apaise

[apaise]

feveredblurs​:

despite her parents’ crucial work for the crown, the kuvars had never garnered much attention from the court, always in the shadows of those with much longer titles. naturally, naya was just as invisible growing up. she didn’t mind it. much like her parents, she didn’t need the spotlight     if anything, naya shied away from it instead.

which is why it shocked her when aleksander chose her out of all the ladies in court. at first she had thought it could be her close relationship with dru… but it never seemed as though aleksander was too fond of it.

her new status came with an influx of attention as well. suddenly everyone wanted to be naya’s friend     even those who whispered about her in the halls when the engagement was announced would shower her in smiles and praise, trying to win her favor. for the coming weeks, naya barely had a moment alone ( but never with the one person she wanted to be with most ). people were dying to know all about the wedding, her story with aleksander, how the king fell in love with the peasant.

queen alys was the first person to ask naya not about her husband, but herself     the person she was before she became the king’s bride. alys did not care about filling a gap in their beautiful love story; she was genuinely interested in what naya had to say.

she’s kind in her support of naya’s skills as well. though naya was plenty confident in her work as a general rule, that could not be applied to dragons. the closest experience she’s ever had was treating duchess barrera’s rabbit when he hurt his leg     it couldn’t quite compare to the beast naya had before her now.

finally ready to start dressing the wound, naya’s surprised when queen alys speaks again, starting off with an apology of all things. “ oh. ” naya’s eyes widen slightly at the realization. “ my apologies as well, your majesty. i, too, was caught up in conversation. ”

upon alys’s introduction, naya turns to the dragon and bows her head, a hand drawn to her chest. “ it is an honor to make your acquaintance     and to be allowed to help you. ” a small, tentative smile appears on her lips as she finally meets the dragon’s gaze. “ i promise treatment will be mostly painless. ” naya can’t help but notice how she sounds like a doctor first and foremost. her talent never lied in praising and entertaining, but comforting instead.

as if reading her thoughts, alys goes on to speak highly of her roots, deeming it grand and impressive. despite them having only just met, naya has no doubt she means those words wholeheartedly. “ that’s very kind of you, your majesty. truly, i thank you. ” naya never sought the praise of others with her work; though she could not deny how much it warmed her to be met with such gentleness.

her smile falters for a moment as the queen continues. naya does not doubt her parents’ love for her for a moment… which is why it pains her to want to go against their wishes so badly. she never asked for anything for herself     she always thought her freedom would be a given. “ they do… we may not always see eye to eye, but i know they have my best interest at heart. ” had she said too much? she and alys may have gotten along quite fast, but that was no invitation for naya to speak to her of such personal matters.

pushing those thoughts aside, naya chooses to focus on the task at hand. she’s cautious as she begins cleaning beryl’s wound, ensuring she makes no sudden movements or risks hurting her further. it’s a stark difference to handle scale instead of skin, but naya doesn’t see its greater resistance as an excuse to be careless in her work.

she means to ask beryl if she’s being too rough, but queen alys poses an inquiry of her own before she can get a word out. it surprises her, how the other asks such a simple question… yet one naya can’t answer so easily.

“ i… i’m not sure i’m allowed. ” her expression’s almost embarrassed when naya meets her gaze. “ that’s not an answer fit for a princess, is it? ” naya smiles apologetically. “ i feel as thought there’s a lot to be expected of me now… and that none of it involves my studies. ”

she’s already being far too honest. queen alys should not know how she truly feels… but she may be the only one who can truly understand. “     do you ever feel like that, your majesty? ”

with the last proper doctor to tend to beryl being some mad man who wanted to do a thousand tests to slake his own curiosity, naya’s respectful demeanor is greatly appreciated. she not only treats beryl with the courtesy presumed for someone in the queen’s retinue, but . . . also as if beryl were some human patient, kindly informing her of the expectations of this procedure. for a wound this small, most physicians in the vale would not even bother to comfort their patient. alys could recall a few who had subjected her to painful needles and even a bleeding without so much of a syllable of consolation, assuming the tight-lipped queen could bear it. though their assumption was correct, she would have much preferred a gentler administration from someone like naya.

beryl’s eyes soften with naya’s words, and she bows her head with a contented purr deep in the back of her throat. usually the dragons would not make such a sound in front of someone they just met -- preferring to continue their airs of mystery and greatness. but it seems beryl already trusts naya immensely, and alys could not fault her faith. there’s an infallible sincerity about naya, something easily noticeable when it’s so often absent from court.

❝ we’re very grateful to hear it, ❞ alys smiles in response to the promise of a pain-free treatment, quietly amused by the situation still. who would’ve guessed that the young princess would have such talents? the rumors truly do her skills and grace a considerable disservice, focusing far too much on king aleksander.  

with that, she brushes aside naya’s gratitude, feeling such intelligence warrants praise far more than one merely being born to their station. ❝ i only speak the truth, ❞ she contends simply with a nod.  ❝ it’s a tremendously noble profession. ❞ how wonderful it is too, for her family to have all followed the same honorable path. seeing beryl agree, alys chuckles lightly, knowing precisely what the dragon would mean to say to tease her queen.

❝ i'm afraid you rather outrank us in that domain, ❞ she admits in jest -- unintentionally slighting naya’s husband too, to speak on behalf of unimpressive monarchs everywhere. her expression falls to embarrassment when she faces naya again, alys clearing her throat with a soft ❝ pardon me ❞ as she hopes to bury those words. such is the danger of speaking when she’s around beryl, her dragons always rendering her far too comfortable.

despite her feeble attempts to keep the conversation amiable yet light, alys finds herself venturing further with naya as the two beginning to speak of family. there’s a silent understanding of what it means to bear the burden of duty to one’s kin, and suddenly . . . alys feels like she’s the patient being treated, naya washing old wounds the queen had let fester.

❝ i can understand, ❞ alys gives a small smile, leaving it there lest she say something else impertinent. but there’s gratitude and almost sadness to meet someone who has lived so much like alys: aiming to do her best to fill the role expected, yet stretching herself thin in the meanwhile.

though her question had been posed from her own curiosity, alys regrets having put naya in an awkward situation when she struggles to find an answer. of course she could not know what the future would hold and what her duties would be; it was foolish for alys to ask. ❝ it’s an answer perfectly fit for a princess, ❞ she reassures swiftly, shaking her head. ❝ there are few roles as uncertain and mercurial. it was my own blunder to pose such a question, ❞ alys apologizes. even her own days before the throne had been filled with doubts, despite being trained her whole life in the ways of court and sovereignty.

even with their keen understanding, alys had not predicted that naya would ever return her question. it’s such a simple echo of a query and yet it stuns alys like a slap of ice water. though many have been interested to learn what the world of a monarch entails, alys could always summarize it well enough with an outline of her schedules. naya does not ask for that, however. she asks how it feels.

❝ i . . .  ❞  she starts, struggling with her instinct to smooth the dialogue over with some pleasantries. yet it seemed like a paltry payment for the princess’s kind care of beryl, to return naya’s expert administrations with mere etiquette. alys pauses to seek something truer, something that could give solace to the young woman before her. after all, when alys was at the eve of her own coronation, her sister dead, the kingdom all looking to her . . . all she wished was to not be alone in her grief, her confusion.

