#I get turned around and the roads and buildings gain and lose familiarity in equal measure

[junowritings]

Howdy do~! I have a little request to ask. I love what you did with Ruggie, Azul, and Deuce reacting to their fem!s/o protecting them in a fight. Could you please do the same scenario with Riddle, Leona and Jamil? Please and thanks!

I'm so happy you liked them~! I've already finished Riddle who can be found here! I hope you enjoy these~!

------

Leona

♡ Leona’s one of those people that you don’t always mess with unless you A. Know what you’re doing, or B. know the exact point when to ease up before things go too far. With that being said it’s really fun to try and get a rise out of him if you’ve got the guts for it; however there’s a big difference between some playfully tricks and being downright malicious - and it’s the people with malicious intentions that definitely need to watch what they say and do when in his presence.

♡ Sure, Leona may be pretty lazy at times (a lot of the time, actually), which has sometimes led to a couple hot-shots underestimating the dorm leader and thinking that it’s a great idea to try and work their way up the pecking order by going through him. More than once he’s had to handle a couple of cocky first years, so overconfident in their abilities that they believe they can pick a fight with him and win. In such cases, he’s swift to nip that in bud and remind them that he’s the head of Savanaclaw for a reason, and uses them to prove as an example to any other people who think it’s a wise idea. This makes it so that altercations are few and far between, so chances are if someone’s gonna have enough of a problem with him to try to fight him, it’s gonna be from another dorm.

♡ The first indication that something’s happening is when some punk has the audacity to shoulder check him in the hallway, making eye contact the whole time as if to flaunt that it was intentional. It’s immature, and frankly he’s feeling generous enough to give them one chance to walk away as he elects to ignore them and keep walking. They don’t like that one bit and Leona hears them grumbling to themselves as they whirl around on their heel and move to stride back over to him again. Their attempt to pull the same trick twice backfires when he grabs their shoulder and shoves it away without even looking, only sparing a glance in their direction to flash an unamused scowl as he warns them to think twice before he loses his patience - not a threat, a promise.

♡ It falls on deaf ears, the “what the fuck is your problem?” they throw at him painfully ironic as they advance on him, squaring their shoulders in an attempt to look intimidating as though hoping he’ll cower. But Leona’s no cub, and certainly no coward, and so he steps up to the challenge, straightening up and rising easily to his full height as he steps forward, glaring down at them as his scowl morphs into a full on snarl. Leona doesn’t even give them the chance to try and land a hit - the second they pull up their fist he bats it away, watching them stumble and try again.

♡ They keep trying, managing to at least nail him in the shoulder before he starts taking the fight seriously. This time the student tries to get a kick in, and no sooner has their boot made contact Leona counters with a kick of his own, hitting them hard enough that they buckle, cussing him out as they grapple for his hair, yanking hard and attempting to bring him down with them. He hisses, baring his teeth and jabbing at the crook of their elbow only getting angrier the longer they hold on. He’s just about done contemplating how he’s gonna end up sending them to the infirmary when someone else finally intervenes, having spotted the confrontation as they rounded the hallway.

♡ Another set of hands dives into the fray, untangling the student’s grip on his hair until they let go long enough for Leona to whip his head back out of their range. Chances are he’d have dived right back into the fight were it not for the fact that someone stepped between them - you, to be specific. You look pissed - at first Leona thinks it's aimed towards him, but then you whirl round, leaning down to yank the student up by the crook of their arm and pulling them with you till they’re far enough away from Leona. At that point you relinquish your grip, giving them a rough shove for good measure; they give you a seething look, but your only response is “Be lucky I’m not letting him finish this fight - Get lost.” as you jab a thumb towards the dorm leader as if to support your argument.

♡ The student huffs, but ultimately storms off pouting like an insolent child not getting their way; the pair of you watch him leave before a groan directs your attention back to Leona. He runs a hand through his hair, massaging the part that was yanked with a dissatisfied grumble. Maybe he’d feel better if he’d gotten a few more punches in, but now that it’s over the ache from where the hand had been is getting on his nerves, but it’s nothing he hasn’t experienced before and is just fine shrugging it off.

♡ You aren't, however; a tentative hand comes to rest over where he’d been touching, hesitant at first till you’re sure that he’s not going to move away from you. Your touch is significantly more gentle, and gone is that miffed look from earlier, now replaced with something a little more fonder. Leona hasn’t been privy to your anger often - exasperation, sure, he’s done plenty to see that side of you, but anger is another thing. Your fingers ghost over a soft spot and his mouth twitches at the discomfort, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t close, and just like that your expression turns stern as you muse out loud that maybe you should’ve let him kick their ass after all, That gains you a toothy grin in response, one that remains on his face even as he guides your hand away from his head and stands back up.

Jamil

♡ Even after the overblot incident Jamil’s still picking up the pieces. Regaining the trust of his dormmates was challenging enough - it took a lot of time of being mindful of his actions and helping others to even start the process of getting them to look at him without being wary of him breaking again. And even then he’s still working to rebuild the faith that they once had in him, as arduous of a road that is, though Kalim’s open forgiveness certainly helped; it’s a long journey that’s going to take longer than just a few weeks, a fact Jamil is acutely aware of.

♡ However there’s still a good number of people who don’t trust him, and he has yet to miss the glares and wary glances casted his way when they believe he’s not looking. He can feel the eyes on his back, tense and hesitant as if waiting for him to trip up and reveal some other nefarious plot; he doesn’t blame them of course - in their position, he’d be equally as cautious, however the unrest still builds, and Jamil knows it’s only a matter of time before someone moves in to bury the proverbial dagger. Until someone actually decides to act there’s little more he can do than carry on and handle that inevitable confrontation once it comes.

♡ It seems he’s not the only one who notices the tension however. After the initial incident you begin visiting Jamil more and more often, going out of your way to spend a little more time together with him. You’re worried about him, that much is obvious, but it comes from a place of affection rather than malice compared to his interaction with others, so Jamil more than welcomes the company. He’s familiar with your protective nature, both because he’s perceptive and because he’s seen it for himself; you value your relationships with others highly, and he knows you’ll do anything to keep those same people protected. Your additional presence seems to ward off some of the seething glares, and helps to alleviate some of the tension Jamil carries around.

♡ But you can’t always be there, and it’s one of those times that you’re not that things end up coming to a head. Jamil expects a confrontation - what he doesn’t expect is for them to try and take him by surprise, taking advantage of a moment where he’s alone. He hears the footsteps running up behind him, and he has just enough time to sidestep to the far side of the corridor before a student goes running past him, tripping over their own feet after being thwarted from their would-be punch. When Jamil looks back to check where the student had come from there’s several others racing to close the distance right alongside their friend, looking equally enraged as they approach. One person Jamil can handle, perhaps two or three; however there’s enough to know he’s outnumbered and Jamil, though he loathes the thought of fleeing, knows a fight he can’t win on his own when he sees one.

♡ Two sets of hands grapple for him but he twists out of their grip with ease, already working to generate some distance between him and the others as he eyes them cautiously. He attempts to gauge if there’s any chance of them giving up now that they don’t have the element of surprise on their side; it's not that easy however, and once they begin attempting to approach again a vicious back and forth begins. They’re hissing threats and other obscenities, which works in his favor since they’re more focused on yelling instead of putting all their effort into catching him. Even so the distance is gradually closing, and with the lack of people around to intervene things aren’t looking up anytime soon.

♡ Right when one of them tries to take another grab however, a loud shout breaks through the voices, and just as suddenly the students are yanked back and away from him. There’s yelling and struggling, and Jamil’s taken aback to find out that the people jumping to his aid are none other than his fellow Scarabia students, who seem just as surprised at what’s going on. Who doesn’t look surprised however is you - you look absolutely miffed as you storm over to one of the apprehended students and shove them back for good measure, using every inch of your willpower to bite back the cusses you so badly want to say once you realize exactly what’s going on.

♡ Jamil’s startled by the turnout, though he gets little more than a word in before you’re talking. “I swear, I leave your side for a minute and some jerks think they can attack you! And how is a whole group against one person fair?! Huh?!” You hurl that question at the group, who flounder under your words with no leg to stand on. Their lack of reasoning or response only fuels your anger, and you take a step towards them as you add, “Even think about doing this again - to anyone - and you’ll answer to me, okay?”

♡ That gets a chorus of anxious nods along with pleads to let them off the hook. You cast a glance behind you at Jamil seeking his verdict; he sighs but gives a nod and the Scarabia students let release their hold on the group and give them a wide enough berth to start retreating. It isn’t until the last ones out of your line of sight that you relax, rubbing your temples with a deep exhale. “Man, just wait until Kalim hears about this.” At that Jamil responds, the protests of informing the excitable dorm head of the event already forming when you turn to ask him if he’s okay.

♡ “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” you look worried as you ask, now turning fully to face him trying to discern any possible injuries as you take a step towards him, close enough to place your hands on his shoulders. At his reassurance that yes, he’s fine, the nervousness doesn’t leave your expression as you let out a sigh. “Good, good. If they’d done anything and I didn’t get here in time I…” you trail off, expression souring at the unpleasant train of thought that seeps in at the very words. Jamil notes your falter and brings a hand to cover one of your own, giving it a reaffirming squeeze trying to wordlessly quell your worries. This time when he repeats that he’s okay you seem convinced, relaxing a little more as you shift your hand just enough for your fingers to interlock.

#twisted wonderland #imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twst leona #jamil viper #jamil x reader #twst jamil #request #ask #dfghgfd Jamil's one of my favs and I think it shows with this lmao

[dindjarindiaries]

Collide - Chapter 1

summary: Bella arrives to Colombia to start a new life at her new job and instead runs into some old things.

warnings: angst. lots of it.

rating: R

word count: 4.315k

masterlist

chapter 1.

Medellín, Colombia, 1992

You look out the window of the plane as it begins its descent into Colombia. A soft sigh passes through your lips as a weight seemingly falls off your shoulders. Getting out of Texas is proving to be a relief for you already; you may be running from your problems, but damn does it feel good.

Colombia is a dramatic place to run to, you know, but after hearing about the crisis on the DEA’s hands there with Pablo Escobar having escaped from La Catedral, you couldn’t help immediately requesting a transfer. Not only is it getting you far away from Texas, but it’s also putting you at the heart of some of the trickiest work the DEA’s had to do—a sure distraction from the daily torment of your mind. With no family to leave behind, you feel as unattached to your home as ever, and the feeling is already more freeing than you’ve anticipated.

After waiting a painfully long amount of time for a cue, you’re soon reaching for your carryon and getting off the plane. You stop at baggage claim once you’re in the airport, preparing to get over the border. You raise an eyebrow when you see a man start approaching you, his tall and lean demeanor not appearing as threatening but simply surprising, sticking out oddly amongst the locals who roam around. He ruffles a hand through his light hair before he stops just in front of you.

“DEA,” he greets, flashing his badge. You do the same with your own. He offers a small smile. “Good, you are the new agent. I was hopin’ they would give me an accurate enough picture.”

You chuckle a bit yet keep your gaze skeptical. “I’m not new,” you correct him, “just… reassigned.”

He nods, reaching out his hand to shake yours. “I understand. I’m Steve Murphy, your new partner.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, letting your arm fall back at your side, returning a smile as best as you can. “Nice to meet you, Agent Murphy.”

“Please, just Steve or Murphy is fine,” Steve insists. You nod to acknowledge the correction. “Look, I know you’re probably confused as to why the hell I’m here, but you see—when I came through here the first time, they found out I was DEA and somehow ended up killin’ my cat, so… I didn’t want that happenin’ to you.”

You widen your eyes in shock. “Damn, I’m sorry.”

Steve waves his hands. “I’ve done my mournin’. I’m just here to make sure you don’t have to do any of your own.” He pauses, looking at the luggage you’re carrying. “You don’t have a cat, right?”

You laugh lightly. “No, Murphy, I don’t.”

“That’s a great start.” He bites back more chuckling as he takes your largest bag for you. “Let’s get goin’. You’ve got a lot to see today.”

You can’t help feeling a swarm of butterflies ignite in your stomach, composed equally of nerves and excitement. You follow Steve to the border control, getting cleared with ease thanks to his presence and soon finding yourself outside in his car. He takes you on the road quickly, and he gets down to business straightaway.

“It’s dark shit down here,” Steve begins, not looking away from the road as he speak, “as I’m sure you know.”

“From what they’ve told me,” you respond, “and what I’ve seen on the news.”

Steve huffs. “The news. Don’t got a damn clue what they’re talkin’ about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I thought they agreed that Escobar—?”

