a pleased tone, and with a curt nod towards him.

Once they had finished, Lunri walked up to Epilvik to smother him in a hug. “I owe you my life, Epilvik. Should you ever have need of anything, please do not hesitate to call upon me.”

Epilvik embraced Lunri warmly, resting his head against hers as he held her in his arms. “You need never even think about it, Lunri. It was what was right to do. I am merely glad that you are okay, that you survive through. You are most important to Rhuua and I. And we will be glad and proud to have you by our sides, now and for always,” he said with a smile. At the kind exchange between Epilvik and Lunri, a warm smile graced Danarshi’s blue features.

Ashaar had showed up to the funeral looking a bit solemn. He didn't really know Lunri well, but the death of a child was something that no one should have to grieve about alone, especially when the order was there to support one another. He walked up to Lunri, and nodded in respect "Lunri, I'm Ash, we've met once before. I just wanted to come to show my respects. I am terribly sorry for your loss." His eyes showed genuine sympathy for her as he greeted her.

Danarshi bowed before Ashaar, and was the first to greet him, as Ash kindly bowed back to him. “Well met, brother Ashaar. Thank you for coming.”

As Danarshi greeted Ashaar, Lunri slid over to him. She was unsure of this new Draenei to their order, but she trusted her Order’s judgment. “It is nice to meet you, brother. I am sure we will see each other more often. Welcome to the order.” Lunri stuck out her delicate, frail hand and shook hands with him. His hands were large, but soft and well manicured. It was obvious to Lunri that this man took pride in his appearance.

Ashaar nodded solemnly towards her. “Thank you, sister. I am sure we will be seeing plenty of each other, and remember, as a Vindicator, I swear to protect anyone in the order, in any fight. I will have your back whenever you need me.”

Lunri nodded at Ashaar before making her way back to the front. “I believe we will begin once one more of our order shows. She ran into some trouble on her way here.”

A few moments later, Avareia shuffled in, followed by a blue petaltush. Danarshi greeted Avareia with a bow, as did everyone else. “At last. Welcome, Avareia. I am happy to see that you could make it to the ceremony, “ Danarshi greeted her warmly as Lunri walked up to her. “Welcome, sister. I am glad you could make it.” She wrapped her frail arms around the woman, and gave as tight a hug as she could, being returned with an equally tight hug from Ava.

For a minute, Ava spaced out. “Oh, right, hello! Good evening everyone.”

Lunri and Danarshi stood at the front of the group, patiently waiting for everyone to get settled in as hellos between each of them filled the hall. As all quieted down, Lunri cleared her throat and squared her shoulders in preparation. Her dress that day still held loosely onto her frame, and her face was still gaunt, but her voice carried with determination to see this ceremony through, breaking the eerie, but welcoming silence. “Thank you for coming, brothers and sister, in my time of need. As most of you know, I was kidnapped and attacked, and in the process Sha’Tari was killed before me, forcing me to watch, as he trapped her soul in this crystal.” A scared hand, covered from the palm down in brown leathers, tapped the crystal sitting on a choker at the base of her neck. “Today, Danarshi has so kindly accepted to release her so she may rest in peace with the Light. I chose this place today, because it was where my journey started. And here too, will be where Sha’Tari’s journey begins.” Near the end, her voice cracked and tears escaped their prison, freely cascading down her face. Not being able to speak lest she break down right there, she merely stepped aside and gestured at Danarshi to take the stand.

Epilvik dipped his head sadly in mutual hurt for the pain and suffering that Lunri now faced, saddened by her heart break. Lunri held out the gem for Danarshi as he moved to take the stand. She could visibly see Avareia clenching her hand reflexively. She wasn’t up to date with much of Te’Amun, so was slowly processing all of the mournful news one tear at a time. She eyed the man to the left of the Justicar, but said nothing as she turned her attention to Danarshi. As Lunri looked over at Ashaar, she saw him bowing his head in solemnity. Seeing the pain in her eyes from the tragedy she went through was too much for him to watch. He remained quiet as the funeral proceedings went on.

