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alionne · 3 years

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5 | Deliberate (free write)

Sequel to Scale, because my brain really didn’t want to stop thinking about this. Spoilers for Stormblood. Cursing and flirting but no smut... yet. 3284 words.

He hears her coming, of course.

Estinien had heard her the first time, too, with the pugilist girl, one of the Scions he hadn’t met. Not that he needed to meet any more of them, mind you. The ones he’d encountered were bad enough.

‘Bad’ may not be the right word, he admits to himself, but he’d already helped them on this little trip, there was no need to start doling out compliments, too.

If anything, the cannon had been a welcome challenge. He doesn’t miss killing dragons, nor the rage surging through him each time he fought, but… he is the Azure Dragoon. He has power, and though he’d been trying to direct that power in a peaceable direction, lately, it’s pleasing when problems can be solved with his lance alone.

Of course, the problem with power is that there are all too many parties with an interest in how you use it. The cannon was one thing—what was he supposed to do, just let them all get shot to death?—but linger too long and he’d soon be on the receiving end of a tedious speech about duty and the future of Eorzea, and then he’d have to watch Alphinaud’s disappointment when he turned him down. And then probably sit through another lecture, because the boy was stubborn as all hell.

No, Estinien had come to Gyr Abania for one thing—the eyes of Nidhogg, which were his responsibility, and had somehow floated up from below the Steps of Faith and ended up here. Somewhere.

So he was lying low. After dodging the Imperials’ bullets, he’d set for the highest landmark he could find—an ancient ship, whose origins he did not know. It was a passable hideout, particularly since some ancient guardian attacked him as he approached. Estinien had dispatched it easily enough, but it fought with a ferocity that suggested that commoners and soldiers alike would avoid this place.

But of course, not a day later, he’d heard someone climbing the cliff—his cliff, he’d thought, stubbornly. Whoever it was was talking too loudly to be searching for an errant dragoon, though. Tucked away behind the ruined vessel, he’d waited until it seemed they were facing away, then stole a look.

Of course it was her. Who else would turn up on the very rock Estinien was hiding if not the bloody Warrior of Light, accompanied by yet another Scion of the Seventh Dawn? Still, they weren’t looking for him. They’d probably come to inspect the Garlean outpost and figure out why it wasn’t firing at them. If Estinien stayed out of sight, they’d figure it out soon enough and leave him be.

He hadn’t chanced a second look. Alionne was too bloody perceptive, sometimes, and who knew what powers the other girl had. Still, he could hear snippets of their conversation, when the wind was right— or rather, he could hear the one girl’s chatter, and then the occasional pause, when Alionne was presumably nodding in response.

She’d looked… quite lovely, he thought, mulling over his brief glance as he waited for them to leave. She’d exchanged her heavier Coerthan outfit for something more befitting the desert, and it revealed a great deal more of her form. She’d looked stronger, too, although mayhaps it was simply her outfit, exposing more muscle to admire. Still, even Estinien, who had been avoiding people for moons now, had heard of Doma’s miraculous rebellion. The whole thing reeked of Scion meddling, and where the Scions went, so too went the Warrior of Light, so she’d likely honed her skills on some far eastern magitek.

He’d love to examine her more… thoroughly. Certainly, their last dalliance suggested she’d be amenable, but a few conversations prior to his departure suggested that Aymeric had finally found his balls and was going to ask her out, properly. And while he was fairly sure he’d be welcome in that arrangement, it did mean she could lecture him on both the Scions’ and Ishgard’s behalf, and no potential dalliance was worth that mess.

It’s good to see her, though. Since leaving Ishgard, the only familiar face he’d seen was Hraesvaelgr's, and as… interesting as that encounter had been, there was a comfort in seeing his friends here, even if from a distance. Alphinaud, he’d spotted leaving the rubble of the tower, which was a relief, considering the carnage that had befallen it. And here is Alionne, equally uninjured. He’d done a good day’s work at Castrum Abania.

He hates to leave a job unfinished—that was what had led to him tramping all over Gyr Abania in the first place, unfinished business—so when the Scions finally leave Estinien’s rock, he lingers. No doubt, the imperials will be hard at work repairing their weapon. The Resistance seems savvy enough to press the advantage, but he’d like to see things ended for himself. Besides, if they successfully eliminate the outpost, the Resistance will claim the entire region, and Estinien will be able to leave more easily, dodging only one army, and a much less bloodthirsty one, at that.

So he keeps an eye to the south as he sets up a camp. Movement suggests repairs to the ceruleum pipeline are indeed underway, but the cannon barrel stays put. By mid-afternoon, Estinien is dozing slightly, which is why he’s caught off-guard when there’s suddenly a large hole in the glass window of the castrum’s command room. On instinct, he leaps to his feet, grabbing his lance, before he realizes that whatever’s happened, it’s hardly something he can leap off and address. He sits back down, watching the outpost more closely.

In the next few minutes, the small dots moving to and from the broken pipeline suddenly cease. They’ve stopped repairing the pipeline, then. Well, that’s as sure a sign as any that the Resistance have done something. Pushed someone out a window, it seems.

No further activity comes from the castrum as night falls, and Estinien slowly relaxes. The cannon is dealt with, so he can resume his search for the Eyes. He doesn’t know how much aether remains in them after such a powerful summoning, but he’s confident he’ll recognize their signature, no matter how faint. He’d sensed nothing from the Resistance camps, so they were probably in the hands of the Garleans—besides, if the Eorzean Alliance had found the Eyes of Nidhogg, Aymeric himself would probably have arrived by now, bloody guilt complex the man carries.

So, East, then, to occupied territory, where the Resistance themselves are no doubt headed. And, assuming he finds the Eyes, perhaps further East, after that. No Eorzean had seen anything like the great dragon summoned over Baelsar’s Wall, but Estinien had found a tome of Far Eastern lore depicting such creatures. With Eorzea’s dragon troubles mostly-sorted, Estinien might be more useful in other parts of the world.

It would be a nice change, too, from this endless desert. Even Coerthas was more than snow, once you got far enough out. This… he’d never begrudge the Ala Mhigans their homeland, but it could do with a bit more color. And Estinien had heard that the hot springs in Kugane rivaled those of Ishgard.

He’s nearly drifted off, imagining it, when a familiar sound brings him to full alertness. The whistle of a rope, tossed over a hold, the scrape of shoes on stone. Someone is climbing his cliff, and a great deal more quietly than the Scions earlier.

Or… not that quietly, he amends, hearing a muttered curse. Not a stealth mission, then. Mayhaps the Resistance had sent a scout. Or a desperate Imperial was climbing to high ground, looking for intel.

Well. He was very good at hiding in the shadows. He would watch them from here. If it was a Resistance member, he’d stay out of sight, and they would never be the wiser. If it was an Imperial… well, they wouldn’t see him, or anything else, for that matter.

Silently, Estinien tucks his few belongings away, glad he hadn’t started a fire—there will be no trace of his presence if he leaps away. He hefts his lance, eyeing the cliff’s edge. The moon was near-full, so whoever it was hadn’t needed a torch. Or they knew the cliff well. Or they were desperate.

Or… a hand grasps the edge of the cliff, and Estinien stares at it a moment, trying to figure out why he recognizes a hand and, Halone’s swiving teats, it’s the Warrior of Light, of course it is, because Alionne is too lucky, or persistent, or something for her own good.

Estinien is frozen in indecision. Is she here for him? The imperials knew their cannon had been destroyed by just one man, and the Resistance likely had spies among them, given the lack of an all-out assault on the castrum. There weren’t many men who could single-handedly cause that much damage, and as much pride as that brings Estinien, the Scions might have guessed his presence. Although that didn’t explain why she knew he’d be here, on this particular rock… it could be another reason. She’d been here before, perhaps she was scouting something. He could jump away, while she wasn’t looking, and she’d never know he was here. He could do it now, in fact…

Which is fair strange, because he’s been staring at her unmoving fingers for far longer than it should have taken for her to climb up over the edge. What is she doing? What kind of person climbs a cliff (my cliff, Estinien thinks mutinously), just to stop, right at the end? Is she hurt? Is she daft?

He’s taken a few steps towards her before he even notices, and that, more than anything, makes the decision for him. He’d been granted a second chance at life, and he’d vowed, upon waking, to make the most of it. For some reason, Alionne Bloody Ralnara is climbing his cliff in the middle of the night. Might as well see why.

In three strides, he’s at the edge, and he reaches down and grabs her—a little rougher than he means to, but maybe it will shake free whatever daydream has left her hanging from a cliff, like an idiot.

“Only a fool would climb a cliffside like this at night,” he grumbles as he pulls her up.

Irritatingly, his gruffness seems to calm her. “And only a fool would be waiting at the top,” she informs him, and he lets go of her wrist immediately.