“No, no, not with that shit. Just…” Steve trails off, letting out a heavy sigh before finishing. “Things. It’ll make sense once you’re settled in down here.”

You offer a nod, tapping your fingers against the car door as you look out the window. You watch as your new home passes you by. There’s lots of children running around and enjoying the warm air, bringing you a nostalgic smile regardless of the pain those memories of your own now offer. Other people stroll down the streets, looking like they’re either going to shop or just having a leisurely trip. Some simply stand there and stare at Steve’s car as it passes by, and at the sudden unease their attention brings, you break your eye contact with the window to look back to the windshield. The city seems surprisingly active and busy for a place that’s suffered from acts of terrorism and violence at the hands of a drug lord.

“You alright over there?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your observations, and you turn quickly to look at him. “You got quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah, just looking,” you murmur. “I’m surprised. It seems…”

“… normal?” You offer a nod as Steve finishes the thought for you. “Yeah. That might be one of the saddest parts of it all.”

“Do they all know about Escobar?” You know the question sounds naïve, but you can’t imagine how they could possibly know about everything that’s been happening and still function as if the world’s completely normal.

“‘Course.” Steve pauses as he takes a turn, soon pulling up into a parking space outside a large building adorned with a sign designating it as the Policía Nacional de Colombia. “Some just still think he’s a hero.”

You scoff. “A hero?”

“He built neighborhoods with that money, helped out the poor. To some, he’s their Robin Hood.” Steve turns off the car, looking over at you. “Sorry we had to come here first. You can leave your stuff here, and I’ll bring you back to the apartment building after. Your rental’s there.”

You wave a dismissive hand at him. “It’s fine. The flight wasn’t that bad, anyway. The sooner I dig into things here, the better.” You’re yearning to lose yourself in your work, to finally push aside some of the darkness that clouds your mind—or, at least, exchange it for a different kind of darkness.

You and Steve both get out of the car, and he leads you inside. You already feel surprisingly comfortable alongside your new partner, likely because of his sheer kindness and evident grip on reality. He seems educated, motivated, and experienced, which are all things you’ve always wanted to see in a partner. You’re about to vocalize some of these thoughts to ease the nervous tension that’s surely exuding from you when Steve unknowingly cuts you off. “So, there might be one small detail I haven’t told you yet.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and look at him. He looks over at you, a small grin appearing on his lips before he looks ahead of you again.

“We have another partner. Now, he doesn’t know you’re comin’, because—well—he isn’t the best at makin’ quick friends, and he can be too skeptical for his own good. We had to surprise him.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course there was a drawback. Things had seemed too good when it was just you and Steve. “Oh, that’s… great.”

“Don’t worry, you know your shit. I’m sure Peña’s gonna warm up to you just fine.”

Upon hearing the name, your gaze snaps over to Steve, and you feel a rush of strong emotion run through you as you nearly stop dead in your tracks. “Who?” He doesn’t even have to answer as he suddenly stops at a cluster of desks, and you look ahead to meet the deer-in-the-headlights expression of none other than Javier fucking Peña.

You freeze. It feels as if your entire body has turned to stone, and if you make one wrong move, you’ll crumble into pieces on the tile floor. You haven’t seen Javier ever since that night—that fucking night. That night was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before—and, as hard as you try to keep it tucked into the shadow of your memory, it always somehow makes its way to the front of your mind again—and the fears that’d crept up in your mind shortly after ended up coming true. That’s when life in Texas became a shitshow: right after senior prom. Nothing had changed between you and Javier, and he treated you the same, as if you never shared those intimate moments together under the night sky at all. You didn’t gain the faith to confront him about it until just before he left for college. It proved to be a bad decision, as Javier was immediately flustered and, as a result, very angry. He questioned your friendship, your lifelong bond, and you—and he rejected it all. When he left the next morning, you never saw him again. Ever.

Until now.

His dark gaze pierces through yours in a way it hasn’t ever since you shared far too much of yourself with him. You want to look away, but you can’t, and you absolutely hate yourself for it. You shouldn’t be feeling fireworks inside your stomach, or a skip in the rhythm of your heartbeat. Your eyes shouldn’t be noticing his new sense of fashion, having exchanged the modest flannels and loose jeans for tight short-sleeve button-ups and fitted denim. You shouldn’t have the urge to melt into the ground when you observe the long sliver of tanned chest the loose buttons of his shirt offer, or the new mustache that makes his lips look even more kissable than they did all those years ago. Yet, here you are, unable to do anything but stare.

“Javi?” you finally choke out, your throat already feeling dry.

“Bella.” Javier’s voice is much gruffer than it used to be, as if it’s been roughened over the years, and your knees almost give out at the sound of it. Hearing him say your old nickname nearly makes tears rush to your eyes, but you refuse to let something so childish happen during your first few minutes at your new workplace.

“So… you know each other?” Steve interrupts your trance, and both you and Javier look over at your partner who’s evidently confused by your familiarity and longer-than-necessary stares.

“Why are you here?” Javier questions you as if Steve never spoke. You look back at him, seeing his gaze glitter with a hint of concern at your random presence. You want to tell him to cut the protective and sympathetic shit out, but you also want to wrap your arms around him and let him comfort you.

“I work here, now.” You say the words more firmly than necessary. Javier’s brow lifts, and you swear you can see a hint of horror in his expression. “As an agent.”

Javier’s head snaps to Steve, and he gives him an accusatory glare. “You didn’t tell me we were getting a new partner, Murphy.”

Steve shrugs. “It was last-minute.” Javier exhales deeply, closing his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose and leans back in the chair of his desk. You feel an ache in your chest, detecting that he’s displeased at your presence. You let it fuel the angrier side of you as you cross your arms over your chest indignantly. “That won’t be a problem, will it, Peña?”

Upon hearing Steve’s words, Javier looks up quickly, his eyes falling on you as he shakes his head. “No, Murphy, it won’t. I just… I would’ve liked a warning, at least.” Javier stops, and his eyes continue to watch you as Steve pushes a vacant desk over to the cluster of two where Javier sits. He maneuvers it so that it splits the end of his and Javier’s desks, placing you in almost a mediator position. It’s just as close to Steve’s as it is Javier’s, which you feel grateful for at the moment. Still, there’s a small part of you that yearns to be even closer to Javier to make up for all the years you’ve endured without him.

You scoff to yourself at the thought. Endured. Javier’s absence was torturous, indeed, but it was mainly because of his stinging rejection that had made you question so much about yourself. He’d taken your vulnerable heart in his hand, provided it with the most love and comfort you’d ever felt before, and then ran it through with the sharpest of knives, leaving it to bleed back in your own chest. And now, he’s staring at you as if that never happened, as if he can’t understand why you haven’t run over to him and embraced him yet.

What a cocky bastard. The Javier you knew—rather, the one you thought you knew—would never be like this.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Steve warns you, gesturing with his thumb back to the hallway you just came from. “Messina wanted to see you.”

You nod, unable to produce words thanks to your racing thoughts as you file into the hallway behind him. Though you’re faced away from him, you can feel Javier’s gaze burning into your back, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from looking at him. You’re still unable to process the fact that it’s him, and that you’re going to have to get closer to him again whether you like it or not.

Maybe one of the things he said that night had been true: your paths really did collide in the most unexpected of ways. Is it a good thing? You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you’re even ready for that answer yet.

The brief meeting with your new boss feels like a blur, and while you’re able to hold together your professionalism and understand the things you’re being informed of, your mind never leaves the man who’s waiting for you back in the office. You’re proud of the way you can compose yourself despite the storm that’s raging within, like a feral animal being caged and managing not to fight its way through fragile iron bars. You tell yourself you can keep it up once you’re heading back to where you came from, but you’re not sure if you can.

So much has happened since Javier walked out of your life, and you’re sure it’s been the same for him—and, despite how hurt you’ve been by him, you still feel attached to him. You want to know about his life because you still care for him. He’d mangled your heart, yet it still belongs to him, and you know that. It’s just what makes everything shittier, because you know he doesn’t feel the same way. How could he, if he’d walked so easily out of your life and never even tried to come back? Javier’s never been one to leave things to fate, so it’s not like he’s been waiting for a miracle to see you again. If he had, he wouldn’t have tried to marry one of your high school friends or started a brand-new life in Colombia without so much as a phone call to let you know.

Shit. It’s gonna be a goddamn fight to keep this animal caged.

When you get back to your desks, Javier’s gaze snaps up from his previous work straightaway, falling on you naturally. You avoid his eyes, knowing they’re a trap that’ll drown you back in the feelings you can’t give in to right now. Steve announces that they’ll catch you up on everything they’ve got so far, and so all you have to do is sit in your chair as they tell you names, places, faces, whatever the hell they’ve managed to scrape up and what they can do with it all—which is not much, right now. They talk about the tip lines and how unproductive they are but encourage you to just deal with it for the time being.

While in the midst of a rant about a time they ended up visiting a complete setup, Steve suddenly gets cut off by the ringing of his phone. He picks it up and answers, and your gaze falls to your thumbs as they play with each other in your lap. You refuse to look up, knowing who you’ll have to face if you do. You’ve been doing so well, and you’d hate to ruin it so fast. Your gaze only raises once again when you hear Steve hang up his phone, and you look to see him gathering his things.

“I hate to do this, but I gotta run,” Steve announces, looking between the both of you with a guilty expression. “Connie’s getting called in for something, and she needs me to watch Olivia.” Upon seeing your confusion, Steve gives you a clarification. “That’s my wife and adopted daughter.”

You nod, lifting your brow in an attempt to alleviate his guilt. “Don’t worry, Steve, it seems like not much is happening around here, anyway.”

Steve scoffs in agreement, grabbing his keys and stalling immediately after. He looks at them and then back at you. “Shit. Your stuff.”

You make a move to stand up, intending on going with him. “I can just—.”

“I got it, Murphy.” Your head snaps over to Javier upon hearing his interruption, and he’s already risen from his chair to walk over to Steve. “We’ll put it in my car, and I’ll bring her back when we’re done here.”

“You sure?” Steve seems almost dumbfounded, as if this is something extremely out of the ordinary for Javier. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It probably is.

“Yeah. Now let’s go before Connie calls back asking where the hell you are.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as they walk down the hallway towards the exit. You sit in a panicked heap at your desk, staring blankly into its metallic surface as you try to determine how you’re going to keep yourself composed once you’re alone with Javier. Your fingers bounce on your thigh as your other hand runs over the crook your neck, a typical nervous habit of yours. The thoughts in your mind run so fast that you can’t keep up, and before you know it, his voice is breaking everything up again.

“You alright, bella?” Javier’s voice, while still rough, is softer than it’d been even just minutes before, and you watch him as he sits back in his chair and leans towards you. His dark gaze never leaves you. I wish he never left me.

You curse your thoughts mentally, instead forcing a small smile on your lips. “I’m fine. Just… adjusting.”

Javier raises an eyebrow at you. Your fingers begin to tap against your thigh again, and your hand slides back and forth over your neck. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Your nervous thing.” He gestures to your neck and thigh with his head. Your mouth nearly falls open at that. You didn’t expect him to remember things like this anymore. You were sure he’d long since forgotten about you—but things like this are starting to make you think otherwise. “Are you nervous?”

You shrug. “Sounds like a lot of shit’s happening down here.”

“Not at the moment.”

Your lips make a thin line as you try to ignore the awkward tension swimming around due to both your inabilities to address the elephant in the room. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”

“No. It fucking sucks.”

“Oh, yeah, well—sorry about that.”

Javier stares at you blankly for a moment before the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. He lets out a curt laugh, shaking his head as he runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Dios mío, bella, relájate. You know me.”

You feel your anger begin to bubble up as you furrow your brow at him. “Do I?”

Javier’s eyes widen a bit, and you resist the urge to flinch at the shock and hurt his gaze reveals. “What do you mean?”

A crude chuckle leaves your lips as you cross your arms. “Javi, you’re acting like it hasn’t been almost twenty damn years since I last saw you, after leaving off on the worst of terms.”

Javier doesn’t respond at first. He only begins to look around nervously, as if he’s scanning the area for potential eavesdroppers. He then rises from his chair, beckoning you to do the same. “Let’s have this conversation somewhere else.”

You oblige, feeling more than glad to be getting the freedom to give Javier a piece of your mind. No, you chastise yourself. You can’t do that. You have to stay calm. But, after the hell you’ve lived in ever since he walked out of your life, how can you possibly do that? Everything went to shit after he left, and he never even checked back in to see if you were okay. It’s not his fault, but for some reason, you put a lot of the blame on him. Unfairly.