❝ . . .  i’ve never had something of my own like that before, ❞ alys begins at last, eyes flickering to naya’s hands nimble at their work.  ❝ something to sacrifice. ❞ a dream. alys wonders what’s worse: to have something you love and have to abandon for the throne, or to have never loved at all. ❝ but i felt that loss as well, to never have the chance to discover, ❞ she gives the princess a sad smile.

alys hesitates for a second, fearing she’s said too much. but looking at naya and seeing her young self once again, enduring so much in the quiet . . .  alys steps a little closer.  ❝ . . . it’s strange, isn’t it? ❞ she murmurs, voice soft as her heart pounds in her ears. ❝ to be congratulated and celebrated, yet feel as if you’re in mourning. ❞ @fatescattered​

#( CRAZY LONG AND TWO YEARS LATE HECK YA ) #( i forgot about these two but i love them lakjsdf but so elegant and Duty and Honor first always T_T poor girls ) #( SUCH A SOFT FRIENDSHIP THOUGH ) #( god though poor naya lKJASDF FORGOT WE DID THIS TO HER ) #fatescattered #( v: dragons ) #( c: alys )

[apaise]

it's only when george's touch ghosts against her skin that kaya realizes she had reached for her, pulse thrumming faster beneath the calloused pad of her fingers. it's a touch that kaya would turn over and over in her head when george is days gone; by comparison, no other touch could feel as electric, george's leaving want in its wake.

she doesn't take kaya's hand in hers like she used to -- skin flush with the heat of adventure and excitement, ready to tug kaya from the manor towards some escapade in the village. kaya had been spoiled then. now george leaves her here, and kaya wonders if she should be the one doing the pulling -- if george would even want that. kaya certainly couldn't compare, lacking so many years in worldly experience still while george collects a treasure trove of tales.

kaya lets her hand fall back to her side. better to not add to george's troubles, to do what she already knows george truly wishes in kaya caring for emma ( it's cowardice cloaked in kindness ).

kaya nods as george suggests the gardens, pausing only slightly when she waves for her lead. the gesture isn't like merry's, or klahadore's, but it isn't george either. in their youth, she'd be more like to throw her arm around kaya and feign some sudden illness when klahadore tried to usher her out the front door. kaya would endeavor to insist with her most ladylike authority they would have to let george rest before sending her on her way -- but the fit of giggles was often too telling otherwise.

how foreign it feels to walk together in quiet now, the space between them felt ten times its reality to kaya. most times george returns, they could fall back into some of their old routine gradually, but tonight . . . kaya's head's still swimming with all she hasn't said about -- kuro. she's thinking of mentioning the new medicinal blooms in the garden when george speaks again first, the tease bringing kaya to smile.

it's only george who can call kaya things like awful and make her flush and chuckle like she was just compared to a magnolia. but the familiarity, the cheek, the decades-old intimacy -- only george has that.

❝ i wasn't that terrible, was i? ❞ she laughs as she obeys, taking a cream coat from the closet before gingerly slipping into it. she doesn't the question linger too long, however, a little embarrassed to hear what george thinks of her. ❝ but -- emma just knows what she can get away with, ❞ she comments as she takes down another coat, the knowingly fond expression on her face indicating she believes it to be a family trait.

❝ you should bundle up too, ❞ she advises as if she isn't already wrapping the second coat around george's shoulders. it's brand new, never taken out of the closet, and kaya understands why she purchased it now seeing the way the maroon alights the amber in george's eyes.

whenever george is on the road, her thoughts always go back to her hometown. she thinks of what must've changed, how sungtae is managing the pub all on his own. how emma's adjusting to her new home – though her sister was always quick to adapt, especially when in the company of books. she thinks of kaya, if she's safe with her butler from hell constantly shadowing her, if she thinks of her, too.

for someone who occupies george's mind so often, kaya renders her uncharacteristically quiet. george's words always seem to have more weight when said to kaya, so she does her best to think them through and not act so carelessly – especially now that she has a secret to keep.

the way in which she matches kaya's smile is second nature by now. no matter how anxious george feels, seeing her always made her feel better. she's relieved she's not the reason for kaya being up, too – but before she can voice it, she feels kaya's hand gently reaching for her own.

gaze drops down as a reflex, and george struggles to fight the urge to wrap her hand around kaya's. it doesn't feel right, to hold her close when she's always slipping away. in the end, she only turns her hand slightly, fingers brushing against kaya's palm. it's all she can give of herself for now.

" yeah. " her throat feels dry as she croaks out the word. " gardens? " she offers, as if there's anywhere else on the property they could go for a stroll. heading into town at this late hour would be risky, and george doesn't want to leave emma unattended, even if she's asleep.

she motions for kaya to go first, a courteous gesture that doesn't quite suit her. when they were kids, george would often act proper and play up the theatrics to make kaya laugh; now, it just serves as a reminder of the distance between them. at the end of the day, she's just a runaway criminal, with no hopes of clearing her name, while kaya keeps on moving ahead without her.

the walk to the front door is quiet. though she had sought kaya out, george hadn't actually thought of what to say to her. bringing up kuro seems ill-timed, and she won't dare mention her time travelling, lest she slips up.

but when they spend so long apart as it is, relying solely on very few letters, she doesn't want silence to be the only thing between them.

" grab a coat, " she advises as she opens the front door, hiding behind another mundane exchange. " merry will give me an earful if i let you catch cold. and you make for an awful patient. " her playful jab is paired with a smile in hopes of making kaya laugh. " even worse than emma. "

#( this got so yearny and that's on me for listening to dancing with your ghost on repeat while writing it lKJASDFASDF ) #( they just get yearnier and yearnier gonna give patp gidrin a run for the money ) #( they will never leave this door LMAO jk ) #fatescattered #( c: kaya )

[apaise]

kaya gazes up at the painted flowers on the ceiling as she tries to will herself to sleep, eyes tirelessly tracing the twisting vines. by now the poison klahadore had served her for years had completely left her system -- no more hours of feverish headaches, wracking coughs, aching chills -- yet her stomach still churns. she keeps running the conversations of the day over and over in her mind, hating herself for lying to george.

she could excuse the briefness of her letter for not wanting to send pages and pages to george to read. but now that george is here and nothing is preventing kaya from telling her the unadulterated truth . . . she keeps running away from the gruesome details, hiding them beneath praise for emma's ingenuity or the marines or her own carefully-placed high collar blouse.

it wouldn't help anything, she reminds herself. it's over now, and the story would only add to george's endless troubles. but it still sounds like a sorry excuse to kaya, no matter how she dresses it up or down. it's her fault for not taking george's dislike of klahadore seriously, allowing a monster to share the same roof as her sister. allowing him to hurt merry. in this manner klahadore may have been right after all; the years have amounted to her being a helpless, pampered brat. no matter how much she wants to be more for george, and emma, and merry.

the guilt's dizzying, her nervous hand picking at a loose thread on her blanket ( pushing away the phantom voice of klahadore scolding her for such unladylike behavior, finally catching and reminding herself to call him kuro; he was never klahadore ). at last kaya rises, disentangling herself from the blankets. maybe some fresh air will clear her thoughts . . . or at least, help her decide what to tell george tomorrow.

yet when she opens the door, she's greeted with none other than george herself on the other side. it's so sudden, so welcomed, so flustering, at first kaya thinks she may be dreaming after all. it's always a little hard to believe when george is finally here with her them after weeks of only penned words; sometimes it feels as if she leaves just when kaya's grown accustomed. but she's standing here now, realer than life, hair mussed from attempted sleep and smelling faintly, faintly of forest and flame and gunpowder.

she forgets to speak, just drinking her in, always savoring these moments not knowing when the next job will whisk george away. it's only when george apologizes that kaya's nudged to answer, shaking her head. ❝ oh. no, ❞ she assures, a little amusement in her smile; she doubts george could accomplish that without expressly aiming for it, gait gentle as a cat. ❝ neither could i. ❞ she touches george's hand gently without realizing it, body always drawn to george's in an effort to prove her presence.

the custom would be to offer a calming tea, yet sitting sequestered at a table clinking porcelain would not seem to perfectly suit either of them now -- george usually keen to perambulate, kaya a little less fond of tea these days. ❝ we could . . . go for a walk? ❞ kaya suggests with a touch of sheepishness for the oddity of the hour. and yet she and george did not have much alone time upon her arrival, kaya too consumed with what she could share and what she couldn't, more than happy to relinquish time to the sisters' reunion.

