#HOLD FAST ON KNUCKLES gave a sailor a good grip
Text
Day 3: Scale
"Damn it all... It ain't stoppin'...."
The night air was upsettingly warm, even up in the crow’s nest of the Squallbreaker. Remeraux gulped it down in short, unsteady breaths as she slouched back in the basket of her lookout point, gripping her dull brass spyglass so hard her knuckles were white from the exertion. She was all nervous energy, molars grinding, boot tap-tap-tapping against the thick wood planks that held her aloft. She wanted desperately to be doing anything else but this, freed from the purgatory of sitting and watching and waiting.
On most nights, she’d be up there scanning the horizon for ships, or with her sextant to help chart the evening’s course with Miss Glass. For the past week, she nor anyone else on the ship could focus on anything else in the sky but one thing, nervously stealing glances when they knew they needed to be working.
The lesser moon, Dalamud, as it grew larger and larger in the sky.
It had been throwing off the seas for days now, making them rough and roiling. None of them had an explanation for what was going on, and they’d tried their best to come up with one. She’d sat alongside the rest of the Captain’s Council, her arms crossed, listening as Xavier gave his best shot in the dark. He’d always been the most scholarly of the bunch of them. An unexplained celestial phenomenon was about the long and the short of what Remeraux was able to pick up, but she knew as well as anyone that the moons made the tides, and too much tide spelled doom for any ship. It didn’t take a Sharlayan academic to tell them what they needed to do: make it out of the open seas as fast as they could, and find somewhere to lay low while whatever malady plagued the heavens ran its course. But as the night wore on… Remeraux was afraid they weren’t going to make it in time. The moon, it seemed, was racing them to shore.
Wham!
Remeraux swore under her breath and braced herself, planting her feet hard against the wall as the ship lurched sharply once again. A hail of shouts from the sailors below rang up to her ears as the Squallbreaker was buffeted once again by the angry tide. Her concentration on the horizon was broken as she looked down to survey the damage, seeing her family soaked like rats, sputtering and cursing but otherwise all accounted for, scrambling about their business. Ankaswys’s voice carried the loudest like always, and Remeraux could make out snippets of phrases like “Heave! Pull on those ropes like the whoresons owe you money!” and “If I don’t see that tied off in ten seconds I’ll toss you overboard myself!” Remeraux would normally think that typical of Anka, but even she could hear the raw edge of fear under her usual bravado just barely concealed. Remeraux scowled. She was usually so damn good about concealing it, heard tell that she’d once seen Leviathan face-to-face and spat in his eye. For her to be frightened... Remeraux shook her head vigorously as if she could dislodge the thoughts by action alone. She snapped herself back to focus, and raised her spyglass back up.
All she could see was red, subsuming her field of view, a lattice of spiderweb cracks snaking across her view. It took her a second to realize what she was seeing… and a second longer for her to realize that she didn’t need the spyglass anymore.
Mouth completely dry, skin crawling, she shakily lowered her hands, and just watched as the moon grew larger and larger on the horizon. It had started like a dinner plate, spent the day a boulder, but now?
It now looked, finally, exactly like what it was: a celestial body, tumbling down from the heavens.
No metaphor could contain the scale of that reality.
And, unblinking, heart hammering in her chest… she watched the cracks begin to widen.
“Everyone, hold on to somethi—!”
A wave of heat and force shoved the shouted words back down Remeraux’s throat, slamming her back hard against the lip of the nest. She wrapped her arms around the mast and held on for dear life as the world had turned around her into a blacksmith’s furnace. Through squinted eyes, all she could see was red and noise before she had to slam them shut again, feeling them beginning to dry and bake under the onslaught. She could feel her skin begin to blister, hear the sizzle and hiss of all of that wet wood drying, and smell steam begin to turn to woodsmoke. And through it all, a horrible scream, inhuman in its depths of anger. Inhuman in its depths of anguish.
She didn’t know how long it raged against them, but for one brief moment there was calm. Eerie calm. The roar of thunder rumbling after lightning. But before she could dare to squeeze one eye open, she felt everything begin to tilt, sliding her further and further back into the wall she’d been leaning against. And when she did, for that one delirious moment before between hot and cold, all she could do was chuckle in disbelief. She was staring up—not down, but up— at a wall of water, curving towards them like the headsman’s blade. Like they were a toy boat that had been washed out to sea.
Remeraux didn’t even have time to brace herself before the wave came crashing down upon them.
The mast she’d been grasping onto exploded into splinters in her hands, and a white hot lance of pain through her side tore a jagged scream out of her, muffled into the water that all too greedily rushed into the opening provided as she was dragged further and further into the churning waters.
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Fond Farewell
Short Story by Nathaerus Reauloix ~ Mateus
“Grab your cups, lads!” Nathaerus called out cheerfully as he approached his crew at the long table in the galley with a fresh round of ale, “And lasses!” shouted a Miqo’te woman at the far end of the table. He laughed heartily at that, and gave the woman a wink, “Of course. I would never forget the lasses, especially one as lovely as you, but for my error of making you think you’d been forsaken, I will deliver your ale personally.”
He set down the tray of steins and slid two aside as the remainder were set upon immediately by the parched crewmates as they offered scattered thanks and grunts of acknowledgement. As the Elezen hoisted the claimed steins for himself and the woman at the opposite end of the long communal table, a rough looking Roegadyn the size of a bear gave him a jarring pat on the back before resting his lumbering arm over the Elezen’s shoulders, “You’re alright, lad. At first I didn’t think you’d be a lick of help here, what with you lookin’ like a scrawny sack o’ shite like you do, but, this has been a smoother tour than I’ve had in ages, thanks in part to yer skills. Ye’ll be missed, my boy.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Hareswerd! We’ve still got one more night to get through together, hm? It’s not over until we reach the airship dock in Limsa. There’s still plenty of time for me to disappoint you!” Nathaerus said, voice full of mirth as he nimbly pivoted out of Hareswerd’s grasp and made his way to the Miqo’te.
She swished her tail excitedly as he approached. Circling around behind her, he bent down over her shoulder, chest pressed lightly to her back. He placed his mouth close to her ear as he set down the ale in front of her, “And for you.” he said lowly before dropping his voice to a whisper to continue, “We’ve one more evening on this vessel. Last chance to make good on my offer. Give it some thought, Khipi.” The woman blushed furiously as Nathaerus stood, letting his touch linger gently on her shoulder before making his way to the head of the table.
He cleared his throat and raised his own glass in the air, “To clear skies, honest gil, and the hardest working crew in Eorzea!”
The motley group at the table cheered and clattered their steins together in a symbol of camaraderie before downing the contents. Nathaerus brought his own mug to his lips then paused, setting it on the table. He snapped his fingers as if realizing something brilliant for the first time, “I should bring a little after dinner drink to some of the skeleton crew for being so kind as to allow us this final farewell.” He grinned conspiratorially, “You all won’t sell me out to the captain for giving the men something to lift their spirits for their selfless deeds will you?” the group scoffed and waved him off. He gave them an apologetic grin for his oversight that would leave his friends deprived of his presence for a short while.
Nathaerus wandered back to the barrels along the wall of the galley, kneeling down to reach the tap. Filling each stein one by one, he tapped an extra ingredient from a vial hidden up his right sleeve ; a simple sleeping powder he’d purchased from an apothecary, to help him get some rest from the constant noise of the airship engines, he’d claimed.
Some people found the droning of the machina soothing, but no, not Nathaerus. His senses were simply too delicate, and he couldn’t possibly manage without something to help him rest. He would let his crew down if he worked sleep-deprived. He’d be fired, and his poor mother counted on his wages too!
The apothecary had taken the bait and given him enough to last an entire contracted stint on an airship or, to lace the drinks of the lookouts the night before the end of his contract to allow him to work in peace.
Offering Khipi a final wink on his way out of the galley, he wandered over to the slim crew that had been left to stand watch over the cargo room making sure to give a wide berth to the helm and the captain’s quarters on his way. The lookouts offered him a nod of thanks and well wishes on wherever his next job would take him. Nathaerus stayed to exchange a few pleasantries before heading back down to the rest of the group.
He turned the corner of the narrow corridor back to the galley and nearly ran directly into Khipi. She jumped back in surprise and then averted her gaze quickly.
“I - was getting tired, and I...I wanted to make sure I saw you before I went to bed.” her cheeks flushed as she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
Nathaerus smirked, olive eyes shining with interest at her sudden bashfulness , “Did you now? What could I, a simple sailor, possibly help the Chief Steward with at so late an hour?” his voice was filled with amusement as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Khipi. For every steady step he took, she shuffled back with equally unsure steps until her back hit the wall at the end of the corridor. Nathaerus placed one hand beside her head on the wall and ghosted his fingertips over one of her shoulders with the other, “Well?” he asked and paused, awaiting her answer.
In response, Khipi took a deep breath, pushed herself from the wall and jumped, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply. Nathaerus returned the kiss while he grasped at her waist, sliding his fingers along her side to fish for the small key ring which she always carried. When his index finger hit the metal ring, he deftly found the clip and released it from her belt loop,tucking it into his pants’ pocket. He laughed softly to break the kiss with the woman, “Now now, Khipi. What would the captain say if he saw you behaving this way, really?”
The Miqo’te released her grasp on the man and dropped down to the floor with a huff and a light thud. “I’ll be in my room then!” she declared and stared at him meaningfully for a moment before smoothing her hair down and heading off in the opposite direction.That had been a lucky break and easier than he’d expected. He’d planned to spend another several hours drinking with the crew to get an opportunity to free the key ring from her.
He whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he made his way back to the galley which was in an uproar. Deep in their cups, the rest of the crew had begun a bare knuckle boxing match between some of the rougher members, and the din of the blows combined with the cheers of the spectators was enough to drown out most anything happening on the ship at this time of night. Nathaerus peered in from the doorway taking care not to be seen.
This was as good a time as any.
He retraced his steps back to the cargo hold, and laughed lightly as he bent down to pat one of the passed out guards on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, my good man.” Nathaerus checked over each shoulder for unwanted lookers-on before he flipped through the key chain, trying several before finally the door gave way with a click of the tumbles falling into place. Nath slipped in and pushed the heavy door shut behind him.
He knew what he was looking for, a crate from the goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah shipping a custom order necklace for some relocated merchant’s daughter in Costa del Sol by way of Limsa. It would be small, and bearing the emblem of the guild, and he need only find it, pry it open, take the necklace and be gone before anyone noticed he was missing from his own farewell party.
He made his way around the room methodically by the dim light available in the hold. Boxes of textiles, food, and other mundane goods were available in abundance, but the small box of jewels remained hidden like buried treasure. After several false starts, from the corner of his eye he caught the emblem of the Goldsmith’s Guild burned into the wood of a crate in the back corner of the room. He dashed over, and with a practiced hand, prised open the lid.
There it was, silver chain with a large emerald set in a ring of diamonds attached to the chain. Nathaerus whistled, impressed, as he lifted it from the crate and held it in front of him, the light dancing off the jewels, mesmerizing him. So much so that he didn’t hear the door open behind him.
“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing in here? What happened to the boys out fr-” the bellowing voice stopped and Nathaerus heard the click of a gun, “Yer trying to steal from me, you filthy sky rat! I ought to take the brains out of yer head since you clearly ain’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathaerus slipped the chain of the necklace around his index finger and slowly stood, raising his hands in surrender before pivoting to face the voice he already knew.
The captain was a hulking Roegadyn man, his face was turning red and his rage was punctuated by the barrel of the rifle that he had aimed directly at Nathaerus.
“Captain! I wasn’t expecting your delightful company!” Nathaerus cautiously watched the man as he began, “You could, in fact kill me here, but I suspect that might bode poorly for your operations.”
The man tightened his grip on his rifle, “ An’ how do ye figure that? I kill a thief on board my vessel, and I’m a bloody hero.”
“Hm, not quite. First, you’d run the risk of damaging your cargo since all you’ve got to kill me is that inaccurate rifle. But let’s say for fun you do manage it. You’d still need to answer for why there’s a body on your ship once you dock. You could throw my body over, but I am well beloved by the crew, more than you, with all due respect...sir. The crew would notice my absence and be disinclined to believe your tale about me being a thief all along and get the officials involved when you dock. Then, of course, they would conduct a thorough investigation of your vessel.”
The captain raised his rifle to aim at Nathaerus’s head, “Make your point, and make it fast, you knife-eared piece of shite.”
“Well, sir. I think this might be an issue.” Nathaerus kicked the wall beside him and knocked loose a plank on the wall, sending large satchels of somnus spilling forth. The captain seemed shaken and his grip on the gun faltered.
Nathaerus left no time for the man to reply, “I chose your ship for a reason. Two, really, but only one that matters to you at the moment.” His face broke into a grin as he continued, “You can either let me walk off of this ship with this trinket whose value pales in comparison to that of your real cargo, or, you can risk having your entire operation exposed. Entirely your call, Captain” he said, the last word dripping with sarcasm.
For what felt like an eternity, the Roegadyn kept the gun trained on Nathaerus before he finally relented with a groan of frustration. “Take the bloody necklace, but you will never work for me again. I never want to see that shite-eating grin of yours for the rest of my cursed life, you hear me?”
Nathaerus spun the necklace around on his finger before catching it in his palm and casually tucking his hands in his pants’ pockets as he made his way to the door. “That was always the plan.”
#crystalrp#crystal rp#mateus rp#sirensyndicate#character writing#members#Nathaerus Reauloix#Nath#lfrp mateus
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anything 4 feat. Auston Matthews and Freddie Andersen
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, ever the gentleman. I looked up at him and chewed on my bottom lip.
“How are you, love?”
“Amazing. You?”
His eyes dropped to my chest for a brief second and he grinned. “Never better.”
“He’s going to warm you up, Shane. If that’s alright with you.” I swallowed hard and nodded, reaching for his belt. Auston stopped me and smirked, turning towards Freddie. “She’s excited.”
“I can tell.”
“Hasn’t come since we left for the road trip.”
“Then we owe her. Big time.”
I was aching, absolutely desperate for release, but I sat back as Freddie slipped off his jacket. His shirt was pulled taut across his broad chest and I fingered one of the buttons on it when he sat next to me. Auston took a seat on the armchair in the corner and leaned back, hands clasped on his lap.
“You want it off?” I nodded. “Then take it off.”
“Can I?”
Both of them sat silent as I opened his shirt, running my hands over his smooth skin. He was warmth and muscle and I traced his long arms as he pulled it off. There was a heat between us and I set my hand on his, jumping when Auston cleared his throat.
“Go ahead Shane. I know you want to.”
Freddie sat stoic as I leaned forward to kiss him, a quick, chaste kiss on the corner of his jaw. His cologne washed over me and I dropped my lips to the underside of his jaw, savoring the burn of his stubble on my lips. He set a hand on my hip and I felt his resolve crumble through his touch, his grip tightening as I bit down gently.
He swore under his breath and I straddled him, grinding against the bulge in his lap. Auston encouraged him from his spot in the corner and Freddie moved to lie on his back, hooking a hand under each knee to scoot me up. I finally sat hovering over his face and I swooned when he lifted his head to kiss my slit.
It was brief, the smallest bit of contact, but the past few days of pent-up energy had me absurdly sensitive. The whine I let out didn’t sound human and both men chuckled as I closed my eyes.
“She wants it.”
“I can tell.” He spread me with two fingers and moaned. “I can fucking tell.”
I opened my mouth to insist we stop pussyfooting around but he grabbed my hips and pulled me down, nosing my clit with a bob of his head. His tongue lapped at me like a kitten with milk and the pleasure was overwhelming. I had one hand on the headboard and the other tangled in his hair and I rolled my hips over and over again until my thighs shook with a powerful orgasm.