Your mind runs through all of this as you follow Javier to his Jeep, trying not to think about the times he’d opened the door for you that night. Once you’re both sitting inside, your mind envisions him holding your hand in his, and you shake your head to try and get rid of it. As soon as Javier starts pulling away from the building, he wastes no time continuing where you’d left off.

“So, you never thought about me all this time?” There’s a pained tone to Javier’s voice, and you feel a quick pain in your chest upon hearing it. “Is that why you’re saying you don’t know me?”

“No, Javi, you idiota. That’s just the problem—I have. A lot. But have you? Because it really seemed like you didn’t even want to remember me when you left that day.”

You see Javier’s jaw clench, but he remains silent for a few minutes before speaking again. “I was young and stupid then. I didn’t mean what I said, bella.”

You bite back a harsh remark requesting not to be called that, knowing it’s just second nature for him—a word with completely detached meaning. “If you didn’t mean it, then this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you since that night.”

Javier’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, and you watch as his knuckles go white. “Well, you haven’t made much of an effort to see me, either.”

You scoff at his words, looking at him with widened eyes. “Because I thought you never wanted to see me again! What the fuck did you expect me to do? Beg for you to forgive me for being honest? You broke my fucking heart, Javier.”

Javier’s shoulders tense at that, but you’re too angry to read further into its meaning. Your gaze has now switched to the window, and you continue to look out and breathe in tempo with the bounces of the Jeep over the uneven Medellín streets. Javier’s silence is deafening, and you’re almost relieved when he speaks again to break it. “I never wanted to.” His words sound like they’ve been choked out, and it almost makes you tear your gaze away from the window. “I know it won’t mean much now, but… I’m sorry. I’m real fuckin’ sorry.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from forgiving him on the spot. Those are some of the few words you’ve been craving to hear from him ever since he left, but you can’t give in that easily. There’s just too much he hasn’t addressed yet—things that you know and things that you don’t. He has to realize it’ll take time. So, once you compose yourself and take a deep breath, you speak to him again. “I appreciate it, Javi. But you have to know, we can’t go back to the way it was.” You finally look back over at him, trying to ignore the way his eyes are glossier than usual. “Maybe… maybe we can get there, but it’ll take time and work. Since we’re partners now, we have to be willing to do that. Especially for Steve’s sake.”

Javier nods right away. “I’m more than willing if you are.” He pauses as he arrives to the building, pulling into the small driveway and parking the Jeep before looking over at you. “You may not believe me, but I’ve really missed you, bella.”

You offer a small smile, trying to ignore the rush of feelings you gain from his words. “I’ve missed you too…” you trail off, hesitating before reaching into the depths of your strength to utter the last word, “… cariño.”

Javier’s eyes light up a bit at the sound of his familiar nickname, and he gives you a smile similar to your own before he steps out of the Jeep. You do the same, allowing him to help with a piece of luggage as he shows you to your apartment, which—lucky for you—is just down the hall from his. “Did Steve give you your key?” he asks, and you nod as you pull it out of your jeans pocket and show it to him. Javier gives a nod of approval, watching as you unlock the door and step inside. He sets the luggage down near the doorway, freezing in place after he does so. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

You stop to look at him, nodding in response. Javier lifts his hand to offer an awkward wave before he steps out, closing the door behind him. You release a breath you haven’t realized you’ve been holding, and you find yourself plopping down onto the nearby couch. As you look around your new home, a wave of overwhelming feelings sweeps over you, and your face falls into your hands. You have a brand-new place to get used to, Escobar’s missing at large, and the man you still love is right down the hall, and he’s one of your new partners.

Maybe the true shitshow’s just getting started.

chapter 2

translations:

Dios mío, bella, relájate = My God, beautiful, relax

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @marchingbass1 @madadlorian @ah-callie + three users that tumblr said didn’t exist! (stilllivindue2spite, kkgraham, irishleesh93)

#javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier pena fic #collide fic #dindjarindiaries #narcos #narcos fic

[holy-mountaineering]

This Tree of Life is for an anonymous friend who shall go unnamed but they are not unloved!

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the “meh” card, Queen of Swords, or how you feel about what you think and your reasoning.

Ideally, this Queen is the “caller out of bullshit.” She is watery (intuitive) enough to feel when a facade is being put up and airy (intelligent) enough to cut the shit and address the fakery. The difference between someone trying to take advantage of another and a person who accidentally causes misfortune is the intention of said individual. Don’t be fooled by kind wolves or rabid sheep.

She rests at her throne with the head or mask of a man and the sword of her mind she severed the head/mask with. Her expression is one of disinterest, she’s done this many times before and shall again and again. It is her nature.

Be aware of intentions, even  your own. Be wary of situations and people talking from behind masks they wish to use to obscure their true meaning. Especially be aware of yourself and your masks you hide behind.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is the always welcomed X Fortune, Jupiter, Kaph. 

The “wheel of” Fortune is the rotating of things from confusing and/or destructive to beneficial. The gods Hanuman and Sobek to Crowley represented these ideas and the spinning ‘Wheel of Fortune, ol’ Fortuna is the constant motion of life and our experience stuck in it.. The Sphinx on top has waited through the turns patiently and meditatively and now It is on top again. 

Expand your influence through patience. It’s getting better just you wait.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the fuckery of the 7 of Swords, Futility.

This is the main thrust of the Will through the mind being thwarted by in helpful organization of ideas. Each sword with a planetary sigil are like the spikes in a parking garage, one way. It isn’t that the ideas or aspects represented by these swords are “bad” just that their placement and yours are not lined up in the best way right now. 

Mentally and communication wise pull back from what you’re going at and work on how your organizing the information in your head.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 9 of Cups, Happiness. 

I call this ‘mutually beneficial relationships’ or expanding influence (Jupiter) going or being pulled both ways (Pisces). Each cup has its own source but everything is flowing into each other down to the base of the 3x3 structure. There is a lot of water and all it represents and it hasn’t reached its peak yet and is still driving upward and outward.

Cultivate relationships and connective feelings that aren’t lopsided or just giving/taking. Keep building  you’re not done yet.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the popular tonight Atu XIX The Sun, Resh, Sol. 

The Sun is The Lord of Light and Life, the center of our little Solar System. Everything in the fairly large gravitational pull of the Sun is affected by it which pulls everything to it. If it weren’t for The Sun, nothing in our Solar System (named after Sol, The Sun Himself) would be where it is or nearly as well lit or full of life.

This more or less self sufficient little nuclear reactor in space gives life and light but also pulls small things which cannot maintain an orbit around it in for the final burn. bright and full of life and light but deal not with bullshit trifles. 

Center yourself but be aware of what you effect and how. Keep pumping out the power but make sure it’s that good good renewable energy.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the (more fuckery) Princess of Swords, the earthy part of Air.

This is the material situations that manifest from your way of thinking and communicating! You have to understand that we literally create reality with our perception, thoughts, and language. And that can get messy if we don’t keep them in check.

Get your head into the game as they say, you’re here right now and what is going on in this moment is what you need to focus on. Stay away from nostalgia and daydreaming, think on your situation, not possible scenarios. 

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is well EXTRA FUCKERY, self fuckery, if thou wilt. The 9 of Swords, Cruelty (to self and then by proxy, others).

Like the other 9s this is a massive building up, in this case of Air, mind, thinking, communicating. This is beating yourself up about a decision that must be made. Astrologically, Mars in Gemini relates to action being thwarted because of a split mind on a matter.

You are mentally at a fork in the road and you need to make a choice one way or another.

You’re building up a lot of ideas but you need to decide which way you want to go or it’s going to keep tearing you up mentally. There is a lot of force and mass here, move it or lose it.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is a whole new way of thinking and perceiving, Atu XX The Aeon, Shin, Fire.

Think about where you are now and how you go about doing things in general. Do you remember a time before this point in your life when you acted differently and didn’t have this kind of understanding of the world? The Aeon is a new understanding and thus a new way of acting in your life.

Harpocrates giving the sign of silence has to do with the meditative process of accepting this new law of life. You must truly grasp the meaning of this change in order to act in the new “spirit of the age” if you will.

You are being born anew through fire and blood, you are emerging from the egg in the background and coming forth.  What you take away from this will be with you forever but one day will also be improved on and brought to a new level. 

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is a lot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the organized 6 of Wands, Victory. 

This is organizing each action to interact with another to create friction at the intersections. 6s are like the idealized form of each of the suits, in this case FIRE or action, movement. Victory is achieved through strong organization. Here the strands come together to form the rope you pull yourself up with. Each piece is strong on it’s own but when you twist them together correctly you have a much better tool. 

Don’t do isolated things, use each action to build on your goals.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is a wedding! VI The Lovers. 

These Lovers aren’t about romantic love as much as it is the ‘Love unites the divided.’ This is the ceremony part of the alchemical wedding or the announcement of the intention to dissolve duality. Coagula.

All inverse and adverse elements of the card are brought together under the blessing of the Initiator who is giving the sign of the enterer. This is to say he is blessing your entering into this union of your shadow and conscious self.

You have some work to do on making a more unified you. There are issues that once brought together and balanced make more sense. Bring opposites or aspects of yourself you’re not familiar with/comfortable with together in your life to make a more complete whole. Set intention to do this, maybe even formally. 

SO, whenever you get over being over “it all” and you realize it’s just a stuck point, shit will finish getting different, again. This change in “luck” should give you a chance to look at how you’re organizing your own funeral, so to speak. If you feel like you’re pushing a fucking boulder up hill, maybe don’t. Maybe figure out a pulley system or conning someone else into doing the work like your little one eye’d Friend, lol.

And you’ll gain more important influence by surrounding yourself with folks who give and take in relatively equal proportions. I know, I know, this is “The Dream” but it is possible to cut off people that just sap your “love force” leaving you with nothing but force. Refocus on YOUR goals and YOUR Light and the things in Orbit of you will makes sense and hold their satellite positions and continue to do their little (and big) jobs. But this is all done by GETTING YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME. If you see yourself as a lone wolf fighting winter alone, winter will eat your ass every time, and not in a fun ass eating way, more in an ice giant just gobbling you up. You make your reality, possibly more than most, so make it one that puts you at the center so you can get shit done.

You aren’t going to grow from this garbage heap if you don’t stop beating yourself up about every goat-forsaken choice you make! Your total understanding of your standing in the Universe is about to get a reboot anyhow, so just surround yourself with people and energy that allows you to build toward that anomalyous “self goals” thing we’ve been kinda talking about. You’re doing one “Supreme Ritual” that is your life, so make it all Work together instead of weird little stand alone actions you do every once and a while when it suits your fancy, Your Path requires a fuck load more that that from you.

And speaking of demands, that wedding… You’re hanging in there (pun absolutely intended) to do Greater things, and Greater means integrating. Like I was just saying about that 6 of Wands, bring it all together as a “Supreme Ritual” of your Goatdamned life and get out there and fucking take it, announcing that you shall take what is yours, which is of course, only you…

Well, there you are anonymous bud and Odin friend/family/familiar.

Beat down the walls and Goatspeed on your journey UP!

-Frater N0vght

#tarot #divination #cartomancy #occult #magick

[golden-deer-dear]

History on Repeat, Chapter 2: Lost, Claude x Byleth Modern Fic

Summary: Byleth slept after she lost him, awakening ages later to Garreg Mach University. She is drawn into the friendly competition between dorm floors, an argument as to which D&D group is better, trips to coffee shops, and the questions into her own lost memories.

Claude could not help but be suspicious of Seteth’s niece who appeared out of nowhere, but there was something so familiar about her, something that made his heart ache. How had she appeared in his dreams years before either of them even came to the University?

Read on AO3.

Prologue Chapter 1

The stone was warm against his back as he laid down, folding his arms behind his head to serve as a cushion. Starlight winked down at him, making him feel more relaxed than he had felt in years. He picked out familiar constellations, the myths behind them floating through his mind.

“I knew you’d be up here.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He would recognize that melodious voice anywhere. “And I knew you’d find me eventually.”

She let out a soft hum, amusement lining her voice. “What would Seteth say if he caught us sneaking out on our own engagement party?”

She sat down next to him, and without even thinking about it his arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his body. “He’ll get over it.” He kissed her, brushing back mint green strands of hair to tuck behind her ear. “Tomorrow I get to marry the most amazing woman in the world. No one could ruin this for me.”

Her laughter rang clear through the night air. She said something, and he responded with something equally amusing. But the dream was fading, and he could no longer make out the words. 

He could feel her straddle him, kissed her back when she leaned down to kiss him, hot and desperate. He felt his body respond to her, eager for her touch. But her smile and laughter, the beauty of her above him, slipped through his fingers.