@apaise gets a thing immediately bc we have no chill

the minutes seem to drag on as she lies awake, desperately wishing for sleep that never comes. the grandfather clock can be heard across the manor, its ticking seeming to grow louder and louder. it's the damn clock and nothing else keeping her awake, is what george tells herself as she tosses and turns.

even the bed feels unfamiliar tonight. she wonders if she'd been gone longer this time, or if the staff made it differently – all to avoid the deafening thoughts threatening to split her head in two at any moment.

the clock strikes at the hour ( which one, george does not know ), and she pushes herself off the bed with a frustrated groan. " gods! ridiculous, " she curses under her breath at no one in particular. she tells herself a walk or perhaps a glass of water will help, but when she exits her room, it's not the front door or the kitchen she's walking towards.

her feet move on her own as she makes for kaya's room, muscle memory telling her which turns to make. there's no break in her stride, but when george reaches her door, she halts.

what if kaya doesn't want to see her?

she would never voice it, far too sweet to make george feel worse than she already does. she'd never blame george for dropping a child in her care and disappearing for weeks at a time, while doing nothing to prove her innocence. maybe kaya would actually get mad if george told her about how she's really spending her time. maybe she should tell her, and allow kaya to finally show her true emotions.

her closed fist hangs by the door, never connecting. what would she even say? george drops her arm with a sigh, ready to turn around – only for kaya to open the door suddenly.

george almost jumps in place, eyes widened as if she's just been caught past her bedtime. " kaya. " she clears her throat, hands awkwardly at her sides. " sorry, i don't know why i... " george trails off, realizing she doesn't have an excuse ready on the go. whatever she can conjure up, she knows this is a lie she cannot sell her.

" did i wake you? " she asks instead, despite knowing full well she had not make a sound on her way over. " sorry, i just couldn't sleep. "

#( THIS WAS LONG AND RAMBLY SORRY i'm dead that lowkey when she saw george the thoughts kinda dissipated for a sec ) #( was not my intention just happened :/ ) #( feel free to move them outside or w/e ) #( obsessed with these two already ) #fatescattered #( c: kaya )

[apaise]

“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” george @ kaya

kaya's hand catches george's wrist gently the moment she spies the injury, the suture thread pitch black against her freckled skin. george blithely tells her about some accident in the stables during her last odd job as kaya frets, examining the wound for any sign of loose thread or infection. thankfully, it looks like good patchwork at least; it would heal clean and add to george's building gallery of scars. building along with kaya's worries -- it seems like every time george visits, kaya only feels more adamant she should simply move here with emma, villagers' gossip be damned.

yet she knows it isn't her place to keep her here. if george wants to clear her name -- the last keepsake from her father, her family's legacy -- kaya could not stand in her way for something as small as her own selfish wish to keep her safe. her thumb brushes the unbroken skin beside the scar, smile a little sad before she pulls away.

❝ . . . i'll pack more salves and ointments this time. ❞ hearing the somberness of her own tone and hating it, kaya endeavors to lighten the mood again. ❝ i think you go through those faster than emma goes through books, ❞ she teases. it makes a nice challenge for merry, at least -- trying to keep their library flush with more than merely kaya's medical texts.

realizing george had arrived just after luncheon, kaya seeks another way to care for her, always wanting george to get plenty of rest during her visits. ❝ oh -- have you eaten yet? ❞ there's a bit of excitement hidden in the question for once, hands fiddling in anticipation. lately kaya had been learning how to cook alongside her other studies, feeling such basic knowledge vital when working in the service of people's care. and though her skills are anything but impressive so far . . . she'd like to share them with george nevertheless ( she had been working on one dish in particular, with generous guidance from emma too. . . ).

❝ newt and sungtae are on their day off, but i could whip up something if you'd like. ❞

#( my thoughts went from 'why is this gay' to 'how could it not be' ) #( and then it went to IS THIS JUST REINVENTING VIVRIN I'M DEAD ) #( EVEN WITH THE COOKING AT THE END i realized that before i put that and i was like DAMN IT but i genuinely also feel like kaya #would want to show how she's grown a bit too ) #( or maybe not i'M STILL TESTING HER OUT LBR ) #( THEY'RE SOFT ALREADY THO AS ALWAYS + hope the stuff i wrote about emma is okay! just went off u saying shes brainy ) #( c: kaya ) #fatescattered

[apaise]

“It’s not haunted, just abandoned. Desecrated.” robin @ nami

when robin had first informed nami she'd discovered a crashed ship completely awash in forgotten treasure, nami felt like her birthday had come early. but when they actually arrive at the wreckage . . . nami's visions of returning to thousand sunny absolutely dripping in gold and jewels quickly dissipates, ambition leaving her body along with her soul.

though robin had already detailed the former crew had been murdered . . . nami hadn't expected such a foreboding scene: bloody footprints, half skeletons draped around the furniture, shattered windows, BEWARE and TURN BACK written in gore on the walls. nami's hand flits daintily to her lips as she gives a laugh. ❝ on second thought-- ❞ she turns on heel, immediately ready to abandon the cause.

robin's cool, completely unperturbed response would be reassuring if it wasn't for the fact nami knows robin would react just the same if the place were oozing in phantom spirits and slayers. nami shakes her head vehemently in response, no way repeated ten times in mantra. ❝ LOOK AT THAT! ❞ she points at the floorboards at their feet, 'save yourselves' scratched into the grain. ❝ there's definitely, definitely something creeping around here! ❞ she shudders, already picturing zombie hands closing around her neck.

and then her eye catches on a candelabra encrusted in emeralds.

clink.

suddenly, nami's at robin's side again, yet this time with an impossibly large sack already creaking with heavy riches. ❝ all right, let's just get out of here as soon as possible, ❞ she cedes, dusting her hands before giving a shining thumbs up and a grin to match.

❝ good find, robin. ❞

#( STILL GETTING USED TO THIS my brain is breaking each time with the dialogue switch LKAJSD BUT HAVING FUN ) #( these girlies deserve all the antics!! ) #fatescattered #( c: nami ) #( v: one piece )

[apaise]

[ supportive ] usopp @ nami

wracked with feverish body aches and a throbbing head, nami's thankful as usopp helps her with the blankets, frantically tucking her in but with a sniper's precision yet. before she can utter her thanks, however -- usopp plants a soft kiss on her head, slipped between a slew of instructions to stay put and stay hydrated. ❝ ah -- ❞ normally, nami would scold her -- they have no idea what this fever could be, what if it's contagious?! but she's taken aback for a moment by the gesture, soothed into silence.

no one's comforted her like this since bellemère. the few instances nami was sick in the past years . . . she would either push through it and keep working, or hole up in some inn alone. it was easier than making nojiko fret over nothing, and infinitely better than letting arlong and his men see her as weak.

but as much as she tried to spare her new crew their concerns here . . she at least knows she wouldn't have to worry about the latter. in fact, it'd almost be nice to be cared for if getting vivi home as fast as possible wasn't nami's top priority. and if it didn't hurt so much.

still, she's grateful to have usopp at her side.

. . . sure, usopp had panicked with the rest of them when vivi was diagnosing her, but nami knows she can rely on her to keep sanji and luffy in line. when it comes down to serious situations like this, usopp's always had her back with wrangling the idiots. ❝ thanks, usopp, ❞ nami gives a smile flush and fevered, yet no less genuine. ❝ i'm counting on you. ❞ her arm feels too heavy to even offer a handshake, but she manages to uncurl her fingers from the edge of the comforter, offering a single one in the tiniest of high fives.

❝ don't let vivi worry, okay? it's really not that bad, ❞ she murmurs in a heavy breath, trying to give a chuckle. it's not the most convincing performance -- feeling seconds away from passing out -- but nami knows she can depend on usopp to understand anyway.