They stare at each other, taking in the changes of the last few moons. Alionne eyes his new armor, and Estinien admires how fetchingly her dress sits atop her collarbones. Still, he’s suspicious, and that isn’t helped by the satisfied look she’s giving him.

When she doesn’t speak, he folds his arms. “Well? Out with it, then.”

Alionne gives him a curious look, and Estinien huffs. He hates this conversation already. She’s far too good at making him do the talking.

“You must have come all this way for something,” he points out. “Come to plead your case for the Resistance, then?”

Her gaze sharpens in disapproval. “No, actually,” she retorts. “I just missed you.”

Estinien’s traitor heart flares up beneath his breastplate, and he has no idea what to do with the feeling. “You climbed up a hundred-yalm cliff—which you shouldn’t have known I was on, mind you—because you missed me.” And now they’re glaring at each other, which doesn’t make any sense, she just got here.

“I saw you, from Castrum Abania,” Alionne informs him coldly. “Or, I thought I did. And I thought I might see if my friend, the one who might have destroyed an entire cannon for us, was still here.”

Ascending cliffs on the chance that friends might be present is not logical behavior, in Estinien’s opinion, but he also doubts arguing the point will get them anywhere. Which is why he hates talking.

“You let me find you,” adds Alionne, “so clearly, you missed me too.” And… gods, how had she read him so easily? He hadn’t realized it himself, until she’d said it, but something in him had warmed just because she was here.

And just like that, she’s won their conversation, and Estinien never had any chance, did he? She could ask him to assassinate Lord Zenos now, and he’d be too outmaneuvered to refuse.

“How did you become an expert in my emotions?” Estinien grumbles. It’s a concession more than a question, so he’s surprised when she answers him honestly.

"Oh, Aymeric told me,” she says, flashing him a smile, and Estinien is not qualified to interpret whatever feeling thrums in him at that revelation. “Estinien's fast,” she quotes, “so if you catch him, it’s because he’s let you. He said it’s how you show affection.”

It’s maddeningly accurate, and of course Aymeric is the one to have figured that out, he’d chased after Estinien often enough in their youth. But what has Estinien wanting to fling himself off the cliff edge is that he’s never noticed. Self-reflection has never been his strongest suit, but he’d thought he’d improved at it, lately, and yet, here Aymeric is, slicing him open from half a continent away.

“Alionne,” says Estinien, wearily. “Please stop telling me things about myself.”

She drops the subject (and why wouldn’t she, she’s already won) and looks over his shoulder curiously. “Where have you made camp, then? I thought I might join you.”

A suggestive remark sits on Estinien’s tongue, but he’s off-balance, and isn’t sure he wants to make it. “Pick wherever you like,” he sighs, instead.

And so, he finds himself helping the Warrior of Light set up a much more elaborate camp than he’d planned. He’s not sure when he went from leaning against the ship, arms crossed, to arranging rocks that will protect a small fire from the wind. “If there are any imperials left, we’ll draw them straight to us,” he complains.

Alionne raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to point out how ridiculous he sounds, and he scowls. Just because he’s lost doesn’t mean he has to lose gracefully.

“Have you had the chance to sample any of the local fare?” Alionne asks, ignoring his complaint. She pulls a tin from her bags, and sets it atop the fire to warm. “The bread is a little tough, but the stews are hearty, and the Resistance cooks seem to find ample herbs to spice them with, no matter where we camp.”

“I have not.” Where is she heading with this?

“Well, I have enough for two,” she says, smiling, and just like that, he’s out of patience for playing house, or whatever they’re doing.

“Alionne,” he bites out. “Why are you here.”

Her eyes search his face, more calculating than angry, and then she fixes him with a serious look. “I told you. I missed you, and I thought you might be here. So I came to see.”

Which doesn’t answer the real question in the slightest. “And now that you’ve seen me.”

“Now, I’d like to see what you think of this stew. And if you like, I can tell you about my time in Doma. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to thank you for destroying that cannon, because you saved a great many lives.”

She’s open, and honest, and there’s no way it can be that simple. “Do you have. Questions.”

She seems to genuinely consider it before shaking her head. “You seem to be dreading anything I could ask, so, no. I will hear anything you wish to share, but I will not ask anything of you.”

He catches her phrasing. Not, I will not ask you anything, but, I will not ask anything of you. No expectations. No requests, from well-intentioned Scions or Resistance leaders or… Aymerics. The tension drains from him, and he is only slightly annoyed at how quickly he’s trusted her.

Not that he hadn’t before. But before, he’d trusted her to watch his back, and to not make things too awkward if they ever had a falling-out. Now, he knows she won’t push, where it’s not welcome. That she’ll respect his choices, whatever they may be.

Shite, he trusts her with his heart, as awkward and starry-eyed as that sounds. He’ll be mooning over her, next. Or mayhaps he already is, since he’s been silent for far too long, now, and Alionne’s still looking at him intently, as though the longer she stares, the more he’ll believe her declaration of good faith.

“...Thank you,” he manages, stumbling only slightly, and her gentle smile warms him all the way through. And mayhaps this conversation was never one to be won, or lost.

Well, if that’s the case, he’s been an unsociable bastard. Estinien stares at the fire until he feels capable of stringing sentences together and being... well, not charming, but maybe— civil. “In light of your promise, this request is markedly unfair, but may I ask you questions?”

Alionne, who has been politely giving him space, suddenly beams. “I would be delighted.”

“In that case,” says Estinien, allowing himself to smirk at her. “Would you share your stew with me, then, and tell me of your time in Doma?”

The stew is remarkably flavorful, and tender, compared to the dried foodstuffs and hastily-roasted meats he’s been eating, lately. Though it is no doubt enhanced by the company, as Alionne tells him of pirates and shinobi, of underwater villages and nomadic warrior tribes. She keeps the tale light, even though Estinien knows it must have been far more difficult for the Scions than she lets on. He’s thankful—he doesn’t think he has the stomach for serious conversation, not unless she’s brought some spirits to accompany the stew. Besides, because it’s not important that he focus on the details, he can admire the way Alionne’s eyes flicker in the firelight.

Eventually, they’ve eaten their fill, and a comfortable silence stretches between them. When Estinien thinks of what he’d expected to do this night (very little), a deep thrum of satisfaction curls in his belly, powerful enough to take him by surprise. Until these last few moons, Estinien has never been indulgent, too focused on vengeance and discipline. His recent ventures have been instructive, and this night most of all.

“May I ask another question?” he asks her.

“If I haven’t been clear enough,” says Alionne, playfully exasperated, “you may ask me anything you like, Estinien, and I will do my best to answer it.”

For a moment, Estinien considers asking something embarrassing, but he quickly discards the impulse. There’s only one question he really wants to ask, anyway.

He gestures to their campground. “Did you come here just to talk?”

Alionne sends him another calculating look. Estinien returns it, confidently. He’d made his choice when he’d grabbed her wrist. “That depends on whether there’s more on offer,” she says, eventually, and Estinien can feel the space between them narrowing.

Wait. First things first. He leans backward, not breaking the mood, but prolonging it. “Have you and Aymeric talked, yet?”

Alionne’s gaze goes distant, and softer, which answers Estinien’s question before she speaks. “We’ve talked a great deal, yes. As you suspect, some of it was about you. Neither of us is promised to the other exclusively, if that is your meaning.”

Something about her tone suggests that Aymeric and Alionne have been uncomfortably forthright about their feelings, in a way that Estinien can’t consider right now without bolting, but luckily, Alionne’s body language suggests she won’t mind cutting the conversation short.

Good. He may be a poor conversationalist, but Estinien is confident he will have the upper hand in this.

#*shrugs and goes straight for that ot3 content*#aymeric's not even here but he's in my brain alright #overuse of italics #there's like a 50-50 chance I write a smutty sequel eventually #and like a 99% chance I start fleshing out this timeline with HW-era stuff #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ali writes #Estinien x WoL #aymeric x estinien x wol

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years

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Instinct (Part 2)

Summary: In which the paladins are unprepared for the strength of Keith’s instincts and Pidge is taken off guard by her own feelings. Pairings: Keith/Pidge; background Shiro/Curtis

Also posted on AO3 (note: I no longer post to fanfiction.net)

It has officially been too long since I last had a chapter of anything ready to post. Sorry, everyone! I got a little wrapped up in my project for the Kidgezine, but now I have a slight bit of time to get back to work on this.

Part 2

It was good to have Keith home.

Shiro hadn’t realized how lonely it was without him nearby until he was back, filling the void left in his life. He suddenly had a reason to look forward to returning to his apartment in the evenings, and waking up in the morning no longer meant hitting the snooze button until he absolutely had to get up. His little brother was home and he was going to enjoy every second until he had to leave again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find enjoyment when Keith wasn’t there - those moments when he and Curtis spent time together were always wonderful and he looked forward to many more of them - but Keith being home made things feel normal. Better, in some ways.