Claude woke with a deep groan and slammed a pillow over his face. For a week now he had dreamed of the green haired woman. Sometimes he fought at her side. Sometimes they were matching wits in political battles. The last two nights, however, Claude found himself whispering words of love to her, kissing and touching her in only the way two people deeply in love would. 

“Great,” he said into his pillow, voice muffled by the fabric and stuffing. “I’m having fucking wet dreams about some fantasy woman my mind cooked up. Just wonderful.”

/

Byleth was bored. 

There were only so many times she could walk the estate before the repetitiveness of the action was no longer interesting or distracting. Flayn had shown her how to work the device known as a TV, but she was so far removed from knowing any cultural context that it all flew over her head. (She had found a few romance movies she enjoyed, but the majority made her sigh with disappointment. The overuse of small moments of miscommunication as a plot line was baffling to her.) Even the phone Seteth had given her had stopped working.

She needed to get out of the house. Her boredom was going to turn her to insanity at this rate. Which was why she was finding her way to the garage. Indech was there, as he always was, polishing a black car that was already spotless. He glanced up at her when she entered, but did not stop his task.

Indech was a broad shouldered man. When he stood still he looked more like a bulwark than a human. Byleth was certain she had never heard him speak, but like Flayn and Seteth, there was something about him that felt familiar. It was nowhere near as strong, more like a nagging at the very back of her mind than the comfort she felt with the other two.

She watched him for a few minutes, comfortable with the silence. Indech did not try to draw her into conversation, nor did he really expect anything from her. Byleth figured that was why she came to the garage so often the past few days and watched him work on Seteth’s collection of classic cars.

When Indech straightened and turned to her, Byleth finally asked, “Can you take me to where Flayn and Seteth are?”

Indech gave her a shrewd look, but eventually nodded. He led her over to another car, this one more convintinal than the previous one he had worked on. He held the passenger door open for her, and helped her with the seatbelt. Byleth had seen him take Flayn and Seteth into town, but never actually been in a car herself.

Indech got in on the driver’s side and they were off. The change in scenery did wonders for Byleth’s mood immediately. She leaned back in the plush seat, watching as the green acreage of the estate gave way to the roads and buildings of a small town. Buildings grew taller and closer together, more people were about to wander the streets. 

Indech eventually pulled the car up alongside a group of buildings, many people coming and going from each of them. Some of them did not seem to care about the multiple cars they were having to dodge as they ran to their next destination. 

Cars honked at Indech as he parked the car, seemingly somewhere he was not supposed to, but that soon stopped as soon as the large man stepped out of the car. He came around to the other side and opened the door for Byleth, offering her his hand to help her out. Once she was on her feet, he pointed to a building at the center of campus. “There,” he said in a deep and rumbling voice, somehow reminding Byleth of the sea. “Can you find your way?”

Byleth nodded. Sure the paths were packed, but it should not be too hard to find her way to the large central building.

Indech made a soft noise of acknowledgement, the rumble of waves against the shore. He then pointed again, this time across the street from the campus building. There was a shopping center, but Indech seemed to specifically be indicating a...well, Byleth was not sure what a Bergliez Smoothie was. “I will be there if you need me.”

When she nodded again, Indech ducked back into the car. Byleth watched him pull back into the traffic flow of the parking lot before turning back to the central building. Right. This would not be hard at all. She just had to get there, and then ask someone where Flayn was.

Of course, as disinterested as she had been in TV programming, once she was actually out and about in society, everything was fascinating. Byleth found herself wandering, letting the conversations about topics she could not even begin to understand wash over her. There was something about it all that made her feel at ease. Being here felt right.

It was only much later that she realized she had lost sight of the building Indech had pointed out. She couldn’t even retrace her steps, as she had not been paying attention to where she’d come from in the first place.

/

“But it’s ridiculous! How hard is it really to find chantilly lace!”

“But isn’t that stuff really expensive?” Annette interjected when Hilda paused to breathe. “It’s made by hand, right?”

But Hilda had stopped midstep. Marianne nearly ran into her back, scrambling at the last minute to rebalance her book on the integration of Fódlan and Almyran culture before it could hit the ground. “Hilda?”

Hilda jerked her head toward whatever had caught her attention. Marianne followed her gaze, and felt a similar jolt of shock. “Oh my!”

“Poor thing, she looks lost.” Marianne was glad Mercedes had interpreted their shock as something else entirely. “We should help her.”

Mercedes’ words seemed to spark something inside Hilda, and she quickly outpaced the other three women. “Hey!” Hilda shouted, gaining the woman’s attention. “You lost?”

Marianne hurried up to met Hilda, coming up alongside the woman. Her mint green hair was long and braided. Her eyes did not hold the fierce determination that came with battle. No, now they were confused, and slightly grateful as the group came to her aid. 

But there was no denying it. Before them stood Claude’s goddess.

The goddess nodded. “I was trying to find my uncle and cousin, but I got distracted and lost my way,” she admitted.

“What are their names? Perhaps we know them,” Mercedes said, her pleasant voice causing the woman to relax somewhat.

“Seteth and Flayn.”

Marianne saw her own shock mirrored on the faces of her friends. “Well, Seteth’s office is in the Cathedral Tower, but he usually doesn’t spend much time there,” Marianne said after a second.

“Flayn is usually running around all over campus as well,” Annette added. “But she does eventually always seem to end up at Gateway.”

“I mean, the easiest thing to do would be to text one of them and see where they are,” Hilda said. “You didn’t lose your phone too, did you?”

The goddess shook her head, pulling the device from her pocket. “No, but it’s not working anymore.”

She did not protest when Hilda took the phone from her hand, giving it a quick study. “I just think it’s dead. Don’t you have a charger?”

Marianne could tell Hilda was trying her best to maintain a pleasant demeanour, but the woman’s appearance had thrown her, and their conversation was only raising her suspicions. 

“I-um...no,” the woman admitted. “They didn’t explain that part to me.” She looked between all of them, worry in her eyes at their own shock. “I...I’ve been in a hospital for a very long time,” she said slowly. If Marianne had a less trusting nature, she would say the woman was repeating a line someone had told her. “I was in an accident as a child.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Mercedes clasped her hands in front of herself, pity replacing her earlier shock. “Well, we’ll be certain to show you around. Annie is right, Flayn usually does show up at Gateway, so if we take you there we’ll be sure to find her eventually!”

“Yeah!” Annette agreed, offering the woman a warm smile. “I’m Annette, by the way.”

“Mercedes.” Mercedes offered her hand, and after a moment of hesitation the woman mimicked her gesture. “But you can call me Mercie if you want.”

“I’m Hilda. And that’s Marianne.” Marianne was grateful when Hilda introduced her. She always found introductions a bit difficult and awkward. “And,” Hilda continued, “while I don’t have a charger that’ll fit this phone, I know Claude is at Gateway right now and he always carries his. I’m pretty sure it’s the one we need for yours.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Oh, and I’m Byleth.”

Marianne felt a sudden sense of deja vu. She could not remember where she had heard the name before, but it sounded so familiar. Which was odd, as it was such a strange name to begin with. Perhaps in one of her history books. There were so many legends in Fódlan’s past it would not surprise her if Byleth was named after one of them.

“All right, Byleth!” Hilda hooked one arm around Byleth’s and began to drag her toward the campus cafe. “Let’s go find Claude!” 

/

“Monica, are you listening?”

“Hmm? Oh no. Sorry, I must have spaced out there for a moment.” Kronya only took her eyes away from the group of young women to look at her phone, swiping through the pictures she had just taken to make sure she had at least one good one of that dreadful woman’s face. “Actually, I just remembered an appointment I’m supposed to be at soon. I’ll see you all later.”

She ignored the protests as she stood to leave, pushing past students without giving a second thought to the curses they threw at her back. No, none of that mattered, not anymore.

The goddess’ little vessel, that terrible Fell Star, was awake once more. After so many years they could finally get their revenge on her. 

“Thales is going to be so pleased with me!” she practically sang to herself. 

One touch to the screen and the message was sent.

#fire emblem #claude x byleth #claudeth #claudeleth #claude von riegan #byleth #my fic #history on repeat #fanfic

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 1

This wasn’t meant to be finished anytime soon since her creation just happened yesterday. But.... here it is anyways. Tagging @plumpblueberry for loving Aster the moment I made her.

The sun bared down on her, adding sizzling heat to her already sweaty skin. Days were meant for hiding, resting, and sifting through all the goods that had been previously obtained, but today had a special treat. Only once a month did a merchant bring goods from Central Quarter all the way out to the outskirts of Diamond Territory. The only thing that could draw the little dragon out from her den. The wonderous smells of freshly baked pastries, cooked to absolute perfection. Her mouth watered simply imaging the gooey goodness melting in her mouth.

First, a little fun.

Despite the regularity of this event, despite all their efforts to trap and catch her on this fated day, Aster managed to evade them. The men all dressed in crisps white and red uniforms, and they hailed from the Red Army, stationed out here in the middle of nowhere. With hardly anything else to do, they awaited this day like clockwork. They plotted, planned, always trying to outsmart the girl and failing spectacularly each time.

Evading would be too easy. Being undetected a simple task.

Playing around them suited her just fine on this day. It would a shame not to test out what ridiculous traps they had set up to capture her.

Dust rose from the dirt road under her feet. Worn old muddy shoes carried her through the crowd, ducking and weaving through them. Nearly no one noticed, occasionally a passing glance that saw nothing, like the touch of a ghost written off as the wind.

No shouts followed her today, a strange occurrence. A trap. Yet, having to use her wits to avoid the army soldiers, who gradually learned that the chances of getting close to her increased when their positions weren’t revealed, sent a wave of electric exhilaration tingling over down her body. Try as they might, catching her neared the impossible.

Ducking down a narrow alleyway, Aster lithely hopped upward, using the crates stacked precariously perfect to allow access to the ledge of a small balcony. The ideal vantage point. She snuck a bite of the bun, allowing the warm apple filling to dance across her taste buds. Three, no four, were in pursuit of her. One attempting to blend in with the townspeople, out of uniform but unusually clean. That bearded face one that Aster could recognize anywhere.

“It seems that they require new training, wouldn’t you agree?” An unfamiliar, yet cheerful voice drew her attention away from the buffoons parading around the streets, like wild monkeys. The uniform familiar but much more detailed and unique. Someone important.

Aster crumpled the empty wrapper of her treat and tossed it over her shoulder through the open window behind her. “I here the army only employs idiots who can’t catch a common thief,” Aster answered, remaining on her perch.

The light chuckle brought from her statement gave indication of his intent to play. “Oh, well, that just won’t do. May I reeducate you?” Dipping down in a slight bow, the man kept his watchful jade eyes on her, sparkling with anticipation and delight.

A new player.

Her tongue darted out from between her lips, lapping up the stray spot of apple filling off the side of her mouth. “You’ll lose,” she answered, rising to stand on the balcony ledge, arms out for balance. All a show.

“Do I get the pleasure of acquiring my prey’s name before I begin the hunt?” His tinkling voice offset the threatening words that dripped off his tongue. They had the same desire. The chase giving a thrill like none other.

Aster tilted her head, repeating the inquiry. “Do I?”

Placing his hand over his heart, giving another gracefully shallow bow, he replied, “Edgar Bright, the Jack of Hearts.”

“Aster, no fancy titles,” She answered, giving a mock salute with two fingers. Her advantage clear; intimately knowing the town’s streets and obstacles. Having a new pursuer would not change those facts.

Edgar straightened, tucking his hat under his arm to brush his hand through his brown locks. “Shall I give you a head start?” It mattered not if he did, the confidence that he would catch her showed clearly in his eyes. His only advantage the experience of nearly a decade more of training. The wind blew around them, howling through the alleyway like a warning of the start of the game.

Aster broke out in laughter, making her sides ache. Oh, she liked this one. White hair fluttered around her face, wind dancing around her, almost as if beckoning her to follow its path. “Good luck, Mr. Jack of Hearts.” Twisting gracefully on the ledge, like a dancer turning a pirouette, Aster cast a smirk back at him. “You’re gonna need it.”

The drop down to the other side of the crumbling wall that divided the alley in the middle jarred her body, a rush of adrenaline accompanying the pain. It had been some time since the thrill of being chased put a permanent smile on her lips.

The busy market street aided in hiding her small frame in the masses. Sweeping under a large horse, Aster spotted a soldier ahead, pointing at her and shouting. Her path easily redirected down a side street, placing her just out of their blockade. It must be his doing. A boring tactic, but the chase had only just begun.

The more she wound through the town, the more blockades she met, an attempt to keep her from leaving town. Edgar never reappeared in her sight, but his presence carried on the breeze, nipping at her heels. Run as far as you like, little mouse, you won’t escape.