#( omg the brain loop de loop of having to write a canon character who speaks another language KLASDF HOPE THIS IS OKAY THO ) #( STILL TRYING HER OUT ) #( LOVE THESE BESTIES SM EXCITED FOR THEM ) #fatescattered #( c: nami ) #( v: one piece )

[apaise]

‘I need you to trust me. like I’m trusting you.’ aisling @ em

for all aisling’s kindness and bravery in trying to help her escape, emily’s last crumbs of grace go out the window at that statement. it’s very hard for her to bear the accusation whilst she’s the one standing behind bars. ❝ trusting me? ❞ emily jabs a finger into her own chest, furious to be so implicated when she’s undeniably the victim. ❝ i don’t think it’s a very difficult thing to have to trust a hostage, ❞ she rolls her eyes. ❝ what in the hells could i do that would require you to -- ❞ 

suddenly, emily’s eyes catch on the deep, jagged lines slashed into the stone walls. when the soldiers had been dragging her into the cell, she had woken up at the last minute -- raging, seeing red, unaware if she tore into marble or flesh, bone as the bear took over.

perhaps aisling has every reason not to trust her, after all. 

mouth still open mid-shout, emily closes it with some embarrassment. she smooths her hand over her skirts, but then . . . remembering they’re not the usual fine material she’s used to, her fingers jump back as if burnt, fiercely unsoothed. ❝ . . . fine, ❞ she concedes, tone only a shadow of her previous confidence. she musters up her little nerves to look aisling back in the eye. ❝ you can trust me, ❞ she promises, but even emily would have a hard time believing that after being so thoroughly scolded. she shakes her head, half-attempting a jape. ❝ i would hardly attack the person who brought me scented soap. i’m not a monster, ❞ she raises her brows, only for expression to soften after, the longer she regards her. aisling is not her enemy, she knows; in fact, aisling’s the only person in this godsforsaken place who has shown her a scrap of human decency. 

❝ . . .  i’m sorry, ❞ emily relents at last, stalling before taking one step closer to the bars. ❝ i've just never been without a proper bath. or bed. or linen. for this long. ❞ damn it, she turned the conversation back to herself again; she’s never been good at apologies. ❝ but i know -- i know it’s no small risk you’re taking. both with me, and the darkling. ❞ she confesses to aisling. perhaps it was easier to yell at her than to feel so incredibly indebted. emily had always taken pride in being independent, supporting herself, relying on no one. now she would forever owe aisling her freedom, and . . . that was no easy pill to swallow. she clears her throat, uncomfortable in this sudden vulnerability. 

❝ have you . . . taken measures to protect yourself? ❞ as much as she’d like to swear she has control over her other form . . . it’d be safer if aisling had some means of escape for herself alone.  @fatescattered

#( WAS MISSING THIS DUO honestly this scenario was ELITE our BRAINS so big ) #( poor aisling :)) SHE'S BRAVE AND STRONG THO alksjdf facing even human emily ) #fatescattered #( c: emily ) #( v: grishaverse )

[apaise]

❛ i’ll be your date for that christmas party if you don’t have one yet. ❜ mari @ nari

band practice has always been a kind of safe haven for nari. for someone who isn’t exactly the greatest with words -- those few hours of just settling into a groove with her friends and vibing off each others’ music are practically sacrosanct. but more than that, she gets to spend time with marisol completely uninhibited by the interruptions of school bells and annoying peers. it isn’t easy when her best friend draws crowds like moths to a flame, people always wanting mari’s coveted opinion on the latest fashion or music. but nari would be fine with taking a step back on campus, knowing she could be as selfish as she wanted in the practice room. 

as she trudges down the stairs to chrissy’s basement now, she spots the all-too-familiar curls peeking out from behind the corner, a small smile already forming on her lips. there’s a song she’s been wanting to show mari since this morning, knowing she’d appreciate the keyboard shred. right as she’s about to approach, however -- nari recognizes the voice piping up from the couch. 

shauna’s here. again. 

instantly, nari’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach. 

at first, she had actually been happy someone recognized mari’s talent in the band, her position sometimes more easily overlooked. she understood shauna’s admiration. but after shauna started showing up more and more -- not just to their shows, but to their practice too -- that kindred understanding melted into something hotter, pricklier, sour. nari felt like she had to fight for marisol’s attention in a time that should’ve been been just for them . . .  and worse, she had the sinking feeling that shauna knew it. sheseemed to revel in the challenge, better equipped to lavish gifts and praise on marisol. that was never nari’s strong suit. 

as mari laughs at another one of shauna’s heavy-handed compliments, nari slinks off alone, setting up in the corner and cursing gwen for bailing again. she shoves on her headphones, turning up the volume until it’s nearly earsplitting. before she can even bitterly take out her bass, however -- marisol soon joins her at her side, startling nari as she takes the spot on her left. she must’ve seen her come in. that should be comforting enough, to be noticed, but the jealousy doesn’t dissipate that fast. she wonders why mari was laughing, what they had been talking about, how long shauna is going to stay . . . all the stupid, petty things that nari never used to care about before meeting marisol.

it takes her a moment to get out of her head, but then she realizes what mari’s just offered.  ❝ really?❞ a flicker of a smile starts before she can smother it, the happiness all too evident; mari’s the only one who could coax warmth from nari this early in the day.

she hadn’t even been thinking about dates for chrissy’s christmas party with it still two weeks away, but maybe she should’ve been, knowing the mari fanatic she’s up again. ❝ i thought you’d already have one, ❞ nari teases, eyes shifting to the mountain of cupcakes shauna laid out for marisol ( she’d say it’s for all of them, but at this point everyone knows the truth ). @fatescattered

#( HAD TO DO THIS ONE AFTER WE TALKED ABOUT THEM but i'm dead nari became such a sad wet cat in this i'm gone lakjsd f) #( ALSO I RANDOMLY REMEMBERED THAT ORIGINALLY MARI WAS SUPPOSED TO END UP WITH CHARLIE i'm so gone ) #( LOVE THESE GIRLIES THO ) #( c: nari ) #fatescattered

[apaise]

beth remembers the first time elinor had introduced her to her birds. chrissy had asked beth to deliver some intel to general frey on her behalf -- too embarrassed to meet elinor herself after some drunken exchange at the last victory soirée. yet beth had been all too happy to be of some use to her sister, the least she could do whilst ash and chrissy fought valiantly in the field. a guard directed beth to the darkling's chambers, where she was bid to wait till elinor returned from her meeting. she would've lingered obediently in the drawing room if one of the doors hadn't been opened a crack, the sweetest breeze from the balcony begging her outside.

the balcony was a nice reprieve from the dark majesty of elinor's cool chambers, all fresh air and falling petals. yet even better was the company of the bluebirds, plump little minstrels perched at the branches and trilling bright harmonies. they seemed to have found a very good home in this particular balcony, with the currants and blueberries winding at the stone providing ample food. the dip in the stone made a cozy, makeshift birdbath too; curiously, it was filled to the brim with water despite there being no rain the previous days.

it was then that beth realized they were tenant, not visitors, and that their keeper must be none other than elinor herself. beth was discovered on the balcony shortly after, embarrassed to have been caught snooping and yet impossibly warmed by what she found. it was difficult to conceal her delight, forgetting her sister's assignment and soon asking elinor all about her feathery friends. elinor had seemed caught off-guard by the questioning at first, but bit by bit, she began to open up.

she looked so different that day, bathed in sunlight, smile soft as she would indulge the bluebirds in their little battles for her affection. beth nearly felt like joining in the fray, suddenly yearning too for the attention of her gentle words and handling. that image had seared itself into beth's heart, how fragile and yet truly happy elinor had seemed in that moment.

it makes these instances where she looks so worn and weary all the harder for beth to witness, wishing she could do something to help, wishing she could save her. but the heroics in the family had always been saved for chrissy and ash, the doers, the lionhearts, protecting ravka while beth would sit at home twiddling her thumbs in a small chair beside her mother.

something about elinor makes beth want to try, however.