It was too much too fast and I was dizzy as I moved off of him. He wasted no time and flipped me onto my stomach. I hadn’t even caught my breath before he spread my cheeks and buried his face between them. The tip of his tongue traced my asshole and the pillow underneath me stifled my scream. He held his position as I lifted up, eager to give him more room to work. The skin he was working was sensitive and pleasure rippled through my body, wave after wave of insane pleasure.
He pulled back and pressed a kiss to my backside as he pumped two fingers in and out of my pussy. I felt every bit of it and whimpered when he pulled them out, falling silent when he pressed the tip of one of them into my ass.
“You wore the plug all week?”
“Mhmm.”
“Which one?”
“Th-third one.”
He brought his hips to my ass again and hummed. “Good girl.” He added the second finger and pressed until his first knuckle disappeared, stilling for longer than I wanted him too. I pushed back against him and he held firm, relinquishing a tiny bit of the control he held. The feeling of stretching around him had me delirious and I grabbed a fistful of the bed sheets until my hands ached.
“She wants more. Right, Shane? You want more?” I could only nod but Freddie didn’t move. Auston instead stood up and made his way over, moving the pillow I had my forehead on and taking it’s spot. His hard-on was tenting his slacks and I watched him pop the button, dragging the zipper down as slowly as possible. “You want this?”
I nodded again and he pulled his cock out, wrapping his hand around it so just the tip was showing. It was glistening with precum and I ran my tongue over the baby soft skin. Freddie pulled out a bit behind me and then returned, going just a bit further than he’d been before. Auston gave me a bit more and I dropped my head to suck on him, spurred on by the groan that rumbled in his chest.
“Dammit, Shane.” I nosed his hand out of the way and took him to the back of my throat. He let out a string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush and gathered my hair into a ponytail to hold my head in place. I bobbed gently and he leaned back, lifting his hips the tiniest bit. My tongue was flush against the underside of his cock and I ran it back and forth as his grip tightened.
“Give her more.” He did. He gave me enough to bring tears to my eyes and I loved every bit of it. My back arched and I pushed against him, moaning around Auston’s cock. “More.”
Freddie pulled out and added a third finger, mumbling under his breath as I clenched around him. He bent forward so his chest was against my back and wrapped an arm around my hip to rub my clit, frantically circling it as he kissed my shoulder.
“She’s incredible, Aus.”
“You should see her take a cock.”
I lifted my head and looked him in the eye, heart racing as my arousal renewed. “Can I?”
“You want to?” He held my chin in his hand and swiped his thumb across my bottom lip, glancing over my shoulder at Freddie. “Both of us?”
#auston matthews imagine#auston matthews smut#nhl imagine#nhl smut#hockey imagine#hockey smut#nhl one shot#hockey one shot#freddie andersen smut#freddie andersen imagine
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Saving Face”
I was commissioned by my dear friend, @bitchesofostwick, to write for Cullen and Ellinor -- this time, in the Inquisition universe, which is a first for me! I have had a bit of time with them as awkward and adorable College students, so this was a great and fun challenge to draw from her amazing story, A World Alone. I highly suggest you read it if you have not already!
Isabella gave me a lot of creative room to take an idea and run with it, so I am delighted to share it. Thank you so much for commissioning me!
-- -- --
Summary: Sera challenges Ellinor to a game of strict focus and discipline. In the process, Ellinor discovers that while may be a nearly infallible player, but not when it comes to certain participants and their...rather silly, childhood memories.
Ship: Inquisitor Ellinor Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford
-- -- --
It is a game, or so Sera claims at the beginning of it all. Now, she is far from sure. If she was not worried of looking like a sore sport -- which she typically could care less about, but today, things feel different -- she would opt out. Only, it’s the principle of the thing: so simple a game. Or, “game.” Try not to laugh, or smile, while someone is telling a ridiculous story. Ellinor can certainly win, she never laughs. It is one of those things that hurts feelings and also provides a point of pride: “I laugh!” and also “no one can make me laugh if I do not wish to.”
Maybe that is how she gets caught up in this ordeal. For whatever rhyme or reason, she must win.
She makes it through five consecutive rounds of torture. Sera instigates, but the first story is one Ellinor’s already heard a half-dozen times. About a scuffle in Denerim where a man giving her trouble ends up hooked on a tavern banner pole, breeches up and arse crested, as she describes. A fantastic tale, but not new. Sera is impressed, but it only provokes her more, so she tells a second one about a bard who tried to drink out of their mandolin. Then, another about a mysteriously unnamed rogue who --
“Sera, I said don’t speak of that ever!” Ellinor cuts in just before she’s damned. The scowl is sincere when she says it.
Sera, snorting as she chuckles, grips even tighter on the ankles of her crossed legs. She’s sat across from her on the bench chair, outside the tavern. Cassandra passes by in-between stories one and two, quickly decides it is something she wants no part of, and departs before Sera can ask to play. Luckily, just as Ellinor is about to turn it into a sparring match to defend her own honor, Bull’s shadow overtakes them both.
“Heard from inside, something about a bard on a banner pole?” he asks, swinging his axe in a circular motion as if he’s come to train rather than tease.
Ellinor smiles slightly, but then quickly covers her ass: “Pause, Sera! To explain!” she says before turning over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s some kind of game. Sera said so. I’m still unsure about whether it is, or just something she’s got me tied into the pass the time.”
“Oh, sure, blame me, right,” Sera gripes, “all because I have the bright ideas besides mopin.’”
“I was not moping!”
“Right, you were doin’ one better. Daydreamin’ about--”
“Fine, fair enough, I was moping,” Ellinor gives in once again to save face. Shit.
Looking on, Bull clears his throat with a knuckle to his mouth, side-stepping away. “Boss, you have an angle. It’s not the cheeriest one, but it works. Don’t get too worked up about it.”
Ellinor gives a slight sigh, and rests back in her seat, knees spreading. “I’m not. I just want to make clear that--”
“Eh! I don’t wanna argue about it too much, it’ll only make you cross and make my turn harder!”
“Then maybe you should think twice before picking a fight,” Ellinor retorts, biting back a grin that betrays the concern. Fortunately Sera doesn’t seem to notice as she squints her eyes into space, hooking an arm under her knee. She has to have enough stories to narrate a damn lifetime. Bull withdraws completely, heading for the dummies. Talk about a work up.
“Sera, maybe you should just admit defeat. Where are the rules about how many attempts you get?” Ellinor presses, elbows cocking back on top of the bench backrest. She rests a boot toe-up, heel digging into the damp soil as she waits for another round.
“No, no, no,” Sera refuses, “there’s nothin about turn numbers.”
“Well, maybe there should be.”
“Why? You breakin’?”
“No! My concern is the other--”
“Agh! Perfect! Cully!”
Ellinor blinks so fast it nearly pushes her off balance, as all of the sudden a blank stare to the ground and her shoe becomes a frantic blur. “Cull--”
“Over here!” Sera is now waving, and what’s worse, she’s waving toward a man in crimson and steel and fur who looks awfully like someone she would call “Cullen.” Could there not be other people by that name in this entire Hold? Apparently not. Certainly not the kind who would look at her and Sera and think, of course, I must become involved in whatever irresponsibility they are sharing.
Across the yard he is holding a report, while two subordinates withdraw from his presence, making it aptly timed for someone to get his attention. Apt, meaning terrible. The heat in her gut and her face start to compete with one another for which will cook her from the inside out first.
“Sera, no,” she hisses out the corner of her mouth, posture rounding forward. “You can have all the turns you want, I quit, I--”
“No shit!” Sera then waves at her, like a pesky couple of bees, “Cully! Yeah, you! Get over ‘ere.”
She should have known she would be this way. She does know. She knows better than most anyone. But the way Cullen walks over, as if he is both cautious and curious -- in the way only he can be -- it’s clear Ellinor is not the pinnacle of knowing anything resembling “better.” Just him, and the way she’s oscillating from contained to confounded.
When he is but a few yards from them, and Sera is fidgeting with anticipation, he speaks.
“Er, yes, Sera?” he delays before the second part. “...Ellinor?”
Ellinor slides back even further until the bench creaks from the pressure, and decidedly turns her look to Sera, more as refuge but also resentment. “Sera, for the love of…”
“We’re playin’ somethin’. It’s good for your focus. Or, Ellinor’s focus, right now. Can you make her laugh?”
Cullen unsurprisingly pauses, wherein his face becomes a more similar shade to the fabric in his armor. Ellinor can only imagine how much she, too, matches; yet the appearance also endears her. Which can only mean one dangerous conclusion: if he says yes, he will be right.
“I, ahem,” he says, throat raspy with unprepared answers, “what sort of game requires that, Sera?”
“Simple: the game for her is keepin’ a straight face. The game for us is ruinin’ it. Make sense?”
“If I am to be honest, no. Not really.”
It is Sera’s turn to pause and be befuddled, now, as her gaze switches from them both. Ellinor is still fastened on her like a sailor would a star on the horizon, lest she fall prey to the creatures swimming beneath her feet.
“Come on, you don’t got stories?”
Ellinor bites the side of her lip. “Everyone has stories, but we don’t have to--”
“Then--”
Cullen intervenes, less apprehensive: “I’m afraid I don’t, as it were. Not any that come to mind. I’m afraid I will have to leave you to the task.” He’s polite, not dismissive. Even still, the decline is another instance of complicated emotion; it spurs Ellinor to finally look up and see his expression. He has his hands on the pommel of his sword, in a similar surveying shape as he would take before the war table.
Damn.
“We understand, no, really,” Ellinor tries to smooth it over before she can even understand what she’s trying to smooth over. Is it Sera’s disappointment, or her own? Is it the fear that he’ll think she was in on this, or that she wanted him to be involved? He looks at her and grins softly, breaking the first and ultimate rule of the ‘game’ even though it isn’t his to lose. It’s only hers. Fuck all.
“Both of you are no fun,” Sera huffs, tucking her legs underneath her completely now. “Fine, more victory for me,” she concludes.
Ellinor allows herself to breathe. As she does so, Cullen backs away cordially.
“I trust you will do well with the challenge,” he kindly says to Sera, nodding to her before looking at Ellinor one final time. “I hope this proves beneficial to you, Ellinor.”
“I do not plan on it,” she replies before thinking. It makes his grin flinch a bit broader, before he turns around fully. “Farewell, Cullen”
Only when she hears Sera snicker more does she realize the last part was too soft to be across the distance between them; it is also too sentimental-sounding for the light of day. Renewed in both her self-preservation and pride, Ellinor looks back at Sera, her eyes narrowing with hostility.
“Sera.”
“What? It was in the rules.”
“What blasted rules?!” she yells, hands out and fingers grasping the air like they had claws, “are you going to keep making them up on me, trying to get me to crack?”
In the face of her fury, Sera only shrugs.
“I see,” Ellinor exhales. “You’re not the only one who can make rules, then. New rule: no new contenders in the middle of the game.”
“Rule’s rejected.”
“What?”
Sera makes herself busy, or busy-looking, checking one of the calluses on her toes. “For rules to be passed you gotta have everyone agree.”
And that is how the Inquisitor comes to win twenty full rounds of the laughing game running on sheer spite.
--
Later on that evening, another council meeting concludes, and without many prying eyes Ellinor’s singular confidence has rebounded. Josephine and Leliana leave the war room first. She notices the same stature of red and iron, and slightly curling hair across the slab of wood with scattered coins, pieces, and papers. Nothing inspires stoicism like deliberating how to save Thedas. Not everything is a game.
Despite this, Cullen stands by like before; it makes her concentration ever-so-slightly bend from the spread of work and obligations.
“Inquisitor.”
Trying to maintain her preoccupation -- or at least the semblance of it -- she only glances. “Y-yes?”
“I, ahah,” he hesitates. “There was a time, many years ago, where I helped Mia practice cutting and trimming hair. Or rather, helped, by being an involuntary being her subject for her...attempts. Once, she sat me down in her room and began cutting short, but every time she cut, she would become more cross. Apparently my hair was not cooperating, and so she kept trimming it into line. Sadly there’s only so much hair to cut before...well,” a sorry chuckle leaves his chest, “I had no chance to see before Branson came into the room and started to laugh. By then, it was too late.”
Ellinor had pulled herself up to stand straight, incrementally hanging more and more on every word. What was the purpose of this?
“I...um,” she swallowed, arms folding. “What...what had happened?”
He looks more savvy as a trace of brightness, however tempered, casts in his eyes. His eyes then lower to the table. The smile lines on either cheek deepen. “Unfortunately, save for one part at the back, she had cut down most all of it. Branson collapsed to the floor laughing, and Mia took it as a terrible insult to her skills. But even she admitted later...well, years later, that it was ugly. I was no more than five, maybe six years of age, and all the hair I had to show could be kept in one tie all-together. The rest took months to return.”
Brows raised, Ellinor placed the side of her knuckle to her mouth. “So...so they made you keep the part she had not cut tied up?”
“They did not make me, she insisted and I being young and eager to impress my older sister obliged. She said it was the one part she got right.”
“A...a ponytail...with everything else short?”
“So short my head became burned by the sun if I stayed out under it for too long.”
“And...and when it was down…”
“You do not even want to know what it was compared to when down.”
That is the last straw. Shoulders lurching, hand pressing harder on her mouth as the edges of her lips spread to either side, Ellinor is undone by the mental image. A small, round-faced little boy with a tuft of curls on the back of his little head, running around and chasing after his big sister. Still looking for love and approval through loyalty, even when that loyalty does him so dirty. A hum, innocent but involuntary, bubbles in her throat: a hum of charmed humor.
Her eyes and his unbroken only make it worse, because the way his are emboldened by the sight of her, if even for just a moment, makes it all the more slippery. Slippery for the grip she has on composure that is infamous and yet not infallible.
“You...y-you…” she says, breaking through the subtle chuckling, “you looked like one of those fluffy...fl-u--”
“Lap dogs, yes,” he says, his smile straining, “you could say that.”
“I am just...I was not meaning to…”
“No need to retract, Inquisitor,” he says, “I know better than to believe that”
Her chuckling grows to where she uncovers her mouth and smiles. “I--forgive…”
Once again, he denies with a shake of his head. “Neither would I trust that apology.”
She goes on for a moment, getting it out of her system, while he stands by. As she calms she notices there’s a bit too much coolness to him. Not nearly as much blush or self-consciousness as she would expect in his vulnerability. Something...pleased.
“What...what on earth are you,” she tries, taking a couple breaths to pace herself, “what has got you so smug?”
He doesn’t reply at first. Rather, he looks off and walks steadily around the perimeter. When he is on her side, he does not stop to face her. He only slows his pace toward the direction of the door.
“Oh, nothing,” he says like a mention of unimportant detail, “I just won after only a single round, is all.”
Her jubilance turns to sour defeat, as does the taste in her mouth. Her eyes go wide. “But...b-but…!”
“Careful, Ellinor,” he says over his shoulder, halfway to the exit already. “You might make the score worse for yourself than it already is.”
Her face is hot from a different emotion now -- at least, mostly. If she cannot deny the way he prevailed, she definitely cannot deny the visceral nature of hearing her name in the sting of defeat.
“Agh! No, that is not the end of it!” she exclaims, boots loudly hitting the floor as she goes after him. And, to her credit, it most definitely is not the end.
Later on, through the hall leading to Josephine’s office, a scurrilous and acidic “that is not what the rules state!” can be heard amongst salty but stuttering voices. Whether or not such a dispute ever truthfully took place is left to rumor.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tempest Tossed
A Linked Universe fic I decided to write today when the idea hit me. It took a bit of a sad turn...