Aster winded through the streets until she reached the town hall. The stalemate in the chase begged her to gain some ground. The windows lining the three floors were perfectly placed for climbing the side of the building. The flat roof giving a perch for her to wander and examine all her options. Pulling her body up and over the edge, her safe haven had been taken by intruders.

More military men, all equally as well dressed as Edgar, stood in her path. Red eyes analyzed them, all carrying weapons aside from one. This had been his intention. Though Edgar enjoyed a good chase, his mission had been to collect her for his king. By managing her movements, he’d brought her here without her realizing. Edgar clapped his hands together. “Had no one been here, I do believe you would have won.” His admittance fake, but he smiled at her all the same.

Aster cocked her head to the side. “Who says I’ve lost?”

“Don’t be such a child. We have you cornered,” Another interjected, amber eyes pulled narrowly at her.

“The cornered rat will always bite the cat,” she recited, shoulders shrugging innocently. Stepping back, she fell softly onto the ledge to rest her sore legs. Her eagerness to have a new opponent had drove her to run more than before. Hiding took much less energy. “Six ways out, seven if I kill one of you.” Her eyes flickered to Kyle, sourcing their weakest link easily.

Folding her legs up criss-cross, she retrieved a small loaf of bread, sinking her teeth down into it. “I’ll assume that this wasn’t all for a common thief’s capture. So, what does the esteemed Red Army want with me?” Pigeons gathered around her, pecking softly at the crumbs that fell away around her.

“Watch your tone. You’re speaking to the King of Hearts.” Again, the man with the amber eyes snapped at her, like a guard dog protecting its master.

Edgar stepped forward to diffuse the ticking bomb of a superior. “Easy, Jonah. She’s riling you up on purpose.” His gaze fell on her once again, assessing her calm behavior. Surrounded by soldiers yet no signs of fear or concern. Quite intriguing. “Aster, you’re quite skilled. Can I inquire how old you are?”

“Too young for any of you.”

“Do you not know?” Surely an estimate could be made. A teenager, clearly.

The girl sprinkled more crumbles of bread on the ground in front of her, drawing more pigeons. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, thoughtfully watching the birds in front of her. “Sixteen, and some odd months. You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want? It’s really not worth your time to chase down a girl that steals a loaf of bread or two.”

Her knowledge of the army was limited, but the Chosen 13 were still revered here. His title as the Jack of Hearts, and the other man having the King of Hearts, had her curious. This town way out in Diamond Territory had never once been visited by them, and no reason presented itself as to why they would.

The King of Hearts with his icy blue eyes and regal cape draping over his shoulders sent a wicked glare at her. “I’m growing tired of this. You will come back to headquarters with us, immediately. If you refuse, we will use force.” His word absolute.

To those who cared.

Aster grinned plopping the final piece of bread into her mouth, savoring the taste of the herbs used to flavor it. Her palms swiped over her ripped pants, sending the final crumbs tumbling to the ground. “Yeah, no. I don’t plan on going anywhere unless it’s of my own free will.”

Jonah retrieved a pair of glimmering silver handcuffs, adorned with gold roses. “As the Queen of Hearts, I am ordering you to comply.” The pair of them had equally intense gazes.

“Cute handcuffs, but again, I’m a little young for that, don’t you think?”

Her words stopped him from stepping closer, disgust crossing his doll-like features. “What a crass little girl.” Jonah shook the indecision away, intent on bringing her with them. He would carry her if he must.

Aster’s mock salute directed at Edgar was accompanied with a wink. “I never lose, remember?” Striking her foot back against the thin metal piece of siding of the roof, the rattle echoed. The pigeons scattered, taking flight in all directions, blocking their path to her. Aster rolled back, allowing herself to fall from the rooftop.

Right on top of a passing cart full of hay. The scratchy bails marring her pale skin with red scratches. As quickly as she had landed, she disappeared into the shadows, to hide once again. “It would have been more fun to play with them some more, but it isn’t worth my freedom.” The wind carried her whisper away, her only remaining companion.

Home called to her, beckoning its little dragon back into it’s comforting clutches. Her time in the small time had begun to draw to a close.

Oc hell is dragging me further and further down into it!

#she is gonna have some good times working with the red army #her sense of humor gets me every time #ikemen revolution #ikerev #edgar bright #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #kyle ash #zero #red army #aster #ghost in the starlight #chapter 1

[caffeine-catastrophe]

New Fic! Go the Distance

A/N: I have been working on this idea for over almost two years now. In my spare time, I alternate between writing this story and Don't You Stop Believing, and I've kept this a secret from all of my writing friends since I've gotten the idea. I was going to wait until I finished it before I started posting, but I can't wait any longer, and it's far enough along anyways. Updates will be sporadic and work around my schedule, but I hope you'll stick around for the ride.

Go the Distance

Three days, four million dollars, and a cross-country road trip that will change their lives for good. OR: The Dreyar Grant for Brighter Futures is a prestigious scholarship granted to only the most deserving of candidates, but even miracles don't come without a price.

I have often dreamed of a far-off place... ...And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be...

At first, Lucy thinks she might be drunk.

"Excuse me?" She stammers, pressing her cellphone closer to her ear and stepping regretfully over the shards of her favourite wine glass.

"Miss Heartfilia, we're pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a recipient of the Dreyar Grant for Brighter Futures," comes the sweet voice on the other side.

"We'd like you to come in for a brief meeting tomorrow afternoon to discuss the details of the grant. That is if you're interested in accepting the offer," the woman on the phone sounds like she's trying not to laugh.

"Y-Yes! Of course! I'm honoured, thank you so much! I'll be there," Lucy manages to choke out.

"Wonderful! I'll have the details of the meeting sent to you via email. I look forward to meeting you, Miss Heartfilia. Bye now," the phone call ends with a click, and Lucy forgoes the mess on the floor to wander shakily over to her bed. She perches at the foot in dazed silence, nearly startling herself out of her skin when her phone beeps a few moments later.

Dear Miss Lucy Heartfilia,

Congratulations! We have reviewed your outstanding application regarding the Dreyar Grant for Brighter Futures, and we are pleased to announce that you have been selected as one of four lucky recipients. You are eligible for this grant of up to one million dollars, provided you are in the possession of a piece of government-issued ID confirming your status as a citizen of Fiore.

Please bring a legal piece of picture ID, as well as proof of your successful completion of secondary school to your scheduled appointment.

The meeting will be held in the company's Magnolia branch in Conference Room 1407 at 2 PM sharp on Thursday, July 28. Please do not be late.

We look forward to meeting you!

Sincerely,

Mirajane Strauss Secretary Dreyar Industries

She looks over the details once, twice, three times, trying to convince herself that this isn't just another alcohol-induced hallucination. She is not going to find herself sprawled out on the bathroom floor of a sketchy club somewhere tonight. She lies there, staring up at the blank ceiling of her cramped apartment until she finally accepts that the springs of the mattress digging into her spine are entirely too uncomfortable to be a dream.

"Holy shit."

---

"Alright, deep breaths. You can do this," Lucy mutters herself the next day, straightening her pencil skirt and clutching at the envelope in her lap. Balanced on a bench outside of Room 1407, she is a good half hour early and exudes the air of a chicken in a nugget factory. The girl perched gingerly beside her seems equally on edge, smoothing down her pretty red hair now and then and tapping the toe of her crisp heels on the pristine carpet. She looks about as green as Lucy feels.

"Are you here to meet Ms. Strauss as well?" Lucy asks hesitantly, trying to relieve some of the unbearably awkward tension. The girl lets out a startled squeak, tensing as if she is unused to being spoken to. She turns uncertainly towards Lucy, brushing aside the scarlet curtain to reveal delicate features and a pair of wide brown eyes.

"Yes, I am," the girl answers in a low voice, glancing around the hallway as if she might be disturbing those in the rooms nearby.

"You applied for the scholarship?" Lucy tries again gently. The girl simply nods. "That's really cool. Honestly, I was so shocked when they called me. I applied for the grant, but I didn't actually think I'd get it, y'know?" She continues casually. "My name's Lucy, by the way," she introduces herself with an encouraging smile. The other girl finally responds, rewarding Lucy for her efforts with a slow smile that seems to light up the whole hallway. Her gracefully lifted hand shakes Lucy's with a grip so strong she's pretty certain she can hear her own bones cracking.

"I'm Erza," the girl tells her, and Lucy mumbles a vague response. She's too busy being stunned that someone so demure in appearance could probably snap her like a toothpick. Erza, oblivious to Lucy's internal monologue, seems like she might continue the conversation when she spots something over Lucy's shoulder. Her brown eyes widen in panic, and she clamps her mouth shut, dropping her gaze back to her hands. Confused, Lucy turns to see a man approaching from the direction of the elevators. Average height, athletic build — probably the brooding type, she assesses; dark hair and cold blue eyes. He's good looking, but not enough to render someone speechless. Besides, Lucy is pretty sure that there's more to Erza than what meets the eye — she doesn't seem the type to lose her mind over a guy.

The man meets Lucy's gaze with an equally calculating stare, sizing her up as he comes to a halt just in front of their designated meeting place. He glances towards Erza, and Lucy is surprised to see his eyebrows shoot up and his gaze soften minutely in recognition. At his reaction, Erza shrinks back, practically cowering behind Lucy in the most inconspicuously conspicuous way possible. She isn't exactly sure how the two know each other, but Erza is clearly too sweet to be mixed up with someone so standoffish. She clears her throat abruptly to gain his attention, rolling her eyes when he simply raises an eyebrow and levels her with an unimpressed stare.

"Dreyar Grant recipient?" she settles on raising her own eyebrows and matching his expression. He looks to be a man of few words, and while Lucy can respect that she can't say she's too impressed with his attitude. That is, until the newcomer rubs the back of his neck with a boyish grin and his demeanor shifts from cold businessman to sheepish teenager in a split second.

"Yeah, I guess you are too, huh? I'm Gray," He introduces himself brightly.

"Lucy," she responds with an incredulous shake of the head.

"Sorry I walked over here and didn't say anything like a creep," he chuckles ruefully, leaning against a nearby wall. He leans in conspiratorially, "If I'm being honest, I'm kind of hungover. I told my friends about the grant last night and they insisted on taking me out to celebrate. We got a little carried away."

Lucy chuckles sympathetically, amazed at this guy's natural charm when he isn't being all silent and moody. Even Erza's mouth quirked up into an amused smile. Gray seems about to continue when a flurry of pink and white comes barreling out of nowhere, crashing into him with a muffled curse.

"Shit, I am so sorry man, I got really lost on the way here and I thought I was going to be late," the stranger pants, regaining his balance. Lucy tries not to stare at what must be the final member of their scheduled meeting. The boy's hair is dyed a shocking pink, sticking up in all directions and flopping carelessly into his green eyes. Sharp, angular features, muscular build, shorter than Gray by a couple of inches. Familiar, too. I've definitely seen this guy before, Lucy thinks, resisting the urge to smack herself when her dad-joke addled-brain responds, yeah, in your dreams.

"I'm Natsu," he tells them cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the way Lucy is still trying to remember how she knows him while he shakes her hand. "Sorry about scaring you guys like that," he apologizes, "I thought I was going to be late, so I drove here and almost got pulled over for a speeding ticket, and then I thought I was getting followed by a cop so I had to drive the rest of the way like ten miles under." The newcomer rambles on for another few minutes, filling the stale air with his chatter. It's like he's got a built-in oxygen tank, Lucy thinks, marvelling at his sheer ability to go five sentences without a breath. She gets so caught up in his animated conversation that she forgets to be nervous.

And then the door to Room 1407 swings open, and Lucy realizes she might've accidentally swallowed a golf ball with her cereal this morning. The woman standing in the doorway is gorgeous, with big blue eyes and long silver hair that curls down her shoulders. Lucy is usually comfortable in her own skin, but a curling iron has never been her friend and something about this woman makes her adjust the sleeves of her freshly-ironed blouse self-consciously. She sneaks a glance at the other three. Erza is deathly pale, subtly tugging at her crimson locks with shaking fingers. Gray's icy, uncaring facade has returned, his shoulders rigid as he shoves his hands in his pockets. Only Natsu seems unfazed — his posture is as relaxed as ever and the easy grin still tugs at his lips. He catches her eye, winking, and Lucy can almost hear his voice in her head.

Don't worry, we've got this.

The woman finally speaks. "I'm Mirajane Strauss," she introduces herself with a sweet smile. "Won't you come in?"

---

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment; your thoughts, a moment you found particularly interesting! There's nothing better than posting something you're truly excited about and getting to see all the reactions!

