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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

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PROMPT

Che “Taza” Romero x Reader

@stardust1978 asked: I wanted to request a Dialogue Prompt #5 under Angst with Taza when you are taking requests again. Thank you :)

Prompt: “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away”.

Word Count: 2.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @arved 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Who said ‘ride or die’ for first time, surely he knew you, because ride is your life.

“Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?”

“She came from nowhere! I didn't see her!”

It wasn't true. Once your helmet is on, your motorbike and you are one. There's no difference, as if you got melted with it when you turn the engine. You know every single inch of Cali's asphalt. You know every traffic light, every signal, every road, every street, every city, every single driver. You didn't come from nowhere, but he was looking his phone when he crossed the corner's avenue. He didn't see you, that's true. But you came from Sunset Boulevard with Figeroa street. You was driving fast, as always, but respecting the limit.

You were lying on the ground, upside down, when you realized that you couldn't move your right leg. You couldn't even feel pain. As the orders of your brain reached the toes of the left foot, the right foot didn't respond. Nothing. Breathing fast, you were drowning into agonizing coughs. You're a nomad. You know every single bone of your anatomy. You know what's broken, you know what's fragmented and you know what's twisted. You're choking because of the blood filling your lungs, for a splintered rib. And only when you hear the sound of an ambulance sirens, you let yourself go.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hard headache is lashing your whole body, growling slightly whilst feeling some long fingers tangling into yours. You know their touch pretty well, you don't even need to open your eyes to confirm it. Those fingertips have traveled through your skin so many times you lost the count long time ago. They hold yours tightly, with a trembling and cracked lips kissing every one, every knuckle and the wrist. You're sleepy, coughing for a while and raising your free hand to your belly when a bitter twinge hits it. You don't need to ask where you are, 'cause you know it at the exact moment you notice your right leg immobilized hanging of the metal structure of the bed.

Feeling weak and decayed, you turn your face at him, opening your eyes so slowly. The man drags his chair a little bit closer, leaning above the hospital bed to leave some dearly kisses on your forehead while your free sleepy hands toured your stomach till reaching his nape. It's been a long time since you saw him in Santo Padre. And even if you think he betrayed you, Taza still being the most important person in your life. And he will always be.

You met him sixteen years ago in Santa Madre, when you were almost fifteen. You stole a loaf of bread. You didn't have family, nor money, nor a job. You were a child suffering the poverty of the Mexican border. And as a fallen angel from heaven, he found you. He was running away too.

He saved you and you saved him.

Taza taught you every single thing you know today. About animals, about guns, about motorbikes and mechanic, about how to be silent, about fighting. He welcomed you in his ranch, he gave you a family and he brought you back to life.

“What ha—happened?” You mutter feeling high because of the morphine.

“A guy missed a traffic light and hit you”. He says licking his lips, choosing the correct words.

“And wh—what happened to me?” His sigh is more painful that have every bone of your body broken.

“A rib pierced your left lung, but you're okay now, cariño”.

“And what abo—about my leg?”

The Mayan doesn't know how to tell you. Isn't that bad, actually. But riding is your life.

“Femur fracture”. He can't lie to you. At least, not a second time since you met.

You turn your neck and face to the opposite side, feeling awake suddenly. You know what it's means. Your eyes filled with tears and your heart racing. The sanitary machines starts to beep louder, claiming the attention of some nurses who come to try to control your pulse.

“I'm ok—okay! Fuckin' leave me!” You cry squeezing over the bed, while Taza tries to hug you.

“Sh, (Y/N). Calm down, calm down. Everything is gonna be fine. Sleep a little more...” He whispers on your eyes, watching sideway how a doctor inject a whitish liquid into the line connected to your wrist.

You let yourself go again, between Che's strong arms, making you feel as if you were at home again.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

He explained you that you fell with your knee slightly curled and that was why you broke it. Luckily, in Los Angeles didn't wait for transferred you to San Diego, to make the surgery necessary. After one day unconscious, they flew you in helicopter to Santo Padre. And even if Taza told you that you could walk again and drive your motorbike, you couldn't help but feel anxious, terrified and mournful.

It was one long month in the hospital, receiving visitors every day from Stockton, Charming, Tijuana, Mexico... Even from the charters of Connecticut and Pennsylvania. You didn't used to talk a lot, mostly some words and some sentences. You were submerged on a gloomy environment, crying all the time because of the pain and the rage of being bedridden. Taza slept with you every night, before complaining all day about his back hurting with Bishop and Tranq. But he would do anything for you. Anything.

After the high medical and all the information the doctors gave you for the home life and rehabilitation, you agreed with the idea of coming back to the ranch. Actually, Taza as the stubborn man he is and Bishop as the president of your charter, forced you. They didn't give you any options. So you just ‘agreed’. Your next six month were going to be summed in the first one to rest, the next four going two times per day to the hospital and the last one trying to walk by your own. Feeling pain and agony with every step until you can make it disappear, by following the recommendations.

You used to be laid on the bed with the blinds half down, holding tightly your black leather vest against your chest, feeling that it was your only hope to wake everyday. Of course, there are things in life worse than a femur fracture, but for you it was painful in a psychologically speaking way. The doctors recommended the crew and your friends to talk you about day-life, happy situations or whatever that didn't let you think about it, so you could avoid a depression and harmful thoughts. So when Mayans came to visit you at the ranch, sitting by a side of your bed or lying next to you, they were always trying make you laugh and talk. But you couldn't. You were like a scared child believing that the sheets were shields that protected you about any hurt.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Opening your eyes, rolling over the mattress, hearing some whispers outside of your room that won't let you sleep. Your heart race, getting up on your palms, when you can't find your vest on it. You look for it on the floor, behind the blankets, behind the pillows. Nothing. With a lot of effort you move your whole and heavy body to the wheelchair next to the bed, supporting your arms on it with a growl drowned in your throat. Rolling your fingers above the wheels faster than you can think, you go towards the door opening it loud and making it crash to the wall. Following the hallway to the living room, the voices stir anxiously. Tran and Gilly are blocking your gaze to the huge table, where you used to meet al the Mayans for a lunch, a dinner or an impromptu meeting.

“Look at you! You did it by yourself!” Angel is very proud, leaning towards you before your able to kick his crotch with your good leg, making him fall to the floor between whinings and sobs.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, karate kid!” Creeper holds your shoulders, while EZ press his hands on your tights and on your left leg, to avoid the fact that you hit them too.

“Where's my kutte?! What are you doin'?!” You shout with your eyes filled with tears, stirring to loosen from the grips.

“Cariño, calm down”. Then you hear his voice, appearance behind the big guys in front of you.

“You, fuckin' traitor! You're doin' it again! I fuckin' hate you, bastard!” You want to kill him, yelling full of rage while the tears run through your cheeks soaking the shirts.

“Fuck, (Y/N)! Calm yo' fuckin' self!” Angel growls trying to getting up from the floor.

“Bishop, please! I'll ride again! I'll soon”. Your cry gets louder seeing how the man is cutting a patch of your vest, between Tranq and Gilly, above the table. “It's the only thing I have! Please, don't!”

The president doesn't say a word knowing how much you're suffering and don't giving a shit about it. Riz leans close to you, slapping him when he tries to clean your tears.

“Don't fuckin' touch me!” You scream at him totally mad, squeezing on the wheelchair and trying to get up of it.

“Jesus Christ, calm down!” He says somewhat scared.

“I earned it! I did it! Please! Don't take it away!”

You feel like the air is leaving your lungs and your mouth when Bishop holds the kutte on air having a look of it, before starting to walk towards you. And when you're able to grab it, you do it holding it tightly on your chest, raising your gaze confused. He makes a soft move with his chin, pulling a way some inches the vest to see the new patch. The “nómada” one isn't there anymore, having been changed for “Miembro de honor”. Gasping not knowing exactly what to say, you hold it close again.

“It's the only thing I have...” You mutter with trembling lips.

“We know”. Bishop says bending down to leave a kiss on your forehead with a hand placed on your nape. “No one is gonna take it away, querida. But at least, I made you go out of your room”.

“Yea', the kick was worth it”. Angel says with a hoarse voice rubbing his crotch.

You can't help but smiling for first time after long months, when Creeper and EZ let you go. Riz helps you to wear it, putting it well on. It looks good on you, better than ever and you're starting to feel blissful again.

“We decided to have a day off, here with you. And we bought you free alcohol beer, so you can drink too”. EZ says almost singing, making you chuckle. “And pops' meat for the barbecue”.

Sounds good. Really good. So you nod without doubting pulling away some hair bristles behind your ears.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You can't remember when was the last time you had so much fun with your true family. Vicki came too with some of your friends and Letti, who turned out to be better than you expected, after Coco told you so much about her. And even if you didn't want the day to end, you were waiting for it, so you could be alone with Taza and tell him that you were sorry about what you said early morning.

After all the goodbyes, and the apache bringing you back to the inside, you turn at him with some effort on the wheelchair. Placing both hands on your lap and pursing your lips, your gaze travels looking his.

“I didn't me—”.

“It doesn't matter”. He interrupts you, passing you away to let his body fall down on the nearest sofa.

Turning again, you guides yourself to him, insisting about it.

“I'm sorry, Che”.

“God, forget it, (Y/N)”. Rolling his eyes, he lies his head against the back of the sofa.

“No, 'cause I know it hurt you. And it's not fair”. You continue, getting up of the chair to jump with the other leg by his side.

He doesn't say anything when you wrap his neck with both arms, hugging him. Taza only clicks his tongue, slicing a hand between your back and the sofa to put you closer, holding you against himself. Resting your face on his chest, closing your eyes, yes, it's feels like you're at home again.

“You know what?” You say almost in a whisper.

“What?”

“My heart tells me to kiss you, but my head tells me to walk away”. It's not a secret, but sounds like. And you're not ashamed of recognizing it.

“You can't walk, idiot”.

You chuckle shaking your head, raising it to him, touching his cheek with your nose.

“Don't leave me again, please”. He sighs rubbing his forehand. “I know I fucked up things with that... chick. But I truly love you and I'm gonna regret all my life for hurting you”.

“Just... give me some time”.

“The one you need, I could wait all my life”. Pressing his lips on yours in a smooth kiss, you travel one of your hand towards a side of his neck.

The love you feel for him has never disappear, not even when you tried so hard to hate him when you became a nomad just to run away from all the sorrow he provoked you three years ago, a winter cold night when you arrived of a two weeks travel with the Stockton charter. By that time, you were going through some trouble and each one had a different way of facing it, instead of remaining together.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been almost six month since the accident and everything has changed. Taza is driving his bike, with you by his back, towards the clubhouse. You called Bishop before to meet the crew on the front yard. You didn't tell him why, having a little surprise for them. So when you finally come and the guys are waiting you there, EZ is the one who notices that you're not carrying the crutches, drawing a big smile on his face and palming his brother's chest before pointing at you.

Taking off the helmet and giving it to Taza, proud-hearted of what are you going to do, you practically jump out of the motorbike. You can see every reaction on every face. They're happy and a little shocked when you put your right foot on the floor. You're walking without help. And even if you feel a little pain yet, there's nothing that could stop you now. You're like a child giving her first steps. Limping very slightly, you open both arms.