Linked Universe belongs to Linked Universe and Jojo56830! I own nothing but my writing.
~~~~~~~
They’d noticed the gathering storm before it hit. There had been signs here and there. A shift in the wind, a drop in temperature, and the disturbance of the waters surrounding them. The roiling, thick, black clouds in the distance drew nearer and nearer until they had finally reached them.
The tumultuous downpour was the first to assault them followed by the harsh and vindictive winds.
The Links had done their best to prepare for it, but all but one of them was an expert sailor who knew what to expect. And so, it was up to the youngest of their group to lead and guide them through what they were to do.
Wind was piloting the vessel they had boarded only hours before, fighting to keep it steady as the unforgiving waves slammed against all sides. The ship rocked perilously back and forth, threatening to capsize them if they made a single wrong move. The sailor remained calm and focused, calling out terms the other Heroes were more-or-less familiar with.
Strangely, it was Four who would interpret them- his explanation being that he was well-read.
Legend, Warrior had noticed, had grown far paler than he thought possible, and he briefly feared he was growing seasick. He was also not moving, instead, he was clinging to one of the masts of the ship, murmuring to himself and eyes darting back and forth at the raging waters and vengeful storm. Never once did he move away from it.
“Legend!” Warrior shouted, fighting his way to the tense Hero. He stumbled when the ship listed sideways and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught hold of a rope whipping in the air. He saw Legend cower against the mast, ducking his head low and squeezing his eyes shut.
His breathing was sharp and unmeasured and his hand was clutching at his heart, telling Warrior he was on the brink of a panic attack. Never had the Knight seen Legend so unfettered and downright terrified!
It worried him. He knew something had triggered it. The storm? Maybe the ship? Legend hadn’t wanted to board it. He’d been extremely reluctant to. He knew it was a losing battle, and when Legend realized there was no getting out of it, he’d stormed aboard and disappeared into the hull.
Hyrule later reported that Legend was acting strangely. Out of character and antsy. The Links had wondered about it. Legend was nothing more than a ghost wandering aimlessly down below, arms wrapped tightly around himself and mutterings spewing from his lips.
They hadn’t paid it too much attention, but now, Warrior realized they should have noticed something was wrong. They should have looked deeper and seen that Legend wasn’t acting like his troublesome self.
There was something more to it. Something more to his reluctance and anxiousness. Seeing him now, nothing more than a quivering mess slumped against the mass, Warrior knew he needed to reach him. And fast!
None of the other Links had noticed. The Heroes were occupied with executing Wind’s commands.
A heavy box briefly distracted the Knight as the crate slid against the wooden deck, breezing past him and slamming against the railing. Warrior cringed when it splintered into pieces, the items within lost to the greedy sea. Turning back to his quailing friend, determination flared in Warrior’s eyes and he tightened his grip on the rope, using it to pull himself up towards Legend.
He planted one foot in front of the other, moving with caution. One eye was screwed shut against the wind and the other partially opened as he made his way to the main mast.
He grunted when he almost lost his grip due to the ship jerking left and throwing him forward. With a fierce scowl, Warrior swallowed back his own fear that sparked and threatened to ignite. He didn’t need to be an expert sailor to know the tempest was bad.
Very, very bad.
Warrior hadn’t missed the flicker of worry and concern that flashed across Wind’s otherwise steely visage.
“Steady!” The sailor cried out, straining his voice to be heard by everyone, “Keep her steady!” His knuckles were turning white from the vice-like grip he had on the handles of the steering wheel. “Pops!” He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but even Wind was questioning whether or not they would be able to ride out the storm. It was the worst he’d experienced on the Great Sea and he didn’t like how dark it was getting.
Something about it struck him as unnatural.
Time whipped his head in Wind’s direction upon hearing his name. His teeth grit together when his hair mercilessly lashed at his face and stabbed his single good eye, but he did not waver in his task.
“I need you here!”
Time immediately dropped what he was doing and forced his way to the upper deck. His feet were almost knocked out from beneath him by the wind, and Warrior was amazed by how Time managed the impossible feat of remaining upright. He soon joined the sailor at the wheel, and helped to keep it still.
A deafening groan resonated through the air when the ship careened to the left, and Warrior’s stomach plummeted when Four stumbled and crashed painfully against the wooden planks. His head smacked against the deck the same time a boisterous clap of thunder splintered the sky.
“Four!”
Twilight lunged, snatching the dazed Hero before he could slide down the slanted deck and into the wrathful ocean. He yanked him close, Four latching onto him with wide eyes and chest heaving.
Warrior breathed a sigh of relief, his heart thundering in his chest and pulsing in his ears.
That...had been a close call.
“Four, are you alright?!” Sky demanded to know, having heard Twilight’s cry but being unable to turn and see what was happening. Worry laced his tone and coated his words, the Skyloftian sitting back on his heels and yanking the rope he held with all his strength.
He was soaked to the bone, hair clinging to his face and neck and boots uncomfortably soggy. It was difficult to gain any traction from how wet the deck had become but he managed to succeed.
“He’s fine!” Twilight answered for the dazed Hero he had in his arms. The colorful Link was was collapsed against his chest, eyes fluttering and mind disoriented. Twilight worried his lower lip. Four had hit his head pretty hard. No doubt he probably got a concussion but no one was in the position of fetching a Red Potion. “But I think he’s out of commission!”
Not good.
Wild scowled and glared up into the blanket of darkness above them. Lightning flashed brilliantly, the thunder bellowing angrily in response. The Hero tugged strongly at the rope directing the sail with Sky’s aid.
They were both struggling to keep a good grasp on it. The abrupt movements of the ship and force of the wind weren’t doing them any favors.
“Hyrule! Where are you?!” Time’s deep voice hollered over the agonized wind. It comforted the Heroes to hear him. His steady and calm voice, reassuring presence, and composed appearance. How he managed to keep his cool in any given situation was beyond them, but the Heroes were grateful for the stability he gave them.
“Here!” A smaller voice replied. It was horribly distorted and warped but the Heroes were relieved to hear it.
Warrior plunged onwards, ignoring how the wind attempted to beat him back. He was intent on reaching Legend. When he’d finally got to him, his hand flew out to shake the stock still Legend from whatever panic had overtaken him, “Legend! Need you here, bud!”
Legend blinked then slowly raised his haunted eyes to meet Warrior. The Knight was stunned to see the intense conflict taking place within them.
“Warrior,”
It was the ghost of a whisper and the Captain had to strain his ears to catch it, but he did.
“It can’t happen again…”
Confusion furrowed Warrior’s brow at the shuddering words. Legend was looking worse for wear. Worse than usual. There was a fear in those cobalt blues he’d never before seen. A fear that spoke of a traumatizing past experience.
Warrior cursed to himself. The storm must have dredged up some unwanted memories at a most unprecedented and inopportune moment.
“Hey!” He briskly shook Legend, forcing the younger to look up at him again, “I need you to stay with me, alright?”
Legend swallowed thickly, gaze wandering past Warrior’s shoulder and to the stormy waters. The waves crashed into one another and slammed mercilessly against the surface and he tensed again.
Memories from several years ago crawled unbidden to his mind, forcing him to relive the terrifying nightmare he’d had to endure…
~~~~~~~
A small, struggling vessel caught amidst the chaos and confusion of the great and terrible storm that had suddenly swept in unannounced.
A young Hylian boy wearing tan breeches and long-sleeved undershirt beneath his green tunic, grunting as he fought to maintain control of his little boat.
Knowing his efforts were futile but trying anyways. Survival was all that mattered.
He was afraid. So deeply afraid that he wouldn’t make it out alive.
His breath caught and he pulled at the rope with his teeth clenched, praying that this next gigantic wave wouldn’t come crashing down on top of him and send him sinking into the deepest, darkest, depths of the ocean.
“-gend! Legend!”
~~~~~~~
Legend sucked in a sharp breath when the familiar voice that didn’t belong to this memory seeped into his mind, disturbing his thoughts and sending them skittering. It served to reign him back into the present, and when he snapped his head up, it was to find Warrior standing before him, a scowl fixed on his stern features.
He’d adopted his “Captain’s Persona,” as Wind dubbed it.
“Snap out of it!” The Knight sharply ordered him, giving him another shake, “I know it’s easier said than done, but if you don’t lend us a hand, we’re doomed!”
Legend knew he spoke nothing but the truth. But it was hard! Everywhere he looked, everything he saw, reminded him of his experience back then that had ended in disaster. None of them knew of Koholint. He’d kept all that encompassed that adventure to himself. A dark secret never to be revealed and one he would take down to the grave with him.
The breeze picked up without warning, growing in both speed and strength. The howling of the anguished winds swirled madly around the nine scattered about the deck. The fabric of their clothing flapped brutally against their skin, their hair whipping at their eyes and faces and leaving behind stinging reminders.
Muffled voices cried out in a mixture of alarm and urgency.
Legend exhaled shakily, closing his eyes and taking a moment to gather his wits together. If he didn’t want a repeat of that time, then the Heroes needed him to stay in the here-and-now. This boat was much bigger than his own had been and more likely to endure the brutality of the storm than his did.
The futile attempts to reassure himself fell flat. His stomach twisted and churned, sharp stabs of fear stealing his very breath away every time the ship would creak and groan or sway from the force of the wind and waves.
Saltwater spilled over the railings and onto the deck, soaking his and Warrior’s boots.
~~~~~~~
The foreboding wall of water rose tall and proud before him, monstrous in both size and grandeur. The Hylian stared in horror and dismay, his heart thumping once against his chest before plummeting deep down.
His features morphed into despair. He knew then and there that he would never make it home.
Was this how his life was to end? Was he to suffer an agonizing fate after all he had done for Hyrule as her Hero? Was this how the Goddess had chosen to repay her Chosen One? Were his sacrifices, his losses, his grief, and pain all for naught?
Where had he gone wrong?
~~~~~~~
“Come on, Legend!”
A strong hand anchoring him to the present once more grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him away from the mast he’d been clutching to.
“You’re sticking with me!”
Relief swamped over Legend at the words and he allowed Warrior to lead him away. The Knight never relinquished his grip. For that, Legend was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he trusted himself not to fall back into the past and lose himself in those horrific memories.
He swallowed back the paralyzing fear lingering at the edges of his mind. He licked his chapped lips and called above the wind, “Where are we going?”
Warrior spared him a look and brief, relieved, grin. He was glad to hear his voice.
“The sailor-”
And that’s as far as Warrior got when an explosion of white light blinded the both of them-
~~~~~~~
The vessel strove to remain upright in the raging ocean. The waves tossed and turned, thunderously crashing against the surface and nearly capsizing his boat more times than he cared to count. The storm was unrelenting. Lightning split the sky, flashing erratically. The thunder would bellow in retort, causing the Hylian to cringe and the coils of fear and dread to thicken in his stomach.
His heart pounded, his chest heaved. It was excruciating! Never had he felt such suffocating terror!
His boat began to ascend the daunting wave with agonizing slowness, foam and water sprinkling his face and drenching his already soaked form. This was a feat he’d already deemed impossible.
The bitter cold clutched him within its grasp and he shivered. Whether it was from the freezing temperature or from the immobilizing fear that gripped him, he did not know.
It didn’t truly matter.
There was no way he would make it. His boat was too small. But still, he tried. He wanted to live. He wanted to make it home! And so, he tried to believe.
As if the Goddess had decided to grant him a miracle, the straining vessel made it over the wave and skimmed along the top of it.
A flood of relief overcame him but before he could celebrate, a bright, blinding light caught his attention.
Dread and panic burst within him. His eyes grew wide with a shrill gasp as the mast of his little boat exploded into millions of pieces. Wood splintered, the sharp, deafening crack echoing in his ears and ringing in his mind before all went black…
~~~~~~~
Legend felt strangely light and airborne. In the distance, he could have sworn he heard an agonized cry and anguished shouts of despair and disbelief.
Was he the one screaming? It didn’t sound like him, but he knew the voice it belonged to. The name escaped him, but he knew it would later come to him.
His eyes were sealed tightly shut and his body flew back from whatever force had thrown it. His head rang, the fracturing of wood resonating in the air. He slapped his hands tighter against his head, flattening his pointed ears in order not to hear the terrible and familiar sound.
The painful collision with the wet and unforgiving deck jolted his body and Legend grunted from the impact.
Panicked calls of ‘Legend’ and ‘Warrior’ could barely be heard over the wailing wind brutally whipping at him.
Had it happened again? He couldn’t help but wonder, heart beating a frantic pace. He couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t move. He was frozen in place, the turmoil he felt feeding the growing tempest within his own mind. His sense of reality started to slip and he desperately grabbed at it, trying to keep an air-tight lid on it.
“-end!” A strong voice shouted above the storm. Legend did not react, falling further into himself as he struggled and warred against the memories slipping through the cracks. He clutched to the seams threatening to burst apart. “Legend!”
Legend blearily blinked, fighting to clear his vision as he slowly lifted his head halfway. There was someone forcing their way through the storm towards him. An arm was cast over their face, protecting it from the items picked up by the wind, golden-blonde hair stabbing viciously at their eyes as they stubbornly moved one foot forward then the next, planting them firmly in the ground as they inched their way towards the fallen Hero.
Despite the blurriness of his vision, Legend would recognize that gold armor and the markings on that wise and stoic face anywhere. The scar that ran down one eye and the other eye that was never shut unless he were resting or lost in thought.
Time.
“Legend!” He hollered, asserting his powerful voice so that it carried and caressed Legend’s ears. His single, good, eye was squeezed shut, opening into a slit every few seconds and staring fixedly at Legend’s folded and pitiful form. He saw Legend looking at him, frantic and beyond anxious. He was scared.
The explosion had made him mostly deaf in his right ear, but his left had fared better.
He exhaled shakily as the unsettling realization sunk deep into his heart. The past had almost repeated itself. Lightning had struck the boat, but Legend was safe and sound. He was still on the vessel, not lost to the unforgiving sea.
He wasn’t being tossed and turned in the tumultuous waters, or dragged further into the depths of the ocean where he would drown and his body never to be found.
“Legend! You must move!” Time was pressing himself onward, intent on reaching the shaken Hero.
Legend blinked then snapped his head forward, eyes growing wide at the gap in the ship’s railing and scorch marks along the deck. His feet were only inches from the hole the seawater poured in from. He scrambled backwards, petrified.
The lightning...had done that?
Then again, lightning had been the reason his own little boat had been reduced to nothing but fragments of wood.
He swallowed thickly.
Too close.
That had been too close.
“Legend, please!” Hyrule’s tear-filled voice drifted to him, and Legend’s brow creased. Why was Hyrule crying? He was perfectly fine. A little rattled, but virtually unharmed. “We can’t lose you too!”
Wait…
They can’t…
Lose him too?
Horrified realization dawned on Legend just as Time arrived and crashed to his knees beside him. The older Link wrapped his arms tightly around the shell-shocked Hero, pulling him further away from the wide maw in the railing and chipped wood when Legend made to lung forward and see for himself what had become of his friend.
Saltwater spewed onto the deck but Legend didn’t notice.
His head felt light, his heart warring against what he had discovered.
This time, the storm hadn’t taken him.
This time, the lightning hadn’t destroyed his ship and left him to drift along the ocean on a single beam of wood.
This time, the Goddess had exercised mercy on him at the expense of another.
“NO!” Legend choked raggedly. His eyes stung, and not from the salt in the water that sprayed his face. He fought against Time’s hold on him. He kicked and struggled, refusing to believe the truth staring him in the face.
He knew... He knew deep down what it meant to be caught up in those waves in the middle of the great and terrible storm.
“NO!”