Shiro woke up before his alarm to the smell of coffee in the air. He slid out of bed and gave himself a once-over in the wall mirror before deeming himself presentable enough.

“Morning,” Keith greeted as Shiro walked into the kitchen.

“You drink coffee now?” Shiro asked, already heading for the pot.

Keith shook his head and held up his mug. “Nah, this is chocolate milk. The coffee’s all for you.”

Shiro wasn’t even aware he had chocolate milk, but he shrugged that off in favor of pouring himself a large cup of coffee, adding an unhealthy amount of sugar and a little cream. “Any plans for the day?”

“Figure I’ll check in with my team later and make sure everyone is comfortable with their rooming situations. I sent Kosmo to Acxa with a note, so I should hear back from her soon about who wants a tour guide,” Keith said.

“Veronica will appreciate that. I asked her to put together a list of people who would be willing to do it. Curtis was right when he said she’d be happy to see Acxa again.” Shiro sat down at the table with his cup and took a sip, but it was too hot, so he set it aside to cool a little. “I have a presentation to give to one of the classes this morning, but I’ll be free after lunch if you want to do anything.”

“Day in or…?”

“Whichever you’d like. We could go driving, just like the old days,” Shiro suggested.

Keith’s expression was soft as he took that into consideration. “I’d like that.”

There was a quiet ‘poof’ as Kosmo suddenly appeared with a letter tucked into the collar around his neck. Keith reached over to give him a pat and then removed the paper, looking it over before passing it to Shiro.

“Looks like everyone’s interested in a tour guide. Give Veronica my contact info and tell her if she needs more details, she can call me,” Keith said. He glanced at the clock on the wall and quickly drained his milk before standing up.

Shiro watched him wash it out and set it in the rack to dry. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I told Pidge I’d go running with her this morning. I’ve got to get going if I want to meet her in time.”

“Pidge? Running?” Shiro asked in disbelief. He couldn’t have heard that right. Sure, she went to the gym once or twice a month, but it was always later in the day.

That wasn’t the only weird thing.

“Keith, what’s with the Batman shirt?”

Keith turned around, looking confused. “It’s not. This is mothman. Pidge got it for me when we went out yesterday.”

Once Shiro took a better look, he could see the differences. While the typical Batman logo was yellow with a black bat symbol, the one on Keith’s shirt was bright red, and instead of a bat, the silhouette was of a moth. “Ah, I see now.”

He really didn’t. What was mothman and why did Pidge get Keith a shirt of it?

“Have fun running with Pidge.”

Keith beamed, clearly not hearing the confusion in Shiro’s voice. He headed out soon after, clearly excited to meet up with her. Kosmo trotted at his heels, leaving behind Shiro to puzzle over what was happening by himself.

He felt like he was missing something important.

---

Healthy body, healthy mind.

That was what Pidge tried to keep in mind as she and Keith made another lap around the outdoor tract. She could feel her calves burning from exertion, but kept pushing on, determined to keep up with him. She thought she was still in good shape, even with her infrequent trips to the gym, but clearly she was mistaken.

She glanced at Keith, who’d barely broken a sweat. She was pleasantly surprised to see him wearing the shirt she bought for him and wished that she’d worn hers as well.

They exchanged them on their arrival back at the Garrison after their shopping trip. Keith had laughed in delight when she presented him with mothman, right before digging through one of his bags to hand over the one he picked for her.

The shirt itself was a super soft material and dark green in color. Printed on the front were the words “Hide ‘n Seek Champion of All Time” in silver font. At first she wasn’t sure if there was anything more to it, but then she saw it. Under the right lighting, there was a subtle difference in color to reveal the Loch Ness Monster.

Pidge loved it.

“Getting tired?”

“Never,” Pidge gaped out, hating how hard it was just to speak. She really needed to take up running in her spare time.

Keith huffed out a short laugh and slowed his pace. “Why don’t we take a break? I don’t want you to get hurt because you’re trying to keep up with me.”

“I’m not-!”

“You are,” Keith interrupted easily. “Pushing yourself is good, but not when it means you’ll be in too much pain to walk by this evening. Trust me, it’s not fun.”

Pidge begrudgingly admitted he had a point. She could already feel the ache settling in her legs and remembered the way she felt after the intense training Allura put them through in the early days. She had no desire to go through that again.

She slowed to a brisk walk and Keith matched her pace so they could cool down from their run. She focused on her breathing until she could speak without gasping for air. (She resolved to add more gym days to her schedule.)

“Any plans for today?” Keith asked.

“A few,” Pidge responded, thinking back to her meticulous, color-coded board of notes. There were so many projects she was eager to get started on, and some that she really needed to get back to work on, but Keith probably didn’t want to hear about those.

“I’m expecting a video call from Coran today, so I’m going to work on a few things while I wait for him. He sounded excited in the message he left for me last night, which either means he has some new discovery to share with me, or he needs me to do something for him. What about you? Anything fun planned?” she asked.

Keith smiled. “Yeah, Shiro invited me to go driving after lunch. I’ve been dying to try out a few maneuvers that my mom showed me. Maybe this time I’ll be able to win our race.”

“Just a ‘drive’, huh?” Pidge nudged him playfully.

“There’s driving involved!”

Pidge laughed at the indignation in his voice. “Good luck with your race. I get the feeling you need it.”

Keith was awful at faking any emotion, which made it all the more fun for Pidge as he tried to act mad. His lips twitched up into a smile and he looked away from her to hide it. “You’re probably right. I bet he has a new trick or two he’s been waiting to use on me, and that’s why he suggested a drive.” He shook his head fondly. “Do you remember when this all started? When you three interrupted my rescue of Shiro and we were lucky to escape?”

“How could I forget? I think that was the most scared I’d ever been up until that point,” Pidge said.

“Shiro taught me how to make that jump.”

It shouldn’t have shocked Pidge as much as it did. Shiro always tried to present himself as the mature, responsible one, but after all of their time in space and seeing firsthand his sense of humor, it was clear that he was just as childish as the rest of them. Really, if she thought about it, driving a hoverbike off of a sheer cliff for the fun of it was purely a Shiro move.

“You two need supervision,” Pidge said.

“Probably. You volunteering?” Keith asked.

Pidge shook her head. “No thanks. I think I’ll leave that up to Curtis, though I doubt he wants the job either.” She paused to rethink her statement. “Or else he’ll cheer you on.”

Keith laughed as they reached the lower loop of the track and headed back into the main building. Several cadets stopped to watch them, whispering and pointing, but Keith and Pidge ignored them.

“So you said something about a call from Coran? How is he doing?” Keith asked.

“He’s staying busy organizing everything on New Altea. Romelle and Tavo are helping him, or doing their best to help him. I get updates at least once a month from Romelle, so I know he’s eating and getting the bare minimum amount of sleep. Or the bare minimum as far as any of us know.”

Keith moved out of the way of a group of cadets, brushing in close against Pidge’s side and stepping away the moment they were clear. “I’m glad they’re watching out for him. I’ve been meaning to visit, but we never have time to stop whenever we’re nearby.”

“He’s like that. I would go, but… it’s just not that easy without the Green Lion,” Pidge said.

She missed her Lion. The freedom that came with her ship was something irreplaceable, and the bond it represented between her and the other paladins was a hard loss. Sometimes, if she focused hard enough, she could almost hear the purr of the cockpit.

“So, I hear from Lance and Hunk on a near weekly basis too,” she said, swiftly changing the subject. “Hunk likes to start up conference calls and won’t take no for an answer. And you I get updates on through Shiro. You know you’re allowed to call just to chat, right? Because anytime I hear you and Shiro on call, it sounds like you’re giving a mission report.”

Keith at least looked embarrassed. “I guess I’m so used to giving Kolivan updates that it bleeds over. Shiro keeps teasing me about it too.”

That wasn’t entirely her point, but at least Keith knew the way he sounded over video call. Pidge took a moment to consider emphasizing her original point, which was that he was the only member of the original team who she didn’t talk to regularly, but in the end decided against it. If Keith wanted to talk to her, he would.

She changed the subject instead, asking him about some of the more interesting planets he’d been to. Before she knew it, she was at the door to her family’s quarters.

“You still have a while before you meet up with Shiro, right? Do you want to come in and see what I’ve been working on?” Pidge asked.

“Sure,” Keith agreed with a shrug.

Pidge typed in the code and led the way inside, keeping an eye out for anyone else. It looked like they were all out, likely hard at work. She took off her shoes and placed them near the door before walking over to her room, which required a code of its own.