“What's up, guys?! Cat got your tongues?!” You laugh happily going towards them.

Bishop is the first one who holds you in his arms when you're close enough, laughing too for your feat.

“You did it, querida”. He says, and you're sure the president is about to cry.

“I told you!”

“Are you gonna kick me again, if I try to touch you, mi dulce?” Angel walks somewhat closer with a funny gesture on his face, before hugging him.

“The doc' said I could ride in two weeks, but I'm gonna wait another one, just in case”. You inform them, with Angel's left arm on your shoulders. “So, where's my bike?”

“Resting too”. Taza says then, kissing your cheek. “Waiting for you”.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #taza romero x reader #che taza romero x reader #taza romero imagine #taza romero

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shera-dnd · 4 years

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I Think I Love You

About a day later than I was planing, but it is finally here

Here is my gift for @taramacgay for the @sherawintergiftexchange

Their prompt was "Glitra - shit I think I like you" and you nerds better be sure I had a lot of fun writing this

This is a bit of a long one so it will be all under de read more link. Hope you guys enjoy this

Maybe it was the fear of death that had Catra’s heart racing, maybe it was the adrenaline that made the world slow down around her, maybe it was a sudden fear of being separated from the one ally she had in this cursed ship that made her grip Glimmer’s hand like this.

Lasers flew around them as they raced towards Mara’s ship; On one end of this corridor was freedom, on the other death, yet all that ran through Catra’s mind was how beautiful Glimmer looked as the fires of the exploding ship illuminated her face.

A hole had been blown open at the end of that corridor. Catra was grateful she wasn’t here when Prime’s ship was still outside Etheria’s atmosphere as she did not feel like taking a stroll in the cold nothingness of space. Beyond that hole, Mara’s ship awaited and on its entry ramp was Adora, her hand extended to catch them both. Catra had never been this happy to see Adora in her life.

They leapt towards the ramp, landing safely in Adora’s arms. It was over, they finally escaped, they were free. Catra hardly had any time to celebrate when she noticed a green beam of light flying towards Glimmer’s back and before she could even process what was happening she jumped in the way, taking the blast straight to the chest and in a moment the world went dark.

~~~

“I’m fine” Catra insisted, trying to get up from her uncomfortably soft bed “I’ve had worse”

“No, you’re not fine” Glimmer argued back, gently pushing Catra back down. It wasn’t nearly enough force to actually stop Catra, but she couldn’t find it in herself to push back against Glimmer, so she simply laid back down again. “Just rest, Catra”

“Whatever, Sparkles” Catra yielded, not wanting to upset the princess so soon after their great escape. “Shouldn’t you be out there with your friends, celebrating your return or whatever?”

“I’m spending time with a friend right now, aren’t I?” Glimmer answered, with a smile that made Catra’s heart race. What was Catra’s problem?

Ever since yesterday she had been feeling all weird around Glimmer. No, now that she thought about it she felt like that for a while, but only recently did it start getting intrusive like this. Now she couldn’t even touch Glimmer without getting distracted by how warm and soft she was and how much she wanted Glimmer to just hold her and- oh, Glimmer asked something she didn’t quite catch.

“What?” Catra asked, returning to reality.

“I asked if you were okay” Glimmer repeated “You didn’t say anything back and I got worried”

“I told you I’m fine,” Catra answered, perhaps a little more aggressively than she would have liked. “I just need some rest”

“Alright” Glimmer agreed, holding Catra’s hand for a moment before letting go - oh Catra did not want her to let go, ever - “I’ll let you get your rest then” Catra wished she didn’t feel this bad watching Glimmer go.

~~~

“This is ridiculous!” Catra protested, as Glimmer and Bow dragged her through the castle.

“Come on, Catra,” Bow insisted “don’t you wanna befriend all the other princesses?”

“Not really” She shrugged “I’m fine with being barely tolerated. I’m used to it by now”

“That may be how it worked in the Horde,” Glimmer argued “but in Bright Moon we all try to be friends”

“Sounds like too much effort” Catra joked “Can I go back to trying to kill you guys?” Glimmer shot her an annoyed glare. “Fine, I’ll do what you want” Catra conceded. It looked like ‘annoyed glares’ also had to be added to the ever growing list of things Glimmer did that got a rise out of Catra.

Catra was dragged into their war room and seated next to Adora. She gave Catra a tired look that seemed to say ‘they got you too?’ All the other princesses on the other hand seemed a lot more interested in what was about to happen. Catra was still unsure what they all gathered here for, but whatever that ‘bonding experience’ was she was pretty sure she was gonna hate it.

And she absolutely did, at first. All the princesses discussing their absolutely over the top and nonsensical ‘plans’ for defeating Horde Prime was extremely frustrating, but about half way through it all clicked. This was about the fantasy, about the perfect world where they could just magic Prime away, where they could all be great heroes in their own way.

Besides all that it was pretty fun to watch all the princesses different takes on her character. Some still saw her as some over the top villain begrudgingly helping them, some saw her as the hero she had the potential to be...and then there was Glimmer. Dresses were never Catra’s thing, but she would definitely consider wearing one if it got a reaction like that out of sparkles.

“Looks like it’s your turn, Catra” Adora said, handing Catra the weird paper screen thing they had been using.

“No no, I’m good just watching” Catra countered, getting ready to leave. She was not gonna take part in this

“Please” Adora asked, making puppy dog eyes.

“That is not gonna work on me, Adora” Catra declared

“Please!” Joined Glimmer and Bow

Catra sighed, grabbed that stupid screen and started narrating.

Tall dark buildings stretched in the horizon until they pierced the stormy clouds above, the only light that illuminated the world was the lightning above and the neon from the city bellow. Residing atop the tallest of these buildings was the tyrant that turned the world into this bleak dystopia, Horde Prime.

Sirens blared throughout the top floor of Prime’s spire, red warning lights illuminating every room and corridor as a battalion of clones mobilized, and at the heart of this chaos stood Catra, weaving and slashing through Prime’s defenses.

“Catra, retreat and wait for reinforcements” Bow called on her communicator “You can’t face Prime on your own”

“Please” Catra laughed as her augmented body effortlessly dodged around a hail of bullets “Prime should be the one running now”

“Catra, please-” He tried again

“Tell our friends to pick up the pace” She said, muting Bow “They wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun”

As soon as Catra opened the door to Prime’s office she was sent flying back into the corridor by a massive explosion. Prime had been waiting for her. She ran back towards him, leaping around to avoid the spray gunfire he unleashed upon her. She landed feet first on his chest and pushed him back into the office.

The battle that followed was long and bloody. Catra was fierce, fast, cunning, but Prime was stronger than she could’ve prepared for. Blow after blow he stayed standing and blow after blow Catra struggled to get back up. This was not a fight she could win alone and she had been a fool to believe so.

Prime approached her now that she couldn’t get up anymore, ready to get rid of her for good, but before he could do anything, a blast of colorful light sent him flying against the back wall. Reinforcements had arrived. Glimmer was here.

The princess confidently walked into the room and she was light and warmth and color, she was comfort and kindness and care, but she was fury, she was power and terror. She was beautiful and she was invincible.

“Is that how you see me?” Glimmer asked, blushing furiously

“What?” Shit, did Catra say all that outloud? She had to come up with something quick “No, I just thought you needed a little power trip after all that happened. Actually this whole game is just silly, let’s do something else” She hastily explained herself, getting up and dashing out of the room before anyone could stop her.

~~~

“Wildcat, can we talk?” Scorpia called, knocking on Catra’s door

“What do you want, Scorpia?” She asked, opening the door just a little

“It’s just that you’ve been such good friends with the queen lately and then you suddenly start avoiding her and acting weird around her and I just wanted to be sure you were doing okay” Scorpia explained. “Also I baked cookies” She continued, offering a plate of scorpion and cat shaped cookies. “Perfuma taught me!”

“I am not acting weird and I am not avoiding her. I am fine” Catra insisted, grabbing one of the cookies. She absolutely was avoiding Glimmer, but Scorpia didn’t have to know that. Catra took a bite of one of her cat shaped cookies. It was probably the best thing she had since they escaped Prime’s ship “You can stay here, but only until I’m done with the cookies.” Scorpia smiled at her, proud that Catra liked her cookies so much, and made her way into the room.

Catra’s room was modest, or at least as modest as a room in Bright Moon could ever be. She didn’t exactly have much in the way of decoration. In fact she even asked Glimmer to remove some excess, such as the overly soft bed that had now been replaced by a much more solid bunk. The waterfall had been removed as Catra complained that the constant sound was bound to drive her mad. What was left was a lot of open space for her to train and very few places for her and Scorpia to sit. Her bunk would have to do.

“So why were you avoiding the queen again?” Scorpia asked, completely ignoring Catra’s previous comment.

“I told you I’m not avoiding her” Catra repeated, grabbing another cookie.

“You know you can trust me, Catra” Scorpia insisted. “Just talk to me so I can help you through this” Catra groaned in response, flopping back onto the bed.Scorpia smiled at her, accepting this a sign of agreement.

“I’ve just been feeling weird around her, okay?” Catra admitted, grabbing the next cookie. “I kinda just rolled with it when we were stuck together. I mean, we only had each other back then and I couldn’t let something like that get in the way, but ever since we escaped I’ve just been feeling…” Catra trailed off, unsure of how to explain it.

“Anxious? Sweaty? Like your heart is gonna jump out of your throat? Like every second you spend away from her it’s a second you’ve wasted?” Scorpia eagerly offered, earning a suspicious look from Catra.

“How do you know?” Catra asked, wondering if the black garnet somehow made Scorpia a telepath.

“Aww, Catra, you’re in love!” Scorpia beamed

“Seriously? Me? In love with princess sparkles?” Catra couldn’t help but laugh

“I’m serious!” Scorpia defended “You should be more honest with yourself. Let yourself feel that stuff!”

“Alright, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you,” Catra apologized “but I’m not in love with Glimmer. I promise” She assured her. “Now go spend some time with flower princess, I’m sure she already misses you”

She got Scorpia out of the room before she could continue that uncomfortable line of questioning,. letting out a sigh of relief as soon as her door closed. Love? Scorpia must be out of her mind if she seriously believed Catra was in love with Glimmer.

Catra returned to her bed just to find that she forgot the plate of cookies there and it still had a cookie left. It was one of the cat shaped ones and it was covered in pink and purple sprinkles. That was kinda cute, she thought to herself, did this little cat have a little sparkly princess just like her?

Just like her?

“Shit!”

~~~

The war would not wait for her silly little drama. Prime still lived and while he did Etheria was in danger. Fighting him and protecting the people of their world was priority one, confessing her crush to Glimmer could wait. Catra was definitely not looking forward to that conversation.

The battlefield suited Catra better than the halls of Bright Moon. It was chaotic, it was dangerous, and it was just like her. It was strange that in this mess, where a single misstep could cost her her life, she had more peace of mind than while resting next to the girl she apparently loved. She could think about things from a removed perspective.