Wind promptly burst into tears, his small body quaking from the force of his sobs as he clung desperately to the wheel.
His big brother...
His big brother was gone. The Hero he looked up to and idolized. The Hero who took Wind under his wing and ensured he was safe and physically well. The one who would allow him to sit in his lap and fix his hair or just loosely wrap his arms around him.
Wind had always felt so safe and secure with him.
The Knight who would immediately shed his scarf and wrap it snugly around the sailor if he even shivered once.
The Knight Wind would no longer be able to see, to hug, or talk to. The Knight he’d grown to love and look up to as an older brother would no longer be there to wake him or listen to his stories or regal him with his own.
Wind would never forget. He would never forget the Hylian Captain, Warrior, or how his life was so cruelly ripped away by a single freak of nature.
Sky couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It felt so unreal- like a horrific dream. A nightmare. His mouth moved but couldn’t form words. The Skyloftian was at a loss. Devastation was all he knew and the Hero slowly lowered himself to the ground, weeping bitterly. He raised shaking hands to cradle his head, cobalt blues swimming with a multitude of emotions.
Hyrule was curled up against the railing, face hidden in his arms and knees drawn to his chest as bone-rattling sobs shook his form.
Wild was frozen. Twilight tense.
Both stood beside one another in disbelief and pain. Their hearts bled, the Heroes mourning the loss of their dearest friend.
Four was mumbling incoherently, words jumbling over each other and eyes flickering madly.
“He’s gone-”
“He’s dead-”
“How could this happen-”
“Please, no-”
Legend couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
“He...He’s not...” Legend began, only for his voice to fail him. His breathing picked up speed. His heart pounded. His mind swam as thoughts raced through it before going blank. “No...no...” He shook his head.
Legend knew death.
He’d seen it before.
He’d watched it take his Uncle.
He’d watched it steal his parents.
And now...
Death had taken his friend.
His comrade.
His brother.
Warrior...
Warrior was gone.
Legend’s expression crumpled, twisting into one of agonized grief and excruciating pain.
“Warrior!”
The strangled cry was carried by the winds, never to be answered or acknowledged by the one he hoped it would reach.
Time shut his eye against the tears that rose within them. He ground his teeth together, cursing the Goddess while crushing Legend to him. His long fingers wove into Legend’s hair, pillowing the younger Hero’s head to his shoulder as he exhaled shakily.
“Legend, you can’t-” His voice cracked and Time had to try again, softer this time, “He’s gone.”
Tears slipped down Legend’s grieved face, mingling with the rain as he slumped back against Time.
How could this be..?
Why..?
“Warrior’s gone…”
The Old Man was crying.
The sound pierced his heart and Legend knew then and there that it was true. This was no dream. It wasn’t even a nightmare. He wouldn’t wake to find himself marooned on an island with the others or traversing Wild’s world- where they’d been before.
And when he would wake, there would be something missing.
There would always be someone missing.
Legend had been fortunate this time.
The storm had taken something else. Something far more precious and irreplaceable.
It had taken Warrior in Legend’s stead.
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seaspray
Chapter One: The Storm
Summary: Patton has always loved the ocean. With his quartermaster Remy and his first mate Dolos by his side, there's nothing that can stop him from sailing, from chasing that endless horizon. But when his ship is destroyed in a violent storm and he's saved by a mysterious mermaid with a royal past, he finds something he loves even more. Their relationship is as taboo as it comes; can they stay together when the whole world, when those they considered friends, work to tear them apart?
Warnings: storms, drowning, near-death (tell me if you need anything else tagged!)
Pairings: eventual Moxiety and Logince (small moxiety in this chapter, logince is coming next time!)
soo my amazing friend @aliferous-ly gave me the idea for this fic about a month ago and it was so incredible that i just had to write it. i'm so excited for this story!!!!!! even she doesn't know all the plot twists that are coming >;3
enjoy!!!
Patton loved the sea.
He loved its personality, its energy; the way it caressed the shore on good days and raged with fury on the bad, the way it stretched on for miles, empty, open, free. He loved the feeling of the wind in his hair and the salty spray on his face, the sound of the waves lapping against the side of his ship.
He’d grown up in a small orphanage in a small town in the kingdom’s countryside, as far from the sea as possible; but he’d dreamed of it, of him and the horizon and nothing else, of the kinds of adventures only the open ocean could bring. He was supposed to be a farmer — most orphans were sent to work in the fields the moment they were old enough — but… he couldn’t. He couldn’t spend every day out in the fields. He couldn’t live away from the sea.
So he ran. He ran and jumped at the first chance he got to sail, his first chance to see the sea. He worked every job he could get his hands on; a lowly swabbie, first, and then cabin boy, then cook, rising in the ranks higher and higher. And now…
Pathos was the jewel of the kingdom’s trading company — and Patton’s pride and joy. Years had passed since he’d first run away from that old orphanage, and now it was just him and his ship, him and the sea. With his quartermaster Remy and his first mate Dolos by his side, there was nothing that could stop him, nothing that could keep him from chasing that endless horizon.
The sea was his home; it loved him as he loved it. But it held as much fury as it did serenity. Patton knew its wrath as well as its comfort, its storms as well as its gentle waves, and he knew to fear the darkening of the skies above and the enlivening of the water below.
He knew to avoid the sea’s wrath — and he knew how hard it was to escape it.
Rain fell across the deck in sheets of freezing cold, and violent waves tossed the ship side to side; Patton shivered as he clung to the ship’s wheel to keep from falling, his knuckles stark-white as he desperately tried to steer out of the storm. Remy stood to his side, snapping rapid-fire commands to the crew below, his grim face illuminated by the lightning crackling above and his sharp voice carrying over the deafening rumble of thunder.
Patton shoved his dripping hair from his face and grit his teeth, yanking the wheel to the side. The ship rocked dizzyingly beneath him as the ocean battered it from below with all its might.
Crack-boom!
He whirled around, a desperate cry tearing from his lips as lightning slammed into the deck, sending his crewmates, his family, flying. The rain fell but did nothing to stop the flames the lightning left behind, growing bigger and more monstrous with every inch of Patton’s ship they devoured. As the embers flew and the heat licked at Patton, he turned and gripped the wheel once more, desperate to steer them out, to save them. But it was too late.
The water filled his lungs the moment he fell beneath, and though he choked and struggled he couldn’t find the surface in the chaos, couldn’t escape the darkness and the whirling, churning waves. The sea buffeted him at all sides, sending him tumbling, and darkness crept as the edge of his mind as the sea dragged him in.
He’d always known he belonged at sea, and now…
He was home.
Virgil loved the sea.
He loved its quiet, its emptiness; the way he could swim for miles and miles and find no one around, the way its waves seemed to comfort him, to beckon him home. He loved the feeling of the sunlight through its surface and the dazzling lightshow it would create, and the endless mysteries it held in its depths.
Virgil loved the sea — but the sea did not love him back.
For he was destined not for the quiet and the emptiness, not for the mysteries and the peaceful sunshine — but for the throne, for power over every reef and every creature in their part of the ocean. He was the only heir to the largest kingdom in all the oceans, the only son of the great King Marin.
To say he wasn’t meant for the job was a severe understatement.
He was everything a king, a leader, shouldn’t be. He was quiet and insecure where he should be confident and brave, nervous where he should have been fierce; he held none of his father’s strength, his father’s courage. He wasn’t a king, he was just… Virgil.
So he ran. He ran, again and again. He wasn’t meant for the throne, he knew that; and the quiet, peaceful parts of the ocean beckoned him, far beyond the reaches of his father’s bustling kingdom. Except…
“Virgil!”
Except he never made it very far.
He froze and whirled around, biting back a frustrated groan as he glared with all the anger he could muster. Logan glared right back, his hair tousled and his goggles askew, his dull blue tail swishing beneath him and glinting in the sunlight. His face was red, and he panted, his eyes sparking with anger.
Virgil didn’t give him a chance to speak. He regarded him only for a moment before turning and swimming off, crossing his arms and gritting his teeth. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He wouldn’t.
“Oh, for the love of — come back here!” In an instant, Logan’s hand was on his shoulder, and he yanked him around. “Do you have any idea how long I have been chasing you?”
“Do you have any idea how much I don’t care?” Virgil tried to tear out of Logan’s grip, but he knew it was futile; hell hath no fury like a Logan scorned. He glared instead, injecting every ounce of regality into his expression that he could.
“You are going to get us both into serious trouble, your highness.” Virgil flinched at the title, deepening his glare to no avail. “I was assigned to watch over you, which means I take the fall when you continue to have these childish tantrums and run off!”
“They’re not childish,” Virgil said childishly, “and I don’t have a choice. I’m not just going to sit there and let them — let them turn me into something I’m not.” He twisted and shot off the moment Logan lost his grip, swimming as fast as he could. He heard Logan shout furiously behind him and snickered, waving over his shoulder.
“One of these days you’re going to have to accept it!” Logan was fast, though Virgil hated to admit it, and it wasn’t long before he was on Virgil’s tail. Virgil pushed himself to swim faster, and the ocean darkened around him, a storm brewing on the surface. “You are the prince, and you must act like it!”
“And if I don’t want to?” Virgil stopped and whirled around, lifting his head just enough to glare down at Logan over the bridge of his nose. Logan skidded to a stop just before crashing into his and met Virgil’s glare with a resolute one of his own.
Lightning flashed overhead and broke their furious standoff. Logan crossed his arm, his expression softening just the slightest bit, and Virgil averted his gaze, a pink blush spreading beneath the black scales dotted around his eyes.
“You don’t have a choice, Virge,” he said, and his voice was that of Virgil’s childhood friend, not the stuffy nobleman he’d become. “You are the only heir.”
Virgil bit his lip as thunder rumbled; he longed to stop and watch the storm, to forget about this stupid argument altogether. “I don’t see why we can’t just… get a new heir. Find someone else. Someone better.” He turned to face Logan. “You’d be a good king. Not me.”
“Me?” Logan chuckled, one eyebrow raised. “That is a novel idea. You know just as well as I do that I am not meant to be a leader, Virgil. You are.”
“No I’m —” He stopped as a shadow fell across the two, his eyebrows furrowing as he regarded the ship sailing above them. He’d never seen a ship out in a storm this violent; didn’t those stupid humans know to avoid them?
He was off before Logan could stop him, breaching the surface to regard the human ship. As lightning flashed above, the silhouettes of the humans aboard were illuminated, revealing their panic, their terror. A short one standing at the helm of the ship — the captain, maybe? — held tightly to the wheel, desperation written across his face.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked, popping up beside him, his wet hair flopping down into his face.
“Watching,” Virgil replied quietly, never tearing his gaze from the ship.
“Watching?” Logan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Running away and risking being near humans. Great. Just wonderful.”
Virgil opened his mouth to retort, bristling at the sarcasm lacing Logan’s tone — but a bolt of blinding lightning smashed into the ship’s deck before he could, and the screams of the sailors filled the air. He jerked to move towards the ship and Logan’s hands clamped around his arm, holding him back.
“Virgil, no!” Logan yelled, but Virgil could barely hear him over the howling of the wind and the rumbling of the thunder. He pulled them back under and turned Virgil to face him, his eyes wide and his tone desperate. “You can’t!”
He was right, of course — being near humans, even to save them… it was one of their societies greatest taboos. Virgil stopped struggling, gritting his teeth as he watched the wreckage sink beneath the waves, the sailors struggling to stay afloat. He watched as most of the crew made their way back to the surface, clinging to the broken pieces of the ship — and he watched as one didn’t.
“Logan,” he began, and Logan’s eyes narrowed, his grip on Virgil tightening.
“Don’t you dare —”
“I’m sorry.” He wrenched out of Logan’s grip and shot off, wrapping his arms tightly around the drowning human. He regarded the human for a moment — his half-lidded brown eyes, the halo of strawberry-blond curls around his head, the freckles across his cheeks — and then lifted, heaving the human above the surface.
“Virgil!” Logan yelled as he surfaced behind him. “Do you have any idea how many laws you are breaking right now?”
“Shut up and help me!” He turned and turned, desperate to find some sort of land among the churning, storm-tossed sea. There was an island around here somewhere, he knew it, he just had to get his bearings first.
Logan swam up beside him, muttering furiously to himself as he looped his arm around the sailor. “There is an island northwest of here,” he said quickly. “We can drop it off there and then leave. No one will ever know!”
Virgil tightened his grip on the human, wrapping his fingers tightly around the fabric of his shirt, and let Logan take the lead. The wreckage of the human ship surrounded them, a minefield of burnt and broken wood, and the storm above them raged on, thundering with all the rage the ocean could muster.
The island was small and wild, an overgrown mage of beaches and forests. In the glow of the lightning Virgil could just make out the driftwood washed up on the shore, and the human footprints leading from it; the other sailors, at least some of them, had made it out alive.
Virgil set the small human down on the edge of the shore and sank back into the water, watching, waiting. He ignored Logan’s worried lecture and narrowed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when the human’s chest moved up and down. He was breathing. He was alive.
“Are you satisfied now?” Logan asked, arms crossed. “It is alive. May we go home now?”
Virgil didn’t respond. He watched the unmoving human, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze unreadable. Slowly, carefully, he made his way back towards the shore, and Logan growled furiously, following.
He pulled himself up beside the human, regarding him with curiosity. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, his hair a sopping wet, curly mess. Virgil knew, of course, that humans were vastly different from them — they had neither scales nor tails, and their faces were rounder, their skin softer — but this was the first time he’d ever seen one up close. He leaned in closer, regarding the constellations written in freckles across the human’s cheeks, the soft curve of his lips, studying every inch of his strange, scale-less face.
“We need to leave, your highness,” Logan said, his voice a furious whisper. “If it wakes up, we will be in serious trouble.”
“What if it doesn’t wake up?” Virgil asked, tilting his head as he watched the human. He heard Logan struggling behind him, biting back a frustrated yell.
“Does it matter? You have done all you can, Virgil. It is no fault of yours if it doesn’t wake. We need to go.”
“You… you’re right. I hate it when you’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the wet bangs from his eyes, and Logan chuckled.
“You must just be filled with hatred, then,” he said proudly. “I’m glad you’re finally listening. Let’s —”
“Nngh…” They froze at the small, feeble groan, and Logan shared one furious look with Virgil before ducking under the water, leaving him alone. He jerked away from the human as he began to stir, his face scrunching up in the sunlight peeking through the weakening storm clouds.
He pushed himself back into the water and went to duck beneath, but it was too late. His eyes met the human’s and he froze, caught in the awed golden-browns.
“Woah…” The human tried to sit up and began heaving with watery coughs, his eyes squeezing shut as his face crumpled in pain. Virgil went to escape beneath the water, offering the human one sympathetic glance before he left, but the human jerked forward, holding out one hand.
“No, don’t —” Another coughing fit. “— don’t go!” He shoved his mop of sopping curls from his face and started forward; Virgil leaned back, every instinct in him screaming at him to run. But there was genuine, kind curiosity in the sailor’s crackly voice, and something in his eyes kept Virgil from swimming away.
So he stayed. He narrowed his eyes and watched as the human sat back, regarding him curiously. “What… what happened? Did you bring me here?”
Virgil opened his mouth and then closed it; being around a human was bad, but speaking to one was so much worse. He nodded instead, gesturing to the island and then to the pieces of burnt wood washed up around them. Pain flashed through the human’s eyes.
“Oh, that… oh,” he said, his voice a pained whisper. “My… my ship. It’s gone.” He looked on the verge of tears. “My crew, my — Remy, Dolos, they — oh god — are they okay?” he asked quickly, frantically, and Virgil was horrified to see tears filling his eyes and spilling over.
