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nelllraiser · 4 years

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quiet riot | layla & nell

TIMING: mid july. LOCATION: the mime funhouse at the carnival. PARTIES: @laylacooke and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: a trying time in the mime house leads to something even more unexpected. CONTENTS: parental abuse mention.

Nell hadn’t realized it was a Mime Fun House when she handed her tickets to the attraction attendant, having blissfully walked up the ramp to the entrance of it. Immediately, she’d realized her mistake upon entering, and tried to backtrack. Unfortunately, it seemed like that wasn’t an option. Now, she was walking along the black and white and striped hallways of the cursed house, regarding every mime painting on the wall with squinted eyes, as if on high alert should any of them suddenly somehow jump to life. As always, her knives were still in her boots, and it was taking every ounce of her self control not to draw them when she was surrounded by who she thought to be the enemy. Suddenly, movement caught her eye, and she tensed. If there were fucking mime actors in this house she was going to lose her god damned mind. “If you fucking touch me I’ll shank you in places you didn’t even know existed on your body,” she threatened to the shadow, not willing to have any sort of mime fuckery today.

Why Layla had come back to this thing was something she couldn’t explain. She had just been drawn in. Every night, since the carnival had come to town, she could hear the music floating all over White Crest and the excitement it brought out in her was like a kid in a toy shop around Christmas time. But how she had found herself in the Mime Fun House was beyond her. Maybe it had been some innate instinct to want to take the muted monsters out. Or maybe it was the doing of magic. Regardless, she entered through the narrow doorway and now she was stuck. And with each step forward, she could feel her heart racing just a little harder. Her werewolf senses had been on high alert, but luckily her claws hadn’t come out yet. At least not until she noticed she wasn’t alone and heard the creaking of the rickety old floor. A low growl, she inched closer, now feeling claws jutting out of her finger tips, until she heard the voice. Letting out a huff of relief, Layla stepped forward with her hands up, claw tips still protruding, “Whoa! Hold up! It’s me! It’s me, Layla...I’m not gonna hurt you!” She had already been stabbed once, and she prayed it wouldn’t happen again in a damn house full of mime fuckery.

It wasn’t strange for Nell to return to the carnival more than once. After all, she’d done much of the same growing up in White Crest every year, and every summer. Still, The Mime Fun House was decidedly...the very opposite of fun. And after her encounter with the Hall of Mirrors, she wouldn’t put it past this cursed place to make some sort of attempted murder or otherwise. Whether it was intentional or not. Nell herself had drawn a knife in reflex, not looking to get attacked by any sort of mime today...or ever. But as Layla stepped forward into the wan light, her shoulders lost some of their tension. “Oh, it’s you.” She hadn’t seen the wolf since their encounter at the lake, and before that, her attempt on Layla’s life in the forest. “Fuck this fucking house, honestly,” Nell cursed as her knife hand relaxed as well, though she didn’t sheathe the weapon back into its hiding spot. “Mimes are the worst part of White Crest. I’ll never get why the freaks here love them.”

When Layla saw Nell relax, it gave her some relief. She still didn’t trust the woman after their past two meetups. In fact, she would have rather been in the Mime Fun House with anyone, but Nell. Okay, maybe not anyone, but at least someone that didn’t want to kill her, “Well, we’ve got one thing in common I guess. We both fucking hate mimes.” Her claws remained out from fear of anything else that might be lurking just around the corner, but it didn’t stop her from asking Nell to put her knife away, “And hey, little suggestion, but maybe put your knife away or go in front of me, because I don’t trust you. Not after having that thing at my throat and then having you and your little hunter friend threaten to kill me repeatedly if I didn’t save this Godforsaken shithole of a town.” Hearing a noise, she jumped; claws jutting out further, until she realized it was just someone walking around above them on a different floor.

Trust was a two way street, and unfortunately it seemed that neither Layla nor Nell had even begun to pave that road in hopes of traversing it. Of course, with Nic’s word backing Layla, Nell was now less inclined to be suspicious of the wolf. Unfortunately, that still left her with the problem of what to tell Layla’s parents, as well as what to do with the redhead standing in front of her. “That’s because anyone who’s half sane hates mimes.” It was the closest thing to nice that Nell seemed to be able to say for the moment. With a hearty roll of her eyes, and slight flick of her knife, the witch was quick to reply. “First off, I’d never even met anyone there besides you before the ritual at the lake, so no- I barely know Athena. Secondly, we literally never threatened to kill you at the lake. Third of all, you should have wanted to fucking save it in the first place, cause that’s what any decent person would do.” Despite her words, she went in front of Layla to lead the way, shoulders squared against whatever mimes might pop out at them, knife lowered, but still drawn. “And put your claws away if you don’t want someone else seeing you and trying to hunt you.”