She was considering the best moment to bring this up to Glimmer, as she absent mindedly tossed a clone against another with her new whip. It was a gift from Glimmer, a replacement for the one she destroyed. It was obviously just a way to make her more effective in combat again, but part of her dared hope it was a sign of friendship or maybe even- No! A removed perspective, Catra, she thought to herself. You can’t let this distract you.

She shook her head, trying to get herself to focus again. But before she could process what was happening, a bright pink light surrounded her and next thing she knew she landed ass first on the ground. Glimmer landed on top of her, and the sickening smell of charred flesh assaulted her nostrils.

“I guess we’re even now” Glimmer joked through the pain, her voice strained. Catra was in shock, unsure of what to do.

“Glimmer, please stay with me” Catra pleaded, her voice cracking

“Heh” Glimmer chuckled, not completely there anymore “I like how my name sounds when you say it...”

“Glimmer, you idiot” Catra laughed, but tears filled her eyes. She didn’t even see the enemy forces approaching until something else blew them all up.

“I’ll take her to safety” Bow called, taking Glimmer away from her “Cover our way out!”

That she could do. She wiped away her tears, turned to face the approaching clones, and this time all she saw was red.

~~~

“Funny being on the other side of this” Glimmer joked, laying on her bed with Catra by her side.

“Funny? You nearly killed me” Catra complained, earning a giggle from Glimmer

“Last I checked I saved you” She argued, her smile constant even through the pain in her back “What even got you distracted like that?”

“It was nothing,” Catra deflected, looking away “it won’t happen again” It was her fault, if Catra hadn’t been so distracted none of this would happen. If Catra hadn’t opened the portal, if Catra fled with Adora, if Catra just- Glimmer hugged her, it felt warm and soft and Cata wished she could stay like that forever.

“It’s not your fault” Glimmer assured her “You just have a lot on your mind”

Glimmer was wrong, Catra only had one thing on her mind and it was her.

“Hey, I should be the one comforting you right now!” Catra argued, trying to sound confident. She failed.

“This is not my first time almost dying” Glimmer admitted, breaking the hug to look into Catra’s eyes “And I would do it again to save the people I… care for”

“When I pull that kind of shit it’s usually to make things worse for people” Catra confessed. Memories of the portal still haunted her nightmares.

“You’re better than that now” Glimmer reassured Catra, holding her hand “You saved me twice now”

“And I tried to kill you how many times before?” Catra argued. She did not deserve all this kindness.

“It doesn’t matter” Glimmer insisted “That is all in the past”

“Why are you so forgiving?” Catra asked weakly “After all I’ve done...”

“Because I messed it up too” Glimmer admitted “And if I can’t forgive you how can I hope for anyone to forgive me” Suddenly these last few weeks made so much sense to Catra. In a strange way they were each other’s roads to redemption, their path to happiness. Was this why she fell in love with Glimmer?

“Glimmer,” Catra called and the princess perked up, looking up at Catra’s eyes again. Was she looking at her lips before? That thought filled her with some more confidence for what she was about to do “Thank you for forgiving me” No, that was not what she wanted to say.

“Thank you for helping me forgive myself” Glimmer answered, showing a weaker side Catra hadn’t seen since their time in that cell. Glimmer leaned forward to hug her again, but Catra stopped her. She wanted to look her in the eyes when she said this.

“Glimmer, the reason why I’ve been so distracted lately and why I’ve been avoiding you,” Catra stopped to take a deep breath, she could do this “is because I’ve been having...feelings for you,” Catra mentally berated herself, how was she so bad at this? “and I’ve been afraid of those feelings. I’ve been afraid that you’d reject me and that rejection was all I deserved, but you’ve been so good to me and I just-”

“Catra.” Glimmer interrupted. That was it. Glimmer was gonna put an end to Catra’s bullshit, but at least she would have some closure. It was all she could ask for “May I kiss you?” The question caught Catra by surprise.

“What?” She asked, completely confused

“May I kiss you?” Glimmer repeated and only then Catra understood what just happened.

“Yes!” Catra wanted to play it cool, but her stupid heart no longer had any patience for that.

Glimmer leaned close again, their lips finally meeting and for the first time in months Catra finally relaxed, her fears and regrets melting away as she kissed Glimmer back and if she could do this for the rest of her life she would happily do so. When they finally broke apart Glimmer giggled.

“What?” Catra asked, with the brightest smile she had in ages.

“It’s nothing, I just,” She stopped, trying to calm down her laughter “I think I love you”

Catra kissed her again.

“I think I love you too”

#glitra #fic #shera #spop #glimmer #catra #gift exchange #she ra gift exchange

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shinglescat · 4 years

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h e n l o

…They stayed at their parents' for a week or two – it was impossible to tell exactly how long with the speed at which time had passed. It wasn't all that boring stay, pretty much entertaining and relaxing, with every familiar face around, though eventually Meltem and Visenya left them for a few days to enjoy themselves in private, away from anyone, to embrace their newly changed status; to discover a different side to each other.

The town hadn't really changed much since he last saw it, even with the civil war right at its doorstep. The folk here lived their own lives, as if there wasn't a threat from the stormcloaks or awoken dragons, carrying on with their daily chores, not looking far into the future to enjoy what time they had left. It was a change after thief ridden Riften, where everything and everyone wanted to rob you of your gold, Mara’s temple being the only beacon in the sea of vile that was that city. Still, under Laila’s hand and her constant attempts at bringing the thieves down it wasn’t as bad as it could have be with Maven’s power and ties to imperials. Kynthara, being the imperial soldier, told them, that should the city get into the hands of the Empire, Maven was the first and the last candidate to replace Laila.

– Haven't seen you in a while, boy, – he heard an elderly voice, – Where have you been? – Eorlund Gray-Mane was standing behind him, carrying a few scrolls in his arms, with orders possibly.

Frankly, everyone in the city knew about his heritage, and surprisingly the nords have been very sympathetic towards him, even despite him being the grandson of one of the commanding Thalmor officers. They had to meet with Balgruuf first, though, as no newcomer could live inside the city without visiting the jarl first for the sake of security. The nord already knew Narandil – he was of a great service to him, and had acquired the title of Thane for his deeds – but the kid he brought had at the very least questionable past, and the man couldn’t afford anyone raiding the city just to get the boy back. The old elf had to swear a hundred of oaths before Balgruuf would cave in and welcome the new citizen of Whiterun, with only one condition – everyone must know everything about the kid to judge him themselves should the threat arise. It surprised Narandil as much as his foster parents that nords took him in without any grudge, treating the child as their own, Gray-Manes saying that the color of his skin or the shape of his ears don’t really matter, for they don’t define who he actually is.

– Hello, Eorlund, – Mark greeted him, turning around to face him, – Riften, but... we do travel a lot. Finally visiting my parents, and it's good to see familiar faces.

The nord let a dry laugh out.

– Aye, bet it is, – he patted the elf on his shoulders, – Why don't we chat over at the Skyforge, eh? You must miss her, – the man laughed again, – Remember you used to help me around?

The elf cringed at the memories, moving along with Eorlund.

– Yep, – he popped the 'p', arching his eyebrows, – And I almost burned that girl to ashes. Please don't remind me ever again, – he muttered quickly, following the man over to the smithy. Apparently, the man still remembered that day clearly to tease him about it like that, still, after all the years. Mark felt sorry for that girl, showing her interest in the kid just to be nearly burned with the burst of flames.

They climbed to the top, the elf getting comfortable on the edge of the forge, as the days were shorter, the winter nearing, and cold getting through the clothes. The heat radiating from it was enough to keep him warm, even making him sleepy.

He’s been watching the man sharpen the swords for a while now, chatting about random things, ranging from the impending doom of the civil war and stormcloak uprising, to the neutrality of Balgruuf, to the talks of dragons flying around and the lives of each other.

– Eorlund, – he called the man after a moment of silence, – Are you still doing jewelry? – Mark asked out of blue, still sitting at the edge of Skyforge.

– Aye, – the nord replied, shifting his attention towards him, – Fralia sells them at the market.

The elf hesitated, playing with the hem of his coat, feeling a little bit too boyish for his comfort.

– Eh, could you make some for me? – The Gray-Mane let out a husky laugh, nodding with his head, – I'd love a couple of diamond earrings in blackened silver, and, – he checked his pockets haphazardly, getting out a thin piece of paper, unfolding it and showing the design to the master, – and a single ring of the same style.

Eorlund fell silent for a moment, studying the drawing.

– Return here in a couple of day, this time, everything will be ready, – the man confirmed the request, going over at the chest with materials.

– How much is this going to cost? Eorlund? – Mark walked towards the man, bowing near his back to look at him.

– Huh? Depends on how much diamonds I will have to use – the Gray-Mane unbent his spine, patting the kid on his shoulder, – Don't look at me all pup-eyes, boy. I could give you a hefty discount though, if you helped me around the smithy for the weekend.

– You can count on me, Eorlund, – he grinned, not noticing how he bounced on his tippy toes.

***

The elf had spent the entire weekend working at the forge, deadly tired by the end of the second day, barely making it into the bed, filthy, covered in sweat, metal and cinders, smelling like fire and blood. Mark could tell why Eorlund offered him that huge discount in exchange for his services, and why he found him roaming the streets in the first place: the order the man had to complete in a couple of days really required another pair of helping hands to made it through. He even considered giving up at some point, willing to pay the full price, persevering in the end. He couldn’t care about washing his face at the end of the day, falling onto the new sheets as is, turning them coal black; before falling asleep however, he didn’t miss the opportunity of a small mischief, gently painting a black stache above the upper lip of Aspen trying not to wake the man up.

The next morning came crushing hard, with the body hurting everywhere he didn’t know it could hurt. Ignoring the calls from Kynthara to join the breakfast, which smelled absolutely mouthwatering – the mother made the stew he loved so bad – he instead hobbled to the baths, opting on spending half a day in the hot water. He scared his parents though, being covered head to toe in coal. Good thing the clothes he had weren’t his though.

After getting the so needed bath and taking his time in the hot water, he made his way up to the Skyforge again, to get his order and to never look back at all the weapons they had made. The jewelry looked beautiful, even better than he anticipated, with the stark diamonds playing on the blackened metal of silver. The other guy is definitely going to love them, Mark thought to himself, making his way back home, happy smile across his face.

The house was already empty, with parents gone to their own respective business: Kynthara was gone to the barracks, having to train the recruits for the city guard; Pantigion gone to Jorrvaskr, tasked with their financial affairs and actual management. The man he was looking for, however, still inside, tinkering with something near the table.

– Hey, – elf called, walking up close him, – I’ve something for you. Come here.

Aspen looked at him, rising a brow in question, yet coming up to Mark, leaving everything behind.

– What is it?

– Here, – Mark opened his palm, the earrings hot from the warmth of his hand, – Bend down, for fuck's sake, – the elf was already standing on his tippy toes, trying to reach the man’s ear. The damn height difference, the kid thought, the guy was taller than anyone he ever knew. He had a hard time hanging a new set of jewelry on him, – Don't you dare to fucking move if you value your nuts, – the guy followed his command and bent a little forward, allowing Mark a better access to the ear. The threats always worked in his favor, he smirked.

– Maybe it is better to lift you instead? – well, not always, since the subject in question was still cocky about it.