Danarshi turned his head and watched Lunri as she opened  the ceremony, a supportive expression present up his face. As she began to lose control of her emotions, the Anchorite issued her with a nod of understanding. As the soul gem was offered to him, he calmly approached the woman, placing each of his hands around her own and politely taking the gem from her. A moment later, he returned to his spot and clasped each of his hands in front of his waist in a respectful manner, the soul gem still held within them. His eyes also diverted down towards the ground beneath them. “The very day that the grim news of Sha’Tari’s demise had reached me was a dark day indeed. Many a tragic death have I witnessed across the span of my life, though, -this-... this was a tragedy that was -never- meant to unfold,” he expressed, falling into a few seconds of silence. “Sha’Tari, in Draenei, means “one that is born from the Light”. Though our young sister was taken from  us early as to never see the waking world, that does not necessarily mean that her journey was cut short. Though the life within her physical body was taken from her, her spiritual one was  not. In life, Sha’Tari would have grown to serve many of us faithful, and have become known as a fellow sister. Now, in death, her spirit shall be freed, and, despite the wicked actions of the monster who claimed her from the the Material Plane, she will still hold the ability to roam the world, freely, and venture to whichever destination calls for her. As her name resembles, she shall indeed be born from the light, and continue to linger among us forevermore,” he finished, finally lifting his head back up to face the group. “That is all that I wish to speak on. Thank you for allowing me the chance to speak on our fallen sister.”

The petaltush beside Avareia stared blankly at Danarshi, virtually understandig only a few words that escaped the Anchorite’s mouth. He waddled up to Lunri and offered a single starflower, freshly picked from his home in Draenor. He then waddled back to Avareia, still confused on what Danarshi said.

Ashaar, and Epilvik stood quietly, listening to Danarshi’s eulogy, trying to remain stoic, but both could feel tears welling up in their eyes. Avareia frowned as her gaze flashed from Petaltush to Lunri to Danarshi. She pulled her hood down as a few sniffles escaped from her.

As Danarshi delivered his speech, her shoulders shook despite her attempts to keep herself composed. As Petaltush waddled up to her, and delivered her a flower, she patted him on the head and tucked it into her hair. When she got home, she would preserve it and frame it, she decided. After a few moments to compose herself at least somewhat, she addressed the group again. “Thank you, Danarshi, that was perfect. Danarshi will release her from the crystal next, as I have already said my goodbyes in private. Anyone is welcome to do so before she is released. After that has been done, her body-” she points with a shaky hand behind her. “Will be burned in holy fire. When you are ready, Danarshi, unless anyone would like to speak their good byes.”

Danarshi’s eyes remained trained upon his peers ahead of him, expectant that at least one of them would have a few words to share. Lunri stood off to the side, looking down at the crystal in Danarshi’s hands as Avareia stepped past the Justicar and the mysterious man towards Lunri. After a few moments, she continued her stride to Lunri, and pulled the Draenei in for a tight, ‘welcoming’ hug. Avaraei said nothing for moments whilst Lunri was still in her grasp, but she pulled back and stared down at the crystal and murmured under her breath, “Light be with you, child, and darkness shan’t corrupt you further.” Lunri hugged Avareia back tightly, welcoming the woman’s tight embrace and kind words. “Thank you, Avareia.”  Avareia reached out to Lunri’s hands and squeezed them tightly; possibly exchanging a brownie or two with the hand holding. She flashed the Draenei a small, warm smile before stepping back next to the Justicar.

Danarshi watched the two sisters embrace. As she utters her wish upon the fallen child, he himself peers down at the gem that remained tightly grasped within his hands. He released a silent breath of a sorrow nature. Ashaar remained silent, but gave Lunri a sympathetic nod as he worked hard to keep his own composure. He may be a smart-ass in most occasions, but he knew that this was no time or place for humour, and he was shit at expressing real feelings. So, he remained quiet and respectful.

Justicar Epilvik took a few paces forward. “While we may not have known one another Sha’Tari, know you held a family and those that cared for you in the Order as much as any other. Although your life was tragically short, and cut from you before you had a chance to shine, to show others what you could achieve, and what you would bring to the world. Though you might not have the chance now, the world nonetheless is forever changed by your presence, and you have affected your mother, who will carry on your memory and your future with her, wherever she goes. She who can tell your story, and in the your memory will not fade, but it will live on, and be acknowledge by our people forever more,” he spoke gently before stepping back once more.

Ava’s petaltush grumbled as the Justicar nearly stepped on him. He looked towards Lunri, and let out a loud call: HYRAAAAAAH!” He blinked a few times, “Wrong one,” he stated in his gruffy voice. “Hyy-RUH, podling bless you, child. You gone too soon, like my dinner.” He stepped back next to Avareia and nodded sagely.