He pointed to the footsteps leading into the forest behind them and the human heaved a shaky sigh of relief, sniffling as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Okay. They’re… okay. Thank god.” He turned back to Virgil, his eyes caught in the glimmering purple-and-black scales along his tail.
“Are — are you… real?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle as he inched closer. Virgil shrank backwards, watching the human warily, nodding once, sharply. The human’s eyes widened and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, wonder written across his soft, round face.
“You saved my life,” he breathed. “I… thank you. How can I repay you?”
“You don’t have to —” He froze, slapping a hand over his mouth. If Logan were there, he’d kill Virgil on the spot; he was talking to a human.
“You can talk!” The human’s face lit up and Virgil jerked backwards, his eyes wide. The human stopped, holding out his hands placatingly, his eyebrows furrowing. “No no no, please don’t go! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”
Slowly, Virgil lowered the hand covering his mouth, his eyes narrowed as he watched the human. “I shouldn’t — I can’t be here. I have to leave.”
The human’s face crumpled. “At least tell me your name?” he asked, leaning forward and gazing into Virgil’s eyes. When Virgil hesitated, he continued. “My name is Patton! It’s nice to meet you!”
“I…” This was bad. This was wrong. He’d saved the human’s life, he’d spoken to it, he’d already broken too many rules and laws to count. Logan was going to kill him when he got back. He glanced into the human — Patton’s eyes and bit his lip. “...Virgil,” he said finally.
“Thank you, Virgil,” Patton said earnestly, his small smile growing into a grin and making Virgil’s heart flutter. Virgil averted his gaze, opening his mouth to speak, but then —
“Patton!”
Patton jumped at the yell, his grin growing wider. He glanced at Virgil before jumping to his feet, his eyes shining with relieved tears. “Remy!” he called, and Virgil’s heart sank as more humans approached, his lungs filling with ice. “I’m here! I’m here, Rem!”
A tall man with dark brown hair pushed his way through the bushes, his face breaking into a wide, relieved grin. The two ran to embrace.
When Patton looked back to the edge of the shore, Virgil was gone.
#im!!!! excited for this!!!!!!!#i hope you all enjoy!!!!#sanders sides#logan sanders#virgil sanders#patton sanders#seaspray#my fanfiction#(i dunno how often i'll be able to update this)#(it's more of a *side* project to work on while i do my ts storytime project)#(but im really excited for this so i hope i can update often!!!0
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seastrider
Summary:
In a seaside tavern, an old sea captain tells a young sailor how it came about that her crew was the only to ever survive a siren attack, but an unexpected guest is listening in.
After enough years of sailing, all the port town taverns begin to look the same. The same wooden sign hanging outside, the same dim interior bustling with swearing sailors and harried merchants. The same once-pretty faces behind the bar, faces that were once beautiful but now were just tired, past their golden years. The same cold bunks upstairs, for those that needed them.
Maria had not sailed in years, but the seaside tavern The Fo’c’sle remained her favorite place in town to sit and have a drink. The owner was fair, the crowd ever-changing. After travelling for so long, settling in one town was a drastic change. But the Fo’c’sle still held its surprises from time to time.
She had been there barely an hour occasionally eying the young woman hiding in the corner who had been there longer than she. Rare anyone sat there for long without their crew at their backs. She was nursing a drink, musing on this, as she watched a crew enter, the rowdy bunch headed directly to the bar. She sipped her too-strong brew,wincing as it hit her throat. She would later blame the over-liquored drink for her lack of attention, for she definitely did not notice the young sailor sliding into the seat across from her until he had settled in.
“Can I help you?” Maria’s voice was gruff, low in her throat.
“You’re Captain Maria, of the Seastrider.” He said in awe as way of answer.
“That was a long time ago, kid.” She made a face but raised her glass to her lips.
“They say you’re the only one to survive a siren attack.” He pushed forward.
“Me ‘n my whole crew.” Maria let her glass slam on the table, the ice chinking together. “Less impressive now, innit?”
The sailor shook his head, eyes wide in wonder. “How did you do it?”
Maria looked to her glass. “Nothing special.” She grumbled.
“Please.” He stared at her with big green eyes. She looked back up to him, breathing in between her teeth. Eyes were never supposed to be that green. Not in a human, anyway. Maria shook her head, taking another gulp of her drink. When she looked back, they were the dull green she would expect.
“It’s a bit of a story.” She relented.
“We’re in port all night.”
“They’re letting kids your age on ships now?” She asked gruffly.
“They say you weren’t much older ‘n me when you became Captain.” He shot back.
A low chuckle rumbled deep in her throat. “Alright, kid.Go get me another drink first. I’m not getting up to refill.”
He quickly did as she bade, fighting his way through the rest of his crew to reach the counter. She slammed the rest of her glass, slowly setting the empty glass. She still held it between her hands, staring at the ice as though it could tell the story for her.
The young sailor returned quickly, sliding the glass across the table. “The lady at the bar said this was your usual.”
“Yeah.” Maria sighed. “So you wanna know how to survive a siren?”
He sat back down, leaning in eagerly. Maria looked around the bar once, from the crew finally settling in the corner to the bartender checking her tips. Her gaze lingered on a young woman sitting in the corner, alone, before she turned her attention back to the sailor before her.
“It’s easy.” Maria’s voice said it was anything but easy.
“You just gotta make her fall in love with you.”
****
I was young, probably too young when I gained control of the Seastrider. My first mate was more experienced, older. She shoulda been Captain. But Cap’n Lok was clear. The ship was mine. Was I excited? Sure, then. Excited and overwhelmed and my head too big. But that’s not the story you’re here for.
You’ve heard of sirens, of course. Any seadog worth his salt knows sirens. It’s avoiding them, that there’s the problem sometimes. Most of us don’t know this, I sure didn’t, but a siren’s first kill is this huge affair. We’ve got coming of age, they’ve got their first kill. The first time they lure someone into the water and pull them too far under.
Well, I was supposed to be her first kill, she would tell me later.
I had no idea. My crew and I were transporting goods from Charina to Balen. Not a short trip, if you haven’t done it. Months on the water. Perfect for a hunter to follow us, to try and learn just what will pull me into that water. It’s different for everyone, you know, their song. Some people hear music from their childhood. Their spouse’s favorite song t’ sing. Hell, I think some people don’t hear a song at all. Sirens can get into your head, make you just...feel things. If you feel you need to be in that water, sometimes that’s all it takes. We all want something. They just use that.
Anyway.
I had no idea. We’re just sailing, right? But one day, one day she lets me see her. Just a glimpse, and I thought I was going nuts. Beautiful, but in that otherworldly kinda way. The kind that don’t belong on this planet. She was just sitting there, on one of of the longboats. Soon she saw me seeing her though, she leapt into that water. I’d never seen one before, how could I have? And let me tell ya. They describe those tails as fishy, but there’s somethin’ more to ‘em than that. Glittering, iridescent, scales… I’ve never seen anything like it. Just that flash of green and blue was almost enough for me to leap in after. But that would be a very different story now, wouldn’t it?
I didn’t tell a damn soul but my first mate. And Ranna, Ranna just sat in my cabin with me listening. When I was done gushing over this damn tail, she so seriously told me, in that slow drawl of hers, that one of us on this ship was gonna die. If we were real unlucky, it would be all of us.
We decided not to tell the crew. They’d just panic, mutiny. Don’t matter much how much your crew loves you. A siren comes into the mix, you’re the best sacrifice they’ve got.
So days pass. No sign of this siren. Finally, a good six nights later, I’m in my cabin when I see her out my damn porthole. Just sitting there again. We kept one of the dinghy’s tethered out there, and there she was, that green glowing face just slightly too off to be human. Too long, mouth too big. An’ she’s just sitting there running her too-long fingers through her dark hair. I’m telling ya, there’s nothing like ‘em. I say she’s green, but it’s more this glow coming from inside her.
So she’s just staring at me. Six days and nights I’ve been dreading this creature, and she’s jus’....sitting there playing with her hair. Watching me write my daily log. Doesn’t move when I get up, when I approach that porthole. It’s open, I always had it open if I was in there working. Sea breeze is one of the best reasons to be on the sea in the first place.
I’m just standing there, my knuckles white I’m gripping the ledge so hard. And this damn siren, she’s just looking at me, holding her hair over her shoulder. She don’t say a word, just lets out this high pitched chuckle. Think a bell, or glass shattering. The ice in this cup tinkling. Somehow none of those things and all three at once. She’s just smiling at me.
I wanna say something. I wanna know which of my crew she’s after. Can I trade her something other than one of my sailor’s lives. But a heavy knock comes at my door, and before I can even turn, she’s jumping back into the water and she’s gone.
I don’t even remember what Ranna needed to talk to me about. It sure wasn’t as important as that siren.
Before I knew it, it was every night. I’d write, or get the chance to read sometimes, alone in my cabin but for that siren outside my porthole. She never spoke, just played with her hair and watched me. No matter what questions I managed to stammer out. I don’t know why I never thought to just...shoot her. I doubt I woulda been able to anyhow. She was fast. If I ever managed to forget she wasn’t human, that speed reminded me.
This went on for a damn fortnight. Every night. Then one day I’m sitting there, and she says one word. Kai. And somehow, I know it’s her name. This siren just gave me her name. She didn’t look at me all night, just stared out over the water. Telling me her name.
I was shocked. I remember, that next day I existed in a sort of fog. That night I took some of the fresh fruit we still had left into my cabin to wait for Kai. When I watched close enough, I could see her swim close, got to watch her crawl up onto the dinghy and get comfortable. That night I offered her our last apple. They were a rarity on these voyages, but somehow I thought she would appreciate it.
Boy, did she. She ate down the whole damn thing, core and all.
Over the next couple nights, I shared more of the fruits with her. What we could spare, anyway. And she, she shared her voice with me. That magic voice. I’ll never forget the night she brought up a fish, a fish I’d never seen before. She said they lived too deep for our fishermen to find, but they tasted the best. I’d only eaten fish raw once, didn’t really like it, but damn if that fish wasn’t the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten. And she just sat there with a smile on her too-big mouth. I tried not to think about the fangs in there.
Sirens, you know, with their big mouth of razor sharp teeth, just waiting to tear you apart like I was tearing apart that fish.
But she never took anyone in my crew. People these days, they say I survived a siren attack. Kai never attacked.
Her sisters did.
Let me tell you something, kid, before we get to that. I’m skipping ahead way too much.
Kai, Kai spent every night on that dinghy. Talking to me. Sharing her deep sea fish. I kept waiting for her to take one of my crew. Eventually, she confessed. I was the target. She was supposed to drag me down into the water with her. I asked her, scared- oh I was so scared- what was keeping her from doing it. And Kai, beautiful Kai, just let that chuckle ring and played with her hair. That look, that coy look of hers. I doubt anyone’s ever seen a siren blush, but trust me, she was blushing.
She would tell me later she had been following us since shore. Saw me kiss sweet little Terra goodbye. Oh, Terra. You know, I always meant to go back to Charina and check in on her. But she knew better than to expect commitment from me. I just wish I had had more to give her.
So there’s Kai, sitting outside my cabin, telling me she knew she couldn’t kill me after watching that kiss with Terra. I thought, maybe, she thought Terra was my wife. No, Kai knew the nature of it all. Just a pretty girl with some room in her bed for a seadog for a few nights.
I spent way too long trying to figure it out.
And Kai just brought me gifts and sat with me.
When people hear a siren sing, it’s usually the last thing they ever do hear, so they don’t really get to appreciate it. Later, I mean. Can’t think back on that sweet beautiful music. I mourn you all for that, I really do.
I remember that first night. Kai came into my cabin, closed the porthole. Bound me to my chair. And she sang. Oh, she sang. There is magic in every siren song. I don’t think they can help it. The sound of it made me...oh, it made me want. Want her. Want the sea. Made me want to go into the sea with her. When her song was over, I still felt that… pull to her, but it was controllable. She untied me and I didn’t go leaping to my death.
She would do that for me, not as often as I woulda liked, but enough. Gently bound me and sang to me. I tried to convince her to let me go, but she told me every time that it would be my death. I would crawl right out that porthole to join the sea, so I wouldn’t have to be without her again.
Anyway.
Kai would later tell me, her sisters started worrying for her. She shoulda killed me by then and Kai was starting to look bad. Excommunicated, was the word she used. That’s what would happen to her, best case. I knew she was supposed to kill me. I didn’t know her family- all sirens, really- took it so damn seriously.
So one evening I’m up on deck with the crew. Ranna had put together a little play and half the crew’s up there trying to remember lines and improvising the rest. Costumes, the whole bit. And we’re all just lounging there having a good time, when the song starts.
Like I said, siren songs are specialized to their victim. No one’s gonna leap into the sea but for one of those special songs. But there’s still magic in a song. Just not as strong. Enough that my crew’s at the edge, peering into the dark waters.
My bosun’s over there, yelling he can see someone in the water. Chief engineer figures it out, that it’s a siren. Then on the opposite side, Cook’s yelling about another one. There’s four, all told, just swimming alongside us, singing their damn songs. Ranna’s trying to get everyone below deck, away from it all. I don’t know why, but their songs… they aren’t doing nothin’ to me. So I’m up there trying to figure out what the hell to do about these hell demons following us.
Later, Kai would tell me, they were the first souls she ever sent down to Davy Jones. Maybe the only.
Ranna and I are standing there, staring into the water, clueless and helpless. These sirens are following us, just singing and singing. They don’t need to stop that song to breathe, you know, it’s just this constant flowing. I’m worried my crew’s gonna come back and up and get killed, or Ranna is gonna...she was fighting so hard, not to just climb over the side and leap in.
And then one starts screaming behind us.
So me ‘n Ranna run over to the other side but all we see’s blood. Crimson flowers blooming in the water. Ranna’s asking what the hell happened, did one of the crew manage to shoot it, did…
I saw Kai first, already grappling with the second siren. She’s all sharp claws and gnashing teeth, tearing the siren apart. I can’t even speak, not even to answer Ranna. She’s got one hand on me, gripping my shoulder tight as we watch the bloodbath, asking what the hell. What the hell.
I swear Kai looked up to me, staring deep into my soul as she dove below water. Two mutilated sirens just floating there. Already I hear splashing on the other side of the ship, screams and splashing and the song stops. Finally stops. Ranna and I are running back over, watching the three fight in the water. We can barely see anything, but I recognize that screech of pain. That’s Kai.
Soon we can’t see any of them. Ranna says it’s over. I wait up there, watching for Kai, while Ranna goes below deck to check on everyone. The crew slowly comes back up, all hushed whispers and scared chatter. And I’m just waiting…
Ranna’s the one finally pulls me away, leads me down into my cabin. We open the door and Ranna’s got her gun out, I’m pushing my way past her into my room. Kai’s sitting there, leaning against the wall, chest heaving. I see she’s got one hand clutching her side. I collapse there next to her, already yelling for Ranna to get the doc. You’ll never find a better first mate than Ranna. She just turns, runs for the doc. Not a question.
But the doc, the doc has plenty of questions. I tell him, you stitch her up, I’ll give you answers. By god he does. Guess siren body isn’t so different from our own, that human part. He seems to know well enough what to do. Gets her all fixed up, but Kai’s just sitting there quiet, those brilliant green eyes closed, while I whisper to Doc and Ranna.
And I tell ‘em, about Kai.
Doc doesn’t want to believe me, that she’s harmless, but it’s hard to argue when she’s just saved our hides. Ranna doesn’t say anything, but then, she knew a siren was around. She leads the doc out and it’s just me and Kai.