(And maybe that was overkill, but part of her felt the paranoia was justified, given everything happening with the WLC. She wasn’t going to risk anyone that she didn’t trust learning about her personal projects until she was good and ready to show them off.)

“If you ever need a place to relax while you’re here, the number is five-one-four-two,” she told him.

Keith looked at her in surprise. “You’re trusting me with that?”

“You’re my friend. And after everything we’ve been through together, of course I trust you,” Pidge said. The lock clicked and she pushed open her bedroom door, remembering a little too late the mess that was slowly accumulating. At least her dirty laundry was properly in the basket, waiting to be washed.

Keith looked around curiously and then smiled softly, reaching for a pile of junk in the corner nearest the door. When he pulled his hand back, he had one of the green nebuloids. The fuzzy creature vibrated happily at the attention.

“What are you working on that you wanted to show me?” he asked.

“It’s an upgraded version of the program my dad uses to keep track of project progress. The one their using now is useful for keeping track of who needs to do what and what parts are finished, but I think it could be better. I know it can be better. What I want to do is make it so he can input what supplies they already have and it will calculate what can be worked on based on that and what parts are already done,” Pidge explained.

Listening to her dad and Matt complain about their current work predicament was her inspiration. She doubted she would be able to finish it in time to be useful for their current project, but hopefully it would be ready for the future.

“That sounds really useful. I think Kolivan has something similar to keep track of members of the Blade of Marmora, but it’s not quite as in depth as that,” Keith said. “If you hit any roadblocks, he might be able to help. Or he could direct you to someone who could.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Pidge moved to her desk to pick up her tablet so she could show off what she had so far, and that was when she saw it.

Another package wrapped in brown paper, bearing her name in green ink. It was larger than the last one, roughly the length and width of a shoebox, but not as deep.

“How did that get there?” she muttered, staring at it with a frown.

Keith moved a little closer. “Is something wrong?”

“This is the second time I’ve come home to find one of these, and I don’t understand where they’re coming from! Only a few people know how to get in, and half of them are off planet. I swear, if this turns out to be Matt’s idea of a joke, he’s going to be in so much trouble,” Pidge ranted.

Once again, she found herself struggling to put the pieces together, and once again she had no answers that made sense.

“You… don’t know who it’s from?”

“No,” Pidge said bluntly. “There’s no note. No indication of where it came from. There’s just my name, and I swear I’ve seen that handwriting before, but I don’t remember where.” She slumped her shoulders and glanced at Keith to find him staring with a worried expression.

She cleared her throat, feeling the need to put him at ease. “It’s just weird, is all. Clearly it’s someone who I know and trust well enough that they can get in here, but the mystery of it is really bothering me. I can’t think of a good reason why someone wouldn’t give it to me directly. Why go through the hassle of waiting until I’m not here?”

Pidge picked up the package and was surprised by the weight of it.

“Are you going to open it?” Keith asked. He walked over to stand right next to Pidge, slowly petting the back of the nebuloid, which continued to vibrate.

“Someone’s curious,” Pidge lightly teased, though she didn’t blame him. She was curious as well.

She picked at the tape on one end, before making up her mind and tearing the paper away to reveal a sturdy metal box with beveled edges around the top. There was a simple clasp on the front and she squeezed either side of it to release the lock and lift the lid.

Inside were crystals of various colors, cuts, and sizes, all small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, and carefully nestled in individual compartments. Pidge took one of them out and found a note beneath it. In the same green ink was the designation of a Balmera.

“Balmera crystals,” she breathed. “But who? Why?”

It was too much. The hair pins were one thing, but crystals from different Balmera across the universe? The effort it must have taken to do such a thing, only for it to be quietly left on her desk for her to find, left a heavy feeling in her chest.

She needed to know who it was.

Pidge turned to Keith. “Do you think I should put up security cameras around my room?”

Keith took a moment to consider her questions while he looked around the room with a critical eye. “The door is the only way in or out, so I think that’s all you need to focus on. Or you could change the code to get in and see how it goes after that.”

“That does make sense,” Pidge agreed, mentally scaling back the number of cameras she could place. “Okay, one camera to watch the door, connected to my personal network. That shouldn’t take too long to put together, as long as I can get the parts for it. Want to help? Or, no, quiznak. You’re hanging out with Shiro today.”

“I am, but I could come by tomorrow and take a look,” Keith volunteered. He stroked the nebuloid one last time and then walked across the room to deposit it back in the corner, where one of the pink ones crawled out to see what was happening. “Or we could go out and put it to the test.”

“Lunch?” Pidge suggested. She knew of a cozy bistro that Keith was bound to enjoy, simply because it never saw a heavy crowd despite the delicious food. It even had Hunk’s approval.

Keith nodded. “I’ll meet you here and we can walk together.”

---

The next day passed without incident.

It took Pidge a few more hours that morning to cobble together a working security camera to keep watch over her door, and then she put it to the test by going out for a light lunch with Keith. She returned to find nothing on her desk.

A review of the footage showed that the camera was in perfect working order, and after a few minor tweaks, she spent the rest of the day polishing up something she’d been working on for Coran.

During his video call the night before, he revealed that he was ahead of schedule on some big secret project. He would arrive on Earth in the next few days to pick up the prototype camouflage device that he asked her to design. It was based on the cloaking she used with the Green Lion (which in turn, had been based off of particle shield technology), but used far less power as it was only meant for blending in rather than being rendered nearly invisible.

She spent a few hours running small-scale tests and it was only when her speakers chimed to indicate a call coming in that she took a break.

“Pidge!” Hunk shouted the moment she answered his call. He was beaming at her through the camera. “Oh man, you’re not going to believe this, but I got a call from Iverson yesterday - or I think it was yesterday. Time kind of gets away from me out here… Anyway, he asked if we wanted to run a food stall at some festival the Garrison is running? So we’re coming in tomorrow so we can talk about the details!”

It took Pidge a minute to remember that she already knew about the festival; her dad told them about it a few nights ago over dinner. “Hunk, that’s great!”

“We’re planning on stopping near Lance’s place to pick him up and put in an order for extra food supplies, so once we get there, it’ll basically be a Team Voltron reunion! Y’know, just missing Keith and Coran.”

“Actually, Keith got in a few days ago,” she told him. “And Coran says he’s going to come by sometime this week.”

Hunk looked absolutely delighted. “This is officially the best week ever! Okay, so we’ll see you all tomorrow, depending on what time we get in. I’ve gotta go clear a few things with the others before we reach Earth. Could you tell Shiro and Keith for me?”

Pidge nodded. “We have our monthly dinner at Shiro’s tonight, so I can tell everyone then.”

Hunk looked away as someone shouted to him, and it quickly became clear that he was needed elsewhere, so Pidge let him go with a quick goodbye and made sure her phone was set to vibrate if he sent anymore messages. It was high time she left her room to assist her mom with dessert, as was tradition.

Once a month, the Holt family and Shiro would take turns hosting dinner. The host would make the main course, while the guests would prepare a dessert to bring over. They tried to make it more fair for Shiro, but he insisted he didn’t mind, and so they swapped places every month.

There wasn’t much for her to help with when she peeked out of her room, and Colleen quickly shooed her off to redress in something nicer than a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt. Pidge figured she had a good point and swapped them out for jeans and the shirt Keith bought for her, adding in one of the decorative flower hair pins to spice things up a little more.

Less than an hour later, they were all seated at Shiro’s dining table, relaxing and talking about their days. Pidge found herself between Matt and Keith, listening to Shiro talk.

A few minutes into Shiro’s story about sitting in on a simulation run for the newest batch of cadets, Keith leaned over to whisper to Pidge.

“You’re wearing the shirt I got you.”

“I think it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve worn since I lost my old sweater after… well, everything,” Pidge said honestly. Her lounge clothes were comfortable as well, but the shirt was warm and soft in a different way.

“We lost a lot then,” Keith acknowledged.

Pidge tuned back into Shiro’s story and steadily ate her food. She hardly looked at her plate, only glancing down when she needed to spear a new piece of chicken or scoop up some of her dad’s favorite peas.

She didn’t notice the way she went through most of her meal without running out of her favorites.

Shiro noticed.

And just as he felt befuddled by the news that Pidge was willingly going for a run with Keith, his confusion rose even higher with every exchange between them that he witnessed.

The way they leaned toward each other whenever they spoke.

The ease with which they cleared the table together at the end of the night.

The way Keith subtly added food to Pidge’s plate throughout the night, seemingly without anyone else noticing what he was doing so.

Shiro had a theory, but he would need to observe them for a little while longer, just in case.

---

Keith was settling into bed when his phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. He picked it up and when he saw that it was Pidge, quickly answered.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I found another one. It was sitting on my desk when I got back.”

It took Keith a moment to catch on to what she was saying. “Another gift? What is it this time?”