Danarshi’s eyes remained trained upon the soul gem as Epilvik uttered his words about Sha’Tari. As the Justicar finished his speech, the Anchorite peered up at him long enough to issue him with a respectful nod, clearly appreciative of what the man had to say. A smiled cracked at the corners of Lunri’s mouth as a brownie or two was pressed into her palm. Avareia knew just what she needed this day. She merely issued a curt nod to the Draenei so as not to let anyone else know of the exchange. As Epilvik began to speak, his words speaking volumes as always, she hugged herself tight. It was hard to let the Order see her so weak, but deep down she knew they understood. A low nod was offered towards the Justicar as she did not trust herself to peak at that moment. Emotions were roiling inside of her like a monsoon trying to tear her heart away. But at the words of Petaltush, she couldn’t help but chuckled. Epilvik had the opposite reaction to the Petaltush, gritting his teeth at it as he attempted to refrained from kicking into the water. Danarshi also pursed his lips and ground his teeth at Petaltush. He issued the Podling a rather distasteful look before diverting his attention. It would have to do. He expected much worse from a Podling. “It is time, brother.”

Danarshi glanced towards Lunri as she informed him that the time was nigh to send the young spirit away. With yet another nod, the Anchorite shuffled to his immediate right, settling within the middle of the rug. Slowly, he lifted the soul gem up until it was in front of his chest. He opened his fingers and rested the gem upon his palms, so all could properly see the insidious crystal. “You shall not be forgotten, young Sha’Tari. You shall live on within our memories, and soon, we shall come to meet you, I am sure of it, “ he shared in finality. A mere moment later, his hands are bather in the brightness, retaining it’s original form and colour. As time passes however, the surface of the gem would indeed, begin to change, it’s violet purple gradually turning to a holy gold. “Roam free, Sha’Tari. Dioness aca,” he said in farewell. At sudden, the soul gem physically pulsates and releases a puff of unholy energy. The magic that bound Sha’Tari’s spirit to the soul gem has now been broken, and the young Draenei is able to free herself from her crystalline prison. Lunri feels a blissful moment of peace as she sees her child lift into the air. Her tears of utter sadness shift to those of happiness, and a smile breaks her gaunt features. "Fly free, little one. Fly free."

As Danarshi completed the ritual, and Sha’Tari is released from her crystal prison, suddenly there was a flash of light from above, and a gem, hovering high above them, well out of reach, glowed to life, casting a holographic image above the order. The image showed the room that Lunri was all too familiar with, where she was tortured for days, weeks, almost months. Images flashed revealing the details of her torture, complete with the sounds of Lunri screaming in agony, the dark figure standing over her looked an awful lot like Osgoth, though more sinister looking. Lunri laid fully exposed on the table, for the whole order to see, and excruciating details of her torture were played back bit by bit. The images only lasted for a few moments, but it all culminated in the image of the man cutting Lunri open, pulling out her unborn child, and stabbing it with a dagger.The gem in the hilt of the dagger could be clearly seen, glowing as he held the child in the view of whatever recorded this image. Finally, all that could be seen was the image of the man’s face as he looked down upon the members of Te’Amun. With an evil grin, he said the words, “Prepare”. The image cut out as quickly as it started. As Lunri saw the images being played over, she shouted out in defiance, “No! No more! I cannot take anymore!”  She puffed up in anger, her hands clenched at her sides as purple veins popped out of her arms and her body was filled to the brim with adrenaline. "YOU WILL NOT BREAK ME AGAIN." Without thought, lightning crackled along her arms and to her hands, and she aimed them towards the gem. A rage filled roar emitted from her as she aimed the lightning towards it, and released it, overdrawing on her chi as she does so. In response, her body collapsed to the floor, having utterly exhausted herself. She laid there curled up, a shaking slobbering mess murmuring 'no more no more'. Epilvik also released a ragged dagger, and several bursts of holy energy at the image until the gem that was projecting the image shattered, shooting small, and mostly harmless shards down on the group.

Ashaar watched the images with a look of sheer terror on his face. He had no idea the extent of the horror that the poor woman had endured, until now, and he was infuriated. The audacity of this evil sonofabitch, to have set this up to further break Lunri, Ash couldn’t even fathom it. He gritted his teeth as he watched, and when the final image of the man appeared, telling them to “Prepare”, Ash balled his fists up and shook his head, taking a shard of the gem to the cheek without so much as a flinch. As blood trickled down his cheek, he looked at Lunri, and his gaze softened. What she must be going through right now, he had no idea, but his earlier promise still held true. If he was needed, he was ready to fight any fight for any member of this Order.