Part 2

#fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #erza scarlet #gray fullbuster #Nalu #team natsu #fanfiction #AU! #here we go #go the distance #opals brain is weird

[imagine-darksiders]

Could we get a scenario for the last point in the "dating War would entail..." with the Horsemen? Bonus if it ends in fluff 🙏

xxxx

Him begging you to come back when you run from him, frightened by a momentary lapse in his self-control.

—

“WAR, STOP! IT’S ME!” 

The yell you toss over your shoulder falls onto deaf ears and the snarling, thundering beast behind you releases its own bellowing cry into the night. War had lost himself to chaos. The red giant behind you gains ground as he slams his fists into the dirt and launches himself in your direction. With a scream, you skid into a tight turn and use the momentum to bolt to your right. War’s chaos form collides with a building and you barely have a moment to throw a glance backwards to see him shaking his huge head rapidly before he’s back on your tail once again. 

‘If I hadn’t let those Trauma get so close, I wouldn’t be in this mess!’ you chastise yourself as you leap over a car bonnet. Mere seconds later, the sound of screeching metal hits your ears and you scream when the same car you’d just hurdled goes flying right over your head. Immediately, you try to correct your footing to run around the vehicle, but your shoe catches on some broken glass and in a cruel twist of fate, you slip. 

Your legs fly out from beneath you and with a sharp cry of pain, you land, hard on your back, the wind getting knocked clear out of your lungs with the impact. Your head cracks against the concrete causing your vision to flash brilliant white for a moment. Vaguely, you’re aware of something grunting and the earth shaking periodically with bone-rattling thuds. But there’s a ringing in your ears and a pain in your head that seem to take precedence over whatever menial thing is happening around you. Suddenly, you see red, quite literally in fact. Gasping, your eyes burst open and you find yourself staring fearfully, straight up into the ferocious golden eyes of an upside-down Chaos War. 

Drool drips from his bared fangs, pooling beside your head as he leans down towards your face, still growling menacingly. Tears prick at your eyes when you realise that he really has lost total control of himself. 

“I’m sorry War,” you whimper, “This is all my fault.” 

The beast roars his reply, stomping one of his gargantuan fists into the road next to you, causing your whole body to catch a few inches of air before you land again. Undeterred, you continue, determined to at least give him a proper apology before his nightmarish form rips you to pieces. “You told me to stay back, but I didn’t listen! I-I couldn’t just let you face those Trauma alone! There were three of them, for goodness sake!” For some reason, your sobbing appears to have given the creature pause. He tilts his head to the side above you, still growling, but at a far lower pitch. You squint one eye closed and nervously peer up at him taking notice of the raised fist that hovers above your head. When you spot it, you squeak in terror and throw your arms over your head, fully expecting to be flattened by the best and only friend you have in this dead world. Nothing happens for a few, long seconds, then something grunts above you, so you peek up through a gap in your arms to see War as he seems to strain against his own hand. He’s baring his teeth in a wide grimace with eyes squeezed tightly shut and the balled hand above you shudders violently as though the beast is trying to take back control. Then, all of a sudden, just as you think the sound of your voice is somehow getting through to War, he turns his massive head skywards and roars. 

The noise startles you from your prone position, so you leap to your feet and dash away from where War is now tearing at his head with two, meaty claws. You notice that he’s also beginning to shrink, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins and with the very near-death-experience still playing on a loop in your head, you turn tail and flee, heading for an abandoned bus that lays on it’s side a few hundred yards down the street. 

War, meanwhile, has stopped roaring. His Chaos form finally recedes, leaving a huffing, wild-eyed horseman behind in its wake. Cerulean eyes spring open and he grunts as he pushes himself to stand. War places a hand on his head and shakes away last of the bloodlust that buzzes in his ears. Without warning, the memories of the last few minutes slam into him like a thunderclap. War’s vision clears slowly and he looks up just in time to catch sight of your rapidly retreating form disappear down the road. A mad surge of horror rises it’s ugly head in War’s chest when he remembers how close he’d just come to….to…..

The horseman’s voice is scratchy and low when he calls out to you, “Y/n!” he bellows, starting to jog slowly after you. “Y/n, come back!” He winces when his shout comes out far harsher and more demanding than he intended it to. But he has to both make sure you’re unhurt and that he hadn’t frightened you too badly. But at the speed with which you’re running from him, it doesn’t seem likely. 

War’s colossal heart sinks. “Y/n! Please!”

You scramble up onto the bus and sprint right to the back, ignoring the horseman calling desperately after you. Hunkering down behind the seats, you all but stuff your fist into your mouth to stop yourself from crying too loudly. Evidently, it isn’t enough. Only moments later, you hear War call out to you again. He sounds…..remorseful. If it weren’t for the fact that you’d just seen him lose himself, you might have been more willing to answer. As it is, you’re not, but it seems to matter little in the end when you feel the front end of the bus dip slightly as something heavy steps onto it. 

The motion draws a worried noise from your throat, though not as worried as the sound the red rider makes when he hears you. Heaving out a great sigh, War trundles down the bus quickly, then peers down over a row of seats to find you squatting in the corner, tears tracking little rivulets down your dirt-streaked face. 

“Y/n?” he rumbles. In response, you can only eye him warily and back yourself further into the metal wall behind you. War shakes his head almost imperceptibly from side to side a few times as he crouches low to the ground in front of you. It perturbs you to notice that he’s just blocked off any chance of escape. He’d surely grab you if you try to vault over the seats. 

You’re snapped from your paranoia by the sight of a large, metal hand reaching slowly towards you.

“NO!” 

Instinctively, you slap the hand away as visions of a huge, looming fist, muscle their way to the forefront of your mind. War draws his hand back, equally startled by your shout. His snowy brow furrows and he drops his arm onto a bent knee solemnly. He watches you quietly whilst you suck in breath after calming breath, and as he observes you, you observe him. 

You take in the slump of his shoulders, the brow that sits heavy and morose over a pair of contrite, doleful eyes. The heat that radiates off the horseman before you is no longer suffocating, but comforting and familiar. 

This is your horseman, you realise. The horseman who’d made a solemn vow to die before he let anything sink it’s wicked blade into you. The same horseman who’d stood down the devil when he turned his inquisitive gaze onto your tiny, shaking body. 

Almost as though he’s predicting your thoughts, War speaks. “I would never cause you harm Y/n,” he murmurs quietly. 

Ashamed but still cautious, you turn your face from his intense gaze and whisper, “you almost did…” 

The sound of leather creaking and fabric rustling clues you in on just how badly War had flinched at your statement. But before you have time to feel guilty about it, the horseman nods. 

“I did,” he agrees, “But never before have I been so frightened for your life!” Instantly, War coughs into a closed fist and turns his head down as yours shoots up at the confession. 

‘The horseman, War. Worried? And for the life of another? ….Inconceivable..’ The corners of your mouth twitch up slightly at the recollection of Samael’s tease at War’s expense. The horseman notices the change in your expression and something like hope soars up into his throat. There’s a beat when your face falls into a tired expression once more, but then, you hesitantly, cautiously lean forward and place your small hand on top of War’s large one. The horseman stiffens and stares at the appendage that rests on his own. Biting your lip, you meet his eye and offer him a weary smile which he tries to return. But smiling still doesn’t come easily to War, especially not after he almost killed you. 

“Well,” you start, “tell you what. If you promise not to try and squash me again-” War visibly recoils “-Then I promise to do as I’m told and not try to take on three Trauma with nothing but a handgun.”

War’s brow furrows in concentration and he stares at you for a second or two before rumbling, “That’s right, I remember.” His eyes mist over and he tilts his head. “I remember you almost getting killed by that demon.” He throws a dark glare at you. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you to hide and it almost cost you your life!” The horseman’s teeth are bared and the hand beneath yours has clenched into a fist. You narrow your eyes up at War and stand your ground. 

“I had to help you! I couldn’t just-” 

“I didn’t need your help,” he barks, “I needed you safe and hidden!” His voice echoes out the shattered bus windows and bounces between the buildings surrounding the two of you. War blanches when he realises just how much he sounded like his oldest brother in that moment. 

“I….apologise,” he grinds between gritted teeth, the word foreign and unfamiliar on his tongue. 

“It’s alright,” you whisper whilst waving your hand dismissively, “Just…just don’t go crazy it on me again, okay?” 

War smiles and lifts his free hand to rest it on top of your head in a fond gesture. “Even in my bloodlust, I could never kill you,” he explains. At the furrow of your eyebrows, he elaborates further. “When you were below me, on the ground, I saw you. I saw you through the dark. It took me a moment, but I recognised you when it mattered. You have a light in your eyes that even my Chaos Form can identify. I just had to get close enough…” War finishes and glances down at you, wondering if you’d understood. By the tiny smile stretching across your face, he assumes you do. 

“Sorry I didn’t come back when you called,” you suddenly exclaim as you shuffle close to War on your knees and collapse into his chest, throwing your arms around his broad neck. He deflates notably and hums into your hair. 

“I understand. You were afraid,” he replies. With a small nod against his crimson hood, you bury your face into the cloth and smile wider when you feel two strong hands rest gently on your back. “Are you still afraid,” War’s rumbling, hesitant voice jars you. You think carefully about your response. 

“…A…a little,” you admit. But the moment you feel War’s arms tense slightly, you rush to put his mind at ease. “But I know you won’t hurt me! I mean, you could…” War chuckles grimly “…But I don’t think you ever would. It’s like you said, you stopped yourself when it mattered. That’s reassurance enough for me.” Behind your head, War’s eyes are wide with wonder, but his jaw is set and determined. 

You still trust him. 

The horseman’s hands subconsciously press you closer to his chest and he quietly pledges never to scare you again. Not if he can help it. The thought of you being frightened of him unsettles War in the most unexpected way. 

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #imagine darksiders #war #reader #chaos form #chaos war #hurt/comfort

[svartalfhild]

The Harper from Hunters’ Lane

Rating: T Words: 5,622 Genre: Fantasy, Friendship, A Tango on the Line Between Angst and Fluff Summary: Mornath and Heliodoro gain a valuable new contact.

- - -

By nature, Mornath Sparrowswood was not a person prone to pride.  That being said, if there were anything she could be considered to be proud of, it was that she knew her business, and her business entailed a wide variety of skills.  Most would call her a mage, actress, and adventurer, but to some, she was also a rogue.

Few were aware of how well she knew the thief’s trade and she liked to keep it that way, but if there was one rogue’s skill she would never stop practicing, no matter who was watching, it was constant vigilance.  It had kept her and her best friend, Heliodoro, alive and out of trouble more times than she could count, but it was also useful in spotting trouble for others.

One such occasion was on a cool, crisp evening when Mornath and Heliodoro found themselves wandering the streets of a less reputable neighbourhood in Silverymoon.  The night market was alive under the sparse lamplight that lined the roads, bustling with the poor looking for what the needed after a long day’s hard work.  Here, folk mostly seemed too tired and focused on their shopping to pay attention to Heliodoro’s towering half-orc form, which allowed him and his nervous companion to pass unbothered.

It was the perfect night to look for work - a tavern in need of fresh performers or an individual in need of an adventurer’s aid.  In this weather, people valued help or a good song a little more.  It was getting late, however, and they had yet to find anyone who wanted them.

“Tough crowd, Silvaerens,” Heliodoro remarked after a small inn shut the door in their faces the moment they saw his tusks.

“Remember that war we had just four years ago?  The one where a usurper tae the throne of Many-Arrows decided t’try t’raze this place tae the ground?  The one where all orcs and half-orcs were suddenly deemed complicit, even if they weren’t involved or directly opposed the war?” Mornath replied dryly, eliciting a heavy sigh from her friend.

“How could I forget?  I suppose it’s still quite fresh in everyone’s minds, especially for the longer-lived folk.  We’ll find someone, though.  I’m sure not everyone in this town is aggressively xenophobic.  You’re from here after all.”

“Aye, well, I’ve always been a freak, eve-”  Mornath cut herself short as she caught sight of a hooded figure pass a man looking at a market stall and deftly swipe something gold from his pocket.  She didn’t call the thief out, but instead simply tapped Heliodoro rapidly on the arm and bolted towards them through the crowd.  The commotion this caused was quick enough to alert the stranger and they ran, exiting the main road in favour of a dark alley, but Mornath was not dissuaded.  She followed the thief into the shadows, too focused to bother looking back to see if Heliodoro was right behind her.

Her quarry led her through the winding darkness, trying to lose her in the countless turns and alcoves, but she was quick and not so easily gotten rid of, especially as the landmarks were becoming more and more familiar.  She thought she could corner the thief at a dead end, but they nimbly scaled the fence that blocked their path and instead of simply vaulting to the other side, they continued up onto the roof of the adjacent building.  Their mistake.  Mornath knew Silverymoon’s rooftops like the back of her own hand.