The words cut to the bone, and as Nell moved forward, Layla let the sting of hot, silent tears release. Telling the teenager she wasn’t a decent person sent her mind back to her parents and the harsh words they used to say to her. So much pressure put on a child, and, now, Nell was doing the exact same fucking thing. And unfortunately for Layla, putting her claws back in wasn’t as easy as a non-werewolf assumed. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide her fingers and pushed past Nell taking the lead again, “You don’t know a fucking thing about me. And telling me I’m not a decent person, because I didn’t automatically want to play hero and save the fucking world at nineteen years old, doesn’t make you any better than me.” Her voice was low, and instead of waiting for Nell, the teenager moved through the cursed fun house at a quicker pace ignoring anything that managed to pop out as she walked further into the maze of halls and rooms.

Looking over her shoulder, Nell wasn’t sure what to make of Layla crying. Sure, she wasn’t the werewolf’s biggest fan, but she didn’t want her to cry. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just meant it’s safer if you hide them.” Did that not show how Nell didn’t want Layla to get hurt? However, she had less sympathy for Layla’s lack of drive to help people in need or the town. It wasn’t something Nell could entirely understand. But the way Layla phrased the words was enough to make Nell think back to her own conversation with Alain, and how she wished he would have responded to her, rather than the way he did. “I know I don’t. And I don’t think I’m better than anyone, so it’d probably be better to not make assumptions about me in return. I know you’re young, but unfortunately the world we live in isn’t a merciful one. And sometimes those choices just need to be made. That’s just the reality of it. And you probably would have gone down along with the town, and Frankie, too. Isn’t that worth saving, at least?” She rolled her eyes where Layla couldn’t see it as the werewolf walked away, trodding after her and glaring at anything that so much as came close to her. The maze was a bit trickier, though. It seemed that...no matter what way they moved, they always came to a dead end, even when Nell was certain they’d tried every direction. It was enough to put a sinking feeling of dread in her gut. What were the mimes planning?

Layla’s astute hearing had picked up on everything Nell had said. Yes, she wanted Frankie to be safe. No, she didn’t want the town to end, or the world, but why was this shit on her shoulders? From the day she was born, Layla’s life had been planned out for her, and when those plans didn’t turn out the way her parents had wanted, it was determined that the teenager had to die. So she ran, but her life still hadn’t been her own. It now belonged to that of the creature that bit her, forcing her into one of its kind and then leaving her for dead. She had just wanted a chance at a normal life. Sure, watching Buffy Summers save the world looked cool, but it was a tv show. Layla Cooke didn’t want to save the world. She wanted to live in it. And thrive. And have a family with the woman she loved. And as she made her way into yet another dead end, she could feel her anger welling up. So much so that she slammed her balled fist into the striped wall leaving a hole in return. A growl came from deep within her chest, before she fell to her knees defeated. Of all the places to be stuck, she had to be stuck in this hell hole with a bounty hunter that was so determined to hate her, that Layla just didn’t have any fight to go on, “Why don’t you stupid fucking mimes just come out and take me already! What do you want from me?!”

As Layla collapsed to the ground, Nell instinctively lurched forwards to try and lift the girl back to her feet. “I wouldn’t do that, I don’t trust these mimes not to do something fucking cursed. And I know a mime that stabbed someone, once.” As soon as she’d said the words, the stillness of the house seemed to break, and mimes began to crawl towards them from all angles, stripes and sharpened grins surrounding them from every side as they advanced quickly, crab-walking all the way. “Back the fuck off!” Nell yelled, magic instinctively pooling in her hands. She was not going to be attacked by mimes. Not today, not ever. The one who got closest to her earned a reflexive punch to the face from Nell’s clenched fist. Promptly, the mime’s face crumpled in on itself, momentarily disfigured before a striped finger was brought to his lips, like a baby sucking their thumb. Instead, his cheeks began to puff out, as if he were trying to re-inflate himself. And it worked. Slowly, the mime’s face pushed back into its original place. That was when Nell decided she’d had enough of the mime house. “Come on!” Nell called out to Layla, reaching to grab the girl’s hand in her to give it a tug so they could run for it. Her hand burst forward, releasing the magic and cracking the wall before them in two.