– Shush, – the locks on the earrings clicked, and Aspen winced in pain, Mark's face glowing with pleasure, bathing in the discomfort of the other, – Don't tell me it hurts this much, you've all kinds of decorations all over your body, – the kid moved a few steps backwards, admiring the thing he's done – the blackened metal played nicely with myriads of small shining diamonds, and both earrings went well with the piercings the man had, – Suits you well, – he grinned.

The man crossed arms on his chest.

– So, whom did you murder for all these? – he motioned his head at the ring that elf was trying to put on his finger, still eyeing the earrings. The jewelry set was pretty expensive, given both earrings and the ring Mark had for himself were littered with tiny, or not so tiny, flawless diamonds – not a single soul in Skyrim could boast with anything even remotely like that. Then again, he probably didn't murder anyone for these.

– Don't.., – Mark started, raising his index finger, pouting, the ring still in the palm of his hand, – You're the murderer here, and I've commissioned Eorlund Gray-Mane to make these, – and under his breath, quietly, – Both cost a fortune, ugh, and the sleepless weekend, – and in a higher voice, – but they do look pretty!

Aspen grunted to the word.

– They do look pretty. Did not know you had it in you – appreciating jewelry of all things, – his voice leaked with sarcasm, – Thought you called them useless girly trinkets, – he motioned with his finger, asking the kid to move closer.

He couldn't help but let out a groan.

– But they are useless girly trinkets, still! – Mark let out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. The man opened elf's hand, getting the ring from it, placing it on Mark's finger himself, – Ungrateful asshole, – the kid muttered quietly. The blush creeped on his face quickly, turning his face red, flustered; the kid was awkwardly holding his breath, all of a sudden forgetting how to breathe in a normal way – these little "soapy" things will be the death of him, he thought.

– You can breathe now, – he heard near his ear, obscenely gasping for the air. He probably won't ever get used to this, both teasing and not teasing.

***

It was the prettiest thing he had ever gotten himself, and now it also had a sort of sentimental value? It didn’t mean anything; it had no hidden meaning or message, like of the gemstones resembled the stars on the frosty Skyrim nights, or the silver metal had ties to the Sorano-family colors. Nope, it was just a design he had come up with himself the other night, the urge to have it physically almost killing him from the inside. And now it was gone.

He searched through his bearings, then switched to wooden planks of his room – the ring could’ve rolled there pretty easily – no sign of it anywhere in the house. It was impossible that someone took it, it couldn’t fit anyone else given the size of his fingers, yet maybe-maybe someone borrowed it in the end? Like his mother, to show her friends her son’s trinket. Mark left the house, heartbeat too evident in his ears, blood rushing through the veins. He felt anxiety going up his gut, hurting him physically. He shouldn’t’ve removed it and left unsupervised.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed a glint higher up the walkway. He still had hopes of finding it, so might as well check that out, he told himself, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves nervously. Right, the girls had returned, too, but he had no occasion to brag about the new jewelry he got for himself and the other man. They were both there, laughing and giggling at something; the aforementioned man with them, face plain as always. Gods, he’d be lying if he said he missed them, her to be specifically. The elf got closer, noticing something painfully familiar on Visenya’s finger, dangling on it loosely, not fit for her size.

– … prettier than what we’ve got ourselves, – he heard her tell Meltem with a smile on her lips, – Ah-ah, no touchy-touchy, – Visenya slapped Aspen’s hand, turning away from him – he’s been too annoying for her taste, trying to get the hold of the jewelry, – Wonder how much a blacksmith would charge to size it down.

– He will not like it if he sees you with it, – the man told her, trying to get it off her finger again.

– Oh, mind you, he doesn’t even like jewelry, – she replied in a condescending tone, slapping his hand again, harder this time, leaving a red bruise across the pale skin, – Even if he bought something shiny for you, doesn’t mean he all of a sudden loves shiny himself, – the girl stuck the tongue out, winking at him, – I know he got it for me, too bad he doesn’t remember my finger size it…

– Visenya! – the girl didn’t get to finish the sentence, as Mark appeared right by her side, trying to grab her hand, but failing miserably as she made a step back, allowing him to fall forward, following the momentum.

– Oh, thanks for the ring! I was so surprised to see it, such a nice wedding gift from you! – he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not; if it was a joke, the sarcasm wasn’t noticeable at all.

– You have to be jesting, – the elf straightened up, disbelief on his face, – It’s not a gift for you, for fuck’s sake, give it back! – one more lunge, but she pulled aside, avoiding Mark’s hands.

She glanced at him, bewildered; then her expression changed, smirk crawling up her face.

– Oh! That was a surprise! Oh, I’m so sorry I spoiled it! – she smiled innocently at him, taking the ring off of her finger, still not allowing the kid to get it back, – But anyways, it’s a great present!

– It’s not a goddamn wedding gift, you, brat, it’s my ring, – the elf muttered in frustration through the clenched teeth, trying to control the rage forming inside him. It was the usual: Visenya took his toys, and never, ever, returned them back, for some reason finding them better than the ones she had herself, even if they were identical. And she loved to mess with them, damaging beyond any repair, enjoying being the elder sibling.

She was displaying the ring in between her thumb and her index finger, standing like a triumphant she is, with a glint of confusion in her eyes. How could he say it wasn’t a gift, yet it was so pretty, more suitable for a perfect girl like herself? A man passed by her, way not too gentle brushing with his shoulder against her, the impact making the fingers slip and let the ring freely fall to the cobblestone; the three too late to notice the slip, as the ring already bounced off the stone and made its way down the street and to the gates. It happened in a snap, as a Battle-Born man stepped right over it with his steel boots, crushing the stones and bending the metal, way beyond repair.

The kid grabbed the girl by the throat in a blink of an eye, squeezing hard, facial expression unreadable, void of any emotion. There was fire in his eyes though, fury and rage, suddenly way too bright not too notice, everything he had carried so far in himself bursting open at a single person, washing over him, making him lose control. It was fast, beyond anyone’s capability to register what was about to happen. Visenya squirmed, gasping for the air like a fish stranded on a shore, trying to pry the tenacious grip of Mark's fingers off of her neck, slowly losing it, her vision fading to black. Someone else tried to pry his fingers open then – he may be feeble, yet he has a grip of an attack dog – with no luck, to which he only growled, seemingly unaware of his actions, tunnel vision keeping him fixated on the quickly whitening face, until someone's hand collided with his cheek, the smack so loud and painful, making him return to his senses. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to hurt her bad.

Visenya fell on the cobblestone with all her four, breathing loudly, checking her neck with her hands as if it was injured once again. Mark looked at her, his eyes unseeing, rage and fury still burning in his chest, as he realized what did just happen. Meltem already dropped to her knees, mouth agape, as she checked the almost strangled girl for any external injuries; Aspen was rubbing the palm of his hand, skin red from the hit. Elf’s gaze shifted at the girl again, flames igniting in his chest tenfold.

– Fuck you, – he said to no one in particular, feeling of unjust heavy within him; quickly pacing towards the city gates. He heard Meltem tell someone to follow him, but he didn't look back. He didn't feel any remorse. He had enough.

***

No one did follow him, probably thinking he needed some time alone. Yes, he definitely needed some time alone, probably more than millennia of time to get over it. The brat had it coming – she got what she deserved. Would probably be better if he strangled her right then and then, the image of her life fading felt more satisfying. Yet somehow letting her go felt better, not in a sense he let her live because she is his sister after all, or that he felt pity killing her, but in a way that she got her punishment, and the next time she crosses his path – it will be way more severe than the last time.

He jumped of a crate, moving closer to his horse. That merc he hired to assist them should be here soon, and he needs to get his bearings together for their journey to the Sea of Ghosts. He should've stuck to using mercenaries instead of a group of fucking relatives – less headaches that way, and mercs are not interested in anything else but their pay, so that could be more beneficial to him.

A strong shiver ran though him, making him shake and tremble as if it was too cold outside suddenly, his teeth chattering. The feeling of emptiness replaced his anger and rage as the adrenaline production stopped in his body, leaving him sad, feeling broken and alone. He checked the saddle on more time, pulling on the straps to see if they were holding the thing together, then moved back to the crate, seating back in his place with his legs pressed to his chest. Mark tried to relax, breathing in and out slowly, to will the feeling to go away, but it did not want to let go. He sighed, muttering something under his breath, instead humming a sad melody he heard once, but this time – it didn’t help, making him want to cry it, scream it at the top of his lungs, so loud so everything that was bothering him would just depart from the inside.

– Whatcha singin'? – he was startled by a familiar voice near him. Well, that was something new: he usually was the most paranoid one, always on the high alert, but this time he let his guard down, allowing someone to sneak up on him, – Hey babe, you okay? – Mark sighed, looking over at the mercenary. The guy had an artificial arm made of something unnatural, this time covered by a thick fur coat, his hand poking out of the sleeve – the elf hasn’t seen a prosthetic like that anywhere. The man’s eyes were of vibrant blue, glowing in the shadows, irises too unnatural, hell, whites too, too bright and without the capillaries. The face was a little bit off, looking excessively… pretty, for someone of his kind of job – the dude definitely took care of his looks.

– Just fuck off, James, – he jumped of the crate to mount his horse instead, – You're ready or what? – Mark led his horse to the entrance, exiting the stables. The sooner they depart – they sooner they will be far away, and the sooner they will get his cousin out of whatever place she’s been kept prisoner. He couldn’t help but throw a quick glance back at the city entrance though, noticing two figures running towards them right away. That made the kid groan in frustration, he didn’t want to deal with anyone of them at the moment.

– Always ready for you, babe, – the mercenary winked at him, mounting his horse, following the elf that was waiting for him on the road.

– Babe? – a female voice asked, concerned in the guy's pet names, making them both turn their heads to the sound of it. The merc took his goddamn sweet time coming here, for sure, stalling them both to allow the others to catch up with them. Meltem was way beyond being angry, Aspen besides her had a pissed look on his face himself – a big change for his facial expressions, Mark thought to himself.

– Look at you, dayum, – James whistled at the woman, eyeing her breasts without any shame. The woman cocked her brow at that, rolling her eyes.

– For fuck's sake, James! – Mark had to shout at the mercenary to get his attention back. Alright, maybe sticking up with mercs wasn't such a great idea, but this guy here was good at trailblazing and pathfinding, and he could put up with him flirting with everything on two legs for the time being. He still could punch him if he annoyed him too much, – Shove the flirt up your ass!

– Everything for you, sweetpea, – he snorted in amusement, watching the pair with the corners of his eyes – the pet names seemed to universally enrage everyone, bringing way too much joy for the mercenary, – Let's roll?

– Yeah, – Mark nodded, trying his best to ignore his companions, until the ashen haired man grabbed him by his ankle as if about to drag him off his saddle, grip way too strong to shake it off. The elf sighed, rolling the eyes, before snapping, – What?! – he was unpleasantly surprised by the bark he let out, and judging by the faces of everyone around him – that didn’t escape their notice.

– Just don’t do what you may regret later, – with that the hand on his ankle let him go.

Mark let himself laugh hysterically.