With equal speed and grace, she pursued the thief, climbing up and over shingled inclines after them.  Up here, her surroundings were getting even more familiar, and she realized why when she spotted Sparrow Tower silhouetted in the moonlight not more than two blocks over and it was getting closer.  They were going along Hunters’ Lane, where she had grown up.  An uncomfortable feeling tingled up her spine, but she kept to her task, faking the thief into thinking they’d lost her in the street below and then dropping down behind them.

“Don’t move,” she said as firmly as she could muster, left hand extended out, aiming at the thief’s back with a frosty magic aura.  As they spun around, they slipped their bow off their shoulders and nocked an arrow at her too quickly for her to react.

For a long and tense moment, Mornath and the thief stood off, neither willing to test the other’s reflexes and both heaving to catch their breath, but then...

“Mornath?” a baritone voice queried from beneath the hood, which was soon pulled back to reveal a young half-elven man with a shock of short, dirty blond hair and a dusting of day-old scruff across his sharp face.  She did not recognize him until she met his bright blue gaze.  She’d know those eyes anywhere.

“Lander?” she gasped, taking a step back.  In doing so, she tripped over a sack of potatoes, but before she could hit the ground, a slender arm caught her and pulled her back up.  Lander opened his mouth to say something, but his lips had barely formed the words when he was sidelined out from in front of her by a massive figure and rammed into the adjacent wall.

“Are you alright?”  There Heliodoro was, pinning Lander to the wall with his shield and looking back at Mornath in concern.

“I’m fine,” she replied quietly, still in shock.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.  Mornath, please tell your large friend here to let me go,” Lander wheezed under the pressure of Heliodoro’s shield.

“You know this man?!”

- - -

12 Marpenoth, 1481 DR (8 years ago)

The smell of candles lingered in the crisp autumn air as Mornath darted past a small tavern and around the corner to an unlit alley where a pack of filthy teenagers in heavily worn clothing were playing cards with a well-used deck.

“Ye’re late,” commented an elven girl among them with long wispy brown hair and a sly smirk on her lips as Mornath joined them.

“Sorry, Sparks.  My father turned in late tonight and it’s hard for me to get away when he’s lurking about,” the young mage replied as a dwarven girl dealt her into their game.

“Pfft.  Some rebel you are.  Cannae even get past ye’re own father,” an elven boy sneered as he played a card.

“It’s her clunky halfie feet against an elf’s ears, Dani.  What do ye expect?” Sparks chuckled.  “All I’m sayin’ is there’s a reason we call halfies cha’biir.”

“Oi!  If that word comes out yer mouth one more time, I’ll shove yer head up yer arse so ye can see who’s really half-garbage,” hissed a half-elf boy, who emerged from the shadows to come sit beside Mornath.

“Aw, someone woke up on the wrong side o’ the street filth today and cannae take a joke.  It’s alright, Lander.  We still love ye.”  Lander said nothing to this and simply flipped his bow fingers at Sparks before turning his attention entirely to Mornath.

“Did ye bring the book?” he asked quietly, an eager glint in his eyes.

“I did.  And some parchment if ye want t’start writin’.”  From under her vest, Mornath pulled a small, thin book and a charcoal pencil.  She opened the book to a dogeared page and handed it over for Lander to read.

“’The boy watched the hah...hare queetly-’”

“Quietly.”

“’Quietly, wa...waitin’ fer his moment tae...strike.’  Strike?”

“Aye.  That was really good, Lander.  Ye’re getting better and better,” Mornath encouraged with a smile.  “Keep goin’.”

“’Wind rus...rustled-’” Lander continued, but was quickly interrupted by Dani.

“Ugh, why are ye so obsessed with learnin’ t’read?  What are ye gonna use it for?

“Learnin’ for learnin’s sake isn’t enough?” Mornath challenged, placing down a few cards at her turn.  The dwarven girl swore under her breath and threw down her hand in defeat.

“He could be doin’ somethin’ better with his time.”

“Oh, like we’re doin’ anythin’ better,” Sparks laughed as she played a card.  “This isn’t putting food in our mouths.”

“We’re bondin’.  That’s important, innit?” Dani shot back.

“Oh aye, and it seems Lander’s only been interested in bondin’ with a book lately,” Hilde, the dwarf, put in.

“Or Mornath, more like,” Sparks corrected.  At this, the others all snickered, except for Mornath, who made a stabbing motion at Sparks with her pencil, and Lander, whose dark mood seemed to intensify.

“Really feelin’ the friendship tonight, quessir,” he sneered, grabbing Mornath’s wrist and tugging her away with him as he got up.  She resisted for a moment, since she was winning the card game, but when she looked back at her friends’ shit-eating grins, she decided she’d rather spend the evening with just Lander, even if he seemed especially moody and she had already been feeling rather isolated all day.  She followed him up to the roof of a nearby warehouse, where it was quiet and in full view of the harvest moon in the sky.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into them tonight.  Did you lot find some drugs or somethin’ today?”  The query coaxed an almost bitter laugh from Lander.

“We both know that if we had, Sparks would’ve sold that shit fer a hot meal before any of the rest of us could get our hands on it.  Nae, I dunnae ken who ye think ye’ve been runnin’ with, but this lot have a shithead streak.”

“True,” Mornath sighed as they settled in to their little perch on the roof, opening the book again to pluck a folded sheet of loose parchment from the back.  She wrote each letter of the Thorass alphabet along the edge in a column and handed it off to Lander.  “This is a list of all the letters ye’ve been readin’ in Common.  They’re also used in a lot of regional human languages, like Chondathan, which is spoken not just here, but from Ten Towns all the way down tae Tethyr.  I want ye t’copy each of these letters until ye get tae the other side of the page.”

Mornath handed Lander her charcoal pencil and he fiddled with it awkwardly, seeming not quite sure how he was meant to hold it.  Seeing that he was starting to get too embarrassed and ready to give up, she gently took his hand and placed his fingers in the correct position.  He gave her an appreciative purse of the lips and set to work.

She watched him silently for a time, enjoying the peace, which was so different from the tense quiet of Sparrow Tower.  At home, her mind and her magic were seen as not good enough, not meeting the standards befitting a mage, but out here, she was special.  She was smart and could do things other kids couldn’t.  Sparks had even accepted her into this little gang out of respect for her magic.  And Lander?  No one respected her more.  Granted, that was a low bar to meet, but it still made him her favourite.

“Ye’ve got a lot more focus than the others,” Mornath commented when he was halfway down the page.  Anyone else probably would’ve gotten bored by now.

“Ma parents were soldiers,” was the only explanation Lander offered.  Mornath knew better than to pry into an urchin’s past, so she simply gave a hum of acknowledgement and returned to comfortable silence.  It wasn’t until he had almost filled the page that their tranquility was interrupted.

“Oi!  Lander!  Mornath!” someone called from the street below.  The pair looked over the edge of the roof to see Sparks with her hands on her hips.  “We’re going minin’.  Wanna come?”

“Aye, as long as ye keep the halfie jokes tae a minimum,” Mornath answered before turning to Lander.  “And as long as ma student is comin’ too.”

For a moment, Lander looked as if he were about to tell Sparks to get bent, but then he took a deep breath and gave a stoic “aye”.  He made to give the book and the writing materials back to Mornath, but she shook her head.

“You keep those,” she told him.  “They’re yers now.”  For the first time that night, he smiled, broad and bright.  He stowed everything in the pocket of his shabby trousers and followed her down the building, his mood seeming much improved.

“Hilde’s already had some luck in the tavern, but some rich blokes are about tonight at the market and I think we might be able t’get a few in the alleys,” Sparks explained as Mornath and Lander fell into step with her.  “Dani’s got the plan, so we’re takin’ his lead.”

As they came into the bustling market at the end of Hunters’ Lane, all three of them pulled up their hoods and began to casually move along the edge of the crowd until they spotted Dani and Hilde lurking next to a merchant stall.  Hilde discreetly pointed at a well-dressed and slightly drunk fop of a human man standing in front of the next stall.

Mornath and Lander peeled off into the shadows of another alley and watched for Dani’s signal, while Sparks approached their prey.

“Please, sir, you have to help me!  My mother’s hurt!” she pleaded, adopting a Chondathan accent and making herself as small and pathetic as possible.

“Huh?  Sure, where is she, little lass?” the drunk replied with a lecherous chuckle and allowed himself to be pulled by the wrist towards the alley.  At that point, Dani signed in Thieves’ Cant for Mornath and Lander to go further down and around behind the pawnshop.  They scampered off as instructed and waited for Sparks to bring the drunk to them.

After about a minute, he came stumbling along, asking where this mother was, totally unaware of Dani and Hilde closing in behind him.  Getting an idea, Mornath whispered a few arcane words and created the illusion of an elven woman lying on the ground, which earned her a grin and a high-five from Lander.

It wasn’t long before the drunk caught sight of the illusion and shambled over to it, slurring in a rather creepy manner about help a pretty lady.  When he bent down to touch her, Dani took the opportunity to strike, slipping his thin urchin fingers into the man’s pocket to extract his coin purse, but he wasn’t quite quick enough.

The man’s hands passed through the illusion and even in his drunkenness, he seemed to comprehend what that meant.  Dani had only gotten the purse half out by that time.

“Hey!” their victim barked, grabbing hold of Dani by the wrist.  Sparks and Hilde jumped in to try to pull them apart, but the drunk’s grip was too strong.  Mornath and Lander hurried out of their hiding place to intervene, but not before Dani had thrown his full weight at his attacker, knocking them both into a pile of crates with a horrid crash.

“Dani!  Dani?!” Hilde panicked, rushing forward to grab for Dani again in the tangle of limbs piled across broken crates.  Dani allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet with a groan and everyone stopped in their tracks when they noticed the drunk wasn’t moving.  Something dark was spreading across the ground beneath his head and Mornath felt her stomach drop out.

Sparks knelt down cautiously to get a better look and then immediately backed away.

“Oh fuck!  Oh fuck!” she gasped.

“Is he...?” Lander started to ask, sounding very much as if he knew the answer, but didn’t want to believe it.

“Aye.”

The distant but distinct sound of clinking armor reached their ears and the true panic set in.  The Silverwatch guards were coming.  Someone had probably heard the crash.  Dani hastily snatched up the coin purse, which had fallen to the ground.

“What are ye doin’?” Mornath hissed.

“Gettin’ what we came fer.  What’s it look like?”

“Ye can’t take that.  If ye do, they’ll know he was robbed and they’ll be lookin’ fer street kids.”

“Says the girl who’s never been starvin’ before,” Dani sneered and she could see now from the looks on their faces that the others were judging her similarly.  Before she could respond, however, they heard the guards talking and much closer now, almost around the corner.

The Hunters’ Lane Gang scattered like leaves on the wind, running for their lives into the shadows.  Mornath followed Lander, since he was nearest to her and she was terrified of potentially having to face the guards alone.  Surely he knew of a good place to hide.

When it became apparent that she wasn’t going to break away from him and they’d put some distance between themselves and the crime scene, he turned to her with a look of intense fear and anger.

“Are ye daft!?  Get out of here!  Go back tae yer fancy tower where it’s safe!  Ye dunnae belong here!” he snapped, roughly pushing her away.

“I thought-”

“Go!”  The finality of the word broke something inside Mornath and she took off as fast as her skinny legs would take her, not stopping until she had climbed back through her bedroom window and collapsed onto her bed, where she cried herself to sleep.

She swore through her tears that she’d never go out at night again.  

The gap on her shelf where Lander’s book once lived would come to keep her in check anytime she had thoughts of rebellion, reminding her of what happened when she deviated from the path her father had set before her.

- - -

“Aye, I knew him.  Durin’ a part of ma life I’m not proud of,” Mornath admitted, eyes fixed on Lander, who had stopped struggling against Heliodoro and now seemed to simply be awaiting her verdict.  Heliodoro did not let up in the slightest, however, which was understandable, given his knowledge of other men from Mornath’s past.

“I could say the same about you,” Lander quipped.

“Still stealin’, I see.”

“Oh, this wasn’t stealing.”

“Right. And what happened tae yer accent?”  The moment Lander had opened his mouth, Mornath had noticed his Luruaran brogue had been replaced with the highly common, fluid accent of a native Chondathan speaker.

“My line of work is made easier if it’s hard to pinpoint where I’m from.”