hearing her so downcast about her friends left at home already has beth attempting to lend a hand, speaking before she has a moment to think it through. ❝ oh -- if you'd like -- ❞ slowly she realizes what she's offering, a blush swiftly heating her face as she continues on anyway. ❝ i'd be happy to look in on them and write to you. ❞ she can hear her mother's cluck of disapproval from here, and yet how nice it would be, to write to elinor about her birds, about anything. ❝ if that doesn't sound too silly, ❞ she adds after with a sheepish chuckle, knowing how chrissy would tease her for offering to petsit for the darkling. but beth didn't see elinor as half as imperious as she used to, not anymore.

she's astonished to hear elinor may be stuck here for weeks more, always seeming to forget what different lives they live. yet more than being disappointed she wouldn't be able to visit elinor as easily in the distance ( though she was, sorely ) . . . beth also feels rather disheartened for her sake. weeks spent constantly on the road, away from one's own bed, the haven where elinor could truly unwind . . . beth shakes her head. ❝ i'm so sorry. i hope everything settles very soon, so you may have some proper rest, ❞ she gives elinor a small smile of contrition, wishing she could do more.

she hadn't expected her query to be returned, few often interested in the comings and goings of the third princess. ❝ oh. i'm -- not sure, ❞ she starts, trying to find the right words without speaking too much on her own futility. ❝ i don't often stay for very long. ❞ there isn't much for her to do, really -- but beth doubts the camps could ever seem dull with elinor here. that's too much to confess, too soon, however, and she fiddles with the lace at her cuff as she searches for something else to say.

❝ perhaps if i can find something to help with. ❞ beth would very much like to offer her hand to elinor, but . . . it seems preposterous for someone as inexperienced as herself to volunteer her services to the general of the second army.

@apaise​​​ | ( continued. )

elinor would be lying if she said there wasn’t a small part of her that enjoyed the terrified look on the soldiers’ faces. there was once a time where she resented the way people kept her distance, avoiding her eyes but keeping her name on their lips as they whispered behind her back. with years of practice, she’s learned to accept it as a sign of power.

yet, for all the times elinor has reveled in her solitude, she finds she’s come to enjoy having beth at her side. the princess, despite her timid air, did not shy away from her as others did. she was always graceful and sweet when addressing even the darkling – never fearing her dark armor or the blood on her hands.

elinor wishes she was half as brave and dared to show beth all of her. the idea of her toll of death and destruction proving too much for the princess makes her breath falter, weak when faced with the possibility of finally losing something she holds dear.

despite her resolve to steel her features around the crown’s army, they soften easily at beth’s quiet remark. she holds elinor in too high regard – it’s addictive and dangerous, the darkling realizes as she attempts to will the warmth in her chest to go away. never did she want to be seen so desperately, knowing it could cost her everything.

she almost points out beth is the only one to think it a loss, but deems it a disservice to the other’s kindness. elinor gives a smile and a grateful bow of her own head instead. what must the soldiers see when they watch them from afar? two dignitaries exchanging pleasantries? would they be able to spot elinor’s subtle fidgeting, suppressing the urge to take the princess’s hand in her own?

brows raise at the remark that follows, surprised beth mentioned the bluebirds. it had been an afternoon in equal parts lovely and terrifying, with elinor offering her a secret so close to her heart. no one knew of her birds, not even her father. it was something she had always believed she’d carry to her grave, a softness she was not allowed. yet beth didn’t even spare it a moment of judgment – and there’s nothing if not gentless in her features when elinor dares meet her eyes now.

“ – i miss them dearly as well, ” she confesses, voice low and tentative. “ they’re quite independent, but i do regret not being able to ask one of the maids to look after them. ” despite being otkazat'sya, harys could command fear into the royal staff as well as any grisha general. they’d tell him of anything they saw out of place – including elinor’s own behavior. she’s lucky she can pass her meetings with the princess as mere courtesy.

“ i may stay a few more weeks, depending on how everything goes. ” as far as everyone knows, the general is here to oversee operations regarding the recent fjerdan attacks on the northern border. her letters to her father will detail whether the search for the sun summoner has proved fruitful after hearing hushed reports of a nearby sighting.

“ and yourself, your highness? ” elinor turns the question to beth. “ i’m sure your sisters will be happy to see you, but the soldier camps may grow quite dull after a day or two. ” she reckons the princesses are allowed to leave their post based on status alone... but elinor finds herself selfishly wishing for stricter rules, if it allows her to accompany beth during her stay instead.

#( this is so long and makes a lot of assumptions about their first meetings alskjf I HOPE IT'S OKAY ) #( just started writing and then i was like oh wait lKJASDF BUT JUST KEPT GOING ANYWAY ) #( THE ELIBETH IS TOO CUTE THO ) #feveredblurs #( c: beth ) #( v: grishaverse )

[apaise]

❛ come back to bed. ❜ elinor @ ro (as compensation!)

she's always been a light sleeper. when the softest touch grazes her leg in her sleep, rowan snaps awake in a cold sweat; suddenly, she doesn't know whose arm is twined in hers. for six seconds, she's back in the menagerie again, choking on heavy incense, bells at her ankles, fake silks at her throat. she frees herself from the bed in a nimble hurry, needing to disentangle from the nightmares of the past. it's only when her feet touch the rug -- fine shu material, thick and supple, nothing like what she had back then -- does she fully wake and anchor herself in reality again.

she isn't back in ketterdam, back a slave. she's on a ship with elinor, sailing to noyvi zem in search of more information on the sea whip. it's always worse on a ship, surrounded by the creaking of wood all too reminiscent of the pleasure house. she'd much rather they be back at the little palace, tucked safely into that beautifully quiet stone.

she'd never say a word of this to elinor, however. as rowan glimpses back at her slowly stirring in bed ( her fault, she curses her weakness ), all red hair pooled beneath her, seraphic in repose, she feels incredibly foolish to have sprung from bed like a child dreaming of monsters. she's safe now, elinor had made sure of that. and if there's one person's strength to trust, it would be the shadow summoner, the general of the second army, the second in command of all ravka. so why couldn't she let that sink into her stupid skull?

she doesn't have much time before elinor will completely wake, knowing they're both quick to stir at the slightest shift in atmosphere. rowan swiftly reaches for the pitcher at the wash basin, pouring water onto the cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow. the temperature of the water had grown icy in the night, but it's a welcome excuse for the gooseflesh prickling at her skin. she'd hate to return to elinor smelling of cowardice; for everything elinor's done for her, she should be the perfect companion.

elinor's soft voice rises above the faint plash of water then; funny how different a sentence can sound when it comes from someone you actually like. rowan sloughs off the nightmares like a ratty cloak slipping to the floor as she turns back to her, charming smile snapping into place.

❝ oh. good morning. ❞ she wastes no time closing their distance, faithfully returning to the bedside where she belongs. she reaches for elinor's hand resting at the sheets, bringing it to her lips in gentle greeting. ❝ i didn't mean to disturb your beauty sleep, ❞ she chuckles against her skin before glancing at her with a teasing gaze. ❝ though from the looks of it . . . another minute and you may be in danger of completely confounding your troops. we can't have that. ❞ it's only half a joke that some of the soldiers are already besotted; rowan sees the way they look at elinor, fears of being replaced all too rampant. @feveredblurs

#( all the eliro talk had me craving the ANGSTTT love them so much ) #( both caring so much but refusing to put their armor down...it's so tragic ) #feveredblurs #( c: rowan ) #( v: grishaverse )

[apaise]

heartsechoed​:

in retrospect, perhaps this had been a foolish move. gideon assumes the girl had volunteered for this job, rather than being politely forced to pitch in. it would be more likely that she didn’t want to be there any more than the second army wanted to be served by her. logic ( and his fellow fabrikators ) tell him he’ll be met with a scowl and poor service, especially after the little stunt with the armored dummy earlier     but after seeing the first army soldier’s discouraged expression, gideon can’t help but want to meet her halfway and acknowledge her efforts.

if no one else will work towards her, he will take the first step     the only step, if it comes to that.