As soon as Nell spoke, the mimes had made their move. Eyes wide and back on her feet from the woman’s assistance, Layla backed into the wall frantically. It was the grip of a white gloved hand on her shoulder that caused her to scream, and without hesitating, she jerked away from the cursed creature. They were coming from everywhere, and without thinking, the redhead found herself slashing and clawing off mimes. Heightened hearing allowed her to pick up on the walls and just how many of the damned creatures were really lurking. Hearing Nell, she latched onto the spellcaster’s hand and started moving. Not stopping even as the wall in front of them exploded. Layla had just wanted to get out of there. Everything had started to close in on them as more mimes poured from the shadows, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause a mime shit-show!” She yelled out to the Vural sister while she swiped, clawed, and dodged her way through a black and white nightmare.

As Nell barreled through the wall, she did her best to pull Layla after her. They stepped into the light of the outside world, and strangely the mimes seemed to go no further than the perimeter of the house they’d been residing in. There they were, simply staring with unblinking eyes at the pair of girls, huddled around the jagged edges of the house. Nell stared back for a long moment before flipping them off, and soon the voice of the attraction operator could be heard, yelling in their direction. “Hey! What the hell?! You just ripped a hole in my mime house! I’m calling the cops!” Her head whipped towards the man that was red in the face, and coming towards them before she said, “Get a less shitty house!” Nell’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the mimes had attacked, but the mood was shifting from dire to something lighter as she once again yanked on Layla’s hand. “Run! Keep running!” As her strides carried her away from the mime house, she began to laugh, the utter ridiculousness of the situation getting the better of her.

Bursting into freedom away from the Little Mime Shop of Horrors, Layla felt instant relief. Already, she could feel her eyes changing back to normal and her fangs and claws retracting. They had found the mimes weakness: the outside world. And as she listened to Nell and the owner exchange words, the teenager couldn’t help but bend over in the hopes of catching her breath. The word ‘cops’ floating through the air didn’t seem to make things better, and when Nell told her to run, she resumed her sprint forward and away from all the chaos of the carnival, “What the fuck was that?!” She heaved as she spoke and finally stopped running when the pair had made it into the woods away from all the insanity. Collapsing to the ground, Layla took in long slow gasps of air, “I can’t get arrested again, Nell!” She wiped the sweat off of her brow listening closely to see if they had been followed, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Once the angry carnival worker had faded into the distance, Nell stopped to catch her breath, her laughs growing stronger as the chaotic nature of the situation set in. “Oh, come on,” she teased in a lighthearted tone, the relief and rush of making a break for it pulling her lips into a grin. “Getting arrested isn’t that bad.” She’d lost count of how many times the cops had brought her in, though she always managed to get out of it— whether it was with the help of her mother’s connections, magic, or sheer, dumb luck. Of course, she supposed it depended what you were being arrested for. Either way, she was just glad to be out of that mime hell hole. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” But now that the carnival was far behind them, and her mood had been brightened by a good escape, Nell chewed on her bottom lip, readying herself to do something she hated doing, and something she didn’t do all that often. “Look- I really don’t mean any ill will towards you. And it was shitty of me to try and kill you.” That was the best apology she could manage.

Layla wanted to rip Nell a new one. She wanted to go off of her so badly, but she refrained. Their relationship was like nails on a chalkboard, and she cringed every time she thought of all the ways they would dig at each other. Yet, instead of speaking, she simply rolled her eyes while she strived to breathe in air and find a normal heart rate. It was the words that seemed to come out of Nell’s mouth towards the end that had genuinely surprised her though. Did she just apologize? Taking one final deep breath, the teenager wanted to hear it again, but knew that wouldn’t be an option. However, she did let the words play on repeat for a moment, before she spoke, “Did you just apologize to me? I mean, yeah. It was shitty, considering I didn't do a damn thing to you, but I guess I accept your apology. If that’s what that was.” She glanced around, before looking back to Nell, “I know we’re probably never going to be friends, but I mean, yeah. I appreciate what you just said.” It felt awkward. It was awkward, but she had accepted it, knowing that was probably all she was going to get.