Kai, my beautiful Kai, who just saved my whole damn crew. My whole ship. I don’t even know what to say. What do you say to that? A siren, saving your ship instead of pulling it all under? But she understood anyway. Held onto me with those long webbed fingers.
I didn’t think I got any sleep that night, but I musta dozed off, ‘cause Kai was gone when I woke.
I didn’t see her that night. Or the next. I started wondering if she died. But then one morning Ranna’s pounding on my door, telling me I gotta come, and quick. I follow her up to the deck and the entire crew is staring, calling, at the silent siren perched on the bow. Doc’s there, assuring them she’s safe. Everyone moves out of the way for me, lets me reach her.
Kai’s smile was unnerving, all sharp fangs and wide lips. But there was a light behind it anyway. I sat there with her, and she told me those were her sisters. Told me why they were there. And when she tried to go back home? Well, no one wants a sister-killer. She’s just sitting there playing with her hair, telling me this.
So I invite her to stay with us.
And that’s how my ship got its own personal guardian angel. The crew, they got used to her being around. Kai would come up on deck some nights, singing to the stars. Like I said, there’s enough magic in that song to enrapture most folk. But none of them ever wanted to leap into the water.
And funny thing was, after Kai joined us, neither did I.
****
Maria finished her drink, placing the empty glass next to her other one. Across from her, the sailor sat rapt. She leaned back in her seat, sighing. He waited for more, but she was misty eyed, staring past his shoulder.
“Did Kai stay with you?” He asked eagerly. “Is she still out there?”
Maria jerked back to the present, looking to him. “Oh, she stayed with me. Yeah…” She lifted her glass, eyed the melting ice, set it back down. “Sirens live a long time. I’m sure she’s out there still.”
“Then…” The sailor frowned. “Why are you here?”
“My sailing days are over.” Maria would not look him in the eye. “No beautiful young woman is gonna want this grizzled old soul.”
The sailor scoffed as he stood, taking Maria’s empty glasses in his hands. He said nothing, just took the glasses to the counter. Maria watched him talking to the woman behind the bar, eyes sliding back to the young woman in the corner of the bar. Dark features, darker hair, a long face. Maria shook her head, looking to her hands, clasped on the table.
“I thought that was you. But I had to be sure.”
A tinkling voice, like glass, like ice. Maria’s back stiffened and she sat straight up, head jerking back to look up. The young woman stood beside her, smile twisting her wide lips. They parted, revealing too-sharp teeth. She held out one hand, the one not now gripping Maria’s shoulder.
“Name’s Kai Seastrider.”
The patrons all turned to look as the heavy chair crashed to the floor, Maria leaning on the table with one hand as she jumped to her feet. “Y...you… It can’t be.”
The woman’s toothy smile said otherwise. “There is all sorts of magics in the sea, Maria.”
Maria leaned herself against the table, stumbling over words. So many questions, all of them fighting to get out. But Kai- could it really be Kai?- pressed a long finger to her lips. Long, slightly webbed fingers.
“Trust me.”
That musical voice, how could it be anyone else?
“You stopped sailing.” Kai whispered. “You left me.”
Maria looked down in shame. “I know I did. I couldn’t…”
“You were scared.” Kai’s words could easily have been accusatory, but they were tender, soft. “I understand. Not everyone loves the monsters the sea offers them.”
“But I did.” Maria whispered. “I do,” she correctly quickly, looking back up to Kai.
Kai’s smile was bright. “You never…” She looked to Maria’s hands.
“I never married. There was never…” Never anyone else.
Dazzling, Maria would call that smile on Kai’s face as she took her hands and led her from The Fo’c’sle. They left the fallen chair, the sailor sitting at the bar watching them leave, rubbing between his fingers the odd gold coin the odd woman had given him to ask Maria for her story.
Maria led Kai to her home, her empty home that for the first time, felt full. A silly grin plastered itself on her wrinkled face. The Fo’c’sle really was full of surprises.
She never would figure out exactly how Kai found the sea witch, had gained land legs. But none of that mattered. As years passed, Maria stopped pushing for answers she knew would never come. She stopped questioning this blessing.
And every night, Kai would sing Maria to sleep, and Maria never felt the tug to join the sea. Siren songs are specific to each person, they say, pulling you into the water with promises of everything you ever wanted. But everything Maria wanted was there in her bed. The sirens never pulled her into the sea. Instead, she pulled her siren onto the land.
Enjoy what you read here? Considering helping a single mom out over at my Ko-Fi!
1 note
·
View note
Photo
Two Faces - Chapter 8
True Colors
Wattpad link in FAQ
After the success of the first few nights about a week ago, Jekyll had begun full treatment of himself, keeping rigorous notes after each night of debauchery and fun. What else was it but fun! The thrill of being alive, spending time with Lilly, Rosie and Andy without worry of keeping up the act of being okay.
Because he was okay for once.
Even as Jekyll, he was alright, he breathed a little easier and found himself waking with a satisfaction following the evenings. Of course, the melancholy and lingering shadows weren't fading as he'd hoped, but never mind that.
Because he was someone new.
Absinthe, it had been disgusting and overly sweet at first, but the taste of licorice was starting to grow on Hyde. He sat in a booth to one side of the Mountain Tavern, his feet up on the table, watching things silently with a smug little grin. His clothes fit better, given that he'd found some of his older outfits from years before. They were a little too tight, but nothing a little stretching and twisting couldn't solve. He wasn't quite ready to wear those clothes he'd ordered, they still needed to be washed anyhow.
What he wore now was a blue vest and there were some popped stitches along the side, but it fit better than Jekyll's clothes that had swamped him before.
Lost in thought, Edward almost didn't notice when Lilly took a seat beside him. He looked over and smiled, "Lilly! How good to see you, again. How are you this evening?"
"Wondering if you're here for business or play," she said knowingly. Hyde felt his face get hot and he ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to snicker. "Weeeeell, I wasn't planning on it but, I mean, if you're free." He winked and Lilly grinned, Hyde still hoping she caught his meaning.
"I'm almost finished for the evening, you'd be my last," she said with a smirk, placing a hand on his thigh.
"Can I buy you a drink first? At the very least?" Hyde offered, holding up his own glass to show he was in need of another drink. Lilly raised a brow, "How gentlemanly. I could go for a beer."
"So unladylike, any particulars?"
"Something dark." Edward grinned and stood, taking her hand before he left and kissing it. "Of course, my lady."
He saw her eyes go wide in surprise, but strode away before she could say anything, snickering to himself. Living on impulse was certainly an effort, but already it was making things more entertaining. And Lilly had sought him out this time, perhaps because she recognized a return client, or perhaps something else?
Hyde snickered again and set his glass on the counter, waiting patiently as Andy strode over. "Refill Edward?"
"Yes please, and a dark beer for the dark lady at my table," Edward said pointing to Lilly.
"Watch your tongue, Rosie might take that the wrong way," Andy said with a frown, taking the glass.
"I could take that ivory colored pipsqueak," Edward said with a smirk, putting his head on his hands. He frowned and brushed his hair out of his face, it'd only been a few days with bangs like these and they were starting to get more than a little annoying. Andy returned a moment later carrying a small glass and a mug of some dark brew.
"Bad hair day?" he asked, smirking.
"You could say that," Hyde said, scowling and tucking it behind his ear only for it to fall back into his face. Andy chuckled and reached under the bar, pulling out a thin blue ribbon. "One of the other girls left this upstairs the other day, you probably need it more than her though."
Edward took the ribbon and raised a brow, "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Tie your hair up, idiot," Andy said, shaking his head as he walked away. Hyde scowled and shook his head, but held onto the ribbon as he took his absinthe and Lilly's beer.
He resumed his gentlemanly smile and strode towards the table, only to notice a broad shouldered man with reddish hair leaning on the table. He was saying something to Lilly, and Edward could see her expression was cold. A familiar kind of cold, the mask you put on when you were trying not to cry, the kind that barely held back anger.
As Hyde got closer, he only heard: "-itch like you would be better off as my maid rather than pretending to be a Lady for any guy too drunk to-"
Edward set his drinks down, took a deep breath, then slammed his hands on the table. "Who the hell do you think you are?" The guy, smelling strongly of whiskey, turned to look at Hyde, his flirty, half asleep expression turning into a glare. He stood straighter, a full head taller than Edward and at least forty pounds heavier. Hyde squared his shoulders, unafraid.
"Who's askin'?" the big guy said.
"A friend of the lady you were just insulting," Hyde snarled, balling his fists.
"She ain't a lady," the guy countered. He grinned, "Tell ya what though, she's probably only good in the bedroom, I wouldn't mind sharing if you-" Before he realized what he was doing, Hyde had pulled back and threw a punch right into the smug arse's face. He felt his knuckles pop uncomfortably on impact and the guy was practically thrown to the side, crashing into a card table and throwing cards everywhere.
Edward cussed loudly and clutched his hand, feeling it throb, not noticing his own strength through the pain. Lilly called out to him and he turned, hurrying over and forgetting the ache in his hand for a moment, "What??" She took his hand and, pulling a bandage like strip from her bag, she began to frantically wrap his throbbing hand. "Lilly what're you doing?"
"Protecting your hands from breaking, this guy is not going down without a fight," she said worriedly, tying it off at the wrist. She gasped and turned him around to see Big Guy staggering to his feet, turning with a glare at them.
He shouted and lunged, Hyde and Lilly dodged in separate directions, meeting on the other side of the table as he crashed into the chairs. Lilly took Hyde's other hand and began to wrap it, both of them looking uneasily at the drunkard as he struggled to his feet, cursing and spitting. Tempers beginning to flare, people were shouting at him and at Hyde for ruining their card game and spilling drinks, but it was clear this guy didn't care about them.
Lilly tied the knot and nodded at Edward, "Good luck and, thanks."
"No problem?" he said, grinning awkwardly. He was shaking with excitement, or was it fear? Impossible to tell, but it felt good. He nodded at Lilly and turned to face the drunkard, raising his fists and frowning, "Let's dance."
Only to be pulled back by someone tugging on his hair, and a glance back revealed Lilly with the blue ribbon, tying back his hair. He gave it a test shake and, finding nothing falling in his face, he grinned. Now he was really ready to fight.
Someone pulled the drunkard to his feet, speaking in a low voice. They shared a nod, then turned to glare at Hyde. This was going to be more than a scuffle at this rate.
Someone let out a shout, there was the sound of shattering glass, and everything imploded.
Drinks were thrown, Lilly grabbed a chair for defense only to start swinging it like a bat. Andy was behind the bar with a broom, pushing people off the counter top and swatting away flying glasses. And in the center of it all, practically in a fight ring, were Hyde and the drunkard that someone had called McGrath.
He charged at Hyde, swinging both hands over head in a downward swipe, Edward sidestepping just in time for McGrath to smash his hands onto a table and tip it sideways. Hyde scowled and let out a shout, lunging forward and driving his elbow down into McGrath's back with full strength. Hyde barely managed to catch himself as McGrath's face followed his hands into the table, tipping it completely and crashing to the floor.
Edward backpedaled, swallowing hard and feeling his heart pound in his chest. A grin tugged itself onto his face as McGrath stood, turning with a growl to face the shorter man. Hyde stepped forward to go in again when someone grabbed him from behind under his shoulders, pinning his arms back and lifting him off his feet.
Whoever it was held Hyde easily despite how he wiggled and struggled, kicking wildly and cussing like a sailor. McGrath grinned and stormed over, rolling up his sleeve. "You little-" and he slammed his fist right under Hyde's ribs, knocking the air out of him.
Edward gasped and let out a wheeze, crying out in pain when McGrath punched him again. As he pulled back for a third time, Hyde curled up and kicked into the air, the heel of his shoe finding a home in McGrath's nose and sending him backwards.
The guy holding Hyde cried out in surprise for his friend, his grip loosening for a second, long enough for Edward to slam his head back at full force. The guy's grip gave way and Hyde dropped to his feet, turning fast and throwing a punch into the guy's gut.
Hyde felt someone grab his hair from behind and his eyes widened in surprise as they pulled hard, yanking him backwards and slamming him into a table behind them. Drinks went flying as Edward crashed to the ground, beer spilling down his vest and stinking of alcohol.
McGrath grabbed Hyde by the shirt collar and dragged him back to his feet. He threw two punches with the same hand before Hyde had a chance to react, hitting Edward twice in the face, his mouth and in his right eye. Hyde ducked before McGrath could land a third, pulling himself out of the larger man's grip and backing away until he felt a table behind him.
He could feel a bruise beginning to swell around his eye and his lip, his heart and head were pounding and every muscle was shaking with adrenaline. It was hard for him to breathe, but still he was managing with a sort of wheeze. As McGrath stepped forward to throw another punch, Edward scowled, this ended now.
He reached behind him and found the cool throat of a bottle, and as McGrath lunged for him again, he swung with the bottle and shattered it across McGrath's face. The larger man let out a shrill cry of pain as small cuts scraped across his face, Hyde stepped back with the shattered glass dropping from his hand.
Thank god Lilly had wrapped them.
McGrath shouted in pain and his buddy went to his side, checking his friend's face. He helped the bigger man stand, glaring at Hyde before helping him stumble off. Edward scowled, finally catching his breath as the chaos around them continued.
A bottle flew past his head, but Hyde didn't notice.
He scanned the tavern, searching for Lilly, and found her behind the bar, fending people off with Andy. He nodded to himself and made a break for it, grabbing his cape from where it'd fallen on the floor and vaulting over a table. He ducked under the flying fists of another fight and dodged a young woman swinging a stool like an axe.
With surprising agility for his sore and shaking frame, he slid over the bar counter and crashed behind it. Lilly let out a shout of surprise and he gave her a small wave, propping himself up against the bar and letting out a groan of pain. Lilly dropped down beside him, "You okay?"
"I'm exhausted," he said bitterly. He looked at her and grinned, "But I mean, I won."
"Only because you glassed him," Lilly said with a frown. "That wasn't fair play."
"I don't play fair when someone refuses to respect another," Hyde said firmly, nodding.
Andy crouched nearby both of them, "We need to leave before this gets any worse. The girls already know to stay in their rooms and-"
"Mine's still unlocked, I grabbed the key before the fight started," Lilly said, searching in her bag. "If we can cause a distraction, we might be able to make a break for upstairs."
"The way's practically clear," Andy said, pointing.
"Then let's go!" Lilly said. She paused, turning to look at Hyde.
Only then did he too realize he'd been staring with a tiny, odd smile on his face. He shook his head vigorously and grinned excitedly, "Let's go then! What're we waiting for!"
He tried to stand and hissed in pain, but pushed through it and dragged himself to his feet. He offered Lilly a hand and they both stood, ducking low behind the bar before making a break for the stairs to the upper floors, to the inn. Andy ran close behind them and the trio sprinted upstairs, narrowly dodging thrown projectiles and a pair of scared women trying to flee up the stairs.
Edward tripped on the top step, only managing to stay on his feet because Lilly grabbed his arm and helped him on. They made it to the end of the hall and Lilly unlocked her room, ushering Hyde and Andy in behind her before shutting it and locking it.
The chaos from downstairs was leaking through the floor, shouting and screaming, but all mingled with some odd manic laughter. The room itself was near silent but for a small stove in one corner that creaked and popped occasionally. It was dark, only a small bit of moonlight and lamplight leaking through the curtains that hid the window, and there was a sweet perfume smell in the air.
They all sighed in relief and Edward dropped onto the bed, letting out a groan as the bruises forming on his stomach let out a shout of protest. The bed was soft, the sheets felt fresh and clean and he just wanted to lay there for a while and disappear until the bruises stopped hurting.