– Read my lips, – he addressed both his friends, leaning over from the saddle, – You can go fuck yourselves, – Mark spat taking off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. It hurt that they didn’t follow them or tried to stop him despite what he told himself – that it’s going to be better this way; they let him go away with a complete stranger instead.

***

– So what's with the murder on your face? – the merc asked after days of silence. He didn’t seem to be concerned, really, but he was pretty chattery, and apparently just had a hope for a small talk, – Not that I'm against of murder, but as far as I remember it's a rescue mission.

He made the elf roll his eyes. The man just couldn’t keep his mouth shut despite Mark’s orders and pleas.

– Bought an expensive ring for myself, – he told the mercenary with a heavy sigh, deciding on indulging the man, – sister found it, obviously, thought it was meant for her, never mind the size, – Mark looked at the sea, ever so cold, – Destroyed it in the end. So, I nearly strangled her, – the elf shared, voice blank as it was the usual business.

– Strangled her? Your own fucking sister? – James asked again with disbelief, – Sucks to be you, man. Did she do it on purpose?

– Yes, almost strangled her. Did you saw their faces? They literally wanted to whip my ass, – he stopped the horse near a broken tree, brought here by the mighty winds it seemed: there was an old boat, stranded in the shallow water, bobbing gently with the waves. It was cold this close to the open sea: soft breeze before the storm getting through the layers of clothes and under the skin; the promise of blizzard lingering in the air, as the air currents were driving dark snowy clouds forth from the north, the seam between the sea and the sky invisible in the thick veil already. Mark shuddered, hiding his head deeper into the furs. And no barrier all around to protect them from the storm, – No, don't think so, she just wanted to mess with it and with me, and she has arms growing out of her ass, – he closed his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to fight the frustration rising in his chest again.

– Nah, I saw something else, – the merc dismounted his steed, grinning with his white teeth. He made a weird gesture with both hands, showing something round in front of him, rhythmically moving them up and down next. The breast size of Meltem, exaggerated. The kid groaned, – By the way, – he asked in a small voice, conspiratorially bowing closer to the elf, – Is she with that creepy guy? Would be a shame, 'cause dayum those..., – he showed the breasts again, bouncing on his soles, his hands moving up and down under the imaginary gravity. Mark wanted to ignore that, doing his best, before slipping a smile, and bursting into a hearty laugh, mood lightening up.

– She'd murder you if you were in her immediate vicinity, she's not into dudes, – he couldn't help but smile against his own volition at the way the man portrayed a caricature of his friend.

James straightened up, pointing a finger at the elf, victory written in his face.

– Aha, thought you're not as shitty as you seem to be, – he rounded the kid, throwing his arm around elf's shoulders, – Right, babe?

Mark pushed the guy right into the boat as they were nearing it. The man let out a strangles moan, landing on the damp wood with his face.

– You’re rowing, darling, – he added with sarcasm, noting another disappointed moan as the man tried to get up, grabbing the paddles. Mark was just in time for the merc to recover and use the paddle to push from the shallows and into the sea, to the lone castle far away, completely covered in mist that hid it from everyone’s view.

– So, you didn't tell me if she's single, – James groaned painfully, as he had to move the weighty paddles, – Fuck, must’ve fallen on my rips.

– Not anymore, she's my sister's official wife, or husband, I dunno, for a few weeks already. Spoiled brat, – he cursed under his breath, shivering with the each blow of the northern wind.

– Well then, what can be better than two girls making out, am I right, especially if they're joined by a strong man? – he wiggled his eyebrows, laughing at the "ew" sound Mark made as well as his facial expression.

The man conveniently slipped into a current, making it easier for him to row the boat to the castle. It spread for quite the distance, starting just a few miles away from the shore and ending almost at the castle’s doorstep. But the chilling winds of sea – that was something to endure. The merc seemed to be okay, being completely covered in furs and generating heat by piloting the boat, yet for the already sea sick elf it was hell incarnate, being too nauseous from the constant bobbing on the high waves and cold as the result of being sick. The river boating was a far cry from the same, but in an open sea, with waves throwing them up and down. And by the end of the travel he looked rather pale than usual, wishing to just lay on the ground and die. However, the mercenary had the other plans, practically manhandling the kid right to the secret shipyard at the back of the castle.

They were met with a certain resistance from undead forces guarding the place. They had to fight their way through before they could enter the castle, and then it was James's job, again, to get them up to the tower in one piece, unnoticed by any force. He had to stop them in dark lone corners every once in a while to check on the map Meltem stole from the embassy – the route discovered by a thalmor infiltrator; the map claimed to be wary of living statues and dozens of undead, however, the portal room deemed to be safe. But traversing through the portal was another story. It wasn't all that hard for them to reach the laboratory, and Mark was kinda grateful to the man with him for doing all the stealth job himself. It was a miracle they didn't trigger anything, nor stumbled upon walking skeletons. But he couldn't help but think about his friends once again – they would gather all kinds of nasties if they went all together.

– Hey, – James closed the door to the laboratory himself, leaning against it and sliding to the floor, – How about a few hours of rest? My body is killing me, – he sighed, getting off the floor and changing his rest location to a carpet he noticed a little bit further into the room.

– Sure, wouldn't mind that, – Mark plopped near the guy himself, a few paper rolls in his hands as well as a couple of tree twigs he found lying around the place, dumping everything in a couple of feet away from them and hoping he won't blow the thing apart with his magic. His hands lit up, flames dancing between the fingers, and he carefully fired up the paper, trying his best to keep himself in control. The paper caught the flames, and elf gently placed it back into the pile, spreading the fire to the other things in his makeshift campfire. He could've used the fireplace instead, but James advised against that, mentioning the vampires living in here, and that they don't want any more unwelcomed guests, and smoke from the fireplace would definitely alert the residents of the castle.

Mark reached his hands to the fire, warming up his frozen hands, the heat from the flames finally allowing him to bend the joints of the fingers properly. The mercenary moved closer, reaching his good hand to the fire too, the other – artificial one – still somewhere behind him.

– So, what are we doing? That books of yours, or not so yours, says we need to be either undead or bind ourselves to a soul gem, whatever that means? – James looked at the elf in question, then glanced at the staircase leading to the portal, a violet glow seeping through.

– I... don't know. I've two scrolls that can... bind souls? but a part of a soul? I'm kind of afraid to use it too, – Mark retrieved the scrolls from somewhere beneath his coat, handing them to the man, – You should do it, unless you want me to blow up this place. I'm bad in magic department, like really bad.

The merc snickered.

– Yeah, I heard about some "criminal" blowing up the thalmor embassy, – James winked at him, waggling his eyebrows, – I need to pee, be right back, – he said, getting on his feet and going in the corner near the door.

– Ew, you know... Actually never mind, I need to pee too, – the elf raised from the floor too, instead moving to the door leading to the balcony, – But unlike you I'm going to do it over the railing at the balcony.

The guy that already had unzipped his pants, zipped them back.

– Want to make our presence known with some yellow snow? I'm in, – the man grinned.

Before switching their attention to the glowing with violet portal, they had a couple of hours of rest, to get their strength back for traversing to the other side, with unknown waiting for them. Mark couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to what had happened a few days ago, with him and his sister, what she and the others thought of him. Now with the time that had passed since the event, he actually felt sorry for losing control like that, for almost strangling her, for telling his companions to go fuck themselves, for all the thoughts that he had in regards to Visenya. But he was still pissed at her for destroying something he worked hard for – the only pretty shiny ring that he ever got for himself, and the amount of money he put to get it. He shouldn't’ve lost control. But he saw red, blacked out until Aspen slapped him across his face. He used to have those black outs before. It was just as if his body was operating on an autopilot, yet he himself gave commands to it, fully aware of his actions; however, it always seemed like his entire self had a switch somewhere deep inside him that... changed him like that. His first... victim, victims... were some kids that made fun of him, calling him a half-blood, back on Alinor. They were lucky Esmir was nearby, successfully stopping her very young grandson from murdering the other kids. He still remembered the look on her face, something between being proud and being afraid, yet she didn't let that known. Instead of punishing him for the outburst, she had her physician check on him, and after that assigned a trainer to him to keep him in check. The other was Orlan: the bosmer was way too violent with the kid, and Mark couldn't stand that any longer, jumping at the man in a snap, aiming at his face. He bit the tip of his ear off and tried to claw his eyes out, leaving three long scars across the face. It was a miracle the bosmer was saved at all... He was humiliated, scars serving a bitter reminder; even if he says he got those form an especially vicious dog he had to train once, in reality it was just a boy that had enough. There were others too, all way too lucky to be saved by Orlan that was appointed by Esmir to guard the kid from anyone, or rather anyone from the kid. Guess all the skills he had learned from the countless hounds trained helped him to keep Mark in control.

– Yo, kid, you're awake? – the merc dropped near him, checking if he was sleeping or not.

– Not anymore, no, – he shook his head, getting to his feet slowly, – Should we head out? – it sounded a little bit more uncertain than he would've liked.

– Yeah, can't stall this forever, – James headed upstairs, to the staircase leading to the portal. He read the scrolls once again, preparing, before casting a spell on himself, a soul gem in his pocket slightly shining, – Come here, your turn! – he called for Mark, watching the kid, nervous, stand before him, awaiting for the inevitable soul bind; the merc reading the scroll aloud, – The shit didn't work, – cursing, the merc tried again, as the elf closed eyes, as if expecting a jolt of pain or a hit, – Fuck, the hell doesn't it work?

Mark pried one eye open.

– Stop messing around, just hit me with the spell, – he pleaded, and the man tried to do so again, only to find the spell fail one more time.

– I surely do this right, but the thing doesn't work with you, – James looked over at the scroll and at the soul gem the elf was holding – it seemed like Mark's soul just refused to be bound, let alone to be torn apart. Maybe the soul gem was filled? Can't be, it seems to be empty. Still, he handed the elf another one from the enchanting table, and a dozen of others they found lying around the room, – Hey, it may sound a bit weird, but maybe you could try to pass through the portal as is? Something tells me...

– I'm not gonna pay you if I die to a portal sucking me off.

The man laughed aloud, slapping a hand on his thigh.

– I'd actually pay myself to see a portal sucking off someone.

– You're disgusting, – the elf smiled, actually getting ready to traverse through as is.

– I'm not getting you our if it starts sucking on you, just a warning. I'm a pervert, and I want to see it, – but contrary to his words, James grabbed a fistful of Mark's coat and followed him into the portal, violet light engulfing them both.

They stepped out of the portal on the other side. A barren wasteland lied there with topless black towers dominating over the gray sand. A whirlwind of colors danced above the desert.

– Fuck me, this is the fucking Soul Cairn, – James muttered, looking all over the place, – How didn't I put one and two together earlier? Shit.

– What's the matter?

The place looked familiar somehow, but elf couldn't tell what exactly was that. He's never been here, never seen anything like it, yet the colors, noises, wind; the ambiance was pretty... recognizable, if only he could place a finger at...