Danarshi’s eyes were quick to dart upwards at the sudden sound that appeared. He too moved his head as he noticed the floating crystal. He furrowed his eyebrows in some measure of concern, though, once he realized what was unfolding before them, his heart felt as thought the Void itself had crushed in around it, countless emotions of negativity flooded throughout him. Any who looked at him would see that we was struggling to watch the recording, his teeth clenched. As the scene came to where Lunri’s abdomen was to be cut, Danarshi could not hope to continue watching. The man diverted his vision to the ground, and sealed his eyes shut; hearing it unfold was enough to send shivers down his spine. As it was clear that the worst of it had passed, the sinister word, “prepare” ringing from the crystal, he is quick to snap his head back up. Though the projection shatters only seconds afterwards, the Anchorite had been given enough time to make out the wicked Draenei’s face. “Valicos,” he muttered, his voice sounding of hatred and loathing.

Epilvik ached to break him, to destroy him entirely. His fury, aggression, and anger playing out over his features as he was filled with intense hatred at seeing in person what had been done to Lunri and seeing her reaction to it all over again. He bellowed at the image, “You will not come here and victimize our people, you will die for what you have done, nothing you can do, say, or plead will stay our wrath. You will die so slowly and painfully you will think Kil’Jaeden himself is flaying your body.” He snarled in fury as the image dissipated.

Avareia -immediately- rushed over to Lunri, possibly tripping over herself once on the small ‘journey’ over. After the man’s dramatic showcasing was done, she reached her palm out to collect one of the shards that rained down. Clenching the crystalline fragment in her hand, she grasped Lunri and pulled her into a somewhat protective shell whilst he laid on the ground.

Lunri flinched at the touch of the older Draenei, and whimpered. “Please, no-” before realizing who it was. As it dawned on her, she hugged the Draenei. Her body shivered in fear, and she ached to cry it out, but no tears would leave her clenched eyes.

Danarshi took point after Avareia, the Anchorite tossed the purified soul gem aside and fell into a kneel beside her them, placing each of his hands upon Lunri in some crude effort of calming her. “It is okay, Lunri. I was only a projection. You are safe, and as long as we remain within your reach, you shall remain that way.” Danarshi proceeded to peer off into the distance. “Valicos shall pay, dearly, for the atrocities that he has committed, “ he muttered in a rather hushed tone. It was loud enough that Lunri and Avareia could have picked it up, though it was unlikely Epilvik or Ashaar could have heard it from their distance.

Lunri nodded at Danarshi, and tugged him closer, needing the presence of those few she could trust. “I can’t do it. I just… I can’t. He’s left me so broken, and frail.” A numbness spread throughout her body, and she took her arms off of Ava to wrap them around her trembling body. “The-the body. We must burn it before he can take it. He cannot take her. Please, no.”

Ashaar didn’t know what to do right then, and felt really out of place. He wanted to help comfort Lunri, but that seemed to be covered, so he made use of himself by inspecting the perimeter to make sure there were no more threats.

Avareia slid the crystalline fragment into her small crystal pouch attached to her belt before her eyes scanned the area for the other crystal. After a few moments, she found it. Her ‘lifeless’ gaze bore into the fully-shaped crystal before she focused back to Lunri. “Let’s get started, shall we?” Avareia untangled herself from Lunri and pushed herself up, soon offering a gentle helping hand to her. Lunri nodded and took her hand, standing up on wobbly hooves. She draped an arm across Ava’s shoulders to help steady herself.   

Danarshi placed a reassuring hand upon one of the woman’s trembling arms. “He shall not have her. I am certain what we had just witnessed was merely staged. He is not here, nor would he dare tread upon such holy ground. Sha’Tari is safe, her spirit and her body. You are right however, and I shall not disregard your wishes.” A couple of moments later, he returned to his hooves and turned himself to face the corpse of Sha’Tari. “It is time that we complete your daughter’s passing into the afterlife. When you are prepared, I shall bathe her in holy fire. She shall become one with the Light, full so.”

Mr. Petaltush wandered over the ex-soul crystal and poked it, making sure it wasn’t going to burn his fingertips. He grabbed it and ran it over to Ava. Avareia pursed her lips as Petaltush handed over the crystal. She tucked her face downward whispering into Lunri’s ear. They whispered back and forth for a few moments, as Ava was offering to make it into jewelry for her. For the moment, Lunri took the crystal from Ava until the ceremony was over.