He remembered this bed from the first night, the nights that followed and Lilly, but now he was too sore to think of scandalous things. Sleep seemed optimal, but all things considered it would be a very bad idea to fall asleep here and awake as Jekyll. That alone could cause quite a problem.
Edward sat up a little and began to undo the buttons on the vest, pulling up his shirt and prodding his stomach. The muscles there were already sensitive, especially just under his ribs, which was to be expected. He lay back on the bed and began to feel around on his face, testing the edges of the bruises under his eye and on his lip.
"Edward? Eddie? Are you okay?" Lilly asked, walking over and sitting on the bed. Hyde prodded his face, "I think so. I'm sore as hell and I want a nap."
She snickered and took his hand, untying the bandages from around his wrist. "I, appreciate what you did for me. You didn't need to though."
"I do whatever I want," Edward said with a huff. "But, I couldn't just stand by when that, arse, said that to you. It was stupid and insulting and-"
"And I hear it all the time," Lilly said solemnly, pulling the wrapping free. She took Hyde's other hand and began to do the same. Edward shook his head, "You looked ready to cry. I could see it in your eyes Lilly, I know that feeling. You didn't deserve that."
"I'm a Flower Girl, it's part of the job."
"But it shouldn't be," Hyde insisted, lifting his hand to his face to inspect it. Dark bruises were forming on his knuckles and the skin was chafed from the bandages rubbing on his skin. His knuckles popped uncomfortably as he flexed his fingers. When Lilly finished unwrapping his other hand, he found the same thing.
Lilly sighed, "It's ridiculous for women like me to expect any kind of respect, we-"
"Are working women doing your jobs and getting paid for it," Edward interrupted, rubbing his sore eye and almost enjoying the sting. "You're doing what you have to to survive in their world, you deserve their respect at least."
"You, really think so?" she asked, sounding surprised and kind of floored.
"If a scumbag like me gets respect, you deserve at much or more respect," he insisted.
"You aren't a scumbag," Lilly said, smirking.
"I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Hyde," Andy said, sitting in a wooden chair by the door. "You ladies work day in and day out, you get sick 'n injured 'n all manner of things, you deserve more respect than those drunkards give you."
"You only say that because you're married to Mrs. C," Lilly said, smiling wider.
"So?" asked Hyde, sitting up with a hiss. He bumped Lilly, "Just because he's married doesn't make it any less true! You, you girls, are incredible. I keep meaning to ask Rosie to teach me how to pickpocket but I never can remember. Also, thanks for wrapping up my hands, and my hair." He flicked his ponytail off his shoulder, "I like it this way, a lot."
Lilly chuckled, "It suits you. You're welcome, Eddie."
A gunshot fired off downstairs and all three of them froze.
"Perhaps I should call the police," Andy said, grimacing.
~
"Sir? Did you fall out of bed?" asked Poole the next morning.
Jekyll touched the bruise on his lip and cringed, "I uh, yes, the eye, I did fall out of bed. Hit the bedside table on the way down." He'd awoke, aching, sore and hung over, worse than before. Luckily most of the bruising, now an ugly purple color, could be hidden with clothing. His face, however, was not so easily disguised.
"And, your lip? Sir?" Poole asked, frowning suspiciously. He grinned half heartedly, "I, ran into a door frame. At full speed, without realizing it."
"Sharp door frame," she said, shaking her head.
#Two Faces Story#mod art#mod writing#Miss Lilly#Edward Hyde#Jekyll and Hyde#Jekyll & Hyde#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde#the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde#dr. jekyll and mr. hyde#dr jekyll and mr hyde#sorry for the radio silence this week#another AU has me fixated somethign fierce
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spring Tea
Okay, so...
@davosshorthand - remember a long time ago when I said I was writing something filthy for Davos and Bryn? Yeah, well, here it is. It’s not finished, but here are the pieces I did go ahead and write. Maybe one day I’ll come back and polish it off, but the basic premise is this:
Davos drinks tea that was made by Mel for Stannis, and Bryn helps him take care of the complications it causes, since he came there to speak with Stannis on Robb’s behalf. They get it on it the back of Stannis’ favorite car.
Warning: This. Is. FILTHY.
"I... Ser Brynden..." his face burned, acutely aware of the wetness on the front of his trousers. They felt hot, too tight around his thighs and obvious erection, and he swore he could see the throb of it through the cotton. It bobbed, fat and heavy as he shifted, a tortured groan leaving his dry mouth. His hands reached, fumbling, as if to hide the prominent bulge. But they slipped, caught, ended up grazing the wet head through the seam.
He actually whined, a deep throated noise that made his face burn hotter, even as his cock jumped to release another spurt of pre. But then... then Brynden's strong fingers wove with his, stopping him, and tugged open the slicked metal belt loop. His whole form shook, stubs grabbing at the Tully's hands for stability.
"Wait, I -" He tried to reason it away, to stop the other, and question what was going on. But his world was shrinking rapidly to the
~^~^~
Brynden paused though, long fingers darting into Davos' pocket to unlock the car, and within less than a moment he was shoved inside the posh interior. He groaned at the friction of his already soiled trousers, rubbing right over the ridge of his weeping cock. His hands scrambled against the leather, jaw clenched, and working as the other man ducked inside.
Brynden wasted no time, knees pushing between Davos' to spread his thighs, the wet outline of his arousal downright obsene. Davos took deep breaths through his nose, fire already scorching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The leather hissed under calloused palms, as Brynden slammed the door behind him, the roomy interior giving them just enough space to fit in the backseat. Which was quite the feat, after all, the Blackfish was no small man.
"Now wait, this isn't - I'm not..." He babbled, but then... then the other man looked at him and he stopped, gulping as Brynden reached down.
-'-'-
"I don't... don't care. Just... I need it." Davos couldn't explain it, the desire deeper than his blood and marrow, stronger than his will. Who was he kidding? The Blackfish was attractive. And it wasn't the idea of taming him, nor finally holding him down as some women might have entertained. No, it was the wilderness that seemed to make up his very being, from the rivers in his eyes, to the throb of his heart... like the surf against the water darkened rocks, the white spray that roared, and reared, ready to tear him down.
It was the idea that his soul could not be tamed, as violent and reckless and lonely as the sea itself. And many men had tried and failed, Davos himself, to fill that void within the cool caress of the spray. How could he? When he had not known it till now? As Brynden's hands gripped his hips and brought him in, held him tight and fast.
But then one slipped away, the undeniable click of a bottle opening, and he could smell mint. He looked up, dazed, irises already misty and pupils dilated. His lips quivered, watching as Brynden's calloused fingers were doused in the too fresh tang. It was bright and white against his long, tanned digits, curling, and streaming down his wrist, with flecks of jade green in it. Lotion... whose he didn't know. Didn't care.
Davos arched his hips, strong thighs looped over the Tully's own, and waited. His chest jumped, head falling back against the leather seat, which squeaked and hissed as he tensed. Toes curling, knees bending, as one hand spread him, and the other - slick and cool - grazed his entrance. Davos gasped, licked his suddenly dry lips, and swallowed hard.
"Shhh, relax for me now," the Blackfish rumbled. His voice was honey, though with the grit of salt and earth, no, something less bitter, but not too sweet. Cinnamon was a better fit, spicy on the tongue, but still enough to send a shudder down his spine. A gentle rasp of hot air, lilted syllables strewn together. His northern accent added to the flavor, cool and strong.
And Davos did, unable to do otherwise, ever the obedient sailor. Brynden's slick fingers prodded, one sliding in slowly, and he couldn't help the hitch of his breath, nor the groan that left him. Perfect, good, but almost too much. He was clenched so tight, unnaturally so. He never remembered it being this hard, yet he knew he could take more, needed more.
"Another." He rumbled, too far gone to wince at the sound of his own voice, layered with desire and shame. "Another, now, I -" It came, too soon, but barely fast enough to satisfy the ache in his balls. They felt so heavy, drawn up to where they hurt, and his eyes couldn't focus through the anguish and pleasure. Davos closed them, breaths coming faster, through his mouth now, and ran a hand down.
Trailed it through the sweat on his stomach, palm flat and tickled by the tacky cotton of his button up, and moaned at the first stroke of his fingers grazing his cock. It jumped, another shot of thick semen leaving him as Brynden's fingers gave an experimental thrust. Davos hissed, taking himself in hand, and gave a tug.
No! Fuck, it throbbed against his palm, in tandem with the pulse in his neck, but it burned when he did that. But then... then Brynden stroked again, fingers thick and rough and they ran just so over his walls, making him jerk and his hand pulled over the head of his prick. Oh - almost too much, but more than enough to make him want it again. Just using his hand wouldn't work, he needed the other to –
"Another," He groaned. "Please, another!" The Blackfish complied, adding a third, and he shuddered. Brynden started to move them, in and out, alternating between thrusting long and slow, and hard and fast. Davos whined, a pitiful sound that any other time he would have been ashamed of, but he didn't give a damn in that moment.
His hand worked in accordance, rough inhales, and groaning exhales. He could feel the end, as he rubbed under his foreskin, and lamented his mangled digits. Would have made things easier, the agony less unbearable. His other hand reached, finding the pillar of Brynden's unoccupied arm, which kept him locked above him.
Davos' dull nails dug into the tendons, the tinted windows misting over in the late autumn, as his breaths fogged before his face. Euphoria licked up his abdomen, as Brynden's
-'-'-
"What the hells was in that tea?" Brynden snarled, though did not stop, and Davos pushed his legs into his back. He kept pulling, tugging, twisting his palm up over the slick head, down the vein on the underside, and probed his slit with his nail. It didn't matter, he still felt an ache, deeper than even his blood it seemed, to be filled.
"Bryn... Bryn..." He couldn't even say his full name anymore, could barely remember his own, as his chest heaved. Sightless sea blue orbs watching his breath fog before his face, the droplets that formed and fell on the window leaving tracks, to mirror the burning ones down his face. Davos groaned on a particular thrust, a loud, filthy wet noise filling the car. His thighs ached, even as he drew the other man closer, and shuddered as his entrance constricted.
-'-'-
He sobbed, cursed in the nigh darkness, and choked on the humid air. It smelled of sex and sweat, the Braavosi bourbon of Brynden's breath, semen and that damn, minty lotion made stale on the leather seats. "Why... why did ye -" Davos stopped, stuttering to a halt on the swirling darkness in the other's eyes. The black of the river, worse yet, the fish that lived in those waters, come to swallow him.
"Tell me what ye want," He rasped, and the ex-sailor shivered from more than just the agonizing lust in his veins. "This...?" His hips worked, a wonderful, filling swirl that felt as if it were pushing into his lungs. Made his vision speckle and hips buck, lips opening in a silent plea. "Or this...?" More jagged, less deep, but precisely into the spot that made him jerk. His hands scrambling, the one over his cock squeezing in time to ring another few droplets of semen, and he gave a full body shudder.
But Brynden didn't move after, making him lick his lips, try to buck into him as he gave his erection another worthless tug. "Well?" He hated the amusement he could hear in his voice, the lilting drawl of his accent that made his cock jump against his palm in need. Seven above...
"I want..." Davos finally murmured, head falling back in surrender as he panted. "Ah want you ta gah-!" the Blackfish was a cruel bastard, giving another leisurely thrust, and he let out a needy groan. "F-fuck. Fuck me. Please, it hurts... I need..." his balls ached, so tight and full against his knuckles. "Fuck me. Hard, fast..." That was all he needed, hips sliding back, making the air leave his lungs as a desperate whine. Meaning he was unable to cry out when he came back, only gasp, and tighten his fists as he slammed inside.
-'-'-
Pressed his hips down, forced him to submit, to be filled and fucked and come. Finally, so hard his eyes blacked out and sprinkled with color, and wave after wave of pleasure melted down his spine. Like the salty, summer surf in Dorne, so hot it was cold. A river with a Blackfish, that had brought him down, down, so far he'd drowned, and he didn't think he'd ever wake up. His chest stuttered, mixing breaths, and their tongues gave one final stroke before they were forced to separate. To breathe instead of drink the other in, chests heaving and brushing each other’s. Davos felt Brynden's lips graze his own, forced to swallow the heat of his exhales, and thus his own.
His tongue lolled out, fat and suddenly so dry, strangely swollen to taste the other. All sweat, and bitter bourbon. There was something else too, unique and wild, though he could not name it. Brynden responded in kind, tongues dancing lazily, and with no real purpose. They did so only for a moment, till it became too much to bare, and the Blackfish slowly lowered his head.
Davos panted, heavy, steady inhales as he tried to remember how to move his legs. Brynden shook above him on his elbows, burying his face against his collar, his silvery locks catching in the ex-sailor's beard. Davos raised his shaky hands, swirling them on the other's shoulder blades, and pulled him down onto his chest. Never mind the smell or damp heat, or how close to passing out from exhaustion he was... Brynden was a welcome weight.
They stayed that way, breathing heavily, and listened to the other. Davos could hear his heart in his ears, a steady thunder that slowly died, and he could hear Brynden's too. Slower, softer, but still there... he turned his head, placing a kiss on the other's brow. The Blackfish huffed softly, nuzzling his neck, and shifted atop him. Davos groaned softly, burrowing his nose against the worn, soft plaid of his shoulder as he drew back, still breathing so deeply against him. It sounded lude and wet, the ex-smuggler shuddering as it slowly left him, but arched his back to make it easier. He felt... empty, even flaccid as Brynden had become, it was better than the strange numbness that overcame his leaving.
He let out a stuttered breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he fully withdrew, swallowing hard, and tried to relax his shaking legs. The Blackfish reached down, stroking his thighs, even rubbed his thumbs into the juncture of his arse. Davos hummed, letting his eyes lull, and sighed pleasantly. He wanted to curl up and sleep.
#;;Tales from the River ((Drabble))#;;His Smuggler ((Davos Seaworth))#davosshorthand#((sorry not sorry))#((This is awful))#((forgive me))#((SOOOOO NSFW.....))
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Keeper of the Grove (Part 80)
Winter stood in the center of the Raucous Room, laughing with maniacal glee as Abner’s army of combat golems were utterly decimated by gigantic and ferocious water elementals, all resembling the animals and mythological creatures her plushies were based off of.
Bubblegum Sprinkles the Unicorn Doctor pranced about the vanguard, trampling melee fighters under his hooves with grace and deadly efficiency, icy sparkles flying from his majestic mane and tail, goring the larger golems with his horn, or sending it crashing down with deadly ice spikes erupting where it struck.
The back lines were being massacred by a swarm of exotic birds with colourful feathers and outlandish outfits, Tiki, Wala, Nunu, and Mei-Mei pecking, slashing, and dodging in perfect coordination, a graceful dance to the tune of music only they could hear, and the accompanying sounds of golems desperately trying to shoot them out of the sky before they were rapidly torn apart with sharp talons and beaks.
The giant fought off all manner of elementals in all manner of hats and clothes, such as komodo dragons, chinchillas, and woodpeckers wearing down its ankles (now with a very clear and obvious straight line across them where Weiss had dismembered it last time); dogs, wolves, and hellhounds holding down its arms or wrenching its sword away and playing keep-away with it; and cats, bears, and armadillos throwing themselves at its head and chest to blind it by latching onto its face, mauling it without mercy, or trying to knock it off balance.
The giant kicked, pulled, and punched, and when it was free it threw Winter’s elementals into each other, dispelling them almost as fast as she was resummoning them and siccing them on it once more. Finally, the assault stopped, all of them retreating or knocked off for the last time.
The titan kicked Cerby the hellhound in her tail on her way out, and seemed to sigh in relief, until it saw the light above it suddenly turn a distinct white-blue.
Flubber Butter the Whale Sailor hovered in the air for a moment before he began to fall.