Pidge made a frustrated sound. “It’s… I don’t know. Like a snowglobe? But instead of a winter scene it’s a tiny galaxy contained in a sphere?”

Keith sat back against the headboard. “That sounds like a cosmolabe. They’re used more for decoration than navigation now, but Kolivan keeps a few on hand any time we travel someplace that interferes with advanced technology.”

He could hear her thinking through her silence and gave her a moment.

“Interesting… Would you show me how it works? I could probably figure it out on my own, but if you already know how to use them, then that would be easier. I want you to come over anyway and help me look over my plan for new surveillance cameras. Watching the door wasn’t enough or else they found some way to hack in and delete footage from when they were here,” Pidge said.

Keith frowned. “I thought you said it was secure.”

“It should be. I’m going to look everything over tonight. You can come by tomorrow, can’t you? Sorry, I know I just assumed earlier, and if you can’t, that’s okay.”

“I’ll be there,” Keith promised.

#voltron #kidgemas #kidge #Instinct #fanfiction #post season 8 #galra courtship

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dinfeanoriel · 5 years

Text

Yiga

A little fanfic I wanted to write after stumbling across @linkeduniverse‘s beautiful and amazing artwork for this awesome AU! For those of you who haven’t, check her art out! Please keep in mind that this is my first Tumblr post, so if I do anything wrong or have forgotten something, don’t hesitate to let me know.

I do not own anything but my own writing.

Anywho, here you are:

“So, this is Wild’s Hyrule, huh?” Legend remarked, arms crossed and expression set in his typical I-could-care-less-about-everything look. Hyrule nodded,

“Guess so.”

“It’s huge!” Wind exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared in amazement and awe at the vast fields, rolling hills, and looming cliffs and gigantic mountains.

Hyrule shifted uneasily and Legend withheld the urge to smirk. He extended a hand and clasped his fellow companion’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, ‘rule. If you stick with us, there’s no way you can get lost.”