At that moment, Danarshi placed his undivided focus upon the small fetus, that of which was Sha'Tari. The sight was undeniably grisly, and was enough to turn even the stomach of Danarshi, of all people. "Are you prepared, sister?" he asked once more in reassurance, directed at Lunri. He would not dare cremate her daughter without her utmost permission.

Avareia perked up. "May I help?" Her gaze bore into Danarshi, as if her eyes were saying 'pleasepleasepleaseplease'.

Ashaar walked up to the others after he was done making sure the perimeter was secure "There's no one here but us, that gem was obviously planted before the proceedings, and whoever left it, is long gone."

Danarshi peeked over at Avareia, and did not hesitate to nod at her. "I would be honoured if you were to lend your hand in the process, though the decision ultimately rests upon the shoulders of Lunri," he reminded her, his eyes turning to Lunri in curiosity.

Lunri looked between Danarshi, Ash, and then at Ava. “Thank you, Ash, it would mean a lot if you would help Danarshi, and Avareia. Please proceed before anything else can go terribly wrong.” She nodded at the three of them, giving her permission for all three to help. Somewhere in the process Epilvik had to leave to assist his wife, Rhuua.

Ashaar nodded at Lunri. “Of course, anything you wish.” He looked to Danarshi. “What do you need my help with?”

Danarshi shuffled to the side in order for Avareia and Ashaar to have the appropriate room upon the rug. “Very well. Raise your hand and walk fourth, with me,” the Anchorite explained, in which he does, indeed, life his own hand and wandered fourth towards Sha’Tari. “Now place said hand upon her,” he continued, doing as he described and placing his hand upon the small body. He was struggling to keep a neutral expression upon his face as he did this.

Lunri wanted to cry, but could not. Her body felt broke, bruised, and drained. It had only been a few hours, but it felt like an eternity. As she stood behind the group, she nibbled on a brownie before walking up to Ava and firmly grasping her free hand.

Seeing that his compatriots are prepared, he momentarily closed his eyes and released a deep, audible breath to control his inner emotions. “Now,” the command echoed down the hall from his lips. Holy fire erupts from the palms of the Anchorite’s, Ava’s and Ash’s hands and meets with the flesh of Sha’Tari. Immediately she caught fire, lighting the motionless infant aflame. All three remove their hand from the child, and take a step back. Once more, Danarshi clasps each of his hands together and rests them in front of his waist, properly closing his eyes and facing towards the floor. “Stand with me, my friends. Let us issue Sha’Tari with a minute of silence sh she has earned.” The Crystal Hall of was wrapped back up into it’s eerie but welcoming silence. Shamans could be heard practicing in the distance, making sure to give the group their space. A few moments pass, with Lunri resting her head on Ava’s shoulder and their hands clasped together as they listened to the holy fire. The crackling of the flames was somewhat unlike that of an ordinary fire. It was oddly calming, in a manner that was beyond description. The very sound of it brought calmness to the group, a reassurance that Sha’Tari had safely passed on, and she would find happiness, even if it was not within the Material Plane itself.

As the silence lingered on, Lunri took a deep breath and once more stepped in front of the group. “Thank you, brothers and sister for coming. It means a lot to me in this time of need. I-I think I would like to go home now and rest.” Her voice sounded dull, empty of all emotions. She just wanted sleep, and watch the rain beat against her window. To hear the crackling of the fire, and forget about her woes.

Danarshi too opened his eyes and moved his head back up as Lunri broke the silence. He watched her with a sympathetic expression as she spoke. At last, he stepped fourth, and offered the woman a supportive hug. “No, sister. Thank -you- for allowing us the privilege to witness the passing of your daughter. We are each in your debt,” he eventually responded, backing out of the hug afterwards. “If you -ever- require -any- of us, do not hesitate to call. You are in the safest of hands, my sister.” He bowed before her. “The time shall come that Sha’Tari is avenged, this I vow. I will not rest until justice is delivered upon Valicos, and Osgoth is found,” He uttered. “I shall leave you to rest, sister. Dioniss aca” He at last turned to make his exit, wandering towards the Seat of the Naaru.

Ashaar nodded at Lunri, solemnly, trying to put on a smile to comfort her. “Farewell, sister. I assure you, that I will be with you and the order every step of the way as we hunt down this man who did this to you. You have my word.”