Nell didn’t make eye contact as Layla asked for confirmation, and all the witch could offer her was the subtlest of nods. “At least my version of one.” She wouldn’t apologize for her line of work, but it was obvious that she’d been wrong to try and kill Layla, an innocent werewolf rather than one of the nastier ones out there. “It wasn’t personal, you know that.” Because it hadn’t been. It had been as personal as a barista handing a coffee to someone in their cafe while they waited for the clock to strike four, so they could get off work and go home. As for friends, it was difficult to tell if that was an option. Even aside from the whole attempted murder thing, Nell couldn’t help but feel that there were just some things the pair of them didn’t see eye to eye on. But now, at least they’d be able to ease off each other’s throats. “Great. Now let’s get out of here.”

#quiet riot #chatzy #ch:layla #abuse mention tw

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author-morgan · 4 years

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Phobia ☤ Alexios

fourteen - the hospitality of pirates

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

POSEIDON HAS BESTOWED them with a calm night at sea. The breeze is gentle and warm. Filling the sails to aid their journey to Keos. The water is dark and tranquil, save for the rise and fall of the tides. Everyone aboard the Adrestia are enjoying the quiet, but Alexios is restless. It's like he isn't sure what to do with himself in moments of peace anymore. Even Barnabas and the historian have taken a reprieve from the helm for the night.

The Eagle Bearer glances over his shoulder at the princess. Her bronze-scaled linothorax is tossed aside, lying next to his dark leather cuirass. White linen is still wrapped around her thigh, exposed by the way her Athenian blue chiton rides up. She's asleep or resting her eyes -he's unsure which it is, but he goes to her out of impulse.

Alexios crouches next to her and lays his hand on her shoulder –whispering her name. "Fuck," she breathes, rolling onto her side. A moment later one of her eyes opens -sparkling like storm clouds right before lightning strikes- and focuses on the person who'd disrupted her blissful dream.

He smiles, and Irene supposes there are worst sights to look upon after being woken. "You've got a foul mouth, princess," he notes, teasing.

She glares at him. You shouldn't curse so much Zephyr used to say, she'd never taken that advice. Few things could provide instant satisfaction like a well-timed curse. "And you've got a foul scent, misthios," Irene bites back, propping her head up.

His smile falters -caught off guard by how quickly she utters the sharp response. "You speak to anyone like that?" Alexios asks, imagining certain people wouldn't take kindly to being insulted in such a manner. He's earned more than a few bloody noses and black eyes for not biting his tongue.

Irene sits up and stretches, lifting her arms out and above her head. "Believe me," she says, breath catching when her back pops, "this silvertongue has gotten me into and out of a lot of trouble."

A concupiscent glint appears in his eyes -dark and warm like cinnamon. Alexios smirks. "Is that all it can do?" Irene rolls her eyes and pushes him off-balance. He falls back to the deck, laughing softly.

"So why did you disturb my slumber?" She asks, crossing her arms. He doesn't say anything, only rises from the deck and motions for her to follow. The princess follows him to the bow of the Adrestia.

"What are you doing?" Irene bids as he steps over the prow of the ship and slides down onto the gilded ram. "You're mad!" She hisses, trying not to wake everyone aboard the ship. Alexios ignores her. Once he balances himself, he turns and extends his hand toward her. Against better judgment, Irene places her hand in his.

Alexios steadies her as the ram dips below the water's surface and Irene extends her arms out like wings -feeling the salt spray kiss her palms. Before her is only open water, shining silver with the Moon's reflection. No land in sight, nor another vessel. Among the sea's powers is the ability to make even the bravest of warriors feel small. The princess closes her eyes, succumbing to her reverie.

"Feels like you're flying doesn't it?" Only after he speaks does Irene realize how close they are –his chest, sans armor, is flush against her back, strong hands are holding her onto her waist, his warm breath hitting her neck. She shivers despite the warm and humid air.

KEOS, LESTRIS, AND Seriphos form the triad known as the Pirate Islands. In all her travels, Irene has never lingered near them for longer than needed. The rumors surrounding how Koressia came to be under pirate control were enough to even make veteran sailors bristle with discomfort. Clear, turquoise waters give Keos the veneer of paradise. After docking in Poiessa though, the stench of death becomes apparent and Irene realizes every rumor ever told about the pirates of Keos was true.