against every voice painting a horrible outcome in his head, gideon is met with a smile. the girl greets him as she would a friend, kind and warm. she doesn’t seem to mind their uniforms from opposite sides or the previous cruelty from his peers. she appears bright and unshakable, and her radiance has gideon awestruck for a moment. he’s only crossed paths with few first army soldiers since he enlisted, yet none had ever looked at him with such an open expression.

her voice chimes as a reminder that he’s staring, likely obvious in his wide-eyed amazement. gideon smiles in return, sympathetic to her plight. it takes courage to stand before a whole army who wants her gone; gideon’s certain he would’ve given up on them, were he in her shoes. the softness in her features tells him her actions are not without struggle, however     that standing at an empty booth and have her kindness ignored is a blow nonetheless.

the claim that she’s happy to have gideon around to speak to almost makes him laugh. it’s a statement only a stranger could make; the grisha who share a workshop with him would want nothing more than silence from him     but gideon won’t bore her with his complaints against the crown or the rants about his work. “ don’t take it personally, ” he offers with a sheepish smile of his own. “ they would’ve done the same with any other first army soldier. ” no matter how helpful and charming she was, it wouldn’t change his peers’ minds.

his attention shifts to the food. after having stayed at training camps quite a few times, gideon’s used to the bland army food by now     yet there’s something different today. he’s not versed enough in cooking to pinpoint what exactly, but the smoked fish has a richer smell to it, the vegetables a more vibrant color. the army never changes their recipes, nor can gideon spot these differences at the other booths… which must mean it was her who added a little something to the menu.

the girl is meticulous in the way she serves his food and picks which apple to give him. this is a job the soldiers normally hate having to do; it’s a much appreciated change of pace to have someone at the helm who actually cares about any of this. “ thank you. ” gideon waits for her to finish setting everything up, watching attentively as she adds more seasoning right on the spot. perhaps it’s experimental on her part, but gideon is curious about the result nonetheless. it will surely be different from anything the second army has ever served him.

“ this looks great. ” he would’ve complimented her hard work regardless, on effort alone     but after seeing her face light up as she prepared the food, gideon finds himself meaning every word. “ if no one else takes it, it’s their loss, ” gideon adds with a wider smile, adjusting the book tucked under his arm so he can hold everything securely. “ more for me. ” he doubts the full tray will leave him hungry, but he could very well be left wanting more.

“ thanks again. ” his head bows in gratitude once again, soft expression in lieu of a goodbye. it’s only after walking a few steps that gideon looks back and flashes her another smile. “ and good luck. ”

ever since her childhood, ally’s been curious about grisha -- compelled by their abilities that set them so far apart from the rest. yet now . . . standing before this fabrikator and wondering his name and his story . . . she realizes the interest has nothing to do with his small science. she could be meeting him in a marketplace in ketterdam, and he could be sporting a coat instead of a kefta, and ally would have been drawn to him all the same.

he’s unlike anyone she’s met in the army before: unafraid of going against the tides, and yet undeniably kind. when he continues to encourage her now, there’s a moment where ally wonders if she looks as crestfallen as she feels ( despite her fervent attempt to bury it ). but then she realizes his reassurance is his own compassion too, extended to her regardless, and ally smiles again.

❝ but not you, ❞ she chuckles, adding without thinking, and then -- feeling a little embarrassed by it. but ally’s certain that he would’ve come to help any other first army soldier in her situation, his goodwill without requirements.

it’s foolish to think that she could know what he’s like when they’ve only just met and exchanged a handful of words, but . . . ally had spent years at her uncle’s bookshop, glancing at a myriad of customers from behind the shelves. and this man seems like the type to help children reach the books from the tall ledges, to carry a bag for someone else’s grandmother, to help her uncle pick up fallen papers from his desk.

momentarily absorbed with her work at hand, ally’s surprised when he suddenly speaks and thanks her. even working in the medic’s tent in the first army, she could patch up someone’s injury without them passing a scrap of gratitude. for ally, knowing she helped was meaningful enough, but . . . a moment of recognition is always something to be treasured. never did she think it would come when merely serving food in the second army camp, however.

❝ of course, ❞ she returns once the astonishment fades, beaming up at him. ❝ it’s my pleasure. ❞ it truly has been. strangely, he’s been so generous that she almost feels as if she’s back at her uncle’s shop, dealing with the longtime customers there who would always spare an extra minute, waiting with ally while she wrapped their purchases in paper.

his simple defense of her work ( seasoned with another light jab towards his peers ) makes ally laugh in surprise again, and then sheepishness. ❝ you’re too kind, ❞ she shakes her head; perhaps that would hide her complete admiration.

ally hadn’t noticed the book under his arm till he reaches for it now, but then she’s struck by a cover she actually recognizes -- the silver filigree leaf on the spine unmistakable. it’s the third part in a botany series covering plants from all over the world ( and ally just so happens to have the fourth in her own tent . . . ). before she can comment on that, however, he steps away, reminding ally it would’ve been rude to interrupt his meal.

❝ any time, ❞ she returns warmly, suddenly wishing she would have more shifts in the second army camp, no matter the stares to be endured. there’s more ally wishes to say but it all sounds like too much, so she can only watch on as he walks away, hoping he’d at least enjoy the meal. when he turns back, she feels as if her lingering gaze has been caught -- stunned for a moment in embarrassment. but in all his grace he doesn't react to that, instead merely smiling and wishing her luck. ❝ thank you, ❞ ally returns as she smiles back, this time the one to bow her head. although she had been the one to serve him food, she feels like he’s the one who left her full after their conversation.

unfortunately, the rest of the hour isn’t a third as pleasant. no one else bothers to come to her table, with ally instead reflecting on her botany book just to pass the time, quizzing herself on the genetics and ecology ( with new quiet inspiration ). he never returns to her booth either, but ally feels childish to have hoped -- she had given him more than enough portions to begin with, and he was probably busy with his own work. fabrikators are responsible for keeping the training equipment and artillery in good shape after all, their work the foundation of camps like these ( she keeps repeating that in her head while packing away the untouched food for the slop bin ).

when second army soldiers do finally appear at her station later on -- it’s to deliver towers of food-splotched trays at the table, collected from their own booths. “you don’t mind, do you?” an inferni asks with brows scrunched in faux contrition, while her friends barely manage to hold back their laughs. “it’s just we’re so busy--and the first army’s so good with this side of work.”

with hours still left on her shift in their camp, there’s no point in ally fighting. so she gives a polite smile, accepting the work regardless of their attitude. ❝ it’s no trouble at all, ❞ she nods, surprising them for a moment -- but they continue the facade with their oily etiquette, graciously piling the trays on her cart. ally pushes the cart inside the tent after, hoping against hope that she’d be able to finish it in time.

just as she’s started loading trays into the first wash bin, someone enters the tent. ally winces as she looks up, a silent prayer that they haven’t come back with even more work, given her easy surrender. but instead of it being the same group from before, it’s the durast who visited her before.