“And what is yer line of work exactly?  Internationally hunted criminal?”  At this, Mornath could see a glint of amusement form in Heliodoro’s dark eyes, despite the furrow of concern that remained in his brow.  She imagined he was wickedly delighted at seeing her be so unusually mouthy.  She was honestly a bit surprised at herself in turn, but lingering resentments towards Lander seemed to be bringing this out in her, reawakening a version of herself she had long ago tried to bury.

“No,” Lander answered with an almost aggressive conviction.  “I’d be happy to explain and catch up with you, though, if your friend would simply let me go.”

Heliodoro gave Mornath a look in response as if to ask if she was cool with Lander.  She remained silent and unmoving for a long moment before nodding and Heliodoro stepped back, letting Lander stumble away from the wall, rubbing his likely bruised ribs.

“Blimey, you hit hard,” he muttered, wincing, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at Heliodoro, who was now standing in the moonlight, face fully illuminated.  “Oh now that’s a twist.  I’ve heard whispers of you, mate, the half-orc who wears Corellon’s colours, but I’d no idea our girl Mornath here was the mage they say literally puts the sparkle in the great Heliodoro’s smile.”

At this, Heliodoro grinned and, with a heavy sigh and a casual wave of her hand, Mornath produced a few silver sparkles floating from the corner of his lips.  Lander chuckled and Mornath was immediately overwhelmed with the feeling that she had to do something before this turned into a grand feeding of egos.

“Ye must be remarkably well-informed if ye’ve heard of us,” she commented and Heliodoro made a slight pouty face as if she’d spoiled his fun.

“Information is my business,” Lander replied, shrugging.

“On behalf of whom?  Some greasy lord who wants dirt on everyone?  I wouldn’t exactly call that a step up fer you from petty theft except perhaps in pay grade.”  Once again, an offended frown came onto Lander’s features at Mornath’s jibes and he held up his left hand, turning it so that she could see the small symbol sown in silver thread on the back of his glove: a harp surrounded by a crescent moon and four stars.  “Ye’re a Harper,” she gasped.  A glance at Heliodoro’s wide eyes told her that he also understood what that meant.

“Yes, strange as that may seem to you.”  The confession brought with it a softness in Lander’s voice unfamiliar to Mornath.  For the first time, she could see how truly different this man was from the boy she had known in her misspent adolescence.  This Lander carried himself like a man with the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and those blue eyes of his no longer held a bitter edge in their gaze.  She had been so eager to be angry at him that perhaps she had misjudged him, unless...

“I imagine yer superiors wouldn’t be too happy at yer pickpocketin’ a poor man’s gold.”

“It wasn’t coin and it wasn’t stealing,” Lander insisted with a roll of his eyes.

“Then what was it?”  The look on the man’s face when Mornath asked this was strange.  In anyone else, she’d have called it heartbreak, but she’d never known him to be that empathetic.

“Normally, I’d tell you that’s confidential, but given the bridges I burned the last time we met, I feel I owe you some honesty.  All the same, I’ve got to warn you that you’ll be less safe for it.”

For a long time, Mornath gave no response to this, mulling it over in her mind and glancing occasionally between Lander and Heliodoro, the latter of whom had been uncharacteristically silent, watching the back-and-forth with varying degrees of concern etched in his green countenance.

“We have t’know that we can trust ye,” Mornath finally said, crossing her arms.

“Then if we’re going to have this conversation, I’d prefer it be moved to a less...public location.  Follow me.”  Lander turned back into the shadows, beckoning to Mornath and Heliodoro as he went. After sharing an uncertain glance, the pair followed.

“Where are we going?” Heliodoro piped up after they’d gone a few blocks when he appeared to take notice of how Mornath was becoming increasingly anxious.

“The only place in this city where halfies like us and very especially you, my good man, can get a drink without catching at least a few nasty comments.  It’s run by the only tiefling I know of in town.  Lovely woman.  Might even have a little work for you if you tell her Landercelion E’Velahrn will vouch for you.”

“Sounds like my kind of tavern,” Mornath commented, unable to stop herself from smiling a little.  Heliodoro leaned over to her as they walked to murmur in amusement to her.

“Either he’s the nicest man in Silverymoon or you’re inspiring some serious guilt right now.”

“Why not both?” Lander called over his shoulder with a small laugh as he led them down a flight of stairs beside a large building to what appeared to be an outer cellar door with the words “The Dusty Dragon” shoddily carved into it.  He knocked a rhythm on the battered wood and waited a moment until a small slot opened to reveal a pair of yellow eyes, which took a moment to narrow at them before the slot closed again and the door opened.

A blast of warmth hit them as they entered into the slightly cramped but lively space of a tavern filled with odd people of every sort.  There were many a drunk among them, but not a one seemed belligerently so.  Everyone appeared to be having a good time, regardless of what they were drinking or who their company was.  There were battered elven amputees sharing cheese with half-drow businessmen and one-eyed dwarven ladies chatting with the smiling earth genasi barmaid.  It was...a lot to take in.

“Magnificent,” Heliodoro declared with a huge grin.  Lander led them to a table in the very back corner near the kitchen that was dimly lit and a bit secluded from the rest of the tavern’s activity.  The moment they sat down, a tall, older woman with red skin and ridged black horns emerged from crowd, bearing a matronly smile.

“Lander darling, it’s so good to see you!  And as always, you bring the most interesting friends to my establishment!��� she greeted warmly, eyeing Mornath and especially Heliodoro with interest.

“Lovely to see you as well, ma’am!  I’d like you to meet Mornath Sparrowswood and Heliodoro, professional performers.  My friends, this is Myskala Stormhollow, our esteemed host.”

“Oh a pleasure indeed,” the tiefling responded with a small bow.  “If you are performers, might I offer you a little coin for your services?  Oh and room and board, but of course I think that goes without saying.  It’s so hard to find good entertainment for a place like this sometimes.”

“We’d be delighted, ma’am!” Heliodoro declared, jumping up from his seat to shake Myskala’s hand.  They’d be fools not to take such an offer, especially in this town, where even shady jobs were difficult to come by.

“Excellent!  You’re on in five.”  Myskala gestured towards the small platform next to the bar, where a lone bard was currently jangling away at a jig on their lute.  “Good luck, darlings.”  She blew Mornath and Heliodoro a kiss and sauntered away, leaving the pair a bit stunned.

“Well that’s a bit soon.  What’re we going to do?” Heliodoro pondered.  They took a moment to consider their options, Lander watching them with deep interest all the while, kicked back in his chair.

“Let’s do somethin’ we can't do anywhere else.  Let’s do that Orc folksong ye taught me,” Mornath eventually suggested and the grin Heliodoro gave her could have lit up a whole square on a cloudy night.

“I like the way you think, Morning Glory.”

Ten minutes later, they had the whole tavern clapping, stomping, and singing along to a heavy beat of words half the patrons couldn’t even understand.  When Mornath looked over at Lander’s corner, she could see him clapping too, a brilliant smile on his face.  She didn’t think she had ever seen him this happy before.

His smile had still not faded by the time she and Heliodoro had made their way back to the table.  He seemed thoroughly thrilled by their performance, which was a sort of openness and energy Mornath never would have expected from him.

“Well done!  I dare say the tales I’ve heard of the Knight Stars do not do you justice,” he declared and Heliodoro gave Mornath a look that said something very akin to “Can we keep him?” as they sat back down at the table.

“You’re too kind,” the paladin replied, beaming.  It was a shame Mornath was going to have to rain on this positivity parade a bit.

“Aye, we’re truly flattered, but ye still haven’t told us about what ye lifted from that man in the market.”

“Right you are.  Still ever to the point, I see.”  With a sigh and a cautious glance about, Lander took something from his pocket and held it out for them to see.  It was a gold medallion covered in writing with a five-pronged symbol at its center inlayed with what appeared to be smoke quartz.  “Do you know what this is?” he asked.  Mornath knew he was being rhetorical, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I actually might.  Let me see it.”  Lander quirked an eyebrow in surprise at this response and hesitantly handed the medallion over for her to examine.  She didn’t like what she saw as she recognized the language written along the edge.  “‘Open the way and know ma secret’ it says.  And this symbol.  It’s dark and arcane.  It means release.”

Mornath had barely finished her analysis before Lander nervously snatched the medallion from her fingers and stowed it away.

“How is it that you know Abyssal?  What am I saying?  Of course you know Abyssal.  And you’ve just saved me a lot of trouble,” he laughed and worry furrowed Mornath’s brow.

“Lander, that’s a demon artifact.  What have ye gotten yerself into?”

“Right, well, the man I lifted that from is an informant of mine.  Since the war, demon cults have been cropping up to take advantage of the wreckage and disorder, which is of deep concern to my organization.  I won’t say anything more.  I’ve already said too much.”

“We could help you,” Heliodoro suggested.

“No!  No, I don’t want either of you involved in this.  My job is dangerous enough as it is, but this...I wouldn’t bring anyone outside the Harpers into this unless I absolutely had to.  Besides, you’re already doing something to make the world better.”  Lander gave them a sad smile as he finished and Mornath felt something yank at her heartstrings.  What happened to him that he could be so different from the boy she remembered?

“How did ye become a Harper?  What happened tae the Hunters’ Lane Gang after I left?” she asked quietly, barely audible over the din of the tavern.  The inquiry brought even more sadness to Lander’s eyes, but he nonetheless answered her, fidgeting a little as he spoke.

“Dani spent his gold a little too freely and the Silverwatch tracked him down.  He was executed for murder.  Sparks, Hilde, and I carried on for a while, but Sparks and Hilde started to get very comfortable with hurting people.  I turned them in to the guard and my ‘reward’ was conscription into the Argent Legion.”

“But that would've been-”

“Right at the start of the war, yes.  I was put on the front lines as a sniper.  It nearly got me killed in the end, but some Harpers found me before it was too late.  After I recovered, they offered me a place with them and I, er, wasn’t very grateful at first, but when they took me to Harpers’ Hall in Waterdeep and showed me what they were about, I started to understand the opportunity I’d been given.  They taught me better ways to cope with emotional stress, trained me as a spy, and even sent me to tutors at Fochlucan for a proper education.  I’m no bard, but I learned history, politics, and literature enough to hold a conversation with a scholar.  I’m a better man for it.”

“I’m glad ye found yer way, Lander,” Mornath commented, unable to stop herself from smiling a little.

“I never forgot who taught me to read, though.  For years, I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am for the things I said to you.  I even tried to find you once, but I was told you’d gone far to the east, to Rashemen,” Lander confessed, his expression becoming a little softer.

“I did, but I’m back now.”

“And just as delightful as I remember.”  Oh, now that made Mornath blush, especially with the strange, warm look Lander was giving her.

“Well, I...I don’t know about that...”

“Yes, isn’t she just the greatest?” Heliodoro put in loudly, very obviously trying to make her accept a compliment, though the shit-eating grin didn’t help.

“Indeed.  Such talent.  Such wit,” Lander replied, matching Heliodoro’s dramatic manner and mischievous smirk, much to Mornath’s dismay.

“Truly, we are in the presence of a-”

“Alright, alright!  I get it.  I’m wonderful.  Happy now?”

“Very,” Heliodoro chuckled and Mornath watched in horror as Lander high-fived him.  What had she unleashed upon herself?

“I think this calls for drinks,” Lander proclaimed and proceeded to order three ales, which were delivered to them soon thereafter by the cheerful barmaid.  “To finding your place in the world,” he said as he raised his mug.

“To new friendship,” Heliodoro added.

“And the rebirth of an old one,” Mornath finished, giving Lander an accepting nod as they clinked their drinks together and the last of the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade.

He spent the rest of the night with them, swapping jokes and stories and reminding Mornath why she’d been so fond of him when she was younger.  She didn’t go past one ale, but the boys got festive with their drinking and she had the pleasure of watching them be increasingly ridiculous together, all the while soberly thinking how nice it was to have friends plural again.

She eventually fell asleep at the table in the wee hours of the morning while Heliodoro and Lander were having a drunken-giggling-filled conversation about chickens.  When she awoke, she discovered Heliodoro using her back as a pillow and Lander gone.  In his place was a note neatly folded around a large silver coin bearing the Harpers’ crest.

My dear friends,

Unfortunately, I could not stay with you longer.  My duties are urgent and take me elsewhere for now, but I should like to find you again soon if I can.  Take this token so that you might earn the trust of any Harper you meet.  It marks you an ally and could help in certain sticky situations.

If you need my aid or wish to contact me for any reason, send your messages to this tavern.  Myskala will ensure they get to me as soon as possible.

Stay safe,

Lander

As Mornath read, she found herself getting oddly emotional at Lander’s handwriting, which was flawless.

#Mornath Sparrowswood #The Knight Stars #Forgotten Realms #DnD #fanfic