Lunri waves a thin hand at Danarshi as he leaves, murmuring “Dioniss aca, brother,” at his back. She looked over to Ash, and politely nodded at him. “Thank you for coming, Ashaar. Perhaps we can chat after I am myself again. Until then, dioniss aca.” He sighed sadly, and then straightened himself. Walking out, he puffed up his chest to act stoic, and fight off more tears as he left.

Avareia held out her palm to Lunri. “I’ll get the choker back to you as soon as possible. All of my supplies are set inside of my workshop… which is not here.”

Lunri hesitantly set the crystal and the choker into Ava’s palm. She stared at it for a moment before meeting the Draenei’s gaze. “Thank you, Avareia. You have been much help to me.” She embraces her in a tight hug, nearly squishing her. “Dioniss aca, sister.” Avareia returned the hug, equally squishing her. She clenched her gloved fist around the crystal before sliding it into the same small baggie the choker is in. She looked around, picking up all the shattered crystalline fragments from the strange man’s entrance.

Lunri gathered up Sha’Tari’s ashes in a leather pouch with her name on it before taking out her hearthstone to hearth home.

#Dioniss aca #Lunri #Sha'Tari #Danarshi #Epilvik #Avareia #Ash #Ashaar #Ava #Te'Amun #MG #RP #Draenei #Funeral #Soul gem #Dark RP #Plot twists #Osgoth #Valicos

[wireslide]

So I wrote a thing and I got stuck but I wanted to ask @doitsuki what they think of it so far because uh...this ship, you are the expert, friendo.