❝ oh, ❞ ally blinks, relief and delight immediately replacing the dread. ❝ hello again. ❞ she brushes her soapy hands on her apron on instinct, suddenly a little sheepish ( and then embarrassed for her situation ). ❝ is there something i can help with?  ❞

#( old draft but GOOD CONTENT gid and his food service girl ) #( i still die at him almost laughing at her saying he's good company gid pls aklsjdfsdf ) #( i forgot how much intricate plotting we put into this too we leave no crumbs every time ) #( love these fcs still tooo ) #heartsechoed #( c: ally ) #( v: grishaverse )

[apaise]

❛ i heard that you’re happier ❜ ro @ isi

years ago, these kinds of after parties used to excite isi. with so many indie artists mingling and even putting on small, intimate performances, she would feel inspired by the amount of talent compressed into the room, catching glimmers of muse for her next song. now isi just feels lonely, miles away from everyone clinking plastic cups and baking pizza rolls in the kitchen. they don't look at her like they did before, with all encouragement and warm words. now she's the girl they see in the morning talk shows and the commercials for coconut water, another sellout who's lost all artistic sense. they wonder why she's even here, and she can't help but wonder the same.

she can be happy nate seems to be having fun at least, making quick friends with another guitarist on the couch as they exchange maintenance tips. isi used to think it was easy to socialize -- second nature for her to entertain others. but something strange happened once she met nat . . . as if all these years without ro she had just been operating on autopilot. and once she was around people like nat and nate who actually cared about her more than what she could give . . . isi realized how tired and isolated she really was.

as if somehow hearing her thoughts, nate suddenly glances up from his conversation and makes eye contact with isi from across the room, expression turning worried. while his new friend's distracted trying one of the tricks he just learned, nate gestures for her to come over and join them. isi feels guilty for ruining his fun, quickly putting on a bright smile and mouthing that she's just hungry, gesturing for him to stay and she'll get some snacks from the kitchen first.

slipping away from her friend's caring view, isi finds a more secluded spot by the sound system, loud but unintrusive. she sits gingerly sipping a beer and learning the pattern of color flashes on the walls, mildly surprised it isn't just the order of the rainbow. purple, pink, red . . .

amidst her buzzed amusement, she hears a greeting muffled by the booming of the bass on her left. isi turns, only to find herself suddenly gazing up at the face she's been running from for seven years.

it's like all those memories isi had kept locked in a box just burst free and converged before her, tantalizingly real and yet too good to be true. the room sways as isi drinks her in, all dark and gentle as she remembers her, black brows, black lashes, soft lips, soft eyes, hair still dangling in her face, always tempting you to push it back. had she grown taller since high school? or had isi just been trying everything she could to diminish the weight of her?

❝ hey ro, ❞ her voice goes as weak as her knees as ro takes the seat beside her, now closer and yet no less a dream. six years ago isi would've known exactly what to say; she had it all written down somewhere, all the hurt and apologies. but she couldn't remember a word of it now -- she barely remembers who she is beyond her new image.

❝ what? ❞ ro's tone is still gentle with her, but there's a look of almost betrayal that isi recognizes from the last time they saw each other, that sting. and then isi remembers that nate is here, and realizes the rumors ro must've heard. ❝ wait, it's not what you think. ❞ again, there's echoes from the words in their last fight, and isi feels her head pulsing.

as time went by and they grew further and further apart, isi had grown too scared to imagine what their reunion would be like, knowing ro would be disappointed in her ( she was disappointed, too ). but to be in the corner of a party where she could barely hear ro, surrounded by mostly strangers . . . this can't be it. she stands up, flustered, nearly stumbling. ❝ can we go somewhere? please? ❞ ( @feveredblurs )

#( THERE WAS AN ATTEMPT ALSKJDFLKAJSDF ) #( i'm not sure if this is messy cuz FIRST TIME WITH ISI or messy cuz they're just a mess but LKJASDF STILL ) #( excited for them nevertheless 🥺 ) #( HOPE THE NATE GODMODDING IS OKAY ) #( the angsttttttttt ) #feveredblurs #( c: isi )

[apaise]

❛  you  owe  me  dinner .  i’ll  settle  for  tacos !    ❜ steph @ ella

when she first heard that jo and will had never been to an ocean park before, ella made it a top priority to squeeze a trip into the camp's schedule ( maddy graciously permitting the change ). it was slightly out of budget but with her father busier than usual, he didn't notice the extra charges to the maplewood account. and for once his assistant turned a blind eye to ella's antics, no doubt intending for ella to return the favor some time. yet ella didn't care about the tacit stipulations, too excited for the campers to have this special day at the atlantis cove.

she was supposed to be one of the chaperones on the bus, but unfortunately duty called, and chat noir was needed in the city. she would have to catch up with everyone later, claiming to have a meeting with her father in the meanwhile.

it was business as usual out in hell's kitchen, but as soon as ella could catch her breath . . she noticed she missed about 37 calls on her cellphone. three from quinn, the rest from maddy; apparently the bus had started smoking about an hour into the trip. the calls from maddy were a panicked frenzy while quinn's were much calmer, telling her they were handling it and not to worry. the third call from quinn shared that steph had diagnosed the issue -- probably making some joke about being a bus nurse too, knowing her. ella felt an immense wave of relief as quinn told her everything was back on schedule, and to just meet them at atlantis cove.

when ella arrives, the campers seem to be doing just fine, unaffected by the little scare earlier. after thanking quinn and maddy, ella searches for steph, needing to express her gratitude. she eventually finds their savior with some of the cubs at the penguin sanctuary, keeping everyone bright smiles with her jokes. while the kids go to watch a short film about global warming and its effects on penguins, ella takes the opportunity to catch steph alone, telling her she completely saved the day. it's only when she speaks she hears how anxious she had been. but if they hadn't been able to make it to the park, ella doesn't know how she would've managed to fool her dad with the billing a second time.

owing someone dinner isn't a first for ella. in order to secure some of the nicer equipment at camp maplewood, she's used her family name to get vendors into michelin star restaurants like the red orchid. but it's the first time someone's ever requested tacos. the unexpectedness of it has ella blinking, and then laughing. perhaps more than such a joke would usually warrant, but after such a stressful day wracked with pent-up worries, it feels good to laugh.

❝ that's a very reasonable hero's fee, ❞ she nods, still chuckling. ❝ tacos it is then. ❞ luckily, they happen to serve all sorts of tacos at atlantis cove. ❝ . . . i think they have something called 'the whale' here, ❞ she muses in remembering. as a kid she had always wanted to try the 14-inch taco food challenge, but neither her father or her chaperones would ever let her. ❝ it's supposed to be for only the biggest taco enthusiasts. ❞

#( I'M SORRY GABI SOMETHING ABOUT THIS LINE JUST CALLED OUT TO ME IT'S THE TACOS I'M SORRY ) #( continued our streak of the supposedly noncanon couple LKJASDFASDFSADF I'M SORRYYY ) #( LOVE THEM THO.. ) #( hope the godmodding is okay!! lmk if it needs any tweaks! ) #heartsechoed #( c: ella )

[apaise]

❛ i guess something about you, you drink. you guess something about me, i drink.❜ ro @ mal

she noticed something was off the moment they entered the hotel room, ro immediately taking the cushy armchair. mal's only officially known her for three weeks but she knows ro isn't an armchair person. she'll always take the corner of the couch, ready for lexi to doze off on her shoulder or for pedro to dump a mountain of snacks between them to share. for all those interviews that love to paint ro as some distant lone wolf . . . mal had come to see how warm ro really is, always deeply in tune with those around her.

so it's immediately jarring to feel so rejected the night of mal joining the band. with pedro and lexi off to grab some midnight dinner from the corner store, mal's left to take the couch alone, wondering what she did for ro to act so different. to most eyes it would seem perfectly normal, even cozy. ro's been nothing but sweet, even fixing mal her favorite mini bar cocktail ( something she's done many times before, sneaking mal up to her room, but . . . never when it's their room ). but mal could feel the distance between them like a block of ice, knowing all too well two weeks ago they'd be sitting on the couch together, her finger circling ro's knee while drinks would wait forgotten.

maybe she messed up by joining the band. maybe it's too much for ro, too fast. she hates to think that she's ruined things by invading ro's life without her permission -- she just wanted to play music together. if she knew this was going to happen, she would've never accepted lexi's offer -- she had just assumed it had come with ro's full approval.

but with ro trying so hard to make mal feel welcome now, it doesn't seem like the right time to talk about the arrangement. they've all already had a few drinks at the gig before to boot, and with them still waiting on lexi and pedro with the food . . . better keep things light. more than mal's hurt uncertainty, she doesn't want press ro when she seems to be struggling too.

the suggested game is ordinary enough, but it's missing their usual undercurrent of teasing. ❝ hm . . . that sounds like an excuse to knock you on your back first. ❞ there's a brief pause where another more flirtatious line would typically follow, but mal just smiles. ❝ but i'm game. ❞ they both know mal would know more basic facts with her being a fan of aurora syndrome before, but she'd try for more daring guesses than what could be found in the magazines.