– ... Mission control to the knife ear, come in, – James poked elf's sides, making him stop spacing out.

– Yeah, yeah, what? Sure, – he shook his head, – Just... weird place.

– Yep, – the human popped the p, looking around, – As I was saying, this place is a fucking mess, and if I knew you were to drag me here, I'd tell you to fuck off. Oh, by the way, have you ever had a near death experience?

– You talk a lot, – Mark squinted at him, – Nope, never had anything like that.

– Then how the hell were you able to get here? Anyways, despite how much I want you to take your time, and I must absolutely remind you that I, your handsome mercenary, take pay per hour, we should get going. It's too weird in here for me. Also dangerous. Oh, and we should get that piece of my soul back, too.

The elf didn't reply, instead focused on the map he grabbed from the man. Shit, the guy talked too much. Livaen was here somewhere, far from the entrance, as much as he could tell from the writings. That journal with the map in it said she was kept in a castle of sorts, and it won't be an easy thing to miss once they head deeper in the place.

James also turned out to be way too smart and skillful than Mark initially anticipated. The guy had a talent for avoiding ambushes and walking undead. He even asked if the merc had been to this place before, admiring his skill in avoiding traps in this god forsaken world. And he couldn't help but wonder how would it be like with the rest of his company, triggering the enemies and traps all the way to the destination, fighting off hordes of skeletons and ghosts on their way there. And someone would probably get injured, like bad, that's inevitable with the annoying girl.

They reached the place where the piece James's souls was stored at, taking a moment of rest to review their progress in a seemingly safe place after at the top of a ruined tower, away from the life sucking crystals and walking monsters. From this spot the world was like on a palm of a hand, so vast and empty.

– You think too loud, – the merc slid down the wall, getting comfortable on the floor, – Still think about that annoying sister of yours?

– Can't help it, – Mark sighed, lying on the cold black stone.

– Were you comparing me with those friends of yours? – the guy smirked, getting a candy for himself out of a pocket.

– Uh-uh, I said I can't help it, – elf nodded, rubbing his hands against his pants to get them a little bit warmer: for some reason they couldn't get a fire going in here, – Wonder if Aspen would call her charming ever again.

– The creepy guy with..., – he made another gesture showing tits, as Mark groaned, – I mean, not his tits, that would be even creepier, but that shmexy lady with the tits.

– Shmexy? Gods, you're obnoxious, merc, – elf laughed. The guy had an exceptional ability to lighten the mood anywhere.

– You know, – all of a sudden James's voice sounded way too serious, – Even if she is annoying, obnoxious, and you hate her with all your guts, she still is your sister.

– I don't pay you for philosophy.

– No, I'm seriously, listen. I... would give a lot to get my sister back, hell, even parents too. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you catch my drift. You gotta admit you still love her. Otherwise, you wouldn't arrange a rescue mission for this another sister of yours. You may have some problems communicating with her later, yes, but you'll find out you still care for her, that's how it works. Even if you tried to kill her – well, happens, that's how sibling relationship works. But you don't hate her. You'll come around. She'll be okay too.

Mark tried his best not to listen to the mercenary, though the harder he tried to do so, the harder he listened to the man. Everything he said – it is true. He was frustrated and angry with her, very-very angry, but she's... she's still his sister, someone he's been growing up together. Losing her would definitely cost a lot more than that ring. Yes, the ring was expensive and pretty, but his relationship is kind of worth more.

– She's an asshole, – he muttered under his breath, hiding his face between his legs, as he pulled them to his chest, – Yeah, I do care. But... yep, it'll be of a great trouble to talk to her after, – it seemed ridiculous, the guy had a talent of a preacher, – You sound like a fucking Mara priest.

The guy only smiled an honest smile, winking at the kid.

– You should’ve told her it’s a cock ring though, she’d return it in no time.

The elf slapped himself flat across the face, groaning.

They spent a couple more hours at the top of the tower, planning their routes to and back, observing the whole place from a bird's eye view. Here, that dreaded castle could be seen, black walls surrounding it. It seemed like this place hadn't had any guards around, or they all should be inside, making the castle infested with all kinds of monsters, though judging by the infiltrator's journal there were none, like at all, with the only prisoner in there – a lone and scared girl. And after they were done arguing about the best way to get to the castle and back, they headed down and to their destination, following James's proposed plan.

As they got close, they could really tell that the place had no guards whatsoever, not even undead, and the infiltrator’s journal was right all along. Except that they found at least two bodies in thalmor armor, dead for a long time already, bodies already decomposing.

James slowly opened the giant gate, leading to the courtyard of the castle, trying his best not to let the door squeak; Mark followed him closely behind, bow ready for the possible ambush. He breathed out in relief, sheathing the weapon, as the was no one to attack them, but the mercenary still didn’t lower his guard, commanding the elf to cover and slowly progress forward. Until he saw a woman figure, all alone in this place, sitting on a stair of stones, book in her hand. Her raven black hair covered her face, wavy as ever; he clothes clean without any signs of struggle.

Mark left the cover despite James’s commands, moving closer to her, his speed increasing with each step taken, and at the end he was just running carelessly, getting her attention with the loud impacts with the ground of his heavy reinforced boots.

– Markus! – she howled, her mouth agape, covered by her hand, – Is this really you? – she lunged forward, letting the kid collide with her, the embrace ever so warm. The thoughts raced in her head, as she still didn’t believe her eyes. She broke from the hug, his hands still on her back though as if she was about to run away, studying his face carefully, then hugging him again after she made sure he wasn’t a dream, – I missed you so much! It’s been years since I last saw you!

The elf tightened the hug, lifting her from the ground to get a better squeeze from his cousin.

– Yes, I've had that name for couple dozens of years already, – he couldn't help but reply with sarcastic tone, smiling to the girl, – Are you okay? Are you hurt?

– No, no, I'm all okay, – she let him go, smiling for the first time in forever being the prisoner here, doing a step back to make some space between them. They were joined by the mercenary soon that had his bow ready to defend them should the need arise, – What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!

– I know, but... I went through all the trouble to get to you, so I don’t really give a damn. We need to get you out of here asap, – he grabbed her by her wrist, looking all around them, as if someone would interfere. They could leave the courtesies for the later, when they are back in their world, yet the girl seemed to dislike the idea, as the smile faded from her face

– I can't go. You won't be able to get me out of here, – she said, sadness in her voice, – All the agents Esmir had sent – all failed. This place just won't let go, Markus, – Livaen felt a prickle of a tear in the corner of her eye, wiping it with her hand, – I know you're better than them, but even you won't succeed. Even Esmir herself, – they let the silence fill the pause, looking at each other. Only a moment ago she was happy to see him again, feeling completely destroyed now by being unable to leave. A sound of thunder startled them, lightning lighting up the place for a second, prompting the girl to throw a quick glance behind her shoulder, panic visible in her eyes, – Quick, hide! – the girl shoved both men away from herself, – Hurry! – she bellowed, making them run away from her, to hide behind piles of rubble, watching her closely. A lightning bolt stroke the ground in a few feet away from her, allowing a human figure appear in the violet glow. It made a few steps towards her, away from the fading light, opening its arms in greeting.

– Good day, Livaen, – the figure bowed, and Mark finally noted it was actually a noble looking man, – Do you have any news for me? Did your esteemed grandmother send another agent? – he moved closely, voice leaking with venom at the only mention of Esmir.

– No, – she replied, voice stern, but with barely noticeable tremble to it.

– Are you sure? Do you remember what happens when I am lied to? – the man rounded her, looking around, – I'm certain someone has passed through the portal, and actually made it here, such a rarity, – his voice deep, cold and husky, dangerous tone masked as indulgent.

– The agent has already left, – she never was a good liar, but the tone with which she spoke made Mark swell with pride, – You are too late.

The man laughed huskily, looking all around the rubble of the courtyard, and Mark could've sworn the stranger's gaze stopped right there, where the elf was hiding, looking straight into the eyes for a moment, before shifting back to the girl.

– I will let this lie pass, this time, – he nodded, – Because not only the agent didn't left, we have actually two guests hiding behind the rubble, – his voice different, threat palpable this time, – Your new friends should come out if they value your life just as much as I do, – James threw a glance over at Mark, shooting daggers at him in question. The elf only shrugged his shoulders, ready to get on his feet and out from the cover, as the merc stopped him with a gesture. With no response, the stranger sighed with frustration, – As much as I would love to play with you both, you have to come out at some point, and it's better be now. Do you hear me? – no response again, – Markus, – he said all of a sudden, making the elf glance over at James with an unpleasant surprise written on his face, – Welcome to my world. I would be grateful if you could gather all your courage together and face me, – the man let out a sarcastic laugh, – So much for the fabled arsonist…

The elf sighed in defeat, getting out from behind the rubble pile.

– I'm facing you, now what? – he spread his arms in question. The mercenary followed him, leaving the cover.

The man looked over the intruders, then around himself, as if someone else had been watching them.

– This isn't how I wanted this to happen, – he said, squinting at something in the distance, uninterested in the men in an unsettling way, – But there's not much time left, – the man switched his gaze back at the intruders, also commanding Livaen to come forward with a motion of his hand. He seemed to be overly concerned about something, being almost at the edge of paranoia, as he continued talking to the strangers, – I'm going to contact you soon, – he pointed at the elf, – when it will be safe, without anyone else to overhear us.., – Mark opened his mouth to speak up, and the man didn't even let him start a sentence, interrupting him with a gesture of his hand, pressing the index finger to his lips, – Your "friends" here are the least of my concern, believe me, but we are not alone here anymore, as another party is about to join us, – with a sigh, he pushed the girl towards them, Mark catching her into his embrace, – Take the girl and get out of here. Think of it as a demonstration of my good will, – the company hesitated, not sure if the man before them was joking or not. He let out another frustrated sigh – mortals seem to be too dense these days, – Get out, now, – the man calmly told them, – You don't want to be here when the other party arrives. Livaen, see to it. Now out! – he clapped with his hands, prompting the three to go running away from him and out of the gates.

They exited the courtyard and back into the barren wasteland. It seemed to be even quieter now, void of anything, even the undead roaming around. Except for a few ones that passed by right in front of them, ignoring the living. Mark raised a hand for his companions to stay quiet, trying to pick any noise around – complete nothingness, however, a sound of fighting could be heard in the distance, and Livaen ushered them all forth, throwing glances in the direction of the sound.

– Who was that? – James broke the silence, addressing the girl.

– We must not talk while we are here, – she replied, taking the lead of the company.

Following Livaen, they made a big circle around the path they had taken before, avoiding visible roads and paths at any costs. The monsters, ghosts, undeads – they all seemed to abandon the place, none to be found all around them except for a few weak ones, crawling to the sounds of fight slowly, disregarding the living. Despite the sudden absence of any inhabitants of the world, the girl did not let anyone stop or take a moment to catch a breath, instead herding them to the glowing violet in the distance, portal presumably.