The golem did not have features to make expressions nor a voice, but everyone could feel the resignation.
Crash!
Flubber Butter exploded in a giant tsunami of magic, crushing the titan from the sheer volume, washing away the few that were still left standing, and all of Winter’s elementals happily jumping in and being absorbed into the wave.
Winter was still laughing as she was hit by it and sent surfing a good distance away, images of the faces of all her elementals affectionately nuzzling their owner. The tide washed away and dissipated back into raw magic, leaving a wide-eyed, grinning Winter with her clothes soaked with residue, and her knuckles white from how hard she was gripping her new runeblade-and-dagger combination.
Abner, Weiss, and Penny frowned
“Err, Winter…?” Abner asked. “Are you alright…?”
No response, though the vitals still had signs of life.
“Oh dear...” Abner muttered. “Penny, prepare for immediate extraction!” he said as he readied the teleporter.
“At once, Maker Abner,” Penny replied, before she disappeared into the Raucous Room and began to examine Winter.
“Is she going to be alright…?” Weiss asked.
“Most likely!” Abner said. “It’s a very good thing she’s already used to the effects of magical exhaustion from the suit, though it’ll definitely be a much more unpleasant experience now that she can no longer rely on its life-support systems.”
“How did you get her out of it, anyway?”
Abner beamed. “By asking nicely and carefully!”
Weiss scowled.
“Okay, seriously: aside from the differences in materials and the modifications to the design to compensate for such, the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV is almost completely identical to the Exo-Armour technology the Fae originally developed.
“I recognized some of my own improvements to the design, actually.”
Weiss frowned. “Did the Fae give it to the Queensguard on purpose, or could someone have leaked it…?”
Abner shrugged. “We may never know! The Council may be far reaching, but it’s not omniscient, and we certainly can’t keep track of every last Fae in the realm—those in Celestion and wandering around independent in Sekhmet especially!
“Intentional leaks and internal subterfuge like with how the Heralds acquired their equipment do happen, but we can take comfort with the fact that we have control over the Valley, and they don’t.”
“Is this place your version of Candela, then?” Weiss asked.
“If by that, you mean it’s the both the youngest city state and on-track to becoming the largest with each generation, is the hub of technomagical advancement, and is about the most modernized, most advanced, and relatively pleasant place to live, then yes!
“Yes, we are certainly mirrors of each other.
“The key difference is that we humans were praying hard for some place like Candela, while the Fae wish this place would just magically disappear. Even a scientist like myself wonders if the costs and risk of the Valley are worth it...”
Their conversation was interrupted by Penny and Winter returning to the control room. The former wasn’t carrying the latter in her arms, but the way Winter was shaking, pale, and giggling quietly to herself was not encouraging.
Weiss noticed she was still holding her weapon, the dagger stashed inside the hilt of the saber. She looked at Abner and Penny, they both silently gave her the go-ahead, and she began to slowly, very carefully approach Winter.
“Hey Winter...” Weiss said. “That’s a really nice new runeblade you’ve got there!”
“IT IS!” Winter asked, raising it up. “THIS THING IS AMAZING! EVEN BETTER THAN THE MK. IV WHEN THEY FIRST PUT ME INTO IT! AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO STICK NEEDLES INTO MY SPINE THIS TIME!”
Weiss smiled uneasily. “Yeah, weaver foci are quite the trip! Now how about you let it go for now…?”
Winter frowned, then looked at her in a mix of confusion and worry. “But why would I do that…?”
Weiss opened her arms. “How are you going to hug me with those in your hands…?” she asked nervously.
Winter blinked, and dropped her sword. “Oh! Yes! Right! I might accidentally stab you with this and that would be BAD!” She let her runeblade clatter on the floor, before she tried to walk out to Weiss. “Come here, little sister!”
Penny gingerly let her go, they all watched as Winter managed three steps before she tripped and ended up on her knees.
Weiss rushed up to her. “Are you alright, Winter?” she asked as she held her up.
“I’m fine!” Winter cried. “Now get down here and let me hug you, Weiss~!” She paused “… Seriously, get down here, I can’t get up...”
Weiss did. To everyone’s relief, Winter didn’t end up crushing her any more than she usually could.
Winter burst into happy tears as she rested her chin on Weiss’ shoulder. “Oh, I missed you, little sister! I’m so glad I got captured and agreed to get out of my suit… even if I did bring you back, I’d never again be able to hug you like this without crushing all of your bones and internal organs!”
Weiss slowly, carefully hugged back. “That’s... great, Winter.”
Winter pulled away, and gently placed her hands on Weiss’ cheeks. “I still can’t believe I’ve got you back, Weiss...” she whispered. “All this time… I thought you were dead, then I thought you were a terrorist now and I’d have to kill you, and now we’re both working for a realm-wide conspiracy aimed at controlling and manipulating half of the species we belong to for their own selfish benefit!
“BUT IT’S ALL RIGHT BECAUSE WE’RE TOGETHER NOW! EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE YOU’RE DATING MY WORST NIGHTMARE BECAUSE WHO KNOWS IF THIS IS ALL AN ELABORATE RUSE MEANT TO FUCK WITH US, BUT STILL:
“WE’RE TOGETHER NOW!”
Weiss stared blankly at Winter.
She began to gently squish Weiss’ cheeks. “Your face… your face is so soft, Weiss...” she hummed, before she fell forward, unconscious.
Winter laid in one of Abner’s beds in the infirmary, on a vitae vine of mana water mixed with all manner of chemicals, but mostly sedatives. As she was temporarily incapable of doing anything but stare blankly up at the ceiling in a drug-induced haze, Weiss decided to examine her new gear.
She held the saber up, tested its impeccable weight and balance, unsheathed the dagger, and focused on how they felt in her hands. She could still feel the hum of her magic pouring into it and being amplified, but not nearly as strongly as Myrtenaster, and with a distinct difference to it that just made it feel off.
Rather like wearing hand-me downs that were much too large, and not as fashionable on you as it was for their previous owner, she thought.
“Are these antiques like mine?” Weiss asked.
“Oh, goodness, no!” Abner replied as he produced more alchemical concoctions for Winter. “Silsa and Freya are entirely creations of mine, and as you’ve probably guessed, have been christened by Winter. My sincerest apologies for any unpleasant memories that may have brought up.”
Weiss shrugged and reholstered Freya into Silsa’s hilt. “It’s fine; it’s been a long time since we both hit the last stage of grief,” she said as she put it back in a box by Winter’s bedside.
“But it never hurts to be careful, especially with such a touchy subject like death! Though I suppose it’s very ironic, all this coming from someone who’s been cheating it for the past 500 years or so...”
Weiss watched Abner work, saw his precise, efficient, and mechanical movements, wondered just how much of his body was still organic, if his consciousness wasn’t housed in a very life-like golem.
“Why did you make yourself immortal?” she asked.
Abner didn’t reply, working quietly with his burners, siphons, and evaporators. When the finished products were dripping or building up in their final containers, he turned around, walked over to Weiss, and sat down next to her, his spider limbs acting as a chair.
“If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have gone through with the procedure and happily joined Ily, my parents, and all my friends when nature dictated I should have….” he said with a far-off look in his eyes. “… However, I made a promise.”
“To Ilaya?”
Abner scowled. “No, to Blue, her mate. She died well before Ily was due, and with her last breaths, she asked me for one last favour. With thanks to my governor-chronicle, I remember her words clear as the day she said them:
“’Doc, there’s something about these Keepers—why they’re the way they are, why there’s only ever one of them at a time, why they need us humans and human-hybrids to keep ‘em going. There’s something out there, something big, that’s doing its damndest to keep us Human’s and Fae’s paths crossing, like someone’s playing the very long game, or is just trying again, over, over, and over again, until the Keepers finally do what it wants them to do.
“’I want you to find out what that is. And please: don’t stop until you find it.’”
“And you agreed?”
Abner sighed and nodded. “Yes, if only for Ily’s sake.
“Blue and I never got along—and why would we? We were inherently archnemeses, diametrically opposed, and destined to clash forever more: the most persistent and determined Valentinian Debt Collector at the time, vs the thorn in the entire organization’s side that was myself.
“Ilaya was about the only thing that brought us together, but even then, Blue originally conspired to turn my own best friend against me...” Abner spat, the disgust clear on his face.
“There’s a ‘terrible tale’ behind this, too?” Weiss asked.
“A very sordid story indeed...” Abner grumbled. “For some context, whereas I was the artful dodger that kept slipping my debtors’ grasp, Blue was my exact opposite, the most vicious, conniving, and determined bounty hunter you had ever seen! You could give her the flimsiest lead supported only by circumstance and gut feelings, and she’d be off like her target was already right in front of her and about to get away; give her a few months to a few years at the absolute worst, and she would have her target, or at least concrete closure for her employers and clients.
“It was why they nicknamed her that, you know, after an Old World cartoon: ‘Blue’s Clues.’
“Only instead of her being an adorable puppy leaving pawprints on objects for her owner to find, then figure out the common thread between them to know what it was exactly she wanted, she was a vicious human bloodhound who wouldn’t stop until she had her target—mysterious, all too convenient disappearances being her specialty.
“It was all a game to her, you see. A dangerous game filled with violence, blackmail, seduction, and subterfuge—whatever it took to catch her prey, damned the damage, the broken hearts, and the dead bodies she left in her wake.”
Weiss frowned uneasily. “She sounds terrifying.”
Abner shuddered. “She was! I’d never met someone more determined to stick her nose where other people most definitely did not want her to, nor someone who could find a way to infiltrate any place she damn well pleased, and show up at the most unexpected places when you least expected her to, at that!
“And this was BEFORE she learned how to blink and out of this realm of existence!”
Abner hung his head, put one of his humanoid hands to his face. “I still don’t know what in the realm Ilaya saw in her, but she had that Something she wanted, and I was forced to choose between an uneasy co-existence with Blue, or cut ties with Ily forever.”
He pulled off his hat and revealed a completely bald head, and deep wrinkles from stress that were usually hidden under the shade of the brim. “And this should likely tell you which option I chose,” he said as he put it back on.
Weiss nodded uneasily. “How did Blue react, learning that Ilaya was in love with her?”
“Positively delighted! Because now she had leverage, a potential tool she could use to bypass the Council’s numerous efforts to keep me safe and my own famed wiliness and evasive skills, to expose the lie that was my death, let the human territories take advantage of the Fae governor curbing my worst impulses for me, and the magitechnological advancements I have stored in my chronicle beside,” he tapped the back of his neck, where the two devices were.
“She used her…?!” Weiss asked, horrified.
“Gleefully and shamelessly! It almost worked, too, until Ily finally caught on. Make no mistake: I have tested her patience and faced her wrath numerous times before, especially during those first few months before my governor was installed.
“But the way she ripped into Blue that evening? The Bastion thought a legion of Soul Eaters had broken into the Hollow!
Abner smiled. “Watching Ily personally drag Blue to the Hollow’s Tube station, and send her rocketing off and out of our lives is one of the best moments of my life!” He frowned. “… Immediately followed by one the worst moments of my life, when Ilaya completely broke down before my eyes...”
Weiss frowned. “She still loved her, didn’t she…?”
Abner nodded. “That she did… it’s one of the many things with Keepers, something I’ve studied from records and my own personal observations: the moment they find someone, that’s it! No more interest in others, no more straying, and if they ever set their eyes on someone else, you can bet they have no intention of doing anything without the express and enthusiastic permission of their lover!
“It also seems as if the whole realm conspires to bring them together.”
“How, exactly?” Weiss asked.
“With Blue, she got stuck in the Tubes for several hours; I was the only one trusted to be able to fix the problem, and at the time, I had the much more urgent emergency of a heartbroken Keeper to attend to. With no way to escape her self-inflicted fate, an unpleasant death drowning in the aqueducts if she tried, and no new target and focus all her being on, she found herself left with no choice but to think, unable to run away from the things she had been dodging like I had been avoiding Valentinian debt collectors.
“And apparently, that was the few times in her life where she’d ever truly, genuinely felt regret for her actions—the very worst, in fact, now that she had realized just how badly she had fucked up, doing something so cruel to someone who had shown her nothing but love, honesty, and trust.
“Don’t assume this was the moment where the Tubes would magically fix themselves, send her to the Tree of Life station, and then after a brief moment to get her bearings, she’d rocket back to Keeper’s Hollow to tell Ilaya that she had learned the error of her ways, and then they’d kiss, and I’d be so moved by her first display of humanity that we’d stop fighting from that point on, and all of us would live happily ever after!
“No, the reality was far, far, far grimmer.
“It took several years for Blue to finally learn how to be and consistently act like a decent human being who didn’t treat others like assets and tools to be used for her own goals, and a few years more for Ilaya to warm back up to her. She was still very much infatuated with her but she wasn’t an idiot, nor would she be willing to let Blue get away with everything just because she was truly sorry.
“Even after Ily finally let her back into the house, they argued, they fought, and there were many more times when Ilaya dragged Blue right back to the Tubes and send her shooting on through—sometimes, Blue would preemptively do it herself and save her the trouble!
“And I must emphasize: Blue never did stop getting sick after every trip...”
Weiss cringed. “Sounds like a real rocky relationship...” she muttered.
“It was! Definitely not the ideal to which every couple should aspire to. But somehow, they still made it work, and that aside, the Keepers and their mates tend to be truly exceptional individuals, so it seems appropriate that their relationships would be the same.”
Abner smiled. “The Keepers are a real force of nature, don’t you know? As they protect the realm from Soul Eaters and other horrors, so do they tend to protect the Fae from themselves. It’s like they’re the humanoid embodiment of counter-balancing phenomenon in nature:
“You don’t lie about the exact numbers and fates of the humans that ‘don’t work out,’ they won’t personally lead an elaborate smuggling scheme that threatens to expose the big secret the Fae have been working so hard to keep.
“That was Samaria and Myala.”
“You promise to stay away from their personal lives and follow through on your word, they won’t jeopardize the future of the realm by finding all manner of new and interesting means of birth control, or just outright refusing to breed with their lovers.
“That was Reynault and Taliyah, and their adoptive daughter Moira, the first fully human Keeper of the Grove.
“You say you will do your damndest to keep this almost-drowned scientist delirious with diarrhea and dehydration alive, they won’t seriously jeopardize the safety and peace of the Valley by refusing to sign up for any hunts short of a Soul Eater attack to go visit said scientist in the hospital to make sure they don’t euthanize him while they’re gone.
Abner smiled. “As you could tell, that was myself and Ilaya.
“I’ll be honest with you, Weiss: relationships with Keepers are risky, dangerous, and oftentimes ill-advised—I’d be surprised if they weren’t, considering what they constantly choose to face and do on a regular basis are also risky, dangerous, and ill-advised! And though I have to say this is all totally anecdotal and subjective, all of their mates say it was all worth it.
“Kind of like your grandfather and your grandmother with their relationship, actually!”
Weiss sighed and looked down. “I’m not like them… either of them.”
Abner pointed at her. “True—but you are still their granddaughter.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Winter groaning.
“Oh, sweet Shepherd…!” she muttered. “What happened…?”
“Winter!” Weiss cried, running up to her side. “Are you okay?”
Winter shook her head, before she realized even that was too much effort. “What happened…? Last I remember was dreaming of storming a castle with an army of my plushies come to life, before a defector led me to where the Evil Wizard was keeping you captive...”
Abner chuckled as he stood back up on his two humanoid feet. “Well, it all went something like that...”
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mrbig90-blog1
Untitl
sergiomxlbc
Sergiomxlbc
jewishqweer
welcome
daebom
night crawling
ldcu-12-humss1a-group3mil
LDCU - 12 HUMSS 1A - Group 3 MIL