The air in the court was one of benevolent indulgence, the light filtering through the windows shimmering in a shifting array of colors. The jewels of the gathered threw spangles of contrasting gem tones, backed in soft gold and bright silver. Two gleaming thrones perched atop the dais, the sorcerers in them both studies in casual leadership. On the right sat the more pale of the two, the ridges of his blue-white crest brushed with gold dust, each ring and chain link polished to a mirror sheen, hoof caps flicking red light this way and that as he bobbed one leg, the garnets within looking like little more than drops of sunset in the golden settings. He toyed with the fingers of the male beside him, twisting a band set with chips of dark amethyst on a finger only slightly paler than the stones. The other male, in contrast to the blue-white skin and gold jewelry, was a shade of lavender typically only seen in the earliest hours of morning, the metals gracing his skin all shades of hard silver, brushed and obscuring in contrast to his partner's shining mirrors. His hooves were unadorned, though crisply cut and polished, and the slight shift of them across the dais gave a faint, hollow scrape that indicated he went entirely unshod. His robe--covering far more than his position dictated, certainly more than his mate, clad in only the heavy gold belt with its dangling chains--settled between bare, muscular thighs and flashed the hint of a crease when he moved. His eyes rest on the bowing supplicant before their thrones, offering a neatly-sealed scroll in both dusky blue hands. "You may approach and state to Us your business with the court," he told the younger male calmly, his gentle voice carrying well through the room's carefully-wrought acoustics. The supplicant rose, jewelry whispering as it resettled against the heavy muscles of the broad-shouldered form. The white-skinned male paused only briefly in his toying with his mate's ring, rich blue eyes roving over the supplicant's bared body with unfeigned interest. The chains he wore, though few and thick, were expertly forged from empyrium, polished so that the deep blue metal looked as though it held back a million stars in each link. The stones that graced the pendants attached to the chains were large and flawless, the three basic colors of arcana splayed across the dusky blue chest. One nipple displayed a large hoop with three small stones dangling from it, chiming gently as he breathed. "My Lords," his voice was lighter than expected, making two sets of eyebrows raise slightly, "I come bearing the request for the proclamation of a new Master of the Conservatory, signed in support by all of the Masters therein." The paler of the two continued to study him, stroking the tips of his digits over the amethyst-flecked rings absently. He looks like a Jed'hin master, he shared the excited thought with his mate in the space between their minds, I need at least twelve. Outwardly, he simply raised a brow higher. "Surely you are aware that such unanimous support from the Conservatory's finest is unheard of," he noted, lacing his fingers with his mate's as one black brow twitched downward on the muscular male's face. Oh, look at how hard it is for him not to say something! He let a trace of his delight touch his lips. "Therefore, We must review the documentation, as well as your recorded projects, and We will return Our answer to the Conservatory in the morning." He gave his mate's hand a light squeeze when both dark brows twitched inward this time. He is trying so desperately not to argue! Twelve at least, Len. The lavender-skinned Lord squeezed back, stretching one long, toned leg out before him. Breathe, Jaakeil, or you'll start thinking so loudly he'll hear you. "You have an objection to Our desire to be thorough," the faint flick of his gaze to the Herald by the doors was just enough to be obvious, "Imonde?" The supplicant snapped his head down, closing his eyes at the faint titter that ran through the onlookers at the implication that he couldn't control his emotions enough to hide them effectively. "Of course not, Lord Velen," he spoke clearly despite his embarrassment, "I simply worry for the state of the Conservatory. The Masters are neither patient nor even-tempered, and without a direct authority at their reins, the potential chaos could be exponential." "The Masters of the Conservatory are hardly children, to require a parental guiding hand," Velen managed to sound calm and faintly disapproving despite his mate squealing loudly in his mind, "but your concern is noted." The words held social forgiveness for his inability to control his expression; the crowd in the court immediately resumed their soft, thoughtful murmurs. "The names and seals on the scroll must be noted in the instance of this unprecedented experience, and their choice given careful scrutiny. We will return with our blessing--or denial--in the morning. Rooms shall be prepared for you to pass the hours until then." He lifted his empty hand and gestured to the majordomo. Len he didn't compare them to children he said -reins- like they're unruly talbuk and his face is getting all twitchy again he has no control that's just not fair. Jaakeil shifted his weight to his other hip, drinking in the slight frown creasing the dark features even as Imonde ducked his head to try to hide it. One does not become the unanimous selection of the Masters of the Conservatory with no control, Keil. Also, that Jed'hin muscle structure is almost all illusion. Velen paused his gesture. "You have aught to add, Imonde?" "I would not put your staff to trouble, my Lords," still hiding his face, the muscular man rolled his shoulder back. The posture gave an odd mixture of pride and shame. "I am perfectly capable of teleporting to my own chambers at the Conservatory and back to the capital in the morning." "We did not suggest that you were not," Jaakeil told him, almost musing as he considered the colors of his and Velen's intertwined fingers, "however, We were also unaware that We had stuttered." He raised his bright blue eyes to meet the sliver visible of Imonde's and tilted his head to the side. I don't even care that he's playing on my intense affection for out-of-control brutes, he thought to his mate, I still need twelve.  Imonde lowered his gaze almost immediately, his frown disappearing in what wasn't quite the ghost of a smile. "As my Lords command, so it shall be," he murmured. Velen dragged his hooves back under him, and he and Jaakeil stood as one. "As there are no further pressing matters of court, We shall retire to privacy," he announced, "We have much to consider." He didn't so much as glance to his mate as one golden-wrapped hoof came down on a special plate between their thrones, sending out a ringing bell tone through the court. The sound ushered the crowd out before it, then soaked into the walls instead of echoing. Velen brought his husband's hand to his lips, giving their interlocked fingers a kiss. Shall we, my love? Jaakeil gave his hand a squeeze, a faint smile gracing his face. I thought they wouldn't leave fast enough. He followed his mate to the small teleportation discs behind their thrones, releasing his hand to step onto his and be whisked to their rooms in a flash of pinkish-white light. Velen was half a step behind him; when the taller Eredar materialized, Jaakeil pushed him back against the wall, pressing their lips together with all the enthusiasm he'd kept hidden between them earlier. His hand found the clasps holding the wrapped robe on easily, and by the time their tongues met the pressure of his husband's lust was the only thing keeping Velen' s robe on. Pale hands tugged at the fabric anyway, and Jaakeil growled when it caught on his belt. "Easy, my beauty," Velen murmured, catching his mate's wrists and lifting them to press a kiss each to the insides, "I will not be able to stop myself from getting upset should you tear my favorite robe." Halfway through making a face to sum up his frustrations, Jaakeil paused. He gripped Velen's split crest and pulled his taller mate down to stare him in the eye. That's what you call your talbuk, he pointed out, a bright thread of interest popping through his thoughts. 'My beauty.' The lavender Eredar slid his palms along the length of his mate's arms, cocking his head despite the weight on his crest and humming thoughtfully. Well, he is also a magnificent example of his species... his hands mapped over well-known territory, fingers finally catching on the belt and disentangling it from his robe and tossing it aside, and I also very much enjoy riding him.

#velen #kil'jaeden #veljaeden