Mark glanced back at the castle, a good distance separating them now. It was just as before, yet a sound of thunder and explosions came from its direction, and once they climbed a hill – a battle could be seen. This is where all the undead went, leaving their usual positions of idling – they tried to stop someone, or rather something, from getting close to the black walls of the castle they've been to before. He looked back at Livaen, wanting to ask her something, but stopping himself right when he was about to open his mouth. The stance of the girl told him there was no time for bullshit.

They finally made it to the portal. The sounds of fight even louder than before, a whole magic show behind them, visible through the thick mist. Livaen wasn’t about to waste any more time, shoving the men up the stairs, following them closely behind. Mark couldn't tell the reason for her to be so rough, but he didn't question it, obeying every single her command. Once they were to the other side, however, she let a sigh of relief, cueing the men to relax, as she herself slit the palm of her hand with a shiv, swiftly closing the portal, stones of the stairs crumbling as the magic binding it together disappeared, completely destroying the passage.

– They will have to find another way out once they find out we are not there anymore, – she told her cousin, noticing the question on his face. A healing spell lit up in her hand, closing the bloody wound on the other one, – I guess you have questions?

The mercenary let out a hysterical laugh, collapsing on the floor not far away from everyone.

– Like hell! Who the fuck was that, and what was that fight all about? – James asked, catching his breath. Mark leaned against the wall near him, sliding to the floor, strength long gone from the escape.

– Yeah, who was that? – the elf's breath seemed to be completely knocked off.

– You do not know? – she asked, surprised, joining them by the wall, – You went to rescue me without knowing what were you about to face? – the men nodded, telling her the journal didn't mention anyone else, besides monsters and undead, – You are goddamn fools, do you know that? – Mark laughed at that, still having problems with steady breathing, and James only raised his hands in agreement, – Molag Bal. That was Molag Bal himself, you morons, – she heard the mercenary choke on saliva.

– Wait-wait-wait, – he uttered, still coughing, – How was that possible? Also, doesn't he usually r-a-p-e anyone in his vicinity?

– Too busy with whatever is bothering him, – Livaen replied, gaze wondering around the laboratory, – Ever since I got in his hands, it was the complete opposite of what common knowledge says of him. But he did murder all those agents that were unfortunate enough to not take the cue to leave in time, – she exhaled, deeply, troubled with saying the next sentence, choosing her words carefully, – I was brought by a dremora of his to the Coldharbour first… in a bad shape. Thought I was done for. But… he showed mercy? It was… bizarre.

– And what about the "other party" he spoke about? – Mark asked, eyebrow cocked. The words of the most cruel daedric prince being merciful shocked him, yet he didn’t let that show. Somehow he felt like pressing into the matter further wouldn’t go as great at the moment, the questions should wait at least until they’re safe, – Did they chase us?

– I don't know anything about them. But I know enough that he feels... threatened about it, – she let a sigh out.

They stayed quiet for a while: the merc was fast asleep, too tired to stay awake; the kid was spacing out, mind completely blank; the girl in her own thoughts, curled around the arm of her cousin.

– You said you're broken, alone, cold, – Mark broke the silence, addressing Livaen.

She looked at him, surprised, pulling back a little.

– No, I didn't.

– No, no, you said it in my dream...

– In your dream? Mark.., – she sounded confused, – Mark, I can't go into anyone's dreams, that is something... something way beyond my capabilities... I.., – she didn't finish the sentence, falling quiet instead.

– ...What did happen to you?

– I don't want to talk about it, – the girl replied, changing the pose to face away from the cousin. The elf looked at her, contemplating on the choices here, opting on pulling her closer: he extended the arm, grabbing her by the front and pressing her back into a hug. Should have done this earlier, as the girl relaxed, – I missed you. Came all the way from Summerset to the border of Skyrim.

Mark snorted.

– Yeah, speak of the brave girls, – he gently stroked her head, placing a kiss at her temple, – I missed you too, – Mark wanted to press into the matter, ask more about what really happened to her, yet she didn't feel comfortable talking, it seemed, and instead he focused on soothing her. Eventually she will tell him. With that, he slowly drifted to sleep, too carefree now to feel bothered by the ancient vampire castle.

***

They made it back to the outside later that day and back to the boat. Skyrim greeted them with blazing storm, wind howling among the rock and rubble, water splashes from the sea turning ice midair, snow whirlwinding all around them. The girl was obviously not used to these conditions, trembling under the cold Skyrim wind, even covered in fur blanket James had brought with him before.

Going back during a snowstorm proved to be more than difficult: they almost managed to get lost in the waters, nearly sailing towards the frozen, fabled Atmora, but were lucky enough to catch the same current that brought them back to the shore from which they had departed, only mere moments before the blizzard worsened. It was fun, so to speak. Livaen urged them to go forth, despite cold and blowing wind, snow acting like a sandpaper, bruising their frostbitten skin.

It’s been a few more days until they finally got back. They were deadly tired, their horses as well - poor animals had to endure a lot; the blizzard spread across whole Haafingar and extended to the borders of Whiterun hold, slowing them down, making them stop for camping rather often. Mark had never seen the weather be this bad, given the years he’s been away from Summerset. For a southern girl – Livaen thought of this as of a complete hell, saying that being the prisoner wasn’t as bad as the snowstorm.

– We’re here, – Mark dismounted his horse, helping Livaen to get down next, passing the animal to the man in charge of the stable, – Take care of them, they’ve been through a lot, – to that the man nodded, waiting for the other guy to give his horse into the care. James patted his steed by the neck, allowing it to go after the caretaker, – We won’t need your assistance any further, – the elf addressed the mercenary. He reached the inner pockets of his coat, getting out a pouch with gold, – Your pay. Should be enough.

The merc smirked, weighting the pouch on his hand.

– Yep, seems about right, – he swiftly untied the knot, looking at all the coins inside, – It’s been good dealing with you, dear, would love to work with you once more, – James extended his hand to Mark, shaking their hands. The elf winced – he definitely wouldn’t hire anyone again in the near future, as the pay of the mercenary had caused a huge blow to his budget, and the pet names were too annoying. The guy still was one of the best in this entire province, so he didn’t really mind much.

– Thanks for helping me, – the kid smiled an honest smile, – I wouldn’t’ve gotten my sister back without you, – he tugged the girl into a half hug, finally at peace with her around.

– Saying your goodbyes already? I’m wounded, – the man theatrically laughed, – It was a fun ride, so I’d like to see you actually get to safety of your parents’, – James motioned at the direction of the city with his artificial hand, suggesting to finally end their journey. The elves nodded, following him, chatting amicably.

They were at the doorstep of the house, Mark ready to knock the door, instead just allowing them in. Before he could do that, however, James’s hand stopped him, carefully squeezing his arm.

– Whatever happens, she, – he made an emphasis at the mess that happened a week or so ago, – she still is your sister. And you love her, despite her being a brat, – The man let him go, allowing to proceed. Mark sighed, loudly, nodding with his head to acknowledge the mercenary’s words. Right. Whatever happens, it’s all past now, and he can’t allow them all to be divided again.

The door opened, and Mark let himself in, gesturing the others to enter the house. The house was empty, no sound of anyone inside. The fire in the fireplace kept going though, something cooking in the pot, steam coming from under the lid.

– Is anyone home? – he asked loudly, waiting for someone to reply or come out. Not a single soul, – Guess everyone’s out, – Mark shrugged his shoulders moving to the kitchen to find some edibles to consume – they’ve all been starving.

After eating some of the stew the mother had made, the three moved over to the fireplace, getting comfortable on the rug near it. The warmth was something they had definitely missed in the past few days. The leisure time was spent in talking to each other, discussing their journey or plans for the future; the mercenary quickly drifted to sleep not a while after – it was ridiculous how quick he could just fall asleep; as well as the girl, comfortable in the brother’s embrace. Now that Mark was alone wide awake, the thought about pressuring Livaen into telling him about what happened to her had crossed his mind again, yet he had enough empathy to tell she was not ready to open up yet. Couple more minutes, and he drifted to sleep himself, exhausted from the rescue and quite comfortable in the warmth of the house.

– … that turnip was bad, – was heard on the other side of the door before it swung open, an old and scarred elf appearing on the doorstep. He first reached to the sword on his back, noticing the intruders, then just lunged forward, recognizing the sleeping people, – By the nine! – his heavy armor made a screeching noise as he fell down before them, kneeling at their level. The noise startled the three awake: the man just groaning in response, shifting to the other side just to face away from the doorway; the girl blinking with her widely open eyes, mouth agape; the kid just utterly confused, trying to push the elf away from them. Without any success in shoving the old man back, the altmer retaliated, grabbing the kids into a tight hug, nuzzling into their hair. The girl whined, unable to breathe, and Narandil loosened the grip on them both, instead cupping Livaen’s face with his palms, – I had no hopes of seeing you again, – he gently stroked her head.

The others swiftly joined the old man, gathering all around them.

– I’m surprised you made it back, – the redguard woman said, kneeling down near them. That went out in a different tone that she initially planned on, – I’m sorry, didn’t mean it to sound like that, – she got closer to Mark, hugging him slightly, – You made us worry… shitless, – the woman cringed at the word, still holding the kid in one place. He threw his arms around her back in reply, and soon was followed by couple more sets of arms.

– I’m sorry I said that, – the words of apologies were never easy for him, having to force them out instead, – Shouldn’t’ve said it and rushed like that, – he heard an obnoxious tongue clicking right near his ear, making him sigh with relief, – And I’m really sorry I snapped like that at you, – the tongue clicking stopped, and instead he could feel the mischievous smile of Visenya, the words of James still lingering in his head.

The girl pulled away from him, suddenly gaining a whole new interest in something, or rather someone else. And he was really worried he’d have problems communicating with her in future.

– Oh my god, you’ve brought me a new boyfriend, – she gasped, quickly moving toward the half-awake still dazed merc. Meltem sighed at that.

Mark looked all around the room, finding Aspen beside him. The parents were standing a little farther away, watching the drama with obvious amusement. Narandil had already pulled Livaen to her feet, making sure everyone met her properly. Visenya was cooing all around the merc, seemingly interested in him more than in anyone else, then all of a sudden switching her attention to Livaen, calling her yet another girlfriend material, making the old elf issue the brat a light slap on the back of her head.

– Hey, you can let me go, both of you, – the kid patted the hands of his companions, prompting them to release him from their hold, raising off the floor with external help. It was… strange, he thought, that no one has given a damn about what happened… or rather tried to pretend like it never happened. Either way, he was relieved to be back home, his cousin back at his side, again, with nothing else to worry about for now.

#sc_storytime #SC_Mark #SC_JamesDenton #SC_MeltemEsteban #SC_Visenya #SC_NarandilThreadis #SC_Malcolm #FV_Aspen

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inspirationdivine · 4 years

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Eye to Eye || Lydia and Amnon

A Spirit and a Fae walk into a bar...

@exorciseyourspirit