Hyrule managed a weak, embarrassed, smile, “I know.”

~~~~~~~~

“I take them back.”

Wind looked to the disgruntled and irritated Legend grumpily stalking a little ahead of him, fists clenched and a scowl permanently plastered on his lips.

“Take what back?” The sailor asked in his usual, cheerful voice.

“My words,” Came the grumbled reply, “I mean, how is it even possible?!” Legend threw his hands up into the air, flinging them to the side and pointing to the ground beside him as he walked, “He was standing right here! Right beside me! And he still manages to somehow disappear!”

Wind frowned, gaze darting ahead of them, “You think we should head back and get the others? We don’t know this world as well as Wild. He might have a better chance of knowing where we could find Hyrule. Wolfie would be able to trace him!” To be honest, Wind wasn’t all that worried. Hyrule got lost all of the time, but he always managed to find them- or they would manage to find him.

Sometimes, it was both Wild and Hyrule that would wander off somewhere and Wolfie would be sent to fetch them if Time felt they had been gone for too long.

Legend made a face, “Y-eah...” He raised a hand and raked it through his hair, “About that...”

Wind paused mid-step, whipping his head up in horror, “Don’t tell me we’re also lost!?”

“Alright. We’re not.”

“Liar!”

“You just told me to not to tell you-”

“I wasn’t being serious!” Wind griped, folding his arms and frowning petulantly. “But...are we lost?”

Legend coughed awkwardly, “I think so.”

“Great...”

Legend waved a hand in the air, “Don’t worry. We’ll find our-”

“Hey, you!” A new voice interrupted, and both Wind and Legend lifted their heads to see a lone stranger on the side of the road, beckoning to them.

Wind brightened with renewed hope, “Maybe we can ask them if they have a map!”

“Hold on a moment,” Legend gripped his shoulder, narrowed eyes fixated on the tall and lean figure waving to them, “Something’s off about him.”

Not to mention this stranger had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Legend could have sworn that man hadn’t been there before.

Wind slipped from his grasp, rolling his eyes, “Always so distrustful, Legend! Lighten up would you?”

“I’ll have you know I have every reason to be distrustful.” Legend grumbled, following after Wind as the blue-clad hero all but skipped to the stranger. Legend’s senses were screaming that something was incredibly wrong. Something about that man just didn’t sit right with him.

“Come on, Legend!” Wind urged, gesturing for him to hurry up. “He’s probably just some helpless stranger.”

Legend frowned. Why did he get the feeling this person was anything but a helpless stranger?

“Hello, sir!” Wind greeted with a brilliant smile as the two neared him. “Did you need something?”

The man grinned down at him and Legend instinctively drew closer to Wind. He discreetly positioned himself between the man and Wind, watching the stranger with sharp, analytical eyes. He didn’t like that smile. Or the way his eyes gleamed when they fell upon the two of them.

“Well, the two of you looked a bit lost and I thought I might be able to help you out.” The stranger told them. Legend immediately knew he was lying.

“Sure you did,” the Hero scoffed, hand drifting to the handle of his sheathed blade, “Now, how about telling us the truth?”

Wind shot him a look of disapproval, “Legend!” He scolded. Legend ignored him.

The stranger blinked then appraised Legend carefully, taking in his outfit, his hat, hair and eye colour.

“Tell me, good sir, would your name happen to be Link?”

Alarm bells rang in Legend’s mind and he knew then and there that his suspicions were correct. This was no friendly stranger.

“Wind!” Legend shouted, shoving the younger Hero aside just as the stranger whipped out a sharp, curved knife-like weapon and lashed out at him with a maniacal laugh.

Wind grunted, eyes wide as he watched the stranger suddenly transform into a masked individual wearing a red and black form-fitting suit. He slammed into the ground and immediately scrambled to his feet as the penetrating sound of metal clashing against metal pierced the air. He didn’t hesitate to take his sword in hand and jump to Legend’s aid.

Legend dodged an arrow that their opponent shot with deadly accuracy. Wind ducked under another.

“What is this? Why is he attacking us?” Wind asked, sidling up to Legend, gripping the handle of his sword tightly in confusion.

“Now’s not the time to worry about that, Wind!” Legend curtly told him. Wind knew better than to take offence to the short tone. They were, after all, in the middle of a battle. Their opponent vanished with another laugh and the two stood back-to-back, waiting for him to reappear. “Get your bow ready, Wind.”

Wind did so without having to be told twice.

“Clearly, this guy has something against Link.” Legend muttered, referring to Wild as he gripped his sword arm. Wind heard a rustling noise above him and instinctively released the string of his bow, listening as the arrow sang through the air and buried itself into the flesh of their opponent just as he appeared.

He disappeared again only to materialize in front of Legend. Legend raised his sword and deflected the stranger’s blow with practiced ease. His attacks were swift and lethal. The skill of an assassin, Legend determined. Wind crouched low and let loose another arrow.

It flew straight and true and the masked individual vanished again. The cycle repeated itself and Legend’s patience was wearing thin. He had little patience to begin with.

“Would you just die already!” He burst out with a flurry of attacks. His hits never missed their mark- they rarely ever did. With Wind’s help, they finally succeeded in defeating the red and black clad assassin after what felt like hours of their opponent disappearing then reappearing and the Heroes trying in vain to guess where he might appear next.

The masked assassin staggered, an arm curled around their abdomen. They shook their hook-like weapon at the two Links, hissing angrily,

“This won’t be the last you see of me, Heroes!” And with that, he was gone.

Wind blinked. Then blinked again.

“Um...Legend?”

“What?” Came the terse response.

“Did he...” Wind began, rubbing his eyes to ensure they weren’t playing tricks with him, “Did he really just leave behind a bunch of bananas?”

“Looks like it.”

Wind frowned at the tone of Legend utilized, and turned to look at his companion, but Legend wasn’t standing beside him anymore. Instead,Wind found the Hero kneeling on the ground, gripping his side tightly. Worry lanced through Wind as he raced to Legend’s side,

“Legend!” He cried upon seeing the crimson red liquid trickling between Legend’s fingers and the dark stain growing on his already red tunic. “You’re hurt!”

Legend huffed out a short laugh, “Way to state the obvious, Wind.” He waved a bloodied hand dismissively in the air, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a scratch.”

“No, it’s not!” Wind vehemently denied, digging through his pack, “And we don’t have any potions with us!” He bit his lip worriedly, eyeing the ghastly wound Legend bore. The fabric of his tunic had been torn, doing little to hide the injury from Wind’s sight. “It’s because you took that hit for me...” He realized with horror. The revelation struck him hard and Wind hung his head guiltily, “You wouldn’t be hurt if I hadn’t approached that man!” He fiddled with the end of his sleeve, berating himself for not having listened to Legend.

Legend knocked a fist on Wind’s head, “Cut that out,” The Hero scowled, “None of this was your fault. How could you have known that man would turn out to be some crazed assassin bent on killing us? ‘Sides, even if we had walked past and ignored him, he probably would have attacked us anyway.”

Wind sighed. Legend’s words helped to alleviate some of his guilt, but some of it still remained,

“I know you’re right,” he admitted, “But still. We don’t know where anyone is, where we are, or where to go! We have nothing to treat your wound with and you’re losing a lot of blood!” A Hero Wind might be, but he would never get used to seeing so much blood. It didn’t matter whether it was his own or a monster’s. Blood was blood and it made Wind uneasy to see it.

“We’re just going to have to manage with what we have,” Legend told him, rifling through his own pack and tugging out a ripped piece of cloth. With Wind’s help, they fastened it around Legend, the fabric soaking up the blood still flowing from the injury. “He got me good, didn’t he?”

Wind said nothing, tying the ends into a simple but effective knot.

Legend’s expression uncharacteristically softened when he saw that Wind was still beating himself up over his injury.

“Listen, Wind,” He started, “You’ve got to understand that this isn’t on you. I made the decision to take the hit, so the blame’s on both of us, alright?”

Wind slowly raised his gaze to meet Legend’s, a small smile playing on his lips. It was weak, but Legend was pleased to see it all the same, “I thought you said it wasn’t my fault?”

Legend shrugged, wincing lightly when it strained his wound. He rubbed it with gentle care,

“Well, you aren’t going to accept that now, are you?” He shot back. He glanced up to find the sun slowly sinking below the horizon, outlining the distant mountains with various pinks, purples, blues, and orange hues. “It’s getting late.” He muttered to himself.

Wind frowned when something else caught his eye, “You didn’t say you’d been shot!” He accused without any ire. Legend blinked and glanced down to find Wind was right.

“Oh...Guess that guy grazed me with one of his arrows.”

“You say that so calmly,” Wind crouched down and studied the wound, “It’s still a nasty cut. You shouldn’t put any pressure on your leg.” Without hesitation, Wind ripped the bottom of his tunic and swiftly knotted it around Legend’s newfound injury.

“We’re heroes,” Legend sighed, a hint of scorn evident in his tone, “We’re bound to get shot, run through, beaten, or struck down at some point.”

Wind knew he was right. It was the sad truth of being a Hero.

“Yeah...” He whispered, taking a seat beside Legend and toying with the long grass. He tugged a bit fiercely at a few blades, tearing out a couple and releasing them. The breeze swept them away.

“Well,” Legend eased himself onto the ground, curling his left arm under his head, “Guess we’re just going to have to wait for the others to find us.”

Wind drew his knees to his chest, his heart still heavy with guilt and remorse. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his chin between them. He wished there was more he could have done. They had been ill-prepared. No potions, fairies, or other much-needed supplies. Wind knew the wounds were bad and had a good chance of becoming infected since they hadn’t been treated properly. They hadn’t even been cleansed. They had no water and there wasn’t any nearby.

They hadn’t meant to wander so far.

Wind spared a glance towards Legend. The older Hero had closed his eyes, his right arm gingerly resting on his stomach and hiding the bandaged wound from view, but Wind could still see it in his mind’s eye.

I hope someone finds us soon, Wind thought to himself. He didn’t want to risk an infection settling in and Legend falling ill because of it.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Wind couldn’t quite smother a grin at Legend’s aggravation. Injured or not, Legend was still Legend. Snarky, sarcastic, and outspoken. He’d have him no other way. It was amusing most times. Especially when Legend and Warrior would have a go at one another. Not one day passed without the two bickering back and forth at each other. But the group knew it was mostly all fun and games.

Four casually kept tallies of who won. So far, Legend was in the lead.

“Legend...”

“What?”

“Think the others will find us soon?”

Legend cracked an eye open, “I’m pretty sure they’re looking for us right now. They probably started searching a couple hours after we left.”

Wind nodded, shivering when the cool breeze caressed his form. As an islander, Wind was unaccustomed to the frigid temperatures of the night or wintry lands they would sometimes pass through.

“Hey, Wind,”

Wind shifted slightly to look at Legend when he’d spoken.

“Yeah?”

“In my pack.” Legend muttered. Wind immediately grabbed Legend’s pack and lifted the flap, giving him an expectant look. “There’s a cloak in there.”

Wind found it after a small search. He pulled it out and raised it, silently asking if this were the one Legend was referring too. The older teen nodded.

“Use it.”

Wind blinked then smiled shyly, securing the cloak around his shoulders and pulling it snugly around him.

“Thanks.”

“Hmpf.”