❝ i feel like . . . ❞ she gazes at ro, head's swimming from the beer earlier ( and no warm hands to guide her for once ). ❝ . . . some of your teachers really liked you. ❞ she mumbles in all earnest sincerity; maybe that's too easy, who wouldn't like ro? ❝ i could see you as one of those quiet, secret genius kids who rock out those banger theses every now and then, ❞ she chuckles, wonder what it would've been like to know ro back then. they would've hung out in different circles, mal more concerned with her reputation back then, but -- maybe in some dark corner at a party, they would've crossed paths. it would've been simpler than their current arrangement. @feveredblurs

#( THIS WAS SUCH A LIGHT ONE BUT I WENT A LIL ANGSTY ON IT because i wanted to make it diff than the previous flirty one i'm sorry :| ) #( THE DRAMA THOUGH poor girlies trying to figure it all out ) #( not sure if that guess was right LKAJSKDFJ BUT IG THATS THE GAME ) #( the brainrot continues ) #feveredblurs #( c: mal )

[apaise]

Grace Van Dien and Reina Hardesty in What Comes Around (2022) dir. Amy Redford

#( cleo & izzie . )

[apaise]

❛  i  would  remember  a  face  like  yours . ❜ ro @ mal

it's her fourth week of subbing in for the guitarist of velvet underground and already mal's grown a little tired of the band. while she gets along well enough with the bassist and drummer . . . their vocalist seems to have a meltdown almost every other night about the set list or the venue or even her outfit. so in the middle of their last song of the night, mal begins to strategize her smooth exit from the band, piecing together some excuse that wouldn't leave egos too bruised.

yet as her fingers trace the frets in all zealous muscle memory, lazy regard drifting over the roaring crowd . . . her eyes find another's at the back of the fray, tucked near the bar. from the distance, mal can't make out the specifics, the other shrouded in the pulsing red lights overhead ( short hair, leather jacket, carved jaw, relaxed posture ) . . . but she feels the pull of her gaze all the same, something magnetizing even from thirty feet away.

mal's eyes don't leave hers for the remainder of the performance, the draw of the stranger's attention keeping her enthralled. when it's time for an encore, mal finds herself relieved for it; her fingers lock onto the guitar as she works to redeem her earlier performance for her friend at the bar. by the third and final song, mal's forehead glistens with sweat and her fingers ache, but she's satisfied with her last show -- grateful to those dark eyes for that last spark of inspiration.

after the band exchanges the usual compliments and critiques in the backroom, mal stashes her resignation speech for now, taking on more pressing priorities. she peels off her sweaty tee and dips back into the crowd in her tank top in search of her muse. luckily, she isn't too hard to find; unluckily, she's already surrounded by other eager girls.

it's now standing ten feet away that mal actually recognizes her -- no wonder she had been captivated even with fifty rowdy people between them before. the bassist from aurora syndrome is a force all on her own. mal had seen them live before they became too big for seedy bars, but she still remembers how she had been transfixed by the bassist's every electric pluck and slide. for someone like mal who has to work so hard at her music to be good, to be perfect -- instinctive geniuses like ro nuñez are spellbinding.

though it's a little embarrassing and humbling to be in the same position as so many bumbling, hopeful groupies, mal waits her turn, buying a drink. at one point, she worries ro will go home after the last batch of autographs, but then -- amidst a flood of compliments from one touchy fangirl -- ro seems to catch mal's eye and give her a smile.

all right, maybe she can wait a little longer.

it's less crowded by the time mal finally takes a seat beside ro, teasing her about the queue. when ro compliments her on her performance, mal tries not to melt, returning some flattery by admitting she's come to a few of aurora syndrome's bar concerts in the past.

❝ really? ❞ something about the way ro glances at her so decidedly, eyes heavy, has mal's head spinning more than the alcohol. she keeps steady, however, leaning in as she returns the look, knee brushing ro's. ❝ well . . . maybe i can give you something more memorable than just a face tonight, ❞ she smiles. if she's to keep up with the competition. @feveredblurs

#( YOUR ASK GAVE ME THE MUSE i'm like omg at mal though ) #( KEEP IT TOGETHER MAL ) #( SIMPIN SO HARD ALREADY ) #( I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC THOUGH IT'S CUTE ) #feveredblurs #( c: mal )

[apaise]

❛ it’s a bad idea, right? ❜ ash @ maddy

with the girl scouts' international festival happening in just two weeks, maddy had been even busier than usual, coordinating with various troops across the county in hopes of making this the best carnival yet. but she would've been swallowed by the mountains of binders and papier-mâché by week one if it wasn't for ash helping her every step of the way.

ash's creative eye was absolutely essential in organizing the festival brochure in a colorful yet streamlined way ( not maddy's strongpoint ). maddy made certain to include ash's name in bold font on the front so everyone could see, while also making sure to update ash's resume accordingly, not wanting any of her incredible accomplishments to be forgotten.

but even if her girlfriend was just sequestered in the corner sketching or reading comics while maddy drafted the event map or vendor list, ash had truly become a crucial part of maddy's every day life. she had a special way of re-centering maddy amidst the chaos, ushering her away from the spirals of self-criticism. ash could spot the beginnings of a maddy fisher breakdown from a mile away, and she'd take the troop leader out for a soft pretzel in the park for some much needed sunshine, or suggest they bake cookies for the youth center. all of maddy's favorite things, not ash's, but maddy treasured the support much more than she could fit on a measly hallmark card.

she didn't know how she functioned without ash before, but she was determined to thank her girlfriend properly. luckily, with all ash's help, maddy had realized they were ahead of schedule, and she could just about manage four nights off before the big palooza. for those precious days before the festival, maddy had planned a getaway at the maplewood camping grounds. no binders, no phone calls, no posterboards; they could even bring benny. admittedly, it wouldn't be easy for maddy to relax like that, but she owed ash, and she wanted to try. she was excited for it, to make new memories somewhere beautiful where ash could burn and fish and draw to her heart's content.

but as they wind down for the night and maddy readies to finally tell ash about her big surprise, ash has something to share first.

maddy hears the word tour and for a second, there's just a ringing sound in her ears, pulsating through her head and flooding out all other thought. then pieces of her voice start filtering through one by one, words like "stadium" and "san francisco" and "plane" and "months," striking, echoing. oh no no no no no. no, maddy hadn't even been able to tell her about their trip; no, was this punishment for forcing ash to stick beside her all these weeks? panic and regret slog over whatever sentences are forming in maddy's mind, mushing them into silence.

but then maddy focuses her gaze on ash and she notices how small and hesitant and anxious she looks, and her hands go for ash's without another thought.

❝ bad idea? ❞ she repeats, squeezing her hands selfishly not merely for comfort, but to keep herself rooted too; she feels ash is about to float away before her. ❝ ash, it sounds amazing. you can't pass this up! ❞ maddy shakes her hands lightly, bit by bit feeling her strength return. this isn't about her, or even them; it's about ash and how she lights up in front of her drums. ❝ the world needs to hear your music! hillford can't keep you all to itself, ❞ she grins, and it's surprising how easy it is to reassure her. but these are all things maddy has always believed ( she just never expected the cost ).

❝ you're going to have so much fun, ash, ❞ her smile softens; she quickly teases herself before the tears can start. ❝ take lots of pictures for me, okay? we have to make a tour scrapbook when you get back. ❞ @feveredblurs

#( me writing this being like tee hee gotta throw in one of those lil dramatic moments where someone was planning smth secretly ) #( but i honestly did not expect maddy to be so sad like :| usually she'd just be super pumped for ash LKJASDF ) #( BUT SHE REALLY DOES LOVE HER AND HAS GROWN USED TO HAVING HER ) #( DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH SHE RELIES ON HER ) #( SHE'S HAPPY FOR HER THO ) #feveredblurs #( c: maddy ) #( answered . )