“Thank you for this. I’ll keep you in mind next time I need arsenic based paint,” Lydia said, as the man in green stood up. She rather loathed to deal with people who did not share their name, but as an alchemist he knew how to obtain things she did not, and so this would have to do. Now he was finished, though, her gaze turned to the non humandancers on the stage in front of her. Here, few hid. A lampade danced with her top off and her antlers out. A werewolf’s teeth glinted in the blue lights as he negotiated with a customer. There were no meals here, but plenty of talent, and perhaps someone who was immune to her lips to spend the night with. She sipped at her martini as she watched, curiously.

Amnon was a creature of many vices. It’s how he’d become what he was-- this monstrosity of a spirit, full of rage and anger and power. The world he’d been born into hadn’t been ready for someone like him, and he’d left the world cursing them all with his hate. But having been without a physical form for so long, being in one now only made him smile. Especially in such a body so full of energy. It made him want to enjoy his many vices over and over and over again. Freakture comforts had been a place he’d frequented back when Rebecca’s body hadn’t been his, and he’d been more than happy to return. He’d been preoccupied for a while, but then someone else had caught his eye. In the corner, tucked away, talking to another more regular looking man. One of them was probably a spellcaster, the other-- as soon as her counterpart left, he saw them. The iridescent eyes. Now what could someone like this be up to? He just had to know. Moving gracefully through the crowd, he sat next to her. “All these people,” he said softly, “and I somehow find you the most enticing.”

“Oh?” Lydia turned her gaze to the newcomer, an ordinary looking woman with one, notable difference. His eyes were red. Her first thought went to the dangerous gaze of Mara, but this red was much plainer. It did not glow, they were simply as red as the heels of Lydia’s shoes. She looked the woman over curiously, with a critical eye. “That is a high compliment, considering the available entertainment. You’ve a rather intriguing appearance yourself. I had been considering whether to leave or not, but perhaps I’ll stay.”

“Well, you’re certainly the nicest to look at here,” Amnon said in Rebecca’s silky smooth voice, letting a smile curl onto her lips, eyes flitting around before resting back on the other woman. Her eyes intrigued him as well, as they sparkled softly under her lashes. “Tell me, is it the eyes? Because it’s the eyes for me, too,” he said, stirring his drink with the two little straws they stuck in them. He’d watched bartending evolve over the years, and the little straws had always been his favorite addition, aside from the tiny little toothpick swords they served olives on. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

The woman had a seductive quality to his features, as he glanced around the room, before turning his gaze back to Lydia. “Are they now?” As the lights shifted across her irises, so did the colour of them, glimmering. “It is the eyes. I’ve not seen eyes like yours before. I’d normally wear contacts over mine, but I needed a contact to identify me.” He was so interesting, as he spoke with that lily soft voice. “If I’m to stay, do I get to learn a name? My name is Lydia.”

“Yours are just as interesting, though I’m sure I’ve seen them somewhere before,” Amnon said, tilting his head as he watched the woman with wide eyes. “Lydia? That’s quite the name. Can’t say I’ve met any Lydia’s in my lifetime, and trust me,” he nodded, taking a pause to pick up his drink again, “I’ve been around a while.” He swilled the ice in his cup before taking a sip. “You can call me Tamar for now,” he said, before shifting the conversation. “A client, you say? Now, what kind of business aside from the obvious could someone have here?”

“Tamar for now,” Lydia replied, with an eyebrow raised, but acquiesced with a small nod, intrigue glittering in her eyes. “Hardly anything too exciting. Occasionally my work requires ingredients one cannot acquire elsewhere, and that dealer in particular has an unusual taste for meeting places. There are not many people anymore who produce arsenic paint. It was rather routine, but my evening seems to have improved from there. What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

He liked watching Lydia’s eyes. They reminded him of the iridescent sheen blood took on in moonlight. Amnon shifted, his focus solely on her now. “Your work? Oh, arsenic paint. Haven’t heard of anyone using that in at least a century. Are you the daring type or just the ‘don’t have to worry’ type?” He gave a chuckle, in Rebecca’s soft tone. “I’m glad I can help improve it. Me? Oh, just...indulging. It’s been awhile since I’ve been so...corporeal.”

“I do it safely, with protective equipment. I work in art restoration. Some painting are very literally demanding as to the materials I use,” Lydia replied. “This one spits goop at me when I use the wrong material. Understandably, it is something I’m hoping to avoid.” She laughed, but her eyes were piercing as she looked him over. “I see now. That body wasn’t originally yours, then?” A ghost, or perhaps a spirit. Now that was interesting.

“Oh,” Amnon said suddenly, “You’re the restorer. I remember talking to you online.” Interesting, he thought, that people could meet through such a service. My, how the world had changed. He brought his eyes up to meet Lydia’s, loving the way her gaze tried to pierce his. “It spits at you? My, can’t say I’ve ever encountered something like that.” He leaned back, hand tapping against his glass. She caught on quick. Rolling his lip between his teeth, he grinned. “You’re clever. No, it wasn’t. But it is now. And that’s what’s important, right?” He met Lydia’s gaze again. “So I showed you my cards, do I get to see yours?”

“Ah. That must make you the anthropologist. Although I suspect a being such as yourself is more concerned with other things.” Lydia replied, tilting her head. She hardly believed a spirit like this would concern itself with being a Professor. “Indeed. I’ve dealt with paintings of all natures and statuses, but I will definitely be glad to see this one go. It’s one thing dealing with demanding clients, altogether another if the painting has opinions.” She preened slightly under the compliment, and watched him bite his lip. Lydia was, in some way, very aware that this being was not the safest to be around. But then, neither was she. “You can see my cards in my eyes, but perhaps I’ll give you another clue.” Her glamour slid off her face a little, just enough to reveal the tips of her ears. “Leanan-Sidhe.”

“Oh, no,” Amnon said, “I’m no anthropologist, though I have watched a lot of their history develop myself.” He followed her head tilt with his own, watching her closely as she spoke. “Hmmm, sounds like a hoot. I’m sure someone would pay good money for it once you’re done.” He smiled as she responded to his gaze, straightening herself up. When her glamor slid, his eyes widened, taking in the little gift he was being given. “Ahhhh, yes,” he said, perking up himself, excitement in his eyes. “Oh, I’ve met a few of you in my lifetime. Or, lifetimes I suppose. I admire your work, and I don’t just mean the paint restoration. What would it be like to feed straight from a human’s essence?” he bristled with eagerness at the thought. Though his power came from the soul, and other souls, he’d always wondered what it would be like to feed directly from a human.

So he didn’t have complete control then, Lydia suspected, not that she was about to ask. “You must be ancient,” she commented with deep admiration in her voice as she leant forward. “Someone is paying good money for me to finish it. They want it in their museum, in good enough condition that it doesn’t threaten the guests. Once I learnt about this painting’s quirks, naturally my quote increased quite drastically.” She sipped from her martini, watching him with a proud smile. “Depends on the human. Some of them are dry as unflavoured chicken, some are like fine wine.”

“Ancient is one word for it. Let’s just say I was there before Rome and I’m still here after,” Amnon commented. He liked to flaunt his age. With age came power and knowledge over others only time could give. It wasn’t something taken lightly, and he knew that. He could see it in the eyes. “Though, to be fair, I was killed long before even the Etruscans came around. Being a spirit has it perks, but I do often find myself missing the corporeal world. Hence, the new look.” He gave a little wave to Rebecca. “You like? She was an exorcist who bit off more than she could chew.” He watched her drink, eyeing her sharply. “I’m almost curious enough to want to see this painting for myself. I wonder who would pay for such a thing. And if that’s true, then, what’s your favorite flavor of human? I know your kind feeds from the ah-- artistically inclined, right? So what do you prefer? Musician? Author? Illustrator?”

“Before even the etruscans? I cannot imagine the things you have seen, what you must know,” Lydia murmured, looking him over curiously. “I have no desire for immortality like that myself, but I would love to hear the stories you must have to tell.” At the mention of the exorcist, she felt herself grow more comfortable, and more bold despite herself. Her reverence lingered, but Lydia also sensed a kindred spirit of sorts. “Classic human. A couple evolutionary quirks and they deem themselves fit to be the moral arbiters of everyone and everything else. It sounds like she has gotten what she deserves.” Lydia chuckled. “Perhaps you should come see it sometime. Word smiths of all kinds, although I like to keep my portfolio variable, so that I can keep a balanced palate. What about yourself? Why this particular exorcist, as beautiful as she is?”

“Oh, the things I’ve seen, darling,” Amnon cooed, as if wistful. “Empires come and go, men rise and fall. Cities built and burnt down. History written before my eyes. By my hand, sometimes. I could go on.” He stirred his drink again before finishing it off. “Immortality isn’t for everyone, I understand that. I didn’t truly ask for this life, but I suppose dying with a curse on my tongue is what got me here. Not that I’m complaining anymore.” A smirk, lips curling, eyes shining. He liked this Lydia. He liked her a lot. It wasn’t often he found himself fond of anyone, but he knew there was something different about Lydia. Something he could connect to. The slow torture of humans, after all, was in her DNA. Whether she believed she loved her humans or not, that’s ultimately what it was. Torture. A form of torture he’d never be able to compare to. But he would try. He had, after all, an eternity. “She certainly got what was coming to her.” A chuckle to match. “Ah, yes, the wordsmith. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that humans always have something to say about everything. Good choice. I bet they taste delicious.” He leaned back again, arms relaxing. “Revenge, mostly. She ruined my last body and chased me down for years thinking she could best me. I obviously proved her wrong. But her connection to souls is what really drew me in. And the fact that she’s one of the only exorcists around that practices the right type of ritual to out my certain kind of spiritual existence. It’s like...a safety measure, if you will.”

“You must tell me about it, some time. Whatever you’d like to share. History is always so much better when it comes from someone who was there.” Lydia looked at his drink with a smile. “Do you want me to get you another?” She asked, finishing hers too. She grinned, resting her chin on her hand.”No, you are certainly enjoying it now.” She glanced around the club pointedly, with all the people and drink to enjoy here. “They sure do. They’re such tools. If they must talk, then why shouldn’t I take advantage? Especially considering how they taste.” She licked her lips at the thought, although she’d fed quite recently. “Revenge is entirely justifiable, especially if you can take out a threat at the same time. That’s fascinating. She suits you well.”

“I’d love to. I have so many tales to tell, it would be nice to tell them to someone interested,” Amnon agreed. “If you’re offering, how can I possibly say no?” It was clear they were both interested in each other, though he wondered just how deep her interest ran. “Oh, I certainly am. Time will do that, to you. Change your mind about things.” Though the one thing that had never changed for him was his lust for chaos in all forms. He doubted it ever would. “More power to you, Lydia. Anyone who can benefit from a foolish human’s hubris is at the top of my list.” He perked up at her compliment, smoothing Rebecca’s hands down her stomach to the tops of her legs. “You think so? I thought as much. I’ll give humans this, some of them really do know how to catch the eye.”

“That they do,” Lydia thought, giving Rebecca a look again. She was older than Lydia liked her humans, sure, but for one of that age, fine to look at. She stood up, leaning over the table to pick up Tamar’s drink. “Another of these, Tamar?” She asked, before walking to the bar. When she returned, two full glasses once more, she settled down with eyes glittering with newfound curiosity. This town, while decidedly cursed, was also the place that kept on giving. “So, how about one of those stories?”

#amnon #para #chatzy #wickedswriting

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