Wind’s smile broadened at the typical response. He turned himself around so he was facing Legend and positioned himself at the Hero’s side as if standing guard. He curled further into himself and listened as Legend’s breathing evened out until he’d slipped into a peaceful slumber.

Wind was thankful. Although Legend didn’t show it, he knew the Hero was in pain from the deep side wound. The graze on his leg most likely just irritated Legend more than it did pain him.

He released a sigh and waited.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #fanfic #legend of zelda

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kyogre-blue · 4 years

Text

Nanowrimo, day 6 (wc 1712)

His instincts immediately screamed, and he twisted in midair to shoot off a blast of lightning that swept aside a flurry of small, sharp darts. A bulky shape charged at him, but Sinbad managed to twist and vault over it one-handed, and with a swing of Baal’s sword, deflected another attack.

One, two... three and four opponents.

And among them, a familiar face.

“Long time no see, Drakon!” Sinbad called out, landing past the ambush team and immediately rolling into a ready stance, Baal’s sword in front of him. “Couldn’t get enough of adventuring in a dungeon, huh? Or was it me you couldn’t get enough of?”

The young soldier spluttered, still far too stiff but also far more pale and drawn than Sinbad remembered, even after the shock of losing his men to Baal’s dragons. There was a strange device in his hand, which he brandished threateningly toward Sinbad.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Sinbad, hand over the djinn’s power! This is what you should do as a Parthevian!”

“I won’t be a Parthevian for long! I’m going to create my own kingdom!” Sinbad shot back. He kept a careless smile on his face, even as he noted that, of the other three, only one focused on him. The remaining two, a thin man and a very stocky one, focused on the tunnel entrance.

In other words, they were preparing to face Alibaba. They knew that Sinbad wasn’t alone.

That’s not something they would have known from Drakon’s account of Baal’s dungeon, or even from questioning the Tison villagers. After all, there was no reason to assume that Sinbad and Alibaba would travel together after leaving.

They had been followed and observed. That meant they most likely also knew about Amon…

Knowing this didn’t help much. There was no time to change their strategy, as Alibaba had already rushed out of the tunnel as well.

Unlike Sinbad, he didn’t immediately use his Weapon Equip. Sidestepping a pair of silver darts, he neatly sliced the cords attached to them, then jumped over the large man’s tackle and, planting both feet onto his face, vaulted off. He landed nimbly and ready to continue, one arm behind his back and dagger in upright salute.

All of it looked extremely coordinated and effortless. When he moved like this, it was almost as if Alibaba too could read the flow -- the flow of the battle.

He couldn’t, of course. But that made it all the more impressive.

“Think you’ve got time to be worrying about your friend?” the third of the new faces yelled, attacking Sinbad with overflowing bloodlust. Well, not that their faces were visible. But this one was obviously a kid, several years younger than even Sinbad.

“I always have time for my friends,” Sinbad said magnanimously. “You’ll find being my friend is quite rewarding! What do you think? How about giving it a try?”

The child assassin hissed at him, like a small, very furious animal. His ruthless attacks sped up, becoming a blur of small fists, glinting darts and red cords. But the sheer density of his killing intent made it entirely too easy to read, and Sinbad easily kept ahead of him, even while keeping an eye on Drakon, watching from the sidelines. As for the other two, Alibaba should be more than able to handle them. This battle wasn’t a breeze, but it seemed they had the upper hand.

He should have known better than to think that. A sudden shiver went down his spine.

At the same time, Alibaba called out, “Sinbad, look out! Amol Saiqa!”

“Thalg Al-Salos!”

Sinbad’s eyes widened as another voice -- a woman, a fifth person he had missed -- rang out.

A rain of ice shards, each as long as a throwing lance and several times thicker, fell toward him. There wasn’t enough room to slip between them, and not enough time to get completely clear of the spell’s wide range.

However, a wave of fire intercepted the ice in midair, melting it away.

“How interesting,” the woman said, lowering her staff and stepping forward. Now that she moved, Sinbad could tell she had been using the dungeon to somehow hide her presence. He wouldn’t lose track of her again. “To think there would already be another dungeon conqueror…” she went on. “Just who are you? And where did you come from?”

“Wouldn’t it be polite to give your own name first, madame?” Alibaba shot back gamely.

The woman dipped her head, her expression hidden by her veil. “I am Falan, Parthevia’s court magician,” she said. “It is always an honor to make the acquaintance of a king vessel.”

“The pleasure,” Sinbad said, surreptitiously gathering Baal’s power, “is all ours!”

His attack flashed toward the child assassin and Drakon, the former somehow managing to leap out of the way, while the latter was flung backwards. A dart shot out, and a red cord wrapped around Sinbad’s arm, yanking him off balance. He avoided a stab and rolled back to his feet.

Around him, the battle had resumed.

And it was… not in their favor. The difference was small, but it built up as the two groups continued to trade attacks back and forth. The original four, they could have handled, as Sinbad had first judged, but the addition of the magician Falan tilted the odds in the other direction.

She remained out of range for their attacks and acted rarely, but her rare spells were perfectly timed to make him and Alibaba stumble and lose their rhythm. And unfortunately it seemed their opponents had figured out the most obvious weakness of a djinn's power -- that it was useless without the metal vessel. The child assassin's nimble hands and entangling cords were constantly grabbing at Sinbad's sword, and he could see Alibaba having the same issue in the glimpses he caught of the other half of the battle.

They needed to get out of there, Sinbad thought.

“Alibaba!” he hollered, gathering as much power as he could. “Just like in training!”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Drakon yelled, firing his strange device.

Sinbad sidestepped it, but the small delay was enough for Alibaba to launch his own attack -- just as Sinbad had planned. There was no finesse or particular direction to it, only an overpowering wall of flames like their first attempts at summoning a djinn’s power on Balbadd’s outskirts.

“Baal!” Sinbad called out his own djinn, matching Alibaba’s flames with lightning.

The combined explosion of their two magics cleared the battlefield, and Sinbad didn’t hesitate to dart out and grab Alibaba’s hand, dragging him into a dead sprint away.

“That’s not going to keep them down for long!” Alibaba warned, looking over his shoulder while Sinbad focused on leading the way.

“I know, I have a plan!” Sinbad assured him.

Although, Alibaba was no going to like this plan.

“Just trust me, and jump!”

They were headed straight for a cliff. “No way!” Alibaba protested immediately. “No! Sinbad, there’s a waterfall! It’s cold! I don’t want to!”

However, he didn’t dig in his heels or do anything more than tug ineffectually at Sinbad’s grip. The next moment, before the Parthevians could catch up, they were soaring over the edge. Alibaba screamed all the way down.

They hit the river at the bottom with a towering splash. The water was indeed cold, but not as much so as outside the dungeon, and the current was not unmanageable. Regaining his bearings quickly, Sinbad tugged Alibaba along.

No one followed them in, he noted. That was... strange. They didn’t seem like the type to give up easily -- especially not Drakon, not with the stubborn perseverance he’d shown in front of Baal.

He wasn’t even taking a few shots at them...?

“Thalg Hajar!” Overhead, the magician’s voice rang out -- and ice began to spread rapidly down the river, gaining on them in jagged spears.

Sinbad was a good swimmer, and Alibaba was gamely keeping up, but they couldn’t outrun it. He cursed mentally and frantically searched for that glimmer of light that meant a way forward, but he couldn’t see it. The water felt dark, the ice already covering the surface over their heads. Sinbad raised Baal’s sword, halfway hoping the djinn’s magic would be able to help somehow but feeling the lack of certainty in this like a pit beneath his feet.

Was this really--

The hand he was holding gripped him tightly, and a sudden heat erupted from beside Sinbad. If not for Alibaba’s hold on him, Sinbad would have been blown away, just like the ice. As it was, he couldn’t even turn his head against the powerful current and see what exactly it was Alibaba was doing. It didn’t seem like Amon’s usual attacks. And it didn’t feel very stable either.

With a sharp yank, he found himself dragged along in a confusing, swirling vortex of water and heat. He couldn’t tell how far they managed to get before the power coming off Alibaba faltered and then flickered out like a candle in the wind.

Just before, he had caught a glimpse of white and burning orange and red.

The cold river water, no longer kept at bay, crashed over both of them, and everything faded to black.

~.~

On the cliff overhead and far behind, Drakon gingerly lowered the arm he’d raised to shield his face against the sudden explosion of fire and steam from the river crevice. He and Sham Lash assassins had been driven back several steps, and it hadn’t even been an attack, he didn’t think.

“Is that... also a djinn’s power?” he wondered.

“Only a fraction of it,” the court magician, Falan, said tonelessly. Her thick lashes had parted to show a glimmer of cold green, still looking down at the river which had quickly resumed its course. “To think one of them has this much control over it already. How could we have missed a dungeon appearing...?”

“We must claim that power for Parthevia before it becomes too much to control,” Drakon decided.

Shaking away her thoughts, Falan nodded. “Indeed. But as you are, you are no longer enough to overcome two dungeon conquerors together,” she said. “Here. Take this.”

She held up her hand. In her palm, several small, black things squirmed.

#nanowrimo #My writing

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faybexiv · 6 years

Text

Hidden Power

She walked into the camp closely behind her commanding dragoon. At her side was another dragoon, one she never bothered to get close to. Or maybe it was he that never bothered to get to know her. Whatever the reason, Fayne was never very popular with her fellow dragoons. Being probably the only Au Ra that actively worked in Ishgard Fayne was very easy to pick out among the multitude of Ishgardians. Especially in such a small camp like the Convictory. Her two counterparts were Elezen, not at all helping to build the confidence in the soldiers about her skill.

Still, there were dragon sightings in the area and she was picked to deal with them. If the soldiers didn’t like it, tough shite for them. At least that was Fayne’s thoughts on the matter. If only Ishgardian’s didn’t show their distrust so noticeably. No sooner than her commanding officer finalized preparations for their small squad to be there did Fayne feel a hard whack of cold against her the back of her helmet. She whipped around to see a pair of Elezen soldiers nonchalantly tossing a snowball in their hands. Acting, very poorly, as if they hadn’t noticed her.

“Some ‘professionals’...” she muttered to herself before snarling her way over to the one Ishgardian that actually tolerated her for who she was. He was a tall one, of course, with black hair covered by his helmet and dark brown eyes. He was very tired, being a soldier that practically lived at the camp.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he started, sitting on a stool in front of one of the tents in the camp. “They may not be the best in combat or social gatherings, but I guess that’s why they’re here in the cold freezing their arses off and not in a nice fort feasting on whatever the cook decided to roast up from the hunt that day.” There was quite the sarcasm in his tone as he smiled to the Au Ra woman.

“I’ll tell ye what though they’re askin’ fer a right good arse beatin’ in this cold if they don’t shape up,” Fayne came back, carefully tossing her arms so as not to stab herself with her own armor.

“Yes yes I know, but I highly recommend you don’t. Not unless you want to go back to hunting for a living, where you may or may not even catch your mark and you may or may not get paid?”