Phobos stops on a hill overlooking the burnt city of Koressia, though the temple dedicated to Athena remains unscathed save for the black banners hanging from scaffolds. Alexios dismounts Phobos and looks up at the princess still astride the blood bay stallion. She'd offered to go with him to meet Xenia, but he insists on going alone. This quest was his burden no matter how willing she was to help shoulder the weight.

He ties his sword, bow, and quiver to Phobos' saddle blanket, but secures the broken spear to his back with a rope baldric. He's not foolish enough to march into a pirate settlement completely unarmed. "I'll meet you back at the Adrestia," he tells her, setting off along a narrow, winding path downward. Irene waits until he is out of sight before taking up the reins and turning Phobos back toward Poiessa.

Alexios returns as the final supplies are being loaded below deck. Barnabas is eager to put the Pirate Islands behind him. Irene learns it had been off the northern coast of Keos where his ship had sunk, stranding him and his beloved Leda -claiming his right eye too. As if that hadn't been enough, they washed up on a white sand beach greeted at spear and knifepoint by the malákes.

By sunset they leave port again, charting a course to Korinthia to follow Alkibiades lead with the hetaera. Xenia provided the information Alexios seeks for a price and provides the opportunity to hunt the Golden Feather of Ajax should he wish to earn the fee back. Barnabas, Herodotus, Irene, and Alexios sit and the small fire at the stern of the ship, sharing a sweet Samian wine.

"My mother!" The Eagle Bearer exclaims as Irene passes a kylix of watered wine to him. "A pirate!" A piece of him wonders if Xenia had told the truth, but the fondness in the pirate queen's voice tells him she had.

"She sounds like quite a woman," Irene remarks, shifting closer to both the fire and Alexios. Daughter of King Leonidas, fugitive of Sparta and pirate -the list of monikers for Myrrine may very well grow longer before he is reunited with his mother.

TELLIA GROANS, THREE fingers on her draw hand are mangled after fending off a pirate trireme and pentekonter. Irene prepares a cataplasm of aloe and symphis for after the procedure and checks the dagger placed in the brazier. It is not ready yet. She kneels next to the archer and presents an anodyne of hemlock and violet mixed with watered wine -for pain. Tellia downs the bitter drink, tossing the silver cup aside and takes a strip of leather between her teeth.

Irene binds Tellia's forefinger and thumb together -they were not maimed as the others. Flesh hangs from bone and blood puddles beneath her hand. The smallest finger must be removed completely, but the other two can be salvaged below the first knuckle. The princess checks the dagger again, this time the iron blade is glowing red. Mikythos kneels, having agreed to assist, and grips onto the hilt of the cautery.

The archer screams to the heavens when Irene brings down the edge of a freshly sharpened knife, severing the smallest finger. Before she screams again, the other two mangled extremities are gone too. Mikythos presses the flat of the glowing blade against the bloody stumps. Tellia's eyes go wide before she faints against the mast.

Pleased with how the wounds sealed, Irene thanks Mikythos for his assistance and bids him discard the amputated fingers. She washes away the blood and cleans the burns before applying the cataplasm and wrapping Tellia's disfigured hand with linen. She wouldn't draw a bow again, but she could learn to wield a sword and shield.

Despite the slim cut on her cheek and arm, the princess insists on tending to others -it's in her nature. Though she is skilled with a blade and has sent more than a handful of people to the Gates of Hades, there's an innate desire deep in her being to help others. By the time she cleans and binds the wounds of both rowers and warriors, it has grown late. She retires beneath the bowpost, stretching out aching limbs. Soon after, Alexios joins her. "You're unscathed?" Irene asks, raising a dark brow at the blood still staining his cuirass.

He nods and a smirk crosses his lips. "I am the Eagle Bearer," Alexios remarks, tone cocksure and goading as though that title alone makes him untouchable. She rolls her eyes, leaning forward to loosen the ties of her dented greaves -one of the strips of cloth has slipped into a tight knot. His fingers brush over hers, breaking her focus as he deftly pulls on the tie and forcing the knot to come loose. Irene pushes back her hair, tucking dark strands behind her ear. "You have my thanks for helping the crew," Alexios tells her, his smile genuine.

Irene settles back into the alcove. "Well, you better hope we don't run into many more pirates on the way to Korinth. I don't have many herbs left." She'd used the last of the hemlock to help ease Tellia's pain, even her store of dry fennel was nearly gone. Alexios leans back next to Irene and crosses his arms. Gaze quickly darting from her to the sky where the last light of the sun is slipping away beneath the dark horizon.

"Trouble has a nasty habit of following me," he tells her. The princess lets a dry chuckle pass through her lips -trouble follows her too and in that aspect, perhaps they are a match made by the gods.

#Alexios #Alexios x OC #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Phobia #my writing

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warlordfelwinter · 6 years

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i haven’t finished forsaken yet but i’m enjoying it so far (by that i mean i’ve cried a lot) and it’s all so perfect for Delphi, honestly, and i felt like writing something, so here’s a little drabble about an oracle and his gang of rogue guardians about to go beat ass. some spoilers, but nothing major.

You cannot leave now, not when they need you more than ever.

Zavala’s words echoed in Delphi’s mind as he glared out at the purple haze of the Reef. He had vague memories of this place, from a life before his own, but now it only reminded him of death.

He understood what Zavala was doing and part of him agreed with it. The Guardians couldn’t afford to start a war, not so soon after the Red War, not so soon after so many had died. He also understood Ikora’s desire to start a war. Which left him here, mostly alone, at the edge of a place Zavala had forbidden Guardians to go.

But Delphi didn’t answer to the Vanguard and he was happy to take on this war for them. Cayde had understood him. Out of the three of them, Cayde and Delphi had always gotten along best, he had been the only one Delphi would have considered a friend instead of a coworker. He remembered the times the Hunter Vanguard had come to him to chat, as so many Guardians did. Conversations that were shared over ramen instead of tea. Cayde was the only one of the Vanguard who never tried to compare him to the Speaker.

Delphi closed his eyes, feeling his throat tighten. He bounced a leg restlessly, hands trembling.

“Breathe, little one.”

He glanced at Athena, hovering nearby. Her tone was soft and loving and she pushed her shell against his cheek slightly. He took a deep, shaky breath and tried to steady himself.

“Focus that rage. Use it. But don’t let it distract you.”

Delphi nodded. He stood up, ducking, and moved out of the cockpit into the belly of his jumpship where Fireteam Anubis sat.

Ammit was like him. She did not answer to the Vanguard, not truly. She served the City, but she had never formally become a Guardian. When Delphi told her what he intended to do, she put on old armor, bearing ancient insignias. She went to the Vanguard and announced that she was no longer a Guardian of the Last City.

‘I am Warlord Ammit-4 and I bow to none. I will go to the Reef and teach Uldren what it means to sit on a throne,’ she had snarled.

‘Then you will face exile,’ Ikora had replied. They were old friends, but she had taken the news with a hidden smile. Zavala had merely stared at Delphi, who stood at Ammit’s side, a quiet disappointment in his eyes.

The Warlord looked at him now, with a smile in the lights in her cheeks. It was dimmer than usual, tinged with sadness.

Mau sat next to her, gaze unfocused. She had no title to cling to to find a loophole in Zavala’s orders. But she had come without hesitation, fury in her every movement, her fire burning brightly.

Medjay sat across from them, the only sound in the cargo bay the slow drag of her dagger as she sharpened it. She had hardly spoken since she had accepted the mission. There was a slash of red paint across her chest armor. There were no words to her anger. Her grief was that of a Hunter, found in a bloody mark, and the blade of a knife.

Next to her sat a Fallen Marauder, with the least motive of any of them and, without Light, the most to lose. Delphi wasn’t sure Kipyks had ever even met Cayde, but she had come along for Medjay.

“We’re close,” Delphi said, getting their attention. “Everyone ready?”

Medjay nodded silently and Kipyks mirrored her. Mau cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders. Ammit stood and pushed Delphi gently back into the small hall between the cockpit and the cargo area, closing the door behind her.

“Are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Delphi said. Ammit looked at him for a moment in silence, before nodding.

“I know,” she said. She leaned down, nuzzling him. Delphi melted into the hug, letting out a shaky breath. Ammit tightened her embrace.

“We will find him,” she said. “And we will bring him to a painful end.”

Delphi stepped back and nodded. There was no doubt in the Warlord’s voice and her confidence let a strange emptiness settle over his mind. He looked at Athena and she blinked, shaking her shell slightly.

“Uldren doesn’t stand a chance.”

#d2 forsaken #destiny #spoilers #fic #mini fic #oc: delphi #oc: ammit4 #oc: mau #oc: medjay #oc: kipyks

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