“Oi at least then I get to wear some actual fuckin’ armor! Or at the very least a coat.”

Her friend just laughed, “Get yourself up against the the fire then. Stay warm. We don’t need you to be frost bitten before the dragons show up to do it.”

Fayne did, keeping her arms crossed as if it helped. There was a short pause before she continued the conversation. “...Thank ye, Edont, fer actually bein’ a good one.”

Edont smiled, knowing there was more emotion in that confession than she was letting on. “Hey, someone has to watch out for you out here. That little girl needs her mother.”

Fayne smiled. It was still difficult for her to believe she was a mother now. But Twelves be damned she was proud of that little girl. The little lass was seven moons now. Seven moons of motherhood, and yes she was very tired, but thank the Twelve for Dante and Cailin. Fayne considered herself a very lucky woman. “I guess yer right. Thank ye still, fer keepin’ me sane, yeah?”

Edont just chuckled and nodded.

The day went on until the stars shined bright in the night sky. Fayne could see clouds just out in the distance though. Looked as though snow was going to fall. Great, that’s just what she needed. As fun as snow was she was not dressed for any more of it. Dragoon armor made no sense. Who thought it was a good idea to show off the vital organs to the harsh outdoors? And why was it only the woman who showed off their bellies? The spikes made sense but, the tummy? Really?

I guess it weren’t always this cold… but Twelve damn the man who never thought to change the armor with the times.

Fayne’s commanding officer pulled her from her thoughts with a strict call to her. It was her turn to scale the cliff at the back of the camp and keep watch on the sky. The other dragoon had already hopped down and was readying himself for a nap. Fayne nodded and stood, turning to Edont with a light smile and a wave. “I’ll see ye in the morn, yeah?” Edont nodded in return and crawled into his tent to sleep.

Jumping her way to the top of the cliff with spear in hand, Fayne turned back to the north where dragons were known to make their attack. Snow began to fall then as Fayne watched. Grounding her spear into the snow she leaned against it, letting herself think for a minute while she watched the snow. Her tail flicked behind her, trying to stay warm. They didn’t have a fire up there for safety reasons, but twelve was she cold in the dark. She had to get her mind off the cold.

The war is over, why stay so mad? That was way too long ago. And I thought I was able to hold a grudge. If only they could all help us. I bet the empire would have a hard time fightin’ dragons, yeah? And how cool would it be to ride on the back of a dragon into battle?!

As cool as the thought was, Fayne was doing a job. She looked out over the horizon, through the snow fall and at a funny looking group of clouds. She squinted. They really were funny looking. They almost looked like…

Flapping. Wings. Dragon wings. “Dragons inbound!” She shouted from the top of the clif, bringing her helmet down as she prepared herself for battle. “Looks like a large one with a smaller ones to come with!” She readied her spear, taking her place at the top of the cliff while the other soldiers woke from their sleep and readied themselves down below. With a short display of her own skill Fayne swung and spun her spear around her body. She thought she saw a flash of white stream in front of her eyes. Must have kicked up some snow.

Soon enough the dragons where upon them. The largest one landed but a short distance away. Just far enough to let out it’s song of war, signaling the attack to the smaller dragons, perhaps ten or fifteen of them. Small wyverns. They began diving the camp to start their attack. Some were met with steel blades while others, unfortunately, hit their mark. Fayne watched her fellow dragoons jump into the fight, targeting their own wyverns. That was when she saw two wyverns make their way to her personally.

Another short display of power and up she went. High up into the sky, and then back down hard on the wyvern to her left. She drove her spear straight into the wyvern's back, right between its shoulder blades. Immediately she jumped again, forcing the first wyvern down to the ground as she aimed for the second. Aiming for its head she made a direct hit, piercing the beast between the eyes, and down they both went.

The Au Ra jumped again just before hitting the ground to avoid just smashing into it, a small cloud of snow forming up around them. Blood spilled from the wyvern's forehead, especially so as Fayne freed her lance. There was movement just out of the corner of Fayne's eye. Turning she saw the first wyvern marching its way to her. Blood trickled from its back But it was well enough to still fight.

“Damn, didn't drive it deep enough eh?” Fayne taunted at the wyvern just before she jumped back, avoiding the beast's deadly snap. A surprising bit if snow followed her feet in that jump. Almost as if there was a small explosion that set her off.

The black wyvern snapped at her again. She struck back with her lance. The fight was becoming faintly reminiscent if her first encounter with a dragon. Only this time she was ready. She was not going to make the same mistakes.

The beast let out a deafening screech in an attempt to render its opponent prone. Though it didn't work to its full extent (thanks to a loud baby at home) Fayne was taken back just enough for the wyvern to find an opening. It kicked with deadly intent to claw up the woman before it.

Without thinking Fayne made a jump for it, swinging her lance in front of her to redirect the beast's paw just in case. They didn't make contact, but there was now a sheet of rock between the fighters. The wyvern's claws shattered the stone instead of Fayne.

There was no time to think about it. As soon as her feet hit the snow the black wyvern was after her. She deflected each of the lizzard's powerful kicks as it attempted to fly again. There was just enough pain in its shoulders that it was never truly able to take off. Though at each of Fayne's blocks a spike for ground would come following the tip of her spear. The wyvern, becoming increasingly frustrated, prepared itself for a damaging lightning attack. Fayne would have instinctively jumped out of the way, but in a split second she decided to try something new. A stupid decision.

The Au Ra was lucky. Just as the wyvern released its breath Fayne swung her lance and there was another large sheet of stone between them. The lightning struck the rock instead of her. Fayne needed to start pressing her own attack. While the beast was distracted Fayne jumped from the cover of the ice and high up into the sky. She came down again on the wyvern's head, just like she did to its partner. The force of even her small body brought the wyvern down to the snow. It was dead before it hit the ground.

Freeing her lance from the wyvern's brain Fayne took a moment to contemplate what the duck just happened. Did all of that really just happen? Did she do all of that? Is that why she felt so tired?

Her silence was interrupted by the screech of another wyvern. Her team was finishing up their own fights, but the big dragon in charge was making its advance. The snowfall was growing heavy and it gave Fayne another crazy idea. Rushing back into the fight, the Au Ra have a helping hand to whomever needed it. They were going to need every able body to help with the large dragon.

At the loud roar Fayne turned to see the dragon approaching them. She watched as two Ishgardian soldiers rushed the large beast. A couple of fools. In a flash of white the dragon had knocked them back with its claws. With a majority of the wyverns now done away with however, there were more soldiers to follow.

“I wanna try somethin'!” Fayne called to her fellow dragoons. “When I tell you, get clear of the dragon! Doesn't matter how dead it is, aye?!” the other two dragoons seemed skeptical, but her commanding officer nodded, agreeing to go along with her idea.

“If this goes badly its on your head!” he called just before jumping into action, the other dragoon close to follow.

Well no shite that's how it always works… she thought to herself before jumping to the dragon. All three dragoons landed their hits.

The dragon let out a song of both pain and rage. It swung its massive head around to snap at the dragoon twixt its shoulder blades. Its tail whipped around to hit anyone and anything. The knights below lender aid where they could. Everyone was attacking as one. Good, just what the beast needed.

Fayne, who was lucky enough to have landed on the dragon's head, dug her lance into its tough skin as deeply as she could, giving herself more grounding. The bastard was lucky his skull was so thick, but no so lucky that Fayne knew where the source of its power was. Making herself as stable as possible while the beast flailed Fayne reached for the dagger that was kept on the back of her armor and drove it deep into the dragon's eye. With a loud roar the dragon reared up in pain. Fayne jumped and made the call as loud as she could.

“Everyone clear the dragon!!”

Unable to really argue with her the other dragoons jumped clear of the dragon, gaining the attention of any soldiers and getting them to move away as well. As everyone cleared out of the way Fayne began to focus. She lifted her lanse up so the point was to the sky. The snowfall around the dragon seemed to just stop falling. The ground under the Dragon shook, and out though a layer of snow popped out very sharp shards of stone, surrounding the dragon. The dragon screamed at her. Fayne brought both her lance and herself down to the ground. The moment her lance hit the snow, the sharp rocks launched into the dragon at every angle.

Not all of them pierced through the dragons thick skin, but it was wounded enough that the stone could drive those wounds even deeper. Including the dragon's eyes. The dragon screamed and howled in pain, spreading its bloody wings in an attempt to retreat. Withing mere ticks the other dragoons were on the beast once more. Jump after decisive jump they attacked the now dazed and severely wounded dragon, until it finally came crashing to the ground, dead.

Everyone was winded. There were more than a few injuries, and even a couple casualties. The remaining wyverns were making their retreat. Though no one was more confused than Fayne, who was still kneeling in the snow, breathing as if she were going to pass out. She felt like she just might. She only moved then when she found the strength to dig her lance point down into the snow just so she could lean on it. She was so out of breath, it was unbelievable.

Her commander was the first to approach her. She looked up, still kneeling as she did not have the power to get up at that moment. It was difficult to read his expression with that helmet, but Fayne felt like she was in trouble.

“Do you want to tell me what that was?” he asked rather sternly.

Fayne paused, really unsure of how to answer him. After a few more breaths she made an attempt. “S-sir--”

“She's a witch!” shouted one of the lower ranked Ishgardian soldiers. It was clear from his face he was not a fan of Au Ra. “There's no need for the likes of her here! Why does she need a spear if she can do that!?” he made a gesture to the dead dragon. “She's a danger to everyone!”

“Stop it!” Edont, her friend, chimed in. “The dragon is dead is it not? Whatever she did it worked! You should be grateful for your life!”

“Enough!” shouted Fayne's commander. “The threat is vanquished but we are not done. I suggest you all return to camp and watch for possible reinforcements!” and with that he turned back to Fayne. “We shall discuss this back in Ishgard. For now it looks as though you are in need of a chiurgion. Go and rest.”

Fayne nodded as he and the other soldiers made their way past her. Though Edont may have been the only one to not scorn her in passing. He in fact was the only one to stop and help her when she didn't stand.

Fayne was the first to speak. “Edont… I don't.. I really don't know.. What that… Was…”

Edont stopped her with a shake of his head. “You don't have to explain yourself to me. But it does look like you need to explain it to yourself. And you had best figure it out. It looked like some sort of conjure magic, but you said you didn't know magic… that is what is so concerning…”

“I… I didn't…” she spoke breathlessly, using Edont to lean on as she attempted to stand.

Edont stopped her from trying to speak again and held her up as they made their way back to camp.

#ffxiv #rp #Fayne Firestar #conjurer #hidden power #surprise powers #magic #dragoon #dragons #fighting #wrting

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